Sunday, 29 August, 2004

Ind e-Pen XXXV

Filed under: Tagged — Pixel @ 4:20

The Ind e-Pen


Something I didn’t realize about school starting and summer ending: that my summer is going to end. Which means no more late nights watching movies, no more hanging out with my friends, no more not having responsibilities, no more… wait. I’m going back to college, not the Marines! Wow, what was I thinking? Summer over? Summer’s just begun (which is really confusing, seeing as it’s going to start getting cold in three to five months).

By the way, this e-mail is dedicated to the T-1 crowd at IUP. You guys got community of the year while I was there, let’s see if you can do a repeat without myself or the Mark fellow (speaking of which, I’m sure people would like to hear some of those stories. Anyone willing to share?).

Philosopher’s Stone

Thanks to all of the people that voted and suggested ideas. In the end, it was a tie between Sesame Street and the Men in Black, So I decided to go with the one I already had written. It’s what happens when only one fifth of the population votes, you know?
Hmm… I can’t help but wonder if I should make some sort of connection here.
Oh, yeah: everyone who’s going to school is now Back in school.
Good luck with that.

Back to School

That reminds me of this one time I decided to go to school in Pennsylvania. See, I decided relatively early on that I would rather drive an ungodly amount of time and have my car available throughout the semester than fly there and be left at the whim of public transportation. Of course, I made this decision before I actually drove there.
Ideally, I was supposed to have someone help me drive (I didn’t think this out to well. I suppose they’d take care of the pedals and I’d hold the wheel?), but as January drew near, more and more people chickened out and left me to die (thanks mom and dad!).
But when I realized that nobody would go with me, I decided to make the most of it (no, I didn’t drive naked, but now I wish I’d thought of it. It would have made the drive-thrus that much more interesting).

I made three CDs and copied the lyrics to a bunch of songs and poems that I wanted to memorize. Then, if I had any time, I figured, I’d listen to the radio a bit, make a few phone calls, and perhaps do some introspection. After all, if other people think I’m interesting, surely there is something that would entertain me for several hours? Besides, I could spend the time figuring myself out.

It turned out that I had nothing to say to myself. And 34 hours alone (21 of those were straight driving), is not a good recipe for being happy with oneself. In the end, I started hating myself and going crazy (yeah, the CD/memorizing/listening/calling people ideas went awry after about two states).

I got to the point where I started talking as much as I could just to drown myself out (my logic went out in Missouri… along with my sense of direction, which is why I ended up going through Kentucky for some reason).

At the end of the trip, I had gone to hell and back enough times that I didn’t resemble myself anymore. It’s probably for the best though. I mean, who would really want to resemble someone who would willingly lock himself in a Honda for a day and a half?
Needless to say, except for the impromptu trip to Texas and back (28 hours to, about 36 back), and the hella-long trip home, I never ever did that again. And I don’t plan to, either.
Well, maybe if I have nothing to do in school…

A Small Quiz:

1: Do you think T-1 is going to win community of the year two years in a row?

2: Are you more likely to buy something if a cute youngster is selling it?
What about if a cute member of the opposite sex is selling it?

3: If I went to and fro four times, and each time changed me irreversibly from who I was before, does that mean that I’m back to where I was, or am I some sort of third thing?

Saturday, 21 August, 2004

Ind e-Pen XXXIV (part 2)

Filed under: Tagged — Pixel @ 14:40

The Ind e-Pen




Sorry about the two part thing. The computer wouldn’t let me send more than one megabyte in stuff. Anyway, here’s the rest:

(Lights dim, when the lights turn on again, Pixel is with Freud yet again.)

Freud: We have been having these daily talks for just about four years now, correct?

Pixel: Actually, we’ve had fortnightly talks for four months. And that’s only like six sessions.

Freud: Really? Well… um… the time just…. flew by, did it not?

Pixel: Oh, Yeah. We had a blast!

Freud: Yes. A blast…

Pixel: Ah… memories. Like, remember that one time we were trying to prevent me from not being born by getting my parents to go out (after I had inadvertently gotten my mom to fall in love with me and thus prevented my parents from even meeting)?

Freud: That never happened! That was the plot to the hit 1985 movie Back to the Future!

Pixel: Oh, Doc, you and your crazy inventions!

Freud: Oh, never mind… Hey, I have an excellent idea! Why don’t you lay down facing somewhere else and not look in my general direction for the rest of the hour?

Pixel: Ooh, why? Is this some sort of new psycho-mological test that you want to try?

Freud: Okay. Sure, of course it is. Why not?

Pixel: Okay… what do I have to do then?

Freud: Just talk. Keep yourself busy, pretend, as hard as you can, that I’m not even here…

(Lights focus on Pixel. Freud exits, taking his bag lunch with him)

Pixel: Oh, okay. I have a monologue? Wow. Nobody’s ever trusted me with a monologue before. Thanks Doc. I mean, I’ve done a few soliloquies before, but the director of this (beep)damn play always cuts them short before any of the audience gets to hear my wit.

Not that I think there’s an audience or anything, I mean, I don’t want to sound crazy, like I’m hearing voices or whatever. No, I know that nobody’s actually seeing me, because I know that nobody actually goes to see plays. If you people in the audience agree with me, you should clap.
That was odd.

Umm… Mee mee mee mee mo?

So, anyway…. school’s about to end and there’s all of this pressure from all of my classes. Everyone is all like, “for the last time, you’re not even registered in this class!”

And they keep leaving me out of group discussions and telling me that the papers I turn in are inappropriate, off topic, and inferior. As if they could judge that better than I could… Oh, well. Maybe I should quit turning in the same paper and write something new? But it’s so difficult to think of something that applies to every class I’m in

Also, I had that dream again. The finals-time dream where you dream that there was a class that you forgot to show up to all semester and now you have to cram for the final? Perhaps you’ve had that too, Doc?

Wait, Doc, what school did you go to? Did you even go to school? Doc, are you there? Doc…. wow, I must be pretending really well, I don’t see him or his lunch anywhere! Oh, this guy’s good.

(Lights dim, when the lights turn on again, Pixel is sitting with Lithium, for the last time.)

Pixel: Some day we will live in a nation where there won’t be any difference between the whites, and the coloreds, and the delicates…

Lithium: Wait, are you talking about laundry?

Pixel: Wow, I didn’t expect to see you in this again today, how’ve you been?

Lithium: I’m in town for my grandmother’s funeral, but right now I’m just going to college, just hanging around and such.

Pixel: Why don’t you come around more often?

Lithium: I’m not sure, perhaps I will.

Pixel: Wanna hear my new joke?

Lithium: A new joke? I don’t remember the old ones.

