A thousand years ago into the future I divided by zero. (Bonus level)
A stream of conscious thought pitter about from the back of my pineal eye and unto my finger tips. "Hello, is anybody getting this?" The radio signals beamed the last remaining human voice unto outer-space, everything rushes by like a stream of bright hot lights caught in a low shutter, "This is Rick Alcor, broadcasting in no definition, does anyone copy?" He knew it was going to be his last broadcast, at least in this form anyway, so he wasted no time going through the proper rituals of setting up the grand show. "I really can't tell you exactly how it got to this point but, There aren't going to be anymore lies tonight on the show, all the liARrrrrs and deciEVARS--h-h-h- either lay dead or are in the process of seeing the big picture, it all could have been as a play on words too--- But I digress..."
Meanwhile back at the ranch a herd of methane spewing bovine made the critical error of reaching their divine potential, the Martians weren't going to be happy about this, the containment fleet was already on its way and contrary to popular belief, Martians hate, HATE getting into their spaceships and making a show, but this time it was personal.
"It all started with a flock of birds, coming from Haiti, we should have known this by the [INAUDIBLE for 5 SECONDS] but by the time we figured it all out, it was meant to be" The voice spoke calmly, "Now the only way through hell is walking a path paved with good intentions, don't forget your shotgun and med-pack" A slight change in tonality indicated that Rick was losing it... It was meant to be anyway.
Luckily for us, a small family down in Atlanta Georgia had won a once in a lifetime (guaranteed) time-travel package set up by the Appalachian order of Golden Magickians; the president of the United States was already on his way to the white picket fenced door, his body guard holding a suitcase filled with all the proverbial codes to a self inflicted apocalypse in case the head of the household refused to open the sealed envelope. Luckil for us, his name was Jared.
The Martian fleet commander's brow was tense with tenuous tension [EDITOR'S NOTE: In reality Martians have no brow, since they are made of pure imagination, but even imaginary beings break out into cold sweats and form brows if reality becomes this unbearable] He reached for his command Vox and spoke the words that have since become the quintessential symbol solidarity all across the universe " +O* " his voice boomed, " %$# F12 CTRL ALT DEL 3n(I-I I L@I)@?" The sound of a (n amount) cheering little gray [and imaginary] voices echoed across the conch shell and reverbirated immediately to the ear of the crab nebula... The rest as they say, was not History... though those fucking cows should have known what was coming to them.
Jared and his family safely arrived to November 22 1963, Dallas Texas; however because of a slight error in parallel reconstruction (Magickians are still working out all the bugs in time travel), their Dog Fido was lost in Gehenna forever, but the demon parrot that had replaced him was pretty neat for a soul-bargain. It was as I recall a particularly queer day, the confetti had been replaced with ashen debris from the volcanic disembowelmenst of Pompeii, the crowd wouldn't notice anyway. Jared kissed his family good bye and headed North by Northwest to the gray building to do the job. it was 12:00 o'clock and thirty minutes away from 12:30; the Elder gods were very anal about punctuality [and esotericism] that day. A man in a black suit, dark sunglasses and a kitschy name tag was waiting for him in the roof top, Jared was moments away from getting things right and making the biggest mistake of his bowling career [EDITORS NOTE: based on empirical evidence salvaged from that day, the name tag in question reads HELLO! MY NAME IS HARVEY O].
Rick's pupils were so dilated that his eyes had a center of shimmering blue "Pay close attention, if you get distracted now I will lose the bet and I can't afford forty thousand dollars right now" His hands were greased in sweat. "Buy the Oats, it's the only way, everything else is what they want you to think" But Rick knew it was too late, his wife Jackie was calling to him all the way from Terra, his car was waiting for him by the hotel entrance, at least he could afford forty grand back then... Rick straightened his tie and walked out the door. Had he walked away 32 light-years later, he would have gotten his pardon from the governor of the meta verse, but his vermilion shaped phone will have to endure the voice mail of the aegis forevermore.
Back at the ranch the cows had already appointed who would be the one to deliver them to the promised land, it was a Lama named Steve. Steve used to think his life was complicated back then, but what was gonna happen now made everything look like the Caramel Apple he stole from a six year old at the County fair in 2003 B.C... "Those were such simpler times," he thought to himself as he ascended the sacred steps, "I wonder if it was the butterfly flapping his wings or the massacre of the Hmong... Eh" he shrugged as the psychic power of a Billion sacred cows smashed into his very existence, dividing skin from the rind in an instant before instance; being immortalized in a state of Platonic perfection had its price and Steve had unsubsidized loans with interest on top of all this. All in all it worked out. The binary universe created by his paradoxical notions of truth created a world in which the Martians massacred all the cows and saved them all at the same time, it was a compromising feeling and Steve didn't know how to feel about it, but coped anyway.
