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Insane Ramblings. DO NOT WASTE TIME.

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BigBadBaldy

TRIBE Member
There was a time when things were very different. I remember being a small child, opening and closing the drawers of my bureau using the telekinetic powers that had been artificially encouraged in me through a steady diet of intrapineal lsd injections on the starship while I incubated on the trip over. Things were very different.

I had big plans then. World conquering. Full scale invasion. Toasted marshmallow. Like Tony Montana looking up at the blimp after he goes to collect Elvira after killing Frank, the world truly was mine.

I think the first blow was realizing that though I had a fully functioning 4,000 year-old superintelligence, trapped in this human body I was forced to urinate and defecate in my clothing. Well, into a special waste carry-all, really..

..and I started to like it. My IQ instantly began dropping.

Years later, still vaguely interested in dominance and mayhem, but with the IQ of an interstellar retard, I wrongfullly decided that my first step in bringing the human race to its knees like a $5 crack whore was to pull on Michelle Isbister's pony tail really hard while kicking her in the buttocks simultaneously. I was giddy with visions of GLOBAL DOMINANCE dancing in my spongy head, when she turned around, furious, and hoofed me in my reproductive organs.

..from my knees, looking up into that glaring face, my IQ dropped another trillion points. I was fucked. I dug the homing implants out of my teeth, and forgot about the takeover.

..I was in love.
 
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Guest

Guest
Your location has never been more pertinent.

But know that I had a hearty chuckle over this line: "Years later, still vaguely interested in dominance and mayhem..."

Lemme guess - another Kurt Vonnegut reader??
 
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BigBadBaldy

TRIBE Member
"FREEZE!"

Fuck, it made me so incredibly hard to yell that at the top of my lungs, gun hard and dangerous in my clammy palms, some mother-raping scumbag running down the alley away from me, just ASKING to get plugged fucking killed full of holes until his bones disintegrated holes bleding holes weeping holes..

He froze and actully fell to his knees, causing my prick to jump in my pants. I jogged up to him, panting, and towered over him with a smirk.

He was ugly. It looked as if someone had gouged his left eye out with a hot piece of metal, the skin partially covered the socket yet drooped in an almost liquid manner. He was shaking. I liked that.

I put my gun up against his face and sighed audibly. He recoiled slightly, but I grabbed the other side of his face and held him steady. Rubbing the cold metal against his slick, sweaty cheek made me want to either pop it or pop him right there. Blood or semen, probably both, in the end. I slid the gun around to the front and placed it against his forehead. Our eyes locked, and no words needed to be exchanged. He knew I was in charge, I knew I was in charge.

I slid the barrel into his quivering mouth, hearing his teeth grind against the black steel. My knees got week, and things started swimming in front of me. The sound of ocean surf crashing against my disembodied brain.

I thought of my father.
 
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Jazz

TRIBE Member
At first I thought, if I were Superman, a perfect secret identity would be "Clark Kent, Dentist," because you could save money on tooth X-rays. But then I thought, if a patient said, "How's my back tooth?" and you just looked at it with your X-ray vision and said, "Oh it's okay," then the patient would probably say, "Aren't you going to take an X-ray, stupid?" and you'd say, "Aw fuck you, get outta here," and then he probably wouldn't even pay his bill.

Once when I was in Hawaii, on the island of Kauai, I met a mysterious old stranger. He said he was about to die and wanted to tell someone about the treasure. I said, "Okay, as long as it's not a long story. Some of us have a plane to catch, you know." He stared telling hes story, about the treasure and his life and all, and I thought: "This story isn't too long." But then, he kept going, and I started thinking, "Uh-oh, this story is getting long." But then the story was over, and I said to myself: "You know, that story wasn't too long after all." I forget what the story was about, but there was a good movie on the plane. It was a little long, though.

I wouldn't be surprised if someday some fishermen caught a big shark and cut it open, and there inside was a whole person. Then they cut the person open, and in him is a little baby shark. And in the baby shark there isn't a person, because it would be too small. But there's a little doll or something, like a Johnny Combat little toy guy---something like that.
 
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BigBadBaldy

TRIBE Member
My favourite memory is heaing them come.

If I stop thinking so hard, close my eyes, I can almost take myself back to that day. 8 years old. Summer. July 18th. 1:27 pm. The sun was beating down on my childish back, I fancied I could feel the skin cooking on my bones. The grass under my stomach felt like a cross between paper, plastic and tiny knives. Small, cool knives, threatening but not cutting. The tiny waves lapping against the shore of Lake Cuzmiffin beat a rythmic tattoo on my eardrums, lulling me into a hypnotic half organic half robotic stupor. In my near somnambulent state, I heard the bats coming first. I didn't know they were bats right away. It sounded like someone cooling themselves really fast with one of those Japanese fans. FANFANFANFAN fanning themselves so hard their powdered skin flaked and flew away, exposing grinning bone, mocking, screaming.

They blotted out the sun. Millions of them. Then I felt.. something. Like the ground rumbling, only under a trillion TINY feet. I couldn't move, but managed to swivel my head away from the lake, to the slight hill our cottage sat on. Although I could barely see them yet, I could feel and hear a blanket of insects, BILLIONS OF THEM moving steadily twords me. I cried, I screamed, I was paralysed. I felt them reach my feet and move over me like the hands of a skilled physician. Probing, but in a dispassionate, searching manner. Looking for clue.. symptoms.. weaknesses.

They filled my sreaming mouth, ears, covered me, drinking the liquid from my eyes. Laying their egg sacs in the warmth of my armpits, building warrens in my steaming bowels.

When the night came, I had been changed. Reclaimed by nature.. still human, but not.. I felt the earth in a way I never had before. Cupping me, loving me, I felt her pulse weakly, vengefully below. The time had come. Direct action. Intervention. We had fooled ourselves for so long into believeing that WE were the masters of the planet.. never really understanding until this day how wrong we were.
 
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BigBadBaldy

TRIBE Member
It's ok now.

I realized my chicken lamp was not on, and therefore NOT exerting it's usual "I'm a proud cock guarding your computer and keeping you safe" calming influence on me.

BBB.

This is not fiction. I have a giant glowing rooster beside my computer that guards it. He is stern, but fair.

Critical, but supportive.

Proud.
 
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Rosey

TRIBE Member
ummmm chris....did you by any chance watch full metal jacket b2b with clockwork orange b2b with apocolypse now last night?

jus askin.
 
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mingster

TRIBE Member
Originally posted by Rosey
ummmm chris....did you by any chance watch full metal jacket b2b with clockwork orange b2b with apocolypse now last night?

jus askin.
Click to expand...
I think the robotic mice must have chewed away at his brain while he was sleeping last night...

Ming.
 
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Rosey

TRIBE Member
kubrik can do bad things to your head.

the night before i flew back to alberta for my second season working deep in the bush i stayed up and watched apocalypse now for the first time. when i got on the plane the next morning i was more than a little bugged out.

i wanted a mission and for my sins they gave me one.
 
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