Tinkerertink69

Tinkerertink69
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Your closet, Indiana, France
Birthday
July 16
Title
President and CEO of Your Mom
Company
Your closet
Bio
Smell my Paws! Does that smell like poo to you? Writer? No way! I'm a guy with a cat who knows my passwords and likes to blog!! What? Oops, I mean, I'm a cat who likes to blog. Smell my paws!!! French prostitutes? Only on Tuesdays!! Lets cuddle!!

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Salon.com
NOVEMBER 24, 2012 11:43PM

THE STRANGE TALE OF A RANDOM CHARACTER

Rate: 7 Flag

I have decided to revert back to my primordial madness which stems from my lack of understanding of anything relevant except to myself and the few imaginary friends I have gathered about.

The bus stops here, there, and down the street, picking up vagrants, the unwashed masses of ignored society, the sleepers, the dreamers, the American soul lost in a sea of acidic backwash from industrial giants.

I sat in the back, my hands in my lap.

I was singing inside my head, a song I heard the night before last year would begin.

"Dream? The Dream? IT'S DEAD!" an old man screamed at the front of the bus.

Where were we heading, this group?

Nowhere, perhaps?

Anywhere but here?

My stop was next.  

Or was it?

I couldn't remember.

There was a woman ahead, in a black short dress, showing her knees to the world as if that was the thing to do.

Was it the thing to do?

Nobody knew.

Didn't really even care, there she was.

Her eyes were looking down towards the ground, maybe looking for happiness that wasn't there, and the best she could do was a piece of dead, brown grass blowing to the side by a howling wind.

"The dream, man, the dream is dead and what are we doing? Riding on a bus to....WHERE THE HELL ARE WE GOING?" the old man kept screaming.

Where was the driver?

Gone insane?

The driver was a program inside the steering wheel, waiting for a click from somewhere, stopping on a dime, waiting, then moving on again.

The steering wheel had been replaced years ago with a sign that read, 'Correct change only please'

The future of the world as built by Popular Science 1932.

Sidney, my friend, who was now dead, but I thought of him a few times each year, would laugh each time he read the sign.

"Why?" I asked every so often but he would just shrug and keep laughing.

 The world was a mad place, a better place for it, but still a mad place, a lunatic land, filled with mud, sludge, puss, chocolate ice cream and cake, all mixed together and served in a cup.

"$1.95!" the man behind the counter says, pushing it towards you.

You pay, happily, because it's the thing to do, expected for you to do.

You do not drink it, but carry it along with you, to give it to someone else, pass it along. 

Was I ever part of the in crowd?

Was there ever an in crowd?

There may have been, sometime, way back when, when we didn't care.

Now, here I sat, all alone, watching the road stream by, the world moving by, inch by inch, feet by feet, slowly rolling across my mind, throwing itself into the thought pattern.

It is at this point when I decide to become just like the rest of my family, insane, and hence this is where the story becomes really strange... 

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everybody must really be gone if they aren't at your party, tink. ;)
Sooooo.......... At last you've discovered what's really wrong with the world. Nobody knows where the bus is going. Progress? That's being in a different wasteland than the one we were in yesterday. Don't look forward - look back! Look at how wonderful we used to think we were! Turn back the clock. Everything will be wonderful again! We'll believe that we're exceptional, or some other bull-twickey, and we'll be happy! The terrific kind of "happy" that takes us to a therapist twice a week. They're coming to take you away ha ha!
They're coming to take you away, ho,ho!
Ha ha, ho ho. Ha ha, ho ho. Ha ha, ho ho hee hee!

;-)

Rated
.
This might be an EP, because it's really good, really, and it's the only post in the right feed besides that old one about tricking women into sex that I never read the first time. You're right, it's hopeless, but I sure would like to read some of "where the story becomes really strange... "
Superstrange. Me likey. (r)
Superstrange. Me likey. (r)
This reminds me of CS Lewis' "The Great Divorce." I want Chapter Two, please. I've read Lewis, your writing is a nice epilogue.
"You do not drink it, but carry it along with you, to give it to someone else, pass it along. "

That would cover just about everything not right with the world.
except for me being a wanton whore and showing my knees to anyone who wants to look, I sound like the lady staring at the ground. chin up, kitteh... we're all a little mad here.

best way to cope.

rated.
dolores, they're gone, but they'll be back!! THEY ALWAYS COME BACK!! :D

sky, I'm already there!! They threw away the key!! :D

trig, ah thanks my friend. I've decided to start writing again, get the words from brain to paper and then share them mother truckers!! The story has only just begun. :)

(And no EPs anymore, the perfect Cover should never be re-written!!! :D)

Stacey, ~takes a bow~ Tanks!!!

nile, still living Chapter Two!! :D But soon will be written!!!

icy, ~nodding~ And what's right with it!! EWWWW!! :D

theig, I like to look down myself, never know what you'll find!! :D

Kevin, tankies!!! :)