That’s why I joined The Cult. The Cult Club, where people meet and have a good time talking about having more good times at a later date until they die and new people take their place on a spaceship. That is the motto that drew me like a Scottish eye-rub to the inner-circle.
The leader of The Cult James Iam Zumdoby was born in Wittstack, Pennsylvania. That is how he came to meet The Sky Cartographer, Evenlyn Gray. Gray transcribed some conversations with God in the hills during the full moon of the Ayatollah in January 1979* and gave them to Uncle James, as everyone called him, for safe keeping until the end of time.
The nature of the organization was spelled out like so: we are not actually a cult but we call ourselves The Cult ironically to see who gets to join by the way they respond to initiation in what potential members believe to be openly advertising as a cult. At the time, it made perfect sensee but I lost the vision with that sentence a while ag0.
The way it was explained to me, Evenlyn would take hashish at about midnight on the first day of spring after the even tide. She would begin scrying from a rancid toilet bowl located in a rest area adjacent to a marsh that once belonged to Sam Colt. Evenlyn eventually discovered the secret of raising what some consider the most elusive known demon, Jinsol. Of course, Evelyn thought she was just making happy birds come to visit her randomly when she drew a circle and a star under her bed in the Indelible Ink of The Before Time.
When Jinsol arrived casually, as he always does (he knocked on the front door and asked if the owner would like to talk about switching to Spectrum for only $29.99 a month for cable, internet, and phone!). Luckily, Evelyn distracted him with a thimble which looked like it might belong to an ancient seamstress who ruined his heart when, out of nowhere, James appeared wearing a suit of armor that was made with Jinsol’s mother’s placenta that was the only thing that could ever ruin Jinsol’s power.
James then chanted a phrase in a lost tongue that no one understood except me, and Jinsol jumped into the letters in a story. That story is this story that you are reading but don’t worry because the magic is at the stop on the row – for the demon cannot get past the dot that goes at the very end of the sentence.
Evenlyn had her best friend Janet Wand write it down in a book so that, should any residual Jinsol curse magic ever vex again, with this trap: any demons will fall onto the words and die there forever miserable about the outcome and ultimately resigned to that inescapable fate.
I joined The Cult when I was young and I had no hope or future living on the streets doing dope and everything else that you’ve ever heard of and wondered a great deal about. You may even have spread awareness about some of those conditions at a lavish dinner sponsored by crabs and bourbon liquor. Next, while you were appropriating my culture with one hand, ignoring my humanity with the other, I was just kind of sitting there, at a bus stop. That’s when Evelyn’s niece saw me, and told me, don’t worry, we found you.
I knew they were looking for me. I had known for some time that someone was going to try and con me for something. At the time I thought I owned a lost work of art from a lost artist who was forgotten but once considered the greatest of all time by the six people who knew her. I had one of her paintings, of a canyon or a meadow called Boxxy, the others were destroyed in a fire that I set.
My guide later advised me that the painting was worthless but that she needed me to think it was worth something so that I would meet Sue Caine. That turned out to be a lie, but my guide explained to me later still that she didn’t think I should get all that money because I would only do bad stuff to strangers for fun like her. Boxxy’s fate is still unknown at this time, it went missing one evening.
Sue Caine showed me the way. I learned it in about a fortnight of years. I went through three phases: the initiation, the lulling phase, and the auction. During the auction, God and the Devil took turns bidding for my soul.
A baby is the same as an old person, a cat and a dog are the identical same thing, and mice might or might not be conjuring up Satan when they go vooomp. That may be why cat’s are soon to follow. I could go on with my wisdom but my guide tells me it might be too pretentious to keep mentioning her in every paragraph. She just wants better for me.
They mock us for our beliefs, of course. We each took an oath that we know that “the dirties”, as we call non-members of The Cult, will never dissuade us from the great work we are achieving. Well, we do stuff. We organize events and always try to have a stellar presence at any parade. Social media? Are you asking about social media? We have over a thousand followers.
It is hard to be a “good person” as we call members. The road is narrow, the way is steep, the steam is melting at my feet. If Jesus walked on water maybe it was ice, and maybe all jews are not that nice while orientals all eat rice. We were taught to chant whenever we even think of chanting. Our chants were written before Bethlehem was a sprawling ranch owned by an authoritarian lynch mob with fields of grain around the edges and snow eagles would eat bibies called Philistine almonds in spring.
We are not allowed to have bibies. The Boko forbids it very strictly. The Boko contains the truth. Evenlyn Gray wrote it over a period of three days. She did not sleep but she was not tired. That is the third miracle, called The Awakeness. When that day comes around, August something, or the third something in the something of the whatever moon, we all get together for crab and bourbon while Sarah Caine, Sue’s sister-in-law, passes around the shame plate.
You are to be ashamed of property as if it were a taboo plague. Therefore, when we celebrate Awakeness, we must be aware that valuable assets are only an obstacle blocking our path. We therefore must be ashamed and meekly put all valuables we have obtained in the last year into the shame plate.
If we do not, and someone knows, for instance that you own a beach property that you might have been hoarding for yourself like I did, you get locked into a closet for three moons. That also helps when they say, if you just sign on the red arrows in the presence of a notary, we will let you out of the closet.
When I’m in the closet closed, I cannot have a doctor or a nose. I cannot eat, I cannot have a bong, I must think of what I’ve done, what I will do all the summer long. As I lie in shame I know I’ve bought this prison on my own, I’m a dummy, a stupid, a lousy, a shameless Joan who wonders by herself when she’s all alone. What I sign is not duress, it is the love of God’s caress.
When the lights went on, there on the back wall, Boxxy herself, looking all like a meadow. Now tell me there ain't no magic.
