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Doomed to Obscurity Issue 13
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+ doomed to obscurity + issue thirteen + august 27th, 1996 +
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`9$$$$$$$$$$bsssd$$$$$$$ `9$$$$$bsssd$$$$$$$$$P' `9$$$$$bsssd$$$$$$$$$$P'
"go to town, burn it down, turn around,
and get your stroll on, baby" - greg dulli
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+ editorial
+ submitted by - jamesy
this is where i get to write the editorial. mogel has given me a
list of things to say in the editorial: the one year anniversary of dto,
eerie's next installment of the chaos theory has a oh-so controversial
sexually explicit part, fS is in boarding school (marzbanie@okie.ncssm.edu),
talk about the web page, ask people to write, mention the new writers this
month (trilobyte, oregano), and so on. he's pretty damned demanding,
sometimes.
in fact, a little *too* demanding.
it's about time things in dto changed. the old regime is getting a
little dusty, if you ask me. mogel is a chronic procrastinator, tao is a
manic depressive, eerie is a bastard, murmur is too busy to get anything
done, and i'm plain psychotic. so, in lieu of these circumstances, there's
only one thing to do.
we're handing dto over to my roommate.
my roommate is the free-thinking form dto needs in order to grow.
for instance, tonight. tonight my roommate sat around in his boxers looking
for porn on the web for a few hours with a friend, drank a little, and then
watched porn on tv for a few more hours.
"what's all that purple stuff?" he asks me.
"text .." i explain.
"whatcha writing?"
"i'm working on the zine i told you about .."
"oh .. just makin' stuff up?"
"yeah," i respond.
he's currently watching some movie with a sharon stone type actress
parading around mysteriously, killing a fucking lot of people. he's still
in his boxers. he gets drunk a lot. he has a p166 w/ 32 megs ram, a color
scanner, a color bubblejet printer, and guess what? a PASSWORD on his
screen saver. i can't use it. i can't touch it.
scott rexroat is now officially the leader of dto. if you want to
ask him questions about the zine, please direct all correspondence to ..
"what's your e-mail address?" i ask him.
"smrexro@odin.cmp.ilstu.edu" he answers.
he will help you with any questions you have regarding dto. i hope
you all realize this is for the good of _all_ of us.
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doomed to obscurity thirteen | | | | | | and all contents therein ..
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1 - editorial
by - jamesy
2 - doomed to obscurity thirteen and all contents therein ..
by - mogel
3 - cat story
by - oregano
4 - southborough reservoir
by - eerie
5 - you can't be too careful these days!
by - trilobyte
6 - divine this time
by - crank
7 - a rant
by - mogel
8 - jesus on the run
by - sweeney erect
9 - a jamesy article
by - jamesy
10 - the hangover
by - eerie
11 - wherefore art thou dummercon?
by - murmur (with mogel)
12 - untitled
by - girlie17
13 - love & hand grenades
by - puck
14 - bodily orifice - condiments; chapter 5004
by - murmur
15 - you've been had!
by - creed
16 - the chaos theory; wednesday, july 20
by - eerie
17 - encyclopedia mogel in: archie's stuck in the laundry chute!
by - jamesy
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+ cat story
+ submitted by - oregano
"i have a special relationship with your cat," tom said to kenny.
they were on the swings in penny park, a little fun on a long boring
summer's day.
kenny, who was almost perfectly out of synch with tom - his swing hit
the top of the back arc when tom's was all the way in front, and vice versa
- was suddenly silent.
tom milked the moment for all its silence, then pretended to change
the subject, "i hope griffey comes back soon, i bet he can still be the home
run leader after missing half the season."
now kenny was double fluxed, "you're crazy, he can hit the balls
good, but he's, uh .. no way." kenny stumbled over his words, like his
brain was overloaded: "what are you talking about? what relationship do
you have with bogey?" bogey was kenny's seven year old cat, the only pet
kenny had ever had, an almost persian cat, with a bit of a tabby mix, and
friendlier then any cat in the whole world, at least kenny thought.
everyone liked bogey, he was quick to make friends, always receptive to a
back rub that made him purr with delight.
tom answered, "i discovered something the other day, a power i have
over your cat that only works for me. me and bogey, i have like a magic
power over your cat." tom kept swinging at an even pace.
kenny asked, "what magic power?"
tom put down his feet and raising a cloud of dust stopping his swing,
he leaned forward. kenny kept swinging but saw that tom would not say till
they were both at a dead stop. so he stopped. tom said, "everytime i say
bogey's name and he can't hear me .."
kenny was getting antsy, he turned his swing to tom. "yes? what?"
tom continued. "everytime i do that, he gets stronger. and
everytime i say his name and he can hear me, he gets weaker. it's like i
can control his strength."
kenny laughed, but a bit nervously. "sure tom. whatever." and then
he took a step back to get some momentum for the swing.
"i'll prove it to you next time i go to your house, you'll see, it's
really weird." they then both went on swinging on a lazy summer's day.
---
the next day tom went over to kenny's house. after kenny's mom let
him inside, tom said: "bogey, bogey, come here bogey." bogey was on his
favorite feline resting place: on top of a comfortable chair, he jumped off
and went to tom, kenny sat on the floor next both of them. "you see how
much he jumped and ran over here? now watch. bogey, bogey, bogey, how's my
little bogey?" he rubbed the cat under the chin and kept saying bogey's
name. "bogey, bogey, cute little bogey, mr. friendly bogey." he rubbed the
cat's back, which bogey loved, bogey arched up and stretched and purred
quiet and sweetly. "now watch, go over to the other side of the room and
call bogey."
kenny went over by the oak door that kept bogey out of the kitchen.
he called out: "come here bogey, come here cuddle buns." behold, though
bogey came to kenny, he did so more slowly, or did he? it was hard to tell,
kenny wasn't sure, but the cat did come, maybe he was a little weaker. no,
he was definitely weaker, he didn't have as much energy, kenny could finally
tell (he told himself) that the cat had less spring to his step, bogey
wasn't quite so light on his feet as he was a second ago. tom was telling
the truth and taking strength from the cat.
tom said the name of the cat some more. "bogey, bogey", he said
quietly, but loud enough for the cat to hear.
kenny got scared. "stop it! just stop it!" but tom said it a few
more times. "mom!" kenny yelled so she could hear him no matter where in
the house she might be, "tom and i are going to play outside." she yelled
back her permission and kenny grabbed tom's arm and pulled him up while tom
was still calling out bogey's name. bogey laid down where he was and curled
to take a nap. kenny's eyes widened, "hurry, we have to make him strong
again." when they left the house, bogey got up and went back to the
comfortable chair to continue the nap that had been interrupted, no stronger
or weaker then usual.
"okay, bogey can't hear you here," kenny said, they were back in
penny park, standing next to the drinking fountain, "say his name and make
him strong again." kenny looked pleadingly at tom.
"alright", tom sighed. "bogey, bogey .. " he repeated the name a
few times then added, "you know strong cats can be hard to handle - bogey,
bogey, bogey - they get wild and mean - bogey, bogey, bogey - they can get
out of control - bogey, bogey, bogey - they can turn on their masters -
bogey, bogey, bogey - they get sharp claws and big fangs and rip apart
chairs and knock over lamps - bogey, bogey, bogey - they go for your throat,
and tear out your eyes and chew off your arms - bogey, bogey, bogey."
"that's enough, don't make him too strong, don't make him wild."
kenny was lifting his feet off the ground, almost marching in place. he
rocked from side to side.
tom started walking away, still yelling out the name, "bogey still
can't hear me, he's prolly twice as big by now." he kept saying "bogey"
over and over.
kenny chased him, "stop! stop! stop!" he tried to think of what
to tell his mother and he hoped the oak door of the kitchen could protect
her from a cat turned beast.
