Janeane Garofalo woke up with a hang-over. She had been at the big "Anthraxathon" bash last at the Blood-bowl and gotten shitfaced again. She climbed out of bed and adjusted the straps on her sturdy, studded-leather bra and pulled on her "A&P" double-dildo rubber panty's. After making brakefast (cold, left-over pizza and a six-pack of Coor's) she stoked-up her bong and turned on the TV.
Wrestling-(flip)-Wrestling-(flip)-Death Sports-(flip)-Wrestling-(flip)-PBS:"Ass-Fuck-a-thon" for Charity-(flip)-Wrestling-(flip)-Wrestling....
Sighing, she decided to watch wrestling. She vaguely wonderd of it was real, untill the "Animal" actualy killed "Tragic-Tommy". A small part of her felt sorry for the poor guy...but most of her thought "People get what they deserve" as she flipped over to the "Exicution Network" to watch the Palmer disembowelment.
Georgia Palmer had been strong enough to resist the changes that had torn conventional society. She was being killed for that crime.
As Georgia died Janeane felt like crying but masterbated instead. Then she masterbated to the instant replay.
It was all starting to seem so normal. Everything that had changed was starting to seem like it had always been that way. After all the schools were bombed and all the govenment centers were torched it began to seem that this vapid, violent lifestyle was all there ever had been.
Janeane checked the clock and pulled on her "Psycho-Bitches Rule" leather jacket. If she didn't hussle she'd be late for work again.
As Janeane Garofalo guided her big Harley around the wreckage of last nights war between the Hells Angels and the Breed, she thought of what life had been like. Of family's instead of tribes. Of education instead of ignorance. Of talking instead of killing. It seemed so...distant.
She pulled up infront of the strip-club and killed the engine. After dancing two three-hour shifts and making extra cash giving the boy's blowjob's she rode her Harley home again. On the way a bunch of drifters tried to stop her and take her bike. She pulled out her Desert Eagle and killed them all with no remorse.
She made it home just in time to gather around the big screen tv with the others in her tribe and watch "METALHEAD" deliver his nightly diatribe against everything he hated and why he was the most fit to rule. He raged against the "Man" and the "System" for a half an hour before the pulsing beat of "Iron Man" signaled that they could go back to what they were doing.
Janeane turned down several offers of sex and a chance to smoke some killer weed. Instead she claimed a six-pack of Bud and went to her room. Then she got drunk and masterbated while crying. She wept like a child for what she had done. This was all her fault, and soon even she wouldent be able to remeber why. She was getting used to the "METALHEAD'S" new truth.
"Why? Why had I let him get the remote? Why wasn't I faster?"
And with that her last thought, Janeane Garofolo fell into a beer-induced sleep.
This bleak and depressing world is shaken-up by the arival of a hero
Life goes on as it is. Eventualy everyone forgets that the world wasn't always a bad Road Warrior ripoff. Then something else happens
Janean Garafolo kills herself. "Go back and right the wrong you have done, Janeane!" says the Deity. "But I dont know how!" she cries. "You must find a way."...
Something Else
Tue Feb 27 05:08:49 2001