295 lines
14 KiB
Plaintext
295 lines
14 KiB
Plaintext
______ ______ ______________
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\ / \ / ____ \ ______|
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| |________| | / \ | |____
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| ________ | ( {} ) | _____)
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/~~~~~~~~~~~ | | | | \____/ | |______ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~\
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| |~~~~~~~ / \ / \ / | ~~~~~~~~~| |
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| | |______| |______| /_____________| | |
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| | Hogs of Entropy Text Files Present... | |
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| | "The Lump from the Dump" | |
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| | By: Visioknight | |
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\ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ /
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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The Dragon in the Fridge
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------------------------
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I am a dragon. Not a prissy Silver, or an arrogant Red, or a wise Gold;
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I am a rare dragon, an Aluminum Foil Dragon. My skin sparkles with the
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promise of wrapped meat products; my tail shimmers, enticing you with
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the possibility of leftover delights. I am a proud beast.
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This anecdote that follows is a prime example of my life. I was resting
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peacefully in my chilled square cavern when a light flared and the cavern
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wall snapped off, flying to the far left. A pink head poked its way through
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the cavern entrance, and prodded around above me. From my viewpoint, it
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resembled a hydra! A pink hydra! A pink, searching hydra! I vowed to
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somehow stop it from invading MY territory.
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Stepping over a pot of baby corndragons and bypassing a bottle of spicy
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dragon fire tabasco, I positioned myself in a prime position to launch my
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strike and growled a warning, giving the clear-helmeted pink thing a
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chance to escape my wrath. It did not move away, it simply picked and
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rummaged through more of my fallen counterparts.
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Mock ME, will thou?
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I reared my foil head and began to thrash about. You will die, pink
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thing!, I thought as I began to hiss.
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What was I filled with today?
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Steak bits spiraled out of my hissing orifice, and pelted the pink thing,
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which reared up and backed out. Then it struck! All five helmeted heads
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enveloped me, and in a moment, the dirty act began! The cursed thing was
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raping me! It's heads opened my insides and rummaged, stealing my
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steak-fuel and yanking me out of my cold hibernating, slamming me on the
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hard white surface outside. I writhed in agony as my insides were bared
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and eaten.
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Then, it was over. Chicken now fills my belly, and I know the pink menace
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will return. And on the day it does, I will strike with harsher venom.
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trash.and.run
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-------------
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group.introductions
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A tall, thin teenager with dreadlocked hair tousled over his thin brown
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eyes hunched over a terminal in the far side of the room, typing furiously as
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five others stood above him in a semicircle. It was the standard random
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initiation to the five, and an adrenaline hell for the subject who had been
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at the terminal for approximately 2 hours straight.
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Someone coughed. It was the leader of the group, a six-foot-eleven
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monstrosity of a man, dressed in a faded denim and a vivid ivory-and beige
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baggy tunic with black turtleneck. He also wore a pull-hood which completely
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obscured his face - it was all part of the intimidation factor of initiation.
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Everyone in the group called him Oblivion, because of his false eyes which
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glowed with unnatural heat - Oblivion had formed the group on the basis of
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intimidation, and they had been terrorizing the phone company, TPC, telco,
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the evil empire, for a period of at least 3 years.
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"Superb job so far, John. If you can make it from here into the Telco
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dumping directory, you're almost assured a vote in," boomed Oblivion. He
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turned and whispered to the other four as the panting John looked up, his
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head twisted in an awkward, wet position.
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"We're going for coffee, hotshot. Figure out the dump site and meet us
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outside. Later," piped Vampiress, a short female with cropped hair, wearing
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an apron and ripped jean shorts. She began to walk out, and the remaining
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four lagged behind her.
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"Coffee tastes excellent in chill weather. Let that be an enticement
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for you to display haste," spoke a darkly humorous suited man called Butler.
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"Sure, whatever." muttered John as he resumed typing.
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outside.the.warehouse
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Two hours later, John emerged from the drab blue warehouse with spool
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paper dangling from his hands. A pale hand shot out from the darkness beside
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the exit door and flew up to the initiate's face. With a flick, his glasses
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slid back up his nose.
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"About time, pokey," mumbled Kidd-2, an 11-year old dressed in a totally
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black outfit.
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"Ya figure out the dump site or were you just wasting our time, newbie?"
