skanecanyon

[skanecanyon]

The Watchers

It’s not too often that I have the same dream two nights in a row, but it has happened to me recently. The two dreams were not identical, but the content was the same. In each dream, the earth has been visited by an alien species, which I will call The Watchers. They are radically different from humans. They look kind of like the Imperial probe droids from Star Wars, but much bigger and organic, rather than machine-like. They are black in color and have a head like a probe droid, but with no discernible facial features. Below the head was a body from which several jointed limbs hung, just like a probe droid. Each limb had a claw hand at the end of it. There was also a single, prehensile limb, kind of like a tentacle, that hung strait down from its mouth, located at the bottom of the body. This limb had a larger claw hand and was capable of extending downward. These beings made no noise and floated about 100 to 200 feet above the ground. There were only a few of them floating around my neighborhood. They seemed to be mostly observing, but when they saw somebody doing something they didn’t like, they would move to a position directly over that person and then the center arm with the large claw would extend to the ground, grab that person and lift him up into its mouth. I think maybe these aliens were somewhat inspired by the giant spiders from King Kong Skull Island, because I had just watched that recently.

Anyway, society is going about its business, largely oblivious to them, but I’m suspicious of their intentions. A few other people also seem to be hiding from them, afraid of what they might do. I’m with someone in this dream, but I’m not certain who it is. I only know that it’s a female. It could be a friend of mine from the neighborhood. She hadn’t seen the aliens and I knew where they were, so I was taking her to go see them, but we were being careful to not be seen by them. I didn’t want to get too close for fear of what they might do. We walked several blocks from home until I spotted one hovering above a nearby house. As we watched from a distance, we could see a bunch of people partying at the house. They didn’t seem to be too concerned about the alien watching them. Maybe they were too drunk to notice. At one point, the alien floated over one of the people partying in the yard. It lowered its central tentacle with the claw at the end, grabbed one of the partiers and lifted him up into its mouth. The rest of the partiers ran into the house to get away from the alien.

We tried to stay in the shadows, hiding behind trees and ducking behind garages, but despite these attempts to evade, the floating alien was aware of our presence and kept moving its position to keep an eye on us. The rest of the dream is the two of us trying to evade the alien, but it keeps finding us. They moved rather slowly. We were always able to temporarily ditch the alien, but it would eventually catch up to us and find where we were hiding. Then we would run and find a new hiding spot. The last thing I remember, we had climbed up into a tree and were hiding among the foliage. We watched as the alien floated all around us trying to find us, but it would appear as though we successfully lost him. I remember feeling very scared that he might find us and eat us. Then I must have woke up, because I don’t remember any more. This was one of the coolest dreams I’ve had in a while.

[skanecanyon]

The Day Lake Como Blew

          This dream starts out with me seemingly leading a sort of field investigation / field trip. I'm in a canoe on Lake Como (an inner city lake that I live just a few blocks away from in real life), and I'm with a bunch of school kids. I'd say there are at least 5 or 6 canoes full of people. I'm the only adult. I get the sense that maybe I'm a teacher or something. We're investigating a strange phenomenon that is occurring on the lake in what can best be described as standing concentric waves. That is to say, concentric waves that aren't moving. They're not radiating out from a central point as you would expect them to. It's kind of like that scene from Jurassic Park when the impact of the T-Rex's footsteps are causing concentric vibration waves in the glass of water, only on a much, much bigger scale. It's like there's something big going on deep underground that is causing them.

           We paddle our way over to the South East corner of the lake, where the little parking lot and the fishing pier is. As we approach the shore, the water closer to the shore becomes very agitated. It starts in just one spot, but soon spreads along the shore line. I sense that something big is about to happen and I order all canoes to retreat from the area and make towards some safe shoreline where they can get out of the water. Next thing I know, I'm by myself, frantically paddling toward the shore, trying to stay ahead of the agitation. The entire surface of the ground and water begins to shake as I'm paddling, and suddenly the ground seems to collapse into the earth all along the shoreline where the water is so agitated. As this happens, giant plumes of smoke and lava erupt from the ground. It is then that I realize that the entire lake sits in the calderas of a volcano that is now about to blow. I hit the shoreline with so much speed that my canoe actually rides up unto the shore for quite a ways on the East side of the lake, right across from Como Park Sr. High (my old high school). I get out and start running Northward towards Victoria street just as the entire lake blows. Molten lava, rocks and steam get thrown high into the air. Burning bits of ash and lava come crashing back to earth all around me. Suddenly I find myself on a bike, zigging and zagging to avoid the falling volcanic debris that is raining down upon me. I manage to avoid getting hit, but I can see other people, who had been walking around the lake, running in terror and being hit by burning pieces of lava. I bike like a motherfucker, as fast as I can down Victoria, until I am a safe distance away and remain relatively unscathed by the whole incident.

           Next thing I know, it's some time later. Probably several days or weeks later. The volcano has gone silent once again. Things have returned to a relatively calm scene, and I'm back down by the lake, viewing the aftermath. The lava flow has created a second peninsula on East side of the lake (There already exists one peninsula on the North side of the lake in real life. Now there is a second one). The lava that created the new peninsula is still cooling as steam rises from the now blackened lava field.

          Now this is where shit gets really crazy and I'ma have a hard time explaining it. Most of the water in the lake is gone and is instead now a field of corn. All planted in nice rows. For some reason, I need to get to Oprah Winfrey's house to let her know about the eruption, but I'm not sure exactly where it is. I only know that I have to hack my way through this corn field to get there. Suddenly, Bernie Sanders is there. He's showing me where to start hacking so that I can get to Oprah's house, but I'm disagreeing with him, saying, "No, no, I have to go in over here," as I'm pointing to a different area. I start hacking my way through the corn at the spot I had chosen. I say “hacking,” which brings to mind the vision of a machete or something, as though I'm hacking my way through a jungle or something, but this is not quite the case. I use the term hacking for lack of a better term. Shaving may be more appropriate. You see, I have this big glass blade, like a razor blade, that I'm pushing into the corn stalks to sheer them off at the base. By doing this, I'm creating a path through the corn. No idea where this giant glass blade suddenly came from.

           After a long time shaving my way through the corn, I emerge into a clearing where there sits a rustic old cabin. This is Oprah's house. It's funny, because just a few days ago, this was the middle of Lake Como. Oprah is there. She invites me inside. The interior is very rustic as well. Not the way I would have expected Oprah Winfrey to be living. I tell her about the volcano erupting and the second peninsula that the resulting lava had formed. She is very glad to hear the news and sees it as a business opportunity (WTF?).

           Anyway, this is all I remember. I woke up shortly thereafter. As usual, there are elements to this dream that I can attribute to having experienced recently in real life. The volcano probably comes from my recent viewing of Cosmos (a great show). There was talk of a volcanic eruption in the last episode I watched. Oprah Winfrey no doubt comes from an argument I've been having on Twitter with a bunch of willfully ignorant QAnon conspiracy theorists who were trying to tell me that Oprah Winfrey is a pedophile, and that she was just recently arrested (she isn't, and she wasn't). Bernie no doubt just comes from the fact that the Democratic presidential primaries have been going on and he is consequently always in the news. I like Bernie, I just disagree with him on where to start cutting through the corn field. 

           A very cool little dream, all in all. Very frightening at times, but I hesitate to call it a nightmare. It was more like an action adventure. Also, the second dream that I can recall where I have had to flee from an erupting volcano. The other one is in this dream journal in an older post. 

[skanecanyon]

Trouble In Paradise

          As this dream opens, I find myself in a tropical paradise. I am very happy. My dad is still alive. My mom is there, and we are either vacationing or living in a very tropical resort type of setting. Lots of foliage and flowers. Tropical birds in the trees. I get the impression that we have moved and that this is going to be my new life. There is an outdoor patio area located in the woods not too far away from where we are living. It has a floor comprised of patio bricks, contains a table and some outdoor furnishings, and is surrounded by lots of foliage and tiki torches. I can't wait to kick back and relax with a book and a drink and take some selfies to post online for all my friends back in cold, miserable Minnesota to see.

           In order to get to this outdoor patio area, you have to walk for a ways down this dirt road that cuts through a wooded area. As my mom and I walk down this road, we come across this woman who seems to be a botanist. She's deaf and she speaks like you would expect a deaf person to speak. She's telling us about this kind of flower that she has developed, which is growing there alongside the road. It kind of looks like a hydrangea, but it is much redder and contains these "special flowers" that have hairy tendrils emanating from them. She tells us that you can cut these special flowers off and use them to start new plants. She was in the process of doing this as we encountered her. As I look alongside the road, I can see where she has planted many different types of wildflowers, some of which I can identify. I see some Royal Catchfly and some Purple Prairie Clover. These are both species that are native to Minnesota. In real life, I have spent the last couple of years turning my backyard into a pollinator haven and I planted quite a few of both of these, as well as many others.  

           Suddenly my mom is no longer with me, but I continue down the dirt road until it opens up into a beach area. The surroundings are beautiful. Blue sky, white sand, waves lapping upon the shore. I look across the bay and I can see architecture that resembles what might be found in Greece. White washed buildings, lots of domes. I have my phone with me and I'm trying to take pictures that I can post online, but my camera is having a hard time auto-focusing for some reason and I'm disappointed that I can't get a good shot. All the people around me are dressed in ancient garb comprised of flowing robes, tunics, sandals, and head dresses. I get the feeling as though I have stepped through a portal into another place and time. There is a market place across the bay. I can see people conducting business in front of the gates of what appears to be an ancient city. It almost seems like I've been cast back into biblical times. There appears to be a priest or some other high official dressed in particularly fancy clothing, announcing to everyone around him that they must now start worshiping a new god, who goes by the name Aliya (not to be confused with the  Alia Atreides, sister of Paul Atreides, from the Dune series by Frank Herbert, which is, of course, the best story ever written), and as a result, everyone must start wearing the new ceremonial head dress, which is maroon and gold (oddly enough the same colors as my old alma mater), similar to what you might see someone wearing in Cecil B. DeMille's Ten Commandments.  

           Next thing I know, I'm back at our house and I'm screwing a bunch of silver wear utensils to a wooden board. I'm experimenting with different ways to orient the metal knives, spoons and forks that I'm attaching to this board. Each one is held in place with one screw through the middle of the handle, so that the individual utensil can spin like a propeller. My dad asks me what I'm doing. I tell him that I'm building a solar power array. For some reason, I'm thinking that if I leave this board with all the silver wear sitting in the sun all day, the silver wear will get hot and I can use that heat to generate electricity. A few years ago, in real life, I experimented with building a passive solar heater that was made out of aluminum tubes that I had painted black. I patterned it after something I saw on YouTube. It actually worked, but it was incredibly heavy and awkward to use, so I dismantled it. It would have worked much better as a permanent construction project that was physically built into the house. Anyway, I digress. I'm not sure how this fits into the rest of the dream, because next thing I know, I'm back on that beach.

           This time as I exit the dirt road onto the beach, I am approached by a small boy of Middle Eastern or Mediterranean descent. He is standing in front of me, looking up at me and singing a song in a foreign language. I get the feeling that he wants money or something. I stop and listen for a few minutes, then I realize that I know the song and I sing the last few words along with him in this foreign language. I can't tell you what song it is, or what language it's in. I only know that I'm somehow familiar with it. As soon as I join in, the boy loses interest, turns and walks away. Apparently, I had ruined his gig.

          The scene on the beach is exactly like it was before, but it is now later in the day. I look across the bay at the structures I had noticed before. The shadows are now longer. The market place is still bustling with activity though. I walk along the beach to the other side of the bay, where the priests were making their proclamation in front of the city gates earlier. I notice that I am now dressed pretty much the same as everyone else. I'm wearing a desert style robe and a rather Western bandanna (I frequently wear a bandanna in real life, as I am a bald man). I'm also wearing a primitive necklace with leather strapping and a decorative stone with a strange symbol carved into it. It doesn't strike me as strange though in the dream. It's like my birth sign or something.

           As I walk up to the city gates, which is very much like a Roman era city gate, I am suddenly grabbed by a very large muscular thug type who is wearing clothing similar to what a Roman soldier would wear. He grips my arms from behind me and completely immobilizes me. I struggle to break free from his grip, but it is useless. Then this other regular sized guy approaches me from the front. I recognize him as the priest who was declaring the new official religion earlier in the dream. He's looking at my bandanna and is very angry. He rips it from my head and waves it in front of me demanding, "What is this? Why aren't you wearing the official Aliya head dress? This is blasphemy, punishable by death!" Then he looks at the stone necklace I'm wearing. It further infuriates him and he rips it from around my neck and throws it to the ground. I explain to him, "Look, you just made this proclamation earlier today. You can't expect everyone to be prepared for the changes yet. I was just on my way to buy one of the new head dresses. You have to believe me." He steps back and thinks about it and decides to spare me my life. He confiscates my bandanna and necklace and gives me a maroon and gold head dress to wear. "Don't let me catch you again without it," he warns, and he lets me pass into the city.

           Shortly after entering the city, I run into a friend of mine who is dressed normally. Modern day Western wear comprised of jeans and a T-shirt. No head dress or anything. As I walk with him, I'm complaining about the new mandatory religion. I'm telling him how bullshit I think it is. At no point do I question why he is not dressed like everyone else. Now for some reason I am suddenly holding an old West revolver in each hand and I'm using them to point at things. As we pass other people, I point at one woman who is just dressed in peasant clothing. "Why isn't she wearing the religious head dress?" I demand. The we pass another gentleman who is also dressed in peasant garb. I point at him with one of the revolvers and ask, "Why doesn't he have to wear the religious head piece?" My friend has no answers for me. Also, I seem to be talking in a British accent and I'm not sure why.

           We make our way back towards the city gates where I had entered. I'm good and pissed now because I seem to have been singled out to wear this ridiculous headpiece. I'm noticing that some of the objects in my dream are now modern again. For example, I can see a glass top table surrounded my upholstered office chairs on wheels in an otherwise Roman Antiquity setting. As we are leaving the city, we are once again stopped by the religious police. Same guy as before. This time I am not restrained by the big thug, he’s not even there this time, but the priest guy demands to see my gun. I hand it to him (I only appear to have one gun now. I don’t know what happened to the other one). He looks at it in amazement, having never seen a gun before. Then he grabs it by the hand grip and points the barrel right at my face. "Hey, whoa, be careful there!" I say to him. That's not a toy. I'm holding my hands up as I talk calmly to him. Then I pull a lightning fast judo move on him that gets me my gun back. Suddenly it is I who am pointing the gun at him. As he stands there with a shocked look on his face, I sense a presence sneaking up behind me. I spin around quickly to discover I am now pointing the gun at....wait for it....Gene fucking Wilder dressed in character as Willy Wonka. How the fuck my brain came up with this, I don't know. He's standing right in front of me and giving me a very sinister look, as if to say, there's no way you can escape. I shove the barrel of my revolver in his mouth and threaten to blow his head off, but this doesn't faze him. With my gun in his mouth he says, "Go ahead, kill me, it won't make a difference." So I pull the gun out of his mouth and point it at his feet instead. I say to him, "Okay, well how about I wound you instead," and I threaten to shoot his feet. This causes him to become very concerned. He does NOT want me to shoot his feet, and he lets us pass.

           We exit the city gate, but now it's like we're in a modern day shopping mall. There are walkways, escalators, kiosks and glass store fronts. People are milling about all around us, now dressed in modern day clothes. I am the only one who is still dressed like a Roman civilian from Antiquity. As we walk further into the mall, I exasperatingly ask my friend, "Are we outside of the Goddamn city yet?!" Then I grab the stupid religious headpiece from my head and angrily throw it to the ground. My friend laughs and says to me, "Ha ha ha, I guess you've finished the book then, eh?" I'm not sure what this means. I think he might be talking about a religious text. As we continue to walk, we pass a doctor who is dressed in a white lab coat. He is talking to a female about something. The female seems very concerned. I try to hear what they're talking about, but I can't make it out. My friend asks me, "Well, where should we go now?" I tell him that I'd like to see the fountains. For some reason I think there are some interactive fountains somewhere in the mall that we need to find. I think this might come from a shopping center that I visited in real life in Honolulu a long time ago that actually did have an interactive fountain in it. You could press buttons to make it do different things. Why I'm thinking about it now, I don't know. Anyway, then I suggest to my friend that we should try the upper level, as we haven't been there yet, and we head up an escalator.

           I must have awakened shortly thereafter, because this is all I remember. Normally, I can attribute a lot of the things I see in my dreams to things I have just seen or experienced in real life. This dream had a lot of weird stuff in it though. There is some stuff in there that I can account for, but it's stuff that I haven't thought about, seen, or experienced for many years. So my brain must be really reaching back into the recesses for content in this one.  

[skanecanyon]

My Only Memory Of Apollo And The Only Time I’ve Ever Seen A UFO

       This isn’t a dream, but I wanted to tell this story in honor of the 50th Anniversary of the Apollo moon landing. I was 2 years old when we landed on the moon in 1969, 5 years old when the Apollo Program ended in 1972. So I don't have very many memories of it, but I do remember one night in particular. My parents used to let me stay up to watch the news (and then Johnny Carson's monologue) before I had to go to bed. One night, they were saying on the news that if you went outside and looked up into the sky at such and such time (It was shortly after dark), you could possibly get a glimpse of the Apollo spacecraft crossing the sky above Minnesota. By my estimate, it must have been either Apollo 15 or 16, because it was warm out, and Apollo 17 launched in December. I remember the whole family going out into the yard and trying to spot it. Some of the neighbors were out as well. I don't remember if any of us actually saw it. It would have appeared as nothing more than a pinpoint of light anyway. I see satellites crossing the sky almost every single night nowadays. It only takes them a few seconds in most cases to travel from one horizon to the other. Anyway, I know it's not much, but that's about all I remember. The Apollo Program ended shortly thereafter. I became an Estes model rocket junkie after that and I always wanted the Saturn 5 model, but it was super expensive and I never did get it. I did get the Space Shuttle one, but that one had issues. I believe I fucked it up beyond repair after the first flight.

        Anyway, speaking of seeing things in the sky, allow me to indulge you with the one time I saw a UFO. It was about 10 years ago in the Summer. I was on my bike at the intersection of Parker and Chatsworth Court in Roseville, MN at about 4:30AM. Not many streetlights around there, so it was pretty dark. I was biking East on Parker when all the sudden I see this shiny, chrome colored orb (kind of like a slightly squashed sphere, almost hamburger shaped), about 2-3 feet in diameter, floating silently about 150-200 feet off the ground, traveling from Northwest to Southeast. It passed directly over the intersection where I had stopped to watch it. It was perfectly silent, maintaining a constant altitude and traveling in a perfectly straight line. No lights of any kind, but like I say, I could tell it was a solid chrome color with no apparent pattern of any kind on it. It definitely was not an airplane, or a helicopter, or a drone. Best I can figure, it must have been a Mylar balloon. If it was aliens, they were very small ones. I would be tempted to say that it was definitely a Mylar balloon if it weren't for a couple of peculiarities about it. There was no apparent string or cord hanging from it, and its orientation in space was fixed. It didn't wobble or spin like you would expect a balloon to behave, but instead, it was fixed quite solidly in a horizontal position and maintaining a steady course and altitude. There was no breeze that night, but this thing was moving about maybe 5 miles per hour. About the same speed as a jogger.

        Anyway, next thing I know, I'm waking up in someone’s front yard and my butthole hurts (not really). To this day, I'm not exactly sure what I saw. If it was a Mylar balloon, it was quite a bit bigger than any one I've ever seen for sale in the stores. That said, I don't know what else it could have been. Perhaps it was a tiny alien spacecraft, carrying tiny aliens, from a tiny alien world.

[skanecanyon]

Worms In My Pee

     I haven't had too many dreams that I would consider to be nightmares, but this one qualifies. It's probably not suitable for younger readers or people who are easily offended or grossed out, but I call them as I see them. I don't have a whole lot of control over my dreams.

      I should probably give some background about myself first. In January of 2015, I had to have a partial nephrectomy to have a cancerous tumor removed from my right kidney. They ended up having to remove about 15% of that kidney, so now I only have 1.85 kidneys. When they stitched me back up after cutting me open, they used biodegradable stitches on my kidney and surrounding muscle layers, and then they just used staples to hold my skin together until it healed. It sounds bad, but it actually worked well. Took about 2 months to fully recover. The biodegradable stitches are designed to just fall apart over time and be absorbed by the body. A few of the ones holding my kidney together though ended up working their way through the kidney, down the ureter, into the bladder, and I ultimately ended up pissing them out. I was not warned of this ahead of time however. There was just an instance one morning when I was taking a piss, and out came some tiny fragments of silk. I suspected that maybe they were stitches and my suspicions were confirmed when I talked to my urologist who told me that indeed they were stitches and that it was normal to piss a few of them out, and that I shouldn't be alarmed. It was a shocking experience though, one that is burned into my brain forever, and I'm sure it is the basis for this dream.  

     Anyway, the dream starts out with me taking a piss in the toilet of the basement bathroom as I often do. It is a sparsely equipped bathroom in the unfinished half of the basement. A small, dimly lit, unventilated bathroom with a linoleum tile floor, three cheap plywood walls and one yellow cinder block wall containing a small window toward the top that cannot be opened. It contains a toilet, a small sink with a bare bulb porcelain light fixture above it, a 1950s era medicine cabinet and a waste basket. Although this bathroom has all the charms of a prison cell, I use this toilet frequently because, oddly enough, although the toilet is below ground, it has much greater flushing power than the one upstairs. So in my dream, I'm standing there taking a piss when all the sudden I notice something in the water. It looks like a small piece of stitching, like what I actually experienced in real life a few years earlier. It is about a quarter inch long at most. I didn't see it actually come out my penis, I only noticed it afterwards, so I was unsure what it was or where it came from, but I felt compelled to somehow scoop it out of the piss-water for closer examination. 

     I looked around the bathroom for something I could use to scoop it out with, but couldn't find anything at first. Then I looked back into the toilet bowl. Now the fragment was larger than before. Now it appears to be a small twig or something, slightly bent, about 1-2 inches long. I'm thinking, what the fuck is going on here? I must be losing my mind. Again my focus turns to finding something to scoop it out with. For a moment, I think about just picking it out with my hand, but quickly decide that would be too gross. After a brief search, I look back in the bowl again. Now the think seems to be alive! It appears to be a small, thin earthworm, wiggling and stretching, and trying to climb up the side of the bowl, but it can't. Now I'm kind of freaking out. How the fuck did this thing suddenly become animated?

