GOPHER

WRITINGS FROM THE RODENTS OF THE UNDERGROUND
VOLUME II, ISSUE # 14:
BEWARE OF THE BELGIUM WAFFLES!
Je suis le fromage.
(c) 1997, All rights reserved to the Gopher Society,
Is anyone really reading this?
PO BOX 174, Thompson, Ohio, 44086-0174.
email: gopher@washout.com

"I don't remember having forgotten anything worth remembering."
-Rewired.
EditOreoer
Rewired

Spell-Checking/Grammar
CIB Man

Touch-Ups/HTML Reformatting
Mr. G

-the weasels who contributed-

cereal killer
Ikon
CIB Man
flickerpiss nosescum
THE IRRELIGIOUS AGNOSTIC WITH A PREDILECTION
FOR CAUSTIC GRANDILOQUENCE OBFUSCATING
ALL BUT THE LITERARY ERUDITE

Listing of Innards

Edit Oreo by Rewired
TOOL by cereal killer
Inside by Ikon
there's a bunch of crap by cereal killer
Alone by Rewired
The One Time Adventures of Nefarious Bob by cereal killer
Power by Ikon
War by CIB Man
Untitled vol. 437,899,001 by cereal killer
Fanatacism by CIB Man
Within by Rewired
Secrets by Ikon
Untitled vol. 947,754,594,694,957,123 by cereal killer
Sputter, Chapter two by Rewired
Sooner or Later by Ikon
**intermission** by Rewired
Journal Entries by CIB Man
The Story of Bob the Lizard by cereal killer
D.U.F.O. by cereal killer
Pickled Velcro Suburban Nazis by Rewired
I reallydon't give a flying fuck by cereal killer and flickerpiss nosecum
Untitled by TIAWAPFCGOABTLE
Kill your Television by cereal killer
Even More Ramblings of a Condemned Man by cereal killer
Saturday, Chapter One: Gay by Rewired
ENDatorial by Rewired
EditOReo
by Rewired

It's late. Again. I never get this to Mr. G, on time. Oh well, he should be used to it by now.

Finally, I've got a typist: our very own Star-Gazing Dreamer has my folder o' shit at this very moment - and she's in a "typing mood." So you'll be getting writings that I've neglected (in other words, "been too lazy") to type since issue one or so.

This issue is mostly cut and paste. No, it's all cut and paste (and I STILL didn't get it out on time.... sheesh.)

In other news, Giant Eagle sucks, nuclear snignufricus butttoads graze on my lawn in the spring, and I have gas. Oh, and I got school - taking psychology. Now I'm getting to know the field from both ends.

I'm also getting fat, which my friend DTPG and my friend/x-girlfriend Claire pointed out at a candle party. And don't ask why I went to the stupid thing - I don't know. Claire's cousin thinks I'm gay. I give up - she's WRONG, but I don't care what people think anymore. I'm getting to that point.

Pizza Rolls mate on the Fourth of July.

I guess I'm in the mood to write things that make no sense at all - you know, those spontaneous things that pop into your mind that sound funny but really have no deep meaning at all. But wait - maybe they do have deep, Freudian meaning. Maybe they're hiding my deeply repressed sexual urges.

Or maybe something less sexual, like some symbol that holds some meaning for me but which no one else can figure out because... well, because they're not in my head.

I'm not in the mood to analyze.

Have fun reading this issue.

Don't spontaneously combust, either - it's bad for your health.

TOOL
by cereal killer

I look into her eyes. I stare deep into her soul. I look for the happiness I once found there, but it's gone. Gone for good. I can no longer hold onto her. She said good-by and I have to let go. I stare deep into those emerald eyes. I knew it was the last time I would ever see those eyes, so I felt the need to burn the image into my mind. One lasting memory. She didn't blink in the whole three minutes I was doing this. But she didn't stare back either. She looked through me instead. Beyond me.

Why is it so hard to say good-by? I've spilled my entire soul into her, but she just threw it away in those two words: "It's over." No it's not over. It will never be over. Dammit, I loved her and she just doesn't care!

I remember the first time we met. It was at a Tool concert. I was standing just outside the mosh pit, toying with the idea of jumping in when my eyes caught a glimpse of her. She was standing on stage, gave a kiss to the guitarist, and leapt into the crowd. I so admired her outgoingness. I just had to meet her. I pushed my way through the crowd and went up to her. "Hi," she said to me and then slammed into me. If I wanted to get to know her, I guessed I had to join in. So I slammed into her. That's the last thing I remembered. I woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and her phone number written on my arm.

We were together for three years since then. And now she is saying good-bye. Damn you, you can't leave me! You can't leave this! You can't leave us!

She closed her eyes and a lone tear fell onto the floor. It echoed through my mind. She just turned around and walked off.

"After eating a salmon, make sure to leave it next to the river for the birds and maggots."
- paraphrased from Late Night With Conan O'Brian
INSIDE
by Ikon

The ocean is what my soul holds
The calm serenity, the violent folds

Across the world the ocean trips
The waves that roll, the tide that rips

From crystal clear, to black as night
And all the while the two sides fight

They both struggle for control
The giant waves, the gentle roll

From cold as death, to hot and warm
Either calm and clear or raging storm

Turning, tumbling, falling lifting
Churning, rising, flipping, twisting

Never quiet, never still
I don't think it ever will

All this passion all this fear
So far away and yet so near

I don't stop it, I don't try
The day you lose it is the day you die.

"When climbing up a tree for honey, be careful when sliding down tree, for bark may bruise bear testicles. Life's not merry for the bear with bruised berries."
- paraphrased from Late Night With Conan O'Brian.
there was a bunch of crap floating around in my head, but then i took a dump
by cereal killer

the pain that i felt
tears away at my soul
until there's nothing left
but an empty hole
you've tried to help
you've tried to comfort
but all you've done
is contort
save me
as you break me
you have not helped
can't you see
if you walk on air
with a heavy mind
you'll find your footing
you will not find
a glimmer of hope
a prognosticate of pain
why do they both feel
like you've been run over by a train
i feel the crunch of bones
i feel my mind decay
and worse yet is
"having fun?" you say
please don't try to help
you just make it worse
your very kindness
is my eternal curse
you tear me apart
my heart melts away
the death of me
has been your play
in my nightmare
dark and dreary
i see your face
you still query
i have to leave
leave through the door
the last words you'll hear:
NEVERMORE!!

"It's irrelevant
I'm an elephant
She's a mouse"
- quoted by Jesse.
Alone
by Rewired
12/25/97

We're all really alone
No one's here for me and no one's here for you
Sad but true is truth, and truth it hurts
It's only you - and what to do with you?
Company passes, solitude lasts
Crowds diminish, leaving an individual
Do you fear your loneliness?
It's a comfort as much as a hell
It's okay, my friend, you get used to it
And the pain it brings
Take it from a gray lizard Scorpio
With solitude, the eagle
flaps
his wings.

THE ONE TIME ADVENTURES OF NEFARIOUS BOB
By cereal killer

Nefarious Bob is wicked. He's evil. He is the epitome of all things evil. And he is only in high school.

Our story begins in a quaint little town with a quaint little high school and quaint little people. Very quaint, huh?

Now this quaint little town there is only one road with houses on it; Elm street. The rest of the town is completely dominated by businesses. Businesses just pop up around here like flies... no... flowers... Actually, it's more like popcorn. Well, not literally, but figuratively. If it was literally, this place would be a death trap. An entire building just falling into an empty lot. Well, you get what I mean, don't ya? If not, you must be a complete moron.

Anywho, this town is full of odd people. And Nefarious Bob fits in pretty well. Now on with this weird story.

RIINNG!!!!! The first bell. Time to get to class. The entire school rushes to their classes to learn things they will probably never need in their lives. Unless they become English teachers. In other words, school is pretty much point less, except for the few people who really need it like computer programers and stuff.

History class. Nefarious Bob's first period class. He hates this class.

"Nefarious Bob, do you know who was the twenty-first president?" Mr. Ferris, the teacher asked.

"Who the hell cares? Presidents are just tools for the conspiracy. They have no control. The pentagon rules this country, not some asshole who people see as a leader and actually has no clue."

"Wrong. It was Chester A. Arthur. And I don't think your parents allow you to use that kind of language, and the school doesn't either. Get the hell out of here and go to the principal's office."

"Actually, I use that language where ever the fuck I am. My parents don't give a damn." with that, he leaves as the whole class laughs.

He walks out the class very pissed off. He decides to come back just after school lets out and blow up the school. Yes, he is insane. But he probably won't do it though. He never does. Always extensively planning devious ways to fight back the system but never doing anything.

