Fred Gets Even

Fred is not a member of the permanent political establishment. And he learned quickly, these last few days, that if you're not a member in good standing of the Washington elite, then some in the media consider a candidate unqualified for that reason alone.

But here's a little news flash for all those reporters and commentators: Fred is not going to Washington to seek their good opinion - He is going to Washington to serve the people of this country. Americans expect him to go to Washington for the right reasons, and not just to mingle with the right people.

Politics isn't just a game of clashing parties and competing interests.

The right reason is to challenge the status quo, to serve the common good, and to leave this nation better than he found it.

Mr. Fantastic

Fred's head is a fifth limb, but it can't control it's own swinging and kicking.
622 perceptions, 1' 2' 3' 4' HEAD'

Remind me.

Understand or Understanding; "everything obviously is perpetual mutation"

A sense of eternity.

Being and representing are not the same.

"My hands itch and get scratched, also my face."

Silly Letters Put Together,
Richard

We think you're great

Fred, that was the name of the man on the stool. The bar, its somewhat cold surface holding his arms, stood beneath his chin which was lowered only a bit, but quite enough for his purposes. Covering his slick, jet hair was a navy fedora that matched his common fabric suit, only his shoes and their scuffed black standing out.
The man's eyes were hollow as well as their stair, pouring themselves into the dry martini which he held between his fingers and swirled gingerly upon the table top. This was all of the man which moved, save for his chest, shifting only slightly in front of his slow yet shallow breaths.
In the stale air, the subtle jingle of the piano player's craft drifted like the silk ash strands of cigarette smoke which sometimes shone silver beneath the room's few low lit lights. Fred put down his soupy tonic and took out a smoke from his shirt pocket, lit it with a match, and puffed its burning sweetness, the cloud of his exhale seeming to carry his heavy brooding. That's when she appeared.
Her feet had always been light, at least her step that is. None could really hear her when she walked, even with the moderately tall heels which she wore nearly always. Fred could always hear her though.
"I haven't seen you in a while," the man said, not sparing even a glance towards the dark woman
She was of a slender sort, carrying on her frame a black, sleeveless dress. Her head carried a wide brimmed hat from which red hair fell straight until it met the bottom of her neck where it curled upwards like a falling night wind which had just reached the ground. In her hand was a long, tiffany cigarette holder, its tip sending thin strands of smoke scented like incense.
"I'm like a bad habit Fred," she replied in a voice as deep and smooth as the vapors from her cigarette. "And you'll never drop me I'm afraid." She turned her green eyes towards him and asked, "Do you still have your…condition?"
"It's ironic that you should ask that Oliva," he answered, dropping a long stick of ash into the glass tray between them.
"Our acquaintance has always been a great irony," said the woman with a brief smile. "Is she here?"
"She's sitting on your shoulder."
There, sitting with her legs crossed atop that shoulder was a little pixie with brown curls, dressed nearly the exact same way as Oliva. Her name was Hailey Trinket.
"Gee Freddy, you just can't put her down, can you?" she said in a high, nearly childish voice which passed between her smiling lips.
"I thought you didn't like this place Hailey," the man replied.
"It's growing on me," she answered with a giggle. "Besides, you'll need me once this is over darling."
Fred brushed her remarks aside which he was quite used to doing at moments like these.
"Danny," he said, beckoning the bartender.
"What do you need Fred," answered the man, slightly gruff yet kindly in a thuggish sort of way.
"A drink for the lady."
The barkeep glanced at the place where Oliva sat and then asked, "What is she having."
"Scotch," he replied.
Fred always ordered for the girl. It was sort of the nature of their relationship.
"Well, at least my condition has kept me out of the war," continued the man with a rare and quick grin. "Seems like Franklin D. doesn't care for my type much."
"I've heard you've been a regular Rosy the Riveter lately?" commented Oliva.
"Ah, it's a living," Fred responded. "Heaven knows you're not cut out for that kind of work."
"By nature," she said.
"Boy you can sure be a dumb-dumb sometimes Freddy," declared Hailey, her mouth laughing behind her soft hand.
"Can it imp," commanded Fred with a dispassionate tone.
Oliva knew that he wasn't talking to her. He never called her imp.
"Why don't I buy the drinks this time Fred," Oliva offered. "You always get the tab, it's really not fair."
The man smiled a bit and then said, "Nah, the last time you bought the drinks, I ended up spending the night in the pin."
Fred dropped his smile then and hunkered down over the bar, his drink, now empty, sitting directly beneath his neck.
"Why did you have to come back?" he asked with a tormented anger.
Oliva took a hard swig of her scotch and replied, "I don't know. Revisiting old times I guess."
