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Sfstory Log 013

Subject:     Wherin the TARDIS gets on the move!
From:        Eric, Lord Sabre -}--------- (enll6ac at bostonu)

     Radar took another Altairian Hyperasprin, and handed the bottle to
Trudy, who had three herself.
     " you're saying that the SSR's activities
are...plotted on this paper?"
     "Correct, Radar," said the Intern thereby informing the reader of
the identity of the last speaker.  "As near as I can tell, it's somewhere
in Nether-space."
     "Then lets go get it," said Trudy, who now wore a blue tight danskin
leotard over her Dr. Who underwear.
     "It's far from that easy, lass," said the Intern, who was looking at
Trudy's pert figure despite himself.  "The TARDIS is capable of going anywhere
in Time or Space.  Netherspace is neither Time nor Space.  Our best bets is
to track down Radar's brother's soul--"
     "Oh, yes," breathed Radar, as she tightened her hold on the Intern's
are and attempted to draw his attention away from Trudy.
     The Intern was sufficently destraced and looked at Radar, who wore
a fire-red leotard.  His eyes weighed the prospects and decided Radar
was the worthier look--plus of course his mind was a bit concerned about
looking the other way.
     "And to go get Mark Hyperthrust, who I've finally got a fix on.  I
say we get Mark first, then we get the Crystal and try to find Linda...
WHEREVER she's gone off to."
     "All right, Mr. Timelord sir," Trudy said, beaming and happier than
a clam.  "Does this mean I'm a companion?"

     "Hmmm?  Oh, yes, I suppose you are."
     "Oh boy!  Let me practice my shrieking!"  Trudy went down one of
the TARDIS's corridors, emitting little shrieks.
     "She's...exuberent, isn't she," asked the Intern, whose gaze, despite
its earlier decision, was following the girl's postierior now.
     Radar began touching the Intern in ways I really can't describe in
any posting which my mother and my closest female friends might well read
someday and yell and scream at me for.  Needless to say, the Intern put all
thought of Trudy out of his head as he sweeped Radar into his arms and
carried her off....
     Several thousand years in the future and millions of light-years
away, Mark Hyperthrust, Zark Flyby, Dr. Bing Von Spleen, Ralph, and Bubba
all sat around, waiting for the Cowboy to post again and get them off this
stinking rock, or for their story to be adopted by a new author.  Well,
needless to say, with the Natchwald, Intern, Matthew, Satan, and Muck-Luck
plotlines to deal with in my (non-existant) spare time, the chances of me
picking up their story is very slim indeed.  However, to give a little
bit of help, I can take one character off his hands.
     A beer keg materlerized, in defiance of all physics.
     Zark shot it several hundred times, all to no effect.
     Bubba fainted.
     Dr. Von Spleen jumped up so fast he dropped his ABPSAR, which got a
bit of dirt in it and caused a minor flux in space/time, which placed
six pounds of spam into the ABPSAR of the HMS Golden Lance just in
time for it to convert to a starship and follow 357 to netherspace three
days beforehand and therefore explaining how the ship could fly then and
I don't want to hear any more about it.
     Ralph tuned his Ukilele and didn't notice.
     Varneyloop named the beerkeg the HMS Chaser.
     The Keg opened, and the Intern stuck his head out.  "Hyperthrust,"
he said, "get in!"
     Mark whooped a war cry and dove in, glad to be out of this stagnent
section of SFSTORY.
     The keg closed and vanished from the Cowboy's plot, leaving the
remaining characters high and dry again, which they swore about for
an extended period of time.
     Mark was sitting in a chair, listening to the Intern, who he only just
now realised was the Grad student sent to collect him.
     "Lets see, you stole a starship, went on assignment weeks ahead of schedule
without telling anyone, blew the assignment--"
     "Hey, we got Vogel back!  Ok, so he's a little whacked out...."
     "His mind was displaced by Satan."
     "Oh." said Mark with the finality of a man doomed to academic probation.
     "Your starship was destroyed...all in all you've a very bad record."
     " least I got back to you Radar," Mark said, giving Radar that
smile that won her over the first time.
     Radar slipped an arm around the Intern's shoulder.  "I'm afraid I'm engaged
to someone on my grade level."
     "Oh Needlewarp!"
     "You watch your language on my TARDIS!"
     "Well, where's Linda?"
     "We're going to try and find her next."
     "Can i please go to sleep?  My brain hurts."


The answers to these and many other questions have been lost in the Time Vortex,
I'm afraid.  With luck, if you tune into the next exciting edition of
SFSTORY, we may find them again.

***** Entry appended 23:43 on Mon, 04/11/88 by enll6ac at bostonu   # 154 *****
Subject:     Where plots affect others
From:        Patrick McCoy (enldc8c at bostonu)

