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::                                                                         ::
::        Hide your women and your gold!  He's back!  Run!!  RUN!!!!       ::
::                                                                         ::
::                        THE FIXER in 1990 Presents                       ::
::                  Pranks, Revenge, and General Mayhem XV                 ::
::                                                                         ::
::                  This Lesson: Hot Phun in the Summertime                ::
::  Article dedicated to the memory of The Aardvark, may he burn in Hell.  ::
::                                                                         ::
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Well, this is my first Pranks file in almost two years now.  Looking back at 
my old work, I have decided that the world needs more violence, more death, 
more destruction, more chaos.  Fuck peace; rebuild the wall!  Fuck 
disarmament, nukes for everyone!  If you love something, kill it.  If you hate 
something, try a few of these out.........
 
                                        -=( The Fixer )=-

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A DAY IN THE LIFE OF THE AARDVARK:

Ah, yes.  It's a nice cool early Monday morning, about an hour before dawn.  
Let's see to it that Vark doesn't miss his beauty sleep.  Cut the power lines 
to his house.  Don't risk electrocution; use a .22.  With a silencer.  Also 
make sure he won't be phoning anywhere; take out his Tel line.
 
Well, now you've just taken a major burden out of Vark's puny little life: He 
won't have to worry about getting up early on Monday morning.  Without that 
clock-radio, he won't BE getting up early Monday morning.  
 
So, 10:30 AM rolls around.  Vark rolls out of bed, looks at the clock radio.  
Its LEDs are out.  He looks at his watch.  He's already missed two periods at 
school.  ACK!!  He runs for the bathroom and hits the shower.  It's cold; the 
electricity has been out for hours.  So, smelling like a locker room, he 
throws on his And Justice For All shirt and brand-new K-Mart denims, grabs his 
skateboard, and heads for the door.  
 
But, alas, it won't open.  It has been Krazy-Glued shut, it'll take power 
tools to get it open.  Which won't work because he has no electricity.  So he 
heads for the back door.  Same drill.  The kitchen window.  Glued.  His 
bedroom window.  Stuck.  The bathroom window.  Cyanoacrylate city.  Flustered, 
he screams, "Good Fucking Grief!!!".  His parents awake.  They want to know 
why the power is out.  They notice that the phone doesn't work.  "Your 
computer friends had something to do with this, didn't they, young man!"  
 
Finally he smashes the kitchen window, he's soooo late he'll be soooo screwed 
if he doesn't get to school.  He skates off, down the driveway.  Too bad he 
didn't see the trip wire at neck-level (plus two inches to allow for the 
skateboard...).  His driveway is a down-grade, so he is skating pretty fast 
when he gets clotheslined.  His parents see him lying on his back, in pain.  
"Have you been taking drugs, young man?"  AARGH!  I must get to school, he 
thinks.
 
Skating for all he's worth, he is nearly there when he skates past two older 
girls, who giggle at him.  Seems his fly is undone.  Seems he can't do it up.  
Yep, Krazy Glue.  He falls off the board again trying to do his fly up, the 
girls who were giggling break into hysterical laughter.  Beet red.
 
Finally he gets to school.  He goes to the front office, where he HAS to get a 
late slip or he'll do Study Hall until the end of Time.  He tells them why he 
is late.  The vice principal says, "I don't appreciate being lied to, young 
man, I want to see you after school.  Oh, and do up your fly, you wouldn't 
want the ladies to see you like that!"  aAaRgH!!  Life's not fair, he thinks.
 


Around noon hour, just as Vark is finished his first (and only) class of the 
morning (having endured an hour of torture from his cruel classmates about his 
fly and the fact that he needs a shower), the fire alarm rings.  It seems the 
school has just received a bomb threat; there's a pound of C4 in someone's 
locker, but nobody knows whose.  So all the kids are marshalled outside, and 
the police arrive.  They search all the lockers.  Finally, the principal comes 
outside.  "It's all right, just a false alarm.  You can all come back inside 
now."  He tells one of the police officers, "That's him, officer, with the 
rock shirt and his fly down."  He is pointing at Vark.  The Friendly Policeman 
saunters over to our friend.  "Mr. Silva, you'll have to come with me.  We 
found this in your locker."  The policeman shows him a ziploc baggie with 
about an eighth of skunk weed.  "But- but- that's not mine!  That wasn't in my 
locker!  I don't know where that came from!"  "Sure," says the pig, "That's 
what you kids all say.  Now come quietly, punk.  You're under arrest.  You 
have the right to remain silent..."  
 
