101 lines
5.0 KiB
Plaintext
101 lines
5.0 KiB
Plaintext
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-|- the hogs of entropy -|-
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-|- "text files to read with soup." -|-
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_
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/' /' `\
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/' /' )
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moo. oink. /'__ /' /' ____ issue
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/' ) /' /' /' ) -104-
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/' /' /' /' /(___,/'
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/' /(__ (_____,/' (________
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>> "SCREW" <<
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by -> trilobyte
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----------------------------------------------------------------------------
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excited by the possibilities, happy young rob was known as bob by his
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friends and fag by his enemies.
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little did they know, he had tabs on everyone, and when they
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weren't looking, he defecated into his hand and wiped it on their house.
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he wasn't really gay, you see. rather, he was bisexual -- and ran a booth
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at the flea market where he sold blankets and bolts and things that people
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didn't want to buy. until he bought the door, then they got mad and
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yelled at him
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fag
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and then he ran out of it and went to get more.
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they said
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there is none, man, shit
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and he looked and looked and looked very ugly at the time, confusing
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the reader and he liked to swim. bob, his name, ate fish at night on
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certain occasions when his grandmother came over the hill to his cabin in
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the woods. it was adjacent to the garage of his cabin, which came in
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handy when people brought automobiles to his cabin. bob's wooden cabin
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was stately and the large breasted women in the suburb where his cabin
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lived degraded bob and his children for being
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fag
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even though really he lived in the woods and had the upper hand on
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them all. and he didn't even have any children, so he just whooped their
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asses in parcheesi and gin rummy and other card games. the number five
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played a large part in his worldly conquests, causing him to eat more fish
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than his grandmother could assemble in her five hour workshift at the
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store. she was getting old hat, blue, please, in the box. no, the other
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one. on the top shelf. thanks.
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christmas time came and the cabin was full of tea, warm to the touch
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and tasty to the tongue. spelling was not bob's forte, as his daughter
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could tell you, if he had one, which he doesn't, so changing case won't
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help you now. fart. or don't, for as the calling comes, we all shall
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live in the world of our lord his god and the goat with the ghost in the
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box in the head on the table in the place they like to call heaven or hell
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or one of the afterlife places. or so felt bob, he thought, when he was
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alone in his cabin with his grandmother and sons. he had three sons until
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he realized he had none and then he had no sons anymore. but.
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bob's gate kept people in and out as he pleased to have them. if he
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was not pleased to have them, he took the utmost care to make sure that
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the gate was closed so that the person could not come in. because
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unenjoyable circumstances were not things that bob enjoyed putting up
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with, not with lots of hair on his head that needed to be cut badly. bad
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haircuts were not something that bob liked, since he was gay, and had to
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keep his hair looking nice so that he could convince people that he wasn't
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gay, even though he isn't. but he ain't. and so am i, said he, after
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climbing to the top of the tall thing, looking down on creation and he
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really really liked to sing that song. thinking of the old baseball card
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shop in the ghetto made him realize his wealth and power in modern
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society, and his calling to baptize all young chastized women into the
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church of the holy harpoon that killed dozens of whales in the days of
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whale-harpooning. must be worshipped, me, now, thanks, thought bob, or
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tom, as his senile uncle sometimes called him but yes. i do agree
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sometimes, depending on the time of day and week i am. not feeling good,
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said she, eating crescent rolls on ends of wheat and rye toast butter
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jelly food. broad road is tread often, but only on the way, the right
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way, the way to the gate to heaven. lots of flashing lights, people
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standing on words that can't describe the way i'm hooked on a feelin'.
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i yelled and scratched my head vigorously until i got sick of
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doing so and then i decided to yelp at the dog who was eating my food.
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"stop eating my food", i quoted from the story. dog left with his scarf,
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it was cold outside, very cold. bundle up. so.
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no reason at all is why he built his cabin in the woods to get away
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from his grandmother who came to visit him and his daughter's fish in time
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for the spelling bee, but she had to be home in time for her fivehour
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workshift at the store because she had to pay off her automobile which was
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sitting in bob's garage. so, really, we all believe bob is a
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fag.
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no doubt.
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----------------------------------------------------------------------------
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* (c) HoE publications. HoE #104 -> written by trilobyte -- 6/11/97 *
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