Issue 18
September 1, 2001


Running with Scissors
Since 19

An e-journal documenting modern culture as it manifests on or near that hotspot on the surrealistic powergrid known as Spokane, WA and/or the known or unknown universe

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Stik Mann's
Past Writings

Issues Past

La Busca Homepage
Trip to Mexico

Prototype Project

Judy Roger's
Sarcastic Pantyraid 2000


The Martyrdom of

#1 - #2 - #3 - #4

My meeting with
#1 - #2

Dewd-ling --
Coversations with Dewd





Speak to me

Gooder Paper

A special report from Stik Mann's OtherSpokane

_ _ _ _ _ _ __ __ _ __ _ ___ _ _ _ _ _ _

_ _ _Stik Mann _ _ _ __Phopaw _ _ _ _ _ __dewD _ _ _ _ _ _ _Arp Xigar

On the evening of August 4, 2001, the above familiar characters from past issues of Stik Mann's OtherSpokane, along with Norm, the sad, hemophiliac prince (not pictured because I screwed up his photo), purposely ventured into the Dark Wood to tiptoe, dance and ultimately stagger along the boundaries of the Wilderness.

We all embarked upon this expedition of our own free will -- for the purpose of discovery for discovery's sake -- with much faith in the existence of undiscovered treasures there, and some healthy fear of the dangers involved in The Pursuit.

Below, I document, for you my faithful readers, some of our findings:

We meet at Heidi's Tavern in Metaline Falls. We eat and drink and achieve a state of Merriment. Later, outside, Phopaw agrees with me that the town is very nice and the region beautiful, then asks me how I can believe in a God who allows His children to suffer. Arp and dewD eventually put things into perspective.
Go to
It's a Nice Little Town

We investigate the whereabouts of resident Roger of the North, but he is nowhere to be found. So, after a quick check of supplies, we depart this fair village and aim the envoy north, following Sullivan Creek upstream. Soon we locate a wonderful site: an overhang of tall trees, a primitive fireplace, a small clearing at the bank of the creek that reveals the northern sky. We set up camp. Arp has a big tent.

We gather around the fireplace -- as if it holds flames, which it does not -- and pass the Peace Pipe. I point out the fact that Arp has a very big tent and everyone seems to agree. "It is indeed a very large tent," says Norm.

Phopaw's Dream
Phopaw tells me his latest Impact Dream. I offer an interpretation.

Later, dewD tries to take Phopaw's photo without a camera. He does not succeed but does cause tiny cherries to appear in his mind's eye and his mouth while the atmosphere in a distant field momentarily flares up. Still, the experiment is considered a success by all.
See Photo

Spokane Is...
Upon the glories of Spokane, dewD and I do rhapsodize. As we do, a small collection of tiny birds chirp loudly all around us, as if they are scolding us.

Phopaw asks if I will baptize him. I decline.

Later, God preforms the task Himself when He reaches down from His Heavenly Throne and pushes Phopaw into the creek while he (Phopaw) is washing his face.

I point this out to Phopaw but he responds with a strong defense for the continuance of Reason, suggesting that perhaps he merely "slipped on a slick rock."

I consider his explaination yet remain unconvinced.

Later, Phopaw and I search for things off in the distance that aren't there.
See Photo

I ask Arp if he read my story about my encounter in Mexico with the Zapatista's in the Spokesman-Review. He said he hadn't but would catch it when it somehow shamelessly finds its way into the next issue of OtherSpokane.

I am eating a bag of chips when I feel a rustling within the bag. I peek inside as a beautiful, impish spirit girl shoots out and kisses me on the lips.
See photo

The dewD/Arp Xigar Variety Hour
dewD and Arp are talking.
But they are far enough away that I can not hear them unless I concentrate, which I chose not to do. Still, my brain interprets their cricket-like chirping sounds and I find it to be an enlightening experience. Click the link above to see if it works for you.


A broken tree momentarily transforms into a totem pole. It fades, but reappears throughout the evening with greater frequency and intensity.
See Photo

I ask Phopaw what he thought about my comments regarding the painting, "The Alchemist's Experiment takes Fire," by Heindrick Heerschop, in Issue 17 of OtherSpokane.

