watermelon island chapter sixty four


Don’t let the sun go down on your grievance. Don’t let the sun go down on your grievance. The goths were singing a little ditty together. It was to bring them all together. The Easter Bunny had collected the words from a boy named Daniel Johnston. He bought this Mr. Johnston’s tape and never forgot about the sun and grievances. The Easter Bunny was part football coach and part guru. It was a good mix. Hyping up his goth players in a locker room full of watermelons. And then giving them soft worded advice like an enlightened post-hippie living a simple life of love and rainbows and veggie smoothies.
The goths tapped in time. Respect love of the heart over lust of the flesh. Don’t let the sun go down on your grievance.

By the time the Easter Bunny was done with them, they were soft as clay. But they could become as hard as iron too. He only had to say the word. The word was: grievance.

The merry band of goths swayed out of the watermelon dressing room like confident jocks. The Easter Bunny slapping them on their asses as they walked through the door. Then they all went to the organic vegetarian cafeteria and took up a whole table. Most of the middle class ecologically minded holiday makers stared at them. The middle class holiday makers were in nice flowery dresses from Burberry or polo causals. They ate their brans and grains with yogurt whereas the goths ate nothing but cornflakes. Heaps and heaps of corn flakes. With sugar on top. The goths kept on black clothes and black lipstick even though it was almost 42 degrees celsius on the island.





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