A.S.V.S Headline News "All the spam that's fit to print"

Forward

        What follows is true.  It is based on events that occurred on December the 19th through the 21st, 2003 in New York City and the surrounding area.  It was compiled through numerous interviews with the actual people involved, photographic evidence, and other eyewitness accounts. Though I have employed painstaking means to ensure presenting a complete story, there will no doubt be those who will claim that I have unfairly downplayed their role while overstating that of others.  This should come as no surprise.  As with all personal testimony, the participants frequently contradicted one another on many small points and occasionally on major ones.  In the case of the latter, I used my best judgment on what may have been an error in memory or an exaggeration and what was most likely to be the real truth.   Despite these criticisms, I believe I have succeeded in presenting as clear a history of these incredible events as is possible.

December 19th: The Gathering Storm

Somewhere over the Atlantic - Rob Wilson shifted uncomfortably in his aisle seat in a vain attempt to relieve the throbbing pain in his back. The gasping wheezing snore of his companion Lee Atkins sitting next to him did nothing to improve his mood. It wasn't simply the long flight that had soured his normally genial disposition, but rather the anxiety of what was to happen at their destination.   He had survived one of these meetings before, but only just. Aren't I simply tempting fate? he asked himself, but then again, how can I not be there?        

          Wilson was about to awaken Atkins to tell him of his impending conquest, but his attention was suddenly ripped to the moist towelette in his hand. For there, emblazened on the plastic covering were the words:

YOU TOUCHED YOURSELF AND MADE A MESS
NOW CLEAN IT UP YOU PERVERTED TOSSER!

Of course! Wilson thought as the pieces fell together, it's so obvious. It was the ATJ. Wilson was now sure of it. Their plan was clear; they would strike people at their weakest moments. A queasy stomach, sticky hands....Wilson was confident that when he examined the Amodium A-D in his luggage he would find the packaging similarly altered. He had to admire the elegant subtlety of their subversion. However, they had to be stopped.

  -------------------------------

          "Hello...yeah, I'm gonna be running a little late. It's my car....Sheppard blew it up. Yes, again! I have no idea why but I'll tell you this: my insurance agent has a picture of me on his desk next to his wife and kids.  No no...you don't have to come get me. I've already called a rental company. Okay, I'll give you a call when I reach the New Jersey Turnpike."

          As he replaced the phone, a small blue car pulled to a stop beside him. "Hello, are you.....Commander Wilkens?" the lilting voice of the driver asked. Wilkens looked down into the car and saw....

         "Breasts."

        "I'm sorry, what?"

        Dammit! Greg cursed inwardly, Better cover quickly .

        "I said 'yes',  yes I am," Wilkens explained.

        Smooth one, Wilkens, Greg thought, Now don't screw up again. Um...dude, you're still staring at her knockers. Make eye contact you idiot!

        Thankfully, the girl either didn't notice or didn't care. "I'm from Enterprise," she explained, "Hop in and I'll drive you over to the agency"

        Wilkens picked up his backpack, went around and got in the passenger seat. He turned at got his first good look at the entire package that was the female driver. She had a body that seemed more common to a strip club than the car rental business; long well-toned legs with thighs barely covered by an immodest denim skirt, an all too tight belly shirt that exhibited all her charms, and long blonde hair that cascaded over an angelic face. She was the kind of woman that made men hand over their credit card without a second's thought.  Wilkens was not unaffected.

        Wilkens, Greg warned, what are you thinking?

        You know exactly what I'm thinking, Wilkens replied.

       Yes, and it's disgusting. And haven't you forgotten? We promised to be faithful.

        Faithful, smaithful. Would you look at those tits! I want them.

        You can't have them.

        Admit it,  Wilkens challenged, we both wants them!"

        That's it! Greg exclaimed, I'm taking over before you get us into trouble.

        The girl couldn't help but notice the rapidly shifting expression on her passenger's face as she drove out of the parking lot. Concerned she asked, "Are you all right, Commander Wilkens?"

        "I'm fine, thank you. And  please, call me Greg."

        "Okay, Greg," she said. Her smile faded slightly as she continued, "I should tell you that it may be a little while before your car is ready. But don't worry," she reached over and patted his knee, "I'll keep you company while you wait."