"Revisiting old times huh?" said Fred with a dry breath of resentment. "Revisiting means going back Oliva, and there ain't no way to do that. All you're doing is digging my heart out with a cold knife."
"Why can't we go back Fred?" asked the girl, now with an aching in her cry. "Look at us. Look at who I am. How could you say that it's impossible?"
Fred drew in a deep draught, held it, and then released.
"It's not that Oliva," he answered. "The truth is that you don't really want to go back. You got lonely and you want your quick fix. You still think I'm easy, well you're wrong."
"Ooh, sock it to her big man!" shouted Hailey, waving her fist.
"You're a fool Fred! You can have me, all of me!" she yelled. "I left for your own good. Everything about us was a tragedy. It can't be anything else. But I don't care anymore and I know that you don't either! Lose yourself in me Fred. We don't have to come back! We can stay lost forever!"
The man, his face giving little heed, if even that, to the fervent agony of the pleading woman, stood to his feet, threw a few dollars on the bar and said, "You're lying to yourself Oliva."
With the girl sweating in anguish and watching every stride, Fred put his hands in his pockets and walked out the door. Oliva sat there for several breaths, her mouth agape and her exhale filled with hot steam. The woman's eyes finally became unbarale in their burning and, giving little thought to her poise, Oliva rushed away towards the heavy oak door, frantic, yet not failing to tip the piano player on her way out.
It was snowing out. Fred hated it. It was snowing the night when Oliva first found him laying half dead in the very alleyway which he walked down. Her love never helped him. He got to where he was on his own. In fact, it wasn't until she left when he got himself back on his feet.
"Fred, wait, please!" cried the very girl, her black, leather handbag jerking side to side as she clumsily tried to run in her heels.
The man only trudged forward, warming his hands as much as he could in his pockets. After fighting through the drifts a good bit, Oliva finally met her hand upon Fred's shoulder and spun him around. Their eyes fell together as was beyond their means of control. Fred, his stare, still hollow, yet filled to the very rim with a nothing which burned him like a hellish night in heaven. Such a blaze was primed and set by her gaze, letting sail liquid flame into his tensed, tortured visage. Her lips, aching beneath the weight of her yet unrequited longing, she licked as her arms slipped over his shoulders and met below the back of his neck. She then lifted her face, matching the snow's pale glare, and let it drift agonizingly towards his. No will of Fred could free him from the hook of her red mouth, pulling him in until, amidst the thick clouds of heavy breath which they had formed, it met his.
Rapturous woe and jeweled strings of tarnished gold, the weight of the sea's depths yet its dark, rich, blue embrace, these were the things which passed between the lovers to whom the very laws of the world denied love. Then, the passing ended.
"Nothing's changed Oliva, at least not the way I've always felt," said Fred after a cold, heated while of grabbing frantically every last sip of her eye's painful glow.
"Is this what you really want?" the woman asked, still drawing deep breaths from the frigid air.
The man stared at her a bit longer and then answered, "It's just like you said Oliva. Everything about us is a tragedy. It can't be anything else."
Oliva looked at him, smiled carelessly, and replied, "I'm like a bad habit Fred, and you'll never drop me I'm afraid."
With such a remark, she and the deep, dense eyes which she carried softly vanished and gave way only to the slushy, brown street a ways across from him.
"Such is the nature of my condition," he said.
Placing his hands back into his pockets, Fred once again trudged through the snow. If he had looked down, he would have seen only the footprints which he had left behind earlier. Of a woman, there were none. He knew there were none. As he stepped back into the bar and kicked the sludge from his feet, he tossed a quarter onto the piano.
"Hey thanks mac," the piano player said. "That's the first tip I've gotten all night."
Fred didn't respond but made his way again to his bar stool.
"I knew you'd be back Fred so I left the glasses for you," said the barkeep, grinning while wiping a wine glass.
Oliva's shot glasses still sat where she had left them yet they were all still full. The scorched and tattered man settled back onto his stool and stared into the tabletop's emptiness. That's when an all too familiar voice chimed in.
"I told you that you would need me when this was done," proclaimed Hailey who was leaning against one of the glasses.
"Why can't you ever be wrong Hailey?" asked the man with no motion save for the slow rise and fall of his breath. He then turned his head, smiled, and said, "You want a drink?"
"Sure!" cried the little pixie with her fist in the air. "I just love getting sloshed with you Freddy!"
Like a watering trough, she leaned against the glass while Fred took another in his hand.
Lifting it, he said, "Here's to us."
"To us!"
They drank then to each other and between each other held a timeless bond. However, his love could never be hers, for it swam, lost within his cracked, broken, and ever confused mind, searching always for that dark, yet empty ghost of an angel whom he had named Oliva.

