There Ain't No Justice Number 024

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OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO oOOOO OOOO. OOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" .OOOOOO OOOOOo OOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOO oOOOOOOO OOOOOOO. OOOO oOOOO OOOO .OOOO OOOO OOOOOOOOo OOOO OOOO" OOOO oOOOO OOOO OOOO "OOOO. OOOO OOOOo .OOOO' OOOO .OOOO" OOOO OOOO OOOOoOOOO "OOOO. oOOOO OOOO oOOOOOOO..OOOO OOOO "OOOOOOO OOOOoOOOO" OOOO .OOOO"""OOOOOOOO OOOO OOOOOO "OOOOOOO' OOOO oOOOO ""OOOO OOOO "OOOO OOOOOO |-----------------------------------------------------------------------------| | | | There Ain't No Justice | | | | #24 | | | |-----------------------------------------------------------------------------| The Night That Changed My Life by Locutus of Borg ********************: A DISCLAIMER! READ FIRST, EH! This story is mostly ficticious. Well, somewhat. Most have the events have base in actual real-life situations. I guess it would be better to present them in actual, uneditied form, but where's the fun in that? And any resemblance to people living or dead is entirely there for a reason, so zark off. OK, enough with this silly gunk, on with the text! --------------------------------------------------------------------------* It was a dark and stormy night. Well, actually, it was dark and rather clear. A little too humid, but overall rather nice out. That whole stormy bit was just included for effect, so there. Anyhow, this fateful night began as I was driving down a bumpy country road in my jesus-mobile. (nickname is from my job: a door-to-door Home Crucifixion Kit salesman). As I made a sharp turn, i saw him. I could hardly believe who it was, but it was the King himself! I was a little amazed at the prospects of seeing Elvis on this date, so to verify it was him, I rolled open the window and shouted "ELVIS!!". His head snapped back, caught sight of my sleek 1968 station wagon, and took off. By taking off, I don't mean he ran as fast as he could or anything like that. He really took off. The glitzy sequins on his jacket popped off, providing a cushion of compressed air. I tried to follow him in my car, but he had floated over a barn. I was not about to drive the industrious Jesusmobile through numerous sleeping farm animals, so I comforted myself with the sight of Elvis flying higher...higher....higher.....until his air ran out, and he plummeted straight to the ground, and ungracefully went through the roof of the barn. I lept right out of my sputtering symbol of American craftsmanship and raced into the barn. When I got in there, i had to advert my eyes from the disgusing view presented to them. It seemed Elvis had fallen on a gnu, saving himself, but the gnu was quite dead. This was evident from the now-covered barn walls with gnu-blood. Icky. Elvis was now sleeping peacefully on the mangled gnu, looking like an ugly, obese baby. I tried picking him up, and stuffing him in my car, but to no avail. I was saddened by this, as I had to show my friends my find! But it wouldn't work, he was just to flargling big. Then I got a great plan: tie him to the back of the car! I grabbed some rope from the barn's wall, tied Elvis's hands to the back fender, and tied his legs to a skateboard. After I was satisfied with my knot-tying, I leaped into the Jesusmobile and hit the accelerator. So there I was, doing 50 on some country road with one of the biggest rock and roll stars ever tied to the back bumper. I was just, o so happy. Until, that is, I saw the flashing lights of a local policeman in my rear-view mirror. Well, I wasn't about to stop and chat with them, being I had a body being dragged behind my car, and they wouldn't like that too much, I decided to floor it. The Jesusmobile lurched forward to an amazing 60 mph. I was astounded by the lack of speed. I cursed, pounded, and bonked my car, and explained to it how the law specifically states 'bodies can not be tied to a back of a motor vehicle without a permit', and how I didn't have a permit, and if we got stopped, we would be in deep-o shit. All my pleadings must have reached the heart of the vehicle, and it took off. When I say 'took off', I mean it accelerated, it didn't do any nifty flying like Elvis did. Hey, it is only a car. Anyhow, it quickly reached 108 mph, and I was rejoicing. Then I heard a loud <-SNAP->, and I quickly looked behind me. I saw the King's body roll off into the darkness. I almost wept even. Instead, I whipped the wheel around, skidded, hit a small shrubbery, and lost a rotted old cross off my roof that was utilized for the training and practice of would-be crucifiers. Anyway, back to the story. I sped back to where the string had broke, and noticed a small trail of sequins going down a different road. I followed the trail until it suddenly stopped in a mini-mall. I've always hated mini-malls, ever since I was a schoolboy. They were the root of all things evil to me then, and now. I cautiously entered the parking lot and began to search frantically for any sign of the King. I checked the garbage, shrubberies, roadkill, Romeo's Pizza (run by Koreans), A small Chinese food resturant (run by Russians), and a bagel store (run by Arabs). Basically everywhere in the whole mini-mall. I was distraught. I struggled to maintain my composure, until I realized i never had any composure to begin with. I felt better after that. I trudged back to my ready-for-scrapheap Jesusmobile, when I tripped and fell over something. To my amazement, I found (no, not Elvis) a hammer and some very large nails. "Hey, what the hell is this doing here?!?", I shouted to the pavement, as I scooped it up. I recognized it as the last sale I made, to a Mr. John Cristel. I was pissed at the blatant disregard over this fine product, manufactured by Mr. Picard. I charged blindly over to the nearest pay phone, and grabbed the handy Phone Book. I let my fingers do the walking, and this is what I found.. "Chriss C..." No.. "Christensen L..." No.. "Christ J..." N-Hey wait a second.. I could not believe my eyes! Jesus Christ in the phone book! Amazing! I was so suprised I shouted out, "Oh my God, I found Jesus Christ!". Then Elvis, who was watching me while I blindly ran past him before in my mad rush for the phone, muttered,"Hmph...Always in the last place you look, eh?". Then he vanished. Well, that was the night that changed my life. I still have Christ's number to this very day. I've been meaning to call, but what should I say? "Hello, is this the Messiah?" "Jesus? How've ya been? How's the hands?" "Hello there! What do you think of the Saints chances for the Super Bowl are?" See, none quite work. I'll just have to contact him in my own way. 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