Revelation!

The other day, I had a blood test. It required that I fast for three days. That is, no alcohol for three days, and then nothing after dinner until I go in for the blood work the next morning. It makes for a light headiness. The kind of state I'm sure mystics get when they abstain. This state of mind is perfect for revelations.

I had a blunt needle sunk into my arm that felt as if the nurse was trying to stop the flow of oil at an underwater derrick. This shattering pain to my arm added to my mystical revelation that night. That and the bottle of Boodles gin I bought to go with the steaks we would have for dinner. Nothing like gin and steak, especially after a fast.

The first martini brought on euphoria. The second martini heightened the euphoria and by the time I was on the fourth martini, I was in a heightened state of euphoric bliss. Much like mystics get as they gaze at the world from their cave. Except that martinis are far more easier to induce this state of bliss than roasted dung beetles and mare sweat of the standard mystic.

I'm sitting in the backyard near the chickens, the girls and one bull dyke chicken were in the hen house sleeping off a corn high when I saw at the Zionist Jihad Party Boys' bunker that someone was watching me. Watching me watching them. It caused a freeze to my limbs. Like a deer stuck in the headlights of a car. I was about to light my pipe of homegrown herb when the discovery occurred. We stared at each other unable to move. Finally, he left and that gave me time to strike the lighter, puff and ponder.

What was the Jihad Party Boy doing out in the alley? It required more euphoric mare sweat in the form of Boodles for a clearer picture. While in my required intoxicated state of bliss, enjoying the warm night air, a black SUV pulled up slowly in the alley in back of the Zionist Jihad bunker. It stayed there, silent and hulking before a man got out and went into the bunker. A few minuets later he came out with a paper bag in hand and left. All the while, I felt that a Party Boy was keeping an eye on me. I couldn't see him but my heightened state of euphoria gave me that knowledge. It's something only us mystics can understand.

Now, one could draw the obvious conclusion that the black SUV had just scored some kind of drug. But what drug?

A large bunker with little land left for greenery, one green barrel for organic waste, two black barrels for trash and two blue barrels for recyclables. Most people in the hood have one of each. I have three greens but use only one, the other two are used for the gardeners when they work on the front and one for me to save compost material until ready to compost.

So, they can't be growing marijuana. If it was herb in the bunkers they wouldn't waste energy on lighting the outside, they would have more organic matter to toss and they wouldn't need two blues and two black barrels. What are Zionist Party Boys known for in European circles? Purveyors of Ecstasy. They are making Ecstasy in the bunkers and selling it. That's why the happy clap-clap songs. The touching and the two blue barrels and two black barrels for the refuge of the chemicals to make Ecstasy.

Mean Queen and Daddy know nothing of it. Mean Queen and Daddy had a huge fight last night and in my transported state of euphoria, their fight turned real ugly. Mean Queen had mean words with Daddy and Daddy grumbled and swore. Daddy threatened and Mean Queen shrieked. It went on and on and I thought on waking this morning that they must have burnt important documents in the palace's fireplace until I realized the smell of something burning was from the incense coil I lit the other day and forgot about. But that in no way effected the outcome of the struggle for power between Mean Queen and Daddy. While retrieving the morning paper today, both left at the same time this morning in different cars, without a wave or smile at me or each other.

No Ecstasy for them, no blue barrel of empty plastic water bottles. Nope, just rage and ruin until they spent themselves of their hatred for one another. Mean Queen and Daddy need mare sweat and roasted dung beetles. Mean Queen and Daddy need a night of ecstasy and water before the palace comes tumbling down and exposes the vast tunnel system laden with eggs, slaves and WMD.