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'##::::'##:::'#####:::'########: VIVA LA REVOLUCION! CERDO DEL CAPITALISTA!!
##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: ===========================================
##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #400 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: ===========================================
##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "Choose Your Own Adventure" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Various Artists !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/4/99 !!
!!========================================================================!!
As a special joint-project, HOE #400 is based on those old
"Choose Your Own Adventure" books that many of us read as kids. The HOE
Staff, along with many others, decided to do our version of this
concept, with each of us writing our own short part.
To play, simply start at square 1. When you are offered a choice
of where to go, select which number in [brackets] you wish to follow,
and follow it. Simple enough, huh?
But beware... this is a deadly game, and endings come quick if
you make an unwise choice!
The following authors (43 in all) have written at least some
part of this file (listed in order of appearance):
Mogel, Cstone, Meenk, Trilobyte, Darwin, Art, Zooey, Isaac,
Swiss Pope, Ziego Vuantar, Kaia, Tasha, Teerts, Ewheat, Anjee,
Kreid, AnonGirl, Jook, Tortoise, AltRocks, Mistawho, Quarex,
Neko, Ilsundal, Metal Chick, Aster, Mutter, PezMonkey, Oeb,
TanAdept, Phairgirl, Deadpan, Nybar, Caitlin, Avenger, Kyst,
Vyrus, Ior, LilNilHil, Miasma, Soybean, and Squinky.
Enjoy the fruits of our labor.
!!========================================================================!!
[1] (Mogel)
You never liked your friends in high school very much. They
were generally "alright" by conventional standards, you supposed, but
as senior year pressed on, you were progressively becoming more and
more of a social elitist -- eventually only hanging out with the
captain of the football team, the head cheerleader, and the guy with
the most Dragonlance boxed sets. The four of you would sometimes go
on amazing adventures together around the neighborhood! Today is no
exception. Bright and early your friends assembled outside your front
door, full of a brand new project -- "let's go explore the woods!"
* If you'd like to go exploring the woods with your friends, go to [2].
* If you'd like to go back to sleep, go to [3].
[2] (Cstone)
To the delight of your friends, you decide to join in the trek
into the woods. Your ego is stroked by the fact that as far as you
know, nobody has ever entered the forest and lived. As you fearlessly
enter the woods, you see the remnant of a trail heading in one
direction. You briefly wonder which direction the trail led, but soon
realize that nobody among you has brought a compass. You think about
going back for one, but that thought dies quickly as you frustratingly
realize that nobody has brought a map, either.
* If you'd like to follow the old trail, go to [4].
* To go in a random untrodden direction, go to [5].
[3] (Cstone)
You're really tired, since you didn't get to sleep until 4 A.M.
after a wild night of partying, so you respectfully decline the offer.
To your surprise, your "friends" quickly get upset, and deluge you
with angry questions about why you don't go with them and why they
should even be associated with you. As they start to leave, you feel
afraid that your seemingly innocuous refusal to explore the woods may
have done irreparable damage to the relationship between you and your
friends. The threads holding your fragile, deformed social ego above
the water of despair are cut, and you slowly trudge back to bed. You
try to sleep, but it's impossible now that your life has been ruined,
so you change your mind and run back outside, determined to join your
friends in their journey through the woods, but they're already
gone... the end.
[4] (Meenk)
You begin to stumble down the old trail, struggling to keep from
losing your footing amongst the dead branches and rocks. One of your
stupid friends is whining about the poison ivy which is growing along
the sides of the narrow path. You try to block out his complaints, but
his voice is at the exact frequency that triggers your chronic migraine
headaches. You turn around and scream "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" He does,
but only for another 30 feet. At this point the path has virtually
disappeared and you are treading on compacted poison ivy. He begins
to whine louder than before.
* If you pick up a fist-sized stone and hurl it at your friend's head,
go to [8].
* If you stuff your ears full of leaves, go to [9].
[5] (Trilobyte)
you opt not to follow the established path and head off to the
right. your friends gain some respect for you because you have already
taken the helm of control of the group and have led them off to what
seems to be uncharted territory.
after you have walked a distance through the wilderness, you
notice that the scenery seems to be changing a bit. the traditional
green shades are becoming darker and the brown shades are becoming
deeper. you hear what sounds like a stream or brook somewhere to
the left.
* To trek toward the water sound, go to [6].
* If you want to continue along your random path, go to [7].
[6] (Meenk)
You start to the left, pushing through small branches and foliage,
the trees above blotting out most of the light. Your friends encourage
you, impressed by your bravery, and you lead them deep into the trees.
You are forced to stop when you get to a huge fallen tree, but the
gurgling of the water seems to be right on the other side. You ask for
a boost from your friends, and soon stand on top of the gigantic log.
One by one you pull your companions atop the tree. Suddenly one of
them slips on the moist moss, grabs onto you and one of the others,
and *SPLASH* you all plunge into the cold water on the other side. You
all frantically grab for each other, but the only hand you grasp is the
cold, clammy hand of a corpse.
* If you examine the corpse, go to [10].
* If you get the fuck out of there, friends or no friends, go to [11].
[7] (Darwin)
The ground beneath you gives way with a loud *SNAP* as you, the
cheerleader and the Nerd all slide down a steep embankment into a muddy
pit. The captain of the football team looks down at you and begins to
taunt you. The Jock is suddenly quiet and then you hear the sounds of
a struggle and the Jock babbling incoherently. You hear a wet crunching
noise and a scream as The Jock's lifeless body flies into the pit and
lands arranged in all the wrong ways. As the cheerleader starts
screaming and the Nerd starts rolling two 10 sided die, you realize
it's up to you to take charge of an ugly situation.
* If you smoke a joint, go to [14].
* If you whip out a pocket knife and calm your friends down, go to [15].
[8] (Art)
You whip the fist-sized rock at your role-playing friend's head.
All of a sudden, the air surrounding him shimmers, and a blinding
white light shines until you can't bear to look at it any longer. When
you slowly reopen your half-blinded eyes you see not your friend, but a
many-eyed BEHOLDER!
* If you withdraw your trusty Vorpal BoyScout Pocketknife and attempt
to vanquish the beholder, go to [16].
* If you take out a small black palmable device from your pocket with
the words "DON'T PANIC" written on the cover, go to [17].
[9] (Art)
As you hastily grab a handful of leaves from the shrubbery of the
forest and stick them in your ears to drown out the incessant whine
caused by your stupid friend's monologue, you swiftly realize two
things. One, that your hands just became twice as large as they were
moments ago and itch like a motherfucker, and, two, your ears are
beginning to pus and leak bodily fluids. Your already unbearable
migraine turns into a throbbing black hole of a headache... in your left
eye, fusing every single c-phiber in your swollen head. With one last
torturous wave of pain, your head explodes like an overripe melon from
the caustic effects of the Poison Ivy that you mistakenly plunged into
your unwitting ear canals. The end.
