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anada334
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.* * \ /\
.* O . . .. ..O .. 334 10 Apr 2001 ) ( ')
.* O O* o o o o o o o ( / )
* ***O O O O O O O O O \( _)|
* O o o.*..o.*..o.*..o. .net "I Think I May Be *
* O Dying" *
*. o |\ _,,,---,,_ *
* /,`.-'`' -. ;-;;,_ *
* |,4- ) )-,_..;\ ( `'-' by AlterEcho *
* '---''(_/--' `-'\_) *mE0w* o
*. .......................................*
'Anada is cat-friendly..o*`
I guess I write a bit about me being sick, eh? I mean, yeah, I
haven't actually written that many textfiles. But a fairly large proportion
of them have been about me being sick. And all of them show that I'm sick in
the head.
I don't think I'm a morbid human being though. I'm full of zing!
and zip! I don't sit around at home in a dark corner and worry that I'm
going to die soon. Sure, the computer is in a fairly shadowy area. In the
corner of our family room. And, yeah, okay, the title of this file is I
Think I May Be Dying. But so what? Shut up, punk.
Besides, I really am sick this time. Doc says I've got badly
inflamed tonsils, but I know better. I can't breathe, I can't swallow, I
can't eat, I can't sleep and my brain isn't working. I'm also cold a lot.
There's not actually much I _can_ do, other than half-doze in front of the
TV and mumble incoherently. If I'm not dead already, I'm bloody close. In
fact, I'm sure that within the next half hour, the saliva building up in my
mouth that I am unable to swallow will flood the passage to my nose, and no
doubt swamp my entire head. Not a pretty way to go, that, drowning in your
own mucas, with smelly liquids pouring out of your ears after your body
falls off the computer chair and strikes the hard, unyielding wooden floor.
Not pretty at all. And I'm quite a good-looking lad.
In any case, I'm pretty sure the end is near. My senses have
sharpened considerably, and those little voices in my head have been
repeating Hail Marys for quite some time now. Hence, the reason for this
textfile. I thought it best to produce my last will and testament, lest my
family become engaged in neverending legal battles with greedy relatives,
instead of mourning what is undoubtably going to be their greatest loss.
So, here it is. I'll try and make it short and concise.
1. Each of my one hundred and two CDs shall be given to my brother. As the
person who first introduced him to contemporary music, I feel somewhat
responsible for the little teeny bopper he has become. Hopefully, my
death, combined with the soothing chords of Radiohead, the grunge of
Shihad, the humour of Regurgitator and the sheer brilliance of Something
for Kate will restore him to some state of musical sanity.
2. My computer shall go to my friend Thom, who in fact selected all the
components and put together the machine. Constructed specifically to be
three times as good as Thom's box in all respects, it was initially
planned that my monitor measure 51 inches diagonally. Which, as I
joked, was three and a little bit times the length of my shlong... Did I
say 'joked'? Anyway, hopefully the gift I make to Thom of my beloved
tool (computer, gutterbrain!) will help him overcome his grief, and
remind him of the good times, during which we cleaned up vomit and urine
off the floor of cheap hotels, and, uhm... that's about it.
3. I would like for all my other worldly possessions be sold and that the
money, combined with the entire contents of my bank account be used to
buy my high school best friend Adam a new car. I have already promised
him this, so it's no use trying to gloss over this part of my will.
Currently, he drives a grey Japanese shitbox, which whines and groans
like my sister during that time of the month. Hopefully, we'll be able
to replace it with something that has a little bit more grunt.
Something not powered by a lawnmower engine. A man's car. Maybe a
bright red Holden ute. He'd like that.
4. I don't know if this is possible, but I'd like my job at Daimaru to be
given to Billy the Biznatch, to whom CLiT number 8 was dedicated. Billy
the Biznatch needs a job, but of course is too damn lazy and lacking in
wordly experience to be able to find one himself. Even when I'm dead,
it's important that I look after my friends. Who else is going to do it?
5. Lastly, I'd like the rest of my things to be given to my childhood
crush, Hayley. Because quite frankly, I'm still desperately in love
with her.
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( o.o ) (c) Anada e'zine anada334 by AlterEcho o
> ^ < o
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