Physiac

DORF

2010-10-02T03:07:00.001-07:00

Do you know who Jonathan Dorf is?

Once upon a time I sent him an email asking for help;

CHAD TO DORF:

What do I do?!

My play has no dialouge. NO DIALOUGE.

What is wrong with me?

I imagine these scenes being played out with music, but will that work?

Do I hire a band..or...learn to play the french horn? I don't know.

Silent plays can't work can they? With all of those quiet coughs and awkward shuffling noises?

Is there a way to fix this?

Help me, please.

C. young

And here is what that bastard sent in reply;

DORF TO CHAD:

I'm sorry, but I tend to respond far better to simple, polite requests for assistance than attempts to be witty through email. Good luck.

JD

...

In my defense...I was trying to be witty for HIS BENEFIT. I'm sure he gets hundreds of emails a day- I was just trying to entertain him a little.

Anyway...Jonathan Dorf is an asshole.

-Chad

Cor.inth.ia

2009-03-19T06:13:00.000-07:00

# 1 The plaque for all decks on each ship in the fleet.

“What are these?
These bright and succinct
Intrepid substitutions for eager
& of fundament earth

Oi

An Aperoi Kosmoi
That darks and in hidden fields
Of a heavens and in heavens guard
In boundlessly
Panned-groundless-leave
Of all earths
And of all the old earthsly devices

2. & the “She sings along strings for her breeze.”

Is the name of the mighty
And the plumed incendre
and the eleven-80 ‘rare-ore- battle doll
of the Orbiting Warvoyant Fleet

& she sings for them.
She sings in casual exchange for
Faithful worship as a star
In expanding assembly
That’s finite in expansion
But starry all the same

3. Like Rock & Roll & Spaceships..

are not meant for
Self-depreciation

or for pity

or for blind and dutiful obedience
to extra-terrestrial tyranny and oppression

They are

meant to isolate such things
and to
Bleed them out of being through
Fury and photon sweet catharsis

& through
powerful insights into the
nature of their
creator
who built them up with violence
from the neigh

4. A reference page for hunting grays..

Reticuli ain't Real
( Little Liar )
( Little Master )
in like little way cigar
she / they
TAKE US O-
U T
F
O r
dinner
for cheese and for rich cinnamons, & for
old, sun-dried black oceans for
Almonds & eyes

& for little talk ( at banquet ) they tap, tap tapping
at the glasses of our wine with
ee-eerie baby vacillating digits
that are curling of malevolent councils therein

Lo.
They;
smoke from
strange cigars by
sine into gravities sleep
out to joyless stacks of air, we
they dates for dinner to drink they
awful celebration tossed to morning.

This is the bridge of a starship (the 11-80 incendre, to be precice)
and it's crew have just begun trickling into afternoon formation.

# What Apple Baums can purchase
being waitresses
being secretly seen in saucers
or as secret occupants upon them, as food

Sergeant Major snaps to sttention as The Captain saunters onto the bridge.

Sergeant Major Teinnn HUUNNHH

The Captain salutes his Sergeant Major.

Captain -at ease

Bodies slacken.

The Captain looks at # and takes a deep and troubled breath.

# Food. Not so important. Sleep. important than food
but nothing space may take into it's side
Reticuli.

The soldiers seem uneasy at the sound of vauge poetics in place of
official orders.

Captain (controlled calm) Push

All of the enlisted men (with the exception of the Sergeant Major)
fall to their stomachs and begin to do push ups.

Captain Push, Officers.

The officers follow suit.

Only the Captain and his Sergeant major are left standing. They face
each other- then the Captain begins to walk amongst the men.

Captain We, all of us left our homes together. We left at the same with the very same belongings to our name. We all had the same kind of..cookie cutter, cum dumpster wives or girlfriends who we gave away all of our things to- all of our money. & we figured that we'd never see them or our stuff ever again because we all knew what we were getting into. We chose to go. & we made that descision ourselves. Because we wanted to be heroes and to save the world. Because we're soldiers, not cowards & because we'd rather die fighting than to be taken from our homes into some..cock sucking tea saucer to be perversly mutilated by little gray faggot alien psychopaths- Cowering behind their technology, daring to fuck with our planet. Should we give up and turn our fleet around?

Soldiers No, sir!

Captain Does anyone here want to surrender himself to a cunting civilization that is two days from violent and unspeakable annihlation?

Soldiers No, Sir!

A soldier Fuck no, Sir!

Captain After 7 1/2 years of hatefull advance through cold and empty
space to the heart of our enemy- Should we trade our revenge for fear?

(Violent Uproar)

Captain Or do we make them pay for what they've done to our familes?

(Terrible vilent uproar)

Captain To our friends? To our species?

(Awful uproar)

GL/GA (Hard Traveling Heroes)

2009-03-15T02:34:00.000-07:00

Characters
Hal Jordan (The Green Lantern)
Oliver Queen (The Green Arrow)
Dinah Laurel Lance (The Black Canary)
Appa Ali Apsa (A Guardian)

Scene
Hal Jordan and Oliver Queen are riding in the cab of an old beaten truck. Appa Ali Apsa sits in the back.

Time
Late Day.

OLIVER

People need balance, not supervision.

HAL

Hippy bullshit, Ollie. Justice dictates balance. People need law.

OLIVER

-say's the guy with a magic ring in his pocket. Jesus, man- you put that thing on and people have to answer to you. But where's your law? What keeps you in check? Him? That little blue alien Nazi in the back of my truck?

HAL

Don't…judge people by the color of their skin.

OLIVER

What people? That thing isn't even native to this universe, man… my racial compassion is.
And the goddamn thing is terrified of the color yellow; It horrifies him. That is BUCK WILD.

HAL

Oh, stop.

OLIVER

They segregated color, Hal. Not skin color or hair color- just color. Do you know how crazy that sounds?

HAL

It's more complicated than that.

OLIVER

You got drowned out. What'd you say?

HAL

I said things are more complicated than what you make them out to be.

OLIVER

…and that's all I was trying to say.

HAL

Oh, you sonofabitch. You're little circular logic trick doesn't-

OLIVER

-what? It doesn't what? Apply?

HAL

Now your putting words in my mouth.

OLIVER

You damn right I am. Cause that's how you eat; you chew a carrot and think that's the way everything is supposed to taste, and Hal- you're a genius at finding carrots…but it's more complicated than that and you should know- It doesn't matter if you accessorize with magic rings or 300 dollar sunglasses: You're still a human being… and not everything tastes like carrot.

HAL

Archery is for women.

OLIVER

I guess that's why I'm swimming in tail. How's the ass in space?

HAL

Hey, at least I can fly if I want…and not slither along behind you know who- stealing all of his stuff.

OLIVER

That's preposterous. I'm nothing like that guy.

HAL

You're right, of course- you're right. I'm sorry. I guess I'm just reacting.

OLIVER

No need to apologize. I never said you weren't reason-

HAL

-how's the arrow cave, Ollie?
(OLIVER turns the radio up. HAL reaches over and turns it off.)

HAL

Do you still hide your arrow-mobile there? I bet it's hard to see the arrow-signal while you're still inside the arrow-cave, huh? Since it's so dark and mysterious inside?

OLIVER

Maybe let's listen to some music-

HAL

-why? So you can steal it and pretend like you made it up on the guitar?

(OLIVER clears his throat.)

HAL

You know that guy could sue the shit out of you if he didn't have a secret identity to protect. I mean, that's his intellectual property- it's not free like water and air or peppermint candies; It's a tangible, copy written gain and…you just robbed it from him. You plagiarized the poor guy because he couldn't do anything about it and then pretended like it never even happened . I don't even know if there's a legal term for something that awful.

OLIVER

Okay. Time to move on, now.

HAL

I call it 'Grand Theft 'Somebody Else's Ideas'…you probably know it as 'Monday'.

OLIVER

New Topic.

(Shot of Appa Ali Apsa sitting in the back of the truck. Muffled Conversation from inside.)
(Back inside)

OLIVER

You want to stop and let your monkey back in?

HAL gasps.
OLIVER

What? It's cold outside. It might catch the bird flu. Nothing worse than a monkey with the bird flu.

HAL

You've gone too far.
(Another shot of Appa Ali Apsa sitting in the back of the truck. Muffled conversation from the inside.)

(Then back inside the cab)
HAL

He could wink you out of existence, Oliver. Pay him that respect.

OLIVER

He smells like tortilla chips and cotton-candy- like feet, corn-chips and carnival food. That's his scent…

HAL

Stop it, Oliver.

OLIVER

Alright, man- but seriously…I need to know if it's up to date on it's shots…because that could affect me.

(Shot of Appa in the back of the truck. Muffled conversation.)

(Then back inside)

HAL

You just don't know when to stop, do you? You just keep playing the joke until it's only funny to you. You're an asshole.

OLIVER

Oh, calm down. I didn't realize you'd- (he looks worriedly into the rearview mirror) Oh shit. (He twists in a panic to look at Appa Ali in the back of the truck)

HAL

What is it?
OLIVER

I dunno! It looks like he's Choking or something! What do I do?

HAL

(Panicked. Knocking on the glass.) APPA! APPA! (He turns back to Oliver) Are you sure? How can you tell? Pull Over!

OLIVER

Just Look At Him, Man! Look at what color he is!

(Long pause. Hals Jordan's face darkens with rage.)

OLIVER

You're really sweet on that monkey, huh?

(Shot of Appa in the back of the truck. Muffled screaming from inside.)
(Then back inside)

HAL

Total Lack of Respect!

OLIVER

Look! Maybe you shouldn't take your doll collection so seriously.

HAL

This is about to get violent.

OLIVER

Oh, I'd better be quiet, then.

HAL

Just shut up…
(Long pause)
OLIVER

Why so blue, man?
(HAL takes a long stuttering breath.)

OLIVER

It's like a physical pain, huh? Because of how sharp my wit is.

(Appa knocks at the window. Oliver opens it.)

APPA

We will stay at the Showcase motel located 3 kilometers north by north west of-
(Oliver shuts the window)

OLIVER

So, I'm gonna drop you off at the motel, let you cool off, hit the pool- because you're obviously pissed off at me…for no good reason. Then I'm gonna hit the bar; have a couple of beers, maybe eat a hamburger. Are you hungry? No? More for me…and check it out- NO PETS ALLOWED: So one of us needs to take your Muppet back to sesame street before it closes for the weekend.

(Oliver opens the back window.) Did you hear that, buzz-kill?

APPA

I hear all thin-
(Oliver shuts the window.)

BLACK. TITLE CARD.

OPENING CREDITS.

The Punk-Rock Suicide Companion

2008-02-14T11:23:00.000-08:00

Antigone Wrecks (Daughter of Eddie Wrecks)
IS-MEAN (Antigones Sister)
Kreon (The current King of 1980's Punk-Rock)
Furry-Dice (Kreons Wife)
Hymen (Kreons stepson...grudgingly. Meek and obsessed with Antigone)
T-Rhesus (Ed Wrecks' old Heroin Dealer- slumming new blood for new buisness.)
Tennis Pro Dennis and his Tennis Companions (Choragos and Chourus.)
Marco the Narco Sentry
and Him
Referenced Characters of note
Eddie Wrecks (Antigones Pop and the long gone king of punk rock.)
Antigone and IS-MEAN's two recently deceased brothers..
Seargant Paulie Neices & Punk Rock ETOK, who killed one another after a show.

Prolouge

Scene
Kreons Los Angelos shanty is nested between the towering fences of a nearby country-club and the open fields of unmarked graves that are the property of a local cemetary. Antigone and her sister IS-MEAN are sitting on old faded lawn chairs that are dug into Kreons parched and unkempt lawn. ANtigone is listening to music that headphones that IS-MEAN has forcibly put on her head.

Time
One week after a deadly televised knockdown between 30 cops and nearly 500 angry punk-rockers who were orders to leave Kreons sold-out friday night show because of noise complaints and an overcrowded auditorium. Tennis Pro Dennis and his Five companions enter Kreons yrad through a gate which connects to the country club. Dennis Addresses the crowd in a monotone sing-song voice.

T.P Dennis- I am Dennis. I play Tennis. Pro-fes-ionaly!

Tennis companions (w/o t.P)- ((Tennis - Pro - Dennis...Pro-fess-ional Play-er of Tennis))

T.P Dennis- but before I play tennis..

Tennis Companions- ((and believe us, this man can play Tennis!!)) [long pause] PRO-FESSIONALY!))

T.P Dennis- I must tell you the tale of the...the one that came...y'know before...

Tennis Companions- (("A Tale of the previous Tale! Yes, a Tale of the previous Tale!))

T.P Dennis- The story is set,

Tennis Companions- ((..In the mid 1980's))

T.P Dennis- At the heigth,

Tennis Companions- ((Of THE MIGHTY PUNK ROCK!))

Tennis Pro Dennis- Where Antigone Wrecks,

Tennis Companions- ((The one with a scarf on her neck.))

T.P Dennis- Sits with his sister, IS-MEAN..

Tennis Companions- A NICK NAME, A NICK NAME,
SO FITTING, SO TRUE
SUCH A BITCH THAT 'IS-BITCH'
WOULD BE BETTER

T.P Dennis- Daughters both of the old, punk-rock king.

Tennis Companions- He suzerain master of rock and disaster,
The ex-best lost King eddie Wrecks

T.P Dennis-

Eddie Wrecks was the undisputed King of Hardcore, Straight edge punk-rock music
until, ironicaly his struggles with wreckless heroin abuse led to the cold-blooded strangulation of his alcoholic father- and to a confused and ill-fated union with his own mother, who- through life long drug abuse had become somewhat retarded and thus, unable to differentiate her son from her lover.
In 1982, during a televised charity event for teenage drug-abuse awareness- Was was able to shoot two full syringes of black tar heroin, simultaneously and on live television, into each of his eyeballs before collapsing in a total cardiac arrest to the floor. The governer of California, a keynot speaker at the event was the first to begin ressecitive efforts on the unconcious, and technicaly dead king Rex.
During mouth to mouth reccesitation, there was an almost inperceptible 2 1/2 second blur where, in a single movement Ed Wrecks manged all at once; to come alive- vomit, passionatly into the governers mouth- deliver a rib shattering blow to both breasts of Sacramentos most esteemed deputy director of arts and entertainment- and then turn back with the last wisp of precious breath in his body, to inform the shaken governer that his 12 year old daughter was a whore.

The Edd(e)n(a)uts

2008-01-27T09:29:00.003-08:00

Characters

[A / n(a) T / n(t) G / n(g)]

Austin / Narrator (Austin) Tori / Narrator (Tori) Guard / Narrator (Guard)

Scene

An underground bunker somewhere in the desert: A foreign guard leads a bound woman into the center of the room and then punches her in the face. She collapses, unconscious- onto the floor. The guard exits.

There are three narrators downstage; a heavyset man N (Austin), a young woman N (Tori), and another, taller man N (Guard). They all begin speaking but we can only hear the heavier man. The other two appear to be mouthing conversations to the audience, but for now, when one of them speaks- the voices of the other two cannot be heard.

n (a) My wife’s name is Tori. She’s the blonde that just got club punched in the side of the head. I’m right behind her, I think.

[The guard returns to violently usher a masked man into the very center of the room.]
n (a) There I am. The fat American aid worker with a hundred and three degree fever in the desert. They won’t need to punch me. I’ll fold right up.

