208 lines
12 KiB
Plaintext
208 lines
12 KiB
Plaintext
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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... Beautiful Stories for Ugly Children #1
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by Krass Katt
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>>> a cDc publication.......1989 <<<
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-cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc-
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_______________________________________________________________________________
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The circus was burning.
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It was me, Bingo, Foo Foo, and Joey Punchinello from the street. Foo
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Foo stole the keys to the Dart while Bingo grabbed Addy the Freaklady and some
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of our best pups. I got the booze out the ringmaster's trailer when he was
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watching the big-top burn. Joey Punchinello just lay low. Everyone knew he
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was always wiser to things than he was saying, like when that midget got
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drowned in the horse trough last winter. We figured we'd go 'til either the
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gas or money ran out, and if we could, swing back for Bingo's gig in the
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suburbs next day. Whatever. Not a damned thing about the fire on the radio so
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we blasted the tunes and shot west doin' 95, teasing the dogs and taking turns
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with Addy. In the back seat, she was anybody's freak.
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Just outside Scaulderville, Foo Foo spies this big hairy dog we just
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gotta have, so we throw it in the back and Addy dumps her bourbon on it and we
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all get a pretty good laugh. Bingo swallows wrong and gets the dry heaves, and
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one of the pups gets his tongue in my ear.
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At the light, we get stares from the bus people and I tell Joey
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Punchinello he should moon 'em but he's sucking back his bottle pretty good and
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kind of staring off at the horizon like he don't hear. Bingo and Foo Foo are
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all over Addy in a private-like moment, so me and the pups give 'em the finger.
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We pull into this 7-11 to let the engine cool and get another case of
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long necks, and Foo Foo goes to this strip joint next door to check the talent
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and maybe get us some riders for a kick. Meanwhile, that new dog's really
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starting to stink with that bourbon all in its hair, and Addy whines that it's
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making her sick, so me and Bingo go in for the beer and get some hair remover
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as well and douse the dog in the parking lot. And man, we almost lose it when
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we see this big hairless thing standing there after we finish, buck naked.
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Then we heard the screams next door.
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Seems Foo Foo met up with some bikers at Rico's, and I'm telling you,
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if the clown has a natural enemy, it's bikers! So this body comes flying out
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the door and I say, "Hey, that looks like the Foo," which it was, and then
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there's all these guys kicking and running toward us with knives. So I fire up
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the Dart and gun for the thick part of the crowd. I don't know if I got any of
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'em, but we slide to a stop right next to Foo Foo and drag him in real quick
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and split. Whole time Joey's letting out these shrieks of laughter like I
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never heard, and Addy's crying. I figured it was on account of Joey
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Punchinello freaking out, you know, 'cause I couldn't see nothin' through the
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dogs. Then I see Foo Foo.
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Needless to say, those bikers did quite a number on the Foo, crushing
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his face pretty good and what not, but we figured most of the bleeding was
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goin' on inside, on account of he kept splitting up blood even after his lips
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stopped bleeding. It was a bad scene all around, and Joey starts swearing
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non-stop, laughing real weird and not even looking at Foo Foo, which really
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sets Addy off and she kinds of hugs herself because nobody else will at this
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point. She used to be wild for those bare-knuckle clown fights behind the
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tents after hours, but this was different to her, I guess.
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I got us out of town pretty quick, and by this time it's late. So we
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spend the night behind this fill-up station with some real low types who hassle
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us about the dogs, who were howling real strange like I never heard 'em do
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before. The rest of the night we sometimes catch each other's eye, and nobody
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says anything but we all know the dogs are wise to something, and no one wants
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to take a guess. Then we wake up next morning and there's Foo Foo, slumped
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against the dumpster, dead in the early sunlight. And there's Joey next to him
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just laughing like he don't know what's goin' on. Just laughing.
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Next thing I know, Bingo's up on the dumpster doin' this little dance
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like we hit the jackpot, walking on the edge with his yellow umbrella like
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business as usual. Me and Addy don't say nothin', and Joey stops laughing and
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pulls his knees up tight to his chest and grins real big at the dogs, who sort
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of walk around looking at us like, "Yeah, now what?" Bingo was closest to the
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Foo. Been with him since Coney and the bust in '66.
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I figured it'd be best all around if we got a bottle in Joey and headed
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back the way we came for Bingo's gig. The pups ain't eaten since we started so
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we stop and get 'em some fries on the way. That's when we saw that stinking
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mime, acting like he's in some box that ain't there and leaning against some
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phony wind. It hit us at the same time that he should die! It was everything
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about Foo Foo, I guess, and when I gun it out of that drive-thru, the crowd
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around this idiot scatters like a dream and BAM! - Bingo smashes a bottle of
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scotch in his face and sends him flying, and we tear off down the highway
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listening for sirens that never come. No one says a word for about twenty
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minutes except Joey, who's singing, "Do You Know the Muffin Man?" to himself,
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but he's not really singing as much as growling.
