The Last Days of Ralph Grevin, Patriarch

Posted: October 3, 2013 in Uncategorized

A shiny monocle. A pith helmet. A corncob pipe. The best fake mustache that you have ever seen, friend.

And I bet you never noticed that he was a Saint Bernard. Any other Saint Bernard we’d dressed like so, you would have said  “oh, that’s cute”. But we’d bred a line of them to look the part or looked what we thought the part looked like- it had been awhile- and they were good enough.

Again, you wrong us, motherfucking Fifth Estate.

“The Patriarch is a dog! There was never a Patriarch!”

It sounded so good, your abortions, your hugs, your naked dancing in the rain.

But we can’t live in a void. Who will we be?

Ralph Grevin was a joke. He was a just a man. What the hell does being a man have to do with Patriarchy?

Nothing, that’s what.

Ralph Grevin collected Pokemon cards. His favorite food was syrup. He did not know the thread count of his sheets. Ralph Grevin had a Salad Shooter he never used. He felt the name was violent.

So when we blackjacked him, raped him some, tossed him into a canoe in an Olympic sized pool, he wasn’t quite ready.

He thought the pool was the world. He thought the granola  bars on the canoe would have to last a lifetime. He didn’t even think what we’d left him the gun for.

Six days later, we picked him in a chopper. Flew him to HQ. Anointed him with oils and alien blessings.

It might have been what to do. See, we had never done this before.

We gave him some porn and some Scotch. Took him to a stripclub.  Wrestled him naked as a choir of monks chanted solemnly “NO HOMO!”

Then we told him he was Patriarch. There was a better party. Dude, you should have been there.

Then suddenly “Why don’t we just…”

We’d never gotten “why don’t we just…”

He said it all the time.

And we tried it.

It worked.

Which made him the shittiest Patriarch of all time.

Three weeks in, he made a suit of armor. He called himself Professor Malevolence. The Patriarch does what he wants.

With superscience at his disposal, he crafted universal freedoms. He let the women choose a matriarch.

I spent six days in the hospital. Superscience fixed my head and got the bullet out.

He showed us how to shrink ourselves and colonize our own insides. So we know that everything is running smoothly.

I take vacations in myself sometimes. If only for the sake of  nostalgia.

I remember the night when for reasons unknown, he unspooled his DNA. Unhelixed, undone we found him.

He left a note which said “stay cool”.

So thanks again, Fifth Estate.

We all remember what the next guy did.

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