Digital Underground - uXu - Underground eXperts United #uxu-190

### ### ### ### ### #### ### ### ### #### ### ### ##### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ##### ### ### ########## ### ### ########## ### ### ### ### Underground eXperts United Presents... ####### ## ## ####### # # #### ####### ####### ## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ## ## #### ## ## #### # # ## ####### ## ## ## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ## ## ## ####### ####### # # ###### ####### ####### [ Gas Station ] [ By The GNN ] ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ "GAS STATION" by THE GNN/DualCrew-Shining/uXu A small regard to Robert Graysmith. He could always be seen chewing a bubble-gum while reading some cartoon he had borrowed from some shelf in his gas station. Many people had met him, but few of them had ever learned his name. Most of them just passed by, others stopped and bought some gas and stuff from his shop. Neon signs and big letters teased the car owners who approached the station and almost forced them to pull over and meet Bill Lee. Bill Lee actually hated his Shell gas station but that had not kept him away from it during the last twenty years. Every morning at six o'clock Bill would unlock the doors, light the neon signs and sit down by the counter, reading cartoons while awaiting the customers. Outside, the freeway would wake to life and yet another day with thousands of cars passing by would begin. The first customer arrived ten minutes past six. A blue volvo stopped right outside the door. A young man with sun glasses, despise the fact that it was still dark outside, entered the shop, looking around as if he expected an enemy to be inside. "Hi there, what can I do for you!" Bill shouted, to indicate that he was almost deaf but still ready to help anyone. The young man pulled out a black pistol from the back of his soiled jeans and pointed it at Bill. "Cash." the man answered with a voice that revealed his drug abuse. Bill pretended that he did not see the deadly gun. "Right. Cash. What do you want to buy with your cash? The young man sighed and cocked the pistol with his thumb. The click echoed through the shelves. "I want your cash, and I want it now." The young man walked towards Bill until the muzzle of the gun was tightly pressed against Bill's left cheek. Bill raised his finger and moved it slowly in front of his face. "I opened this store ten minutes ago. How can you expect me to have any money other than some coins for change?" The young man lowered his gun a bit, smiled, then he raised it again and firmly squeezed the trigger. There was little noise. A seal was created between the skin and the muzzle and the blast was expended into the body tissues. A conical perforation of the skull was created as the projectile was fired. The bullet, twisting and spiraling, particles of molten metal being thrown off as it traveled over a thousand feet per second, created multiple fractures of Bill's skull. In unison, the barrel slide of the gun recoiled until the barrel's movement was arrested. Continuing backward, the slide passed over the hammer, cocked it, and slammed against receiver as the empty casing was seized and ejected onto the floor of the shop. The slide sprung forward again, peeled off the next cartridge from the double-rowed magazine, and forced it into the chamber. The gun was ready to be fired again. "That is not my problem," the young man said without any sign of feelings. He turned around, checked that no one was around before he placed the gun in his jeans again. A little bell could be heard as he opened the door and went to his car. The blue volvo gently drove away and disappeared in the crowd of cars on the freeway. Bill's dead body lay on the floor behind the counter. Streams of red blood mixed with grey brain substance slowly made its way out on the floor around him. The next customer arrived half past six. A black Ford. "'ello?" It was a woman with two kids. The kids ran around in the shop, chasing each other while screaming loud. The woman looked around to find any employee in this hell hole of a gas station. She had just filled her car with fuel and would really like to pay for it too. A good citizen did not cheat small gas stations, she thought. "I will get you!" one of the kids screamed to his friend. "Be quiet..." the woman said with a voice that was doomed to be ignored. The woman looked around, holding her wallet with both hands. Her mouth was open and she understood that something was wrong. Her suspicious eyes examined every visible part of the small shop. One of the kids accidentally ran into a shelf and several bottles of Coke fell to the ground. One by one, the bottles were crushed against the concrete. The brown liquid splashed around together with pieces of designed glass. The woman stared at the kid who just stood still and watched what he had done. "Oh shit..." the woman said. "What have you done? There must have been ten bottles on that shelf!" "I'm sorry mom," the kid said with a weak voice. The woman took two gigantic steps against the kid, smacked him with her fist before taking both of the kids in their hands, dragging them against the car while repeating over and over again: "Shit, shit, shit.. hope no one saw us, I do not want this trip to be more expensive than necessary!" The Ford quickly drove away. The two faces of the kids in the back window of the car looked guilty. The woman would slap herself on the forehead and look guilty too, a couple of hours later when she remembered that she had forgotten to pay for the gasoline. The sun went up and shined on the Shell station and the cars that drove by. It was going to be a hot day. People cursed themselves for the fact that they had not bought air condition for their cars. Cars stopped to let out people who desperately needed to puke. Shiny and dirty exhaust