233 lines
6.5 KiB
Plaintext
233 lines
6.5 KiB
Plaintext
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### ###
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### ###
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### #### ### ### ### ####
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### ### ##### ### ###
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### ### ### ### ###
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### ### ##### ### ###
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########## ### ### ##########
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### ###
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### ###
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Underground eXperts United
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Presents...
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####### ## ## ####### # # ## ## ####### #######
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## ## ## ## ##### ## ## # ## ##
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#### ## ## #### # # ####### #### ##
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## ## ## ## ##### ## # ## ##
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## ## ####### ####### # # ## ####### ##
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[ What Happened After ] [ By James M Ramone ]
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____________________________________________________________________
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____________________________________________________________________
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What Happened After.
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James Michael Ramone
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mcintosw@cadvision.com
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XIII.
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It was all grainy and celluloid, the ocean, I was o'er the sea holding it
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all in. They kept tapping me, kicking me, trying to fuck up my high. I
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dressed in black the next day, a hepcat in mourning for some kinda lost soul
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feeling.
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Slim pretty girl, dark as sin, smiles into the phone. Twists two black roses
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around her fingers:
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-Hello, honey.
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Truth, lost in some silver moment, she smiles like a cat:
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-How are you?
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Thorns cutting, dark, dark, blood falling from her fingers:
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-Uh-huh. . .
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Black-red on the receiver. . .
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I walk in:
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-Can I buy you a drink?
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She eyes me up and down, licks her lips and purrs.
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-Uh-huh.
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I have a rum and coke. The Lady has a scotch on the rocks. I chat her up.
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I ramble on, tales of sex & woe & friendship, she goes all kittenish, laps
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up the scotch. I'm seeing myself in her dark eyes, she makes a sound in
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the back of her throat. I ask her her name &
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she just smiles so
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I tell her mine &
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she shivers so honey-sweet, sucks a drop of scotch off the end of her
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finger.
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I smile that
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special
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smile, a kid wails on in the background.
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Touch her hand (brush it really) for a ghost of a moment, it's warm, so warm
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& inviting. . .
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I'm holding up, holed up with that
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damned changeling
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Robespierre, he says:
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-Mon Dieu, my friend, t'ere's a uge space in your eart. . .
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I snarl.
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-No need to amplify, my friend. J'comprende.
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His wig slips an inch up his forehead. He pats it back in place.
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-Mon Dieu!
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Sade cracks his back with a cat o' nine.
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Crack!
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Crack!
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Robespierre begins in time:
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-You are not
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(Crack)
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aware of your
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(Crack)
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situation
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(Crack)
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ere.
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(Crack)
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y'see my friend
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(Crack)
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We must all
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(Crack)
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try to mood
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(Crack)
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Failing t'is
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(Crack)
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we all urt
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(Crack)
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for t'e
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(Crack)
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Revolution.
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The Marquis grins, all bloody.
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-Ah! He says. -I see.
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Robespierre nods and smiles.
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His wig slips.
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Genius has Gargoyle Grin
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Gargoyle Face.
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Genius has nine lives &
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A house in Rome.
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Genius has snow in the
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Oil & Gas
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Genius trips on dance
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sucks souls with his
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Purple lips.
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Fly Swallows Bread by
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the pound.
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-Mister, no matter how much you have, t'ain't enough. Never enough
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sir, no sir.
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Fuck this.
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Chance slips her calloused fingers around the small of my back.
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-Baby, she purrs, -stay here for awhile.
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I'm tired, twist my life in command, unfurl the precious hope of trance.
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Pearl's Girl is twisted in the alley, naked in a box.
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Sade knocks on the cardboard door.
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-Sweetie. . ?
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I'm in bed with Death, her roses ripping my back. She screams from the
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ceiling, my head on this bloody pillow her nails are in my neck.
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I'm howling with ecstacy, blood & cum & sweet-belly poison she licks her
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sharp teeth. Robespierre, his head severed, watches from the dresser
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drawer.
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-You'll never win, Shit'ead! He screams
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-Foutre-elle! Foutre-elle! Foutre la Salaud!
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Robespierre's frenzied, foaming at the mouth. His head is trembling
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dangerously. . .
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-Foutre! Merde! Merde! Merde!
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I grin my poison-boy grin into the Lady's honeyed lips. Fly lands on
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her mouth & steals a kiss, buzzes away drunkenly, drunk on feminine
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sweetness.
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1,000 meaningless orders & where am I? On a bus to the NW, rapping
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transcendental while some lady in dead white fur reads the bible beside me.
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Every so often she'll read aloud with great excitement. Whatever. It means
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nothing to me, her purple-red dyed hair, fake carcass coat or the Word of
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Our Lord. I'm tired & dreaming of a time when I get more than 3hrs sleep.
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This is no 3rd option between burning out and fading away. There is no
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higher power than man. . . just like lost schooldays.
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Genius scrapes his mind from the feeling of decay, this feeling that hands
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will not fade.. The bushes grow straight and cold, by the river, they
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freeze and crack like ice. . .
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Sidewalk to talk to on a Monday afternoon, rapt and
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the whorl of black boots and khakis around me.
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No such time as this time, Adam flailing in the garden, Eve lost in the
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first snow. Adam learned her flesh before they found fig leaves, before
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Michelangelo first smelt oils.
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Sie's in the door, the seventh, watching, impassive.
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Fly sucks up.
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The Lady's burnin' it up.
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-Red or Black?
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I flicker. -Red.
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The scotch goes down smooth.
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click
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My wolfgrin licks her honeyed lips. Sie shivers.
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I swerve, glare at Genius.
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-Red or Black?
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His eyes close.
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I smile slow. -Black. I say.
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The amber liquid disappears down his soft throat.
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Click
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The Marquis?
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-Red.
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-Red.
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Fly: -Yessir, I want sir, I no, mister. . .
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-Black.
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His mouth quivers as he takes his shot.
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Blood hits the wall.
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Robespierre's laughs from his place in the table's center.
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-Mon Dieu! He cackles.
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The Lady bats her dark eyes.
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Sie snarls.
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-Red ou Black? asks Robespierre.
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The Lady grins.
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Fin
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---------------------------------------------------------------------------
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uXu #437 Underground eXperts United 1998 uXu #437
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ftp://ftp.lysator.liu.se/pub/texts/uxu
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---------------------------------------------------------------------------
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