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                                                                `b
    t h e  n e o - c o m i n t e r n   e l e c t r o n i c  m a g z i n e
                  I n s t a l l m e n t    N u m b e r  7 8

         WE ARE THE 5th INTERNATIONAL - LANOITANRETNI ht5 EHT ERA EW
                    October 5th, 1999 - 9991 ,ht5 rebotcO
                          Editor: BMC - CMB :rotidE
                             Writers: - :sretirW
                         Gnarly Wayne - enyaW ylranG     
                                  BMC - CMB
                        
                   
  d""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""b.
 ;P                     Featured in this installment                       .b
 $                                                                          $
 $               My Personal Quest For The Holy Grail- BMC                  $
 $                  The Origin of Zombies- Gnarly Wayne                     $
 $                     Voyage From Atlantis c.vi- BMC                       $
 `q                                                                        p'
   `nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn'

                               EDITOR'S NOTE

        I was just playing a game of Boloz, and I wondered to myself, "Is
there anything in the world better than a game of Boloz?"  I determined that
playing a game of Boloz followed up by throwing together an article of the
Comintern would be better, and it looks like I am right.  After this I am
going to push a bit further and see if it gets any better if I play a game of
Boloz, make up issue 78, and then read a couple hundred pages of crap that
doesn't really interest me.  I love school!  And I love this issue as well.
Read.


  d""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""b.
 ;P                 MY PERSONAL QUEST FOR THE HOLY GRAIL                   .b
 `q                                by BMC                                  p'
   `nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn'

        I have heard lots about "quests," and "holy grails," and "quests for
tha holy grail," so I decided to join the history books with Arthur and
Charlemagne and King Herod, and strike out on a holy grail quest of my own.
I believe it was "Indiana Jones - The Last Crusade" that taught me that you
have to bow and kneel and that Jehovah begins with I and that you have to
kick sand all over the place and stuff, so I started with that.  A few
minutes later, I was covered in dirt and I still hadn't found the grail, so
I figured that this was where the quest came into play.

        I really have no idea where someone might go looking for the holy
grail, so I started by cleaning up my room and looked around in there, but
I didn't find the holy grail.  Then I cleaned out the back of my '82 Chev
Citation, but the closest I came was finding a few cans which ended up being
worth about 60 cents at the recycling place.  When I was at the recycling
place I made sure to ask if anyone knew where the holy grail was, but the
only thing I discovered was a guy named Ben who could stick his hand in his
mouth.

        I went home and decided to *gulp* read some books.  After
researching the holy grail a bit and looking up the dictionary definition of
"quest," I figured out that it probably wasn't anywhere close, and that I
would have to go on a journey of some sort in order to find it.

        I trekked forth with a destination in mind: the grocery store.  If
the fine folks at OK Economy didn't have the holy grail then who would?  If
I got there and found out that the holy grail wasn't there, that would mean
that it was elsewhere, and since my goal was to find the holy grail, I would
have had to continue searching for it, quest after quest, trek after trek.

        As luck would have it, I found a dime on the street on the way there.
That raised my spirits, and when I finally got to the store I was confident
that they would provide me with the grail.  They ended up not having it, but
they did have several excellent deals, so I ended up buying some corn that
was on sale.

        I ate the corn on the way home, and decided that my next quest would
take me to the Euphrates River.  Just as I was heading out the door with my
umbrella, I got a mysterious phone call.  Hello?

        "Hey are you the guy with the wanted ad in the paper for a holy
grail?"

        Yes, I am the one.  The guy wanted ten dollars for it, but I only had
twenty cents.  I went and asked BMC-girlfriend for a ten dollars to buy the
grail, and she asked me what I needed it for.  I couldn't come up with an
answer, so I just ended up not getting it.

        The End.

                                                     
  d""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""b.
 ;P                         THE ORIGIN OF ZOMBIES                          .b
 `q                            by Gnarly Wayne                             p'
   `nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn'

Have you ever heard a small child utter this common phrase all parents dread
hearing:
"Mommy, where do zombies come from?"

Well, phear not, for I shall answer any doubts and concerns you may have.

The year: 178.3C DM

The notion of zombies came about one night in the bellfry of an old, haunted
church run by evil clerics. They were drinking cider and telling tales of
how they scared the cornmeal right out of some old peasant. One particularily
drunk cleric by the name of Joseph Higgins suggested they go exhume some
corpses in the backyard (or grave, as known by todays vocabulary). After
digging up fifty or so of the smelly sacks of flesh, Joseph Higgins started
a little play by proping the corpses up and moving their limbs and whatnot.
His playmates fell over laughing. Then they all passed out. Joseph Higgins
dreamt of taking his show on the road but he simply did not have the
manpower to do so. The gears in his head began a-turning and he finally
thought; "Hey, I'm an evil cleric, I deal with black magic.... hmmm.. why
not??!".

He awoke the next day and anxiously went through the daily routine of prayer,
teachings, altar buffing, and village terrorising. After he punched out, he
scrambled to the backyard and began trying to weave dark magics to raise the
dead and have them completely under his control. It was based on a spell
created a couple fortnights ago which allowed a cleric to raise skeletons.
After many defeats and failed attempts, Joseph Higgins collasped and began to
weep.  He buried his head in the mucky mirth of earth and cried slowly.

