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'##::::'##:::'#####:::'########: VIVA LA REVOLUCION! CERDO DEL CAPITALISTA!!
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##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #301 !!
#########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !!
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##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "The BIG-ASS Story" !!
##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Various Artists !!
..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 12/3/98 !!
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Each writer was restricted to 5 sentences.
[Mogel]
"I hope... you got fat," Lady Lamina wrote, before she stopped,
thought for a moment, and then tore the letter to shreds. Why couldn't
she adopt that peaceful mentality that her poor, jailed mother had
embraced, and write to the IRS without getting completely infuriated?
Lady Lamina, of course, had never successfully been able to kill herself,
and has been forced to deal with some form of tax collection for the last
759 years of her miserable life. It tortured her a great deal, but there
was nothing she could do about the problem -- she simply would not die.
She had tried everything!
[tRiL0byTe]
The last time she left her whorehouse, her home, three weeks ago,
she had applied to her face and body every last atom of makeup in her
possession. Men everywhere were pouncing upon her ancient body and they
clawed and grabbed for all of her extremely developed assets. But,
damned as Lady Lamina was, none of them would take her miserable, endless
life! But this night, as she flushed out her vagina with her favorite
bidet, she felt alone and depressed. Were her financial woes truly all
she had to live for these days?
[g0ff]
Of course, there was one other thing. Once, she had had a cat,
and it had kept her happy in times of need. Unfortunately, no cat lives
over seven hundred years, even those as full of fortitude as Muffin was.
But he had died, like everyone else she had ever had any closeness with.
There was another choice to consider, though, and that was finding a new
cat to be a part of her life.
[anJee]
Lady Lamina quickly paced through the streets, trying her best to
hop over the various dead bodies and attempting to dodge the freaks and
weirdos who always seemed to pop up in front of her. However, unlike the
last 759 years of her life, something different happened, throwing her
daily routine off-course and disrupting what she had always referred to
as her "pathetic excuse for a life". Not only had Lady Lamina found
herself spread out on the pavement with a few scratches scattered along
her body -- there, resting in front of her yellow and purple colored
eyes -- was a rock... and for the first time in centuries, a smile drew
itself onto her face, as she grabbed the rock and firmly held it in her
hands. When she arrived at home later that day, she sat down and
analyzed the rock... trying to make it talk, but it just wouldnt reply.
She decided it would now be her mission to successfully help the rock
discard it's shyness hoping it would then lead to a very intelligent and
educational discussion.
[DJ Hoad]
Lady Lamina tried for several weeks to rid the rock of it's
shyness. It, being a rock, really had no idea why this woman was shaking
and screaming at it. Severely confused, the rock decided enough was
enough. Lady Lamina gaped as the rock stood firm and gazed her straight
in the eye. The rock said the first thing that came to its mind, "Eat
blue."
[Styx]
Then the rock said the second thing that came to its mind: "Poop."
Lady Lamina was transfixed and followed up on the rock's commands, first
eating her blue suede shoes, all of the blue M&Ms in the cupboard, her
blue shirts and blue pants, her blue bedspread and blue tampons, her
ceramic blue figurines and all of the blueberry pie. Then, recalling the
rock's second command, she pulled down her lace panties, squatted over a
fruitbowl, and muscled out a long blue link from her colon. The rock
shook its head, looking up at her with disdain. "You misunderstand, Lady
Lamina - I said to eat blue poop."
[Toasty]
"But umm... ummm...," ummed Lady Lamina. "I am not coprophilic!"
she shrieked, having finally grabbed onto the high school Sex Education
4 vocabulary word she knew still lurked somewhere in her longterm memory.
She then got caught in a reflective mental tangent, remembering those
classes she took so long ago. How could the public school system expect
to NOT turn out filthy skanky whores like herself when they offered
honors sex ed classes? She stopped pooing and wept for the youth of
America.
[Kreid]
The tragedies of the day... talking rocks, blue poo, and the
constant bleeding from her ears... had driven Lady Lamina into a
terrible fit of depression. And yet, through all the blood and tears,
Lady Lamina experienced a brief moment of clarity; she knew exactly what
she had to do. With the sureness of a woman who has seen God, pissed on
his shoes, and run away with his wallet, she pulled her trusty hangun
from her brassiere, glancing momentarily at the scars on her chest she
had received while being raped by knife-wielding mongols at Ghengis
Khan's 25th birthday party. Then, moments later, while she was still
pondering this old memory, she was moaning in ecstasy from the sensation
of the handgun entering her vagina, centuries old, wrinkled, and
encrusted with chlamydic discharge. That ecstasy was a feeling she had
not felt in at least 4 months, and somehow, there was still something
wonderful in it, something magic, even after so many hundreds of years...
but those thoughts had to be pushed back into her mind as she gripped the
trigger tighter... tighter... tighter...
[AltRocks]
"POP," the gun sounded as it exploded gallons of warm water into
her now satisfied genitals, seeing as it was a Super-Soaker 2453462136
left over from the late 20th century water wars, which she had missed,
being captured by the HOE Freedom Fighters in their last futile attempt
to overthrow the Venezuelan revolutionaries (they made me write that)
while trying to assist her sympathetic friends selling cocaine on the
streets of the capital of Venezuela, which kept her cash flow quite
ample, and aided HOE in it's attempt to rid it's writer's of a life.
After tossing her water gun in the gutter she started down the street,
looking for her next adventure, but she would have no more adventures,
because at that moment, AltRocks arose from the dead and killed the
bitch. He then took over working the whore house, turned it into the
biggest prostitution ring in the history of the world, making him the
grand funk daddy of all pimps. He then remembered his old friend, Ziego,
whome he had a bone to pick with, but Ziego had died years earlier, and
being a simple mortal, could not rise from the dead, as he did, so he
settled for a Playstation, and a copy of Mortal Kombat MCMXVII, which
was quite amazing, cause mortal Kombat got old in 1994. He then began to
think about all the good he could do, but decided it wasn't worth it and
turned abck to the evil ways that spawned him, the evil ways that made
him powerful, the evil ways that brought him back from the dead, and the
evil ways that would fuel his new plan for the world....
[Kaia]
I guess happiness really is a warm gun, because at that point,
drunk on her naughty rollicking fantasy, Lady Lamina's entire body quaked
with the wild spasms of ecstasy, sending glistening jets of organic
secretions, cottage cheese juice, and yellow-pink pus spraying from every
orifice and pore. As Lady Lamina rolled over, crushing the colonies of
lice thriving in her bearskin carpet, she thought of her son Basal and
vowed to masturbate more often, then drifted off into her favorite
dreamland, Billybob's Big Universe of Firearms and Roosters. Basal,
responding to his mother's psychic calling, would have come to lick up
the mess, had he not been consumed earlier that day by the rock. So
instead, the rock came bopping in, dressed like Axl Rose, singing Viking
drinking songs and doing the chicken dance, but for the first time, it
felt a funny, as yet unidentified feeling in the pit of its sediment.
Could it be love?
[Tasha]
Just as soon as the thought had come, the rock quickly dismissed
the feeling as heartburn from the consumption of Basal earlier in the
day. He then rolled over to the wet spot left on the carpet by Lady
Lamina, and swirled his tongue over the entire area, pausing a few times
to pick the shedded pubic hair out of his teeth. Lady Lamina, still
squirming from the afterquakes of her orgasm, grabbed the rock and
slowly slid him all the way inside of her slippery, wrinkled cunt. The
rock, a little pissed that he didn't get to finish the dinner that had
been left for him on the carpet, began licking Lady Lamina's secretions
from his position inside of her cunt. This, of course, sent Lady
Lamina into another violent orgasm, and the poor rock died in a flood of
the orgasmic secretions he had caused.
[SwissPope]
The rock promptly plopped out of Lady Lamina's vagina. Exhausted,
Lady Lamina pulled up her pants, lit up a cigarette, and got out the
vacuum cleaner. She glided the vacuum cleaner over the dirty carpet,
twirling like Mary Poppins, while adult contemporary music from the radio
soothed her soul. When the vacuum cleaner rolled over the rock, there
was a sudden hiss, then a terrible booming noise, and black smoke
emerged. After racing to her filing cabinet, Lady Lamina examined the
General Electric vacuum cleaner's warranty and discovered that it had
been voided due to a very tiny clause that cleared stated "A.2.(iii) This
vacuum cleaner shall not be exposed to granite, pumice, basalt, obsidian,
nor any other igneous, metamorphic, or sedimentary rock exposed to the
fluids secreted from the vagina, penis, or anus unless an industrial or
medical use permit has been granted and arrangements for radioactive
hazardous waste disposal have been made."
[phairgirl]
It was right about then when, oh wait a second, it wasn't right
about then, it was right about.... NOW... when Lady Lamina heard a knock
at the door. Although usually when her sexual gratification had just
completed its home stretch and the vacuuming needed to be done she
wouldn't have answered it, but today, she decided to forgo ancient
customs and cry "Carpe Diem!" as she raced toward the towering doorway.
