NetNews Usenet Archive 1993 #1/NN_1993_1.iso/spool/talk/bizarre/43948

Text File | 1993-01-08 | 3.9 KB | 73 lines

Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Path: sparky!uunet!cs.utexas.edu!qt.cs.utexas.edu!yale.edu!spool.mu.edu!wupost!newsfeed.rice.edu!rice!owlnet.rice.edu!caz
From: [e-mail] (HWRNMNBSOL)
Subject: Re: Rictus Hep, P.I. (Continue Or Die)
Message-ID: <[e-mail]>
Sender: [e-mail] (James Ulysses Cazamias)
Organization: Rice University
References: <[e-mail]> <[e-mail]>
Date: Fri, 8 Jan 1993 07:08:17 GMT
Lines: 61

In article <[e-mail]>, [e-mail] (fun fun fun boy) writes:
|> In article <[e-mail]> [e-mail] (HWRNMNBSOL) writes:

|> >I was just settling down for a little nap, having burrowed deep into the
|> >cool mud at the banks of Lake Victoria, when SHE walked in.......
|> tall and dark, or was that just the light? hell, she had on heels so high
|> i practically blew right there. "hey," she said, a cigarette hanging from
|> her lip. i stood up slowly. "exactly what is it i can do you for miss?" i
|> said looking her up and down a couple of times. "well, for starters you
|> can light this damned cigarette that's been hanging from my lip while you
|> drool like a puppy." "ouch, baby you slay me." i say as i light the
|> cigarette. "let's get down to business" i say while gesturing to the chair
|> in front of my desk. she sits. jeezus, hell, she's got legs that go waaayy
|> up. i mean UP. i get control and sit down. "you see," she says, "i've got
|> a small problem with my ex-husband. it seems he's been scratching my name
|> into bullets." "do you mean this in a figurative sense or in reality?" i
|> ask her. "you stupid fuck! of course i mean it in a figurative sense. like
|> the shit has time to scratch my name into bullets while running the
|> biggest frog licking scam in the country." "do you mean to tell me your ex
|> is louie, louie the licker?" "yes." she replies. "well, you've got to be
|> out of your damned mind to think i'm going anywhere near him or his boys.
|> thanks for stoppin' by, have a swell life." she stands up but her skirt
|> doesn't fall as fast. torture, plain and simple, that's all it was. "Mr.
|> Hep, i'm prepared to offer you
the head of Alfredo Garcia if you can solve my problem."

I narrowed my eyes, a maneuver I had worked long and hard on with a power
sander.  "Which head?"  I cleverly asked.  She blew smoke in my face, which
I gratefully inhaled.

"I heard you were a wise guy," she said and, spinning on one heel, breezed
out of the room like a fart in an HVAC duct.  I gaped in awe, in part because
she had actually spun about three times on her stiletto, but mostly because
the scenery of her lush posterior in full retreat had caused me to shoot a
terrific wad up out of my trousers and into my left eye -- and it smarted
something fierce, let me tell you.  Moments later, I realized that I didn't
even know the gal's name.  Good thing I stole her wallet.  Hell, Mama Hep
didn't raise any dummies, although she did squeeze out a serial killer and
a pair of pedophiles.

A few minutes later I was pounding the pavement looking for clues.  After
a while my knuckles got so bloody I had to stop, but that didn't keep me
from asking myself the important questions.  For instance, who was this
Louie the Licker, and what was this amphibian obsession he had?  Why would
Louie want to put the finger on his ex, who was so dumb she let me light
the filter end of her Virginia Slims?  And, most importantly, how could I
convince my gazelle-like client to do the Down-And-Dirty Bone Dance with
yours truly, AND fork over the head of Alfredo Garcia, all without my
actually doing anything in the way of serious work?  Pressing questions,
these, and a pressing erection to boot.

A shadow fell across my face as I sprawled on the pavement, lost in pure
analytic deduction and a screaming orgasm.  I looked up to see the thick
sole of a hobnailed boot descending on my quiescent, unsuspecting groin....




Continue!
--
HWRNMNBSOL