134 lines
5.7 KiB
Plaintext
134 lines
5.7 KiB
Plaintext
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'##::::'##:::'#####:::'########: VIVA LA REVOLUCION! CERDO DEL CAPITALISTA!!
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##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: ===========================================
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##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #355 !!
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#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
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##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
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##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "Square Dancing With The Fucking Fatsos" !!
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##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Ewheat !!
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..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 12/16/98 !!
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!!========================================================================!!
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She puffed her cigarette smoke in my face. The fucking smoke
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burnt my god damned eyes. As soon as I was finished rubbing my eyes, I
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saw the fat whore grinning at me. Then she HAD the nerve to ask to see
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my manager. All I did was tell her we were out of Zima, what the hell
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is she doing drinking Zima anyway, and she fucking blew smoke in my
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fucking face. I make 5.50 dollars an hour plus tip (from fat people
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like her) I start dreaming the possibilites of brutally beating the fat
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ho' dressed up in spandex and silk.
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"I'd like a Zima, please."
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"We're out of Zima, sorry, can I get you anything else?"
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*inhale* *looking at me* *puff* *looking at me*
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"Why you, you fucking bloated cow, I'm going to rip your fucking
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fake reading glasses off your fucking neck and shove them up your fucking
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hemmorid-ridden anus. Fuck you." *punching* (insert happy scenes from
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Adam West's Batman) *pOW* *zOINK*
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"No NO!@ STOP THAT YOU BEAST!@#"
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Yeah, that wouldn't be good. That'd give my fucking manager
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another reason to fire me. He didn't fire me when I "accidentally"
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spilled a pitcher of Sprite on a buncha fucking screaming kids at a god
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damned birthday party. This isn't no fucking Chuck E. Cheese, it's a
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fucking Italian restaurant, go find somewhere else to party you stupid
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little shits. He didn't fire me for taking excessive smoke breaks.
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Fuck, if he had to deal with these sonovabitches in this fucking place,
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he'd be the next Marlboro Man. Beating her will seriously get me fired.
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Fuck me. I'd quit, only my Honda doesn't pay for itself, plus
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room/board/books at OSU ain't cheap either. I'll be fucked. If it
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weren't fo... .. .
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"Hello, excuse me?"
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The fucking fat whore... again.
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"Yes, what do you want?"
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"Stop staring at me, I'd like to see the manager."
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At least it's an excuse to get rid of her. It's usual routine
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for us to turn our heads around and pretend that we're looking for the
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manager, while he's really sitting in his fucking office... probably
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beating off to the videos he tapes from the camcorders in the restrooms
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established solely for the reason of "to prevent anyone from stealing
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from this franchise." This is a fucking restaurant, not a fucking
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jewelry store. Christ. "Sorry ma'am he's not around, lemme check his
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office." Pshaw. I march into the kitchen. Take a right, aw fuck the
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directions. Oh, of course, his door is locked. He's beating off. Yep
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he is. *knock knock*
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"Who's there?"
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"Who do you think?"
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"You again?"
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He kicks the door open, almost hitting me. Just look at him for
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Christ's sake. He looks like a fucking detective in those polyester
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pants, that cheap tie, and the sweat-soaked Falls Creek button-up
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shirt... what a nerd.
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"Who's pissed off this time?"
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"Some fat lady, ain't my fault this time"
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"Wasn't your fault, huh? We'll see."
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The fat elephant was more than happy to see someone in charge. I
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think she wanted to fuck him. All of a sudden she had an attitude
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change, she went from Cruella De Vil to the fucking Fairy Godmother.
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"Hello ma'am, what seems to be the problem?"
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"Teehee, nothing really, this stubborn boy refused to let me
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purchase Zima."
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Fucking stubborn? We dont have any fucking Zima. I thought to
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myself. Then my fat rhino-of-a-man manager commanded me to get Zima.
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"We dont have any Zima left, sir."
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"Go check, anyway."
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We fucking dont have any fucking Zima. The bartender told me
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THRICE already, we dont have any fucking Zima. I'm not gonna embarrass
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myself for the fourth time with the hot bartender chick. The bar doesn't
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have it. Go figure. The coolers dont have it. Go fucking figure. I
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can see my stupid fucking manager mingling with that baboon. They're
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laughing. Ha ha ha, what's so funny? Your weight? Shut up fat dorks.
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I am more than happy to interupt their conversation.
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"hahaha, that was a good one Elmra... it reminds me of when I was
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a yo..."
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"Sorry, I checked all the coolers and the bar, no Zima."
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"Oh, that's allright, get this nice lady a shot of vodka."
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"On the rocks?"
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We both look at her. She takes a fucking long time to think.
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It's just ice, goddammit. Ice, just ice, you stupid fucking baboon.
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"Nah."
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That fucking whore looks at me, with this "haha, you little
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minimum wage earning peon" look. I smile back with a "hahaha, I pissed
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in your Jenny Craig nutrition drink" smile. I bring back a shot of
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vodka... with a fucking olive in it... I bet she's gonna suck the red
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shit out of the god damned olive first. I smile at her again. That's
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right, service with a fucking smile.
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God, I just fucking love minimum wage jobs.
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<I used the word fuck 39 times in this story, find them all, you
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fucking fat whore... 40.>
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!!========================================================================!!
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!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! #355 - WRITTEN BY: EWHEAT - 12/16/98 !!
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