[10] (Darwin)
After the requisite five seconds of abject horror, you and your
vapid friends jump to your feet, aghast at the spooky corpse which is
lying face down in an eddy of the forest brook. The corpse is dressed
in a conservative blue suit which contrasts the putrescent white of its
bloated flesh. Summoning up your courage, you flip the corpse over
onto its back and are shocked to see the face of the 37th President
of these United States, Richard Milhouse Nixon!
Your surprise at seeing the former leader of the free world
increases tremendously when his lips start to move and you hear him
speak!
"Please.. let me explain..", he rasps in an a voice that sounds
like a creaking door.
* If you listen to what Tricky Dick has to say, go to [12].
* If you run like hell from the undead Richard Nixon, go to [13].
[11] (Zooey)
As you clamber quickly out of the water, flailing your arms and
legs and cursing the day mom fell in love with your swimming instructor
and daddy pulled you out of classes at the Y, your foot catches in a
sinkhole underwater, and everything goes black. When you come to in
a coughing fit some time later, spewing dark water around you, nothing
looks familiar, and the friends you abandoned are nowhere to be found.
Once you rise unsteadily to your feet, though, you notice that one thing
at least is still with you--the clammy hand and detached forearm of the
corpse! You notice that the hand has six fingers, which probably
accounts for the firm grip that it has.
* If you want to take a closer look at your new treasure, go to [18].
* If you couldn't sooner be rid of the thing, throw it into the bushes
and run towards what you think may be upstream, go to [19].
[12] (Isaac)
Your instincts tell you to run or quickly find something heaven
to beat down the abomination, but are you feeling sympathetic and down
right cheeky today like a curious little monkey. So, you lean towards
him in hopes better understanding his dying-old-lady voice. That is
when his hand shoots out and he seizes the side of your head and hair.
You scream such a high tone it can barely be heard by human ears. Oh,
and you die after he bites a large chuck of your head off. The end.
[13] (Swiss Pope)
Heart racing, you sprint through the forest alone until you come
to a clearing to catch your breath. Was what you have seen real? You
recall the day at school when your civics teacher announced the former
President's death-- surely that could not have been him! But the
corpse's beady eyes, widow's peak in the hair, nose of a crooked Quaker
leaves no doubt in your mind that it was indeed Richard Milhouse Nixon.
Suddenly you hear the sounds of voices and footsteps-- could they be your
friends, could they be hunters, could they possible be... ARMY GUYS?
* If you want to hide, hoping that you are not discovered, go to [28].
* If you want to shout out, letting yourself be known, go to [29].
[14] (Isaac)
With the on-slot of screaming and emotion you decide to take out
your shit and smoke for awhile. As you do you feel yourself lose grip
on reality and you pass out, probably as a result of bad weed. You have
a dream about a small naked girl in an oriental garden who stabs you in
the chest with a very large knife. You wake up to a quiet morning sun
rise and the sound of birds and a softly trickling scream.
* If you would like to find your friends, go to [26].
* If you would like to find your way home, go to [27].
[15] (Ziego Vuantar)
YOUR FRIENDS ARE STUPID! YOU THREATEN TO CUT THEM TO BITS AGAIN
AND AGAIN TO SILENCE THEIR MISERABLE EXISTENCES... BUT DO THEY LISTEN?
OF COURSE NOT! THAT'S JUST LIKE YOU DUMB, SELF-CENTERED, CAPITALISTIC
AMERICANS. YOU KILL THEM ALL AND THEN KILL YOURSELF AND MAKE ZIEGO
VUANTAR VERY VERY HAPPY! THE END.
[16] (kaia)
But faster than you can say "uncle," the many-eyed beholder
lunges towards you, folds of its gnarled, rubbery-loose flesh slopping
you like punching bags knocking you to the ground. Its hot and sour
breath sears your face as you withdraw your boyscout knife and drive it
fast and hard, many times, into the space between the eyes. Star bucks
Coffee trickles from some of the wounds, while irish cream pours from
others. Sweet nectar of the gods! You take out a tin cup and start to
collect fluid to drink.
* If you've decided to get wired on Star bucks, go to [34].
* If you've decided to get plastered on Bailey's, go to [35].
[17] (Swiss Pope)
"What's this?" you ask, referring to the small black palmable
device with the words "DON'T PANIC" on the cover.
"The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. It's a sort of electronic
book. It tells you everything you need to know about anything. That's
its job," says the Beholder.
You turn it over nervously in your hands.
"I like the cover," you say. "Don't Panic. It's the first
helpful or intelligible thing anybody's said to me all day."
Suddenly, Douglas Adams comes trotting through the forest,
accompanied by his lawyers from Simon and Schuster, spouting off
gibberish about copyright infringement, then teleports you to Traal,
where you are promptly eaten by the mind boggling stupid Bugblatter
Beast. The end.
[18] (tasha)
You take a deep breath and slowly begin prying the pale hand off
of your wrist, grimacing at your fingers, which are sinking into the
bloated flesh. A drop of watered down blood drips from the detached
forearm of the corpse and onto your already soaked jeans. You swallow
the lumps in your throat, and prepare to fully examine your new toy.
You notice a few, previously oozing, sores near the wrist.
* If you wish to examine these sores more, go to [20].
* If you wish to hold on to the forearm, and try to find your way home
to show it to your parents, go to [21].
[19] (Teerts)
in a slight fit of panic, you feverishly try to detach the
autonomous six-fingered hand and forearm from your arm. unsuccessful,
you sit around for about a half hour thinking of a way to get the damned
thing off...after much thought you decide to chew the bastard off, but
since the hand has six fingers, you instead go for the thumb to speed
things up and finally you remove the thing from your arm. you bring
the arm high as you are about to throw it into some nearby brush but
then you decide that you liked the taste of the meat as you chewed your
way free from the arm. you bite off two of the remaining digits and
pocket them for later...you know, just in case... you walk off into
the woods in search of another trail.
* if you want to keep searching for a trail go to [39].
* if you decide to camp here and wait around until you are dry before
continuing your journey, go to [40].
[20] (Ewheat)
After admiring the materialistic attributes of the sores, you
implement your 2nd-grade knowledge of the Newton Laws upon the
observing procedure. You benchmark its durability by adding velocity
to it as you throw it against a nearby tree.
A bear comes out, you regret not voting for Reagan. You're dead.
