Work in Progress Random Sample  (updated 8/20/2022):

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Kip Slangularre (5):


Now Midas said that farm job wrapped up, and, just like any of their many jobs the crew became mindless of it. They became more and more so as about four more jobs quickly pushed the big Martin job off out the way back out their memories, but. One evening, three loose suited legal looking men, knocked on Midas’ door. He said they told him, very solemnly, May we come in? Its important—and he asked why.

They said they needed to discuss a very important thing which will affect the rest of his life, and asked once more, very very sharply, So, now.  May we come in? We’re going to anyway, or else you can come out and we can do it in the car, but—we’re not leaving until we tell you what’s what—and so, Midas had them in. They talked. And Midas hardly could tell all they said because along with themselves, they brought a brand new briefcase stuffed with money. And over the money they came at him a few hours, and when they left, he sat there numb a while. He thumbed through the money and there was so much money, that—well, he never would have to work again, probably. It felt just like that wayback moment when the last instant of being babyboy Live birth 45673 peeled back away, leaving him standing there now being Midas, and now—

Kip, no, no, don’t go off that way. Not now at least. What did—Midas—do after that?

 

Okay well he also played back time over time what they said to him over the big case of money. That was that if you take this money, you are no longer Midas. Not Midas. No Midas. Never Midas. Never ever again, Midas. You’ll choose a new name, knowing the impact, and the effect, and next you’ll move far away—why? Never mind why—see the money? Listen to the money. You’ve never seen this much money. The money says forget everything, be somebody else, and go far away. Go on. Touch the money. Count it. Far away, see the money, count it, recount it, first as Midas whose money its not, and then as not-Midas, whose money it is—see the money. Count the money. First as Midas without, then with not-Midas with—over and over—he sank into himself somehow. Dreaming this. Dreaming. Fall forward, fall far, away forward not Midas, see the bag, count it—Midas’ head spun—count it, and do it, or.

Something may happen that Midas without may not like you won’t like you don’t want. And we don’t think you would want that, would you?

And what did you take that to mean?

It sounded like something a gangster would say. Like—it meant they’d knock me off.

Kill you?

Yes.

What did you do then?

Took the gate; took the money. Moved away, took a new name. If I’d been asked before hypotheckarily would you do this is it came your way, ‘course I’d say, I dodn’t think so; plus it won’t never happen. But now that it happened, eh, sometimes I lean back look at the sky and think, here it is; there’s gates ahead of you, youngish man. Shut up and look forward! How many gates we cannot know. I did not know—until I came up against this one. And you can’t know when. You can’t know what. But take the gate through the money. Take that, then, think of it! Your dream’s come true. I’m not Midas. But so what? That wasn’t my dream. Midas was worthless. But money is not. Not by any name. No no no no!

But, funny ‘s that was, the laughing hit me with, That means your real names not Midas, Right?

Huh?

You told me you’re Midas. But that’s your money name. Not your real name.

Okay—

What’s you’re real name then?

Midas of course. But you know what they say; what’s in a name, Hunkie? Hunkie ah Hunkie ah ah, what is ever forever in a name? Nothing is what! Ha!

Bang, slap, brillo! Nothing is ever forever in a name!

Then before I could think, he drained his beer, then said, None of that matters. Just this beer here is real. After they left, well ha, here I sat with the money—and that’s it.

That’s it? That’s all he told you?

That’s all he told me pertinent to your problem. Up ‘til then I’d been listening so hard, that only when he stopped, cutting me free to focus elsewhere, did I look on the back-bar mirrorwall his super-moist eyes. As he’d been speaking his eyes had been bulging with so much liquid, that, I mean, hey-ya, crap. The sideways of the surface tension such liquids have should in this case have let go and down should be coming tears. Or, so I assumed but—

They looked at each other. This time they let Kip go.

—we threw back half our bottles of beer in less than a single gulp each—yes suh’, such is possible as per the legends of huge Norsemen doing so daily, up past the line where the too-cold-to massively b’lt bear lives—evergreed’n trees, telephone pole’d forests, logged out, logged over, and deadened f’rever, ‘ven though barely on half o’ a deep rutted downhilling mudroad came down to the real world, per thousand yards of political poundries, fum’ sizzle—they had to work superhumanely to bring all that big lumber down all the way down. Then, one that step was complete, they tapped ‘round the lower rims of their bottles, just shy of hard enough to the slatelike flat, in some spots roaring, totally out loud, I will not be made flat! I will not, and more others, making him finally say after a day or seven I three’d out on them and moved two and a half houses or is it miles dunno anyway—three counties over I moved my reassembled formerly dual engined self ‘ches nothing considering that to thwart certain invasions multiple giant steel aircraft’s, balls-a-bearin’s factories were moved in five minutes up down and over back behind of the Urals, I could do it to so help me. No ain’t that just right?

They nodded agreement, though they’d been paying no attention, and were scanning their emails and editing down their day-notes for tightness.

Good! ‘cause its true. Midas? Newt. Kip? Newt, knew’t. God! I! God, I said to meeselffes, I will not give my name back to where it was chosen from via nobody’s friendly clean hanky. So what it was proffered? So what was meant well? So what what kind gesture? Especially as those lips long back thousands o’ gonewhiles, went, all rotted. I. Yes, I came to this section of this here darny-dratt’d terrortorie and led my men, virtually, so to speak, out from the desert into its opposite, and said to hell with them I am keeping the money, sacking it safe, pulling my twelves (approximate quik-count) together, and, mounting over the hill of deciding to do that, we pointed them down to their lands of plenties plenty of which stood down that hard rocky slope waiting for their taking. It had been a hot trip, too, band-aid some money, please, in the Father’s house-aid there are band-aids. God damn, shut my mouth, if there aren’tly alsoo many great mansions, so being thee opposite of any band-aid band. Kip, Moses with w/o long staff, tightly band-aided and totally robeless, rendered me that way also—those over there too—s’ do not throw your bandages down, Kip!

Come on, someone may be triggered to puke out loud, Kip!

Hold it, no, this is a band-aid I cannot touch used band-aids, General, I can not obey your orders, regardless of your blindingly starry authoritarian jacket and face, without money. Though healed of my splits, I cannot touch it. I mean look at it; gout torrents redly sliming inches this down that once-beautiful wall, sliming reek of Lawrence’s rotting torn flesh, that’s no lie. No, it’s all true. That wall has always stood there just like that, amen. No it hasn’t, Manny’s team made it right. That can’t have been, okay you win so, yes, it was not, ‘cause when both barrels were set off yes it was made really quite permanent. And, he told me so I must belie him no yes no no yes yes yes because the Father told me so Kip. Hum. Kip. Hum. Hum. ‘ip. Hum Hum Hum ‘p. Hu’. ‘m.

Hello? Kip? Wake up. We’re done for today.

Oh? Hey. Okay where the hell were we?