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Sfstory Log 068
=========================================================================
Date: Sun, 4 Dec 1994 22:44:00 EST
Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
From: lost in the former west (SWEDE at DRYCAS.CLUB.CC.CMU.EDU)
Subject: SF: Renegade Anarchists III, episode eleven
RENEGADE ANARCHISTS III:
THE THROWING OF FRISBEES
(a Tale of Sfstory!)
Episode 11
"Tomato"
by
Gary W. Olson
-~-_-
Gyrating in space, she awoke.
The ship that was her body was dead -- no, not dead, just powerless. The
explosion had knocked out the ship's power grid, but it was not damaged.
Already, automatic systems were beginning to revive, and she felt the nucleic
matrix that was at the heart of the ship's spam drive slowly return to life.
Monitoring data began to filter into her perception, and she instructed the
navigational subroutines to calculate their current position, based on star
positions. She scanned her interior, and stopped.
There were two people lying face down on the floor of the bridge. Two
people in ornate bishop's robes. Judging from the data, it appeared that they
were alive, and returning to consciousness, as she was doing.
"Whoah," one of them said. "What...what happened?"
"Cardinal Hagen," the other one said. "Is that you?"
"Yes, Cardinal Van Cleef," Cardinal Hagen grumbled. "Where are we?" He
looked up and blinked. "Man, I knew I shouldn't have had those chili
peppers."
"I don't think it's an illusion," Van Cleef said. "This room...looks
like it belongs to some second-rate science fiction show." He looked at
Hagen. "Not that I watch such shows, mind you."
"It has to be a trick of some kind," Hagen told him. "Come on, let's
look for a way outta here..."
She decided to speak, before they could screw too much up, and activated
the speaker units. Another portion of her activated the retro-jets, to stop
the ship's gyrating.
"Hello," she said.
"Yikes!" Hagen and Van Cleef yelped, with Hagen jumping into Van Cleef's
arms. Van Cleef staggered, and the two fell back into the captain's chair.
"I'm sorry," she told them. "I didn't mean to startle you. My name is
BRENDA. You're on the H.M.S. Shannon II."
"H.M.S?" Hagen asked.
"Heroically Manned Ship," BRENDA explained. "Although the Hero isn't
here at the moment."
"W-we're on a spaceship?" Van Cleef asked.
"Yes," BRENDA said. "It appears that the explosion that destroyed the
Vatican had the effect of teleporting you into this ship, and teleporting this
ship out into the deep reaches of outer space. My systems are just coming
back online -- I should have an exact fix on our current location soon."
"Explosion?" Hagen asked, terrified.
"Teleported?" Van Cleef asked, even more terrified.
BRENDA sighed, internally, and accessed a special subroutine that she
could run to explain it all in single-syllable words. As she did, the external
high-resolution scanners kicked in, and the data they gave caused her to
immediately suspend the subroutine.
"Oh, Hell," she said.
"Hey, watch it!" Cardinal Van Cleef exclaimed, dropping Cardinal Hagen
to the floor in the process. "We're Church officials, you know."
"I was being literal," BRENDA explained. "Hell is approaching our
position rapidly."
She activated the viewscreen and focused on the fearsome warships that
were approaching the Shannon II. Van Cleef and Hagen yelped, again.
"This is the PLS Tell-Tale Heart," a stern, female voice crackled over
the speakers. "By the authority of Satan T. Lucifer Jones himself, you are
commanded to surrender and be boarded!"
"Hmm," BRENDA hmmd. "Sounds official." The cardinals quivered.
-~-_-
Logan did a light ballet across the carpet of Sajanseel Boudoir's office.
Lt. Zark Flyby, the Officer in Charge of Peaceful Relations for Time Central,
snarled and continued to pick at his nose with the barrel of his laser rifle.
His not-considerable mind was trying to remember if he had known Logan from
before Time Agent 357 had killed him, and if he had liked him or not. Given
that Zark's mind does not contain many functioning brain cells, and given that
most of the cells that did function only understood the commands 'kill' and
'no kill,' it should come as no surprise that he was not having much success.
He decided he did not like Logan, particularly if, as Chief of Time
Central, he was as weird as the person he saw in front of him. Zark aimed
his laser rifle at Logan and flipped off the safety.
"No kill," Boudoir's words came to him. Zark growled at the voice.
Zark noticed that Logan was standing directly in front of him now,
holding a bunch of flowers (which had been, up until that moment, in a pot in
the far corner of the office) up to his nose.
"Pretty!" Logan squealed.
"Get those out of my face!" Zark yelled. He grabbed the flowers from
Logan and hurled them against the wall, following up with a few rounds from
his laser rifle, and a grenade or two.
When the smoke cleared, he noticed that Logan was grinning widely.
"Neeeeeeeeeeeeet!" Logan exclaimed. "Do it again!"
"Um, okay," Zark said. "Got any more flowers?"
Logan looked around, like a child on an important quest. Seeing none,
he frowned. Then he saw Boudoir's hyperphone, and pointed to that. Zark
frowned. Boudoir would be angry -- but he hadn't told Zark that he couldn't
shoot at inanimate objects in his office. At least, Zark couldn't remember
him saying anything about it, which, given Zark's rather porous memory, wasn't
much.
"Okay, Logan," Zark said. "You throw it and yell pull."
"Pull!" Logan yelled, throwing the phone in the direction of the doorway.
Zark pulled out his plasma cannon and blasted the phone, the door, and the
opposite wall in the hallway to little bits.
"Pull!" Logan yelled again, throwing the ashtray, a cigar, and an eraser
in different directions around the office. Zark went into full-tilt violence
mode (which was just a few millimeters away from his default mode, that of
recreational violence) and blasted away at the objects. Despite the fact that
the objects were atomized almost instantly, he kept blasting away, laughing
heartily.
Logan, meanwhile, grew bored with the display, and wandered out the hole
that had been the door.
-~-_-
"Ommmf," Benjen groaned. "No, mommy, not the human suit..."
He became vaguely conscious that someone was poking him. No, the someone
was punching him. He counted the knuckles, and decided there were five.
It was coming from somewhere under him, and while it was distracting, it wasn't
quite painful. Nevertheless, he decided to open his eyes, to figure out what
was going on.
Two gorgeous eyes stared back at him. Benjen realized they belonged to
Kissy Hitowers, and that he was lying on top of her. He also realized that,
in addition to looking absolutely outstanding in a nylon jumpsuit, she also
smelled terrific.
When she got her arm free and punched him between the eyes, he realized
she also posessed a formidable left hook. He rolled off her and groaned.
"What's the big idea, you creep!" she yelled at him. "I get knocked
unconscious, and you just can't wait to take advantage, can you? Sometimes
I wonder who's worse - you or Mark Hyperthrust."
"But...but...I was unconscious, too," Benjen protested. "I just woke
up." He sat up, and blinked. "Hey, what happened to your house?"
