100 lines
6.2 KiB
Plaintext
100 lines
6.2 KiB
Plaintext
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_____________ _/_/ | | \ \ _/_/ _____________
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| ___________ _/_/ | | \ \ _/_/ ___________ |
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| | _/_/_____ | | > > _/_/_____ | |
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| | /________/ | | / / /________/ | |
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| | c o m m u n i c a t i o n s | |
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| |________________________________________________________________| |
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|____________________________________________________________________|
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...presents... Bob Takes a Trip
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by Special Agent
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Finerty
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>>> a cDc publication.......1994 <<<
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-cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc-
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____ _ ____ _ ____ _ ____ _ ____
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|____digital_media____digital_culture____digital_media____digital_culture____|
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"There are times when a man has to be alone. Sometimes you just have to
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take off and get in touch with yourself and with the part of you that is deep
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and introspective."
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Those words played over and over in his head like a record with a bad
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scratch. He knew he was right though. He really did need to take a break.
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Hell, he'd been on the project only three months and already he had enough data
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for two papers. "Yeah," he thought, "I guess I deserve a break." That's where
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he found himself as he shoved his tooth brush into the duffel bag. Bob was
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taking a vacation. His first, and to Disneyland to boot. He'd heard all
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about the insane rides and the throngs of people. He knew he could lose
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himself there, knew that no one would notice that he never talked to anyone
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else and always ate alone. Indeed, he knew he could get in touch with himself
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there. Bob was never the type of kid to play in the woods or even play outside
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much. He preferred to sit and read or watch TV. As far as he was concerned,
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this trip to Disneyland was a trip into nature, into the real world, a world
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where Bob had never felt entirely comfortable. It's hard to feel normal in
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such a place when you're a two foot high, dysfunctional mechanical dog.
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At Disneyland, he would fit right in. Most likely people would just think
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he was one of the attractions. He knew they never talked so he could just keep
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to himself and think. Of course, getting there wouldn't be too much fun. He
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had to call a cab and then put himself in one of those large doggie carriers
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with a note on top from himself to the cabbie explaining what should be done.
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"Fucking incompetents," was all he could think as the container slammed against
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the door of the cab. He growled at the cabbie for this but he just ignored
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Bob. So Bob gored him right there. After he had cleaned the blood off
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himself, he shoved the driver into the trunk and drove himself to the airport
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parking in a desolated area of the garage so no one would see him getting out
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of the cab.
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He grabbed all of his crap and walked to the spot where a porter should
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show up to help people with their luggage. Finally a seemingly young college
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student type of person showed and read the note Bob had put on the top of the
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carrier. "At least this chick isn't such a fuck like the cabbie," Bob thought.
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He didn't like to kill people. They didn't taste very good for one thing, and
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the blood always made a helluva mess on his plaid vest. After he was loaded
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onto the plane, he set his alarm to go off when the plane began losing altitude
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and dozed off to dream of Pluto and how he'd really like to teach him what a
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real dog would do to Mickey.
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His dream was left unfinished however, when the plane began to descend
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just a little early. Well, actually it was way too early. They were still
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over Nevada. Five seconds after he woke up, the plane crash-landed into the
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sand. Bob was not happy. Being stuck in the damned dog carrier was not the
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best place to be when you and the luggage are brought to a sudden stop. As he
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flew through the baggage compartment, he thought about the pain he would
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inflict upon the pilot if he was still alive.
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Magically, more than half of the passengers survived the crash. The
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survivors, however, took a secret vote and decided they should use Bob to
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obtain parts to fix the broken transmitter in the plane. This was, of course,
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a most unfortunate and fatal move on the part of the survivors and they soon
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joined the rest of the passengers as carrion.
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Bob was not happy; not only was his last vest bloodied with the juice of a
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hundred ignorant humans but he was at least a day behind in his vacation plans.
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"Ah fuck it," he said, and proceeded to launch one of his nuclear missiles at
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Moscow. "I'm so sick of this shit," he thought as he walked towards the
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nearest mesa. "Might as well have a good view of the fireworks."
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_______ __________________________________________________________________
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/ _ _ \|Demon Roach Undrgrnd.806/794-4362|Kingdom of Shit.....806/794-1842|
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((___)) |Cool Beans!..........415/648-PUNK|Polka AE {PW:KILL}..806/794-4362|
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[ x x ] |Metalland Southwest..713/579-2276|ATDT East...........617/350-STIF|
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\ / |The Works............617/861-8976|Ripco ][............312/528-5020|
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(' ') | Save yourself! Go outside! DO SOMETHING! |
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(U) |==================================================================|
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.ooM |Copyright (c) 1994 cDc communications and Special Agent Finerty. |
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\_______/|All Rights Reserved. 11/01/1994-#290|
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<EFBFBD><EFBFBD>
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