Sfstory Log 001

=========================================================================
Appended 21:51:59 on 01/19/87 by :

       I  Want  to  start  this new  topic  for  people,   who  are
       interested  in  writing  AND and  reading  Science  Fiction.
       Everybody is  invited to continue this story. This is  not a
       project like  the Dargon projekt  on FSFNET,   where several
       storys refer to Dargon.  This should  be only one story.  Be
       sure to get always the latest copy  of this file if you want
       to continue.  This  will help to avoid several  lines of the
       story.
       I hope there  are a lot of  people around the net,   who are
       interested and I am looking forward to your submissions.

       Here is the beginning of the story :

       Three men  are waiting  in their   spaceship for  the start.
       Nobody knows if  it will work or  if they will be  dead in a
       few hours.  It is the first attemt of an intersellar voyage.
       First they  will fly a  few hours  away from earth  and will
       then make the first jump to reach the stars ...

       Now it is your turn to continue.

***** Notice created 21:51 on Mon, 01/19/87 by I7050408 at DBSTU1   # 001 *****
=========================================================================
Appended 15:01:31 on 01/24/87 by  Jeff Smith:

 ...when suddenly the Giant Space Weasel of Anthrax V leaps out from
behind the crate of instant tuna and grabs the multi-channel combined
cod-fish defroster and astrogation computer, making the spaceship go off
course and crash into the middle of New York, killing millions and
eventually catapulting the technology of mankind back 50,000 years,
which leads to the demoralization and loss of spirit for the entire
race of Homo Sapiens, which consequently dies out within two generations.

Now it is your turn to continue.

***** Entry appended 15:01 on Sat, 01/24/87 by RPS385   at MAINE    # 002 *****
=========================================================================
Appended 15:30:52 on 01/24/87 by  Bruce Pennypacker:

  Rader suddenly sat up in her bed.  It was the fourth time this week that she
had had this strange nightmare.
  The dream was always the same.  First, she watched as her twin brother Steve
boarded the ship with the two other test pilots/astrunauts.  She then went to
the vewing room where she could see the inside of the of the ship and Mission
Control on the lifesize viewing screens.  Just as the countdown reached the
two minute mark everything went bezerk.
  Something that looked like a reject from a prehistoric cartoon jumped out
from the galley, holding what looked like a toy ray gun.  As he approached the
three startled astronauts everything went fuzzy in Raders head.  She vaguely
remembered something about New York City being destroyed when the ship lost
control and plunged out of orbit and towards Earth.  But after that, everything
went blank.
  She lay back down in her bed, which was soaked with sweat, and promised
herself that she would do something about these wierd dreams in the morning.


        Next ...

***** Entry appended 15:30 on Sat, 01/24/87 by 90_PENNY at UNION    # 003 *****
=========================================================================
Appended 21:51:29 on 01/25/87 by  Ronald Meldrum:

