Someplace between here and where sat a man with crossed lags and open eyes, he longed for not... yet always found more in meaning. Not one to question the lesser things in life he found importance had been replaced by ignorance and he had been replaced by me, yet still be there an entity that spits and spouts intelectual retoric in an entertwinds cacophony of sylabols similar to the threads of life. Speaking of, has anyone seen the valet? I've lost myself and the jump never started. I felt tingles in the back of my conscious but they hadn’t yet turned into the screams of life. As I turned to the right I saw myself as someone else, yet I was myself… Strange… They cannot fathom they should be praying to themselves. When life falls do not catch it but watch it. It is much more pleasant for it to pass you by. I feel the need to formulate… anything. I can’t sit idly by why my mind rots, there is still time… just not much though. Traipsing through the thoughts of yonder, placed inside this little jar, held by me with great inside the cage of forced fruition, slaves of thought they dances for me, pawns of time splashing watercolors before my eyes, cool crisp rain flowing through the cortex, pulsing deeply as if I myself am ripples and all surrounding me is solid, holding the liquid of me in solid form. God, I'm fucked up, Amen. I no longer feel myself I am just one of many, a meat puppet, dancing like a fool held by the strings of perception, Cut these free and fall beneath exsistance, below the radar of life, wallow in subversion while watching them prance before your eyes, swirling, whirling, flying above it all, lost inside myself but never looking to escape returns are unpleasent and the throne must I visit soon, feeling the acrid mix of consumtion bellowing for expidiant removal, fight the urges for they aren't you and you aren't them. The daemon of your mind is dancing on the walls. Playing in the shadows of evil concealing the good. Lucifer’s army, Hundreds of thousands of angels arousing the daemon to conquer our souls. So come now children of the daemon. Rubuke your past forms to find spiritual bliss in an orgy of communing spirits all thrown towards the wind scattering where they may. Life inside itself is growing, a fetal endevor of hope, place upon a pedastel, only to fall and crash like every well placed intention, must we die before we find life? Must we remain in the purgatory of misinformation, why is the fat man on TV swinging his arm as to incite a premature heart palpatation? They need guidance, they need reassurance, I need orange juice, Damn I wish that I could walk, I'm not in the mood to crawl to the bathroom, mmm trashcan looks viable. Yes going to (pause for urgent retching sounds) better, orange juice=bad idea. good to skip lunch, Ugh, why has my vocabulary shrunken much like a post ejaculatory epiphany? There is nothing worse than stupidity and I am at the level of my feline conpanions, except they disaprove of my water consuption, why do you stare so coldly? do I not feed you? do I not pet you? do I not allow you to share in my metaphysical exsistance? Can not you once give me any atention when I request it? I have you for it will be. No, go instead of now. you think, I can't to say, for I am, have you ever seen these shades of delight in your memory? Can I stop to share a marshmellow pie? I should have a laser show built into my brain where things come alive and I go along, father must I tread , deep into the heart of humanity to find peace within exsistance. Go into the orchard of your mind and pick the forbiddin fruits, cherish them for a time will come when they will not grow back. For if they rot off the branches of wisdom it is no fault but your so blame none else. My mind hurts and my concious is weakend, the ends aproch now an I grow weary of morrow, the time is come to crawl into slumber and relapse into the dreams of freedom for again it was found and for that I am glad. (Note: I did my best to make sense of this, edited much but most was unintelligable) Doc
Trip Stories Contest
Started By
Guest_the_*
, Sep 26 2002 10:07 PM
222 replies to this topic
#2
Guest_hippie3_*
Guest_hippie3_*
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- Guest
Posted 27 September 2002 - 07:28 AM
great entry, thx for entering our contest.
#3
Guest_the_*
Guest_the_*
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- Guest
Posted 27 September 2002 - 07:51 AM
some cause I can't so no to, they might beat me up you know.
