Kafka's trip to snowflakes anonymous

WALKING AND TALKING

“They tell me it’s Tuesday and that I have to believe them; that it’s important for my sanity that their version of reality is upheld and followed, that the traditions and beliefs that keep society on track and a productive collective is the norm, regardless of what I may feel otherwise.

They tell me creativity is defined as a mental illness and should be treated to keep it under control.
Every day their media tells me what to believe and how to behave and that if I don’t succumb to their propaganda I am not normal.

Meanwhile the machine works overtime to make the drugs to dumb down the many that are awakening.
Over in the artificial plastic of snowflakes anonymous many scream to be heard.
I don’t care what they say, they say too much,” said the girl as she walked in circles talking to her-self.

FORTY WINKS IN THE GRAVEYARD

Dante was wearing his Sunday best and was having forty winks in the graveyard, as you do, it being one of those things you do when you’re there forever.

Things were quiet so he was putting his feet up while his friend and confidant: Kafka, dressed up as a ghost for the day, had gone off slapping over to snowflakes anonymous and had left the gate open to be closed.

As the girl with her auburn and blue hairstyle came into sight with more than enough clothes on to keep warm he thought: “oh-oh, this could be trouble.”

When she saw Dante she walked right up to where he was sitting on a patch of grass and said: “I’m Miss Pretty,” and looked at him as if it meant something.

Well, there was only one thing he could say, so he said it: “yes you are,” he said but didn’t open his arms wide just in case but waited to see what she would do. Her smile had many white teeth and made Dante think: barracuda piranha, but not the toothless kind, which didn’t make any sense just then in the graveyard, but there you go.

Dante was about to ask her if she was from snowflakes anonymous when Kafka came back from his slapping pushing a wheel-barrow full of gold, and that’s when Dante realised all this was above his pay grade, so he just lay back and relaxed and let it all happen around him as it would.

Kafka and the wheel-barrow of gold went off somewhere leaving Dante with all the time in the world to chew a blade of grass and chat to some of the residents about their life before they’d gone and got them-selves buried.
The girl walked in circles around Dante, listening to her echoes as the shadow sniggered from the bushes.

SNOWFLAKES ANONYMOUS

And then tomorrow came again as a byword of yesterday that left Kafka feeling that coffee may not be enough to get him through it somehow. So he bought a bag of fresh garlic and began chewing.

Garlic is a cure-all for everything and the more you eat the more cured you get until a time comes when nothing will come near you. So Kafka decided to give snowflakes anonymous a visit to see how strong the garlic really was; and he took his wheelbarrow just in case.

Kafka entered through the back door so that they wouldn’t see him coming and hung about in the shadows for a while to see what was going on; the wheelbarrow was left just outside just in case he needed to make a quick getaway.
They were all moaning of course and pulling their hair out while plotting revenge and other devious things.

When Kafka entered into them all, he was given a seat near to the front and he wondered if his disguise as a belly baby 3rd generation would hold out, but he needn’t have worried, ghouls never see past the surface of things and they took him at his word.

They were all fired up with hating so there was no chance of dozing off and he didn’t dare take any notes.
It wasn’t long before he was asking himself what he was doing there, it was that intense.

Over in a corner there was a stack of gold that was waiting for a sunny day. It had been abandoned and maybe stolen, or maybe it was just a heavy gift from the heavens.

Kafka’s hand was in his coat pocket and he felt the cloves of garlic, so he popped one in his mouth and munched on it.
Pretty soon he was sitting alone in a small crowd of just him that was gradually seeping outwards. Kafka popped another one and then got up and walked through them and they parted so that he felt like Moses parting the sea.
When Kafka took out his wooden cross and held it up before him they all drew back and it was then he knew that really they were vampires and he just had to get out of there somehow.

Pulling his emergency holy-water out he flicked it before him and it sizzled when it landed on them so that they began to look for places to hide; most of them took cover behind their open mouths that cried in horror at their fate.
It wasn’t long before they began to throw the gold at Kafka and that was when he bolted.

He made it to the front door and got outside, and without another thought he grabbed his wheelbarrow took off down the street with gold falling all around him so that soon his barrow was full. He didn’t look back.

Kafka made it back to the graveyard of all his concerns where the moon-mill was but another turnkey of the exile he found himself in so he thought long and hard about all the things he wasn’t prepared to deal with and it came to him that he was beginning to be overwhelmed by it all.

“What’s up?” asked Dante on seeing the look of doom in his friend’s eyes.
“Nothing,” said Kafka and went off with his wheelbarrow of gold to find a quiet place to hide and figure things out…

End of part 7

https://steemit.com/wisdom/@wales/the-warrior-s-death

https://steemit.com/ghosts/@wales/snowflakes-anonymous

https://steemit.com/warrior/@wales/the-warrior-s-nature-part-two

https://steemit.com/warrior/@wales/the-warrior-from-out-of-the-blue

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