[The man collapses onto the ground beside his wife. The guard exits.]
n (a) My name is Austin- and I, along with my wife, have just been captured by terrorists in the middle of a desert in the North-West

region of Iran. I think I may also have the flu- which is unfortunate because I’m pretty sure this organization won’t accept my insurance card. If I even have it on me. Am I covered in radical Islam? Do I pay premiums for that? I’m not really sure. I hope they

have my wallet.
[Long beat. Low moan. The woman inches painfully towards her husband and whispers something incoherent into his ear.]

n (a) I can’t understand a fucking word that’s coming out of her mouth.

She sounds drunk. Her words are slurring together and she’s talking like a three year old. It must be brain damage. Subdural

Hematoma from the IED- some sort of trauma from the-

there’s my wallet!

[The guard walks into the room and sits on a chair away from the bodies- shuffling through the contents of a leather wallet. The taller narrator begins to speak. The heavyset

Narrator is still talking- but we cannot hear what he’s saying.]

n (g) -won’t tell you about how terrible everything was.

But I grew up in the desert…raised in this awful place.

The only book I’ve ever read is the- /

n (t) / -married him in the spring. So young and stupid.

I loved how he loved the world. I loved the adventure.

He was just so- /
n (g) -is he going to do with a diners club card in the middle of the desert? Ridiculous.
[The guard stands up and kicks the man in the stomach. His wife lets out a muffled scream.]
n (a) Thank you for saving the world. Your prize awaits.

I should have been a zealot.
[The guard approaches the camcorder.]
n (g) -how does this abomination turn on?

Is it the red button? No that’s stop. Play, no.

Pause. Okay, I think this is….Fuck, I /

n (a) / -smile when I see that it’s the camcorder from our truck;

that they set it up in the center of the room- it’s almost - /

n (t) / -such a headache. And that’s just from the blunt force trauma.

I still won’t be able to have kids if I ever get home Goddamn Red / Cross makes…
n (g) / -who in the hell are you?

[The guards Narrator is looking at Tori’s Narrator. They can now communicate. Austin’s Narrator is still silently mouthing words at the audience.]

n (t) What? Where did you come from?

n (g) You need to tell me who you are right now. What you’re doing down here.
n (t) Down Where?
n (g) Who Are / You?
n (t) / Down where? Where am I?

n (g) you’re in a…this…You’re not supposed to be here.

n (t) Where? Do you know where we are?

[The two stare at their surroundings confusedly.]

n (g) You’re not supposed to be here.

n (t) What about you? Where are you supposed to be?

Where is here? What the fuck in going- /

[Austin’s Narrator becomes audible again. The conversation between N (Tori) and

N (Guard) continues- but we cannot hear it.]

n (a) / -on and on about humanitarian relief in the Middle East, and

I asked her if she wanted to come- called it a late honeymoon.

I figured I’d take her through a couple of poor villages and let her hand out candy bars to some kids. Of course she wouldn’t know-

she couldn’t. A person couldn’t even guess what this was. Really-
[The guard leaves the room. N (Tori) and N (Guard) continue]

n (t) -and that’s not what you see?

n (g) No. No boat. I don’t see anything that looks like a waterfall, either.
n (t) I’m looking straight at it.

n (g) Is it real? Could it be some sort of illusion?

n (t) No. No, I can feel water. It smells like water. Are you still- /

n (g) / I don’t know. It looks like…yeah, maybe a moon. There are two

more off to my left and- oh wow…

n (t) Do you see the water?
n (g) No. A planet. It was right behind me and…ships…

n (t) -boats?
n (g) -spaceships. Lot’s of them-

n (a) -could never find out who I was, what I did, or who I did it for.

Safer to tell her I was a liberal, a bleeding heart: some important

fixture in the global humanitarian relief effort. Always jetting

Out somewhere. To the Congo or Malaysia- to Laos. ‘No Honey,

You should stay. It’s dangerous there this time of year. I’ll be

Back in a week- in a couple of days- in no time- in a flash.

I’ll be back.’ She never-
n (g) -look western. You’re white. But you speak the language so well.

Yet you wear no veil. You speak to men without / fear of-

n (t) / What language are you talking about?

n (g) What you are speaking. Arabic. Our language.

n (t) No. No, that’s not right. That’s not it. This is English.

That’s what I’m-
n (a) -trained in various sciences to serve as a liaison between the secrets of our hidden kings and irreversible cosmic apocalypse-

n (g) -able to communicate, able to share information.

n (t) -right, here you are. Standing right next to me. I can hear what you’re saying. But…

n (g) You’re speaking English on a boat.

n (t) -while you’re on some moon speaking Arabic.

n (g) It doesn’t make any-

n (a) -sense to do something like that. But if it absolutely had to be listed on a formal resume: my job would read something like this:

[N (Austin}closes his eyes: Immediately N (Guard) and N (Tori) begin shrieking in absolute horror while the husband and wife slowly stand up in the center of the bunker. Somehow, neither of them look entirely human. The guard stumbles into the room with his hands on his ears. Blood is pouring out of his nose. N (Austin) opens his eyes.]

n (g) It hurts! What was it?
n (t) -I don’t know. The boat, it…the falls dragged me in.

n (g) -where are you?
N (t) I don’t know. Can you see?

n (g) Not really, no. The ships. They-

n (a) -and by they, I mean my employers- knew. They knew what it was. By the 1500’s they had mapped the original feed of all four rivers to a specific tract of mountains due east of the Sahand Mountain-

n (t) -behind the falls.

n (g) -and your boat?

n (t) -underwater. Your ships?

n (g) -flew into my eyeballs and disappeared.

n (a) -most favorable scholars of the occult sciences agreed that Eden was not a garden at all. That, while it may have been a physical place, it was hidden within non-physical aspects of our reality; like an-

n (t) -arboretum, maybe. No roads or stores.

n (g) -Yeah. Yeah, I think I-

n (a) -know, is that there is a place on earth where something else existed before us- where another reality bled into our own like a hand, pushing through a sheet- into a fishbowl.

n (t) -more than I can count. Each one is different.

n (g) -not just different. Different species. I see a male and female of each variety, then…I don’t think this is limited to fish

n (t) -birds too
n (a) -Eden was like a womb. In it, the animals of our world were hopelessly entangled with the forces from a separate reality- their bizarre universal constants forcing inevitabilities onto the primitive structure of our world: The bleed inside the bubble. The Garden. The union of cosmic chance. Eden-
n (t) -It’s a paradise. Or someone’s version of it…

n (g) -Like the world took a mulligan.

n (t) -or reset to factory default. This is-

n (a) -when we were birthed back into our world, she sealed herself behind us- closing off her knotted mess to keep the bubble small...

n (t) Squint. You can make out the boundaries.

n (g) -Hazy, yes.
n (a) I may lie to my wife. I may present myself to her as something I am not. But I brought her here through the hell of this desert- to be shot at and bombed, tortured and mutilated…for rebirth.

A -and here you are. Blown to pieces and ripped from the convoy- just as I had planned.
n (t) He’s still with me, command.

[N (Guard) scowls and hisses as N (Tori).]

n (t) Wup. He’s angry. I think he’s breaking back. Do you copy? He is phasing back.
n (a) Then the give-away. An anomalous blip from some fleeting nether worldly plane. Our captor, the flaming sword. The glimmering oasis of the dry, deserts son. And of course he took the camcorder, of course he placed it in the center of the room.

n (g) It is what I am supposed to do.

n (a) But I am a Goddamned scientist.

[The guard freezes and stares, transfixed through the lenses of the camera- while his narrator stares transfixed at the guard. Suddenly, Austin comes alive next to Tori. He lifts up the hood of his mask and gently lays her down to the floor. He walks to the camcorder and speaks directly into the microphone.]
A Adamus, this is Command. Do you copy? Over.

n (t) Loud and clear, Command. Birds in the nest, boots in the womb.

A Copy that, Adamus. Lets sound this a 3-2-5 orbit. Over.

n (t) Roger, Command; 3-2-5 orbit. Automatic relay connected.

[Austin and N (Austin) clap enthusiastically.]

On the rooftops of your city (Cusmello)

2007-01-23T17:15:00.000-08:00

[Tori and Ethyl watch as Danno walks past and sits on the ground. Tori approaches him.
SOMEONE walks across the stage with a sign which reads “ROBOTS”]

Tori You always just lurch around, Danno. You just lurch. Like this. Always around this place. It’s pitiful.

Danno Take your pills, Tori. I’m not a stinking robot.

Tori Then say something without that tone. That mechanical tone you always use.

Danno Mechanical?

Tori Like a Goddamn Machine!

Danno I’m not /

Tori / a machine? It’s what you are, stupid! Beep, Beep! [She walks around like a robot; clicking and whirring.] Toaster oven nothing waste!

Danno Where are your pills, Tori?

Tori /Cannot Compute!
[Danno begins searching for Tori’s pills.]

Ethyl Em’ Robot’s lay bricks!
Make em’ Lay em’ all both!

Tori Ha! They shit bricks out, Danno! You shit-brick!

Ethyl So lessen’ you er’ yer daddy were brick layers-

Or were yer daddy a robot?

Cause’a them Gen-etics/

Danno What are you talking about, Ethyl? [Still searching for Tori’s pills]
Ah! [He picks something up from the ground.] Here!

[ENTER NURSE CUSMELLO with GINO trailing behind her. GINO stops to watch what Danno is doing as the Nurse continues on into the center of the room.]

Nurse Cusmello More Pills. More Pills. It’s time for medication.

Danno Tori isn’t taking hers, Nurse

Nurse Cusmello Oh?

Tori Narc!

Ethyl -and that thur’ Danno s’a-robot.

[SOMEONE walks across the stage with a sign which reads “INDIANS”.

EXIT DANNO wandering out of the room, searching for pills in the carpet.]

Nurse Cusmello Nobody is a robot, dear.
Where are your pills, Victoria?

Tori I gave em to the Indians, Bitch! [She screams and runs out of the room.]

Nurse Cusmello Doctor!

Ethyl Wur? Wur them Indians at?

They buildin’ a casino out here?

Shoot! I’ll hit me a jackpot pro-gressive and drive a million dollar car out into California! Be a big movie star like them girls in the celebrity gossip magazines. Wear them big ol’ white sunglasses an’ singin’ happy birthday to the president. Course I’d prolly end up skippin’ all my auditions, though. Workin on my tan. Sittin on that lonesome beach eatin’ tropical kiwis- makin’ love to all them square jawed surfin’ soap opera actors from the 1970’s. (She looks wonderingly to the lights on the ceiling.) –starin’ at that big beautiful California sun. (She squints painfully into the lights and then turns to the nurse.) You think them Indians’d hire me on as a waitress?
[Beat as everyone stares at Faye Ethyl.]

Nurse Cusmello Doctor Argus!
[SOMEONE walks across the stage with a sign which reads “UNICORNS”.]

ENTER DR. ARGUS.]
Dr. Argus Good morning, Gino.

Gino That lady on the left- Cusmo…

Argus -Nurse Cusmello?

Gino Yeah…I don’t know about her. But her dad was one of the science nazis when all of that ‘Miracles as an applied science’ stuff was going on.

Dr Argus The dinosaurs again, Gino? Are you taking your meds?

Gino They were Unicorns, Doc. Weird Quantum alien fuckers- and a little girl- maybe one of the science guys daughters. But somehow She ends up alone in an empty room with one of the goddamn things.

Argus with a /

Gino / unicorn…I honestly don’t know what else to call it.

Argus You can’t …manifest imaginary creatures out of thin air like that.

Gino Well. Apparently you can.

Argus -then it isn’t a unicorn.

Gino I’m going to finish my story. (pause) So she’s in this room with this thing- the girl and the…whatever it is…and she’s petting it and telling it how pretty it is. I mean what little girl doesn’t want a unicorn, right? But then, out of nowhere- a fucking wrought iron zipper spear explodes through the side of it’s head. It misses the girls face by a couple of inches-and she’s backing away, trying to choke out a scream while this…while this freak, alien horse-monster starts convulsing and screeching out baby noises. Baby noises, Argus. It was terrible.

Argus Awful.

Gino I guess as this poor little girl was stumbling backwards trying To process everything- this crazy Samurai freak-job comes running into the room with a sword over his head. He’s got gore soaked unicorn pelts pasted to his chest with dried blood.

Argus Oh no.

Gino Oh yes. And he leaps across the room with this huge, blood soaked samurai sword stretched out in front of him- and he slices this Unicorns head off in midair. The thing is. The head is still stuck into the wall with the zipper spear- so when the body falls to the ground. The head just kind of bobbled there- making direct eye contact with the little girl- begging her for some…finality.

Argus And that’s when the Samurai saw the girl.

Gino -that’s when he saw the girl, Argus. His honor was ruined at that point. He really had only one thing he could do.

Argus Hari Kari.

Gino Correct, Doc. He disemboweled himself then and there, his insides spilling out around her feet.

Argus What happened?

Gino Well, they canceled the program and the little girl lost her appetite for horses. She didn’t grow up to be an equestrian or anything like that.

[Tori runs across the room screaming. The Doc catches her about halfway across. EXIT ETHYL and GINO, terrified.]

Dr Argus Bring me the shot, nurse.

[They administer the shot. EXIT DR. ARGUS. The Nurse is holding Tori’s head. ENTER DANNO. He wraps something around his forehead.]

Danno [Approaching Tori] stay through, kid- keep awake

your arch nemesis is still out there somewhere- hopping around

on the rooftops of your city; and I know you've got blood in your eye or I'd tell you to look. So listen, people die, hotshot.-in

bed-of old age, they die. All the time. They live make difficult choices

take jobs in the city they have kids retire and die. Tori? Victoria?

Ritual Orbit

2007-01-09T20:37:00.000-08:00

These are the Principles of Ritual Orbit.

1. Ritual is most effective when crafted by an individual for personal use.

Human Beings are essentially animals that have rebelled against the helplessness of a purely instinctual existence. We grow food because hunting and foraging are unpredictable. We use complex language because it maximizes the efficiency of our rebellion against the forces that would do us harm..

As animals, the universal order would have us fighting amongst one another to stay alive, but as Humans, we fight the universal order instead.

Our nature is to control to survive, and in order to control, we must understand. Therefore, it is that which we cannot comprehend which terrifies us the most, and ritual is our natural defense against these things.

When primitive man witnessed the death of a loved one and then attempted to relate the reality of that death to him self, he was unable to understand it and thus unable to control it’s influence over his existence. So he crafted a ritual as a temporary bridge between what he could and could not comprehend. Inevitably, his tribe found comfort in this satisfying explanation of the darkness- and they began to craft a simple mythology to support it.

Remember, though, that the ritual originated with just one man. If any new insights concerning the true nature of death were revealed to him, he could easily craft a new ritual to accommodate them, or simply modify the original- but since the tribe has adopted his ritual as their own, since there is now a complicated group mythology to support this ‘temporary bridge’- it would be quite difficult for the ritual to adapt itself to anything sudden or new.

2. The focus of a ritual will decrease proportionately to any increase of adherents to that rituals unified community of shared belief.

Say a man crafts a ritual to soothe his fear of the unknown (of death). He sees the sun and calls it a Golden Button and he says that when he dies, his life will wash away into the tide of the Golden Button where he will be warm and happy for all of eternity.

The rest of his hears of this ritual and are immediately comforted by it’s reassurance of protection from the unknown- so they begin to observe it as well. But now, instead of one man focusing all of his attention on one ritual, there are now several people, all slightly less focused on the object of that ritual, and slightly more focused on one another- on the woman they are courting, or the man they are about the marry.

