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cDc 133: White Rodent's Short Story Lump
by White Rodent
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| | 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 |©1990 cDc communications by White Rodent. 12/26/89-04/04/90-#133
\_______/|All Rights Pissed Away.
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