NOVEMBER ‘DELUDED CUSTODIANS’ CHALLENGE : AN EXQUISITE CORPSE COLLABORATION

From the Desert Dog to the Deep Blue Sea

by Ann James, Martin French and Christine D Richardson

In the fall and winter, we’re up in the sage-strewn hills often, chasing rabbits, hot air balloons, the moon, (which has the nerve to stay no matter how much I bark at it.)

We find quartz, petrified wood, agate, obsidian, and rhyolite. Also called “wonder stone”. You wonder what’s in it.

One piece of petrified wood has the profile of a dog in it. That one’s mine. I’m looking out at the cliffs by the Carson River. Below me, is an image of a certain man whose name shall not be said three times. A fat man, he is nearly crushed by the weight of the hillside closing in on him.

At the bottom is the initial “N” as in ‘never again.’

I’m never too sure of the difference between a warning and an invitation and a challenge. It seems to me that Never Again is suggesting that no one will ever again attempt this, and it feels like my duty to prove them wrong. What else is a guy to do.

I look around, make sure no one is watching. I don’t want people to see what happens to me if this backfires, and if it backfires, I would rather die without embarrassment.

As I am about to put it in my mouth I hear a voice

— Go on. Do it.

I am not one easily peer pressured. If anything, it is the opposite. I stop with my teeth mere centimeters from biting through the outer shell.

— Why should I, I ask.

I look around for the answer, but the only answer that comes is “Why should I”, echoing back narcissistically to me. I am, as I thought, alone in the cavern.

Why would I want to listen to a voice that has no body? I shout my response.

— You can’t reverse psychologize me.

— Psychologize me

— Psychologize me

— Psychologize me.

It feels like this was a bad day to try mushrooms for the first time.

Especially not a whole handful.

One minute I was at Studio 54.

Dancing with Linda Blair.

Why you do this to me, Dimmy?

And the next minute.

I was part of a mermaid harem.

My husband.

Husband?

What do you call the head of a harem?

Sheik?

Sultan?

He may have been Poseidon.

Big trident.

Looked like Anthony Hopkins.

Exactly like Anthony Hopkins.

Weird.

Can I breathe underwater now?

I couldn’t before.

Are mermaids supposed to be cold?

I can’t wear a coat here.

Or socks.

No feet.

I want to go back to the disco.

Can’t dance without feet.

David Bowie was there.

And Andy Gibb

There weren’t any oysters, though.