TWENTY-SEVEN: PARTY OF THE FOURTH PART

Is there TV at the party, is there party at the TV or are the stars out tonight in the ceiling of the sky. Is there TV in the air, in the sky, in the lying, or is it all the static of TV face, and there is no denying. TV is as TV does and the sky goes by with its clouds of lights and where do you go when you want to see a show and it’s party bodies all to and fro.

Fight your way thru the plastic glasses, fight your way thru the standing feet and the folding chairs and the little things to eat if you are Cyclops and you have thirty-eight eyes plus two more watching darkness unless you open up your fly.

Look around now for the TV steak and the oh for heaven’s sake, and the leaves and the rakes. Look around you for nightmare, for Stella and for Bella and their scissors of hair, and they live in the corner where they’re talking to the ears and the eyes of Michael the Unwise and Rachel the Easy.

It’s a party but they’ve got their books so don’t be giving them dirty looks but Stella and Bella think they can do something with the hair of Rachel and the hair of Michael that is only sometimes there.

If it’s a party there must be style and there is styling in this party. Go there to get your hair, and if your nails are long, just listen to this song.

And as the hair is cut and falling and so are the eyes and there is crying with the cutting and Cyclops is crying too.

“I drank too much and now I am sad, and my living room is gone, and I forgot to sing my song, and my TV is no place, and I have a second face, and of Dingy Bahsome’s awesome show I cannot find a trace.”

And nobody in the barber’s chairs knows what he’s saying or even cares, and nobody with a scissors in her hand can listen so carefully as to understand.

“Maybe we can make you look better,” said Stella.

“Let’s cut your manhair so your eyes don’t get wetter,” said Bella.

But Cyclops is already cut down to size, he’s got thirty-eight eyes and two more in his pants. He’s at the party but he’s had too much to drink, too much to drink and not enough to dance.

“Maybe we can read you a story,” said Michael.

“Maybe a story will make you less sorry,” said Rachel.

But Cyclops doesn’t need to hear a story, he needs to see a story, he needs to see the glory, he needs to hear the roary roary of the stars and of the one star, and he needs a TV if he wants this to see, to see Dingy Bahsome, for to see her would be awesome.

“I want my hair and I want my TV. It’s all so easy when you are me,” and Cyclops is crying so much he could drink all his tears instead of fifteen beers.

“Well cry yourself mad,” said Bella.

“And just stay so sad,” said Stella.

“And don’t listen to us,” said Michael.

“You ornery cuss,” said Rachel.

And the voice came on the loudspeaker and round and bouncing as a basketball sneaker: “Prepare for the speech, for soon will come the speech by Scrunchyface the Develorapter.”