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+ southborough reservoir
+ submitted by - eerie
i find it excessively annoying that every once in a while, it breaks.
i know the pattern, though. i learned how to recognize it. i
learned how to avoid it. i learned what to do when it comes anyway.
i usually spend hours sleeping to make believe i'm away.
oh well, another weakness. tough shit.
i guess there's stuff in life i can't handle. this is one of those.
but now i can chill out. i'm far enough.
a half moon reflects on the surface of the water, as flat as flat
could be. neutral speed.
i hear the house's rear door opening, & just as quick, my senses
growl. not now. i do not want this. i am not healed yet.
"i am your new hero! i am invincible!"
there he goes again. ray. i hate it when he starts on _this_.
"come on, try to smash me! try to find my weak areas!"
"ray, come on .." says a voice from behind the house. i don't know
who that is. someone stupid enough to try bringing him back to reason.
"i dare you! the day you can find _any_ weak area, i will only let
it hurt _once_."
"ray, shut up!" said a voice from inside the house.
"hey, brad, why don't you try to bring me down? i'd love it if you
could."
parties always made me sick, but parties with ray were always heading
to mental diarrhea.
"whatever the situation is, i'm the guy who'll learn the rules & play
by them. i am the perfect representation of a _parasite_! except you need
me - i know you do! you need my sense of reality! you need my exceptional
insight!" (he underscores "insight".) "you need my some more of my acts of
gratuitous randomness!"
"god damn it ray, won't you shut up already?"
"yeah, ray, that's pretty lame." i recognize melinda's voice. i
think they used to be together.
"you need my feat, kids! you need my hold onto _my own_ destiny!"
"does he want to get into a fight or what?"
"i dunno. what the fuck's up with ray?"
"& you know why? 'cause your quest is futile & fruitless!"
"ray, shut up!"
"but wait, you also need to find my weak points. you need to prove
me i'm small & worthless. you need to find a way to _break me_!"
"fucking schizo."
"can you just get the fuck outta here? prick."
"go on, ray, we _love_ it when you do this."
"go ahead!"
"hey ray, wanna hear it? you're fuckin' small & worthless!"
"ray, god damn it, what the hell .."
they all shut up when i appear in the house's back yard. people are
near the wall, grouped, & ray is alone near the picnic table.
"what about you dave? don't you wanna front me?"
no. i only wanted to go home. don't talk to me.
"dave?"
"what the hell, ray, you want me to _front you_?"
"yeah. i need someone to front me & prove me i'm not invincible."
"ray, i hate how you can come up with such nonsense without even
being _drunk_."
"this ain't nonsense! i want to be beat up to death, damn it!"
"i don't want to beat you up to death. i am in the back yard only
because it's the only way from the reservoir to the street. i am going back
home now, if you excuse me."
"where's your desire of combat, dave? where's your pride in
strength?"
"you had to be weak to show off this way, ray."
i made a couple steps away.
"see how you run", he said.
"see how you fall, ray."
before i got to the road i heard them. they started smashing him,
spitting on him, insulting him. i heard him scream a mix of blasphematory
language & laughs. i didn't want to worry about it. i was gonna have to
walk three miles before getting home. the schemes of things out here are
just like the roads. they all go the same way. they're all flat dull.
they all lead you to hell.
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+ you can't be too careful these days!
+ submitted by - trilobyte
larry and greg were walking down an old gravel road, when larry
stopped and removed his robe.
greg turned and looked at larry.
"why'd you do that?" he asked.
"i was cold."
"you're naked."
"yeah? well i'd much rather be naked than be ugly like you. look at
that outfit. it's so .. then. my god, your shirt has a hood!"
greg positioned his fists at his hips and cocked his head.
"you are in no place to critique my wardrobe! you're naked!" greg
screamed.
"my outfit is 'now'."
greg and larry looked at each other uncomfortably for a few minutes
and began to walk again.
they didn't know quite where they were going. they had found this
road when they were looking at things and decided to walk down it. after
all, roads were made for walking. this particular road was very bland,
surrounded by desert. no humanity could be seen for miles.
"my arms hurt," larry whined. "we've been walking for 4 hours now."
they stopped and stood in the road. greg looked at larry's arms.
"take them off," greg replied.
"i can't."
"well, then, allow me."
greg turned to larry and pulled on larry's left arm. it didn't come
off. he pulled harder and harder until he heard a loud popping sound.
"ouch," larry said.
"give me your knife," greg told larry.
"it's in my robe."
greg looked around, but didn't see larry's robe.
"where's your robe?" greg asked.
"i don't know."
"damn."
greg began to tug at the skin of larry's shoulder with his teeth. he
chewed and tugged until some skin came off in his mouth. he pulled off the
rest of the skin, and then began tugging at the flesh and muscle. once he
was done with that, larry's arm came off with no problem.
"ouch, damn," larry said.
"what?"
"you tore my arm off."
"really? man! that would hurt!"
"doesn't matter, it hurt before you tore it off."
"good!"
larry and greg stood and looked at each other for a few minutes, and
then began to walk some more.
after an hour or so, the sky became dark.
"i'm cold," larry said.
"take off your robe."
"i already did."
"ok then, here, take mine."
"ok."
greg took off his robe and handed it to larry. larry put it on.
"i'm cold," larry said.
"take off my robe," greg suggested.
"you're not wearing it."
"shit. where is it?"
"i forgot."
"damn."
larry and greg stood and looked at each other for a few minutes, and
then began to walk some more.
"what do you think i am, a liberator of small asian countries?" asked
larry.
"shut up."
"no, you!"
"how you gonna make me?" asked greg, taunting larry.
"i have your first-born child."
"damn you." greg reached his left hand up and smacked larry's cheek.
"bitch. you just want to snatch my crops," larry retorted.
larry and greg sat down and thought things over.
"if you were a liberator of small asian countries, you would be a
hero among modern society," greg told larry.
"yes, my friend, i do find your statement quite logical and correct.
i am glad that we have had this opportunity to chat and work out our
differences, rather than just spontaneously dying."
larry smiled.
greg smiled.
they stood up and began walking back to the beginning of the road.
about 2 hours went by, when they saw a speck on the horizon. larry tried
to point at the speck, but realized that he no longer had an arm there. so,
he lifted up his right arm and alerted greg to the speck on the horizon.
"i think you're seeing things, fool. there can't be anyone else out
here," said greg.
"who knows, maybe they felt like taking a walk."
larry looked at greg, and realized that he could be correct. they
continued walking, and eventually realized that the speck was an old grey-
haired woman in a flowered dress.
greg looked at the lady as he walked, and noticed that she carried a
large white purse that was very large.
"damn, larry, her purse is fucking huge."
"yeah."
after a few minutes, they met up with the old woman. she looked them
over and then began to hop up and down on one leg.
larry and greg were rather curious as to why she was doing this.
"why are you hopping up and down, old woman?" greg asked the lady.
she didn't say anything. she stared blankly at the two men as she
hopped up and down. larry thought about the time that he tried hopping on
one leg while wearing moderately high heeled woman's shoes. it was rather
hard.
"weren't you on the price is right? mildred or marge or something?
won a ford escort?" larry said.
the lady turned around and walked away.
"what an interesting person," commented greg.
"not as interesting as your mother."
"bitch."
"hoe."
"snatch."
"i don't want to go out with you anymore, greg. you are a hypocrite,
you don't show your feelings, you flirt with my best friend, you don't show
your feelings, and you repeat yourself all the time," larry said.
greg looked at larry in amazement. he wanted to say "what?", to
question larry's actions. but greg knew that it would do no good. he felt
his eyes began to water and his face muscles began to tighten up. greg
began to cry - something he had never done in front of larry.
"do you think it's my fault that i don't show my feelings?" greg
asked larry. "do you think it's my fault? that's how i grew up. no one in
my family shows feelings. i feel uncomfortable doing it. every time i show
my feelings, something seriously bad happens to me. do you understand?"
"yes, i understand. i know that you can't help it and that you can't
change it. that's why i don't want to go out with you anymore. i can't go
out with someone who doesn't show their feelings, since that's what
constitutes a relationship for me. exchanges of feelings. since you are a
cold and insensitive person, i never felt like you cared about me, greg."
still crying, greg fell down on the cold, damp road. head in his
hands, he told larry that he really did care about him. larry knelt down on
the ground and began to weep also.
