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July 25, 2005

Volume 4, Issue 25

What do you suppose is going on here?

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Not a Christian? Not to worry, you can have signs and manifestations too!

The devout Catholic see the outpourings of blood from statues and from wounds of their fellow humans and as a sign. A sign of their faith and of their belief.

Those not of such a religious nature may worship the mighty dollar, the consumer, the all conquering shiny jewellery.

Being a devout follower of the Gods of Sales leads to some very attractive stigmata.

Posted by: Rogue Solo at July 25, 2005 5:57 AM · Permalink

"I see a purchase in your future."

"Oh," said Aiko, short of breath.

"This one is very clear," said the palm-reader, tapping Aiko's right hand. "The other one, not so much."

"Will it be expensive?"

"It will be - " The palm-reader shut her eyes and leaned back, stiffening her spine and quickening her breath. It was so easy to fool young girls living abroad. Seriously, how could students from one of the best-educated countries in the world half-believe in all this crap? The palm-reader opened her eyes. "On sale!" she exclaimed.

"Lucky!" said Aiko.

"That'll be twenty-seven fifty," said the palm-reader.

Posted by: G-Do at July 25, 2005 8:44 AM · Permalink

At first Kim thought it was just a prank. Her brother had been pulling something over on her for as long as she could remember. The first symptom was her skin turning into an almost grotesque tribute to Michael Myers. Then her wardrobe was replaced with seven copies of the exact same boring suit. She wondered how he had managed to break in to her apartment, but she knew he was always the resourceful one.

Now, though, her hands had grown to enormous proportions and flashed alternately 'flesh' and 'sale'. Something was definitely wrong and she was afraid of dying.

Posted by: Gabe at July 25, 2005 9:53 AM · Permalink

The fetish for Japanese schoolgirl hands emerged in Paris, France, where frequent visitors are unsurprised to see them in vending machines and hanging in street kiosks. Now however, continental Europe is outraged. According to a UN report released this week, after hands have been amputated donors are frequently left to rot, and panties remain on corpses for weeks before being mailed out in a seperate promotion, spreading disease and often misleading customers into thinking they have bought a 'period pair'. French regulators are now insisting that all hands removed prior to panties can only be sold at heavily discounted prices.

Posted by: Dom at July 25, 2005 11:13 AM · Permalink

Alarms whooped as Reiko walked out. A CorpCop appeared and "escorted" her to the SecuriStation. The Justicomp scanned the stolen datadisks' e-tags, and computed both verdict and sentence.

Reiko reluctantly inserted her hand into the sentencing box where her verdict warmly tattooed her palms. She staggered over to the UVscope to read her fate.

"Sale? What's that mean?"

"What it sounds like," said the CorpCop. "Fines exceed family's net worth plus expected lifetime earnings, so you'll have to enter an Unlimited Service Contract to make restitution. Luckily, there's a standing order for Japanese Schoolgirls; could have come up Organ Donor."

Posted by: Jeff R. at July 25, 2005 11:46 AM · Permalink

"Josh, what does your uncle do again?"

Chad goggled at all the sights of the party. The room was huge and dark, neon flashed throughout. A band played and topless hostesses circulated.

"Biggest distributor in the Midwest for all things anime. This party is for suppliers, vendors and jobbers. Got your card?"

They approached a group of Japanese girls, demurely dressed. The girls lined up, offering up their palms, symbols glowing in the blacklite. Chad looked at his card and matched the "sale" symbol with the last girl in line.

Josh whooped, "Have fun, dude! Private rooms down the hall."

Posted by: Darleen at July 25, 2005 5:40 PM · Permalink

Her life sucked. Her parents never let her have any fun.

It wasn't the constant nagging about school and grades. Everyone in Japan had to put up with that.

What really bugged her was having to work in her parent's shop after school. It was so humiliating. Thankfully, none of her friends shopped there.

First of all it was a cheap discount store in a strip mall. But even worse was the cheap dyes they used on all of their price tags.

Everynight she went home with the damning evidence of her shame, and spent hours scrubbing her hands clean.

Posted by: Gahrie at July 25, 2005 11:33 PM · Permalink

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