From: larne@canetoad.UUCP (Larne Pekowsky)
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: The taste is gonna move ya!
Distribution: world
Date: 12 Nov 92 18:51:58 EDT
Organization: The Satellite of Love


Experiments during the sixties developed a number of techniques for
ripping holes in subjective spacetime.  However, I was never one
for ingesting unfamiliar large-chain molecules, with the notable
exception of "Chewy sweet tarts."  But wait, that gives me an idea.  I
run upstairs to the cafeteria, and over to the soda machine!  Yes!
They still sell Mountain Dew!  I buy four cans and take them back to
my cubicle.

Fifteen minutes and one huge belch later I can feel reality begin to
soften around me.  The edges of my perception go fuzzy, and then dark,
as photons see the strange look in my eyes and hear the semi-crazed
giggling, and decide they should stay as far away from me as possible.
The local electrons notice the photons going out of their way to avoid
me, and begin to whisper among themselves that maybe they should all
suddenly find other places to be.  Eventually though the decision
is made for them, as the protons flee for the hills when I start singing
the GoGo's "Vacation" as loud as possible and laughing uproariously.

Now you might think this would leave me in a vacuum, but you'd be quite
wrong.  While all those lily-livered low energy quanta are protecting
their worthless eigenvalues, all the exotic particles are flocking to me.
Strange quarks, bizarre bosons, hyper-twisted string fragments and
those other things that look like microscopic Harvey Kormans surround
me, constructing a new reality to replace the other one.

I find myself in a grove of what, for lack of a better word, I'll call
trees.  Small Hamburglers leap from branch to branch singing the words
to the original Star Trek theme to the tune of the Wiseguy theme.  The
spirit of John Cage listens and weeps, maybe with horror, maybe with joy.

A bit later I find the local International House of Angst.  I go in and
order a large stack of blueberry angst with a side of desolation waffles.
It tastes just like my last job, so I spit it out, pay my bill and leave
a generous tip of warm fuzzies.

As I leave, I notice the little fuzzy buggers eating everything in
sight and crapping out large turds of happiness and human kindness.
Ha!  That'll show those corporate nazis!

I'm feeling so good about my little trick that I completely fail to
notice that I have wandered into that most dangerous realm, "The land
of the weak ending."

I run for my life, but when I reach the border of weak-ending land I find
that it no longer has a border - it stretches to infinity in all directions.

Suddenly, I realize that weak-ending land has filled this unstable
existence because at this point I have nowhere to go with this story.
Space begins to fold up around me in a recursive vortex of self-
referentiality.

*Bang* I'm back at my desk, watching the last tiny fragment of the
physical manifestation of my nightmare melt into a single glistening
drop of Mountain Dew.  I wipe it up and continue programming.

--
...uunet!canetoad!larne                          canetoad!larne@uunet.uu.net
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre