Passing Time (1232 hits)
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Submitted by UberMadness! (View user info) at 2005-08-02 01:20:02 EDT
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Entry 1
I haven't slept in five fucking days. You wouldn't know that fact unless you were me.It started on Sunday. I picked up some dumb slut from the Heatwave across the way. We drank it up there, then when the conversation got so bad that I was peeling off beer labels we waltzed over to my living room, then my bathroom, then my bed. I was the man that night, but that's always the case, you know. I'm not going to bore you with the details because if you're older than 16 you know them already. We had sex. Then we fell asleep. Or, should I say, she fell asleep.
I closed my eyes and I felt the wave of sleep hit me. And then it was morning. 7:36, to be exact, but it felt like I had been asleep for, like, ten seconds. Time had skipped me. How else can I fucking describe this? Time skipped right the fuck over me because I was still tired and I had slept for a microminute and yet there I was with this dumb slut still in my bed and it was 7:36 and God damn it I don't know what happened.
I kicked her out in a flurry of lace panties and blonde hair. She was pissed and vowed never to speak to me again, but I didn't care because that was my agenda anyway. I called my brother Tom because that was the only person who would be up at this hour. Tom doesn't sleep at 7:36 in the morning any night. He runs a strip club across town and he's lucky if he gets to bed by 11 a.m. One o'clock in the afternoon is a late night for him. He's the reason bars started opening at sunrise.
"Heeeeeeey, there nitz, what's cookin?" Shitfaced as usual. "What bimbo's in your bed this morning?"
"I can't sleep Tom. It's weird. I just can't describe what happenend tonight."
A raspy cough came across the receiver. "Hey, I ain't even there and I betcha'a sixer of Piels Dr. Tom can diagnose the problem. Stop dropping e-rolls faggot! Stop bangin them transsexshals too! HA HA HA HA HA!"
This was not the morning to fuck with me, but what more could I expect from a derelict like Tom?
"Tom, listen. I don't know if this girl Roofied me or if I'm just going insane. The only way I can describe it is ..."
"Yeah? Go ahead."
"Tom, time skipped over me. It was midnight, then I closed my eyes, and ten seconds later it was now."
A long pause as Tom's hermit-crab sized brain processed all that. Then, his resolution. "Well, man, if I were you I'd go down to the Heatwave over there, tie one on with some Knob Creek or Wild Turkey, and call it a day. shit'll knock you cold in a second."
As irrational as it might have been, he had a point. I slammed down the receiver, put on my jacket and headed back across the street. The Heatwave is always open. Always. I never asked why, and I really don't care why. It's the Walgreen's Pharmacy of bars, and it had the medicine I so desperately wanted.
I sat down and ordered a double Jack on ice, slammed it, and then ordered another. Same bartender, same smug look. He must have thought I was an alcoholic or something. Two hours later I was shitfaced beyond my wildest belief and vomiting on the Heatwave's smelly ass recycling dumpster, but sleep still seemed far out of my reach. I was feeling too weak to eat or to really do anything, so I headed back home, found the leather couch in my house, and laid there, waiting for something to happen or some thought to enter my head.
An hour later, it hit me - sleeping pills. I hopped the bus to 16th and Magrille, jumped off and purchased a pack of Unisom gels from a real drugstore. I pounded four without water, jumped back on the bus the other way, hit my leather recliner and waited. And it happened again. I closed my eyes, felt the initial rush of sleep hit me, and then ten seconds later it was 1:37.
1:37 the next morning.
It was dark out, and yet ten seconds earlier there was blazing sunshine all over my apartment. I knew I couldn't be crazy now. Maybe I'm stuck in a sick dream, I thought. I took a step back, held my breath, and socked myself in the nuts as hard as I could. It fucking hurt bad. I wasn't dreaming. This was reality. My reality.
I was trapped in a fucking time warp.
Now asked yourself what you would do if you were in this sitation. Well, I did the only thing I possibly could do at this point. I pulled out the yellow pages, found the suicide line, and dialed.
"Hello, Monmouth County Suicide watch, what's your name?"
"Brett. I'm insane, lady. I'm stuck in a fucking time warp."
"Are you suicidal sir?"
"I'm getting ready to kill everyone and everything around me. If you don't get over to 116 North Brunswick Street Apartment 5 in six seconds I'm going to suicide bomb the whole block."
"Okay, sir, we're sending cops now." No shitting there - I heard sirens in the distance almost instantly. "Now just stay on the line and remain calm. Do you know why you're feeling the way you do?"
"Lady I just fucking told you. I'm trapped in a time warp."
"Okay, time warp, let me write this down." I heard a pen scratching on paper. She thought I was nuts. She was right.
"I close my eyes and then time skips me for a dozen hours or so. I need HELP."
"Help's on the way," she said, and then I heard the whoop of the squad cars outside. I dropped the phone, put up my hands and yelled out the window. "NO BOMBS! NO NOTHING! 201 ME, I'M NUTS DAMN IT! I'M NUTS I'M NUTS I'M NUTS."
In a manner of three minutes, they broke the door down, tied me to a stretcher, loaded me into a fire squad truck and carted me to the mental junction. This was the place they took you as an interim before they selected your padded room and shipped you off to eternal craziness. I saw craziness like I never saw being wheeled through there, but they're eyes all had the same feelings in them that I was feeling. Desperation. Frustration. An inability to explain what the fuck was going on.
Then I saw him. Sol was his name, or at least that's what the piece of paper said hanging on his wall, and he looked like a Sol. Skinny, short, big fucking head, bigger fucking Coke bottle glasses, collared shirt and tie with wrinkled khakis and scuffed loafers. He was sitting up but handcuffed to the metal railings on the ends of his bed. When he saw me his eyes lit up and his face contorted into this gruesome frown. Then he started saying it. That magic phrase, all the while looking me straight in the eye like a hot poker.
"Time warp. You know. You know. You KNOW!"
"TIME WARP!" I screamed, straining my head to look at the big black guy wheeling me along. "Time warp, God damn it, didn't you fucking hear him?"
