The Wonk Yap is coming.
Shopping carts circle fires on access roads, cooking meat, villages built up over years. I took a look at the excess driftwood. The neighbors wouldn't talk. It was up to me.
I burgled their houses while foraging.
Wonk Yap will downfall Homo sap, take women underground. People on waterways realize this. They infiltrate into yards.
There are Wonks in hidden documents, similarities.
They are named.
But people don't want discussion. Government knows and is afraid.
You see analogies. Draw your own conclusions.
The common name of Homo wonk is itself a pun. In the city called a wild gyak, it is a wap in country homes. The cook can be a wild wok. That's easy.
This beast resembles Homo sap, but Homo yak you've heard, has two legs, breeds in open places, is hairy. Research nears completion. Even considering its inner nurture it is not a clone.
The Yap has affronted many people. Detectors at home centers are probably being wonkufacted by the beasts themselves.
The cultured ask when wonkufact began.
If beasts within, within where we'd like to know. Gentle Wagner? Asking atavistically, if they're different from our neighbors, are they different from our friends? Fatal to mistake from either end.
Wonk Yap is planning to download Homo sap. People on waterways know.
There aren't many choices. Either Wonk Yap is bestial or we are ourselves!
Neighbors dream that monsters with gills and horny heads steal children along the canals. Project Canal denied this when revealed. But it explains acid burns on arms.
Citizens with questions want to know. Go down canal, defend our homes!
Humanitarians argue take the Wonk Yap view. How does it feel to youth in combat, lied to, told by superiors "oh, it's just a bruise," when a .22 long rifle exits below?
Psychologists reconstruct these dreams with fears, but people are being asked to understand that the sea man in us is us and we them.
What happens if when shot in the neck, human child beside, acid glands moldering, generals send innocents to their demise?
Or are we men?
People ignore signs, slime on banks, troughs where webbed feet climbed.
They ignore dreams.
Do not argue the list Wonk Yap is making, rumors that occur in the Wonk Yap taking. These appear in unguarded talk we intend to forestall.
To make danger clearer we have a chorus, go around and shout, "That Wonking Yap."
It's urgent to break into mass mind.
Is this confessing it there?
We could go around naming, say you're a Wonk Yap. It's hard to be wrong.
Many urge addresses. "Which one is this, this one and this?"
Alas I was born for such a time.
I'm not saying give beast a chance.
I'm saying take our country back.
Yap math teaches parts unequal to the whole.
Their literature teaches less is more.
Easily turned, these attempts define ourselves.
Is your experience of more more or is it less? If Yap promises more, don't you bawl and bawl?
Isn't that already on cereal packages?
But is he him or us?
Does it sound like your boss, your brother? That's the problem! Without a label how can anyone know?
Dispelling rumors we probe the poetry of this beast, primitive in waiting. The Wonk is skillful in disguise. He uses protective coloring.
He talks like a Democrat.
He talks like a plebiscite.
There's a Wonk Yap history, that's plain. There is a fundamental Wonk feeling.
These people don't go to school. They swim Atlantis for krill. They are commonly found in libraries and buildings.
Wonk Yap mechanics aspire high office. They don't creep on bellies in slime. They are not the thing mother got at grocery, teddy and furry fluff.
Wonk Yaps practice, indoctrinate their young to be like us.
Dark within, where no man has gone, where blood pounds the fish groggy with plume, Wonk Yap flourishes, plans and pumps out the rhetoric of mastermind.
The Wonk Yap thinks he's perfect.
Why else would he want your wife?
Why does he live in your yard?
Veni vidi vinci, in other words, "me man, me."
How do you know when a man acting bestially is a man or a Yap acting humanely?
A guy from Billings wrote in to ask about his dad. He asked, "How do I know if the shrunken head my dad got in Ecuador in the '30s isn't the head of a monkey?"
This treasure, this thing is our problem.
Have you never suspected the entire cow buried beneath one skull in a garden?
I went for proof. No bone was interred.
I shot my pencil down.
It was as soft as peanut butter.
If the bones are thus elusive, to what lengths must these creatures go to preserve anonymity!
The Yap is burrowing, insinuating, sneaking. Has it a soul? Can it be saved? To these burning questions who answers can give?
Homo sap must decide while Wonk Yap is creeping to reach down and engage him in dialogue like Tolstoy.
Or is it better to drive him out to waste places, assuming we cannot at this late date eradicate the manster?
Thinking wonkishly may defeat him.
Hardly is that wack out when an image troubles my site.
Have you seen it too?
It is diabolical and cunning, sly and self serving.
Does it sound like someone you know?
Is your grammarian a Yak? Will civilization overturn from poultry workers? Taxi drivers? Journalists? Teachers? John McCain? Eek! Have you no pity for a child clutched by a Yap?
Would Yap be the vanguard of homogenization, removed difference in interest of ambiguity?
Yes, yes, and of course, no, to all the above.
Wonk is smarter than believed.They can strip your trees with furry ants. They can regulate the air. Breathe freely now, the Yap meter is running.
Will they not wonk?
Let them not breathe!
The Wookeries themselves are teeming yet not fully known.
Cabalists have it that you will rush down to the pet shop to liberate a pensioner.
Will you? If so they have won.
Do you approve them umpiring the Major Leagues?
Government computers theorize hybrid forms are making other forms.
There is proof that the thing that looks like a thing might be another thing and not the thing you think.
Writers shall speak of wong yaps and longsocks, begets of wog and bobbleys, of bogaries, facquis, lopi rotisseries and wacquiries!
An egg will look like a gibbous moon.
It looks like us and talks like us and acts like us.
How do we know it ain't us?