"He's much like a process that's in use: you can't delete him. No matter what you do - it's impossible. The system doesn't allow it. So move on - find another way."
I have his address.
"Richter - don't. You mustn't."
It was his mistake. He left himself wide open. He knows the rules.
"Rules? He doesn't play by the rules!"
That's precisely the point. He doesn't. So I won't. If that's the way he likes it than that's the way he'll get it.
"You know he wins if you do that. Then you're playing like him."
No I'm not! He's playing with computers! I'm playing with real physical matter that just might assist in bashing his skull right the fuck in! He doesn't win, Kent - he'll be fucking dead! I win! I win motherfucker!
~
Richter stood in the shadows in front of Dmonwv's physical address:
179.709.002.02
He clutched a baseball bat in his tightly clenched fists - Richter was still very pissed off. The only reason he was lurking in the dark was to wait until the lights inside the house turned off. Then he would walk over to the house and find a way in.
There were no passcodes - no keys required. In the physical world, things break with the most understandable methods: brute force. And so the baseball bat did the shattering of the window - clearing away the glass so Richter could reach thru and unlock the door. It was so simple.
Now he stood in darkness, wondering where that basterd hacker was hiding - probably thinking up some plan in his mind that he thought was so brilliant - or probably equally terrified at the prospects of a real break in. Dmonwv.dll had never had to face physical threats - only virtual ones.
On his computer, Dmonwv amassed an virtual army to patrol and protect his beloved digital realm that was Windows XP. But here, in his crumbing, dirty and not the least bit padlocked or ADT'd bachelor pad, Dmonwv realized that he had certainly left some gaping holes in the security of his computer. He peered out from behind his partially opened bedroom door to see Richter heading for his computer - with a bat raised - it was too much for Dmonwv to bear silence.
"NOOOOOOO!"
But Richter lay down the hatchet into the brushed aluminum tower. It didn't distort much - so he went for the dual LCD monitors - ending their brilliance.
Dmonwv would have tried to stop Richter, but he left his glasses on the bureu, and couldn't see very well. So he stood dumb and blind in the darkness, watching Richter destroy his only means for being.
When he had felt enough satisfaction - Richter turned around and headed for the skinny figure hiding in the darkness.
Dmonwv closed the door to his bedroom and leapt onto his bed - going for the window behind the headboard, but that was pointless. The poorly manufactured 1970's Arab-oil-embargo-era door burst into a thousand splinters as Richter advanced. He grabbed Dmonwv by the neck and punched him across the face. The computer science graduate had never felt such pain in his entire life - so tears sprung to his eyes.
But Richter couldn't see them in the dark. Only the silhouette of some mysterious, malicious hacker who put a virus on Richter's computer that was so bad, it ultimately caused his internet retail business to fall into bankruptcy. Now his life was at stake - his children's, too. How could he feed them without a job - without money? Apparently, when Dmonwv wrote such malicious code, he had no foresight into such things. And he never foresaw this, otherwise he'd have stayed away from computers period.
~
It just so happened that Dmonwv's house was equipped with a dungeon (or as some people might call a basement). Richter threw Dmonwv onto the hard stone floor - his hands and feet bound together and his mouth taped shut. These precautions would insure that Dmonwv would not be able to be mobile - to speak - to eat - to be heard or discovered, etc.
But Richter didn't want Dmonwv to just lay there in peace - he wanted him to be in severe pain. So he broke some of Dmonwv's ribs - so that every breth he took, was one he'd wished he couldn't. Richter also stepped Dmonwv's face - crushing his nose to make it even harder for him to breathe. And before he left, Richter found a hammer which he used to crush Dmonwv's fingers, turning the bones into splinters.
The enraged Richter spied the shimmering blade of an axe in a dark corner.
"No" Dmonwv muttered in agony, "please."
"You hack me," Richter lifted the axe, "I hack you."
The weight of the blade plunged into Dmonwv's bare abdomen, sinking into the maze of his intestines and spilling out blood and bits of digested food that the young man had consumed to continue living, but now it was all pouring over the genitals he never used and onto the cold concrete floor - what a waste, he might have thought, if the pain wasn't sending him into a state of shock, the realization that he would die soon probably would.
Richter lifted the blade and let it fall once more - this time sinking into Dmonwv's chest. The bones seemed to crack so easily, and a second strike sent the wedge further in. At this point, there was no sign of life from the young man. Richter was satisfied.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Saturday, June 24, 2006
Chlorophoeyple
By 2177 the Moon had five hundred thousand human inhabitants. At the same time, the first five thousand were brooding on Mars and the ISA was sending its first manned space vehicle to Jupiter's satellite Io. It would take the energy of a 50 megaton atomic bomb - or about 1% of the energy the Sun spends in a fraction of a second - to send five humans to a barren rock about 375 million miles away from the earth - the equivilant of driving from Houston to El Paso, Texas about a half a million times. But on the day the crew of Jovian I touched down on Io, the live televised transcultural phenomenon International Superstar was favored over the time delayed Ionian landing by a ratio of 3:1. Since advanced spaceprobes were able to transcribe the geography of all things within the solar system with such realistic precision, people already knew what to expect from Io. The power of such advanced computing machines had allowed man to conquest the known universe from his own desk. Wheather or not he knew this was real, he believed it enough.
And such defines the era. A time when fiction and reality was so successfully blurred by technology that time and place were no longer important to a person. Past generations had speculated that humans were incapable of living as pure telecommunicators, but the newer generations proved them wrong. Of course not all were like this - there were still many people who engaged in the classic, lo-tech face-to-face human conversation, but these people were known as liberals or hippies, and were regarded as extremeists to many. Alas the whole of the human race had been successfully hypnotised by the higher powers, even with an open source Internet, they were blissfully ignorant of what kind of side effects this would have on the evolution of humans.
A millennium later humanity found themselves at the crossroads of a new era: intergalactic space travel. It was not the kind that the humans had longed resisted - traveling in hypersleep for decades before reaching their destinations - but a new kind that was somewhere in between teleportation and virtual reality.
Quantum physics had long been the standard for transporting data faster than light. Though it was never used for transporting organic matter - as biometric frameworks were still too complex an unpredictable to be dissected and then properly rearranged by any machine - humans had found a way around this problem which was digitizing the human conscious. Once in digital form, the human conscious could be transmitted and re-assembled at the other end in an open framework environment. In this case, the environment would be an android on another planet.
In an instant, a person would find themselves in an artificial body on Gemellus, the Earth-like planet in the Gliese system, which is about 32.5 light years from earth. Of course, the system would only work if real humans pysically traveled there to set up the recieving components of this new system of travel. The spacecraft headed for Gemellus was Ericson I, a generation ship powered by a Bussard ramjet which made the ship capable of near-light speed towards the end of the trip - though it would take 209 years for the ship to arrive.
One might suspect that the crew would remain in suspended animation, but such a long time in a chryotube was dangerous and risky. The idea of a generation ship is that many generations of the crew birth and die during the journey. In this case, the ship started out with ten families. Half of these were trained experts in the components concerning quantum mechanics, the next three were physical scientists with respective expeirience in biology, geology and medicine, and the last two families were astrophysicists - exclusive to navigating and operating the ship. Ericson I was also equipped with five operating droids who carried out the housekeepings and general maintenances of the ship. They were Dale, Elvin, June, Kandra and Mossimo. Their names were called for by the humans more than any other.
The humans kept professional relationships. They understood that their good behavior was being depended upon by the whole of humanity, so they spent their brainpower on matters which were cohesive to those ends, not ends which involved daydreams and wonder. Though it was a fairly open truth that the closer the familys came to Gemellus, the more they wondered about the existance of an intelligent species other than their own. The most fervent wonderers of this were two boys in the last generation: Julian Delphi and Orion Kaminski. Even though Julian's parents were in quantum mechanics and Orion's were biologists - and both of them were destined to carry the same expertise - they still shared a similar interest, and that was the little green men.
By now the appearance of extra terrestrials as little green men was old legend, but the boys had discovered these relics on the network archives when they were only four, and since then, they had been relaying messages of images and accounts of how many humans in the past had claimed they were abducted by these aliens. It was all very fascinating to the boys, and now that they were twelve, it had become well known amognst the families of Ericson I that the boys hoped very sincerely that they would meet similar creatures when the arrived at Gemellus.
Ten years later and five after Ericson I docked in orbit around Gemellus, the Kaminski family, including Orion, had concluded after some extensive surveying of the wildlife that Gamellus had not been a harborer of intelligent life before they arrived. It was disappointing news, but soon enough, the families of Ericson I had long forgotten, for they would now be hevily involved in the process of establishing a reciever station on the planet's surface. After they were brought down from cargo, 100 androids with empty souls were activated and in such an unfair and unimaginable instant, the mind of a man 32.5 lightyears away was now brought into the android, and they were one. His name was Thom Essol, and he was the first of nineteen to experience quantum travel at such a distance. There would be many more.
Twenty years later the humans had established a small colony on the surface of Gemellus in a semi-tropical region that wasn't unlike areas of the Mediterrainian, but without the touch of man. The planet attracted some of the most rich and famous who could afford such an adventure, including heads of state who could afford it on the taxpayer's dollar. Before long, the colony looked more like a resort than a center of research and technology and the android bodies became more customized to individual appearances. Everything was going smoothly until some reports back on Earth began surfacing...
Group of Gemellus visitors say they saw 'little green men'
Secretary Kennedy concedes he saw green beings on Gemellus
The President denies he saw alien life on Gemellus
As the Kaminski family reviewed the evidence, the ISA immediately sent a team of biologists to confirm the reports, but they all came back empty handed.
ISA reconfirms: 'No aliens on Gamellus'
Sure there were wild species that inhabited the air, the water and the land, but none were intelligent and certainly none were little green human-like creatures. So the ISA told the public that the cause of these sightings was the human imagination, and the similar accounts were due to a psychological contradiction caused by the presence of the human mind in a foreign world coupled with past stereotypes concerning these worlds being inhabited by such creatures.
Of course, the ISA had no idea why this was happening, but they fearly suspected that it had to do with a problem in the transmission process. Did something happen during reassimilation with the human body? Or was it an obscure side effect of the mind being separated from the body?
The answer was known to those two boys who were so obsessed with the idea of aliens in their youth. Julian and Orion had never forgotten about their little green friends, and they had never forgotten the searing pain of depression in finding that these beings didn't inhabit Gamellus or any other known planet. They had so hoped it was true, but it wasn't. And for that, they had been ridiculed by their peers for quite some time until Julian had come up with a devilish plan...
With their combined expertise in quantum physics and biology, both Julian and Orion knew that it was possible to trick the human mind with the right technology and brain clearance. Because the human mind was in digital form, all Julian had to do was write a program if he wanted to change things. Orion helped him with the biology.
