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Cerebral Catfight

Discussion in 'Seasoned Tokers' started by FeelGood, Jun 3, 2004.

  1. Man I'm wayyyyy to stonned to type and entire post but doesn't that name sound awesome? Cerebral Catfight. Someone come up with a good story or post to match that name wins. (what do you win? why, a big mint)
  2. Come on someone take a crack at it. I think the story would be insightful.
  3. Theres no way this one is going to fall into the oblivion.
  4. Once upon a time I took a trip to this strip club called cerebral. There, I saw two chicks slapping the shit out of each other and tearing each others clothes off. It was pretty hot. Then I left. The End.
  5. Bravo. But is this a true story?
  6. No, I made it up on the spot.

  7. Well atleast it's about chicks ripping eachothers clothes off. And seeing how fast you replied, I have come to a conclusion. Your just like me, you have absoloutely nothing to do, am I wrong?
  8. I'm at work and I'm bored. So no, you're not wrong.
  9. er, i'm lit, wtf i'll give her a shot....bbiab with a story..perhaps some visuals too...never know. i'm stoned, you know.
  10. Cerebral Catfight


    “Ow fuck! Fuckfuckfuck!” cursed John, writhing in pain and holding his bloody shin in both hands. Using one to help push his back against the wet, granite tombstone, he cursed again. Once for the concrete bench in front of him he'd smashed his shin into and again for the pouring rain that soaked his once light blue folder, now dark with water and mud, and everything in it.

    Fuck. Everything is in there. Everything, he thought to himself as he rocked back and forth as if it'd stop the stabbing pain in his leg. Well, fuck it. If it's true then it won't matter a damn bit who does or doesn't know about it. I just have to find Laurie. His eyes focused back into reality, watching the raindrops coalesce together again in the muddy puddles. Just like us. Fuck. Just like us. The thought sobered him up a bit more as did all the shouting.

    The cabbie whose cab he'd just exited, well jumped out and sprinted these hundred yards from, had finished his tirade of foreign curses and maniacal arm waving, gotten in, and laid tracks back down the way he'd come. The cemetery had it's own quarter of a block downtown and had long been billed a tourist trap filled with many famous, but falsely labeled tombstones. And THAT goddamned bench, thought John, pulling himself to his feet and beginning the long hobble to Laurie's house.

    After what felt like hours of grueling walking John pressed his thumb onto the glass's green glow below the rain guard. He was welcomed by a friendly chirp and solid thump as the locks slid back, moving the door slightly ajar. It'd taken him fifteen minutes to get here, three spent sitting down to avoid blacking out, and another five remembering which one of these moronic storage areas was hers.

    Not your run of the mill storage areas, these were more like small warehouses with all the amenities one might want and a price to prove it. Didn't really matter for Laurie though, she made a small fortune from her sessions here and lived very nondescriptly on the premises during them. The proprietor made his cut and acquired some of the best smoke the west coast had ever seen, the security was good and everyone was all the better for the situation.

    That's great, but there's not going to be a situation next week, or next month, or next year. Nothing will be here after the Coalescence, John reminded himself. He could feel the gentle, yet insistent, persistent buzz of the hive calling home the wisps of thought from across the human race whilst it slept and woke and ate and worked and dreamed and bled and fucked and cried and tried to get into heaven. Like almost whispers across the ether of our human conscience.

    “'the hell have you been?”

    John was jolted back to reality by a rather angry looking Laurie standing up from behind one of the veg chambers. Damn, nothing more sexual than a beautiful woman hot and sweaty from working a craft she truly loved. That this particular one was quite pissed rather dampened the moment though.

    “Shut up. We gotta talk and turn that radio on will ya.” Not really a question, but most of them weren't anyway.

    “What? Why – “

    “Just….do it. Now dammit!”

    “Alright. Alright. Now where the hell have you been?”, she asked, flipping on the radio. Some fucked up Bjork shit, but it didn't really matter, it was just the noise that mattered.

    “I uh, well, I don't even know to, I , I mean how do you….ummmm, fuck. I , uh, the world is going to end. Soon.”

    The absurdity wrapped her face into the most vivid portrayal of absolute astonishment ever seen. Laurie stood speechless, unable to comprehend what her semi-sort-of-kinda boyfriend had just said.

