97 lines
4.0 KiB
Plaintext
97 lines
4.0 KiB
Plaintext
s$
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$$ .d""b. .d""b. HOE E'ZINE #1096
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[-- $$""b. $$ $$ $$ $$ -- ------------------------------------------- --]
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$$ $$ $$ $$ $$ss$$ "Save A Lot, Roland"
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$$ $$ $$ $$ $$ by Trilobyte
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$$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ 06/16/00
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[-- $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ $$ -- ------------------------------------------- --]
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$$ $$ "TssT" "TssT"
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an old man named roland sold his soul to once more enjoy the cold
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warm embrace of a forlorn young maiden. this one was named bernice.
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"my milk is not yet ripe," bernice cried to herself, with tears on
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her cheeks.
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"that is fine," roland replied, "i can go to the supermarket to get
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some two percent."
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and he went in his dodge durango to the local Sav-A-Lot. he found
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two percent milk, a jug of it, and some croutons, and took them to the
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checkout aisle, where an old woman with graying hair awaited him.
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"cash check or credit," she inquired, as roland pulled out his worn
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leather wallet.
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"cash," he replied.
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the transaction went without a hitch. the bagboy, a teenager with
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body piercings and no intelligence, delicately placed roland's milk jug
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into a plastic bag without asking a preference. it didn't matter.
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roland took hold of the bag and left the checkout aisle. sauntering
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toward the automatic door he tripped on some loose celery and dropped the
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milk, which exploded all over the floor.
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"damn my clumsiness," thought roland. leaving the mess of milk
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there for someone to clean up, he took his croutons out to his dodge
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durango and greeted a cigarette.
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"how many years has it been since you were born?" the cigarette
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asked him.
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"something near 50," roland replied.
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"you've got no excuse to still be making mistakes, roland."
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roland sighed.
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"just get a trailer and toupee and call it quits, roland."
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roland scratched his chin.
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"you just wasted a good two dollars back there, clumsy."
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roland looked at the sky.
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"your girl isn't going to be happy, roland."
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roland threw the cigarette at the ground, put it out with his foot,
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and hopped into his truck.
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the ride home was a lot of silence and street lights. bernice was
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still crying when roland walked in the door.
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"i'm sorry, bernice, i didn't get the milk," roland told her. he
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walked over to her, seated in her favorite chair, and put his hand on her
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shoulder. a zap of static electricity shocked him.
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"what... why?" she asked between sobs.
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"i'm just a clumsy old fool," he sighed. bernice sighed too.
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croutons are never enough.
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roland collapsed sitting onto the hardwood floor and cupped his face
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in his hands as his eyes rolled back into his head. silence. nobody
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cried, nobody spoke. the dog, an australian terrier, barked. a ghost
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entered the room unnoticed. particles of dust floated around.
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roland stood up and went into the kitchen where he dunked his head
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in the sink. there was no water. he went to the refrigerator but decided
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not to open it so he stood looking at the back door.
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"AAAAEHHHHHHHHH," bernice shrieked. with a clunk, she fell from her
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chair.
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roland rushed back to where bernice had been sitting and discovered
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her body sprawled out dead on the floor. he lit up another monotonous
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cigarette.
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"you shouldn't have been so hasty with your decisions, roland."
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"i guess not."
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"it's time to move on, roland."
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"i guess so."
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"first off you need to stop listening to me, roland."
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"okay."
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*the end*
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[note from author: any reference to supernatural happenings,
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backwoods mentality, or premature death in the above text are not meant
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to condone tobacco smoking or spirituality]
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[-------------------------------------------------------------------------]
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[ (c) HOE E'ZINE -- http://www.hoe.nu #1096, BY TRILOBYTE - 6/16/00 ]
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