chapter 1 part next

Damn sink the student muttered, as he dropped the blade (dripping with the foul excretions of the slime).

He sat back down, and poured himself another cup of coffee. He liked mornings like this.

A Special's song from the battered compilation tape in his jambox grabs his attention.

Is this the in place to be? What am I doing here? Watching the girls go by, spending money . .

A notebook sits open on the messy kitchen table full of felt tip pen and wild doodling, full of notes no one will ever read.

I'm alone,
three thousand miles from any real friends -the people you can say ''fuck'' around. People you'd die for, or maybe try to save when the Earth blows it's self to shit.

They aren't here.

But it's as if I can feel them, all that way. Laughing without me, crying without my sympathy. I can feel them changing and growing and forgetting me and my childhood. I don't have the American dream, or some kind of work ethic, or sin to wallow in, no real guilt even ( but it's available - lets twitch on the tv and watch some starving children on the religion channel.) Nope. No hate left. I'm alone. I only miss the people.

WELCOME TO ADVENTURE THEATER, WHERE LIFE IS HARD

DEATH IS BEHIND YOU, AND YOU ARE NEVER OUT OF BEER.

This week: the SkaRat meets . . .

SkaRat was extremely bored.

"To be really bored is to be miserable, to be miserable is a waste of life he mumbled to himself as he slipped on his white|ngblack checked jacket. SkaRat tightened the laces on his shiny red dancing shoes, slipped on appropriate shades and looked at himself in the mirror.

"Cool, cool, kool" he whispered. For SkaRat, life is a constant monologue and you should say What you like when you like. SkaRat slipped an unopened pack of smokes into his jacket, locked his front (and only) door, chained it, flipped off the lights. He opened the window with his left and slipped through.

Being that there was no fire escaper SkaRat was forced to hang to the gutter and downspout to avoid becoming a messy mass of dead meat on the alley floor below. SkaRat hung by his left hand so he could light a cigarette with his right. He glanced casually over the city, good weather tonight, good Weather to wander the streets , see some night magic. He held his cigarette with his tail as he put the cigarette box back in his right hand jacket pocket.

His arm was beginning to get tired so he swung over five feet

or so (letting go of his grasp at just the right time). Landing with acrobatic precision he found himself on a convenient balcony.

"I wonder who lives here were the SkaRat's thoughts.

A mysterious young cat, with hypnotic eyes and infectious smile was looking at SkaRat. SkaRat had already been smiling, but he was enjoying the her lovely energy.

"like something ?" Said SkaCat.

"Champagne, Ginger ale? Perhaps some whiskey?" She continued with her perfect voice. " Perhaps some whiskey ?" " Got any brandy?" "Brandy? . . hmmm I thought you'd be a martini drinker. Oh well..."

Inside the apartment window, was an opulent apartment with a party in progress. She lifted the silver cover off of the tray next to the stereo, revealing two snifters each half full of a rich amber liquid..

" Only 10 years old . . . It's all I've got in the house."

"Perfect," said SkaRat.

As he was finishing up the last sip of his drink, a large crashing noise was heard from the coat room. There were screams, then laughter and noises of people playing with the ice in the bottom of their glasses. When the smoke cleared. Fuzzy Bunny was standing in the doorway.

(Fuzzy Bunny is a 4 foot high rabbit with a drivers license and an unreality gun.)

Fuzzy Bunny said, Mr. Kurtz . . He ded."

"He always lies, and he's always right. Whispered SkaRat to Skacat."

The fuzzy bunny loved to drive . . .

The white and black boat of a Cadillac slid through the evening, brights on and 2-Tone Ska music (some would say dangerously loud music) twisting and flinging through the crevices of the travelers mind. A red light and the white shine, pure and glowing with the reality of it's cleanness in a dirty world. The black and white checkered top of this Ska-mobile folded back to the hum of powerful engines. The SkaRat jumped out onto the hood. The fuzzy bunny popped a pink pill (which might as well have been a breath mint - but wasn't) in his grinning mouth and slammed the accelerator. The dexterous rodent was gripping the hood with his fingernails. He wondered if the flask of scotch would spill out of his pocket.

The Fuzzy Bunny (it seems) was mad, mad as hell and determined to out-race destiny and sunlight.. Rejecting fate and accepting the challenge of driving faster than the sun could rise! the Fuzzy Bunny cranked the car into high gear.

"POWER, SPEED, DEATH!" Shouted the bunny.

"Fly low and accelerate in the turns!" commanded SkaRat. "Hey,

like - watch out for that bank" The Bunny, deft at the wheel, smiled evil-ly and hit his new

booster rockets. The car stereo played the song "Little Bitch" as loud as possible. They slammed through the blue mirrored glass doors of the Mutual Bank and Accountancy building. Fragments of glass, a windstorm of mirrored shrapnel.

ONE ! TWO ! SkaRat jumped loose of the speeding car, almost caught his balance on the wet pavement, slid 15 feet on loose gravel, and fell.

''Uncool'' .

He found himself at the bottom of a deep ditch that hid at the road side.

SkaRat sat up very slowly, his back ached like it'd been massaged by a ball peen hammer. Trying desperately to regain his sense of direction and shake off this monday morning like daze - he stood up and took a small sip from the champagne glass he still held in his hand. (it had but one sip left.) He took a long sweet whiff of the evening, and headed off into the wilderness.

The humanoid/rodent took an exploratory stroll down the mystery ditch that chance had placed him in. SkaRat kind of dug being in the great outdoors for a change, even though he rarely left the warm protection of the city. But, this was a rare and unexpected occasion. SkaRat struck a scraggly wooden match against the bottom of his shoe. The match bloomed into a nice round flame, that would never blow out in the wind.

"This is/was and can not be a real place", He realized, talking to no one in particular. He checked his pockets for a reliable anti-depressant, and found nothing. Only one rational choice came to his mind - run like hell.

SkaRat stood his ground. Removing his sun-glasses with his tail, he filed his claws in the most non-uptight manner he could produce for a situation like this.

SUDDENLY.

With a huge noise resembling a sonic boom, a white-neon door blasted'open - sending a rectangle of flashing light over his red clad body.

The sign said:

CLUB BOURGEOIS FACADE

"Oh wow, a magic-nightclub springing out of the crust of the earth how convenient" [ CONVENIENT: 1. Appropriate or favorable to one's comfort, purpose or needs. 2. Easy to reach : accessible ] The SkaRat could smell the stench of plastic, wombats and fratboys. He was in danger deluxe.

The jukebox played an obscure Boomtown Rats tune: Drink to the bitch and we'll dance for awhile, if you can't do the module, you'll have to try the slide it was all cool enough if you had the jazz. The night was still young and it was all we had.

Our Rat protagonist pushed the candy neon french doors open.