Subject: Hate Satisfaction
From: firstname.lastname@example.org (MegaLiz)
Date: Thu, 20 Nov 1997 02:58:42 GMT
I was JUST getting ready to complain that nobody complains about me. I
was really getting SICK of all the psychofantics going on here: gee,
Meg yer SWELL! We love you Liz! You're RIGHT, O Megalithic One. GACK.
But then something ELSE happened. I rediscovered my bellyful of hate
thanks to THE BREAD LADY. Too much of the time, I've been holing up
with the pupae, feeling drained from the breast feeding regime (I
should mention that Spider Monkey is a whopping 17 pounds at 4 months
on BREASTMILK) and I've been whipping up nice recipes for dead meat on
the good days. I've been carefully spending time with only those that
I LIKE and it was making me Slack Complacent. When everything is Slack
and everything is Funny, then nothing seems to be terribly Slackful or
Yesterday was PURE TORTURE. I still can't quite bring myself to pound
it out in detail. So raw from the thing, all I want to do is forget
all about it. I KNEED to forget it. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.
Don't get excited. No machine guns were involved. The flour, sugar,
plastic bears full of oil, and 154 children were incidental. The
grownups were the real show.
At the climax of the afternoon, I could feel every nerve in my body
begin to twang off rhythm with the sea of pinkness, I couldn't breathe
until I managed to forget that my fingers had gone numb. It felt as
though my only choices were to scream at the top of my lungs, "YOU
STUPID FUCKS!!! LET THEM DO WHATEVER THE FUCK THEY WANT TO WITH THE
DOUGH!!! FUCK THIS POKE-N-FOLD BULLSHIT!!! THEY COULD KNEED THIS WITH
THEIR LITTLE ASSES AND GET PERFECTLY GOOD BREAD, YOU IDIOTS!!! CAN'T
YOU SEE THAT YOU'RE MAKING THEM CRAZY???? WHERE'S THE FUCKING *FUN*,
HUH? WHERE'S THE BOBDAMNED FUN IN THIS BREAD DRILL???? THIS IS NOT
*CUTE*!!!!" OR I could have walked out. I had TWO teachers at my
table, who kept shouldering me out of the way to reprimand little
people for not having their plastic knives lined up on the little
lines. FUCK FUCK FUCK THIS.
I didn't leave. Instead, I turned to another mommy and said, "If I
took a poke at that teacher, would that make me a bad person?" This
was PLEASANT, because the mommy was really smooth about it, but I know
that it firmed her conviction that I'm NOT RIGHT.
It was GOOD that I was there. Sparky blew a fuse. She blew big, but
quietly, in her patented sizzling of frustration. I took her out of
the room and we both calmed down.
"I can't do it RIGHT!" she said.
"Forget it," I said, "They're telling you the wrong way and they're
going too fast, anyhow. It'll be good bread."
When we got back, one of the teachers thanked me for taking care of my
I was real busy hating myself and wondering HOW I was going to be able
to function with this SCHOOL THING for another EIGHTEEN YEARS until
the Rev plopped next to me and listened to THE WHOLE THING. He never
has much to say at times like these, but whatever he does say is WORTH
"It was awful because you're a SubGenius, that's all," he said.
I was suddenly free to REALLY HATE all of THEM. It was beautiful.
At least I have my HATE in the right place.
* "Okay! Okay! I'll NEVAH EVAH do it AGAIN!" - The Spunky
alt.foot.fat-free: where you can collect all six Moment Toes