'##::::'##:::'#####:::'########: VIVA LA REVOLUCION! CERDO DEL CAPITALISTA!! ##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: =========================================== ##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #301 !! #########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !! ##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: =========================================== ##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "The BIG-ASS Story" !! ##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Various Artists !! ..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 12/3/98 !! !!========================================================================!! Each writer was restricted to 5 sentences. [Mogel] "I hope... you got fat," Lady Lamina wrote, before she stopped, thought for a moment, and then tore the letter to shreds. Why couldn't she adopt that peaceful mentality that her poor, jailed mother had embraced, and write to the IRS without getting completely infuriated? Lady Lamina, of course, had never successfully been able to kill herself, and has been forced to deal with some form of tax collection for the last 759 years of her miserable life. It tortured her a great deal, but there was nothing she could do about the problem -- she simply would not die. She had tried everything! [tRiL0byTe] The last time she left her whorehouse, her home, three weeks ago, she had applied to her face and body every last atom of makeup in her possession. Men everywhere were pouncing upon her ancient body and they clawed and grabbed for all of her extremely developed assets. But, damned as Lady Lamina was, none of them would take her miserable, endless life! But this night, as she flushed out her vagina with her favorite bidet, she felt alone and depressed. Were her financial woes truly all she had to live for these days? [g0ff] Of course, there was one other thing. Once, she had had a cat, and it had kept her happy in times of need. Unfortunately, no cat lives over seven hundred years, even those as full of fortitude as Muffin was. But he had died, like everyone else she had ever had any closeness with. There was another choice to consider, though, and that was finding a new cat to be a part of her life. [anJee] Lady Lamina quickly paced through the streets, trying her best to hop over the various dead bodies and attempting to dodge the freaks and weirdos who always seemed to pop up in front of her. However, unlike the last 759 years of her life, something different happened, throwing her daily routine off-course and disrupting what she had always referred to as her "pathetic excuse for a life". Not only had Lady Lamina found herself spread out on the pavement with a few scratches scattered along her body -- there, resting in front of her yellow and purple colored eyes -- was a rock... and for the first time in centuries, a smile drew itself onto her face, as she grabbed the rock and firmly held it in her hands. When she arrived at home later that day, she sat down and analyzed the rock... trying to make it talk, but it just wouldnt reply. She decided it would now be her mission to successfully help the rock discard it's shyness hoping it would then lead to a very intelligent and educational discussion. [DJ Hoad] Lady Lamina tried for several weeks to rid the rock of it's shyness. It, being a rock, really had no idea why this woman was shaking and screaming at it. Severely confused, the rock decided enough was enough. Lady Lamina gaped as the rock stood firm and gazed her straight in the eye. The rock said the first thing that came to its mind, "Eat blue." [Styx] Then the rock said the second thing that came to its mind: "Poop." Lady Lamina was transfixed and followed up on the rock's commands, first eating her blue suede shoes, all of the blue M&Ms in the cupboard, her blue shirts and blue pants, her blue bedspread and blue tampons, her ceramic blue figurines and all of the blueberry pie. Then, recalling the rock's second command, she pulled down her lace panties, squatted over a fruitbowl, and muscled out a long blue link from her colon. The rock shook its head, looking up at her with disdain. "You misunderstand, Lady Lamina - I said to eat blue poop." [Toasty] "But umm... ummm...," ummed Lady Lamina. "I am not coprophilic!" she shrieked, having finally grabbed onto the high school Sex Education 4 vocabulary word she knew still lurked somewhere in her longterm memory. She then got caught in a reflective mental tangent, remembering those classes she took so long ago. How could the public school system expect to NOT turn out filthy skanky whores like herself when they offered honors sex ed classes? She stopped pooing and wept for the youth of America. [Kreid] The tragedies of the day... talking rocks, blue poo, and the constant bleeding from her ears... had driven Lady Lamina into a terrible fit of depression. And yet, through all the blood and tears, Lady Lamina experienced a brief moment of clarity; she knew exactly what she had to do. With the sureness of a woman who has seen God, pissed on his shoes, and run away with his wallet, she pulled her