430 lines
15 KiB
Plaintext
430 lines
15 KiB
Plaintext
s$
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$$ .d""b. .d""b. HOE E'ZINE #1070
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[-- $$""b. $$ $$ $$ $$ -- ------------------------------------------- --]
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$$ $$ $$ $$ $$ss$$ "History and Dem Black Boots"
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$$ $$ $$ $$ $$ by, Rhea
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$$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ 05/01/00
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[-- $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ -- ------------------------------------------- --]
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$$ $$ "TssT" "TssT"
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Black dem boots and make dem shine, good boy, and a good boy.
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Number One was a good Number One. When Number One came of age, Number
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One's momma said there'd be days like these.
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There'd be days like these, momma said. Momma said! Momma said!
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And in reply Number One looked up from blacking dem boots and
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making dem shine, and said, "Ohhhh momma... can this REALLY be the END?"
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Shut up, she said. Some things never end.
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"Like history?"
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Maybe... she said.
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But then, she was ugly. Couldn't forget that.
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Number One opened Number One's book to find out.
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***************************************************************************
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Number One: Shadows on the wall. Quiet. A cave? Maybe, but there's
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no fire here. And without fire, the shadows are so
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dim. So dim...so dim they're shapeless.Yeah, that's
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right, Plato, you heard me. Shapeless! Shapeless just
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like you and all the rest of history. I don't trust
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you, Plato. You see, here's my Great Idea all about it:
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philosophers innately begin with "p" and "h" and, as I
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stare at this wall, some dank, dusty phobia - just
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another irrational ph34r? -- inside me tells me to see
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past your phat phonetics and to realize that you're all
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just philandering phonies! So I don't think this will
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work out. I want you to leave now. Let me rest in
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peace! R.I.P that's me.
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The only thing I regret is that "fuck you" isn't "phuck
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you" because that would have phucking raised my
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cleverness in the above paragraph by at least 50
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points, don't you agree?
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Plato: Despite that annoying monologue, I'm not phased. So
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you're not impressed with my phlegm... so what? How
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about just a strictly platonic relationship, then?
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What do you say, Number One?
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Number One: Hey! What are you talking about! I'm not Number One!
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You're horribly mistaken! I'm not Number One. I'm not
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Number One. Look, watch me put on this scarf. This is
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Number Two's scarf!
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--PoOf!--
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--PoOf!--
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Number Two: There. Wait! Plato disappeared in a PoOf just as I
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appeared in one! Oh well. All a bunch of shit, anyway.
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My scarf is pretty. Pretty pretty pretty pretty. Five
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pretty's make me... Pretty, too!
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--PoOf!--
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Pretty: Me and you, Number Two. This is love, Number Two, I
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know it. I was nothing before you. I saw love in your
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eyes, and you gave me life. I was nothing before you!
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Empty! Unwhole! Nothing!
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Number Two: I know. Me too.
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Pretty: "Me too?"
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Number Two: I love you.
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Pretty: Good. Okay, now, let me tell you a secret: I know why
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the Greek and Roman gods fell. It had nothing to do
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with what you think. Nothing ever does!
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Number Two: Did it have to do with our - I mean my -- I mean your
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-- pretty scarf?
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Pretty: Yes! Aphrodite saw me wearing my scarf and died of
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jealousy. Then Zeus died of grief, and then all of
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Olympus died with him. It's the truth. See! Look!
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--PoOf!--
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The Truth: I am the truth! Look at me!
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Number Two: So _that's_ what the truth is. I know it was in me
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somewhere.
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The Truth: Shut up. It wasn't. The truth is... that there is no
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truth!
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--PoOf!--
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Number Two: Gone in a PoOf! First Plato, then The Truth. What a
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sad day this is.
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--PoOf!--
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Sad Day: I agree.
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Pretty: Think how much sadder it'd be without me! Lalala! I
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feel Pretty... oh, so Pretty... I feel Pretty and Witty
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and Gay!
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--PoOf!--
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Gay: Pretty, you fool! That's not your song! That's Natalie
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Wood's song, in her brilliant role as a modern Juliet.
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She was made-up wonderfully to be a beautiful P.R. You
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could barely tell she was White!
