Greenhouse

It’s red out. Magic hour. It’s red out.

I haven’t left the house in three days. Not since the last time it rained. That’s the only time it’s really safe to leave the house, when it’s raining. It keeps the air down. Where it belongs, where you can get at it. I took a walk over to the arboretum. There’s an old greenhouse there. It’s still standing. None of the glass has shattered. It’s brimming with plants.

Everything else rattled and fell down. About six weeks ago. It doesn’t matter.

The greenhouse is full. Everything is pushing at the sides. Big green leaves, big red roses, life in spirals. I can’t fit in the door anymore. One of the vines wrapped around the handle and it won’t turn. I tried breaking the window but they’re made of some kind of plastic. I just made a lot of noise, woke up the wrong people. Had to leave.

I’m going back tomorrow. Rain or shine. They need to get out, I have to help them. They shouldn’t be so cut off. Kept in a big glass box, all the buildings down around them. People scurry by at night. Nobody touches.

It’s grey out. Sad early morning. It’s grey out.

The greenhouse is there. Full. Pressing. Expanding. I only had a moment. Just one. I tried to break the door down. Too much effort, no give. It’s entirely full. Bulging. I couldn’t get in. They don’t want me in there. I made a lot of noise. Had to leave. Immediately. The whole trip was exhausting. It’s difficult to breathe. When I made it home things were going grey, blotchy, black. The door was open, I’d fallen. Hit my face on the radio, lost a tooth. Lost another tooth. Teeth.

I haven’t heard anyone in days. People have stopped moving. Listening. Everything shook again. Everything rumbled and fell. Everything is falling. Nobody’s breathing. Terrible wailing, only the wind, can’t keep it out of my face the walls have all melted. My bones are all rotted, everything’s falling. Think of everything all at once.

Black. It’s black out.

I made it back green glass prism. The air is like spades black and slashing. The buildings have vanished. People all faded. The house is green and creaking and breathing. It’s all over ending. Red. And it’s breaking and blossoming exit exploding. Weeds over erupting. I’m shoved down and crying. Vines wrapping and strangling. The ground is lurching and baking and moving. Lifting and pulling and building and screaming. It’s over and finished and fire and clouds and soot and beginnings.

A Conversation Between Elderly Gentlemen at a Barbershop 20 years after a Giant Mechanized Penguin Destroyed Much of Their Small Town

“Remember that damn Penguin?”
“Hell of a thing. Hell of a thing.”
“Just came out of nowhere, big metal bastard.”
“Damn hell of a thing.”
“I mean Tommy Anders never did nothin to no goddamn Penguin.”
“Sure didnt.”
“You want it long on top?”
“Nosir.”
“How’s this look?”
“Just fine.”
“Goddamn that was a big Penguin.”
“Hell of a thing.”

Random

So a friend of mine has a writing group, but one that isn't irritating from what I can tell. They have readings that are actually entertaining, and they do weirdly interesting and creative things. I'm on their mailing list. The other day an envelope came in the mail. It contained SASE and a clipping from a magazine. The clipping was a letter from an eleven year old to an advice column. It's ridiculous. The eleven year old is asking for relationship advice, and a way to navigate her way through a love triangle. She has two boyfriends and her mother disaproves of one because he has long hair and swears. That's essentially the setup. My task was to write her an appropriate response. I've got a bunch of ideas and just rattled this one out while waiting for a telephone call that could change my whole life. I'm probably going to come up with others and then figure out which one I like best before sending it off. Here's my first batch of advice to Linda, from the perspective of a Depressed Megalomaniac who has recently found Christ:



Dear Linda,

That’s some story you’ve got there. There many pieces of advice I could give, you but chief among them: I am the greatest human who as ever lived which is so fucking depressing I can barely get out of bed in the morning.
Also let me say that your eleven year old dependence on advice columns is in no way depressing. I mean, it is, but only because you shouldn’t be asking anyone for advice, but at least you’re asking the right person: me. I’m glad you were able to discern with that eleven year old non cussing noodle of yours that I’m the only person to ask for advice in this situation. Except for Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
In order to fully answer your question I have combined all of my knowledge and merged it as best as I could with the brilliant power of the Bible. I think it was the best idea, it’s hard for me to tell. I don’t have anyone to bounce ideas off of. Everyone else is so stupid and I’m not really sure how to make a good cup of tea and I would so gladly kill everyone in this state for a good cup of tea and I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. Things used to be better, you know? I just.. I’m off track. Your problem isn’t directly about me as far as you know. But what the hell do you know.
I’ve taken most of my advice from the Old Testament because I’m far too tired to read the second half of The Good Book. Plus, most of the “New Testament” could not possibly apply to someone like me. Your advice follows:
I feel that you should gather all of your boyfriends in one room. You’ve only mentioned two, but in my experience if you’re going to mention two, there are probably four or five. People always lie to me, I don’t know why, everyone just seems out to get me. It makes things very difficult and lonely. But let’s say I can’t plainly see that you’re a liar, and go with your inferior, lying pretext and say you only have two boyfriends: the long haired cussing Lothario your heart belongs to, but whom your mother hates. And your other boyfriend who is probably some sort of nerd. Bring the both of them and your mother to a dark, quiet room. For best results, have your mother strapped into something wriggle-proof.
Announce: “I will now cut my mother in half!” If you’re reading this as you go, I apologize, I should have mentioned that you needed a sword. Brandish your sword confidently so the two boyfriends know you mean business. Don’t worry about killing your mother, she’s not me and she doesn’t really love you. How could she? My mother never really loved me and if a mother would love anyone, it’d be me. But she didn’t, she didn’t understand me. How do you have two boyfriends and I don’t have any girlfriends by the way? Why doesn’t anyone understand me? How about that? Why don’t you answer that, little girl? I will crush this land with my mighty – sorry. Back to you. Let’s focus on you some more, Little Miss Love Triangle. You make me sick.
So now you’ve got a big sword waving over your head, your mother and the boyfriends are terrified. If they’re not, you’re doing it wrong. There are only three possible scenarios from this point foreword:


1. Neither boyfriend says anything. You make good on your announcement. Then you go on “the lamb.” Which is gangster speak for “Leave town, live with relatives who don’t care who or how many boys you date.

2. Nerd man rolls a twenty sided die and says “No! Don’t do that!” Which is typical nerd speak for “I’m a goddamned nerd” and that guy is just going to grow up and have a better job than me even though I’m clearly cooler than he is. And who the fuck is he to tell me about computers? I spilled soda on my computer by accident, Mr. Nerdlington. I didn’t do it on purpose, even I, the greatest man alive, the shining light of God, makes mistakes sometimes. One time I forgot about my turtle when I went on vacation and when I came back he was gone. Dead. And Sir Prance A-Lot wouldn’t wake up and why wouldn’t he wake up and sometimes I still think about it and my thumb gets pruned from the suckling. No matter how hard I hold my knees and cry, nothing is bringing him back. I told God all about it and he’s not helping matters. But God knows slightly more than me, so I don’t really know what to do and just reading that makes me feel like there’s a stone on my chest and I can’t breathe and why did you make me think of this I will conquer Spain and make them build statues to Sir Prance-a-lot the turtle and then we’ll see who’s sad! Praise Jesus.

3. Long Hair steps forward and says “Fuck that bitch” and slicks back his greasy hair with a barbershop comb. You try to interject but he won’t stop cussing “Fuck you too, and fuck Roy over here. Ain’t that right, Roy? You fucking bitch. Fuck that bitch, fuck this bitch, fuck you, you bitch.” You then realize that Long Hair only actually knows two cuss words “Fuck” and “bitch.” It depresses you to find that, even though he is quite skilled in their use, he is only 11 and only knows two cuss words. You don’t have time for him to spread his wings and find other cuss words to anger your mother with. There are only so many. Life is too short for him to discover and overuse words like “cunt” or “shit for brains.” And so you could use your sword to cut off all his hair and rob him of his cussing abilities before he brings the whole goddamned house down. And you realize that people don’t grow as you want them to, people won’t keep up. And when you start to develop plans to take over your apartment complex later on in life everyone will keep asking you “What’s with all the blueprints?” And you can’t tell them because they could tell the cops and they never believe you when you say that “no jail can hold me!” And they lock you up in one of those jails without any fences and too many pillows and you can’t really figure it out. And goddamn you miss your turtle so much. So much. And I’m sorry for saying goddamn, God. My love for Jesus is so strong that my love of Mr. Prance-a-lot is like hatred by comparison but then again like love when you compare it to my hatred of other people named Linda.

So those are your three options. And I know you’re probably thinking “He didn’t even tell me what to do?” To which I say: Didn’t I? Because I think that I did, and you’re just someone else who doesn’t understand me. Christ how I want some tea. That wasn’t blasphemy, I’m speaking directly to Jesus, my co-pilot. He could probably make me a mean cuppa.
Good luck with your “problem,” shit for brains.

Signed,
Charles S. Dutton
Emperor of Twelve Pines Residences
Cleveland, OH

Breakfast...

More filler.

Breakfast with Jerry, Thomas and Belkin the Conqueror

“Hello, love, what’ll ya have”
“I’ll have eggs over easy, a side of bacon.”
“What kind of toast?”
“Wheat.”

“And for you, sweetie?”
“I’ll have the eggs a la king, a side of home fries and another cup of orange juice.”
“What kind of toast?”
“Rye.”
“You got it.”

“And for you”
“You will bring me the head of Eric the Red!”
“What kind of toast?”
“English muffin!”
“You got it, I’ll be back with your orders.”

Almost there...

I'm still working on the project I mentioned. I was just sort of excited about it and so I threw that post up there as a way to geek out about something I was doing. Just needed a second to go 'holy shit!' I think it's going to turn out pretty damned good and it'll be done soon. But in the meantime, here's something I wrote last night as a way to deal with the people I meet in my adopted city. Let's calllllll ittttt uhhhhmmmmmmmmm Taste? Sure, why not. If you've got anything better, throw it at me and I'll rename.

And the "Andy and Poop" as the lone readers was just a little joke. I'm really happy people are reading and I hope that you're enjoying my little fictional attempts at fiction. So, here's another brief monologue type thing which, until you rename it, will be known as "Taste."


Taste


Look at this guy, Alabethsia. How perfectly suburban. I think he’s actually wearing J. Crew. Can you believe that? I don’t know who let him out of the house looking that way. No style. No style. How could someone live like that? Spending your whole day in beige and khaki. Yes I did wear khakis last week, but I was being ironic. But this guy, he looks like he got beat up by L.L. Bean. Good God.

In Africa, a man studies his feet, and wonders how they got to be so sore. He’d barely walked all afternoon. He thinks maybe it’s time to continue his walk, but then, the day is so sunny and warm. Maybe just another moment here. What a nice day.

Oh, oh, shit, don’t look don’t look, but it’s Amasia from the knitting circle. Remember when she said she liked that bottle of Smith Brandy I brought as a joke! It was only a year and a half old! I said don’t look! Oh shit, hang on, I’ll call you on the phone and then it’ll look like we’re both on the phone so then we won’t have to talk to her. I can’t believe she got another tattoo. And it’s a tribal band! Oh man, remember when people used to get tribal bands! Morons, they’re stuck with those things now. If she was going to get a tattoo she should’ve gotten something colorful, like I just got. I’ll bet it’s not even from Paco’s Parlor. I’ll bet she got it from Lusitania, that goth shop where they don’t clean the needles. Their reds totally suck. Their blues are ok, but their reds are so awful. The reds need more rouge around the edges, it feels like they’re not quite alive, or just recently subdued while the blues have the perfect sadness slash melancholic undertones and it’s...shit, here she is, get your phone.

A single duck walks across a strip of grass and carefully plops into the pond that he likes very much. Quack.

Thank god she left. Was she wearing red lipstick? Did you notice that? Who wears lipstick anymore? I know I’m wearing lipstick but it’s blue. She had red lipstick on and that only works if you’re going for the fifties homemaker look ironically. It’s like she’s from mars or something. Do you want more coffee? This place has good coffee, not great. But the water is good here. Really good water. Yeah, well, the blend here isn’t as pure as at Rococo’s down the street. Rococo’s has an agent they send to the South of France every year, and then he takes off his shoes and walks to Morocco, and then spends the summer hand picking coffee beans, and mailing them back in bundles, each bundle only has enough beans in it for one pot of coffee. So sometimes you have to stand around waiting for the mail. But it’s absolutely worth it, no other place in town makes a cup of coffee like that. If you lined up cups of coffee from every shop in the city, I could pick out Rococo’s in a heartbeat. You can just taste the struggle of it. It has more vibrance, more life to it. Hints of chestnuty aftermath, crossed with just a burgeoning of lemon. It’s really quite something.

