Main Sfstory Page     Previous Log     Next Log     Index for Logs 061-090

Sfstory Log 080

Date:         Wed, 3 Apr 1996 16:21:41 -0500
From:         Nopporn Wongrassamee (NoppornW at AOL.COM)
Subject:      SG/SF/MW/WW: Analogs #10

        "Anything yet?" Anonymech asked for the nth time.
        "No, sir," replied the Generic Extra.
        On the bridge of the Victorious WarShip Enterprise (VWE for
short), Anonymech paced back and forth impatiently. For the past month,
the VWE had been waiting here to rendezvous with another ship. They were
kept waiting because Anonymech's alter ego, the Evil Author, was busy
finishing up the Moronic Kombat miniseries, got writer's block, and has
not really done anything since...
        "Ahem," interupted Anonymech.
        Hey, hold your thrusters! I'll be right with you.
        Anyway, now that the paid rant is out of the way, we can return
to our regularly scheduled plot (such as it is).
        "Sir, spatial-temporal anomaly off the port bow!" cried another
Generic Extra.
        "Finally!" muttered Anonymech. "On screen!"
        The main view screen, a rather useless piece of equipment whose
sole purpose is as a dramatic plot device, flickered and showed the
anomaly in question. The anomaly coughed up a truly huge ship (not as big
as the Symphony o' Doom, but then only the Noj and Yesj are comparable in
size to that monstrosity).
        "Send the code," Anonymech told a Generic Extra who complied.
        Several minutes of anxious waiting went by, and then came the
reply. "Authorization code recieved and acknoledged," it said.
"Mothership Michael Stackpole is at your disposal. What are your orders?"

                  Overly Bar-B-Cued Authorial Productions

    \    /    ####  ##  ##  ####  ##     ####   #####  #####   \    /
     \  /    ##  ## ### ## ##  ## ##    ##  ## ##     ##        \  /
  --- () --- ###### ###### ###### ##    ##  ## ## ###  ####  --- () ---
     /  \    ##  ## ## ### ##  ## ##    ##  ## ##  ##     ##    /  \
    /    \   ##  ## ##  ## ##  ## #####  ####   ##### #####    /    \

                                Episode #10
                           "Back from...wherever"

                          by Nopporn Wongrassamee
                              the Evil Author

                        with advice from Gary Olson

        "Hi, Paul," Mary called, kissing Bane on the cheek as she walked
in. "I'm back."
        "Hmph," Bane hmphed.
        "Er, is something wrong?" Mary asked.
        "Where have you been for the past month?" Bane asked curtly.
        "Past month?" Mary echoed. "I just left for the Moronic Kombat
Tournament just a couple days ago."
        "Oh, great. A continuity error?" Bane muttered.
        "Our Author hasn't written an episode for this series in a month,
so he's fast forwarding everything a month to keep everything in the
'present'," Bane explained.
        "Nevermind," Bane said dismissively. "Mary, I have some bad news.
It's about your mother..."
        That got Mary's attention immediately. "What? Is she dead?" Mary
asked, concerned.
        "Not that bad," Bane replied. "Where did you get that idea?"
        "Er, I don't know," Mary answered. "It just popped into my head."
        Bane raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. He could make a good
guess where that idea came from. "Anyway," he continued, "it seems that
your mother has lost her mind. She thinks I'm some sort of psycho who's
out to get you."
        "What?" Mary said, eyes wide. It didn't occur to her that Bane
might be lying.
        "To make matters worse," he added, "there's a doppelganger of me
egging her on..." Bane proceeded to fill Mary in on the (slightly faulty)

        "I have to go in there?" Mary asked, looking into the pit beneath
the gnarled old tree.
        "Yes, yes," the Semi Master, Yoga replied. "Within your last test
is. Then complete your training shall be."
        The last month had been wonderful. There had been no chasing, no
demons or aliens out to get her. After dropping Mary, Yoga, and the
droids were dropped off on the swamp planet Shtickobwaha, Shamus and Hank
Soil had taken off for parts unknown. In the meantime, Yoga had been
training Mary to be a Semi Knight. Mary learned to use her innate psi
powers and the Semi Knight's weapon, the lite epee.
        Yoga had noted that Mary's psi powers seemed to have strange
quirks. The first and most obvious was her gadgeteering, Mary's ability
to build weird gizmos (not an uncommon ability in 000SFSTORY). Another
was Mary's strange tendency to manifest skills she never learned.
        "Final test, huh?" Mary mused aloud. "After only a month of
        "Move this series along we need to," Yoga told her.
        ""Oh, okay," Mary said as she jumped in.
        She landed on her feet. Already, it was dark; the light from the
entrance didn't seem to penetrate very deeply into the pit. Lite epee in
hand but unlit, Mary searched the darkness for her test.
        There, a purplish light. Mary crept forward cautiously. She made
out a tall, robed figure holding a staff that was the light source. He
looked very familiar.
        "Paul?" Mary called hesitantly.
        The figure who resembled Paul Baines turned to Mary and smiled
sinisterly. "Not quite," he replied, staff flashing with power.

