Mini-fiction by John Iwaniec aka taxigringo

Wednesday, February 05, 2014

A schizophrenic journey in San Antonio

About this time of year in 1999 I became psychotic in conjunction with a threat and much stress.  It was a long process to get my mental balance back and part of that process was to write an account of the experience in the form of a fictional adventure.  Now that I've regained my confidence I can tell you that it was almost all true and in fact some of the more fantastic experiences have not been written.  The reader should be able to see a dual perspective: one from a normal explanation of events and the other from the mind of a person with paranoid schizophrenia caught up in a hallucinagenic and delusional psychosis.  Even though I did not begin to post these events on the Yahoo message board under Social Sciences>Fantasy in San Antonio until three years later I've decided to leave the writing and gramatical flaws in place to keep the original emotional effect.

12/20/03  They say San Antonio is such a clean city, so charming? I'll tell you the real story of this city. To begin with it's a psychotronic concentration camp: a place where the controllers use electronic media and visual media to control the people.  Only a few of us have broken free from this hypnotic influence, and almost without exception, we live on the street by our wits.  This is the story of a man who resisted the psychotronic control.
12/20/03  As I walk through the city the sounds bring to mind a jungle.  Instead of monkeys, birds and insects it is the voices of tires squeeling, horns honking, and overhead music in almost every store.  The sounds have a rhythm, and dare I say, a  composition.  I've been listenening and observerving.  I've learned to anticipate what comes next.  Some might call it instinct, but no, the music of the street has become as familiar as a song.  I watch people unconciously respond to the music.  They unknowingly change direction on cue like they were a flock of birds.
12/20/03  I've been wandering about the city on foot like a detective gathering clues.  I don't have any money, but my hunches led me into Chacho's, a Mexican restaurant.  On the wall are paintings of people on the Riverwalk having a festive time.  The only thing is--the people have no flesh.  They are all skeletons in clothes.  I leave and notice that  people I pass do not seem to see me.
I wonder if they are human.  Everything is so predictable and automatic.  I get bold and approach these maniquin-like people and do outrageous things, and they smile.  They have not been programed for such a situation.  Then I really get close and notice they have no smell.
12/21/03  Clues and evidence continues to build.  The Yucca plant growing wild next to USAA is just too perfect. I pull on one of the sheaves.  It doesn't tear loose. Using all of my strength I rip it from the plant. I don't want to believe it; it is of an aritificial material with numerous small wires imbedded.  I keep examining it yet it is no illusion.

12/29/03  A theory begins to form in my mind. Whatever entity is conducting this pychotronic dance, part of the agenda is to isolate every individual who still has independant thoughts. At the Exxon station there are fine crystals floating on the surface of the coffee. The overhead music torments me as I study the employees. They appear to be human but behave as androids: unresposive to any personal social signals. I get a sense that they are afraid to make contact with me under the scrutiny of the video cameras.  They are hoping that I succeed; I just know it, but they will not expose their awareness.  Some of them are completely given over to the hypnotic control of the music and chemicals while others cling with quiet desperation to what is left of their identity. Allowing for the possibility that I may be having an optical illusion I go to my apartment to devise a conclusive test.
 After boiling tap water in a clean coffee carafe the crystalline substance begins to surface. I continue to boil down the water and when all of the water is gone a slippery white powder remains. I would expect an alkaline residue, but this substance is of a nature I have never seen.  I know that the water is contaminated with a chemical hypnotic. What has been the been the effect on me? Stepping outside of my apartment on I notice that there is a cat watching me. Something is odd. The cat's movement is unnatural.  I go back to my apartment; the cat has followed me inside. It walks stiffly through the apartment and scans each room. It seems to be looking for something. Something isn't right; I pick up the cat by the fur between its shoulders. Being a kindly sort, I give the odd animal some support on its bottom with my other hand. As I look at the cat a sick feeling comes over me. The animal's eyes are cameras. I am on video! Almost catatonic from the discovery I finally place the cat in a closet. I don't want to believe things have come this far. Someone is remotely controling the cat which obviously has a brain implant with a receiver and transmitter.  A sickening anxiety infects me as I feel overwhelmed by the unknown sinister entity. 

