111 lines
5.5 KiB
Plaintext
111 lines
5.5 KiB
Plaintext
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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #723
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`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8 "The Biggest, Largest, Most
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888 888 888 888 888 Exciting Heist of All Time
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888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8 Chapter 2: The Gathering Storm"
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888 888 888 888 888 " by Nybar
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888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 7/6/99
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o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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"We'd better get going." The reception on the TV was rather grainy.
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Mogel and Nybar were evidently about to leave "Yeah, I've got to get
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supplies." This was NybarKeith and Guy were hearing this over their
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FBI-esque monitoring equipment, in a one-room apartment just across the
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street from the diner. Nybar had told them to stay there four hours
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earlier. Either one of them would have seperately, presented with the
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opportunity, waited to get into the apartment, and beaten Nybar up, and
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stolen anything worth stealing. But with both of them there, it had a
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gyroscopic, see-saw balancing type affect. They were wary of taking each
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other on, and couldn't come to an agreement that might split everything
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50-50. It was wise of Nybar to get both of them. Besides, there was
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something about him that neither of them trusted.
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Keith "This is fucking BORING man."
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Guy "What, need a hit?" he laughed, a smooth basso chuckle. His
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laugh fit him, he was a big guy.
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Keith "Fuck you man."
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Guy "Don't say fuck you to ME, you American wannabe spic
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mothefucker... I've been raping your two dads up the ass since before you
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were sucking your momma's dick."
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As always, pride overcame better interests and intelligence in the
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underworld. If only they could find a way of working together for the
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betterment (economically and spiritually) of all of them... but it will
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never happen. People are just naturally assholes, especially in the kill
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or be killed enviroment of the lower class.
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Keith "Don't go there... just don't even go there."
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Guy chuckled again.
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Keith "No, I don't mean about yo' dumbass insult talkin about my mama
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and pa; never gave a shit about them. Talkin' bout tha 'american wannabe'
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part. Take that back you fuck---"
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Keith was, tragically, a pretty smart guy. But he couldn't afford to
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just live his life in peace because of his NAME. All the homeboys
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constantly made fun of him for not having a name like Ramon or Jesus. He
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always had to try to live his name down, make himself stand out. Beat the
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white kid a little bit harder, smoke a little bit more chronic, whatever.
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The thing that really pissed him off is that he never had a chance to be
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properly mad at his mother, who gave him the name... she was long gone. And
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so here he was, a smart crackhead lured in by an offer he couldn't refuse of
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Nybar's. Being naturally suspicious (as most smart people are), he had a
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whiff of what was up. But he didn't know that what he had was just that: a
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scent of greater things brewing. Being the more intelligent (if more fucked
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up) of the two, he was also disgusted by the way Guy would jeapordize the
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whole operation.
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Guy "I'll say whatever the fuck I want, but for now I'll lay off and
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we'll finish this job. After this job is finished (and if I get my way
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it'll be over very soon), you're mine."
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Keith "Chill hombre... lets finish this job, get the loot, eh?"
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Guy grunts. He grunted like a pig. Once again, fitting for his size
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and stature. Then, there was silence, as both silently momentarily agreed
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to put aside their argument and concentrate on the task at hand... though
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neither of them really knew what this was.
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Meanwhile, on the screen, Nybar and Mogel are in a hardware store.
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Nybar puts a 100 dollar bill on the counter, and the mustachio'd owner of
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the store with the bald pate makes a sweeping gesture towards the bottom of
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the counter. "We've got all your typical action/adventure shit here...
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rifle, grappling hook, Indiana Jones-style hat, compass, enemas (just
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because you're old and constipated doesn't mean you can't enjoy a kickin'
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adventure!), everything!" said the owner.
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"Good" replied Nybar "I'll be wanting it all. For we're going after
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the nirvana of lazy 'zine heads, the 7'th heaven anyone who doesn't have
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the time or inclination to write something original must always search for.
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Except we won't search for it; we'll FIND it. Yes... it will be...
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magnificent! BWAHAHAHAHA!"
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"But-- Nybar" Mogel interjected into Nybar's post grandiose-speach
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cackling "What the fuck are you talking about?"
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"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Mogel. You've spent most
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of your jewish life looking for it yourself."
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"Surely you don't mean..."
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"I *do*. And instead of actually saying what I'm talking about,
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I'll just let the pot boil some more."
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While Mogel and Nybar had been conversing, the owner was bagging
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their equipment and supplies. He now handed the bags to Nybar and Mogel,
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who headed outside to put them in the van. Which is when disaster struck...
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a whizzing sound...
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Mogel "Nybar, I've been shot" and Mogel fell.
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TO BE CONTINUED...
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #723 - WRITTEN BY: NYBAR - 7/6/99 ]
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