A story from my childhood.

There was once a little lad who lived amongst the purple pansies of The Royal Slaughter Fields. He was quite happy within his purple pansy paradise -- being surrounded by these perpetual symbols of thought reminded him of the importance of self-observation and quiet reflection. Although, on his more cynical days they simply reminded him of man's bastardization of nature, and he would silently curse the practice of forced cross-breeding.

But today was not a cynical day. Today was the day of the harvest, and this little lad was full of excitement. He had waited his whole life for this moment. Today this lad would become a man... but not in the way you would think. There would be no test or trial of manhood to overcome. There would be no marriage. No, this lad would become a man in a very real sense, for he would be eaten by a man.

The Royal Slaughter Fields were so called because this is where children grew plump and were slaughtered to feed the mighty royal army. To be eaten by these monarchistic soldiers was the best end a child could hope for... but it was not always so.

Long ago, this land was a Holy Technocracy ruled by intelligent and powerful technicians guided by the divine light of God. They ruled justly and fairly, repairing computer problems and fixing broken traffic lights with great speed and skill. However, there was an evil force brewing in the underworld. Discontent with the fluorescent lights used to illuminate their dark caverns, these cave dwellers decided to overthrow the Holy Technocracy.

Within the Realm of Souls that lied within the deepest caverns of the underworld, the Nine Blue Harridans of Desolation gathered together and summoned a mighty beast out of the Ossuary of Suffering. This beast brought great pain and suffering to the leaders of the land, and all appeals to their God seemed to go unheeded. And so the Holy Technocracy fell, and the greatest government ever known to man was destroyed. In its place was established the Tyrannical Domain of Anguish.

Life in the Domain was not good. Without the technicians, broken microwaves remained broken, air conditioners ceased conditioning, and text messages wouldn't get sent. And yet, in some dastardly twist of fate, people lived infinitely longer than before. Surely life without texting is no life at all, and so loving mothers would send their children off to the Royal Slaughter Fields to live a peaceful life amid the purple pansies -- a life which would be cut off quickly before they grew out of their childish innocence and awoke to the horrors of television without TiVo (and in the not-too-distant future, no television at all!).

And so this small lad silently thanks his mother for this gift as he stands up, flings his arms into the air, and is pulled away by a ravenous armored warrior eager to feast. The rush of the wind disturbs the pansies for but an instant, after which they return to their peaceful, purply existence, awaiting the next child who will call them home... for a time...

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.

My two favorite things are commitment and changing myself.

If, as has been suggested, a blog is nothing but a sewer for mind defecation, then it should be obvious that I have been suffering from an extreme case of mental constipation. It has been quite painful, I assure you, and as such I have taken steps to fix it. While finding laxatives for your bowels is both easy and fun (that's a reference to youthful days of finding ingenious ways to loosen the bowels of my friend's siblings...), procuring mind laxatives has proven much more difficult for me. I have been told that alcohol and some illegal drugs are great at opening your mind and letting the thoughts spill out unfettered by silly internal dialogue, but my personal morals keep me from partaking in such wonders. I am thus forced to simply push through this ailment unaided.

It is unusual for me to resort to scatological discussions, but even someone as prim and proper as myself has to deal with these issues. The body is lame and weak (a pansy, if you will), and unable to absorb and make use of a startling amount of the food we ingest. Likewise, our brains are constantly absorbing more information than they know how to deal with, and they just have to slough off some of that nasty, stinky waste from time to time. Normally I like to try and pretty it up before I plop it in the porcelain blog, but today my creativity is at an all-time low. I believe I've had a creativoscopy.

Combine all this with the fact that the Internet lines for our office were physically cut yesterday and we may not have Internet access until 5:30 tomorrow evening, and you will understand why I have no choice but to sit here and write whatever comes to mind. I apologize that my mind frame is not in a more pleasing state. I could attempt to talk about butterflies and roses, but such things disgust me... yet I'm up for the challenge.


In an emerald green valley lived a happy little family of butterflies. These were no ordinary butterflies, however. They were rich beyond imagining, for they lived in a giant bed of roses. These roses were also extraordinary, for they grew in colors incomprehensible to the frail human mind. Their beauty was above that of the most beautiful thing you can imagine, and their scent was different for each creature, pandering to what each subject considered to be the most desirable smell of all. Needless to say, the rose butterflies were the envy of all insects everywhere, but there was no ill will within the valley.

