By request, here’s more from the play I wrote in elementary school called “DOOM DUST.”

NARRATOR: Jarm didn’t know where he was. He had smuggled 231 samples of illegal weapons right under the ACFIB’s (Alien Care For Intelligent Beings) noses. Suddenly he knew where he was.

JARM: Oh, no! They dumped me on the prison planet of Nebulae! You can’t survive for more than 5 hours because the dust clogs your breathing organs! (I bet this is where the title “Doom Dust” comes from –ed.)

ISK: Then … I will die in less than 7 minutes.

JARM: Who are you?

ISK: Isk. Just Isk. Dumped here because I was thought to have shot 3 people.

HERE ENDETH THE EXCERPT. Give it up for that grammar, by the way. “I was thought to have shot 3 people.” I really snaked through the thicket on that one.

Okay, people are requesting more excerpts from “DOOM DUST.” I’ll try posting another installment later this afternoon.

GET DUSTED!

Thanks to webmaster and urlshorteningservicefortwitter.com CTO PCL for sending this:

If it had only dropped a couple years ago, it woulda been a contender!

When Polvo comes out of the extended bridge in “Lucia,” that’s pretty rocking. Digging the Allman Bros. vibe with those major-key hammer-ons.

And that’s your Firestone/Bridgestone Tires “Good Music Moment of the Day.”

Boy this UNC / URI game is a thing of beauty … did Michelangelo carve it?

Apparently, in 6th grade or thereabouts, I wrote a short play called “DOOM DUST.”

Selection:

JARM: How can I get out (of the prison planet)?
ISK: There is a passage Hunngggghh!
JARM: The dust! Calm down!
ISK: Passage in a rock Akkglllk!
JARM: Don’t talk!
ISK: That rock there Hnmmkgkk!
JARM: Shut up!
ISK: Press the top and Eggklh! You will see an opening Vsstht!
JARM: Wait!!!!
Narrator: Reaching into his suit Jarm removes a tiny capsule.
JARM (Desperate): Eat this!!
Narrator: Isk does as he is told.
ISK: (Talking calmly): Go down the passageway from there you will warp back to 1983. Ahhhgllk!

It’s spring cleaning time, and I just found a manila envelope filled with junk from my elementary school days. Check out these two poems … I think I wrote them in 6th grade:

If you can’t read my handwriting, the poems are:

Cigarette.
Ugly and grotesque.
Puffing up pollution.
Why can’t you be replaced by gum.

Death.
Lonely and scary.
Drifting in to unsuspecting victims.
Must you be so sudden?

I guess the assignment was to write the most depressing poems possible, making sure that each poem ends with a question that speaks to the futility of existence?

“Why can’t you be replaced by gum.”

I also found a short story I wrote in which I am the 11-year-old President of the United States and I’m visited by an arms dealer who tries to sell me weapons and I just make wisecracks until he “looked at me as if he wanted to kill me.” Maybe I’ll serialize it later this week.

“My Block” by Scarface is one of the greatest songs ever recorded.