McHajj: Part XV
- Please send as far and wide as possible.
Editor, The Konformist
Jaye C. Beldo
*Please note: The McHajj series you are about to read came to me
directly via a series of disturbing dreams, dreams which continue to
haunt me at present. These dreams, more like interminable nightmares,
have resulted from life long exposure to advertising in the
relentlessly predatory, capitalistic society that I'm haphazardly
posited in. In order to deal with the severe psychological trauma
such exposure has caused me, I have translated what my unconscious
mind has directly conveyed to me into the story below. It is the only
way I know how to cope with the constant trespassing into my psyche
by the corporate powers which loom about in a most menacing and
merciless fashion. Thank you for understanding my dilemma. BTW: I am
currently starting a twelve step support group for those who may
believe that they are victims of a similar kind of corporate
psychological terrorism. I will provide more information in the near
future...if there is one. Thank you!
"Trouble's a comin'." The Marlboro Man yells across the span
separating the crosses on a deserted, decimated Mount Arafat,
intravenous tubes dangling from his arms in the wind. Ronald McDonald
shakes himself out of his crucified stupor and peers down the slope
at the oncoming portent. Emerging from a dust devil, the Pillsbury
Doughboy runs with Olympic agility, carrying a torch in one hand, his
baby in the other. He tops out at the summit before the rest of the
crew which lags behind, deliberately shrouded in the whirling cloud
halfway up the mountain.
"I've got a surprise for you fellas." The Doughboy turns a few
circles holding up his plastic progeny which hisses and squirms,
exposed to the unrelenting Middle Eastern sun like a vampire without
a place to hide. "Grandpa Aleister said that whichever one of you
dies first...has to incarnate into my son here. It's the law."
"Great." Ronald McDonald says, his heart caving in even more. "I give
birth to a creepy corporate egg somewhere in Joisey. I get fucked
over in Hollywood by some misfit shamarchists that can't think their
way out of a parallel universe and now my soul has to inhabit a G.I.
Joe doll." Ronald takes a deep breath, pulls some prana in through
his medulla oblongata and down his spinal column like a Kriya
yogi. "The hell if I'm going to die first. I've got samadhi in my
cross hairs. I ain't never coming back again."
A gunshot comes from the direction of the advancing dust devil. A 9
mm hollowpoint bullet slams into the clown's Ajna chakra and shatters
his skull. L. Ron Hubbard emerges from the cloud, jams his high
capacity Glock back into an alligator skin holster under his jacket
and scans the sky above for satellite surveillance.
"That's what you think, jerk."
Ronald dies before the seven words can be uttered.
Aleister emerges from the dust devil and runs up to the base of
Ronald McDonald's cross, pulls out his Ronco Necromonicon from under
his gown, puts his dunce cap on and proceeds to lip synch some
obscene incantations he finds buried in the appendix. The clown's
soul spirals directly into the doll. G.I. Joe, sufficiently animated,
howls like a Coyote and then squirms out of the Doughboy's hand. He
rolls around in the sand, then runs over to the Marlboro Man and
kneels at the base of his cross.
"You're so lucky....it could have been you." G.I. McDonald says to
the Marlboro Man and breaks down weeping. "Now look at me."
"You're supposed to be tabula rasa...so shut up." The Marlboro Man
retorts, unimpressed with the emotion.
The rest of the group emerges out of the dust devil: Anton, Jack
Parsons and the Charmin Teddy Bear. Jack climbs up on Ronald
McDonald's cross, pulls the rubber nose off the cadaver with a pop
and wipes the grease paint away with a checkered flag snatched from
Dale Earnhardt's coffin. He reaches in through the gaping bullet
wound in the forehead and pulls out some half dollar sized piece of
gristle with barbed tentacles and throws it towards his colleagues.
"So Mr. Casey.....the CIA's PR boys weren't lying now were they?"
Jack says. He jumps down from the cross and wipes his hands in the
sand. "Hate to tell you L. Ron, but you shot an honest man."
The Charmin Bear takes advantage of the distraction, runs over to
G.I. Joe and block tackles him. He locks him in a Half Nelson. "This
kid is mine." He declares and starts wrestling with the doll. G.I.
Joe manages to break free of the Charmin Teddy Bear's grip and climbs
the crucifix, walks out on the crossbeam and then sits on the
Marlboro Man's shoulder.
"I'm the one that knocked up that Doughboy slut...he's mine." The
Bear tries to climb up on the cross to claim his prize.
