View Full Version : The Hitchhikers' Guide To The Galaxy

05-14-2010, 10:25 PM
yeah, i KNOW that Pythons and Hitchhikers' are two utterly different and basically unrelated aspects of comedy.

But they are sort of close. They are both in the English language

I'll move this later. I think NO ONE READS ANYTHING HERE ANYWAY. if the moderator needs to move it i have ZERO objections.
also, i may have been BANNED from The Hitchhikers' Guide to the Galaxy, which bites. It is a nasty knock. It was dull but I enjoyed being a part of it. I have a hard time imagining WHY I could have been banned. I have to wait and see...maybe they are just slow in getting back to me.


Burning Buckingham Palace To The Ground

after you return from your time travel experiment, look around. Did you kill Hitler as you planned? Look around. Is the world a better place?

Maybe there is more "reality revision" that you need to do. A fine temporal option would be the destruction of ugly, queenstenched Buckingham Palace. However, just as in the "rescue Anne Frank" option of your previous journey, saving the Queen while destroying that ugly old Quad might do you very well.

You could even be deified...

also, following THIS Time Revisors' plan will render you flattening that Palace when the king is -- well, just read on.

a. Set your temporal vectors to the year 1789. The colonists have finally declared victory over the arrogant and undersupplied representatives of the British crown.

also, relax. You technically have until 1812.

b. get some lads to gather some wood -- it is 1789 and there is still a lot of good timber available. muster up as many hard workers with strong backs as you can find, as you will be building a few ships. treat your lumberjacks with care and you will have a few tough soldiers, because as soon as you are done building ships, you're off to jolly olde England.

Washington, Lafayette and the other rebel leaders and strategists learned that the British became SHIT fighters if you took out their generals. This key bit of insight led to a style of guerilla fighting which the English scholars still wincingly envy and admire. the New Colonial Rebels used Irish country snipers and Native bowmen to take out key English generals, which generally produced a predictable rout. So: the colonists have won a key battle for freedom.

But you are being sent back in time to send a final crucial message to the Monarchist swine of the British Isles. Because you are a time traveller, you know that bringing down that ugly, insane old Redcoat will produce a truly strong and free United States of America, and a more appropriate and pure symbol to the rest of the world that liberty, justice and democracy can actually be established to the betterment of all.

When you finally capture that stupid, sinister king, don't listen to a word he says. Gag and behead him as soon as possible.

Don't, no matter WHAT OTHER Temporal Coordinators have briefed you -- eat the brain for insights. Your Chronoshifter SHOULD be equipped with adequate computers and also, when you get back, everyone will smell the inbred English BRAINS on your BREATH.

05-15-2010, 12:55 AM






episode one: the Gay-Space

we join our ongoing saga of selfloathing and unwashed alcoholism at the home of chain smoking depressoid and coffee underachiever Basque Etcase.

Basque is simply depressed. He whines and groans into a microphone.

(the part of Basque will be played by Mr. William Corgan in this photomanga.)

fucking commies. i wish they were russian communists, at least they know how to drink. or french communists at least they fuck like rabid minks. why, oh why did it have to be these bullshit american fuckers? they smell so damn nasty...unwashed filth.

Basque holds his nose and snots into a wastebasket across the room. close up/interior of wastebasket revealing a truly disgusting scene. close up...blurs...

and we are suddenly in a small room filled with black clad youths who appear grim and hurried, as if being chased by an oppressive force.

we watch for thirty seconds as the youths, all clad similarly in black with few decals, absence of bright colors, expressions range from none to frowning concentration. voiceover:

vox:there is a hope for humanity, and if there was ever a grim time in the world it is now.

the assembled book packers move swiftly, they flow around each other with the easy movements of people used to each others' reactions. boxes are filled with books and taken out the front door.

outside there is a stoop. we see two men in jeans and t-shirts, one shirt says (frag 2) and the other says (frag 3), these are Black and Gray, the musicians called the frags. but they are not playing music.

