Fruit camera excerpt

They fruit cameraed around town to celebrate their return. If you have to ask what that means, then you are an idiot. Then they jelly spasmed in the backseat of a corduroy astro jammer. A few days later, after they had been awake for several years on a combination of methamphetamines, cerebrospinal fluid, and pop rocks mixed with orange juice, they sang the Pearl Jam song “Deep” as a round, with the twelve string bass part played by Aias Anterograde’s rumbling stomach. They hadn’t eaten since the baked beans. The round went so well that they kept it up for thirty-two hours. Then Aias Anterograde finally understood the lyrics, and he wept for fear that Eddie Vedder would hunt him down and circumcise him with a flint knife. When this did not come to pass, he wept again. Swee dried his tears with her nimble tongue, ironically leaving his face wetter than before, albeit slightly less salty. “No time to eat! Rejoice at the fact that my foreskin remains intact!” Aias Anterograde bellowed to the indifferent public. He and Swee recited Keats from a paperback copy they found in a used bookstore. Except it was not actually a book of Keats, but a nonfiction book that told expectant mothers about the magic and mystery of the professional ballroom dancing circuit. Many passersby were amazed at the large quantity of blood that poured from the pages of the book. A geyser would erupt from the book every time Aias Anterograde scatted the words “Lethe-wards had sunk”. No one knew what this meant. Then he followed up the Keats with some home spun gangsta rap in the style of Ween meets Celine Dion.