I need to find someone who can heal my mind.

As if there weren't enough of these out there, here is my very own "coming of age" story:

I've mentioned it before, but now it is time to lay it all out. I am a god. I have no special powers or abilities and I haven't really created anything worthwhile, but the fact remains that I am deity. This was not by choice. Indeed, I have tried to stop it, but when a strange alien race begins worshipping you there just isn't much you can do about it.

It all began a dozen-plus years ago. This was a strange time in my life as I exited the prepubescent stage and found myself pubescing and such. Yes, I struggled as we all do with these changes, but most disturbing of all were the regular alien abductions. I couldn't tell anyone about them, either. "Mom, something strange has been happening to me. You see, I --" and my mom would cut me off quickly with something like, "It's normal," "Everyone experiences it," or some other response that effectively dismissed my concerns as nothing more than those of a boy turning into a "young man." Needless to say, I believed her and figured that aliens must be abducting all of my friends and classmates as well, so I just struggled through it like everything else.

I'm not sure what the aliens saw in me, but after a year or so of these abductions they began acting differently. They were polite and courteous, asking me how I felt and what I desired. The probing diminished significantly... okay, actually there never was any probing, but I thought you might be wondering since it's such a clichéd abduction thing. Anyway, they did continue to take me to their ships and such without asking permission, but the thought never occured to me that they should ask since, as I said, I thought this was all a normal part of growing up. The point is that their treatment of me noticeably changed, and I became aware of the fact that they were, well, revering me. Needless to say I was confused by this strange change in behavior.

As the years rolled by, things got even more strange. The aliens developed the habit of presenting me with gifts. With time, the aliens would only present ONE alien (who wore elaborate and flowing robes) with the gifts, and then only he would present them to me. Eventually, I only ever saw a few of the aliens (who had apparently become the "priests" of this new religion). They would present me with holographic recordings of prayers and such, worship me for a while, and then send me back home.

In case you haven't quite grasped this yet, let me reiterate that I thought this was all normal. I figured everyone was a god to their own little colony of space aliens. I only began to suspect otherwise when we had a lesson in church about how we can become gods (a grossly misunderstood LDS doctrine, by the way). When I raised my hand and said, "I've already become a god," and, "Aren't you all gods, too...?" the class went silent and I had to talk with the Bishop later that day. When I started telling him about the aliens, he figured I was just up to one of my normal tricks, smiled, shook his head and then my hand, and sent me on my way. He also said with a chuckle that maybe I should stop dating his daughter since he wasn't sure he was ready for her to become a goddess for some crazy aliens (of course, I always thought of her as a goddess... but I digress.). I knew he was joking about his daughter, but I was reeling from this revelation and in my crazed mindframe I broke it off anyway. It was probably better for her in the end, what with my random abductions taking me away at inopportune times and whatnot.

Realizing that perhaps things weren't as normal as I had thought, I began saying things to try and feel out whether any of my friends were also alien gods. For instance, I might say, "Boy, it sure was cold in outer space today," or, "Those aliens just couldn't stop with their adulations last week," and one time, "Those new robes make our extraterrestrial friends look pretty ridiculous! Am I right?" Needless to say, these subtle attempts to discover my friends' potential alien dealings were always met with strange looks and whispered comments. It was becoming clear that my god-status, and even my abductions, were completely and totally abnormal.

I was about 18 by this time. High school was winding down and life was staring me in the face. I had serious decisions to make about college, mission, career, and so forth. I was excited to be done with the lameness of the high school social scene and to move on to bigger and better things. Dating became complicated as I prepared for a mission and as girls started thinking that dating after high school meant marriage was around the corner. As I dealt with these incomprehensible attitude changes, something much more serious and terrible was happening to my alien worshippers.

I found out about it one night as I was reviewing some of their prayers. There were always so many of them and they tended to be so boring and inane that I usually didn't pay much attention, but on this night something grabbed my attention. Many of the aliens were praying for "deliverance from our enemies." This seemed strange to me since they had never told me of any enemies before. So on my next abduction I asked the Uber Max Priest of Holy Thosdom about these enemies. What he told me both fascinated and saddened me.

Turns out that a year or so before, some aliens came from another alien colony (I'll call this new colony the Basilites, and the aliens who worship me Thosites from now on to keep things clear) proselytizing for their faith, which advocated the worship of Holy Basil. It may be worth noting that Holy Basil isn't an herb on their planet, but a remarkable material that I found to be a very satisfying replacement for Silly Putty. Regardless, they worshipped Holy Basil as the originator of all life and matter (which honestly I wouldn't doubt, after having played with some for quite some time) and were sharing their message with all who would listen. Unfortunately, they found Thos-worship to be a most grievous sin (Basilite scriptures specifically forbid it, which I found quite shocking), and it was their belief that all Thosites must either be brought to their senses or eradicated.