trusty hangun from her brassiere, glancing momentarily at the scars on her chest she had received while being raped by knife-wielding mongols at Ghengis Khan's 25th birthday party. Then, moments later, while she was still pondering this old memory, she was moaning in ecstasy from the sensation of the handgun entering her vagina, centuries old, wrinkled, and encrusted with chlamydic discharge. That ecstasy was a feeling she had not felt in at least 4 months, and somehow, there was still something wonderful in it, something magic, even after so many hundreds of years... but those thoughts had to be pushed back into her mind as she gripped the trigger tighter... tighter... tighter... [AltRocks] "POP," the gun sounded as it exploded gallons of warm water into her now satisfied genitals, seeing as it was a Super-Soaker 2453462136 left over from the late 20th century water wars, which she had missed, being captured by the HOE Freedom Fighters in their last futile attempt to overthrow the Venezuelan revolutionaries (they made me write that) while trying to assist her sympathetic friends selling cocaine on the streets of the capital of Venezuela, which kept her cash flow quite ample, and aided HOE in it's attempt to rid it's writer's of a life. After tossing her water gun in the gutter she started down the street, looking for her next adventure, but she would have no more adventures, because at that moment, AltRocks arose from the dead and killed the bitch. He then took over working the whore house, turned it into the biggest prostitution ring in the history of the world, making him the grand funk daddy of all pimps. He then remembered his old friend, Ziego, whome he had a bone to pick with, but Ziego had died years earlier, and being a simple mortal, could not rise from the dead, as he did, so he settled for a Playstation, and a copy of Mortal Kombat MCMXVII, which was quite amazing, cause mortal Kombat got old in 1994. He then began to think about all the good he could do, but decided it wasn't worth it and turned abck to the evil ways that spawned him, the evil ways that made him powerful, the evil ways that brought him back from the dead, and the evil ways that would fuel his new plan for the world.... [Kaia] I guess happiness really is a warm gun, because at that point, drunk on her naughty rollicking fantasy, Lady Lamina's entire body quaked with the wild spasms of ecstasy, sending glistening jets of organic secretions, cottage cheese juice, and yellow-pink pus spraying from every orifice and pore. As Lady Lamina rolled over, crushing the colonies of lice thriving in her bearskin carpet, she thought of her son Basal and vowed to masturbate more often, then drifted off into her favorite dreamland, Billybob's Big Universe of Firearms and Roosters. Basal, responding to his mother's psychic calling, would have come to lick up the mess, had he not been consumed earlier that day by the rock. So instead, the rock came bopping in, dressed like Axl Rose, singing Viking drinking songs and doing the chicken dance, but for the first time, it felt a funny, as yet unidentified feeling in the pit of its sediment. Could it be love? [Tasha] Just as soon as the thought had come, the rock quickly dismissed the feeling as heartburn from the consumption of Basal earlier in the day. He then rolled over to the wet spot left on the carpet by Lady Lamina, and swirled his tongue over the entire area, pausing a few times to pick the shedded pubic hair out of his teeth. Lady Lamina, still squirming from the afterquakes of her orgasm, grabbed the rock and slowly slid him all the way inside of her slippery, wrinkled cunt. The rock, a little pissed that he didn't get to finish the dinner that had been left for him on the carpet, began licking Lady Lamina's secretions from his position inside of her cunt. This, of course, sent Lady Lamina into another violent orgasm, and the poor rock died in a flood of the orgasmic secretions he had caused. [SwissPope] The rock promptly plopped out of Lady Lamina's vagina. Exhausted, Lady Lamina pulled up her pants, lit up a cigarette, and got out the vacuum cleaner. She glided the vacuum cleaner over the dirty carpet, twirling like Mary Poppins, while adult contemporary music from the radio soothed her soul. When the vacuum cleaner rolled over the rock, there was a sudden hiss, then a terrible booming noise, and black smoke emerged. After racing to her filing cabinet, Lady Lamina examined the General Electric vacuum cleaner's warranty and discovered that it had been voided due to a very tiny clause that cleared stated "A.2.