     As Space Commander Buzz Williams Rocket Racer V speed towards
the Deathmonger, dodging Particle Accelerator Blasts and firing
his antiquidated Turbo Lasers, the evil Tung Commander ordered his
majordormo to press THE BUTTON.
     For those in the reading audience unfamiliar with the properties
of THE BUTTON, it takes a nearby star and sucks all of the plasma from
it and fires it at the oncomming target.
     The evil Tung commander quietly laughed to himself.
     "Space Commander Buzz Williams is as sure as dead! Not even he,
with his Ph.D. in Space Heroics can dodge all of the energy of a sun!
     Major Dormo, assigned to his job and rank because of a recruting
officer's warped sense of humor, walked to the console and pressed THE
     The trio in the Rocket Racer V watched as the Deathmonger rotated
itself in between themselves and the Blue Giant.
     "What are they doing???" asked a startled Bert.
     "My first guess is that they are going to try to dive out of the
sun at us, but that only works in a suprise setting. They must be up to
something. I wish I knew what. Bert, start scanning their ship."
     "How do I do that?" Bert asked.
     "By flipping the switch labeled 'scan.'"
     "Oh," he responded as he flipped the switch.
     "They must have a secret weapon..." murmered Buzz.
     Tachi, who had finnished cleanning his sci-fi shotgun, looked at
the Deathmonger. "What is that big thing that looks like a flame thrower
rising up out of the hull?"
     "I don't know," responded Buzz, who was the only one there who could
possibly have a clue, "but I don't like it. Bert, what are you getting?"
     "The screen says there is a vacume effect beginning."
     "Good Heavens!" shouted Buzz, who had a masters degree in pulp
science, "They are going to shoot a star at us!" He wrestled with the
rocket's controls in an attempt to swerve out of the firing arc of the
weapon so he could make an emergency jump to hyperspace.
     "Good-bye Williams," said the Deathmonger's Commanding officer as
he pulled the trigger to fire the star at him.
     Just at that moment, on a small planet called Earth such a long
distance away it isn't even funny, a young paladin was learning a thing
or twelve as he fell very much in love and, if he could put together
anything remotely resembling a thought, would be wondering how to
propose to the beautiful young woman named Linda whom he was sleeping
with. This was causing several unprecedented events through out the
universe including the simultaneous event of fifty super-novas. By some
stroke of luck, or some contrived plot device, the Blue Giant about to
fired at the Rocket Racer V was one of the stars that blew up.
     The outcome of theis was severe damage to both the Deathmonger
and the Rocket Racer V.
     Aboard the Deathmonger, the Commander cursed loudly and began to
throttle Ensign Asshole on lend from Spaceball I.
     Aboard the Rocket Racer V, Buzz surveyed the damage.
     "We're in trouble. We need replacement parts badly and there is
only one source to get them...the Deathmonger."
     "WHAT?" asked Bert.
     "Are you sure that is wise???" asked the Zen Master, Tachi.
     "No," Buzz responded, "but we have no choice."
     He turned the Rocket Racer toward the Deathmonger and slowly

     FOR MATT?

For the answers to these questions, or maybe no answers at all,
    tune in to the next instalment of SFSTORY!!!

***** Entry appended 13:56 on Tue, 04/12/88 by enldc8c at bostonu   # 155 *****
Subject:     Wherein the Commander gets a name...
From:        Patrick McCoy (enldc8c at bostonu)

     Space Commander Buzz Williams quietly and carefully piloted the Rocket
Racer V to the rear of the Deathmonger which had been partially destroyed
by the supernova caused by the recent copulation of two paladins on Earth.
There were several places where he could dock his ship. He chose the one
which was provided by the author so as to fit his ship in perfectly.
     After he shut down all systems, he turned to his companions.
     "Now all we have to do is find some spare parts and blow up the
     "Blow up the Deathmonger??!!" gasped Bert.
     "What spare parts?" asked Tachi, who was wondering why Bert was
so fond of exclamations.
     "Well," responded Buzz, "We have to blow up the Deathmonger because
it is  a threat to intergalactic peace and freedom. As for the spare parts,
we need 3 Uranium Hyperthrusters, 1  Atomic Turbofan, 6 Vacume Tubes, and
one apple corer."
     "An apple corer?" asked Tachi, the enlightened Zen Master.
     "It was destroyed in the explosion."
     "What is it used for?" asked Bert excitedly. "Does it create rifts
in the time-space continueum? Or randomly teleport objects?"
     "No," responded Buzz, who was somewhat puzzled by this outburst, "it
cores apples. The Provost of IU hates apple cores and he's the one who
distributes funds to the department so, at the Dept. Chair's request, all
Professors keep a corer handy."
     "Oh," responded Bert, who had thought he knew something good.
     "Where are we going to find these things?" asked Tachi who would
have been annoyed if he weren't enlightened.
     "Well," responded Buzz, "the corer should be in the galley. The
rest should be in the Space History Museum."
     "The Space History Museum?" inquired Tachi, wondering if he was
with a nutcase.
     "Yes, the Tung are fond of history as all Tung women shotputters
are historians or librarians by training."
     "Why is that?" asked Bert.
     "The first emporer of the Tung, Fr'enching I, liked history. One
day, a history book he wanted was overdue. Henceforth, he ruled that
all librarians and historians must be capable of punishing those who
don't bring books back on time."
     "Wow," responded Bert who was again impressed.
     "It wasn't all that great," Buzz continued, "Fr'enching was killed
by a librarian when she mistook him for a repeat offender."
     Tachi made a mental note never to go into a Tung library as he knew
a member of his race who had a terrible sense of time.
     "Well," said Buzz again, "We'd better get going."
     The trio walked in the back of the rocket where, after Buzz strapped
on a sword in a gold scabbard, they placed what looked like fishbowls on their
heads and jetpacks on their back. They then left through the airlock for the
wreckage of the Deathmonger.
     Meanwhile, onboard the Deathmonger, the Commander had finished throttling
Ensign Asshole and turned to his majordomo.
     "Major Domo!" he shouted.
     "Yes, sir!" Major Domo shouted back with a reverent voice.
     "What the hell is my name! The author hasn't given me one yet!"
     "It's Commander Action!"
     "No it isn't, you fool!" the as of yet unnamed commander shrieked
as the author wracked his brains for a good villian name, "That's the
reincarnated Guinevere! I want my name!"
     "Your name is Commander Cutebuns!" as the crewmen in the control-
room began to giggle.
     "SILENCE!!!!" shouted Commander Cutebuns who wished the author had
of something that would strike fear into the hearts of the readers.
"I don't want anyone to refer to my name! Just call me Commander!"
     "Yes, Sir!" responded the crew.
     "Now then," he continued with his back to the console, "Where
is the Rocket Racer V?!!"
     "We lost it, Sir." responded the Mr. Coffee at the radarrange.
     "We destroyed it! I have won!" He turned and laughed like a mad-
man as the female crewmembers looked to see if the name was appropriate.
     Meanwhile, Space Commander Buzz Williams, Tachi, and Bert had
found the Museum of Space History. Only one thing lay between them and
their goal: the woman's shotputter/historian.
     "What are we going to do?" whined Bert.
     "Do about what??!!" demanded the historian as she lumbered towards
the three who, combined, weighed less than she.
     Tachi pulled out his sci-fi shotgun and blasted her into oblivion.
     "How can you just shoot someone like that?" asked Bert who wondered
if blook would damage any of the equipment they needed.
     "I'm enlighened," Tachi responded, replacing the sci-fi shotgun
in its shoulder sling.
     "Good shot!" added Buzz. "Now let's get the equipment to the Rocket.
Look! There's even an apple peeler here!"
     After repairing the Rocket Racer V, the trio returned to the
Deathmonger to set off the self-destruct mechanism. They came to a large
open arena. As they crossed the open floor, a voice rang out.
     "Not so fast, Williams!"
     The brave, but aged Space Commander whirled and faced the voice.
Tachi calmly turned, as enlightened individuals are wont to do. Bert cowered.
They faced the Commander, Major Domo, and a squad of eleite Tung Kill-Troops.
     "So, Cutebuns, we meet again."
     At the mention of their leader's name, the entire regiment of Kung
Kill-Troops (also called Marines) droped their weapons as they broke
out into hysterics. Space Commander Buzz Williams, smiling but not laughing
as he had a Ph.D. in Space Heroics (self-control 550 being a required
course in the 1920s), scooped up Bert, who was giggling uncontrollably,
and shouted to Tachi who, as he was enlightened, didn't find the situation
ammusing, "Run for it!"
     The three heard shouts of "After them, you fools!" as they dashed down
the hallway before the Marines could regain their composure.