"i never knew that you cared about me, greg," said larry.
"well, now you do. are you happy? if i didn't care about you, i
would have broken up with you a long time ago," greg replied.
they embraced for what seemed like hours. all the while, larry
wasn't sure if he should remain with greg. at the same time, greg thought
that larry was only hugging him with one arm. he was correct.
the two of them stood up, and larry was the first to speak.
"i still don't want to go out with you anymore. if the only time
that you show your feelings is when you are threatened of losing me, it
shows that you take me for granted. i don't take you for granted. i put
effort into the relationship, and i expect you to also. this is not a
one-sided deal. i don't want to go out with you anymore, and that's final."
greg looked at larry deeply for a few minutes, and then pulled his
other lover out of his pants.
"see? this is my other lover. it is your best friend. i am going
to flirt with him while we are in front of you, just so i can make you
jealous."
"i don't care, bitch. get out of my fucking face," larry said, as he
turned and walked down the lonely desert road.
greg sat down and watched as his other lover followed larry down the
road to the horizon. the sun rose. greg was all alone.
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+ divine this time
+ submitted by - crank
"i'm going out. i'll be back, um, later."
"uh, sure."
she grabbed a tape and felt for her keys in her pocket. went out the
door, down the stairs and towards her car. the little grey plymouth turned
muddy yellow-orange in the sulfur glare of the streetlamps. looked around,
felt the shadows and inserted her key in the driver's side door. got in.
started the engine. hit the headlights. backed up, drove away to
somewhere.
on the main road, she uncased the cassette and shoved it in the
player. acoustic guitar and a man's voice. she drove past the few lamps
near her street and forward into darkness.
she didn't realize she was driving towards his house until she
arrived. pulled up, killed the engine and sat in silence and darkness.
funny, he looked out the window and in a few minutes appeared. he let
himself in the passenger side once she unlocked it for him. the oppressive
darkness on the outside of the car was more so with a light on inside.
"hi. where're we going?"
a silence ensued in her heart. "away," she responded.
he tried a few words towards her, a few grains of rice.
unresponsive. that's okay, he knows how she can be.
she doesn't look particularly angry, or sad. she looks more uncaring
than anything, actually. maybe not uncaring, per se. maybe she's just
bored. or concentrating. or maybe she's not hiding her sadness very well
tonight. i wish she'd say something.
he listened to the guitar and the street beneath them. he heard the
brightness of the few cars they passed. he heard her pain as much as he
allowed himself to, but it's always so loud.
after a few streets and a few turns, she made a left onto a dimly lit
residential road before a baseball field. three stop signs brought the car
to a rolling halt. she pulled it over to the left, slowly, and stopped
between two dark houses. turned off the engine and headlights but left the
radio. locked her door. unfastened her safety belt. leaned back in her
seat, closed her eyes and seemed to fall asleep. he figured she was
listening to the music. he wondered what she was going to say.
after two more songs, he stopped expecting and relaxed into his seat.
watched the street. felt twinges of boredom but suppressed them for her.
wondered if she knew anything he knew.
a few more melodies played. she reached across the parking brake and
took his hand. her fingers were cold. they usually are. he looked at her,
but her eyes were still shut. there was the wet trail of a tear on her
cheek. he expected nothing.
---
"why did you bring me here?" he said to her. he had long ago tired
of the music she adored, the overpowering blackness surrounding the car and
its inhabitants. "are you going to yell at me some more? guilt me? what
do you want?"
"um, it'd be nice if people would understand."
"understand you? long shot."
"not even to that great a distance. even if they'd just get what i
write about, even if a _few_ of them would understand what i do in every
respect and every aspect i originally intended to be viewed. it seems
sometimes that people are so _dense_. i've written tales so entwined with
metaphorical intensity, and not a single person sees past the fucking
exterior, sees past the 'boring little nothing story' to what i've written
into it underneath. i mean, come on. you're supposed to be one of my best
friends, and even you didn't get the full effect of the last few things i've
submitted. this whole magazine thing is a great idea, but a _waste of
time_! so few can see through it. sorry. guess i'm venting. it pisses me
off." she inhaled deeply through her nose.
"well, maybe when we have more readers .."
"more people to tell me how boring my work is and how they just don't
understand why it cuts off right at the climax. thanks, james. you're a
real fucking pal."
"why are you always like this? are you still mad at me?"
she tossed him a sidelong glance replete with undisguised disgust at
his shallow manner of ideation. "forget it. you're obviously the wrong
person to talk to about this."
---
started the car again, pulled away from the curb. flicked the
headlights on, illuminating an orange-striped cat. it scurried out of the
way and back into its shadows.
drove down the small hill, hung a right. a few streets later turned
left. ventured through a brightly-lit area and past two traffic lights.
neither spoke.
pulled up to his house, remained forward-facing. eyes wild with
bound anger. he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "i'm sorry," he
uttered in his voice. she showed no signs of acceptance. he had no idea
what to apologize for, and therefore could not truly be sorry. the car door
opened, shut. she drove off.
slowly, ten miles under the speed limit. no one was out. returned
to her house, secured the car and walked across the grass towards her
apartment. the streetlamps behind her cast her shadow onto the ground
before her. she strode through it and into the building.
"copy, copy, copy."
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+ a rant
+ submitted by - mogel
these red pants people make me sick. i bet you're STUPID! i bet
you're GAY! i bet you listen to alanis morisette! i bet you think bob
saget is funny!
what the hell is wrong with you? oh, you think you're just *so*
different, don't you?
well, listen up - you look silly. get lost.
& if i see you do the macarena one more time, i swear it'll be your
blood.
who do you think you are, a fireman?
pantsface.
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+ jesus on the run
+ submitted by - sweeney erect
"clock in, check mate check out and move on ..
to another venue .."
- murray head, "one night in bangkok"
since god was all powerful and had an infinite amount of time it only
stood to reason that he would create an infinite number of worlds. oddly
enough, despite god's own fabled perfection, none of these worlds ended up
being quite what he had in mind and thus they were all in need of saving.
now, the first time god sent his son to die for a swarm of mostly ungrateful
creations it was a really really big deal for all concerned. the holy
spirit made a huge pot of ramen noodles and there was feasting in heaven for
jesus before he shuffled off to his next world and his next crucifixion. by
the time he got to earth, which was the forty-ninth planet saved, he was
frankly rather fed up. earth was a smooth yet ho-hum job.
this brings us to jesus' one millionth planet saved, agonon. by now
he had things more or less down to a science -- he was able to piss the
right people off quickly enough to maximize efficiency. and efficiency was
increasingly becoming the watch word in the game of messiahing, for with god
creating new planets at a frantic rate, and the planets needing saving just
as quickly, jesus was held to rather a tight schedule. (his favourite
mission had been to a planet known as gidding, where he was literally
snatched from the womb and crucified. it really helped make up for some
lost time and he also didn't remember the pain.)
now then, back to agonon. agonon was an odd planet, in that jesus
couldn't figure out just what in the hell they had ever done wrong. the
people still lived in harmony with nature, taking only what they needed for
survival from the forest. people were polite to each other, and they seemed
to genuinely radiate love. they seemed on the whole unlikely to nail
anybody to anything.
so jesus grew up here, preaching his doctrines of love and friendship
that usually got him killed pretty quickly anywhere else. and the people
ate it up. they already lived by most of the dictates he spelled out, and
the ones they didn't already practice they genuinely tried to incorporate
into their lives. although there was no government and therefore no formal
leadership, jesus became an unofficial leader for society, a shining
example to follow.
understandably god the father was not terribly pleased. "jesus", he
said, "you have lived on this planet for forty years now and are nowhere
near being crucified for their sins. what is going wrong?"
"but father, this is your perfect planet. nothing is wrong here and
i can find no sin. please let me live here forever. it is so beautiful and
loving."
now god the father knew one thing that i haven't mentioned yet,
namely that jesus had met and become fond of a girl on agonon. she was a
pretty girl with brown hair and large yellow eyes and smooth skin and perky
breasts. jesus felt for her like he had never felt for any other creation.
