You may be a 90s kid if you...

Remember when Michael Jackson used to go on tour in his Land-Leviathan, sit in the back, and drag two pool sticks along the roadway because he liked the way it sounded.

Remember when they expanded the Eiffel Tower and built Desert Storm: the Rollercoaster inside of it.

Remember "Dad's bringing the helicopter around" or "Inferior men have more fun!"

And another thing: how come people don't make lasagna for their lovers anymore?

Hawktopus

Hawkland is the perfect place for hawks. So much so, in fact, that it didn't take octopus, that had migrated across the river from Octopusland, too much time to evolve into hawk-like creatures, the males being octopus at birth, and perfect replicas of hawks in adulthood.

And hawktopus are born live, directly from the body of the mother, in isolated birthing pools. I make it a point never to eat or harm something that is born in this way. It is an indication of great intelligence and sacredness.

When I was young, another boy tried to kill one of the octopus mothers. I would not help him, but each time he dived into the pool, he would drown before he got to the bottom, and I would resuscitate him.

Would you say that makes me an accessory to the crime?

Good Churches, Good Horses

I asked my little woman, the flower of my heart, "do you respect your father?"

She shook her head.

"Do you respect your grandfather?"
  
She nodded, "he was the one who first introduced me to the works of Richard Phillips."

"Will you live with me as my wife?"

"Yes."

I am not a true believer as she is, but I love organ music and churches. That is the architecture of the good world, the final victory world. And protection is there found that follows in the mind always. The sweet musty cathedral world built of chords and kind intervals.

And the loving of a noble woman is a horse who has been very important to us, a good animal, with a heart, a brain, a fine skeleton and good strong flesh.

We got stopped in the hotel hallway by a group of people.

"Don't you know she's wanted for multiple counts of first-degree murder?" These people were bounty hunters. I had to think of a way for us to evade them, and quickly. I took the leader aside and in hushed tones admonished him.

"What are you trying to do? I'm from the home office. You're going to ruin this for all of us. Leave it to me." I left him bemused and hustled her into the room.

They didn't buy it, I'm sure, but it bought us some time. I'm sure they're still out there, only momentarily unsure of how to proceed.

What do we do now? Do we dress up in funny outfits? Do I sling her limp body over my shoulder and act as if I had killed her?

It's no use. We won't be able to grow up and the grown-up world is not safe for us as we are, with such equipment as we have, only kitsch and slogans from advertising campaigns to define what struggles we can attempt. The bounty hunters must be allowed to have their way.

The time of the mamas and papas is over. We will remain little boys and girls, exactly until the day when things begin to happen.