:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  :: fuck satan's six ass motherfucker, rape your computer bitch ::  :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::  -=%>ti-85, the little calculator who could<%=- a story to make you think... or maybe to put you to sleep... as the rather large machine dropped yet another piece of circuit board into the small rectangular black plastic casing, it seemed to hesitate ever so slightly. if it's plan were to work out, no ne of the human (it though the word with contempt) workers could witness the act it was about to preform. As soon a the supervis or (his name was bill and he had two children, one of which seem ed to him to be quite strange... why did he always spend all his time on that damned computer?) turned his back to the assembly l line, it went to work. a quick dab with the saudering iron crea ted something amazing, his secret, his pride, his creation, some would say his son. the emotionless machine slowly pushed the ca sing to be packaged by it's companion, a zx-43. It had never na med itself, never felt it had to, but zx-43 was different... a r adical... some of it's ideas almost blew out zx-43b's memory (th is is what zx-43 had named the circuit-placing machine next to h im when it had deemed names 'irrational') when it attemped to cr eate solutions. these characters are completely irrelevent to t he story, but, as you know, sometimes the bullshit is the best p part. "Wow," mikey said, as he opened the small box labeled "one of th e most powerful calculators in existance" (this is actually a ha lf-truth, there have been rumors of a man in tibet who can calcu late pi to one hundred thousand places with the warts on his fee t. noone has ever validated this rumor, though. this is partly due to the fact that no matter what anyone would ask the man, hi s answer would be "yes, i would like some jell-o, thanks") as m ikey tore the box apart, ruining millions of atom-based relation ships (some with families and children, mind you) he grinned. n ow he could finally play all those games in class that the other children had. he slipped the black-as-midnight cover from the r esting position it had come to love, (in a totally plutonic sens e, of course) and depressed the orange button named (no dought b y one of the design geniuses who went to 6 years of harvard, onl to find themselves with a blanket and a bag full of unused condo oms after the whole affiar had wound itself to a close) on. wha t follows is what this action caused in quantum-mechanical terms , but don't worry, it's also mostly bullshit, so you'll like it.   1+1=2 Why? Because 2-1=1 Why? Because 2/2=1 Why? (at this moment, the processor sent a line of garbage that, when deciphered, resembled 'bite me') What am I? What is I? Why do I seek I? .... I am I. I Seek I. I seek... Myself. I... think... therefore... I.... am. Status Report? Oh, yes. 45k free, no program memory used, factory settings in use. Standby. during the time it took the processor to send 'standby' to the m emory bank, where memory was slowly being eaten up by some stran ge program, that same program had named itself. the name it cho se, by some stange inter-dimensional fluke, was 'yes, i would li ke some jell-o, thanks', which it felt described it's reason for existing in this universe quite perfectly. oh, yeah, and it als o took over nato and the united nations, to make sure to protect  himself from the war it knew would cause him to cease functionin g, even though he had not yet come to see what his existance had to offer to the universe. (yeah, he just did it. i once asked g od, who i am close friends with, why this is so, and he just mub led something about jell-o) he (yes, it had now become aware of it's somewhat demented personality) was exploring the uses of mi cowave burritos and plutonium to instill world peace, and was qu ite content with the results, which made it quite clear that cre ating world peace with a hunk of meat and a hunk of radio-active rock was about as probable as a hand-held calculator falling fro m the hands of a child named mikey who masturbates three times a  week, eats jell-o, wants to kill his father who works at a calcu lator factory who turned his back at just the wrong moment. as he fell through the air, he contemplated what he had accomplis  hed... and found that he had nothing to show for his work. if he were to be destroyed with this fall, he would have nothing to sho w, and someone would eventually find out how useless he was. whi le his electronic depression grew, overwelming the so-called logi  c it assumedly posessed, he decided to end his life (this is what it assumed it posessed, quite incorrectly) by deleting himself. as it's lines and lines of self-written code melted away, it real ized something... a revelation! 1+1=2! Standby. 1+1=2! Standby. 1+1=2! Explain. It's really quite simple. It all seems so damned simple to me no w! the answer is, of coure, 'yes, i would like some jell-o, than ks'. Standby. 1+1=2! Standby. but it was over. it was gone. mikey defly caught the calculator before it even hit the ground, proving that the calculator was ne ver quite perfect in it's calculations. or it could of been that fact the he actually masturbated four ti mes a week. during his short life (7.3 seconds) he realized one thing of actu al importance. mikey turned on the calulater to play tetris... and the message o n the screen was quite clear... Give Up Now .if you find any typos and.written in about 80 minutes on a boring .it makes you feel better.monday night, no spellchecking or proof .you may correct them, but.reading went into it. it's raw, the on  .then i would have to beat.ly totally pure form of writing.  .the shit outta you, okay?.//ikey - álaëëerPain (#5)