"Calm down there, chief," the big black guy said in a big black guy baritone voice. "Sol's nuts. He just floated here from Kansas, big boy, heh heh. You're not nuts, are you?"
"Damn it, I have the same problem! Isn't there a fucking doctor in the house?"
A lady with white doctor's attire magically appeared in front of me. For all I knew she was there the whole time. This place really did make you think you were crazy.
The baritone again. "Keep quiet there Mister Brett. Everything is going to be okay."
"I'm going to kill you!" I screamed, begging for any attention. "That guy's stuck in the same bullshit I am! We're not crazy! It's not just me! God ... DAMN IT!"
The doctor looked right at me, picked up a Nextel phone, hit the two-way button and said in the calmest of calm voices, "Benadryl, 50 CCs, Ward 3."
"DAMN IT! GET ME OFF THIS FUCKING GURNEY! JUST LISTEN FOR ONCE! I'M NOT CRAZY! SOL COKE BOTTLES IS STUCK IN THE SAME TIME WARP AS ME! MAYBE IT'S SOME KIND OF .... SOME DRUG OR SOMETHING! SOME GOVERNMENTAL EXPERIMENT! I'M NOT NUTS, DAMN IT! I'M NOT NUTS!"
The prick of the needle rocked my world, and almost instantly I felt sleep tackle my ass. I mumbled something about my brother that even I couldn't quite comprehend, then I was out. The last thing I remember about that ten seconds of being out was the white lights above my head. Ten seconds later it was pitch dark, freezing fucking cold, and I was still tied to the same gurney I was however many hours or days or years ago.
At that point I was convinced. I was either dead, in hell, completely out of my fucking mind, or a chemistry-class-fucking combination of all three.
I hadn't slept, and yet here I was in pitch black darkness almost instantly. I spent the next four hours in that dungeon of dark cold hell, and then the big black guy that wheeled me opened the door to my cell or padded room or whatever the fuck it was.
"Good morning princess," he chimed in that baritone voice of his. Morning daylight flooded the halls outside my door. I wanted to scream but I just didn't have the energy in me.
"Time for your meds," he said, and then he hit me in the arm with a needle so big I thought it was going to go right through. I winced, but had I had any energy at all I would have flat out exploded. I had no energy left. As far as I was concerned, I had been awake for days on end.
The nightmare continued on into that day. I saw at least ten different doctors, none of whose names I remember. Every conversation with every individual that day is a blur. All the doctors performed a battery of tests on me, and none of them seemed very surprised about the results. Maybe they knew what the hell was going on with me, but I sure didn't and they sure weren't sharing any of their jolly good information. All the while I felt so tired I could just pass out, but I was so fucking afraid of passing out because to do so would mean another time warp. I was concerned that another one of those jaunts would propel me to Neptune or something.
At the end of Day 4, I was given another shot of Benadryl and I went out almost instantly. Ten seconds later it was dark and cold again, and I was sure some eternity had passed me by, but I did have one advantage - I wasn't strapped in any more. There I was, cold and shivering and so exhausted, but someone had had the mercy to free me from my bed bondage. I had to think and think quick. Baritone would be back soon, and this would be my only chance to get out of the nuthouse.
And then I saw him peering in my cell. Sol. The nutcase was smiling through that little windowed door and tapping his head with his finger. He looked scary and old and completely mentally fucking deranged, but he also looked ... confident. Cool. In control. The man was in control of SOMETHING in this nuthouse, but only God knew what it was.
I tried my best to signal about the lights in his cell. I drew a lightbulb over my head with my finger and smiled at it, trying to look like those cartoon characters that suddenly find great ideas, but Sol just kept smiling his goofy smile. Now, instead of tapping his head, he was making a pillow with his hands and tilting his head. "Sleep," he kept mouthing to me. Sleep? Christ, I thought, this guy really IS nucking futs. If he's got the time warps like I do, he damn well knows there's no sleep for the weary. Not in these cells baby. Not anywhere, for that matter.
But somehow I did fall asleep again. Ten seconds or two hours, it made no difference anymore. When I awoke, it was still dark, darker than Baritone after a day at the beach in Jamaica. Sol's light was off now, and I sat up breathing a sigh of relief.
"Boo," he said, directly behind my ear. It took everything in me not to rip his head off. Sol. He was in my cell.
"JESUS!"
"Shhhhhh," he whispered, and I could see that he was smiling again. "It ain't what you think."
"Know what I think? I think if you don't get the fuck out of my cell I'm gonna shove those Coke bottle glasses of yours right up your prune-shriveled schizophrenic ass."
"Schizo, huh?" he replied, and I felt the chills go up my back, like a light breeze, a ghost in the night. His voice was old, real old. "How do you know you're the one ain't seeing double?"
"I ain't crazy, man."
"No you're not," he confirmed, "but ... for your own, let's say, sanity, why don't you prove it to yourself?"
"Heh, what would you suggest? Punching myself in the balls and then knocking myself out on the padded walls for good measure?"
"Why don't you call the guards?" That smile again, the same one he used when he was tapping his finger against his temple. Who did he resemble? Dr. Lecter? Jack Nicholson at age 80 on crack?
I wanted to scream. I did.
"Baritone! Guards! Doctors! Someboby fucking HELP ME! Sol's in my cell! SOL'S HERE, HE BROKE IN, HE'S NUTS! GOD DAMN IT!"
I turned back to Sol. That smile again, and there was the tapping. What the hell was happening?
The door burst open. A completely unfamiliar face, an Oriental man. I was getting to know everyone in the ward. That couldn't be good.
"Brett? What's wrong?" Labcoat and glasses. Behind him, another black guard, bigger than Baritone, the familiar Nextel in one hand, straps in the other.
"LOOK!" I screamed, and pointed to ... nothing. No one. Sol was gone.
I collapsed, and let Bigger than Baritone hoist me onto the bed and strap me in. 50 more CCs of Benadryl, maybe a hundred this time. It didn't matter. I'd be awake in less than a minute.
I was right. Morning came quick, and so did the doctor, the girl again, reading over a clipboard in silence. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't think of anything but the utter exhaustion and the Benadryl hangover. Yes, I had made it to hell.
