Trench Gristle 08: The Rhythm Man

Keeping it smooth since the 17th Century

Keeping it smooth since the 17th Century

I can tell by looking at you that you hear a lot of stories from guys like me saying things hard to believe until novel ideas you hear have veered from keen to boring and only if you could get to those destinations known to you yet unknown to me without the sales pitches then you’d be that much more contented in that world you’ve created but wait because our meeting was preordained, the Fates had us slated, so I could tell you that world you labored to create is breaking, that world ending taper, something  I can say because I’m the Rhythm Man, rhythm as in that spring in my step put there by me listening, ears to the ground, through the ground, to the bowels of our Mother listening, to the wind and the din of waves crashing on distant shores kind of listening, in tune with land and sea instead of glued to the TV listening, the kind that we all used to have before we started killing trees for a different type of currency that we all don’t have but all blindly pursue even if those trees have had their vocal cords cut so there’s nothing to listen to, but I’m fortunate enough to be the Rhythm Man but for now, know now our time is short because the Mother’s good Nature is about to break from all our bends, something I know you feel in bitty drips, seas upend in the roil of your gut, weeps the wind in the sighs of your discontent, to the verge where I see you longing, ever longing, to be in tune, so forget trees forever muted and come, yes come, and I’ll set your body to move in time with mine where you can hear thunder in my voice’s low rumble, feel mountains ache through the arch of your spine until your body trembles like earthquake tremors which is why I must ask it plain as the sunshine kissing your face, a place I aspire, will you let me show you, most beautifully, how our worlds end?

The story behind the story: A while back, a few writer peers of mine started playing with one sentence stories, which grew into a contest to make that sentence as long as possible.  Naturally, I wanted to try my hand at this.  Since half the fun for me is thinking on the context of why a story would be only one sentence yet an extremely long sentence, I thought of someone who needed to talk fast and convincingly.  That’s the Rhythm Man, shooting game in what amounts to the longest one-sided pick up line I’ve ever seen in print.  It could’ve gone longer, as is the nature of rhythm, but the contest specified a maximum length!  I hope you all enjoy.

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