__ __ /\ \ __/\ \ __ \ \ \/\ \ \ \ __ _ __ ___ /\_\ ___ __ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ /'__`\ /\`'__\/' _ `\/\ \ /' _ `\ /'_ `\ \ \ \_/ \_\ \/\ \L\.\_\ \ \/ /\ \/\ \ \ \/\ \/\ \/\ \L\ \ \ `\___x___/\ \__/.\_\\ \_\ \ \_\ \_\ \_\ \_\ \_\ \____ \ '\/__//__/ \/__/\/_/ \/_/ \/_/\/_/\/_/\/_/\/_/\/___L\ \ /\____/ \_/__/ Issue 5, 1/23/2002 Written by: The Warning Crew Copyright © 2002 The Warning Crew Website: http://warningzine.microsux.com ~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ Contacts: Editor: Happy_Hardcor3@punkmusic.com Admin: cphifer@subdimension.com Advertising: cphifer@subdimension.com ~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ ~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ The Editor Speaks ----------------- I think I am suppose to tell you something about this issue of the zine but I really don't want to, because I am not quite shure why. So the only thing you can do is deal with it. Just read the zine and be merry. Happy_Hardcor3 ~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ AD: www.noahphex.com Home of Noahphex. Get Hardcore! ~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ BIG RED RIDING CAPE ------------------- Once upon a time there was a little girl who had a red cape and a red hood. She was on her way to grandma's house with a basket of food because grandna was hungry and tooolazy to feed herself. The girl had to go through the woods to get to grandma's house because thats the kind of story this is. Onthe way she sang a song she wrote. Here are the words. A tisket, a tasket, A green and yellow basket. I put a letter in the top And on the way I dropped it. I dropped it, I dropped it And on the way I dropped it. A little boy picked it up And put it in his pocket. Yeah, the chick really cooked. But it was this very song that got her into trouble. The wolf heard her from a long way off and decided that he was hugnry. He figured he had three options: he could steal the basket and eat the food; he could steal Little Red Riding Hoood and eat her; or he could steal the song and make a bundle and never be hungry again. Needless to say, being pretty slick as wolves go, he decided stealing the song was infinitely better. After all the food would be gone in ten minutes, if that; and "Red," as he affectionately began thinking of her, would probably only last through the evening. But he was sure that the song would become a classic (with the right promotion, of course). So he set off in the direction of Red's mellifluous voice. Now, at this point, the wolf knew what his goal was, but he didn't have a plan. He just had the basics down: he'd make friends with her, get her to invite him home, slip her a mickey ransack her house for the sheet music, and split. Simple, yet effective. Yes indeed. Very effective. Very effective. He lit out in the direction of her voice, and pretty soon came upon her skiping merrily along. Red was actually not one to skip, but she'd gotten a blister from the long walk and it helped keep pressure off the bad foot. The wolf followed her a ways, slinking behind trees and such wolf nonsense, until she'd finally had it and sat down for a rest. for a rest. He decided the best approach was to ask about her health and if he could be of service (a little gallantry couldn't hurt). He started "ahem-ing" and clearing his throat as he moved in, so she wouldn't get too freaked out. When he finally reached her he said, "Pardon me lovely lady, but if you are in some kind of distress, I do hope you will allow me to be of assistance.) (pretty smooth, huh?) Well, Red had only heard that kind of talk on television, so she looked up at him like he was crazy. But, she thought, if he was so anxious to "be of assistance," maybe she could get him to take the basket to grandma's for her. "Oh, sir," she said, trying to remember what they had sounded like in The Count of Monte Cristo. "Perhaps you would be so kind as to deliver this basket of food to my grandmama (with the emphasis on the last "ma"). She is ill and has no one to care for her." (And, she wanted to add, she eats like a horse, but decided against it. Whoops, thought Red. She hadn't baragained on this. But she thought, why not; he looks harmless enough. So she gave him grandma's address and her own and started making her way back home. Now, this was just the opening the wolf was looking for. "I would be delighted, my dear," said he. "Just tell me where I may return the basket." The wolf, of course, being hungry, waited until she was out of sight and sat down to eat. There was fried chicken, biscuits, potato salad, and some rhubarb pie for dessert. No doubt about it -- Red was a terrible cook, but at least he was full. All he had to do now was wait until dark and show up at Red's house. Meanwhile, Red skipped on home to soak her foot. She'd been home about an hour when the phone rang. It was grandma asking where her food was. Red explained what had happened and told grandma to call out for a pizza and put it on Red's tab. But it made her very suspicous of the wolf's motives, and she decided that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to have given him her address. What to do, what to do. "Ahah!" she exclaimed (with the emphasis on the "hah"). "I'll just invite the guys over -- just in case." See, she worked with a band called "Big Red and the Capelets," (a motley bunch of hoods with hearts of gold) and even though they weren't rehearsing that night, she knew where to find them. Red called the local pool hall and asked for Dizzy. When he answered, she told him what the story was and requested the honor of the guys' presence at her place ASAP. When he hung up, Dizzy raced over to tell the guys. They immediately cleared the tables they'd been shooting on (see, they'd kind of been playing poorly to hustle a couple of newcomers), collected their dough, hung up their cue sticks, and jumped in their '67 white Volkswagen convertible, called White Flash. in no time at all, they were