"Multiversal Mutt (4) Sports for utopia"
Franny politely piloted the Junkyard Bone to the crescent Moon. Jerky lifts his leg in the acquiesce of a humbled litter box. They view Mother Earth within the gleam of internal cockpit light--and wonder . . .
FRANNY
Blue for sorrow, for peace--
JERKY
For your freaky hair--you appear Jokerish. And no hilarity about goading United States into frivolous war to boast of muscle--everybody knows--saw C. Thomas Howell in RED DAWN.
FRANNY
I hate to semi-quote Pounding, but: There died a myriad, and of the best among them--for a botched civilization--for an old bitch gone in the teeth.
JERKY
Sports! Sports! Sports! Contact too--like a dry hump. Mandela knew to get in the ring, or piss yourself on da turf instead of being a tool. That's how to release the seed during utopia. Get in da ring! Everybody but United States and Canada fear the pigskin hit.
"Multiversal Mutt (3) Frozen Han Solo"
After deliciously digesting Mister Chicken's cerebral cuisine, Franny and Jerky poke their way back into the Silky Milky Way, anchoring the Junkyard Bone on an asteroid outside of Pluto.
FRANNY
I bet it's colder than Calrissian's carbonite outside.
JERKY
I kept drawing pictures of a frozen Han Solo, compulsively, when I was a pup in doggy school. And I used to put him in water in my dog bowl and freeze him in the fridge. Kenner builds an enduring action figure. My G.I. JOE people always fell apart though--they were screwed together ya see.
FRANNY
I surmise Captain Solo really really liked Princess Leia's buns.
JERKY
A hot dog between 'em would be yummalicious. Plus, with a dab of Miracle Whip it would have some tang.
FRANNY
Gross--you're such a dude Jerky. Looks outside the cockpit. Holy crap--there's an Irish beast laying on an asteroid futon.
"Multiversal Mutt (2) An eye for a kiss"
Beyond the cream of the Milky Way, into the oncoming merge of the Andromeda Galaxy, Franny and Jerky hook-up the Junkyard Bone with the esoteric Sal Monella, her piloted by Mister Chicken--they share food communion and wacky symposium.
MISTER CHICKEN
Why do them hens think I wanna engage in getting laid for an egg?
JERKY
Yup--every pup not want to tame tail. Some are there just cause firm, symmetrical, and motherly milkshakes brought 'em to da yard.
FRANNY
So true guys; next, if you don't give it to a wanting female--she selfishly invokes demonic revenge; as a result--just hold up a magical mirror to them; reptiles hate noticing themselves.
"Multiversal Mutt"
Dramatis Personae
FRANNY: Catholic girl from L.A., tempted by Goth girl wardrobe from the 20th Century; however, remained iconically cool, shopping at Walmart before her evolution into the Junkyard Bone, a Moon-forged cargo ship armed with a dairy bar.
JERKY: A complicated configuration of every canine, birthed in the Otherworld, yet constantly fluxing within the Creamy Milky Way. Too, like all canines, telepathic; plus, has an intrinsic love for all friendly, honest creatures.
Leaving the Moon's potential for mining, without pissing off the inhabitants and spiritual forces of geology, Franny pilots the Junkyard Bone through the rings of Saturn.
FRANNY
I really dig chocolate and Kristy Swanson as BUFFY, but the strawberries and cream shake is as yummy as the mocha.
JERKY
Got milk--nope!?! Maybe a milk-bone . . .
FRANNY
Thank the stars President Obama nuked the Moon in the early 21st Century--that old piece of rock has potential to feed the Earth.
JERKY
Read my mind--c'mon, c'mon, try Franny. Sing or say what I'm thinking.
FRANNY
Crap. Ok--chicken pecking is first in line--lead with your head and recline. Too, you really enjoyed television during the Carter Administration. And no--he didn't have a peanut picture stamped on the hood of his automobile.
JERKY
Now, now too. What am I thinking girl?
FRANNY
God spank the Queen! Really loudly.
JERKY
Reagan built the MX monster, as big as King Kong. Freaked the hell outta the Soviet Union.
FRANNY
British, not all, are infected by the snobbery of reptilians God Bless 'em. Christ was too deliciously kind to kill snakes. Just yet anyway . . .
JERKY
You're getting good at this.
FRANNY
And all I know is that my mutt is really freaking weird. Oh shit, the rings of Saturn look like little stones.
JERKY
Bones!?! You said it out loud--I didn't really hear you.
"Gospel of Coyote"
1.) Reminded of the Holy Spirit's Crystal Eternal, Buzz wormholed homewards.
2.) Amidst the highly-moist weeping of Mary of Nazareth, crying remembrance of Her tears captured by Italian mystics during the spiritual forge of the Renaissance.
3.) I glared upon the effulgent Virgin, knowing and a bit aware of Her knowledge concerning Jesus' tortured futurity.
4.) Humbled by a beastly, vermin-like introduction to such chaste and charitable glamour, I dropped my large, pointy ears, retaining aspects of humanity, and I made an eager oath to Coyote Cool that I would be a servant and companion to young Jesus.
5.) Mary turned to me with an eternal eye, loving yet worried about my lack of adherence to legal dogma; still, Her entrails, which birthed a Messiah, allowed Her tolerance of my bizarre, time-traveling and animal MORPH. She wanted to offer toothy smile, and I forced upon Jesus' infant face a bad boy grin by way of sweetly licking the incarnate flesh that 21st Century Disciples would feed me on Holy Occasion.
6.) Next, I kissed His feet with wet nose till tingling His toes; then, I offered a mild "Yip" at Israeli Moon, doing a mercurial spin to make sure my fluffy tail was still there, before giving it a mortified nibble in order to produce a vocal cry of weird, coyote elation.
7.) Mary laughed holy bubbles--so floataciously fun, knowing I would be better entertainment than SpongeBob on Blu-ray. Yup--a singular coyote, once tamed. Once. For legalism birthed into suffering, which is the flesh of mankind.
"The American Banana-Man"
Holy Christ--I don't follow Thee
Outta naivety;
Moreover, did You hurt those boys as a child Yourself uncanonized?
Regardless, You are the Son of God materialized!!!
Codex Sinaiticus indicates (either way) Divinity--
As scribbled super-symmetrical scribes armed with benevolent OCD;
Still, strict/conservative souls are phobic concerning the American Banana-Man,
Blinding their wives as best they can,
Terrified folk will mutate into whores
If we allow Liberty, which might offer the view of glimmering galores;
Thus, they cruelly cage and steal our eyes;
Indeed, we are not allowed Liberty to realize.
Verily, all wives may not prefer the greater glam,
And smoke might not always damn;
Alas, for some--yes,
But they were already a mess,
So instead of peeling away the bacteria-ridden skin--
You guys and gals push your clothed poison in.
So who might be the American Banana-Man?
Not every fool eats every hamburger that they can.
"Four-Leaf Clover Mystery"
Patrick, once a suffering slave;
Next, a Holy Saint made,
Holding up the sublime shamrock to explain the Trinity,
Yet the fourth leaf offers a lucky charm or that the Co-Redemptrix can offer free;
Indeed, forged in the cellular womb of the Virgin,
Feeding humanity's life-force to God's Seed from Her sacred urging--
There is no denying God's Loving Heart--
He that sometimes bleeds us in order for eternal life to start.
And as the Disciples did ask the Christ:
"Rabbi, is this man blind because of his sins or that of his folk?"
To which Christ did reply with Holy Smoke:
"Neither, yet so that you may know--I AM LORD."
Alas, at THAT TIME--Returns the King with healing sword.
