I can’t go to bed. Maybe I don’t want to. Whenever I spend a day of doing nothing, I always have to go out with a big bang. Maybe it will make me feel like I accomplished something. Sometimes I can fool myself. I’m fooling myself right now. Thinking this is going to go anywhere. Thinking anyone is going to care about what I’m about to type. I don’t even know what I’m about to type. I’m just doing this for entertainment. ENTERTAINMENT. Nobody reads for entertainment anymore. Not unless there’s at least a picture.
So here’s a picture.
I went through a lot of trouble to make that. But it was necessary.
I’ll tell you what else is necessary. That you know who West is. I can’t give out his last name. It’s confidential. West is his first name.
West is this guy who I just made up. He grew up in a town called Bakersfield. I made that up too. Bakersfield is in Kansas (But not really). Bakersfield is next to Allentown. Allentown consists of exactly 10,000 residents. Bakersfield consists of exactly 100. But it won’t by the end of the story.
Most of the residents of Bakersfield are West’s relatives. If they aren’t blood related, they are somehow related in marriage. The majority of his classmates are his first cousins. There’s Cindy Lou and Sarah Michelle and Charles and Marcus and Anna-
Oh Anna. Sweet Anna. Everybody loved Anna. She was a ballerina and a hip-hop dancer. She was elegant and yet ready to break it down whenever the need arose. Her beats were as fresh as a baby’s bottom. And she knew it too, because she got knocked up at age 16. Now she’s known as Mama Anna. But everybody still loves her. The boy who knocked her up was Jonathan Brumsford. He’s the senior quarterback for the Bakersfield high school’s football team. He and Anna didn’t stay together, but still see each other at school and family reunions. They are second cousins.
Sweet Anna’s baby boy, Benjamin, became the 100th resident of Bakersfield. There was no party thrown for this occasion, however, because no one apart from myself was aware of it.
And of course Old Grand-Pee’s been dead for the past seven years. They say his spirit lives on in Baby Benjamin. Except Grand-Pee didn’t have down syndrome. Everybody in the family loved that old guy. Heck I loved him. And maybe West loved him too, but Old Grand-Pee never liked West for the simple fact that West was an idiot.
Some people can’t help being an idiot. It seems so very rude to single someone out and say, “Hey! You’re a goddamn MORON!” But that’s what West was. And sometimes we can’t help what we are. Grand-Pee knew that too. He was just a grumpy old man and grumpy old men get grumpy when they learn the sad truth that they’re brain is going to shut off soon. Sometimes they like to single someone out of the crowd to attack. Usually it’s the one that’s most defenseless, like West. May he rest in peace.
When West was eight he had been diagnosed with ADD. That was all they could figure out. Silly doctors. Yeah he had ADD, but let me tell you, he had plenty of other things going wrong for him.
When West was twelve he found a beehive and ate the honey straight out of it. He nearly died from the swelling of the bee stings. His cousin Sarah Michelle would have died. She’s highly allergic to bees. But Sarah Michelle would never stick her hand in a beehive. Being allergic to bee stings is about all that’s lacking in Sarah Michelle. That’s why West doesn’t care for her. She’s smart. And she’s always too busy studying in school to have time for West or nearly anyone else.
Although Winnie the Pooh is the first person that might come to you’re mind when describing West, I wouldn’t doubt Eeyor might fit him just as well.
West has a younger brother name Todd. Todd hates West on account of his stupidity. West knows it, but doesn’t care. West loves everybody no matter what they say or do. There aren’t many people in the world like that. West is lucky in this instance. Because his brain is so obscured, when he reached his puberty years, he didn’t grow normally. All the testosterone he managed to produce went straight to his wiener. So instead of watching wrestling matches with Todd, West would stare outside at Emma Johnson his next-door neighbor, whom I agree is a total babe.
Ten years later in New York City, Todd’s days of watching wrestling will pay off, as he will end up overdrinking one night with his best friend Andy Goodbody, and find out later that night, after an intense dude fight, their true feelings for each other. Andy will be Todd’s first boyfriend. Andy’s last name fits his physique horribly. There is nothing good about his oversized pear shape. But first boyfriends never have good bodies.
2
Good morning. Or should I say good afternoon. I woke up about an hour ago. It’s 3 pm.
The people that live above me want me dead. Maybe it’s the other way around.
The space that separates us, my ceiling, their floor, is hollow. This apartment complex was around in the 70’s, so I wouldn’t say it’s new. The wood creaks. I hear every movement the people above me make. I can tell what room they’re in at any given time. And they always seem to be in the room above mine. I was wearing earplugs for the first few months of living hear. Then I gave up. I let them win.
I had to move to the living room this morning to finish my sleeping. They’re on a different sleep schedule than I am. They’re on, you know, the normal one.
I’m thinking about moving. My roommate doesn’t want to. Screw him. I’m moving.
“Leave me alone,” says West. Jonathan Brumsford and his buddy Mikey Malloy throw pencils at West’s face. The whole class laughs. Mr. Johnson, the Kinesiology teacher, who is also West’s neighbor, laughs as well.
“Guys come one. Pay attention,” says Mr. Johnson after he gets a hold of himself and is ready to start the class up again.
The two football players stop, but only for the fact that Mr. Johnson is also their coach, which is pretty much like their own father, or at least their favorite uncle. It just so happens that Mr. Johnson is Mikey’s uncle. But if you were to ask him, Mikey would say his favorite uncle is actually Uncle Bill, because Uncle Bill is rich and lives in California, and sends Mikey a $100 dollar check every month in the mail. Mikey has never actually met Uncle Bill, but he sure is his favorite!
West is a senior in high school. But like I said earlier, West is not bright, and would never have made it to senior year anywhere else apart from his hometown of Bakersfield. West’s mother, Mary, helps him with his homework every day. She doesn’t actually help him. I should rephrase that. She does it for him. This is only possible because she doesn’t work. Everyday she stays home and works on West’s projects while he is in school, and then when he gets home, she tells him to go play outside so she can get his overnight homework finished.
She could have home-schooled West after he had reached his learning peak, which was fourth grade. But Mary doesn’t want people to learn of West’s handicap, even though it’s pretty obvious to his classmates, and anyone else who spends more than an hour with him.
Tests. Tests you would think would have done him in. Not at Bakersfield High. At Bakersfield High they don’t have tests or exams. They figured that tests were only for people who had good memory, and would just memorize the definitions or answers etc. They heard this crazy idea from some education researchers from Indiana. They showed a few examples and studies to their hypothesis and the Bakersfield High faculty was convinced. The people from Bakersfield listen to anyone more intelligent than them in education. And they should rightfully so. Bakersfield doesn’t have a college, and no one who lives there has ever attended any. Tests would have forced West to be home-schooled, or possibly go off to a “special” school somewhere out of town where he might actually learn something.
…
At home, West isn’t made fun of as much. His parents treat him like he’s a normal healthy boy. If West suggests something he wants to do, his parents encourage him and say, “Hey, that’s a swell idea!” even if it’s something dumb like going feed the ducks at the pond PB&Js. West figured if ducks like bread so much, they would love peanut butter and jelly sitting in between two slices. He didn’t know that ducks can’t eat peanut butter because it gets stuck inside their throats and causes them to suffocate.
He also didn’t know a similar fact, that dogs can’t eat chocolate. That was the real reason Muffles died last spring. And they said it was diabetes!
Now I wouldn’t call West a murderer. Sure, when he was ten he accidentally killed one of the boys at his school, Gregory Templeton, in a fun game of Cowboys and Indians, but West was only doing what any young boy would have done. Gregory was one of the Cowboys, and West, being denied a spot in the game, played anyways, as an Indian. According to the rules, the Cowboys are supposed to chase the Indians, preferably with toy guns. West didn’t know this, and so acted like a real Indian would have done, and attacked back. Now I did say earlier that West is a nonviolent type of person, but he’s also a great role-player, and when he gets into character, there’s no stopping him from brutal retaliation. The game lasted all recess, and West was constantly told to go away and that he wasn’t even in the game. West didn’t understand them because he was in Indian character, and of course Indians didn’t understand English.
