Tag: writing

JT’s Culinary Career Becomes A Pile Of Crap

On By Terrapin - The JourneyIn Keith Jaret, The Existential BakerLeave a comment

 

 

J.T. Hilltop… (From Zen and the Art of Culinary Maintenance)
The freaking manager and Maitre D’ of Cavarleiri’s Restaurant ran off with the Payroll and my hopeful culinary career was cut short. It wasn’t as if I wasn’t used to the fecal matter hitting the rotary oscillator but Cavalieris closing was a lot to deal with. I thought I had found my calling in the restaurant industry and the furthest thing from my mind was not being part of the gastronomic cosmic enlightenment enhanced with copious amounts of weed. No longer was I an apostle to a culinary madman, no more waitresses to flirt with, no more free beers, no more sneaking joints in the basement. I was now saturated with disappointment and disillusionment. I guess that’s how my Dad felt about me, but I’m not here to wallow in self pity, I’m here to tell my story. No money meant no weed and no weed meant I needed to seek another avenue of employment. Fast! I needed to shed the dry burnt out snakeskin of the restaurant industry and turn on to some other form of capitalism. I needed to get far away from any kitchen, any Chef or any sexy damn waitress. I need a sacrificial rack of lamb so to speak. I should do what James did when he was here, some fast money landscaping. So it came to pass that I had became the new landscaper for James olf boss Muncie at Muncies Field of Dreams. More accurately put, I had left the bottom rung of dishwashing to join the bottom rung of lawn mowing leaf raking topsoil carrying shit spreaders. I had chosen to become a hard working laborer and have my skin scorched everyday by burning threats the summer sun makes good on while enjoying the hearty aroma of freshly decayed organic manure. Enough about the perks though; let me tell you about the downside. Everyday ended the same, my arm and back muscles pound out a rebellious beat building to a painful crescendo. As I reach to cool my aches and pains with a cold beer it seem as though all my muscles tightened up into ball of overworked subdermal tissues and tendons screaming at every movement. My skin radiates a pinkish aura from hours spent unprotected by those relentless threats of the harsh sun. It left my neck and shoulders feeling like James gave them an Indian neck burn adding to my misery. As if that weren’t enough, the omnipresent stench of decaying crap had implanted its neverending stink carousel deep into my nasal cavity. Olfactory nirvana! Out on the field one of my less enviable jobs, if that’s even possible, was to take compost which was Muncies name for decayed animal shit, and spread it across a field. At first the smell of evaporating morning dew so earthy and rich comes rising up off the ground like a wisp of warm steam in a tease just waiting for its vile replacement. Breathe deep and enjoy the best of nature while it lasts because within seconds comes the dank aroma of compost. Its a blend of some of the most offensive smells I could ever have imagined. Horse shit, cut grass, worm infested leaves, and decaying matter are the less offensive stench. Once dumped on the ground the aromas of a horse stable had a meeting with a quarantined rest stop bathroom, and then joined forces with spoiled milk and dead mouse body to create a cacophony of disgust that slowly crept up my nasal passage and made an all out assault on all five of my senses. There it would stay to hang out for hours even after my day was long over. A rank reminder of my newly acquired hopelessness that was eased, but not eradicated by the beer. With a cannabis chaser of course.
Partying had come to a new intersection as well. Turn right and head up the morphine highway that was one step away from the dreaded H. Heroin, horse, dope. A dangerous path to be sure but as long as we kept just to the pills it seemed okay. To the left was an array of uppers and downers that had become much too routine for us. From the ritual of lighting up to the ritual of popping pills. Ken the salesman was in big demand and was spending way way too much time with the low life dealer Arthur. As for me I was required to wake up early 6 mornings a week and work my body into a pile of mush. But I had every night free to do whatever I chose. I had begun spending more and more money on drinking and drugs, supplying not only my head but Carries as well. And many evenings I took care of Sue as well because my best friend Ken was always out copping drugs to sell. I had begun doing diet pills every morning to keep me awake and give me the energy to bust my ass out in the shit fields and then popping downers to take off the edge of diet pills so I could sleep. As if that didn’t suck enough on days when it rained I would be sent home and not make any money for the day. I quickly went through my head money after a week of solid rain. The summer was coming to an end and I was making less money. Soon it would be too cold to do landscaping and I would be out of work again. Fuckin A man! I couldn’t remember how the fuck I got here but I knew I needed to get the fuck out real soon.
As if on cue that week of rain and crappy weather had set me in search of a new destiny. Again fate reared its ugly head and out of the blue came an offer to become an assistant groundskeeper at a local Nursing Home. How cool to be able to use my newly acquired skills on three locations and get paid even if it rains. That’s how it was that I became something different. Now I was a shit spreader with a title. The assistant groundskeeper with a special attribute. I was in charge of manure movement. Whatever, I was working and making money on a regular basis again. And the work wasn’t nearly as exhausting. Life was good again. Now I could concentrate on saving up my money. I began working in the yards of the three nursing home properties at Vierno’s Nursing Homes Inc.

To Be Continued

Transcendental Medication (Act III)

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From Act II
< She was very attractive with piercing hazel green eyes and long straight black hair tied up neatly in a swinging ponytail but allowing perfectly cut bangs to cover her forehead. Her eyes were as stunning as a Montana sky and just as vast. Butterflies had left my stomach and created a chrysalis caravan traveling through my digestive tract straight towards my reproductive organs. It was complicated even more profoundly by her sensual and suggestive tone echoing through my soul. Maybe she wasn’t even there to begin with, the line that separated reality from non-reality had become wafer thin.>

<Nothing is the absence of anything. Anything is something so nothing must be something if its anything>

 

 

III Begin At The Beginning
J.T. Hilltop

When I got home from The Holistic Center still feeling sluggish from the hallucination induced medicated acupuncture needles the first thing I did was pour myself a big glass of wine. A very big glass of wine. I needed to process what just happened today and decide if it was wise to go back. The more I thought about the nurse I was with the more I feared it was all in my head. Was I imagining some pornographic manifestation of a dominatrix nurse? A scene from “Romancing The Bone” or some such weird porno movie in the hopes of some spiritual sexcapade while under acupuncture meditation? Was it just a wet daydream? Maybe I’m hoping for a close encounter of the supernatural sexual kind. Everything about it seemed so very real and she seemed to know me intimately. Besides I need to know what the hell this everything is nothing bullshit was all about and how far I would be taking this so I’m definitely going. Then again what if I go back to the opposite universe and its Dr. Kha that ties me up and toys with my pleasure zones. Erotic adventures involving Dr. Kha’s thermometer probes and patient doctor confidentiality. Then again if it is the nurse she was so hot and so sexy my libido did triple somersaults with a full twist and was hoping to stick a landing. I would have made a contract with the devil himself for an evening of exploration with her but who and what can I trust? Doctor Kha said equal and opposite! I’m not even sure if she was a manifestation of my inner desires or if that sweet temptress really exists. She seemed like eve thing but maybe its nothing. So fucking confused!
I near guzzled the first large glass of wine and as I poured a second I glanced at the calendar. My eyes went directly to two days from now, Friday the 27th. Twenty seven is a good number as numbers go. Two is balance and union and seven is a very spiritual number in nearly every religion. Together they add up to nine which is the highest level of changes. Hmmm, union, balance, and change! I looked away closing my eyes as if to think about it but I knew my mind was made up. I mean a night of deep philosophic discovery contemplating the secrets of science followed by a fantasy involving wild abandoned sex, what’s not to like. Secrets of science? OMFG, have I become a nerd? Maybe so, but when I wake up Saturday morning I will be one happy and satisfied nerd. I glanced dreamily back at the calendar but all I saw were those beautiful hazel eyes filled with longing and promise. Friday it is!