#5
Guest_hippie3_*
Guest_hippie3_*
-
- Guest
Posted 28 September 2002 - 08:09 AM
pretty cool stream-of-conciousness type thing,
gives a pretty good feel for the situation.
anyone else reading this ?
gives a pretty good feel for the situation.
anyone else reading this ?
#6
steveoi812
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- Expired Member
- 9 posts
Mycophiliac
Posted 29 September 2002 - 05:10 PM
Oh yea. I think it was great!
#7
Guest_hippie3_*
Guest_hippie3_*
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- Guest
Posted 30 September 2002 - 08:35 AM
let's see an entry from you,
ohiateonetoo
ohiateonetoo
#8
eyebooger
-
- Expired Member
- 18 posts
Mycophiliac
Posted 30 September 2002 - 12:38 PM
Alden’s nose lifted to test the crisp fall air as he left the putrid cheap meat stench of Burger King. The scent was laden with the ominous snow prophet yet he knew it would be a few weeks till the flakes fell. He stepped out onto the parking lot and walked over to his car still using his tongue as a pick to get the little bits of mystery meat out of his molars. Just as Alden opened his car door a bright flash caught his eye, the glint off of a car windshield. He told himself he should think nothing more of it but there was something about that car the piqued his interests. The second generation gray Honda Accord had seen better days and was in obvious need of a muffler and some paint. Alden watched it speed through the parking lot and come to an abrupt halt outside of the hardware store. The driver quickly jumped out and sprinted for the entrance. Shaking himself out of his temporary trance Alden got into his car and proceeded to go about his Saturday afternoon errands.
Janelle was on hour seven of her ten hour double shift for the day. The steady stream of customers to her register had put her in a temporary trance and it seemed that her vocabulary consisted of the same nine words, “Hello, did you find everything you were looking for?” She was tired of dealing with checks and cash. She wanted to further numb the drudgery by not dealing with numbers and extra forms and papers. One customer after another, her battle cry, “Please sign in the box on the screen.” She was temporarily jarred from her monotony when the door opened abruptly and a man walked in at a swift pace. He was tall, brown hair, medium build, and obviously determined as he went directly toward the back of the store. Returning to the task at hand she dismissed the incident and went about her inner monologue. Pipe wrenches, compost bags, paint cans, screws, nails, sandpaper, duct tape, all went through her register. She didn’t know what they were for, nor did she care, as long as her husband got the ten percent discount. She could always tell when someone was up to no good. PVC pipe, an abundance of end caps, spray paint, industrial size markers, and teenagers buying driveway floodlights were items she had been taught about in employee training that put up a flag. She checked the next customer’s identification because he was buying a whole rainbow of spray paint. The next customer in line laid out a potpourri of items that she couldn’t possibly fathom what he was up to. Unless this guy had serious home and auto issues he must be up to something. She gave him a disapproving glance but went about the sale in her usual manner thinking, “As long as he doesn’t do anything to hurt me.” The customer paid in cash which irked Janelle but not enough to get much more than a sigh out of her.
Peggy had just come from a heated argument with her landlord regarding the drabness of the garbage chute closet. She wanted her building to look nice and there was no excuse for the tortured walls, it was quite the abomination. “I hope my dinner guests never see this,” she thought to herself. Not that she would ever have any. Peggy lived by herself on the top floor of a seventies model apartment building downtown. She promptly went to bed at eight, rose at six, and had three square meals a day. She liked everything quiet and any disruption of her solitude bore grave consequences. Her neighbor to the south was having a party that night and had forewarned her as they can get very crazy and often last until three or four in the morning. “Thank God she is the only one on the floor that feels the need to do this”, Peggy thought to herself. The elevator door opened and she made her way to the garbage closet for a final critique but more for something else to do to eat up the day. She heard the other elevator open and footsteps coming her way. Turning off the light in the closet she opened the door just enough so that she could see who it was. Her neighbor to the north was at his door fumbling with the many keys on his ring. She thought, “See, ten years ago I wouldn’t even have to lock my door. It’s all these kids causing us problems.” Her neighbor had just moved in last year and she had only spoken to him briefly. He was very guarded and quiet, yet friendly. He also very rarely had guests over if any at all that she knew of. Normally she wouldn’t think twice about it but some afternoons she could hear the drone of power tools working away behind his door. She chalked it up to him building shelves or and entertainment center but something inside of her told her that there was also something else. She watched him open both locks and shove a few boxes inside with his feet while holding several bags. Peggy couldn’t make out what was in the bags or written on the boxes but she did become even more suspicious when he swung around and looked her right in the eyes, or so she thought. He did a once over of the hall and slinked into his apartment barely opening the door enough for him to get through.