The bell rings again. First period is over. Nefarious Bob never went to the principal's office. He just wandered around the hallway for twenty minutes. He sees Angela and Jeff, his two best friends. His two only friends. "Angela, Jeff! What's up?"

"Math class was pretty boring." Jeff said.

"I want to kill my fucking science teacher!" Angela said in anguish.

"I'll do it!" Nefarious Bob said. Of all people to say that, he would probably be the one to actually kill the teacher. "Let's go to the mall, huh?"

"Okay, sure."Angela said.

So they cut school and went to the mall. It's not like the teachers actually care. They're glad to get rid of these kids. They're just happy that these kids haven't burned down the school yet.

They get into the mall and start for the music store when they run into an old buddy of Angela: Jason. Jason dropped out of high school last year at the age of seventeen. He was still in ninth grade. Now all he does is hang around the mall causing problems until he's kicked out by the security guards. Angela usually goes in with his hijincks.

"Jason! What's up?"Jeff said. He didn't know him very well, but he has met him a few times when hanging out with Angela and Nefarious Bob.

"Nefarious Bob, Angela, and... Jeff, right?" Jason retorted.

"Yeah, Jeff." Angela told him.

"So, what are you up to?" Jason asked them.

"We cut school to hang out around here. So what are you up to?" Jeff asked.

"The usual; pissing off store clerks, five fingering senseless crap. I got this sweet ass portable T.V.. It was so easy. I dropped it in my coat right as I knocked over a magazine rack. They are complete morons. It's just way too easy." Jason was the master of ripping people off.

"So anyway, we've been thinking about blowing up the school later. Wanna be in on it?" Jeff asked.

"Nah, that's all right. I'm still a little fire fearing after my pipe bomb backfired. Count me out on this one." Jason said.

"Well, see you later anyway." said Angela. They all walk off, leaving Jason behind.

The hallways were fairly empty. The majority of people in the mall were working there.

Just walking straight ahead, not realizing where they were going, suddenly they notice that they weren't in the mall anymore. The walls seemed to have a blacklight glow, the floor seemed almost liquid.

"Where the hell are we?" asked Angela.

"We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto!" joked Nefarious Bob.

"Shut up you asshole! It's not a joke. We're really in trouble here. I think we're in some kind of weird dimension." Jeff said. He was really afraid.

"WELCOME TO MY DIMENSION!" a voice came from behind of them. They turn around to see who, or what it was. Standing before them was a twenty foot tall tree frog. "I AM SLATER, THE GREATEST BEING IN THE KNOWN UNIVERSE! I HAVE POWERS YOU'VE NEVER EVEN DREAMED OF! YOU WILL OBEY ME! YOU WILL DO WHATEVER I SAY! YOU WILL FOLLOW MY EVERY COMMAND WITHOUT QUESTION! IS THAT CLEAR?!" said the giant tree frog.

"Oh yeah, sure. That'll be real easy for a couple of anarchists like us!" answered Nefarious Bob.

"SILENCE!"

"Come on, let's get out of here! Let's leave this frog alone to jerk himself off."Nefarious Bob again.

"YOU WILL OBEY ME!!!!"

"Hell no!" Angela screamed.

"IT INVOLVES BLOWING STUFF UP!" Slater tantilized. It really hit their buttons.

"Did you just say blowing stuff up? He just said blowing stuff up. Hell yeah! We love blowing stuff up, don't we guys?" Nefarious Bob said as happy as a Congress man with a three million dollar bribe.

"Hell yeah!!" Jeff said.

"Just show me in the right direction." Angela said.

"PURFECT! JUST PURFECT! RIIIBITT! sorry, that slips sometimes. NOW, I'M SURE YOU WANT TO KNOW WHERE, HUH?!!! WELL! TAKE THAT BOMB IN FRONT OF YOU, AND PLANT IT WHERE I TELL YOU! YOU GOT THAT?!!!"

"Yeah, I got that. How about you guys." Nefarious Bob, the seemingly leader of the group, said.

"Yep." answered Jeff.

"Cool." Angela said.

"GOOD, GOOD! NOW, THE PLACE I WANT YOU TO TAKE THE BOMB IS... AKK UPH BAHH AHK DIS BLAH BLAH BLAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*^%^**$#@!&*^@$~~$#%^$^*

The giant tree frog just up and died. It was pretty funny, actually. The greatest being in the known universe just up and died before he could tell them where to put the bomb. Enough C4 to wipe out an entire city, and he died before he could tell them where to put it.

Angela and Jeff walked up to the lifeless body of the giant, twenty foot tall tree frog. It's mouth was agape. The two of them peer inside. A tongue flies out and pulls the both of them inside. Apparently, he wasn't quite dead yet. "GULP! YOU! THE ONE WHO HAS SURVIVED! MY POWER MUST LIVE ON! I WILL GIVE IT TO YOU! AFTERWARDS, YOU WILL BLOW UP THE..." now he was dead. And again he didn't know where to plant the bomb.

Nefarious Bob was starting to feel the power Slater had given him. A smirk came across his face.

He went back to his quaint little town. Looking around, still holding the bomb, he decided on where to place the bomb: the center of the town. He tosses it in a dumpster behind a convenient store and walks away. Once he gets safely out of town, he concentrates on an explosion and... boom, the entire quaint little town was wiped clean off the map.

The next day, his powers just left him. He was not a giant, twenty foot tree frog, so he could not hold on to the great power. The power had to move on somewhere, but no one could ever guess. Somewhere, in a galaxy far, far away, some giant, twenty foot tree frog has just acquired the greatest power in the known universe. Only question is, how will he use it?

"If you don't play to win, why keep score?"
- back of somebody's T-shirt
POWER
by Ikon
1994

Power doesn't give a damn about your skin
Your beauty, grace, and light all shine from within.

It doesn't care if you're white, black, red, or blue
Your dark and light sides are both a part of you.

Good, evil, what does it all mean
They say evil's dark and set good in a golden-white sheen.

No matter how many times you try
There's no possible way to deny

That of all the effort you've spent
There will never be one-hundred percent

In you of evil or good
The way some preach that there should.

Power you could say is the root of all evils
It's the force that pushed for many empire's upheavals.

What's the difference in the blood of commoners and royalty
Those that know would not explain it to thee.

Children climb trees and adults mountains to claim it
But it seems that no one can really name or explain it.

We study, dream, and work hour after hour
All in our quest of this feeling we call power.

Our attraction to it is strong
And it's had it's hold on us for so long.

Just remember to never stop dreaming
And try to control yourself from screaming.

Even though it's ends are sometimes tragic
Never stop believing in or feeling the power of that magic.

"Don't fight the problem, decide it."
War
by CIB Man

Why must the blood drip down?
Why is life worth less
when a cause becomes great.
faces not met,
still hate, and kill
showing no regret.
soon blood no longer drips
it pours, splatters, and is burned
from the methods of peace.
The peaceful silence of death,
the silence of lips grown cold
Bones, and blood, shattered lives
the glorious spoils of peace.

"There is a battle that goes on between men and women. Many people call it love."
-Edvard Munch.
untitled vol. 437,899,001
by cereal killer

i see you standing alone
so lonely
wishing and dreaming of more
so alone
can two lonely beings come together to make one?
so unlikely
you have never found happiness
so sad
i too am like you
so?
fate is against us always
so strong
friends are never there when you need them
so far away
you pull knives out of your back constantly
so painful
we are so alike in all these ways
so alike
love is a ball and chain dragging us down into hell
so heavy
try to fit in, try to be liked
so pathetic
bury your face; hide from it all
so afraid
drown your sorrows, drown your self
so dead inside
cursed to be lonely together, forever
so far apart
no one wants to be near you
so ugly
i see you standing alone
so lonely

Fanatacism
by CIB Man

Fanatic: "One who can't change his opinion and won't change the subject."-Philadelphia Inquirer

Fanaticism is a human condition where one person, or a group of people, is moved by a frenzy of enthusiasm or zeal. This zeal is often in connection with fervent religious belief, and can lead to a person becoming close minded to other ideas. A person's soul is composed of the rational, emotional, and volitional faculties in man. It is one's soul that provides fervor, emotional force, rationale, \heartiness and vitality. Both of these ideas seem to have some commonality in that they have a strong effect on human emotion and action. Furthermore, it seems that when a person becomes fanatic about something they loose part of the power of their soul because it is their fanatic belief which takes over their rational, and volitional faculties, and controls their emotional behavior. Therefore it is my belief that fanaticism is able to darken and weaken the soul.

