66 lines
3.0 KiB
Plaintext
66 lines
3.0 KiB
Plaintext
s$
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$$ .d""b. .d""b. HOE E'ZINE #1085
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[-- $$""b. $$ $$ $$ $$ -- ------------------------------------------- --]
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$$ $$ $$ $$ $$ss$$ "This Story is Completely Retarded"
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$$ $$ $$ $$ $$ by Kreid
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$$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ 05/21/00
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[-- $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ -- ------------------------------------------- --]
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$$ $$ "TssT" "TssT"
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The first time I saw Vlad, he was taking a walk in the woods behind
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rt. 80 in Hope. It was February, snowing, and he was wearing a T-Shirt; if
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this hadn't been the case, I probably wouldn't have looked in his
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direction. The shirt was white and it said "I'M NOT FAT I'M PREGNANT SO
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FUCK OFF" and the sleeves were ripped off.
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Now, I'm not the walk-in-the-woods type; I much prefer sidewalks and
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car horns. I was out there alone because of mushrooms, sitting around,
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leaving my body, and tearing bark off trees. Vlad, on the other hand, was
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just walking through the cold like he did every day. He lived in Hope in
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an abandoned tool shed of some sort. Of course, I didn't learn that until
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long after I shouted my greeting at him.
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"Hey fatass," I shouted. I was very nervous on account of the very
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intense mushrooms. "Hey you fat fuck, what are you doing out here in a
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T-Shirt?" I assumed he wouldn't be insulted because he wasn't really fat
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at all.
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He approached and stared at me for an eternity before answering. He
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was extremely skinny, malnourished-looking, even. His eyes were
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perpetually locked in a squint; it seemed like the sunlight was inflicting
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a great pain on his eyes, which I noted with some difficulty were blue. I
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started to talk at him again but he cut me off:
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"Well, I'm holding snow in my hands real tight and turning it into
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ice. Tonight I'm gonna make frozen margaritas. I was also pretending not
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to see you because you look like you wanna be left alone."
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"So uh by the way, why don't you put on a sweater?"
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"Do you have a sweater I could borrow?"
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"No."
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"Well neither do I and I'm not wearing a sweater cuz I don't."
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"I'm sorry. Uh, I feel weird. I'm tripping on mushrooms."
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"I can see that. You're also a really poor conversationalist, man.
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D'ya think you could get your car and drive me somewhere and buy me a
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hamburger?"
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For some reason, probably on account of the mushrooms, I really
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trusted that kid. He had a real honest face. Honest and hungry. "Just
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take my car keys and get one yourself. Here's five bucks."
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"Hey," said Vlad. "You're pretty cool. I live in that abandoned
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toolshed up there. When I get back we can smoke some grass and drink
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some frozen margaritas."
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That was the last time I ever saw Vlad and my car.
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"Let's feed ice cream to the rats, baby." - Jim Morrison
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[-------------------------------------------------------------------------]
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[ (c) HOE E'ZINE -- http://www.hoe.nu HOE #1085, BY KREID - 5/21/00 ]
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