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Warning Issue 13
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Issue 13, 4/15/2003
Written by:
The Warning Crew
Copyright © 2003 The Warning Crew
Website:
http://warningzine.microsux.com
Contacts:
Editor: Happy_Hardcor3@punkmusic.com
Admin: cphifer@zapo.net
Advertising: cphifer@zapo.net
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Editor Speaks
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Well hello I figured it was time for a bit of a release since it has been quite some time
since the last. Well the wind is blowing outside and the sun is shinning so I am making
this a short introduction to a particullarly horrible issue I must say. ADIOS!
Happy_Hardcor3
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AD:
The Neo-Comintern
www.neo-comintern.com
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Last Year II
by Happy_Hardcor3
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I'm not longer going to film school my friends. Your friendly narrator is now
going to major in Music and minor in Philosophy. Yes, Philosophy. The study
of the human thought and reasoning processes. I am going to release an
album and write a book. What the book will be about??? I don't even know. I
just know it is my manifest destiny. As I sit back and drink a Jack Daniels Hard
Cola, I think of reasons why I made the sudden change. Main reason being the
release of an album. I don't know if you know or not, but your fine narrator has
been working long hours writting songs for his album only so far to come up
with 4 decent pieces. Maybe soon I will get another sprout of creativity and
come up with something witty, but who knows?
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Air Conditioning
by Kid_lOco
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My telephone receiver slams down on its cradle. I'm
upset. I am soaked to the skin, sweat runs from my brow.
The air conditioner that I so naively entrusted to the
Yellow Pages Repair shop is delayed another two weeks.
I could have it back tomorrow, I was told, if I happen
to have a compressor relief control valve sensor assembly,
part number 3B25189927.4A, in my pocket. The repairman is
a funny fellow.
Very funny.
"Its a bit stuffy in here," my secretary says, in an
attempt to explain her entering my office. This is
obvious of course as nary a breeze wafts through the
three-foot square hole in my wall that appeared in
synchronization with the air conditioner's disappearance.
She goes to the thermostat, checks the temperature, and
adjusts its setting for the fourth time this morning.
Shaking my head in frustration, I again try to decipher
the overdue report that is now blurred into illegibility
by my sweat.
An excellent typist, she's the best secretary I've
ever had. Completely fulfilling her secretarial duties,
she otherwise keeps to herself. Although I am by nature a
curious man, personal matters between us have never been
discussed. However, with the increase in temperature, her
attire has of late become remarkable as to its increasing
skimpiness.
As to the hole in my wall, I have attempted to fill it
with wadded papers and rags and such. This has proven
ineffective, no thanks to the active flocks of nesting
pigeons in the neighborhood.
Last spring I reeceived a bill from the local office
supply. It was rather badly smeared, but I did notice
something about furniture. A bill from the local office
supply shop recently gave me a clue about my secretary's
personal life.
Her more recent change to now quite revealing attire
confirms my suspicions.
She obviously spends every non-working hour in
thorough personal exploration of all things culinary.
In desperation, I reach for the phone.
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AD:
www.halfblowngypsymusic.com
Wanna be a gypsy?
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The Greedy Dog
by The Highway Blitz
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Once upon a time . . . a dog managed to steal a large steak from a
butcher's shop, and ran into the woods to eat it in peace. On reaching the
banks of a stream, he happened to see his face reflected in the water. Never
for a moment thinking that he was looking at himself in the water, what he
thought he saw was another dog, holding a large steak in its mouth.
Being a greedy dog, he jumped into the stream to snatch the other dog's
meat. Of course, the reflection vanished and he could see no sign of dog or
steak.
Only then did he realize that, when he barked to frighten the other, he had
dropped his stolen meat. Unluckily for him, the current was swift and the
steak had been carried away. And though the dog hunted all over, he couldn't
find a trace of it. Which meant, that instead of having two steaks. he was
left with nothing.
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To submit articles to Warning Zine. Email them to Happy_Hardcor3@punkmusic.com.
We are looking for lots of submissions. We would also like you to let your friends know
about Warning. If you would like to advertise send to the advertising address given.
Thank You For Reading Warning!