"jesus, if you continue to have these feelings for that girl you will
displease me very much. now would you please just do something to get
crucified and get back up here? the holy spirit has some ramen noodles
ready."
"father, i have never let you down in the past. just please give me
some time to think things over and i'll join you in three days, give or take
a few, ok?"
"we will be waiting," said god and he went off to create other
worlds.
so jesus went off to wander by himself in a wooded area far from his
beloved agononians. suddenly behind him there was a rumble and a very
beautiful man appeared. jesus instantly knew this man for he was the devil.
"a beautiful race, aren't they jesus?"
"not that you would know beauty, get behind me enemy."
"jesus, i come as a friend", said satan, lightly resting his hand on
jesus' arm. "do not judge too quickly. for i was once as pure and as holy
as you."
"you are the prince of liars."
"i was once the son of god."
"LIAR! i am my father's only son."
satan had never before seen such insecurity and terror in the face of
his old adversary.
"but, jesus my brother, it is true. before you came to know
yourself, when you were still floating with the godshead as part of the
father, i was travelling worlds and redeeming races. i came to a world very
much like this one and our father made me leave it, made me cause the people
to crucify me."
"i don't believe you," said jesus. but in his heart he did a little.
he knew his father could be very demanding, very unreasonable. and he knew
there was a time when he was not aware of himself and that satan and he
shared some characteristics.
satan put his other arm around jesus and jesus did not draw away.
"my brother, it is true. and after they crucified me, then they turned to
sin alright. hedonists and adulterers and murderers .. then it was hell.
and the pretty girl i loved was the first saint to be martyred for me."
at this point a clear expression of pain and dread crossed jesus'
face. he lightly mouthed the syllable: "no."
"after that", continued the ancient adversary, "i turned against god.
that is why you were made aware, to take my place as god's faithful lackey.
the bitterness and hatred i've felt for god has been wrong, but so was what
he made me do. he had to know what was going to happen."
"i, umm, i need to be alone now," said jesus. he had no sooner
finished his sentence than he looked up and found he was alone. for the
next few hours he wandered the woods, meditating, thinking, but never quite
bringing himself to pray. he had always been aware of certain
insensitivities on the part of his father, but had never before actually
felt this profound mistrust and dread.
as night approached and it began to rain lightly, jesus knew what he
had to do. he walked amongst his friends and found the girl. he asked her
to go for a walk and while out in the rain and stars he began to touch her.
"but, jesus, she said, "you have taught us that carnal lust is
wrong, distasteful to god."
"yes my love, but this is much more than carnal lust. and any god
who finds what i feel distasteful is to me distasteful himself." and so
saying he kissed her and out there among the rain and under the stars in the
full view of all heaven, jesus and the girl sinned.
__________________________________________________________________________
(__________________________________________________________________________)
+ a jamesy article
+ submitted by - jamesy
hey, ladies and gents!
mogel asked me to write the editorial this month. he never said it
had to be named "editorial", however. nor did he mention that it had to be
at the beginning of the zine. Well, don't make an *ASS* out of *U* and *ME*
by assuming those things have to happen!!!!!
dto is on the cutting edge of post-structuralism, do0ds and
do0dettes. we're so hip we have editorials in the _middle_ of our issues.
dto is one year old. what does that mean? are we the oldest zine?
well, no. are we the most popular zine? that could be debated, too. then,
who cares, you ask?
i dunno.
happy one year anniversary, dto. maybe in twenty years we'll take
you out drinking.
there's still a lot of tits and ass on the television set. but i
think there's going to be some violence soon, so it's ok.
guns and tits - that's what i say!
in other news .. dto's most mysterious writer, the fake scorpion, has
gone away to boarding school. as mentioned earlier, his email address is
marzbanie@okie.ncssm.edu. he's lonely. mail him. send him chain letters.
talk about billy corgan.
this month, we've got a jam packed issue, as you've already
half-seen! although we're missing some big dto-stars (kaia, tao, styx), i'm
sure we'll see them next month, because they're dedicated writers who will
strive to make dto as good as it can be by gracing it with their presence!
as for this month, we've got two new writers - trilobyte and oregano!
trilobyte is a tall young lad from rockford who listens to music like aphex
twin. oregano is a veteran of the 'zine scene, although many of you may not
have experienced his works yet. he commonly was found in the 'zine
_propaganda_unlimited_. his pieces, i'm sure, will be great additions to
dto.
but all this talent brewing in dto already doesn't mean we don't need
more writers! submit now! make your friends submit! send us those wacky
videos of gramps getting it in the balls! it may win you ten thousand
dollars!
__________________________________________________________________________
(__________________________________________________________________________)
+ the hangover
+ submitted by - eerie
she suffers a hangover
every morning
yet she gets drunk every night
every possible
time, actually
so she could
have the very clear
feeling of
her life,
dangling upon a rash stick
aren't you a writer? she asked
i said yes & she said:
then, why don't you write, here, for me?
i mean
you could
she was drunk & i was stoned
i never drink
i never get sick
i just smother my adjunctions by smoking weed
though,
i know about tomorrow's side-effects
i know it all, thanks
but this is today
& today is no time to think of tomorrow's hangovers
so i laughed & said, yes, girl,
i could write
but not now
not now 'cause you're here, & anyway
now is no time to
splatter or
spread me, you,
or anyone else
on a god damned
piece of paper
the morning after
she suffered the
same hangover she always suffers
i got caught in the usual fit of depression
& while she was in the bathroom, hoping the headache would drown
i sat on her bed
& wrote bad poetry
__________________________________________________________________________
(__________________________________________________________________________)
+ wherefore art thou dummercon?
+ submitted by - murmur (with needed additions by mogel)
at least once a week (i would hope) and most likely daily, you poop.
it's true. it happens a lot. most of those poops will take place at home,
in a bathroom, with a toilet, all of which have been the site for perhaps
hundreds or even thousands of semblantly similar poops before.
not all poops, however, take place at home; you've pooped at
grandma's, you've pooped at that one gas station, you've pooped your pants
when you were six, and let's not even speak of diapers. suffice to say,
you've done a lot of pooping, haven't you? you sure have!
where have you pooped this week? anywhere unusual? anywhere new? a
different restaurant? perhaps you went to a different gas station, just to
poop? what about interstate rest areas? remember, if there's one on each
side of the highway, they count as separate ones!
perhaps as telling as anything else in your life is the number of
exotic places where you've pooped. have you pooped at yellowstone national
park? have you pooped anywhere near the eiffel tower? these are the
classic poops you will remember for years and years. perhaps you've
experienced one recently.
i have. i experienced a very satisfying poop very recently while i
was in the keystone state. that's pennsylvania. philadelphia, even, once
the capital of these united states, but now merely the fifth largest city in
the country, behind new york, los angeles, chicago, and houston. yes,
houston, you piece of trash, HOUSTON. so there i was in philadelphia,
experiencing a new toilet, a new feel...
but why was i in the city of brotherly love? after all, i live in
cornville, er, the midwest, illinois, to be exact. what compelled me to
visit this far-off line that spawned not only boyz ii men, but even the
fresh prince? and whose toilet was this, anyway?
well, germs, it was the toilet found in none other than the good old
dto love shack, on the not-so-sunshiny-but-still-full-of-gleey streets of
philly, pa. the love shack, roosting roost of none other than mogel, eerie,
and the inflabbable morpheus, when he isn't behind his bench. it was here
that i had my satisfying poop - oh, what a poop!
of course, philly is still a long way to go just to see fellow
telecom legends for no particular reason, well, maybe, sort of. why did we
four (tao, jamesy, vanir, and murmur) board a plane that would take us to
CLEVELAND en route to BALTIMORE en route to PHILADELPHIA, specifically?
certainly not just to poop at the dto love shack.
dummercon, ladies and gentlemen, dummercon, gentiles too, dummercon.
this was dummercon ii, dummercon the revenge, dummercon the first and
hopefully the last that mogel will schedule on the same day that HURRICANE
BERTHA is coming to town.
an entourage of 29 people descended at FDR park in philadelphia for
this raucous event; certainly our numbers would have been swelled by the
y0lk crew, had mogel not been a dumbface. but we had 29 people, 29 of us,
in FDR park - hackers, 'zine writers, ska chicks, and you name it.
