WOMEN: Roll yourself up in cellophane, take an UltraDose of Ketamine and send a selfie of you listening to the latest TrueAnon to the guy you’ve been texting. He doesn’t respond? This is because he is busy trapping owls to freeze and eat over the following week. https://twitter.com/ChrisRandone/status/1246088017699364865

He knows: Once you kill your first owl and eat it’s heart, you gain it’s power. You can twist your head around like the baby from Dinosaurs. You can hear everything—including the tip-tap of overlong fingernails on a digital keyboard on a woman’s cyber phone as she texts “U ok?”

A necklace of beaks. A sarong of many-colored feathers. Claws dangle from everywhere—wrists, ankles, nipples. You are draped in Owl, men. 20 miles away she removes her AirPods; 50 selfies and she finally found the angle. She hits send once more. But you’ve already taken flight..

The world looks beautiful. You soar...it’s nice to feel the wind again, and if you close your eyes it’s almost like heaven. But you’re not really flying—simply running, leaping, scanning the gutters for rats which you’ll take up with sharpened teeth and devour raw on the sidewalk

Her sapiosexual thrustings have failed. You do not desire a woman any longer. Simply rats & their blood. Nutrition. Cobwebs grow like daffodils on the beans in your pantry. Your larder stays stocked to the brim. You are the He-Owl. You do not need human food.

Mr. Moloch, the Owl of Athena, the 29 year old furloughed worker who has destroyed his PS4 with his psychotic writhing and now sits in perfect silence, perched on the room. She decided that maybe you have COVID. Maybe she should check on you. She decides to get in her car.

You do not pounce and destroy. You watch her blue gloved hand rap a sharp knock on your door. You see her peer, nervously, through a window as if she’s a teenaged voyeur. You do not want human flesh; moist or dry, flesh from the crotch or the neck, none of it. Rat blood!

As she leaves, you feel the last vestiges of your former Self leave with her. Your shadow and your light trail her in her Volvo. You have become the Stud, the Owl, the Feathered Man. You think—I’ve finally reached Phase II.

If you eat enough of anything you eventually become it. This is why many Americans are pigs and why they so often imitate the docile Cow. This is why I’ve been eating bats, even in Corona. I need supersonic hearing and to hang upside down. Have a good Saturday, keep this in mind.