
 [--------------------------------------------------------------------------]
   ooooo   ooooo  .oooooo.  oooooooooooo       HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #723
   `888'   `888' d8P'  `Y8b `888'     `8     "The Biggest, Largest, Most
    888     888 888      888 888              Exciting Heist of All Time
    888ooooo888 888      888 888oooo8      Chapter 2: The Gathering Storm"
    888     888 888      888 888    "                 by Nybar
    888     888 `88b    d88' 888       o               7/6/99
   o888o   o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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        "We'd better get going."  The reception on the TV was rather grainy.
 Mogel and Nybar were evidently about to leave "Yeah, I've got to get
 supplies."  This was NybarKeith and Guy were hearing this over their
 FBI-esque monitoring equipment, in a one-room apartment just across the
 street from the diner.  Nybar had told them to stay there four hours
 earlier.  Either one of them would have seperately, presented with the
 opportunity, waited to get into the apartment, and beaten Nybar up, and
 stolen anything worth stealing.  But with both of them there, it had a
 gyroscopic, see-saw balancing type affect.  They were wary of taking each
 other on, and couldn't come to an agreement that might split everything
 50-50.  It was wise of Nybar to get both of them.  Besides, there was
 something about him that neither of them trusted.

        Keith "This is fucking BORING man."

        Guy "What, need a hit?" he laughed, a smooth basso chuckle.  His
 laugh fit him, he was a big guy.

        Keith "Fuck you man."

        Guy "Don't say fuck you to ME, you American wannabe spic
 mothefucker... I've been raping your two dads up the ass since before you
 were sucking your momma's dick."

        As always, pride overcame better interests and intelligence in the
 underworld.  If only they could find a way of working together for the
 betterment (economically and spiritually) of all of them... but it will
 never happen.  People are just naturally assholes, especially in the kill
 or be killed enviroment of the lower class.

        Keith "Don't go there... just don't even go there."

        Guy chuckled again.

        Keith "No, I don't mean about yo' dumbass insult talkin about my mama
 and pa; never gave a shit about them.  Talkin' bout tha 'american wannabe'
 part.  Take that back you fuck---"

        Keith was, tragically, a pretty smart guy.  But he couldn't afford to
 just live his life in peace because of his NAME.  All the homeboys
 constantly made fun of him for not having a name like Ramon or Jesus.  He
 always had to try to live his name down, make himself stand out.  Beat the
 white kid  a little bit harder, smoke a little bit more chronic, whatever.
 The thing that really pissed him off is that he never had a chance to be
 properly mad at his mother, who gave him the name... she was long gone.  And
 so here he was, a smart crackhead lured in by an offer he couldn't refuse of
 Nybar's.  Being naturally suspicious (as most smart people are), he had a
 whiff of what was up.  But he didn't know that what he had was just that: a
 scent of greater things brewing.  Being the more intelligent (if more fucked
 up) of the two, he was also disgusted by the way Guy would jeapordize the
 whole operation.

        Guy "I'll say whatever the fuck I want, but for now I'll lay off and
 we'll finish this job.  After this job is finished (and if I get my way
 it'll be over very soon), you're mine."

        Keith "Chill hombre... lets finish this job, get the loot, eh?"

        Guy grunts.  He grunted like a pig.  Once again, fitting for his size
 and stature.  Then, there was silence, as both silently momentarily agreed
 to put aside their argument and concentrate on the task at hand... though
 neither of them really knew what this was.

        Meanwhile, on the screen, Nybar and Mogel are in a hardware store.
 Nybar puts a 100 dollar bill on the counter, and the mustachio'd owner of
 the store with the bald pate makes a sweeping gesture towards the bottom of
 the counter.  "We've got all your typical action/adventure shit here...
 rifle, grappling hook, Indiana Jones-style hat, compass, enemas (just
 because you're old and constipated doesn't mean you can't enjoy a kickin'
 adventure!), everything!" said the owner.

        "Good" replied Nybar "I'll be wanting it all.  For we're going after
 the nirvana of lazy 'zine heads, the 7'th heaven anyone who doesn't have
 the time or inclination to write something original must always search for.
 Except we won't search for it; we'll FIND it.  Yes... it will be...
 magnificent!  BWAHAHAHAHA!"

        "But-- Nybar" Mogel interjected into Nybar's post grandiose-speach
 cackling "What the fuck are you talking about?"

        "You know exactly what I'm talking about, Mogel.  You've spent most
 of your jewish life looking for it yourself."

        "Surely you don't mean..."

        "I *do*.  And instead of actually saying what I'm talking about,
 I'll just let the pot boil some more."

        While Mogel and Nybar had been conversing, the owner was bagging
 their equipment and supplies.  He now handed the bags to Nybar and Mogel,
 who headed outside to put them in the van.  Which is when disaster struck...
 a whizzing sound...

        Mogel "Nybar, I've been shot" and Mogel fell.

        TO BE CONTINUED...

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 [ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS!      HOE #723 - WRITTEN BY: NYBAR - 7/6/99 ]
