Phi11y’s P-Hines{T} /> #Hardcore PHant-[O]m$: Part Three, Chapter Twelve

Excerpts from r(E)volutionized contributor John Corry’s satire Phi11y’s P-Hines{T} /> #Hardcore PHant-[O]m$

Physical front, back and spine of Corry’s Phi11y’s P-Hines{T} /> #Hardcore PHant-[O]m$.

Physical front, back and spine of Corry’s Phi11y’s P-Hines{T} /> #Hardcore PHant-[O]m$.

12/31/18, 2:51 pm EST

By John Corry

From the flap:

“Imagine if Tom Wolfe had been born in 1975 and instead of writing 'Radical Chic and Mau-Mauing the Flak Catchers' in 1970, he'd have written a book about the state of society and it's obsession with social media, internet fame and all of the intricacies that go along with it. On shrooms. Using Chuck Palahniuk's 'Pygmy' as his sole piece of inspiration.... you'd have John Corry's 'Phi11y's P-Hines[T] /> #Hardcore Phant-[O]m$'.” -Travis Besecker (author and comedy writer)

After 19-year-old reformed gang member Randall Gähstŭr is brutally murdered at the start of the Baltimore riots of 2015, the subsequent investigation leads both his former closest friends and the two very different special agents assigned to investigating the case into a web of conspiracy involving everything from police corruption, to global world domination, to manipulated/unnecessarily clung-to gang violence (relatively defined), war, and, eventually /> r(E)volution.

Every Monday and Friday, we’ll be releasing 1-2 chapters of r(E)volutionized contributor John Corry’s Phi11y’s P-Hines{T} /> #Hardcore PHant-[O]m$. You check it out here, get a free PDF here, or check it out on Amazon, or on Barnes and Noble.

Parental discretion is advised.

XII

April 26th 2017

11:22 a.m.

Definitely relevant[1] >

This was a shitty place. In the land of the almighty, the all-powerful, the sole singular divinity with no equal, no person, no other! #ASingularDivinity (Death: the only singular divinity)

They had all the kids lined up, single-file-style, in a line a few feet from the wall. Each was holding a gun, some AKs, some assault rifles, some simple handguns, and they were all facing another wall about thirty feet away, and parallel to theirs. The best weapons (that was: whatever was left over after manning the grown men) were saved for the boys who’d best displayed their most unwavering commitment to the almighty Allah (GOD ($)). Against the other wall were sixteen infidels who had sinned against the great Will of Allah (GOD, ($)). Each had a bag over her/his head. There were a slew of high-ranking Douchebag™ Alabama Hot Pocket Rusty Trombone Meat Flap officials there (or: servants of the biggest and most popular (real) terrorist™ organization in the Middle-East at the time (name?=don’t-fucking-matter™)), we’ll call the main ones Abdul, Abisha and Amjad. Ironic they all had names starting with an ‘A’, but whatever, don’t blame the writer, blame the lord, right (same thing?)?

XDDD

These were the three guys mostly working the kids, these ‘A’ brothers, and their ‘group’ was doing well by April of 2017, in the eyes of some. After a major domestic political transition in the United States several months before, they were able to undermine this new collection of positivity in the West unnoticed /> and had successfully mobilized to capture most of Saudi Arabia and much of Syria. Although their crazy rhetoric was finally beginning to see a decline in its crazy effect on crazy Americans, there were certainly enough crazy people in the rest of the crazy world–and still very much so in crazy America, mind you–who continued to hear a desire for change from whatever source appearing willing to take any existential ‘risk’[2]. But not really. It was fucked. If you’ve never met the person, if you don’t even know her/his name, what they look like, what they talk like, or even the-all-important what race they are (!!!), how do you know that they truly deserve to die? Wouldn’t Allah (GOD ($)), at the very least, want you to use that big brain-thing she gave you to at least debate whether or not what the person did was wrong? And even if what she/he did were wrong, who you are you to take her/his life for it, alone? Are you #ASingularDivinity ? Wouldn’t God be pissed that you were trying to wield her power? Trying to claim her as if she were something small enough to be claimed or understood in her fullest sense by the ‘simple mind of man’? Alright, that’s enough, let’s move on to more important things />

