It was about this time that we began to grasp our own fundamentalism. Methodically, by way of earthly attrition we were able to cipher our own 95 Theses. Bit by bit we purged what was left of our own interior image, and took on the eyes of our own exegesis. Self-righteous transformationalism, our new sojourn, a complete bypass of transhumanism and its posthuman movement. We were growing; our minutia becoming the cultivated spirit of doctrine.
~LB~
The gateway out of hell was an open pipe that led from the fiery furnace to Earth’s fiery desert. The summer was a torrent of sweat and growing pains. Our will and endurance were pushed to the utter most, and our body whipped into submission, covered in blood, and ripped to ribbons. My eyes were dug out like scoops of ice cream. We had traveled to Hell, what other place for failures like Jarmo and I, couldn’t even beat the buffet, couldn’t even be Lombardo Barnyard. So we were dragged through the Level One Pipe, and joined in the Level Two Pipe. Now we even held the power of time. With the days of summer drawing to a close it was time for Jarmo and I to crawl back through the tunnel that birthed us here, and tear back into Earth, new, alive, and as Lombardo Barnyard. Before us was the Level Three Pipe, the way, the path, the birth canal.
We don’t know how Simon found the Level Three Pipe, he just sort of knew where it was, like someone whispered the directions in his ear, or like it was written on his heart ahead of time. Still mesmerized by the words of Tim Vandermolen, we knew that this would lead to our predestined future. With less than one day’s journey, Jarmo, Simon, and I found the Level Three Pipe, our pipe, the mouth that ate Judas.We stared at the pipe like it was an illusion, but we all knew it to be truth. The long cylindrical tube bulging out the crust of the earth looked as if it was placed by the hand of God, but we knew it was constructed by Satan himself. Together we stood at its entrance, a small crack in the earth, a hatchet wound of an ancient now defunct religious figure. The thought of disease did not enter our mind; our lust for the black hole in front of us consumed us with fire and untamable manhood. Stout, and blood flowing, we penetrated the earth without permission.
Once inside we knew it was a thin-place, the place where all layers of reality, soulular, geosoulular, cellular, protocellular, genetic and cultural converge. The tunnel was the entirety of darkness. Near the entrance were most shades of gray, but not too far in, it turned only a black, the black that you can’t even imagine if you tried, a total absence of light, color, and God. We lit flair for light. The incendiary light coming from Jarmo’s stick revealed the pipe as an aged and wrinkled cask of its former self and glory, thirsty and famished. The ground revealed signs of former cross-conscious shifts, bottles of Drano laid in the dirt. As we began our journey into the blackness, the exposed stolen light filled the tunnel with smoke. The smoke purified the unclean walls, and cleaned stagnate backslidden air with its pleasing aroma.
We walked in code and after some time came to our next obstacle. At our feet was water’s edge, an underground ocean that had no discernable end, no point of origin, no color, shape, or sound. Although it was the hottest day of the year, this underground water was frozen by deities of irrevoke, succubi, and the general cold heart of the bleeding woman, so cold it didn’t freeze, so frozen it didn’t move, so dark it became fire. It was woman.
Without hesitation we ran into her warmth-sheared waters. We needed mastery over the Level Three Pipe. To harness its power for ourselves, we became its lord, architect, husband. Sometimes, to know someone, to truly know them, you have to go through pain, cause pain, explore them and their bodies, even if they fight back. She fought back, the cold hearted canal cried and whined with each step we took into her. Her fingers lacked blood and as they slid up our legs, and past our boots, they scratched our nerves, and blackened our skin. Her waters filled our boots and made our veins crack, our toes burst open, our feet frozen lead.
We started fast, but we quickly slowed due to our lack of endurance. Her arms were stiff and they continued up our thighs causing our cremasters to recoil and thicken. The further we entered into her, the more she enveloped us, the more of our flesh became tainted, seared, and blackened. Our pace slowed incrementally with every couple of steps; the frozen water had now begun to thicken all our muscles. Soon thereafter steel rods, wood, and other debris began appearing on the bottom of her canal, discharge from past trespassers. To continue we had to be surefooted and confident in our progression and goal. Small snakes swam in the opposite direction of the way we were walking. Her stiff claws rose up even higher, up our bare chests and around our necks. She clutched our lungs and each of us gasped for air unsuccessfully. Our once long strides were now only shuffle steps. Her water, her discharge, her cold heart, her voice, her misshapen body, her insecurity, was at our lower lip trying so hard to kiss us, infect us, taint us, she was trying to enter us like we had entered her, kill us.
Then we hit the wall, her back wall. There in front of us was a steep incline that led to a small pin hole of light just big enough for our heads and bodies to stretch and rip through. In front of me was the external os, and I could only reach for it. My leg strength was gone so all I could do was reach, reach for that dilated hole. I gasped and only water entered. A small shaft of the light pierced into my eye. Then, something grabbed my arm tight, hard enough to counteract my lubricated body, and I was dragged up the incline, through the hole, and to my new home.
My frozen clothes wrapped tight around me as I lay on the ground. The wet layers sucked to my skin and a cord of light from the sun fed me. I went into shock and began to slide in and out of consciousness. For a moment I turned to see Jarmo’s pants down, exposed, disrespecting her one last time. I fell unconscious again. This time while unconscious, I didn’t see the bright light of Heaven, or the burning fires of Hell, the only thing I saw was myself. I knew then that we had taken the pipe for our own, and that all who could pass through it would not find Heaven or Hell, but find the growing fetus of Lombardo Barnyard.
When I awoke from my unconscious state I saw the black figure of what looked like Simon Jack clouding the sun. An aura came off his sun-drenched body, and I could not see his face. I knew right then, that the one who pulled me and Jarmo from our death in the Level Three Pipe, was Simon Jack. I knew then, he was more than man.
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