An Orgonic Tale
By Michael Griffin and Tom Harris

    Pardon my soul. I've realized that never again should I mix gasoline with my breakfast. After all, gasoline evokes trauma, and I am allergic to anything vespid. If my situation doesn't improve, my life will being improving, only to entropize until gone quite mad.
     Soulless creature , you! Your perspicacity is never mine; I am quaffed! Many souls are pining for the release of spontaneous entropy. However, mine never entropize, so quit now.
     Exciting things spring from reunification, and I love things to excite. Nebulous thoughts flow freely, especially when they excite, titillate, and otherwise spring forth, informing me of generative biogenic experiments that failed.
     These Reichian musings seem hedonistic. Prurient literature succeeds in endeavors like no other sort. These gentle injections seep forth eerily, pontificating orgasmic experiences. Wilhelm, like his son, believed that orgasms catatonically subsided, although they briefly disagreed on timing. Orgonic musings generously produce thoughtful reflections on laboratory induced rapturous experiments.
     You blew moistly into my bulbous beehive hairdo, rakish peon that you are! After lunch, I exploded.

                                                       The End

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