Kompressor Loves God!
Kompressor lick God’s CRT until eyes glow like irradiated yo-yos.
Kompressor feed the God to shark like chopped up fish.
Kompressor shave off God’s pubic hair.
Kompressor Ctrl-Alt-Delete God.
Kompressor slither across innards-drenched razorwire with God’s quivery ear in clenched teeth.
Kompressor force God, at gunpoint, stretch His or Her genitalia into puppetry shape then beat up in 1970s Kung Fu style.
Kompressor use God’s corpse as scarecrow.
Kompressor pour head-madness into God, whole damn concept go way of Milli Vanilli Dodo bird.
Kompressor support international terrorism in the name of God.
Kompressor carve 666 into small of God’s back then make Him or Her walk like camel, squeal like pig.
Kompressor sip treacle with God, rescue altar boys then learn what happens when Kompressor’s homeys die. Kompressor no believe in heaven.
Kompressor axe God’s followers, use gristle as fuel to power new SUV jalopy.
Kompressor jam plastic New World Order down God’s choking and gagging throat.
Kompressor sell last known piece of God for $7.00 on eBay.
Kompressor laugh at God while getting pedicure and ripping up Bible.
Kompressor buy God lapdance from 6’3″ hermaphrodite with hay-color hair and perfect teeth.
Kompressor throw television out window so television crush God’s head.
Kompressor want know why everyone says believe God then want Kompressor give them money.
Kompressor save lost souls, leave Nietzsche quotes in God’s collection plates.
Kompressor tell everyone not trust God, because they should never trust a junkie.
Geoffrey H. Goodwin likes to tell people that he can see in the dark. Geoffrey also likes to say that books have ruined his life. He has a Shelley Jackson tattoo and lives near Boston, which is near where Geoffrey and Amy rapped a Beastie Boys song in front of a live audience. Clearly, Geoffrey lies. He has interviewed speculative writers and artists for Jessa Crispin’s Bookslut, as well as Tor.com, Sirenia Digest, The Mumpsimus, and during Ann Vandermeer’s editorship of Weird Tales. His fiction has appeared in Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet (issues ten, thirteen, and fifteen), and also in Rabid Transit, two anthologies from Prime Books, and other places that are into that kind of thing or that get closer when you ignore them. In general, we are all becoming a meow of unknowing, sometimes quickly and sometimes slowly. Coffee occasionally helps when you’re not sure if you’ve ever been to Ohio. We should probably look into drones because, let’s face it everybody, the kind of people who have the wherewithal to possess drones really aren’t the kind of people who should be stealing the sky from us. It’s easy to lose track of what’s on the ends of our forks when we’re busy trying to find unmarked and unpersoned vehicles that might be targeting things we care about.