     As I stand there wondering what to do (I could have just flushed it, but for some reason I didn't), I notice a Pyrex liquid measuring glass sitting on top of the medicine cabinet. It's being used to hold pens and pencils, as well as some other random things. I grab it and dump the contents out on the floor. Way more ends up spilling out than what the 2 cup capacity measuring glass is capable of holding. Not only are there pens and pencils, but there also appears to be quite a few other random things, including tooth brushes, loose change, paper clips and even a couple of pill bottles. One of the pill bottles is quite large, almost as large as the measuring cup itself. 

     Then I turn my attention back to the toilet bowl. The water has turned from a clear, piss yellow color to an opaque, milky yellow color. The worm has multiplied and gotten bigger. There are a few of them in there now, each about the size of a night crawler, twisting, squirming and stretching in the water. Some are trying to climb up the inside of the bowl. It's hard to tell how many there are because the water is so cloudy now. I dip the measuring cup into the water and scoop up a bunch of them. There must have been at least 20 of them in the glass, all squirming and reaching, trying to get out of the cup. In order to contain them, I grabbed the large pill bottle and put it on top of them. This caused them all to stop moving for a second, but then they soon resumed their squirming. One of them pushed past the pill bottle, reached its way out of the glass and started to wrap itself around one of my fingers on the hand I was using to hold the measuring cup. This freaked me out and caused me to drop the whole thing back into the toilet bowl.

      It was here that I must have woke up. In real life, I had been sleeping on the bed in the finished part of the basement. I often take naps down there because that's where my computer is, and it's nice and cool downstairs. Relived that it was all just a dream, I got up and actually went to take a piss in the very toilet I had just dreamed about. Thankfully, there were no worms involved (although that basement bathroom is known to harbor some impressively large centipedes. I didn't see any this time). Then I crawled back into bed, fell asleep again, and continued dreaming.

      The next dream is very short, but it is unique in that it references the first dream. Not a continuation of it, but a reference to it. I don't think this has ever happened to me before. In it, I am with two of my friends and we're driving on our way to go see a concert. I can even tell you the name of the band. It's Bring Me The Horizon. I'm sure I'm dreaming this because they play these guys all the time on 93X in the morning. There's a couple of songs they do that I like. Anyway, the concert is being held in a house somewhere and we're driving around trying to find it. I'm in the back seat and my friends are in the front seat. As we're driving around, I'm trying to tell this story about how I had a dream in which I pissed worms, but before I can even finish a sentence, my friend keeps butting in and sarcastically finishing it for me in the form of a question. He's doing this to be a smart ass. I keep telling him "No, no...just shut up and listen to me," but he keeps doing it until I finally say, "okay, whatever...I'm not going to tell you about it then."

      Next thing I know, we finally find the house and go inside. There are a lot of people sitting around, but there doesn't seem to be any indication that there is going to be a concert. We're roaming around this house looking for the concert, but we can't find it. All the rooms are different, and there seems to be an inordinate number of them for your average house. We're navigating our way past people, through hallways and rooms, up and down stairs, but we can't find this concert. People are looking at us like they're wondering what we're doing there. It felt like the scene from Spinal Tap when they were wandering around lost trying to find the stage. This is about all I can remember. We never do find the concert. I'd also like to point out that being lost and/or trying to find my way is a very common theme in my dreams. So there must be some deep seated psychological issue there. Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed this episode of fucked up things from my subconscious. Have a great day. If you ever piss worms, see your doctor immediately.

[skanecanyon]

That One Time I Brought Down Richard Nixon

          This dream is actually from a couple of nights ago so the memory of it is fading fast, but I shall do my best to document it as accurately as I can. The first thing that I can recall, I'm down by the pavilion on Lake Como, which is an actual lake very near where I live. In real life, there is a large pavilion right on the lake where they host concerts and plays and stuff during the Summer time. Directly across from it is a big hill that is occupied by a bunch of oak trees and a picnic area on top. Carved into the side of that hill is the Hamms waterfall. It's been like this for as long as I can remember. In my dream, however, the waterfall and picnic areas are missing and instead, the whole hill is densely covered in forest. Nestled deep in the heart of this forest is a small shack. I find myself breaking into this shack in the wee hours before dawn because I'm trying to find incriminating evidence about something Richard Nixon did. The inside of the shack is dimly lit with a couple of incandescent work lights hanging from the ceiling. It's kind of dirty and unorganized inside. There are some old paintings that are covered in dust propped up against one of the walls. An old cash register sits on a podium in the corner. The rest of the stuff in there is just stuff you would expect to find in a gardening shed, lawn mowers, garden tools, bags of fertilizer, etc. The shed belongs to the Parks Department (Como Park), but for some reason, it is also being used by Richard Nixon. I don't know exactly what it is I'm looking for, but I know I have to find it fast before the Parks and Rec. workers show up. Time is running out, and before I get a chance to get out of there, in walks Richard Nixon. At first we are startled to see each other. I'm thinking, oh shit, I've been caught red handed, but then Nixon says to me, "where's my breakfast?" in a somewhat demanding tone. It was then I realized that he thinks I work for him. I look over to my right and there is now an offshoot kitchen in the shed that is fully furnished in 1970s style furniture and appliances. Nixon sits down at the kitchen table and opens his newspaper, while I go to work making him something to eat. He sits silently reading his paper. I'm the only one doing any talking, but I'm mocking him by imitating his voice and hand gestures. I'm saying shit like, "I am not a crook," and giving him the double V for victory hand gesture that he is famous for. He occasionally looks up from his paper with a look of confusion and concern on his face. He doesn't know what's going on, and starts to seem suspicious of me. Then a couple of dudes in black suits and sunglasses show up and say, "C'mon, it's time to go." I suspect that they are secret service. Side note: I'm probably dreaming about Nixon because I recently watched a special on television that was comparing the Trump presidency to the Nixon presidency. So the vision of Nixon was fresh in my mind.

          Outside, a black car is waiting. I go to get in the back seat, but it's filled with pumpkins. I have to move them all out of the way so that there is room for my mom. I don't know where we're going, but I know that we're picking up my mom along the way. So I toss all of the pumpkins behind the back seat into a trunk area and climb in. This is actually the last I see of Nixon. I don't think he ever got in the car. Next thing I know, I'm sitting in the back seat with my mom and the two secret service dudes are in the front seat. We end up driving to a house on Summit Avenue. In real life, Summit Avenue is an area of Saint Paul where fantastically wealthy people live. Large plots of land with large mansions on them. Normally, the East and West bound lanes are separated by a large, grassy boulevard, dotted with large, old trees, gardens and a bike path. In my dream however, the boulevard is also occupied by large houses. We pull up to one of these houses and get out of the car. It is a Southwestern style adobe, but it has been painted powder blue instead of the traditional clay color that you would normally see. In real life, we don't have any houses like this around here.

          It turns out that these secret service dudes are also double agents who are looking for incriminating evidence against Nixon as well, and they think the guy who lives in this house is just the one to get it for them. He is like a black market dealer who has connections. I don't recall my mom being present anymore for the rest of the dream, but me and the two secret service guys enter the house. As we are approaching on foot, the one SS guy says to me, "You just keep quiet and let us do all the talking." On the inside, the house is like a museum of avant-garde art. Weird porcelain statues of body parts. Strange paintings hanging on the walls. The main room that we enter is mostly white and contains many small stair cases that lead to different levels of marble floors, each one displaying different statues and paintings. It’s almost like an M.C. Escher painting. There is a sunken living area in the center with some furnishings. The guy who lives there is the guy who played Nick Tortelli (Carla's sleazy ex-husband from the television show Cheers). He's probably in my dream because I recently saw that guy on an episode of The Last O.G. His wife is sitting on a couch in the living area. She is being played by Maureen Collins who used to be one of the cast members of Mad TV back in the day and also has a reoccurring role on Parks and Recreation as a news media person. I saw her on a recent episode of P and R and so that's probably why she is in my dream as well. The guy (who I will refer to as Nick from this point on) is standing at a counter with his back turned to us as we enter the house. He is putting something into what appears to be a secret safe located under a porcelain sink basin. This is hard to explain. The sink basin rises up out of the counter top on hydraulics or something, revealing a safe underneath (not unlike a safe that is located behind a painting). He then hits a secret button and the sink recesses back into the counter top, completely hiding the safe that is underneath. Now it just looks like any other normal wash basin and functions as one too. He turns to greet us as we enter. "Please, come in and make yourselves comfortable," he says. He is very hospitable. I make my way to the sunken living room where his wife (who I will call Maureen from this point on) is sitting, while the two SS guys walk off with Nick to negotiate a deal to get information about Nixon.

          As I sit there with Maureen, I can't help but notice that she looks very familiar, but I can't put my finger on it. I ask her if we have met before and she tells me, "Yes, you guys were here not too long ago for the buyers convention." By "you guys," she is talking, not about me and the SS dudes, but rather me and the other managers that I used to work with when I was running a game store in real life (Games By James). I worked there for over ten years and we used to have to go to these annual buyers conventions where vendors got a chance to show off their latest products. These were always held in convention centers and never in private houses, but for some reason in my dream, it had been held in a house. As soon as she said that, I remembered who she was, and I said something to the effect of, "Oh yeah, I remember. You had some games set up right over there," as I pointed to a long hallway that was behind me. She was nodding her head and said, "Yes, that's right." She seems kind of perturbed that I didn't recognize her though and her responses had a snarky tone to them.

          After a few minutes, the three men return. The two SS guys seem disappointed. They were unable to negotiate a deal to get the information they were looking for. "C'mon, let's go. We're done here," the one SS guy says to me and motions towards the door. I get up to leave and as we are walking toward the door, I get an idea. Maybe flattery would work. As we passed a statue of a giant pair of lips hanging on the wall, I point to it and say to Nick, "I like that. You know, I always thought it would be cool to have a bathtub faucet that was a giant mouth that water came spilling out of" (that actually would be pretty cool in my opinion). His eyes lit up. He thought that was a fantastic idea. He was so glad that someone else could appreciate fine art. My compliment worked and, after some consideration, he decided to give us the information we were looking for. Then he invited us to attend a party that was going on in another part of the house.

          He led us through the house to a large screen porch (for lack of a better description). Maybe about 10,000 square feet. There were several dinner tables set up in there. People were sitting around talking, laughing, drinking, eating and having a good time. There was a large open area that was being used as a dance floor. A band was playing in one corner of the room, featuring a rather flamboyant male lead singer. I don't recall the song. There was a piano in the background that people were sitting on, but it was not being used by the band. Lots of people had gathered and were listening to the performance. I parked myself in a chair directly opposite from the band, about maybe 50 or 60 feet away. The lead singer was carrying a hockey stick for some reason, and he was mingling with the audience while he was singing. At one point, he came up to me and stood right in front of me. He brought the hockey stick up above his head and brought it down fast and hard like a club. He was trying to hit me over the head with it, but I put my arms up in a defensive posture and blocked his blow. The hockey stick broke in two as he smashed it against my arms. Oddly enough, it didn't hurt or do any damage to me. Next thing I know, I'm wearing roller blades and have a hockey stick of my own. There's a loose tennis ball on the dance floor. I take to the dance floor and I start manipulating this tennis ball like a goddamn pro. The singer is trying to block my shots, but I'm out maneuvering him like crazy. He doesn't stand a chance. I shoot the ball into the area where the rest of the band is set up. He's trying to stop me, but he can't. I'm hitting the drum set and some of the other musicians, but they never stop playing. They just try to duck my shots. The lead singer has stopped singing though and he has a concerned look on his face as he is unable to stop me. I get the ball on the rebound several times and I'm doing all kinds of trick shots. At one point, I scoop the ball up into the air with my stick and hit it like a baseball. I never played league hockey as a kid, but I do have a stick and skates in real life, and I've played plenty of neighborhood games. I can hold my own, but in my dream, I'm much better than I am in real life.

          This is about all I remember. I must have woke up at this point. I don't know exactly what the evidence was that I obtained, but it must have been pretty valuable because Nixon was in fact brought down. Dick was tricky, but not as tricky as me.      

[skanecanyon]

The Weed Debacle

           I haven't made a dream journal entry in quite a long time. It hasn't been for the lack of dreams, but mostly a lack of time. That, and the fact that I'm an inherently lazy person. I've had some trouble sleeping though as of late, because of my shitty sinuses, so I took some NyQuil yesterday before I went to bed to knock me out. Never fails. I love NyQuil, almost more than anything. I also like the taste of NyQuil. Is that bad? Anyway, during my glorious slumber, I had the following dream, which I will call The Weed Debacle.

            As the dream opens, I find myself on an old Huffy dirt bike, on my way to school. It's unclear how old I am. I'm trying to carry a lot of stuff and ride a bike at the same time. The bike seems too small. I got a big backpack on and I'm trying to carry another bag, and a wooden plank that I have a bunch of marijuana glued to. I think it's supposed to be a forest diorama or something, wherein the weed is representing the trees and shrubberies. I have to be careful carrying it because some of the weed is falling off. The plank has a handle on one end that I'm holding it by. I think it's supposed to be part of a science project of some kind. I'm running late because I wanted to get to school early so I could quickly read a book that I was going to have to give a report on that morning. I hadn't even begun to read it yet. Despite the urgency to get there as quickly as possible though, I opted to ditch the bike and just walk, because trying to ride it while carrying all that stuff was getting frustrating. The whole time I'm walking, I'm thinking, oh man....now I'm really fucked. Now I have even less time to read this whole book.

            The school that I arrive at is not my old high school, or any school that I ever attended in real life, but I walk into the place, carrying all my shit, and I seem to know where to go. I entered an area where there were a few tables, and sitting at one of the tables that was very near a door that I had to go through, was my old friend, Mike, who was an actual friend of mine in real life up until he died about 10 years ago. I think this marks only the second time a dead friend or relative has ever appeared in one of my dreams. Anyway, he was sitting with his profile towards me, looking down at a book he was holding. He didn't notice me, but as I approached, I kept thinking, how can this be? Mike died a long time ago. I didn't say anything to him as I passed, because I thought that this surely must be a trick, or I must be hallucinating or something.

            I went through the door and emerged into a larger student lounge area. Up ahead, I see another friend of mine (who is still alive) sitting on a couch with a couple of other people, one of whom is, once again, my dead friend Mike. At this point I'm thinking, what the fuck is going on here? I just passed Mike in the other room, and now here he is sitting in front of me once again. How did he get past me? He must have an identical twin. The funny thing is that Mike actually was a twin in real life, but a fraternal one. He had a twin sister. What I'm seeing in my dream is two identical Mikes though. I think they may have been dressed differently, however. This Mike was in conversation with another person next to him as I approached, and again, didn't seem to notice me. I approached my other friend with a confused look on my face, as if to say, what the fuck is going on here? How come Mike is here when he's been dead for ten years. I should add, he's not a zombie in this dream. He's as though he was the last time I saw him. Just normal Mike. My other friend is just sitting there with a smile on his face. He shifts his eyes toward Mike, without moving his head, while at the same time raising his eyebrows, as if to say, "Yep, it's Mike. He's back." The whole time, Mike remains unaware of my presence. He just keeps talking to the person next to him. I think it was a girl. At this point, I'm quite tired of lugging all that stuff around. I tell my friend that I'm going to run to my locker real quick and put some stuff away, and then I'll be right back.

            Next thing I know, I'm staring at a wall of lockers. They're all different sizes and shapes, and don't seem to be laid out in any logical order. Some of them have been broken into. Some have pad locks on them. Some have combination locks. Some have no locks at all. Some of them have locks on them, but the locks aren't locked. I was having a hard time remembering which locker was mine. I was searching through a few of the open ones, but they were all empty. Finally, I found a locker with a combination lock on it that was locked. I was certain it was my locker, but I couldn't remember the combination. I stood there for a while trying to remember it, but eventually just said fuck it, and walked back to the student lounge area, still carrying all my stuff.  

            When I got back to the lounge area, suddenly everyone was gone and it was just Mike sitting there. This time he noticed me. I approached him and we tried to awkwardly engage in small talk. It was mostly, "Hey, how's it going, haven't seen you for a while" kind of stuff, but I remember thinking the whole time, was this guy's death all a hoax? Am I being had here? He asked me what the plank thing was that I was carrying and so I showed him my weed diorama. It had probably upwards of a pound of weed glued to it. Then, for whatever reason, I was trying to shove the whole thing into my backpack, despite the fact that it was obviously way too long. My backpack is sitting on the couch as I tried to do this. Weed is falling off the thing and landing all over the couch. Inside my backpack is this book that I was supposed to read, and two more big bags of weed. As I try to push the weed diorama into the backpack, I'm tearing open the bags of weed that are already in there. Mike's eyes lit up when he saw the weed spilling all over the couch, and we both started to be concerned that someone else might see it. He swept up a bunch of weed into a pile for me and I said, "You want it? Just keep it, I got so much goddamn weed." Altogether, I would say I was carrying about three pounds of weed.

            Then a woman approaches. It's a teacher, but not one that I recognize from any school I ever attended. In fact, I think it's the girl from the BMO Harris commercial. I have been seeing that commercial a lot lately.

            Mike and I are scrambling to clean up the mess. The teacher approaches and just stares at the weed laying on the couch even though we were trying to hide it. I remember consciously turning my weed diorama away from her so she couldn't see it. She never said anything, but the look on her face told us that she knew what was going on, and she wasn't happy about it. I quickly gathered my things together and said something to the effect of, "Well, I'm late for class. Gotta run. See you later Mike." Then we both took off in opposite directions. I started walking quickly toward the front doors of the school, looking over my shoulder occasionally only to find that the teacher was in pursuit of me. Not running, just walking, but always following. At this point, I'm thinking, I'm not going to class. I'm gonna get the fuck out of here, and I left the building. Once outside, I started running down the sidewalk. I didn't know where I was going. I was just running to get away. The teacher follows me out of the building and starts chasing me down the sidewalk. This time she is issuing verbal commands. "Hey! Wait! Get back here!" and she's running. I'm still able to somehow run faster though, despite the fact that I'm carrying all kinds of shit, and I presumably end up getting away, because this is where the dream ends. Me being chased, but outrunning her. I never did read the book, and I never did make it to class to give a report on it. I also never got busted for having a shitload of weed on me.

[skanecanyon]

Make Survival Preparation Great Again

Making Survival Preparation Great Again: The Survival Of The Human Species

            We are living in a time when any number of catastrophic events could affect large portions of the population. Some of these catastrophic events will be natural and some will be of our own making. Human activity as it stands is unsustainable and like it or not, it is changing the climate and the environment. It would behoove us as a nation, as a species, to come up with some sort of contingency plan for such catastrophic events. As it stands though, we are terminally distracted with our own vices. Far more interested in consumption, reproduction and short-term benefits. I tend to agree with astrophysicist, Brian Cox's explanation as to why we haven't made contact with another alien species yet. Maybe the same thing happened to them as what is happening to us. They pursued short-term benefits in exchange for long-term sustainability and thus burned themselves out before they could become capable of inner galactic travel. Maybe this is the path that all "intelligent" life takes, wherever it evolves in the universe. One would think that long-term survival of the human species would be a common interest among all of us, but it's not. I would like to see this attitude change, and so I propose to you the Make Survival Preparation Great Again campaign. A new hope for the survival and advancement of the human species.

 Post Apocalypse

           In the event of a major event, such as a Yellowstone eruption, the United States would essentially be destroyed. According to geological evidence from the last several eruptions, Minnesota, where I live, could be covered with anywhere from .4 to 1.1 inches of ash for a month long eruption. We would survive the immediate eruption, but life would not be pretty afterwards. Millions of people that live in Zone One, which is the area closest to the blast will die instantly. Ash would cover the entire United States and the world could potentially be thrust into a nuclear Winter scenario. Acid rain, ash, contaminated surface water, lack of sunlight, and freezing temperatures would kill crops and livestock around the world. There would be mass panic and migration in the aftermath. There would be extreme rationing of goods, and ultimately, people in the U.S. who wished to survive would have to migrate, most likely to Mexico and South America, possibly Canada. This is one possible scenario, and it's not that it might happen, it is that it's going to happen. It has happened regularly in the past and will continue to happen in the future, and when it does, the effects will be devastating. Yellowstone is not the only super volcano in the world, nor are super volcanoes the only possible global catastrophe. There could be another asteroid impact. We could experience another Ice Age. It might be something of our own doing. Global warming could increase storm activity; cause sea levels to rise, wiping out coastal cities, or kill off pollinators and make agriculture a lot more difficult. Overpopulation could cause widespread disease and pandemics. So you see, there are any number of catastrophic events that definitely will happen at some point, and we will not be ready for it. Not as things currently stand.

 Food Production Centers (FPCs)

            The main idea behind the Make Survival Preparation Great Again Campaign (MSPGAC) is the construction of several hundreds, possibly thousands of Food Production Centers (FPCs) across parts of the nation. These centers will be designed such that they can be totally sealed against the elements in a moments notice. They would be climatically controlled, filtered, and self- sustaining if need be. They essentially would be agricultural centers that could be turned into self-sustaining bio domes in a moments notice. The exact size and design of these FPCs could be debated, but the immediate idea that comes to mind for me is essentially a giant cement bunker, approximately one acre in size (about the same size as a football field), that is mostly underground and divided into two main sections, the agricultural section, where various crops could be grown, and the food production section, where those raw agricultural goods get turned into food stuff with long lasting shelf life. Meals Ready to Eat (MREs) if you will. I personally envision some kind of Soylent Green type of product, but made from peas instead of people. The nature and variety of these MREs are also debatable, but I envision a lot of granola bar type products. Maybe some canned goods. Maybe some dehydrated stuff. In the case of a near extinction level event, many species are going to die. Pollinators would become extinct as well. So you'd have a really tough time farming in a post apocalyptic world. Some of these FPCs could potentially be used to raise chickens, but large animal livestock is probably not feasible. The shit produced by the chickens could be used to fertilize the agricultural plots. Even so, items like meat and eggs would be extreme luxuries in a post apocalyptic world. Most people would be eating Soylent Green products. As for pollination in a post apocalyptic world, either natural pollinators would have to be kept alive indoors for several decades, or crops would have to be pollinated by hand, a job that could prove to be quite labor intensive and time consuming. This consideration would undoubtedly factor into choosing the types of crops that are to be grown. Regardless of what crops are chosen, these FPCs could also serve as seed banks, storing seeds from before the apocalypse, so that they can be reintroduced into nature at some future point. 

