Chapter 6: Gen-X

Chapter 6: Gen-X 

Okay, here’s the part in the book that I’ve been waiting for. We know that Serge 714 and the resto f the characters are placed between the two planes, the third and fourth dimensions. The third dimension being what we call reality, and the fourth dimension being the next plane higher than we are now. We also know that both dimensions clashed together in the story. Serge was becoming an X-man, the antihero that was a zero. That means that Serge is slowly becoming insane. The drugs he takes (marijuana, alcohol, and hallucinogens) help him remember some things but everything is still unclear. This book is written sporadically because you know that under the influence of drugs, one cannot perceive time and space correctly. So, if you can’t follow, don’t worry. It’ll come to you in time (a little arrogant, are we?) Each story is like a different brick in the wall of confusion. Oh, and by the way, all the characters of the Alkadruggies are really Serge’s personalities. Nobody really exists. They are all the building blocks of his alter ego. The Mutated Rivethead 714 in the world of his mind, does exist. No one else has any idea of what is happening to him. The actual growth of TMR is based on the personification of the nineteen-eighties. Most of the influence came from music, the element that calms the savage beast. You will be able to understand if your imagination is unlimited. The rest of the book will become more graphic and confusing, maybe not. Your instincts, imagination, morals, lack of faith or faith in God will determine. Just a little note from the author. (that’s not my name) 

 

A.D. 1928 

Rockin in Paradise 

Styx 

The Orbitron Crew set up that night of Holy Thursday one of the first big bashes of the decade. Little did they know that another visit from the 4th dimension was going to happen. William J. Spazberry (AKA Eddie Maiden) was with Ruffcut, bringing down the speakers followed by Orbitron (AKA Attitude Bad) carrying his heavy duty Rock-N-Metal collection. The high priest along with Rob the Punkrocker from the Barbwire Babies (a local punk band) directed the Apaches to place large amounts of beer in the Rock Hall in preparation for the party. The Alkadruggies were nearby and you could hear the sweet melodic sounds through the trees in the woods. TMR says, “Hey Elder, hear that?” 

“Elder replies, “Yes?” 

Ace says, “No, it’s Judas Priest.”  

Art crept up the side of the cliff and said “Big party- let's crash it!” 

TMR said, “I got plenty of herb.” 

Elder said, “I have got hash and the mask.” Ah yes, the Mask. A contraption sold at East West. It was blue and had a bowl at the end. It was intended for tobacco, but A.D twisted its use. The s**t was nice!! 

“We shall join you over there,” said Ace. 

“Where are you heading?” Asked the Elder as he pissed on a dead tree.  

“To the liquor store to get some Jack Daniels, Rum and Coke,” answered Art. 

TMR said, “Okay you guys, it’s shrinking time in Pepperland.” So, the quartet split up in twos and TMR and The Elder both headed to the riot. There were people everywhere. All in little groups like at most parties. 

“Let’s check out the girls,” said the Elder 69 as he raised his hammer and saw a bunch of honeys sitting on the courtyard wall next to the Rock Hall. Lee and Serge approached the dulcet females with persuasive stealth. 

“Hi there, girls. I snatch kisses and vice versa,” The Elder 69 introduces himself smiling. 

“Pig!” shouts Linda Fish as she smirks with a liking.  

Before they could recover, TMR comes out with, “Ever kissed a rabbit between the ears?” 

Sherry says, “No.” 

“Want to?” 

“No.” 

Carol, her feisty redheaded, big-boobed friend edges her on. “Go ahead, say yes.” Soon all the girls were pressering her to say  lies. 

“Okay, okay, yes!” She belts out. 

So TMR didgs into his pants pockets and  pulls his pockets inside out. “Go ahead.” The girl gets embarraassed. “Don’t blush,” he says. “It’s only a joke and since you’re such a good sport, I’ll light up with you.” He rolled a zeppelin and the whole group got wasted. “Let’s move on, Elder. Bye girls, see you later?” 

“Sure, you cuties!” They bellowed seductively as Serge and Lee head toward the next group. They ran into Bones, a dealer. This guy was really twiggy. He was a white Punkrocker skinhead that looked like JJ from Good Times except he had blue eyes and Mick Jagger lips.  

“Hey guys, I’ve got hits.” 

“Of what?” 

“Mesc.” 

“How much?” 

“Two for three dollars.” 

“I’ll take six,” says The Elder. “Here TMR, my treat.” 

“Thanks, dude,” TMR pops the hits. “I need some beer to wash it down. I’ll be right back.” He heads towards the beer and asks, “How much?” 

Eddie says, “Contribute five dollars and you can drink all night.” 