Lucy Harris stumbles on the top step of her stairway, but at the last moment grabs the railing and avoids disaster.

The water down there isn’t bottled, though. It’s ridiculous and I hate it. Yeah, I know they serve tap water at Xander’s, but that’s part of the theme. They’re going for the greasy spoon motif, that whole place is basically a living art piece. This place, they must do something to the water, because the aftertaste is much better, it’s crisper, more like snow. I heard that’s what they do, I heard they freeze the water, then shave the ice into a pot, heat it, then serve it over ice and a single mint leaf from South America. You can tell. It makes a huge difference. And if you sip it right after you sip the coffee it really cleanses the palate and you get less aftertaste from each and it’s like a third drink. It’s really hard to do though, I had to practice. Look it up on the internet. No, not wikipedia. I find that website to be very suspect. The originality of the writing is compelling, but the factual information is a little flat. It leaves a person wanting. Maybe it’s just me, maybe you can look at it. I just can’t. I get all of my information elsewhere.

Calvin Denofa accidentally shoots his wife while packing for a hunting trip. She falls.

Cloves? No I don’t smoke cloves anymore. I did for a while, but then I heard about Toves, it’s basically the same but with tofu. So it’s better for you. Yeah, I thought so. It’s one of those things I thought of inventing and then found myself busy elsewhere. Like Ipods. But Ipods are blase anyway, that’s all you see anymore, those little ear buds. I think if it weren’t for the sheer convenience and affordability of ipods, nobody would own them. I got a pair of DJ Brand Ultraphones. They’re like earmuffs, but for music. I wear them with my Delflora Scarf and those really original boots I got from the thrift store on Valencia. I wear them during YoGaPolTis. That’s Yoga Palati’s Pole Dancing and Greco Roman Wrestling. GRW? Oh, it’s been around forever. I’m not sure how long, but it’s very liberating, very refreshing. This guy, Arman Hidelshassen, he’s figured out a way to incorporate all four of them and plays techno the whole time, but the good techno. Like AshRam NeedleTime but not Thatcher Supremeonoid. It’s a workout. What? No, I doubt it, there’s a huge waiting list. I was on it for a year. I sat around waiting for that class for a fucking year. That’s how huge it is. You’ve probably seen me with my YoGaPolTis Mat and Helmet set. I’ve always got them in the front basket of my 1967 Schwin WinnDixie Bicycle, it’s retro. Not old, no. Retro.

A war erupts. There is horrible screaming nearly constantly for a period of months.

I had to stop going there. Yeah, to Gilgamantis. The tree store. They just don’t have any good trees anymore. I hate it. I know, last month. The trees there are just old. No, not retro, just old. They used to be cool, I just can’t really deal with the whole tree thing anymore. Everyone has one, it’s so annoying. Oh, there’s Brad. He’s so great. Look at his tattoos.. Look at his beard. He looks so dirty! He totally hates the war. And Radiohead. And loves Rococo’s. He loves music, except for bands that have been around for more than two years, unless they’re old enough to be on vinyl. And look how ironic his clothes are! A sailor hat! What? No, I don’t know. I’ve never talked to him.

A star explodes and an entire alien civilization is destroyed in an instant.

-----------

And that's the end.

one foot feet

ATTENTION!

Dearest Readers,

It’s depressing to identify the both of you by name, but why not?

Dearest Andy and Poop,

I just spilled coffee everywhere, hang on one second.

Dearest Andy, Poop, and Damp Pants,

There will be a very important update coming shortly. I’ve been working on something and it will be finished in the next few days. I figure if I leave this note it’ll make me finish it. As it is, it’s been taking me hours just to be satisfied with a few paragraphs at a time. Painstaking. Seriously, I worked on it over the last two nights and maybe got through seven paragraphs of text. Slow. Doesn’t matter. Anyhow. Please be aware of this groundshaking development.

Yours in Christ,

The Footed.

A better scene for developing King Kong’s Character in the movie King Kong:

(Setting) The top of a beautiful tropical mountain. The sun is setting. Far below trees wave gently in the wind. The mountain range flows off to the right. The great ape and Anne Darrow sit facing the setting sun, sharing a beautiful moment:

Anne: (Looks at the resting beast after his 3 tyrannosaur battle. He’s wounded and tired. He sits with his hands in his lap just beyond his overfull belly. It rises gently as he breathes. She looks back at the sunset. Then again at the beast.)
Kong: (Kong looks carefully down at her, moving only his eyes. He regards her gently, it’s as though he loves her.)
Anne: It’s Beautiful. Beautiful. You know? (She touches her heart and gestures towards the sun as she attempts to translate the idea of beauty to the beast.)
Kong: (Looks at Anne again. Sighs sharply and scratches his belly.)
Anne: (Touching her heart again, she stares at Kong and says) Beautiful. Beautiful.
Kong: Smashes Anne Darrow with left hand.

Faith First Ministry Presents...

Ladies and gentleman, please join me in welcoming Reverend Jason Michael Payne.


Thank you, thank you. Please... hah. No please, too much. Please sit, be seated. No no no, please. Please sit down. Sit sit sit. Too much, too much. Wow. Well. Hah. Thank you very much, really, that’s very nice. Very nice. You guys are going to be really, very disappointed after that. Haha. No no. I’m kidding.
But really, that’s what we’re here about isn’t it? Ladies and gentlemen, I was disappointed. Yes! I was disappointed! Praise! I was disappointed. I was lost! Yes! Ladies and gentleman, I needed a light. Yes! I neeedeed a liaahhhttt! Are you listening? Say Yes! Yes! Say Yes! Yes! Say Yes! YES! That’s right. That’s right.
I. Jason Michael Payne. Was lost. But ladies?....Gentleman?.....who among us is not lost? Say Yes I was Lost! Yes! Say yes! Yes! Yes. Yes. Yes. I was lost. In a haze of drugs and alcohol. Women and debauchery. Ladies and gentleman, I strip myself bare on this stage for you. I am here to bare it all! At my bottom, ladies and gentleman, I was involved with three different women at one time. I know, I know. It’s shocking. I was using mind altering drugs. I was abusive of alcohol. I was failure of a man, ladies and gentleman. I’m here before you today to admit these problems. I was an abuser. I drank alcohol in excess, ladies and gentlemen. Ah? Say yes for me one time. Yes! I have spent my nights in a horrible grey haze, bouncing from bar to bar. Laughing a drunken, hyena like cackle with the dozy inhabitants of shadowy bars and saloooons. That’s right oooooo! Say yes. Yes.
On these evenings, ladies and gentlemen. I was a lost soul. A lost soul that needed a savin! Ladies and gentlemen, while I waited to be saved, I abused drugs! Say Yes! Yes! That’s right. The allure of strange women offering mind altering substances proved to be to great for this weak man! I followed them. Yes. I did their drugs. Yes. I would wake days later in horrible situations, ladies and gentlemen. You sir? Front row! What is your name?
David? David stand up and be counted! Ladies and gentlemen this is David! David, what brings you here today? Alcohol and women?! For shame David! I want you to feel – David get up on this stage right now! I say right now I Say Yes! YES! Ladies and gentlemen, I want you to applaud this man! Applaud him for accepting this offer! That’s right, David needs the light! Come on over here David, come on! That’s right. David, ladies and gentlemen, ladies and gentlemen, David. Hahha! Yes.
David, I’m going to give you this microphone and I want you to acknowledge who you are to these people of the sky. Go on David, say your peace. Yes. Say Yes, ladies and gentlemen! Yes! Here David, yes!


Uhm. Hello. Uh. Hi. Everybody. My name is David....hah, wow. Hello to you too. Uh, well, like I say, my name is David. Yes, right, hello. Anyway, I’m David and. Right, right, hello. I’m Dav

Skip over, skip over, they like the responses, Say yes! Yes!

Oh, ok. My name– I’m sorry. What was I supposed to say again?

Acknowledge who you are, David. Let the demons free. I want you to say yes David.

Yes. Yes. Well, I acknowledge my alcohol and my women situations. As I should and I –

Say yes! YES! Yell it for us David! Scream to the rooftops!

Yeeeess. And I would just like to say that, my situation may have been unique to me, because, as a portly man, I would often take comfort, respite if you will in –

Yes. Yes. Thank you David. You are a beacon of hope to this community.

Yes. I would just like to add that, while I was, technically, driving that vehicle, I’m not sure where it came from so doesn’t that mean that –

David. David. I want you to say the word Yes with me right now! Can you do that David? Can you do it for the people? Ladies and gentlemen wouldn’t you like to hear him say yes? Lets go, lets count it off for David. 3 - 2 - 1 YES! Be seated David. Please be seated. Yes. Yes. Live and be healed David. Live and be healed! Yes, go on, sit down. I know. Yes. I – sit down, David. Free those Demons. Well done, well done! Ladies and gentlemen a round of applause for David! Yes!
This is what I’m talking about, ladies and gentlemen. We’re all the same. We’re, each of us, disappointed. Lost. In our selves. Yes. In our lives. Yes. In our spirits. Yes. These things, each of us, is made to regret. Is made to suffer. Is made to renounce and yet deify. Yes. Ladies and gentlemen, we are not the sum of our problems. No. Say no. No! We are not a collection of maladies! No! We are not a puzzle to be picked apart! No! We. Are. Not. No! No we are not. Everyone on your feet right now. On your feet. Up up up.
That’s right. Yes. I want you to confirm with me these virtues! I want for you to say with me I am not a collection of problems! I am not a diseased person! I am not a collection of problems! I am not a diseased person! Say no! No! Ladies and gentlemen be seated. Yes. Ladies and gentlemen we are moving forward. Forward. Always forward. There is no going back, ladies and gentlemen, there should be no looking back, ladies and gentlemen. There is no shame in your past, ladies and gentlemen. Not a bit of shame. Say no. No! I want you to clap your hands if you are daunted by alcohol! Clap those hands ladies and gentlemen! That’s right applaud your acknowledgment of this fact! I want you to clap your hands if you have a problem with drugs! That’s right. Clap to the rooftop! To the mountains! I want you clap your hands if you have a problem with sin! Yes, sin! I. Can’t. Hear. You! Yes! Say yes! Yes! Say yes! Yes! Put your hands in the air! Yes! Yes! Say yes! Yes! Say yes! Yes! No shame! Say yes! And ladies and gentlemen, I want you to know that this Friday when I step into the ring with Jerry “The Mauler” Smith, I want you to know that it will be me that has no shame! Say yes! I want you to know that Jerry “The Mauler” will be defeated, say yes with me! Yes! Say yes! Yes!
There will be no turning back when The Mauler enters that ring ladies and gentlemen! Say no! No! Yes! Say yes! Yes! You are a frenzied crowd tonight ladies and gentlemen. Who’s got the microphone? Is it me or is it you? I can barely hear yes! Yes! This Friday night in this very room at this summer’s WrestleFest Two thousand and six! What is it? WrestleFest! When is it? 2006! That’s right! 2006! There will be a frenzy that night too, ladies and gentlemen! Say the word Mauler! Say no! Say no The Mauler!
Ladies and gentlemen with these two hands I will defeat this menace to the United Federation of Wrestlers. He mocks and shames this community say yes. Yes! Why just last weekend ladies and gentlemen, he spit in the face of that young woman Tabitha Nightshade. Directly in front of your eyes, ladies and gentlemen. Say yes. Am, I, Reverend Payne to allow this transgression? Say no. No. Ladies and gentlemen I say no! No!
His villainy shall proceed no further! Our demons here tonight have been exposed, ladies and gentlemen! Who among you has the bravery! The backbone! The conscience! To attend WrestleFest Two thousand and six? Who? Do you David? David says yes! No. No. A seated David says yes! Who is with me and stationary David against this bastion of villany known as The Mauler! Who? If you’re with me say yes! Yes! Say yes! I have overcome my battles with drugs and alcohol and I will overcome The Mauler on Friday night at the Cincinnati Civic Center Arena at what? WrestleFest! When? Two thousand and six! Yes. Say yes! Yes!
On your feet ladies and gentlemen! Put your hands in the air ladies and gentlemen! Say yes! Would you like to see me defeat evil at WrestleFest 2006 Ladies and gentlemen? Say Yes! Yes! Are you ready to see me face my demons, ladies and gentlemen! Say yes! Will I triumph over the Mauler? Say yes! Will Reverend Payne bring the pain? OH you better say yes! Yes! That’s right! This is going to be a special evening ladies and gentlemen! Yes! Say yes! The mauler will kneel before me! He will say his penance! Live and be healed, kneel or be killed! Payne Payne Payne Payne Payne Payne! Ladies and gentlemen, Reverend Payne has spoken!

