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From: Guy Nickologist <menstrualclinic@aim.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Apocalypse: Chapter 1 - Adoption {references to pedo}
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Date: Wed, 16 May 2007 00:10:01 -0400
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	This is a work of erotic fiction.  The premise is as follows.  In the near 
future the world experiences economic collapse, wars, and mass human 
population die-off.  The leaders of the United States who survive propose a 
radical solution.  Allow adult men to have sex with girls to maintain order 
and repopulate the country.
	The attitudes and actions expressed in this story do not in any way reflect 
the author's opinions on women.  The author is against sexual exploitation of 
all children.  He supports erotic fiction involving children.  No children are 
hurt or exploited by mere words.
	Please visit http://documents.espana2000.com/ for more information.


	Tom remembered seeing old black & white movies whose plot revolved around 
orphanages.  Who in Hollywood thought children without parents made good film? 
  The orphans were housed in beautiful old buildings with clean hardwood 
floors and lots of room to play.
	This orphanage wasn't like that.  Tom joked to himself that it looked like an 
old tire factory.  Once he got closer to the building he saw the faded logo 
and realized it was an old tire factory.  It was probably one of many that 
closed and shipped jobs to Mexico, El Salvador, or Brazil.
	The movies always seemed to feature a handsome priest with a faint Irish 
accent.  Stern, but loving, nuns kept a sharp watch over the adorable, but 
mischievous, little girls.
	What Tom saw on the inside shocked him.  First he had to pass through 
security.  Once they saw he was no threat he walked in.  He expected order. 
Perhaps a reception desk with a smiling nun ready and willing him to direct 
him to the person in charge of adoptions.  Instead he walked into filth and 
chaos.  Three woman sat behind a desk trying to talk into phones.  Belgian and 
US flags were displayed behind them.  Europe had faired better than the rest 
of the world.  Except for the UK they were virtually untouched by war.  Animal 
hormone use wasn't quite as widespread, so more adult women survived.  Being 
the altruistic bunch they are, many came to places like Congo, Burma, and Ohio 
to help with the recovery.
	This orphanage housed thousands of girls.  They looked malnourished.  Some 
were asleep on the floor.  Many of them were running around screaming.  They 
looked filthy.  It was loud, as loud as, well, a tire factory.
	Tom approached the desk.  He tried to get someone's attention, but they were 
yelling into their phones and looking very frustrated.  One hung up and 
proceeded to ignore him.
	"I'm here about adoption!", he yelled.
	No response.  Perhaps she didn't understand English?
	"Hello, do you understand English?"
	The woman gave him a sneer.
	"Yes sir, I do, as you can see I am very busy."
	"I'm here about adopting.  I had an appointment."
	"Who are you adopting?"
	"I don't know.  I haven't been introduced.  I just got here."
	The woman motioned to the room.  "Come back when you've picked one!"  She 
dismissed him with a wave and dialed her phone.
	"Pick one?", he thought?  More care went into choosing a dog at the pound.
	Tom slowly made his way through the hordes of girls.  His conscience told him 
to take them all.  But he knew he couldn't.  He passed by girls he first 
thought were asleep and decided perhaps they were dead.  He walked from room 
to room.  One looked like a giant bedroom with 4-level bunk beds that were 
nothing more than large shelves, very similar to ones he saw in books about 
the Holocaust.  He found some stairs.  Girls covered the steps.  He hardly had 
room to walk.  Room to room was just more of the same.  Then he saw her.
	A girl, a little older than most, sat in a chair and she was reading.  She 
wore tattered clothes, but they were clean and neat.  She looked clean.  She 
was almost like a spec of white paint in a field of dark mud.  He walked over 
to her.
	"Hi."
	She looked up, smiled, and went back to the booklet she was reading.  Tom 
looked at the cover.  It was French.  He didn't know French, but the booklet 
appeared to be a religious publication of some kind, possibly a comic book.
	"What are you reading?"
	"I don't know."
	"Can you read that?"
	"Some of the words."
