Distinct Impossibilities

It’s almost eleven o’clock. I should have been in bed half an hour ago, but I haven’t finished my bourbon and coke (yes, I have this crude habit of drinking the swill of the working classes) I made just a few minutes ago. The sword I painted recently has come, miraculously, to life and I am holding it in my hand. It’s heavier than I would have thought it to be, considering that it’s made of acrylic paint spread in a thin layer over my imagination, laid flat on an imaginary plane.

Ah, I see now. The small but heavy unicorn galloping back and forth from tip to tang adds considerable weight to the imaginary weapon.

Who would have thought I would find myself in the midst of a psychotic break at this hour? Generally, they take place very early in the morning, just before I awaken; I can handle them better when I’m asleep. But tonight, I must deal with mental fireworks in a state of wakefulness. Tonight, I must listen to the noise in my head and exercise firm control over the machete in my hand, its blade anxious to sever limbs and behave as a horizontal guillotine.

I’ve been successful thus far in wrestling the demons inhabiting that empty cavern buried deep in my head. We’ve reached a compromise, of sorts, wherein I agree to acknowledge their right to my mental real estate and they agree to cede control of same during my waking hours. But we’ve been running into disagreements over definitions lately. The demons suggest my waking hours are too long; they want control from 10 pm to 8 am; I refused that nonsense outright, inasmuch as I tend to go to bed after 11 and arise before 5. Bastards! They have called in a team of trained arbitrators to deal with the matter. I do not trust them; they are paid by checks written on a joint account owned by British Petroleum and Walmart.

We have a session scheduled for the morning. I have agreed to offer them breakfast, consisting of loin of unicorn , spritzed with angel wing dressing. If I exit my supernatural state of magical and mystical wanderings before then, I have no idea what I’ll feed them.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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One Response to Distinct Impossibilities

  1. jserolf says:

    This is great stuff!!!

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