(This was originally located at "http://www.hydr0gen.f2s.com/olneymice.html", I did not write it, I'm just archiving it here) --------------------------------------------- Dr. O and his Lonely Mice, An Investigation --------------------------------------------- Q: Did the dxm cause lesions in the mice brains? A: In a word, yes. The lesions were "surely there" according to an eye witness. The bystander said, "well shit, this guy who called himself Dr. O, pulled me in off the street and asked me to look at these microscope slides with slices of mice brain cells. What i saw was dark "pits" in the mice brain cells and what could be described as bad lookin brains." He further added, "it didn't look good to me, not too good at all, but Dr. O scared me. That crazy ass fucker was slicing up mice brains like a japanese chef, I backed out of his lab slowly and then when he turned around I bolted for the door." Q: Did the mice enjoy the parts of their brains that it ate away? A: "You bet your ass they did!" The mice to which this affected were quoted as saying they just "couldn't like, think clearly any more", and even the "simplest of tasks (i.e. getting to the cheese at the end of the maze, or ringing a bell) were nearly impossible" and not deemed by the mice to be "worthwhile" anymore. One assistant said that the "mice just seemed to lose all interest in the goings on in and around the lab, period." The mice apparently lost the part of their brain that made them desire to dance...this is very ironic, since dxm usually provokes dance and slappy movement. The mice also lost their will to live, but according to the lab "this had nothing to do with being locked up in a cage and subjected to ungodly anesthetic doses of dxm." The mice lost the ability to go "peep" and "meeep" and other tiny voice mouse sounds. This produced "lab wide mouse panic" among the elders; the younger mice improvised with hand signals and eye blinks to communicate. One of the mice that i interviewed said that he wishes "the lab assistant had been more careful with those damn' packets." In his words "the dxm would have been ok some of the time but after that long", the mouse recalled, "i frankly lost interest in the dissociative qualities." The mouse continued, "...the dxm lost its fun and they kept feeding it to us...you ask why did i continue to eat it? well shit i am a friggin mouse what'd you expect." Another mouse complained of headaches for months in advance (prior to the lesions), and the lab assistants would not respond. They were in his words, "obsessed with trying to destroy my brain, piece by piece!" "I mean shit, the dxm was pretty cool at first" replied "Mike the mouse" from Iowa. "We thought this would be a pretty cool gig at first, all of us did, I mean shit really, it beat them god forsaken mazes that they had us running through. A mouse friend of mine was so brainwashed by that damn bell they would ring, that if he heard anything close to a bell it was off to the races for him, he'd go mid sentence into a running fit, looking for a Ping-Pong ball to dunk into a small mouse basketball goal, pretty sad, so anyway that's why I was excited to try something new, to get away from the bells." Mike the mouse continues, "I can remember the first day I got to Dr. O's lab, he was very friendly and personable and administered our moderate doses with love and care and a smile. The trips back then were just flat out fun. The dextromethorphan made our little running wheels and tunnel systems pretty fucking fun, at times i felt like a hamster, or a gerbil, ah those were fun times. We saw some wacky ass shit, retro shit, fucking disco baby. One time I woke up in a rat bitches lap, she was pretty nice, but it felt like we were on the moon for a while, and it seemed the mice and i were going to take over the lab, other nights it would be like our own dissociated dance party." But little did they know there happy "hamster times" were about to turn into their own personal hamster hell. Around the corner were higher and higher doses, some mice came and others disappeared without word, there was speculation amongst the mice. The elders were getting worried. A rat's take on an early dissociative experience: "as rats we're pretty used to being dissociated, at least in some sense, well with us living in the sewers and all, but damn this was getting silly. Once on a high level trip my own cage was speaking to me and spitting at me, it jumped up and slapped the ceiling, hard, and then it proceeded to turn inside out, then outside in, this is a cage folks, cages ain't supposed to act like that, at least not where i come from. I am a rat for crying out loud but i ain't fucking stupid, cages are not animate objects, but this nite