Flinging the door aside, she gasped as 232 FBI agents gazed out of sheer
horror at her appearance. If only she had known that her beloved rock was
somehow mixed up in the Mafia and that there was a $100,000 contract out
on his head due to the immense amount of pain and heartache he had caused
Don Benito. Staring wearily at the now-sickened agents, Lady Lamina's
thoughts raced to think of some kind of halfway believable story to
explain why their prime suspect in the cannibalistic murders of 8000 tons
of sheetrock wouldn't be available for prosecution.
[Quarex]
Fortunately for Lady Lamina, she re-read the script to the story,
and discovered that all previous mentions of her own sexuality were
placed in error, and should have been instead been references entirely
to her own blase existence, completely free of sex (and proud of it!)
for the last (almost!) 760 years. Her rock, however, was another
story, as it was still very much so dead, but not from any kind of
moronic sexual encounter! This rock was not about to accept any kind
of roody-poo crap from any of the jabronies writing this story, no sir,
the rock took his own damn life by jumping right out of this damn text
file. As for Lady Lamina, who has come so far by being an inept piece
of fuck, there was only one thing left for her to do: strut. Once she
was through strutting, and still realized she was quite fucking alive,
Lady Lamina decided to resort to the most drastic measure of suicide, a
measure so drastic that its very name is only whispered in certain arcane
circles, made up entirely of grand wizards so foul that nary a mortal can
behold them without screaming in fright, aye, indeed, the bedeviled
method of suicide known only as INDIE ROCK.
[Teerts]
completely determined to meet her maker, our good lady made off
for the closest university; there, at one of the prime sources of shitty
igneous musik, she'd find her end. the fedz, so sickened by her
appearance, just stood by barely controlling their urge to vomit (it was
right after lunch after all, i mean, have you ever SEEEN this woman?
ugh!), as the ancient foundation, mascara, blush, and lipstick-soaked
wench (who had begun strutting once more) passed right through the mass
of agents. having tripped in a 16ft deep pot-hole in her 60000ft long
driveway (about 43253ft from her house), lady lamina was very lucky that
she had switched to low-heel shoes back 709 years ago (you know, the
standard age at which old tarts stop wearing heels), otherwise she could
really have been hurt by the accident. she then picked up her broken leg
and placed it gingerly in the 'fifth pocket' of her levi 50000009's and
continued to furiously hop away from the scene; still heading straight
(right through traffic, not giving a shit...she's tried cars before) for
her closest university, isuckshit liberal arts institute. end in phuct
phunnetix; wile hedding four her destinashun, shie bekaim distraktid
(well, she remembered she had founded the same university she was headed
for and that she had disallowed all music programs in the school), sow
she dessidid too stop trinkit stour annd halfe a loock at som naiss
laan (ga-)nomes!
[Aster]
but these gaa-nomes are evil and they killed her and cut her up
into little tiny pieces and ate a nice big lunch of lady-pieces, which
they REALLY enjoyed, since she was ripened with age and all. but little
did they know she was really a poisenous snake who all her life had been
planning to get back at them for killing her mother and father when she
was three, so they all died of this deadly deadly yucky evil poison.
except one gaa-nome, a so evil it could not be killed gaa-nome, a
gaa-nome that proceded to open his mouth and devour the world, until
there was only the island of Bali left. then he decided he needed a
vaction, you know all that hard work of devouring worlds can make you
very vaction-needing, so he went and sat on a beach on Bali's shore,
where he met some nice island people who kept him happy, untill he got
sunburned and shrivled up and fried to death in the sun, leaving only
ashes. then one island person came up and used the ashes to light a
fire, which made him evil too.
[AnonGirl]
This Nouveau-Mauvais island person, Rhicksho, gazed into the Evil
Fire with great malevolence towards his surroundings. He then glared at
the fellow Island People, and decided that he was the new ruler of Bali,
and if someone disobeyed him they would be forced to deal with some
serious ramifications. Bali, which was once a sunny happy place that
spread the word of only Peace and Love, was now an island of corruption,
with sick displays of wickedness where ever one looked: crime, cruelty,
and worst of all, Mentos commercials on giant screens as far as the eye
could see. Still not satisfied with his complete control over the world
now called Rhickshonia, King Rhicksho decided to have some fun and try
his hand at killing innocent newborn babies by batting their heads off
with coconut shells attached to dried palm tree leaves and seeing how far
he could hit one, trying to beat his own record each time. While batting
a young Rhickshonian skull far into the sky, the newborn cranium stopped
in mid-air, completely changed direction, and began flying directly
towards a stunned Rhicksho, with a look of death on its cute little face.