Wouldn’t she be angry that you were using her words as if they had nothing to do with her voice, with her mind? Thinking that you’re a true believer, but talking and acting as though Allah (GOD ($)) couldn’t exist as anything more than a simple set of written or, worse, spoken ideals? I thought she was too grand for any human to fully grasp?! Wouldn’t that mean that lessons learned in-time are more important than those learned only from one book? Writing and talking are very different things, as you can’t take back what you write down and let others read. Once they’ve read it, they’ve got it in their heads, and they will form the necessary judgments, but when they hear you talk, they can argue with you, and you, and they, can adjust points accordingly; we can work with other people and unite the blame after thinking about it individually when the opportunity arises, instead of taking it all ourselves or throwing it all onto others #BlameIsAConfusionOfTheIndividualV.SocietalMinds #ButYo-uBelieveSomethingIDon’tBelieve?BLASPHEMY! #AnythingW-hichTellsYouNotToQuestionItIsTheFirstThingWhichNeedsToBeQuestioned #FUCKTheDevilTho,Right? –

What better way for the devil to disguise itself than as ‘God’, or as the self-described unequivocal voice of the universe?

xp

,|,

Abisha approached this main pack of kids, now all huddled together in a circle. Abdul and Amjad were teaching them how to load the clip, but when Abisha walked up, they took a step back. Abisha had a reputation =(, and he was especially taken with this young, tall, skinny dude a little older than some of the others (he was around eleven, the others were closer to nine).

Abisha walked up to just in front of him, knelt down to eye (couch?) level.

For sake of easier understanding, I’ll translate to English (على الرحب و السعة').

“You enjoying yourself there, kid?”

The kid had nothing to say, just stood there and didn’t move. His thinking and his feeling were so convoluted and all over-the-place that they weren’t there /> practically, they didn’t exist anymore–

“Child of Allah (GOD ($))?” Abisha asked.

This particular kid, unlike most children in that area at that time (or: exactly like them? xP), had something of a history that nobody, yet everybody, yet knew. This Douchebag retard™ clitty litter terrorist (assmucus) ‘organization’ (rotten jizz-bag with dead insects also in it (and pig guts)) had captured him running away from a village in Syria just after European forces had air-bombed it and left it and its dying civilians to rot. They knew how many civilians were there, yet, just like throughout the rest of history, they didn’t give a flying shit-fuck. Their cause was what mattered, the bigger picture, and their own citizens were just pieces in the stew–necessary but expendable. But what about the journalists? Or the ‘Buddhists’ (stoners)? What about the college educated, or the #GoodWillHuntings ?

/> They’d only waste money, time and money ><. They didn’t matter, nor could any opinion or educated point that they may have had on the subject ($).

Life mattered.

War mattered.

She and he mattered <3–

God mattered–

Jesus mattered–

Allah mattered–

The Koran mattered–

The economy mattered ($)–

And none of those things were a waste of money…

($)($)($)

“You know the Verses of the Holy Koran?” Abisha asked the kid. He nodded affirmatively. His dad used to read them every day to him because he thought they were beautiful, and that they would help his son to grow into a respectable human being who cared about love, open-mindedness, humility, and true humanity (you know, probably the original reason for any religion, but whatever :/).

“2:191-193”

The kid recited the verse.

“5:33.”

Again, the kid recited the verse.

“9:5.”

After the child was finished repeating what were arguably three of the most gruesome and violent verses in the Holy Koran, written over 700 years ago, and passed down from generation to generation as a full piece (theoretically)[3], Abisha stood up and patted him on the head. Then he turned, pointed to the wall, and walked a few steps away.

“Shoot that man.”

The kid looked at the wall on the other side. There was only one person there now, the bag just taken from his head to reveal a bloody rag stuffed in his mouth held there by some wrapped-around duct tape, and an eye socket /> with no eye ;\. All of the other men, women and children previously against that wall had been either shot and/or carried off while the kid was reciting his lines. He saw them in the corner of his eye, but certainly not in the corner of his brain–or heart <3–or at least not yet.

</3

Ashiba called again: “Shoot him!”

The kid could barely hold the gun, his body was so small. He looked from the relatively huge American assault rifle in his shaking hands to the man against the wall. He was an old man, looked utterly helpless /> race, religion, and nationality pretty much go straight out the window when someone looked as bad as that

Abisha knelt down, grabbed the gun gripped loosely in the child’s hands, aimed it for him at #TheManAgainstTheWall –

“This man is a sinner against Allah! He is a nonbeliever, he MUST DIE!!”