             Once on-line, these FPCs can immediately go to work producing quantities of MREs that can then be transported to various Emergency Distribution Centers across the nation, where they should be able to be stored and protected from degradation until their time of need. Distribution of packaged goods and/or raw materials could be done by conventional means for now, but in the case of a major catastrophe such as a Yellowstone eruption, ash, fallout and dust could end up fouling up combustion engines, so inevitably, all transportation should probably be electric. We could build a few of these FPCs each year until several hundreds or thousands of them exist across the nation, and a massive stockpile of MREs has been achieved, capable of sustaining a large population for decades. See artist's crude rendering below. 

            The only part of the FPC that would be above ground would be a giant, retractable, high-strength, glass roof, which sits on rollers, and is capable of sealing itself to the agricultural side of the building. When there isn't an emergency, the building can sit with the roof open to allow for natural rain and pollination. When there is an emergency, the glass roof can be closed and seal the structure against the elements. The roof would be made of high strength glass and would have a low profile to help it withstand high winds and debris. Any air entering the building through the ventilation could be filtered. Interior fans could keep air circulating.    

Location

           The location of these FPCs would have to be strategically planned. Access to water, and potentially lots of it, would have to be a consideration. In non-emergency times, any and/or all sources of water could be used. After such a catastrophe, however, surface water would become contaminated and wouldn't be able to be used for crops or livestock, but it could probably still be used to generate energy. Clean water would most likely have to be able to be drawn from underground aquifers, otherwise it would have to somehow be filtered and purified.

           These FPCs would require energy, even in a post apocalyptic environment. They could initially be wired to the grid like anything else, but would also have to have a self-sustaining source of power. Wind power, hydroelectric, and battery back-up all come to mind, but nuclear should also be considered. As much as I hate the idea of proliferating nuclear power plants, I have to confess that small, individual nuclear reactors would be the best way to ensure consistent long-lasting power in a post apocalyptic world. They wouldn't have to be up and running all the time, but they must be available should the conditions call for it. I would think that each FPC would require a reactor similar to what powers a nuclear submarine or aircraft carrier, maybe even smaller. Solar power could be considered, but wouldn't do much good in a nuclear or volcanic Winter scenario. Sunlight could be blocked for month, years, or even decades depending on the catastrophe.  

Economic Impact

           We are also living in a time when good jobs are becoming scarce due to automation, down-sizing, and outsourcing. The construction and operation of these FPCs would provide employment for thousands of people across a wide spectrum of abilities. I know what you're thinking. This is going to cost a lot of money and how are we ever going to pay for it? Well, for starters, you continue to tax the most inelastic luxury goods (ie: cigarettes, video games, smart phones) At the same time, you legalize currently illegal goods like marijuana, prostitution and gambling and tax the piss out of them. In addition to this, you could consider fundraising, and taxing the wealthiest among us who own and operate the corporations that are responsible for encouraging our consumptive behaviors in the first place. Anyone who donated time and/or money to this cause would be viewed as one of the ultimate heroes of mankind. I don't think funding it would need to be difficult. The FPCs would be pretty basic structures. I certainly don't imagine that any of them would cost any more than the average skyscraper. If we can talk about funding a post war New Deal, or a several billion dollar wall along the Mexican border, or investing billions into more nuclear weapons, or colonizing Mars, then we can talk about building FPCs across America over the course of several years or decades.

           Survival of the human species should be a common goal among all people world-wide. This plan would cost a lot of money, that is true, but it would guarantee a lot of diverse jobs for a long time while at the same time ensuring our long-term survival. If you say to me, "This sounds too expensive. Can we actually afford to do something like this?" I ask you, "If we are to survive in the long-term, can we afford not to?" We are currently an exponentially growing, global population of consumers, intent on obtaining short-term benefits in exchange for long-term sustainability. Barring all other possible catastrophes, this, in and of itself, cannot go on forever. It is a bubble waiting to pop. You can argue that all empires crumble, but I think it is largely human behavior that determines when that happens. It's time we stopped living in the moment and started giving some thought to the future. This is our home. We're not going anywhere.

[skanecanyon]

The Great Escape From Lindsey Brown

As the dream opens I find myself waiting patiently to get inside some sort of kid's museum. I'm a full grown adult of course, and I have no kids of my own, but none-the-less, there I am, trying to get inside this museum. There are several other adults waiting in front of the building, as well as hundreds of kids, all running around unsupervised for the most part. The front doors of the museum are kid-sized, only about five feet tall. An adult would have to bend down to get through them. As I waited there patiently, several kids were being little pricks by blocking the entrance with their childish antics, pushing and shoving each other, screaming, having tantrums and whatnot. If their parents were around, they certainly weren't paying attention. Out of frustration, I ended up shoving one of the kids aside so that I could get into the building. A girl who was sitting nearby stood up and shouted, "Hey! I saw that! This guy just shoved one of the kids! I'm calling the cops!" I shot her a sideways glance as I ducked under the front door and entered the building, thinking 'Yeah...whatever...you go ahead and do that.' Then she followed me into the building, so as to not lose sight of me.

She was a very attractive girl. She looked just like our local KSTP news anchor, Lindsey Brown. That's probably where my brain got the image file from. I tried ditching her once we got inside, but she kept right on my tail. The inside of this place was more like a shopping center than a museum. At one point I ducked into a restaurant and sat at a table just inside the front door and around the corner, thinking that if she followed me in there, she would probably walk right past me and not notice. Not the case. She walked in the front door and immediately noticed me. So I invited her to sit down with me, and she did. She was going to sit there and make sure that I stayed put until the cops showed up. It was an Italian restaurant and there were only about five things on the menu. I ended up ordering the veal parmesan and a glass of wine. I was confident that if the cops showed up, they would find that I had done nothing wrong. I was convinced that she was wasting her time, as well as mine, but I offered to buy her a glass of wine anyway while we waited, to which she accepted. At this point, I'm thinking that maybe I can turn this around. Maybe I can get her to like me, instead of thinking of me as a total loser. Did I mention that she’s very attractive?

It wasn't long before tons of kids started pouring into the place, along with what appeared to be the rest of her family. Her mom, dad, and sister approached the table. She is surprised and happy to see them. They are celebrating some little kid's birthday party. I was not introduced in any way, and felt that my plans to woo her had little chance of success at this point. So as they all laughed, celebrated, and played with the kids, I took the opportunity to slip out the back door while nobody was looking. I figured it wouldn't be long before she noticed I was gone, and would no doubt come looking for me. I ran down to the corner and took a right, then another right at the next corner, then a quick left down an alleyway, where I managed to successfully lose her.

I walked to the end of the alley where I encountered a dead end. The alley turned into a rocky ridge made up of thousands of large boulders. The ridge line wound its way up to the top of a mountain made entirely of boulders. There were no trees or any other typical mountain features. Just a really large pile of millions of boulders. It had to have been man-made. Rather than turn back, I decided to start climbing. As I traversed the ridge line, I noticed several tomato plants growing out of discarded tin cans. Like someone planted seeds in old soup cans filled with dirt, and then once they germinated, brought them out onto the ridge and set them among the rocks for some reason. Some of the plants, although very small, had nice big green tomatoes on them. I continued climbing. Eventually I reached a point where the ascent was too steep and too perilous. I was very high up at this point, and I could see for miles. Nothing but mountains of boulders all around as far as the eye could see. So I decided to turn back.

I remember thinking about calling a cab, but I didn't have my phone or my wallet with me, and I wasn't exactly sure where I was. I walked back to the alleyway, but realized that if I went much further, I risked the chance of running into the girl who was pursuing me again. So I cut through someone's yard instead of going all the way back to the main street. The people who owned the property were nowhere to be seen, but they were clearly raising chickens. There were chickens everywhere, as well as eggs laying all over the ground. As I gingerly stepped over them, I noticed that some of them were hatching.  At one point I noticed a sign that read BEWARE OF CAT, then I noticed the cat. It seemed completely harmless. For some reason, I gathered that the cat was there to protect the chickens, but it didn't seem to be too alarmed by my presence at all. I think it looked at me and meowed, and then moved on.

At the far side of the yard I encountered a tall wooden fence. I couldn't see through it, but again, rather than turn back, I decided to climb over the fence. On the other side, I landed on what appeared to be a golf course. The place is absolutely packed with golfers, and they all seem to be completely disoriented, hitting the balls in all directions, not really aiming at anything. Some people are being hit with golf balls. I decided to cross the golf course anyway, ducking and dodging golf balls as I went. Some went whizzing right past my head. Nobody was showing any consideration for anyone else. As I came up over the top of a hill, the course opened up. There were much fewer people playing on this side, but the way that they were playing was peculiar. Instead of using golf clubs and golf balls, they were using baseball bats and baseballs, but they were still essentially playing golf. There were also a bunch of what looked like students all gathered around a low-lying wetland. For some reason I thought they must be ecology students or something. Some of them were taking notes.

I made my way across the course where I encountered yet another fence. This one was a chain link fence. It was tall, but I was able to climb over it fairly easily. I also broke it in the process. I had no idea where I was, but when I was at the top of the fence, I could make out the tops of the buildings in downtown Minneapolis, and I could see where planes were landing at the airport. In fact, while I was up there, I noticed an Air National Guard C-130 Hercules performing an extreme maneuver, wherein, it essentially did a reverse Immelmann directly over the runway. I couldn't see if it landed successfully, but I don't think it crashed, because I didn't see any smoke. I digress. At this point I realize that I'm nowhere near home and I still have a long way to go. I figure that if I can make it to downtown Minneapolis, then I've got a chance. At least I'll know where I am. So I set off in the direction that I think I need to go, but it always turns out to be the wrong direction, and I end up getting more lost. This is pretty much where this dream ends. Like so many of my other dreams, I'm wandering through an unknown area, looking for home, and never getting there. This has to mean something. There's a metaphor for life in this. In some ways it's sad I suppose, but then how often do you get the chance to have dinner with Lindsey Brown? So it's not all bad.

[skanecanyon]

The Fist of God

I had another noteworthy dream last night that I thought I would quickly jot down. As I've said before, much of what happens in my dreams I can usually attribute to something that I have recently seen in real life. There is a lot about this dream that I can't explain however. As with most of my dreams, it's kind of like several little dreams strung together. Sometimes they flow logically, other times they don't. I'm going to call this a single dream, even though there are several gaps in-between the individual "scenes" if you will.

As the dream begins, I find myself alone, sitting on a couch in someone's basement, watching a new Battlestar Galactica film on like an iPad or something. It's really cool because it features modern day graphics, but all of the original cast members (ie. Dirk Benedict as Starbuck, Richard Hatch as Apollo...etc.) In one scene, Starbuck and Apollo are flying around in an asteroid field, looking for a device of some kind. In another scene, the Galactica lands in a large parking lot on what appears to be present day Earth. It had gigantic tank tread-like landing gear, and I remember thinking, holy fuck, I didn't know the Galactica could land!

I'm also doing one-hits at the time. I'm not sure whose basement I'm in. It's a lot like my grandma's old basement from years ago, but not quite the same. Just then, my dad starts to come down the stairs, right after I had taken a big hit of weed. I blow the hit into a pillow on the couch, and then quickly shove all my pot smoking paraphernalia down into the couch cushions to hide it from my dad. I don't remember what he came downstairs for, but he was oblivious to the fact that I had been smoking pot down there. Whew....

Next thing I know I'm telling him that I'm going to go upstairs and "take a dip." The main floor is completely foreign to me. It's not even a house. It's more like an old general store, except for, where the floor should be, there are several lanes of shallow saltwater pools. They are laid out like bowling lanes, only each one has a sandy bottom; is filled with about a foot of saltwater and is teeming with life (ie. sea urchins, clams, small fish...etc.). I'm wearing a bathing suit at this point, and I laid down on my back in one of the pools only to find that I could float. These pools are supposed to be therapeutic or something. I actually ended up falling asleep in my dream while I lay there. When I woke up, my body was covered with algae wherever the waterline touched me. It was caked on and I had to scrape it all off with my fingernails. I also remember standing up in the pool and noticing all the sea urchins and shit crawling around on the bottom.

What happens next is the granddaddy of all apocalyptic visions. I suddenly find myself in the garage with a very attractive blond-haired girl. I'm not sure who she is. This actually is my garage in real life. It all looks familiar. The garage door is wide open, but instead of overlooking the alley, it overlooks a fairly large lake. There are boats out on the lake. It is starting to storm. On the wall of the garage there is a calendar. It has a bunch of Top 10 lists on it. As I watch the storm grow in intensity, the blond girl goes over to the calendar and starts to quiz me about some of the Top 10 content. She asks me to name the top 10 three-breasted women from movies and television. I could only think of one, and that was the girl from Total Recall. She laughed and then started to talk about how having three breasts would really suck. I agreed. I told her that I thought three breasts would be kind of freaky. She was wearing a tight fitting t-shirt with a logo of some kind on the front that accentuated her own breasts. Hey...listen, I have no control over my dreams. I'm just being as honest as I can be.

As we stand there, the storm outside grows to a ferocious intensity. Massive thunder and lightning. Periodically there are these macro downbursts over the lake that set fire to anything they touch, even the water. Fire from the sky. We would hear several loud cracks of thunder and then look out the garage door to see a pillar of clouds quickly descend from the sky, smashing into the lake below and setting fire to the boats. These downbursts were like nothing that exists in the natural world. They weren't like tornadoes. They were like the fists of God, and they were growing in intensity. At one point, a downburst happened that was so large, that it set fire to the whole lake. Meanwhile it was raining, and the wind was blowing everywhere else. We decided it would be best to head back to the house. As we left the garage and were running back to the house, I looked up into the sky and I saw a DC-10 (a passenger aircraft that they retired years ago) struggling to stay aloft. It was being tossed around like a rag doll. You could hear its engines straining as it tried to gain altitude. I remember thinking that they really shouldn't be trying to fly in this shit.      

Once we got back to the house, which once again, was not my house in real life, I noticed that the blond-haired girl that I had just been with was now gone. It was more of a cabin than it was a house. It could have been my grandpa's old cabin. My dad was there again, and I remember asking him where Frick was. Frick (short for Frisky) was my old dog that I had as a child. He died back in the mid 80s. My dad told me that he put Frick out in the shed in the back yard. Then my brother and I ran out into the backyard to get him. My brother also died several years ago, but he's alive again in this dream. The storm appears to be over now. There is, in fact, no shed in the backyard. There never was a shed in the backyard. Instead there was a lilac bush. As I ran towards it, I noticed a cardinal sitting on the phone wire that runs from the telephone pole in the alley to the house. For some reason, I felt like the thing was going to shit on me, so I was careful not to run directly underneath of it.

As my brother and I arrived at the lilac bush, there was Frick, sitting in the middle of it, frightened and shaking. I was so glad to see him. It's not like he was locked in there. He could have fled on his own recognizance, but he didn't. My brother grabbed him and we started to head back to the house. I remember I got pissed at him for holding him wrong, so I took the dog away from him and showed him the right way to carry him.

Once we were back inside the house, which was still a cabin, my brother disappeared. Now I find myself surrounded by a bunch of old people. We're sitting in chairs around the television. Frick is still with me. I don't recognize any of these old people, but at one point, the guy to my left hands me a tiny little guitar pick. I remember thinking what the hell is this for, a mandolin or something. The rest of the old people are looking at me with stupid grins on their faces. They seem to be greatly amused at my puzzlement. I never did find out what it was for. Nobody was playing a mandolin, or guitar, or anything of the like, and this is where my dream ends. It's all I can remember anyway. Crazy shit, right? Some might call this a nightmare, but I'm not going to go there. I was generally frightened during the raging storm on the lake part, but other than that, it was just trippy.

[skanecanyon]

The Meteorite Impact That Triggered A Volcano

So I had another incredibly vivid dream last night that merits being recorded in my dream journal. As the dream begins, I find myself with an old friend hanging out on a street corner in a rather run down neighborhood. We are sitting in the back of a pickup truck waiting for someone to arrive. As we wait, he is showing me how bad his feet are burned (presumably sunburned). As it so happens, I have a bottle of some sunburn lotion on me that I lend to him. He squirts a whole shitload of it all over his feet, and this apparently provides instant relief for him. 

Soon thereafter, the person we are waiting for shows up. It is a girl that I went to high school with, who I never really liked in real life. She was a total cheerleader who only hung out with the most popular people. She was basically the exact opposite of me, and I don't think she ever acknowledged me in any way whatsoever when we were in school. I actually went to grade school, junior high, and high school with this girl, and I always got the impression that she thought she was better than everyone else. She was indeed very good looking though, and I was not. Anyway, I digress. I have no idea why I'm dreaming about her. My friend who is there had never actually met her before in real life. So the three of us hanging out is a pretty absurd idea. 

When she arrives, she climbs into the back of the pickup truck with my friend while I drive. We're going to play golf I guess. I remember being on the golf course, which was way too small and crowded. The fairways were way too close together; there were way too many people there, and golf balls were flying everywhere. I was constantly on the lookout for flying golf balls and came close to being hit with them a couple of times. I was playing golf as well, but my friend was bowling for some reason. He had a bowling ball and was throwing it down the fairways. He was also not a very good aim. He was losing control of the ball and getting frustrated. The cheerleader was there too, but I don't remember her doing anything. She was basically just following us around. 

Next thing I know, I'm at a park. My friend and the cheerleader are gone. There are several people at the park, and we're all hanging out underneath a picnic pavilion. At one point, this kid, who, to the best of my knowledge, I have never met before, calls a few of us up to a picnic table located atop a nearby hill that overlooks a lake. He tells us that his parents own this property and then he starts giving us a detailed history of the land. He describes what it was like millions of years ago, telling us about what kind of dinosaurs used to inhabit the area. Everyone is fascinated by his story. 

Just then, a small meteorite impacted the ground near the pavilion at the bottom of the hill, leaving a small, smoldering crater. We were completely awestruck. The kid who was telling us about the dinosaurs quickly gets up and says, "C'mon, let's go check it out!" Then we all take off racing down the hill toward the impact crater. The dinosaur kid was in the lead, and I was running towards the rear of the pack. 

As we approached the crater, it started spewing up smoke and molten material. Burning slag was being belched high into the air. It looked like a thermite reaction, only much larger. As we got closer, the explosions became more severe. Soon it was spewing lava high into the air and burning pieces of rock and debris were raining down upon us. I stopped in my tracks, but many of the other people, including the dinosaur kid, continued running toward the spewing crater. Then the thing went full Krakatoa, thrusting plumes of lava high into the air. I turned around and ran away from it as fast as I could. I knew that many of the other people had already died. It was growing in ferocity as I ran. Hot slag was raining down on me and burning my back, and I was sure that I was going to die, but I kept running. 

I ran out onto a nearby highway and finally realized that I was far enough away to where It couldn't kill me. I watched it blow from a safe distance, knowing that many of the people I was with had died. I walked to another nearby hill in a different part of the park where many other people had congregated to watch the phenomenon from a safe distance. As we stood there watching, the thing eventually fizzled out, and all that was left was a smoldering crater. Everyone was left thinking "What the fuck was that?!" The other people who were there were concerned about me, because my shirt was all full of burn holes and I was covered in ash from the fallout. I felt lucky to be alive. 

And that's pretty much all I remember. Normally, I would tell you that I don't ever have nightmares, but I think this one might qualify. I would also tell you that, most of the time, I can attribute the things in my dreams to things I have recently experienced in real life. I have no explanation for this one. I haven't thought about the Cheerleader for decades. I haven't seen any movies or documentaries on meteorites or volcanoes. I just don't know how my brain came up with this one. I'm glad it did though, because in retrospect, it was pretty cool. 

[skanecanyon]

Politicians, Celebrities, And People From My Past

Truth be told, I have had several dreams since last May. I just haven't been as diligent as I should be at writing them down in my dream journal. Just too busy I guess. I'm choosing to document this one, however, as it involves some people from my past who I haven't thought about for a long time, and it is perplexing to me why they should suddenly all show up in the same dream. Normally I can attribute my dreams to something that I just experienced in real life, and there are certainly parts of this dream for which that is true, but the rest of it is completely random and I don't have a good explanation for it. 

The dream starts out with me getting a ride downtown (St. Paul) from Senator Al Franken (D-MN). He drove an Audi Quattro. At one point, he pulls up in front of a government building and parks the car right in front of the entrance. He tells me he just has to run inside for a second and grab something, and that he'll be right back. I waited in the car. While he was gone, I couldn't help but notice how messy the inside of the car was. The floor was covered in trash, the upholstery was torn, and I thought to myself that this wasn't what I expected the inside of a U.S. Senator's car to look like. After a while, he comes back out, and proceeds to give me a ride to the St. Paul Hotel in the heart of downtown St. Paul, where I actually used to work back in late eighties-early nineties.

There I was met by a girl who I used to date 25 years ago, who also worked at the hotel, and who, in my dream, apparently still was. She had called me there to fix an electrical problem, as I actually did work as an electrician in the mid-nineties, while we were dating. There was a bad switch in one of the hotel's conference rooms that needed to be fixed. Next thing I know, I'm reaming out a piece of 1/2" EMT and attaching a box connector to the end. Why I'm doing this, or where the materials came from, I don't know. It is absolutely unnecessary to do this in order to replace a switch. Try and tell that to my brain though. 

The the two of us exit the parking ramp and walk around to an entrance on the South side of the building, one that isn't there in real life. She takes my hand and we start to walk. Even though I really liked this girl in real life, in my dream, as I held her hand, I gently patted her grasping hand with my other free hand, and then let go of her hand all together. I remember thinking, "Don't do this. Don't fall for this again. It's only going to lead to to heartache." 

We walked around to the fictional South entrance and entered the building. Sure enough, we were inside the hotel, just as I remembered it. There was a flight of stairs covered in red carpeting that led to the conference rooms. She said that the bad switch was the one that was covered in tape. As I approached the conference rooms, I see that all of the switches are covered in tape. Not only that, but there are switches in strange places. Some are to the right or left of the door, as you would expect them to be, but others were mounted above the doors, seven feet off the ground. All were covered in tape. I remember thinking that this was highly unusual, but I don't remember actually fixing any of them. 