        "Y'know, Mary," Hazel began, "I never knew that your boyfriend
was rich." The cat was content to let Mary carry her as they strolled up
to the front gate of the Baines estate.
        "Neither did I," Mary said. "And Paul's not my boyfriend. He's
just a friend, that's all."
        "Uh huh," Hazel commented skepically.
        "Besides," Mary added, nettled, "I haven't seen Paul since he
went galivanting to another altiverse." She didn't bother to add that she
would have gone with him if it hadn't been for a slight glitch in the
transporter. She studied the gate. "Hmm, I wonder how we're going to get
in. We were invited after all."
        The gate swung open with the whine of electric motors.
        "Right." Mary and Hazel walked through the gate and up the
driveway toward the mansion. A young man stepped up to meet her. Mary's
magical senses buzzed at the sight of him.
        "Hi, I'm Wolfgang Baines," he said. "You must be Mary Sinclair.
Paul told us about you. The whole clan's just dying to meet you." He
smiled at some private joke.
        "Uh, yeah, I'm Mary Sinclair," Mary said. She held up the cat in
her arms. "This is Hazel." She paused a moment to study Wolfgang. "Say,
Wolfgang, you wouldn't happen to be a paranormal would you?"
        Wolfgang gave her a toothy grin. "Mary, the whole Baines clan is
made up of paranormals," he told her.
        Mary blinked. "It is?"
        "Yep," Wolfgang said. "I'm a lycanthrope myself."
        "Let me guess," Hazel put in. "You're a werewolf."
        "Hey, the kitty can talk," Wolfgang said overdramatically. "Well,
actually, no. I'm a weredog. Saint Bernard actually. Aunt Hilda was a bit
off in her reading when I was born."
        Mary chuckled. "How come Paul never told me any of this?" she
        "It's not something we discuss with outsiders," a whispy voice
told her. "Even Illuminati people like yourself."
        Mary turned and saw a ghost strolling next to her. "And you
        "I'm Patricia Banes," the ghost said. "My husband is the clan
head. He wants to talk to you, tonight. It's about Paul." Was it Mary's
imagination or was there a hint of a threat in Patricia's voice.
        The next question was rather obvious. "His name's Lazarus,"
Wolfgang told Mary and Hazel before either could ask. "He's a vampire."

        "Liz? Is that you?" Mary said to the woman.
        "Mary?" Liz said turning around. "Hi, long time no see. And now
you're driving mecha I see."
        "Yep," Mary replied. She noting Liz's service badge. "And you're
a fighter jock."
        Liz grinned. "Not just a fighter jock," she corrected, "an
aerospace jock." She waved her arm, taking in the entire room. "Heck, I
think every pilot here is aerospace qualified."
        Mary and Liz were in a briefing room at Cape Canaveral. Crowded
into the room were a number of other military personel, made up mostly of
either mecha or aerospace pilots. The mecha pilots drove walking tanks.
The aerospace pilots flew aerospace fighters which could reach orbit and
fight there if necessary.
        The mecha pilots like Mary had been training for the past month
on the WarHorse. The WarHorse was a state of the art mecha design just
recently put into full production. It was powered by a portable fusion
reactor, walked on two legs and had roughly twice the firepower of the
older Cockroach.
        "Paul," Mary called, bodily pulling a mecha pilot from the crowd,
"you remember Liz, don't you?"
        "Huh? Oh, I remember you," Paul said, shaking Liz's hand. "You're
Elizabeth Jewelkowski, aren't you?"
        "I remember you, too," Liz replied. "You're the guy who dropped a
can of paint on me at our high school prom."
        Before, Paul could make any excuses that wouldn't be believed,
another aerospace jock walked up. "Hi, Liz," he said. "Who're your
friends." Before Liz could answer, the newcomer took Mary's hand and bent
to kiss it gallantly. "Hello, I'm Jon Anderson..." he began.

        "So, you want us to supply your army with mecha?" Scout unit
Katherine Chives asked.
        "Yep," Anonymech replied, nodding. "I have the one of the
greatest warrior races in all the Multiverse to use them. The technical
specs I gave you should have you building better mecha than any you have
ever dreamed before."
        "They certainly will." She could have been commenting on baking
cookies for all the enthusiasm she showed. "Who are these warriors of
        "Us it is," squeaked the dwarf with Anonymech. "Munchkins we






WHAT WILL...(skirrrcchhhh)


Find out in future episodes of Analogs, only on...


Copyright Notice:
This story is (C)opyright by Nopporn Wongrassamee in 1996. All rights

Send feedback to: NoppornW at

"Sir, we've finished scanning Mitchel 2."
"Any sign of intelligent life?"
Date:         Thu, 4 Apr 1996 01:25:11 -0500
From:         hey jupiter (swede at SOJOURN1.SOJOURN.COM)
Subject:      SF: Renegade Anarchists IV, episode twenty

                            RENEGADE ANARCHISTS IV:
                                 IN AND TONIC
                             (a Tale of Sfstory!)
                                  Episode 20
                                 Gary W. Olson