Wasn't it silly of Vark to bring his lunch to school in a Ziploc baggie every 
day?  Yup, his fingerprints are ALL OVER that little baggie full of marijuana.  
This, my phriends, is the virtue of trashing.  Waste not, want not.
 
Well, that's the end of Vark's day for today.  His court date is in a week.  
His lawyer urges him to plead guilty and volunteer for drug counselling; that 
way he might get off with only a few months probation.  His parents always 
suspected he was into drugs, they ground him for 6 months and disconnect the 
phone extension in his room.  They are convinced it was drug pushers that 
Krazy Glued the house and cut the power and phone.

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SUMMER HOLIDAYS WITH VARK

Ah, summer.  For you and me, it means fun, anarchy, and death under the sun.  
For Vark, it means Hell.
 
What does Vark DO with all the time on his hands during the summer?  Get a 
job?  Go to summer camp?  Party?  Nope.  He'll just cruise around on his 
skateboard, alone because he has no friends.  Perfect.
 
Ever heard of the Funnelator?  Some people use it to launch water balloons, 
but for Vark, we'll add a special ingredient.  Piss balloons.  Five or six 
bags of urine smacking into his head at 200 miles per hour ought to do it.  If 
you don't know what a funnelator is, it's a giant slingshot that takes three 
men to operate it.  Read the file "Anarchy in the Snow" for more details.
When Funnelating victims truly deserving of the most vile, degrading 
punishment available, try fresh shit or permanent ink instead.  
 
Water Uzi!  Yep, the 80's did give us a few good things, one of them was toy 
water guns, motorized and with long range.  These are employed daily by 
children and naive anarchists, but we are REAL anarchists.  We recognize the 
true potential of this instrument of terror, and use it to the full.  There's 
Vark skating down Yates Street now!  WATER UZI!!!  But what comes out of that 
water Uzi is not water at all.  It's permanent ink, or piss, or concentrated 
acid (immerse the toy Uzi in melted WAX and let dry before filling with acid, 
or else it'll go through the plastic before it's full).  If you can get close 
enough to guarantee a facial hit (the face is the one on his head, not the one 
below his back...) try using poisons or hallucinogenics.  Prussic acid, a 
cyanide compound, works great but Vark won't SUFFER enough before he dies.  If 
you use Prussic acid, ingest some photographer's hypo several hours before 
using it, that way you will live if something goes wrong.

KRAZY GLUE AGAIN!  Wouldn't it be JUST TOO BAD if all the thermostats in 
Vark's house were INTERNALLY Krazy Glued to full-blast?  You can very easily 
make an electric thermostat that appears to be off stay on at all times.  
Since this is a summer fun section, I just thought it would be the hellish, 
anarchaic thing to do.
 
I KNOW I HAVE PUT THIS IN A FILE BEFORE, but I'll reprint it.  And it hasn't 
got much to do with summer either, but who cares?  Is this theme night or 
what!  OK.  We all know well of the gray box on the outside of most peoples' 
houses where the telephone line terminates.  Many text files, mostly of a 
fairly lame nature, have been written on the uses of this box for making 
"free" telephone calls or for introducing line noise, or even for prank 
calling.  But to my knowledge, nobody has gone to Vark's house, dialed up an 
expensive dial-it service in Australia or South Africa, and just left a 600-
ohm resistor across the terminals of his gray box, leaving the circuit closed
all night!
 
Nor, for that matter, have I heard of any hackers getting into a system with 
an outdial port, programming a demon dialer into it, and setting that dialer 
on Vark!  A non-stop demon dial, and it won't be traced to you.  I am almost 
ready to try it myself...

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Well, these are my suggestions, and that's it for Pranks XV.  Whenever you see 
anything with moving parts, Krazy Glue it.  Whenever you see any food or 
drink, spike it.  If you see a lamer like Shawn Silva, Aardvark, Vark, 
'Varkster, Bruce, or The Hacker (all the same person), KILL IT!
 
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THC 3/12/24oo 110 meg (604) 383-7874


