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ooooo ooooo .oooooo. oooooooooooo HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #788
`888' `888' d8P' `Y8b `888' `8
888 888 888 888 888 "Little Johnny Does A Heist"
888ooooo888 888 888 888oooo8
888 888 888 888 888 " by Big Daddy Bill
888 888 `88b d88' 888 o 8/12/99
o888o o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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One fine August afternoon, seventeen year old Johnny Chance was
enjoying a nice evening wallowing in self-misery and the eternal, endless
agony of human suffering by his own free will when he got an brilliant
brain-storm. Suddenly, a calm fell over Johnny. He knew what he had to do.
Johnny lept from his bitterness and confusion and strove to greatness with
one single, solitary thought. He commenced with the preperations shortly
thereafter.
What Johnny needed was to find something to fill the gap in his life,
a strong beam to lean against. He came to the conclusion that if nothing
positive could possibly make his life any happier, he was going to use
negativity to hide the scars.
Throwing on an old dark t-shirt and a pair of ratty jeans, Johnny
crept from his two-bedroom apartment in the midst of the pre-dawn, still
under-cover of the dying dusk. He knew precisely where he was heading, as
thoughts that fired through Johnnys mind were clear and considerably
consise.
When Johnny reached his inevitable destination, his courage had
ultimately sank deep into his belly. The absolute certainty of the
situation was still clear in his eyes, but his motive was questioned.
Johnny stood rigid, starring at his object of determination: an isolated
house located deep in a bluff.
Johnny decided that his life was over no matter which way he went,
good or bad, so he figured that he had 50/50 either way. Johnny chose
darkness. Good choice Johnny.
Johnny ascended the stairway with quickness, hearing the sounds of
nature around him in the lush forest that loomed over the household. When
he reached the outer porch of the home, Johnny quietly pressed the latch on
the screen door and became an intrusion into this house. As he guided his
way into the darkness of the porch, Johnny realized with finality that there
was no turning back. He slipped past the garbage on the front porch and
made his way to the main entrance, the front door. Jiggling the doorknob
with utter silence, Johnny realized that the keepers of the house didn't
lock their front door! And so, Johnny took a step inside.
What Johnny saw were some of the most amazing things any man can ever
witness. Nothing of material value appealed to Johnny, as that was a
secondary objective: get money. What Johnny was really pleased about was
the fact that he now entered, unwantingly, into the lives of a family that
had no idea about his pain or hate. The things he saw were not his things,
never would be. Johnny could see cosmic lines that he had just crossed
snapping around him, awaking a passion he never thought he could harvest.
Johnny realized that the entire universe was now completely under his every
whim. What Johnny knew then was the situation at hand: the deafening
pulsing in his head from his steady, hard heart-beat; the sweat dewing on
the palms of his hands; the lightness deep in the bowels of his body; the
pure adrenaline pumping rhythmically through his veins with every sound beat
of his heart. That was the universe.
Johnny came down from his revere just as he realized that he was also
pushing onto lawlessness here, that men with guns could soon be knocking at
the door he just entered. Johnny turned to his right and started up the
first staircase, eyeing the paintings and firearm propaganda mounted on the
walls. Johnny also noted the large, open-mouth bass starring directly into
his soul that was also located on the wall. Fuck the fish, Johnny, you've
got better things to do.
Johnny finished his climb up the strangers stairway to enter into a
small hallway turning right, and holding five doors. Johnny didn't want to
make this intrusion very long, so he choose the one closest to him: the left
door.
As Johnny opened the door to the Master bedroom, he wondered breifly
if there was going to be anyone disturbing his exploration into the vast
unknown. Johnny didn't care; they were in his environment now because
Johnny *made* it his environment. That's the power one man can hold, if he
can hold it right.
As Johnny took a step into the sleeping quaters of his newly found
enemies, he realized with a smug smile that no one would indeed be bothering
him this morning. The large waterbed resting directly in the center of the
room was gratifyingly empty, the sheets rumpled into a corner of the watery
mattress. Johnny took a few more steps into the now well-lit room, first
opening the closet of his experiment. What Johnny saw kind of took him by
surprise.
Johnny reached down with a nervous hand, and lifted before his eyes a
chrome, shiny new .44 revolver. He started opening up boxes in the closet,
each one of them holding at least 2-3 expensive, effective weapons of
destruction! Finally, the pay-off Johnny.
Stuffing the instruments into his pockets and the waist band of his
jeans, Johnny stood and scoured the upper shelf of the closet he peered
into. And yet another surprise: ammunition.
Now your loaded, Johnny.
Snagging the full, clinking boxes of bullets and shells from the
shelf, Johnny cradled them in his arms as he bounded down the stairs two at
a time. His unkempt hair flowed behind him in a wild fashion, as he
entertained a look of sheer wickedness upon his thin lips.
He kept laughing internally at the thoughts that exploded into his
mind. What was so funny was that now, the outcast, the rebel, the scape-
goat, the hated was armed... and probably very dangerous. How they loved to
squash his fantasies, his self-contained indulges. How they enjoyed ripping
pieces of him off, cackling while they held his ego in front of him,
caressing it with the flames of lighters. How they laughed uproarously when
Johnny was rejected, bricked endlessly by the accusors of depression and
anxiety. They all thought they knew, that they had it all figured out.
They knew the sun dawned in the West, and set in the East and they assumed
that nobody had control. Now Johnny had control. Johnny had control of
everything.
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[ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #788 - BY: BIG DADDY BILL - 8/12/99 ]