	"Uh oh", thought Tom.  He assumed he would adopt a bright, intelligent young 
lady who was refined and educated.  He also assumed a cheerful, rosy-cheeked 
nun named Sister Mary Catherine would assist him with the adoption.  He 
slipped the bus tickets out of his jacket and handed them to her.
	"Can you read this?"
	She looked at it and smiled.  "North American Regional Transport.  Priority 
code 2C.  Name: Cameron, Tom...."
	"Okay.  You know that other book is in French don't you?"
	"In French?"
	"It's a different language.  Probably the language the staff here uses."
	"Oh.  Yeah, when they talk to each other it's weird.  But when they talk to 
us we can understand them."
	Tom wasn't exactly sure how to approach this.
	"Hey listen.  Why I'm here.  I'm here to adopt.  To take someone here to be 
my daughter.  Would you like to come live with me?"
	She offered no reaction.
	"What's your name?"
	"Karen."
	"Karen.... do you have a last name?"
	"They told me once.  I forget."
	They paused.
	"Would you like to leave here?  I have a large house with a lot of room."
	She shrugged.  "I guess."
	"I guess.", he thought.  "I GUESS?!?"  Was this girl crazy.  She should be 
leaping for joy.
	"Would you rather not come with me?  It's okay."
	"I have friends here."
	"There are girls your age in the neighborhood.  You'd go to school.  I have a 
lot of books."
	"But they aren't my friends."
	Tom rubbed his neck.  This was worse than middle school.  He couldn't even 
get an orphaned girl to come live with him in the lap of luxury.  That is 
luxury in post-Apocolyptic America.
	He had no idea if what he was about to offer was even valid.  It probably 
wasn't.  Given the situation here he was stuck with her.
	"Why don't you come check it out with me.  If you don't like it, you can 
return here."
	She shrugged.  "Okay, I guess."
	"Let's go.", he said with a smile.
	Karen followed Tom.  They went back down to the front desk.  All three women 
were on the phones, all speaking in French.  Tom wondered what in the hell 
they were talking about.  Did they have to be in constant contact with 
Belgium?  Or maybe they were just talking to each other?  They stood there for 
several minutes.  While they waited he asked Karen if she had anything she 
needed to bring with her.  She claimed to have nothing.  She had no other 
clothes.  She then remembered she did have a few things, so she went back to 
get them.  She returned and none of the women had acknowledged him.
	"Hello?"
	They ignored him.
	"Excuse me, I'd like to adopt her!"
	Finally one of the women looked up, raised one finger indicating one minute, 
then finished her call.
	"What's her name?"
	"Karen."
	"I'll need her surname."
	"She doesn't remember."
	The woman groaned and mumbled something in French.
	"Karen, do you know where you're from?"
	"Pennsylvania."
	"Where in Pennsylvania?"
	"What do you mean?"
	"Which city?"
	"I think just Pennsylvania."
	She groaned again.
	"I will have to research this.  Little girl, are you certain you don't know 
your surname?"
	Karen just shook her head.
	The woman stood up and walked through a door behind the desk.  Half an hour 
later she emerged holding a thick folder.
	"You made this very hard for me.  You're not from Pennsylvania.  You're from 
New Jersey.  You were processed through Philadelphia, Pennsylvania."
	Tom wondered how this poor girl was supposed to know that.
	"Is that her file?"
	"Yes."
	"Are you certain?"
	She pulled out color photograph showing her from the front and side, much 
like a police mug shot.  "This is the girl, no?"
	Tom studied it.  She was much younger, but it was her.
	"Her name is Karen Ashley Jacobs."
	Tom furled his brow and said, "Her name is now Karen Ashley Cameron.  She's 
taking my name.  She's my daughter."
	The woman acted like she didn't hear.  She stamped some papers, all in 
French, and walked from behind the counter.  She handed Tom the folder.
	"Come on."
	Karen and Tom looked at each other, then followed.  She led them to the front 
door.  She handed some of the papers to the guards, said something in rapid 
fire French, then walked away back to her desk.  Tom watched her walk away. 
He wasn't sure if he was supposed to follow.  He looked at the guard who said, 
"You may leave."
	Father and daughter walked out to the city streets of Wooster.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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