,,ggddY""""Ybbgg,, ,agd""' `""bg, T H E N E O - C O M I N T E R N ,gdP" "Ybg, ,dP" ""` ,dP" _,,ddP"""Ybb,,_ .s*""*s .s*"*s. ,8" .+$ '""' `"Yb, .P' $ `.d' `b ,8' .+$$$$ssss+. sssss "'d' .sssP d' `b db. ,8' .+$$$$$$$$$$$$$$+. $$$$$ d' ,P' d' s*s $ d' `b d.+$$$$$$$$$$$$$$`*$$$$+.$$$$$$$$$ $ :$ d'.P .Pd' $ _ 8`*$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ o`*$$$$$$$$ T. `b. :$ TsP .Pd' $ .+P"*+. 8 `*$$$$$$$$$$$ OOb.`*$$$$$ T. `^**sT. .Pd' . $ .+P' :P 8 `*$$$$ YOOOObooi `b. $ T. .P'd' .P $P' .P' 8 `*$ "OQQQO" `TsggsP `TssP' d' .PT. . .P' Y, i. aP ,P d .P :$b+.d' .P' `8, "Ya aP" ,8' d; .P .d' .P' `8, "Yb,_ _,dP" ,8' `*TP .d' .P' `8a `""YbbgggddP""' a8' d; .P' `Yba adP' `*TP' "Yba adY" `"Yba, ,adP"' `"Y8ba, ,ad8P"' E L E C T R O N I C M A G A Z I N E ``""YYbaaadPP""'' .-. t h e l i t e r a r y m o l o t o v c o c k t a i l .-. / \ .-. .-. / \ / \ / \ .-. _ .-. / \ / \ `-------\-------/-----\-----/---\---/-\---/---\-----/-----\-------/-------' \ / \ / `-' `-' \ / \ / \ / `-' `-' \ / `-' I N S T A L L M E N T N U M B E R 2 5 8 `-' O C T O B E R 9 , 2 0 0 3 B M C , E D I T O R - I N - C H I E F FEATURED IN THIS INSTALLMENT: Alien Schoolboy - Gnarly Wayne the town crier - Ahmed Balfouni Notes from a Sunset Rider - BMC _/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_ EDITOR'S KNOWTE Welcome to another galaxy. A galaxy of sight and sound and articles. This week we have a story, a poem, and an article, all filed nicely in separate compartments. A microwave dinner of literature, if you will. These are the infinitely funny pages. Your laughter will never end. This issue exists. You exist. The reality of existence is just right. In joy. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ \"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._ _.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/ " " " " " " " """"" " " " " " " " _/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_ Alien Schoolboy by Gnarly Wayne _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ \"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._ _.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/ " " " " " " " """"" " " " " " " " The teacher looked up from his desk as the student meekly slunk into the classroom and attempted to take his seat. The teacher cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Brett. Could you come up to my desk, please?" Brett turned around and slowly walked up to the teacher's desk. "Ummm.. yessir?" asked Brett. "Could you please explain to me why you are late?" "Ummm. well. you see. I was caught in a tornado." "A tornado, Brett? .. Really?" the teacher said monotonously. A beep flashed from Brett's wristwatch and he heard a metallical female voice in his head. "Warning: the tornadoes on Terra can reach upwards of 85km/h. Without your grav boots, it would have surely blown you away. Excuse invalid. TactCom suggests redirectional discussion protocol. Punishment eminent." Brett said, "Actually teacher, I was at the local movie show." "Really? What movie?", the teacher asked. "Ummmm..errr.. The Matrix 5: Neo Fights?" replied Brett. "Brett, that movie won't be out for another 24 years!" said the teacher. "WHAT?" Brett screamed. "What year is this?" "It's 2003," replied the teacher. "Oh just great. Just a minute." Brett pushed a button his wristwatch and was rewarded with a bevy of flickering lights. "TactCom, this is Agent X34-G. Retriangulate the 4D space time coordinates. I'm about 50 standard years off course. X34-G out." Another push of the button ended the parade of dancing lights. Brett addressed everyone in the room. "I'm really very sorry, everyone. Seems like there was a small error in the computing of my destination. You see, I'm an evil alien being sent back in time to infiltrate and spy on the population of Earth. Our mission is to gather data on the military might of the planet so that we may plan our massive attack accordingly. But no need to worry about that, it is about 50 years in your future. I must return to the Central Matrix and be recalibrated." With these words, Brett spun around and walked directly out the door and down the hallway. Outside the school, Brett's friend Stephen run up to him. "So, you got your teacher to let you out of class so you could come play video games?" Stephen asked. Brett nodded and then muttered to himself. "Yep. Oldest trick in the book." _/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_ the town crier by Ahmed Balfouni _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ \"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._ _.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/ " " " " " " " """"" " " " " " " " has a brass bell clanging in his mouth or hers he accosts you standing there or in a chair or on the march from very far away or she does _/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_ Notes from a Sunset Rider by BMC _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ \"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._ _.