137 lines
7.8 KiB
Plaintext
137 lines
7.8 KiB
Plaintext
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$$$$$$$$$$$
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$$$$$$$$$$$ hogz of entropy #214
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$$$$$P $$$$ $$$$ moo, oink, up your butt.
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$$$$P $$$$ x$$$$
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$$$P $$$$ xP$$$$ d$$$$$$$$$$$.
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$$$. $$$$xP $$$$ $$$$$$' >$$$$
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$$$$$$$$$. $$$$P $$$$ 4$$$$$. .$$$$'
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$$$$'`4$$$b. $$$$ $$$$ 4$$$$$$$$$P'
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$$$$b 4$$$$b. $$$$$$$$$$$ 4$$$< %%
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$$$$$b 4$$$$$x $$$$$$$$$$$ 4$$$$$$$$$ %%
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>> "Two Short Stories" <<
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by -> ANdz0oey
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1. _Walking Home_
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standing outside of school and waiting for some kid to pull out his
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knife and just slash open your stomach, yeah, i would feel the same way,
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even though the kid wasn't brandishing a knife at that moment, his hands
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were just in his pockets. he was walking with me, telling me about his GTX
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bike. i didn't want to talk to the kid; i would've rather just strolled
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home by myself. he was short, with a pretend smile that showed that he
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wasn't someone to let you go without some kind of confrontation. it wasn't
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so much what he looked like; he was pretty short, but it was just that
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smile. He hated me, and i didn't know why. He said i was a dork, a nerd,
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you know, because i was smart and everything. The thing was, this kid was
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smart too.
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school was always over at two-forty, and it took about twenty minutes
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to walk home. the day we were hopping along, the two of us, he was still
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telling me about this bike of his. we were on the macadam lot adjacent to
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the church, which we had to cross to get to our housing development. i
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always felt like shit whenever i walked home, because i knew that the kid
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would eventually have to say something mean to me. with some guys, it's all
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right when you're alone with them; they won't make fun of you because no one
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is around for them to show off for. this kid wasn't like that, not in any
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way.
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it was spring, although you couldn't tell, it seemed more like
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summer. the sky was still cloudy gray after it had rained the night before,
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and the gravel we usually kick when we're walking along was washed away
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somewhere. we got to the tiny patch of grass between the lot and the little
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road that winds by the development, and the kid stopped to tie his shoe. i
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didn't know if i should stay or what, because it looks kind of stupid when a
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person is waiting for another person to tie his shoe. i waited, though,
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because it would have probably looked worse if i ended up walking home
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alone, without anybody to talk to.
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the development was pretty crowded; all of the houses were bunched up
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together on this tiny road. the sidewalk was darker than usual, on account
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of the rain, and all of the trash cans were out because it was trash day.
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you could tell who put out their trash can the night before, because some
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rain would still be on the lid. i knew that when i got home my can would be
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dry as hell. i never could remember to take the trash out.
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all this while, the kid hadn't said anything to me. it was just us
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two walking along, side by side, with no conversation whatsoever. i was
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still afraid he was going to say something, anything, about me or my mom or
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something else, but i was sort of relieved, because i was already halfway
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home. i didn't feel that bad, either, because i usually expect to be
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ridiculed on the way home, and nothing at all had happened yet. once in a
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while, we'd kick a trash can or something like that, and maybe some old lady
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would yell at us, telling us that we were disgracing our Catholic school
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uniforms. we were, but nobody can expect a person to walk idly by when a
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plastic receptacle is in their way. some things are just made for people to
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kick, especially stones and trash cans.
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the kid's house was coming up now. we both hated each other, but i
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guess we were friends or something like that. so the kid invites me over to
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his mailbox. "Look at this," he says.
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"What?" it was a bike magazine. he was holding it, looking at the
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ads.
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"I'm gonna get those hydraulics."
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"Yeah, fuck you." i walked the rest of the way home by myself.
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---
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2. _Me Vs. God_
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she mumbled something like "I'll pray to you," or maybe it went a
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little differently (because the words she spoke just don't make sense the
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way i remember them). it didn't make me feel one bit better, anyway. i
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hung the telephone up exactly the way i would've if i were mad, you know,
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slamming it as if that was the best way i could express my emotions, and
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desiring that the person on the other end would feel every drop of the rage
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that filled me. we didn't speak together for long; her friends were calling
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every five minutes trying to cheer her up. (i was probably more depressing
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than most others, hence the brief, silent conversation we shared.) she
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wanted me to come to the funeral, but i hoped that she needed me there. (i
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tend to act selfish at the worst imaginable moments.)
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her sister had died earlier in the morning, and it was later in the
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night now, a small bit rainy. it didn't matter how it was outside,
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anyway -- my room was void of light, still i didn't feel like turning on any
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of the three lamps that were usually glowing brightly at this time. so i
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was sitting on a pillow with lots on my mind, and i had to be crying. the
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thing was, i didn't feel sad at all, just very angry. i hated God, hated
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everything that He had done, and refused to accept what He had in store for
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all of us. my faith wasn't something that i had questioned before; it was
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like "here's God, He reminds me of Santa Claus, and maybe if i pray to Him
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every day he'll give me some presents." (God is good to those who are nice
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to Him.) but immature answers didn't work in the present state of my life,
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so why bother to believe at all? i would've felt better if God was one big
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fucking lie, but the truth of his existence made it so much worse...yeah,
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here's something intangible that you blindly believe in that's supposed to
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be just and fair and peaceful and then, without a concrete reason, this God
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of ours goes and kills indiscriminately. maybe there's something better
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after life, but for the happiness of one soul, we must pay a fortune with
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the torment of those who have been left behind. like me.
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i lifted myself off of the floor and cried a little more. it was
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very late, yet i didn't feel much like falling asleep. i wanted to accept
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things...but everything was so difficult. It's just that whenever people
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are confused, i try really hard to clear everything up, spotless as a
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crystal-clean lake, no matter how stupid or badly constructed my explanation
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is. maybe God wasn't like me...still, i wanted to feel better; consolation
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was as essential to me as to those who truly needed it. but it's not like
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the Bible has any moment of help for anyone. (i mean, half the goddamn book
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is some story about an anguished farmer or maybe a psalm about how good the
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king is to all of his subjects - lots of guidance, right?) so i just stood
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and wept. not sure of anything anymore, i thought maybe i'd give up and go
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to sleep. my head hit the wall as my body fell back. i looked in the
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spotty mirror that had been hanging in the corner for so long, just to see
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if i was allright or not. The glass surface didn't reveal much; there
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wasn't any kind of deity staring back at me, offering His hope...just a
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tear-stained face wishing that everything didn't have to be so fucking
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complicated.
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----------------------------------------------------------------------------
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* (c) HoE publications. HoE #214 -- written by ANdz0oey -- 3/15/98 *
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