For answers to these and some other questions, if you're lucky, tune in
to the next installment of SFSTORY!!!

Or don't. See if I care...

***** Entry appended 18:26 on Tue, 04/12/88 by enldc8c at bostonu   # 156 *****
Subject:     After the "Big Night"
From:        Eric, Lord Sabre (enll6ac at bostonu)

     Morning graced the canadian lands.  Most of canada was currently
frozen tundra, roughly similar to the frozen oxygen you find on the
surface of planets like Pluto, and nothing like the fabulusly lush
waterworld of Eroticon III.
     It is worth noting that all planets orbiting Eroticon are
paradises.  Eroticon IX, for instace, is a damp, sweaty world in which
the heady scent of intermingled body odor is prevelent over the green
     We mention this merely because the area immediatly surrounding a
small puptent in the canadian wilderness resembled Eroticon IX far more
than it resembled Pluto.
     Inside the puptent, sprawled in a sleeping bag, were two sweat
soaked, exhausted, eminently satisfied paladins who were not smoking
cigerettes (Paladins don't smoke) but who were chewing Golgafrinchan
Euphoracandybars one of the paladins had found in his Bomber Jacket.
     "That was incredible," said Linda, incapable of movement.
     "Mmmmmmmm," murmered Matt, incapable of coherence.
     "I mean, I've never had the entire universe swirl in shades
of purple, no matter who I've slept with."
     "And the chorus of woodland sprites singing "Like a Virgin" was a
good touch, even if a bit tasteless."
     "And the corona of light flowing though both of us as--" the remander
of this particular description has been censored to give a bit of privacy
to the two--besides, I really don't think we could get away with the
graphic description on a public topic.  Needless to say, it involved
several divine beings, choruses of song, incarnete primal forces, and at
least four birth control methods.
     "Well, we'd better get moving...we have to *yawn* find the soulcrystal
and get to *yawn* saving the universe, lover."
     "Mmmmmmm," said Matt, cherubic smile on his face.
     After an hour of preperation, cleaning up, and occasional toungings,
Matt and Linda were on the trail, if moving very slowly with slight limps.
     From behind a rock, a very young, perky woman with giant bat wings and
little horns jumped out.  She immediatly smiled her hyperseductive smile
and gyrated for Matt, saying, "forget this silly quest, cutey...why not come
with me *seductive giggle*"
     Matt yawned, "no thanks.  Not that I don't appreciate it, but for the
first time in my life, I'm not only not interested, I think I'm incapable."
     The succubus stared.  "Come on," she said, acting in ways that no human
(excepting one who had touched infinaty through sex the night before) could
resist.  Unfortunatly, Matt had touched infinity the night before....
     "I really don't think he's interested," said Linda, with a slight smile.
Matt slipped his arm around Linda.
     "Oh...oh...FUDGE!!!" said the girl, plopping to the ground, crying a
bit, and holding her head in her hands.
     "Fudge?" asked Matt.  As far as he knew, Succubi didn't censor their
language very often.
     "Now Satan will be SO mad at me...he'll banish me to the pit...oh
I can't get ANYTHING right!"
     "You're new at this, aren't you?" asked Matt.
     The succubus looked up, tears in her eyes, and nodded.
     Linda took pity.  "Well, you know...Matt's just really tired...."
     "Yeah, if you'd had reached me yesterday, or a little later, I'd NEVER
have been able to resist."
     "Oh, you two are just saying that!"
     "No," said Linda, really feeling bad for the girl, even if she was
a she-demon, "Really."
     "What's a nice-seeming girl like you doing as a Succubus anyway?"  asked
Matt, who really hated to see someone that sad.
     "Oh, you wouldn't be interested...."
     "Sure we would," said Linda, sitting down across from her.
     Matt sat down next to her and smiled.  "Relax...we just want to help."
     "Well...*sniff*...well it all started when I was fourteen...."
     Meanwhile, Satan (still suffering from his migraine and therefore in a
really, REALLY bad mood) was sitting in his hotel room's lazy boy, sipping
a mello yello and chatting with Muck-Luck.
     Muck-Luck was saying, "You know, I had no idea I was a subliminal
slave of you."
     "Yes, you were...that's why you enjoyed digatizing Lisa Bonet so much."
     "Really?  I thought just about anyone would have enjoyed that."
     Satan considered.  "You have a point there."
     "Anyway, why'd you bring be here," asked Muck-Luck, sipping his Moxie.
     "Well, I thought you'd like a chance to get revenge on Matt DeForrest
and the Intern."
     "True, I would."
     "Well, I'd like to see both of them blown to little bits as well, as
long as you blew up Radar Vogel, Linda Madison, Trudy Tetwaters, Time
Agent 357, Bubba the Death Merchent from Hell, and Ralph the Giant Space
Weasel from Antrhax V as well."
     "Why that group?"
     "I have determained they are the only ones who can prevent me from
destroying the universe."
     "Why Trudy Tetwaters," asked Muck-Luck, remembering that Trudy was the
only girl, boy, man, woman, or ameboid in the universe that had actually
LIKED his name.
     "Trust me on that one."
     "oh, all right."
     "Very good, let me get Dr. Calagari to outfit you with a TARDIS
tracker and a telewarp ship."
     Outside the room, Eshalla (Satan's personal Secratery Succubus), read the
notice she had to give Satan, and shivered.  On the paper was a simple report
from the color demon Wolley.  "The intuder escaped, the SSR is gone, it wasnm't
my fault, it was all Der's fault, please nuke him and not me!!!!!"
     Eshalla didn't want to be in the dimension when his Unholiness read the
     Back in Canada, Toni (the Succubus) was still telling her simple story
to Matt and Linda.
     "So anyway, Satan came through and suddenly I was the most beautiful
girl on the cheerleading team...but even though all the popular people in
school wanted to be my freind...none of my old friends seemed to like me anymore
and acted like I was just some jerk like all the rest."
     "Yeah," said Linda, "and I'll bet all your new friends just wanted to
get you in the sack, or gossup about you, right?"  Linda had been there.
     "Right...and then Derek--'member Derek?"
     "The guy with the skin condition?" asked MAtt?
     "Yeah, he said I had lost everything that made me special, so I went
home, got my dad's thing you know, I'm a Succubus and I have to
do whatEVER Satan says."
     "Jeez," said Matt, "All doesn't seem fair."
     "Yeah, and he's got some pretty sick instructions, I can tell you."
     "Wouldn't be the devil, otherwise." said Linda.
     "I suppose.  Boy, you two sure are nice."
     Matt blushed.  "It's all part of the job."
    "Well, I better go back...they're gonna be angry, but I couldn't try
to corrupt either of you...not after you tryed to help and all."
     "Hey," said Linda, "Why not come with us?"
     "Sure," said Matt, "We can always use a hand--besides, I'll bet if you
do some really really good deeds, you can go to heaven after all!"
     "You mean...oh thank you!"  She hugged her two new friends, crying tears
of joy in the sort of thing we expect in a really shmaltzy sort of movie.
     When this little piece of info hit Satan, combined with the previous
piece of information, he completly nuked the ritz-carlton and a few more things,
for good measure.


