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s$
$ .d""b. .d""b. HOE E'ZINE #1070
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$ $ $ $ $ss$ "History and Dem Black Boots"
$ $ $ $ $ by, Rhea
$ $ $ $ $ $ 05/01/00
[-- $ $ $ $ $ $ -- ------------------------------------------- --]
$ $ "TssT" "TssT"
Black dem boots and make dem shine, good boy, and a good boy.
Number One was a good Number One. When Number One came of age, Number
One's momma said there'd be days like these.
There'd be days like these, momma said. Momma said! Momma said!
And in reply Number One looked up from blacking dem boots and
making dem shine, and said, "Ohhhh momma... can this REALLY be the END?"
Shut up, she said. Some things never end.
"Like history?"
Maybe... she said.
But then, she was ugly. Couldn't forget that.
Number One opened Number One's book to find out.
***************************************************************************
Number One: Shadows on the wall. Quiet. A cave? Maybe, but there's
no fire here. And without fire, the shadows are so
dim. So dim...so dim they're shapeless.Yeah, that's
right, Plato, you heard me. Shapeless! Shapeless just
like you and all the rest of history. I don't trust
you, Plato. You see, here's my Great Idea all about it:
philosophers innately begin with "p" and "h" and, as I
stare at this wall, some dank, dusty phobia - just
another irrational ph34r? -- inside me tells me to see
past your phat phonetics and to realize that you're all
just philandering phonies! So I don't think this will
work out. I want you to leave now. Let me rest in
peace! R.I.P that's me.
The only thing I regret is that "fuck you" isn't "phuck
you" because that would have phucking raised my
cleverness in the above paragraph by at least 50
points, don't you agree?
Plato: Despite that annoying monologue, I'm not phased. So
you're not impressed with my phlegm... so what? How
about just a strictly platonic relationship, then?
What do you say, Number One?
Number One: Hey! What are you talking about! I'm not Number One!
You're horribly mistaken! I'm not Number One. I'm not
Number One. Look, watch me put on this scarf. This is
Number Two's scarf!
--PoOf!--
--PoOf!--
Number Two: There. Wait! Plato disappeared in a PoOf just as I
appeared in one! Oh well. All a bunch of shit, anyway.
My scarf is pretty. Pretty pretty pretty pretty. Five
pretty's make me... Pretty, too!
--PoOf!--
Pretty: Me and you, Number Two. This is love, Number Two, I
know it. I was nothing before you. I saw love in your
eyes, and you gave me life. I was nothing before you!
Empty! Unwhole! Nothing!
Number Two: I know. Me too.
Pretty: "Me too?"
Number Two: I love you.
Pretty: Good. Okay, now, let me tell you a secret: I know why
the Greek and Roman gods fell. It had nothing to do
with what you think. Nothing ever does!
Number Two: Did it have to do with our - I mean my -- I mean your
-- pretty scarf?
Pretty: Yes! Aphrodite saw me wearing my scarf and died of
jealousy. Then Zeus died of grief, and then all of
Olympus died with him. It's the truth. See! Look!
--PoOf!--
The Truth: I am the truth! Look at me!
Number Two: So _that's_ what the truth is. I know it was in me
somewhere.
The Truth: Shut up. It wasn't. The truth is... that there is no
truth!
--PoOf!--
Number Two: Gone in a PoOf! First Plato, then The Truth. What a
sad day this is.
--PoOf!--
Sad Day: I agree.
Pretty: Think how much sadder it'd be without me! Lalala! I
feel Pretty... oh, so Pretty... I feel Pretty and Witty
and Gay!
--PoOf!--
Gay: Pretty, you fool! That's not your song! That's Natalie
Wood's song, in her brilliant role as a modern Juliet.
She was made-up wonderfully to be a beautiful P.R. You
could barely tell she was White!
Witty: She was a P.R. Juliet? How multi-cultural. Hahahahaha!
Gay: Yes. Her make-up was sublime.
--PoOf!--
Witty: Hahahahaha! Of course it was. There's sublime now, in a
PoOf, of course! How cliche. And Shakespeare's dust and
bones. Hahaha!
Sublime: Witty, it wasn't multi-cultural. And it wasn't
sublime---
--PoOf!--
Number Two: Oh no! Another one gone! Oh no, oh, oh, no, oh, tears,
tears, woe, woe!! Why oh why did Sublime negate himself
like that? Why? Oh, Why! Oh, woe! Woe is me!
--PoOf!--
Woe: Woe are we.
Number Two: Nothing will ever be Sublime again.
Witty: Except the band! Hahahahaha!
Gay: I still loved Natalie Wood's make-up. Her role will go
down in history.
Witty: ...history?
Number Two: I thought it was rather stupid, myself.
--PoOf!--
Stupid: My existance is strange. After a PoOf, here I am. But
why am I here?
Witty: Because Number Two is stupid, of course.
Stupid: What? I don't understand!
Witty: Just another example of the white man's stupidity...
hahaha!
***************************************************************************
Number One was making the corners of the page dirty. Black. Number
One forgot to wipe all the shoe polish off his hands when he was blacking
dem boots and making dem shine! Silly Number One!
But still Number One marched on. Number One read on!
