Rust in Peace
My Prelude has been dead since thursday. It died on the way back from game night on I-5. One minute I'm cruising and the next minute the oil light comes on and the cockpit is filling with smoke. Initially, I wondered if I should keep driving and see how the situation panned out, but I pulled over lest I become overwhelmed by the smoke. There was oil everywhere under the hood and under the car. Either the Oil pump or the Oil Cooler went kaput. I've had to drive this 72' El Camino 350 with a white vinyl top, 14" Chrome wheels, exhaust headers, and a crappy stereo system. Lucklilly I had the foresight to record some of my Happy Hardcore onto a tape, otherwise, driving the blasted thing would be really no fun. I think I'll get a 1991 Honda Prelude with the 2.1 liter engine and 4 wheel steering and simply salvage some parts from the 90' which is sitting ghettoly near the wood pile at the side of the house. I'll probably end up with a red one, which means I'll have to re-paint that TW-55 spoiler. I'm just thinking out loud at this point. Nobody really cares about my car troubles. I can say that I'd be a lot more upset right now If I didn't have Jesus. Its like those milk commercials that the dairy farming companies of America ran because they dosed cows with hormones to make them produce lots of milk and had to run commercials that were like Public service announcements to get more people to drink more milk. Those hormones are terrible. They make the cows have horrible pustules in their udders and when we drink the milk, we get the horribleness of the hormones. I drink Soy Milk and have been for awhile, but its not because of that, its becuase I like the taste of it better and I'm a little lactose intolerant. Funny, Lactose intolerance was virtually unheard of before the 20th century. It might have something to do with the way they've been using technology to genetically enhance cows. Nevertheless, I refuse to go over to Organic foods. I like the genetically modified foods. Like those super jumbo eggs you can get that sometimes have two yokes. It says on the package that they aren't genetically enhanced, but it doesn't say anything about the chickens. Except for the milk thing, I think genetically modified or "frankenfoods" have an over all good effect on humanity. They are turning us into awesome mutants and we will continue to be bettered by it. Enough of the ranting. Christ is risen, amen to that. Heres another story about something awful that happened to someone in a fictional sense. Enjoy.
Release
Kevin Dratmere cranked up the volume by a factor of ten and floored the gas pedal after shifting into fifth. It was a long bridge and there wasn't going to be any possibility of a speed trap for the rest of this song. The dial moved steadilly in a clockwise direction past eighty miles per hour and the music thumped quickly as the loud exhuast system emitted a low buzz that gradually increased pitch. He reached down and picked up the plastic that he had filled with model glue, rubber cement, liquid paper, and butane. He put it to his face and inhaled deeply of the fumes.
"...Don't be afraid, take all you need from me, And we'll be strong together"
He could feel the music, the fumes, the high, the love, and it made him light headed. Kevin knew that he couldn't be strong without his "happy bag" as he was referring to it. His friends were concerned of course, and kept suggesting he stop and get some help before he died of it, but it was a wonderful release from his poor excuse for a life.
"I need you" He said to the bag.
The bag nodded in agreement and reciprocated that it indeed needed him too. They would be strong together.
"I don't have a job anymore, I'm gonna be evicted in a week, and my Girlfriend said she doesn't love me anymore"
Happy bag was very empathetic. It was all smiles, sunshine, and love. Kevin had been all about the love and he had been hurt. Kevin felt good knowing that someone understood him. It opened itself up and suggested he huff some more. It was like a beautiful kiss that seemed to last forever and spots started to appear in his vision. Like that very first kiss under the stars on that beautiful clear moonlit night. The street lamps had a laser effect and trailed for quite a distance. The bag now appeared to be bouncing to the music and it had a big smiley face. It winked at him as if to say "I love you Kevin" The bag said in his ex-girlfriend's voice.
"You don't exist, Shayla!" He shouted, tears streaming down his face. "I only love my Happy Bag now, and she loves me. We'll be strong together"
He huffed a bit more, but now his vision was getting very blurry and his eyes were heavy. Kevin wanted to fall asleep.
"Kiss me" The bag implored him. "And don't let go. We'll never let go, we'll be together forever"
"Together Forever" was the next song on Kevin's mix cd. It was that wonderful Hixxy and Bannaman mix. Hixxy was real, he was a famous Dj and Kevin had seen pictures of him, but he was convinced that Bannaman was a figment of Hixxy's imagination that only came out at certain times, when the mix was really happy and hardcore. The singer, though female, had a somewhat masculine voice and it made him feel all tingly down inside. He'd once read a review that called this stuff "House music on Speed" and it only made him want it more. There was something so pretentious and charming. House was trying too hard to be serious, but the Happy Hardcore was blatantly ridiculous and over the top as if to say "We're crazy, we're insane, and no one will ever take us seriously," which explained why it appealed so much to Kevin and his generation. Shayla didn't like it though. She listened to popular stuff and country. How unoriginal and boring that was. And then there was Avril Lavigne and her complaint music about unpleasant relationships. The songs were all basically the same, but they were about different unpleasant relationships. It was like she didn't learn anything from the last song. She needed a good dose of prozac and Happy Hardcore. The happy hardcore made Kevin feel good, which was needed more and more these days with his life falling apart.
"But my life won't fall apart as long as I have you" He told the bag.
"...This is forever so please be mine..." The bag lip synced.
"I will" Kevin agreed.
