Victory Boogie Woogie

Single Malt , fathoms deep, we truly slayed the Dragon! Summersaults & Exultation, we sunk her boorish brigades! We smote, we kicked, we overthrew, we victory-victora-victoriayed! So do the hornpipe, dance with us, adore on the wall this taxidermy of a single breast. Lick the stripper glitter from our vest. Fourteen souls on the dead man’s chest. Ha ha ha and cha cha cha, all suave, divine; and a royal gulp of wine. Oh joy! Oh rapture! Hoorah, hoorah! Up she rises, slay the bugger for there she, there she, thar she blows! Sing tooralooralooraloo. Thanks and praises, naughty phrases, tonight we’ll sing our songs and moon a copper’s wife. We slayed the Dragon for good!

And thusly ended the Wildman’s chant. Low voiced brooding took over, later soon to be replaced by serene prose and echoes of quiet elation.

That your moon go down. And Nightfall on your Reich. An army of horse-like men will come a-fighting upon your fields and shores! From the snowy peaks of Athos to the white creeks of the South American jungle. Dogs on your trail. Slaughter of the bandit troops, a massacreous ecstasy of gutted fish and broken biscuits. The possessed midnight rooster is given freely.

There, we said it! Serene prose crashed into the room.

Girls’ bottoms, chicken soup, summer slumber, helium group, southern breeze, childlike mind, conquistadores, unrest left behind. Wonderful illusions of unambiguous nature, devoid of doubts, morale, utility.

Growling wolf go kjssst!
 

[Written for the occasion of the incoming result of a four-month legal scrum with my employer who wanted to fire me after eleven years of loyal service... The authorities, in their immeasurable wisdom, have judged said dismissal to be completely unlawful.]