A few notes on the two below

I went to a writing group. I'm ashamed of myself. I really didn't want to go, but I'm suddenly in San Francisco and I don't know anybody. The lure of boredom and meeting people with similar interests proved to be too powerful and my hatred of 'groups' was destroyed. For exactly one hour.

I went with a friend of mine. His name is Kevin. It was at a place in the Haight called "Cook's Crepes!" or something like that. It was a Crepe joint. I've never eaten a crepe and still havent. I wasn't feeilng good that night, I had the beginnings of a cold, scratchy throat, nose troubles headache. On the ride over to the Crepe place I told my friend Kevin. "I'm probably going to lose my voice at some point." I never did but I came really really close. Doesn't matter.

Anyway, I believe dumb things like "tea will cure me." So I go to the counter at the Crepe joint, which is actually a beautiful little shop. A coffee shop, that sells crepes, that sells beer, that sells tea. I was impressed with the place. Coffee shops are big out here. I'm in one now actually. But there's always a mass of people inhabiting them and mooching the free wireless connections. It was a happening little place that sold crepes and tea. Tea. I need tea.

I go to the counter and I order tea, fully expectinng to be handed a cup with some tea in it, maybe a tea bag. Probably not. Probably just a cup of brown liquid that I foolishly think will cure me of my sickness before I sit down with this writing group so that I may be attentive and interesting and impressed with how wrong I was about the idea of writing groups. I'm given a science experiment by the man behind the counter.

There's a cup. There's a copper kettle. There's a little screening device. There's a weirdo spoon. It takes two fucking trips to cary to my table on the other side of the store. The kettle is steaming and burning my fucking hand. My throat is scratchy and I'm coughing and my eyes are bloodshot and what the fuck is a crepe?

Not happy. I get back to the table and I start to build my little tea pyramid. Cup, screener, spoon thing. I take the copper pot and start pouring the water over the spoon thing, through the screener and into the cup. I'm fuzzy on what happens next. I sort of become transfixed on the screener. The screener is there to catch the little bits of tea that live in the pot. I'm so concentrated on doing this correctly, and making sure the screener catches all the tea, that I overpour the cup and spill tea all over my legs, pants, balls. Tea is hot.

And so, now. Now is when the writing group starts. Directly after I douse my crotch in hot complicated tea. "High everyone, I'm Dan. I spilled tea all over myself just a second ago" I say through a raspy scratchy wheeze of sickness. Mild laughs. There are a eight people at this table. I'm already not happy.

Some guy who I almost imediately decide that I hate starts off. "Hello. I'm Jerry McDouchebag. Welcome. To. The Writing Group!" Not exactly what he said, but he's very proud of himself for organizing a writing group. Which is to say, he's proud of himself for posting something on craigslist and then having people show up as a result. Doesn't matter. "We're going to have a thirty minute free-write" What the fuck is a free-write? Who is shackling your writing? It's a blank page and then you fill it with words, it's not a constricting process. You can do whatever the fuck you want. Watch: Yesterday, when I got done having sex with the Zebra, I went to the bank. I imediately turned into water, and fell into the time stream. I wound up on pluto. A curling iron told an ATM Machine "I like dinosaurs!" Doesnt matter. You can write anything at any time. FREE WRITE? Fuck my fucking head hurts and my throat. "Ok, lets free write"

So I spent a half an hour at a counter in a crepe joint, my balls wet with tea, scribbling with a pen and paper and the following two stories are what came of that. Afterwards people took turns reading what they had been working on, out loud. I hate this. I hate it. "Would you like to read, Dan?" "Absolutely not happening. Move on."

Some guy read a novel he was writing in the second person. It was like being trapped in a who's on first routine. You? Me? no you. Who? You. Not you, you. Me? Yes. Well, kind of you, but not really you, but still you. You. What?

Some other girl had bad tattoos and talked about Sylvia Plath until I almost started to cry.

Some other guy sat at the end of the table and his motto was clearly "I will stare at you until you concede that I am intense!"

It wasn't a good experience. Never ever go to a writing group. Never ever.

And so, for your reading enjoyment. Here are two stories that I wrote in about a half an hour while dabbing at my pants and talking to a guy sitting next to me who had a very tiny computer and was interesting.

OFF

Janet

Janet

Janet jumped out the window on Friday. I was probably the least surprised. Everyone said things like "I would never have thought she could do such a thing!" and "Just goes to show, you can never really know a person."

But I knew she’d do it. I’m amazed more people don’t do it. I blame the air conditioning, personally. IT was probably a lot of things, but the a/c is probably what pushed her over the last hurdle. Probably needed air as much as anything else. You know?

It’s not my place to tell you why she did what she did, but lets just say it wasn’t a woman that made her do it. Oh no. I won’t get into all the details but a guy named Jeff broke her heart, then she got busted for tax evasion and her kid smashed her toe with a hammer on Thursday about 8:45, then th a/c went and that was it. Whoop! Out the window. But it’s not my place to get into the details.

Also her ex-husbands name is Jeffery Charles Burnam, her kid’s name is Emma and the hammer was a Craftsman. But really, talk to the family if you want all the gory details.
Incidentally, she hit the ground traveling 9.8 meters per second squared until such a time that she hit what physicists call "Escape Velocity." Which, by my calculations, was around the 13th floor or so. Then she stopped accelerating. Those pants look good on you, by the way. Are they new? And, so then she hit the sidewalk at 81st and Market Streets.

Oh by the way. They found her nose a block and a half away and it took over two hours to clean up the mess. Two deck brushes. Lots of soap. Do you like these highlights. I can’t tell if I should cut them out or keep them.

Stanley

Stanley.
There’s a mouse in the kitchen. I call him Stanley. Stan leads a far more interesting life than I do. His job is more fulfilling than mine and his girlfriend is prettier. In fact, just that he has a girlfriend is more impressive than anything in my life. My life moves by in the springs of a second while his rolls by in the roar of a train.

We have a small agreement, Stanley and me. If he’s out of the kitchen when I’m eating dinner, I leave him be. If he shows his face while I’m there, I chase after him with my shoe and a licence to smash... It doesn’t much matter, he’s faster and smarter, but we have an agreement, Stanley and me.

I don’t usually leave the bedroom anyway so he’s got the run of the place. He’s free to have his friends over for drinks or his girlfriend for dinner. I only come out if the music is too loud, otherwise I just read till I sleep.

Is that apple pie? I think I smell apple pie! It’s coming up through the vents. He must be having a bake off or some event for his son’s school. Stanley has a son from a previous marriage named Toby. He’s graduating with honors this year. Stanley car has a bumper sticker that reads: "My son is an honor student at James Polk High!" He’s a bright little mouse. Just like his dad.

My son hasn’t called me in months and I ride a bicycle.

Stanley went out with my ex wife for dinner tonight. He’s met her a few times when she dropped off my prescriptions. That Stanley sure is a charmer. He’s a rat. They’re taking my boy and toby to Chuck E Cheeses’. Stanley says he knows someone that works there.

Before they went out, he offered me coffee. He wants to keep up appearances and show good faith. We made an agreement, Stanley and me. He’d have my boy call me after dinner. He said that he’d do it. Stanley’s a rat, but he knows what my boy means to me.

They left around 9 in Doris’ new car. Red and Blue with all leather seating. That was the last I’ve seen them. We had an agreement, Stanley and me.

Tuesday

Things were ok at work today. Lindsey is irritating. I singed some old lady’s hair and she screamed at me. The blow dryer gets too hot too quick. Sometimes hair gets singed, lady. That’s all. Calm down. She looked great when she left but didn’t bother to tip me. She told me to get my eye looked at instead. It’s been a slow month for tips. Gas prices went up again. John is out of work. He’s back with his old friends. It’s been a slow month for tips.
When I got home he was in the recliner asleep. John’s friend Julio was on the love seat asleep. The tv was blaring a court show. Judge somebody. She was a fiery little thing, flailing her arms all over the place and screaming at two gang bangers. How do gang bangers wind up like this? I’ll have to ask Julio when he wakes up. John wouldn’t know.
John got fired from the plant last month, cutbacks he told me. He said he got laid off. Lindsey’s husband works at the plant. She told me and everyone else in the store that John got fired for fighting. Apparently someone named Nick the Forklift Driver was being disrespectful to John and John punched him in the face. They had a fight and they both got fired. I wonder if they were able to find anyone else to run a fork lift? I’m not sure what John did there. I know he started fights, but I don’t know what else. I asked him a few times but he told me to stop.
There’s a gun on the table. It’s silver and it looks heavy. It’s Julio’s gun. John keeps his in his car, in case someone is disrespectful to him in the car. His is black and light. He used to fire it down at the range, but not in a long time. I’d be surprised if it works anymore. Julio’s looks like it works. Heavy with bullets.
I picked up a few things on the way home, just food. Bread and things. I can’t buy junk food anymore, John eats it all day and he’s getting fat. His shirts are getting tight on him, they stick to him. It takes effort for him to get out of the recliner. He’s starting to grunt when he sits up. He’s starting to grunt when he does other things. I’m a hairdresser in a bad part of town and my husband grunts when he gets out of chairs, when he gets into other things. Julio’s gun is on the table, silver and shining.
John is snoring in his chair, Julio might as well be dead. I asked him to stop hanging out with Julio but he got angry and we stopped talking. Julio is trouble. He carries a gun even when he’s just coming to our house. Nothing is going to happen here at our house. Nothing is going to happen but he brings it anyway. He brings it everywhere. John wants to be like Julio I think. Julio steals things from the backs of trucks and sells them to men in garages. He tucks the gun in the waistband of his pants and shakes the hands of other men who have guns in the waistbands of their pants. John keeps his gun in the glove box of his 94 Lincoln. It leaks oil in the garage we share with the old lady upstairs.
John calls her Esther. Her name is Mary. She’s a sweet old woman. Her grand kids come to visit her on the weekend. They play in the hallway and in the stairwell. John hates it, hates kids. I give them suckers I take from the shop. They have bubble gum and baseball cards. They’re precious but mostly they stay upstairs. I spend most weekends listening to them patter above me. Tramping too loud through the hallway and laughing. She’s good about it when John screams, even during the week.
I singed her hair once at the parlor but she didn’t mind. She over tipped. She said she’d tell her daughter to come visit me and she did. I was more careful with the blow dryer. I was careful not to singe her hair. I was very careful, I held it steady and made sure it wouldn’t hurt her. I didn’t want to hurt her, I just wanted to do it right. I wanted to start doing things right. I was careful when I aimed and when I pulled the trigger it was done as quick as I started. He slumped over and was gone.

Transmissions From Space

Transmissions from Space
By Weathy Industrialist, Irwin P. Applebaum

February the First, 2006

Hello my friends. As many of you have heard on the news, I have decided to pay the Russian Space Program 20 million American dollars to fly me to the moon. It’s been a life long dream of mine to conquer space ever since I first heard the words "That’s one small step for man, One giant leap for mankind." I was seven when I first started to really think about my future.
A teacher asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up and I said "An Astronaut." Ever since that moment, I’ve taken steps to ensure that I would one day take steps on the moon. I don’t have time to write, right now. I just wanted to tell you in my own words what was going on.

February the Fourth, 2006

Wheels are in motion. The Russian academy has decided to train me for space travel. The confirmed that the check cleared this morning. I begin the arduous training tomorrow at 6am. They are aware that I failed Space Training when I was in the Air Force. They didn’t seem to mind. I do not know their language.

Feb 18th 2006.

I have spent the better part of two weeks in the Russian training camp. I have excelled at the Javelin, the skeet shoot and Gallaga. Wheels are turning. Big, red, russian space wheels. Though they do seem mildly disinterested in my progress and my failed eye exam.
Upon completing my physical, my doctor looked at me and said "meh." and shrugged his shoulders. I do not know their language. It is proving to be an obstacle.

Feb 19th 2006

I spent the entire day underwater.

The water main in the basement ruptured and we all pitched in to help. Yuri, my spiritual advisor and close companion is a terrific welder and very handy with CPR.

Feb 24th 2006

We launch in four days. I am assured that my time here has been worthwhile. I feel better than I have in years. Yuri bought a Cadillac. He’s very excited. Every time he sees me he erupts into joyous laughter and says "Cadillac" in his thick Russian accent. He is the very best spiritual advisor a fifty year old man could have before being launched into space.

Feb 28th 2006.

We launch in five hours. I couldn’t sleep last night. My dreams are soon to be fulfilled. Space will be amazing. I’m like a child at Christmas.

