Article: 288764 of talk.bizarre
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
From: (G. Allen Perry)
Subject: External vs. Internal Liquification: A Systemic Analysis
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Organization: G.B.S., Ltd.
Date: Tue, 3 Dec 1996 04:19:22 GMT
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While sitting in the back seat of the beautifully reconditioned
International Harvester Scout on the road from Goma to Kigali, I can
only sit and shake with rage at the lack of air conditioning. Why wont
these people just get out of the way so that we can drive a little
faster and use the accesories in this vehicle to their fullest extent.

I haven't slept in several days now because I've been frantically
searching for the perfect photo opportunity for this years Christmas
cards. My search has thus far been fruitless.

A former Sergeant Major and current employee of PMRI explained to me
when I got here that, "The natives are in the habit of waiting until
they've rounded up four or five of the Hutu militiamen before
performing the executions. Apparently  they're attempting to conserve
fuel by tying the militiamen into a bundle before setting them on

While the bundles of burned Hutu militiamen sounded like a perfect
photo opportunity when I first arrived, the actual "pep rally sites",
as the expats are calling them, are very disappointing. In the process
of burning, the flesh of all the bundled militiamen melts together to
create one large, rather smelly and indistinguishable blob. I
certainly do not want to spend the next year explaining what I was
standing next to in the Christmas card photo.

My zeal to create a lasting holiday memory, along with several
sleepless nights and the aid of some potent psychoactive substances,
has caused me to forget why I was even sent here in the first place. I
vaguely recall some attempt to make a cogent and timely analysis of
the military situation for "The Economist."

The last Brit I spoke with was the Sergeant Major and that was right
before I met those kids from the T.V. station in Toronto. I still
haven't run out of the inspiration they gave me.

The time between then and now has been a haze. It is unclear which
scenes were hallucinations and which were real. My mind drifts in and
out of my surroundings and on to memories of my past and daily
banalities. As I will certainly never work for The Economist again, I
wonder how this will read in T.B.

About ten miles into Rwanda, well beyond the prying eyes of most of
the press, the new Tutsi government has set up a road block to
interrogate returning Hutus. A large being in a uniform, that is some
kind of a cross between one of the mountain gorillas and an offensive
lineman for the cowboys, is holding a pistol to the back of a man's
head who is kneeling on the side of the road.

Sensing that an execution is about to occur, I jump from my vehicle
and run toward the scene pleading for the uniformed creature to wait
until I can pose myself into the picture or possibly to allow me to
pull the trigger for the best effect. The uniformed creature quickly
turns and hits me in the forehead with the butt of his pistol,
knocking me to the ground. I look up with the feeling that  I've
entered some Charlton Heston movie that I can only vaguely remember.
The creature has clearly misunderstood my pleadings and I am unable to
understand the language it is screaming and grunting at me as I lay

I sheepishly grin as the blush of embarassment overcomes me. I've
completely forgotten that I speak no Gorilla and clearly this creature
speaks no English. After slowly rising and returning humbly to the
trusty Scout, I drift away.

As I sit in the rear seat, I put on the headphones to my discman and
crank the volume. Some techno compilation with a song that sounds like
a person trying to imitate chicken noises blairs loudly into my ears.
The problems with my vision seem greater when I close my eyes. As the
vehicle rolls along more freely now, my mind drifts to a drill
sergeant trying to explain the definition of "Wolf Pussy" to me in a
past life. I wonder how he would handle this situation and realize
that he wouldn't.
"I want to feel what Mary felt when God spent his seed."

- Unknown -