(frag 2) my throat hurts.

black(frag 3) mine too.

gray: (a rusty croak)
why does your throat hurt?

black(a hoarse whisper, sounds much worse off)
i was here last night screaming at the socialists. they are all deaf though.

gray:(laughs; it sounds tortured)
oh. (beat) i just have a cold

cut to- interior of room. Ruby Tuesday is standing at a table packing books. she has peircings and wears black like the rest of them but her red scarf stands out noticably.
(readers' note: the part of Ruby Tuesday will be played by chick x.)

does anyone know what time it is?
(silence, sound of books being packed. no reaction.)

hey, look I need to know what time it is...(echoes off of walls)

(agitated now)turns to Johnny Righteous, who is packing books carefully)
Johnny Righteous. what time is it?
(JR Ignores her; she taps him on the shoulder. JR WHIRLS SUDDENLY AND SCREAMS IN A LOUD VOICE:)

(shock in the room. everyone stops and looks around.)

cut to: outdoors. the frags are standing by the wall beside the gay-space.
in the background one tiny girl, clad in black, can be seen carrying an box of books almost as big as she is. every few minutes she passes through the background teetering and barely getting the giant boxes in the back of the van.

how'd you get a cold?

i think I have scurvy.

you kidding?

you know there;s another march tomorrow.

i was thinking of getting a brand.

(dryly, as if only somewhat interested in what Black is saying)

what kind of brand?

i don't know...it's really just for the pain than the image. i mught just get some scribble scrabble you know?

(Purple walks up. She is dressed in black but skintight revealing black her figure is sexy and slim and curvy in the right places. Purple is a notorious lesbian slut, opinionated, pugnacious and outrageous.)

hey black, hey gray.

hi purp.

(tries to speak, begins coughing fitfully)

(Purple has a tail. it swishes)
so what's for misery today?

inside purple's brain.
black: you know i really could use a drink. do you have any money?
purple: i have food stamps.
gray: let's get some food, sell the food and buy forty ounces of beer.
purple:sounds cool. you guys wait here. i'll be back. (exit.)

we follow purple down an alley and across alot. in a quick montage we see: her go into the theftway (the sign actually says theftway in giant red white and blue letters) with a handful of foodstamps, she comes out with a bag. she sits cross legged and sells to passersby
a two watermelons
a sack of potatoes
a can of ghoulash
purple: okay let's get some beer.

05-15-2010, 12:56 AM
my eyes turn to dust and fall out of my head over and over with a dizzying rush of feelings i don't wish to lose or deny.county seat
bjork is probably god. be kind to her
we met online.

how many times do people say that?

je rappellerai toujours la "caisse quinze" parce que la caisse quinze était un amplificateur. le joueur de guitare était shreddy et égotiste. il a mis en marche son maréchal à DOUZE. le monde augmente et se rétrécit simultanément. je rappellerai toujours la "caisse quinze" parce que tandis que j'étais forcé de crier par un sm-58 puant dans cette vieille caisse faible pour le quelque les PUNKS NAZIS de la guitare COINTELPRO d'autres weedhead étaient Doublethink, faible, boisson jusqu'à vomis, sexe boiteux faible, me vante, obtiens éclaté, j'ai chanté et ai crié. - je me rappellerai toujours la "caisse quinze" parce qu'avant et après la répétition j'a su que plus vous pauvre étiez plus vous deviez dur travailler et que là où vous étiez, un certain pinkape ricanant appellerait Dali un showoff, appellerait des showoffs de X, de Y et de Z pour révéler tard. - je suis allé travailler et ai joué le ciel ou la Las Vegas à plusieurs reprises. et non, je ne veux pas une petite amie. ce qui ? quelqu'un qui sait lire quelqu'un qui sait être impliqué sans posséder ou être possédé quelqu'un qui comprend l'artaud, et sait cela pour demander qui ne demande pas beaucoup. je sais que beaucoup de gens qui sont fières d'être stupides elles sautent vers le haut pour montrer combien ils ne savent pas et ne détestent pas les knowers. c'est l'extrémité de leur ligne, se lever de porteur de l'eau.

but it is so real having her laying next to me drooling on my chest. she's soo...well smart amazing all the things you say at first.
we did it on the rain coming her a true story...almost anyway -- i am changing some facts and omitting names totally. just call her S.....
so right now S....... is out like a light, drooling asleep on my naked chest. what we did on the train?
what we did on the train we did it after coffee in the station.
the conversation...
'so this is finally LushForLife...i feel like i have known you for all these years...'
her toes are so wild! what she's doing is basically pushing her toes up the side of these shorts i am wearing while we sit here at the

train station cafe. 'uh huh, yeah... you're cute. i am so glad we did this...'
bjork eating watermelon -- from 'possibly maybe' video idon'tevenLOOKlikefrank.com

i look at her as she puts down her laptop and her purse on the dirty cushion of the regional train. i look cause she is shocking...

her miniskirt is old and leather. i watch her as she sits down and slowly pulls off the sweatshirt. (you don't think this is happening if you are me..it's happening though, hard.) and then i see her, her chest is the greatest thing that ever travelled all the way across two states -- two big states -- to see me cause --

she is bending her finger in that 'c'mere' method...i do so...

