All Contents Copyright © 2003 by Chipmunks are Way Cool, Inc.
This is a story of a man named Ed, graduated from Cornell with ideas in his head. But after some days of seeking out a career, he looked over the city and screamed, "I gotta to get away from here". So he packed up his car with all that he had, and left for the deep woods.....Adirondacks that is....chipmunks...hard labor. Well, for 4 long years he worked in hills, building houses, docks, and stills. Septic tanks, general repair. But soon the deep woods became a bit much, having conversations with ferns and trees, having deep intellectual mind battles with the forest wildlife, spending friday nights down at the local tavern drinking beer, talking about guns and pickups and other essentials of life. Suddenly he was on the downhill slide to becoming a northern red neck....not to be confused with the Northern Red Bill....while out in the woods one evening, he happens upon a wood elf, "Hello little man" quipped our cheery hero, "Bah...said the little man...hey what the hell are you doing with your life...pissing away your Ivy covered education?" "Well", said the Valor nee Ed, "I golly gosh durn believe that is the case! What should I do?" The little man jumped up on a log and said, "Why I do believe you should go to Rochester to become a niteclub DJ, go to Monroe Community college, work for Kodak, and party hearty in the dark underbelly of the city...". After a few nanoseconds of deep contemplation......the response was "Okay Dokey!".....
Being guided by the word of the small green wise one on the planet Patooui, and with his meager possesions in hand, our hero Valor arrives at the planet Perposterous Rochester Minor. Dazzled by the the bright lights and the weird lifeforms, he makes his way to the nearest form rearrangement unit to have a makeover..."when thou is amongst aliens thou shall look alien" the voice of the the forest elf Yoga echoed in his head....so be it...and with the modern technology the transformation is effective....Now he can freely mix with all the other bizarre lifeforms, spending evenings modifying acoustical energy in ways to cause them to move in syncopated funkyness and partaking in the subculture of the lower levels often at great expense of precious neurons. For a time he worked in the Methylene Chloride Mines of Kodak Proximus..but the calling of education did lead him to the technical information implantation sessions at the local mind expansion facility resulting in many letters being added after his name....B.A. A.A.S. (A.S.C.P). But the news of certain attacks by the empire meant that medical personel would be needed so our hero Val Oceanplodder enlisted at the nearest medical dispensing unit, and was put to work as a microbiologist. The unit, well versed in alien lifeforms did not look upon Val as an outsider, but welcomed him with open parental appendages and taught him well for 9 long years.....
It was 11 PM, on that rainy city night, the rain hitting the window like rats thrown from a passing Delta flight on its way into the river. I hadn't seen a dame in weeks, and work was turning as stale as last week's chinese take-out sitting on the t.v. that got one channel...Misery. There was a knock on the door slicing through the damp silence like Yan's Ginsu special. "Who's there?" I yelled from behind my desk..."It's just me Val"....it was just my trusty partner Gato, picking a rat from his take-out carrot cake..."Anything?" We both looked at the phone that sat there as silent as a dead mime. I shook my head, "not a damn case in weeks.." Gato looked out the window and winced as another rodent bounced of the glass, ".you know...maybe we can form a band, and do our own music....I have connections you know....remember that downtown incident...what was his name, the rap music guy.." Val looked up with eyes that had seen
way too many smoking .38 specials in the hands of midgets working for the Hungarian mafia. "Clint, it was Clint, the named is burned into my cerebral layers like smoked salmon on a barbacue grill..., you know, you may have something there Gato, he did promise us 12 inches". Seeing Gato blush, Val added, "A record you dolt, god! seven years without a date and you are like an Albanian shepard during shearing season..." A few weeks later, the dream was real, Val and Gato had a band, a record, a hot review in Billboard Magazine, and a $23.45 royalty check.
Where to now gentle listener? What new quests and adventures lie over the horizons....even he doesn't have a clue....but a change in scene is impending, preparing for the next act in the play of life (oooh waxing poetic)
Off to New Haven I go. Off to New Haven I go. I will be a King Auther Court in a Connecticut Yankee, wee wee (oh dear, ignore that connotation). A real career awaits me, rewards beyond my wildest dreams, piles of gems and gold....
Visit where I work: www.454lifesciences.com
All Contents Copyright © 2003 by Chipmunks are Way Cool, Inc.