[Rhodes22-list] Please unsubscribe me

[Jack Chirch]

Brad

That is brilliant!   I nominate Slim to adapt it and administer it when
appropriate.

 

-----Original Message-----
From: rhodes22-list-bounces at rhodes22.org
[mailto:rhodes22-list-bounces at rhodes22.org] On Behalf Of Brad Haslett
Sent: Monday, February 18, 2008 9:27 AM
To: The Rhodes 22 mail list
Subject: [Rhodes22-list] Please unsubscribe me

This came in on one of my other lists.  Perhaps we can modify it for future
use.  Brad

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

"The Unsubscribed"

The cold fog thickened noticeably as the newcomer hurried towards his
destination. He pulled his heavy overcoat around his neck a little more
tightly.  This part  of the city was not a place to tarry.  Thieves and
whores were the only permanent residents here.  Even the cops rolled through
these streets with a nervousness and an edge to heir normal macho banter.
Trouble and misery closed around everyone who ventured into this pustule of
urban blight like a leech on a warm vein.

"Damn!", he hissed under his breath as he stepped on something soft that
squealed and skittered off into the darkness and dankness of the mist.  It
can't be much farther he thought.  It mustn't be much farther. The sickly
yellow flicker of light from a street lamp shone dimly through the fog as he
quickened his pace.

There it was.  The doorway seemed to be just blackness without  definition.

As he got closer, two winos eyed him suspiciously through bloodshot and

yellowed eyes.  He hustled past them, their breath leaving a rank scent that
lingered on his clothes.  The door pushed inward and the  newcomer was
inside.

The room was smoky and dim.  The bar stank of liquor and broken dreams.

Several tables decorated the periphery.  The man he had come to see was
sitting at one of those tables and beckoned him over to sit.  The man  was
darkly clothed and utterly shapeless.  He might have weighed three hundred
pounds... or he may have been only bone.  His shape was indecipherable.  The
dark mans eyes were gazing down at the dirty glass  in his hand, half filled
with cheap margaritas.  He had been reading a  glossy magazine filled with
lurid and obscene images.  He folded it tenderly  and stuffed it quickly
into his coat pocket like a vulture gobbling a rotten piece of flesh.

"What is it you want of me?", the dark man asked, not lifting his eyes  from
the glass.  His voice rumbled deep in his belly like a toad.

"I need you to tell me how to unsubscribe", said the newcomer in as  even a
tone as he could muster.

The dark man looked up from his glass slowly to gaze at the newcomer.
His eyes were a pale watery blue.  And his gaze lingered on the newcomer.

"You wish to unsubscribe?", he said, with a hint of amusement in his voice
but no trace of a smile on his thick pasty lips.  "You come to me with a
need to unsubscribe?", he said, his voice getting louder now and any hint of
amusement gone.  He sucked in his breath and hissed through his teeth
spraying the newcomer with a repulsive mist of spittle, "Why?
Tell me why it is that you wish to unsubscribe."

The newcomer felt fear now creeping up his spine.  "I don't have the time to
sort through all the posts", he mumbled.

The dark man sat unmoved, his eyes stared at the newcomer without emotion.
His eyes were cold and amphibian.

"And I sold the Bonanza and bought a Cirrus", added the newcomer. He
realized in a heart beat that he should not have said that.  The dark man
had him by the throat with a quickness that seemed otherworldly. And the
dark man squeezed that throat as the newcomer wriggled and squirmed in a
voiceless scream.  The dark man pulled the newcomers face to his own until
they nearly touched noses.  He breathed his fetid breath on the newcomer and
a trickle of drool escaped his mouth to plop loudly on the table between
them.

"Go!", he rumbled.  "Go now you fool!", he bellowed.  "Run if you can.  It
shall do you no good!  Once you have subscribed, all hope of ever
unsubscribing is gone!  We will find you.  Your email is now ours to
control.  Your email box will fill to bursting with our messages.
And there is no hope for you.  There is no good deed you can do to change
what you have done.  The List will not be denied!"

And with that he released the newcomer who reeled and staggered towards the
door, gagging and stumbling.  The dark man began to laugh, a low rumbling
laugh that grew louder.  The newcomer fled up the streets as he had come
with the croaking bellowing laughter chasing him.  He was doomed...and he
knew it.

The dark man sat back at the table in the dimly lit bar and sipped at his
drink.

"I guess I could have just told him to go to
http://lists.aviating.com/mailman/listinfo/beech-owners and use the one

click unsubscribe URL at the end of page", he muttered under his breath. No,
he smiled to himself.  That would have been all too easy.  Still chuckling
to himself, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the magazine he had
been reading before the newcomer interrupted him.  He quickly thumbed
through the slick and edge worn pages until he found his place. He never
missed a single word of each and every issue of Martha Stewart Living...

Anonymous
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