“Death to the infidels!” Abdul called from behind, and several others cheered, and repeated–

Abisha, whispered into the kid’s ear: “If you do not kill that man, you are not a fighter for the good of the world…”

Another rush of thought ran through his veins. The kid wanted to tell Abisha that he didn’t know the man against the wall, and, therefore, that he couldn’t justify killing him, but he didn’t know how to say that /> he didn’t know how to say anything as any thought he’d had in his head at that moment was necessarily turned to forgettable mush; it was a survival instinct. He didn’t have time for that, who would?! He could be killed for taking too long, or for saying the wrong (single) word. His childish instincts told him to simply drop the gun, and run away, but his knowledge wouldn’t let him do that /> he’d be killed, or so said what knowledge he was still able to see. Was this what his father wanted? To follow the words no matter what he felt or thought about them? Or what his intellectual instincts may have been trying to hear or debate? His father’d never told him what those specific verses were about, nor what they meant on a deeper level, nor what they might have meant in any fashion; in fact, his dad usually skimmed over those specific ones, and emphasized, in passing, ignorance to anything that made him, or anyone else, feel terrible, or like life was ‘off’, when that was impossible. ‘Life isn’t naturally ‘off’, something conscious has to make it that way…’

The kid memorized those lines because he appreciated Allah, and the love the possibility of her existence could imply, not to be told someone else wasn’t worth Time ($), and that somebody this kid didn’t know didn’t deserve life when the kid couldn’t even make that justification about himself, personally, because he wasn’t the only person in the universe, let alone its center. ‘Unless he were Allah?’ he thought. ‘One of the many versions of Allah?’ But the Koran said that type of thinking was wrong, and that, eventually, to compare one’s self with the almighty in any way whatever was punishable by rape and death /> stoning, no questions asked. However, ‘even the verses that I don’t yet understand deserve some thought,’ he figured, probably much more so when he got older, but the kid didn’t know that completely, not in the way grown-ups did. All he knew then was that he saw beauty in those words, whatever they meant, that he and his father had shared a memory better than all the lives of the world combined, and that his father wasn’t around anymore…

And that, thanks to some ‘white’ people, neither was his mom or his brother or his sister or his friend, Bashad, or–

Abisha, a ruthless sergeant for the biggest Douchebag Contest for the Ultimate Sausage Queen (jerk-offs) in history, a murderer/fuck-boi/sinner against Allah of the worst FUCKING caliber, was starting to make some fucking sense–

“SHOOT THE NONBELEIVER OR YOU WILL NOT BE A SERVANT OF ALLAH!!!”

Abisha stood up, pulled a handgun and pointed it at the kid’s face, its shaft a mere inch from his nose–

“Only servants of Allah, only the best deserve life.”

The kid pointed the AK, and that was it /> that was it right there. He knew he was a servant of Allah (GOD, ($)), it was a fact; a child of Allah (GOD, ($)), and if Allah (GOD, ($)) commands it, His goals must be met. The kid ignored his instincts for thought or opinion for the last time; they would no longer come, cloudy or otherwise. After that moment, there was only Allah (GOD, ($)), and the memories the kid had had with his family, but never the feelings, questions, or possibilities for realized real-world-happiness they may have evoked. Not anymore. Feeling and deep thought belonged to Allah (GOD, ($)), and to Allah (GOD, ($)) alone, too good, and too powerful for the feeble mind of man to understand within himself in any way, too grand for the human mind to justifiably even attempt to see, so much so that one simple idea, compact and one sentence long, or any thought at an attempt at understanding Allah (GOD ($))’s beauty constituted a sin against the very essence of human ‘intellect’, basic survival, and reason, and implied death. Imme-diate death–stoning–definitely no questions asked–‘no-mind’–plain and simple #GetOverIt .

‘For the Will of Allah (GOD, ($)),’ the child thought at the last moment…

The infidel’s nonbelieving brains SPLATTERED against the wall like a water balloon with a big ‘SPLAT!’ sound and his eyes went ‘POOF!’ and his open neck SHOT out like from a fire hose and his body twitched as it toppled over and–

Yea…

:/ >=H >< ;\ ;\ ;\ ;\ ;\ >>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<< XXXXp xxxXXXXXXXOOOOOOOOPPPPPPPPPP x/ ===HHH XHH <^> o.O />

/>

[1] SO relevant…

[2] In the case of any religion: the fact that they may be wrong (this obviously may be more on a subconscious level, but is true nonetheless)

[3] So: those three verses are not meant to represent the entire thing