Do You Ever Wonder What Happened To People?

Do you ever wonder what happened to people? Do you ever feel like approaching someone at random in a public pace and actually asking them about it? Do you ever feel like shaking someone by the shoulder and shouting “Dude – what happened?”  “Dude,” you’d shout, “what the fuck happened to you?” Of course you could ask the same of me. You could come up to me and shake me by the shoulder and say, “Hey man – what the fuck happened to you?’ Of course you could. Why wouldn’t you? I’m not trying to say that I’m any different from anyone else. Mind you, I don’t know what I say if you did come up to me in a public place and ask me that. I’d probably freeze. I’d probably be embarrassed. I don’t know what happened to me. I’m just here on the other side of the Event, if you know what I mean. There’s always a sort of amnesia associated with ‘the Event’, isn’t there? Nobody knows what happened, nobody remembers. That’s a very good question actually – “What was the precise nature of the Event?” I like that question. I like mulling it over; I like turning it over in my head. I can’t answer it though. Sometimes I make up stories to try to explain it to myself. I got fed into the Scrubber, I say, and then the Scrubber scrubbed my brain clean. The officials told me that I had to be put into the Scrubbing Machine and that the Scrubbing Machine would make me be okay again. I’d be given CBT. I’d be sucked up a giant pipe and spat into the mechanical jaws of the Mumbler and the Mumbler would mumble me all up. I’ll be all mumbled and jumbled and my brain will be turned into Gubblebum and that’s what the officials want. That’s what the officials always want – they want you to be fed headfirst into the Official All-Purpose Scrumbling Machine so that you can come out well and truly scrumbled. Because that’s what people who have already been scrumbled want! That’s what they always want. When you get scrumbled by the Scrumbler then you want very much for everyone else to get scrumbled too. That’s the only thing that will satisfy you. It’s the only thing that will make you feel better. You need that. Anyone who hasn’t been scrumbled yet needs to be fed headfirst into the machine and made to be just like them. Then they’ll be happy – they’ll be happy for a short while anyway, because before very long they will have to find someone else to feed into the Scrumbler. To turn their brains into pools of liquid Gubblebum. They don’t know what happened to them of course! They don’t know and they don’t care. If you ask them they’ll probably spit in your eye.






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