Andrea was at her wits end. All of her tenants were complaining of this and that and none of them really had anything good to say. They were complaining for the sport of it, for something to do. The last complaint was from the damn lady upstairs that wants us to paint the garbage chute closet. “Why don’t we put glitter on the garbage bags too, so the garbage men feel happy taking out pretty trash”, she said sarcastically aloud to herself. She did have to deal with one complaint at that moment, a leak in 912. She called up Greg, the maintenance man, and told him. Then it dawned on her that she would have to go into 1012 to check the pipes. She hated that apartment; the renter had only lived there about a year but he was very quirky. He was a nice enough guy but some of the stuff she would see in his place just gave her the creeps. It was like a homemade lab assembled around a living area; a living, breathing, apartment. She couldn’t yell at him because she had no idea what it all was. She previously had meth labs in her building so she could spot one of those and this it wasn’t. She knew he wasn’t a dealer because random people weren’t in and out of the building at every hour of the day going to his apartment. She steadied her nerves and called him…no answer. This didn’t’ surprise her, he was hardly ever home anyways. His parking spot was right outside of her balcony and she looked to see if his beat up Honda was there, it was. Greg walked into the office and they proceeded to the elevators. When they came to the door they heard a noise, a heavy mechanical breathing sound, and paused briefly to look at each other in wonder. Andrea knocked but there was no answer. Greg turned his master key and slowly opened the door to see a strange glow emanating from the living area. There was a loud click and the strange blue-green glow from inside was gone. Greg and Andrea jumped back; she was really going to lay it on the tenant this time if she found that damn cat in there again. They both stepped forward cautiously. Everything looked in place and normal. The kitchen had quite a few dishes piled up in the sink, “But who am I to judge”, Andrea thought to herself. As Greg rounded the corner from the entrance he stopped, his mouth agape. Andrea nimbly crept up behind him and peered around the corner.
Infrared cameras were strategically placed throughout the apartment, a bank of timers hung from a power strip; several lighting devices were placed above what looked to be a Rubbermaid coffin. This is what caught the attention of Greg and Andrea. They stood in awe for a good five minutes trying to figure out what all the wires, tubes, conduits, and gadgets did before making another move. Greg slowly made his way to the chamber with Andrea one step behind. Ever aware that the camera eye was recording there every move they knew that their actions were highly illegal but the thirst for the answers could not be quenched. The closer they came to the chamber the brighter the strange glow appeared. As Greg raised his hand to grasp the lip of the lid something mechanical clicked and one of the gizmos that looked like a humidifier on steroids started to purr. As Greg regained his resolve his hand grasped the lid, sweat beaded on his forehead, and he was very aware that what he may see could cost him his life. Andrea gave him a firm nudge and Greg slowly lifted the lid. A plume of moisture emerged much like dry ice from a witch’s cauldron at a Halloween party. As the lid was lifted higher the fog dispersed and tiny heads became partly visible. They appeared to be growing off of something beneath the bottom layer of fog that the device was spewing forth. Andrea crouched down and waved her hand to ward off the mist and to her amazement…mushrooms
Hope you enjoyed that, I know my writing style needs work but I had to put something out there to contend with the good Doctor
-Eyebooger