The end.
[21] (Tasha)
You wrinkle your nose, and get a firm grip on the forearm and
hand, before quickly jumping to your feet and fighting your way through
the low-hanging branches. You run as fast as you can, and finally exit
from the woods onto a street you know to be only a few blocks from your
house. You hide the arm under your shirt, and turn a few corners,
headed toward your house. You walk in to your mother asking where
you've been.
* If you apologize and take the arm to your room, go to [22].
* If you show the arm to your mother, go to [23].
[22] (Anjee)
You mumble some lame excuse that your mother doesn't buy and
head for the mess that is known as your bedroom, still hiding the
forearm under your shirt. However, as you were running up the stairs,
your new toy falls from your shirt and begins tumbling down the flight
of stairs, landing on your dogs head "yELP!@". Your mother walks up
to the dog and finds the rotten forearm and thoroughly examines it.
You begin to wonder why she hasn't screamed yet, and slowly approach
your mother only to see a grin draw onto her face -- she's contemplating
something!
* If your mother bites into the forearm and swallows a mouthful of
rotten flesh and maggots, go to [24].
* If your mother violently slaps you around with the arm, go to [25].
[23] (Anjee)
You discard your mother's question and quickly pull the forearm
out from under of your shirt and hold it inches from your mother's face.
Unlike you expected, she does not ask where the hell you got THAT from,
but hits your arm with extreme force, causing you to launch the forearm
in mid-air... landing into the soup she was preparing on the stove.
You grin evilly and begin to chuckle, asking your mother if she's hungry.
Mother bolts towards the phone with steam coming out of her ears and
dials the number to the nearest loony bin. You are locked up in a
mental institute for the rest of your life, no one ever visits you, and
you become best friends with a spider, but it dies a few days later so
you kill yourself also. The end.
[24] (Zeigo Vuantar)
YOUR MOTHER, REMEMBERING HER ROOTS OF AN IMPRISONED CHILD IN A
DARK, POOR PRISON CELL, SUFFERING AT THE HANDS OF OPPRESSION, WAS FORCED
TO EAT FOREARMS SUCH AS THIS ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS. SHE BITES DOWN, AND
THE BLOOD POURS OUT, FLOWING DOWN HER CHIN, HER NECK, AND COLORING HER
DRESS DARK RED. YOU TRY TO SCREAM... BUT YOU ARE DEAD. FOR NO GOOD
REASON. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!#@#@ THE END.
[25] (Kreid)
THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD is the last word you can hear before
you find yourself staring blankly at the blank ceiling of your now
dead-silent home. You feel most of your senses leaving you -- but you
definitely sense that you are lying in something wet. "What could this
be that I'm lying in?" you wonder, but it's too late for that kind of
thinking because you feel you are losing it... losing your... no--
you see a white light in front of you.
* If you want to follow the light, go to [30].
* If you want to try to hold on to your life, go to [31].
[26] (Ewheat)
When your high school teacher told you to read Marx, you shushed
The Communist Manifesto for an evening of Jennifer Aniston and Matthew
LeBlanc in NBC's "Friends." You've resorted to marijuana and other
social-dependent drugs because of this.
You toke a joint and realize these friends of yours aren't
really your friends, and they'll never amount up to a masturbation
session over-reviewing Courtney Cox and Lisa Kudrow's chest-sizes...
You lose all friends. Become a hermit. Write a best-seller
that nobody understands but your "intellectual muse." Hahaha, you
loser! The end!
[27] (Ziego Vuantar)
BUT YOU CAN'T GO HOME BECAUSE YOUR HOME HAS BEEN DESTROYED AND
IS NOT UNDER CONTROL OF THE OPPRESSIVE GOVERNMENT REGIME! YOUR FAMILY,
FRIENDS, AND EVERYTHING YOU KNOW AND LOVE HAS DISAPPEARED AND YOU ARE
ALONE, NAKED, AND THE IRONIC FOOT OF CAPITALISM HAS SHOVED ITS FOOT
STRAIGHT UP YOUR DESERVING ASS! YOU *DIE*, FUCKER!!! BURN IN HELL!!!!!
THE END.
[28] (AnonGirl)
You search for the nearest hiding place, and stumble upon a small
log that you could fit in. You slide inside the wet log and keep a
close watch on the things outside when you suddenly feel something
moving at your feet. You light a match to see what's down there, and
find a small brown baby bear trying to squeeze its way out. You
nervously turn back facing forward, only to discover two giant bear feet
staring at you. 'Oh shit!', you think, as you begin to hear the
crunching sounds of wet wood and feel sharm bear claws tearing away at
your body. The end!
[29] (Jook)
Turning your head ever so slightly to the right, you see the
fine men of the American Armed Forces. With their guns pointed at the
tip of your nose, you wonder what you should do about this precarious
position. "Excuse me," you say "I'm not really sure what to do here.
I mean, you've got a gun, I don't. What to do?"
Annoyed at your words, one of the soldiers puts the gun in your
mouth. "We do not like you. Your shoes are untied, your pants hang too
low, your hair isn't cut very nicely, and you need to make a dentist
appointment. Oh, and you need a suit because you're getting old now."
"Pleagh," you mumble, wishing they could hear you beg for your
life, but within seconds, you hear the twitch of the officer's finger,
the gunshot, and ultimately your body slump to the ground.
"Get a damn suit and pull your pants up, damn hippie."
* If you pull your pants up, which may save your life, go to [36].
* If you don't, go to [29].
[30] (Kreid)
You find that you can't quite walk, but you follow the light...
you... hover into it. Some time passes, maybe? if time existed? but it
seems irrelevant to you, as you are quite overwhelmed, and quite
confused; by nothing in particular, just nothingness. All white.
You hover idly, in some kind of motion, for a while, until a
voice comes into your head, booming. It speaks:
* If you accept Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior,
go to [32].
* If you are an unrepenting heathen, go to [33].
[31] (Tortoise)
As you struggle to regain control of your dirty, rash-splotched
body, a gentle voice offers you a jar of honey. Your senses are
instantly overwhelmed by images of the sweet, mellifluous substance
dripping from your fingertips and onto your tongue, and you relinquish
control of what used to be your body. the end.
[32] (AltRocks)
Suddenly you feel yourself being whacked away at phenomenal
speeds. You see the light getting closer and closer, and closer, until
it seems to be right there. Then you notice a man standing there with
a flashlight. He says to you "What did you expect there to be. God?
HAHAHA!" The end.
