The now seemingly deceased t52.org messageboard sprouted up from a website that previously hosted some high-bandwidth letter posted about some unpleasant messageboard drama. A few days later, once the letter had been mirrored in eighty billion places, the messageboard sprung up. It was entitled "one forum" and no explaination was given except a few cryptic messages posted by the administrator. I used it as a source of stimulus for writing. Eventually, the board lost members and became overrun with spambots, and now appears to have been wiped entirely. The thread I made (which I managed to save) went like this:
funkeh: (aka me)
There wasn't another there at the time. He didn't realise this, however, and went into the changing rooms anyway - a fatal mistake, considering his aversion to pea shooters. It was not the ones who are of them, it is the ones who are of us. He spent his life looking for that delicious postbox sugar. It was at that point that twenty people descended on my terrace. Call me Bob, or william if you prefer. I am not a pawn in your game of checkers. Today is the date we take our bovine distilleries to a new level. Today is the day we utilise for partying- no other plans are accepted.
You fool! You've forgotten everything, haven't you?
I am unsure if that is my name; but I still respond, unsure of his intentions. I wish to find out more. My curiosity is rewarded. "Here you go, Mr. Appleton."
"A free sausage."
It is what my ancestors have been hoping for; for years, we have come to this island on the sixth of june, waiting on times square and hoping that someone will offer us a free meat item. It is an odd dream, and some people think Uncle Ishmael was simply overdoing the pills a little, but we know he was always right.
I treasure it's taste in my mouth; the sausage is exquisite. For years, I have been denied meat, been kept in a small shed and poked at with sticks. All for this wondourous, magical moment when I can stand in the middle of this city and taste the delicious piece of animal carcass that is dropping into my stomach. I look at the man, ready to tell him in words rehearsed a thousand times that I am the messiah of this town, and he shall be my first desciple.
"Lost for words? Great meat, huh?" I nod. "Glad you enjoyed it. But did you know?"
"It's not really meat. It's tofu. And you can buy more at-"
-This man has lied to me. This man has taken all I held dear and mocked it. He has spat on the five generations before me. I did nothing to deserve this. I pull out the small pistol in my jacket pocket, knowing what has to be done.
Now, you know what it is to feel with your heart.
Ha, you will grow to be strong someday.
punkeh: (me again.)
We were six miles east of New Berkshire when we realised we forgot the keys.
"Why the hell? What on earth could make you forget the f**king keys?"
"I thought you had them."
We had to go back, the full five hundred miles back to the border where the large collection of flaming tyres met the even larger collection of flaming books. They hadn't originally been flaming, but this is just how life works around here.
The keys had been left somewhere in the six-mile road between Humphrestoniderforkerist, and Relaeserdorfstadt. It would have taken is six weeks to find the damn thing, but we instantly knew where it was. If it had been a mile below the ground, then perhaps we would have had some luck. But no.
Somewhere in the sky, we noted a small glint between two clouds. Behind it was a blue piece of plastic, and although we couldn't see it, we knew what it said. jeff swore.
"calm down, man. we can just get another one."
"Well yeah, but this had our phone number on it. Don't you know what they can do with phone numbers? I heard once someone got his lunch stolen through the telephone."
"That's nonsense, and you know it." The key seemed to be drifting towards the west. "You'd need a fax machine for that, at least."
(to be continued)