Date: 2013-03-31
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Miles today: 0.0

The flatulation orchestra reached its final crescendo around 11:00 p.m., then gradually trailed off throughout the night of several noxious moons as the notes grew more and more tired of one another and eventually separated entirely."It's for the best," one blurted."Yea," whimpered another."I'll call you," it squeaked. (It never did.)After the sun rose and the tents fell and the squad finished engaging in traditional morning fellatio to bolster group cohesion, we hit the trail single file in between Squads 358 and 371, tapping the HYOH scanning checkpoints every quarter mile so that we would indeed Have our Own Hike by the end of this clinically prescribed experience.Today at 11:15 a.m. we were scheduled to enter Franklin, NC, the town formerly governed by Richard Haven, grandson of the renowned Ron Haven. Richard used to carry on his grandfather's tradition of providing shuttles for hikers to and from the trail and his chain of economy hotels. However a few years back Richard got in some trouble when two hikers fighting over the extra roll of Great-Value toilet paper in the hotel's bathroom shattered the mirror revealing one of several hidden cameras streaming to the private website "www.dirtyhikerpoles.cum". (The Dirty Hiker Pole scandal is still a sore subject for many Franklin residents.)So instead of rounding the last bend into Winding Stair Gap to find shuttles awaiting by the roadside, we were greeted by yet another backed-up hitching line."God damn it," groaned French Fry Dave."Whadid I tell you 'bout talkin' shit on God?" Yogi replied, offended. This would be the 14th time Dave insulted him (8th unintentional), and I felt a sense of comforting rapport while marveling at how insecure this strange god of Yogi's must be if he's so easily offended.Thomas the Choo Choo Train approached me as the others fell back out of earshot. He looked deeply concerned, and put a hand on my shoulder. "You should really try to integrate into the group more and reconsider joining us during fellatio. The others are starting to think you're... well... antisocial.""I just don't feel comfortable putting another man's penis in my mouth. Is that really so abnormal?""It might not be an obvious abnormality, but it's a step in the wrong direction. Shirking group fellatio is gateway behavior to more dangerous activities, like blowing up buildings with homemade explosives."I pondered the connection. He had a good point; a large percentage of domestic terrorists neglected fellatio in their earlier years.Thomas the Choo Choo Train continued, "You're the product of divine social forces, and it's our moral responsibility to maximize cohesiveness within said forces, for the evolutionary benefit of future generations. Don't be ungrateful to the societal influences that created you. Don't be a hipster."Ouch.With that warning Thomas the Choo Choo Train departed to calm the rising tension between French Fry Dave and Yogi, whose argument had now Progressed to a competition of who could laugh the most casually at the other.As the squad inched closer to the road in the neatly aligned queue of filth, a TA came into view, behind a table stocked with damp paper towels, various anti-depressants, and Banana Nut-Dongs. The paper towels were presumably for cleaning our hiking poles out of respect for the Franklin residents (or so according to the gossip trickling down the hitching line). A few inches from the TA's head loomed the barrel of a fully loaded Bushmaster .223 semi-automatic assault rifle in the hands of another government official."This time venture to restrain your innate impulse of making an ass out of yourself," KD Negro kindly suggested.I smiled appeasingly. "Sure. Ok."The line slowly moved forward. Eventually I was next."I am an ethical person." the TA introduced himself."Hi. Thanks." I took a paper towel and a donut, being extra careful not to acknowledge the silent guardian and his necessary coercion."Here, take some pills. These pills will make you happy.""I think I'm good with just the donut, but thanks.""But they'll make you happy.""But I'm already happy.""They'll make you happier. You can't have enough of a good thing. Trust me. I went to college.""But--""Just take the damn pills," KD Negro interjected."Ok, fine." I took the pills."No that's ok, don't say 'Thank You'. Ungrateful little shit..." the TA continued murmuring as I walked off.I could hear KD Negro apologizing for my ineptitude as I approached the road.I joined a group of 3, the remainders of the squad we met the previous night. We held out our thumbs and put on a politician's smile to prove to any passer-byes that we were good, honest people. Eventually one stopped.I routinely tucked my now clean hiking poles behind the straps on the back of my pack, where they were out of the way and I didn't have to worry about them.