Wednesday, July 1, 2009

I wrote this piece a couple of years ago. My name is Amanda Conway, I've been writing since I learned how. I hope you are well entertained by my work, and, none the less, understand it. I tried accessing your website, but didn't have luck finding it, so I hope this is some where along the lines of what you want. If not, my sincerest of apologies to you.

Patrick the Magic Banana
By Amanda Conway

One day there was a magic banana named Patrick. He had a chip on his peel and thought he was really cool. Patrick loved his pet unicorn Amelia and everyday went for a ride on her back. One day, a Leprechaun frightened Amelia so much that Patrick went flying through the air past 20 rainbows and landed in a giant pot of gold. There he met a man who called himself Hanz Olo. He and Patrick got along so well, that Olo decided to take him on an adventure to the world of Hollywood where they were to sell their souls to a magic unidentified building known as "the box office". It took 20 days and 20 nights to get there and when they finally arrived, the place was magical. Stoned hippies and drunk transsexuals lined the streets and greeted the two upon their arrival.
"Welcome to the new world! We're on our way to becoming famous!"
They all exclaimed to the magic banana and the Falcon pilot.
"I'm gonna be a pop star!" a sixteen year old prostitute exclaimed.
"Some day I'll be a famous actor!" a coked up man in a tattered business suit exclaimed.
Patrick and Hanz Olo made their way through the streets, browsing through the poverty stricken markets and tiptoeing along the passed out winos.
"This place is wonderful!" they both exclaimed.
"We can sight see later, let's get going." said Patrick.
After traveling through the littered streets of Hollywood, they finally arrived at The Box Office. It was a huge building made entirely of gold. Once inside they saw the true zombie like appearances of the people running the industry. Blood was dripping down the walls and the only sound to be heard was that of souls being crushed and spirits slowly dying. Immediately all of the executives in the building turned to the two with their giant artificially whitened smiles.
"I love it! Love love love it!"
"Mwa sweetie you'll be great in the business."
"Come follow us." One said, so Patrick and Hanz Olo were led into a giant room filled with dead plants and thick dust. The big-headed banana and Mr. Olo were flabbergasted. The room was quite different than what they expected, but they found it was worth getting used to. For hours they were fed wonderful lies of happiness and fame, when all of a sudden a naked hippie bursted into the room with a backwards swastika painted on his belly.
"I'm sick of this fascist run media!!" he screamed and charged fast with a machete in his hand. Left and right he swung the giant weapon chopping the empty-souled executives to tiny little pieces. Before Han Solo and Patrick could decide what to do, the hippie had sliced the banana into oblivion.
"STOP!!" Olo exclaimed, "it's just a bad trip man, it's just a bad trip! Get a hold of yourself, bro, you're coming down hard." The hippie opened his eyes and stopped screaming. He was dripping from head to toe in blood and sweat, his sign of genocide smeared on his belly to the point of unidentification. He ran over to slaughtered Patrick and started eating his banana guts.
"Well God damn I never knew magic tasted this good."
Out of curiousity, Hanz Olo tried a taste.
"MMMmm that's good fascist" he said.
For the next 48 hours while a Beatles record played on repeat, they feasted on the insides of Patrick. Tripping out hard on the banana's magic, they discussed deep issues like their country's fascist government, and the meaning of life. When daylight came, out the bloodstained window they saw the prostitute-littered streets of the magical land called Hollywood and realized how lucky they were to live in a place so beautiful. The naked hippie jumped out the window of the beautiful gold building and flew off to a far peaceful land known as Amsterdam. As for Hanz Olo, he's still in that dusty dead bloody corpse-ridden room, waiting to find his true love.

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