Posted by NL on June 27, 2004 at 13:11:54:
Why They Killed-- Part 2
I don't think the big annual CANCRON Corp. encounter group fiasco had very much to do with the choices I made subsequently. My refusal to participate in some of the sessions, my eccentric and disruptive actions and their resultant negative impact on my life and career, the loss of employment, the blacklisting, the divorce, etc. were not adversities sufficient in my judgement to precipitate any of the rather impulsive things I did later, and I absolutely dispute any allegation of any sort, form, or variety, of a causal link between any prior event (related to my personal misfortunes) and any other subsequent event, of any kind, related to any other of my personal misfortunes. If I behaved "badly" or broke "the law", or inflicted "pain" or any kind or sort whatsoever upon any other "person" it is purely and simply due to the fact that alien entities invaded my brain and took control of my will. These entities appeared to me sometimes in the form of cookie crumbs derived from a very particular variety of cookie sold as "Macadamia Nut Butter Delights"-- I have myself, or DID myself, prepare such cookies as a form of consolation after my wife of eleven years fled our home, taking with her a few hastily packed bags and our only child, our daughter of eleven years, Forsycthia Resnobiddle. The label applied to me is of course Wazzo Resnobiddle but for the sake of brevity I shall refer to myself henceforth as "Pip".
Yes. The cookies. Pip made these cookies because they were light and fluffy and yet also creamy and of a delightful smoothness withal. Pip greatly desired to be soothed and comforted but he did so with absolutely no notion or awareness of any reason for same, that is, to be soothed and comforted. Perhaps it was only the smell he sought, as a thing of mere sensual delight, as he, Pip, had in other times and in other places sought the smell of a particular brand of coffee, which had always been advertised in conjunction with the phrase: "UMMMMMM! SMELL THE AROMY!" Pip ought to know, having been in a prior life, or phase or phrase of life, a very highly remunerated craftsman of the noble language of English, long live that noble skeleton, 'pon which many have hung their hats. Yes, Pip wrote ad copy, and he did it so well. Yes, the cookies-- well, they were easy to make. You just had to take this big cold semi-frozen plastic wrapped dido type thing and cut it up into slices. Was it before or after the aliens invaded my brain that the act of slicing up any kind of thing like the cookie dough or a salami or sausage gave Pip nightmares? Pip didn't know. I think I sort of remember what happened to Pip before he went crazy but it sounds so stupid we are both very embarrassed and if pressed on the issue we will deny everything. It was a weird coalition of events. LIke, Pip got called into a sudden conference at the CANCRON branch in Houston were he worked and they said to Pip, they said, Pip, we got a real big problem. Oh? Pip was curious and perhaps anticipated a challenge. He liked a challenge. Yep, his boss said to him, this is from the pipeline from the very top of CANCRON, and it is of a highly confidential nature. OH? Pip said. Already aliens seemed to be invading his mind. Yep, his boss said to him, seems like when you did that tour of the lab yesterday, something a little unfortunate happened. Oh? Pip said, trying to remember what happened. Yep, his boss said, seems like you inadvertantly touched a surface that might have been contaminated-- probably was contaminated, frankly, by the look of things. Oh? Pip said. He (Pip) sort of did vaguely remember being very bored and putting his hand on a lab bench, and he sort of remembered that his (Pip's) hand got wet and he sort of remembered casually wiping his hand on a crumpled up paper towel on the same lab bench. Yep, his boss said to him. You got some on you, as they say, and you know, Pip, you're not supposed to get any on you, don't you? Oh? Pip said. Yep, his boss said, and to make it even worse-- I'll pull no punches here, Pip, my man, 'cause you've written some good copy for us and made us a bit of money-- that stuff you got on you is real bad news, real bad, and it is like to fuck you up real bad, turn your life, what's left of it, into an absolute hell, a nightmare of pain and suffering and slow agonizing death, a horror beyond imagining, Pip, a fate worse than any fate you can imagine; we figure it's possible you'll end up begging someone to kill you, anyone, anyhow, because even having your guts ripped out and fed to you with a savory sauce of shit and liquid plumber will seem a better fate than the one in store for you-- at least, that's our best guess, because we are all of us in unknown territory here. Oh? Pip said.
PIPIPIPIPIPIP! I don't think anything that ever happened to me or anything alleged to have happened to me or to anyone else, ever, at CANCRON had anything to do with the subsequent deterioration of my health, my personal fortunes my life, my family, or any torments I have suffered or will suffer or have inflicted or will inflict on anyone or anything, ever. All I know is that Pip got sent to CANCRON's brainwashing department and in the process learned that he had absobed through his skin in that lab a special additive manufactured by CANCRON and widely distributed to the food industry and routinely added to all sorts of food products, even "Macadamia Nut Butter Delight" cookies, in minute quantities, very, very, minute quantities, as a "stabilizer"-- OH! The irony! Pip realized that way up the chain of command of CANCRON's parent Corporation resided an evil genius bent on killing and destroying and perverting the purpose of all life on Earth-- yes, way up at the top, way up the top of the chain of command, there dwelt: NOTHING. AIEEEEEEE! And what my (Pip's) accidental exposure in that lab had done, had been to accelerate an inexorable process. Contrary to even my own (Pip's) advertising, nothing awaited us in the most final and distant and ultimate future but death and decay. And no amount of effort to put a spin on it, that dismal situation, like linking death to sex and making the experience as erotic as possible really quite removed the sting. Unless you went crazy. And I guess some do. I sure did. At least, Pip did. When Cancron got through fucking with us, screwed as my mind my mind my mind already was, I would never give any sort of coherent account of why I suffered so many strange changes, why I lapsed in all aspects of my life, why I felt so intensely loyal (Pip did, he did that) to CANCRON, even after they fired me for having a bad attitude (Pip had a bad attitude) fucked up here and fucked up there and ended up on death row, to make a tedious story somewhat less tedious. I/he shot a pretty co-ed working part time in a convenience store one night. I/he walked in and smiled at her and asked her if she enjoyed Macadamia Nut Butter Delights. I? don't even remember what she said. I? shot her between her ample tits with a .22 automatic from a pawnshop. But Pip wasn't able to enjoy it much because Pip rotted from the inside out with a disease called human life and by that time he was almost blinded and mostly senseless and crazy wild from the horror.
You are probably wondering why Pip didn't kill himself. Pip is afraid to die, That's the short answer.
So! That's why I killed. What's your excuse?