Soon a friendly neighboring tribe hears of this ritual, and gradually, they too begin to attend. There are now so many distracted people involved with this one mans temporary description of the unknown, that when he finally passes away, they are left with a ritual that has no individual interpreter for its design. Since they can no longer turn to him, they turn to what he created instead; they turn to the Golden Button.

They begin to worship it; make sacrifices to it- anything to get some answers or guidance out of it. They create temples and complex manuscripts to bolster their beliefs, and when someone finally stands up and asks the very serious question, “Why are we worshiping a Golden Button?”

3.Societal order is entirely dependant upon the effectiveness of its ritual order, and its ability to adapt to local shifts in culture and science.

It should come as no surprise that a civilization builds itself on principals of shared belief, on common values and similar ideologies. We hold each others hands in the darkness to ward away the helplessness from what we do not understand. We soothe each other against the unimaginable emptiness of space.

When the focus of a ritual has been entirely forgotten by its people- the civilization to which those people belong begins to deteriorate- the people begin to forget why they belong to that civilization in the first place. No longer are they unified in comfort against the darkness. No longer can their sluggish rituals adapt themselves to the rapid shifts of culture that are inherent to such a massive population of people. Their temporary bridge is falling apart, and when it does- the world that they built on top of that bridge will go down right behind it.

4.Local shifts in culture and science are always predicated by effective rituals that have been crafted by an individual for personal use.

One day, a scientist walks out of his laboratory after 40 long days and 40 long nights of research- and proclaims that he has discovered a theory which may very well describe mans fate after death.

But the people are so involved with their ancient ritualistic system that they ignore the scientist because their static principles cannot react quickly enough to adapt. Because of this, they are unable to further separate themselves from the malevolent universal order which their ritual was created to protect them against in the first place.

2007-01-09T19:40:00.000-08:00

Notes [From the Fountain]

2006-10-06T23:36:00.000-07:00

[click images to enlarge]

Perplexis

2006-08-20T23:36:00.000-07:00

Perplexis lives at three-oh-nine
West Chiltonberry way
with her seven older brothers
who do nothing everyday.

(Now, for all those unaware of
how a 'nothing' is defined,
it's really just an synonym
for life without surprise.

-and if surprise is what we use
to keep our lives intriguing,
then nothing's just a state of mind
where something's always fleeting.)

So, everyday Perplexis walks
to school and then to work,
where her mind is always busy
and her brothers do not lurk.

For, though she loves her brothers
more than anyone could know...
-with every inch they sink to waste
it tears apart her soul.

It seems each passing moment
strikes a thousand listless hours
As Lexis watches helpless as
her brothers minds go sour.

So, walking home from school one day,
consumed with riotous anger
Perplexis formulates a plan
to free them all from danger.

-and on the morn of Halloween
with jacket-bundled-tightly
She gives away her precious things
and sets upon the highway.

For waiting round with 'hopeful' thoughts
has worn away her patience
Thus lexis now has set upon
the trek to reparation.

(Before one gets to traveling
through space of-far unknown-
One first must flee the warm
familiar confines of their home.

A legend of the questing-kind
allegedly once said,
“The hardest journey of them all,
is getting out of bed.”

The masters of these tribulations
venture as they please-
Unhindered by what sloth oppressions
indolence will breed.

So when these feathered bedding binds
grow pillows round’ your face
remember: sever mind from sleep,
and beds you shall escape.)

It’s cold, you know on Halloween
Most monsters can attest,
Most children too, who trick or treat
Are always smartly dressed.

But Lexis, in her pauper clothes
-a dress not fit for comfort
-a pair of chucks spite rain and snow
and hoodie raggd asunder.

-her swollen feet beat ’neath the snow,
from high-fi arctic air
which closes frozen winter roads
bemoaning thoroughfares.

A torrid, stormy system swirls in
circles round’ the sky,
whilst’ lounging in the distance
looms another storm pariah.

While Lexis was tiny pearl
still living with her mother,
the school agreed the girl
indeed did differ from her brothers.

"A difference doesn't tell the tale"
remarked one grim instructor
on stair- fat knuckle-white on rail,
"She has no older brothers."

"It's true,' Piped in the principal
"Her mind is in upheaval.
Instinctively, it seems she sees
imaginary people."

Her worried mother rushed her fro
from hospitals to shrinks
from every known professional
on every listed street.

Yards

2006-08-20T02:53:00.000-07:00

There are three wooden cross-sections that divide my
lawn into four separate inner pastures,each individually
irrigated through a network of perforated copper pipes
that extend from a large hydro-electric water filtration
system that fits seamlessly into the bottom of the fountain
in my yard.

When it rains, there is an underground resevoir which funnels
water into a small, obsidion exit-peice which is perched on top
of the fountain-pouring liquids back into the main basin from
a bucket which is balanced on its head.

(A heavy web of hollow coils make up the inside body
and legs of this statuette, and they run from a flood-gate
near the exiting water at the bucket.. to a bundle of polymer
tubes 6 feet beneath my mailbox.)

The few bits of mail I do receive are actually high yield nutrients
which have been compacted into the shape of envelopes by a
high tech gardening company located outside of Vancouver B.C.
When the mailman drops these envelopes into the gutter, he is
actually releasing carefully measured amounts of chemicals into a feild
of underground drainage pumps that circulate the mixture
back into the resivoir underneath the fountain.

There are times when I am lying in bed watching the ceiling fan
spin its shadows into the open doors of my bedroom- when I'll
wearily contemplate the importance of my work. And as my mind
wanders with the shades of grey and black on the walls, I am sometimes
tempted to run into the streets screaming my secrets to all of those
who would listen,hoping beyond anything that some r a n d o m
passerbyer could validate the terrible things which I have done. It's
during these times when I am most vunurable to the pressures and
influences of the outside world.

My home in this place is nothing more than a diversion for my life
below. The walls and shelves of my living room are decorated
with portraits of families that I have never seen nor spoken to, and the
kitchen pantry is stocked only with foods essential to my own survival.
The things that hold value for others, their television sets and high speed
internet connections, their cash and jewelry and precious loved ones...none
of these things reflect well in the fountain

In addition to the intricate waterways beneath my
home, there are
several
hundred yards of reinforced concrete corridors that
spiral a
considerable
distance beyond the restrictive boundaries of my
property. These
distances
are more than tripled in the bundles of gossamer thin
tubing which
furtively
occupy several of the corridors that cluster
underneath my neighboring
homes
and gardens. Much could be said of the upkeep to these
structures,
which, if
left intended could lead to an entropy of the system,
and perhaps more
importantly, to a stagnation of the chemicals which
the system so
studiously
maintains. I have little doubt that without constant
supervision, the
delicate balances of these devices would cease to
perform their
intended
functions, and begin to operate redundantly on their
own accord.
On power, there is the air-conditioning unit on the
side of my home
that
has been modified to double as a sort of solar
generator. The pumps
transferring water from the neighboring homes are run
from both the
primary
power of this unit and the secondary power of the
flowing water itself.
This
steady intake of water into the main system is
purified through a
charcoal
filter then sent directly to a solitary canal on the
opposite end of
the
fountain. It is from here that the nearby reservoir of
brewing chemicals
and
nutrients are properly diluted and measured carefully
into injectable
doses.
After this, they are quickly transfered to a
refrigerated holding tank
near
the entrance to my basement.
It is only now that the fountain is able relinquish
control of the
system
to the local plumbing of my home. This control is
frequently botched
by the
design of the primitive structures hydrarchitecture,
but any
modifications
to the upper levels of my compound would only draw
unneeded attention
from
the outside world. As it is, two feet beneath the
floor of the
basement, tap
water faucet pumps mist the cooled mixture onto a
white hot-sheet of
stainless steel, thus, evaporating the liquid formula
and leaving the
solid
impurities behind. This vapor is vacuumed into a
spiraling glass cord
which
drips the new liquid into a blue plastic cup on my
windowsill.

I will sometimes observe the contents
of that cup,
curiously holding it up to the sun- and swishing the
liquids into a
whirlpool.

And at the end of the day when I have
nothing left to do,

I
will often wonder at
what
it means-

what
the
fluid actually represents.

It seems the only things I do know anymore, are that
when I step
underground, I am proud-

that when I pour water into a glass,

I am happy,

and that when I shower in the evening with the idea of
another day
before
me,

I will think of the fountain,
and smile.

The Scientific Dazzlecrats of Mathmaworld 11

2006-07-18T20:11:00.000-07:00

(TWO SCIENTISTS in a laboratory have been frozen in time. They appear distraught and have been affixed as follows:

The MALE SCIENTIST; hunched before a massive panel of multi-colored buttons- one hand grasping a tuft of his hair while the other is extending down towards the panel.

The FEMALE SCIENTIST; braced with her back against the only visible doorway- struggling to keep a deadly monster from entering the lab.

A SHOWGIRL walks in front of the stage with a cardboard sign which reads,

'ACT 1'

and then falters near her intended exit at the opposite end. She glances hesitantly toward the two scientists, moves to make her body half hidden by an incomplete exit, then stops.)

SHOWGIRL

Wha…I dunno. What do you want me to do?

She turns in response to an unvoiced command, and with a smile no less sincere than her first- walks, with sign outstretched to her original entrance at the opposite end of the stage.

ENTER DIRECTOR, whose panicked head appears from behind a curtain on the other side of the stage. The showgirl meets his pleading eyes, and then shrugs. They both look worriedly to the two scientists, then confusedly gesture one another to proceed.

The SHOWGIRL sighs and marches across the stage to the DIRECTOR where there immediately begins a bickering, whispered debate. After a few moments of this, The Director suddenly turns and strides angrily to the unmoving SCIENTISTS up-stage.

He whispers angry questions at them- but they do not respond. He shouts muffled accusations at them- but to no avail. They remain frozen and uncooperative in time.)
DIRECTOR

-pfooooooo…

The Director turns back on his heels towards the two scientists, hesitates; and then returns his attention to the crowd.

DIRECTOR

-this…(nervous laugh)…I…(brief pause as he looks toward the two SCIENTISTS) I'm sorry- I don't know what they're doing…so…

He glances nervously to his right and left until he catches the SHOWGIRLS attention. She shrugs.

The houselights fade up.

SHOWGIRL

-I guess…I mean I don't know what to say. (She looks to the Scientists.) What the fuck are you guys doing?

The ASSISTANT walks haltingly onto the stage- not at all comfortable with the situation. A Technician (TECH) emerges from his booth (or from some technical station behind the audience) and looks questioningly to his co-workers for support. No one notices him.

SHOWGIRL

-well (but the DIRECTOR has already begun moving towards his ASSISTANT.) Pfooo.

The Director stops the charge towards his assistant when he notices the TECH.

DIRECTOR

(Barely perceptible. To the TECH.) Did you know anything about this?)

TECH

No, I…

DIRECTOR

-they didn't say anything to you? Nothing?
TECH

-no, I mean…I don't…

DIRECTOR

(attempting to communicate with his Assistant who is too far away to understand what the Director is saying.) I don't…I don't know what to do.

TECH

(Loudly to the Showgirl.) What's up?

SHOWGIRL

Pfooo…(she snaps to the sound of the Techs voice.) -wha?

DIRECTOR

(to his assistant, who still cannot hear.) What do you want to do?

DIRECTOR

-What Do You Want To Do? (louder this time, but still incomprehensible.)

The Assistant is visibly upset. He steps out of the shadows and begins to march toward the director.

TECH

This is fucking awesome.

The Showgirl coughs out a single breath of nervous laughter. She appears gratefull to the Tech for having dispelled some of the Audiences negative attention.

The Assistant ends his march face to face with the Director.

ASSISTANT

What the fuck were you saying, man? I didn't hear you.

DIRECTOR

-I said what do you want to do?
ASSISTANT

-you're the…goddamn…(he grabs the script from the directors hands and pushes his way toward the Showgirl and the Tech. He stops briefly to address the audience.) Hey, folks- uh…sorry,

I'm gonna try and clear all this out…get someone else up here for you. (he motions toward the Showgirl and the Tech.) Would you guys come down here for a second, please?

The SHOWGIRL immediately begins walking toward the assistant while the Tech lingers hesitantly behind.

TECH

-what about the lights?

DIRECTOR

(to his assistant.) What are you gonna do?

ASSISTANT

(ignoring the DIRECTOR. Addressing the TECH, instead.) What about em? I need you to come down here and help, okay. You don't need to be worrying about lights, right now.

The TECH walks down into the pit shaking his head and stands next to the SHOWGIRL.

TECH

(Under his breath) Lame.

The Director folds his arms, embarrassed- pretending to be intrigued as his assistant passes out scripts to the crew.

DIRECTOR

What is this?

SHOWGIRL

No…I don't…I can't do this…(She hands the script back to the Assistant, who frowns and pushes it back toward her.)

The Assistant pulls the Showgirl off to the side- leaving the Tech standing uncomfortably silent next to the director.

SHOWGIRL

(in a harsh whisper) I'm not gonna do this. / No.

ASSISTANT

-all you have to do is just /

SHOWGIRL

/ no, I can't.

ASSISTANT

/ read from the script. It's a cold read /

SHOWGIRL

/ don't you have…like..

ASSISTANT

-Understudies? Yeah, cause this is a really big production.

SHOWGIRL

-Well, I mean…What…

ASSISTANT

Look, man…this is it. This is everyone. Don't fuck me. Just read from the goddamn script.

DIRECTOR

(to Tech) I think we should just stop all this and let someone else go on.

TECH

(Shrugs) Well…you're the fuckin' Director. Why don't you tell everyone to stop so that somebody else can go on?
SHOWGIRL

Alright, from where to where?

ASSISTANT

(Turns at the sound of her voice) What?

SHOWGIRL

Where do you want me to start?

ASSISTANT

Oh, uh…

TECH

(Flipping through the script.) Hey, who am I?

SHOWGIRL

Yeah, I don't even…

The Director walks listlessly up to the stage and snaps his fingers at the frozen scientists. They do not respond. The Assistant pulls the script out of the Showgirls hands and scans his eyes down the page.

ASSISTANT

-youuuuuuu (he flips through the script) are reading for Dr. Isus (He puts the script back into her hands and moves over to the Tech.) and youuuuu, are /

SHOWGIRL

So this is a guy? I'm reading for a guy?

(The Tech and the Assistant look worriedly up to the Showgirl.)

DIRECTOR

(To the Scientists.) HEY! (He snaps his fingers) HEY!

ASSISTANT

(Quickly explaining to the Tech.) So from here to here…skip all this shit- and finish right here, okay? (He immediately turns to the Showgirl.) Is that okay?

SHOWGIRL

It's fine, I…It's fine…

The assistant cautiously nods and then walks over to the Director.

ASSISTANT

Can you take the booth?

The director sighs visibly.

ASSISTANT

Can you please take the booth?

DIRECTOR

I don't…( He looks around nervously and walks to the edge of the pit, just beyond earshot. The Assistant impatiently follows.) I really don't want to be in the booth.

The rest of their conversation trails off into whispered bickering

SHOWGIRL

(To Tech) I really don't want to read for a man.

TECH

You wanna trade?

SHOWGIRL

Is it a boy or a girl?

TECH

Well, the…I think it all takes place in the 5th dimension, so…boy / girl doesn't really apply…

SHOWGIRL

-What's the 5th dimension?

