Chapter 10: The descent into madness

"Some people, compair living to a fifth of a matress; Its never big enough or long enough. Others, compair it to the comparison between a dinosaur toe and a lion's hair.
Joshua was one of those which could not be bothered even thinking about the huge comparisons and the price rise which they included. It was a busy world after all, who could allow themselves all this nonsense.

Joshua span the fork fifty five angles to the right of his left toe. Which was a little swollen from the last thursdays toe battles in the caffeteria. The fork kept spinning around its own axis, and then around the axis of the toe itself, not shortly after, the toe followed suit and before Joshua could recite the fiftieth verse from the good book of the evil names (which was hidden upon the bookshelf of the great mage hoodini) he was also spinning around the axis of the fork, which was now severely entangled in his toe.

This may be a good time to mention that there is nothing more worth mentioning than the mentioning of the above statement.

'Circulosis they call it.'
Johnathan span around. Madness, dressed in her usual blander than nothing anyone has ever seen coat was standing between the arched pathways of the brain.
'what do you mean.. Circulosis?' he asked her, while trying to not sound too obtuse.
'Well look at him, spinning around like the bonfire of paris!'

This maybe a good time to note that G minor, was not included in the soundtrack to Johnathan's history lessons (((Lessons he never actually recieved) merely tried taking the credit for Joshuas extended studies of Parisian nightlife) which he only learned about form foreign magazines)

'Paris!' Joshua exclaimed.
'Yes.. What about it?' Said his boss, who was kindly waiting for Joshua to stop spinning and jumping on the spot from the fork which had somehow embedded itself into his foot.
'Just.. Paris.. and nothing else' Joshua wasn't actually sure why he spat the half chewed potato/carrot (cooked slowly under a severe surveillance of a crooked nosed chef) into his bosses face under the exclamation of 'Paris'

'Have you ever thought of a jobchange?' said madness to Johnathan
'A jobchange?? to what??'

'A professional winethrower??' Joshua was enraged. How dare some snobby nitworker dare him to change this beloved job as a professional wine thrower.. ..wait a minute.. how did he know how to throw wine so well anyway? and since when did he work as a wine thrower anyway?

'Stupid question, i know, but when someone decides to rule the world, how does he intend to do it?'
Madness was getting  brighter by the second of the hour (which fitted into its own little compartment on the ship labelled Dandeline Shores. the captain of which was none other than the man who lives across the road from that place where the sun never stops shining and the people always march up and down the concrete stairs in pairs of three or more)
Johnathan wasn't liking all the questions. Something wasn't right..

'No, No No! Its left! look!' Joshua grabbed the map from a specific passerby, one that was holding out a map like a lost tourist in the only place which did not have  any tourism or attractions for the people of their kind.
'Look. Turn left, then left, then, turn left, Then. Turn Left.. and finally..'

'That's what I meant by Circulosis. A terrible case actually' Madness shook her red hair and smiled like a crocodile before having a meeting with a human, suspended on a fishing line from a bungee tower.

Joshua unlike his counterpart, didn't notice anything odd about this actual situation and continued rolling stones made of tiny strands of hair from his arms, down the unforeseen events of the human eye. Although in his deep unnerved endings he felt a chill.
His counterpart also known as Johnathan, flustered, because for once in his single moment of all sub-mentioned existance he realised something of grave importance..

'I think there has been a terrible mistake' Joshua said as he looked at the map.
The map was upside down.
So was everything else. Not just that, but everything was not quite affected by gravity as it should have been.
And by that, Johnathan didn't just mean that the Montreal Express had crashed. But the rails which it was running on, had warped and twisted so far beyond recognition that not even nine-tenth of fifty, became a rotating orange, an orange upon which villages and societies sprawled and expanded, each with their own specific craftsmanship, each living a philosophy so vastly different to any that anybody knew, that both, Johnathan and Johnathan, could not have even come close to perceiving the great theories and ideas of those worlds. So beyond in their own right that they were, that in realizing what they were,  they wrote themselves out of existence.

Joshua had a headache"  - Leanard thought to himself.

How can it be that the idea of the idea can grow so vastly unimportant that even the slightest notch on the bump of its mediocre appearance could go unnoticed in our modern day.

Leanard sighed and kept walking back home from a long day at work.
                                                                              

Prologue to Interval 11 of intermission 4

The droplets of condensation sat harmlessly on the glass of the window overlooking a small town, in which the said glass resided. Occasionally the droplets would quiver from the oily skin which the nicotine smoke gave them. The Nicotine and its partner - tar, were very much filling up the small apartment room, overlooking the window which was in turn over looking the town.
Leanard Joshua Johnathan was planning his demise. Many days he had spent on this exact spot, swirling a glass of wine in the small goblet shaped goblet made of thin glass, somewhat resembling a wine cup, which could have been said that it resembled a glass. Alas, say so, it could not, and so it continued resembling a cup in shape of a goblet.
Every now and then, when the cup neared its fullest, Johnathan would empty its contents onto the passing men, and occasionally women, who were happily stalking the streets, under the forty ninth level of the building.
Joshua Leanard was never awake during these fleeting moments of passing time, and perhaps it was all for the best.
But it wasn't.
Indeed it was perhaps for the very worst.
But it still wasn't.
In all fading fact, it was for a very neutral.
The consequences of these episodes were so minute that even minuteness had left to attend better business elsewhere.Nevertheless, and the less was never. Johnathan carried on plotting against the great oppressor of crushed dreams and undying thoughts.
Having to dedicate most of his energy on staying in control  of the vessel body, Johnathan had only some time to think, the rest of his time was currently flying down and dispersing slightly in a manifestation of sweet red Lambrusco, which within minutes of seconds, it would hit a very calculated position.
"Damnit" Johnathan mouthed.
The wine splashed onto a patch of pavement, missing a white dress of a bachelorette, who was coming uptown from a very lousy party, which she was never invited to anyway.

Meanwhile, Leanard stumbled through his own intestinal passages of the submind.
"Dreams" he said bitterly. "that's the reason why I never get any sleep at night"

But we all know that the reason for his insomnia was in fact the same reason why he couldn't sleep at night:
Cheese..
Was the very fine and genius idea Johnathan had instilled into Leanard' mind. This was of course after Johnathan had pleaded innocence to an entire range of various mutinies against the mind itself. But hard boiled wit was no match for a sleepy brain, which had to process a billion of these thoughts every year. And a year was of course a long time when one is trapped in the grey goo lurking just beyond the stream of conscious thought, so the decision to eat nine grams of cheese before bed, was overthrown by the thought of eating 73 times that original amount.

So there he stood. Smug, at the fact that he could smoke up the entire appartment and repeatedly refill his goblet of wine just to empty it on the nearest passerby.
If only he knew that this was the beginning of leanards carrer as a professional wine thrower.
If he did know, then he made no show of it, so for now, let us make an ass of you and me by believing that he didnt.
He probobly did.
Not like we'll ever find out about it.