|The Story||The Authors|
|Thusly braced with a healthy Kentucky glow the group began the arduous
trek back up the cliff face utilizing the back stairs (cleverly concealed
behind an enormous stack of old Tiger Beats in Davey Jones'
spare storage shed)stopping periodically for more refreshment. By
the time they had reached Old Boar's cave all were pretty looped.|
"Ah do decleh tha theesh is the finesh time Ah's haid since las' Duhby Tahm." Old Boar stated before passing out.
When consciousness reclaimed Roger he found himself already far
far away from the Old Boar's lair. He was also very very hungover.
It felt like the inside of his skull had been lined with sandpaper
and even the act of blinking(once he'd pried his eyelids free from
the crust) was enough to cause the quivering jelly like mass of his
brain tissue to chafe against it. His mouth tasted like he'd been
licking the pot in which they make stamp glue and his entire left
leg was asleep from where he'd lain strewn in the dust of the cavern
floor. With as little effort as he could exert he tried to remember
how he'd come to be here.
Hands trembling with a case of the dreaded hangovericum tremens,
stomach churning with the whirly nose of the bourbon, and even the
little interior voice of his conscience (which was then in the process
of writing "I Will Never Drink Again" seventeen thousand times on
the endless blackboard of Roger's guilt) had to admit that hair-o'-the-dawg
was the only way he brought the thermos to his lips but stopped,
suddenly remembering a song: |
Coincidentally, however, his off-key rendition of the old standard
was cut short at exactly the same point where Steve Martin's rendition
of it was cut short in The Jerk for it was at that moment
that Anita stormed into the cave, tripped over the snoring, pungent
heap comprised of the bodies of Boar, the Cat in the Hat (whose dreams,
even, transpired solely in AABB rhyme schemes), and Things One and
Two, and hurtled toward Roger. He caught her; he lost the bourbon
in the process, it's true, but he did catch her; "Roger?" she gasped,
astonished, catching her first whiff of the distillery he'd become;
he watched the last of the spilled bourbon dribbling away into a
crack in the cave floor; he sniffled; he tried to bring her face
into focus through his hangover, but failed blearily, closed his
eyes, and heaved a sigh.
|But still, he tried to listen. She spoke of lost love; a transgression in New York, that started as a simple kiss, then turned passionate, heated, from like, to lust, to love! Was he hearing correctly? The marriage was off? She was leaving him, never to return? What a cruel day this had turned out to be. Where did that bourbon go? Maybe there was a small sip left on the cave floor. He searched . . . in vain.|
"Anita, whatthefuck are you doing here?" groaned Roger. The
simple act of saying this cause his hangover to plunge mutliple cold
steel spikes through Roger's eyes with triplicate vigor. "I'm on
a mission, baby. It's dangerous down here, even I don't know
just how dangerous... Besides, I thought you said you hated me and
never wanted to see me again, which is what got me into this mess
in the first place... Who the hell are you working for, anyway? Which
"That's you, Rog. Everything always has to come back to you. You probably think I followed you, don't you? It never entered your pea-brain that this might just go way beyond you "
"You always did twist my words around, 'Nita..."
"Listen you little shit, while I was in New York I was attacked by vampires. By Liliputians. By Bactrian camels disguised as Dromedaries. By a universal preoccupation with masturbation so inspidid it threatened to take over the world, to corrupt the most chaste and charitable of conversations into a spider's-nest of latent desires and Freudian slips you don't know the half of it! Got so I couldn't sleep at night..."
"Christ on a zweiback, Anita you too?"
They eyed each other then, still suspiciously, but with, for the first time since their reunion, something of that old camaraderie in the face of constant opposition which had kept them together for three and half years... From the corner came the intermittant groans of Boar, the Cat in the Hat, and the two Things as the insistent presence of morning (even in the dank and drear of Boar's cave) began to poke holes in their bourbon-buoyed sleep. A fine lot we must look! thought Roger too himself. A right fine bunch indeed!
Roger suddenly noticed the cliff edge 5 feet away from him and the
lion 5 feet away in the other direction. "Now what do we do?" he
moaned. He immediately heard the cat in the hats answer:
"Remember what I said last night!|
Get rid of your reserve and fright!
