---BEGIN FILE ONE (matts song.txt)---

I'd been staying at the Consciousness Inn with a few fellows I knew, and we'd been sipping silently on some sweet languine supreme delight. I'd been mulling over something in my mind for some time, trying to pinpoint an idea, a thought in my head. But I couldn't foucs, all I could see was the tip of my mate's nose. Couldn't look away. So we sat in the lobby of the Inn, all of us trying hard to figure out our own minds, trying hard to rectify a problem we had encountered some hours ago: that once we endulged in the delight at the CI (that is, the Consciousness Inn), we were lost to ourselves. As much as we tried to communicatre, as much as we pondered and try to find a topic of conversation, we simply fell into a waking sleep (some call this the languine void), only able to look at the tip of one anothers noses. You see, the thing with languine, and the CI, is they want you to stay. And I say "we" in reference to languine. She is a living thing. She takes hold of you, straps you down, and points your eyes to the tip of your mate's nose, and his eyes to the tip of yours. She seduces you and shows you a great many things, shows you the secrets but not the ability to comprehend the things you are seeing. She does not allow you the ability to even ask your friends: "now what's all this, then?" and by the time it's all over, and you've waken from this strange daze you're in, you've forgotten exactly what it was that occured, forgotten all about her whisper in your ear. So you and your mates walk away, feelign a bit confused. But we always come back. And each time that we do, we stay a little longer, look at the tips of eachother's noses and try to formulate a thought, try to figure out why this black nectar treats us with such blissful malice. But the harder we try the harder we fail. "Thinking is a privilege, not a right," she says. You look at your mate's nose. You leave. You come back. Ingest more. Nose. Think. Exist. Stream. Instant streaming everywhere. Watch TV shows on the go. Your friends nose. Join free for a month. Think. Try. Leave. Come back. Ingest. Sign in. Enter your email address and password. Netflix.


---BEGIN FILE TWO (half baked.txt) ---
Crack, rip, crinkel. the celophane dismounts from the rim of ben and jerrys flavour number 93. A spoon pulled from the drawer dives into the smooth and cold treat. Ahh. Dip, tantalize, nathans tounge plays with the combination of chocolate and smooth, frozen mallow. deliberate temporary please is acheived at the sacrafice of later poor health. Relaxation is awash on Nathan. Ecstasy is present in his body and mind. Sex, that white dove often longed for, is now but a fools dream in Nathans hyperactive mind. the rich chemical cocktail of sweet and savory has drugged his mind. Calls for reocurring pleasure are answered as scoop after scoop is brought to mouth. penis flacid, face and smile erect. Natha