Freddy’s Dream

Sedulously, quizzaciously, twice a day for almost a century, the rotund and atheletic Freddy Mercury would abseil down the void to infinity.

It only took this practiced athlete about 12 minutes to travail down the abyss, at which point he’d dive, as usual, into the bottom bliss. Six minutes later, the downward kiss from god’s traitor, would teeter, peeper, completley in kilter, precariously staring at His majesty’ priapic sceptre.

But surreptitiously peeking at this omniscient deity was, as Freddy knew, a doomed proclivity, with his fortuity only lasting the time it takes to count from one to three. Yet this second was a lifetime in the void of infinity, made possible due to the fact, that even omnipotence can suffer from indolency.

Abashed yet close to release, in a last ditch effort to fullfil his bi-daily feast, Freddy would recite, verbatim, the terms of his spiritual lease. “Master; Bay 10” at which point he’d be silenced and sent back, this beast with one back, scheming of the time in six hours, when he’d be back.


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