     "It's quiet," Jerriphrrt said.
     "Too, too quiet," Lyle Hitowers and G.X.P. Varneyloop chorused.
     "Stop that!" Floyd Cobalt ordered.  Lyle and Varneyloop responded by
     "Screaming about it won't help," Jerriphrrt snarled.  "Now let's just
get down this corridor.  We should emerge into the main mall deck, and from
     "We're screaming because Greez Hyperiok is bearing down on us, weapons
drawn," Lyle paused to point out before resuming his stunning scream.
Floyd and Jerriphrrt noticed their observations were correct, and were
provided further proof when the sections of wall just above their heads
were destroyed in an extremely gratuitous fashion.
     "Yaaaaaaa!" Lyle and G.X.P. screamed.
     "Yaaaaaaa!" Jerriphrrt and Floyd joined in.
     "Yaaaaaaa!" Greez, a joiner at heart, added.
     Greez stopped and the five continued screaming at one another for
several minutes.  Four of them had to stop to get drinks from a convenient
nearby water fountain, while the fifth, Lyle, the only one of them trained
in long-duration screaming, kept it going.  They were just about to launch
into the next round when a laser blast interrupted them.
     "Zeeee-pow," said the laser blast.
     "Boom," said the wall.
     "Yaaaaaaa!" a voice that belonged to none yet named screamed.
     "That scream," Lyle mused.  "Can it be..."
     "Daaaaaad!" Kissy Hitowers screamed.
     "Daauuuughhtterrrrr!" Lyle Hitowers screamed.
     "Our ears!" G.X.P, Jerriphrrt, Floyd and Greez exclaimed.
     "Honk!" Lt. Zacko's horn honked.  Lt. Zacko, wielding the horn, made
no exclamation, even as he continued his pursuit of Kissy.  He stopped
quickly when Lyle stepped between him and his daughter.  Zacko immediately
shook his hand and smiled.
     "Who are you?" Lyle asked.
     "He's Zacko," Kissy said.  "I don't know if he's a Space Hero, but he
sure acts like one."
     "So he rescued you from some menace," Jerriphrrt guessed.
     "And ever since then he's been chasing after you because you look
great in a nylon jumpsuit," Lyle deduced.
     "Honk," Zacko's horn went.
     "I'm so proud of you, Kissy!" Lyle exclaimed.  "You've grown into a
fine Space Ingenue!"
     "Um, I don't mean to interrupt this touching moment," G.X.P.
Varneyloop, who apparently had gotten his head into a bit better condition
than it had been before, said.  "But, who fired that laser blast?"
     "Not me," Kissy said.
     Zacko shook his hand.  Lyle noticed he was holding Zacko's leg and
angrily dropped it.
     "Then who...?"
     "Hi there!" a Shadow Puppet image against the far wall called.  "You
all ready to die?"  It hefted a large laser gun and pointed it at them.
Several dozen more Shadow Puppets congregated in the light farther down
the corridor.
     "It's you who will die!" Floyd snarled.  "Right, Greez?"
     "Yeah!" Greez exclaimed.  "Um... wait.  Wasn't I attacking you a
moment ago?"
     "No, not at all," Jerriphrrt told him.  "That was just your way of
letting us know you were really on our side.  And now that we know, you can
attack our enemies for us."
     "Attaaaaaaack!" Greez yelled, firing weapons of mass destruction at
the Shadow Puppets, who had not expected such incredibly violent and
incredibly stupid resistance, and consequently were forced to retreat.
Kissy, Lyle, G.X.P, Jerriphrrt, Floyd, and Zacko charged after Greez.


     Janice Hoffiser continued cursing the Swede as her flesh dissolved,
being rapidly replaced by a mutant leathery substance that bubbled here
and there.  The toxic waste pools of New Jersey were doing something
entirely unwelcome to her cellular structure, something disgusting to her
DNA, and something entirely horrific to her credit rating.  She only hoped
it was doing something worse to her former Author.
     No such luck.  The Swede surfaced next to her, looking like a demented
cross between Don Pardo, the Twinkie Kid, and Uncle Owen's smoldering
corpse in "Star Wars."
     "Hey, guess what?" he asked, entirely too cheerfully.
     "What?" Janice asked.
     "This toxic waste has given me the power of teleportation?" the Swede
told her.  "It's also replaced my internal organs with clam chowder, but
that's not important right now.  We can get out of here!"
     "Can it turn us back into what we were?" Janice asked, hopefully.
     "Nope!  But I can sense where my Plot Generator is, and I can teleport
us somewhere near there."
     "How near is 'somewhere near'?"
     By way of answer, the Swede activated his newfound teleportational
powers, and suddenly the toxic waste pools of New Jersey were replaced by
the vastness of deep space.  Janice saw that a large space station was
right in front of them.  She also noticed that there was no air in the
immediate vicinity, and promptly exploded.
     It was then she found that her skeletal structure and nervous system
had been replaced by what appeared to be an enormous mutant slinkie, so
her assorted body parts flew violently away, then shot violently back,
then away, then back, and so on.  The Swede, meanwhile, did not explode,
though he did start turning a deep shade of blue.  He teleported them
again, and this time, they materialized *in* the space station.
     "Whew!" the Swede exclaimed.  "That was... close."
     "Blooga blooga," Janice tried to say, encountering difficulty
because her lips were bouncing on the floor and her throat was somewhere
around her armpit.
     "Pull yourself together," the Swede said.  "The Plot can't be far
     "Hey, look!" a voice exclaimed.  "Mutant creatures!"
     "They must be agents of Hell(tm)!" another voice added.  "Kill them
before they report back to their leader!"
     "Poopie!" the Swede exclaimed.  He picked up Janice and coiled her
around his arm before running down the corridor, with Kalvin Certain,
Benjen and Gham in hot pursuit.


     Susan B. Anthony fumed.  Her forces were scattered around the ship,
fighting Shadow Puppets or whoever happened to be handy, and they weren't
responding to her attempts to get them to report to the main Mall Level,
where she could give them new orders.
     Moreover, Bagelos had managed to track her down, and was trying once
again to woo her.
     "So you see," he said, "I, Bagelos, really am very evil.  Would you
care to come back to my place to see my plans for universal domination?"
     "No thank you," Susan replied.  "I have to boil my hair in molten lava
     "I, Bagelos, have Streisand tickets," Bagelos said, desperately.
     "Go away, you worm," Susan tried the direct approach.
     "Come on," Bagelos, undeterred, forged on.  "Don't you feel the
connection between us, the botany... um... I, Bagelos, mean... the
     "Chemistry," Susan suggested.
     "That too.  I, Bagelos, mean, surely, two who have worked in such
close proximity for so long have to feel *something* for one another..."
     "I've only known you for a day," Susan pointed out.
     "So..."  Her voice trailed off.  While she found him repugnant, there
was something to his words that was true.  It had been so long since she'd
longed for any such contact with another.  Not since before her death and
her entry into Hell(tm) had....
     Her exposition was rudely interrupted when Ronald Hastings and
Norman Sassafras barreled around the corner and ran into them.
     "Oof!" they exclaimed as they bounced off Susan and fell to the
     "Well, well, well, what have we here?" Susan asked.
     "We're... Starfleet officers," Ronald replied.  "So don't try
anything, got it?"
     "You're what?" Bagelos asked.
     "Starfleet officers," Norman said.  "Unless that makes you want to
beat us up, in which case we're just guys in polyester shirts."
     "That gives me an idea," Susan mused.  "I've got to protect this
station from the Shadoe Armada that's gathering outside, so that the spam
smuggling route to Earth will be safe.  That means I've got to lure the
Shadoes into a trap..."
     "And you want to use these two as bait," Bagelos finished.
"Brilliant!  I, Bagelos, admire your plotting genius!"
     "No, you're the bait," Susan said.  "These two are fodder."
     "Eeep!" Ronald and Norman eeped, as several demons grabbed them and
hauled them to their feet.
     "Eeep!" Bagelos eeped, as he received a similar treatment.  (Actually,
since he was already standing, the demons had to knock him down first.  But
they're good at that, so it went well.)


