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

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$.

1/4/19, 10:18 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.


April 28th, 2015

10:32 p.m.

Palmer awoke from one of the best sleeps of his life (!) (=D), and looked at the clock. 10:33 it read. ‘Time moves fast,’ he thought.

Keep static like wool fabric…’ [1]

 He turned over and looked at Officer Saves’ slumbering head on the pillow. ‘Beautiful,’ he thought to himself like a pussy (bitch?) (=D). She was turned the other way so all he could see was her somehow still perfectly straight, still glistening-off-of-the-moonlight-on-such-a-clear-yet-cold-night blonde hair, but it made no difference /> he’d had such a crush on her for so long! How could this have finally happened with there not being something totally off-base within the ultimate time-space continuum of the universe?! Palmer knew there must have been something wrong, otherwise, things would have felt better overall…

He knew it…


He was tattooed by the case, by now: Palmer was obsessed.  As they lie in bed together that night at or around 10:30 PM or so (ish), cuddling just before falling asleep for the night (bitches (so early XD)), Saves made him promise not to talk about the case anymore, or: not until the next morning when her buddies from state were to come in–people who could be trusted–who had, as they’d told Saves, gotten some very interesting information, some ‘very interesting information’ indeed. She was sure that this was a conspiracy #SoSure-*TheMostSure , possibly going all the way up to the federal level, or even beyond–

Of course, Palmer knew all of this as well, he just didn’t legitimately consider it as much: the facts regarding their case and the animosity they may have been facing as a result of their interest in, or their uncovering of, certain aspects of it. Even aside from that terrible display at the precinct preceding his departure, he’d seen how some cops treated people, how many of the higher-ups not only accepted this behavior, but in many cases, rewarded it ($$$) /> yet that their main point (of honor and validated protection in a dangerous situation) was still very valid, and that this tended to often be forgotten amongst avid protesters /> who also had a point to exist, but who succumbed to violence rather than humanity (see: many other points presented in this book =D). ‘How does one deal with such a seemingly unanswerable conundrum?!?!’ Palmer thought. Once again, it was something of a pickle, but, in this case, the cucumber was practically fucking rotten black–

Palmer had only been a cop for a short week before being fired like the #FuckingLoser he was #TotalLoser*TotalLoser($) , but that was more than enough time to see what the real problem was, and what all Sergeant Fucs really cared about deep down (as far as Palmer could tell ;\): consensus, making enough money to pay himself and the corporations controlling the government, which meant meeting a certain quota in tickets, arrests and court settlements. ‘Twas the way things had to be at the time, and that they could never be changed (as they were products of GOD (!!!) ($) (love?): ‘twas the mindset.

This wasn’t to say that Sergeant Fucs was a bad dude however, even according to Palmer, quite the contrary, in fact. Palmer knew of Fucs’ history beyond what Gähstŭr had told him and Saves, and he knew that when Fucs first started out as a state trooper a few decades ago (centuries??? =O), long before he’d been partnered up with Gähstŭr at the 2nd and 3/9th’s precinct, he’d been exceptionally exuberant at his job /> his real job: helping people, ridding the streets of the criminal fuck-heads who thought that killing and stealing were okay, and finding out the difference between those people and the people who were simply victims of a system designed to keep some (many) people down so that the rest (few) could flourish[2]. Unlike Gestarrè, Former Special-Agent-turned-Sergeant Fucs was a genuinely good guy all those years ago in the midst of youth naturally growing old /> until (like everybody :( ) something changed in him.


Palmer didn’t know what that was, or could have been–nor did he care (about that)–nor would he have ever thought to look anywhere not obvious from the get-go anyway #AnActual-PointAgainstMillennials(Sorry,Guys¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ).

Gestarrè, on the other hand, was a little different.


At first, Palmer found his former partner Special Agent Gestarrè to be a nurturing mentor, a brilliant teacher who taught tough lessons and had an attitude problem only because he’d seen so much fucked up shit throughout his years on the force (or: being alive? :/). He knew that there were many police officers who fit into this category–more than many–into this more ‘optimistic’ and #Mature way of viewing their work–Officer Saves’ father for one, whom she’d described to Palmer on their car ride up to the burbs to meet with Former Officer Gähstŭr (Mr. Former Officer Patrick Saves was killed off-duty by a drug dealer/known gang member all hacked up on bath salts…)–but Palmer knew damn well that Gestarrè didn’t (fit into this category). He’d seen enough after three days /> enough to know that Gestarrè didn’t actually care about anything anymore, and that he’d #BrokenBad #We’reAllWalterWhite . By now, Palmer figured that Gestarrè didn’t even have the ability to care anymore even if he wanted to, in a way similar to how Sergeant Fucs had been forced to think after he’d fully ‘grown up’, who also would have lost his own job had the quotas not been met.