---"Don't you get scared out there though, spending every night alone in the woods?""Well, we spend one night a week in our tents, but there's always a safety siren nearby. The other nights we're in the lodges or in town.""What about squirrels? Do you bring pepper spray? I have a friend who has a friend whose roommate's dog's former owner got bit by a rabid squirrel one time. You can never be too careful nowadays..."A crow flew by and our driver slowed down to 10 as he nervously watched it out of the corner of his eye."Is that your kid? I've seen his picture on the Net before."POP pointed to a picture on the dashboard of a kid who obviously had down syndrome."Yep, that's my boy! He's very special, one of those individualist types. Can't say I agree with everything he stands for, but I'm proud of him for being unique. Kind of a rebel, you know.""We know the type all too well, " GS commented."That's right, I bet you see all kinds of variety out on the trail," he said the word tentatively, like he was safe talking with us outsiders about the unpopular idea."Well, you know, deep down we're all the same. We all need each other to pull through. We all need the lodges and the safety sirens and the fellatio. It's a social trail."They continued talking while I admired our driver's terse quarter-schedule displayed on the car's central touchscreen. 10:45a Fellatio; 11:00a Depart; 11:15a Hikers;11:30a Cohere;11:45a Cohere;Etc. Now here was a responsible adult. It was good to know civilization still churned while we all took our various leaves of absences.Coincidentally the conversation shifted to our laid back, play-it-by-ear schedule."So let me get this straight...you haven't even set a finish date? You don't know exactly where you'll be 5 months from now??""Well, no, we only plan out about 3/4 of the quarter hours for the next few weeks--""--wait, you don't even plan out all of your quarter hours??" the driver asked incredulously. He was in shock by our reckless lifestyles."No, we're pretty laid back, and sometimes we'll take an unscheduled break, like if we've got a steep climb and have to catch our breath.""Jesus! Not a care in the world, just goin' with the wind. I really envy that lifestyle!"GS gazed out the window into the transcendental unknown with the solemn expression of a seasoned adventurer -- a free spirit, a hardened veteran, looking for that ever-changing horizon as the car rounded the bends at 10 mph.45 minutes later we arrived at the check-in station."Hey, I didn't catch your trail names!""I'm Gooch Scratcher""Pile O' Piss""Deer Rapist"Our hitchee turned to me, and as I opened my mouth to answer POP cut me off."Thanks again for the ride! It was nice talking to you!" He drove off.Sighing, POP turned around, half-smirked, shook his head, and walked off.***************Labyrinths of monolithic shelves saturated with data and information on every possible iota of a concept. White, unprejudiced secrets capable of liberating one from the abhorrence of the gray unknown. Innumerable selfless perspectives converging into one omniscient eternal perspective, with an everlasting trail of creditable references encoded behind maximally complex analogues. Vague, grammatically incorrect sentences establishing veritable creative dominance. Unnecessary verbose descriptions. Excessive details. Pretty words. Etc.A violated thesaurus lay tied and gagged on the floor. A man -- rather, an entity -- an accelerating advanced advancing mind free from basic earliest early physical constraints -- the bone-thin, pale-white, malnourished body of the last surviving Intellect sat at the table of knowledge. He was wearing a golden #1 Kiddopotamus Bibbity bib.Logic necessitated eating utensils at perfectly symmetrical opposing sides of the plate, while science stocked the plate with a stack of observable and empirically tested menus.He began slicing off pieces of menu with pinpoint accuracy."Hmm," the Intellect mused to himself as he chewed the laminated paper. "Interesting, though not fully developed. The appetizers are bearably trite. The sides are mildly pretentious."After swallowing the last bite of menu, the Intellect lubed up, grabbed the thesaurus, and proceeded to write a scathing review of its shallow, sub-par dish developments.