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Anarchy inc. ...presents...
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THOMPSON & ACKERET:
Trashing
Story idea by: Havoc The Chaos
Written by : The Daredevil (1/85)
Chapter one: The Coming of Eric
--------------------------------
It had been a month since Eric C. Thompson had bought his TI computer, and he
had finally, after months of searching, found this unique little key known as
the "POWER" key. He had also picked up several other intresting items at
K-Mart, when he last went. Somebody had announced over the intercom that
everything in the store was free, so naturally, he helped himself. He had a
little modem, that attached to the joystick port of the TI, and a 12 collumn
printer, as well as a second casette drive. This made him rather happy, but he
couldn't understand why his "SPACE INVADERS" tape wouldn't play...All it
provided was a screeching sound, like the sound that a gerbil would make in a
veg-o-matic, but he found it entertaining neverless, and had been listening to
it all evening.
Intrestingly enough, Eric had been reading old copies of "Newsweek", and had
found that these neat little things called "BBS's" existed. He decided that he
would examine one of these, and see how they work. Besides, he wanted to meet
this "Wildhack" chap. So, his first BBS was known as the Twilight Zone. Thus:
THE TWILIGHT ZONE IS A PLACE. IT'S
THAT FIFTH DIMENSION WHERE IMAGINATION
RULES AND THE ORDINAY LAWS OF THE
UNIVERSE NO LONGER APPLY.
THE TWILIGHT ZONE IS ALSO A STATE OF
MIND--THAT MIST-SHROUDED AREA BETWEEN
REALITY AND DREAM WHERE HOPE STRUGGLES
ETERNALLY WITH HORROR.
ENTER PASSWORD OR TYPE THE WORD : NEW
-::=>
Eric was perplexed. He decided to try a few passwords. "SWORDFISH" didn't
work, and neither did "JOSHUA". So, he sighed, turned up Space Invaders on his
stereo, and typed "NEW". The BBS greeted him with a happy little message,
saying how happy the system operator was to have him on there, and such. In
reality, the sysop didn't want any new users, but he had decided to be friendly.
Eric entered his name, phone number, and his birthdate, even though the system
didn't ask for it. He smiled.
After reading through several messages, he decided to send this "E-Mail" to
people, and ask them why their parents named them things like "Surf Rat", "A
Modem User", and such. Seeing Princess Leia up there excited him, but he was
disapointed when he couldn't find R2D2 in the user log. Finally, he came upon a
name in which he had found familar. "Matt Ackeret" it read. The message that
it was in was talking about leaving hanging quotes in mid-air. Eric decided
that this person was an intellectual, and made a mental note to send him some
mail. Suddenly, some words came across the screen, noting that the system
operator had broken into chat. Eric's eyes widened.
Hi there, you must be a new user. Need any help?
WAIT!! YOU CAN'T BE ROD SERLING! YOU'RE DEAD!
Rod quickly broke out of chat mode, and swore not to ever mix drinks again.
He wandered off, and fell down on his waterbed, trying to piece this fool on his
system together in his mind. He gave up, wandered out of the room, and decided
to see if the donut stains were off his car yet.
Eric made another mental note that the system operator was either rather rude,
or he really had just died. "Heavens." he muttered. So, he sent a letter to
Matt Ackeret, which stated that he wanted to meet this person, because it seemed
that he was the only one with a "normal" name on the system.
Chapter two : Matt Ackeret enters
---------------------------------
Matt had been getting these annoying crank calls most of the morning. People
were calling up, and giving him high pitched whistles. He had blown whistles
back, using a whistle he found in a box of Capt. Crunch. He decided he was
hungry, but found that he wasn't tall enough to reach the handle of the
refrigerator. So, he decided to log-onto the Twilight Zone. It was a constant
source of amusement for him, being that he enjoyed being insulted, and besides,
he might one day find somebody else who molested fire hydrants. So, he went in
on his computer, and dialed up the Zone.
Fate had decided to play a hand in this, as Fate thought it would be amusing
to see what would happen if Thompson and Ackeret met. So, it was pre-destined,
that at 7:32 pm, Saturday, the 5th of January, 1984 ad, that a user was hung up
on, and Matt Ackeret was allowed entrance to the Twilight Zone. (Author's note:
Please inform me which of you was disconnected from the zone at this time of
day. Thank you.)
