'##::::'##:::'#####:::'########: VIVA LA REVOLUCION! CERDO DEL CAPITALISTA!! ##:::: ##::'##.. ##:: ##.....:: =========================================== ##:::: ##:'##:::: ##: ##::::::: THE HELOTS OF ECSTASY PRESS RELEASE #400 !! #########: ##:::: ##: ######::: ZIEGO VUANTAR SHALL BE MUCH VICTORIOUS! !! ##.... ##: ##:::: ##: ##...:::: =========================================== ##:::: ##:. ##:: ##:: ##::::::: "Choose Your Own Adventure" !! ##:::: ##::. #####::: ########: by -> Various Artists !! ..:::::..::::.....::::........:: 1/4/99 !! !!========================================================================!! As a special joint-project, HOE #400 is based on those old "Choose Your Own Adventure" books that many of us read as kids. The HOE Staff, along with many others, decided to do our version of this concept, with each of us writing our own short part. To play, simply start at square 1. When you are offered a choice of where to go, select which number in [brackets] you wish to follow, and follow it. Simple enough, huh? But beware... this is a deadly game, and endings come quick if you make an unwise choice! The following authors (43 in all) have written at least some part of this file (listed in order of appearance): Mogel, Cstone, Meenk, Trilobyte, Darwin, Art, Zooey, Isaac, Swiss Pope, Ziego Vuantar, Kaia, Tasha, Teerts, Ewheat, Anjee, Kreid, AnonGirl, Jook, Tortoise, AltRocks, Mistawho, Quarex, Neko, Ilsundal, Metal Chick, Aster, Mutter, PezMonkey, Oeb, TanAdept, Phairgirl, Deadpan, Nybar, Caitlin, Avenger, Kyst, Vyrus, Ior, LilNilHil, Miasma, Soybean, and Squinky. Enjoy the fruits of our labor. !!========================================================================!! [1] (Mogel) You never liked your friends in high school very much. They were generally "alright" by conventional standards, you supposed, but as senior year pressed on, you were progressively becoming more and more of a social elitist -- eventually only hanging out with the captain of the football team, the head cheerleader, and the guy with the most Dragonlance boxed sets. The four of you would sometimes go on amazing adventures together around the neighborhood! Today is no exception. Bright and early your friends assembled outside your front door, full of a brand new project -- "let's go explore the woods!" * If you'd like to go exploring the woods with your friends, go to [2]. * If you'd like to go back to sleep, go to [3]. [2] (Cstone) To the delight of your friends, you decide to join in the trek into the woods. Your ego is stroked by the fact that as far as you know, nobody has ever entered the forest and lived. As you fearlessly enter the woods, you see the remnant of a trail heading in one direction. You briefly wonder which direction the trail led, but soon realize that nobody among you has brought a compass. You think about going back for one, but that thought dies quickly as you frustratingly realize that nobody has brought a map, either. * If you'd like to follow the old trail, go to [4]. * To go in a random untrodden direction, go to [5]. [3] (Cstone) You're really tired, since you didn't get to sleep until 4 A.M. after a wild night of partying, so you respectfully decline the offer. To your surprise, your "friends" quickly get upset, and deluge you with angry questions about why you don't go with them and why they should even be associated with you. As they start to leave, you feel afraid that your seemingly innocuous refusal to explore the woods may have done irreparable damage to the relationship between you and your friends. The threads holding your fragile, deformed social ego above the water of despair are cut, and you slowly trudge back to bed. You try to sleep, but it's impossible now that your life has been ruined, so you change your mind and run back outside, determined to join your friends in their journey through the woods, but they're already gone... the end. [4] (Meenk) You begin to stumble down the old trail, struggling to keep from losing your footing amongst the dead branches and rocks. One of your stupid friends is whining about the poison ivy which is growing along the sides of the narrow path. You try to block out his complaints, but his voice is at the exact frequency that triggers your chronic migraine headaches. You turn around and scream "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" He does, but only for another 30 feet. At this point the path has virtually disappeared and you are treading on compacted poison ivy. He begins to whine louder than before. * If you pick up a fist-sized stone and hurl it at your friend's head, go to [8]. * If you stuff your ears full of leaves, go to [9]. [5] (Trilobyte) you opt not to follow the established path and head off to the right. your friends gain some respect for you because you have already taken the helm of control of the group and have led them off to what seems to be uncharted territory. after you have walked a distance through the wilderness, you notice that the scenery seems to be changing a bit. the traditional green shades are becoming darker and the brown shades are becoming deeper. you hear what sounds like a stream or brook somewhere to the left. * To trek toward the water sound, go to [6]. * If you want to continue along your random path, go to [7]. [6] (Meenk) You start to the left, pushing through small branches and foliage, the trees above blotting out most of the light. Your friends encourage you, impressed by your bravery, and you lead them deep into the trees. You are forced to stop when you get to a huge fallen tree, but the gurgling of the water seems to be right on the other side. You ask for a boost from your friends, and soon stand on top of the gigantic log. One by one you pull your companions atop the tree. Suddenly one of them slips on the moist moss, grabs onto you and one of the others, and *SPLASH* you all plunge into the cold water on the other side. You all frantically grab for each other, but the only hand you grasp is the cold, clammy hand of a corpse. * If you examine the corpse, go to [10]. * If you get the fuck out of there, friends or no friends, go to [11]. [7] (Darwin) The ground beneath you gives way with a loud *SNAP* as you, the cheerleader and the Nerd all slide down a steep embankment into a muddy pit. The captain of the football team looks down at you and begins to taunt you. The Jock is suddenly quiet and then you hear the sounds of a struggle and the Jock babbling incoherently. You hear a wet crunching noise and a scream as The Jock's lifeless body flies into the pit and lands arranged in all the wrong ways. As the cheerleader starts screaming and the Nerd starts rolling two 10 sided die, you realize it's up to you to take charge of an ugly situation. * If you smoke a joint, go to [14]. * If you whip out a pocket knife and calm your friends down, go to [15]. [8] (Art) You whip the fist-sized rock at your role-playing friend's head. All of a sudden, the air surrounding him shimmers, and a blinding white light shines until you can't bear to look at it any longer. When you slowly reopen your half-blinded eyes you see not your friend, but a many-eyed BEHOLDER! * If you withdraw