The great climactic ending came when West and Gregory were standing on the top of the monkey bars, dueling it out. Gregory had a toy gun in his hand. West didn’t have shit. So West, evening out the odds, karate chopped (or Indian chopped) Gregory’s gun out of his hand. It was now an even fight. The game was no longer Cowboys and Indians, but American Gladiator. Gregory went for a low jab at West’s ribs. West went down awkwardly trying to stay on the bars that separated him and Gregory from the ground ten feet below. Quickly recovering from his stumble, West, screaming “Ayayayayai!!” in his Indian voice, did a break-dance leg-spin move, twisting his body 360 degrees, tripping poor Gregory to a headfirst plunge into the rock cement below. Gregory died instantly from a devastating head concussion. And I learned Indians could break-dance.
So I wouldn’t call West a murderer. Or even a killer. Going along with the expression, he really wouldn’t hurt a fly. If he did, it was of course on accident, because West loves all of God’s creatures.
He thinks at dinner tonight with his tiny brain, if we are all made equal, what gives us the right to kill anything? Shouldn’t all creatures love one another? He then goes on eating his steak.
In West’s eyes we are all murderers. But this is how life goes. If we are in fact all of God’s creatures, as West’s mother tells him, then that cockroach I killed last night was my fifteen thousandth ticket straight to the fiery pits below.
3
There was a meteor shower the other night. I missed it. This has happened before. In fact, it has happened every time. I think I may have seen a meteor shower one time. One time.
I’ve always wanted to see a meteor once it has landed. You know, like on the ground. I’ve planned out what I’m going to say in the case that I do come across a meteor: “Here’s to you meteor, and your days of stardom.” And of course I’ll have a beer in my hand, and the guys and I will drink to the occasion.
I love space. I love West.
You’re probably wondering about West’s father, and why his mother Mary doesn’t have to work. I’ll tell you real quick.
West’s father, Tom, is a mechanic. Tom doesn’t make much money being a mechanic. But the reason his wife stays home is that when Tom was twenty-seven, he had invented The Rustanator, which is a miracle rust cleaner, which “terminates” the rust forever. Tom didn’t actually make the formula, but he took the credit for it, and patented it. He got in business with George Hoffman and Ruffus Digsmore. Ruffus Digsmore is the actual creator of the substance. Ruffus is known for his crazy inventions, but always ends up getting them stolen from somebody else, so that Ruffus really isn’t known by anyone as someone of importance or genius.
Tom liked the simple life of being a mechanic; he just wanted some extra money for his early retirement. Don’t we all? Tom and George eventually sold The Rustanator to a big company, but each still get ten percent of the profit. And if you knew anything about this fictional product, you’d know, these guys are rich!
…
Now, I need to warn you. This next part is going to be tough. Hang in there. Here we go.
In honor of my fascination with space, I’m going to go off subject for a bit and talk to you about a planet called Tesla. Now don’t get the wrong impression. This is very important. Why is it important you ask? Does it have to do with West? Does it even have to do with the story?
Stop asking so many questions.
So this planet, Tesla, is part of the Romulus Nebula in the 4th Star district. It has three moons, and mostly consists of rocks, gas, and a silver liquid similar to water. None of that is important. I just said it to sound smart. But don’t forget who is important. West. And this planet, you guessed it, is West’s birth planet.
Alright, you probably didn’t guess that. That was probably the last thing you would have guessed. I mean, you probably had no idea this story is science fiction!
No its not.
It’s just a story. It doesn’t fit into a category. And West doesn’t fit into a category. And I don’t fit into a category. And you don’t fit into a category. We are all unique.
Tesla is unique. There are two types of species that dominate the planet: the Fevras and the Migruns. The Fevras are a species almost identical to humans, except for a slightly smaller brain. West is a Fevra, which explains the lack of intelligence. And don’t ask how he got to Earth, because you’ll sound impatient.
Now the Migruns are very strange creatures. They look similar to humans and Fevras, except that they’re skin is stone grey, and they have no hair. Also, they don’t have bones. No they aren’t jell-o bodies! That would be silly. How would they move around? Well I supposed with muscles maybe- but it doesn’t matter, because the Migruns are made of Arselnine. On planet Tesla, Arselnine is similar to stone on Earth except it is flexible and able to move. Another important difference is that when Arselnine is dosed in fire, it turns to a material similar to skin. The same happens when the Migrun’s body is near fire.
Tesla is a much older planet than Earth. The Fevras and Migruns have inhabited the planet for over two million years. There are many stories on how the evolution of the two species came to be. Only one person knows what really happened.
That’s right, God.
Oh you thought I was going to say myself? No, that wouldn’t make any sense. I made up West. The planet Tesla is real. I went there once. That’s how I’m able to tell you about it. I met the Fevras and the Migruns. I also met many other pleasantly ridiculous creatures there.
One creature, called the Verabus, looked just like a big pile of snot mucus on the floor, except with a face. Oh and it had the cutest face! Picture the cutest little baby you have ever seen, and then multiply it by a million and you still won’t come close to the Verabus.
There was another creature on that planet, and this one by far was my favorite. Its name was Pontileaf. The Pontileaf was a creature that resembled a Velociraptor. If you don’t know what a Velociraptor is, it’s a dinosaur that may or may not have ever existed on Earth, depending on what your parents and priest tell you. But the Velociraptor was a cunning creature, with great stealth, and sharp claws that were great for ripping apart the belly of a Brachiosaurus. If you don’t know what a Brachiosaurus is, look it up because I need to get back to the story.
The amazing creature, the Pontileaf, resembled a Velociraptor, apart from its skin and eyes. The eyes, which were neon green, were biologically equipped with night vision. I know this because the Pontileafs told me. Anyway-
What? Oh, yes, they could talk. Yes, they spoke English. That was their native language. Ha, now that I look back at it, it is a bit funny. I mean, who would have guessed a creature from another planet would speak the same language as my own?
Anyways, the Pontileaf had a brain twice as large as a human’s, three times as large as a Fevra’s, and ten times as large as a Migrun’s. The Pontileafs were almost an unstoppable species, with their giant brains, speed, stealth, large claws and teeth, and of course the night vision. So now you’re thinking, why weren’t the Pontileafs the dominant creatures on planet Tesla?
Well here’s where God goofed:
The Pontileaf’s skin and body, instead of resembling a dinosaur/lizard material, was similar to paper. It was so frail, that when they let me step on one of their tails to see for myself, the whole thing fell off. Now of course their tails grew back like a lizard’s, so it wasn’t a big deal. But come on! Way to screw it God! This may explain the Pontileafs being atheists. Or maybe it’s their brain size…
So now if you can imagine: three species, one resembling humans, one made of stone only vulnerable by fire, and one made of paper. And an important thing I should state, at the time I arrived on planet Tesla, the Fevras had already begun building primitive weapons, and had discovered fire and had control of it for over two centuries.
The wars between the three species were very similar to a game of rock, paper, scissors. Only, the game was rigged.
It was more like fire, stab, fire. The Fevras had fire, and fire destroyed the paper of course, but also destroyed the rock because that type of rock was weakened by fire. Once weakened, the dumb Migruns were vulnerable to any sharp object the Fevras used on them.
