Artifice and Ash

How to Make New Friends (Or: Does This Smell Like Chloroform to You?)

Questions. Lots of questions. Not a lot of time to think about them, though, not with my leg bleeding. Why were we in that house? Knocked out, stripped naked, left in a pile with my best friend, and a couple of his buddies. Who would do that? Was it all faked? Those things had to be real. The bites in my leg are real enough. Those things… Were we… Food? The two girls, they turned into more of those weird skeleton dog things… Were we supposed to still be out when they changed? Doesn’t make sense. NONE of it makes sense. Three-headed skeleton dogs, an abandoned house with brand-new floors, invisible girls, vanishing tornadoes, a car that runs on blood…

Not a Typical Night at the Office

Waking up naked in an unfamiliar place is not uncommon, waking up naked in an unfamiliar place having been chloroformed is bad, waking up naked in an unfamiliar place having been chloroformed in a room with a bunch of naked guys is worse, waking up naked in an unfamiliar place having been chloroformed with a bunch of naked guys and without a weapon is the worst, waking up naked in an unfamiliar place having been chloroformed in a room with a bunch of naked guys and without a weapon when hell has decided to visit is unacceptable.

Take a deep breath.


Spiders. Jumping Jesus cinnamon-tits, I hate spiders. So, naturally, when I wake up in the hospital, whatever drugs I’m on begin to inform me that there is a spider on me. You know, the average, 30-lb, Corgi-sized everyday variety house spider. I think the scientific name must be something like “Holyshiteous Getitofficus.” The first time I saw the trip, it went away as soon as someone walked in the door. The safety of company must’ve shaken me out of it. Of course, then I was thinking about it, so naturally, even with people in the room, it came back. This trip’s been a lot heavier than ‘shrooms or LSD. I’m guessing Peyote or Mescaline. Apparently, Greensleeves doesn’t work on a bad peyote/mescaline trip like it does on psilocybin or LSD. This thing had a stinger in its abdomen, and after closing my eyes and humming my safety song didn’t work, I just kinda braced for that stinger to… well, to sting me. Now that I think about it, funny I should worry about being stung and not being bitten. But anyway, heavy trip. It seems to be getting less otherworldly, so I’m guessing I’m starting to come off it, so maybe not peyote. I hear that those trips require luggage, ’cause they last for days.

Is this what my drugs do to people?

This has been a fucked up week, granted I can’t remember anything until last night but I have been making deals…with people that I don’t even know. So get this, we wake up naked in a cold room in some abandoned farm house near the state line. Not all that bad, I am not shy so being naked isn’t the end of the world. This guy I don’t know starts freaking the fuck out, screaming about needing to get out because there is something here. For the record that dude has some serious anger issues. AJ tried to calm him down which seemed to work, he stopped talking which is good since that stutter is annoying as hell and then shit got strange…

On Mysteries and Lies(Or: Rude Awakenings)

Okay. Great. Fantastic. Got my leg stitched up, (a new experience to be sure, remind me never to do it again) got dumped off unconscious AGAIN (at least this time I know WHO did it), and woke up to a starting pistol next to my head. That was fun. Ringing ears on top of everything else. Uncle’s pissed, wants to know what’s going on (SO DO I) I try to tell him what I can, and the bastard thinks I’m LYING to him. “I raised you better” he says, and he’s RIGHT. He should also KNOW better than to think I’d lie to him. Fine. He gives me a jab about going to the No Snitch Stitch, like that’s proof I did something wrong. Doesn’t he get it? From what he’s told me, somebody might be trying to use ME to get at him. The more proof I leave behind, the better trail I leave, the more they’ll have on HIM. Man, my head is KILLING me… Is this what it’s like for people who drink? Incentive to keep NOT doing that.

Shit Hitting the Fan (in Slow Motion)

So I still haven’t gotten a nights sleep since waking up in the damnable farmhouse, simply to many things yet to sort out. Got my bite taken care of at the hospital, docs did a good job as usual. Had them go ahead an release me, no reason to stick around. Went out to the waiting room to check on Ajay and Alex. It seems Ajay isn’t coping so well with the events, can’t say I blame him. Alex is talking to that Terry kid (I think he’s the nephew of that asshole of an officer, Thomas Janson). Terry doesn’t look so hot, but he obviously doesn’t want to have the staff look at his wounds.

Jello Monster, Seriously???

I came to my senses about to be run over by a Jeep Wrangler after running for what had to have been hours buck naked… I don’t know what happened to the other two that were with me. That “thing” must have gotten them. Better them than me I suppose. I have been preparing for this type of shit. Lucky for me it turns out that I know two of the three people in the Jeep. I really don’t want to get arrested for running around naked, although at this point I am past even thinking about the fact that I am naked. I got in the front with Z and Alex. I have no idea who the guy in the back is but he smells like he took a bath in alcohol. He starts freaking out and Alex climbs in the back with him. Poor Alex…

Stranger and stranger...

Alex finally wakes up and I let him know that AJ insisted on going back to my former residence. Neither of us really wants to go back in the house. We decide to go to the gun range and shoot. I figure it would be a good way to relax after what has happened. Alex gets a call from Z while we are there. Turns out that he and Terry are going to come meet up with us. Once we are all ready to leave we head out to go to Z’s place. On the way we are given a package with envelopes for all of us. Not sure how anyone could know we were there since it was a spur of the moment decision to go.. At Z’s Alex and I explain what happened at my house. No way in hell I am going back there.

Please leave a message after the beep... BEEP

Alan Jackson Garrett is not available at the moment. If you would like to leave a message, please wait until after the tone. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please shut the fuck up and die in righteous hellfire. To skip the following menu options and go directly to the tone, press 1. To reconnect with reality, press 2. To reach the funny little voice that may or may not be Satan whispering in your ear, press 3. To stop trying to make sense of things and just go with it until you get a moment to finally shoot yourself in your cocksucking mouth like you’ve been trying to avoid thinking of doing for the last five years, press 4. To remember Alex mentioning that his gun is still in his room, press 5. To decide to go get Alex’s gun and shoot yourself in your cocksucking mouth once you are done doing what the funny little voice that may or may not be Satan tells you to do, press 6. To find a window that fucking breaks when you try to break it, please hang up and try your call again.

Thank you.


A Hell of a Morning (Or: A HOWL of a Morning)

At least I had the presence of mind to hang on to some of our stuff. All the way to East Providence? The mark on his shoulder, did I… Carry? Did I carry Alex all that way? I feel… Tired. Like I just had the biggest workout of my life. I keep getting flashes of HINTS of memories, like the scent changing from asphalt to concrete to water and back again. Ground against my feet, fast wind… Strongest thing was the feeling of wanting to get away, grab Alex and AJ and get away from that… THING.


I'm sorry, but we no longer support this web browser. Please upgrade your browser or install Chrome or Firefox to enjoy the full functionality of this site.