My friend, Cheesy BoB, a bike mechanic, is a wierd, deranged, homicidal maniac with suicidal tendencies. At least that's him in a nutshell. BoB had often talked of meeting ThE GuRu, his Wizard of Oz, if you will. Everybody thought BoB was one CRAZED individual for thinking that his dream would one day come true. He later made me see the light.
In July of 1993, I met the esteemed Boris the Spider, who introduced me to the wonders of Pink Mongolian Goat Milk, to be consumed only when listening to Pink Floyd (On the Dark Side of the Moon). I understood totally when he mentioned the whole concept. The magic milk helped us understand the underlying meaning of this majorly funky (pronounced FOUN'KEE) music. This later helped me understand the whole concept of ThE GuRu!!!
ThE GuRu's objective was to travel through
or something to that effect. I first met SpamforBrains while walking with Chesy BoB and Amish Al, but they saw the story a little bit differently. As we were walking I saw this brown, maybe itallian young punkazz, uhh, well punk. The only thing he was wearing was a fig leaf and was shouting that his name was Adam and he was looking for Eve. Then he fell, got up, and started running into a wall saying he lost all his nerves in 'Nam (and something about liking the smell of Napalm in the morning). After he fell for the third time and after his brief unconscienceness he got up and introduced himself as SpamforBrains, we didn't know if this was one of his crazy, lunatic, just plain stupid names, so I mugged him and checked his I.D. Turns out that was his name. Oh well, he was a crazy son of a.....gun (sorry I'm trying to keep this clean).
We were off to see ThE GuRu, the wonderful Guru of Oz, or the Biscuit Mobile, whatever came first, or last, whichever. Or something. Yea, Cool.
"AAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHH! Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my Mental Cavity?" Then in a slightly more sane frame of mind a voice bellows in a nice deep tone "Also I would like to know why you can read my thoughts when I'm not talking!"
Sorry for the outbreak! I forgot this is a text file and not oh "Oops!" Not supposed to talk about the difference between this text file and reality!
BTW= I am ThE GuRu (Of the Biscuit mobile most psycadelic) Which (also BTW) Travels through
(the story of how I came in contact with the PBM)
(This is to say I influence the use of words made up and used properly)
I walked through my backyard as usual in a daze of wonder of the world around me. When I noticed a large patch of yellow grass. This grass has been deprived of sunlight for several months. Then I noticed its shape and it resembled a small trailer. Its as they say 'You never know what-cha got until you ain't got it no mo'(no ratial insult intended). The trailer was at an early resting place in my grandparents garden. I of course had to save it from the beatings of the scuffy little scumy invalids living next door who tormented with bb guns and such for eternity, and it was also suffering from something all possesions that get forgotten suffer from, lack of LOVE.
SO of course I had to spend several weeks begging my parental units for the safe transportation of the clunker death mobile. This was worth the begging, because after the inches of filth were scraped off it became an okay place to hang. Once technoligy found its way into the confines of such a place we found less reasons to leave the trailer. It was soon equiped with a color television which was homing for the out door life, I kid you not this TV was made for the wagon of weed (Now for no reason should you associate any lable of the trailer as a reflect on us, We do not use drugs, we only try to reflect the day an age around us when drugs (Mainly hemp,and halucinagins) are considered a party favor (At the parties we can't go to(NOT to say that we wern't invited but to say that we were not allowed) and I was just trying to add a hippie sort of flavor to the story) The tv worked at its best possible percentage of efficency. (Spellings not my strong point) (If you read this and words I spelt wrong are
spelled right, your copy is defective) My tv in my bed room self destucted and just about imploaded in an event I don't want to talk about. So my VCR became available so it too moved over to the Cannabis Camper. Soon my sony CD player became available and music rocks while we watch cool movies. Not yet has a proper moving of my computer to the camper happened for the main reason "There is no way your getting a phone line out there!" No modem no me! [G]
A brief self summery of myself (after the connection of the four popular druids) would be to say that I am the non-patriot of our group. Who doesn't love his country, nor hate it but hate the non-thinkers with-in-it. But enuf of political views, I have to reflect my hole personality, well I myself beleive that a person is made of what they love the most. And of course I have to be the exception to this rule. You see I can't decide If I like outside more than inside, music or movies, sci-fi, horror, romance, comedy, or thrillers, so in the end I guess my choice of personality is either very flexable or undicided. Possibly confused, born after my time yet within my time. I also tend to only make sense to myself, and other people I should like to refer ( or is that refer as in cannabis???) as clutter heads, a race of my own if you will. A type of person that can't express themselves well in certain situations but then well after the even have a briliant Idea of what should have happened.
