100 lines
5.7 KiB
Plaintext
100 lines
5.7 KiB
Plaintext
|
||
_
|
||
| \
|
||
| \
|
||
| | \
|
||
__ | |\ \ __
|
||
_____________ _/_/ | | \ \ _/_/ _____________
|
||
| ___________ _/_/ | | \ \ _/_/ ___________ |
|
||
| | _/_/_____ | | > > _/_/_____ | |
|
||
| | /________/ | | / / /________/ | |
|
||
| | | | / / | |
|
||
| | | |/ / | |
|
||
| | | | / | |
|
||
| | | / | |
|
||
| | |_/ | |
|
||
| | | |
|
||
| | c o m m u n i c a t i o n s | |
|
||
| |________________________________________________________________| |
|
||
|____________________________________________________________________|
|
||
|
||
...presents... Your Hometown
|
||
by Jason D. Corley
|
||
|
||
>>> a cDc publication.......1994 <<<
|
||
-cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc-
|
||
____ _ ____ _ ____ _ ____ _ ____
|
||
|____digital_media____digital_culture____digital_media____digital_culture____|
|
||
|
||
When you came back to your hometown for Christmas, he was still there,
|
||
sitting in the third table outside the cafe on the corner. You didn't have
|
||
time to stop then, but after a week had passed in hours of eating, sleeping,
|
||
telling stories to nephews and nieces and parents, and after you finally said
|
||
your last goodbye and kissed your mother on the cheek, you stopped the car at
|
||
the general store to fill up on gas. As the numbers clicked past, one by one,
|
||
you saw, by the dim, soft and distant-seeming red of your hometown's only
|
||
streetlight, that he was still there.
|
||
|
||
You remember, as a child, climbing up into the seat across from him. He
|
||
would order you an ice cream soda, and you would talk about school and what you
|
||
wanted to do when you grew up. All the kids knew about him, but there was only
|
||
one other seat at his table, so only one kid at a time would go.
|
||
|
||
One day, you asked him, "Why are you always sittin' out here, mister?"
|
||
|
||
He said, "Well, I'm waiting for her to come back with the cigarettes. She
|
||
said she wanted to run across and get some cigarettes before we left." He
|
||
would fumble for the money in the pockets of his thick grey suit.
|
||
|
||
You knew about leaving. Ever since you can remember, you wanted to get
|
||
out of your hometown, but when you finally did, it didn't feel as good as you
|
||
thought it would.
|
||
|
||
Inside the general store, the old woman asks you how things are in the
|
||
city. "Just fine," you say, "Just fine." She smiles toothlessly. The general
|
||
store is old, its wooden walls glowing with age and wear. On the wall, you
|
||
notice a photograph. The old woman sees you looking at it.
|
||
|
||
"That's a picture of what Central Street looked like, oh, 80 or 90 years
|
||
ago. Found it in my attic." She hands you your change.
|
||
|
||
The photograph is hand-tinted, amateurishly. The sky is too blue, the
|
||
dirt street too brown, the brick buildings too red. It looks like a cartoon,
|
||
with the bar to one side, the general store itself up the road a ways (a horse
|
||
yard where the gas pumps are now), and across the street, the fire-engine-red-
|
||
bricked tobacconist's. You pause, then look closely at the photograph. You
|
||
have seen something very familiar, but at the same time, strangely disquieting.
|
||
|
||
In front of the bar are several tables, out underneath the wide sky. At
|
||
one of the tables is a figure in a grey suit, sitting with a woman in a white
|
||
dress. Their faces are fuzzy and indistinct, but you know who it is.
|
||
|
||
You return to your car, start it, and turn on the lights. You are in no
|
||
mood to stop, no mood to remain here in this town, you have to go, you have to
|
||
get out of your hometown and get back to the city and the things you know.
|
||
|
||
Suddenly, a white figure streaks directly in front of your car. You slam
|
||
on the brakes, but the small-town pavement is crumbling, and you are thrown
|
||
from side to side as your car slews around. There is a horrible thud.
|
||
|
||
You unbuckle your seat belt and get out of the car, stomach churning. The
|
||
road behind you is empty. You look left and right, frantically searching for
|
||
who it was you hit. Then you turn instinctively towards the cafe, thinking
|
||
that the man who waited there might have seen something.
|
||
|
||
His bench is empty. On the table is only a large, ceramic ashtray. In it
|
||
are only two still-smoldering cigarettes. Their wispy trails of smoke
|
||
intertwine in the glaring beams of your headlights.
|
||
|
||
You get into your car. It's going to be a long drive back to the city.
|
||
_______ __________________________________________________________________
|
||
/ _ _ \|Demon Roach Undrgrnd.806/794-4362|Kingdom of Shit.....806/794-1842|
|
||
((___)) |Cool Beans!..........415/648-PUNK|Polka AE {PW:KILL}..806/794-4362|
|
||
[ x x ] |Metalland Southwest..713/579-2276|ATDT East...........617/350-STIF|
|
||
\ / |The Works............617/861-8976|Ripco ][............312/528-5020|
|
||
(' ') | Save yourself! Go outside! DO SOMETHING! |
|
||
(U) |==================================================================|
|
||
.ooM |Copyright (c) 1994 cDc communications and Jason D. Corley. |
|
||
\_______/|All Rights Reserved. 12/01/1994-#292|
|
||
|
||
<EFBFBD><EFBFBD> |