The Dead Room

Written by Me

Oh, it was such a scary night. Like, owls were out and hooting and shit, and it was dark, being night. But then again, it was what Harvey Davidson was used to. Looking past the children's novel/eighties-esque expository to this story, he could see that there was heart beneath it all. a kind of heart that hadn't been seen in the genre; the heart of a pig fetus. In the inner sanctum of the heart, there has been latex placed within the veins and arteries, so that an eager dissector can better understand the way the heart of a pig fetus works. The smell seems pretty.. different at first, but after some long days of work, you start to get used to it, and it develops into a sense of nostalgia. Harvey was not an ordinary pig fetus, oh no. He had talent, baby, the raw kind that still needs to be shaped into perfection by an overwhelming supply of biologists. Actually, Harvey wasn't different at all. He got cut up in about five-hundred pieces, and both of his eyeballs were unsuccessfully removed from his skull, and popped.. before the butchered fetus was disposed of. Harvey now spends the rest of his days at the local county toxic waste control center.

Getting back to the story, it was an enormously scary night. Wind was blowing. The sort of wind that howls to a lonesome traveller on the empty streets. A traveller like Phillip Head. Phillip, after realizing he was in a bleak situation, fled the city-life of playing guitar on a street corner, hoping for the spare change of many a commuter. A commuter like Tipper Ware. Tipper was a saleswoman for little monkeys, the kind that you get when you buy a regular monkey. Her partner, Bill Ohni, was in charge of sellling the regular monkeys. "But if the big monkeys automatically come with little monkeys, why do I need to try and sell them?" Tipper asked one day. "Oh yeah missy?" Bill replied. "I'll make sure you never sell unneccessary miniature monkeys in this town again! You're fired!"

Distraught and in need of care, Tipper turned to Sal Ahmi, a metrosexual freelance artist. Being a metrosexual, the bastard wasn't of much help to Tipper. "Bastard!" as Tipper was once quoted as saying. Sal, being a canadian refugee, whose former name was Chuck, once took shelter in the abode of a lemming. A lemming named Orig Ahmi. Chuck realized he would never make it without a name change, so there you have it. Sal had a child from a previous marriage, named Iwantmym Ahmi. Iwantmym got what she wanted, and now Sal is stuck paying child support. He paints picturesque scenery, like the dark side of a garbage can in the indirect sunset of an alley, a patch of gelatinous mildew in his french-style bathtub, or some rather "candid" paintings. He almost got a contract for his own painting show, "You're on Candid Canvas," but the plans fell through at the last moment, because Tipper lost her connections at the television agency.

Of course, Harvey, Phillip, Tipper, Bill, Sal, Orig, and the gelatinous mildew were not aware of the extraordinary events which would reunite them, and then slowly rip apart the fragile bonds of trust and dignity, once saught after by the Crystalline Crabs of Montmartre in order to save the Princess of Catfish Beyond All Other Catfish, Princess Ant-Rambling.

Phillip and Sal, both being of Genevan ethnicity, had a huge apetite for screwdriver salad, a mix of over 26 herbs and spices to fulfill the escstatic lust in the common construction worker's salaries. Princess Ant-Rambling would have none of this! Her post-remedial [PR] position on the Board of Socialist Moonrakers assured her that she would have enough ham to regurgitate into bologna, salami, and many other italian meats. However, due to her PR, she was unluckily endowed with the ability to talk on and on and on about shit that doesn't even matter damnit! This disorder, known as PR-Incessant Rambling, was incurable.. except for one cure! Only one man was able to reverse this tragic sub-domine epiphany..

Lucifer was a schoolboy, when he heard his first Beatles song. "Love Me Do," I think it was, and from there it didn't take him long. Got himself a guitar, used to play it every night. Now he's in a rock n' roll outfit, and everything's alright, don't you know? Lucifer told God, "Screw you, I'm going away. I'm gonna hit the big time, gonna be a big star someday." God came to the Pearly Gates with a teardrop in his eye. Lucifer said, "Don't cry God, just smile and wave goodbye."

Now, back to the story. Only one man was able to save Princess Ant-Ramling. That man was Ed King of Lynyrd Skynyrd. Yes, the short, fat ugly one with the dirty hair who was always excluded from the group, or always sort of leaning against the wall behind everyone with a sad, depressed look on his face. Princess Ant-Rambling secretly recruited Orig and the gelatinous mildew behind the rest of the group's backs. Their mission: find this "Ed King" and bring him back, dead or alive! Bahahaha. No, just alive.

However, there were secret forces at work, brewing devious plans of deception and lidocaine. Reports suggest that there are two men running amuck: a skinny, trash-talking white boy with long hair, wearing baggy clothes and a ski-cap, and a shorter, fat-ass with a trenchcoat. Believed to be the brains of the operation, the shorter of the two has never been known to speak a word.. well, he's either the brains of the operation, or the skinny trash-talking white boy's heterosexual bitch.