she pushes my shoulders down. i'm to get on my knees in front of her.

then she puts the headphones on my ears...punk rock...that's cool..and she grabs the pack of my head and pushes between her legs...

so i am supposed to lick and suck this sweaty place...like an orchid...while listening to whatever this punk rock is? ohkay...so i kiss her specialness, i start...mmmph! i am harder and harder...while she plays with my hair and does stuff to herself...i lick and lick and she...


it is august and i am suddenly dripping with sweat... she suddenly --

her mind changes quick!

she rips the headphones and pushes me backwards...i am sitting on my butt, she caught me off guard! "leave the rest to me."

she pulls off my shirt and pushes me backwards. the gravel from the flor of the train, the rubber carpet -- i can feel them does it matter? she undoes my fly and pulls out my nember which goes BOING-G-G! we both laugh. 'a kiss for luck' but she mouths the whole thing really de-ee-p ...

whoa..she looks up to see if i am smiling. 'hope you're ready. and she climbs up on topp uf me, straddling my lap like a cat...that moment i am inside her...
wjehere it's hot like a dynamo, llike a volcano...she stares right into my eyes and makes a smile...

she pushes ALL the way down, schooches into my lap....'don't try to get away..' she warns me...

all i can do is nod..i am ALL the way inside her...

she straddles me in the huge empty train car. she lays her kiss on me and rocks gently in my lap...

she moves really slowly, lovingly...laike a spiral dance...
'look at the sky,' she says softly into my ear..

we are under the train station, in a bridge...i look and the sky is pink and purple, the sun going down..

'it's gonna be dark soon.'


good,' she says, and she rocks slightly in my lap...i am in heaven or someplace like it 'that's great. i love to do it outside.'

but we came straight back to my place after that. we rode the train without talking...all the nervois conversation from the train station cafe is over now...now we are holding hands..and smiling...her head on my shoulders...how wild she is!

the train ride lasted forever, five minutes, who cares?

now she is naked next to me, drooling on my chest, the tape she was listening to is playing as i just watch the computer screen...

she's so hot. the phone rings; i don't bother answering.

that's what machines are for.
back next
'um, are we gonna get the train back to my house?'

i am smiling and trying not to show how into what is goingon i am. 'i mean we could do this all day.'

'oh yeah?' she smiles and it's so crazy, like she's been challeneged.


later we are sitting in the thunder of trains on the bench...i am fingering -- and she is kissing me and we are sweaty, covered, drenhced with sweat ! -- i can feel the sweat though her cotton sweatshirt as the rush hour peope are oblivious passing by us...

pretty soon we leave the station to walk. 'i can't wait anymore,' she says...

...so i lead her by the hand -- it is august -- i lead her by the hand to under the station.
'these old cars...' they've been here for years, this is where the old decomissioned trains sit and are spare parts. the one we enter is wide open...

then we are alone, no one is around.

a part of her said -- we only get one life. we can't waste
moments, opportunities, love.

She was expert at tricking that part
of herself into leaving her alone
so she culd think.

She didn't know what it was, whether it was the
gestaltic fragmentation of her middle name,
if it was her rage, her libido or simply her inward
insanity that had held in

She threw it a bone and as it ran into the meadow of her mind to fetch, she slammed the door and went back to balancing element weights for the hull of the next wave of starships.

Work to do, you know.

Down on my luck in Boston, Mass. How was i to know my whole idea of what sex was was about to change?

The tall leggy chinese looked down on me from way high. I was sitting on the corner with my head in my hands. "What's your problem, handsome?"

"What's yours?" I stopped short of telling her to fuck off, i wasn't in the mood!

"Well you look so lonely sitting there, handsome...I thought maybe you could use some company."

"Well, screw you," I said. I was dejected. Boston's a tough town, and i was down to my last few bucks.

Then i was surpised by a soft hand caressing my cheek...she was stroking my stubbly jaw. It sens a charge through my whole body. "Let me get a look at you. Aww...what a babyface. On such a rough character."

I looked into her soft brown eyes...there was a feral intensity there and also...i got the feeling she could see through me, she through my punk exterior to the man under my clothes.

"You want to fuck? Come on big spender, let's go into that alley." She smiled, a dirty, horny smile.

I smiled too. "You're a..."

"Whatever. Just let's go. You got twenty?"

I had it and admitted it.

