Chapter 7

 The Siamese cat’s interpretation of a three dimensional cube floating briskly on a string made of multifunctional equations didn’t even come close to the warped mind of the man currently pulling levers and apples out of thin air, the man whom this mere mortal page speaks of is indeed one who he does not say he is.

Sitting in his leather chair, he contemplated the demise of his newfound hobby.

“I give up” – he thought “no more of this madness”

Throwing down another one of the apples he walked over to the only window which wasn’t in the room. There wasn’t much in the room really. A small idea ran up to him, demanding his purpose, and it was briskly answered with a sidekick to the respective thinking area of its shapeless body.

Johnathan was not happy.

The last few encounters with the willywitted man he was made to hate, have all ended badly. So badly in fact, that he didn’t even know where to begin describing them.

Luckily, and as luck would have it, he wasn’t alone. Somewhere in the depths of the Joshua’s mind lived a hermit – One that had planed the demise of Joshua for a long time. Of course it never quite worked out as planned. The foolhardy and the semihardy were never as good as they said they were, which was the excuse that this particular hermit used. And now he was standing before a window outside of the room he was sitting in, pulling levers and apples out of thin air.

The resulting thoughts of the original thought were smashed together into a clump of revolving stripes pinned to a loose fitted suit. The occupying body of the said suit was a cleanshaven and one may even say bold chinned man with striking brown eyes and semihaired facial features. Upon the crooked glare of his eyes sat a pair of monocles, which themselves, in their self-righteous glare held up their own pair of monocles. Of course the whole situation of this gravity made the last pair of monocles request some better frames which would go as far as calling themselves spectacle frames, which in their fake brassy way of gold, would loop around the ears of the so described face. He rims of the spectacles were so proud of themselves that their vanity permitted a growth of a thin moustache which they decided should sit just above the lips of the aforementioned man. Who while being thought into existence had been glaring intensely into the weary brains of its creators. Both of whom shared the same body, brain and clothes. One may even say they were the same person sharing a mind of another who was currently on his way to yet another tea break.

Leanard had no idea about what was happening deep inside his most trusted hidden rooms of the subconscious mind. Utterly oblivious, of the nightmarish plotting currently being done just a few mili-inches of thoughtspace away;

Johnathan and Johnathan stood infront of his creation, the monster was almost complete, the suit tightened, and for a finishing touch, a grey double-ended top hat was added on a jaunty angle.

“Johnathan, I name you Johnathan” – they said to each other.

If only Joshua knew of the terrible evil which was about to be unleashed like a tidal wave of puppies unto a grassy field full of landmines. Luckily for the puppies, he did not.

Intermission 1¹

Not only did the five fourths of ninetyfour crashed into the idealogical musing of a man, but did it also cover a whole range of musical notes.

 

Intermission 1³

Coiling around the snake was the ladder of misunderstanding, as Joshua tried explaining the grand theory of misconception to his nearest walking partner to the left. Shuffling their way to work they were all very busy saying the word ‘nothing’ over and over and over until the idea of over was nowhere to be seen and at that point nothing seemed a very far away concept too.

Leanard was the only one who would not shut up about some conspiracy the world had thrust upon him. Nobody actually cared. Yet as so many of our favourite colleagues, we had to deal with his ever bouncing Mohawk consisting entirely of dreadlocks and the way he would rant on and on about things that actually mattered. Nobody should have to endure listening to things that actually matter. Nobody except for a few chosen by the great bottle of wine hidden deep within the mattress of enlightenment, and even that would run its course as a depressed alcoholic and cower under loud noises of unimportant events happening all around it all the time. Just as they did now – at seven and a half quarters into the workday of the coffee everyone had drunk.

The coffee was laced with sugar, by some very secret society that always sneaks in to the coffee factories to spoil everyone’s day.

Of course, everybody knew of this and dared not thank the evildoers, as the coffee tastes rather awful without a five heap of cocaine.

The doers of such a deed were in fact a subculture of Christian descent.

Chapter 76.3911∕9² ≈ 5

If only he had seen. Luckily, he had.

That’s where the trouble began.

Not only a slight nod or a subtle smile but even a casual smirk were all seen and noted down into the wiry blocks of Johnathan’s ever sprinkled nerve endings which resulted themselves into action by sending further signals down to the spire of the revolving bricobracks of the brain.

Revolving and sometimes revolting, the brain of the subconscious half formed semithought, was working at its minimal effort for maximum potential, at such brilliant speeds in fact, that any other independent thoughts floating in the subconsciousness of Joshua Leanard would have been marvellously jealous.

As there were no such other threatening thoughts, the brain continued its miserable crawl towards fame.

Outside..

Outside the outside, which is still inside an office building, was air.
Outside of that..

Walls.

Then some more walls.

Then air.

Then, there was the inside of the same outside that followed the first.

There. Right there, was the only place where nothing was happening. Nothing at all.

And when it did happen, nobody was there to see it. Except for one man, who wasn’t a man but a thought, similar just as my own.

Johnathan was ready, purple lion print slippers nowhere to be seen, he was casually walking up the marble corridors of the VIP though corridor. Stopping occasionally to look at the fine frames of the modern paintings that hung on the walls.

He was a well defined man, having to cut his left dreadlock from the right side of the top of his left armpit, he was on a very important mission: To deliver himself to the food-chained command of the neutrio clump junky that calls itself the brain.

Nothing was in the way now, no not anymore.

It was just up to getting to the brain when Leanard remembered to look at the time, it was after all Time, and you can’t ignore that thing. Some have been known to live and die within seconds of being born, if only they had a watch to double check that life was going at its normal have a mile per square blues.

Much to Leonard’s dismay, it was not. Even more to his dismay, nor was he.

And to top everything off: his watch was missing and it was only thirty seven seconds past nineteen minutes before fifty-nine hours were to pass without notice.

Leanard got out of bed, after realizing that no time has passed between those two unnoted moments, he made another note and fell back into bed.