"All right," Potus said and snorted the powder thoughfully. Someone took a photograph somewhere at a distance.
"It smells like dirt," he said.
"It is the clay of our spiritual ancestors, the 'Awan hua pualoaha wakan', the ones from the sky who visit us."
"What kind of Indian tribes are you, chief?" Potus asked.
"I am part Hopi, part Arapaho," the Cheif answered. "The Hopi originate around present-day Colonial Arizona. The Arapaho are originally found around Colorado and parts of Kansas."
"That's why I like you so much," Potus said. "You're a real American, not like those fake Americans in Mexico or Canada."
"The Mexicans are meso-Americans," said the U.N. Ambassador. She knocked back a snoot full of white clay.
"They're a mess, all right," said Potus.
"Now drink the spirit juice and eat the vision biscuits," said the Hopi Chief, producing a deer skin drinking pouch and some small breads.
"What's this?" asked the First Lady.
"First, the sick one filled with the demons," said the Hopi Chief inidicating the British Prime Minister in his wet blanket.
"Right-o, cheers," the British Prime Minister said and sloshed more gin in his lap while chugging a stream of liquid from the deer skin bag.
"Cannonball," intoned the Hopi Chief.
"Egads," said the British Prime Minister wiping his chin. "Bloody hell."
"Yeah?" asked Potus. "It's good?"
"I should say not," said the British Prime Minister.
"Try the biscuits," offered the Hopi Chief.
"These aren't biscuits, they're cookies," corrected the British Prime Minister. "Egads," he repeated after taking a nibble on a fuzzy brown lump.
"Stop saying the safe words," cried the First Lady. Potus shushed her.
"Pass that over here, fine American," said Potus. He handed the deer skin bag to Johnson. "Bottoms up," he said.
Johnson looked at the bag suspiciously. "I'm not the taster. That's not in my union contract," he said.
"We don't approve of Unions, you know that," said Potus. "Chin chin."
"Chin chin," said Johnson, lifting the bag and taking a swig of a fine stream. "Pretty good," he said handing the bag to Potus.
Potus took a long guzzle from the bag's nipple. "I like it a lot," he said and passed it to the First Lady.
"This mixture will drive away the germs and spirits that affect the body and mind," said the Hopi Chief. "The combination of the ancestral clay and spirit juice with vision biscuits will allow the heart to see what cannot be viewed with the eyes."
"That's why patriots like us enjoy such a fine priilege," said Potus as he took a bite of a vision biscuit. He made a disguted face. The Chief of Staff sat down and took a sip of the spirit liquid.
"The ghost dance is used to cleanse those who are sick. All are sick. Those who have died are equal," said the Hopi Chief.
"Sounds like Communism to me," said Potus.
"Oh, look, the fireworks are starting," said the British Prime Minister.
Everyone looked around. The British Prime Minister stared upward.
"What's he looking at?" asked the First Lady.
"I don't know, but they're just starting to light the camp fire," said the U.N. Ambassador.
"I love the comet trails," said Johnson also looking up.
"The sky tells us a story. Those who tell the stories control the world," said the Hopi Chief.
"That's me," said Potus proudly. "Will we have marshmallows? That's a good idea. We should have marshallows."
Everyone took another round of spirit liquid and some snorted more ancestor clay.
"The colours really are beatiful," said the First Lady.
"I don't see anything," complained Potus. "I see a little bit of flashing lights around there," here he pointed, "but nothing else."
"Is it raining?" asked the British Prime Minister.
"The rain falls on the just and unjust," said the Hopi Chief.
"Where I come from, the sky is not clouded all day," said Potus. "We say that the sun shines on a bald head and the dog's ass."
"I know that saying too," said Johnson.
A voice from a long distance said, "The range of mange is lain strangely on the cage."
"When I look around, I do see tracking jitters, like flashes of bad video on YouTube," the Staff of Chief said.
"Why is it that the bread is never quite as soft or absorbent as I'd like?" asked a Potus voice.
A pig wearing the First Lady's clothes said in a U.N. Ambassador's voice, "When all the food is served, then the guests may eat."
A Potus body spoke to the Chief of Hopi. "Sir, I believe I can safely say that we are not in Kansas anymore."