As you can imagine, the loyal Thosites were firm and steadfast in their belief in me, which is good because I definitely exist and there's nothing fun about others denying your existence. And so a great war was beginning between the Thosites and the Basilites. When I discovered this, I thought it would be wise to give new revelation detailing my pleasure and desire for the spilling of Basilite blood. I didn't have anything against the Basilites per se, but I couldn't stand by and watch them slaughter these aliens who had come to be as children to me. And so I lifted my commandment of pacifistic resistance (I had given many commandments and such over the years because it seemed like the right thing for a god to do), and the Thosites began to fight back.

I shan't detail the mighty battles or list the names of those who perished -- there are other, more respectable places for such things. Instead, be content to know that the Thosites were amazingly proficient in battle (possibly due to years of repressed rage -- one of my previous commandments was to repress rage) and the Basilites didn't stand a chance. We tried to spare the lives of some, but those we spared waited a few months and then captured me and tried to kill me. It was quite the adventure, but again the details aren't necessary here. In the end we had to kill them all. On the upside, we did get all of their stores of Holy Basil, which as I said before is some amazing stuff!

So the Thosites won, the Basilites were eradicated, and I finally realized that I'm a pretty awesome god. And now, several years later, my aliens are the greatest and most revered beings in all the galaxy. As for me, I think I'm ready to live my life.

The Great Country Time Lemonade Flavor Drink Adventure

It was a cold September morning. The rain was pounding, and as I ran through it it gradually changed into hail. Though I lacked umbrella, jacket, or hat, I was only vaguely aware of the little ice balls smashing my head and the slow loss of feeling as the cold numbed my fingers and toes. I was thinking on other things, and when my mind is focused nothing can distract me. "What is the other natural flavor?" was the question that haunted my thoughts. Indeed, my desire -- no, my need to answer this question was what prompted this sudden mad dash out into the unknown.

I was sitting in my home watching a fine episode of Rocko's Modern Life (which I discovered on a video tape while going through some old boxes of stuff), and thoroughly enjoying Heifer learning French ("J'ai besoin de papier de toilette") when suddenly there was a deafening and oddly terrifying knock on the door. It was odd, because I don't really know how a knock can be terrifying, but this one was. So I grabbed my butterfly knife and opened the door, but there wasn't anyone there. Instead, there was a can of Country Time Lemonade Flavor Drink at my feet. I almost didn't see it, and even when I did I nearly kicked it out into the street. I would have too, but my conscience didn't think that would be too environmentally sound, so I brought the can into my house. "No way will I drink that. Artificial lemonade makes my stomach hurt, and who knows where it came from anyway? I'll just throw it away." But I never did. I picked the can up and looked at it, and that's when I saw the words that would burn themselves into my mind: Natural Lemon Flavor with Other Natural Flavor.

"Other natural flavor." That's odd. If there's just one other natural flavor, why not say what it is? Lemon Flavor with Lime Flavor, Lemon Flavor with Guava Flavor, or even Lemon Flavor with Lettuce Flavor. Any of these would have been less interesting or curious to me. If they won't say what this singular "other" flavor is, there must be a reason!

These are the kinds of thoughts I had. At first it was just a minor curiosity. I laughed at the absurdity of it all, and went back to watching that old tape and then went to bed. But the can was still there when I woke in the morning. I glanced at it quizzically, but had to hurry off to work since I only woke up with 10 minutes to get there. I found it exceedingly difficult to focus on my work that day. Everything reminded me of those words. "What other tasks are you working on?" someone would ask, but all I'd hear is "What other natural flavor are you working on?" When we were sitting around imbibing delicious beers, a colleague would say, "Mmmmm! Smoooooth flavor!" and I would shout out, "Is it natural? Would you put it in lemonade?!" My co-workers were quickly becoming aware that I was going crazy. No one thought much about it though, since computer programmers are actually more effective when they're insane.

I went home that night and the can greeted me. Not literally, mind you, it's just that it was the first thing I saw when I came in. It's a figure of speech. Anyway, it was sitting there and that really pissed me off. "Why are you sitting there?" I shouted. So I took it and put it in a cupboard so I couldn't see it. Then I popped in a DVD of Futurama to try and take my mind off of it. Unfortunately I wasn't thinking clearly, and I started to watch the episode where they go to the Slurm factory. If you've seen it, you know why it was a bad idea. Now I simply HAD to know what that other natural flavor was! I went to the kitchen to open the cupboard, but then I stopped. "No! You can't let the lemonade control you!" So I left. Then I came back. Then I left again. I paced back and forth for several hours until I got a charley horse and collapsed in pain. "Argh! Curse you, potassium!" were my last thoughts as I blacked out.