Janelle was on hour seven of her ten hour double shift for the day. The steady stream of customers to her register had put her in a temporary trance and it seemed that her vocabulary consisted of the same nine words, “Hello, did you find everything you were looking for?” She was tired of dealing with checks and cash. She wanted to further numb the drudgery by not dealing with numbers and extra forms and papers. One customer after another, her battle cry, “Please sign in the box on the screen.” She was temporarily jarred from her monotony when the door opened abruptly and a man walked in at a swift pace. He was tall, brown hair, medium build, and obviously determined as he went directly toward the back of the store. Returning to the task at hand she dismissed the incident and went about her inner monologue. Pipe wrenches, compost bags, paint cans, screws, nails, sandpaper, duct tape, all went through her register. She didn’t know what they were for, nor did she care, as long as her husband got the ten percent discount. She could always tell when someone was up to no good. PVC pipe, an abundance of end caps, spray paint, industrial size markers, and teenagers buying driveway floodlights were items she had been taught about in employee training that put up a flag. She checked the next customer’s identification because he was buying a whole rainbow of spray paint. The next customer in line laid out a potpourri of items that she couldn’t possibly fathom what he was up to. Unless this guy had serious home and auto issues he must be up to something. She gave him a disapproving glance but went about the sale in her usual manner thinking, “As long as he doesn’t do anything to hurt me.” The customer paid in cash which irked Janelle but not enough to get much more than a sigh out of her.
Peggy had just come from a heated argument with her landlord regarding the drabness of the garbage chute closet. She wanted her building to look nice and there was no excuse for the tortured walls, it was quite the abomination. “I hope my dinner guests never see this,” she thought to herself. Not that she would ever have any. Peggy lived by herself on the top floor of a seventies model apartment building downtown. She promptly went to bed at eight, rose at six, and had three square meals a day. She liked everything quiet and any disruption of her solitude bore grave consequences. Her neighbor to the south was having a party that night and had forewarned her as they can get very crazy and often last until three or four in the morning. “Thank God she is the only one on the floor that feels the need to do this”, Peggy thought to herself. The elevator door opened and she made her way to the garbage closet for a final critique but more for something else to do to eat up the day. She heard the other elevator open and footsteps coming her way. Turning off the light in the closet she opened the door just enough so that she could see who it was. Her neighbor to the north was at his door fumbling with the many keys on his ring. She thought, “See, ten years ago I wouldn’t even have to lock my door. It’s all these kids causing us problems.” Her neighbor had just moved in last year and she had only spoken to him briefly. He was very guarded and quiet, yet friendly. He also very rarely had guests over if any at all that she knew of. Normally she wouldn’t think twice about it but some afternoons she could hear the drone of power tools working away behind his door. She chalked it up to him building shelves or and entertainment center but something inside of her told her that there was also something else. She watched him open both locks and shove a few boxes inside with his feet while holding several bags. Peggy couldn’t make out what was in the bags or written on the boxes but she did become even more suspicious when he swung around and looked her right in the eyes, or so she thought. He did a once over of the hall and slinked into his apartment barely opening the door enough for him to get through.