In their youth, they imagined a race of aliens - Chlorophoeyple - who were small, human-like, tree-habiting creatures. Their skin was green because of the chlorophyll in their skin - a photosynthetic creature which drank water and absorbed the sunrays. A perfectly harmless creature who's intelligence and dexterity was its only strength. When it died, it was eaten by a herbivor, who was eaten by a carnivore, who was eaten by another carnivore. But in its death, a chemical reaction would cause the release of vitamin F, a neuro deficient substance which upon consumption, prohibits the DNA of its consumer from evolving, trapping it in an evolutionary cul-de-sac. This is how they became more intelligent than others.
Julian and Orion had so hoped that a creature as exquisite as this one could exist, and now, in a way, it was existing in the minds of some. Though there was no evidence to suggest they were right, there also was none to suggest why they were wrong. So there was a silent speculation amognst the community, and for a short amount of time, Julian and Orion were treated with a little more respect by those whom had questioned them in the past. But it was only for a short time.
One day all the androids, the humans, and some of the animals of Gamellus looked up into the sky to find a giant asteroid streaking across the atmosphere in a firey blaze. The impact would surely end man's existance on the planet, and if they did not think quickly, it would end their lives.
The detonation in the distance was brilliant, and a dome of geography spewed into the atmosphere. A shockwave knocked down the humans, while the androids stood in amazement. Julien and Orion watched the scene from behind a window, which shattered in their faces. They would surely have to leave as soon as possible.
Hundreds of androids rushed to the transmittors - it would be impossible for all of them to go at once - there were only twenty transmission stations for the androids. But who would send them? Certainly the humans had no time for that, so Dale, Elvin, June, Kandra and Mossimo would stay to operate the transmittors.
Now the humans had a fairly extraordinary situation, for once they transmitted themselves, they would have to remain in their android bodies on earth indefinitely, as their bodies here would be destroyed. Julian had only seconds to select an android body. There was a catalogue of them, but when Julian started to feel the ground shake violently, he selected...
Turko-Scandinavian-Male-25
Julian woke up moments after he thought he was dead. He thought of what happened. He saw the explosion, and before that the asteroid streaking through the sky. And before that he saw Gamellus as it was before that. He saw the beach, the alien sky, and in the trees he saw - what was this? Little green men. He saw them distinctly. An operator approached and asked his name. Julien nodded. The operator looked down at his tablet and asked him a question:
"Carnivore is to herbivor as herbivor is to what?"
Julien had to think for a moment why the operator was asking him, but then he remembered that it was a security precaution, and that he had written down this question as a passcode years ago. Of course the answer was "Chlorophoeyple". Of course - that's what the little green men were! Yes, it had worked more vividly than he had ever imagined. He remembered the program he wrote and implanted in the system. It was a program that made people think that they saw little green men when they returned to earth. Yes, the Chlorophoeyple were more magnificent than he had ever imagined. He wondered what Orion would say...
Julien looked around the room. There were anderoids all over - he recognized noone.
"Orion?" Julien called out.
Some of the androids responded with blank stares, and some of them didn't respond at all. Julien walked around the room. He didn't know what Orion looked like. Julian began to wonder if Orion had made it back. Surely he did.
Once Julian collected some clothes and checked out with the company, he stood in the terminal with a sign that said ORION on it. As he stood there he once again felt that searing depression of loosing something. But then he closed his eyes and tried to remember the Chlorophoeyple. They might not have been as real as Orion, but they made him feel better.
And such defines the era. A time when fiction and reality was so successfully blurred by technology that time and place were no longer important to a person. Past generations had speculated that humans were incapable of living as pure telecommunicators, but the newer generations proved them wrong. Of course not all were like this - there were still many people who engaged in the classic, lo-tech face-to-face human conversation, but these people were known as liberals or hippies, and were regarded as extremeists to many. Alas the whole of the human race had been successfully hypnotised by the higher powers, even with an open source Internet, they were blissfully ignorant of what kind of side effects this would have on the evolution of humans.
A millennium later humanity found themselves at the crossroads of a new era: intergalactic space travel. It was not the kind that the humans had longed resisted - traveling in hypersleep for decades before reaching their destinations - but a new kind that was somewhere in between teleportation and virtual reality.
Quantum physics had long been the standard for transporting data faster than light. Though it was never used for transporting organic matter - as biometric frameworks were still too complex an unpredictable to be dissected and then properly rearranged by any machine - humans had found a way around this problem which was digitizing the human conscious. Once in digital form, the human conscious could be transmitted and re-assembled at the other end in an open framework environment. In this case, the environment would be an android on another planet.
In an instant, a person would find themselves in an artificial body on Gemellus, the Earth-like planet in the Gliese system, which is about 32.5 light years from earth. Of course, the system would only work if real humans pysically traveled there to set up the recieving components of this new system of travel. The spacecraft headed for Gemellus was Ericson I, a generation ship powered by a Bussard ramjet which made the ship capable of near-light speed towards the end of the trip - though it would take 209 years for the ship to arrive.
One might suspect that the crew would remain in suspended animation, but such a long time in a chryotube was dangerous and risky. The idea of a generation ship is that many generations of the crew birth and die during the journey. In this case, the ship started out with ten families. Half of these were trained experts in the components concerning quantum mechanics, the next three were physical scientists with respective expeirience in biology, geology and medicine, and the last two families were astrophysicists - exclusive to navigating and operating the ship. Ericson I was also equipped with five operating droids who carried out the housekeepings and general maintenances of the ship. They were Dale, Elvin, June, Kandra and Mossimo. Their names were called for by the humans more than any other.
The humans kept professional relationships. They understood that their good behavior was being depended upon by the whole of humanity, so they spent their brainpower on matters which were cohesive to those ends, not ends which involved daydreams and wonder. Though it was a fairly open truth that the closer the familys came to Gemellus, the more they wondered about the existance of an intelligent species other than their own. The most fervent wonderers of this were two boys in the last generation: Julian Delphi and Orion Kaminski. Even though Julian's parents were in quantum mechanics and Orion's were biologists - and both of them were destined to carry the same expertise - they still shared a similar interest, and that was the little green men.
By now the appearance of extra terrestrials as little green men was old legend, but the boys had discovered these relics on the network archives when they were only four, and since then, they had been relaying messages of images and accounts of how many humans in the past had claimed they were abducted by these aliens. It was all very fascinating to the boys, and now that they were twelve, it had become well known amognst the families of Ericson I that the boys hoped very sincerely that they would meet similar creatures when the arrived at Gemellus.
Ten years later and five after Ericson I docked in orbit around Gemellus, the Kaminski family, including Orion, had concluded after some extensive surveying of the wildlife that Gamellus had not been a harborer of intelligent life before they arrived. It was disappointing news, but soon enough, the families of Ericson I had long forgotten, for they would now be hevily involved in the process of establishing a reciever station on the planet's surface. After they were brought down from cargo, 100 androids with empty souls were activated and in such an unfair and unimaginable instant, the mind of a man 32.5 lightyears away was now brought into the android, and they were one. His name was Thom Essol, and he was the first of nineteen to experience quantum travel at such a distance. There would be many more.
Twenty years later the humans had established a small colony on the surface of Gemellus in a semi-tropical region that wasn't unlike areas of the Mediterrainian, but without the touch of man. The planet attracted some of the most rich and famous who could afford such an adventure, including heads of state who could afford it on the taxpayer's dollar. Before long, the colony looked more like a resort than a center of research and technology and the android bodies became more customized to individual appearances. Everything was going smoothly until some reports back on Earth began surfacing...
Group of Gemellus visitors say they saw 'little green men'
Secretary Kennedy concedes he saw green beings on Gemellus
The President denies he saw alien life on Gemellus
As the Kaminski family reviewed the evidence, the ISA immediately sent a team of biologists to confirm the reports, but they all came back empty handed.
ISA reconfirms: 'No aliens on Gamellus'
Sure there were wild species that inhabited the air, the water and the land, but none were intelligent and certainly none were little green human-like creatures. So the ISA told the public that the cause of these sightings was the human imagination, and the similar accounts were due to a psychological contradiction caused by the presence of the human mind in a foreign world coupled with past stereotypes concerning these worlds being inhabited by such creatures.
Of course, the ISA had no idea why this was happening, but they fearly suspected that it had to do with a problem in the transmission process. Did something happen during reassimilation with the human body? Or was it an obscure side effect of the mind being separated from the body?
The answer was known to those two boys who were so obsessed with the idea of aliens in their youth. Julian and Orion had never forgotten about their little green friends, and they had never forgotten the searing pain of depression in finding that these beings didn't inhabit Gamellus or any other known planet. They had so hoped it was true, but it wasn't. And for that, they had been ridiculed by their peers for quite some time until Julian had come up with a devilish plan...
With their combined expertise in quantum physics and biology, both Julian and Orion knew that it was possible to trick the human mind with the right technology and brain clearance. Because the human mind was in digital form, all Julian had to do was write a program if he wanted to change things. Orion helped him with the biology.
In their youth, they imagined a race of aliens - Chlorophoeyple - who were small, human-like, tree-habiting creatures. Their skin was green because of the chlorophyll in their skin - a photosynthetic creature which drank water and absorbed the sunrays. A perfectly harmless creature who's intelligence and dexterity was its only strength. When it died, it was eaten by a herbivor, who was eaten by a carnivore, who was eaten by another carnivore. But in its death, a chemical reaction would cause the release of vitamin F, a neuro deficient substance which upon consumption, prohibits the DNA of its consumer from evolving, trapping it in an evolutionary cul-de-sac. This is how they became more intelligent than others.
Julian and Orion had so hoped that a creature as exquisite as this one could exist, and now, in a way, it was existing in the minds of some. Though there was no evidence to suggest they were right, there also was none to suggest why they were wrong. So there was a silent speculation amognst the community, and for a short amount of time, Julian and Orion were treated with a little more respect by those whom had questioned them in the past. But it was only for a short time.
One day all the androids, the humans, and some of the animals of Gamellus looked up into the sky to find a giant asteroid streaking across the atmosphere in a firey blaze. The impact would surely end man's existance on the planet, and if they did not think quickly, it would end their lives.
The detonation in the distance was brilliant, and a dome of geography spewed into the atmosphere. A shockwave knocked down the humans, while the androids stood in amazement. Julien and Orion watched the scene from behind a window, which shattered in their faces. They would surely have to leave as soon as possible.
Hundreds of androids rushed to the transmittors - it would be impossible for all of them to go at once - there were only twenty transmission stations for the androids. But who would send them? Certainly the humans had no time for that, so Dale, Elvin, June, Kandra and Mossimo would stay to operate the transmittors.
Now the humans had a fairly extraordinary situation, for once they transmitted themselves, they would have to remain in their android bodies on earth indefinitely, as their bodies here would be destroyed. Julian had only seconds to select an android body. There was a catalogue of them, but when Julian started to feel the ground shake violently, he selected...