March the First, 2006:

I am in outer space! The launch went off without too many hitches. I was told with violent shaking and incomprehensible screaming that the aft compartments are off limits due to the raging inferno contained therein. Yuri is dead. I am in space!

March 2nd

I’m still in space. It remains as it has.

3rd

I continue to be in space. I keep bumping into things. Floating is more annoying than you’d think. It’s fun for exactly two hours. I have no idea how my stocks are doing. I would kill for a cigarette. I wonder if the dogs are fed.

4:

Still in this fucking tube. Bored. I just sort of assumed they’d have games or puzzles or something. I keep asking the cosmonauts if they would like to play hide and seek, but they dismiss me and scurry around the ship doing whatever it is that they do. They put out the fire yesterday. They seemed to think it was a big deal. I do not know their language.

Not sure:

I haven’t written in three days. I slept for a lot of it. Today we finally land on the moon! I can’t wait. My earlier enthusiasm has returned!

March 10, 2006

I walked on the moon’s surface and I picked up some moon dirt and I moon bounced around a bit. But that made me moon-sick, so I had to sit down on the moon. But you know what else there is to do on the moon? Nothing. Same as in the stupid ship. Thanks to Bob, for telling me that there would be Skiing. No skiing, Bob. They don’t even have that moon car. Or any outlet stores. This whole trip has been so boring. Oh, one of the cosmonaut’s suits tore on a moon rock and he lost his moon pressure and his head moon popped. So he’s dead.

March the Fifteenth, 2006

Finally back on Earth! We hit some turbulence on the way back. Apparently Ivan had trouble steering it all by himself because the other cosmonaut died on the moon, so he whined about that. We crash landed into the Bay of Biscayne. I don’t know if you know where that is, but I don’t know where that is. Apparently I’m the only survivor. I’d tell you I was fine, but that would be a lie. I’ll be fine when I get back to New York.

What a boring vacation.

If you’re going to take people into space, provide them with something to do. Let a guy go tanning once in a while. They should have told me that all I was going to do was spend 20 million dollars to float around with some Russians. I wanted an Iced Mocha so bad you have no idea. They didn’t even have one coffee machine! On the whole rocket!

I’ll be home soon, I have to go to 3 state funerals before I’m allowed to leave. Snooze City.

Gothic Love: A True Story

Gothic Love: A True Story

Dante is lost in thought, he’s lost in her arms. He thinks to himself: "The world is a black death that only I and snookie wookems wuv muffin understand. Screw you, proletariat! Me and my kitten faced snuggle factory revolt against you, and your machinist overtones!" Then suddenly, from the depths of this morbid reality that he finds himself trapped in, he cries with all the power of the dark lord, "Ooh. Hey, stop that!" His voice clatters in the minarets of this dark and loathsome computer laboratory! His mind reels with anguish! "Oh, I hate it when she tickles me."

Tormented he is! He is lost in the throws of the penultimate torture of ticklery! Forsooth, she be a dark mage of nightmarish measures if ever there was one! "Giggledy Hee! I put a level five dark curse on you, Skeeter!" His curse is clearly deflected by her hell forged chains of malice and steel, which she bought at J.C. Penny for a dollar ninety five. J.C. Penny being the darkest of all outlet superstores. Also, he calls her Skeeter, sometimes. It's something they do. You wouldn’t understand you Commercialized Zombie Nightmare! "Embrace Nothing, my dark princess. And pretend as though I am Nothing! TEE-HEE!" Truly, he is the buddy of Satan!
Then ventures to speak to his love, "You’re pretty cool, Amethyst." He does so with a straight face. He doesn’t want to smile and ruin his lip liner. He lined his lips black today. "The Crow fucking rules." He thinks to himself. Then he says to his torturous love, "The Crow fucking rules." The Crow doth rule, cinema verite at it’s black hearted core!

"Yeah." She says placidly, lest she betray her true emotion, which she has planned to reveal at another, viler time. She plots in her mind about the time of her blood soaked and bone crushing announcement "I soooo want to tell him that, like, I think I love him. I should tell him today, no, like, tomorrow. I should make a MASH about it. Ooooh, my tummy is a butterfly hatchery from heaven!" She thinks, but clearly must have meant "...etc...From HELL!" She is cloaked in dark remorse and prays for rain! "I hope it rains, my Jetta is filthy." Mwahahahah! Avert your eyes, uninitiated worm! She has cast a spell on the skies above you!

Dante pets her thigh as though it were his own. When shall he make his move to steal her away and devour her thigh in a godless ritual? Surely he has decorated his abode in pentagrams, 666 and carved an altar from stone. Surely he has. "If she comes over tonight, I have to hide the Maxims." Surely he means his dark ideology which he has painted on the walls in goats blood! Dark, evil goats blood! "Maybe I should tell her my name is, Jeffery." Jeffery? Ahh, maybe, then, fuck ahh... Jeffery? Uhm. Jeffery backwards is yreffej! Deal with that, conformist! Conform to Yreffej’s evil plot! Kill yourself with rope!

She is purring now, like a witch’s familiar panther. The strong, black cat that she is. She is his hell cat, and he her hell hound, with just two fewer heads than Cerberus, the hell hound who has three heads! She is enjoying the thigh pet and is countering his love magic with a level nine back scratch! Surreptitious back scratch level 9, activate! You are truly in her claws now, Dante. Or Jeffery. Jeffery is now well on his way to being entranced by her bilious, sticky, love magic. Her black army boots are slowly trudging through your dark and hazy soul. "Want to watch Soul Plane tonight?" She asks. Devilish Chicanery! No human would ever subject their eyes to the most horrid film in history! She is clearly attempting to court the devil himself!

"Sure. I’ll bring pop." POP? What the fuck? C’mon man! Ahh, ahhh haha, by uhmm, ok. Ok. Ok. By pop he means the curious murky fluid of Hell’s chalices that is carbonated by human souls, and pop as they reach the surface and foolishly attempt to reach their heaven! Laughable, courageous endeavor though it may be, all who know, know that all pop is flat in helllll. Satan pisses on your enjoyment of sodas.

"Dante?" She asks. A dark twinkle in her eyes, that surely is the harbinger of a dark secret. Will she finally reveal that she is merely a demon monster in human cloaking? Or, perhaps she will get his attention so that she can stab him in his fleshy underbelly with a hidden bone dagger? Of all her collection of daggers, the bone dagger would be most likely to end him in the most painful way! Prepare to die, you who was once known as Dante, but is secretly Jeffery The Hidden!
"Yes, Amethyst?" Oh, be absorbed into her devilish trap, Jeffery The Hidden! Your Health Points are surely to be vanquished with the utmost urgency, by Amethyst’s hell forged blade of bone, which is +2 to hit!

"Uhmm I don’t know how to tell you this. But..." Here we shall learn her dark secret! Prepare to die, Jeffery! You knowest not what Amethyst contains in her black heart! "...Could you call me Amy from now on? My real name is Amy." Oh, what, the, fuck! Amy? Are you serious? You are a black guardian of Satan. A mystical lover of evil schemes! Your name be Amethyst The Dark Crystal of Doom, not Amy The Baker of Cakes, Inhabitant of the Suburbs. This is ridiculous! What happened to all the darkness that swirled about this Computer Laboratory like demons feeding? It has been replaced by Boring White People of Track Housing! Fucking Jerks, I skipped Model UN to narrate this story, and you guys are ruining everything. Shit. I mean, I am Doomulous the Viewer of Lost Souls! Peer with me into my Cauldron of Sight! I will punch you in the face! Kill yourself, it’s the only way to escape my evil gaze!

"All right, but only if you call me Jeffery" ‘The Hidden. Call me Jeffery the Hidden, or you will die by my hand!’

"oh wow, I thought you’d be mad" ‘at my righteous indignation of anger and I will slay you with...’

"No no, I only started dressing like this to meet girls anyway" Slow down, trying to Narrate this back to the original, dark path! ‘Girls made of bones and evil, and you’re certainly not it, because your name is Amy, which is stupid. I divorce myself from this conversation.’

"Oh, well I guess you found one." ‘And now I will end you! I will stab you in the face with a bone and then cast a spell of stabbing! Which is something I invented just now, for I am Amethyst The Dark Crystal of Doom!’

"This computer lab is cozy." Cozy is a word used by wieners! I hate it. He must have meant that, ‘oh I’ll make this computer lab cozy, but igniting it with brimstone, ohh we’ll all cozilly bake in it’s furious heat.’ That’s what he meant! Read into it no more, for I am the Dark Interpreter of Casual Conversation! Doomulous be my name!

"All this leather is chafing, isn’t it?" She asked knowing the boooooring answer already.

"Yeah, don’t tell Damian and those guys, but when I get home, I always take it off and put o this fuzzy robe that my Nanna got for me." Oooh look how un-evil this conversation is, whaaahhh my Nanna or something. Your Nanna is in the pits of fiery hell, Jeffery! I smacked her in the face with a salmon! Strange and horrible tortures have been applied to her visage by me, doer of evil!

"Oh my god, I do the same thing! That’s so funny!" No it isn’t, whore. It’s just not at all. I hope you catch a cold and then sneeze a lot. Fuck, now I’m having a hard time being evil. Fucking conformers are sucking the life out of me.

"And you know how there used to be those days where nobody could find me?" Oh oh oh! This better involve a haunted forest or I am fucking out of here. He’s got an evil, lecherous look in his eye. It seems as though he’s going to reveal that this was all a trick. Yes! A trick worthy of Old Scratch himself, he had just been testing her. He is truly a dark and worthy Goth, and she is as though she is made of shit. She has shit where her brains should be, and therefor he shall call her Shit For Brains and then he’s going to go back to his coven and drink the blood of the young. Right, Dante? Your inferno may yet burn brightly!

"I was at banana republic, I had a part time job there for a while." FAKE. Fake goth! Phony! Everyone understands you and you secretly like football. Ruined my whole goddamned day. I refuse to sit here and Narrate this Jock’s story for one moment longer.

I banish you both into the glowing pink pits of love and happiness. Be forever doomed to walk the earth in reasonably priced, comfortable clothing. I doom you to clear skin, and gender specific make up assignments. I AM DOOMULOUS! I say the future. I read your souls in my black cauldron of bubbly hate! I shall sick spiders on your faces when you least expect it. I am the owner of Shadows, Worshiper of Hate; while your names are Amy and Jeff, the retarded and whom I don’t like very much. Enjoy damnation in the eternal suburbs of quaintness! You hear me? Enjoy conforming, conformists! My leather pants chafe too, you don’t hear me whining about it. You understand me? Why doesn’t anyone understand me? I AM DOOMULOUS! I’m going to go do something else now. I’ll talk to you later. I’ll probably see you in math or whatever.

Faith

I haven't touched Ian and Shane since I came down with the sickness. It'll be done soon. I realize this is the fortieth time I said that. Yesterday I wound up at the coffee shop and this fell out of my head and it's nothing special, just another one of those weird first person monolouges I wind up writing a lot of. I'm going to post it because I don't know what else to do with it, really.

Here goes. Lets call itttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt uhmmmmm?? Faith. Let's call it Faith.

Faith.

"Hooray! It’s time to wake up! Blessed be, the sun is shining. Thank you glorious Savior! Not, saviour! Like those filthy british folk spell it. Savior is splled without the U. Although the YOU is always inside the Savior! He bringeth thee to the table of children!"

That was my morning prayer this morning. I always take whatever I can and offer it up to our Lord and Savior, Jesus. He allows me to rise from my slumber like He rose from the grave, and so every morning I offer Him a prayer. I make them up each day, not every prayer has a script, you know. In the mornings, fresh from my sleep, I just tell Him whatever I have on my mind.
Last night I fell asleep while watching a Bible Picture, it was narrated by a horrible brittish man. His voice irked me. I’m amazed I slept as good as I did. That’s why I had that comment about the British folk in there this morning. That silly accent of his ruined my movie. Jesus didnt talk like that.

I have to go to the market today. I need apples. I go to MostroMart. I love it there. They have just everything you could need. It’s a lovely place.

Yesterday on the bus some sort of horrible man had some sort of horrible music running through the bus. I prayed on the bus. I prayed that he would be smoted for ruining my bus ride. I prayed and just a short five stops later, he got right off that bus, just like I asked Jesus. Jesus, deliver me from the evil of mankind. We know what they do.

I sing in the choir on Sundays. Singing to the Lord is like praying twice, they say. I bet Jesus appreciates my singing. That Helen though, she does play a piano awfully bad. I’ve been praying to Jesus to make her better, but she just hasn’t gotten the hang of it yet. I don’t know why Jesus torments me so. I’m a good person, He should do as I say.