[Obsidian]
Transcending both the age-old perception of time and space and
the need to cook food in chinese woks, Rhicksho quickly burroughed deep
into the ground, catching the smiling death missile in mid flight.
Finally reaching an ancient cavern filled with a shrine to Front 242,
Rhicksho looked around, attempting to gain awareness of his surroundings.
Looking over in the corner, he noticed a woman bearing resemblence to
Lady Lamina sitting indian-style, smoking a clove cigarette with a glow
of enlightenment on her face. Feeling the warmth of her zen, he moved
towards the corner of the room. She turned slowly towards him and began
speaking in a stage whisper, "Excuse me, your fly is unzipped."
[Cstone]
Rhicksho, quickly but conspicuously zipping up his pants, craftily
retorted, "Huh?" The Lamina-woman, casting a weird glance toward
Rhicksho, said, "Your fly was down, moron; you dumb powermongers can take
over a bunch of innocent people, but can you design an intelligent pair
of pants? Of COURSE not!" She threw her cigarette into a stray pile of
dirt and stood up, showing off her pants to Rhicksho. Rhicksho, while
trying to decide whether or not he would make this arrogant bitch scream,
"MY PANTS SUCK!" before he killed her, stood with his mouth open. The
woman, continuing her use of one of her weird glances, screamed instead,
"YOUR PANTS SUCK!"
[Mutter]
It was then that Rhicksho realized that he wasn't wearing pants
(as he had outlawed the wearing of pants a day earlier). "What the fuck
are you talking about, you stinkin whore?!" Rhicksho screamed as he
signalled his evil albino midget sidekick, poo-pee-doo to attack Lamina.
Poo-pee-doo, armed with the magical feces of Rah! quickly defeated the
old woman. "Do you yield, hag? Or do you want another taste of my
poo-pee-doo?!@#" Apon hearing Rhicksho say this both couldn't help but
burst out in laughter which made the albino midget (who was already
oversensitive about his name to begin with) VERY mad...
[Squinky]
Somewhere, across the ocean, through time, near the Swiss Alps, a
young Adolf Hitler, aged 11, plays with his wooden truck by a lake. The
wheels roll over the earth like feet crushing grapes, and in his heart,
he knows true love, free from lust and taint. Mussolini, too, is young,
but sees promise is a new art movement called Futurism, which seems to
embrace much the same that he does, and for that he is willing to
overlook certain eccentricites, the rumored homosexaulity that comes
with all artists, absinthe and opiate dreams. The Emperor Hirohito, fresh
off the strange mists, looks across Tokio, not yet fully conquered by
capitalism and overpopulation, and questions his own godhood, knowing
that he can't be everywhere at once, or even really any single place
forever. Oh yeah, and there's some shit going on about some bitch who's
named Lady Lamina and is immortal and wants to die and has a rock.
[Mooer]
when lady lamina remembered that her real name was TRUDY, she
began to eat the apple pies which she had baked with her own hardened
hands. hands not toughened by sex, penises, juices or gratification,
they were calling her to wrap them in saran wrap so she could moisturize
them with the bottles and oodles of pig fat. but even oprah couldn't
sell those lotions. NO POOP NO SEX NO STUPID REFERENCES, just the
longing she had for her lover, her true life was what motivated her to
get up every morning. nothing was true.
[Belial]
as time went on, trudy realized that she would never see her
lover again and that even she would eventually die, bringing both her
charmed and cursed life to an end. would it make a difference, though?
would she be remembered? with this in mind, trudy packed up all of the
possessions she had, including a tiny crystal unicorn, and left the
village that had been her home for so many years. smiling, and with no
destination in mind, trudy set out on an adventure that would, for good
or for bad, define who she was -- lets the gods do what they want with
her, she was beyond caring.
[Mercuri]
she set out for the land of kraglich, prophecised by her deceased
soothsayer uncle to be the land of oppurtunity. with only the clothes on
her back and an incredibly dildo-like crystal unicorn (which made the
townspeople wonder [and jesus cry]) she set out to make a new name for
herself, she would construct it out of wood and boogers. she labored for
many days and for many nights, she cut down the mighty fir trees of the
forest to carve and mold her new name. when she was down the whole town
stood in awe of what she had created, a new name for herself (made out of
wood). that name was Duncan Pinderhuse.
