187 lines
8.7 KiB
Plaintext
187 lines
8.7 KiB
Plaintext
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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #801
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`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8
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888 888 888 888 888 "Daddy's Grammar Princess
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888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8 Goes Down The Drain"
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888 888 888 888 888 " by CannibalButterfly
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888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 9/1/99
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o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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I woke up in a cold sweat. Chills running up my spine and thoughts
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disintegrating. Y-o-u-r. Y-o-u-'-r-e.
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Your losing who you really are? You're losing who you really are?
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Your losing who you really are? You're losing who you really are?
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True, false, multiple choice? Is this some kind of sick mind game?
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When I was a tender child my father insisted on drilling my grammar
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and spelling skills. It was exhausting, but I would like to say it payed
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off. Daddy and I made a good team. He had this special little box he would
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call the 'Education Castle'. He just loved to shove me in there and beat it
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with a huge stick. I got scared a lot, but I never told daddy. Thank God
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for those two very small air holes.
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Sometimes he would give me sentences to repeat and I would have to
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spell them out. I would even get bread and water if I got a perfect score
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for the day. That was exciting!
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"You're going to die." Now your turn, princess.
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"You're going to die. Y-o-u-r g-o-i-n-g t-o d-i-e."
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For some reason this upset my daddy and he began beating the box and
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calling me a lot of foul words. Daddy was in a rage.
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"You moronic brat! You're a god damn mistake!! Y-O-U-'-R-E YOU ARE
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Y-O-U-'-R-E YOU ARE!!!! Until you learn the difference between you're and
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your you'll never make anything of yourself in life!!"
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Once upon a time I was considered to be an intelligent individual.
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Boy oh boy, I sure was a character. I loved myself more than Dennis Wipe
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your feet before tripping over his ego Rodman. I had charm, grace, and a
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certain Rico Suuuuuuuaaave flavor to me. (By the way, he melts my "I can't
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believe it's not butter!") Well, now I just burn holes through my hands
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and drool over pictures in my Around the World in 101 recipes cook book.
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Only God knows what turkish spam casserole tastes like, but my bottom lip
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shivers at the mere thought.
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I guess it's time for me to cut to the chase, huh?
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It was a chilly November afternoon. My nipples were hard and I was
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belching like an aging Irish man at a grubby pub on Mardi Gras. The wind
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pounded away at my skull, but no ideas would even as much stutter their way
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out. This paper is everything to me. These few paragraphs will define who
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I am and predict my future. See, this report needed to be flawless...kind
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of like myself. If I didn't ace this test then my scholarship would be
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buried and given to some other spoiled bitch who'd deserve it even less than
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myself.
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I needed to make daddy proud. This seems simple enough. I've
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written many excellent papers in my day, but this pressure was mounding up.
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The tapping of my nails on the desk was annoying the hell out of me, but I
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couldn't keep myself from doing it. I stared at my fingers as they moved
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all about and couldn't help but cross my legs. This strangely turned me on.
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I think we all know what happened after that, eh? Five minutes of
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thigh quivering pleasure and my head was clearer than Leotardo Dicraprio's
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skin.
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Suddenly, like a large sweaty man breaking every bone of my body, a
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topic for my paper rushed into me. Female masturbation. It was unique and
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very risky. J Ya gotta love that!
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Before beginning my paper I did a little more research. (If you
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catch my drift, wink wink) I was really starting to love this homework
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assignment!!
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Typing and typing. Experimenting and experimenting. I thought my
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fingers were just going to fall off. Luckily though, I wear a lot of rings
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so they're pretty damn muscular and can handle a lot of strenuous work. Go
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me!!
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A few hours ticked away and my paper was just about done. I even
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threw in a few 'helpful hints for the beginner'. I figured Mr. Smith would
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find those to be most interesting. It took me what seemed to be years to
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finish this paper, but it was perfection. A masterpiece at that! I could
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just taste the big fat 12 oz A+ that would be slapped on that puppy with a
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purdy red pen.
