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   ooooo   ooooo  .oooooo.  oooooooooooo       HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #516
   `888'   `888' d8P'  `Y8b `888'     `8 
    888     888 888      888 888                  "Prosthelyzation"
    888ooooo888 888      888 888oooo8
    888     888 888      888 888    "               by Phairgirl
    888     888 `88b    d88' 888       o              3/16/99
   o888o   o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8             
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        Another wonderful Sunday at work.  I innocently sit in the
 drive-thru window at Wendy's, happy as a clam, working my ass off,
 waiting for my shift to end and for the person at the speaker to hurry
 up and give me their damn order.  I gently glide open the window to smile
 at the lady sitting in her old beat up stationwagon below me and say,
 "Hi!  That's $3.15."  I hold out my hand, and she fills it ever so
 gracefully with her wad of money, and... a bible pamphlet.

        I strain to keep from making any out-of-the-ordinary facial
 expressions.  I collect the cash, hit the bizarre button configuration on
 the wall and put the money in my register.  Then, and only then, do I
 turn to my co-workers, out of view of the lady waiting patiently outside
 for her sandwich and fries, and dance around with the pamphlet, singing
 "SCORE!!!" repeatedly.  I then calmly rest the pamphlet near my register
 and politely hand the woman her order.

        When the restaurant calms down, a few people crowd around me to
 see what pamphlets I've collected this week.  Sometimes there's a funny
 comic, like the one about Satan's minions being heavy metal bands that
 are turning our children into witches and warlocks.  Alas, this week,
 it's only a super-friendly sickening-sweet find-a-friend-in-Jesus
 pamphlet.

        I rather come to enjoy my weekly drive-thru visitor with her silly
 pamphlets.  I'm not sure what she's expecting; as if one of these days,
 we'll read one of her Jesus Comics and suddenly see the light.  If nothing
 else, I've got quite a decent pile of Chick Publications and other
 various tools of the prosthelytizing community.  They amuse me.

        I used to be annoyed by such pushy tactics and tacky assumptions
 that they, somehow, will save everyone on this planet.  But, over the
 years, I've come to appreciate it.  I'd much rather have someone bothering
 me outright about becoming a Christian and saving my soul and loving
 Jesus and accepting his ways than most of the other prosthelytizing I end
 up receiving, and much of it is not quite so friendly.

        I come home and my sister is bitching about my brother eating
 "disgusting blobs of cow and pig" while I roll my eyes and go online.
 There, I read about how humans shouldn't consume animals and how horrible
 the world is for torturing and butchering innocent souls, right down to
 "scientific and statistical facts" that "prove" humans were never intended
 to consume meat.  I laugh outloud, eating my meatless food.  It's those
 kind of people that make me embarrassed to be a vegetarian.

        I decide to call one of my friends, who used to hang around with
 a former crowd of my own, and it sets me to remembering.  Tom, a former
 roommate of mine, would laugh at us and yell at us if we went into stores
 and actually paid for things; if you couldn't steal it, it wasn't worth
 having.  His entire crowd would ridicule and demean people who decided
 not to be miscreants and deviants.  After all, why be conformists?  We
 need to stick it to The Man!  It was always fun being the do-gooding
 leper of the group.  So sorry to be a law abiding citizen, folks.

        And this would also bring me to rememberances of my other former
 roommate, Don.  Don was alright, except that he was schizophrenic.  But
 besides that, he had a computer, and that made him an okay guy.  That
 is, until, you decided to speak to him whatsoever on the topic of
 religion.  Because, as I'm sure you all know.  Wicca is the true path
 and anyone who believes otherwise will be shunned by the Goddess and some
 other horrid things that I don't care to remember anymore.  His good
 friend was a christian; or, should I say, his good friend of only two
 months.

        But, coming back to reality.  The following day, I head off to
 work.  This time, I'm being abounded by my co-worker, Mike.  I'm using
 too many napkins, he says.  All those trees are being killed so I can
 blow my nose and wipe my mouth with a different slice of fiber each
 time.  And why am I using one of the company's styrofoam potato boats
 when one of the more eco-friendly, recyclable light plastic trays would
 have sufficed?  And why am I using two individually wrapped plastic
 forks for my salad and for my cottage cheese?  I'm the cause of the
 depletion of the ozone layer and global warning, you know.

        I spin around with a fire in my eyes and drop my tray to the
 ground.  I pull my submachine gun from my belt and randomly fire
 everywhere around me.  Screams are heard, then quickly hushed by the
 pounding rhythm of the bullets spewing this way and that.  Now silenced,
 I light my black candle and pledge thee to thy lord Satan, eat an entire
 sleeve of bloody red raw cow patties, and release all the freon from
 every refrigeration unit I can find while simultaneously chainsawing all
 the trees in a forty mile radius and harpooning humpback whales.

        And all was good.

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 [ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS! HOE #516 - WRITTEN BY: PHAIRGIRL - 3/16/99 ]
