A Pint of Humanity

Daggers of Sun attempted to pierce the thick fog, crashing into overbearing molecules. The mixture spread across open land in one cloud of dim light. Morning dew caused grass to glisten, illuminating the vast hillside region where pockets of men anxiously awaited battle in scattered troughs. The divided fractions of fragile creatures bickered and plotted without knowledge of simultaneous bickering and plotting among multiple other groups of hill folk, adding volume to buckets of plausible and possible outcomes.

Deep, hardened voices of un-worried warriors carried meters into the atmosphere, transforming into high pitched squeaks squelched by miles of mist. While separate but equal sized specks of humanity contemplated issues such as “victory” or “tactics”, moist air managed to easily evaporate without notice or resistance. Further in the distance condensation sat atop strawberry fields, which patiently anticipated a plucking.

Humid heat dominated the aging day as soldiers’ stomachs saturated pan fried breakfasts, unfamiliar aromas attracted the attention of nearby animals though unable to identify origins of the scents. Restless rallies of the random rowdies signified growing tension inside the battalions, leaders enticed followers who left behind the lethargic and marched up their respective hills.

The clans converged, carrying flags of different creatures and creative symbols. Up close, blood splattered, bodies mangled, and men turned into beasts; animals walked by nervously, aware of the unnatural culmination of confrontation between their masters. Far away, other events occurred and passed, ignorant of the brutal bravery and blatant savageness. The Sun rose alongside mounting violence, then fell as forces waned and lives vanished.

Only the most resilient of fighters survived in each army, but every weapon emptied of bullets. The remaining yelled in efforts to persuade one another. Eloquent presentations morphed into “hmms” and rabbling, clashing words created one Neanderthal poem.

“Abortion! Abortion! Proportion, extortion, divorcing and war, greedy and poor! Money money money, money. Money.....money! Prison, drugs, regulation, hugs, left right, in hindsight. Taxes and faxes, rackets then rockets, pickets and pockets, politician, superstition! Science! Gods! distribution of Ipods! Media, propaganda, conspiracy, Miranda. Arrest, detest, constitution, prostitution!”

Night expanded and stars flickered in the dark, worlds and realities drifted by, unaware of time or rhyme. Imaginative creatures collided and collapsed in formations while crickets tweeted and chirped. The crickets were war survivors forming federal government, figuring who founded and who would lead, who could stay and who must leave. The insignificants slept soundly, their dreams appraised significance of the day.

Just as the sun came and went, the men would gather and the men would split. A great flood came and washed away the SOB’s, just like something defeating disease. The scene faded and shrunk, smaller and smaller into the unknown. Giant stars and clusters of mass grouped into tiny molecules and waves. The waves fluidly passed through the mind of a man. To the clashing specks of different ideologies and arguments, the man was God. To God, he was but a man, washing away cluttered thoughts of the day, vicious debates over cities and states, drowned with a pint and some laughs with his mates.