“Hey, not bad.” TMR gives him the five and takes two beers. “Thanks.” 

“Any time,” Eddie answers with a drunken smile.  

TMR starts to head back when out of the corner of his eye he spots Ace and Art returning from the store, loaded with goodies. “Hey!” TMR yells. “Over here!” They acknowledge, so TMR heads toward The Elder 69 to hand him the beer.  

“Thanks, Buddy,” Elder replied. 

“No problem.” The quartet huddled. The Elder whips out the Mask and puts a hunk of hash inside and everybody takes turns inhaling.  

Ace exclaims, “Wow! This s**t is hodeious, maan!” After the hash was, spent, we killed off the Rum and Coke. TMR felt like dancing. He entered the Rock Hall to find a crowd squashed together sardine like slam dancing. TMR dives into the crowd and starts to dance. By now, his drunken shuffle did not matter anymore because everyone was loaded. The High Priest of Paradise suggested to do the Fitz, a very unusual dance in which everybody lays on the floor and shakes as if having an epileptic seizure. Probably stolen from the movie Animal House. The music was being played by DJ Tony ‘Ruffcut’ Benitez. He mixed punk rock, hard rock, and heavy metal with fluidity. The adrenaline shot up the Mesc high fueling a full blown trip. Serge was outside the Rock Hall.  

Skylab comes hopping over to him and says, “Hey TMR, you wanna play Dig-Dug?”  

Serge burped, “Sure.” From the concrete ledge two joysticks formed. They started playing and a car took a piss out of its tailpipe making a hydrant run away. The joysticks turned into snakes and one of them bit Serge on the arm. It felt like when ice cream drips down from your hand to your elbow. The night seemed to fast forward and soon the party was over. Yes, TMR got so roasted that when he went home, he hit every pole to count how far he was from his house. The sidewalk concrete felt like wet earth. He was turning the corner of Forty-First and Park Avenue when he looked up at this brick tower that stands by a reservoir. It glowed all different colors and it danced- more like rippled. Then a real quick vision as he saw TMR rescuing a fair maiden, but the vision was short lived when a bolt of lightning struck and it started to drizzle. The raindrops were glowing in the dark and some wouldn’t hit the ground. The stray droplets would pitch upward inches from the firmament and smack him on the face mocking him before each tiny impact. He hurried on home. “Three poles to go.” he says. “Ah, home sweet home,” and he stumbled through the door. He looks for food. He uncovers the pots to find delctables inside of them. “Um, steak and rice!” He makes himself a hearty plateful with a tall glass of Coca Cola. 

Then it happened. The walls started to talk as faces formed out of them. They started to moan like a giant mass of death. Serge’s arms looked as they were miles long, like a cartoon. They turned into what looked like old geezer’s arms, all dry and wrinkled. The food looked like gray spaghetti with dead mice, old and mutilated. TMR got up, went to the bathroom and threw water on his face and when he looked in the mirror, his face looked like that of angelic features. “Am I dead?” He asked himself, then the angelic face started to dry up and his skin fell off until it revealed a skull with the white withered hair. The walls started to talk again and the door shook and rattled. Green thick slime (like the blob) started to ooze out of the sides of the door until it fell off the hinges and a large but deformed TMR came at him. He yelled in terror and closed his eyes to brace himself. Suddenly, it got quiet. Everything went back to normal. TMR sighed, “whew,” opened the door and went back to the kitchen. He sat down and his food was crawling with maggots. He heard ‘New York’ by Frank Sinatra in his head. He got an uncomfortable urge to sneeze, when he did, his food looked normal again. TMR mutters, “Man, what a bad trip!” 

He gets a nice heap on his fork and when he bites into it, he spits it out all over the place. “Yuck! F*****g liver!” he yells angrily. “F**k, f**k, f**k! F*****g s**t!” He throws away the food, dish and all and stomps into the bathroom. He looks in the mirror and shaves the sides of his head, Mohawk style and goes to bed. He is unable to sleep at first and replays events all over again in his mind. He fights a war aiding the Gworbians against the Evil Darv Nader. He rescues the lovely Gworbian princes Anode Descrusia, a pink colored humanoid that rules over the Gworbian race. He has sex with her and has a nocturnal emission. Serge gets up and cleans himself. Her crashes back to bed. Friday morning he gets up, goes to the bathroom, and says, “Oh no!” when he looks at himself in the mirror. He got dressed and went up to the Restaurant by the school and everybody liked the new look. Bow Wow Wow may want candy, but Sheena is a Punk Rocker now! Now, you the reader. Is this boy mentally deranged? No, I don’t think so. He’s just suffering from the mutation that’s taking place. Unfortunate for him. 

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[Davidgeo]

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