Post Future Breakfast with the Vatican
Mrs. Jane Smith unties her yellow flowered sea green apron, folds it neatly into a small square then drops it, after smoothing it on the blue tiled kitchen counter, into the silver stainless steel mouth of the laundry shoot. A slight draft brings the fresh meadow chemical smell from the laundry room below into the breakfast morning kitchen. Jane Smith stops to rub her husband’s broad shoulders through his lime green Izod shirt as he reads the morning edition of the Fairvale Daily Sun.
“Good Morning children! Breakfast is ready.” Jane calls from the bottom of the newly painted stairs of her Post Future Plantation Style home.
The children, Johnny, Peter, Suzy, and Tina together bustle and tussle down the long curved stairway each dressed for a Fairvale day of squirrel chasing noisy school, scrapped knee whistle playgrounds, grass stained yells and football games, and silent medicated thoughtful sharp pencil studies.
Boy girl, boy girl, boy girl, everyone seats themselves’ on their previously set red neon vinyl chrome kitchen chairs while King the dirty-pawed German Shepard pup scampers in from the tall grass white fenced bird singing yard nail skidding over the gray pink and black spotted linoleum to guard the passing bacon skillet.
“Dad I tested King’s blood yesterday with the GC unit in our chemistry class along with a sample of the Chinese dog food we feed him each morning and there is a direct correlation to the heavy metal content of his food and his blood.”
“Well Johnny, if the PPM is lethal or will cause neurological damage during his adult lifespan we’ll need to have King euthanized this Sunday.”
“Bob, is that necessary? Johnny, have you tested all of the food we eat and made blood samples of each of our family members? We can’t reasonably administer euthanasia upon King if we have similar levels of contamination in or own systems.”
“I’m sorry mom. I shouldn’t have spoken of the results until I’d expanded my sampling.”
“That’s right Son, there no need frightening your brothers and sisters until you can substantiate their fears.”
“Daddy?”
“Yes, Suzy. Have you finished your breakfast?”
“No, Daddy, I will, I only want to ask about the Waste Management Technician.”
“Has he been taking my magazines from the paper recycling bin again?”
“No, Daddy, he says you don’t put the one’s in the blue bin he and the other men at the dump like to see out anymore. I wanted to ask him if I can put my dolls in the plastics bin and he said that we can put all plastics in the plastics bin. He said we can even put secret plastic things in the same bin and he won’t tell anyone ever about those secret things. Daddy, what are ‘secret plastics?”
“Suzy, the Waste Management Technician is possibly referring, based on his intense interest in my discarded pornography, to any unwanted artificial penises or vaginas which are readily recyclable and reusable.”
“Why wouldn’t someone want their artificial penises or vaginas… if they don’t have a real penis or vagina?”
“Suzy, please pass the sausages.”
“Yes Mom, but I don’t understand, the instructor told us in Health Science and Understanding, that few elements of the transsexual procedure are synthetic. He said that a prosthesis is seldom needed except in cases where a child is born asexual.”
“Suzy, your mother and I would like you to read further into your Health Science and Understanding text to bring continuity to your query. We’ll talk of this at the Ice Cream Social this Sunday. Now let the other children tell us about their day.”
“Peter, tell us what you’re thinking.” Bob lit an American Spirit and returned the narrow silver lighter to the light-blue cigarette package.
“I don’t want to talk. Dad, let me think. Can I have a cigarette?”
“Sure Son. Will you talk with us if you feel better from the cigarette smoke?”
“I don’t have anything to say. I think maybe the dose level is too high on the Paxil and too low on the Adavan. And, and, a there’s, I can’t maintain an erection and I’m have some suicidal ideations and occasional homicidal scenarios are present in my dream cycle.”
“We’ll have you stay home today and we’ll contact Dr. Stoner today and have him make a house call.”
“Bob, please secure the weapons until Peter is feeling better.”
“There’s really no need Jane. If Peter wants to kill himself then Peter will simply step from the corner of Elm Street into the path of the Fairvale Dynamic Education and Military Preparation Transportation Unit as it passes.”
“Bob, what if Peter’s brothers and sisters are on that very bus as it passes and they witness their own brother’s macerated body purging it’s lifeblood onto our beautiful streets?”
“Well Jane, perhaps they’ll be less traumatized after your description. My point is that if, upon Peter’s pronouncement of severe depression, we do not institutionalize him presently, he can kill himself at any moment if he chooses. Would you like another cigarette Peter?”
“Yes, Father. And I’m not thinking of killing or killing myself I’m thinking of the transdementional creatures described in Louis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland. I’m thinking of asking Johnny to synthesize LSD in the laboratory at school today and perhaps dosing at the Synagogue during Passover.”
“Peter, LSD is legal there’s no need to enlist Johnny in this endeavor.”
“Yes Father, I don’t think the pharmaceuticals have provided complete transcendence.”
“We’ll tell doctor Stoner about your interest when he arrives dear. Please use the ashtray dear.”
“Daddy what’s anal.”
“I’m sorry Tina you’ll need to be more specific.”
“Don’t be obtuse Bob. You know what Tina’s asking and you know we don’t use absence of content to avoid our children’s’ questions.”
“I was only hoping to extend the conversation Jane. It’s alright to be playful?”
“Tina, have you Googled this?”
