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The Hogs of Entropy 0784
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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #784
`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8 "The Biggest, Largest, Most
888 888 888 888 888 Exciting Heist of All Time,
888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8 Part 8: The TRUE Nature of the Heist"
888 888 888 888 888 " by Nybar
888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 8/12/99
o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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Nybar's apartment minus Nybar, with Jubjub and Dawn the waitress in
the kitchen and Guy and Keith in the monitoring room. Jubjub was
pontificating on some subject or other.
"Well... I suppose we're going to have to tell you eventually anyway,
so I might as well tell you the whole story. This is going to sound pretty
damn weird, so I'll just spit it out:--" after a barely perceptible glance
to make sure Keith and Guy were still in the soundproofed monitoring room,
he continued.
"okay, one more clarification. This isn't going to sound weird.
It's going to sound REALLY weird. Here goes: One night 100 years ago, a
group of ascetic monks practicing a strange religion living in a temple on
top of a mountain wished upon evil spirits to grant them a boon. They
wanted to be able to write their philosophy and spirituality into a Bible
that anyone, even the dumbest of the dumb, could understand, and spread
their religion around the world. One day, weeks later, they got what they
wished for. The head monk woke in his bed of thorns to see a scepter next
to him. When he picked it up, he felt charged with a strange power. He
knew that this is what he had wished for.
"Immediately after giving himself 50 lashes with a bull-whip, he set
to work writing their Bible. He was horrified with the outcome; it was all
popular drivel. It read like a serial novel! The Head-Monk now knew what
anyone who has heard a story like this before knows; don't make a deal with
demons/evil spirits/the devil unless you want to get fucked over.
"The Head Monk sent his young son, Abdul, to the market and had him
sell the scepter. We lose track of it a little here, but it eventually
found it's way into the hands of a J.D. Salinger. Now you know why The
Catcher in the Rye was so popular; it was written by a man with The Scepter.
J.D. Salinger used the scepter judiciously and not very greedily, unlike the
next person it fell into the hands of, Stephen King. I don't know how he
got it, but he's been using it for years to become what he is today.
Finally, I believe the scepter got bored of him. Bam, hit by a van. Don't
fuck with evil spirits.
"After this accident, King's home was broken into. The Scepter was
nowhere to be found. But Stephen King has been heard by hospital attendents
babbling about an evil entity, and the Scepter being taken back to it's
lair. This much practically everyone knows, for it's a legend among hack
writers, which almost all hoe contributors are. 'Find the Scepter and
you'll be rich' is what 'zine veterans tell their gullible compatriots.
"Well, before you call me and Nybar gullible, consider this: an
explorer recently climbed to the top of the mountain the ascetic monk temple
was located. Well, the temple was still there, but no monks. Save for one,
Abdul, the old Head-Monk's son. He was emaciated and nearly incoherently
senile, but he, too, kept babbling about an evil spirit. He gave the
explorer a note from his father. Here's a transcript of it."
Jubjub removes a piece of paper from his right pocket and reads from
it:
"blah blah blah... this is an incoherent part... ah here we go, it
says: The Scepter is completely alive, perhaps a manifestation of the
popular mentality that buys the drivel it produces. An evil spirit for a
modern age, if this is the truth! In any case, though, the scepter will not
be held thrall to the likes of Stephen King for much longer. It will most
likely return to it's ancestral home after taking care of him...,"
Jubjub pauses and furrows his brow, "more incoherency, something
about blue lobsters, ok, it starts again: we were naive to think that we
could create a force as essential as the scepter, really it has always
existed, a conscious entity with no point but to opiate the masses, so to
speak. Heh heh..."
Jubjub paused again "this is another incoherent part actually, it's a
long rant on organized religion, but I'll spare you. Hmm, that's the end of
the useful part. The other thing that the explorer was given was this map."
Jubjub brandished a map. "This is the one advantage we have over the guys
in the Pentagon--whom Nybar thinks are trying to knock us off--we know
exactly where what we're looking for is. In theory at least, but we can't
seem to figure out what region this map is for! Nybar thinks they have the
opposite problem; they know what general area the map is for but don't have
the map! Uh..."
Jubjub pants.
"That's was a mouthfull, yaknow?"
As Jubjub catches his breath, Dawn simply sits, turning the facts
over in her mind. The panting man and the tied up, thinking waitress sit
like this for what seems like an eternity. Dawn finally breaks the silence:
"So, if you can get the sceptre, what do you plan to do with it?
What makes you think you can escape the evil spirits any more than JD
Salinger or Stephen King could?" she asks in earnest, but Jubjub laughs
heartily.
"I don't really know. I'm really just hired help.. take it up with
Nybar!" he replies through his laughter.
Then she laughs too, mainly at the sheer stupidity and self
infatuation of this Nybar character. Jubjub's laughter continued for a long
time, as did the two's conversation.
Menawhile, under the kitchen table, an electronic monitoring device
picks it all up. But the part of interest to the monitors is already over.
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #784 - WRITTEN BY: NYBAR - 8/12/99 ]