"Don't change the subject!" Kissy exclaimed. "Just wait till I get the
Eroticon Police on the phone..."
"You'll have to make it a long distance call," Benjen told her. "Look
around."
Kissy scowled at him, and looked around. Her face lost her scowl, and
was replaced by shock and confusion.
"Either your house and all it's contents have turned into food," Benjen
said, "or we're on the Planet of Supermarkets."
"Unless I miss my guess," Benjen said, "we were teleported out of your
house at random. Or 'matterswung,' as that robot put it. The weird part
is that I remember something about a quantity of beer cans replacing my
mass..."
Shoppers passed them by, evidently having better things to do than
question why people were sprawled in one of the endless aisles.
"That's how my father disappeared," Kissy said, more to herself than to
Benjen. "That means Varneyloop is responsible. I...I..."
From that point, her natural talent and years of training and education
took over, and she let out one hell of a scream. Benjen winced, and stuffed
some bread rolls in his ears.
-~-_-
Kalvin Certain forced his foot into the excruciatingly tight boot,
wondering what kind of demented mind thought he should try to walk in such
things. Perhaps he was going to model a new line of footwear for
masochists.
But that didn't really fit the rest of the getup. The clashing colors
of his spandex bodysuit were hard on the eyes, but the feel of the suit was
comfortable. The cape was obscenely huge, but if he was careful, he felt
sure he could keep from tripping over it. The chest prostetic was silly-
looking, but lightweight. Plus, he didn't have to wear a mask.
He forced himself to his feet, wobbling a bit as fresh spikes of pain
shot up his legs. Gingerly, he stepped towards the door, trying to get
used to the pain by concentrating on the thought of the money he could
use to get off of whatever weird planet he was on.
The door opened just as he got to it, knocking him on his posterior.
"Hey, no lying down on the job!" the small, balding man said as he
looked down on Kalvin. "Get up! Time to earn your pay."
Kalvin got to his feet, and carefully followed the small man into
the dingy corridor. He noticed the heavily armed guards at both ends
of the corridor, all of whom were wearing great-looking yet incredibly
bizarre armor, much of which had to be decorative. His earlier sense that
going along with the modeling was somewhat compulsory was rather on
the mark, he decided.
The small man was leading him to a door near the far end of the
corridor. Kalvin winced with every step, making a mental note to see a
foot doctor after he got paid. The man opened the door, and Kalvin stepped
through. He stopped, and gaped.
It was a rather large classroom, with hundreds of artists standing
in front of white boards with brushes, or pens. None of the artists, all
of whom were rather shabbily dressed and were even more shabbily
complexioned, looked away from their drawings, or from the model for their
drawings, as he entered. Curious, he staggered over and peered over the
shoulder of one of the artists.
The drawing depicted a rather startlingly sexy woman, wearing only
the skimpiest of costumes. Kalvin's brow furrowed, as he analyzed the
details of the drawing.
"What do you think?" the artist asked. "Cool, huh?"
Kalvin asked the only thing he could think of asking.
"Don't you have *gravity* where you come from?!?"
"What do you mean?" the artist inquired, confused.
"Those...things...are huge!" Kalvin exclaimed. "How can she stand
like that? Does she have little anti-grav chips in her bikini?"
"Look at her," the artist said, peeved. "You'll see how realistic my
drawing is."
Kalvin looked at the artists eyes, or what he thought was his eyes, it
being rather difficult to tell through glasses that thick. He grunted and
looked down at the semi-circular stage that was against the far wall of the
classroom.
While the model was certainly wearing a skimpy costume, it wasn't
nearly as skimpy as the one the artist had depicted. It was also clear that
she was wearing a special chest prosthetic, much like he was (only not quite
the same design).
He looked at her face, and recognized her instantly.
"Gham!" he exclaimed.
She looked up, tired confusion on her features.
"You know her?" the artist asked, impressed.
"I've...met her once," Kalvin said, as he began hobbling towards the
stage.
"Can you tell her to arch her back a bit more?" the artist asked. Kalvin
ignored him.
WHAT'S GHAM DOING MODELING FOR A BUNCH OF DERANGED ARTISTS?
WILL SHE ARCH HER BACK MORE?
WILL KALVIN HAVE TO ARCH HIS BACK?
HOW WILL BENJEN AND KISSY ESCAPE THE PLANET OF SUPERMARKETS?
IS IT BETTER TO GO TO HELL, OR TO HAVE HELL COME TO YOU?
HAS ZARK STOPPED SHOOTING YET?
You will read SFSTORY. SFSTORY is good. SFSTORY is your friend. SFSTORY
can only be found on SUPERGUY.
=========================================================================
Date: Sun, 11 Dec 1994 22:17:39 -0500
Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
From: lost in the former west (SWEDE at DRYCAS.BITNET)
Subject: SF: Renegade Anarchists III, episode twelve
RENEGADE ANARCHISTS III:
THE CHARGING OF GIFTS
(a Tale of Sfstory!)
Episode 12
"Polyphony"
by
Gary W. Olson
-~-_-
"I am not certain that this is a good idea, friend Navigator," Quooth
said, rubbing his feelers together with uncharacteristic nervousness. "Should
we not come up with another plan, one that does not endanger my Holy
Harmonica?"
"We do not have enough time for a new plan," Zen informed him. "Already,
the Giant Space Worm is trying to digest us."
"Oh, man," Pope Joe Don I said. "Bugs that talk. This is too weird."
"I assure you," Quooth replied, "I am far more plausible than you."
The headless body of Governor Schlub held his belly, as though laughing.
"Okay, one more check to make sure everything is secure," Zen Navigator
announced. He looked over the ABPSARI, which he had made some modifications
to, mostly to correct some of Joe Don I's more egregious errors, but partially
to attach an electronucleic sound transmission cup to the funnel leading into
the ABPSARI's nucleic chamber, and to attach another device to the Holy
Harmonica, and to attach the two devices with a good length of industrial
sound wiring that he had stored under one of the seats of his minibus, next
to a stash of three-decade old sandwiches and a copy of 'The Prince and the
Discourses.' Schlub stopped pantomiming a laugh and picked up the book,
as though he could actually read it. Zen finished his inspection and stepped
over to the Harmonica.
"We are ready!" Zen announced.
"I should be the one to operate the Harmonica," Quooth asserted.
"I appreciate your offer, friend Quooth," Zen said. "But I am a trained
professional at finding my way out of tight spots. Plus, while it's very
little well known, I happen to be a mean harmonica player!"
"Very well," Quooth said, uneasily, as he moved to the driver's seat of
the minibus. Zen nodded to him, and Quooth started the engine, shifting
the gear into drive. The minibus lurched forward, trying to move despite
the tendrils that had wrapped around it. Zen waited a while, until he was
sure the engine was up to full speed and that the connection between the
ABPSARI and the spam drive of the minibus was holding.
He took a breath, and began to play the Harmonica.
The notes entered the ABPSARI, which began to emit weird lights.
