User blog:Fraterchaos/Sleepland Development Corporation

(not sure if anyone would be interested, but this is an old train-of-thought story I wrote sometime back... it's a bit werid, not really meant to make sense... if I get positive feedback (or even just an idea anyone would want to see more, there is a second installment of the story)

  SleepLand Development Corporation

You awake in shock. The feeling that you were just slapped across the face with a large trout. Talking out of turn in your sleep. Across the bridges of somulence, we ride nightmares.

An aircraft carrier of love. Sporting this banner from its noble prow, "honi soit que mal y pense". And the monkey still looks in the mirror. And the yeknom still looks out. Did I tell you about my random hallucination? I see a little girl in a vision, she is frosted with cake frosting. I am remembering how much I hate cake. She turns into a sweetypie. From there, into a snacky cake, and back again.

Out on the lake of mystery, the Christ and his apostles fish for moby dick. I watch them through my field glasses when I think you aren't looking. We walked on the water earlier today. Crawling away down the dark airshaft, I can hear you following. Its a scene from Alien, and I feel the terrible fear knowing the cake girl is right behind me. H. R. Giger designed the cake girl alien thing, it's hideous in its asexual demonism. The sugar roses and bunting all lend a terrible sense of meaning to the overall cake-like design. The gaping maw of the thing appears a pit into the netherest nether hell. (The gaping maw, as it were, was actually the inside of the letter O, in the writing on the cake, "Happy Birthday").

This land is your land, this land is my land, from the strip cut forests, to the plutonium highlands. From the broken cities, to the gulf stream chemicals, this land is oozing ugly goo. Perhaps we shall elect that our battle cry? The door ahead is keyed to me through the broken pentagram tatoo on my left forearm. When you pass that doorway, you are no longer in the world you know. In this world, broken and discarded children's toys rule. Our king is a GI Joe with a missing arm, and the queen is a headless barbie. (But then again, aren't they all?) Garbage collection on my world is left to the ones who really understand it, lawyers and Madison Avenue ad men. There is an unlimited open season on weasles.

Calling planet earth, calling planet earth. We are not intelligent beings from another world. We don't come in peace. Do not takes us to your leader. Do not remain calm and everything will be all wrong. This will never all be made clear to you. It would be wise to be frightened of us. We are powerful and we DO want to hurt you. This has been a collect call on AT&T. You will be billed for this call.

So now we all have to prepare for the alien invasion. I am digging a secret underground hideout. Inside I will keep everything I need to eventually defeat the damned aliens, too bad I have no idea what those things might be. My emergency kit contains cigarettes, instant coffee, a small amount of weed and chocolate. Baby, I am prepared! Bring on the alien bug monsters.

Ok, so it turns out (of course, didn't you see this coming?) that the aliens are not bug monsters after all, but close relatives of the alien cake girl. But these alien cake monsters are much larger. Seems the scout is a small creature compared to the typical adult cake monster. These blasted beings soon take over most of the world, remaking in cake monster modern (or so we guessed it must be, although I suppose thinking back on it now, from the future, it was more than likely cake monster traditional, them being colonists on a strange world and all, or is that ascribing way to much humanity to the cake monsters?) the hideous pattern in which they laid out their streets. The terrible almost alive look to all the two and three and even four tiered buildings. And the worst of all, the governmental buildings, with their grotesque figures atop. Nobody knew what they really represented, but to humans it usually appears to be a drunken, mutated, half frog, half human man preparing to marry something that could only be described as rancid jello.

Finally, back in Paranoia Bunker, we have made a breakthrough we think could even the score with the cake monsters. Using cake monster DNA we obtained from the cooperative scout, we can cook up some terrible biological weapon and clean our world of cake monsters forever.

This afternoon, it being Lutefisk Day and all, I plan to just kick back. Maybe kick some front. Don't know if I want to go to all that effort. Wait a moment love, here's where we get off the train. Out, onto the unfamiliar platform, I had once almost vowed to never travel again, and here I was, wherever that is. Only reason I am here now, only way I can stand it, is with her beside me. That makes everywhere feel like home to me. Meanwhile back at the ranch.

Unbeknownst to anyone, the anti cake virus weapon wore off after six months. Stupid humans, thinking they had sure taught the cake guys a lesson, never realized the truely horrifying nature of the cake monsters need for revenge upon its enemies. The cake monster fleet is orbiting our globe even now. As soon as nobody is aware of whats happening, death rays shoot out from the fleet of ships, and earth is scorched to a cinder in a nuclear blast of chain reactions. The cake monster death ray turning any and all material instantly into nuclear fuel.

In absolute stupifying terror, the few astronauts on the space shuttle watch as their home is destroyed by the vengance of the cake monsters. With no home to return to, they face nothing but a cold dark death in this floating tomb.

Back at the station, under the blood red moon, we cross the platform and go downstairs into the building. We stop momentarily in the deserted corridor, embrace each other and kiss passsionately. We know this will be our best vacation ever. We stop and pick our bags back up, and proceed into the lobby. How I had to beg to take a train. You and the fast life, its a habit I am finding it hard to help you break. By this point, I am entirely sick of hearing the words "honey just relax, its a VACATION!" and its me who is saying it.

The scorched cinder of earth continues its yearly orbit around Sol, the other planets move in their stately accustomed rythms. Nothing much has changed with the death of earth. It did eliminate a large percentage of the humans, nearly every single one. But the others, the ones a bit less real, they go on and on. They took a path not popular, and found themselves sideways to reality. In the french riviera, she and I dine at gorgeous french restaraunts, places I would never have dreamed of entering. When I order, oddly enough, they serve me mostly american food. Everything they bring me, I know conforms to my likes and dislikes.

The cake monsters lived happily ever after, at least in the short term. After the wanton destruction of earth there was much rejoicing. Many other species from all parts of the galaxy applauded earth's destruction and the cakes were heros of the galaxy for some time. A royal house of the cake was established and the cakes ruled the galaxy. Then from andromeda, late one night, the fork people arrive.