        Greg looked down at his leg where her hand still rested lightly upon it. She turned briefly to smile brightly at him before returning her attention back to the road. Greg smiled nervously and tried to remain calm. Meanwhile, a storm raged within him.

        Oh Jesus Christ! Come on! Do you need her to draw you a map?

        No! We promised!

        Let me out, you pansy!

        You're not coming out and that's final.

        You suck, dude. You really do.

        Greg sighed. This was going to be a long difficult weekend.

        -------------------------------

Washington, D.C., Union Station - Dennis shuffled in the line for the Amtrak ticket counter. He would much rather have taken his hog, but the weather predicted for the weekend was less than favorable and there was the ever-present problem of parking in New York. This would have to do. After all, it was only a two hour train ride. Surely he could handle that without incident. But he was uncomfortable being in such a crowded place as this. There were too many people pressing in around him, too many...sinners. He could feel it in the very air, nawing at him;  the palpable aroma of transgressions screaming out to him.

        But now was neither the time or place. He had a more pressing matter to attend to: he had been summoned to a meeting of some of the most powerful people in existence. To be included among their number was a great honor. To refuse the invitation was unthinkable. And so he contained his righteous wrath....for now.

        "Next!"

        At long last he stood before the ticket agent. He was a middle-aged man whose pale skin had not seen daylight in over ten years. His once trim and fit body had become slack and somewhat rotund. The only memento he retained of his lost youth was a gold "male symbol" medallion that he continued to wear beneath his uniform. He hated his job and he despised people. What he lacked in civility he more than made up for with being loathsome. To make matters worse, he was often confused with former Vice President Al Gore. Wes Hutchings was, all-in-all, the perfect person to work the counter for Amtrak. "Where to?" he testily asked the latest person to interrupt his day with their trivial needs.

        "New York," Dennis answered, ignoring the clerks obvious attitude.

        "Lousy place," Wes taunted, "One way or round trip?"

        "Round trip returning on the 21st."

        Wes snorted, "Hardly seems worth the trip for so short a time."

        Dennis decided that the best course of action was to not engage the ticket agent nor give him any visible reaction.

        A thin smile crept over Wes's face as he quietly uttered, "Failure to hear noted," and checked off an item on the list of insults that he kept on his desk at all times. Today had been a good day; he had marked off more than half of the catalouge and it wasn't even the evening rush hour yet. It was admittedly a short list of mostly dull and witless quips, but it was the best that he could come up with. More audibly he said, "That will be $144.00."

        From his wallet, Dennis produced three fifty dollar bills and handed them across.  Wes handed back his tickets and change but before the items even were fully in Dennis's grasp called out, "Next!" dismissing Dennis as if he were a scolded schoolboy.

        Dennis walked away, glancing at the ticket for the platform number while trying to distance himself from Amtrak agent as quickly as possible. Track no. 4 train 130, he should get there in plenty of time. He fingered the change before placing it in his front pocket. Suddenly, he stopped mid-stride as his blood turned to ice. For it was then that he discovered the evil the clerk had perpetrated upon him: there were only five dollars in his now clenched fist when there should be six. This could not go unpunished.

        "Failure to comprehend noted," Wes gleefully said to the elderly woman in front of him. Perhaps today would be the day he marked off all the items on his index. His revelry was short-lived as he heard a voice call out above the din of the station:

       ^"VENGENCE IS MINE^"
        Wes Hutchings' mind could scarcely grasp the horrific visage before him. A huge figure was charging his counter. It moved like a man but that could not be, for where a face should be was a skull wrapped in fire. From its arms snaked chains of white-hot metal that even now hurtled toward him, wounding tightly about his neck and torso. Pain, such as he had never dreamt possible, wracked his writhing body.

        The sins of his life flashed before him, magnified tenfold. As the nature of his crimes increased, so did the torture his body was subjectd to.    Cheating off the girl next to him in Home Ec.....blisters formed on his exposed skin......voting for Dukakis....his hair began to smolder.....writing 'A Storied Past'.....smoke began to billow from every orifice.....unnatural acts with a mop and other household items....his very blood was boiling in his veins. And then the cou de gras of his iniquities.....willfully attending an Andy Gibb concert....his entire body burst forth in flames.

        Back at the Amtrack counter, the old woman leaned over, looked around and asked, "Is there anyone else who can help me?"

To be continued.....

Back to Contents