A vicious plot to either steal or restore the souls of average Americans has been uncovered during a routine drug bust of CIA-Moonie cross-dressers and B&D Fetishists, early this morning, in a pre-dawn raid that netted an arms cache of automatic weapons, hand grenades, plastic explosives, missile launchers, and several fully operational tactical nuclear warheads.
Arrested in the raid, in various states of undress, cross-dress, and success-dress, were the CEOs or technology chiefs or presidents or whatever of most of the nation's leading high technology firms: Steve Case or Chase or whatever of Albania Online, Ralph Waldo Ellison of Orifice Computing, Hans Christian Andreessen of Nutscrape Enterprises, and Clive Barksdale, also of Nutscrape.
As they were being rounded up, the partially bondage-clad CEOs or whatever, were willing to spit out their ball-gags long enough to speak to reporters and reveal the techniques and devices they'd used to suck out the souls of their former employees and friends.
The 4 or 5 prominent captains of the soft/hardware industry, revealed, in their stories, utterly divergent origins, all filled with lots of para-, extra-, and meta-, type words, usually ending in normal.
Ellison, for example, had escaped from a penal colony on another planet. Case or Chase, though of this planet, had come from another time in the distant past. Barksdale was from another dimension altogether. And Andreessen was, apparently, a purely fabricated being (partly designed by Barksdale) who never existed anywhere or anytime other than here and now.
"It turns out that the reality we know," said Dr. Rebecca Kramer, a forensic neurobiologist for the LAPD, "Has really been just a by-product of the sexual fetishisms, and murderous libertarianisms and antidisestablishmentarianisms of these men or organisms or whatever, who, though not of this space or time or physics, are nonetheless, the only genuine inhabitants of this planet at this moment. And we, are no more than their least belch, sneeze, fart, or digestive sound. In fact, we are no more than the merest figment of the imaginations of their belches, sneezes, farts, and digestive sounds."
As if to prove it, she touched herself "down there" and her body instantly smashed itself, several times each, against all 4 walls and the ceiling and floor, with utter impunity. Then she astral projected to Cuba and back, and pulled off several consecutive reincarnations, without even a change of clothes.
"You see," she said, almost sorrowfully, "It's all just been a fucking lie. Not even a lie. Whatever reality really is, lying is just a nostril hair by comparison with the duplicity of it all. Not duplicity. Duplicity is just a molecule of hydrogen sulfide when compared to what's really going on. Sorry, but I have a seminar to go to now."
According to Ellison, "It will generate one billion dollars in ad revenue by the end of the century."
The arrests may cost the men their shot at an AFC wildcard berth. With an 8-7 record, a win next Sunday, coupled with a loss by the Denver Broncos, would have given them home-field advantage for the first game and a second week bye in the playoffs, or something.
Also found in the love nest, was Walt Disney's living brain, floating in a toilet tank and apparently sustained by a T3 connection to the sewage line directly below.
Said Disney, "I can vouch for all these people. They're just figments of my imagination. None of this really happened."
"What do you mean happened?," Disney responded to himself, in a completely different voice that seemed to come from the bowl, rather than the tank.
"That's because it's not a voice at all," said Disney. "You see, everybody needs more speed and the more they can get at an economical price, the happier they'll be or whatever. But who gives a fuck, because that high speed is only available in one direction. The much bigger issue to concern us in the next year is compatibility. But who gives a fuck, because voicemail, paging and email will soon all be available from a single handset.
"Right now, messages I send you, travel at the speed of a miniature Powerbook with all the Newton applications."
"You can't touch the screen," Case or Chase added, "Though I know you can hook it up to a SCSI port with the proper adapter."
"Yes," said Ellison, as though on cue, "It has a new docking adapter and it's really cool looking."
"I don't have time for this now," said Andreessen, "I'm scheduled for a kickboxing match in Manilla tomorrow, to avenge the brutal murder of my brother in a rigged tae kwan do, or something, match last year in Korea. If ya know what I mean."
"These men are no more guilty than Bob Shapiro," said the arresting officer, Detective Vanatter, accidentally dropping and breaking a blood vial he was carrying. "Shit, I knew I should have brought that to the Parker Center first, or something," he muttered as he tried to snap the cuffs on Case or Chase, or find some blood stains for the Simpson case or leftover Dorito fragments, from the Bronco chase.
Suddenly, Andy Grove of Intel showed up, and a war of eyeballs broke out, as the grown men started throwing, you know, eyeballs at each other and giggling and saying frivolous things like, "Money shrinks time." Which only cracked them up more.
As the men were being carted away, Ellison asked not to be handcuffed, so he could complete work on the screenplay adaptation for his upcoming film, "When Malls Collide," during the ride to the Parker Center in the police van. Case or Chase asked that he not be handcuffed, so he could complete work on his avant-garde cyberpunk novel, 'The Soullessness of an Old Machine." Andreessen asked that he not be handcuffed, so he could finish work on his next hit single "Cache the Wind." And Barksdale asked that he not be handcuffed, so he could finish getting shit-faced and writing the Java code for the latest, hippest model of the artificial heart.
"Java is a perfect fit for the artificial heart," he told the police by way of justifying his request, "Because it's being marketed as the salvation of people with artificial souls."
|[ FRIDAY | ARCHIVES | C3F ]|
Copyright (c) 1996 by C3F