725 lines
28 KiB
Plaintext
725 lines
28 KiB
Plaintext
=================================================================
|
||
=================================================================
|
||
|
||
P R O P A G A N D A U N L I M I T E D
|
||
|
||
December 28, 1994 Volume One, Issue Eight
|
||
|
||
"More Fun Than You Can Have In Zed's Basement!"
|
||
|
||
=================================================================
|
||
=================================================================
|
||
|
||
CONTENTS
|
||
--------
|
||
|
||
1. Introduction to Issue #8
|
||
by Constantine
|
||
|
||
2. Propaganda by Mail
|
||
|
||
3. Black Plague, Part One
|
||
by Malakai
|
||
|
||
4. Fear and Loathing in Cyberspace, Part Eight
|
||
by Constantine
|
||
|
||
5. Part, Eight Dystropia
|
||
by Midget Caesar
|
||
|
||
6. Poetry Roundup
|
||
by Psychotic Ambition
|
||
|
||
7. Coming Attractions and Distribution
|
||
|
||
================================================================
|
||
================================================================
|
||
|
||
STAFF
|
||
-----
|
||
|
||
Midget Caesar.......... Pumpkin, Head Writer
|
||
|
||
Constantine............ Honey-Bunny, Head Editor.
|
||
|
||
Oregano................ Le Big Mac, Evanston
|
||
Correspondant.
|
||
|
||
Nyarlathotep........... Royale with Cheese, Indiana
|
||
Correspondant.
|
||
|
||
Newt................... Had the Briefcase,
|
||
Writing Staff.
|
||
|
||
Aquarius............... Has the Briefcase, Writing Staff.
|
||
|
||
Psychotic Ambition..... Doesn't Care What's in the Briefcase, Writing
|
||
Staff.
|
||
|
||
Comrade Slash.......... Doesn't like Quentin Tarentino Anyway, Writing Staff.
|
||
|
||
Malakai................ Mrs. Mia Wallace, Writing Staff.
|
||
|
||
Platinum Ego........... (Expletive Deleted), Writing Staff.
|
||
|
||
Dr. Fig................ Just Dr. Fig, Writing Staff.
|
||
|
||
and, of course...
|
||
|
||
Two Fish............... Bad-Ass Motherfucker.
|
||
|
||
=====================================================================
|
||
=====================================================================
|
||
|
||
Intoduction to Issue Eight
|
||
by Constantine
|
||
|
||
Hello, and welcome to issue eight of Propaganda Unlimited: new, improved,
|
||
and only half a month behind schedule this time. Our world headquarters has
|
||
moved to the scenic Club Evermore (312.476.1508), where the music is loud,
|
||
the drinks are strong, and reality is optional.
|
||
|
||
Actually, we haven't "completed" the move, per se; everything is sealed up
|
||
in cardboard boxes, and since everybody on staff developed serious back
|
||
trouble the second we got here, this entire issue has been composed on a
|
||
spare TRS-80 we found out bac k. Our only alternative was doing it on a
|
||
Pentium, but I wanted to use the more powerful machine. The TRS-80, after
|
||
all, can do basic division.
|
||
|
||
Before I turn the issue over to our monthly roundup of lunacy, a bit of news:
|
||
this issue will be my last as editor of Propaganda Unlimited. Outside
|
||
concerns (food, rent, a life) have made it impossible for me to meet my
|
||
deadline commitments and get these issues out in time. So, starting next
|
||
issue, Midget Caesar will be helming the magazine and making sure that your
|
||
every dose of PU is a timely and potent one. I will still be writing
|
||
regularly, and Fear and Loathing will continue indefinitely-- and you
|
||
thought you'd escaped.
|
||
|
||
And now, on with the show!
|
||
|
||
=====================================================================
|
||
=====================================================================
|
||
|
||
Propaganda By Mail!
|
||
|
||
Your personal propaganda missives can be directed to our mailbox
|
||
at PULETTERS@AOL.COM. This week brings two letters, one scathing
|
||
and the other a mild irritant. You guess which is which.