Back to my personality I enjoy the brittish every thing and If I had the choice no doubt I would be brittish. And for this reason no one likes a certain percentage, but if I had to locate the single most important thing to the Druids, its laughter, to be laughed at or with, it doesn't matter but its the single most thing we seek in life is fun, excitement, and silliness, and the greatest of these is silliness.
(Although most humor is in bad taste life gets around it, what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, and that which kills you is only used once after that you either learn your lesson or die.)(not as pleasant as it could have been).
When I say we, I of course mean myself and SpamforBrains.
(Who may or may not be apearing in this story)
I have known him for 7 years now, he's a native american with an Italian background. Dark skin (For some reason Drives the wimmins MAD) dark hair, and while the compliments are rolling he's kind of strong.
He's got an easy going personality, one that wins over people with charm but on off days could make you die in confusion (Don't bump his warts). Comming from me that doesn't mean alot, because no understands me anyway (see what I mean?). Except for those people selling religion on tv, But I look away for my own reasons, which leaves me religionless but happi.
(That last paragraph Was altered by the voices in my head)
But before I remember I must tell you about this chap I know. His Name is um well we don't know I just call him PaperBag Head. He hasn't had a good life. For some reason He has this paper bag on his head, its surgically attached. Its confused me for a long time. We hope to show the little guy a good time once we find out where to find fun. I say little in referance to his heigth. He is 6" tall. Yea Inches! So he usually bunks in the cabinet with the sitrinella. He seems to like it. It gives him a two to three day buzz.
He speaks no known language, and likes to stand in my front pocket when I wear Flannel. He's a funny little guy that paper bag head. I guess I do Know his origin. I was sitting in my math class. Algebra 1. (SUCKS) I started drawing a person being hung at a gallows, but I couldn't get the face right so I drew a paper Bag. I met him the same day. I suppose he could have come to life from a little drawing, but then where's the rope?
By secret modes of accelleration ![G]
My name is Cheesy BoB. People call me Cheesy BoB. My parents were not sure if they wanted to call me Ozymandias, Boutros-Boutros, Elvis, or Li, so they decided to call me Cheesy BoB (go finger--I mean figure).
Don't you hate it when you are walking down the street and you fall down? It happens to me ALL the time!!
I can remember yesterday like it was, well, yesterday. Of course, nothing important in my life happened yesterday, except of course live long enough to live this day!
But there was this time when I was walking with two very good (and rich, if I might add) friends, Super CrackBaby and Amish Al, through a minority run part of town that was pretty much run down and had this overwhelming stench of cow manure and butane. I'm pretty sure it was the Penn District. Anyway, we were walking (repeating ourselves, aren't we?), and this crazed maniac, and naked if I might add, named SpamforBrains (how do we know what his name is? Don't worry about it, and never doubt me again!) comes running out of these rose bushes, yelling something about liking the smell of Napalm in the morning, (needless to say, his face, legs, and arms are all scratched up from the thorns) and stops about six inches from my face and starts yodeling. Temporarily tattooed on his forehead is a Barqtoo.
I must say that although his yodeling wasn't all that bad, it did get a little annoying. It took all but twenty minutes of pleeding and an Abe Lincoln (and I'm not talking about a penny) to persuade him to stop. When he did, we got into a conversation about trees when we found out we were all druids. What a co-ink-a-dink!
He was talking about this friend he had who had this crazy ambition to fly through
Amish Al was a beauty living on the edge of town. I think she was described in a Meathead-- I mean Meatloaf -- song (Objects In The Rear View Mirror May Appear Closer Than They Are - 2nd verse). She had two sisters that didn't look or act anything like her, but they were still pretty cool.
Amish Al was a bright student in school. The teacher had to continually ask her to wear a hat over that DAMN light-- I mean head--of hers (profanity's cool!).
I don't know why, but she had this overwhelming fondness for the 'Alien' trilogy. It has been a lifelong dream of hers (well, actually since '92) to have a stamp made of her hero, Sigourney Weaver. Of course she had the problem of deciding if she wanted the Sigourney Weaver with hair, or without. If you have any questions or comments about this, or a spare twenty just burning a hole in your pocket, please send them to:
Me, myself, and I. I think of myself as a little shy, so don't try to get to know me (although my personality is open for the taking). I was brought up in a home that would make you want to kill yourself (don't take me wrong, I wouldn't be able to write this if I were dead, I won't deny that I'm alive, but I took it a different approach. My parents are no longer!! HA HA HA!!!!!!)
