Decatur

theres interesting stuff other than halo to mod...MY WORLD IS CURRENTLY UPSIDE DOWN

this is amazing id ask for it but im inlove with my custom sig

omfg i just nearly peed laughing the dog wouldnt give up ROFL

man i feel bad for you peaches i can KINDA relate, i met the kid for five mins, said he was trading a 10th prestige on cod for a 1 month and i thought hey what the hell could be fun ranking up on halo and showing of the prestiges and he $%#^%# gave me the $%#^%# wrong information than jumps offline

id heard its good but im trying to steer clear of that stuff its a drug maaaaan

yeah ive lookd too cuz after hacking my ipod i started looking for mor connections and i dont think theres firmware ones because theres no hard connection from ds-pc as in the psp (via internet)

wow were suddenly in tomb raider lol my friend rigged it so it SHOT his games out and they hurt but if he plays a game for more than an hour it shoots itself out

actually its perdy decent im chekcing it out now and its not too shabby

i have one and its a great time killer assuming you have a decent game

i would so buy this the only game i have is new super mario world

hows this game im considering buying

used to play not any more any1 interested in buying my account i forgot info you search it blade 3333

diabloII typo at 2 am my bad

me....SADDDDD

1197

yall just jealous cuz this is amazing and ur mad cuz u didnt find it

my and a friend recited it in class it took us 15 minutes

ost in the Desert (Author unknown) So, thereâs a man crawling through the desert. Heâd decided to try his SUV in a little bit of cross-country travel, had great fun zooming over the badlands and through the sand, got lost, hit a big rock, and then he couldnât get it started again. There were no cell phone towers anywhere near, so his cell phone was useless. He had no family, his parents had died a few years before in an auto accident, and his few friends had no idea he was out here. He stayed with the car for a day or so, but his one bottle of water ran out and he was getting thirsty. He thought maybe he knew the direction back, now that heâd paid attention to the sun and thought heâd figured out which way was north, so he decided to start walking. He figured he only had to go about 30 miles or so and heâd be back to the small town heâd gotten gas in last. He thinks about walking at night to avoid the heat and sun, but based upon how dark it actually was the night before, and given that he has no flashlight, heâs afraid that heâll break a leg or step on a rattlesnake. So, he puts on some sun block, puts the rest in his pocket for reapplication later, brings an umbrella heâd had in the back of the SUV with him to give him a little shade, pours the windshield wiper fluid into his water bottle in case he gets that desperate, brings his pocket knife in case he finds a cactus that looks like it might have water in it, and heads out in the direction he thinks is right. He walks for the entire day. By the end of the day heâs really thirsty. Heâs been sweating all day, and his lips are starting to crack. Heâs reapplied the sunblock twice, and tried to stay under the umbrella, but he still feels sunburned. The windshield wiper fluid sloshing in the bottle in his pocket is really getting tempting now. He knows that itâs mainly water and some ethanol and coloring, but he also knows that they add some kind of poison to it to keep people from drinking it. He wonders what the poison is, and whether the poison would be worse than dying of thirst. He pushes on, trying to get to that small town before dark. By the end of the day he starts getting worried. He figures heâs been walking at least 3 miles an hour, according to his watch for over 10 hours. That means that if his estimate was right that he should be close to the town. But he doesnât recognize any of this. He had to cross a dry creek bed a mile or two back, and he doesnât remember coming through it in the SUV. He figures that maybe he got his direction off just a little and that the dry creek bed was just off to one side of his path. He tells himself that heâs close, and that after dark heâll start seeing the town lights over one of these hills, and thatâll be all he needs. As it gets dim enough that he starts stumbling over small rocks and things, he finds a spot and sits down to wait for full dark and the town lights. Full dark comes before he knows it. He must have dozed off. He stands back up and turns all the way around. He sees nothing but stars. He wakes up the next morning feeling absolutely lousy. His eyes are gummy and his mouth and nose feel like theyâre full of sand. He so thirsty that he canât even swallow. He barely got any sleep because it was so cold. Heâd forgotten how cold it got at night in the desert and hadnât noticed it the night before because heâd been in his car. He knows the Rule of Threes - three minutes without air, three days without water, three weeks without food - then you die. Some people can make it a little longer, in the best situations. But the desert heat and having to walk and sweat isnât the best situation to be without water. He figures, unless he finds water, this is his last day. He rinses his mouth out with a little of the windshield wiper fluid. He waits a while after spitting that little bit out, to see if his mouth goes numb, or he feels dizzy or something. Has his mouth gone numb? Is it just in his mind? Heâs not sure. Heâll go a little farther, and if he still doesnât find water, heâll try drinking some of the fluid. Then he has to face his next, harder question - which way does he go from here? Does he keep walking the same way he was yesterday (assuming that he still knows which way that is), or does he try a new direction? He has no idea what to do. Looking at the hills and dunes around him, he thinks he knows the direction he was heading before. Just going by a feeling, he points himself somewhat to the left of that, and starts walking. As he walks, the day starts heating up. The desert, too cold just a couple of hours before, soon becomes an oven again. He sweats a little at first, and then stops. He starts getting worried at that - when you stop sweating he knows that means youâre in trouble - usually right before heat stroke. He decides that itâs time to try the windshield wiper fluid. He canât wait any longer - if he passes out, heâs dead. He stops in the shade of a large rock, takes the bottle out, opens it, and takes a mouthful. He slowly swallows it, making it last as long as he can. It feels so good in his dry and cracked throat that he doesnât even care about the nasty taste. He takes another mouthful, and makes it last too. Slowly, he drinks half the bottle. He figures that since heâs drinking it, he might as well drink enough to make some difference and keep himself from passing out. Heâs quit worrying about the denaturing of the wiper fluid. If it kills him, it kills him - if he didnât drink it, heâd die anyway. Besides, heâs pretty sure that whatever substance they denature the fluid with is just designed to make you sick - their way of keeping winos from buying cheap wiper fluid for the ethanol content. He can handle throwing up, if it comes to that. He walks. He walks in the hot, dry, windless desert. Sand, rocks, hills, dunes, the occasional scrawny cactus or dried bush. No sign of water. Sometimes heâll see a little movement