These questions and others like them will be debated and
dissected by a panel of experts in the next sfstory csnotice,
brought to you by viewer support and a grant by the Chubb

***** Entry appended 18:30 on Tue, 04/12/88 by enll6ac at bostonu   # 157 *****
Subject:     Natchwald's continuing struggle
From:        Eric, Lord Sabre (enll6ac at bostonu)

     Natchwald, newly superpowerful due to incredible bionic enhancement,
shot along the atmoshere of Earth at a very fast rate.
     How fast is fast, you ask?
     Well, take a very fast moving object, like, oh, say, a bullet.
     Now double that speed.
     Double it again.
     Add about three hundred miles per hour to it.
     Now multiply it by a factor of four.
     You wouldn't even be close.
     He looked below him--he'd been in the Canada area and was now flying
towards the remains of Boston, where he had last seen the Intern.
     Flying over where Portland, Maine once was, he locked onto it to scan the
Spam pits, out of curiousity.
     Predicably, none of the proper authorities had yet taken any action.
However, there was activity down below.  Intrigued, Natchwald went to a
sudden, horrific, seemingly impossable-but-then-so-is-a-man-flying-at-mach-
8 stop.  He locked on the activity and used his imager enhancers.
     There were several demons, digging in the spam.  Nearby them was the
remaining wreckage of the HMS Goodguy, slowly sinking in the spam.  Natch
decided whatever the demons were doing, he sure as heck didn't want them to
be doing it.  Besides, it was Satan who was responsible for alienating him from
Radar and Linda, who were his only remaining friends that he knew of, as it
had been months since the Challenger II had been destroyed and all hands
presumed engulfed in Spam.
     He swooped down, breaking the sound barrier, and locked his autodeath-to
all repeater cannons on the demons, blowing away the weaker ones in less time
it took to read the comment.  In fact, you got so far behind reading this stuff
that Natch has already locked his supercharged electron rams and blown away
two other demons, and fired an antimatter cannonade at the last of them.
     Natch paused to allow the readers to catch up with him.
     Then he looked at what the demons had partially unspamed.
     It was unmistakably Satan himself.  The all evil duke of smelly feet.
Except he seemed lifeless.  Satan dead.
     Natch supposed not, there'd have been something on the news about it.
Natch   guessed (quite correctly, as it turned out) that Satan had been forced
out of his own body and was probably in someone elses.
     Well, this body might actually be useful as a weapon against the old
foot smeller.  Natch scooped it up and carried it away.
     Soon he was crusing over boston's remains.  Swooping down to the
area he had last seen the Intern and Radar, he detected no signs of life
in the area anywhere.
     "Damn," he muttered.  "Where could those two have gone?"
     Then he thought, a process greatly aided by the hypercomputer processor
that was attached to his brain.  Obviously he had been built to track down
Satan's enemies--to destroy them.  The Intern was one of his enemies, and had
a TARDIS...obviously he had to have a TARDIS tracker built into his systems
     He began to check all of his systems.  Boy, there was a lot of them!
He ran through the lists and lists of programs and funtions his Bioenhanced
body was capable of doing.  Lots of them were destructive, several interrogtive,
and a few were culinery.
     He finally uncovered one called "seek".  Not "findintern" or anything
decypherable, just plain "seek."  Well, he supposed he'd give it a whirl.
     Engaging it gave him a set of cooderdantes.  He punched them into his
autopilot, slung Satan's cometose body over his shoulder, and leapt into the
     Needless to say, the coodanetes led nowhere near the Intern, who was still
in the Time Vortex trying to pinpoint the locations of either Linda or
the Soulcrystal.
     Where they did lead was New Haven, Conneticut.
     He looked around, ignoring the silly people who looked like they had
never seen a bioniod warrior land on their street holding the comostose
body of an infernal immortal before.  "Intern," he shouted.  "Radar?"
     Natch turned and looked at the bizarre, alien, mechanical, LOUD
     A robot, bristling with more weaponry than the US Navy had mounted
on any sixty of their Battleships, had they sixty battleships, which they
don't, and at least seventy feet tall, stood over Natchwald and glared.
On the robot's crimson torso was stamped "Satan's Special Roboid Enforcer
and Destroyer."
     "Oh needlewarp," mumbled Natchwald, who had no idea what it meant but
had heard lots of aliens in his travels say it the way we'd say things too
vile to be heard by our mothers.