Notes from above

Fred,
You have to put a new trash bag, in the trash bag container.

And if you do

-Fred is zesty yet elegant, bouncing with fresh aromas and delicate undertones.
-Enjoy incredibly fresh Fred.
-Lateral Rotation, Medial Rotation over and over again.
-Enjoy incredibly fresh Fred, scientifically proven to help kill, and tastes great.
-Reactive attachment disorders.

-Oliva still had vomit on her lips.
-The danger always kept it's secrets.
-"Things in my body left it!"

-Presbyterian minces...........high school at Wendy's............peering from the side.
-Equal bites, 4 on each side.

-"Ease on into the atmosphere, it's easy, it's clean."

Far from over

I'm looking for my eyes.

Fred has 5 toes on the front feet and 5 toes on hind feet. Eyes set high on the head give him a periscope view. Fred tends to stay close to home. He looks out for predatory birds and meat-eating mammals. Human poisons and guns can kill Fred. Automobiles destroy innumerable foragers, possibly Fred.

When late 18th-century botanist Carl von Funf -better known as Clinneus- dubbed him Roma, Ni9er, and Sciuridae. Believing the form to represent the species.

Such a distinction may occur because of isolation and adaption to local environment.

S. n. limitus (above) lives mainly in Texas

Five things:
---Feed It
---Love It
---Touch It
---It's endangered
---Enjoy Yourself

I can't get my bicycle to work,
five and six hundred twenty two

Fred Feels Fine

Anyways, Life is great, we have microwave ovens, convection ovens, and stove tops. I'm feeling a little adverse. Time, Space, I don't know. Blessings, Feelings, Curses. Crumbling until we hit the bottom, and then it doesn't matter. We all eat ourselves, and you aren't allowed to know this.

Touch someone,
Fred

Speak before Thinking

That night, the ghost of Mary Todd Lincoln appeared before Fred just as he was falling asleep.

“Fred?”
“Yes, Mary Todd?”
“Fred, I’m kind of concerned about the environment.”
“Don’t worry about it, Mary Todd. You’re dead. Now, go on and haunt someone else’s dreams. Freddy’s gotta get some rest now, okay?”
“Fred?”
“Yes, Mary Todd…”
“Nothing.”
“Good night, Mary Todd.”

Soon sleep swept in, silently surrounding the room.

Fred was renewed.

Smells good

,evoL
drerF

er'uoy syawla no ym dnim


evila rof ouy ot leef. delirhw touthiw dne ot dne
gnirracs noitanimreteD

deziluaxes etamimani stcejbo

laicocS stcesni


esuaceB ereht si on ecnelis tsniaga hcihw ew nac erapamoc ti, ew tonnac reah ti.


s'tI esucxe
s'tI nosaer
gnidaerpS


s'tI na cimedipe, a esaesid fo eht htuom



yllufepoh,

An added bonus

"Who sold you?"

