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The Hogs of Entropy 0052
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| | Hogs of Entropy Text Files Present... | |
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| | "The Lump from the Dump" | |
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| | By: Visioknight | |
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The Dragon in the Fridge
------------------------
I am a dragon. Not a prissy Silver, or an arrogant Red, or a wise Gold;
I am a rare dragon, an Aluminum Foil Dragon. My skin sparkles with the
promise of wrapped meat products; my tail shimmers, enticing you with
the possibility of leftover delights. I am a proud beast.
This anecdote that follows is a prime example of my life. I was resting
peacefully in my chilled square cavern when a light flared and the cavern
wall snapped off, flying to the far left. A pink head poked its way through
the cavern entrance, and prodded around above me. From my viewpoint, it
resembled a hydra! A pink hydra! A pink, searching hydra! I vowed to
somehow stop it from invading MY territory.
Stepping over a pot of baby corndragons and bypassing a bottle of spicy
dragon fire tabasco, I positioned myself in a prime position to launch my
strike and growled a warning, giving the clear-helmeted pink thing a
chance to escape my wrath. It did not move away, it simply picked and
rummaged through more of my fallen counterparts.
Mock ME, will thou?
I reared my foil head and began to thrash about. You will die, pink
thing!, I thought as I began to hiss.
What was I filled with today?
Steak bits spiraled out of my hissing orifice, and pelted the pink thing,
which reared up and backed out. Then it struck! All five helmeted heads
enveloped me, and in a moment, the dirty act began! The cursed thing was
raping me! It's heads opened my insides and rummaged, stealing my
steak-fuel and yanking me out of my cold hibernating, slamming me on the
hard white surface outside. I writhed in agony as my insides were bared
and eaten.
Then, it was over. Chicken now fills my belly, and I know the pink menace
will return. And on the day it does, I will strike with harsher venom.
trash.and.run
-------------
group.introductions
A tall, thin teenager with dreadlocked hair tousled over his thin brown
eyes hunched over a terminal in the far side of the room, typing furiously as
five others stood above him in a semicircle. It was the standard random
initiation to the five, and an adrenaline hell for the subject who had been
at the terminal for approximately 2 hours straight.
Someone coughed. It was the leader of the group, a six-foot-eleven
monstrosity of a man, dressed in a faded denim and a vivid ivory-and beige
baggy tunic with black turtleneck. He also wore a pull-hood which completely
obscured his face - it was all part of the intimidation factor of initiation.
Everyone in the group called him Oblivion, because of his false eyes which
glowed with unnatural heat - Oblivion had formed the group on the basis of
intimidation, and they had been terrorizing the phone company, TPC, telco,
the evil empire, for a period of at least 3 years.
"Superb job so far, John. If you can make it from here into the Telco
dumping directory, you're almost assured a vote in," boomed Oblivion. He
turned and whispered to the other four as the panting John looked up, his
head twisted in an awkward, wet position.
"We're going for coffee, hotshot. Figure out the dump site and meet us
outside. Later," piped Vampiress, a short female with cropped hair, wearing
an apron and ripped jean shorts. She began to walk out, and the remaining
four lagged behind her.
"Coffee tastes excellent in chill weather. Let that be an enticement
for you to display haste," spoke a darkly humorous suited man called Butler.
"Sure, whatever." muttered John as he resumed typing.
outside.the.warehouse
Two hours later, John emerged from the drab blue warehouse with spool
paper dangling from his hands. A pale hand shot out from the darkness beside
the exit door and flew up to the initiate's face. With a flick, his glasses
slid back up his nose.
"About time, pokey," mumbled Kidd-2, an 11-year old dressed in a totally
black outfit.
"Ya figure out the dump site or were you just wasting our time, newbie?"
spat Vampiress, tossing some foreign object end over end in the darkness.
She caught it one last time and smiled altogether too widely.
"Yes... I have the dump site. It's at the fifth lot of Peatrix, section
5-C. There's a lot of stuff, so whatever we take should be jackpot,"
stuttered John, shoving the sheets of paper in offertory to Oblivion.
"No, keep them. You may want to frame them later..." murmured Oblivion.
"Planning on telling him, Obv?" shot Iguana, a nondescript bearded man
of 22.
"Telling me...?" queried John.
"Telling *who* is the first order of business. What would you like to
be known as, initiate?" interrupted Vampiress, and began tossing her object
again, smiling.
"You mean I'm in? Great!" yelled John...
"Yes, well, we need your new name. Now." said Oblivion, and pulled back
his cloak. John gasped as he saw the leader's unnatural, all-black eyes.
"They say that you can see your own demise when you look into Oblivion,"
uttered the giant, and then began chuckling, "and you also need an
appropriate name."
"How about..." began John.
"How about Newbie?" laughed Vampiress.
"Slowpoke?" grinned Iguana.
John shot dark glares at the two. "I prefer... I prefer... how about
Deathknight?"
"Been used." grumbled Kidd-2.
"Hmm... Visio... no, Phiberknight. That couldn't have been used."
The group paused. "Very well, Phiberknight. Now it's time to go
trashing and see if you pass the final initiation." elucidated Oblivion.
getting.to.the.scene
The long, thin needle of a vizcar spun silently at a breakneck pace
through the streets and subterranean tunnel-magnet streets. At the
Peatrix-Highland submagno intersection, the vehicle came to a swift stop and
shot upwards through the vacuum-controlled release tunnel. In an instant,
the vizcar was parked outside of the Peatrix dumps and the six inhabitants of
the car were surveying the place.
"This is the first time TPC has dumped their stuff at Peatrix. Weird."
remarked Vampiress, still standing in an island of darkness in the lighted
dump lot.
"It's either important, dangerous, or..." broke off the tall leader,
shifting within his trenchcoat.