I was wheeled to breakfast on the gurney and fed clear foods - broth, jello, something else vile enough to make me want to gag. Then to the common room, where a dozen or so other nutcases practiced their lunacy collectively. The sun through the windows was brutal, another thorn in the side of my ever-present eternal damnation.
Sol was at one of the common tables, a checker board in front of him. One red checker rested on the board. He smiled as I approached him, the empty seat at the checker-end of the table an open invitation.
I sat. "Get a good night's rest?" he said. I couldn't speak. I was dying of thirst.
"Okay, let's begin. Do you think you're crazy, Brett?"
"Yes." It was the only answer that made sense.
"You are wrong," he replied. The statement added one more oblivious and baffling factor to the continuing equation of the past five days. An equation with no solution, ever. My life had become a bunch of divisions by zero.
He put his finger on the checker and tapped. "Let's say this is you, okay. Now, do you believe in fate?"
I shrugged.
"Okay, let's assume you do. Now what does that mean? Well, some would say fate assumes a predetermined destiny, something already written. Correct?"
I stared. At this point I would have agreed with anything. Anything. I would have cut off my dick and eaten it with mustard and relish if he had told me to.
"I'm here to tell you that that view is noble, but quite short-sighted. Fate means this," and he began to move the checker up the center line of the board, until it reached the end. "A linear existence, one already written. One line, one path, a string of events already written on the board. Doesn't seem like a lot of fun, does it?"
No, it didn't, but neither did being locked in a mental ward with Sol and a dozen or so other looney tunes, the Benadryl only a Nextel direct-connect away.
"Now, let's go back to here," he said as he shoved the checker back to its original position and moved it onto the square just left of center of the dividing line. The black square. "Let's say right now is here, in this dark, gloomy square. Not having a lot of fun here. Stuck in a mental hospital with these wackos, on crazy medication, eating ... jello? Did they feed you jello today?"
Jello. I almost threw up on the board.
"No matter. Okay, black square is the present. The blocks towards me are the future, okay. Now, walk your eyes up to the square in front of yours, the red square. That square represents tomorrow in the mental hospital. It'll be a rosier day, less Benadryl and red jello. Did you get green jello today?"
"It was red."
"Ah. Red, yes. Let's see. Tomorrow, do you see yourself waking up in the mental hospital, no sleep, strapped in your gurney, the red jello being spoonfed to you by the aides? How does that sounds?"
"Sounds about right," I said. In the corner, one of the nutcases was talking to his feet and petting them like dogs. He was smiling.
Sol took no notice. "Tomorrow you'll land on the red square, but only because you want to. You're choosing the red square."
"No I'm not. I'm crazy, and that's what happens to crazy people. They get red jello and a cold bed, maybe the occasional smile. And you. They get you. You're just a figment of my imagination. I'm hallucinating."
"Believe what you want. The way you're talking, the red square is inevitable. Know what I'd like you to do now?"
I laughed. "Cut my dick off and eat it with mustard and relish?"
He didn't reply. Instead, the red checker moved to one of the center squares, and the tapping commenced. "I'd like you to think of all the possibilities that could and could not occur right now. You're here." Tap, tap, tap, tap. "But you're also, here." Another tap, this time to the square on the left, "here," the square in front of the checker, "in every square on the board."
A shot of Benadryl would be nice right now, I thought.
He pointed to the square one row above the checker, all the way to the far left. "What's Brett doing in this square?"
"Heh, well let's see. He's signing out of this hell haven and getting into his limo, where twelve scantily clad women will fuck his brains out on his way to the next sellout rock concert he'll be performing at."
"Good. Now, say hi to that Brett. Go on. Say it. Hi, Brett!"
I smiled and repeated, "Hi Brett!" All we needed was Barney the purple fucking dinosaur and an audience of giddly little kids to make this show complete.
Sol leaned over the checker board, his old face inches from mine. "At this point, Brett, it doesn't seem so far-fetched, does it? Now say it, in here," as he pushed his old tappy little finger to my lips, "and here," then back to his temple.
I mimicked the temple tap. What did I have to lose? "Hi Brett," I whispered as I stared at the black square. I had never felt more at peace. Exhausted, drugged up. Ignorance truly *was* bliss. The crazy people knew what they were doing all along.
I heard Sol whisper. "Say hi and meet him," he said as he stared at nothing in particular, his arm hanging over the plastic green chair, the tapper tapping away but only finding air.
The exhaustion consumed me. My head slumped into my shoulder as I repeated the Idiot's Mantra. "Hi Brett, hi Brett, hi, hi, hi." The black square, now my whole existence. A non-zero integer that would complete the equation, a truckload of girls in a Humvee limo, a black leather jacket and the cool wind on my face, the morning sun blazing but no longer brutal. The black square. A pen.
A pen.
"Hi Brett," and I woke up. "Black pen only, please," and she handed me a pen. Monmouth County Recovery Center emblazoned on the surface. A clipboard, a form.
I was standing up. On the form was a host of information, mostly about me. Drug overdose, schizophrenia. Private pay. Dr. Xiang, Dr. Redding-Scott. A huge X where my signature was required.
A black leather jacket. I was wearing a black leather jacket. My jacket. Not my jacket.
"No ..."
"Everything okay?"
"Yes! Sorry, I just ... I ... sign here?"
"On the X." She was so young, so pretty. I had no idea who she was. I had no idea who *I* was.
I signed, I was handing forms, I was led outside. The morning was cool, the sun blazing, a little wind whipping from the north. A huge Humvee limo was double-parked outside the facility.
I tried to scream, but the exhaustion consumed me and I fell to the ground. The doors behind me opened, someone yelled something from the hospital. The Nextel again. I was out.
And awake again, at the table. Sol, staring intently, the checker back to the center square. "No good," he said. You're drugged up again. You'll have to wait."
"Christ! What the fuck? Why? What are you, guy? What are you?"
"Heh, heh. Just an old guy with thick glasses and the time warps, as you like to call them. Do yourself and your old buddy here a favor. Time warp yourself out of here to your apartment. I'm getting real sick of the food here, and before long they're going to ask me to pay for my stay. I was
declined Medicare, you know. No identification."