|
||
|
||
---
|
||
Subj: moo
|
||
From: chucks@chinet.chinet.com
|
||
|
||
I'd just like to say that PU is a total rip-off of MaDCaP and you should all
|
||
get gangrene and DIE.
|
||
|
||
-chuck
|
||
|
||
[Editor's Note: Chuck, you silly little shit. If PU was going to rip
|
||
someone off, don't you think we'd rip off people with TALENT? We rip
|
||
off the BEST, and you simply don't qualify. Ta-ta.]
|
||
---
|
||
Subj: a letter, darnit, what else?? :)
|
||
From: Two Fish
|
||
|
||
Dear messrs. Constantine & Midget Caesar:
|
||
|
||
I've got a couple of points to make about issue five of PU.
|
||
|
||
First of all, you can't fool me--it's pretty plain to see that this was
|
||
ACTUALLY issue # SEVEN (7), and NOT five as your masthead so brazenly
|
||
claimed. Being not only the Arbiter of All That is Cool, but ALSO (and,
|
||
might I add, much more importantly) the _Arbiter of Truth_, I feel it is my
|
||
sworn duty to inform the masses (gelatinous, congealed, or otherwise) of your
|
||
hopefully unintentional and therefore unfortunate blunder. For shame, boys!
|
||
If you had named the issue the SECOND issue #5, well, than THAT would have
|
||
been different. But you didn't, and that is irresponsible. Have you thought
|
||
of how the poor souls reading PU reacted when downloading this issue? How
|
||
disjointed they all must have felt by seeing issue five come out immediately
|
||
AFTER issue six (6) and exactly two issues after the REAL number five?
|
||
|
||
I'm sorry. I really don't mean to come down on you. Honest. After all,
|
||
you're doing a fine job with PU, and I wouldn't have it any other way. It's
|
||
just that I expected better of you than the blatant disregard you displayed
|
||
with the issue-# foul-up. But that can't be fixed now. I'm just doing my
|
||
duty by clearing up the discrepancy. No hard feelings, guys? :) Thanks!
|
||
|
||
Anyway, point # two (2):
|
||
|
||
re: Aquarius' Joke Corner. All I can say is, BRILLIANT!! What a talent
|
||
that young person is, and what a fine job you all did in discovering him.
|
||
Keep this feature, please. Oh, and if I may indulge in my own foray into
|
||
humor...?? Thank you. Okay, here goes.
|
||
Why'd the monkey fall out of the tree?
|
||
'cause it was DEAD!
|
||
|
||
How's that? (Don't worry, Aquarius, it's the only joke I know. You need not
|
||
fear me intruding upon your sacred joke-telling ground, believe you me! ;) )
|
||
|
||
Okay, well, that's about it. Constantine, keep the flows tapping. And until
|
||
Midget Caesar turns into a WaReZ />00d and becomes a devout follower of Joe
|
||
Fred Foster, make mine Marv--- oops! I mean Propaganda Unltd.!!!
|
||
|
||
The Arbiter of Truth and All That is Cool,
|
||
Two Fish
|
||
See ya 'round! ;)
|
||
|
||
[Editor's Note: You know it's a sad month when Two Fish will only
|
||
communicate with the home office via email. He usually prefers notes
|
||
tied to rocks and letter-bombs. At any rate, responsibility for the
|
||
issue numbering foulup belongs to me. Until I find someone I can
|
||
pin it on.]
|
||
|
||
=====================================================================
|
||
=====================================================================
|
||
|
||
The Black Plague
|
||
by Malakai
|
||
|
||
Mikoun once was a great explorer and a great hero, but he has now
|
||
slowed down his living. He lived in the castle of King Arenthas of the city
|
||
of Nalevin in the south near the Great Waste, a vast desert which many
|
||
venture into but very few return. He was held in high regard amungst the
|
||
people of Nalevin, for he led the small band which stopped the bandits of
|
||
the area, who called themselves, The Black Plague. The band had recently
|
||
gained a new leader, an eight foot tall, muscular, yet brilliant giant of a
|
||
man who was rumored to be the spawn of Satan himself. Promised the throne
|
||
after the king's death, Mikoun decided to settle down in Nalevin, leaving
|
||
his adventuring past and adventuring friends behind. But always watching
|
||
Mikoun for a time to kill him, was Arenthas's jealous son, Landolin.
