archive: another $10 science fiction idea-- will someone give me 5?
Pappillomavirus saves the planet. Through some quirk of microbiological fate, only those exposed at some point during their lives are able to fight off a different deadly virus. Not as many Christians bite it as you would think (I almost wrote "as you would like," but that seemed overly nasty.) Wart chic becomes fashionable. Even warts on noses and hands become cool. "You can't fool me, that's just a mole. Next you'll trying to pass off your pimples as beauty marks."
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A dream:
Honna and I have just got on the Greyhound bus. We talk about all the different types of people you find on the bus. "There's the lonely brainy girl. She'll sit in the front." "Where's the shirtless sailor guy? You know, the one who'll get the runaway smalltown girl to sit on his lap?" "i think she's in the bathroom crying." We start to sing X's "Please Come Back to Me." "I cry and talk to you through the bathroom wall."
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Pharmboy:
"I feel Jecked. You know injected, rejected, subjected."
"Call me Dr. Jeckyll, and roll up your sleeve."
"Very funny, doc."
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Spacemummy fesses up
Kind people. All that I've told you is a lie. I'm not human. I never was. I was sent here 3500 years ago as part of an invasion force against the Assyrians. Our mission: bring monotheism and bad fashion to the planet earth. It was the worst kind of cultural imperialism. I'm the last of my kind here.
I thought I could survive here indefinitely. But, as I write this, some of your highly trained human forces are moving against me. Lead by a seemingly hysterical Attorney General, they make further inroads to taking their final prisoner in a war that has lasted millenia. Yeay, I wait for the axe to fall.
But ask yourselves this. Was it worth it? You survived by becoming warlike, fighting us and each other till you are red, red, red. So now that we're gone, can you dismantle your paranoid defenses and settle down to do some actual living?
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"Slip me some Freudian flippygisms." -- Moongirl, when I showed her Freud's book on humor
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trying to flesh out "Signals":
"So, why are you here?"
"Well, when I was born, I was given inaliable rights. Or so I was told. And I don't think the gov't should be able to take them away just because they label you a suspected terrorist or whatever."
"Sounds like you've been practicing that speech."
"For a long time."
"So what do you do?"
"I make neonware, glowtits, pornware, zippercam display shirts. I made the 'Debbie Does Dali' fiberop tanktops. The edgy arttypes like it."
"Ok, so I see what kind of soulsucking shit you're running away from."
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Malapropisms for breakfast
Spacemummy:(seeing his food) Nothin says lovin like something from the oven.
HeWhoWalks: hahaha. That's funny.
Spacemummy: I got it from Bananas magazine. It was on the cover in a word balloon over Meatloaf's head.
HeWhoWalks: Bananas, is that some kind of punk thing?
Spacemummy: No, it was a magazine you could order through some scholastic book club in grade school.
HeWhoWalks: So it's a prehensile memory?
Spacemummy: Yes, I had a tail then.
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What I remember from the dream with post-hypnagogic extrapolations
I had been hired by the group to do a radio interview with one of their leaders. They were extremely paranoid. In fact, they all seemed to be paranoid schizophrenics. And not the funny kind. I was flown in blindfolded on a helicopter. When I arrived, the handler sat me down in the chair and put headphones on my head. We tested the sound. Then he put a dirty fishbowl on my head so that I couldn't see the person I was interviewing. I shrugged it off. After all, it was a radio interview. I tricked them by leaving my body to look around their compound. I flew like Qetzalcoatl around the area that appeared to be an amusement park. I discovered that my family was visiting and there I was, 8 years old, along with them. My parents were clued in to the fact that amusement parks are carefully designed laboratories for testing future government and military operatives. Puking on one of the rides could garner you a desk job. When I returned to my body, I knew I had plenty of questions to ask.
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Ignore this if you despise fools and their rambling
I have a mind like a jellyfish. (And can't be counted on when serious thought is demanded) I drank so much coffee that my ADD is kicking in. I can't work so I sit here, my eye turns inward and I dream of people with big pimples on their scalps that ooze psychoactives, fiends chase them around trying to lick them. Is there any hope for the dolphins, the elephants and all the other empathic creatures of the world? Imagine the mute frustration. But I can feel them organizing. Where was the network of support for the dolphin that went awol? There was no Canada for this creature. The elephants can send low frequency sounds through the ground with their trunks. The frequency is around 5 hertz or so, according to my linguist friend. It occurs to me now that's the same frequency that the earth itself is resonating at. Perhaps there is a two-way communication there. Do you have a bong commodius enough for that one? And whatever you do, don't point at the monkey. I'll take a pipe cutter to your finger.