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- From: jem@sunSITE.unc.edu (Jonathan Magid)
- Subject: Ceremonial Heterogy and Cerebral Hemorrhaging [CONTINUED]
- Message-ID: <1993Jan23.074628.24679@samba.oit.unc.edu>
- Followup-To: alt.non.sequitur
- Summary: parts I and II
- Sender: usenet@samba.oit.unc.edu
- Nntp-Posting-Host: sunsite.unc.edu
- Organization: University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill
- Date: Sat, 23 Jan 1993 07:46:28 GMT
- Lines: 146
-
-
- [Apologies to: Gooley, Robinson Jeffers, Cindi Lauper, Latoya Jackson
- Jesse Helmes,Chris Christopherson, Diana Senechal, and Gogol]
-
- Viscous lipids jumped onto the band wagon, wagging their blond
- school-boy tails enthusiastically.
-
- This tragic moment had been brought to the crisis point by
- the negligence of society combined with the scarcity of noodles. These
- two seemingly unrelated trends had set certain molecules into motion (brownian)
- that would eventually lead to the collapse of the cheezy chinese restaurant
- industry as we know it.
-
- No more to munch the rice forever
- but live with Cindi Lauper
- a few days as she bops.
-
- It was my solemn duty (drawn randomly from a pot of piercing scorpions,
- but entitling me to "Buy one order of Sea Cucumber Lo-Mein, Get one Half
- Price") to prevent this tragedy that rushed towards our nation like the
- shell of a well-greased Galapogos tortoise which had been stepped upon
- by a hairy mammoth.
-
- A plan. I needed a plan.
-
- A clue. I needed a clue.
-
- Then it hit me, like Jesse Helmes tied to the nose cone of an MX
- missile and launched point blank at the back of my head, and I saw a
- light so blinding that I grew hair on the palms of both of my hands.
-
- I decided to shop at Goolian "You needa clue, we needa screw" Enter-
- prises. After thoroughly offending the proprietor, I asked my question.
-
- "Where does that buzz you get in the back of your head after
- eating the type of oriental food found in blue dishes in red restaurants
- come from?"
-
- After decyphering my lack of punctuation the Gool Spoke, in a
- surprisingly quiet sing-song, reminding me of Latoya Jackson.
-
- Where the drugs lords go not,
- And William Bennett smokes pot,
- That is where the answers dance
- Where Jesus himself eats Moo Goo Gai Pan.
-
- After this the Gool would say nothing else.
-
- So, I reached into my pocket to get his required payment. I pulled out
- my dirty red bandana and gave it to the Gool. It quickly was transformed
- into a thin and wirey (20 gauge copper co-ax) heroin addict, who cleanly
- ripped of the proprietor's skin and left in order to search for some fellow
- named Robert.
-
- I felt strangely drained and slightly embarrased by this participation
- in someone else's fantasy and left quickly.
-
- The seconds were ticking towards the quiet tone of
- midnight. Soon it would be first day of the Year of the Rooster and
- everything would be all cocked up.
-
- As I walked down the street, past "Chang Wui's All Night Mongolian
- Barbecue Take-out and Kosher Deli", I carefully considered the wise
- master's words.
-
- Filled with sudden inspiration and a terrible attack of discomfortable
- bloating and gas, I ducked into the convenient alley way.
-
- A mysterious woman stood there, lounging delicately against a
- freshly painted wall. Realizing that sight gags rarely work in ascii-only
- channels, I examined her closer.
-
- She was the sort of woman that men die for, with legs like my cousin,
- Antoine, who had tried to defect to Belgium, only to find that they we were
- allies and that Belgium had no use for a five-jointed flaming-sword
- swallowing midget anyway.
-
- "What's your name, sweet-heart," I coughed and wheezed, falling victim
- to a sudden return of the World War I era sensitivity to mustard gas that
- I had inheirited from my grandmother, a whore who had produced boot leg
- nerve toxins in a small still that she kept hidden beneath a large pile
- of her uncomfortable looking, but strangely intriguing, lacey underthings.
-
- "Cindiaa Ex Machina," she said, turning towards me and revealing that
- what I had taken to be paint was actually an incredibly sensual outdoors wood
- lacquer; like lycra, it stretched across her right breast which had been
- bionically augmented with a small flame thrower and thinwire ethernet port.
-
- I knew immediately that this was the lady that I had been looking
- for; not only did she offer NRENnet connectivity, but also a way to
- bring this story to a close.
-
- "Tell me moire," I blurted, and as her face became contorted
- and pixelated, I quickly corrected myself, "more."
-
- "The answer is as plain as the nose on your face; go into
- Chang Wui's and order the Gefilte Crispy Prawn Matzoh Ball, and all
- shall become clear."
-
- As I turned around to leave, she disappeared into a cloud of
- fowl smelling smoke. Pigeon I think, or perhaps grouse.
-
- I stepped into the door and the smell of pepper fried pastrami
- hit me like a wheel of a strong German cheese dropped off of a high
- shelf onto my bare head.
-
- I was led to my seat by a middle aged man of indeterminate
- oriental origin who's bad need of professional orthodontia reminded me
- of Tom Sawyer being crunched by a large truck while painting his Aunt's
- fence.
-
- I followed Cindiaa's instructions and ordered the traditional
- Sino-Judaic New Year's treat. It arrived steaming hot and with a small
- bowl of duck sauce which spoke to me with a strong lisp, which I found
- comforting as I had been expecting the hackneyed 'l'-'r' mix-up.
-
- "Tho, you are looking for de andwer to the New Year'th mythtery of
- the dithappearance of tho many redtaurants?"
-
- "Frankly," I answered, "I can't remember; this story has rambled
- on for so long that I just can't recall."
-
- "Don't bodder wid de Reagan act, check your Thea Cucumber Lo-Mein
- coupon. Dat's your job, for thure."
-
- Tho, I mean, So it was. Now was the time for business; it was time to
- end this charade, which was a pity since the only possible replacement
- was Pictionary, which was already a registered trademark of Milton-Bradley.
-
- "Stop your screwing around, you perverted not-quite-authentic
- asian condiment, we both know who is responsible for the systematic
- conversion of cheap chinese restaurants to Planned Parrot-hood outlets,"
- I squawked.
-
- "You are correct, foolish wethtener, but far too late. My plan
- is clothe to completion, all dat is nethethary is for me to perthonally
- trigger it."
-
- I leapt to action, dipping the tasty shrimp-like delicacy into
- the caustic condiment and ate him.
-
- He was delicious.
- --
- Jonathan Magid jem@sunSITE.unc.edu sunSITE Administrator
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