81 lines
4.3 KiB
Plaintext
81 lines
4.3 KiB
Plaintext
ÞßÜ ÞßÜ ÜßÜ ÞßÜ Þ Ý ÞßÜ ÜßÜ ßÝß ÞßÜ ÜßÜ ÜßÜ ÞßÜ
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ÞÜÝ ÞßÜ Ý Þ ÞÜÝ Þ Ý Þ Þ Ý Þ Ý Þ Þ Ý Þ Ý Þ Þ Þ
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Þ Þ Þ Ý Þ Þ ÞßÝ Þß Ý Ý Þß \ Ý Þ ÞÜ
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Þ Þ Þ Ý Þ Þ Þ Ý Þ Þ Ý Þ Ý Þ Þ Ý Þ Ý Þ Þ
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Þ Þ Þ ßÜß Þ Þ Ý ÞÜß ßÜß ÜÝÜ ÞÜß ÞÜÝ ßÜß Þ
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ÞßÜ ßÝß Þ Þ Ý Ý ÜßÜ ßÝß ÜßÜ Þ Þ
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Þ Þ Ý Þ Þ Ý Ý Ý Þ Ý Ý Þ Þ\Þ
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Þ Þ Ý Þ Þ Ý Ý \ Ý Ý Þ Þ Þ
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Þ Þ Ý Þ Þ Ý Ý Ý Þ Ý Ý Þ Þ Þ
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ÞÜß ÜÝÜ ÞÜÜ ÞÜÜ ÞÛ ÞÜÝ ÜÝÜ ßÜß Þ Þ
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ÞßÜ Ý Ý ÞMÝ ÜßÜ ßÞß Þ Ý ÞßÜ ÞßÜ ÞßÛ ÜÛÜ
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Þ Þ ÞÞ Þ Ý Ý Þ Þ Þ Ý Þ Þ ÞßÜ Ý Þ Ý Þ
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ÞßÞ Ý Þ Ý Ý Þ Þ ÞßÝ Þß Þ Þ ÞÜÜÜ ßßßÝ
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Þ Þ Ý Þ Ý Ý Þ Þ Þ Ý Þ Þ Þ Þ Ý Þ Ý Þ
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ÞÜß Ý Þ Ý ßÜß Þ Þ Ý ÞÜß Þ Þ ßÛß ÛÜÝ
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ÄÍ DISCLAIMER ÍÄ
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Everything depicted in this file is not reality, unless otherwise described by
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the author, Mother 69. With that, please enter my mind and have a safe and
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uninformative journey.
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-=* REALITY *=-
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Well, since this is my first text file, and I am a text lamer as of this
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writing, I guess that it should be about what has happened to me that would
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make me want to do something like this. As it is with everyone else, I was
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fucked up because of my parental units, my father to be exact. You see, he
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decided to leave the "picturesque" lifestyle that we had to go off with his
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old highschool sweetheart that we'll call "Bunny". Sure she has nice large
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hooters, and a nice butt, but is that anyway to start a relationship? Well
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maybe it is, but I get absolutely nothing out of it, so it doesn't really
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matter to me in the least bit why he did it. And because of this, I am the
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mentally disturbed motherfucker that you are reading about. There is also
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the times that I had the shit beaten out of me in elementary by big groups
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of people that didn't understand me at all, I was the "outcast" of my place
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of institutionilization. Otherwise known as school. It was here that many
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escapades that I will tell you about, and other escapades that really have
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absolutely nothing to do with school, but more with sex, the universe, me,
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and everyone's fave: drugs.
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Let's start off with sixth grade, the formative year that basically had
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everyone guessing exactly what made me tick, and be such a fucking weird-o.
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You see, I was the kind of kid that thought that it was funny to mess with
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the teacher's head by putting pentagrams on the tops of my hands and then
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go to reading group and constantly stare at the teacher. Another thing that
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I would do would to write stories. Wonderful pieces of liturature such as
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Rambo meets the Carebears, Leslie's Bunnies from Hell, Why the World is such
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a shit hole (one of my least famous works), assorted plannings that depicted
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taking over the school by first taking over the cafeteria to gain access to
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all of the forks and knives and then holding the teachers hostage, then to
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have a helecopter land in the school's parking lot to take me to Mexico where
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I would fuck the women, but not drink the water.
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-=* Fiction *=-
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I had an ego at this time, I was the bully of the school and everyone liked
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me for it. No one messed with me, I used to sit in the back of class saying
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absolutely nothing but what the teacher wanted to hear, and handing in my
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homework every night. I was a model student and everyone liked me sooooooooo
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much that I had to use a planner to organize my life. "Well lemmie see, I
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can fit you in for about 15 minuets on Wendsday at 5:30pm, and... that's it."
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-=* Reality *=-
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Well, maybe it didn't exactly happen that way, but it would have been nice
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to have that as my reality. I was the exact opposite of all of that, sadly
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enough. No one noticed my nervous ticks for what they were, I used to spaz
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out when I got home with them after a typical day at school, and I still have
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them. Why do I have to be blessed with this? Ah, fuck 'em, fuck 'em all. I
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have given up on what other people think about me.
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_____________________________________________________________________________
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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Well, so much for THO file # 1, hopefully the ones in the future will be
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more entertaining, I have alot of material to work with anyways.
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-=* Mother 69 *=-
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