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Date Posted: 21:17:52 01/26/02 Sat
In reply to:
's message, "vroom VROOM!...i like big wheels...however..." on 20:43:19 01/26/02 Sat
Tanks dont like the letter m. Mb. so mnet is hard to get on because we are reminded of that very fact every time we try to play on...mnet. Perhaps if it was abbreviated differentely then it would be easier for us, emotionally that is, to play. Perhaps if it was "nnet" or "qnet". Perhaps. Perhaps.
Big wheels are fun, a lot of fun. There was this one time, or maybe really there wasnt, because I'm making this up, but there was a large monster truck, and some yokels who wanted to stand by the tires of this truck(we'll call him Chris). Now, these yokels were simple folk(with dreams of going to a monster truck show), and they very much liked everything super-sized. They owned a farm out by Fredricksberg which wasn't big, which might sound strange unless one knows that these farmers were horrible agriculturalists: they planted corn during the fall.
Sadly, they didn't make much money: thus, when a monster truck rally finally came to Fredricksberg they couldn't buy tickets. They cried and cried, but to no avail. They still didn't have enough money.
But fate was on their side. Chris, being the industrious monster he is, decided to exercise his pistons a bit before the big race. He revved his engine and took off down the streets of Fredricksberg. Chris passed the old church with the broken steeple, the bank vault, which was humorously the whole bank itself(after the tornado of '35, it was the only thing left standing in the whole town, thereafter, there was no money to repair it: the yokels had the highest income and owned the most land in the county, thus very little tax money was available), and the broken down tractor lot.
The tractors really saddened Chris, after all, his own uncle was a tractor, and as such he stopped next to the sorriest looking one of the bunch and paid his respects. It was the least he could do. The broken, green farm machine could barely speak, and as a result Chris had to lean very close to hear what he was saying. Chris, showing excellent driving ability, parked parallel to the old, rotting piece of industrial farm equipment.
With obvious effort, the old tractor yelled, "WATCH OUT!!" but it was much to late.
Like a pack of rabid wolves, the yokel family shot up from behind a rusted combine. They encircled Chris, and tied him up. Now, before the story continues, it should be understood that Chris could have easily gotten away but decided not to. He was a very nice, gentle monster truck.
The yokels then greedily stole Chris and forced him to help their farm: during the winter, they would all pile on the truck with their sacks of corn seed and drive him around the field while throwing seeds off the back.
The also yelled vulgarities and popped wheelies.
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