Again, a hangover, worse than Benadryl, worse than a fifth of Jager following a carton of Winstons. I tucked my head back into my shoulder and tried to picture another black checker square.
"No, not here, Brett. Ask one of the aides to take you to your room. No drugs, please. Tell them you'll be a good boy."
I started to get up.
"Ah, Brett? I'll need your address. I'm not a psychic. I'm only human, you know."
I picked up a half a crayon off the floor. Aquamarine. I scribbled the address on the inside of the checkers container.
"No drugs," he said as I walked to the aide. Tap, tap, tap on the checkers.
I was eventually led to my room by the original Baritone. He watched me lay down, watched me rest. My slippers came off, and I thought of nothing but black squares. One in particular, at the end of the board, near the middle. King me, I quipped in my head. My lava lamp, the dirty dishes in my sink, the slut from the Heatwave an eon ago in my bed. My shoulder, the only pillow in this awful place.
I was out. When I awoke, it had seemed like I had maybe slept for ... an hour? The sun was still brutally bright. I was sitting up. A familiar smell ... incense? Mold, mildew. This was my apartment.
I opened my eyes, sitting up on the couch in my underwear. Sol was directly next to me.
I punched him in the face, then scrambled for the gun in the drawer. Loaded. I pointed it at his head. Tap this, motherfucker.
He was bleeding. I had gotten him good, just below the eye. His Coke bottles were broken, an eyeglass arm dangling from his ear. He was on one knee, kneeling and holding up one hand.
The exhaustion was overwhelming. So was the heat in the apartment. When had I last been here? When was now?
"Mercy, son," he said as he scrambled to his feet, stepping back. "I am really only human."
I chambered the first bullet. "I don't like motherfuckers breaking into my apartment."
"Do all you North Jersey freaks lock your doors like this?"
"Answers, Sol. Now."
He found his way to the floor and removed his glasses, the blood oozing onto his hand. "Son, you've found the dirty little secret to life, the one you're not really supposed to know. God didn't intend for you to know it, but you do."
I waved the gun in his face as if to say keep going.
He caught his breath. "Time warp, you call it, but that's incorrect, because there is really no time. Time assumes a beginning and an end, linear if you will. Think of the checkerboard, if you must, but make it larger. Infinitely larger. There's squares in every direction, as far as your little mind can comprehend. I'm not saying you're feeble minded, Brett. I'm saying you're human, and as humans we can't truly comprehend what's available to us in this universe our Creator invented, the same way a greenhead fly can't comprehend the Internet or television or nuclear fission. To them, existence is finding the next chunk of skin to rip off your arm so they can feed their kids. To us, it's time. We've invented our own reality because we've chosen to experience it this way. We're bound by the line, the beginning and the end. Infinity has no meaning because it can't be defined. And this," he said as he wiped more blood from his face, "this time warp thing really can't be defined either, but it exists, and you're one of the lucky ones to discover it.
"Paradoxical, non-sequential, simultaneous, continuum. Everything is happening at once, none of it is happening in any particular order, all of it is happening at the same time, and all of it continues to happen. The absolute, Brett. What you've discovered is that you no longer have to BE anywhere, or anyone, for that matter. You choose which way to move on the checkerboard, and there you are. If you want to move forward in one direction, you do. If you want to move sideways, you can. If you want to be in two places, you can too, but can you imagine that? Two places? Three? A hundred?"
I stared.
"Brett, you're in EVERY place. That's the ticket! You exist EVERYWHERE! I'm here, but I'm also in Rome as a boy, in Nepal as a teenager. I'm still in the mental ward, and so are you. Choose the black square at the end of the board. Go ahead. Nod out and you might just find yourself in the gurney with the jello only a few hours away."
"Why did this start happening?"
He got up, not threateningly. "Why NOT? Why ask why? You can't explain it. You never will, and neither will I. We're both in this together. You've just figured it out. I've been hopping around forever, it seems."
I dropped the gun on the couch. "Why me, Sol? Why did you pick me?"
"The other part of the equation, probably the most important. I'm the only one who COULD have explained it. At least from my point of view. I knew where to come. I knew how to find you."
"How?"
He got up and started walking towards the door. "The paradox. Don't worry, you'll figure it out. We've been in this together bud, me and you, for quite some ... heh, quite some TIME, let's say. A long time. Like I said, you'll figure it out. Just keep believing in it. Don't give up, or you might end up back in Monmouth. Right now, you've skipped that part. We're back to where we belong. She just left, by the way. Her name was Claire. Did you know that?"
I didn't.
"Well, I did. And I knew your address too. You didn't have to scribble it ... eh, forget it. That's water under the bridge. Another square, mind you. Pick something more fun next time. A rock concert maybe. Try that out for size."
He opened the door and started to leave. "Wait," I said. "Sleep. This all ... it took away my ability to sleep. Will it always be this way?"
He squinted back, no glasses to help him see me in my skivvies. "Another dirty little secret. Humans don't need sleep, did you know that? We weren't really built that way, you know. Sleep is ... well, it's the way we move about the board, so to speak. You know that now. You don't need to sleep to feel refreshed. Stop thinking like a linear module, Brett. The only time you should be thinking about nodding off is when you want to move to another square. Move first, then sleep. When you wake up, you'll have ... moved. And if you don't want to wake up you won't, I guess. I've never thought about that, really. Maybe that's the last part to the ... equation. The "divide by zero", if you will."
A chill ran up my spine.
"I got to go, Brett. I got zeroes to divide. Have fun." And he left.
I stared at his broken glasses on the floor. Around my apartment, there were no papers from Monmouth. The bedspread was still dissheveled from my night with Claire. The locks on my door were unbroken. No one had busted in to cart me off to Padded City.
I sat on the floor by the broken glasses and closed my eyes, tucking my head in my shoulder, thinking of the black square closest to Sol. King Me, King me again, I thought, and I was out. When I awoke, I was in my leather jacket, and we were off to the rock concert in New York City, a scantily clad blonde by my side.
******
The Heatwave was truly steaming that night. Across the bar, a young man was rapping to a slutty blonde over cigarettes and beer.
