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The Hidden Obvious 001
ÞßÜ ÞßÜ ÜßÜ ÞßÜ Þ Ý ÞßÜ ÜßÜ ßÝß ÞßÜ ÜßÜ ÜßÜ ÞßÜ
ÞÜÝ ÞßÜ Ý Þ ÞÜÝ Þ Ý Þ Þ Ý Þ Ý Þ Þ Ý Þ Ý Þ Þ Þ
Þ Þ Þ Ý Þ Þ ÞßÝ Þß Ý Ý Þß \ Ý Þ ÞÜ
Þ Þ Þ Ý Þ Þ Þ Ý Þ Þ Ý Þ Ý Þ Þ Ý Þ Ý Þ Þ
Þ Þ Þ ßÜß Þ Þ Ý ÞÜß ßÜß ÜÝÜ ÞÜß ÞÜÝ ßÜß Þ
ÞßÜ ßÝß Þ Þ Ý Ý ÜßÜ ßÝß ÜßÜ Þ Þ
Þ Þ Ý Þ Þ Ý Ý Ý Þ Ý Ý Þ Þ\Þ
Þ Þ Ý Þ Þ Ý Ý \ Ý Ý Þ Þ Þ
Þ Þ Ý Þ Þ Ý Ý Ý Þ Ý Ý Þ Þ Þ
ÞÜß ÜÝÜ ÞÜÜ ÞÜÜ ÞÛ ÞÜÝ ÜÝÜ ßÜß Þ Þ
ÞßÜ Ý Ý ÞMÝ ÜßÜ ßÞß Þ Ý ÞßÜ ÞßÜ ÞßÛ ÜÛÜ
Þ Þ ÞÞ Þ Ý Ý Þ Þ Þ Ý Þ Þ ÞßÜ Ý Þ Ý Þ
ÞßÞ Ý Þ Ý Ý Þ Þ ÞßÝ Þß Þ Þ ÞÜÜÜ ßßßÝ
Þ Þ Ý Þ Ý Ý Þ Þ Þ Ý Þ Þ Þ Þ Ý Þ Ý Þ
ÞÜß Ý Þ Ý ßÜß Þ Þ Ý ÞÜß Þ Þ ßÛß ÛÜÝ
ÄÍ DISCLAIMER ÍÄ
Everything depicted in this file is not reality, unless otherwise described by
the author, Mother 69. With that, please enter my mind and have a safe and
uninformative journey.
-=* REALITY *=-
Well, since this is my first text file, and I am a text lamer as of this
writing, I guess that it should be about what has happened to me that would
make me want to do something like this. As it is with everyone else, I was
fucked up because of my parental units, my father to be exact. You see, he
decided to leave the "picturesque" lifestyle that we had to go off with his
old highschool sweetheart that we'll call "Bunny". Sure she has nice large
hooters, and a nice butt, but is that anyway to start a relationship? Well
maybe it is, but I get absolutely nothing out of it, so it doesn't really
matter to me in the least bit why he did it. And because of this, I am the
mentally disturbed motherfucker that you are reading about. There is also
the times that I had the shit beaten out of me in elementary by big groups
of people that didn't understand me at all, I was the "outcast" of my place
of institutionilization. Otherwise known as school. It was here that many
escapades that I will tell you about, and other escapades that really have
absolutely nothing to do with school, but more with sex, the universe, me,
and everyone's fave: drugs.
Let's start off with sixth grade, the formative year that basically had
everyone guessing exactly what made me tick, and be such a fucking weird-o.
You see, I was the kind of kid that thought that it was funny to mess with
the teacher's head by putting pentagrams on the tops of my hands and then
go to reading group and constantly stare at the teacher. Another thing that
I would do would to write stories. Wonderful pieces of liturature such as
Rambo meets the Carebears, Leslie's Bunnies from Hell, Why the World is such
a shit hole (one of my least famous works), assorted plannings that depicted
taking over the school by first taking over the cafeteria to gain access to
all of the forks and knives and then holding the teachers hostage, then to
have a helecopter land in the school's parking lot to take me to Mexico where
I would fuck the women, but not drink the water.
-=* Fiction *=-
I had an ego at this time, I was the bully of the school and everyone liked
me for it. No one messed with me, I used to sit in the back of class saying
absolutely nothing but what the teacher wanted to hear, and handing in my
homework every night. I was a model student and everyone liked me sooooooooo
much that I had to use a planner to organize my life. "Well lemmie see, I
can fit you in for about 15 minuets on Wendsday at 5:30pm, and... that's it."
-=* Reality *=-
Well, maybe it didn't exactly happen that way, but it would have been nice
to have that as my reality. I was the exact opposite of all of that, sadly
enough. No one noticed my nervous ticks for what they were, I used to spaz
out when I got home with them after a typical day at school, and I still have
them. Why do I have to be blessed with this? Ah, fuck 'em, fuck 'em all. I
have given up on what other people think about me.
_____________________________________________________________________________
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Well, so much for THO file # 1, hopefully the ones in the future will be
more entertaining, I have alot of material to work with anyways.
-=* Mother 69 *=-
