I don't think this place is a desert, Rog. It seems to be a skullfucking insult to the deserts with their rivers and canyons that I know. The white plane seems to zoom on forever like saltflats. Why aren't there any mountains? The few trees and oases make me nervous. I don't trust them Rog, not one bit.
There hasn't been any for a while, nor people. This hellhole is a far cry from the canyonlands of our youths with vibrant rivers and slot canyons sprinkling high plains and mesas and the warm grasslands further into our neonatic pysche. They always seemed so nice. So full of nice. Why did we ever leave?
We probably needed to. I think we all needed to split up because we heard the land on the other side of the Wasteland™ was much much much better.
I takes a couple decades but then you can enjoy it
It'll be nice.
Time passes very slowly.
That's no desert, Bubba, that's the Lost Highway. Notice there's no ™ on that. That's the Lost Highway that Hank Williams Sr sang about, that Porter Waggoner wrote about, that everyone who's ever finally understood what the hell is really going on has driven.
Congratulations. You're ready for the finals. Just keep driving - you'll notice your gas gauge needle hasn't moved in hours - just keep driving and eventually, you'll come out the other side, where everything is bright and happy, and things make sense.
I can't tell you how long that will take, though. I've been on the Lost Highway since George Bush's pappy was president, and I'm still driving.
But every road has an end, right? Right?
The fast lane of this highway is the only way to go, by the way...just learn to ignore the horrible wreckage off to the left shoulder. The people who wrecked didn't have the right values, Pariah...they weren't serious about having a good time. They lost their nerve and tried to brake, and POW! They met the Sausage Creature.
The Sausage Creature, of course, is a bag of skin with no face and no consciousness, it just lies in a bed in a hospice, with machines making it breathe. Many good men have met the Sausage Creature...I myself have come close enough to see it, on the high side of a diminishing radius curve, on a motorcycle built for the straightaway.
But never mind that. Get in that fast lane and GO. Don't slow down, don't brake for small animals, and for God's sake don't even THINK about using the breakdown lane. When people pull over there, they never, ever get going again, and they just stay there til they die of boredom or dispair.
There are no exit ramps on this road, Pariah. Keep that in mind.
Huh. . .
I guess it's been so long that I forgot there was even a chair beneath my ass and a road beneath my tires. Probably those trees were set out by some bastard trying to kill me.
CHUMP! He can't beat me. I see through his ploy, and I'll keep on driving.
It was probably all just twisted metal or some mirage.
Though it sure looked real to me.
Time still passes very slowly
There's no use trying to get out. All roads lead to Fresno.
Quote from: Nigel on October 21, 2009, 01:38:55 AM
There's no use trying to get out. All roads lead to Fresno.
:x TAKE IT BACK, NIGEL! TAKE IT BAAAACK! :x
Quote from: Jenne on October 21, 2009, 03:47:58 AM
Quote from: Nigel on October 21, 2009, 01:38:55 AM
There's no use trying to get out. All roads lead to Fresno.
:x TAKE IT BACK, NIGEL! TAKE IT BAAAACK! :x
I can't stop the truth.
Quote from: Nigel on October 21, 2009, 07:56:03 PM
Quote from: Jenne on October 21, 2009, 03:47:58 AM
Quote from: Nigel on October 21, 2009, 01:38:55 AM
There's no use trying to get out. All roads lead to Fresno.
:x TAKE IT BACK, NIGEL! TAKE IT BAAAACK! :x
I can't stop the truth.
:argh!: :horrormirth: :x
:lulz: