Brain Hammer

Infinite Will
Episode 2 of 5
Time Travel Pills

2.1. MongsterZ

I have recently achieved infinite will power and I will utilize it (plus some time travel pills) to become, once and for all, God of the MongsterZ.

Basic Precept of Deicidal Reflexological Fundamentalism
# 3 of 10:
The most Holy Book and revelation of the first and final truths of Deicidal Reflexological Fundamentalism is Meditations on the Ecstatic Exteriority of the Particularated Ego, which has 59 propositions, each of which is obviously and literally true and let be known as “Blasphemer” any who dare say otherwise.

MongsterZ were die-cast toy vehicles popular when I was a kid. MongsterZ were decorated to look like, or at least be evocative of, classic monsters from film, fiction, and folklore. The basic shapes of the vehicles weren’t particularly special – they were just replicas of extant cars, trucks, planes, tanks, and what-have-yous. They all had four wheels (even the planes and tanks) and their axle lengths were identical so that they would fit on the tracks of the various MongsterZ racing sets. Thus there was no consistent scale across the MongsterZ, rendering the Blacula Boeing 747 about the same size as the Bride of Frankenstein VW Bug.

The MongsterZ also all shot missiles. Defying all reason, but much to the satisfaction of boys ages 4 to 14, missiles were shot by not just the tanks and the planes but also, for instance, by the dune buggys, the unicycles, and the golf carts. Each of the MongsterZ sported a single-shot spring-powered red plastic missile launcher.

The absolute coolest aspects of the MongsterZ - those which inspired religious levels of zeal and covetousness in almost all boys from ages 4 to 14 (and no small amount of girls) - were the multi-colored metallic paints and holographic foil decals that made each vehicle into a monster vehicle. The decorative exterior was the essence of each of the MongsterZ

The first production run of MongsterZ was. . .

The Klassic KreatureZ of the Kinema
The Dracula Dragster
The Frankenstein Fire Engine
The Werewolf Station Wagon
The Mummy Humvee
The Bride of Frankenstein VW Bug
The Blackula Boeing 747
The Creature of the Black Lagoon Suburban Utility Vehicle

The MongsterZ quickly became the hottest selling toy of all time. Many attributed this success to the MongsterZ’s aggressive (if not down right belligerent) ad campaign. The motto was “Become God of the MongsterZ: Collect Them All.” The ad showed a kid who became happier and more godlike as he acquired more and more MonsterZ. The MongtserZ’s glowing essences swarmed out of their chassis and into his ever brightening aura. As the souls of more and more MongsterZ were devoured he became larger, more fearsome, his eyes glowing, his smile of satisfaction ever broadening and then convulsing into a rictus of pure ecstasy, his eyes rolling into his head and eventually exploding into a catastrophe of lasers and lighting bolts. He became the Blind Idiot God of All MongsterZ and, glued to our television sets, we desperately wanted to become Him.

The second production run of MongsterZ was . . .

The JapaneeZ GiantZ
The Godzilla Go-cart
The Gamera personel Carrier
The Mothra Lear Jet
The Mechagodzilla Helicopter
The King Ghidora Ice cream truck
The Mecha Ghidora Unicycle
The Smog Monster Monster Truck

By the end of the second production run, not only were MongsterZ still the hottest selling toy of all time, but the manufacturer, MongCo, was becoming the wealthiest toy manufacturer of all time. Also at this time, however, MongCo found itself at the center of intense controversy. The shit hit the fan at the beginning of the Christmas shopping season where, in a period of three days, no fewer than ten MongsterZ related murders were reported. Most of the murders involved schoolboys shooting, stabbing, or garrotting each other during playground struggles over MongsterZ trades gone wrong. But one of the murders involved parents struggling over the last few packages of MongsterZ at an understocked toy store. The controversy and ensuing public outcry was largely focused on MongCo’s advertising tactics. MongCo was accused of every moral fault imaginable ranging from blasphemy to being responsible for America’s losing the World Wars on Drugs II and III and Info War II.

The controversy’s only noticeable effect was to direct even more attention on MongCo and drive up sales. Toy stores were depleted by insane and semi-sane shoppers intent on aiding their sons’ and daughters’ quests to become Gods and Goddesses of All MongsterZ. However, the kids’ primary concern was what the next production run was going to be. The majority speculated that the inevitable choice would be Kreatures of Kontemporary Kinema. No one predicted that the third production run would actually turn out to be. . .

The Elder GodZ and their ServantZ
The Azathoth Blind Idiot Chariot
The Nyarlathotep Nightmare 1948 Nash Ambassador Coupe
The Shub-Niggurath Fertility Golf Cart
The Yog-Sothoth Space Time School Bus
The Cthulhu Dream Cycle
The Fungi from Yuggoth Yugo
The Shoggoth Protoplasmic Panzer Tank

Being relatively unfamiliar with the Lovcraftian Cthulhu Mythos, 4 to 14 year-olds were initially hesitant to dive into Production Run III. Sales picked up, however, after rumors circulated of occult and paranormal occurrences associated with the new MongsterZ. Foremost among the rumors was the allegation that if five Production Run III MongsterZ were situated at the points of a pentagram and their missiles fired simultaneously thus describing an aerial pentagram with their intersecting trajectories, then one or more actual ElderGods would be summoned to do the bidding of the missile-launching Junior DarkArtists. Turns out, this rumor was totally true. Many kids were slain or driven insane by the annoyed ElderGods. Authorities cracked down hard, forcing a halt to Elder GodZ production and confiscating inventory. MongCo was allowed to release Production Run IV, which was the initially anticipated Kreatures of Kontemporary Kinema. Having had a taste of the ElderGodZ, however, rendered the kids entirely unimpressed with the new MongsterZ. Worse, for both the kids and MongCo, the kids continued to find ways to hurt themselves and others with the toys. And even though sales were declining, there was a sharp increase in choking deaths and eye injuries due to eye-ward missiles and inhaled wheels. There was a general recall on the MongsterZ and they were replaced with hobbled versions that had pegs for wheels and non-shooting faux-missiles.