The answers are theoretically going to possibly arive sometime in the
     possible future in Sfstory, the evasive topic.

***** Entry appended 20:46 on Tue, 04/12/88 by enll6ac at bostonu   # 158 *****
Subject:     Where a few plot convelutions come together
From:        Eric, Lord Sabre -}------------- (enll6ac at bostonu)

     "Well, we should be there any moment," said Matt.  He was refering to
the locatiopn of the Soul Crystal, which he had just queryied from
superbrain at oracle2 which, as most of the readers of this rather involved
discussion should know, is the omniscient computer account he accidentally
stole from Muck-Luck.
     His two companions nodded.  The two were both female, but that's about
where the similarity ends.  One was Linda Madison, although Matt had never
asked her last name and the author had only recently discovered it in a
back posting.  Linda was a paladin, and was as sweet as new-fallen snow,
assuming the snow is sugerwater.  The other was Toni, who had traded her soul
in high school for popularity, died a couple of weeks later, and was now a
succubus-in-training who was doing a very poor job of it, having joined
Matt and Linda in their quest.  The two were walking alongside Matt, and
Matt and Linda were holding hands in the nausiating way that young lovers
have, despite all of their friends asking them not to.
     "Hey, HEY!" shouted Toni excitedly, "There it is!!!"  She swooped up
into the air (her batwings obviously not for show) and flew towards the
blue, glowing object the author had neglected to mention was in the distance.
     After a few moments, Matt and Linda arrived at the crystal as well.
     It was a huge uncut, jagged sapphire, flawed in many places, but who cares
because the bloody thing was twelve feet high and around six to eight feet wide.
There was a ghostly image the group couldn't quite make out.
     "It's incredible," murmered Matt.
     "I wonder who it is," murmered Linda.
     }}}}}Linda?  Lieutenet Linda Madison?{{{{{
     All three jumped back as the image coalesed into a slightly iffeminente
Captain in a NASA jumpsuit.
     "C-captain Vogel?" breathed Linda, barely able to hope....
     }}}}}Well, it ain't the Queen!{{{{{
     "What...what happened to you?  Last I knew, you were running around
completly mad!"
     Toni shifted, "uh, do you think you can introduce us?"
     }}}}}Completly Mad????  I was run down by some biker, after we hit the
Spam blob, suddenly I was on Earth in a pile of Spam with you and Natch and
my sister, then this really seriously evil being appears out of nowhere
in my mind, makes me throw up, and forces me out of my own head and over
into this crystal.  I've been here ever since!{{{{{
     "Ahhh..." said Matt, not noticing the beer keg appearing behind them.
     "Linda!" shouted Radar.
     "MAtthew," shouted the Intern.
     "Radar," shouted Matt,
     "Toni," shouted Trudy,
     }}}}}Radar!{{{{{ shouted Steve, who apparently agreed with Matt.
     "What?" shouted Toni, who was confused.
     "Intern, Radar, oh this is wonderful!" shouted Linda, who liked happy
     After several minutes of completly mindless confusion, the group figured
all of the mind-boggling coincedences out.
     Matt and Radar knew each other from Boston University, where Matt was
President of Danielson Hall and Radar had appointed herself honorary
First Lady of the entire council of presidents.
     Toni and Trudy had apparently gone to the same high school together.
     If you don't know everyone else's relationships to each other, type
"sendme sfstory v3n005 or v3n006, where the last update should reveal
     Twenty minutes later, the whole group was sitting in the TARDIS
control room, safely in the TARDIS control room.
     "Well," said Matt, highly enjoying Linda's sitting in his lap, and
wondering if this meant they were 'going out,' "can we swing by Danielson,
at least so I can rework my schedule to include wars with satan?"
     "Errrr," said Radar, in the Intern's Lap, "That's really not neccessary..."
     "I'm afraid Boston was destroyed, probably by some agent of Satan," said
the Intern, who was dead wrong.
     }}}}}Can we track down Satan so that I can once and for all get my
own bloody body back?{{{{{
     "First, we need some way to track down the SSR.  Only then can we
truly arm ourselves against Satan."  The Intern was worried, that would be hard.
     "Hey," said Linda, "where's Natchwald?"
     "Natchwald turned out to be an agent of Satan," said Radar.  "He's been
broken by my fiancee, here."  She patted the Intern in a cute little way.
     "Hey--I can track down the SSR" said Matt.
     The Intern looked quizzingly at Matt."
     "I have Muck-Luck's Omniscience account now--I can find out anything."
     "Oh," said Trudy, "So you're the guy that Muck-Luck wants to matter
     "Matter--WHAT????  Hey, it was his fault--if he hadn't wanted to
digitize that girl...even if it was Lisa Bonet."
     "Hmmm...I could reverse the process and bring her back," said the Intern.
     The TARDIS was suddenly pitched back and forth in violent ways, convincing
the Intern that hyperpowerful beings like his author would be disturbed if he
did that.
     Mark Hyperthrust walked onto the bridge.  Trudy, one of the Intern's
assigned companions, shrieked in the proscribed companion way at his approach,
but Mark ignored it.
     "Linda!!!!" he shouted, his heart rising.
     He ran and scooped her up off of Matt's lap, dumping Matt on the floor.
"Put me down," she said, squirming and startling Mark to no end.
     "But baby," he said.
     "You heard the lady, put her down." said Matt, standing and pulling himself
up to his full 5'7" height--staring right into Mark's shoulder.
     Mark put her down and drew his type two phaser.  "You gonna make something
of it, hypersnot?"
     Matt drew his Heavy Death Really Kill'Em Personal Nuker, which was by far
the more impressive weapon.  "Yup."
     "Hyperthrust," the Intern said, "if you don't put that silly thing away
I'll personally remove your shoulder from the rest of you."
     Mark paled.  Things did not look advantageous.
     Linda walked over and put an arm around Matt.  "I've found a better lover
and a better man," she said, doing wonders for Matt's ego, if making him blush.
     Radar stared.  Mark was a ggod lover--Matt was better?  All those times
she had rejected him....ARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!
     Both Trudy and Toni started checking out MAtt's physical prospects a
little more seriously.
     Humiliated, Mark walked over to the minifrige, mumbling "-30 on style for
backing down, -10 on bearing and reputation for humiliation...I wish I'd been
left in the Cowboy's On-Hold storyline, for god's sake."
     }}}}}May we please get back to the problem at hand?  Matt, please plot
a course to the SSR{{{{{
     "We know its in Nether-Space," said Radar, who didn't know that in fact it
     Matt assumed Radar knew what she was talking about and plotted a course
to nether-space, instead of verifing this information.
     "All right then," said the Intern, let us away!!!!!"


