Automatic Writing, Here's the experiment

[Lithe_Joint]

Chapter unknown.

Eboe recovers within minutes and I thank the rising star that he is not one to bear grudges.

The Shutter is a device. Like most things in this escapade and more than a device, it is usefull. Certainly not usefull for the purpose it was intended, mind. We had both been given more useless information than one would normally expect in a lifetime (and actually more than one would expect in rhis situation). But usefull it has become, we realised.

Brutal as they are, they really do not have an idea about taking care of confidential information and we sponged.

The Shutter is a trans-projectillic porthole, which escapees could utilise to their benefit, if they were clever enough. Now, I am not stating that we are rocket scientists, but common! Even a grade 17 student would have cottoned on sooner or later...

Eboe mutters into life and I manage to drag our sorry asses onto the hotplate. The puzzlement in his eyes when I hit the GO button, streams into an optical liniarity within nanoseconds.

Destination unknown.

[Lithe_Joint]

And that is why Eboe is leaking gaslight. He tells me that we should not start the cycle again.
Ofcourse, he is refering to the negative influence a Quantomosis has on a NBT implant, which co-incidentally, he has the misfortune of being equipped with...I remember now...

For the next few minutes, Eboe explains that although the NBT is a supposed cure for...well travelled individuals; it is designed in such a manner and built in such a way which renders it intirely incompatible with atomic particle travel. Because atomic particle travel cannot support the clock required within the NBT for it to maintain it's biorythm.

A fact which I hadn't realised at time of stepping onto the hotplate, suddenly becomes quite clear:
Eboe is screwed.
Sorry...let me rephrase...WE are screwed.

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Again, we find ourselves dumbstruck. Where we appear, as luck would have it, to be delivered at the debugging facility, normally associated with the main entrance of the (just recently departed from) ******.

[Lithe_Joint]

Eboe is brilliantly bright and we catch all bystanders unawares. The whisperly quiet air errupts into shocked temporary blindness as Alpha Shutter Gate springs open.
Taking advantage we race past vision drunk guards, administrators and soon-to-be detainees.
I stumble over a guy and a couple of chairs and Eboe does the 80m obstacle course in 9seconds flat to the only open loadingbay door. We crash through and tumle off of the exterior platform, rolling like tree stumps to end up beneath, what seems to be, the clattering undercarriage of a moving vehicle.

The undercarriage is moving forward. We desperately claw at the structure for some leverage point by which we may tag along. My hands find the stator housing first and sizzles like a raw steak on a hot fire before I let go. Eboe gets a 40000 Volt strike from the exposed Electric Return terminals.

And in a moment, all becomes dark.

[Lithe_Joint]

So dark, in fact, that one could draw one's own picture by imagination alone...if that were possible. By any normal accounts we're screwed and it would not take a genius to realise that we are doubly screwed. To put icing on the cake, Eboe rolls a bit too far and his head meets the gyrowheel with a sickly crack.

[Lithe_Joint]

I have myself to blame for this sticky situation. Fact is- and for crying out loud- as I have pointed out before; I met this guy in a bar and I ignored words at that time which have morphed into prophecy, now!
If I could turn back time, I'd have kicked the bloke in the nuts for the hell of it, shoved a Jaggie or five down my gullet and tried my luck with that goose who seemed very blessed with the most desirable of attributes...
But nuhuh. Stupid is as stupid does.
In fact when I get to Home Affairs again, I do find a name change just to rid myself of this abhorition of unadulterated stupidity, quite attractive. Sorry, let's change that to IF i get to Home Affairs...

Eboe is bleeding from every orrifice I observe as the darkness fades to beamed torch lights streaking shaddows across his face.
Not pretty, and especially more un-pretty, I've noticed, considering he was born with-how shall I put this...a distinct mono-brow. Let's leave it at this: Only his mother loves him. I'm assured constantly that she resides quite happily in a place called Golden Age, just off the U4 highway to Jupiter, past one of those friggin' moons I can't pronounce.

Nut!

[Lithe_Joint]

What he does not realise (and maybe perhaps he does not WANT to realise) is the fact that back on planet earth, she is known a Mrs Poggenpoel, 69 Jupiter Close, Golden Retreat, Florida...famous for Home Baked Cakes and the like.

Did I say this...NUT!?

Anyway, relations and cooking skillls aside now, and, which I may add just for interest- I don't really care about domestic disputes- theirs has been going for quite some time.

