Experiment # 5. No Disassemble!
After giving PLUR Fairey an extra day to rest, I feel that things between us are now even and it is time to continue with experimentation. Unfortunately, PLUR Fairey is still convinced that he is part cow and I must stray from my previously planned order of experimentation and go ahead with what was originally planned as a surprise experiment.
Telling him that I was able to interpret some of his "moo's" from the day prior, I convinced him that the cow inside of him wanted out and wanted freedom. The only way, I added, was through surgery.
PLUR Fairey told me that he'd gladly undergo the surgery and that letting the cow out would be "Phat, yo." He even mentioned something about Billy Crystal from City Slickers having a cow, and that he could take the cow to parties once we extracted it from his body.
After informing him of the new "No Cow" policy at raves world-wide after Superstar DJ Keokenfold Cox was attacked by a sacred Hindu cow in
The Brain:
Stripped down, strapped down, and unconscious...I begin removing the scalp, and sawing the skull. It's the brain I'm after, if there is one. I want to see exactly what this poor soul has done to himself. I remove the upper half of the skull only to have my hand slightly burned by a cloud of steam. The brain, still sitting in his head, illuminates as an eerie green color; like a trashed Glowstick in a sea of flyers after a party.
Steam cleared, I move on. Normally, a person’s brain is covered in mucus (snot), but for some reason, aside from the steam's moisture, this specimen’s brain is remarkably dry. Also, I see that there is a hole in the top of the frontal lobe... almost alike a whale's breathing hole. Peering down the hole, I see that it leads straight down to the nostrils! Could this have been formed from snorting record amounts of powdered substances? After thoroughly examining a culture from the inside of his nose-frontal lobe passageway, I conclude my hypothesis is correct. This passageway is coated in solidified powdered substances. I've formed some of this substance into a pill-shape and mailed it to the DEA for testing. Taking another look at the inside of his upper half of his skull, I see that even the bone has begun to wear.
As of yet, I have performed no drug tests on PLUR Fairey, but this definitely verifies that this particular Candy Raver is one of the drug-using genre. No decisive studies have been made yet to see which genre of Candy Raver (drug-using, or drug-free) is predominant, but many Ravers claim that bullshit stereo-typed articles, such as these, are what fuel the world's view of the 'Rave Scene' as being a drug-based culture.
Studying samples of various parts of PLUR Fairey 's brain, I find that his dopamine is 4 times as populous as an average human, and his serotonin is PERMANENTLY bonded to the serotonin receptors...even the down-regulated receptors! This lucky fellow has managed to put himself in a constant state of 'ecstasy'.
The brain has a slight menthol smell to it. Tissue cultures reveal that this is from Vicks Inhalers. Normally used for decongestion, PLUR Fairey has managed to dry out all the mucus from his skull and permanently flavor his brain.
I found no cow in his head. I bond the top half of his skull back, and paste his scalp back upon his head.
The face:
All along, I believed that PLUR Fairey had black eyes. Under close scrutiny, though, I see that PLUR Fairey 's eyes are actually blue! The only reason I hadn't noticed before this time is due to the fact that his pupils are permanently dilated. In attempt to return his pupils back to normal size, I insert a needle into his eye and try to drain his eye slightly to lower intraocular pressure. This didn't help much, as it appears as if this is now his pupil's natural state and all I've gotten out of the deal is a glowing syringe; one heck of a Glowstick, if you ask me.
Further examination of his nose shows traditional nasal passage wear from snorting various powders. His, though, is to the extreme that he no longer possesses any hair follicles in his nose, and of course, I can see directly into his brain. None of the glowing brain's light emits from his nose, though, as the sugar coating (until the DEA verifies what the substance really is) blocks all light. I take this time to clear the passageway a bit and remove some of the powder. I'll be forming this into pills and selling it as “MDCrSmackMA” until I find out exactly what it is. No, I'm not a drug dealer, but I do need some funds for further experimentation.
Study of the mouth reveals that his lips, in their relaxed shape, are pursed perfectly for sucking on a pacifier... or also for saying words that start with P, like Peace, Pretty, Paul Oakenfold, or PLUR. His teeth are one third the normal length, apparently from grinding his teeth. In the back of his throat, I see, instead of tonsils, a pair of the small sponges from the inside of a Vicks Inhaler hanging and clamped around a 1 inch (burned out) mouth Glowstick.
The body:
As I examine the trachea, I find more of the sponges from Vicks Inhalers implanted in his breathing passageways. He's starting to get a little pale, so I inject 200cc's of adrenachrome into his heart and that seems to liven him up a bit. I also give him another shot of elephant tranquilizer to keep him unconscious. Moving down, I find that his lungs are semi-crystallized from a high content of fiberglass! This can only be explained by the high amount of Menthol cigarettes smoked by this young lad.
Where his stomach SHOULD be, I find 6 small stomachs. Apparently he really is part cow; hmm. His liver, pancreas, gall bladder, intestines, and kidneys all seem to be normal, except that they are all very sweet smelling. Apparently they've only been digesting sugar for several years. After doing a cell culture of the inner tissue of his stomach, I find no traces of any illegal substances. Apparently our PLUR Fairey hasn't been doing as many drugs as we thought.
I use some Bondo to patch up the broken bones and whatnot, than sew up his chest with some glow-in-the-dark string. He'll love that, I'm sure. I opt not to examine "that" area of his body...but I figure anybody could use a good enema every now and then, so I flip him over and put on a fresh pair of latex gloves.
Spreading those cheeks apart, I find out that PLUR Fairey has a tattoo! No, it isn't a "Do Not Enter" sign, sorry. Funny joke, but nobody actually does it. To the left of his rectum there is the number '9' and to the right of it there is a percentage sign. Not knowing what to think at first, I contact a friend of his, Killy Bimble (OA JD), and ask him the significance of this tattoo. He says something about his rectum is supposed to be a number '0' and that is spells '90%'. I don't know.
Anyway, upon closer examination, I see that the flesh inside of his rectum is VERY irritated. Strange...because it isn't the same as what you'd see with someone you actively participates in anal sex, but more like chemical burn; hmm. I'll have to ask Killy Bimble on this one next time I talk to him.
The tranquilizer is starting to wear off again, and I'm almost out. I'd better save the last few shots for emergencies. I put a post-it note on his head saying "Got Milk?", pour some milk on his nipples, take all my surgical instruments, and leave the cell.
I later inform him that the cow has gone to
Past Experiments:
No Candy-Candy. (No plastic jewelry, ~4 days)
Enjoy the Silence. (No music, 5 days)
I know Kung-Fu. (No sweets, 4 days... shortened to ~20 minutes)
Sweet Revenge. (Chinese Water Torture, 3 days)
No Disassemble! (Dissection, 1 day)
Upcoming experiments:
Subliminal messages.
Jungle music.
Starvation.
Anti-PLUR propoganda.
Radiation and Chemicals.
Noisecore.
History Channel, A&E.