For whom the bell trolls

There's a troll who lives in my basement.

I know you're saying to yourself, "trolls live under bridges", well, it's true. Just take my word for it. Trolls despise the homeless. The homeless live under bridges, and while one may say trolls seem quite homeless too, this one lives in my home, in my basement, where he plots how he'll run his vicinity of the world once he's finally paid all the back-tolls he's owed from "all the bitches" who are using all of his bridges.

Yes, he's a sorry excuse for a troll. I'm outing him here on the Internet in hopes of shaming him into doing whatever it is trolls do to survive, as he seems to be quite attached to my sofa. When he's not day-trading imaginary funds by imaginary proxy, compiling paranoid lists of items & people purchased or to be purchased on imaginary credit based on his imaginary funds by imaginary proxy, he imagines perverted scenarios where he helps all his troll friends with his imaginary back-tolls. Plus interest. Compounded. First they must succumb to conditions that make the movie
"Indecent Proposal" seem quaint and agreeable by comparison. For example, Troll Blarg has an imaginary trust fund set up in his name to be payed out on event he slaughters his wife and feasts on her "loins" (and on the event any of this imaginary money imaginarily invested ever turns out to become even remotely real...). My troll "can't stand the cunt" because I think she told him what a pathetic troll loser he was one day, while he was laying on my sofa in the basement smoking enough pot to knock out Amsterdam. Don't even ask me what Troll Narg has to do. I'm embarassed for his goats, to say the least.

You see, it's all a conspiracy. Yes. Against the troll.

The mayor has his money. Or so he imagines, in this convoluted rationalization explaining why he still hasn't found work under another bridge, paid back child-support to his many ex-wives and offspring, and otherwise does nothing but watch my pets, occasional yard-work, and leaves a mess in my kitchen each day for me to clean when I get home from work. Eating all my food, drinking all my milk, and somehow managing to get me to buy him chocolate ice cream and brand name cigarrettes goes without saying. He has one hell of a temper, and suffice to say, once a troll has squatted on your basement sofa it's pretty hard to get rid of them. They're pretty vengeful and self-destructive, so restraining orders are meaningless. Besides, he'd probably kill six degrees of relatives before winding back around to get even with me for even suggesting he find work. Not that anyone would hire a troll who hasn't worked a bridge in 6 years, but I digress.


Besides, what if the money is real?

ascension deficit hyperdisorder

Of hypersigils and hyperstitions in a hyperdimension of hyperspatial coordinates only Hyperion could appreciate.

Please forgive my hypersarcasm,
I'm suffering from ADHd

I wonder if all the excess
and affrontry
to all that's been sacred
was really necessary?
In feeding the egoless,
I suppose a certain
insatiability
is expected.

22 going on 23

I was digging though a box of notebooks this afternoon and came across this bit of nonsense I wrote about 15 years ago...

The act of conjouring demons or spirits, could our reality be virtual and this is a means of contacting an outside world? Witches, Warlocks, and Wizards... call them what you will. Are they accessing the 'system' which operates our world? Are these fearful apparitions just meant to look that way so as to scare off those who would hack "god"? Is science, quantum physics in particular (no pun intended), on the verge of discovering this is what our reality really may be? Would this discovery lead to a consequential re-booting of the system, vis a vis Armageddon?
Some would argue that such a system could not possibly operate with so many people, let alone the number of stars in the sky. Who's to say that all of us are real?