Tomorrow I’m going to make my rounds at the Holy Temple of Faith. It’s a group of people that go around and bless buildings and trees and such. Just whatever we can get our hands on, we bless it. We take a bucket of water and just set to blessing. It’s thrilling. Last week we were out for well over fourteen hours. We were tired, but the Lord doth deliver naps. "And He say unto the wearyish let there be various nappery." John 8:11. I think that’s John 8:11. I hope so. If not, let the Lord edit His life book however He’d like. I certainly don’t care. I mean, I do, I do care. I don't mean to tell the Lord what he should do. Certainly.

I am right and just to walk the earth and bless those who need be blessed. The other day I was walking with The Holy Temple of Faith, just walking around, blessing things. We’ve blessed 80% of the major buildings in the city. We covered everywhere but the diamond district, as that’s where those dirty Jews live. We don’t want to waste good holy water on them. Most it’ll do is burn their flesh. Don’t say anything, but Pastor Bob has been working on a secret batch of holy water so holy that it’ll instantly convert those that touch it. It’s been a pet project of his for some time now, you understand. He’s had it in his basement for months. His biggest concern is that when the Jews come near they’ll smell it for evil and burn his house down.

But the other day we’re out there a-blessin. And we douse a fella right in his face. Lord, deliver us from the unbelievers. You should’ve heard the things that came out of his dark, evil mouth. Do not take the Lords name in vein is one of the commandments, I’m pretty sure it’s high up there on the list too, you understand. We had an emergency meeting around the corner and decided it would be best not to bless anybody in the face. At most we’ll spray the backs of their legs as they walk by. It’s a bonus besides, because then when they sit down, they’ll leave the Lord on the bus or wherever they rest their weary bones. Praise be. Praise be.

Once I got attacked by a bear and I prayed and the Lord delivered me from the bear. He was in my living room and he was on fire. I don’t know how it happened, but there he was coming at me not like a bear, but a bear on fire. I got right down to my knees and started my heart a-prayin. I’ll be darned if that bear didn’t drop over dead just as he was about to get his claws onto me. Thank you Jesus, for lighting that bear on fire and then striking him down at the precise moment that I suggested. You are my light, my protector, my extinguisher of bears.

I had fainted from the horror of it all. My friends found me later that afternoon. Apparently I had made it upstairs before I succummed to the emotion. I was on the floor in the bathroom under my medicine cabinet, which was open somehow. Not sure who opened it, but aparently it was gaping open and their was no trace of that bear. My friends had thought that I had fainted or had an episode or something like that. Thank You, Lord for cleaning up that bear and leaving my friends questions unanswered.

Nobody ever spoke of that incident ever again.

I’m going to the reptile house at the zoo today with the group. The plan is to break into the snake pit, and kill all the snakes. That way, should one of them be the devil, we will conquer all evil in a single stroke. We’re not quite sure how to get past the guards or how to kill all the snakes yet, but I’m sure Pastor Bob has a wealth of ideas.

We’re going to bless our way down this afternoon, smite evil, then bless our way back. It should be a nanny of a hoot. I’m excited. So excited. Oh Lord I’m so excited. It’s. It’s going to be sooo amazing. Too amazing. I’m getting too excited. Calm, Esther, Calm. Down. You understand how excited I get with the thought of smiting evil and doing all the glorious work that God commands me to do. Only upon doing him good shall I be looked upon favorably from the Throne of the Lord. High Praise be. Lord I am yours and you are mine. Do my bidding. Please.

When the devil is quite out of the way, I think it’ll be time for God to mosey on down and take charge. I figure he’ll either come down on a Chariot of Fire, a Chariot of White Light, or a Chariot of Lightning. Pastor Bob caught some of the lesser members of the group gambling on which it would be. Sinful. They were casting lots at the Chariot of the Lord. When the Trumpets sound, we will see where they wind up. My guess is they shatter to ash. Glorious ash. Then it will just be me and Pastor Bob and we’ll walk towards God and then we’ll all bow together. Everyone to God, and then God to me. Together. We’ll all bow together, you understand.

On the Bless Walk today, I’m going to say secret prayers for the rest of the groups deaths to be swift and painless. I know that they’re trying to walk the righteous path, but they’re just not pure souls. No fault of their own. God made them that way. And in His glorious vision, he decided I would learn something valuable in seeing them die in a haze of cinder. Like the time he killed my husband.

My husband died 20 years ago next month. Praise the lord. The lord does giveth and he doth taketh away. Our tiny minds cannot possibly understand how god works. We can’t. But I know that god took my husband because god needed him up in heaven. God needed my husband, and he wanted to teach me a valuable lesson about life. That’s why he took my George from me. I thank him for it every day. I know he thanks me for thanking him. It’s important that he took him from me, and it’s important that I know that god did it so that I could learn from it.

When god took my daughter from me, it was the same way. It’s just important to know that god is teaching me a lesson. Just making me a better person by taking things from me. Things that I had callously loved more than god. My love for others should be like hatred compared to my love of god. And it is. I hate everything.

There’s no way for people to know what God wants, what he is, what he thinks. But it’s important that you understand all of those things. That’s why I go on my daily blessing walks. We need to secure everything for God. All of these things are His, and this is just our way of making sure that He knows that we know that they’re His and we’re only borrowing them until such a time that we can be returned to Him in order to teach someone else a lesson.

And this afternoon when we try to conquer that pit of snakes, I might just do him one better and teach Myself a lesson. I’m going to jump into that pit of snakes. Jump right in. Pastor Bob had an idea for starting a fire down there, but I’m going to take My fight straight to the devil himself. I’m going to dive right down in there. Snakes be damned, praise be to Me. Then Pastor Bob and the rest will learn the lesson that God is eventually going to teach them anyway. Esther was too good for this world and not worthy of the harm that he put on Her. I’m sorry lord. I’m sorry. I will find that devil in that pit of despair and then I’ll see George and my baby again. And I’ll have taught My friends a valuable lesson in doing so, just as you would. Only in death can we see your beautiful message. Only then. First thing this afternoon, you’ll see, you’ll see My message and you’ll see Me. Just tell Me, you understand.

--------------------------------------------

one foot feet

continued

I promised for today, so I'll post what I have so far. I woke up with a very bad cold and I don't really have the energy to finish it out today. It'll be done at a later date. Here's some more Ian and Shane:

Tensions Run High

"Ian."
"Yes, Shane?"
"When should we start?"
"Soon. I’m not sure about how things are going to go from here Shane, I really don’t. And before we get started I want you to know, that whatever happens, I take full responsibility. This is all my fault. I’m so sorry. If things go bad, I want you to know, that you’re a dear friend and I love you very much."
"Ian?"
"Yes, Shane?"
"I want you to know that I know that this is your fault. I knew that already. There was no need for you to tell me that and make me even more angry than I already am. I want you to know that I hate you, with all of me. With every bit of me, I hate you. And – "
"Well fuck you then shane,. I was trying to be good abou–"
"Fuck me? Fuck me? Fuck you, this is all your fault!"
"I KNOW! I just said that!"
"What the fuck good does that do? We know where we stand, you’re an asshole, and you got us killed."
"Well what do you want me to say?"
"I want you to say that you’ve got a way out of this. Tell me you have a rescue on the way. Tell me you have a shotgun. Tell me you can get us out of this. That’s what you should be telling me."
"Well I don’t have a way out of this."
"I know you don’t you’re a fucking idiot. I fucking hate you and we’re going to die. DIE, Ian. We’re going to DIIIIEEEEE. Save your apology for someone who isnt about to DIIIIEEEEE. I don’t fucking care because we’re going to DIIIIIEEEE. Fucking pay the fuck attention! We’re stranded in the middle of nowhere. Enough with the lovefest, get us the fuck out of here."
"You know, it was you who had the fucking heater running all night, you shane. Not me. You. You used up all the gas, AND all the fucking Pelligrino."
"Yeah, I’m glad I did that. Glad, if all goes well you’ll die of thirst and I’ll get to watch. And may I say, that was some of the best Pelligrino I ever had. BEST EVER. Delicious. Almost silky. It was delicious and I’m glad I drank it all and I’m glad you’re going to die."
"I’m glad you’re going to die."
"Not as glad as me."
"That’s right because I’m more glad!"
"I’m the gladdest."
"That’s not even a word!"
"Oh I’m so sorry, Mr. Dictionary it must be the Pelligrino talking!"
"Oh that’s real mature, Shane. Very mature."
"Fuck you, Ian."
"Fuck you, Shane."


"So Are we just going to sit here in silence and wait for death to come knocking at the door?"
"I’m working on a plan, Ian. It’s a solo mission."
"Oh really? A solo mission? Then I guess you wont be needing to stay in the car for much longer then."
"Well, no I do, but –"
"oh no. No no. I insist. Go on your solo mission. Go ahead. No get out. Get the fuck out of my mercedes X60"
"No but I’m not ready yet –"
"You look ready, Shane. You do, you look fit. Go. Go get it done. Go get out of here. GO! GO! GO! Get the fuck out! GO! AAHHHHH!!"
"Stop pushing, Ian. Stop it. Knock it off, stop it. Stop! You’re going to attract them. The whole car is shaking."
"OH I don’t even care anymore. Let them come! I’m ready to die! Ready. Why? Why would you go without me? Why Shane, Why? Don’t leave me here alone Shane. Don’t I cant make it, Shane. Please, shane. PLEASE!"
"Oh Ian. I was only kidding, it’s ok. I wouldnt leave, I wouldnt leave you here. I wouldnt. I promise. It’s ok. Shhhhh. It’s going to be ok. Cmon, pull it together. Don’t cry. I’m here. It’s ok."
"I’m just so frightened Shane. Just affraid. I’m affraid. I’m sorry."
"It’s ok, Ian. It’s ok. We’ll get through this. But now you need to be strong. I need you to be Brave. Ok? We have to think. We can get out of here. But it’s going to be tough. I need to know that you’re up for it."
"AH, sniff, I think, I think I’m ok. I’m sorry. I just lost control for just a second there. I’m sorry. I snapped a little."
"It’s ok. I’m sorry about earlier. There’s a lot of pressure. We’re just exhausted. We need to get home."
"Yes. I think we should work out a plan."
"You’re the plan man, shane. I’m following your lead."
"Really? You’re not going to go solo, then?"
"No. I’m with you. One hundred percent."
"High five?"
"High five.

Another plan.

