inferno season.

“The Royal Family,” by Kazuya Akimoto, acrylic, 73cm x 50cm.

there are four seasons.
are you new around here? what the hell are you talking about, four seasons?
there were four seasons.
it’s inferno season, all year ‘round.

you can finally sell that fifties all-glamour-and-cigarettes mink coat.
yeah, it’ll probably sell for a ton; the last minks were wiped out when coal started running low.
or you can use it wipe off all the sweat. wait ‘til the summer. more inferno.
I don’t remember the last time it snowed, here. maybe twenty years?
nah, it’ll be twenty-five years by next inferno.

I wish we would’ve started using solar energy sooner.
oh but we created all those jobs! and the economy! oil paid well, my, did it pay well.
maybe if it wasn’t about the money, we could have the damn air conditioner on right now.
but it paid so well. we didn’t worry ‘til people stopped going to work, the damn gas prices. or when we started eating nothing but mush bars. we got all our nutrients in that simple little bar, whatever it was. I was fond of that. whatever cremated pink flesh we have now is godawful. It takes too much energy to make those mush bars, now. I just like to remember when I ate chips and fried chicken and all of this was on the back burner.

we should turn off the lights. ration the use.


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