138 lines
8.0 KiB
Plaintext
138 lines
8.0 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... Milk and Blood
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by Lady Carolin
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__//////\ -cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc- /\\\\\\__
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Est. 1984 \\\\\\/ cDc paramedia: text #335-08/01/1997 \////// Est. 1984
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__ _ _ __ _ _ __ _ _ __ _ _ __
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|__heal_the_sick__raise_the_dead__cleanse_the_lepers__cast_out_demons__|
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My lover moans as I brush up against her. From behind, I caress her
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flanks, feeling slowly, languorously all the way down to her ankles. She
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twitches as I touch her; she shudders in anticipation as I fit my body against
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her rear. My arms hold her in place, bracing both of us, as I push into her
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from behind again, and again. As I thrust I reach to feel and knead her
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teats. Her excitement is great; milk flows from her. I long to be facing
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her, to suckle at her as do young, but I can not bear to pull myself from her.
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My beloved groans as I thrust again, again.
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As I begin to feel the first stirrings of pleasure, I see Them come into
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the field. They hold the Pain Sticks in their hands, and a rope. My lover
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bellows in terror. I don't know if they have come for me, or for her, but I
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am angered either way. I disengage from Bessie, causing her to shriek in pain
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from the loss of my engorged calfmaker. I charge Them; hooves digging into
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the ground; sweat glistening off my flanks. They run about the field
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frantically. I give chase, snorting in my rage.
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They succeed in distracting me. While I chase the first group of Them,
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others sneak up to Bessie, surrounding her, roping her, pulling her with them.
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They head over to the Shed of Disappearances with her, my precious. I am
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frightened by the Shed: my father, my mother, my brothers had all been taken
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there, and never returned.
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They take Bessie from me. They catch me and shock me, burn me. The pain
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is no worse than when They had fixed Their mark upon my thigh; the pain of
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separation from Bessie is worse. My anger grows, quickly, like wet grass. I
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pray to Our-Mother-Who-Is-The-Sky for help. She blesses me. I escape my
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tormentors. I charge towards the Shed, determined to follow my favorite into
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the Great Disappearance.
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By the time I knock in the shed door with my great horns, They have
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mutilated her. My hooves slide in Bessie's blood, which pools on the ground.
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I stare at her head, in one corner of the room; I look at her body, which is
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in another. Her brown eyes, which just two cud-times away had been shorn with
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desire for me, are now glazed over, unfocused, staring at the top of the Shed.
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As I stand here in shock, They are carving Her open, piece by piece, with
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their shiny knives, their humming tools.
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My shock is overcome when I see them slice her belly open, tearing it
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apart to reveal the Holy Place, the Calf-Nest. I see my white Bull-Juice
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dripping out of her gash. Enraged, I charge Them, as I had never charged
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before. My right Great Horn skewers one of Them in his man-place; he screams
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as he falls, then is silent. I swing my massive head around; my left Great
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Horn stabs into an abdomen, and the tormentor falls to the floor, collapsing
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onto the body of my dead mate.
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The two of Them at the door scream and run for their Pain Sticks. I am
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faster, tossing them over my head and body into the wall of the Shed. I stomp
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on their bodies, dancing, trying to raise my torso in the air to walk like
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Them. I am too heavy. I can't do it, and fall heavily onto Their broken
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bodies. I enjoy the sounds of their bones snapping, and fall on them again,
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again. My hide is covered in manblood, Bessie's blood, sweat, and milk that
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has seeped from Bessie's dead udders.
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I crawl from the carnage into the pasture, and lay panting on the Grass.
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To my horror, our son comes and lays next to me, mooing softly, inquiring
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about his mother. I can not tell him. I am too weak, too confused. I growl
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at him to be quiet, and he nurses at the grass for an hour or so. When I can
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face him, I tell him his mother has moved on to greener pastures. I forbid
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him to ever go near the Shed.
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I left our son with a brood cow in the next field, determined to avenge
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myself of this most awful tragedy. I ran into their homes, not minding nor
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noticing the clear Walls that I broke as I charged through, not minding the
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cuts in my hide. I found their young in their beds. It was to fatten these
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sickly young that my Bessie was killed; They took the milk out of our calves'
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mouths to offer to these pale, small beings. Goring the young, soft flesh was
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easy, and peculiarly satisfying. My horns slid through, and came out clean.
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Their young bled in their beds silently.
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I learned to enjoy waiting, squeezing my huge body into the rooms of the
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children until morning, watching the horror on Their faces as they saw their
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young dead in their beds. They saw me and yelled, running into their
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hallways. I tore their flimsy walls with my huge body, my sharp horns,
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destroying their houses before I took their lives. My hooves kicked their
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pliant stomachs to shreds, popped Their hard heads open. My horns gouged out
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Their eyes.
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Terrible smells I found in most of Their houses, emanating from hard,
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cold boxes. It took me days to pry one open. My sorrow when I found the
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corpses of our kind was immense.
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I learned to use their roads, I learned to hide myself in their forests.
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I learned to butt open their doors, break their windows, and climb their
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flimsy stairs. I learned a thousand ways to kill Them, to grievously injure
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Their soft bodies.
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I ate of their lawns and gardens. I drank of their pools, their buckets,
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their irrigation ditches. I killed, and ambled on.
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.-. _ _ .-.
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/ \ .-. ((___)) .-. / \
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/.ooM \ / \ .-. [ x x ] .-. / \ /.ooM \
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-/-------\-------/-----\-----/---\--\ /--/---\-----/-----\-------/-------\-
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/lucky 13\ / \ / `-(' ')-' \ / \ /lucky 13\
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\ / `-' (U) `-' \ /
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`-' the original e-zine `-' _
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Oooo eastside westside / ) __
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/)(\ ( \ WORLDWIDE / ( / \
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\__/ ) / Copyright (c) 1997 cDc communications and the author. \ ) \)(/
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(_/ CULT OF THE DEAD COW is a registered trademark of oooO
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cDc communications, PO Box 53011, Lubbock, TX, 79453, USA. _
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oooO All rights reserved. Edited by Grandmaster Ratte'. __ ( \
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/ ) /)(\ / \ ) \
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\ ( \__/ Save yourself! Go outside! Do something! \)(/ ( /
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\_) xXx BOW to the COW xXx Oooo
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