The rose butterflies were kind and gracious -- magnanimous even. While it was forbidden by the butterflies' god to allow others into their rose bed, the butterflies did not consider themselves better than their peers, and would give what they could to the betterment of the insect kingdom. Bugs and arachnids, on the other hand, were of course shunned and abused as they should be. It was not uncommon for the butterflies to organize events recalling the Coliseum of Rome, with spiders battling centipedes and snails. It was this combined with the butterflies' completely inoffensive nature that endeared them so much to the Yellow jackets, katydids, ladybugs, earwigs and other insects of the realm. But something was about to go horribly wrong.

One gorgeous day when the happy sun was spreading joy across the rose butterflies' emerald green valley of beauty and splendor, a most joyous event occurred. A caterpillar had recently cocooned itself on the stem of a rose that was the most stunning of any rose that had ever grown in the valley, and on this day the chrysalis opened, revealing a butterfly which was truly a sight to behold! Not only was it most pleasing to every sense, it also drove all thoughts of pooh-related humor and such from the mind. Truly, it was a miracle! But all was not well.

Such beauty as this was never supposed to present itself to our world. Indeed, this butterfly was the proverbial butterfly whose wings would create hurricanes midway around the world. Only in reality, it was much worse. It happened slowly at first, since the valley was accustomed to seeing things more wondrous and amazing than anywhere else in the world, but with time it became apparent that the mere presence of the butterfly was causing drastic changes wherever it went. Anything exposed to the butterfly's wonderment would become self-conscious, noticing every little flaw it possessed when compared to the butterfly. This could only lead to eating disorders, expensive surgeries, and depression. Since medical science had yet to progress far enough to treat insects and roses for eating disorders, slugs had no faces to lift, and bumble bee liposuction hadn't been perfected yet, every object in the valley (both animate and inanimate) gradually descended the downward spiral into the very pit of self-loathing.

The butterfly was not unaware of the suffering it was causing, and so unable to bear seeing the sad state of its friends and family, it left the emerald valley. This proved disastrous for the rest of the world. Being vastly more repulsive and disturbing than those beings which inhabited the valley, those in the rest of the world were instantly driven to insanity. Those who could afford it went to plastic surgeons, but this only resulted in increased depression since even with fake beauty they failed to compare to the butterfly's innate grace. Indeed, even the prettiest and most self-confident of my readers would have been driven to the brink of suicide.

That's why I grabbed my fly swatter and killed the thing. The End.


Ah, well, that was some much-needed relief. I'll try to do this in private next time...

And if you're wondering, the Internet is still down. Work sucks right now.

For Brunhilda, with love.

Once, long ago, in the darkest recesses of the deepest pits of the foulest corners of Hell, an evil little creature was sick. This was certainly not uncommon, for it was Hell and pretty much every bad thing happens there on a fairly constant basis (not every bad thing happens there since annoying phone conversations are considered too awful even for Hell). Anyway, what was unusual was that this creature was so sick of wiping his nasty snot all over his arm that he decided to do something about it. And thus it was that he took advantage of a rare trip to Heaven (to do a status report or some such nonsense) to procure for himself a tissue. This was no measly Kleenex, friends. No, this was a tissue from Heaven -- a Heavenly tissue. Such a thing could not exist in our world, for its mere presence would cause us all to immediately cease to exist, what with its great glory and all that.

So the creature returned to his dark recess that was his home, and with great anticipation he revealed the tissue to his snotty nose. The feeling was indescribable! There was no pleasure, for this was Hell, but perhaps one could describe it as a momentary absence of excruciating pain. Best of all, the sickness was immediately cured, and all the disgusting mucus disappeared! A true miracle! Sadly (or happily, depending on how you think), the little evil creature died. The tissue was simply too effective it seems, for it absorbed all of the mucus in his body as well as "curing" him of mucus membranes. In other words, his mucus membranes all disappeared and he died a most horrendous, mucus-free death.