TECH

(laughs nervously) -do you…

DIRECTOR

(cutting in. Loudly, to the audience. Having returned from his talk with the Assistant.) Hey, so…sorry again- everybody. We're gonna try and get the ball rolling, here. And uh…I'm gonna go operate the technical aspects of the show. So…

The Assistant leans in to whisper something encouraging into the Directors ear- shrugging…as if to minimize the importance of the situation. The Director nods and coolly points his finger around the room- disappearing into the booth with a smile. There is a beat as they all watch him depart.

SHOWGIRL

(To assistant) What's the 5th dimension?

ASSISTANT

What?

The Assistant and the Tech Pause as they wait, hopefully- for the Showgirls storm to pass. No such luck.

SHOWGIRL

-am I a boy or a girl?

An uncomfortable silence.

ASSISTANT

It's a girl

SHOWGIRL

Well…I thought boys and girls don't exist in the 5th dimension.

An uncomfortable silence.

ASSISTANT

Who told you that?

SHOWGIRL

What's the 5th Dimension?

The Assistant sighs heavily and puts his arms over his head. All lights go off. Pause, then another sigh.

ASSISTANT

(In total darkness) Turn the light back on. Please.

DIRECTOR

I'm sorry. What? I didn't….was that a signal?

ASSISTANT

(To Director.) Turn The Goddamn Lights Back On.
DIRECTOR

Wait…didn't you just…I thought we were working off signals, here.(Long pause) right? (silence)

TECH

(Hey! Don't be pushin' buttons up there, man. I've got /)

DIRECTOR

/What?

TECH

-there're other shows, just- please don't mess with the board…up there. Please?

ASSISTANT

Oh no.

DIRECTOR

I WILL MESS…WITH ANYTHING…THAT I WANT.

I AM STILL…THE DIRECTOR…OF THIS SHOW.
ASSISTANT

Look, you two go ahead and-

Lights begin to cut on and off as The Director (unseen) begins mashing on the board in the booth.

TECH

Awesome.

SHOWGIRL

So I'm a he/she, right? Is that... (she holds out her script)

Is that what this is? I mean, I still don't understand.

ASSISTANT

(Attention focused on booth, but distractedly addressing Tech and Showgirl) Get ready to read.

SHOWGIRL

Did You Hear Me?

ASSISTANT

Uh-huh. Get ready to read.

SHOWGIRL

You're just ignoring me?

ASSISTANT

mmm-hmmm. Are you ready?

TECH

I can't believe I got drug tested for this fucking hassle.

SHOWGIRL

(riffling through her script.) Whatever.

The Assistant begins to march into the booth to calm things down.

ASSISTANT

(While walking) Start.

Tech

Now?

ASSISTANT

Start Reading.

TECH

(Looking through his script) Okay, uh…The Monster beats on the laboratory door while the Scientists search for an escape, and- (to the SHOWGIRL) You walk across the stage holding a sign..

SHOWGIRL

(Unmoving) Right- Walking, walking…(She holds up her script

To the audience) Act Two.

Act 2

All that follows is to be simultaneous: Tech and the Showgirl become frozen in time. Red lights and shrieking sirens grow painfully out of the laboratory. There's a violent banging on the door which the female scientist is holding closed with the full of her body, and her male counterpart is wildly mashing his hands onto the panel of multi-colored buttons below him.

FEMALE SCIENTIST

Lock The Door!

MALE SCIENTIST

I'm Trying. I'm Trying

FEMALE SCIENTIST

It's coming through, Damnit- lock the door!

MALE SCIENTIST

-almost…

A cold noise of metal on metal, and the door is locked. The woman slides to the ground in a daze but then quickly recovers and runs to look over the male scientists shoulder. The banging becomes more intense.

Female Scientist

Now, check the current.

MALE SCIENTIST

It's not the current.

FEMALE SCIENTIST

What is it, then?

MALE SCIENTIST

It's not the current. It….it may be an algorithm, or-

FEMALE SCIENTIST

/ Stop your damn analyzing and do something! What about this? (She randomly mashes a button.)

MALE SCIENTIST

Don't push that, it /

FEMALE SCIENTIST

/ What? What does it do?
MALE SCIENTIST

-destroys all of the suns in our neighboring galaxies.

FEMALE SCIENTIST

We have buttons for that? To hell with them, what about this one? (She mashes another random button.)

MALE SCIENTIST

…my God, an entire Universe…

FEMALE SCIENTIST

Then You Do Something.

MALE SCIENTIST

It's not that simple! It's a matter of risk and probabilities, not of pushing buttons like a fool!

FEMALE SCIENTIST

You watch what you say, you filth. Your job is to do

what I say and that's it. Now power the security with the power from the lab.

MALE SCIENTIST

Are you out of your mind? Do you remember what just happened to our people- to our entire civilization? We risk that same fate if ANYTHING is transferred outside of that door. We risk everything.

FEMALE SCIENTIST

You Risk Your Next Breath If It Isn't Taken In Sanctuary From That Monster! I'll Clone Another Dog From Your Ashes!

MALE SCIENTIST

Alright, then. (He mashes several buttons on the console.) Since you've made up your mind.

(A disembodied female voice pierces the labs interior.)

VOICE

This will activate displacement protocol 11. Are you sure you wish to proceed?

FEMALE SCIENTIST

11, what? What is protocol 11?

VOICE

Are you sure you wish to proceed?

FEMALE SCIENTIST

What are you doing? Explain the meaning of this.

MALE SCIENTIST

I'm afraid this is the only way. (He presses a button.)

VOICE

Are you sure you wish to- protocol has been activated.

Redirecting Auxiliary Power for Kerr Sinusoid Rotation.

(The Female Scientist makes a terrified scramble for the door.)

FEMALE SCIENTIST

No, no, no, no…

(There is a cold sheathing sound of metal on metal- and the door is once again unlocked. The Female Scientist shoulders it closed just as the monster is opens it up.)

FEMALE SCIENTIST

What have you done?

VOICE

Plotting descent coordinates. Is this OK?

FEMALE SCIENTIST

NO! This is not OK! Where are we goddamned descending to?

VOICE

Voice pattern not recognized. Plotting Descent coordinates. Is this OK?

MALE SCIENTIST

Yes. Proceed.

FEMALE SCIENTIST

Stop!

VOICE

Coordinates attained. Is this all?

MALE SCIENTIST

No.

VOICE

Please clarify.

FEMALE SCIENTIST

Yes! Please Clarify!

MALE SCIENTIST

Flood out message N-N-Alpha upon completion of protocol.

VOICE

Flood message N-2-Alpha upon protocol complete.

Is this correct?

MALE SCIENTIST

Yes.

VOICE

This will deplete all remaining auxiliary power. Do you wish to proceed?

FEMALE SCIENTIST

No! /

VOICE

Voice pattern not / recognized. Do you wish to proceed?

FEMALE SCIENTIST

/ wherever it is that you think you're taking us- we'd be stranded. We could never return. I order you to stop immediately.

MALE SCIENTIST

Proceed.

FEMALE SCIENTIST

No, NO, NO!

VOICE

Sinusoid rotation at full.

FEMALE SCIENTIST

This is our home!

MALE SCIENTIST

No…

VOICE

Initiate when ready.

MALE SCIENTIST

Not any more.

(He pushes a button.)

VOICE

Activation compl-

PROLOGUE

(Darkness. The Female Voice burns through heavy static into our ears.)

VOICE

N-n…(a beep) alpha, message..n-n..alpha (a beep)

broadcast…n-2…alpha, message (beep)

(Technical noises, and then the voice of the Male Scientist.)

MALE SCIENTIST

This is a warning. For the inhabitants of the world into which we descend...this is your warning: I am one of two remaining scientists, from an entire civilization of scientists that has been annihilated by a creature from the 6th dimension. I cannot explain the nature of a 6th dimensional reality to creatures with intellect as limited as your own; but I can tell you that we scientists are from the 5th and that each of you belong to what is known as the space/time continuum.)

ACT 3

SHOWGIRL

Act 2.

TECH

Act 3.

SHOWGIRL

Wh- no. It's...

TECH

It's Act 3.

SHOWGIRL

This is where they told me to start.

ASSISTANT

What's the hold up?

SHOWGIRL

Isn't this where you said to start?

TECH

They can't...see what you're...

ASSISTANT

What are you pointing at? Can you show her where to start?

TECH

Look...

SHOWGIRL

That's the same. That's what I'm reading.

ASSISTANT

Your'e starting from the third act, okay?

TECH

(Grabbing her script) Her's says act 2.

SHOWGIRL

See?

Wyldaechi (nan) 2123

2006-03-07T17:05:00.000-08:00

2 panels

1/2 page panel: Two black silhouettes climbing towards us from the cliff-face.

Narrative: (Jimmy Wyldes voice) "This is the way of it sweetheart…"

1/2 page panel: of evolving images: Cavemen, men in togas, men in Roman armor,
Men in armor full plate, men in modern military suits- men in space-age military suits.

Narrative (Jimmy Wylde) "-for as long as mans' been…he's been lookin' to his brothers defeat."

2 2 panels.

1/2 page panel: of evolving images: Simple stone arrowheads, tomahawks, swords,
axes, muskets, cannons, rockets, lasers- space-guns.

Narrative (Jimmy Wylde) "As long as he's been …he's made his weapons to go faster, further-
with more power."

1/2 page panel: of evolving images: Horses with mounted warriors, carts pulling
Cannons; jeeps, humvees, tanks- a giant gorilla-esq mechanoid rising from the skyline.

Narrative (Jimmy Wylde) "and since he's been…he's made for things to move them weapons to his wars.
All for his brothers' defeat."

3 3 panels.

2/3 page splash: Dark clouds forming on a desert horizon.

Narrative (Jimmy Wylde) "-some say it's justice that them things'd turn tail and fight him back.

2nd panel : Same dark clouds, but darker and on a darker horizon.

Narrative (Jimmy Wylde) "Poor fuckin' man…"

3rd panel: Same dark clouds, but with lightening crashing into the dark horizon.

4 Full page.

Tasha and Jimmy Wylde climbing towards us from the cliff-face.

Jimmy Wylde: "…and his poor fuckin' brother."

Title: School supplies.

5 2 panels.
1/2 page panel: Tasha and Jimmy Wylde are standing at the edge of a clifface, oriented towards
a deep depression in the arid, desert landscape around them. Tasha is looking
worriedly at the darkening sky, while Jimmy peers into the botom of the depression
at...
1/2 page panel: (The two panels form one conituous picture) a huge, ape-esque mechanoid that is
laying flat on its back amidst a sea of salvage.

Tasha ylde: "...shit."
Jimmy Wulde " Hmmm."

6 6 panels.

1st panel: Jimmy and Tasha are climbing down to the mechanoid.

Tasha: "How long do we have?"

Jimmy:"Tough to say..."

2nd panel: Close up on Jimmy's face, strained from exertion.

Jimmy:"Figuring that it's cells are dry from so much exposure...hell, even then...

3rd panel: Tasha is climbing with a concentrated look on her face. Her knuckles are white on the rock.

Jimmy's Voice:"-the slightest bit of moisture and that thing'll snap back to life in a matter of seconds."

4th panel: Tasha looks frightened as a raindrop hits her nose.

Tasha:"...terrific."

5th panel: Tasha and Jimmy are in middair after jumping the rest of the way down.
Their backs are toward us.

6th panel:Tasha and Jimmy are running at full speed toward to the mechanoid.

7 6 panels.

1/3 page panel: The mechanoid begins shaking violently as the two approach; points of
light burst upwards from certain sections of it's armour. A piercing mechanical shriek
suffocates the air.

2nd panel: Tasha wylde clasps her head in agony- screaming in pain.

3rd panel: Jimmy Wylde is also in agony- clasping his hands to his ears.

4th panel: The shrieking abrubtly stops and the points of light disapear.
Tasha and her father remain stooped and wincing, eyes shut.

Tasha Wylde:"Good...NESS!"

5th panel: Close up on Tasha and her father, eyes hesitantly open- scanning.

6th panel: Tasha and Jimmy are suddenly driven to the ground as a pillar of exaust erupts from
an opening near the mechanoids shoulder.

8 9 panels

1st panel: Still on the ground, Jimmy Wylde immediatly swivles his head in search of an escape route.

Jimmy Wylde:"Okay...I think we might be able to get back up to the cliff-face and shimmy down the
other side before it gets..."

2nd panel: Jimmy is staring in horror at the empty space his daughter had just occupied.

3rd panel: Jimmy is in the process of standing up when he see's Tasha's sillouette dashing towards
the awakening mechanoid. His face is one of frightened concentration.

4th panel: Jimmy Wylde is now racing towards his daughter, and the menacing ape-like machine.

5th panel: Tasha Wylde skids on her knees to a stop beside a maintenance hatch on the
mechanoids neck. She is already grasping a cigarette-pack sized charge of c/4 from her messenger
bag. Her fathers black silouette approaches in the distance.

6th panel: Tashas brow is furrowed in concentration. A single red light from the charge of c/4 gives an
eerie tint to the sweat on her face. The sillouette of her father draws nearer.

7th panel: Tasha is running away from the hatch with a trigger mechanism in her hand- her thumb is on
the button. There are the beginings of an explosion on the hatch and in the air around it..

8th panel: Tasha looks up in time to see her father leap through the flames and smoke- soaring towards
the newly forged hatch opening.

9th panel: Jimmy Wylde ends his leap in a poof of smoke landing inside the hatch.

9 6 panels.

1st panel: Tasha lowers herself into the hatch where her father is already wrist deep in wires and circutry
from a control panel that he snapped from the wall.

Jimmy Wylde:"You're grounded...snips, please..."

2nd panel: Tasha hands him the snips.

Tasha Wylde:"Oh heaven, spare me the injustice! I don't know if you remember..."

Jimmy Wylde:"Tape..."

3rd panel: She hands him the tape.

Tasha Wylde:" ...but we live in the goddamned desert, DAD! We sleep in caves and eat
rats with our bare, filthy hands. Are THESE the privilages you'll steal
away from me?

Jimmy Wylde:"You're diggin' deeper."

4th panel: Tasha is rolling her eyes as a door opens to the mechanoids cockpit.

Tasha Wylde:"...whatever."

5th panel: There is another mechanical shreik as the entire compartment begins to quake and rumble.
Jimmy is looking at Tasha, who is staring into the cockpit.

Jimmy Wylde:"Focus, Jellybean. The AI just activated. What do you do?"

6th panel: Tasha is scanning the cockpit with a concentrated look in her eye. Jimmy is standing behind her
ready to evaluate her response.

Jimmy Wylde: "NOW, Tasha!"

Tasha Wylde: "okay, uhh...this is...this is a flat model seven, silver-slick ...and...

Jimmy Wylde: "No time hotshot!"

Tasha Wylde: "-and it's got a non-mod, AI overwatch security slave embedded into ALL system-wide
functions and controls."

Jimmy Wylde: "AND?"

Tasha Wylde: "...and...and that means we can't hack this system while the AI is watching everything we do."

10 5 panels.

1st panel: Tashas brow is furrowed in complex thought. She does not notice that her father is headed for the
hatch through which they entered. She continues to speak as if he is still listening.

Tasha Wylde: "Wait, though...during startup, an AI can't orient itself to more than one objective at a time...
but it's default command ..up; is to protect the system until the system is able to protect
the AI.

2nd panel:Tasha is strapping herself into the cockpit- The bottoms of her fathers legs on the rungs of the ladder
below the hatch- are all that remain of him.

Tasha Wylde:"So, if we could endanger the external system long enough for the AI to abandon its gaurd
on the internal system, then I might be able to break into the control mechanism and cut out the
AI completly.

