[SIGNAL:][TARANTULA RUM=NARCISSTICAL FIX:]
August 05, 2003, 01:28

After a series of second layer defaults, I receive a mirror image replica message from anonymous sources; it read as follows:
[CLASSIFIED:]
[DECODED:]
“Primary colors are not a physical but rather a biological concept, based on the physiological response of the human eye to light. The human eye contains receptors called cones which normally respond to red, green, and blue light. Although the peak responsitivites of the cones do not occur exactly at the red, green and blue frequencies, those three colors are chosen as primary because they provide a wide gamut, making it possible to almost independently stimulate the three color receptors. To generate optimal color ranges for species other than humans, other additive primary colors would have to be used. For species with four different color receptors, such as many birds, one would use four primary colors.”

Thank you, annoymous source! 

{dawn}
Shooting the shit with James Joyce on the front porch, we are picked up by a gang of gypsy’s. They try to peddle assorted gifts; as jars of burned vaseline and homemade castor oil are on us. 
Joyce turns to me and says “I ain’t no goddamn son of a bitch” and starts swinging his fists in wild animal rage. He punched several old gypsy women in the face and lobbed a few of the toddlers into the tar pits. 

I traded fig tree roots for cake batter, subtraction flash cards, a Doris Day record, my stolen mail and an endangered caged bear. 

{midday}
[Message Received:]
[BULLHORN:]
[HEADLINE:]
EXTRA! EXTRA! STATE OF NEVADA CONSIDERS CHANGE TO ‘EVADA’ 

[CLASSIFIED:]
Greetings from LAS VEGAS, EVADA.
THEY PAVED HELL AND CALLED IT PARADISE
Danger Dan has stolen the ‘N’. 
[TECHNIQUE:]
Screwdriver.
“This is a direct tracing of the letter N from the word ‘Nevada’ on the definitive sign standing in Las Vegas which informs one that he/she is in that fabulous place. It took our hero Danger Dan about 20 minutes, a few shots, and a screwdriver to get it down in front of ongoing traffic. Enjoy.”

[BULLHORN:]
Also, in other news, Skunk Reinke has deployed a vigilante karma campaign. Bravo!

{sundown}
Search and Destroy all negative dopplegangers.

Contact Nvatalie Yours via [TELEPHONE WIRE:]
She tells me of a garden party she is throwing in honor of herself. 
She has even invited The Duchess along. What a gala event this shall be!
The sun sets under the vaporous envy eyes and sailors hang themselves in towering inspiration. The king looks down on thee, America. 

Busy looking at 700 6-letter words.

{dusk}
Report of a sabatoge banquet for The Diplomats. I receive orders to accept invitation. 
[MESSAGE RECEIVED:]
Black tie only. Extract exact verbatim. 
Karma Police Chief Carlton Abbott:
“We need you to go to the banquet for the french diplomats, we are sending along The Skunk for backup. Beware of The Gastro-intestinal mob and The cats from the Japanese flag. They come in all flavors. Good luck, Vienna!”
[END MESSAGE:]

{twilight}
When I got to the banquet the degenerate wagon had come and gone. The Diplomats had their heads back a-laughing; their corsets of naïve American males were in full bloom. The gang was sipping back on chilled tarantula milk and rum.
Some of them were getting off ugly on the stuff: snarling and biting at the jugular and also binocular vein. 
[VERBATIM:]
“I met the hammer head shark in Maine, and then it was with some guy with a white hat who had this fashionable limp”
It truly was hot and malty in the sharks womb. All the Mary Jane’s smoked eyelids, it was supposedly their day off, which meant they burned off their Y-Chromosomes: Like long black hair or snakeskin. 
French diplomats love converse and love to converse.
“check it twice! The mob has arrived!” say the short and ghastly ribcage pets. Drink, boy, drink. His teeth turn yellow and are too pale to ever blink red. They just don’t know.
Pepsi and tarantula rum= most disgusting thing, says Skunk. Oh, he’s here! We peel out by the waterfront.
“Danger Dan told me to buy a hamburger stand” I said to Skunk. He was ready to decap some degenerates.
He agreed. He needed to leave the sharks womb for awhile. All of the fumes were mussing his hair.

On the way to buy a tasty hamburger, we somehow deviated off course, due to female pheramone, and were accosted by kittens batting dandelions in the middle of the highway. 
Luckily, we met an old friend of The Skunks, who was busy eating out of the trash, and he told us how to get back on the track to the companies eyelit. Thanks to The Skunks grappling hook, he stole a hamburger from someone’s picnic basket. 

When I got back to the banquet, the gastro-intestinal mob had left their tracks in puddles of adolescent vomit and hickeys on some supple cleavage. 
Some boys were drinking tarantula milk out of a green grease trap with used matches. 
“EVERYTHING IS GREEN” 
battle the rattlesnake in the kiddy pool. I am the grass. 
Mr. X eggs enemies. He hates the 3 girl Militia . He takes revenge for THE NATION. 
I love Vigilante Karma
Rules of the game: one fine woman asked- “guess my name” 
French Diplomats are drunk- “what a paradox” “like a shock”
“I need to calm down”
The lights turn off. Jellied eyes and features smudge across the room. It is hard to pick up every feauture; every movement. Uncoil the social love triangle. 
Aquatic centipedes defiled French girls? “what a paradox”

Many try and infiltrate this report. They fight me with tarantula fangs that jutt out of their breath.
The paramedics have now shown up and befriend the degenerate wagon.

[CLASSIFIED:]
Paramedics are on the Gastro-intestinal payroll.
The French Diplomats LOVE American water.

“You are my fucking Poseidon”- Jeff Frechette 

[END VIENNAGRAM:]