Any Tomasina, Dickelina or Harriet would have killed him long ago..but then it is his mother, first name being Futura; not fiiting the profile. At all.

Futura Poggenpoel. It does have a nice ring to it.

[Lithe_Joint]

And so I ramble on, Eboe blleeeding . Not a TYPO., and after the very long time of roughly 120 seconds, I find myself and Mr. E cuffed to the ankles...wrists...captivity.

[Lithe_Joint]

You'd have thunk by the very same punks that got us in the first place, and that's what was edging through my mind until we got scuttled off into what seemed to be the most opposite of directions. Great!
Roughly minutes later, after being tossed to and fro between ravaged buildings, rotten gutters and the occasional rank alley, we stop as a gloved hand commands.
An elegant hand attached to a very slender arm which, in turn, seems connected to a backlit figure of female likeliness.
I surmise without a doubt that there will be appreciation for some witty humor and unfortunate yet entertaining circumstance, but a malicious gleam from one of the escorts puts halt to comedy in short order. I pocket the idea for now, being the sensitive sort who appreciates good timing principles.
We are unshackled as Eboe returns, to realise that this is just to move faster. Eboe splutters and sparks occasionally. The risk of detection still very real, we are rushed beyond the point of breathlessness into iced wilderness. Thorned shrubbery, weeds and trees claw at us asif attempting to grab us back, but the slender one drives the dog pack forward with an unspoken but relentless whip.

Helena

[Lithe_Joint]

So sorry...Hellenah.

She is the pedantic sort.

And I'm mesmerised, struck blind by a fantastic shape which I have not had the opportunity to appreciate in what appears to be days. Therefore pedantisism seems a moot point, better analyzed and argued by those who are not in my position, I reckon. I present Eboe with this bit of self enlightenment and he responds stonified which (come to think of it) is a brilliant mindfuck since he actually does find himself in my position!

Here I am thinking that I am the sorry bugger when in fact, I am just being selfish and pathetic.

[Lithe_Joint]

Did that actually go through? Amazing.

[Lithe_Joint]

Forgive me for being in a **** mood.

Its as ****, in fact, as having one last eyedrop but two red eyes...which eye is redder? The one that didn't get the drop. I've come to learn that self pity is over rated.

................................................................................................................................................................
Next Chapter. 3?
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I'm looking at this Bar Fly, slumped over and into the sticky bar counter. He seems distracted and not altogether here, if you get my drift. The perfect conversationalist then. And the perfect candidate.

I've been contemplating many a thing lately. Actually only one thing containing many things within, but many a thing it is. I hear bent music in the background which signals the return. The return of this damned infliction.

He has a fermented cactus juice affinity which comes second only to someone I knew at Memphis long ago. He listens with stupendous intent as I pour my heart out in a puddle of lies and careful deception. Some hours pass and I have the bloke hooked, line and sinker. Amazing. My journey begins again. Actually I make it sound so simple, don't I? It takes years of practice... f*cking YEARS of honing a specific attribute which can sway the thinking of others to your own advantage. It is a dearly learnt lesson and once you have the skill, you don't dare forever let go of the hardship faced before. This must be the most silent of infiltration methods and may I say, I think I've quite got the knack of it now!

................................................................................................................................................................

[Lithe_Joint]

A while ago, and I'd say not even as long as 5 years ago, you would find me puffing on the last drags of whatever my wallet could cough up. Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner standing asside for the all-essential next pack of smokes near the end...and eventually finding my next meal within the disgards of others.

Being penniless and wanting for an income of any sort besides prostituting myself, I was eventually driven to consulting with a nice enough chap employed at The New Rapid Delivery System, Inc. I was explained the bennefits, which are mostly financial, and the non-benefits which are mostly not. " If you do some quick sums, you can see that the cost of repair to your health is overshaddowed by the financial gain you will realise..."( presentation flashing by on the helio deck, graphs clouding my judgement). It was the catch moment for me.
I remember it like a snapshot of a desk- top taken then stored to memory and ready to paste into reality at any given point in life. My health factor was already up to ***** and besides, I could do with a wallet having some reconstructive surgery. Our contract was sealed. No tiny little voice warnings...and yet another snapshot assigned.

Who reads the fine print anyway? Certainly not the salesperson...they wrote it...and certainly not me...I can't.

[Lithe_Joint]

I'll wait.

And conjure.