3rd Panel: Tasha is suprised when a gunshot on the porthole window stops her in mid sentence.

Tasha Wylde: "Wha-?"

4th panel: Tasha is peering out of the porthole at her father who is aiming a handgun directly at the 50 ton
city-killing robot.

Tasha Wylde:"Dad?"

5th panel: "Tasha is lunging franticaly into the computer system. She is now her fathers only hope.

11 5 panels.

1/2 page panel: The silver slick mechanoid has been attacked by Jimmy Wylde. Jimmy stands with
his handgun held meekly before him as the giant killing machine rears to deadly life before his eyes.

2nd Panel: Jimmy's handgun is in focus against the blur of the massive silver slick in the foreground.

3rd panel: Jimmy's handgun is now a blur against the whirring multitude of cannos and space lasers
aimed directly at his person.

4th panel: Jimmy has dropped the pistol, and is running at full speed for cover.

5th panel: Jimmy is leaping behind the scavenged torso of an abandoned mechanoid. An explosion
disentigrates the place he was just standing.

12 9 panels:

1st panel: A close up shot of the silver slick unloading millions of rounds into the carcas of the
salvaged mechanoid.

2nd panel: Jimmy is poised behind the salvage with his eyes closed. Lasers and ammo are exploding
in pings and pangs and clouds of dust all around him.

Jimmy Wylde: "11, 12, 13, 14, fifteen hundred rounds..."

3rd panel: Another close up of the silver slick unloading ammunition.

Voice over (Jimmy):"16,17,18,19, 2000 rounds...reload.

4th panel: Jimmy is grinning. The silver slick machine guns have stopped firing. Lasers still wash the
ground around him.

5th panel: Jimmy is still poised behind the salvaged mechanoid. Lasers whip through the air above his head.

Jimmy Wylde:"4, 3, 2, 1...overheated..."

6th panel: A close up of the silver slick laser rifle, not firing, smoke pouring through the barrels.

7th panel: Jimmy is running for cover behind the cliffface. He has a long way to go.

8th panel: The silver-slick towers over Jimmy, who is still sprinting for cover behind the cliff-face.

Silver Slick (In a monstourous machine-like voice):"STOP! HA!HA!HA!HA!"

9th panel: Realizing that he has no where to go, unable to reach the clifface in time- he stops in his tracks
and holds his hands high in the air.

13 5 panels.

1st panel:Silence as Jimmy and the silver slick stare at each other from a distance.

2nd panel:Same scene visually.

Silver slick:"...and that concludes our man-eating killer robot portion of the tour..."

3rd panel: Tasha is sitting in the cockpit grinning like an idiot- wires and computer parts strew across
the floor and ceiling chaotically.

Tasha:"We do ask that you visit our charming gift shop on your way out of the building...

4th panel: Jimmy is standing, facing away from us- looking at the mechanoid who is giving him the thumbs up.

5th panel: Jimmy is not amused. He is looking up to where he assumes his daughter is seated- and frowns.

Jimmy Wylde:"Grounded."

14 5 panels.

1st panel: A speck of a shuttle amidst the blackness of outer-space.

Narrative box (top of page): Meanwhile, in outer space.

Dialogue (bottom page): Be carefull, now boy...

2nd panel: The shuttle is bigger. We can begin to define it's shape.

Dialogue: These machines don't run on batteries.
They use the earths magnetic field as
an energy source.

3rd panel: We can read the writing on the side of the shuttle, now.
It says: Science frigatte 329Q8
The Great Return

Dialogue: They use satalites to transfer magnetism
into the machines recievers- where it's
converted into workable energy and dispersed
throughout the system as needed.

3rd panel: We see a little bit more of the shuttle, and of it's destination:
The edge of a great, blue earth.

Dialogue: My concern...

4th panel: The shuttle is heading straight toawrds earth,
which now takes up a majority of the panel.

Dialogue: ...is how the shuttle will react as we draw nearer to the-

15 4 panels

1st panel: Dawn, a young man of about 17, is piloting the vessel. Strapped
in to a passenger seat behind him is Dr. Dodd Euretig. Dawn and the doctor
are suddenly bathed in an intense red light- and a deep rumle fills
the cockpit. Dawn is rolling his eyes in bothered disbelief.

Dr. Euretig: -to the planet.

Dawn: Terrific.

Songa Red

2006-03-06T21:28:00.000-08:00

During the initial shock of a Zombie Apocalypse; it's the men and women of faith that do the most damage. 1 They run out of their homes into the sunshine of the good lords rapture 2 and into their neigbors 3 or their children 4 who eat their arms 5 or their genitals- 6 and then that person becomes a Zombie..7 and everyone thinks there's a big church meeting going on- 8 so they all skank out into the sunshine in their sunday best with their arms over their heads 9 and then somebody eats their skin off 10 and they become a Zombie..and it's so ironic because somebody JUST gave you the 11 'why not be prepared and read the bible- that way your bases are covered if there IS a God.' speech- 12 but you can clearly see the guy outside of your window being gutted alive 13 by a pack of naked old women, so it's obvious that his bases were not covered at all. 14 He can't scream...15 because his lungs have just been torn out of his chest- 16 but he makes direct eye contact with you- 17 so you sigh, open your window- 18 give him a brief look of mechanical sympathy with a half shrug and a 'you can do it nod'... 19 then you turn around, roll your eyes 20 lock your door 21 and watch your roomate play 'dance, dance, revolution' while you finish your coffee and eat a bowl of cereal.

22 Before the Cable service was discontinued- there was an account of a sole remaining keeper of a large metropolitan zoo who confusedly decided to flee from the relative saftey of his 23 gated, 24 food-laden animal sanctuary...for the 25 trite, screaming, 26 unprotected comforts of some 27 random, panicked crowd with handguns.

28 Fearing that his helpless wards would starve in his absence, 29 the zoo keeper released all of the animals from their cages- 30 made a determined, B-Line Sprint for the exit but..31 was mauled to death, almost immediately by a healthy young pair of Afican lions named 32 Bobmbatha, 33 and Songa Red.

34 I watched on T.V. as the lions leapt over a couple of short fences to their freedom on the other side of the zoo. 35 I watched as they roared and shook their manes free of blood and chunks of man. 36 I watched as every Zombie eyestoped and turned to the spectacle of the two, young predator cats standing unafraid in the middle of the street.

37 I saw wave after wave of undead masses threw themseves in blind, ferocious hunger against the lions; 38 and I watched as the clouds of blood settled onto the ground and the two victorious animals stepped from beneath the shadows and into sunlight for a nap.

39 You can fight zombies with a baseball bat.
40 You need a snub nose .38 for everything else.

41 Zombies are maladous things. 42 They don't groom theselves 43 or comminicate with one another. They, unlike other predatorial animals, 44 are not endowed with natural instict or 45 prowes of hunt. 46 They are retarded and slow and 47 almost completely harmless 48 unless they happen to be traveling in a pack; which is rare- 49 as Zombies are unable to understand the benifits that such a union may bring.

50 So how did they take away our Nintendos?
51 Why are we foraging for berries instead of shopping for food?

52 I guess, eventually, everybody wants a little civility- 53 just like everybody longs to be in love 54 and to do drugs 55 and to have sex..but I promise you, no matter how bizarre it may seem.. 56 before all of this happened- every body who was having sex and doing drugs and falling in love- all of those people were secretly wishing for a Zombie apocalypse. That's no fuckin' joke.

Tu Moxy Returnith

2005-12-20T01:22:00.000-08:00

Begin.

(A tevision set walks across the stage holding a poster board. The television set is smiling, and the board reads;

Animals.)

( Cutain rises to Steck begining a presentation for the exectutive board members of a powerfull television network.)

Steck This is the flop, boys.

(Steck is interupted by a seven well-dressed cave-men ambling towards him from the darkness. They're holding cups of coffee and trays of office muffins above their heads, and are offering them to Steck as if he were a God. Steck keeps them away (but still onstage) with a series of awful clicking noises.)

Steck My show has been number one in the two o'clock socket for more than three weeks, now.

(Steck lights a cigarette to compensate for the crowds lack of enthusiasm. The creatures grunt at the flame.)

Steck: We have grade A actors for third grade prices- and the writers might as well be the most creative monkeys in the universe, because they smile when we give em' checks that make the wellfare swell with pride.

(Steck flicks his cigarette amongst the monkeys, who scatter, but cautiously regroup around the curiously flickering embers.)

Steck Our producers have un-wittingly signed contacts which, for six years, give us intimate rights to the very essence of their souls. We could just as easily disect their still beating hearts for the betterment of clown-monkey research as lace them up in evening gowns to dance the night away.

(The creatures are hopping up and down on their haunches chanting, Steck produces a remote control from his waistcoat and turns on a television in the darkness. The creatures immediatly settle down and begin to moan longingly at the flickering box. Steck continues.)

Steck I don't say this to every suit I encounter, but quite honestly-
I'm very fond of each and every one of you.
I feel we share an unspoken bond of casual professionalism
that reflects upon...some very important things.
It's for this reason that I come to you- instead of your friends
and familes with the pictures and documents that I have 'duplicated'
and taped to the bottom of your chairs.

(In envelopes, on the bottom of every chair- are pictures of geese.)

Steck Protect your eggs, ladies and gentlemen, and protect them well.
Daddy's got salt in the shotgun.
Daddy's not afraid to shoot.

(An OFFICE CLERK walks hurridly across the stage, her arms brimming with professional leather bound books. As she nears center stage, one of the books falls from the stack and lands near the group of huddled creatures. One of them peels its eyes away from the television long enough to glance at the book's fluttering pages, and it approaches it for a more detailed look.)

Steck Now- if any of you feel that I have misjudged your character in any way......please...understand that you are wrong-
I know everything. Everything.
I know what songs your daughter sings in the shower.
I know what your loved ones whisper in your ear before they go to sleep at night.

(The creature reading the book abrubtly stands to his full heighth and continues scanning the pages as he paces around upstage.)

Steck What I want from you is simple. It's the same thing I want from every other living creature on this planet- I want your Goddamned attention.

(The creature looks at Steck- at the book- at Steck- and back at the book again. The creature seems upset)

Steck Nothing more, nothing...

(The creature runs to Steck and beats him over the head with the book. Steck gurgles something incoherant, but is cut short as the creature removes his waistcoat. When the creature turns to speak to the crowd, his voice is cool and refined.)

Creature ...in conclusion-

(The Creature trails off and briefly scans the ranks of his former companions. All of them are staring at him expectantly- hopefully. One of them crawls to coo at the upright creatures feet, but is quickly dejected back into the pool of animals with a swift kick to the chest. The upright Creature smiles and continues.)

Creature ...in conclusion, for your cooperation...

(Enter, stage left, a scantilly clad prostitute holding a poster card which reads; 'TURN', and from stage right, an office clerk holding a tray of muffins. Both are walking a direct route to exit the stage on the opposite end to which they entered, but as they intersect in the middle, the office clerk turns to the Creature and mouths the word "Muffin?". At this time, the prostitute turns over her poster card which now reads "Muffin?")

Creature No, thank you.

(Exit clerk and prostitute.)

Creature -for your cooperation. . . I . .

(The huddled creatures have turned the volume up on thier television set. We can hear the static as well as see it. The upright creature is transfixed.)

Creature Y'know. . for. . the uh. .

(The creatures should be assembled in such a way that their backs are towards the audience. It should appear as if they are sitting inside of a whitewater raft. The upright creature walks to the front of the raft and sits down ontop of the glowing television. Enter Confused Man, stage left, who is holding a Toaster oven, which reads:

RIVER.)

(A white water rafting guide is facing towards his passengers, who have their backs turned towards the audience.)

Joshua OK. If everybody could go ahead and pull their oars out of the water
and place them in the center of the raft...great...I'm gonna try and take
advantage of this calm stretch of water here- and tell you guy's a little
more about what we're going to be going up against today.
First, though; i'd like to introduce myself, uh..I know some of you I met
while we were loading up...Charlie, hey! And was it Delores? Good!
I'm not as bad with names as I thought. Jeez, I almost forgot mine, huh!
My name is Joshua, and I'm gonna be your white water raftin' captain.
Now, we're gonna be goin up against some big, dangerous waters out
there- so don't be fooled by the pamphlet. Fun, family adventure aside-
this is treacherous stuff and I want all of you to be just as prepared as
I am. Are you guys with me so far? Great.
Now, just a quick show of hands; how many of you have white water
rated before? One? Two? THREE! Wow. Three vetran river ponies.
That is great. That is terrific. What that means all of you first timers,
is that we're gonna have a lot of extra support out there today; catching
overboards, rowing counter currents, gettin' those rookies comftorable
with their oars...are there any questions so far?

(Beat)

Joshua No?
Alright...so what I want everybody to do is smile, have a good
time...and let the stream tug us on down the river.
I'm gonna go ahead and curl myself into a ball here at the front of the raft
and try to relax as many muscles as I can before all this Crank and LSD
turns me into a fuckin' serial killer.

(Long uncomftorable silence as the passengers turn worriedly to one another for support. The guide indeed curls into a ball at the front of the raft. After a beat- he begins to make animal noises.)

Joshua Oh, quick note, uh...
Theres a few important turns we need to make up ahead...to avoid waterfalls...death and, y'know...concentrate! Teamwork! Vetrans! Got it?

(He rises partially from the front of the raft.)

Joshua I'm really gonna need that support, okay? Especially the teamwork,
cause'...and I'm going to be completly honest with you guys- the last
time I took this much acid with this much speed, they had to drag us
off the edge of a fuckin' cliff-face with an Apache helicopter and...there
were..at least- several dozen babies coming out of my eyeballs.
And Hey! You know what? Why're you people even talkin' about
helicopters right now? Are we...on...are we on a helicpter? No.
We're having a family adventure on a Raft, and...I want you guys, first
and foremost- to have a good time. Not worry about goddamned Helio
Nazis rakin' Dolphins outta yer stomach- so those turns better matter.
So let's- lets be the come together, like this (He makes a fist in the air)
The big team. (He ducks down suddenly into the front of the raft.) ohmygod...did you see it? What was it?
~Pfooo~

(The guide begins to slap himself. There is a brief moment of composure.)

Joshua Look, uh..Ahem...quick tip here to all you big guys in the boat.
Any big guys? No? Alright, well- in the event I do start to freak out:
if you guys don't see me start to tucker out after the first couple of
thrashes...you're gonna need to try and beat me unconcsious with your
fists or...your oars- or something. Cause if I black out after a seizure-
I'm liable to just...blind rush anything with two legs and the smell of fear.

(ENTER CECIL- apparantly walking on water.)

Joshua -but apparantly people can walk on water now, so...I guess it's not that
big of a deal.

Cecil We took too much, man. Do you think we took too much?

Joshua I don't know. Do you see any moderate looking rapids up ahead?

Cecil What man? What?

Joshua Don't you freak out on me, buzzkill. I'm having a fun family adventure
and I don't want it tainted with your maddness.

Draphian

2005-11-16T20:02:00.000-08:00

When I (Kan) came down to Austin for one of my longer stays here, beginning in the Summer of '02, I actually had the opportunity to finally spend some time with the creature Chadwick. On one of those nights, he asked me only to outline a drawing for him. What I came up with was the black and white version of this picture here portrayed. While I had been drawing, I gave Chadwick my MP3 player, introducing him to the song “Teardrop” by Massive Attack. When the drawing changed hands to him, he kept the MP3 player, and had the song on repeat the entire night as he began shading, coloring and patterning the portrait of the half-dragon, half-phoenix.