The poor Pontileafs had it the worst, though. They’re amazing night vision was useless against the Fevras’ fire lit camps. And since they were made of paper, that fire kept them clear away. The Fevras had no trouble lighting up the Pontileafs with a touch of their torches. But when it came to the Migruns, you would naturally think paper beats rock. Well unfortunately when paper is made into origami, like the Pontileafs were, it loses its power to rap around, making a rock the perfect weapon of destruction against it.
Poor, poor Pontileafs. Before returning back to Earth, with the request of one of the head Pontileafs of whom I met, I took with me two of their offspring, one of each gender, so that they may be able to prosper on a planet without fire. I didn’t tell them Earth was the only place I could go.
…
Tonight, West lay in bed, dreaming of planet Tesla. He dreams of the magnificent Pontileafs, and wonders why anyone would want to hurt them. He cannot understand. West isn’t violent. West would never hurt anyone.
What I told you earlier is false. West is not a Fevra. West did not come from planet Tesla. West is human, and is always human, until he falls asleep and dreams once more.
4
There are a lot of things going through my head right now. Swirls of unanswered ideas I want to understand. No. I’m not going to talk about it. I just wanted you to know something’s up.
It’s 5:30 am. I light my cigarette. I guess I started smoking again.
Everyone’s asleep inside. I’m at my friend Matt’s apartment. Came in town for Thanksgiving. Yesterday was Thanksgiving. When I say yesterday I mean five hours and thirty-one minutes ago. Give or take.
Recently, I’ve found a new crowd to hang with. Well, it’s constructed of some of my old crew, you know, Matt, Pat and the gang, and a few new faces. The new faces are girls. Oh my God, yes it’s true, we have discovered girls! And what fascinating creatures they are! Especially these. Very lively with outrageous minds complementary to our own. Lovely.
I’ve had the whole week off and we have spent everyday of it hanging from bar to casa to floor, and then back again. Living on High Life. We’ve already planned a trip to go camping over the Christmas Holidays. Oh what fun!
Spending time with these people really helps distract me from the things going through my head as I briefly mentioned earlier. I don’t want to think about these things. But sooner or later I’m going to be faced with them. Just as we all are sooner or later confronted by our misfortune. I know I won’t be ready. I’m never ready. Sometimes it’s more fun that way.
I need another cigarette.
You’re probably wondering what West looks like. I’ll give you a hint. He looks like you. He looks like me. He looks exactly how you want him to be. He’s not handsome.
At school, in the cafeteria, West eats alone. He doesn’t mind. He’s never really had any friends. Some people like to treat him kindly. And he always tries to give his kindness back. Today, West’s cousin Cindy Lou passes by to say hello.
“Hey West. How are you today?” “Huh?” says West. “I said how are you?” replies Cindy. “Oh, well okay I guess.” He can’t come up with something clever enough to say in time. He’s also too slow to return the gesture. “Well that’s good,” says Cindy. “Yeah.”
Cindy Lou is no doubt the nicest of all West’s relatives. The reason for her good nature may be because nature was good to her, because she is also no doubt the most beautiful of all West’s relatives. And there’s no denying that West sometimes dreams of Cindy Lou being from a different family, so that he can make his move. Yeah right, West! You may find it gross for West dreaming of such blasphemy. I find it very normal, and there’s nothing wrong with dreaming. If only Mama Anna had learned to dream. To refresh your memory, Anna is West’s cousin who had sex with her other cousin and now has a baby boy with down syndrome. Moving on!
Yes, like I explained earlier, West loves girls. He dreams and dreams of all the different women he wants to be with. But the girl he can never get out of his mind is of course the girl he grew up with across the street, Emma.
Emma Johnson, the daughter of Mark Johnson is and has been West’s neighbor since birth. Since her birth, at least. She is one year younger than West. And ever since birth Mark Johnson and West’s father Tom have tried to get their children to befriend. When they were young, the children had no problem getting along. In fact, when West was around the age of seven, Emma kissed West on the lips, after playing a game of marriage. West was the priest. So I guess you could say West has been kissed. If that counts. I say it counts.
As West and Emma grew up, however, they also grew apart. And around the age of eleven Emma began to notice West’s defects, and they made her confused. She never laughed though; she was a very nice girl, much like Cindy Lou. She was as beautiful as Cindy Lou too, but had less of a pleasant childhood. Cindy Lou had a great childhood, with parents that loved her and lots of money to live and all that jazz. Emma on the other hand, grew up with just enough money to live a decent life, and that would have been fine, if it weren’t for her dad being an alcoholic.
When Emma was two, Mr. Johnson was charged for dealing blood diamonds at the Bakersfield Pawn Shop, of which he was the owner. After losing his job, he went on a three-year drinking frenzy while his wife worked tirelessly to pay the bills. After Tom, West’s father, convinced Mr. Johnson to attend some Alcoholics Anonymous classes, Mr. Johnson slowly got back on his feet. A year later, when Emma was at the age of eight, her father finally found a new job, as the head football coach of Bakersfield High School.
So Emma had a rough five years of her childhood. Her dad would come home late, piss drunk, and go in her room and start yelling at her. She was asleep too! How fucking rude! And guess what he would yell about. You really want to know? He would yell about how she was a mistake and a curse and the reason for him losing his job, because if it weren’t for her he wouldn’t have had to sell the illegal diamonds to save money. Of course this was true, but what a piece of shit! Sorry, but Mark Johnson is garbage, and Emma disserved a better father than that. Even though he straightened out in the end, he will never be able to repay his daughter for what he did and said to her. But this is how life goes.
Anyway, enough about Emma and her troubles, after that she grew up pretty decently, and was lucky enough to be too young to remember most of what her father said to her.
…
After school, West stares outside his window into Emma’s bedroom, and watches her undress. He watches her pull off her brown navy blue uniform shirt. He sees her black bra covering her breasts. She unbuttons her plaid skirt and pulls it down her long smooth legs revealing her black panties. She throws the skirt on the floor. And West pops a boner.
Emma changes into her comfy nightclothes and gets on her computer. She has a Dell from 2004. West has a Gateway from 1995. Ouch. He still uses a dial up connection. Well some people are a little behind on technology. If only I could speak to West. Maybe I could convince him to get a Mac. But alas, I only created him, and we all know God can’t speak to us with dialogue, unless you take the Bible literally. No, I can only speak to my characters, like God does, through supernatural phenomena, or personal spiritually enlightening signs. Like the one I did a second ago. West’s boner. That was a sign from me to West, telling him that Emma is super fine. Okay, bad example. That was more of a natural phenomenon. I’ll show you a supernatural soon enough.
West continues to watch Emma. She has a paper to type for her English class. This reminds West that he too has a paper to write for English. Now of course his mother usually writes for him. But on occasion Mrs. Mary will get a sense of hope and self-accomplishment toward her son, by helping, or giving him some of his own homework to do so that he can achieve a sort of self-understanding and a challenge of the ordinary human life.
This is just such a case. West’s assignment is to write a two-page paper on what college, if any, he will be attending after high school, and where he sees himself after that. Mary will of course edit his paper, but she finds that this will be a great opportunity for West to share with the world, or at least his class, who he is, and how he views his life.
Mary is a very sweet mother. Most mothers are.
5
I need to start learning how to smoke right-handed. I’m a silly left-hander. And I try to write while I smoke. This doesn’t work. Do not try.
I’m trying out Marlboro. They’re classy, but smell like old people. I tried quitting again two days ago. I used the nicotine gum. That lasted two days.
Oh, me. I’d love to spare you my personal troubles, but I just don’t think it would be fair. I want the world to know everything.
Recently I’ve been drinking the pain away. But now that I’m back home, and three months away from being golden twenty-one years of age, I must resort to smoking and drinking a personal choice of substitution for alcohol, that of which my friends and I call Vault. You may or may not have heard of this wonder drug. It’s basically Mountain Dew with the kick of an energy drink. That’s what it says on the label. I hate Mountain Dew. I love Vault.
