The Principia Sporkious
Or How I Found Eris and What She Did to Me when I found Her
<links me to Emperor Norton>

My whole life, I have been an individual. I never respected authority, spoke my mind, and I never wanted to conform like everyone else. The sun was always shining, and that was enough comfort for me. Then, I began to act in such a way that I was deemed controversial by society. "What is wrong with wearing sporks in my glasses," I asked, but no-one replied. My life was now more radical then ever. Then, one day…

I was lying on the floor, passed out cold. Traces of white powder could be seen around my hands and mouth. My eyes were going through rapid eye movement. The only clues as to what had happened was a one quarter full box of Starbucks © After Coffee Mints ®, and a strong pungent smell of pure minty goodness. Friends suspect that I became bored with doing nothing in class, and so I decided to see how many of those potent mints I could handle before I passed out. I was heard mumbling something about yang eyes. I had symptoms including, but not limited to: Sweaty hands, burning in the back of my throat, impaired judgement, burning mouth, painful breathing, mint addiction, obsessive —compulsive behavior, and I was one with the mint.

"Come towards the light, Gary! It’s your destiny! Be one with us, as an angel!" A tunnel opened up before my eyes, which was long and black, and there was some sort of light at the end of it. So, I went on my merry way. The path was very slippery. My paper sandals, with their complete lack of traction, made progress slow. The upward angle of the tunnel began to increase, and I slid backwards with the grace of a fried chicken sliding down a glass ramp. Then, trying repeatedly, I was not moving forward at all. The light began to be slowly moving away from me. THWACK! My head on the floor, in severe pain, I realized I must have taken a false step. Delirious, I saw several other tunnels leading off to the left and right. Approaching a green, sizeable one, I stepped through, unknowing that I had wandered off the chosen path.

The grass before me was a bright shade green of which could only have been pre-1970, and my head ached like something out of the black lagoon had been munching on it. Apparently, I was not too far off. Upon asking a person near me, who was dressed spectacularly in all the colors of the rainbow, I was told that I was in Berkley, in 1968. My head had received several hard blows from a nightstick when I was standing in a line with my comrades, all of us wearing crazy counter culture clothing, had our hands linked and began to chant the well known song "We’re not against the soldiers, we’re against the war." The whole scene around me was a mess. There were dead bodies everywhere, and even more with their heads cracked open, and bodies covered in bruises. The local police were evidently not too pleased with our protests.

My breath was rank, and upon asking a man in a military uniform for a mint, something terrible happened. With one mint left, the military man was very adamant in his position to retain it. Dazed, and half crazy from my crushed skull, I formed my hand into a fist, and hit with his head. The bullet entered my heart immediately to the left of my left lung, and blood gushed forth. The pain was agonizing. The blood was freely flowing like a drinking faucet from the wound, and my comrades quickly made me a tourniquet for my chest, and my eyes went black again. Chest tourniquets evidently are just as deadly as gun wounds.

I awoke in immense pain. My wounds were many, and I had bruises and broken bones all inside of my broken body. The feeling of utter defeat was upon me, as nobody would open their eyes to the violence of the war, and that of the police department. I needed something to cure my pain. Then, appeared before me, a young lady of perhaps nineteen years, who was dressed in the most fantastic colors and designs. Clearly a free thinker and fellow non-conformist, she gave me some pills. These pills, when swallowed, made all my pain stop, and the world around me assumed the most brilliant colors. Nearby, a mouth walking on two ladders was conversing with an old hammer about the way that sheep prefer to dye their hair white. Blood dripped from the clouds and snow had sprouted from the dirt. My mind, experiencing overload, was not too much use to me. I had lost it. I don’t believe I ever recovered.

The white room was circular in shape. No windows or furniture were to be seen. With me was a hippie with a nasty looking wound on the head, with ragged clothing, he had his eyes upon me in such a way that it invoked a feeling of sympathy for him. Also present was a very attractive female glowing with radiance and apparently overflowing with chaotic beams of colored light. I recognized her immediately, from my years of studying Discordia and mythology/folklore. I knew exactly who she was. She was the essence of chaos, confusion, discord and strife, and she was right before me. My Goddess, Eris Discord hovered before my eyes. Next to her was a man with dirty clothes on, but a crown as well. Dressed in the manner of a nineteenth century entrepreneur, he was, except for the lovely gold crown atop his messy, floppy hair. Upon his chest, a name was embroidered upon his dusty suit, as if I needed to be told who he was. People of a religion usually know the important members of it’s mythology, and here, right before my very eyes, was Eris’ Only Begotten Son, Joshua A. Norton, Emperor of the United States, and Protector of Mexico!