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Witty: She was a P.R. Juliet? How multi-cultural. Hahahahaha!
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Gay: Yes. Her make-up was sublime.
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--PoOf!--
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Witty: Hahahahaha! Of course it was. There's sublime now, in a
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PoOf, of course! How cliche. And Shakespeare's dust and
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bones. Hahaha!
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Sublime: Witty, it wasn't multi-cultural. And it wasn't
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sublime---
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--PoOf!--
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Number Two: Oh no! Another one gone! Oh no, oh, oh, no, oh, tears,
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tears, woe, woe!! Why oh why did Sublime negate himself
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like that? Why? Oh, Why! Oh, woe! Woe is me!
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--PoOf!--
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Woe: Woe are we.
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Number Two: Nothing will ever be Sublime again.
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Witty: Except the band! Hahahahaha!
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Gay: I still loved Natalie Wood's make-up. Her role will go
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down in history.
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Witty: ...history?
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Number Two: I thought it was rather stupid, myself.
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--PoOf!--
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Stupid: My existance is strange. After a PoOf, here I am. But
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why am I here?
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Witty: Because Number Two is stupid, of course.
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Stupid: What? I don't understand!
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Witty: Just another example of the white man's stupidity...
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hahaha!
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***************************************************************************
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Number One was making the corners of the page dirty. Black. Number
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One forgot to wipe all the shoe polish off his hands when he was blacking
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dem boots and making dem shine! Silly Number One!
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But still Number One marched on. Number One read on!
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Yes, after a brief delay, Number One was back. Number One had
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said,"I shall return!" and Number One was faithful to the history-making
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words just like any good history student should be, and Number One
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returned. Number One returned like Arnold Schwartzenegger with a Big Gun
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and a Red-White-And-Blue bandana. So powerful. Strong. Those Nips died
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hard, man! Just like any good enemy should.
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Meanwhile, back in History's other pages, free from shoepolish,
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things were as gray-and-white as ever. Grandmother was sitting on her
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chair on the wooden porch, rocking back and forth. Acres and acres of
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good ol' red-blooded American farm-land (bleeding bleeding all over!
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bleeding all over the sky, seeping into the red sunset, seeping bleeding
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seeping blee--just SCREAMING for a BANDAID but...)
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No. Not in this book. Somethings never end, said momma, and momma
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knew best.
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"A little salt will make that feel much better!" said Granny,
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holding up a box of "Good Ol' Days" salt proudly. She grinned a big,
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toothless grin at the camera.
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And now, at this, Number One really read on. It was a lie before,
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but not anymore.
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***************************************************************************
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Camera: Beautiful, just beautiful!
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Witty: You call that beautiful?!
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Stupid: Where did the camera come from? What about the PoOf?
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There was no PoOf for the camera! I don't understand.
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Camera: I'm always here, stupid. History has to be recorded,
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stupid.
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Pretty: You have to admit, Number Two - it was very pretty.
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Witty: No, Number Two! Don't listen! It wasn't!
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Number Two: I don't know what to think. I'm sorry!
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--PoOf!--
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Sorry: Maybe this will all make sense to us the second time
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through.
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Stupid: What?
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Camera: Shut up already! This is where the mood is set. This is
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where the mood is set. This where the.. Number Two sees
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shadows on the wall. Quiet. A cave? No, an island. The
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wall, the one with the dim shadows, is... a barrier.
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Gray. There are moans... shots... screams... blood...
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seeping everywhere...
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Number Two: Mariaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
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I just met a girl named Mariaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
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And suddenly I've found
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How wonderful a sound can beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
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Pretty: I'm not Maria. I'm pretty.
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Number Two: Don't spoil the song, love. It's my turn to sing. You
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had yours.
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Sorry: Sorry.
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Camera: The Sharks and the Jets were fighting again. Inner-city
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hoodlums, just dancing around and snapping in rhythm...
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Number Two was appalled. "I must tell Number One about
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the sorry state of our nation immediately!" thought
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Number Two. "But I can't see Number One anywhere, with
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this scarf on!"
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***************************************************************************
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History laughed. History knew. History knew!