Check out SFSTORY

***** Entry appended 22:57 on Tue, 04/12/88 by enll6ac at bostonu   # 159 *****
Subject:     Quick character sketch
From:        The Cowboy (THC8650 at TNTECH)

Due to reader request, I am presenting a quick overview of the characters
currently stranded on Latigid

Bubba (aka Bubba the Wontan and Invincible Death Merchant for Hell):  An
innocent New Yorker (or at least as innocent as anyone from New York can be)
who, due to stupidity within his control, was taken over and controlled by
Satan, Omegas, God, Doctor Bing Von Spleen, and several other characters.
Somewhere along the way he died, but that doesn't bother him too much.
Having once been controlled by Satan, he is now immune to most of his
powers, and controls physical strength far beyond the ken of mortal man.

Doctor Bing Von Spleen:  The galaxy's foremost Spamologist (only because he
killed the other three-most).  Inventor of the ABPSAR (Automatic Beet Peeler
and Sub-Atomic Re-integrator) and is noted to have a very clean complexion.
With the ABPSAR, he can travel anywhere within the realms of Time and Space,
Netherspace, Otherspace, Hyperspace, and any other continuum you can name.
Unfortunately, the ABPSAR only works correctly if powered by Spam or
neoSpam.  If powered by anything else, ANYTHING can happen.

Ralph (aka Ralph the Giant Weaseliod of Anthrax V):  Actually a very gentle
6 foot tall weasel and an accomplished ukulele player.  Has spent a lot of
time in Netherspace and doesn't really know what's going on.  Will try
anything once, especially if it involves 500 female weaseloids.

Zark Flyby:  Second Lieutenant Zark Flyby of the Interstellar Time Police is
charged with maintaining the temporal balance in our area of space.  Don't
hold your breath.  He has a habit of bellowing his name and title.  His
favorite past-time is killing anything that moves.  His IQ and shoe size are
of the same magnitude.

G. X. P. Varneyloop LXVII:  Free-lance ego inflator and name-maker.  Uses
his initials because nobody (including himself and the author) can remember
his name.  Was once a servant of Satan, and will someday be partner to Time
Agent 357 (unless St. Peter changes The Book again).  Has a tendacy to make
people very mad at him, and is always suggesting new names for ppl who are
very happy with the ones they have.

I would like to point out at this point that a new author has agreed to
adopt these characters, so everybody else leave them alone for a while.

The Cowboy

***** Entry appended 02:30 on Wed, 04/13/88 by THC8650 at TNTECH    # 160 *****
Subject:     More on 357
From:        The Cowboy (THC8650 at TNTECH)

Time Agent 357 and his ship travelled through Time and Space, moving
simultaneously in all ten dimensions at once.  Of course, noone noticed
this, as you would have to be in the non-existant 11th dimension to see
them.  In any case, he was heading for a random Time and Place.  His plan
was to avoid Satan (currently in the body of Steve Vogel), disassemble the
SSR (Spam Systematic Re-integrator), return to where he found the SSR
(Netherspace), and take on Satan singlehandedly (357 being one of the few
mortals in the known multiverse capable of such a feat).

A tiny alarm buzzed, jolting him awake.  He looked over at his ship's
computer, VAL 9000.  "What's the alarm for, Val?"

=My sensors have recorded the simultaneous eruption of 50 supernovae= the
ship replied.

"Oh," said 357, going back to sleep, totally unaware of the signifigance of
the events that were going on in Eric's postings.

Back in Netherspace, Satan Vogel flashed into existance.  Noticing that the SSR
was missing, he immediately threw a major hissy-fit.  He then swung smoothly
over into a conniption, followed quickly by a temper tantrum.  After he had
calmed down sufficiently to question his demons, he vaporized half of them
in a fit of pique.  He then surveyed the others.

"We have to speed up our plans," he told them.  "Using my newly developed
powers of Time Travel, I'm going to send you back in Time a few days.  You
will then go to Earth and dig my old body out from under a large pile of
neoSpam."  With a gesture, he sent them away.

Back on Latigid, Doctor Bing Von Spleen, G. X. P. Varneyloop LXVII, Zark
Flyby, and Bubba all watched the ABPSAR expectantly.  They had just finished
fueling it with several large dogs, two pairs of underwear, a small tree
that didn't move fast enough, and the spare powerpack from Zark's
Blastomatic.  Doctor Spleen reached forward and flicked the switch.

"Flick," said the switch.

"So long!" said Reality.

Up in Heaven, St. Peter viewed this happening with a huge grin on his face.
Grabbing his Holy Eraser and several fresh Bic pens, he prepared the way for
a new author to enter SFSTORY.

"Take it away, Nathan," he chuckled.

Where will 357 and the HMS Golden Lance end up?
Will 357 be able to disassemble the SSR?
Will Nathan take it away?
Why are my entries getting shorter and shorter?
Does anyone really care?