Matt entered his password, taking five minutes, being a slow typist and all,
and found himself with the usual hate mail. Most of it was from this person
named "The Jackal", who wanted to make love to him. Matt declined, as he found
that the Jackal wasn't a fire hydrant. Granted, he looks like one, but he
wasn't Matt's type. The fifth letter was from Eric C. Thompson. Matt tilted
his head to the side, and stared at the screen. Somebody accually wanted to
meet him! And somebody accually wanted to side with him on the boards, besides
the Jackal! This was amazing! Perhaps Eric was a fire hydrant... So, he gave
Eric a call that evening.
Chapter Three : The Meeting
---------------------------
Eric sat up in bed, and stretched, knocking several things off the dresser,
including his TI computer. He replaced it, and found that his telephone was
ringing. Upon answering it, a voice said something like:"HI ERIC!! THIS IS
MATT!" Now, I will note, that Matt Ackeret's voice is so high, that it is
commonly mistaken for a carrier signal. Eric rushed to his computer, and shoved
the phone into his earmuff modem. Matt did the same, and soon they were typing
to each other.
HI! THIS IS MATT ACKERET!
Uhm, hello there. This is Eric. I saw you on the twilight zone, and I
decided to send you a letter. How are you?
FINE! SAY, DID YOU WANT TO GO TRASHING?
Trashing? Well, my father is already a sanation worker, bu
tDON'T WORRY ABOUT A THING! WE FIND INTRESTING STUFF WHILE TRASHING!
You mean going through garbage cans?
YES!
Oh, I see.
DON'T WORRY, MY MOTHER DOES THAT ALL THE TIME.
Okay...
This conversation went on for about an hour, where Matt talked about molesting
fire hydrants (whereas Eric pointed out that zuchinni's are more fun.), and
where they would trash. To get to the point, Matt had no idea whatsoever what
"Trashing" was. He had seen the word before, on an AE line. He liked it, so he
decided to impress Eric with the use of it. Eric liked the idea of getting free
things out of a garbage dumpster, and they set a time and date for it.
Chapter Four : The Trashing
---------------------------
They had found, and staked out for several weeks, an excellent place to do
some trashing. Eric had come up with the idea, and soon they were walking up to
a garbage bin, located behind K-Mart. It was mostly filled with leftovers from
past lunches people had eaten in the luncheon department. Matt jumped right in,
and Eric stood outside to watch. Matt had insisted that he was the expert on
trashing, so Eric decided to let a professional go to work. The first thing
Matt found was an Engerbert Humperdink tape, which he gave to Eric. Eric
profusely thanked him, and pocketed it. Matt had also found a "He-Man Battle
Cat", but he didn't tell Eric, for he was afraid that Eric would take it from
him. So, he kept this treasure hidden.
"Eric," said Matt, looking up from the dumpster, "We can go to the cans behind
Gemco if you like." Eric looked at him.
"Uhm, I really don't-" His sentence was short-lived, as Matt cut him off, like
he does in chat mode.
"No, it would be fascinating! Think!" said Matt.
"Oh." said Eric. Then, Eric decided to jump about five feet in the air. This
jump was involuntary however, because somebody had put their hand on Eric's
shoulder.
Chapter Five : The Sinning!
---------------------------
The security guard had seen Eric and Matt from a distance. He was walking
around the back of K-Mart, and found a blond-haired figure with a mole on his
nose, standing there pocketing a tape, while a small youth, who couldn't have
been any older that four, in the guard's oponion, was "swimming" around in the
trash bin. Now, anybody who wanted to play in garbage was beyond him, but then
again, he was a simple person, who worked for minimum wage being a security
guard for K-Mart, so he decided to see why this four-year old enjoyed waste so
much. He walked over, and put his arm on the blond-haired figure's shoulder. A
nice friendly gesture, but Eric hadn't counted on a sweatly palm hitting his
shoulder. He jumped, and the guard took this as a sign of aggression. He
pulled a small revolver, and shot wildly, screaming bloody murder the whole
time. However, he missed, and only succeeded in blackening the large red 'K'
ont the sign. Matt dove into the garbage, which is where he stayed for at least
two weeks, hence his disapearance on the BBS's. Eric, on the other hand, ran
like mad, and returned home. The guard picked himself up off the ground, and
began wondering if they were drug-crazed hippies or not. He decided to blame
the sign on the KKK, and wandered back into the store.
Chapter six : Finalle
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Eric reached home, and ran into his room, where he hid under the bed for three
days straight. His parents put out a rescue team on the second night to look
for him, but they were looking in Ohio, by mistake. (You'll have to meet Eric's
parents to understand this weird turn of events. -Author(plural.)) He decided
to swear off the modem, and stay away from people with "normal" names. They
were trouble. So, Eric sold his modem for 49 cents at a flea market, and went
home to listen to a new tape he got, which was another game for the TI. We are
still unsure who bought Eric's modem, but when we find out, that's another
story.