to one side or the other, but whatever moved is usually gone before he can focus his eyes on it. Probably birds, lizards, or mice. Maybe snakes, though they usually move more at night. Heâs careful to stay away from the movements. After a while, he begins to stagger. Heâs not sure if itâs fatigue, heat stroke finally catching him, or maybe he was wrong and the denaturing of the wiper fluid was worse than he thought. He tries to steady himself, and keep going. After more walking, he comes to a large stretch of sand. This is good! He knows he passed over a stretch of sand in the SUV - he remembers doing donuts in it. Or at least he thinks he remembers it - heâs getting woozy enough and tired enough that heâs not sure what he remembers any more or if heâs hallucinating. But he thinks he remembers it. So he heads off into it, trying to get to the other side, hoping that it gets him closer to the town. He was heading for a town, wasnât he? He thinks he was. He isnât sure any more. Heâs not even sure how long heâs been walking any more. Is it still morning? Or has it moved into afternoon and the sun is going down again? It must be afternoon - it seems like itâs been too long since he started out. He walks through the sand. After a while, he comes to a big dune in the sand. This is bad. He doesnât remember any dunes when driving over the sand in his SUV. Or at least he doesnât think he remembers any. This is bad. But, he has no other direction to go. Too late to turn back now. He figures that heâll get to the top of the dune and see if he can see anything from there that helps him find the town. He keeps going up the dune. Halfway up, he slips in the bad footing of the sand for the second or third time, and falls to his knees. He doesnât feel like getting back up - heâll just fall down again. So, he keeps going up the dune on his hand and knees. While crawling, if his throat werenât so dry, heâd laugh. Heâs finally gotten to the hackneyed image of a man lost in the desert - crawling through the sand on his hands and knees. If would be the perfect image, he imagines, if only his clothes were more ragged. The people crawling through the desert in the cartoons always had ragged clothes. But his have lasted without any rips so far. Somebody will probably find his dessicated corpse half buried in the sand years from now, and his clothes will still be in fine shape -shake the sand out, and a good wash, and theyâd be wearable again. He wishes his throat were wet enough to laugh. He coughs a little instead, and it hurts. He finally makes it to the top of the sand dune. Now that heâs at the top, he struggles a little, but manages to stand up and look around. All he sees is sand. Sand, and more sand. Behind him, about a mile away, he thinks he sees the rocky ground he left to head into this sand. Ahead of him, more dunes, more sand. This isnât where he drove his SUV. This is Hell. Or close enough. Again, he doesnât know what to do. He decides to drink the rest of the wiper fluid while figuring it out. He takes out the bottle, and is removing the cap, when he glances to the side and sees something. Something in the sand. At the bottom of the dune, off to the side, he sees something strange. Itâs a flat area, in the sand. He stops taking the cap of the bottle off, and tries to look closer. The area seems to be circular. And itâs dark - darker than the sand. And, there seems to be something in the middle of it, but he canât tell what it is. He looks as hard as he can, and still can tell from here. Heâs going to have to go down there and look. He puts the bottle back in his pocket, and starts to stumble down the dune. After a few steps, he realizes that heâs in trouble - heâs not going to be able to keep his balance. After a couple of more sliding, tottering steps, he falls and starts to roll down the dune. The sand it so hot when his body hits it that for a minute he thinks heâs caught fire on the way down - like a movie car wreck flashing into flames as it goes over the cliff, before it ever even hits the ground. He closes his eyes and mouth, covers his face with his hands, and waits to stop rolling. He stops, at the bottom of the dune. After a minute or two, he finds enough energy to try to sit up and get the sand out of his face and clothes. When he clears his eyes enough, he looks around to make sure that the dark spot in the sand it still there and he hadnât just imagined it. So, seeing the large, flat, dark spot on the sand is still there, he begins to crawl towards it. Heâd get up and walk towards it, but he doesnât seem to have the energy to get up and walk right now. He must be in the final stages of dehydration he figures, as he crawls. If this place in the sand doesnât have water, heâll likely never make it anywhere else. This is his last chance. He gets closer and closer, but still canât see whatâs in the middle of the dark area. His eyes wonât quite focus any more for some reason. And lifting his head up to look takes so much effort that he gives up trying. He just keeps crawling. Finally, he reaches the area heâd seen from the dune. It takes him a minute of crawling on it before he realizes that heâs no longer on sand - heâs now crawling on some kind of dark stone. Stone with some kind of marking on it -a pattern cut into the stone. Heâs too tired to stand up and try to see what the pattern is - so he just keeps crawling. He crawls towards the center, where his blurry eyes still see something in the middle of the dark stone area. His mind, detached in a strange way, notes that either his hands and knees are so burnt by the sand that they no longer feel pain, or that this dark stone, in the middle of a burning desert with a pounding, punishing sun overhead, doesnât seem to be hot. It almost feels cool. He considers lying down on the nice cool surface. Cool, dark stone. Not a good sign. He must be hallucinating this. Heâs probably in the middle of a patch of sand, already lying face down and dying, and just imagining this whole thing. A desert mirage. Soon the beautiful women carrying pitchers of water will come up and start giving him a drink. Then heâll know heâs gone. He decides against laying down on the cool stone. If heâs going to die here in the middle of this hallucination, he at least wants to see whatâs in the center before he goes. He keeps crawling. Itâs the third time that he hears the voice before he realizes what heâs hearing. He would swear that someone just said, âGreetings, traveler. You do not look well. Do you hear me?â He stops crawling. He tries to look up from where he is on his hands and knees, but itâs too much effort to lift his head. So he tries something different - he leans back and tries to sit up on the stone. After a few seconds, he catches his balance, avoids falling on his face, sits up, and tries to focus his eyes. Blurry. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hands and tries again. Better this time. Yep. He can see. Heâs sitting in the middle of a large, flat, dark expanse of stone. Directly next to him, about three feet away, is a white post or pole about two inches in diameter and sticking up about four or five feet out of the stone, at an angle. And wrapped around this white rod, tail with rattle on it hovering and seeming to be ready to start rattling, is what must be a fifteen foot long desert diamondback rattlesnake, looking directly at him. He stares at the snake in shock. He doesnât have the energy to get up and run away. He doesnât even have the energy to crawl away. This is it, his final resting place. No matter what happens, heâs not going to be able to move from this spot. Well, at least dying of a bite from this monster should be quicker than dying of thirst. Heâll face his end like a man. He struggles to sit up a little straighter. The snake keeps watching him. He lifts one hand and waves it in the snakeâs direction, feebly. The snake watches the hand for a moment, then goes back to watching the man, looking into his eyes. Hmmm. Maybe the snake had no interest in biting him? It hadnât rattled yet -that was a good sign. Maybe he wasnât going to die of snake bite after all. He then remembers that heâd looked up when heâd reached the center here because he thought heâd heard a voice. He was still very woozy - he was likely to pass out soon, the sun still beat down on him even though he was now on cool stone. He still didnât have anything to drink. But maybe he had actually heard a voice. This stone didnât look natural. Nor did that white post sticking up out of the stone. Someone had to have built this. Maybe they were still nearby. Maybe that was who talked to him. Maybe this snake was even their pet, and thatâs why it wasnât biting. He tries to clear his throat to say, âHello,â but his throat is too dry. All that comes out is a coughing or wheezing sound. There is no way heâs going to be able to talk without something to drink. He feels his pocket, and the bottle with the wiper fluid is still there. He shakily pulls the bottle out, almost losing his balance and falling on his back in the process. This isnât good. He doesnât have much time left, by his reckoning, before he passes out. He gets the lid off of the bottle, manages to get the bottle to his lips, and pours some of the fluid into his mouth. He sloshes it around, and then swallows it. He coughs a little. His throat feels better. Maybe he can talk now. He tries again. Ignoring the snake, he turns to look around him, hoping to spot the owner of this place, and croaks out, âHello? Is there anyone here?â He hears, from his side, âGreetings. What is it that you want?â He turns his head, back towards the snake. Thatâs where the sound had seemed to come from. The only thing he can think of is that there must be a speaker, hidden under the snake, or maybe built into that post. He decides to try asking for help. âPlease,â he croaks again, suddenly feeling dizzy, âIâd love to not be thirsty any more. Iâve been a long time without water. Can you help me?â Looking in the direction of the snake, hoping to see where the voice was coming from this time, he is shocked to see the snake rear back, open its mouth, and speak. He hears it say, as the dizziness overtakes him and he falls forward, face first on the stone, âVery well. Coming up.â A piercing pain shoots through his shoulder. Suddenly he is awake. He sits up and grabs his shoulder, wincing at the throbbing pain. Heâs momentarily disoriented as he looks around, and then he remembers - the crawl across the sand, the dark area of stone, the snake. He sees the snake, still wrapped around the tilted white post, still looking at him. He reaches up and feels his shoulder, where it hurts. It feels slightly wet. He pulls his fingers away and looks at them - blood. He feels his shoulder again - his shirt has what feels like two holes in it - two puncture holes -they match up with the two aching spots of pain on his shoulder. He had been bitten. By the snake. âItâll feel better in a minute.â He looks up - itâs the snake talking. He hadnât dreamed it. Suddenly he notices - heâs not dizzy any more. And more importantly, heâs not thirsty any more - at all! âHave I died? Is this the afterlife? Why are you biting me in the afterlife?â âSorry about that, but I had to bite you,â says the snake. âThatâs the way I work. It all comes through the bite. Think of it as natural medicine.â âYou bit me to help me? Why arenât I thirsty any more? Did you give me a drink before you bit me? How did I drink enough while unconscious to not be thirsty any more? I havenât had a drink for over two days. Well, except for the windshield wiper fluid⦠hold it, how in the world does a snake talk? Are you real? Are you some sort of Disney animation?â âNo,â says the snake, âIâm real. As real as you or anyone is, anyway. I didnât give you a drink. I bit you. Thatâs how it works - itâs what I do. I bite. I donât have hands to give you a drink, even if I had water just sitting around here.â The man sat stunned for a minute. Here he was, sitting in the middle of the desert on some strange stone that should be hot but wasnât, talking to a snake that could talk back and had just bitten him. And he felt better. Not great - he was still starving and exhausted, but much better - he was no longer thirsty. He had started to sweat again, but only slightly. He felt hot, in this sun, but it was starting to get lower in the sky, and the cool stone beneath him was a relief he could notice now that he was no longer dying of thirst. âI might suggest that we take care of that methanol you now have in your system with the next request,â continued the snake. âI can guess why you drank it, but Iâm not sure how much you drank, or how much methanol was left in the wiper fluid. That stuff is nasty. Itâll make you go blind in a day or two, if you drank enough of it.â âUmmm, n-next request?â said the man. He put his hand back on his hurting shoulder and backed away from the snake a little. âThatâs the way it works. If you like, that is,â explained the snake. âYou get three requests. Call them wishes, if you wish.â The snake grinned at his own joke, and the man drew back a little further from the show of fangs. âBut there are rules,â the snake continued. âThe first request is free. The second requires an agreement of secrecy. The third requires the binding of responsibility.â The snake looks at the man seriously. âBy the way,â the snake says suddenly, âmy name is Nathan. Old Nathan, Samuel used to call me. He gave me the name. Before that, most of the Bound used to just call me âSnakeâ. But that got old, and Samuel wouldnât stand for it. He said that anything that could talk needed a name. He was big into names. You can call me Nate, if you wish.â Again, the snake grinned. âSorry if I donât offer to shake, but I think you can understand - my shake sounds somewhat threatening.â The snake give his rattle a little shake. âUmm, my name is Jack,â said the man, trying to absorb all of this. âJack Samson. âCan I ask you a question?â Jack says suddenly. âWhat happened to the poisonâ¦umm, in your bite. Why arenât I dying now? How did you do that? What do you mean by thatâs how you work?â âThatâs more than one question,â grins Nate. âBut Iâll still try to answer all of them. First, yes, you can ask me a question.â The snakeâs grin gets wider. âSecond, the poison is in you. It changed you. You now no longer need to drink. Thatâs what you asked for. Or, well, technically, you asked to not be thirsty any more - but âany moreâ is such a vague term. I decided to make it permanent - now, as long as you live, you shouldnât need to drink much at all. Your body will conserve water very efficiently. You should be able to get enough just from the food you eat - much like a creature of the desert. Youâve been changed. âFor the third question,â Nate continues, âyou are still dying. Besides the effects of that methanol in your system, youâre a man - and men are mortal. In your current state, I give you no more than about another 50 years. Assuming you get out of this desert, alive, that is.â Nate seemed vastly amused at his own humor, and continued his wide grin. âAs for the fourth question,â Nate said, looking more serious as far as Jack could tell, as Jack was just now working on his ability to read talking-snake emotions from snake facial features, âfirst you have to agree to make a second request and become bound by the secrecy, or I canât tell you.â âWait,â joked Jack, âisnât this where you say you could tell me, but youâd have to kill me?â âI thought that was implied.â Nate continued to look serious. âUmmmâ¦yeah.â Jack leaned back a little as he remembered again that he was talking to a fifteen foot poisonous reptile with a reputation for having a nasty temper. âSo, what is this âBound by Secrecyâ stuff, and can you really stop the effects of the methanol?â Jack thought for a second. âAnd, what do you mean methanol, anyway? I thought these days they use ethanol in wiper fluid, and just denature it?â âThey may, I donât really know,â said Nate. âI havenât gotten out in a while. Maybe they do. All I know is that I smell methanol on your breath and on that bottle in your pocket. And the blue color of the liquid when you pulled it out to drink some let me guess that it was wiper fluid. I assume that they still color wiper fluid blue?â âYeah, they do,â said Jack. âI figured,â replied Nate. âAs for being bound by secrecy - with the fulfillment of your next request, you will be bound to say nothing about me, this place, or any of the information I will tell you after that, when you decide to go back out to your kind. You wonât be allowed to talk about me, write about me, use sign language, charades, or even act in a way that will lead someone to guess correctly about me. Youâll be bound to secrecy. Of course, Iâll also ask you to promise not to give me away, and as Iâm guessing that youâre a man of your word, youâll never test the binding anyway, so you wonât notice.â Nate said the last part with utter confidence. Jack, who had always prided himself on being a man of his word, felt a little nervous at this. âUmmm, hey, Nate, who are you? How did you know that? Are you, umm, omniscient, or something?â Well, Jack,â said Nate sadly, âI canât tell you that, unless you make the second request.â Nate looked away for a minute, then looked back. âUmm, well, ok,â said Jack, âwhat is this about a second request? What can I ask for? Are you allowed to tell me that?â âSure!â said Nate, brightening. âYouâre allowed to ask for changes. Changes to yourself. Theyâre like wishes, but they can only affect you. Oh, and before you ask, I canât give you immortality. Or omniscience. Or omnipresence, for that matter. Though I might be able to make you gaseous and yet remain alive, and then you could spread through the atmosphere and sort of be omnipresent. But what good would that be - you still wouldnât be omniscient and thus still could only focus on one thing at a time. Not very useful, at least in my opinion.â Nate stopped when he realized that Jack was staring at him. âWell, anyway,â continued Nate, âIâd probably suggest giving you permanent good health. It would negate the methanol now in your system, youâd be immune to most poisons and diseases, and youâd tend to live a very long time, barring accident, of course. And youâll even have a tendency to recover from accidents well. It always seemed like a good choice for a request to me.â âCure the methanol poisoning, huh?â said Jack. âAnd keep me healthy for a long time? Hmmm. It doesnât sound bad at that. And it has to be a request about a change to me? I canât ask to be rich, right? Because thatâs not really a change to me?â âRight,â nodded Nate. âCould I ask to be a genius and permanently healthy?â Jack asked, hopefully. âThat takes two requests, Jack.â âYeah, I figured so,â said Jack. âBut I could ask to be a genius? I could become the smartest scientist in the world? Or the best athlete?â âWell, I could make you very smart,â admitted Nate, âbut that wouldnât necessarily make you the best scientist in the world. Or, I could make you very athletic, but it wouldnât necessarily make you the best athlete either. Youâve heard the saying that 99% of genius is hard work? Well, thereâs some truth to that. I can give you the talent, but I canât make you work hard. It all depends on what you decide to do with it.â âHmmm,â said Jack. âOk, I think I understand. And I get a third request, after this one?â âMaybe,â said Nate, âit depends on what you decide then. There are more rules for the third request that I can only tell you about after the second request. You know how it goes.â Nate looked like heâd shrug, if he had shoulders. âOk, well, since Iâd rather not be blind in a day or two, and permanent health doesnât sound bad, then consider that my second request. Officially. Do I need to sign in blood or something?â âNo,â said Nate. âJust hold out your hand. Or heel.â Nate grinned. âOr whatever part you want me to bite. I have to bite you again. Like I said, thatâs how it works - the poison, you know,â Nate said apologetically. Jack winced a little and felt his shoulder, where the last bite was. Hey, it didnât hurt any more. Just like Nate had said. That made Jack feel better about the biting business. But still, standing still while a fifteen foot snake sunk itâs fangs into you. Jack stood up. Ignoring how good it felt to be able to stand again, and the hunger starting to gnaw at his stomach, Jack tried to decide where he wanted to get bitten. Despite knowing that it wouldnât hurt for long, Jack knew that this wasnât going to be easy. âHey, Jack,â Nate suddenly said, looking past Jack towards the dunes behind him, âis that someone else coming up over there?â Jack spun around and looked. Who else could be out here in the middle of nowhere? And did they bring food? Wait a minute, there was nobody over there. What was Nate⦠Jack let out a bellow as he felt two fangs sink into his rear end, through his jeans⦠Jack sat down carefully, favoring his more tender buttock. âI would have decided, eventually, Nate. I was just thinking about it. You didnât have to hoodwink me like that.â âIâve been doing this a long time, Jack,â said Nate, confidently. âYou humans have a hard time sitting still and letting a snake bite you - especially one my size. And besides, admit it - itâs only been a couple of minutes and it already doesnât hurt any more, does it? Thatâs because of the health benefit with this one. I told you that youâd heal quickly now.â âYeah, well, still,â said Jack, âitâs the principle of the thing. And nobody likes being bitten in the butt! Couldnât you have gotten my calf or something instead?â âMore meat in the typical human butt,â replied Nate. âAnd less chance you accidentally kick me or move at the last second.â âYeah, right. So, tell me all of these wonderful secrets that I now qualify to hear,â answered Jack. âOk,â said Nate. âDo you want to ask questions first, or do you want me to just start talking?â âJust talk,â said Jack. âIâll sit here and try to not think about food.â âWe could go try to rustle up some food for you first, if you like,â answered Nate. âHey! You didnât tell me you had food around here, Nate!