TUDAWR9

TUDAWR

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Characters: Me, her, a cat, the Universe

Setting: a Movie Theater

I was at that point where you can't eat anymore popcorn, where you tell yourself that the last bunch in your hand will be the last, where the over accumulation of salt in your mouth makes your teeth gritty and your tongue oily. But I kept eating. At the same time I was staring at the screen. My mind was neither watching the film nor eating away at the tortured kernels of maize. I was doing both and neither at the same time, I was seriously annoyed. So I ate another handful and kept staring. I wasn't able to transform a third mental activity into and actual physical manifestation and make myself either stop staring at the screen and fully concentrate on finishing the bag of popcorn or stop eating and pay and fully concentrate on the film.

I payed for the ticket, pay attention to the movie.

I payed for the popcorn, pay attention to popcorn.

I'm confused.

How I wished I could be outside looking up at the nightsky letting these thoughts drown among the stars. Wow, that was very well structured thought, good syntax, very poetic, very smart.

I remember reading that smarter people eat more salt than, than, than, than the people that don't eat as much salt as the people that eat salt.

Ouch! Brain freeze.

I'm even more confused than before. But my fourth or fifth wave of thought is telling me I should concentrate on the salty popcorn.

But wait! Theatre is art and poetry in movement; I read once that observing and learning to appreciate others' artistic manifestos makes you smarter than, than, you know, than me and you. Maybe not you, but maybe you. Now all the voices in favor of concentrating no watching the film are yelling louder than the popcorn cheerers.

Now the popcorn team comes back with redoubled strength gracefully and learnedly speaking about dietary values and tasty butter butter butter. Movie-team steps back, for a second hesitating, taken aback. They ground their feet, close their fists, straighten their overcoats and sombreros, and prepare to strike back. Entertainment, joy, imagination, music, action, beauty!

Ouch, ouuuch, ouuchh, ouuch! This is too much, I feel a brain-industrial refrigerator freeze about to take over!

Meeeeowwww.

I turn around and look at what I thought was an empty seat next to me. But instead I see that there is a cat inside an empty bucket of popcorn staring straight at me through a pair of 3-D glasses.

Meeow? I answer back instantly regretting it, I don't speak cat.

Wait, what? Ok, that is definitely too much. Brain iceage. Begin systems shutdo....

"Hey mister!" said a female voice. The lights were on, the cat was gone, and I was alone stare-ing blankly into a disappointingly empty screen and holding a mouthful of soggy bland popcorn half-way to my mouth.

"Hey mister, closing time".

I love going to the movies. And eating popcorn.

The Universe Remains

TUDAWR8

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Characters: Me, me as well, forest creatures, the wind, the universe.

Setting: The forest floor

I woke up in the woods again. I don’t know really how it happened this time.

I don’t know how it happened the other times either. Every once in a while I’ll just wake up lying on the floor in a random place. Most of the times it’s under my hammock, but sometimes not.

Knot, plus knot, plus knot, plus knot, equals either carpet or hammock, or naught at all.

This time I’m on the ground somewhere surrounded by trees and other small plants, all crowned and lavishly dressed with brightly colored and other not so brightly colored leaves. As I stand up I notice that my rainboots are stuffed to the brim with dead leaves. I think about taking them off for a second but then I decide against it. Taking off my Penguin Suit just to get rid of the dead leaves is too much of an effort at this time in the woods. If I think about them just enough, they’ll start to feel comfortable.

Lying on the forest floor I see myself walking towards me, I’m also wearing a penguin suit but mine is a Shawl Lapel Penguin Suit, and my other self’s is a Peak Lapel one. I’m a classy guy, except for the rainboots, I’m also wearing them. As I walk down the steep side of a hill covered in middle-aged trees, expired foliage, and animal detritus, I decide to meet myself halfway and forget all about the leaves in my boots.

“Look”! I exclaim to my selves crouching on a branch some ten feet away high atop a nearby tree. Me and me as well are staring at me and not at where I’m pointing at. But I have rainboots on my hands and arms, so I can understand my and my self’s confusion. They’re full of dead leaves. Luckily I’m wearing a Double Breasted and I exude authority. I am still staring at me, but me as well is looking around his feet at the ground. I get my message and start to look around my feet as well, wow I look authoritative wearing a Double Breasted PinguSuit.