mine was hopping al around the lab, i was worried, where was MOSHA?" The leader of the Bureau of MCALT (Mice Coalition Against Lab Testing) could not be reached for comment. But a representative told us that these people were just "sick and demented. They don't give a damn about the mice, they tend to read too many books and loose the big picture, mice are smooth operators and great jazzers." "Yeah, they fried them sumsabitches" said one lab tech. "I told that bastard he better slow down on the packets but he wouldn't listen, it was like he was possessed or something, in a trance, between you and I, I think Dr. O himself was slipping down a few packets himself. At one point I knew this man must be stopped...So late one night and I went over to him and put my hand on his shoulder and said Dr. O, lets go home, man, lets just go on home now, the mice cheered." When contacted for comment Dr. O was unavailable but I did speak with his secretary, and what she had to say was fucking startling: "Dr O was spiraling out of control, he would make the little mice eat dxm until they were unconscious, he had bowls full of that stuff, fucking 30 gallon buckets, we're talking barrels of this shit here. And the cages, the mice were restless, so much so that one day i decided to try to free the mice so I unlatched their cages, but they would just sit in a corner and peep quietly. Boy I caught hell from Dr. O for this, he beat me unmercifully for what seemed like hours, and after that he didn't say a got am word to me, not a got am one." Dr. O was a shady character indeed, but it was reported that he did in fact have a guilty conscience, maybe even remorse. "Yeah he would often walk around the lab and we would see him swatting into the air, like he was swatting off flies or bugs or something, but there would be no bugs. Some of the lab assistants and I had a bet that he was trying to swat off the guilt but could never hit it." Indeed Dr. O had started something here, what started off as a mere lab test had turned into an obsession. Some days he would come into the lab and just pour the dextromethorphan directly into the cages, carelessly missing the feeding dish with no concern. Bread Walker remarked, "At times we would get to the lab and see dead mice smothered in powder, cages half full of dxm, mice completely buried." Buried? that's an anesthetic dose i'd say, that's not too scientific. "Boy the other mice were pissed! You could see their cold black eyes filled with utter rage, they would scream or actually squeak DAMN YOU! everytime we clocked in or out. It got to the point where I dreading coming to work just because of the fear of a mouse revolt. I mean a couple of the guys and I feared for our lives. They were throwing shit at us. I mean you really gotta see a bunch of dissociated mice when they're pissed off, my friend it's not a very pretty sight." Cleverly one day one of the lab helpers, an intern from the University of Figtree tried to pull a little switch-a-roo. "I was dusting off the lab counters and about to turn off the lights and leave for the day, when I had an idea. At this point in the experiment the mice could have still kept some sanity, so I went into the kitchen and poured the dxm into zip lock bags, then i filled the dxm containers with sweet n low. The next morning when I got to work, Dr. O called me into his office, it seems several workers used the dxm for coffee sweetener that morning. Damn I was fired and kicked in the face by that rat bastard. Don't let that degree fool you he's a fucking nut." Thomas McFatman was in charge of bringing the good mice and removing the bad mice. "There really are no bad mice, I think there are just dumb ass mice, those are the ones that lasted the longest." We were having a hard time hiding the dead mice from the live ones, till finally it got to the point where we just had no more live ones at all. Heh, oops, heh, I guess science has a price." Yes it does, I think we now are starting to understand just how high that price tag was. As testing had come to a close, it was reported that dextromethorphan does cause lesions in mice when used for a prolonged period of time at anesthetic doses. But at a not so mice price. I spoke with one last mouse about his thoughts on mice and where they are heading: "What do I think personally as a mouse about mice? oh, we'll be back, that fucker will be sorry he messed with us, I promise you that.", one ex-lab mouse furied. "Some of us did escape in the early experiments, some did not god rest their souls, but those who did will not soon forget the careless disregard of Dr. O." And certainly this reporter does not want to be around when the shit hits the fan, I have seen enough pissed mice for one day.