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***************************************************************************
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Stupid: I ain't never gonna get smarter. I ain't never gonna get
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smarter!
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Camera: Against the wall on this island, shadowless, still, a
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girl said to Number Two quietly, "If my addiction was a
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person, I'd kill him."
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Number Two patted her shoulder in sympathy.
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The girl continued, without acknowledging this sorry
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excuse for sympathy coming from Number Two, who was
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just a sorry excuse for a person. History knew. History
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knew! The girl said, "It's not that I want him to die,
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but that I don't want him to love."
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Number Two blinked. "Love? Don't you mean live? It's not
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that you want him to die, but you don't want him to
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lIve?"
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The girl looked up vaguely. "Oh, right, right. I meant
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live."
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Witty: What a difference an I makes!
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Number Two: What a difference I make!
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Woe: Woe are we.
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Woe are we!
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Stupid: Why?
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Witty: Can't you see? It's right there, stupid!
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Camera: The Sharks and the Jets were tearing the true love
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between Pretty and Number Two apart with their hate and
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rage. The war raged on, spreading like the plague across
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little islands all over the Pacific. Death was coming.
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Death was coming! Pretty and Number Two didn't know
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what to do.
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Pretty: I love you I hate you I love you I hate you I want you
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I love you I hate you I need you I love you I hate you.
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Number Two: You're indecisive.
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--PoOf!--
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Indecisive: No, I'm pretty.
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--PoOf!--
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Pretty: See?
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Number Two: Yes.
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Camera: I hope they have sex soon.
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Number Two: But there's a war going on!
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Camera: All the more reason to cop-cop-copulate.
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Witty: Yeah! Hahahaha!
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Gay: Yes.
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Stupid: Yes!!
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Sad Day: Yeah.
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Sorry: Uh-huh.
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Pretty: Okay.
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***************************************************************************
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Granny was dying. Everyone knew it. She smiled her big toothless
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grins and sang and rocked in her chair but she was dying.
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Soon she'd be dead.
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Number One knew the Americans would win but Number One read on,
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anyway. But Number One thought about closing the book eventually...
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***************************************************************************
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Camera: So then all the dancers gathered in some strange set and
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fought. They had knives that glinted silver-white in the
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starry light of the lovers`eyes. Blood started seeping
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everywhere.
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Sad Day: What a sad day this is!
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Woe: Woe are we.
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Number Two: I was Number One once.
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Pretty: I was nothing without you, Number Two.
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Number Two: Yes, this is love!
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Camera: People were dying. The battle raged on. The blood seeped
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into the Pacific, and floated to all the islands blessed
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by the second Great War to make it into this history
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book.
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Stupid: Wait... this is a history book?
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All: Yes, stupid!
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Camera: ... Seeping everywhere... seeping seeping seeping...
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Number Two and Pretty ran around frantically, not
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knowing what to do, except have sex.
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Stupid: We're history?
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***************************************************************************
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Number One began closing the book. Number One hated predictable
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endings.
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***************************************************************************
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All: Yes!
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Stupid: Then we're DEAD! Dead! Dead! Dead!
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Number Two: ...but I don't want to die!
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Pretty: Me neither! I don't want to die!
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Witty: Me neither! I don't want to die!
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Gay: Me neither! I don't want to die!
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Sorry: Me neither! I don't want to die!
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Sad Day: Me neither! I don't want to die!
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Stupid: Too late.
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Woe: Oh, woe are we!
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***************************************************************************
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Number One closed the book.
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"But momma!" said Number One. "I don't want to die!"
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There'd be days like these, momma said.
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Momma said! Momma said!
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Are those boots black yet? asked momma. Do they shine?
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"Well..." said Number One.
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Black dem boots and make dem shine, good boy, and a good boy...
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***************************************************************************
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Plato: Hey! Where'd everyone go?
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Camera: _I'm_ still here.
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***************************************************************************
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Number One hated predictable endings, but... like momma said...
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Some things never end.
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[-------------------------------------------------------------------------]
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[ (c) HOE E'ZINE -- http://www.hoe.nu HOE #1070, BY RHEA - 5/1/00 ]
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