💾 Archived View for gemini.spam.works › mirrors › textfiles › magazines › UXU › uxu-163.txt captured on 2022-06-12 at 15:04:19.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
### ###
### ###
### #### ### ### ### ####
### ### ##### ### ###
### ### ### ### ###
### ### ##### ### ###
########## ### ### ##########
### ###
### ###
Underground eXperts United
Presents...
####### ## ## ####### # # #### ####### #######
## ## ## ## ##### ## ## # ##
#### ## ## #### # # ## ####### ####
## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## # ##
## ## ####### ####### # # ###### ####### #######
[ Bob - The Serial Killer ] [ By The GNN ]
____________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________
"BOB - THE SERIAL KILLER"
by THE GNN/DualCrew-Shining/uXu
Dedicated to Cult of the Dead Cow.
He he he...
Knife? No... too much blood. Piano wire? No, no, not this time. Gun?
Yes! Gun! Bob carefully opened his jacket and pulled out his lovely
automatic pistol, which was loaded with drilled nine millimeter bullets.
He looked at the dark street. A stocky man walked right towards him,
unaware of Bobs presence in the shadows. There was no lamp-posts on this
small street which made it to an excellent place for a kill. "Yes, yes,
yes, yes...", Bob whispered to himself as the man approached him with heavy
steps. This was going to be fun. The moon was full and Bob wondered what
the papers would write about him tomorrow. "The serial killer strikes
again!". "Midnight terror!". "Who is the madman on our streets?". No...
too ordinary. Maybe something like... uhm.. "He kills for sexual
pleasure!". Bleurk! How incredible ridiculous! Bob wondered if he would
ever get caught, but quickly denied it to himself. Caught? He? No way...
he was too smart for the police men. By the way, why should they hunt him?
Everybody likes to kill. Ok, not everybody kills lonely humans in the
middle of the night. But some do, and whatthehell was wrong with that?
Yeah, even Bob knew it was not a really sane hobby but anyway... it was
fun. He had to exercise in some way! The stocky man had now passed him
with two steps and Bob knew it was time to rock and roll. He quickly
stepped out of the shadows, raised the gun and pointed it at the head of
the stocky man. The man continued walking, still unaware of the Death
behind him. Bob walked after him with the gun in his hand, smiling and
feeling how his dick came to life. After a few steps Bob loudly cleared
his throat. This was the most fun part. The man would hear something
behind him, turn around, see Bob, piss in his pants, pray for mercy etc
etc... and then Bob would pull the trigger and feel the magic feeling of
creation! Wow!
Yes! The man turned around! Bob thought that God was really nice to him
this night since the man was not deaf. Bob steadied the grip of his gun
and... and... now wait a minute! What the...
Bob suddenly found himself staring into the barrel of a bigger gun than
he had. The stocky man had obviously drawn his own gun and now the shitty
piece of metal was pointed at Bob!
The stocky man had a red face and a rather short hair cut. Bob did not
really know what to do. If he pulled the trigger, the stocky man would
probably do that too. Fortunately, the stocky man probably knew that if he
pulled the trigger, Bob would do that too.
This was embarrassing! This had not happened before! Bob decided to try
out some social engineering.
- Cough... Good evening, sir! Bob said with a jolly voice. Nice night
tonight, eh? I see you own a... uhm... (oh shit) forty-four Magnum!
Nice weapon! I would like to have one myself! They are excellent for
ki... murd... hunting! I MEAN PERSONAL DEFENCE! Yes! Defence!
Defence...
The stocky man looked puzzled.
- Good evening, the man said. Yes, very nice night tonight! I see you
are a serial ki... ahem... a man interested in guns yourself! What kind
of gun is that? Looks like a Berretta to me... is it?
Bob lowered his gun and showed it to the man who leaned forward and
examined it.
- No, said Bob. It is a Taurus actually. Very good quality!
- Oh! How nice!
The stocky man showed Bob his Magnum and explained:
- This one is great! You do not know what this gun can do to a head...
cough... I mean a moose! Moose...
Suddenly both of them quickly raised their guns and pointed them at each
other again.
- Oh sorry! Bob said. I thought you were on your way to...
- Uhm... sorry! I also thought that you...
They stood in the same position for about twenty seconds. Bob felt
tired. This was not was he had expected.
