Wednesday, September 4, 2013

The Windows

There are twelve windows in this room.

They say one of the windows leads me to my freedom, to a life outside of all this. The other eleven lead me back to more of the same, or maybe worse. Although it's hard to imagine what might be worse. They say that the imagination is the most powerful tool for torture, but I've seen some stuff that puts the unknown to shame. For example, there's a thing called the threader. 

The thread - a thin, non-reactive metal cable - goes in your mouth, and you have to swallow. You get a break while they wait for it to come out the other end. When it does, they pull it until there's a loop with its center inside of you. Then they hook both ends to a centrifuge and start spinning you around the room.

Did you know your intestinal tract has a tensile strength, a tearing point? Everything does, really. Even the soul. The threader takes you right up against that limit. I've seen strong men cry and later shit blood; I've seen weak men resist until they were torn in half from the inside out.

I'm somewhere in the middle. That's probably why they put me in the window room to begin with. For those who can endure torment of the body, there's always torment of the mind to consider. 

And what better way to torture a prisoner than offering him a choice? I know that if I choose wrong, I'll recriminate myself until I'm torn apart just as surely as if I'd spent an hour on the threader. I know that if I choose right, the whole thing might have been an exercise in false hope. It'd only work once, but once would be enough.

So I say nuts to the whole thing. I sit in the window room. I close my eyes. I must look like I'm thinking, or praying, or maybe even shitting. After you've watched a man's bowels rupture and spray feces across the room in a wide arc, shitting for an audience isn't as embarrassing. 

Time passes. I know this can't please them. They wanted to watch me choose and doubt and panic and fail. This has to be a disappointment on the order of the other prisoner who died of a heart attack before they even got to him. It wasn't even a heart attack from fear, just a congenital defect that picked that moment to give the guy the easy way out.

Oh how we all paid for that.

There's a click behind me. I ignore it. Remember what I said about the imagination? Whatever I can come up with in the dark of my mind is still better than their reality. There's another click. Now I'm terrified and curious. Click.

I turn my head and behold a forest of densely packed needles that now covers a quarter of the floor. As I watch another row silently rises, the click only coming when the floor first opens. Intuition tells me they could have made the entire process completely noise free, but the click is part of the fun.

There's a time limit for my choosing, then. Or maybe they just got impatient. Either way, I have about a minute before the needles press my flesh aside and join everything else under my skin. Maybe I should lie here. Maybe I should let it happen. Needles are as good an end as any other. At least my death wouldn't be pointless, ha ha.

But no. My problem, aside from the obvious, is that there's a part of me that won't give in; there's a blind idiot god in the dark of my brain who just won't let the ride stop. And wouldn't you know it? He's got the wheel. 

I feel myself rising, rising like the needles, and in just as much control. I take a step, then another towards one of the windows. Which one doesn't matter, I now realize. Maybe the windows don't open. Maybe all the windows lead back here. Maybe life is just another window room we place ourselves in, and time takes the place of the needles, every tick of the second hand another sharp row in place. 

I choose a window. Don't we all?

Thursday, July 11, 2013


It's a little known fact that Peru doesn't exist. It never has, in fact.

Early in prehistory there an antecedent to the Tunguska event that hit the Russian steppes in 1908. However, whereas the Tunguska event was only partially realized, the event that took place in what we call Peru was complete - an area twice the size of Spain gone, and in its place a swirling hole of nothing.

South American tribes knew to avoid that land. Their name for it roughly translates as "Dreamsink". When the Spanish arrived the first conquistadors to lay eyes on it went mad and were never heard from again. The second group survived, and their ravings were committed to paper by priests and then sealed in the Vatican's vaults.

It's said that the men themselves were sealed away as well, but they live to this day. Or so the legend goes, anyway.

Since then the political powers of the world wide community have cooperated to keep it a secret. Even at the height of the Cold War, American and Soviet agents worked together to maintain the cover. There is a Peruvian flag. There are Peruvian athletes at the Olympics. Maybe you think you've been to Peru on vacation, but you haven't.

Peru doesn't exist. It never has, in fact.

Friday, November 30, 2012

Windows 8 stole my bike

Windows 8 is awful.

It is the single worst experience I've ever had with a non-broken computer. Nothing about it is good. Everything about it is bad.