|
||
|
||
This is the story of Mikoun's fight with the Black Plague. Mikoun's
|
||
group consisted of a few of his friends which he met on his many adventures
|
||
through out the lands. Mikoun's best friend, whom he saved from a prejudiced
|
||
mob many years before, was the only one who could rival him in the sword as
|
||
well as in brains, 'Nym by name' as Nym would often say. Nym was a black
|
||
skinned human from the Northern steppe, a race whose brutality has left them
|
||
with a large black mark on thier reputation. Then there was Feinam, once a
|
||
practiced rogue, but was defeated in a duel by Mikoun years before and turned
|
||
to a life of good, using her skills for the good of mankind. Then there was
|
||
Saychen, a friend of Mikoun's from childhood, but they had grown distant,
|
||
mainly because Saychen LOVED to play pranks, though he was pure of heart, he
|
||
was mischevious. The strange thing about Saychen were the powers in which he
|
||
possessed, his mind was extremely advanced, for what reason, that is not
|
||
known, but he has the power of magic in his mind, and his eyes reflect that,
|
||
pure white with no pupils, but he is not blind. Then there is Amber, a young
|
||
and beautiful priestess who started travelling with Mikoun not too long ago,
|
||
she wished to learn the cruelty, as well as the love, of the world. Mikoun
|
||
could not turn her down, so she's been with ever since. Finally, there were
|
||
the twin midgets, Kenami and Ruun. They were opposites of each other, both
|
||
good, but one used magic of making illusions, this was Kenami, the other used
|
||
a magic of hiding reality. Mikoun met these two in a forest west of the Great
|
||
Ocean, where they were captured by a few semi-intelligent carnivores.
|
||
|
||
Mikoun and his friends were riding on horseback down the long trek
|
||
south to the city of Nalevin, which was quite a distance from Beikos, the
|
||
city in which they were in, which is rather near the swamps. Earlier that
|
||
week they decided to go to Nalevin, because Beikos had grown, well, boring.
|
||
So as they were trotting along, Nym heard the clopping of hooves (besides
|
||
thiers) and decided to tell everyone. "Prehaps Feinam and I should stay
|
||
behind about a minute to prevent an ambush of sorts," Nym suggested with his
|
||
usual suggestive tone. Mikoun nodded to Nym, and continued by saying, "I
|
||
will go ahead then, I shall see if those in front are headed for Nalevin,
|
||
after all, better to travel in groups! Come on people, I will see what they
|
||
are about." Mikoun finished his sentence and sped his horse ahead with no
|
||
delay.
|
||
|
||
A short travel of a minute or so led Mikoun to a row of armed and
|
||
lightly armored horsemen. They advanced, with a large man in front who wore
|
||
the skull of an animal, apparantly a bear, on his head as a helmet, the
|
||
bulge of muscles showed under his black chainmail, and a ray of light gleamed
|
||
off the 2 handed hilt of a very long bladed sword. The man stopped a short
|
||
distance in front of the others, and Mikoun promptly stopped his horse a good
|
||
distance in front of the 8 foot tall man. After a short pause, Mikoun decided
|
||
to speak first, "Hello there, horsemen, are you, perchance, headed for
|
||
Nalevin?" The man's only response was a cruel smile and a raise of his left
|
||
arm. At this, the men dismounted from thier horses and they drew thier
|
||
swords.
|
||
|
||
Mikoun kept a calm look as he dismounted and drew his two beautiful
|
||
rapiers and in a concerned voice he said, "I have no wish to harm you,
|
||
please, sheathe your weapons."