"...or Phiber here is full of it. We'll find out, I'm sure. Come on."
laughed Iguana, joking, but with a glint of questioning in his obscure,
mirrored sunglass covered eyes. With that, he began walking towards the
shielded gates with a dull brown card appearing in his hand. The group
followed in eager anticipation.
carding.peatrix
Iguana inserted the brown multi keycard into the input panel on the
robotic GuardGate (tm) system which protected the dump from nightweasels and
murderers eager to dispose of questionable items. With skilled hands, the
expert Iguana drew the end of an alligator clip from his trenchcoat to
connect to the card. With a flip of some switch on the inside pocket, the
card's color melted from brown to bright silver for a split second, and then
died down.
"Go! It's recalibrating for 5 seconds!" Iguana gasped, and hurriedly
moved his hands toward the keycard and wire. With a yank, he pulled the card
and leaped through the gate...
trash.and.run
"Phiber said it was in 5-C, so where is it?" Vampiress questioned,
pouting at Oblivion, who responded with a feeble shrug and glance around.
"Where is Phiber, anywa--" Butler began. His arms flew up in
midsentence as the air suddenly became ionized and his speech halted.
Vampiress spun around to face him.
"What the hell...?" she uttered. Butler's gray eyes suddenly shot a
blinding white light, and his cranium ruptured, falling apart in a
disintegration that was both disgusting and fascinating at the same time.
carding.peatrix.with.lack-of-agility
Iguana's trenchcoat belt made a sizzling hiss as the gate's shielding
system closed in mid-leap. In one last train of thought, he wondered why no
one was screaming or running towards him.
trash.and.run.accidental.sniper.fire
"Oh my God! Oh--oh--" John stuttered, and dropped the glowing yellow
gunlike piece of machinery. "I--I didn't mean to...ah--"
Vampiress frowned at him. "What in the...augh! How could you...holy
shit!" Oblivion snatched the weapon up from the ground.
"Where in the hell did you get this from? Damnit, answer me!" With no
answer forthcoming, Oblivion disgustedly threw the weapon in John's face.
A scream erupted from the air. Kidd-2 stood above the diagonal top half
of Iguana, which was saudered shut from the other part. A silent scream was
etched on Kidd's face.
"Damn. Damn. What the hell else could go wrong? There isn't even
anything worth TAKING here! What the hell kind of sick joke is this, John!?"
screamed Oblivion, his cloak slipping back to reveal his placid black eyes
flaring to red. Vampiress and Kidd-2 stood behind him, seething.
"Nuke 'em," whispered John, who pushed a button on his belt and backed up.
trash.and.run.assassination
Three screams erupted as targeted ion fire ripped through the chests of
the members and transmogrified them from living matter to nonliving bone and
dust.
telco.revealed
"Superb job, John. If you can just take out more hack groups, we can
officially put you on the salary roll! Welcome to the phone company,
Assassin John!" smiled the department head, shaking John's hand all the
while.
The Presents of Satan
---------------------
"I think that I shall play a prank upon the world," thought Loki as he
pulled from a long hookah pipe and lazed back upon his fiery burgundy
steel throne, smiling in a manner that suggested evil but hinted at
mockery. As if on cue, two wisps of thin, heavy smoke erupted from the
circular brimstone areas surrounding Loki's throne, and in a split second,
irregular blue faeries coalesced into existence, each flapping their
wings wildly in an attempt to both remove the sticky goo surrounding them
from the surface, and to clear the annoying, hazy smoke from their person.
Loki smiled and leaned back even further in his chair. His left hand
floated up to support his leaning head, and the right slowly arched out
along the length of the chair arm. The imps spun around and dusted them-
selves off, sensing their lord's impatience. "Lord Satan, we wish to
have audience with you. There is a dire need for your assistance in the
mortal realm; your despicable sibling has spread his poison there! Our
entrance rates are dropping past the point of no return!"
"Understandable," grinned the incarnate of evil, "but not an impasse. I
have been scheming over a new plan this past century - do you remember my
twin's entrance into the mortal realm?"
The imps shrugged. "We suppose so - the baby Jes--"
Loki coughed. "Anyway... when did he pull that trick? Winter? Yes...
Again, anyway... I've devised a scheme. I'm going to call it Satanday,
and it will involve the celebration of *my* entrance into the mortal
realm. Clever, no?"
"Actually, Liege, that seems rather... blatant, to tell the truth."
"Blatant? Hmm... subtlety was never my strong suit, at least not in these
eras... back in the beginning, though..."
"Liege?"
"Ah...right. How about calling it... hold on... I've got it --"
"Yes, lord? Yes?"
"Jesusday! Christday! Christmas! Yes! Christmas!"
"CHRISTmas, sir?"
"Yes, yes -- we can call it..."
"...a celebration of your evil glory?"
"No, no, you've got the wrong idea! We can call it -- a celebration of
Christ's glory! That's it!"
"And how would this benefit your liegeship, sir?"
"Close-minded imps... can't you see? The marketing potential alone will
push greed to the point of..."
"We see! We see!"
And thus was Christmas wrought from the fires of Hell. Demons and imps
worked and toiled over the basal concept of it while the Assassin CEOs
and Death Angel chairmen created a working marketing scheme - and then -
the concept was leaked onto the mortal world, year by year.
It started with spice...
And continued with flowers...
Then came structured practiced gift-giving...
Eventually, the market was discovered...
And finally, the ending stage of the plan was leaked, a concept known as
"Power Rangers"... replicas of Satan's Warriors, on the shelves in
stuffed form...
Merry Christmas!
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Copyright (c) 1994 HoE Publications and Visioknight. #52 --> 02/04/95
All rights Reserved.