For the answers to these and others, tune into the next exciting showing of
BEETLE JUICE, showing at a theater near you.

***** Entry appended 02:58 on Wed, 04/13/88 by THC8650 at TNTECH    # 161 *****
Subject:     Of men, bugs, and monkeys
From:        Scott McGuire (89SGM at WILLIAMS)

"Shall we boil them?" the bald native man asked.

"With delight," the giant blue cockroach agreed.

Omegas looked at Quooth.  They had both been disarmed of their weapons; a
blaster gun and a harmonica.  Apparently there weren't a friendly set of
beings in the Bend at all.  Omegas concentrated harder than he'd ever
done before in his life in an attempt to use his weakened powers to make
another blaster appear; instead, two aspirin materialized.  Which it
turned out was fortunate, because the effort he'd gone to had given him a
migraine.  He swallowed the aspirin.

"My pot is this way," the man said, pointing with his spear.  He prodded
Omegas and Quooth, and t(p)hey moved.

"If hungry one is not the reincarnation of my ghu-ghu-gorsht, why does he
whistle the song of him?" Quooth muttered to phimself.  Phe could not see
how being boiled with the rude Omegas would aid t(p)hem on t(p)heir quest
as phis ghu-ghu-gorsht had promised phim t(p)hey would be in phis vision.

Soon enough, they came to a large atypically black pot, which was only
big enough to hold either Quooth or Omegas at one time.  Relieved, Omegas
said to Quooth, "You first."

"They will not both fit," the cockroach observed.  "What shall we do?
Meat must be eaten freshly boiled.  But if we stop to eat one
gourmet-food, the other will try to walk away."

"Then we should eat one raw while the other is boiling!" the man
exclaimed.  He rubbed him stomach in anticipation.

"Of course," the cockroach said, "my brain is overloaded with
anticipation."  It clicked its mandibles together.

This horrific scene was shattered by a wild yell, which sounded like,

"Hey, it's the song of MY ghu-ghu-gorsht," Omegas quipped.

Quooth bobbled phis head at Omegas.  "Do you have one too?  I thought
soft skinned beings did not have the required number of sexes."

Omegas was going to reply scathingly, but there was another yell,
followed by a hairy man swinging past Quooth and Omegas on a vine,
straight into the black pot.  His momentum turned crashed the pot to its

The man, wearing something that might have been zebra skin, except it had
green stripes, pounded on his chest with his fists and yelled yet a third

"The pot is cracked," the cockroach noted, examining it as it lay on its

"How dare you interrupt our meal," the man cried.  He swung his spear at
the new arrival.

"You won't eat these strangers!" the man with the zebra skin exclaimed,
ducking the swing and punching the native man in the stomach very hard.
The native man lost his appetite, along with consciousness.

"Perhaps I shall go eat more conventional food," the blue cockroach said,
"this gourmet food is disagreeable and appears as if it will molest me
too."  It skittered off.  "But on second thought, a source of
conventional food is available here."  He returned, and took hold of the
unconscious bald man.  He dragged the body off with him, nibbling

"Thank you, oh man from the trees," Quooth said.

"My pleasure," the new man said.

"Likewise, man.  You must be Tarzan or something, brought up by the
apes," Omegas said, having watched too much TV while on Earth.

"It is true that I lived with the simian inhabitants of this planet," the
man said, "but I am Malcolm.  I am not originally of the Bend.  My
research ship crashed on this planet after it was damaged by the rather
unpleasant individuals of the first planet.  Have you met them?"

"Yeah," Omegas said.

"It has been long since I have seen visitors from the outside universe,"
Malcolm said, "and I must know:  why do they need monkeys?"

"Monkeys, man?" Omegas asked, puzzled.  "Ask the ones in the trees."

Malcolm smiled sadly.  "The sounds are a recording I put there to keep
myself company.  I didn't much like anyone on this planet, except for the
monkeys.  But several years ago, galactic officials, from our universe,
came and took all the monkeys away."  He paused.  "I wondered if you knew

Quooth, who had nipped off to retrieve phis harmonica and Omegas's gun,
returned and said, "Those with authority abuse it frequently.  Their
intention was probably not charitable."

"Yeah, they probably took them off to be a rock band," Omegas said.

"I wonder if it has something to do with the fifth planet," Malcolm
wondered.  "Have you a spaceship?"

"Yes, rescuer Malcolm, we have such a craft," Quooth replied.

"Have you scanned the planet around the fifth star?"

"No, for we examined each planet as we came to it, but we surely will now
go to the fifth star," Quooth explained.  "For you would not mention it
if there was not something out of the ordinary about it, and thus this is
the aid my ghu-ghu-gorsht spoke of.  Go there we will."

"We're on a quest," Omegas explained.  "Care to join us?"

"No, my duty's here, protecting visitors from being eaten by the
natives," Malcolm said.  "But if you get to the fifth planet, please see
if you can find the monkeys for me."

"We shall, rescuer Malcolm, and we thank you," Quooth said.  T(p)hey
parted company, and not much later, Quooth and Omegas were nearing the
fifth star.

Omegas was working the scanner.  He thumped it a few times.

"Do not damage our loaned ship," Quooth snapped at him.

"Our loaned scanner is busted," Omegas said.  "I'm just trying to fix
it."  He thumped it a few more times.  "Hey, this isn't broken!  That
planet is reflecting scans.  There's something someone wants to hide

Quooth rubbed serveral opposing hands together.  "Then we must be getting
closer to the object of our quest!  Let us land."

Omegas piloted the ship just ahead of the planet's position in space, and
moved laterally towards it, planning on intercepting it as its orbit
brought it in line with their position in space, since he couldn't pilot
backwards towards it due to the Bend and he didn't want to miss the

Just as it should have been in the right place, it reversed the direction
of its orbit, and our hero's spacehip thus missed it completely.

"What the hell?" Omegas exclaimed.  "Planets can't do that!"


Is this just another oddity of the Bend?
Or is this planet somehow significant?
Is the fact that all the monkeys have been stolen significant?
Is the fact that Malcolm was originally from Chicago significant?