Pixel: Hey, is the day over? It is for your grandmother! Hahaha!

Lithium: Now I remember…

Pixel: Hahaha! See, it’s funny because she’s dead and no one else makes fun of her for it! Hahaha!

Lithium Yeah… So, what were you saying about laundry?

Pixel: Have you ever wondered about the whole failure to describe a race by colors?

Lithium: You mean like White, Black, Red, Yellow?

Pixel: Yeah, like Asians came to America and became Indians… can Yellow just switch to Red?

Lithium: I’m sure people are going to think that’s racist…

Pixel: And when the White Europeans mixed with the Red Indians, why didn’t they have Pink Mestizos? Why Brown?

Lithium: You realize you can only say that because you’re not white.

Pixel: Yeah… I know, but don’t these colors seem odd to you?

Lithium: I’m sure they seemed even odder to the people that were categorized as them.

Pixel: Like the Native Americans?

Lithium: Actually, I think they’re back to being American Indians.

Pixel: Really? How’d they get them all to agree to that?

Lithium: That’s the point: they didn’t. Nobody asked them. That’s the problem with the system.

Pixel: And I hear that Texas eliminated all of the Indian Casinos in the state.

Lithium: Can they do that?

Pixel They can do whatever they want as long as the people don’t realize what’s going on and protest.

Lithium: Oh, Americans are lazy, unorganized, and uncooperative.

Pixel Aren’t you American?

Lithium Aren’t you going to shut up? No, I was saying: We complain about politicians, but we don’t vote. We complain about gas prices, then buy a gas-guzzling SUV to drive to work in. We complain about traffic, but nobody carpools. It’s annoying. And I think I know why people’s cars get worse and worse mileage as time goes on.

Pixel: Isn’t it putting cheap gas in the tank?

Lithium: Yes, what they don’t tell you, though, is that mixing gasses of different quantities has the effect of dulling it.

Pixel: Like Lava Lamps, right?

Lithium: Yes, eventually they mix, while milk eventually dilutes.

Pixel: So you’re saying that if a person were to keep going to the same station then all of this would be averted?

Lithium: Or, they could wait until the car ran completely out of gasoline…

Pixel Don’t they tell you to not do that?

Lithium They being the very people that would benefit if you had to buy a new car…

Pixel Massive conspiracy?

Lithium Is there ever any other kind?

Pixel Like Shakespeare.

Lithium You don’t like Shakespeare?

Pixel Does anybody? I mean really? It’s difficult to understand, its out of date, and yet it’s still so popular…

Lithium Because the stories are of humanity. They transcend the ages.

Pixel: “Layeth the Smacketh Downeth.”

Lithium: Why do you always wait until we’re out in front of the audience before you say things that I can’t understand?

Pixel: I come to you seeking counsel. You should be proud.

Lithium: Yeah, I hear that a lot from you… why? And what do you mean by “Layeth the Smacketh Downeth?”

Pixel: I was thinking that Shakespearen English is simpler than we think.

Lithium: You mean Renaissance English? What do you think it is?

Pixel: Well, I think it’s some sort of Medieval Lisp.

Lithium: Lispeth?

Pixel: Aye, a Lisp. Soeth, ifeth youeth justeth addeth eth toeth everythingeth, youeth geteth Oldeth Englisheth.

Lithium: I didn’t understand a word of that.

Pixel: But it sounded Shakespearean didn’t it?

Lithium: No.

Pixel: … Ohh ‘kay….

Lithium Sorry, I didn’t mean to disagree with you. I just didn’t know where you were going with that.

Pixel: Yeah, but you never quite know where a person is going to end up…

Lithium: Like what do you have in mind?

Pixel: I was just thinking about something I heard today… that a councilor saw Wade–

Lithium: Cowboy guy?

Pixel: Yeah, anyway, she saw him on the news posing for an S&M Shot.

Lithium: Which one? Sam or Max?

Pixel: That’s what I thought too, but then she laughed at me… I don’t think it’s either.

Lithium It’s okay, she’s short anyway.

Pixel What does that have to do with anything?

Lithium: It’s just that while you were talking I noticed how tall you were and… well… it’s just that height variations are annoying things in nature.

Pixel: Yeah, our cheerleaders are all different heights…. what’s up with that?

Lithium: Well, it all started quite some time ago, back during the Cold World War.

Pixel: Aah, the Cold World War… was that the one with the Russians and the Soviets fighting as one?

Lithium: Yes. They made up height variations to scare people. The United States didn’t know what to do.

Pixel As well they wouldn’t. You don’t expect to fight people whose uniforms don’t fit right.

Lithium Exactly. You know, I finally finished reading an encyclopedia?

Pixel Did you?

Lithium Yeah. The only problem is that it’s a 1988 one

Pixel So you’re still in the Cold World War?

Lithium Yup.

Pixel: I’ll keep that in mind. So, how about this internet, eh?

Lithium: This what?

Pixel: This internet.

Lithium: Oh, sorry. I thought you said this Pigmy Marmoset.

Pixel: No problem. I thought you said Cumquat.

Lithium: Why’d you think that?

Pixel: No reason (Pixel’s cell phone rings. Low at first, then it gets louder until everyone except for Pixel is staring at it. It should look like it wasn’t intentional. As soon as the cell phone stops ringing, Pixel checks to see who called)

Lithium: I was thinking, you know how cell phones just popped out of nowhere one year?

Pixel: Yeah, that was an interesting year. I wonder why they popped out all of a sudden?

Lithium: I was thinking that perhaps they’re set up so that years later they could control us with mere signals and wrong numbers–

Pixel: What’s the difference between Pea Soup and Roast Beef?

Lithium: –and then jack up the price to get rich too.

Pixel: Anyone can Roast Beef.

Lithium: Are you listening to me?

Pixel: No, I was just noticing that I got a call from Letter Three.

Lithium It’s too late, you’re under their spell… So, how is Rachele?

Pixel: Don’t say her name! Use her code name!

Lithium: You mean Rochellie?

Pixel: Yeah. Anyway, you know what’s crazy about her? She lives on Golden Eagle and right after her house the road closes. (It’s probably for the best if “915 346 4972″ appears somewhere during this conversation)

Lithium: Closes? What is it? Broken?

Pixel: That’s what I thought, but then I realized that it was right after Rochellie’s house. Coincidence? I think not.

Lithium It seems like a coincidence to me. I mean, what if the construction workers didn’t want to make it longer because there are no houses after hers?

Pixel Meh. That’s just an excuse.

Lithium: And just what is the difference between an excuse and a reason?

Pixel: A reason is a justification… an excuse is given afterwards…. wait… I don’t know, tell me.