Turko-Scandinavian-Male-25
Julian woke up moments after he thought he was dead. He thought of what happened. He saw the explosion, and before that the asteroid streaking through the sky. And before that he saw Gamellus as it was before that. He saw the beach, the alien sky, and in the trees he saw - what was this? Little green men. He saw them distinctly. An operator approached and asked his name. Julien nodded. The operator looked down at his tablet and asked him a question:
"Carnivore is to herbivor as herbivor is to what?"
Julien had to think for a moment why the operator was asking him, but then he remembered that it was a security precaution, and that he had written down this question as a passcode years ago. Of course the answer was "Chlorophoeyple". Of course - that's what the little green men were! Yes, it had worked more vividly than he had ever imagined. He remembered the program he wrote and implanted in the system. It was a program that made people think that they saw little green men when they returned to earth. Yes, the Chlorophoeyple were more magnificent than he had ever imagined. He wondered what Orion would say...
Julien looked around the room. There were anderoids all over - he recognized noone.
"Orion?" Julien called out.
Some of the androids responded with blank stares, and some of them didn't respond at all. Julien walked around the room. He didn't know what Orion looked like. Julian began to wonder if Orion had made it back. Surely he did.
Once Julian collected some clothes and checked out with the company, he stood in the terminal with a sign that said ORION on it. As he stood there he once again felt that searing depression of loosing something. But then he closed his eyes and tried to remember the Chlorophoeyple. They might not have been as real as Orion, but they made him feel better.
Saturday, April 22, 2006
Bollocks-face
Downey Hoover is an agent of the Rhizome, but he has a broblem: he gets scat attacks.
Shoobie doo-wap bop shoo-bop bop, shooo...
So whenever he's sneaking up on somebody to kill them, he's always running the risk of scatin' out of control. It hasn't happened since he killed Pointus Bartholemieu...
He was sneekin' up on him like somethin' silent when these scats just started slippin' out his mouth...
Scoot ti de ba ba da doobie doobie doo boo da...
And Bartholemieu no doubt heard this nonsense and turned around. But even though Downey was scatin' that didn't stop him from capin' Pointus in the face.
Pop!
Pointus grumbled "bollocks" and died as Downey scated.
Shoobie do do cha, chapa du cha che...
It was a terrible incodent and Downey didn't want it to happen again. It was dishonorable, he thought, to sputter such nonsense over a man as he died. So he drove this morning to Hattingsworth Pendleton-Huxley Bureau to the St. Christopher Hospital to inquire about his uncontrollable scat attacks.
~
"Oh there's no doubt that these attacks are quite undesireable, Mr. Hoover." the physician stated. "And not at all acceptable in proper society."
"Indeed, sir."
"Though I must ask you some questions and I apologize if they are of a personal nature. But I shall remind you that these inquiries are only for the benifit of your health, sir."
"Of course."
The physician looks down at his clipboard, "Are you the son of interracial parents?"
"Oh heavens no, sir."
Check.
"And have you at any time had associations with a negro?"
"No."
"What about in your childhood?"
"I don't recall, sir."
"Perhaps, you had a negro nanny?"
"My nanny was an old English woman born and raised in Cottingdale-Hastings Bureau. She was of the Saxton family whom are of direct lineage from the Queen's second butler."
"Ah, of the Pendleburrey family. A very pure breed, sir. But what about servants. Any negro servants?"
"I don't recall. I don't have a mind that pays much attention to the negros, so I suppose it's entirely possible."
"Ah, but the mind's eye, sir. The mind's eye could have easily spotted one."
"Entirely possible."
"So it is possible that when you were still in the cradle, a negro servant was cleaning nearby, and possibly hymning to themselves a rap song."
"Yes..."
"And this was somehow imbedded in your mind in a way that you were absolutely helpless to resist; you didn't know the risks of listening to this kind of sound, so your poor mind was molested."
"Molested!"
"Yes, molested. By a negro servant." The doctor pulls out a chattering vile from his white pockets, "These pills will remedy your problem."
"Thak god, sir."
"Their simple molestations are no match for modern medicine."
~
Downey took his medicine as deliberately as possible. Though he did not follow the directions as precisely as he should have. He took them with milk when he should have used Hashworth Whiskey. So he started to develop a crease in the center of his face. By the second day, it was more of a great divide. And then a bi-lateral covex started to form across his scalp, which caused his hair to fall out at this location. By the third day his mouth separated into six equalateral tri-vexes, whereas they each developed in this position, their own sets of lips.
By this time, Downey was obviously worried, but he couldn't bring himself to go outside, or even show his face to the outside world, for fear that he might scare people into heart attacks. But his horror was far from over. His voice became as silent as a breeze because of his separate mouths and only a single set of teeth. Though he would then develop on the fourth day a newly formed orvis, which is basically a hole in his temple so that he could attach USB compatable devices to his brain. But first he needed a driver and several other hardware modifications before it was entirely operable. So his brain separated in two - right down the middle and then developed their own halves. He now had two brains - one to control general functions and the other to control interaction with human manufactured devices.
But this was only the beginning. After the separation of the brain, his eyes formed angenieux cortexes, a sort of telephoto system for spying on his enemies - he had always wanted this. And after this, he could feel in his throat something tremendous happening. In fact, he was developing six vocal boxes, every one speaking a different language: English, French, Spanish, Russian, Mandarin and Arabic - this was the default programming, however, he could change them in the future via USB. And after the six voices came to be, the seventh seal in his face closed - that being his original mouth.
And the moment it was sealed, there was a tremendous build of pressure from within, and so pockets of wrath bulged from his first cheeks and grew with such tremendous speed, that they had to be coated in ambulance, and with regards to where the pressure would go after this, a passage to the nasal cavity was to be forged, and the air released there. The pressure was from, of course, the heartache of loosing his face, but mostly from his own decision to continue breathing. When he looked in the mirror for the last time, he began to scat in six languages - but they all sounded the same.
Shoobie doo-wap bop shoo-bop bop, shooo...
So whenever he's sneaking up on somebody to kill them, he's always running the risk of scatin' out of control. It hasn't happened since he killed Pointus Bartholemieu...
He was sneekin' up on him like somethin' silent when these scats just started slippin' out his mouth...
Scoot ti de ba ba da doobie doobie doo boo da...
And Bartholemieu no doubt heard this nonsense and turned around. But even though Downey was scatin' that didn't stop him from capin' Pointus in the face.
Pop!
Pointus grumbled "bollocks" and died as Downey scated.
Shoobie do do cha, chapa du cha che...
It was a terrible incodent and Downey didn't want it to happen again. It was dishonorable, he thought, to sputter such nonsense over a man as he died. So he drove this morning to Hattingsworth Pendleton-Huxley Bureau to the St. Christopher Hospital to inquire about his uncontrollable scat attacks.
~
"Oh there's no doubt that these attacks are quite undesireable, Mr. Hoover." the physician stated. "And not at all acceptable in proper society."
"Indeed, sir."
"Though I must ask you some questions and I apologize if they are of a personal nature. But I shall remind you that these inquiries are only for the benifit of your health, sir."
"Of course."
The physician looks down at his clipboard, "Are you the son of interracial parents?"
"Oh heavens no, sir."
Check.
"And have you at any time had associations with a negro?"
"No."
"What about in your childhood?"
"I don't recall, sir."
"Perhaps, you had a negro nanny?"
"My nanny was an old English woman born and raised in Cottingdale-Hastings Bureau. She was of the Saxton family whom are of direct lineage from the Queen's second butler."
"Ah, of the Pendleburrey family. A very pure breed, sir. But what about servants. Any negro servants?"
"I don't recall. I don't have a mind that pays much attention to the negros, so I suppose it's entirely possible."
"Ah, but the mind's eye, sir. The mind's eye could have easily spotted one."
"Entirely possible."
"So it is possible that when you were still in the cradle, a negro servant was cleaning nearby, and possibly hymning to themselves a rap song."
"Yes..."
"And this was somehow imbedded in your mind in a way that you were absolutely helpless to resist; you didn't know the risks of listening to this kind of sound, so your poor mind was molested."
"Molested!"
"Yes, molested. By a negro servant." The doctor pulls out a chattering vile from his white pockets, "These pills will remedy your problem."
"Thak god, sir."
"Their simple molestations are no match for modern medicine."
~
Downey took his medicine as deliberately as possible. Though he did not follow the directions as precisely as he should have. He took them with milk when he should have used Hashworth Whiskey. So he started to develop a crease in the center of his face. By the second day, it was more of a great divide. And then a bi-lateral covex started to form across his scalp, which caused his hair to fall out at this location. By the third day his mouth separated into six equalateral tri-vexes, whereas they each developed in this position, their own sets of lips.
By this time, Downey was obviously worried, but he couldn't bring himself to go outside, or even show his face to the outside world, for fear that he might scare people into heart attacks. But his horror was far from over. His voice became as silent as a breeze because of his separate mouths and only a single set of teeth. Though he would then develop on the fourth day a newly formed orvis, which is basically a hole in his temple so that he could attach USB compatable devices to his brain. But first he needed a driver and several other hardware modifications before it was entirely operable. So his brain separated in two - right down the middle and then developed their own halves. He now had two brains - one to control general functions and the other to control interaction with human manufactured devices.
But this was only the beginning. After the separation of the brain, his eyes formed angenieux cortexes, a sort of telephoto system for spying on his enemies - he had always wanted this. And after this, he could feel in his throat something tremendous happening. In fact, he was developing six vocal boxes, every one speaking a different language: English, French, Spanish, Russian, Mandarin and Arabic - this was the default programming, however, he could change them in the future via USB. And after the six voices came to be, the seventh seal in his face closed - that being his original mouth.
And the moment it was sealed, there was a tremendous build of pressure from within, and so pockets of wrath bulged from his first cheeks and grew with such tremendous speed, that they had to be coated in ambulance, and with regards to where the pressure would go after this, a passage to the nasal cavity was to be forged, and the air released there. The pressure was from, of course, the heartache of loosing his face, but mostly from his own decision to continue breathing. When he looked in the mirror for the last time, he began to scat in six languages - but they all sounded the same.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Time Cog
Gets me through the night faster.
"The Time Cog?"
Yeah.
"What is it?"
It's a device that sort of speeds up time. Not the kind of time on a watch - not man made time - but real time. Time that you can feel. Time that your brain knows is passing. You access it by creamating old ladies, transfiguring dog faces into dump trucks, and other literal methods of attempting to excite some rarely used areas of your brain.
You see, that sick area of your mind always has more energy than the other parts.
"Why is that?"
Because that part is never used. It's a recessed recess that few try to access becaused they stopped going back in elementary school.
"You still take recess?"
Well, no, not actually. I'm not in school anymore. Now I have to construct my own recesses. Because, really, as adults, our whole lives have so much freedom, to children, they wish they had that much, and so we cherished recess when we were children because of that. Now, we take that freedom for granted. And we feel that we don't have any, because we're tied down to survival - like having to make moneys so we can eat and live comfortably. But that's not really true.