The worst thing of all though, was the change wrought over the tissue. This Heavenly tissue was never intended for the minions of Hell. Indeed, it was only ever meant to daintily touch divine little noses, and that only when the perfect nose was tickled by an adorable kitten (or a widdle puppy, if that better suits your idea of Heaven), for clearly no Heavenly nose would expel a nasty snotty mass. But I digress. Suffice it to say that this tissue was meant for Heaven (no matter its apparent uselessness) and not for Hell. Thus it killed the creature, but in doing so it absorbed massive amounts of evil nasty which changed and corrupted it, giving it consciousness and logical reasoning. It even developed motor skills! And thus the Heavenly tissue became the Incorrigible Tissue from Hell (though its origins might be argued as truly being from Heaven...)!!!

Well you can be sure that ITH (as I shall call it since I'm lazy) was mighty unpleased to be in Hell once its cognitive abilities started kicking in. It was also quite upset to find itself dripping with nasty (I used it as a noun again to make a point). The fact that it was evil nasty just made it that much worse (yep, once again to make a point). This was when ITH discovered an amazing ability: no sooner had it thought about how much it wanted the mucus gone than the snotty drippings were absorbed into ITH's body, never to be seen again! This was astounding! ITH then thought about how annoying the fire was that was burning all around, and POOF! it was absorbed as well! Actually, it was more of a WHOOOSSHHHH!!! than a poof, but I can't take it back now. ITH was not only absorbent, he was SUPER absorbent -- nay, MEGA absorbent! Not only was this wicked mad cool, but it was also rad. ITH was quite happy. So he left Hell and went to Earth (Hell was quite pleased to see ITH leave, and consequently re-stoked its fires).

The next record we have of ITH is when it suddenly showed up on the shores of the Great Salt Lake. Apparently it had been traveling around the globe absorbing minor lakes and streams, testing its abilities. After soaking up most of Minnesota's 10,000 lakes, it decided to try something more deserving of a mega absorbent tissue from Hell. So it came to the Great Salt Lake. It just so happened a friend of mine was enjoying a leisurely stroll out on the water (haha, funny salt joke) when suddenly all the water whooshed away (not poofed, mind you)! As he picked himself up off the now-dry lake bed, he chanced to see ITH as it glooshed off towards Salt Lake City. That's when I received the call.

"Thos! There's this tissue coming your way! I think it's from Hell, and it's probably safe to say it's rather incorrigible!" This was the call I had been waiting for. See, I had been sent to Earth for a special purpose. I never knew what that purpose was until I received this call. We've all been sent here to do something only we can do, just most of us don't know what it is until just before we do it. This was when I realized my purpose.

I hopped in good ol' Nader the Mantis (that's my car, people) and cruised on down the street at a very satisfying 115 miles per gallon. Then I had to stop at a stupid light, and that ate into my mileage, but I got some of it back as I hit a fine cruising speed again, popping from 2nd gear straight into 5th. Oooohhh yeaahhh... smooooth...

So anyway, it wasn't too difficult to find the Incorrigible Tissue from Hell. It was rampaging through the city, clearing up innocent civilians' congestion and relieving sinus pressure. I couldn't stand idly by and allow this to continue! I rushed up to the tissue and begged it to cease the madness, but it ignored me and continued to absorb mucus. It was clearly incorrigible, as my friend had suspected. Well, it was time to act. I ran up to the tissue (because while I was pondering things it had continued its frenzied absorbing) and grabbed it. It seemed as though it was trying to speak, but the thing hadn't any way of communicating so maybe I imagined it. Anyway, I brought ITH to my nose, and blew as hard as I could.

Unbeknownst to me, I had been blessed with mucus membranes capable of producing unlimited quantities of mucus at any given time, I just had to believe. Well, the biggest load of snot in all its lovely varieties of colors and consistencies erupted from my nose. ITH made a valiant attempt at absorbing it all, and for a while I was afraid even my snot-producing abilities wouldn't be enough. But just when it seemed that all was lost, the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen came up next to me, took ahold of another section of ITH, and blew the most beautiful slightly-viscous goo out of her nose! Our combined onslaught proved to be too much for ITH, and all of its mind functions ceased. Soon it became a limp, lifeless tissue. As I gazed into the wondrous eyes of the woman who had aided me, sniffing the leaking snot back into my nose, I had the greatest sense of accomplishment and fulfillment I have ever known! I barely noticed as the tissue was gently pulled into the heavens by some unseen force.

