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Impulse Reality 307
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.d""b. impulse reality press no. 307 - there'll be confusing things
[-- $$ $$ $$ -- ------------------------------------------------------ --]
$$ $$ "thanks for nothing, assholes"
$$ $$ written by krznpsk
$$ $$ released 4/26/05
[-- $$ $$ ------ ---.------------------------------------------------.- --]
\ krznpsk, formerly known as kreid, edits y0lk /
`--------------------------------------------'
hey dudez... how'z it going? all right! anyway, yeah, i dunno...
yeah, i just got on the computer and stuff. i sorta realized i was, like,
too
fucked up to operate the remote control. so i decided to go on the computer
and, you know, surf the net. i was pretty much just dicking around. cuz
i'm
really fucked up right now. ehehehehehe...
shit, hold on, i'm gonna light a cigarette.
the text file writer retrieved a cigarette from a cardboard pack, placed it
between his lips, then gracefully gripped his lighter between two hooves and
lit up. he proceeded to dictate to his secretary, sandra.
where was i? yes. line fourteen. sandra?
"line fourteen."
good. okay, start a new paragraph.
"sir, if i might..."
sure, go ahead.
"i think now would be a good time to pick up the pace a little bit. you've
established a great mood, it's really unique, textured even; but i'm
starting
to wonder if there's a point or if you're just going to..."
all right, i hear you. jesus.
"i don't mean to be so critical. i'm just offering my honest input as a
reader. i think you need to start driving a story."
like with a dialogue?
"actually, that'd be perfect!"
right. first though, let me just ask you something.
"mmhmm."
'driving a story?' what the fuck is that supposed to mean?
"you know, like..."
let me guess. did you learn that in your fucking writer's workshop?
"well my professor..."
okay. sshhhhh!!! you can stop right there. i don't really give a shit
about
your professor.
"sorry."
sandra, actually i really should tell you: you're being really distracting
right now. it's not helping. actually... you're fired. get the hell out
of
here.
sandra quickly packed her things and left the residence of her former
employer,
the text file writer.
sorry dudez! you know how chicks can be. but ever since i decided to have
my hands and feet surgically replaced with goat's hooves, it's awfully hard
to write a text file on my own.
it's not like the old days, back when i had hands. because now, instead of
hands, i have goat's hooves. i don't mean to bitch, but being a 2nd-phase
transspecies is a real mess.
the ladies aren't into it. neither was my boss. she fired my ass when she
caught me in the bathroom shooting up goat hormones. racist bitch.
there are really a lot of bad people out there.
well shit, now i'm pissed off. i'm gonna sign off now, so, thanks for
nothing
assholes.
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