I think we do have the capacity to take recesses if we want - spontaneously - at any time - but people don't do it because either they A) Don't know how or B) Need a diagram or C) Refuse or maybe D) Don't have the capacity and even possibly F) Are generally over stimulated to the point that the recess is so buried, so infact recessed, that retrieving it is close to impossible - the recess is possibly crushed under the weight of all the pointless bullshit they've packed their skulls with. This, is probably one of the most unfortunate things, because, I almost see it as killing a child - killing your innocence.
"Your recess is innocent?"
Well, no doubt that over the years, parts of reality and political correctness have seeped into this cavity - it's almost unavoidable - but you can govern it. You can have this recess play well with other parts of your brain - the so called "more mature parts" - the "older kids" so-to-speak. And they can both create something which is useful.
"How is it useful?"
It's useful because we need to escape once in a while.
"People take vacations."
Even that is troublesome - because you have to spend money and you have this finite timeline and flights to catch and car rental contracts to sign. Vacation? Hardly. More like a time that you really get to help out the economy - kind of like Christmas. Vacations are hardly escapes, unless you're obscenely wealthy and can afford to take really long vacations. Most people can't do that. You shouldn't have to spend money to get away from it all. This is what the recess is useful for - to escape - for free. Of course, the government doesn't like us taking these recesses because A) They don't help drive the economy and B) They can't tax it.
"Do you really think the government cares?"
Yes! There's been this movement over the past century to make daydreamers and oddballs looks like idiots and "weirdos". If only surrealism was en vogue - you have no idea of how quickly our economy would reverse itself. Please - you think they would allow people to have crazy thoughts? To daydream? Not at the expense of the economy - of course they would replace that word with freedom when they spoke out against these liberal "un american" ways of life.
"Do you think they would allow time cogs?"
I don't see why not. The time cog only makes time feel faster - it doesn't make it faster. So I don't see why they would be opposed to allowing it. Unless of course, they wanted people's well being to decrease.
"Why would they want to do that?"
Please - oh christ - you really don't know?
"No."
To help fuel the pharmaceutical industry. When people's helth is poor what do they do? They get medicine. They see a doctor.
"Or a psychologist."
Or a psychologist.
How much time do I have left?
"The Time Cog?"
Yeah.
"What is it?"
It's a device that sort of speeds up time. Not the kind of time on a watch - not man made time - but real time. Time that you can feel. Time that your brain knows is passing. You access it by creamating old ladies, transfiguring dog faces into dump trucks, and other literal methods of attempting to excite some rarely used areas of your brain.
You see, that sick area of your mind always has more energy than the other parts.
"Why is that?"
Because that part is never used. It's a recessed recess that few try to access becaused they stopped going back in elementary school.
"You still take recess?"
Well, no, not actually. I'm not in school anymore. Now I have to construct my own recesses. Because, really, as adults, our whole lives have so much freedom, to children, they wish they had that much, and so we cherished recess when we were children because of that. Now, we take that freedom for granted. And we feel that we don't have any, because we're tied down to survival - like having to make moneys so we can eat and live comfortably. But that's not really true.
I think we do have the capacity to take recesses if we want - spontaneously - at any time - but people don't do it because either they A) Don't know how or B) Need a diagram or C) Refuse or maybe D) Don't have the capacity and even possibly F) Are generally over stimulated to the point that the recess is so buried, so infact recessed, that retrieving it is close to impossible - the recess is possibly crushed under the weight of all the pointless bullshit they've packed their skulls with. This, is probably one of the most unfortunate things, because, I almost see it as killing a child - killing your innocence.
"Your recess is innocent?"
Well, no doubt that over the years, parts of reality and political correctness have seeped into this cavity - it's almost unavoidable - but you can govern it. You can have this recess play well with other parts of your brain - the so called "more mature parts" - the "older kids" so-to-speak. And they can both create something which is useful.
"How is it useful?"
It's useful because we need to escape once in a while.
"People take vacations."
Even that is troublesome - because you have to spend money and you have this finite timeline and flights to catch and car rental contracts to sign. Vacation? Hardly. More like a time that you really get to help out the economy - kind of like Christmas. Vacations are hardly escapes, unless you're obscenely wealthy and can afford to take really long vacations. Most people can't do that. You shouldn't have to spend money to get away from it all. This is what the recess is useful for - to escape - for free. Of course, the government doesn't like us taking these recesses because A) They don't help drive the economy and B) They can't tax it.
"Do you really think the government cares?"
Yes! There's been this movement over the past century to make daydreamers and oddballs looks like idiots and "weirdos". If only surrealism was en vogue - you have no idea of how quickly our economy would reverse itself. Please - you think they would allow people to have crazy thoughts? To daydream? Not at the expense of the economy - of course they would replace that word with freedom when they spoke out against these liberal "un american" ways of life.
"Do you think they would allow time cogs?"
I don't see why not. The time cog only makes time feel faster - it doesn't make it faster. So I don't see why they would be opposed to allowing it. Unless of course, they wanted people's well being to decrease.
"Why would they want to do that?"
Please - oh christ - you really don't know?
"No."
To help fuel the pharmaceutical industry. When people's helth is poor what do they do? They get medicine. They see a doctor.
"Or a psychologist."
Or a psychologist.
How much time do I have left?
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Jennifer Dragon
Chicka pop-bop-bop... chicka. Chicka bop-pop-shoowop... a bubba wump-a, a humpa, a thumpa, a chubawumba thumpa, a boom-boom bounce, bounce, bounce bitch, bounce.
That is the sound Jennifer Dragon makes when she struts her stuff. It's pretty hard to put into words, but imagine this... your town has just been destroyed by an F4 tornado, and out of the smoke, the cinders, the absolute destruction comes this woman about the size of a cannon. She has cankles, missing washtowels, oversized t-shirts, slanted tits - the whole package. She is huge. But she walks through it all like it's no big deal. Though her trailer has been trashed, she has only one current priority - to find sustinance.
She's gotta pack her face with something soon, or otherwise her stomach will open up a black hole. But there really isn't any food around - it's all been blown away by the twister. But she thinks some people are hiding their foodstuffs - and no doubt this is wise when Dragon comes snooping around - but nobody in all honesty had even found food, or were even thinking about hunger at the moment.
A middle aged man has salvaged his Lay-z-Boy recliner and placed it where his house once was. He sits in it - rubble about him, wishing he had a beer and a television, but when Dragon approached, this would be his entertainment...
"Where's your food now fat ass!" the man yells from his chair. But this, was a mistake.
Dragon's breath impulsed her own brain sockets an upon this hunger-induced rage, her bodess stormed toward the man at something like maybe less than five miles per hour. But this was very fast - she approached with such an anger, and with such spectacle, that the man was awe-struck at the lobes of fat which thundered towards him. He peers beyond the fat and looks at her skeleton - poor thing.
The man hadn't been this scared since the twister. And though his ears didn't pop when she arrived over him, his pupils dialated as Dragon's teeth sank into his flesh. She began to eat him alive. He would have tried to stop her - but it seemed that her breath was fire - cooking the flesh as she ate him.
A bird coos from a treelimb.
Apparently, Jennifer took some substantial amount of offense from this - so she threw out her hand and digipathically annihilated the bird - it burst into a temporary fountain of chemicals which dripped all over the man's carpet.
"You bitch" he moaned under her spell, "Finish the job!"
So she ripped off his thighs - the meatiest parts of his body - and threw his remnants into a vortex she created out of her own left slipper. She watched his body tumble into infinity as she ate the rest of him. She was a monster - a bitch - and a Dragon.
Wings burst from her shoulder blades - ripping through the flesh like a pulsating corpse-fuck and she flew away into the daylight - her fat body bobbing up and down - her face in a state of terminal drunkness - blood dripping from her mouth and smoke puffing out her nose.
What a state, what a wicked state is this, she thought to herself as she surveyed the destruction. But in the distance, someting captured her eye. There it was - the tornado. There she would take out her vengeance, and possibly find some of her food floating around inside it.
But as soon as she started off, an expert duck hunter from below fired a twelve gauge clusterfuck into her side - sending Dragon tumbling to the ground. She bashed into some bog which captured her massive body, but fucked up her hair.
The hunters approached her with weapons drawn - a wise decision.
"Hey haw!" one of the hunters called out, sending a Beagle dog to investigate the kill.
But as soon as his little white mitts dipped into the bog, a slithering tongue sprung from the muck and sucked the dog down under.
"Hoa, now." the hunter stopped everyone.
"Let's light this bitch up." one hunter suggested.
Weapons drawn, they aimed at the beast and fired. But when the bullets came near enough, the beast emerged, drenched in surge of mud and bog sloth - the Beagle dog captured in her gaping mouth. The bullets only got as far as her stomach - she ate them and spit out the dog, sending him ripping through the air at such a tremendous speed that it impaled itself on one of the shotgun barrels.
This defense from Dragon was only followed by a breath of pure fire. She bellowed and blew some of the hottest flames upon the men, and they all burned alive - shotguns left in cinders and rounds exploding in the heat. Her job here was done, so she flew up into the sky and dialed nine one one.
With flames comming out her mouth, "My bitch is on fire!" But she melted her cell phone - so she devoured it. It was at this point when she was dialed out of existance thank goodness.
That is the sound Jennifer Dragon makes when she struts her stuff. It's pretty hard to put into words, but imagine this... your town has just been destroyed by an F4 tornado, and out of the smoke, the cinders, the absolute destruction comes this woman about the size of a cannon. She has cankles, missing washtowels, oversized t-shirts, slanted tits - the whole package. She is huge. But she walks through it all like it's no big deal. Though her trailer has been trashed, she has only one current priority - to find sustinance.
She's gotta pack her face with something soon, or otherwise her stomach will open up a black hole. But there really isn't any food around - it's all been blown away by the twister. But she thinks some people are hiding their foodstuffs - and no doubt this is wise when Dragon comes snooping around - but nobody in all honesty had even found food, or were even thinking about hunger at the moment.
A middle aged man has salvaged his Lay-z-Boy recliner and placed it where his house once was. He sits in it - rubble about him, wishing he had a beer and a television, but when Dragon approached, this would be his entertainment...
"Where's your food now fat ass!" the man yells from his chair. But this, was a mistake.
Dragon's breath impulsed her own brain sockets an upon this hunger-induced rage, her bodess stormed toward the man at something like maybe less than five miles per hour. But this was very fast - she approached with such an anger, and with such spectacle, that the man was awe-struck at the lobes of fat which thundered towards him. He peers beyond the fat and looks at her skeleton - poor thing.
The man hadn't been this scared since the twister. And though his ears didn't pop when she arrived over him, his pupils dialated as Dragon's teeth sank into his flesh. She began to eat him alive. He would have tried to stop her - but it seemed that her breath was fire - cooking the flesh as she ate him.
A bird coos from a treelimb.
