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From: pHant <[email protected]>
Newsgroups: alt.hackers.malicious
Subject: Sn1ffed Chat Log 22
Followup-To: alt.hackers.malicious,alt.jedi-of-ro0t
Date: Wed, 28 Feb 2001 16:44:58 +1000
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Gortician: Hey! Man, look up! Are you alive?

M:<yumyumyum...snort...yumyumyum....gobble....yumyumyumyumyum...burp!!!>

G: Never seen a man facedown in the Cajun pudding. You do know that
shit has bourbon in it?

M: Hehehehehe ............... got any more?

G: Sorry, no. I guess I could get my old lady to make some more and
send it here but it'll take time. And money.

M: Shit! I do NOT believe this. I need to call my travel agent, go
back to Florida and get some key lime pies and some o' those chocolate
chimichangas just to SURVIVE.

G: Why don't you just bake some cookies, dude?

M: I'm far too busy spanking trolls and cens-- cleaning up usenet to
be slaving over a hot stove. But what are YOU doing here, Jason?

G: Well, man. These ain't the best of times. Turns out I never got
around to copyrighting any of my tunes and some dickhead on usenet is
gonna do it before I can get to it. And I was smoking some dope back
home and got paranoid, got to thinkin', maybe fuckin' with a cop
weren't the smartest thing I ever did. So...............here I am.
Cambridge. Yale. MIT. Harvard. You could call me a junkie but I prefer
to think of myself as an entepreneur.

M: Whoa.......... thought I had troubles. You got any cookies or pie?

G: No, man. Sorry.

M: <sighs, looks at overflowing trash container, peers inquisitively
at G>

Is that a Ring-Ding wrapper?

G: Yeah, but like, there was only one. I don't HAVE any more
Ring-Dings.

M: Bring me that wrapper, boy.

G: <snort> You want my discarded Ring-Ding wrapper - here. I suppose
you want an autograph to go with it.

M: <licking chocolate off wrapper, eyes closed, whispers> Ma-Ma.

G: Damn, you just as fucked-up as they say. If I had a camcorder, I'd
tape that and sell it to the highest bidder.

M: Shut up, boy. How late do you plan to be doing your drum solos
tonight? I have some business calls to make.

G: Yeah, like, I can hear your phone ringing over here for the last
hour. Nonstop. Somebody REALLY wants to talk to you.

M: <sob> Rikijo.

G: Oh fuck - say it ain't so.

M: It's him.

G: Hell, he might be comin' after my ass too. IF he finds out I made
500 bucks using the Wicked Samurai logo on my mp3s.

M: Are you fucking kidding me?

G: <laughs uncontrollably> I might be...... preying, on your horror!

M: <stands up, pulls chair off ass> I need to be going. Thank you for
the pudding.

G: Thanks for the C-note, dude.

M: Oh, hell. I have to call Blau, too. BLAGH!!!!!!! But wait .........
I disconnected my phone before I went out. You said it was ringing?

G: Off the wall, bro. Threw my timing way outa whack.

M: Is this the fucking Twilight Zone? That's impossible.

G: Maybe I'm feasting, on your fear. Bwahahahahaha!

M: You stop fucking with me, Swamp Thang!

G: <drum roll> I could be festering, on your sores.

M: SHUT UP!

<waddles out, slams door>

<RRRRRING!!!!!>

VOICEMAIL: Collect call from Oshawa....collect call from Oshawa
......collect call.........

M: OH MY GOD! I'm being STALKED! I am a VICTIM!!!!!


--

pH1