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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #675
`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8
888 888 888 888 888 "Those Darn V-1 Rockets"
888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8
888 888 888 888 888 " by AnonGirl
888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 6/9/99
o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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I was walking by myself when I noticed an elderly woman carrying six
plastic grocery bags, three in each arthritic hand. I decided to ask her if
she needed any help, but she answered my question by calling me a punk-
teenager, and that she was fine. It was a bit cliche' to ask, I know, but I
really just wanted to help. Had it been a forty year old woman, I wouldn't
have asked. Had it been a forty year old woman with arthritis, I would
have. Then again, I shouldn't have assumed that her disfigured hands were
arthritis-ridden, but you know. I didn't know what made me come off as a
punk-teenager, either. Was it my knee-length, black woolen coat, my oddly-
colored running shoes, or the fact that I have more than one earring in each
ear?
When I got home, I chose to watch some television before making
dinner. The TV turned onto a commercial for a local restaurant. The mascot
was an animated chicken, dancing blissfully around the buffet, telling me
that kids under 12 eat for free at their restaurant. Scenes of happy
parents and children and relatives and friends munching on chicken legs,
chicken breast, whole chickens, and chicken noodle soup. The commercial
that followed the chicken ad was for Shake 'N Bake. Two pigs in a pig pen
were discussing how Shake 'N Bake now made a mix for pork chops. The
worried pigs made "moo" sounds, trying to throw off the farmers that would
send them to the slaughterhouse. I didn't know if I was the only person on
the planet who thought those two commercials were repulsive, so I asked my
sister. She giggled, and said that it's cute seeing animals that talk, like
in "Babe". I ended that discussion and made myself a hamburger. It's not
like I was going to resort to vegetarianism because of two commercials.
So there I was, lying in bed, hoping that a V-1 rocket wouldn't run
out of gas over my house tonight, when-
No, that's not how it went at all. I went to sleep that night
without any worries that dealt with life and/or death.
I went to the grocery store a few days later to buy supper. My
grandmother refused to pay for anything relating to me until I paid her the
sixty dollars I owed on the phone bill. I picked up a box of Betty Crocker
Butter 'N Herb mashed potatoes, broccoli, and a box of Kraft Deluxe Macaroni
& Cheese. I was living it up tonight; no cheap Kraft Dinner for me. I also
picked up a bottle of water. When the French girl at the cash register ran
up my stuff, she gave me a rather surprised look when she noticed I was
paying with my ATM card. I didn't really know why, there were signs in
French everywhere that said the ATM purchase limit was five dollars. The
character '5' is the same in English and in French. The total had come to
$8.74. She asked me if I wanted to withdraw any extra cash, which I didn't.
The look she gave me could've killed a small child. I didn't realize then
how wrong of me if was to charge my $8.74 purchase with my ATM card when the
minimum charge was $5. That was very uncalled for.
One day soon after the ATM fiasco, I went into a small cafe', got a
cup of tea, and sat town to read a free local paper. It was more of an
old-persons' cafe'. It wasn't chic or trendy. The woman who served me wore
a pink polyster dress and a white apron. I was thankful her caked-on
make-up didn't fall off into my tea, for it might've caused a chemical
erruption. Two police officers approached me while I sat on the stool and
drank my tea. I was somewhat worried as to why, however I wasn't committing
any crimes that day, so I thought I was safe. The officer asked me how much
I'd paid for my cup of tea, which I replied "ninety-nine cents". One of
them said I couldn't get much for a buck these days, and I agreed. The
other officer cheerfully chimed in that I could make a fifteen minute
phonecall across Canada for a buck, if I dialed 10-10-321. The woman who
worked the cash felt the need to join in, for she could not believe that
anyone could make a fifteen minute phonecall across Canada for a buck. The
officer then explained that with 10-10-321, any call under fifteen minutes
is just a buck, then ten cents a minute for each additional minute. We all
laughed contently, and went our own ways.
That night I listened as the motor-like sound of the V-1 rockets
passed over my town. The noises grew louder, but that was normal as they
flew over the house. The buzz would hopefully deteriorate soon. Sadly for
us, though, the noise suddenly died, right over my house.
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #675 - WRITTEN BY: ANONGIRL - 6/9/99 ]