Talking Some Serious Turtle

:P Amphibious Satire!

Painted Turtles & Everything Else

 

Frequently, my muddy thoughts swim, half submerged, in stagnant puddles; like painted turtles. The ugly stillness sneers at the ugly sky. No brainwaves, just mental muck-muck, right up to your pretty knees. I try to name the little freaks, but their faces refuse to rise. You try to name them, but you’ve forgotten how to speak without insulting everyone. So, we forfeit our nomenclatural birthright, and allow rich shadows who we’ve never met to name our turtles, tell us which are most appropriate, even repaint the shells to fit their own moral fetishes. On holidays, we mail pictures of them to the people we love, even though we don’t understand what we’re celebrating. And, when the TV tickles our coin purses, we buy more of these beautiful, handcrafted turtles, blindly hoping, that, eventually, somebody with more color comprehension and herpetological knowledge will tell us what the hell their purposes are. But, they never do; and, now, there’s more turtle than puddle. So, we begin eating them, juggling them, throwing them at our problems in the spirit of great heroes like Mario, Luigi and that weird princess-chick with the mushroom hat. Fighting off Satan and Bowser and terrorist insurgents until our turtles become prophets on a half shell, form a Voltron-esque spaceshipman, and fly us to Heaven, where we’ll meet Jesus, and Vishnu, and that giant Apache guy from the Super Friends network. Then, we’ll understand painted turtles & everything else.

 

 

That Big Swamp in the Sky

 

And, you’ll get your left eye back; and then you’ll be a much nicer person. Most likely I’ll get my own painted shell to wear like a crown. There’ll be gem-studded mansions, golden streets and all the Golden Grahams anyone could eat will fall from marshmallow clouds shaped like purple horseshoes; manna! The water will look like chocolate pudding, and taste like Mountain Dew. There’ll be angels and Umpa Lumpas everywhere. Friendly orange alligators will walk around singing 1950s love songs and 1980s sitcom themes, while chickens in straw hats sit on their backs playing silver ukuleles. Then, Paul Revere and Billy Dawes will ride around in white Mustangs (5.0), singing Yankee Doodle Dandy and Froggy Went A-Courting in operatic voices. And, we’ll all be young, with thick hair, giant erections, voluptuous, yet perky, breasts and perfect teeth that always taste like new Fruit Stripe Gum. Oh, and nobody will die anymore. That’s why we need to get all of our killing out of the way in this lifetime. Also, our turtles will be decoded by a man with an old hat and a magical golden plate. Then we’ll understand what purpose male n*****s serve, and why dogs eat poop, and why some uncles are nice and give you quarters, while other uncles smell strange, and give you nightmares. That’s why turtles are so important. They understand our pain; and they love the taste of our creamy souls.

 

 

Can a Turtle Get a Witness!

 

And while we’re talking eternal turtles, I want to know where yours are. You are always on my side of the universe, poking at my Skittle-colored shells with borrowed twigs, and broken car antennae, and ridiculous, giant foam hands. I’m worried that when the sky pops open like a Pringles can, you might be left here with the sock-sniffers and sodomites. I’ve heard that the sky will turn to dead skin and toe jam, and, everybody who’s left behind will lose their noses, and get oozing sores on their nether parts. So, here; I’ll give you my chartreuse Loggerhead to get you started. He might be the Antichrist, and he makes my ears itch, but I think he’s just what you need. Remember to feed him your best wishes, and, to touch the squares on his belly often. Soon enough, he’ll eat fried chicken after midnight, and go skinny-dipping in the public pool; that’s how they reproduce. And, once you start turtle-raising, you’ll be hooked. And, when the Mayans return from their banana farm on Mars to call us all up yonder, you’ll be ready. And that’s how to fireproof your innards. Otherwise, when the Chinese stop loaning everyone devalued Yen, you’ll cough up a swarm of wasps, ruin your Sunday trousers and turn into a pile of thumbtacks and breadcrumbs. Be ready. Be vigilant. Be a next leveler. Or else, burn for eternity with the mimes and the child actors! It’s your choice to make! Just ask the talking snake!        

Reviews

[roarke]

Great concept. Don't know about the third title... or does it matter?
Ya know this is WAY too hip for the room. Is that a crime? dunno. Turtles, who knew...
Well, considering all the stuff you've written, I'd have to say this is the best I've read to date. Seriously.

through the eyes of children, er turtles. The third part is consistent with the first two, but suggests a change, a darker realization, the maturing through societal dogma.... I wouldn't change it, but I might change the connotation of some words to complete the shift of narration or realization.
Fabulous stuff.

[Kenneth The Poet]

R.G. the prophet speaks volumes here. I love amphibious Christified religiosity you put forth here. Bravo!