There Are No Days in the Jungle
There are no days in the jungle. The puma-cat and his furred meals, they that are down amongst and about the brush, running so as they do, shall not allow for any. In the jungle, there is but junglery. So it is, amongst puma-cats and their furred meals, the day-less jungle.
Quite exquisite, this day-less fascination is. In fact, it seems to hurl forward alongside the puma-cat and his amphibious co-conspirators with each of their wretched leaps. Indeed, we within the expedition observe many creatures who surrender themselves to the quandary of their hopeless plight; here, where time is for naught.
Daily we send ourselves, begrudgingly, into the depths and open-jawed tentacles of this sponge-beast. Our charter was to go forth amongst native lands, catalogue and colonize, yet how can such records be kept when one finds himself devoid of proper ingredients?I beg of you, sir, pray tell the methods of your genius, surely they cannot survive the plague that God himself has set upon The Tropics. Yet I ramble in my writings. Please, excuse this transgression. I am faint from the heat.
I shall not neglect my duty, be it as it may, regardless of perils and tribulations, put upon and expected of us by all the beasts and inhabitants of this jungle. These wretched things, be they upright or cursed, all seem to share in the wanton bliss of impending doom. Therefore, I consider it my privilege and duty to share with and present to you the findings of our Official Expedition.
Day One: Arrival upon shore. Greeted by but the sand and shrubbery. The tides have brought fortune, tonight we rest well.
Day Two: Our expedition begins at dawn. I awaken to sounds of Hell’s Angels, sending forth from the brush offerings of wicked temptation, endless fortune. The song parlayed forth has yet to meet the ears of a true man of God, I fear, and it shall lie before me as my duty to tame and Christianize this Godforsaken land.
Day Three: Our expedition was met with certain difficulties upon the morning. Boatmen reported sightings of creatures, fair and fowl, though I cannot see the former possible in this Hellish place. I miss my Annabelle and her vagina.
Day Four: We have decided to lay camp downstream, away from the open coast. The men talk of savage natives lurking beyond the brush line; I suspect foul Celtic superstitions play their hands, and their wordy imaginations.
Day Five: Camp laid downstream, away from the coast. Here we have first encountered the dreaded puma-cat, as one leapt upon and tore my rigger-man asunder. Tonight I weep for him, and tenderly recall the nights I took his wife’s vagina.
Day Six: Ghouls! Beasts! The Devil’s infantrymen! Yes, I see them. See with mine own eyes! They walk this jungle, prowling like deranged, upright frogs; frogs that hold dear their wanton desire for the damnation of all of God’s creation! Tomorrow we shall engage these reptilian demons, and set forth in blessing this land under the Name of the Sacraments!
Day Eleven: I write in panic. Even now I hear the wretched, leathered beast-men and their cursed-tongued incantations through the Devil’s underbrush, like the steam off of a smartly drawn bath. Horrible, animal intruders into God’s domains! I shall set my men forth upon them, with the conscience and clarity of the Sacramental Words as their armaments, even as the fever and bleeding of the Devil’s very curse sets in upon us. I am too feverish to sleep. Nay, I shall comfort myself with thoughts of the Queen’s vagina.
Day Four-teen: Heat. Crush my soul, embrace my spirit, raise me to He which creates this struggle. I am low before you. Says the puma-cat, “your jest is observed, dear Lord. I obey.” Damn you, cat idolater! Turn to your spritely she-commanders, and bring forth our Redemption!
Day Six-teen: Our struggle seems to have run its course. Sixty-seven of my men have died, the majority of whom succumbing to the fever that besets us. Fortunately, our vile opponents have fared no better with regard to the unleashing of our Lord’s fairest judgment. Even now, the man-beasts and women lay amongst us, dead and dying within and amongst the harsh and cruel underbrush. I have instructed my men to burn the men,and leave the women to me. God calls upon me to inspect their vaginas.