"Two o'clock," I said as I rang the bell for last call. "Passing time!"
"Heh," the young man sneered. "Passing time? Don't you mean closing time, fucko?"
"Ah, yes, closing time. Whatever. Last drink. What'll it be?"
"Two more for the road, one for me and one for the lovely young woman to my left. What's this, your first night on the job?"
I chuckled. "No sir. I've been doing this for two hundred years."
"Whatever. You look fifty." He was drunk, as I expected. "Where the hell have you bartended, fucko?"
"Well, let's see. Vegas, Rome, Tokyo, the Virgins. Indonesia. They don't buy a lot of alcohol in Indonesia."
He gave me the blank stare, the one I expected. "Well, if it's passing time, then pass me my beer so I can pass out next to this hot chick."
"Hey," she said, "I ain't no slut. You ain't passing out nowhere except in the gutter."
"Only if the gutter includes you," he said back, and they started making out. Typical. I expected it. He pounded his beer, then walked away without paying for it, the blonde girl in his arm. No sweat off my back. The little adventure had been more delightful than ever. I had waited a long time to see him.
When he was gone, I walked out behind him, scampered around to the alley way, and laid by the dumpster. The stench was unbearable, but I loved it. Life was an equation of experiences, and I loved them all. I breathed it all in, the stench, the fly shit, whatever. I'd be back, sometime soon I guess, to give the little shit his shots of Jack, but for now, I thought ... Canada. North, where it was cold. When I woke up, there I was, wrapped in deerskin, a scantily clad young lady at my left side, my hunting bow on the other.
******
"Name, please."
"Sol," I replied. I had lied.
"Where were you last night?"
"Kansas, sir." I wasn't lying.
"And might I ask, how did you end up in New Jersey?"
"I traveled here by the checkerboard in my head, through space and time."
The huge black man nodded and jotted something down on the clipboard. His name was Montell.
"Why did you come here?"
"I'm suicidal." A half lie, or maybe not a lie at all. Whatever. They'd admit me. They had to. That's what happens in this red square.
"Age?" he said, the baritone voice all too familiar.
"Eighty."
"Do you have identification?"
"No, sir."
"No ID, no Medicare. You know that?"
"I can handle it."
More jotting. "A doctor will visit you shortly." And she did, ever so swiftly, the familiar Nextel in hand. In the year 2140, the phones are thin as paper, and they roll up in your pocket. In 1450, they were still communicating with smoke signals. The Nextel is a nice middle-of-the-road solution, I thought.
They sat me on a gurney and wheeled me to the junction waiting room. A dozen other beds remained, all filled with sickos. Next to my space, they taped a piece of paper to the wall. SOL, it read.
I waited. He would be coming any minute now. Thirty some odd years, or at least it seems that way to me. Thirty years of jumping around the board. I knew I'd be back. That's the paradox. Now the only question that remains is what came first, the chicken or the egg, the checker or the board? Did I know this all along? I guess I'll find out. The only way to divide by zero is to try. Somewhere on this checkerboard, there's a square that doesn't exist, or maybe it does and it just leads to ... nowhere, or everywhere. Can I lead my way to nothing, to everything, all at once? I guess I'll try - I've tried everything else, and boy was it good. But first, a little work. I'd like to keep this little game going, and I just have to wait ... ah, there he is, right on time. Of course he'll see me. I'm right here.
Yes, what DID come first, the chicken or the egg? Will I soon find out? Why ask why?
Ah, but then again, why not?
- VS -
Entry 2
Gheybeard, Butt-Pirate of the Caribbean!Yar, me hearties! I've a tale to tell ye, of one of the saltiest tars 'eer to grace the poop-deck of the Queen's finest privateers!
This be a tale of when men were men, and cabin boys could hold their grog (amongst other things) with nary a complaint.
Let me take ye back to the days of the Spanish Main, to the days of ... Gheybeard, Butt-Pirate of the Caribbean!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Gheybeard strode across the deck of his privateer, the 'Raging Queen'. His was a stout ship, and his men all manly men, right down to the manroot! As he surveyed his crew, sharp as always, hard at work, he felt a certain satisfaction come about him.
Being a pirate was hard work! Pillaging and looting and raping didn't just come overnight to the average butt-pirate - Gheybeard had strict standards as to what his men could or could not do. Discipline was enforced by the lash, which was usually welcomed by this lot - withholding the lash tended to have its effects on enforcing his authority as well.
All in all, Gheybeard was pretty happy with his men, strong of heart, strong of leg, a good sense of fashion, and most of his sailors would crack a walnut with their iron buttocks - yes, a crew any manly man would proud to serve under (assuming he wasn't a top, of course).
Gheybeard mused to himself, reminiscing as to his early days at sea - he was born in the West Indies, to a planter's family, and given the name Arriq D'Rize. Teased often as a youth because of his misshapen facial features, he hung out at the Kingston docks, wishing to be far far away. Then one day, he caught the fancy of a bejeweled swashbuckler, who, taking a shine to the young lad, offered him to come visit him aboard his ship, promising him 'grog and a look at his etchings of life at sea'.
6 glorious hours later, Arriq knew he was a butt-pirate for life.
He was then passed around from ship to ship, from English, to French, to Greek (oh, they taught him a thing or two about 'seamanship', Gheybeard chuckled), til one day he settled aboard the 'Raging Queen', where he worked his way through the ranks, often toiling on his knees for hours, until one day he was master of his domain!
And now, as Cap'n Gheybeard, he beat a scouring jib a windward, sending men, boys, and treasure throughout the West Indies to his secret lair in the Gheyman Islands! The Caribbean was his to behold, a chocolate starfish of treasure for he and his men to do with as they will...
Gheybeard turned his attention to the fo'c'stle, where a group or bare-chested tars danced to a sea-chanty, arm in arm.
After stopping for a moment, two of the men squared off against each other, ready to engage in the favored way of passing time aboard the 'Raging Queen', 'peener-sparring'.
Peener-sparring was the favoured way of enforcing dominance aboard the ship - with so many men together in close quarters, tempers flamed up hotter than a flock of Queen Elizabeth I impersonators in Brockwell Park.
