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There Aint No Justice 024
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| There Ain't No Justice |
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| #24 |
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The Night That Changed My Life
by Locutus of Borg
********************: A DISCLAIMER! READ FIRST, EH!
This story is mostly ficticious. Well, somewhat. Most have the
events have base in actual real-life situations. I guess it would
be better to present them in actual, uneditied form, but where's
the fun in that? And any resemblance to people living or dead is
entirely there for a reason, so zark off. OK, enough with this
silly gunk, on with the text!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------*
It was a dark and stormy night. Well, actually, it was dark and
rather clear. A little too humid, but overall rather nice out. That whole
stormy bit was just included for effect, so there. Anyhow, this fateful
night began as I was driving down a bumpy country road in my jesus-mobile.
(nickname is from my job: a door-to-door Home Crucifixion Kit salesman). As
I made a sharp turn, i saw him. I could hardly believe who it was, but it
was the King himself! I was a little amazed at the prospects of seeing
Elvis on this date, so to verify it was him, I rolled open the window and
shouted "ELVIS!!". His head snapped back, caught sight of my sleek 1968
station wagon, and took off.
By taking off, I don't mean he ran as fast as he could or anything
like that. He really took off. The glitzy sequins on his jacket popped off,
providing a cushion of compressed air. I tried to follow him in my car, but
he had floated over a barn. I was not about to drive the industrious
Jesusmobile through numerous sleeping farm animals, so I comforted myself
with the sight of Elvis flying higher...higher....higher.....until his air
ran out, and he plummeted straight to the ground, and ungracefully went
through the roof of the barn. I lept right out of my sputtering symbol of
American craftsmanship and raced into the barn. When I got in there, i had
to advert my eyes from the disgusing view presented to them. It seemed
Elvis had fallen on a gnu, saving himself, but the gnu was quite dead.
This was evident from the now-covered barn walls with gnu-blood. Icky.
Elvis was now sleeping peacefully on the mangled gnu, looking like
an ugly, obese baby. I tried picking him up, and stuffing him in my car,
but to no avail. I was saddened by this, as I had to show my friends my
find! But it wouldn't work, he was just to flargling big. Then I got a
great plan: tie him to the back of the car! I grabbed some rope from the
barn's wall, tied Elvis's hands to the back fender, and tied his legs to a
skateboard. After I was satisfied with my knot-tying, I leaped into the
Jesusmobile and hit the accelerator.
So there I was, doing 50 on some country road with one of the
biggest rock and roll stars ever tied to the back bumper. I was just, o so
happy. Until, that is, I saw the flashing lights of a local policeman in
my rear-view mirror. Well, I wasn't about to stop and chat with them, being
I had a body being dragged behind my car, and they wouldn't like that too
much, I decided to floor it.
The Jesusmobile lurched forward to an amazing 60 mph. I was
astounded by the lack of speed. I cursed, pounded, and bonked my car, and
explained to it how the law specifically states 'bodies can not be tied to
a back of a motor vehicle without a permit', and how I didn't have a
permit, and if we got stopped, we would be in deep-o shit. All my pleadings
must have reached the heart of the vehicle, and it took off.
When I say 'took off', I mean it accelerated, it didn't do any
nifty flying like Elvis did. Hey, it is only a car. Anyhow, it quickly
reached 108 mph, and I was rejoicing. Then I heard a loud <-SNAP->, and I
quickly looked behind me. I saw the King's body roll off into the darkness.
I almost wept even. Instead, I whipped the wheel around, skidded, hit a
small shrubbery, and lost a rotted old cross off my roof that was utilized
for the training and practice of would-be crucifiers.
Anyway, back to the story. I sped back to where the string had
broke, and noticed a small trail of sequins going down a different road. I
followed the trail until it suddenly stopped in a mini-mall. I've always
hated mini-malls, ever since I was a schoolboy. They were the root of all
things evil to me then, and now. I cautiously entered the parking lot and
began to search frantically for any sign of the King. I checked the
garbage, shrubberies, roadkill, Romeo's Pizza (run by Koreans), A small
Chinese food resturant (run by Russians), and a bagel store (run by Arabs).
Basically everywhere in the whole mini-mall. I was distraught. I struggled
to maintain my composure, until I realized i never had any composure to
begin with. I felt better after that. I trudged back to my
ready-for-scrapheap Jesusmobile, when I tripped and fell over something. To
my amazement, I found (no, not Elvis) a hammer and some very large nails.
"Hey, what the hell is this doing here?!?", I shouted to the
pavement, as I scooped it up. I recognized it as the last sale I made, to a
Mr. John Cristel. I was pissed at the blatant disregard over this fine
product, manufactured by Mr. Picard. I charged blindly over to the nearest
pay phone, and grabbed the handy Phone Book. I let my fingers do the
walking, and this is what I found..
"Chriss C..." No..
"Christensen L..." No..
"Christ J..." N-Hey wait a second..
I could not believe my eyes! Jesus Christ in the phone book!
Amazing! I was so suprised I shouted out, "Oh my God, I found Jesus
Christ!". Then Elvis, who was watching me while I blindly ran past him
before in my mad rush for the phone, muttered,"Hmph...Always in the last
place you look, eh?". Then he vanished.
Well, that was the night that changed my life. I still have
Christ's number to this very day. I've been meaning to call, but what
should I say?
"Hello, is this the Messiah?"
"Jesus? How've ya been? How's the hands?"
"Hello there! What do you think of the Saints chances for the Super
Bowl are?"
See, none quite work. I'll just have to contact him in my own way.
And you can find Jesus too...just look in your phone book.
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