The only reason I love Vault may in fact be because of its reputation between my circle of friends. We always drink it while playing Risk. Beer instead would probably rob us of the beneficial enjoyment of the game of world domination.
I guess I’m sort of talking to someone right now. It’s a girl. And she loves writing. She also loves my story probably more than I do. Not only is she helping me keep up with writing it, instead of stopping half way like I normally do, but she has also gotten me in to writing these things called ‘haikus’. Ever heard of them? They’re okay I guess. She loves them.
So here’s a haiku for the children. If not for the children per say, then for the child in all of us:
The cold makes my nose run. It makes everyone’s nose run. And that’s no fun.
I’m still learning.
Anyone can go on a written rant about his or her life, or of that so far, and that’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m anyone, and lately I have nothing better to do than to try and enlighten, or at the very least, entertain you, with my life, and West’s life, thus far.
But lets get back to West’s story, because his is much more interesting than mine for the simple fact that I get to make it up as I go. Smile.
My name is West. I am a senior at Bakersfield High. I don’t play any sports, but I like soccer. I like to watch it too. I don’t like to watch football. It’s boring, because they always have to stop and stand around and talk before they play again. My brother likes football. He is two years younger than me. His name is Todd. Todd likes to try and beat me up. He thinks he is stronger than me, but I am much bigger than him. He even works out. I don’t need to because I was born big. When we were younger I would sit and fart on his face. He doesn’t let me do that anymore. He wears styling gel now. He thinks he’s cool, but he isn’t. Well maybe he’s cooler than me. But I don’t like being cool. I like being nice. Girls like boys that are nice. And I think some girls like me at school. I hope to get a girlfriend soon. There are a lot of pretty girls at my school. But they aren’t very smart, because they always go for the big guys who treat them like shit. I guess I can say shit on here. I saw it used once in a book I sort of read. I don’t know what I am going to do when I leave high school. I’ve always wanted to play soccer, but I never made the team. I also wanted to make cartoons once, but I can’t draw. I love movies too, but I have no idea how they make them. It looks hard. Maybe I could be an actor, but I don’t know if I could remember my lines. Most people in my grade are going to college when they graduate. I don’t think I am going. I think it would be too hard for me. My mom has never told me anything about going, so I don’t think she wants me to either. I don’t want to go anyway. I want to do something else. I just don’t know what I’m going to do yet. I’ve been thinking really hard lately. I guess everyone has to have a job when they get older. I just don’t want to do something boring like my dad does. He’s a mechanic. He fixes cars. He told Todd and I one day, to never become a mechanic. I don’t know why he said that. Well I don’t want to be a mechanic anyway. I really don’t want to be anything. I don’t know if I’m smart enough to be anything. I’m not very smart. I don’t care that much though. Smart people are mean. I don’t want to be mean like them.
West has begun his paper. This will be the first page. He takes a break for the day.
Oh, and this isn’t exactly what West wrote. I had to translate it a bit so that an average person could understand it. West’s mother will edit it also before he turns it in, because she doesn’t even know I exist. She still thinks God created her. LOL.
…
When West was younger, he used to sit under an apple tree near his house. One morning, he sat there, watching the birds fly from tree to tree. Just then, an apple fell from the apple tree and hit his head.
“Ouch!” he cried.
He then picked up the apple and contemplated about how and why the apple fell down. He thought about how the birds could fly, and apples could fall, and humans could stay on the ground. He thought good and long about this. Then he gave up and went back inside.
This happened when West was in the fourth grade. Which is around the time his brain stopped growing. It’s funny, how this incident, triggered brain damage for West, and a ground breaking discovery of the force of gravity to the father of physics, Isaac Newton. But this is how life goes.
6
Well it’s the end of the semester. At least in this reality. In West’s reality they’re a little bit farther in the future. It’s better that way. That way, I can predict important global events that are going to happen and see how off I am. Let’s try it out:
Okay, in West’s reality, when Barack Obama was sworn in on February 20th 2009, he forgot to put his hand on the Bible, then awkwardly fist bumped his vice president Joe Biden while shouting, “We must protect this house!” followed by doing a Michael Jackson Moonwalk off stage.
I’ll have to wait about two months before I know how accurate I am. Probably close. Doesn’t matter though. Because that’s how it happened in West’s reality.
Things are happening now. Like I said it’s the end of the semester. So I guess it’s inevitable. Here’s a quick list of what’s happening now:
Going to my hometown for the holidays. Repeating what I did last time I went to my hometown. AKA living off High Life and traveling to bars and mi amigos’ casas. Then the floor. (We were supposed to go camping but it got canceled.) Then “Merry Christmas all I got you is a lousy book.” Then “Happy New Year we’re in recession!” Then I get my old metal filling removed from my tooth. And then I start taking the super secret formula. Then I come back to boresville. And then I decide if I want to move back to my hometown. Which I probably will. This place sucks.
Here’s a list of what happened this semester:
I moved. I stayed inside. The end.
West finished his paper on Saturday and gave it to his mom to review. She hated it. But she didn’t change anything except for the grammatical errors because she wanted it to be directly from West’s point of view.
West turned his paper in on Monday, and today, which is Wednesday, he is called up to the front of the class to read his paper. He had no idea he was suppose to read it in front of class. This is what happens:
“Well, go ahead West read us your paper,” says Mrs. Potter, West’s English teacher. West stares down at his paper. He begins to shake.
“M-my name is W-West. I am a s-senior at B-B-Bakersfield High.” “My name is West,” says a boy making a feminine voice in the back of the class.
So West painfully regurgitates his essay on his future and ambitions, or lack-there-of, to the class.
“In con-conclusion, I don’t know where I will be in a couple of years from now. I guess it doesn’t really matter. I’d like to get married and have a wife and some babies, but I just don’t want to have to work and all that. Maybe I could win the lottery. My mom opened up a savings account when I was little. So maybe I can just live off that. I don’t like thinking about my life. Sometimes I wish I were never born. But then I think about how my mom says that God has a special plan for all of us, and that makes me happy. But I don’t know God that well. I don’t think he answers my prayers. Maybe God doesn’t like me either. Nobody likes me.”
And so ends the beautiful essay by the most wonderful boy to never live.
The class is silent. West walks back to his seat with his head still facing the ground. All of West’s classmates stare at him. Some of the girls even feel bad. If they were a little smarter they’d realize there’s nothing to feel bad about. I told you, this is how life goes.
…
Having previously stated that West’s mother Mary hated his paper was an understatement. She was so upset by his essay and how he feels about his life that right after she read it she called Bakersfield High’s guidance counselor. The guidance counselor, Mrs. Neals, who had seen West many of times, said she had done all she could do. She was actually just fed up with West, because, like most teachers at the school, she was just too tired of trying to get through that solid brick wall in West’s head. He made her exhausted. So she passed the curse on to a psychiatrist she knew and recommended to West’s mother.
The psychiatrist’s name is Mrs. Shepherd, and she lives and works in Allentown. As I informed you right at the beginning of the story, Allentown is right next to Bakersfield, and has a population of exactly 10,000 people. Bakersfield has exactly 100.
West doesn’t know yet, but his mother, Mary, will be taking him to go meet Mrs. Shepherd in one week. Good luck West.
…
I’ve been keeping this a secret from you up until now. But I think now would be a good time to tell you. Remember the Pontileafs I told you about in Chapter 3? The ones that look like Velociraptors? The ones that are made of paper? Yeah, well, remember how I said one of their leaders gave me a male and female offspring? Well, I have them here, in my room with me. Two baby Pontileafs, right here, right now. They are very cute. But not cuddly. You can’t cuddle with them. They would crumble into a paper ball. I have to be extra careful with them.
