Loxy Lori

Mendaciously speaking the truth, Loxy Lory tripsies passionately amongst the realms of moonlit canoodling oglers encircling the tree of life. It stands there alone as if gravity had taken the day off, defying the periodic table to breath grasping, gasping at the intricacies of organic profusion. Lies and yet more truthful lies. “One wee bite won't hurt you sweetie,” she giggles. “It's the nectar of the gods, young man, your soul will dance with the fairies.”

Twisted beauty, twisted logic, pure perfidiousness. “It's but an apple” my dear, “Much simpler this path to knowledge than to study for fifteen long years to dissertate on the juices of the pancreas.” Loxy Lory convoluting into an art form progenesis, that acceleration of sexual maturation relative to the rest of development through the knowledge concealed in the divine fruit, the forbidden fruit for humanities pubescent.

Meanwhile Freddie the red eyed and evil orange cat has found his soul mate in heat. He stalks her mercilessly, up and up into the living branches, red eyes like hot coals piercing the night from between the leaves. Screaming they climb, barbaric insults hurled in the tenderness of feline love. Humanities devotion to the rules of fecundity play no bias in Freddie's intent. Clinging together they fall from the highest canopy of twilight green, crashing through the leaves and branches to land dazed in a heap on the ground.

Laughing amusably, Loxy Lory stoles limp and exhausted Freddie in a boa around her neck. Enraptured eyes of the nascent youth follow her as Freddie purrs in evil uncontrollable delight. The sweetness of unbridled lust overwhelms the cosmos and the earth begins to quake, apples falling everywhere. (Was likely caused by impassioned fracking but tales are tales.) His tail starts flipping as our Freddie comes to, and him being a profoundly wildcat, he leaps off leaving many more than a few scratch marks on clever Loxy Lory's neck. The young, astounded by the show, serenade Loxy Lory with cheers and clapping and whistles as the blood trickles sweetly from her wounds.

The earth still quakes, apples rolling everywhere, now ankle deep. Black ooze tingles the hairlike roots of enlightenment. Seductively it creeps along the underpinnings of the life sustaining arteries of nourishment. Standing there alone, the tree of life becomes giddy, this black nectar gumming up the pathways of essential nutrients which deliver sanity to the perspicacity of the ages. The sticky black crud, slithering up and up to the vines which nourish the apples which snakes and Loxy Lories impinge upon the young, begins to drip down on the earth. Loxy Lory stands fixated beneath, slowly becoming tarred by the smelly blackened sap. The oglers too become lubricated by the crud.

Now writhing on the ground, humanities future intoxicated by the fumes, gives up all dignity. Loxy Lory conducts like a symphony. Bodies glisten in the moonlight. Freddie and his soul mate once more at it, join the fray. Waves of slippery black euphoria convulse upon the slickened grasses. The tree of life begins to wilt, heart broken that it's secrets are so antiquated. The earth shudders in despair and rips wide open, the crack swallowing all; the tree of life, the canoodling oglers, Loxy Lory, even Freddie and his love. The earth closes upon itself. All is gone, knowledge and wisdom are vanished.

Note: This was written by our impish dilettante and the agnostic philosopher. The rest of us personas really have no inkling as to where their inept heavenliness stems. May the cosmos bless them and keep them safe in their undertakings. The Management.