|
||
|
||
Again, the reponse was a violent one, they charged with thier
|
||
swords poised, outward and ready to strike. Mikoun ducked under a couple
|
||
swings and lept over another. He then countered with a forward lunge and a
|
||
feint, finally a stab which pierced one of the horsemen's neck all through.
|
||
At this, the man spoke something which Mikoun could not understand, and then
|
||
men moved away. Mikoun pulled away in defense, expecting something dangerous,
|
||
then the giant man dismounted, and pulled out the sword at his side, and
|
||
grinned evilly at Mikoun as he advanced toward the crowd.
|
||
|
||
-- To be Continued! --
|
||
|
||
=====================================================================
|
||
=====================================================================
|
||
|
||
Fear and Loathing in Cyberspace, Part Eight:
|
||
This is REALLY Gonna Hurt...
|
||
(Part Three of the Dystropia/Fear and Loathing Crossover!)
|
||
|
||
|
||
I dove into the portal of inky black, my senses submerged in a whirlpool of
|
||
sights and sounds beyond imagination, beyond comprehension. I was subjected
|
||
to a vision of nightmare, morbid obscenities from beyond the wall of space
|
||
and time gibbering madly around me, disgusting atrocities that should never
|
||
have been born flapping and squawking in an insane cacophony.
|
||
|
||
Reminded me a little of Congress.
|
||
|
||
Then I was propelled through the other side of the interdimensional portal,
|
||
the smell of beer nuts and cheap silicone assaulting my nostrils as I flew
|
||
across a dimly-lit room to hit the grimy floor with a dull thud. Dazed, I
|
||
rolled onto my back and squinted at the harsh neon lights above, my vision
|
||
swimming. A myriad of faces appeared above me, short kids in Megadeth t-
|
||
shirts and coke-bottle glasses who looked down upon me with eyes of burning
|
||
hatred.
|
||
|
||
"Oh, shit," I muttered, "Warez geeks. Why don't you little fu--"
|
||
|
||
After they beat the living hell out of me, I slowly came to consciousness in
|
||
a dank back room, lit by a single dangling bulb. A tarnished sign over the
|
||
door read "File Library #458 -- Farm Animal GIFs". I was tied to a chair.
|
||
This worried me.
|
||
|
||
"Excuse me," said the man tied to the chair beside me, "Are you--"
|
||
|
||
"Yes," I said. "Yes, I am."
|
||
|
||
"I'm Floyd," he said, "I'm here to rescue you."
|
||
|
||
"Really? Great. You can start any time now."
|
||
|
||
The door swung open and Joe Fred Foster, flanked by his second-grade
|
||
disciples, swaggered into the room. The kid could swagger like nobody's
|
||
business.
|
||
|
||
"Ha! So, you thought you could defeat the invincible forces of (PeNiS!), did
|
||
you? Think again! Even now, your beloved "reality" is on its way-- to our
|
||
clutches! Muahaha!"
|
||
|
||
"YOU have reality? How the hell did you get it?"
|
||
|
||
"Shortly after it escaped the courtroom in Dystropia, Reality hid itself
|
||
inside a Granny Smith personal computer notepad belonging to some lawyer
|
||
named Darius-- a personal computer notepad that WE have the access code for!"
|
||
|
||
"No, you can't mean--"
|
||
|
||
"Yes!"
|
||
|
||
"No!"
|
||
|
||
"Yes!" he cried with evil glee, "WE'RE DOWNLOADING REALITY!"
|
||
|
||
"Wait a second," I said, "What's the speed of your fastest modem?"
|
||
|
||
"Are you kidding? (PeNiS!) possesses the most powerful hardwarez known to
|
||
man! We're running an 8088 with a heathkit 150 baud modem-- I built it
|
||
myself."
|
||
|
||
I groaned and slumped back in my chair, as Floyd turned to look at me.
|
||
"Constantine, I know I haven't been here long, but is everyone in your
|
||
dimension this stupid?"
|
||
|
||
Reality would be hovering between Dystropia and Cyberspace for the next 12
|
||
billion years, barring a system crash or power outage. These (PeNiS!)-heads
|
||
had to be stopped.
