Lions and Liars

I am the New American Bible, Catholic. And I’m full of s**t.

In this dream there was an aqueduct that spilled out fermented grapes of wine. A fairytale of drunk imagination. But the muslims attempted an invasion.

“I’ll f**k you till you’re blind,” said the muslim girl, beauty number two.

Travis stood tall, intimidating even to lions. None can kill him, and he pretends to be christian, but he’s not. He’s a liar that fights for the church. A knight’s templar. Dirty as f**k.

“Upon your prayers,” said the swamp, “I’ll grab her feet.”

“I’ll make her sit on me!” said the barstool. “She’ll have no chance once I get her drunk! Then you’ll like her more too. Drunk muslim girls are sexy!”

“I don’t care. I don’t care about anything,” said Travis. “Why am I even in this story? I just want to drink. I’m not a hero. I’m okay masturbating for the rest of my life.”

“You’re here to find a wife. Your hands are tired. The life of a perfect girl is missing something perfect and that’s you.”

“Who are you?” Travis asked.

“I’m just a random narration. Like thoughts without a thinker. No being. Just words.”

“This is getting crazy,” said the swamp.

“I like the muslim girl,” said the barstool. “She has a nice butt.”

“You will do some awful things to her,” said the New American Bible, Catholic. 

“I don’t want to harm anyone! I’m just thirsty!” yelled Travy Trav.

“You’ll f**k the muslim girl, and God will cry.”

“God isn’t in this story!” Travis drunkly cried.

“I’m here,” said God.

“F**k me,” prayed Travis the Sinner.