03/02/2021
Bloodxclat
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Bloodxclat
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Shango and the explosion
Shango stood on the porch and looked out over the old work yard. The setting sun was turning the sky a glowing red. Thick mists were already wafting up from the swamps behind the sugar cane fields, breaking the light. A hot day came to an end at Shango's tire service. Not much had been going on. Still, his friend Neal's old '49 Hudson hadn't been ready. How annoying.
He took off the stained, gasoline-soaked coveralls, sipped his iced orange soda, and lost himself in thought for a bit. He felt a little woozy in the bulb. The sun was setting fast.
All at once, inconceivably, a monstrous, burning, smoking can of Orange Soda flew through his field of vision - falling from the sky! And exploded with a metallic BLÄÄMMMM behind the sugar cane fields.
"aaaaaahhhhiiii O/E iiiaaaahhhh" Shango screamed while jumping around the porch like crazy in his underpants. Thousands of orange fireflies burst from thick juicy grapefruits, buzzing around like a sparking fire from the old tiled stove and soaring up toward the sky. Yellow-green citrus peels fell at Shango's feet, ethereal, herbaceous, and flickering. "What the oily bog hole was THAT again? What happened to Ishtar?"
He squeezed on a shirt, put on his machete, and let his gasoline lighter snap open. The old ship's lantern from the swamp. He lit the sooty, petroleum-soaked wick and ran, swaying a bit. From the field the smoke of glowing citrus pricked his nose. The orangesodacomet thingy had smashed into the neighbor's property. The crazy Swiss with his vetiver plantation. Here, in the middle of nowhere! He shook his head and pulled open the gate of the Vitrum Ltd. corporation. His arms were shaking, though it was still hot. He had to check on things when the owner wasn't around. Why today?
Cursing, he made his way through the dense vetiver plantation, dry, spicy sweetgrass scent rising to his nose, along with damp, herbaceous, swampy Nagarmortha. A blow here, one there, take this and BANG.
His head spun in the rush of the burning orange can. Grapefruits burst behind his eyeballs. Melted rubber tires flowed through his bloodstream. The old kerosene lamp pulsed in his hands. He became one with the lamp and when he smelled the gasoline it was too late.
Shango woke up in his yard. Through the flickering glow of the old ship's lantern, he saw his friend Neal circle a small hammer, then catapult it ZACK into the sky and then, as if by magic, catch it behind his back with his left hand.
"Shango, you crazy little bastard! Got you out of the burning field, didn't I? Chasing bush rats in your underpants, eh? In a dry vetiver field with a kerosene lantern, you old fogey! Instead of working on my Hudson, you lunatic!
I've got to get back on the road!
By the way, I forgot my acid here yesterday, did you see it?"
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Lampblack is a 6h trip through the citrus grove, with dry, very spicy vetiver and a damp, herbaceous nagarmortha. The two grasses with the pepper together give the illusion of an old, burning kerosene lantern. A citrusy-smoky summer fragrance that is very easy to wear and is once again a modern attempt to redesign vetiver.
He took off the stained, gasoline-soaked coveralls, sipped his iced orange soda, and lost himself in thought for a bit. He felt a little woozy in the bulb. The sun was setting fast.
All at once, inconceivably, a monstrous, burning, smoking can of Orange Soda flew through his field of vision - falling from the sky! And exploded with a metallic BLÄÄMMMM behind the sugar cane fields.
"aaaaaahhhhiiii O/E iiiaaaahhhh" Shango screamed while jumping around the porch like crazy in his underpants. Thousands of orange fireflies burst from thick juicy grapefruits, buzzing around like a sparking fire from the old tiled stove and soaring up toward the sky. Yellow-green citrus peels fell at Shango's feet, ethereal, herbaceous, and flickering. "What the oily bog hole was THAT again? What happened to Ishtar?"
He squeezed on a shirt, put on his machete, and let his gasoline lighter snap open. The old ship's lantern from the swamp. He lit the sooty, petroleum-soaked wick and ran, swaying a bit. From the field the smoke of glowing citrus pricked his nose. The orangesodacomet thingy had smashed into the neighbor's property. The crazy Swiss with his vetiver plantation. Here, in the middle of nowhere! He shook his head and pulled open the gate of the Vitrum Ltd. corporation. His arms were shaking, though it was still hot. He had to check on things when the owner wasn't around. Why today?
Cursing, he made his way through the dense vetiver plantation, dry, spicy sweetgrass scent rising to his nose, along with damp, herbaceous, swampy Nagarmortha. A blow here, one there, take this and BANG.
His head spun in the rush of the burning orange can. Grapefruits burst behind his eyeballs. Melted rubber tires flowed through his bloodstream. The old kerosene lamp pulsed in his hands. He became one with the lamp and when he smelled the gasoline it was too late.
Shango woke up in his yard. Through the flickering glow of the old ship's lantern, he saw his friend Neal circle a small hammer, then catapult it ZACK into the sky and then, as if by magic, catch it behind his back with his left hand.
"Shango, you crazy little bastard! Got you out of the burning field, didn't I? Chasing bush rats in your underpants, eh? In a dry vetiver field with a kerosene lantern, you old fogey! Instead of working on my Hudson, you lunatic!
I've got to get back on the road!
By the way, I forgot my acid here yesterday, did you see it?"
------------------------
Lampblack is a 6h trip through the citrus grove, with dry, very spicy vetiver and a damp, herbaceous nagarmortha. The two grasses with the pepper together give the illusion of an old, burning kerosene lantern. A citrusy-smoky summer fragrance that is very easy to wear and is once again a modern attempt to redesign vetiver.
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