[PezMonkey]
And that very name, while now her name, was also a house, a small
house, but a house all the same, hollowed out of large log and booger
letters. Duncan climed into her Duncan house and found that someone had
already stocked it with shelves and shelves of books, the first of which
she pulled down was Thoreau's Civil Disobedience and Walden. The second
was Rural Radicals by Catherine Stock. After reading these two books
(which took her about 6 years since all she had learned in school was
sex-ed, even though she had remained devoutly pure since that time), she
erected a fence around the perimeter of her property, stocked up on guns,
ammunition, and honey buns, and called the rock (who wasn't really dead),
Rhicksho, Basal (her un-dead son), Hitler, Mussolini, The Emperor
Hirohito, Snoop Doggy Dogg, and The Notorious B.I.G., and invited them
all over. Once there, they declared to have formed The Kraglich Militia,
and began shooting through the fence at the surrounding gnomes, people,
animals and other creatures.
[Pagenwait]
Meanwhile... the IRS people were having a pleasant day... that
is... they were until they got a letter in the mail. It looked as if it
had been torn apart, then taped back together again and it read, "I
hope... you got fat." The IRS people were offended by this note, and,
being the most intelligent people in the world (they had to take a mensa
test in order to become an IRS person), found out that it had been sent
by a Lady Lemina. Upon looking up her account, they learned she was
over 700 years old, had died, mysteriously came back to life, had an
affair with a wanted criminal, The Rock (you smell what the rock's
cooking? smells like old ladies cunt juices...), had renounced the
throne of England, turned into a snake, poisoned the sacred gaa-nomes,
and changed her name a few times. Unable to now locate her, dead or
alive, they shrugged it off saying, "It's all good."
[Murmur]
Unfortunately, the poor, innocent, shepherded minds of the youth
of the world were quite incapable of understanding what the fuck anybody
was really talking about this entire time. Should such words reach a
theoretical time capsule, the theoretical descendants of these people
would know very little about their famed ancestors except for the
following: they were primarily concerned with oneupmanship, they had
very little concept of what was truly funny and what was really just
horrendously stupid, few of them had mastered their studies in
obscurity (and consequently were banished to hell for failing to learn
how to use their damn apostrophes), and the leader of the entire
civilization was apparently a "Quarex", though little further
information could be gleaned about this individual, excluding
subsequent discovery of cranial X-rays. He does certainly have a
large head. The menagerie of faux-clinquant verbiage represented
reprehensibly herein is most profoundly summarized by employing an
objective observation of the songcraft of one Mr. Ron House, who thus
spake in the twentieth century: "You can't kill stupid." Throughout the
annals of history, indeed, few events could possibly be related that have
been demonstrated to have approached the sheer pointlessness, the utter
imbroglio of putridity, the festering maelstrom of imbalanced,
non-linear, scathingly and scandalously inept written discourse - with
the possible exception of the ubiquitous zen master himself, F. A. Hayek,
in his epochal coming-of-nether-age pseudo-soliloquy-unto-presumed-
-tranquillity and all-around saucy document of dilapidated dogma, _The
Road To Serfdom_ - and in the end we judges of humanity are left holding
a bloody shirt, a reminder neither of the sacrifices to preserve our way
of life nor of the fork in our metaphorical hearts, but merely a fragment
of what may once have been considered to be all that was good and proper
in this changing world, and to that, may we decry, along with our proper
heroes of yesteryore, these simple words: "deth is a four-letter word."
[Quarex]
"Now you have to keep one thing in mind," croaked Old Man
Wrathbucket, "anything you hear a-comin' from the mouth o' that ornery
bastard Murmur is complete pigshit, nothin' but a bunch o' high-falutin'
fancy-boy Ohio ed-u-cated college bullcrap!" With that, Wrathbucket
exploded, causing a chain reaction, setting off the rather timely
demises of Lady Lamina's jailed mother, Lady Lamina's useless cat,
AltRocks (again, good riddance), Aster, Rhicksho, Basal, Hitler,
Mussolini, Emporer Hirohito, Snoop Doggy Dogg, Notorious B.I.G., and
most importantly Aster and her fucking gaa-nomes. "I suppose that is
just about that," mused Lady Lamina, no-selling the Stunner as usual.
"How did I get into this useless mess, again? Oh, yeah, my own
impossible to reach death. . . actually, now that I think about it,
since almost everyone is dead now, I bet I do not even have to pay my
taxes anymore, let alone really need to worry about killing myself."
And with a wink and a smile, Lady Lamina shot back up the chimney, ready
to begin a new life, to protect the future generations of Terakhians
from the menace known as a "Mini E-ZINE EPIC."
:) :) :) :) :) :)
!!========================================================================!!
!! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! #301 - WRITTEN BY V. ARTISTS - 12/3/98 !!