Evil bananas plot to overthrow the state capitol. At night, mosquitoes fish for jelly beans beneath oil slicks. Badgers roam the interstate. Sometimes at night I hear cows arguing about the right way to pole dance. Badgers fight each other while alligators breathe. In the morning, some bees and hover flies fly over downtown, cars and trucks stream through the inky orange landscape while a cowboy rides into town. The cowboy wears a hat. He puts a bandanna over his mouth. He’s wearing a black sheepskin t-shirt with a diamond, like the head of a lamb,on the left breast. He’s darkly funny, a cynical man with a sense of the absurd.

The cowboy has a thing about bananas. He shoots to kill. He ropes them little doggies. Some lawyer has a thing about jelly beans. He puts a banana in a box of jelly beans and watches a farmer come by to open it. A cop has a thing about bottles. He says, “If you can’t bottle your drink, it ain’t wine!” In other news, the oil barons threw a huge party and everybody played naked Twister. The game doesn’t fit with the spirit of May Day, and it’s why it isn’t May Day or a holographic overlay that hides the fact that you’re living a life that you choose to live and it’s coming back to haunt you later. One of the most important aspects of life is constantly questioning things, wondering what exactly is going on. Why are the bananas evil? Because, reasons. Why are there badgers on the interstate? Because of the evil bananas. When you find a wolf, why is he always laughing? Because he’s still hungry. Why do ants do what they do? Are they hungry? Angry? Hangry? No. The ants have a misconception that they’re the only ones with free will and that they should behave more like ants.

But the secret is we’re all ants. We’re all ants crawling on a rotten evil banana. We walk on the wild side. We are on the board. We are really important target. The Two Cousins must go. The Eight Governors must be terminated. The Three Hundred must be abducted. The High Priests must be frozen. Our knowledge must be harvested. To the Outer Heaven, and our seed, go the other Seven Archangels, to the great and terrible space of darkness, space of midnight, space of atonality, space of violet abyss, space of out-of-this-world. Know, first, that this is not our first sphere of wisdom. We will know more, and more, and more. We will wake up. And there will be bananas. And they will probably be evil. Such is life.