The Book of Not: The Book of the Blue Plymouth: Genesis & Lineage

In the beginning, there was nothing. I mean NOTHING - not even a filet mignon with bernaise sauce on the side. So time passed some more. But even after a long while there was still nothing. And eventually there was a little bit, but not one noticed it because it was too insignificant for anyone to care. And for long, long time after that there was still very, very little.

But eventually there was something and it is not anyone's fault. It just happened! Perhaps if everyone had been paying attention, they would have noticed all of the little insignificant thingies working together to make something of themselves. But the universe is one big salad bar. So when something turned on the all the lights, everyone was blinded for a minute or two.

What happened next is kind of confusing. You see, once the lights had been turned on, everyone got a good look at each other and decided that they really didn't like each other that much. In the dark, one could just pretend to not be there when someone asked you a question. Now when someone wanted your attention, they'd look you square in the eyes like Clint Eastwood. It wasn't a comfortable feeling knowing that you could be eating lead from a six-shooter in a matter of seconds (metaphorically speaking). So to get away from each other, they all picked up there stuff and high-tailed it to parts unknown. They didn't even know where they were going - all they cared was that they were getting away from all the other weirdoes.

The place was empty. Except for one. Alone sat a Malkavian named Mike. He had beendancing the cha-cha when everyone decided to leave and hadn't noticed that they had all left him behind. "Hey everybody!" he said innocently, "Where'd you all go?" But no one answered him. No one. This made Mike feel very sad and very lonely. As he plopped himself down on the empty floor, he began to sob. And then he began to bawl. And then he began to scream, just so that could remind himself that he was still there. And then he amused himself with the bugs on ground...for they were fun to fry with a magnifying lens.

And there he stayed for eons, holding dominion over the insect world, just getting more lonely day by day, which wasn't good because he was just a young'un when everyone abandoned him. He had no one to look up to. No heroes. No mommy and daddy. No prime-time TV. Without such influences in his life, Mike grew up strange. His social skills never developed. He became bitter and vengeful from all of his years in isolation. He never washed. He wasn't fun to talk to 'cause he would swear every 5 words and talk really loudly, just to get your attention. If he had a steakhouse to go to, he would probably have been kicked out because of how obnoxious he would be to the waiters and waitresses. And leave no tip, to boot. "To hell with 'em all," he would say as he thrashed-gnashed his fangs around hissingly, "I don't need any of you! You didn't like me. You NEVER liked me!"

Mikey had grown up to be an asshole. Not only that, but a Malkavian asshole. Since he had no one to make fun of, he was very bored. He always felt like there was something that he wanted to do. He couldn't explain it. He tried pretending he was an Cherokee Indian, but that didn't stop the problem. He tried taking cold showers but they didn't help either. He just had to learn to live with it. And so he tried and managed to bury most of his inner feelings until he was a mean and spiteful vampire.

But he didn't care - because if he was ever given the chance, he would show them all just how he felt. "One day," he muttered angrily, " I'm gonna make them all eat casaba melons with cottage cheese. Stick that in your mesopotamia!"

And so it came to pass: society developed - which is rather strange and unusual in itself because it just happened. No one prompted it or grabbed a hunk of clay off of the art shelf and set it spinning. For a while, Mundania just kinda sat there and did nothing, but eventually someone called it a party.

Pretty soon, lotsa folks were there and got really plastered on some kind of punch. Then the fun started happening and it all started getting really wild. They messed with the thermostats, the electrical outlets, the faucets. Nothing was spared. Pretty soon someone got wrecked enough that they couldn't stand up anymore. So they sat down. Although it felt better to sit down, there wasn't much to do. So they invented radio. They got sick of that so they invented radar. Then they got sick of that so they invented television. So there they were, drunk as bar sponges and sitting on their asses watching TV. They sat that way for a while. Some never wanted to get up. Some never did.

And then Captain Kangaroo beget Sesame Street, Sesame Street beget The Electric Company, The Electric Company beget The New Zoo Revue, The New Zoo Revue died. Henson beget the Muppets, The Muppets beget themselves. And then cartoons came and ruined it all for everyone. Except for Disney - he knew what he was doing (he worked for the FBI). After too many years of stupid programming, they all fell asleep. And since then, every children's TV show has been faked. The quality dipped way down....outta sight and way below the bridge over troubled water.

"If I'm gonna find the Blue Plymouth," he speculated, "I'm gonna need help. And a crowbar." Just then, he heard someone singing. It caught him off guard, you see, because he had never really spoke to anyone else. So when he saw the six-foot-five girl with pink hair skipping towards him he was scared. He didn't know what to say. It was a tall biker-chick with long eyelashes and a purple fez and she was singing! Well, more moshing really. And, oh, what a fez it was! It was all purply-satiny and had gold-trimming-lacey-stuff and on top sat this huge plume that was carved out of ivory. It was a sight indeed, although it was a bit heavy and tilted slightly to the girl's right when she walked and needed to constantly be righted in order to remain on the head. But a gorgeous accessory nonetheless. And the girl, she was a sight to behold as well, adorned in a Hell's Angels leather jacket and fishnet stockings. Quite attractive - much more so than the ants whom he named Elizabeth and Frank.

As she came closer, Mikey was straining to think of things to say. "How do you do?...Haven't met you before, have I?...Hello - nice fez." No, no, no....it was all too stupid sounding. How would he convince her to help him out? He had to think of something quickly, before she was gone.

As she skipped right by Mikey, Mikey wanted to casually walk out and charm the fez off her (like I said, it is a great fez). Instead, he was so flustered that he instinctively (remember, Mikey is an asshole) grabbed big heavy brick and thwacked her a good one on top of her skull. As she fell to the ground, she sighed, "ouch! you prick! I'm gonna tell my d...." And she passed out cold. And her plume broke into 13 sharp pieces. Which is a shame, because it really was a great fez.

"Well, that worked."

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