After much thought that night, however *TheMostTh-ought –that miraculous night in April, 2015 when everything changed and humanity finally grew past that confused and rebellious adolescent phase it had been in for what felt like the longest fucking time in existence #Forever #TheLongestTime #TheLongestFuckingTime –Palmer figured that he needed to decide something–something of UTMOST importance (!): that he was never going to let that happen to him (grow up ‘unnaturally’).

Palmer may have had lost his ability to be an Individual (allegedly (bitch?) :/), Fucs his ability to think for himself and do what decent human instinct may have told him was right (ASSHOLE), but Gestarrè seemingly didn’t lose anything. He just reacted and pushed aside, not out of necessity as so many good cops do, but out of an existential need to push aside what hurts at the cost of those suffering, and when a large group of people in a society ignore what it is which hurts them (small dicks? enlarged clits? a fear of trying new things?) at the cost of others-in-the-society’s suffering, it is only more people who suffer (and usually those with the same title as the original finger-pointer, because everyone else then stereotypes them in a similar way (as arrogant, heartless, stupid, etc. whatever traits are associated with it)).

Because nothing hurts like watching other people hurt, so much so that it’s the most popular, most over-looked and subconscious thing that people turn away from, and force themselves to forget about–

It’s a ruse!!!! (!!)

But what was even more of a ruse was how many good people had died for the name of democracy and freedom, not even fighting for it, but just for attempting to live, and/or to do their jobs correctly. How many people in America in 2015 lay spoiling in jail cells for nonviolent drug offenses, or possible police frame-ups, and how many cop deaths could have been avoided had the people in power ($) tried harder to listen to their inner feelings, rather than the external words (politics) in those cases when the external world just couldn’t make any sense of them.

Palmer had no doubts that people were good deep down, but just like that Walter White #Bitch , #BreakingBad #Bryan-Cranston #We’reAllWalterWhite #AaronPaul #Jesse,Bitch #Yea-WhatUp,Bitch???, everyone had that #Breaking point, and, once reached, there was no looking back. In fact, it was impossible to look back because it was in its DNA to refuse just the thought. This victim can’t remember what it used to be like–to feel, to love, to think, to be a real human–because that would necessarily send her/him right back to that place (that place where one once allowed one’s self to feel, the overstimulation of which was what sent the person ‘over the edge’), and after one’s already passed that #Breaking point, which was probably one of the hardest moments of her/his life, though she/he’ll never remember, or admit to it as such afterwards, this is, surely, simply, impossible[4]. Death has already made its final call, now it’s just waiting for life to shut the fuck up already, gah.


Palmer rose, sat upright on the bed. He put his face in his hands, made a quiet moan as he did so, but he quickly stopped himself as he looked panicked to see if Saves had unfortunately been awoken by it. Palmer was a little afraid of her, if he was going to be honest (#Balls are not exclusive to gender, btw =P) :/. It occurred to him that she might have actually fallen in love with him that day (#NoBalls:’( ) /> but that couldn’t have been the case; Saves was actually smart about shit. He’d certainly fallen in love with her (=D), but that didn’t really matter, because Palmer loved everyone <3.


This only got Palmer more frustrated (because he knew how much of a fuck-tard he was being) so: he decided, once again, to try to get his mind back to normal (normal?).

ooo.O ;\ ;\ ;;;\\\\;\;[6]

After finishing his small midnight snack (twelve pieces of leftover fried chicken and a baked potato (he had a fast metabolism :/)), getting back into bed, and failing to go back to sleep, Palmer got himself back up, and hastily put on his ‘casual-clothes’.


He couldn’t hold it in any longer, he needed answers. All the pain in the world, all the lies, all the love-unseen, all the self-inflicted and apparently endless suffering, what did it all mean?! Could-there-be any one person in this whole, giant (EVIL!!!) Universe who could help him in this plight?!

There was indeed one man, and he was nearby, but Palmer didn’t know just how much, exactly, he could have to say–nor how Palmer could possibly get in to see him (at any time of day let alone at 11 o’clock at night) anyway)–nor if anything this man might say would actually help Palmer in the long run…

Or just make him that much worse (=o)…

[1] Nas. ‘Life’s A Bitch.’ Illmatic. Sony Music Entertainment/Columbia. 1994

[2] This is NOT to say that being a ‘victim’ makes it okay to kill or steal, but that there is a difference in the reasoning behind the question ‘what makes a ‘victim’?’ and the fact that the actions ‘killing’ and ‘stealing’ are never viable options for irresponsibly repressing Societal emotions

[3] So different…

[4] Like when water spills over the edge of the cup, and proceeds to hit the table: there is no saving that water, it’s gone

- So impossible…



[6] So normal… (__’?)