[33] (AltRocks)
You hear a deep voice speaking to you, from your head, "Good
choice. Maybe you're not such a putz after all. But you still have a
long way to go. Now is the time to prove that your not some dumb text
file writing computer geek with no real life sckillz. You must go thru
a series of trials of the physical, mental, and emotional types. You
will wish there was a hell after you're done.
* If you accept the challenge go to [37].
* If you refuse the challenge go to [38].
[34] (Kaia)
The Star bucks coffee is a thousand degrees hot and instantly
grills your insides into jerky. Your friends, now starving because
they had lost their fearless leader, stumble upon the freshly-grilled
meat. As they realize it's not a mirage, they devour your lean,
hickory-smoked flesh. Serves you right for patronizing franchises
that mercilessly devour their small business competitors! The end.
[35] (AnonGirl)
You begin to chug away the Bailey's, beginning to feel tipsy.
After deciding you've had enough to drink, you sit back against a
large tree and smoke a cigarette, taking in the wonderful nature air.
Suddenly the tree begins to shake. You stand up and stare at the
shaking tree for a while when out of nowhere a giant cycloptic behemoth
jumps out from the treetop. Standing face to face with the tall
monster, you notice the items on its belt consist of swords, daggers,
knives, and coconut shell shot glasses... and it seems to know kung-fu.
* To run for your life, go to [41].
* To challenge the cycloptic beast in a drinking contest, go to [42].
[36] (Mogel)
You attempt to pull up your pants, but accidentally stroke
your genitals. Go to [49].
[37] (Mistawho)
You are whisped away to an open pasture, there seems to only
be you.
"This'll be the physical test, kill your opponent and you'll
move to the next test."
Simple enough, right? But that opponent so happens to be
Jackie Chan. As he politely removes your testicles and shoves them
down your throat, you only manage to utter, "holy fucking shit."
Go to [41].
[38] (AltRocks)
The voice materializes in front of you in the form of an orange
midget with green hair. He looks at you, shakes his head, and asks you,
"Why did you have to make it so hard?" He then reaches into a small
pouch drooped around neck and pulls out a gun. You try to run, but he
guns you down like the stupid snimal you are. He then calls for his
midget friends to join in a barbecue of your remains. The end.
[39] (Mistawho)
Three hours and one finger later, progress is nil. You keep
finding paths, but with every path comes a dead end. Finally seeing
light deep down a well-hidden path, you follow it and find the
cheerleader and the nerd, they follow you down the path further, and
you notice what might be an exit.
"Don't worry guys," you say as you are looking over your
shoulder, "I think I've found a way....."
Fate interrupts you, as you have discovered a 200 foot drop off,
while pondering on the long fall, you realize you are indeed an idiot.
The end.
[40] (Teerts)
you clear off a fire pit and even drag a big rock over so you can
sit, but when you're about to build your fire, you realize that you
don't have matches... "AHA!" you exclaim as you reach in your fifth
pocket for your zippo...you start to cry when you find that your
favorite lighter is gone too! you sit on your rock and start munching
on your fingerfoodsnacks when you notice that the temperature is
dropping, rapidly. Since you are such an socially elitist mofo, you
think you can handle it and just decide to wait out the nite... colder
it gets... your core body temperature drops way below 37 and hypothermia
sets in... you are never seen again. the end.
[41] (Quarex)
You start to run for your life. Fortunately for you, reality
works a lot like a King's Quest game, and the kung-fu beast
mysteriously moves much slower than your keyboard parsed input allows
you to move. You easily elude the lumbering beast, and find yourself
along side a peaceful pond, surrounded by happy woodland creatures.
You think you hear an Erasure song playing in the background. There
is a broken baseball bat near the pond's edge, and you smell the faint
odor of vanilla. There are paths leading north and south.
* To follow a path to the north or the south, go to [45].
* To dive into the pond, go to [46].
[42] (Neko)
You challenge the cycloptic beast to a drinking contest. The
beast leads you to his cave, even further off the path than you already
were. Inside his cave you see a table with two chairs. On the table sit
two shot glasses as well as a tray of pickles. You look at the pickles
in bewilderment until the beast explains that they are all he has to
chase drinks with. The beast then invites you to look into his liquor
cabinet and choose the evening's drink of choice.
* If you grab a bottle of Smirnoff and pour two shots, go to [43].
* If the bottle of Jack's catches your eye, go to [44].
[43] (Quarex)
Hesitantly grabbing the bottle of Smirnoff from the cabinet, you
proceed to pour a shot for you and the horrible cycloptic beast. He
looks you straight in the eye, says "Here's looking at you, Kid," and
downs the shot in a split second. He then grabs the bottle and finishes
the rest of it off before you even have a chance to look at your
shot glass a second time. You hoist the shot glass to your lips and down
the shot. Oops, you forgot that alcohol is a poison. You are dead.
The end.
[44] (Ilsundal & Metal Chick)
You hastefully grab the bottle brewed by your good friend Mr.
Daniels, and prepare to pour yourself a shot. The beast abruptly grabs
the bottle after you set it down, and pours himself one. Clenching your
glass, you take a rapid gulp of the liqour, as it burns your throat on
the way down. "Goes down smooth," you shout out, gasping for air in the
process. You notice that this brew has a rather funny after taste, but
none-the-less, you match the cycloptic beast shot for shot. The beast
grins evilly as he watches your body plummet to the cold stone floor.
Hours later, you sense a feeling of warth beating down on your
cheeks. Opening your eyes, you are practically blinded by the sunbeams
shining down from the bright blue sky. You then realize you are no
longer in the beast's cave, and begin to wonder what became of your
friends, if they are alright, and where the hell you are at this
present time. Looking to your side, you notice you are in the middle
of a ring of mushrooms, in a clearing in the forest. Moments later,
you hear an enchanting combination of chimes, harps, and bells. Three
inch winged figures then descend from the sky, each surrounded by a
unique colored aura.
* If you decide to speak with one of these creatures, go to [47].
* If you decide to dance to the beautiful music, go to [48].
* If you decide to eat one of the mushrooms, go to [50].
[45] (Trilobyte)
you leave the distinctly new-age homosexual portion of the
mysterious woods and walk a few thousand feet in a northward direction.
Your head implodes, explodes, MINDWARP. Are you LISTENING to WHAT I'M
SAYING?
YOU ARE STANDING IN AN OPEN FIELD WEST
OF A WHITE HOUSE, WITH A BOARDED FRONT
DOOR.
THERE IS A SMALL MAILBOX HERE.
