(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~) (*) (*) * (*)~*~(*) HOE E'ZINE RELEASE #897 * 0 0 ~ 0 * ~ 0 0 ~* *~ 0 hOGS ~ "Milk and Cookies. A book." ( 0*~*~*0 ( ) 0*~*~ oF ) ~ 0 0 ~ ~ 0 eNTROPY ~ by Reflecks * 0 0 * * 0 * 11-7-99 (*) (*) ~ (*)~*~(*) (~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~) The factory up the street churned out milk and cookies. All of it came in a prepackaged, individually served plastic and gold foil wrapped. Oh, thats not good "thought he." The ampersand. He whisked away the idea, clean and simple. Eat is all he did lately, he must be under a lot of stress, "thought his friends". He must be. The smell of tuna comes fresh from the sea, wharf air wafting high above the piers, through the salty crowds and above the peanut auctioneers. The boy opens his package of milk and cookies. Sanitarily, pasteurizationally, very white milk. Do they make this milk from cows, "he thought"? Fighting the block, he carefully scripts down the beginning of a novel, carefully weaving, carefully mingling the characters. The basis for an afterschool special, the mere idea of which made them queasy in anticipation. Perhaps he is depressed. A mime practices his act before a full crowd. In the meanwhile, the thief makes his way through the crowd of full wallets and no suspicion. I'm going to be a writer some day "he told his mom." He always told his mom things. This time, it was true. Become a writer he would. He slowly and painfully labored over the words, each one coming in rapid succession, forming no real idea. Type away he did. He hadn't really reached his dreams, he never was really happy. Depression caused by lack of enthusiasm. He starts writing a book. Seizing a brief opportunity, spying an open briefcase, he makes his way over. Like an eagle, snatching the black leather case. He grew up and went to school. He had problems. "A" troubled kid. Friends. But not his. His to keep, but he didn't want. He found his niche in writing. The ending complete, finished. The quilt woven. Tangled web made right by the author. He puts away the finished book and goes to the beach. (~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~) ( *(c) hOGS oF eNTROPY pRESS* HOE #897 ~ WRITTEN BY: REFLECKS ~ 11/7/99 )