It turns out it was a good time to go running: I saw Wavves do a comedy set, met a man with a pinball table that doesn’t exist AND helped him fix it. It turns out that if you have an imaginary game machine you have to use imaginary fuses because real ones make too much sense.
lessons learned from dreams: on space travel
traditional space travel is very crude. The idea of going very fast and expending an enormous amount of energy is not only inefficient but incredibly wasteful. I fact I was admonished about after completely the first trans-galactic flight only to find my next door neighbor there waiting for me. or at least I thought it was the first. as it turns out sequence is also widely misunderstood. rocket travel, he went on to say is akin to trying to take your pants off by unraveling the threads starting at the leg opening. It is much easier to use the zipper. Apparently, he used tesseracts and then can go anywhere he can think of, as long as he knows where it is. “we’re the last generation who has to do this, our kids won’t have the limitation or perception, having grown up with it. They will be able to be everywhere at once. They already are.” He also recommended that we do not put any settlements around the graveyard. “There are noises coming from underneath it”
From teaching Morrissey in drag to fly, to showing a porn starlets stalker about the power of forgiveness by beating the ever living shit out of him, this new discovery show has been making waves.
Water Rats are neither aquatic nor rats but a species of subcutaneous parasitic centipede that is the mascot for the Water Rats 1% motor cycle club. They give their host a gaunt, sallow appearance while increasing adrenaline and endorphins and suppressing empathic responses, making the host incredibly strong and sociopathic. They thrive on a diet heavy in sugar, alcohol, and pharmaceuticals. They can grow to a length of three feet and create ridges underneath the skin that the Water Rats MC members decorate with piercings and tattoos.
The cops cordoned off the area,the lobby of the building was covered in blood and body parts. We hid in the bushes and watched them try to tame the poor ent that went crazy and tore though downtown. They didn’t know what it was that was happening, but two of us had already begun changing to light. It was the end of the word and the world. We rode that giant tree spirit to to edge or the world and knowing, the we joined our ancestors in the sky.
I waited on the platform and could see it in the sky a few clicks away.
The commuter barges were never on time. The main cars always smelled like cabbage and the toilet was always out of order. The tier 2 and 1 seats however were super nice. She had reserved a private suite somewhere on tier 1. She was recently divorced and looked like she stepped out of Disintegration. I hadnt seem her in close to 20 years. A little sadder, a little older, she still smelled like roses.
When i got into publishing the last thing I expected to do was learn a new alphabet that would give me a nose bleed and kill my cat. I suppose if you have to sign your contract in blood they mean something different when they say “We publish dangerous books.”
I have seen the end. It’s all cats.
When you first girlfriend ever suddenly shows up on your door step and asks you to help her hide from the cops, among the first questions you should ask her is why she has a suitcase full of vampire teeth.
They were better looking. Their skin was smoother and seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. Their teeth were whiter. And sharper And there was a whole lot more of them. They were much better dancers, moving like sharks through a school of fish.
I noticed the first one after Mika’s parents show at The Balcony. He was faster than the rest of the punks and while he danced, it looked like flashes of electricity shot off him. It turned the pit into a lightning storm. There was something about him, he didn’t look real. He looked like one of Stephon’s photographs, hyper real, like he had HiDef make-up on, and was constantly being photoshopped to perfection. All the girls were fixated on him, and then he smiled and blinded the room.
Not long after that night I started seeing them everywhere. Always perfect, Always dancing. At the big mall a dance exhibition was being held, and at least half of them were smiling and flashing. It was intoxicating. Hypnotic.
“He just has so many more teeth.”
This was the last thing my sister said to me before she went off with one of them. When she came back she was perfect, she glistened with electricity, and a sliver membrane slid sideways over her eyes when she blinked.
Well we all know that it takes seven people to effectively receive a alien bio transmission and that it will trash a penthouse suite. What’s the old team up to these days?
The Russian is smoking himself to death and raising psychic rabbits on top of the mountain.
The girl quit the assassin bis and now trains ninjas to win tv talent contests.
The girl that disappeared, they say she haunts the hotel were it happened.
Jimmy is immortal now. and insane. and almost constantly trying to kill himself.
His brothers run a fight school on a remote island, where that big tournament is every 100 years.
and well, you all know what I’m doing.
On the plane, Franklin spoke to his assistant, Joey, while he was tuning his guitar.
“If you changed this and that you could stabilize the transfer and geo-sync your position.”
“Frank, what happens when you turn it on.”
“The initial event.”
