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=   F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K.   =
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                              One of Ten
                              ----------

	I am home. I am sick of driving. I am sick of these stinky boots. I
am sick of lamers and all their shit. I am sick of helping worthless people
who don't deserve it. I put up with it all anyway. Maybe it keeps my mind
occupied from riding the night, shooting wildly at strange faces. I don't
want to deal with one more fucker today. I want to sit back, watch movies,
and write.

	I am in the house. Fred has been listening to the Doors again. Not
that I mind, i just like variety. I am in the living room. Hmm, he isn't
even in here. Blasting music, half a sandwich on the coffe table. What is
this song anyway? Oh yeah, Break on Through. Maybe he is in the computer
room. His door is open, thats unusual, he likes to keep it closed. He isn't
in the computer room either. Back to the living room. "Try to run, try to
hide.." This is a good song. He was reading mail. Whats this? From
"xcontact@black.project.mil"? "Leave now"? What the fuck is this? He hung up
right after he read it. Blasting music, half a sandwich on the coffee table.
He must have gone to the store. He must be trying to freak me out.

        It is dark and Fred has not returned. Checking his room in case he
might have slipped by. Nothing has changed. His wallets on the floor. Empty,
no money or ID cards. Shut the door and go to sleep, not that I will get any
either way. I am sick of driving. I am sick of going to bed late and waking
up early.

	Awake. Feed the cat, give him water. Fred is still not home. Maybe
he went off somewhere with Josh. He decided to do these things before he left
to scare me. New message on the answering machine, I didn't even notice.
What was that? Too fast, play again. "Hidden mascara and the Blue Dolphin"?
That is wierd. It almost sounded like Fred. Almost.

        I am sick of driving. I am sick of the earth and the politicians
dream. No sign of Fred. He should have been home from work a half hour ago.
Hidden mascara? The Blue Dolphin? What the hell is going on here. Call one,
his Dad has not heard from him in a week. Nothing new there. Call two, Josh
has not heard from him in three days. Nothing new there. Call three, Fred
didn't go into work today. Now it is time to think. Hidden mascara? The
only mascara I know of is the stuff sitting on the bathroom counter from
when Lisa was over.

	No Blue Dolphin to be found in the bathroom. Sudenly it strikes me.
Book Shelf. I had put some of Jennifer's mascara on the book shelf when she
was moving out. That way I could drive her crazy because she couldn't find
it. If she did it was right in front of her the whole time and I got to
laugh at her. I told this to Fred to cheer him up. He looked down these last
few weeks. Behind the mascara. I have never noticed this book before.
Picture of a Blue Dolphin. Open it up. Drop the book and LEAVE NOW! Wait. I
can't believe what I just saw. It must be fake. Pick it up, open it. This
has to be fake. I take the book and leave.

	I have called an emergency meeting of our underground group. I told
them of Fred, and the Blue Dolphin. Apon the showing of the first page the
three of them think it is fake. Common sense and reason kick in. We have to
study this. We have to get past the first page. Close examination takes an
hour. It must be real. Where would anyone get a group photo of five 'grey'
aliens standing next to a rose bush? "Xtk, Meer, Yyy, Iou, Gridf. Summer '93
at Dreamland." The caption reads. The first chapter is like a family album.
We counted 6 different races. The next chapter, a history book. The next, a
bible. The next, scientific data on physics, transdimensional calculations,
genetic coding. The next, a language book. The next, symbols matched with
words. The last page says "Volume one of ten".

	I can't help but think. You think you know some people. Where are
other nine Dolphin books? I am sick of driving....

Rage-303.tr

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