(iii) This vacuum cleaner shall not be exposed to granite, pumice, basalt, obsidian, nor any other igneous, metamorphic, or sedimentary rock exposed to the fluids secreted from the vagina, penis, or anus unless an industrial or medical use permit has been granted and arrangements for radioactive hazardous waste disposal have been made." [phairgirl] It was right about then when, oh wait a second, it wasn't right about then, it was right about.... NOW... when Lady Lamina heard a knock at the door. Although usually when her sexual gratification had just completed its home stretch and the vacuuming needed to be done she wouldn't have answered it, but today, she decided to forgo ancient customs and cry "Carpe Diem!" as she raced toward the towering doorway. Flinging the door aside, she gasped as 232 FBI agents gazed out of sheer horror at her appearance. If only she had known that her beloved rock was somehow mixed up in the Mafia and that there was a $100,000 contract out on his head due to the immense amount of pain and heartache he had caused Don Benito. Staring wearily at the now-sickened agents, Lady Lamina's thoughts raced to think of some kind of halfway believable story to explain why their prime suspect in the cannibalistic murders of 8000 tons of sheetrock wouldn't be available for prosecution. [Quarex] Fortunately for Lady Lamina, she re-read the script to the story, and discovered that all previous mentions of her own sexuality were placed in error, and should have been instead been references entirely to her own blase existence, completely free of sex (and proud of it!) for the last (almost!) 760 years. Her rock, however, was another story, as it was still very much so dead, but not from any kind of moronic sexual encounter! This rock was not about to accept any kind of roody-poo crap from any of the jabronies writing this story, no sir, the rock took his own damn life by jumping right out of this damn text file. As for Lady Lamina, who has come so far by being an inept piece of fuck, there was only one thing left for her to do: strut. Once she was through strutting, and still realized she was quite fucking alive, Lady Lamina decided to resort to the most drastic measure of suicide, a measure so drastic that its very name is only whispered in certain arcane circles, made up entirely of grand wizards so foul that nary a mortal can behold them without screaming in fright, aye, indeed, the bedeviled method of suicide known only as INDIE ROCK. [Teerts] completely determined to meet her maker, our good lady made off for the closest university; there, at one of the prime sources of shitty igneous musik, she'd find her end. the fedz, so sickened by her appearance, just stood by barely controlling their urge to vomit (it was right after lunch after all, i mean, have you ever SEEEN this woman? ugh!), as the ancient foundation, mascara, blush, and lipstick-soaked wench (who had begun strutting once more) passed right through the mass of agents. having tripped in a 16ft deep pot-hole in her 60000ft long driveway (about 43253ft from her house), lady lamina was very lucky that she had switched to low-heel shoes back 709 years ago (you know, the standard age at which old tarts stop wearing heels), otherwise she could really have been hurt by the accident. she then picked up her broken leg and placed it gingerly in the 'fifth pocket' of her levi 50000009's and continued to furiously hop away from the scene; still heading straight (right through traffic, not giving a shit...she's tried cars before) for her closest university, isuckshit liberal arts institute. end in phuct phunnetix; wile hedding four her destinashun, shie bekaim distraktid (well, she remembered she had founded the same university she was headed for and that she had disallowed all music programs in the school), sow she dessidid too stop trinkit stour annd halfe a loock at som naiss laan (ga-)nomes! [Aster] but these gaa-nomes are evil and they killed her and cut her up into little tiny pieces and ate a nice big lunch of lady-pieces, which they REALLY enjoyed, since she was ripened with age and all. but little did they know she was really a poisenous snake who all her life had been planning to get back at them for killing her mother and father when she was three, so they all died of this deadly deadly yucky evil poison. except one gaa-nome, a so evil it could not be killed gaa-nome, a gaa-nome that proceded to open his mouth and devour the world, until there was only the island of Bali left. then he decided he needed a vaction, you know all that hard work of devouring worlds can make you very vaction-needing, so he went and sat on a beach on Bali's shore, where he met some nice island people who kept him happy, untill he got sunburned and shrivled up and fried to death in the sun, leaving only ashes. then one island person came up and used the ashes to light a fire, which made him evil too. [AnonGirl] This Nouveau-Mauvais island person, Rhicksho, gazed into the Evil Fire with great malevolence towards his surroundings. He then glared at the fellow Island People, and decided that he was the new ruler of Bali, and if someone disobeyed him they would be forced to deal with some serious ramifications. Bali, which was once a sunny happy place that spread the word of only Peace and Love, was now an island of corruption, with sick displays of wickedness where ever one looked: crime, cruelty, and worst of all, Mentos commercials on giant screens as far as the eye could see. Still not satisfied with his complete control over the world now called Rhickshonia, King Rhicksho decided to have some fun and try his hand at killing innocent newborn babies by batting their heads off with coconut