I woke up to a picture somewhat like this one, though his spiraling lines and gradient colors are not something I have replicated here. You see, that particular portrait, as the story goes, was picked up by the wind and swept outside of Chadwick’s car to its utter destruction, and so that picture now exists in his and my memory alone. Though this version I have made will ever remind me of it, or the presence of Chadwick or the playing of the song “Teardrop.” That song has enough awesome attachments to it, that playing it is like reading some of your own favorite journal entries all together at once.

~φ~

...and now the News!

Some news on Chadwick. Our brother made squad leader in Boot Camp, then made Tank Commander. He finished Boot, and immediately opted for Ranger Training. Picture a smiling poster child for ADHD straddling a tank turret, swinging a cowboy hat in one hand and yelling for everyone to open fire. That is the image that entered my head when hearing this, although Chadwick has exceeded every expectation… sine one thing… you can always expect him to be surprising. He’s certainly succeeded. What a story. What a life!

...end commercial...

A vast Multitude of Donkeys

2005-08-24T20:40:00.000-07:00

VastMultitudeOfDonkeys
"Do you know what we need, right now?"

"What? Purpose?"

"Nope."

"Chicks?"

"nuh-uh. A legion of donkeys."

"We need donkeys more than chicks?"

"No- A legion of donkeys, man...pack animals;

for us and all our stuff."

"We don't have that much stuff."

"So?"

"So...how many donkeys are in a legion?"

"Thousands."

"...right- and theres only two of us...so..."

"So?"

"Okay, well...I guess I just don't understand."

"We need a legion...because a legion can split into three equal hordes."

"A horde?"

"Yes. A vast multitude of donkeys."

Mexico

2005-08-24T19:19:00.000-07:00

(Editor: All the following entries were written by Chadwick, then torn out of their various books, copied, pasted together [in an order only the mind of the writer understood] and rebound to resemble a notebook. I have selected those related to each other through the trip the writer and I took into the depths of Mexico, back up into the Yucatan Peninsula, and then back towards America. My intention here, as with his other writings, is for the preservation of his work--the transcription from paper to hypertext; not editing. The entries below may or may not have any chronological order, as I--who was there--have had to organize each page by my own memories which, after reaching Campeche and beyond, wasn't very temporally sound...at all...)

                      [Ed. Begin Entries...]                        

  Asleep on the shore with his hands over his head
and the deep Mexican sunlight washing through the
cloudless outereaches of the distant horizon, he
wakes up and belches water onto a swarm of insects-
Watches the liquid slip into the rivers currents.
A bird passes overhead and black clouds dust his
vision.  More water from his lungs and a choke.



  Asleep on the shore with his hands over his head,
the deep Mexican sun washing through his grey
crackled face.


 and the deep Mexican sun is washing over his
features as the no rain/no clouds temperment of
this place could never do

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

Phrase for the day.
    !Damas para peasos!
       we're going for a walk.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

                                                I
  So, after we hit the church and               m
make a sign - Carlos hits us up
  and gives us a ride.                          a

Now, there are many words for Carlos.           b
            Fat, comes to mind.                 a
      and Smart, is another.                    g
      ... Funny....too....
         oh... and mexican.                     o
                                                f
          truly mexican 
                                                l
(Note. i feel bossy - ordering Jaya around      a
       to speak Spanish for me.  its....        u
       unsettling.)                             g
                                                h
      he speaks just enough english             s
      to make him a fucking scholar
      in my book.                               h
     narrowing out                 these        e
hugely difficult                                r
words...not                                     e
to ask who
was (which he                  had done with    b
grace) or where were going (that had            u
 already been established with the Sign)        d
 but to eschew upon us a vastly simpler         d
and intelligent worldview-given only when       y
 asked - and added upon only when
 neccesary.  He was brilliant...

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

Fanterrific.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

and when he dropped us off at the border,
he felt obliged to walk with us inside
Until he felt we were safe.
             Not a penny was exchanged
             Gracias, buddy.

                Nuevo Laredo.
         began with Chaos.

         Some dude named joe outside
        a pharmacy asking us if we
         wanted any Special-K,
         viagra, oxys, up, down,
         leftwards, downwards......

         then some dude next to a
         horse...
             " You wanna see girl cho'
            bars? donkey? donkey cho'.

                No donkey cho, bro'.
                  " oh."

            we  exchanged $10 into
                   100 pesos
           and then stood outside of some
           freakshow ice-cream parlour.
           trying to understand Mexican
           economy (the value of a peso
          by purchasing cokes and cigarettes,
               and tequilla.....hmmm

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

grasping the basics, we fought through the
pill nazi's and broke into something
at least slightly resembling reality - but....
in reality... resembling more something
slightly resembling ^similarmore fucking chaos.

       it was.... ohmygod.
       i felt like a Suburban teenage-virgin
       girl being peer pressured into mainlining
       heroin by the Southside LA crips

              muy bueno.
              esta bien.
             mucho weird...

       Then the train.  we followed it down
          the tracks to where it

                   180'd

              and were wondering if we
              could hop it, and if so-

                oh jesus this isnt happening.

                 butifitis

then....then.... if all of these schoolchildren
can hop trains to their houses after thier
studies are done.....

   we can surely.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

but first, methamphetamines.
     The guy @ the counter
      of the pharmacy said,
       and this is after numerous
      Sketches (by myself)
       and the resulting translations
       (by jaya) - that Aderal
       was not available
        And he said it with Such
        gusto that I knew it wasn't
        legal anyway.

* Note: Mexico smells just as I
    imagined=Mexican...  good
     and bad in the same weird
      aroma.

    This led us (stupidly) to another
  pharmacy where, when denied our Money -
   we fell frowning into charlie-who had
   been waiting for us outside the
    pharmacy after witnesing our
     last debachle....and who had
      "You want pills?" he asked.
      #$%&^%&@!!#@ only one functioning
hand.      it looked like a gingerroot.
      "pills?"
      "Aderoll"
      " Si."
      "Terrific."
           and we were off.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

down a winding road and into a
smoky bar - out of a smokey bar and
into a crowded street.Out of there
and into more weird places.
      And then there was the R_x office.
       or...'Medicos'....
       ginger skipped where, following
      ginger skips lead, we tromped
      into a bare, stinking, Hot-wooden
       box of a storefront and into
       a lamp-lit cabnit office with
       a fine ass chicana secretary
       smiling for us to come in.

            police! i thought!
            we are fucked.
           McMexican Jail.
               no good.

 So not good, i thought, that if this
daffy bitch trys to get stumpy here
 to restrain me,,,i will eat her soul
  with my mind and plant^{her little}bug-eyed
  mexican pop-tart out with the radishes
  where he belongs.

       " Pills? " she asks
        did she say jail . I tense .
      "No,pills goddamn it,pills!"

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

and we are handed a menu.
    i am crying inside.
this sheet of paper cannot be real.
  oh but  it is....
    real expensive as well.
       but real nontheless.

   "we cannot aford this" Jaya says,
   " How much can you afford ?" Stumpy asks.
   " Not this, and these are what we
     want.Sorry," and we stand to leave.
   "wait,wait. What do you have?"
   " Not enough." but as he says this,
    I slip him my cd player.and
    he smiles.   
   "We have this and 20 dollars .
    Take it or leave it."

      More winding roads
    into another shop. we aproach
   a park - he motions at a
    place for us to sit.

   " Now. You give $20 to me."
    "No"We say. "Are you fucking
     crazy?"
    " You can watch," he motions
      to a building

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

   and we did ...and he eventualy
resurfaced from the rubble of pale-
obnoxious colors to motion for us to follow.
   and we did....
            exchange made.
          one more....ginger root shake....
           and "poof."

         into Stephen
         another... guide...I guess.. ..
               and he takes us to a bar
               ~~~  where we drink
                ~~~ and cover our adderoll
                 ~~~  or rittalin, or whatever.
  By this point, it is clear that we are not
crossing back over the border, In fact, it seems
as if we might push ourselves to Brazil
 by morning, and with this in mind-

   " is there a local bus How much are
     bus tickets   out of here? "

    " To where? "

    " To Merida."

    "¿a Que es distancia esta Merida?"

    "How the fuck should  we know ?  "

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

   actually we didn't say that.

" 200 bucks",he says as I wine.

        so much for the
         chicken bus.

I have no passport, by the way....
      and, while, getting into
      the bordertowns is an easy
      task -
           getting past the first
           checkpoint is not.

         They check, I suppose for
         criminals.

            Thus,we plan.

As for the train- no good...I dunno why,
but no good... Stephan said they check that
shit @ a seperate checkpoint 13 miles into
Mexico, as opposed to the 35 miles on the
road,^andAs only one checkpoint is daunting
enough on its own-the idea of cracking
through another one seemed like torture.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

As for talking my way out of it - no way -
 no go at all -  I can barely ordercoffee
 without getting some sort of black tar
 heroin in its place^and I can't imagine where
 trying to persuade the Mex border controll
 would ^land me--probably the electric chair
 pinata or some bullshit like that.

 Ah, and then of course, thes the^12milehike around
the checkpoint, which...while sexy in its
own right ... is not .... at all . . . .
           and fuck that....

 but.... after taking the city bus ( which
people (oh god this is silly ...)hit...to...stop....
                 mmm...hmm....
                 heha...he...hee...
                   HA HAHAAAAA!!!
!whew!
  -after taking the city bus as far down as
  10 miles out of the city, (awesome) @#$!%^@
  ^%&%$# @#% we stoped at this a
    The city bus took us to a restaraunt
  10 miles out of the city.  We ate.
           Jaya took off his shoes.
           we popped pills.
         !%@#%@!!!
           we left
     we walked with our thumbs outstretched
  to the highway on our left, and our

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

slumped beaten shoulders arched to the
field of trash on our right.
       The deep, red, mexican
       sunset lay rosy somewhere
       between.

   Night.
          PEMEX station.
            Truck stop.
       and  oh thank heaven for
     mexican truckers.
         They can
   it was suggested^thatwe g get someone
   to drive us across in a trailer,
   and remembering thinking of my
   family and friends subconsiously
   urging that this suggestion be
   dismissed outright -
            i agreed.

       So here we are.
           waiting.

   i feel bad having Jaya spend his
   last week alive with me.
         i feel like dead weight.

           but wait,
      we got picked up.
          by Pablo Alton.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

|This entire notebook should be
|devoted entirely to Truck drivers.
|
|pablo | Uriel
|
|     Mexican Truck drivers specificaly
|
|         JAYA WILL KILL US
\_{~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~}

          i woke up in the back
          of some semi-
           nono    pablos semi....
           truly in Mexico..
                  Now....
                  Shit.....

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

  i drew that picture because I was
nervous....I was nervous because
Pablo was trying to sell me to Maria
a hot older woman.
                 Hot
     like...
         anyway...i think my...er...
       Pablos pill kicked in....
                 Rosie is....
                  hot too....
         I think ....
               I just...
               woke up here.
                bueno.
               oh so mui bueno!
       maybe this page should come to a close.
            before I do.

        No...

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

  There, we walked down the highway
in dissapointment after three city busses
 passed us by at the bus stop .

       we drank EmergenCy
         with many juice
           (and peach)
       then walked into the lego jungle
           (as it were)
         complete with stray horses
         and a creepy - gaudy playground.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       
                               ^{(What is it
                              with us and busses)}
 Sketchy.  Shaky.

  its all good untill somebody shouts
their footoff.

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting here in thiss coffeeshop,
       in that coffee shop.
    i am here now-
    in some motel south of linares

we took a bus from Monteray
to we bought a bus ticket
from Monteray to Montemorelos
but stayed on until linares
wh remained on board past
when our stop came to pass.
Now, we had hoped that
the bus would take us on
 into Ciudad victoria
or  even  Tampico , but when
 everybody filed out in
   linares - we had
 little left   but to do
the Same.
     This proved to be
   somewhat of a mistake
     it seems.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

 perhaps, in reflection, deciding to lie
and remain on the bus was the mistake.
 however, in contrast, 
   But whatever the turning point,
     we were now in the desolate
   Mexican version of^anabsolute gringo
   hell.... sort of.
       it kind of reminded me of
   what Nuevo Laredo was supposed
   to be like after dark-
     except it was 4:00 in the
     afternoon and the donkeys
     were still in the stables
     with the other animals.

  Kan, as I will ^now call Jaya from
this point on, decided to pass on the
cyber cafe in the bus station (and another
on a street nearby) for the public library
about 20 blocks down the street. .
   There, he said, we would find what
   we were looking for.
           oh, Kan.
 The public library, it turned out, was the
 (which was called the culture center).
 is, in fact, a 'culture center', and amongst
 the many books (all in spanish ... and*note
as i grumbled in aggrivation at the tedious arduous
task of translation - Kan pointing, smiling,
 to the childrens section..and I immediatly

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

become more studios)- amongst these
books and galleryesque  black/white
photographs ... there were @ least
 35 policia, in uniform, at some type
 of seminar in the center.
   This i knew not of, when mentioning
 my terrible hitchhikers stink to Kan,
 (who ^thussuggested a speedy departure
  to the beach (or Tampico)
  he suggested we leave for the road immediatly
 not realizing that the 35 policia
 were mirroring our intentions-
          and exiting en mass
       from the door parallel
        to the library.
   ( I... by the way ....
         still have no passport,in case
any of you might have thought somehow
 conjectured that my ass was, in fact,
  a government office.)

 imagine stealing

    imagine stealing costumes...
   from the^aclown tent psychic
  clown tent - only to realize
  that the entire orginization
 was having a meeting in the
porta-potty not two blocks from
       your car.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

 dealing with American police, however,
gave us somewhat of an edge, and as
 Jay Kan moved to approach a particularly
  small group of^theclowns-i nodded my
       psychic head in agreement and followed
  looking purposfuly Confused.

   "¿Te donde Aieres?"
    "Austin de Tejas."
         I nod
    "tu carro?"
   "No, no ... carrillo."
     "Carrillo?!"
     " Si "
      I nod.

     anyway all this shit happens
     after we goto a church and pray -
           we end up in a motel
             Where we meet

            Guillermos and Raphael-
                 \/
 outside of the apartmant

         many -many miles to
             |
            Here_{__the Beach.}

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

They say no, no ...
 banditos...
      stay here. .
     So we sleep on their roof.
       in the morning, they
       tell us to come back
       before the following morning -
       and we've got rides to
      -villahermosa-
           so off we walk into the
           Jungle-
               -so far-
                -far-
            and then here.

with  No  money.
      No  food.
      No  water.

    but with a ride even further
    into the jungle.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

  Im surprised at how relentlessly
 cool Mexico is - and how tolerant
 and accepting it people always
 seem to be.
  I am always in awe of the transiant charm
of this place - and of the giant, soul-
sucking mosquitos which plauge my
every waking step ... no...good thoughts...
the sunset...the... happy ... fun....
sweltering maddness of the sun...
           So. . . not ... Good
 i ...hate .... the nights here.
     i love the days.

  if i could say goodbye to mexico, if i
could voice my images of her to some
red-cross thank-you box in the sky-
         i would say gracias -
        and please get rid of the bugs....
           because goddamn.