"What?"

"Who sold you?"

"I don't understand the question."

Birds feed their young while they still can, but I don't get any.

Fred who wonders,

Too, wanted .
They're thing's we said before today.

Everything means
A time thread before.

Things we've said.

"
The work before today.
"

Sovva Sova Let,
Scxhildgen

Speckled Trout

It's an epidemic,
a disease of the mouth.

Spreading.

The police in New York City
Raped a boy in Central Park,
they did it, staring Nick Nolte.

Because there is no silence against which we can compare it.
we cannot hear it.

Social insects with
Sexualized inanimate objects
living in America.

Scarring determination.

Whirled without end to End
Alive for you to feel.


I forget about myself, and what I need.
These are me,
I'm falling to my knees.

Fred

Sordid Sorting

Fred, Don't believe them, believe me.

Please !

I love you,
Oliva

Fred is engaged

Fred wakes up.
Red wakes up
Ed wakes up
D thinks it's all kinda silly and falls back asleep.

Fred is running through sleeves and last initials. Fred lies by your side, holds your hand, holds your head, holds you. "Holding is a lot different than folding."

USA OUT OF INDIANA....NOW!

Fred's happy with his decisions before 5:00 p.m..

He's outside congratulated with high five's, head rubs and kisses. ( no one pays either for being so nice.).

Oliva's happy with her decisions before 5:36 p.m.

I'm the greatest

Achmed Hymerstaph, M.D.
Department of Neurology

February 27, 1986

3-878-622

Fred Johnson
206 East Ligustrum
Robstown, Tx. 78491


Dear Fred,

Once again I wish to express my deepest sympathy to you and the other members of you family. The autopsy that you kindly permitted has revealed several abnormalities but the should be regarded as preliminary and macroscopic and further macroscopic as well as microscopic studies are pending on all of the tissues.

The thoracic portion of the spinal cord was extensively involved by tumorous process. This grew around and literally encircled the spinal cord and also invaded the substance of the spinal cord over a number of levels. In the lumbar region there were small nodules of tumor affecting many of the nerve roots. This would be an area bordering the medulla.

At this point, I think it safe to presume that the tumorous involvement of the thoracic region was primarily responsible for paraplegia. Further studies of the tissues may provide additional information.

This type of cancer is often referred to as carcinomatous meningitis. This is a late complication of cancer with an average survival of 4-6 weeks.

As soon as I have any additional information, I will write to you again. If you have any questions or if I can be of any help, please don't hesitate to contact me.


Sincerely,
Achmed F. Hymerstaph M.D.

Do unto others

Fred is drinking away the hole in his soul. In his great town of bum fuck nowhere Louisiana. The beefeater gin has long since stop listening to Fred's issues with transvestites and lollipops. Fred hurriedly undress and hops in his Geo Metro. With no particular place to go Fred just drives naked. Finally he spots a police car, excitedly he begins to pursue the the authorities vehicle. After 20 minutes of shadowing the car it suddenly turns its lights and siren and accelerates rapidly with Fred desperately trying to keep up. Fred notices the car pull into a drive way on a dirt street. Fred parks waiting for the police car to resume his normal duties. While he waits he takes a few more sips from his almost empty bottle not noticing the second police car sneaking up on the unsuspecting Metro. Suddenly the car door is thrown open and Fred is thrown face down to the dirt road and is quickly cuffed. Plain Dealing Louisiana's finest exclaims "Boy, you are Naked"
in his fear Fred pisses himself the warm urine and dirt sticks to his pubes and stomach hair. The officer chuckling to himself asks "Where is your licenses, Son?" and "Why are you chasing a police official naked and drunk?" Fred wittingly replies that his licenses isn't in his back pocket.

'I Must Tell You
That I Should Really Like To Think There's Something Wrong With Me-
Because, If There Isn't, Then There's Something Wrong
With The World Itself-And That's Much More Frightening!
That Would Be Terrible. So I'd rather Believe
There is Something Wrong With Me, That Could Be Put Right.'

