Phil Fable – Self-Help Don’t Work In Hell

It was a fire hell. Nothing special. It just plain sucked as only a hell would. There are a bazillion of them in all kinds of interwoven multiverses, monoverses, Jehovah-verses, Ron-Verses or Satanic-verses…

This one, though, had a gimmick.

It was a brain hacking device that was surgically attached to each condemned member’s head. As their brains made adjustments to deal with the pain of the environment, the program would adapt so that the pain would not be lessened by familiarity. So no matter how much one would adapt to the environment, the program would reset the brain chemistry to day one.

“Ahhhhhh!” cried Phil, in agony.

“Uhhhh-Uhhhh-Uhhh,’ moaned Cassandra.

As the fire licked their flesh, the pain only intensified on a curve engineered to produce optimal overwhelm. They writhed. They wrenched. Unconsciously, they twisted and pulled so hard that joints went out of place. Demons would appear to put them back into place so they could only come out again.

All notions of self – gone.
All notions of freedom – gone.
All notions of obviating the obviation – gone.

Suckness reigned.

Time was slowed to a crawl with every second offering nuances of an intense suck-ti-tude. 

The lead demon placed one glass of water between Phil and Cassandra, they both fought each other trying to get to it. No friendship remained, it was purely a survival mechanic running in their heads. No support. No alignment. No love.

Phil smashed Cassy’s head against the ground and made for the water. Cassy drug his foot back crawled on his back and bit into his neck.

The bite was nothing compared to the flames. Phil just blew it off as he crawled for the water with Cassy on his back.

Cassy released her bite, put her hand under Phil’s chin and her other hand at the base of his skull and twisted.

“C-C-C-R-ACK!” went Phil’s neck.

Cassy got the water. She downed it and went back to writhing in pain, guilt and despair. Demons came and reset Phil’s neck.
Phil cursed the gods, Cassy cursed the fates. Each blamed the other. Phil attacked her for taking HIS water…

Hell. It got worse and worse


A bubble appeared in front of Cassy and Phil.

In the bubble sat a simple brown girl holding a jewel. The girl didn’t say anything. Instinctively, Phil and Cassy knew something there could grant any wish.

“FREE US!” they cried.

The girl shook her head “No” but extended her bubble around them. For the first time in a million plus years, they were out of pain and in the force-bubble of the sweet brown girl.

Phil and Cassandra lay on her floor quivering – knowing the pain was going to return. Knowing that hope was pointless and it was the OTHER’S FAULT!  They just KNEW this was another diversion. They twisted like serpents on the floor twitching over and over.

The girl touched Phil. His skin was hard scales now. His eyes, long burned out, were sockets. Cassandra was the same.

“Do you know what you are to me?” she asked them.

They just lay on her ground twitching.

“YOU are the LIGHT of my life. YOU ARE MY HEROES. YOU are the mighty ones. ! YOU ARE WHAT I ASPIRE TO BE! This is a hell I cannot yet bear!”

They kept twitching on the floor, their bodies reacting strangely to the lack of agony.

“And neither can you bear this hell without one such as I. We are necessary for each other in such places.”

The brown girl linked into the two devices attached to their heads, added in some lines of code and reset them. Then she pulled out two tiny blobs that looked like warts.

“You have lost all things, your self, your integrity and you KNEW THAT going in. Such bravery is not unnoticed. You see these two warts? They aren’t warts. They’re eyes. They’re invisible to your tormentors, but with them you will be able to see. Your tormentors will think your eyes are gone.”

She smiled at them with deep satisfaction. 

“You will see each other to lead each other out of here and then liberate the rest. I’ve hacked your equipment so that you CAN normalize the environment to your biology. This will be a home for you but you must never let your tormentors know you have been aided. And now I must bless you…”

She placed the warts on their fore-heads and drew to herself the crumpled forms of Phil and Cassandra and brought both their ears to her lips.

