"everytime my fuel gauge gets near empty i get depressed." "i'll see what i can do about it." Hours went by, cars up the racks down, mine up three, then two at once, they couldnt understand it. the car ran right, but thats nothing to do about the connection between my soaring mood swings. there was a shimmy between 65 and 80. still nothing to do with my depression. i walked around the corner to grab food, but couldnt eat my stale salad. the faces began haunting me again. the flow in and out of bland and as yet unconcious faces. drab whores in clothes bleeding flesh, the soccer moms and business men, all avoiding eye contact with myself and each other. i couldnt stand the faces, the non-expressions. they crammed food in their mouths, spitting seeds and meat across at me from their open mouths, blathering on about the terrible nothings into their cell phones. when were these a commodity beyond manners and respect for my stomach. i threw the salad away and went back to the garage. one of the real angry sorts rushed me, telling me my problem. "well we found this in your transmission." "oh god, what the hell is it? it smells like rotten fish cunts. and why is it oozing and swirling in that pan?" "well, we're not sure but we think this may part of your mind." "no shit? ("well one of our customers is a doctor and he labeled it.") oh, well i suppose it must be. well then let me have it i suppose. it could help i'm sure. can i clean it someh- nevermind. how much do i owe you?" the check of course, these men being the capitlists they are, was exorbitant listing a full check up, mind extraction, and an oil change. i paid it, grumbling how i dont see why i had to pay for something already mine, but decided to keep it at a grumble as the surly attendant did not look in the mood for arguing over such a charge, much less the procedure. i pressed him on how it was in there and his answer was "uhhhhhhhh...EEEEEWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH" all over counter. well at least the faces never bothered his lunch. only that which was behind them it would seem. the matter of what i'd do with such a find was somewhat beyond me, seeing as i had apparently left it in my transmission; my mind. i went home, only to find my apartment in shatters, glass and wood everywhere. the mirror still had some blood on the shards around the room. i sat smoked. i thought maybe in another mind set i could find what the hell this was about when a great leviathan of a thing tumbled into my room foaming and screaming lusting for brains. his forehead had grown over his eyes and the hair upon his body was "beastly! lord whats this? lord!" the grumbling behemoth took quick care of my landlady, and i cant help but remember i thought only of my next months rent is no longer due. he lumbered at me grasping and i stifled a scream as he lunged behind me at the table stealing my mind. i had lost it again, forcefully this time, and there was no regaining it. "you sick bastard! you fuck! i need that! i'll kill myself, dont think i wont!" "greeand sloff ickn strop!" he jammed the thing at his head, his face, right up his nose. he shook some, and i saw most of that slimey mass drip UP INTO HIS FUCKING HEAD. i cant take this right now i thougt. this is nuts. even then though, i knew not the half of it. he tore this way and that and a great light greeted me, shredding my last sense of sanity. maybe it was the weed? no. this had never happened before. a great light overcame us both at which point i blacked out. when i awoke a soft voice chided me into conciousness and the darkness of a house at night where the lights have been destroyed. "thanks. i have been looking for that for weeks." "but...my problem...the gas gauge is near empty, how will i cope?" he smiled, thanked me again and wrote a check for 3,000 dollars and promised more to come sayign how i saved him and his whole family. i never heard from him again, except for every two weeks or so i recieve a check in the mail, repaying me for being depressed, promising more to fuel my insanity. funny thing is, from then on i was never depressed.