-Fin.
The characters mentioned in this text file are purely fictional. No actual
persons, living, dead, or otherwise, without satiric content, are intented or
should be inferred. Eric C. Thompson and Matt Ackeret are property of Anarchy
inc. All Rights Reserved.
/\________________________________________________________________________/\
\/ \/
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.cni yhcranA
...stneserp... ------------
Matt Ackeret and Eric C. Thompson
[\\] Do Bridgingheads [//]
livederaD ehT ,soahC ehT covaH ,hcaoR nooM ehT : yb nettirW
Anarchy inc. "We take care of our own." founded mcmlxxxiv
Introduction: By Havoc The Chaos "I'm not a vandal. I'm a
------------ friend of entropy."
This, you might say, could be a sequel to the immensely popular Anarchy inc.
file "Ackeret & Thompson go Trashing". Basically, it's just another example of
why people with the mentallities of an eggplant (ie. New users, Bell telephone
linemen, 13-year olds, etc.) should not try anything like trashing,
bridgingheads, or phreaking. In this story, we would like to present the real
life accounts of our heros, Ackeret & Thompson. In the last textfile, we got to
read about how they decided to go trashing...behind K-Mart. Not a wise thing to
do. Anyways, without futher adieu, we present this month's story...
Chapter one: Ackeret-Massive Studgod "Time is an illusion...
----------- Especially with your eyes
closed."
Matt Ackeret strode out of the parking lot of Homestead High School, and said
a friendly "Hey babe." to a group of girls standing near him. They chattered
about how sexy Matt was, and how badly they wanted his muscular body. Matt
grinned. He walked over to a senior nicknamed "Moose", and demanded his
extortion money. Moose looked up sadly, with great fear in his eyes, stating
that he didn't have any money. Matt made a mental note to blow up his dog.
(Good Christie. -author) Suddently, there was a loud noise from the parking
lot. Matt thought, "Hmmm..Good. My homemade pipebomb went off. I must tell
The Stainless Steel Rat about this." The hall was quickly filled with F.B.I.
agents, all shouting about arresting Ackeret. Matt dived out the second story
window, and landed in the seat of his Lamborghini Countach 5000S. He quickly
sped out of the parking lot, turning up his Deep Purple to the highest volume
attainable. The policemen were now in hot pursuit. He decided to log-onto the
Twilight Zone while driving, and not to waste his time by auto-dialing. He
would just tell Rod that he wanted level nine...Maybe he would be co-sysop. He
drove down highway 280 at eighty miles per hour, grinning all the while. It
wasn't the fact that he heard his mother while driving, it was the fact that she
was calling him for breakfast, and it was noon. This was odd.
Chapter two: Wake up and smell the marajuana. "My god! I'm a fireplug.
----------- Does it hurt much?"
Matt Ackeret sat slowly up in bed, coming back to the land of the living. His
mother had been calling for some time. It seemed that today was the day that
his parents would both be at work, while Homestead High School was off school
today. "Matt!" his mother bellowed. "Get in here, and eat your oatmeal! It's
getting warm!" Matt yawned.
"Okay mom." he said in a squeaky voice. His Vic-20 computer thought that his
voice was a carrier tone, and returned with a carrier. Matt sighed.
"Matt, we're leaving now. We're going to work now." His father, who was in
the living room, playing with Matt's little sister, grinned. He wondered if it
would be cold in Siberia this year. Soon, his parents were gone and out on a
plane overseas. Matt sighed again.
There was a loud knock on Matt's front door. The door fell inward, due to
lack of hinges. "HELLO!" came a deep voice from outside of the house. "MATT!!
ARE YOU HOME!? I HAVE SOMETHING NEAT TO DO." Matt looked up, and jumped out of
bed. It was his long, lost friend: Eric C. Thompson! Matt bounded into the
living room in his Spider-Man pajamas, with a superman cape on his back. Eric
smiled.
"Eric!" he said in a squeaky voice. "How have you been since our trashing
experience?" Matt's look of surprise turned to a look of astonishment quickly.
"What's that, Eric?"
Eric held up a poorly painted box. It was blue, and said "QUAKER OATS" on the
side. About fourty or fifty wires hung from it. "This is my very own Pacific
Bell test set!" Eric proclaimed proudly. "I built it myself."
Matt was awestruck. "Gee Eric, are we going to go out and look at a bridging
head?" Eric nodded. "Wow!" Matt rushed into his room to get a monkey wrench.
He could use this to open it. He needed a 2/14th, or a something like that...
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