Join My Cult - Original Falcon Press

whenever a few minutes needed to be killed, cut off and simply removed,
a cigarette was lit.
“How so?” he asked in response to Ken’s assertion, his feet tapping in
time with the music. Building and building, he thought to himself, the
image keeps getting brighter, the sounds louder, more exciting…
“I’m not completely sure if it’s a good or bad thing—it sort of hurts in
a way, you know?” The way Ken dragged out the last few syllables told
Alexi he was deliberating over something.
He nodded again. “Living you mean? Of course.” He figured he
wouldn’t press the point.
“More so,” Ken repeated, whipping the car around another turn at an
impossible speed, “colors are brighter, this cigarette feels like my
first…”
Alexi chuckled. Nothing like romanticizing one’s eventual, selfinflicted
demise, he thought, dragging hard on his Marlboro.
“Hell, driving right now is a religious experience. I’m one with my
car. Taoism at work, you know?” To prove his point, he increased the
speed even more. The engine, which was purring in pleasure like a large
cat, a hunting cat, now erupted into a roar.
“She’s real happy with me right now,” Ken said.
A few nights later, Alexi was sitting alone in his room, hunched in
front of his computer, cackling occasionally to himself. The sound of
clicking keys came in sporadic bursts as he typed, and then paused to
reread what he was writing.
The refresh rate of the monitor is precisely the correct frequency to
induce insanity in primates, he mused, dragging hard on his cigarette. He
could feel the burning deep in his lungs, but stubbornly took another drag
immediately afterwards. To hell with quantitative tests. You don’t know
cigarettes cause cancer unless you get it.
From:
Reply-To:
Date: Nov. 1, 1995 9:19:32
To:
Subject: A parable.
…There is a difference between knowledge and understanding.
Why is this? Knowledge must wait for something…before
it becomes applicable, and that which it
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