Apparently, Jennifer took some substantial amount of offense from this - so she threw out her hand and digipathically annihilated the bird - it burst into a temporary fountain of chemicals which dripped all over the man's carpet.
"You bitch" he moaned under her spell, "Finish the job!"
So she ripped off his thighs - the meatiest parts of his body - and threw his remnants into a vortex she created out of her own left slipper. She watched his body tumble into infinity as she ate the rest of him. She was a monster - a bitch - and a Dragon.
Wings burst from her shoulder blades - ripping through the flesh like a pulsating corpse-fuck and she flew away into the daylight - her fat body bobbing up and down - her face in a state of terminal drunkness - blood dripping from her mouth and smoke puffing out her nose.
What a state, what a wicked state is this, she thought to herself as she surveyed the destruction. But in the distance, someting captured her eye. There it was - the tornado. There she would take out her vengeance, and possibly find some of her food floating around inside it.
But as soon as she started off, an expert duck hunter from below fired a twelve gauge clusterfuck into her side - sending Dragon tumbling to the ground. She bashed into some bog which captured her massive body, but fucked up her hair.
The hunters approached her with weapons drawn - a wise decision.
"Hey haw!" one of the hunters called out, sending a Beagle dog to investigate the kill.
But as soon as his little white mitts dipped into the bog, a slithering tongue sprung from the muck and sucked the dog down under.
"Hoa, now." the hunter stopped everyone.
"Let's light this bitch up." one hunter suggested.
Weapons drawn, they aimed at the beast and fired. But when the bullets came near enough, the beast emerged, drenched in surge of mud and bog sloth - the Beagle dog captured in her gaping mouth. The bullets only got as far as her stomach - she ate them and spit out the dog, sending him ripping through the air at such a tremendous speed that it impaled itself on one of the shotgun barrels.
This defense from Dragon was only followed by a breath of pure fire. She bellowed and blew some of the hottest flames upon the men, and they all burned alive - shotguns left in cinders and rounds exploding in the heat. Her job here was done, so she flew up into the sky and dialed nine one one.
With flames comming out her mouth, "My bitch is on fire!" But she melted her cell phone - so she devoured it. It was at this point when she was dialed out of existance thank goodness.
Saturday, March 25, 2006
Cold Cane
There was Danny, and there was Fuller, about three months before Black Friday, about twelve years after they were born again. They were born as twin brothers, but they weren't identical; Danny was bigger than Fuller. They sat in silence at the kitchen table while Mother Bible Face prepared supper; they were being punnished. Later on, Father Workhorse would give them a caning on their bare ends.
It was a shithole of an existance, this farm life. Kansas was a desolate, flat land which only bread crops and young boys who dreamed of escaping it. And since the depression was about to roll around, the only chance these boys would have to get out of there would be the army. And what a prime time to join the army, as in another decade, there would be another great war to fight. But until these times, the boys would sweat out the hard work and sleep to dream. But it was soon enough that they would find an entirley new fascination: Nanny.
This thirteen-year-old girl from down the way was just what these lonely Kansas boys needed besides a good Coca-Cola kick. Oh sure, they had many other good kicks. Smokin' PawPaw's pipe - that was a good kick. They felt real big and all when they did that. And cleanin' the chickens - that was another good kick. Fuller loved to chop off ther heads and watch the birds run around until Danny finished the job with his foot. They found a lot of good times with the farm animals. Bestiality - that was another good kick. Oh, the boys wouldn't ever admit to it, but they sure enjoyed havin' their way with one of the billy goats they called Zelda. But since Nanny came along, the boys had all forgotten about their crazy kicks. Because now, she was their one and only kick.
They met three times a week. She would ride her horse Jane down the old road and toss a pebble at their window. The boys would sneak out and meet her in the hayloft, where they would make kicks in the candle light. But tonight Nanny didn't seem so eager to have the fun ther boys were hoping for...
"I'm afraid I have some bad news." Nanny told the boys, "I think I might be pregnant."
The news spread around the county fairly fast that Nanny's belly was showing. And soon enough, she was forced to tell her parent's who the father was, as the police were suspecting abuse.
"Now Nanny girl," The Sheriff eased in, "You tell me now who did this to you, or I'm goanna have to be suspectin' it was yo PawPaw."
And this is why the boys had their pants caught around their ankles, enduring some savage caning from Father Workhorse, all the while the Sheriff watching and asking the boys...
"Now you boys better tell me. One of you did it."
Fuller screamed underneath his sobs, "We don't know!"
Thwack!
"You don't speak to the Sheriff like that!" Father Workhorse yelled.
"We don't know, sir." Danny continued for Fuller, "Because we both... we both..."
"Both-a-yas?" The Sheriff strained, and looked at Father Workhorse. Emberrassed, Workhorse only took out his anger on the boys' ends. With that cane. That damn cane.
The boys hated that cane. It seemed that all their lives they'd been afraid of that cane. Just the sight of it made them think of pain.
Thwack!
It was solid wood. An old man's walking cane; the cane of their late grandfather. It was made to be used as a crutch, but Father Workhorse had found a new utility for it. Smashing little boy's behinds in.
"All right Carl," the Sheriff laid a hand on Father Workhorse's shoulder, "that'll be enough. I suppose there's not much the law can do here."
The Sheriff left and father put the cane in it's spot - the umbrella receptacle by the front door. For dinner the boys sat on some cushions that mother had laid down for them. She was nice, but let's not get carried away, she was also a bitch for letting the boys get beat so savagely in the first place. Not to mention she would later indoctrinate the boys with some bible tales before they went to bed and tell them how the only way they could redeem themselves was to become a whore to Christianity.
Mother turns the lights out, leaving the boys to their own thoughts. They were in such severe pain from the beatings. Danny could hear Fuller weep in his bed...
"Hey Fuller, you ok?" Danny whispered.
Fuller sniffles, "I think I'm bleeding."
Danny is angry. He doesn't like to see anybody mess with his brother, even if it's his Father.
"I'm goanna fix that goddamn cane."
Danny and Fuller stand as silently as possible in the foyer, looking at the cane. It sits in the shadows. It's just a piece of wood. It plays innocent, like a gun. But they know that getting rid of that cane would make them feel good, so they pick it up and head out to the barn.
Danny sticks the sceptre in the ground and Fuller pours some gasoline over the top of it. They light a match and set it aflame. The cane lights up the barn, it burns like a column of fire, the flame reaching twice their height. The boys wait and watch it burn like this.
In the warm, red light, the boys' bad memories seem to melt away, and their pain subsides and fades. The flame abruptly extinguishes. They feel new.
But they were expecting ashes. Instead they saw a black cane, as dark as coal, a silhouette of it's predecessor, standing up straight, ready to strike again.
"Why did it stop?"
But then,
The boys hear a snap from behind them. They turn around; it's Nanny.
"What are you doing?" She asks.
"What are you doing?" asks Fuller.
"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry." Nanny can see some blood stains on the seat of Fuller's underwear, "I didn't know that he would hurt you so."
"Well apparently you havn't met our father." Fuller snaps.
"And his cane." Adds Danny.
"Is that what that is?" Asks Nanny.
The boys nod. The cane stands there on it's own, like it's floating. It has a power. The boys hands are drawn to it. They touch it.
"It's cold." says Fuller.
"Really cold." adds Danny.
Fuller smiles, "Let's break it in half."
Danny nods, "Good idea."
They break the cane in half, and a sound that was all too familiar to the boys was heard - like the loudest thwack! in the history of man...
CRACK!
The cane split in two and a dark black orb pulsated between the two sides of the cane. The boys couldn't move, they could only speculate what the hell was going on. The orb sucked in some haystacks - father was going to be pissed. But then the orb started to grow and soon, it engulfed Danny and Fuller.
The orb subsided and the cane became one again. It fell to the floor, clattering. Danny and Fuller were missing. Nanny covered her mouth with a cold pale hand. She took the cane and left.
It was a shithole of an existance, this farm life. Kansas was a desolate, flat land which only bread crops and young boys who dreamed of escaping it. And since the depression was about to roll around, the only chance these boys would have to get out of there would be the army. And what a prime time to join the army, as in another decade, there would be another great war to fight. But until these times, the boys would sweat out the hard work and sleep to dream. But it was soon enough that they would find an entirley new fascination: Nanny.
This thirteen-year-old girl from down the way was just what these lonely Kansas boys needed besides a good Coca-Cola kick. Oh sure, they had many other good kicks. Smokin' PawPaw's pipe - that was a good kick. They felt real big and all when they did that. And cleanin' the chickens - that was another good kick. Fuller loved to chop off ther heads and watch the birds run around until Danny finished the job with his foot. They found a lot of good times with the farm animals. Bestiality - that was another good kick. Oh, the boys wouldn't ever admit to it, but they sure enjoyed havin' their way with one of the billy goats they called Zelda. But since Nanny came along, the boys had all forgotten about their crazy kicks. Because now, she was their one and only kick.
They met three times a week. She would ride her horse Jane down the old road and toss a pebble at their window. The boys would sneak out and meet her in the hayloft, where they would make kicks in the candle light. But tonight Nanny didn't seem so eager to have the fun ther boys were hoping for...
"I'm afraid I have some bad news." Nanny told the boys, "I think I might be pregnant."
The news spread around the county fairly fast that Nanny's belly was showing. And soon enough, she was forced to tell her parent's who the father was, as the police were suspecting abuse.
"Now Nanny girl," The Sheriff eased in, "You tell me now who did this to you, or I'm goanna have to be suspectin' it was yo PawPaw."
And this is why the boys had their pants caught around their ankles, enduring some savage caning from Father Workhorse, all the while the Sheriff watching and asking the boys...
"Now you boys better tell me. One of you did it."
Fuller screamed underneath his sobs, "We don't know!"
Thwack!
"You don't speak to the Sheriff like that!" Father Workhorse yelled.
"We don't know, sir." Danny continued for Fuller, "Because we both... we both..."
"Both-a-yas?" The Sheriff strained, and looked at Father Workhorse. Emberrassed, Workhorse only took out his anger on the boys' ends. With that cane. That damn cane.
The boys hated that cane. It seemed that all their lives they'd been afraid of that cane. Just the sight of it made them think of pain.
Thwack!
It was solid wood. An old man's walking cane; the cane of their late grandfather. It was made to be used as a crutch, but Father Workhorse had found a new utility for it. Smashing little boy's behinds in.
"All right Carl," the Sheriff laid a hand on Father Workhorse's shoulder, "that'll be enough. I suppose there's not much the law can do here."
The Sheriff left and father put the cane in it's spot - the umbrella receptacle by the front door. For dinner the boys sat on some cushions that mother had laid down for them. She was nice, but let's not get carried away, she was also a bitch for letting the boys get beat so savagely in the first place. Not to mention she would later indoctrinate the boys with some bible tales before they went to bed and tell them how the only way they could redeem themselves was to become a whore to Christianity.