Next thing I know, the two of us are walking across a large grassy courtyard area, where Rice Park should normally be. It's more like the courtyard in front of the State Capitol building, but it's across the street from the hotel instead. As we walk, I hear my name called out. I look over to see a friend of mine who I used to work with at Builder's Square. He was kind of a strange fellow, but a friendly one. We exchanged pleasantries, caught up on old times, and before I knew it, I was continuing on my way across this field with my ex-girlfriend. 

Soon a man approaches from behind her as we walk. Somehow, although she doesn't see him, she senses that he is about to do something bad, and somehow, although I have no idea what she senses, I know what to do. Then she says to me, "Now!" I instinctively thrust my right leg between her legs as she walks. This blocks the kick that said attacker was going to try to land from behind her. It was Vladimir Putin. He was creeping up on her to kick her between the legs from behind. My foot made contact with his shin, thus thwarting the attack. He then tried to get bad with me, asking me if I thought I was a big man. All the while, he never stopped walking. I walked along side him shoulder to shoulder, explaining that I didn't think I was bad. I just didn't want him to kick her. I was taller than he was, but I was somewhat afraid, because even in my dream, I knew he was a black belt, and I thought for sure that I was going to have to fight him. He never stopped walking and soon we came to a busy street. He crossed the street, mumbling veiled threats over his shoulder as he went. My ex and I turned around and started to walk back the direction from which we came. 

There was a line of tour buses parked alongside the street. At one point, I thought I saw another old friend of mine, who also used to work at the St. Paul Hotel, as well as, Builder's Square. We were very good friends, but he inevitably moved out to the West coast with his girl friend and we kind of fell out of contact with each other. He disappeared behind one of the buses. I followed him to try and get a better view, but I was disappointed to see it was just someone who looked like him.

From this point on, my ex is gone. I don't know where she went, but she's not in the dream anymore. Furthermore, I don't seem to be at all worried about this disappearance. I start walking in the direction of what appears to be another government building. Now it really is like I'm somewhere near the Capitol courtyard. Large marble buildings everywhere. As I walk, I see my brother ahead in the distance. I call his name and he stops. I run to catch up with him and he tells me that he's on his lunch break, and do I want to go with? He's going to grab a bite at "the Hawaiian place." It is true that I do have a brother who works downtown, and that he frequently goes out to eat, but I know of no "Hawaiian place" in downtown St. Paul, or even Minnesota in general for that matter. 

I have no explanation for anything that has happened in this dream so far. It's not like I've been thinking about these people or these places in real time. What happens next though, undoubtedly comes from the fact that I've been watching Arrested Development Season 4 on DVD. Michael Bluth (Jason Bateman) pulls up in the stair car from the show. He's lost and wants to know if I can give him directions. I hop in the stair car on the passenger side, and we continue onto a freeway on-ramp. Soon a car pulls in front of us and stops. Michael says, "Hang on. It's probably just someone looking for an autograph." He gets out of the stair car and confronts the driver of the other car. Sure enough, the person is looking for an autograph. As he is signing his name he looks back at me with a slightly worried look on his face. I interpret this to mean that we need to get out of there. I slide over into the driver's seat and pull the stair car alongside the other vehicle. Michael hops in on the passenger side and we speed off onto the freeway.

I don't know where we are going, but the dream ends with the two of us driving around narrow, winding residential streets that are really too small for the size of the vehicle. I did see a street sign that read Burke Street, which is an actual street in St. Paul, and I thought, okay, now I know where we are, but in truth, the neighborhood seemed completely unfamiliar to me.

And that's about all I remember. I think I woke up shortly thereafter. Crazy shit, man.  

[skanecanyon]

An Anthropological Study of Country Folk

I decided to start keeping a dream journal again, because I've been having some crazy dreams lately. When you write your dreams down, you are much more likely to remember them in the long run. I'm going to post them online for any novice psychoanalysts that might be out there. So don't be surprised if you find a story that does not include cannibalism and fine wine. I don't know what these dreams mean, and I don't care. I just know that they are better than television. Actually, most of the stuff I dream about, I can attribute to something I recently saw in real life. I got no explanation for this one though.

An Anthropological Study of Country Folk

The dream starts out with my arrival at a farm house in the middle of nowhere. I don't know exactly who I'm supposed to be working for, but I'm being dropped off at this particular family's humble abode because they volunteered to let me stay with them for a while and do an anthropological study on the lives of simple country folk. I arrive at a bad time however, because there seems to be some sort of major dispute between one of the family members and the rest of them. I don't know what the one guy did, but whatever it was, it was very bad. The father of the family, and a few of the elder kin were arguing with this person as I was attempting to introduce myself. Soon, the father handed a shotgun to the perpetrator and told him to leave. I believe his words were something to the effect of, "Well, you know what has to be done. We're going to have to hunt you down. Now go on and get out of here." He spoke as though he didn't want to do it, but it was something that had to be done. Giving him a gun, and a head start was their way of giving him a fair chance, I guess. The ostracized one left, and soon after, the rest of the males in the family mounted their horses and trucks and took off after him with guns in hand. Some of the women ran to the windows to watch. I stepped outside to watch them take off and disappear over the hills in the distance. Although we couldn't see them, we could hear the sounds of gunshots and shouting in the distance. After a while, the hunt party returned, minus one person. Everyone had solemn looks on their faces. As they entered the house, I asked the father, "Did you get him?" He solemnly nodded his head. Then I noticed that one of them was missing. I asked him, "Did he get one of you?" Again he solemnly nodded. Then, for whatever reason I asked, "Was it Danny?" Again the father solemnly nodded, trying to choke back tears. I then either said aloud, or thought to myself, "He was the youngest one," and I remember thinking that he didn't deserve to die.

Next thing I know, it's dinner time, and the mother is telling me that they had a special treat planned. We were all going to go out to dinner at restaurant that was owned by someone they knew. It was located in the local mall. There are probably about 15 of us all together, so we had to leave in a truck convoy. One of the elder brothers gave me the keys to his truck and told me to follow them. Everyone was driving really big pickup trucks, farm trucks. I remember being kind of nervous because I didn't want to fuck this guy's truck up. I drove, and a younger girl rode with me. They way to the mall was totally off road. We were just motoring across fields and hills, and bouncing all over the place. At one point, I swung too close to a pond and the truck started to slide down an embankment toward the water. I cranked the wheel and gave it some gas. The back end swung around and I motored that thing back up onto the high ground. I was worried that the owner of the truck may have seen me do that, but he didn't. The girl I was with seemed unfazed.

Soon we arrived at an old abandoned mall in the middle of nowhere. There were no shops, except for this one particular restaurant, which was like a little mom and pop diner. The parking lot was empty. Weeds grew up through the cracks. Tumbleweeds were blowing around. All of the shops that were once there were all boarded up. We walk into the restaurant and there's nobody else there, save for the owners, an elderly couple who were friends of the family I was with. Many of the kids immediately seated themselves at a couple of round tables and conversed among themselves. I was introduced to the owners who were very glad to see us. I don't remember ordering anything, or ever sitting down at a table. Instead, after greeting the owners, three of the adult males and myself went outside in front of the restaurant so that they could have a smoke. I wasn't smoking. There was a bench outside that two of the guys sat on, while another stood next to them. I was standing just outside the door. Then, in just a matter of minutes, this crazy-ass hayseed shows up, flying a helicopter over the parking lot in front of the restaurant. The helicopter is unlike one that I have ever seen before. There is no tail rotor, and there are these crazy equipment pods that protrude from the body, where the landing struts normally are. It's a small, one man helicopter, and I can see through the cockpit canopy that the pilot is just this dirty farm guy wearing a flannel shirt and bib-style, jean overalls. He's got a big smile on his face and he's doing all kinds of crazy tricks like loops, sideways sweeps, tight circles, and he's coming dangerously close to the ground at times. The guys that I'm hanging out with all seem to know him, and they're all pointing and laughing at him. At one point, the guy gets too cocky. He crashes the thing on its belly in the parking lot, and it then skids into the front of the restaurant, narrowly missing the dudes on the bench. He gets out, and everyone is fine. They're all laughing. There is considerable damage to the outside of the restaurant.

Next thing I know, we're leaving the restaurant. I was instructed to take the same truck that I was driving before, and follow them back to the farmstead. As we were pulling out of the parking lot, the little girl that was riding with me pointed out the window and said, "look!" I looked up, and there, swooping low above the horizon in front of us, was some kind of crazy futuristic airplane. It was large and angular. Larger than a 747, but stealth looking. It kind of looked like a really big version of the plane from the movie Firefox, a terrible movie starring Clint Eastwood. As it made a wide arc above the trees, another plane, very much like the space shuttle, swooped in from above and landed on the back of the first plane. Then the two disappeared beyond the trees. I looked down the street to the right, and I could see the tops of what looked like giant fuel storage tanks, and antenna masts and shit. Then the little girl tells me that there is a government test facility down there.

I pulled out of the parking lot to the left, but realized that the others had gotten too far ahead of me while we were watching the crazy space plane. I had no idea which way to go, and the little girl didn't seem to know either. I found myself driving through winding suburban streets, lined with big mansions and well-kept yards. Privileged little, well-dressed, upper-class kids were all out in their yards playing with fireworks. They were way too young to be playing with fireworks unsupervised, I thought. There were no adults around. I drove around trying to find someone I could ask for directions back to the farm house, but I couldn't find anyone. I was just totally guessing at where to turn, but everywhere I went, it was just more winding suburban streets, expensive mansions, and privileged little white kids playing with fireworks. 

And that's about it. I wish I could tell you more, but I don't remember ever getting back to the farmhouse. Cursed to drive around the suburbs in a big, dirty Ford F250 for eternity, I guess. 

[skanecanyon]

A Very Kerbin Christmas

Drumright, Oklahoma is a small town just outside of Cushing, which is in and of itself a small town. It's a rural farming community that is inhabited by a handful of God-fearing residents who all know each other by name, including our lead protagonist, Nils Peterson, who runs a family farm on the outskirts of town. Life in Drumright has generally been good for the Peterson family over the years, but has recently taken a radical turn for the worse due to a devastating drought that has plagued the region. To compound matters, years of industrial agriculture has taken its toll on the land. The Petersons find themselves struggling to survive with nothing to eat except potatoes and the occasional small game. The uncertainty of the future has left the family insecure and worrisome.

As we begin our story, we find the farmer in his fields, hoping to find some potatoes for dinner. The heat of the mid-day sun, combined with his growing hunger pangs, has left him confused and irritable. While trudging through the dry fields, kicking up dust with every footstep, he stumbles upon a curious sight. There, on the ground in front of him, a scorch mark surrounded by four almost perfectly circular impressions in the dirt. As he surveyed the sight, trying to make sense of it all, a piece of paper tumbled along the ground, propelled by the hot, dry wind, and came to a stop against the side of his boot. He bent over and picked it up, only to discover that it was some sort of star chart with a picture of a rocket ship in the corner. His heat-fueled confusion led him to the only logical conclusion.

Star chart in hand, the farmer furiously stormed back to the house. Upon arrival, he bursts in through the kitchen door, to find his wife, Helena, desperately trying to calm their youngest child, who was only six months old, and very hungry. "Malachi, Ezra, Christian, Jebediah, Peter, Paul, Mary, Ezekiel, Job, Matthew, Mark, Luke, John... y'all get yourselves to the kitchen right NOW!" yelled the farmer to his children in a very angry tone. Immediately, the children came running into the room from all directions. "What is it father?" asked Malachi. "Which one of y'all wants to tell me just what the hell this is all about?" demanded the farmer as he threw the star chart down on the table. The angry tone of his voice made his youngest child start to cry. "Nils Peterson!" exclaimed his wife, Helena, as she tended to the disturbed child, "Calm yourself, please. What is this all about?" she pleaded. "I was just down in the fields looking for some potatoes when I come across this astrology shit. It's sacrilege I tell you, and I wont have it in my house!" He then continued with his only logical deduction. "Four of these kids built a fire down in the fields, and sat around it reading this star sign shit, trying to predict the future. Probably been eatin the potatoes too. Well you listen to me good! Only God knows the future!" As he scanned the row of nervous faces, his gaze stopped on his median, but by no means average son, Jebediah. "Jebediah, what do you know about this? You're always reading them space stories, and more than once I seen you laying on your back in the yard staring up into the night sky. You better not be practicing this devil worship astrology shit, boy howdy..." It was actually astronomy, and not astrology that interested Jebediah, but the farmer never was able to understand the difference. "If the good Lord meant for you to lay around and stare at the stars, he wouldn't have given you so much work to do." "But father," protested Jebediah, "I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't been down to the potato field. None of us have. We all went to bed exactly when you instructed us to, and we never left the house." "And now you're going to lie to your own father?!" barked the farmer. "I'm going to give you all ten seconds for someone to confess, or I have no choice but to punish you all." The children stood in nervous silence looking at each other for ten seconds. "Alright then, you know the routine," said the farmer, as he removed his belt. "Y'all pull your trousers down and line up against the wall." One by one, he went down the line giving each child a good thrashing with his leather belt, including the newborn. He wanted to send a message that would prevent any more misguided events in the future. As the children nursed their wounds and cried, the farmer added while putting his belt back on, "Let this be a lesson to you all. This house does not tolerate such sacrilege." He then crumpled up the star chart and threw it on the floor. After he stormed out of the room, Helena, herself in tears, tended to the children's wounds. Curiosity got the best of Jebediah, however, as he picked up the crumpled piece of paper from the floor and opened it up to look at it. As a novice astronomer, he could tell that it was definitely a map of the night sky, but not as it appears from Earth. He noticed the rocket ship symbol in the corner and figured that it had to be a page from a science fiction magazine, that the wind must have blown into their field. Silently he thought to himself, I wish aliens did come and take me away from all of this. Then he tossed the map into the trash and tended to his chores.  

The next morning the farmer struggled with a thought that had plagued him all night long. He had decided to kill and butcher one of the cows so that his family might have something to eat. They had been dependant on the cows for milk, but since the fields had gone dry, the emaciated cows, unable to graze, had stopped producing. It was a hard decision for Nils. He had raised them from the time that they were calves and had become quite attached to them. It would be like killing a pet, but hard times call for drastic measures. The man has a family to support. Upon arrival at the cow paddock, the farmer noticed that all the cows were laying on their sides. A closer examination revealed that they were all dead, and laying in pools of their own blood. An even closer examination showed that they had all had their anuses and rectums removed. Horrified, the farmer ran back to the house and burst in through the back door, bathed in sweat, and breathing heavily. "Kids! Get yourselves on down here!" he hollered. Again the children all came running. "What is it now father?" asked the eldest child. As the farmer threw open his gun cabinet, he exclaimed, "Gun up and get your asses out into the fields right now, we got wolves on the prowl! I was just down to the cow paddock. All the cows are dead, and they've all had their b-holes ate out." He reached in and pulled out gun after gun, handing them to the children, some of whom were too young to be handling guns. A crucifix hung just inside the gun closet door. "Make sure you have enough ammo with you," explained the father. "We're gonna spread out in all directions until we find and kill those goddamn wolves. With enough ammo, and the Lord's guidance, we shall succeed, but first, y'all bow your heads for a moment of prayer." As they all took a reverent knee, the father continued, "Dear Lord Jesus, bless these guns that they should fire reliably; bless this ammo that it should find its target; bless these children that their aim should be straight and true. Protect these guns oh Lord, and ensure their safe return. In Jesus name we pray. Amen." The children then responded with a unified "Amen." "Now get yourselves out into the fields and don't come back until you got some dead vermin with you."

Shotguns in their hands, the children fanned out in all directions. Jebediah headed south, towards the corn fields. The corn, now dry and withered, rustled in the hot breeze as he made his way across the field. He was exposed and vulnerable. Pine forests surrounded the fields, which meant that an attack could come from any direction. He swept his gaze slowly along the tree line as he moved, looking for tell tale signs of the wolves, his gun constantly aimed in the direction he was looking. As he cautiously approached the edge of the forest, he heard a peculiar noise. It was not a natural noise, definitely not a wolf. It was more of a mechanical whine, and it was getting louder. Before he even had a chance to deduce what the noise could be, a strange looking aircraft darted overhead just above the trees, splitting the sky in two with a thick, black contrail. It was like nothing that Jebediah had ever seen before, with forward swept canards, downward bent gull wings, and a variety of antennae and other strange devices protruding from the fuselage. Whatever it was, it appeared to be in trouble, and was going down, just to the south. No longer concerned about the wolves, Jebediah took off in the direction of the crash. This was the most exciting thing to ever happen in Drumright. He raced through the woods and across the fields until about three miles away, he encountered the craft on the ground. It had come in shallow and plowed a huge furrow in the dirt. Thick, black smoke still emanated from the rear of the craft, although there appeared to be no fire. He approached cautiously, gun in hand, until a sudden movement made him freeze in his tracks. The canopy of the vehicle suddenly opened, and a small man with a rather large head, fully clad in space gear, emerged from the craft. He appeared to be somewhat dazed, but otherwise uninjured. After a few moments of steadying himself against the side of the craft, he checked a small display on the sleeve of his suit. Satisfied by what he saw, he removed his helmet and revealed his large, green, block-like head. His eyes were large and white with small black pupils. His hair was black and neatly cropped near the surface. His mouth was wide and lipless. Then he looked up and saw Jebediah, jaw agape, staring at him and pointing a shotgun. A long awkward silence commenced as neither of them knew exactly what to do next.

Finally, the green-skinned alien reached into his space suit and pulled out a Kerbish-English, English-Kerbish Dictionary. After paging through it for a few moments, the strange being looked at Jebediah and said, "Kreetings, K'I kam Jebediah kof k'the k'planet Kerbin. Kar kyou ka krepresentative kof k'the khighest klevel k'being kof k'this kworld?"

            Author's note: It is true that Kerb dialect involves adding the letter k to the beginning of each word. This is due, in part, because of their rigid, lipless mouths, filled with large, white teeth that clack when they talk. For the sake of clarity, however, and perhaps to speed this story up, I will print all further Kerb speak in plain English. 

Puzzled, Jebediah, the boy responded, "Car Q the what?" The alien then picked up a stick and drew the words in the parched Earth. Jebediah watched him intently. Then after he understood the question he responded, "Highest level being? Well, I spose I am. We're the only ones that got shotguns, so we must be." The alien then drew his name in the dirt and pointed to himself. "Well I'll be damned," exclaimed the boy, "that's my name too!" and he lowered his weapon. "Welcome to Earth, Jebediah. Looks like you're having some trouble with your vehicle," said the boy as he pointed at the smoke still emanating from the rear of the craft. Jebediah, the Kerb, blushed, which on a Kerb, appears brown, because of their green skin, and replied, "Yes...the...um...there was a short circuit." The truth of the matter though was that Jebediah, the Kerb, was a risk-taker and frequently relied on instinct rather than meters and gauges when piloting a craft. He had actually entered the atmosphere at the wrong angle and the heat and friction of reentry sheered off both of the Icarus' jet engines. Now he was stranded on an alien world, and would have to radio for help, but first he would have to figure out where he was, precisely. The two Jebediahs sat next to the burning craft trying to figure out what to do next. Finally, Jebediah, the Kerb, picked up his stick and drew several concentric circles in the sand. Then at some point along each circle he placed a single rock, as well as a large rock in the very center. Next to the third rock from the center, he wrote the word Kerbin. Then he shrugged his shoulders while looking around the sky. The boy interpreted this to mean that he was lost, and didn't know which direction his home planet was. Then the boy remembered the star chart that his father found laying in the field. He picked up a stick of his own and drew the rocket ship symbol that he saw in the corner of the star chart. Recognizing the symbol, the Kerb's eyes widened in disbelief, even wider than normal, as Kerbs have unusually large eyes. He pointed at the symbol and nodded his head excitedly at the young boy as if to suggest that this is exactly what he needed to find his way home. "C'mon then," exclaimed the boy while making the universal follow me hand gesture, "I can take you to it," and the two headed off in the direction of the farm house. 

The boy was excited to show his family who he had discovered, but had failed to negotiate their reaction. The two Jebs entered the house through the back door, into the kitchen area. The rest of the family had already returned, unsuccessful at finding any wolves, and were assembled around the kitchen table. The strange appearance of Jebediah's new friend caused hysteria, fear, and disbelief in the rest of the family. Upon first glance, mother screamed, and dropped the baby she was nursing to the floor. Soon everyone was screaming, and cowering on the other side of the room. Some of the children had soiled themselves, others were praying. "J-J-J-Jebediah," stuttered the farmer nervously, "you step away from that abomination right now." "But father," replied the young boy, "he's my friend. Don't be afraid. His name is Jebediah too, and he's from a planet called Kerbin." The father, cowering in the corner began to recite Psalm 23. "He's friendly," added the boy, "He's not here to hurt anyone, he just wants to find his way home." "There ain't no other life in the universe boy!" shouted the father. "That thing is some kind of demon, trying to trick us all. You step away from it right now!" insisted the father, while slowly reaching for his shotgun. The young boy then boldly defied his father by stepping between him and his new alien friend and he said, "Now listen! I'm not playing around! He's not a demon or an abomination. He's an alien being from a planet called Kerbin, and he's simply trying to find his way home. His ship crash landed out in the south forty. I was there. I saw it with my own eyes." The father relaxed a bit and said in a skeptical tone, "Then y'all wont mind if we go take a look at it." "Sure we can go see it, but we're going to need that map that you found out in the potato field. I think it's our key to getting him home. I threw it in the trash can earlier." Just then the mother chimed in. "But...I took the trash out to the garbage pile already this morning," she admitted. "Then we need to go find it. Everyone follow me," said the boy while motioning with his hand, and the entire family, along with Jeb, the alien, made their way towards the garbage pile. 

The group walked in stunned silence. All eyes were on the Kerb. This made the alien feel a bit uncomfortable. Once again he fumbled for the Kerbish-English Dictionary in his suit. After studying it for a few minutes the alien spoke. "So, are you all a part of the same hive commune?" he asked, thinking that small talk might help to break the ice. The farmer followed after a brief consideration of the question, "Hive commune? We ain't no communists here, son. Why do you ask? You some kind of commie?" "We are a hive collective," responded the alien. 