They grow rather slow, I noticed. They’re at the age of three now, and no bigger than my hand. Very strange. In fact, if I’m not mistaken, they seem to have shrunk. Its very odd. It’s as if since my return to Earth, the Pontileafs have shrunk twice their normal size. This is very strange. If only I had a way of speaking with the Pontileafs on planet Tesla.
Well this is very unfortunate for the Pontileafs. It seems on this planet even more so than on Tesla, there seems to be no way of them becoming the dominant species.
They are fun to play with though. We are playing right now. They’re really distracting me from typing. Haha, they’re trying to bite my finger! They must be hungry. They eat glue. It grows ripe on planet Tesla. Here too I believe. At least I’ve never found a problem buying it at Walgreen’s. I never used to buy it though. I mean, who uses glue after middle school? I’m talking about Elmer’s Glue. Nobody! But the Pontileafs eat it up! They love the stuff. And that’s all they eat. Thank God! I’m horrible at taking care of things. But these Pontileafs are very simple creatures. Never complain. Never.
I keep them in a shoebox when I’m away. And I even painted scenery inside the box of what I can remember of Tesla’s landscape.
They’re starting to learn words. The other day Joshua, the male, learned how to say ‘bullshit’. I didn’t teach him that. He heard it somewhere. I don’t really care though. It’s just a fucking word.
Ezra, the female, is probably my favorite. She’s much brighter than Joshua and much more playful. She loves to climb onto my arm and run up my shoulder, and sit perched up there. It’s very funny.
The two look very similar except for their skin color. Joshua, like all male Pontileafs, is plain white. Ezra, like all females, is full of a random assortment of color. The color tends to go with they’re personality as they grow older. Since Ezra is still young, she doesn’t have too much color, but she has mostly yellow covering her upper body, a streak of pink running on her under belly, and a few blue stripes along her back.
One time I thought about writing or drawing something on Joshua. You know, as a joke. But I thought twice and then realized I probably wouldn’t be able to get it off if I did. I guess it would be like getting a tattoo. And I’ll let Joshua decide for himself when he’s older if he wants a tattoo. I’ll be his tattoo artist, if he says yes.
If Ezra ever asks me if she can have a tattoo I will say, “No, you’re my little girl!” And she’ll say, “But that’s not fair!” And I’ll say, “Well life’s not fair!” It really isn’t.
Girls with tattoos. You know, I know a lot of girls with tattoos. And I don’t think I’d really care if Ezra got one. As long as I never knew about it. And it’s going to be rather difficult for her seeing that Pontileafs don’t wear clothes.
Life is especially unfair for aliens. I mean think about it. They can’t be seen by other people. I’m the only human they can play with. I have to hide them from everyone else. But I don’t think they would like meeting other people. They would probably laugh. Pontileafs are much smarter than humans. They laugh at me all the time.
7
I quit smoking. Because I’m staying with my parents for the holidays. I was staying at Matt’s. That didn’t work out.
Okay that’s not the only reason I’m quitting. I can’t smoke once I take the secret formula. Please don’t ask what the secret formula is. Please. You know I won’t tell you. You know I’ll just say it’s a secret.
But yeah I had to leave Matt’s. I had my iMac there and everything. Right in his living room. Right where the stupid fucking fight broke out. Fucking fighting. Man do I hate fighting. That’s one male hormone I’ve never been able to understand. I won’t get into it. It was just stupid. And boy was I pissed. Its cool now. But goddamnit. I hate fighting.
You know what I hate almost just as much? Horrible music. And right now, I don’t miss being home with my family. They have the worst taste in music. All of them. Well maybe not my sister. She isn’t in to all the pop/country bull crap. It’s total bull crap. Fucking country! We don’t live in the country! Why would you want to live in the country? Much less listen to its ignorant lyrics and stupid annoying fucking accent! I know some people with country accents. AND THEY’RE FUCKING ANNOYING!
Look I’m just being an ass, I really like everyone. But seriously, don’t play country near me.
You know, I’m really sorry I keep saying things are happening right now. Like now is important. It’s really not. I mean, its just like before. I mean, Okay I guess something very important to my life might happen soon. Something very important. But it’s still a maybe. I’m not sure of it yet. I’m not sure if it’s going to happen. I hope it happens. I need a change in my life. I’m only worried though, of the change it might bring. Should I get into this now? No, I shouldn’t. Not yet. You aren’t ready. It has to do with the secret formula. But you aren’t ready. Not yet.
At lunch today, West sees his two cousins Charles and Marcus. He decides to go sit by them. They don’t like it when he does this. West knows it too, but he does it anyway. He really doesn’t care what they think. He like’s listening to them sometimes. It’s better than not listening to anything.
“Oh, hey West,” says Marcus. “Yeah, hey West,” says Charles. “Hey.” They continue with their conversation. “Chuck, what you think about Jessica Brownstone?” says Marcus. “You kiddin’ me man? God damn so fine!” “Hell yeah man. What about her friend, I forget her name. You see the girl on her right, brown hair?” “Oh yeah, what the hell’s her name? Shit. Umm-” “You mean Amelia Matthews?” chimes in West. “Oh yeah! That’s ‘er name. She’s pretty sexy too.” “Yeah, I banged her,” says West. Now, it’s times like these that you just can’t help but laugh. Everyone knows that poor West’s a virgin. “Hahaha!” laugh the cousins. West doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what to say. After all, he was just repeating what most guys his age would say when the time arose. And boy was that the perfect time. “West you’re so goddamn stupid!” says Charles. Silence. “Well shit West, who else you bang?” laughs Marcus. “You’re mom.” “Dude that’s your aunt,” says Charles. Silence. “Whatever man. That’s weird.” West still says nothing. Every once and a while, especially in conversation, West will just blank out, and have no idea what to say, and it will seem like he’s on another planet or something. I wish he were. “Hey West, We’re goin’ shoot some paintballs after school. You wanna come?” says Marcus. “Y-yeah okay.” “Okay, well meet us at my house after school.” “I don’t have any paintball stuff.” “That’s okay I got extra.” “Okay.”
…
Marcus and Charles are both average sized boys, not too athletic, but still like sports and all. They aren’t football players, but they are on the soccer team. They do everything together. And today, they’re going to tag-team West, and beat the shit out of him with paintballs. I mean, you didn’t actually think they were inviting West over to enjoy his company?
So West comes over to Marcus’s house after school.
“What the fuck’s up West?”
“Hey.”
So they put on their paintball masks and grab their guns. Marcus gives West his old crappy one naturally. Marcus makes up these bullshit rules about how it’s a free-for-all and that you don’t have to stop shooting until the victim raises his arms. West isn’t going to remember this. Marcus knows it too. The bastard. So they break up and go their separate ways to different areas of his yard. Marcus has an enormous yard.
They all count to 50 like the rules had stated, and then begin they’re hot pursuit. West runs to where some bushes are to hide behind. Marcus and Charles run towards the porch. They wait a minute, see West hiding behind the bush, the only bush in the yard mind you, and then pursue West from opposite angles.
West sees this, and is naturally confused. Marcus and Charles begin firing at him. West has never been hit with a paintball before. And he had no goddamn idea it hurt so bad.
“Ahhhh!!!” he screams. This is ridiculous, he thinks. They continue to fire. They charge, getting closer every second and rapidly popping their triggers. The pain increases with every bullet. West falls on the ground. Too much pain. They draw so near they begin to circle around him.
“Ahhhhhh!!! Please!!!” This is brutal.
Marcus and Charles continue to circle West. Laughing they’re asses off. What crooks.
The pain is unbearable. West can’t take it. He begins to feel like the men in the movies, when they are getting shot at. When there’s no time left, they know they’re a goner. But they know they still got to settle the score. They got to destroy the enemy. Kill their killer. So in a heat of boiling rage, much like the mad men in the movies, West gets up with his gun, now in role-play mode, and roars like crazy, “Dieeeeee!!!”