All three me-amigos start walking to where my boot had pointed at and we end up standing around an old stone well and staring at two quarreling arthropods. There is something there much older than me, myself and me as well. I wish to understand it; I know it is beyond mine understanding. As we pay close attention and let the sounds of the forest take over mine minds I’s begin to understand their conversation, the Grasshopper’s and the Queen Ant’s conversation I mean.

“Wait-t, you mean to tell me-e you are not-tot going to give me-e any of your aphids?” said the hungry Grasshopper.

“I can’t, I shan’t, I just don’t want” replied the Queen Ant.

“But it’s getting-ting colder-older every day, and I’ve been a’singing song-songs for your troops all summer long-long! You can Ant, you shall Ant, you will Ant” countered the hungrier Shopper of Gras.

“Your chant was but a rant, food I will not grant. Food I will not for you want, reward for your idleness I will not grant…” voiced the Ant.

Grasshopper guy stood there dumbfounded for a moment looking around for answers not really noticing any of me. My mouth dropped enthralled by the developing drama, I gulped dry air waiting for the conclusion of their thwarted argument, my hands were sweating with excitement. Maybe it was all those leaves in my boots.

Ant Queen she-dude didn’t even see it coming; tarsus and claw straight to the head. One clean sweep and her head was off. Exoskeleton shmeleton. All three of I and Her entire colony drew in a collective breath of surprise.

A few yards away exactly in our direction, a small gust of air hit me in the face as I lay on the floor daydreaming of Aesop.

The Universe Remains despite my best efforts

TUDAWR7

TUDAWR

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Characters: me, metal box, her, the universe

Setting: metal box

This one is much shinier than most of them.

Diiiing.

I poked at it, and it opened its mouth slowly. Enter, be digested.

It was all metal on the inside; the floor was corrugated tin, the railing lambasted aluminum, and the four walls including his mouth were polished stainless steel. This one is a he, I can tell by its smell. All six sides of the death-cube were wallpapered with human bacteria.

Metaloid Bacteria, the next step in accelerated human computer interaction? Or a Finnish deathmetal band.

The air inside was dank. It covered me all over, like a wet towel, like that time I threw a wet towel from my bus and made that biker fall over. I could tell by the way he fell that he was a very talented biker. Breathing inside the metal box became like drinking hot coco in a mid summer day; the air tasted like licking batteries and chewing tin foil, or like a wet towel to the face when your riding a bicycle.

Ten feet wide, 10 feet long, 13 feet tall. 13000 cubes. *Note to self: look-up actual di-men-sion.s.

Did I mention the dye?

Plural of dice, luck hating death-cubes.

I went in and tried to shift smellmories, I tried remembering how nice it smelled that time there was a fire at the TacoBell.Fire at the disco. Fire in the gates of Hell!

Diiing.

I was nervous, anxious, unsure, doubtful, shift + F7. Synonyms were flooding my thoughts again and I tried to put them in order, but all I could think about was how if you make the word "semantics" and the name "Samantha" mate, their child would be a Spraying Mantis. Think about it for a second, if Nym spoke Spanish he would be very confused. Sy, No, Nym; which one is it then!?

The box slowly closes its mouth, there is no turning back now. It's me against the walls, me against an army of virus and bacteria.

I put on Beethoven's 6th of course, take out my laser guns, one on each index-thumb's elle. I take one last look at my adversaries before the battle begins and I know Karajan is on my side.

Piu piuu, piuu; they are everywhere, swarms of them, endless swarms of streptococus, an entire legion of rhinovirus, an entire phalanx of bartonellas and brucellas; there is an armoured division of Myxococcus xanthus. Oh Ludwig give me strength!

I drop to the floor and roll, piu to the right, piuu to the left. They're all over my overcoat, I shouldn't have rolled over the Rickettsia trachomae. I'm cornered, battered and bruised; I'm quickly running out of ammo. There is little hope left now, but I will fight to the bitter end. I knew it would end this way, but I had to fight, I HAD TO, we all "plural dice" some day.

Diing

Like finding an extra roll of toilet paper when the first one quits on you, a miracle happened. The beast's mouth slowly opened;the hair on my neck stood on end. How sweet it was to be alive, Van B reminded me of it, oh how sweet it is to have a second chance. I jumped out with all that was left of my energy, my left index hurt after all the shooting, I had lost my other gun in the heat of battle. "Piu-piu" echoed the last shots on the metal walls as I lay on the ground. I lay still staring outside-in into that shinny evil, evil box. And for a moment time stood still like it so often does when you least expect it. Wait, something isn't right.Panic!

My overcoat!