Andrea was at her wits end. All of her tenants were complaining of this and that and none of them really had anything good to say. They were complaining for the sport of it, for something to do. The last complaint was from the damn lady upstairs that wants us to paint the garbage chute closet. “Why don’t we put glitter on the garbage bags too, so the garbage men feel happy taking out pretty trash”, she said sarcastically aloud to herself. She did have to deal with one complaint at that moment, a leak in 912. She called up Greg, the maintenance man, and told him. Then it dawned on her that she would have to go into 1012 to check the pipes. She hated that apartment; the renter had only lived there about a year but he was very quirky. He was a nice enough guy but some of the stuff she would see in his place just gave her the creeps. It was like a homemade lab assembled around a living area; a living, breathing, apartment. She couldn’t yell at him because she had no idea what it all was. She previously had meth labs in her building so she could spot one of those and this it wasn’t. She knew he wasn’t a dealer because random people weren’t in and out of the building at every hour of the day going to his apartment. She steadied her nerves and called him…no answer. This didn’t’ surprise her, he was hardly ever home anyways. His parking spot was right outside of her balcony and she looked to see if his beat up Honda was there, it was. Greg walked into the office and they proceeded to the elevators. When they came to the door they heard a noise, a heavy mechanical breathing sound, and paused briefly to look at each other in wonder. Andrea knocked but there was no answer. Greg turned his master key and slowly opened the door to see a strange glow emanating from the living area. There was a loud click and the strange blue-green glow from inside was gone. Greg and Andrea jumped back; she was really going to lay it on the tenant this time if she found that damn cat in there again. They both stepped forward cautiously. Everything looked in place and normal. The kitchen had quite a few dishes piled up in the sink, “But who am I to judge”, Andrea thought to herself. As Greg rounded the corner from the entrance he stopped, his mouth agape. Andrea nimbly crept up behind him and peered around the corner.
Infrared cameras were strategically placed throughout the apartment, a bank of timers hung from a power strip; several lighting devices were placed above what looked to be a Rubbermaid coffin. This is what caught the attention of Greg and Andrea. They stood in awe for a good five minutes trying to figure out what all the wires, tubes, conduits, and gadgets did before making another move. Greg slowly made his way to the chamber with Andrea one step behind. Ever aware that the camera eye was recording there every move they knew that their actions were highly illegal but the thirst for the answers could not be quenched. The closer they came to the chamber the brighter the strange glow appeared. As Greg raised his hand to grasp the lip of the lid something mechanical clicked and one of the gizmos that looked like a humidifier on steroids started to purr. As Greg regained his resolve his hand grasped the lid, sweat beaded on his forehead, and he was very aware that what he may see could cost him his life. Andrea gave him a firm nudge and Greg slowly lifted the lid. A plume of moisture emerged much like dry ice from a witch’s cauldron at a Halloween party. As the lid was lifted higher the fog dispersed and tiny heads became partly visible. They appeared to be growing off of something beneath the bottom layer of fog that the device was spewing forth. Andrea crouched down and waved her hand to ward off the mist and to her amazement…mushrooms
Hope you enjoyed that, I know my writing style needs work but I had to put something out there to contend with the good Doctor
-Eyebooger
#9
Guest_hippie3_*
Guest_hippie3_*
-
- Guest
Posted 30 September 2002 - 04:15 PM
alright,
a great entry,
that's more like it.
a great entry,
that's more like it.
#10
Guest_the_*
Guest_the_*
-
- Guest
Posted 30 September 2002 - 06:01 PM
Damn booger (revenge of the nerds anyone?) you make me proud, you done good man real good. I savored every detail, and sure loved the ending. Maybe this might be a good little compitition after all. Doc
Doc
#11
Guest_willwonk_*
Guest_willwonk_*
-
- Guest
Posted 30 September 2002 - 07:13 PM
Wow!
That was great. Thanks!
That was great. Thanks!
#12
steveoi812
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- Expired Member
- 9 posts
Mycophiliac
Posted 30 September 2002 - 09:01 PM
That was great eye. I love it man!!!
#13
Guest_jonny_*
Guest_jonny_*
-
- Guest
Posted 30 September 2002 - 10:28 PM
The Chicken Avenger
By Jonny Pajamas
Hunger ripped through his gut, like a pain filled cramp streaking up his side. The store that usually delivered food to his door was closed for the night. There was only one thing he could do; he would have to go to the super market. No easy task for a man who hasn’t left his apartment in over fifteen years. Not since that day that would remain burned into his memory for ever. It was Halloween 1987, he was dressed up as Lassie, but he was no ones bitch. That is, until he was jumped by four men. They chased him under a bush, behind a stranger’s house. Two boys kicked at him from one side, while two pulled at him from the other. When they got him out, they stomped him into the ground and took whatever he had in his pockets. What a sight he was, limping down the road dressed as lassie, dragging his ass all the way home, never to leave his apartment again.