Lithium: Imagine, for instance, that you’re going to start a rival play “Because you guys have a monopoly.”

Pixel: That’s definitely an excuse, anyone who believes it should be shot.

Lithium: Precisely. Whereas a counter play is justified by a reason. We were forced to do this. Instead of doing it because we were angry.

Pixel Is there any reason you bring this up?

Lithium Not really. Well, okay. Yeah, I’m going away now.

Pixel You mean for good?

Lithium: Yeah…

Pixel What for?

Lithium Well, you know how I’ve been doing my pre-practice practice?

Pixel Like when you cleared up that guy’s soar throat by cutting it open and pouring bleach in it?

Lithium He never actually let me do it, you know… Anyway, I have to go study to start my regular practice now.

Pixel: And since I’m the focus of this play…

Lithium: You could write me asking for ideas.

Pixel: Yeah… but I think it’d be safer to do what Ebert did.

Lithium: It won’t be the same.

Pixel: You’re telling me… but it’s worth a shot.

Lithium: So…

(Lights dim, Lithium fades away, when the lights turn on again, Pixel is with Socrates, yet again.)

Pixel: Mr. Socrates, sir?

Socrates: Yes Queer-boy?

Pixel: I have a question for you. In your dialogues, you never make a reference to the afterlife as religious proof. Does this mean that you’re atheist?

Socrates: In your conversations you never make a reference to explosive diarrhea, does that mean I should watch my feet?

Pixel: First of all, I make constant references to explosive diarrhea. And second, yes.

Socrates: Eew.

Pixel: So, anyway, how was your summer?

Socrates: It was alright. I filmed a mockumentary for VH1, I was an extra in the movie “Gigli.” Oh, and I was sentenced to death for corrupting the youth of Athens…

Pixel: I thought that “Gigli” had been filmed in 2002.

Socrates: Actually I wasn’t an extra so much as the guy who yelled “You Suck!” during the credits. You should hear it.

Pixel: Yeah, but then I’d have to stay through the whole movie…

Socrates: Yeah… The film editor said that nobody was actually going to see the movie. He put the movie on Kazaa on a T3 connection, but instead of people downloading it, they sent him hate mail.

Pixel: Seriously now? And what was the mockumentary about?

Socrates: Your life.

Pixel: My Life??

Socrates: Yeah. I play the young you.

Pixel: But you have a two foot beard! You’re 70 years old!

Socrates: The director said that nobody would notice.

Pixel: If you’re the young me, who’s the old me?

Socrates: Well, the teenage version of you was played by Hush Puppy from Lamb Chop’s Play Along, and the adult yous were the Olsen Twins.

Pixel Whaa–? (lights shimmer)

Socrates: Wow, how’d you do that? That was cool.

Pixel: I’m not sure, I’m just a character in a play, it’s not like this is really happening.

Socrates: A character in a play? What are you talking about? You’re as real as me and Johnny Depp!

Pixel: Now, when you say Johnny Depp, are you thinking of the Jack Sparrow Johnny Depp or of the Edward Scissorhands Johnny Depp?

Socrates: I was thinking more along the lines of Nightmare on Elm Street and Sleepy Hollow.

Pixel: I don’t know, I didn’t really like him in Sleepy Hollow. And Christina Ricci just keeps looking worse and worse in every movie.

Socrates: Yeah, I’m just glad that I never have to see her again.

Pixel: How do you mean?

Socrates: I’m just never going to go see any of her movies… Because during the summer I WAS SENTENCED TO DEATH!!!

Pixel: Jeesh. Bitter much? Calm down. It’s not like it’s life or death or anything… I swear, some people’s children…

Socrates: What was that?

Pixel: I said you’re suffering from Grumpy Pulse Syndrome.

Socrates: Oh.

Pixel: So why were you sentenced to die?

Socrates: Oh, because I corrupted the youth, walked out on my civic duty, flashed the king, and acted treasonous. Plus, the man is out to get me.

Pixel: Doesn’t that bite? Like last week when I got pulled over because I was going ten miles over the speed limit… What’s up with that??

Socrates: I don’t think that you can compare the two…

Pixel: Sure I can. By the way, have you seen Alien vs. Predator?

Socrates: You have trouble sticking to one subject, don’t you?

Pixel: How do you mean?

Socrates: It’s just that most of these conversations only make sense if you look at them as collections of random thoughts.

Pixel: Except for Freud.

Socrates: Screw Freud.

Pixel: It’s a good fight, but the Aliens win in the end.

Socrates: Oh, gee. Thanks… for ruining the movie for me.

Pixel: You’re welcome. Unless you’re being sarcastic, in which case, let Freud screw you.

Socrates: I don’t think either of us has the time, the patience, or the gross inhumanity for that.

Pixel: Yeah, I probably don’t, but you’re Greek.

Socrates: And what exactly does that have to do with anything?

Pixel: Did you know that Amazon women used to remove their right breast to handle bows better?

Socrates: First of all, what?? Second, the Amazons were a myth. And third, your mom was an Amazon.

Pixel: Primus, Secundus, Teritus.

Socrates: What?

Pixel: You should get your hearing checked. I was merely saying I, II, and III in Latin.

Socrates: Wait.. What’s Latin?

Pixel: You know, for a Greek guy, you’re horribly under cultured…

Socrates: I hate you.

Pixel: Join the club. We meet in Village Inn on Fridays from 2 to 4 .

Socrates: There’s a club that hates you? And you’re in it?

Pixel: Oh, yeah. I’m the secretary.

Socrates What?? Don’t they realize that you’re the reason they have a club?

Pixel Yeah, I don’t think they like me very much. I guess I’m just not good at keeping track of money…

Socrates: I thought you said that you were the secretary.

Pixel: Nah, former New Mexican candidate for governor Tony Sanchez is the secretary.

Socrates: You know, he can sue you for slander for that…

Pixel: Nah, me and him are tight: we exchanged brownie recipes. Besides, I’m taking Gingerbread men to the next meeting.

Socrates: Gingerbread men? That’s the gayest thing I’ve ever heard.

Pixel: Then you obviously haven’t heard Tony Sanchez’s brownie recipe. Oh, man… if there were such a thing as a flaming brownie, his would be it.

Socrates: Okay, he can definitely sue you for slander for that.

Pixel: If he did, it would only be because he wanted to impress me. He has the hots for me, you know?

Socrates: He’s gay?

Pixel: Nope, he just thinks that I’m a butch girl named Rowena.

Socrates: I can’t believe that you disguised yourself in order to join a club of people that hate you.

Pixel: That’s the thing, I didn’t. He’s just so hard of hearing that when I introduced myself, he thought that I’d said “Rowena.” Then he went off on how beautiful of a name it was, so I couldn’t just correct him. Besides… I like getting flowers every once in a while…

Socrates: I can already feel my migraines coming back… can we please talk about something else?