|
||
|
||
"I'll dispose of you two later," Joe Fred Foster laughed, "But right now, I
|
||
have a universe to conquer-- and a new copy of Little People Farm III!" He
|
||
swaggered out the door, goons in tow.
|
||
|
||
"That's it. We're dead."
|
||
|
||
"Actually," Floyd said as he jumped up from his chair and started untying my
|
||
ropes, "Fifteen years spent among the indigenous tribes of the Rubberobandes
|
||
Mountains left me with astounding abilities of bodily control on the
|
||
molecular level, thus allowing me to slip these bonds easily."
|
||
|
||
"That's swell," I said, running to the door, "Bet you're popular with the
|
||
ladies. But now we need to figure out how to get past this locked door,
|
||
and--"
|
||
|
||
It opened at my touch. They had forgotten to lock it. Normally I can't
|
||
stand incompetance, but in this case I decided to make an exception. We
|
||
stepped out into the darkened antechamber beyond, and Floyd halted me with a
|
||
wave of his hand.
|
||
|
||
"Careful," he whispered, "I smell a trap."
|
||
|
||
"How right you are!" cackled a high-pitched voice from the darkness. A young
|
||
boy of about ten years old stepped from the shadows before us, attired in
|
||
G.I. Joe Underoos and carrying a plastic zap-rifle.
|
||
|
||
"Who the hell are you?" I said, "Macaulay Culkin's evil twin?"
|
||
|
||
"I am the bane of your soon-to-be-ended existance! I am the ElYtE warrior of
|
||
the (PeNiS!) legions! I am... TIME WARRIOR!"
|
||
|
||
"Yeah. I'm scared, kid. Now, you wanna show us where the master control
|
||
room is, or do I take that cap gun and shove it up your--"
|
||
|
||
From the shadows behind us emerged another small figure, identical to the
|
||
first! He leveled his rifle at us and said, "If you mess with him, you mess
|
||
with me! I'm Time Warrior's dad!"
|
||
|
||
We spun around as two more stepped from alcoves. "I'm Time Warrior's
|
||
brother!" "I'm Metalhea-- I mean, Time Warrior's best friend!"
|
||
|
||
In no time we were beset by a flock of Time Warriors, a sea of them
|
||
surrounding us with no end in sight. Time Warrior's friends, enemies, lovers
|
||
and extended family declared themselves one at a time as they came out of the
|
||
woodwork, every one taking aim at us. I looked over to Floyd.
|
||
|
||
"Um... That rescue thing you mentioned earlier?"
|
||
|
||
"I'm working on it."
|
||
|
||
"Work faster."
|
||
|
||
|
||
TO BE CONTINUED...
|
||
|
||
Watch for Fear and Loathing in Cyberspace Part Nine,
|
||
James Earl Jones buys Comfortable Shoes!
|
||
|
||
=====================================================================
|
||
=====================================================================
|
||
|
||
Fear And Lotion in Dystropia Part Omega:
|
||
At Last, The Thesis Sentence.
|
||
by Midget Caesar
|
||
|
||
"And I'm Time Warrior's proctologist!", declared yet another being who
|
||
looked remarkably like Time Warrior, down to the Underoos. I had lost count
|
||
by the time Time Warrior's entire soccer team had showed up, each also
|
||
bearing an identical resemblance.
|
||
|
||
"Yes, apparently, you did smell a trap," said Constantine. "Now will you
|
||
please go about this rescue business soon?"
|
||
|
||
I was forced to admit that I was wrong. "Actually, it wasn't a trap I
|
||
smelled, Time Warrior just needs to change his Underoos. It was a lucky guess
|
||
about the trap." I didn't want to admit that I hadn't been able to find the
|
||
script to this whole thing, and thus couldn't slip through a hole in the
|
||
plot.
|
||
|
||
Constantine and I were backed against the wall, an unceasing multitude of
|
||
voices announcing new arrivals from Time Warrior's extended family. I
|
||
needed a plot device, and I needed it quick.