> OPEN MAILBOX [goto 53]
> GO WEST [goto 54]
[46] (aster)
after you dive into the murky purple water several happy rabbits
follow you them being the happy sheep that they are. you don't feel
very wet, and are able to breath very well so you wonder..*what could
have happened* you open your eyes and find yourself in a deep
underground fortress filled with kings and queens and flowers and three
little pigs and a wolf and her puppies and a dandelion. you look next
to you to find the happy sheep rabbits that had followed you into this
purply pinkish darkish place and you saw nothing but dried out rabbit
hides sewn into little mittens and hats. you instantly forget the rabbit
sheep and grab the cute, warm, things and try them on, they then reach
up and stick forks that have apple pie and whipped cream in your eyes
and up you nose and in you ears until you die a slow, agonizing death.
the end.
[47] (Mutter)
"Hello, there," you say to one of the winged creatures which
lands gracefully on your hand. She hesitates to speak for a few seconds
but then utters in a high-pitched fairy voice what sounds like, "Fuck
you, mother bitch!" Appalled at what you hear, you clasp your hands
together, thus crushing the fairy with a loud crunch. Upon seeing the
gooey remains, the other fairies start to attack by throwing man-eating
jelly beans at you.
Apparently you were unaware that "Fuck you, mother bitch" was a
very polite greeting in fairy-ese -- sucks for you. The end.
[48] (Ilsundal & Metal Chick)
Not at all intimidated by what you see, you proceed to stand, and
dance to the most enchanting music. The creatures are pleased by what
they see, and dance along with you. Brilliant flashes of color seem to
trigger all of your senses -- sight, taste, smell, touch, and hearing.
What seems like no longer then a nano second, you see the sun rising, and
setting in an endless loop, as the faery folk dance most vigorously with
you. Never have you seen such a sight in all of your existence,
unknowingly that this is what you will see for the rest of your
existence. The End.
[49] (PezMonkey)
Your touch accidentally excites your genital region. Your now
erect penis fascinates the Army Men, as it is the biggest, hardest,
throbbingest cock they have ever seen. Because they are, after all,
Army Men, they decide they would like to watch you bone your
role-playing, Dragonlance-owning buddy hardcore. "Keep your pants
down," they yell at you, and force the Geek (whose name, by the way,
is Gary Coleman Salomoski) to bend down in front of you. You ram your
manhood into his ass.
* If you enjoy this, and want to continue, for the pleasure of both the
Army Men and yourself, go to [51].
* If you are scared of what the Army Men might require next, and whisper
in Gary Coleman Salomoski's ear to RUN, go to [52].
[50] (aster)
you love mushrooms, they are your *friend*. but they are very
very very very very evil, so you must be very very very very careful.
you eat it and enjoy it mixing in some dandelion greens and carrots
and rabbit heads. Then you die because the rabbit's bodies come out
and break your legs with mallet and shove your head into a bicycle
spokes on it's way to town. the end.
[51] (Mogel)
The fact that this has been such an utterly strange day,
already has made you reconsider your identity. Your mind is set free,
and you enter a dream-like state, while your body continues having anal
sex. You enter into an out-of-body experience, and are able to float
about the world freely, like you never have before. You more free than
you ever have in your life.
* If you think this is scary, and want to return to the mundane world
of anal sex, go to [74].
* If you want to relive the experience in 6th grade, where you didn't
have enough guts to kiss Melissa Dicter on the lips, go to [75].
* If you want to explore the woods more, floating about, go to [76].
[52] (Meenk)
You tell your buddy to do his best Carl Lewis impersonation at
your signal. You pound into his tight, bleeding rectum, watching for a
chance to escape. The army du0ds begin to get restless and start joking
with each other. One of them starts to tell a long faggot joke and you
slap your pal on the ass, HARD. He takes off like a greyhound on pcp.
You underestimated his acceleration and find yourself writhing on the
floor, screaming, as your friend escapes, your torn penis hanging out
of his asshole. The army du0ds are pissed that you interrupted their
jokes and begin to kick and beat you. They get a large stick and ram
it into your ass, tearing through your intestines, puncturing your
lung. You drown on your own blood. The end.
[53] (TanAdept)
Opening the mailbox reveals a small leaflet.
> READ LEAFLET
The leaflet is, upon closer examination, a postcard
addressed to: "Marc Powell, 2122 Elmwood, Wilmette, IL"
Apparently, it's from a woman named Arual, who wants
to trade an emerald she has for a cat named Kiki.
A return address has been provided.
* If you want to offer Arual something else instead, go to [55].
* If you want to try to mail yourself to Australia, go to [56].
* If you want to > GO NORTH, go to [57].
[54] (TanAdept)
You would need a machete to go further west.
Fortunately, your Boy Scout Vorpal Blade comes close
enough, and you hack your way west into reaches
unimagined by prior adventurers.
Unfortunately, you realize that, since no one was ever
expected to be able to get to this location, you've
come to the edge of the world.
* If you jump off, go to [58].
* If you turn around to go back to the house, go to [59].
[55] (Phairgirl)
You use your trusty Boy Scout Transporter Beam to fling yourself
to the address she had provided. You knock upon the door to find
yourself confronted by a humongous set of breasts and a big toothy
smile. However, she notices you don't have Kiki with you. And before
you can offer the services of your plethora of whores or a cut in your
investments with the Italian mafia, she vaporizes you with her laser
vision. The end.
[56] (Deadpan)
You attempt to remove your extremities so that you can fit the
trunk of your body into the mailbox. However, once you have removed
your legs, genitalia, and left arm, you realize that you have nothing
with which to remove your right arm with and at any rate, you can't
reach to mailbox to pull yourself in. You ponder this Disco Ball World
as you lie, impotently in a pool of your own, surprisingly tangy,
bodily fluids. Eventually you get bored and go home. The end.
[57] (Meenk)
> GO NORTH
You walk up the street to the Pet Store and spend your last few
bucks on a cat. It is a pretty shabby cat, with bald spots, matted fur,
and bent whiskers. Hey, it was cheap. You tie a rope around it's neck
with a homemade sign that says 'Kiki'. You get a box, throw in some
chicken nuggets and a no-spill cup of ice, and stuff the cat inside.
When the mailman comes, you give him the box, purchase an 'OVERNIGHT'
sticker and postage, then kick back and wait. Two weeks later, after
you forgot the woman in Australia and the cat, you received a big
package. You open it, and inside is the BIGGEST FUCKING EMERALD you
have ever seen. You sell it and get some cocaine, cocktails, and
naked party freaks. The end.
[58] (Phairgirl)
As your memories swell up into the back of your mind, you realize
that jumping isn't going to be the worst thing in your life. Your life
was entirely worthless. From the day your pastor spanked you with the
golden chalice to the time your mother pawned your Transformers, you've
known that over the edge was the only way to go. Your jump, a perfectly
executed swan dive, was graceful and exhilarating. However, to your
dismay, you land on a mountain of marshmallows.