knocking on Red's door. Red told them that they could just hide in the bedroom. When the wolf showed up, she'd make some excuse to leave the room to see if he was up to no good -- and if he was, they should jump him. The guys did as they were told, and about five minutes later, they heard a knock at the door. The wolf had come courting, flowers in the basket and a bottle of Chateau Neuf du Pape, vintage 1932. Red greeted him cordially and told him it was too much. Being the rake that he was, he just bowed low, saying "Not at all, mademoiselle." He figured he had it made. It was just a good thing that he couldn't hear the guys going "ugh," "feh," and "boo" from the next room. Anyway, Red asked him to squat and went to the kitchen for glasses and a vase. While she was out of the room, the wolf pulled a little vial of sleeping powder out of wherever wolves keep things, ready to slip into her wine when her back was turned. Red returned and poured the wine, put the flowers in the vase, and sat down on the chair farthest from the wolf. They were actually both a little uncomfortable, knowing that they were trying to put one over on each other. So, besides some "ahems" and general throat clearing, not much was happening. You could definitely call it a less than thrilling encounter. Needless to say, the natives in the back room were getting restless. They had the bedroom door open just a crack so they could see out, and they were all crouched and piled on top of each other so each one could eyeball the scene himself. All of a sudden, Wazoo's got a charley horse in his leg and it buckled out from under him. Since Uriah had been sitting on his shoulders, they both fell over with a thud, knocking over the lamp by the bed, turning on the clock radio, and spilling hot wax from the candle onto Island's kneecap (he always wore plaid Bermuda shorts). When the wolf heard all the to-do, he jumped from his chair and made a beeline out the door. In the midst of the meelee, the guys scrambled to their feet and leapt out at him. The wolf was fast, boy. No doubt about it. But, unfortunately for him, one of the disadvantages of a tail is that it's never quite up to where you are. So, with the amazing presence of mind that comes only from years of dealing with turkeys, Red slammed the door -- right on the poor wolf's tail. He was caught. Boy, was he caught. And, boy did that hurt. Not being one to hide his true feelings, the wolf let out a scream loud enough to wake grandma at the other side of the forest. Red then opened the door, and the wolf fell panting to the ground. Just as he thought he'd bought it for sure, the guys came bounding out onto the porch, yelling "That's it! That's what we've been looking for! It's great! Oh wow!" and the like. With tears in his eyes and blood on his tail, the wolf started begging "Please don't kill me. I promise I'll be good. I'll never bother any of you again and I'll get a 99-year subscription to ROLLING STONE --anything." "Kill you?" asked the guys. "Whose talking about killing you? That sound you made -- can you make it without getting a door slammed on your tail?" The wolf definitely thought that he had encountered several institution escapees, but figured he'd play along. He didn't have much choice. So he tried a few shrieks and screams. He was actually not doing too well, until he remembered his Stanislavsky training, and recreating the pain in his mind, he let out one heck of a hoot. The guys jumped off the porch and congratulated him, pumping his paw up and down giving him noogies in the shoulder. Finally, he just said, "I hate to interrupt this, but what's going on?" Dizzy, being the sharpest member of the group (which, of course, is not saying much), brought his exuberance under control and blurted out "That sound, that sound, that sound!" Red finally intervened and told the wolf that there was a particular sound that they had never been able to get on the synthesizer. They knew it was just the sound they needed to make a million seller out of a tune they'd written -- and it was the sound he'd just made. Since they knew the wolf wasn't going anywhere, Red and the guys stepped up on the porch for a quick meeting. Then Red went over to the wolf and explained their proposition. They wanted him to join the band as a permanent member, but since he'd been basically rotten, he had to make up for it by bringing grandma her food four times a week. If he agreed, they'd let him live. If not, they'd wear him next winter. It was certainly an offer he couldn't refuse. So after bringing grandma her food the next morning, they all went into the studio to lay down the extra wolf tracks. About a month later, a very famous disk jockey named Jack, who had empathy for wolf sounds heard the tune, and PR'ed it into a big hit. Now Red's got a new mink cape, the guys each have his own Mercedes, grandma's got a live-in servant, and the wolf got plastic surgery for his tail. And they all lived happily ever after. ~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ That Cup -------- that cup is in front of me that cup has not moved maybe I should pick it up what if it bites me it would probably hurt my mind is set on that cup i am going to pick it up it does not bite i sat the cup back down ~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ AD: The Anti-Police Campaign Tell everyone the police fuckin suck! ~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ I want to start a political party! ---------------------------------- I want to start a political party! If anyone wants to help then just email me and we will see what we can do. I am serious about this so you should be serious too. ~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ To sumit articles to Warning Zine. Email them to Happy_Hardcor3@punkmusic.com. We are looking for lots of submissions. We would also like you to let your friends know about Warning. If you would like to advertise send to the advertising address given. Thank You For Reading Warning!