That lion is the only way
To find a happy end today!
There is one other ending: if
You run and jump right off the cliff
You'll land in great big lava pools,
An ending only fit for fools!
Get past the lion and you'll see
A happy ending (and also me)."
"Is this the sort of company you keep when we're apart. Good
God! It smells like a distillery in here." snapped Anita attempting
to keep a smirk off her lips. A sorry lot they looked indeed.|
"Ah mus' reekwest, Ma'am, without the leas' 'mount of dis'pect Ah kin mustah in mah cuh-rent po-sishian that you pleaz loah yo voice a speck as theah is others heah who aint feelin' rightly dis-posed at the momen'" said Old Boar in a most pitiful croak.
here i go again|
clicking on other worlds
my dreams your dreams
i see everything
click and reclick
check and recheck
knocking out my skull
and sometimes i afford myself a sense of wonder
i pass through time
cyberspace curves like sculptured
do all things happen at once
am i dreaming
meet me at the detour
listen to the earth music
link minds and dance
every word i write
i try to make a note of love
to counter balance the various
evil forces in this world
reaching telephatic hights in cyberzone
i have a childs view
my daughter says
me with the words tumbling
masks wont save me
i work my mouth and roll my eyes
new wave methods
surfing the world
sad eyed drifter
this machine kills facists
look at strangers look at strangers
behold i stand at the door and knock
frozen by words
i pass through and i'm passed by
god flashed in my mind
downloading heaven on a pc near you
illuminating my pillow
means more than pension
for the last few years ive been an optical illusion
perhaps i could break this habit
theres a party in my head
the worlds invited
night cars go by
there is no end to this word game
to hell with so much violence
so much misunderstanding
whoring for the sake of mercenary visions
who pumped in the gas
orbs of pain
expand your eyes to distant moons
inject love in to their nerve ends
wait for them at the checkouts
rebuild the machine
looking in to the light
words faded between one wall and the other
stabbing the shadows
Well shuck my corn and polish my shoes
Said Things One and Two.
|Upon reaching the entrance of the cave, Anita produced a plane ticket from her coat pocket. "Here," she said, "this will get you to New York." Roger thanked her profusely, then asked, "But aren't you coming with me, Anita? Certainly I cannot leave you behind knowing you are alone, here, in the mercy of the wretched!" He screwed up his face in pain, ala William Shatner. "Go now," whispered Anita, and she turned and walked slowly away.|
|Anita suddenly whirled about and shouted "What do you MEAN, you cannot leave my BEHIND???!!! You sick and sodden BASTARD! I always knew there was a slimy, kinky, dirty sexual deviant behind those glassy eyes!"|
|"Oh great" said Roger, "Anita, I meant that I couldn't leave you in this cave! It has nothing to do with your behind!" But Anita was gone. Roger sighed and started to make his way to the New York City Dump where he could get rid of the evil remote control. Anita would have to wait untill later.|
|As he walked he could hear the sound of music playing off in the distance. He soon recognized the smooth licks of his favorite band "Henry Hyde and the House Managers" wailing away. He smiled and wondered where the music was coming from. Hoping he would happen upon a place to cool his heels and enjoy a refreshing cold beer, he picked up his pace. It was only a matter of time now for that damm remote control.|
|He thought to himself in agony, "will i ever score?"|
|They said if I get the remote control to the dump on time I would get 322 points. That would be almost enough to win. Yeehaw! I'm on my way. And off he went, visions of heroism in his head.|
|Or was that visions of heroin in his head? Roger was confused. Here he was back in New York yet he couldn't remember how he'd gotten here. He felt miserable and alone and he couldn't remember where his apartment was. He thought of Anita. He somehow knew that she would be able to help him but he didn't know where to find her. He figured it probably was visions of heroin in his head so he thought he'd better score some. Unfortunately he had no money. He didn't have anything of value to sell so he decided to steal some money from a convenience store. After all, he still had the gun tucked into his belt.|
"OH no you don't!" said Thing ONe and Thing Two.
And buying drugs
Is just as bad
As those awful thugs
Who turn this story
And ruin it
And break our necks!"
"All right all right" said Roger. He resumed walking towards the New York City Dump.