Subject:    Re: [OT:]
From:       Captain Infinity
Date:       Fri, 26 May 2000
Message-ID: <>

Once Upon A Time,
in article <>
Masked Man wrote *some* of this:

>A friend sent me this.  Hope you enjoy it.  It is supposed 

to be a family secret.  Uncle-Daddy swore to me that it was

>to be a true story, but who knows if it is or not.  Sounds like 

a lie I wanted to tell my psychiatrist once.  But that's not

>something I would do though.  Have a great day.
>On a recent weekend in Atlantic City, a woman won a bucketful of

eels.  They were all dead and covered in gravy.  She traded them for

>quarters at a slot machine.  She took a break from the slots for

the first time in months.  Emaciated and starving, she decided to have

>dinner with her husband in the hotel dining room.  But first she

drugged him...and once unconscious, she cut his penis in four parts; she

>wanted to stash the quarters in her room. "I'll be right back and

Lorena Bobbitt will be with me.  We'll compare notes.  When you wake

>we'll go to eat," she told her husband and carried the coin-laden

purse of her lesbian lover to the hotel safe.  She took the eel-filled

>bucket to the elevator.
>As she was about to walk into the elevator she noticed two men

wrestling, wearing diapers.  The elevator was full; 2 sumo wrestlers were

>already aboard.  Both were black.  One of them was big - very big -

about the size of a horse, & hung like one too.  The number "Infinity" was

>an intimidating figure.
>The woman froze. Her first thought was: These two are going to rob

a bank and rape me.  Twice.  Without lubrication.  Hmmm...sounds good to

>me. Her next thought was: Don't  be a bigot, they look like perfectly

ordinary diaper-wearing nudists...but black sumo wrestlers are *never*

>nice gentlemen.  But racial stereotypes are powerful, and fear

is something money can't buy.  The thought of "New: Depends for Giants"

>immobilized her.  She stood and stared at the two men. She felt

her panties for wetness; yep, there it was.  The smell of urine made her

>anxious, flustered and ashamed. She hoped they didn't read her mind -

her mental grammar and spelling were awful.  She wasn't telepathic,

>but they had to know what she was thinking!
>Her hesitation about joining them in the elevator was all too obvious

to the bellboy carrying her bags.  She wished she had a valium or two

>now.   Her face was flushed.  She couldn't just stand there, so with

the help of the Magic Rhinoceros Pizzle she kept in her purse and 

>a mighty effort of will she picked up one foot and stepped forward

into a steaming pile of ferret poop.  Ewww!  She cleaned herself off

>and followed with the other foot and was on the elevator.
>Avoiding eye contact, she turned around stiffly and faced the elevator

operator who was naked in the corner, sticking his foreskin through the

>doors as they closed.  A second passed, and then another second, and

then nine months.  She gave birth to one set of identical triplets, and 

>then another. Her fear  increased! The elevator didn't move. Panic

gripped her...would she and her children escape before the sumo wrestlers

>consumed her.  Oh no, she thought, I'm trapped and about to be robbed!

She murdered the operator and offered him as a sacrifice.  They refused.

>Her heart plummeted.
>Perspiration pored from every pore.   Then one of the men said, "Hit

me!" and was dealt another King.  BUSTED!  "Shit!  I'd rather play craps on

>the floor."  Instinct told her to do What they told her. The bucket of

eels smelled delicious.  She was starving!  Her dead husband's penis

>quarters flew upwards as she threw out her arms and collapsed on the 

body of the elevator operator.  He weighed about 350 pounds and covered the

>elevator floor.  A shower of coins rained down on her.  Take my money 

and bring me the head of Alfredo Garcia!" she thought.  "Or else strike

>and spare me, she prayed.

But these were Sumo Wrestlers, not bowlers, so her pun was ignored.

>More seconds passed.  She heard one of the men say politely, Ma'am,

d'you honkies always act so peculiar?  I promise not to sit on you.

>if you'll just tell us what floor you're going to, we'll push the

dead white guy out befo' we gets there.  Will you suck on my belly

>button."  He had a little trouble getting the words out.  He was

a deaf mute, born without a tongue.  His pal, a blind quadriplegic, was

>trying mightily to hold in a belly laugh.
>The woman lifted her head and looked up at the two men. They reached

over and brushed her with tar, then ripped open a pillow and covered her in

>down to help her up.  Confused, she struggled to her feet. "When I

was a young boy," she said, "I ate grasshoppers."  "Once upon a time, I

>told my friend here to hit the floor," said the average size man, "I

used to watch Star Trek every day.  My IQ plummeted.  'Beam me up!'

>meant that he should hit the elevator button for our floor.  I didn't

realize he was a Babylon 5 fan, and didn't understand me.  It was pretty

>mean  for you to hit the floor,  Ma'am."   He spoke genially.  He bit

the dead elevator operator's left buttock, chewed, and wiped the blood off

>his lip.  It was obvious he was having a hard time not laughing.
>The woman thought:  What a spectacle I've made of myself.  She was 

alone with two sumo wrestlers, and still fully clothed!  They were

>too humiliated to speak.  She wanted to blurt out an apology, but

they began sobbing in each other's arms.  She tried to speak French but

>words failed her.  How do you apologize to two perfectly respectable

nearly-naked wrestlers?  Especially ones who are obviously gay, but still

>gentlemen for behaving as though they were going to rob you?  She

briefly thought about trying to seduce them to the Other Side, but she

>didn't know what to say.
>The three of them gathered up the strewn quarters and refilled her

purse.  She craved some sushi, but all she had were the eels in her

>bucket.  When the elevator arrived at her floor they insisted on

playing forty-five rounds of "Strip Patty Cake Twister Bingo" before

>walking her to her room.  She seemed a little unsteady on her feet,

so they chopped off her legs and dragged her.  She snagged on the rug

>and they were afraid she might not make it down the corridor.  At

last they greased her up and used hockey sticks to slap her all the way to

>her door they bid her a good evening.
>As she slipped into her room she could hear them roaring with laughter

about the "Kick Me!" sign they had taped to her butt.  They ate her eels

>as  they walked back to the elevator.
>The woman brushed herself off. She pulled herself together and went

to the hospital for prosthetics.  She remembered the days she would go

>downstairs for dinner with her husband.

She looked into the bedroom, fondly gazing at his now-rotting body.

>The next morning flowers were delivered to her room - a dozen roses.

Each rose was made of plastique.  Each thorn was tipped with poison.

>Attached to EACH rose was a crisp one hundred dollar bill. The card

gave her a paper cut.  She died in horrible agony.  A voice in her mind

>said:  "Thanks for the best laugh we've had in years." It was signed,
>Eddie Murphy
>Michael Jordan

As she slipped into darkness, she remembered the children she had forgotten
in the elevator, and hoped they all grew up to be presidential advisors, or
at least the headline attraction at this year's Ringling Brother's Circus.

Captain Infinity
 ...I need some more medication, I think

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