Pixel: Like the perceptual inequalities in the grand unified theory when applied to thermodynamics and the Wernicke’s area’s processes?

Socrates: You enjoy making these conversations the longest hours of my life, don’t you?

Pixel: They really seem unequal.

Socrates: So how’s the semester going?

Pixel: Great! I finally found out what smelled so bad everywhere I went on campus. It turns out that someone had put a skunk in my backpack last year. I just found it today.

Socrates: (guffaws for a full thirty seconds) Sorry, I’d forgotten all about that.

Pixel: Oh… I see. It’s okay. You should see how I’m going to pay you back for that…

Socrates: How? You’ve already gotten me birthday and Christmas presents. I know, I checked.

Pixel: I thought you’d like monogrammed pencils…

Socrates: They say “suck.”

Pixel: I meant them to say “Sock”

Socrates: Ignoring the gross personal affront of calling me Sock, what were you going to do with the underwear that says “Pixel + Socrates = Loving” on the crotch?

Pixel: That was a typo.

Socrates: A Typo?? What did you mean for them to say?

Pixel: Socrates times Pixel minus Loving

Socrates: What’s that supposed to mean?

Pixel: It makes sense if you take into account that I put it on the crotch.

Socrates: And yet you claim to be straight.

Pixel: Like a Slinky.

Socrates: You know, in my day, I had a wife and three kids and I still had to tell all the young men that I wasn’t gay.

Pixel: I bet you had to beat off all the boys with a stick.

Socrates: I was working to prove that I wasn’t gay.

Pixel: So you say you’re not gay? That’s funny, because we think you are…

Socrates: Who’s we?

Pixel: Oh, there’s people… believe me… there are people…

Socrates: Who are you kidding, you don’t know any real people.

Pixel: … and they’re all like, “is he, or isn’t he?”… and I tell them, “I don’t know, but his togas are awfully revealing…”

Socrates: I haven’t worn a toga since August… and that was only because you talked me into it!!

Pixel: I said, “I just went with him so that people wouldn’t think he was crazy… It’s bad enough he died 3,000 years ago, I wouldn’t want people to think he was weird…

Socrates: Your toga was made out of Mickey Mouse bed sheets!!

Pixel: “But I’m not always going to be there for him… someday he’s going to do something embarrassing and gay and I won’t be there to stop it…”

Socrates: Why do I always feel like I’m the only sane person in an insane asylum when I’m with you?

Pixel: Probably because you’re insane. So, what are you going to be for Halloween?

Socrates: An old Greek philosopher named Socrates.

Pixel: Who are you kidding? You couldn’t pull that off.

Socrates: I don’t feel like dressing up. It’s not worth the effort.

Pixel: You’re not worth the effort.

Socrates: Listen. You can’t keep zoning out on me and then getting offended when you realize I’m finished talking.

Pixel: .. No, you’re finished talking!

Socrates: So… Anyway, I’m guessing that you are going to dress up?

Pixel: Like a wolf in a sheep ball!

Socrates: Like a what??

Pixel: Sorry, it was a slip of the tong, I meant cheap.

Socrates: So you’re going to go as a wolf?

Pixel: What? What are you talking about? It was just another way of saying “yes.” No, I’m going like an undercover cow in a rancher’s barbeque!

Socrates: What??

Pixel: Sorry, I haven’t had lunch yet.

Socrates: So you’re going to dress up as a cow?

Pixel: Huh? What are you talking about? I was just saying “sure” again. Dressing as a cow. yeah, like that wouldn’t be an udder failure!

Socrates: That was horrible.

Pixel: Not as bad as your mom was last night!

Socrates: You’ve never met my mother. And even if you had, she wouldn’t even talk to you. She has a thing against gay people.

Pixel: I take it that you don’t talk to her much?

Socrates: Yeah, well, anyway, you never said what you were going to dress up as.

Pixel: Well, I don’t have an idea, per se, but I did buy a cool-looking trench coat at Hot Topic that I want to wear.

Socrates: So let’s see if I’ve got this straight–

Pixel: –you can’t get anything straight–

Socrates: –you’re just going to wear new clothes instead of actually trying to dress as something in particular.

Pixel: Oh, no, I’ll dress up as something in particular. Something so original that no one has ever seen it before…

Socrates: Because you made it up to suit what you would have worn anyway?

Pixel: Basically

Socrates: What happens when Halloween passes and you begin wearing your outfit regularly?

Pixel: Same thing that happened when I dressed up as a cow last year.

Socrates: Wait. You actually dressed up as a cow?

Pixel: Seriously, no bull.

Socrates: What happened then?

Pixel: What do you mean, when?

Socrates: When you started dressing like a cow!

Pixel: Are you feeling okay?

Socrates: Quiet you.

Pixel: Quiet who?

Socrates: Just… shut up.

Pixel: You can’t tell me that! You’re not my gynecologist!

Socrates: You don’t have a gynecologist!

Pixel: Yeah, I know…. but it’s not for lack of trying.

Socrates: Gynecologists are for women.

Pixel: You know, I never knew you were so closed-minded.

Socrates: I’m not! I really am not. I do pay attention and listen… when I’m talking to sane and intelligent people!

Pixel: Ooh, do I detect some conflict? Who is it that you don’t consider sane and intellije… integli…. eentell… smart?

Socrates: You!

Pixel: Oh. First you blast my halloween outfit… then you accidentally let out that you might possibly think that maybe I’m not as cute, funny, and smart as you once thought I was…

Socrates: Oh. First you steal me from my time, then you constantly berate and undermine me, then you exasperate me beyond the point of all human tolerance–

Pixel: –that’s not true! My future self put up with me for twice as long as you have!

Socrates: –actually, the rest of the week you were talking to the mirror. I just didn’t have the heart to tell you.

Pixel: He did get pretty repetitive after a while… I just thought he was adamant about his games of “Shadow…” And I should have known when he claimed he knew how to play the piccolo…

Socrates: Besides, before he left he put a bomb in your car and cut the brakes.

Pixel: Nah, why would anyone do that? Let alone to themselves…

Socrates: I don’t know. All I know is that he accidentally cut the main wire to the bomb.

Pixel: How do you know that?

Socrates: Oh, I started learning how to make bombs after our third conversation.

Pixel: Oh, okay. Wait, wasn’t that the one where you kept muttering about how hot I was?

Socrates: I don’t think I ever said that. You probably misheard me.

Pixel: Oh, I don’t see how that’s possible: icky old man falling in love with me makes much more sense than my ears not working right.

