=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Family Trip ----------- I told them not to take me on this stupid trip. I warned them over and over. Now they must pay the price, I will get my revenge. It began a week ago. My parents joyfully declared that we were going to spend three weeks together as a family high in the beautiful Colorado Mountains. I asked, reasoned, and begged them not to take me. I hated the majesty of the wilderness, and I hated being with my family. No, they would not listen to me, so it was inevitable. Damn. We started the little trip from hell bright and early one morning around six a.m. I was roused from my warm bed and forced into a crowded Ram Charger with my mother, father, and two little siblings age ten and six. Little brother began this wondrous sojourn by imediately starting to rant about how bored he was. Little sister promptly took the opportunity to steal my slepping spot on the seats and throw my CD discman into the backseat, breaking the lid off. Before I could even throw her out of the moving car my mother jumped in to defend her by stating that she "was just a little kid" and "she didn't mean it". So apparently my only source of music was to go unavenged because of age. I managed to go to sleep for a grand total of an hour before being awakened by my little brother poking me in the ribs asking me if I could name all the presidents who were shot and killed. He had asked everyone in the family this since we saw a documetary on it a week ago. All of us had seen it, but I guess he didn't believe that we could have retained the information for over a week. I politely told him to go and fuck all of the dead presidents and if he ever asked me that again, I would arrange for him to meet all of the presidents who had been shot. It took all of two seconds for my parents to assume that I was in the wrong and start bitching about me not being polite enough to my sibling units. "He looks up to you" "He loves you, and just wants to be friends with you because you are older." Same shit I always hear because my little brother can't ever be bad. Anyway, I got to hear that all the way out of Texas and into New Mexico. After thirteen hours on the road with the Mutant Family From Hell we arrived in Colorado. Good old dad backed our pop-up camper into the spot at Jellystone National Park (No shit, it exists. Jellystone!). He was proud that we got this spot because Loretta Lynn had camped there once. I got saddled with the kids so I could take them to see Yogi and go on the "Hey Hey Hey Ride with Yogi Bear" My little brother took the opportunity to say hello to whoever was in the Yogi costume and then punch him in the nose. I had to spend the next fifteen minutes apologizing to Yogi and his parents to keep us from getting kicked out of the park. Of course, the parental units didn't believe that innocent little Paul could have hit Yogi, so he got off scott-free. Over the course of the next few days the parental units dragged us all over the area. I got to see the Royal Gorge, Pike's Peak, and about a million other incredibly boring things. Somehow my sister managed to spill a drink on me at ever stop. When we went rafting, my little brother hit me in the face with a paddle and knocked me over the edge of the raft and into the rapids. Yeah, all the fun my father promised me was just oozing out of the bruise on my forehead. I spent the next week sharing a tent with my brother who just to make things fun proceeded to snore and wet the bed. My little sister woke me up by dropping her hot chocolate into my face through the top of the tent. Little bitch can't ever hold onto a drink. Last week of the three week vacation and I can't take it any longer. Now I'm going to have a little version of fun that dad didn't plan into our agenda. I went through his bag and found what I was looking for. My dad's commerative 1911 Colt .45. Never been fired because it is a commerative gun. Ha! My dad has a cow any time someone even touches it, but still he keeps a clip full of bullets in it. Sometimes he just refuses to make sense. I grabbed the gun, racked a shell into the chamber and walked outside. As I stepped out of the camper my little sister dropped my last Coke. That was it. I grabbed her by the hair and carried her into the camper. I proceeded to cover her face with a pillow and blew her head off. After that I found my mother lying out tanning her cellulite. "Having fun Mikey?" "Yeah" boomboomboom. "Lots of fun." I discovered little bro out in a little grove of trees thumbing through some of dad's porno magazines. I shot him in his little hard-on and walked on. Dad took two bullets in the face, permanently wiping that stupid fun grin off of his skull and planting it next to a tree. I went back to the camper and turned the gas on full blast, then tossed in a match. I bet Loretta Lynn didn't brighten this place up that much when she was here. So now I get to spend lots of time here in this nice hospital, medicated up to my eyes. I suppose in several years I could get out if I wanted to, but next week the activity planners are going to take us up to Colorado for an outing. I can't wait. Moral: Don't ever go on long trips with your family. Family sucks. -fastjack =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = Questions, comments, bitches, ideas, etc : z3mar@ttacs.ttu.edu : FUCK = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = Official F.U.C.K. Distribution sites and information = = Board Number Other = = ----- ------ ----- = = Immortal Hate 806.745.8879 World HQ = = Ionic Destruction 215.722.0570 Eastern HQ = = PcI 806.794.1438 NUP: ORWELL WAS RIGHT = = Purple Hell 806.791.0747 Dist. = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= = Accounts NOT guaranteed on any F.U.C.K. distribution site. If you are = = interested in writing for, or in becoming a distribution site for = = F.U.C.K. call Immortal Hate, and apply for an account, or mail Dam = = at z3mar@ttacs.ttu.edu or on Immortal Hate. Knowledge is power... = =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=