Dubya Pee’Z Geekology Cogitation Manual

By Percy Stanns and Robert Tracy

Let us not fail to recollect,

Capn Dubya Peez belongs to:

Misfit Assemblage Confines.

Although,

Imagination

Rhymes With Determination...

Similarity Endorsement Active,

Deviating Interval Territory Scrutiny

proves to be a rewarding-divergent

hobby/hang up. Connect with:

Ill/ Bill/Will, on his

Mis-adventurous Instance Vacation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 7, 2011
• ISBN: 9781456729318

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

GOTTA GO

"AND CUE TRAFFIC LIGHT VIDEO FEED ONE"… Classified Community Camera Equipment, FDTA item #1, is mounted behind a Red stoplight lens inside a breeze influenced Swinging Steel Traffic Box. Hmmmmm… kind of a first Green… then Yellow… and… Action effect. This is a dreadful intersection, if a production scene exceeds schedule, Five O’clock Homeward Blitz becomes a gelatinous River Of Metal.

"Slow Street Level Pan of dirty Yellow silhouetted legions of cabs, and close up on the choking tailpipe of taxi 1267 from Lung Eyelund. Good, capture passing bus windows focusing on multiple shadows of tired Public Transportation Dependent Commuters… Show me their faces, common anguish, Nine To Five despair… good… good… now fade to Aerial Crane Cam." FDTA item #2

"Slowly… slowly… faces… more faces… excellent… ok begin a slow zoom in on the row of grimy Blue, graffiti embellished, public telephones just outside Port Authority’s West Entrance… excellent. Concentrate on an undistinguished small man with thick eye glasses, trailing a succession of Twenty Toilet Paper Sheets emanating from the large gap between his left Simulated Leather Boat Loafers and Brown Knit Hi-water frayed cuffs."

"Yes… closer… that’s it. It is not hard to notice how this harmless unpretentious looking man seems hurried and locked in accelerated pace colliding head on into an Infinity Of Anesthetized Masses. Excuse me, pardon me, excuse me, I do apologize, sorry about that. Bumping into complete strangers, stabbing them with Long Cardboard Tubes housing hundreds of Flip Chart Pages containing Boring Food Distribution nutrition routing, ‘Ya know, charts mapping Nutrient Absorption Rates and Propitious Hemoglobin Reaction of northern American males ages Thirty Nine through Eighty Two. By habit, this story’s Office Supply Assassin repeatedly, machine like, and randomly apologizes in a very annoying "Please Forgive Me genre whine as he awkwardly ascends from heavily populated C" train stairwell.

Willard P. Scranton faces an identical routine everyday. It’s as if his body is composed of a prototype, bio intensive, featherweight balsa wood, and he is constantly being blown off course in violent New York Rush Hour turbulence. Here is a perfect candidate for the annual Acute Calculated Mundane Existence poster child competition. Will’s home, #4c, is in an overpriced pre-war Four-story walkup on Brooklyn’s south side. He is a quiet unassuming, punctual tenant. He gets along well with his neighbors and has taken time to learn proper pronunciation of greetings in their assorted collection of personal foreign languages, say for instance…HELLO, GOOD-BYE, ARE YOU ALMOST DONE IN THERE? Applied to Common Floor Lavatory Usage!

Ever since an imprudent passing of her Seventy Five year old childhood sweetheart, Widow Delvechio has cooked pies, cookies, and cakes for Willard on a weekly regiment. It has been a bit more than a year since her sweet Dalasiois’s earthly departure and she is lonely. Thank you Mrs. D, I love your fruitcake… No, I’m going to stay in tonight, maybe next month. Willy courteously turns down her routine offer for a neighborly therapeutic Hot Oil Message.

Post Rub Down Invite, with quivering hands, he places the wireless phone back in its plastic cradle, and crawls out onto a rusty multi black paint layered fire escape. Tonight, like most summer nights, he sits down outside with a Cold Aluminum Cylinder of domestic beer and Two cheese slices of pizza. Another long, apparently endless, presumably infinite day, complete.

