,,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 6 7 `-' J A N U A R Y 1 0 , 2 0 0 4 B M C , E D I T O R - I N - C H I E F FEATURED IN THIS INSTALLMENT: the treassure collector - aster the deal - Ahmed Balfouni Fifth Anniversary - Gnarly Wayne _/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_ EDITOR'S KNOWTE This issue is for the lover in you. If there is, in fact, a lover on the inside of you, let them out so they can read this. Because it is good. I am true. I am eating cookies. Oh yes, one more thing. The 9th issue of The Neo-Comintern is now available for purchase. Whoo-hoo! This 20-page gem features the best writing and layout yet found in N-Com print issues. From the spectacular limited-edition glossy cover to the great fiction and comics, this is worth any zine reader's time and money. This issue features writing by the N-Com staff, along with guest appearances by AlterEcho, aster, cv.crud, gir, Jet Jaguar, and linear. The stars shine bright o'er the N-Com 2nite. Check out our ordering page. Don't get hoodwinked! And now, on with the issue! _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ \"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._ _.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/ " " " " " " " """"" " " " " " " " _/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_ the treassure collector by aster _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ \"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._ _.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/ " " " " " " " """"" " " " " " " " once upon a time, in the great land beneath our land, in the land where the little men of blue eyes, black skin, and yellow hair reside, in the land of yesterdays not todays, there lived a mouse named ralph. ralph lived in a little house he made from matchsticks (those big long ones, you know?) and bits of fleece from an old jacket, and bits of cardboard from a box that once held bananas. his front door was the B from the banana box. ralph was a treassure collector. every day he went scavenging for a new treassure, something colorful or not or shiny or not or sharp or dull or soft or sturdy or somehow useful or somehow not. he always found something. every day he returned to his home with something to add to his collection. he was a very organized mouse. everything was filed according to size and colour, and everything was assigned a number devised from the date (in New Underground Years; N.U.Y.) and the location where he found it. when the screaming men came to visit him he always invited them in and gave them a gift of a silver ring, or a blue plastic crochet needle, or rat's bone. they always wanted to make sure he was not collecting Working Men, the little robots who cleaned the streets in the great land beneath, because they were for cleaning, not collecting. and they always seemed to go missing. but ralph always assured them he would not pick up a working Working Man and always let them look over his collection. on food days, when the markets filled the streets, ralph often traded his treassures for good bits of food or for other useful things, like information, or hugs, or a service. once he wanted a new chair, so he traded the furniture maker several brightly-painted popsicle sticks and some miniture hinges he had found. the furniture maker made him a First-Class chair, as the miniture hinges were of quite high value. the chair was covered in soft red fleece and was very comfy and useful. ralph never needed to trade for things because he could always find the things he needed. ralph never much liked the screaming men, and they didnt like him. they never knew him to do anything wrong, so they couldnt drag him away into their dark mud pits where they ruined forever the nice things you had and doomed you to life as a lurker and stealer and all around lowlife. ralph thought they were usually wrong and plus they had ugly hair. one day when ralph was walking home after a long day of scavenging, he met peter, his best friend in the world. peter used to be a screaming man, but he left and decided to become a whistler instead. ralph invited peter home for a dinner of purple fish and he let peter sit in his new chair. peter liked the chair a lot, and ralph let him sleep in it that night. peter left a note when he left to go on his travels early in the morning: dear friend ralph, thank you for the chair-sleeping and the fish-eating you are my best friend ever in the world -peter the whistler ralph didnt see peter until 5 years, 4 months, and 19 days later when ralph was walking to the market and a strange rat jumped out of the road, seeming to attack ralph. ralph turned to escape but before he could take a step a knife was in front of his face and he was dieing from the cuts and his best friend in the world ever (peter) was smiling and wishing him a grand goodbye. the rat was marvin, the nice old rat down the road, jumping in the save ralph from the knife. but ralph died. the end _/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_ the deal by Ahmed Balfouni _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ \"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._ _.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/ " " " " " " " """"" " " " " " " " I think I'm like an ink spot on the rug of life says the fellow turn me any which way over I'm there _/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"-._/"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_.-"\_ Fifth Anniversary by Gnarly Wayne _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ \"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._\"-._ _.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/_.-"/ " " " " " " " """"" " " " " " " " Hank entered the room with heavy shoulders and a tired sigh. His wife Greta was lounging in the easy chair, reading some romance novel and playing with her brown curls. "So Hank, what we should do to celebrate our fifth anniversary?" asked Greta. "Come on, Greta, git into the truck," Hank said. "Why? Where are we going?" grinned Greta. "Just git into the truck," Hank said wearily. Greta complied. As Hank started the pickup up, Greta looked around for her seatbelt, which was missing. "Hank, my seatbelt is missing," said Greta. Hank gave no reply. "Hank, I really should have a seatbelt." Hank responded, "It's not far. Don't worry about it." Greta shuffled in her seat. She started talking about her day, while Hank was content to stare at the road. After about 5 minutes, Hank leaned over and turned the "Passenger Airbag" switch to the OFF position. "Hank, what did you do that for?" asked Greta. Hank remained silent. "Hank, I'm starting to get a little nervous. Could you also slow down a bit? You're speeding." Still, no reply. "Hank, please tell me where we are going. You're scaring me. I don't have a seatbelt and no airbag and you're going too fast and..." "shut up," Hank whispered. "just....shut....the....hell....up." A moment passed. Greta said, "But Hank..." Hank started pounding the steering column with his hands and head. "SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP For the love of God, SHUT THE HELL UP!" Hank bellowed. They continued on in silence. Eventually, Greta spoke. "hank?", she said, no louder than a slight summer breeze. Hank cranked hard on the steering wheel down a side road. The little pickup bounced up and down on the crumbled unused path. Greta folded her arms around herself and closed her eyes in fright. Hank finally stopped in front of an old delerict house. "Get out," said Hank. Greta didn't move. Hank exited the vehicle, went around to the passenger door, and proceeded to haul Greta out. "Into the house," Hank ordered. Greta began to weep softly. "Hank, I don't want..." "INTO THE HOUSE NOW!" Hank screamed. Head down, Greta made her way into the house. The front door creaked opened and a musty smell assaulted her nostrils. They entered the shack. It was pitch black inside. Hank shut the door behind them and all Greta could hear was his shallow breathing. As the lights came on, a dozen people shouted "SURPRISE!" Greta saw the faces of all their friends and family. "Oh Hank, my darling! You really had me going--" Greta stopped in midsentence when she saw the look of shock on Hank's face. She then noticed the bloody butcher's knife fall from his hand, rotating slowly before hitting the ground with a dull clang. .-. .-. / \ .-. .-. / \ / \ / \ .-. _ .-. / \ / \ `-------\-------/-----\-----/---\---/-\---/---\-----/-----\-------/-------' \ / \ / `-' `-' \ / \ / \ / `-' `-' \ / `-' `-' 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 2004 by #267-01/10/04 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.