A black market arose for non-hobbled MongsterZ, especially for the legendary and confiscated Elder GodZ. Over the years, as I grew into an “adult,” my obsession with MongsterZ only increased. I had to Collect Them All. At any cost.

2.2. Past Pete

I’m getting better at being able to simultaneously walk and toe-type on my ShoeComputer. Walking’s important because the impact-induced mechanical deformations of the heels drive the piezoelectric generators recharging the capacitors (capacitors which make for wicked-cool tazers in a pinch). I’m on 42nd Street and 8th Ave when I place my order. By the time I get to 34th Street and 5th Ave, a bike courier has located me by the GPS broadcasting from the little thingies at the ends of my shoe laces. (What the fuck is the word for those things?)

Basic Precept of Deicidal Reflexological Fundamentalism
# 4 of 10:
Let be known as “Blasphemer Plus” those who take delight in pointing out that nowhere in Meditations on the Ecstatic Exteriority of the Particularated Egoappear the words “foot,” “reflex,” “massage,” or any of their cognates.

I sign for the package and duck into a Queequeg’s. I grab a table without ordering. I tear open the crappy brown card-board box and reveal yet another box. The inner box is slick with lamination and bears in promising sans-serif “Take pills. Travel in time”. Dude. That’s the first and last bit of English discernible in any part of the packaging. The accompanying literature is all extraterrestrial gibberish as are the tiny symbols printed on the pills themselves. From what I can figure by looking at some of the drawings of pills grasped in tentacles, and pills popped into what I hope to be mouths (dude, these may really be time travel suppositories for all I know), before swallowing you are supposed to twist various portions of the pill to select the target time-frame.

This is going to be a total crap shoot. How do I know I’m not going to wind up in a dinosaur’s asshole? I do not care. I am desperate. I am reckless. I am a reckless bad-ass mother-fucker. Here goes. I twist, pop, and wait. The Queequeg’s shimmers and dissolves.

Reality resolves and I’m in a darkened room. Mother fucking jackpot: I recognize this as my bedroom from way back when. A fat teenager sleeps in the bed. I don’t know when the pill is going to wear off, so I don’t wait to start rifling through various drawers and boxes trying to remember where I left my MongsterZ. The sound of the ruckus frightens Past Pete bolt upright. Cowering behind covers, his bulging eyes peek over the top.

“W-w-wha. . .,” Past Pete stammers. “What are you doing here? Who are you? What do you want?” The poor DumbAss is out of his mind with fear. I flip on the light. “Hey. Chill, man. It’s cool. It’s me. I mean, you. I mean, I’m you from the future.”

Though I’m older and thinner, the resemblance is pretty damn obvious and young DumbAss here isn’t a total idiot. He comes around rapidly. “Wow. Future Pete?”

“No,” I say. “But I talk to him like all of the time.”

“Wait. What?”

“Oh, sorry hold on. Ok. Yeah. To you, I’m Future Pete. But seriously: I’m no Future Pete. You, dude, are Past Pete. I’m Slaughterhouse Pete.”

“Wait. What?” Past Pete stands up out of bed now to get a better look at me or something. He’s in his tighty whiteys and a Bat-Winged-Skull-Chickens concert tee. He reaches out with a pudgy paw to grasp my ripped upper arm. This is getting a little gay. I wince at his touch.

“Hey, back off man. I’m in kind of a hurry here. I need the MongsterZ. Where the fuck did I, I mean, you, put the fucking MongsterZ, man?”

“M-M-MongsterZ?”

Oh fucking Jebus. “Yeah, MongsterZ. You know: ‘Become God of the MongsterZ: Collect them All,’?”

“Oh yeah. I got rid of those about a year ago. That’s kid stuff. Besides, I traded them for the first ten issues of the Behavior Girl and The Solipsist comics. Remember?”

What the fuck is this kid talking about? “What the fuck are you talking about?” I have no fucking idea and the room is getting a little shimmer to it. I’m getting pretty pissed. I feel weird, and figure that the pill is wearing off. But mostly, I’m just pissed.

“Thanks for ruining my life, asshole.”

Past Pete gets this shocked/placating look on his face and reaches out to touch me again. I punch him hard in the Adam’s apple. He falls to the floor and cries like a little girl.

I feel a click and a vibration in my gut and the room dissolves. I am fucking out of here.

Study questions:

1. What, if any, is the metaphorical significance of MongsterZ and the author/narrator’s quest to become God of the MongsterZ?
2. Seriously, dude. What the fuck is the name of those little thingies at the end of shoelaces? This is going to drive me nuts all day.
3. Whoa. I just realized that the DeRFs, like, kill God and stuff and I said, I mean, the author/narrator said he wants to become God. Well not God, but God of the MongsterZ. Foreshadowing? Or co-inky-dink?
4. Your answer to question 3 cannot be anything along the lines of “see my answer to question 1.” I’m not giving you any other hints. What? Who just asked whether 4 is a question? That, my friend, is the question. Ha ha.

Suggested further reading:

Meditations on the Ecstatic Exteriority of the Particularated Ego

—
Next episode: Did I Mention the Part About Your Brain?

This entry was posted on Thursday, June 17th, 2004 at 12:49 am and is filed under Infinite Will, Fiction. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.