     "So, we were all able to escape Hell(tm) by crowding into this suit,"
JFK explained.  "Only we can't get out.  So we kind of have to live
together now."
     "Very interesting, strange multi-headed one," Quooth said.  "How is
it you manage to eat?"
     "Well, that's kind of a problem," Nixon admitted.  "In fact, we're
starving.  All this excitement with the Shadoes and the minions of Hell(tm)
and whatnot has been a tremendous distraction."
     "I do not know if there are any places of sustanence nearby," Quooth
said.  "But if it will help, I would gladly play something on my Holy
Harmonica for you."
     "Not to worry," JFK said.  "Say, Miss...?"
     "I'm not a Miss," Meester, who was inhabiting the body of Lisa Bonet,
     "Sorry," JFK added.  "Would you step a bit closer?"
     Meester, his wits dulled by having been in Lisa Bonet's body, did
as she was asked.  Several hands reached out of B'Gosh's coat and yanked
her into B'Gosh's encounter suit.  Quooth shuddered as hideous screams
emerged from the robes.  He quivered as blood spurted out from the collar.
He trembled as various of Lisa Bonet's body parts tumbled onto the floor.
He winced as B'Gosh emitted a satisfied belch.
     "Mmm, that hit the spot," Nixon said.  "Mind if we put our helmet
back on?"
     "N-no," Quooth told them.  B'Gosh put his helmet back on and started
wheezing again.  Behind Quooth, Machiavelli, still in the body of the late
Governor Schlub, moped aimlessly.
     "There," B'Gosh said.  "That'll leave more lines for us.  Now what
say we find some of the others and get the final confrontation on the road,
shall we?"
     "Very well, friend B'Gosh," Quooth said.  Phe, B'Gosh, and
Machiavelli sauntered towards the nearest lift.


The happenings continue to meander aimlessly along in the next...SFSTORY!
Date:         Wed, 10 Apr 1996 23:05:55 -0400
From:         hey jupiter (swede at SOJOURN1.SOJOURN.COM)
Subject:      SF: Renegade Anarchists IV, episode twenty one

                            RENEGADE ANARCHISTS IV:
                                  IN THE SHOW
                             (a Tale of Sfstory!)
                                  Episode 21
                                 Gary W. Olson


     "Hey, Ronald," Norman said, "how many e's in 'Fredonia'?"
     "Two," Ronald replied, authoritatively.
     "Are you sure?"
     "Of course I'm sure!" Ronald exclaimed.  "You're not questioning a
superior officer, are you?"
     "Well, um, yeah," Norman said.  "While I'm at it, how come I have to
do all the work while you stand back and criticize?"
     "Because you're the crew!" Ronald explained, angrily.  "We agreed --
one of us has to be crew, because you can't have a Starship without crew,
and one of us has to be Command, and I called Command first."
     "But I'm tired of being Crew!" Norman protested.  "I want to be
Command now."
     "One more outburst like that and I'll put you in the brig!"
     "What brig?"
     "Never mind that!"  Ronald snarled.  "I'm putting you on trial for
insubordination, questioning a superior officer, tax evasion, and having
spaghetti stains on your uniform."  Norman looked down, but saw no stains.
"Ha!  Made you look!"
     Norman lunged at Ronald, spray can hissing.  Ronald ducked the clumsy
move with an equally clumsy half-dodge, half-stagger, and delivered an
ineffective karate chop against Ronald's side.  The fight continued no
further than that, however, as the electronic collars both were wearing
went off.
     "Bzzzt," said the collars.
     "Aaaagh!" said Ronald and Norman.
     "Ha ha," said a voice from the collar transceivers.
     "Hey," Ronald and Norman whined.
     "Get back to work!" the voice, which the duo recognized as that of
Susan B. Anthony, ordered.  Ronald picked up the dropped spray paint can
and helped Norman to his feet.
     "I'm sorry I yelled at you," Ronald mumbled.
     "I'm sorry I tried to spray paint your uniform red," Norman said.
     "How about, in the spirit of Command-Crew cooperation, I spray paint
this one?"
     Ronald turned to the wall and lifted the can.
     "Okay," he asked.  "How many e's in Fredonia again?"


