168 lines
10 KiB
Plaintext
168 lines
10 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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| | Hogs of Entropy Text Files Present... | |
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| | "The Sandwich" | |
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| | By: Black Francis | |
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\ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ /
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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"Tap it."
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"Huh?"
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"Tap it and all the fizz will go down."
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"Oh. Ok. Thanks." he didn't care if his soda fizzed or not. It was
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definitely one of the more trivial things in his life. He had a lot more to
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worry about than his soda fizzing up. Though, when he was a kid, he used to
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love it when his 'pop' fizzed. He get such a primal thrill from it.
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Making sure his friend wasn't watching, Pete shook the soda. He slid
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his new leather briefcase to the side of the table to avoid getting any soda
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on it. As a hint of a smile crossed his lips, he flipped open the can of
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soda. It was childish, sure, but it was fun. It reminded him of a great
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Hawaiian volcano, erupting, without hesitation or remorse. He was the
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lunch table God. Controlling the fate of everything on the table.
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"Jesus, Pete! I told you to tap it!" screeched Sean as he leaped from
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his seat like someone had set his tweed slacks ablaze.
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"I did! I tapped the damn thing!" He was such a good liar.
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"Not good enough, I suppose!" he said as be began to sit back down,
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now realizing he was not in any grave danger. He glanced towards the mess and
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his jaw dropped.
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"My sandwich! You soaked my sandwich!"
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"Sorry." sighed Pete as he began to wipe up the spill with those little
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cheap napkins that seem to be the standard in cheesy little office cafeterias
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such as this one.
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"Sorry nothin'! My sandwich is destroyed! I >CANNOT< eat this! It's
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been obliterated!"
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"Settle down, Sean. I'll buy you a new one."
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"I don't care about that. It's the ethics of the whole thing!"
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"Sean. Lower your voice. Everyone's beginning to look at us."
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"I don't care! Yeah! Look at me! The freak! The yelling freak!"
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Then came the silence. The dead flat silence that everyone dreads
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like the pre-prom pimple. They both looked edgy, like they were ready to
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break down into tears. Pete sipped his soda and turned towards Pete, who was
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furiously rummaging through his Ziploc bag of trail mix.
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"You gonna eat that?" Pete muttered.
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"What?"
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"Are you going to eat that?" he repeated.
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"No. It's >MY< lunch. Get your own."
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"But you just said it wasn't edible! That I obliterated it!"
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"Who cares? I can still eat it if I want."
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"You're so full of it! You won't eat it. You're just saying that
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because you don't want to give it to me. You're just being childish." Pete
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sounded angry. After all, Sean did make good bologna sandwiches.
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"Excuse me?! No! What was childish was shaking up your soda before
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you opened it so it could fizz all over the place. Now >THAT< was childish!"
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"Oh please! Why would I purposely shake shake my soda?"
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"Because you're a childish asshole! >THAT'S< why!" The tension was
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really beginning to mount. People were starting to stare.
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"Stop being such a jack-ass and give me your sandwich."
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"No!"
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"If not, you'll just waste it. Now, c'mon."
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"No! I'll eat the damned sandwich!"
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"Ok, then. Let me see you take a bite out of it."
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"Huh? No! I don't have to prove anything to you!" the loud-talking
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had become yelling.
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"That's because you won't eat the freakin' thing! HA! Admit it!"
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"I would if you were right - but you're not!"
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"Ok, Mr. Suck-Up-To-The-Boss-All-The-Time.." now Pete was fighting
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dirty. "..Suppose you >WERE< going to eat that sandwich. It has mustard on
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it. You >HATE< mustard!" she shouted with confidence.
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"I could easily wipe it off. What's your point?"
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"Ha! BULL-SHIT! You're the laziest person on the face of the Earth!
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Like, that time you had the runs, went into the bathroom, did your duty, and
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realized the stall had no more toilet paper. Remember that? Yeah. Instead
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of asking for more - or getting more yourself, you just decided not to wipe
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your ass at all! How easily we forget, huh?" their petty bickering had even
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grabbed the attention of the lunch ladies now. The faint echoes of his fellow
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workers snickering made Sean's feet tingle. He leaned over towards Pete, his
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face still bright red, and whispered;
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"Shut up, Pete! Everybody in here can hear you!" obviously, Pete knew
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he did good. So, instead of being the discrete, quiet, and humble man he
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usually was, he kept shouting.
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"What's the matter, Sean? >EMBARRASSED?<"
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"Fine! You know what? Take the stupid sandwich, you want it so bad!"