You might guess that to only some of these is the answer yes, but to be sure, yo
u'll have to check out a future episode of SFSTORY!

***** Entry appended 10:46 on Wed, 04/13/88 by 89SGM at WILLIAMS    # 162 *****
Subject:     The Battle of Ultranatch
From:        Eric, Lord Sabre (enll6ac at bostonu)

     Ultranatchwald stared at the Really Big Giant Immense
Collosal Killer Robot sent by Satan to destroy him.  With a
shudder, he knew just how David felt when he got his sling and
fought Golith.  Of course, Natch's sling could take out most
of the USAF, and Golith could nuke the eastern seaboard, but
it's still an adiquete comparison.  Trust me, I'm an English
major who's been especially trained in recognising effective
literary comparisons and, once and for all, this is one of them.
     "What do you want," asked Natch, counting on the fact that
most of Satan's willing servents were stupid and he could likely
short out this thing's microprocessor if he confused it.
     ::I highly desire to execute my assigned and duly programmed
mission for the highly potent infernal entity cooqually known
as Lucifer, or Satan.  This mission currently entails the absolute
humiliation, deactivation, termination, and destruction of Wilhelm
Natchwald, ex-Lieutenent in the United States Air Force, ex-navigator
for NASA, ex-member of the crew of the ex-starship Challenger II,
ex-questor for the body of Captain Steve Vogel, ex-unwitting servent
of Satan (see above) and soon to be ex-living orginism.::
     Natch swallowed hard.  Confusing his opponent seemed right out.
     ::Now then, shall we proceed with this with little effort,
whereby I crush you and take Satan's body back to him, or violently,
whereby we cause rather a lot of incedental damage to the area, I crush
you and take Satan's body back to him?::
     "Option three."
     ::Option three?::
     "Yup," Natch swandove into the very crust of the earth, went
down about three miles, left Satan's body entoumbed there, and
flew back up, causing an explosive shower of multiple tons of
rock and underground cable immediatly underneath the  Enforcer,
which was knocked off balance and fell, doing even more property
damage to New Haven.
     Before the killer robot could recover, Natch blasted it with
the full gamut of his weapons systems, all reasonably ineffectually.
     The robot flipped up, grabbed a few buildings from the Yale
campus, and crushed Natch with them.  However, Natch was built to
withstand such piddling attacks, and through a good portion of
the New Haven downtown shopping section back at the Enforcer.
     The New Haven police showed up, but were largly ignored by the
combattents and will thereby not be mentioned again.
     The enforcer fired multiple repeater missiles, a couple of
which actually hit Natch, but most of the rest took out most of the
middle class neighborhoods in New Haven.
     Natch followed suit by throwing his Autodeath-To-All weapons
beams at the robot, which bounced off and sprayed down the New
Haven public and private schools.
     Right about now, the mayor of New Haven decided that there might
just be a bit of a problem.  But before he could make a rational
decision, his City Hall building was hit by a crossfire of the Robot's
Shock cannons and Natch's Antimatter cannonades, so it was a bit
irrelevent anyway.
     Natch decided that this might not be the best meathod of fighting.
He flipped on his scanners just in time to bioread an incredible energy
buildup in the robot--flying over Natch.
     Natch threw everything he had into emergancy flight, going
from 0 to 3,435 mph in less than a second.  He narrowly avoided the
energy blast, which impacted on the ground and reduced New Haven to
a three mile in diameter crater, making many of the readers wonder if
any New England city mentioned in Eric's postings would survive.
     The robot slumped back to Earth, as Natch scanned it from
above.  He detected a sign written in ultraviolet on its back:
          |                   ATTENTION                  |
          |                                              |
          |                       DO                     |
          |                      NOT                     |
          |                     SHOOT                    |
          |                      THIS                    |
          |                     POINT                    |
          |                                              |
          |                       +                      |
          |                                              |
     "What the hell," mumbeled Natch, who slammed every weapon he
had with utter pinpoint accuracy onto the small plus sign.
     The robot seized up, squealed a blood (actually oil) curdling
scream, and fell.
     "All right!!!!!!!!!!"  Natch yelled, doing a few barrelrolls
and loop-the-loops in mid air out of sheer enjoyment of his feat.
     The Enforcer stood up.
     "Oh shit," said Natch, who froze in mid-air.
    ::Don't be frightened, little friend, I won't hurt you.::
     The robot smiled a robot smile.  ::Like, we all have to live
in peace and harmony with the universe, man.::
     "Uh, right."
     The robot looked at the devistation around him. ::Oh, wow, Man
Like, really bad trip!::
     "You, uh, you bet," said Natch, who was wondering if there were
a few bugs in his Multiphase Omnihearing.
     ::Like, when will people and divine beings learn that you just
can't cause this much pain in the world.::
     "I know it," said Natch, beginning to catch on.  "I mean, with
all the nuclear bombs and whale hunting and acid rain in the world,
there just seems to be so damn little point to it all."
     ::Yeah, but you tell that to Reagan, or Satan, or any of the guys
in power, and its just 'no no, there's no reason to stop now, just
because we're posioning our environment and killing our trees and
commiting suicide as a society!'  God, it makes me wanna puke.::
     "Hey, man, like, there's some people you oughtta meet."
     "Yeah, c'mon!"
     And so, six hours later, Natch left the robot with Greenpeace
at the Brown University campus, picked up Satan's body, and headed
for outer space.
     After reaching the edge of the sun, he threw Satan's body into
it, and flew back towards Earth, figuring it would be a bit too hot
even for demons to get the body back from that.  Now to find The Intern
and Radar!
     In the Essex House, where he had moved to after destroying the
Ritz-Carlton, Satan developed a really nasty ulcer upon hearing the news.


Well, we'll leave the poor slob whining.  He's been hitting the
booze lately, you know how it is.  In the meantime, do tune into
the next really heavy hitting, hyperexciting SFSTORY CSNOTICE,
ID at the door, please.

***** Entry appended 23:29 on Wed, 04/13/88 by enll6ac at bostonu   # 163 *****
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