     "Are we safe?" James Dean asked.
     "That depends on the umpire's call," Captain J. Michael Spaulding
said.  "Maybe if we just chew tobacco and spit once in a while, we'll blend
in.  Or, if we blend spit and chew once in a while, we'll tobacc out."
     "Sssh!" Emma Goldman ssshd.  "I hear something!"
     "If we have to stop every time you hear something, this is going to be
a long scene," Spaulding pointed out.  "Maybe we could just stop when you
hear nothing, or I can stop you from hearing anything?  Do you see what I
hear?  Hold on while I listen for beer."
     "Hey, boss!" Chicobaldi exclaimed as he skidded around the corner,
followed by an out-of-breath Ambassador DePenn and Zeppus Coleslaw.
"There'a you are.  We been'a lookin' all over for you.  You a hard man to
     "Thank you, your raise is in the computer," Spaulding said.  "Was
anyone following you?  If so, report them to medbay for mental
     "Noone's been following us," DePenn reported.
     Everyone waited.
     "Look, there are some jokes even *I* won't do," Spaulding told them.
"Now, everyone to the main Mall level.  That way, we can warn everyone of
the invasion of the Shadow Puppets and the minions of Hell(tm), and drop
off the videos I rented yesterday."
     "Don't'a worry 'bout that, I'a took care of it," Chicobaldi assured
him.  "I also returned'a you audios, you arias, you oratorios and you
     "And I had the perfect battle aria to play for the final combat
sequence," Spaulding said.  "Not to mention the perfect battle oreos to eat
while I was somewhere completely else at the time."
     "Hey," Lenin said.  "The legions of Hell(tm) are headed this way."
     "I hate it when that happens," Spaulding commented, as Hell(tm)fire
struck the walls, causing the group to start rapidly running away.


     "Hang on," B'Gosh said.  "Someone's running this way."
     "But, friend B'Gosh," Quooth protested, "you're walking."  Behind
Quooth, the headless, Machiavelli-possessed body of Governor Schlub tried
to slap his forehead, missed, and ended up pulling a muscle.
     The Swede turned a corner and ran towards the group.  Of those
present, only Machiavelli might have recognized the Swede, having met him
before, but, as was earlier discussed, he isn't talking just now, and
besides, the Swede was hardly looking his old self.
     "Blooga blooga," said a mutant who was clinging to his arm.
     "Yes, Janice, yes," the Swede said.  "I-- ah!  Hello!"
     "Hello, new prospective friend!" Quooth said.  "You seem to be running
from someone."
     "Please excuse him," B'Gosh said.  "He tends to state the obvious."
     "He's right," the Swede said.  "We're being pursued by some people who
think we're horrible mutants in the service of Hell(tm), when we're
actually horrible mutants in the service of ourselves, not that we're
really horrible mutants, I mean, we weren't up until a half hour ago, when
we were plunged into a pool of toxic waste, but--"
     "There he is!" a voice from the corner the Swede had turned yelled.
"Get-- Quooth!"
     "I would not like it if you got me," Quooth replied, petulantly.
     "Quooth, look out!" Gham yelled.  "Those horrible mutants are agents
of Hell(tm)!"
     "Just look at them!" Benjen added.  "It's obvious!"
     "Is it?" Kalvin Certain asked.
     "Count the eye stalks," Benjen replied.
     "Oh, yeah."
     "They say they're not," B'Gosh said.
     "I can find out the truth," Quooth claimed.  He lifted up his Holy
Harmonica and began playing a soul-repelling version of a medley of Bob
Seger tunes, the 'Leave It to Beaver' theme, and a tuba player being
strained through a cheese grater.  When the musical assault continued,
the Swede and Janice's mutations had been undone.
     "Ow," Janice commented.  "I may never listen to a Chevy commercial
     "I may never put a tuba player through a cheese grater again," the
Swede groaned.  "But, hey, it did the trick."
     "Is your power of Edit back?" Janice asked.
     "Not yet," the Swede said.  "But I can feel we're very close to the
Plot Generator."
     "You're an Author?" Quooth asked.
     "Yes," the Swede said.  "But I don't have my Authorial Powers with me
just now, so we have to do this the hard way.  Will you help us?"
     "Of course!" Quooth replied, far too cheerfully.  "I shall aid you
in your quest, confident that it will further my quest as well!"
     "What *is* your quest?" B'Gosh asked.
     Quooth never got a chance to reply, as laser fire ripped through the
walls next to them.  The group took off down the corridor, followed by
a large group of Shadow Puppets.
     "If only the other mes would do something," the Swede commented.


     In the Author's Altiverse, specifically, in the Swede's abode, several
dozen Swedes were hanging out, watching television, listening to the
stereo, drinking beer, or threatening tuba players with cheese graters.
     "Hey," one of them said.  "Want to do something?"
     "Like what?" a Swede next to him asked.
     "I just found this filled-out application for renewal of our Authorial
License," the Swede said.  "You want to run it down to the office and get
it filed?"
     The Swede frowned, looked at the tuba player, and put his cheese
grater down.  He took the application and skipped out of the room.  The
Swede, meanwhile, picked up the cheese grater and advanced on the tuba
player, who was trying to oompah out a message to his comrades to come and
rescue him.


     "That's the last one, I think," Ronald said.  "They'll come running
     "They who?" Norman asked.
     "Ours is not to ask why," Ronald reminded his compatriot.  "Ours is to
figure out what Captain Kirk would do in this situation."
     "Put on thirty-five pounds and join the Hair Club for Men?"
     "Call 911?"
     "Write his memoirs?"
     "Well, maybe, but that's not the answer I'm looking for.  He'd find
some clever way to pick the lock, then defeat the villain and have a role
in the hay with the heroine."
     "There's a problem with that," Norman noted.  "Namely, there's two of
     "Maybe the heroine will have a sister," Ronald mused.  "I--yaaaa!"
     A horde of Shadow Puppets rounded the corner, trampling over Ronald
and Norman as they passed.  Groggily, Ronald and Norman sat up, only to be
again tramped by Greez Hyperiok as he charged by, weapons blazing.
     Someone loomed over Ronald's hazy vision, which gradually cleared.
Ronald's eyes bugged out, when he saw how good that someone looked in a
nylon jumpsuit.
     "You must be the heroine," he muttered.
     "No, I'm the Ingenue, dickweed," Kissy Hitowers said.
     "No matter," Norman said.  "You have a sister?"
     "Stand up, both of you," another voice instructed.  They were helped
to their feet by G.X.P. Varneyloop and Jerriphrrt.  "Did you see Greez
Hyperiok and a bunch of Shadow Puppets run through here?" the voice, which
belonged to Floyd Cobalt, asked.
     "That way," Ronald said, pointing the way they had gone.
     "I...hey," Lark said.  "What's this say?"  He looked at the words that
had been spray-painted on the wall, which read:

