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Larissa Issue 01
-[old-fashioned angst, like an old-fashioned schoolteacher]-=-=-=-=-=-
(
) ___ ___ * ,__ ,__ ___
/ ( ) \ ' ( (__ (__ ( ) issue #001
\__) \_/( ( \ ,__) ,__) \_/(. oct 25, 1996.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-[for the feisty woman in you!@#]-
[---- larissa ----] [---- larissa ----]
[-- jake has a new haircut and gets called a fag by larissa --]
[-- by murmur --]
jake is a nice guy. he doesn't do too much. but today he is at
the barber shop. jake is getting a nice new haircut.
jake leaves the barber shop, looking very chipper indeed. he is
very happy with his new haircut. he is chewing on a piece of
bit-o-honey and he is looking forward to going home and listening to
the latest pet shop boys single.
jake is three blocks from home when he larissa comes walking up
to him.
"hi, larissa! what's up?"
"i'm feeling pissy. did you get a haircut or something?"
"i sure did! what do you think?"
"you're a fag."
jake started crying and ran the rest of the way home.
[---- larissa ----] [---- larissa ----]
[-- mario goes to the market and is stopped and kicked by larrisa --]
[-- by murmur --]
mario has discovered that he is almost out of milk and he should
go to the store. mario leaves his house with fourteen dollars to get
some milk and maybe some cookies and toilet paper too.
mario goes three blocks. the store is only another two blocks,
but here comes larissa. larissa looks mean today.
"mario, what are you doing?"
"i'm almost out of milk, larissa."
"being a wise guy, eh? i'll learn ya!"
larissa starts kicking mario, who starts crying and runs away.
[---- larissa ----] [---- larissa ----]
[-- fingernail clippers --]
[-- by swiss pope --]
fingernail clipping is one of the things that i simply hate
doing. i usually just let my fingernails grow out, but then i run
into problems when i try to put my contact lenses in. like today.
after many long, tedious minutes of deciding whether or not my lens
was turned inside-out, i finally decided to apply some crazy opti-one
solution on the sucker and stick it in. oops! was *that* a mistake.
my nail poked right into my eyeball and vitreous humour squirted out
all over the mirror. by some unfortunately circumstance, this asian
guy came into my room, munching on a piece of barbequed chicken.
he said, "hey phil!@# isn't that _semen_ on the mirror? what
have you been doing, jerking your load all over the mirror? god you
people are sick. by the way, nice carpet."
"yeah, i picked it up at menards." he was right, it was a nice
carpet. i was a bit worried about getting vitreous humour all over
it.
"what? your filthy masturbation habit? har, har."
"no, my carpet." i got to thinking, maybe menards offers free
servicing if you get a stain on it within the first week of purchases.
nah, they would never honor a vitreous humour cleanup request. from
what i've heard, vitreous humour is worse on carpet than grape juice.
"be sure not to get _semen_ on it!" came barbeque guy's reply.
meanwhile, the vitreous humor oozed down my neck, slowing
covering my necktie. it formed a thin, transparent sheath covering
the faces of the three stooges that proudly adorned the tie. this
looked kind of cool, actually, because it was like the three stooges
were in a plastic bubble from 2001: space odyssey or craig shergold's
living room. it's a pity that there was very little time for me to
admire the really need gouraud shading effects that vitreous humour
can have on ordinary household items, because it's not that something
you see everyday. but then i was more concerned with maybe sopping it
up with a wash towel and putting a bit of it back into my eye.
bang! bang! bang!
'what the hell', i thought, 'is going on? i don't have time for
visitors-- if i don't get my eyeball back into tip top shape, i'll be
late for work.'
door opened. a short, dark-haired lass wielding a machete
stomped inside. she wore a plaid skirt, sturdy boots, and a necklace
made of coaxial cable.
"larissa! what are you doing here?" i said, startled.
"i don't know. perhaps i just wanted to say hello, perhaps i
just wanted to chop your head off!@#"
"oh please no. i have enough problems. look at this carpet.
it's a mess."
"shut your trap-jaw, i don't have time to listen to you whine
about how you cut your eyeball open or how menards has lousy customer
service. i've heard it all before. i'm here to collect."
larissa sharpened her machete on the large stone block i keep
underneath my computer, to prevent the cpu from getting too hot.
"uhh, what?" i asked. i think my palms began to sweat, but i
couldn't really tell if it was really sweat or more vitreous humour.
it's amazing how viscous that shit is.
she scouted around the room a bit until she came upon a pile of
discarded dr pepper boxes and free calendars. pushing away what
seemed to be debris with the steel toe of her boot, she revealed
something that gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. i squinted my
good eye, attempting to focus on the shimmering object. alas, i
could not focus on it.
suddenly, a morbid angel song came on the light rock station.
"bow to me faithfully, bow to me splendidly," sang the evil guy
in morbid angel.
larissa grinned evilly. "this was a request."
my stomach began to ache, i felt myself keeling over, tumbling in
a spiral towards the shiny silvery mystery item that lay before
larissa's uniquely-feminine black combat boot. it came within two
feet of my working eye-- the image crisp enough for me to recognize
just what in the hell it was that the doom bitch wanted!
"my fingernail clippers. you've had these for six weeks and i
doubt if you've even used them once. look at my fingernails! i've
been using this machete, that i borrowed from my anthropologist friend
roy, to cut my nails. look at them. they're cut in a squarelike
shape. do you know _why_ they are cut in a squarelike shape? because
machetes aren't meant to be used as fingernail clippers, that's why!"
she picked up the clippers from the floor, giggled, then smeared
the tiny puddle of spilled vitreous humour all around and deep into
the plush new carpet from menards. just before she stormed outside,
she uttered in a harsh, breathy voice,
"by the way, your haircut makes you look really gay."
the only reason why i got offended at that last comment was
because i began to think, 'if i go out right now and buy a glass eye
everyone will think i'm gay, so i'd better wait until my hair grows
out.'
[---- larissa ----] [---- larissa ----]
[-- andrew is a big guy and larissa is mean but can not hurt him --]
[-- by murmur --]
andrew is walking to the park right now to play on the slides.
he is a pretty big guy and the park is only a couple of blocks away
from his house.
he is only a block away now but larissa is here and is telling
him he can't go to the park. she is much too small to be anything
more than a pesky gnat, however.
"i won't let you slide, andrew."
"why not, larissa?"
"i am a bitch."
andrew is vaguely puzzled but he basically walks by her and heads
on to the park anyway. larissa starts kicking and punching andrew but
she is small and weak and he does not notice.
andrew enjoys his time on the slides.
[---- larissa ----] [---- larissa ----]
[-- how to play hot larissa --]
[-- by murmur --]
necessary supplies: music, dj, more than three persons, one larissa.
how to play: dj turns music on. participants pass larissa
back and forth amongst themeselves. the dj will
randomly stop the music and whoever is stuck
holding larissa when the music stops will be
shocked with a jolt of pure evil juice (tm) and
will be out of the match. play continues until
all but one person have been eliminated, and that
final person is at liberty to do whatever the
fuck he or she wants with larissa.
other rules: 18 and life to goOOoOooOO!
[---- larissa ----] [---- larissa ----]
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e x p e r i m e n t i n h a t e e x p e r i m e n t i n h a t e
n u m b e r 0 0 1 : o c t o b e r 2 5 , 1 9 9 6
please send contributions and feedback to edecker@students.uiuc.edu.
