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

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$.

1/25/19, 7:13 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 Barnes and Noble.

This is the last post of the story. There is an additional glossary, bibliography and suggested reading post coming shortly.

If you enjoyed it (or better yet: if you didn’t), please consider writing a review on Amazon, Goodreads or Barnes and Noble. It’s a huge help.

Hoped you liked it, and thanks for checking it out!

III

April 29th, 2015 

12 a.m. (ish)

Nobody knew who did it /> by this point, nobody cared. Following the perceived gunshot, its echo lingering fractured in the freezing-cold air, the crowd immediately went silent: cops, civilians, er’rybody. Some might later recall that they actually saw Palmer’s head explode on its own–like from a bomb from inside–but there is no way to be sure (…). In fact, nobody was actually that sure that they saw anything physical actually do anything to his head /> before it exploded like a ‘balloon’ into a million pieces /> before its owner was destined to think, nor feel, no more…

From a few feet away, Officer Saves (former…  :’( ) walked up slowly, and bent down even slower, to check her former lover’s pulse. Nothing. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, *TheDeepestBreath , deeper than all the deepest depths of time, dimension, God, or Universe, could have ever possibly known, if not for ‘her’.

And then, in a high, operatic-style-like-voice–like a crazy person or a type of mad Broadway play actor (or an opera singer??!!) or some shit™–she began to sing:

  

We waaaaaatch the night come ovvvvveeer us

We staaaarrree from inside its monotone bridge

Waiting

Waiting

For daaaaaaaayyyyyyyy

 

Whhhhyyyy must it be so leeeaaded (leaded) and

Whhhhhyyy

Can’t I leeeet (let) humanityyyy

Beeeeeee

Beeeeeee

Why can’t we let humanity be?

 

Lost inside our bodily mansions,

Thinking, believing, we’re leaving Death for someone else…

 

Here, Saves sto-od up from her kneel and got a bit more into it:

 

Heeere we staaand

Together

Inside of our miiiinddsss

Lost and Gone

 

Dreaming of a way to find ourselves with no help

 

Searching for Gooood (God/Good)

And claiming Infinity ∞ ($)

How does this ‘search’ put real-world-love into your life?

 

((((($)))))

 

Where am I

In God’s eyes

If not just a pivot in time?

 

There was a pause. She look-ed around, Wh-en she got back into it this time, she really got back into it:

 

We DIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

SomeWHEEERRREE

Where the Fear is taaamed (tamed)

Accepted as Gooood (God), as Loooooved, as Flaaaamed

The seasons of time

Of life on the Earth

Will cease to exist

And all its lies, its holiness, its girth

Will fade on with all of our tears, all our pain

All dead long ago with all disease of the brain

 

Outside of our feelings

Outside of our much-needed grasps

You’ll find with the passage of a life

Dividedness needed inside of your heart

For growth and evolution…

 

You’ll witness the Godless heathens in May

And realize only through death that they are you and you they

In June, your Full Nelson will finally come home when they–

 

DIIIIIIEEEEEEE!!!!

 

DIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!

 

DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Yea, it was get-ing a little ridic-ulous :/. We sh-ould probably just stop it here–

 

And you’ll stare up at the sky

Remembering that to live is to die

 

To stand is to take

And to speak is to give

 

(=O (Gasp!))

 

The Universal Growth stands in shadows all around

Encircling everything, and everyone in silence, in overwhelming static, and sound

In talking, seeing, freeing, loving, praising, pain

That ‘empowering’, non-existent thought which drives you insane

You ask ‘them’ what they want and they just

LAUGH and

LAUGH and

LAAAAUUUUGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!

 

Sending you right back to where you ‘belong’

 

(… In Your Head…)

 

You try to scream, you try to cry, but nothing comes out; you scream

WWWWHHHHYYYY???!!!

WWWWHHHHYYYY???!!!

But there’s still no sound auditory

There’s no rhyme or reason to categorize the fading of the dream

 

You wonder how this could all be?

How man can be so ultimately alone?

There’s no way this entire grand universe

Can be everything but known

So you Cry and Cry and Cry

To anything with a name

 

Crying, pleading, living, dying

For a thought

We’ve all felt

But have never seen

 

Giving it up, for it, is the hardest part…

 

She paused, got quieter again...

 

/> But only very momentarily–

 

And you LOOOOKKKKK AAATTT MMMMMEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And-(ah) ask me…

 

<#Quietness

 

 

……

 

She took a deep breath, maybe no-dded her head real quick (though, ag-ain there is no way to be totally sure xxxxDDD), and closed her eyes. She built it up sporadically over the course of this next verse, raising it into a belting type scre-am, before abru-ptly letting it all go–

 

To no replyyyYYY, you finally come to seeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!

