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   ooooo   ooooo  .oooooo.  oooooooooooo       HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #536
   `888'   `888' d8P'  `Y8b `888'     `8
    888     888 888      888 888                 "Bummer of a Dream"
    888ooooo888 888      888 888oooo8
    888     888 888      888 888    "              by Another Mike
    888     888 `88b    d88' 888       o               3/27/99
   o888o   o888o `Y8bood8P' o888ooooood8
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        I'm not sure where to start.

        I was in a black room.  Like a shrine with all the little candles
 and fetishes, but darkened.  I lit a match, candles, and shook the match.
 It didn't go out.  It kept burning; not sneaking down the stick towards my
 knuckles, just burning in the same place for a couple minutes.  I stood
 there, dumbfounded.

        A hand reached out and pinched the flame between two slender
 fingers.  It made a whiff sound.

        "Weird, huh?" the hand's owner said, jovial.  Female, plain.  The
 face was hard to focus on in the gloom.

        I jumped back, stumbling over something.  Landed hard on my back.
 Winded myself.  The girl helped me to my feet.  She was warm.  You could
 feel it radiating off of her.  She smelled of clean laundry - the way I
 always thought the girl of my dreams would smell.  The fact that it was a
 girl took away some of the fear, but not all.  It was bizarre.

        "What's with the match?" I mumbled, trying to get my bearings.

        "I was supposed to do that.  Just as an example."

        I tried to focus on her.  "Example of what?" It wasn't just the
 light.  Something was wrong with her.

        "Hate to be the one to break it to you, but everything's up to fate.
 I was meant to put out the match.  Otherwise, it could've burned forever."

        "W-w-what?" Damn.  Wasn't expecting anything like that.  So much for
 a sexy dream.

        "I dunno.  Maybe I'm just having a fucked-up day for an angel, but I
 thought I'd clue you in.  Everything is subject to fate.  And it's not
 even romantic."

        "So you're telling me no matter what I do, you or one of your
 friends is going to determine what happens?"

        "What happens is already done.  It just takes a little time to
 play out."

        "So," I crossed my arms, "you could like, whip out a book and read
 me what happens?"

        "Here you go." She tossed me a little paperback.  Dogeared pages, a
 frayed cover.  There were some pages ripped out towards the back.

        I read the pictures.  I saw the words.

        "Now just a goddamned minute! This isn't mine! I want to see mine."

        "Don't test my resolve, buddy.  It's not allowed.  I can't see mine,
 you can't see yours.  That's the breaks."

        I threw the book down.  "This shit's a joke.  A big sick joke.  I
 don't believe you."

        "Believe what you want.  It's all in the book."

        "Fuck you."

        "Page 47."

        "Huh?"

        "You say that.  On page 47."

        "Shit! 47? That's all?!"

        She shrugged.

        "Or is it because there's a bunch more ahead?"

        "Nice try." She leafed through another book.  "You should see page
 53.  I mean, whoo hoo."

        "What if you couldn't finish your job? What if killed I you?"

        "Don't know.  What makes you think I have your book? What makes you
 think I can die?"

        My eyes bulged.  I made no pretense of calming myself.  I raged.
 "That's a cheat.  A damn underhanded..."

        I went on.  She yawned.

        I sprung on her, and I meant to kill her.  My hands closed onto her
 neck.  In other circumstances, I would've said it was a perfect neck.
 Kissable, long.  I thought to stop, but shook it off, snarling, muttering
 idiot curses.  I couldn't believe myself.  I was killing someone.  I heard
 laughter.

        It was a bummer of a dream.  I didn't know which one to be more
 upset about:  that I started to believe her or that I killed her.

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 [ (c) !LA HOE REVOLUCION PRESS!  #536 - WRITTEN BY: ANOTHER MIKE - 3/27/99 ]
