The Things That Should Be Done to It

My bike seat was stolen today.

I had locked my bike to a fence on Carroll Street, west of Fourth Avenue in Brooklyn, because of the snow, and taken the subway into town. A hose clamp reinforced the quick-release bolt, which in turn held my bike seat in place. The thief pried the hose clamp loose to release the bolt. When I got back that evening, the hose clamp lay twisted and useless around the stump where my seat had once stood.

What can be said for the thief’s soul? Its soul is rotten like infectious bile in the colon of a pig ten weeks dead. It is decayed like the the pedals of a corpse flower buried in offal. Its mind is infected with evil like a gangrenous sore oozing puss and churning with maggots. Its psyche twists around a monolith of depravity like a choking vine. Its body pulses with a life so gross that to kill it would desecrate the executioner by his proximity.

Many things should be done to the organism that stole my bike seat. Horrors inconceivable to the collective mind of humanity should happen to it. Punishment should rain mercilessly down on every entity culpable for this cosmic moral failure. Blood should flow like a galactic gas cloud at high tide.

All the resources in the world should immediately be redirected to righting the grievance. Martial law should be declared. Uniformed paramilitary groups should fan out through the world’s metropolitan and rural areas, kicking in doors, dragging the people out, sorting through all the bike seats everywhere, finding mine, and finding and identifying the thing that perpetrated this act of evil on me.

The wisest people in every country should be brought together to ponder the most humiliating and torturous punishment in all history for the depraved thing that stole my bike seat and every tangible or intangible thing that has ever been causally or materially related to the bike seat thief. Rats should be induced to burrow through its eyes. It should be garroted like a medieval heretic. It should be impaled on a red hot Judas cradle. It’s abdomen should be sawed through lengthwise.

Anything that has ever interacted economically or biologically with the thief, ad infinitum, should be strapped to Catherine wheels and cudgelled. Its tribe should be marched across the Great Plains. Its friends and associates and classmates and customers and clients and cousins and second-cousins and third-cousins and cousins once removed and twice removed, et cetera, should be strapped to racks and stretched until their bones dislocate. Then they should be stretched until they come apart. Then their flesh should be eaten by flies, then the flies should be burned in gas ovens. Then the ovens should be smashed into ruins and forgotten.

Those who speak the language and share the cultural affiliations of the thief should be found and concentrated and bombed with nerve gas. Everyone who’s ever come into accordance with the bike seat thief on any judgement or assertion should be identified and dragged out and stomped in public, forced to take enemas of lye, baptised in microwaves, and then their families should be cut apart with dull reciprocating saws while they watched strapped in a head crusher. The whole national power grid should be devoted to running the reciprocating saws.

And then all the resources should be put towards developing a time machine, and the machine should be brought back through the thief’s ancestry one generation at at time, and each of it’s ancestors should be pilloried, forced to drink Clorox, burned at the stake, stabbed with rusty spikes, and quartered by draft horses again and again, forever. Pet animals in the vicinity and the organisms in symbiotic relationships with all the thief’s ancestor’s bodies should be inoculated with botulism and rabies and dragged out to desert plains to die of thirst. Multiple time machines should be deployed to make sure all the thief’s ancestors all through time since the dawn of the universe are constantly being violently abused.

They are all culpable.

The crack teams should root out to the last every soul that still harbors the slightest modicum of empathy for the bike-seat-stealing thing. All through time and space the gangs should roam, beating and stomping and boiling the blood of everything that ever had any connection whatsoever to the thing that stole my bike seat. Sympathizers should be dragged into the nighttime streets and shot like mangy dogs. Then the fleas on the dogs should be picked out and crushed. Then the crushed fleas should be cast into a lake of urine.

Then those who sympathise with the sympathizers should be pulled out and forced to swallow feces and then shot, and then their limp bodies should be shot again a few times for good measure, and then run through wood chippers and mixed with the vomit of a billion bed bugs and simmered in septic sludge. Everyone who dies should be marched to the lowest echelon of hell and forced to dig a lower echelon. Then anyone whose mind has ever entertained the slightest sense of forgiveness for any part of humanity or the animal or floral or fungal kingdoms related to the bike thief should be hunted down like serfs by a pack of hounds, made to run over open fields and shot down for marksmanship practice. Then their families should be charged for the ammunition.

Then the crack teams shall all commit Seppuku in unison because they will have been befouled by their very existence in the same world as the thief of my bike seat.

Members of all the organizations on whose watch this happened, including the United States government, the United Nations, the World Health Organization, INTERPOL, NATO, the AARP, and the Chamber of Commerce, should be shut up in their buildings while the buildings are soaked in gasoline and packed with Tovex and imploded upon them. Then the workers who built the buildings should be tried in a tribunal and hanged by their necks. Then the rope that hanged them should be unravelled and chewed up by dust mites. Then the farms of the farmers who fed the people who worked in the agencies on whose watch this crime was committed should be gassed until they whither and cobalt bombs should be detonated over them to spread radiation on them so they will remain dead forever.

The nations that gave birth to the thief should be attacked with hundred-megaton hydrogen bombs and neuron bombs and q-fever and Marburg virus and VX gas. Hydrogen cyanide clouds should be unleashed over the fleeing masses. Volcanoes should be drilled with MOABs and nuked until the crust of the earth shatters open and magma boils the oceans. The moon should be pulled from its orbit so that it smashes into Earth and splits the planet apart. Then the sun should be blown up in a supernova, consuming the solar system. Then the galaxy should be crashed into another galaxy, again and again until every solar system is pulverized. Then God should be torn apart by a swarm of possums. Then God’s body should be vomited back up and mixed with pubic hair and boiled in stellar plasma and vaporized. Then the fabric of space and time should be sucked into a supermassive black hole and crushed into nothingness forever.

After all that has been done, I want my bike seat back.