12th Century Castles: #NoFilter

Georgian Karst Castles with wide parapets, ruined turrets, and Berthold Brecht laughing under your sink:

He peeks out, "I found your problem."

"Yes, Berthold?"

"The expressive trope of Art is a farce propagated by the reification of culture."

You stop washing the dishes. "And the sink?"

Then, he is interceded by God incarnate, your friend from work Deb, and Keith Carradine. They all walk into the kitchen. Keith is smoking a fat cigar. 

They all sing in chorus, "Dig a hole. Dig a hole. Dig a hole."

Keith Carradine gives the finger to Berthold and a fight ensues. After Berthold comes out of the skirmish pinning Keith's scapula to the linoleum, God procures a yellow front-end loader from his friend from Korea, Shi-wei. He drives it through your kitchen window, shouting prosaically, "This should get the job done."

Keith Carradine then stabs Berthold in the lateral meniscus. There is some feud between families that goes way back, when the Brechts controlled the shogunate and the Carradines's feifdom was compromised by locusts.

Berthold, through tears, whispers to you, "Dasein."

God returns with a new Jackhammer and begins to dig a grave for Berthold.

"I'm not dead" says Berthold.

Turning a muscled deltoid to face the German dramatist, God replies, "Well I am." 

Debra stirs her amber port with a blunt pinky and stares out the gaping hole in your wall.

Keith Carradine throws his head back and laughs, laughs, laughs.

"I thought you were pregnant, Deb" says Berthold, clasping his bleeding knee.

Debra throws the crystal snifter to the floor. She crouches low to the ground. "Enter the Dragon."

God breathes fire and begins to build a chalk model of the human mouth on your tile counter.

You look directly at the camera. "I should write about my neighbor Abe", you say, finishing the poem.