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y0lk-049
--(y0lk)---------------------------------------------------------------------
y0lk: 6 insignificant ziners in a bowling microcosm of life
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a play. i feel like writing a play. of course, i have no idea why;
it probably comes from some influence given to me by a play i've read in some
recent time... but who cares. i feel like writing a play, about ziners.
a dorky thing to do; yes it is. it's been done a thousand times; yes it has.
but, as you've heard me say before, i really don't give a rat's ass about
y0lk; so forget it. yeah. so here it is. here's my play.
--(yay)----------------------------------------------------------------------
- ACT ONE -
.. scene one ..
creed and trip are sitting in an empty bowling emporium, talking.
creed: uhm, you came all the way to new jersey just to be at this
stupid y0lk party.
trip: yeah, man!!#@$
creed: I GUESS THAT'S WHY THEY CALL YOU TRIP!
trip: HAR HAR HAR.
creed: well, thanks.
trip: no problem, mang. i'd travel any distance to be at a
y0lkfest!
creed: i can't tell you how much of a loser you are.
trip: guh. we're all losers. that's the tag you take when you
become a zine person. i'm a loser, and i'm damn proud of it.
two freaky kids gallop in, screaming.
creed: oh, great. i suppose this is the rest of the 201 squad.
trip: bleah.
the freaks calm down and present themselves.
hooch: uhm, hi. i'm hooch.
phorce: and i'm his trusty sidekick, fallout boy!
creed: hey phorce.
hooch: uh. why the hell did we decide to meet in a bowling alley?
creed: bowling rules man!@##
hooch: we're not gonna actually bowl, are we?
creed: uh, no.
much rejoicing follows.
trip: so. uhm. what now?
loud crashing noises come from above.
phorce: uhm, what the hell is on the roof?
trip: reindeer!@#
hooch: <snore>
the roof collapses, and two men dressed in ninja gear come crashing
down from the roof.
creed: gad!@$ it's the japanese hitmen, they've found me!@!
trip: no, it's the mighty morphin power rangers!!#@
the ninjas approach and strike a pose.
belial: no, it is us. we represent the avalon dojo of 908.
edicius: good to see you.
hooch: <drool>
creed: uhm, you went out and bought ninja costumes, and set up this
crap on the roof just to surprise us?
belial: yeah!@ we rule, eh?!
creed: you people spend way too much time on zine life.
edicius: i bought these throwing stars, too! check 'em out!
edicius whips out three chinese throwing stars, and throws them in
random directions. one hits hooch in the back.
hooch: gah!@#!@# what the hell happened? where am i?!!@?$
trip: you are in the united nations board room, doctor jones.
welcome.
phorce: nyuk, nyuk, nyuk.
creed: yeah. well. is this it? i don't think anyone else is
coming.
belial: i guess not.
there is a dramatic pause, and a loud rumbling noise outside.
creed: ack!@#! what the hell is that?!?!
the crowd dashes outside to see what's going on.
.. scene two ..
the ziners, arriving outside, are greeted by an enormous spaceship
landing.
creed: what in god's name is that?!
phorce: oooh!!! aaahhhh!!@@!#$@#%
theme from 2001
belial: it could only be one man.
trip: englebert humperdink?
edicius: WHOA!$@$! nobody told me englebert humperdink was coming!@#
is he gonna sing?!@#?
phorce: yeah!@# this rules!@#!@# y0lkfest kicks ass!@#@
<highfives>
the spacecraft lands, out comes a three foot man, somewhat resembling
buddha.
mogel: greetings.
creed: AAAAAAH!!#@$$!*#@$!*@#$&#@*$&
trip: it's an antwerp!@ kill it!@#@$%%
creed: AAAAAAAAAAAAH!@#*!@$!@$!*&!*#&%*#@%&!*#&%
phorce: it's godzilla!
hooch: dot novasys dot com.
creed: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH#@$!$@(!*$!($*!(@*!$!@(*$
edicius: someone kick creed or something.
belial ninja-kicks creed in the face, creed passes out.
mogel: hi guys.
trip: greetings, grandmaster m.
mercuri: poi is a gooey purple substance that is considered a culinary
delight in most parts of hawaii. i like poi.
mogel: uhm, it's cold out here, and the plot's dwindling. let's go
inside.
exeunt.
