X-Day Drill, unofficial report by Rev. Steve

From: Zaphod Beeblebrox <steveg@dmv.com>

Date: Mon, 07 Jul 1997


It is my pleasure to report that I, for one, had a most amazing time.

I arrived Thursday accompanied by my attorney. I expected to be one of
the first arrivals but instead found that we were already in the company
of a good many Sub-G immortals. Ivan Stang, Jesus Christ, Rev. Legume
and a host of other well-known entities. Satisfied that we were off to
a good start my attorney and I found a suitable location to pitch my
tent and went about the mundane business of establishing some creature

It was during this that I found a fairly large patch of LBM (little
brown mushrooms) growing right next to where we set up the tent. Having
left my book for identifying wild mushrooms back in Delaware I did my
best to determine that they were at least not poisonous. Just to be
safe, I only ate one.

It was about an hour later that I realized we had made an error in
choosing our campsite when I noticed it was crawling with wood sprites
that kept stealing crackers from my sack of provisions. I really wish
that some Pagans weren't so careless and that they would remember to
banish these fucking things after they called them up. Realizing that I
had to do something, I decided to stand my ground. I gathered up the
fine tasting wild mushrooms I had found, splashed some lighter fluid on
the ground and set the dried grass on fire. You've never heard a sprite
scream like these little bastards did. For some reason, my memory gets
a little hazy after this point. Perhaps vapors from burning sprites has
some psychoactive properties.

Friday was a great day. Rain, high of 55, soaked to my ass in the only
pair of long pants I brought. I decided to do some creative camp
cooking using the wild mushrooms I found the day before. I mixed some
wine, vinegar and sugar, took some greens and some tomatoes and tossed
them in a large pot. Noting that I hadn't experienced any ill effects
from the first one I ate, I chopped up a fairly good handfull of
mushrooms and added them to my salad. Fuck if ten minutes after sitting
down to eat this the sprites were back, good as new, acting like I was
there best buddy and begging food. Remembering that the day before I
seemed to have gotten a buzz from burning them, I snatched one up and
stuffed it in my frop pipe. Just as I fired that little sucker up and
inhaled the first sickening sweet drought of sputtering sprite fat the
vehicle that we arrived in melted into a shimmering puddle of glittering
goo. It was then that I realized that I needed to pace myself and would
not inhale as deeply next time. My memory again grows hazy but I can
remember bits and pieces of sitting in a hot tub with a number of
amazingly well endowed naked Amazon Women.

Saturday I woke to find that I was amazingly sore. I noticed that my
attorney was passed out on his air mattress, the remains of yesterdays
salad smeared all over his body. It was a sickening sight and I decided
then and there to hide his bottle of scotch. Some people just don't
seem to realize when they've gone off the deep end. Walking outside I
was greeted by exceptionally nice weather. Sunny, high puffy clouds,
light breeze and a high of around 75. I celebrate the good weather with
a mushroom omlet (I cook the omlet, melt on the cheese and after it's
done cooking scatter the top liberally with a couple of handfuls of
chopped raw mushrooms). Again, again, again, again, again, again,
again! Sprites! Little fucking rat bastard slack stealing father
raping no good cepholophile toad fornicating sprites! I pull out my
penis and spray a liberal stream of piss at them but they only fight
each other to be in the heaviest part of the stream. Something must be

I find myself standing at the swimming pool. Jesus and Legume are
baptizing people and I quickly loose my clothes and join the frey. I'm
kinda naieve about this religion stuff so I really expected something to
happen. Legume grabbed me, asked if I renounce the con and all its
works and I say yes. He pushed me under the water and held me there
with his foot while he went on to baptise one of the amazingly well
endowed naked Amazon Women from the day before. Her baptism went on for
about ten minutes. He finally released me, slapped me once and
Moe-poked me in my third eye. I vaguely remember telling Stang that I
expected some real results this weekend. He simply looked at my
forehead and laughed. I thought he was being rude until I looked in a
mirror and found that a brand new, baby blue third eye had seen fit to
pop up on my forehead. Again, things get a bit vague but I seem to
remember assisting in the developement of some extreme weponry to be
used against the Pink Minions. My head still writhes with ideas for
diabolical machines of mass pink destruction. I have weird images of
greased water baloons (not to mention watered grease baloons) and guns
that shoot volleys of frightened kittens at your opponent.

I returned late in the day to my tent and find that the Sprites have
enacted their revenge. My entire campsite is a smouldering pile. With
nothing left but my pride and fifty dollars, I collect my attorney,
locate the few scattered undamaged pieces of my gear and leave, beaten,
broken and laughing my ass off.

I'd like to take this moment to thank the organizers of this event,
Stang, Jesus, Legume and all the rest. I had a fucking great time.
Also, I'd like to say that I met many, many truly superior mutations,
you all know who you are.

See y'all next year at my tent. I'll cook omlets.

Pastor Steve


From: i.stang@subgenius.com (Rev. Ivan Stang)
> I vaguely remember telling Stang that I
> expected some real results this weekend. He simply looked at my
> forehead and laughed. I thought he was being rude until I looked in a
> mirror and found that a brand new, baby blue third eye had seen fit to
> pop up on my forehead.

I will vouch for this. I saw the eye. It is probably on the videotape.

Rev. Steve, you weren't hallucinating. There were home-made-weapons
contests and Head Launching Catapult contests. The balloons and the kittens
-- all real. I'm surprised you don't remember the large crowd of people
kicking the human head back and forth across a field... you were there too.

Copyright 1997 by Rev. Ivan Stang / 1st Orthodox Stangian
MegaFisTemple Lodge of People's Covenant Church of the
Wrath of Dobbs Yeti, Resurrected / The SubGenius Foundation,Inc.
PO Box 140306 Dallas TX 75214 / Fax 214-320-1561 / PRABOB
http://www.subgenius.com -- SubSITE of Slack

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