124 lines
6.2 KiB
Plaintext
124 lines
6.2 KiB
Plaintext
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Underground eXperts United
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Presents...
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[ Diary Entry 8[15]99 ] [ By DisordeR ]
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____________________________________________________________________
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____________________________________________________________________
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Diary Entry 8[15]99
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Sunday night has come and gone, time spent at the usual. I can't
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help but wonder why I go to that place with all the preppy assholes.
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Even dancing alone I feel a thousands eyes staring me up and down, as
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if they are fighting over which one will come up and verbally molest
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me next. I can't even wear half my clothes in that place since they
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take nice outfits to mean "please, date rape me". Fuckers.
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Tonight was different though. Four hours of public solitude interrupted
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by some guy who had the nerve to catch my eye. Just as I had resolved
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myself to give up on dating and men in general, someone stands out and
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actually makes me wonder. I am not pleased with myself. Becoming
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a lesbian had a certain appeal.
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Nothing stood out about this guy at all. Perhaps that is what bothers
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me and has prompted me to flesh out my thoughts right now. Average
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height, average looks. He looked a bit beyond his age from what I could
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tell, but not unattractive. For all intents and purposes, just
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'average'. dressed in solitary, unrelenting black, except for his shirt,
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which stated in bleach discolorment "shy".
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No doubt that is what prompted some dickhead jock to start in on him.
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At first it was just bumping into him while dancing. Then it lead to
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dirty looks and implied confrontation, as if the jock was begging for
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a fight. Mr. Shy shrugged it off and continued to dance to himself, barely
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looking up at anyone, often dancing for minutes at a time with his eyes
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closed.
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I thought nothing would happen. Mr. Shy showed patience and tolerance
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well beyond what I would have had I been in his boots. Anyone that received
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that much shit in a one hour period was a likely candidate to go postal
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(to be politically incorrect). So I danced, all night long as close to
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him as I could. No matter how much I looked at him I couldn't get up
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the nerve to talk. Yes, me, the so called slut couldn't hit on him.
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The last part of the night was a blur, but I won't forget it I don't
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think. The jock squaring off with Mr. Shy under the light in the parking
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lot. Challenging him and insulting him for every pathetic reason that
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came to mind. Situations like this disgust me and I guess I wasn't the
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only one. Mr. Shy stood there with his hands clasped behind his back,
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with a look of pity on his face.
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Before a crowd could gather, jock loser lashed out and punched Mr. Shy
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in the jaw. It whipped his head around in such a way I thought his neck
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could have been broken. Surprise. Instead of falling back or reacting
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in any normal fashion, Mr. Shy slowly turned his head back around. A
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trickle of a tear streamed down his left cheek. The smile that adorned
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his face was one of intense pleasure and evil rolled in one. It had the
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same shocking effect on jock loser as it did me I believe.
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I can't remember exactly what Mr. Shy said, and I don't think I heard it
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all either. He was smiling, licked the blood running at the corner of his
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mouth and said "Any more of that and you're going to turn me on." I don't
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know if he meant it or was just saying it to get a reaction out of the
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preppy asshole, but it worked. Jockboy looked around as if this was some
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kind of joke, or maybe looking for his friends or merely reassurance that
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he was still cool. Didn't matter.
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Jockboy tried to don a face of anger and lashed out again, once again
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to the jaw. Mr. Shy stood there, head whipped back again, hands clasped
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behind his back. It was my turn to look around as if this was some kind
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of joke. Compared to the jock, he was small, almost frail even. I had
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stepped forward to see what was going on and hear anything further.
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I'm glad I did. Mr. Shy responded to the second hit with a more disturbing
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comment. "This is foreplay bitch."
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It must have been a minute later, that or Mr. Shy's reflexes were much
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better than I could imagine. It seemed like five seconds at the time. Four
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hits to the face, three to the gut, and a swift kick to jock's balls
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making sure he would get no play that night. The controlled rage that
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must have been pumping through Mr. Shy was impressive. No other way
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to describe it.
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As jock loser lie bleeding on the ground, Mr. Shy sat on his chest pinning
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him to the asphalt. He reached down grabbing Jockboy's shirt, half pulling
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him up, half leaning down. I couldn't hear what Mr. Shy said, but it had
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its intended effect. I don't recall seeing terror personified on someone's
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face like it was on Jockboy's. Scary shit.
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The transition from shy dancer enjoying the music to savage ass kicker
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extrodinaire. Someone so plain and average, yet so different even though
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we didn't talk. I'm glad to have seen him for the short term tonight.
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He is the first guy that has brought back feelings I lost over a year
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ago after breaking up with John. Strangers dance in the night, and I
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pay the price of solitude a bit longer.
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by: DisordeR <disorder@attrition.org>
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---------------------------------------------------------------------------
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uXu #514 Underground eXperts United 1999 uXu #514
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http://www.uXu.org/
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