At last I find my courage and retrieve the cat.  When there is nowhere left to retreat it is time to go on the offensive.  I look into the rectangelar eyes and speak to the hiden microphone that the controllers have surely included.  "My my, what interesting eyes you have, little kitty! I bet that someone would pay me $1000 for those eyes." I then place the cat back into the closet.  It is an Orwellian world I now live in.
01/03/04  An aquaintance comes and removes the cat. I've quit my place of work. Am hardly able to eat as heightened senses show that my groceries are unfit for consumption. I walk two miles to the H.E.B. on Wurzback and I-10 to buy water. Everywhere I go there are signs of an alterered state. No sir, I am not talking about an altered state of mind but an altered State. Overall there is the appearance of the US as I used to know it. Closer examination reveals that cameras are everywhere. I do not want to cross the street against the crosswalk light.  They will arrest me.  They know that I know. After pushing the walk button and waiting the WALK light refuses to accomodate me.  They are watching me and I can feel their delight at my dilemma.  I will go down fighting. After counting to 60 I boldly cross the red light.  They are the ones who are the lawbreakers.  They are the ones who have broken all the constitutional covenants.  They are the violators.  I will not roll over for them.  If I accomplish nothing else I will make them show their hand. 
It occurrs to me that the policemen are in the same predicament as I and even worse as they find themselves doing the unknown controller's dirty work. 
In the store I picked up Hill Country distilled water and a wilted carrot that did not have the death smell of the better looking produce in pristine condition. Smells, I find so few natural smells. With the passing of time I would come to sniff objects like a dog. 
Day by day my senses heightened.  I would come to see objects in brilliant hues of color and smell became my prime sense of discerning real people from the androids. In the light of the monstrous changes all my emotions are blunted and have gone beyond a concern of life and death. With increasing intensity I have a mission.
(edidted to here on 1/4/09)

01/03/04  Billboards are a bit different in San Antonio than other Texas cities and towns. Walk around and notice them a bit more closely. In particular are those with a red, blue and yellow format. Let your mental focus relax and you might wonder if the Car Nation board has a dual message. With that thought you might start to notice the peculiar traffic patterns. Light traffic when it should be rush hour, localized heavy traffic without reason. So many late model cars in a city of low income service employees. Look at the advertisements at the churches offering car washes with bug removal. Could it be that someone suspects that their car has geopositioning sensors implanted. Could it be that such a devise is wired to another that can stall the vehicle? Just try to leave the city of San Antonio and believe that fender bender, or that sudden traffic jam that caused your car to overheat is a coincidence. There is a group from a particular profession which I will not reveal that drive restored cars made before 1984. Ever notice how it is always someone in an older car that comes to your assistance. Oh Yeah!. World Pest control? Another cute billboard. Same color scheme. Wendy's rules the night. Same color scheme. So what you say. I'll tell you what. There are entities (corporate, international, governmental?) orchestrating business practices that have a purpose beyond business. In a city that is the third most popular tourist destination with 7 military bases, it is the medical center that is the prime source of the city's income. Go there and watch 100,000 black grackles that make Hitchcock's movie THE BIRDS seem tame. I once played with the sentiment that each of these birds represents the soul of a baby aborted on the sixth floor. I have come to find out a truly ominous reason for their unseemly presence.
01/04/04  I know that they know that I know. Going out from my apartment early this morning I'm struck by the fact that the whole ground before my apartment is littered with acorns. It is completely out of proportion with the few Oak trees nearby. The birds dropped them. Of course. They are small explosives dropped by real birds(?) directed by the controllers. At this point I have taken the position, what will be will be. I step on the acorns and nothing happens. I go back into my apartment on the second floor and begin to preach in a loud voice from the balcony. I preach about the cat, the billboards, music and beepers, etc. I conclude with: Honk your horn if you want me to preach. Immediatly I hear a horn honk. It must be understood that here in Texas many still understand the preacher to mean a gun. I pick up my Chinese wooden flute and proceed forth. Being the 14th day of October only one day remains to file my IRS tax return. The fifteenth is the deadline of my last extention. Walking down Huebner Rd. to Fredricksburg Rd. the traffic is out of all propotion. As I continue my six mile march to the IRS office on Callaghan just inside the 410 Loop honking horns add grim determination to my mission. I feel a little weak from lack of food and thirsty from insuficient water. The necessity of what I must do overrides my body's complaint.
(I may or may not continue with this post in the future.  Right now it is a bit much for me to retrieve the material.)