T.S. Eliot The Cocktail Party

Sorry folks, parks closed

This Evening, Fred is going to have a odd evening. Fred came home to his nothing apartment, from his nothing job, with his nothing co-workers. He Undress briskly and fires up his computer. Fred checks his e-mail and his pitiful stocks, he masturbates violently to his favorite pornstar of the month 30 second clips. Fred showers trying to wash off his day. During his meal prepration of tuna salad Jamal the token black neighbor who lives down stairs knocks on the door asking if fred would like to partake in smoking a joint. Fred feels so inclined and smokes with Jamal; Fred listens to Jamals useless banter as the smoke rises lazily and fills up the room. Reality snaps back to Fred and realizes the Jamal is asking him something. "What" Fred says. With his ebonics inflicted language Jamal repeats his last phrase "I gots some ups, wanna go watch a flick?" Fred not understanding just mumbles "Yeah, Im stoned too". Jamal with obvious frustration says "Na Man, I
gots some ups, wanna watch a flick." Fred Still not understanding the words "Ups" or "Flick" but not wanting to be rude to his african friend says "Ok". They step into Jamal's immaculate apartment and Fred seats himself on the couch, while Jamal goes into the bedroom and pops a movie into the Wal-Mart brand dvd player. The title flashes across the screen and to Fred's horror its "White Chicks with Black Dicks 800" Jamal smiles and sits on the adjacent chair, Fred stomach is doing somersaults while he ponders that the movie he is about to partake in has been done with 799 different variations. Fred watches as this petite white chick with platinum blond hair is banged in various orifices by 4 black veiny dicks. Freds mind is repeating over and over "My God What Have I Done". It took one look at Jamal furiously masturbating for all the pieces to click into place and Fred to realized what "Ups" and "Flick" meant. Fred Pukes his tuna salad all over the couch.

Impartial Leanings aka Fred gets a dishrag

Fred said Jurassic, Oliva said Mesozoic.

Fred was correct as usual.

"Maybe if you watched less E and more Discovery, you'd know your eras a little better," he said. "No wonder you failed Science 1401." If you don't start trying you'll never make it to Final Jeopardy." Fuck You," said Oliva. "Until last week, you thought that men walked with dinosaurs. Maybe if YOU watched more Discovery and less Jerry Falwell, you wouldn't be such a dolt."

"You cunt. You'd better win this thing. That abortion isn't going to pay for itself."

Fred likes the anticipation

It had been some time. Fred...Oliva...the widest distance grew wider still. "Call out to me, vacuum." Silence once more.

Time is cruel, as are the minds of teenagers. Lessons are for the dying. Fred knows that. He knows how to win. He's seen danger, known its bittersweet afterglow. He's been there. With you. With her. With Oliva...who remains motionless on the floor.

Oliva. Sweet sweat, Oliva.

Floor. Sweet sweat, floor.

Certain redundancies might occur

Fred went to school this morning, but he left his pajamas at home. 5th grade is tough, especially when your head is just a limb.

Somewhere we'll eat again

"When I left your studio , I got in my car and took a long drive up the coast. I was too excited to go home. Was it really a photograph and the change of color that made me feel different on the inside? It couldn't be ! What was it? I began to think about what had happened.

I feel like a pack of wet hot dogs attached to the back of someone's neck.

I have allot to be proud of !

It occurs to me, maybe I wouldn't have looked this good if I hadn't felt this good."



Thanks Fred,
I love you,
Oliva

Notes from the nether regions

Dearest Fred,

Sept. 5, Thursday

water and salt

Ordinary water has a Ph. 7. If you drink a soda, your mouths Ph. is 3. Most body fluids are at 7.4.- if it drops you're dead. This is regulated by your kidneys.


NA+CL,
Oliva

We [heart] Exploratory Surgery

FREDMAN-, n. one who drives a fred [pl. fredmen]

Short

Dear Oliva,

The problem is that higher emotions are human inventions, through creative force, we have built artificial extensions to our natural emotions.

