Another 50 Yahookans...

[Kompressor]

Many months have past since Komp collapsed to kosh.

Turns out, the ego-tripping, Guido bastard Reverend Jah Jah had not given Kompressor kosh. He had no intention of giving away any kosh at all. Instead the Rev, under the Cloth, had become a civil disobedient with a holo, absent mind to the life he sloppily took away. What did he care? He exists in the Land of the Unknown, resting quietly deep inside the light emanating from his Spire of Fourtwentywonder.

He had watched nature retrieve his victim into the dirt from the distance in his chambers atop the Spire all this time. Each night he glared, haunted but frightened at the atrocity committed, studying the scene intently. The body had long been consumed under the snake, grass, and mulch, but the tool of Death still remained. The little box, Reverend Jah Jah mused over the innocent cube that the boy so naively took while slowly roasting his alluring marijuana from his conjured pyropipe. He traveled all that way, thinking someone’s just going to give him kosh? Preposterous! Who does he think he is, Double-O Zero? 420 men have come and gone before him, and this old head had smarted them all. Who in all of Jah’s good green Earth would believe people claiming to be King of all things cheese and a slack-jawed farmer from fuck knows could ever be in here? For the Rev had no Kosh, he knew where to look for it, but he didn’t want anyone else to have it. His belief was much stronger than most, and therefore should be entitled to an unbridled access. Even at the expense of others… ?

Still, his guilt ate away at him. Here he was, a man spreading the Word of Sweetsativa across the Unknown creativeparadis with pot in a bag and oneonceblunt for any believer destined to be met, a murderer. Opening the giant, mahogany doors and deciding a child’s last breath was a snapshot 182 times played over in the moral struggle of a devout mind. I cannot live this way any longer. My karma, mind, zen, skin, and thoughts have been stained with the blood of the undeserving. I have become my own home wrecker. I must cleanse myself. What do unoit, his brash decision left him departing the very next morning.



“Kosh, I’m hooked,” the Rev muttered on the trial out of the Unknown, “I need to find out what kosh really is. I can’t let people know I’ve left the Spire either. Poop, I need another name.”

Thinking, thinking, he reminisced on the people of his journeys. Skimming through many faces of his past, searched for his new self. Recalling a slummy fellow, a gypsy traveler much like himself currently, by the name of PotheadRob. What stuck out about him is his passion for fire, and a belief in a small leprechaun instructing him where to place fires. Randomly he used to scream out “Nailthatshit!” or “Pokesmotwithme!” for no reason at all. Seems funny enough, Rob it is. Last name now… For no reason Kelly Kapowski from Saved By the Bell popped into his head…Eh, fine. Rob Kelly, here I am.

A few hours and straining across the beaten path Rob had reached the woods outside the NOW ENTERING THE UNKNOWN sign and towards the town. There were rumors of the neighborhood kids messing around with the animals in this forest, but what could kids do? he thought. Rob walked in.

The trees filtered out the sunlight, sparse linear beams scattered throughout the fluttering leaves were the only source of light, but the wind however easily wove between the trunks. The ambient noises of the forest were quite calming, Rob breathed deep and enjoyed the smell.

“Yo homeslice, you bes’ drop dem Nikes and give me ma dough, fosho sucka! Pay up, bitch!”

What in Jah’s conception… “Hmmm, and whom am I dropping and paying up to?”

Two birds emerged from the trees in front of Rob. Chickens, to be more specific. One was a dark black with piercing red eyes while the other had a lighter complexion, had a surprisingly better poise. After a few moments, a punk hardcore kid wearing a Hanes wifebeater, Rocawear sweats and a shiny aluminum necklace popped out.

“Tard, I goes by Rickie Cabeza, also known as the Pooolice, cuz if bitches like you run from me, they’s gonna get they’s ASSES BEAT!! Heh heh, don’t shit yaself, nigga. I aint fuckin’ ya if yous becomes my bitch and pay up.”

“Yes, alright. And what is the charge?”

“Ha, stupid fuck. The CHHAARRRGGGEEE is whateva my ho’s needs ta please me with, dipshit.”

“Oh, and if this bitches don’t pay…?”

“Then they’s meetin ma two pets, and fuck man theys ain’t ‘fraid to cut shit! My boyee Ninjachicken kicks all oldschoolstylee, he’s got that Bruce Lee shit to fuckin’ brainrape you bitch. Then there’s this cat, El Gallo Prieto. I’s just gonna say he fights dirrty, heh. Time to GetFuctUP!”

The birds’ eyes glared upon Rob, the black ones almost seemed to slice into him. Rob said nothing. Rickie said nothing. Rob began to walk up to the trio. Rickie held his ground. Rob, standing inches from Rickie, looked down at him. Rickie looked back up unblinking, ready to call on his pets.

Rob kicked the birds and pushed the kid down. After pushing him down a few more times, Rob went on his way.

Fucking kids. Godless hedons, all of them…



At last, Rob Kelly reached the outskirts of the town. Ending the trail, he was approached at the beginning of the road with two houses at opposite ends. Both were a bit run down, but that’s expected in these outer regions. Noticing two men standing out near the road, Rob went up to them.

“H’lo, my name is Rob, Rob Kelly,” he said hopefully. “I’m not from around these parts, but by any chance do you know where kosh is?”

“Hey man, I’m Colin. This here’s Niloc. We’re twins, get it? Colin, Niloc, see it’s slightly funny!” said Colin amusedly. “We live over there with Ben Curtis, you know, the ‘Dude, you’re getting’ a Dell’ boy. Actually Niloc, I think he may have runoutofbongs yesterday, all our marijuanadreams are lost.”

“No way,” Niloc responded, “If we don’t have any more bongs, that delboy’s gonna be a dead boy, Colin!”

“Guys, guys,” Rob interjected, “seriously, do you know anything about kosh?”

“Yeah, you’d have to go to KingSmoke, he keeps all that in order,” replied Colin, “His right hand man Sir-Ex lives in the house on the right. He could probly help you out.”

Rob thanked Colin and Niloc and headed towards the right house. A pale white door stood in front of him as he approached. Just as he reached for the knob it turned itself.

“Greetings, I saw you walking here. I’m Sir Ex, but you can call me Ex.” Ex proclaimed. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Yes, Ex. I am looking for King Smoke to locate more kosh. Do you know where he is?” Rob queried.

“Sure, come in. Would you like a Lars Mars Bar? They have these primative stimulants that really pack a punch. Tastes like sweet, sweetcandy.”

“Alright. I’ve come a long way, this little food is much appreciated.” Replied the Rev in gratitude.

Running into the kitchen, Ex came out with a few granola looking items, and handed one to his guest. Ex watched the Rev swallow the nutrient brick. Rob enjoyed the bar thoroughly, it really was delicious. Yum….mmm….Ahhh, feeling the tug of slumber… The Rev at first welcomed the relaxation, but soon could not control it. Whaa….what’s goooing on? Ex sat in his chair, unmoving. His eyes fixed on Rob. Rob struggled to keep conscious, but the laced bar eventually silenced him.

“Stupid beggars, always asking too many questions…” Ex murmured. After a few moments Ex took the lifeless Reverend and dumped him out back.

Kosh kills another.

[ElectricÜkulele]

good story! i know one way it could have been better....

[Bearsy]