One form of commonly known group fanaticism is in the form of a cult. A cult is a zealous devotion to a person, ideal, or thing. Some of the more infamous cults are Koresh's Waco compound cult, which committed mass suicide at David Koresh's instruction because they believed he was Jesus, and the Heaven's Gate cult which also committed suicide because they believed that a spaceship was behind the comet Hale Bop, and would come to take them away. What is definite is that in this form of a cult brain washing is used to abrogate individual thought and self volition. With the destruction of personal power comes the weakening of the soul. A person may not even notice this loss however because their fanaticism, and single-minded beliefs replace what used to be their power of choice. The appeal of group acceptance becomes more important to them than having their own thoughts, and the cost of that acceptance becomes the continued darkening of the light of their soul.

There is a second, less severe form of group fanaticism; the fanaticism some people feel toward certain actors, bands, public figures, or other things such as card games. Usually this type of fanaticism takes the form of idolization, where for example, a "groupie" will follow a band around to all of their concerts, and buy all of their merchandise, ect... However, it can also take the form of a strong emotional dislike for someone or something, as can be seen in the case where Christian groups fanatically protested the playing of band Marilyn Manson in "their" state, blind to the ideals of freedom of speech. In either case the soul can once again suffer because it is closed off from other suggestions or possibilities. It is limited, or even conflicting because of fervent beliefs which overcome their capacities for rational thought.

The last form of fanaticism to be described herein is fanaticism in the case of a single person. It is this form of fanaticism which is seen as the driving factor for many of the criminal problems in today's society. If fanaticism can be described action (zeal) taken on a obsessive (fervent) idea or belief, then it can be considered as the cause in cases of stalking, revenge, or most any repeated or elaborately thought out crimes. From this statement flow the questions of morality, and not far from there it is concluded that violent, obsessive, and compulsory behavior can very well be causes of a darkened and weakened soul.

It is clearly seen that fanaticism detracts from individuality, positive expression, and the wholeness of a person's soul. The fact remains that while psychologists and philosophers ponder what it is that incites this sort of reaction to something or someone, fanaticism will remain a very real part of this world. A fanatical person is seldom swayed when told of their fanatical behavior; usually agreeing with the accuser, or denying it fervently. Either way they react their is little change in their behavior.

"I walked alone by the water under the long, gray clouds. It was as if everything had died - a landscape of death."
-Edvard Munch
Within
by Rewired
12/25/97

I.

Treading upon this murky earth
I trace my steps far past my birth
I light the flame of truth to see
through the fog that distorts that which is ahead of me
The mud on the ground, it grabs at my feet
Slowing me down, so tired I can't breathe
I struggle for speed, I struggle for breath
I struggle so hard to get out of this mess
I enter a cave of fears that beckons me
Dark and slippery, it's death I see
Horror I feel as these images swing passed me
Distorted, half-true, half lie, fact mixed with fantasy
I know not who I was or who I'll be
Nevertheless, I march on in the shadows
Missing the pond, oak trees and grassy meadows
Back home where I felt safe and secure on my island of security
Now I am on a quest - a quest to find Me.

II.

I come to a room, and after a brief inspection,
I see passages leading in all directions
A table lies at the center, four chairs resting in four directions
I sit in the center of the table, pondering on such immense complications
Where to go, which choice is the right one?
I could go back, but where did I come from?
I should go forward, but I could stay here
I could put off, be afraid of fear
There are things out there, in all tunnels
looking at me, whispering in mumbles
What are they saying; are they evil or not?
If I choose their path, will I fall for their plot?
Days pass, years, millennia maybe....
still no more decisions I've made
I pace in the room, peering down passages
Hearing the whispers of plotting messages
I scream aloud, and fall to the floor
The dirt feels good, and I can't take anymore
I claw with my fingers and dig myself a pit
I have found my path, buried in shit
Covered with dirt and nasty things
No closer to finding the wings
To fly out this hole I've built for myself
My own little devil's pit, my own personal hell.

III.

I hit rock, and I can dig no further
I curl in a ball at the bottom, I mumble and shiver
A shadow drapes over the light at the top
I look up and see her... and I stop
Her eyes alone are enough for me
To find my strength and do this deed
To climb to the top of this hell of mine
To find her, to find her to find her to find....
She dissolves as I reach the top, a figment of my diseased mind
I'm hurt... but saved by a lie, helped by a dream
It's so wrong, but so right, makes me want to scream
Out of the hole, I run to the first passage I see
Feeling the ground kicked up from under my feet
I'm getting somewhere or nowhere fast?
I have a wasted body, but a soul to last
Drunken on this air that encompasses me
The air of ignorance demanded by a demon called society
Mindless on it's juice, I try to find my way back...
Hurt, lost.... need to wriggle free...
And, in the shadows...
What is that... that... I... see... ?

SECRETS
by Ikon
1997

The darkness creeps across the land
It squirms into the minds it can
As a fire destroys, it ravages your mind
Changing the images it leaves behind
Your dreams become a different world
Into your soul your mind is hurled

The thoughts grow darker in that place
Your deepest fears it makes you face
Next come the images you truly dread
Those evil places tear through your head
You can't scream nor even wake
Just lie inside yourself and quake

You think you wake then
'Till the fear grips you again
The spirits slash and rip your soul
They drag you screaming into that hole
You laugh and cry and fall apart
How long can you hide from what's in your heart?

untitled vol. 947,754,594,694,957,123
by cereal killer

burning sensation
eat me alive
have no concentration
have no drive
i look for love
i look for life
i have no love
i have no life
i think i hate you
i think i love you
your dislike for me
was untrue
this poem is beginning to suck now
and i want to end it
kill the fucking sow
and take a shit

SPUTTER
by Rewired
Chapter Two

Uh, drummer. Yeah.

Yeah, I was a drummer once, I think. Or at least I think I think. I dunno. Whatever. I mean, if I wasn't a drummer, I think it would've been cool to be one. Who knows, maybe I'll be one one day, if I'm not already one, or have been one.

Or maybe I was the drum. It would explain the memory gaps, disorientation, delusions, nightmares, failure to distinguish truth from reality and this pounding headache I have.

And what that old man told me last yesterday really screwed me up, I guess. I mean, should I find this Son guy of his? Or should I just, I dunno, stick on a stamp and put it in the mailbox?

Trust the mail service? Shyeah, right. I don't think so.

It's funny, you know, I remember certain things. I think mail service, I think insane postmen with M16s. I think orange juice, I think murder and long pointless court trials. I think skating, I think shwak, wah, why me, why me. I think politics, I see big foreheads, flappy ears, a lot of screaming and stupid slogans. I think people, I think insanity. I think Ritz and Mocca, I think my blue heaven.

I can't seem to find any Ritz. I'm wondering if they're something I'd simply dreamt. I mean, they tasted real. And no Pepsi. Not a vending machine in sight.

I rode off into the sunset and ate beans and stuff this morning. Shouldn't have. I got a sun burn and gas. I guess that's just how my luck goes. Yeah.

Sometimes life just bites.

Though I'm sure death would bite, too. Dreaming bites, I have nightmares, people bite, they're stupid, I bite, I'm a forgetful klutz and screw up too much among other things, and I don't... know how... I got... here. Uh, now I can't remember even more? I've forgotten more than anyone will ever remember. I remember hearing someone say that, but I forgot where.

And just when things looked like they couldn't get worse, reality struck me.

I was a million miles from nowhere, no water, no antacids, an upset stomach and, well, damn. I don't have toilet paper. Or any paper.

With my luck, it hasn't been invented yet.

Nunca. Nunca nunca. Nunca mono chica.

"Never." I said. "Never never never-- Monkeyboy?"

A seven-foot-tall ape of lurpy proportions with major BO and pubic hair on his scalp walked right in front of me. He looked dumb, and I thought I knew him.

So I threw a boulder at him and he fell on a cactus.

He got up and tried to size me up and act tough. The idiot failed to realize he was a full two feet--

Uh, whoa.

I grew taller. Damn, musta been those beans. "Now I, uh, Splunker (or something to that effect) will bash your head into primordial pudding, chimp-dimp!"

"Eh, well you're stupid."

"Screw you, orangutan wanger."

"I'm telling my mommy on you," Monkeyboy cried, and ran into oblivion. That pissed me off. I was ready to fight. I hated him. I hated bullies. Especially bullies who were seven feet tall, and thought they were cool and had the brain capacity of pastrami.

Anyhow, for lunch, I was forced to eat some more beans.