DAY 1:
     Striking the System Test key, Steve powered up the pre-
lift  off examination  routine,  and  streams  of words  and
numbers began scrolling down the CRT.   He verified each bit
of information with the set of  codes he had memorized after
months of training for the  mission.   The ion drive,  which
would propel the  ballistic ship at just below  the speed of
light,  checked fine.   The astronaut entered a code using a
nearby keypad,  then the  small,  utilitarian display screen
cleared and,  as the guidance system test routine commenced,
data again scrolled down the screen.
     Looking up from the CRT,  Steve saw a dark-haired woman
enter the maintenance lab he was in.
     "Captain Vogel, all portals are secure," she said.
     Steve nodded, then replied,
     "Very well,  Lieutenant  Madison,  as soon as  the pre-
launch test routines are finished, have Lieutenant Nachtwald
notify mission control that we are ready for liftoff."
     "Yes sir." The  woman turned and left  through the same
door she had entered, and Steve Vogel returned his attention
to the display he had temporarily frozen.  In twenty minutes
the  three person  crew  would embark  on  the  voyage of  a
lifetime.   Four light years away was the double star system
of Alpha Centauri,   waiting in the black pool  of space for
the first people of Earth who were about to seek it out.
     All systems  were verified  as functional.    The three
crew members, Steve,  Linda Madison,  and Wilhelm Nachtwald,
sat anxiously on the main bridge, buckled in their chairs in
take-off  position.    Mission control  was  just  finishing
testing their own communications and tracking systems.
     "Launch in  five minutes," came  a crystal  clear voice
from the communication panel located  under the huge viewing
screen that stood at the front of the bridge.   Steve heaved
a nervous sigh, then initiated the final computer controlled
safety test of the vessel's  primary systems.   Four minutes
later the  green "All is  well" signal flashed.    The crisp
voice again glided out of the comm panel,
     "This is MCO 07.  Commence lift off procedure."
     Each crewmember began their  assigned tasks,  preparing
the spaceship Challenger  II for its big  moment.  A digital
display appeared  in the top,   right corner of  the viewing
screen and began  counting away the seconds.    Soon it read
00:00.
     Vibrations  rumbled through  the  metal  vessel as  its
liquid oxygen engines fired  up.   Due to some  deadly side-
effects,  the  ion propulsion  could not  be used  until the
craft had cleared the  planet's atmosphere.   The Challenger
II leapt from its pad and streaked up into the sky, the city
of Tel Aviv and its launch pad falling away behind.  The sky
above,  displayed on the viewscreen,  grew darker and darker
as the craft approached the  outer limits of the atmosphere.
It soon became totally black.
     "Engage ion  propulsion," Steve said,  both  relief and
excitement straining his voice.
     "Aye  Captain,"  Linda replied.    Her  fingers  glided
proficiently  across  a  keyboard and  then  flicked  a  few
switches,  and the  numbing vibrations of the  rocket engine
were  replaced with  the smooth  hum  and whine  of the  ion
propulsion system.  "Switch-over completed and successful."
      The crew unfastenned the many belts and straps holding
their bodies into launch safety position, and leaned back in
the comfortable chairs.   Lieutenant Nachtwald initiated the
post-atmospheric guidance program.
     "Mission Control,  we are on our way!" the captain said
with a smile.

***** Entry appended 21:51 on Sun, 01/25/87 by IO60048  at MAINE    # 004 *****
=========================================================================
Appended 17:08:46 on 01/30/87 by  Jeff Smith:

    ..when suddenly a small Frisbee-shaped spaceship appears off to the
starboard side of the ship. With a crackle of static on their radio,
the crew of the Challenger II becomes suddenly alert.
    "Attention diseased Earthling pigs!", the mysterious yet
outrageously accented voice proclaimed, "You have eaten our aardvark
and Benny Goodman sponge-rubber is Seven-Eleven."
    The startled faces of the crew slowly became white as they realized
what this cryptic message from space meant.
    "We have Elvis Presley's brain, but you sometimes spam our face.
one gives someone three minutes or we buy a vowel!!!", screamed the
now hysterical voice from the intercom.
    Captain Spim turned to Linda Madison with a look of amused
incredulity.  Someone belched quietly.
    "Do you think all aliens are this stupid?", he asked.
    Linda's fingers flew over the keyboard of her computer which
prompty spit out it's disk, sending it flying across the room.
    "The computer seems to be being jammed.", she said as the video
screen filled with strings of meaningless phrases such as "SDI is a
barganing chip." and "God will call Oral Roberts home."
    The speaker crackled again as the bizarre aliens once again
tried to establish contact with the earth ship.
    "Attention line-backers! We have sponged the fluff of our penguin,
but model home is far from green. Gall bladder in us then or us
shall run home their hula-hoop man!", said the mysterious voice.
    "Full retro-thrust!", yelled the courageous Steve Spim, as
Linda wet her pants.
    "Full retro-thrust engaged.", screamed Wilhelm as the retro-rockets
kicked in.
    "Why are you guys yelling?", asked Linda as she removed her
jump-suit and reached for a change.
    "Oh sorry.", said Steve.