"Come on, stud." She stood me up, grapping the shoulderflaps of my leather jacket. "Today's your birthday...I'm gonna blow out your candle for ya. Hey...what's your name?" I told her. "Okay...this way baby face."

I let the tall whore with the long black hair and the low key manner of dress lead me to the alleyway. I had to admit she had a really sexy way about her. I was rock hard staring it her sexy ass, her curvy legs...

05-15-2010, 12:57 AM
We were in the alley and she was all over me like white on rice, humping, writhing against my chest, kissing me with an invading tongue that surprised me with intensity. Her fingers were like a thief's, undoing the buckle...sip! and my hog came out.. She squoze it in her right hand...
..then, oh, yeah, she was squatting in the alley, and she wrapped her lips around the tip, gently sucking, mouthing the head and providing great pleasure. I couldn't help letting out a little moan, i stroked the back of her head. In response she with a fluid motion, ugh, went all the way down on my chump, didn't gag just smoothly took it all in and then i moaned again. She worked me like that for awhile...i felt the pressure building...
Then suddenly she was standing, she was taller than me a bit and took my face in one hand, grabbed the other and led it to her pussy. Pushed my fingers up between the folds, she was soaking wet and dripping hot.

"You like the way that feels?"

"Oh yeah."

"Good. caus eyere it comes."

My rod was still swollen, bloated from the head job. She put her leg up against the walland pushed her cunt down slowly against my meat.

She pushed down with spicy aggression, her cunt was a steamy tight heaven...i was coming unglued.
i stood there stiffly. "Come on, motherfucker. Give it up. She stared aggressively."

"you know you like to fuck chinee girl." she stared directly at me. "come on, work it." She pushed her hips up against mine and smiled. I was under her spell.

I can keep an erection though. I drew it out and in in slow methodical strokes...for a few minutes.

:Oh yeah, tiger...that will keep me stimulated."

05:30 am - fatal blonde
waiting was her strong suit. wait, wait some more. stare. breathe. wait.

just because i am female he thinks he can push me around. mika stared horribl into thebathroom mirror and pulled her bra strap so that it hung out just a touch. so sex, she thought about herself, to herself. she smiled and the fangs caught the light nicely.

she had gone to the dentist that morning and had it doen. requested no anesthetic because pain was her lovermore than any pig of a man. the fangs were razorsharp.

i'm a stepping razor now baby, she said out loud.

a flush behind her. wow, there was someone in here?

the girl was wearing khaki pants with a matching satchel and a powder blue tee shirt. she had a pretty face; pretty nervous as mika caught the stare in the mirror. she smiled pretty to expose the new fangs; the girl left the bathroom.

and didn't even wash her wittle hands. mika loved nothing more than scaring people.

her date was waiting in the bar. she lightly washed her hands and walked slowly, damn, i'm cool, back into the small barrom with the ripped up black and white tile.

she was watching people. if she had beenwatching the room from the perspectrive of some other person, some watcher, she would have noticed that her torn black and white stcokings were the same as the linoleum tile floor, ripped up, black and white, elegant dirt punk style.

05-15-2010, 01:07 AM
she was a reflexive master of being in her environment,was mika. and as she twisted her fireman's cap, with the blue pinstripes that the shovelers of coal wore back in the days when such trains were run, and truned the ironbacked chair around the assume a manly stradle and give maurice a good view of the way her too tight denim shorts stretched across the mound of venus, she was sure she was in command of her situation. she smiled, a broad hungry smile and showed her new fronts to maurice, who stared, in awe of her.

so what drinks are you buying me?

in a few minutes they were both drinking hghballs and he was gazing ito her eyes reciting some terrible goth lyrics about corrosion. she was bored but she was happy because she was going to kill him in bed, in hot blood, that night. she had it all planned out while the dentist filed and chizeled and the pain shot through her skiull.

what do you thin of that?

i like the way your mouth moves when you read, she squeeked, like a cigarette smoking mouse. it's very, she lisped, sensual. i need another drink, don;t you?

he offered to buy her anohter but said he was okay.

great. that means the fuck thinks he's seducing me.

mika was one of those peopelle with weird chemistry. for whatever reason, call it magic, she had been able to drink vodka for a long time and not even approach drunkenness.

once she had been at a superbowl party and she had downed an entire fifth of karkov almost by herself. the boys at Omega Chi had been happy to use her and she vaguely remembered the pounding, the sneers and spitting, as if she had been watching it on teevee. for some reason the next morning combo of morning after pills and hair-of-the-dog had only been partly sucessful; she didnt; turn up preggers after that, but her hangover didn't go away immediately cause she--

he was rubbing his shoe with the square phaggy toes up and down her leg.

