3/26/2008, 5:06 pm
One dark, windy night, as I walked aimlessly through the internet, I came across a neglected doorway mostly obscured by time and disuse. It stood black and decaying in the midst of impeachforpeace.org. The door seemed like a black hole, sucking everything into it. Not even light could touch this place; it had been swallowed up long ago.
A single drop of contempt trickled down the front of the door. A wolf cried out.
It was the fora incognita.
I had heard the tales of this forum when I was younger, but had always thought they were just scary stories told to children to keep them from wandering off on the internet and getting lost. But here it was, the mythical place long said to be haunted by the World Can't Wait stalking horse Mikael Rudolph - disquietingly known as "the Mime."
I stood there before the door and said, "I'm going inside."
I grasped the unpolished brass doorknob and turned, it's forsaken innards grinding into action. I swung the door open, and there I stood - at the top of a stairway leading down into the Stygian darkness. Luckily I had my moonbeam plug-in for my browser, and I switched it on. The small pool of light illuminated the gray, crumbling steps enough for me to make my way down to the base of the stairway. The air was musty and damp, sticking to my lungs like the icy fingers of Hillary Clinton on a wad of cash.
I shined the light around the small chamber, revealing piles of old documents covered with dust laying on the dirt floor. Age discolored maps scrawled with directions to public parks hung upon the moist cinder-block wall. Cobwebs hanging from the exposed plumbing above my head wafted on the freshly disturbed air, and I noticed a light dangling from the ceiling. I yanked upon the pull-chain and the bare bulb scorched to life.
It was then that I could fully observe the disarray of this desolate catacomb. Piles of petitions were heaped upon a shelf, and next to them sat a jar of acerbity. Spam and penile enhancement ads lay in piles at various locations, and they looked as if they had been there for millennia. I stood alone in this clammy emptiness and marveled at the magnificent nescience that surrounded me.
A thunderbolt cracked outside, and my chill deepened. A cold sweat broke out across my forehead.
It was then that an ethereal figure began to appear from the shadows of the corner. Thin, spectral limbs began to pantomime the "rope pull" as the figure came fully into view.
It was the Mime!
My pounding heart felt as though it would jump from my chest, and my eyes throbbed with the beat of my racing pulse. I tried to formulate a retreat strategy like Obama on inauguration day, but the Mime's vacant stare kept me transfixed.
Unable to move, the Mime moved ever closer. "Immmmpeeeeeeachhh...." hissed the vile creature, it's hot breath turning my cold sweat to vapor, causing it to evanesce from my head.
Outside, the wind howled, and I wondered if I would ever get out of this terrifying place.
Suddenly I was seized by the Mime! He shook me violently as he shrieked "I am a borderline genius!" and "You're a digitally lobotomized, FAUXNews addicted, Bush-worshiping knuckle-dragger!!"
It was then that I knew it was all over for me, and any chance of escape or rational conversation was washed from my mind.
Then, spiraling into the swirling, giddy darkness that awaited me, I remembered Laika. I knew for sure that he would find me, knew that my comrades at The People's Cube would be glad when he had done so, and finally closed my eyes with a gentle and final gasp.
A single drop of contempt trickled down the front of the door. A wolf cried out.
It was the fora incognita.
I had heard the tales of this forum when I was younger, but had always thought they were just scary stories told to children to keep them from wandering off on the internet and getting lost. But here it was, the mythical place long said to be haunted by the World Can't Wait stalking horse Mikael Rudolph - disquietingly known as "the Mime."
I stood there before the door and said, "I'm going inside."
I grasped the unpolished brass doorknob and turned, it's forsaken innards grinding into action. I swung the door open, and there I stood - at the top of a stairway leading down into the Stygian darkness. Luckily I had my moonbeam plug-in for my browser, and I switched it on. The small pool of light illuminated the gray, crumbling steps enough for me to make my way down to the base of the stairway. The air was musty and damp, sticking to my lungs like the icy fingers of Hillary Clinton on a wad of cash.
I shined the light around the small chamber, revealing piles of old documents covered with dust laying on the dirt floor. Age discolored maps scrawled with directions to public parks hung upon the moist cinder-block wall. Cobwebs hanging from the exposed plumbing above my head wafted on the freshly disturbed air, and I noticed a light dangling from the ceiling. I yanked upon the pull-chain and the bare bulb scorched to life.
It was then that I could fully observe the disarray of this desolate catacomb. Piles of petitions were heaped upon a shelf, and next to them sat a jar of acerbity. Spam and penile enhancement ads lay in piles at various locations, and they looked as if they had been there for millennia. I stood alone in this clammy emptiness and marveled at the magnificent nescience that surrounded me.
A thunderbolt cracked outside, and my chill deepened. A cold sweat broke out across my forehead.
It was then that an ethereal figure began to appear from the shadows of the corner. Thin, spectral limbs began to pantomime the "rope pull" as the figure came fully into view.
It was the Mime!
My pounding heart felt as though it would jump from my chest, and my eyes throbbed with the beat of my racing pulse. I tried to formulate a retreat strategy like Obama on inauguration day, but the Mime's vacant stare kept me transfixed.
Unable to move, the Mime moved ever closer. "Immmmpeeeeeeachhh...." hissed the vile creature, it's hot breath turning my cold sweat to vapor, causing it to evanesce from my head.
Outside, the wind howled, and I wondered if I would ever get out of this terrifying place.
Suddenly I was seized by the Mime! He shook me violently as he shrieked "I am a borderline genius!" and "You're a digitally lobotomized, FAUXNews addicted, Bush-worshiping knuckle-dragger!!"
It was then that I knew it was all over for me, and any chance of escape or rational conversation was washed from my mind.
Then, spiraling into the swirling, giddy darkness that awaited me, I remembered Laika. I knew for sure that he would find me, knew that my comrades at The People's Cube would be glad when he had done so, and finally closed my eyes with a gentle and final gasp.