***************"--rude. He's just a little slow picking up on cues."They stopped talking and simultaneously turned their heads as I stepped into the doorway."Yo Retard!" Yogi blurted, "you gotta phone call.""Someone called here?" I asked, surprised."Yea bro, he sounded stoned as shit...asked if I was a 'homo saypen'..."How Walter got the number to our specific hotel room so fast I will never know. I asked him about it some time later and he responded by reenacting the Big Freeze."What'd you tell him?""I said 'homo saypens' are a LIE by the GOVERMENT and evil-lution is BULLSHIT. Which it IS."A disinterested scoff came from the corner behind the other bed, and I just now noticed French Fry Dave sitting Inferior-style on the floor, writing what appeared to be a very heartfelt letter. His lips were slightly parted, his eyes intensely sincere. In the 10 days I'd known him, I had never seen him this emotionally vested in anything. I was intrigued."Writing a letter? That's pretty old school."He didn't look up, but his writing seemed to be slowing down, then he stopped, studied the paper for a few moments, held it upright, scanned the page for any remaining imperfections, eyes scrolling back and forth, head dipping in tiny nods of approval, and finally satisfied, he stood upright, jumped on the nearby bed, placed the letter between Mountain Dont and Deer Rapist, turned around, dropped his pants, squatted, and began shitting with violent force all over the letter, the bed, and everything else within a 10 foot radius."DUDE, WHAT THE F--" Any interruption was promptly silenced by the unintelligible exclamations of Dave's other mouth. The mostly solid brown lumps quickly turned more fluid and chaotic. All eyes were glued to the train wreck...nuts, corn, brown...green...red... I threw up. Mountain Dont threw up. The entire room threw up every precious ounce of food consumed in the past 12 hours. KD Negro entered the room. He threw up. Meanwhile liquid shit streamed endlessly with an occasional burst out of the volcano of Dave's Asshole. Fecal detritus decorated the walls, and the iridescent puddles of semi-digested strawberry poptarts and blueberry instant oatmeal and banana cream filled donuts was nothing short of Art. Finally the scatological orgy began to taper off, and silence permeated the sickly air.Nothing was sacred. Everything in the room had been touched by Dave. The letter was unreadable. Everyone was violated. The hiking poles were dirty.***************125 miles away in the city of Kennesaw, GA, Stare Decisis stood confidently at the counter of Taco Bell, squared shoulders burdening a perfectly balanced hiking pack, and asked if they still served the Colon Exploder, as was tradition. (Of course they didn't, having taken it off the menu 10 years prior in the name of scrupulous health, rigid safety, and anal stability.) He then ordered one #1, paid half in cash and half on his card (because he was a man of compromise), accused the cashier of shortchanging him, inquired about the cashier's educational background, suggested to the cashier that he consider getting a real job, and, honoring ritual, filled his drink and poured it out twice before making his final beverage choice.As he ate, he made a salsa palette across the top of his tray to fully express the nuances of his appetite. When he was finished eating he threw the tray in the trash can. As was tradition.Comforted by the familiar routine, Stare then exited the opposite door of the restaurant and Progressed southward on his life-changing adventure.***************"I've just made all of your lives that much more interesting. You're welcome.""...by shitting on them?!""Fuck you. I'm expressing myself," retorted French Fry Dave as he continued scooping the soggy feces into his shipping box."Maybe you should think 'bout GROWIN' THE HELL UP!""Maybe you should think about exercising your humility. Isn't that what your Jesus was all about?"I didn't hear the end of the exchange. I left to check on my clothes, because Progress knew I needed to change out of my current ones. Luckily my pack was near the outskirts of the putrid calamity. I grabbed it before leaving, relieved to find it didn't smell any worse than it normally did. My T-H badge would still be valid. I absently wiped off the more noticeable stains while my brain attempted to throw out the recently recorded memory, for fear of contamination.However now I wasn't sure if the extra walking was justified, considering my appetite had just gone AWOL. I changed, threw on my pack, and started walking anyway. I turned on my phone. It immediately rang."Do you feel like a more valuable Homo Sapien yet?" Typical greeting."Not really. In fact recent events have me feeling quite the opposite.""Hmm, I see, yes, hmm, I