            Author's note: Kerbs have enormous brains, and the uncanny ability to memorize and translate large bodies of text. By the time they reached the garbage pile, Jeb had already memorized the whole dictionary, and was able to fluently speak English, albeit with a k-sound preceding each word. We now return to our featured story. 

"What you mean, like a bee hive or somethin?" queried the father. Jeb referred to his dictionary for a moment and then responded, "Yes, very much like the life form you call bees." Jeb then asked, while pointing at the smaller children surrounding him, "I am curious, are these smaller ones drones?" "Drones!?" barked the farmer, "These ain't no drones! These are my kids, man, all thirteen of them, and that there is my wife." he said, pointing at her. "Ahh, I see," said Jeb, "So you are capable of pollinating the female multiple times in order to propagate exponentially." "I don't know what you are talking about, you strange sonofabich! Ain't nobody pollinating nothin. We're not animals, man!" demanded the father. "How is it that you produce so many offspring then?" asked the Kerb, not realizing the awkwardness of his question. "Well, each winter I engage in sexual coitus with my wife," responded the farmer. "Strictly church-sanctioned sexual coitus, for procreation only mind you. In the dark, under the sheets, missionary position only, with an ordained minister from the local church watching, and reading from the Bible, the way God intended it. We're not perverts. Then each following Fall my wife gives birth to another young one. That's the way it's been for the last thirteen years." As the Kerb listened, he made a few mental calculations, and determined that this society would eventually exceed the carrying capacity of the land, and burn itself out. He pointed this out to the farmer, but the farmer simply responded, "Son, the good Lord provides. He wants us to prosper as much as possible because He loves us so much, and sets us above all other living things, praise Jesus. As long as we worship the Lord and do as He commands, and believe me, I make sure of that, then we will always have plenty. Plus, if you ain't growing, you're dying, am I right?" Jeb mulled that over in his giant green head as he stared at the barren landscape, kicking up dust as he walked. Had these people fallen out of favor with their Overlord? Were they not worshiping hard enough, he wondered. Then his thoughts were interrupted. "Why, how many kids do y'all have?" asked the farmer. "I have produced one offspring, which has recently just morphed into its third instar stage, and begun training in our space program." "Er...morphed...instar?" puzzled the farmer, "I'm afraid I don't follow you." "Allow me to explain, if I can," said Jeb. "Every one of my species produces a single offspring once in their lifetime, usually during the Krebz ceremony. We each carry a single egg, and can self-fertilize it anytime we want between the ages of 10 and 200 years," (Kerbs are both male and female, but generally identify as male. It makes life much easier), "The Krebz ceremony occurs at the end of each lunar cycle," he added, "when the two moons orbiting my world are perfectly aligned. The newly hatched instar goes through a series of developmental phases, which takes about..." he briefly refers to his built in suit calculator, "...six months, by your calendar, after which, it is enrolled in the space program. Occasionally, an egg is expelled prematurely. When it hatches, the underdeveloped instar is rejected and never becomes a sentient being." "So y'all lay eggs like the chickens then?" queried the father. "Something like that," replied Jeb.

Before long, they had arrived at the garbage pile. It was massive and the stench was powerful. Flies busily probed the refuse while black liquid oozed from the trash bags at the bottom of the pile. Kerbs do not have a sense of smell. Rather, they taste the air with their giant pink tongues, like a snake, and Jeb did not like what he tasted. "What is in that pile that is producing such an awful taste!?" asked the Kerb while coughing and retching. "Well, let's see," replied the farmer, "you got the daily garbage, cow manure, a broken refrigerator or two, a couple of old cars, broken farm equipment, some motor oil, some old tires, a bunch of dead rats from the barn, lots of cans and plastic bottles, an old boat, some old furniture and clothing, a television, some old mattresses..." "I see, quite a lot then is what you're saying," interrupted the alien. "Yep, I reckon so," replied the farmer. "Your species has not engaged in recycling in any way?" asked Jeb. The farmer just laughed and said, "Son, out here we let God and nature do the recycling. Ain't nothin more natural than letting the wind and rain wash it away. Plus I send one of the kids out here a couple times a month to burn the pile." Just then, Jebediah, the boy, chimed in, "Okay, look...we've got to find that star chart so everybody start digging. We're looking for a blue piece of paper with white dots all over it, and a rocket ship symbol in the corner. Do you remember where you dumped it mom?" asked the boy. "I believe it was over here somewhere," she said while pointing at a particularly fresh area of the garbage heap. The group fanned out around the area and started digging through the disgusting pile. It wasn't long before the mother pulled out a crumpled and stained piece of paper. "Is this what you're looking for?" she asked. "That's it!" exclaimed the alien. "That's my ticket home! We need to get this to my ship so the computer can analyze it," he said. Then the mother handed him the star chart and the group continued to trudge south through the pine forests and dusty fields to where Jeb had crashed the Icarus.

Upon arrival at the crash site, Jeb the alien removed a small remote from his space suit and clicked a button on it, which opened the cockpit of the Icarus. Jebediah, the boy, followed closely, examining the star chart. He didn't recognize any constellations, but he did notice that one of the dots on the page was much brighter than the others. "May I have the chart please?" asked the alien. "Uh..yeah..sure," replied the boy, "say...what is this bright dot here in the center?" he asked while handing the paper to the other Jeb. "That is your Sun," replied the alien while pointing to the sky. "This chart is what the night sky looks like from my home planet. The bright dot represents my destination for this mission. Once I scan this chart into the ship's computer, it will reverse engineer the chart using our known distances and elevations of surrounding stars, to produce a picture of the night sky as it appears from Earth. It should also show the relative position of my home planet, Kerbin. Then I will know which direction to point the Communotron 88-88 in order to transmit a distress signal." He then took the paper and fed it into a narrow slot on the side of the ship's computer. As it calculated, it produced a soft humming sound and intensely green light, similar to a copy machine. A few seconds later, it ejected a new map from the slot. Jebediah, the alien removed it, looked at it, and then looked up into the sky. "Now we just need to wait until night fall, so I can make a stellar reference." "Can I see the chart?" asked the boy. Immediately he noticed many of the constellations from all of the astronomy magazines he had read over the years. There was the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper, Cassiopeia, the constellations of the Zodiac. As his eyes scanned the chart, he again noticed that one of the dots was much brighter than the others. "What does this dot represent?" he asked the alien. "That's my solar system," he replied, "the star Kerbol. My home planet is the third planet from that star." "Here on Earth we call that star Tau Ceti," remarked the boy. "Tau Ceti...I'll have to remember to that," responded the alien. He then reached into the cockpit of the Icarus and started flipping switches and pushing buttons. Soon a pod on the top of the craft opened up like a flower into a beautiful, gold colored, concave antenna. "Now we just have to wait for Tau Ceti to rise." added the alien, as he smiled at the boy. "How long do you think it will take for you to be rescued?" asked the boy. "Not long," responded the alien. "We've been monitoring your planet for quite some time. Hopefully there will be a ship that is already in this sector." "So it's true then," interrupted the farmer, "You've been abducting us and anal probing us for years? I don't mind telling you that this news is very disturbing. Why do y'all need to hurt us like that? We ain't never done nothing to you." "I assure you that what we do is tantamount to what you call a colonoscopy," replied the alien. "It is relatively painless, and purely for the sake of science and curiosity. You see, my species eliminates waste through our skin, which is then recycled by these suits that we wear. It is quite different from the way your species seems to do it. If it's any consolation, we haven't anally probed anyone for a long time, not since we visited a gentleman named Wernher von Braun several decades ago. The knowledge we obtained was disseminated many lunar cycles ago during the Krebz ceremony." "What the hell does that mean?" inquired the farmer. "It is a tradition among my species to share our individual knowledge with the collective during the Krebz ceremony." The alien then removed his glove to expose his hairy palm. "You see, at the end of each ceremony, each of my species links hands and forms a circle. These tiny hairs that you see in the palm of my hand are actually neural tendrils that link together with those of my hive collective. When we hold hands and form a circle, we become a single universal consciousness named Karl. At this moment, our individual knowledge is equalized among the collective. Then when we separate again, each of us knows exactly the same things as everyone else." The alien then paused, and let out a heavy sigh. "I'd like to make it back before the next ceremony. It's a very special time for us." "When is the next ceremony?" asked the boy. "The next ceremony is scheduled to occur on star date 8445.7, or let's see..." again Jeb paused as he punched some numbers into his suit calculator. "December 25th, by your solar calendar."  The farmer wrinkled his brow and said, "That's the birth of the Lord Jesus, not some kind of goddamn science festival!" "I'm sorry," replied the alien, "I didn't mean to offend your Overlord." "He's your Overlord too!" barked the farmer. "God created everything in the universe, including YOU, Greeny, whether you like it or not." The Kerb, sensing that this was an argument he wasn't going to win, decided to just drop the subject.

As night fell, the Communotron 88-88 sprang to life and rotated toward the horizon. A strange series of clicks and beeps could be heard emanating from the Icarus' cockpit. It was followed by the sound of someone speaking in Kerbish. Jeb's face lit up as he ran to the cockpit and keyed the transmitter. A brief conversation took place between the alien and whoever was on the other end. The family stood in curious silence, unable to understand what was being said. After a few minutes, Jeb returned the transmitter to the ship's console and turned to the waiting family. "Good news," he said. "The ship that accompanied me here is still in this quadrant. They were already on return to Kerbin, when they received the message to turn around and come get me. They can be here in 260 kerbles (about 12 hours). I've transmitted my coordinates, and they will be sending a rescue team for me." His message was met with mixed emotions. The father was glad to see him go. The mother feared the arrival of more aliens. Most of the children were fascinated at the prospect of meeting more of his kind. Jebediah, the boy, was sad that his new friend would soon be leaving them.

The next several hours were filled with discussions on religion, society, policies, habits, rituals. Jeb figured that he might as well use his remaining time on Earth to do a little anthropological study, carefully phrasing his questions, and recording all the answers on his suit's built-in digital recorder. Not without informed consent, of course, and strictly for the sake of science. The farmer did all of the answering, while the wife and children listened intently. After twelve hours of discussion, he was ready to see this alien go home. "And finally," asked the Kerb, "do you consider yourselves to be an average representation of your larger population?" "Well, I reckon so," replied the farmer. "We're all just simple God-fearing people, trying to make a living off the land." The farmer thought he meant the larger population of Drumright, OK, as he had never been anywhere else. Finally, the Communotron 88-88 fired up once again. Jeb ran to the cockpit and keyed the receiver. More nonsensical Kerbish could be heard coming from the ship's dashboard speakers. Jeb responded briefly, and then returned to the family. "They're on the way," he said, "The ship has arrived in orbit, and they are sending down a landing party to pick me up. I have given them my precise global coordinates." Soon, sonic booms could be heard over Oklahoma as a Keagle lander tore through the upper atmosphere, drogue shoots ablaze, struggling to slow the vehicle down. Midway through the descent, it fired the Rockomax main engine, which appeared as a bright star in the sky above the town of Drumright. Slowly it became bigger as it descended until the shape of a vehicle with four landing struts could be made out. As it touched down in the field nearby, it kicked up a massive cloud of dust and scorched the earth, leaving a radial burn mark on the ground, with four almost perfectly circular landing pads equidistantly spaced around it.  

As the dust settled, a ladder extended to the ground from the side of the Mk2 Lander-can, and a small hatch opened near the top of the vehicle. Moments later, two Kerbs, both identical to Jeb in every way, descended to the ground. Jebediah, the Kerb, ran over to greet them in the traditional Kerbin way of palm tasting. Upon meeting, each Kerb removes his right glove and holds his bare palm in front of the other Kerb's mouth, while the other Kerb tastes the unique chemical identifiers in the air surrounding it. This is how Kerbs greet and identify each other. After a brief, joyful exchange in Kerbish, the alien trio approached the family. "Peterson brood," announced Jeb, "I'd like you to meet two of my colleagues, Jorcal and Ferrod Kerman," he said while pointing to them respectively. The new aliens then extended their arms and exposed their palms to the Petersons, to which, the farmer stepped forward and gave them each a good, strong, gentleman's handshake, stunning the aliens momentarily. The palms of Kerbish hands are among the most sensitive parts of their bodies. "Thank you so much for your help," said Jebediah, the Kerb, "Now I can finally go home. I could not have done it without your help. I hope this marks the dawn of a great new friendship between our beings." Each of the family members in turn then followed the father's lead, shaking the alien's hands and saying farewell. The Kerbs tried to remain cordial while nursing their palms. Jeb the boy's thoughts were racing though as the others said their good-byes. He knew that this would be his last chance to get away from it all. If he was to act, it had to be now. While no one was looking, he snuck behind the Kerbs and made a b-line for the Keagle lander. He quickly climbed the ladder and dove into the crew capsule. Once inside, he found a storage compartment large enough to contain his small frame. He crawled inside, covered himself with materials that were already in there, and waited. After what seemed like about fifteen minutes, he noticed the sound of the aliens entering the Mk2 module. He remained as quiet as possible. Once inside, the aliens chattered away in Kerbish while flicking switches and pushing buttons. The vehicle quickly came back to life, and in no time, all were feeling the additional g-forces, as the Keagle rocketed back up into the sky. Looking out of the portal, Jebediah, the Kerb, could see the Peterson family waving good-bye, as they faded to a speck.

What started out as relatively comfortable surroundings were now testing the boy mentally and physically. He was almost to the point of crying out in pain when he heard a metallic clunk followed by the mechanical sound of the hard lock on the Clamp-o-Tron docking port. The Keagle had just docked with its mother ship, the K.S.P. Matzor Kerman. Minutes later, the pressurized hatch opened, and the crew was greeted by three more Kerbs. As they began to unpack the Keagle, a rustling sound was heard in the aft compartment. Jeb, the alien, took the cover off to reveal Jeb, the boy, covered in equipment. "What are you doing here!?!" asked the alien, with a bit of alarm in his voice. "I'm running away," replied the boy. "Please don't take me back," he begged, "I hate living here. Take me with you to Kerbin, please!" Just then a Kerbish voice was heard over the ship's PA system. The boy couldn't understand it, of course, but Jebediah the Kerb made it clear that they were wanted on the bridge. "Well, you might as well come with me," said the Kerb to the boy, "we have a lot of explaining to do." As they entered the K.S.P. Matzor Kerman, they suddenly went from a zero gravity environment to one that was about 1.5 times the gravity of the surface of the Earth. This perhaps explains the rather short stature of the Kerbs. At only ten years old, Jebediah, the boy, was just as tall as Jebediah, the Kerb. The change in gravity took the boy by surprise, and he had to be supported by the Kerbs momentarily when his feet hit the floor. He shot a startled look at the other Jeb. "Mass generators built into the floor," explained the alien, "Standard equipment on all interstellar vehicles." The boy then noticed the many equidistantly spaced blue lights lining the walkways of the corridor. "If you will follow me, I must report this to the Kaptain," instructed the alien. As the group strode the corridor towards the bridge, they passed many open doorways leading into rooms, some with strange looking equipment laying about, some that appeared to be for living, one that appeared to be a galley of some sort. As they passed this room, the boy noticed a tray of some kind of meat sitting on a cart, which looked so disgusting, it could only be described as looking like fetid, rotting cow rectums. It was then that he realized there never were any wolves. As they approached the bridge, a sliding door opened to reveal its occupants. One of the Kerbs, so startled at the sight of the human boy, suddenly vomited up a soft, leathery egg, covered in slime and pulsating veins. The group then watched as the egg started to stretch and undulate. Within seconds, it broke open and a cat-sized, insect-like creature burst out from it and skittered down the corridor, away from the bridge. As soon as this happened, the lights in the corridor turned red. "Please try to remain motionless," requested the alien to the boy. The large insect ran past them and was quickly followed by two guards, one with a stun baton, the other, with a syringe on the end of a long pole, and a grappling rod. They chased the insect down the corridor and around the corner. "It will never make it," noted the alien. "Even if it makes to the incubation chamber, it will be rejected." The group stood at alert until the lights of the corridor returned to normal illumination. Then the Kaptain spoke to the new arrivals, in Kerbish, of course. There was a brief exchange between Jebediah, the Kerb, and the Kaptain, followed by a gentle handshake, and brief meditation. Once completed, the Kaptain was left with a full working knowledge of the English language, having just assimilated it from Jebediah during the hand shake. This is why the following dialog can be printed in English.   

"Jebediah Kerman," said the Kaptain in a somewhat peeved tone, "Our flight recorders noted that the Keagle landing craft you arrived in was overweight upon liftoff. What have you brought with you from the surface?" Jebediah, the boy, stepped sheepishly out from behind the flight crew, sensing that he had gotten everyone into a lot of trouble. The Kaptain's eyes widened when he saw the human boy. "Kaptain Kerman, sir..." said Jebediah, the Kerb, "This is Jebediah, the human. It was because of his help that I was able to contact K.S.P. Control and be rescued. We didn't realize he was onboard when we lifted off..." "Well he can't stay," interrupted the Kaptain. It's bad enough that you totaled another Icarus. The Mission Director is going to have words about that. And now Control makes us turn around and come all the way back here to rescue you, because of your carelessness! We don't have enough fuel to carry any extra mass. Our launch window and orbital escape has been calculated very specifically. Even if we leave on time, at the right mass, our planned trajectory wont get us home before the Krebz ceremony! You know I hate to miss the Krebz ceremony! We've already been instructed to form a separate meditation loop at our current location. Then I suppose I'll have to make an appointment to meet with the Program Director to get him caught up on everything we've learned on this mission. He's not going to be happy.” Suddenly the boy chimed in, "Please, please, sir, don't make me go back. I hate this place, there is no future for me here, please take me with you back to Kerbin," he begged. "Out of the question," answered the Kaptain. We don't have enough supplies for an extra crew member, and I'm not missing our current launch window." Jeb, the Kerb, interrupted, "Sir, I do owe the boy a great debt of gratitude, and feel somewhat obliged to try and help him. His family is in dire straits. They have lived beyond the carrying capacity of their land, and have scarcely enough to eat on a daily basis. Once more, this is a special time of year for them, as they celebrate the birth of their Overlord, who they like to talk about a lot. Isn't there something that we could do to try and help them?" The Kaptain thought about this for a moment while he had a brief side conversation in Kerbish with his second in command. When he returned his attention to the two Jebs, he replied, "I'll tell you what, as I've said, we've been instructed to hold our own private Krebz ceremony at our current location. How about we hold it down on the surface with the boy's family? We will supply all of the food, and they can have their celebration as well. It's the best we can do. The boy cannot come with us." Jebediah, the Kerb, turned to the boy and asked, "Does that sound like something that we could do for you?" Jeb, the boy, was not at all fond of the idea of going back, but at this point his stomach was doing all the thinking, since it had been so long since any of them had had a decent meal. Hesitantly, the boy replied, "I guess so. I'm worried that if my family doesn't get something to eat soon, my father may do something rash." "Excellent," responded the Kaptain, "I will instruct my crew chef to prepare a big meal. The rest of you can get the landers ready for departure. We will plan to rendezvous on the surface at 134093 kerbits." (about 7:00PM).

Back on Earth,  the Peterson family was just sitting down to the evening meal, a single boiled potato that was to be split fourteen ways. A solemn tone filled the air as the family lamented the loss of their own Jebediah. They realized he was missing about two and a half hours after the aliens departed. Had he run away? Was he abducted? Did he get lost? Where was he? So many questions that no one could answer. The farmer instructed everyone to bow their heads and he prayed, "Dear Lord, we give you thanks on this day for this bountiful potato, and we ask for your guidance in finding our son. Please give us some kind of sign to let us know that our son is okay..." Just then a succession of sonic booms could be heard in the sky above Oklahoma. The shock waves rattled the glass in the kitchen windows of the farm house. All eyes opened, and all heads immediately returned to their upright positions. "What in God's name was that!?" exclaimed the wife. The family got up from the table and ran outside into the yard. There in the sky directly above them was the fiery glow of six descending Keagle landers carrying the entire crew of the K.S.P. Matzor Kerman, plus one small, human boy named Jebediah. Precisely at 7:00PM, the Keagles touched down in tight formation around the family. As the dust settled, they lowered their ladders and opened their hatches. The family watched as Kerbs approached them from all directions. As they got closer, one Kerb in particular stepped forward and introduced himself to the farmer, "Greetings human, I am Kaptain Ferbles Kerman, of the K.S.P. Matzor Kerman, currently in orbit around your world. I believe we have something that belongs to you." The crowd of aliens parted to reveal a rather depressed looking human boy. "My son!" exclaimed the wife, as she ran to him and took him into her arms. The farmer immediately fell to his knees and started thanking God. After patiently waiting a few moments, the Kaptain added, "I have more good news for you as well. We understand that this is a special time of year for your species, and we'd like to honor you, and thank you for your help in recovering our lost pilot," he said while shooting an accusatory look at Jebediah, the Kerb, "...by preparing for you a feast, and celebrating with you. As you know, this is a special time for us as well, as we prepare to endure the Krebz ceremony." The farmer continued to sob and thank God for sending the aliens, which the Kaptain interpreted to mean yes. The Commander then turned to his crew and made a hand gesture, accompanied by a series of high-frequency clicking sounds, which seemed to emanate from his massive forehead. Immediately the crew went to work unloading the meal they had prepared, and setting up the table. Once completed, the entire lot took their places at the table, alternating human, alien, human, alien, all the way around. The main course was brought out on shiny silver trays with silver, domed tops. One tray was set down directly in front of the farmer and his wife. Its lid was lifted to reveal a steaming tray of partially cooked, fetid cow rectums. Another tray was placed near the other end of the table, in front of Jebediah, the boy. Its lid was lifted to reveal a fully-cooked, cat-sized, insect-like creature, served with a variety of K.S.P standard issue food pastes. Jebediah recognized it as the premature Kerb hatchling that had caused such a stir earlier aboard the Matzor Kerman. Initially, the farmer and his family were disturbed by the sight, but not wanting to seem disrespectful, they started reaching to fill their plates. At this point, anything had to be better than boiled potatoes. The farmer abruptly stopped them and made everyone wait while he said grace. "Dear Lord, we thank you for sending these aliens and this bounty you have set before us today. We ask that You help us to suppress our gag reflexes so that we may derive nutrition from this meal and live another day to do your good work. In Jesus' name we pray. Amen."  The Kaptain then spoke to all assembled and said, "As this is a special occasion for both of our parties, I would like to propose a toast with a little something I smuggled on board before we left Kerbin." He reached into his suit and pulled out a bottle of some very old Kerbin Pupa Wine from the Kerbite dynasty, star date: 2525.3, a very good year indeed. "I was saving this for when we got back to Kerbin at the end of the mission, but then our plans got changed," he said, while shooting another disapproving glance at Jebediah, the Kerb, "So I say we crack it open now." Once the glasses were filled, he raised his own and toasted, "Here is to the start of a great new friendship between our two beings," and everyone else raised their glasses in turn.