â Jack jumped up. âWhat do we have? Am I in walking distance to town? Or can you magically whip up food along with your other powers?â Jack was almost shouting with excitement. His stomach had been growling for hours. âI was thinking more like I could flush something out of its hole and bite it for you, and you could skin it and eat it. Assuming you have a knife, that is,â replied Nate, with the grin that Jack was starting to get used to. âUgh,â said Jack, sitting back down. âI think Iâll pass. I can last a little longer before I get desperate enough to eat desert rat, or whatever else it is you find out here. And thereâs nothing to burn - Iâd have to eat it raw. No thanks. Just talk.â âOk,â replied Nate, still grinning. âBut Iâd better hurry, before you start looking at me as food. Nate reared back a little, looked around for a second, and then continued. âYou, Jack, are sitting in the middle of the Garden of Eden.â Jack looked around at the sand and dunes and then looked back at Nate sceptically. âWell, thatâs the best I can figure it, anyway, Jack,â said Nate. âStand up and look at the symbol on the rock here.â Nate gestured around the dark stone they were both sitting on with his nose. Jack stood up and looked. Carved into the stone in a bas-relief was a representation of a large tree. The angled-pole that Nate was wrapped around was coming out of the trunk of the tree, right below where the main branches left the truck to reach out across the stone. It was very well done - it looked more like a tree had been reduced to almost two dimensions and embedded in the stone than it did like a carving. Jack walked around and looked at the details in the fading light of the setting sun. He wished heâd looked at it while the sun was higher in the sky. Wait! The sun was setting! That meant he was going to have to spend another night out here! Arrrgh! Jack looked out across the desert for a little bit, and then came back and stood next to Nate. âIn all the excitement, I almost forgot, Nate,â said Jack. âWhich way is it back to town? And how far? Iâm eventually going to have to head back - Iâm not sure Iâll be able to survive by eating raw desert critters for long. And even if I can, Iâm not sure Iâll want to.â âItâs about 30 miles that way.â Nate pointed, with the rattle on his tail this time. As far as Jack could tell, it was a direction at right angles to the way heâd been going when he was crawling here. âBut thatâs 30 miles by the way the crow flies. Itâs about 40 by the way a man walks. You should be able to do it in about half a day with your improved endurance, if you head out early tomorrow, Jack.â Jack looked out the way the snake had pointed for a few seconds more, and then sat back down. It was getting dark. Not much he could do about heading out right now. And besides, Nate was just about to get to the interesting stuff. âGarden of Eden? As best as you can figure it?â âWell, yeah, as best as I and Samuel could figure it anyway,â said Nate. âHe figured that the story just got a little mixed up. You know, snake, in a âtreeâ, offering âtemptationsâ, making bargains. That kind stuff. But he could never quite figure out how the Hebrews found out about this spot from across the ocean. He worried about that for a while.â âGarden of Eden, hunh?â said Jack. âHow long have you been here, Nate?â âNo idea, really,â replied Nate. âA long time. It never occurred to me to count years, until recently, and by then, of course, it was too late. But I do remember when this whole place was green, so I figure itâs been thousands of years, at least.â âSo, are you the snake that tempted Eve?â said Jack. âBeats me,â said Nate. âMaybe. I canât remember if the first one of your kind that I talked to was female or not, and I never got a name, but it could have been. And I suppose she could have considered my offer to grant requests a âtemptationâ, though Iâve rarely had refusals.â âWell, umm, how did you get here then? And why is that white pole stuck out of the stone there?â asked Jack. âDad left me here. Or, I assume it was my dad. It was another snake - much bigger than I was back then. I remember talking to him, but I donât remember if it was in a language, or just kind of understanding what he wanted. But one day, he brought me to this stone, told me about it, and asked me to do something for him. I talked it over with him for a while, then agreed. Iâve been here ever since. âWhat is this place?â said Jack. âAnd what did he ask you to do?â âWell, you see this pole here, sticking out of the stone?â Nate loosened his coils around the tilted white pole and showed Jack where it descended into the stone. The pole was tilted at about a 45 degree angle and seemed to enter the stone in an eighteen inch slot cut into the stone. Jack leaned over and looked. The slot was dark and the pole went down into it as far as Jack could see in the dim light. Jack reached out to touch the pole, but Nate was suddenly there in the way. âYou canât touch that yet, Jack,â said Nate. âWhy not?â asked Jack. âI havenât explained it to you yet,â replied Nate. âWell, it kinda looks like a lever or something,â said Jack. âYouâd push it that way, and it would move in the slot.â âYep, thatâs what it is,â replied Nate. âWhat does it do?â asked Jack. âEnd the world.â âOh, no,â said Nate. âNothing that drastic. It just ends humanity. I call it âThe Lever of Doomâ.â For the last few words Nate had used a deeper, ringing voice. He tried to look serious for a few seconds, and then gave up and grinned. Jack was initially startled by Nateâs pronouncement, but when Nate grinned Jack laughed. âHa! You almost had me fooled for a second there. What does it really do?â âOh, it really ends humanity, like I said,â smirked Nate. âI just thought the voice I used was funny, didnât you?â Nate continued to grin. âA lever to end humanity?â asked Jack. âWhat in the world is that for? Why would anyone need to end humanity?â âWell,â replied Nate, âI get the idea that maybe humanity was an experiment. Or maybe the Big Guy just thought, that if humanity started going really bad, there should be a way to end it. Iâm not really sure. All I know are the rules, and the guesses that Samuel and I had about why itâs here. I didnât think to ask back when I started here.â âRules? What rules?â asked Jack. âThe rules are that I canât tell anybody about it or let them touch it unless they agree to be bound to secrecy by a bite. And that only one human can be bound in that way at a time. Thatâs it.â explained Nate. Jack looked somewhat shocked. âYou mean that I could pull the lever now? Youâd let me end humanity?â âYep,â replied Nate, âif you want to.â Nate looked at Jack carefully. âDo you want to, Jack?â âUmm, no.â said Jack, stepping a little further back from the lever. âWhy in the world would anyone want to end humanity? Itâd take a psychotic to want that! Or worse, a suicidal psychotic, because it would kill him too, wouldnât it?â âYep,â replied Nate, âbeing as heâd be human too.â âHas anyone ever seriously considered it?â asked Nate. âAny of those bound to secrecy, that is?â âWell, of course, I think theyâve all seriously considered it at one time or another. Being given that kind of responsibility makes you sit down and think, or so Iâm told. Samuel considered it several times. Heâd often get disgusted with humanity, come out here, and just hold the lever for a while. But he never pulled it. Or you wouldnât be here.