“But what if it’s already been turned on?”
Franklin turned around to answer him and saw not one but five iterations of Joey, with a guitar, a small key board, a bass, bongos, and a tambourine. A smile spread across his face.
“Well I guess we have a one man band then.”
He thought he had won. He was a sad little garage inventor who worked for the us postal service. And I had tracked him to the time station somewhere in Antarctica. The station was filled with prototypical thinking machines, impossible motion generators, murder siphons, stuff deemed too dangerous for population areas. There were archetypes running through these designs, a sort of robotic shorthand from movies and popular culture, making them seem familiar. No less dangerous though. I found him in he main storage room with several decommissioned pieces of time equipment. He was fixing a differential box, the piece of equipment that makes sure you are geo-synced when you shift. All of this was extremely illegal. His Irish setter ran up to me with her tail wagging.
“Franklin. Stop. It’s over.” My credentials were in plain site. My fire arm covering him in case he attempted to resist.
He stopped and put down his wrench looking over his shoulder at me. He smiled warmly.
“Well Hello Jeremy-”
“It’s Officer Wayland.”
“-I mean Officer Wayland. Comeer Poppy! I think you can put away that heater.” Franklin was petting his dog.
“Franklin, you know I can’t do that. Please stand and come with me or I will be forced to use enhanced tactics.”
“Actually, you have to, if the subject shows no aggression, deadly force is not sanctioned. You have to take me in for processing and then they will have to let me go. That’s the procedure. I know. I wrote it.”
At this point the dog left the room.
“Hey, Where’s my dog going.”
“Please come with me now.”
“Seriously,” Franklin became noticeably agitated and he noticed that he could see his own breathe. The temperature was rapidly decreasing.
His eyes widened, “Did you leave the door open?”
“WHERE’S MY DOG?!?!!”
We got the vtol and searched the flats for the dog, poppy. Finally found her with the pads of her feet frozen to the ground, howling pathetically. He managed to free the dog but her feet were bleeding. Franklin was crying and apologizing. I took the dog from him.
“I’ll surrender, shit I’ll stay out here and freeze to death. Just make sure my dog is ok.”
She did not want to leave him, they both cried pathetically.
“At least it will be over.” I was trying to be comforting. This did not work. I was not trained to be comforting.
I sedated the dog and took off. Franklin Gano receded in my vision and then. Disappeared entirely. I looked down and the dog was gone too.
Dreams are a poor medium for transmitting print files. You would be much better off just using email or even better FTP. Dream transmitted files are always of poor resolution, not to mention full of strange speeling errors, stange characters, photos of naked final exams and, oh yeah, portals for the elder goods to reintroduce themselves to the earth and devour mankind.
Cocktails using fairy ice cubes are delicious. To make fairy ice cubes you take a standard ice cube tray and fill it with water and place a fairy ( dried or fresh, whichever you can get) in each cube. The flavor is somewhere like lavender and elder flower and this is the real reason why you dont see faires any more.
The house your grandparents had is just out side of a town that is a retirement community/high security prison for ex military and intelligence community. It is also alive, sentient, bored, telepathic, and a possessed of a strange sense of humor. Like the plague of cuddly rats. I mean awesome, but gross. You can still see mister schmidt walking his cuddly rat snorkles down main street. He used to be an interrogator of the highest order. H e was magic with a pair of pliars and a blow torch. Now he runs the hardware store “Schmidt & Son”. He doesnt have a son, never married. He actually gay. The son he’s refereing to is Snorkles. Damn he loves that rat.
The town, which has no name although in private it likes to refer to itself as wildemere, is a prototypical “Walking Prison”. Once listed as a citizen/incarcerated it is impossible to leave but in a very subtle way. Say if you need to go one town over for milk that will be allowed, but if you try to run away it knows and manipulates the topography and your perception and pull the old “go down main street one way and come in the other” trick. Or you just “go for walk” where you suddenly have the urge to go for a walk and do so until you are too tired to try an run away.
But hey, there are awesome food trucks. Like the burrito and ice cream ( yes you heard right) truck run by the Egyptian girls. They are crazy and beautiful an make top notch vegan coconut cookies. They might be vampires. I am not sure their names, I just refer to them by the side of the truck they’re on. the one on the right claims to have fallen down a storm drain as a child and seen the inner workings of the wildemere. I guess it goes down about twenty miles and has a giant cuddly rat farm and water fall. It doesnt sound to farfetched ( all things considered) but that one, she likes to lie, for fun.