To the crazy man [Rewired]:
Hey, what's up? I am the same that I've always been. I've heard you've been talking about me. You think I'm crazy, don't you? Well, I'm totally sane.

Me?!! I've never had a hickey, never will. It's against my religion. If I got one the dinosaurs would have to come out and eat me.

Anyway, I hope that you're doing fine and that all is going swell. Stay cool and damn it, [Rewired], go to college next year! Lakeland if nothing else. If you don't you'll end up wasting your life as I have up until this point.

Know what I mean? Love ya. In a good way as a brother in Christ. Go to church, [Rewired], you won't be as depressed!!

Amy.

-Rewired's Official Torturer

And that was it.. the guilt set in...

For all the times I hurt them I apologize, and it all goes back to the same place. Each time I hurt the next one because the ONE that hurt me still burns in my heart. He will always rip at my soul each day I hold the next one of their hands.

His eyes are the ones I see as I look into each new face, hold each new hand... and all of their names are "Chris." And he looked at me in the eyes and said "It's Over."

One time I went to K Mart with my friend. We were about six. We were running around through the clothes racks when he hit his head and fell. I approached him, laughing and out of breath. Then I noticed blood, and lots of it. He had split his head clean open. Man, there was blood everywhere you looked. On the clothes, on the floor, all over his face and hands. He stood up and began to scream and then passed out. When he hit the floor, blood squirted out of his head and got all over some lady's white blouse. He woke up crying just as the ambulance got there. You should have seen him scream when they put him on the stretcher. It was the funniest thing I've ever seen.

Emotions control your everyday life. They determine your actions. If you're pissed you might beat the crap out of someone. If you are happy, you might spontaneously kiss someone. Emotions make me crazy. If you can't control your emotions, you might have a nervous breakdown and be sent to an institution.

I would like to be an astronaut. I would go to college. Then I would go to space college/ In space college I would get hands-on training in the career field I choose. Then I would go to Mars and be famous. I love space.

Yet even as the assembly broke up he shouted, "But you're all wrong anyway! Pthtttthh!"

You need symbols to be perfect;
the message has to be clear,
in order for you to understand it.
You can't ponder about them and search for meaning.
Unless the meanings floating so obviously at the surface,
you think it's bullshit, you think its meaningless,
and that it is nothing.
We are like Yin and Yang, and that is just fine, that's the beauty of this world,
and yet you expect me to be like you, asshole.
I laugh, because I refuse to live up to your expectations
or to mold myself according to your desires
and to act upon improvement of myself to your criticisms.
You poke fun at what YOU don't understand and pretend I'm full of shit.
What I don't pay attention to you make me feel like a screw-up for. FUCK YOU.

I saw one day that you were using one of my ideas
I'm beginning to believe what those people said
That you're trying to be me
Take parts of me and make them your own
You cannot steal me from me.
You say I cannot own "all the good ideas"
If I come up with them, they came from me
Find some of your own "good ideas"
Being an uncreative greedy pansy-ass won't erase your left-brain flaw
Apparently, instead of opposing what I thought and ridiculing me because of it,
you actually envied at least some of my ideas
and wanted to steal them for your own.
You cannot steal me from out my eyes
You call your own what you try to steal from me
They know your a fake, and you ridicule
They know you're a phony, they know.
You don't want people looking into you
You say time doesn't exist
You claim to study Occult
You think you're a student of magic
You know SHIT
You can't see beyond the outer coating of things
how can you ever expect to become a student of the mystic arts?
You're a pathetic human being
and I hope you suffer at the hands of your own ignorance
You think I bitch?
Now I bitch:
You are a liar stealing from me.
And you say you hate fakes.
You are one.
Phony.

You've got nothing better to do with your time
than to point out the inadequacies of me.
I refuse to become an asshole in order to fight one.
I will not lower my standards to fight it out with you. ASS.
You slowly become the biggest ass on the face of the planet.
It's like your in competition with me or something,
like you think your better than me just because you're different than me.
And then you still try to steal me out of me
Maybe this is some revenge on me for being myself.
Funny how that works you mother fucking piece of shit.
You piss me off - you're supposed to be my friend
and I see you poking at every soft spot in my character,
putting down every flaw in my being just to raise yourself up.
Why are you being such an asshole?
When I complain hard enough it dissipates, but your attitude is always there,
directed at me all the time.
So what if I have fears? You've got fixations
We've both got problems. Everyone's got problems,
I don't poke and prod with your inadequacies, and I demand the same respect.
Your moron. You fucking asshole. I hate you.
You're supposed to be my friend, now what is this?
Rude remarks and cold insults have become common language for you
when you talk with me.
Tell you what - if you don't want to be my friend, fucking say so.
I had the courage to tell you what was bothering me about you,
why are you being such a pussy about telling me
why I've suddenly become the thorn in your side? Why do you act this way?
I can't talk to you without you being a smart ass.
BE MY FRIEND, NOT SOME SADISTIC ASSHOLE.
Fuck, man, you cannot believe how much this is getting to me.
Make it clear, fucker: friend or foe. Otherwise, your ass is in the grind.