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he said as he lifted the soggy sandwich from the dampened table and hurdled
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it towards Pete. The sandwich hit him in the face, immediately falling apart,
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dumping bologna onto his lap and splattering mustard up and down his new
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tie.
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"I don't want your freakin' diseased sandwich, you son-of-a-bitch!"
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Pete lifted the remains of the sandwich from his clothing and with a tightly
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clenched fist, compacted it into a ball. Like a major-league pitcher, Pete
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wound up, took the now orange-shaped sandwich, and hurdled it towards Sean
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with blinding speed. The carefully crafted bologna-ball hit Sean between
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the eyes with amazing accuracy, given the dynamics of a soaking wet bologna
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sandwich rolled up into a ball. Shrapnel flew everywhere. It sprayed
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innocent bystanders. Covering their corner of the cafeteria.
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"Hey!" the man in the booth next to them shouted. After all, he was
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trying to enjoy his sandwich. "Watch it!"
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Sean grew angry fast. He had that maniacal look on his face that
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nobody had seen since those copies of his Xeroxed ass from last years New
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Years Eve office party had been passed around the office. In what seemed like
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slow motion that Oliver Stone would be damn proud of, Sean stood up and
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punched Pete dead in the face. The cafeteria froze. Everyone's eyes turned
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towards the two, who were now rolling through the slop on the white, cyan,
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and green tile floor, duking it out. Both men relentlessly slugging each
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other in various parts of the anatomy. Some not quite as pleasant as others.
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Nothing was sacred. Sure, it was a dirty fight, but they weren't worried
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about being fair or not.
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"Get off of me, asshole!"
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Sean had a bloody nose.
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"You get off of me first!"
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Pete's lip had been split.
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By now, the security guards had rushed into the cafeteria. Nobody who
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had worked in the office even knew that there were security guards in the
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building. Two of them, to be exact. With intensity straight out of a bad
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episode of 'Cops', they ran to the two and split them up immediately. They
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continued swinging into the empty air after being separated.
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"Let me go! Let me take care of this asshole!" screamed Pete.
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"You're lucky this guy's holding me back, punk!" screamed Sean. They
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were so full of it. They were elated that they had been broken up. Neither
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of them liked fighting, and they both feared getting their ass kicked in
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public. The security guards settled the two down, and escorted them out of
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the cafeteria.
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"That's it? No warning? No nothing?" thought Pete as he watched the
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security guard who had escorted him away walk back to his post. He was out of
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breath, so, he walked out of the building into the courtyard. It was a little
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chilly, but he had no choice. He had been kicked out of the cafeteria. He
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didn't dare go back. He loved this job. He would hate to be fired for
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something as stupid as a fight over a sandwich. A crappy sandwich, none the
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less. He stopped for a breath of fresh air, and sat down on the nearest
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bench. Unknowingly, he had sat down next to Sean, who still had bologna
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sandwich all over himself. The scene was tense. They looked at each other.
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"You didn't have to punch me." said Pete.
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"You didn't have to throw the damn sandwich at me." replied Sean.
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"Sorry." said Pete.
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"You didn't have to throw in that cheap shot about the bathroom thing.
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Where I ran out of toilet paper." sighed Sean.
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"Yeah. That was kind of a cheap shot." agreed Pete.
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"I could have easily yelled out about the Sears Catalog incident."
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"I'm glad you didn't." said Pete. He had forgotten about the whole
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'Sears Catalog' thing until now. ">VERY< glad you didn't."
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"Well.. yeah. I'm sorry to for being such a childish asshole."
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"It's ok. Stupid things like this happen." said Pete.
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"Yeah. I was gonna give you the sandwich anyway."
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"Damn. I'm hungry." said Pete. As he looked over to Sean, he saw
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him taking a Hostess Twinkie out of his briefcase. Obviously trying to hide
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it from Pete.
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"You gonna eat that?"
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|=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=|
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| _____ Call Goat Blowers Anonymous for the LATEST HOE! _____ |
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| 6/ ^..^ (215) 750 - 0392 ^..^ \9 |
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| \_____(oo) This Issues Featured Support Board is: (oo)_____/ |
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| WW WW Sin City [DSP HQ] WW WW |
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| (209) 266 - 4249 |
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| ...the kings of modern goofiness... |
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|=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=|
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Copyright (c) 1994 HoE Publications and Black Francis. #56 --> 02/04/95
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All rights Reserved.
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