your trusty Vorpal BoyScout Pocketknife and attempt to vanquish the beholder, go to [16]. * If you take out a small black palmable device from your pocket with the words "DON'T PANIC" written on the cover, go to [17]. [9] (Art) As you hastily grab a handful of leaves from the shrubbery of the forest and stick them in your ears to drown out the incessant whine caused by your stupid friend's monologue, you swiftly realize two things. One, that your hands just became twice as large as they were moments ago and itch like a motherfucker, and, two, your ears are beginning to pus and leak bodily fluids. Your already unbearable migraine turns into a throbbing black hole of a headache... in your left eye, fusing every single c-phiber in your swollen head. With one last torturous wave of pain, your head explodes like an overripe melon from the caustic effects of the Poison Ivy that you mistakenly plunged into your unwitting ear canals. The end. [10] (Darwin) After the requisite five seconds of abject horror, you and your vapid friends jump to your feet, aghast at the spooky corpse which is lying face down in an eddy of the forest brook. The corpse is dressed in a conservative blue suit which contrasts the putrescent white of its bloated flesh. Summoning up your courage, you flip the corpse over onto its back and are shocked to see the face of the 37th President of these United States, Richard Milhouse Nixon! Your surprise at seeing the former leader of the free world increases tremendously when his lips start to move and you hear him speak! "Please.. let me explain..", he rasps in an a voice that sounds like a creaking door. * If you listen to what Tricky Dick has to say, go to [12]. * If you run like hell from the undead Richard Nixon, go to [13]. [11] (Zooey) As you clamber quickly out of the water, flailing your arms and legs and cursing the day mom fell in love with your swimming instructor and daddy pulled you out of classes at the Y, your foot catches in a sinkhole underwater, and everything goes black. When you come to in a coughing fit some time later, spewing dark water around you, nothing looks familiar, and the friends you abandoned are nowhere to be found. Once you rise unsteadily to your feet, though, you notice that one thing at least is still with you--the clammy hand and detached forearm of the corpse! You notice that the hand has six fingers, which probably accounts for the firm grip that it has. * If you want to take a closer look at your new treasure, go to [18]. * If you couldn't sooner be rid of the thing, throw it into the bushes and run towards what you think may be upstream, go to [19]. [12] (Isaac) Your instincts tell you to run or quickly find something heaven to beat down the abomination, but are you feeling sympathetic and down right cheeky today like a curious little monkey. So, you lean towards him in hopes better understanding his dying-old-lady voice. That is when his hand shoots out and he seizes the side of your head and hair. You scream such a high tone it can barely be heard by human ears. Oh, and you die after he bites a large chuck of your head off. The end. [13] (Swiss Pope) Heart racing, you sprint through the forest alone until you come to a clearing to catch your breath. Was what you have seen real? You recall the day at school when your civics teacher announced the former President's death-- surely that could not have been him! But the corpse's beady eyes, widow's peak in the hair, nose of a crooked Quaker leaves no doubt in your mind that it was indeed Richard Milhouse Nixon. Suddenly you hear the sounds of voices and footsteps-- could they be your friends, could they be hunters, could they possible be... ARMY GUYS? * If you want to hide, hoping that you are not discovered, go to [28]. * If you want to shout out, letting yourself be known, go to [29]. [14] (Isaac) With the on-slot of screaming and emotion you decide to take out your shit and smoke for awhile. As you do you feel yourself lose grip on reality and you pass out, probably as a result of bad weed. You have a dream about a small naked girl in an oriental garden who stabs you in the chest with a very large knife. You wake up to a quiet morning sun rise and the sound of birds and a softly trickling scream. * If you would like to find your friends, go to [26]. * If you would like to find your way home, go to [27]. [15] (Ziego Vuantar) YOUR FRIENDS ARE STUPID! YOU THREATEN TO CUT THEM TO BITS AGAIN AND AGAIN TO SILENCE THEIR MISERABLE EXISTENCES... BUT DO THEY LISTEN? OF COURSE NOT! THAT'S JUST LIKE YOU DUMB, SELF-CENTERED, CAPITALISTIC AMERICANS. YOU KILL THEM ALL AND THEN KILL YOURSELF AND MAKE ZIEGO VUANTAR VERY VERY HAPPY! THE END. [16] (kaia) But faster than you can say "uncle," the many-eyed beholder lunges towards you, folds of its gnarled, rubbery-loose flesh slopping you like punching bags knocking you to the ground. Its hot and sour breath sears your face as you withdraw your boyscout knife and drive it fast and hard, many times, into the space between the eyes. Star bucks Coffee trickles from some of the wounds, while irish cream pours from others. Sweet nectar of the gods! You take out a tin cup and start to collect fluid to drink. * If you've decided to get wired on Star bucks, go to [34]. * If you've decided to get plastered on Bailey's, go to [35]. [17] (Swiss Pope) "What's this?" you ask, referring to the small black palmable device with the words "DON'T PANIC" on the cover. "The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. It's a sort of electronic book. It tells you everything you need to know about anything. That's its job," says the Beholder. You turn it over nervously in your hands. "I like the cover," you say. "Don't Panic. It's the first helpful or intelligible thing anybody's said to me all day." Suddenly, Douglas Adams comes trotting through the forest, accompanied by his lawyers from Simon and Schuster, spouting off gibberish about copyright infringement, then teleports you to Traal, where you are promptly eaten by the mind boggling stupid Bugblatter Beast. The end. [18] (tasha) You take a deep breath and slowly begin prying the pale hand off of your wrist, grimacing at your fingers, which are sinking into the bloated flesh. A drop of watered down blood drips from the detached forearm of the corpse and onto your already soaked jeans. You swallow the lumps in your throat, and prepare to fully examine your new toy. You notice a few, previously oozing, sores near the wrist. * If you wish to examine these sores more, go to [20]. * If you wish to hold on to the forearm, and try to find your way home to show it to your parents, go to [21]. [19] (Teerts) in a slight fit of panic, you feverishly try to detach the autonomous six-fingered hand and forearm from your arm. unsuccessful, you sit around for about a half hour thinking of a way to get the damned thing off...after much thought you decide to chew the bastard off, but since the hand has six fingers, you instead go for the thumb to speed things up and finally you remove the thing from your arm. you bring the arm high as you are about to throw it into some nearby brush but then you decide that you liked the