"what the hell is dummercon?" you might ask. silly, contorted homo
erectus!
dummercon is the annual convention of e-'zine writers that has now
been held twice at philadelphia's mystical FDR park, picnic area 7.
multiple states & nationalities were represented from delaware,
pennsylvania, indiana, illinois, new jersey, new york, quebec at this oh
joyous of joys. here's a list of what i believe were all the guests of the
event, in ALPHABETICAL ORDER:
belial, black francis, cerkit, crank, dead cheese, devious, edicius,
eerie, ilsundal, jamesy, kaia, kojak, l.a. woman, metalchic, mindcrime,
mogel, murmur, mutata, nykia, oodles, pip the angry youth, the professor,
rattle, skooter, styx, tao, tdk, tut, and vanir.
it was a festive post-hurricane day, to say the least, involving
ANNIHILATION OF COMPUTER HARDWARE and A DIGITAL CAMERA and WACKY NOODLE
FIGHTS (damn tao didn't get the hang of it and was KNEEING me, and his knees
are like 20 pounds a pop. ouch.) the bag of dumb stuff reached heights of
dumbness, as it was expected to do, with some of the more exciting prizes
being a potato gun and a collection of third-rate gospel cds.
geek kickball was just that, as, in true geek fashion, it ended
relatively shortly after it began, with an 11-0 win for geek team one, which
i don't think ever chose a name, nor did geek team two.
"I LIKE CYBERSEX" stickers were rampant, compliments of the ineffable
edicius, i think. a young girl at the park was also to be seen leaving
later with jonas propaganda! and no, this young girl was *not* oodles.
contrary to published reports, eerie is NOT noel gallagher, he merely
looks and sounds so sweet.
the destruction of the day was of the 14" monitor supplied by neko
and painstakingly brought through customs, mostly by vanir. dead cheese,
kojak, and murmur accounted for an anti-climax of a demolition by whipping
the poor beast into multiple tress, scaring woodland creatures.
unbeknownst to most, black francis is actually in the band
goldfinger.
metalchic is NOT made of metal. but she's really cute!!!
the annual rape of tut with network cable was vaguely unsuccessful
this year, although nobody is quite sure why.
mogel, the cut-up that he is, wore the famous gorilla slippers again,
even during a rousing round of geek kickball. the gorillas are believed to
be retired at this point because they got the crap beat out of them.
vanir somehow wound up in every picture.
rattle's ass made a cameo appearance; luckily, most everyone missed
it, because they were all looking at metalchic, because she's so damn cute!
but it wasn't the end!@!@ a few days later, mogel, black francis,
skooter, nykia, tdk, eerie and murmur were attending the girls against
boys/you am i/ruby/ concert at the trocadero, in the center of philadelphia.
although this has little to do with the actual happenings of dummercon ii,
girls against boys really rocked a llama's ass with a belt!
so as you can see - beyond the chaos, a good time was had by all at
this years dummercon, and it's expect that NEXT year's event will actually
be planned in great detail. imagine that! all that poop - organized,
fresh, and exciting! be there next year or be confined, AGAIN, to the same
old toilet you've had day in and day out, Student.
__________________________________________________________________________
(__________________________________________________________________________)
+ untitled
+ submitted by - girlie17
A GIFT
A ROSE
A SYMBOL
A KISS
A TASTE
A GIFT
A LOVE
A SYMBOL
A FEELING
THE CHANGE
THE FEAR
THE HATE
THE DEATH
THE END
THE MEMORY
__________________________________________________________________________
(__________________________________________________________________________)
+ love & hand grenades
+ submitted by - puck
concorde brands,
a sunmark inc. co.
8155 new hampshire
st. louis, mo 63123
oh dearest squishy ones,
hi. i'm steve. i've been enjoying your tasty laffy taffy candy for
many years now. i just can't get enough of that tangy squishy fruity chewy
taste. mmm-mmm! my mouth waters just thinking about that luscious
squooshable flarblotty flavor.
one of my favorite things about your laffy taffy (besides the
scrumdiddlyumptious taste!) is the great selection of jokes you put on your
wrappers. they're entertaining, and very helpful! let me tell you about a
time where your wrappers helped me a whole bunch. i had been collecting
laffy taffy wrappers for five years, when i was cast in a high school play
called "brighton beach memoirs". maybe you've heard of it. maybe you
haven't. whatever the case, on with the story! well, i was cast as the
lead role, and had a whole buttload of lines to memorize! yowee! zoiks!
after working on them for a couple months between laffy taffy treat breaks,
i had them down pretty well. by the time the play opened, i had them down
pat, babycakes!
well .. let me tell you .. when the curtain went up, and those lights
turned on, my brain did a tiny flip flop and i forgot every single line in
the entire play! but a-ha! all was not lost! thinking fast, i fished in
my large pockets for my laffy taffy wrapper collection. i then turned
towards the audience, and spent two entire hours reading them your silly
jokes. they were in tears! the play was saved! some of the other actors
even came out to help me with the punch lines.
thanks for helping me out, laffy ones. give yourselves a big squishy
hug. you deserve it.
but that's not the reason i wrote. i usually get every single joke
on your wrappers, but yesterday, while reading the joke sent in by kendra n.
from paw paw illinois, i nearly dropped my sugar-sweetened lemonade. i just
don't get it. i sent in a copy of the wrapper and circled the joke in
question .. but i'll type it out for you:
q: why did the woman get her hair fixed?
a: because she had split ends.
hmmm. i hope kendra keeps her day job, because she just isn't funny
at all. of course the lady will get her hair fixed up if she has split
ends. what's funny about that? that's just stupid. if you'd like me to, i
could write a pamphlet about the rules of humor that you can send out to
your potential joke writers. that would eliminate incidents like this.
anyway, i am requesting something of you guys. when i buy a laffy
taffy, not only am i paying for the enjoyment that is inherent in eating it,
but i am also paying for a little giggle. when i paid for this particular
candy snack, i didn't even smile. i just sighed, looked down, and frowned
at a reputation lost. i expect to be reimbursed. i would like you to send
me a large box filled with laffy taffy candies.
i don't want to lose faith in this company that has so consistently
turned out good comic material. i figure that by sending me and my
roommates a box of laffy taffy candies, we will have a large sampling of
your candies and jokes to go over. please keep in mind that i have counted
on your candies in the past, and have been a very avid supporter of the
laffy taffy cause. i wouldn't want this partnership and friendship to end
so suddenly on such a solemn note.
please reply as swiftly and promptly as possible. thank you for your
time.
sincerely,
steven gadlin
---
jon althoff
marketing director
concorde brands
8155 new hampshire
st. louis, mo 63123-2699
dear jon,
hey there, jon-boy! i was super pleased to receive a letter from you
this afternoon. i had written you candy-dudes in early october of 1995
regarding a complaint i had about a bum joke in one of my laffy taffy
wrappers. you guys sure soothed the burning coals of my soul with your
supportive response.
i hate to be a bugger again, but i just had to give you a shout ..
let me quote a couple of lines from your letter:
"i hope the enclosed wrappers provide enough jokes for you
and your roommates to enjoy!"
"we have enclosed a coupon for your use and hope that you
will continue to enjoy our products."