|
||
|
||
To stall for time, Constantine asked Time Warrior WHY he was doing this.
|
||
|
||
"Why??? I'M ON A MISSION FROM GOD!!!!!" was his manic reply, as the
|
||
crowd advanced closer.
|
||
|
||
"Gee, that's nice. Why is God mad at us? Just because our respective
|
||
writers haven't been returning HIS calls either doesn't mean --"
|
||
|
||
"And because you hate me!!1! You're talking about me right now! I know
|
||
it! You were making fun of me in secret!!1! And you tried to crash my BBS
|
||
when it wasn't up yet! and....and....you don't LIKE me!"
|
||
|
||
So we were backed into the corner. Constantine tried offering Time
|
||
Warrior copies of something called "Mortal Kombat" with various numbers
|
||
after it, but Time Warrior was not to be swayed. That's when I found the
|
||
plot hole we needed.
|
||
|
||
Constantine turned to me. "What is that awful noise?" Then he saw, and
|
||
a look of shock passed over his face, which was nothing compared to the look
|
||
seen on the legions of Time Warriors.
|
||
|
||
"Yes, Time Warrior, those are all the chickens whose heads you've bitten
|
||
off, all the monkeys you've ever spanked, all the farm animals you've ever
|
||
abused - come back from the grave to enact their revenge."
|
||
|
||
When the thousands of Time Warriors had fled in utter fear, only one
|
||
was left, who thretened to see us in the future and shouted something Polish:
|
||
"Dobermanpuppychewzee!" it sounded like. Then he ran like hell, and we were
|
||
left to confront the PeNiS boys and the reality question.
|
||
|
||
We cautiously walked out into the dimly lit main room, to the shock of
|
||
the bartender, Lord Darkly Lit Abysz. Joe Fred Foster and his disciples were
|
||
nowhere to be seen. Constantine went over to ask Mr. Abysz a few questions,
|
||
and asked me to cover him as he went. So I went out into the middle of the
|
||
bar and showed the patrons what a great breakdancer I am. Constantine
|
||
demanded to know where the PeNiS people were hiding, and Lord Darkly Lit
|
||
Abysz informed him nervously that he had insufficient access for it.
|
||
Constantine whipped out one of those unpleasant virus things and told
|
||
Mr. Abysz to consider the virus an access raise. We were shown our way into
|
||
a seedy looking back room marked "oCCuLT teXTZ!!!", and there they were: the
|
||
Bee Gees. The door was locked behind us, and a demonic voice gloatingly told
|
||
us that we were trapped. Strobe lights flashed on, the disco ball descended,
|
||
the Jive Talkin' began, and I flung myself against the wall, ready for
|
||
certain death.
|
||
|
||
"Wow, that's a pretty catchy tune", said Constantine. I looked up from
|
||
my convulsions, and was amazed. So were the Bee Gees.
|
||
|
||
"Don't you realize that we're in hell? This is the Dystropian section
|
||
of Dante's Inferno!", I asked him. Too late, Constantine was already
|
||
Stayin' Alive in the middle of the room. The Bee Gees backed off, afraid.
|
||
But there was no stopping him. He had that Saturday Night Fever, and the
|
||
dance floor was all his. It all began to melt away until we were back in
|
||
Cyberspace, and Joe Fred Foster was angrily pounding away at keys on a
|
||
computer. Once Constantine had been calmed down, we strode boldly towards
|
||
the cowering legions of phallic envy, PeNiS.
|
||
|
||
Constantine assumed control of the situation. "Alright, Foster, back away
|
||
from the keyboard." (He did) "Who put you up to this? What were you seeking
|
||
to gain?"
|
||
|
||
"A big, dark hacker guy gave us 100,000 file points if we could keep you
|
||
two from interfering with his plan or something. He also gave us these great
|
||
GIFS, but accidentally left a copy of "reality.txt" in there, so we called
|
||
the number in it and downloaded what we found there, because it would give us
|
||
complete control of everything. We were able to do THAT (he waved at the
|
||
remnants of the disco) with the demo version of reality we've got now, and
|
||
it'd only be (he checked his watch) 62,000 years before we'd finish
|
||
downloading the full release!"