Mother turns the lights out, leaving the boys to their own thoughts. They were in such severe pain from the beatings. Danny could hear Fuller weep in his bed...
"Hey Fuller, you ok?" Danny whispered.
Fuller sniffles, "I think I'm bleeding."
Danny is angry. He doesn't like to see anybody mess with his brother, even if it's his Father.
"I'm goanna fix that goddamn cane."
Danny and Fuller stand as silently as possible in the foyer, looking at the cane. It sits in the shadows. It's just a piece of wood. It plays innocent, like a gun. But they know that getting rid of that cane would make them feel good, so they pick it up and head out to the barn.
Danny sticks the sceptre in the ground and Fuller pours some gasoline over the top of it. They light a match and set it aflame. The cane lights up the barn, it burns like a column of fire, the flame reaching twice their height. The boys wait and watch it burn like this.
In the warm, red light, the boys' bad memories seem to melt away, and their pain subsides and fades. The flame abruptly extinguishes. They feel new.
But they were expecting ashes. Instead they saw a black cane, as dark as coal, a silhouette of it's predecessor, standing up straight, ready to strike again.
"Why did it stop?"
But then,
The boys hear a snap from behind them. They turn around; it's Nanny.
"What are you doing?" She asks.
"What are you doing?" asks Fuller.
"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry." Nanny can see some blood stains on the seat of Fuller's underwear, "I didn't know that he would hurt you so."
"Well apparently you havn't met our father." Fuller snaps.
"And his cane." Adds Danny.
"Is that what that is?" Asks Nanny.
The boys nod. The cane stands there on it's own, like it's floating. It has a power. The boys hands are drawn to it. They touch it.
"It's cold." says Fuller.
"Really cold." adds Danny.
Fuller smiles, "Let's break it in half."
Danny nods, "Good idea."
They break the cane in half, and a sound that was all too familiar to the boys was heard - like the loudest thwack! in the history of man...
CRACK!
The cane split in two and a dark black orb pulsated between the two sides of the cane. The boys couldn't move, they could only speculate what the hell was going on. The orb sucked in some haystacks - father was going to be pissed. But then the orb started to grow and soon, it engulfed Danny and Fuller.
The orb subsided and the cane became one again. It fell to the floor, clattering. Danny and Fuller were missing. Nanny covered her mouth with a cold pale hand. She took the cane and left.
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Coal Cane
Soft light pours out an open window of a tree house. Inside, Sven and Dansk sit around a small rudimentary card table made from a Magnavox cardboard box. They're kicking around a game of Sheath-Fuck. Sven shuffles the cards and deals them out.
"He said he's bringing his grandma's cocaine."
Dansk's eyes widened. "You mean, like the drug?"
Sven rolled his eyes, "No, like sugar caine. Duh."
"So we get to try some!?"
"Sheath-Fuck!"
"I'm not fucking the sheath." Dansk is serious, "So are we going to try some?"
"What, are you crazy?"
Dansk thinks about it; he remembers how cool Cole Kane looks with his leather, chains and guitar. "Why not? It's not like we're going to die from it."
"Yeah, but... Come on, man. Shit's crazy." They are silent for a bit, and then Sven remembers, "You just want to do it because of Cole Kane."
Dansk looks at him like crazy, "Psch, whatever. I don't even know him that well."
"He kept you from getting raped by that fat guy. Sheath-Fuck!"
"He wasn't going to rape me."
"Whatever," Sven speculates, "The story said he handled you like a ragdoll, like a helpless boy about to be molested."
Dansk yells, "Sheath-Fuck!"
"I don't know why we even play this game if you aren't going to fuck the sheath."
"Nobody ever fucks the sheath. It's just something funny to yell out. Why do you always take everything so literally? I mean, we don't even have a sheath."
"The sheath is the box for the cards."
There is some rustling below, and then a voice, "Hey, let down the ladder!"
"Here's your cocaine."
Dansk pushes the rope ladder over the edge. Shortly thereafter, Fuckle appears at the entrance with a black cane.
Sven looks at the cane, "What's that?"
"It's the cane I told you about."
"You didn't tell me about a cane."
"Yes I did. My grandma's coal cane."
Dansk looks at Sven, "Coal cane?"
"Ooooh." Sven nods in emberrassment, "I thought you said cocaine."
Fuckle laughs, "What? My grandma's cocaine! Ha ha! I wouldn't be surprised. I'm so glad that bitch is dead."
Sven nods, "Me, too."
Dansk stands up; he looks angry. "So what the fuck are we supposed to do with this cane?"
Fuckle is apprehensive of Dansk's hostility, "It's for my pimp costume, bitch. I suppose you'll be going as a fairy for Holloween?"
"What kind of a cane is made out of coal anyway?" Dansk grabs the cane, "Let me see that."
Fuckle grabs it, "Dont!" But Dansk won't let go of the other end, "Let go! You're going to break it!"
But when Dansk yanked the cane back, it cracked it two.
"FUCK!" Fuckle's yell was the last thing all of them heard.
The cane cracked loud, very loud; a snap as loud as an explosion, and then silence. A ball of dark matter hovered between the two ends of the cane. It seems the boys have opened a portal of some sort.
But Dansk couldn't think, he couldn't move. Neither could Fuckle. But they both saw that Sven was missing. The cards scattered over the makeshift table began to sift and vibrate, floating in mid air; they made their way to the dark matter, slipping into it like nobody's business. Like some high flutin' carpetbaggers, they just up and escaped this mess without even leaving a note or blowing a kiss.
How rude, thought Dansk. And then, for some reason, Dansk could hear what Fuckle was thinking, We're about to get clusterfucked.
How do you know? Dansk was curious.
Total Fucking Silence.
But Fuckle was right, because soon three black orbs emerged from within the dark matter and surrounded the boys. Then those three split into sixes, and the sixes into twelves and so on until they were surrounded by a cluster of small black dots, littering the air like fragments of coal.
Dansk thought the worse was about to come when the matter started to converge back towards the dark matter, but instead they both felt a strong jolt that pulled them towards the center, a crack from the cane and then silence. The orb was gone, and the cane was one again. In the place where it was cracked was a new tier of coal, making the cane about one inch longer than it was before.
Fuckle and Dansk were still holding the cane in utter shock. Dansk let go of the cane slowly, and Fuckle set it down on the ground. They looked over at the table; Sven was still missing, along with the cards. The sheath was the only thing left on the table.
"Maybe," Dansk said in a raspy voice, "he's back in bed."
"You fucking idiot!" Fuckle yells at Dansk, "I told you not to touch it!"
"Like I knew that was going to happen! I mean what the fuck was that?"
"I..." Fucke shakes his head, "I don't know man." Seriously, "We have to find Sven. Where the hell did he go? Fuck!"
Dansk looks out the window, "Wait a second..." He approaches the ledge and looks down; he doesn't see the ground. He looks out; he doesn't see anything. Nothing. He begins to wimper, "Shit, dude."
Fuckle observes, too. It seems that the treehouse is suspended in a void. There is no tree, and there is no seeable ground or other forestry. No stars. No moon.
"I think Sven's probably wondering where we are..."
~
In fact, on the other side, everything was in order, aside from Dansk having broken Fuckle's Grandma's cole cane.
"Jack ass! I was going to fucking use that!"
But even here, things were about to go terribly awry. As Fuckle could not channel his anger in the abscence of physical force, he started after Dansk - he pushed him. And since Dansk was close to the edge, he fell out the tree house, falling in such a way that assured the breaking of his neck. He died instantly.
~
But Dansk was alive back on the other side. And after fifty years of deliberation, the two boys decided to leap into the unknown. Fuckle grabbed the coal cane before they jumped. They held hands as they fell, but at some point, they were torn apart, separated. Dansk didn't know where his friend had gone, but before he was able to worry, he saw that he was approaching a warm, red light.
"He said he's bringing his grandma's cocaine."
Dansk's eyes widened. "You mean, like the drug?"
Sven rolled his eyes, "No, like sugar caine. Duh."
"So we get to try some!?"
"Sheath-Fuck!"
"I'm not fucking the sheath." Dansk is serious, "So are we going to try some?"
"What, are you crazy?"
Dansk thinks about it; he remembers how cool Cole Kane looks with his leather, chains and guitar. "Why not? It's not like we're going to die from it."
"Yeah, but... Come on, man. Shit's crazy." They are silent for a bit, and then Sven remembers, "You just want to do it because of Cole Kane."
Dansk looks at him like crazy, "Psch, whatever. I don't even know him that well."
"He kept you from getting raped by that fat guy. Sheath-Fuck!"
"He wasn't going to rape me."
"Whatever," Sven speculates, "The story said he handled you like a ragdoll, like a helpless boy about to be molested."
Dansk yells, "Sheath-Fuck!"
"I don't know why we even play this game if you aren't going to fuck the sheath."
"Nobody ever fucks the sheath. It's just something funny to yell out. Why do you always take everything so literally? I mean, we don't even have a sheath."
"The sheath is the box for the cards."
There is some rustling below, and then a voice, "Hey, let down the ladder!"
"Here's your cocaine."
Dansk pushes the rope ladder over the edge. Shortly thereafter, Fuckle appears at the entrance with a black cane.
Sven looks at the cane, "What's that?"
"It's the cane I told you about."
"You didn't tell me about a cane."
"Yes I did. My grandma's coal cane."
Dansk looks at Sven, "Coal cane?"
"Ooooh." Sven nods in emberrassment, "I thought you said cocaine."
Fuckle laughs, "What? My grandma's cocaine! Ha ha! I wouldn't be surprised. I'm so glad that bitch is dead."
Sven nods, "Me, too."
Dansk stands up; he looks angry. "So what the fuck are we supposed to do with this cane?"
Fuckle is apprehensive of Dansk's hostility, "It's for my pimp costume, bitch. I suppose you'll be going as a fairy for Holloween?"
"What kind of a cane is made out of coal anyway?" Dansk grabs the cane, "Let me see that."
Fuckle grabs it, "Dont!" But Dansk won't let go of the other end, "Let go! You're going to break it!"
But when Dansk yanked the cane back, it cracked it two.
"FUCK!" Fuckle's yell was the last thing all of them heard.
The cane cracked loud, very loud; a snap as loud as an explosion, and then silence. A ball of dark matter hovered between the two ends of the cane. It seems the boys have opened a portal of some sort.
But Dansk couldn't think, he couldn't move. Neither could Fuckle. But they both saw that Sven was missing. The cards scattered over the makeshift table began to sift and vibrate, floating in mid air; they made their way to the dark matter, slipping into it like nobody's business. Like some high flutin' carpetbaggers, they just up and escaped this mess without even leaving a note or blowing a kiss.
How rude, thought Dansk. And then, for some reason, Dansk could hear what Fuckle was thinking, We're about to get clusterfucked.
How do you know? Dansk was curious.
Total Fucking Silence.
