### ### ### ### ### #### ### ### ### #### ### ### ##### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ##### ### ### ########## ### ### ########## ### ### ### ### Underground eXperts United Presents... ####### ## ## ####### # # ####### ####### ####### ## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## #### ## ## #### # # ####### ####### ####### ## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ## ## ####### ####### # # ####### ####### ####### [ Frozen Dreams ] [ By The GNN ] ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ "FROZEN DREAMS" by THE GNN/DualCrew-Shining/uXu "I am the ice cream man I am a one-man band" (Tom Waits) The clerk laughed. At first I thought he found my ancient clothes amusing, like everybody else apparently did around here. "Bus driver?", he asked me with that new dialect that I had not gotten myself used to yet. "Yes..." I answered and realized that I had made a fool of myself. Luckily, there was only me and the clerk present in the office, so I had no reason to feel completely ashamed. The follow-up question was even worse. "Do not tell me you are trained to drive a bus that is powered by petrol?" "Actually." Oh, how the clerk laughed. He leaned over the table, the he threw his body backwards and almost fell to the shiny floor before he buried his face in his hands. His laughter echoed, danced around in the room and smacked my ears. He calmed down for a second and looked up from his hands. "...and... YOU... want a JOB?" he screamed and began to laugh hysterically again. I tried to remain cool. People with a good attitude and a 'professional' look always get what they want, I pondered. "Yes, I want a job." I answered and smiled friendly. "SUCKER! HA HA HA!" My idea of a professional look obviously failed. The sad truth had to be that there actually was not any need for bus drivers. Even those who knew how to drive a bus that runs on petrol. "What else can you do?" the clerk asked me while giggling like a madman. His stocky body went up and down in the chair. "Uhm... er... well..." The clerk suddenly turned dead serious and tapped with his fingers on the table. "Well? What can you do (except for driving a bus that runs on petrol)?" I did not know what to answer. I had no real profession except for driving a bus. "Nothing, I suppose?" he concluded and sighed. "I guess the only chance for you to become someone in this world is to educate yourself. How old are you by the way?" "Two-hundred and five years old!" "Very funny." "Fifty-five." The clerk placed his hands on his impressive stomach. "I am sorry, but we do not educate people who are over fifty years old. New policy." "But they did that..." "...THEN yes, but not NOW." Silence. We just sat there, me and him, looking at each other. The clerk continued with his annoying habit of tapping his fingers on the desk again. It was obvious that the conversation was over. Outside, I met a friend from the past. He told me that there was no job available for him either, since the twenty-first century had no use for computer programmers who only knew Cobol and C. Together we walked to the nearest pub to have a cold beer, while talking about what a worthless idea it had been to pay thousands of dollars for a coffin of ice nineteen ninety four. Eternal life, what a joke. But hey, dreams are never what you expect them to be. ////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// Uncle Sam does the best he can. A pleasure dome: ETEXT.ARCHIVE.UMICH.EDU /pub/Zines/UXU \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ Hey ho, let's go. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- uXu #225 Underground eXperts United 1994 uXu #225 Call RIPCO ][ -> +1-312-528-5020 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------