pipes coughed smoke that smelled bad. The smell found its way into Bill's gas station but no one cared. The blood had stopped to stream out of his head and had now started to coagulate. A fly landed on his face, looking for food. It walked around a bit before it crawled into Bill's mouth. The third customers arrived at nine o'clock. Two teenagers jumped out from a chevrolet and danced their way into the station. They were both dressed in white t-shirts and blue jeans together with hip baseball caps. When inside, they jumped into the air and did high-five with each other. "Yeah boy! Lets get some beer before we hit the road again!" one of them said. The other one got down on his knees and yelled, with his hands in the air: "Beer! Beer!" Laughing, they went to one of the shelves and took two six-packs of Budweiser each. On their way to the counter one of the turned around and walked back to the shelf. "Hey! Where are you going?" the other asked, still walking towards the counter. "I think I want three six-packs boy!" he replied with a smile. The teenager placed the two six-packs under his arm and began to fumble for another on the shelf. The other one arrived to the counter, saw Bill behind it and immediately dropped the beers. One of the bottles exploded and sent white spume over his legs. "Oh, fuck!" he screamed and took two steps backward in disgust. "What's wrong?" the other asked, clearly confused. The teenager with the spume over his legs looked at his friend, holding his hand over the mouth. "Someone has been shot here..." he said with a low voice, almost whispering as if he was afraid that someone heard him. His friend shouted "What?" and ran to the counter. When he had seen Bill's cold body he looked at his friend with a scared face. "What the fuck are we going to do?" he asked. "What the fucking fucking hell are we going to fucking do?" "Have you got the shot gun with you... in the trunk?" "Yes, of course..." "Fuck! Let's get out of here! If the police comes, we will be blamed for this mess for sure!" They ran to the door at once. But before they left, both of them took as many six-packs as they could carry. The car roared away with a cloud of dust behind it. If Bill had been alive, he would have written down the letters and numbers on the plate and reported them to the police for theft. But Bill had been dead for two hours and did not mind. The two teenagers said the same thing to each other while crying and getting drunk in the car on their way to the beach. The sun climbed the sky. The day became hotter and hotter. Fast cars honked angrily at those who by some reason stayed within the ridiculous speed limit. A bus full of old people pulled over and stopped by Bill's Shell station. A group of pensioners stepped out, covering their eyes from the sun. The clock turned eleven. The driver, a tired man, stepped out and lit a cigarette while waiting for the old people to finish their break. "Now listen to me love, a white-haired old woman said. This is a gas station and it is forbidden, f-o-r-b-i-d-d-e-n, to smoke here! Now put it out at once!" The man dropped the cigarette and stepped on it, mumbled something and started to look at the passing cars. Seven old pensioners entered the station. Canes clicked against the concrete floor, eyes closely examined the price tags on several items. "Oh look!" a lanky man said. "The cigars and potato chips are on sale!" The group slowly made their way to the shelf with the bargain. "You are right," someone said. "Come on, lets buy this and then go." Wrinkled hands reached for the items, placed the cigars and potato chips in plastic bags before they in a slow pace went to the counter. They must have stared at Bill's corpse for several minutes before someone broke the silence. "What a shame. He looks so... young." The others nodded. An old woman looked through the window of the shop to make sure that the driver did not know what was going on. "What a waste. He could have done so much in his life. Now it's all.. spoiled." "If we tell this to the driver," a bald man with a broken voice said, "we will never get to our hotel! Our vacation would be spoiled!" The others did not say anything. "This is not our problem!" the man continued. "Why should we take care of this? We have worked our whole life, earned our living as good citizens! We deserve some fun! We do not deserve this!" He is right, they said to each other. They walked outside and entered the bus. The driver praised the fact that he did not need to wait any more before the bus drove away on the freeway. While cars ran on the hot asphalt, the pensioners ate their potato chips and whispered over and over again to each other what a good idea it had been to leave without telling the driver about the dead gas station keeper. Several more customers entered the gas station that day. Most of them saw poor Bill on his back behind the counter but no one did anything about the situation. "This is not my problem!" "Why should I take care of this shit?" "Come on guys, lets split!" "I am not responsible!" "Let me just check if there is any money left before we leave!" When the night fell the road slowly chilled down and less cars drove past Bill's Shell station. Another day had passed and the hysterical freeway would calm down for a few hours. But this night, no one locked the doors to the gas station and no one turned the neon signs off. /////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////// This story may be unpleasant, but there is hope! uXu cares for everybody! Call THE STASH +46-13-tofindout \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ I've visited Sellafield. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- uXu #190 Underground eXperts United 1994 uXu #190 Call CHANNEL ZERO -> +1-410-426-7737 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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