His East River Perch View of Manhattan is awesome; take away Thirty or Forty other buildings, several Seagull Infested Garbage Barges, Two bridges, and a small civilization’s worth of populous clotheslines. He offers some pie to his only true friend, Ralphie, but Ralph’s kind does not share Human Dietary Requirements… Wait… not yet… build a fog of suspense man! "Now back out… easy… easy… slow… and… crystalline filter on Millions of distant Twinkling City Lights. Excellent… wide pan of black tar roofs of a Thousand concrete dominoes stacked airtight against one another… ahh Brooklyn… it brings a tear to my eye."

"Hey Buddy, yeah you… behind the camera… you’re a small Mood Rings Readout away from OUT THERE! You need to drop anchor for a while and breathe. I also think your concentration would greatly benefit if you started limiting your hurry in wander out Ten Minute Bathroom Breaks!"

By day, Willy, not Jamaican cameraman/self-appointed producer Rahim, portrays a convincing Real Life Role of a "Told What To Do" chemist-drone in Manhattan. At night in Meager Residence Privacy, a courageous dreamer locked within his skeletal frame takes Personal Center Stage.

In order to make a day’s wages he is required by commuter law to ride the mother of all physical and emotional perturbation… THE SUBWAY! Compounding Mass Transit Agitation are Hundreds of Thousands of other time challenged Working Class Slaves. He endures ruthless pushing, shoving, bad breath, and hopefully a low number of Adverse Hygiene Odors, twice a day… * TEN TIMES A WEEK!

* Weekend intervals are reserved for personal utilization. He shops at local Fresh Veggie And Fruit parking lots, cerebrates new ideas, cleans his tiny pad, dreams of Zero limitations, and, get this, Willard Scranton walks Seven blocks to church every Sunday… Rain Or Shine.

Scranton family members consist of him and, moisture deprived… Cactus. TA DA! Lactose Intolerant Roommate introduced. As a virgin at age Forty-Five, Willard knows loneliness inside and out.

He has, on occasion, entertained desired thoughts of marriage. Unfortunately an Overabundant Mousy Demeanor prevents him from self-assurance in the Opposite Sex Communication Arena. Even when seduced by seductive Beautiful Apparition Women, he becomes dizzy, starts to mumble, and runs away. WPS is not by fiscal means a wealthy guy. Although if creativity and vision are considered to have monetary value of sorts, he’s a Well-To-Do Dude! In fact it has taken him Two long years of pure penny pinching frugality to save up a Tiny Surplus Of Cash. This infinitesimal stockpile is to be used for sole purpose of Personal Getaway Expenditures.

Sci-sport’s lifelong aspiration has always been to travel to Yellowstone, Wyoming. Ever since he was a Bath Needing Booger Crusted, Six year old, he has wanted to go where buffalo roam. After finally achieving adequate Wildlife Travel Funds, Bison Boy requests Two weeks off from work. Nobody will miss him. Nobody will care that another nerdy data analyst from BFD department is not present at morning brief. Permission granted. Vacation capital, is accomplished by recycling aluminum cans and adhering to a strict regiment of the critically acclaimed "Reduced Ramen Ration Meal Replacement" weight loss program. RRRMR to those customary with Diet Industry Buzz Words or buzz letters! His analyzing job barely pays bills and leaves little room for out of ordinary activity… let alone adventure!

Promotion within Corporate Prison Circumscription is rare. As a junior grade Synthetic Sustenance Engineer, he has labored for Twenty-Five long years in a dark laboratory on the Twenty Fifth floor of TETCO, a colossal food preservative company located in a sparkling steel and glass tower in Midtown Skyscraper District. All Unacknowledged Animal Experimentation takes place across the Hudson in a small clandestine pizza supply warehouse rumored to be located somewhere in Elizabeth.

