Cyber Corpse 2
Exquisite Corpse - A Journal of Letters and Life
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by John Lemon

"I like Offspring," Trevor said. He was sitting on the floor, using his hand to spin the front wheels of his skateboard.

Chandler was casually flipping through a stack of CDs, looking for a computer game. He made a puke-face to show his opinion of the band. "They eat shit."

"Do not."

"Do so."

"Do not."

Chandler held up a CD. "Here it is--'Final Doom.'"

"Is that the one where they tear the heads off?" Trevor asked.

"No. But you can shoot them with all kinds of heavy weapons like rocket launchers and flame throwers."

Trevor considered the appeal of such mayhem.

"Do they burn?"

"Sometimes." Chandler waved his arms and made a pained expression to illustrate the agony of the victims. "And some of them go 'ahhhhhh,' when they go down."

Trevor jumped up. "Totally bad. Let me see."

The computer screen flickered and flashed as e-gladiators charged through a hail of flame and exploding shrapnel. Chandler gave the joy stick to Trevor, who was soon scoring points as he bombed and flamed the digital foe.

"Your house is so neat," Trevor said. "You get to do all this stuff."

"It's nothing," Chandler replied.

"No, seriously," Trevor said, handing the joy stick back. "I can't do nothing. My mom always says it's too much this or to much that."

"Does that mean no Internet?"

Trevor struck the skateboard wheels, which made a long "wheee" sound. "My dad sits for hours on the Internet," he said. "But my mom says I'm not mature enough to make decisions."

"What decisions?"

Trevor used his hand to stop the spinning wheels. "I don't know," he said. "Not to look at any good stuff, I guess."

Chandler put the game on pause. "Let's do something."

"I know," Trevor said, "if we string a wire across the bike path, when kids come whizzing along real fast, it'll cut off their heads."

"How you know the wire won't just bust?" Chandler asked.

"My dad gots this special wire called cable. It can't break."

Chandler was unconvinced. "I bet it can too break."



Chandler and Trevor skated over to Trevor's house. The cable was in the garage, but it was too tangled to use.

On the way back to Chandler's house, a passing car made Trevor fall and bang his knee.

"I bet the wire wouldn't cut off their heads anyway," Chandler said.

"I bet it'd be awesome if it went through their stomachs," Trevor replied. "I mean, they'd get cut right in half. How long you think the top half could keep screaming, anyway?"

Chandler thought for a moment. "Probably only, like five seconds or something."

"What if the guy was holding his breath?"

That brought a look of disgust to Chandler's face. "Dumb-ass. You can't yell and hold your breath."

Trevor hobbled around to test the condition of his knee. "What about if you shoot a guy through the throat with a bow and arrow? Would they stay alive very long?"

"I don't know," Chandler answered. "Your knee OK?"

"Yeah. I heard you can make a bomb out of bleach and...something else...I forget."

"That's nothing. I know how to make the Oklahoma City bomb. You know, the one they blew up the building with."

Trevor winced as he put his weight on the leg. "Where'd you get that?"


"Did not."

"Did so. Plus, I found a bunch of porno stuff like 'Teen Sluts' and 'Perverts Dot Com.'"

"Show me," Trevor demanded.

"What? Bomb or sex?"

"Sex. No--bomb."

Chandler typed an address into the computer. A few seconds later a banner appeared on the screen, "The Anarchist Web Page." Trevor clicked on the "Activities" icon, then scrolled through the choices until he found the bomb recipe:



- Newspaper

- Fertilizer (GREEN THUMB or ORTHO)

- Cotton

- Diesel fuel

Make a pouch out of the newspaper and put some fertilizer in it. Then put cotton on top. Soak the cotton with fuel. Then light and run like you have never ran before! This blows up 500 square feet so don't do it in an alley!!


"Is that totally bad or what?" Trevor said. "Your dad got any fertilizer around here?"

"Just compost," Chandler replied. "You think that'd work?"

"Nah, unless you wanted to make a stink bomb."

"That'd be cool."

"I want to really explode something," Trevor said. "I know what. My dad, he gots the right kind. We can use that."

"What'll we blow up?" Chandler asked.

"I don't know. Hey, maybe we could scare some people in the park. I gots this model rocket detonator. We could run wires to it and hide."

Chandler resumed killing enemies in the "Doom" game. "The thing didn't say how much to use."

"You think it matters much?" Trevor asked.

"I don't know. You want a big scare or a little one?"

Trevor thought for a moment. "Big."

"How much stuff does your father have?"

"I don't know. A big bag."

"That should be enough," Chandler replied. My dad has a couple gallons of stove fuel. We can use that instead of Diesel. Plus we can use a firecracker. I got an M-80. That'll make sure the whole thing blows up real good."

"OK," Trevor said, "but I gots to be home by five. I can't be late for dinner again."

It was already past three. Chandler and Trevor hurriedly gathered the bomb ingredients. They put everything into several plastic grocery bags so they could haul it on their bikes to the park. They dug a hole on a hillside, about ten feet above the hiking trail. Chandler poured fuel into each bag as he put it into the hole. Trevor carefully taped the detonator to the fuse of the M-80, placing it on top of the bags.

The boys completed the set-up, running the detonator wires to a spot where they could observe hikers walking along the trail.

After a few minutes, a group of girls approached. Chandler and Trevor started to giggle.

The girls were older--probably in high school. When they got to the spot below the bomb, they paused as one girl stooped to tie her shoe. Chandler nudged Trevor. "Now, dumb-ass. What ya waiting for?"

Trevor sat up to take one last look at the girls. "I don't know," he whispered, shaking his head.

Chandler punched Trevor's arm. "Do it."

Trevor clenched his teeth, closed his eyes and pressed the detonator. The fuse on the M-80 hissed when it ignited. One of the girls looked up.

The M-80 made a sharp "boom." The girls ran shrieking down the trail. Dust and the smell of stove fuel filled the air.

Chandler and Trevor hurried over to examine the remains.

"That wasn't a very big explosion," Chandler said, looking at the debris. Fertilizer and bits of the plastic bags were scattered over the area.

"Dud," Trevor said.

Chandler poked through the remains with a stick. "Maybe we should try it with cotton and newspapers like the Internet said."

"I bet we should of put the M-80 under the bags."

"Listen. We could get some more fertilizer," Chandler said. "Let's try it."

Trevor picked up his bike. "Maybe tomorrow," he said. "No, I can't tomorrow, either. I got Karate."

"Let's do it now," Chandler insisted. "I got another M-80."

"Nah," Trevor replied. "I gots to get home. If I'm late for dinner again, I get grounded the rest of the week."

"The whole week?"

"Yeah--plus no TV or nothing."

Chandler let out a sigh. "Your parents are sure strict."

Trevor started off on his bike. "I know. Stupid, isn't it?"

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