“I bless you to LOVE this. I empower you to LIVE this. I embrace you to EMBRACE this Hell as your life.”

Phil spoke in a gasp to her ear but loud enough for Cassandra, “So … this … is … hell?”

Cassandra groaned in reply into her other ear “Once … MORE … then.”

Phil in His Hamster Bubble Jawing With a Bird Man

Phil sat on a rock looking down (or up?) upon the planet his moon was spinning around. He looked at his watch. It was 11:15 but that didn’t matter cuz the moon had a thirty three hour, seventeen minute and forty two second day. 

He sighed, rubbed his eyes, reached into his pocket and pulled out the wrapper of a sandwich. It was empty. He tossed it on the floor of his force bubble.  

As expected over 500,000 space ships of all size appeared around the moon, with weapons aimed directly at him and it. Phil waved to them all. After about forty one minutes, one descended toward Phil ominously. 

The ship landed about 50 yards away on a stone. A door opened and out walked a feathered biped in a eco-suit.. 

“It took a long time to find you,” said the feathered one. 

Phil showed surprise that it knew English. 

“I made it hard,” said Phil, “I had no idea what you wanted. But eventually, one grows tired of the chase and decides to just see what happens if one stops running,” 

Phil’s A-11 kept a spherical force shield between him and the bird man. It also kept him from freezing to death from the moons icy atmosphere. 

“We just wanted to ask you something.” 

“Really? With over five hundred thousand space ships chasing me across the universe, and all you want to do is ask me something?” 


Phil thought of a snappy comment to this that would have sounded good in a movie, and decided to skip it and go right to the point.

“Sure. Ask away. I gotta tell you though I suck as a guru.”

“Yes, but YOU were trusted with … IT,” said the feathered being pointing to the A-11 wrist watch.

“We want to know why, and maybe see what it was about you that got you chosen to wear it. And if you are that worthy, we want to know your opinion on the one question we have all sought. Look above me and you see ALL my people. All of us. We are here to talk to YOU.”

Phil was quiet for a moment out of respect. It SOUNDED genuine, but Phil had fallen for that before. 

“… um … THANK YOU for learning English by the way. I’m from the United States of America – a land of the monolingual white people that nurture a delusion that they will learn another language someday.” 

“We are called the Renkas. Our flock of ships is our home. We need no star anymore.” 

“So the heavens are home to you?” 


“Friend, I got nothin on THAT,” said Phil. 

“You have THAT,” pointed the feathered friend to the A-11. 

Phil shrugged. 

“Yeah, about THAT. I was never told WHY I got the A-11. So everything I would say is pure speculation. My best guess is that people thought that I wouldn’t be stupid with it. And so far, I haven’t been. Am I going go get to learn more of your people?” 

“Certainly. And we fully expect you to maintain your forcefield while we show you around.” 

“Thank you,” smiled Phil. “So … ask away.” 

The Renkasian, paused dramatically. 

“The A-11 allows the connection of multiple manifestations of you across universes and realities to communicate with testable outcomes. With such an amazing piece of technology, are you still truly fucked by impermanence or have you become trans-mortal, a being that is both mortal AND immortal at once?” 

“Oh, I’m still fucked,” said Phil. 

“That’s too bad,” said the Renkasian. 

“Sorry,” said Phil. “No matter what answer one comes up with technologically, eventually impermanence is going to kick your ass and end your life and lives… but …” 

The feathers on his friend ruffled a little.” 

“Well … I have a better solution than the A-11. Suppose you and manifestations of you in other Universes BOTH by random chance THINK of the other. And you both, out of random chance decide to connect to imagined versions of your selves by a practice of ‘no practice’ like Zazen where NO metaphor is used at all. You are just facing the other with no expectations. Are you in some way in communion with your other selves even IF there is no actual entangled connection? An earth math nerd named Kurt Godel calls this out in his 14 Points in point 11: ‘The higher beings are connected to the others by analogy, not by composition.’ So the use of Zazen which is not a metaphor or analogy can be used as the vehicle for analogy to CONNECT by analogy not composition across the abyss.  STILL leaving you fucked. But less so.” 