And that was all the giant yellow smiley-faced demigod needed to hear. Kevin and his Happy Bag kissed long and deep. He passed out and went into convulsions, causing the car to swerve violently. It rubbed up against the side of the bridge scraping metal and causing some really exciting sparks. It bounced to the other side, crossing the center line, but this time it had enough momentum and bounce to jump the railing and guard rail. Kevin and his thrashed sports car ended up thirty feet down in the lake. It was a total mystery as to what had happened to him, it was like he dropped off the face of the Earth. A few people reported him missing, but there were no serious attempts to find him as the Happy Bag was the only other...thing that ever really cared about him. It was a give and take relationship: Kevin gave and the Bag took. But ultimately, it was the happy faced demigod that came out on top. He bounced up and down perpetually to a constant mix of every Happy Hardcore song from the past, present, and future occurring all at the same time. It added another desciple to its growing list of sacrifices and stirred its giant vat of Methylinedioxymethamphetamine; an endless supply.
"Who do you think created this stuff? Merck?"
More and more people were hearing the voice (the music) and tasting the rainbow (the drugs). Listen to the voice, but don't taste the rainbow.
"Once you taste that rainbow, you're mine" The happy face warned.
Release
Kevin Dratmere cranked up the volume by a factor of ten and floored the gas pedal after shifting into fifth. It was a long bridge and there wasn't going to be any possibility of a speed trap for the rest of this song. The dial moved steadilly in a clockwise direction past eighty miles per hour and the music thumped quickly as the loud exhuast system emitted a low buzz that gradually increased pitch. He reached down and picked up the plastic that he had filled with model glue, rubber cement, liquid paper, and butane. He put it to his face and inhaled deeply of the fumes.
"...Don't be afraid, take all you need from me, And we'll be strong together"
He could feel the music, the fumes, the high, the love, and it made him light headed. Kevin knew that he couldn't be strong without his "happy bag" as he was referring to it. His friends were concerned of course, and kept suggesting he stop and get some help before he died of it, but it was a wonderful release from his poor excuse for a life.
"I need you" He said to the bag.
The bag nodded in agreement and reciprocated that it indeed needed him too. They would be strong together.
"I don't have a job anymore, I'm gonna be evicted in a week, and my Girlfriend said she doesn't love me anymore"
Happy bag was very empathetic. It was all smiles, sunshine, and love. Kevin had been all about the love and he had been hurt. Kevin felt good knowing that someone understood him. It opened itself up and suggested he huff some more. It was like a beautiful kiss that seemed to last forever and spots started to appear in his vision. Like that very first kiss under the stars on that beautiful clear moonlit night. The street lamps had a laser effect and trailed for quite a distance. The bag now appeared to be bouncing to the music and it had a big smiley face. It winked at him as if to say "I love you Kevin" The bag said in his ex-girlfriend's voice.
"You don't exist, Shayla!" He shouted, tears streaming down his face. "I only love my Happy Bag now, and she loves me. We'll be strong together"
He huffed a bit more, but now his vision was getting very blurry and his eyes were heavy. Kevin wanted to fall asleep.
"Kiss me" The bag implored him. "And don't let go. We'll never let go, we'll be together forever"
"Together Forever" was the next song on Kevin's mix cd. It was that wonderful Hixxy and Bannaman mix. Hixxy was real, he was a famous Dj and Kevin had seen pictures of him, but he was convinced that Bannaman was a figment of Hixxy's imagination that only came out at certain times, when the mix was really happy and hardcore. The singer, though female, had a somewhat masculine voice and it made him feel all tingly down inside. He'd once read a review that called this stuff "House music on Speed" and it only made him want it more. There was something so pretentious and charming. House was trying too hard to be serious, but the Happy Hardcore was blatantly ridiculous and over the top as if to say "We're crazy, we're insane, and no one will ever take us seriously," which explained why it appealed so much to Kevin and his generation. Shayla didn't like it though. She listened to popular stuff and country. How unoriginal and boring that was. And then there was Avril Lavigne and her complaint music about unpleasant relationships. The songs were all basically the same, but they were about different unpleasant relationships. It was like she didn't learn anything from the last song. She needed a good dose of prozac and Happy Hardcore. The happy hardcore made Kevin feel good, which was needed more and more these days with his life falling apart.
"But my life won't fall apart as long as I have you" He told the bag.
"...This is forever so please be mine..." The bag lip synced.
"I will" Kevin agreed.
And that was all the giant yellow smiley-faced demigod needed to hear. Kevin and his Happy Bag kissed long and deep. He passed out and went into convulsions, causing the car to swerve violently. It rubbed up against the side of the bridge scraping metal and causing some really exciting sparks. It bounced to the other side, crossing the center line, but this time it had enough momentum and bounce to jump the railing and guard rail. Kevin and his thrashed sports car ended up thirty feet down in the lake. It was a total mystery as to what had happened to him, it was like he dropped off the face of the Earth. A few people reported him missing, but there were no serious attempts to find him as the Happy Bag was the only other...thing that ever really cared about him. It was a give and take relationship: Kevin gave and the Bag took. But ultimately, it was the happy faced demigod that came out on top. He bounced up and down perpetually to a constant mix of every Happy Hardcore song from the past, present, and future occurring all at the same time. It added another desciple to its growing list of sacrifices and stirred its giant vat of Methylinedioxymethamphetamine; an endless supply.
"Who do you think created this stuff? Merck?"
More and more people were hearing the voice (the music) and tasting the rainbow (the drugs). Listen to the voice, but don't taste the rainbow.
"Once you taste that rainbow, you're mine" The happy face warned.