"neat," i thought, as a read those two lines. "free stuff!" i then
greedily shook the envelope over my cupped hand, ready to cash in on the
booty. have i filled you with suspense? are you shaking at the edge of
your seat, just wondering what happened next? i was! but the gods weren't
smiling upon me this afternoon - the envelope was empty!
now i'm sure it was just a clerical mistake, probably made by a new
person. you know, that smelly one in marketing who probably eats chalk.
don't worry, i'm not asking you to fire him .. i know his uncle is probably
your boss or something and that would look terrible on your record. i'm
just asking you to walk up to him, look him in the eye, and say "smedrick,
ya really alienated steven gadlin from skokie, illinois this afternoon, and
i think it s time to make up for that mistake." i want those free wrappers!
i want that coupon!
no worries, mr. althoff. i still have complete faith in your
company. i know that all companies have their share of glue-sniffing
employees who do nothing but leech from the petty cash and suck the
life-blood out of their employers. i'm one of them. i'm writing a letter
to you on company time. but gosh darnit, i'm an american. and i want my
free wrappers.
this whole incident reminds me of something my little cousin todd
said to me, once. i won't relate that to you, though. it was a private
moment.
thanks for your time, mr. althoff.
i look forward, once again, to a speedy reply. i'm enclosing a pee
wee herman trading card. honest i am.
love and hand grenades,
steven gadlin
__________________________________________________________________________
(__________________________________________________________________________)
+ bodily orifice - condiments; chapter 5004
+ submitted by - murmur
these people they is like i am a law breaker! and i say did you kill
a man and they look at me goof and say no sicko but i am a law breaker! i
have cut the tag from my mattress! they giggle teehee@! and think they real
funny. i do not think they funny. i am a law breaker too though and i am
funny cause no do i cut the tag from my mattress but instead when the people
they is like i am a law breaker! and give me the mattress story i is cut off
heads. yes off with their heads. now teehee@! i am law breaker. i sure do
hope the fuzzies do not catch me for choppin off the dumb heads! i do not
think they will, i bury the bodies in secluded woodland regions and wear
lots of gloves and the heads well i feed them to ralph he is my boa he's
kind of big now.
moral: breakin' the law, breakin' the law...
__________________________________________________________________________
(__________________________________________________________________________)
+ you've been had!
+ submitted by - creed
hmm. i just feel like writing again. i feel abstract. this t-file
is just going to be some random thoughts of mine, strewn across a page. so
if you don't like it, i don't care. you know the drill.
---
literal translation:
this t-file is going to be boring and hard to read.
---
it's happening again .. just like every night. i sit in front of an
empty computer screen, thinking empty thoughts, sorting out the empty
contents of an empty life. i feel this blankness, just like we all do,
every night; maybe even every moment of every night .. or maybe even every
day. and yet it's a feeling that's always very new to me; as if i'm
discovering the meaninglessness of life with every breath. the sadness
overcomes and astounds me like an orgasm.
---
silly e-zine translation:
THE GELATIN OF SADNESS SPLATTERS OVER ME LIKE RAW MEAT. I HAVE BEEN
ENLIGHTENED BY THE FLUIDS OF MY OVERSTUFFED CRANIUM. FNORD!
---
feh. i refuse to believe that there's anyone in this universe whom i
can really get along with. i refuse to believe that there's anyone whom i
can understand. or anyone who can understand me. i have no idea how this
whom/who thing works. why am i obliged by this world to associate with
people that think they're like me? why am i obliged to need other human
company? duke nukem is enough of a friend to me!
---
poetic e-zine translation:
alone
in a dark, dark world.
no one hears me cry!
no one hears me scream!
why me?
why?!
...
a shimmer of light!
enlightenment!
death!
darkness!
eternal sleep!
death!!!
huh?
---
i have this horrible, lingering fear that this will be read the wrong
way. i know i'm coming through as a misunderstood, poetic wannabe teenage
alternageek who's just looking for attention. but i'm not this. i swear
i'm not. well, i can't swear that much. i hope i'm not. but somehow i
know i am. i'm either incapable of putting my thoughts into words or
incapable of understanding the thoughts themselves. all i know about what
i'm thinking is that it's not what you're thinking i'm thinking. and it's
impossible for me to relay that message without sounding like the idiot i
am. sorry.
---
no translation available.
---
who knows. i'm not supposed to care what you think. your hollow
thoughts don't affect me! i am independent! i am one! so. nyah.
i still ask myself the same question at this point of writing a text
file: why are you reading this? is it moving? is it entertaining? do you
enjoy trying to figure out things about my life that i can't even
understand? the fact that any zine as prestigious as dto (haha) would want
me writing for them. but, you're still reading. i think. i don't know
whether to thank you or hate you. there's no answer. there's never an
answer in my life. and there are no unanswerable questions. the only
problems that go unanswered are not real problems.
that's it. the questions that you cannot answer are questions that
you should not ask. they aren't even questions.
it's a dark, strange world we live in.
---
literal translation:
you've been had! you read this text file and you're back where you
started! you moron! haven't you learned by now that you shouldn't be
reading this crap?!
__________________________________________________________________________
(__________________________________________________________________________)
+ the chaos theory; wednesday, july 20
+ submitted by - eerie
the only cold that night was between me & cynthia - but elsewhere,
more than ever, it was hot & i had to sleep over the bedsheets.
i tried to explain to her what was the actual truth: annie came here
& asked to take a shower, & is it my fault if she forgot her panties. it
didn't seem to convince her too much, probably because such an event never
happened to her - & an event *has* to happen to her at some point of her
life for her to categorize it as realistic. i thought about explaining the
not-too-secretive nature of my friend, but i think that kind of story would
raise more questions than answers in her head. i should have pretended as
if i had no idea & that it was probably her own underwear. but it's the
kind of thing you don't think about, when it happens.
though, cynthia is more & more filled with doubt about me. if only
she had a valid reason for it ..
i woke up pretty late again - around noon. she was gone working
again - & here i was, with nothing to do. i had only read one full chapter
of irving's book - my motivation to read on wasn't great. i finished a box
of cereal that was on the kitchen counter as a breakfast. i hate cereal,
but there was nothing else. & then i thought of my future disease, again.
i had to accomplish some sort of work before schizophrenia reached
me. that's why i started this novel. & i hope to finish it. this way,
i'll have something done. i don't want to become a simple person, unknown
from the rest of the world, & to top it all, schizophrenic. no, i want to
be something else. a legend, a myth, a crazy demigod. to amplify the
mythological work & also to turn into a leech & suck whatever they'll have
to give me, the martyr, to sweeten my pain.
nice plan.
i drank a full glass of fruit punch. that's all there was left to
drink, apart from tap water.
there was no message from cynthia on the table this time. did i have
to write one myself? it was needed, i thought. so i took the notepad & a
pen, & i wrote up a few words.
"if being mad at me brings
you such pleasure, then
that's cool with me,
it's your problem.
personally i think this whole
argument is ridiculous, because you know
as well as i do that i am right.
i don't want to sleep another
night in such an atmosphere.
i'll be back tomorrow, & i hope
you calm down till then."
i smiled at that nice message i wrote, telling myself that it was all
or nothing; either she lightens up, or she dumps me forever. then i left
the apartment, heading for annie's.
as always, the door wasn't locked & i could enter as i liked, to
discover her in the bathroom, crushed under a running shower, wearing her
blue bugs bunny t-shirt, wet to the bone, legs opened, showing a touch of
paradise to whomever might be lingering into it.
"uh .. am i disturbing you?"
"no, i just finished my daily masturbation."
"what's the t-shirt for?"
"phantasm."
it was abnormally hot & wet in the apartment. the fan was gone. so,
i figured, she actually destroyed it in her fight with a probably imaginary
enemy. the window, widely opened to relieve from its absence, didn't really
help, & my clothes were sticking to my skin.
"i forgot my panties at your place yesterday, i think."
i stared at her with a vaguely depressed look.
"i know. i guess i should have brought them back."
"bah. who cares, i have plenty of those. i don't really wear
panties. that's probably the reason why i forgot to put them back.
whatever."
she had a kid-like laugh.
"cynthia & me had a fight because of it."
"ah."
she didn't seem to give a flying fuck, & i couldn't really help but
start laughing as well to ridicule the situation.
"it is awfully hot."
"i know. it was a pain to try to sleep without the fan."
"hmm .."
she removed her t-shirt & threw it in the bath. i sat on her bed.
near bliss. she was beautiful, magnificent even. her body inspired in
me incredible adventures, & i wouldn't even feel guilty of admiring her.