There are no days in the jungle. The puma-cat and his furred meals, they that are down amongst and about the brush, running so as they do, shall not allow for any. In the jungle, there is but junglery. So it is, amongst puma-cats and their furred meals, the day-less jungle.
Quite exquisite, this day-less fascination is. In fact, it seems to hurl forward alongside the puma-cat and his amphibious co-conspirators with each of their wretched leaps. Indeed, we within the expedition observe many creatures who surrender themselves to the quandary of their hopeless plight; here, where time is for naught.
Daily we send ourselves, begrudgingly, into the depths and open-jawed tentacles of this sponge-beast. Our charter was to go forth amongst native lands, catalogue and colonize, yet how can such records be kept when one finds himself devoid of proper ingredients?I beg of you, sir, pray tell the methods of your genius, surely they cannot survive the plague that God himself has set upon The Tropics. Yet I ramble in my writings. Please, excuse this transgression. I am faint from the heat.
I shall not neglect my duty, be it as it may, regardless of perils and tribulations, put upon and expected of us by all the beasts and inhabitants of this jungle. These wretched things, be they upright or cursed, all seem to share in the wanton bliss of impending doom. Therefore, I consider it my privilege and duty to share with and present to you the findings of our Official Expedition.
Day One: Arrival upon shore. Greeted by but the sand and shrubbery. The tides have brought fortune, tonight we rest well.
Day Two: Our expedition begins at dawn. I awaken to sounds of Hell’s Angels, sending forth from the brush offerings of wicked temptation, endless fortune. The song parlayed forth has yet to meet the ears of a true man of God, I fear, and it shall lie before me as my duty to tame and Christianize this Godforsaken land.
Day Three: Our expedition was met with certain difficulties upon the morning. Boatmen reported sightings of creatures, fair and fowl, though I cannot see the former possible in this Hellish place. I miss my Annabelle and her vagina.
Day Four: We have decided to lay camp downstream, away from the open coast. The men talk of savage natives lurking beyond the brush line; I suspect foul Celtic superstitions play their hands, and their wordy imaginations.
Day Five: Camp laid downstream, away from the coast. Here we have first encountered the dreaded puma-cat, as one leapt upon and tore my rigger-man asunder. Tonight I weep for him, and tenderly recall the nights I took his wife’s vagina.
Day Six: Ghouls! Beasts! The Devil’s infantrymen! Yes, I see them. See with mine own eyes! They walk this jungle, prowling like deranged, upright frogs; frogs that hold dear their wanton desire for the damnation of all of God’s creation! Tomorrow we shall engage these reptilian demons, and set forth in blessing this land under the Name of the Sacraments!
Day Eleven: I write in panic. Even now I hear the wretched, leathered beast-men and their cursed-tongued incantations through the Devil’s underbrush, like the steam off of a smartly drawn bath. Horrible, animal intruders into God’s domains! I shall set my men forth upon them, with the conscience and clarity of the Sacramental Words as their armaments, even as the fever and bleeding of the Devil’s very curse sets in upon us. I am too feverish to sleep. Nay, I shall comfort myself with thoughts of the Queen’s vagina.
Day Four-teen: Heat. Crush my soul, embrace my spirit, raise me to He which creates this struggle. I am low before you. Says the puma-cat, “your jest is observed, dear Lord. I obey.” Damn you, cat idolater! Turn to your spritely she-commanders, and bring forth our Redemption!
Day Six-teen: Our struggle seems to have run its course. Sixty-seven of my men have died, the majority of whom succumbing to the fever that besets us. Fortunately, our vile opponents have fared no better with regard to the unleashing of our Lord’s fairest judgment. Even now, the man-beasts and women lay amongst us, dead and dying within and amongst the harsh and cruel underbrush. I have instructed my men to burn the men,and leave the women to me. God calls upon me to inspect their vaginas.
1 comment:
I love my readers (myself included) far too much to have them go a week without a new post. You're welcome.
Sincerely,
GhostOfTyrone
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