Of course Friday couldn’t possibly have dragged on longer if it were fitted with friction bars. From the moment I woke up all the way through the day all I could think of was my dominatrix nurse. I made four errors on my lunch orders at the restaurant which is four more than usual, and my head just wasn’t in it at all. But the shift finally limped slowly to an end and I flew home to prepare for my journey. Nothing was on my mind. That is to say the everything sort of nothing. Oh yea, sex was on my mind as well. Maybe nothing but sex but I was very excited on so many levels. After the longest shower in history I did my best to look my best and it certainly wasn’t for nothing, at least I was hoping it wasn‘t.
When I arrived no one seemed as excited as I was, acting as if this were just another mundane visit. Maybe it was for them but I came here to be enlightened and turned on like never before. Dr. Kha led me back to my cot, my waiting room to experience nothing, and began inserting his medicated needles. “Hmmm, I feel much tension JT, I think I need put more puncture in foot today. Not want you running away, eh?” Kha chuckled as if it were some inside joke but I barely heard him at this point. He knew something was up, or rather that nothing was up, or was going to be up but lest‘s not go there. “Just really looking forward to what’s in store Dr. Kha, to pick up exactly where I left off the other day.” My smile must have been huge. “I see. Remember JT, every session new session. Like snowflake nothing ever exact.” I turned to look at him but he was already gone. I thought about a line from The Wizard of Oz and laughed, “My, people come and go so quickly here”, then I laid back to meditate while thinking of other Oz quotes. “Some people without brains do an awful lot of thinking, a heart is not judged by how much you love but by how much you are loved by others, you’re confusing courage with wisdom my friend.” I entered my zone, incense and music comforting me, a soothing sitar solo and I was transported again.
“Dr. Kha?” I pushed my way past the smoky curtain of dimensions. “Very clever JT, using Wizard of Oz. You think other dimension same as Oz for Dorothy? Maybe you same than Dorothy.” I could feel a strong burst of air pushing me back towards the smoke curtain and had to fight it off. “You gotta admit there are similarities Kha, I know I’m not in Kansas anymore.” The air kept me at bay. “True, no Kansas JT, but no Oz either. If you want learn about nothing you need to enter completely.” I fought off the air blast, “I can’t seem to get any further this air current is keeping me away.” Kha smiled, “No air current JT, is nothing. Nothing is what keep you from moving forward. If you want to understand everything you must first conquer nothing.” Conquer nothing? What the hell is he talking about? I concentrated hard and the wind stopped. I could see my nurse off in the distance, on the other side of a pond or something. She caught my eye and smiled. I looked back at her and then at Kha.
What you see is desire JT, but before you receive reward of what you desire lesson must be understood. You are in paradox JT, time and space much different than what you know. In this dimension Schrödinger’s cat exist and not exist” I shook my head full of doubt, “Are you saying we are in a box Kha?” He laughed loudly, “Box? No JT, here no box, but here always need think out of box. No use logic, use sensory instincts. Let feelings guide you.” I glanced back over the pond but no nurse. “So am I really here or am I still laying on the mattress?” Kha smiled, “I sorry JT, cannot answer. Anyway wrong question. What you should ask is when are you here and when are you on mattress. First to understand time you need let go of perception. You measure time in linear progressions, seconds, minutes, hours. But time constant and wobbly, no straight. You have already existed and already ceased to exist, time not wait on you. Your life is how you experience time, how you put it in order to understand. But time not linear JT, time flexible.” Kha pulled out a yard of string, “This your life JT. For you it have beginning and end. But time have no beginning, no end, time ownry exist. You see your life from one end of string to other. If I give you string in different pieces you think it useless, just like if I show you your life at 19, then at 5, then at 30. Not make sense because out of order yet it all happen. That ownry way you can see time, moving straight and forward every second. If you want see time as time truly is need more than acupuncture and meditation. For special people I give special transcendental medication. Combine acupuncture with special medication to help you understand. I believe you ready but it up to you JT.” He paused looking at me as if I needed time to consider, but he must have known if my life has already been that I was going to go for it. “Dr. Kha, I want to understand. It would be my honor and a privilege to undergo transcendental medication.” I gave him a sly smile, “When did I start?” I looked at him hoping he got my joke and saw he was smiling. “Very good JT, I see I have chosen you wisely. I leave now but I back to arrange session.” He pointed across the water to where my fantasy had been waiting, “Meantime, I recommend you take rowboat across pond.”
Right there in front of me was a small dinghy with oars. I jumped in and rowed like a maniacal teen about to lose his virginity towards whatever waited for me across the pond. When I got there the other side it was even more amazing than I thought possible. It was like an island paradise, brimming with plants, trees, and flowers of all colors. It smelled clean and new, lilac and fresh cut grass with a sense of serenity. I followed a path taking in the sheer beauty around me. Flowers with their genitals boldly hanging out on display for all to see, giving off intoxicating scents to tickle the minds of men. With every breath I felt desire building up inside me awaiting release. Then I saw her.
Not a nurse, not a dominatrix, not even an exotic island native woman, but that gorgeous hazel eyed enticing beautiful woman from my first visit dressed as if for a date “I’m so glad you chose to come back JT, I am Ambrosina. I’ve been waiting for you. Come here.”
To Be Continued

 

A Slice Of Life (from Zen And The Art f Culinary Maintenance)

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J.T. Hilltop
I was seriously depressed, spent 33 days as an unwilling guest at a South Carolina correction facility on my way to Arizona, and I never made it any further west then freaking Georgia. I played around in Atlanta, Columbia, and Myrtle Beach, and finally realized it was time to get back home to Long Island where I could at least waste my life away with some friends.

After two wasted years and a week of senseless sporadic hitchhiking in the south I finally made it back home to Centerlawn. It had only been two years yet as I quickly learned it’s a strange new world around here. Nearly everyone I hung out with has either gotten married, moved, or joined the “Establishment” and are doing their nine to fives. As for me I‘m officially unemployed and living at home with my Dad of all people. My next tattoo way just as well be a large “L” on my forehead so everyone can see what a loser I’ve become. What a cruel world. I had to do something, I was relented to the ultimate embarrassment of getting cash from my old man for doing menial tasks around the house, which had been seriously neglected as of late. A twenty three year old earning a teenage allowance. I needed to move out on my own again really bad but jobs were scarce, and I have zero money let alone security and rent for a month. Then my old friend Universe created its mysterious cosmic connection and the answer appeared in front of me. My cosmic companion placed fates ironic ad in the classified section of the local paper, “Looking for line cook for six day week. Room and board included. Inquire at Glen City Country Club.” “Fore!”

Thank you destiny! It opened up a whole new world to me. Long Island has tons of country clubs and most of them offer room and board as part of a compensation package. I could bounce from club to club until I get back up on my feet. Hey its not like Maggs Garden Apartment but it’s a room with a bed. I went to GCCC the very next day in my best clothes wearing my best attitude and charm. I got the job on the spot thanks to all my previous restaurant experience. Zen and the Art Of Culinary maintenance is back in the house.

The country club circuit is different from restaurants. For one thing it means split shifts. The members get breakfast and lunch Tuesday through Sunday, and dinner Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday which meant a break from 3-6 on those days. Mondays the kitchen was closed so we all had a day off. The hours were very mixed up but the work was steady and the pay was decent. A great staff, quality food, lots of waitresses, and we all got along and had fun. The room and board left a bit to be desired, the staff referred to it as “The Monkey House.” A small room with a cheap bed and dresser with showers down the end of the hall but what the Hell man, it was still better than having to see Dads face everyday.

Alas, I’ve learned that anytime anything good happens to me something has to come along and fuck it up. After losing at love three times in a row I opted to not get caught up in any serious relationship but that didn’t mean I would stop flirting. As I have also learned I have a pension for flirting with disaster, this time disaster being the General Managers daughter. Eight years younger than me but she was just too hot to let pass without making a pass. I put my flirtatious charm into overdrive and soon their was a very thick air of sexually charged tension. As the Rabbi said before the Bris, “It won’t be long now”

I was employed at Glen City Country Club for just under a year when the ill advised flirting with the bosses daughter teamed up with that old practical joker JT‘s fate and raised the level from disaster to catastrophic cacophony. An accident that would send me to the hospital would set off the next series of unfortunate events in my life.