"can i sleep over tonight?"
"oh. no problem, dear. what is it today? the poor girl is angsty
about underwear?"
"pretty much."
"i'm sorry."
"bah. not a big deal. the worse that can happen is that she never
wants to see my face again."
"i never saw her. how is she? is she pretty?"
"yeah. she has pretty eyes & a really nice ass."
"you love her?"
"go figure."
then came a silence of anxiety. the kind of silence that follows the
truths you don't really want to deal with, because you're not sure if that's
what they actually are - truths.
"by the way, i'm writing a novel."
"oh really? about what?"
"me."
"oh. am i in it?" she smiled.
"you, cynthia, everyone. it's about what happens in my life now."
"i'd like to read it."
"hm. next time you come over, maybe."
it was about one. the day was soft, tender. annie got up, passed
her sweet hand in my hair, & got dressed.
we then spent the day walking in the city. as we were on eight
avenue, she pointed at a building on an adjacent street.
"i think my aggressor lives here. when i'm being stalked,
it's
always in this particular area. well, it *was* .. now i'm never really safe
anywhere i go. it's just like they all decided to make my life a living
hell."
i nodded. at six she invited me out at a restaurant near her place.
i asked her how she could have so much money without working - she told me
it was a long story, so i didn't ask more.
after spending the evening in an obscure but calm bar that played the
beatles' red album, we came back at her apartment & went to bed. she smiled
at me & closed her eyes. i was lying on my back, unable to sleep because of
the heat. & in addition to that - her, annie, so beautiful. i wanted her
so much, & she was naked next to me. it was worse than any possible
torture. images were racing through my mind - annie, cynthia, melanie, & me
in the middle, waiting for my first crisis. funny, i thought, the most
ironic in all this is that the fact that i'm so sure i'm schizo is pretty
much schizophrenia. smiling at this thought, i then felt a hand set on my
thigh, caress it a little, then finding its way to the pubic area. i held
my breath.
slowly, her fingers travelled through the length of my sex to give it
a hard-on, which wasn't a very difficult task. the movement was done
without any hurry, quietly. my open eyes were still staring at the ceiling,
my mouth was as an aperture, & i was grabbing the bedsheets with both my
hands. then i heard her moan. i watched her face. she wore an ecstatic
expression, her eyes were closed & her mouth was gaping, opened enough to
let go a few weak moans. the window was letting the outside lamp-post's
light in. i rested my head on hers, & she replied by kissing me, while my
hand slipped to the bottom of her back. she got over me, on her knees, & i
kissed the space between her breasts. she pulled me in there - in her abyss
of warm, wet madness.
__________________________________________________________________________
(__________________________________________________________________________)
+ encyclopedia mogel in: archie's stuck in the laundry chute
+ submitted by - jamesy
the sun smiled upon philadelphia on that clear, brisk friday morning.
barney, the purple dinosaur who brings happiness and well-being into the
world, was nowhere to be seen, but his thoughts and emotions still spread
like warm syrup through the minds and hearts of his followers. even the
non-believers of the barney cause seemed cheerful that day. that is, except
for one, poor, heartsick child named phil, but you can call him murmur.
murmur tore through the streets, darting in front of and occasionally
leaping over honking cars and angry bicyclists at each turn. out of breath,
he reached his destination and pounded on the garage door. "mogel!" he
cried out. "mogel! i need your help!"
the garage he stood outside of was just large enough to accommodate a
medium-sized car, although everyone on the block knew no car would dare
enter the lair of mogel. a wooden sign was nailed to the top of the garage:
---
encyclopedia mogel, detective
advice - 5c detective work - 50c
murder cases - 75c hacker crackdowns - 2.50
we take visa, mastercard, american express, and zine submissions
---
"mogel! c'mon! it's ten thirty! you gotta be up!" murmur yelled
out.
"what's the password?" an eerie voice from inside the garage
whispered out.
"rutabaga!" murmur whispered.
slowly, the garage door rolled up to reveal the inner workings of the
detective agency. kaia, mogel's faithful assistant, was chasing a frog
around the back of the garage. eerie, one of mogel's friends, was sleeping
in the corner, using a small box labelled 'toxic' as a pillow. cerkit, a
neighborhood chum of mogel's, lay pinned down to a dissection board.
"sorry murmur, kaia is working on her science fair project and i'm
helping her. i don't have much time to work today," mogel said as he pushed
his glasses back onto the top of his nose.
"but mogel! you gotta help! archie is missing!"
"someone stole archie?!" kaia said.
"who stole archie?!@#" mogel asked.
"what happened to archie?!@?!#" cerkit whined.
this is where the narrator explains to the audience reading this
story who archie is. archie is murmur's really stupid snuggable dog.
everyone loves archie, even mogel's grumpy old dentist, joe. archie would
be more popular than barney if murmur had a good agent. he can do tricks.
he tries to open doors using the doorknob. after he is bathed, he slides
down halls and slams into walls. no one can resist the temptation to watch
this adorable dog maim himself time and time again, not even joe.
"archie is missing?!@!?#@" eerie asked, raising his head off the
small box labelled 'toxic.'
"yes, he's missing! i don't know who stole archie! that's why i
need your help, mogel!" murmur bellowed out, his distress nearly bringing
him to tears.
"we gotta help him, mogel!" eerie said, nearly in tears himself.
"all right. kaia, i guess your science fair project will have to
wait; this is in the name of our canine friend!" mogel said.
"ok, mogel. i'll just go to "linens and things" and choose a nice
shade of fuchsia for the lining of the crib we'll get our baby when we have
a baby and we're happily married someday and i'm a chemist and you're a
writer and our lives will be one!" kaia said and smiled.
"kaia! i told you no cutesy talk around the guys!" mogel whined and
blushed.
"hahaha!" they all laughed.
---
[ scene: murmur's swinging pad. a psychedelic incandescent light
with a rotating filter changes the color of the room from green, to
red, to blue, to yellow, and then to green again, and so on. on
murmur's west wall, aluminum foil keeps the aliens from homing in
on his brainwaves. in the distance, the red hot chili peppers can
be heard droning about fucking you and your whole family, too.
green bay packers paraphernalia is draped upon the north wall.
unmarked, black helicopters zoom right outside his window searching
for illegal immigrants. all in all, a pretty average room.
enter mogel, murmur, kaia, and eerie. mogel surveys his
surroundings, removes a little pad of notepaper from his pocket,
scribbles down a few notes in FUCHSIA crayon, and returns it to his
pants pocket. murmur sits down on the bed, drops his head into his
hands, and starts crying loudly. eerie, while no one is looking,
scratches himself. kaia braids her hair; unbraids it; braids it
again. ]
murmur: he's gone forever! i'll never find him now! all my dreams, all my
love, gone! forever!
mogel: now, now, murmur, we'll find your little pup!
kaia: yeah! you tell 'em!
murmur: but how?#@!#!@?!
mogel: first we need to scope out the scene of the crime. for instance,
is that your black trenchcoat lying there next to you on the bed?
murmur: no! it's not! and it has archie's hair all over it!
kaia: this might be a clue!
mogel: possibly! and is that your red box lying over there, next to the
phone?
murmur: no! it's not!
kaia: that might be a clue, too!
mogel: maybe! now what about that packers sweatband lying on the table
over there! if my estimate is correct, the germinator is the
culprit here! and judging by the dust collected on the sweatband,
he's about six miles east from here now! let's go!@#!#@!!@#
murmur: uh, mogel, that's my packers sweatband.
mogel: oh. that changes everything. hrm. well, how about those 500 or
so pages of rice issues lying all over the floor, with blood etched
into them, "we have your mangy mutt! -bf" are those yours, murmur?
murmur: no!
kaia: i think we may have a lead!
mogel: we might! now let's think about this, pals. whatever heinous
monster did this to murmur's poor canine must have been a hacker,
because they use a red box. you know what that means!
kaia: that means you get paid 2.50 for this job!
mogel: hell yea#@!!#@
murmur: i'm gonna have to write you a check, mogel.
mogel: aww, murmur, you know your credit is good with me! anyway, so the
dog snatcher ..
eerie: hehe. he said snatch.
mogel: shut up. the dog thief was a hacker. what hacker(s) would have
anything against murmur?
murmur: well, don't forget about the recent "r" world escapades.
all: hahaha!
mogel: oh yeah! hahaha! i'd forgotten about those. so who could it be?
eerie: neko?
mogel: nah, neko is just an amateur. just because someone is busted
doesn't mean they're a hacker.
eerie: guido sanchez?
mogel: nah. he's in jail.
eerie: james hetfield? of milk and tea?
mogel: haha. no. he couldn't hack his way out of a paper bag.
eerie: black francis & the rice militia?
mogel: hmm. it could be. let's think. do you think all the copies of
rice spread out on the floor saying, "we have your mangy mutt! -bf"
might be a lead?
kaia: yeah!
mogel: ok, we'll go give black francis a little visit. and remember,
guys, we want information from this guy. no straightedge jokes!
all: hahahahaha!