All hail gringo

The pill bugs were born from eggs in the dirt thrown into the composter. They had never known any other world than the dark, tumbling composter. By the benevolence of Taxigringo they thrived and multiplied. Day by day Der Gringo tossed in produce peelings and weeds which they enjoyed in their predator free world.
Gringo understood that a day would come when he needed to let the compost mature and let their mortal bodies also decompose to become food for the garden. Gringo played with a thought: Suppose when he opened up the composter each day the pill bugs stopped their activities and with one voice exclaimed, "All hail Gringo, benefactor of the composter." Would he then make a way for them to enter the larger world of their ancestors and perpetuate more generations?  Quickly Der Gringo put away the thought with the notion that he might do that anyway. The poop the bugs left behind would be enough to fertilize the garden soil.
He went into the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee and studied the bubbling airlock on the beer fermentor.  Countless millions of yeast cells were wildly eating malt sugar and multiplying to produce beer.  When the fermenting was done Gringo would use the remaining yeast to make compost tea, again for the garden.  
A repeating pattern dawned on Gringo as he wondered about own benefactor and his own purpose and destiny.

Sunday, November 25, 2012


ONE FOR THE BOOKS September 08, 2007

Charles walked up to Lillian’s desk and patiently waited for her to acknowledge him. Lillian let him wait an awkwardly long time. "Yes," she said condescendingly to the young library technician.

"Miss Jones, I was wondering if I might take off a bit early this evening. All of the returns have been shelved; I was invited to a party tonight."
"Sorry, Charles, I would like you to read the reference shelves tonight. Please do a good job and straighten the stacks when you are done with that." Lillian smiled at him insincerely, knowing that reading the shelves, also known as putting the books in proper order, was the most unpleasant work a technician could be assigned. Charles said nothing; he resentfully walked to the reference section.
"Ha ha ha ah ha ha...," loud belly laughter came from the back of the library. It unnerved Lillian as if a demon was looking into her soul. At last she rose to deal with the disrupting noise.
At the back she found an athletic forty year old man reading a Calvin and Hobbs cartoon book. She barked an order, "Keep it quiet or leave the library, other option." Robert looked up to see a handsome woman with a scowl on her face. Sensing a mystery, he was cautious to respond. "Ain't you being kind of bossy in your old age?"
Lillian did not expect a stand off. Men usually retreated from her unveiled contempt. "You're as old as me. You know better. Are you going to stay quiet or do you want to tell it to the police?"
Staring with disbelief at the hostile woman he blurted out, "Yes! Let's invite the police to our little get together." Immediately Robert regreted his tone. There was more to this woman than he understood. Something of a serious nature was amiss.
Lillian did an about face, marched to her office and closed the door. Tears exploded from her eyes; weakly she dropped to her knees.
She knew she was emotionally sick, yet she also knew that psychiatrists could do nothing for her other than prescribe a pharmaceutical cocktail to blunt memories and feelings. The tears became accompanied by sobbing and by the time she let herself fall prone to the floor sobs became cries. Loud wails were followed with the sound of blubbering, "Mommy, I love you. Daddy, I love you. Bobby, I love you."
Robert had entered the office; Charles stood staring from the entrance. Robert kneeled before the emotionally shattered woman and tenderly touched her face.
"Get away from me!" She shrieked repeatedly as she backed away from him. Robert had never seen such terror in a person's face. Quickly, he led Charles  outside the office and left Lillian alone in her office.
Robert trusted a gut feeling that told him it would pass. He then looked at his watch and decided that if she did not come around in ten minutes he would call 911. Looking through the glass partition, he saw her rise and find her composure. At last she entered the main room and spoke to Charles in a distant voice. "Charles, you may take off early. Forgive me for having been so unkind to you." She then turned to Robert. "Sir, I apologize for being I don't apologize. But, go do what you want. It won’t matter to me anymore."
Robert knew. He knew because he had seen that look before...he knew that look from ten years ago when he saw it in the mirror and several times since. "How do you plan to do it?" Robert said solemnly.
At this Lillian looked carefully into his eyes. They were moist to the point of tears. Robert's eyes seemed to reflect the center of her heart. How could he know? How could this be?
Lillian straightened. She didn't care about appearance anymore. The hostility she felt toward men didn't matter anymore. There was nothing to prove.
"I'm done. It's over. God will forgive me. It doesn't matter how I will do it. It is time." The plug was pulled. The cat was out of the bag. She couldn't stop herself from talking if she tried. "Some people seem to heal. I never did. It's not about forgiving. Twenty-eight years have gone by and the wound is still open. It's on my face. It's in my voice. I don't want to hurt people anymore. At my best, I hurt people." She was surprised at her words. They came from an unfamiliar voice.
Sadness came over Robert's face. "I don't blame you. I also plan to go. It's been a long time coming. I agree: it doesn't matter how you do it. I only asked because I thought it might be easier to have company."
Lillian looked puzzled. "Are we talking about suicide? If we are, then what reason do you have? I haven't laughed since I was a girl. You were having a ball tonight. It's the end. It's over for me."
"Ha," Robert laughed softly. "Go figure, I'm not afraid to tell you I plan to kill myself, but I don't have the courage to tell you why."
"Let me guess," Lillian snapped. You killed a nice family and now you don't like the way you feel."
"I need to sit down." They walked to a couch, both feeling as if they were in a fast river that was taking them somewhere beyond a point of return.
Everything was so strange. Even on a Friday night there where usually some patrons in the library. It was empty except for her and Robert.
"Lily was brutally raped," she began by speaking of herself in the third person. "It was worse than I can tell; I've never told it before. Lily was only twelve years old." The memories came vividly. She paused until muscles in her throat relaxed and allowed her to continue. "My family never came to visit me in the hospital. When I got out they told me. They told me...Mom, Dad, my younger brother, Bobby...they where all killed by a reckless driver. Lily died. In a real sense Lily died, and I am the biological tissue that remains. My heart and soul died with that twelve year old girl." The woman without realizing it had clasped on to Robert's hand. Tears washed down her face.
Since the bad event she had never felt anything but revulsion toward all men. She did not understand why she was now letting Robert look into her heart. When she saw her hand in his it seemed as though she were watching a movie.