"Damn," Joe Don I said. "Never did that for me."
Schlub seemed to look up from his book (though it was hard to tell for
sure), and watched the colors.
Zen continued to play.
The ABPSARI's lights got more frentic.
Then...
BOOM!
...they were gone.
-~-_-
"Do I...know you?" Gham asked, as Kalvin made his way to the stage.
"Kalvin Certain," Kalvin said, suavely. "We met on Planet Kookamonga IX
last time, I believe. Or in it, actually. You had just been captured by
the OmniDean, and I popped in to let him know I was highjacking his Spam Lite
barge and to take Alexander Berkman back."
"Oh, yes, that's it," Gham said. "I thought you were dead."
"It's a long story," Kalvin replied. "Fairly confusing, too, for anyone
who hasn't been reading Sfstory for the last, say, eight years."
"Whatever," Gham said, with a noticable lack of luster.
"You okay?" Kalvin asked. "How long have you been here?"
"They dosed me with sedatives," Gham answered. "As for how long I've been
here, I don't know. I...materialized in the dressing room, and they thought
I was this temp model. That was months ago."
"Hmmm," Kalvin said. "I appeared there as well. You were on Planet
Barbados when you were abducted, weren't you?"
"Yes...how did you know?" Gham asked. For a second, it looked like she
was fighting through her sedation.
"I encountered some friends of yours," Kalvin said. "Slithis, Benjen,
and..."
"Jerriphrrt?" Gham asked, her eyes lighting up. "Was Jerriphrrt there?"
"Yes, he was," Kalvin said. "Unfortunately, things happened, and we
got seperated. I don't know where he is now."
"I...see," Gham said, sinking back into sedation.
"Hey, could you get out of the way?" one of the artists called. "You're
blocking my view with your amazing pecs!"
Kalvin moved gingerly aside, the tightness of his small boots sending
pain shooting up his legs. His mind was racing -- it was very apparent that
the people here had a very loose definition of 'temp.'
"The others who were with you," Kalvin whispered. "Emma Goldman and
James Dean. Do you know where they are?"
"No," Gham replied, in a small voice.
Kalvin reached into his belt, fumbling around for a small tablet. A
guard looked up at him, and he smiled weakly. He withdrew the tablet, wondering
how to give it to Gham.
Was it a good idea to bring her along? It was possible she would hinder
his ability to move quickly and stealthily. But his boots were already doing
that. Besides, she was a Karma Chameleon, and her bioelectricity would make
for a good weapon against the armed guards they would surely encounter while
leaving.
Besides, if he played his cards right, he thought, he might get lucky.
He coughed, and slipped the tablet under his tongue.
"I've got a plan," he whispered to her. "Just play along with me."
"Okay," she whispered back.
"Hey, everyone!" Kalvin exclaimed, to the assembled group of artists.
"Time for a new drawing. One that features romance...passion...subtle
eroticism..."
"Sex!" the artists exclaimed in unison. They tossed away the drawings
they were working on and prepared fresh art boards.
"Wait..." Gham started.
"Trust me," Kalvin whispered.
"Okay, now the first scene establishes the attraction," Kalvin said.
"It's called...the kiss."
"Awwwwwwww..." the artists groaned.
"Look, art means sacrafice," Kalvin said. "So get ready." Grumbling,
they raised their ink pens to their boards. Kalvin lifted Gham to her feet,
and tried to lean in. His chest prosthetic bumped up against her chest
prosthetic, and he strained to cover the remaining inches to her mouth.
With a final push, his mouth reached hers, and they kissed.
-~-_-
"Must be strange, being two sideburns in control of an entire body,"
Slithis said, drowsily.
"Yes, it is," Sid said, out of the left side of Lark's mouth. "We've
had to interface with his mind before, but not to quite such an extent as
this..."
"Oh, how interesting," Beauregard sighed. "Look, could you change
the subject? You've been commenting on that for the last twelve hours!"
"Twelve and a half," Lewis's disembodied voice intoned.
"*And* you...!" Beauregard exclaimed.
Megabot hummed, sullenly.
"Look, there's got to be a way out of here," Slithis said. "What have
you guys tried?"
"We've searched all over for secret passageways or doors," Beauregard
said. "Nothin."
"Or, at least, we think we've looked everywhere," Lewis added. "It's
impossible to tell, in this place."
"We don't have any scanning equipment, unfortunately," Beauregard said.
He looked up at Megabot, hopefully. Megabot saw the look, and shook his
head, in a rather depressed manner.
"Have you tried any special phrases?" Slithis asked.
"Like what?" Johnny asked, out of the right side of Lark's mouth. "Ni?"
"Yeah, like that," Slithis told him.
"Ni!" Sid and Johnny exclaimed. Nothing happened.
"Abra cadabra!" Lewis exclaimed. Nothing happened.
"Open sesame!" Beauregard tried. Nothing happened. "Damn, I was sure
that one would work."
"Hommina hommina hommina!" Slithis exclaimed.
This time, something happened. Namely, he was knocked over as a door
rose up out of the floor. Sitting up, he looked at the wording on the side
of the door that was facing him.
'This way in,' it read.
"Hmm," Slithis commented. "Should we try it?"
"It could be a trap," Sid suggested.
"Even if it is a trap, it beats staying here," Beauregard concluded.
"Open it, I say!"
Slithis stood up and opened the door. He had to squint, as bright
sunlight flooded in from the land beyond the door.
"Oh...my..." Johnny commented.
"I'll second that," Beauregard said.
Megabot said nothing, but his humming increased.
"Naked bodies, big deal," Lewis said in a bored tone.
With this, Slithis forced his eyes open, waiting for them to adjust
to the light. After a few minutes, he found he could see, and he took in
a breath.
The beach seemed endless, and seemed to be heavily populated, without
being too crowded, by nubile, attractive beings of every conceivable species,
most of them appearing to be female. The air was warm, the water inviting,
and, best of all, not a stitch of clothing was in sight.
"Still think it's a trap?" Sid asked.
"Oh, I hope so," Slithis said, as he moved forward, onto the beath.
The sand burned into his feet, but he barely noticed. Sid and Johnny moved
Lark's body to follow him, and Beauregard and Megabot followed. Lewis
followed as well, as they could tell by the vaguely disapproving hum they
heard above them.
"Man, I thought Barbados was the ultimate," Slithis said. "What is
this place?"
"It's Nympho Beach, in Netherspace," a perky blonde human woman, who
couldn't possibly be past the average college freshman age, told him. "Hi,
I'm Suzie! Who are you, cutie?"
"I'm high," Slithis replied, with conviction.
"Cool!" Suzie exclaimed.
It was around this point that a psychadaelic VW minibus exploded onto
the scene and plowed into the beach, knocking Suzie eighty feet into the
water.
"Soooorrrrryyyyyyy!" Zen Navigator called. From somewhere in the
minibus, Slithis could hear an unmistakably papal belch.