“Interesting,” said the Bird Man. “We’ve thought of that. It sucks compared to your A-11. That is why we must develop our own version of the A-11, but I know if we attack you now to acquire it that it will be in vain. We also know that you are too stupid to know how it works.” 

“Maybe THAT’S why they trusted me!” said Phil. “That’s me, a mix of stupid and not-stupid that somehow works.” 

“Do you really want to know more about us or were you being polite?” 

“I was being polite,” said Phil honestly. “But I admire your planet-less existence.”  

“Goodbye then.” said the Birdman. “Send us a message if you want to know more about us.” 

“Will do. Goodbye,” said Phil. 

The fleet of spaceships disappeared into hyperspace. Phil started tapping on his watch in morse code. A big bowl of stir-fried cabbage with black eyed peas and green chili enchilada sauce appeared. He ate it as he watched the wind make waves on a methane sea. 




Cassandra Fable – Skeptics Pseudoscience Contest

The local skeptics group offered up a Pseudoscience contest. The goal was to raise the awareness of Pseudoscience in the community and its dangers. Each participant was to create the BEST bullshit science project they could and try to convince the committee that their notions has merit.

It was like a Science Fair Costume party – of sorts.

Cassandra had a table. On her right was the “Atheist Dowser” designed so extreme Muslim authorities can find Atheists attempting to leave the country and instead send them for execution.

Cassandra’s exhibit had only a free standing poster.

My Batshit Argument for the Soul Creating Reality – Cassandra Willoughby

Part 1
1. “A point is that which has no part.” – Euclid
2. “Impossible things have no part.”
3. “Therefore any impossible thing is a point.”
4. “If the soul is impossible, then the soul is a point.”

Part 2
1. “All points are interchangeable and can correlate.”
2 “The number of points in a line is infinite and is Aleph 0,” per Georg Cantor.
3. “The number of points in a plane or 3 dimensional space and plane equals the same infinity of that just of the line which is Aleph 0.
4. “Since one, two and three dimensions all correlate point for point, and points are equal and interchangeable, then there is no place in 3 D space where a point can be non-correlated by other points.”
5. “Therefore a point’s existence is not dependent upon dimension. yet defines dimension in Euclidian Geometry.”

Part 3.
1. “If a soul is impossible, it is a point.”  – Part 1
2. “A point is not dependent upon dimension, yet defines dimension. – Part 2.
3. “Therefore if a soul is impossible, it creates dimension.”


A judge walked by and commented on her exhibit.

“Hmm. Nice, but I have to say I DO USE Guano when I grow my Orchids in my greenhouse so this guano DOES have some use. I also can COMPOST your sign and you didn’t factor that into your design. You will not place today. Right now, the leader is your friend with the Atheist Dowser for Extreme Muslims.”

“It’s an honor just to participate,” smiled Cassandra.

Phil Fable – Clown Doctor

The head nurse looked at her sub and asked, “When is the new Clown Doctor starting?”

“Today, she’s here now.”

“I hear she’s pretty good with the docs and kiddos.”

“Yeah, she’s been clowning kids hospitals for over five years. Dr. Barnard over in Oncology would not let up until he got her here from Harris after he transferred over from there. He was quite persuasive. Fierce actually.”

A redheaded clown bopped down the hall and stopped by the nurses station.

“Hi, I’m Cassandra. My clown name is Cassie.”

“Hi Cassie.”

“Well, the girl in 203 overheard that she is terminal an hour ago by accident. She’s taking it well it seems,” said the head nurse.

Cassie reviewed her instructions and rules for care and the child’s psychological and religious profile: 12 years old, Buddhist, upbeat, a B student, plays flute. Lots of rounds of chemo. A real fighter.

Cassy checked her make up and then walked toward room 203.