It causes birth defects at 15 feet. It eats kittens and gets you pulled over by the cops. It pushed an old woman into the street in front of another old woman driving, sending her into the other lane to crash head on into a bus filled with, you guessed it, more old women. It is worse than gritty single ply toilet paper. It's like drinking asparagus urine. Windows 8 is the operating system equivalent of a bot fly.

It causes erectile dysfunction in men and hairy breasts in women. It rots your teeth. If Chairman Mao got Courtney Love pregnant in a lead paint factory insulated with asbestos and they aborted the fetus, Windows 8 would still be worse than that stillborn monster. It assassinated Kennedy (both of them), was the true Zodiac Killer, and is responsible for 83% of missing children.

It eats babies. Windows 8 rapes women, demeans them for the duration of their forced pregnancy, refuses pain medicine on their behalf during labor, and then eats that baby too. It hunts animals into extinction for fun. It litters. It litters in cemeteries. It litters in cemeteries for veterans. Windows 8 invented bedbugs. Windows 8 cannot stop inventing bedbugs.

It tells you about the surprise party your friends have been planning for months. It gives you worse diarrhea than Mexican tap water. When offered food if they would use Windows 8, third world children said, "No thanks, I'll go see if I can hunt up some beetles instead." It's like being gang raped by a pack of wild dogs if the dogs themselves were being raped at the same time by water buffalo.

It's a fart sandwich with a side of used tampon cole slaw. It’s powered by the ghosts of abandoned children who died of exposure. If you've ever woken up to find a bruise or cut you don't remember receiving, that was Windows 8. It slept with your wife. Don't have a wife? Windows 8 will find you one, pay for the wedding, then have a three-way with your new bride and your mom.

It's the number one reason alcoholics relapse. Prolonged usage results in a distended anus. Windows 8 is waiting under your bed right now. Every cancer cell has a little label on it that says "Running on Windows 8!" It's the preferred operating system of kidnappers, pedophiles, and people that don't silence their cell phones at the movies. Every time you use it the devil is invited into your home. In fact, its original tagline was, "Like a welcome mat for Satan!"

It is a member in good standing of Westboro Baptist Church. It periodically changes your background to naked pictures of your grandmother. It slowly replaces all your pictures with naked pictures of your grandmother. Windows 8 is your naked grandmother.

It puts expired milk back in the fridge. Windows 8 sells drugs to children in poor neighborhoods. It invented overdraft fees. It makes vending machines not accept 3 out of every 20 quarters. It gives you an instant hangover. It caused the recession and shot Bambi’s mother.

It wrote Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull, Star Wars: Episode I, and Star Trek; Nemesis. It cancelled Arrested Development and Firefly. Superman’s weaknesses are Kryptonite, magic, and Windows 8. It’s currently developing movies based on Connect Four, Sorry!, and the feeling you got when school was out for the summer.

It cuts baby powder with cocaine, turning your infant into a junkie. If you try to register Windows 8 with an African or Hispanic name it changes it to John Wayne America. It’s why ice cream doesn’t taste as good as it did when you were a kid. Every Windows 8 disc is made from distilled orphan tears and packaged in the skin of widows.

It’s why you have to wait five minutes at a red light in the middle of nowhere with no cars coming. It's going to need you to come in on Sunday. Windows 8 crashed the Hindenburg, the Titanic, and Amelia Earhart's plane. It causes toothaches, hang nails, and papercuts. It offers you a choice between centipedes or maggots and then fills your mouth with both. Windows 8 drove the car that killed your childhood pet.

It punches nuns, strangles rabbis, and kicks imams in the crotch. It told parents vaccination causes autism, but this is a lie - Windows 8 is the true cause of autism. It raises the price of gas. It was the reason you got fired from your last job, broke up with your soul mate, and had that car accident. Windows 8 occasionally sober drives.

It never flushes, it farts in elevators and poops in the shower. It left a used Band-Aid in the lunch meat. It replaced all the lunch meat with used Band-Aids. For every thousand dollars in profit Windows 8 makes it ruins one well in Africa. It leaves HIV infected needles in the coin slots of vending machines. It steals the kidneys of drifters, murders teenagers with a hook hand, and calls from inside the house.

If you want a picture of using Windows 8, imagine a boot stamping on a human face – forever. Windows 8 meant to learn about computers someday but got distracted by a shiny pebble.

I don’t like Windows 8 very much.