And then, to my surprise I had the perfect time with the perfect woman. She laughed, smiled, we kissed hugged, ate, drank, danced listened to loud music and drove around our home town raising hell. The perfect dream date, the date that would change my life forever, making me happy and coming back for more. She was mine. The prefect dream date. We gave each other massages, she rubbed me down to my feet, massaging the stress of the day away.

Then I woke up to find a land tortoise trying to bite my toes off.

And then I had another one of my funky dreams. It was depressing. Odd. Deranged. Stupid. Outrageous. Maybe I'll stop explaining and just tell you. Here we go.

It began when I was philosophizing with a tortoise sitting on a rock. He reminded me of a picture of some Sigmund Freud Dude. Anyhow, I relayed my problems to him. I didn't know, deep down, who I was and what I was to do about the knowledge I now I contained deep within my essence. He said to me these wise words: "I am he and you are me and he is she and we are all together."

I looked up at him. "Who the hell are you?"

His face morphed into a beast. "I AM THE WALRUS."

I woke up, scratched various places that had been bothering me, and fell back asleep into a dumb dream.

This one bothered me, and it happened strangely.

I was a killer ant in the army

fighting against killer mutant spam.

I squished and I splished, and in the end

I had slammed all spam. I had canned the spam.

I had crammed the spam. I had whammed all spam.

More came.

"DAMN!" I ran from the spam, catching the rays and getting a tan. I cursed and I cursed again and again. Woke up getting hit in the face again and again with the ceiling fan.

Ceiling fan?

I looked down at my body, it was there, in the hospital, asleep. I'm in bed, I am pale, am I dead? I need to know, but to no avail. All is lost, mother dead, cousin slept with friend in bed.

Go ahead, let me be dead.

Then it turned red, and I awoke with a sore head.

Strange, eh? Desterbed I, the Splinter. Or whoever the hell I am.

That's kinda my journey, my quest, my goal.

Find myself.

Find the truth.

No matter how much it may hurt, everyone must face their fears and learn to live without them.

"I am the Spitter, uh, no. No. Uh, no that's not it, for I am the Splinter! Uh, Sputnik! Uh, Shutter! Studder! Yes, I am the Stutter, on a quest for... on a quest for... uh, stuff."

I was a little more dazed than usual. I was in Ritz withdraw. I needed water. Lotsa water. Any water. I'd run away from the town, full of memories probably, to run amok in the desert lands of Egypt, or wherever the hell this was. I forgot exactly... why I am here... Maybe this... uh, this manila envelop in my hands has something to do with it?

Uh, yeah. Return address says: "Bullseye Cannon, Arrowsville, Wastelands."

Peanut butter. That would go great with some Ritz. I was hungry, tired, weak and--

Damn!

Monkeyboy just flew at my head, now he's throwing quarter moon-like boomerangs at me! Oh, they're just bananas. I think he's just trying to irritate me. I must foil him with my cunning, kick his stupid little monkey butt somehow.

But how?

He's-- no! He's stepping on--

Splurgktx.

SOONER OR LATER
by Ikon
1994

Sooner or later it happens to us all,
Be it summer, spring, winter, or fall.

Love has never had a sense of time,
And you'll want to spend your every dime,

On the person that then holds your heart,
And the rest of your body, every part of every part.

Soon you'll wonder about forever.
Do you ever consider breaking up, never.

You stay on the phone with them 'til midnight,
And they're the first thought in your head in the morning light.

The little things then seem so grand.
Their every word so sweet and the touch of their hand.

For the lucky this feeling never ends
But for most the road's filled with twists and bends.

Some days you'll be happy or sad,
Other days you'll feel as if you're going mad.

You want to be there for them to kiss and be kissed.
Then you'll see things you can't believe you missed.

You live and learn from your relationships of the past,
So that future ones will be more of a blast.

Sometimes the passion's so hot you get burned,
In others you realize the tables are turned.

Some say love is a fool's game,
But there's no rules and it's never the same.

Sometimes you're a winner, other times you lose,
One things for sure, you never get to choose.

But if you had it to do all over again,
Would you really change it at all then?

So if loves a fool's game,
I'm just a fool by a different name.

**intermission**
by Rewired

When the nights get cool instead of cold and the crickets chirp, beware,
for they are plotting against you and everybody else in a conspiracy with all of mankind.
Do not attempt to catch these crickets for they are dangerous
and have machetes that they are liable to chop you and turn you into ground beef with.
If they do approach you, do not run, but rather offer them a mint, for they like mints
and may befriend you and spare your life when they annihilate the human race.
Thank you for your time.

Journal Entries
by CIB Man

Sept.23 Fiction-"Fact distorted into truth"

I feel that fiction has a large purpose of presenting some sort of truth. Even if the information is not factual, some sort of essence or theme in the book relates to us as an opinion or way of thinking as a fundamental. What we learn from the lives of fictional characters can often be reapplied in reality to deal with every day people. A book like "Grapes of Wrath" shows a fictional family, but it helps us to understand a real part of our history from a view point that we would be unable to get from any normal historical source.

Fiction is good not only for chronicalling history through the eyes of those who lived it. Fiction also enables us to understand the feelings and emotions that people go through in life. This is seen in Milkman from Song of Solomon, who is searching for his roots, and it is also seen in the Catcher in the Rye, when the main character is dealing with family problems, loneliness and the task of becoming a mature adult.

It is not necessary for fiction to be realistic though. Animal Farm is definitively not realistic but it still conveys facts on human behavior and human naivete. In conlusion, fiction is an indicator of human thought and emotion, more truthful sometimes than any statistical fact.

Sept. 30 The quote "What you are in the dark " as a description of character seems rather ambiguous. For example, by "dark" is the author referring to a physical darkness, being alone and unwatched, or more "dark" as a mood of some sort, being applied to the description of a character in their utmost levels of personality.

If it is meant by physical darkness, or as being alone, I would tend to disagree, because I think character is best seen in full light, in the view of others. Character to a large extent is shaped through interactions with other people. Therefore to see what one's character is one must be viewed interacting with different people and situations to get the best picture.

However if it is meant more as a mood, I would tend to agree more with the quote. A good indicator of how a person's character is can be seen through how he/she deals with troubling times and situations. A person who stays happy through hard times can be thought of as easy going, while others might be seen as having a hot tempered character. How a person reacts to "dark" or troubling situations is often a good indicator of a person's true character. In everyday life, without major stresses and decisions, the character of a person does not shine through nearly as much as it does compared to how a person reacts to situations of great decision making.

Oct.8 Terminal illness is something that I hope I never have to face. I would much rather die during a flare of activity, like a parachuting accident, heart attack while having sex, or even a car accident than to be told "you have X amount of days to live." This I think would be especially bad because those days would probably be the most pain-filled and excruciating days of your life. You would be just waiting for a relief from the pain, dying in a basically humiliating manner, bed ridden and worn away. Terminal illness without euthanasic practices, in my opinion could be about the worst, whimpering death you could have. In some ways it would be even worse than being a "vegetable" because you would actually have to face and recognize your whole decline into death. Someone who has terminal illness in my opinion should be given the option of committing assisted suicide. If indeed we are actors on the stage of life I would rather be one that gets stabbed or shot in a display of honor, than to be some unremembered character who dies relying on the services of others.

Oct. 13 "To know what you prefer instead of humbly saying Amen to what the world tells you you ought to prefer is to have kept your soul alive." This statement is a sort of commentary on individuality. It means that one must follow what is in their heart and soul. To deny yourself and just go along with others would make you little better than a soulless robot, who can only interpret things as other people tell them to, people who are unable to grasp any greater source of correctness in action, or connectedness in reality. If you know what you want then you should not let others decide for you whether or not you should actually go out and get it. Instead you must decide for yourself if your desires are attainable by your own code of morals. The soul in this statement seems to be synonymous with several different things, the most important of which is individuality, and personality. These two factors, I believe are what makes up a person's soul more than anything else.

Oct.15 "No one questions my being here."

I disagree with this quote. I am a somebody and I question my being here. Also there are many famous philosophers who ponder the reason for which mankind is on earth, and what our purpose is. Therefore indirectly through their ponderings, and ponderings of my own someone is pondering, or questioning the reason that I am here. This also assumes that by "here" the author of this statement is referring to being on earth. If this statement were taken from a person trapped on a deserted isle than this statement would become more true in reference to why is that person on that deserted island. The only thing is that the person on that island must not question the reason for his being on that island, which is unlikely due to the fact that the person made a quote as to questioning his existence there. Therefore it might be inferred that that person had been considering why he was there. The relevance of this question to almost any topic seems to be minimal and quite likely wrong unless it were used in a story from the vantage point of an inanimate object.