Here he was all those years later, a grown man living like a hermit. His only pleasure, magical mushrooms which he grew off of rice cakes next to his bed. Now more than ever, he would need their magical powers to guide him on his journey out into the world he had hid from for all these years. He ate his largest dose ever, one gram for every year hidden away. He chopped them up, threw them into some orange juice, and gulped them down while holding his nose.
Only outside for a few minutes, he could already feel them working their spell. His got faint, stumbled, but then righted himself and tramped boldly off down the block which had changed so much in the last decade and a half. Blazing electric lights took on strange tunnel like shapes that twisted into vortexes of faces and flashes. He was about to blast off the planet into a world of poultry and intrigue.
He stood face to face with the supermarket. It had changed names and owners seven times while he hid away. The electric door swept open, exposing a vast sea of fruits and vegetables. Papaya, Beats, mangos, they all smiled at him for what seemed like an eternity before he realized that these were people. He wasn’t seeing things. These were people dressed like fruit. Could it be? What were the chances? Was it Halloween of all night’s that he chose to venture out?!? Oh dear god he thought to himself, I must escape. I have got to hold my shit together long enough to get some fucking chips or something and get home, he thought to himself. He turned the corner and was face to face with a giant walking, talking Shrimp man! The shrimp held up a chicken and yelled, “Chicken is on sale, you like the chicken, you want to eat the chicken.” OK, whatever he grabbed the chicken and took off, dashing out of the store without paying and into a dark alley.
He was at a level 5 for sure when the chicken said, “put me on Suzie. Put me on your big fat head Suzie Rubber Buckets!” Now he had seen a lot of strange things in his time, but a talking chicken that knew his secret pet name for himself was definitely way out there. He didn’t give it a second thought, it just felt so right. It felt like everything would be fine if he just crammed his head up the chicken’s slimy ass. He grabbed it by the legs, and in one fierce thrust, his head disappeared!
As if acting on instinct, he opened his eyes and saw the world in a whole new way. He realized he was seeing what was behind him! He was seeing through the chickens eyes! Suddenly the chicken spun around on his shoulders and took over control of his whole body. “CLUCK CLUCK AND AWAY!” he yelled before barreling down the dark alley into the light of the streetlamps. He was a man on a mission; he could not stop the urge building inside him like the need to pee real bad. He felt the uncontrollable need to protect poultry from all those who might do his feathered brothers harm. There was one place and one place only that he needed to go.
With a flap of his arms and a cluck he threw himself through the window of the man he now knew to be his arch enemy. He was standing in the living room of the one and only Frank Perdue. The door to the kitchen was cracked open, and he peeked through to see the object of his obsession, a lone breaded cutlet perched on the butcher block. It was then that he realized he was not alone. The chicken on his head spun around and seeing behind him as he had before, he cast his gaze upon the professor of poultry.
Something didn’t seem right, but before he could put his finger on what it was, the old man shot left and with a flying kick our hero found himself face down on the cold marble floor. As though he was lifted off the ground by invisible wires, the chicken avenger stood straight up. His arm thrust outward, grabbing the cuffs of the old mans velvet robe. Pulling him close, he smashed Perdue to the floor. Then his suspicions were confirmed. Frank Perdue began crawling up the wall like a spider, he lunged at Suzie Rubber Buckets while shrieking. Thinking fast the chicken avenger grabbed the breaded cutlet and held it outward, impaling the flying Perdue, who fell to the ground in a heap of wires and smoke.
