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Night of the living poker night.

To: poker-night
From: electroblake
Subject: Night of the living poker night.
Date: Thu, 6 Jul 2006 19:29:29 -0400

Sometimes people think that they are being funny when really they are
saying terrible things that hurt the feelings of perfectly innocent
children.  They say, hey fatty, why don’t you go suck on a stick of
butter?  Or they talk about a child’s mother, implying that the
mother will have sex with an unreasonably large percentage of living
things.  Sometimes people will tell children that they were
unintended, that their very existence was a mistake.  Usually it is
parents who say that, and usually after a few drinks.  Children need
to learn not to fix drinks for their parents if they can’t handle
these abuses.  They need to take it like their mothers take it from
undesirable strangers:  up the butt and with a smile.  Damn these
children, always complaining about this or that, always with the I’m
hungry or I’m tired or my coughing is black from breathing in too
much coal dust or the mr. checkers the parakeet is dead does that
mean I can come up to the surface now?  Grow a spine, children!
Nobody is going to come to rescue you just because you spend all
night screaming and screaming and crying and screaming, you’ll just
get locked up in an even muggier and darker room, and that one will
have worms in it that you’ll find under you pillow because they like
it there because it’s so dark and warm and moist.  Worms love it and
that’s what you are, children, so why don’t you just learn to love it
too?  Or do you want to end up like old Timmy here?  eh, do you?  Do
YOU?  You remember old Timmy, doncha?  You remember, he used to take
you out for ice cream after church and he’d let you stay up late to
watch the television shows your parents never let you watch but Timmy
thought they were oh so funny and he’d give you extra portions at
dinner, he’d always joke that he was just trying to fatten you up but
deep down inside you sort of weren’t sure what his motivations were
because actually he was pretty creepy.  Timmy is dead, children.
Timmy was eaten by the rats.  Timmy was chopped up into tiny little
bits and fed to the rats and to the dogs and even to mr checkers that
stupid parakeet you loved so much but now mr checkers is dead too and
pretty soon you now what’s going to happen?  Do you?  The rats are
awfully hungry tonight.  Here the dogs barking?  And look!  It’s a
zombified mr. checkers!  That’s right, children, we’ve brought him
back from the dead in anticipation of this very special treat.  Do
you know what night it is tonight, children?  Don’t you know?  doncha?

that’s right.


Poker Night!
“first hand at nine.”

Dangerhouse is XX XXXXXXXX XX. #X in happy cheery Somerville, MA

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