Categories divide and label.

_guilt
_vanity
_humor
_artistic enjoyment
_honor

I think we could invent a new emotion right now.

No more parasites, or hosts.

Love,
FRED

Even on that day we knew

Doctors say, the earliest reported case was Fred. He could astonish people by never taking notes during briefings but being able to repeat the detailed instructions word for word. He was sent to psychologist, Achmed Hymerstaph, who found that Fred could remember, with little trouble, lists of hundreds of numbers, long strings of nonsense syllables, and poetry in foreign languages. He could even list the test pieces backward and remember them correctly after several years.

The secret of this extraordinary memory was the intensity of Fred's imagination and the way sensations tend to spill over and affect each other inside his head. For example, the sharp chime of a bell was not only experienced as a ringing noise but also sparked flashes of light, tastes, and feelings in his mind. He described one particular tone rung by Achmed as looking like greenish fireworks with a rough texture, and a taste of briny pickles. The voice of a friend was described as yellow and crumbly.

To Fred, numbers had shapes and colors: The number 05291975, for example, was flat, rectangular, and whitish, or was high spirited.

While Fred eventually made a living as a professional, his extreme reaction to sensations was as much a handicap as a blessing. Achmed described him as a timid and ponderous person who was weighed down by detail and often had trouble understanding what he was remembering. Fred complained that every word sent a chaos of image stumbling through his mind, so that he could not follow the sense of complex sentences. Common metaphors simply left him confused. He had difficulty in recognizing people because their faces never looked exactly the same as the last time he saw them; and if someone coughed while he was trying to memorize a list, the cough would be smeared across his memory when he came to recall the material. Fred's imagination was so powerful that he had often been late for work because he would imagine that he had already got up and been to work that day.

I like sunburns

Oliva was confused. "Someone's going to have to drink all this orange juice before it spills everywhere." She looked at the vast expanse of thanklessness and began to wonder if her life had begun. "I don't even like my haircut."

Fred was clueless as usual. He explored the outer reaches of his own thanklessness nightly and decided long ago anything other than the usual acquiescence was unacceptable. He was right, of course.

So, the weaves were woven and the night began anew. Each with their own, and all for nothing. "Silence begets silence, friend." No one cared.

I can't...no, wait...I WON'T believe in it

FRED says

"Sooner murder an infant in it's cradle, than nurse unacted desire. Beef-Off / Time Dialation. Pack her birds were eyes up your light, pack up your and blossoms........lips. I wasn't born with hands. Segun lo que creas."

Love,
Post Natal Lips

So you see, there was no other option

FRED-, prefix meaning 'strange or foreign' fredallotriodontia.

FRED-, a printer that imprints a character by creating it from a pattern of dots, each of which is produced by
activating selected wires in a set so that their ends strike the paper through an inked ribbon.
Compare character printer, daisy-wheel printer.

FRED-, /isofejel/ [ Gk. oisophagos, gullet; AS. space.] alaryngeal made by forcing air into and out of the esophogus, causing
it to vibrate.

FRED-,

Don't give me that diatribe, officer

fred sees with two eyes but his one blue iris is rather askew
congenital
can still see the peaches, yes sir
can't miss those by a country mile
at least, that's what fred always says
he says a lot of stuff
he says a lot
sometimes without saying a thing
it's the deformed eye
it tells all
like that time that fred went down to the mountain and looked over the edge and saw her up below the mountain laurel and she was so shiny and round that he wanted to take her home so he decided to climb around and reach out real far as far as he had it in him to do but she was just out of reach so close yet so far he would think back later but right about now fred's trying to figure out how to get her closer to him because he has plans big plans for the both of them whether she knows this or not fails to cross fred's mind as he figures that what he can give her is all the world and who wouldn't want all the world anyway so fred he reaches and he looks around and tries to get closer and calls out and cries for a little help but there's none to be had since fred is all alone
but he wouldn't ever tell you that

Feels like dancing

Fred holds Oliva firmly. "Kiss me...like in The Bible."