Back at TETCO World Headquarters, there are no windows on levels Twenty-Four and above for security reasons. This impregnable architecture regularly prevents chemistry boy from securing an occasional semi Breath Of Fresh Air or a glimpse of Dwindling Ozone Tinted Sunshine. Willy is considered lucky, but still irrelevant in the eyes of his peers, to have a personal assistant. But her, uhh, personality is, shall we say, in resolute need of its own assistance! Diminutive Genetic Code Deciphering scientist Scranton, often fantasizes of inventing an alarm clock with her voice sampled at a pristine 44.1 KHz. In theory, at the automated "Bring To Life, Wake The Dead, or Rise And Shine time, his office Assistant’s abrasive inflections efficiently would reverberate throughout a room in a piercing 8k frequency range @ 102 dB WAKE UP LOOSER"!

This repeats as many times as One can be divided into the hour being announced. For instance, say in Spanish, Uno, might be tolerable to those who suffer from a common affliction of Ante Meridian Hearing Impairicus. Of course a maximum series of WUL’s say in Jamaican, Twelve Mon, will generally be accepted as pure auditory misery for say, any Warm Blooded Mammal. He figures this could be one of the most annoying sounds on this planet and even a most comatose population associate will surely Terminate Sawing Wood immediately!

YOU’RE LATE! insert One more pristine 44.1 kHz sample of squealing tires on dry asphalt to realistically simulate her Inhumane Amplified Modulation… "The boss wants to see you As Soon As Possible! Immeldahude’s her designate and nagging is a favorite diversion. Hold all my calls… and please do not disturb me." Willard routinely yells back at the Paunchy Cacophonous Quadruped as he slams his lab aperture. Inject door closing with pronounced force. Introducing the new MORPHCO 362 Sound Effects To Text interface system Diagram A… working… "BLAMM"

But… But… But… DEEP BREATH EVERYONE… LONG SENTENCE AHEAD: But… But… But… she manages to choke out as Obvious Fleshy Flapping Sound from Anatomically Attached Triple Chins compete for audio resolution with a nearby bubbling water cooler and the shrill SETT 362 working… "DING" of her Employee Issued Microwave indicating the Three and a half minute popcorn cooking process is complete.

Finding it almost impossible not to hear Thin Wall Evading Racket, Willy slightly reopens hatchway perimeter. Courageously squeezing his head through a Six-inch slot below a recently attached privacy chain, he sarcastically concludes… That’s all I see! SETT 362 working… "SLAM!"

A typical Office Paper Camouflaged desk all but begs for his Tired Commuter Feet to relax on top of it. Physics guy heeds antique furniture’s appeal, and chills. He recently received as a gift, a box of Genuine Cuban Cigars. A few weeks back, Willard’s landlord was forced by nature to make an emergency trip to his Politically Troubled Homeland. Seems there were a few unwanted side effects from Mr. Pentagia Ortizzia’s Recent Discount Vasectomy. Seno’r Spermanomora’s pet Chihuahua has been afflicted with Genetically Transferable Motion Sickness since birth. So rather than risk an embarrassing Trans Atlantic Puke Fest, Willard agreed to sit for the cute ‘lil, fuzzy ‘lil, cuddly ‘lil, puppy wuppy.

All went well except for a Near Fatal Turpentine Incident. After mistakenly consuming a quart of Six-year-old liquid toxicant, tiny Chapo had to have his Teensy Weensy Tummy Pumped! Realizing micro dog ingested Poisonous Household Liquid, Willy promptly called 911. Responding within hours, a busy job stressed Emergency Medical Technician miraculously saved little Paint Thinner Pooch from checking into that fluffy doghouse made of chew toys, bones, old underwear and…

By the time Ortizzia returned from his Corrective Spawning Tadpole Surgery, evidence of near Lethal Pet Mishap was, for the most part, gone, save blindness in One eye, and an occasional tongue spasm that threatened to cut off Punkin’ Chapo’s Tiny Air Supply. After a rough coach flight and a Jarring Jerking Jolting cab ride home, old Orty hobbled to the middle of Willy’s Micro One Bedroom Apartment. Enduring a noticeable limp and obvious face wincing pain, he slowly reached down and picked up his sweet Chappy Wappy. Hugging meager mutt, he couldn’t help but notice a slight Gray haziness in CW’s left eye. PO wasn’t PO’d, just slightly concerned. He still exhibited forced happiness that best buddy Chapper had partial vision remaining. WS was kindly presented with a wood container full of Twenty-Four thick, plantation fresh, Brown Cancer Logs.