- So... what do you work with? Bob asked his new friend.
The stocky man smiled and said - I am into entertainment business!
- How fun! Me too! Bob replied. What kind of entertainment?
- Well, the stocky man said without lowering his gun, I... I usually...
well... I have this gun and... some nights I walk out and... you know...
bom bom?
Bob felt depressed.
- Me too, he said. Bom bom! Scream, scream... Actually you are on my
personal hunting fields now...
The stocky man placed his Magnum in his shoulder holster. Bob did the
same.
- Oh sorry! the man said and looked embarrassed. I did not know! What
do you call yourself?
- 'Cool Psycho', Bob said and revealed a slight pride. Nine killings!
- Never heard about.
- What?!
- Sorry.
Bob suddenly wanted to kill this clown, who insulted him with bullshit.
But he managed to calm down.
- Never heard of, huh? They write about me all the time! Who are you
then? 'Son of son of Sam'? Ha ha. Or maybe you are 'Killer Clown II'?
That would fit you perfectly! Magnum... crap!
The stocky man shook his head.
- No, no! I am 'The ghost of Elvis Presley'.
- WHAT? That was the most fucking stupidest name I have ever heard!
The stocky man, who claimed to be Elvis, was clearly annoyed with Bob.
- Oh? Stupid, eh? Then what the fuck is a 'Cool Psycho' then? Some
rap-artist that has gone insane or what? I am so cool, I am so psycho,
yeah, yeah, yeah, the Elvis man rapped.
- Get off my street! Bob screamed.
The stocky man turned around and started to walk away.
- With pleasure, you amateur! the man screamed back to Bob.
Bob could feel the anger boil inside him. Amateur? Him? Bob? Cool
Psycho? Was nine killings the work of an amateur? Jerk! Fag! Fucking
lame Magnum-homosexual!
When the stocky man had disappeared Bob quickly showed the finger before
he went back to the shadows. He mumbled naughty words and said 'fuck you'
to God a couple of times before he... wow... heard steps again! Bob
looked around. Yes! Some teenager was going his way. Bob pulled out his
Taurus and got ready for killing. This time he was not going to make the
same mistake. When the kid was two metres in front of him, Bob jumped out
from the shadows and screamed - Yiiieaah! Get ready to be killed by the
most motherfucking-ultra-cool-bad-ass motherfucker you have ever seen!
Cool Psycho! Me! Nine killings! You will be the celebrated tenth
killing!
Bob pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. A vision of his bullets,
placed on his table in the kitchen, but not placed in the magazine of the
gun swept through his brain.
- FUCK! FUCKFUCKFUCK! Bob cried. THIS WAS THE FUCKING WORST NIGHT I
HAVE EVER EXPERIENCED!
The teenager just looked at Bob.
- WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT?! HAVE YOU NEVER SEEN A WORKING MASS-MURDERER
BEFORE YOU LITTLE PRICK!?
- No, I actually have not... the teenager replied with a weak voice.
- WELL THEN, TAKE A GOOD LOOK!
Bob fell down on his knees and started to cry.
- Is that how you work? the teenager asked.
- SHUT UP!
The teenager searched for something in his pockets. After a while he
said "Ah!" and brought up a computer diskette. Bob looked up.
The teenager showed the diskette to Bob.
- Cheer up! Look at this! This is a diskette...
- DO YOU THINK I AM BLIND?!
- ... and it is loaded with great text files from Underground eXperts
United! Look, you can take it! You can kill me some other day instead!
Bob took the diskette. The teenager ran away as fast as he could. Bob
stood up and examined the diskette, holding it hard with both hands.
- Underground eXperts United?
Then he violently threw the diskette in a wall. Plastic and small pieces
of metal fell to the street. Bob fell to his knees again and screamed in
agony.
- I DO NOT WANT THAT SHIT! I WANT CULT OF THE DEAD COW! UAAAAH!
Here ends the story about Bob, the most bad-ass-motherfucking-cool serial
killer ever.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Seven megacool years of cDc!
But this board is uXu's: THE STASH +46-13-READINDEX!
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
Bing bing bong bong woaaaah!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
uXu #163 Underground eXperts United 1994 uXu #163
Call SOLSBURY HILL -> +1-301-428-8317
---------------------------------------------------------------------------