             Goddamn.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

 This country is....wicked pimp.
       like nobody's fucking buisness.

            but...
this is kind of rough.
          we are ... 25klm north of veracruz.
    we might be catching a ride into the
   city tommorrow morning, ... but as
   of now- we're on Some beach
   in the middle of nowhere.
      when Raphael and Jerry
      dropped us off in         
    we immediatly went to find
    some coffee--i wanted to smoke
    all of my cigarettes - all of them.
        i'm just zoning out--sorry -
           uhh....
    we got aphone card - but didn't use it.
    walked on the turnpike due east-
          (to the beach)
    and ended up at some families
    home at the edge of the Jungle -
        "Donde esta las playas?"
        They tell us through..there...
            Somewhere...pointing
      ....into the Jungle... ..
        we start to walk..
          its night.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

So   i dug Kans pocketknife out of
my knapsack and sharpened a walking
staff into a spear and
           turned to the only other
       thing i could - Lamar.....
        the fucking ocean.

Now, before i continue - for those
 of you who don't know me-
         i am pale-
       deathly pale
           white-
        as gringo as they come-
      only one step above albino.

  Mexican Sun Cooks me.

          i do not tan.

   On my way here- i had my arm
    out the window of Jerry's truck
         and it burned bad .

      to ... somewhat protect myself....
     i cut off the legs of my dickies
    and tied them the loose fabric
      around the exposed area,
    hoping that my skin would not
     crisp and become infected-

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

Not realizing that the defincincy of
nutrients would render my already
weak sunblock almost completely useless -
       I stood in the sea unafraid.

i am paying dearly for that mistake now.

  though  coffee, cigarettes and sweet bread
make me happy - i am still suffering
imensly for my stupid blank despondancy.

  But the Mexican night is cool
and it soothes both skin and soul simultaneusly-
       i am lucky to be here.
        i love my life - and I thank my
      friend for allowing me to participate
     in his quest for closure- in his
     journey to live.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

... a little too much sun.
      No..from there -
       we walked more -
        two - three hours more -
  and  allow me to reiterate the
   list of our meager inventory -

            everything we started with
            except for _only 10 dollars

              -no cigarettes
              -no more Rygar
              -no more tequilla
              -very little water
              -no food

I had felt this way before -
      so ... completely NOT GOOD
   that the world around me
   lost all sense of beauty and truth
        Homesickness
    nost so much from the
    absence of friends or family,
     but from the absence of
       comfort -  from the
        comfort that comes
       with having friends
     and family.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

 i would look @ Jaya and... even
though he is both a friend and family-
 since he could offer no comfort @ the
 time -he became only a ghost of
 what i knew
     essentialy - my discomfort defined
     me with^sucha disturbing clarity, that
which served to make me even more
uncomftorable        when we finaly
 did  get  to the beach-
  i was such a nervous wreck that i
could only enjoy the place for mere
  moments before becoming miserable
   and unconsolable.
     Badly needing food and water-
  I unsuccsesfully attempted to pillage
   coconuts from the nearby trees, since
     Some one had already foraged
     the fallen fruits -i was forced to
  monkey around with sticks and rocks for
    nearly three hours before becoming
     even more depressed than i already
      was and abandoning the project
      altogether.
          This was rock bottom.
          Jaya was asleep beneath
      our shaded 'blanket tent'- the
                 coconuts were laughing
        at me... i was hungry -
        unhappy-

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

  yet we escaped, and as you
might have noticed from the last
page of sorry, surrendered
depression .... things got a little rough.
      we left the rooftop
      @ Sunup expecting
      the road we observed
      the previous evening to
      continune all the way
      to the beach.
        Mexico will have none of
  that, thank-you.
     instead - it abrubtly ended
    on the edge of some corn
    Field where-a... path...i guess
    you could call it.... led to another
    path (these turned out to be
    drainage ditches) and ended
    again  at the crossing of a
    thick vegetetive river - waist deep
    with reeds  and  jungle foliage and
    Completely covering the flowing water
    itself.
     it was here that I morphed my
   body into a helicopter and flew
   us both to the land of free drugs
   and cigarettes.
     There, we met Jerryjim McFicklehorn
   and became^the temporary rulers
   of ......

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

           (with Sunburn and purpose)
 i didn't think the sunburn would get worse..
i honestly did not.
     ithought...oh...its red....
            thats it.
but no... Mexico will have none of that, thank you.

          i cannot move.
        my body is dependent on shade
        and immobility.

  if this were a vacation- I could retire to my bed
and complain how my time was ruined by the sun,
but we have to push on - on ....
        we have business to attend.
        Kan has to kill demons - and I have
        to write it down.
  As bad as a sunburn can be without
 money or comfort - its really all I have
  left aside from my purpose.
             so i walk with it,
            become its friend.

 we arrived in Coaxtucoal at 1:30 on
 the 28th of march, and
         my body is a deep fried
         chicken strip.

     These fucking Jungle cities ....
         Jeez...

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

i stopped and prayed again on the way
here.
   Almost immediatly after getting off
in the city - we saw train tracks-
          | leading|
          |   to   |
          |Campeche|
          |  and   |
          |T H I S |
          |  was   |
          |G O O D |

  But, after waiting...er...sleeping....
  at the 'bus stop. (again, the busses
  dont really stop unless you catch their
   attention) for almost three hours--
        i dunno..
    we needed coffee,
     Unfortunatly -the people are
   catholics and refuse to open shop
     before three- so we had to
   walk^forquite a ways before finding
    a place with coffee.

Anyways - here we are -
         staring @ two fine ass senoritas
   who are
         ~ ahem ~

      Staring back and smiling

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

    Catching the train   will be
hell.
       Hell on my Sunburn.
         Hell

But, whatever.  if this...
            shit-
              I'm zoning out again.



      its  this burn.
          OH!   Woe!  Woebe
      my fucking back! Fuck!!
        Fuck this fucking Sunburn!!


(A ship in harbour is safe, but that
 is not what they are builtfor.)
           author unknown.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

  I want.... hmm.... a blonde
Somebody...er.... Sort of blonde somebody-
     in my bed, in Austin.

  But now.... i want a story.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Soooo many hot senorita burritos-
     my chorizo is- yearning.

  i'm not quite sure if you're supposed to
 tip in this place - but.... we don't.
              er.

 Kan just called my sun burn
 "Strawberry cream"... i hate him.

    I'm not quite sure exactly
  why I'm here. I have a...vauge
   notion of what I'm supposed to
   be doing - but even that tends to
   blur arpimd tje edges @ times.
      what do  I know?

      Constant itching sux-
       Constant itching is a symptom
       of a recovering sunburn.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

   Sunburns are caused by the Sun-
      thus-
         Fuck a whole
         bunch of the sun.

i also hate mosquitos- there is no
 becoming a mosquitos friend.

      One cannot walk with a
       mostquito-
      and to Cut any smartasses off at
      the mark-
    one cannot Fly with a mosquito
    either.

      The dogs here are really
    unfortunate animals.
 if  it dosent have three legs or
 a  distended asshole -  then its
    either starving to death
    or thouroughly retarded.
    we saw one with two
    nutsacks.

 aside from the three legs bit-
i wonder if because of the language
 barrier- I am unable to determine
  if the same rule applies to
   the humans here.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

 So... checking out the busses-

   Campeche is....
   a bit too expensive.
 300 pesos per person.
         no thank you.
  instead we opt for a hike.
         to where?
          how?
        idunno
  but lets get the Fuck outta here.
          i can't tell which is worse ...
    the terrible burning
 or the terrible itching.
        one thing I do know...
       is
      FUCK
       THA
        Beach.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  One things for sure - i have
 an uncanny gift for spending pesos.
           un.
          canny.
like liquid stuff in my pockets.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

Now this is pretty funny...
  we're sitting @ this bus stop all
day trying to hop a freight train
to Campeche, but - as our luck with
trains is somewhat comparable to our
luck with city busses- all we end
up doing is reading and napping mostly.
       (Fill in gaps with
        stormy children lingering
        about the area.)
at the end of the day, after pleading
with my family to wire us some
 money - we decide to camp out
 somewhere down the street from the
  freight station in a huge,
  Supermarket Construction site filled
  with amongst other things -
         mosquitos.
    This, coupled with my terrible
   Sunburn was .... intolerable.
     So, #@!$#&*...
 On our way back to the bus-stop
i concocted a plan-

" What do you think about staying the
 night in a hotel?"

" With what money?"

" None. Credit. "

" Credit? "

" !Si! "

" Are you- Are you okay, man? Listen, lets
  get you a place to lie down."

" How about there?" pointing to la Haciend hotel.
  Kan was incredulous.  I continued speaking
 as I unhurridly led the way across the
 street--

 "listen, just try and translate for me as best
  you can -

   Ten minutes later, we're fast asleep
 beneath the cool streaming jets of a mexican
 air conditioner.
           The bed was pretty nice too.

in the morning, however- the entire staff is
waiting nervously for us in the lobby.

  One of us can leave while the other
  works to get the money - or both of
   us can wait in the air conditioned

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

lobby smoking cigarettes, watching Tv and
reading while we wait for the western
union to arrive.
    God... I... Love...this fucking
    Country.

  You see, at least until they get slow or
excessivly lazy- smart people don't go
to mexican prisons,
         We go to hotels.
          I'll be in touch.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
  Perhaps iwas ... excessivly egomaniacal in
the previous passages.
        Because, @ anytime - the old man
      running this joint could call up
        the Federalis and have us hauled
        up to a real mexican prison
        where we would undoubtedly be
        raped of our souls,
             but-

estamos lejos de los Estados Unidos
        we are far away from the united states

        estamos lejos de Tejas
         we are far away from Texas.

        ¿por donde esta el parque?

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

  21 mosqito bites - in one evening.
  if I catch Malaria - I'm coming
   back to this country with
   a shotgun and an appitite
   for insects.

          gringos.

We're on a bus heading out to
mayapan and Kan is telling me that
a lot of the fauna around the cities has
been imported.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

  and it is because we hate our lives when we
are given time to reflect upon them in great
detail that we explode with chaose - and
inflict upon this world we love ...the
restlessness it unknowingly bestows upon us.
    We are a product of our environments
   and are only here to test the
   waters for our succesors...whoever they might
   be.

   if there is any truth to the myths of bad
cities being homes to bad deities- then
coaxucoaltos has a nasty bitch of a daddy.
      i think we were brought here
    for a reason.  I think there are
    hunters here.  I think that we should
     return again to
      be certain.but for now-
   to sleep.  To enjoy airconditioning
 while it is available to us.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

  For the futherment of my impure
drive to control.
         If this makes me a bad person....
 Surely it makes Tara Reid the Devil.
        and ... yknow... even as I
 write this down .... I am still wishing
she were here .... holding my hand...
 whispering me to sleep.
  What the hell - how many deaf Austrians
can one meet in a day.  Is there an
expo in Mexico for european hearing aids?
       actually- I only met one....
            - but its still fucking wierd.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

  All of these things compound.  All of my hopes
and fears disolve at the mercy of my benefactors,
while the purpose of my journey - the heart of
my travels and the meaning of my coming here to
begin with - these things, i hope remain the
same.
  I pray these kindnesses do not poison my
mind or spoil the resivoirs of my creativity.
  ... I ... I...I....
  Sometimes Tara Reid or one of her clones will come
on TV @ home in America - and i'll wish that she
were mine and that all of this, her acting and
theatrics, were secretly for my benefit only.
  That when she smiles...she's really smiling at me.
  That when she closes her eyes, it is because i
am there behind her thoughts.
  But then i think of when we go place together and
when we are amongst a crowd of boys who want
to be me, and girls who want to be her-with
me- what that actually accomplishes to be with her
to begin with.
  it seems to be the entire purpose of my wanting
he to begin with- which renders the whole
of my wanting a vain and vile stem
of the imagination.
      Why?
Why does someone like Tara Reid arouse such thoughts.
 Suppose for a moment she was mine for a day....
would it not merely serve to make other girls
jealous?  Would it not make her simply a tool

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

     OK, look ...buddy.

       i no speak psycho babble

  Ok, look people....  I think all of you
are just plain weird.  There is simply
 no excuse for how ...bizarre you all
 are   I mean COMEON, general
      I cant even write a letter without
     getting all creeped out

   "stop writing us, then." you might say.
             ooohhh noooo ....
            I  won't be tricked that
               easily by your devil
                     games.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

         ~~~~~

  Breakfasthowever was good.
   Served by a beautiful woman who served
Kan with sweet eyes all morning.
      this is good.

] Urgon - great black dragon of the
]  desert.  fought with pheonix-
]         pheonix crashed to earth-
]          breaking open ground-
]     Urgon fell in -
]               This happened in Death
]                valley.
]       sin city

         Kaleb
        Chinaman  ]Hunters
         Ra .

 Villahermosa is a nice town-
         i fail to use superlatives (awesome)
to describe its beauty - because of one Brian Cleavland,
a brit who               thinks that Americans
 overuse                  superlatives - missing out
 on the whole purpose of descriptive words.
   He says -
"An American would look @ this cup of coffee
and say - oh this is fucking awesome!
and this is a good cup of coffee....

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

"but what do you do when a truly awesom cup
of coffee comes along."
"Well" I say "Then I say that its the best
cup of coffee I've ever had."
" OK " he says " Then what do you do when
you actually drink the best cup of coffee you'v
ever had?"
I think this over.
"I say... I know I said that other
cup of coffee was the best I've ever had....
but damn... this one takes the cake....
after that.." I reason."its just a measurement
of which cup of coffee 'takes the cake.'"
"Fucking Americans and your fucking circular
logic."
"OK!" I tire of these games. "Its a so-so
cup of coffee."
    Brian grunts his approval.
 Fucking Brits and their fucking pleasantries.
         They kill me.
From now on...'the best'...will be called 'superlative'
  What gets me even more are these New
 Zealander chicks we met.
                goodness..

  I wont bore you all with absurdities- as
this whole documentation is absurd in itself.
Instead, i'll call your attention to the simplistic
nature of our Journeys, which is that life
in its purest form is a lovely thing.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

 But no!
 Alas, on our journey via bus to ciudad del carmen
from campeche the mood miraculously lightened.
 As we were waiting at a stretch of highway    _which
across the penninsula - we met a man whos luck ^stretched
was such that its goodness superceded onto our own.
      we were picked up immediatly,
 and in the back of this truck amidst ... gallons
and gallons of  Super leaded gassoline.....
         The stars shone as I had
        never seen them shine before.
  Cool jungle wind on my face...
  giant fucking bugs slamming into my
  eyes .... and when i turned around...
          on my neck....
           jeez.
  Mexico sure has a way of balancing things
  out for you.  I'll give it that much.

  So now we're in some desolate town near villahermosa,
A hotel room we got for (10$ US.)  The power just went out
and......ohthisisgood...this is funny....
        we noticed that...coming in...
        the owners of the hotel seemed a little....
              fruity.
   But as soon as the power went out-
       The fruits turned out to be a local import.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

   Several gay men @ our door -
 hopping and skipping around.

          I CANNOT SLEEP
          WHILE HOT
           AND ITCHING

These bugs are fucking killing me.
This sweltering heat is maddening.
  I cant concentrate on anything.