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I woke up extra early and got to class before anyone else. I kissed
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my title page and set it on the teacher's desk. I can feel it...Yale, Here
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I come!! I've got the whole world at the tip of my fingers. (no pun
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intended, hardy har har)
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Maybe I should stop here and tell you about Mr. Smith. He's one of
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the best teachers at my school and considers me to be his top student.
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Hell, who could blame him? He has this beautiful long hair and his life
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seems to revolve around it....cherishes it in fact. Kind of reminds me of a
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generic Fabio, but dont tell him I said that. He wears these bright pink
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hair barrettes and insists his little daughter gets pouty if he leaves the
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house without them. Yeah, okay, I'm not buying that pitiful story, simply
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because he has no children.
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It was the last day of school and I was on cloud 9. Just waiting to
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lay eyes on my A.
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What a fucking traffic jam!! Pass the papers back!! I hate this
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system of giving papers back. You know everyone in front of you takes a
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sneak peak at your grade.
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Alas!! Slightly wrinkled, but still heavenly!! I took a deep breath
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and let out a bloody scream.
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"A MOTHER FUCKING B!!!!! NO ONE GIVES ME, DADDY'S LITTLE PRINCESS, A
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MOTHER FUCKING B!!!!!"
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I could easily try to bicker and beg the teacher to change my grade,
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but this absolutely disgusted me.
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Maybe the kid who picks his nose and rotates the same 2 outfits.
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Maybe the skank class wench who never closes her legs.
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But me??
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"DADDY'S MOTHER FUCKING LITTLE PRINCESS DOES NOT GET A B!!!!!"
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I wanted to rip out Mr. Smith's golden locks. He was going to pay
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for this one.
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"Topic is original, but use in grammar is slightly poor. Make sure
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not to confuse your and you're. B+"
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Tears flew down my blushed cheeks and I blew my top. The memories of
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the box suffocated me. I'm just daddy's mistake allover again. I ran out
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of the room in a fury and my life was drained from me.
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I arrived home and dreadfully broke the news to my parents. I
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thought they would have handled it better, but daddy turned red and his
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veins were popping out of his neck. He kept yelling how I should have never
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been born and I needed to be swept under the carpet.
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One minute and 28.326 seconds later...
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I was tossed out the door and told to never return. I was a grammar
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disgrace to the family. I thought this was just temporary so I went and got
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my nails done while waiting for daddy to call me on my cell phone. I
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expected him to apologize and order me to get home.
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Hmm, maybe he lost the number??
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Here I am, 41 and still waiting for that phone to ring. Swimming in
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my own self pity. I'm topping the scales and packing the poundage. I fell
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into a deep depression for 13 years until a friend of mine let me borrow a
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few of her self help tapes. Sure, it's brain washing on a cassette, but a
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lot cheaper than a psychologist. Anyhoot, I'm feeling better now.
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I didn't quite get to college, but beauty school is the next best
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thing. Well, atleast that's what my psychic friend said anyway. Thankyou
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Dionne Warwick!!
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I even got a hold of Mr. Smith, the dirty cum guzzling prick. He
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apparently lost his job for seXXXually harASSing the lunch ladies and lives
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in a grocery buggy on 5'th and Main. I guess he got what he deserved. Now
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he's poor, homeless, and has no hair due to an 'over heating process' in the
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salon. Ooops! Did I do that!? You can never trust beauty school students.
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Teehee.
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I work at the Juice Hut and do discount jheri curls for low income
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households now. The money isnt great, but the folks sure do appreciate a
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person. Even if they did make a B once in their life.
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Just remember kiddies....Your going to pay for your mistakes.
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You're going to pay for your mistakes. Errr. Your..no you're..
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you.... no you're!
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My life may suck, but I still have my beloved masturbation.
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Amen.
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[--------------------------------------------------------------------------]
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #801 - BY: CANNIBALBUTTERFLY - 9/1/99 ]
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