Jared opened the door to the roof and got in line behind Jared, he had never seen the birthmark his wife always teased him for, but he was still distracted by the weird outfit he had to wear, people in the sixties were too colorful for his tastes, but since the sealed envelope said "One should always kill time in style" he had to comply with the standards. Each Jared took a turn exactly at twelve thirty, and disappeared to their proper time zones immediately after. Jared was getting antsy and needed to use the bathroom, he asked the Jared in front of him if he could switch, luckily Jared was a nice guy and agreed to switch only if he could switch with Jared later [EDITOR'S NOTE: The ramifications of that switch has been attributed to the invention of the telephone, the birth of the Milky Way and the Death of the electric car as we know it, Jared's court trial is coming up yesterday and all current investigations deem his case as null-set match with 42 death sentences] The two men shook on it and parted ways.
Jared stepped up to the man in the black suit, "Sorry to keep you waiting, but post-modernism is a bitch" The man nodded in silence, behind those sunglasses even a Layman such as Jared could tell that he was irritated, it's difficult to wait an eternity and be a patient man at the same time... At least he had a nice suit. Jared steadied his rifle on the edge of the building and looked through the scope and was genuinely surprised to find his Bowling buddy Rick waving to the crowd below him. Their eyes met, both men knew that they would never get to the semi finals now (definitely NOT with this attitude) But it was meant to be anyway... Jared pulled the trigger and arrived with his family at the Dairy Queen just like the envelope had said they would, Rick's wife was with them too, she still hadn't recovered from her husband's sudden disappearance into the Bermuda triangle last august, but at least his child was having a good time, "he looks so much like him" she thought, holding back her metaphysical tears [EDITOR'S NOTE: Rick's child John Fitzgerald, is actually adopted, but there is empirical evidence of an affair that Rick had behind his wife's back sometime between the Cows' divination and the Martian Deliverance of 2012, a DNA test has been denied by Rick's wife, but the department of time-crime is in the process of getting the subpoena that will lead to the landing on the moon]. The burgers were ready, Jared slowly bit into his lunch and was immediately struck with divine inspiration, he was to leave his wife and family forever and walk into the nearest subway station. The rest as you all know my friends, is redacted history.
[Editor's final note: No animals were harmed during the making of this historical text, even though I must add, the cows had it fucking coming to them.]
Meanwhile back at the ranch a herd of methane spewing bovine made the critical error of reaching their divine potential, the Martians weren't going to be happy about this, the containment fleet was already on its way and contrary to popular belief, Martians hate, HATE getting into their spaceships and making a show, but this time it was personal.
"It all started with a flock of birds, coming from Haiti, we should have known this by the [INAUDIBLE for 5 SECONDS] but by the time we figured it all out, it was meant to be" The voice spoke calmly, "Now the only way through hell is walking a path paved with good intentions, don't forget your shotgun and med-pack" A slight change in tonality indicated that Rick was losing it... It was meant to be anyway.
Luckily for us, a small family down in Atlanta Georgia had won a once in a lifetime (guaranteed) time-travel package set up by the Appalachian order of Golden Magickians; the president of the United States was already on his way to the white picket fenced door, his body guard holding a suitcase filled with all the proverbial codes to a self inflicted apocalypse in case the head of the household refused to open the sealed envelope. Luckil for us, his name was Jared.
The Martian fleet commander's brow was tense with tenuous tension [EDITOR'S NOTE: In reality Martians have no brow, since they are made of pure imagination, but even imaginary beings break out into cold sweats and form brows if reality becomes this unbearable] He reached for his command Vox and spoke the words that have since become the quintessential symbol solidarity all across the universe " +O* " his voice boomed, " %$# F12 CTRL ALT DEL 3n(I-I I L@I)@?" The sound of a (n amount) cheering little gray [and imaginary] voices echoed across the conch shell and reverbirated immediately to the ear of the crab nebula... The rest as they say, was not History... though those fucking cows should have known what was coming to them.
