164 lines
7.8 KiB
Plaintext
164 lines
7.8 KiB
Plaintext
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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #571
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`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8
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888 888 888 888 888 "How Hardk0re Learned To
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888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8 Stop Worrying and Love"
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888 888 888 888 888 "
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888 888 `88b d88' 888 o by Kaia [4/14/99]
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o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8 Purchased by Hardcore (HOE #461)
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Why couldn't life be as simple as it was in first grade? Oceans of
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girls used to flock to Hardk0re during recess, giggling as they watched him
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draw. His specialty, as it was widely known, was pre-WWI United States
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presidents. Even his gym teacher admired his art; George Washington and
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Andrew Jackson were as good as doctors' notes, even on physical fitness
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test days.
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During field trips to the Natural History museum or the Maple Syrup
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factory, the sweetest girls fought to sit next to him. Still, he was
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always upset that he couldn't get them to be anything more than "friends."
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Although he liked playing Barbie with the girls and always being Ken, he
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still felt curious yearnings to tear off his classmates' dresses and steal
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their frilly little panties.
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Nothing had changed since then: Hardk0re still drew a crowd
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whenever he left his Park Place apartment for Ramapo Graphics where he
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worked as a culinary artist, drawing pictures of food in restaurant menus.
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He still had girlishly inverse muscles, still ate his Puffity-Flakes with
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Yoo-Hoo each morning... and still wasn't getting the romantic attention he
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needed and wanted so badly. Granted, his first grade obsession with little
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girls had become a full-blown grown-up obsession with women -- specifically,
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tearing off their dresses and stealing their panties. But sometimes he
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feared his sex life had peaked in first grade, because no one had
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worshipped his gifts since. Even presidential portraiture gets old, and
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nobody respects culinary portraiture these days.
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Although Hardk0re considered himself straight, liking only women
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and their underwear, he was not afraid of looking gay. In fact, he
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frequently acted like a gay man. Every time he left his home, he screamed,
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"I'm OUT and PROUD!" and "I'm HERE and QUEER!" because he thought he was
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being Mr. Brave/Funny Guy. "How courageous I am," he thought, "I'm acting
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how other guys are always afraid of acting!" He also wanted to debunk the
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myth that only gay people look gay, draw the attention of the artsy girls
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who fall in love with gay men, and draw the attention of the gay men,
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because they were generally better company than straight men. And today,
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as usual, he did all three. But as the crowds and odd glances dissipated,
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he couldn't believe what was about to happen: a beautiful brunette in a red
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dress and sunglasses emerged from the crowd and approached him.
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"I've seen you here every day, Hardk0re" she said, "And I find your
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mad screaming to be quite charming. And I know you're not actually gay,
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just pretending."
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"H--how did you know my name?"
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"I can't explain now. Just listen closely." Her breath smelled
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like oranges as she touched his shoulder and drew her lips to his ear.
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"Put this--"
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"This? What's that?"
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"Unfortunately, if I told you, you wouldn't believe me." She
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removed her sunglasses. "Trust me, it will be good for you to do exactly
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as I say. Now stick out your tongue, and--"
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"Umm, I'm not interested, thanks!" He started to leave.
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"LISTEN TO ME, Hardk0re." She knew his vulnerability, according to
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what the Googagon Crystal Federation crystal had told her that morning.
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For the first time in ten years, the crystal had spoken for the gathering
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of meditating Federation onlookers! "I haven't had sex for four years.
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Maybe you can help me out?"
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His heart rate doubled. Did someone just say 'sex'? He decided to
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execute the "Pity Me, Please" mack. "Why should four years without sex
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impress me? I've gone 19 years without it."
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"No questions, just answers. Put this on your tongue," she said,
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handing him a small pink paper square, "and do not swallow for five
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seconds. Do it."
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"Doud." He watched the square glisten invitingly like a warm vagina
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(or at least how he imagined one would be). Tomorrow he'd be able to tell
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his friends about how he was seduced by a beautiful woman who gave him
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drugs and free love and finally her panties, and he would lick her panties
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and smell them and wrap them around his head like a blindfold that would
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make him cum thirty-three times. . . "That's not LSD, is it?"
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"This? No! It's pSTD."
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"pre-Sexually-Transmitted-Disease?"
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"Hey, this is no laughing matter, Hardk0re. I was instructed by
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Kroh to administer this to you so that you may join us who Understand. We
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who Know."
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"Know..know what? And why?"
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She didn't actually know the answers. "Here," she said, handing
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him the pink square. "Try."
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"Tell me what it is first, and then I might do it." In his hand,
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part of a picture of a dancing bear on the pink square seemed to be singing
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to him.
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She took a deep breath. "It's a Parietal Serotonic Tracking Device.
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Every weekend, the crystal sheds pSTDs like confetti, and we collect them
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in huge buckets to dispense to those who we want to save." She smiled.
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"We of the Federation celebrate every seven days. We are healthy and
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strong. The pSTDs can show you the way to love, but the rest is up to
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you."
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"Hm." She had really nice cleavage. Maybe she even wore a
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g-string.
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"On this planet, there are so many people who do not know how to
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love: neither themselves nor other people. They go through life,
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frustrated and confused over why they are unhappy, and it affects how they
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treat others, approaching every social situation as a threat or
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confrontation. Have you ever wondered why some people don't just chill
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out, play a little music..?"
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"Hey, I could make you an awfully nice painting of Bill Clinton in
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the Oval Office, or even a malted milkshake, if you like.."
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"Listen to me." She was serious. "No one is doomed. There is a
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race of individuals who do love, unconditionally-"
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"What race?"
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"The Googagons.."
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"Oh my." Hardk0re was now convinced that she was a little loony.
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But he did want her panties, and so he had to play flirty-boy. "Here's
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the scoop, sweetie-pie. I'll be among the 'Knowing,' anyday, if it means
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I could be Knowing you. But I've never heard of these so-called
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Googagons! What'll we do?!%$"
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She sighed. "It doesn't matter, baby." More desperate measures
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would be needed. She flashed her best come-hither. "If I can't have you,
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I don't want anyone." She was on fire. "Now just put it on your tongue,
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and..." Go. "..Hm, what's that?"
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"Excuse me, you're on fire!"
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In a matter of milliseconds, while he was distracted by the flaming
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corner of her dress, she put another pink square on her own tongue. "Here,
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watch this." She licked her fingers and extinguished it. "Prada, 1999.
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'It's what's hot!'"
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He was spellbound.
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"In a few seconds I'll be giving you a small grey envelope. Do not
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open it immediately. Instead, take it to the nearest Acme market, hand it
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to the man looking at applesauce in Aisle 3. He will show you the way."
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"But what about you?" The world was starting to look more vibrant
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already.
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"I'll see you there." She flashed her panty-line, Calvin Klein.
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #571 - WRITTEN BY: KAIA - 4/14/99 ]
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