Carl Winslow's Corner: Vision Quest

Hey gang! It's your old friend and comrade, Carl Winslow, back for more amazing adventures inside my vortex of throbbing misery.



Native Americans have strong traditions regarding vision quests. Wandering about the forest in a drug-induced, dehydrated state forces you to confront your innermost fears. And if you are strong enough, you will summon the courage to conquer those horrors, proving your worthiness to the tribe.

That's all well and good for them, but how's old Carl gonna get in on that action? If they get respect from the community by going insane, why can't I? I knew the answer as soon as I posed it to my brain box, my friends... I must get high on exhaust fumes to prove my worth, Injun-style.




Oh, goodness! What a world it has opened up, my children. I've been delirious and unstable for years, but this puts the frosting on the coffin. Fumes have given me powers. I wander the sewers, talking to rats. I give them milk in exchange for their secrets. Now I know where all the best garbage is.



I can control birds with various amulets. My arms play the drums while my legs play soccer. I can write a thank you card to a sailor while stabbing him in the arm-pit with a sharpened paper towel! Multiple tasks, infinite possibilities, and I'm never gonna ever gonna be stuck inside an igloo ever again. Dinosaur sex!



My vision quest has just begun. I must fly away to distant lands and procure meat from the elder owls. Wish me luck on my journey.
Hoooooooooo!