HEY, TWO SUBPLOTS JUST GOT COMBINED!
DOES THAT MEAN ACTUAL PLOT ADVANCEMENT JUST OCCURED?
HOW CAN WE HAVE PLOT ADVANCEMENT WITHOUT A RECOGNIZABLE PLOT?
WILL KALVIN GET LUCKY WITH GHAM?
WHERE ARE EMMA AND JAMES?
WHAT'S EATING GILBERT GRAPE?
By now, you know that these questions are pretty much useless, and only stir
up vague feelings of non-fulfillment within you. And so, in desperation, you
wait for the next episode, only on SFSTORY!, the bright new star in the
SUPERGUY television network.
=========================================================================
Date: Tue, 27 Dec 1994 14:41:26 -0500
Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
From: lost in the former west (SWEDE at DRYCAS.CLUB.CC.CMU.EDU)
Subject: SF: Renegade Anarchists III, episode thirteen
RENEGADE ANARCHISTS III:
THE PAINTING OF FIGURINES
(a Tale of Sfstory!)
Episode 13
"Newt"
by
Gary W. Olson
-~-_-
Susan B. Anthony tapped her sharpened nails against the glowing metallic
surface that was the right arm of her command chair. The metal was approx-
imately at 100 degrees celsius, and would have burned the skin of the
living mortals who stood cowering before her, had they touched it, or even
come too close to it. She could withstand the heat easily, since she was
the (former) secretary to Satan T. Lucifer Jones, Prince of Darkness, Duke of
Smelly Feet, and all-around Big Kahuna of Badness, and the current Executive
in Charge of Plots to Dominate Sfstory for Hell, Inc.
She picked up her cup, and drank the boiling Earl Grey tea within it.
The two before her continued to cower. Delicately, she replaced the cup upon
the armrest, and smiled at them, grimly.
"Tell me--"
"Yaaah!" they exclaimed. "Don't torture us! We never even touched the
sheep!"
"Calm down..." she started to instruct.
"Help!" one of them yelped. "I feel faint!"
"We must not listen to her, Cardinal Van Cleef!" the other told the first.
"Shield your ears! Shield your eyes!"
Susan clapped her hands sharply. Five demons marched in and promptly
began beating the stuffing out of the captured Cardinals. The rest of her
bridge crew, which consisted of assorted tech-level demons and lost souls, who
did most of the important work, and the command staff, which was standing or
sitting on the command deck with her eating brie and discussing the finer
points of which level of the inferno Ricki Lake would best fit into, mostly
ignored this, given how mild it was, by Hell's standards.
She thought of Satan, and hoped his new secretary was being conscientious
about bringing him paperwork to sign. Hell would fall into disarray again,
if he didn't keep up with the paperwork. She smiled to herself at the image
of Satan grimacing as she wheeled in another wheelbarrowful of requisitions
for multi-pronged gut-eviscerators, adjustable Kraft-o-matic impalement spikes,
brain-eating Kantian-philosophy-spouting earworms, and subscriptions to the
Weather Channel. He would curse her up and down and back and forth and
sideways and back and hither and yon and off to grandmothers house we go, but
he never, *ever*, lifted a finger against her, even though he had cut
previous and succeeding secretaries into kibble for so much as looking at him
funny (which is hard *not* to do when one suddenly barges in on him while he's
lounging in his recliner in flaming red boxer shorts watching 'Lord Pluto's
Gorgeous Ladies of Underworld Wrestling').
"Ow..." one of the Cardinals groaned, and she shoved the idle thought
aside. The demons were marching off, and the Cardinals, who were now propped
against each other and bleeding profusely, were staring, slack-jawed, in her
general direction.
"Now will you listen?" she asked.
"Sure," Cardinal Van Cleef said.
"Right-o," Cardinal Hagen added.
"The ship you were on is now in one of our hangar bays," she said. "Never
mind which one right now. A crack team of our best scientists, including
Bennett Quark, are going over it as we speak, looking for information. It
would be much simpler if you supplied it, though."
"What...do you want to know?" Van Cleef inquired.
"How you got this far out in space, in that ship," Susan said. "Last we
knew, it was on Earth, at the Vatican, having delivered an agent of ours to
kill Pope Joe Don I. Then there was an explosion, and, minutes later, one of
our warships, the PLS Importance of Being Earnest reported that the ship
seemed to explode into being. I immediately assembled a fleet and we made our
way out here -- and found you two inside."
"We'll tell you nothing, minion of the devil!" Cardinal Hagen shouted.
"Nothing, do you hear me? Nothing!"
Susan clapped her hands again, and the demons barged in for another round
of gratuitous violence. This time, Susan didn't slip off into a lot of
mostly unconnected exposition, and the next paragraph commenced almost
immediately.
"Okay, we'll tell you everything," a very woozy Hagen said.
"Which is?" Susan asked.
"We don't know," Hagen said. "We were swept up in the explosion, and
woke up on the bridge."
"What do you think, Milagro?" Susan asked.
"They could be lying," Milagro Bekn'kse said. "But they look too stupid
for that."
"Hey!" Van Cleef protested.
"We have to know," Susan told him. "Pull Quark off the investigation of
the ship, and have him probe the skulls of our two guests. Guard!"
A guard, this one not a demon, despite the small, conical, hornlike lumps
on his head, emerged onto the bridge and smartly pivoted on his heel, saluting
Susan and standing at attention. Susan looked at his name tag, which read,
'Hi! I'm Nootgingitch'.
"Private Nootgingitch, take these two to Bennett Quark's lab, and inform
him to run full scans on their brains, if they have any.
"Aye!" Nootgingitch said, saluting again, before grabbing Hagen and
Van Cleef by the shoulders and forcing them to stand. Grumbling and whimpering,
they marched into the elevator shaft, followed by the guard.
Susan tapped her fingers as the door closed, and took another sip of
boiling tea.
-~-_-
With all that was available for his eye to take in, Slithis was surprised
to find his attention grabbed by the small black dot that had begun to grow on
the sand. It appeared to be a shadow of some sort, but Slithis couldn't
discern just what was casting it. Moreover, whenever he *did* attempt to
determine what was doing the casting, his eyes immediately found some much
more worthier things to contemplate.
"I have heard tales of this place," Beauregard (who was *not* what
Slithis's eyes had found to contemplate). "Nympho Beach, in Netherspace. I
think there's supposed to be a casino around here someplace, too."
"Over there," Zen Navigator, also not the object of Slithis's
contemplation, said, pointing towards the large casino at the edge of the
beach, where a large, glittering sign proclaimed its name: Club Nympho.
"Sounds promising," Slithis said, before returning his eyes to what he
was very worthily contemplating, as she bounced on the trampoline, waving at
him. Seeing her made him very aware that he was one of the few sentients on
the beach (or in the pink ocean that was lapping against it) that was wearing
a shred of clothing. He was disinclined to strip, however, not out of
modesty or propriety, but because doing so might encourage Joe Don I to
follow suit, and he was worried that *that* would frighten away the population
in the immediate vicinity.