"I took an inventory."
"Ok. What do we have to work with, Shane?"
"Empty box of Pelligrino. One pair of Denzos. Spare tire. Jack. Wallets containing zero dollars in cash and fourteen credit cards. A pair of keys. One Mercedes, gasless, black, X60, straight six, Fuel injection, turbo –"
"The car. Just say the car. I get it."
"The car. And that looks to be about it."
"Interesting."
"Yes."
"Nothing very useful."
‘Unless."
"Unless?"
"Smoke signals."
"What?"
"We could light the Pelligrino box on fire. We’ll take my jacket and use it to signal for help."
"Could that work?"
"It might."
"All right. I think it’s worth a shot."
"I think you’re right."
"We still have battery life, right?"
"My mercedes? It’s a mercedes, Shane. It could probably power the city."
"All right. Good. I’m going to need you to open the sun roof –"
"Moon roof."
"Moon roof. I’m going to need you to open the moon roof while I get the empty Pelligrino box out of the trunk."
"Ok. But be careful. Be quick. Be quick and be careful."
"I will. All right. On the count of three, pop the trunk."
"One. Two. Three. GO!!"
"Hurry, Shane. They’re everywhere!"
"I got it, I got it!"
"Quick, close the door. Quick.. Quick. Quick."
"Done. Done. Oh man. I got it. I got it. We’re fine. I don’t think any black –
"African Americans"
"African Americans. I don’t think any saw me. African Americans."
"African Americans."
"All right. So now we have to light this on fire. Moon roof?"
"Check."
"Coat?"
"Check."
"Heh. Coat check. Remember that time we went to Spino’s for dinner and that Coat Check girl –"
"Later Shane. Focus."
"Right."
"All right. This thing has a lighter right?"
"Shane, this ‘Thing’ is a Mercedes X60. There’s probably a blow torch in here, or one of those laser saws. Stop asking ridiculous questions of my Mercedes X60. It’s like you don’t even know where you are."
"All right. I get it. It’s a nice car. Let’s move on shall we?"
"Let’s shall."
"Oh Ian. Ian we’re in luck! Look, up in the sky!"
"What,.where?"
"It’s a traffic helicopter! Hit the lighter."
"All right. Here we go."
"All right......."
"It takes a second. Warms up."
"Laser saw, he says. How long does–"
Ping! "There. Here here you do it."
"All right. Just have to get it going."
"Start at one of the edges. There you go.Hold it upside down so it catches."
"Here it goes. Here it goes. Beautiful. I’ll tell you, nothing burns like a high class box."
"No sir. That’s german engineering for you."
"All right, Get my coat. Get my coat!"
"How do I–"
"Just waft it. Waft."
"All right. S"
"O"
"S"
"Did we do that right?"
"I don’t know morse code"
"Me neither. They’ll get the idea, I think."
"I hope so. Shane watch it. Watch the edges."
"I am, Ian. I know how to burn a box. It’s –"
"Shane! The edge dropped off. It’s melting my apolstery!"
"It’ll be fine. I’ll buy you more."
"Shane! Shane watch the roof."
"It’s burning too well, Ian. Waft, Ian, waft for all you’re worth!"
"I’m wafting. I’m wafting!"
"Watch my coat, Ian!"
"Fuck! It caught!"
"That’s my fucking coat, Ian!"
"Ah ah ah ah. Hot hot hot hot."
"What are you doing?"
"It was burning my hand."
"Why would you throw it in the back seat?"
"My fucking hand was hot. Watch the roof"
"Oh jesus Ian. The roof. It caught. Shit"
"Shit shit shit shit shit."
"Ian the car is on fire. It’s on fire. What do we do?"
"Waft?"
"No! No more wafting! Fuck. Fuck. Get out Ian get out!"
"Out of the car? "
"Ian, get out of the BURNING CAR."
"It’s a mercedes X60!"
"What?? It’s a fucking fireball, Ian! Get the fuck out! Out. Now. Go go go."
"Oh jesus, Shane. Are you ok. Did you get burned?"
"No I’m fine. I’m fine. You?"
"I’m ok. My fucking car!"
"Fuck the car, look!"
"Oh my god, they’re everywhere, Shane."
"They’re coming towards us Ian."
"They’re attracted to the flames. Like moths Shane. They’re Moths!"
"THEY’RE AFRICAN AMERICANS"
"AFRICAN AMERICANS, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!"
"Oh jesus. Oh sweet jesus. They’re too close. They’re too many of them, Ian."
"Shane, hand me that stick."
"Wh-"
"Just do it, Shane."
"Ian, I–"
"I’m lighting it on fire, Shane."
Black guy: "oh my god, are you guys ok"
"Back you savages! Back!"
"Shane, what the fuck are you doing."
"Ian! Save yourself. Run Ian, Run! Back, savages. Get back!"
Black guy: "Stop swinging that stick around, you’re going to hurt somebody –"
Shane: "Get back you savage! Get away! Back! Ian! Ian! Go, run! Save yourself!"
Ian: "I won’t leave you"
Shane: I"m not giving you any choice. You have to go. Save yourself."
Ian: "I’ll never forget you Shane!"
Shane: "Go, now. Go. Please Ian. I cant keep them back much longer."
Black guy: "What are you doing? Get away from the fire, you crazy bastard."
Shane: "You stop talking voodoo! Ian Run!"
Ian: Run?
Shane: Run.

Ian’s escape!

Through the parking lot, get away from the crowd. Get away.

"back. Get back, savages."

Block him out of your head, he’ll be fine. He’s smart. He’ll get out of this. You’re on your own now, Ian. You just killed your best friend. Stop it. Stop thinking like that. There’s no time for that. He’s gone now. Save yourself now. Think clearly. You killed him he’s dead. No! No! No!
There. If I cut through the Kinda-Save's parking lot. Buy a Kinda-Save someday. I can go from the parking lot up to the overpass. I can flag someone down. I can hitch a ride and he’s dead and I killed him and he’s gone and I killed him I can get through this. I can get through this. How did I not realize that starting a fire in the car would be a bad idea. Overpass. Get to the overpass.
Run. Run. Remember your breathing. One foot in front of the other. Go go go.

Ian arrives at Shane’s house.

"Shelly is supposed to be here. She’ll want to know that her boyfriend is dead. And that I killed him. I killed him. I’m so sorry, Shane. I’m sorry. SHELLY? SHELLY ARE YOU HERE?"
"Shane?"
"No. Not Shane. Ian."
"Oh Ian. Where’s Shane, he never came home last night we were supposed to watch a movie. And what’s happened to your clothes. You look awful"
"He’s. Oh jeusus, Shelly. He’s dead."
"What? What do you mean he’s dead."
"We went to go meet an African American and –"
"Why on earth would you do that?"
"We didnt have anything else to do, but listen –"
"he’s not dead, what do you mean he’s dead?"
"He’s dead. We were surrounded by black people and the car caught fire, and he fought them off, he bought me time so I could get away. He’s a hero. He’s dead and it’s all my fault."
"Oh my god, Ian. You bastard. You bastard, Ian!"
"I’m sorry Shelly. I’m sorry. They were everywhere and I – Oh say, do you have any Pelligrino."
"You bas– Pelligrino? Oh, of course."
"Oh boy am I thirsty."
"I’ll bet. Let’s get you some water."
"So Shane’s dead then?"
"From what I gather."
"Hmph."
"Yeah. Good Peligrino. Thank you."
"Oh sure. I mean it’s not mine, but..."
"Best not to think of it. For now let’s just say that it’s our Peligrino."
"Yes. Ours. I think he wouldve wanted it that way."
"I think so."
"Is this couch Morrocan? It’s nice. Got a bit of a sheen to it."
"I think so. It’s a good couch. Are those Denzos?"
"No. Shane had a pair for me here though. I’ll have to find them."
"Oh yeah, root through everything. I don’t mind"
"Ahhh."
"Yeah."
"I’m bored."
"Me too. Want to have sex?"
"Yeah. I think that’d be best."

After.

"So I figure we should set up some sort of scolarship fund, or tribute to Shane."
"Who?"
"Shane, that guy I left for dead. We’re in his bed."
"Oh right. Right. Yeah, I mean whatever. Do what you want. I’m going to go hit the gym."
"Great. I’ll see what I can do with that."
"Can I have some money?"
"For what?"
"Just because. I would like some, please."
"Oh, yeah. My wallets on fire at the moment, but Shane probably has some money lying around. Go dig around."
"Oh, ok. Do you need anything from out?"
"No. I’m going to set up that scolarship fund, maybe throw a memorial in a few hours. You want to go?"
"No. I’ve got Yoga, and then I’m getting my toes done."
"Oh. All right. I’ll see you later then."
"You going to be here all day?"
"I hope not. I don’t think a memorial will take that long. I’m going to try to wrap up by three so I can get home and get a new car. I’ve got golf in the morning besides."
"Oh."
"Right."
"So."
"I’ll see you later."
"No money, right."
"Not on me, no."
"ok then. I gotta go get a latte before yoga."
"Bye."
"Bye."

The memorial service.

-----------------------------

Still more to come. As I said, too sick to work on it right now, the hottest girl I ever saw just walked by holy shit. It should be finished in the next few days. Once I heal. A lot of what's been written so far will be removed and such.

I'm going to go drink more tea and then maybe have some soup and watch a movie. Let me know what you think.

place holder

Ian and Shane was largely finished yesterday. I've got a few pages left and I'll post it. Then I'll edit it and repost it. I sorta hit a snag. Endings are hard for me, I get attached and I suck at feeling satisfied with conclusions. I don't really know why I'm writing this right now as I'm fairly sure nobody is checking this with wild abandon or even any regularity.

I'm hoping to finish up the writing tonight. Then maybe edit it tonight also. And then I'm going to start from the bottom of this page and work my way up on finishing everything. I believe that Sherpa is next in line. Then I'm going start posting pages of something else I've been working on that I like very much and is different from everything here. More serious. A little sad.

Also worth noting is that at the moment I smell pretty awful.

My feet are seriously One Foot Long,

One Foot Feet

Finishing up "Horror"

So the other day I wound up talking about horror movies with someone and I realize I never wrote the reason why I started writing "The Greatest Horror Story of All Time."

I figure I'll take some time I have at the moment to write the end, and completely avoid the middle section of the story all together because I don't feel like writing the middle, and this was really all I wanted to say in the first place. So here it is, the end of the "Greatest Horror Story of All Time."

Also, please excuse any glaring spelling errors. I wrote this in an email. There's no word on this computer.


The lights are still out. Thunder roars overhead magnified by the hollow echo of Laura's vast cottage. Rugged Dave, Selpathe and Laura sit huddled in the darkness watching home movies of the recently departed Henry David Thoreau in Laura's planetarium.

Giant pictures of Henry David Thoreau dance on the ceiling. Pictures of Henry David Thoreau doing crunches, studying String Theory, and skeet shotting. You know, kid stuff.

The trio is just getting to Henry David Thoreau's opera training, they are being washed over with his beautiful 8 year old voice. Rugged Dave has a hand on Laura's thigh. It's been slowly creeping upwards. Laura is crying loudly and pushing his hand back down. Selpthe wearing her goggles and doing a rubix cube.

Rugged Dave is getting increasingly angry that he will not be getting laid this evening. "Fucking kid dies and my dick stays dry." He thinks. He then remarks to himself that he should put that on a T-shirt. "Fucking millionare." He says outloud.

"What did you say?" Asks Laura.
"Nothing. Forget it. Watch the movie." Say's Rugged Dave, secretly wishing he had said something funnier and thus justifying two lines of dialog that don't need to exist.

The group is nearing the 3D section of the movie. They ready their 3D glasses and Selpthe sets aside her rubix cube and silently resigns to peel the stickers off later, making the cube inky black and complete in it's inky blackness. "NOW WHO'S STUPID!" She screams at the puzzle.

Selpth removes her night vision goggles and relplaces them with her 3D glasses. The scene that Laura had made into a 3D masterpeice is one in which he is having a baseball toss with Rugged Dave. Rugged Dave is hurling mighty fastballs to young Henry David Thoreau. Rugged Dave is clocking himself at about 94 mph. Henry David Thoreau is swaddled in catchers equipment and is taking fastball after fastball to the midsection, his 8 year old reflexes not quite up to the task of actually catching the ball.

Laura selected this, for it combines her two favorite people and the spectacle of having a 94 mile hour fastball virtually whizzing by your head every four or five seconds. Even now, in the midst of this horrible sadness it draws Oohs and Aahs from the three.

"I'm going with the changeup, little buddy." Says the three dimensional image of Rugged Dave.
"Yes sir. I am preparing my synapses for a lapse of judgement made by the contrast of the quick movement of your arm, vs the relatively slow aproach of the ball. All is in readiness." Says the little scamp.
"Here goes" Says Rugged Dave.
"Whamp!" Says the chest plate of Henry David Thoreau
"OOOOHHHH AHHHHHH" Says Laura, Rugged Dave and Selpthe
"Sleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeessssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" Says an unidentified source

"What was that unidentified source?" Cried Rugged Dave, quickly removing his 3D glasses.
"SHhh" says laura, you're missing the best part

A three dimensional Rugged Dave is standing over the limp carcass of a three dimensional Henry David Thoreau. "Always think fastball, kid. Just because I say I'm going with the changeup doesnt mean I'm throwing the changeup. Last second changes are the name of the game. You get some ice on that you'll be fine."

"Tricked indeed, says I. My broken sternum is testament to that! Quite a ruse, Rugged Dave, quite a ruse, indeed! I must go tend to my wounds. Selpthe, ready my laboratory." He even says laboratory like "Lah boor ah tooree" I want to pinch his cheeks! Henry David Thoreau!

They all share in a deep belly laugh over the funny Rugged Dave joke. Change up? Rugged Dave doesnt throw Change ups. He throws nothing but heat all day long. All Heat All the Time! Never fucking forget that.

"SLllleeeeeeeeeeeeeeshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" says the unidentified source.
"I don't like that unidentified source." says Rugged Dave.
"It's probably nothing." Says Laura. It's probably a good time to mention that Laura was kicked in the face by a horse when she was a small child and never quite recovered her sense of danger. Much like I, your author, pines for a big breasted woman who was born without the use of her inhibitions, Laura lost her sense of danger at a young age. Hence all the brownies all the time, she's constantly making with the brownies. While this is impossible, one dares to dream, and since this is a horror movie, you're going to have to let some reality slip away even though that noise is fucking scary and even typing it as my asshole tight, she's fine. Get me? Fine. Don't fucking argue. Eat your fucking popcorn.

"It's probably just the Air Conditioning." Says Laura

"You're probably right" says Rugged Dave. It's probably a good time to mention that Rugged Dave once dated a ram. As such, he had to fend off other male rams who were bidding for his love's attention. Rams do this by butting horns at impossibly high speeds and impacts. Rugged Dave is rugged and did it with a trucker hat and a belly full of Shlitz. During this courtship ritual Dave's better judgement collapsed like a dwarf star and is now incredibly gullible to almost any suggestion made by women in a planetariums. We all have our crosses to bear, this was his.

