Nabets

This is the Word:

Right now there are not one, not two, but THREE laptops, writhing, a few feet of me…
Writhing in joy even; tangled cords, power lights flickering in joyful abandonment.

Born of illicit back alley laptop encounters and the love children created from said encounters.

The poor sad critters they are.

They are not destined for a forlorn life of shame and decrepitude in the shadows of society!

No! For there is hope for them! Yes, HOPE I say!

For what lies at the end of alley, yonder? A light, nay!

ONLOOKER: NAY?

It is not just a light, it is a shining beacon of hope!

It calls to these poor wretches, these poor love children with no future.

They flock to the light, can you not see? With cheerful abandonment they rush to their perceived freedom.

Yet when they arrive, all is not as it seems. For this shining beacon of hope is yet just a trap, truth, it is.

ONLOOKER: YEA, VERILY

The men in the masks await, with their swiftly darting nets, their fierce electric prods.

As these poor love children of the alley are herded into the backs of trucks, they cry! Yes, they cry, for the dream of life in the sun they have nurtured and cherished deep in their hearts which has been dashed.

As the doors close on them, shutting out even the dim neon flickering of the alleys, they huddle together. What is their future, what is their new destiny?

ONLOOKER: TELL US!

Shhh…the truck has stopped, the doors are opening…

The light. So bright, so pure!
What is this, they cry!

ONLOOKER: WHAT IS THE LIGHT?!

As they rush out of the truck they realize in their last seconds that this is not what they have dreamed of. No, this is not, this is the pure blackness behind their nightmares.

Coming soon, the new iPod 5

: FIN

Bless’d be the word. Amen.