A barbershop that uses special scissors to produce a haircut that changes the memories a person has when they look at you — these scissors, made by an artisan in a basement in the LES, blades fused with an alloy created by feeding radioactive subway rats the green juice drink and collecting their sweat when they run in a specially designed hamster wheel contraption.
THIS IS PULP CEREAL
Thanks for showing up. Now, I have to warn you, this isn’t just a bunch of stories. Everything has a place and a purpose. If you look just so, you’ll see it. There are clues everywhere, if we only take the time to let the truth reveal itself.
Here you may read things, or look at things, or watch things, and you may wonder if what you’re seeing is actual. And it is. At least to me. This is the world I see, or at least imagine I’m seeing — honestly, some days I cannot tell. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, or confused, or you want to share something you’ve seen, shoot me a message.
Kung-Fu Couriers — Delivering ass-whoopings used on-demand. The world of henching has changed. It used to be a tight-knit, union-style fraternity racket. The things you had to do to get in, you can’t even imagine. And there were limited spots per city. You’d have to apply for a token, pass tests, prove your ability to hench.
Then you’d have to buy in — $10K plus $5K a year. For life. For the ability to hench in the city without getting fined or jail time. If you had your token, you’d made it. You were in. And we had the whole government in our pocket — job security. Life was good. Great even. Until one day some rich kid has a thought that him and his reject rich kid friends want to be able to call up a henchman whenever they want, just hit a button to cover the fact they’d been running their silver spoon-fed mouths too much. Kung-Fu Couriers was born.
At first, none of us paid much attention. We knew we had the commission on our side. Leadership told us to ignore it. But something seemed off. Finally, one night, we get called in to a bar to fill out a massive brawl, and there they are, a few KFCs, taking punches and kicks, swinging and missing at our clients! Needless to say, the lines were blurred that night. The brawl spilled out into the parking lot, the Henchmen Legion vs. the KFCs, clients be damned.
Now, most of these KFC dudes were pretty raw, they barely knew what they were doing — everyone knows what punching and kicking is, but henching is a skill. At some point during our beat down of these clowns, they tapped out, content to admit defeat and lick their wounds. But I had to know more. What’s going on with KFC?
A radio guy taps into brain waves and can listen to thoughts at a certain frequency, those thoughts from a woman that makes rugs for famous people's Instagram pet celebrity. But like taxicab confessional, he hear’s these "how they really feel" thoughts during romantic moments.
Lipstick that changes flavors you don’t like into ones you do.
Those leather totes, and the women that carry them — a ring of ultra trained couriers, transporting highly classified materials in this intricate web of high-priced, fashionable bag accessories — walking down city streets, riding subways and buses, intersecting in lobbies and offices, meeting in cabs.
It’s an underground movement, a revolution to restore the only un-controlled form of media, a dead medium — print. Rogue digital media elites surfaced information of a bygone time when paper and ink ruled and the immediate scanning, scraping, and censorship of the governing body wasn’t as easily executed.
So they broke free, to reassemble a printing press, using trendy, classy ladies to maneuver past the surveillance of the higher-ups when delivering parts to the secret build site.