 +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
      .a&$$P"""""$$&a. .a&$$P"""""$$&a. .a&$$P"""""$$&a. .a&$$P"""""$$&a.
      $$"$$      $$$$$ $$"$$      $$$$$ $$"$$      $$$$$ $$"$$      $$$$$
      $a a$      $$$$$ $a a$      $$$$$ $a a$      $$$$$ $a a$baaaaaaaaaa
      $$"$$      $(e)$ $$"$$      $$$$$ $$"$$      $$$$$ gg gg      $(s)$
      $$$$$baaaad$$$$$ $$$$$      $(p)$ $$$$$      $(o)$ $$$$$      $$$$$
      $$a$$      aaaaa $$a$$      $$$$$ $$a$$      $$$$$ $$a$$      $$$$$
      `"$$$baaaaa$$$"' $$$$$baaaad$$$"' `"$$$baaaaa$$$"' `"$$$baaaaa$$$"'
 +---------------------$$$$$-------------------------------------------------+

              ( e p o s ) issue number two - circa september 1996

 +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
 
  epos (two) editorial by monk
                                                
      Another quick readin nose bleedin issue of epos.  Not much new with the
  zine other than a few new writers, and a lot more writers block. 

      Right off the bat I would like to make a little point about Silly Cat
  Comix.  In case you havent heard of them, the author of the amazing, great,
  stupendous comic has wrote an article for us this issue, its really cool.
  Before you do anything, go to http://www.muc.muohio.edu/~puck/index.html
  and check out silly cat comix, they rock!

      I've started back up for the fall semester but still have a lot of time
  to work on other stuff.  As of now im green, nasty cold swept through south
  florida and started playing with everones alergies like it always does.  Oh
  well, it's to hot to do anything outside anyway.

      On another note, a number of people have asked me who I am, well, I used
  to go by the handle myrddin.  That got really boring though, i've had the
  stupid thing for about 3 years now.  The only reason I even use a handle is
  cause it's faster to type then my real name 'gerritt'.  Damn I'm lazy.

      Some new things this issue.  I've added a section for my friend chris to
  write something.  He is a truly warped individual (when he gets tired) and
  his stuff will either make you fall down laughing or saying, yeesh that is
  freakin stupid.  I will also be discontinuing the music review section. I
  have decided to stray toward the literary extreme, taking epos with me.
  I'll still be writing on whatever I want and I encourage everyone else to,
  but I would like to get a little more poetry and stories in wherever I can.

      Ever heard of or met anyone who you just wanted to beat to death with
  a blunt baseball bat?  I did.  Just the other day my mom and my brother
  went down to Miami Beach to do some stuff.  They decided to go to a music
  shop and the grocerie store real quick before they had to do what they came
  to do.  So they found a grocerie store, parked and went across the street
  to a nearby music store.  They came out a little over 15 minutes later and
  went into the grocerie store.  When they came out they found a "boot" on
  our brand new 96 explorer sport's right front wheel.  If you don't know
  what a car boot is, its just this big hunky metal thing that makes it so
  you can't move your car.  Naturally furious she found the two goofs who had
  put the boot on.  They told her they were from some car parking thing (they
  even had badges and matching hats and paperwork and everything), and that
  she would have to pay 95 bucks cash to get her car unlocked.  Now for one,
  had it been me who had the boot put on I would have proceeded to find the
  nearest sharp metal object and you know what.  However it was just my mom
  against two BIG guys.  So screaming and yelling she faught it, but in the
  end she thought that it was some legal thing & she would get in trouble if
  she didn't.  So she gave the guys the 95 bucks and went on her way.  Now we
  later found out that these people are doing this all the time to a LOT of
  other really pissed off people.  Now if you think about what these guys
  were actually doing you will understand why it's so messed up.  They were,
  one way or another, holding her up.  They were NOT with the police and they
  basically are rip off artist assholes.  I would just like to let everyone
  know a little saftey tip incase you didn't already.  NEVER pay cash if you
  don't have to, especially not a cop. Oh well, I guess it's a good thing I
  wasn't there, I can take one guy, but two is to much.

       epos, writing for the fun of it, or not writing at all.

   " The reserve of modern assertions is sometimes pushed to extremes, in
     which the fear of being contradicted leads the writer to strip himself
     of almost all sense and meaning. " - Winston S. Churchill

 +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+

                        Space, And the Reason Tomithy's
                           Pudding was On The Floor

                                     'or'

                                The Bay Window

                                    by puck

  Outside, people were busy being defined.  Inside, Tomithy had more pressing
  things to worry about.  His pudding was on the floor.  He sat in a high-
  chair, though the warning on the box said he was much too old for that.  The
 warning on the box mentioned nothing concerning pudding, and had Tomithy read
  it before, he wouldn't be cursing for it now.