In other words, the universe and this reality are just a self-sustaining but degenerating casual reaction. This explains why time travel doesn't work. You can travel through a medium but not through an action.

-Lioness.

In the beginning there was empty space and energy....

Well that was a really, really long time ago like a few millennia and is not relevant to my story. The story starts a week before one of my birthday parties. My birthday is July 24th (Leos Rule!) and the party was going to be outside. There would be a fire pit and all that good stuff (Here comes a very long explanation that really is not relevant to the story so if you're reading this and you think that it had no point, just muddle through because it really does have a point. You'll see.)

In my back yard there are two deep holes (two feet deep, about six inches in diameter). One hole is in the corner of the yard where no one will get hurt but the other is in the center of the yard. These holes are there for poles for a cloths line that my father will eventually put up but hasn't yet. So to avoid accidents, like people putting their foot in a hole and breaking their ankle, my parents covered the hole in the middle of our yard with a ceramic bird bath. Now the bath part of this bird bath was broken so only the base remained.

Well, my best good friend and I were "mac-chillin" in my backyard a week before my infamous party. Sprite (my best good friend) was looking at the bird bath base really funny like. She then blurted out, "Hey, that bird bath thing, it looks like a shrine!" (The plot thickens.... )

Fade out, scene change to a week later in back yard to my party.

Well, when my party had first begun, Sprite left to go to the grocery store to get a can of Spam. She had a devious plot to make a Spam shrine. So when she came back, she stole every red candle in the house and strategically placed them around the shrine. I spazzed because the candles were in my grass and I thought she was going to light my yard on fire.

Well, I met Bob at this party.

We chatted and stuff. I'd heard a lot of stories about him but I wasn't that impressed. Little did I know. Well, I went on a Dew run (Mountain Dew) [raaaaaaaaaaaaaah! - Rewired.] When I came back, Bob had built a small fire into a huge fire that was six to eight feet tall. Not cool in my eyes. So, another friend, Steen, had brought four inch plastic Thundercats toy [ummm.. I don't think Steen brought it... -Mr. G]. Mumra to be exact.

Well, Bob took this Mumra, set it on fire and put it on the can of Spam. So there was a flaming man on top of can of Spam on a bird bath base surrounded by red candles . It was quite a sight. Later on, Bob picked up the Mumra while it was still on fire and got third degree burns all over his hand. So this almost total stranger comes up to me .

"Hey, Lioness, where's one of your sinks? I need to wash all the melted plastic off my hands."

I freaked. I thought we would have to take him to the hospital or least tell my parents, but we didn't. He washed his hands and kept on doing weird things. For example, he climbed up one side of my house, walked across my roof and jumped off the other side. Lucky for him, my house is only one story. He did that just for shits and giggles. He also took the charred, but still closed can of Spam and threw it in the fire. Everyone backed away from the fire. Bob stayed a mere three inches from the fire. When the Spam can exploded, he got boiling, greasy bits of Spam all over him. and another set of burns. Merely second degree this time.

Well, what do dreams have to do with reality? Quite a lot actually. Dreams can tell you quite a lot about your own emotions and much more, but in order to gain this information you have to interpret your dreams. When interpreting your dreams, some of you would probably pick up a so-called dream book and go from there. That is what you don't want to do! If you were to do that you would be getting false information because your dreams are of your own meaning and creation and no book made by people who don't know you and never will should give you this information.

Well, you see she was, how would you call it, you know um, abducted...... by a bunch of those big eyed, grey skinned aliens your always herein about on the television. She was out getting her mail when all of a sudden a Yugo packed full of them little buggers drove past and then..... she was...... gone.

Alls I remember is two beams of light coming from the front of the vehicle and the feeling of being entranced, like a deer frozen in the headlights of an oncoming car, unable to react in anyway. And then gone, she just vanished. I could see and here everything that was happening all around me, I just couldn't move. The whole experience seemed to take forever, I could see everyone of those creepy little creatures. They were hanging out of that Yugo from every door, window and any other available orifices, Waving and squealing, as if it were some game of how many of us unearthly freaks can we pile into the Yugo to them. I stood there the whole time, thinking of all the things I could do to save her, yet I persisted to do nothing. It seemed like hours before they were gone. Then it seemed like a quarter of a third of a second had passed.