To peener-spar, the two men would strip down naked, face each other, and hands on hips and arms akimbo, thrust their peeners at their opposite number in the hopes of making the other man 'gild the lily', as it were.
Gheybeard watched intently as an old pouf acting as referee lined the two men up facing each other properly, and then prepared the match
"Be ye ready, laddie?"
"YAR!" said the first.
"Be ye ready, me hearty?"
"YAR!" said the second.
"PEENER!" the old fruit declaimed, and the match was on!
Immediately, the air was rent with cries as the onlookers placed wagers, and urged their shipmates to glorious victory. Their bronzed bodies glistened, as the hot tropic sun beat a tattoo upon their bare, manly flesh.
And then, all too quickly as it often seems, one lad 'unfurled his mainsail' all over the deck - leaving the other to prance about victoriously, bragging of his manly skills, whilst fobbing his shillelagh all over anyone he fancied.
Cap'n Gheybeard's entertainments were brought to a close by a shrill cry from the crow's nest:
"Cap'n! There be a merchant ship off the port quarter at 10 cables!"
With this Gheybeard sprang into action, yelling out to all his lads, "Avast, me hearties, thar be treasure before us, and the opportunity to 'go where no man has gone before'! Let's get that rigging up, and prepare ye selves for boarding a ship!"
With a stout Hoy! from the lads, they all took up positions along the ship, as the 'Raging Queen' flew like a chickenhawk to its helpless prey.
"Cap'n, will all be well, I am afraid!" Gheybeard looked down at Selim, his slim-hipped Malaysian cabin-boy, one of his favourite souvenirs from a pillaging trip to Thailand.
"Now lad, nothing to be afeared of, this ship is just like any other, now, go below and prepare my special manacles and the spreader bar for our guests - we shan't want to keep them waiting, eh lad?"
Gheybeard watched fondly as the young lad scurried below-decks to prepare for the arrival of so many new guests.
Turning his attention towards the victim's vessel, he saw the look of horror in the opposing crew's eyes as a mass of oiled, leather-clad butt-pirates clambered onto the deck of their ship.
"Remember to save the young stallions, me hearties" Gheybeard cried out, "We need fresh plump victuals for tonight's celebration!"
Gheybeard's pirates made short work of the crew, dispatching the old and grizzled whilst keeping the cream of the crew intact.
Soon, the short battle was over, and Gheybeard surveyed his prize.
Gheybeard paced on the deck of his new conquest, and growled at the line of quivering captives before him.
"Alright you lot, I'll give ye the choice ye all get, ye either join our crew, as our amusements for a time, or ye walk the plank - I think you'll find it's an easy choice, given the situation ye find..."
At this, Gheybeard was cut off by the appearance of a large-bosomed woman, encrusted with rouge and cheap Cathay silks. Her fat face was surrounded by ridiculously greasy ringlets of blondish hair.
"Oh CAPTAIN! I am your PRISONER! Ohh! The horrors! Being captured by a bunch of ravishing PIRATES, how simply DREADFUL!"
At this, the large-ballasted wench leered closely to his first mate, and licked slug-like lips covered with a shade of red favoured by the Whore of Babylon.
As his first mate passed out stone-cold on the decking, the trollop flounced its way to the Cap'n. Her breasts heaving as two barrels of lard in a raging sea, in such as fashion that even the hardiest of salts would become sea-sick, she sidled up to Gheybeard, and grasped his arm conspiratorially.
"Oooh, aren't you the big STRONG pirate captain? MY, look at the cannons on you, I bet you have your WAY with ANY woman you want ANY time you want, DON'T you?" With that, the cetaceous woman leered fawningly at him, blinking her hideously large lashes at him in some hetero-sexual attempt of signal lanterns.
Suppressing his gag reflex, Gheybeard said to the woman loudly, "No need to fear, my good woman, you of all people are most safe on this vessel, I give you my word that you shall not be molested as a result of this incursion!"
With that, Gheybeard's men, murmured their assent, with but a twinge of disgust.
"What? What kind of PIRATES are you, not to take ADVANTAGE of the rich bounty you seize from the seas?" she gaped insolently.
"Err, we're BUTT-pirates, ma'am" Gheybeard said with a chuckle "Emphasis on the BUTT, if you please!" and with that his men began to chortle appreciatively.
Oblivious, the woman yammered on "Well, I NEVER! Just because you are so well-dressed, you think you're too GOOD to way your way with me, why, I wager you're all FLACCID..."
And with that, the woman was cut short by the singing of a dozen cutlasses being unsheathed.
There were many insults you could throw at a butt-pirate, like making fun of him when his scabbard doesn't match his boots, but none was more worse that calling a butt-pirate FLACCID! Men have been skewered for less, and then killed!
"Madam, I suggest you refrain from such comments, lest you find your head apart from your shoulders" Gheybeard gritted through clenched teeth.
"Well, I DON'T see how you can call yourselves PIRATES if you fail to ravage all that you capture, it isn't very SPORTING, is it?"
At this, the Cap'n was set back on his heels - he did have the Pirates' Code to uphold, and the honor of his ship, but who among his crew could bear to plow the furrow of such a hideous beast??
"Cap'n, _I_ shall take the punishment, for the honor of the 'Raging Queen'!" Gheybeard turned to see his first-mate, now revived, standing before him.
"Morley, are you serious? Tis but a brave thing you do, to be sure, but I cannot in good conscience ask a manly man as yourself to subject yourself to such indignities!"
"No others of the crew should have to be subjected to this abomination! I shall do it, O my Cap'n!" and with that, the men of the 'Raging Queen' gave a rousing HUZZAH! for their brave comrade, who would so readily face the horrors of Scylla and Charibdis.
"Very well then, my brave lad!"
And with that, Gheybeard threw open the cargo holds, and great kegs of grog were brought forth onto the decks, and the men all lined up for a good stout paddling as their reward for the capture of such a fine ship...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Yar, me boyos, did ye enjoy my tale of the days of yore and butt-piracy? I'll be back with another story of the adventures of...
Gheybeard, Butt-Pirate of the Caribbean!