The tissue no longer concerned me. I had found the woman of my dreams, but that's another story.

Oh, and did I mention ITH also absorbed people's drinks and things? Yeah, it wasn't just snot and helping people. That thing was downright evil... from Hell, I tell ya!

One of 3 assignments I actually did in 10th grade...

I thought this time I'd just post an old "poem" I wrote for my 10th grade English class. The assignment was to take an everyday activity and write a poem describing the action in "slow motion", where slow motion just meant dragging out a boring, stupid, everyday activity into an equally boring page-long poem. Naturally, I wrote it just before it was due, like I did with everything that I actually turned in.

It's a poem in the loosest terms, and it didn't exactly respond to the prompt we were given, but my teacher loved it anyway. She said it was wicked. I also submitted it and had it published in our annual high school poetry and art magazine, at my teacher's suggestion... which resulted in me having to do a "reading" of the poem when the magazine was released. Ha. Me. Reading poetry. In public. That will probably never happen again.

So, here for your enjoyment is my poorly written poem...

Serendipitous Septicemia

Cheese
Glistening in a divine, whitish way,
Held lovingly in her soft, delicate hands,
her mind pondering and thinking,
twisting ideas around and trying to decide.
She stands still, like a grazing cow.

A flash,
and a purpose is planted.
Turning, she reaches and pulls open a drawer.
Reaching, grasping, clawing for the necessary tool.
Finally, FINALLY!
She closes her hand and brings out
the instrument of doom.
The cheese grimaces.

Menacingly, she displays the grater
to the cheese for an instant,
and then brings the cheese to it.
She draws the white block along the side of the jagged metal,
Ripping and tearing the cheese apart.
The cheese, emitting a cultured, fromageish smell,
defends itself as best as it can.
But it is no use,
the Woman only cackles and continues to grate,
Her wrist twisting and flexing to adjust to the pressure.

Horizontally, vertically, diagonally,
She pulls and pushes the cheese,
Sometimes squiggling it. Gradually,
the long strands of cheese become shorter and sadder.
The cheese, unconscious by now,
is nearly gone...

The Woman, noticing a pain in her fingers, stops grating.
The cheese wedge is no more.
On the counter lies a pile of cheese-strands, sprinkled with blood.
Smiling, the Woman sentimentally molds the cheese into a ball,
And rolls it delicately between her fingers.
She lifts her hand to her now-open mouth,
and pushes the cheese in with her bloodied digits.

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...

Et le monde les regarde sans parler...

The world is not ready. Chances are, it never will be. Even when this land is covered in ash, the ground scorched and blackened, and the sky filled with the tattered remnants of unknown works; even then They will demand more time. But this time is not Theirs to request, and surely it is not mine to give. They have had their chance, and They have squandered it.

I did not come here to punish Them -- that was never my intention. Indeed, I still do not see it as punishment, though I know They do not understand. To Them, I am the one who will ruin everything, and They believe that I do so because They are "unworthy" or "lazy". But this is not retribution. This was always going to happen, no matter what They did. They perceive things as They are able, and I feel no need to correct Them. Let Them comfort themselves in whatever ways They can.

The one request made of Them was that They prepare themselves for this moment. They were told what They must do, and They were told what would happen. Most if not all of Them made efforts at first, but as time wore on each One lost sight of His own purpose, and without purpose motivation dies. Thus we find ourselves at this point: Them unprepared and frightened, and me with my job to do. I can't help but feel sorry for Them, but soon enough it will all be over.

And so I begin my work, with these thoughts troubling my soul. This is the way it is -- nothing can change that -- but I am not an unfeeling being. I suppose that is why I was chosen. To do what must be done without feeling would be to dishonor Them. And They are worthy of honor, let no one doubt it. Great deeds have been done by Them, great works created. They should not be scorned or hated, despite Their failures. So I honor Them even as I take away that which They value most. I have hope that perhaps this time, finally, They will learn...