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Wednesday, October 13, 2010

There’s a sale on tomorrow. In Dundrum Shopping Centre.


(above: Antimatter Generator)

I was watching Tubbs on the Late Late. His mouth was opening and closing. There were noises coming out. They were words. I can’t remember which words. I’m sure they were grand words. It seemed alright. The audience seemed happy enough. That‘s the main thing. Then a guest came on. The guest sat next to Tubbs. I’m not sure who it was. It was probably a singer. Or an actor. Maybe a juggler. They opened and closed their mouths. They made words come out. It was a fine chat. I can’t recall the exact details. I think someone made a joke. It was funny. It wasn’t too funny. Maybe it wasn’t funny. Everyone laughed. It was a good laugh. No one mentioned death. No one mentioned love. Or anything that really matters. It wasn’t the time for any of that. It so rarely is these days. Where does it get you anyway? Then the band made a noise. It was music. A bit of an auld tune. Someone sang. Everyone clapped along. It wasn’t too avant-garde. Or angry. Or happy. Or excessive in anyway. Just appropriate. Comforting. Nice enough. What more would you want at this time of evening? Or any time really? And the show went on like this. For the rest of the night. Like shows do every night. And day. And afternoon. And then I felt a sensation. The ground gave away. My ceiling floated off. The walls fell down. I saw the same happening to other houses. No one seemed to mind. They just kept watching telly. Without smiling. Or frowning. Or laughing. Or crying. Just watching. As the Earth sank. And fell. And plummeted. Away from the sun. Away from the moon. Down past the stars. Through the bottom of the galaxy. Through the bottom of the next galaxy. Through the bottom of the galaxy after that. And all the other ones beneath that one. And into a pitch black abyss. Into Satan’s gaping mouth. And down Satan’s throat. And into his stomach. Where it landed with a plop. And was digested by acids. And shat out Satan’s arse. In fragments so small as to be nonexistent. But no one really minded. Nobody cared. Because Tubbs had a hamper. One for everybody in the audience. And his big empty eyes rolled back in his big empty head. And big empty words came out of his big empty mouth. ‘All Hail the Void’ said Tubbs. And the audience repeated after him. ‘All Hail the Void' they said. And something issued from the hampers. And spread throughout the nation. And ate up what was left of nothing at all. Antimatter Telefis Eireann.

Matter. Antimatter. What’s the matter? Does anything matter? And there’s a sale on tomorrow. In DUNDRUM SHOPPING CENTRE.

3 comments:

SUPERHILBO! said...

What was in the hamper??

Fugger said...

The Void. The sheer lack of all. It gnaws away at matter, all that matters. It swallows it and shits out nullity. It's excited about RTE's autumn schedules and thinks thaat Baz fella is a good laugh. That's what was in the hampers. The VOID!

SUPERHILBO! said...

Baz is the new edgy Ray Darcy ya knw...he'll end up a cronie like the rest of them. I bet they get sandwiches at break time in the studio...and bourbon biscuits too.