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/ " " " " " " " """"" " " " " " " " Ah waz ridin mah horse across the desert and ah come upon somethin real strange. Somethin real interestin was goin through mah head and ah come tah thinkin. Why is it that when ah pick up and leave some town so's ah'cn move on with mah life, ah always leave come 6pm or so, just around the time the townsfolk look out at me and think since ah'm heading West ah'm ridin intah the sunset. All the townsfolk say they're rightly sad tah see me go, but it kinda makes them happy tah see me ride out this way with the settin sun right ahead of me and all. So ah keep doin it every time fer them, all the while keepin it secret to mahself how much ah hate ridin into the sunset. Ah'll try'n explain it tah y'all, but ah don't reckon y'all'll understand what ah'm sayin, since y'all ain't real cowboys. First of all, it ain't no fun ridin into the sunset because yer lookin right inta the sun and it hurts yer eyes real bad. So yah pull yer hat way down in front, so's tah give yer eyes some shadow, but as soon as yah try'n look tah see where yer goin, those golden rays shoot right up yer eyeholes and make yah wish yah weren't never born, and neither was yer horse. Second it's real dark at night, and kinda scary out in the desert. Since the sun's already settin when yah leave, it gets dark real fast and yer scared, cowpoke. Now there's nothing tah do but stop ridin, tie up yer horse, start a fire, set up camp, pull out yer blanket, sit on a rock, cook some beans, and maybe sing a little yippie-tie-yie-yo. In the mean, yah hope there ain't no rattlesnake tanight tah come up and take a bite at you or yer horse. Sometimes ah reckon the better thing tah do would be waitin till sundown and then spendin the night in town at some fine hoorhouse, get a good meal and some whiskey, a nice girl, a good sleep in a comfertable bed, and then leave first thing in the mornin and get a jump on the day. But no, that's never gonna happen. The townsfolk think yer yellow, cuz instead of ridin intah the sunset, yer ridin away from the sunrise like some crazy cowboy vampire or somethin. So yah really got tah leave around 6pm. And if yah think that's the only problem, yer mistaken. Because if yer ridin intah the sun, that means yer headin West. But what if yah want tah head East? Sometimes yah gotta get sick of headin West all the time and want to go back to someplace you've been before, like maybe the place yer from or somewhere where yah made yerself some friends. Well if yah want tah head East, there's this downright nasty thing, ah think the cityfolk call it daylight savins time. So when yah head out East yah lose time off yer day and end up stayin up till all hours of the night and wakin up real late too. Not such a good thing when yer sleepin in the desert, let me tell yah. yer up at four even though the sun set at eight, and when yah wake up the next afternoon a rattlesnake already bit you and yer horse. That there's just a few words on ridin into the sunset fer what it's worth. Ah just thought ah'd write it up fer the New Mexico Daily Telegraph as a favour to the editor and to make a few extra bucks tah pay off this here gamblin debt ah've gotten mahself inta. Mah name's Billy Blackwell, and ah'll be in town fer the next few weeks if anyone needs a hired gun or a helpin hand on their ranch. .-. .-. / \ .-. .-. / \ / \ / \ .-. _ .-. / \ / \ `-------\-------/-----\-----/---\---/-\---/---\-----/-----\-------/-------' \ / \ / `-' `-' \ / \ / \ / `-' `-' \ / `-' `-' The Neo-Comintern Magazine / Online Magazine is seeking submissions. Unpublished stories and articles of an unusual, experimental, or anti-capitalist nature are wanted. Contributors are encouraged to submit works incorporating any or all of the following: Musings, Delvings into Philosophy, Flights of Fancy, Freefall Selections, and Tales of General Mirth. The more creative and astray from the norm, the better. For examples of typical Neo-Comintern writing, see our website at . Submissions of 25-4000 words are wanted; the average article length is approximately 200-1000 words. Send submissions via email attachment to , or through ICQ to #29981964. Contributors will receive copies of the most recent print issue of The Neo-Comintern; works of any length and type will be considered for publication in The Neo-Comintern Online Magazine and/or The Neo-Comintern Magazine. .-. .-. .-. .-. .-. .-. .-. .-. .-. .--/---\---/---\---/---\---/---\---/---\---/---\---/---\---/---\---/---\--. `-' `-' `-' `-' `-' `-' `-' `-' `-' `-' ___________________________________________________ | THE COMINTERN IS AVAILABLE ON THE FOLLOWING BBSES | |~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~| | TWILIGHT ZONE (905) 432-7667 | | BRING ON THE NIGHT (306) 373-4218 | | CLUB PARADISE (306) 978-2542 | | THE GATEWAY THROUGH TIME (306) 373-9778 | |___________________________________________________| | Website at: http://www.neo-comintern.com | | Questions? Comments? Submissions? | | Email BMC at bmc@neo-comintern.com | |___________________________________________________| | The Current Text Scene : http://www.textscene.com | |___________________________________________________| .-. .-. .-. .-. .-. .-. .-. .-. .-. .--/---\---/---\---/---\---/---\---/---\---/---\---/---\---/---\---/---\--. `-' `-' `-' `-' `-' `-' `-' `-' `-' `-' copyright 2003 by #258-10/09/03 the neo-comintern All content is property of The Neo-Comintern. You may redistribute this document, although no fee can be charged and the content must not be altered or modified in any way. Unauthorized use of any part of this document is prohibited. All rights reserved. Made in Canada. By Canadians. And a couple Others.