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***BIO*** Space-Cowboy Poet J. D. Nelson is currently exploring career opportunities in the
food service and unskilled manufacturing industries. Visit J. D.'s website for late-breaking developments:
http://MadVerse.com
2006 zygoteinmycoffee Ink.
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Wax Trax
by J. D. Nelson
Space Cat sat down to his plate of sanitary food.
Green peas -- it was all the restaurant served. He
drowned his peas in ketchup and longed for the zesty
crisp of a tater tot. Space Cat stopped his own watch
for a change. All right -- it's 11:30. I have three
hours to wait before I can access the -- his huffle
was lumped and the next thing we know, old Space Cat
is strung-up in the gut factory. "This is exactly what
I'm talking about," he said out loud as he surveyed
the contents of his filthy holding pen. The macaroni
and cheese he'd eaten for dinner a few hours earlier
was coming back to haunt him. "Nothing worse than
ghost food," he laughed to himself as his stomach
churned and gurgled, sounding like a monster from a
sci-fi flick. I looked around for a while and
remembered that I was dreaming -- the best thing to do
in this kind of situation is to remain calm and stay
in one place, I thought to myself -- if anyone's
looking for you, that is -- I'm going to have to ask
you to excuse me, please. I got up from the table and
walked out of the dining area. I stood in the front
room, fumbling at my lumpen genitals with a claw-hand.
Someone's trying to tell me something -- that's the
last thing I remember thinking to myself before waking
up in a cardboard box out behind the dog food factory.
The sour stench of green meat pulled me from my
slumber and I knew before opening my eyes that I was
back in Denver.

Space Cat and Green P. had shared a basement apartment
in Denver's Capitol Hill neighborhood years ago,
before the city of Denver had completely been
transformed into a giant amusement park. Space Cat
loves popcorn, as many of you know -- and he made
batches and batches of the fluffy, buttery snack in
the apartment's small kitchen. Green P. secretly hated
popcorn (and most snack foods in general, with the
exception of nachos) -- he'd hide the cat's jar of
popcorn kernels, leave the butter out on the counter
so it became inedible, that sort of thing -- are you
beginning to remember the sequence? Take all the time
you need -- as long as you remember before midnight.
62
April 2006