++ minivan_madness ++

"&*@k yo socca momma," shouted Benny. "I can't get out this bitch!"

Benny was an unusual name for a young roughneck growing up in western Pennsylvania. It was not unusual just because he was white-gansta, but he didn't fit the sweet mold of characteristics the name Benny usually attaches itself to. He found himself the butt of a joke here and there, but he never let this deter his efforts to win over his mother's compassion for feeding him buttermilk pancakes every morning before loading in the family minivan.
His mother, a rather rotund, brunette woman that was known by her friends as "Momma C", never really understood where her son's uncontrollable anger stemmed from. The medication ol' Benny boy took made him a little crazy, and it wasn't unusual for him to stand up in the middle of a class lecture and begin shouting obscenities like, "Jenny's just a little trick ho" and, his personal favorite, "that's some bullshit teach. What choo got against a young gunnin' brotha?". This slightly inconvenienced Benny's teacher and often interfered with the lesson plan, as Mr. Manlin would have to escort Benny to the in-school detention center, where he would undergo several sessions of shock therapy.
Benny referred to the detention center as, "The School Slammer," and saw it as a way of toughening his mind for the state penitentiary. He would sometimes ask the detention facilitator to attach the electrodes to his scrotum, but his wishes for more pain were never met -- until one day when Benny pushed the poor man over the edge with an off-color comment about his tendency to be rather weak on the amount of electrical charge he administered.

"Crank that bitch if you've got a dick - you four-eyed, I-never-got-laid sucka!" shouted Benny, staring at the facilitator with fiery eyes.

This enraged the virgin, and with a quick flick of the wrist, Benny was dead. As the voltage raced through the young man, his skin went from a pasty white to a violent purple. The facilitator finally turned off the charge once Benny's hair caught fire, and that was the end of the troubled boy's dismal existence.

The End

Curtis von Tacky

--HOT tamales==

Dear dear,

Elvis Becker, who often goes by the pseudonym Jonathan G. Sallowill, totally just sat down in my cubicle. He's in from Texas on business, and I've never seen mother quite so proud. Father, on the other hand, told ol' Johnny boy to shape up or ship on, as his beard's grown for more than a fortnight and he has the appearance of looking all too well fed. His credentials now represent everything a young Slovakian would like to have appear on a paper resume. E.J., however, prefers to keep everything tip top in the digital world, running amuck with blogging scallywags all too crafty for his diagnosed attention deficit, growing worse every day. As cyberspace continues to grow, so does his impatience with everything paper and palpable, and he's found himself very well doomed and damned.

He's gone now - So far gone. We may have lost him for good in what we've come to know as our great tangible world of papers, metals and liquids. But he lives on most certainly and infinitesimally in megabytes and email stories for all of the ages to come - That dear ol' Johnny boy.

Sincerely

Curtis von Tacky