â Nate grinned some more. Jack sat down, well back from the lever. He looked thoughtful and puzzled at the same time. After a bit, he said, âSo this makes me the Judge of humanity? I get to decide whether they keep going or just end? Me?â âThat seems to be it,â agreed Nate. âWhat kind of criteria do I use to decide?â said Jack. âHow do I make this decision? Am I supposed to decide if theyâre good? Or too many of them are bad? Or that theyâre going the wrong way? Is there a set of rules for that?â âNope,â replied Nate. âYou pretty much just have to decide on your own. Itâs up to you, however you want to decide it. I guess that youâre just supposed to know.â âBut what if I get mad at someone? Or some girl dumps me and I feel horrible? Couldnât I make a mistake? How do I know that I wonât screw up?â protested Jack. Nate gave his kind of snake-like shrug again. âYou donât. You just have to try your best, Jack.â Jack sat there for a while, staring off into the desert that was rapidly getting dark, chewing on a fingernail. Suddenly, Jack turned around and looked at the snake. âNate, was Samuel the one bound to this before me?â âYep,â replied Nate. âHe was a good guy. Talked to me a lot. Taught me to read and brought me books. I think I still have a good pile of them buried in the sand around here somewhere. I still miss him. He died a few months ago.â âSounds like a good guy,â agreed Jack. âHow did he handle this, when you first told him. What did he do?â âWell,â said Nate, âhe sat down for a while, thought about it for a bit, and then asked me some questions, much like youâre doing.â âWhat did he ask you, if youâre allowed to tell me?â asked Jack. âHe asked me about the third request,â replied Nate. âAha!â It was Jackâs turn to grin. âAnd what did you tell him?â âI told him the rules for the third request. That to get the third request you have to agree to this whole thing. That if it ever comes to the point that you really think that humanity should be ended, that youâll come here and end it. You wonât avoid it, and you wonât wimp out.â Nate looked serious again. âAnd youâll be bound to do it too, Jack.â âHmmm.â Jack looked back out into the darkness for a while. Nate watched him, waiting. âNate,â continued Jack, quietly, eventually. âWhat did Samuel ask for with his third request?â Nate sounded like he was grinning again as he replied, also quietly, âWisdom, Jack. He asked for wisdom. As much as I could give him.â âOk,â said Jack, suddenly, standing up and facing away from Nate, âgive it to me. Nate looked at Jackâs backside. âGive you what, Jack?â âGive me that wisdom. The same stuff that Samuel asked for. If it helped him, maybe itâll help me too.â Jack turned his head to look back over his shoulder at Nate. âIt did help him, right?â âHe said it did,â replied Nate. âBut he seemed a little quieter afterward. Like he had a lot to think about.â âWell, yeah, I can see that,â said Jack. âSo, give it to me.â Jack turned toface away from Nate again, bent over slightly and tensed up. Nate watched Jack tense up with a little exasperation. If he bit Jack now, Jack would likely jump out of his skin and maybe hurt them both. âYou remember that youâll be bound to destroy humanity if it ever looks like it needs it, right Jack?â asked Nate, shifting position. âYeah, yeah, I got that,â replied Jack, eyes squeezed tightly shut and body tense, not noticing the change in direction of Nateâs voice. âAnd,â continued Nate, from his new position, âdo you remember that youâll turn bright purple, and grow big horns and extra eyes?â âYeah, yeahâ¦Hey, wait a minute!â said Jack, opening his eyes, straightening up and turning around. âPurple?!â He didnât see Nate there. With the moonlight Jack could see that the lever extended up from its slot in the rock without the snake wrapped around it. Jack heard, from behind him, Nateâs âJust Kidding!â right before he felt the now familiar piercing pain, this time in the other buttock. Jack sat on the edge of the dark stone in the rapidly cooling air, his feet extending out into the sand. He stared out into the darkness, listening to the wind stir the sand, occasionally rubbing his butt where heâd been recently bitten. Nate had left for a little while, had come back with a desert-rodent-shaped bulge somewhere in his middle, and was now wrapped back around the lever, his tongue flicking out into the desert nightâs air the only sign that he was still awake. Occasionally Jack, with his toes absentmindedly digging in the sand while he thought, would ask Nate a question without turning around. âNate, do accidents count?â Nate lifted his head a little bit. âWhat do you mean, Jack?â Jack tilted his head back like he was looking at the stars. âYou know, accidents. If I accidentally fall on the lever, without meaning to, does that still wipe out humanity?â âYeah, Iâm pretty sure it does, Jack. Iâd suggest you be careful about that if you start feeling wobbly,â said Nate with some amusement. A little later - âDoes it have to be me that pulls the lever?â asked Jack. âThatâs the rule, Jack. Nobody else can pull it,â answered Nate. âNo,â Jack shook his head, âI meant does it have to be my hand? Could I pull the lever with a rope tied around it? Or push it with a stick? Or throw a rock?â âYes, those should work,â replied Nate. âThough Iâm not sure how complicated you could get. Samuel thought about trying to build some kind of remote control for it once, but gave it up. Everything heâd build would be gone by the next sunrise, if it was touching the stone, or over it. I told him that in the past others that had been bound had tried to bury the lever so they wouldnât be tempted to pull it, but every time the stones or sand or whatever had disappeared.â âWow,â said Jack, âCool.â Jack leaned back until only his elbows kept him off of the stone and looked up into the sky. âNate, how long did Samuel live? One of his wishes was for health too, right?â asked Jack. âYes,â replied Nate, âit was. He lived 167 years, Jack.â âWow, 167 years. Thatâs almost 140 more years Iâll live if I live as long. Do you know what he died of, Nate?â âHe died of getting tired of living, Jack,â Nate said, sounding somewhat sad. Jack turned his head to look at Nate in the starlight. Nate looked back. âSamuel knew he wasnât going to be able to stay in society. He figured that theyâd eventually see him still alive and start questioning it, so he decided that heâd have to disappear after a while. He faked his death once, but changed his mind - he decided it was too early and he could stay for a little longer. He wasnât very fond of mankind, but he liked the attention. Most of the time, anyway. âHis daughter and then his wife dying almost did him in though. He didnât stay in society much longer after that. He eventually came out here to spend time talking to me and thinking about pulling the lever. A few months ago he told me heâd had enough. It was his time.â âAnd then he just died?â asked Jack. Nate shook his head a little. âHe made his forth request, Jack. Thereâs only one thing you can ask for the fourth request. The last bite. After a bit Nate continued, âHe told me that he was tired, that it was his time. He reassured me that someone new would show up soon, like they always had. After another pause, Nate finished, âSamuelâs body disappeared off the stone with the sunrise.