The members of the clubs get a lot of perks and have a lot of all day golfing tournaments. On most big outings we had to set up two refreshment stations serving soda, beer, water, a hamburger grill and cold sandwiches. We loaded up a golf cart with folded tables, food and drink, and ice buckets to keep stuff cold. The tournament was over and one of the other cooks, Jose, was driving the cart we had just loaded with all the tables and leftovers from the refreshment stand at the 9th hole. He was driving the loaded cart along an elevated tee, a two foot incline, when he noticed something fell out of the cart and jumped out to get it. The cart kept moving towards the edge of the incline so I reached my foot over to hit the brake. Unfortunately the gas pedal bore a striking resemblance to the brake pedal so instead of coming to a stop the cart, full loaded with me in the passenger seat picked up speed. Or it’s quite possibly the beer I snuck or the two Valiums I washed down with the beer an hour ago, but either way I put the pedal to the medal and the golf Cart took off. Literally. Not enough speed to break any golf cart speed records but enough to send the cart full speed ahead to the edge of the elevated women’s tee into a triple one and a half twist gainer with a perfect swan dive straight into the ground. … I remember seeing a bunch of things rolling around with me but don’t remember any pain. In fact I was shocked when I saw the amount of blood coming from my arm.

Jose freaked of course and in his broken English I believe he said “Jesus and crackers JT, you losing focking blood”. Indeed I was, I grabbed one of the table cloths and wrapped my arm as Jose took off towards the main house screaming “help, help, help” That’s when I passed out. I awoke in and ambulance but I was seriously disoriented. The medic told me to relax and I told him I was in considerable pain.Next thing I knew a familiar feeling of warmth spread across my body. My old friend morphine was entering my bloodstream for a reunion. I closed my eyes, smiled, asked the medic to throw away the pill box in my pocket and drifted off into a different state.

I woke up about one or two days later, my arm was tied up top a pole with this huge sock that would be too big for Shaquile O’Neil, and sitting across from me smiling was the managers daughter. I knew instinctively that nothing good could come from this, so naturally, I asked her out which was extremely awkward considering when I got out of bed I realized the tied on hospital robe I was wearing exposed my big white hairy ass….. Was tha a good thing? Or a bad thing? Time and fate would tell….
TBC

 

I

Total Destruction, Only Solution (J. T. Hilltop)

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From Cosmo and The Garden Earth.
When last seen, Cosmo was pissed about the dinosaur behavior ruining his garden…….

One morning while sipping some of his favorite caffeinated breakfast beverage, Thors Thunderbolt, Cosmo noticed some strange things happening in his garden Earth. His jumbo dinosaur creatures appeared to be having unusually sloppy sex and puddles of love juice were forming lakes. Also they had become far less discreet as to who’s appendage fit into which aperture. The gigantic creatures were rolling around crushing everything in their way. Tree’s toppled, boulders rolled all the way to Colorado, and even volcanoes had become stopped up with goo. And the moaning, oh my Cosmo it was so loud and frightening. Of course with Planned Parenthood not yet created it was no time before Pangaea became over crowded with giant baby creatures. Not to mention the swamps of dino-sperm on the Easter egg hunt. With the creation of inter-species fuckfests some creative mutations began taking effect resulting in a array of new characteristics. They were larger, wider, more angry, and exceedingly clumsy. Cosmo sensed some other major adaptations taking hold, fortunately nor including longer arms for T Rex.
The sex also seemed to make the creatures extremely hungry and they were eating twice the normal amount of his marvelous Flora. Many seemed to favor this one particular bush, or rather one particular weed, which seemed to give them even more voracious appetites but also made them sort of smile. Cosmo won’t swear to it but he believed munching the weed made his creatures laugh. At the very least they smiled more than the ones that didn‘t partake. Narcosaurs mostly. He wondered if it was co-incidence or if it was because of his cannabis bush causing the effects so he took a few homegrown plants to try himself. He decided he would let them dry out and smoke some with a bottle of Pinot Nuetron after dinner. As he continued to survey Pangaea another curious practice was observed. The creatures seemed to be fighting each other over sex, which was not really a colossal deal but it appeared that the winners where actually eating the losers as some sort of carnivorous prize. Believing it to be from the cannabis he referred to the practice as canibisalism. He opted not to try smoking the enticing weed just yet afraid of what it may make him want to do. The eating of the other creatures as a diet instead of just vegetation also made the meat eaters even bigger and stronger. He would need to keep an eye on these developments.
As time passed more and more creatures were killing each other and eating the remains. And damn were they multiplying. They engaged in sex virtually everyday and babies were everywhere. It was like some kind of Dino-nursery. Every day there seemed to be more and more, and nearly all the vegetation had been eaten. Not only that but they began biting kicking and scratching each other for no apparent reason. Many fights seemed to be over who had more dangling under their tail or who was going to screw the better looking female dinosaurs. Many times these fights caused some to fall down never to get back up. Cosmo was not happy with these developments at all. His garden of creatures was turning into a giant fight club fiasco. His behemoth experiments were simply much to big and clumsy. He decided he needed to start over and this time start with much more compact set of creatures. First though he needed a plan to extinguish and cover up his dinosaur debacle.
His first plan was to go subterranean. He began to churn up the ground at different points of the land masses of Pangaea. The shifting of dirt created numerous effects. The mass of land split in various places and Pangaea began to break up into smaller lands. A few dinosaurs fell off the edges, but for the most part they rode the land mass that they happened to reside on and just sort of relocated. Two chunks of dirt headed out quickly, one due north and one due south. Each went as far as it could go until it turned into a giant massive iceball. Every dinosaur on these arctic edges froze along with it. The other land masses fared much better. Cosmo now needed names now for the different masses. On the east he named his land masses North Columbia and South Columbia. Way across the newly formed ocean there was a dark mass he called Afrika, and a huge piece he called Eurasia. A smaller mass slipped down under while a very green land went slightly north. He would name them later. As for the dinosaurs they had begun to change and were ironically defined by their land masses. The creatures in North Columbia grew more aggressive body parts, like large razor sharp teeth, pointed spiny tails, and large muscular arms. Military adaptations. Cosmo believed they actually thought themselves superior. Called them Mericans. They tried to force all the others live the way they did. Pretentiousauruses! The dinosaurs in Africa were very wild and it took on a predatory nature of survival of the mightiest. In Eurasisa half fancied themselves the more sophisticated and chic while the other half absolutely excelled in math. They had all begun to mutate body parts that were used as weapons or as protective amour. Spiny heads and necks, horns, shells, claws, Talons, scales and many other features that assisted warfare or survival. They continued cross breeding and a host of new genus’s were born. Now he had some walking on two legs, some on four, some eating only vegetation, some only other dinosaurs, and many eating both. The flying dinosaurs alone mutated into over 500 species. The fights became rampant and more frequent and quite frankly it was pissing Cosmo off a bit. The shifting of the land also had an effect on the once enormous Pangaean sea which was all the water surrounding Pangaea. The other lands had created borders which split the Pangaean sea into vast oceans. New weather patterns and water currents came into play, and many of the places he churned up dirt had formed piles, ranging from tiny molehills to humongous mountains that reached up towards the sky. At first Cosmo tried to make all the dirt piles as majestic as the giant ones but he quickly learned he couldn’t make a mountain out of a molehill.
As time went on things just got worse and worse. The changes in the garden plots were great, but the dinosaurs were out of control. In each land mass they were carrying on and destroying the vegetation, trampling everything in their paths, kicking the everlasting dinosaur shit out of each other. If that wasn’t bad enough the fornicating was maddening. No matter where you looked in the garden you could find many dinosaurs letting it all hang out ready for reproduction. Giant penispods galore. Humping and swamp hopping there was sex going on everywhere. Puddles of sperm gathered that drowned the lower vegetation and while they were knocking horns and creating future fossils it tore up the ground and caused many a fight to the death. Genus were being wiped out, it was a constant state of confusion. The trees they had eaten clear down to the roots. They simply had no respect at all for Cosmo, his garden, or each other and that was the final sipping stick! It was time for a raptor rapture!
The angry Cosmo had had it. He reached up into space and grabbed the biggest asteroid he could hold and hurled it towards earth with all his might. Had it not been an act of destruction one might have thought it a beautiful magnificent sight. Upon impact a huge explosion of colors, bright reds and yellows danced tangos across the planet. A blinding flash of white so brilliant it could be seen as far away as the Tolkien Galaxy. Flames that reached so high they tickled the moon and made it giggle and squirm. Sheer magnifigance. Why it was a fireworks display fit for the gods. But mere minutes after the glowing kaleidoscope of destruction lit up the skies as if to remind everyone that its beauty was marred by violence it was quickly replaced with an ear pounding roar. Bursts of concussion inducing reverberation accompanied the evening festivities with a mushroom plume of billowing smoke dressed in charcoal black from head to toe. A snap. A crackle. A pop. Within seconds garden earth became Earth Krispies. The explosion kicked up an awful cloud of dust with it that pulled the rug of sparkle pomp and circumstance right from under its cosmic ass. For the longest time Cosmo could see nothing but an enormous floating burntout dust bunny. Virtually everything was obscured and he had no clue as to the fate of his living garden below. One thing for sure, if any of the suns rays got through at all it was undetectable. How could anything live without food, without light, without sunshine? Cosmo was absolutely certain he had lost everything. He underestimated the ultra tiny earth dwelling insect known as the cockroach. Will anything kill those bastards?
As time went by the dust began to settle it was becoming apparent not much if anything would survive. Even with only a portion of the dust gone he could see there was not much sign of life. The vegetation tried valiantly to reach back up towards the sun but with limited success. The garden seemed still and void. Even Cosmo couldn’t detect the tiny crawling cockroach foraging at the base of the stringy vines of vegetation. But trust me when I tell you, those cucaracha’s marched on. The once magnificent dinosaurs however were not able to crawl between any cracks let alone march anywhere. A massive open graveyard was all the gardening god could see. Humongous piles of giant carcasses littered the ground and whatever ground that could be seen was scorched to a grayish black. Nary a leaf or a pine cone to be found. Not even a blade of grass on this once animated garden of green and blue. Stacks of bodies and body parts could be seen everywhere with billows of smoke reaching out to the Milky Way cluster. There was a stench quite unfamiliar to Cosmo, charred flesh smelled nothing at all similar to a god BBQ. To call the aroma unpleasant would be an understatement. The forces of fetid decay banded together with burning flesh and gunpowder. The acrid odors began an all out assault that would serve as a rank reminder of the magnitude of failure here. Battalions of rotted mounds of foul fecal sewage mixed with dino debris formed an aerial assault. The army of stench marched up Cosmo’s nose and set up a camp of odoriferous angry troops behind his eyes. Some salted droplets of sorrow snuck down Cosmo’s cheek which he blamed on the carousel of stink spinning in his sinuses. Make no mistake though that was no dew drop, that was a god sized teardrop…..TBC