“Yes, Mother, and there seems to have been wide dissemination of these activities in American pornography in the mid 1990’s. I’ve read that some sociologist believe that the Government may have promoted anal sex in an attempt to stem our population growth; possibly the Vatican may have influenced the pornography industry to depict pleasurable scenarios outside felatio and sexual intercourse. Activities accepted by the Catholic Church.”
“Good Morning children! Breakfast is ready.” Jane calls from the bottom of the newly painted stairs of her Post Future Plantation Style home.
The children, Johnny, Peter, Suzy, and Tina together bustle and tussle down the long curved stairway each dressed for a Fairvale day of squirrel chasing noisy school, scrapped knee whistle playgrounds, grass stained yells and football games, and silent medicated thoughtful sharp pencil studies.
Boy girl, boy girl, boy girl, everyone seats themselves’ on their previously set red neon vinyl chrome kitchen chairs while King the dirty-pawed German Shepard pup scampers in from the tall grass white fenced bird singing yard nail skidding over the gray pink and black spotted linoleum to guard the passing bacon skillet.
“Dad I tested King’s blood yesterday with the GC unit in our chemistry class along with a sample of the Chinese dog food we feed him each morning and there is a direct correlation to the heavy metal content of his food and his blood.”
“Well Johnny, if the PPM is lethal or will cause neurological damage during his adult lifespan we’ll need to have King euthanized this Sunday.”
“Bob, is that necessary? Johnny, have you tested all of the food we eat and made blood samples of each of our family members? We can’t reasonably administer euthanasia upon King if we have similar levels of contamination in or own systems.”
“I’m sorry mom. I shouldn’t have spoken of the results until I’d expanded my sampling.”
“That’s right Son, there no need frightening your brothers and sisters until you can substantiate their fears.”
“Daddy?”
“Yes, Suzy. Have you finished your breakfast?”
“No, Daddy, I will, I only want to ask about the Waste Management Technician.”
“Has he been taking my magazines from the paper recycling bin again?”
“No, Daddy, he says you don’t put the one’s in the blue bin he and the other men at the dump like to see out anymore. I wanted to ask him if I can put my dolls in the plastics bin and he said that we can put all plastics in the plastics bin. He said we can even put secret plastic things in the same bin and he won’t tell anyone ever about those secret things. Daddy, what are ‘secret plastics?”
“Suzy, the Waste Management Technician is possibly referring, based on his intense interest in my discarded pornography, to any unwanted artificial penises or vaginas which are readily recyclable and reusable.”
“Why wouldn’t someone want their artificial penises or vaginas… if they don’t have a real penis or vagina?”
“Suzy, please pass the sausages.”
“Yes Mom, but I don’t understand, the instructor told us in Health Science and Understanding, that few elements of the transsexual procedure are synthetic. He said that a prosthesis is seldom needed except in cases where a child is born asexual.”
“Suzy, your mother and I would like you to read further into your Health Science and Understanding text to bring continuity to your query. We’ll talk of this at the Ice Cream Social this Sunday. Now let the other children tell us about their day.”
“Peter, tell us what you’re thinking.” Bob lit an American Spirit and returned the narrow silver lighter to the light-blue cigarette package.
“I don’t want to talk. Dad, let me think. Can I have a cigarette?”
“Sure Son. Will you talk with us if you feel better from the cigarette smoke?”
“I don’t have anything to say. I think maybe the dose level is too high on the Paxil and too low on the Adavan. And, and, a there’s, I can’t maintain an erection and I’m have some suicidal ideations and occasional homicidal scenarios are present in my dream cycle.”
“We’ll have you stay home today and we’ll contact Dr. Stoner today and have him make a house call.”
“Bob, please secure the weapons until Peter is feeling better.”
“There’s really no need Jane. If Peter wants to kill himself then Peter will simply step from the corner of Elm Street into the path of the Fairvale Dynamic Education and Military Preparation Transportation Unit as it passes.”
“Bob, what if Peter’s brothers and sisters are on that very bus as it passes and they witness their own brother’s macerated body purging it’s lifeblood onto our beautiful streets?”
“Well Jane, perhaps they’ll be less traumatized after your description. My point is that if, upon Peter’s pronouncement of severe depression, we do not institutionalize him presently, he can kill himself at any moment if he chooses. Would you like another cigarette Peter?”
“Yes, Father. And I’m not thinking of killing or killing myself I’m thinking of the transdementional creatures described in Louis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland. I’m thinking of asking Johnny to synthesize LSD in the laboratory at school today and perhaps dosing at the Synagogue during Passover.”
“Peter, LSD is legal there’s no need to enlist Johnny in this endeavor.”
“Yes Father, I don’t think the pharmaceuticals have provided complete transcendence.”
“We’ll tell doctor Stoner about your interest when he arrives dear. Please use the ashtray dear.”
“Daddy what’s anal.”
“I’m sorry Tina you’ll need to be more specific.”
“Don’t be obtuse Bob. You know what Tina’s asking and you know we don’t use absence of content to avoid our children’s’ questions.”
“I was only hoping to extend the conversation Jane. It’s alright to be playful?”
“Tina, have you Googled this?”
“Yes, Mother, and there seems to have been wide dissemination of these activities in American pornography in the mid 1990’s. I’ve read that some sociologist believe that the Government may have promoted anal sex in an attempt to stem our population growth; possibly the Vatican may have influenced the pornography industry to depict pleasurable scenarios outside felatio and sexual intercourse. Activities accepted by the Catholic Church.”