Entry 1:
absolutes
Adamdidit2u
antluvdog
BLITZKREIG_BOB
c1ndy
CaptainThorns
Circe
comicbookguy
Confuzitron
Coyote
crizza
Davros
doctorj24
engine13
Flaahgra
Genko
Hirilnara
jack11058
Jack_McCallum
jgreening
JMG114
Kre8rix
LadyPlural
loki
Magicaddict
munkeypants
MyNameIsTim
Natalia_Everitt
Natsukau
NOWorNEVER
OnEdge
peckerhead
Phallic_Cymbals
rad1101
RyuFu
satchel
Slovin
Snark
Spuds002
stevie_says
supadupapupa
thecaes
ThineJericho
thorpe
tlozoot
vettesrule88
William_Q_Percy
yermom
Yoheklan
zakalwe
44 eligible votes (50 total) *
Entry 2:
bigbabylons
bob
ConorJS
DanielH
darko
DonovanMD
firefly
JonnyX
sparkle_pink
SullyThePirate
8 eligible votes (10 total) *
* Eligible votes are those made by users who had either (A) posted 3+ messages OR (B) written 100+ [lowered from 750+] reviews as of the beginning of the UberMadness! competition.
User Reviews
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-08-31 13:15:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
needs more ghey.
Submitted by loki (user info) at 2005-08-04 17:59:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
of course, only an Eagles fan would use the word "fuck" that many times in a story
Submitted by antluvdog (user info) at 2005-08-04 15:06:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
JonnyX: I liked it.
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-08-04 14:00:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
So, I'm guessing YAR YAR PEENER! won't be the latest Ubercatchphrase?
Ah well, I guess Uber isn't ready for ghey pirate stories - I thought I'd go out on a limb and try something _really_ different.
Submitted by thorpe (user info) at 2005-08-04 10:06:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by jack11058 (user info) at 2005-08-04 08:24:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
entry 1 took far too long to get anywhere. also, i'm not very smart, so it was almost incomprehensible to me.
entry 2. fucking meh.
Submitted by sparkle_pink (user info) at 2005-08-04 03:13:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by peckerhead (user info) at 2005-08-04 01:19:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by LadyPlural (user info) at 2005-08-03 22:03:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Natalia_Everitt (user info) at 2005-08-03 16:44:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Entry one was abso-fucking-lutely superb.
Well done!
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2005-08-03 16:04:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Mind-bending.
Submitted by OnEdge (user info) at 2005-08-03 15:43:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Yoheklan (user info) at 2005-08-03 15:07:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
lost track a few times but all and all its decent
Submitted by absolutes (user info) at 2005-08-03 14:11:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-08-03 12:17:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Author #1, boy was that LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG. Honestly, I got kinda bored halfway though.
As for you, Author #2, I am reminded of the words of Spinal Tap's Nigel Tufnel, when I say:
"None. None more GHEY!"
Submitted by bigbabylons (user info) at 2005-08-03 09:16:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by ThineJericho (user info) at 2005-08-03 02:40:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Obvious choice.
I greatly enjoyed the first entry though, not merely because number two was horrible.
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2005-08-03 02:33:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Interesting.
-Dave
Submitted by zakalwe (user info) at 2005-08-02 19:41:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
fucks sake
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2005-08-02 17:40:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Voting for entry 2 because entry one is winning.
Submitted by Adamdidit2u (user info) at 2005-08-02 17:00:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
i think in need to reiterate how fucking awesome entry number one is
Submitted by engine13 (user info) at 2005-08-02 16:51:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2005-08-02 16:47:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
all day long.
Submitted by Adamdidit2u (user info) at 2005-08-02 16:34:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Entry 2 was the suxor
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2005-08-02 16:22:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by yermom (user info) at 2005-08-02 15:44:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by ConorJS (user info) at 2005-08-02 15:41:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
A question to the author of entry 1. Ever read the book Mr Was? 'Cause i'm pretty sure even the character names were ripped off. good try though.
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2005-08-02 15:20:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by bob (user info) at 2005-08-02 15:14:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Hirilnara (user info) at 2005-08-02 14:57:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by satchel (user info) at 2005-08-02 14:44:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Spuds002 (user info) at 2005-08-02 14:14:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by loki (user info) at 2005-08-02 13:33:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
even so, I voted for #1 because #2 was
just
so
so
bad
Submitted by RyuFu (user info) at 2005-08-02 13:31:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I have to reiterate on this...#1 made me think about life and beyond--existence as a whole. Fuck, even anti-existence.
#2 made me think about voting for #1.
Submitted by RyuFu (user info) at 2005-08-02 13:26:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
::sigh:: Come on, seriously...
Submitted by loki (user info) at 2005-08-02 13:22:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
#1 used "fuck" in the following parts of speech:
1. adj : used to describe "days", intent appeared to be to emphasize length of time
2. adv: used to modify "describe", intent may have been to convey a sense of helplessness and as a point of emphasis
3. verb: "to fuck with" meaning "engage in tomfoolery"
4. adj: used to modify "time warp", intent to uh not really sure - skip that one
5. adv: used to modify verb "told", conveying ire?
6. adv(?): "what the fuck was going on". I'm thinking adverb because it seems to be modifying the past tense of the verb "to be"
7. adj: modifying "head" (this is more amusing as a verb, but no it's an adjective)
8. adj: modifying "glasses" - same sentence as #7, no clear literary reason discernable
9. adv: to modify "told" - oh lordy I don't know why
10. adj: to modify "doctor" - here again, taken out of context it could be a verb but no, it's an adjective
11. adj: used with "gurney"
12: I believe this would be considered part of an adjective clause, "freezing fucking cold" describing the room although the noun in the sentence is implied unless gurney is the noun, yea that's probably it.
13. adj: used with "mind", same general usage and context as #7
14. noun: this is, as far as I can tell the first usage of "fuck" as a noun, or perhaps more specifically a pronoun if a pronoun is something that can be used in lieu of the word "room", not sure - I was a math major, sorry.