    Meanwhile, back on the mysterious alien ship, strange things were
afoot.
    "Ghzzbxbc kjdsyrr fhfh?", said one alien to the other.
    "Huemc dhjfmiix. Hdor, msuryr dhfdiue fyweh siruirn sj.", came
the cryptic reply.
     (Roughly translated this means "Where are my snack crackers?" "How
should I know. Maybe you should ask your wife." )
    But suddely the exact spatial location of the snack crackers in
question ceased to matter any more. With a slient explosion, the
Frisbee-ship was engulfed in radioactive plasma, which expanded
quickly through space.  Within seconds, this super-hot cloud of
expanding debris touched the surface of the Challanger II, reducing it
and it's contents to a similar cloud of radioactive particles.
    A communal shout was raised on the Earth's surface.
    "This must be another dream like Rader had!", came the shout.
    But everyone piched themselves and each other, and it hurt, proving
that *this* was not a dream, it was reality, and the ship, it's
crew, and the saltine-loving occupants of the alien vessel were all
now meerely a cloud of charged particles.  With this brain-crushing
realization, another communal shout was raised.
    "Oh no! This isn't a dream! It has now been conclusively
proven that *this* is real and it isn't a dream and that the Challanger
II and it's crew are all so much space-dust. Oh no! I wish this was
a dream but it isn't and it can't be!", came the shout.

***** Entry appended 17:08 on Fri, 01/30/87 by RPS385   at MAINE    # 005 *****
=========================================================================
Appended 16:51:32 on 02/01/87 by  Jeff Smith:

    Meanwhile back on Earth...

    Doctor Von Spleen looked accusingly at his cat, which was calmly
licking itself clean in the corner. He wondered just how much pain
one could inflict on a cat before he died. Being a scientist, he
decided to find out. But before he could make a step toward the clever
animal, it had leaped out the window onto the lawn, seeking to escape.
Unfortunatly for the frightened feline, the lawn to which it had lept
was over 12 stories below.
    "Meeeeeoooowww!", said the cat.
    "Thwap.", said the cat seconds later at it drove itself into the
pavement.
    "Oh well. So much for that evil shit.", said the Doctor as he did a
little dance of mourning.
    After he had recovered from his grief, Doctor Von Spleen turned
back to his work.

    For the past two years of his life, Doctor Von Spleen had been
working on a revolutionary machine that would change the lives of
all who used it. He had invented the Automatic Beet Peeler and Sub-
-Atomicl Re-Integrator. Yes, this machine would not only peel your
beets to a smooth even purple, but it would also alter their sub-
-aomic structuture and change it into any element you wished. Obviously,
it was most wanted for it's latter function. In fact, Doctor Von Spleen
would have done away with the Beet Peeling thing altogehter, but
unfortunatly, the Sub-Atomic re-integrating effect would not work on
beets with peels on them.
    Right now, however, Doctor Bing Von Spleen was testing the
machine with a new and highly reactive substance. He felt that if
he could transform this incredibly volitile material, he could not
only clean up the world's toxic waste, but also clean out his
kitchen  refrigerator, because this mystery compound was none other
than Spam, Satan's nosh.

       ********************************************************
       * Gargavix  Ooolavant's Pocket Guide to the Space-Time *
       * Continium notes that Spam is in fact one of the most *
       * dangerous, reactive, and oddly named  substances in  *
       * the entire Space-Time continium. In fact, because of *
       * it's amazing space warping capabilities, it has been *
       * proposed to the Universal Leigon of  Scientists many *
       * times that they should  formally change  the name of *
       * the  Space-Time  continium  to  the  Space-Time-Spam *
       * continium. But, of course, this  proposal has always *
       * been rejected  because of it's  absolute  absurdity. *
       ********************************************************

    Doctor Von Spleen carefully inserted the ball of frozen Spam
into the peeling spindles. He checked the Inter-Nucleic Flux
readings, and turned the Intensity dial up to 8.7. He stepped behind
the protective shield, and flicked the activate switch. With a
sinister hum, the machine powered up. A strange vibration bagan to
prevade the room, but before Doctor Von Spleen could press the
System Abort button, his machine, the spam, his lab, and himself were
suddenly sucked through a newly created rip in the fabric of Space-
Time.
    "Rip.", said the fabric of Space-Time.
    "Ahhhhhh!", said Doctor Von Spleen


What will happen to the friendly doctor?
What will happen to his dead cat?
What will happen if Oral Roberts doesn't get his money?
What will happen if Oral Roberts does get his money?