Socrates: You conceited ass…

Pixel: I didn’t think you’d notice. I have been working out, thank you.

Socrates: Grr…. I’d better get that Anarchist’s Cookbook out again…

Pixel: Are you going to make me dinner?

Socrates: Sure. A very special… cyanine dinner.

Pixel: Oh, I’m allergic to cyanine, can you make it arsenic instead?

Socrates: You know, sometimes I don’t know if you’re stupid posing as intelligent or smart pretending to be a stupid poser…

Pixel: Oh, I wish. One of these days I hope to be good enough to pretend to be a poser.

Socrates: And one of these days I hope to keep a straight face long enough to let you try.

Pixel: That reminds me of a joke…

Socrates: Everything reminds you of a joke!

Pixel: Yeah. just like that time…

Socrates: You’re not going to finish that one either, are you?

Pixel: You know what you’re problem is? You skipped senile old man and went straight to crotchety.

Socrates: And because of you I’ll be skipping steps all the way to the grave.

Pixel: Actually, that’s not quite true. From what I understand, you’re going to die from some sort of Heimlich maneuver.

Socrates: What’s the Heimlich maneuver?

Pixel: Here, let me show you.

Socrates: Good God no!

Pixel: You don’t want me holding you from behind while pushing forcefully on your chest to dislodge anything that may be stuck in your throat?

Socrates: You don’t pick up many girls, do you?

Pixel: Are you hitting on me?

Socrates: Never.

Pixel: Hmm…

Socrates: Okay, I’m going to go now.

Pixel: Hmm!…

Socrates: Fine… what?

Pixel: I noticed that when I offered to give you the Hemlock, you said (and I quote) “Hell No!”

Socrates: No, I didn’t! It was twenty seconds ago, how could you already forget? What I said was “Oh God, Nay!”

Pixel: Well, see, that’s the thing: weren’t the Greeks pamphleistic?

Socrates: We had a lot of pamphlets?

Pixel: No, I mean, didn’t you worship a lot of DDTs?

Socrates: We worshiped insect repellant?

Pixel: Was he your main God?

Socrates: Huh? No! If you had done any amount of research on me, you would know that I was never a religious guy.

Pixel: Didn’t you say that you were in the Apology?

Socrates: Yeah, probably. I said a lot of stuff. If I had known that Plato was taking dictation, I would have thought before I talked. Or at least left out the analogy of philosophy to getting a hysterectomy.

Pixel: I know exactly what you mean. Like this one time, I accidentally put a tape recorder in your mom’s bathroom. I cried for weeks!

Socrates: I think I’ve figured out why none of your friends invite you to their homes.

Pixel: Really? Why? I’ve always thought that it was because nobody wanted me to accidentally break their windows or bathroom doors again.

Socrates: That could contribute to it too. Anyway, I wanted to ask you one last thing before I went away forever.

Pixel: Sure. I’ll let you write a small biography on me for a 25% cut.

Socrates: You know, no matter how many times you repeat that, nobody is going to accept.

Pixel: Wait a goobenswab! You never said you were going away forever. What happened? You don’t have a crush on me anymore?

Socrates: You know, Freud would call that a projection. I just can’t continue having meaningless conversations with you… I’d rather drink hemlock and die. Besides, the play’s going to end soon.

Pixel: They’re not meaningless, it’s interesting philosophy…

Socrates: Same difference.

Pixel: Yeah, I guess you really have overstayed your welcome. Oh, well. So what did you want to say?

Socrates: I just wanted to thank you for easing my mind. I thought that I had missed something. Bill and Ted made the future seem so cool last time.

Pixel: You’re welcome. I told you that I was awesome.

Socrates: Yeah… And I was going to ask you one last philosophical question before I left and you had to destroy this stage.

Pixel: (yeah, like I’d do that).

Socrates: What would you say that courage is?

Pixel: Well… just off the top of my head, I’d have to say “n. ability to conquer fear or despair.”

Socrates: How does that make any sense?

Pixel: How doesn’t it?

Socrates: Is it that you’re stupid, ignorant, and dumb, or is your answer wrong?

Pixel: Umm… yes.

Socrates: See, I could continue berating you and proving that you don’t know what you’re talking about, but you seem to do that just fine by yourself.

Pixel: I don’t get it. That’s a horrible definition for courage.

Socrates: Okay, I’m going to go now…

Pixel: Well, old weird guy, do stop by again some time, neh?

Socrates: No! What’s wrong with you??? Just… goodbye! (Socrates exits)

Pixel: Well, that’s funny… I’m his ride home. Hmm… Oh, well. I guess he really didn’t want to hear about my gerbils hoarding nuts point. I mean, all I was going to say was that the meaning of life is…

(Lights dim, when the lights turn on again, Pixel is sitting with Freud for the last time.)

Freud: Well, Mr. Styx, I have–

Pixel: That’s actually Professor Styx.

Freud: Really? What do you teach?

Pixel: What do you mean?

Freud: Well, generally, the title of ‘professor’ is reserved for those who teach, usually at the university level.

Pixel: What? Are you sure? Isn’t that just the Spanish phrase for “one who is awesome?”

Freud: Don’t you speak Spanish?

Pixel: Not all the time.

Freud: I am fairly certain that I am right. In any case, I still have to tell you my diagnosis of you.

Pixel: ‘Diagnosis,’ eh? ‘Professor,’ eh? ‘Of,’ eh? Do you have a dictionary that I can borrow?

Freud: Yes, I think I do. But do you not care what I have to say? (Freud brings out a dictionary, Pixel peruses it)

Pixel: Oh, I care, I care. So, what were you saying about your toupee?

Freud: I said no such thing! I was just mentioning how you might have a deficit in your attention span.

Pixel: Yeah, I do think we should go ride bikes.

Freud: Also, you seem to have the delusional belief that you are grand.

Pixel: Okay, you ride your bike, I’ll follow you in the Benz.

Freud: Also, I think you might have a form of erotomania. A rare disorder in which–

Pixel: I know what erotomania is!

Freud: Do you, really?

Pixel: Yes. And no, Doctor Freud, I will not sleep with you! … at least not right now

Freud: Boy, am I glad I never replaced the tapes on the tape recorder.

Pixel: Wait. What does that mean? You didn’t have tape recorders in your time, did you? Does that mean that you’re in my present?

Freud: Does it matter?

Pixel: It does now that you brought up tape recorders.

Freud: Oh. Um. I mean, what tape recorders? What’s a tape recorder?

Pixel: Oh, no. You’re not going to pull that one off again. You’re not my orthodontist!

Freud: Alright. I take it you are not happy with my diagnosis.

Pixel: What diagnosis? Why are you hitting on me?

