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     $$     .d""b. .d""b.                  HOE E'ZINE #1085
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     $$  $$ $$  $$ $$ss$$         "This Story is Completely Retarded"
     $$  $$ $$  $$ $$                          by Kreid
     $$  $$ $$  $$ $$  $$                      05/21/00
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     $$  $$ "TssT" "TssT"

        The first time I saw Vlad, he was taking a walk in the woods behind
 rt. 80 in Hope.  It was February, snowing, and he was wearing a T-Shirt; if
 this hadn't been the case, I probably wouldn't have looked in his
 direction.  The shirt was white and it said "I'M NOT FAT I'M PREGNANT SO
 FUCK OFF" and the sleeves were ripped off.

        Now, I'm not the walk-in-the-woods type; I much prefer sidewalks and
 car horns.  I was out there alone because of mushrooms, sitting around,
 leaving my body, and tearing bark off trees.  Vlad, on the other hand, was
 just walking through the cold like he did every day.  He lived in Hope in
 an abandoned tool shed of some sort.  Of course, I didn't learn that until
 long after I shouted my greeting at him.

        "Hey fatass," I shouted.  I was very nervous on account of the very
 intense mushrooms.  "Hey you fat fuck, what are you doing out here in a
 T-Shirt?"  I assumed he wouldn't be insulted because he wasn't really fat
 at all.

        He approached and stared at me for an eternity before answering.  He
 was extremely skinny, malnourished-looking, even.  His eyes were
 perpetually locked in a squint; it seemed like the sunlight was inflicting
 a great pain on his eyes, which I noted with some difficulty were blue.  I
 started to talk at him again but he cut me off:

        "Well, I'm holding snow in my hands real tight and turning it into
 ice.  Tonight I'm gonna make frozen margaritas.  I was also pretending not
 to see you because you look like you wanna be left alone."

        "So uh by the way, why don't you put on a sweater?"

        "Do you have a sweater I could borrow?"

        "No."

        "Well neither do I and I'm not wearing a sweater cuz I don't."

        "I'm sorry.  Uh, I feel weird.  I'm tripping on mushrooms."

        "I can see that.  You're also a really poor conversationalist, man.
 D'ya think you could get your car and drive me somewhere and buy me a
 hamburger?"

        For some reason, probably on account of the mushrooms, I really
 trusted that kid.  He had a real honest face.  Honest and hungry.  "Just
 take my car keys and get one yourself.  Here's five bucks."

        "Hey," said Vlad.  "You're pretty cool.  I live in that abandoned
 toolshed up there.   When I get back we can smoke some grass and drink
 some frozen margaritas."

        That was the last time I ever saw Vlad and my car.

        "Let's feed ice cream to the rats, baby." - Jim Morrison

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 [ (c) HOE E'ZINE -- http://www.hoe.nu       HOE #1085, BY KREID - 5/21/00 ]