taste of the meat as you chewed your way free from the arm. you bite off two of the remaining digits and pocket them for later...you know, just in case... you walk off into the woods in search of another trail. * if you want to keep searching for a trail go to [39]. * if you decide to camp here and wait around until you are dry before continuing your journey, go to [40]. [20] (Ewheat) After admiring the materialistic attributes of the sores, you implement your 2nd-grade knowledge of the Newton Laws upon the observing procedure. You benchmark its durability by adding velocity to it as you throw it against a nearby tree. A bear comes out, you regret not voting for Reagan. You're dead. The end. [21] (Tasha) You wrinkle your nose, and get a firm grip on the forearm and hand, before quickly jumping to your feet and fighting your way through the low-hanging branches. You run as fast as you can, and finally exit from the woods onto a street you know to be only a few blocks from your house. You hide the arm under your shirt, and turn a few corners, headed toward your house. You walk in to your mother asking where you've been. * If you apologize and take the arm to your room, go to [22]. * If you show the arm to your mother, go to [23]. [22] (Anjee) You mumble some lame excuse that your mother doesn't buy and head for the mess that is known as your bedroom, still hiding the forearm under your shirt. However, as you were running up the stairs, your new toy falls from your shirt and begins tumbling down the flight of stairs, landing on your dogs head "yELP!@". Your mother walks up to the dog and finds the rotten forearm and thoroughly examines it. You begin to wonder why she hasn't screamed yet, and slowly approach your mother only to see a grin draw onto her face -- she's contemplating something! * If your mother bites into the forearm and swallows a mouthful of rotten flesh and maggots, go to [24]. * If your mother violently slaps you around with the arm, go to [25]. [23] (Anjee) You discard your mother's question and quickly pull the forearm out from under of your shirt and hold it inches from your mother's face. Unlike you expected, she does not ask where the hell you got THAT from, but hits your arm with extreme force, causing you to launch the forearm in mid-air... landing into the soup she was preparing on the stove. You grin evilly and begin to chuckle, asking your mother if she's hungry. Mother bolts towards the phone with steam coming out of her ears and dials the number to the nearest loony bin. You are locked up in a mental institute for the rest of your life, no one ever visits you, and you become best friends with a spider, but it dies a few days later so you kill yourself also. The end. [24] (Zeigo Vuantar) YOUR MOTHER, REMEMBERING HER ROOTS OF AN IMPRISONED CHILD IN A DARK, POOR PRISON CELL, SUFFERING AT THE HANDS OF OPPRESSION, WAS FORCED TO EAT FOREARMS SUCH AS THIS ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS. SHE BITES DOWN, AND THE BLOOD POURS OUT, FLOWING DOWN HER CHIN, HER NECK, AND COLORING HER DRESS DARK RED. YOU TRY TO SCREAM... BUT YOU ARE DEAD. FOR NO GOOD REASON. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!#@#@ THE END. [25] (Kreid) THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD is the last word you can hear before you find yourself staring blankly at the blank ceiling of your now dead-silent home. You feel most of your senses leaving you -- but you definitely sense that you are lying in something wet. "What could this be that I'm lying in?" you wonder, but it's too late for that kind of thinking because you feel you are losing it... losing your... no-- you see a white light in front of you. * If you want to follow the light, go to [30]. * If you want to try to hold on to your life, go to [31]. [26] (Ewheat) When your high school teacher told you to read Marx, you shushed The Communist Manifesto for an evening of Jennifer Aniston and Matthew LeBlanc in NBC's "Friends." You've resorted to marijuana and other social-dependent drugs because of this. You toke a joint and realize these friends of yours aren't really your friends, and they'll never amount up to a masturbation session over-reviewing Courtney Cox and Lisa Kudrow's chest-sizes... You lose all friends. Become a hermit. Write a best-seller that nobody understands but your "intellectual muse." Hahaha, you loser! The end! [27] (Ziego Vuantar) BUT YOU CAN'T GO HOME BECAUSE YOUR HOME HAS BEEN DESTROYED AND IS NOT UNDER CONTROL OF THE OPPRESSIVE GOVERNMENT REGIME! YOUR FAMILY, FRIENDS, AND EVERYTHING YOU KNOW AND LOVE HAS DISAPPEARED AND YOU ARE ALONE, NAKED, AND THE IRONIC FOOT OF CAPITALISM HAS SHOVED ITS FOOT STRAIGHT UP YOUR DESERVING ASS! YOU *DIE*, FUCKER!!! BURN IN HELL!!!!! THE END. [28] (AnonGirl) You search for the nearest hiding place, and stumble upon a small log that you could fit in. You slide inside the wet log and keep a close watch on the things outside when you suddenly feel something moving at your feet. You light a match to see what's down there, and find a small brown baby bear trying to squeeze its way out. You nervously turn back facing forward, only to discover two giant bear feet staring at you. 'Oh shit!', you think, as you begin to hear the crunching sounds of wet wood and feel sharm bear claws tearing away at your body. The end! [29] (Jook) Turning your head ever so slightly to the right, you see the fine men of the American Armed Forces. With their guns pointed at the tip of your nose, you wonder what you should do about this precarious position. "Excuse me," you say "I'm not really sure what to do here. I mean, you've got a gun, I don't. What to do?" Annoyed at your words, one of the soldiers puts the gun in your mouth. "We do not like you. Your shoes are untied, your pants hang too low, your hair isn't cut very nicely, and you need to make a dentist appointment. Oh, and you need a suit because you're getting old now." "Pleagh," you mumble, wishing they could hear you beg for your life, but within seconds, you hear the twitch of the officer's finger, the gunshot, and ultimately your body slump to the ground. "Get a damn suit and pull your pants up, damn hippie." * If you pull your pants up, which may save your life, go to [36]. * If you don't, go to [29]. [30] (Kreid) You find that you can't quite walk, but you follow the light... you... hover into it. Some time passes, maybe? if time existed? but it seems irrelevant to you, as you are quite overwhelmed, and quite confused; by nothing in particular, just nothingness. All white. You hover idly, in some kind of motion, for a while, until a voice comes into your head, booming. It speaks: * If you accept Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior, go to [32]. * If you are an unrepenting heathen, go to [33]. [31] (Tortoise) As you struggle to regain control of your dirty, rash-splotched body, a gentle voice offers you a jar of honey. Your senses are instantly overwhelmed by images of the sweet, mellifluous substance dripping from your fingertips and onto your tongue, and you relinquish control of what used to be your body. the end. [32] (AltRocks) Suddenly you feel yourself being whacked away at