Oct. 17 "I shut my eyes in order to see." Paul Gauguin

For me, a meditator, almost by nature, this quote holds a lot of meaning. When I shut eyes, fall back into myself, and sink down, deep into my surroundings I can envision, or more importantly feel all that is going on around me. With my eyes shut and my senses open I feel the small movements in the air currents, I hear all of the little squeaks, clincks, and rustles of all the objects that most people ignore. I can see and envision not only what has happened, but in my mind I can see, and influence my future as well. I can create for myself a world of tomorrow where I have myself act and react to things I know will happen the next day. When the time comes the performance is almost identical to what I saw, in my mind, with my eyes closed. Sometimes the vision of the mind can prove to be more reliable than what you see before you. If you don't believe me watch a magic show.

Oct. 27 Problems have only the size and the power that I give them. Mostly this statement is a true one. In general perhaps I tend not to give problems their due and as a result they appear to become bigger until they are eventually noticed and resolved. An example of this is upcoming deadlines for college applications. These applications I need to fill out and send soon, or it may cost me being able to go to the college of my choice. It seems that the bigger a problem becomes or the more stress that is put on a problem, such as a deadline, the more likely it is that I will work to overcome and find a solution to that problem. Most of my problems I view as being relatively miniscule, and so I am also by nature a procrastinator.

Oct. 29 Yesterday I screwed up my computer. I don't just mean a little bit, I mean I screwed it up bad. In an effort to make more room on my hard drive I decided to see what would happen if I move a very large 27+megabyte file from my H drive to a new directory. I then switched back and forth from C to H, just to make sure. I rebooted the computer. Big mistake!! Suddenly everything was gone. I couldn't even see my directories, my command file was there, and I finally had to reinstall DOS just to get my computer to boot. Finally, once it did boot my H drive was now my C drive and everything in C drive was wiped out: completely. Despite trying file searching, text searching, unformatting, and anything else you could think of, the files had just disappeared. I lost Windows, mouse, word-processor, the better version of DOS, a lot of memory form loosing the double space, along with a few games. I am still working just to get everything back into working order.

Nov. 2 "It only takes one person to change your life-You" It is not possible for a person to change their life unless they can travel into the past. To travel into the past, as far a our present knowledge contains, is impossible. People must learn to live their lives in a way that is lived without regret. Changing your future is impossible because it is impossible to change that which does not yet exist. The past has already happened and is unalterable. What we can do though is redirect where we are headed in life. This does not change us persay. In relation to Physics our vector of direction changes, but the magnitude of who we are does not. Only by reviewing what our path looked like in the past might we predict how the future may behave. The importance is not changing who we are, but rather dealing with what it is we have become. By ourselves we can't change ourselves. It is outside influences and our reactions to them which will dictate what our future holds.

Nov. 4 Where is Nowhere? Nowhere of course. Nowhere can't be somewhere because if it was, that defined point of space would instantaneously become somewhere since it was defined. Nowhere can't be everywhere either because everywhere is defined as being the collection of somewheres. Nowhere does not exist in space, but it is a potential for space. Space by itself can contain nothing. Nothing that is except for dimension which is nothing except in theory, an imaginary grid which can potentially contain something.

So the main question is how might nowhere become somewhere and vice versa. Nowhere can become somewhere by two methods 1: If a Nowhere contains something it is the somewhere 2: If empty space becomes defined in its dimensions and is recognizable as being a distance from something.

For Somewhere to become nowhere is more difficult. Since once nowhere becomes defined as somewhere at some point of time that point is somewhere for the rest of time, with two exceptions 1: going back in time and ignoring the point, or 2: obliterating any trace in all matter that that somewhere ever existed.

The story of Bob the Lizard
by cereal killer

Bob the lizard was a children's star
Up until the day he stole a car
Children loved him very much
He was adored and the such
He had many jobs in many lands
He once advertised empty soda cans
He made no money, not even a penny
He had refused for he did not want any
The children's love was all he needed
Doesn't he sound so very conceited?
Once he had a spot on Sesame Street
The directors were nice and gave him a seat
But someone stole it and made him mad
But his anger went away like a fad
But that seat was to him very dear
For he had a place to plant his rear
He asked for a new one but was refused
He felt he had been abused
He left Sesame Street and moved on
But inside it felt so very wrong
He had loved everyone there: Oscar,
Ernie, Big Bird, and Cookie Monster
But he couldn't go back and was very sore
He tried for a new spot, to be beat out by a dinosaur
The dinosaur had not liked poor old Bob
He kicked him and threatened to turn him into shishcabob
Barney had not been very nice
His heart was as cold as ice
Angry at him, Bob had not been
For he had been the better man
He had ditched his morals and went to tell
That Barney had cheated like all hell
But the producers did not care
Cuz they were tossing their bribe money into the air
So Bob the lizard had no job
He figured welfare he would rob
But they too refused Bob
Cuz he was not a fat slob
The children's love was no more
And the landlady kicked his ass out the door
So now he had to move in with his deadbeat dad
But those fond memories he still had
Memories of children's TV shows
After all, acting is all he knows
And soon he longed to be acting once more
But his dad said, "What the hell for?"
He left home with nothing but his goal
He had searched and searched for a new role
He looked and looked, but to no avail
He was arrested and let out on bail
No reason why that he could see
The police man said something about vagrancy
The real world he had been showed
He was now alone wandering on this road
These last few years have not been merry
In fact, they were down right scary
His career was no more
Who knows what the future held in store
Everyday he felt more alone
He missed the most: being well known
He devised a plan to be on TV
A devious plan that you will see
President Clinton was driving around one day
When his limo began to sway
The driver he had known only as Trent
Had been thrown onto the pavement
Behind the wheel was something absurd
It spoke and said, "Hi. I'm Bob the lizard"
This new driver had appeared from no where
And drove like he had no care
Cars were being driven off the road
He called him names like buttmunch and choad
But the driver had ignored him
So Bill went back to screwing Kim
When all of a sudden through the window appeared
The direction that the car had jeered
The White House was directly ahead
And Hilary was certainly not in bed
The limo slammed to a halt and a door was opened
Bill demanded to know what had happened
He gets out with Kim and looks around
Hilary ran over ready to pound
From her looks she seemed very pissed
She shot at him, but had missed
SS agents held her at bay
And Bob the lizard was being dragged away
Bill said Kim and Bob were in on it
And poor Bill had to submit
He was forced to do things sexual
Hilary was not very intellectual
She had believed his lie
And they sentenced Bob to die
Soon the lie was leaked to the news
Everyone believed the entire ruse
No one believed a word of his story
Though not how he wanted, he would go down in history
Now Bob sits patiently in the electric chair
Thinking of how this had not been fair
He stared so blankly at the son-of-a-bitch
As he told the man to pull the switch
He hoped that the power would fail
And that he could bail
But he knew that that would not happen
For it was assured by all these men
The final seconds were ticking by
And now Bob the lizard would have to say goodbye
A tear fell from his eye
But that tear would soon be dry
"Throw the switch!" said the man with a lisp
And poor Bob the lizard was fried to a crisp