Freud: See, now that is what Socrates would call projection.

Pixel: A-ha! I found ‘professor’ in your dictionary! “One who is awesome.”

Freud: Let me see that. (It really is there) Huh. That doesn’t seem right…

Pixel: Well, I guess that’s how it is when you’re wrong. By the way, here’s your X-acto knife and tape. (hands him an x-acto knife and tape)

Freud: Wait. My what?

Pixel: Oh, my, look at the time. I have to go, I’ll see you later, Doc! (Stands up, brushing dictionary bits of paper off himself)

Freud: Wait, did you cut up my dictionary? This was a first edition!

Pixel: Hmm… I see… and how long have you had this anger problem?

Freud: I have no anger problem!

Pixel: Oh, that’s just because you’re in love with your mother. Next!

(Lights dim, Freud exits, when the lights turn on again, Pixel is wearing a baseball cap backwards, with kid clothing, and is operating a lemonade stand. Young Freud enters, dressed in much the same way.)

Young Pixel: Hello there, would you like to buy some lemonade? It’s only fifty schillings!

Young Freud: Sure. Lemonade sounds like it could hit the spot. But I am one schilling short, do you believe that you might be able to help me out with the change? It might make us life-long buddies and build a camaraderie that you would eventually describe as priceless.

Young Pixel: Hmm… what was your name again?

Young Freud: Sigismund Schlomo Freud

Young Pixel: Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha.

Young Freud: It is a proud name. My two older half-brothers like it…, what’s yours?

Young Pixel: Young Pixel.

Young Freud: Wait, don’t you just mean “Pixel?”

Young Pixel: Not if I want to sell a lot of friggin’ lemonade, I don’t.

Young Freud: I see… So, can you please lend me those two cents?

Young Pixel: Excuse me? Um… Well, about that… I’ll only give you the money if you do a few things for me.

Young Freud: Okay, like what?

Young Pixel: Well, how about if you admit that you hate your parents on tape.

Young Freud: But I love them!

Young Pixel: Okay, just your dad then. But you have to say that you loooove your mom.

Young Freud: Okay, I hate my dad and love my mom.

Young Pixel: And, um, you’re scared that your dad is going to castrate you.

Young Freud: I am?

Young Pixel: Yes, very much so.

Young Freud: But I’m really not…

Young Pixel: Oh, that’s only a third of you. There’s probably another part of you that wants to just give me the 48 cents and walk away, too.

Young Freud: You know, this is the kind of childhood memory that would traumatize me.

Young Pixel: Which is why you should repress it. In fact, forget I ever existed. If you don’t, you might end up bad… you should see what I did to Machiavelli.

Young Freud: You just don’t want to give me two cents, do you?

Young Pixel: Oh, you’re a sharp one, you must be caught in the anal stage.

Young Freud: The what?

Young Pixel: I’m sorry, did I say something?

Young Freud: Okay, okay, I’ll do without the lemonade. Keep it. Yikes. You’ve got more problems than anyone I’ve ever met. (Freud exits)

Young Pixel: That’s funny. That’s the same thing the first guy who owned this stand said…

(Enter Albus Dumbledore, dressed in ’80s punk, possibly with a mullet)

Young Pixel: Hello there, sir, would you like some purple lemonade? It’s only one Silver Sickle per cubic ounce!

Young Albus Dumbledore: Purple Lemonade? That seems eerily cheap. What’s the fishizzle?

Young Pixel: I accidentally killed a dragon, and decided to make a load of galleons by selling it piece by piece.

Young Dumbledore: How does that make anything cheaper? And how did you accidentally kill a dragon?

Young Pixel: It drank some bad lemonade… possibly from another lemonade stand.

Young Dumbledore: In that case, give me three cups.

Young Pixel: That would be… um… twelve sickles.

Young Dumbledore: Twelve? I have a wristwatch and a pair of socks, if you’d like to barter. (he puts them on the counter. Why he is carrying extra socks, we’ll never know)

Young Pixel: Sorry, but if I don’t make this money, I’m going to have to file for Chapter 13.

Young Dumbledore: “Personal Bankruptcy with regular income and limited debt allowing a payment plan of 3-5 years?”

Young Pixel: Yeah, why?

Young Dumbledore: You obviously don’t have regular income and… how old are you anyway, Patty?

Young Pixel: Um, my name’s not Patty. I’m a young boy, ages 8 to 12. How old are you?

Young Dumbledore: About 132.

Young Pixel: What?? Really? If that’s how old you are in a flashback, how old are you in the future??

Young Dumbledore: Oh, you know, Patty, you know…

Young Pixel: I’M NOT PATTY!!

Dumbledore: That’s just what Young Tom Riddle said when I first met her.

Young Pixel: Oh, I hate riddles… is it a duck?

Dumbledore: No, no, no… Okay yes. But he’s also Prince Voldemort.

Young Pixel: Prince?

Dumbledore: Yep, called himself a lord of some sort for a while. Since he vanished a few Halloweens ago, I just call him Prince again.

Young Pixel: No, no, Prince just turned himself into a symbol, whether he’s bad enough to vanish another story…

Dumbledore: Hmm… you’re not a wizard, are you, Patty?

Young Pixel: No, I’m a level two rogue, they don’t let me have wizards anymore…

Dumbledore: Never mind… (Dumbledore walks off, leaving the socks and wristwatch on the counter)

(Enter Young Lithium, not much is changed from earlier)

Young Pixel: Hey would you like to buy a glass of lemonade? It’s lemonalicious!

Young Lithium: No, thanks, but would you like to buy a glass of lemonade from me?

Young Pixel: What? You have a lemonade stand too?

Young Lithium: Yup. And I see you’re charging 50 cents for yours. Mine is only 49 cents!

Young Pixel: What?? You must be losing money with that!

Young Lithium: Nope. I’ve got a sponsor.

Young Pixel: A sponsor? Who?

Young Lithium: The nice people from the Little Store. They give me all of my sugar, bottled water, glasses, and ice for free.

Young Pixel: What?? They told me that they’d sold them all to pay their debts to the mob!

Young Lithium: Ha ha ha! Yeah, they told me about that…

Young Pixel: Yeah, well, whatever, my lemons are still better than yours.

Young Lithium: Really? They seem pretty bruised and of sub par quality.

Young Pixel: Yeah, well the next shipment should be better…

Young Lithium: Is your supplier Old Lady Styx, by any chance?

Young Pixel: Yeah… why?

Young Lithium: Oh, no reason. It’s just that she’s my supplier, and she sympathizes with my cause. She thinks you have a monopoly on the business, and now she’s giving me your lemons.

Young Pixel: … My mom told you that? I knew I should have given her a discount!