what a slime ball. this is gonna be fun.

she hooked her fingers into his belt loop. hey, look what i can do now.

she bit her tongue with her sharp new fangs until it bled. then she spat the bright fluid from the stinging wound into his shot glass.


he stared at her. he had picked her up at a bar with 185 varieties of beer from around the world. she had been in that dark punk mode, but the fangs were new. but he was strung out from collisions with lsd and psychoactive chemicals meant to offset schizoaffective symptoms; reality tended to be dodgy in interpretive weight in his life.

the girl with the fangs smiled and slitted her blue eyes at him.

he pucked the shot up and, while her thumb was pressing dwon into his stiffening penis, swallowed the vodka and the blood from her tongue all at once. then he grabbed her face and they kissed over the tble, he could feel the cazndle flame heating his throat, he could feel her tug suggesting that they move towards the door. yeah. finally i get to fuck her again.

in the foyer he opened his mouth to speak. she pushed him into the girls bathroom.

they stoo dthere, for a second, staring at each other.

you are the wildest goth girl i ever met.

she pulle dthe condom out of her pocket. sick mika had taken great pains to make tiny invisible pinpricks in the plastic wrapper of the household-name spartan warrior's helmetface logo and the latex sheath inside. here. take this!
then she went into the stall and closed the door. wait one minute.

what are you doing? but he heard the match strike, smelled the trace sulfur.

i'm such a bad girl, maurice heard her saying from behind the metal door. open it!

maurice opened to metal door to see mika sitting on the seat with her legs just barely parted. on the wal lof the stall somehow the red candle was fixed, burning. the inverted pentagram shocked him with the sugestion of evil, it was magicmarkered above the tank. she sat there, smiling impishly...the new fangs gleamed red with her blood.

are you hard enough yet? not too drunk to fuk are ya?

he wasn't.


an hour later they were screwing in his apartment, a Byronic scene of red and white candles, voodoo glow skulls and naked intercourse. red wine.

he was weak from draininghimself into her when she sank her fangs into his throat. he was limp inside her with a viselike grip as she aced him, sucking the seed from his loins -- the condom with the perforation had been unnecessary, he'd dumped load after load into her. and as his life gurgled from his throat into hers she thought, all men are pigs.

the end

exit the anarchists.
seven was enraged, but he was so philosophical, so calm about being enraged.

05-15-2010, 01:08 AM
being actually conscious in a world full of duped fools has that effect, he says to me.
etcase is my good friend. he is also given to being enraged, furious, outraged.

the whole thing is a big coverup that needs exposing. i was so done petending along tiome ago. love may not be the ONLY way --

that seems obvious; i say.

but it's the best way. i mean this is stinking up an ordinarily good world.

sho is always looking for facts; answers, proof. theory is okay to him but he doesn't want be deluded. believs in himself. what he can see. he is like theguy who put his finger in Jesus' wounds to be sure they weren't a hoax. he's been lied to a lot, makes him real angry. he is the protective sort. we are the anarchist abjurors.

i am bongo longshot, the only thing that makes me different from them is, well, hell i don't know. circucised? sho says, no, that too.

but we are the abjured anarchists. we gave up on the conformist punks who sneer hatefully long ago, except to make fun of and pity. seven feels sorry for them

'seven you have such a messiah complex that i think it is mutating into a simplex. you should put some balm on it.'

shut up, bongo. but we are friends.


so we have left them behind.

'objectively,' says sho angrily. like they matter. i mean they are real...but they are real fakes. betrayal pisses me off. they should be hung.

i point out that hanging is passe and lethal injection is what they do now.
'right. lethat lijection. and then they should be burned. and, and buried and dug up and burned again. they betrayed EVERYTHING.'

sho is an angry guy which is why he believs in freedom. easily a genius.

there used to be another one of us, but she sided with the betrayers.

i think she is a child of abuse. she is beautiful but like: it is all beautiful with your eyes closed, and she ended up defending people who hated her guts, showing what a liar she could be and -- well i have, like sho, my problems with betrayers too. she's got a heart but it is cold and cruel. the betrayers don't hang out with her either but she sides with them and we are the only REAL anarchists. why we abjured.

chicken is a special case. chicken, he is most DEFINITELY A CHILD OF ABUSE. RAPE VICTIM.

and he is as anarchist as the rest of us, and maybe angrier and more renunciant of the foolishness of society. he saw though it first but his soul, his heart are traumatized. he has even abjured us, he just looks and sees thoughthe illusions with the perceptiveness of an old, old soul. and he has compassion, as well, to match any of us.