D.U.F.O.
drunken unidentified flying object
by cereal killer

One day, when I was high
I took a glance into the sky
There flew above me
Something I never thought I'd see
An object so very shiny
In my eyes it looked very tiny
I saw it come closer as it increased in size
And I realized the government lies
Very quickly it flew at me
And then suddenly it hit a tree
It then fell down and squashed a skunk
I realized that the driver was drunk
I could not believe what I was seeing
In my pants I started peeing
Before I left I shoulda gone to the latrine
But instead I had bought Dentine
It floated above me without a sound
It shot a beam of light that began to surround
All this light hurt my brain
My bladder I had to drain
I was beginning to feel light headed
I was gonna do what I had dreaded
I barfed all over these new shoes
But they weren't mine, they were Drew's
Now my body had begun to lift
Towards the ship I begun to drift
The aliens forgot to do something before
I bonked my head on the damn door
It wouldn't open no matter what I tried
They pulled it open and I was inside
These aliens were not very smart
But I guess abducting was not an art
I got up and glanced around
And suddenly two of them had me bound
They tied me to a chair and staggered about
I tried and tried but could not get out
Then the leader walked up to me and said
"I am Yip, and I wanna examine your head.
They are Glug, Lear, and Ack"
I yelled, "Dammit, take me back!"
But Yip had refused
In fact, he seemed rather amused
They were gonna do something I dread
Yip was gonna cut off my head
So these four drunken aliens each grabbed a saw
In their plan I saw the flaw
Glug wanted to go first, and so did Lear
The ill fate of me drew so near
Fighting had been Yip's only fear
So he vaporized Glug and Lear
Now all that was left was Ack and Yip
This has got to be a really bad trip
Yip had a hairball and went hack
What came running was ignorant Ack
Now was the chance and I broke free
I ran into a table and banged my knee
"Yiiipyipyipyipyipyiiipyipyipyip" screamed Ack
Yip said shut up and threw at him bric-a-brac
They hit him in the head and down went Ack
He hit the ground and broke his back
I could not escape for I would fall
There was no phone so the police I couldn't call
I was stuck in this ship and there was nowhere to go
And how to get back I did not know
I might as well have a little bit of fun
After all, Yip was busy with my chewing gum
I wonder how these things manage to breed
I put the ship on full speed
And to my home world I said goodbye
I steered the ship though I didn't know how to fly
I crashed into a planet and from the wreckage I crawled
From the look of the crowd I thought I would be mauled
On their sacred ground I had trod
Therefore, they thought I was a god
Through the crash only Yip and I had survived
Now this stupid planet we rule side by side
Until the day I got tired of his brain mass
I took his gun and vaporized his sorry ass
But I longed for the place of my birth
So I took a ship and went back to Earth
I changed my mind and had a better idea
I abducted some girl named Gina
She looked at me and found me very fond
Now we are husband and wife in the great beyond

Pickled Velcro Suburban Nazis
from Pluto who've come in search of Toads
by Rewired
some time ago

I wish this evil man would quit sticking these sharp things in my ear. It really gets annoying after awhile. It can be comforting at first, but then you get agitated and pick up your Bic pen and jab him in the forehead again and again and again until this weird black jelly starts oozing slowly out of his mouth as he mumbles inaudible words incomprehensible to anyone (who don't know the meaning of the ancient names Yog-Sothoth or Nyarlathetep), including yourself, but you somehow understand he's writhing in pain and is very uncomfortable and so you soothe him by bashing his head in and throwing him down on the concrete.

He didn't really fall that spectacular the first time, so you pick him up again and throw him to the ground. He pleads for mercy. You say, "die you selfish arrogant turd" and pick him up again and fling him up against the brick wall of the school. You get agitated, he's not dead yet, so you pick up your books and leave.

Moments pass and you forget about this incident that just occurred. Pondering on why you did it would be pathetic and useless. So you beat his head in, big deal. Dumb insipid newt fungus nipple-head boy deserved it. You pulled out a roll of Ritz crackers and started munching on them as you made your way back to study hall, trying to recall just what took you so long to go to the bathroom.

Oh yeah. Huh?

I really don't give a flying fuck what the title is!
by cereal killer and flickerpiss nosescum

The man with one eye coughed on a cop
The cop fell ill and spewed on a thespian
The thespian spit on a bank teller
The bank teller pissed on the lesbian
The lesbian kissed the biker bitch
The biker bitch squashed the actress
The actress spilled her guts to the psycho
The psycho stared at the waitress
The waitress poisoned the customer
The customer torched the salesman
The salesman sold his soul to Marshal Applewhite
Marshal Applewhite abducted the mailman
The mailman delivered ET
ET phoned the fortune teller
The fortune teller hung the cat in the hat
The cat in the hat fed Mr. Keller
Mr. Keller shoots his wife
His wife sees a serial killer
The serial killer licks a mime
The mime beats the crap out of cereal killer
THE END

Untitled
by THE IRRELIGIOUS AGNOSTIC LONER WITH A PREDILECTION FOR CAUSTIC GRANDILOQUENCE OBFUSCATING ALL BUT THE LITERARY ERUDITE

Helen Vance sat on the couch in her Topeka home in early May reading a book. She hadn't been able to finish an entire page in the last half hour. Her concentration was broken with each rumble of thunder that shook the house. A heavy rain drummed steadily against the rooftop. She could see out the corner of her eye blue flashes through the curtains. She looked up from the book and glanced nervously at the clock... 6:32 PM. Thunderclaps tore open the night and sent shockwaves through the house. The couch trembled beneath her. She brushed the curtain aside and peered out the window. The night flashed on and off. As each bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, the night lit up in a bluish incandescence. Through the eerie strobe light effect of the lightning she could see the trees thrashing about violently in the gusty winds. Suddenly, a shrill filled the room. She turned her attention toward the television screen. The piercing sound was cut short and a voice crackled over the speaker urgently announcing that a tornado had touched down just outside the city and was approaching quickly. Residents in her area were advised to seek shelter at once. Fear shot through her body. She could faintly hear the wail of a siren in the distance...

She threw the book aside and bolted to her feet. Her knees were shaky. Another clap of thunder jolted the house. Then she could hear it.. a low roar. It was distant but it was growing steadily louder. She stood, nearly frozen in panic. She did not even have a basement... only a damp, musty crawl space. The roar grew louder. She finally gathered her courage and ripped herself from her position. She quickly made her way to the crawl space. She pulled up the latch, lifted the heavy wooden door, and drew a deep breath as she lowered herself down. She dropped down onto the cement floor and let the door slam down. She was plunged into a cold, damp blackness. The floor was covered in a sticky slime. A shiver rippled through her as she felt something furry scurry across her hand. But she welcomed such a revolting refuge to the roar above. The roar was bearing down on her home. Her home was being ripped from its foundation. She could scarcely hear the horrific sounds of splintering wood and shattering glass over the deafening roar. The roar filled her head. She blacked out.

When she awoke, she was lying on her back on the slimy floor. Her home had been ripped away, exposing the crawl space to daylight. The sky was clear and the sun was shining. All she heard was the peaceful pattering of water dripping onto the muddy concrete floor. Her hair was caked with mud and a pink, gritty insulation. The insulation filled her mouth and stung her eyes. She spit out the scratchy fibers and sat up. Her cloths were covered in mud and insulation but she was not injured. She looked around the crawl space. To her horror, just a few feet away the twisted metal remains of her little red Toyota lay overturned. Clenched with dread, she climbed out of the crawl space. She looked around her neighborhood. Homes all around had been cleanly swept away. Only the bare outline of their foundations remained. Traces of debris were strewn here and there. Tall, thick trees stripped of bark and branches lay atop squashed vehicles. Down the street, a heap of splintered white wood and shards of stained glass were all that remained of the sacred community church. The only feature to remain intact was the steeple that lay in the middle of the ruins. A grisly sight caught her eye: On the outskirts of the ruins, a severed hand cut short midway up the forearm lay bruised and bloodied still clutching a soggy bible. A sinking feeling plummeted through her when a realization hit her: Hers had been the only house in the neighborhood with an underground refuge. All the other homes had been of modern construction and lacked even a crawl space. The horror struck her with brutal clarity when she looked down around her. The mutilated body parts of her neighbors were strewn all about her. She was the only one to have survived the tornado.

"Sight for sore eyes, I need an intermission.
If looks could kill, I'd kill your television"
--Ned's Atomic Dustbin
Kill your Television
by cereal killer

The boredom sets in
like a stake into the ground
I stare into the television set
that does not make a sound
shitty, pointless, repeat shows
psychedelic hidden messages
I do not hear the characters
as they scream in jealous rage
what is the point to my life
the answers are a mystery
I stop to let them pass me by
into obscurity
I've ignored my love
and trashed my soul
as I was digging your grave
I fell myself into this deep, dark hole
I cannot climb out
I planned it that way
karma will always come back
you can't let sleeping dogs lay
now I lay here thinking back
and remembering my life long since past
again I jump up to claw my way out
and again I fall down on my sorry ass
then a vision hits me hard
you were there standing above me
you pulled me out
now I am free
now I am happy
and I will be for eternity
we will be together always
as long as I kill your TV
Even More Mind Ramblings of a Condemned Man
issue something-or-other
vol. none
by cereal killer

WARNING: I AM POISON FOR YOUR MIND. IF YOU PREFER
NOT TO HAVE A MIND OF YOUR OWN, DON'T READ ON

I needed a place to blerb out all the crap that is clogging up my head, so I write it all down thus forming these continuing mind ramblings articles. It is because of this psychobabble that I have managed to hold on to the last thread of humanity I had inside me, and I have been able to reconstruct and rewire the life that I have been missing for so long. If you only read part of this, make sure you read the really neato last paragraph.

