In My Absence

Though this would have certainly been much more timely about 5 days ago considering I still haven't written anything....eh, such it is as it comes to me.

A friend of my from Ancient English (I call it Ancient because it seems to me to be the best descriptive for a course that studies Homer, the Koran, the Bible, and...ancient Islamic poetry. I mean, hello.) recently posted his final project from the class. Our project was to mimic the journey of Dante, specifically purporting to be a microcosm of the Inferno. Jared posted his here and while I haven't read it yet (I will, I promise), he's a snazzy bloke so I expect good things from him. So here is mine, with weird, manipulated footnotes.

(OH!!!! I love the Darkness. I truly do. Erin, Damion, Marhsall, Andrew: I would have their rock-lovin' babies.)

A note: The stars were the only way I could think of how to include footnotes.

-----------------------------------------------------

Philip S. Gear
Dr. Naufftus
ENGL 205-H
December 6th, 2004

I Attest that Neither Drugs Nor Medication were Taken in the Creation of:
Mr. Gear’s Inferno or 1/3rd of a Comedy

Lost in mind, my ink-stained hands guided my Pathfinder. The bleak, overcast evening fit all too well with the end of my semester. It had to be a Monday, this thirteenth day of December. I know not how I stayed on the road, as my mind reeled from my comparison of Cervantes’ wicked down-spiral of madness, Don Quixote with Homer's Iliad*. I sent weak prayers that Doctor Naufftus would be kind to me.
I suddenly found myself in the parking lot of the Regal Cinema at Stonecrest. The shock was immense and I slammed my foot on the brake. I looked and there was nary a soul in the popular theatre. Slipping on my leather jacket, I got out of my car and gazed at the surrounding mall. It too was empty, startling my frail senses. I left the Pathfinder, walking toward the cinema, the one of comfort in this freakishly surreal experience.
I had too many dreams inspired by zombie movies, in which I was chased by hordes of the living undead in a lonely world, to believe this was happenstance. I walked toward the light pole nearest the theatre doors and leaned against it. A caw shattered the eerie peace around me. Looking up I spotted a crow perched on top of the light post. This crow was odd. It was drunk. I swear. By Thor god of Thunder, the crow above me barely stayed upright. I laughed as I backed away from the post, amazed at the sight.

And then I stumbled over a pigeon. I barely kept my balance, arms and legs shooting out in all directions. Finally purchase held and I spied the pigeon who usurped me. The pigeon had one eye. Not so atypical, however, this particular pigeon was not simply bereft of his other eye, he had a glass eye. It was red with a black, reptilian pupil, nearly three times larger than his other eye. The bird growled at me, grimaced even! My own eyes were wide in shock, even more so when a canary flew up to the pigeon. First the canary smoothed the ruffled feathers caused by our incongruous meeting. Yet then the yellow thing went ballistic, attacking the one-eyed rat-bird. Grey and yellow feathers flew from the mêlée.
This was all just too odd. I turned from the uproar and was about to walk towards my car when a voice called to me from the theatre.
“You poor child, lost are you?
Come to Miss Piggy**
find the assurance you seek.”
Miss Piggy? I had heard that name before. I turned from my car and approached the small figure propping open the lone door to the Regal Cinema.
“The ink now covering my hands
erases the otherwise clear memory
that would surely spring quick
and give me no cause to distrust.
So forgive, for this ink demands much of me
and I yield so much of myself.”

She stepped into the light laughing. And by gracious King George, the woman was a three foot pig!
“Have no fear of trust sweet child
I have been sent by the one trusted one,
Jim Henson***, seeing that you were lost,
unsure and weak in your words.
(Cervantes and Homer? Really, child, really.)
You have a chance to see others like you
who were too weak and fell, lost forever,
forsaking Art for simple pleasures
and now, never relenting of arduous measures.”
“Sweet pig, you are from my innocent childhood!
I shall follow you, trusting you as I would the great Henson,
but please, I have just been raked through the coals of a horrific final.”
“Tut, tut. Have no fear of temptation,
the weakness from exertion is the very reason
you and I are here.”
I trembled with excitement. All my life had I dreamed of the surreal and here it had found me! She smirked up at me in that way of hers.
“Would you like a pork rind?
Ach, don't look so shocked kid.
Where I come from, you need a sense of humor.

