Wednesday, 25 February 2009

Section 2, 3

He used to live at the Storey institute. He is psychic and responds to you thinking his name. His name is Zig-zag. Stop for a moment and think of that name, Zig-zag. And if you hear a mewing sound it might be Zig-zag. If you do see Zig-zag please do not think about poetry because his owner was a sad man and used to write poetry to women then refuse to reply to these women’s notes. And these were women with good jobs, like delivering lunchtime lectures about unicorns at the Storey Institute. Maybe in some sick way this man, this Zig-zag owner thought this was funny – like it might be funny to dress as a giant eyeball and follow a woman home - but one of these women might have sent him a note as a reply, slipped it into his jacket pocket, and she might even have been married, yet still sent him this note saying how she felt, and that she felt exactly as he did, and that they should meet up, and this man, this poem-man, this poetry scribbling man just ignores her and stops coming to the lunchtime lectures like that. People like him are not worth anything. Please find Zig-zag.

(He’s got some colourful ideas about mad scientists has our Charlie. That’s his problem, locked away in his own head, who knows what goes on. Have a read here)

No comments:

Post a Comment