phenomenal speeds. You see the light getting closer and closer, and closer, until it seems to be right there. Then you notice a man standing there with a flashlight. He says to you "What did you expect there to be. God? HAHAHA!" The end. [33] (AltRocks) You hear a deep voice speaking to you, from your head, "Good choice. Maybe you're not such a putz after all. But you still have a long way to go. Now is the time to prove that your not some dumb text file writing computer geek with no real life sckillz. You must go thru a series of trials of the physical, mental, and emotional types. You will wish there was a hell after you're done. * If you accept the challenge go to [37]. * If you refuse the challenge go to [38]. [34] (Kaia) The Star bucks coffee is a thousand degrees hot and instantly grills your insides into jerky. Your friends, now starving because they had lost their fearless leader, stumble upon the freshly-grilled meat. As they realize it's not a mirage, they devour your lean, hickory-smoked flesh. Serves you right for patronizing franchises that mercilessly devour their small business competitors! The end. [35] (AnonGirl) You begin to chug away the Bailey's, beginning to feel tipsy. After deciding you've had enough to drink, you sit back against a large tree and smoke a cigarette, taking in the wonderful nature air. Suddenly the tree begins to shake. You stand up and stare at the shaking tree for a while when out of nowhere a giant cycloptic behemoth jumps out from the treetop. Standing face to face with the tall monster, you notice the items on its belt consist of swords, daggers, knives, and coconut shell shot glasses... and it seems to know kung-fu. * To run for your life, go to [41]. * To challenge the cycloptic beast in a drinking contest, go to [42]. [36] (Mogel) You attempt to pull up your pants, but accidentally stroke your genitals. Go to [49]. [37] (Mistawho) You are whisped away to an open pasture, there seems to only be you. "This'll be the physical test, kill your opponent and you'll move to the next test." Simple enough, right? But that opponent so happens to be Jackie Chan. As he politely removes your testicles and shoves them down your throat, you only manage to utter, "holy fucking shit." Go to [41]. [38] (AltRocks) The voice materializes in front of you in the form of an orange midget with green hair. He looks at you, shakes his head, and asks you, "Why did you have to make it so hard?" He then reaches into a small pouch drooped around neck and pulls out a gun. You try to run, but he guns you down like the stupid snimal you are. He then calls for his midget friends to join in a barbecue of your remains. The end. [39] (Mistawho) Three hours and one finger later, progress is nil. You keep finding paths, but with every path comes a dead end. Finally seeing light deep down a well-hidden path, you follow it and find the cheerleader and the nerd, they follow you down the path further, and you notice what might be an exit. "Don't worry guys," you say as you are looking over your shoulder, "I think I've found a way....." Fate interrupts you, as you have discovered a 200 foot drop off, while pondering on the long fall, you realize you are indeed an idiot. The end. [40] (Teerts) you clear off a fire pit and even drag a big rock over so you can sit, but when you're about to build your fire, you realize that you don't have matches... "AHA!" you exclaim as you reach in your fifth pocket for your zippo...you start to cry when you find that your favorite lighter is gone too! you sit on your rock and start munching on your fingerfoodsnacks when you notice that the temperature is dropping, rapidly. Since you are such an socially elitist mofo, you think you can handle it and just decide to wait out the nite... colder it gets... your core body temperature drops way below 37 and hypothermia sets in... you are never seen again. the end. [41] (Quarex) You start to run for your life. Fortunately for you, reality works a lot like a King's Quest game, and the kung-fu beast mysteriously moves much slower than your keyboard parsed input allows you to move. You easily elude the lumbering beast, and find yourself along side a peaceful pond, surrounded by happy woodland creatures. You think you hear an Erasure song playing in the background. There is a broken baseball bat near the pond's edge, and you smell the faint odor of vanilla. There are paths leading north and south. * To follow a path to the north or the south, go to [45]. * To dive into the pond, go to [46]. [42] (Neko) You challenge the cycloptic beast to a drinking contest. The beast leads you to his cave, even further off the path than you already were. Inside his cave you see a table with two chairs. On the table sit two shot glasses as well as a tray of pickles. You look at the pickles in bewilderment until the beast explains that they are all he has to chase drinks with. The beast then invites you to look into his liquor cabinet and choose the evening's drink of choice. * If you grab a bottle of Smirnoff and pour two shots, go to [43]. * If the bottle of Jack's catches your eye, go to [44]. [43] (Quarex) Hesitantly grabbing the bottle of Smirnoff from the cabinet, you proceed to pour a shot for you and the horrible cycloptic beast. He looks you straight in the eye, says "Here's looking at you, Kid," and downs the shot in a split second. He then grabs the bottle and finishes the rest of it off before you even have a chance to look at your shot glass a second time. You hoist the shot glass to your lips and down the shot. Oops, you forgot that alcohol is a poison. You are dead. The end. [44] (Ilsundal & Metal Chick) You hastefully grab the bottle brewed by your good friend Mr. Daniels, and prepare to pour yourself a shot. The beast abruptly grabs the bottle after you set it down, and pours himself one. Clenching your glass, you take a rapid gulp of the liqour, as it burns your throat on the way down. "Goes down smooth," you shout out, gasping for air in the process. You notice that this brew has a rather funny after taste, but none-the-less, you match the cycloptic beast shot for shot. The beast grins evilly as he watches your body plummet to the cold stone floor. Hours later, you sense a feeling of warth beating down on your cheeks. Opening your eyes, you are practically blinded by the sunbeams shining down from the bright blue sky. You then realize you are no longer in the beast's cave, and begin to wonder what became of your friends, if they are alright, and where the hell you are at this present time. Looking to your side, you notice you are in the middle of a ring of mushrooms, in a clearing in the forest. Moments later, you hear an enchanting combination of chimes, harps, and bells. Three inch winged figures then descend from the sky, each surrounded by a unique colored aura. * If you decide to speak with one of these creatures, go to [47]. * If you decide to dance to the beautiful music, go to [48]. * If you decide to eat one of the mushrooms, go to [50]. [45] (Trilobyte) you leave the distinctly new-age homosexual portion of the mysterious woods and walk a few thousand feet in a northward direction. Your head implodes, explodes, MINDWARP. Are you LISTENING to WHAT I'M SAYING? YOU ARE STANDING IN AN OPEN FIELD WEST OF A WHITE HOUSE, WITH A BOARDED FRONT DOOR. THERE IS A SMALL MAILBOX HERE. > OPEN MAILBOX [goto 53] > GO WEST [goto 54] [46] (aster) after you dive into the murky purple water several happy rabbits follow you them being the happy sheep that they are. you don't feel very wet, and are able to breath very well so you wonder..