by Zack Kouns
Hello murderers, my name is Zack Kouns esq and I'm set to introduce a dying civilization to you. We'll have to make a voyage into your lonesome and deathly hearts, have to sacrifice your children to the gods that call for blood. Haven't you been hallucinating this dream world called consciousness since you sprang from blood and genitals? Didn't you ask nicely to wake up, haven't you observed the wretched thing called reality and named it the farce that it is? Tonight we're going to swallow hornet's nests, we're going to watch Saturn devour his child in a crazed frenzy, we're going to marvel at and admire nature's savageries, we're going to extinguish that life in us that is so poor and paltry. Man is on a search for witches milk in this meaningless world; milking the infants and having large swallows of the bluish white liquid that destroys this false earth in their withering bodies. Man has died and when he died he found the new drug: milk from an infant.
(Three businessmen in a board room naked save for their ties and thong underwear. They're staring at a newborn child who is on the center of the table.)
First businessman: What is it?
Second businessman: It's either human or one of the serpents...
Third businessman: I'll rip open it's abdomen to find out.
First: Then it will be safe to drink. Bring Saturn down from the skys and have it throbbing in our throat.
Second: Will there be meaning then, do you think? Will the walls stop falling in on me? Will my wife put my knife in her mouth and my children come down from the trees?
Third: That's too much to ask, turd bird...get a grip. Ain't no meaning to be had. Just witches milk and long nights alone. You ought to stop your dreaming.
Second: Easy for you to say, all your loved ones died in their sleep. You standing over them with a pillow I'd be willing to bet.
Third: That's your problem, clubfoot; never developed a taste for flesh.
First: All this bickering just gets us thirsty, colleagues. There's something bluish white to be had here and I'm over the age of consent.
(He milks the child into a flat basin and pours three shot glasses of the bluish white milk.)
Third: Yeah, let's drink to the world we ended.
Second: To the lukewarm spilling out of the mouth of God!
First: To the horses riding their masters and the gazelles devouring lions.