|
||
|
||
Meanwhile, I had found a trampoline in the back of the room and was
|
||
playing on it when Elvis Presley came into the room from an unseen entrance.
|
||
He spoke. "Good job, Constantine. I'll take them into custody now."
|
||
Constantine was about to hand them and the computer over to Elvis (because
|
||
if you can't trust Elvis, who can you trust?) when I came running over.
|
||
|
||
"STOP! That's not Elvis!" Constantine whirled around, surprised, and
|
||
Elvis took off running. Little did he know that I had telekinetically tied
|
||
his shoelaces together. I grabbed him, and ripped off his mask, to reveal:
|
||
|
||
Bubbles the Chimp.
|
||
|
||
Bubbles swore mightily. "Damn you, everything was going according to
|
||
plan, even AFTER those PeNiS interlopers got into the act! I was going to
|
||
have complete control over everything, and THEN I could enact my revenge
|
||
upon Michael for dumping me in favor of Lisa Marie! And I'd have gotten away
|
||
with it, if it weren't for you gosh darn kids!" He was still kicking and
|
||
screaming a few hours later, when the Apathetics arrived from Dystropia.
|
||
(It had taken that long to convince them to come over and do it.) However,
|
||
Joe Fred Foster had escaped in the confusion. And Milo was still on the
|
||
loose. At least things had been more or less resolved, there were frosted
|
||
doughtnuts for everyone, and I even got a "I Went To Cyberspace, And All I
|
||
Downloaded Was This Lousy T-Shirt." Only one thing was left.
|
||
|
||
"What will we do about Reality?", asked Constantine. "There's no way we
|
||
can abort the file transfer, and things will continue to fall apart if we
|
||
don't do something." I assured him that everything would be fine.
|
||
|
||
|
||
Later that day, my hand opened a door that had only been opened two times
|
||
before in eternity. Once was when Reality had been put in its place, and the
|
||
other time was when it had left, for good. The man I was with smiled at me,
|
||
and thanked me for the ride. I made sure that Jim understood what he was
|
||
doing, and he assured me that this was going to be a fantastic gig, and
|
||
he couldn't wait. So I turned to leave.
|
||
|
||
"Well, hope you have fun as the new Reality, Mr. Morrison."
|
||
|
||
The End.
|
||
|
||
|
||
(be sure to tune in next time as we boldly Clean Up After Ourselves!)
|
||
|
||
=====================================================================
|
||
=====================================================================
|
||
|
||
Poetry Roundup
|
||
by Psychotic Ambition
|
||
|
||
Behind You
|
||
------------
|
||
|
||
Like a knife in the back
|
||
Like a shiver up the spine
|
||
Life catches up to you
|
||
|
||
|
||
Unwanted
|
||
--------
|
||
|
||
Old and weary
|
||
Small and bold
|
||
This man of creation
|
||
|
||
Sunset to sundown
|
||
Fields of sorrow
|
||
He plowed
|
||
|
||
Tool of life
|
||
Rusted and cold
|
||
He and his knife
|
||
All alone
|
||
|
||
Broken face
|
||
Brittle boned
|
||
Piggen toed
|
||
Nothing
|
||
Was he
|
||
|
||
His friends were the sky
|
||
The water below
|
||
How could he be alive
|
||
With a moral so low
|
||
|
||
Day by day
|
||
Scrapes and Scratches
|
||
Nothing to show
|
||
For all his actions
|
||
|
||
He sat on the throne of poverty
|
||
Hunched over
|
||
Black and blue
|
||
Ruler of the unwanted
|
||
|
||
|
||
Chipped Trophy
|
||
---------------
|
||
|
||
Gripped upright
|
||
Thrown around
|
||
In your world
|
||
|
||
