From: mdw@theory.TC.Cornell.EDU (Matt Welsh)
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre,alt.non.sequitur,alt.prose
Subject: High Octane Fruit Juice
Summary: Another attempt at inducing mass hysteria. Please read.
Date: 8 Nov 92 00:17:27 GMT
Organization: Cornell Furry Center

As always, comments are appreciated, and seldom ignored. That being said,
I give to you...

High Octane Fruit Juice

Yum! ejaculated Jim, on the couch, who was trying Age Gyoza (Japanese pork
dumplings with a rich dipping sauce) for the first time. I told him that he'd
appreciate my culinary choices for the evening, which consisted primarily
of said Age Gyoza, veal ravioli, donuts, and squid fillet on toast. I sipped
contentedly on my Perrier and picked up my guitar. How loud can that thing
go? Jim inquired, referring to my shiny new kick-ass Sonic Boom 8000 watt 
practice amp, just for use at home when my other equipment was at the studio.
Demonstrating, I turned it up to 3 and watched his ears begin to bleed. Wear
earplugs like me, I advised, and turned the puppy up to 5, which required
the power company to reroute a 12 gigawatt bridge to my living room, as well
as significant window repair the next day. I slammed out a riff that would 
make Jimi Hendrix jealous and Tipper Gore mad as hell, and smashed my '54
black Les Paul Custom on the television set. Wow, man, you could be like
Nirvana, Jim said, but I declined his praise: No, I've only been playing for
a week, and besides Kurt Vonnegut's not man enough to smash a '54 black Les
Paul custom.

Later on Wendi came by to pick up Jim, but before she left we offered her 
some raw sea squirt on a bed of rice. She brought her freshly-shaven Shih Tsu 
along because he liked to ride in Wendi's pickup with his head out the window,
yapping uncontrollably at passing houses and motorists. Hi Shit Zoo, I greeted
the hairless canine by name, but he only barked and proceeded to gnaw on Jim's 
foot. Eventually they were ready to leave and I gave Jim a fiver, Don't spend 
it all in one place, and You kids have fun, I bade them. 

To provide the obligatory Molecule Contest winner reference, I brushed the 
guitar scraps off the TV and switched it on to CNN. Damn commercials, I 
snarled, and flipped through the channels until I got to the Home Shopping
Network. Ah, my favorite, I was relieved that something good was on after
all. The Marmoset Lamp was going for only $59.95, and was very tempting,
but as I reached for my credit cards and my cordless Mickey Mouse phone one
of the most intriguing and endearing products I'd ever seen sold on television
came up: the Joe Vigneau and Mao Tse-Tung inflatable doll set. The 
craftsmanship on these dolls was amazing, and I thought back to my days as an 
inflatable doll engineer in East Berlin... memories rushed over me, and I could
take it no more: within 30 seconds I was uncontrollably dialing the 1-800 
number flashing on the screen: CALL NOW! GET YOUR JOE VIGNEAUS AND YOUR MAO 
TSE-TUNGS! ONLY WHILE SUPPLIES LAST! The line was busy... the Home Shopping 
Network must have been swamped with calls pouring in for this ultimate 
bargain... panicked, I dialed the operator and demanded an emergency 
breakthrough. What? She said, that's an 800 number you're calling! I know, My 
sister is the operator there, and Your job's on the line if you don't put me 
through, so officiate yourself for God's sake, I threatened. Assert your powers
as an operator!

Reluctantly I was finally allowed to bypass the toll-free traffic coming into
the Home Shopping Network and connected with the operator (who was indeed
my sister) to order my inflatable doll set, specially imported from New
Brunswick. I waited impatiently through a dead silence of thirty seconds while
the order was verified, but my American Express Gold Card had expired in
1973, and the HSN didn't take CODs or Discover. I was at loss, and unable to
Master the Moment as my girlfriend ran over my MasterCard with the weedeater
last week. I was close to tears... Is there anything I can do? I blubbered
into the receiver. Well, no, unless... said my sister, the Home Shopping 
Network operator, and a glimmer of hope sprung to my eyes... Unless what?
Unless what? I demanded. Gee, I'm sorry, she said, That would be incest.

I slammed down the phone and sought out my antitank rocket launcher, and
headed out to find some tanks to wield it on. Hold on there a minnit, sonny,
said Jim, who was only around the corner talking to Wendi. Why didn't you 
guys go out? I asked, but they merely shook their heads. The dog siphoned
all the gas out of the car, they explained. We're stuck. Here, borrow my 
motorcycle, I said, and tossed Jim the keys. Gee, thanks man. No big deal, I 
said, and if you see any tanks on the way will you nab them for me? Sure thing,
Jim said, and I gave him the rocket launcher to take along on the trip.

mdw

-- 
Matt Welsh    mdw@tc.cornell.edu        +1 607 253 2737
Systems Programmer, Cornell Theory Center
  "She's like jelly roll, like sculpture!"