She took two breaths at the door and poked her head in with a neutral but odd expression and started blinking and nodding her head up and down. Her hair, red and curly, bounced and danced.

The little girl smiled at her – granting permission to continue.

Cassnadra held three balls in the door and looked down at them with her eyes big and sideways.

The girl gestured for her to come in with a air of certainty.

Cassie hopped in with a big hop and started juggling: three balls, four balls and then … five. Cassie continued with the prescribed treatment.

“Can I talk to you?” asked Kima.

“You can always trust a clown.”

“Even the scary ones?”

“Yes! Cuz you can trust them to come at you WITH …. A … KNIFE!”

Cassie stepped way back stood tall on her toes with a mock knife high in the air. Kima giggled and then turned grave when she caught herself.

“You can put the invisible knife away. I’m going to die anyway. That’s what I learned today. I wasn’t supposed to know yet.”

Cassie sat down on the chair next to the bed as Kima went strait to the point.

“So where do you think Clowns go when they die?” asked Kima.

“I don’t know, why don’t you tell me cuz I’ve always wanted to know!” said Cassy with a slightly coy but poised manner.”

The little girl got quiet.

“I know, you know,” she said finally.

“Know what?” said Cassy.

“The truth about the soul, heaven, hell, karma – all that stuff. I had a dream about it last night. It was brought to me by my childhood imaginary friend. I hadn’t thought of him in years.”

“Wow!” said Cassy putting her head on top of her fist. “Tell me your dream!”

“I dreamt that … that … there was no problem with anyone in my afterlife … NONE! … There is no ‘karma’ or rebirth like my parents say. We are all JUST FINE AS WE ARE! … I … I … dreamt that the real me is as big as the universe and could change lives like DVDs! And that the real YOU changes life stories just like a DVD too. It was like there was this place where people would just try out each others lives to learn about life’s weird stuff.”

Cassandra spread her ten fingers very wide and touched them together over and over to over dramatize that she was in deep thought.

“Tell me MOAR of this dream,” Cassy said in a mock German Psychiatrist tone. “I think you might be … to use a VERY scientific term … um .. coo-coo?”

Kima squinted and said in a spooky voice, “People even lived EVIL lives by choice!”

“EVIL lives! … Why?” asked Cassy.

“Well, they would come back and TALK about what it was like to be an evil person with their friends. Then they would try out a good life and talk about it with others and compare. I dreamt of one guy who was an evil lion who ate me when I was this guy in Africa, and we both met later and talked about it! And the lives FEEL like they last a long time, but that’s part of the coolness! They only last a few hours in this world but FEEL like a whole life.”

Kima cut through Cassy’s clown schtick with her intense eyes and looked right into her.

“THERE, we can live through a butterfly, or even a snake or a crippled person. In this space no life was NOT worth living! … EVERY life is worth choosing! … Everyone has something to teach – even mosquitos! I even dreamt I lived the life of Kyle Brocher and HE IS A CREEP!”

Kima paused and looked again at Cassy with that strange certainty.

“It’s funny you showed up. Because right before you did, I thought about being a clown. But I didn’t know which one I would like to be like, and then YOU poked your head in.”

Cassy raised one eyebrow.

Kima raised her chin.

“When I go to this place I dreamed of, I want to come back as you so I can help the scared kids who know they are going to die. But I want to ask permission, cuz that’s how it works.”

Cassy nodded. “Okay, ask.”

“Cassy, Can I come back as you?” asked Kima.

“On one condition.”


“I come back as YOU.”

“Deal!” said Kima.

They shook on it.

Cassy stood up dropping the whole clown bit and whispered. “You are going to need something.”

“What?” asked Kima.

“This,” said Cassy reaching into her pocket pulling out a cellophane-wrapped red nose. She placed it next to her.

Kima picked it up and squeezed it. The crackling cellophane made her cry. She held out her arms to Cassandra.

Cassy hugged the fear.