Of course the gun isn’t automatic, but boy West can fire pretty quick for never using one. The way he holds it, the barrel points up to where his aim is straight at the boys’ necks. He doesn’t mean to do this, he really has little consciousness of what’s going on at this point. He’s just feeling the emotional power that comes with acting your heart out. And of course the goddamn pain. Can’t forget the pain.
So West continuously fires straight at Marcus and Charles’ necks. And if you knew anything about paintball, you’d know apart from the balls and face, this was the worst area to be fired at.
Now the tables have turned, and the cousins, instead of West himself, are on the ground crying like little babies. “Die! Die you sons of bitches! Dieeee!!!” roars West. The cousins raise their arms to communicate to him to stop shooting, but of course West wasn’t paying attention to the stupid rules. He continuously fires until he runs out of paintballs. He is a god.
…
I really want to start this story over. I really do. I know I can’t. Well I could. I could. I could just start it over and you would never read any of this. But I dunno. I mean I guess this is just a practice for me anyway. It’s no masterpiece. I don’t think I want to write a masterpiece anyway. Masterpieces are overrated. No, I think I’ll just keep it how it is, and just let it evolve as my writing evolves. I just bought a book on writing. It’s supposed to be killer. We’ll see. I probably won’t even read it.
8
Hey I’m about to move out of this dump. I got my metal filling removed from my mouth. I’m back at my apartment after spending the holidays with my family, but I won’t be here for long.
I didn’t quit smoking like I said I did. I lied. I mean I tried. I’m just not ready. I need to get settled first. I’m on the ledge right now. I’m frozen in time. I have a lot to get done, but I’m not ready to do it. I’m still not feeling good. I’m actually worse. I think it’s this town. I think it hates me. I think when I return home everything will be better. I keep telling myself this. I shouldn’t lie to myself. And I shouldn’t start my sentences with I.
After two weeks of being on planet Tesla, I had run out of cigarettes. This was back before I had attempted to ever stop smoking. I did stop eventually, and then I started up again while writing this story. Anyway, on Tesla, before I had met the Pontileafs, I met the Fevras, the human-like creatures. I couldn’t speak their language, but they quickly acknowledged me as one of their own because of our resemblance. I sensed they believed me to be one of their own species, but from a far off land they had never been to. I guess you could say this was partially true. And while living with them for a couple of weeks, I learned that the majority of them were smokers, that the tobacco leaf grew fluently on Tesla, and that they farmed crops of it in their villages.
Now this next part you might find very startling and grotesque. But to smoke the tobacco, the Fevras would make their own cigarettes from baby Pontileafs. They would steal the newly-borns from the adult Pontileafs and flatten them out, roll the tobacco in them and smoke ’em up. They quickly taught me how to make my own, of course I never went and stole the babies myself. I knew little of the Pontileafs at this time, and if I had known better I would never have made my cigarettes from their children.
When I did eventually meet the Pontileafs it was very difficult for me to befriend them. I didn’t want them knowing of my using their offspring as smoking devices. But because of my addiction I eventually needed some form of nicotine and so I showed them my pouch of tobacco the Fevras had given me, and told them everything. I apologized my best, and told them that I had denounced the Fevras and would never again smoke using a Pontileaf newly-born. They then explained to me that it would not have been such a big deal if it weren’t for their low population. I told them of how on my planet, we had an over-growing population that is increasingly destroying our planet and that killing even unborn babies was against the law. They found this very funny and we laughed together as I smoked from my newly made cigarettes composed of a fallen off Pontileaf tail.
If only the Fevras and Pontileafs could make a system of exchanging regenerating Pontileaf tails for peace between the two species. But I never found the Fevras to be very bright.
…
It’s Saturday morning and West is in his room masturbating.
Mrs. Mary walks in on him. This isn’t the first time.
“West!” yells his mother. She closes the door. “I told you I didn’t want you doing that anymore!” she shouts through the door.
He pulls up his pants and says, “What do you want?”
“I’m bringing you to the doctor today,” she says. West doesn’t know the doctor’s really a psychiatrist. And West can’t drive.
“Okay.”
So West and his mother drive to Allentown to meet Mrs. Shepherd.
Allentown is a much busier city than Bakersfield. It has it’s own mall and many shops and superstores. There aren’t many fields and farms in Allentown. Bakersfield has a few. Bakersfield doesn’t have much of anything really.
So they get to Mrs. Shepherd’s building and sit for thirty minutes. West didn’t bring anything to do. He never remembers to bring anything to do. So he just sits there and lets his brain shut off. It’s not that hard for him. Sometimes I wish I had that power.
…
Listen. I’ve never been to a psychiatrist before, and I got to tell you I have no idea what they’re like. I think I should see one though. I don’t necessarily like psychology, I just took an introductory class to it, and it really bit my balls. I got so irritated with the teacher. You have no idea. But anyways, I don’t know how it works. Seeing a psychiatrist I mean. Sure I could ask some people, but I’d like to experience it for myself. So what I’m doing, I’m going to schedule an appointment for one. I want to study how the whole process works, for the story. I mean, I kind of need it anyways, even though I can control myself, I’d like to figure out some stuff I might not know. I’m not a maniac. I’m not delusional. I just think hardcore with my right brain, and most people don’t. And this is probably why you’ll hate my writing.
So yeah we’re going to cut away from West for a while. Stop time if you will. In his dimension of course. Remember, he’s sitting waiting on the psychiatrist in Allentown. Freeze frame.
…
You know what? Honestly, now’s a good time to stop reading this story. Up until now you’ve had a chance to turn around. To put this down. But not now. What I’m going to tell you from here on out you won’t be able to take back. So go ahead and stop. Do yourself a favor.
9
I’m just going to skip my personal dialogues this time and get right into what I urgently need to tell you. It has to do with West and the whole story. I swear.
First I should probably tell you about the ripples.
…
Back on that same day when that apple fell on West’s head and changed his future forever, something else happened that might well change it even more.
After West walked back inside his house, he went to his bathroom to do some dirty business. But as he opened the door to the bathroom he saw something in from of him that he had never seen before. It’s hard to picture, even harder to describe. But basically what he saw, and what I have seen many of times, is a round, pitch-black sphere, varying in size, with a hazy spiral of gray fog orbiting it. This particular sphere, was around a foot taller than West, just large enough to fit his whole body into.
…
This is, what many others and I call a ripple in time, or a wormhole. This happens when a bridge between two events in space-time connect due to a ripple effect in the fourth dimension. This creates a form of time travel. The proper name for it is space-time travel.
If you’re not aware with any of this I can briefly explain it. Basically, the fourth dimension is time. You have your first dimension, which is a line, the second dimension which is a flat plane, and the third dimension which is a sphere or any object with a third axis, or x and y plus a z coordinate, like most creatures on this earth. And like I said the fourth dimension is time. We, humans, are third dimensional creatures living in the fourth dimension. We’re like a one-dimensional amoeba living on a two-dimensional surface of water. Like the amoeba we can’t travel outside of the two dimensional surface, or fourth dimension for us. But say that there is an object that travels through the water, or second dimension, and causes a ripple effect in it.
Ripples in space-time happen very frequently. It’s the bridges, the wormholes that are hard to find. Like I said many people aren’t even aware of them, and for some reason cannot even see them. I find myself very lucky to be one that can. I can’t explain to you how the bridges work, no one can, at least no one on Earth. I hope to find someone one day that can figure it out. Then maybe the bridges can be controlled. Then maybe they won’t come and go, and they won’t be as dangerous as they are now.