-Conspiracy theory of the month-

Billions of dollars are just wasted away each year in the U.S. alone. Not by the government, or the C.I.A., or even U.F.O.'s. It is from none other but the ketchup industry. Quite a few years ago, to avoid bankruptcy, the ketchup industry decided to rip off the unknowing public. Have you ever noticed how it takes about 15 shakes of nothing coming out before half of the bottle plops out onto your unsuspecting hotdog? It was no accident. Billions of people waste money on ketchup that just gets washed down the drain. Accident? No, plans for world domination.

Last week I was abducted by aliens and planted with a probe up my butt where everytime I fart, fire comes out my ass and I just killed Kenny... wait, wrong show. The aliens planted me with a mind control devise which makes me think that everyone hates me, when in fact, everyone...hates me. No, that can't be. That was the delusion so what is really true is that everyone likes me and wants to be my friend, but, hey, that was never true before the aliens abducted me, so that isn't true. Everyone does hate me. Uh, oh. If that's not what the aliens did to me, then what did they do?

I stare into the moon as it reflects off of it the light from the sun. It is a mirror. Sometimes I wonder what the sun sees.

I'm just locked away in this cage they call a bedroom, never let out. Not even to pee.

Hah!!!**!!!*!!!*!***!! (where the hell did those come from????!?!?!?!?!?!?!!!?)

Well, it's January already, and I finally read Gopher 11 & 12. Rewired finally printed my stuff that I gave him way back in September. Anywho, reading all 13 issues in two days finally put something in perspective for me. One- I should get a life and go to bed, after all, it's six in the morning and I haven't slept in 24 hours. And two- I realized that my life is so much deeper than I have come to expect. In my mind ramblings, I have noticed that in the far reaches of my brain (I'm even getting my memory back!) I have found myself. Not the same self that I was living in for the last sixteen years, but my true self. I have pulled that self out and deconstructed the old one. In some ways, I have accomplished my new-years resolution; which was: (metaphorically) to go insane, and to be happy.

Finding nonconformity is extremely hard. Everyone knows conformity. You do it everyday. But finding a nonconformist is near impossible. Sure, there are people who call themselves nonconformists, but they aren't. They are conformed nonconformists. People grouped together in one group with same or similar beliefs. I am sure I will never find someone, only one person, who is a true nonconformist. And I hope I never will, because he, or she, would then blow up the entire world for that is the only way to be truly against everything everyone else does.

I am an impulsive kleptomaniac who just stole a convenient store.

I am driven insane by my mind running too much and I used to be a somewhat normal kid, but my lack of friends has driven me nuts. At least on the computer screen. In life, I am not nuts, only because I hide myself away and these words are starting not to make any sense and I am typing what I am thinking Annjfsdldfjfdgjjh;h;afjdjh? Hello there? Hi! Please don't be kind to me if you hate me. Be honest and maybe I am not insane, but just incredibly bored and have had way too much caffeine and I am blerbing out words that I probably don't even know the meaning of. I don't have a life of my own; can I rent yours? It is 3:53 and 23 seconds in the morning and I had 3 surge's and a coffee type thing with hot chocolate and swiss mocca which in all contained about 3x normal caffeine consumption. I've had waaaaayyyy tooooo mmuuuuuch caaaaaaaaaaaaffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnneeeeeeeeeeee!

If you spend all day staring at your computer screen, you will never notice the flying toilet fly by your window. (Sorry about the toilet; it was a hideous experiment with a bird and my toilet gone awry. If you see it, do not attempt to apprehend it. Consider it armed and dangerous. Notify authorities, or call me directly at: 555-POOP [or for the complete morons: 555-7667] Flying toilets are no joke. Also, be warned of improper breeding. Not only is this inappropriate for young children, but baby toilets can easily sneak into your house at night and drive you and your offspring [now and future] sanity impaired with excessive flushing.)

*****THE TIME IS NOW NINE P.M. DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR TOILET IS?*****

SATURDAY
by Rewired

-Chapter I-
Gay.

It was late in the evening that Saturday when I got that craving for a sub - the craving I so often got while on break at work; the craving I always answered, which had caused me to gain ten to fifteen pounds since I began working at that grocery store.

Yet Subway was right across the square, and I hadn't had supper yet - come to think of it, I hadn't had breakfast or lunch either. I stepped through the doors, which squealed open automatically, nodded a greeting to the scuzzy kid drinking a Dew and leaning on the soda machine, and plodded my feet across the parking lot. It was bitter cold outside, and I tried to will away the wind, to no avail.

I shuffled through my pocket and dug out my wallet. I sifted through it and found that I had plenty - much more money than I should have in my wallet. Sad part is, I waste most of it at Subway. It's good food, though, even if it gives me a hell of a belly.

I enter the door of Subway looking for one of the attractive girls behind the counter. I found one, a new one, and for a moment I thought she looked like somebody I had known quite a bit ago. Then it hit me.

Damn.

I nearly shit myself when I realized who it really was. My heart jumped in my throat, and throbbed there, and I couldn't seem to swallow it so it'd get back down into my chest and go about it's buisness there.

I knew I wasn't dreaming when her eyes met mine - my mind could never put together a fantasy that grand and spectacular. This was real. It was her.

Dez.

She glanced at me for only a moment, smiling behind the counter and going on with making the sub for the round lady a few feet away from me. As she continued making that sandwich, my eyes never left her. I wasn't even hungry anymore - she occupied my mind. She hadn't changed, it seemed, at all in over the year it had been since I'd last seen her. The only thing that had probably changed, and this was just a guess, was that a boyfriend had been added to the picture. She didn't have one at the time I had known her, but a girl as attractive as her undoubtedly had one by now.

As I gawked at her I cursed myself again and again for letting my chance with her slip through my fingers like sand, caught in the open winds of time, leaving me holding nothing but a lost dream I could cry and sob over - which, I realized, I was doing quite well.

When she had finished her sub and I had cooled down taking the image of her in, she came up to me and greeted me with one of her infamous smiles, with that usual twinkle in her eye and a sly sound to her voice as she spoke: "Hi, Ty."

"Hey," I said, "How are you?" I damned myself for not coming up with something more intelligent to say. Conversation wasn't one of my better qualities, as this instance clearly shows. I was just so shocked to see her, and, of course, instantly anxious. Why was I getting so helplessly nervous? My hands were clammy, my teeth were clenched, my legs were shaking, a cold sweat overcame my whole body... I was instantly paranoid: did I look bad? Should I have shaved? What should I say? How should I say it?

"Pretty good," she responded, and it felt better that her answer was no more deep than my mindless question.

Just order food, I told myself.

"What'll ya have?" She asked.

A girl came up behind her. "A pizza sub, foot long on white." She said, taking the words right out of my mouth.

"You know him?" Dez asked.

"I come in here all the time." I said.

"You come in here all the time and I haven't seen you? I've been here a month."

I found that odd. Our schedules had been conflicting for an entire month. Was their some grand purpose for our remeeting on this day, or was it just a random chance?

She made my sub, asking if I wanted cheese. I told her I wanted hot and mild peppers and onions and a small Pepsi. I took my stuff and said, rather stupidly, "Well, write me or something."

"You still have a phone, don't you?"

"Well, yeah, you can call me, too." Yeah, yeah, you can call me. God, I'm such an idiot. Why can't I play out the great scenarios I create in my head day after day? Why can't things work out like I WANT them to for a change? Maybe I ask too many pointless questions.

I sat down and looked at my sub. I bought it, but I just wasn't hungry anymore. I needed caffeine, though, so I sipped at my Pepsi. The straw had a hole in it, and that sucked... well, it didn't - that was the problem.... whatever.

I new then that my mind was messed up. I couldn't see straight, walk straight, think straight. I was dizzy. My brain felt as if it was about to implode. The reason seeing her shook me up so much is beyond me.

Then I began getting paranoid. What were they talking about? I could hear them talking. They where whispering, dammit, and it was about me and it couldn't be good. What could it be? My mind knew the answer. I didn't want to get into it, I didn't want to reflect back on the past as I so often did, but...

It was helpless.

I remembered the night I got fired from the convenience store where I had worked with Dez. I'd wanted to leave on time, and the boss ousted me by the time I got home, right over the phone. "Don't bother coming in tomorrow" was her exact words.

Later I found out, through a cashier friend of mine that worked there, that the old lady who fired me did it because she thought I was gay. And why did she come to this bizarre and, let it be said, FAULTY conclusion? Because she swore she saw two friends of mine - male friends, that is - walk into the store holding hands. And since they were gay, and were my friends, I must be gay.

So I knew what they where whispering about: that I was gay.