                    "ATTENTION SHADOW PUPPETS:
                     This way to find the key to
                     ruling Freeeeeeeeeedonia 5. ----)"

     "We were forced by Susan B. Anthony to paint these messages," Norman
explained.  "These collars give us electrical shocks when we stray from
our tasks for too long.  She's trying to set a trap for them, you see...."
     "What collars?" Lyle Hitowers asked.
     "Those--oh," Ronald said.  "Getting trampled must have knocked them
     "We're chasing after the bad guys," Jerriphrrt said.  "We could use
some help."
     "We're ready!" Ronald and Norman exclaimed.
     "Can we have phasers?" Norman asked.
     "We'll see," Jerriphrrt replied.  Zacko honked his horn.


     "Bagelos!" Sajon of the now-destroyed Coffee Command exclaimed.
     "Sajon!" Bagelos exclaimed.  "Stand where you are!"
     "Or what?" Professor Parsasentence asked.  "You're going nowhere!"
     This was true.  Bagelos was suspended on a platform, tied up with
enough rope to fill the needs of the third world for up to three years,
more if you count the knot.  There were numerous signs inviting the Shadow
Puppets to walk right up the ramp to where Bagelos was dangling, which was
right under a very large and somewhat suspicious sixteen-ton weight.
     "Hold it right there!" Susan B. Anthony commanded.  Suddenly, the
group was surrounded by hundreds of demonic soldiers, weapons at the ready.
     "Don't mind us," Chatsia Slacks said.  "We're"
     "Tourists!" Quirk interjected.
     "I'm going to go cut the rope holding the weight while Sajon's
standing under it," TH1K1 said.  A blast of Hell(tm)fire dissuaded him from
flying higher.  BRENDA hovered where she was.
     "We're expecting visitors at any moment," Susan said.  "Soldiers!
Destroy these interlop--"
     "Stop right there!" Captain Spaulding yelled.  "And if anyone adds
'in the name of love,' you're fired.  Or promoted, if we don't have to pay
     Captain Spaulding, James Dean, Emma Goldman, Lenin, Zeppus Coleslaw,
Ambassador DePenn, and Security Chief Chicobaldi emerged onto the large,
spacious, can-easily-house-a-huge-horking-melee Main Mall Floor.  They
almost collided with Steve Vogel, Cardinal Van Cleef, Cardinal Hagen,
Thelona Wyndingrode, Lark Purree, Mapa Marbles, and Pope Joe Don I as they
spilled out of a turbolift.  Twenty meters later, they were again nearly
run down when Ambassador B'Gosh, Machiavelli/Schlub, Quooth, Gham, Kalvin
Certain, Benjen, the Swede and Janice Hoffiser emerged from a side entrance
that had been cleverly disguised as an enormous banana tree.  This left
them in no condition to dodge when Greez Hyperiok, Kissy Hitowers, Lt.
Zacko, Floyd Cobalt, Jerriphrrt, Lyle Hitowers, G.X.P. Varneyloop, Ronald
Hastings and Norman Sassafras popped out of an Applebee's, chasing a large
group of Shadow Puppets, who were soon joined by the various Shadow Puppets
and minions of Hell(tm) that had been chasing our characters and one
     "Okay, everybody don't move..." Susan suggested.
     "Too late," Spaulding said.  "I'll forward my address, though.
Address me as Captain.  Or as 'Buttercup,' if you like.  I know I do."
     "Well, well, well," Sajanseel Boudoir said, as he walked onto the
floor from a secret entrance, flanked by Logan (in Meester's body),
Spaulding's Duck, and Steve the Shadoe.  "Looks like everyone's here.
Guess we can have the huge final battle now."
     "We're forgetting someone," Jerriphrrt said, looking around.
     "Well, Zark Flyby couldn't make it," Steve Shadoe noted.  "He's still
on my homeworld, Za'ha'tra'la'la'la'la'etc'etc."
     "Which is where you were not an hour ago," Logan pointed out.
     "Your point?"
     "Did you remember to switch the transport gate you used to get from
there to here off?"
     BOOM! a flower shop went up in flames.
     "Death!!!" yelled Zark Flyby as he stomped onto the floor.
     "I guess not," Steve the Shadoe said, looking vaguely embarrassed.
     "I still say we're missing someone," Jerriphrrt mumbled, as everyone
moved toward beginning the combat sequence.


The answers to some of these questions is next on a very violent...
Date:         Fri, 12 Apr 1996 16:08:59 -0400
From:         Nopporn Wongrassamee (NoppornW at AOL.COM)
Subject:      SG/SF/MW/WW: Analogs #11

        "Hi, Mary."
        "Oh, morning, Vicky," Mary Sinclair, unemployed Muse looking for
an Authorof her own, replied to the employed Muse who had just walked
into the lobby of Mademoiselle Muse Inc. "What can I do for you today?"
Not having an Author, Mary was working the front desk at MM, today. It
had been a slow day so far; Mary had gone and decided to read some of the
more recent Superguy logs.
        "I'm here to pick up my paychecks," Vicky replied.
        "Oh, of course," Mary said. She pulled a box from under the
counter. "Here they are. Say, how come you get lots of checks while
everyone else only gets one?"
        "Hmm?" Vicky said as she counted through the checks. "Apparently
it's because I have so many clone bodies that I use at the same time.
MM's computers apparently think I'm more than one person so it issues
checks to ALL my selves."
        "Wierd," Mary commented shaking her head. She turned back to the
computer, and called up the next post, one written by Vicky's Author. She
couldn't quite believe what she read. She reread it. Then she called up
other episodes in that series. Finally she turned back to Vicky. "Vicky?"
        "Something wrong?" Vicky asked, noticing a tremor in Mary's
        Mary turned the monitor so that Vicky could see it. "What the
Hell(tm) is THIS?!" she demanded, pointing at the monitor which read...

