From Bob_Chapman@brown.edu Mon Jul 06 09:27:37 1998
Subject: A Clone's Ride Home
From: Bob_Chapman@brown.edu (Crazy Bob)
Date: 6 Jul 1998 16:27:37 GMT
To make up for the fact that I'M going to have to pay for CrazyBob's
speeding ticket (with his money, so I guess it evens out), I didn't have
as much trouble getting home from Brushwood as my former self had getting
there, probably because I was relying on my memory implants while all
that poor sod had was Friday's "directions." I did get a little lost at
one point though:
The plan was to get off 90 East at exit 11a to take 495 diagonally to 95
South, but when I saw exit 11 there was a big sign saying "To Providence"
so I took it and ended of on state route 122... the scenic route.
It was probably better than taking the highway... what with all those
close calls me nearly falling asleep and plowing right into something (my
new JHVH Hates Phred tapes helped keep me going, (thanx Andreux... or
Andreux's clone, really... I'll be in the Chicago area later this week to
visit the old people who paid for college, so I'll get in touch w/ you
about the X-day tapes) and whenever I started to fall asleep I'd just
start making Jelly-Man noises) and the winding side roads kept me alert
and awake, as did the many speed traps... having to reduce speed from 55
MPH to 25 MPH on a moment's notice keeps you centered.
I was doing fine until I reached the little Rhode Island town of
Woonsocket, which I'd never actually seen before, just all the signs on
I-95 which led to many late night driving-home-from-Boston games of "What
Do You Plug into a Woonsocket?"
I'm sure it's a nice enough place, but there was a bridge closed for some
reason, and they sure don't know how to set up proper detour signs... I
lost 122 more times than I can count... I was beginning to think that I
was never going to get out of Woonsocket. I was so distracted, in fact,
that I didn't even notice the throngs of people setting up lawn chairs on
I had pulled into the parking lot of a Dunkin Donuts to turn around and
head back to the last place I'd seen the erstwile route when the first
explosion came. I looked over in time to see a second volley of fireworks
going off in the distance. Now, despite my experience with them this last
weekend, I still love fireworks. I don't care whether they're celebrating
the birth of a nation or the end of the world, they give me Slack. I
turned off the car engine, grabbed my bag of chips and bottle of soda,
turned up the radio and climbed out the sun roof to watch the show.
Even though they weren't aimed at me, these fireworks also weren't bought
by an impoverished cult. Woonsocket apparently has some kind of budget
for fireworks displays! Plus they had that nice effect of distance
fireworks where you see them two-three seconds before you hear them. I
sat there, eating, drinking, listening to music, and watching the show.
There was a crowd of little kids with their parents standing next to
their van parked right in front of me, and all the little kids were
jumping up and down excited watching these great blossoming orgasms of
light in the sky, and after all the hateful rhetoric of the weekend, I
remembered the forgotten passage in the Book of the SubGenius where it
points out what should be obvious: "There ARE NO normals!"
And as I looked up from the little kids getting so much Slack from a day
late Fourth of July fireworks show, my eyes fell across a sign off to my
right with a big arrow pointing the way to 122 South.
Now, I don't know exactly what it was that made me decide then to look
straight ahead, or why it was that I hadn't noticed it before, but I
looked across the street, and across the street from the Dunkin Donuts
was a coin-op laundromat. The sign on this laundromat said "Bob's 1 Stop"
only the "Stop" was burnt out and for a moment I could have sworn it said
And as I drove away from Woonsocket I KNEW that "Bob" had wanted me to
see those fireworks... who else would work through incompetently placed
detour signs? And I realized then what my former self up on that saucer
could never figure out, what Perfect Slack truly is.
"Bob" is perfect Slack. The rest is just gravy.