No Tea Or Sympathy On My Visit To The Not So Pearly Gates

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J.T. Hilltop

All these years wondering who God was and if she…..or he exists and I have to die to meet my creator only to find out  it’s a nerdish looking scientist who calls himself Al. What are the chances? Feeling a bit brazen now that I’m dead I asked Al The Creator if this was some weird drug and alcohol fueled dream hallucination and the fucker just smiled at me with an all too familiar condescending sneer.

Al scoffed at me. “A dream you ask? Did you ever stop to even wonder what dreams are JT? For that matter why you dream?” The smug smile on his face took on a devious leer. I began to wonder if he was God and Satan wrapped in one neat little package of divinity. “Your brain takes in all the crazy shit you’ve processed throughout the day, mixes it up with whatever it wants from your past, puts them in a theatrical blender and pours the results into your head making you wonder if its real or some weird movie. Your computerized brain messes with you by presenting the entire series of events in an abstract manner making it as disjointed and confusing as possible. Tell me son, how do your dreams start?”   I pondered this and for the life of me I couldn’t remember how my dreams begin or end, it‘s all just like a mottled up middle without a sane plot. Before I could answer Al continued, “All day long your brain is very busy collecting information from your nose, ears, eyes, and skin. It has to filter out what’s unimportant, put what is important into memory, and still be ready to make split second decisions on even mundane things you do daily. Simple things like washing your hands. While your washing thousands of events are happening right where you are standing. Things you don’t see, hear, or smell, or rather don’t notice because your brain views them as insignificant so it doesn’t process them. Maybe it’s a tiny hair strand floating by in and endless feather drop. Knowing its there is of no use to you at the moment so your brain collects the images and sounds, places it in mental file cabinets for later use, and concentrates on more important things like reminding you to rug your hands together with soapy water. Sounds, smells, and sights are in full force around you all the time, so your brain puts you on auto pilot, while it continues to search the world around you. It’s a very busy job and it juggles millions of bits of information. The brain loves to work and thrives in busy situations making decisions every split second. Then at night you turn out the lights and go to sleep leaving your brain with little to do, not much in the way of senses to process. Now its  almost like your brain is bored while you sleep so it makes up frightening images some so scary you may wake up in a sweat. If your brain has been overworked it will make it seem so real you wake up wondering did that happen or was I dreaming? Other times it will cause you total confusion by showing you something so ridiculous you’ll wanna pinch yourself when you wake. Most of the time you just wake up so confused all you can think when you wake is what the fuck that was all about. You forget the events before you ever reach the bathroom to pee.
You remember your sexual dreams as an adolescent? Okay, I won’t go there and embarrass you, just know your brain really enjoyed fucking with you back then and  got your body to respond in any number of ways. As if puberty wasn’t hard enough! Pun intended by the way JT.”  Again a devious smile. “You live in an age of over-information son. I’m here to help you sort through all the bullshit so you can move on and understand your role in the universe. In my universe.”
Maybe I was over-reacting, or tired and out of sorts but for some reason the last part stung a little bit. His universe? I still wasn‘t completely convinced I wasn‘t dreaming this scenarion up as a result of the cholesterol alcohol and drugs overload. “Your universe? So you’re back to that huh? So what, you’re….you‘re who then? God, Yahweh, Allah, Jehovah, Lord of Lords, The light? The omnipresent creator of everything? You, a nerdy little scientist with messy hair, a lab coat, and clipboard! You just look so insignificant, no offense, but I really expected the creator to be a bit more, oh I don’t know, regal and grandeur, maybe some big smoke monster or something.” The diminutive scientist/mathematician smiled. “I’m sorry to disappoint you JT, but as I told you before I am merely a manifestation, an image you have created in your own mind  to fit the role of one with enough knowledge and ability to create life. Universes are created by scientists, not gods. So I appear to you as you envision a scientist. This clipboard is a prop. Have you seen me use it for anything? What do I need a clipboard for. It’s even you talking except when the info is over your head. So blame yourself if you’re disappointed, I’m not here to make you feel good about yourself, I’m here to tell you what you don’t know about yourself. If you don’t want to hear let me know and we’ll call it quits and you can just move on.”
Again the term “move on” hung out in suspended animation with a sinister undertone. But this time I was being scolded at the same time. I tossed the term around my bruised mind, “just move on.” Mover on to what, to where? Maybe it was best to allow calmer heads to prevail and hear him out.
TBC

Who Is God And Is he an Existentialist?