.. scene three ..
the crowd is wreaking havoc inside the abandoned bowling emporium.
belial and trip are trying to shove phorce into the ball return,
hooch is trying to get the knife out of his back, mogel is playing
with his silly laptop, creed is passed out on the floor.
mogel: i glued my feet to the ceiling. eat sand.
trip: moo. that's what cows say. they say, "mooooooo" and the
farmers just sit there. cows are silly.
creed awakens.
mogel: hi creed.
creed: AAAAH!@$)!*#$% oh, hi mogel. i didn't expect you to come.
the group re-gathers, upon finding that phorce is just a little too
big to fit in the ball return.
trip: hey, creed woke up.
belial: hi creed.
phorce: uh, guys, i can't feel my arm. i think you broke some blood
vessels or something.
creed: sorry, i must have dozed off or something. so. how is
everybody?
phorce: my hand is turning blue.
creed: uhm, this bowling alley is boring. let's go eat somewhere.
anyone got a car?
<silence>
creed: uhm, let's walk. walking is more fun than yahtzee, except
when you play australian-style.
everybody leaves. yay.
.. scene four ..
the crowd is sitting in a booth at a diner. mogel is playing with
his laptop, trying to compile a dto special-release. belial and trip
are trying to see how many pringles they can fit down phorce's pants.
hooch is trying to get the throwing star out of his back. edicius
is mushing cheese between his toes. creed is just-a whistlin' dixie.
trip: uh, food. someone get a waitress.
phorce: yoo-hoo!@$ waitress!@#$
a gum-smacking waitress approaches.
waitress: yeah, what do you all want?
mogel: RRRRRRRR-RABBIT STEW!@#!@#!@%(!#&%*!#&%
phorce: grape jell-o, please.
trip: one live cow, por favor.
hooch: i'd like a rotten corpse, al dente.
belial: give me mozzarella sticks or give me death.
waitress: yo. is that all?
mahatma ghandi: touch me, love me, feel my tender, yet bony breasts. love
them. worship me. i am ghandi.
waitress: ok, then. 15 minutes.
waiter leaves.
creed: m0gm0gm0gm0gm0gm0gm0gm0gm0gm0gm0gm0g.
satan rushes through the door, looks around the diner. upon seeing
the ziners at a table, he approaches and speaks.
satan: hey guys.
creed: hey satan.
<r0oth4x0r> dcc me saten
satan: uhm, creed. can i borrow a couple bucks, i need gas money.
belial: don't do it, man!@@!# he's trying to con you out of your
soul!@#!!$
creed: uhm... sure, satan. have a seat, i'll buy you some food.
satan: thanks, man.
satan sits down with the group.
waitress: ok, here's your food. one soup, one grape jell-o, one live
cow, one rotten corpse, and one order of mozzarella sticks.
hooch: i ordered that al dente, you whore!@#%@#%
satan: it's ok, man. i'll take care of her.
satan incinerates the waitress. the group gnarls down their food.
edicius: yum. that was food.
creed: yep. what now?
satan: let's go to 7-11.
everybody stands up and leave.
mogel: i'm not done with my soup!@$!% bastards!@$@$^
.. scene five ..
the crowd is at a 7-11. everyone is drinking out of the slurpee
machine.
hooch: glugglugglugglugglugglugglug.
trip: h3y guys!@#!@# satan iz here!@#!@# wh0a!@# elete!@$#
phorce: my arm just fell off, guys. maybe we should get an ambulance
or something.
indian clerk: are you boys going to buy something or are you just going to
drink out of my slurpee machine all night?
satan incinerates the clerk. mogel takes the stand as clerk and
starts to play with the 7-11 store computer.
kris: my name is d-a-double d-y-m-a-c, there ain't another brother
bad as me.
trip: this is boring. i'm going to make a bomb.
trip begins the construction of a bomb in the corner of the store.
mogel: d00dz!@# i've almost hacked root on this ware!@$$ eleete!$
hooch: glugglugglugglugglugglugglugglugglugglug.
belial: uhm, hooch is starting to get bigger. he's drinking a lot
of that slurpee stuff. black cherry, too. that flavor
sucks.
talking cow: i believe that eastern european nations shifting to a
free-market economy may not actually be a good idea.
trip: the bomb is complete. seeing as the plot of this story is
completely dead, i guess i'll blow this joint up.
mogel: wait!@$# d00dz!@$ i'm almost done k0ding this virus!@$ and
i gotta upload tha dig-dug game!@!@#!