"I must find the spirit juice to wash down this G&T," said the British First Minister.
The Secret Chief and Indian Agent were playing cowboys and indians. "Bang bang," he said, pulling out a tree from his shoulder holster.
The Potus voice with a pig's body seemed to call from an even further distance away. "Where are the marshmallows? They should be on a stick so we can light them on fire."
"Careful with that," said a tree man with a Hopi voice.
"I am always careful," said the First Ambassador.
They floated for a while like that, observing the size of the sky and the universe. The very dust on the moon seemed bright, cool and fine. All things blended as one from macro to micro. Sometimes even beyond. Always bright and warm, the sky was dark with traces of energy and light.
"Vroom, vroom," said the marshmallow light saber.
"Bang bang bang, I got you," exclaimed the cowboy.
The shining, flaming sword swooshed left and right while rainbows swirled fiercely in the middle of it all. Bright colours danced above and not below.
"I see now what is meant by this land," said a man-sized office.
"The oceans are vast, but not for the inner eye," agreed the Speedos with the French flag.
40 Blangulary
Meanwhile, the sun rose and set; it was the next day.
41st Juiffanster
They swirled around and a bonfire roared. The Potus echo asked a question. The answer was late because the clocks had not been shifted back.
Fireworks in the Orion nebula lit up the whole area beneath the horse head. It wasn't enough, but it did hurt the eyes to look at. Water fell down the back of the duck and rolled in rivulets across a plain. There weren't any discouraging words, nor would there be for the forseeable future.
The antelope body asked a deer mind to play frolicsome. The encounter was ended safely with a few words. The bonfire collapsed and swirls of motes flew into the heavens once again. "God save the Queen," he said.
"Hail to the Chief," she exclaimed back at him.
Every common-person was seen looking lovingly to the north. Even the Unions thought they could reach an agreement. Generally, all was well and nothing was untoward. The homes were protected and warm; a voice across a cold plane was heard to sing Amazing Grace, but with synth overtones like Amadeus.
The buffalo beef was not very good, but it never is. How small the world seems and how well it fits into the puzzles that baffle lesser minds.
July 5
Meanwhile Potus woke up to the bright sun and winced.
"It smells like dirt," he said.
"It is the clay of our spiritual ancestors, the 'Awan hua pualoaha wakan', the ones from the sky who visit us."
"What kind of Indian tribes are you, chief?" Potus asked.
"I am part Hopi, part Arapaho," the Cheif answered. "The Hopi originate around present-day Colonial Arizona. The Arapaho are originally found around Colorado and parts of Kansas."
"That's why I like you so much," Potus said. "You're a real American, not like those fake Americans in Mexico or Canada."
"The Mexicans are meso-Americans," said the U.N. Ambassador. She knocked back a snoot full of white clay.
"They're a mess, all right," said Potus.
"Now drink the spirit juice and eat the vision biscuits," said the Hopi Chief, producing a deer skin drinking pouch and some small breads.
"What's this?" asked the First Lady.
"First, the sick one filled with the demons," said the Hopi Chief inidicating the British Prime Minister in his wet blanket.
"Right-o, cheers," the British Prime Minister said and sloshed more gin in his lap while chugging a stream of liquid from the deer skin bag.
"Cannonball," intoned the Hopi Chief.
"Egads," said the British Prime Minister wiping his chin. "Bloody hell."
"Yeah?" asked Potus. "It's good?"
"I should say not," said the British Prime Minister.
"Try the biscuits," offered the Hopi Chief.
"These aren't biscuits, they're cookies," corrected the British Prime Minister. "Egads," he repeated after taking a nibble on a fuzzy brown lump.
"Stop saying the safe words," cried the First Lady. Potus shushed her.
"Pass that over here, fine American," said Potus. He handed the deer skin bag to Johnson. "Bottoms up," he said.
Johnson looked at the bag suspiciously. "I'm not the taster. That's not in my union contract," he said.
"We don't approve of Unions, you know that," said Potus. "Chin chin."
"Chin chin," said Johnson, lifting the bag and taking a swig of a fine stream. "Pretty good," he said handing the bag to Potus.
Potus took a long guzzle from the bag's nipple. "I like it a lot," he said and passed it to the First Lady.