I took the lady's hand, stooping of course, following her into the darkened theatre. She led me to cinema number one, snorting occasionally. I gasped; however, as a rather stern, pimply cinema attendant bared our way with a waggling flashlight. He demanded with a squeak a ticket from me.
“What is this Miss Piggy?
I have no ticket for this runt
nor for the thousand shades surrounding us!”
“As I said young one, fear not and trust Miss Piggy!
Charles here will not bar our way, though he shall many others.
Get you gone and let us pass, pimple boy!”
I know it was wrong, but I giggled again, watching the poor fellow’s face crumble as he let us pass. We walked into the theatre and Miss Piggy led me to the forty foot screen. I happened to look over my right shoulder and saw a bright shining light from the projectionist's booth. I smiled and waved at the ghostly old hand that passed before the light.
“Soon that will come, listen to Miss Piggy now!
Beyond the screen lies the depths of popular culture,
You must gird yourself well, by the grace of Spielberg.
Rest upon the power of Cameron and Scorsese**** to give strength
you must be strong to resist its temptation.
To keep you swift of feet, we have these!”
With a flick of a hoof, Miss Piggy revealed two hover skateboards! I had not seen such great technology since Back to the Future*****. I was so excited that darkness began to swirl through my mind. Yet before I blacked out completely, I saw a vision of the Great Gonzo wrapping his nose around his body to damn a confessing sinner (quite possibly Madonna who was thrown to the third circle). The blue fellow's nose was so long, I could not have suffered that surreal image if I had been fully within my mind.
I woke with a start, a sensation of weightlessness surrounding me. I was hovering in midair with Miss Piggy beside me in a large forest. Beckoning me to follow her, Miss Piggy took off and flew through the trees. I smiled as the leaves gently brushed my face. The hum of the hover skateboard mingled with the sweet hum that I heard through the trees.
“Miss Piggy, what is that, music?
Surely it must be, and it’s so beautiful!
I hear, I hear, Queen!”
“So you do child, so easy to please.
Beyond these trees lies a campfire,
I shall wait on the other side - not exactly my cup of tea, you know.”
I flew off without even a second thought. Suddenly through a wall of green leaves a roaring fire appeared, around which lounged many musicians either plucking at instruments or singing into makeshift microphones made of pinecones. I spied my Queen, seeing him helping Janis Joplin to hit a high note. I jumped off the hoverboard and raced towards Freddie Mercury******. He stopped me with a big toothed grin before I could even speak.
“Yes, even me in Hell, yet worry not faithful fan.

I am not punished here in this first circle
It is beyond this campfire sing-a-long where that begins.
No, we are here because our lives lived beyond what we were given
Voices and swift fingers but never swift enough feet
to outrun the devil in the blues.
But the kindly old fellow above, along with puppets,
seems to enjoy our music when we lived
so we sing and play for him now, as we were meant.”
I was snapped out of my reverie by a sharp hog whistle from above me. I hopped above my skateboard, waving to Freddie as he and Janis sang me away. I found Miss Piggy and we descended a sharp slope which abruptly turned into a blackened plain. Littering the plain were hundreds of instruments. A man was racing around every instrument, shouting at each. With a look from Miss Piggy, I went off to find out the man's name. It was becoming clear to me that the wee pig was here to act as an enticing ham for all those that might hinder me.
I hopped down in front of the crazed man. He looked at me in a stunned manner, thumped my head, shouted and ran off. I ran and grabbed him, demanding his name. I shook him until he looked at me and sighed loudly.
“I suppose you need my name or something, yes?
Its no good speaking to me, the old man struck down my sugar-inclined ears.
Mozart*******, if you didn’t know.”
As I stood he put his hand to a nearby harpsichord and played a delicate chord.

"You like what you hear?
I can't hear a thing, deaf as a post I've gone.
You'd think the man would understand the people want sweet music."
Surely the wire-haired man said more, yet he kept playing that chord over and over again. I winced, its saccharine nature too much for me. The last I saw as I fell was his tongue sticking out.
I woke up in a slightly more wooded plain, though equally dark. Above me I heard a whistle and saw Miss Piggy who motioned me forward. I believe she might have been munching on the previously mentioned pork rinds. Before me was a rather portly man attempting to sort through about two million pens (the figure came to me later) with a single piece of paper before him.
"Hallo old chap, haven't got a pen on you by chance?
No, didn't think so, ‘tis just my fortune.
Dickens by the way, forgive me if I don't shake your hand,
my hands are rather cursed to forever search for a pen are dry.
I understand the old man appreciated my fiction, even Bleak House********,
yet he took umbrage at my periodicals, forsaking my words."
I backed away, suddenly remembering how his periodicals were so beloved by the public. I struggled to keep my senses as jumped onto the hoverboard and sped away to where Miss Piggy was waiting.
"Indulgence have you passed through,
and now come to violence, but we must stay far back.