Joe Don I, meanwhile, scanned the beach for Schlitz, and frowned.
"What should we do, friend Zen?" Quooth asked. "This is an interesting
place, to be sure, but it is only a step on my Holy Quest to Find That Which
I Seek. We must continue our journeys!"
"Um, of course, friend Quooth," Zen said. "I'll head over to the Club
to ask for directions. Why don't you go and...lie down on the beach a ways,
very close to the water, and take a nap for a while. You look tired."
"An excellent suggestion, my friend," Quooth said. "I shall take it."
The Wzaxtil started phis way down the beach, soon becoming lost among the
plentitude of unclad flesh.
"Well, you've gotten *him* out of the way," Lewis's disembodied voice
said. "Now where to?"
"I did not seek to 'get rid' of him!" Zen said. "We shall go to
Club Nympho as I said, and ask for directions."
"That won't be necessary," a voice said. "I can help you."
Slithis looked away from who he was contemplating (and her amazing
triple-axle pirhouettes) and saw a three-legged man advancing towards them.
Unlike most everyone else on the beach, he was also wearing clothing, including
a t-shirt that read 'Club Nympho Staff'.
"Hi," he said. "I'm Dan. New here?"
"That we are!" Zen exclaimed, before Slithis could say anything. Slithis
chanced to look back down at the black spot on the beach, and saw that it had
grown to the size of a basketball. "We arrived here rather suddenly, as a
result of a dimensional rift we caused to escape a Giant Space Worm. That's
my minibus, over there." He indicated the psychadaelic VW minibus, which
had already attracted a number of nubile, stoned nymphos.
"You'll have to move that later," Dan said. "But let's get you checked
in, first. Are you all in the same party?"
"No, no, no," Slithis said. "Just coincidence that we happened on the
beach at the same time."
"So you'll be settling your bill seperately?" Dan asked.
"Bill?" Beauregard asked back. Megabot hummed a similar question.
"Sure, you think this is cheap?" Dan asked. "Why, I've been working here
for years, paying off what I owe. Mind you, it was worth it..."
"How much?" Zen asked, as he casually whipped out his wallet and started
whipping out thousand-credit notes. Slithis's jaw dropped.
"Hmmm, let's see," Dan hmmmd. "There's, what, nine of you in this party?"
"How'd you know?" Sid asked, out of one corner of Lark's mouth. "One
of us is a disembodied voice, and another went down the beach. Plus, me and
Johnny are co-occupying this body here."
"We know these things," Dan told him, without reprimand. "Your bill would
be one thousand credits for all nine."
"Then...um, we're with him," Slithis said, indicating Zen Navigator. Zen
smiled and handed Dan a thousand-cred note, which Dan fed into a small device
attached to his waist. Slithis looked down, and saw that the black, shadowy
spot had grown considerably, and was now the size of a Volvo. He looked up,
and became considerably distraught.
"Is there any Schlitz inside?" Joe Don I asked.
"If that's what you want, it is," Dan said. "We've certainly gotten
requests for stranger beverages. Slithis tapped Zen on the shoulder, and
pointed upwards. Zen looked up, and frowned, thoughtfully.
Governor Schlub wasn't doing anything interesting at the moment, but since
he hasn't been mentioned yet in this scene, now is probably the only time I'll
be able to do so.
"Joe Don I," Dan said. "You're a Pope, right?"
"Right," Joe Don I answered. "I just hope the Big Guy don't find out
about this."
"I wouldn't worry," Dan said, chuckling. "Saint Peter is the co-owner
of the Club Nympho. Besides, you're not the first Pope we've had here. Why
don't I sign you up for the Vatican II suite?"
"Sure, I guess," Joe Don I told him.
"Relax," Dan said, assuringly. "What do you think will happen -- the
Vatican suddenly appearing high up in the atmosphere and then falling at
lethal velocities on your head?"
"As a matter of fact," Zen said. "That appears to be exactly what is
happening." They looked up, and regarded the massive building which was
generating the ever-increasing shadow that was now the size of a parking
lot. They also noticed that the nubile females who had been nearby were
no longer nearby.
"Oh dear," Slithis commented. "And I was so getting to like this
place."
"It won't hurt me at all," Lewis said, smugly. "After all, I don't
have a body to be crushed."
"Oh, shut *up*, Lewis," Beauregard pointedly replied.
The Vatican landed upon them with a very violent crashing sound.
HAVE OUR HEROES SURVIVED GIANT SPACE WORMS, ABPSARI WARPS, RANDOM TELE-
PORTATIONS, BAD BEER, SPONTANEOUS DECAPITATIONS, AND OTHER THREATS ONLY
TO BE SMUSHED BY A RENEGADE PAPAL RESIDENCE?
WILL THIS GIVE MORE ROOM FOR PLOT DEVELOPMENT TO MY OTHER SUB-PLOTS?
LIKE THE ONES WE HAVEN'T HEARD FROM IN THE LAST THREE OR FOUR EPISODES?
YEAH, THOSE ONES.
We're SFSTORY, and you're not.
=========================================================================
Date: Thu, 12 Jan 1995 23:20:26 -0500
Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
From: the moon is in the gutter (SWEDE at DRYCAS.BITNET)
Subject: SF: Renegade Anarchists III, episode fourteen
RENEGADE ANARCHISTS III:
THE TOASTING OF BREAD
(a Tale of Sfstory!)
Episode 14
"Archipelago"
by
Gary W. Olson
-~-_-
"What do you mean, it's no longer there?!" G.X.P. Varneyloop asked, with
a considerable amount of anger and distress.
"Just that, sir," the image of himself on the screen answered. "The
initial matterswing probe revealed no mass at the object's last known
coordinates, only empty air. The surrounding area was also scanned, and no
objects detected matched the shape and mass of that which you seek."
"It's been there for tens of thousands of years!" G.X.P. exclaimed. "Why
did it have to be moved now?"
"Well, sir, if you'd given me longer lasting batteries..." the G.X.P. on
the other end started.
"No robot duplicate of mine is going to say that to me!" G.X.P. snarled.
"Find the object. Don't report back to me until you know exactly where it is!"
"Yes sir," the drone answered. G.X.P. tapped his finger on a button,
severing the communications link to Eroticon III.
All that work he had done, buying the information concerning the long lost
art of matterswinging, a science that predated translocation, teleportation, and
transmatting, a means of transportation that no shield could stop; getting the
most brilliant minds in the galaxy to construct a machine that could matterswing
objects up to the size and mass of a starship to the farthest reaches; getting
the most brilliant minds in the galaxy laid so they wouldn't tell anyone about
the machine they'd just built; gathering fragmentary information on the object
from a variety of shady sources; dragging the most brilliant minds in the
galaxy out of the brothels so they could put the information together for him;
getting the most brilliant minds in the galaxy full blown-out drunk, erasing
their memories, and leaving them in the alley to get mugged...