        "Useless," cried Magitha.  "The bloody things don't mention pudding.
  Why the fuck should they?  And who keeps a box, anyways?"

        "Oh shush, bitch," said Tomithy.

        "Gawwwwwwwwwwd."

  Tomithy shuffled in his high-chair.

      Outside, automobile industries were creating pleasing lifestyles through
  ergodynamics and scheduled obsoleteness.  Inside, Tomithy was gnawing on
  his wrists.

        "Tomithy, why don't you just get out of your bleepin' high chair and
  pick the shit up yourself?"  Magitha's good eye scanned the kitchen as she
  pummeled her way through it.  Her bad eye sat quietly in its little oak box
  in the living room.

        "Don't talk to me like I'm a baby, you hairy slut.  I know what
  'bleeping' means."

        "Oh bite a wart."

        "Which of yours?"  Magitha pulled a half eaten bologna sandwich off of
  the floor and tossed it at Tomithy's head.  He leaned quickly to the left
  in his high-chair and watched it smack against the large bay window behind
  him.

        Outside, egos were being inflated.  Inside, Tomithy was gritting
  his teeth.

        "I'm not cleaning the fucking pudding, Tomithy."

        "Well I'm not getting out of the high-chair."

        "You're a freak, shitbox.  You're fifty-six years old.  You're loud,
  you're insane, and I hate you."

        "YOU'RE fifty-six years old, hag.  I'm fifty-five.  You're fat, you
  smell, you talk funny, and you make a lousy pudding."

        "So that's why you threw it on the floor, zit?"

        "I didn't throw it on the floor, you twat."

        Magitha squinted with her good eye.

        "You didn't throw it on the floor?" she said.  "Then why the fuck
  is it on the floor?  Did it get one whiff of you and leap to its death?"

        "It's on the floor because of the alien," Tomithy said.

        "What alien?  You're retarded!"  Magitha waved her hands at Tomithy
  in disgust and walked out of the kitchen.

        "The alien who said he was just here to make space.  He startled me,
  so I DROPPED the pudding onto the floor."  Tomithy raised his voice a bit
  to make sure Magitha could hear him.

        "YOU ARE MAD," shouted Magitha.  "He said he was here to make space?"

  She walked back into the kitchen so Tomithy could see the disgusted look
  she had pasted on her face.

        "Yes," said Tomithy, "right about now, I think."

  Inside, an empty kitchen welcomed a bright sun which shone through a
  large, clean bay window.  Outside, an alien smiled.

 +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+

  - You think your pretty cool? by Monk

      No your not.  Your ignorant, your stupid, you haven't even the slimmest
  idea of what you are facing.  You fight for things you don't even understand
  and could never understand.  You bow to fools, you eat their words, you
  think you know it all.

      Your a punk, a loser, a fool.  No one admires you, no one looks up to
  you.  If you died tomorrow no one would know.  You would burn in hell with
  the other damned souls.  You make life hard for others, you dedicate days at
  a time to nothing.

      Maybe you will grow up and understand.

      Maybe not.

      You are not him, he is what you will become if you do not realize who
  you are and why you were put here.  He is scum that you can become.  Do not
  become that of which I speak.  It's just not worth it.

   " Any fool can criticize, condemn, and complain - and most fools do. "
      - Dale Carnegie

 +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+

 - how to make your own rootbeer!

      I totally forgot who I got this recepie from.  Anyway, it's how to make
 the only other liquid I consume besides water, ROOTBEER!!  I'm trying to find
 stuff I haven't ever drank before, you could call me a connasuer (or however
 thats spelled) of fine rootbeer.  Anyway, here it is.

 Ingredients: (for 2-1/4 gallons)
 
  2 gallons of water
  1 1/2 cups, honey
  3 tablespoons, ground sarsaparilla
  1 tablespoon, sassafras
  1 heaping tablespoon, hops
  1/4 teaspoon, ground coriander
  1/4 teaspoon, wintergreen extract (Almost all natural)
  1/4 teaspoon, yeast

 Procedure:
   Place the sarsaparilla, sassafras, hops, and  coriander into an enameled
   or stainless  steel pan.  Cover them  with water  and bring  to a  boil.
   Reduce the  heat and  allow them  to just  barely simmer  for 12  hours,
   making sure the water does not all evaporate. Strain  out the solids and
   add the liquid to 2 gallons of water that has been  boiled and cooled to
   lukewarm.  Stir  in  the  honey,  wintergreen  extract,  and  the  yeast
   dissolved in 2/3 cup warm  water. Stir the mixture  thoroughly and allow
   it to mellow for  several hours. You can  then siphon off the  root beer
   into a clean container before bottling, or fill the bottles immediately.
   Makes about two dozen 12-ounce bottles.