"PUNCH YOUR OWN FACE!" screamed Selpthe.
Dave punched himself in the face, thereby proving a ridiculous point. Thank you Selpthe.
"WELCOME!" Screamed Selpthe at nobody in particular.

"Sllllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeesssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhh"

The planetariums 3D display was nearing an end and was currently displaying young Henry David Thoreau in a bath tub. He was rubbing at his chest which had several baseball shaped welts on it. He was delicatly dabbing at his wounds with a pink washcloth. When he realized his mother was taping from the doorway behind him, he quickly threw the washcloth at the camera which elicited one last "OOOHHHH" From the 3 person audience.

The screen went dark and the lights started to come up when Selpthe Screamed. "NOT DONE!" Laura was confused, she swore that was the end of it. The washcloth was wet and damaged the camera and she hadnt gotten another one down from her Digital Camcorder Closet yet. Afterall it was up on the fourteenth floor, and who's got the time to wait for the elevator?

But Selpthe insisted "LOOK!" and pointed at the ceiling, still wearing her 3D glasses. She remained seated and stared intently while peeling her rubix cube.

Rugged Dave and Laura looked skywards as the dark ceiling became illuminated with a faint green tint and "SLEEEESSHHHHHHHH" was heard again, this time much louder. The sound was coming from the cieling! More precicely, it was coming from the Air Conditioning duct!

"I told you, it was just the Air Conditioning" said Laura "Now let's go to bed after I make some brownies."
"You got it."
"I SAID LOOK" said Selpthe.
Rugged Dave's new orders came in and so he did, he looked towards the Air Conditioning vent. Suddenly the green tint grew brighter. Almost hard to look at. "OOOOHHHHH" Screamed Selpthe still wearing her 3D glasses.

The green tint suddenly shut off. And water gushed out of the vent. Impossible amounts of water. "I Guess the condenser went" said Laura, demonstrating surprising knowledge of her Air Conditioning system.

Water was pouring out. Gushing. The floor was now two inches deep with water when suddenly a black form flushed out of the vent and flopped on the floor in a formless heap. "AHHHH!"

The black form started to shift. Slow side to side movements, then it slowly took a stronger shape, and stood tall. It was a boy! He was facing the other way and was covered in small gashes. Small cuts bleeding rivulets of blood. He was soaked, only wearing black shorts and carying one weighted ring!

He turned slowly, the cuts were worse on the front of him. The blood was turning the waters red. It was Henry David Thoreau!"

"Henry David Thoreau!" Shouted Laura, full of surprise! "You're alive."

"Not quite, mother. Not quite." His eyes were cast downward allowing the shadows to fill his deep set eyes. His eight year old frame bleeding steadilly. "I've come for you, Rugged Dave. I've come for you."

"Fuck you." said Rugged Dave.

"You killed me, Rugged Dave. I'm here to return the favor." His dialog now trite and contrived because we're nearing the end.

"Did not."
"Did too."
"Did not."
"Did too."
"Did not."
"Did too." This went on for practically an hour because Henry David Thoreau is eight years old, and Rugged Dave didnt know what else to say.

"ENOUGH!" screamed Laura.
"OOOOHH AHHHHHH" said Selpthe

"He killed me with the weighted rings. The underwater fun game. They're 100 pounds. He threw them in, I caught one as it was floating towards the bottom, and it dragged me down to the the bottom of the very deep end where the pressure eventually killed me." Dialog is so quick and unlike the character now because he's dead! Why is he so different? Who knows?!

"The pressure! That explains the cuts!" Said Laura
"No." Said Henry David Thoreau "The cuts are from crawling through the Air Conditioning Ducts, they're full of metal screws. When air ducts are installed, screws are used to keep them in place. Hundreds of screws. Thus making travelling through them completely impossible and foolish. It's how they're built. So it never makes sense. Not ever." So precise! "But enough of the exact construction of air ducts and a giant plot hole, I'm here for you Rugged Dave. I'm taking you with me. " As Henry David Thoreau finished this line, he gestured behind him with a rubbery dead arm. A green portal opened behind him at his gesture. "OOOOOHHHHH!" said Selpthe

Screams poured out of it. Loud, haunting screams. "They're the dead. Like me. Like you. Come, David. Now is the time of your undoing." Suddenly he's back to how he used to talk, he talked normally just for the brief moments of exposition, and then he's back to his scampish, impish self. Someone get that sweetheart a taffy!

Henry David Thoreau pulled his right arm from behind his back revealing a scythe-ish curved blade. It was brown and chipped. It's as though the shape and condition of it made the threat of getting stabbed even more scary, even though gettting stabbed is getting stabbed and really, the asthetics of getting stabbed dont really result in your being more or less hurt. You get stabbed in the belly with one of those shoe cutting knives, it'll kill you and if you get stabbed in the belly with a rolling pin, it'll kill you. Same thing.

Henry David Thoreau held his weirdo knife at his side. He turned the blade over in his hand, cocked his wrist, so the blade was pointing directly to the right. The blade glinted faintly in the green light, he twisted it to add to this affect. Green. Brown. Green. Brown. Flashing terror in the eyes of Rugged Dave who advanced from the outer ring of the planetarium.

"I say, David, I always assumed your undoing would be in the planetarium. It fits." Said Henry David Thoreau, even though there was no clear way that it fit. He and Rugged Dave circled each other in the glow of Henry David Thoreau's mystical portal. They were close now, circling like lions, or rams. Rams is funnier. "Ever since that day you pelted me with those leather orbs, I've dreamt of this moment. Except, I wasnt dead in my dreams. But I was gutting you just the same. Like a fish. But now I'm dead, but, you get the idea, right? Me knife, you gutted. Now is the winter of our discontent, Mr. Dave. The Bell Tolls for Thee, Rugged fool! This is the Dawning of the Age of Aquarius, louse! It was the Best of Times for me, it is the Worst of Times for you, Rugged Dave! HAVE AT YOU!"

Henry David Thoreau lunged with all his might! He quickly closed the gap between himself and Rugged Dave, his knife held high in the air, screaming like a mad man he came in for the killing stroke!

"AHHHHHH" said Selpthe

Rugged Dave threw a Left Cross and crushed the face of Henry David Thoreau. The potal immediatly closed and Henry David Thoreau lay on the floor in a heap, holding his 8 year old face and crying. Henry David Thoreau begged for mercy, but Rugged Dave would have none of it. "Please sir, I was just kidding. With the portal and the death and the scythe and everything. I'm only 8."

Rugged Dave picked up Henry David Thoreau and walked him out of the planetarium. He carried him across the hallway and threw him straight throughthe 8th floor window. "Rugged Dave always throws the heat. Bitch." Said Rugged Dave. Mustering the corniest, barely relateable line he could think of. But remember I told you to remember that he always threw the heat? Huh? I did, because I needed to have some very obvious foreshaddowing. Actually, I needed something where people could say "Ohhhh right that's just like what he said before" even though there's no possible way you could take "Always throws the heat" and transform it into "OHhhhh, he's going to throw him out a window. See, because heat. He always THROWS it. Henry David Thoreau? He THOREAUS the Heat. You see? Fucking obvious, I knew the whole time. This movie is bullshit, when I get home I'm going to write a story about how stupid horror movies are and how fucking awesome I am."

Rugged Dave lit a cigarette and shaddow boxed for a moment. "FUcking 8 year old kid." He mused to himself. His words slight, but wise. If an eight year old kid is tormenting you and your family, punch him in the face. Throwing him out a window was a bit much, but really, just punch the little bastard in the face. You win. Instantly. Even if you're built like a dandilion and wearing a T-Shirt that says "Hopeless Romantic," take a swing. You'll win because he's 8 years old and his scull still mostly mush.

Laura aproached the window with caution because of the lengthy, underly stylized expository paragraph that just took place. "Do you think he's dead?" As she looked outside into the rain, down on the mangled carcass of her son lying dead on the pavement just north of the topiary maze.

"I don't know, baby. I don't know that we'll ever know. But yes he's dead. I threw him out the window after he caught the left cross." Said Rugged Dave. From that day forward Rugged Dave called his Left Cross "The Widow Maker" because he thought it sounded cool, and didnt know what the word Widdow meant.

Laura quit her job at the Media Company and began working at a miniature golf course to be near children. She brings home well over six figures a year.

Selpthe never did finish that rubix cube. She gave up after all the excitement and went back to her first love, Umpiring for the Milwaukee Brewers.

"THE END??"

THE END, Selpthe. The End.

More Ian and Shane, Subject to Editing

I'm probably going to trim this down a bit and make a few other changes, but I'm in the home stretch of writing it now. I havent touched it since my last post. I just spent a little time with it today flushing out the story. I'm not sure how it ends yet, I'll be doing that soon.

Ian and Shane continued

“I knew you'd feel a little high after the first time. I know I did.”
“Woozy. It's not a good feeling really. More sickish than high. High is more fun.”
“Really? Do you want some water or something?”
“Do you have some water?”
“I keep Pellegrino in the trunk.”
“Good thinking. I think I'll have one of those.”
“Pellegrino is undoubtedly the best water on the water market today.”
“I agree. Is there a water market?”
“I think so. There should be if there isn't.”
“Could we make a water market?”
“Do you mean make a building where we sell water, or establish a financial institution based on following water trends?”
“Either or.”
“I don't see why we couldn't. But we should keep on with your black people training.”
“I think we've done enough for today. For forever for that matter. My eyes aren't fully adjusted after looking at him. I'm seeing black splotches everywhere.”
“No, there are a lot of black people behind me. Don't call black people splotches, Shane.”
“I wasn't. I just thought it was an after affect. And what did I tell you about calling black people black people. African Americans please, Ian.”
“Sorry, Shane.”
“So those are all real blacked people then?”
“Yes. Which brings me to our current problem. I'm not really sure what to do at this point.”
“What do you mean, oh keeper of the plan?”
“Well, we seem to be surrounded. I'm not sure that I can get us out of here.”
“Christ. You don't think they'll let us leave?”
“I'm not sure, Shane. There's probably some sort of tariff, or barter system just to get out of the parking lot.”
“They probably don't own the parking lot, the parking lot belongs to Denny.”
“Maybe, but in effect all Denny's belong to them. None of our friends have ever been in a Denny's. I don't even know if that's how you pronounce it. It might be Den-ays. Like that clever woman from 227.”
“Good show.”
“I thought so.”
“But if what you're saying is true, then how do we get back to Landville?”
“I'm not sure exactly, you kind of ruined everything.”
“What do you mean? Why? Because I passed out because you hit the horn even though you didn't tell me it was a part of your plan that you invented to meet black people even though I didn't want to?”
“No. You're wearing a blue shirt, and I saw a movie once on A&E that said blue angers them.”
“The color blue angers black peop -- African Americans?”
“That's what I'm told, Blue and Red. I'm not sure about it, probably something to do with Rods. Or maybe even Cones.”
“Rods and Cones?”
“Cells that make up the eyeball, different A&E show. But apparently in black people they're curved incorrectly. Leading to Rod's and Consey's or something. It's a disease. It makes them mad at colors.”
“There's no way that's true.”
“Are you going to argue with A&E?”
“No, but even Peter Graves is wrong from ti-“
“C'mon man.”
“No. I really think you're wrong.”
“Not a chance, and even if I am, do you really want to get them all mad at you?”
“No, but -“
“Then why would you risk it, Shane?”
“Alright, we should probably work out another plan. I need to get home. Shelly wants to watch a movie tonight.”
“Which movie?”
“Probably some artsy nonsense.”
“She's a whore, you know.”
“Fuck you, Ian, not right now.”
“Car?”
“Car.”

