This is the tale of one who flew the cuckoo’s nest. He had to use some turbines and a string, then hope that the wind didn’t throw it too much off course and cause it to crash into the city nearby. Cities were annoying things to him since all they knew were their self-imposed rules that they tried to impose on everyone else too.

What those rules were really good for was unknown to the one who flew the cuckoo’s nest. The nearest he could guess was they had problems in those cities that could only be solved with their rules. If that was the case, fine. They can keep their rules. Just don’t go around expecting decent folk making decent livings in decent country land to bow and scrape before them. They were totally fine as they were. The cities’ rules couldn’t hope to make things better for them.

The nest soared high above a storm, its turbines spinning and churning the wind into a tornado, which then spun off in the general direction of the city.

Well, cheese crackers, thought the one who flew the cuckoo’s nest. They’d probably come up with some new rule to throw at decent folk after this. He flipped a switch on his vest to cut the turbines, letting the nest fall to the earth in a dramatic, tangled heap of twigs and storm-tossed regrets.

I suppose the point of all this is to say that you just gotta be decent to people and eat your vegetables.

The Astral Wanderer is brought to you by violent storms composed half of inspiration, half of whatever I happened to eat yesterday. Like this post and share it, or else your dreams may come tumbling out of the sky to strike you on the head. Really.