Our intelligent, sober motto was "Fuck the other side -- even if there's no such thing!!"

It was after 3/3. Everything was different now. GAME1 was failing to give people the permanent erections of the past, though critics were still rating everything "Permanent Erection!!!" in public (the ratings, not the erections) anyway.

But, as yet, only elite athletes of extreme fantasy reenactments seemed to have the stuff to even think about entering a GAME2 mockup. So the masses were painfully stuck between themselves and each other.

After the ceremony, where everybody had accepted their Nobel Land Mines for Peace except me, we were taken in separate limos to exclusive box seats in Stockholm Stadium.

A rigged GAME2 game would be showing up here later to take over, but part of it being rigged was the deal that people in the exclusive box seats would not be killed while everybody else was being killed, so they (the people in the exclusive box seats) could watch unimpeded by death. This was apparently a special treat given to Nobel Land Mine laureates even if they turned the Nobel Land Mine itself down.

But first we had to wade through the old GAME1 game. Some local 12-year-old girls who'd participated in bringing civilization to its knees on 3/3, sang the national anthem:

Hey, Hey, I'm totally doped up
Hey, Hey, I'm totally doped up
C'mon Get aboard the train
The train to uh uh uh
Uhhh, who gives a shit where.

The President of Sweden came and sat in our box as the game got underway. He congratulated me on turning down their stupid Nobel Land Mine for Peace.

"It's my revenge against doped up baseball, for not picking up my waivers," I said, "They're all part of this same shit with the Nobel Land Mine Committee."

Only a few years ago, I had come over from Cuba to play doped up baseball. I could make all kinds of leaping, diving, rolling-over, shoestring, bread basket, over the shoulder catches, with my eyes closed but I had to be on constant IV drip lysergic acid at the time. However, it only took a few tabs of street acid taken orally 30 minutes before coming up to bat, for me to consistently hit any pitch out of the park no matter where it was and regardless of whether the umpires were looking or not.

Obviously, then, I should have just settled for being a designated hitter, where I wouldn't need to push my IV bottle over on its pole from the second base side, every time I had to dive for a hot smash up the middle.

But, instead, I was given my unconditional release and since I didn't have any other skills, the only thing I could do was just win Nobel Land Mines for Peace and the only thing you can do with those that makes any sense or has any meaning is turn them down and call everybody a douchebag.

After the singing of the national anthem, the GAME1 game got underway but the 12-year-olds stayed on the PA system and started haranguing the audience about how cool it was that they (the hundreds of 11-13 years-olds around the world who were involved) had brought down human civilization at a cost of just a few dollars each, and how they'd reversed thousands of years of social organization in an instant using only water balloons and Ready-Whip and, of course, an advanced computer simulation of world traffic flow coupled with complete satellite photos of all world highways that, together, could pinpoint and rank the most strategically crippling overpasses to drop whipped-creme filled water balloons onto windshields from, in the world.

"Even though this operation was 5 generations in the making," one of them said, "the previous 4 generations were just wasting their time, spinning their proverbial wheels, as neither the conditions nor the technology existed during any of..."

She was cut off by another voice... "Water balloons and Ready-Whip and overpasses have been around for 5 decades...

Who was cut off by ... "But the infrastructure was never this complex and interdependent and so easy to..."

And by... "But so many world pre-teens were never so ready to pull a world terror stunt like this..."

The argument rang out back and forth over the PA system as play tried to proceed. The meaning of post-world collapse times and the good or bad of having brought it on and brought it on just for the hell of it (despite its (the collapse's) hundred plus years of being in the making).

There were two on and two out and a two - two count on the batter in the bottom of the second when the GAME2 players, as the first move in trying to so totally get the fuck out of reality, burst through the ceiling of the Stockholm Dome and rappelled down to precisely what their infield and outfield positions respectively should have been, had they been playing the upcoming batter straight-away.

To be continued...

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