All that work he had done, for nothing.
"Bugger it all," he commented. "Maybe I'll go into real estate instead."
Just then, the door to his communications suite opened, and a man in
a three piece suit with a quickly receding hairline and a thick mustache walked
in. G.X.P. recognized him instantly as Gordy, one of the Assistant Managers of
the Planet of Supermarkets.
"Sir," Gordy said, in a supplicating tone. "We've located the two you
told us to be on the lookout for."
"Very good, Gordon Milanar, Smasher of Worlds, Hero of the Stars,
Assistant Manager to the Known Universe and a Very Interesting Person Indeed,"
G.X.P. told him, using the new name he had given Gordy just days before. "How
did you locate them?"
"The screaming, as you said," Gordy replied. "It's on monitor 817,948."
G.X.P. punched up the monitor, and an image came to life on the screen
in front of him. It showed a reptilian male, Slithis, on the ground and
clutching bread rolls to his ears, lying next to Kissy Hitowers, who was
standing and screaming. G.X.P. knew better than to turn on the audio.
"Have them brought to me," G.X.P. instructed.
"Yes sir," Gordy said. He pivoted and walked out the door, closing it
behind him.
"Perhaps, my dear," G.X.P. said to the enhanced image of Kissy's wide
open mouth, "you'll be able to tell me what my robot drone could not."
-~-_-
"Are you *sure* this is the penalty for a simple defiling?" Jerriphrrt
asked, as he was marched closer to the circular opening in the temple wall.
"Can't I just straighten the room out, perhaps dust a bit, and we'll call
it even?"
The high priest, who looked more than a bit like Jaye Davidson, did
not reply. His smile, however, did grow broader, as they reached the opening
and he turned to face them.
"NOW, OFFENDERS AGAINST THE GREAT FERTILIZER GOD KA, YOUR END IS NEAR!"
he exclaimed.
"Owww," Melu, a succubus currently possessed by Lark Purree's mind,
groaned. "Can't you speak a little quieter?"
"I AM BEING QUIET!" the priest protested. "I'VE GOT THE LITTLE VOLUME
KNOB DOWN ON '1'!"
"Your treble is off, too," Jerriphrrt critiqued. "Look, I know some
excellent stereo shops..."
"SILENCE!" the priest commanded. "FOR YOUR TRANSGRESSIONS, YOU WILL BE
THROWN INTO...THE STARGRATE!"
"The Stargrate?" Jerriphrrt and Lark/Melu asked in unison.
"YES, THE STARGRATE!" the priest exclaimed. "A PASSAGE TO A WORLD FAR,
FAR FROM HERE, BUILT EONS AGO BY OUR ANCESTORS. A PASSAGE WITH A GRATING ON
THE OTHER END, SO THAT WHEN YOU EMERGE, IT WILL BE IN LITTLE, KIBBLE-SIZED
CHUNKS!"
"That sounds rather...um...weird," Jerriphrrt said. "Why'd they build
this thing, if they're just going to put a grate on the other end?"
"WELL, YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN THESE THINGS ARE GOING TO COME IN HANDY!"
"He's got a point there, Jerri," Lark said.
"Don't encourage him," Jerriphrrt instructed. "And don't call me Jerri."
"THROW THEM IN!" the priest commanded the loincloth-clad guards. They
grabbed Jerriphrrt and Lark by the shoulders, and started pushing them towards
the opening, which was starting to glow an eerie blue color.
"Wait!" Lark protested. "Don't we get a last request?"
The priest signaled for the guards to stop.
"LIKE WHAT?"
"Like...um...moonbeams in a jar?" Lark asked.
The priest snapped his fingers, and a young lad ran off. A few minutes
later, the boy returned with a glowing jar. The priest took it and handed it
to Lark.
"Damn," Lark said. The guards pushed him into the opening, and Lark
vanished.
"AND YOU?" the priest asked. "WOULD YOU LIKE A LAST WISH, TOO?"
"Hmmm," Jerriphrrt purred. "A full body massage from Samantha Mathis?"
"I'M AFRAID WE DON'T HAVE ONE OF THOSE," the priest responded. "IF YOU'D
ASKED FOR JASMINE GUY, THOUGH..."
"Nope, I'm afraid I'm going to have to stick with Samantha," Jerriphrrt
said. "And since you can't fulfill my last wish, you'll have to let me go,
right?"
The priest signaled the guards, who grabbed Jerriphrrt again, and started
pushing him towards the opening.
"NICE TRY," the priest told him.
"It was worth a shot," Jerriphrrt responded. Seconds later, he hit the
entrance, and vanished. The priest watched the opening for a full minute,
then nodded, grimly.
"IT IS DONE!" the priest announced. The guards cheered. "NOW, BACK TO
WORK! WE HAVE A SACRAFICIAL CEREMONY SCHEDULED FOR TODAY, AND A JARTS
TOURNAMENT LATER ON, AND THE BANQUET ISN'T EVEN STARTED YET!"
"Grumbling, the guards and attendants filed out of the chamber, under the
priest's watchful eye. When he was certain that everyone had left, the priest
turned to regard the Stargrate again.
With a look behind him, to make sure he was in the clear, he stepped
forward, into the opening. He, too, vanished instantly.
-~-_-
It took some effort, but Kalvin Certain broke away from his kiss with
Gham. She looked at him with tranquilized eyes, then swallowed. Kalvin
turned to look at the artists who were watching them.
"There, you see?" he asked. "Was that so bad?"
"Go on to the steamier scenes!" one of the artists exclaimed. "Remove
her skimpy costume!" Rumbles of "yeah!" and "awright!" rolled from the
assembled artists.
"Very well!" Kalvin said. He looked at Gham, who now appeared to be
much more alert than she had just a few seconds before. "Get your pens and
pencils ready!" As the artists did that, he leaned closer to Gham and
whispered, "You ready to get out of here?"
She nodded.
"Now, as you know," Kalvin went on, "drawing different perspectives
will do much to enhance your artistic career. That is why we won't be
modeling on the stage, but rather up near the door on your right there.
There was some grumbling from the artists. "Hey, hey," Kalvin said.
"Any more of that and we won't do the pose at all!" The grumbling immediately
stopped.
Kalvin took Gham's hand, and they made their way up the long aisle to
the door that Kalvin had earlier come in through. They stopped, and turned
to face the artists. The guards at the door watched them, suspiciously.
"Okay, is everyone ready?" Kalvin asked. The artists nodded, vigorously.
"Then...begin!"
Kalvin spun and punched one of the guards in the jaw, dropping him to the
ground like a sack of spam. Gham blasted the other guard with a burst of
bioelectricity, making his eyes go snap, crackle, and pop.
"Alright!" the artists exclaimed. "Violence!"
He took a step towards the door, and found himself falling. It was his
feet, he groaned. Being in those tight boots had been too much for them.