* To finish what you've started with your Boy Scout Vorpal Blade,
go to [62].
* To eat the marshmallows, go to [63].
[59] (Deadpan)
As you turn around to go back to the house, John Dillinger steps
out from behind a (before un-noticed) tree holding an advanced sniper
rifle. You realize that you are now in Dallas, Texas with a rather
nice view of Jackie O. cradling John F. Kennedy's broken head in her
lap. He takes a look at you, surprised for a moment, and says "Hail
Eris."
* If you respond "All Hail Discordia.", go to [60].
* If you swoon like a pansy, go to [61].
[60] (Nybar)
You say it loud and say it proud. Sadly, the FUCKING OINKERS
hear and GUN YOU THE FUCK DOWN! YOU'RE DEAD!
* If you choose Arlington National, go to [64].
* If you choose Los Crazy Mexicans Upside-Down Burial Parlor, go to [65].
[61] (Nybar)
You swoon. When you wake up two hours later, you are in an
underground detention center. Worse yet, you have a monster erection.
"Maybe I can help you with that." "Cripes," you think, "it's Natasha,
my deadly love interest. And yet, I do have a rather large erection..."
As she helps you with your pants, your quick, undercover mind devises a
solution to this deadly problem. She takes your pants off.
"Give me a blow-job!", you command!
"Surely dahlink, but only if joo will pleasure my haht loinS
aftah. For you see.. I am the wife of Adolf Hitler! And he is impotent
in one ball, which leaves me not getting any!"
"Ok, if only I can cum hard enough..." you think as she sucks.
"Ok, here goes." You imagine a naked italian, and the resulting
cum-river knocks her into the wall. You use your 1960's teenage,
special agent muscles to snap the urridium bondage gear you are held
captive in.
A red-velvet chair swivels around. A debonaire man sitting in it
says "Very impressive, agent-K. But next time, keep your pants on!
Now, which assignment would you like next?"
* If you respond "Let me kill Hitler!", go to [66] .
* If you respond "Let me find out who dog-napped your poodle!",
go to [67].
[62] (Caitlin)
You start to pull out your Boy Scout blade, but realize there are
walls made up of cucumbers and pizza. Blushing, you remember when you
were penetrated with a cucumber in a very uncomfortable place by your
baby sitter when you were 8 years old. You slide your hand quickly down
your pants, assuming that since you can't see anyone, that nobody is
really there. A small hole develops in the pizza wall, and Mother
Angelica, the popular televangelist, excretes through it like a sticky,
gooey puddle of mud. She reveals to you the secrets of the Universe
and you cry, realizing that when your great aunt masturbated with your
naked Totally Hair barbie, that you were voted to be thrown into a
bright pink jail cell, with a beautiful naked hermaphrodite. It's a
beautiful thing. The end.
[63] (Avenger)
You eat marshmallows and giggle like a schoolgirl. Yay! that
felt good. You giggle like a schoolgirl for several minutes. Is this
fun or what?
Richard Nixon walks over and begins to draw a diagram of the
Reagan administration on your arm. Henry Kissinger covers a mole. Hmm.
This annoys you.
Marcia Brady walks over. She attempts to piss standing up.
Unsuccessful, she helps to giggle like a schoolgirl.
Hillary Clinton walks over. She pulls out a large piece of
styrofoam. She stuffs it in your mouth, and you can no longer giggle
like a schoolgirl.
This tragedy causes your brain to explode. Marcia Brady is now
eating pieces of your head. The end.
[64] (Oeb)
You choose to be buried in Arlington National but the waiting
list for people like you doesn't exist. Your corpse rots forgotten and
you wish you had been cremated. Due to fact you had no proper burial
(or corpse disposal for that matter) your soul wanders around a new
existence. It's awfully confusing for you.
Go to [99].
[65] (Kyst)
Your friends and family journey to Los Crazy Mexican's
Upside-Down Burial Parlor to pay their last respects to you. After
searching all of Texas for the Burial Parlor you have chosen, they find
Los Crazy Mexicans Upside-Down Burial Parlor. The place is a mess, it
didn't occur to you that all of the furniture would be on the ceiling
and therefore your friends would have nowhere to sit, but oh well, that
isn't your problem now, is it? The small crowd gathers around the small
chandelier in the center of the room, below your coffin. A priest walks
into the room and begins the eulogy in Spanish. Everyone begins to cry
and do not notice that a young man is trying to peer into your coffin.
This must be Los Crazy Mexican!!! Hadn't someone warned you about him?!
Bewildered, your loved ones watch as Los Crazy Mexican opens your
coffin. Your corpse spills out and hits the floor with an extremely
loud, meaty "THUD!" sound. This "THUD!" apparently awoke the Los Crazy
Mexicans Upside-Down Burial Parlor's dog. Startled, he leaps from the
corner of the parlor.
* If the dog starts humping your family's legs and pissing on your
carcass, go to [72].
* If the dog begins to devour your dead body, go to [73].
[66] (Vyrus)
"So, you wish to kill Hitler? Are you stupid? This is the 90's,
you fucking moron. And you're stuck in a badly written B-Movie by a
Quintin Tarentino wanna be@!"
Screams. Blackness.
You faintly remember passing out and waking up where John
Dillinger had pointed a highly advanced sniper rifle in your face.
Unfortunately for you, John Dillinger is still there and he
proceeds to take your face off with the butt of his shotgun.
* If you pick your face back up and smush it back on your skull,
go to [68].
* If you use your Boy Scout WannabeMachete to hack HIS face off and
put it on your skull, go to [69].
[67] (Vyrus)
"NOBODY DOG-NAPPED MY POODLE BITCH@! THAT WAS A TRICK!@# ALL
HAIL HITLER AND NOW YOU DIE LIKE THE MUCASY POND SCUM YOU ARE@!"
You look at Dr. Debonaire like he's some kind of fucking weirdo,
and he seems taken aback. Like, you were supposed to flinch or
something?
"Fuck you, d00d. I trade warez. I don't do investigations for
flamers in velvet red chairs. Your bitch gives good head though."
BLAMMO. You're dead. Dr. Debonaire decided that his bitch
giving you head wasn't a good thing at all.
Either that or he just didn't like you.
THE FUCKING END.
[68] (Oeb)
You quickly reach down to grab your face and smush it back on
your skull. Success! The blood dried and clotted just perfectly to hold
a permanently disgruntled visage. You, however, realize that John
Dillinger is still there and still holding a shotgun -- with intent of
using it. You think about pleading for mercy, but what good would it
do, your face is permanently marked, "pissed off."