Jared and his family safely arrived to November 22 1963, Dallas Texas; however because of a slight error in parallel reconstruction (Magickians are still working out all the bugs in time travel), their Dog Fido was lost in Gehenna forever, but the demon parrot that had replaced him was pretty neat for a soul-bargain. It was as I recall a particularly queer day, the confetti had been replaced with ashen debris from the volcanic disembowelmenst of Pompeii, the crowd wouldn't notice anyway. Jared kissed his family good bye and headed North by Northwest to the gray building to do the job. it was 12:00 o'clock and thirty minutes away from 12:30; the Elder gods were very anal about punctuality [and esotericism] that day. A man in a black suit, dark sunglasses and a kitschy name tag was waiting for him in the roof top, Jared was moments away from getting things right and making the biggest mistake of his bowling career [EDITORS NOTE: based on empirical evidence salvaged from that day, the name tag in question reads HELLO! MY NAME IS HARVEY O].
Rick's pupils were so dilated that his eyes had a center of shimmering blue "Pay close attention, if you get distracted now I will lose the bet and I can't afford forty thousand dollars right now" His hands were greased in sweat. "Buy the Oats, it's the only way, everything else is what they want you to think" But Rick knew it was too late, his wife Jackie was calling to him all the way from Terra, his car was waiting for him by the hotel entrance, at least he could afford forty grand back then... Rick straightened his tie and walked out the door. Had he walked away 32 light-years later, he would have gotten his pardon from the governor of the meta verse, but his vermilion shaped phone will have to endure the voice mail of the aegis forevermore.
Back at the ranch the cows had already appointed who would be the one to deliver them to the promised land, it was a Lama named Steve. Steve used to think his life was complicated back then, but what was gonna happen now made everything look like the Caramel Apple he stole from a six year old at the County fair in 2003 B.C... "Those were such simpler times," he thought to himself as he ascended the sacred steps, "I wonder if it was the butterfly flapping his wings or the massacre of the Hmong... Eh" he shrugged as the psychic power of a Billion sacred cows smashed into his very existence, dividing skin from the rind in an instant before instance; being immortalized in a state of Platonic perfection had its price and Steve had unsubsidized loans with interest on top of all this. All in all it worked out. The binary universe created by his paradoxical notions of truth created a world in which the Martians massacred all the cows and saved them all at the same time, it was a compromising feeling and Steve didn't know how to feel about it, but coped anyway.
Jared opened the door to the roof and got in line behind Jared, he had never seen the birthmark his wife always teased him for, but he was still distracted by the weird outfit he had to wear, people in the sixties were too colorful for his tastes, but since the sealed envelope said "One should always kill time in style" he had to comply with the standards. Each Jared took a turn exactly at twelve thirty, and disappeared to their proper time zones immediately after. Jared was getting antsy and needed to use the bathroom, he asked the Jared in front of him if he could switch, luckily Jared was a nice guy and agreed to switch only if he could switch with Jared later [EDITOR'S NOTE: The ramifications of that switch has been attributed to the invention of the telephone, the birth of the Milky Way and the Death of the electric car as we know it, Jared's court trial is coming up yesterday and all current investigations deem his case as null-set match with 42 death sentences] The two men shook on it and parted ways.
Jared stepped up to the man in the black suit, "Sorry to keep you waiting, but post-modernism is a bitch" The man nodded in silence, behind those sunglasses even a Layman such as Jared could tell that he was irritated, it's difficult to wait an eternity and be a patient man at the same time... At least he had a nice suit. Jared steadied his rifle on the edge of the building and looked through the scope and was genuinely surprised to find his Bowling buddy Rick waving to the crowd below him. Their eyes met, both men knew that they would never get to the semi finals now (definitely NOT with this attitude) But it was meant to be anyway... Jared pulled the trigger and arrived with his family at the Dairy Queen just like the envelope had said they would, Rick's wife was with them too, she still hadn't recovered from her husband's sudden disappearance into the Bermuda triangle last august, but at least his child was having a good time, "he looks so much like him" she thought, holding back her metaphysical tears [EDITOR'S NOTE: Rick's child John Fitzgerald, is actually adopted, but there is empirical evidence of an affair that Rick had behind his wife's back sometime between the Cows' divination and the Martian Deliverance of 2012, a DNA test has been denied by Rick's wife, but the department of time-crime is in the process of getting the subpoena that will lead to the landing on the moon]. The burgers were ready, Jared slowly bit into his lunch and was immediately struck with divine inspiration, he was to leave his wife and family forever and walk into the nearest subway station. The rest as you all know my friends, is redacted history.
[Editor's final note: No animals were harmed during the making of this historical text, even though I must add, the cows had it fucking coming to them.]