Then, as his sobs slowly subsided and he raised his filthy head out of the
ground, he found himself staring into the almost hollow sockets of a rotting
head. They seemed to be pleading with him to not give up. After a moment
of soul searching, Joseph Higgins came to stand abruptly and shouted out
"I will triumph!!!". The decaying head seemed to almost smile.

In the depths of the night Joseph worked at his spell, never giving up hope.
A couple of seconds later, a small twitch caught Joseph's eye. One of the
corpses had begun to move. It very slowly got up and stumbled, not unlike
that of a newborn child learning to walk, over to Joseph and stood in front
of him.
"Da..da?", it grumbled.

Joseph cried out in joy and hugged the zombie as hard as he could, completely
destroying it in the process.

But he just made a whole wack more.

The spell now complete, it was inscribed in the Book of Clericly Evil.
Joseph's mentors decided that to cast this spell you would need to be
5th level or higher, as they didn't want just any jackass to be able to make
zombies and abuse them.

They had a party that following night, and while they were partying, the
zombies went into the nearby village and completely destroyed it.

Seems like the spell was not quite perfected, as the zombies were not under
the control of Joseph. With no leader and none of them possessing a mind of
their own, they went their own ways, causing mayhem and destruction.

Word soon spread across the land of this new menace. When Joseph heard the
news, he was shocked.
"I never intended it to be like this...", he bellowed.
"Why not? We're evil.", said some guy.
"Oh jeah.", said Joseph Higgins.

So, throughout the ages, zombies have been misused and mistreated by many
evil clerics. It has only been recently that a mysterious organization lead
by a mysterious leader has mysteriously been trying to change the mysterious
outlook mysterious people have on these mysterious creatures.
The mystery continues...mysteriously.


  d""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""b.
 ;P                   VOYAGE FROM ATLANTIS (chapter vi)                    .b
 `q                                by BMC                                  p'
   `nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn'

        
        As we flew toward the MAVO headquarters, we discussed the
possibilities of space flight and moon empires.  "Jesu Cristo, my feet are
getting tired!" said L'Homme B as we approached the headquarters of the evil
and beautiful MAVO organization.  It had been hours, and the winds had been
rough.  The effects of timeless air flight were beginning to take their toll
on me as well, and I eagerly lookked forward to standing on solid ground and
stretching my legs.

        "You're a terrible driver, didn't I ever tell you that?" I asked
Komrade B as we touched the ground.  Standing up, he replied, "Yes, you did
tell me that.  In fact, you tell me that everytime that we go anywhere, even
if I'm not driving."  "Well," I snapped, "that's too fucking bad and you
better fucking get better or that';s going to be the last fucking time you'll
be doing anything!"

        I looked up as KomradeB and noticed that his usual look of jubilation
had been replaced by one of sorrow.  "Oh, I'm sorry dammit," I said, "now
let's go."

        We didn't know what to expect from the interior of the MAVO cave.
The castle was built on some gothically tall,black, slender mountain, and
was made of some dark, oily stone.  I expected its inside to be as horrific,
but we were both surprised to find a marvelously large and beautiful hall
with gold covered walls, and a large pool filled with a clear gelatin-like
substance.  Komrade B became excited and started feasting on the mysterious
substance.  When I got a bit closer, I noticed that it was not the standard
Knox-brand gelatin as I had expected, but warm, spoiling head cheese.  Just
as I began to vomit at the macabre sight of this unholy feast, Quellor
entered the room.

        Now, there is no way to describe Quellor in words, so I truly hope
that you have seen Teddy Ruxpin and can save me the trouble of trying to
describe him.  For those of you who haven't bothered to do the background
research that is necessary before you begin to read The Comintern, I will
waste my sweet-ass time telling you what this fucker looks like.  He's about
2 feet tall and weight 500 pounds and is blue with a big yellow hat.

        Anyway, we told him to hand over the crystals or we'd kick his ass.
As you can probably imagine, this didn't go over very well, and he kicked
both our asses, erased B's mind with a black box, and sent us to be tried and
executed at the Ying Zoo.  Luckily, we escaped just outside of the
headquarters and disguised ourselves as can-can dancers.  A bit later, we
met a guy selling lemonade that was made with water from Rainbow Falls.  I
bought a bottle of it and repeatedly hit Komrade B in the head with it until
he remembered who he was again.  Then we killed the lemonade salesman and
walked westward to the inn.

 
.d&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&b.
    ___________________________________________________
   |THE COMINTERN IS AVAILIABLE ON THE FOLLOWING BBS'S |
   |~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|
   | BRING ON THE NIGHT                 (306) 373-4218 |
   | CLUB PARADISE                      (306) 978-2542 |
   | THE GATEWAY THROUGH TIME           (306) 373-9778 |
   |___________________________________________________|
   |   Website at: http://members.home.com/comintern   |
   |           Email BMC at: thebmc@home.com           |
   |___________________________________________________|

 .d&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&b.
 Copyright 1999 by The Neo-Comintern                            #78-10/05/99

All content is property of The Neo-Comintern.
You may redistribute this document, although no fee can be charged and the
content must not be altered or modified in any way.  Unauthorized use of any
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