"Talk to me." Lily said as she lifted Robert's hand. "Just what is the evil thing that you did?"
Robert hesitated to respond.   Looking at Lily's face he knew that she had no clue as to how beautiful she looked.  He was no longer looking at a bitter librarian with a bad attitude but at the most beautiful woman in the world. He tried to look for physical imperfections in her face but could not find any. Could he be hallucinating? Tender emotions were welling within him.
Taking a deep breath, Robert touched his other hand to his crotch and stammered. "It's gone. All of it's gone." He looked toward Lily.
"It is suddenly so simple. It was such a big deal, now it's nothing. Ha ha, I was parachuting... showing off... started swinging too high of an arc... next thing one of the thin nylon lines cut my privates...cut them clean off. Hahaha, my wife... can't really blame her. She took the baby and bugged out."

"Ahhahaha hee hee. Lily could not control her inappropriate laughter. It was the first time in twenty-eight years that such sound escaped her lips. The more she tried to restrain it the more uninhibited it became, and soon Robert joined in the laughter and giggles.
That very night Lillian received her first romantic kiss. She kind of liked it; she liked it a lot. That very night, for the first time in ten years, Bob made love to a woman who would become his wife for life.
How can such a thing be, you ask?
It is a mystery, my son; it is a mystery.

Sunday, November 11, 2012


John watched the terrible alien creature emerge from the cocoon.  It was stranger than anything he had ever seen on Earth.  With an exoskeleton that was impervious to all weapons the creature was as malignant as hideous, and destruction followed its course.  Acid sprayed from  razor sharp mandibles and dissolved flesh and steel alike.  From orifices at the ends of its tentacles oozed a toxic gas.

Experts from all over the world exclaimed that this creature defied all the laws of science.  Churches became full as preachers struggled to explain this hellish abomination which gave new meaning to the Apocalypse. 
Radio and  TV  newscasters squirmed with a schizophrenic ambivalence: they were elated at the biggest story of their life and dejected by the realization that it might be their last story.

There is nothing that can stop this creature from destroying all life on earth was the hourly mantra. "This creature gets stronger and more powerful with  with each day."
John suddenly sat up. "It is a creature," he said aloud.  "It is only a creature, just another creature which depends on the benevolence of God for its existence.

