by Paul Vink
None had ever heard of them before in the world of Post Production...but they where there anyway. Bright, young, attractive and...dutch. They called themselves 'the Gastronauts' as they where the down-to-earth diet-extremists walking on nothing but raw fruit, veggies and nuts. Raw-foodists. Converting the rotten world of chemicals, toxins, beef, and other Soho commercial staples into a world where disease is eliminated, man and Nature exist in perfect harmony, and life is a perpetual high. Energetic and athletic, they tramped the streets of Soho..or Sodom...as they called it. As if controlled by a higher force their route lead directly to the entrance of..."Aldis...and more!"
"An orange, perfectly made. You can eat the package, the label is built-in, it's perfect in every way, shape, and form. The orange was "invented" even before the colour orange, you know? That's how good and important oranges are to our existence. Before we needed to invent a colour, we needed to invent a food. So, we named a colour after a fruit." He looks at the crowd, laughing. "That's kinda cool. Hi, my name is Freedom, and we are the Gastronauts."
"Where do these monkeyspankers come from and why aren't they dead yet!" jelled Mik in despair. Vink got up...his hallucinations under control appearently...no surprise there, he was born trippin'. "These are my deciples...and they're on a mission!" Everybody was either overwelmed by the gastronauts making an entrance or by the new warm-, vibrating sound of Vink. "A concentration on nutrition is becoming the next wave of awareness. It's true in Ayurvedic traditions, in Chinese traditions--what you eat is a very important part of how you think. This is the dutch attempt to catch up."
Mik was not impressed. "Attempt...yeah right!" He slipped his homebrewn blade from his sleeve, looked with that look only experienced men and silverbacks have, pointed his metal towards Vink. "Are you talkin' to me?!" He paused...slipped the blade back in and immediately clicked it again " Are YOU talking to me?!"
"You can see the power of a fruit whose auric field is intact," Vink says to Mik "My friend Freedom likes to talk about how the first bite is the only one that matters. It's got its life force, you've got yours, you bite it, you've broken its field and absorbed its essence. You can get rid of the fruit after that. I took a bite out of your Apple a long time ago..."
Mik, overwelmed by this new order paused. Freedom; the RawFoodist and leader of the pack flashed a fresh zucchini from under his ultralightweight insulated parka. Before he could say "fresh fruit", Mik got the green fallic symbol of the italian cuisine in his face. His hair in a mess! In fact it looked a little like the "Brillo's" I use when I forget about the pans in the kitchen....but never mind my culinaria.
"It is very difficult to explain something of this majesty and glory to closed and indoctrinated minds" says Vink in his new timbre. "There's only one disease," he says. "Toxicity. Everything else is a symptom of that disease." Mik just was too much of a messiah of pasteurized dairy products, hormoned meats, white sugar and other radicals in our system...he had to be shredded like a sweet patato"
"The laws of karma are really strong," says Freedom looking at the flabbergasted crowd. "And I don't feel that you have to take action on something like this." Vink shrugs it off in a manner that a non-raw-foodist might describe in terms of needing to break eggs to make an omelette. "Every business owner has had to fire some bad waitress. You know, there's some people in Soho that hate me. It's no big deal." He looks down at Mik and up into the building "I can't wait to be working here"
next week: Nothing planned. No, really.