To find the answers to these and other unrelated questions, stay
tuned for the next episode of Sf-Story!!!

***** Entry appended 16:51 on Sun, 02/01/87 by RPS385   at MAINE    # 006 *****
=========================================================================
Appended 15:12:21 on 02/02/87 by  :

     The rip in the space-time continuum closed with an audible creak.
     "Crreeaakk!!"
     A shock wave of elementary particles streaked away from the site,
traveling backwards through time as it surged outward.
     The wave passed by a cat, which was passing by the 10th floor. The twist
in space pushed the doomed feline towards the building where it collapsed,
stunned by unhurt in the flowerbed of Mrs. Murgletroid, apartment 935.
     The aging widow investigated the thud. "Oh, you poor thing!" she
exclaimed. She picked the cat up and carried it into her living room where they
both lived happily for years to come.


     Meanwhile.....  150 miles up and a little while before, a frisbee shaped
alien space ship was being engulfed in radioactive plasma. The cloud spread
quickly, until it was only seconds from the hull of Challenger II.

     Just then, the shock wave shouldered it's way between the ship and the
cloud. The cloud twisted and churned, but was unable to touch the hull.

     The few extra seconds were all the crew needed.
     "Screw New York! Punch it Chewie!" Steve yelled.
     Wilhelm lifted the safety cover and punched down on the FTL activation
switch.
     With an implosion in the vacuum, Challenger II translated over 4 light-
years.
     Near Earth, the energy equalization caused a brilliant fireball which gave
every exposed New Yorker, a winters tan.

     Challenger II reappeared, shoving aside a few pesky molecules. The crew
cheered as the double suns of Alpha Centuri glowed warmly on the viewscreen.

NEXT.....................

***** Entry appended 15:12 on Mon, 02/02/87 by RLW352C  at MAINE    # 007 *****
=========================================================================
Appended 13:12:08 on 02/14/87 by  Jeff Smith:

...which, being hit by the wave of space-time continium disturbance,
promptly exploded, reducing the Challanger II and it's entire bewildered
crew to nothing but a peice of radioactive space-debris.

***** Entry appended 13:12 on Sat, 02/14/87 by RPS385   at MAINE    # 008 *****
=========================================================================
Appended 11:37:52 on 02/19/87 by  :

   The wave of disturbance ebbed and swirled, mysteriously recombining
the particles of radio-active space dust which had been Challenger II
and crew.

   "Damn it. That's enough" yelled the captain as soon as his larynx
solidified. "The next damn thing that tries to blow us up is going to
get a Photon-Plasma Torp right between the eyes."

   The crew cheered it's approval. "Lieutenant Madison, please set a
course for the first target on the investigation list."

   "Right Captain." Linda paused while she checked the computer displays.
"Mains on line, acceleration at 1g, ETA 36 hours."


Stay tuned for the next (and hopefully serious) installment.

***** Entry appended 11:37 on Thu, 02/19/87 by RLW352   at MAINE    # 009 *****
=========================================================================
Appended 15:24:33 on 02/22/87 by  Jeff Smith:

    At the same time as Challenger II was evaporating, a small,
sleek star-ship was crusing through the exosphere of a small, dirty,
blue-green planet called Earth.
    As it zipped around the globe, it cleverly evaded the advanced radar
detection systems of several countries, slipped by a heat-detecting
spy satellite, and quickly evaded detection by several multi-billion
dollar radio telescopes. But unfortunatly, just as it was about to
release it's message pod, which would have brought an end to disease,
suffering, and unhappiness to the oppressed people of Earth, the same
freak  rip in the space-time continium that swallowed Doctor Von Spleen,
also swallowed the ship and it's message of good-will. As soon as the rip
appeared, it disappered.