Before my parents brutal and untimely death, my mother had this crazy idea to send me to a psychiatrist (WHEW). I was open to the idea, but when I mentioned that the sessions would be confidential and she would not be able to know what was said (my mother was very nosey!), she withdrew her proposal (I didn't talk to my mother, we hated each other).
My schooling is somthing I'd rather not talk about, but let's just say I'm another Mark Ludwig (a clsssmate of Super CrackBabys and mine fathers and a former student of Penn High School. When Super CrackBabys father was a senior, in '72, so was Mark Ludwig. And when my father was a senior, in '74, so was Mark Ludwig. It was rumored that they graduated him just because he was twenty-one).
So here I am. Writing about adventures that are crazy, silly, stupid, and yet, great entertainment. Yep, you guessed it...I'm majorly screwed! But come on, I'm having fun at the expense of myself and my friends. Now, if only I could get paid for doing this! That would be the life...
of a destination unknown. This crazy ambition just happened to be one of my own and of Super CrackBaby. This discussion led me to find out that this friend of his just happened to be the one, the only... ThE GuRu!!!
C/O AMISH AL
P.O. BOX 54
MISHAWAKA, IN 46546
ThE GuRu (Which is me) was looking for the one thing that was needed for a trial flight of the Capsule..................................POWER! Or to explain the problem better I should have to explain several things about life the universe and everything, and maybe the dynamics of our trusty stead, but for no reason shal I tell you what I was doing running up and down mishawaka Ave in the middle of the night with a self created fog of mamoth smoke bombs wearing only undies and a clear garbage bag! (Because it's none of your buisness and none of you knew it was me until I just said (Which brings up the questions "Why did you say it?" well the answer is easy it was a froidien slip(See later chapters for furthur explanation)
But (again?(Yes Again!) By some sort of miracle a man came forth and pointed me in the direction of truth for when all else fails watch the (Original) Weird Science (Movie) and it is stated "Then shal ye know!" and I was shown the truth in a faital scene"The bathroom" A fuel and acceleration pattern was noted! And from them thanx to Super CrackBaby the Clunker death mobile was christened in a beautifl cerimony:
=Flash bacK=
In a beautiful rainy day the skies were pouring and we were gathered in the hut of happiness when a fine citizen of the comunity threw his might bottle of zima (empty) at our ship and it shattered as his rust bucket from hell putted down the alleyway doing 35 mph and swaying back and forth. I came out into the rain and addressed the vehicle "In the name of the zima bottling corp. I forever or until your are destroyed into little bits, Christen thee to be 'The Psycadellic Biscuit Mobile' and never shal thee be called the death mobile and never shal thy aluminum siding oxidize and also never shal your frame rust completely through"
=ReturN=
The sceen made it obvious that the usage of 'floating biscuits' had no relevance on the ground, there fore its potency and availability was to say that it can be recycled from the air into a source of energy to push us through the tedious lengths of hyper-space only to fall out in some new or old, time or place. The ship is an ever alternating vehicle, its outward aperance is non changeable but the inside varies in sizes, not because some of the druids don't show up, and not because we are wacked out on something we found in the forest of gravel, but because it has a life of its own and takes us to places it wants to go luckily we like the same things and me being the GuRu gives me some control over our destination.
{Ps: If you didn't know, SpamforBrains wasn't always this messed up. I don't know what happened but I know one thing: I didn't do it!}
Our biggest problem was of course storing this hazardous concoction.
These questions I now ponder. Because me being the Guru should set some sort of example to the Druids who look to me for their wisdom. I myself want to go back in time to find out what the place looked like on Capitol bridge, the place we wonder in ruins on moutain bike, the place we call the garden of gravel. (I.E. The gravel pits) Its ruins spread over an acre or just a little smaller. I would take the Druids but we'd have to find new clothes, or rather old clothes to make us look like we belong in the time period.
But come to think of it nothing steers the Biscuit mobile. So Research until we get a guidance system, because if we don't find out where the factory was and wasn't we could materialize in a Cement pillar, or hill of rock that doesn't exist now but existed then.
Time is so tricky. You may be asking your self What about the PBM being alive? Well that was pure crap just a belief I should like to enforce after I meet a wizard. Although we are druids, this doesn't mean we shy from technoligy. Far from it. It would be easy to say I threw my computer into the trailer and made it fly a strait line but that would be generic and far from the point of what I'm trying to get across although I've probably lost it again and one of my other personalites could have burned it if I wrote it down somewhere, but I didn't!