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spat Vampiress, tossing some foreign object end over end in the darkness.
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She caught it one last time and smiled altogether too widely.
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"Yes... I have the dump site. It's at the fifth lot of Peatrix, section
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5-C. There's a lot of stuff, so whatever we take should be jackpot,"
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stuttered John, shoving the sheets of paper in offertory to Oblivion.
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"No, keep them. You may want to frame them later..." murmured Oblivion.
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"Planning on telling him, Obv?" shot Iguana, a nondescript bearded man
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of 22.
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"Telling me...?" queried John.
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"Telling *who* is the first order of business. What would you like to
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be known as, initiate?" interrupted Vampiress, and began tossing her object
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again, smiling.
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"You mean I'm in? Great!" yelled John...
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"Yes, well, we need your new name. Now." said Oblivion, and pulled back
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his cloak. John gasped as he saw the leader's unnatural, all-black eyes.
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"They say that you can see your own demise when you look into Oblivion,"
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uttered the giant, and then began chuckling, "and you also need an
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appropriate name."
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"How about..." began John.
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"How about Newbie?" laughed Vampiress.
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"Slowpoke?" grinned Iguana.
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John shot dark glares at the two. "I prefer... I prefer... how about
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Deathknight?"
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"Been used." grumbled Kidd-2.
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"Hmm... Visio... no, Phiberknight. That couldn't have been used."
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The group paused. "Very well, Phiberknight. Now it's time to go
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trashing and see if you pass the final initiation." elucidated Oblivion.
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getting.to.the.scene
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The long, thin needle of a vizcar spun silently at a breakneck pace
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through the streets and subterranean tunnel-magnet streets. At the
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Peatrix-Highland submagno intersection, the vehicle came to a swift stop and
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shot upwards through the vacuum-controlled release tunnel. In an instant,
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the vizcar was parked outside of the Peatrix dumps and the six inhabitants of
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the car were surveying the place.
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"This is the first time TPC has dumped their stuff at Peatrix. Weird."
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remarked Vampiress, still standing in an island of darkness in the lighted
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dump lot.
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"It's either important, dangerous, or..." broke off the tall leader,
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shifting within his trenchcoat.
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"...or Phiber here is full of it. We'll find out, I'm sure. Come on."
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laughed Iguana, joking, but with a glint of questioning in his obscure,
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mirrored sunglass covered eyes. With that, he began walking towards the
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shielded gates with a dull brown card appearing in his hand. The group
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followed in eager anticipation.
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carding.peatrix
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Iguana inserted the brown multi keycard into the input panel on the
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robotic GuardGate (tm) system which protected the dump from nightweasels and
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murderers eager to dispose of questionable items. With skilled hands, the
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expert Iguana drew the end of an alligator clip from his trenchcoat to
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connect to the card. With a flip of some switch on the inside pocket, the
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card's color melted from brown to bright silver for a split second, and then
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died down.
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"Go! It's recalibrating for 5 seconds!" Iguana gasped, and hurriedly
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moved his hands toward the keycard and wire. With a yank, he pulled the card
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and leaped through the gate...
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trash.and.run
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"Phiber said it was in 5-C, so where is it?" Vampiress questioned,
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pouting at Oblivion, who responded with a feeble shrug and glance around.
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"Where is Phiber, anywa--" Butler began. His arms flew up in
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midsentence as the air suddenly became ionized and his speech halted.
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Vampiress spun around to face him.
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"What the hell...?" she uttered. Butler's gray eyes suddenly shot a
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blinding white light, and his cranium ruptured, falling apart in a
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disintegration that was both disgusting and fascinating at the same time.
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carding.peatrix.with.lack-of-agility
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Iguana's trenchcoat belt made a sizzling hiss as the gate's shielding
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system closed in mid-leap. In one last train of thought, he wondered why no
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one was screaming or running towards him.
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trash.and.run.accidental.sniper.fire
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"Oh my God! Oh--oh--" John stuttered, and dropped the glowing yellow
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gunlike piece of machinery. "I--I didn't mean to...ah--"
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Vampiress frowned at him. "What in the...augh! How could you...holy
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shit!" Oblivion snatched the weapon up from the ground.
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"Where in the hell did you get this from? Damnit, answer me!" With no
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answer forthcoming, Oblivion disgustedly threw the weapon in John's face.
