...Heavy Soul...

Soul? 

Yea sure, he had soul. 

Man, he was overflowing with it! 

Dude sneeze, yo, 

you better say 

geisundheit twice, 

cause this motherf...

 

Um, yea... 

He be hangin’ some 

serious soul out there. 

Know what I’m sayin’?  

Cuz had some heavy, heavy soul. 

Beelzebub come lookin’ 

to take brotherman’s soul... 

blood better have him a forklift. 

Know what I’m sayin’?

 

Okay. 

So we’ve established  that 

this particular individual 

had a substantial soul. 

A soul that went beyond 

the perceived norm 

when it came to soul 

volume and mass. 

Soul density to the 

   power of infinity. 

Yea, and that 

“power of infinity” 

kinda’ means 

your basic forklift 

ain’t gonna hack it. 

 

What was odd was that

he could have such an

incredibly heavy soul and yet, 

while still in the realm of the living, 

carry it with the minimum of strain. 

To even be able to dance 

with such dense soul without... Well... 

To execute a non-lethal pelvic thrust. 

Truly amazing and yet

totally under-appreciated by the ladies. 

 

No. The inconvenience of 

a super high-density soul 

really only became a factor at 

the moment of death. 

Where everyone else’s souls shot off to 

their respective destinations, 

his heavy soul just lay there and lingered. 

And lingered. 

     And lingered. 

 

Yes, having a heavy soul 

did have its detriments. 

Of course there was that 

slight buzz he got when 

the formaldehyde started to flow. 

Yea, there was that. 

But even that made him feel 

like death warmed over. 

And that smile they but on his face... 

Nah. He’d never smiled like that. 

And that suit they put him in... 

He wouldn’t be caught dead 

   in a suit like that. 

 

Why? 

Well, ‘cause he had too much soul. 

 

And no. It wasn’t all that 

Marvin Gaye spinning away over there. 

And no. It wasn’t all that 

Al Green spinning away over there. 

 

No. 

His soul 

was right there where the hole was. 

Right there dead center of the 

darkest vinyl ever pressed. 

There where the groove was gone. 

Void of voice. 

      Absolute dead air. 

 

Yes, he was a heavy slab of vinyl 

the needle had touched 

one too many times. 

 

Ó05 Jack David Hubbell