I shook my head - that was enough. I was being paranoid, overly paranoid. I liked her, and I was nervous due to my immense caffeine intake early this morning.

"Ty," the one girl whose name I didn't know said, "are you gay?"

"Carol!" Dez whined.

I slapped my forehead. Just when I'm convinced I'm nuts, somebody does something to give credence to my mindless paranoia. I wasted no time in answering.

"No." I said.

"Then why did you never ask her out?"

I had to smile. Good question. "I'm just a nervous guy, and I guess I'm kind of shy. I just never built up enough courage to ask her out. Does that make me homosexual?"

Carol looked at me. "Your ex-boss said you were gay."

"My ex-boss takes tabloids seriously." I shook my head. "Dez, you didn't actually take that rumor seriously, did you?"

I looked up at her. They were pleading eyes I turned to her, eyes that spoke clearly "say to me you didn't believe this untrue rumor about me."

Her look, and the sort of shrug she gave, said all that needed to be said: she had taken it seriously.

"Geez... " I grumbled.

"Well, you never... you know, flirted back or anything."

"I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW I HELD GREAT EYE CONTACT."

"You never wrote me, never called me, never... "

"Look, I called your house twice and even showed up at your house after I got fired. That was attempting at making contact with you. I never got a call back. If anything's a turn off, that is."

She looked to the ground for a moment and then back up at me, saying matter-of-factly: "I've got a boyfriend now, and I'm happy with him."

"And I'm happy for you." I said. "I'm just stating, for the record, that I'm a neurotic, shy human being who was - and is - extremely attracted to you."

I saw her eyes. They didn't hold that same flare they used to. She had liked me, but that was long ago, and it was over now. I'd lost my chance.

The heart that once took residence in my throat now sunk and became a terrifying knot in the pit of my stomach.

Just then the door swung open. It could've been anybody - CIA agents, the president of the United States, a masked madman intent on robbing this place, or an ordinary weird resident of this shitthole of a town.

But no, it has to be Kel.

Kel rhymes with hell, which is what she usually gives me. She's the girlfriend of one of my good friends, Jode, and is my official evil tormentor. "There you are." She said. "They're looking all over for you."

The chance was open, and the meeting was inevitable, so I thought: what the hell? "Kel, meet Dez, Dez, Kel - and this is Carol."

They exchanged hellos.

"Is Ty gay?" Carol asked.

"Carol!" Dez yelled.

"You know, you're quite a character." I told her.

"No," Kel said, "At least, I don't think so. He IS afraid to be naked."

"You're afraid to be naked?" Dez and Carol said in sync, turning their heads to look at me in the same frightening way.

"NO, I'M NOT AFRAID TO BE NAKED."

"Why do you say he's afraid to be naked?" Carol queried.

Kel shurgged, "I dunno, look at him - does he come off to you as a naked person. At all?"

They both nodded. "Good point." Carol said.

I shook my head. "I can't believe this. You're all crazy. I have enough existent psychological problems, and here you are making up more. PICK ON THE ONES THAT EXIST, DAMMIT."

"You just don't seem naked, Ty." Kel said.

Nathan walked in along with Jode. Nathan looked at me. "There you are. What's going on?"

I shrugged. "I'm gay and not naked."

There was a pause.

A long pause.

Nathan nodded. "That's nice."

Jode started to laugh, and I pointed at him and gave him as stern of a look at I could. "Look, for all I know you and Nathan could've been the friends of mine she saw walking in the door holding hands, so just LAY OFF."

"If you're not gay, why do you get so heated about it?" Carol said.

I turned to her and looked at her dead in the eye. "I am completely confident in my masculinity," and I looked at Kel for a moment - "and in my occasional nakedness," then I looked back at Carol and continued, "I just find it hurtful when people judge me without knowing me."

"These are your friends," Dez said, "and they don't know you?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Oh, that's bull." Kel said.

Jode said, "Personally, I think I know you pretty well."

"You guys know almost nothing about me. All you know is the mask I put up for you - all you. Inside I could be a cold-blood killer or the most intelligent man on earth. I could be almost nothing like what I seem to be like, which is an irrational, right-brained -"

"... homosexual?" Carol said.

I looked at her with a snarl. "I find your fascination with the topic somewhat distressing - maybe your insistence on finding me gay comes from the deeply-suppressed knowledge that you, yourself, are gay."

"Been reading those books on psychology, Ty?" Kel broke in.

Carol got kind of red in the face. "I'm not gay."

"Maybe you are." I said. I pointed my thumb toward Dez. "Do you find her attractive?"

She shook her head. "Yes, didn't you know we're secret lovers?" They both lovingly put their arms around each other and kissed each other lightly on the lips.

Nathan shook his head.

I smiled. "How can you women do that?"

Carol patted me on the back. "We're confident in our feminism."

"No, really - why can women pretend they're lesbians with such ease?"

"It's just gross if guys would do it." Kel said.

"From a personal standpoint, I agree," I said, "and it isn't disgusting when women do it?"

"I don't find it too distressing, gay-boy." Carol broke in.

I clenched my teeth toward her. "I am NOT gay." I said.

She smiled back at me. "I find your insistent negativity toward the suggestion that your gay as a clear indication that you're deeply repressing your homosexuality."

"I think you like mocking me." I said.

"Ty's gay." Nathan said.

"How would you know?" Kel said. "Nathan, are you gay as well?"

"No." He said.

"You guys lovers?"

"I'm sorry, I don't find Nathan attractive, nor do I find any male of my species - or any other species for that matter - attractive." I said.

"What bugs you so much about homosexuality?" Carol asked me, finally in an honest tone.

I shrugged. "I find no problem with it as long as their aren't males hitting on me. They can go about and do what they want - that's their business - as long as they don't affect me in any direct way, I'm fine with it. I just cannot live their lifestyle and share the feelings they have with those of the identical sex."

"Ty, this is worse than one of our conversations." Jode said.

"You guys talk like this a lot?" Carol asked.

"Well all do." I said. "Though not usually on this topic. Nakedness has been brought up, but usually our conversations cover time travel or multiple universes or the existence of Nothing."

She rolled her eyes. "You guys need a hobby."

"Talking can be a hobby." Jode said.

"So, anyway," I said, wrapping up my sub and sipping out the straw with the hole in it again and turning to my friends, "are we leaving, or what?"

Jode said. "Yeah, we're supposed to meet others up at the coffee shop in about ten minutes."

"Coffee shop?" Dez said.

"Yeah," I said. "If you guys are in the mood to talk we'll be up there until about eleven."

"Cool." Carol said, and she looked at me in an odd way that sent a shockwave through me. I just kind of smiled and we held our gaze for a moment.

"Well, let's go." Nathan said. I picked up my Pepsi and followed them out of the door.

"What about your sub?" Dez said as I began to walk away, having left it on the table.

I shook my head. "Not hungry." I said.

I wish I would've known that before I'd walked in there.

Then, I wondered: was Carol involved?

ENDatorial
by Rewired

It's been awhile since I left something at the end of the Gopher. Remember in the old days, when I used to do this all the time? Where I used to bitch at you about getting in submissions and giving me shit for that Volume X deal that never really made it? I miss the old days. Now I'm fat, hairy, and have to be a part of this "real world" thing that sucks, which involves paying bills and getting a job. The only good thing about it so far is this "tax refund" thing I don't completely understand yet. Oh well.

So here I am, nineteen, bitching about my life, STILL. Well, I'm a little more sane, am I not? I mean, it's been months since I've whined about aliens and government conspiracy and alternate planes of existence. It's also been months since I've had a good, deep, philosophical discussion. That kinda sucks.

I wonder what's gonna happen to the Gopher once CIB and DTPG go away to college. Lioness too. Will Gopher fade into existence? And what happens if I go away to college? Will I have to give up my job of so-called editing for the Gopher? *sigh* I hate the future. I hate how this world is always in a constant state of flux.

Well, I guess it's time to bid you farewell until next time, which will definitely come unless there's some worldwide apocalypse and we all perish and end up underwater due to some comet hitting the earth or some shifting of the earth's poles or something. Oh, that's the year 1999. Also the year that Nostrodamus predicted that the "great king" will come from the sky. I have a deal with CIB Man that the "great king" will actually be a UFO. It's twenty bucks.

I hope I loose.

G'night.

The Gopher is (c) 1998 by Rewired. Anyone who says otherwise is condemned to prison, in which they will be tied to a wooden pole with their eyelids stapled open as they watch repeated videos of the Spice Girls and Hanson over and over until their brain implodes.

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