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Chapter 32: Living With Parkinson's?







Chapter 12: Larwillian Pornography
4.29.2002 Edited by Ben, every Sunday.


Thoughts raced through Bjorn’s head.

If he could be taken anywhere in time, then he could easily return home. At the same time, a return home would be pointless while he was being chased through the eons by a parade of historical figures.

“I… d-don’t n-n-n-know,” Bjorn stammered as he replied to his bearded rescuer.

“No problem at all. Will you allow me to take on a tour through time in the meanwhile?”

“Would I!”

Noah then walked slowly and deliberately up to the front of the arc, where he bashed a small knot in the wood with his fist. Immediately, the surface transformed itself into a futuristic console much like the one that was in Bjorn’s convertible.

“S**t! I left my ride back at the ninja convention.”

“That can easily be remedied. What time period was it exactly?”

“It was Ninja convention 1959 in Albuquerque.”

“I remember it well. Never before have my ninja skills faced so much of a test as from the beautiful, yet mystical Yvonne, famed Ninja of Springfield, Ohio.”

Bjorn stood rather confused as Noah’s eyes drifted off into a dream-like gaze. He took advantage of the pause to promptly throw up. You see, Bjorn had been on the boat for a good 10 minutes by this point, and the smell of animal manure was nauseating and overpowering.




They arrived at the convention center several minutes later, to find the convertible perfectly wedged in it’s parking spot with the front facing out, Bjorn would settle for no less. Bjorn turned to thank his bearded aide, but found that Noah has disappeared into the convention center, leaving his arc perched atop several cars.

Bjorn immediately hopped into the car and hit the center of the steering wheel. A car was incinerated and the console once again appeared. He quickly punched in a random date, the memory of the chase in the convention center still far too fresh in his memory. The car began to speed up and, with a blast of electricity, it disappeared from 1959.

Bjorn awoke to find himself in a time he couldn’t understand. On one had, everyone who passes was dressed in full Elizabethan attire. At the same time, a holographic television set was running only inches away from his face, showing wonderful images of turkey and gravy and stuffing while emanating the smells of a Thanksgiving dinner like those of the mothers of Bjorn’s friends (Bjorn’s mom never really was a good cook).

The smells then faded quickly and the screen now only showed a corporate logo with a baritone voice touting the delicious qualities of “Snider Farms” Turkey.

Bjorn lifted himself off the ground and approached a man wearing knee high socks and a hat with a feather in it who was selling newspapers.

“I’ll take one, please.”

The man handed him the paper. “That will be $35.48, please.”

Bjorn handed him a $40.00 bill.

“What the hell is this? I only take Larwills, not this old money. 1949! Damn, where’d you get this?”

By the time the man had finished examining the bill, Bjorn was long gone. He had sprinted around the corner and into a large building.

Bjorn glanced at the paper. The Washington Post: America’s Foremost Pornographic Newspaper. He looked at the date: Wednesday, April 18, 2035. He couldn’t help but look at the headline, which read: Dictator-for-life Mackenzie Larwill decrees that the ratio of pornography to news in daily newspapers will be changed from 3:1 to 5:1, public applaud his decision.

Bjorn was shocked. He read several more of the headlines: Larwill once again encourages polygamy, Larwill extends sex education curriculum to include actual sex, Larwill saves puppy from burning building, Larwill puts old man out of his misery.

Who was this Mackenzie Larwill and how had he come to take power during Bjorn’s lifetime and changed Bjorn’s world so thoroughly.

As he walked along the halls of what turned out to be a mall, this fear soon left him. Holographic advertising, electronic gadgetry and Elizabethan dress all surrounded Bjorn in a mish-mash of colours, sounds, and smells that he could only describe as both wondrous and extremely irritating at the same time.

Bjorn soon found himself pulled into a clothing store.

I don’t mean this metaphorically. A woman came out of Shakespeare’s Funky Fashion and physically grabbed Bjorn and pulled him in. As you can guess, it was a very large woman. Actually, as Bjorn took a closed look, he realized that it was in fact a man with long hair and very feminine features.

“What are you trying to do, get yourself arrested! Larwill announced a crackdown on anyone who wasn’t adhering to the dress code. Quick, get some new clothes on you.”

“But I’m from the past and I don’t have any working money.”

“Ohhhhh… you’re insane. Well then, I can write your expenses off.”




When Bjorn reemerged from the store he found himself wearing a very puffy red and yellow striped suit tucked into purple knee-high socks, adorned with buckled shoes and a red hat with a large feather tucked into the side.

Man, do I look smart, or what? Bjorn thought to himself.

Suddenly, an unbelievably loud bugle sound invaded the mall over the loud speaker. It was followed by a voice that proclaimed, “Please clear way for Dictator-for-life Mackenzie Larwill, hereditary ruler of the eastern states! He will be passing through very shortly to collect any donations you wish to give him.”

True to the voice’s word, soon a large procession made it’s way down the center of the mall’s aisle. At the front were four burly men dressed in predominantly black who were followed by at least a dozen scantily clad women. Behind them was a man in a carriage dressed in gold velvet pajamas.

As he passed, the mall-goers were enthusiastically throwing coin upon coin at the carriage. The money was quickly being collected by four small men following with baskets at the back of the procession.

As the carriage passed Bjorn, the man inside yelled a command and it came to a stop.

“Why aren’t you throwing money?!?”, Larwill yelled.

“I… well, I…”

Bjorn didn’t have time to reply before he was quickly interrupted, “OFF WITH HIS HEAD!”

One of the burly men curled off the front and grabbed Bjorn like a child would a doll. Bjorn was thrown into the back of the carriage, where he would be taken off to his impending doom at the hands of Dictator-for-life and hereditary ruler of the eastern states Mackenzie Larwill.

By Ben Piper




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