Subject: The Greatest Poker Night Ever Told
Date: Thu, 11 Nov 2004 01:46:00 -0500
We had gathered together out of necessity. After almost a week of
trudging through the ashes of civilization which rained down upon us
from the post apocalyptic sky most of those of us who survived were
starting to get quite hungry. The best armed among us had already
formed strongholds in the giant supermarkets and had formed alliances
with thugs and villains to keep the rest of us at bay so while we
slowly grew weaker and weaker they feasted on caned chili and
lunchables, the lunch meat in which stayed good for a surprisingly long
time without refrigeration. It was time to form ourselves an army. An
army of hydroponic farmers.
“That’s right,” I said, “I’m sure these ashes of our civilization
raining down upon us from this post apocalyptic sky will make an
excellent fertilizer! Why, I don’t remember exactly what it was I did
before our civilization collapsed in a flaming whirlwind post-impending
doom, but chances are just as good as anything that I was a world
famous nuclear botanist.”
And so I led my army of belligerent mutants into the city center, where
the supermarkets were small and less heavily defended. We threatened
the market lord with big scary words that I found in a dictionary that
morning in the crumbled ruins of the public library I’d slept in. At
first the market lord threw rotten meat at me, but pretty soon he got
board, and then ignored me. Seeing that my tactics were working I
proceeded to phase two, which included a little dance I made up all by
myself. Feeling fairly confident that my enemy was sufficiently
hypnotized I lead my army triumphantly through the revolving doors and
into what appeared to be a south Vietnamese jungle run by a crack team
of drunken monkey knife fighters. Feces flying everywhere.
I made a dash for the produce section and grabbed the most genetically
modified tomatoes I could find. The ones that had not yet even
considered wilting and still pulsated healthily with the rhythm of a
sexy latin dancer. Yes, these tomatoes would spawn the progeny that
would feed my mutant army as I lead them across the desert to a land of
milk and honey promised to us by God, my best and only true friend who
understands me and listens to me when I complain about things and
doesn’t make fun of me.
But the tomatoes! So good! I must eat one now! But no! My army!
think of the future. in the future the army will need the tomatoes
that will grow from the seeds hidden deep within these tomatoes’ ripe
and juicy wombs. So tender. So flavourful. The tomatoes pulsed at me
sexfully and I saw that my men were not watching. I took a bite and my
entire being was engulfed in a spiraling wave of ecstasy as I chewed
and chewed and swallowed savouring each precious moment and then,
pausing, I reflected on my situation.
I was no nuclear botanist. Now that I considered it, I didn’t know a
damn thing about hydroponic farming, except that it was what those
astronauts used to grow tomatoes in space. And it has something to do
with water. and “ponics”. whatever that is.
I took another juicy bite of succulent tomato and felt myself rise
above the world. I became as god. And I took in my surroundings
completely. This was no south Vietnamese jungle cleverly stuffed
inside of a downtown cooperative supermarket. It was like, all just
atoms and shit. And as time slowed to a stop I gave the blue octopus a
million dollars and he gave me the magic crown and told me to have a
I said that I would.
tonight (thursday). dangerhouse. first hand at nine.
dangerhouse is XX XXXXXXXXX XX number XXX in hydroponic somerville
dangerhouse probably needs more acid.
but beer will do in a pinch.