â Jack lay back down and looked at the sky, leaving Nate alone with his memories. It was a long time until Jackâs breathing evened out into sleep. Jack woke with the sunrise the next morning. He was a little chilled with the morning desert air, but overall was feeling pretty good. Well, except that his stomach was grumbling and he wasnât willing to eat raw desert rat. So, after getting directions to town from Nate, making sure he knew how to get back, and reassuring Nate that heâd be back soon, Jack started the long walk back to town. With his new health and Nateâs good directions, he made it back easily. Jack caught a bus back to the city, and showed up for work the next day, little worse for the wear and with a story about getting lost in the desert and walking back out. Within a couple of days Jack had talked a friend with a tow truck into going back out into the desert with him to fetch the SUV. They found it after a couple of hours of searching and towed it back without incident. Jack was careful not to even look in the direction of Nateâs lever, though their path back didnât come within sight of it. Before the next weekend, Jack had gone to a couple of stores, including a book store, and had gotten his SUV back from the mechanic, with a warning to avoid any more joyriding in the desert. On Saturday, Jack headed back to see Nate. Jack parked a little way out of the small town near Nate, loaded up his new backpack with camping gear and the things he was bringing for Nate, and then started walking. He figured that walking would leave the least trail, and he knew that while not many people camped in the desert, it wasnât unheard of, and shouldnât really raise suspicions. Jack had brought more books for Nate - recent books, magazines, newspapers. Some things that would catch Nate up with what was happening in the world, others that were just good books to read. He spent the weekend with Nate, and then headed out again, telling Nate that heâd be back again soon, but that he had things to do first. Over four months later Jack was back to see Nate again. This time he brought a laptop with him - a specially modified laptop. It had a solar recharger, special filters and seals to keep out the sand, a satellite link-up, and a special keyboard and joystick that Jack hoped that a fifteen-foot rattlesnake would be able to use. And, it had been hacked to not give out its location to the satellite. After that Jack could e-mail Nate to keep in touch, but still visited him fairly regularly - at least once or twice a year. After the first year, Jack quit his job. For some reason, with the wisdom he âd been given, and the knowledge that he could live for over 150 years, working in a nine to five job for someone else didnât seem that worthwhile any more. Jack went back to school. Eventually, Jack started writing. Perhaps because of the wisdom, or perhaps because of his new perspective, he wrote well. People liked what he wrote, and he became well known for it. After a time, Jack bought an RV and started traveling around the country for book signings and readings. But, he still remembered to drop by and visit Nate occasionally. On one of the visits Nate seemed quieter than usual. Not that Nate had been a fountain of joy lately. Jackâs best guess was that Nate was still missing Samuel, and though Jack had tried, he still hadnât been able to replace Samuel in Nateâs eyes. Nate had been getting quieter each visit. But on this visit Nate didnât even speak when Jack walked up to the lever. He nodded at Jack, and then went back to staring into the desert. Jack, respecting Nateâs silence, sat down and waited. After a few minutes, Nate spoke. âJack, I have someone to introduce you to.â Jack looked surprised. âSomeone to introduce me to?â Jack looked around, and then looked carefully back at Nate. âThis something to do with the Big Guy? âNo, no,â replied Nate. âThis is more personal. I want you to meet my son.â Nate looked over at the nearest sand dune. âSammy!â Jack watched as a four foot long desert rattlesnake crawled from behind the dune and up to the stone base of the lever. âYo, Jack,â said the new, much smaller snake. âYo, Sammyâ replied Jack. Jack looked at Nate. âNamed after Samuel, I assume?â Nate nodded. âJack, Iâve got a favor to ask you. Could you show Sammy around for me?â Nate unwrapped himself from the lever and slithered over to the edge of the stone and looked across the sands. âWhen Samuel first told me about the world, and brought me books and pictures, I wished that I could go see it. I wanted to see the great forests, the canyons, the cities, even the other deserts, to see if they felt and smelled the same. I want my son to have that chance - to see the world. Before he becomes bound here like I have been. âHeâs seen it in pictures, over the computer that you brought me. But I hear that itâs not the same. That being there is different. I want him to have that. Think you can do that for me, Jack?â Jack nodded. This was obviously very important to Nate, so Jack didnât even joke about taking a talking rattlesnake out to see the world. âYeah, I can do that for you, Nate. Is that all you need?â Jack could sense that was something more. Nate looked at Sammy. Sammy looked back at Nate for a second and then said, âOh, yeah. Ummm, Iâve gotta go pack. Back in a little bit Jack. Nice to meet ya!â Sammy slithered back over the dune and out of sight. Nate watched Sammy disappear and then looked back at Jack. âJack, this is my first son. My first offspring through all the years. You donât even want to know what it took for me to find a mate.â Nate grinned to himself. âBut anyway, I had a son for a reason. Iâm tired. Iâm ready for it to be over. I needed a replacement.â Jack considered this for a minute. âSo, youâre ready to come see the world, and you wanted him to watch the lever while you were gone?â Nate shook his head. âNo, Jack - youâre a better guesser than that. Youâve already figured out - Iâm bound here - thereâs only one way for me to leave here. And Iâm ready. Itâs my time to die.â Jack looked more closely at Nate. He could tell Nate had thought about this - probably for quite a while. Jack had trouble imagining what it would be like to be as old as Nate, but Jack could already tell that in another hundred or two hundred years, he might be getting tired of life himself. Jack could understand Samuelâs decision, and now Nateâs. So, all Jack said was, âWhat do you want me to do?â Nate nodded. âThanks, Jack. I only want two things. One - show Sammy around the world - let him get his fill of it, until heâs ready to come back here and take over. Two - give me the fourth request. âI canât just decide to die, not any more than you can. I wonât even die of old age like you eventually will, even though itâll be a long time from now. I need to be killed. Once Sammy is back here, ready to take over, Iâll be able to die. And I need you to kill me. âIâve even thought about how. Poisons and other drugs wonât work on me. And Iâve seen pictures of snakes that were shot - some of them live for days, so thatâs out too. So, I want you to bring back a sword. Nate turned away to look back to the dune that Sammy had gone behind. âIâd say an axe, but thatâs somewhat undignified - putting my head on the ground or a chopping block like that. No, I like a sword. A time-honored way of going out. A dignified way to die. And, most importantly, it should work, even on me. âYou willing to do that for me, Jack?