'##::::'##:::'#####:::'########: VIVA LA REVOLUCION! CERDO DEL CAPITALISTA!! ##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: =========================================== ##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #308 !! #########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !! ##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: =========================================== ##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "Killing People" !! ##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Nybar !! ..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 12/6/98 !! !!========================================================================!! Hmm... since I am too lazy to think up a plot for a story right now, and even though the New Yorker said it would accept one of my essay's about how children aren't taught to think critically these days (often with the only arguement being 'That's just... your OPINION!' man... get off the grass son.) Actually, the New Yorker just sent over one of their editor's, but he said he would accept it... Um... I just made it up, if the New Yorker would accept me, why would I be writing *here*? Let's see, first of all, let me just say that Mogel and Trilobyte are both no talent hacks that get off by insulting my brilliant work. It's like... how the antichrist at the beginning of time, when God was weak -- he fucking kicked God's ass. And he's the antichrist just for that. I mean, it's probably just some soldier that was going Christian bashing. Which reminds me, did you ever hear the one about the little Christian that could? Too bad, we ate him. Heehehehehhehee. Ahh those old jokes. Where was I? Oh yeah, Trilobyte and Mogel are jerks is what I'm saying. Now, for the story, this buildup has obviously introduced all the plot characters. On a Friday afternoon in late May, a 13-year-old boy in one of my district's middle schools produced a list of people he wanted to "seriously fuck up, aka kill." Several hours later, I stood in my basement, holding the list in my left hand and a whip in the right. He was too timid, I speculated, to put the fear of anal rape into his enemies. He had instead decided to timidly sit back and make a list of people he feared. Well, I would soon be one of them. But it's called tough love, damnit! He even assured me he would never hurt anyone in self defence. He was probably threatening me at the time, because I was smacking him with a birch stick, so I just whacked him harder. Then, to test if he deserved to live, I asked him about "tulup mania". When he answered with a glassy stare, I simply gave the standard punishment of whacking him around with a rolled up "Economist". A whacking that would surely make sure nothing like Jonestown ever happened again. Then I drank some bitter's, and gave a long, hard thought about his hit list. And I decided, if someday he could make a living off of it, he was all right with me. For then: he would be a capitalist. ...the screen turns off, and Ross Perot walks in from the wings. Ross Perot: "Indeed, this isn't what is happening now. That's why you must elect, ME! (president). It's like I always say, umm..." "A child... is like a cake that you......are baking. Like cakes they should be allowed to bake slowly in the warm oven, our children too often get the heat turned up and the time cut back. On the outside they look finished. Let me tell you something..." "...man to person. He's not. On the inside, he's not. Let that child bake! Which kinda reminds me, I left a cake in the oven..." The Epilogue ============ Yeah! And then a fucking anvil fell on his head!#% By the way, please note that I wrote this a couple of years ago... oh yeah, I think some pothead put a baby in the oven after watching this. !!========================================================================!! !! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! #308 - WRITTEN BY: NYBAR - 12/6/98 !!