Gham caught him, and picked him up in her arms.
"Thanks for the lift," he said, suavely.
"Whatever," she replied. Gham kicked open the door and ran into the
hallway, carrying Kalvin with her.
-~-_-
Sajanseel Boudoir closed the door and looked at the Time Agents who were
in the room with him. There were eleven in all, carefully recruited by him
over the years
"It's about time you got here," Time Agent Sabrina Sanders, who bore a
distinct and less-than-flattering resemblence to Shelly Winters, told him.
"Were you able to get Logan?"
"Yes," Boudoir said, smoothly. "And he is looking forward to our plan
to take back Time Central from that usurper, Ian Lockheed."
"Lockheed's gone," Time Agent Bahbneu Haht, who resembled Bob Newhart,
said, haltingly. "He left behind his...um..."
"Blue turtle," Time Agent Saran Scone, who very closely looked like Sharon
Stone, finished. "Floyd."
"Yes, once Floyd is out of the way," Boudoir said, "we will be able to
get all of Time Central to swear allegiance to their former Chief, Logan.
Then, Time Central will be run like it *ought* to be run, without any of this
namby-pamby touchy-feely stuff that Ian likes. Are you all with me?"
"What does it look like?" Time Agent Hullen Nel, who looked more than a
bit like Chevy Chase, asked. "We're in the same room. Doesn't that count as
being 'with' you?"
"No, I mean with me as in 'helping me carry out my plan'," Boudoir
corrected.
"Oh, I guess, that too," Nel added.
"Good," Boudoir said. "Now, Mapa, you were in charge of figuring out how
to get to Floyd."
"Yes," Time Agent Mapa Marbles, aka "173", said. (She vaguely resembled
Angelica Houston, in case you're wondering). "We'll be able to take him
easily."
"Very well, then," Logan said. "We implement the plan tonight at
midnight. Everyone agreed?"
A chorus of ayes filled the room.
"Then lets get back to our offices," Boudoir suggested. "Tonight we
meet...to prepare for the future."
"Yay!" the Time Agents responded.
WILL BOUDOIR'S PLAN TO TAKE OVER TIME CENTRAL WORK, PARTICULARLY SINCE LOGAN
WANDERED OUT OF HIS OFFICE A FEW EPISODES AGO?
WHY IS TIME AGENT 173 HELPING HIM?
WILL THE STARGRATE SLICE JERRIPHRRT, LARK/MELU AND THE PRIEST INTO BLOODY,
KIBBLE-SIZED CHUNKS?
WILL KALVIN AND GHAM EVER FIND OUT WHAT PLANET THEY'RE ON?
WILL KISSY HITOWERS STOP SCREAMING BEFORE SECURITY MOVES IN?
In SFSTORY are all things answered. Usually. Well, okay, sometimes. Rarely,
even. You know.
--
Gary W. Olson swede at drycas.club.cc.cmu.edu swede at drycas.bitnet
=========================================================================
Date: Sun, 5 Feb 1995 00:25:26 -0500
Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
From: plot convenience playhouse (SWEDE at DRYCAS.BITNET)
Subject: SF: Renegade Anarchists III, episode fifteen
RENEGADE ANARCHISTS III:
THE BREADING OF FISH
(a Tale of Sfstory!)
Episode 15
"Meringue"
by
Gary W. Olson
-~-_-
"Hey, there, Henry," Morris Tanner said, waving at the aging mailman as
he strolled up the walkway to Morris's porch. "Any mail from New York today?"
"'Fraid not," Henry answered. "Mind if I sit a minute? My bones aren't
what they used to be."
"Sure, take a seat," Morris said, indicating one of several chairs that
were on his porch. Henry always asked before sitting down, even though he'd
been sitting for "a few minutes" with Morris every day for the last seven
years, ever since the Weird Thing happened.
"Nice weather we're having," Henry commented. "Days like this I enjoy
being a mailman."
"Even without mail to deliver?" Morris asked.
"Even so," Henry answered, without missing a beat.
Seven years was a long time to go without mail, Morris thought to himself.
Particularly for an entire small town. Admittedly, Freeport, Maine, was not
a very popular New England town, but there were people who visited from the
outside -- sons, daughters, doctors, lawyers, indian chiefs. All the insurance
companies were located outside of Freeport, yet they had not sent any bills in
seven years.
That wasn't the only peculiar effect of the Weird Thing that had happened
seven years before. The pop music, which Morris had never really liked, but
his son Toby constantly listened to at volumes that the hard-of-hearing found
intolerable, had not changed in that time. There hadn't been a new television
show on for seven years.
It was, as many townspeople put it, rather Weird.
Henry grunted, and stood again. "Thanks for letting me rest, Morris,"
he said, affably. "But a postal worker must make his appointed rounds. See
you at the bar tonight?"
"I'll be there," Morris responded.
Morris watched Henry leave, and looked down the street.
It was going to be a nice day in Freeport.
-~-_-
As Sajanseel Boudoir approached his office, he immediately deduced that
something was not as it should have been. For one thing, the door to his
office was missing. For another, so was most of the wall surrounding the
door. For yet another, the sound of gunfire and exploding grenades could
be clearly heard coming from the office.
"Zark!" Boudoir exclaimed, as he peered around the edge of the wrecked
wall. Lt. Zark Flyby, who was in the process of finishing off Boudoir's
desk with a plasma rifle, looked up and immediately snapped to attention.
"Yes, sir!" he said.
Boudoir looked around. His office was completely destroyed, as were the
offices next to his office, and some of the offices on the floor above his.
He frowned.
"What's going on?" he asked, angrily. "Where's Logan?"
Zark blinked. One question was often enough to stump Zark -- two were
gilding the lily, as it were.
"Where's Logan?" Boudoir repeated.
"Um..." Zark said. "He was here an hour ago."
"Did you kill him?" Boudoir asked.
"No, sir!" Zark exclaimed. "I did not kill Chief Logan, as you ordered."
"Good," Boudoir said. "Good. Now...where is he?"
Zark thought on that one a bit.
"I dunno," he answered, finally.
"Did he escape?" Boudoir asked, patiently.
"Um...yeah," Zark said. "See, he liked it when I was demonstrating my
proficiency at being violent, and he got me to blast the door, and...um..."
"Zark," Boudoir sighed. "Logan, in the time he was in Hell, had more
complete lobotomies than I've had hot Libbyland dinners. And yet...you're
saying he *outsmarted* you?"
"No!" Zark insisted. "He most certainly did not! There's no way he
could...um...well...okay, he did."
"I see," Boudoir commented. "Do you know what this means?"
"Um...um...no, wait, don't tell me..." Zark started. "I...I...no, wait,
that's not it...um...ah...no."
"It means we have to find him!!!" Boudoir yelled at the top of his
lungs. "Before midnight!!! Or everything's ruined!!!"
"Yes, sir!!!" Zark yelled back.
-~-_-
Gham kicked open the door and tossed Kalvin Certain onto the steps.