Young Lithium: Yeah. And she cut your allowance, too.

Young Pixel: Oh, now that just whomps. How am I going to buy soda pop? How, I ask you, how?

Young Lithium: Poot if I care. I just came by to tell you I told the health department on you, I’m charging less, and my stand has a better location.

Young Pixel: Where’s your stand?

Young Lithium: Between your stand and the road.

Young Pixel: Wow. You’d think I would have seen that earlier…

Young Lithium: You might as well give up now. You’re not going to win.

Young Pixel: What are you talking about? I’ll crush you like a bug. You just watch. I just haven’t been serious before. Now everyone is going to come to my stand.

Young Lithium Excuses, excuses.

Young Pixel I ask for no excuses, this is a reason. A perfectly logical and simple reason. No one is going to like your lemonade, no one! And furthermore… can I have a glass? I’m kind of thirsty.

Young Lithium: What??

Young Pixel: I like my business and all, but a good deal is a good deal…

(Young Lithium stares at him for a bit longer, then leaves. Enter Socrates, with a much shorter beard. Possibly bright red.)

Young Pixel: Hey, ugly, not-yet-wise stone-cutter, would you like some lemonade? It’s only fifty drachmae!

Young Socrates: Lemonade? Oh, my, yes! Lemonade is quite good. The true form of perfection if I do say so myself.

Young Pixel: Yikes… He’s said three sentences and I’m already confused.

Young Socrates: I’m afraid that was four sentences.

Young Pixel: Oh, that’s where you’re wrong. “Oh, my, yes!” — no verb.

Young Socrates: And you’d be the expert?

Young Pixel: Oh, yeah.. I mean, if there’s anybody that can teach something completely useless and unverifiable, it’s me! Or possibly Dr. Wayne Dyer.

Young Socrates: Who?

Young Pixel: Exactly.

Young Socrates: So. Well, where did you get this stand?

Young Pixel: Well, there was this young, walking, talking beaver that had mistakenly built a lemonade stand in front of an active volcano. In the meantime, I had accidentally built a dam in a river behind a hot, hot construction site. So we did an even swap. I moved my dam to the volcano and he moved his stand to the river.

Young Socrates: Doesn’t that deal seem a bit one-sided?

Young Pixel: No, not really. The construction site was really hot.

Young Socrates: Right. So, what’s the deal with the wristwatch and socks?

Young Pixel: So I can tell when the dragon starts to smell bad.

Young Socrates: Oh.

Young Pixel: Yeah, I tried hiding it inside the stand of my competitor, but he noticed.

Young Socrates: You mean the guy with the ridiculously low prices? How do you compete? I mean, have you actually sold any lemonade?

Young Pixel: No, not yet. Every time I’m about to make a sale I end up talking to the people so long that they leave.

Young Socrates: Isn’t that bad for business?

Young Pixel: Yes. Yes, it is. Wow, I should rethink my “talk and/or walk” plan.

Young Socrates: Yes, you should. Now can I have some lemonade. Here’s my fifty–

Young Pixel: I guess it all goes back to my troubled youth as a cobbler…

Young Socrates: You don’t understand, I want to buy some–

Young Pixel In the end, it made more sense to let her just think I was going to pay her back for her lemons.

Young Socrates No, no. Look, here’s the money, I’m going to take some lemonade…

Young Pixel What are you doing? Why are you touching my stand? This is for paying customers only. Git, boy, git!

Young Socrates Oh, bother… (exit Socrates)

Young Pixel: That’s weird. I can’t help but feel that this is important for my future somehow… I mean, four people in a row just came by and none of them wanted any lemonade.

(Enter Attractive Stranger)

Young Pixel: Here comes a rather obtuse looking fellow. Maybe I could con him into buying some of my lemonade.

Attractive Stranger: I heard that.

Young Pixel: Who goes there? And would you like some lemonade? … um, it might help you with that faint smell of pedicure and hot coals.

Sexy, Sexy Stranger: Lemonade? You don’t recognize me? No, of course you don’t; I’m you.

Young Pixel: Me? Now that’s as silly as Macaulay Culkin ever becoming unpopular. If you’re really me, then when am I going to–

Damn Cute Stranger: Oh, I’m beginning to think that it’s never going to happen. Maybe if you stopped eating paint chips.

Young Pixel: Okay, say I believe you, does that mean that you’re going to buy some lemonade from me?

Future Pixel: Oh, god no. I know what you did to that lemonade. Besides, I already bought some from your competitor. If I were you, though, I’d watch out. Just wait until the ATF, FDA, DEA, NAACP, and MADD hear about it.

Young Pixel: The Who?

Regular Pixel: Yeah, that’s about how popular you will become around here.

Young Pixel: What?

73¤!¿: No, he’s on second.

Young Pixel: Huh? Never mind. Okay fine, if you’re really me, what am I thinking?

73¤!¿: Oh, that’s low. She’s your mom too, you know. Alright, fine, fine, I’ll stop.

Young Pixel: So… did you come back in time to give me a terrible warning about the future? Is there some sort of futuristic device that I need now? Or are you just going to give me some lame advice?

73¤!¿: Oh, neither. I just came back to hang out.

Young Pixel: What? Why??

73¤!¿: Oh, it’s just that I was so bored in my regular time, there was this really creepy guy in a black suit all up on me… and besides, I ran out of money to pay my regular friends.

Young Pixel: Money to pay your friends? What kind of friends are these?

73¤!¿: Oh, you’ll find out. Which reminds me: don’t sell any lemonade to the kids in your class.

Young Pixel: Too late.

73¤!¿: What? No it isn’t, you just want to do it anyway.

Young Pixel: To-may-to, to-mah-to.

73¤!¿: You pronounced those the same… never mind, it’s your life.

Young Pixel: Damn straight. So, wanna play backgammon?

73¤!¿: I never learned how.

Young Pixel: I’ll teach you.

73¤!¿: Okay.

(Exit 73¤!¿, Young Pixel removes backwards hat. Back in the psychologist’s office, Pixel is laying on the couch when the Man in Black enters)

Pixel: So that’s my life. All I remember, all I am, all…. oh, hello.

MiB: Hello Mr. Styx. We understand that you’ve recently participated in a series of strange encounters

Pixel: Who’s we?

MiB: I represent people of, shall we say, importance…

Pixel: You mean like LL Cool J? Is he with you? Can I see him?

MiB: We do not know of whom you are speaking, but we can assure you, we hold vast more power than he does.

Pixel: You mean you’re like his mom? He respects her. Man, I’ve never seen a man front so much for someone, seriously….

MiB: No, we have never heard of Elell Cool Jay. Our representative is of greater galactic importance. Regardless, it is imperative for you to trust us and tell us what you have seen.