"Because it is a creature it must eventually come to an end, and like all other creatures its knee must bend before Almighty God."  With that realization John  rose from his seat and left the movie theater. 
He went home and fervently prayed that the people of the United States would survive the policies of the new president.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Gringo and the Emperor by Taxigringo

Gringo had been imprisioned in the emperor's dungeon for two hundred years. The early years where the most difficult as Gringo tried to adapt to the absence of customary human comforts. Chinese tortures were different than what he was subjected to by the Russians who would take him to the point of death and then revive his health to be tortured again. Two hundred years of torture were a long time, and with two more hundred years to go before he was to be killed and sent to Hell, Gringo made the best of his situation. He realized that anxiety was useless. Even the worst of human conditions was better than this eternal abyss called Hell, and Gringo bided his time with creative writings. The writings had come to the attention of the emperor who found them amusing. He sent a message to Gringo that he could have one wish. Gringo let it be known that he would like to have Diana Krall play the piano and sing to him every night.The emporer was not amused because he had secretely nurtured the same wish for himself. None the less he let Der Gringo have a two and a half octave set of orchestral bells. Day and night Der Gringo banged on the aluminum keys until the day came when the guards removed their ear plugs. More and more they looked forward to hearing the rhythms and melodies that touched their heart. Roaches, mice, rats and all sorts of vermin also would make their way to Gringo's cell for they too found the ineffable music to their liking. Learned men of the land became curious about how a man in such deplorable misery and isolation could produce such beautiful music. They could not agree upon an answer. When Gringo was told to give a command performance for the emperor he did so and so much to the emperor's delight he was given his freedom with a stipend to live on.Gringo was awed by the beauties of nature which he had taken for granted before his imprisonment. He taught himself to cook as now he could eat as well as his imagination and skill would allow, and great were his imagination and skill. Again this came to the attention of the emperor who invited him to fix a meal for him. Gringo did so, and the emperor was pleased. When the emperor asked him for the secret of his resiliance and resourcefulness Gringo answered, "Life is a gift and meant to be lived with appreciation. Our worst days are merely a sense of having a little less of the gift, but in reality it just whets our appitite for what is yet to come."The emperor said, "Aren't you afraid of having to go to Hell when you die?"Gringo looked at him and smiled, "It is not Hell that I fear but rather the one who can send me there, and where He is Hell is not."

Thursday, March 01, 2012


A WALK IN THE RAIN by Taxigringo Feb 24, 2007
It was a very dark night. Rain was falling hard. The wind blew hard. Power went out, and so did the lights of the city. Meanwhile, John was walking to the convienience store to get batteries. At times he had to lean forward to keep from getting blown over by the wind. He squinted to avoid the stinging drops of rain.Ironically, he enjoyed the walk. It became a fantasy stroll back to the time when he was young and dreamed of adventure. Thinking about those innocent years John wandered off the sidewalk, fell into the gutter and was carried towards a dry wash that was now a turbulent stream. He let out a little chuckle. All the way he imagined it was a water park slide. He felt no sense of danger as the rushing water carried him toward the creek that had become a raging river. He exerted himself just enough to keep his head above water. All the while he continued to pretend that he was in the mighty Congo River speeding him to see his beloved Jane. Crocodiles imposed no fear on the Lord of the Jungle. More than once he had disposed of the overgrown reptiles with a knife that hung from his leopard skin loin cloth. Such were the fantasies of this aging, overweight dreamer as he floated twenty miles per hour toward a large grate. He was certain to drown. The laws of reality promised that there would be no escape.At last the situation dawned on him, and with it came embarrassement for indulging in so much silliness. "What am I doing?" He cried out loud. "For love of Pete, I'm not Tarzan. I've got a family to think about."Was this the end? Would his mundane life end in foolishness. His mind raced as he thought of all the people who loved him; they deserved a better return on their investment. The man realized that his predicament would require a miracle. Too embarrassed to call upon God directly he made a plea to Saints Peter and Paul, "Please get me out of this mess, and I'll try to do better."Immediately and just in time his prayer was answered. Like an artillery shell a great thunderbolt hit a telephone pole knocking it into the water. With power lines still attached it fell right in front of John. Not wasting the opportunity he grabbed hold and worked himself back to the bank. "Thanks," he said reverently. On the way home he offered five joyful mysteries of the Rosary before walking through the front door of his house. "Did you get the batteries?" His wife asked."Honey, I forgot. Let's just wait until it's less wet outside."


