oddities of time and space

Volume 1

by Christofori and Cryssalid

(The IRC Version of this story is also available.)

* * *

You've lost all sense of reason. Your mind is floating in a nameless, colorless, odorless, soundless, tasteless void. Little fingers poke and prod as your mind floats by, but you can't smell them.

A banana is tossed into your ear, but you can't taste it. Fly by the moon of your mind, the adult sine wave singes your nostrils as it bleeps through the course unknown via telekinetic viscosity.

Suddenly, as you approach what seems to be a bar for lonely outcast killer-elks you watch in awe as exuberant mice run amok at the chilling notion of collective grapes falling from trees that stretch their tails higher and further towards the depths of the monkey as it whisks it's hand back and forth along it's long, sensuous love machine of doom.

The Love Machine of Doom... legend to some, unbelievable to some, and a to some, it's a memory they will never be able to forget. It's raw pleasure has etched itself upon the minds of the ones it has enslaved.... But that was a long time ago. Now, much as they would like to forget it's incredible power; the sheer delight, as it fell on them; crushing their bones to a soft pulp of acidic ooze, which leaks out over the plains and runs from geese flying overhead, threatening to overwhelm the small communities of nine toed rhino-cow crossovers that inhabit the lush green plains. Slowly the acidic ooze, which by a freak chemical reaction with a high percentage of calvin klein aftershave in the air, now also caused massive cracks to form in the sea, and subsequently the fish plummeted into volcanoes of joyous stars, which plummeted into the canyon long ago and have since become one with the world we now know.

Such things happen with such frequency that they often cause huge balls of an (as of yet) unknown substance to float up from the seas... these huge balls are organic in nature but so far tests have been unable to determine what they are... they only float at the surface for about 23 minutes before they mutate into gelatinous blobs, which jiggle and wiggle in many ways as they continue to float.

Some of them crash into the surface of Mars to investigate, just to see if there can be found any evidence of juice, which is widely known to be a pure, life-giving sweet nectar that spurts from the end of my Love machine of doom.

Again, the circle is complete, and another one of life's mysteries is finally revealed, stripped naked, raped and put together again in a nice manageable piece to look at. However, it seems someone forgot to tie the bow which sits atop the nice, manageable piece; as it's sitting there with it's legs crossed, much like a nobleman from the age of unreasonably idiotic tracks which sit in the newdir.

In times such as these, it seems the only thing to do is to close the world for tonight. Let the newdir rest, for like the stupidities of George Bush will always regenerate, how many wrongs you correct matters not. New crap shall enter the newdir, there is a day tomorrow as well... and crap always heaps up.

I shall proceed to lay down and sleep now. And pray the elks are busy tonight and that the star of Elune will shine down on the parts of my body that for some reason sometime during the night are not covered by the blanket of snow which fell from a large woman's rear-end last week. It's expansive, thick coldness flooded the world with sleeeeep.

* * *

The End..
Or is it?
[Top of Page]