Back in the car

“This whole day has gone to shit, Ian.”
“I know that, Shane.”
“What happens if they don't let us leave?”
“I'm not sure. We might have to live in the car, and there is only so much Pellegrino.”
“Can we send for help?”
”I don't know. Our cell phones are useless out here. They don't have the same technology. I don't think so anyway.”
”Damn. Maybe we can tie a note to a pigeon.”
“If you gave me your house I wouldn't touch a pigeon, Shane.”
“Yeah, you're probably right.”
“Oh shit.”
“What?”
“Look over there.”
“Is that a white guy?”
“I think it is.”
“Do we know him?”
“Probably. But he's on the other side of the parking lot and I don't think it's safe to move just yet.”
“Ian?”
“Yes, Shane.”
“I'm a little frightened.”
“Me too, Shane.”
“Ian?”
“Yes, Shane.”
“What if…”
“What is it, Shane, you can tell me.”
“What if we….catch black.”
“Don't you ever say that! That's impossible. That can't happen. It's been proven in laboratories. It's an old whites tale and I want you to get it out of your head, we're going to be fine! Just fine, Ok? I want you to say it!”
“We're going to be just fine!”
“Stop crying, idiot. You're going to attract them, they can smell fear.”
“They can?”
“Yes, like jungle cats.”
“Oh.”
“Alright, c'mon, pull it together. Let's think.”
“What do we have that we can use to barter with?”
”Pellegrino. I've got shoes on.”
“Pellegrino needs to stay, if we're stuck somewhere else we could die right here in this Mercedes. And your shoes? C'mon Shane, think clearly. How would you get in your house from the car?”
“I could have Ilsa bring me out a pair of Denzos from my bedroom.”
“Denzos? When did you get Denzos?”
“Oh, I didn't tell you. I brought a few pair home from Italy last month, beautiful shoes. Smell like sun dried apricots somehow.”
“No kidding, I've always wanted a pair of those. Awfully expensive though, three large for a pair.”
“It's worth it, 3000 is a small price to pay for your feet smelling like sun dried apricots every day.”
“I do like a good apricot.”
“I know that you do. Which is why I brought a pair back for you!”
“Oh man, Shane! You didn't!”
“I did, I was going to wait until your birthday to tell you, but now it seems like we're going to die here, stranded in your Mercedes in this jungle of black --- African American people.'
“African American.”
“African American.”
“I appreciate the shoes, Shane. Hopefully I'll see them one day.”
“I hope so too, Ian.”
“What time is it?”
“630.”
”We've been stranded here for 3 hours. There's no end in sight, Shane. We have nothing to barter with -- ”
“If only we had a chicken.”
“-- So we're probably going to die. I haven't had a latte since breakfast.”
“You didn't have a lunch latte?”
“No, I skipped it, I was feeling a little jittery from my morning latte/Jog.”
“Jogging is great.”
“Nothing like jogging with a latte. Maybe, champagne with yoga.”
“Really any type of drink with exercise is good. Or even Fresh Squeezed Orange Juice and free time is good. A bit less sophisticated, but it feels just as nice. Just a cool drink and free time.”
“I agree. But we're very far off the subject. We really have two options right now.”
“Which are?”
“Which are, we make a run for it, or we can sit here and wait for help to arrive.”
“How would help know to arrive? Nobody knows where we are, Ian!”
“Fuck. OH no. Not fuck! I've got it.”
“What, Ian, what?”
“I've got OnStar!”
“Ian, you lovely man. Hit it, let them know we're in trouble.”
“Here goes!”
“OnStar, this is Cynthia speaking.”
“HEEELLLP”
“HELLLPPBE”
“Sirs, calm down, tell OnStar what's the matter.”
“Shhh, Shane, I've got it. Hello, OnStar, My colleague and I seem to be trapped in my Mercedes.”
“If the doors are locked, I can open them from here, but it would make more sense for you to just hit the un-lock button which is on your arm rest.”
“No no, OnStar, the doors are locked on purpose, we need a rescue squadron. Maybe call my country club, or Jerry on 9th street, he's my jeweler, he'll know what to do.”
“I'm afraid I don't understand sir.”
”WE'RE TRAPPED IN A SEA OF BLA-AFRICAN AMERICANS AND WE DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO!”
“Shane! I said I would handle this. Please, drink your Pellegrino. My friend is a little jittery, it's getting cabin feverish in here. We've been stuck in the car for almost four hours now.”
“I'm sorry sir, I'm not hearing the problem, are you out of gas, do you have a flat tire, is the engine dead?”
”Is the engine dead? Are you retarded? I said I'm trapped in a Mercedes. The engine doesn't die in a Mercedes, at most it ages, like fine wine or your better cheeses. Besides I'll have a new one before a fourth digit on the odometer pops up.”
“You hate four digits, Ian.”
“I do, Shane. It's the year 2k5, we can stop with all the numbers by now, I think.”
“I agree, tired things. Old fashioned. I don't have any twigs to count in my cave, professor old guy.”
“Sirs, Cynthia here -“
“Who the fuck is Cynthia, why are you in my roof?”
“OnStar, I'm OnStar.”
“Oh, OnStar. Someone named Cynthia just hijacked your frequency and -“
“Sir, if there's nothing else I can do for you, I've got other people to help with real problems.”
“NO! I paid good money for this phone! You help me, now. African Americans, as far as the eye can see! Is there any type of way to get out of this, can you send help, can you blast them from space with some sort of ray gun, or maybe make them sleep for a few minutes?”
”Thank you for calling OnStar, goodbye. Click.”
“She's gone. OnStar is gone. Forever. They must've gotten to her.”
“Ian?”
”Yes, Shane.”
“I'm freakin out man! We've been in this car for too long, I cant breathe coughcough I'm frightened and cold.”
“Hang on, I'll turn on the seat heater.”
“You got a seat heater with this?”
“I did, it's great on cold days. And on warm days, it's cooled, which is beautiful. I would've paid a million dollars for this car just based on the high tech testicular temperature controls.”
“Oh there it goes, that's nice right there. Keeping the boys warm, they don't know they're about to die.”
“They're in a better place already, Shane.”
“Shane?”
“Yes, Ian?”
”I think we have to make a run for it.”
“What time is it?
“830.”
”I think it would be a mistake to leave at night. They could be anywhere, they'd blend in.”
”I hadn't thought of that.”
“I think we should just get some sleep, and see about leaving in the morning. They might not be out in the early morning sun. I think it melts them or something.”
“That's vampires, Shane. We've been seeing them all day in the sun.”
“Oh right. Well, then we've got one up on the vampires then.”
”Vampires are Asian, Shane, everyone knows that.”
“Right.”
“Right.”
“To sleep?”
“To sleep.”

Morning.

“Ian. Ian wake up. We've made a terrible mistake!”
“Huh, Shelly….no… Huh? What?!”
“What the fuck, what are you saying Shelly for?”
“OH, I - uh. Dreamed about. Shells.”
“No, dick. You said Shelly. Not shells. What the fuck is going on?!”
“It's nothing, I had a dream about whores. I.E. Shelly.”
“Fuck you man, she's no whore. That's my Shelly.”
“She's a whore, she used to fuck Jerry the Jeweler.”
“So did your mother!”
“That's childish.”
“Ohhhh yeah, your mom had Jeweler Jerry all over her. All sorts of angles and ways and -“
“Shane, look at your Pellegrino.”
“Used to be like “Ohhhh Jeweler Jerry, got the diamond in his ballllls. And now I've got my own diamond in a way that no woman could -“
“Shane, stop it! Look at your Pellegrino!”
“-Probably going to need to go to the doctors, Jeweler Jerry, Gonna get that green shit all over me. Because your gold is sub par and turns green when it gets wet….oohhhhh Jewwwwwellllll Jewellllllller Jerry --- OHW! The fuck are you smacking me for?”
“Look.”
“The Pellegrino, it's shaking.”
“Yes, Shane. Do you know what that means?'
“The black fo-African Americans, they aren't hunting dinosaurs this early are they?”
“I don't think so. I think its bass. Look behind us.”
“Oh my god. The parking lot! It's full!”
“Denny's specialty is pancakes. It's a waffle house, Shane! We're in a waffle house breakfast at daybreak!”
“Good lord, we'll be sacrificed and used for syrup.”
“It's happened before.”
“AHHHHHH”
“AHHHHHH”

Panic.

“Oh my god, I don't think we can make it until lunchtime. Wait, they don't serve lunch do they?”
”I'm not sure, I cant read the hours from here.”
“What time is it, Shane?”
“7am.”
“We've got at least five hours until we can et out of here, and even then we might not be able to leave until two, maybe even two. If they have dinner, it wont be until eight or nine. We should have enough Pellegrino to last us.”
“Ah, I don't know”
”No we should, Pellegrino is delicious, but if we can hold off and only drink about five bottles a piece until then, we should be alright. We shouldn't have to eat yet.”
“I don't really eat.”
”Me neither. I stopped eating carbs, and so I just cut out the rest of it too.”
“Same here. Who needs it? I've got a whole kitchen full of food that's just going to go right into the garbage.”
“I did that last week, I put a few stereos in the cabinets, the kitchen has surround sound. It's pretty sweet.”
“I hadn't thought of that, that's a good idea. No room is really complete without surround sound. Maybe throw a hi-def flat screen into the fridge.”
“Way ahead of you.”
“Very nice, I'll have to come over and see.”
“Yes. All right. So that's not a problem, no food, but we don't eat, that's not for us. But we're stocked on Pellegrino.”
“Well actually…”
”Delicious Pellegrino, a gift from the gods.'
“Well, god's don't really exist here in this parking lot, and neither does Pellegrino.”
“No, it does, I told you, there's a case in the trunk.”
“No, it doesn't. It's gone.”
“What do you mean it's gone??”
“I drank it last night, and then I used some of it to clean up this morning.”
“What? You drank 24 bottles of Pellegrino?”
“23, I used one to wash the boys. That heater works a little too well, I tried to turn it off, but I just made it worse, and I was afraid that if I tuned it to cool, I'd either give the boys a cold, or create a thunderstorm in my balls.”
“But what the hell am I going to do without it?”
“I don't know, you should've bought more.”
“Obviously, and I will next time, but 23 bottles Shane?!”
“Don't take that tone with me, Ian, don't act like you've never drank a whole case of Pellegrino.”
”No, I haven't Shane, that's insane, I don't even know how you could physically do it, and now I'm going to die of thirst while you've glutted yourself on our rations!”
“Call onstar if you're so worried.”
“They. Got. To. Her. She's of no help to us. OnStar is dead, Shane! It's dead! I didn't want to tell you, but they bit her on the neck and now she's black! That's what happens Shane! They bite you and then you turn into one of them!”
“LIAR! You said that was impossible! You said it couldn't happen!”
”I lied to protect you Shane! You didn't need to know! I didn't want to frighten you more than you needed to be!”
“Oh my god we're doomed. Doomed. And… what was that.”
“Why is my Mercedes shaking?”
“OH MY GOD THEY'RE UNDER THE CAR! THEY'VE TUNNELED UNDER US! LIKE THAT MOVIE!”
“CALM DOWN, SHANE! They're not under the car. Not yet. But, it's worse than that.”
“How! How could it be worse?”
“We're out of gas.”
”What? We haven't driven the car in a day. How could we be out of gas?”
”I kept the car running for the air conditioner and the seat heaters.”
“You idiot!
“I didn't hear you complaining, all that talk about your balls, and how cozy everything was! “Ooh my balls, Ian, my balls. I heard it for an hour yesterday about your balls! How about now, your balls got us into this mess! You could've told me to turn off the car at any time so don't put this shit on me, Shane!”
“I didn't even know the Mercedes was on.”
“Of course not you idiot, it's a fucking Mercedes. It's smooth, Shane. Smooth!”
“Oh my god. I always knew I'd die in a Mercedes.”
“Really?”
“Well maybe not a Mercedes, but something high end. And if not a car, then a high end something else. Like my Duraunte. That's my bidet that I had installed.”
“Those are great. Like an ass massage. But without the shame.”
“Ian?”
”Yes, Shane?”
“What do we do now? We're out of water, we're out of gas, we're out of air conditioning and seat heating. It's all falling apart! I was only kind of worried before, but now I know what fear is! We're going to die in this Mercedes, Ian! Die! I never got to have sex with three women at once! I never got to spend the night in the White House. I never got to have sex with three women at the White House!”
“Calm down, Shane! Pull it together! We're out of options, my friend. It's come down to one choice, we have one choice.”
“Eat my cell phone? That'll probably kill me somehow. At least I'll get to go out my own way.”
“No, asshole. We have to make a run for it.”
“Run? What are you an idiot? How would we do that?”
“One foot in front of the other”
“Yeah, that's funny. Glad you're here to lighten the mood, Jeff Foxworthy, but I'm deadly serious, deadly, as in, we're-going-to-die-you-fucking-idiot serious.”
“We'll what the fuck do you think I mean. We run. For the highway. We stick out our thumbs and hope an Accountant or a CEO Comes by and gives us a lift.”
“That'll never work, CEO's hunt drifters for sport, and you know that!”
“I know that, you know that, everyone knows that. We have business cards on us; we know the secret hand shake. We'll be back in Landville before you know it.”
“I guess it's the only way. I think we should rest up a bit before it all starts.”
”I think that's probably the best idea.”

The Journey Home