<explosion>
--(y0lk)---------------------------------------------------------------------
ok. that's it. my sucky little play. by the way, i'm in hong kong
writing this. seriously. hong kong sucks.
but... before i end this, i feel like a poem. here's my poem.
--(poem!#@)------------------------------------------------------------------
melting,
melting,
melting,
melting,
melting,
melting,
the commies are melting
my
brain
...
aaaah!@#
--(fin)----------------------------------------------------------------------
.d&$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$&b.
$ ## $ title $ author $
$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$
$ 01 $ the other white meat $ creed $
$ 02 $ several k-leet hax0rs sittin around a campfire and groovin $ creed $
$ 03 $ nuclear weapons, global destruction, op wars. $ creed $
$ 04 $ a young man, an infant, a yak... all living in sin $ creed $
$ 05 $ household uses for afghanistanian food $ creed $
$ 06 $ pour cement down my anus $ hooch $
$ 07 $ hail santa! $ creed $
$ 08 $ hasidism and sysops - a pair for the nineties? $ hooch $
$ 09 $ lunchables rock. $ creed $
$ 10 $ t-shirts and toejam $ bedlam $
$ 11 $ nap-time - the dog prank - exclusive interview $ hooch $
$ 12 $ movie reviews [showgirls!@] - win95 vs. os/2 [sorta] $ hooch $
$ 13 $ straight outta' compton - dialchix - muh dawg!@ $ hooch $
$ 14 $ i'm a tall, goofy, dorky, chink $ phorce $
$ 15 $ bedazzled by the eliteness $ creed $
$ 16 $ how to blow your nuts out with cornstarch and orangina $ creed $
$ 17 $ i am a warez pup - who are you? $ hooch $
$ 18 $ lemmings $ phorce $
$ 19 $ the science of astrology $ belial $
$ 20 $ the notorious anticlimactic bastards of the zine scene $ cd/h0 $
$ 21 $ dUcK 54uc3?!#$!? $ phorce $
$ 22 $ top 5000 reasons why i should kill myself $ creed $
$ 23 $ citrus fruits for sale $ phorce $
$ 24 $ group masturbation $ belial $
$ 25 $ ethereal experiences for perverted pyromaniacs $ creed $
$ 26 $ catering for the warez eleet $ phorce $
$ 27 $ brief mental pause $ belial $
$ 28 $ the army day camp $ belial $
$ 29 $ the geek theory, hickies, and another long day $ creed $
$ 30 $ nets, zines, and that chick from wings $ hooch $
$ 31 $ mentos! the freedom giver! $ mercuri $
$ 32 $ ramblings of a poseur $ bedlam $
$ 33 $ sitcoms, stereotypes, and satan $ creed $
$ 34 $ fuck you - a note to all y'all on #zines $ hooch $
$ 35 $ apples, oranges, and pears $ phorce $
$ 36 $ the little cultist that couldn't $ creed $
$ 37 $ careening through hyperspace at a slug-like rate $ creed $
$ 38 $ snowday $ phorce $
$ 39 $ creed is g0d $ creed $
$ 40 $ big hurt is ruler of the earth $ bighurt $
$ 41 $ dead people, nasty thoughts, and colored glue $ bighurt $
$ 42 $ bbs softwares/internet $ hooch $
$ 43 $ abandon thy gods! from yonder cometh y0lk! $ creed $
$ 44 $ mogel's own very special personalized $1 y0lk issue $ phorce $
$ 45 $ your burro is no jackass! $ creed $
$ 46 $ rollerskates, indians, eagles and cougars $ creed $
$ 47 $ outer space, ice cream, streetcars and gophers $ creed $
$ 48 $ Evan the genius becomes enlightened and melts his face off $ creed $
$ 49 $ 6 insignificant ziners in a bowling microcosm of life $ creed $
"T$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$T"
if you see your name on that chart, you are a y0lk member, whether you
like it or not. if you are a y0lk member, you have a y0lk member board, et
cetera.
hooch is the stupendous chief shephard of y0lk.
phorce is the head samurai of y0lk! beware!
mindcrime is an official y0lk member, cuz he's just so damn wacky-ass.
email creed@nexxus.novasys.com to contact me. yep.