â Nate turned back to look at Jack. âYeah, Nate,â replied Jack solemnly, âI think I can handle that.â Nate nodded. âGood!â He turned back toward the dune and shouted, âSammy! Jackâs about ready to leave!â Then quietly, âThanks, Jack.â Jack didnât have anything to say to that, so he waited for Sammy to make it back to the lever, nodded to him, nodded a final time to Nate, and then headed into the desert with Sammy following. Over the next several years Sammy and Jack kept in touch with Nate through e-mail as they went about their adventures. They made a goal of visiting every country in the world, and did a respectable job of it. Sammy had a natural gift for languages, as Jack expected he would, and even ended up acting as a translator for Jack in a few of the countries. Jack managed to keep the talking rattlesnake hidden, even so, and by the time they were nearing the end of their tour of countries, Sammy had only been spotted a few times. While there were several people that had seen enough to startle them greatly, nobody had enough evidence to prove anything, and while a few wild rumors and storied followed Jack and Sammy around, nothing ever hit the newspapers or the public in general. When they finished the tour of countries, Jack suggested that they try some undersea diving. They did. And spelunking. They did that too. Sammy finally drew the line at visiting Antarctica. Heâd come to realize that Jack was stalling. After talking to his Dad about it over e-mail, he figured out that Jack probably didnât want to have to kill Nate. Nate told Sammy that humans could be squeamish about killing friends and acquaintances. So, Sammy eventually put his tail down (as he didnât have a foot) and told Jack that it was time - he was ready to go back and take up his duties from his dad. Jack, delayed it a little more by insisting that they go back to Japan and buy an appropriate sword. He even stretched it a little more by getting lessons in how to use the sword. But, eventually, heâd learned as much as he was likely to without dedicating his life to it, and was definitely competent enough to take the head off of a snake. It was time to head back and see Nate. When they got back to the US, Jack got the old RV out of storage where he and Sammy had left it after their tour of the fifty states, he loaded up Sammy and the sword, and they headed for the desert. When they got to the small town that Jack had been trying to find those years ago when heâd met Nate, Jack was in a funk. He didnât really feel like walking all of the way out there. Not only that, but heâd forgotten to figure the travel time correctly, and it was late afternoon. Theyâd either have to spend the night in town and walk out tomorrow, or walk in the dark. As Jack was afraid that if he waited one more night he might lose his resolve, he decided that heâd go ahead and drive the RV out there. It was only going to be this once, and Jack would go back and cover the tracks afterward. They ought to be able to make it out there by nightfall if they drove, and then they could get it over tonight. Jack told Sammy to e-mail Nate that they were coming as he drove out of sight of the town on the road. They then pulled off the road and headed out into the desert. Everything went well, until they got to the sand dunes. Jack had been nursing the RV along the whole time, over the rocks, through the creek beds, revving the engine the few times they almost got stuck. When they came to the dunes, Jack didnât really think about it, he just downshifted and headed up the first one. By the third dune, Jack started to regret that heâd decided to try driving on the sand. The RV was fishtailling and losing traction. Jack was having to work it up each dune slowly and was trying to keep from losing control each time they came over the top and slid down the other side. Sammy had come up to sit in the passenger seat, coiled up and laughing at Jackâs driving. As they came over the top of the fourth dune, the biggest one yet, Jack saw that this was the final dune - the stone, the lever, and somewhere Nate, waited below. Jack put on the brakes, but heâd gone a little too far. The RV started slipping down the other side. Jack tried turning the wheel, but he didnât have enough traction. He pumped the brakes - no response. They started sliding down the hill, faster and faster. Jack felt a shock go through him as he suddenly realized that they were heading for the lever. He looked down - the RV was directly on course for it. If Jack didnât do something, the RV would hit it. He was about to end humanity. Jack steered more frantically, trying to get traction. It still wasnât working. The dune was too steep, and the sand too loose. In a split second, Jack realized that his only chance would be once he hit the stone around the lever - he should have traction on the stone for just a second before he hit the lever - he wouldnât have time to stop, but he should be able to steer away. Jack took a better grip on the steering wheel and tried to turn the RV a little bit - every little bit would help. Heâd have to time his turn just right. The RV got to the bottom of the dune, sliding at an amazing speed in the sand. Just before they reached the stone Jack looked across it to check that they were still heading for the lever. They were. But Jack noticed something else that he hadnât seen from the top of the dune. Nate wasnât wrapped around the lever. He was off to the side of the lever, but still on the stone, waiting for them. The problem was, he was waiting on the same side of the lever that Jack had picked to steer towards to avoid the lever. The RV was already starting to drift that way a little in its mad rush across the sand and there was no way that Jack was going to be able to go around the lever to the other side. Jack had an instant of realization. He was either going to have to hit the lever, or run over Nate. He glanced over at Sammy and saw that Sammy realized the same thing. Jack took a firmer grip on the steering wheel as the RV ran up on the stone. Shouting to Sammy as he pulled the steering wheel, âBETTER NATE THAN LEVER,â he ran over the snake. THE END

rofl dood you have pplay games WAAAAY too much

noodle made me one check it out its fnin AMAZING

ah you jerk you beat me to the tut im writing! ill still write it anyways cuz its wicked big and it will help the people who honestly have no idea wtf there doing

yes, i have to copy my files to this laptop and than write an extensive walkthru so noone could POSSIBLY get screwed over or mess up or anything like that. The background is a vista type theme its bloo, with orange trim..idlk what its called and if you follow my tut perfectlyyou eill have Bejeweled Brick Cubis 2 LOST Mahjong Minigolf Ms. PAC-MAN Music Quiz Musika Pac-Man Parachute Phase Royal Solitare SAT Prep Mathematic 2008 SAT Prep Reading 2008 Solitare Sudoku Tetris Texas Hold'em The Sims Bowling The Sims Pool Zuma

dude i know its stupid but i think 400 is too much how about 350-300 because i average like 7 posts aday so its +20 days away and i dont spam if i were to id still get10-12 which is still 20 days away

waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much free time... I LOVE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

yeah eve n ho iim 5'2 id knee myself in the face everytime i hit a crack