Commander Puffy Visits Our Factory And Then Dies

The humble pageant begins after the pre-dawn skip-breakfast Yelling Parade. With great wish of productivity and mechanical sanity, glorious torches are lit along the Avenue Of Witless Toil, which is near the factory window made with REAL GLASS.  We are praise to be have this!

Happy laborers assemble in rows beneath the factory window (!!!) and, for the Chairman’s satisfaction, march back and forth while punching ourselves in the stomach to make the Evil Want Of Food disoriented and sleepy.  Sometimes we punch each other in the stomach and all of us punch our supervisor in her stomach because of we love her and the many hours of sleep she say we do not need.  She tell us she once saw a jar of jam and has a piece of string at home.  Our singing is this:

O, my, it is early!
Is so dark I lose my pig in a hole
I’m going to miss that pig
Now, someone please punch me in the stomach.

Then we think that it is the regular time we go sit by our AMAZING machines of production and wait for parts to arrive all day. ( last month we made a chair with two legs!!  I am not bragging. We really did.) I thought we would start to have work but Supervisor makes her eyes curve in a different way which always makes me wonder who has to go and wash her clothes in the hallway sink, which is even worse than having to lick her twoonie-spot.

“Please, dear Grain-Donkeys!” she calls out by making her hands like a cone, “Listen to the sound that is coming at you now, dammit!”  Supervisor makes the gesture of expectancy followed by the pose of excitement.  I make the pose of acknowledgement but she did not look towards me.  I was thinking about making the pose of resentment or the gesture of colorful dissatisfaction.

Then we can hear the unmistakable bare-boot shuffle of the Dead Squad Right-Now Team.  The smell is also hard to mistake unless you think it is a pond full of dead horses and at that point you are kind of at a crossroads.

The Squad, in their trademark rotten uniforms, make a precision shamble across the factory floor.   The two most dead soldiers carry Commander Puffy between them while a third soldier uses his hands to make the Commander’s feet move around so it looks like he was really walking!  What a treat!

Puffy tells us that there are evil machines in his head and then he dies! My life is an embarrassment if riches, I tell you.

Text and Images © Andrew Auten – All Rights Reserved