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ERISIAN REVELATIONS from the PINEAL GLAND of a certain WHITE MOUSE who may or may not be an imaginary character.

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St. Hugh: What are you thinking?
White Mouse: Something altogether stupid.
St. Hugh: About the state of the world?
White Mouse: Why would I be thinking about that?
St. Hugh: Isn’t that stupid?
White Mouse: To think about the world, or the state of the world?
St. Hugh: You tell me.
White Mouse: Nope. You think for yourself.
St. Hugh: I asked you a simple question.
White Mouse: And I answered it. Didn’t I?

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There was a certain Zen master who liked to beat his students while verbally assaulting them. Thus, like est-training, thousands of students flocked to him to be abused, believing such self-abnegation to be a positive step towards awakening. One particular day while slapping the proverbial daylights out of one of his literal students, the wooden staff he was using shattered into red powder with a resemblance to cayenne pepper. The poor student was unconscious by this point. There was a blinding flash of light and the master fell to the ground while choking on the cayenne fumes. He heard a beautiful women’s voice.
“ Now look. You’re going to have to stop all this I’m-a-master-and-am-holier-than-thou-beating crap. I’m getting tired of all these pleas for help.”
“What?…Who are you?”
“Oh, not this again. I’m Eris. Remember me? Or do I have to run that spiel by you again?”
“Eris? But you’re not real.”
“Than why am I talking with you now? Why did I come to you during that traffic jam last month? Do you think it was just to make sure your car overheated and broke down? No. There was another reason.”
“But I don’t believe in you. I didn’t call on you.”
“Oh dear. Do we have to go through this nonsense again? Do you think I need you to believe in me in order to exist? But I’m not here to give you a lesson in thealogy. I warned you before that I’d have to do something drastic if you didn’t stop the beatings. Some of my followers were dumb enough to try your training for whatever sick reasons. And you and I have already been through the rest. It was funny for a minute but now I’m putting a stop to it.”
The Zen master stood up with a look of vehemence and gazed upon the most beautiful women he ever saw. Instead of an act or a word of reverence, or even questions as to where to find golden apples, he shouted “I don’t have to take any crap from a girl!”
Eris smiled and lightning struck the master. There was a scream as he burned up. The smoke sweetly filled the area with the fragrance of clove cigarettes.
The scream awoke the aforementioned unconscious student who was also, unbeknown to the master, a Discordian pope. He looked up at the radiant face of Eris and smiled.
“Now, Reverend Moonshine, I hope this teaches you a lesson. Never let someone beat the crap out of you, unless that’s what you want. And stay away from nuts who believe themselves to be masters, unless they entertain you. And…the last thing you’ll have to figure out for yourself.”
At that, She vanished. On the ground there was powdered cayenne pepper, for making chili dogs, and a pile of clove cigarettes over a great scorch mark. One was lit. He picked it up and inhaled, basking in the afterglow of surviving a beating and seeing one’s Goddess. He never saw the master again. Nor did he ask questions about it. But a few months later he did start the Survivors of Evangelical Zen Buddhist Ritual Abuse Cabal.

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White Mouse: Did Eris say that?
St. Hugh: Say what?
White Mouse: That.
St. Hugh: Is this a trick question?
White Mouse: What?
St. Hugh: This.
White Mouse: What are we talking about?
St. Hugh: You tell me. You started it.
White Mouse: I asked you first.
St. Hugh: This is the reason I need to drink so much when I’m around you.
White Mouse: Oh there you again with your bipedal domesticated primate nonsense guilt trip shit again. If you’re going to be that way, I’ll see you later.

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From: THE TEQUILA MÍSTICA CABAL
To: THE PURPLE MONKEY CABAL
Date: It tends to change and it varies from time to time.

We are amused that you noticed our little hallucination spreading prank down in Tijuana. And we thank you for the suggestion about how to deal with the cacti threat. Selling the plants to tourists under the impression that such plants will give off mystical vibes was the best plan we heard in days. We will begin implementing it immediately.
While your assumptions about us operating in Mexico were true, we’ll have you know that our headquarters is actually downstairs from yours. We thought that some of you would have noticed all the poncho-wearing freaks that showed up at your last sink party and the fact that we all went back to the same building as you guys when the sun came up after the party. But then again, the tequila cup was over flowing that night.
In closing we will just remind you that we are going to give you the copy of the cabbage prank as soon as we can locate it. We have had a bit of a problem finding things since the Wiccans next door did that fairy calling ritual. See you soon.

p.s.—we are still waiting for that Golden Apple cider recipe you promised us.

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A SQUIRREL MEETS A WHITE MOUSE
In the woods there lived a squirrel who imagined himself to be a hallucination conjured up by some hippie on acid back in the late 1960’s or the early 1970’s. Now this explanation of the origins of his existence did satisfy the squirrel for a long time, until he realized that he couldn’t find the tripping hippie anymore. This set him on a quest and many things did indeed happen to the squirrel on his journey which took him around the world and to a certain city park along a certain lakefront. It was there in that park along that lakefront that the squirrel met a chili-dog eating white mouse.
Squirrel: I’m a hallucination and you’re a white mouse.
White Mouse: No you’re not and yes I am.
Squirrel: Prove it.
White Mouse: Nope.
Squirrel: Why are we here?
White Mouse: Well, I’m eating. The rest is a lot of mental bull-crap that the bipedals get off on.
Squirrel: If I’m not a hallucination, what am I?
White Mouse: First off, you’re a squirrel. I know you’re not a hallucination because I don’t usually hallucinate and if I did, believe me, it wouldn’t be squirrels I’d see.
Squirrel: So why am I here?
White Mouse: Because it’s a nice day in the park? You want a chili-dog? You wandered around on some quest to find you didn’t have to? You want me to illuminate you? Take your pick.
Squirrel: All of the above.
And with that the squirrel started to learn many things from the White Mouse over the next few days. It was rumored to have been the beginnings of the Hallucinatory Squirrel Cabal. The White Mouse to this day claims to know nothing about any squirrels.

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