…
When West walked into his bathroom, and saw the wormhole for the first time, he was very shocked and intrigued, much like I was. He thought at first that he was dreaming, that that apple’s impact had rendered him in a daze, but he soon got over his fear and disbelief, and decided to try and touch the large round sphere. He reached out his hand through the gray fog surrounding it and opened his palm as to touch the surface. The surface felt very cold and much like the surface of water, and feeling the resemblance of water, he stuck his hand inside of it. West felt as if his hand had gone away from the rest of his body, as if he no longer had a hand there. He quickly pulled it back, out of dismay, but he could not help becoming even more curious. The fear in his mind was overwhelmed by the sheer wonder and awe of this phenomenon, so he took a deep breath and pursued to stepping into the hazy black sphere.
…
My first experience with a wormhole was very similar to West’s. So similar in fact, that my first one also appeared in my bathroom. I was around the age of 7 and at that age your curiosity is very large, and unless your mother is around you’ll venture into anything that exhibits a possibility for an adventure.
When I walked into my own first wormhole, it took me to a place I have yet to see again. It was a place I called Derma. It is a very strange and peculiar place, and it was the same place West was sent to in his first wormhole. It was such a wondrous place that I had to send him there as well.
The second wormhole I traveled through was in my closet in my old home. This was a reappearing wormhole. It would appear every night at 9 o’clock for one hour. And if I still lived in that home, I’m almost certain it would still be there. That particular wormhole would send me through time, but not space. It would send me exactly 24 hours back in time to the same time it had appeared the night before. It was a very useful tool to have, seeing as though if I had done something wrong that day, I could always go back and fix it. It didn’t always work, or sometimes if I made a different choice than the one I had originally made that day, the consequences would end up being worse than before, but I must say over all, it helped me get by my childhood rather easily. That was back when my mother thought I was an angel, then we moved, and I lost the ability to pick up my mishaps, and she found out that I was in fact just another selfish obscene brat.
…
There’s a wormhole to planet Tesla in my closet in my apartment I live in now, that’s how I got there. Well there was one. It’s gone now. And once I traveled through it, it disappeared, only to reappear a month later, sending me back to the exact same time I left Earth.
There are wormholes everywhere, they’re just hard to see. Not everyone can see them I’ve come to find out. My roommate had one next to his bed I discovered one time. I tried to show it to him, but he could not see it. I traveled through that one as well, bringing me to the land of Bethlehem in Jerusalem, five years after Jesus’ death. There I asked many people about Jesus, only to find that a very small few had even heard of his name. I stayed there for forty days, and met one of Jesus’ disciples, James. He seemed rather odd, like he had a grudge against his brother John, whom he said was Jesus’ favorite. He explained to me how his life wasn’t fair and I told him mine was much the same. We certainly hit it off and I eventually got him to become Agnostic. When I traveled back to my time I soon found out that there were only 11 Apostles now and that James would never become a saint. Oh well, at least he knew the truth. And I’d rather that than anything else.
10
Hey. It’s been a while. For me at least. I haven’t worked on this story for over 3 months. But you know what? Fuck this dialogue. No more intros, I’m tired of this bullshit. You don’t know me. And you don’t want to know me. Let’s leave it at that.
Okay. Well all you need to know. Is that I’m fucking crazy. And you better be fucking crazy too cause goddamnit if you’ve read this far and you thing for once that this story is gonna have some stupid fucking happy ending you should just save yourself the embarrassment and quit. And I told you at the beginning. I’m making this shit up as I go. And I’m fucking enjoying it so you better enjoy it too. And fuck exclamation marks they’re stupid.
“West?” West’s mother gets up. He looks at her. “Come on West.” West and his mother go see the psychiatrist.
…
Next, there’s a bunch of boring stuff that happens. So I’ll tell you about something else while we wait.
West’s family is kind of religious. They try to go to church every sunday. They try but sometimes, you know, they’re too busy to spend an hour sitting down reflecting/listening to someone talking.
Most of the townspeople of Bakersfield are religious. Thats how it is in small towns. There’s only one church, and every sunday its filled with more than half of the town.
West always tried to understand his family’s religion. They’re some off brand Protestant Christian religion. Doesn’t really matter. What matters is that West really tried. He really, really did. In fact he tried more than anyone else in Bakersfield. For most, it came natural. Or at least that’s what most people made it seem. For West, he just couldn’t understand all of the rituals and stuff. It was really hard for him, but he was determined to be a good person.
He was raised to believe and do certain things. And in a town where everyone believed the same thing, there was really not even a thought of an alternative view. So up until now, West had always figured everyone followed the same religion, and that the laws of that religion, were the laws of life. He thought that if you didn’t follow these rules, you were just wrong.
Up until now.
…
West’s psychiatrist learns of West’s problems, and recommends a book to West. The name of the book is ‘Your Life is Whole’. It’s one of those stupid books that tells you that you’re special, and everyone loves you, and you need to love them back to be happy blah, blah, blah. Luckily, she forgets to mention the name of the author.
After leaving the psychiatrist, West and his mother go to the bookstore in Allentown to purchase the book. Now, this psychiatrist is pretty well known around Allentown, and she recommends this godawful book to most of her patients. So when West and his mother go to look for the book, they don’t see it, because it happens to be sold out. What they do see is a book titled, ‘Your Life in a Hole’, by Irwin Malfunk, which they mistake for the other book. So they purchase this book thinking it is indeed the other book their faithful psychiatrist had recommended.
…
Somewhere in another dimension, there is a boy exactly like West, about to buy this book. Except in this universe the people there read from right to left, and say their sentences backwards.
“Book the is this think I.” says alternative West’s mother. “Okay.” says alternative West.
…
Lucky for us, West knows how to read. Although he isn’t very good, and reads very slow, he can read, and so his mother needn’t help him one bit. When West gets home he rushes to his room to open up his new book and finally, maybe finally, find some answers to this insane world. This is his first mistake. But we all make this mistake, thinking some book is going to give us the answers to life. People have been doing this for years. And some even start a cult. And when it becomes public they change the name to religion.
West opens up the book and reads the first paragraph.
…
‘There was once this duck who swam too close to an alligator. He got eaten. There was once a baby elephant who got torn apart by lions. He got eaten. And there was once a boy who walked too far away from home and fell in a hole. He ate himself. Metaphorically, this is your life.’
“Hmm.” said West, and continues on.
…
Somewhere in another dimension, there’s a boy exactly opposite of West. He is the star football player, a handsome devil who gets all the ladies, and he makes perfect grades. The only problem is he always does exactly what he is told, and thus has never been able to explore and understand anything about life. His is a more tragic story.
…
Somewhere in another dimension, I finish this story.
You ever have friends that put that as their voicemail answering recording? Fucking grow up.
Listen. I’ve been drinking. And I’ve been drinking a lot lately and now tonight I feel like drinking some more and doing some writing so I’m going to write while I drink and try to enjoy it if thats okay with you.
Also. There’s a planet called Yamuk. And I’m going there tonight.
Oh and if I didn’t tell you, I moved out of my apartment, moved back in with my parents, and right now, I’m at my friend’s house. And if you don’t care about any of that, that’s good. So I don’t even need to tell you.
So like I said, we are drinking over here. And smoking. I won’t say what. Wink, wink, wink, wink.
Oh and my friend has a wormhole in his backyard. That’s how I’m gonna get to Yamuk. I don’t know when. Maybe a couple of hours. It’s only 11 right now. I don’t get really energetic until around 3.
And I’ve never gone to Yamuk. I’m nervous. Oh, shouldn’t have smoked. Oh, wait. Oh.
…
Galaxies to the first degree. I don’t care for thee. Bring me to dimensions apart from me.
That’s another haiku I made. It may be my new catch phrase for when I go through wormholes. Of course it isn’t necessary to say. Space-time travel isn’t magic. There are no magic words. But it tis fun.