John Dillinger promptly sticks the barrel of the gun in your
mouth and pulls the trigger removing the head you had just affixed your
face onto. And you're sad because life goes on. You end.
[69] (Avenger)
You now notice the little boy masturbating in the corner, who has
eluded your view this entire time. He looks rather happy, and you ask
him for a $20 to buy some crack.
"Fuck you, jizzsniffer; I've had enough of all your shit; I'm
friends with some powerful people, you know! Richard Nixon, Hillary
Clinton, and Marcia Brady, just to name a few!"
The boy masturbates angrily, to emphasize his words.
You find this rather funny, and decide to hack something.
Finding nothing to hack, you decide to giggle. yeah. giggle.
* If you choose to giggle like a schoolgirl, go to [63].
* If you choose to giggle like a random blunt object, go to [70].
[70] (Avenger)
You giggle like a random blunt object. In this case, an 80-lb.
UNIX manual. For no good reason, you hear the theme to Rocky IV. Rocky
ambles towards you.
"hey! i'm here to save philadelphia!" rocky mutters as he punches
the small masturbating boy's foot. You decide to ponder why donuts have
a hole in them. For desperate guys to fuck? As necklaces for very small
Swedes?
Richard Nixon and Rocky decide to have an apocalyptic conflict.
Oh well, something to pass time.
Hmm. This is pretty fucked up. You wonder who invented the
donut. You wonder why Rocky has a black eye, 30 years after the filming
of the movie.
* If you choose to watch Rocky XV and eat paste, go to [71].
* If you choose to molest Richard Nixon and be extremely confused,
go to [99].
[71] (Cstone)
You grab a random jar of paste and settle down to watch Rocky XV.
(Fortunately, it's been years since you've seen any of the Rocky movies,
so you're entertained by the movie.) You're so engrossed that you don't
notice the peeling red toxic chemical warning label on the jar of paste,
and you mistake the burning nausea from the toxins for hunger pains.
You die. The end.
[72] (Ior)
as the dog pisses on your corpse, you suddenly feel strange
urges, and are surprised as you reawaken as a vampire! you waste no
time in making the dog your vampire slave, and proceed to the rest of
your family. you manage to take out your asshole step-father first
(you've always had a thing about him), but as you step towards your
religious-nut cousin, he pulls out a cross and drives you back! since
you're still not used to your new vampire body, you stumble over your
own feet and fall backwards onto a strategically placed wooden stake.
your body burns up and you know no more. the end.
[73] (Kyst)
The dog ravenously tears through your rotting flesh. Los Crazy
Mexicans Upside-Down Burial Parlor apparently didn't bother to use
embalming fluid on you which explains the smell of the place at least.
The beast rips you limb from limb, scattering your remains all over
your family who shriek with disbelief. The hungry dog shakes you around
like a rag-doll, splattering your stringy, gooey remains onto the walls
of Los Crazy Mexicans Upside-Down Burial Parlor in this botched attempt
to lay your weary body to rest. The end.
[74] (LilNilHil)
You quickly snap back to your senses and realize you are banging
Gary Coleman. Slowly you extract yourself from Gary as to not anger his
washed-up security gaurd ass. This does not work, Gary pulls out a gun,
the army men pull out more guns, and lot's of people die. Including
your lame, homophobic asshole. No one misses you. The end.
[75] (Miasma)
This dream-like state enables you to go back in time in your
mind. You see yourself floating past masturbatory experiments with Pop
Rocks when you were 15, masturbatory experiments with Puddles, the
neighborhood dog, when you were 14 and masturbatory experiments with two
gallons of peach Jello just a couple of days ago. You finally make your
way back to the time you got too scared to kiss Melissa Dicter on the
lips. There she is standing, wearing a baby tee clinging to her ripe
breasts exposing her firm nipples pointing out at you, inviting you,
and she's also wearing a pair of jeans hugging ever curve of her body.
"Oh God, take me NOW!" she screams at you, her chest heaving, her body
yearning.
* If you want to grab her, rip off her clothes, and whip out your
member, go to [79].
* If you want to tell her "I dunno... what would my mommy say?",
go to [80].
[76] (LilNilHil)
You begin to see visions of large bouncing percentage symbols
singing the oompa loompa song.
"This is not good... oh shit," you say, just as a large
percentage shaped creature jumps out at you. He has a schlong that can
knock over trucks, he's more pissed off than your father was that night
at the Browns game, and he's just a bubblin' wif snot. His name is
Mister Walltits, and he wants your money. Now.
* If you would like to pay Mister Walltits, go to [77].
* If you would like Mister Walltits to go fuck himself, go to [78].
[77] (g0ff)
Checking your inventory, you realize that you have 251 gold, an
uncursed piece of violet glass, a +2 bullwhip, a tripe ration, and a
cheap plastic imitation of the Amulet of Yendor. You drop the gold and
walk away, and the hallucinogen-distorted wood-elf takes the money.
At that point, you decide to head upstairs and get yourself out
of the dungeon. On your way up, you find a temple to Quetzacoatl
(Lawful) and decide to take up service as a priest of Quetzacoatl. You
live reasonably happy ever after.
The end.
[78] (Miasma)
You turn to this putrid piece of elephant dung and scream "Why
don't you go fuck yourself, Mister Walltits!" He looks at you pensively.
"Thank you, my good man, thank you. I think I will go fuck myself," he
replies. He takes his gigantic schlong... whips it around and inserts
it into one of his percentage sign holes. Your eyes explode from this
impossible and ludicrous site. Your brain hemorrhages, and after you
die, Mister Walltits makes sweet love to your dead carcass. The end.
[79] (Soybean)
You go to whip out your throbbing, rock-hard wand of light, only
to find it breaking off in your hands. Melissa's shrieks in fear, her
nipples retreat back into her clingy polyester shirt, and you realize
your last shot at becoming a real, sexual human being is lying
shriveled, becoming colder and greyer, in the palm of your shaking hand.
You collapse in angry, frightened tears -- sobbing so hard you begin to
hyperventilate. No oxygen is entering your lungs!!!! You die! The end.
[80] (g0ff)
You remember that your hat says "WWMS", but, forgetting that it
actually stands for "Wild Warez MEoW Society", think to yourself, "What
would mommy say?" Mommy would say, "Clean up your room," "Do the dishes,
please," or "Don't forget about your homework."
Realizing that all these concepts arise from the adage "Finish
what you've started," you decide that your mother really would have
wanted you to kiss Melissa. You throw your arms around her and get in
one brief kiss which lasts but a brief moment.
