Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Moronovian Christmas

Lohbado had Christmas blues, good evil routine, sin forgiveness merry-go-round, the wheel of happy sad, good times bad times, arrogant and on top of the world a while and then at the bottom, afraid, suspicious and discouraged. The blues ended as three wise aliens appeared in the east and communicated with Lohbado via a Zog-voice-de-scrambler.

Lohbado found himself tranported to a park on the side of an old mountain. He entered the iron gates and approached a graveyard, with a temple-shaped granite structure in the middle. The voice of Zog from the de-scrambler entered the temple of Lohbado's inner ear and echoed inside the brain mansion.

This is a Moronovian Door. Enter in, you slackers and faint-hearted, you who have given up on life, after one too many mishaps, failures, accidents, after too many arguments, after damaging words and shameful behavior. You've arrived on the threshold of the Moronovian Room. Or rather, this is the Gangster Mausoleum. Men and women who lived and died by the sword paid a lot to be remembered, in the fearful and quickly forgotten place of death, in a shady grove on the wet side of an old mountain.

Lohbado looked around and saw holy people and good hearted dreamers climbing the magic mountain, while broken-hearted malingerers got lost in the forest or stuck among thick undergrowth. In the middle of the ragged, poorly maintained hedges stood the Gangster Mausoleum, a monument to big egos, mean son of a bitches, who wanted to be remembered.

But the world goes so fast, the only memory of them that remained was a fading bad feeling. The gangsters were to be feared, but not respected or admired. Lohbado was a mental gangster, who spent too long gazing into the sky, in search of space connections. However, his years of sky-gazing paid off. His seeking eyes saw a space ship land in the clearing, among weeds and long grass. Lohbado rubbed his eyes in amazement as the dust settled and three beings got out of the doughnut-shaped space ship.

A trio of aliens, inhabitants of Planet Zog, a woman about fifty, a woman about twenty-eight and a one-eyed man stood before Lohbado. Their mission was to confirm that Planet Earth was still capable of hosting life forms. Lohbado was the perfect specimen. In all zoglihood, Lohbado, as far as the Zogs could tell, was a classic instance of Zogabilly Zobstance. He followed the aliens through the dark, menacing doorway and into the temple of death. The aliens motioned for him to wait at the side of a granite pool.

Lohbado, whose mind had been blown long ago from looking at clouds and stars too long and from falling into one too many holes due to not watching where he was going, ended up alone and forsaken, with no one to blame but himself. As he stood at the edge of a pink granite pool inside the granite mausoleum and gazed into black, moldy sludge and green slime, Zeb told him to accept Zog breath from Zelda, the youngest of the crew.

Zelda placed her hands on Lohbado's shoulders and breathed into his mouth. He held her breath a few seconds. It felt so good, he wanted to do it again. She said, once is enough. It's too easy to get addicted to Zog breath or dependent on Zelda.

Zeb then handed Lohbado a cup of liquified breath, a distilled mixture of nitrous oxide, oxygen and hydrogen with a dash of blood to give it flavor. Lohbado drank from the cup of Zog. His eyes opened to the error of his ways. He fell down on his knees and begged forgiveness.

Zelda told him to get up. The three space aliens got back in the Zocket Ship and flew away. Lohbado's heart overflowed with Christmas cheer.

"God bless us everyone," he cried, as the Zocket Ship roared back to Planet Zog.

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