121 lines
6.3 KiB
Plaintext
121 lines
6.3 KiB
Plaintext
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T ||==\\ || || ||==\\ ||==|| || || B L E N D E R C O R P O R A T I O N
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|| || || || || || || \\ // ------------------------------------
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H || || || || ||==// ||=|| >|< >>> Presents <<<
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|| || || || || \\ || // \\ IPROSE-1.DBC
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E ||==// \\==// || \\ ||==|| || || #008-RT01 -- [08/12/91]
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______________________________________________________________________________
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Irrelevant Prose
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Volume One: Several Shorts
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-------------
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by Random Tox
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The Policy
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He had been alone in the desert without supplies for almost a week. The
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sky was growing darker and the day steadily receded as he crawled, half-naked
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and starving through the barren wasteland. His slashed and bleeding palms
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oozed blood as they worked their way over the plentiful rock formations which
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were quickly becoming harder to see in the dying sun. Then he saw it.
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The light blazed on the horizon, the golden glow beckoned to his heart.
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He wobbled to his feet and ran, ignoring the searing pain as the gravel
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worked its way into his infected soles as he tore towards the heartwarming
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glow of the beacon. The night wore on and the sign loomed high above the
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tangled hair of his head. He cried. Kneeling before the simple building, he
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prayed, vowing never again to forsake his religious duties. Then, leaning
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against a plastic clown, smearing his grinning face with blood, he lumber
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across the pavement to the MacDonalds.
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"Sorry sir!" Said the smiling attendant. "No shoes, no shirt, no
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service!"
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The Beauty
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His hormones surged rapidly, massive whitecapped waves crashing down
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with ferocious force onto the beaches of his gonads. The hair on the back of
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his neck rose slowly, bristling, and he moaned softly, the quiet sound
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slipping past his flushed lips. She was more beautiful than any other girl he
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had ever seen, her soft, beautiful auburn hair fluttering in the wind like a
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lady's token on a knight's lance. His lance. Her doe-like eyes, soft and
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brown, swept the area, pausing to look into his, picking over the deepest
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parts of his soul.
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"My love." He whispered, a tear trickling down his cheek as the brown
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collie with the red collar turned the corner, her soft brown eyes gazing at
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him for a moment before a brick wall cut her off from him. Forever.
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The Gun
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-------
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There it was. Right in the shop window, beside the gleaming model train
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with real smoke, it stood, solitary and beautiful. It was the thing I'd
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always wanted. It was the RamCo Super-Ace Whizbanger Aerodynamic Gyro-Spin
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Spearheaded Mondo-Alien Space Hero Raygun, and it was the only one left. It's
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smooth, sweet, well-oiled casing slid back over its body, a glistening metal
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fin rising from the rear, and just below that the leather-wrapped grip,
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embossed with the official TriWorld logo. The trigger jutted out like a
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vicious tooth, embraced by the curving guard which crawled up from the grip
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to the shining barrel with its torpedolike contours.
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It was more spectacular than any other object in the glorious store
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window, and it was destined to be mine. I could feel it. And then a skinny
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green extra- terrestrial with bulging eyes and a gray spacesuit went in and
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bought it. Damn.
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The Chase
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The dull, staggered cruching rose in both frequency and volume as a dark
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silhouette stumbled from the cloaking shadows of evening, sluggish feet being
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forced to run through the crisp, clean whiteness of the new snow. He was
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wearing a gray business suit, an expensive paisley silk tie hanging loosely
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around his thin neck, pink and red from the cold. His armsflapped as he ran
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onward, the torn slivers of his suit trailing behind him like streamers from
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a department store fan. His ragged breath showed in stark puffs of warm mist
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that dissipated as he ran, joining the night air.
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Left, right, left, right, stumble, stand straight, left, right. The man
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lumbered off, tired and worn, leaning against the graffiti-stained bricks of
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the alley wall. Run. Run. The dark brown mass of his hair shifted in the
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breeze that came through the open end of the alley. His eyes shifted as he
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turned to face the exit, deep brown irises shrinking as his pupils dilated.
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He saw his pursuer. The hunter. He saw the dull glint of gunmetal, the
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twitch of the finger.
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A gunshot richoched off the battered walls and into the moonlit skies of
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the city. The alley was abandoned. A pool of deep red tricked over the snow,
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staining it with sin, an open deed before the moon's eye. In the dim light
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afforded by the cracked and buzzing street light, the pristine whiteness
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slowly melted with the heat of the ruddy drops spilt a just few minutes
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before, small tentacles of steam rising upwards as the chill air of darkness
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kissed the earth.
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Falling Leaves
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It was autumn and the golden-brown leaves fluttered gently to earth,
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denting the cement slabs of the sidewalk. Albert bent over to investigate
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this curious phenomenon and was killed instantly when a particularly large
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maple leaf landed on the back of his head.
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Food for Thought
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----------------
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I speared a rather juicy piece of the meat on the end of my fork, and
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with some trepidation raised it to my lips. It was crunchy and tasted like
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chicken.
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"Do you always eat fried yak spleens?" I asked my host, using my tongue
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to slide the various slices around in my mouth. He looked at me with an
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expression of mirth on his face, "Yak spleens, boy? Hehe. You wish they
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were." I chuckled at his little joke. Then I found out about the operation,
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and how his spleen was removed several months ago. My host smiled, "I got
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bored looking at it on the bookshelf all day."
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[Hullo to all th' folks from Geneva. It's your fault I wrote these. - RT]
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______________________________________________________________________________
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(C)1991 by The Durex Blender Corporation & Random Tox
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All Rights Revered. Even yours.
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*** Spread the word of Turnex, the Blender for the Next Millenium. ***
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The Durex Blender Corporation : Boston (617) 696-8156 - 24oo/8N1 - 24 hours
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