The blackness turned into a swirling mist of natural flavors. As I looked on them, I saw many familiar ones. Peach, mango, tomato, banana, strawberry, orange, and of course lemon. I smiled as each one drifted by, priding myself on my ability to name each one. I made my way through hundreds and thousands of natural flavors, becoming happier and happier as each was identified: cucumber, blueberry, maple, vanilla, cherry, apple... But then something horrible happened! A natural flavor drifted by, and I couldn't tell what it was! A voice asked, "What natural flavor is this?" and the only response I could find was: "other". As I whispered the response, I woke up in a cold sweat. I was still lying on my kitchen floor, my head resting in a surprisingly large puddle of drool. I jumped up and ripped open the cupboard, removing the Country Time Lemonade Flavor Drink. "I WILL FIND OUT WHAT FLAVOR YOU ARE!" I screamed at the can, and jamming it in my pocket I rushed out the door.

So now we have come full circle. I was running through hail on a cold September morning, consumed by the question "What is the other natural flavor?" I did not know where I was going. I hadn't eaten anything since drinking those beers at work. I was sprinting blindly through body-numbing coldness, desperately hoping that in doing so I would somehow find the answer I sought. It was then that he grabbed me. A strange cloaked figure had appeared out of nowhere, taken a hold of my neck, and slammed me down on the ground. "I knew you couldn't resist," he hissed, "but some things are best left unknown." This felt oddly like something out of 1984. Not the whole Big Brother thing, but that bit about being set up because "they" knew that Winston needed to have his way of thinking "altered". Enough with the Orwell references. The point is that this was obviously planned. Here was the man who could produce terrifying knocks on wooden doors, and this time I didn't have my butterfly knife. Things were looking grim.

"Look, I don't know what's going on! I just want to know what the other natural flavor is in Country Time Lemonade Flavor Drink!" I said. He let out a freakishly creepy laugh. "That is not for you to know! If you were to discover the source of the other flavor, you would tell everyone, and then Country Time would lose their 33% market share of United States lemonade consumption." Despite my fear, I laughed. "You're crazy! I'm just a lowly programmer who loves beer. I'm not proactive and I certainly wouldn't have the motivation to do what you claim I would. Besides, no one would believe me." He glared at me, and something about his stare cut my breath short. "You have no idea who you are," he said mysteriously. The mystery was soon gone, however, as he continued, "You are the so-called chosen one who is destined to reveal the other natural flavor to the world."

Me? A chosen one? Someone made a prophesy about this incredibly mundane subject? Why couldn't I have been chosen for something at least mildly cool? Then I had a question. "Wait a minute. The Dr. Pepper/Seven Up, Inc. (DPSU) enterprise sent some madman after me just so they could maintain lemonade market share?" "Naive fool!" he shouted, "DPSU is nothing but a division of London-based Cadbury Schweppes plc. We are a major international beverage and confectionery group selling brands around the world. Any loss of market share is incredibly important to us."

I was in shock. Surely the company that makes Cadbury Creme Eggs -- my most beloved of Easter candy -- wouldn't want to harm me. Reality was crumbling around me. If the company that brought me such joy as a child could plan such a heartless plot against me for the sole purpose of making money, well, nothing mattered anymore. Nothing, except revenge.

As the man stared at me, I made my decision. Like lightning I reached into my pocket and ripped out the can of Country Time Lemonade Flavor Drink. I saw the light behind the man's eyes change as he realized what I was doing, but I was too fast (like lightning, remember). Before he could react, I smashed the can into his left temple. I hit him with such force that the can exploded, and other natural flavor was everywhere! As he crashed to the ground, I kicked him a few times in spite and then took off. I ran and ran, but this time I had a destination: Plano, Texas -- the location of Dr. Pepper/Seven Up, Inc.

Needless to say, I didn't run from Salt Lake City to Plano, but through various means of transportation I finally arrived. Through all kinds of exciting and interesting events I managed to infiltrate the bottling plant and locate the actual recipe for Country Time Lemonade Flavor Drink. I also snuck a couple of Cadbury Creme Eggs from someone's desk (London sends them here year-round, lucky jerks...). I read over the recipe as I sucked the creme out of an egg. It was all here. I finally knew what the other natural flavor was, and it terrified me. Fortunately, about this time I was apprehended and taken to a room where unspeakable things are done to people like me. Good thing, too, because some things are best left unknown. I know I don't have much longer to live, but as I look up at the giant poster of Country Time Lemonade Flavor Drink with Natural Lemon Flavor and Other Natural Flavor staring down at me, my eyes fill with happy tears as I smile. I love Country Time Lemonade Flavor Drink. Perhaps this is 1984 after all...