As the group feasted on Kerb instar and rectums, they laughed, exchanged stories, and discussed the differences between their two cultures, of which, there were many. Kerbin society was significantly more egalitarian than human society, and therefore more harmonious. All Kerbs were inevitably enrolled in the Space Training Academy, and upon completion, were guaranteed a job at K.S.P. Control. Kerbs ranked each other by title only. Their payoff truly came in the form of knowledge, and thanks to the Krebz ceremony, everyone was paid the same. The Kerbs, in their private lives, were primarily foragers. A tough life, one would think, but because they are able to control their population growth, there is always plenty to forage for all. Humans, on the other hand, seem to support hierarchical systems, with a great deal of inequality, that become more difficult to control, and more likely to collapse as the population grows. At the top is their Overlord, or God, who the Kerbs never did get a chance to meet. At the bottom, the vast majority of people. Human society is also highly competitive, individualistic, and wrought with divisions and violence, as everyone tries to claw their way to the top, and vies for fame, and each other's money. The Kerbs, on the other hand, are not religious, and do not have a God. Instead they refer to the universal consciousness known as Karl, as their supreme being, who ultimately makes all of their decisions. Human society was built on the concept of growth, growth of the family, the accumulation of wealth, population growth, economic growth, etc... They believe themselves to be exceptional to the rest of life on their planet. Kerb society, however, is built on sustenance, and the holistic idea that Kerbs are only a part of a larger organism. Even the ways that the two cultures develop and use technology are completely different. All Kerbin technology goes towards the advancement of the space program, whereas human technology, for the most part, goes into facilitating consumption, and entertainment. Consequently, these people are perpetually distracted. These were all things to consider during the ceremony while trying to assimilate any useful knowledge from them.

As the two groups prepared for their after-dinner ceremonies, Jebediah, the boy, was once again fixating on how to escape. He waited under the table as he watched his family join hands and form a circle around the Christmas tree. The Kerbs then joined hands and formed an even larger circle around the Petersons. The family sang religious songs, while the Kerbs went into a state of meditation. While everyone else was busy singing, and/or meditating, Jebediah, the boy, ran over to one of the Keagle landers and started pulling equipment out. After he had rounded up approximately 75 pounds (the equivalent of his own body weight), he dragged the equipment away from the lander, and buried in the dirt nearby. Then he ran back to the lander and crawled inside. This time he put on spare space suit that he found hanging in a storage locker. With the visor down, he could not be distinguished from the other Kerbs. There he waited until the festivities were over. Finally, after the 143rd verse of A Mighty Fortress Is Our God, and a lengthy meditation and reflection with Karl, the Kerbs decided that there really wasn't very much to glean from these people. In fact, the only valuable piece of knowledge that they obtained on this trip was that partially cooked bovine rectums are delicious. The prudent thing to do would be to write this mission off as a failure and return to Kerbin as soon as possible.

The crowd mingled for a bit, saying their good-byes, and then slowly started to disperse as the Kerbs parted for their respective landers. The Kerbs made very sure that they had put their gloves back on before shaking anymore hands. Soon, Seanbal Kerman entered the Mk-2 capsule where Jebediah, the boy, was hiding inside a spare suit with the visor down. Seanbal assumed it was just another Kerb who had boarded before him. He jabbered something in Kerbish, to which, Jebediah, the boy, simply nodded his head in agreement. Then the Kerb enjoyed a hearty laugh, to which, the boy nervously accompanied him. Soon, another Kerb entered the vehicle and squeezed right past Jeb to get to his seat. Jeb had to think fast. The capsule held three occupants and the third Kerb should be arriving any minute. Just then he heard footsteps on the ladder outside. He turned to face the doorway just as the Kerb grabbed the handles on either sides of the entry hatch. The first two Kerbs had their backs turned as they were stowing their equipment in the overhead compartments, so they didn't see it when, out of an act of desperation, Jeb kicked the boarding Kerb square in the chest, sending him flying backward off the ladder. It fell over twelve feet to the ground and was knocked unconscious. Jeb then grabbed the hatch door and quickly secured it. His heart was pounding, but after he heard the hatch lock, he turned and faced the other Kerbs who had begun to strap themselves in. Jeb sat down in the empty seat and strapped himself in the same way that the other Kerbs had. Seanbal sat in the pilot's seat and counted down in Kerbish as he flicked switches on the console in front of him. Then, on the count of kerbong, he grabbed the flight yoke, and the vehicle rocketed upward. Thankfully, the sound inside the Mk-2 was too loud for conversation. Jebediah, the boy, stared out the window and noticed all the other landers lifting off in succession, all on a rendezvous course for the K.S.P. Matzor Kerman.  

Finally, after what seemed like about a half-hour, Jeb once again heard the sound of the hard lock on the Clamp-o-Tron docking port. Seconds later, after the pressures had equalized, the hatch was opened and the crew began exiting the lander. As Jeb stepped into the corridor, lined on both sides by docking ports, he noticed that some of the other Kerbs had already arrived. They assembled in the corridor and engaged in some casual Kerbish banter while they waited for the arrival of the others. Jeb, the boy, still wearing his suit with the name Milson Kerman on it, and helmet with the visor down, stood back in the corner and pretended to be checking something on the computer that was built into the forearm of the suit. Of course, he didn't speak or read Kerbish, so he was basically just pushing buttons. Soon all the Kerbs had assembled and a Kerbish voice came over the ship's PA system. Immediately following this, all the Kerbs in the corridor lined up single file and headed for the bridge. Jeb fell in line and tried to act as nonchalant as possible. Once on the bridge, the group assembled before the Kaptain. He said something in Kerbish that Jeb didn't understand, and then the rest of the Kerbs immediately departed to their work stations. All around him, Kerbs were strapping themselves in at their consoles, pushing buttons, flicking switches, all in a well orchestrated move to ready the ship for departure. Jeb was absolutely catatonic. He didn't know what station he was expected to go to. Suddenly a voice shook Jeb back to reality. He looked up to see the Kaptain looking directly at him, yelling something in Kerbish and pointing to an empty seat behind him. Jeb quickly moved to the seat and strapped himself in. The Kaptain refocused his attention on the forward view screen. Shortly thereafter, a countdown came in the form of a computerized Kerbish voice over the ship's PA. This time upon reaching kerbong, nothing happened. The Kaptain shot an urgent look at Jeb, who had apparently been seated at the ship's main propulsion console. He looked up and saw the Kaptain's furious gaze upon him. Then he focused his attention on the console before him. There were lots of buttons and switches and dials, all labeled in Kerbish, of course. One of the buttons stuck out more so than the others. It was a large, red button in the middle of a slightly raised section of the panel, marked with yellow and black stripes. Jeb took a gamble and pressed the red button that was beckoning him. Immediately, the lighting on the bridge turned red and an alarm sounded. All the Kerbs panicked as they assessed the situation. The Kaptain started barking orders in Kerbish and then sat down, strapped himself in, and took control of the ship. The crew went into emergency mode as they prepared for an immediate escape burn using the secondary liquid-fuel back up system. It seems that the button that Jeb had pushed, jettisoned the anti-matter containment pod that the Kerbs used for interstellar travel. Although it was only the size of a coffee can, the pod contained enough anti-matter mass to equal that of a small anti-moon. The Kerbs had learned how to make, store, and control it in order to achieve ridiculous interstellar speeds. The Kaptain repeatedly requested situational updates while he struggled to get the ship ready. Jeb, of course didn't understand anything that was being said, but if he did, he would have learned that the anti-matter containment pod was currently in a decaying, low Earth orbit, and expected to enter the atmosphere in only minutes. Suddenly, everyone was jolted as the K.S.P. Matzor Kerman rocketed forward under liquid-fueled power. The Kaptain stared intently at the heads up display on the forward view screen. The rest of the Kerbs monitored their stations and occasionally shouted things in Kerbish. The roar of the Mainsail engines was deafening inside the bridge, and everything was shaking. They soon had enough delta-V to bring them safely beyond the orbit of the Moon. Once safely away from harm, the Kaptain drew a deep breath and collected his thoughts for a moment. He then turned to Jebediah, the boy, and was about to say something when suddenly the computerized Kerbish voice came over the PA once again. Everyone listened intently as the ship's computer described the most efficient route home at this point, having lost all of their anti-matter fuel. They were to do several liquid-fuel burns and utilize the solar system's more massive bodies, as well as three other stars, and a couple of black holes, to act as gravitational slingshots that will ultimately propel the ship to nearly the speed of light. In theory, it could be done, but what should have been a one year trip, was now going to take slightly longer than twelve years. They would now be missing the next several Krebz ceremonies. Also, there were not enough provisions on board to sustain everyone for this period of time, so the computer instructed everyone to hibernate, until they arrived in the Kerbol system, at which point they would be awakened. The Kaptain shot a nasty glance at Jebediah, still unaware that he was dealing with a human boy, and then angrily sat back down in his chair and began preparing for hibernation. Soon everyone around him was preparing for sleep, by hooking up hoses and wires to their space suits. Then, almost in unison, the entire crew, including the Kaptain, kicked their chairs back and fell into a deep torpor state. The Kerbs evolved the ability to hibernate like this after the Great Impact triggered a thousand year Winter on Kerbin, thirty-thousand years ago.

Meanwhile, as the anti-matter containment pod entered the Earth's atmosphere, it began to tumble and break apart. As soon as the power was lost to the containment field, there was nothing to stop a small moon worth of anti-matter from interacting with Earth's own natural matter, causing a massive release of energy, the likes of which, the Earth has not seen since its own moon was blasted away 4.5 billion years ago. On the surface, the Peterson family had gathered around the unconscious alien laying on the ground. Suddenly the sky around them turned bright white, so bright that everyone was completely blinded. Then, silence...nothingness. Within seconds the matter-antimatter reaction was over. The Earth was left barren, lifeless, and about two-thirds of its original size, still falling around the Sun, a remnant of what it used to be. 

Jebediah, the boy, suddenly finds himself in a bit of a pickle at the end of our story. To a Kerb, twelve years is just a drop in the bucket, considering the fact that the Kerbish life-span is generally several hundreds of years. To a human, however, it is a significant amount of time. Add to that the fact that there wasn't enough food on board to sustain a human boy for twelve years, and things really become quite dire for the lad. Unable to wake any of the Kerbs, he is effectively alone. After having his run of the ship for several days, the hunger pangs start to take their toll. He had long since discovered the ship's galley and its limited supply of meat flavored, dehydrated food pastes, but now there was nothing left to eat, and space madness was taking its toll. As part of a last ditch attempt to survive, the boy turned to the most desperate of measures. One by one, over the course of the next several months, Jebediah, the boy, killed each of the Kerbs in their sleep by asphyxiating them. Then he prepared them in a variety of ways using the ship's fine kitchen amenities, and ate them. Alas, even this desperate act was not enough to save the young boy. The best he could do, if he ate very sparingly, was survive another nine months. He was truly insane towards the end, and couldn't even finish the last Kerb before he passed.

When the ship arrived in Kerbin orbit, twelve years later, any communication attempts by K.S.P. Control were met with silence. A boarding party was assembled and sent to investigate the anomaly. They docked with the Matzor Kerman at the forward port, leading directly into the bridge. When the portal opened, the investing party was greeted by the sight of several empty space suits, each bearing the name of the Kerb that once wore them, and the skeletal remains of a human boy, who used to be called Jebediah.

The End.

[skanecanyon]

I Should Have Chosen the Judas Chair

It was a day not unlike any other. The sun was shining, and a warm breeze blew through my hair as I cruised west down I-90. I was on my way to the annual economics forum in Sheridan Wyoming, where I was to give a lecture on renewable energy development. My name is Jim Westhoven, and I work as an economic consultant for the State of Wyoming, which is trying to promote a more sustainable future through the development of wind, solar, and geothermal power. I had just departed the town of Moorcroft, and had nothing ahead of me except sunshine and rolling hills for the next two hours, so I kicked my seat back and turned on the radio.

The local news channel was reporting on the coincidence of two equally rare astronomical events that were due to take place today. The first event was an unusually large coronal mass ejection (CME), which had just taken place moments ago, at 8:00pm. These things happen all the time, and scientists had been expecting something like this because of recent solar activity, but what made this one particularly alarming is that it was the largest one ever recorded, more than 100 times the output of any previously recorded CME, and it was on a direct intercept course with the Earth. Nobody really knew what to expect. Nobody had ever developed a contingency plan for any such event. People were being warned of the possibility of losing power. All those people without internet access, I thought to myself as I drove, it would be like Hell on Earth. Then I checked Facebook one last time for recent posts.

The impact of the solar flare was contingent upon another rare event. At approximately ten minutes after the CME, there was to be an expected solar eclipse. The damage that was to be done was dependent on how much of the CME was blocked by the moon. I looked at my watch. Shit, that’s like six minutes from now, I thought to myself. Then I looked up at the sun. The moon had already started its transit. I had to squint even with my sunglasses on, but I could see what looked like a little “bite” missing from the left- hand side of the sun’s disc. We’ll be fine, I tried to reassure myself. The sun will be below the horizon soon, and the moon will absorb most of the impact. Then I posted my apprehensions one last time on my Facebook page, along with some pictures of myself that I took while driving.

Suddenly, traffic slowed to a stop as I passed through the town of Gillette. What’s all this then, I wondered. As I craned my neck out of the window, I could see what looked like a parade going on at the next intersection. “What’s going on?” I asked the biker next to me as we sat in gridlock traffic. The butch lad in the leather chaps and cowboy hat responded, “It’s the annual Gillette Gay Pride Parade.” Great, how long is this going to take, I wondered, as I was already running a bit late. I looked again at my watch. It was ten minutes after eight. Then I looked back up at the parade just as the moon perfectly silhouetted the sun behind them causing a brilliant ring of fire in the sky. At the exact same moment, the CME hit, causing the sky to explode into vibrant, flowing curtains of color, like a giant gay pride flag. The solar corona shone brilliantly in the sky like a royal crown, and the crackle of electrical discharges could be heard in the upper atmosphere. The gays were going crazy. The Gillette Gay Marching Band started playing "It's Raining Men", while the rest of the parade participants broke into a perfectly choreographed dance.

As I waited for them to finish their performance, I happened to notice the compass mounted on the dashboard of my car. It was going crazy, even though I had been completely stationary for the last several minutes. Furthermore, the radio kept cutting out. I tried to fine-tune the station, but I eventually lost the signal. The last thing I heard was something about evacuations, and pressure building. Then the radio and the car went dead altogether, as did all the other cars around me. At once, the ground started to shake violently. The gays went scrambling for cover. I decided to stay in the car, while others around me fled in a heated panic. Suddenly I looked up, my hands still tightly gripping the steering wheel. There on the horizon in front of me arose the largest column of smoke I had ever seen. It had to be over twenty miles wide. I struggled to make sense of it all. Was it a massive dust storm, or a wildfire? Then, as I watched what appeared to be huge pillars of glowing hot lava spewing into the air periodically across the width of the smoke column, I realized what had just happened, the CME had just triggered a polar magnetic reversal, which in turn triggered an earthquake that inevitably caused the Yellowstone calderas to blow. “Fuck,” I said to myself as I realized that I was within one hundred miles of the eruption. As I sat there considering my imminent demise, a previously undetected asteroid about one mile in diameter streaked across the sky from behind me leaving a long contrail of black smoke in its wake just before it impacted the very center of the burning calderas.

“That’s pretty much the last thing I remember,” I said to the guy at the gate. “Then all the sudden I’m standing here in this line and everybody is naked.” “Don’t be embarrassed brother,” replied Saint Peter. “Remember, everyone came into the world naked to begin with.” I had died and went to Heaven it would seem. From the looks of this line, everyone else must have died as well. While I was waiting in line, I noticed the faces of some of the people who were stuck in traffic with me. The guy in the leather chaps had been standing right next to me. Further up the line, the gays had already been shown through the front gate. “So this is Heaven eh?” I asked. “That is correct my brother, welcome to paradise,” replied the man with the keys to the kingdom. I stepped through the front gate and looked around. Everything was gold and white. There were endless rows of solid gold mansions lining streets that were also paved of solid gold. The ground was comprised of fluffy, white cloud tops. I stepped onto it and felt the softness beneath my feet. Surprised by the fact that I didn’t fall through, I realized that the soul has no weight. “If you would be so kind as to follow me brother, we’ll get you checked in,” ushered Saint Peter. “So this is paradise eh?” I asked as the two of us walked over to small solid gold fitting room just inside the gate. “You are free to do anything you like while you are here. We only have a few laws that must be obeyed,” noted the good saint as he pointed to two golden tablets next to the fitting room, upon which were inscribed the Ten Commandments. “I assure you that you’ll be quite happy here despite any apprehension you may initially have. Many of your deceased relatives are here waiting for you. You have much to catch up on,” added the saint. The soul at the fitting room then handed me my wings, halo, harp, and brilliant white robe. I donned them without haste, and we continued on to the Heavenly Department of Housing.

“So how do I look?” I asked as we walked. “Simply divine my brother,” responded Saint Peter with an approving nod. We passed several other souls on the way to the HDH. Each one of them was dressed exactly the same, white robe, majestic wings, golden harp and halo. One of the souls we passed smiled at me and said, “Bonum die frater.” I just smiled and nodded my head. “What was that all about?” I asked the good saint. “He said 'good day brother.' The official language of Heaven is Latin of course,” replied the saint, “but don’t worry, we’ve made exceptions for English speakers since there are so many of you here now.” He then added, “The community that you will be assigned to will have many English speakers.” “What exactly are the living conditions here in Heaven?” I asked, “Are we, like, reunited with all of our dead relatives or something?” Just then a solid gold Cadillac pulled up and the door opened. “Come, let me show you,” said Saint Peter, as he directed me toward the waiting car. “I will try to answer your questions en route to your new solid gold mansion.” Then we both hopped in the back seat of the Caddy, and took off down the solid gold street.

As we rode along, I looked out at the surrounding heavenly terrain. Every street was lined with perfectly uniform, solid gold mansions. There were no plants or animals of any kind, but there were plenty of pretty girls, jocks, and military souls milling about, each of them dressed exactly the same. The “Son” shone down brightly from above. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, but there were plenty under foot. It was a strange and captivating sight.

“You must have many questions,” queried Saint Peter. A billion thoughts filled my head in rapid succession. “Oh boy, where do I start?” I asked. “Well, first of all, I noticed you let the gays in back there,” I noted, “I thought God frowned upon that sort of thing.” “Yes, well as you know,” replied Saint Peter, “Jesus never said anything about homosexuality. Gay men are equal to all other men in every way except one, they do not exponentially reproduce. In this respect, they have been stewards of God’s most precious gift and deserve a place in the Father’s heavenly kingdom. It is true that the Bible makes mention of God’s intolerance of homosexuality, as well as shellfish, vegetable gardens, birds of prey, and countless other random things, but always remember that the Bible was written by men, for men. Language is a human construct, not a divine one. In fact, you may be surprised to learn that the closest thing to the truth that humans ever came up with was the Tao Te Ching.” I always suspected that was the case, I thought to myself. “It is true that some homosexuals have gone to Hell of course,” added Saint Peter, “but they were mostly closeted priests and politicians.”

“So there is a Hell then?” I asked. “Oh yes, Hell is quite real. It is the Yin to our Yang if you will.” “Where is it?” I asked. “Hell is located deep in the center of the Earth, at its molten core,” he responded. “And where is Heaven?” I continued. “Heaven is located everywhere beyond the farthest reaches of the known universe,” responded His Holiness. “That totally blows my mind,” I admitted, “The Earth’s core is a fixed size, and the universe is constantly expanding. So Heaven must be getting bigger over time, while Hell stays the same size.” “Yes,” acknowledged the good saint, “We can accommodate many more people here in Heaven than they can in Hell, and that’s part of the problem you see. The Heavenly Empire has been expanding like crazy, while Hell has been forced to deal with severe overpopulation and crowding. After 6000 years of immigration, Hell is pretty much busting at the seams. Soon we will no longer be able to contain the souls of the damned, and the great battle of Armageddon will ensue, which reminds me, we’ll have to get you a solid gold assault rifle at some point.”

“Wait a minute,” I replied, “6000 years? Are you implying that the universe was only 6000 years old?” “IS currently 6000 years old,” clarified the good saint. “But…wasn’t that Judgment Day I just experienced back on Earth, what with the asteroid, the volcano, and the polar shift and all? And what about the dinosaurs and carbon dating?” “Okay, slow down my brother. One thing at a time,” interrupted the saint. “First of all, that was NOT the end of the world. Occasionally, if given enough time, really improbable, crazy things happen, a concept that we as humans never really seemed to grasp. Everything had to have a purpose in order for us to understand it. The actual End of Time isn’t scheduled to happen for another fifty years, and if you think that what you experienced back there was bad, just be thankful you’ll already be dead when the shit REALLY hits the fan. As for the fossil remains that you call dinosaurs,” continued the saint, “they are in fact, the remains of demons that tried to escape Hell by clawing their way through the Earth’s crust. Most of them died before they reached the surface, and carbon dating their remains doesn’t prove anything because carbon dating is based on the earthly conception of time, the rising and setting of the sun, the change of seasons. Here in Heaven the ‘Son’ is eternally risen, and consequently it is always daytime. What appears to be a carbon atom decaying over the course of millions of years to a human appears to us as a carbon atom not decaying at all.”  “It’s always daytime?” I asked. “Yes that’s right,” reiterated the good saint, “Only the physical body needed to sleep. Those Christians who lived above the Arctic Circle seem to acclimate the quickest, but unfortunately, they also have even higher rates of alcoholism than most other Christians. I recommend that you take naps until you get used to it.”