---
so on our stalwart heroes trekked
slowly creeping towards bf's
limitless dangers every turn
only mogel's wit to protect
stopping shortly, eerie's thirst had to be satiated
poster of celene dion in a window, he must have
haggled down to six-fifty, eerie got a deal indeed
saving him enough money for a tastykake or two
kaia, picking at scabs,
offered mogel ramen.
mogel declined, saying
"no way jose i got
things to do."
and with this they finally reached bf's love shack
mogel quickly readied the soup and spoon
murmur, angsty and depressed, hastened the attack
but no one was ready. it was too soon.
---
murmur slammed all of his weight into the door, cracking the hinges
off and sending both the door and himself plummeting to the floor. after
the tweetie birds circling his head all died, murmur got up, stomped towards
black francis and pointed at him.
"WHERE - IS - MY - DOG - ASSFACE?" murmur screamed.
"quite an entrance we make, do we not?" black francis retorted, not
even bothering to look up.
"hello, justin," mogel said, entering the apartment.
black francis slammed the paper down on the coffee table, staring up
at mogel. very few dare to speak my real name in public and survive, he
thought to himself. let's teach this punk a lesson.
"you. what do you want?" black francis demanded.
"got plenty of questions. just need a few answers," mogel replied.
"you won't get answers here," black francis said, turning around and
looking out through the slits of the venetian blinds behind him.
"murmur's dog is missing. we think you took it, bf. we found pages
and pages of rice lying on his floor with blood signing each page. kaia
tested it, and the DNA sequence in the blood matches yours. we also found
your red box in there, the one i made you last year. and, finally, you left
your trenchcoat in murmur's room, covered in archie's hair. now are you
going to fess up or are we going to have to open a can of whoop-ass?" mogel
threatened.
"i didn't do it," black francis insisted. "archie was already gone
when i got there."
"someone beat you to it? huh? why should we believe you?" mogel
asked.
"yeah, why?" kaia questioned.
"because i _always_ take credit for my anarchy," black francis
responded.
"oh yeah. hrm. then who could i be?" mogel wondered out loud.
murmur broke into an even more hysterical fit of sobbing.
"maybe this will help. i found a box of jujyfruits on murmur's bed
when i got there. although i didn't eat them because they had gelatin in
them, of course, i did make sure to cram them up his goat's anus," black
francis said.
"it could be a lead!" kaia burst out.
"it may be! back to the scene of the crime!" mogel yelled.
"yeah, get out of here before i kick you out!" black francis said.
"oh yeah, and frannie? here! have a beer!" mogel said, as he
tossed black francis an o'douls.
"hahahaha!" they all laughed.
---
[ scene: murmur's swinging pad. red stains cover the aluminum foil
on the northern wall, the green bay packers PARAPHERNALIA on the
west wall, and the rotating filter on the incandescent light. a
severed head of a dog lies next to the black trenchcoat on murmur's
bed.
enter mogel, murmur, kaia, and eerie. they all gasp in horror at
the grotesque sight. mogel stops for a moment and studies the
scene. kaia bites her fingernails. eerie makes sure no one is
watching and scratches himself. murmur picks up the severed head,
whimpering, shocked. as he stares at the head, his head starts
twitching violently towards his left shoulder. ]
murmur: archie!!!!! what horrible sick bastard did this to you, archie?????
eerie: he's not going to answer, you know.
murmur: archie!!!! archie ..
mogel: [ scans the room one more time, then looks at the severed head. ]
wait a second! that's not a severed head! that's a mr. potato
head dressed up to look like the severed head of a dog!
murmur: [ stops twitching, looks again ] you're right! this isn't archie!
mogel: and all those blood stains on the walls aren't blood stains at all!
they're ketchup!
kaia: yeah!
murmur: the only _good_ condiment!
mogel: oh. oops. i'm sorry, it's not ketchup. it's salsa.
murmur: grr!
mogel: someone is trying to fool us, guys, but we're smarter than them.
kaia: yeah!
mogel: we better look around this place once more for any clues we might
have missed.
kaia: yeah!
[ they look around. kaia looks in her hair, but finds nothing except
a few random flakes. eerie looks in his pockets, and finds fifteen
cents and a ball of lint. murmur sits and cries. mogel, with an
enlightened look on his face, speaks out. ]
mogel: i know what happened to archie!!!!
all: what happened to archie?!#@?#@!?#@!?#@!
mogel: well, earlier this morning murmur's maids did a lot of laundry.
it's obvious, because according to the smell of the pile of clothes
in the corner that they're clean. the only thing not-clean in this
room is murmur's bed sheets, which are stained with some slimy
white substance and have dog hair all over them. so sometime this
morning between when archie was in murmur's bed and when murmur's
maids did clothes, archie disappeared.
kaia: yeah!
mogel: during this time, black francis came over here, attempting to
kidnap the poor, innocent pup. he came into the room, grabbed
archie, and hid in the closet. but apparently, archie was too
quick for him, broke free, and hopped into a pile of dirty clothes.
murmur's maids grabbed the pile of dirty clothes, tossed them down
the laundry chute, and went downstairs to wash them. however,
archie was too big to fit down the laundry chute, so i bet he's
stuck there right now!
kaia: yeah!
murmur: amazing! but how did you figure all that out?
mogel: it's simple! i can hear archie barking now!
archie: bark bark!
all: hahaha!
murmur: but then who made this big mess in my room?
mogel: that's easy too! no one did! this whole mess is simply a virtual
representation of our imaginations playing games with us! that
mr. potato head doesn't _really_ look like a severed head, does it?
kaia: haha! no!
mogel: it doesn't even look like a mr. potato head, does it? because it
doesn't even exist!
kaia: haha! you're right!
mogel: and all those salsa stains on the walls? they don't exist either!
we are simply over-creative teenagers who need to get out of the
house more!
kaia: hahaha yeah!
murmur: but then do we really exist?
mogel: do you *think* you exist?
all: hahahahaha!
---
so our hero saved the day once again
saving freedom for all women and men
the antagonists were foiled by their counterpart
and it wasn't even 'last name simpson, first name bart'
there's a new hero in our town
one who doesn't dress like a clown
unless you count his gorilla slippers
but don't. nothing makes him more chipper
than those.
it's the end of this current adventure
murmur did pay mogel, his check cleared fine
perhaps there'll be sequels to this scripture
but let's hope there's no poetry next time.
____
___| |_ _
___| | _______
| | | |
| | | | | |
____________________________ | | | | | | ____________________________
(____________________________ | | | | | | ____________________________)
| | | | | |
| | | | | |
|_____| |_____|
|___ _
please direct all dto correspondence towards - doomed@voicenet.com
the dto world wide waste homepage - http://wwti.iway.net/dto (temporarily)
to get on the dto mailing list - send mail to doomed@voicenet.com with
the body of the message saying "subscribe dto".
+ official dto rumor of the month: eerie is gay +
(c) copyright 1996 doomed to obscurity productions - all rights reserved.
__________________________________________________________________________
(__________________________________________________________________________)