    Speaking as quickly as possible to beat the impending tirade John blurted, “I swear to all of holy fuck, I'm not lying. I know. We know. I'm one of them and I can't stop it. They know. They've always known. We've always known. It's in us. Encoded. Printed and burned. The instructions, the manual, the layout for our fate.”

    “What?! What the FUCK are you talking about, John? Are you fucking nuts? And what the fuck did you do to your leg? Fucking Christ, get your ass in the bathroom, I'll clean you up and maybe you can make some sense.”

    John headed for the bathroom instinctively; Laurie was not one to disobey when in this mood. It's not like she'd hurt him, but damn, the absolute torture of nagging lectures over the next few weeks is enough to change one's behavior.

    He winced as she, the hot water and the peroxide tortured his shin. The pressure and cool bandages felt much better. Kneeling down, she took his hands into her own on his knees and asked, “Please, tell me what's going on? Just please tell me.”

    John looked like his mind was working overtime and his eyes just darted from his fingers to her fingers to his knee and around again. She stood and led him to the prep/lounge area she'd set up after her first sessions went well. A few minutes and hits later, John was calmed enough to throttle his mind to a few thoughts at a time instead of the earlier maelstrom. The human mind isn't built to take all of this.

    “Okay. This is past fucked up. This is gone. Out. Left field fucked up. Hash oil fucked up. A motherfucking Cerebral Catfight from hell. But here goes…”

    The Meta-Sapiens

    The human race is unique. It is unique in the structure of its DNA and the process of its cerebral areas to hold rational thought. It may not be unique throughout the universe, but certainly on Terra Firma. Let's begin with an analogy first. Take the cells of the human body. Each knows its function and is encode already with the knowledge of where it is supposed to be, what it is supposed to do and how to just that. The liver cell is not aware of the brain, nor the thought that controls the cell. This DNA being distributed throughout the cells has a meta-knowledge of what, exactly, a human being is…even down to the uniqueness of each homo-sapiens.

    Also, note that the human race has many, many members that are not aware of all the others, but play their role just as intended and humanity as a whole moves forward. A huge, timeless Meta-Sapiens comprised of the living, breathing, sweating members of the human race.

    It has realized that the resources of this planet are depleted, we are on reserves and the government has begun a war to garner the last great stash for the last stand. The last ones with gasoline to power its war machine. The last empire of the human race.

    The Meta-Sapiens has begun to Coalesce the hidden patterns, strewn throughout the human race passed to us from the primates, from the lower primates, from the simple, multi-celled creatures, from the single cells of the first inklings of life on this planet. It is pulling the combined knowledge of the human race into a chosen few. The internet is perpetuating this ability to coalesce all the knowledge of the human race into a few beings. The one and only charge of the beings, their only reason for existence is to serve the Meta-Sapiens one purpose: finding the means off of this planet and onto another planet suitable for an evolution similar to the one here on Earth. Just one in many before it.

    Upon completion of transportation method and after finding another suitable planet, the human race is to be angered upon itself to the point of mutual assured destruction. The chosen few, four of them, will leave this planet as it destroys its atmosphere and magnetic belts exposing all life to solar radiation and creating a pitted rock.

    At the new location, the last job of the humans is to create from their bodies the bio-plasma that was in the first pool that created the first inklings of life on so many planets before and after the one called Earth….


    Okay, seriously. I have no idea what the fuck that was. I'm all stoned and listening to some chillout (di.fm if you've not streamed from them..it's nice.) and just writing my ass off.

    John is one the chosen few. Laurie is not (? Fuck, I don't know either). I really have no fucking idea what I was writing, I just got challenged and was all like, oh yeah, I'm on it. Well, you see what happened. A damn shame I tell you.

    Er, ah, h. Christ it's late. I'm goin to bed. Gotta get up early for the Farmer's Market in the morning. Ah, a nice burn of some kind bud and then coffee and donuts and fresh produce and strange, strange hill-folk! W00t!

    Alright, I spell checked that bitch, but I'm not even going to try to grammar/sense check that bish tonight.

  11. this thing ate my italics :(
  12. i have *no* idea...i am rather enjoying reading it this morning though. man, that was fucked up.

    thanks for the welcome though! :)
  13. That was sweet! Very original!
  14. uh, this is messed up
  15. i have no idea what i just read...
  16. probably reeealllly confusing for anyone who was stoned when they read that, but it was pretty good haha.

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