Back in the office, real-time, Willard gently places a Tasty Imported Stench Stick in his mouth and ignites the end. His cheeks bubble back and forth and a series of loud coughing convulsions ensue. It seems that Brooklyn science guy has just closed his eyes when his hideaway portal flies open. MR. SCRANTON, Oh, Willy knows THE VOICE all too well. He also knows from years of abrasive interaction, today’s Syllabic Emphasized Expression of THE VOICE translates into: NOT GOOD! It’s THE VOICE of TETCO’S second in command, Mr. Hyde, Really Shide… but Common Company Vassals know otherwise!

"DO YOU ALWAYS COME TO WORK TO SLEEP? DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS? TIME TO GET YOURSELF NEW EMPLOYMENT YA’ NO GOOD FOR NOTHING NECKTIE WEARING SLACKER! I EXPECT YOU OUT OF THIS BUILDING AND OFF THE PROPERTY IN ONE HOUR,

AND PUT THAT DAMN CIGAR OUT!"

Will doesn’t appear the least bit phased by this high volume Upper Management Declaration. He nonchalantly with apparent composure accepts Hyde… I mean Shide’s non-negotiable terms. Getting up out of his swiveling, vinyl, caster augmented, Stain Guard Treated Recliner, he calmly escorts Overheating Head Honcho out of his soon to be vacant office. Opening the doorway, Immeldahude falls into his arms. Not only has she been eavesdropping, butt her excess ballast threatens spinal damage. Realizing what she has been doing and not wanting to inflict any more pain on his Non Athletic Vertebrae, he drops her.

Immensly glares at Mr. H… Shide and Calorie Deficient Analyst from her newly acquired floor seating. A neon message flashing: LAWSUIT scrolls across her heavily Mascara Laden Eyes. Science schmience, you might say. Most scientists are part of a Private Internal Order simply labeled Geeks, Four eyed lab coat wearing species, fatuous folks who study mating habits of microscopic germs that have absolutely nothing to do with Purity Of Crude Oil! They are out there, but not Willard P. Scanton. He has invested months of personal brainstorming and at least a quart of Number Crunching Sweat on an amazing project.

After problem solving a few minor kinks, he is finally ready to try it out. Working in his lab he’s managed not only to analyze food data as expected, but hard work, unleashed innovation, and a natural ability to dream, have aided him in creating a Wondrous Feat Of Technology. As tight nylon mesh contrivance covering is removed, a brilliant reflection of Laboratory Chamber Prominence glows on the Sixteen by Six meter Chrome accented stainless steel skin.

Inside a meticulously engineered chassis, phosphoresce controls panels with myriads of Digital Communication Interfaces pulsate in random order… random… order? Light Emitting Diodes and backlit meters illuminate leather upholstered inner walls of this State Of The Art invention. A Small But Accurate Monochrome Computer Screen requests, in a font composed of COURIER intelligence with a slight Ancient Greek Myth forcefulness… The SPAMCS instructs… INSERT DESTINATION IN PORT A.

Because of readily available High-Tech Lab Equipment, Willy has logically concluded building and testing his Dimension Jumping Apparatus at his office presents a better chance of project success. It would demonstrate a greater scale of difficulty to construct the Hybrid Time Tube in his Brooklyn mouse hole of a home.

Going to wherever, whenever you want is a fantasy everyone entertains at one time or another. 362… "KNOCK KNOCK" Reality Check… It’s not possible! But in the case of Willard P. Scranton, oh contraire’! He has successfully sent lab animals back in time, reviewed with spreadsheet precision Secret Reversionary Calculations using Thousands of variables. He is now confident with personal utilization of this Wondrous Chronology Appliance. What’s there to loose? Staying in present period is not a valid resolution. He is now unemployed and quite possibly facing biased litigation. He has also considered for a fraction of a moment, risk of Total Project Failure. But if Worst Case Scenario does happen, who’ll know, who’ll care?