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(An excerpt from “Cosmo And The Garden Earth”)

Now I’ve done more than my fair share of hallucinogens in my day but believe me this was no chemically induced manifestation. The most remarkable thing happened. Cosmo’s arms came right through my computer screen and grabbed by the shoulders. As if I had been transformed into a wavelenghth of pixilation energy I entered into the story coming face to face with the god I had been writing about. I was confused beyond galactic proportions, “Oh My Cosmo, did I die?” My mind was racing. No harp music, that has to be a good sign, but there he was as big as life. His voice was less godly than I anticipated, no thundering roars, just a friendly statement as if he were a college professor, “I understand you have some profound questions JT. Come with me and I will try to give you the answers. We’ll be traveling in a way you are unfamiliar with so just remain quiet and observe” I was stunned but in some sort of trance. Cosmo took my hand and even though I had a keyboard full of questions I walked alongside this sprirty thing in silence. We walked through some type of city street then through a building. I then realized it was the New York Stock Exchange but it was cold and unlit and we could hear people trying hard to yell over each other. It was as though I were seeing it in different dimensions piled on top of each other. Epiphany! We were. Through another dimension and we found ourselves walking through a bank, also cool and unlit this time filled with voices in a language I could not understand. Through another dimension we found ourselves in some sort of foreign government building, a palace or some ultra rich home, and finally through a concrete graveyard. Just as quickly as it had gotten cold and dark a light appeared and a wave of warmth spread over my body. We were walking along a beach I had gone to many times in my younger days, and then through the familiar streets of my youth. The city that watched me grow from a boy into a man. The schoolyard field I learned to place baseball in, the playground complete with see saw where I learned the mechanics and necessity of teamwork, school, cars, bars, all of my youth. He led to some sort of park that was filled with elements of my past life. Everywhere I could see and hear children playing and laughing. I couldn’t help but smile as Cosmo walked me through the most carefree times of my life. At long last we came to a path in a wooded area that led to a clearing. “There JT, over there. We can sit there and talk.” I almost ran up to the clearing and found a spot to sit. I had so many questions and I wasn’t sure where to start but as it happened I didn’t need to. Cosmo looked me in the eyes and this is going to sound strange but I got the feeling I was looking at everyone I had ever known. Cosmo spoke clear and soft. “JT, you have many questions and I will try to answer them as simply as possible. First you want to know the purpose of life?” He flashed me the largest and warmest smile I had ever seen.

Its not God that works in mysterious ways JT, its love. Love has the power to create mystery. You remember one of your favorite all time movies? How about this line, “You’ve always had the power to get home. You just needed to learn how to use it?” Its not a co-incidence that it’s a wonderful life came out the same time. “To my brother George, the richest man in town” Through entertainment Love tried in1933 to show you all what’s important and what is real, but it never caught on as anything more than simply entertainment. People still went about learning to hate, to be greedy and jealous. The opposite emotions of love overpowered the minds of humanity.” He sat and stared reflectively out at the children playing so I took the opportunity to ask a question, “Am I dead?”. Again the warm smile, “JT my son, death is not something to fear, its merely a stage. What’s important here is that you understand life, not death. Things are what they are because love lost out to power. The planet earth really is a garden, and it needs cosmic tending. All I’ve done is shown you your history. Just watch a while.”

It was beautiful. Children on see-saws and swings, running and playing tag, climbing on the monkey bars. In the field kids playing kick ball, and softball. I saw young couples walking hand in hand smiling and looking into each others souls, and butterflies and blue jays, intricately woven spider webs, running streams with waterfalls, and wonderful colored animals of all types seemingly dancing. I wondered at first what these sights were all about then as if in a dream I saw the sun rise slowly over the ocean, float across the sky and gently kiss the tops of the trees as it set. Darkness with the largest fullest and most beautiful moon I had ever seen. And it was all alive and covered in sounds of life and love. Then I realized its what Cosmo wanted me to see. The parts of life that make us smile and laugh and give us a feeling that can’t even be found in any words no matter how descriptive. That indescribable feeling of bliss, of such wonderful happiness. The beautiful things around us that need only be seen and appreciated without questioning.
I let this all sink in for a while. It was beginning to Make more sense to me. Our culture created gods and religions for someone to blame for our bad habits and mistakes. I came back from the walk refreshed and I think I was beginning to understand things better. It really is a breathtaking garden filled with so many wonders and so much brilliance. I began to understand what privilege it was to walk in it, and be a part of it. Part of millions of years of life. But the inquisitive nature in me, the hunter instinct if you will, still hade profound questions left. When I got back Cosmo was waiting and ready. I guess he was predicting the future as well. “All this is beautiful Cosmo, and I realize how fortunate I am to be part of it no matter for how long, but I still can’t stop wondering how it all began. Who created the universe?” Cosmo was rubbing his chin and in that instant I thought about how that was exactly what I did when asked a difficult question. “No entity created the universe JT. It has always been and always be, but it will take on different forms. You humans have done incredibly well in your studies. You have discovered the basis of everything. The atom. A center or nuclei with various electrons an neutrons spinning around it. What does that Resemble to you JT? What else has a center with many things spinning around it?” Sometimes an epiphany is so simple you feel like slapping yourself yet the feeling is such an awesome rush. “Your talking about the solar system aren’t you?” I didn’t ask the simple question because I wasn’t sure, I just wanted to hear more. “Yes JT, that’s correct. Everything in the universe has the same basic make up, a center with various types of energy spinning furiously around it. There really is no universe JT, there is a multiverse. A number of universes all spinning around a central nucleus. The universes collide on occasion and are reformed. Tell me JT, have you ever looked into a three sided mirror, you know the type when you try on clothes and want to view your clothing from different angles? You can see yourself in the mirror looking at yourself look in another mirror. And if you look in that mirror what you see is you looking in another mirror. Can you imagine that going on forever? Do you think that at some point you will see yourself not looking in another mirror?” I remembered how fascinated I was as a kid when I looked in the never-ending mirror, but how the hell did he know? As I tried to process the information the best I could muster was a weak “I can dig it.”
“Well now JT we are at the one real question that keeps gnawing at you. Now is the time to answer if there is a god. Is that what you want to know JT?” The nail could not possibly have been hit more squarely on the head. “Well yea, I guess that’s the real question. I mean the universe thing kinda fucked with my head a bit but on some abstract level it makes sense. But what of this God thing, I mean you are obviously here so are you God or…..” Cosmo put up his hand to stop me from talking and allowed a small chuckle to escape. “I guess that’s what we’re here to find out, yes JT?” I shook my head wondering if I were to wake up in an asylum but Cosmo continued. “Yes JT, god does exist but it’s not the God you or anyone else has been taught. Its funny to me how you humans look up to the sky in search of God. You look up as though heaven is up in the sky somewhere. Look out JT, look in front of you, to the left and right side of you. Look behind you..” When I looked out into the woods it was absolutely filled with life. All types of animals and beautiful plants and flowers, and tree’s, all just living happily and freely. “You see that JT? That’s God. All of it. Collectively. God isn’t a creator, not some entity you need to kneel before and worship. What kind of a god would that be? Sounds more like an owner. God is not an owner, god is a state of mind that humans have forgotten and one which has been horrendously forsaken. God is love. That’s why people say God is everywhere JT. You are surrounded by love so always in the presence of God. But you need to love to be love and that means everything. God doesn’t create misery, or suffering, humans did when they began to misuse love. You need to love the slimiest rat or the most beautiful Cat equally, because they are God as well. The cockroaches and spiders you get all jittery over, they are God. You need to lose all the misconceptions you have been taught. You all do if you really want to go on as a species. There is no one or no entity that can save the human race, the human race has to do that.”
I sat there for what seemed like hours and the truth is I have absolutely no idea how long it was. It had been a mindblowing meeting and it took me a long time to sort through everything. So I can dig it, the purpose of life is life, to embrace it and enjoy it and just be a part of it. I know now that a search for the one true god is pointless because it will change nothing, nothing at all. I still don’t understand why there is so much suffering and pain in the world and while I understand the how of war I am at a loss still as to the why. Yet something inside had touched me in a very deep way and I was beginning to think I understood. It was up to me to get the word out, to get other people to understand how great life I and most important that we are on the brink of losing in a war we don’t even know we are in. I had to come up with a way to educate, to warn others but what can I do? I am not a guru, no one really listens to me. Then a thought struck me. All through my life I had learned many good lessons from reading. From the very beginning my Mom and Dad told me stories to help me understand the right thing to do. It’s through stories that we learn the most in life, so I sat down at my keyboard and wondered how I could make this an interesting story that people would enjoy and thereby get Cosmos message out. I was blank for over an hour, then suddenly a thought jumped up and down and grabbed my head in both hands. It was a familiar phrase. “Begin at the beginning.” Simple and not surprisingly when I began at the beginning I was at the middle and at the end, It was beginning to sink in. The cycle of life had always been and always will be, but the characters and locations may change. I wrote this story in the hopes that it may get some people to change the way they think. Then I did what any self respecting human would do. I smiled from ear to ear and continued to enjoy my life.
PEACE

