Mechanical Animals

The little red man told me to stand still. I, and a few others, quickly complied with his demands and stood at a concrete edge waiting for the stampede of mechanical animals to conclude, if only just for the few seconds it takes to get from one side of the street to the other.
As I waited, there was a little boy listening to, who I assumed was his grandmother, recite pages from a pocket-sized copy of The Joy of Cooking. She appeared to be deeply insane, rooted somewhere inside of the deep hole within the retina ring. Her back was hunched to an arch inside of her fuzzy, small blue button-up sweater and her mouth was almost completely devoid of any teeth, though full of quiver and shallow breaths. Her and her boy walked down the street and I turned my attention back onto the fascist red little man.
Before I blinked he was swallowed into a black hole, gone from the face of the earth while immediately being replaced by an active little green man who was kind enough to allow me to walk. He also seemed to posses enough power to cause the stampeding animals to come to a halt.
After realizing that the electrical green man had given me freedom, the others and I began walking on a two-dimensional zebra across the street, at which many of the mechanical animals seemed to be smelling as they hummed and consistently fluctuated.
When I was at the other side of the street I entered into my place of business, which had been named Joe’s Car Repair a few months after being born.
At my place of business I was traded useless pieces of paper for performing veterinary surgery on multiple breeds of mechanical animals. The pieces of paper are by all logical reasoning useless, but are made useful by people who seem to desire them more than their own goods or services.
There was a circle on the wall which possessed 3 arms moving at different speeds as well as being tattooed with 12 numbers and sixty little lines around the edges. When it pointed its strongest arm to the number 6 and its shortest arm to 12, all of my fellow employees and employer had either left or gone to a designated area to refuel themselves. I had fueled myself quite excessively only an hour before instead of working, so I wasn’t compelled to go anywhere.
The circle’s arms rotated slightly more and I found myself increasingly less amused. I began walking through the anatomy of Joe’s Car Repair looking for a way to distract myself from the thought of dying.
What I found to distract myself with was an enslaved mechanical animal called a Sander. It was one large part sand paper compiled with multiple other steel organs and an electrical life support. After contemplating it for a while I decided the best thing I could do with it was have sex with it.
I turned a few things and pressed a few buttons to a turn it on and then it got moving. The sandpaper wheel spun hypnotically, so quickly that it entranced me and even further motivated me to fornicate it.
I pulled apart the scary metal teeth that my denim jeans like to keep in front of my penis, and pushed down my underwear. In my hand I held an impressively ugly external vessel, which had hardened and got as close as it could to god. I pushed it up against the Sander and it almost immediately flew apart into six different pieces while unleashing copious amounts of dark red blood.
At that moment, I went deaf and began to watch the situation unfold in slow motion. Volume began to build in some omniscient voice that said “Okay, this is too much for you to have to deal with. Your system will default to insanity so as to let you remain even remotely functional.”
The voice was soft like a voice I’d hear from a character speaking in a book.
I realized my situation and noticed the large mess it had left. I was a loyal cell to Joe’s Car Repair, I couldn’t leave such a vulgar spill inside of it. As I walked around searching for the larger bits, I picked up various pieces of it and kept them in my left hand, while picking up other pieces with my right. With my pants still off and continuing to leak fluid, I brought the pieces to a workbench and laid them on it. I looked around for reconstructive devices and the only one that seemed practical was called a Stapler. I used it’s replaceable, ejecting metal teeth to put the pieces of my penis back together.
After around seven or so staples, it seemed to mostly back together. I shook it around a little bit to see if it was stable which caused a staple to come loose and drop a piece of the flesh. No big loss, I thought, I still have most of it left. Sure, it looks different, but the bastard was never pretty in the first place and I can adjust to change.

I woke up with the circle pointing its arms in different directions, in a different place. I looked at a box next to me which contained a blue line that would bounce every time my generator pulsated. I tried to count the beats, as they were quite musical, but quickly realized I no longer knew how to count.
The feeling of that was nice.






based on a true story http://snopes.com/risque/penile/scrotum.asp