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7.6 KiB
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146 lines
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Damned Fucking Shit! | | Title: Ruminations and Tangents
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Issue #48 | : Date: 10/22/94
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Editor: Access Denied | . By: Wyvern
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:
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.
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------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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Ruminations and Tangents
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It was dark. I opened my eyes. It was still dark. I
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pulled the pillow off my face. It was a little brighter,
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but it was still dark. I pulled the blankets off of my
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face, and it was blindingly bright. I dove under the
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covers again.
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An undeterminable amount of time later I yawned,
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turned over in my sleep and crawled back out from under
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the covers. The light was just as intense, but this time
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I had a purpose. I had my sights set on a goal, and I was
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going to achieve. When nature calls, it is best to heed
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the invitation.
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Fifteen minutes later I stumbled out of my room
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dressed in grungy jeans and an old T-shirt that said "C is
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better". Cornflakes in the bowl...so...eat. I wandered
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out to the porch and grabbed my mail. Wow, I may have
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already been on the waiting list for the opportunity to be
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notified that I may have already won the chance to
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participate in the third pre-runner-up bonus round, if I
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buy six years of "Orchid World". And, "Open immediately!
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Important information enclosed!" written on some
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forth-class mail.
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Back in the house sitting on the couch, trying to
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think of a valid excuse for not going to work today.
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Except... work? I have a job? I'm only... how old am I?
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Wait... driver's license. I have one here. Let's see...
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Seth Applegate, age 25, brown hair, blue eyes. Yup, as I
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look in the mirror, that's me. Wow, I am out of it. I
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gotta think about this.
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Called work. Told them I was sick. Told me I have
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been sick forty times this year, and that was in the last
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week. Told them I was sick. Told me I was fired. Oh
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well...
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I'm lying on my back, in the big tree in my back yard.
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It's too nice out today to have a job. Oh, wait, I don't
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have one. Oh well, it's still nice out. The breeze is
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gently blowing, and its warm enough to be comfortable in a
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T-shirt, but not hot enough to sweat. The sun is shining
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bright and beautiful, and the green leaves shade me and
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bathe everything in a calm glow. I think that I might...
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<yawn>.
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Floating, softly, gently, freeing the imagination to
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soar. A beach, and sea gulls. I lay there, and they
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waddle over to chat. After some scintillating
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conversation about wingspan and airspeed/weight ratios,
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they told me that they had to go to a tea party the herons
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down the road were hosting. I wave, they wave, they're
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gone. The sand is trickling down a massive hourglass,
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with scythes etched into the glass. I whirlpool down with
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the beach, and now I'm on a dune of ruddy colored clay. I
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drive around for a while, until I come to the nearest
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McDonalds. Ronald is there, wiping off the tables with
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spray that is more effective than the leading brands. I
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wave, he waves. I walk up to the counter, and Death says
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hi back.
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"What'll it be?", he intones. Without waiting for an
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answer, he hands me a McWalrus and a side of Humus.
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Death, Humus-side, hehe. That's the kind of guy he is. I
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sit down to eat, and a police officer approaches.
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"I'm sorry sir, but you were eating way too fast for
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this lane. I'm going to have to take you down to
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headquarters."
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"That's fine, I live there.", I say. We swim most of
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the way, and we're met by shore by two men rowing a dock.
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They help us on, and we run to shore. The cop looks
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mystified, and starts to quack. I tell him that he in a
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penguin dreaming he is a man, and not the other way
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around. He looks immensely relieved, and waddles off to
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find some fish.
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I'm all alone, and I hail a cab. The driver asks how
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much money I have, I tell him, and he tells me that he
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will take me fifteen miles. I tell him that is all I
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needed to know. I ask him where he wants to go. He says
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Jeff City, so I drop him on Belteguse 7 and tell him to
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hitch the rest of the way. He says fine, and hops off
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with a merry ribbit. I beam myself into the zoo, and walk
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until I get to my apartment. As I ease myself in, I think
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of how nice it is that now, instead of us having to go to
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the zoo, the zoo parades past me. Too bad I can't get any
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privacy.
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I reach out and grab the glass, and start molding it
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into a shape that is vaguely familiar. A shape in a tree.
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But the train will be coming any minute, I can't afford to
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miss it, and I let it go. As my transport eases into
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sub-sonic velocity, I wonder where it is I'm going, and
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where I'm leaving from. Scotland, I tell myself, for all
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three questions. But no time for that now, It is time for
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the daily race.
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I place my bet, on pterodactyl number 6x+17y, a sure
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winner if it comes in third. It does, it always does, and
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I win. As usual? Have I been here before?
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I punch though the air in a one piece spandex racing
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suit, just me and my skis against the... tree? Alpine
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skiing takes on an entirely new meaning as I land knee
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first in a jumble of green. The cactus disentangling
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itself from my skis, muttering something about suing for
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damages. Death motors on by, waving his elbow as he
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passes. The cactus thins, becomes lighter both in texture
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and color, and I am aware of an unpleasant sensation in my
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lower back.
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The ground has somehow pulled me down, and I am gazing
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at my previous perch up in the tree. I was...there. Now
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I am...here. Hmm. I pick myself up and return to my
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room. There is a half eaten McSandwich, with some reddish
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sand on top laying on my bed. Hmm...
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Find DFS On These Fine Systems
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==========================================================================
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| AE - Plan 9 Information Archives - Login: DFS |
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| FTP - etext.archive.umich.edu - /pub/Zines/DFS |
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| JINGLE JINGLE |
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==========================================================================
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