Mental Static

Slanted stairs.

Tangerine stairs.

Spongy stairs.

Around--around--around the whirling, spinning wheel of mayhem.

"How many broken pieces fell into the milk, Alan?"

Floating memories--some in green--others in white, freshened with Dentyne.

"Release the hounds! Release the hounds!"

Turn that knob, my good man.

"I ate a peanut one time and nearly died. Can you believe that shit?"

Beat beat. The drum hits me in the...

"The Tick-Tock Man stole our pie again."

Beat the heart.

"Pretend you care and fuck me silly!"

The screech and scratch of distorted waves lightens the sleuth's steps. One more hour or one more day. In the end, it doesn't matter, as some terrible punk bands might say.

"Step away from the mic."

"Receiver."

"What?"

"You meant to say receiver."

"Who the fuck cares, just step beh--

Everything was dark and isn't. A lengthy dwelling within the imagination.

"Stop"

A shake of the head to loosen Jargon.

"Literary bullshit is what it is."

Tick-tock. Tick-Tock. The ill-minded man runs up the Court Room clock. Soundbites swell with bloody claws. Meow. Meow. The Tick-Tock Man crows.