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Finally, Addy says we should probably bury Foo Foo somewhere out of
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respect, and anyways he's a bit conspicuous, tied to the bumper and all, so we
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pull off at this ancient reservoir and dig a grave for our friend. Bingo says
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a rhyme and marks the spot with his umbrella and I take the plates off the car
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and bury 'em as well. All the while Joey Punchinello's just sitting there in
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the blazing hot car with his make-up starting to run and his clothes all dead
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with sweat. Bingo and Addy start drinking pretty good and petting real heavy,
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and we're down the road half an hour before we notice three of the dogs are
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missing. We get to Bingo's gig and he's lit like the Fourth of July. It's
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some kid's birthday and he stands to make about twenty-eight bucks for two
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hours. Me and Addy wait on the curb outside and take turns checking on Joey.
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I was starting to think it wasn't just Foo Foo getting trashed that set Joey
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off. I was starting to think it wasn't such a good idea to be riding with him
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either.
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Well, wouldn't you know it, Bingo's so far gone he ends up puking on
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the living room carpet in front of the kids and they stiff him for the dough
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and toss him out. When this lady sees me and Addy on the curb and all, she
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gives us this look like, "Go to hell, freaks!", then slams the door. No doubt
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she was gonna call the pigs. Bingo's crying like a gusher. I could see it was
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lots of things at once, and Addy sort of holds him close and rocks back and
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forth real slow, whispering in both his ears.
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That's when something in me snapped and I was kicking the front door in
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before I knew what I was doing. Screaming kids, running crying.... And that
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woman standing there with her big fat mouth open on the phone like she seen the
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devil himself. I grab a couple bottles off the counter without so much as a
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thank you and they all know not to come near me. It was the first time I ever
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saw someone scared of me, and I got off on it. I stared 'em down and strolled
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out real slow. Never burn a clown.
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We hit the road and I don't know which way we're heading, just that
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we're moving fast. Joey Punchinello's starting to smell funny and the naked
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dog won't go near him. But he's still giggling just the same, and when I catch
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his glance in the rear view for a second, I chuckle myself. Bingo and Addy
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just lay there, not saying anything, staring at the flat ugly landscape racing
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by. They had something, I knew, and I felt warm and happy and sick all at
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once. And Joey's sitting next to 'em there, rubbing his legs and snickering
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like someone told him something dirty.
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We pull into this abandoned Shell and everyone gets out but Joey.
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That's when Addy tells me she and Bingo want to get married, which doesn't
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surprise me. She always liked Bingo best, it seemed, and I couldn't figure how
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they'd be any worse off than any other married couple. Bingo asks me if I'll
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do the ceremony and I say yeah. We have a secret rite that sticks as good as
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any legal one and saves the usual hassle with outsiders. And as far as I know,
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no one ever breaks our vow.
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So I marry them in front of a busted Coke machine and it's pretty
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beautiful. Bingo says, "Love makes the world go 'round," and I leave and find
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some rope on the ground to tie Joey Punchinello's hands with. He don't even
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know me at this point - sitting there clapping his fists together, making these
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awful noises that made me wish I had more rope.
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Well, ever since we buried the Foo, I been looking for a chance to get
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out. Anyway, I figured Bingo and Addy would. want a honeymoon and all, so the
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next town we hit, I pull in for gas and give Bingo the keys, for good. He
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don't say a word, he just knows. Addy gives me a couple of kisses and says,
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"good luck," like I'm the one who needs it. I don't even look at Joey, but can
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hear him humming this little tune he used to sing in the show right before he'd
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get the seltzer in the face and everyone would laugh. And the stupid thing is
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that all this time, all I'm thinking about is that big bald dog and how's
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anyone going to take him seriously without hair....
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They pulled out and headed south, and I figured they'd be okay wherever
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they ended up. Everybody loves a clown.
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That was the last I saw of 'em. Years later, I found a postcard they'd
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sent to an old address. It was a photograph, actually, of Addy and Bingo
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wearing sombreros and sitting on this donkey painted like a zebra in Mexico.
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Said they were "happy as clams," working a new act in a sideshow with the naked
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dog, who was a big hit, they say. They also told how, on the way down, Joey
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Punchinello chewed through his ropes and jumped out of the car on the highway.
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The last they saw him, he was running straight into the desert screaming. They
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looked for him but never found a trace, so they moved on. I should stop by if
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I get down that way, they said. They'd be easy enough to find.
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Like I say, that was years ago, and there's no way I'm going to Mexico.
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I got this steady gig at a used car lot handing out balloons to kids and waving
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customers in off the sidewalk. The boss man treats me fine because he knows a
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good clown is hard to find, and I think that deep down I make him nervous.
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Real nervous, which makes me laugh. I laugh all the time now and sometimes
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think of Joey and maybe someday going to look for him. But I figure it
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probably wouldn't do no good, bringing him back. He was never really happy
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like the rest of us.
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Snakes probably got him by now anyways.
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_ _ _____________________________________________________________________
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/((___))\|The Convent..........619/475-6187 The Dead Zone.........214/522-5321
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[ x x ] |Demon Roach Undrgrnd.806/794-4362 Greenpeace's IGB......916/673-8412
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\ / |PURE NIHILISM........517/337-7319 The Toll Center.......718/358-9209
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(' ') |Tequila Willy's GSC..209/526-3194 time centre...........312/377-0359
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(U) |=====================================================================
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.ooM |(c)1989 cDc communications by Krass Katt. 06/26/89-#112
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\_______/|All Rights Pissed Away.
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