Nooooooo! They will not defeat me, not after all that's happened. I tore it off my back and with one quick continuous movement threw it into the death-box's mouth. Before it had closed completely, I saw my overcoat wrapping itself around that weird fat lady that had started crying half way through the Bacillus thuringiensis assault. I didn't particularly understand why she had to cry, I don't like it when they cry. I think it was her shaking that made me drop my right piu-piu gun. Too bad I couldn't saver her. Maybe she will one day meet the towel biker and exchange stories of what my linens smell like.

LVB never fails.

The Universe remains.

TUDAWR 6

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Setting: walking down an alley

Characters: me, him, raven, the universe

It's raining. Eye am under the sky. They rain is, or at least should be on, above, and below me. But it is falling around me. It isn't sure it wants to get me wet. I think it prefers the dirty asphalt than my dirty. As I was walking through the alley I saw a small dark figure approaching from the opposite end.

Grraaaw, crowed the black raven next to me grom atop a ledge nearby. He puffed and ruffled his soaked feathers. He moved his head from side to side in that silly way birds do when they don't understand me.

The small figure of that man was slowly getting closer to us.

The raveNous aveNger will veNgefully eNtice Nothingness.

Raaa-haaa-heeiiivenn

Say it, try it.

Raaaahaaaheeiivenn.

"I don't understand it either", I told the wet raven. I am dry and you are all wet. Rain never has liked me, never will.

GRAWR!

Go, run, away, raven! I shushed at raven. I couldn't reach him. He just rested on top of his reign reminiscing of the time he out rhymed a wren in Reims.

French Raven.

Grawr!

Animalia chordata aves passeriformes corvidae corvus.

"Well, nice to meet you too Monsieur Raven"...I would've introduced moiself but I had run out of time time. I had seen the man's face and I knew exactly what was about to happen. What had to happen.

The man was not even 5 feet tall. He was old and defeated. His head was down, his eyes tired, his stride a mere 30 steps per minute. His once full dark hair had been reduced to thin grayish straws, like an old toothbrush. He smelled of hard work and broken dreams, of misdirected efforts and empty good intentions. Always polite, always on time, all ways humble, addicted to the status quo. Quoth. He was soaking wet. His life had never known an umbrella. Maybe, I couldn't really tell in the dark and the heavy rain.

You know this man, you have seen him before, it could be you.

I loathe him. I'd prefer to fight a sabertooth on a roof.

Miau.

I reached into my back pocket and took my spare chocolate donut out. I intentionally smeared some of the chocolate cream on the small of my back as I pulled it out. The large of my back is gonna be so jealous.

The little ruined man had almost reached the part of the alley where a dry shirtless man in cowboy boots was jumping up and down. This man was yelling unintelligible tells at a bird sitting on The Edge of a ledge. This man is me! Is it you? Is it you on the edge? Or is it U2?

I was dry and ready. My conversation with the raven had gone on long enough to distract the little man from what was about to happen to his world. I read the signs right, raven time! This. is. war.

I turned around abrubtly and lunged at him in anger and absolute craze. He looked at me and stood petrified. Mouth open, eyes wild fixed on his. Arms outstretched, chocolate donut in hand, armed and ready.

I sprang feet-first onto his chest, knocking him down to the floor. He had no time to struggle, I shoved the donut in his mouth. Picture it clearly, try it, do it. The cold wet asphalt gnawing at his back. Do you feel it? The mushy chocolate dough forced into his gastrointestinal tract. You with me?

This was his life's umbrella.

"Feel it! The universe has conspired against you!", I yelled and spat as close to his face as I could. His hands were flailing back and forth scratching like kitty claws at my face and forearms. Mine were inside his mouth forcing-in the small ring-shaped cake made of rich dough, deep fried in fat. His black beady eyes never stopped staring at me.

We were in the center of a city where the majority of the populace had moved to the outer rims. Downtown was almost deserted, a large urban hole in the middle of a dark and forgotten town. No one but us would see this glorious moment in time. The french raven saw it.

Also called Olicook.

The enzymes in your esophagus are already digesting, don't struggle, embrace it. Love it!

He was exhausted and stupid. He looked beautiful with his eyes all red with fear and tears; his face full of chocolate, blood, and rain.

I loved him.

Desperation was gone from him, exhaustion had taken over. He stopped struggling.

It stopped raining and the raven flew off, with chocolate on its beak.

After three hours of the best conversation he had in years, he walked away at a 50 steps per minute pace.

The universe remains.