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The Hogs of Entropy 0723
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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #723
`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8 "The Biggest, Largest, Most
888 888 888 888 888 Exciting Heist of All Time
888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8 Chapter 2: The Gathering Storm"
888 888 888 888 888 " by Nybar
888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 7/6/99
o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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"We'd better get going." The reception on the TV was rather grainy.
Mogel and Nybar were evidently about to leave "Yeah, I've got to get
supplies." This was NybarKeith and Guy were hearing this over their
FBI-esque monitoring equipment, in a one-room apartment just across the
street from the diner. Nybar had told them to stay there four hours
earlier. Either one of them would have seperately, presented with the
opportunity, waited to get into the apartment, and beaten Nybar up, and
stolen anything worth stealing. But with both of them there, it had a
gyroscopic, see-saw balancing type affect. They were wary of taking each
other on, and couldn't come to an agreement that might split everything
50-50. It was wise of Nybar to get both of them. Besides, there was
something about him that neither of them trusted.
Keith "This is fucking BORING man."
Guy "What, need a hit?" he laughed, a smooth basso chuckle. His
laugh fit him, he was a big guy.
Keith "Fuck you man."
Guy "Don't say fuck you to ME, you American wannabe spic
mothefucker... I've been raping your two dads up the ass since before you
were sucking your momma's dick."
As always, pride overcame better interests and intelligence in the
underworld. If only they could find a way of working together for the
betterment (economically and spiritually) of all of them... but it will
never happen. People are just naturally assholes, especially in the kill
or be killed enviroment of the lower class.
Keith "Don't go there... just don't even go there."
Guy chuckled again.
Keith "No, I don't mean about yo' dumbass insult talkin about my mama
and pa; never gave a shit about them. Talkin' bout tha 'american wannabe'
part. Take that back you fuck---"
Keith was, tragically, a pretty smart guy. But he couldn't afford to
just live his life in peace because of his NAME. All the homeboys
constantly made fun of him for not having a name like Ramon or Jesus. He
always had to try to live his name down, make himself stand out. Beat the
white kid a little bit harder, smoke a little bit more chronic, whatever.
The thing that really pissed him off is that he never had a chance to be
properly mad at his mother, who gave him the name... she was long gone. And
so here he was, a smart crackhead lured in by an offer he couldn't refuse of
Nybar's. Being naturally suspicious (as most smart people are), he had a
whiff of what was up. But he didn't know that what he had was just that: a
scent of greater things brewing. Being the more intelligent (if more fucked
up) of the two, he was also disgusted by the way Guy would jeapordize the
whole operation.
Guy "I'll say whatever the fuck I want, but for now I'll lay off and
we'll finish this job. After this job is finished (and if I get my way
it'll be over very soon), you're mine."
Keith "Chill hombre... lets finish this job, get the loot, eh?"
Guy grunts. He grunted like a pig. Once again, fitting for his size
and stature. Then, there was silence, as both silently momentarily agreed
to put aside their argument and concentrate on the task at hand... though
neither of them really knew what this was.
Meanwhile, on the screen, Nybar and Mogel are in a hardware store.
Nybar puts a 100 dollar bill on the counter, and the mustachio'd owner of
the store with the bald pate makes a sweeping gesture towards the bottom of
the counter. "We've got all your typical action/adventure shit here...
rifle, grappling hook, Indiana Jones-style hat, compass, enemas (just
because you're old and constipated doesn't mean you can't enjoy a kickin'
adventure!), everything!" said the owner.
"Good" replied Nybar "I'll be wanting it all. For we're going after
the nirvana of lazy 'zine heads, the 7'th heaven anyone who doesn't have
the time or inclination to write something original must always search for.
Except we won't search for it; we'll FIND it. Yes... it will be...
magnificent! BWAHAHAHAHA!"
"But-- Nybar" Mogel interjected into Nybar's post grandiose-speach
cackling "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Mogel. You've spent most
of your jewish life looking for it yourself."
"Surely you don't mean..."
"I *do*. And instead of actually saying what I'm talking about,
I'll just let the pot boil some more."
While Mogel and Nybar had been conversing, the owner was bagging
their equipment and supplies. He now handed the bags to Nybar and Mogel,
who headed outside to put them in the van. Which is when disaster struck...
a whizzing sound...
Mogel "Nybar, I've been shot" and Mogel fell.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #723 - WRITTEN BY: NYBAR - 7/6/99 ]
