A hunk of Spam the size of jupiter has supplanted the

The Spam is an imperial sponge - soaking up the world's
oceans - absorbing the continents - growing the
temperate desert suburb of Vegas-Roit, hanging off the
luncheon meat like a neon satellite appendage.

The Spam is a glittering but fading industrial pink orb,
casting massive pork by product shadows - oozing with
bubbling gels; shimmering in cloudy blue haloes of
sodium nitrite emanating from the timeless slippery

Millions of cars have been driven into the Spam's
surface over the millennia by countless and unknowing
kamikaze drivers flooring their gas pedals to take a
short cut to the spam's core.

The spam is spiked with cars of every make:
Pontiacs - Buics - Cadillacs - Lincoln
Continentals - Trans-Ams - Volvos - Alfa Romeos - Olds
Cutlass Supremes - Pintos - T
Birds - Ferraris - Limousines - Jaguars - Corvettes - Mits
ubishis - Isuzus - Mercury Cougar
XR7's - Saabs - BMW's - Mustangs -
Dusters - Peugots - Hondas - Mazdas - Impalas - Datsuns
- Camaros - Cheetahs - Firebirds - Rebels - Thunderbirds
- Valiants - Edsels - Mercedes Benzes -
Audis - Roust-abouts -
Etc. & Ad Infinitum... are projecting from the luncheon
meat like multi-colored metallic quills.

An aerial view of the Spam is a mosaic of back
bumpers, fenders, windows, trunks, tires and speckled
license plate razor wire. The fossilized drivers who
smashed through their windshields ages ago are
embedded in the Spam just beyond their steering
wheels, dashboards and front bumpers.

The mosaic of car spikes are linked by a vast web of
bubble gum once chewed by teenage girls - a hardened
pink saliva glistening vine stretching infinitely over the
expanse of rear bumpers - winding its way through tire
treads, trunks and fractured chassis - curling around
reflecting in the mirrors of the bumpers where it sizzles
in the salty neon air of Vegas-Roit.

Stalactites of congealed butter hang off
bumpers - bubbling over at their narrow tips with
clogged blood vessels and high blood pressures of many
a Vegas-Roitian.

Vegas-Roit, a hybrid of Las Vegas and Detroit, is a
homogenized suburb of identical split-level box houses
built from the crumbled, reprocessed remains of car
factory assembly lines, hotels, motels, gambling casinos,
night clubs, bars, instant divorce agencies and porno

The former earth's extinct begitation is replaced with a
desert of broken-glass-cotton-candy-fiber-glass sand
littered with woolen tumble weeds fallen prematurely
from flocks of aging pink wrinkled lambs wandering
through the orange-grey landscape.

On the front lawn of each house is a gold plated junk
food tycoon lawn jockey, holding up aluminum keys
once used to open cans of Spam in bygone days when it
was packaged in cube shaped metal containers. The
lawn jockeys are testaments to the age of gluttony,
quaint kitsch relics, deified talismans and reminders of
the gluttony rush exodus of which no Vegas-Roitian can

Millions of Vegas-Roitians are burrowing into the
Spam, eating away at the exposed areas of meat
between the car spikes. Each Vegas-Roitian takes the
key from a lawn jockey as a good luck charm
guaranteeing a safe trip to the Spam's core in quest of
paradise. In a cloudy mirage, laden with the ghosts of
photosynthesis past, the ozone layer in the sky of
Vegas-Roit has long since vanished. The
Vegas-Roitians burrow into the Spam to escape
the radiation of the sun which kills the suburban
inhabitants by the age of 25.

The Spam is divided into various weather zones: Arctic
meat locker zones, rotting carrion tropical zones, windy
porous Tierra Del Fuego zones, temperate tundra zones,
Scandinavian tropical rain forest zones, Hawaiian
island tourist zones, and African Atlantis zones rife with
aquatic vultures swimming in schools through gelatin
srpings running throughout the planet.

Over generations, the Spam settlers adapt to the
climatic conditions of their respective zones. The arctic
Spam settlers developing hard metallic teeth to chew
through frozen meat. The tropical Spam settlers losing
their superfluous teeth while gliding blithely through
soft warm spread having the consistency of baby food.
The tropical Spam settlers develop antibodies to
protect them from the bacteria of kitten sized
radioactive maggots dwelling in the carrion of their
swampy meal.

A renegade Johnny Appleseed rides a motorcycle,
furiously blazing new trails ahead of the slow mouth
eaten paths of his brethren; invading all meat zones,
planting seeds of Oak, Sycamore and Redwood in the
tracks of his bike, attempting to resurrect extinct
vegitation in the Spam.