Sunday, February 26, 2012

Knorge Goes to the Hospital by Taxigringo

John was led by two policemen to the nice facility that Dr. Belfiori said had nice people who would help him. The policemen where sympathetic to poor John's plight, but showed a court order and tried to assure John that it was just for observation. Everything would be fine.A curious thing happened. Anxiety mounted and a desperation set in. John, so peaceful and respectful to all authority, went through a primal change. Completely uncharacteristic of his nature, he began cussing and cursing and thrashing wildly. The rear door of the Ford Crown Victoria was kicked so hard that the upper part sprung open four inches. The police who initially felt that John was a gentle victim of psychiatric capriciousness reversed their opinion of the situation. "Knorge! Knorge! Knorge!" John screamed hysterically. Officer Morales was becoming uncomfortable. Officer Cult tried to calm things down. "Who is this Knorge you're calling for.""Ayiiieeee!" It was officer Morales' turn to scream. The cruiser was going out of control as he aimed his 10mm Glock erratically and fired several rounds. Culp knocked the gun from his hand. The Crown Vic stalled in a ditch. Morales ran from the vehicle like a man chased by the devil.Culp, momentarily bewildered, searched frantically for what caused his partner to go berserk. His pulse raced as he looked at John in the back seat. John was now quite calm and said, "What do we do now?" He had his hand over his lap as if he were cuddling an invisible dog.Police photographers and accident investigators showed up first. The radio communications aroused the curiosity of all listeners and every non-committed officer arrived shortly along with plenty of media crews trying to figure out what was causing so much commotion. It would take some time to settle on an account that would not make them a laughing stock nor liable for a lawsuit from John.Officer Morales was found on top of a van still shaking with fright. Meanwhile John was taken to Metropolitan Hospital, to the psychiatric ward of course. It was not so nice. Neither where the people.Double steel doors with wire embedded glass panes closed after entering. Three police officers held John down on a gurney as a technician locked down his arms and legs with heavy nylon straps. Shortly thereafter, Officer Morales was brought in and immediately given a sedative. It would be a long night for the Chief of Psychiatry.An orderly brought a radio phone to Dr. Mahaney. "Dr. Belfiori is on the line for you." Mahaney took the phone. "What is the situation with this Mr. John.""I think we have found a genuine code black. The patient is a veteran. Naturally the V.A. will want to take over. I recommend you stall them until I get there. Medicate the patient immediately. 300 milligrams of Thorazine, 50 milligrams of Resperdal and 15 milligrams Artane. I'm on the way.""That is a tall order. You had better be sure this is a code Black."Dr. Mahaney led Dr. Belfiori to his office that was free of surveillance objects.Belfiori wasted no time with courtesies but went right to the heart of the matter. "This man is not only able to project his fantasies on others, but also do so remotely without his actually willing it. It is a perfect case of my theory of Psychological Resonance in Mass Populations. You now have in your care a policeman that became hysterical. Question the man and I believe you will discover that the object of his hallucination is a giant cockroach two feet long." A woman was running down the hall screaming and when Mahaney looked out the door he recognized her as one of the psychiatric nurses. "I think that we have a problem." Belfiori had already surmised the situation and a fearful look fell over his face. "I told you to completely sedate the patient with Resperdal and Thorazine," he barked at Mahaney.Mahaney returned, "The man was under before you even arrived here. What now genius?"Dr. Belfiori was holding back an anxiety that threatened complete panic. His mind raced and vacillated between trying to understand the phenomenon and making a decision to avoid disaster. "Give him to the V. A.. Quickly!" Induce a chemical coma. Now!"Belfiori's anxiety was infecting Mahaney and now it was Mahaney's turn to vacillate between following Belfiori's order and the possibility that it was Belfiori who was losing his mind. At his professional level the loss incurred by making the wrong choice was substantial. Another orderly succumbed to the strange panic. There would be an investigation and consequences if he just dumped this developing maelstrom into the V. A. Hospital without....Mahaney looked aghast at Belfiori who was now standing on the desk with large beads of perspiration on his face. For the first time in his life he was able to empathize with psychotic patients.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