The leader of The Cult James Iam Zumdoby was born in Wittstack, Pennsylvania. That is how he came to meet The Sky Cartographer, Evenlyn Gray. Gray transcribed some conversations with God in the hills during the full moon of the Ayatollah in January 1979* and gave them to Uncle James, as everyone called him, for safe keeping until the end of time.
The nature of the organization was spelled out like so: we are not actually a cult but we call ourselves The Cult ironically to see who gets to join by the way they respond to initiation in what potential members believe to be openly advertising as a cult. At the time, it made perfect sensee but I lost the vision with that sentence a while ag0.
The way it was explained to me, Evenlyn would take hashish at about midnight on the first day of spring after the even tide. She would begin scrying from a rancid toilet bowl located in a rest area adjacent to a marsh that once belonged to Sam Colt. Evenlyn eventually discovered the secret of raising what some consider the most elusive known demon, Jinsol. Of course, Evelyn thought she was just making happy birds come to visit her randomly when she drew a circle and a star under her bed in the Indelible Ink of The Before Time.
When Jinsol arrived casually, as he always does (he knocked on the front door and asked if the owner would like to talk about switching to Spectrum for only $29.99 a month for cable, internet, and phone!). Luckily, Evelyn distracted him with a thimble which looked like it might belong to an ancient seamstress who ruined his heart when, out of nowhere, James appeared wearing a suit of armor that was made with Jinsol’s mother’s placenta that was the only thing that could ever ruin Jinsol’s power.
James then chanted a phrase in a lost tongue that no one understood except me, and Jinsol jumped into the letters in a story. That story is this story that you are reading but don’t worry because the magic is at the stop on the row – for the demon cannot get past the dot that goes at the very end of the sentence.
Evenlyn had her best friend Janet Wand write it down in a book so that, should any residual Jinsol curse magic ever vex again, with this trap: any demons will fall onto the words and die there forever miserable about the outcome and ultimately resigned to that inescapable fate.
I joined The Cult when I was young and I had no hope or future living on the streets doing dope and everything else that you’ve ever heard of and wondered a great deal about. You may even have spread awareness about some of those conditions at a lavish dinner sponsored by crabs and bourbon liquor. Next, while you were appropriating my culture with one hand, ignoring my humanity with the other, I was just kind of sitting there, at a bus stop. That’s when Evelyn’s niece saw me, and told me, don’t worry, we found you.
I knew they were looking for me. I had known for some time that someone was going to try and con me for something. At the time I thought I owned a lost work of art from a lost artist who was forgotten but once considered the greatest of all time by the six people who knew her. I had one of her paintings, of a canyon or a meadow called Boxxy, the others were destroyed in a fire that I set.
My guide later advised me that the painting was worthless but that she needed me to think it was worth something so that I would meet Sue Caine. That turned out to be a lie, but my guide explained to me later still that she didn’t think I should get all that money because I would only do bad stuff to strangers for fun like her. Boxxy’s fate is still unknown at this time, it went missing one evening.
Sue Caine showed me the way. I learned it in about a fortnight of years. I went through three phases: the initiation, the lulling phase, and the auction. During the auction, God and the Devil took turns bidding for my soul.
A baby is the same as an old person, a cat and a dog are the identical same thing, and mice might or might not be conjuring up Satan when they go vooomp. That may be why cat’s are soon to follow. I could go on with my wisdom but my guide tells me it might be too pretentious to keep mentioning her in every paragraph. She just wants better for me.
They mock us for our beliefs, of course. We each took an oath that we know that “the dirties”, as we call non-members of The Cult, will never dissuade us from the great work we are achieving. Well, we do stuff. We organize events and always try to have a stellar presence at any parade. Social media? Are you asking about social media? We have over a thousand followers.
It is hard to be a “good person” as we call members. The road is narrow, the way is steep, the steam is melting at my feet. If Jesus walked on water maybe it was ice, and maybe all jews are not that nice while orientals all eat rice. We were taught to chant whenever we even think of chanting. Our chants were written before Bethlehem was a sprawling ranch owned by an authoritarian lynch mob with fields of grain around the edges and snow eagles would eat bibies called Philistine almonds in spring.
We are not allowed to have bibies. The Boko forbids it very strictly. The Boko contains the truth. Evenlyn Gray wrote it over a period of three days. She did not sleep but she was not tired. That is the third miracle, called The Awakeness. When that day comes around, August something, or the third something in the something of the whatever moon, we all get together for crab and bourbon while Sarah Caine, Sue’s sister-in-law, passes around the shame plate.
You are to be ashamed of property as if it were a taboo plague. Therefore, when we celebrate Awakeness, we must be aware that valuable assets are only an obstacle blocking our path. We therefore must be ashamed and meekly put all valuables we have obtained in the last year into the shame plate.
If we do not, and someone knows, for instance that you own a beach property that you might have been hoarding for yourself like I did, you get locked into a closet for three moons. That also helps when they say, if you just sign on the red arrows in the presence of a notary, we will let you out of the closet.
When I’m in the closet closed, I cannot have a doctor or a nose. I cannot eat, I cannot have a bong, I must think of what I’ve done, what I will do all the summer long. As I lie in shame I know I’ve bought this prison on my own, I’m a dummy, a stupid, a lousy, a shameless Joan who wonders by herself when she’s all alone. What I sign is not duress, it is the love of God’s caress.
When the lights went on, there on the back wall, Boxxy herself, looking all like a meadow. Now tell me there ain't no magic.
* This was the very first time the Ayatollah’s face
was on the moon. The second time, more people saw it and that explains why
few remember the first appearance: it was eclipsed by the second appearance.
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Now be honest.