shells attached to dried palm tree leaves and seeing how far he could hit one, trying to beat his own record each time. While batting a young Rhickshonian skull far into the sky, the newborn cranium stopped in mid-air, completely changed direction, and began flying directly towards a stunned Rhicksho, with a look of death on its cute little face. [Obsidian] Transcending both the age-old perception of time and space and the need to cook food in chinese woks, Rhicksho quickly burroughed deep into the ground, catching the smiling death missile in mid flight. Finally reaching an ancient cavern filled with a shrine to Front 242, Rhicksho looked around, attempting to gain awareness of his surroundings. Looking over in the corner, he noticed a woman bearing resemblence to Lady Lamina sitting indian-style, smoking a clove cigarette with a glow of enlightenment on her face. Feeling the warmth of her zen, he moved towards the corner of the room. She turned slowly towards him and began speaking in a stage whisper, "Excuse me, your fly is unzipped." [Cstone] Rhicksho, quickly but conspicuously zipping up his pants, craftily retorted, "Huh?" The Lamina-woman, casting a weird glance toward Rhicksho, said, "Your fly was down, moron; you dumb powermongers can take over a bunch of innocent people, but can you design an intelligent pair of pants? Of COURSE not!" She threw her cigarette into a stray pile of dirt and stood up, showing off her pants to Rhicksho. Rhicksho, while trying to decide whether or not he would make this arrogant bitch scream, "MY PANTS SUCK!" before he killed her, stood with his mouth open. The woman, continuing her use of one of her weird glances, screamed instead, "YOUR PANTS SUCK!" [Mutter] It was then that Rhicksho realized that he wasn't wearing pants (as he had outlawed the wearing of pants a day earlier). "What the fuck are you talking about, you stinkin whore?!" Rhicksho screamed as he signalled his evil albino midget sidekick, poo-pee-doo to attack Lamina. Poo-pee-doo, armed with the magical feces of Rah! quickly defeated the old woman. "Do you yield, hag? Or do you want another taste of my poo-pee-doo?!@#" Apon hearing Rhicksho say this both couldn't help but burst out in laughter which made the albino midget (who was already oversensitive about his name to begin with) VERY mad... [Squinky] Somewhere, across the ocean, through time, near the Swiss Alps, a young Adolf Hitler, aged 11, plays with his wooden truck by a lake. The wheels roll over the earth like feet crushing grapes, and in his heart, he knows true love, free from lust and taint. Mussolini, too, is young, but sees promise is a new art movement called Futurism, which seems to embrace much the same that he does, and for that he is willing to overlook certain eccentricites, the rumored homosexaulity that comes with all artists, absinthe and opiate dreams. The Emperor Hirohito, fresh off the strange mists, looks across Tokio, not yet fully conquered by capitalism and overpopulation, and questions his own godhood, knowing that he can't be everywhere at once, or even really any single place forever. Oh yeah, and there's some shit going on about some bitch who's named Lady Lamina and is immortal and wants to die and has a rock. [Mooer] when lady lamina remembered that her real name was TRUDY, she began to eat the apple pies which she had baked with her own hardened hands. hands not toughened by sex, penises, juices or gratification, they were calling her to wrap them in saran wrap so she could moisturize them with the bottles and oodles of pig fat. but even oprah couldn't sell those lotions. NO POOP NO SEX NO STUPID REFERENCES, just the longing she had for her lover, her true life was what motivated her to get up every morning. nothing was true. [Belial] as time went on, trudy realized that she would never see her lover again and that even she would eventually die, bringing both her charmed and cursed life to an end. would it make a difference, though? would she be remembered? with this in mind, trudy packed up all of the possessions she had, including a tiny crystal unicorn, and left the village that had been her home for so many years. smiling, and with no destination in mind, trudy set out on an adventure that would, for good or for bad, define who she was -- lets the gods do what they want with her, she was beyond caring. [Mercuri] she set out for the land of kraglich, prophecised by her deceased soothsayer uncle to be the land of oppurtunity. with only the clothes on her back and an incredibly dildo-like crystal unicorn (which made the townspeople wonder [and jesus cry]) she set out to make a new name for herself, she would construct it out of wood and boogers. she labored for many days and for many nights, she cut down the mighty fir trees of the forest to carve and mold her new name. when she was down the whole town stood in awe of what she had created, a new name for herself (made out of wood). that name was Duncan Pinderhuse. [PezMonkey] And that very name, while now her name, was also a house, a small house, but a house all the same, hollowed out of large log and booger letters. Duncan climed into