chicken is a tough guy in a fight as well, i would not want to face him if he decided to cut loose.

but slippery, she is -- wel lthe btrayers won't associate with her because they hate beautiful things. and she is pretty on the outside. i cut her all the slack in the world because she is admittedly not an anarchist -- she's too shallow, and she'd be deep but she is --

'seven broke in because we are all constantly discussing her and the others we left behind when we abjured' 'she's pessimist. and of course there are so many who hate beauty that she has started hating herself so she doesn't stick out. ironic,' he puts his feet up on the table, 'as it may seem. but the self hating are no good to any real adventure in anarchy anyway. when things go wrong around the self hating it is because they WANTED it that way. it is ancient and sad. me i want to live.'

continued: seven sho basque bongo
i rumble when i talk or else i whisper. basically i blow of f a lot of shit because of what i believe. assholes and fakes don't interest me except as things to laugh at, things to make fun of. it is all a part of the cosmic anarchy.

people used to talk about poseurs. now they rule.

the good old days of punk anarrchy, of hardcore, are coming back though. the thing 5that makes the reveneg so sweet is i don't have to take any.

the fakes are washing out already and it is cool. they don't believe in anarchy: they are ALL POSE and CLOTHES but the real of anarchy, having fun, having free will, using that free will, having enoug brains to read or write a manifesto or do ANYTHING one's actual own self, real feminism, non propertarianism these don't interest the fakes, they just scream smash the state and stink HARD all summer long. they are punks but not in a good way . and they actually HATE real anarchists. because they hate everything.

did you ever smell something that was so damn stinky it made you laugh cause there was nothing else you could do and you couldn't get away from it?

sho kicks the door shut. 'bongo i HAVE to SLEEP.'

he works too hard.

i clutch my coffee and toddle down the hall to basque's room. the teevee is on underneath the door i can see the light and i hear they are talking spanish which means he and chick x are doing the deed. i won't be poking my head in. he is probably tapping it hard --

seven is in the kitchen area drinking coffee. 'what were you asking mihoshi?'

'i was askin the space detective if he had ever smelled something so profoundly bad that you had to laugh, so foul and lame that all you could do was wrinkleyour face and laugh?

'gods, what was it?' he is so relaxed for an anarchist punk.

'well, the first time it was elk shit. remember, i was in colorado--'
'oh, right you stepped in the elk shit and the people at the shelter almost lynched you cause yorushoes smelt worse tan people who hadn't bathed since--'
'since the leaves changed, right. but the OTHER time was a few years ogo when i was at an antiwar rally and the anarchosocialists were in front of me?' DAMN what a crucial fucking reek. that was the reek that was, seven, that was the reek that was.'


'crucial stench man i am tellin ya. and i ain't smellin ya right now and what when did you last shower?'


'whay can't i smell you funky kong?'

'good clean christian living, steady diet of women.'

'dig! well, anyway it wa rank. i was glad i had the ten foot pole they gave me. it had a flag on the end but i ripped it off and kept the pole to keep the stinky nerds that far away from me. it was ATROCIOUS.'

basque comes tiptoeing in from his bedroom in his shazam undies. 'hey, is this humor still considered clever? stink jokes are so 2001.'

seven smiles. 'you want some coffee?'

'i'll take tea i think. damn, dude, you need to scrub your armpits.'

seven looks slightly bothered. 'don't tell me i offend.'

'no, not you y wrascally wbbit, i mean bongo over hear. you smell like' he sniffs me 'trout, dead camels, old stale coffee that has turned into glue and a lot of other stuff. shouldn't you be lighting yourself on fire or something?'

i was suprised. 'i think i am getting anosmia.'

'go take a shower or something, man, the plants wil die. what's up seven?'

'not a lot basque. the water is hot anyway. good one.' they actually slap each other fives and onbce again whiet people shock the fuck out of me sometimes.

'yeah, well you faggots play pattycake all you want. i'm gonna go clean some cd's.'

'cds?' says basque.

'see deez nuts?' i cup them and give him the finger. then i go off to theshower. but he got me better.

trading zingers is part of the life of work here at the Phialdelphia Youth Hostile.

'so seven, this chick is cheking me out at the rite aid?'
'yeah?' sven is groggoly interested. he is fighting sleep on purpose to have lucid dreams, later.'

'so i say to her, hi how are you and stuff, and we get to talking and then i say hey, babe, are those spacepants? cause your ass is out of this world.' basque drops the teabag into the cup.