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A scream erupted from the air. Kidd-2 stood above the diagonal top half
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of Iguana, which was saudered shut from the other part. A silent scream was
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etched on Kidd's face.
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"Damn. Damn. What the hell else could go wrong? There isn't even
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anything worth TAKING here! What the hell kind of sick joke is this, John!?"
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screamed Oblivion, his cloak slipping back to reveal his placid black eyes
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flaring to red. Vampiress and Kidd-2 stood behind him, seething.
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"Nuke 'em," whispered John, who pushed a button on his belt and backed up.
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trash.and.run.assassination
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Three screams erupted as targeted ion fire ripped through the chests of
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the members and transmogrified them from living matter to nonliving bone and
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dust.
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telco.revealed
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"Superb job, John. If you can just take out more hack groups, we can
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officially put you on the salary roll! Welcome to the phone company,
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Assassin John!" smiled the department head, shaking John's hand all the
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while.
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The Presents of Satan
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"I think that I shall play a prank upon the world," thought Loki as he
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pulled from a long hookah pipe and lazed back upon his fiery burgundy
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steel throne, smiling in a manner that suggested evil but hinted at
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mockery. As if on cue, two wisps of thin, heavy smoke erupted from the
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circular brimstone areas surrounding Loki's throne, and in a split second,
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irregular blue faeries coalesced into existence, each flapping their
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wings wildly in an attempt to both remove the sticky goo surrounding them
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from the surface, and to clear the annoying, hazy smoke from their person.
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Loki smiled and leaned back even further in his chair. His left hand
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floated up to support his leaning head, and the right slowly arched out
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along the length of the chair arm. The imps spun around and dusted them-
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selves off, sensing their lord's impatience. "Lord Satan, we wish to
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have audience with you. There is a dire need for your assistance in the
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mortal realm; your despicable sibling has spread his poison there! Our
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entrance rates are dropping past the point of no return!"
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"Understandable," grinned the incarnate of evil, "but not an impasse. I
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have been scheming over a new plan this past century - do you remember my
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twin's entrance into the mortal realm?"
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The imps shrugged. "We suppose so - the baby Jes--"
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Loki coughed. "Anyway... when did he pull that trick? Winter? Yes...
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Again, anyway... I've devised a scheme. I'm going to call it Satanday,
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and it will involve the celebration of *my* entrance into the mortal
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realm. Clever, no?"
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"Actually, Liege, that seems rather... blatant, to tell the truth."
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"Blatant? Hmm... subtlety was never my strong suit, at least not in these
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eras... back in the beginning, though..."
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"Liege?"
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"Ah...right. How about calling it... hold on... I've got it --"
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"Yes, lord? Yes?"
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"Jesusday! Christday! Christmas! Yes! Christmas!"
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"CHRISTmas, sir?"
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"Yes, yes -- we can call it..."
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"...a celebration of your evil glory?"
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"No, no, you've got the wrong idea! We can call it -- a celebration of
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Christ's glory! That's it!"
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"And how would this benefit your liegeship, sir?"
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"Close-minded imps... can't you see? The marketing potential alone will
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push greed to the point of..."
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"We see! We see!"
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And thus was Christmas wrought from the fires of Hell. Demons and imps
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worked and toiled over the basal concept of it while the Assassin CEOs
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and Death Angel chairmen created a working marketing scheme - and then -
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the concept was leaked onto the mortal world, year by year.
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It started with spice...
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And continued with flowers...
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Then came structured practiced gift-giving...
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Eventually, the market was discovered...
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And finally, the ending stage of the plan was leaked, a concept known as
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"Power Rangers"... replicas of Satan's Warriors, on the shelves in
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stuffed form...
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Merry Christmas!
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|=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=|
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| _____ Call Goat Blowers Anonymous for the LATEST HOE! _____ |
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| 6/ ^..^ (215) 750 - 0392 ^..^ \9 |
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| \_____(oo) This Issues Featured Support Board is: (oo)_____/ |
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| WW WW Cha0s [GwD-Type-of-Board] WW WW |
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| (806) 797 - 7501 |
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| ...the kings of modern goofiness... |
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|=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=|
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Copyright (c) 1994 HoE Publications and Visioknight. #52 --> 02/04/95
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All rights Reserved.
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