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X  ________                   ____  ___                                     X 
X  \______ \   _   _ _ __ ___ \   \/  /     Bible Black and Walrus Tusks    X 
X   |    |  \ | | | | '__/ _ \ \     /              ------------            X 
X   |    `   \| |_| | | |  __/ /     \              by Snarfblat            X 
X  /_______  / \__,_|_|  \___|/___/\  \                                     X 
Xxxxxxxxxxx\/  Blender Corporation  \_/xxxxxxx[DBC010(HMBB)-SB.921206]xxxxxxX 
 
      
     The boy threw up again.  And again.  He had been throwing up almost 
continuously since they had started to give him walrus tusks.  He wanted ball 
point pens.  Just blue ball point pens, and he thought he had made himself 
quite clear regarding this point.  Yet there they were, in the corner of his 
room, large boxes full of walrus tusks. 
 
     Some of the boxes even had a layer of blue ball point pens on top; this 
merely served as a tantalizing disguise, for under them were more walrus 
tusks.  Norton had to smile at the people who brought him the boxes, because 
if he didn't they might stop, and then there would be no chance for him to 
ever get ball point pens.  Every once in a while a box would be labeled "Ball 
Point Pens", but he would open it up and it would be filled with walrus 
tusks.  Why always walrus tusks?  Why not sand or paper plates?  No, it was 
always walrus tusks. 
 
     The closest he had come to achieving his goal was the time he got a 
whole box of blue pens.  It was labeled "Blue Ball Point Pens", but he knew 
better than to trust this.  Although he saw blue pens on the top when he 
opened the box, he knew that when he thrust his hand into the box, he would 
be greeted with the familiar cool feeling of the smooth tusks that taunted 
him continuously.  However, when he reached down, he felt only pens. 
Rapture!  He grabbed one and felt it in his hands.  It was, in fact, a blue 
ball point pen, and he suddenly had hundreds of them.  He picked up another 
one and turned to the wall where he had started his story so many years ago. 
Holding the pen carefully -- it had been so long since he had written 
anything -- he put the pen to the smooth painted concrete wall.  He began to 
write... 
 
     "The Ark landed on the shore.  Noah didn't know what to think of the 
pile of ashes surrounding the charred remains of his brother's uncle..." 
 
     Norton reared back in horror.  The writing on the wall was black!  He 
threw the sinister pen across the small room.  Undaunted, he reached into the 
box and began to write again. 
 
     "...He took one of his zebras and led it onto the island.  It sniffed 
the burnt body and exploded." 
 
     Black again.  Norton bit the pen in fury.  He felt the cool ink run down 
his face and throat.  He put his hands to his face, wiping his lips, and 
looked at the ink.  Diving head first into the falsely blue pens, he broke 
each one open. With the exception of a single red one, they all contained 
black ink.  Why had they been putting him through this torture?  Soon he 
would get a blue pen, he knew, and when he did they would all be vanquished. 
The day ended and the room smelled like dog vomit. "Vomit God!", he laughed. 
One hundred feet underground, machines ticked away, recording every one of 
Norton's vital signs. 
 
      
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 xX   Copyright (C) 1992 by The Durex Blender Corporation and Snarfblat   Xx 
xX          All Rights Reserved. Text used with kind permission.           Xx 
xX                                  * * *                                  Xx 
xX  The Durex Blender Corporation / Box 381511 / Cambridge, MA 02238-1511  Xx 
 xX                  The Eleventh Hour BBS 617.696.3146                   Xx 
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