Through the tears, sad, malicious, angry and

HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAPPPPYYYYYY–

 

Aaaaaaaaalll Equuuuaaaaalllllll!!!!!

 

There is no dissection, no need here for blame

No consensus for doubt–

Does that make you feel ashamed?

Are YOU! ASHAMED???!!!

 

With the-deaths-of-the-oceans, a conscious drugging-of-my-mind

A fleeting-of-our-fallacies

At the simultaneous end and beginning of all TTTTTIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIMMMMMMMEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!

 

WEEEE WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILL AAAAAAALLLWAAAAYYYYSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!–

/>  

–Phi11y’s P-Hines{T} /> #Hardcore PHant-[OM]$[1]

 

“Disgruntled, tryin' to find me some light

In the rim of darkness

Aiight you sing,

I may not be the darkest.”

-Common

 

Epilogue

And there she was (!!!)!!!(!!!!!)! =OOOOOO

(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

The scene was boring and familiar (¯\_(ツ)_/¯): Mitch was drunk and being a dick. His hot-ass girlfriend was bitching to him about something, and he didn’t care, which, of course, just made her want him more[2].  There were some donkey-sized-penis-slut/whore-bitch-ass corpsefuckers outside smoking weed /> Mitch could practically smell it. The house was packed as it always was, he’d been having these kinds of ragers for long enough. Still, the cops still never came. Mitch always knew he had an advantage being ––––––– and all[3], but still–

He did wonder, strictly, and only at the very beginning of one of his famous-crazy-keggars (now even more famous for serving only the Best Brandy© in all the Philadelphia region =D), with a finger in his chin dimple and his eyes far off into space-time, how it really was that the cops had never shown up, because at almost every party he’d have now /> something would happen. Usually, it was some kid who let that feeling comes with the imbuement of alcohol mix with that feelings of inde-structibleness, infinite life (∞), and happiness (</3), and who would then forget that a car’s speed was still relevant to the speed–and the existence–of any other cars on the road (xop) /> but every now and then, something terrible would happen: like a fight would break out, or someone would vomit all over an expensive couch… or some asshole, as the result of a simple conversation had there the night before, would ‘beat up’ a friend who was so drunk that he couldn’t tell that his other friend had spelled his gamer-tag Brand®, supposed to be ‘R-Man’, as ‘BITCH’, even after showing him the meticulously bent clothes hangar several times, straight up, right to his face =O!

====OOOOOOOOO

The fridge was filled to the brim with beer, the pong table as well. There was some Limp Bizkit playing on the stereo because Mitch and his friends were Hardcore. That was always how one could differentiate between the bitches at those parties and the ones who simply needed more alcohol: the bitches would always vocalize how much they didn’t like Limp Bizkit [4]. It was like they always needed weed or alcohol–or anything escapist–to provide that so-desired hibernation from their own judgment–or: judgment from any source–and/or their/our need for it /> in order to enjoy the things they didn’t yet know firsthand were awesome. No matter what you say sometimes, people never learn, no matter how LOUD, or in-their-face, you may try to PREACH it to them–

><[5]

The people partied and yelled and screamed when their balls didn’t go the way they wanted them to /> the small groups talked amongst each other in the middle and off to the sides of the room like normal, and like they did every other night. Everyone was having a good tyme but the bitches™ <3.

And there she stood, alone in the dark corner of the room, sipping on her favorite domestic (beer), as she had so many times, and at so many parties before, never questioning if she was evil, knowing that it didn’t matter, knowing that these immature little fuck-heads were going to have to grow the fuck up sometime, yet always knowing that it said nothing about any of them, only about her and her own need to ‘save’, whispering quietly, yet just loud enough so that everyone could hear it: “Do it, bro, you won’t do it. Go on, do it. You won’t do it.

“You won’t get #Branded® (<#®eal™).

“You ain’t Hardcore.”

–Bitch

($)

[1] 11: Number One!; P-H: PH level (acid or base? #Divisions,OhNo!(FuckYou) ) (or: Science); Hines: praise be unto you, your highness;{T}: Religion; #Hardcore: The most hardcore *TheMostH-ardcore…; PH: PH level (acid AND base #Omg ) (or: science in-action); (OM): Be Here Now (Buddha) (enlightenment); $: …

[2] Not ‘so much more…’ (like, she wanted him no matter what XP)

[3] Being what?! BEING WHAT?!?!?!

[4] But why? BUT WHY????

- Bitches #STILLTakingItBack

- Limp Bizkit. Significant Other. Flip/Interscope Records. 1999

[5] ,|,