Pixel: I trust you, but do you trust me?

MiB: I am afraid I do not understand.

Pixel: Check this out: you turn around and let yourself fall and I’ll catch you.

MiB: We do not have time for this.

Pixel: How do you expect me to trust someone who has no time for me? You remind me of my late parents.

MiB: Your parents are not deceased.

Pixel: Really? *phew* am I glad to hear that. Why would you think they were deceased, though?

MiB: The term ‘late’ usually refers to a deceased person.

Pixel: Man, am I glad I was on time to my Bar Mitzvah then!

MiB: You are not Jewish.

Pixel: Yeah, I guess I am generous and optimistic. Thanks! So, I’ll see you later, then?

MiB: No, I am afraid we cannot leave yet. You have not told us what you have seen.

Pixel: When?

MiB: When you encountered the time/space/reality anomalies.

Pixel: What T/S/R A’s?

MiB: Mr. Styx, you are making this exceedingly difficult and you must understand that my benefactors will not like that.

Pixel: Ooh, you used a singular proverb, good for you! We remember when we first did that.

MiB: I’m sorry?

Pixel: Oh, don’t apologize, using English correctly is the first step to rehabilitation.

MiB: Rehabilitation? Of what?

Pixel: Of seeing a temporal anomaly, which you’ve obviously seen.

MiB: No, I am sorry. Those anomalies don’t exist, neither one of us has ever seen one before.

Pixel: Aw, damn, I worked you back to denial… Well, whatever.

MiB: Mr. Styx, you have two coins in your pocket.

Pixel: No I don’t.

MiB: Yes. I’m certain that you do. Take them out now.

Pixel: No I don’t. If I do, what type are they?

MiB: One is one of your U.S. Quarter Dollars and the other is what you call a dime. Please take them out now.

Pixel: Well, hot dog, you were right. You should take that on Vegas, you could make some serious bank.

MiB: Give me one of the coins.

Pixel: A coin trick? Oh, cool. Here you go.

(the coin shimmers, then fades away. Use magic if you have to)

MiB: No one on Earth will ever see that coin again.

Pixel: That’s a nice trick, I’ve seen better, though. Like this one time, I saw this guy push a coin in his back, then spit it out of his mouth, it was great! Can you do that?

MiB: No, I’m afraid I can’t. The point was to teach you a lesson.

Pixel: A pretty crappy lesson if you couldn’t spit out the coin. What was I supposed to be learning, anyway? Fractions? I hate fractions. I’m sorry if I didn’t learn them right.

MiB: (taps a hand to his ear) I can’t seem to get through to him, he’s been brainwashed well. I don’t think we have anything to fear. Hm. (looks at Pixel) This may take a while…

Pixel: So… can I have my coin back?

MiB: What? No. No one on Earth will ever see that coin again. I told you that.

Pixel: I didn’t think you were serious. That was just a trick. I need that coin to buy some Jolly Ranchers today.

MiB: The point was to teach you how foolish it would be to not cooperate with us.

Pixel: That’s a jolly good lesson there, but… Well, I just thought that I wasn’t going to be paying for it. I mean, I know you can teach fractions really well, but, can’t you do it without making us poor college students poor…

MiB: You are not in college.

Pixel: Not right now, but you just wait for my classes tomorrow.

MiB: Tomorrow is Sunday.

Pixel: What, you have something better to do on a Sunday? You can’t wait for my classes?

MiB: (obviously trying to segue out of this conversation) So… How about that weather?

Pixel: It’s good…. Great, even. Great enough to wait 24 hours to see my classes start.

MiB: My information was that you do not go to school.

Pixel: What kind of a teacher has bad information like that… Seriously.


Pixel: Yeah, and you suck at Fractions too.

MiB: Listen, if you want your wife to keep her pretty face, you will not tell anyone about the anomalies that you experienced.

Pixel: Hmm… Listen, I don’t have a wife. Maybe you meant to go teach someone else? Are you a Jehovah’s Witness?

MiB: No!

Pixel: Good, I didn’t want to have to go into the Witness Protection Program.

MiB: You are Pixel Q. Styx, right?

Pixel: No, I’m Fox Mulder, have you met my lovely sidekick Superman?

MiB: Don’t toy with me. Well, seeing as it’s obvious that no one would listen to you anyway, I think I shall leave.

Pixel: No, wait! Don’t you want to stay and watch I Love Lucy?

MiB: I’m afraid that would prove to be impossible. Not only do you not have cable, but your television is broken.

Pixel: Oh, no it’s not. You just have to wait for it to heat up, it’s like a Fierro.

MiB: It is nothing like a Fierro, it is missing a bulb. It will not work.

Pixel: There you go with your pessimistic impatience again. It’ll work. Trust me, I know. You just have to wait for it to warm up. Not too much, though, or else it’ll heat up and stop working again. So we can see the first ten minutes of I Love Lucy, then catch the highlights at nine.

MiB: It is nine twenty right now, your television does not work, and you do not have cable.

Pixel: How can you live being wrong all the time?

MiB: We are never incorrect. We will leave now.

Pixel: You suck at exits, you know that?

MiB: I know more than you can imagine.

Pixel: Including the winning lottery numbers? Because I can imagine those.

MiB: Goodbye Mr. Styx. (He fades away)

Pixel: Damn. What is it with everyone fading away around me? This could be really annoying, you know?

Voice from Backstage: We know, we know.

Pixel: Well, as long as you know. I’d hate for my story to not be known.

A Small Quiz:

Cheers to my Animal friend for playing the sympathy card and winning this week’s free Pix Capacitor… Jeers to my Animal friend for converting the sympathy card into a ‘give me moneys’ card.

This Week’s Questions:

1: Are you going to steal my play, give it to a director and act it somewhere without giving me due credit? Can I get free tickets?

2: Have you voted for next season’s Philosopher’s Stone yet? The poll closes on Wednesday.

3: If you had a Thrifty Nickel stand that one of your friends had stolen and painted for me, and I asked you for it because I wanted to set it up in the local college’s student union to distribute my viewspapers, would you give it to me? Assume you’re Rachele Ann Amos (May 25, 1984) of 646 Golden Eagle Chaparral, NM 88081. Telephone number (915) 346 4972 (915 DINGY PAL)

Quick P.S. sucks.

Double-P.S. Rachele, question three could refer to anyone!! But what if I give you a dollar and tell everyone to not not prank-call you?

Triple-P.S. Usually I wouldn’t reprint this kind of stuff, but odds are nobody else is going to read this play besides you guys, soo…

Ind e-Pen XXXIV (part 1)

Filed under: Tagged — Pixel @ 14:30