*what could have happened* you open your eyes and find yourself in a deep underground fortress filled with kings and queens and flowers and three little pigs and a wolf and her puppies and a dandelion. you look next to you to find the happy sheep rabbits that had followed you into this purply pinkish darkish place and you saw nothing but dried out rabbit hides sewn into little mittens and hats. you instantly forget the rabbit sheep and grab the cute, warm, things and try them on, they then reach up and stick forks that have apple pie and whipped cream in your eyes and up you nose and in you ears until you die a slow, agonizing death. the end. [47] (Mutter) "Hello, there," you say to one of the winged creatures which lands gracefully on your hand. She hesitates to speak for a few seconds but then utters in a high-pitched fairy voice what sounds like, "Fuck you, mother bitch!" Appalled at what you hear, you clasp your hands together, thus crushing the fairy with a loud crunch. Upon seeing the gooey remains, the other fairies start to attack by throwing man-eating jelly beans at you. Apparently you were unaware that "Fuck you, mother bitch" was a very polite greeting in fairy-ese -- sucks for you. The end. [48] (Ilsundal & Metal Chick) Not at all intimidated by what you see, you proceed to stand, and dance to the most enchanting music. The creatures are pleased by what they see, and dance along with you. Brilliant flashes of color seem to trigger all of your senses -- sight, taste, smell, touch, and hearing. What seems like no longer then a nano second, you see the sun rising, and setting in an endless loop, as the faery folk dance most vigorously with you. Never have you seen such a sight in all of your existence, unknowingly that this is what you will see for the rest of your existence. The End. [49] (PezMonkey) Your touch accidentally excites your genital region. Your now erect penis fascinates the Army Men, as it is the biggest, hardest, throbbingest cock they have ever seen. Because they are, after all, Army Men, they decide they would like to watch you bone your role-playing, Dragonlance-owning buddy hardcore. "Keep your pants down," they yell at you, and force the Geek (whose name, by the way, is Gary Coleman Salomoski) to bend down in front of you. You ram your manhood into his ass. * If you enjoy this, and want to continue, for the pleasure of both the Army Men and yourself, go to [51]. * If you are scared of what the Army Men might require next, and whisper in Gary Coleman Salomoski's ear to RUN, go to [52]. [50] (aster) you love mushrooms, they are your *friend*. but they are very very very very very evil, so you must be very very very very careful. you eat it and enjoy it mixing in some dandelion greens and carrots and rabbit heads. Then you die because the rabbit's bodies come out and break your legs with mallet and shove your head into a bicycle spokes on it's way to town. the end. [51] (Mogel) The fact that this has been such an utterly strange day, already has made you reconsider your identity. Your mind is set free, and you enter a dream-like state, while your body continues having anal sex. You enter into an out-of-body experience, and are able to float about the world freely, like you never have before. You more free than you ever have in your life. * If you think this is scary, and want to return to the mundane world of anal sex, go to [74]. * If you want to relive the experience in 6th grade, where you didn't have enough guts to kiss Melissa Dicter on the lips, go to [75]. * If you want to explore the woods more, floating about, go to [76]. [52] (Meenk) You tell your buddy to do his best Carl Lewis impersonation at your signal. You pound into his tight, bleeding rectum, watching for a chance to escape. The army du0ds begin to get restless and start joking with each other. One of them starts to tell a long faggot joke and you slap your pal on the ass, HARD. He takes off like a greyhound on pcp. You underestimated his acceleration and find yourself writhing on the floor, screaming, as your friend escapes, your torn penis hanging out of his asshole. The army du0ds are pissed that you interrupted their jokes and begin to kick and beat you. They get a large stick and ram it into your ass, tearing through your intestines, puncturing your lung. You drown on your own blood. The end. [53] (TanAdept) Opening the mailbox reveals a small leaflet. > READ LEAFLET The leaflet is, upon closer examination, a postcard addressed to: "Marc Powell, 2122 Elmwood, Wilmette, IL" Apparently, it's from a woman named Arual, who wants to trade an emerald she has for a cat named Kiki. A return address has been provided. * If you want to offer Arual something else instead, go to [55]. * If you want to try to mail yourself to Australia, go to [56]. * If you want to > GO NORTH, go to [57]. [54] (TanAdept) You would need a machete to go further west. Fortunately, your Boy Scout Vorpal Blade comes close enough, and you hack your way west into reaches unimagined by prior adventurers. Unfortunately, you realize that, since no one was ever expected to be able to get to this location, you've come to the edge of the world. * If you jump off, go to [58]. * If you turn around to go back to the house, go to [59]. [55] (Phairgirl) You use your trusty Boy Scout Transporter Beam to fling yourself to the address she had provided. You knock upon the door to find yourself confronted by a humongous set of breasts and a big toothy smile. However, she notices you don't have Kiki with you. And before you can offer the services of your plethora of whores or a cut in your investments with the Italian mafia, she vaporizes you with her laser vision. The end. [56] (Deadpan) You attempt to remove your extremities so that you can fit the trunk of your body into the mailbox. However, once you have removed your legs, genitalia, and left arm, you realize that you have nothing with which to remove your right arm with and at any rate, you can't reach to mailbox to pull yourself in. You ponder this Disco Ball World as you lie, impotently in a pool of your own, surprisingly tangy, bodily fluids. Eventually you get bored and go home. The end. [57] (Meenk) > GO NORTH You walk up the street to the Pet Store and spend your last few bucks on a cat. It is a pretty shabby cat, with bald spots, matted fur, and bent whiskers. Hey, it was cheap. You tie a rope around it's neck with a homemade sign that says 'Kiki'. You get a box, throw in some chicken nuggets and a no-spill cup of ice, and stuff the cat inside. When the mailman comes, you give him the box, purchase an 'OVERNIGHT' sticker and postage, then kick back and wait. Two weeks later, after you forgot the woman in Australia and the cat, you received a big