 +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+

  - Waves by Monk

  Traveling mountains of blue,
  Crash upon the shore;
  Never the same size, never the same speed,
  Waves are like people.

  Shades of blue and green,
  Reflect the light off its glistening surface,
  Like that of a mirror;
  Dancing Lights on the tips of new waves form,
  As the days new sun rises from the east;
  The dawning sun shines a glow,
  On the surface of a serene waterscape.

  Their sounds,
  Like the far off destruction of a towering building;
  Or the dousing of an inferno with gasoline;
  The sound always familiar in one way or another,
  But never exactly alike;
  Sometimes loud and sometimes soft,
  They all crash in the same tone,
  a calming, peaceful sound.

  Their strength is incomparable,
  Destroying the sandy shore;
  Lashing their powerful arm out when it pleases them;
  Speed like that of a mustang in full stride,
  Ever flowing, never slowing.

  And when they finally reach the shore,
  Crashing down will all their might,
  Gasping for life evermore;
  Fingers cling to the earth,
  As a last desperate measure to hang on to it's life;
  It is brought back to it's place of birth.

 +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+

 - The method of our madness

  " There was never a genius without a tincture of madness. " - Aristotle

      The final couple articles this issue will either make you laugh out loud
 or cause you to think krieg and myself are total idiots.  Well, first of all
 let me explain this form of writing krieg has dubbed as "syphish".

      To even begin writing a syphish story one must accomplish 4 main tasks.
 These tasks must be completed EVERY time before writing.

  1) you must check the time, it has to be past 2am
  2) listen to and old song, look at an old t-file, do anything to help you
     remember something incredibly funny in your past.  This will help get you
     in the syphish mood.
  3) you must drink 4 BIG glasses of choclate milk or rootbeer.
  4) type as if using a oija board.  Let your fingers do the typing based on
     internal signals sent from your mind.
   
      After these tasks, being of the number four, be accomplished, then thou
  shalt write in thoust most moronic mood anything that thou wishes.  Enjoy
  our syphish writings for this issue, look for more to come in the next.

 +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+

  Scadgog - Krieg

  Scadgog
  Scadgog 
  huma huma Scadgog         
  gog gog gog
  huma huma gog gog gog
  Once i saw a frog. Who stubbed his toe on a log. He once got ice, he
  once got rock, he once got a stumble full of gog.
  Once i saw a pig. Bellys awfull of grig, wonk wonk woe, ate
  dedgar dallen doe, with a pigs pocket full of mulch.
  Once i saw a lad. All cuddly chuddly and fad. His name was drad, he had his
  very own fad. He was a lad with a sock, ran around his dock.
  Whumpus woe, didly dumpus doe, a dear a female deere, went flying in the
  evermyst bog.
  Scadgog 
  Scadgog 
  huma huma NUKA NUKA hello , hello out there, hello, chewy is that you?
  huma huma gog gog frog
  Once i ate a nut. All fatty and rusty and chut. Chiped my toe, on a bow,
  and lost no maggot from my ear.
  Piddly wiggly dig, i almost ate a pig. Sat down on jack's crown, and fetched
  a bail of nuka.
  
 +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+

  this is my ascii comic of mr fogwatha saying things - Krieg
 
  :() blub blub blub
  8() BLUB BLUB BLUB (it has unique pump up eyeballs, like in a pub)
  :(iiiii) GUB GUB GUB (he has 5 rows of teath)
  :() hap hap blub blurrg blug bog rog wigg blurg blag slaad!
  :(0)
   -|- ahHHH  (its eathing every one, eating a kid called Jim goomba)
   /\
  
 +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+

  a story - Krieg

  Once i was sleeping like a snow drop on a volcanoe. When willy the pig
  came flying through my ear. It even drop king mongo on me , fresh in from
  New York. This huge frog claw developed outside my window that night. I
  would just watch it extend outward picking humas off the vine. One night
  It got alittle restless and went for willy the pig. All of the sudden he
  got a bunch of wombats stuck in his propeller nose, and came crashing
  through my bedroom window. The sirloin pig was good. Tasted like willy
  pig. It made my tummy shout arasmus arasmus tastes tasty jummy. 

 +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+

      Thanks for reading this conglamorite of letters, numbers and random
  keyboard characters.  Until we meet again.

   monk (oceans@gate.net)

 +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+

         All articles are copyright 1996 epos ezine, cause I said so.
       Please do not distribute this if it has been changed in any way.

 +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
