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    `8a                   "8888888888I      a8'   Writers:
     `Yba                  `Y8888888P'    adP'    aster
       "Yba                 `888888P'   adY"      Gnarly Wayne
         `"Yba,             d8888P" ,adP"'        BMC
            `"Y8baa,      ,d888P,ad8P"'    
 -    -   -  - -``""YYba8888P""''===================------- -- -  -   -    -
   MARCH 30, 2003              INSTALLMENT 232         BMC, EDITOR-IN-CHIEF
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                         FEATURED IN THIS INSTALLMENT:

                              once lies - aster
                        English and Me - Gnarly Wayne
                     The Adventures of Pumpkin Pie - BMC


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                                EDITOR'S NOTE

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  I think that right now things are going swimmingly.

  aster and Gnarly Wayne have been so good as to submit stories for this
  issue.  They are so good, in fact, that I wrote a special story in tribute
  (plagiarism).

  It's like a fun game.  Let's play.


 -    -   -  - -- -------===========================------- -- -  -   -    -

                              once lies - aster

 -    -   -  - -- -------===========================------- -- -  -   -    -

  certain that she could make her way, the little girl stepped out onto
  the single stone in the middle of the river, balanced on one small
  toe, and let her dress fly up in the breeze, like curtains across open
  windows at 6 o clock in june or 4 o clock in august and sometime in
  between is when the wind changes and yesterday they destroyed a car,
  turning it on its back like an exposed turtle, who sits on the rocks to
  sun itself.


 -    -   -  - -- -------===========================------- -- -  -   -    -

                        English and Me - Gnarly Wayne

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  I am an English major and as such, am expected to have quite the command
  of the English language even though, thus far, I've only taken a few
  English classes.  Everyone still expects me to know everything about
  grammar and punctuation and all that like there.  Even when I was younger,
  I was expected to excel in my native language.  My parents pushed me hard
  from birth to grasp our spoken tongue like none other.  I thought it maybe
  a tad much when they pushed my first word to be caryatid, but I did not
  question their logic.  As time progressed, my parents starting pushing me
  harder and harder.

  My first Speak N' Spell was rigged up to a clever taser system devised by
  my father.  Whenever an incorrect spelling happened, it was doubly
  insulting.  First was the soul shattering beep of discontent from the
  Speak N' Spell followed by 500 volts of pure electricity.  For most of my
  kindergarten year, I had little hair and a bad case of the shakes.  On
  family game night, the game of Scrabble quickly became a source of terror
  for me.  If I did not score at least 15 points per word, my mother would
  whip out the cat-o-nine tails and I'd get one lashing for each point I was
  away from 15.  The scars on my face did not heal until I was twenty-one.

  I dreaded coming home for lunch during grade school as I knew I would be
  subjected to yet another bowlful of alphabet soup.  If I did not form a
  word of at least six characters in length in under the allotted thirty
  seconds, my mother would give me some bad ectasty.  It made learning in
  the afternoon very difficult to say the least.  My worst memory is of the
  Grade 6 spelling bee where my dad had a 7.62mm SVD Dragunov sniper rifle
  trained on my temples.  Every so often, he would lower the high powered
  rifle and run his finger across his throat in a slitting motion.

  Now well into adulthood, I guess I can't hold too much again them.  I know
  they were just doing it because they wanted me to be the best I could be.
  Now I have quite a good grasp of English, though at the cost of having
  very little knowledge or common sense in any other area.  All in all, I
  still think I turned out alright, don't you, guys?

  Guys?


 -    -   -  - -- -------===========================------- -- -  -   -    -

                     The Adventures of Pumpkin Pie - BMC

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  One fresh spring afternoon, Pumpkin Pie put on her spring dress and her
  spring bonnet and tied her spring kerchief in a bow around her neck.  It
  was the middle of spring.  Pumpkin Pie opened the door and walked outside
  of her house and into a big beautiful spring meadow.

  "Ahh, what a beautiful spring day," she said.  And it was.  It was a
  beautiful day and it was spring.

  A soft breeze brushed against her face as she ran through the meadow,
  skipping and singing.

  "La!"

  As she skipped and sang she swung a hand-woven basket in her hand.  At the
  end of the meadow she reached a country road.  She began to follow the
  road, and before long, a car came by.

  In the car was a man named Charlsie.  He said, "Hello, I am Charlsie.
  Would you like a ride?"  Pumpkin Pie said yes, and as they began to drive
  away, Charlsie ran his hand softly along the curve of her hand-woven
  basket.

  Charlsie and Pumpkin Pie eventually reached the city and Pumpkin Pie got
  out of the car.  She walked down the stone-paved streets, in between brick
  and mortar buildings.  She kept walking and walking until she reached the
  centre of the city.  When she got there she looked at the sundial and
  decided to wait for thirty minutes.

  The middle of the city was beautiful, with guildhalls and arcades and
  statues and steeples and belltowers.

  Fifteen minutes later, a man in a black jacket came up and gave her some
  money.  In return, she gave him what was in her hand-woven basket.  Then
  the man in the black jacket told her that he was an undercover police
  officer and that she was under arrest for drug trafficking.  She tried to
  run, so I sniped her at 700 metres from the belltower across the big,
  beautiful, spring courtyard.


 -    -   -  - -- -------===========================------- -- -  -   -    -
                     
  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
  <http://www.neo-comintern.com>.

  Submissions of 25-4000 words are wanted; the average article length is
  approximately 200-1000 words.  Send submissions via email attachment to
  <bmc@neo-comintern.com>, 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                                            #232-03/30/03
  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.