package. You open it, and inside is the BIGGEST FUCKING EMERALD you have ever seen. You sell it and get some cocaine, cocktails, and naked party freaks. The end. [58] (Phairgirl) As your memories swell up into the back of your mind, you realize that jumping isn't going to be the worst thing in your life. Your life was entirely worthless. From the day your pastor spanked you with the golden chalice to the time your mother pawned your Transformers, you've known that over the edge was the only way to go. Your jump, a perfectly executed swan dive, was graceful and exhilarating. However, to your dismay, you land on a mountain of marshmallows. * To finish what you've started with your Boy Scout Vorpal Blade, go to [62]. * To eat the marshmallows, go to [63]. [59] (Deadpan) As you turn around to go back to the house, John Dillinger steps out from behind a (before un-noticed) tree holding an advanced sniper rifle. You realize that you are now in Dallas, Texas with a rather nice view of Jackie O. cradling John F. Kennedy's broken head in her lap. He takes a look at you, surprised for a moment, and says "Hail Eris." * If you respond "All Hail Discordia.", go to [60]. * If you swoon like a pansy, go to [61]. [60] (Nybar) You say it loud and say it proud. Sadly, the FUCKING OINKERS hear and GUN YOU THE FUCK DOWN! YOU'RE DEAD! * If you choose Arlington National, go to [64]. * If you choose Los Crazy Mexicans Upside-Down Burial Parlor, go to [65]. [61] (Nybar) You swoon. When you wake up two hours later, you are in an underground detention center. Worse yet, you have a monster erection. "Maybe I can help you with that." "Cripes," you think, "it's Natasha, my deadly love interest. And yet, I do have a rather large erection..." As she helps you with your pants, your quick, undercover mind devises a solution to this deadly problem. She takes your pants off. "Give me a blow-job!", you command! "Surely dahlink, but only if joo will pleasure my haht loinS aftah. For you see.. I am the wife of Adolf Hitler! And he is impotent in one ball, which leaves me not getting any!" "Ok, if only I can cum hard enough..." you think as she sucks. "Ok, here goes." You imagine a naked italian, and the resulting cum-river knocks her into the wall. You use your 1960's teenage, special agent muscles to snap the urridium bondage gear you are held captive in. A red-velvet chair swivels around. A debonaire man sitting in it says "Very impressive, agent-K. But next time, keep your pants on! Now, which assignment would you like next?" * If you respond "Let me kill Hitler!", go to [66] . * If you respond "Let me find out who dog-napped your poodle!", go to [67]. [62] (Caitlin) You start to pull out your Boy Scout blade, but realize there are walls made up of cucumbers and pizza. Blushing, you remember when you were penetrated with a cucumber in a very uncomfortable place by your baby sitter when you were 8 years old. You slide your hand quickly down your pants, assuming that since you can't see anyone, that nobody is really there. A small hole develops in the pizza wall, and Mother Angelica, the popular televangelist, excretes through it like a sticky, gooey puddle of mud. She reveals to you the secrets of the Universe and you cry, realizing that when your great aunt masturbated with your naked Totally Hair barbie, that you were voted to be thrown into a bright pink jail cell, with a beautiful naked hermaphrodite. It's a beautiful thing. The end. [63] (Avenger) You eat marshmallows and giggle like a schoolgirl. Yay! that felt good. You giggle like a schoolgirl for several minutes. Is this fun or what? Richard Nixon walks over and begins to draw a diagram of the Reagan administration on your arm. Henry Kissinger covers a mole. Hmm. This annoys you. Marcia Brady walks over. She attempts to piss standing up. Unsuccessful, she helps to giggle like a schoolgirl. Hillary Clinton walks over. She pulls out a large piece of styrofoam. She stuffs it in your mouth, and you can no longer giggle like a schoolgirl. This tragedy causes your brain to explode. Marcia Brady is now eating pieces of your head. The end. [64] (Oeb) You choose to be buried in Arlington National but the waiting list for people like you doesn't exist. Your corpse rots forgotten and you wish you had been cremated. Due to fact you had no proper burial (or corpse disposal for that matter) your soul wanders around a new existence. It's awfully confusing for you. Go to [99]. [65] (Kyst) Your friends and family journey to Los Crazy Mexican's Upside-Down Burial Parlor to pay their last respects to you. After searching all of Texas for the Burial Parlor you have chosen, they find Los Crazy Mexicans Upside-Down Burial Parlor. The place is a mess, it didn't occur to you that all of the furniture would be on the ceiling and therefore your friends would have nowhere to sit, but oh well, that isn't your problem now, is it? The small crowd gathers around the small chandelier in the center of the room, below your coffin. A priest walks into the room and begins the eulogy in Spanish. Everyone begins to cry and do not notice that a young man is trying to peer into your coffin. This must be Los Crazy Mexican!!! Hadn't someone warned you about him?! Bewildered, your loved ones watch as Los Crazy Mexican opens your coffin. Your corpse spills out and hits the floor with an extremely loud, meaty "THUD!" sound. This "THUD!" apparently awoke the Los Crazy Mexicans Upside-Down Burial Parlor's dog. Startled, he leaps from the corner of the parlor. * If the dog starts humping your family's legs and pissing on your carcass, go to [72]. * If the dog begins to devour your dead body, go to [73]. [66] (Vyrus) "So, you wish to kill Hitler? Are you stupid? This is the 90's, you fucking moron. And you're stuck in a badly written B-Movie by a Quintin Tarentino wanna be@!" Screams. Blackness. You faintly remember passing out and waking up where John Dillinger had pointed a highly advanced sniper rifle in your face. Unfortunately for you, John Dillinger is still there and he proceeds to take your face off with the butt of his shotgun. * If you pick your face back up and smush it back on your skull, go to [68]. * If you use your Boy Scout WannabeMachete to hack HIS face off and put it on your skull, go to [69]. [67] (Vyrus) "NOBODY DOG-NAPPED MY POODLE BITCH@! THAT WAS A TRICK!