“I see you have bested my robot” the real Frank Perdue said in a small fragile voice. “I will have to make some adjustments.” Our hero took a moment to gather his thoughts and then said, “Why do you have a robot of yourself?” Perdue picked up a broom and began sweeping the parts into a pile and explained, “I am an old man, I won’t live forever and can’t trust my idiot son to take over the real family business.” “What’s the real family business, I thought you terrorized chickens the world over for your own sadistic pleasure and monetary gains” Suzie said. “That’s just a cover for my real operation. I run the secret organization F.O.W.L. which stands for Fuck Over World Leaders, I think you already know about one of my other robots, Monica Lewinsky” Perdue explained.
With this new knowledge, the Chicken Avenger felt his true battle lay elsewhere, he didn’t care about people or there leaders, he cared about chicken and their wellbeing. “CLUCK CLUCK AND AWAY” he yelled with a flap of his arms as he threw himself out the window. He was off into the night, no longer a pathetic hermit who hid from the world. He had found meaning and inspiration. He was nobody’s bitch, and with his new lease on life he headed north in search of all those who would bring harm to chickens and their liberty. He felt whole, and fulfilled with the knowledge that as long as people ate chicken, there would be a place for him in the world.
THE END
By Jonny Pajamas
Hunger ripped through his gut, like a pain filled cramp streaking up his side. The store that usually delivered food to his door was closed for the night. There was only one thing he could do; he would have to go to the super market. No easy task for a man who hasn’t left his apartment in over fifteen years. Not since that day that would remain burned into his memory for ever. It was Halloween 1987, he was dressed up as Lassie, but he was no ones bitch. That is, until he was jumped by four men. They chased him under a bush, behind a stranger’s house. Two boys kicked at him from one side, while two pulled at him from the other. When they got him out, they stomped him into the ground and took whatever he had in his pockets. What a sight he was, limping down the road dressed as lassie, dragging his ass all the way home, never to leave his apartment again.
Here he was all those years later, a grown man living like a hermit. His only pleasure, magical mushrooms which he grew off of rice cakes next to his bed. Now more than ever, he would need their magical powers to guide him on his journey out into the world he had hid from for all these years. He ate his largest dose ever, one gram for every year hidden away. He chopped them up, threw them into some orange juice, and gulped them down while holding his nose.
Only outside for a few minutes, he could already feel them working their spell. His got faint, stumbled, but then righted himself and tramped boldly off down the block which had changed so much in the last decade and a half. Blazing electric lights took on strange tunnel like shapes that twisted into vortexes of faces and flashes. He was about to blast off the planet into a world of poultry and intrigue.
He stood face to face with the supermarket. It had changed names and owners seven times while he hid away. The electric door swept open, exposing a vast sea of fruits and vegetables. Papaya, Beats, mangos, they all smiled at him for what seemed like an eternity before he realized that these were people. He wasn’t seeing things. These were people dressed like fruit. Could it be? What were the chances? Was it Halloween of all night’s that he chose to venture out?!? Oh dear god he thought to himself, I must escape. I have got to hold my shit together long enough to get some fucking chips or something and get home, he thought to himself. He turned the corner and was face to face with a giant walking, talking Shrimp man! The shrimp held up a chicken and yelled, “Chicken is on sale, you like the chicken, you want to eat the chicken.” OK, whatever he grabbed the chicken and took off, dashing out of the store without paying and into a dark alley.
He was at a level 5 for sure when the chicken said, “put me on Suzie. Put me on your big fat head Suzie Rubber Buckets!” Now he had seen a lot of strange things in his time, but a talking chicken that knew his secret pet name for himself was definitely way out there. He didn’t give it a second thought, it just felt so right. It felt like everything would be fine if he just crammed his head up the chicken’s slimy ass. He grabbed it by the legs, and in one fierce thrust, his head disappeared!
As if acting on instinct, he opened his eyes and saw the world in a whole new way. He realized he was seeing what was behind him! He was seeing through the chickens eyes! Suddenly the chicken spun around on his shoulders and took over control of his whole body. “CLUCK CLUCK AND AWAY!” he yelled before barreling down the dark alley into the light of the streetlamps. He was a man on a mission; he could not stop the urge building inside him like the need to pee real bad. He felt the uncontrollable need to protect poultry from all those who might do his feathered brothers harm. There was one place and one place only that he needed to go.