But Fuckle was right, because soon three black orbs emerged from within the dark matter and surrounded the boys. Then those three split into sixes, and the sixes into twelves and so on until they were surrounded by a cluster of small black dots, littering the air like fragments of coal.
Dansk thought the worse was about to come when the matter started to converge back towards the dark matter, but instead they both felt a strong jolt that pulled them towards the center, a crack from the cane and then silence. The orb was gone, and the cane was one again. In the place where it was cracked was a new tier of coal, making the cane about one inch longer than it was before.
Fuckle and Dansk were still holding the cane in utter shock. Dansk let go of the cane slowly, and Fuckle set it down on the ground. They looked over at the table; Sven was still missing, along with the cards. The sheath was the only thing left on the table.
"Maybe," Dansk said in a raspy voice, "he's back in bed."
"You fucking idiot!" Fuckle yells at Dansk, "I told you not to touch it!"
"Like I knew that was going to happen! I mean what the fuck was that?"
"I..." Fucke shakes his head, "I don't know man." Seriously, "We have to find Sven. Where the hell did he go? Fuck!"
Dansk looks out the window, "Wait a second..." He approaches the ledge and looks down; he doesn't see the ground. He looks out; he doesn't see anything. Nothing. He begins to wimper, "Shit, dude."
Fuckle observes, too. It seems that the treehouse is suspended in a void. There is no tree, and there is no seeable ground or other forestry. No stars. No moon.
"I think Sven's probably wondering where we are..."
~
In fact, on the other side, everything was in order, aside from Dansk having broken Fuckle's Grandma's cole cane.
"Jack ass! I was going to fucking use that!"
But even here, things were about to go terribly awry. As Fuckle could not channel his anger in the abscence of physical force, he started after Dansk - he pushed him. And since Dansk was close to the edge, he fell out the tree house, falling in such a way that assured the breaking of his neck. He died instantly.
~
But Dansk was alive back on the other side. And after fifty years of deliberation, the two boys decided to leap into the unknown. Fuckle grabbed the coal cane before they jumped. They held hands as they fell, but at some point, they were torn apart, separated. Dansk didn't know where his friend had gone, but before he was able to worry, he saw that he was approaching a warm, red light.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Cole Kane
Sven and Dansk were less than Freshmæn, but they snuck out of lunch with the best of them; them being the "cool" seventh graders - the ones who took risks. These boys had a small figurative scale in their minds, you see. This scale weighed the risks relatively accurate, however it should be noted that one side of the scale was saturated with peer pressure and the overwhelming need/ desire to be cool. This was the side that always tipped down further than the other side - the one which would tell the boys that they could be punnished for their mid-day escapes. Though it could be argued that what the boys really desired was that feeling of freedom.
The boys chowed on Wendy's fries smothered in katsup and sipped that caffeinated syrup called cola, turning their pink stomachs into a cauldron of potential indigestion - no doubt they would feel the effects of such a lucrative meal on the bus ride home. At this approximate time of day, it was bad to be an adult who wished to spend their luncheon inside the Wendy's, as the commotion of a dozen thirteen year old boys would surley raise any sane man's blood pressure. It might not be out of anger from the noise, but from the disappointment he feels; he may not have been so adventurous in his youth.
One of these men, Glenn, sits across from the boy's, his back to them. He doesn't want them to see his old face, or his Fry's nametag. He was alone, and at the moment, felt like something terrible as his presence strongly contrasted with the vibrent youth that was behind him. They were young, had prospects, and were still having at their first chance in life. While Glenn was a desolate plain of deforestation, they still had a flourishing, blossoming ecosystem. Just wait till you get out of college, Glenn muttered to himself. If they're lucky, he thought, the world will be Mad Max by then. Little bastards.
One of the more obnoxious boys holds up his empty fry carton and waves it in the air, "I fancy a second set!"
Sven and Dansk mostly keep to themselves; they are close friends. Dansk asks Sven if he's ready to go back to school, as the High Schoolers will be in soon. Sven looks at the other boys; it doesn't seem like they're ready to go.
"Let's wait until everyone leaves."
"OK." Dansk gets up and heads for the restroom.
He thinks in the stall; Dansk knows about the High Schoolers and what they're capable of. They could do a variety of things. For example, at the moment, Dansk was imagining being made fun of by one of the older High Schoolers. His younger friends would laugh, as they would have no choice. Unless, of course, Cole Kane was there...
The doors to Wendy's burst open - it's Cole Kane. He's still smoking inside, even though it's not allowed.
"You can't smoke in here!" Yells the manager.
But Cole just turns his head and says in a deep, gravely voice, "I know." He continues to walk; his leather jacket doesn't make a sound - he's worn it so much it's like Cashmere. The keys to his Camaro jingle on his side, clanking against his Zippo lighter with Kurt Cobain's face embossed on the side. Cole exhales. A smoke ring outlines his face like a halo. He hasn't shaved. He is, without a doubt, Dansk's hero.
"Something funny?" Everybody stops laughing. Kane's voice is soft but powerful. The High Schooler that took of Dansk's kipot and put it on his head is now a bit remorseful for his actions. He takes the small, round Jewish cap off and sets it on the table next to Dansk.
Cole steps foreward, "I don't think that's where that goes, Bro."
Bro takes the cap and places it, reluctantly, on Dansk's head.
"You think making fun of Jewish people is funny, Bro?"
"No, man - I was just giving him a hard time, that's all."
Cole sucks his cigarette; he's thinking. And then he blows the smoke in Bro's face. "Hard time?"
Bro doesn't know what to say. The fact is, Cole always makes it hard for people to have something to say.
Cole continues, "You say something about hard time?"
"Yeah, like a joke..."
"I don't want to hear anything from you about hard time. Because you don't know what hard time is, Bro."
"I'm not talking about jail, Cole..."
"Well then you aint hearing me clear are you? Because hard time, jail or jokes, it's never a good time for the person who's in it." Cole puts his hand on Dansk's shoulder. "It's easy time for this kid, Bro."
"OK."
~
When Dansk finished in the restroom, he exited only to find in shock, a band of High School kids sitting at the table his friends were at. They had arrived in a rumble of internal combustion and squealing tyres. Because of this, they always showed up without warning.
They left me. Dansk thought to himself in horror. The bastards left me. But Dansk figured they couldn't be too far away. And surely Sven is waiting in some dark corner somewhere for him. So Dansk headed silently out the door, only to run into one of the late coming High Schoolers. Strait into her chest.
"Watch it little perv." she said.
"Sorry."
Dansk dashed out of the Wendy's and towards the alley. In the distance, he could see his friends. But he was suddenly, without warning, taken from behind by some unknown person. It wasn't Sven, he thought, as the person was too powerful. I could be a High Schooler, but when Dansk turned around, the first thing he saw was a nametag that said Glenn in italics.
Some man, Dansk thought, is grabbing me. He might have been in the retail business, but he handled Dansk like a ragdoll, like a helpless boy about to be molested.
"Hel..."
But his mouth was suddenly covered, and his body being taken into a dark place behind a dumpster. When suddenly...
"Aaaah!"
Dansk was released, and he ran fast, but he turned around to see what had happened. And when he saw, he was in fact so ecstatic - it was Cole Kane, with a syringe into Glenn's neck. Some footsteps were approaching - those of his so-called-friends for which he sacrificed his safety to impress so often. But here was Cole Kane, a teenager which Dansk didn't even know, who was killing a man for his safety.
Glenn moaned and weeped, while Cole let his body slip onto the ground easily, respectfully, as if he had won the fight fairly. Cole held his arm - it was bleeding.
"Are you ok?" Dansk asked Cole.
"Heh..." Cole was kind of delirious, "was just about to... well, you don't need to know, kid. I'm fine."
All the boy's approached the scene; they were silent and scared and confused. What with the man with a syringe in his jugular.
"He won't be waking up any time soon," Cole told them, "he's got enough cocaine in his system to kill a man."
"Thanks for saving me." Dansk said; they pounded fists.
"No, bro. You saved me. You see that needle - that was for me."
"You were going to kill yourself?"
Cole pulls out a cigarette and lights up, "When you're my age, you see the world in a whole new shitty light." He reaches behind the dumpster and retrieves a Fender Stratocaster. He pulls out a pick from the strings and begins to strum and sing...
Just a kid.
Just a kiddie kid.
I told my daddy "I...
think I'm goanna cry.
My momma's dead...
she shot her fuckin' head."
He said "Cole Kain...
take some pro-pain,
take some low-pain,
take some cocaine..."
The boys chowed on Wendy's fries smothered in katsup and sipped that caffeinated syrup called cola, turning their pink stomachs into a cauldron of potential indigestion - no doubt they would feel the effects of such a lucrative meal on the bus ride home. At this approximate time of day, it was bad to be an adult who wished to spend their luncheon inside the Wendy's, as the commotion of a dozen thirteen year old boys would surley raise any sane man's blood pressure. It might not be out of anger from the noise, but from the disappointment he feels; he may not have been so adventurous in his youth.
One of these men, Glenn, sits across from the boy's, his back to them. He doesn't want them to see his old face, or his Fry's nametag. He was alone, and at the moment, felt like something terrible as his presence strongly contrasted with the vibrent youth that was behind him. They were young, had prospects, and were still having at their first chance in life. While Glenn was a desolate plain of deforestation, they still had a flourishing, blossoming ecosystem. Just wait till you get out of college, Glenn muttered to himself. If they're lucky, he thought, the world will be Mad Max by then. Little bastards.
One of the more obnoxious boys holds up his empty fry carton and waves it in the air, "I fancy a second set!"
Sven and Dansk mostly keep to themselves; they are close friends. Dansk asks Sven if he's ready to go back to school, as the High Schoolers will be in soon. Sven looks at the other boys; it doesn't seem like they're ready to go.
"Let's wait until everyone leaves."
"OK." Dansk gets up and heads for the restroom.
He thinks in the stall; Dansk knows about the High Schoolers and what they're capable of. They could do a variety of things. For example, at the moment, Dansk was imagining being made fun of by one of the older High Schoolers. His younger friends would laugh, as they would have no choice. Unless, of course, Cole Kane was there...
The doors to Wendy's burst open - it's Cole Kane. He's still smoking inside, even though it's not allowed.
"You can't smoke in here!" Yells the manager.
But Cole just turns his head and says in a deep, gravely voice, "I know." He continues to walk; his leather jacket doesn't make a sound - he's worn it so much it's like Cashmere. The keys to his Camaro jingle on his side, clanking against his Zippo lighter with Kurt Cobain's face embossed on the side. Cole exhales. A smoke ring outlines his face like a halo. He hasn't shaved. He is, without a doubt, Dansk's hero.
"Something funny?" Everybody stops laughing. Kane's voice is soft but powerful. The High Schooler that took of Dansk's kipot and put it on his head is now a bit remorseful for his actions. He takes the small, round Jewish cap off and sets it on the table next to Dansk.
Cole steps foreward, "I don't think that's where that goes, Bro."
Bro takes the cap and places it, reluctantly, on Dansk's head.