He responds, "At first I thought your analysis was crap, but then I re-read it in Sister Wendy's voice and found it quite insightful."

Suddenly darkness is upon us. We light the fire and all stand around in silence as it grows and reflects in our eyes. An undeterminable amount of time passes...

Suddenly I realize that we are all sitting down, though I can not recall anyone actually making the transition from upper to lower positions. I am about to mention this to the others when Arp clears his throat...

The Ballad of Arp
ArpXigar gives a very special fireside recital of his modern Surrealist classic. He receives a rousing ovation and we are animated once again. And again, we pass the Pipe of Peace.

Many of us also partake in a few doses of Arp's snakebite medicine. While no snakes have been spotted, we elect to retain a precautionary spirit.

Arp in the middle of a
mood change.
And, having changed --
Mood 1 and Mood 2


We collectively reason that it would be beneficial to have a code word or code phrase to shout out in case a bear happens to wander into camp. After much debate we finally agree on "Oh, shit! Bear!"


I'm Not Gay (look at me look at her butt now)
We talk about the Heavy Metal Eighties and the bands that screamed anthems to their sexual potency and prowess. We decide that these rants were their way of shouting, "We're not gay!" A song comes to me. It festers in my mind for many days until I finally write it down. It's pretty stupid. (But, according to OtherSpokane copy editor, seer, and person down the hallway, Madame WickLip, it's all part of a greater destiny.)

Norm finds a stick that looks like a snake. We all re-dose with Arp's medicine.

dewD Tale
dewD takes the stage. What follows I have rendered here in comic strip form.

We stand at the edge of the creek bank and gaze at the star-filled sky. Aurora Borealis makes a brief appearance in the form of a thin, green flame. As it fades, so fades our troop. Only Phopaw and I remain.

"Stik," says Phopaw. "If God told you -- and you knew for sure it was God -- if God told you to kill me, would you do it?"

There is silence, except for the sound of the creek and the distant crackle of the campfire. The green flame in the sky finally disappears. "Yes," I finally answer. "But with the hope that you, being my friend, would understand my dilemma."

Suddenly our faces strangely illuminate, as the moon peeks over the distant mountain. A patch of cool air passes by us, as if riding upon the current of the stream.

"I wouldn't do it," says Phopaw.

I sleep next to the fire. I dream that I sleep well and wake very early and
hike up the nearby hill.


I sit up and open my eyes and see Phopaw and Norm standing above me. "Where did you go? Where did you go?"

"Go?" I ask. "You mean...up on the hill?"

"I'm asking you," says Phopaw.

dewD emerges from his tent. Bear growl-like snoring comes from the very big tent of ArpXigar. Phopaw and Norm pack up their gear. I realize that I am standing though I cannot recall the transition from the lower position to the upper.

We all shake hands and agree that next time we will go even deeper into The Wood. Phopaw and Norm depart. dewD and I walk over to the very big tent of ArpXigar.

"Oh, shit," I whisper. "Bear."

"Did their leader probe you too?" says dewD. "Man, I'm sore."

There is a rustling in the big tent, "Huh? Wha--"

"Arp," I say. "Did you see what happened to Norm and Phopaw? You know where they are?"

"They're gone, man!" says dewD, a slight degree of desperation in his voice. "What's goin' on?"

"What's happening?" says Arp, popping up from his slumber like a jack-in-the-box.

"All their stuff is here. But they're not." says dewD. "We've looked everywhere."

"And something else," I say. I turn away and stare down at the ground, then, with a worried face, I look quickly back to dewD.

"Their sleeping bags," says dewD. "They've been, like. . . scorched."


"Yeah," I say. "And they're filled with some kind of sand-like stuff."

"Just say it!" dewD shouts at me with wide-eyes. "It's ashes, man," he sobs to Arp. "All that's left of our buddies is ashes, man!"

"Are we going home now?" says Arp.

"Yes," I say. And eventually, we do.


Suggestion: A good way to e-ease back to reality --
Go to
Stik Mann's WebFinds for Issue 18

Next Issue: All Hallow's Eve 2001

Please read the OtherSpokane DISCLAIMER

Stik Mann's Other Spokane and all content within
Copyright 2001, Steven J. St.George
(unless otherwise noted or as obvious as bad meat).