@# ALL HAIL HITLER AND NOW YOU DIE LIKE THE MUCASY POND SCUM YOU ARE@!" You look at Dr. Debonaire like he's some kind of fucking weirdo, and he seems taken aback. Like, you were supposed to flinch or something? "Fuck you, d00d. I trade warez. I don't do investigations for flamers in velvet red chairs. Your bitch gives good head though." BLAMMO. You're dead. Dr. Debonaire decided that his bitch giving you head wasn't a good thing at all. Either that or he just didn't like you. THE FUCKING END. [68] (Oeb) You quickly reach down to grab your face and smush it back on your skull. Success! The blood dried and clotted just perfectly to hold a permanently disgruntled visage. You, however, realize that John Dillinger is still there and still holding a shotgun -- with intent of using it. You think about pleading for mercy, but what good would it do, your face is permanently marked, "pissed off." John Dillinger promptly sticks the barrel of the gun in your mouth and pulls the trigger removing the head you had just affixed your face onto. And you're sad because life goes on. You end. [69] (Avenger) You now notice the little boy masturbating in the corner, who has eluded your view this entire time. He looks rather happy, and you ask him for a $20 to buy some crack. "Fuck you, jizzsniffer; I've had enough of all your shit; I'm friends with some powerful people, you know! Richard Nixon, Hillary Clinton, and Marcia Brady, just to name a few!" The boy masturbates angrily, to emphasize his words. You find this rather funny, and decide to hack something. Finding nothing to hack, you decide to giggle. yeah. giggle. * If you choose to giggle like a schoolgirl, go to [63]. * If you choose to giggle like a random blunt object, go to [70]. [70] (Avenger) You giggle like a random blunt object. In this case, an 80-lb. UNIX manual. For no good reason, you hear the theme to Rocky IV. Rocky ambles towards you. "hey! i'm here to save philadelphia!" rocky mutters as he punches the small masturbating boy's foot. You decide to ponder why donuts have a hole in them. For desperate guys to fuck? As necklaces for very small Swedes? Richard Nixon and Rocky decide to have an apocalyptic conflict. Oh well, something to pass time. Hmm. This is pretty fucked up. You wonder who invented the donut. You wonder why Rocky has a black eye, 30 years after the filming of the movie. * If you choose to watch Rocky XV and eat paste, go to [71]. * If you choose to molest Richard Nixon and be extremely confused, go to [99]. [71] (Cstone) You grab a random jar of paste and settle down to watch Rocky XV. (Fortunately, it's been years since you've seen any of the Rocky movies, so you're entertained by the movie.) You're so engrossed that you don't notice the peeling red toxic chemical warning label on the jar of paste, and you mistake the burning nausea from the toxins for hunger pains. You die. The end. [72] (Ior) as the dog pisses on your corpse, you suddenly feel strange urges, and are surprised as you reawaken as a vampire! you waste no time in making the dog your vampire slave, and proceed to the rest of your family. you manage to take out your asshole step-father first (you've always had a thing about him), but as you step towards your religious-nut cousin, he pulls out a cross and drives you back! since you're still not used to your new vampire body, you stumble over your own feet and fall backwards onto a strategically placed wooden stake. your body burns up and you know no more. the end. [73] (Kyst) The dog ravenously tears through your rotting flesh. Los Crazy Mexicans Upside-Down Burial Parlor apparently didn't bother to use embalming fluid on you which explains the smell of the place at least. The beast rips you limb from limb, scattering your remains all over your family who shriek with disbelief. The hungry dog shakes you around like a rag-doll, splattering your stringy, gooey remains onto the walls of Los Crazy Mexicans Upside-Down Burial Parlor in this botched attempt to lay your weary body to rest. The end. [74] (LilNilHil) You quickly snap back to your senses and realize you are banging Gary Coleman. Slowly you extract yourself from Gary as to not anger his washed-up security gaurd ass. This does not work, Gary pulls out a gun, the army men pull out more guns, and lot's of people die. Including your lame, homophobic asshole. No one misses you. The end. [75] (Miasma) This dream-like state enables you to go back in time in your mind. You see yourself floating past masturbatory experiments with Pop Rocks when you were 15, masturbatory experiments with Puddles, the neighborhood dog, when you were 14 and masturbatory experiments with two gallons of peach Jello just a couple of days ago. You finally make your way back to the time you got too scared to kiss Melissa Dicter on the lips. There she is standing, wearing a baby tee clinging to her ripe breasts exposing her firm nipples pointing out at you, inviting you, and she's also wearing a pair of jeans hugging ever curve of her body. "Oh God, take me NOW!" she screams at you, her chest heaving, her body yearning. * If you want to grab her, rip off her clothes, and whip out your member, go to [79]. * If you want to tell her "I dunno... what would my mommy say?", go to [80]. [76] (LilNilHil) You begin to see visions of large bouncing percentage symbols singing the oompa loompa song. "This is not good... oh shit," you say, just as a large percentage shaped creature jumps out at you. He has a schlong that can knock over trucks, he's more pissed off than your father was that night at the Browns game, and he's just a bubblin' wif snot. His name is Mister Walltits, and he wants your money. Now. * If you would like to pay Mister Walltits, go to [77]. * If you would like Mister Walltits to go fuck himself, go to [78]. [77] (g0ff) Checking your inventory, you realize that you have 251 gold, an uncursed piece of violet glass, a +2 bullwhip, a tripe ration, and a cheap plastic imitation of the Amulet of Yendor. You drop the gold and walk away, and the hallucinogen-distorted wood-elf takes the money. At that point, you decide to head upstairs and get yourself out of the dungeon. On your way up, you find a temple to Quetzacoatl (Lawful) and decide to take up service as a priest of Quetzacoatl. You live reasonably happy ever after. The end. [78] (Miasma) You turn to this putrid piece of elephant dung and scream "Why don't you go fuck yourself, Mister Walltits!" He looks at you pensively. "Thank you, my good man, thank you. I think I will go fuck myself," he replies. He takes his gigantic schlong... whips it around and inserts it into one of his percentage sign holes. Your eyes explode from this impossible and ludicrous site. Your brain hemorrhages, and after you die, Mister Walltits makes sweet love to your dead carcass. The end. [79] (Soybean) You go to whip out your throbbing, rock-hard wand of light, only to find it breaking off in your hands. Melissa's shrieks in fear, her nipples retreat back into her clingy polyester shirt, and you realize your last shot at becoming a real, sexual human being is lying shriveled, becoming colder and greyer, in the palm of your shaking hand. You collapse in angry, frightened tears -- sobbing so hard you begin to hyperventilate. No oxygen is entering your lungs!!!! You die! The end. [80] (g0ff) You remember that your hat says "WWMS", but, forgetting that it actually stands for "Wild Warez MEoW Society", think to yourself, "What would mommy say?" Mommy would say, "Clean up your room," "Do the dishes, please," or "Don't forget about your homework." Realizing that all these concepts arise from the adage "Finish what you've started," you decide that your mother really would have wanted you to kiss Melissa. You throw your arms around her and get in one brief kiss which lasts but a brief moment. While the kiss is brief, your relationship and love maintain themselves throughout the rest of your lives, and you and Melissa continue to walk the path of life in happy bliss, staying forever away