I Wanna New Drug ( From The Insidious Adventures Of JT Hilltop)

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new drug

 

J. T. Hilltop

The moment I saw the shit eating grin on Kens face I knew he had scored something special. My heart was racing even before any kind of chemical assistance would kick in. Will it be some opium streaked black hash? Some wheelchair gold weed or Thai stick?  Whatever it was I knew we were about to embark on an adventurous ride somewhere. “Yo, JT. Check this out Bro, my cousin Jerry just came from Brooklyn with this.”  Ken passed me a small tinfoil package, “Here man lets  do a line.”   I opened up the packet and noticed a familiar white powder, but it seemed almost wet. “What is it man, some super coke or something?”  Ken chuckled, “no no no man, this is fucking powdered THC, Jerry just calls it T. Its like all the good shit from weed all packed into this powder without smoking. You and me are gonna see just how powerful it is.”

Ken  used me as a barometer for his drugs because like him I have like a natural ability to metabolize drugs and  can normally handle at least a half a hit more than most kids. If someone did one hit of Blue Cheer we did two.  So if it freaks us out he dials it back or warns his customers how far to push it and if it doesn‘t get us jazzed he knows its weak shit. Carrie and I had been doing a lot of coke lately and frankly I wasn’t really digging it that much. I’d rather smoke a joint, eat a couple of ludes, and then just have sex or something. But everyone was chasing the coke high. This new T powder could be a welcome change, a new drug. I took the square piece of mirror from the table, poured out the powder, then went through the awesome ritual of chopping and forming two thick and two thin equal sized lines of the powder. Ken passed me a rolled up twenty dollar bill so I placed one end up my nose and bent over sniffing the first line like professional Dyson. Tilting my head back I dipped my fingers in my beer and dripped some into my nostrils forcing the residue further into my sinus cavity. It burnt a little bit and had a kind of chemical taste but it walloped me instantly at the back of my head turning it numb. I repeated the same processes on the second line passing the mirror to Ken. My nose hairs probably disappeared running away in flames but my brain would not be registering any pain. I felt it going right to the back of my cranium tickling my cerebellum.

It took about fifteen seconds for the inside of my head to explode. A mushroom cloud erupted in my brain  forcing my skull to grow like five inches to compensate for the euphoric growth. I imagined my forehead like a Cro-Magnon. Dead brain cells were being piled up in brain cell body bags by the endoplasmic reticulum synapse police as what was left of my sanity began triaging the remaining frazzled yet live cells. I got up to walk but my feet and legs had filled up with helium so I couldn‘t feel the ground. As I closed my eyes and tilted my head back I visualized walking, or rather floating in someone’s garden. The garden was beautiful full of running streams, fruit tees, and flowers. It seemed as though it should be familiar but I couldn’t ever remember being there before. None the less I wanted to walk through it until I noticed the paths were lined with what I  thought was cooked spaghetti. The pasta began slithering and hissing as it morphed into snakes. It felt like two people were watching me and I began chuckled thinking I must be in the Garden of Eden with Adam and Eve wondering who the fuck I was. I did however realize I was tripping and needed to master this new high so I focused as best I could.  I opted to try and negotiate a walk through the garden.  The helium continued to fill up in my legs. It was as though  I needed to be tethered like the balloons at a Macys parade or I may float away. I took a few steps forward without feeling my feet on the ground but going forward on complete faith that I still knew how to walk and the floor would happily meet my unfeeling feet. Everything looked distorted to the point of surrealism. Dimensions came and went or piggy backed on each other leading to total confusion. On top of that apparently some of the helium was escaping because as Ken spoke to me he sounded like Theodore or Alvin from the old Chipmunks cartoon. The world had morphed into slow motion, or maybe stop motion it was hard to discern.

A squeaky mouse voice whispered in my ear, “JT, I’m too fucking high man. I can’t fucking move.” Then the squeaker began laughing. I looked over at Ken and his mouth was laughing but his eyes were like fixed, open but staring into nothingness and registering no emotion. He was seated in a multi colored cushioned rocking chair that was hovering a foot above the floor. Except for his laughing mouth he looked like he was frozen solid. Somehow I made my way over to him, “Are you okay Bro?” I think I was swaying, like a weeble that wobbles but doesn’t fall down but I can’t say for sure. Ken stopped laughing, “I think I’m a wax statue.” For  two seconds that seemed like sixty we both thought about what he said and broke out laughing. I laughed so hard I had to sit down, if only I could figure out where a chair was. It took us somewhere in the vicinity of forty five minutes to regain our composure. Or maybe it was two days, that was how high we were.

Once I was able to maintain a lucid thought I realized all the hallucinating I had been doing. Ken was back in that green recliner, I had legs, and I had visited the Garden Of Eden. Best hallucinations ever, we found a new drug and it was beyond groovy. But this shit was definitely way strong so it had to be cut with some mannitol. I knew instantly our entire town would put the cocaine on hold and get into this new THC.
TBC

Epilogue.        T became the new drug of choice, it was like being more stoned than you had ever been before without falling asleep.  After about six to eight  months reports of kids being hospitalized after using powdered THC and becoming paralyzed, like frozen. It seemed someone had adulterated the chemical by adding something far more dangerous and it quickly fell out of fashion. Much to my dismay cocaine once again became to drug of choice at bars. I didn’t dig coke too much because you only got one good rush from coke on the first hit then spent the rest of the night trying to relive it until your mouth hurt from grinding your teeth. Not to mention the paranoia it caused. None of that however deterred me from putting as much of it up my nose as I could afford. We invented snake lines which were the longest white powdered lines possible but it still had people going crazy looking for more. I continued snorting even though I didn’t particularly care for coke because it was still a drug and the rush of doing illegal shit was addictive. The shrinks later on would tell me I suffered from an addictive personality disorder but I still think like most kids I was just always looking for kicks, I just had a bigger sweet tooth for the forbidden than most.  Either way my mantra back then was most definitely  “I wanna a new drug.”

JT Stays At The Motorcycle Club Safe House

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safe house

 

J. T. Hilltop

Disclaimer…in order to preserve the integrity and anonymity of the motorcycle group in this story as well as my own personal protection for disclosing a few of their not so well guarded secrets I will refer to the group as the “Infidels” Infidels were original a name given to anti-Christian religions, kinda like Pagans. So this MC Club are the main rival club of the Angels from Hell and their name has Pagan roots. But I never said that……..

It Won’t Be Long Until You Belong

For reasons I won’t discuss I found myself a temporary resident of a safe house with the Infidels Motorcycle Club. Suffice to say my best friend Archie, who I knew since kindergarten was a member in good standing and it was at his request I was kept away from the world under the protection of his brother Infidels. It was keeping me safe more from myself than anything insidious but there I was, surrounded by a lively bunch of guys whose most obvious flaw was forgetting or simply not caring enough to bathe. (If you know a biker please don’t tell them I said that) To be honest once in the safe house where they let down their guarded style of confrontational outlaw anger and angst they were a remarkably gracious and fun group. They joked both with and about me and I kidded back in an extremely cautious manner. That said it was still my best interest to be aware and respectful of the clubs hierarchy.

