Do Not Do The Locomotion With Me.
In the general questions of things, there are many little, smaller questions about the more specific things. And then, of course there are those other questions. The big ones. Such as, “What’s the deal with people?” Everybody loves them.
But, in answer to the question about what was happening in the mind of Chalk, the traveling salesman with the synthetic brain, there are many answers. The following is not one of them: “Yes”.
On the other hand, this is. While standing outside, Chalk decided, through a computation process older than time, that he would promote the use of things in public places, later that year. For the time, though, what he would be doing would be more along the lines of selling the cinnamon buns that he had grown to sell.
At the bus stop! Things were happening there, let me tell you. People getting on the bus, people getting off, it was a wild scene. It was deeply in need, though. In need of other things that would make the scene a complete Mr. Paperback bookstore, where they would sell the opportunity to purchase the one book that safely compiles all of the useless things that you always were yearning to gain knowledge about.
Chalk brought his certain fake charm and wit to this place. He brought his suitcases, which were filled with suits, hence the name, which would imply such things. Other stuff happened as the bus exploded into flames, destroying the aluminum siding that it was going to take to the city with it when it went.
Chalk changed his name to Martin Vain Buren McSimonitison Edwards, due to his dislike of... coats.
The same coat hating sickness had caused the death of many a sailor and sales clerk, but then the phone booths imploded, causing widespread hysteria, and the disease migrated into the fictional mind of Martin Vain Buren McSimonitison Edwards.
Martin Vain Buren McSimonitison Edwards bravely braved the fiery inferno that was the former bus! There was a shipment of black market babies on board that needed to not be! A hero! McSimonitison threw them each one by one from the fiery wreck, and directly onto the cold, hard pavement that composed the sidewalk. They would be safe there! That is, of course, under any other circumstance other than being violently thrown there. Which was the case at the time. As luck would have it, though, Pip, the middle-aged social worker caught one of the last babies!
It was actually his grandaddy, and the Grand-Pa of all time bit his head amid the baby-littered sidewalk. Then he was “destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical, naked.”
And Martin Vain Buren was off! As the bus was now ridded of its obscene firewood, it stopped burning! And that is a very good thing, because what kind of stupid jerk drives a bus that is on fire? Martin Vain Buren McSimonitison Edwards was an altogether different sort of stupid jerk, altogether. Martin Vain Buren McSimonitison Edwards (aka Chalk) was the kind of stupid jerk who drives around a pile of cinders that was once quite bus-like. And that’s what he did, and he headed in the direction of the city.
The direction of the city was down and out. So, following the most current and burned up phone book/road map in the world, he found his way to the city. Exactly 17 years later.
By that point, he was out of gas. But Martin Vain Buren McSimonitison Edwards was already in the city, and he put the bus in the appointed parking garage, where it was appointed that it would be put. So that’s where he put it.
The mob boss was waiting for his arrival! He had been waiting for exactly 17 years, and was filthy, smelly, disgusting, and malnourished from not moving from that one spot for 17 years. He wanted his black market babies. Martin Vain Buren McSimonitison Edwards thought that his time was up. Forever. Luckily for the existence of the whole world, the evil secret agent slipped the babies back into the bus when Martin Vain Buren McSimonitison Edwards wasn’t looking!
But. The kids were like 18 years old now, and the big question on just about everyone’s mind was: What was going to be the use for these hideously burned people? They could not be sold overseas as a corn substitute anymore, so the mob boss took them into his own home, so that they could feed him soup 24 hours a day, because he was so stiff he couldn’t move. That’s the sort of thing that happens to you if you don’t move at all for 17 years. It’s a fact, there has been research done. He didn’t have any money to buy soup with, though! So he used unleaded gas! Soup came by itself, at some point in time.
Martin Vain Buren McSimonitison Edwards had never eaten soup. The mob boss and his kids had.
Martin Vain Buren McSimonitison Edwards was free in the city, now. Martin Vain Buren McSimonitison Edwards took out his sign-up sheet, to get people to sign up to buy the sticky buns which he was in charge of ordering and selling.
With a grand total of 50 million signatures, he would be able to buy the 25 million cans of soup that he always wanted! The American dream was being put into motion. The wheels were turning, the gears were doing the gear thing that all gears did so well in that special, one of a kind gear way that only gears know how to do in such a gear-like fashion.
But then all of a sudden the sign-up sheet was torn into billions of little pieces by all of the people who had started a riot upon the coming of Martin Vain Buren McSimonitison Edwards. They were stealing all of the paper towels from the restroom!
It was winter. And it was cold outside.
McSimonitison was outside, and, conversely, was quite cold, in a chilly sort of way. There were some people out walking around. Later, at the end of their lives, they died.
But! At the time being, Martin Edwards got them to sign each of the torn up pieces of the sign-up sheet. The riot came back, and engulfed everything that was around. They all became a part of the riot.
McSimonitison was quick to replace himself with an exact facsimile, and was not noticed as he jumped from the sidewalk of torture, and directly into the street.
Martin Vain Buren McSimonitison Edwards was called Pedro by all of his friends. Sadly, all of his friends died in a horrible plane crash earlier that year. So, nobody called him Pedro anymore.
Back in the street, the guy that was definitely not called Pedro had escaped from the roaring street. He walked toward the bridge out.
Upon arrival at the bridge, much later that day, Martin Vain Buren McSimonitison Edwards climbed into the mystical dump truck of destiny, and left the city where things had happened, just a short time earlier.
A comet hit the dump truck a few minutes after it had left the city by leaving the bridge. Everybody survived, except the for ones who didn’t.