from Advanced Dungeons & Dragons, sports, cheerleaders, and those who form cliques. The end. [99] (Squinky & French Cubist-cum-Futurist Poet Guilliame Apollinare & Metalchic, French Goddess-cum-Squinky's Futurist Wife, Breaking All Of Mogel's Line Restriction Rules) You are weary at last of this ancient world Sheperdess O Eiffel tower whose fock of bridges bleats this morning You are tired of living in this Greek and Roman Antiquity Here even automobiles look old Only religion remains fresh religion as simple as hangars at the airfield Alone in Europe you Christianity are not antique The one modern European is you Pope Pius X And you whom windows watch what shame keeps you From enterting a church and confessing your sins this morning Handbills catalogue advertisements that sing aloud Furnish your morning's poetry and for prose there are newspapers Dime detective novels packed with adventure Biographes of great men a thousand and one titles This morning I saw a fine stree whose name slips my mind New and bright the sun's trumpet Where executives and workers sweet stenographers Hurry every weekday dawn and night Three times a morning sirens groan A choleric bell barks at noon Lettering on billboards and walls Doorplates and posters twitter like parakeets Charm is in this Paris factory street Between rue Aumont-Thievelle and the avenue des Ternes Here is a young street and you still a small child Your mother dresses you only in blue and white You are very pious and with your oldest friend Rene Dalize You like nothing so much as the ceremonies of the church Nine o'clock the gass turns blue you slip out of bed You pray all night in the school chapel While an eternal adorable amethyst depth Christ's flaming halo revolves forever He is the lovely lily we all worship He is the red-haired torch no wind may blow out Pale and scarlet son of the sorrowful mother Tree hung with prayer Twofold gallows of honor and eternity Six-pointed star A God who dies on Friday and rises on Sunday Christ who flies higher than the aviators And holds the world's record for altitude Christ pupil of the eye Twentieth pupil of the centuries he knows his business And changed to a bird this century ascends like Jesus Devils in hell raise their heads to stare They say it imitates Simong Magus in Judea They say if it flies call it a flyer Angels fly past the graceful trapeze artist Icarus Enoch Elijah Apollonius of Tyana Hover near the original airplane Or give place to those whom the Eucharist elevates Priests rising continuously as they raise the Host At last the plane lands with wings outspread Through heaven come flying a million swallows At full speed crows owls falcons Ibises flamingoes storks from Africa Roc so celebrated in song and story Clutching Adam's skull the original head Eagle from the horizon pounces screaming Hummingbird arrives from America From China long supple pihis Who have only one wing and fly in tandem Here comes the dove immaculate spirit Escorted by lyrebird and ocellated peacock That funeral pyre the phoenix engendering himself Momentarily viels all with his ardent ash Sirens quit their perilous perches And arrive each singing beautifully Everyone eagle phoenix pihis Fraternizes with the flying machine Now you stride alone through the Paris crowds Busses in bellowing herds roll by Love's anguish tights in your throat As if you could never be loved again In the old days you would have entered the monastery With shame you ctch yourself praying Or jeer and your laughter crackles like hellfire It sparks gild the depths of your life Which like a painting in a somber museum You approach sometimes to peer at closely Today you stroll through Paris the women are all covered in blood It was and I would prefer not to remember it was in beauty's decline From fervent flames Our Lady gazed down on me in Chartres Your Sacred Heart's blood drowned me in Montmarte I am sick of hearing pleasant words My love is a shameful sickness You are sleepless anguished but possessed by an image Which hovers never distant Now you are by the Mediterranean Under lemon trees that flower all year long With your friends you board a ship One from Nice one from Menton two from La Turbie We see terrified in the depths giant squid And fish the Savior's symbols gliding through seaweed You are in a tavern near Prague You feel happy instad of writing your stories in prose You stare at a rose on the table and a rosebug asleep in the rose's heart Horrified you trace your likeness in the agates of Saint Vitus You almost died of grief that day you saw yourself portrayed as Lazarus blinded by daylight The hands of the clock in the Jewish quarter run backwards You also slowly creep backwards through life Climbing to the Hradchen listening at twilight To Czech songs from the taverns You are in Marseilles among piles of watermellons You are in Coblenz at the Giant's hotel You are in Rome sitting under a Japanese medlar tree You in Amsterdam with a girl you find pretty but who is ugly And engaged to a student from Leyden One can rent rooms there in Latin Cubuicula locanda I remember three days there and three at Gouda You are in Paris arraigned before the judge Arrested like a criminal You went on sad and merry journeys Before growing aware of lies and old age Love made you unhappy at twenty again at thirty I have lived like a fool and wasted my youth You no longer dare examine your hands and at any moment I could weep Over you over her whom I love over all that has frightened you With tears in your eyes you see the poor emigrants Who have faith in God and pray the mothers nurse their children Their smell fills the waiting room at the gare St. Lazare Like the three kings they believe in a star Hope to strike it rich in ARgentina And return home wealthy One family carries a crimson quilt as you carry your heart Quilt and our dreams are equally unreal Some of these emigrants stay on and lodge In slums on the rue des Rosiers or the rue des Ecouffes I have seen them often walking at dusk They keep close to home like chessmen And are mostly Jewish their wives wear wigs Pallid they sit at the back of little shops You stand at the counter of a dirty bar You have a coffee for two sous with the other riffraff You are in a huge restaurant at night These women are not evil only wornout Each has made her lover suffer even the ugliest Who is the daughter of a policeman on the Isle of Jersey Her hands which I had not noticed are calloused and cracked The scars on her belly fill me with immense pity I humble my mouth by offering it to a poor slut with a horrible laugh You are alone when morning comes Milkmen clink bottles on the street Night leaves like a lovely Metive Ferdine the false or watchful Lea You sip a liquor that burns like your life Your life you drain like an eau-de-vie You stride home to Auteuil To sleep among your fetishes from Oceania or Guinea Other forms of Christ and other faiths Lesses Christ of lesser aspirations Adieu Adieu The sun a severed neck THE END !!========================================================================!! !! (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! #400, WRITTEN BY VARIOUS ARTISTS, 1/4/98 !!