75 lines
3.9 KiB
Plaintext
75 lines
3.9 KiB
Plaintext
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---------------------------- I Bleed for This? ------------------------------
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------11.26.94-----------------------------------------------------#031------
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Poetboy Goes to the Zoo
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by Snarfblat
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Poetboy arrived at the school with a smile on his face, for today was
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the day of the class field trip. They were going to the zoo. During the bus
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ride to the zoo, the teacher told them a few rules. "Now children, your
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visit to the zoo will be much more fun and educational if you follow these
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simple rules. One: Do not pet the animals. Two: Do not feed the animals.
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Three: If something says 'DO NOT TOUCH', don't FUCKING touch it!" At this
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point she pulled the glove off her left hand to reveal a scarred stump with
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the remains of two fingers dangling limply from it.
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When they got to the zoo, everybody except Poetboy went inside. Poetboy
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stayed on the bus and wrote a poem. Then he got off and looked for his
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class. He went into a building that looked like a zoo. Inside it, he saw
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long rows of cages with animals in them. Some of them were being fed by
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tubes because their mouths were sewn shut. Others were eating white-out with
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their eyes. Poetboy didn't know why there were so many rabbits in the zoo
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and no other animals. And he wasn't too sure if they enjoyed having their
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skin peeled off and being dunked in vats of perfume.
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He pulled out his notebook, sat down and wrote a poem.
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Oh, wee bunnies, how harsh is your plight!
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would that you could escape into the night
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your skin all peeled off, your mouth stapled shut
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needles in your eyes and a tube in your butt
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who will stop this mutilation?
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carry out your liberation?
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i'd love to help you, to save you all.
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every time i put on the damn radio there's nothing going down at all.
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Poetboy memorized this poem, then rolled it up and smoked it.
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At this point, the teacher led the rest of the class into the building full
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of bunnies. "Class, this is where the bad animals go. It is called the
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Gilette Product Testing Facility. Dangerous chemicals are poured onto their
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raw, exposed endoskeletons, so that the products can be made safe for
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humans."
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One little girl, named Sarah, spoke up. "Teacher, why don't they test these
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chemicals on people?"
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"Good point. Most of you are essential workers. But Poetboy over there,
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he's just writing poems and smoking them. He contributes nothing to the
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group as a whole. Let's mess him up!"
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The class, led by their teacher, attacked Poetboy and tied him up. Then they
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shot him. Then they skinned him. They drew a graph on his raw, exposed
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endoskeleton and numbered each sector, then poured a different toxic chemical
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on each one. Some of the sectors bubbled and frothed; others turned red,
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others black and crusty. Poetboy's tongue (Area #42) was dipped in a vat of
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pure, concentrated Yellow #5, which worked its way up into his mouth,
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spreading slowly throughout his whole body. He crumpled to the ground, a
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skinless jaundiced pulp. A pack of wild dogs launched themselves onto his
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back and bit off his hands. They ripped the muscles away from his spine, and
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with the help of Poeyboy's teacher, disconected it at the base of his brain
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and pulled it backwards. By now he was pretty dead. The last thing he was
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conscious of was his eyes being eaten out by newts. Then he lapsed into a
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pain-induced coma.
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His songs never again smudged the air.
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==============================================================================
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IBFT: If we hate you, you don't deserve to know why.
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Information:
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bleed@unix.amherst.edu
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ftp.etext.org:/pub/Zines/IBFT The Eleventh Hour (617)696-3146
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==============================================================================
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