worryingprompts_jqxpwb | Worrying Prompts

You travelled all day to get here. You passed factories and junk lots and finally into a whole borrow with yards full of tires and old cars and a washing machine.

You nervously check to make sure you have everything:
Menthol cigarettes
Hot pork rinds
Canned tuna in oil
and 2 triple bacon burgers

You park, rehearsing in your head the words you must say. You pass a couch in the yard and so many newport boxes. Ralphie, guarded by The Cousins, is already waiting for you.

You set the burgers down for each of the guard dogs, fearful of the low growls in their throats. You lay the rest of your offering down and throw yourself to your knees with head down. “Oracle, I need your help!”

The framing looks like the Pringles have found religion and the order of the pineapple is praying to the allmovther, the womb that carries them in darkness and safety, asking to be worthy to return, lest they be consumed by the hungry hands of fate.

But the pineapple is a false prophet. By accepting the pineapple into their lives and carrying the unholy host, they have doomed themselves. Their bodies will become weak, softened by the very sweetness that tempted them.

The Pringles in the order of the pineapple are cursed with sogginess… They can never return to the safety of the all-can. They must seek the hand and be consumed, or languish in bins of obscurity. They are betrayed for a moment of delicious transcendence.