The Bureau of Dreams to be Continued by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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The Bureau of Dreams to be Continued
Page 297
Hollow Idol
“Abigail and the Hollow Idol”
Abigail found herself in a thrift store cathedral, where the pews were made of broken guitar cases and the altar was a stack of vintage flannel shirts. The congregation murmured in mumbled Nirvana lyrics, half remembered and misquoted, like sacred texts passed through too many mouths; which really didn’t matter as they were nonsense to begin with, and evolved to being other nonsense; the concept extremely popular with Millennials.
From behind a curtain of static, Kurt Cobain emerged; not as a ghost, but as a living relic. His eyes flickered like an incorrectly tracked VHS tape, and his voice was tuned to the frequency of old MTV interviews. Abigail, clutching a cassette labeled “Authenticity,” approached him with reverence.
“You were the oracle of angst,” she said. “The prophet of the disenchanted.”
Kurt scratched his arm, revealing a barcode tattoo that read “Grunge.” He lit a cigarette with a backstage pass and replied, “I’m just the product of your projections, babe. You said that you wanted raw truth, but you easily settled for curated rebellion.”