You may have heard about Dimension X.

Well, a lesser-known and far scarier place is Dimension "Zed." Dimension X is a tame suburb of dimension Zed, as far as dimensions go. Populated largely by sentient vines, the Wendigo, shambling 60-foot tall piles of hair (Yarmouths), and midgets with exoskeletons and green blood (1), Dimension Zed was discovered by Action Squad members Joe Rebel and Max Action several years ago when they discovered a pocket of dimensional cross-over in an innocuous patch of forest between Burnsville and Prior Lake. (This is also where the "Hole in the Ground in the Woods" was located, for those of you who have been reading this site from the beginning.) Only oodles of luck and their amazing ability to survive under the most ludicrously dangerous and unexpected circumstances allowed them to escape this initial interdimensional journey, and begin a lifetime of research into Dimension Zed.

Years after that discovery, but still years ago, we discovered another tear in the fabric of reality itself where a bit of Dimension Zed slipped into our world. The "Bridge to Dimension Zed" is seen by thousands of people every day, but, testifying to its power, actually noticed by almost none. Skulking above I-94 just west of Snelling Avenue in Saint Paul, this mockery of all things sane and rational strikes the casual passer-beneath as a standard bridge of concrete and metal. Closer examination (which we do not recommend, as there is an established detrimental effect on one's mental health and sexual vigor resulting from such study), however, reveals that this is not the case.

Even from the road at 65 miles an hour, it is obvious that this is no ordinary bridge. For starters, it emerges from a blank cement wall, and there is every sign that this has been so since it first existed. Secondly, it goes across the highway and into a blank metal wall (the side of a nearby railroad bridge). Further examination reveals that the guard railings on either side of the bridge are only a couple of feet high … not coincidentally, they would only be useful to someone the height of a carnivorous green-blooded midget from another dimension.

For years, we recognized this construction for what it was: a portal from and possibly to Dimension Zed. However, our every attempt to locate the Bridge from anywhere but the highway below proved completely futile. Clearly, something, somehow, was preventing us from conducting in-depth exploration. It seemed that further research into this ominous phenomenon was impossible, and our efforts came to a standstill.

Two vital occurrences needed to take place before anyone was able to conquer the Bridge. First was the formal formation of Action Squad. Second was the ingestion of 48 fluid ounces of Super America cappuccino by both Agent Wop and Max Action one unseasonably warm night in January of 2003. We set off toward the East from Minneapolis at 10 PM, with troubled minds, knowing that we might never see our loved ones or dimension again.

On I-94, we felt an almost electrical charge building as we drew nearer the Bridge. At the moment we drove beneath it, the radio turned itself on and began playing R.E.M.'s "It's the End of the World As We Know It" at ear-splitting levels, the tint vanished from the car windows, and the reservoir of windshield-washing fluid turned to blood.

Our wills unbowed, we pressed on in our quest for access to the mysterious Bridge. Fortunately, years of training and experience from Action Squadding, in conjunction with the biochemical and psychic-vibrational effects of massive doses of gas station coffee, proved adequate to overcome the mind-clouding effects of the Bridge. This time, we found it with minimal trouble.

Several pointy chain-link fences and a swamp later, the two of us stood on the brink of forever and never, the Bridge stretching out before us, directly into the thick steel wall of the railroad bridge.

Waiting until no cars were approaching, we scaled a final fence and dropped down onto the bridge itself. Moving in a commando-crawl, we crossed the highway without incident and arrived at the imposing steel barrier on the other side. Interestingly, although the railings stopped at this point, the concrete platform of the bridge continued beneath the railroad bridge, leaving a space ideal for a sentient vine to slither along.

There were no sentient vines crossing at the moment, however, so we altered our mode of locomotion from "crawl" to "slither" and continued across the lunacy of a bridge, below the railroad bridge and above the westbound lanes of I-94. Once clear of the other side of the railroad bridge, the Bridge Itself terminated by running smack into a cement wall, just as it had on the south side of the highway.

We took readings with the little blinky-light things that the Ghostbusters also used, pissed in some bushes, hid from a passing evil wizard, and then doubled back for the return trek. Unbeknownst to me, Agent Wop had made a fateful decision. At least, I hope he chose freely, and had not been hypnotized by the murderous siren song of Dimension Zed. As we approached the blank cement wall of the south side, he broke into a run. I assumed he was going to take a running leap and scale to the top and back into saner realms.

I was wrong.

Instead, he ran unflinchingly into the cement wall itself. There was a dark flash of light and a screeching silence, and he vanished into the wall.

The brave, courageous, daring, foolish, stupid, dumb, insane, nutso, maniacal lionheart idiot maniac had crossed over … from our Dimension, and into Zed.

Zed, where the laws of time and space do not apply. Where the Wendigo roams and your hair turns white afresh each morning when you open your eyes and see your surroundings. Where the concepts who, what, where, when and why are interchangeable. Zed ...where no man has ever gone before and lived to tell the tale.

I returned to Minneapolis alone, with a heavy, troubled heart and heavy, troubled bowels. As I passed westward beneath the Bridge to Zed, I swear that I saw a crusty little midget peeking over at me and giving me the finger, laughing.

As of this writing, Agent Wop has not returned from this lunatic adventure. I fear that he is gone forever.

Let this dark tale be a tribute to our fallen comrade, as well as a warning to all who read it. The moral of the story is this: stay away from Dimension Zed, because it will kill you and being dead is a bad thing to be stayed away from.

* Footnote 1: Some researchers contend that former St. Paul Mayor and current U.S. Senator Norm Coleman (R-MN) crossed over from Dimension Zed, using the Bridge. While this hypothesis seems quite well-supported by available physical evidence, spokesbeings from Zed angrily deny this charge as "insulting and inaccurate."