Kalvin thought he saw her turn around and fire lighting blasts at the guards
that had fought them through their amazing and daring off-camera escape,
but it was hard to be sure, as he was busy involuntarily rolling down the
steps he had just been tossed onto.
"Ow! Ooh! Yow! Ach! Yipe! Ow!" were representative of the noises
he was making on the way down. Fortunately, there were only ten steps,
and his chest prosthetic shielded him from getting too hurt. He only wished
his feet would allow him to stand.
No sooner had he hit the base of the steps than he felt Gham lift him
into the air and toss him again. This time he landed on something with
cushioning, and, after flailing about for several moments, managed to grab
onto the seat in front of him and pull himself up.
"I've seen one of these things before," Kalvin said. "If I'm not
mistaken, it's an...automobile. Combustion-engine, running on flammable
liquid, no flight capability..." He looked around, and saw that he was on
a city street, a street that featured businesses with signs like 'Mel's
Topless Bar,' 'Joe's Bottomless Bar,' 'Mike's Topless and Bottomless Bar,'
'the Gap,' 'Guns! Guns! Guns!,' 'Sex! Sex! Sex!,' 'Orthodontistry! Ortho-
dontistry! Orthodontistry!' and more. He looked at the building he had
just escaped from, to see if it had a sign.
"Future Comic Book Artists of America Training Center of New York,"
he read. "Hmmm. No wonder this vehicle seems so familiar. I've been
on Planet America before."
"It's planet Earth," Gham said, as she flew down and landed in the
driver's seat. "We're in a city called New York."
Gunfire rang out overhead, and Kalvin ducked.
"Could we possibly get *out* of a city called New York?" he asked.
"Hang on," Gham said. She touched her finger to the ignition of the
convertible and let loose a small amount of bioelectricity. The car
immediately started up. She shifted the car into drive, stomped on the
accelerator, and took off into traffic, sending pedestrians, cyclists,
mobsters, and other vehicles scattering randomly.
Within minutes, they had lost sight of the building, though pedestrians,
cyclists, joggers, and orthodontists continued to dive out of the way.
Kalvin noticed that it often happened whenever they encountered an
intersection where one of those quaint red-tinted lights was suspended
overhead.
He thought about offering to help Gham, but she seemed to have the
situation under control. Instead, he decided to work on removing his boots,
so that he might again know the feel of blood flowing through his feet.
-~-_-
The sands of Nympho Beach finally settled, and the nubile, unclad
beachgoers peered with confusion and amazement at what had crashed onto
their beach.
"It looked like the Vatican, when it was descending..." one of them
commented.
"It doesn't now," another said, perceptively.
"What is it?" a third asked.
One of the nubile females stepped forward and dipped her finger into
the mass. She pulled a bit of it away and tasted it.
"Hmmm," she said. "Tastes just like chocolate pudding. Not bad."
Just then, the pudding wobbled, and everyone stepped back. A figure
burst from the pudding and staggered around blindly. Several more figures
followed suit.
"Hey," Slithis asked. "Who turned out the lights? What's with all
the pudding all of a sudden? Help? Someone?" The same nubile female
who had stepped forward earlier stepped forward again, this time with a towel.
She wiped off Slithis's eyes, and giggled as he gaped at her.
"This is quite startling!" another of the pudding-coated figures, who
Slithis recognized as Zen Navigator, exclaimed. "It appears that the
Vatican, when it hit us, was composed entirely of chocolate pudding! And
quite delicious, too!"
"It wasn't made of pudding when I left," Joe Don I said. "I checked."
"Then when you poured the Schiltz into the ABPSARI, it not only
teleported you into my minibus," Zen deduced, "it also teleported the
entire Vatican to a point above Nympho Beach, and turned your former residence
into a tasty, sugar-laden substance in the bargain! Neat!"
Governor Schlub staggered out of the giant pudding glob, seeming
less enthused about the whole thing than Zen was.
"But now we're all coated with this gunk!" Sid, one of the sideburns
in control of Lark Purree's body, exclaimed. "Personally, I find it to be
somewhat disgusting." Next to him, Megabot hummed agreement.
"Anyone got a towel?" Beauregard asked.
*I don't need a towel,* Lewis's self-satisfied voice said. *After all,
I don't have a body.*
"I'm warning you, Lewis..." Beauregard started.
"Is there somewhere I can go to change into clean clothes?" Slithis
asked.
"You can come up to my room!" one of the women, who had red hair,
light blue skin, and really big...eyes...told him.
"And mine!" another added.
"And mine!" a third chimed in.
"And ours!" three more exclaimed.
"Um, okay," Slithis told them.
"Hang on," Dan, who was mysteriously free of pudding, despite having
been under the Vatican when it landed, said. "First I need you to sign in,
just as a formality." Slithis grabbed the slate out of Dan's hands at near-
warp speeds and signed it frantically. Zen Navigator signed it next, then
Joe Don I, then Sid/Johnny/Lark, then Beauregard. Megabot put a crude X on
his line, with Zen's help, and Zen signed Quooth and Lewis in before handing
the slate to Schlub. Schlub considered the list before adding his name at
the bottom and handing the slate back to Dan.
"Okay!" Dan said. "Enjoy your stay at the Hotel/Club/Beach Nympho!"
He watched the group proceed in the direction of the casino/hotel, trailing
bits of pudding as they went. He looked at the list, his eyes scanning to
the bottom. The last signature caught his attention.
"Hmmm," he commented. "Niccolo Machiavelli?" He shrugged. "Takes all
kinds, I guess."
Inside the hotel, the gang went their seperate ways. Zen Navigator
found his way to his room after a mere five hours, and closed the door behind
him.
"Ahhh," he said, out loud. "I could use a good, hot shower. Once I
am done, however, I shall have to locate the lobby again, so I can ask
directions, so that I can continue to aid Quooth in his quest to find whatever
it is he's looking for!"
"You'll be going nowhere, Zen!" a nefarious voice exclaimed.
"You!" Zen exclaimed, whirling.
"Me!" the owner of the voice exclaimed back.
"Ninja Taxi-Cab Driver!" Zen exclaimed.
"Still me!" Ninja Taxi-Cab Driver exclaimed back. "And this time, you
shall not escape my wrath!"
WILL ZEN ESCAPE NINJA TAXI-CAB DRIVER'S WRATH?
WILL ANY OF THE OTHERS HELP HIM, OR WILL THEY BE TOO BUSY WITH PUDDING REMOVAL?
WHERE ON EARTH WILL GHAM AND KALVIN GO?
WILL BOUDOIR AND ZARK FIND LOGAN BEFORE MIDNIGHT?
WHY DID GOVERNOR SCHLUB SIGN HIS NAME AS MACHIAVELLI?
WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH FREEPORT, MAINE?
Not just any story. SFSTORY.
--
Gary W. Olson swede at drycas.club.cc.cmu.edu swede at drycas.bitnet
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