There once was a boy named Gimme-Some-Joy... He was nothin' like me or you,'cause laying back and getting high was all he cared to do.As a kid, he sat in the cellar...sniffing airplane glue. And then he smoked banana peels, when that was the thing to do. He tried aspirin in Coca-Cola, he breathed helium on the sly, and his life became an endless search to find the ultimate high.But grass just made him wanna lay back and eat chocolate-chip pizza all night,and the great things he wrote when he was stoned looked like shit in the morning light.Speed made him wanna rap all day, reds laid him too far back, Cocaine-Rose was sweet to his nose, but the price nearly broke his back.He tried PCP, he tried THC, but they never quite did the trick. Poppers nearly blew his heart, mushrooms made him sick. Acid made him see the light, but he couldn't remember it long. Hash was a little too weak, and smack was a lot too strong. Quaaludes made him stumble, booze just made him cry, Then he heard of a cat named Baba Fats who knew of the ultimate high.

Now, Baba Fats was a hermit cat...lived high up in Nepal, High on a craggy mountain top, up a sheer and icy wall. "Well, hell!" says Joy, "I'm a healthy boy, and I'll crawl or climb or fly,Till I find that guru who'll give me the clue as to what's the ultimate high."So out and off goes Gimme-Some-Joy, to the land that knows no time, Up a trail no man could conquer, to a cliff no man could climb. For fourteen years he climbed that cliff...back down again he'd slide . . .He'd sit and cry, then climb some more, pursuing the ultimate high. He's grinding his teeth, and coughing blood, aching and shaking and weak, Starving and sore, bleeding and tore, he reaches the mountain peak. And his eyes blink red like a snow-blind wolf, and he snarls the snarl of a rat, As there in repose, and wearing no clothes, sits the god-like Baba Fats.

"What's happenin', Fats?" says Joy being coy, "I've come to state my biz . . .I hear you're hip to the ultimate trip... Please tell me what it is. "For you can see," says Joy to he, "I'm about to die, So for my last ride, tell me, how can I achieve the ultimate high?

""Well, dog my cats!" says Baba Fats. "Another burned out soul, Who's lookin' for an alchemist to turn his trip to gold. Well It isn't in a dealer's stash, or on a druggist's shelf... Son, if you would find the ultimate high, find it in yourself.

""Why, you jive mother-fucker!" says Joy, "I climbed through rain and sleet,I froze three fingers off my hands, and four toes off my feet! I braved the lair of the polar bear, I've tasted the maggot's kiss. Now, you tell me the high is in myself? What kinda shit is this?My ears, before they froze off," says Joy, "had heard all kindsa crap; But I didn't climb for fourteen years to hear your sophomore rap. And I didn't climb up here to hear that the high is on the natch, So you tell me where the real stuff is, or I'll kill your guru ass!

""Okay...okay," says Baba Fats, "You're forcin' it outta me... There is a land beyond the sun that's known as Zabolee. A wretched land of stone and sand, where snakes and buzzards scream, And in this devil's garden blooms the mystic Tzutzu tree.Now, once every ten years it blooms one flower, as white as the Key West sky,And he who eats of the Tzutzu flower shall know the ultimate high. For the rush comes on like a tidal wave...hits like the blazin' sun. And the high? It lasts forever, and the down don't never come.But, Zabolee Land is ruled by a giant, who stands twelve cubits high, And with eyes of red in his hundred heads, he awaits the passer-by. And you must slay the red-eyed giant, and swim the river of slime, Where the mucous beasts await to feast on those who journey by. And if you slay the giant and beasts, and swim the slimy sea, There's a blood-drinking witch who sharpens her teeth as she guards the Tzutzu tree.

""Well, to hell with your witches and giants," says Joy, "To hell with the beasts of the sea--Why, as long as the Tzutzu flower still blooms, hope still blooms for me."And with tears of joy in his sun-blind eyes, he slips the guru a five, And crawls back down the mountainside, pursuing the ultimate high.

"Well, that is that," says Baba Fats, sitting back down on his stone, Facing another thousand years of talking to God, alone. "Yes, Lord, it's always the same...old men or bright-eyed youth... It's always easier to sell 'em some shit than it is to tell them the truth.

Edited by user Saturday, February 15, 2014 10:57:24 AM(UTC)  | Reason: Not specified

Yes creative for the real author- Shel Silverstein.

Please don't tell us you think Miller wrote this Walter.


TrashyPlagiarismPolice

ps...WTF starting a new thread? I thought you said you were only going to post on that "one" thread Miller?

Edited by user Monday, February 17, 2014 2:59:58 PM(UTC)  | Reason: Not specified

I seriously cracked up on this, I never said I wrote it. In fact I didnt even type the whole print out, I down loaded it. I just changed the name of the boy to protect the innocent, besides, we live in the day of internet, and as we all know here, anything I post here is subjected to investigation by whom ever, you know like picture's, etc, etc, Ohh like this story.

Now I could understand the replies if I threw in there that I was the author of the story in case, and of course I did not!...oh, I did have to throw in the word "Coy, because the real word,"JOY was used originally, and that was the name I gave the boy.

Funny thing is, I posted this story in the days of the study hall, when I was first bantered and dissed.

Maybe to be continued...

For the record, Ive always believed in the moral of this quest story. It reminds me and fits true on how in past times, and resent. I would give true story of
things In testimony, or true advice, just to be undermined and rebuttaled against. Or blown off like what I know is unheard of, OR NOT POSSIBLE!

Sometimes it seems as tho I live both sides of each characters in the story. The boy, because im still climbing that mountain in this game we play, just to slide and fall back down, to sit and reflect my losses in the game, and stand up again and climb back to the top, in HOPES, "(oh wow look everybody there is that word hope again) that a "CLAIRVOYANT VISION" that had been reviled to me unfolds as layed out of what i had seen. And that is being #1 in my field of rank as a true pro, and overthrowing the colo foos scene with a state open title.. Which has been my main theme since the ending months of when I was exiled from the study hall, for defending myself from being conned out of a winning match for first, for most reasons of TD's being tired of always handing me the first place money.
Like what Moose said once, "From all those times that everyone had been bantering and dissing me on the table, and off, meaning the forum, jedi finally snapped!.
Sounds familiar doesn't it. Here we are 7 years later, and its the same forum mind set. But what is not the same, is that im not the same player I once was like in the days of Scooter,s and the Study Hall. Ive made DENTS and MARKS
in my recent years, showing the social click peanut gallery, that It wasnt a good choice to rub my feathers the wrong way. Its like the bully that always wanted to pick on me, till that one day I surprised the unholy fucking shit out of him, when I really went off the deep end with him, landing him in the hospital fighting for his life. He lived by chance of God, and that fucking pest never stood in front of me again or anyone else in that school. I layed out and down a punishment at the age of 13 years old, two months later in December 11 th of 1971, I played my first games of foosball. Not because I liked the game, but because it was a way to channel and vent my inner silent rage, I found out that being involved in the arts of fighting wasn't a good way for me to channel and vent the rage of things that I held inside. because people got really hurt when sparring against me. So to vent without the harm of others, I
played the game so I could hit somthing like the ball as hard as I could to cool down the inner silent rage that has always been a factor for me to setting the chip on the shoulders... but like the story as Babba fats said, find it within yourself.

Edited by user Tuesday, February 18, 2014 6:13:21 AM(UTC)  | Reason: Not specified