I turned to magical personalized copy of 2600 givin to me by a enchanter it uniquely tells me how to do any tech work on anything I need. So I took it out to the PBM and opened it and iT all became clear to me.
I ripped everything out of the closets and threw them to the floor and ran inside my house. Now I did this not from rage but from the solution, it needs to be concealed because it looks crapy with out being hidden. So I found myself rummaging through boxes when I looked at something that had been catching my eye since I started but then it registered. I took My stereo, my karioky machine, answering maching, jambox, alarm clock, radio, and an empty spam can. To which I rigged into a space-time parallel parking machine. This of course was what We needed to save our selves from bonding with atoms of another kind (OUCH!)
Um Ooh I don't feel to well (Did I tell you I was prone to passing out and dreaming, well guess whaaaaaaaaaa......................tuh [thud]
A large room with a spiral staircase on the left and a large door to the right and in the middle of the room there is a group of 8 people. (4 guys 4 girls) Behind the people on the couches was a very large picture window. Looking down onto the small town below. (The house was on a large hill) (the people were talking and laughing) In front of the couches that faced each other was a small coffee table covered with the remains of five pizzas and a few articles of alcohol.
The groups attention was suddenly aroused by something at the top of the stairs. This is where a large man stood. He stood as if trying to address a much larger crowd. He raises his glass high to height of his arm. His glass was mush bigger than their's, it was the size of a small fishtank and was made of brass but resembled gold. He lowered it to his mouth where he guzzelz almost 1 galon of whine Which some how improves his visions of the speech he's about to present to his friend and then the moment comes and he speaks. He says "Dear friends, I have something I need to share with you." A short pause a small belch and his train of thought was chuging down the tracks again "Although you know me by my many aliases from the bbs's such as Blackadder, Arnold Rimmer, and ThE GuRu. I am really and truely, now I've never told anyone this! But I am...Seriously....Don Quixote De LaMancha" and then he falls down the stairs. At the bottomhe gathers his thoughts and starts again but this time singing the entire soundtrack of the original play "MAN OF LAMANCHA" leaving the correct pauses between each song and singing the female parts that were way to high above the male spectrum.
At this time we can assume that anyone that has time to listen to the entire soundtrack so many times you know all the words and can sing it all verbatum, must have way too much time on their hands.
And now you are introduced to the main charactor in this story.
The large amount of people on the sofa are now convinced that they should have never looked up infact they question why they lost intrest in each other in the first place. Soon it came to their attensionthat a large bang, that sounded as if the man that was singing had walked into the kitchen and had failed to kill himself because he was having trouble fitting into the oven and couldn't find the knives, and was beating himself to death with an oversized frying pan because he had forgotten the words to 'Little bird, little bird', was infact comming from the kitchen.
It wasn't soon before the banging stoped and the large man lay unconsious on the kitchen floor dreaming about what is was like to be the worm in a tequila bottle. Understanding the size of the worm compaired to the amount of tequila, would be like swimming in an ocean of alcohol. His dream had come true. But then he went into thinking about it deeper, how much air does a worm need to breath? And how do they swim? These questions puzzeled him into changing his mindand becomeing a delivery service for unusually delicate items. But then the business got slow and he ended up throwin ghimself off the tallest building he could find, and before he hit the ground he remembered he'd only knocked himself out and all this was a dream. Suddenly he awoke in the kitchen suffering from lonleiness he made himself a sandwich. Then he passed out only to wake up waving good bye to all his friends as they race away on their motorcycles kicking up dust on the dirt road home. But he stayed. Because he lives here in this gigantic house all alone. He stays sane by thinking that as long as a PC is near he'll only be a phonecall away from cyberspace the land of words that are the faces of people.
"This story is depressing," I say to the crowd who had just watched as I natirated that story " and if anyone sees this besides the creator, they should not kill them selves because it is not their life." I take a breath and blindly read the card I am handed " There is ofcourse one person who can't say that, and thats the creator." "So the person who is writting this, that you have already read should not kill himself even thought it is my life." Pondering, I suddenly realize all that has come of this and I stand confused staring at all the people, when I wake up surounded by the druids staring at all the crap I cramed into the PBM. It was all a dream? I think to myself as I walk over to the PBM and a Gold Cup catches my eye, it had been sitting on the table in the garage.