While the kiss is brief, your relationship and love maintain
themselves throughout the rest of your lives, and you and Melissa
continue to walk the path of life in happy bliss, staying forever away
from Advanced Dungeons & Dragons, sports, cheerleaders, and those who
form cliques.
The end.
[99] (Squinky & French Cubist-cum-Futurist Poet Guilliame Apollinare &
Metalchic, French Goddess-cum-Squinky's Futurist Wife, Breaking
All Of Mogel's Line Restriction Rules)
You are weary at last of this ancient world
Sheperdess O Eiffel tower whose fock of bridges bleats
this morning
You are tired of living in this Greek and Roman Antiquity
Here even automobiles look old
Only religion remains fresh religion
as simple as hangars at the airfield
Alone in Europe you Christianity are not antique
The one modern European is you Pope Pius X
And you whom windows watch what shame keeps you
From enterting a church and confessing your sins this morning
Handbills catalogue advertisements that sing aloud
Furnish your morning's poetry and for prose there are newspapers
Dime detective novels packed with adventure
Biographes of great men a thousand and one titles
This morning I saw a fine stree whose name slips my mind
New and bright the sun's trumpet
Where executives and workers sweet stenographers
Hurry every weekday dawn and night
Three times a morning sirens groan
A choleric bell barks at noon
Lettering on billboards and walls
Doorplates and posters twitter like parakeets
Charm is in this Paris factory street
Between rue Aumont-Thievelle and the avenue des Ternes
Here is a young street and you still a small child
Your mother dresses you only in blue and white
You are very pious and with your oldest friend Rene Dalize
You like nothing so much as the ceremonies of the church
Nine o'clock the gass turns blue you slip out of bed
You pray all night in the school chapel
While an eternal adorable amethyst depth
Christ's flaming halo revolves forever
He is the lovely lily we all worship
He is the red-haired torch no wind may blow out
Pale and scarlet son of the sorrowful mother
Tree hung with prayer
Twofold gallows of honor and eternity
Six-pointed star
A God who dies on Friday and rises on Sunday
Christ who flies higher than the aviators
And holds the world's record for altitude
Christ pupil of the eye
Twentieth pupil of the centuries he knows his business
And changed to a bird this century ascends like Jesus
Devils in hell raise their heads to stare
They say it imitates Simong Magus in Judea
They say if it flies call it a flyer
Angels fly past the graceful trapeze artist
Icarus Enoch Elijah Apollonius of Tyana
Hover near the original airplane
Or give place to those whom the Eucharist elevates
Priests rising continuously as they raise the Host
At last the plane lands with wings outspread
Through heaven come flying a million swallows
At full speed crows owls falcons
Ibises flamingoes storks from Africa
Roc so celebrated in song and story
Clutching Adam's skull the original head
Eagle from the horizon pounces screaming
Hummingbird arrives from America
From China long supple pihis
Who have only one wing and fly in tandem
Here comes the dove immaculate spirit
Escorted by lyrebird and ocellated peacock
That funeral pyre the phoenix engendering himself
Momentarily viels all with his ardent ash
Sirens quit their perilous perches
And arrive each singing beautifully
Everyone eagle phoenix pihis
Fraternizes with the flying machine
Now you stride alone through the Paris crowds
Busses in bellowing herds roll by
Love's anguish tights in your throat
As if you could never be loved again
In the old days you would have entered the monastery
With shame you ctch yourself praying
Or jeer and your laughter crackles like hellfire
It sparks gild the depths of your life
Which like a painting in a somber museum
You approach sometimes to peer at closely
Today you stroll through Paris the women are all covered in blood
It was and I would prefer not to remember it was in beauty's decline
From fervent flames Our Lady gazed down on me in Chartres
Your Sacred Heart's blood drowned me in Montmarte
I am sick of hearing pleasant words
My love is a shameful sickness
You are sleepless anguished but possessed by an image
Which hovers never distant
Now you are by the Mediterranean
Under lemon trees that flower all year long
With your friends you board a ship
One from Nice one from Menton two from La Turbie
We see terrified in the depths giant squid
And fish the Savior's symbols gliding through seaweed
You are in a tavern near Prague
You feel happy instad of writing your stories in prose
You stare at a rose on the table and a
rosebug asleep in the rose's heart
Horrified you trace your likeness in the agates of Saint Vitus
You almost died of grief that day you saw yourself portrayed
as Lazarus blinded by daylight
The hands of the clock in the Jewish quarter run backwards
You also slowly creep backwards through life
Climbing to the Hradchen listening at twilight
To Czech songs from the taverns
You are in Marseilles among piles of watermellons
You are in Coblenz at the Giant's hotel
You are in Rome sitting under a Japanese medlar tree
You in Amsterdam with a girl you find pretty but who is ugly
And engaged to a student from Leyden
One can rent rooms there in Latin Cubuicula locanda
I remember three days there and three at Gouda
You are in Paris arraigned before the judge
Arrested like a criminal
You went on sad and merry journeys
Before growing aware of lies and old age
Love made you unhappy at twenty again at thirty
I have lived like a fool and wasted my youth
You no longer dare examine your hands and at any moment I could
weep
Over you over her whom I love over all that has frightened you
With tears in your eyes you see the poor emigrants
Who have faith in God and pray the mothers nurse their children
Their smell fills the waiting room at the gare St. Lazare
Like the three kings they believe in a star
Hope to strike it rich in ARgentina
And return home wealthy
One family carries a crimson quilt as you carry your heart
Quilt and our dreams are equally unreal
Some of these emigrants stay on and lodge
In slums on the rue des Rosiers or the rue des Ecouffes
I have seen them often walking at dusk
They keep close to home like chessmen
And are mostly Jewish their wives wear wigs
Pallid they sit at the back of little shops
You stand at the counter of a dirty bar
You have a coffee for two sous with the other riffraff
You are in a huge restaurant at night
These women are not evil only wornout
Each has made her lover suffer even the ugliest
Who is the daughter of a policeman on the Isle of Jersey
Her hands which I had not noticed are calloused and cracked
The scars on her belly fill me with immense pity
I humble my mouth by offering it to a poor slut with a horrible laugh
You are alone when morning comes
Milkmen clink bottles on the street
Night leaves like a lovely Metive
Ferdine the false or watchful Lea
You sip a liquor that burns like your life
Your life you drain like an eau-de-vie
You stride home to Auteuil
To sleep among your fetishes from Oceania or Guinea
Other forms of Christ and other faiths
Lesses Christ of lesser aspirations
Adieu Adieu
The sun a severed neck
THE END
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!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! #400, WRITTEN BY VARIOUS ARTISTS, 1/4/98 !!
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