    "Where the hell am I?", screamed Doctor Von Spleen soundlessly.
    "Nether-Space.", said a soft voice, also soundlessly.
    "What was that?", asked the Doctor.
    "I am the Giant Space Weasel of Anthrax V."
    "Oh no! I am going to be eaten alive!", screamed the Doctor, trying
to run. This pitiful attempt failed miserably, mainly because he did not
exsist at this particular moment, and therefore didn't have any legs.
    "No, no. Calm down. I'm not really evil.  I just get bad press.",
said the Space Weasel.
    This only calmed Doctor Von Spleen down marginally, but he still had
the courage to speak.
    "How do we get out of here?", he asked.
    "Through that door over there.", said the Weasel, pointing to a
large green wooden door, labeled in large letters saying 'EXIT'.
    "How come I didn't notice it before?", asked the Doctor.
    "It just blends in with the surroundings.", said the Weasel, as he
wandered off into the more pleasent reaches of Nether-Space.
    "Here goes nothing.", said the Doctor as he opened the door and
stepped out.

    Creeeeaaaaakkkk...
    SLAM!

    Doctor Von Spleen looked catiously around him. This, unfortunatly,
did no good at all, because it was absolutly dark. Reasoning this
anamoly out, he concluded that this strange condition was due to the
absence of photons, i.e. the lack of light. He reached into the pocket
of his lab-jacket. He pulled out a small pen-light, and turned it
on, which didn't help.
    "Damn batteries must be dead.", muttered the Doctor.
    He tossed the flashlight into the darkness, where it crashed loudly
against something glass.
    The Doctor reached up to rub his eyes, and discovered not the
familiar bloodshot orbs he had been born with, but instead two slightly
convex pieces of glass. With sudden horror he clawed desperatly at
them, knocking them to the floor, and in a soundless explosion of
light, he could see!
    He looked at his feet where the glass pieces had fallen, and lying
there were a pair of rather ugly Italian sunglasses, all bright red
and with little sparkly bits at the edges. Being the tasteful man he was,
and having some respect for the universe, he put the sunglasses out
of thier misery with his foot.
    Having done this selfless favor for mankind, he looked around the
room he was in. It was a small room, spartanly furnished with one
table, one chair, and a large broken mirror on the far wall. A lit
flashlight was lying in the broken shards of glass. He picked it up
and opened the door on the right-hand wall.
    "Oh my God!", gasped Doctor Von Spleen.

What did the Fearless Doctor see?
What didn't he see?
What will it take to destroy the Challanger II?
What is meaning of life?

These questions and more will remain unanswered in the next edition of
SFSTORY CSNOTICE!!

***** Entry appended 15:24 on Sun, 02/22/87 by RPS385   at MAINE    # 010 *****
=========================================================================
Appended 20:37:05 on 03/09/87 by  :

   The Doctor gazed into the lecture room in which he was scheduled to
speak at this month's meeting of the New York chapter of the Inter-
University Consortium for the Study of Spam and It's Applications,
which was coincidentally in progress at this moment.
   He had nearly forgotten!
   A pretty female grad student was in fact just now introducing him.
Dr. Von Spleen smoothed his hair in a mirror shard on the floor, and
stepped into the lecture room.  Applause followed his walk to the
podium.  He was, after all, quite a pioneer in this field, as well as
an accomplished and respected ukelele player in his own right.
   "Gentlemen, " he began.  "And ladies, " he added hastily, smiling
ingratiatingly at the grad student.  She ought not be insulted, he
reasoned; it was after all still an infrequent occurance to find a
woman pursuing a field as distasteful as the study of Spam, particu-
larly its engineering aspects.  She must have a strong stomach.  But
Rader looked at him with disgust, rather as she might look upon a dead
cat which had fallen twelve stories.
   "Today I am privileged to speak to you, my colleagues and friends,"
he continued, "on the possibilities of using my Sub-Atomic Reintegrator
to transform Spam into a more useful and less disgusting substance.
   "In that vein, let me share with you a most unusual experience which
resulted from my first attempt to do so.  I think you will agree, it
now appears that Spam is more powerful, more volatile even than we had
previously realized.
   He paused for dramatic effect.
   "Gentlemen.  And Ladies.  Spam appears to actually be the third dim-
ensional manifestation of a fourth dimensional vector.  In fact, we may
find that with a careful and controlled use of Spam, we now have the
ability to move about *outside* the confines of our three-dimensional
Space-Time Continuum....

