“I might have something that’ll help,” the traveling apothecary said.
He jumped down from the driver’s seat, and signaled to his assistant to retrieve something from one of the chests in the rear.
The assistant produced a small vial and handed it to his master.
The hooded customer grunted in disgust at the black, dense liquid that swirled inside the small glass container.
“This elixir is made with quite a rare mushroom—Algernon’s cap.” The apothecary grinned. “It will give you the intellectual powers you seek.”
The hooded traveler snatched the vial from the apothecary’s hands and tossed him a gold coin. He inspected it closely, then unsheathed his sword and pointed it at the old man. “If this doesn’t work, I will cut you down where you stand.”
The apothecary nodded.
The traveler drank the potion in a single gulp.
A few tense seconds passed. Then, the man clutched his belly, grimaced, turned around, and dashed towards the woods—diarrhea streaming down his pants.
“What a goddamn idiot,” the apothecary said to his assistant. “Let’s get the hell out of here before he comes back.”
— Bastian Espada
“And who’ll buy all the stuff if people aren’t getting paid?”
“The robots can be programmed to consume.”
“So that’s your grand vision, huh? Just robots making things, robots buying things and a few lucky bastards owning the whole damn thing.”
“No, of course not. Robots can be programmed to own as well.”
— Bastian Espada
“That’s always your excuse! You say you’re tired.”
“That’s ‘cause I always am.”
“And not just when it comes to this, you use it for multiple things!”
“Well, that’s ‘cause I’m always tired in multiple ways.”
— Bastian Espada
She’s drinking wine,
He’s guzzling beers,
They’re welcoming New Year’s,
Playing Pokemon with the kids.
— Bastian Espada
“The sun will shine tomorrow, life will yet again be worth living. Please…”
“Oh, I don’t doubt for a second that you’re correct darling. In fact, that’s very much the reason I’m in a hurry to end it all today.”
— Bastian Espada
Under a dark cloudy sky, a woman — dressed in a full chicken costume— places her wedding ring on top of a coffin.
The casket is lowered into the ground.
One last promise, fulfilled.
— Bastian Espada
“The sun sets, we ride!”
And so they did, for a while, then they stopped because they couldn’t see anything.
— Bastian Espada
“For the twelve days of Christmas my true love sent to me—a bunch of birds. Whole lotta’ em.”
“Really? How’d that turn out?”
“I stepped on toucan shit this morning.”
— Bastian Espada
“If someone looks up at the sky and imagines a better world, a better way of being for all things, a less brutal condition for all creation—are they flipping the universe off? Or is it the other way around?”
“Well, sonny, that’s kinda the thing with human imagination, ain’t it? It’s both, it’s always a little bit of both.”
— Bastian Espada
“Why wouldn’t you agree to this? That’s just ego!”
“Damn right it’s ego. And not just any ego, but MY ego—which is superior to ALL egos.”
— Bastian Espada