15. adv: I'm pretty sure it is an adverb. In this case "fuck" was used to modify "afraid" which is itself an adjective so "fuck" would have to be an adverb here. Unless, "afraid" is an adverb, nope it doesn't matter, either way, "fuck" here is an adverb.
16. ooh toughy, is deranged a noun? I'm just not sure. If deranged is a noun, then in this case, "fuck" would be an adjective, but if "deranged" is an adjective used to modify "mind" then "fuck" would be an adverb. I think I'll go with adverb here.
17. adv: "fucking nuts" I think that based on my decision to go with adverb in #16 above, then I have to go with adverb here. If "deranged" is an adjective, then in this context, "nuts" would be too. I could be wrong about that, but I'll err on the side of consistency.
18. another tough call: "get the fuck out of my cell". Let's see, I may have to diagram this one. The noun is "you" (understood", the verb would be "to go", making "out of my cell" a prepositional phrase maybe, damn this is hard. I think I'll go with adverb here too.
19. not making this easy, ok I'm game: "somebody fucking help me"
noun: somebody
reflexive verb: to help me
adverb?
20: AHA SWEET oh HELL YES, this is IT the one I've been waiting all this time for, the word "fuck" used as a verb to describe the act of copulation. I was really starting to wonder if it would happen.
21. and back to adjective, used here to modify "dinosaur"
22: "What the fuck?": sigh ok, I give up, uh noun?
23: I'll go with "motherfucker" being a noun, sure why not, maybe even a pronoun.
24. another use of "motherfucker", this time I am going with a solid "pronoun"
25. another modification of "fuck" this time "fucko", pronoun?
whew - now to read #2 and vote
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-08-02 12:53:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
#2 is like something written by a 12 year old. Sad.
Congrats, #1.
Submitted by Kre8rix (user info) at 2005-08-02 12:46:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by firefly (user info) at 2005-08-02 12:39:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Magicaddict (user info) at 2005-08-02 12:18:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-08-02 11:32:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Ha ha, Entry 2 was actually pretty well done.
Entry 1 gets my vote though. I really really enjoyed the concept you talked about here, about time and absolutes. The division by zero bit was pretty cool, too. However, your main character did things that made no sense to me at times...he was horribly inconsistent; one moment a raging lunatic, another an ass, another a supplicant student...I see what you were going for, but it only jarred me. Well told story, all in all.
Submitted by doctorj24 (user info) at 2005-08-02 11:12:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Circe (user info) at 2005-08-02 11:11:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Heh.
Entry 1 blew me away, and then I read the words "Gheybeard, Butt-Pirate of the Caribbean!" and I thanked god for making my choice easy.
Submitted by William_Q_Percy (user info) at 2005-08-02 10:44:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Confuzitron (user info) at 2005-08-02 10:40:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by NOWorNEVER (user info) at 2005-08-02 10:23:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
i wrote something with this same title. not as original as either of these entries though...
Submitted by comicbookguy (user info) at 2005-08-02 09:45:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2005-08-02 09:01:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Author#1 has every right in the world to be extremely pissed off.
Submitted by jgreening (user info) at 2005-08-02 08:44:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Entry 1 was just frippin good.
Submitted by crizza (user info) at 2005-08-02 08:16:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Good, very good.
Submitted by JMG114 (user info) at 2005-08-02 07:45:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Like a veritable sine wave, entry one went up and down but the ending clinched it. Good job.
Yar.
Submitted by Flaahgra (user info) at 2005-08-02 07:32:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
One was great, two was...not as great.
Submitted by Natsukau (user info) at 2005-08-02 07:17:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Coyote (user info) at 2005-08-02 05:38:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Not a difficult choice, even though I found myself taking an instant dislike to Brett.
Oh, and I think Author 2 will find that 'phocine' is a far better word choice than 'cetaceous' in that context.
Submitted by c1ndy (user info) at 2005-08-02 04:05:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by vettesrule88 (user info) at 2005-08-02 02:49:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
holy
fucking
shit
Submitted by tlozoot (user info) at 2005-08-02 02:36:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Awesome. Difficult choosing quality fiction over quality humor.
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-08-02 02:29:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
you are ghey?
Submitted by SullyThePirate (user info) at 2005-08-02 02:28:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
For obvious reasons.
Submitted by joedaddy (user info) at 2005-08-02 02:23:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
A very long bowel movement followed up by a crisp butt smelly fart
Submitted by DanielH (user info) at 2005-08-02 02:01:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Entry 2, instead of: "one of the saltiest tars 'eer to grace...." Should've been: "one of the saltiest tars *e'er* to grace...." Fun story, best of two ok-ers.
Submitted by supadupapupa (user info) at 2005-08-02 01:55:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I loved number 1, the theme really appealed to me and the writing was very well done. Well developed, and good dialogue. Can I direct the movie? We can call it the Checkerboard Effect.
I loved number 2, it was hard to stifle my laughter. On top of that it was well written...
I'm actually happy that my vote doesn't count on this one.
Submitted by DonovanMD (user info) at 2005-08-02 01:46:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Phallic_Cymbals (user info) at 2005-08-02 01:45:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Entry one was a little unsure for the first half. The narrator's reactions seemed a bit illogical, and two instances of "Black outs" seemed too mild to elicit a total freak out.
Having said that, the philosophical second half was very entertaining and thought provoking.
Entry 2 was just... hundreds of gay jokes. And pirates. And gay jokes.
Unfortunately, i think entry 1's author may have disqualified himself by revealing his identity.
Entry 1, but i wasn't knocked off my feet.
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-08-02 01:34:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
OH MY FUCKING GOD WHAT THE FUCK WAS THIS SHIT?
what happened to "oh it'll get better as we go along"?
Submitted by Slovin (user info) at 2005-08-02 01:29:58 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Genko (user info) at 2005-08-02 01:29:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I say that the loser of 'Divine Intervention' should get the spot of whoever wins among these two clowns.
Entry one, only because it didn't have a character named 'Gheybeard'.
Submitted by antluvdog (user info) at 2005-08-02 01:27:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I almost voted for Entry 2 because of the illustration. Kickass! And I like pirate stories ...
Submitted by stevie_says (user info) at 2005-08-02 01:24:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Number One was awesome.