The Bayshore Infidels are highly organized motorcycle club chapter with strict chapter rules and a deeply revered caste of social status within the group. My friend was a member in good standing but he had no special attributes, which basically meant he hadn’t earned upper club status through doing time in prison, beating the hell out of a rival club member, or earning the ultimate title of ITCB. That essentially intimated that the person removed an obstacle for a higher up. I Took Care Of Business (ITCB) loosely translates to I’m a homicidal maniac and if you fuck with any officer of our brotherhood you’ll be dead before you can apologize. Archie was a kind and mellow friend back in the day so it came as no surprise he hadn’t reached any of those statuses. Yet. He had however developed a certain air of violent behavior I hadn’t seen since we fought over Tonka toys and Lincoln Logs in kindergarten, and was quite intent of getting me to join his newfound club.

Archie explained to me how I could start off in the socially admired position of “hanger around”. The hanger around has literally no status with the club but is permitted to go on beer runs and clean up after parties to include numerous piles of stale beer stinking puke stains, piss puddles, and an array of DNA treasure troves so gross you don’t even want to guess at what they are or how they got where they did, let alone whom they belong to. As appealing as that sounded doubt had already begun churning up in my stomach. If you last past that for a year or two you may find yourself a member willing to sponsor you. Then you become a prospect and are allowed to begin proving yourself loyal. You do this in a number of ways which may involve getting into a fight with someone who disses the Infidel colors or someone’s bike, or by taking care of the wounded, and by becoming an official gopher and basically holding your head high while any and all members emasculate dissect embarrass harass and generally shit on you for everyone else’s amusement. Not able to wear colors as a prospect but at least no longer on DNA scrub detail unless there were no hanger arounds around. After that the levels and their status in the brotherhood vary but it sounded like a bloody violent and downright disgusting form of fraternal challenges that go on for a very long time before you earn the right to wear the patch, and add 1%er to you jacket. To be honest it sounded more like an unending audition for The Ultimate Jackass Movie featuring The Marquis De Sade.

But anyway I was here as a guest not a hopeful wannabe outlaw on two wheels despite the promise of oodles of drinking, smoking, and ass kicking. Besides, by the look of these behemoth brutes in this safe house it would more than likely my ass that would be on the kicked end and I‘m just not a fan of having my face nor my ass bloodied up. So it was with a modicum or more of trepidation that I joined in the fun we, or at least they were having. For lunch we had a six pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon premium beer. Aside from my sarcasm PBR’s were a staple not only with the biker crowd but also with the middle class kids that never got allowances so it wasn’t actually out of my social stratus anyway. The shit was cheap and good, two qualities us young know it all dudes liked in both beer and women. So it wasn’t an unfamiliar lunch but considering I was being “kept safe” it did lack a certain nourishment. That aside, it did take the edge off which was helping me get through my 3 days of safe house rehab. So the lunch was good but lacked any substance, but dinner hadn’t yet been considered. For dinner we had two six packs of PBR’s which while not much in the way of real vitamin intake it was jam packed with psychological vitamins. By seven o’clock my head was so numb nothing else mattered, which was after all why I was there in the first place.

I’m guessing it was more of Archie’s girlfriend, or “Chick” or “Mama” Lauren who decided we all needed something solid in our stomachs but at any rate at around 1AM or so Archie, Lauren, another couple who I won’t make a fake name for because I have no clue what their real names are anyway all packed in to a cage(a non motorcycle four wheeled vehicle) and headed out to a dinner. To the best of my compromised recollection I ordered Belgian Waffles. I say this because both Archie and :Lauren laughed their respective asses of the next day telling me I kept calling them belching waffles because my PBR diet had caused an enormous excess of gas.

The truth is I have very little memory of the diner or the waffles let alone any clue as to what I may or may not have said. Suffice to say it was an interesting first safe day with the Infidel Motorcycle Club who were all compassionate endearing, and even charming when away from the perils of everyday life among the citizens. I am forever in debt to to them for holding my hand through a very tough period of not just the three days I had hoped for but extending my safe visit for a five day experience I needed. That group of outstanding if intimidating riders helped me move on with my life free from at least one evil that no longer had it’s deep claws stuck into my circulatory system. Archie and I lost contact again but I have heard that he has since passed, and I haven’t a clue what became of Lauren or any one of the beautiful souls who saw me through my predicament but still I will love them forever.

Peace

 

 

 

 

 

 

I Was A Fly On Nixon’s Wall

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fly

The short lifespan of a fly doesn’t have much in the way of excitement so when I woke up in the oval office of The White House I knew I had a good story to tell my grand-flies. You know it must have been quite a ride landing me here in DC with Richard Milhous and his cronies but more on that later. First a little background about the life and times of us pesky flies.
All in all it’s a boring life. Oh sure if we find some dead body its like an all you can eat buffet for the entire family but that’s just a night out to binge and purge. There’s not a whole lot of exciting occurrences for a fly. Avoid that sticky gooey tape thing, play dive bomb at people heads while they try and swat us, and wait around to find some tasty shit. Literally. We live short simple lives and have very few needs. Air traffic patterns to confuse predators, anti-web maneuvers which, by the way seldom work, friggen spider bitches, and some good rotting flesh or defecation. Basically we eat puke, and eat again. Then we rub our hands together to make humans think we’re hatching diabolical plans and then just head out to look for some excitement.
Oh yea, about that fly paper. That’s my pet peeve man its a real bitch because we think we’re gonna get laid and then all of a sudden glop! Bastard humans make those sticky tapes smell just like lady fly fluids and I’ve witnessed many a friend die thinking he was gonna do some mid-air muff diving only to find himself trapped dangling in a gluey mess with a dozen other would be amorous fly boys. But I don’t want to bore you with the details of the danger of life as a fly I came here to share the interesting conversations I was privy to while I was hanging out in the oval office here in the Whitehouse during the days of what humans call the Watergate scandal. From my vantage point on the wall I was able to hear quite a tale with a cast of characters that, well lets just say for them to call our larvae maggots is extremely hypocritical. They think their fecal matter isn’t odiferous but any fly worth its proboscis can smell a politician miles from the beltway. But how did I get here? C’mon, I’ll walk you through it.
Okay the last thing I remember last night was falling asleep all snug in the hidden hair region of a women that I picked up bar. I had just flown in from Boston and man were my wings tired. It was pouring rain so I found this cozy little bar in Washington DC looking for a safe place to rest when I saw Destiny. Destiny was her name and my destiny was to find a comfy place to sleep in her warm pubic bed which is exactly what I did.
Destiny was at the bar drinking and when some dude started hitting on her it woke me up. “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing alone in a bar like this?” Phhhhtt. Real original! I started dozing back off because I had a feeling this clown wasn’t getting anywhere near my curly hair snuggle mattress. Not with an opening line like that.
But the dude was persistent so I couldn’t fall asleep. He told my ride his name was George and he claimed he was some powerful man in DC. Oh yea, and a Scorpio. Small talk? That was microscopic talk, this dude was going nowhere. I fell asleep when he started asking Destiny what her sign was assuming Georgie boy wasn’t getting any honey tonight, at least not from Destiny. I got the feeling the asshole was married and Destiny would no doubt pick up on that too so I felt safe and sound curled up in her warm curlies. But great God Brundle-fly was I ever wrong.
I woke up and found myself not in a soft perfumed curly muff hair mattress but in a dark coarse long brittle hair bed that smelled of cheap scotch and stale cigarettes. I found myself sleeping in the thick ugly mustache of none other than G. Gordon Liddy. Seems somehow Georgie Porgie got lucky at some point last night and I was given a transfer to Liddy Lip Central which brought here to the oval office of the White House.
Now G. Gordon was a real son of a bitch even by fly standards. Let me just say that I had no trouble throwing up on his smelly-ass lip rug to dissolve some of Destiny’s leftover love juice for my breakfast. He makes puking easy. Apparently he was some kind of bigwig in the FBI and has been screwing people over for a living for some time. He was a personal friend of the other asshole in the office, Richard Nixon. Think I’m bullshitting? Well I shit you not my friends because Tricky Dicky here taped the whole thing to validate my tale s listen to my story as I play the taped conversation and you’ll get what I mean.
TBC