Hotel De La Dive

*Dirt Devil (venemous)
*lights go out
 in the who city
 we get knock on-
*ceiling fan
(which does nothing to
 beat away the sweltering
 heat or thick indoor
 clouds of flesh-eating
 mosquitos.. it only
 squeaks.
 The squeaking sounds like birds.
*giant cockroach
*shower
(always dripping water...
 noise amplified by
  hollow room.)
*small dog
(incesant barking
longest stretches
i've ever heard)
*Frontdoor
- where the gay owner
 of the hotel and his
 brother (also gay)
 offer us candlelight
 instead of electricity.
 His two friends (both gay)
 come and tell us how
 pretty we look.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

  Beyond any rational hope for establishing a
fixed set of goals or a fixed, established place...
beyond all that - All we really have now is the hope
of getting out of Mexico in ... one ... bumpy piece.
           is it the 6th of April.  I think it is.
we left on the 22nd of March.
                15 days in.
  uh...i skipped over some shit while in the
Monkey hostel.

  Who knows what the hell to think anymore-
who cares?  Who could possibly want more out
of life than what is given to them by the
natural course of things.

  Yesterday while waiting for a   bus
in villahermosa, we decided to go someplace
cool and get our heads together over drinks-
      the first place we went
      was playing 'Big Trouble in Little China'
Now
  I wont even pretend to know where this is....
       i think when, however is the 7th ...

  Finally the chicken bus!

  Mention the immigrations officer calling us
wetbacks then letting us go!
   Mention the lady at the hotel not allowing
 us to stay because of our previous scum...
      which we paid for!!!

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

Mexisketch comedy is on the tube
in the terminal as we wait for our
bus into Brownsville.
    I'm wondering if it would be as
funny if i actually understood what
 these maniacs were saying to each other.
     would I wince instead of laugh.
 As it stands, spanish to me is still
a googly language to me.
    its remeniscent of what a
   fraggle would speak if he had
    not been influenced by American
     television.
 This whole experience, iadmit, has been more
like a drug-induced train ride through
 an exceptionaly wacky episode of pin-wheel;
where two exceedingly goofed-out astronaughts
 Stare bug-eyed and panicked as our their
  space ship sails vacant into space.

  So lets all burn Squares and Celebrate
nonexistance with the rest of the clowns.
we can all drink coffee and call each other
we'll pop pills till the ground around us bursts into
flames and the sands of time melt into glass from
neath the naked, sweating toes. digits. toes. the
sheer, naked heat of it all.
       we can sink-i tell you-into that which is,
and that which could never ever be in a cool
 gazillion years.   Yup.

                     [Ed. End Page; New Page]                       

 To what purpose do we drive to find meaning
in our lives?  Is it because we are reincarnated,
recycled into imperfect lives @#%$@ always striving
to escape into some obscure form of pure being?
or are we merely reacting to instinct and vary in
character only on the basis of ignorance to
certain types of these instincts?
  Are these people, these abominations .... are they
really spiritual decendants from the inhabitants of
Atlantis? Or are they simply acting out these fantasys
to compensate for a loss of certain instinctual desires?

    What is the truth?
    what is truth?
    does it matter?
   Do these people serve a purpose either way?
   Do I ?

    Kan says that another Seal has been broken.

       I hope so.
       I hope so, buddy.

                       [Ed. End Entries...]

Mathematic Schematics

2005-08-17T20:45:00.000-07:00

 formation of a completley different world in an entirely new realm
of our universe.  Now when I say that our thoughts have formed this
place I don't mean that they are what this place is made of - I only
suggest that they are why this place seems so closely related to our
own world.....

which by the way- no longer exists.

(Argus just stares @ him)

  When humans discovered mathmatics - they discovered a way to
define their universe and employ meaning to the mystical aspects
of the natural world.
  It empowered an already vague suspicion that perhaps things
werent so "luck of the draw" - that maybe there was an order in
what seemed to be absolute Chaos - and perhaps God had been a
little too hasty in placing the schematics of creation where
anybody could take a look.

Lithium

2005-08-17T18:35:00.000-07:00

  The yo-yo sugar circus was a mistake on my part - and for that I
apologize.  The purple locust baboon assassin I mean, To think that
_all the damage they caused on my behalf could have been largly
avoided with something as simple as Lithium or an anger management
class a prescription to Ltihium - its ... it's really quite
depressing and I can only apologize again.  Seriously. I am truly
sorry for any pain I might have cause you the citizens of this
unbelievable city.  Again.

Magic Princess Diary Entry #1

2005-08-05T06:23:00.000-07:00

I guess you could call this a 'journal entry,'
but that would be gay . . . so i will instead
call it my 'magic princess diary entry #1'

             magic princess diary entry #1
                  August 10th, 2004

I had a dream about Brooke last night, and she
was asking my advice on cooking.
"So i can make it myself, then... you think?"
"of course..." i kind of pause.  "Why would you
think otherwise?"
               To this she is stumped.

stop near 'I don't care'

2005-08-05T06:18:00.000-07:00

  Will this bus take me to the place i really want to go?
Is there a stop near 'I don't care' that I don't know about.
My transfer slip suggest not.

Jesus Live!

2005-08-05T06:14:00.000-07:00

-yes.  I am certain that the elevation of my
limbs will improve the circulation of
blood through my body - but my legs give out
instead ...and I fold to the ground like
a lawn chair.
     Moments pass.  People move around.
     A pair of headphones are placed over
     my ears and a flyer is propped against
     a book near my face.
      I begin to view it as I would the 
      corpse of a very dear friend...
           ~ click! whirrrr ~
     "Chad?"
 Come celebrate the LORD w/ Glory Raunch,
as we downshift into a christian Death metal
faithfest at Hell no's back side bar and grill!
     "Chad?"
Yes, Saturday @ 7   you will experience Jesus
as you've never experienced him before..
Live
"calm down, chad.
why
"shhh...This is only-
"And resurected from death!!"
" a panic attack"
   but then there is darkness and a
   cool snug sleep all around.

Ben Folds Irony

2005-08-05T06:00:00.000-07:00

This is an actual entry written by, I believe, Chadwick in “The Black Book.” The irony is, after taking his “old man’s advice,” Chadwick has joined the army.

Well, I thought about the Army.
Dad said, “Son, you’re fuckin’ high.”
And I thought, “Yeah, there’s a first for everything.”
So I took my old man’s advice.
  ~Ben Folds

Letter From the Editor

2005-07-29T14:44:00.000-07:00

Editor, transcriber, something like that. Editing infers a sense that something has been taken out of the work, and my interest--perhaps to a degree denoting a disturbed mind--is in retaining as much of the look and feel of these original works as possible, within the set confines of the internet. I've been given the task of translating whatever I see fit from paper page to electron page, but I'm taking more time to make sure stylistic touches are retained instead of correcting spelling. In fact, I'm leaving spelling as is, and am leaving the punctuation and sentence structures as they are...despite my every impulse...must...place...period...

Why? Because I'm one of many who know and love Chadwick, and prefer this insane intelligence--however rough it may be--to the tamed intellectualism of most. It is a breath of fresh air that yet contains life in a world of half-lives. I'm picking this as a stopping point for todays..."whatever"...but will be continuing on with this project over the course of the next few months.

~Kantiki Manajaya

03.21.04, Entry...

2005-07-29T13:41:00.000-07:00

L|I   I dont wanna be Don Juan
I|
K|S   what time is it?  what day is it.
E|A            monday the 21st of March. .
 |W                    7:00 pm
A|                    9:00 pm
 |E                   10:00 pee-emm
G|T   Jack Daniels watermelon spike coccain.
R|E   "Hey! Hey, can I call you?"
E|R
A|N     Tyson and christy
T|I        in Buda--
 |T         nice house
R|Y           2 acres
I|         listening to 'Jungle' cd (lars's)
N|T           after dinner of fish
G|H            carrots - broccolli - scalloped potatoes
 |E                  over rice.
O|    dogs are babe karoki.
F|O
 |T       !Buda house!
P|H     sat up late talking.
U|E        got tired.
R|R       retired to 'jungle story'
E|    synchronicity of Tysons
 |N        Spanish book
A|I
N|G
D|H
 |T
E|
N|
D|
L|
E|
S|
S|
 |
L|
I|
G|
H|
T|
.|
.|
.|

03.22.04, Entry...

2005-07-29T13:33:00.000-07:00

i can hear jaya talk
about the eye of infinity
 in the other room.
   and now I'm awake.

Bonita.   es... fuck. es . . . Tyson
  amigo es Tyson . . . .
            ohmygodimgoingto Mexico
                 icantspeakspanish.
                 not   a      word.

!Hola!
!Adios!
!Hasta pronto!  (peace-out)
¿Que tal?      (how are you?)
De acuerdo      (I agree)
     word of the day
        llegar a tiempo (to be on time)
    (kind of rude word of the day
     to pick with Tyson sitting at the door
       but I figure it will be ok

03.23.04, Entry...

2005-07-29T13:23:00.000-07:00

34 packs of Emergency.
1 Blanket
#@% Black pants
2 pairs of socks
Black shirt
grey shirt
Blue.....
       whatever...
listen... I might follow Jaya into mexico...
but... I can't do the inventory.....
          sorry, bub.

Carlos would be proud.
  after, of course, he called me a fag.
         That whoe.
  ¿Que es esoh?
  llegar e tiempo, Jaya.  Bueno.
     out of Denny's, good.
Don't be tricked by consumerism, he
Says, laughing.
   well I'm not laughing, buddy...
   and I won't,
  good coffee though.
with such fresh roasted all americaN flavor and
   full   Aroma..... who wouldn't buy
          a  cup... y'know?!
  maybe I will   get some eggs and
 bacon ..... no ... I'm just joking,
            but not about the
            eggs and bacon.
            it sounds good.

03.24.04, Entry...

2005-07-29T13:09:00.000-07:00

   . . damn.
 I'm in Mexico
 How did I get here?
 allow me to tell.
 spill . . whatever.
*first, pardon the handwriting,
 I'm on some
god forsaken city bus
  on road to
    the mexican
      interstate

I'm Sam

2005-07-29T13:05:00.000-07:00

I'm sam.

The name you'll find on the Christmas Card I sent is actually Samual Joseph Dryson, and--while this is my full name--I much prefer the shorter 'sam' to the drawn out monotony of the full title. However, since it was I who made the careless mistake of confusing the names when sending you the card--and since they are after all...my names...

Chadwick & Kan

2005-07-29T10:52:00.000-07:00

[Editor's Note, the editor, in this case, being Kan, Jaya, whatever]: Since there's no profile picture up for the geester who's blog I'm now tending, I'm posting up the only picture I have of him that isn't some pale, pasty waste of monkeyflesh... In fact, some who know Chadwick (on the left) have seen this picture and didn't recognize him. Just wait 'til he returns from the Armed Forces.

08.20.03, Entry...

2005-07-29T10:19:00.000-07:00

  Dear...dear lord ... forgive me for my horible sins, and--on the
same note (and the same sentence, unfortunately) for my horible
spelling.
 This trend of relentless personal destruction must not continue.
There must be an end to my maddness...and...~sigh~...bad spelling.
   [I refuse to rewrite any of this.  So please
     excuse that many of my sentences will
     end with apologetic sidenotes to the
     darker half of my intelect.  Jesus.]
 I am not on drugs...right now.  Nor have I been for many, many
months, er--weeks--um...days...day...day...maybe a few hours...
Maybe.  Many, many minutes if nothing else...but believe me it's
been a relitivly long time (the whole moving train car bit...except
a good portion of my mind was left sleeping on the benches in the
station.) whew.
 That sounded more like a confessional than a complete sentence!
Huh?  Huhhh?!
 Besides my seemingly endless narcotics binge, life is mostly full
of bleak and arctic despair which--while tasty when spread over
most brand name crackers is pretty much useless when trying to
secure a bank account.
 This has not, however, deadend my will to live.  It has only made
it edible to the many demons which have collected in the side
pockets of my ID over the course of my coming of age (something of
which I am sure should happen before one turns 13...NOT 23!)

Perplexis

2005-07-29T10:07:00.000-07:00

Perplexis lives at three-oh-nine West Chiltonberry way
with her Seven older brothers who do nothing every day.
(For those of you who know not what a nothing need imply:
it's mainly just another word for "life without surprise,"
And if surprise is what we use to keep our lives intriguing,
then nothing is a state of mind where something's always fleeting.)

So everyday Perplexis walks to school and then to work
where her mind is always busy and her brothers do not lurk...
but every passing moment strikes another listless hour
where
  helplessly
     she watches
as her brothers' minds go sour.

Now, Lexis loves her brothers more than anyone can know,
and, with every inch they sink to waste, it tears apart her soul.
So walking home from school one day, consumed with righteous anger,
Perplexis formulates a plan to free them all from danger.
And on the morn of Halloween, with jacket bundled tightly,
She packs away her precious things and sets upon the highway.
For waiting round with hopeful thoughts has worn away her patience,
and Lexis now has set upon the trek to reparation.

Santa

2005-07-29T10:00:00.000-07:00



  I will wait for Santa by the Christmas Tree,
where we’ll drink beer for an eternity.

  From his bag



  His profit margins blank for ages
             needs no pockets
             has no wages.
  Grateful words from those he knews
  his only revenue--
       Yet there are those that curse his pages,
       Damning them unadvantageous,
Advertising profit as its proper substitute.
"See, people earn their wealth in stages,
always will and have for ages... what you
ought to do is give it up and follow suit.
'Cause paper wealth in vaulted cases,
locked away in golden stasis,
Numbs/Negates all loathing weights
and tenets you held true."

Results

2005-07-02T23:51:00.000-07:00

  You scored as Paganism. Your beliefs are most closely aligned with those of paganism, Wicca, or a similar earth-based religion. You may also follow a Native American religion.

Paganism 63%
Buddhism 50%
agnosticism 50%
Hinduism 46%
Islam 42%
Judaism 38%
Satanism 33%
Christianity 29%
atheism 29%

http://quizfarm.com/test.php?q_id=10907'Which religion is the right one for you? (new version)
created with QuizFarm.com

From the dazzlecrats

2005-01-29T01:52:00.000-08:00

{two scientists, a man and a woman, are frozen in place on the stage.

The woman is wearing a high ranking, cerimonial lab coat- and is braced with her back against the lab's only visible doorway. She is panicked, afraid.

The man, also in lab coat, is hunched over a large panel of multi colored buttons- his finger jabbing into the largest one on the board. He seems frozen in an unwavering professional resolve.

~long beat~

A young woman carries a cardboard sign from one end of the pit to the other. It reads; Prologue.

The director's head...

2005-01-29T01:20:00.000-08:00

...peeks in from the opposite exit, silently, helplessly motioning for some kind of information. The Young Woman shrugs.}

Young Woman: (without noise) I don't know!

{The director continues signaling for info as the Young Woman heaves a sigh of humiliation at the ground.

There are no charming smiles on her third trek across the pit- just an unhappy girl with an unhappy frown and a very ugly prologue dragging like an unwanted pet behind her.}

[should revise that run-on crap, bull-shit fuck of a sentence...fuck. ~whoo~ FUCK!]

It is only when...

2005-01-29T01:08:00.000-08:00

...the young woman reaches the opposite end of the pit, and falters- glancing with an uneasy hesitation to the unmoving figures on the stage. She stops, her body half hidden by the exit.

Young Woman: (whispered shouting) what...I dunno, wh- what should I...

{She sighs, turns and with a smile no less sincere than her first- hold the sign to the audience and walks from one end of the pit to the other. She is visibly panicked.

2005-01-07T10:10:00.000-08:00

::from the scurges of Tor ((or the animiniums))::

The dreaded slar beasts of !! lay in wait beneath the twin bladed skies of Jar-SKlOff!
Zargon has just emerged from his morning dip in the river of tortured man-blood, and has just decided to stop off for a quick hazelnut scone and a latte- when....