                  Overly Bar-B-Cued Authorial Productions

    \    /    ####  ##  ##  ####  ##     ####   #####  #####   \    /
     \  /    ##  ## ### ## ##  ## ##    ##  ## ##     ##        \  /
  --- () --- ###### ###### ###### ##    ##  ## ## ###  ####  --- () ---
     /  \    ##  ## ## ### ##  ## ##    ##  ## ##  ##     ##    /  \
    /    \   ##  ## ##  ## ##  ## #####  ####   ##### #####    /    \

                                Episode #11
                               "Phone calls,
                              and technobabble,
                               and interviews,
                               and briefings,
                                  oh my!"

                          by Nopporn Wongrassamee
                              the Evil Author

                        with Technical advice from
               Gary "the Recently Unmutated Swede" Olson

        (BRRRII*click*) "Hello?"
        "Mary? Thank the Authors! Where have you been?"
        "Out of continuity apparently."
        "Er, never mind. Mom, Paul tells me that you've, ah, gone nuts."
        "What? Mary, listen to me. Paul is dangerous, psychotic, crazy.
Hell(tm), he isn't Paul anymore!"
        "Uh, what makes you say that?"
        "He tried to kill me! If it weren't for his counterpart from
another altiverse, I'd be dead now. Mary, whatever you do, do NOT go near
him again. Mary?"
        "Mom, are you feeling all right?"
        "Yes, dammit. Mary, listen; Paul's magic originates from his
counterpart's altiverse. He's been possessed by some kind of demonic
computer program and..."
        "What is it, Mary?"
        "Paul's right. You really have gone off the deep end." (clik)
        "Mary? Mary! Don't hang up..." (bzzzzzzz...)

        "Are you real?" Mary asked as she and Bane circled each other,
their weapons in their en garde positions. Bane struck with his staff,
and Mary parried with her Lite Epee.
        "Am I?" Bane asked conversationally when the action lulled and
they resumed circling. "You know quantum mechanics as well as anyone.
What's the Illuminati's interpretation?" He blocked feint and probe from
Mary effortlessly.
        Mary frowned. "I've never heard of any 'Illuminati'," she
replied, blocking a counterstroke.
        "Hmm, I've got my altiverses mixed up, then," Bane mused aloud as
he furiously blocked a slew of slashing attacks from Mary. She was pretty
good even with only a month of training. "Anyway," he continued when Mary
backed off, "we live in an observer's multiverse. Observers are any
entities capable of perception. You. Me. Transcendents. Authors. Readers.
The bloody Sage, even. When we observe..."
        "We collapse a set of possibilities into a single present," Mary
concluded, remembering Bor's interpretation of quantum mechanics. She
just barely blocked several thrusts on Bane's part.
        "Right. Most observers have only a crude control over which
possibility becomes reality mostly by planning for the more likely ones,"
Bane said. "On the other hand, some observers have the ability to dictate
which possibilities come about by just willing it. This place we're in is
like that. It examines those who enter it and brings about the
possibility" of confronting their greatest dangers. Usually, this is the
subject's greatest fear, but in your case..."
        Mary frowned. "Why are you my greatest...urk!" Mary was suddenly
cut off when a thrust from Bane slipped past her guard. The sharp tip
buried itself in her abdomen. The gemstone set in the other end pulsed a
purple light.
        The world exploded in a flash of golden light.

        "So, what do you think of our family?" Wolfgang Baines asked.
        "I feel like I just stepped into an episode of the Munsters or
something," Mary replied as she watched several children of the Baines
family at play. Two would be lycanthropes similar to Wolfgang, one was a
up and coming mage, one a faerie changeling, and several seemed perfectly
        "I was thinking of the Addams Family, myself," Hazel the cat
        "Yeah, we get those comparisons alot," Wolfgang chuckled.
"Especially from visitors."
        "You get many visitors?"
        Wolfgang shrugged. "Mostly relatives who don't live on the
        "Oh, I see." Suddenly, Mary gasped and doubled over.
        "Whoa!" Wolfgang exclaimed, "are you all right, Mary?"
        "I'm fine," Mary said quickly. "Just a twinge. It's gone now."
        "Are you sure..." Hazel began.
        "Mary Sinclair?" Patricia Baines said as she materialized next to
them. "My husband will see you now."
        "Great!" Hazel said, getting up on all fours.
        "No, not you," Patricia told Hazel firmly. "Just Mary and ONLY
Mary." Hazel straightened up indignantly.
        "That's all right Hazel," Mary said reassuringly. "I'll be fine."
She hoped.
        "This way," Patricia said curtly. Mary followed Patricia to
Lazarus Baines' study. Patricia didn't pull any tricks like walking
through walls, so they reached the study without incident. Patricia
motioned for Mary to enter. Mary went in but Patricia did not.
        "Uh, hello?" Mary said to the dimly lit man in the study.
        "Greeting, Miss Sinclair," the man said. "I am Lazarus Baines,
head of this Family." He was a handsome gentleman, appearing to be in his
mid thirties, bearing a striking resemblance to Paul. But he was older
than that. Much older. Lazarus Baines was a Vampire after all.
        "So, what did you want to see me about?" Mary asked steadily. She
tried to keep her paranoia under control. THIS vampire was not going to
suck her dry, she reasoned. Why go to all the trouble of summoning her if
only for a snack?
        He turned and stared her in the eye. "I am concerned about Paul,"
he began as Mary's face went slowly blank. "I am curious as to where he
has disappeared to." He studied Mary for a moment. "Sit."
        Mary sat.