You shall know all you need to know by watching."
We passed from the last remnants of the black plain, reaching a sharp cliff. The pink one bade me wait. I immediately spied Willie E. Coyote shackled to a safe just before the cliff’s edge. He whined as Cher drug an Acme safe to the edge of the cliff. She readied it and suddenly dropped it on the dashing Roadrunner. Unlike past performances, the safe squashed the self-righteous bird. However, Cher's failing eyes could not see what happened so she bent over the edge. Unexpectedly the edge cracked and she went tumbling down the cliff to join equal demise with the Roadrunner. I must have looked dumbfounded.
"Coyote can harm himself no longer,
Roadrunner dies in penance for the Coyote's wounds.
Cher finally dies a natural death,
unable to escape the final Grim Reaper.
Really, it is quite simple boy*********.
Naufftus did quite the number on you didn't he?"
Miss Piggy patted my head and we carried on. We flew down past the cliff, winding our way past dead trees and random poor (and only slightly famous) souls pottering about. Suddenly a beach presented itself, upon which was situated a rather sophisticated gym system complete with dumbbells. I went on by myself with my hoverboard under my arm. I found a lone black man attempting to lift a five pound weight. He could not though, as his arms were too skinny to even lift it a fraction above his shoulder. His voice was so squeaky as he strained to lift the wait that I laughed
loudly.
"A little trouble with the weight there Barry?
I wish I could help,
but I'm afraid the burden of proof is on you to lift it yourself."
"That’s Mr. Bonds*********** to you, punk.
I get no respect, I don't get no respect.
I had to be a bigger hypocrite than the Babe was, don't you see?"
My laughter turned to disgust and I pushed the frail fool over before hopping back on to my speeding skateboard. Miss Piggy smiled wanly and led me to the surf where a crowd of scantily clad models gathered. In the midst of them was a rather odd-nosed man in a suit. I got off my board and joined the crowd. The fellow was running around chasing the women, shouting all the while.
"Why won't these damn pants come off?
I can get them off for Monica and not these beauties?
Oh cruel world, please, please come off!"
"I'm sure the water is rather cold, Slick Willy************,
might help you cool off
even if the suit becomes a little uncomfortable."
Bill gave me a glowering look,
"I tried good man, I keep trying, but I can't get in
The water repels me and the pants stay on!
I say, you wouldn’t want to..."
The livid man left me, mid-rant and knowing my answer, to at his tightly fastened
pants. I felt somewhat sorry for the intrepid liar and was startled to find Miss Piggy waiting for me on the beach. Leaving our boards behind she led me onto the solid water as Bill began to shout jealous words after us. We approached a large group of people surrounding a great big glass elevator in the middle of the solid ocean. Inside the elevator was a rather portly man covered in plaid and a most unfortunate hair-do. Those surrounding the glass structure were pounding on it, shouting out:
"You betrayed our trust,
You raped our childhood,
Greedo didn't shoot first!"
The pig and I pushed through the crowd and entered the elevator with the horrified, crying George Lucas*************. Miss Piggy pushed the down-to-go-up button and Lucas looked at her with hope in his eyes.
"You mean, wondrous pig, you're freeing me?
After all these years surrounding by the freaks who made me
and who hate me for the prequels and changing the originals?"
Miss Piggy smiled grimly, shook her head and pushed the screaming Lucas into the hordes of fan boys. She assured me that he would make it back into the elevator once it returned. I listened to the quaint elevator music, reveling in my experience. Suddenly the elevator stopped and out we popped into the ground level of cinema room number one. Yet Miss Piggy had vanished. I looked tentatively outside the elevator and saw a ghostly image of Kermit the Frog beckoning me forward with a smile. He took my hand as the elevator disappeared.
"Before we make our way up the stairs,

I had a question.
Why Cervantes and Homer?"


* December 13th, 2004 – A date largely believed to be the date of an ancient literature final of which the focus was Cervantes’ Don Quixote. The continual comparison between it and Homer’s Iliad is believed to be humorous.
** Miss Piggy is often viewed as a window to an innocent childhood long lost and never to be recaptured but for the most surreal of times.
*** Jim Henson was the creator of the muppets, many of which are seen in this text including Miss Piggy, Kermit the Frog, and Gonzo. His presence as lord and creator is not widely understood.
**** Steven Spielberg, James Cameron and Martin Scorsese were three celebrated filmmakers of their time clearly called upon here for clarity and protection from the mediocre.
***** Back to the Future - a movie that starred the glorious Michael J. Fox and featured in two scenes a skateboard that hovered above the ground.
****** Freddie Mercury the lead singer of the supergroup Queen. Clearly Mercury is given a vaulted position here.
******** Although Mozart was a widely celebrated composer, he was often viewed as producing very sweet, popular and flighty music.
******** Much like Mozart before him, Dickens is both appreciated and scorned. Not only for the overproduced serials of his time but for Bleak House.
********* This entire sequence has been much debated and the meaning is still largely undecided. Often though, it is taken that the simplest explanation is the most appropriate. The author felt the need to readdress the Coyote, Roadrunner conflict all the while unleashing his fury at the forever undying singer, Cher.
********** Barry Bonds, a cruel hypocrite of the age when baseball was stained irreparably.
*********** Bill Clinton, a lauded president who was ultimately tainted by allegations of sexual misconduct. A wonderful target in subsequent ages of sharp wit.
************ George Lucas, the celebrated creator of A New Hope, Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi yet whose piddlings in his creations unleashed a blacklash that still has not calmed.