=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= "Miss Adams and the Granted Permissions" ---------------------------------------- The time was 8.59 in the morning, and she was late for work. A quick breakfast, an even quicker shower and then she had to rush. But just as she was about to touch the handle and leave her little apartment, someone rang on her door bell. She sighed and opened the door. "Miss Adams!" the little man saluted her. He wore a grey suit and in his hand he had a little briefcase. Behind him stood another man, wearing the same type of clothes and smiling like a lunatic. "Yes, how pleased to meet you, who-ever-you-are," said (Miss) Jessica Adams, "but I'm in a quite of a hurry right now..." "Ah, but I have wonderful news for you!" said the little man. "Wonderful news?" The little man balanced his suitcase on the top of his right leg, opened it, and brought up a paper. He looked up, while fumbling with a pen, and said: "Oh, you really gonna like this, really, really gonna..." "I sure hope so. I'm really, really late for work..." "Work?" the little man asked, looking quite surprised. "Yes. Work." "How strange. Thought people of your kind didn't go to work. Anyway..." He began to read from the paper, with a very formal voice: "The State has today (there's a date here too, Miss Adams, but I guess you know which date it's today) granted Miss Jessica Adams the permission to fulfil that desire she expressed in her application form (A435). If she is not able to fulfil that desire she expressed in her application form (A435), The State will arrange all the help needed for fulfilling that desire she expressed in her application form (A435)." The little man looked at her, his eyes wide open and a huge smile on his face. Jessica looked at the little man, completely confused. "Application form?" she asked. "A435." "Granted?" "Yes, yes!" "Desire?" "Suicide." "What!?" she screamed. The little man almost fell into the arms of the man behind him. She was about to shut the door and forget about the encounter with the little man, but she knew that she had to find out what was going on. "Listen," she said after she had calmed down, "I'm not in the mood for a suicide. And I've never been." "Oh, yes you have. Five years ago, you sent this application form to..." "Five years ago!? Five years!" "The State works slowly, but effectively." She had a flashback. Sitting in a empty bar, feeling low since she had been unfaithful to her husband, drinking bad whiskey, crying, feeling sad because he had left her, signing some paper, giving it to some man that resembled her of a rock-n-roll priest, going home, waking up, feeling better (if one does not count the hangover), forgetting it all; end of flashback. "Alrighty then, I sent you, uh, The State, whoever, a paper five years ago, but I've changed my mind. I wanna live, okay?" The little man raised his hand. "Perhaps this will change your mind!" he said and snapped his fingers. The other man, still smiling, stepped forward and opened up a briefcase in front of her face. "A fine set of tools, don't you say?" said the little man. She looked into the briefcase. It contained one pistol, one revolver, a long rope, one injection needle, a hammer and a nail, one dynamite stick (and a match box), pills, some strange white powder, car keys, subway tickets, a long hose and a box with two cables coming out of it ("Harry's Portable Electrocution Chair"). "Thanks, but no thanks." "But! I can assure you, these are the best available..." She shut the door. Looking through the little peep hole, she saw the man walk away with his companion and the briefcases. "Thank God..." she mumbled and took a deep breath. She was about to leave the apartment for work, when the door bell rang again. Violently, she opened the door. "Didn't I just say that I didn't want..." Outside the door stood two other men. They also wore grey suits, big smiles and suitcases. "Miss Adams!" one of them saluted her. "What it is now?" The man who had saluted her snapped his fingers. The other man opened up his suitcase. It contained one pistol, one revolver, etcetera. "Your ex-husband (Pete Adams) has been granted permission to fulfil his desire, that he expressed in his application form, five years ago. However, since he's unavailable today, he will not be able to fulfil his desire by himself. So The State will do it for him." "Let me guess: he has been granted the permission to commit suicide? By the way, what has that got to do with me?" The man laughed and shook his head. "No, no, Miss Adams. Not suicide. Homicide." gnn =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = Questions, Comments, Bitches, Ideas, Rants, Death Threats, etc etc... = = Internet : jericho@dimensional.com (Mail is welcomed) = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = gote land +27.31.441115 = = Arrested Development +31.77.3547477 = = Global Chaos +61.2.681.2837 = = Chemical Persuasion 203.324.0894 Undrgrnd Indust/Inc. 207.490.2158 = = Damnation 212.861.0580 that stupid place 215.985.0462 = = Hacker's Haven 303.516.9969 Unearthly Shadows 303.683.1443 = = E.L.F. (NUP) 314.272.3426 Misery 318.625.4532 = = Dungeon Sys. 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