Tugged at the chains
|
||
Scratched at the floor
|
||
Wallowing in a false hope
|
||
|
||
I am molded
|
||
Trophy of mockery
|
||
I'm put in place
|
||
|
||
Lies and guilt cover me
|
||
Shelled in
|
||
I cannot see
|
||
|
||
Make loose
|
||
What is firmly in place
|
||
I'm accused
|
||
|
||
But I excuse
|
||
To defuse
|
||
The madness
|
||
|
||
Look at you
|
||
-----------
|
||
|
||
Excellent perception I say
|
||
For someone today
|
||
Noticed they were imperfect
|
||
|
||
Filtration
|
||
-----------
|
||
|
||
Burning pain
|
||
Punctured twice
|
||
Nothing to gain
|
||
Strapped to this vice
|
||
|
||
One hole bleeding my existance
|
||
My memories, happiness, and freedom
|
||
Pissed away
|
||
|
||
The pulsing of a lifeless body is all I feel
|
||
The pumping is slow
|
||
I'm getting into the rhythm
|
||
I'm forgetting
|
||
Who I used to be
|
||
|
||
A second hole is felt
|
||
Cold and harsh
|
||
|
||
This one is easier
|
||
I can't really feel it
|
||
I'm getting numb
|
||
|
||
As I forget who I used to be
|
||
I'm reborn
|
||
|
||
As one hole is taking life
|
||
The other is giving it
|
||
But my new life is unwanted
|
||
|
||
I just want to die
|
||
I'm getting thoughts
|
||
Pain, suffering, frustration, anger
|
||
I can't stop it
|
||
|
||
My head is getting fuzzy
|
||
With lusts
|
||
Greed, exploitation
|
||
I want it all
|
||
|
||
Less and less I feel
|
||
I just don't care
|
||
The new life is here
|
||
afraid I don't dare
|
||
To stop
|
||
|
||
The first hole is sealed
|
||
It is complete
|
||
|
||
The second hole pumps away faster
|
||
Nothing to compete
|
||
For me
|
||
|
||
No outside influences
|
||
To detach the pump
|
||
Not one pure soul
|
||
In this sick world
|
||
So I have to be filtrated and cleansed
|
||
To be tolerated
|
||
|
||
I'm sick
|
||
All of this takes it's toll
|
||
I'm black and cold
|
||
Barely alive
|
||
Inside
|
||
|
||
Outside
|
||
I'm happy and faithfull
|
||
A follower
|
||
Just perfect for this world
|
||
|
||
[Editor's Note: Rumors to the contrary, Psychotic Ambition is NOT
|
||
Trent Reznor in disguise. If he was, we'd be milking him for money
|
||
and publicity at this very moment, probably as an opening act for
|
||
Def Mangoe.]
|
||
|
||
=====================================================================
|
||
=====================================================================
|
||
|
||
COMING SOON...
|
||
|
||
-- A New Look, New Attitude, New Deadlines...
|
||
|
||
-- A Responsible Editor.
|
||
|
||
-- Malakai's Black Plague Part Two. Nuff said.
|
||
|
||
-- Lots of really neat-o-keen stuff, really.
|
||
|
||
=================================================================
|
||
=================================================================
|
||
|
||
D I S T R I B U T I O N
|
||
|
||
Please call these boards. If you don't, they'll cry.
|
||
|
||
And for letters, comments and rants, don't forget the Propaganda
|
||
Mailbox at Internet address PULETTERS@AOL.COM!
|
||
|
||
Board Phone
|
||
--------------------------- --------------
|
||
Club Evermore (312) 476-1508 (Headquarters)
|
||
Strangeways Asylum (312) 588-4231
|
||
Legion of the Undead (708) 546-4605
|
||
The Ice Palace (708) 635-0953
|
||
Big Bob's Leech Burger Farm (708) 838-1015
|
||
MicroInformation Systems (805) 251-0564
|
||
Dark Globe (815) 363-1351
|
||
|
||
=====================================================================
|
||
=====================================================================
|
||
|
||
|