“What about aliens?” I inquired, “Any of those up here?” “You mean like Mexicans?” he asked. “No, like extraterrestrials…space aliens,” I clarified. “No, I’m afraid that Earth was the only inhabited place in the universe,” responded the good saint. “I’m curious as to why God would create something trillions of light years away, that for all practical purposes, can never be visited by man. I always thought that with the sheer vastness of the universe, and the unimaginable number of planets that exist in habitable zones surrounding trillions of stars, that it must be abundant with life,” I admitted. The good saint answered with a question, “Yes, well, what would be the point of creating sentient life on other planets if Christians can never go there and save them from eternal damnation?” I contemplated that question for a moment as I watched the rolling cloudscape pass by outside the vehicle. I always thought it was about exploiting resources, I thought to myself.

“Okay, well what about Muslims? Any of those people make it up here?” I inquired. The good saint then reached into his robe, pulled out a solid gold pair of binoculars and handed them to me. “Take a look at that cloud formation way off in the distance,” he said as he pointed out the window at the horizon. As I focused the binoculars I could clearly see minarets rising above the cloud tops. “That’s Muslim Heaven over there,” noted the good saint. “So the two Heavens are kept segregated then eh?” I asked. “Yes, well…they’re not exactly the enemy, but they’re not exactly a friend either if you know what I mean. We used to be a single unified Heaven thousands of years ago, but since then the population had become so great that subdivisions became inevitable,” explained Saint Peter, “We now coexist as Muslim Heaven, or ‘Heaven East’ as we like to call it, and Judea-Christian Heaven.” “Is it true that they get seventy-two virgins with their membership?” I asked. “Yes, but there’s a catch,” answered the holy man. “You must remember that ALL souls are virgins, because as souls we are born again, and sex is impossible between ethereal beings. Most of the Muslim women who have died are, in fact, elderly women between the ages of 70 and 80 years old. So although technically they’re virgins….” His voice trailed off as he let me draw my own conclusion. “And what do we get over here,” I asked. “Why…paradise of course,” answered the saint. “Oh,” I responded as I looked out at the passing scenery, which was overwhelmingly gold and white.

We soon pulled up in front of a three story, solid gold mansion with a golden fountain in front, surrounded by a driveway paved with solid gold bricks. It was in no way different than any of the other mansions on the heavenly block. “Well I’m afraid this is where we part for now Mr. Westhoven,” said the good saint, and he handed me a set of solid gold keys, “Enjoy your stay.” I took the keys from him. “This is mine?” I asked. “Yes,” replied the good saint, “Everyone in Heaven gets a mansion made of solid gold. I’m sure you’ll be quite happy here. We’ll be in touch. Please enjoy your stay. You have a lot of catching up to do.” I exited the Caddy and watched it drive away down the street. Then I approached the front door to my new home. Just as I was about to put my key in the door, it opened, and there before me stood my brother who had died several years earlier. “Welcome home brother,” he said to me, and invited me inside.

I approached with my jaw agape. “What’s the matter?” said my brother, “Are you surprised to find me here?” “No, not at all,” I said as I shook off my surprise, “It’s just a little overwhelming. Dammit man, it’s good to see you again,” I decried, “You haven’t changed a bit. You look exactly the same as you did when you were alive.” “And you look older than your big brother now,” he said as he tussled the ethereal hair on my head. “So do you live here too?” I queried, to which he responded, “I sure do.” “Sweet!” I exclaimed, “We’ll be roommates then. What about mom and dad? Are they up here somewhere?” I had no sooner finished the question when suddenly my parents emerged from the hallway to my left. “Hello son,” my father said, “We’ve been waiting for you.” “Holy shit!” I exclaimed, “You mean we all are going to be living together again?” “Yes, that’s right,” said my mother. “Wow…just like old times eh?” I said in wonderment. “Better than old times,” added my father, “You see we’re ALL together now.” Then, almost as if on cue, many ethereal beings entered the room from all directions. As my eyes panned the room I saw many faces that I recognized, and many more that I did not. Sitting on the golden couch to my right were my grandparents on my father’s side. My grandparents on my mother’s side were approaching from the kitchen. I saw many cousins from both sides with their husbands, wives, and children. All of them were sporting a welcoming smile. The vast majority of the souls were strangers to me, and appeared to be of a different time period. “Who are all these souls?” I asked, to which my father explained at length. “Well, the two standing at the base of the stairs are your great grandparents on your mother’s side. My grandparents are over there by the mantle, and the elderly couple next to them is their parents. I think your other grandparent’s parents are in the kitchen right now. I saw some of their kids running around earlier. Those people at the top of the stairs are your distant relatives from the old country…” “Wait a minute,” I interrupted, “you mean all of these people live here?” “Yes, that’s correct,” responded my father, “In Heaven you are reunited with ALL of your deceased relatives on both sides, as well as all of their husbands and wives, and all of their extended families who have come before.” “And all of these people, most of whom I don’t know, are free to come and go as they please?” I asked. “Yes, that’s right. Isn’t it glorious?” beamed my father. “It’s a little overwhelming,” I noted, “I think I just need to step outside and get some air, and let it all sink in.” “I’ll go with you,” interjected my brother, and the two of us stepped outside for a stroll on the cloud tops.

As we wandered away from the bustling reunion I asked my brother, “So everybody collectively owns everything, and holds the same status up here?” “Yes that’s correct,” he replied. “So Heaven is an egalitarian communist society then eh? Who would have thought,” I pondered. “Yes well, we don’t like to use that word up here,” my brother advised, “I’m afraid it would cause too much cognitive dissonance amongst our right-wing majority. We prefer instead to call it a fellowship society. Everything belongs to everyone, and you are free to do whatever you want, so long as you obey the Ten Commandments and remember to attend the sermons at the foot of the throne.” “Sermons?” I asked. “Yes,” replied my brother, “When you hear the pipe organ music play, you will know it is time to gather at the throne.” “How often does that happen?” I pried. “Oh…sometimes several times a day, and sometimes once every several days. It’s whenever He thinks of something good to say. You’ll know when it is time to gather when you hear the organ music.” “Where is this throne you speak of?” I asked. My brother pointed off to a billowing column of clouds in the distance with radiant, golden beams of light shining from behind it. “There,” he said, “We gather at the foot of the throne to bask in the warmth of the Son, and hear God’s holy words.”  I stared down at the cloud top as we walked. “You seem disappointed,” noticed my brother. “Yeah well…I don’t know,” I replied, “I mean…I guess I was expecting paradise to be more like the fern grottoes on the island of Kauai or something, with lots of colorful birds and fragrant flowers and what-not, and instead, there are no animals; it’s always daytime; everyone dresses the same; the buildings are all exactly the same; there’s no privacy; you have to go to church all the time, and everything is overwhelmingly gold and white. I mean…Jesus Christ! What’s with all the gold? Doesn’t gold have any value up here? Absolutely everything is made out of it,” I lamented. “Yes,” acknowledged my brother, “The right-wingers have been bringing it with them for ages as they pass. God, guns, and gold you know. Now we have so much of the stuff that we hardly know what to do with it. Looking back, I don’t know why we ever assigned a value to it to begin with. It’s just a rock.” “Yes, but a shiny, beautiful rock that was always limited in quantity and high in demand, therefore it should be greatly valued, and rightly so,” I retorted. “Yes,” replied my brother, “but you’ll soon understand that the free-market economics argument is derived from an anthropocentric view, and the fact that it has been used to justify man’s insatiable wants for so long is what makes mankind a chronically unsustainable creature, unable to recognize the limits of growth, and destined to burn himself out anyhow, even without God’s wrath. In a sense, mankind would create his own End-of-Time, if given enough time. A self-fulfilling prophecy if you will.”

Just then, blaring organ music suddenly filled the air. The sound was ubiquitous and deafening. I recognized the tune immediately as "How Great Thou Art." Wincing at the sound with my ethereal hands covering my ethereal ears, I looked around. Everyone had stopped what they were doing and had faced the Throne. “Jesus Christ!” I exclaimed, “Is it always that loud? I damn near lost my balance!” “Come my brother, it is time,” announced my elder kin. Once we had all gathered at the foot of the throne, the King of all preachers, Jesus Christ Himself, gave a lengthy sermon on the virtues of forgiveness and of loving thine enemy. As I looked around at the faces of the souls in the congregation, I noticed many of the elderly, white, male souls looking at each other and rolling their eyeballs. As for myself, I must say I rather enjoyed the sermon, but the two hours of intermittent standing, kneeling, and sitting that followed really wore me out.

After a while, I started to get a little antsy, and was thinking about ducking out for a quick stroll, just to get some feeling back into my ethereal legs. My plans were quashed however, when I turned around only to come face to face with some rather official looking types in fifteenth century garb. It was the Spanish Inquisition. “James Westhoven?” inquired the man in front of me. “Yes, that’s me,” I replied, “What can I do for you?” “Mr. Westhoven, the Heavenly Kingdom does not tolerate taking the Lord’s name in vain. I’m afraid we are here to revoke your Heavenly membership. It’s either that, or you could sit on the Judas Chair for a fortnight. What is your choice?” Get kicked out of Heaven, or Judas Chair, I pondered as I thought about the many disappointments I had encountered in Heaven so far. I figured that if I was good enough to go to Heaven in the first place, that having my membership revoked would simply mean being sent back to Earth. “Well,” I replied, “there’s no fucking way I’m sitting on the Judas Chair, so I guess you’ll just have to show me to the gate.”

In an instant, I dropped feet first through the clouds into a space that was void of everything but darkness. There was no sensation of movement. Then I noticed pinpoints of light growing in size beneath my ethereal feet. Soon I found myself falling feet first through known space. Whole galaxies, stars and planets came shooting past me at an unbelievable rate. Slowly, a single blue dot appeared directly beneath me. As I craned my neck to stare in the direction I was traveling, I could see that it was in fact the Earth that I was heading toward. The atmosphere didn’t slow me down at all as I plummeted feet first into the still roiling Yellowstone calderas. The magma burnt my ethereal skin as I plunged through the Earth’s mantle and into the core. When I finally came to a stop, I found myself crammed into a writhing mass of ethereal flesh. Myself, along with millions of others, were packed tighter than sardines into some kind of underground cavern. With my ethereal arms pinned to my side, I was completely immobilized except for my head. All around me were the agonizing screams of the damned. Then I realized where I was. It was Hell, and the heat was unbearable. Suddenly a voice drew my attention just to my right. “What’re you in for?” the heathen soul asked me. “Huh,” I responded, still trying to make sense of my surroundings, which looked much like a Hieronymus Bosch painting. “What did they send you here for?” he clarified. “Oh…I took the Lord’s name in vain a few minutes ago. How about you?” I asked. “I coveted my neighbor’s wife,” he replied. “Really?” I asked, “Who was your neighbor?” “You ever heard of the rapper Jay-Z?” he replied. “Well…that’s understandable,” I reassured him.

As I looked around I witnessed some of the most horrible things I had ever seen. Demons that looked like velociraptors walked atop the heads of the damned, snapping their ethereal necks and roaring victoriously. Pele, the Goddess of fire, occasionally pulled souls beneath the writhing mass only to baptize them in the river of magma. The screams and the heat from below were intense. Lesser demons that looked like golems were going around and forcing the tormented to eat the flesh of the damned. “This is horrible!” I remarked to my neighbor, who seemed strangely calm. “Yeah…it’s pretty fucked up,” he replied, “but you get used to it. It’s not ALL bad. We get as much wine as we can drink.” He motioned with a head nod to a taller figure in the distance that was walking atop the heads of the damned and pouring wine into their mouths. “That’s Dionysus,” he explained, “He goes around and douses us in 1789 Château Lafite,” “Wow, I’m impressed,” I said, “That’s top shelf stuff you know.” “Yeah, God sent it all down here when the Marquis de Ségur declared it as ‘being better than the blood of Christ.’ Needless to say, the Wine Prince himself is down here somewhere,” explained my neighbor from Hell. Just then, one of the golems ripped my ethereal jaw open, shoved a handful of literally God-damned human skin tags into my mouth, and forced me to chew. Dionysus came behind him and poured the cursed libation down my throat. The pain was excruciating and I was fully expecting to gag on the rancid flesh, but was instead surprised to learn that it was a little like chewing on rubber bands. I tried to talk myself into getting used to this afterlife, but all I could think about was how I should have chosen the Judas Chair.

The End (but not the end of time)

[skanecanyon]

To Three in Paradise

I awoke this morning to Lily greeting me in her usual fashion, and expecting some fruits and nuts in return. “Good morning Skane, who’s a hansom boy? Squak squak,” she would say as she perched upon my bedpost. Lily was my pet myna bird who I befriended here on Skone Island shortly after I built my completely self-sustainable eco-estate. It was a beautiful morning as usual. A gentle breeze blew through my open-air bedroom. The string quintet showed up to wake me just as I was preparing a snack for Lily. “You’re too late boys,” I said, “Lily already woke me up. Why don’t you guys take some time off? Go be with your families. Take some wine with you, I insist. I’ll see you on Monday.” Lily happily sat and ate her breakfast, while I grabbed a pre-spun and headed down to the beach.

There in the early light of dawn, silhouetted against the backdrop of the rising sun, was my beautiful girlfriend Kate, actively engaged in her quotidian yoga routine. I finished the number at the Tiki bar, and then joined her for some naked Tai Chi on the beach. A little while later, Lily showed up, and the three of us finished watching the sunrise. Watching Kate watch the sunrise always makes me realize how worth it the research was.

You see the technology that created Kate was what won me my second Nobel Prize in 1998. Some colleagues and I developed a genetic treatment that allowed people within a certain phenotypic range to have genetic material removed from their own body, spliced to celebrity donor DNA, and reinserted. Then over the course of the next three months, while the patient was kept in suspended animation within a cocoon (a special isolation chamber, filled with a synthetic type of amniotic fluid, rich with nutrients and various nanobots that aid in the transformation process), he or she would morph completely into the donor phenotype, as they appeared at the age of 25. In short, people could look exactly like their favorite celebrity, and with no ill side effects. Furthermore, this technology led to advancements that eliminated birth defects, aging, and general ugliness. My girlfriend was one of our first patients. She chose the Kate Upton treatment. The transfiguration was remarkable, and she is just as beautiful today as she was the day that she awoke from the cocoon. So complete was the transformation that she insisted on changing her legal name to Kate. This has been a popular thing to do amongst the twelve million or so Kate Upton phenotypes that now exist in society. My first Nobel Prize was for a device that I created, which turns waste plastic into a tasty and nutritious, bacon-flavored food paste.

The sun was starting to get hot now. We decided to go for a walk through the forest, and take our morning shower under the waterfalls in the grotto. “Have I ever told you how proud I am of you?” Kate asked me as she grabbed my arm with both of hers, and drew herself tightly to me. My many endeavors in life have provided well for us. “Every day baby. I wouldn’t need anything else, as long as I had you.” In actuality, we got by very well. Even after donating billions to curing world hunger and eradicating disease, we still managed to live, albeit modestly, on our own private island, with access to just about anything we wanted. We weren’t extravagant people though. The string quintet that wakes me to Vivaldi every morning is really just five of the natives who I felt bad about displacing when I built the eco-estate. I’ve been teaching them English, and classical music on instruments that I made from bamboo, coconuts, and other raw materials. They’ve really become quite good. In return, they have taught me how to live in harmony with nature. They live on the other side of the island and are aptly provided for, as long as they stay on their side for the most part. Don’t get me wrong, they’re absolutely brilliant people, but they’re dirty.

As we walked, all sorts of woodland creatures darted about, playing in the morning sunbeams that streamed down through the forest canopy. The humming birds were busily probing the wild ginger. A mother sea otter and her pups had come to play in the water hole. I turned to Kate, just as a butterfly landed on her hair. “You look absolutely radiant,” I said, as we disrobed one another. “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls,” she replied. Then she stepped out of her panties and dove from the rocky ledge into the crystal pool of azure blue. She emerged perfectly beneath the arc of a rainbow, there at the base of the waterfall. “Are you going to keep me waiting all day?” she shouted to me from below. I finished the wine I had taken with, set the glass down on the ledge, and dove in head first to oblige my lover. We made love beneath the waterfall, and then frolicked with the sea otters.  

We frittered the day away, exploring nature and making love, until it was time to turn in. Tomorrow was going to be a big day. I was going to be ceremoniously presented with my third Nobel Prize for the foundation of Skonism, the one-world philosophy that brought about world peace in 2011. We had to get up early in order to be in Stockholm by dinnertime. All of my old colleagues will be there. “Have you thought about what you’re going to wear tomorrow?” Kate asked, as we got ready for bed. “I don’t know,” I replied, “why don’t you pick out something that’ll make me look good?” “I’m going to wear something hot,” she said, “it’s going to make all your nerdy friends so jealous.” “You’re the hottest anywhere baby,” I replied. Then I downed my usual scotch and coconut water nightcap and crawled into bed.

The following evening, we met up with many of my old colleagues at the hotel in Stockholm. The first one I ran into was Stephen Ellingsworth, who introduced me to his ravishing wife. “Pleased to meet you,” I said, “has anyone ever told you that you look exactly like Anne Hathaway?” I couldn’t help but asking. My colleague, all the while, giving me a cheeky look. “I’m a seven,” she responded. Seven was the catalog number that describes her phenotype. Kate was a three. “That’s right Skane old boy, some of us work for a living,” my colleague interjected. “We’ve updated the catalog considerably since you went off on your little religious excursion. Take a look around you,” he said. As my eyes panned the room I started to notice other colleagues and their wives. Johnson was with a seven as well. Harrington was with a six that looked just like Scarlett Johansson. Bergan is waving to me from across the room. He’s with a four that looks like Penélope Cruz. Then I notice that there are probably half a dozen fours milling about. “Wow!” I exclaimed, “you guys have made some fantastic additions to the catalog.” “Yes, it’s quite remarkable” replied Ellingsworth, “in addition to controlling phenotype, we now also have the ability to control libido and temperament as well.” 

As we talked, Kate was milling about the room, socializing with the other guests. At one point I looked across the room to see her talking with another model three. I wouldn’t have been able to tell them apart if it wasn’t for the low-cut dress that Kate was wearing. “Watch my drink for me, won’t you Skane old boy? I have to make a trip to the little boys room,” said Ellingsworth. “Yeah, no problem,” I replied. After he left the table, the seven interjected by saying, “he’s gay you know.” “Pardon me?” I replied. “Steve Ellingsworth, your former colleague, is homosexual,” she explained. In retrospect, I remembered how he would always stand uncomfortably close to me in the bathroom at the research center back in the old days, even when there were plenty of other urinals available. “Well, what’s he doing with a fine woman like you then?” I asked. “I’m there to throw his constituencies off his scent. Our marriage is a sham. You see, he’s running for office, and it is imperative that nobody discovers his true sexual orientation. The truth is, he’s a self-loathing, homophobic, values-oriented politician who is secretly addicted to gay sex, and who needs someone to make him look on the straight and narrow. The pay is good, but it means that I can never be seen with another man. I can never be intimate with a man, which is rough for a seven with a heightened libido.” Just then my girlfriend Kate approached the table. “Who’s your new girlfriend?” she jokingly queried. “Hi Kate, I was just talking to…I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” “It’s Anne,” the seven replied. I should have guessed. For Kate’s benefit, I recapped the juicy gossip regarding my old colleague, as well as the predicament that my new friend was in. “I swear, even in this day and age, I must be the only unhappy person left in the world,” lamented Anne. Being the founder of world peace made me feel somewhat responsible for her unhappiness. “Why don’t you come live on the island with Kate and I?” I asked. “Oh you’d love the island,” Kate interjected, “it’s our own little paradise.” “He would never permit me to leave,” Anne replied, “It could potentially ruin his career. There are at least a dozen or so armed security forces milling about, keeping an eye on me to ensure that I stay put, and even if I did somehow manage to get out, he would hunt me down and have me killed.” “Listen,” I replied, “you just leave it to me. In a few minutes, I’m going to go into that auditorium, accept my Nobel Prize, and make a big speech. You two girls just make sure that you’re sitting in the front row. I have a plan to get us out of here, but first I have to make a pit stop.”

I walked into the bathroom and washed my hands. The ceremony was about to begin in five minutes. After the bathroom cleared out, I slowly walked the length of the bathroom stalls, scanning the ground for shoes. The sound of my own steps reverberated throughout the tiled chamber. I stopped in front of a stall that was occupied by a gentleman wearing fine Italian leather shoes. In my best falsetto voice I said, “Anybody looking for a good time in here? The bathroom is empty, we’re all alone. Twenty bucks will get you anything you want.” Suddenly, the lock on the stall turned, and the door opened slightly. There, peeking back at me through the gap was the face of my old colleague Stephen Ellingsworth. I kicked the door open only to discover that he had lined the interior of the stall with pictures of gay pornography that he had torn out of magazines, and was masturbating while sitting on the toilet. Straddled atop his head was a young, naked, Swedish boy, effectively giving him a roman war helmet. I immediately took out my iPhone and started snapping pictures of the enraged Ellingsworth as he scrambled to get his clothes back on. “Damn you Skane! Get out of here! This is a blatant violation of privacy!” he screamed at me. Then I explained to him, “Here’s what’s going to happen Steve. After the ceremony tonight, Anne is coming with me, and you’re not going to do a damn thing about it. I heard all about your alter ego. One false move out of you, and these pictures are going straight to the media, understand?” “Fine,” he replied, “I’ll simply find another girl whose phenotypic characteristics are a good match, and is willing to undergo the seven procedure for a tidy sum. I’ll only have to explain her absence for the next three months. She’ll never make it out of the building though. My security forces have been instructed to take whatever actions are necessary to prevent that from happening.” “We’ll see about that,” I replied, “Vaya con Dios my gay friend. I’ll see you at the reunion.”

