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)) ((
// "Wellbutrin and Zyban" \\
(( 18/10/03 anada524 ))
\) (/
Sometimes, the only help comes in the form of a little pill.
--Gloomchen.
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
TABLE OF CONTENTS
"Orally Disintegrating Tablets" by HapyHzrd .........................line 35
"The Princess and The Frog" by X-tabai ..............................line 49
"Movement" by Phelign ...............................................line 98
"Checking Out" by Airman Opus ......................................line 141
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
"Orally Disintegrating Tablets"
by HapyHzrd - hapyhzrd@hotmail.com
It only makes sense on the sleeve of another eve.
To go out on a limb to pretend, and believe what seems hard to see.
When the smoke clears, the only thing I can hear is the beat of a drum for a
destiny. I know it's there for me.
I push my way up in line, in front of others of my kind, impatient for the
screams that lay buried in my dreams. Afterall, it's never weeping if
it's only when you're sleeping.
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
"The Princess and The Frog"
by X-tabai - x-tabai@yahoo.com
There was a girl with a rich daddy who spoiled her bought her clothes
cell phones friends everything she ever wanted. One day he bought her a
bright new red convertible with leather interior a bobbing head dog on the
dashboard that she loved more than homework until it drove into a lake. She
might have been responsible only she was too busy drinking at the time to be
worrying about steering or braking, so clearly it was the fault of the car.
She dripped on the side of the lake watched her bright red convertible wave
its frantic tail light but she could do nothing except scream point cry and
then. He came.
He was short ugly looked mostly like a frog but he said he could save
her car if she promised to take him home with her. She said she would do
anything poof there was a tow truck and her car wasn't quite so shiny or
red. But it was hers the mechanic fixed it up right as rain and she drove
off left her savior on the roadside with only a check and a handshake.
The next day her daddy came back from a business trip the doorbell
rang the maid answered and there he was. The mechanic. He was fat sweaty
smelled like wet dirt and the girl stopped walking down the stairs but he
had already seen her. She choked on air.
She told her daddy he laughed said she should go out for dinner with
the mechanic if only once because it was the right thing to do. They went
out she had a terrible time really he was repulsive nothing like the boys
she usually dated. She told him he was very nice but she didn't think it
would work out he asked her to marry him she said let me out of the car so
he stopped and she called a cab.
He stood outside her window every night for a week sometimes he threw
pebbles at her she tried to sleep but he was in her eyelids. Finally one
day he climbed her trellis waited in her closet watched her undress go to
bed and then. He slowly stepped out so softly caressed her hair she
screamed reached under her pillow new gun barking like a guard dog. She
shot him in the head. Her light blue walls and cream carpet cringed at the
sudden mess she shrieked wailed until the police the paramedics came gave
her a sedative. And she slept. And she dreamed.
The mechanic was a frog she was a princess she shot him he turned
into a handsome prince now she wanted him and for some reason he still
wanted her too. And she slept. And she dreamed. And she shuddered.
The end.
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
"Movement"
by Phelign - phelign@hotmail.com
The rhythmic offbeat of your flip flop backhanding satan's roof, in
front of my house, in the season just before the hottest time of year - it
moves me when i sit by myself every day, eating everything in the same
order. Miraculous that the same food never tastes the same twice in a row,
but that would be the excitement of a dreary life spent with a net
restraining your crusty upper deck protein strands.
It gives me indigestion, the second you walk past me. The moment
after you leave is morning breath. Always, you drag your left foot so that
the closet of your room is filled only with right flip flops. You won't
throw it away, and you take it for granted.
The opposite sex is your right flip flop. In the seconds between
your speech walking occurs. It is inappropriate for you to run. You bitch
about the clothing you ritualistically buy - it is cheap - it is small - you
would not buy it if it didn't fit - you would not eat if it didn't fit.
You do not work for your money. I do not work for my money, but I
never spend my money on anything. Your purse contains seven unique strains
of lip balm. It is used to sterilize your mouth. The fake wetness spreads
like an oil spill across your vast, worthless lips.
A sock has not graced your foot since ice left the ground. Your ass
says angel. You never shave in the presence of other people; your legs do
not grow hair. In the space of 1.5 seconds, between breaths, a small cog
turns precisely once inside your head. Upon the termination of the
succeeding breath, that same cog shudders back into its original position.
In the past two weeks, I've stepped in five pieces of your gum.
Every 100 million years it is probably the earth will be hit with
significant gamma and cosmic radiation - enough to destroy everything on the
planet, utterly.
Chevre cheese, goat cheese, comes in a variety treated with alcohol.
Cheese shots are improbable because of the puke factor.
>(o.o)< `,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`,`, >(o.o)<
"Checking Out"
by Airman Opus - snoonan@acm.org
on a unseasonably chilly night, you've checked into a hotel downtown.
forty stories up, your window looks out on the mirrored office tower across
the street. on said street, people, cars, bicycles, dogs, cats, mice, and
the occasional skateboarder move back and forth to a pulse that you cannot
seem to see or feel.
you open the window, having managed to pry your way through the lock
that kept it shut. the cool breeze blows in now, billowing the curtains
outside. you wait a minute, wondering why nothing happens... no alarms go
off. the heat in the room kicks on, casually, trying to overcome the cool
air from outside. you feel disappointed.
climbing onto the sill, you let your feet dangle. in the mirrored
glass windows across the street, you can see yourself reflected in the light
of the city at night, the wind blowing through the canyon of the street
chills you to the bone. muted noises come slowly up from the street, and
then everything is silent as you push yourself off from the ledge... and
then everything is dark.
on the street, people gather in a circle, looking at the mess on the
sidewalk. cellphones appear (don't they always) as people do the right
thing and call 911. traffic stops. people stand looking up, shaking their
heads. was it an accident? was it a... suicide? oh, horrors. the wailing
of an ambulance siren, sounding a little silly in its needless urgency,
fires up from a few blocks away.
on the desk in the hotel room, next to the lamp, is a room key. a
sign on the desk tells present and future occupants that upon checking out,
please leave the key on the desk, turn off all the lights, close the room
door, and please stay with us again soon. a suitcase, packed with many
things that were once important, sits motionless on the edge of the bed.
forty stories below, in the dark alley behind the hotel, an unmarked
door opens. into the chilly night steps a lone figure, pulling his collar
up against the chill. several people run past, heading for the street out
front to see what happened. taking the steps to the alley slowly, he looks
to the left, and then to the right. taking deliberate steps, he takes the
left path, turning the corner and disappearing at the end of the alley.
the wind blows some leaves and a long forgotten newspaper in circles
down the alley. as the leaves and newspaper settle to the ground, the alley
is silent again.
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/ ||| (c) 2003 Anada E'zine www.anada.net * Anada is cat-friendly.
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