'cheezy. did it work?'

'she's in my room! i fucked her stupid, she's out like a light. wanna see?'

'i think that's all right,' said seven lightly.

'oh. well whatever.'

'i didn't say i didn't want to see, i just said i think it's all right.'

cool! i gotta let this tea cool: i'll be right back.

05-15-2010, 01:10 AM
basque tiptoed down the hall way while seven lightly sipped his coffee. then he looked up, he had been groggily dozing with is eyes half open when basque returned with a videotape.

'and this girl is gonna stay here?'

'nothing but the best for our little team, dean clean,' said basque.

the video was another one of basque simple gems, the girl comes in and smiles for the camera prettily.

they sit and do bong hits, fishbone is blaring loudly in the background. there's no audio.

after a few rounds of bong hits the girl begins stripping for the camera.

'wow, what a nice chest.'

'i know, she's not got a lot but they are so nicely proportioned. all women are beautiful. are they more beautiful when they are stoned?'

'maybe it's just you.'

i came out of the bathroom in my towel. 'oh, finally, i can't smell ya coming. that is so reassuring. i really thought those carnivorous pits of yours were gonna eat april's cat.'

when he wakes up and they are screaming
the sad part is how deluded they are. they keep lying and lying and it's so self serving.

lateley i realised that both the manipulative statists, the corpocracy minions, minion seems the best thing to call them, 'cept maybe drones, they lie to get what they want. but the fake out of touch radical leftists are drones, too. they call themselves anarchists but they're an embarassment.

they need therapy. they lie all the time.

when politicians and suits lie compulsively to get what they want i am used to it and maybe i should back off on that cause the whole point of teh Hostile is making things change, and change for the better.

it is Seven who ever so mildly suggests that maybe giving the suits a chance to become aware of what they have been doing will be one way to actually assert positive change.

'it's like you can crowd them into a place where they have no choice by assuming they are always going to make the wrong decision, assuming that they won't change. offer them an opportunity. throw them a bone or something.'

'bone...of death,' sho muttered into his cup. we al drink way too much coffee.

'maybe you're right in that, seven. but i am into this anarchoutopian thing for this reason, okay: i want the State to stop hammering me with crap culture. they keep making money providing the people with crap. And they insist that there's nothing other than Capitalism, and i KNOW that's a lie. It's all they want anyone to believe thoughwhich is why they back it up with cynical ads, why they blast everyone with their spin, that capitalism is great and who could ask for anything more? in the meantime: crap, crap, crap, and it turns people into crap factories.'

seven was nonplussed. 'of course. it's based at it's core on the production of waste. but why are you so militantr about things, bongo?'

'i'm NOT militant. i'm just outraged. and the anarchosociaiists aren't helping. as far as i see them they are instasis and their whole ideology is so tied to structure that, well they will go on calling hakim bey and noam chomsky nerds, saying that they THINK too much, and the irony builds as their little slagan shouting and culture bashing field trips fail to do anything but make all anarchists look like filthy people who have a negative answer to anything. they don't see that it looke slike they are a bunch of nihilists who want to burn everything down.'

this got basque into the conversation. 'exactly. plus they can't stand when anyone disagrees with them.'

'in that way,' i replied, as seven handed me the pack of camels, ' they are just like the Statists. and it's infuriating.

'sho is the militant one. right, sho?'

sho appeared thoughtful. he stroked his new goatee. 'oh, i don't know. first of all those diry punks utterly lack a christian perspective.'

'so?' seven replied, languidly.

'so they have a pjilosophy devoid of compassion. they demonize the other side, creating worse situations. and it--" whoop whoop whoop!

sho's computer made a noise like an old time klaxon. 'shit.', he expelled, tersely.

he got up from the table and ran across the room to the machine. 'no, no, no...'

'what is it, mihoshi?'

'ahh, fucking punks, they are sending me email bombs. why won't they focus on the -- arrrggghh ggrrrr...'

he seemed to be really infuriated. 'this is why we just have to fucking kill those shit ass nazi punks, they habe no fucking politics, they are stupid! WHY the fuck are they attacking ME! they are just nihilist! die die die die die die die.'

basque offered quietly, 'this is the Christian perspective.'

'NO IT ISN'T! I'm...arggh. You win. there.'

he came back to the table, his effort to compose himself obvious.

'christ, they can be so clueless. hackers should be focusing on the much bigger fish they have to fry.'

yeah,'seven said, ' i understand. instead of attacking the government sites directly they use guerilla tactics, it's like they are trying to bring the system to it's knees by removing the cornerstones...eroding people's sense of security. that is annoying.'