I left the bathroom and walked into the auditorium just as they were introducing me. Everyone stood and clapped as I made my way to the stage. I gave Kate and Anne a quick wink as I climbed the stairs to the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the recipient of the 2011 Nobel Prize, and founder of world peace, Skane Canyon,” announced the Master of Ceremonies. Looking around the room, I could see Ellingsworth’s armed security guards in the balcony, and standing by the exits. “I was going to give a long and prepared speech tonight,” I said to the audience “but instead, I thought maybe we could hold a traditional Skonism service to honor not the man, but the Way of the man.” The service began as usual with the lighting of incense, and the listening to Pink Floyd’s Meddle album. During the first half of the album, worshipers shared the ceremonial peace pipe, drank coffee, ate scones, and engaged in stimulating conversation. Then the room was darkened and filled with fog. Just as Echoes began to play, lasers pierced the fog, creating intricate patterns on the walls and ceiling. Massive latex balloons were rolled out, and batted to and fro among the worshipers. The security guards seemed unimpressed by all of this and stood their posts. Then I removed a blow dart gun from my inner suit pocket. It was one that M’Quayquay, the native chief of the island where I live, had given to me, which I have always carried with me for just such an occasion.  I darted each of the giant balloons, which caused them to pop and release a potent cloud of love gas. Within seconds, the cloud had filled the room, and people had started uncontrollably making out with anyone who was near them. Soon it had developed into a full-blown writhing orgy. Not even the security guards could resist the urge to join in. I motioned to Kate and Anne in the front row to come up on stage, and follow me. The three of us ran out through the back stage loading dock to where my car and driver was waiting. “To the airport James,” I said as we jumped into the back seat, and the car peeled away, leaving the sordid affair behind.

At the airport, we caught a flight to Sydney with a layover in Paris, where I picked up a special gift that I had promised a dear friend of mine. Then from Australia, we hired a local island jumper to fly us the rest of the way to Skone Island. The landing strip was on the native's side of the island. As our plane touched down, the entire village came out to greet us. Kate introduced them to our new friend as I helped unload the plane. M’Quayquay the tribal leader soon approached with a big smile on his face to welcome me home. “Don’t worry M.Q.,” I said, “I didn’t forget your wine my friend,” as I unloaded his gift from the plane. It was a case of 1789 Chateau Lafite, the Chief’s favorite libation, and very hard to find around these parts. So happy was he to receive it, that he insisted upon throwing a big feast in our honor. 

Back at the village, we built a big bonfire, passed the ceremonial peace pipe, and participated in the M’Nxiamanbo, a traditional tribal dance that is performed when a loved one returns from a long trip. Kate and Anne danced with the children, while the women of the tribe prepared the dinner. As the sun was setting, I broke open a bottle of the Chateau Lafite and silently pondered how many glasses I would be pouring. Let’s see, there’s the three of us, M.Q., his wife and children, M’Batu, M’Nmballo, M’Ximoto, and M’Bopaloobop, the elders M’Nimtibop, M’Ballua, M’Dixonphyr, and…wait a minute, where’s M’Mgud? From across the yard I shouted to my friend M’Quayquay, who was tending the cooking pot, “Hey M.Q., where’s M’Mgud?” He simply smiled at me and pointed at the pot. Personally, I found the habit to be disturbing, but who was I to tell these people how to live? It’s simply how they control their population. I finished pouring the wine, and we assembled in the ceremonial hut made out of dung, and the bones of the deceased. During dinner, the ravenous and now quite drunken natives didn’t even notice how the three of us fed our servings to the village dogs. Then, after dinner, the natives fell asleep around the fire, and the three of us saddled up for the trek back to the eco-estate, which could only be reached by sea, or by horseback, across the volcanic ridge that separated the two sides of the island.

At the top of the ridge, we stopped to watch the moon and stars drift slowly across the bay. As I lay in the grass on the hillside, with Kate snuggled up under one arm, and Anne under the other, I tried to recite a French poem from memory. I was struggling through the last few lines when suddenly Anne turned to me and finished the verse, “…et ensuite, les trois, ils ont fait de l’amour sous les étoiles.” She had the look of longing in her eye. I looked at Kate and she responded by saying, “j'aimerais bien ça mes chères.”  The three of us then stripped naked and took a dip in a spring fed pool of water near the top of the mountain, that was kept at a constant temperature of 102 degrees Fahrenheit due to the lava tubes that ran deep beneath it. We made love there under the stars in virtually every position imaginable for hours until a slight glow appeared on the horizon. Then we got dressed and continued the trek back home.

We returned home just as the sun was rising. “There’s still one bottle of wine left, you girls up for a night cap?” I queried as we rode up the beach to the eco-estate. “Sounds good to me,” replied Kate. Then the three of us lay there on the beach, watching the sunrise. It wasn’t long before Lily showed up to welcome us home. I poured us each a glass and we made a toast. “Here’s to us,” said Kate. “To us,” responded Anne. “To three in paradise," I added, and we clinked our glasses.

The end.

[skanecanyon]

Ten Monkeys

Ten Monkeys

Everyone is familiar with the story of Adam and Eve, the first two humans that God created 6000 years ago, whose children’s incestuous conjugations propagated the whole of humankind as we know it today. But what are the stories behind all the other living things that God created for Adam and Eve’s amusement? Are all the monkeys that we see today descendant from two original monkeys? Well no, you see God had to make more of some kinds of creatures than others. He couldn’t have made just two ants, or two mosquitoes, or two nematodes for example. If that were the case, chances are that Adam and Eve would never run into them. He couldn’t have made just two monkeys, because there must have been millions of lice, and that’s way too much lice for two monkeys. No, in fact God made ten original monkeys, and this is their story.

At the beginning of time, there existed ten monkeys named Cocoa, Panga, Raj, Macaca, Oot, Timba, Jenga, Maputo, Chen Chen, and Walter. They lived in the Land of the Great White Ape, which we commonly know as The Garden of Eden. Early on, there wasn’t much to do. Every day was perfect. The 10 monkeys basked in the sunshine, enjoyed their bountiful surroundings, played games with the humans, and frolicked with the other garden creatures. That was day one. Then Eve ate the apple from the tree of knowledge, which we all know fucked everything up and sentenced us all to a life of eternal damnation.

On day one of existence, Oot was basking on the shoreline of a garden pond, when a glint of sunlight reflecting from the water caught his attention. He got up and waded out into the pond a bit to investigate. There he saw, the most beautiful stone he had ever seen, resting on the bottom of the pond. He bent down and picked it up. It shone brilliantly in his hand, reflecting rainbows of colors in all directions. He kept it with him so that he could show the other monkeys.

On his way back to meet with the others, he encountered Raj, who was picking bananas along the roadside. He showed what he had found to Raj, and Raj was instantly captivated by it. Raj wanted to ask where he had found such a beautiful thing, but language hadn’t been developed yet. He was so enveloped by its radiance that he didn’t even notice Oot doing a bit of a pee-pee dance. Then Oot motioned that he had to go really bad, and could you hold this for me? Then he handed Raj the stone to hold while he pissed in the bushes. Well, Raj saw this as an opportunity. He knew from the moment he saw the stone, that he must have it. And so while Oot was taking a piss, he bolted out of there on the back of one of the first Australian cattle dogs that God created. When Oot returned from his evacuation, he saw that Raj was gone…and so was the stone! Infuriated, he stormed back to the tribe on foot.

When he got back to the monkey village, he saw that Raj was showing the stone to the other monkeys and gesturing that he found it alongside the road. The other monkeys were captivated by it’s beauty. This enraged Oot even more than he already was, and he bolted across the field, tackling Raj to the ground. Fire burned in his eyes as he repeatedly tore into Raj’s flesh with his razor sharp incisors. It happened so fast that Raj had no time to run, and no time to defend himself. The stone dropped to the ground as Raj clutched his bleeding neck. He tried to scream, but couldn’t. Oot had torn his larynx and ruptured his jugular vein. In a few seconds, Raj had bled out, and fell still. Oot, charged with adrenaline, reclaimed his prize and ran home as fast as he could. The others stood frozen in fear and disbelief. One particular monkey, Walter, observed the commotion from his usual perch in his favorite tree. He briefly wondered what the shiny thing must have been in order for it to have caused such pain and misery. He didn’t understand why there should be such commotion about a shiny rock. He made a mental note to stay away from shiny rocks, because if you have one, someone will kill you and take it. Then his thoughts turned back to the task at hand. He was trying to figure out how to get a grub out of the hole it had bored in the tree, so that he could eat it.

Nine Monkeys

By day five, things had settled down considerably following Raj’s death. One of the first hyenas that God created had found the lifeless, but still warm body of Raj, and hauled it back to it’s den. The monkeys went back to foraging in the garden, and Walter finally figured out how to spear grubs with a sharp stick. Of the nine remaining monkeys, only two of them were girls, Cocoa and Chen Chen. Cocoa was very attractive as monkeys go. Thick golden hair and large red buttocks. Chen Chen by comparison, was rather dumpy and plain. Needless to say, Cocoa got all the attention. Everyone wanted to be with her. Fights would break out amongst the males as they competed for her affections. Cocoa quickly learned that she could be with just about any male she wanted, and so she chose Oot, because he had the pretty stone. He also had that rebellious bad boy attitude that she was sure she would be able to tame. Walter thought she was pretty hot, but way out of his league, so he didn’t bother. In fact Oot soon noticed that everyone wanted to be his friend, since he found the pretty stone. It didn’t take long for him to learn that he could use the stone to get the other monkeys to do things for him. Panga wanted to trade some bananas for the precious stone. Jenga volunteered to pick his lice in exchange for the stone. Timba was the biggest monkey, and offered to protect him from the others in exchange for the stone. But nothing compared to the sweet affections of the lovely Cocoa. Oot wanted to have all these things, but he didn’t want to give up the stone for any one of them. Suddenly he had an idea. He bashed the stone repeatedly with another rock, breaking it into many pieces. Each piece was as beautiful and radiant as the original. Now he could give out pieces of the rock in exchange for goods and services, and thus, the first economy was born. Everyone scrambled to do things for Oot so they could be rewarded with a piece of the stone, everyone except Walter that is. Walter didn’t see what all the fuss was about. His time and effort was not worth a tiny piece of rock. Plus he never really liked Oot that much, and was too busy making a new spear for himself anyway. The rest of the monkeys ran to Oot’s place, and fought amongst themselves to be the first one to trade with Oot. They were unaware that he had already chosen his first trade. Oot was spending most of his time with Cocoa, trading pieces of stone for sexual favors. When it came to trading, Cocoa always had a way of stepping to the front of the line.

Cocoa and Oot spent more and more time trading together until one day Cocoa noticed she was getting bigger. Soon thereafter, small moneys started falling out of her body. This freaked all the other monkeys out. They couldn’t figure out why this should be happening, and would it happen to them someday? They didn’t remember ever having fallen out of another monkey. As far as they could recall, they’ve just always been. They didn’t understand that God had created them, because they didn’t speak English. In an attempt to understand this phenomenon, several ideas were proposed. Macaca motioned that maybe it was something she ate. Maputo disagreed and said that it must be because of a divine influence that he referred to as “Hanuman”, who would in later years become the Monkey God of Indian and Chinese mythology. Neither of these things made any sense to Walter. He had eaten just about everything in the garden, and never once did he pass a small monkey. And the whole Immaculate Conception thing seemed a little too mystical and magical for him. He just insisted that there are some things they cannot know. So he didn’t really dwell on the subject much.

In no time, Oot had given all of his stones to Cocoa, and found himself unable to supply for himself, or for the new mouths he had to feed. Cocoa, having acquired all the stones, left Oot and moved onto better things. The small monkeys were always crying, and that was driving Oot to madness. In an act of desperation, Oot ended up killing and eating all of the small monkeys. Just as he was finishing off the last small monkey, one of the metacarpal bones from its left hand became lodged in Oot’s throat and he ended up choking to death. This was one of the first examples of karma. The rest of the monkey community was shocked by Oot’s death. The pious monkeys pointed to it as proof that the Monkey God was angry with Oot, and so they should all watch their step. The other monkeys blamed Cocoa for not being a good mother. Walter made a mental note to avoid Cocoa for fear of being infested with small monkeys himself.

Eight Monkeys

By week five, a system of trade had been established between the monkeys. Goods and services in exchange for stones. Macaca set up a nice little banana stand. Jenga offered a de-lousing service. Maputo sold bags of his own poop for throwing. Timba ran a bodyguard service for Cocoa. Everyone became accustomed to doing their one thing and relied on their cache of stones to get whatever else they wanted. There was peace and abundance throughout the garden, and with that peace there was little need for bags of poop to throw at one another. And so Maputo’s business dropped off considerably. Soon he was out of stones and out of bananas too. There was no need to pick bananas anymore. If you wanted a banana you simply went and got one from Macaca…for a few stones, which he didn’t have. Out of desperation, Maputo went to the banana field at night, intent on picking a few bananas to eat, but when he got there, he found that Macaca had surrounded the banana patch with thorny bushes, in order to protect his inventory. Maputo tried to climb over the thorny bushes, but in his weakened state, he lost his balance, fell, and became entangled in the razor sharp vines. The more he struggled, the more the thorns pierced and cut his flesh, until he eventually passed out from blood loss and was picked apart by some of the first carrion crows that God made. There was much gesturing the next day about Maputo’s tragedy. Everyone was shocked at how something like this could happen in this utopian society they had created. Macaca felt terrible about the whole thing. He gestured that if he had only known, maybe he could have helped. Then he went back to business as usual the next day, everyone did. Walter was glad that this would never happen to him, because whereas all the other monkeys had focused their attention on acquiring stones, Walter was figuring out that wherever he pooped after he ate bananas, there would grow another banana plant. It wasn’t long before Walter was able to section off a piece of land, poop all over it, and raise his own bananas.

Seven Monkeys

Panga was employed by Macaca to climb trees and pick bananas so that Macaca could concentrate on sales. He would climb the trees, pick the bananas, and then lower them down to the ground with a rope made of hemp. Yes, even a monkey can easily realize the many benefits of hemp. Anyway, one day, while picking bananas, Panga’s feet became entangled in the rope and caused him to fall out of the tree. He fell for what seemed like an eternity, when by grace, he was jolted to a stop, just inches above the ground. There he hung upside down, spinning in circles, with a look of bewilderment on his face. About this time, Cocoa was wandering by, and she happened to see the whole thing. Seeing Panga hanging upside down with that look on his face made her laugh. Then he got pissed and started to struggle, so she went over to help him down and make sure he was all right. Unfortunately, Macaca had also witnessed the event, and the effect it had on Cocoa. He quickly put two and two together, and concluded that jumping out of a tree like a fool will gain the affections of Cocoa. And why not? Cocoa was extremely attractive, and by now, quite rich. So the next day, Macaca gestured to Panga, to take an unpaid day off. He would do the picking that day. Then he climbed a banana tree, tied one end of the rope around the branch, and the other end around his left foot. There he waited for Cocoa to stroll by on her daily walk. As soon as she was close enough, Macaca jumped out of the tree, making sure to get a good distance, but unfortunately, he had failed to measure the distance to the ground, and instead just kind of eyeballed it. As a result, the rope was much too long. Macaca hit the ground hard, breaking his neck, as well as virtually every other bone in his body. He was dead. Cocoa ran to his side, but it was no use. He was really messed up. So she took a few bananas and ran. Walter’s tree overlooked the banana patch, so he too had been watching the events from afar. He thought it looked dangerous, and wondered why anyone would ever want to do that on purpose. He learned two things that day, never try to copy stupid things that other monkeys do, and don’t trust Cocoa, because she will steal shit from you. Within a few weeks, some of the first annelids that God made had completely recycled Macaca’s remains, but boy did it stink for a while, and so a lot of monkeys turned to capturing, killing, and eating other animals, in order to avoid the stinky banana patch for a while. They found that these animals were often quite tasty, and gave them a lot of energy.  Walter didn’t eat meat. He liked his bananas, and had an ample supply of his own that wasn’t contaminated by the rancid stench of Macaca’s decomposing body.

Six Monkeys

One day a terrible storm blew up over the garden. High winds and ferocious lightning sparked fires everywhere. God must have been very pissed, but they didn’t understand why. The monkeys cowered beneath the leaves of their trees, not sure where to go or what to do. Walter ran to a cave he had discovered one day when he was out exploring beyond the garden. There he remained dry, and felt rather safe. After the storm had passed, it was discovered that Jenga had been struck by lightning. As it turned out, being at the top of a tree was not necessarily the best place to be in a thunderstorm. Poor Jenga was toast. Cooked stiff, but the aroma triggered their umami sense, and the monkeys, being omnivores, couldn’t help but eat the now cooked remains of Jenga. Furthermore, grass fires still burned throughout the garden, and some of the monkeys discovered that you could use this fire to cook the meat that they capture, making it taste wonderful, and a lot less bloody. High winds however, drove those fires right through the garden, destroying the treetop homes of all the monkeys. Walter was weary of the fire, and so he stayed in the cave. While the other monkeys lamented their losses, Walter saw no reason to return to his tree. Plus, he had already discovered that the cooler temperature of the cave generally made his bananas last longer. The other monkey essentially became nomadic, until the forest had returned to a habitable state, at which point, they returned to the garden and rebuilt their houses at the tops of the trees.

Five Monkeys

While they were away, Timba had fallen ill. He started losing weight and had constant diarrhea. As a result he became dehydrated and died. As it happens, Timba had contracted trichinosis from undercooked meat. He hadn’t cooked his food long enough, and the inside remained raw. As a result, two of the first tapeworms that God had created, absorbed all the nutrients that Timba needed to live. The other monkeys left him behind when they moved back to the garden. It is not clear what ever happened to Timba’s body, but it is assumed that the two tapeworms inevitably made it aboard the Ark.

Four Monkeys

There are only four monkeys left at this point, Chen Chen, Cocoa, Panga, and Walter. Two girls and two boys. It may surprise you to learn that Chen Chen and Walter never actually met before. You see, of the ten original monkeys, only two of them were girls, Cocoa and Chen Chen. Cocoa was always the prettier one, and she always received most of the attention. Chen Chen was just kind of plain, and so she remained reclusive, preferring to engage in one of her many hobbies, rather than mingle. Walter, of course, was reclusive in his own right, and so the two never crossed paths. The two remaining males were Walter and Panga. Walter is older than Panga, even though they were created on the same day. Panga was just a dumb kid who picked bananas for a living. Cocoa had a choice to make, whom to hang out with? Cocoa and Chen Chen never really liked each other very much, and Cocoa, recognizing Walter as the older male, and therefore more likely to have a larger collection of stones, chose to hang out with him rather than Panga. Walter however, was scared to death of Cocoa, and didn’t want anything to do with her. He was lucky one morning to be chilling in front of his cave, when he saw Cocoa coming toward him across the garden valley. He ran deep into the cave and hid behind a stalagmite, way back in the dark recesses. From there, he could see Cocoa come to the cave entrance. She entered the cave a little ways, but she was afraid to go back into the darkness. She paced and gestured wildly for a few moments, and then she marked several of the rocks with her anal gland before eventually giving up and leaving. Walter waited until nightfall to come out. In the mean time, Panga had been courting Chen Chen, and they actually got along pretty well, until the incident. You see, Cocoa, frustrated by Walter's indifference, was on the prowl for some male companionship, and she was going to screw the next monkey she saw to try and make Walter jealous. That monkey happened to be Panga.

One day while picking bananas, Panga encountered Cocoa on her daily stroll. She flared her buttocks and made it perfectly clear what her intentions were. Today was this kid’s lucky day. And of course who, other than Walter, would pass at the chance to get busy with Cocoa? They ended up going back to Panga’s place, where they engaged in wild monkey sex for six hours, until Chen Chen happened to stop by unannounced. She had made Panga a walking stick and wanted to surprise him. When she saw Cocoa and Panga together, she became enraged. As if possessed by a demon, she attacked Cocoa with the walking stick. Her movements were swift and her blows, precise. Stick handling was one of Chen Chen's solitary hobbies, and she became very good at it. In fact her forms and routines would go on to evolve into what is now known as the “Monkey Form” of Shaolin Kung Fu. In three swift moves, Chen Chen managed to trip her up, and then cause blunt trauma to the head, which is what killed her. Panga ran out of there like a wild fire, never looking back. Then Chen Chen honored her adversary by burning her remains in a ritual funeral pyre.

Three Monkeys

Panga was terrified. He was so fucked. He couldn’t go back to the garden now. Chen Chen would kill him for sure. So he left the garden and wandered in the wilderness for days. Outside of the inner sanctum of the garden, he was no longer protected by God’s love, and it wasn’t long before he went mad, and was killed and eaten by one of the first anacondas that God created. There is a long-standing debate as to whether or not that anaconda was in fact Satan.

That leaves only two monkeys left in the garden, Walter and Chen Chen, two reclusive monkeys who gradually expand their territories as time goes by. Without the other monkeys around, both Walter and Chen Chen finally dare to wander outside their usual dwellings.

Two Monkeys

One day, both Chen Chen and Walter were separately exploring deep in the heart of the garden, when they suddenly encountered each other for the first time. Each of them thought that they were the last of their kind, and so both were quite startled. Chen Chen immediately went into ward-off position while in back stance. She twirled her walking stick around her body with grace and beauty and then struck a defensive pose. This impressed Walter, and he extended his hand to her, to offer her a banana. The rest is history. You see this is where the story of existence strays from the Bible. The Bible would lead you to believe that Adam and Eve gave birth to Cain and Able, who then had incestuous relations with their own mother and sisters in order to create the whole of mankind. This actually couldn’t be further from the truth. You remember that terrible storm earlier in the story, the one that killed Jenga? As it so happens, that actually was the work of God. He was so upset upon hearing that one of the great white apes ate from the tree of knowledge after specifically being told not to, that he decided to kill off all of the great white apes and start over. Yes, Adam was killed off too, even though he had nothing to do with it. God likes to punish everyone to set an example.                  

The monkeys lived on however. Well, Walter and Chen Chen anyway. Not only that, but over time, their love for each other grew, and they spent many hours and days procreating, until the monkey population was reestablished. It was small at first, and everything was harmonious, the way God intended it. Over the years though, the monkey population grew, and this state of harmony became harder and harder to maintain. Soon the garden became too small to hold all of them, and many expanded into the surrounding wilderness, and eventually populated the entire earth.

Now I know what you’re thinking. If God killed off Adam and Eve, the two great white apes, then how can it be that we exist today? The answer is simple. One day approximately 5900 years ago, one of the great great great great great grandchildren of Walter and Chen Chen did something extraordinary, it stood upright. The rest is history.

The end.