96 lines
4.9 KiB
Plaintext
96 lines
4.9 KiB
Plaintext
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$$$$$$$$$$$
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$$$$$$$$$$$ hogz of entropy #170
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$$$$$P $$$$ $$$$ moo, oink, up your butt.
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$$$$P $$$$ x$$$$
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$$$P $$$$ xP$$$$ d$$$$$$$$$$$.
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$$$. $$$$xP $$$$ $$$$$$' >$$$$
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$$$$$$$$$. $$$$P $$$$ 4$$$$$. .$$$$'
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$$$$'`4$$$b. $$$$ $$$$ 4$$$$$$$$$P'
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$$$$b 4$$$$b. $$$$$$$$$$$ 4$$$< %%
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$$$$$b 4$$$$$x $$$$$$$$$$$ 4$$$$$$$$$ %%
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>> "Why Can't I Be A Crack Baby?" <<
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by -> Backwash
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----------------------------------------------------------------------------
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Chris was a typical angst teen. His parents named him Chris to confuse
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him about his sexuality. He was sure of it because all his anti-heroes had
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told him his parents were evil. He was watching television, doing his best
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to try to hate himself, almost to the point that he actually did, when he
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saw a boy on television born without arms or legs. He gazed into the boy's
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eyes as his mind recoiled a bit at the thought of actually having such
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misfortune, when he had an idea.
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"If I was born without arms or legs, or I was a mongoloid, think how
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miserable I could be! Then all of my friends would accept me, and maybe I
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could get some typical shallow girl to fuck me in a rare moment of empathy.
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I may be far too weak to take a stand, but with nature on my side, latching
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onto the world's extremely short attention span, think what I could do!"
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He realized it just wouldn't work if he just cut off his own limbs,
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though. He'd become too much of a miscreant, even to his warped culture, so
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he went to scream at his parents, which is what he always did when he was
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frustrated.
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"MOM! Why the fuck didn't you smoke or drink or do crack you goddamn
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whore! Look at me! I have all my limbs and I have average intelligence!
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What's your problem? Are you trying to sabotage my social life again?!"
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His mom had learned to tune him out by now and had given up. She gave
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a reflexive, disdaining nod of the head, and went back to reading her
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romance novels. Chris continued to rant.
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"Don't you understand? I could have been somebody! The world could
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have been mine if only I didn't have the mental or physical ability to grasp
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it!"
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His mom couldn't ignore him any longer. "Look," she said, trying to
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disguise her contempt for what her son had become. "You're a wonderful
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person; you are special and you underplay that all the time. Why do you
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need to be some freak for that?"
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Chris was cynical, as usual. "Like thinking for yourself ever got
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anyone anywhere! You have to be a genetic freak or be rich to make a
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difference now! I don't even have any kind of mental imbalance!"
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Chris went back to his room, pouted a bit, and tried to foster his
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misanthropy, still gazing at his painfully present arms and legs. "Damn
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it," he said with utter bitterness. "Why did I have to be so perfect? Why
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can't people like me because I'm handsome and dumb?" He began to swear as
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loudly as he could against the reverse eugenics that kept him from being
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cool, when all of a sudden, a heavenly figure appeared.
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The reality of it all hit Chris all at once, although apathy was bred
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into him well enough not to be knocked back by the realization that his
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abandonment of religion to be cool might have just backfired on him.
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"Chris, I'm here to help you. I can turn back time and give you your
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wish, if you are sure you want this."
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"Puh," Chris spoke in a typically surly tone. "I don't need you
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questioning my damn wants. I know better. Give me what you got, I have
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better things to do."
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There was a blinding flash of nothingness. As Chris regained
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conciousness, he was laying on the floor with 4 stumps on each end of him,
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as his mind slowly uncoiled from what had happened.
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"Yes!" he exclaimed in his head. "I've arrived, I'm in malcontent
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paradise, I can garner whatever empathy hasn't been sucked out of the world,
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I'm a god, I'm...." Suddenly, as he flashed into his new reality, his mom
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came in and picked him up as he gurgled happily. After all, he didn't know
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anything else anymore, and his life was now stress-free. As his mom walked
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away with the now infantile and gimpish Chris, she said to his father, "He
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almost looks like he has a glimmer of intelligence today. It's odd, like he
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could almost speak."
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Chris did do his part to help his culture, though. His picture
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appeared on numerous anti-drug pamphlets and angered many fellow teens, who
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felt it was "crap, made up by old people, they just don't understand us."
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----------------------------------------------------------------------------
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* (c) HoE publications. HoE #170 -- written by Backwash -- 12/26/97 *
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