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The Hogs of Entropy 0571
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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #571
`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8
888 888 888 888 888 "How Hardk0re Learned To
888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8 Stop Worrying and Love"
888 888 888 888 888 "
888 888 `88b d88' 888 o by Kaia [4/14/99]
o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8 Purchased by Hardcore (HOE #461)
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Why couldn't life be as simple as it was in first grade? Oceans of
girls used to flock to Hardk0re during recess, giggling as they watched him
draw. His specialty, as it was widely known, was pre-WWI United States
presidents. Even his gym teacher admired his art; George Washington and
Andrew Jackson were as good as doctors' notes, even on physical fitness
test days.
During field trips to the Natural History museum or the Maple Syrup
factory, the sweetest girls fought to sit next to him. Still, he was
always upset that he couldn't get them to be anything more than "friends."
Although he liked playing Barbie with the girls and always being Ken, he
still felt curious yearnings to tear off his classmates' dresses and steal
their frilly little panties.
Nothing had changed since then: Hardk0re still drew a crowd
whenever he left his Park Place apartment for Ramapo Graphics where he
worked as a culinary artist, drawing pictures of food in restaurant menus.
He still had girlishly inverse muscles, still ate his Puffity-Flakes with
Yoo-Hoo each morning... and still wasn't getting the romantic attention he
needed and wanted so badly. Granted, his first grade obsession with little
girls had become a full-blown grown-up obsession with women -- specifically,
tearing off their dresses and stealing their panties. But sometimes he
feared his sex life had peaked in first grade, because no one had
worshipped his gifts since. Even presidential portraiture gets old, and
nobody respects culinary portraiture these days.
Although Hardk0re considered himself straight, liking only women
and their underwear, he was not afraid of looking gay. In fact, he
frequently acted like a gay man. Every time he left his home, he screamed,
"I'm OUT and PROUD!" and "I'm HERE and QUEER!" because he thought he was
being Mr. Brave/Funny Guy. "How courageous I am," he thought, "I'm acting
how other guys are always afraid of acting!" He also wanted to debunk the
myth that only gay people look gay, draw the attention of the artsy girls
who fall in love with gay men, and draw the attention of the gay men,
because they were generally better company than straight men. And today,
as usual, he did all three. But as the crowds and odd glances dissipated,
he couldn't believe what was about to happen: a beautiful brunette in a red
dress and sunglasses emerged from the crowd and approached him.
"I've seen you here every day, Hardk0re" she said, "And I find your
mad screaming to be quite charming. And I know you're not actually gay,
just pretending."
"H--how did you know my name?"
"I can't explain now. Just listen closely." Her breath smelled
like oranges as she touched his shoulder and drew her lips to his ear.
"Put this--"
"This? What's that?"
"Unfortunately, if I told you, you wouldn't believe me." She
removed her sunglasses. "Trust me, it will be good for you to do exactly
as I say. Now stick out your tongue, and--"
"Umm, I'm not interested, thanks!" He started to leave.
"LISTEN TO ME, Hardk0re." She knew his vulnerability, according to
what the Googagon Crystal Federation crystal had told her that morning.
For the first time in ten years, the crystal had spoken for the gathering
of meditating Federation onlookers! "I haven't had sex for four years.
Maybe you can help me out?"
His heart rate doubled. Did someone just say 'sex'? He decided to
execute the "Pity Me, Please" mack. "Why should four years without sex
impress me? I've gone 19 years without it."
"No questions, just answers. Put this on your tongue," she said,
handing him a small pink paper square, "and do not swallow for five
seconds. Do it."
"Doud." He watched the square glisten invitingly like a warm vagina
(or at least how he imagined one would be). Tomorrow he'd be able to tell
his friends about how he was seduced by a beautiful woman who gave him
drugs and free love and finally her panties, and he would lick her panties
and smell them and wrap them around his head like a blindfold that would
make him cum thirty-three times. . . "That's not LSD, is it?"
"This? No! It's pSTD."
"pre-Sexually-Transmitted-Disease?"
"Hey, this is no laughing matter, Hardk0re. I was instructed by
Kroh to administer this to you so that you may join us who Understand. We
who Know."
"Know..know what? And why?"
She didn't actually know the answers. "Here," she said, handing
him the pink square. "Try."
"Tell me what it is first, and then I might do it." In his hand,
part of a picture of a dancing bear on the pink square seemed to be singing
to him.
She took a deep breath. "It's a Parietal Serotonic Tracking Device.
Every weekend, the crystal sheds pSTDs like confetti, and we collect them
in huge buckets to dispense to those who we want to save." She smiled.
"We of the Federation celebrate every seven days. We are healthy and
strong. The pSTDs can show you the way to love, but the rest is up to
you."
"Hm." She had really nice cleavage. Maybe she even wore a
g-string.
"On this planet, there are so many people who do not know how to
love: neither themselves nor other people. They go through life,
frustrated and confused over why they are unhappy, and it affects how they
treat others, approaching every social situation as a threat or
confrontation. Have you ever wondered why some people don't just chill
out, play a little music..?"
"Hey, I could make you an awfully nice painting of Bill Clinton in
the Oval Office, or even a malted milkshake, if you like.."
"Listen to me." She was serious. "No one is doomed. There is a
race of individuals who do love, unconditionally-"
"What race?"
"The Googagons.."
"Oh my." Hardk0re was now convinced that she was a little loony.
But he did want her panties, and so he had to play flirty-boy. "Here's
the scoop, sweetie-pie. I'll be among the 'Knowing,' anyday, if it means
I could be Knowing you. But I've never heard of these so-called
Googagons! What'll we do?!%$"
She sighed. "It doesn't matter, baby." More desperate measures
would be needed. She flashed her best come-hither. "If I can't have you,
I don't want anyone." She was on fire. "Now just put it on your tongue,
and..." Go. "..Hm, what's that?"
"Excuse me, you're on fire!"
In a matter of milliseconds, while he was distracted by the flaming
corner of her dress, she put another pink square on her own tongue. "Here,
watch this." She licked her fingers and extinguished it. "Prada, 1999.
'It's what's hot!'"
He was spellbound.
"In a few seconds I'll be giving you a small grey envelope. Do not
open it immediately. Instead, take it to the nearest Acme market, hand it
to the man looking at applesauce in Aisle 3. He will show you the way."
"But what about you?" The world was starting to look more vibrant
already.
"I'll see you there." She flashed her panty-line, Calvin Klein.
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #571 - WRITTEN BY: KAIA - 4/14/99 ]
