Sunday, January 12, 2014


                 I got the Fear today.  Most of the time I don't
know it, but I got it with both barrels today. And
it was a very unpleasant feeling.
       Hunter Thompson wrote about the fear. No, Hunter
Thompson S. Thompson wrote about The Fear.
        The Fear = normal terror +  blanket
paranoia + no blood sugar +  psychosis + toxicity.
 This, of course, includes toxic-psychosis
which Frank is fast becoming an expert in. Madness
resulting from being stoned out of your tree.
       Frank has learned lots about the subject,
primarily from experience with the insanity
of his neighbours, Frank tells himself.
       Many of Frank's neighbours would say that
the situation is reversed: that they've learned
a lot about toxic-psychosis because of visits
from Frank.
         Santa, the monster-sized ex-jailbird and 
criminal attorney, he's  written a book about surviving all
manner of weirdness including, toxic-psychosis...
        For example,the weirdness of some evil drug grasping the brain in its talons...all of a sudden you are in the
grip of THE FEAR. And you're in Santa land.
        Gentle self-talk is useless, and logic has no effect!

         Couple this with a healthy dose of cabin fever...
and you'll know intellectual solutions are useless.
It's time to get right down to the ground of your being,
sit on the earth itself. Sit with your spine
straight and watch the river of your own being
slowly clear... and while you're at it,
you might as well start loading your rifle.
         Dangers lurk in unseen places. And no place
is more dangerous than the human brain,
when it's on TILT!
           If you've been through at least one
episode of primordial weirdness; if you've
survived your own special blend of toxic-
psychosis... then there are certain things
that you know; you are experienced in matters
that are very hard to describe. What you can
do is describe similar experiences, because your
own experience will be too horrifying to delve into -
and you will not willingly enter into that
evil country again...
           For example, if the turkey you're
cooking sits up in the pan... turns that little
light on in the oven... and starts peering at
you through that clear window in the oven
door - you know you're getting toxic-psychosis.
          And then you go back to reading your
book and you hear a whispering. And you look
up and now the turkey's standing in the window
and gives you the finger, then you know you're
gettin' it...
        Then when you hear the turkey say:
"I WEEL KIEELL YOU!" And he's beckoning for
you to come over across the room, to come, closer than that!
         You know you've got the TOXIC-PSYCHOSIS and
you'd better see an expert QUICK to get the cure!

         Then you'll know what most mornings are like
for Hank! He's been nutty as a fruit-bat for the last
two weeks. Clocks no longer can be trusted. And the endless bush to the East is calling him again... The caves of
the people of the Cave-Bear - a place from which there is,
all too often, no returning!
        Hank writes: "This is a very unpleasant subject at the moment. I'd bettor go in search of some major tranquillizors...
or I might fall off the flat of the world..."
        "ooooOOOoooOO! Did someone put something
ugly in my food? Some depraved hallucinogen that gives
a guy the sensation of sitting alone, hot sweaty and
naked...with the spiders coming... and More
Spiders crawling all over my naked skin....hahahahuhuh!
            More spiders crawling in my gut.... and more
scuttling up the  rut of the road, coming, coming, coming
my way....(I wonder how they'll taste!)
       And me - mortal, mortal, mortal...hee! hee!
and me cats have worms... eeeep! And I been
walkin barefoot in dah kitchun.... ooop! And I going
down like last week's discards at the butcher's...

         Frank thinks, "Oh, oh!"  He doesn't breath a sound
He's reading this disturbing passage
from the dark behind Hank.

           Hank keeps writing down his secrets :  "See? Whiff of the fear... for you, not me. More than a whiff for me... For me a real low blood sugar chemically induced mind-fuck...
Can't talk yer way out of DIS one, Bruno!"
        "Time for me to be dressing down - like the butcher dresses down...meat!"
         (FRANK's snuck up behind HANK and he's reading this
over Hank's left shoulder. He's very careful about
making no sudden noises. Hank might not be able
to shoot, but he's gotten very accurate with an ice
pick... of late.  And he's getting stronger with
 this incessant digging....)

         Oh, the North will make a man out of you...!
And if you already were a man, it'll make you into the
beast you always subconsciously knew yourself
to be....!

         Frank crawls back across the bunker floor....
 Dark thoughts for impenetrable times... "Screw it!
I'm going to light one of those horrid yellow candles."
Frank snaps a match alight.

        There's a scream from twenty feet down the tunnel!
It's getting bad - any noise, any movement, any
surprise and Hank comes unhinged - a full-throated
blood curdling scream, like a woman in a swamp
creature horror movie - "Return of the Swamp Thing"...
When the woman first sees the Swamp Thing...The scream! emerging from the murk and the dark...  The scream!
Response to a horrible surprise...

           "That's what Hank sounds like when I light a match... 
Frank's thinking, " What's
he going to do when I shoot something?"

       Frank sits silently back down at the wide shelf which is his desk. He drips some wax on the wood. Sets his candle in the hot wax where it stands and burns in
the silence.

             "This "dressing down like the butcher,"I don't like that
thought," Frank says

           "I don't like that thought, either." Hank replies.

              They're both astounded that they've spoken out loud.
If they gave it any thought, they'd be more astounded
that they both are talking about EXACTLY the same thing.

                  They don't know they're having a conversation.

        The bunker is much more spacious now that Hank has
entered into his committed digging project.... always
EASTWARD to the east he goes... Eastward, HO!
Eastward, YO! 
         He's cleared about twenty feet of tunnel to the east...
What wuz a cozy bunker now looks like some mad
mining project...

         FRANK is thinking about some of the thing's he's
read off Hank's notepad:"Mortal, mortal, mortal hee hee hee!
 And my cats have worms, are wormy...eep!"

         "OK, that's creepy, but it doesn't bother me
too much," Frank thinks, but what was that other
phrase? Oh, yeah...


         "That's a phrase that'll make you think,"
Frank whispers to himself. "That's a phrase that might
make you ditch your roommate!"

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