see...still having those self-confidence problems. Does your walking not give you a sense of power?""Huh? What do you mean?"Walter sighed. "Did you already forget the reason--""--oh no, I haven't forgotten--""--Your prescription mandates increases in your evolutionary advantages. Just as the muscle-head goes to the weights, the trapped-in-head to the books, the female to the mirror...they do so to improve themselves -- to make themselves more valuable. Pressure makes diamonds, and diamonds are powerful tools. You do want to be a powerful tool, don't you?""Sure, I guess so.""Good. Now there's a healthy, ripened Homo Sapien. Unlike some --" he started breaking up. I could barely make out agonizing groans in the background. I didn't want to know."You still there?" I hoped he wasn't."--mucilaginous pastries. As I was saying, according to the studies, a substantial proportion of subjects report at least a minor inflammation of self-worth by this point.""Oh." A car drove by with a middle finger protruding from the front window."Perhaps I'll check back in a few weeks. Just remember that all is one, and one will become all.""I don't know what that means.""It means that the only way for you to grow as a spiritual being is to make yourself believe that you are the universe.""Ok. Well I'll try harder then.""Potatoes.""What?""I was talking to my plants. I want them to undergo cellular floobity joobity and produce potatoes instead.""Ok I've got to go. And please don't call the hotels."In fact I did need to go, for an elderly man in a Hoveround was staring up at me with googly eyes, holding out a piece of paper."I really admire what you're doing, son. I tried thru-hiking in my earlier years but got bit by a rabid squirrel 100 miles in. This town needs people like you -- hell, the world does. I believe you all have the answer to what life's really about.""Thanks. It's been fun so far," I handed the paper back with 'Retard' signed in perfect cursive.***JISM2:Meanwhile God (the correct God, who incidentally happened to be Yogi's) decided to give humanity a second chance and resurrected Jesus Christ in the city of Boulder, CO. However no one would listen to a word that idealistic simpleton said because he didn't have a Master's degree or any other noteworthy academic credentials.Thus he was arrested and placed in a mental institution for his delusions of grandeur, where he suffered a much more thorough but indirect form of crucifixion.***"Welcome to McWalmart. Would you like to try a value meal?" the worker repeated mechanically. He looked vaguely familiar and out of place, muscular, chiseled face, like a football star I'd seen on the Net before. I had heard about people with the opposite condition of mine being prescribed to this type of work, but never seen a live example."Um, yea, I'll have a #3, two chickens, an extra side of raped potato, and, uhh, a fruity rainbow climax.""Would you like a side bowl of spicy Thai vegetable grease to honor International Heritage Month?""Oh, yes -- medium. And Alpha-size the meal."As he continued pushing buttons on his screen I began to hear some disgruntled murmuring behind me. Obscenities soon followed. They were interrupted by the computer emitting a loud error beep."Do you have some sort of ID? It says your order's over the calorie limit.""FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE!""Oh, yea," I reached into my pocket and pulled out my TH-ID, handing it over. There were more angry voices coming from behind me. A crowd had now gathered."TOO SOON!"As the cashier handed back my ID a hand tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around."Do you have any idea how disrespectful you're being?" an older woman asked contemptuously."What?""I know your type. Been around them for years. Think you're 'cool', think you can just ignore public standards and--""--oh no it's ok, I'm authorized to smell this bad." I showed her my Thru-Hiker identification badge."AHEM." I turned back around and the cashier had his arm outstretched, pointing towards the door. "I'm sorry sir, but we're going to have to ask you to leave.""What?" I flushed in frustration, not knowing what was going on. "Ok fine, I'll just leave.""YEA, you should be embarrassed, you disrespectful piece of shit!"The unified crowd began chanting "Pure Together, Dirty Alone", and as I reached the door I could hear the faint sound of zippers unzipping.I walked back to the hotel confused and hungry, musing about which polar end of the diametric public opinion observed in the past 10 days should carry more weight.Maybe Thomas the Choo Choo Train was right.Maybe I'm just a heartless, inconsiderate asshole.