'it just makes me want to strangle them. fuck teaching them, fuck showing them the error of their ways like soft hearted mister bongo over there, he's just too compassionate. they don't learn, they're MORONS, and ultimatethy they become just like their so called opponents, the state. you know what i think, i think they ENJOY fighting the war. they aren't utopians. i see through the long range fucking pretense, their so-called "revolution." they just want to have an enemy to fight, and that is why they're always giving him such a hard time.'

'i think it's just penis envy personally.'

'then we're ALL in trouble. and i'm in more trouble than you, cadet. but maybe there's something to that.' seven began giggling. 'the deeper truth is that as along as they make a big scene of their opinions: they are opposed to capitalism, great, so are we. but they aren't utopians, because they think it's only a dream, something that happens in heaven after they die in the righteous fight against empire. bongo has seen through it and sees the utter possibility in anarchism. they've sold out. and, like i was saying before the zonealarm went off: they DON'T have a christian perspective.'

'why is that so necessary?'

'well, it isn't.'

i watch seven carefully. he has a method in conversation. i see he asks questions a lot to get the answers come out. sometimes i think he knows the answers but...he askes questions anyway, he likes to keep things open.

basically it's us four who run the hostel who are the anarcho-utopians. no one else has really got the philosophy that deeply thought through: it could have to do with that we are chess players. but i know chess players who are capitalists, and they are short sighted Satan worshippers.

we get all kinds through here.

05-15-2010, 01:10 AM
she thinks you're jealous
"so did you hear about ForniKatie?"

oh, god. "What. is he beating her?"

"i saw her the other night across from swastika house."

"what was she doing? perverted witch, anyway...god." muttered sho into his cup. "this tea is really hot."

seven was mild, almost bland. "she was getting her feelings hurt. i can see why she doesn't like bongo. he's way too nice. she seems to go for the mean guys. this time she was--ugh. it's so disgusting."

sho mihoshi and seven pistachio in epistemological armageddon.

"what?" asked sho. his voice pitched high.

"ahh...that disgusting old abandoned building that is across from swastika house? she fucked him on a crack mattress."

"so? big deal. happens every day. bongo's better off if you ask me."

"yeah...but he really likes her. you know he wants to be a daddy...it's those hips, he's..he heh.."


"never mind. anyway, she was fuckingthis guy in the filthy hole of an abandoned house and people were looking in, they were watching. the hardcore man took pictures. ya wanna see?"

"what are they on line? take me there."

seven is big. he sat in front of the computer station and tapped the keys. here you can see it.

sho stared for a moment. "well they are centrainly getting down. these are nice pictures in a sort of...god."

after a while sho said, "whay does he even LIKE girls like that? what a skank."

"it's the savior in him. he wants to make an honest woman out of her."

"why doesn't he just get an honest woman?"

"christ...i don't know."

"her legs are all up in the air and what not. what a scene."

"maybe...hmm." seven seemed thoughtful.

"ya know what it is: bongo, well, he and i grew up together, i know he likes wild and crazy stuff. i think the normal girls bore him. he wants something wild but he -- he wants a wild woman who will have babies and live with him and be faithful but stay wild. and so i guess he sees ForniKatie as his best bet. maybe he's right. sometimes people wake up. I think she'd be the one scoring. he could have, well, he could take his pick.

"once i thought getting laid was all he cared about but he really wants a female partner."

"like a sidekick," seven mused.

"yeah, right, exactly. like a sidekick. i feel for him you know cause that girl's insane. i mean look."

"hey, i was there. although i didn't watch."

"hey--just out of curiousity, why not?"

"well...i would rather do than watch you know. that's basque and the hardcore man, they are the ones who have made voyeurism an art. you know me."

"ahh, hmm right. You'd rather be doing the deed."

"whenever possible."

sho seemed mystified. "well, why don't you have a girlfriend around?"

"who says I don't?"

"well where is she?"

"why would i tell you?" seven smiled.

she STILL thinks you're jealous.
"well, that's rational i suppose."

"but what was deep was after, when she came out. the guy said he never wanted to see her again and he left and she had a hissy fit. on and on and on, she ranted and we all just listened. it was kind of impressive."

"by any chance was Slippery there?"

"No. she keeps to herself. I think she's paranoid."

"That we know. anyway..."

"anyway, Fornikatie went on and on. where are all the good guys. i should become a lesbian. why are guys like this. i wanted to say something...actually i did."