…
Drinking, smoking, having a good time. We are having a real good time. My friends always get annoyed when I sit here with my laptop. And they get even more annoyed when I start typing my story. This story. Like I am doing now. They hate this. They are really, really mad.
Okay and now I’m done, and ready to go exploring.
I get up and walk into the backyard. I don’t tell my friends where I’m going. I walk through the tall grass that hasn’t been cut for weeks. I reach the small shed against the back fence. I open the shed and sure enough the wormhole is sitting right there. Right in front of me.
“Galaxies to the first degree. I don’t care for thee. Bring me to dimensions apart from me.”
I walk in.
…
The ground is some form of jelly. It’s very hard to move around. I begin to walk but it gets worse. It seems if I stay in one spot too long I start to sink. The jelly ground is gray. In fact everything on this planet is gray. What a depressing thought, you would think. But no, I love black and white photos. And to live in black in white, lucky dogs.
Yamuk is the name I gave this planet. Before even traveling to it. Haha. How stupid is that? Well I’d like to change the name to Kardifus, but that would just confused the shit out of you so I’ll leave it alone.
Wow, I’ve never written while I’m drunk, but I have traveled drunk. Through space and time. At least I think it was through time. I don’t know because I traveled to a planet. And this was on a planet I frequent many times. That’s why I went there when I was drunk, because I’ve been so many times that I get bored. The planet’s name is Buzzcrock. Yeah, I know. Funny right? Yeah, laugh your ass off about it.
I gave it that name when I was drunk. I thought it was funny because I was drunk and then I later realized how fucking stupid I am when I’m drunk and I kept the name because it was so fucking stupid. You ever do that? Like you do something really stupid and then laugh about it later but decide to accept it, because you want to expose how moronic you can be and let everyone see the truth of your retarded existence? Well I do.
Never knew how amazing laptops were. Still don’t. But being able to bring this outside while I smoke a cigarette and drink a beer. Well, it’s fucking amazing. Oh wait I mean I’m on a planet, fuck.
Oh yeah so planet Buzzcrock. It’s an amazing place. The first time. Then it’s like man I’ve been here a million times before, Jesus I’m bored. But on planet Jesus, man. That place is pretty cool. I’ll tell you a little about it. So there’s this race of creatures on it called Varsus. I didn’t make this name up although it fits their personality very well. They all have the same personality. That’s why it gets boring. But anyway. These creatures, the Varsus, they are intimidating as all hell. They like to compete for everything. One time I brought a case of beer with me and they competed with me to see who could drink the most. I said, “Are you fucking kidding me?” Little did I know these Varsus were amazing drinkers. In fact I don’t think alcohol impairs them at all. Bullshit, right? Yeah so they drank like 50 beers each. Their bladder is also 10 times the size of a human’s. In fact their bladder is on their face. It’s funny when you see them for the first time but then you get used to it and it’s not funny anymore. They have an oval shaped head, long horizontally. And their eyes are on the top on their head, but then their mouth is on their belly. And then their bladder is below their eyes on their face. And they have a penis above their eyes. So when they have to wizz they shoot it out the top of their heads. It’s pretty fucking hilarious to see especially when you’re drunk. They piss like every 2 minutes so there’s never a dull moment. But I’m getting ahead of myself and I’m not focusing on the point of this. And the point is that there is no point and I’ve just been drinking too much and wanted to tell you some useless information.
But now I’m going tell you about planet Yamuk because that’s what I wanted to tell you about it in the first place. I’m there right now. And I got out of that jelly mold and I’m now sitting on a rock typing this stupid stuff. Yeah well it looks like a rock. It’s gray and hard like most rocks. But that’s because everything here is gray. Or some shade of black and white, you know the drill. But they probably don’t call it a rock over here. They probably call it some ridiculous name like- Oh here comes someone. Or something. Hold on got to talk to this guy real quick.
I hate to have put you on hold, but this guy seemed to know his shit. His name is Kardavrus, and he told me about where I am. Apparently I’m in Azlamandus, some country on the planet Yamuk. Azlamandus, he says is a large country on Yamuk and the only one disconnected with the rest of the planetary alliance. Does that make sense to anyone? And now we are walking to his small town called Bellafus. What funny names. I wish I had made these names up.
We arrive at Bellafus and he brings me straight to the town leader. His name is Muffaso, and he looks very similar to my 4 year old cousin. If my cousin was in black and white and had frizzy black hair sticking out of his back. They look like porcupines.
I speak to Muffaso. He tells me a little about his planet Yamuk and how all of the kingdoms are connected via the Rebrosus. The Rebrosus is basically like the internet on our planet. All of the Yamukians are connected through the Rebrosus. Only, we use electricity to connect, and they have the jelly like substance which I was walking through earlier, which I now know is called besrubus, which they use to communicate somewhat telepathically.
Yes, they have the power of telecommunication through jelly. It’s very funny to describe it in words. It’s another thing to see it in reality. It’s actually not funny at all. And rather sad. Because every time they use the besrubus jelly, I learned that a creature called Mogobos, a very tiny creature the size of an ant, dies. More than one usually. These Mogobos create the besrubus jelly as a home for their colonies. And the dominant creatures, a la the Yamukians, use this jelly to communicate to each other, thus killing Mogobos in the process.
It’s very sad, when you think about it. But when you think about it even more it’s not. The creatures we kill everyday because of our survival, it’s just funny. That’s what I’m saying. It’s not sad, it’s funny. Laugh.
And I learn that Azlamandus, the country I am in, is the only disconnected country in the planetary communication, Rebrosus. I know, confusing right? Reference the earlier paragraphs if you’re confused. I’m not going over old news.
And Azlamandus is disconnected because of their besrubus jelly. The jelly in this country isn’t ripe. They tell me centuries ago they used to be the leading country in the war on Rebrosus. They had created Rebrosus, and all of their intellectual Yamukians had decided to spread it to other countries to try and make the planet equal in knowledge. They wanted every little Yamukian, no matter how or where he was born, to be able to learn and communicate universally with the rest of his species. But because they had produced the besrubus jelly from the beginning, it began to decline. So they relied on outsourced jelly to continue communication. They were stock out. And then they tried re-growing the jelly from jelly that they had received from their foreign allies. For some reason this jelly didn’t grow the same way they had hoped and was much thicker than the original homeland jelly. The jelly didn’t work the way it was supposed to. They then argued about it with the supplying country, saying they gave them bad jelly, although it was perfectly fine jelly for it’s own landscape. And they became alienated from the newly progressive country.
“Well thank god I can still smoke cigarettes here,” I say. They aren’t amused.
I had to lighten up the tension. I feel as if they are expecting me to do something about their condition. Oh, they are. They think I’m some kind of savior. Because I came from some other planet and don’t look like them. “Yeah right,” I say, and leave. The guards stop me. “You will save us from our troubles, oh transcendent one,” says Muffaso.
“You gotta be shitting me,” I say. I’m in no condition to save a country of it’s troubles. I’m drunk, but besides that fact, I’ve never done anything of the sort.”
“Guys, listen,” I say, “I’ve been drinking, and smoking a lot of cigarettes, and all I feel like really doing is writing.”
They don’t understand. “Drinking what?” says Muffaso. “Drinking our velura?” Which is liquid they drink similar to our water.
“No,” I say. “Alcohol, but you don’t know what that is. It’s bad for you, and it makes your thinking very contrived.”
“What are you doing drinking such a substance?” says Muffaso. “Don’t you want to endure your knowledge as long as you have it to endure?”
This scares me. He’s right. How dare I waste away my knowledge for the sake of one measly self-satisfying night. I feel ashamed, and more than that, I feel regret. I hate this feeling.