        "Ten 'Hut!"
        Everyone in the room went to attention as Colonel Wulf entered
the room. He went to the podium and tossed it aside. "Be seated," he said
gruffly. Everyone sat.
        Behind Wulf, the projection screen flickered to life. An image of
a familiar red planet appeared. Mars. "Ladies and Gentleman, this is our
objective," Wulf began. "Our mission is to secure a beachhead on Mars and
to scout out the opposition. In twentyfour hours, we will be on our way
and giving the Martians the scare of their lives." The picture changed,
focusing on a white, lumpy asteroid. "This is Deimos, the outer moon of
Mars. Over the past several years, probes to Mars have been accompanied
by robot cargo haulers carrying supplies we'll be needing. Rations.
Ammunition. Spare parts. They've been all stashed on this little chunk of
rock. Questions? Yes, you?"
        "I take it we'll be hauling our fighters and mecha with us?" a
soldier asked.
        "That's right," Wulf answered. "We wanted to be sure to have the
best gear Earth has to offer for this mission. You."
        "Sir, how are we going to get there?" another soldier asked. "If
I recall, it'll take us a year to Mars. Do we have enough fuel and
supplies for the voyage? And our mecha. Do we have enough space and room
for it on our ship?"
        "I'm glad you asked that, Private," Wulf replied. The picture
behind him changed to a spindly looking structure in Earth orbit. "This
is our ship, people, the ESS Enterprise. It is the first Earth built
spaceship with a working fusion reactor integrated into drive system.
With this baby, we can be in Mars orbit in a week." Wulf chuckled. "But
it's not going to take a week. We've made an agreement with the CAFFEDAB.
They'll have us in Mars orbit in a day!"
        "Er, who?" someone asked.
        "The CAFFEDAB," Wulf repeated. "They're from Saturn and are
perhaps the oldest space farers in the solar system. We've made a deal
with them. In exchange for some refined metals, they'll taxi us to Mars."

        "Elvis! This place is a mess," Mary exclaimed when she saw the
Evil Author's bedroom. Indeed, clothing littered the floor in discreet
piles. The bed was unmade. Piles of paper decorated every flat surface
above floor level. Dust collected on every surface.
        When Mary got off duty at Mademoiselle Muse, Vicky had invited
her over to the Castle o' Doom to look over the Evil Author's notes on
the Analogs series. The Evil Author, last seen falling into a black hole
by Vicky, was in no position to object. Of course, seeing what a mess the
Evil Author's room was in, finding ANYTHING was next to impossible.
        "Yep," one of the Vickies with Mary replied. "The Evil Author
doesn't like anyone to clean up in here."
        "It's gonna take some looking to find those notes," added the
other Vicky as she began rooting through a random pile. "Assuming they
        "Huh?" Mary said brilliantly, flipping through a copy of the
Space Quest 6 hint book.
        A third Vicky entered and went to the computer and switched it
on. "The Evil Author has a tendency to write stories straight from his
head without writing down notes," Vicky said as the Windows '95 logo
appeared. "On occaision, he does write somethings down. It'll take us a
while though."
        "Oh." Mary thought about then decided to change the subject.
"Say, Vicky..."
        "Yeah?" came the three part chorus. Mary flinched.
        "Isn't there another resident here in the Castle?" Mary asked.
"Burt Ward, wasn't it?"
        "Oh, him," the nearest Vicky replied as she flipped through a
sketch book. "He apparently moved in with the mutants in the catacombs.
Well, at least until some other Author wants to use him in their next AA
post, anyway. Why? You want to be his Muse?"
        Mary shuddered. "Elvis, no!" Mary replied emphatically. "I want
an Author, but I'm not THAT desperate!"

        The Symphony o' Doom approached the planet Shtickobwaha where the
Interloper had read Mary was in episode 10. This time nothing would stop
him from taking Mary.
        "Boss!" explaimed the science officer, Data (pronounced with the
short a, not the long). "We have multiple bogies approaching from our aft
arc! They appear to be Veritech/Starfury hybrids."
        "Yeah, so?" the Interloper asked her (yes, her). "Just blow them
        "But according to the sensors, they've got Edit Tech, too," Data
        "What?!" the Interloper exclaimed. As far as he knew, only the
Evil Author and his spinoff personalities had Edit Tech.
        Wait a minute...
        "Incoming hail from unknowns, Boss!" shouted the comm officer,
        "Hey, dude," came a voice over the radio. "What's happenin'?"
        "Anonymech," the Interloper ground out.

        "Well?" Sissyphus U. Lucky Jones asked.
        "All your teams are on their way, sir," his still nameless
secretary replied. "We're the last ones."
        "Terrific! Soon, we'll have at least ONE Mary," Sissyphus
laughed. "Alright, let's get this show on the road!"
        "One more thing, sir," the secretary added. "If we lose this
Heck Cruiser, we won't be able to afford another without going to your
        "Yeah, yeah," Sissyphus said with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"That isn't going to happen." He pressed the Button and the new Heck
Cruiser jumped into 000SFSTORY...
        ...and immediately shook like a tuning fork.
        "What's going on?!" Sissyphus demanded.
        "Sir! We've just jumped into the middle of a large scale battle!"
a generic extra reported. On the decorative viewscreen, a positively
HUGE grand piano fought swarms of smaller fighters and ships.
        "Oh, Heck," Sissyphus grumbled as the Heck Cruiser took a hit and
nosedived toward the nearby planet.








See the future episodes of Analogs to find out, only on...



Copyright Notice:
This story is (C)opyright by Nopporn Wongrassamee in 1996. All rights

Send feedback to: NoppornW at

"Sir, we've finished scanning Mitchel 2."
"Any sign of intelligent life?"
Main Sfstory Page     Previous Log     Next Log     Index for Logs 061-090