[Lithe_Joint]

I will not be defeated by this thing. I will not surrender. I will take what I need and I will take what I want, as long as I can maintain a sense of normality.

After a prolonged farewell, we head off.

I am not a navigator and this I will freely admit, but when I (or for that matter anyone semi-intoxicated) takes matters into their own hands due to another's ineptness, there are bound to be disagreements...I can't bear it any longer and hand over the controls, kinowing very well that what faces me could be rather detrimental to the success of my current self-adjusted assignment.

Flaaaaaash

I attempt a stupor of confirmation tactics throughout the mindless oblivion, as a method of escapism

Flash-flash-flash

Bottomless Pit Personified

Flash-flash

Escape, but not so much

Flash

Nothing

Then

Helena.

[Lithe_Joint]

We met before.

[Lithe_Joint]

And under the most bizzare of circumstance, we meet again. She does very well not to indicate familiarity but this means I get the full-on impostor treatment.

Oh Joy! Snapshot!

.........................................................................................................................................................................................

Eboe and Helena seem to be knowing, yet I can't put my finger on it. I see their intimate eyes, but dismiss those as freakishly coincidental. Been there , done that, burned the T-Shirt. Fool.
.........................................................................................................................................................................................

[Lithe_Joint]

'Tis somewhat complicated to continue with something as nonsensical as this, yet I must gnash down on the bit of perseverance and continue forth with sublime ignorance, lest I leave another, incomplete.

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At certain interludes I drift away. Far away. To vistas of an azure ocean flanked by dunes and shady coconut palms; lazy hammocks accesssorised with tables holding tall refreshments at the ready.
This time my thoughts are foggerised by a vehicle, unmistakable for its sound. It moves through the dense undergrowth nearby and we navigate closer. I can't help feeling a planned EVAC culminating whan Helenah has a few silent words confirming security phrases. She signals ready and we rush hastily closer and into plain sight at which point I glance back to see her following and also to witness my minder's head explode like a watermelon. I am thrown off guard by a sudden surge of emotional and physical revulsion which I find harder to control as the image ricoches in my mind to the point where I cannot step forward.

Overwelmed, paralysed in fact, I tumble to the ground only aware of Eboe's blinding brilliance as shaddows dance around flying bullets, body parts, shrubbery and ultimately, silence.

[Sojourn]

Scanned this through, did the google, still don't see the point.
How is this diff from just typing up the first drivel that comes to mind?

[DeathPing]

Scanned this through, did the google, still don't see the point.
How is this diff from just typing up the first drivel that comes to mind?

I thought THAT was the point. I cannot write classy drivel like this...

@Lithe_Joint: Please carry on...

[UrBaN]

yea I'm sorry but I completely missed the point here too, unless the point is to write inane, non-sequitar crap.

Then again, maybe I'm just not cool like that, yo.

[Lithe_Joint]

Although I feel slightly ashamed to be wasting members' time and precious bandwidth...it is a thrilling path not be tied by the cuffs of conventionalism and relentless thought and unpredictable consequence inspires me, occasionally.

Thank you for the compliment, if it is meant as such, DeathPing. Much obliged.

[UrBaN]

No offense intended I suppose, Lithe, more a lack of understanding of the point, I think.

You have a grasp of the English language and a decent vocab to boot - why not use those to write a story - Fiction or non - and present it?

personally, I'd enjoy that more than this, as it would be more structured and sequitar.

[DeathPing]

Now you must have stomped Lithe_Joint's lit joint... dead! Joint crashers!!

[Lithe_Joint]

No offense intended I suppose, Lithe, more a lack of understanding of the point, I think.

You have a grasp of the English language and a decent vocab to boot - why not use those to write a story - Fiction or non - and present it?

personally, I'd enjoy that more than this, as it would be more structured and sequitar.

No offense taken.

However, after careful consideration, I feel that being "structured and sequitar" within this thread would certainly contradict the experiment.

Thank you for your insight and observations though. Perhaps at some point sanity will prevail.

[Lithe_Joint]

I've been pondering about certain events and associated misfortunes and have come to the conclusion that not all is a Rose Garden. Funny that.
Therefore, I'm considering an extended hiatus.
However, since it still seems to be under personal revue, I shall continue forthwith until I grow tired and bored; or the tale happens to lead to an inconsequencial farticle - which is not unimaginable at this point in time...or, in fact, until Innesfree beckons closer.

Time will tell.