With a flap of his arms and a cluck he threw himself through the window of the man he now knew to be his arch enemy. He was standing in the living room of the one and only Frank Perdue. The door to the kitchen was cracked open, and he peeked through to see the object of his obsession, a lone breaded cutlet perched on the butcher block. It was then that he realized he was not alone. The chicken on his head spun around and seeing behind him as he had before, he cast his gaze upon the professor of poultry.
Something didn’t seem right, but before he could put his finger on what it was, the old man shot left and with a flying kick our hero found himself face down on the cold marble floor. As though he was lifted off the ground by invisible wires, the chicken avenger stood straight up. His arm thrust outward, grabbing the cuffs of the old mans velvet robe. Pulling him close, he smashed Perdue to the floor. Then his suspicions were confirmed. Frank Perdue began crawling up the wall like a spider, he lunged at Suzie Rubber Buckets while shrieking. Thinking fast the chicken avenger grabbed the breaded cutlet and held it outward, impaling the flying Perdue, who fell to the ground in a heap of wires and smoke.
“I see you have bested my robot” the real Frank Perdue said in a small fragile voice. “I will have to make some adjustments.” Our hero took a moment to gather his thoughts and then said, “Why do you have a robot of yourself?” Perdue picked up a broom and began sweeping the parts into a pile and explained, “I am an old man, I won’t live forever and can’t trust my idiot son to take over the real family business.” “What’s the real family business, I thought you terrorized chickens the world over for your own sadistic pleasure and monetary gains” Suzie said. “That’s just a cover for my real operation. I run the secret organization F.O.W.L. which stands for Fuck Over World Leaders, I think you already know about one of my other robots, Monica Lewinsky” Perdue explained.
With this new knowledge, the Chicken Avenger felt his true battle lay elsewhere, he didn’t care about people or there leaders, he cared about chicken and their wellbeing. “CLUCK CLUCK AND AWAY” he yelled with a flap of his arms as he threw himself out the window. He was off into the night, no longer a pathetic hermit who hid from the world. He had found meaning and inspiration. He was nobody’s bitch, and with his new lease on life he headed north in search of all those who would bring harm to chickens and their liberty. He felt whole, and fulfilled with the knowledge that as long as people ate chicken, there would be a place for him in the world.
THE END
#14
steveoi812
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- Expired Member
- 9 posts
Mycophiliac
Posted 30 September 2002 - 11:56 PM
OmG Jonny You are the man! LMAO!
HOORAY FOR POULTRY!!!!!!!
and vodka!
HOORAY FOR POULTRY!!!!!!!
and vodka!
#16
eyebooger
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- Expired Member
- 18 posts
Mycophiliac
Posted 01 October 2002 - 09:17 AM
Yeah PJs!! Everyone in the office is wondering why I am laughing (i.e. "I hope he forwards that one to me")
You should start a comic book, er, I'm sorry, graphic novel about that one
You should start a comic book, er, I'm sorry, graphic novel about that one
#17
eyebooger
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- Expired Member
- 18 posts
Mycophiliac
Posted 01 October 2002 - 09:21 AM
Me thinks that Doctor needs to write a Psychonautical book.
Those are some of the most accurate descriptions I have ever seen I would love to see the unedited version.
Those are some of the most accurate descriptions I have ever seen
I would love to see the unedited version.
#19
Guest_pixie_*
Guest_pixie_*
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- Guest
Posted 01 October 2002 - 01:28 PM
hehehehhehe
that gets sprinkles!
********************
*pixie*
that gets sprinkles!
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*pixie*
#20
Guest_$240_*
Guest_$240_*
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- Guest
Posted 01 October 2002 - 02:44 PM
that happened to you before didn't it?
