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Mailing List Logs for ShadowRN

From: CEvans9159@***.com CEvans9159@***.com
Subject: [The Challenge] Out-of-Date
Date: Wed, 14 Apr 1999 03:35:06 EDT
"Hey, I'm doing my job just fine over here. I'm keeping his foot nice and
dry while we squat here. But just because I gotta do this job doesn't mean
I have to like it."

"I suppose I shouldn't be suprised. You are a lefty after all."

"What the hell does that mean!?"

"Hold on Frank, we're moving again."

They started running again, jumped, and started to climb a fence.

"Aw jeez, I'm getting scuffed up.. Holly Shit! Look out for the razor
wire you bafoon! I'm a hundred percent real leather and shouldn't have to
take this kind of abuse."

"For christsakes Frank," Ralph cursed as they fell toward the ground,
"we're combat boots, what did you expect, to be strolling along the mall
looking at all the pretty"

"Hey, I think we're standing on real grass," Frank interrupted.

"You're kidding!" Ralph exclaimed.

"I shit you not, I think this is real grass. Yep, it's real all
right. Feel that softness. And that smell! That smell has got to be
real grass. Ah man, I could squat in this for the rest of my life."

They started moving again, walking slowly this time.

"Ah man, this feels great," Frank said with deep contentment.

"Frank, for once I agree with you."

"Ralph, for once let's set aside our petty differences and enjoy this

"You got it Frank. I gotta admit, this feels gr.. You are not gonna
believe what I just stepped in."

"Ye gods Ralph, what is that smell? You smell worse than then the ally
behind the Catbird Lounge."

"I'm not sure. It's not dog shit. And it's a pretty big pile. I'm
suprised you're not in it too."

"Hold up there Ralph, did you just feel that tremor?"

"... yeah..."

The piasma came charging across the fresh cut grass. Ralph and Frank
glanced at eachother, screamed, and took off running like they'd never
run before.

They ran back the way they'd come, towards the fence. "Aw shit Ralph,
I can't get a good grip on this god damn grass. We're not gonna make

"We'll make it Frank, just keep running."

They leapt into the air and hit the fence, trying to find purchase on the
chain link. The Piasma, close on thier heels, lunged.

"Aiiii! It's got me Frank! It's got me!"

"Hang on there Ralph! I've got a good grip on the fence and our guy is
pulling as hard as he can!"



These messages were posted a long time ago on a mailing list far, far away. The copyright to their contents probably lies with the original authors of the individual messages, but since they were published in an electronic forum that anyone could subscribe to, and the logs were available to subscribers and most likely non-subscribers as well, it's felt that re-publishing them here is a kind of public service.