"Enough out of you." L. Ron says and puts the gun to the Charmin
Teddy Bear's head. "If you don't stay in line...I'll make you clear.
The inexpensive way."
"Leave him alone." Anton La Vey says. "Just a father's
instinct...that's all. Listen everybody...I'm really getting weary of
our dysfunctional little family. I think we all need some counseling
or something. Maybe Forum would do us a world of good or Avatar."
"I'm going to ignore your overtly reactive mind Anton." L. Ron says
and lets the bear go. "Hey Aleister." L. Ron yells. " We got the
wrong man. Anything in your book that can exorcise Ronald McDonald's
soul from this G.I. Joe?" He asks, barely able to hide his regret. He
betrays the one single engram left in his brain, for a tear emerges
from his eye.
Grandpa Aleister sits down and pages through his tattered Ronco
Necronomicon. "Damn it Ronny...think before you shoot next
time...will you? I can't ad lib these incantations. You don't know
what kind of trouble they'll cause if I don't get them right."
"Don't tell me what do to you...you Luxor reject...you're the one
that ripped me off. Not the other way around like all the conspiracy
"Hey Ronny...is it true that you said, 'if you want to make a million
dollars, start your own religion'?" G.I. Joe says from high above,
mimicking the cowboy's voice. L. Ron turns around and drops the
hammer of his Glock on the Marlboro Man. G.I. Joe loses his balance
as the bullet pierces through the cowboy's heart and slams into the
solid Mahogany crucifix. He somersaults all the way to the ground. L.
Ron picks him up. He kisses the doll on the cheek.
"Yeah...it's true. I did say that." Mr. Hubbard confesses to G.I. Joe.
The Marlboro Man's excarnated soul filters through G.I. Joe's
polysorbate 93 seasoned fontanel. Thus further enlivened, G.I. Joe
climbs on top of L. Ron's Greek Sailor cap and raises his hands to
the sky, palms upward.
Aleister faces towards L. Ron and shuts his book. "Chill out will
you? If any of this gets leaked to Brookhaven we'll never get another
gig for as long as we're trapped on the astral plane. This is not
occult protocol at all."
"Hey you monkeys....I've got some bad news for you." Anton La Vey
yells from the Marlboro Man's crucifix. He takes the cowboy's hat off
and puts it on his bald head. He reaches into the vest pocket of the
aborted Messiah and pulls out a tooled leather wallet. He pulls some
plastic cards out, files through them and tosses a driver's license
and credit cards at the feet of L. Ron and Aleister.
"And you thought the axis of evil didn't exist." Anton says, pulling
the rubber mask off the impostor. "Where have all the cowboys gone?"
He starts to sing and then climbs down from the crucifix to join the
Aleister picks up the driver's license. The mug shot is of someone he
recognizes: Kim Jong II of North Korea. The alphabet used for the
I.D. : Cyrillic. Plastic used for the laminate: otherworldly. He
shows the I.D. to G.I. Joe who shakes his head in disgust. Anton puts
on the rubber Marlboro Man mask and starts dancing. "Where have all
the cowboys gone?" He sings, pretending to gallop like a horse around
Kim Jong II hanging on the cross.
"Damn it Ronny...you shot the wrong man again! George W. is gonna be
pissed off when he finds out that one of his best stooges has been
iced." Aleister forewarns.
"On this day of the resurrection of our Lords, I declare myself
General Joe." The Moonchild yells, warding off an incoming sirocco
from Yemen with his voice.
Upon cue, Aleister, L. Ron, Anton, Jack P., the Pillsbury Doughboy,
the Charmin Teddy Bear all line up and stand at attention. General
Joe starts to pace back and forth, hands clasped behind his back. His
soldiers automatically salute him. The Pillsbury Doughboy steps
forward and hands him the torch and falls back in line.
"It is imperative that we short circuit god so that he won't kill Mr.
Bush. Gurdjieff may be advising the Iraqi High Command so we do have
to take the threat seriously. We need to mobilize our own special
troops that are now hiding in underground vaults in the Pankisi Gorge
if we're going to corral those camel jockeys. I know exactly what
tricks Saddam has up his sleeve as well. He's got North Korean
soldiers hiding up in British Columbia that will swoop down on the
U.S.A. at the drop of his fez. Now that Kim Jong is out of the
picture his soldiers are really up for grabs."
General Joe looks over the land spreading out from Mount Arafat and
then turns to face his troop.
"L. Ron.... are we clear?"
"We'll then..gentleman....start your engines!" General Joe says
waving the Olympic torch in triumph.
To be continued
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