Jack Flannery Will Not Bring Us With Him

(Author's Note: I have decided to do something a little different with this blog and publish a blog exclusive book composed of short vignettes, you'll see what it's about over time)

I. Some Very Good Bread

Jack Flannery will not bring us with him, though he promised to send somebody when the time was right. He was a terrible liar. His words buzzed like little mosquitoes, flying by, tickling your cheek, taking a little bit out of you, leaving you somewhat less of your essence. You ignore them, try to slap them out of the sky, but they're still there, the bug bite, the loss, the tiny bit gone, the waste of your time. He was a charming bastard, that Jack Flannery, who made truth and fiction moot, descended from the bards who peopled the motherland with carnivorous boggarts and satinfleshed queens of the sidhe. Now that he is gone, his bullshit still roams the earth, but it's confused and has no direction in life. For example, the Martians that made him forget his ex-wife's birthday with amnesia rays are now running a Martian restaurant in New York (though I think now they serve some sort of Cajun/Martian fusion cuisine).
Last time I was in the states I stopped by and said hello, told them I was a friend of Jack's.
"I don't know for the life of me what he was talking about," the Martian confided in me about Jack, "I haven't used amnesia rays since Sinatra cashed in that favor and had us kidnap JFK."
Martian food is incredible. They make a bread that loves you for who you really are, which makes it almost tragically delicious. When I finished my meal, I left him a five dollar bill, which he found confusing.
"I don't even know this guy," said the Martian, "is the likeness good?"
Then I remembered that Martians don't really have currency, which made me wonder how they managed to pay the rent on their building. I gave him a picture of my cat.
"That's much better. You earthpeople should stop trying to pass off photos of people you don't even know. Where's the sentimental value? This guy I know, or maybe you just know him. It's hard to tell, but at least you gave me something I could use."
I spent the rest of my trip to New York talking to literature professors I didn't know from Adam about the Lestryngonians episode of Ulysses. Lucky I'd already eaten, because that one had a tendency to make me hungry. Most of the time, I was thinking of the Martians and the lies and the knowledges that Cork's Baron Munchausen was gone and he would not bring us with him, though he had sworn he would.