central control contacts me in a state of panic, 'you are elusive and we cannot track you.'

oh shit, here we go, they are stern sometimes, authoritarian fuckers who think they own me. 

i'm here i say, calm and reassured. don't want to start anything.

'we have a mission for you.'

i've retired, i drone on like a automatic violet wand, my frequency has changed baby, that's why you cannot track me. i'm not resonating like i used to. what was it 500, 800 hertz?

'it was 900 + but you crashed down for about 4 months, gradually you increased and returned and now you have gone beyond, currently you are off our charts.'

yes that's where i operate these days, which is why i have retired from control and your missions.

'HA, HA!' insane laughter echos through time, inside my skull. 

i find myself in newtown in an indian vegan restaurant. very friendly young waitresses explain how the puri puri  sauce is created, coriander gives it the colour she says with a smile that is divine. everyone here seems to be spilling over with enthusiasm. it's doing my head in. i find comfort in the newtown pub where we drink a few pints of 'young henry' porter known as 'motorcycle oil', made from vegan stuff, it tastes amazing and i need a couple to bring on my hash cookie which is not as powerful as i hoped. 

later we laugh. the rest of the night is a blur. i am having a good time, being social, flirting with strangers, weaving through the flow, with my two friends, in a big city. everyone coming at me, arms interlocked, familiar strangers, sex energy flowing freely and unbounded, it's the sydney scene. 

central control seem to follow me home, silhouettes and shadows, flickering out and into the periphery. agents are strange creatures, some come at you smiling and others guns blaze. it's the female agents that they send i tend to worry about, you know, i am a gentleman, i don't like to make assumptions and judge people without giving them a chance but  females can be beguiling and i'm a sucker for the cute ones. fortunately i have good instincts and intuition. an irish lady wants me to take her home, she's cute and smells nice. she's pushy and assertive and is going in hard with all the right moves. i'm a dead man walking. part of me just wants to surrender and fall into her arms, but then there's a sound in the distance, a cycle of sounds, emergency signals. klaxtons. somehow i give her the slip, start heading home. you gotta be sharp with these types of agents. once you give them a way in,  it's the beginning of the end.

control can never catch me, i elude it with my skin up suits, with my ever changing strange faces and mutable forms. they may have unlimited resources but i have my moon powered zap gun.