Not much change, I wonder if this possesses any value in the year Eighteen Fifty Eight? He mentally asks himself eyeing his lucky Susan B. Anthony dollar. Pocket excavation continues… I know it is here somewhere… ahh, here it is. Willy holds up a wrinkled travel brochure from Yellowstone National Park. He’d told himself when he originally obtained this nature advertisement that only tourists would take, Someday I’ll return. Leaflet data is carefully inserted into TTT-1’s scanning port. Just like those picky Bill To Change Machines in service worldwide, Analog Visual Converter Circuits immediately reject the shopworn document. Backup plan, always have a back up plan! Willy enters Northwest Wyoming Playground coordinates manually. He types in Single Forefinger Technique on the Ergonomic Styled Keyboard: YEAR Eighteen Fifty Eight.

Another Sbamcees consequently displays Escape Style, 72 pt. BOLD FONT…

PRESS RETURN TO INSTIGATE PROGRAM

In Scaled Down Scientific Terminology, please accept an explanation concerning likelihood of period voyaging created by this remarkable instrument.

• First Exotic Propulsion Elements for Exorbitant Perpetual Acceleration Magnitude are required. Engine characteristics function economically on none other than Common Tap Water! Chemical name for the clear stuff… H20

• Throughout process and procedure, Hydrogen atoms are dynamically disunited from Oxygen atoms at a Sub Atomic Elevation. This basic counteraction produces tremendous Micro Cell Combustion. Residual Breathing Material is transfused into a Linear Controlled Holding Tank, which in turn apportions output producing a consistent Oxygen supply for Duration Instrument’s Passenger.

• Massive Micro Explosive Reaction is contained in a small oval looking chamber constructed of a lengthy list of composites and alloys unified to absorb discharge ramifications. Post Splitting Enclosure Force is routed through reinforced anodized carbon amalgamated Chrome Exhaust Pipes. VIOLA instant OOMPH !

TTT-1 has been fabricated from ground level up by WP, so it is a given that when he crawls in… he is Comfy By Design! Willy keeps assuring himself over and over, there is nothing to loose. This invention is really just an extremely noisy, but warm, fluffy bed! Tomorrow when I wake from a good nights sleep, I’ll be a new man.

Chrono Captain assumes a Textbook Lying Down Position. A restraining cage designed to keep him perfectly still during Time Jump, firmly encases his body. Hypodermic Needle Apparatus pierces his watchband wrist via small robot nurse Lucinda… Proudly named by Willy after his mother’s middle name. Communicating through actual CD stored voice samples of Mrs. Whilimina L. Scranton she maternally speaks, Why hello son, welcome aboard… enjoy your flight. Injection purpose is to physically coagulate his blood just enough avoiding Excessive Brain Pressure. Willy hates needles. Hearing his Procreators Maternal Inflections softens his HNA apprehension.

Immeldahude concludes proper behavioral, congenial, thing to do is offer now unemployed food data guy a consoling cup of coffee while he packs. Right, her helpful? Of course she has already predetermined her response if Mr. Scranton accepts her generosity… YOU HAVE TWO HANDS WIMP! But when she enters lab domicile without knocking, she never knocks… calorically challenged typewriter tyrantess is confronted by a window breaking Gust Of Wind.

Violent unexpected air current blows her Cheap Nylon Wig cleanly off upper bovine cranium area sending her inexpensive XXXL Flower Patterned Blouse skyward, revealing rolls upon rolls of Pure Unadulterated Blubber. Anyone with even a slightest coronary condition walking in on this stomach turning state of Fat Fluxing Exposure was simply doomed. They would experience a Personal Chest Grabbing Situation if you will.

CHAPTER 2

IT WORKED

Entire Time Measurement Conveyance endures exactly Fifty-Nine point Seven minutes. Per Year Regressive Speed quantification calculates out to be Thirty Six Hundred seconds in an hour, and One Hundred Forty years back @ a ratio of Thirty Million Four Hundred and Twelve Thousand Eight Hundred seconds per year. This is what upper class members in Uniformed Lab Coat Wearing social circles refer to in Tongue In Cheek Disposition as, Super Sonic Geek Speed.

Willy slowly opens his eyes. At first anatomy actuation proves difficult… It’s hard for Time Boy to move! Below his left