"You think making fun of Jewish people is funny, Bro?"
"No, man - I was just giving him a hard time, that's all."
Cole sucks his cigarette; he's thinking. And then he blows the smoke in Bro's face. "Hard time?"
Bro doesn't know what to say. The fact is, Cole always makes it hard for people to have something to say.
Cole continues, "You say something about hard time?"
"Yeah, like a joke..."
"I don't want to hear anything from you about hard time. Because you don't know what hard time is, Bro."
"I'm not talking about jail, Cole..."
"Well then you aint hearing me clear are you? Because hard time, jail or jokes, it's never a good time for the person who's in it." Cole puts his hand on Dansk's shoulder. "It's easy time for this kid, Bro."
"OK."
~
When Dansk finished in the restroom, he exited only to find in shock, a band of High School kids sitting at the table his friends were at. They had arrived in a rumble of internal combustion and squealing tyres. Because of this, they always showed up without warning.
They left me. Dansk thought to himself in horror. The bastards left me. But Dansk figured they couldn't be too far away. And surely Sven is waiting in some dark corner somewhere for him. So Dansk headed silently out the door, only to run into one of the late coming High Schoolers. Strait into her chest.
"Watch it little perv." she said.
"Sorry."
Dansk dashed out of the Wendy's and towards the alley. In the distance, he could see his friends. But he was suddenly, without warning, taken from behind by some unknown person. It wasn't Sven, he thought, as the person was too powerful. I could be a High Schooler, but when Dansk turned around, the first thing he saw was a nametag that said Glenn in italics.
Some man, Dansk thought, is grabbing me. He might have been in the retail business, but he handled Dansk like a ragdoll, like a helpless boy about to be molested.
"Hel..."
But his mouth was suddenly covered, and his body being taken into a dark place behind a dumpster. When suddenly...
"Aaaah!"
Dansk was released, and he ran fast, but he turned around to see what had happened. And when he saw, he was in fact so ecstatic - it was Cole Kane, with a syringe into Glenn's neck. Some footsteps were approaching - those of his so-called-friends for which he sacrificed his safety to impress so often. But here was Cole Kane, a teenager which Dansk didn't even know, who was killing a man for his safety.
Glenn moaned and weeped, while Cole let his body slip onto the ground easily, respectfully, as if he had won the fight fairly. Cole held his arm - it was bleeding.
"Are you ok?" Dansk asked Cole.
"Heh..." Cole was kind of delirious, "was just about to... well, you don't need to know, kid. I'm fine."
All the boy's approached the scene; they were silent and scared and confused. What with the man with a syringe in his jugular.
"He won't be waking up any time soon," Cole told them, "he's got enough cocaine in his system to kill a man."
"Thanks for saving me." Dansk said; they pounded fists.
"No, bro. You saved me. You see that needle - that was for me."
"You were going to kill yourself?"
Cole pulls out a cigarette and lights up, "When you're my age, you see the world in a whole new shitty light." He reaches behind the dumpster and retrieves a Fender Stratocaster. He pulls out a pick from the strings and begins to strum and sing...
Just a kid.
Just a kiddie kid.
I told my daddy "I...
think I'm goanna cry.
My momma's dead...
she shot her fuckin' head."
He said "Cole Kain...
take some pro-pain,
take some low-pain,
take some cocaine..."
Friday, February 17, 2006
The Silent Treatment
"Let me first point out that Dickerson is a complete ponce."
Blocsworth is steamed, in the Hague, and out of control; he is yelling to his boss, Klapp, about his son (though Blocsworth doesn't know that Dickerson is his own son, since Klapp has unprotected sex with alot of people.)
"This motherfucker levitates..." he has lost it, "he shits his his chair, and it stinks. It stinks real bad. It stinks with an X."
Stinx. It's too bad that Blocsworth ate some of that buffet earlier, since the steak was embedded with shredded Bull Stock. When Blocsworth eats Bull Stock, he becomes irate.
Klapp is perplexed, "What's the matter with levitating?"
"Who the fuck levitates? Nobody. This motherfucker levitates just because he knows that everyone will look at him and say, ooh I wish I could levitate above my chair. That's why he can shit in it! Because he doesn't have to sit in it!"
"I've never seen Dickerson levitate. Nor have I seen him deficate - since he was a boy, at least."
"You know Dickerson As A Boy?"
"Of course I do. I'm his father."
~
Klapp hated changing Dickerson's diaper, but it had to be done since Dickerson was only a baby that poo poo'd all over his bum bum. He opens the diaper...
"Shit."
He shouldn't learn the word shit this early, Klapp speculates.
~
"Shit!" A Ten Year Old Dickerson yells this as his dad walks in the bathroom; Dickerson was on the toilet. "Daaad! Don't you knock!"
"Sorry." Klapp stumbles and closes the door. He wonders for a moment if he should scold the boy for cursing, but Klapp decides against it, a decision which was based purley on his unconscious instincts.
Shit, A Ten Year Old Dickerson thinks to himself after his dad leaves the bathroom. Should I apologize for cursing?
"Sorry" Dickerson says aloud.
Klapp wonders for a moment if he should pretend he wasn't there by not answering, but instead he decides to answer, "It's ok, son. It was a decision you made purley on your unconscious instincts."
~
Dickerson hated changing his son Rockwell's diaper, so he gets the house android La La to do it. The robot opens the diaper...
Total Fucking Silence.
~
"Blocsworth," Klapp continues, "I think I have a good remedy for your problem."
Klapp claps his hands, and two Gentlemen in Suits enter the office.
"Gentlemen, give him the Silent Treatment."
The Silent Treatment is a culmination of many operations which will result in Blocsworth's silence. They first seal his lips with a Khys. A Khys is a device which prevents the jaw from moving. It is basically a metal cage affixed to Blocsworth's mouth. It slips on with no resistance.
Blocksworth did not resist because the Gentlemen in Suits gave him a Grace Period, which is a small, round pill that is administered orally and dissolves in the stomach within seconds of ingestion. There is no time for the subject to resist the effects of the Grace Period; he falls into total compliance within one half of a minute.
To maintain his silence for a long period of time, the Gentlemen will make sure that Blocsworth's body is concealed within a custom styrofoam mold, placed in a casket and buried six feet beneath the ground in a cemetary, below an area which will have a stone with some information about his person on it. It will have a date, the first date Blocksworth's birth and the second the date he was placed in the casket.
~
Klapp is sitting on a toilet in one of the stalls at work. Nobody else is in the restroom; he is at peace. He is an older man, so he takes his time.
Creek; the restroom door opens.
"Shit." Klapp says silently.
BAM! The stall door bursts open. Dickerson stands in the entrance.
"Oh! Sorry!" Dickerson closes the door, emberassed and disgusted all at once. He waits for his dad to say something.
Nothing.
He walks into the handicapped stall next to his father. A thin piece of wood separates the two. Dickerson still tries to break the deafning silence...
"Didn't know you were in there."
Nothing. But Dickerson persists...
"What? You giving me the silent treatment?"
~
Dickerson watched his father's casket ease into the ground. He held his son Rockwell in his arms, until he sensed that the little boy had messed his pants.
Shit.
He scared him to death.
Blocsworth is steamed, in the Hague, and out of control; he is yelling to his boss, Klapp, about his son (though Blocsworth doesn't know that Dickerson is his own son, since Klapp has unprotected sex with alot of people.)
"This motherfucker levitates..." he has lost it, "he shits his his chair, and it stinks. It stinks real bad. It stinks with an X."
Stinx. It's too bad that Blocsworth ate some of that buffet earlier, since the steak was embedded with shredded Bull Stock. When Blocsworth eats Bull Stock, he becomes irate.
Klapp is perplexed, "What's the matter with levitating?"
"Who the fuck levitates? Nobody. This motherfucker levitates just because he knows that everyone will look at him and say, ooh I wish I could levitate above my chair. That's why he can shit in it! Because he doesn't have to sit in it!"
"I've never seen Dickerson levitate. Nor have I seen him deficate - since he was a boy, at least."
"You know Dickerson As A Boy?"
"Of course I do. I'm his father."
~
Klapp hated changing Dickerson's diaper, but it had to be done since Dickerson was only a baby that poo poo'd all over his bum bum. He opens the diaper...
"Shit."
He shouldn't learn the word shit this early, Klapp speculates.
~
"Shit!" A Ten Year Old Dickerson yells this as his dad walks in the bathroom; Dickerson was on the toilet. "Daaad! Don't you knock!"
"Sorry." Klapp stumbles and closes the door. He wonders for a moment if he should scold the boy for cursing, but Klapp decides against it, a decision which was based purley on his unconscious instincts.
Shit, A Ten Year Old Dickerson thinks to himself after his dad leaves the bathroom. Should I apologize for cursing?
"Sorry" Dickerson says aloud.
Klapp wonders for a moment if he should pretend he wasn't there by not answering, but instead he decides to answer, "It's ok, son. It was a decision you made purley on your unconscious instincts."
~
Dickerson hated changing his son Rockwell's diaper, so he gets the house android La La to do it. The robot opens the diaper...
Total Fucking Silence.
~
"Blocsworth," Klapp continues, "I think I have a good remedy for your problem."
Klapp claps his hands, and two Gentlemen in Suits enter the office.
"Gentlemen, give him the Silent Treatment."
The Silent Treatment is a culmination of many operations which will result in Blocsworth's silence. They first seal his lips with a Khys. A Khys is a device which prevents the jaw from moving. It is basically a metal cage affixed to Blocsworth's mouth. It slips on with no resistance.
Blocksworth did not resist because the Gentlemen in Suits gave him a Grace Period, which is a small, round pill that is administered orally and dissolves in the stomach within seconds of ingestion. There is no time for the subject to resist the effects of the Grace Period; he falls into total compliance within one half of a minute.
To maintain his silence for a long period of time, the Gentlemen will make sure that Blocsworth's body is concealed within a custom styrofoam mold, placed in a casket and buried six feet beneath the ground in a cemetary, below an area which will have a stone with some information about his person on it. It will have a date, the first date Blocksworth's birth and the second the date he was placed in the casket.
~
Klapp is sitting on a toilet in one of the stalls at work. Nobody else is in the restroom; he is at peace. He is an older man, so he takes his time.
Creek; the restroom door opens.
"Shit." Klapp says silently.
BAM! The stall door bursts open. Dickerson stands in the entrance.
"Oh! Sorry!" Dickerson closes the door, emberassed and disgusted all at once. He waits for his dad to say something.
Nothing.
He walks into the handicapped stall next to his father. A thin piece of wood separates the two. Dickerson still tries to break the deafning silence...
"Didn't know you were in there."
Nothing. But Dickerson persists...
"What? You giving me the silent treatment?"
~
Dickerson watched his father's casket ease into the ground. He held his son Rockwell in his arms, until he sensed that the little boy had messed his pants.
Shit.
He scared him to death.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)