88 lines
5.4 KiB
Plaintext
88 lines
5.4 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... Boredom and Innocence
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by Obscure Images
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>>> a cDc publication.......1991 <<<
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-cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc-
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______________________________________________________________________________
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The sky was a brilliant blue, and there were no clouds in the sky, at
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least that is what Jim gathered from the brief opening of his eyes on that
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morning. It was a premature awakening, mostly because he had forgotten to
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close the shades on the window the night before. There was a sort of half-
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awake cursing coming from under the blankets where Jim tried vainly to get back
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to sleep in the searing sunlight.
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There was no hope, of course. The devil sun ripped through the blankets
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and eyelids, making it impossible for him to return to the land of his
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dreaming. Jim settled into the inevitability of his awakening and rose
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from the waterbed, fully opening his eyes at the same time. There they were,
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like a god damned plague. The newly founded blurry spots that flew across his
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field of vision whenever his eyes were opened. The eye doctor, a real fucking
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quack if the truth must be told, told him that these "floaters" were caused by
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the vitreous humor in the eye detaching itself from the retina in a little
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spot, hence the blurring in those spots. The doctor said that they were
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permanent, and happen to everyone eventually, although to the extremely
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near-sighted they happened at a much younger age. Life is a bitch sometimes,
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and Jim was more than inclined to agree.
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The world was a place of confusion to Jim these days, nothing seemed to be
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the way they used to be. His eye was fucking up on him, his body seemed to be
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going to the shitter, and he was living in a new place where there were no
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friendly faces to be found outside his house. At least there was the
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television to keep him company through the long days. The television was a
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good friend, at least up until the fucking floaters started getting in the way
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and fucking things up all the way.
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This day would turn out to be different than the previous ones, for better
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or worse one couldn't really tell until a far later date. After showering and
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dressing in his best clothes, he went downstairs to where his mother was
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vacuuming the floor. He said hello, she responded in kind, and that was the
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full scope of the conversation. He went to the closet and pulled out the good
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wool overcoat, and headed for the door. Stopping momentarily at the desk, he
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grabbed a leather folder full of examples of his art, and then walked outside.
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There he was, in the place he hated more than anything, outside in the
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bright morning sun. There was no place that could be worse than that. Jim put
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on his sunglasses and climbed into his car. The car followed the road at some
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less than urgent promptings from Jim. It finally rolled to a stop outside a
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graphic arts studio. Jim exited the vehicle and went into the studio.
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The robot dance that was to follow is only important in a vague sense.
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To tell the whole story of the next 20 minutes would be monotonous and hardly
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worth reading. Let it suffice to be said that there were a lot of heads
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nodding, a lot of nervous stutters, a few tense moments, and at the end a smile
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and a handshake. There was a victory in the air, although from the emotions in
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the head of the robot named Jim, you really couldn't tell if the result was
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desired. Back in the car, Jim thought for a moment before the panic set in and
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he drove back home to be safely in front of the television set.
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_ _ ____________________________________________________________________
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/((___))\|Demon Roach Undrgrnd.806/794-4362|Grassroots..............new # soon|
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[ x x ] |NIHILISM.............513/767-7892|Paisley Pasture.......916/673-8412|
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\ / |Tequila Willy's GSC..209/526-3194|The Works.............617/861-8976|
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(' ') |Lunatic Labs.........213/655-0691|Ripco II..............312/528-5020|
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(U) |====================================================================|
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.ooM |Copr. 1991 cDc communications by Obscure Images. 02/18/91-#159|
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\_______/|All Rights Pissed Away. |
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