His speech, proper though nonsensical, immediately captured my attention. I observed Mr. Norton conversing with Eris on the subject of his life. Apparently, he was recanting his life story, and, taking note of what he said, I heard every word. He had been a successful businessman in the market of dry goods. He, at some point, decided to gain a major interest in the rice market. When he was right about to accomplish his dreams, a boatload of rice arrived from the orient came in. His business was ruined, whereafter, he vanished for a year’s time. Eris began to speak to me, her voice unintelligible to all but the illuminated, and conversed unto myself that I was related to both of these strange men in times past, and it was time for me to experience my roots. Upon hearing this, Norton, in the most insane manner, wailed that he had yang eyes, and through these objects, he had conversed with myself in his past.

In the town of my arrival in the United States, I observed people going about their daily chores without a clue as to my upcoming wealth of money. A sign on the local tavern proclaimed the year to be 1895. Soon, all rice would belong to me! The people of California then would, without any choice, have to purchase their rice from myself! Then, a salty wind blew over the San Francisco streets. A large cargo ship, of Oriental make, had arrived. I felt very much like a rabbit does when he knows that his children are soon to be eaten by a wild dog; very thirsty. I got a drink of water, and then I realized that my plan had failed.

The ship’s contents were, indeed, what I had feared. I was out of business, as the townspeople had another vendor of fine white long-grain. So frustrated was I, that I waited until nightfall. When the darkest hour of night approached, I began to dispose of the foreign rice. With only my hatchet, and with no visibility, I soon made a mistake in which my damage was brained. "You have yang eyes, Mr. Norton! YANG EYES! Wa ha ha ha ha! Now, go into the mountains, and take a trail which is marked by an old, shriveled bonsai tree. Now, go!" Upon hearing this voice, I knew that no-one had spoken that. I had spoken that, but in a different time, and a different place.

The green grass beneath my feet was wet and springy, while the morning songbirds had just begun to sing. I was tired and hungry, after my strenuous journey, but my brain, currently resembling a scrambled egg, had no business telling me what to do. A trail was up ahead, wide enough for a stagecoach to pass, though narrowly missing a sheer drop of five thousand feet of solid rock. Along came a wagon, and in it, I heard yells towards myself. The dust kicked up by the horses was tremendous and the wagon charged at me. The occupant of the coach, in the most formal manner of speech, informed me that it was ‘my money or my life.’ Having no money left, I, without a speck of fear, stated that he may take all my money. The man approached me, his shiny black gun pointed towards me, and requested all my doubloons. My nimble hands closed on some air, and were positioned in front of the man. The man observed nothing in my hands, and began to realize that I had no money. Then, another coach approached. Gunshots were fired, blood sprayed, mints laughed, and my friend the robber was thrown wailing off the mountain.

Upon my return, everyone in town had got word of those events. My mouth was very dry, and I wanted a drink, but having no money, I was in a spot of bad luck. The next day, I had proclaimed myself Emperor of the United States and Protector of Mexico. The local taverns, humoring me, accepted my royal currency, and my proclamations were published in the local newspapers. The people always respected me and they knew that I was a true individual. Copies of my hand tools, which were made of the finest fingernails, were made available to the public under the name, "Norton’s Utilities." They were a failure. "When I had a broken computer, I used Norton’s Utilities to fix it!" a voice in my head said.

Again, in the white room with it’s three other occupants, all of which were now glowing, I began to feel a divine sense of understanding. My individualistic ideals, counter culture beliefs, and seeming madness have been with me for quite some time, even before I was born. Never again will I think that I was isolated from society because I am different, I thought, as the scene began to fade, and I was again in my present body. I then realized that it was due to Emperor Joshua A. Norton’s erratic, nonsensical behavior that I became the poor confused soul I am today. It makes perfect sense; no one else acts like me, and I don’t care. Both the Emperor and I never conformed to society’s behavioral standards. I am now known as Rev. Gary Parks, Emperor of Canadia and defender of California! And life is great.