HIGH by Taxigringo January 06, 2007

At thirty thousand feet over the desert of New Mexico John was fighting the bad guys in the cavernous bay of a C-5 cargo plane. Normally he would just beat them up and move on to his next adventure, but this time he wasn't feeling so well, and there were just too many of them. Whomp! A big fist caught John right in the bread basket and from there things went bad. The bad guys tossed him out the back door of the plane.At a rate of 9.8 meters per second squared he fell toward the town of Roswell. Things didn't look good, and to make matters worse his belly still hurt. Rolling into a ball like a pill bug his fall increased from 120 mph to 180 miles per hour. At least it was getting him out of the thin, freezing air.At 10,000 feet the temperature warmed to a comfortable 70 degrees. Discomfort or no discomfort John realized that he had better think of something quick if he was going to live to have another adventure.He noticed a house with a large swimming pool. Yes, he would go into a spread eagle position and wind surf to the pool. Sadly, his problems weren't over.At 1000 feet a flock of Canadian Geese intercepted his landing vector. As you might fear, a large goose smacked his face and knocked him unconscious. Was this the end? Things sure didn't look good.Down below a twenty-nine year old blonde by the name of Roxxi happened to be looking upwards. When she saw John hurtling like a meteor toward her newly remodeled home she gasped and quickly willed a prayer. Meanwhile John's ornithilogical collision had redirected his landing from the swimming pool to the driveway. He must have done something good in his lifetime for he crashed onto an industrial strength trampoline. High and back into the sky he bounced and over the house only to splash gently into Roxxi's swimming pool.The tepid water had brought our hero back to his senses. Slowly he rose out of the pool still holding his stomach before a much amazed Roxxi."Are you hurt?" She asked."Yes, my stomach has been bothering me all day. Do you suppose I could have a drink?"Moments later Roxxi placed placed a half full glass of Chivas Regal in his hand. "See if this will make you feel any better." It did, and John's next adventure was about to begin.

Good Stuff by Taxigringo 12/28/06

John and Dave seemed to be friends by default. Who else would be friends with them? If there was a one-ups-manship club they would have to take turns being the president.They kept things near the edge and it was a phenomena that they didn't go over it more often. The first long drop off the precipice began when they worked as team drivers for a large trucking company. Both were alcoholics, but being German, they dismissed such labels. Germans by virtue of their genes could drink without being work impaired. After all, they never drank more than a six-pack while they drove. That is to say, a six-pack each. The department of transportation, lovingly known by truckers as DOT, did not share their point of view. In fact, on a routine trip through a weigh station DOT closed the book on their trucking career.Most people would go completely into the bottle with such an unhappy turn of events. Not so with John and Dave. In fact, they actually welcomed the challenge of finding a new livelihood with such a depreciating mark on their police record. In exchange for implied future favors a local Democrat politico made possible their new employment. Working as swing shift janitors at the NASA facility in Houston suited them well. If you suspect that they continued their libations on the job, then you suspect correctly.So as not to belabor the point of the story, John and Dave took turns bringing a bottle to work which they shared after the three hours it took to complete their work. The ritual was the same. Lunch, drain the bottle, and play chess until their eight hour shift ended at midnight. On a Monday night they would once again go too close to the edge. "Ach du lieber Mensch, John. These beans are superb." Dave exclaimed.""I wish that I could take credit. That Mexican woman brought them over this morning." John said. "I think she is looking for a husband.""You need to marry her." Dave snickered.They finished eating in silence and then John asked, "What did you bring tonight?"Dave looked in disbelief and exploded, "What did I bring!? You dumbkopf! What did you bring? It's your turn to bring a bottle!"John stood up. "I brought the bottle last....Oh Scheiss! It is going to be a long night."Dave's head seemed to roll on his shoulders and then he looked upward. "I think I can salvage your incompetence." He walked over to a barrel that was obviously rocket fuel. Are you aware that this stuff is alcohol?" John hesitated. "I don't know. I'm thirsty, but I ..." "Think of it as triple strength vodka." Dave was already finding a way to pour it into the empty coffee thermos. It didn't seem bad. And as for drinking government property, they both figured: "Don't muzzle the ox that treads the grain." The bible can't be wrong. Yes, there were consequences. By three A.M. Dave woke in his bed to the ringing of the phone. Groggily he answered. It was John. Dave screamed out. "Was ist los mit Du? Do you know what time it is?" "I just want to ask you if anything strange happened to you?"Dave answered, "Only that I have a headache, but it will go away as soon as I hang up!" Then he softened. "What about you? Anything strange?"John sounded frightened. "Well, yes. About fifteen minutes ago I was in my bed and farted. And now, I'm in Cleveland."