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Here is an interesting (bizarre) piece that I wrote shortly before a cabin canoe adventure with my friends. I intended to share it then but I chose not to. A wise decision. The story is essentially stoner food. Don't take it too seriously (I don't)

I can't help but to write about sexual frustration.

a Tale from the Dark Woods

Sebastion was the only of his close peer group to not transmorph into a soul-eating rot monster. He lasted so long largely because of his inability to focus.

The last member of his close peer group (also an attention deficit loner) lost his own humanity to Guitar Hero when his ego-vibrations hit the identical frequency of millions across the world who rocked out to Sonic Youth on Hard difficulty at the exact same time. The tune was originally transmitted from space into the heads of band members, like so many other alternative rock hits of the era. It was the song's heavy noise feedback which permitted subversive suggestions to come into direct contact with his friend's brain waves, and ultimately destroy him. Sebastion wasn't positive but he did suspect that his friend's finger movements during the song had adopted a rhythm especially designed to meet the aliens' multi-dimensional desires.

Another friend was lost after a fourteen-hour South Park marathon. Sebastion knew to never even sit nearby the television for so long. The galacto-political dramas of South Park proved too much of a strain upon the unconscious of Sebastion's currently employed, married, socially active and totally soulless former friend.

The woods that night--that is, the night Sebastion lost every morsel of humanity he had left--well, almost every morsel until he chopped off his--never mind then--the woods were chimmering softly from all the tiny robotic insects around. The muddy green trees could barely be seen by the prominent moon which hung limp in the sky like a solo white egg. It was there on that dusty porch that Sebastion was confronted by the superbeing from space.

Of course the encounter was no surprise to Sebastion. Any visit from space is foreshadowed, whether by explosions in the sky or the rabid, prophetic drawings of your seven-year-old daughter. Sebasion knew because of the album: "The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust" by David Bowie, and really, anyone else who had ever listened to the album knew, too. Sebastion was always amused when he thought of how most spiritual problems could be solved with careful study of that album. The superbeing came from the direction of the moon and demanded instantly that Sebastion remove his penis.

Sebastion winced then quivered as the superbeing's astro-voice tickled the inside of his skull. The penis to be severed might sorely be missed, he thought. He wondered if his hallucinations had evolved into un-recognizability once again.

Then the crickets chirped and changed their tone. "Do it. Do it," they chimmered. Sebastion's altered inner chronograph registered several seconds as actually having been twelve minutes long, due to his hyperactive psyche. Many images appeared and reappeared in his thoughts, images of gore and morbid drippings. Invisibly, the alien hummed. Castration... the word tasted strange upon his tongue. He heard a voice in his head:

"Cut your cock off. Cut your cock off." Only a machete could be found. Sebastion gripped it, white knuckled. He raised the steel and let it dip down, slow-like.

"Am I promised an enlightened afterlife?" No feedback was detectable by Sebastion. "What the hell. My cock is just an illusion, anyway," and he cleaved his crotch pork butcher style. The meat fell off the porch into the dirt. Sebastion's eyes rolled backwards, and the crickets did chimmer.

The superbeing, projected from within a fungus spore across the galaxy, smiled his immaterial smile and placed the penis and testicles inside his tiny space ship. Shrinking himself, he flew into the moon once more. Sebastion would remain unconscious until dawn.

He awoke full of new energy and made plans to live in a canoe for the remainder of his life, floating the riverbend with true contentment.

His cock-free life choice, he never regretted. If the alien superbeing from space--or, as Sebastion preferred to think of him as--God, hadn't demanded of Sebastion utter castration, he would be as confused and downtrodden as his lost, formerly human companions.