"This mixture will drive away the germs and spirits that affect the body and mind," said the Hopi Chief. "The combination of the ancestral clay and spirit juice with vision biscuits will allow the heart to see what cannot be viewed with the eyes."
"That's why patriots like us enjoy such a fine priilege," said Potus as he took a bite of a vision biscuit. He made a disguted face. The Chief of Staff sat down and took a sip of the spirit liquid.
"The ghost dance is used to cleanse those who are sick. All are sick. Those who have died are equal," said the Hopi Chief.
"Sounds like Communism to me," said Potus.
"Oh, look, the fireworks are starting," said the British Prime Minister.
Everyone looked around. The British Prime Minister stared upward.
"What's he looking at?" asked the First Lady.
"I don't know, but they're just starting to light the camp fire," said the U.N. Ambassador.
"I love the comet trails," said Johnson also looking up.
"The sky tells us a story. Those who tell the stories control the world," said the Hopi Chief.
"That's me," said Potus proudly. "Will we have marshmallows? That's a good idea. We should have marshallows."
Everyone took another round of spirit liquid and some snorted more ancestor clay.
"The colours really are beatiful," said the First Lady.
"I don't see anything," complained Potus. "I see a little bit of flashing lights around there," here he pointed, "but nothing else."
"Is it raining?" asked the British Prime Minister.
"The rain falls on the just and unjust," said the Hopi Chief.
"Where I come from, the sky is not clouded all day," said Potus. "We say that the sun shines on a bald head and the dog's ass."
"I know that saying too," said Johnson.
A voice from a long distance said, "The range of mange is lain strangely on the cage."
"When I look around, I do see tracking jitters, like flashes of bad video on YouTube," the Staff of Chief said.
"Why is it that the bread is never quite as soft or absorbent as I'd like?" asked a Potus voice.
A pig wearing the First Lady's clothes said in a U.N. Ambassador's voice, "When all the food is served, then the guests may eat."
A Potus body spoke to the Chief of Hopi. "Sir, I believe I can safely say that we are not in Kansas anymore."
"I must find the spirit juice to wash down this G&T," said the British First Minister.
The Secret Chief and Indian Agent were playing cowboys and indians. "Bang bang," he said, pulling out a tree from his shoulder holster.
The Potus voice with a pig's body seemed to call from an even further distance away. "Where are the marshmallows? They should be on a stick so we can light them on fire."
"Careful with that," said a tree man with a Hopi voice.
"I am always careful," said the First Ambassador.
They floated for a while like that, observing the size of the sky and the universe. The very dust on the moon seemed bright, cool and fine. All things blended as one from macro to micro. Sometimes even beyond. Always bright and warm, the sky was dark with traces of energy and light.
"Vroom, vroom," said the marshmallow light saber.
"Bang bang bang, I got you," exclaimed the cowboy.
The shining, flaming sword swooshed left and right while rainbows swirled fiercely in the middle of it all. Bright colours danced above and not below.
"I see now what is meant by this land," said a man-sized office.
"The oceans are vast, but not for the inner eye," agreed the Speedos with the French flag.
40 Blangulary
Meanwhile, the sun rose and set; it was the next day.
41st Juiffanster
They swirled around and a bonfire roared. The Potus echo asked a question. The answer was late because the clocks had not been shifted back.
Fireworks in the Orion nebula lit up the whole area beneath the horse head. It wasn't enough, but it did hurt the eyes to look at. Water fell down the back of the duck and rolled in rivulets across a plain. There weren't any discouraging words, nor would there be for the forseeable future.
The antelope body asked a deer mind to play frolicsome. The encounter was ended safely with a few words. The bonfire collapsed and swirls of motes flew into the heavens once again. "God save the Queen," he said.
"Hail to the Chief," she exclaimed back at him.
Every common-person was seen looking lovingly to the north. Even the Unions thought they could reach an agreement. Generally, all was well and nothing was untoward. The homes were protected and warm; a voice across a cold plane was heard to sing Amazing Grace, but with synth overtones like Amadeus.
The buffalo beef was not very good, but it never is. How small the world seems and how well it fits into the puzzles that baffle lesser minds.
July 5
Meanwhile Potus woke up to the bright sun and winced.
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