Beach Sloth

I’M DANIEL ALEXANDER AND I’M WRITING A BOOK by Libby Rindal

                Libby speaks to all the bored people of America. She tells them “Put down the video game and give a hoot, read a book”. Nobody takes her up on this offer. Building a railroad out of her ribcage is a great thing. Usually the ribcage is used as a xylophone in cartoons. Her new usage makes more sense as public transportation is wonderful. People love Libby’s intoxicating ‘Eau Du Bowling Alley’ smell. Bowling alleys are the birth places of dreams. Here Libby can seduce countless pin jockeys with her sweet words. Only thing she wants is her hair to remain clean. With a shampoo/conditioner hybrid that’s easy enough to do. 

                Sweet dreams are not made from Libby’s imagination. Swimming in a dream indicates that the person must continue to go forward. Libby’s grandmother convinces her that life is worth living, and then she repeatedly stabs her in the back to confirm this is what life is all about. Getting stabbed in the back is part of growing up. When somebody doesn’t get stabbed in the back well by golly that’s a swell day! Unfortunately Libby’s cellphone rudely awakens her from this pleasant dream. The lesson of the dream is clear: not to swim naked. If somebody swims naked they should expect a knife in the back. 

                Deities explain everything. Libby wishes there was a deity to explain how people look at her. What Libby doesn’t realize is that she herself is a deity because she is a true goddess. Many envy the way Libby listens to ominous 80s music. In the 80s lots of things were ominous since Reagan wanted it that way. Reagan was big into the occult. At least Libby’s diet is going well. Though dead skin and fingernails may appear to be an extreme diet it is just another part of growing up. Anxiety needs a diet why not dead things. 

                Crying paint is a rare skill. Libby cries paint all over her bed, probably because she’s the deity of paint. Nobody told her this fact. She had to learn it on her own. So while Libby can’t cry anybody a river, in a three day period she cries enough paint to paint both a living room and kitchen. That’s not easy. Her little brother isn’t easy either. By calling things ‘stupid’ Libby’s brother fails to see the beauty of stupidity. Ignorance is a hell of a drug. People get high off of their stupidity every day. They are called ‘teachers’. 

                By the end everything crumbles except Libby. Libby is tough, built Ford-tough. She is like a rock, oh yeah, like a rock. Libby Rindal is the Chevy Pickup truck of alt lit.