I walked over to the mailbox then and on opening it became very perplexed as to my current situation. The box was stuffed full as if no one had collected the mail for days. On examination of the contents my worst fears came true, the most recent post mark was dated three days into my future. I had been standing in that spot in the yard for three days yet was unaware of the passage of time.

I was devastated by my predicament and fell to the street. I must have sat for a good hour or so on the side of the road in a haze of shock and confusion. Finally a passing truck blaring its horn brought me back to reality.

The only thing I could think to do was go to the police and tell them what happened. They listened to what I had to say but when I mentioned the aliens and lights and loss of time they began to laugh hysterically until one of the fat bastards fell backwards to the floor, in a mad fit of laughter, knocking over the donut cart on his way down. The loss of the glazed and sprinkled beauties sobered all of them in an instant. They all became very irritated at the whole situation and tossed me into the street.

Arnold got up off his lazy ass, put on some shoes and headed out the door and into his car. He popped in his new tape, KoRn: Life is Peachy to get himself all psyched and pissed off so he could really knock some sense into this guy. He headed off on a lonely stretch of highway, humming to himself the dreadful tunes that spewed from the speaker. Trying to drive and digging his hand in the back seat looking for a map, he wondered just why that idiot on the TV wasn't yawning.

Well, he yawned again. It was at that time that he looked in his rear veiw mirror and noticed a herd of black sedans and unmarked balck helicopters following closely behind him. He failed to look in front of him, where there was a road block. He stopped his car. He was cornered. What the hell did they want?

Perhaps it had something to do with his yawning. God why did every day seem to be so weird? Arnold stopped the car and called over Agent Rogers who it seemed he was seeing more and more often.

"Rogers what the hell is it with all these cars and helicopters? Don't you guys have anything better to do?"

"Arnold we are going to have to take you in. You are a suspect of causing a world wide yawn epidemic"

"Before you take me in you might be interested to know that I saw someone on the TV who didn't yawn. That jello fetished freak may be the key to solving part of this mystery."

"Well," said Agent Rogers, scratching his chin, "lets find this guy and maybe he can tell us something about all this."

They led Arnold into the back of one of the cars and began the long drive to the talk show studio. Arnold let go and yawned. An agent put a gun up to Arnold's temple: "I'm going to have to ask you not to do that again," he groaned in a voice that showed no mercy. Arnold nodded.

The agent yawned. The two agents in the front yawned.

They pulled into the parking lot and landed their helicopters atop the roof of the studio. They knocked on the door, got no answer, and so kicked it in. When they did the talk show guy held up his hands immediately.

"Geez this guy is a pussy" thought Arnold, laughing to himself.

Agent Rogers stepped up to the guy wearing his nifty reflective sunglasses and asked "Is this the show about weird jello fetishes?"

Cowering in fear the man (if you can call him that) said that it wasn't. Then he directed Rogers to the taping room next door.

Agent Rogers thanked him kindly and put a bullet in his head. Agent Rogers can be really cool at times. His wife came running in the room, her hands waving above her head, "You killed my husband! You killed my husband!"

"No shit, ma'am," Agent Rogers growled, blowing the smoke off his gun and placing it in his holster. "I apologize I had to kill your husband. It's all part of the job."

"Who do you work for?" She demanded.

"An agency," he said. Arnold let gas. Everyone else began to fart.

"Do that again and you're a dead man Arnold" Rogers told me politely.

"Yeah right, what if that started another epidemic of dead people with bullets in them?" retorted Arnold.

"Do you know you can be really annoying at times? " grumbled Rogers as he pushed passt the grieving woman, nonchalantly slicing open her throat in the process.

Finally we got into the right studio and I pointed out the odd looking guy with my tentacle arm. Agent Rogers and his men promptly abducted the weird-looking guy and pushed him into the helicopter, where they laid him out on a table.

"What are you going to do?" Arnold asked.

Agent Rogers put on some surgical gloves and smiled. "We're going to have to frisk this weird-looking man."

"Why?"

"It's imperitive to maintaining the national security of this country."

"Maybe you're just a pervert," said the man. Agent Rogers shot him dead.

Arnold yawned, starting to get bored with all the killing. Strangely enough only one other person yawned, like the final gasp of a weird day.

"I guess you're free to go Arnold" said Agent Rogers passively.

"Great, mind if I grab a beer as I slither my way on out of here."

"Go right ahead." replied Rogers as he muttered something about the world being better off without aliens around.

"Well I guess I'll probably see you again tomorrow."

"Probably."