Donuts

Oliva hasn't talked to Fred in an hour, He's been doing jumping-jacks in the back yard , listening to Duran-Duran and Otis Redding. simultaneously. He enters the house, " I guess everything is simultaneous." Oliva responds with a hug. ............" It's also spontaneous !" "sometime sponginess"

Intra-Extra-Giving

Fred licks himself, mostly on the inside of his mouth.

Pretty much on the inside of his mouth, sometimes a finger or forearm.

Fred has a tongue. It's used.
.........................................................used at least

She likes to watch him. Sometimes she wonders about Fred's sanity. But it doesn't really matter, as long as he's laughing. He laughs when others cry, and he laughs when he's injured. Oliva likes to watch him laugh.........................

............................................................. it makes her giggle internally.

The couch felt odd to Fred's head. "Fred's head? Why did you say that, my dear friend?"
"Did I say something? Maybe you were hearing things?"
The situation was becoming pressing. Oliva walked out of the room with a murmur.

Unlunged and bathed face first in the afterfire, Fred postclipped toward the shiny clearing. Sometime later in lifeless penury, he was affronted by a sortie. It was all because of his inability to forfeit completely. His hearts all coughed up more life and he was heard cursing, "Pardy! Pardeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" His illusionary clown face was applied. The farding commenced with a puff of white so intense that it kicked up enough attention to make him well-off. So much showbiz that he fell on good times like a walrus misplaced in a world of ice, like a red tin firetruck careening out of control toward a disaster, like a submarine going beep beep in a dark well of unintelligible corporal ..............................

...........................................................................
.......................................................destiny.

Side-mouse glances from random voyeur-bean Ray Ban heads cause his tongue to retract in a snail retreat. Alien beams lick his countenance in the peak lick performance. Fred had been abducted as a child, taught philosophy of self-preservation and hygiene, instilled with a persistent high pitched voicing of words, and put back in his normal house. He make believes that he was abused in order to feel better about his oral fixation.

Most people don't know what it means to drool in public.

Fred does... he does it because he's got an excuse handy.

Bitter Disappointment

Fred is angry. His five heart beats race at odd intervals. Rarely does he take the proper time. "Death will come to those who think too long and hard." There is no cause for his sudden rage, although any number of things can be attributed to it.

Fred feels justified. His wife will understand.

Oliva can't remember things now. The daylight shifts her approach. Wandering without purpose, she moves silently. "I hope there's enough dinner for everyone. I like dogs. Will I ever see a baby goat that can whisper?" She doesn't remember that Fred is sensitive about his third heart and hates when she mentions it around the dinner table. "Show them again, Fred. Look through the glass cylinder, everyone. You can see the valve pure as the crippled virgin." He's afraid, but reluctant to share.

Sudden changes are looming.

Volume Four is hysterical

Fred has peculiar talents. He hurdles barbed wire, broken bottles, and even his wife Oliva standing up.

Oliva likes to watch him. "It's not what that Fred can can hurdle, it's what he chooses to hurdle."

Like Oliva, Fred is a rewardable person. Fred's five hearts share with five more.

Credit cards, small notes, even car stereos.......................

......................................................
............Fred feels like a battery.

Rush to limitations

Fred:
[L, ad + propiare, to draw near] a conflict resulting from the simultaneous presence of two or more incompatible impulses, desires or goals, each of which is desirable.
...............................................Also called double-approach conflict.



We think it's childhood-onset pervasive development.

Fred is not happy

Fred tried to tie his shoe laces, but there were too many knots. So he sat down with a pair of pliers, tweezers and a sewing needle and fixed the problem. Too bad it took so long. The bus had already come and gone. He waited for 35 minutes by his mailbox just in case it remembered to come back for him, but it didn't.

Fred went back inside and threw his shoes on the table in frustration, and went back to bed to try again tomorrow. The sight of the dangling laces enticed the cat, who played with the laces all morning......................................mangling them into a knotted mess.