her Duncan house and found that someone had already stocked it with shelves and shelves of books, the first of which she pulled down was Thoreau's Civil Disobedience and Walden. The second was Rural Radicals by Catherine Stock. After reading these two books (which took her about 6 years since all she had learned in school was sex-ed, even though she had remained devoutly pure since that time), she erected a fence around the perimeter of her property, stocked up on guns, ammunition, and honey buns, and called the rock (who wasn't really dead), Rhicksho, Basal (her un-dead son), Hitler, Mussolini, The Emperor Hirohito, Snoop Doggy Dogg, and The Notorious B.I.G., and invited them all over. Once there, they declared to have formed The Kraglich Militia, and began shooting through the fence at the surrounding gnomes, people, animals and other creatures. [Pagenwait] Meanwhile... the IRS people were having a pleasant day... that is... they were until they got a letter in the mail. It looked as if it had been torn apart, then taped back together again and it read, "I hope... you got fat." The IRS people were offended by this note, and, being the most intelligent people in the world (they had to take a mensa test in order to become an IRS person), found out that it had been sent by a Lady Lemina. Upon looking up her account, they learned she was over 700 years old, had died, mysteriously came back to life, had an affair with a wanted criminal, The Rock (you smell what the rock's cooking? smells like old ladies cunt juices...), had renounced the throne of England, turned into a snake, poisoned the sacred gaa-nomes, and changed her name a few times. Unable to now locate her, dead or alive, they shrugged it off saying, "It's all good." [Murmur] Unfortunately, the poor, innocent, shepherded minds of the youth of the world were quite incapable of understanding what the fuck anybody was really talking about this entire time. Should such words reach a theoretical time capsule, the theoretical descendants of these people would know very little about their famed ancestors except for the following: they were primarily concerned with oneupmanship, they had very little concept of what was truly funny and what was really just horrendously stupid, few of them had mastered their studies in obscurity (and consequently were banished to hell for failing to learn how to use their damn apostrophes), and the leader of the entire civilization was apparently a "Quarex", though little further information could be gleaned about this individual, excluding subsequent discovery of cranial X-rays. He does certainly have a large head. The menagerie of faux-clinquant verbiage represented reprehensibly herein is most profoundly summarized by employing an objective observation of the songcraft of one Mr. Ron House, who thus spake in the twentieth century: "You can't kill stupid." Throughout the annals of history, indeed, few events could possibly be related that have been demonstrated to have approached the sheer pointlessness, the utter imbroglio of putridity, the festering maelstrom of imbalanced, non-linear, scathingly and scandalously inept written discourse - with the possible exception of the ubiquitous zen master himself, F. A. Hayek, in his epochal coming-of-nether-age pseudo-soliloquy-unto-presumed- -tranquillity and all-around saucy document of dilapidated dogma, _The Road To Serfdom_ - and in the end we judges of humanity are left holding a bloody shirt, a reminder neither of the sacrifices to preserve our way of life nor of the fork in our metaphorical hearts, but merely a fragment of what may once have been considered to be all that was good and proper in this changing world, and to that, may we decry, along with our proper heroes of yesteryore, these simple words: "deth is a four-letter word." [Quarex] "Now you have to keep one thing in mind," croaked Old Man Wrathbucket, "anything you hear a-comin' from the mouth o' that ornery bastard Murmur is complete pigshit, nothin' but a bunch o' high-falutin' fancy-boy Ohio ed-u-cated college bullcrap!" With that, Wrathbucket exploded, causing a chain reaction, setting off the rather timely demises of Lady Lamina's jailed mother, Lady Lamina's useless cat, AltRocks (again, good riddance), Aster, Rhicksho, Basal, Hitler, Mussolini, Emporer Hirohito, Snoop Doggy Dogg, Notorious B.I.G., and most importantly Aster and her fucking gaa-nomes. "I suppose that is just about that," mused Lady Lamina, no-selling the Stunner as usual. "How did I get into this useless mess, again? Oh, yeah, my own impossible to reach death. . . actually, now that I think about it, since almost everyone is dead now, I bet I do not even have to pay my taxes anymore, let alone really need to worry about killing myself." And with a wink and a smile, Lady Lamina shot back up the chimney, ready to begin a new life, to protect the future generations of Terakhians from the menace known as a "Mini E-ZINE EPIC." :) :) :) :) :) :) !!========================================================================!! !! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! #301 - WRITTEN BY V. ARTISTS - 12/3/98 !!