_ | \ | \ | | \ __ | |\ \ __ _____________ _/_/ | | \ \ _/_/ _____________ | ___________ _/_/ | | \ \ _/_/ ___________ | | | _/_/_____ | | > > _/_/_____ | | | | /________/ | | / / /________/ | | | | | | / / | | | | | |/ / | | | | | | / | | | | | / | | | | |_/ | | | | | | | | c o m m u n i c a t i o n s | | | |________________________________________________________________| | |____________________________________________________________________| ...presents... White Rodent's Short Story Lump by White Rodent >>> a cDc publication.......1990 <<< -cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc- _______________________________________________________________________________ -"The Soldier Ants" It was a lovely June morning when my family and I went for a picnic in the meadow behind our house. We had just started serving the potato salad when Aunt Sally pointed skyward and said, "Look." We did. There, silhouetted in the sky were the soldier ants. Paratroopers, as we later discovered, from the 32nd Airborne. Within seconds, they secured their perimeter. Then they got to work stripping down the meadow. It took them twenty-two minutes, I know because my dad let me borrow his watch. When they finished, they thanked us for our cooperation and headed off into the sunset, taking with them whatever wasn't nailed down. My dad sent me back to the house to get more potato salad. _______________________________________________________________________________ -"The Problem With Names" There once was a dog named Zephelixan Teb who killed himself because he had such a stupid name. _______________________________________________________________________________ -"The Poor Kid Who Couldn't Spell" Once upon a time there was a poor kid who couldn't spell. Usually, this did not bother him, but occasionally someone would rag on him about it. One day he had had enough. He said, "Are you so insecure about your own life that you must seek out my frailties and pour salt over them? Must you taunt me for something as insignificant as spelling?" "Yes," they said. _______________________________________________________________________________ -"Majority Rules" Most people die eventually. _______________________________________________________________________________ -"Sometimes" Sometimes I watch TV. I see senseless violence and gratuitous sex, but I don't mind. I see sitcoms that use tired plots to squeeze a chuckle out of me, but I don't mind. I see stupid music videos of garbage pop bands made up primarily of teenagers, but I don't mind. I see the news and the violence that is synonymous with today, but I don't mind. I see documentaries telling me that there will be no rain forests by the year 2000 or that billions will die of starvation in half that time, but I don't mind. But if I see one more fucking commercial with Vern in it, someone's gonna die. _______________________________________________________________________________ -"Excuses" I ate a pigeon today I don't know why I just did, that's my excuse I don't go around analyzing everything I do Anyone who does is sick and needs help _______________________________________________________________________________ -"The Practical Joke" It was the Christmas of '82 when the brown box arrived. It was for me, but had no return address. On the top was a large white envelope with the words "Do Not Open Until X-Mas" scrawled across it. I put it under the tree. Christmas morning. Every present I had opened had been clothes. It was very depressing and I only had two gifts left. Only two more chances to get the ghetto blaster that I had asked for. I grabbed the box with brightly colored paper, tore through it and peeked inside. "What did you get, Gavin?" asked my mother. She knew perfectly well what I had just opened. She gave it to me. "It's a sweater," I replied through clenched teeth. Bitch. Only one box left, the brown one with the envelope. It was about the right size and weight. It just might be. It just might. My heart started pounding. I opened the envelope and read the card within. "I hope you get a bang out of this." Yes, this was it. This was the ghetto blaster! I pried open the top with my fingers. The roar was deafening. So deafening, in fact, that I lost thirty percent of my hearing. I also lost my legs, both my hands and one eye. It seems like some practical joker mailed me a bomb for Christmas. What some people won't do for a laugh. _ _ _____________________________________________________________________ /((___))\|The Convent..........619/475-6187 The Dead Zone.........214/522-5321 [ x x ] |Demon Roach Undrgrnd.806/794-4362 The People Farm.......916/673-8412 \ / |PURE NIHILISM..........new # soon Ripco.................312/528-5020 (' ') |Tequila Willy's GSC..209/526-3194 The Works.............617/861-8976 (U) |===================================================================== .ooM |(c)1990 cDc communications by White Rodent. 12/26/89-04/04/90-#133 \_______/|All Rights Pissed Away.