Anno Domini /from Cosmo and His Garden Earth

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It’s well documented the way Judas betrayed Jesus just before their big dinner but there are a few undocumented occurrences that were left out. To begin with it wasn’t supposed to be ‘The Last Supper’ because it was an awards dinner where Jesus was gonna give props to his twelve disciple pals. Before the dinner began Judas came up to Jesus all doped up on his favorite drug opium. His cognitive abilities challenged he attempted to lay a sloppy French tongue slurping kiss on Jesus while at the same time reaching down to comfort his rod and staff. The J-man became alarmed when his man meat began to respond a bit too eagerly so he pushed Judas away. “Judas please! We’ve been through this before, not in front of the guys. It’s my reputation I want to keep up not my dinghy! They can see my semi right through this thin robe.” Judas feeling spurned (and stoned) began yelling “Cut out the dramatics you know very well you like when I comfort you. Now you cast me like a first stone? That father of yours dammit! Now I’m glad I told that fucking Lucifer where he can find you.” A deathly silence filled the room speaking stereophonic volumes. Judas had thrown the son of god under the chariot bus and the shit was about to hit the windmill. Tears welled up in Jesus’ eyes, “Judas…..must you betray me…. with a kiss?” Jesus was hurt but he also knew this was the plan from his old man so he walked into the Garden of Gethsemane with his head and dinghy hanging down. The rest as they say is scripture. As for Judas he was stoned and remorseful so he went back to Lucifer for something stronger to dull his heartache. Lucifer needing to rid himself of the bastard betrayer gave him a dosage way too strong and Judas OD’ed. Judas was found dead in the mud with a contoured confused look on his dead face. By the time Cosmo and Mary Anne returned from the District their son Jesus was dead on a cross.
The sight of the young man nailed to a wooden cross filled Cosmo to the brim with shock. Shock and anger. His beloved youmans had not only lost their way, they had killed the only son. What was even worse for the mourning couple was how violently they killed him. The thought of his son tortured, thorns stuck in his head, nails hammered into his hands and feet, left in the hot sun was too much to bear. Jesus was left to die all alone. Angered Cosmo turned his back on his youmans and headed back to the District with Mary Anne to be with fake Jesus, the child who had become Jesus’ body double. There they would remain for eighteen hundred and twenty three years. It took them that long to reach the final stage of their grieving process. One morning they just agreed it was time to go back to check out garden earth. Cosmo had been gone far too long. They returned just in time to see some dude named Louis Pasteur had figured out the world of tiny little organisms he called germs. Puzzled at these germs Cosmo spoke gently to Mary Anne, “Pius defecation, what the fornication has been going on here?” He needed to review what had been going on in his garden during his absence so they went straight to the surveillance videotapes.
Sans popcorn or any mood enhancing Cosmo and Mary Anne viewed the video on the giant abstract flat screen. They watched the various stages of growth the garden had undergone since their son was killed. Some of it was appalling and some of it endearing. Overall Cosmo was filled with more disappointment than pride. “Look at all this Mary, all the wars, famines, and diseases on Earth! What the burning underworld could they be fighting over?” Mary Anne had majored in Modern Galactic Sociology and was able to grasp the situations well. “Cosmo, these battles they have been waging seem to have two things in common. Arbitrary lines of land ownership and the belief in different gods. They believe they can own part of the garden all for themselves and created lines which they kill to protect. They have formed religions and each religion believes it has all the answers and they are willing to kill any who disagree. Me thinks they have been killing each other for so long half the times they’ve forgotten why. Look at all these atrocities Babe, wars fought in Rome and France between protestants and Catholics, Sudanese war between Christians and Arabs, The Crusades, The Inquisition, not to mention something they call world wars. My sweet nebula what have they done to the memory of our son?” Mary Anne was on the money. The youmans believed it to be garden youman not garden earth. They lock up animals, experiment on animals, why some were even using animals as entertainment, either killing or being killed for youmans pleasure. Cosmo threw up a little in his mouth, “It’s true my love, they have blighted the memory of our son and used Jesus as an excuse to kill and maim. Its deplorable. And these germ things have caused deadly plagues, measles, anthrax, rabies, typhus, small pox, and the bubonic plague. The Black Death. The Bubonic plague that spread everywhere and claimed over 75 million lives. How could those micro-organisms possibly have gotten in my garden?” Mary Anne thought carefully before giving her opinion. The persons name she was about to use was a source of discomfort in their relationship. Not sure why because Cosmo did after all know what kind of work Mary Anne did before they became a cosmic power couple so he knew she had been with others. Even so Cosmo is a god and gods have major ego’s and relationship issues. Of course he had godpenis envy so he was not happy that Mary Anne had sexual history with Mychrighton. “I’m not sure I should mention this or not babe but Mychrighton is pretty well known for his experiments in micro-organism in the Andromeda Strain Galaxy.” Too upset to allow jealousy to sneak into his thought pattern without a hint of injured pride he mulled over her statement. In fact it was an a-ha moment for Cosmo. “Of course, the pathogen killer. Mychreigton had used satellites to destroy his own creations with micro-organism warfare. He would have destroyed them completely if not for the brilliant Lucille of the Babaloo galaxy.” Lucille developed and introduced the Kalocin antidote into the Andromeda Strain. Her brilliant work became a universal antidote which is still used today. “I have to figure out a way to introduce Kalocin in the garden. Maybe we can get this Pasteur guy to think he discovered it.” If Cosmo had dropped Lucille’s name on purpose to counter the subconscious feeling of jealousy it worked. Mary Anne’s face reddened ever so slightly and she angrily reminded herself of the once hot and heavy relationship that was all the rage in the District gossip papers. She thought about firing back with another comment about Mychrighton but took the high road because of the important work ahead.
The two agreed to forge a plan to save the garden and figure out a trap to ensnare the demon seed that was planting demon seeds. Part one was to get the youmans to discover ways to combat the deadly pathogens and hopefully lead up at one point to Kalocin. They believed if they could show the youmans that if they continue on this path of making weapons so destructive it would threaten the existence of the garden it would stop wars. As for the god thing, they hoped that by educating the youmans more about the universe that they would all agree on one theory of how life began and stop killing people who threaten their god or gods. They noted how the youmans had already made giant strides in knowledge. The youmans had figured out mathematics and use abstract thinking and reasoning to solve problems. It’s helped them have a better understanding of their world and introduced the concept of shared education, especially science. Between the various fields of study they were certain the youmans would come to the conclusion that the universe was not created by God and therefore would stop warring. In theory anyway. From simple abacus to Fibonacci and his brilliant scale great minds have developed on earth. “Mary honey, look at some of the intelligent youmans that were in the garden. We had Aristotle, Socrates, Plato, Copernicus, and Galileo to mention a few.” Mary loved to play and said loudly, “What about Marco?” Cosmo chuckled and responded with a quick “Polo!” But Cosmo had more to say. “Yes and not just them, men like Columbus, Magellan, Isaac Newton, they have made tremendous contributions and created things meant for the progress of their species.” Mary Anne had her favorites as well. “Don’t forget Sam an his Morse code, or Jethro Tull and his seed drill. Not to mention Joan of Arc.” The playful jab did not go unnoticed but Cosmo was already thinking ahead. ”Uh huh, many people have had many contributions and with a little nudging we can get the youmans going in the right direction. But we do have to deal with old Mikey boy first. What to do about him?”
What indeed. A very touchy situation especially considering what happened in the past. But this is a different day and a different situation. Cosmo had to come up with a plan to prove that Mychrighton was behind the dabcle sneaking his destructive microscopic killers onto his garden. Up until now the germs an pathogens in his garden were all beneficial. First step was to make sure it wasn’t a natural mutation of the beneficial microbes. Cosmo had to isolate some of the killer disease carriers. He needed to employ the help of a friend. Who can he trust? Not Lucy, that would be a bit too awkward, and James, well James has enough issues with the return of the Klingon wars. The best person for this job is the always Jovial Frodo. Road trip to The Shire!
TBC