120 lines
6.5 KiB
Plaintext
120 lines
6.5 KiB
Plaintext
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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #648
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`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8
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888 888 888 888 888 "Yellow Monster"
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888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8
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888 888 888 888 888 " by Rhea
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888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 5/17/99
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o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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A fly was buzzing in the corner. The buzzing sound above her head
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almost sounded louder than the bustle of the gray subway station. The
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fluorescent light above her which flickered a sickly yellow glow on her
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pale skin was buzzing too. The fly was flying in the corner towards the
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sickly yellow glowing light and then it flew right smack into it. The fly
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was flying. Fly was flying. Flew. Fly Flew. Was she sitting in a subway
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station or conjugating verbs? Both, she guessed.
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She laughed. The man hunched against the wall a few feet away
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turned and looked at her abruptly. His face was as wrinkled as the yellow
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newspapers he was sitting on. Was his skin that yellow or was it the
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fluorescent light shining on him? Both, she guessed. Maybe if you sat in
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this horrid station long enough the light would stain your skin, like
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newspapers in the sun, she thought. His face looked like a grape in the
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sun. A wrinkled raisin. Raisin man!
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She giggled again. A train pulled in quickly and loudly to the
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station. It was almost beautiful, she noticed, in its sleek, cold,
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metallic splendor. Sometimes it struck her as a monster with those thick
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bulletproof windows and thick beady eyes of the passengers staring blankly
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out at her. But today, it was a blessing, and when her train would finally
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come (delayed 10 minutes--10 years--10 lifetimes?) it would take her away
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from this ghastly station before her skin turned yellow.
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Why did some people think yellow was a happy color? Look at that
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homeless man -- yellow was sickness and depression and all that good stuff.
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The sun was yellow and the sun, she guessed, was a happy thing but in here
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the sun might as well not exist. Did it exist? Did she exist? This gray
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hole would never see real light, just that flickering fluorescent thing
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above her.
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She actually didn't mind it in here too much. She liked the way the
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floor rumbled when a train came in and out. Her work clothes were getting
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dirty on the cold dusty floor but she'd just be sitting all day once she
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got to the office anyway. Oh, she dreaded the coming of her train now.
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She hoped the train men would delay it forever. She wished the office
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didn't exist.
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Suddenly something shiny in her corner caught her eye. It was
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underneath a broken beer bottle and a hamburger wrapper and she almost
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hadn't seen it. She reached out her pale yellow arm to move away the
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trash, her long fingers picking up piece after piece of the broken bottle.
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Finally her fingers touched the shiny thing and she pulled it out and
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looked at it.
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Two fuzzy, dirty, blurred eyes looked back at her. It was a little
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mirror, bright and shiny despite its dirty surface. How long had it been
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in that corner? Certainly at least as long as she'd gotten the office job.
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Maybe longer. Maybe her lifetime. 10 lifetimes?
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It was so shiny and pretty! She imagined how nice it must look
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beneath the dirty surface, so she reached into her purse and pulled out her
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packet of tissues, with the blue plastic wrapping and "Kleenex" written in
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big white letters across it. She pulled out a soft white tissue and began
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wiping the surface of the mirror. The grime wasn't coming off, to her
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dismay. Soon she was wiping so furiously that the tissue ripped.
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"That won't work," said the old homeless man hoarsely. She looked
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at him through eyes blurred with tears and he gestured to the Kleenex in
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explanation.
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"Then what will?" she asked almost frantically.
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He laughed, slow throaty chuckles that shook his hunched shoulder
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and revealed stained teeth more yellow than the newspapers. "Damned if I
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know," he replied, still laughing.
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Another train pulled up, rumbling the ground beneath her feet. She
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groaned in disappointment, those horrible yellow numbers read 459. Her
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train, 459, that went to the office. Tears filled her eyes again, and she
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stood up, resigned.
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Many people in the station started walking towards the open doors of
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the train at once. There were big people, and small people, men and women.
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They looked like they knew what they wanted. They wanted to get on the
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train. She didn't even have that. But routine pulled her towards it, and
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her legs walked slowly to the door.
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"This sale will be great!" exclaimed a teenage girl to her friend.
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"All shoes are 30% off!"
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She looked at the pretty mirror in her hand. She did know what she
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wanted. She wanted to stay and try to get the mirror clean. Then those
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fuzzy blurred eyes would be so beautiful!
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No, she had to work, and she walked to the brightly lit train,
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already filled with people, feeling like the fly towards that sickly yellow
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ceiling light. She glanced once more towards the old man. The raisin man.
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He nodded at her, and she, filled with despair, stepped onto the train.
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Just as she reached the door, a big woman, arms filled with K-Mart
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bags, shoved her way past with a coarse, "Excuse me!"
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She was so startled from being pushed that the mirror fell out of her
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hand and tumbled to the ground outside of the door. She cried out and
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reached for it but the door had already started to close, shutting the
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mirror out of her life for who knows how much longer and now she was trapped
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in the monster. It had yellow carpet! She needed that mirror!
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"Stop! Stop the train!" she yelled frantically, but the computers
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that ran the train couldn't hear her. They didn't have ears. Not even
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yellow ones. The train rolled away towards the office, and she pressed her
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tearstained face against the thick glass windows and watched the mirror get
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smaller and smaller and smaller than a fly, until it was gone. She sat
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down in a plastic chair dejectedly. Soon the train stopped, and she got
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out with all the others, and went to work.
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #648 - WRITTEN BY: RHEA - 5/17/99 ]
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