Document the Pleasantries

Carousing with nobodies was Fred's schema, and oh, was the night young. Oliva made no movements for twelve hours. She dreamed dreamless dreams.

Fred went too far this time. It is time to pull the plug.

"What a racket! Do you think she is still catatonic?"

The last days of a glorious opportunity

Fred smelled like shit.

All he wanted was assurance

Fred was a nice guy, I heard they planned on changing Friendly to Fredly. When Fred and his wife, Oliva kissed, they would always stare into each others eye's afterwords. Sing all you want and all you can !

I promise you, it won't last. It's not coincidental.

"I've got things to do, I don't want to be home by ..............................

......................................................................midnight."

Always. Be. Captive.

Sumptuous volcanoes twinkled in the distance, and Fred's five hearts sank toward his pockets which were empty. His first inclination was to try to survive his mother's birthday by poisoning himself with alcohol. The liquor store was covered in lava, the winery had been discombobulated by chimpanzees, and the drive-in beer and cigarette store was vacant. He used a blunt instrument to smash the window of the drive-in, and stole enough beer for his needs.

He partied with the wrong type of people. They turned him in.

"Why do you do this? Have you no soul you bankrupt priests?"

Several jail birds gave him dejavu. They grasped his ankles and raped him violently upside down. "Lavender," they purred into his ears. He knew that his mother would be so disappointed in him. "Why don't you all go fuck my mother?

............................................. It's her birthday!"

Almost Empty

Fred, now free from the gripping hands of time and reason, grew tired. As he closed his eyes, he dreamed of calculated risks and integrity. He dreamed of out of control cars and oceans swallowing children.

He woke with a renewed sense of displeasure. He was aloof.

"I've seen the various tendencies around here. These people cannot be trusted."

A bird landed a few feet from Fred's enlarged ankles. "Lavender," the bird seemingly chirped. Suddenly, he remembered it was his mother's birthday. "Damn these shoes. And damn you, bird."

"Lavender."

Lemon Tarts

"Stop stoking the embers, Fredly....or should I say Fuckly?"

"I don't follow."

"You couldn't."

Things turned from sour to patchy sweetness. Fred cautioned his thoughts. "Thoughts, I'm warning you. There's only two ways out and nobody so far has been of any use to me. But I love you, so let's not forget that."

It was raining. Fred smelled the rotten stench of milk that's six days beyond it's own salvation. "Why is this always happening to me?" he wondered as he walked by his intended destination without a moment's thought. "My mother has been dead for twenty years. I hated her when she was alive. I stopped recognizing her birth by the third grade. And I HATE lavender."

Darkness turned to light turned to seedy brown. Fred was remiss.

Fred feels sickened, but blames no one

Bells are chiming. It adds a silver lining to the dark, creepy head that Fred carries around.

The bed was a bridal gown sewn to the floor with invisible thread or, perhaps, plastic fishing line.
Fred decided to use a batch of scissor parts to break free.
He could not smell the perfumed folds.
Poor Fred is inept.

He's suited up to be a suitor but he's not suitable
with his ill-placed temper, his destructive tendencies, and his lack of olfactory perception.

The worries are forgotten as he hacks the last of the bedding away.................................................
he loves this.


Yes, why does it give him pleasure?

It's Alarming, but innocently dressed

Outside the body of Fred, there were 5 pre-processed joints embracing each other.
He could always see fried skin and sap.
A ditch of bottles and branches.
Twas graceful!

No one cared for Fred, carefully.
It always took 5 licks.
Infinitely.

Fred doubted indifference, contentment,..................

...........
..............................
Black air always tastes impure.

Fred is in favor of many things

This is the beginning of a series of events told between like-minded individuals with a real thirst for change. I hear it everywhere we go on the trail. People come up to me and say, "I feel it coming."

So let's begin:

In the body of Fred, their are 5 post-processed hearts fighting each other.
He can only taste potted meat and leaves.
A pile of cans and stems.
It's vulgar!

People care for Fred, carelessly.
It only takes 5 bites.
Once.

Fred feels anticipation, worry, ............................................................
White sheets only smell clean.