Yes, after a brief delay, Number One was back. Number One had
said,"I shall return!" and Number One was faithful to the history-making
words just like any good history student should be, and Number One
returned. Number One returned like Arnold Schwartzenegger with a Big Gun
and a Red-White-And-Blue bandana. So powerful. Strong. Those Nips died
hard, man! Just like any good enemy should.
Meanwhile, back in History's other pages, free from shoepolish,
things were as gray-and-white as ever. Grandmother was sitting on her
chair on the wooden porch, rocking back and forth. Acres and acres of
good ol' red-blooded American farm-land (bleeding bleeding all over!
bleeding all over the sky, seeping into the red sunset, seeping bleeding
seeping blee--just SCREAMING for a BANDAID but...)
No. Not in this book. Somethings never end, said momma, and momma
knew best.
"A little salt will make that feel much better!" said Granny,
holding up a box of "Good Ol' Days" salt proudly. She grinned a big,
toothless grin at the camera.
And now, at this, Number One really read on. It was a lie before,
but not anymore.
***************************************************************************
Camera: Beautiful, just beautiful!
Witty: You call that beautiful?!
Stupid: Where did the camera come from? What about the PoOf?
There was no PoOf for the camera! I don't understand.
Camera: I'm always here, stupid. History has to be recorded,
stupid.
Pretty: You have to admit, Number Two - it was very pretty.
Witty: No, Number Two! Don't listen! It wasn't!
Number Two: I don't know what to think. I'm sorry!
--PoOf!--
Sorry: Maybe this will all make sense to us the second time
through.
Stupid: What?
Camera: Shut up already! This is where the mood is set. This is
where the mood is set. This where the.. Number Two sees
shadows on the wall. Quiet. A cave? No, an island. The
wall, the one with the dim shadows, is... a barrier.
Gray. There are moans... shots... screams... blood...
seeping everywhere...
Number Two: Mariaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
I just met a girl named Mariaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
And suddenly I've found
How wonderful a sound can beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Pretty: I'm not Maria. I'm pretty.
Number Two: Don't spoil the song, love. It's my turn to sing. You
had yours.
Sorry: Sorry.
Camera: The Sharks and the Jets were fighting again. Inner-city
hoodlums, just dancing around and snapping in rhythm...
Number Two was appalled. "I must tell Number One about
the sorry state of our nation immediately!" thought
Number Two. "But I can't see Number One anywhere, with
this scarf on!"
***************************************************************************
History laughed. History knew. History knew!
***************************************************************************
Stupid: I ain't never gonna get smarter. I ain't never gonna get
smarter!
Camera: Against the wall on this island, shadowless, still, a
girl said to Number Two quietly, "If my addiction was a
person, I'd kill him."
Number Two patted her shoulder in sympathy.
The girl continued, without acknowledging this sorry
excuse for sympathy coming from Number Two, who was
just a sorry excuse for a person. History knew. History
knew! The girl said, "It's not that I want him to die,
but that I don't want him to love."
Number Two blinked. "Love? Don't you mean live? It's not
that you want him to die, but you don't want him to
lIve?"
The girl looked up vaguely. "Oh, right, right. I meant
live."
Witty: What a difference an I makes!
Number Two: What a difference I make!
Woe: Woe are we.
Woe are we!
Stupid: Why?
Witty: Can't you see? It's right there, stupid!
Camera: The Sharks and the Jets were tearing the true love
between Pretty and Number Two apart with their hate and
rage. The war raged on, spreading like the plague across
little islands all over the Pacific. Death was coming.
Death was coming! Pretty and Number Two didn't know
what to do.
Pretty: I love you I hate you I love you I hate you I want you
I love you I hate you I need you I love you I hate you.
Number Two: You're indecisive.
--PoOf!--
Indecisive: No, I'm pretty.
--PoOf!--
Pretty: See?
Number Two: Yes.
Camera: I hope they have sex soon.
Number Two: But there's a war going on!
Camera: All the more reason to cop-cop-copulate.
Witty: Yeah! Hahahaha!
Gay: Yes.
Stupid: Yes!!
Sad Day: Yeah.
Sorry: Uh-huh.
Pretty: Okay.
***************************************************************************
Granny was dying. Everyone knew it. She smiled her big toothless
grins and sang and rocked in her chair but she was dying.
Soon she'd be dead.
Number One knew the Americans would win but Number One read on,
anyway. But Number One thought about closing the book eventually...
***************************************************************************
Camera: So then all the dancers gathered in some strange set and
fought. They had knives that glinted silver-white in the
starry light of the lovers`eyes. Blood started seeping
everywhere.
Sad Day: What a sad day this is!
Woe: Woe are we.
Number Two: I was Number One once.
Pretty: I was nothing without you, Number Two.
Number Two: Yes, this is love!
Camera: People were dying. The battle raged on. The blood seeped
into the Pacific, and floated to all the islands blessed
by the second Great War to make it into this history
book.
Stupid: Wait... this is a history book?
All: Yes, stupid!
Camera: ... Seeping everywhere... seeping seeping seeping...
Number Two and Pretty ran around frantically, not
knowing what to do, except have sex.
Stupid: We're history?
***************************************************************************
Number One began closing the book. Number One hated predictable
endings.