Uncle Drew's Lysergic Backbrain Apocalypse (Slight Return)
Life goes on, of course, and life is flux. I rarely get out past the tree line anymore; I gave up driving many years ago. The highways are a mess, especially with all the goddamned dinosaurs. I suppose, in their way, they mean well, but they never look where they’re going.
It’s not all bad, though. On quiet nights, when the flying cats streak overhead in formation, leaving their lavender vapor trails, you can look out over the lake and you can hear poor old Drew honking away, that hideous noise booming up from the depths. This may sound odd, but it makes me feel warm.
C.F. Roberts is a writer, visual artist, videographer and antimusician living in Northwest Arkansas with his wife, writer Heather Drain and a small menagerie of animals. He published and edited SHOCKBOX: The Literary/Art Magazine with Teeth from 1991 to 1996. He sings lead for the rock band, the S.E. Apocalypse Krew while also commandeering his own industrial project, 90 Lb. Tumor. He most recent publication credits are in Fearless, Paraphilia, Pressure Press Presents, Crab Fat Literary Magazine, The Birds We Piled Loosely, Blue Collar Review, Corvus Review, Antique Children, and Guerilla Genesis Press. His book, The Meat Factory and Other Stories, is available from Alien Buddha Press.
