Posted by NL on August 24, 2005 at 16:41:44:
Spare Me These Complications!
JOURNAL ENTRY: We interrogated him so hard he died. That is, my partner on this job killed him. I had nothing to do with it, being a mere trainee. I hope the hell they take that into consideration "above". Then we shot him full of thanatose-ase, which brought him back to life. Immediately he began to blather about the "other side", but we finally succeeded in getting the information out of him, pertaining to the next scheduled terrorist strike. We, or rather my partner, copied down the particulars and sent them by special courier "above", where, presumably, someone would figure out what to do with the information. When he died the second time we made it permanent, disabling the central nervous system by pounding the suspect's brain into slush with our neat aluminum baseball bats. That part of the job I like, at least. At least, I haven't done much of that before, at least, I haven't killed anyone with a baseball bat before. I would have liked it better if we had not had the need to use the anti-thanatic drug because that part gives me nightmares. I know they don't much like it, "above" when we have to resort to thanatose-ase. They say, and this part I refuse to believe, that when you use that stuff, even when you kill them again by pulverizing the cns, if you wait around long enough the arms and legs start twitching and the body starts moving around again, like a worm, and if you cut it up into pieces the pieces start oozing around-- but the graves detail picks up the corpses quick, see, and they do something with them and that's it as far as I'm concerned. I'm not one of those morbid types. I bet that's why they hired me. I'm not morbid and I have a cheerful disposition.
JOURNAL ENTRY: I'd like to note here that my partner on this job is insane. He performs his interrogations with electrified musical instruments, like clarinettes, tubas, sousaphones, etc. This makes me believe that he doesn't take his job very seriously. In our department, an interrogation is typically conducted by spreading the subject, naked, over the wires in a Steinway Grand. High voltages are then applied to the wires until the subject talks. But my partner stuffs an electric piccolo up the subject's ass. Watch this man! Plus, I need to watch my back. As usual,I dreamed about wealth, money, and sex-- and food. I dreamed about having something to eat besides cracked wheat and oatmeal, those wartime rations we've all gotten tired of.
When I finally get to take a vacation I like to watch TV news and watch all the bombs going off, especially at night. Sometimes they show a pretty nice looking dame getting carried off on a stretcher, and you can tell she's dead but her blouse is open, her boobs are all floppy, and her skirt is hiked up so you can see the snatch. I think the cameramen do that on purpose to keep up public interest. Well, it sure keeps up MY interest! HA HA HA! The war's been going on so long that it's just getting boring sometimes, so I expect a lot more emphasis on sex, and that's a pretty good idea, I think. But something bad got into me, and I don't know what it was but maybe bad reception on all the usual channels had something to do with it. All I could get to come in clear was PBS which I normally don't watch because they say it's subversive. But I had to watch something! I sure as hell wasn't gonna venture out of my bunker complex because I happened to know as a result of my interrogation work that a really big and nasty terror attack was due anytime, anywhere! Let the bombs go off and THEN I'd go out, maybe try to find a whore somewhere, brave enough to risk being out at night. Of course, they don't usually bomb the places where the whores hang out. But that could change! Enjoy it while you can, is what I say! On the PBS channel they were talking about the war, but, hell, who isn't? Who doesn't? And I caught this phrase: "...and predatory steakhouses..." Good God Allmighty! It fit! There was still one steakhouse operating, in the fortified area down by the shopping mall, and I never DID feel comfortable there! For one thing, they are VERY expensive, and the presence of "steak" even though it might be made out of processed soy beans, was questionable in this time of war, when all you could get most of the time was cracked wheat and oatmeal-- standard wartime rations. And I don't think you can build a fake steak out of stuff like that that would taste as good as the stuff they served at the Freedom Ranch steakhouse, and if it was made out of cracked wheat and oatmeal, or even soy meal, why would it cost so much? Wow! You couldn't trust anyone, really, because anyone could be a terrorist, or subversive in some subtle way, and sometimes the very people who looked so innocent, like some bum in the street, you'd hear about them exploding and taking out a whole city block! Sometimes the cops shot people dead and asked questions later but, hey, when anything could go boom at any time, and when anybody might turn out to be plotting against you, I could dig it. It's war, isn't it? Fortunately, because of my job in the slaughter house/interrogation rooms I'd been taught the special secret signs by which you can tell who is on your side and who is not, but only if you are communicating with people who are in the know, working at jobs in the anti-terror war and communicating with the people "above". Although, in order to keep everything secure, the signs have to be very subtle, sooo very subtle that sometimes you can't easily tell whether you've gotten the correct counter-sign or not. But, hey, just think how bad it would be if the terrorists caught onto this system of secret signs! There'd be total chaos! Nothing would be safe! But I could easily believe that steakhouses could be predatory. Steakhouses like that could bring the very foundations of the Free World crashing down!
JOURNAL ENTRY: Today I smuggled an aerosol can of the anti-thanatic drug out of the workplace. I sure hope I don't get caught. Beat some guy's brains out today but not before he revealed the information I needed. I don't work with a partner anymore. I think I'm not sure about that partner business anymore either. A lot of times, when you get deep into the anti-terror police organization they do a lot of training while you sleep, in simulated situations with a speaker under your pillow. They might have done that to me. You just can't be sure! But if you can be sure, then the terrorists can be sure, and if THEY are sure, then chaos will break out! We'd all be doomed! But today I worked independently and when I was finished sending the information "above" by writing it on a 3x5 card and putting it on top of a mailbox, I snuck around until I found a can of the anti-thanatic drug in convenient aerosoal form. And I stole it. You know, a nice thing about this stuff, if you can see anything nice in something so creepy, is that if you are not dead you can sniff it and just get a nice buzz. You have to be dead before it does the horrible stuff. Out on the war front they sometimes have problems with leakages from the interrogation tents contaminating dead bodies nearbye and then you almost can't bury them-- no, they come crawling out of the graves, clawing and ripping, and digging themselves out like some kind of giant man-size rotting mole. I've heard of guys in graves detail whacking at hands and heads as they pop out of the ground, hitting with shovels and spades and still they keep on coming. Wow! Am I ever glad I don't have a job like that!
JOURNAL ENTRY: Dear God, I am about to do something very brave but also very dangerous for my country. I've packed my Glock 9mm into my knapsack and I've put in a lot of spare clips. I've made some pipe bombs and I've got those too. I've been sniffing the dreaded anti-thanatic drug from an aerosol can and I feel pretty clear now and have a sense of purpose. I'm about to head for that predatory steakhouse-- it's not too far from here so I'll walk. I'm planning to kill as many people as possible and then spray them with thanatose-ase and question them about their terroristic plots while they are still confused from having been murdered and then brought back to life. I expect I'll get to the bottom of this business and perhaps save my beloved country from much agony and needless death-- we sure don't need more of those awful bombs going off anywhere-- damn terrorists! Besides that, this oughta be good for a promotion, and maybe even a special commendation, for valor, or something like that.