113 lines
5.0 KiB
Plaintext
113 lines
5.0 KiB
Plaintext
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### ###
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### #### ### ### ### ####
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### ### ##### ### ###
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### ### ##### ### ###
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########## ### ### ##########
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### ###
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### ###
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Underground eXperts United
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Presents...
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####### ## ## ####### # # ####### ####### #######
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## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ##
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#### ## ## #### # # ## ## ####### #######
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## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ## ##
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## ## ####### ####### # # ####### ####### #######
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[ What Goes Around... ] [ By The GNN ]
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____________________________________________________________________
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____________________________________________________________________
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"WHAT GOES AROUND..."
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by THE GNN/DualCrew/uXu
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"Let's do it!", said the American president one day.
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"Let's do it!", said the Russian president one day (but in a slight
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different language).
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And so they did.
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After hundreds of years, the both super-powers finally decided to cut
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the crap and send all nuclear weapons to hell. Another dawn had
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risen. It was not cool to own nuclear weapons in a time of peace and
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understanding. The year was 2055. People were happy and loved each other
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to the limit. No more wars or killing.
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Abu "the saint" Rachmed was the one responsible for the destruction of the
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weapons. He and his crew had worked days and nights to find a way to get
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rid of the "crap" in a peaceful way. After nine days one of the crew members
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came crawling from the room and said "We will send it to space" before
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he fell to the ground and slept for another nine days.
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Abu thought it was a good idea. They built thousands of rockets covered
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with flowers and happy messages to "Mr Space". Then they took all the
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nuclear weapons and stuffed them into the rockets and sent them to space.
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"Bye, bye nuclear weapons", the population of earth screamed as the first
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rocket flew away to nowhere.
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However, a slight miscalculation occurred. A dozen of the rockets crash-
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landed on the comet of Halley's. Since all members of the staff who were
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meant to watch the rockets disappear were out dancing in the streets,
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nobody noticed that. Actually, since EVERYBODY were dancing in the streets
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all night long, every day, nobody noticed that a computer in a room at a
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space-center happily gave a perfect outprint of the data of Halley's
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new course, 2061. It said in a jolly way that the comet would crash
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on planet earth. Six years later the comet crashed in the middle east
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and killed ten million dancing humans. Another billion were killed when
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the old nuclear weapons exploded.
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"Damn!", said the presidents (and got a jolly slap on the butt, a
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"punishment" for the naughty word).
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Life went on. People continued to be happy. The peaceful spirit couldn't
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be killed! A thousand years passed.
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"Haha! Time for another planet to bite the dust!", said Captain Tempest
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from planet Destructo. He had been a problem-child from the beginning
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and when sixty strange rockets landed on his lawn nobody could stop him
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from using the horrible weapons that he found inside. He quickly entered
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his small vessel and hit the universe to destroy things.
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Dancing, the human population were blown to nothing when Captain Tempest
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decided to use the weapons on the small planet, a million light-years
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from his home planet. Laughing, he went back home.
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Life returned. From dust, a light. From light, a human. It took
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billions and billions and billions of years for the dust to become
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a human. But one day, the first human opened his eyes and said:
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"I made it!"
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He started to dance. Happiness had returned to planet earth once again.
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Then he suddenly stopped. He went to the edge of the planet and watched
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the universe.
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"May the weapons never return again!", he screamed to the silence.
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Then he heard a sound behind him. He turned around and discovered that
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Einstein was right. Universe is bent. With a loud sigh, he was turned
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into nothing when thousands of rockets with the nuclear weapons came from
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the other direction and crash landed on the other side.
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///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
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Call INFO ADDICT - Home of Underground eXperts United +46-###-####
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I would like to get in touch with other textfile writers around the globe.
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Mail me a letter: THE GNN, P.O.BOX 5, 79023 SVARDSJO, SWEDEN.
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_______________________________________________________________________
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_______________________________________________________________________
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