***** Entry appended 20:37 on Mon, 03/09/87 by CV17OPER at MIAMIU   # 011 *****
=========================================================================
Appended 12:16:16 on 04/02/87 by  Carlo N. Samson:

 Meanwhile in outer space...

    "Captain! Incoming objects from sector 4, mark 12," said Linda.
    The captain of the Challenger II said, "Well, what the heck are they?"
    "Configuration unknown. Wait, they're getting closer...ships of some sort,"
she replied.
    "Plasma-Torp 'em!" said Natchwald.
    The alien ships surrounded the Earth vessel. "Geez they're huge," he said.
    "Hmmm, they look familiar. Like giant birds, or something. Lieutenant,
open all hailing frequencies. Let's talk before we blow the pogies out of 'em,"
said Captain Steve.
    At Linda's nod, Steve began. "Greetings. We are from Earth. We come in
peace. We are friends." He paused.
    "Do you think they bought that shit?" said Natchwald.
    "No way in the world," said Linda.
    Just then the comlink beeped. "Put 'em on," said Steve. A moment passed,
then the image of a dark-haired naked female humanoid filled the screen.
    "Hubba-hubba!" said Natchwald, eyeballs popping out of his head.
    "Wakka-wakka!" said Steve, eyebrows rising.
    "Control your hormones, boys," said Linda. "Orders, Captain?"
    No reply. Turning from the console, Linda saw the Captain and Natchwald
staring blankly at the screen and drooling considerably. Then the comlink
beeped again.
    The naked female humaniod spoke. "I vant to suck your lifeforce," she said.
    Linda looked out the viewport at the nearest alien ship. Then she realized
what they looked like. "Not birds--bats!"
    She looked at the screen again. The naked female humaniod smiled, exposing
a pair of long white fangs.
    "Giant Space Vampires!" she exclamined in horror.

-----------

Holy hyperspace! Surrounded by Space Vampires! How will the Challenger II
get out of this one? I don't know! It's not my problem! It's the next person's!
Stay tuned! Same net-time, same net-channel!

***** Entry appended 12:16 on Thu, 04/02/87 by U09862   at UICVM    # 012 *****
=========================================================================
Appended 10:58:07 on 04/04/87 by  Jeff Smith:

    Bubba Wojahowitz was sitting on a small park bench, in Central
Park in New York City. The sun was shining, the birds were singing,
and there were no muggers attempting to kill or maim him or rapists
lurking in the underbrush, all of which combined to give Bubba a bad
case of the willies.
    If this sting of bizarre and unprecedented events were not enough
already, Bubba noticed a high-pitched hum emanating from the unsettlingly
smog-free air in front of him. He put down the newspaper he was
reading and gazed in the approximate direction of the hum. Suddenly,
appearing from thin air, was a large black slab of material, just
standing there unsupported.
    Bubba, even though he was used to run-of-the-mill weirdness he
has encountered in the past living in NYC, was not prepared for this.
His jaw became slack, and his eyes grew wide.  He was so busy doing
a combination of releasing adrenaline, catching his breath, and wetting
his pants, he had no time to realize that the hum had stopped.
    After a few minutes of raking the ground with his chin, Bubba stood
up, approached the black slab, and looked at it carefully. It was
black. I mean, *real* black. Not even that phrase gets across the
type of total absence of light that this slab had. It was so mind-
-bogglingly, eye-twistingly black, even black looked bright in
comparison. It was black to the point that if you had held up something
which you had formerly considered to be black to it, you would have
kicked yourself in the head for being nieve enough to consider it
black, because this slab was *BLACK*. Very black.
    After comprehending the slab's lack of color, Bubba started to walk
around it to see what the other side looked like, but as he was passing
it's edge, he noticed that it didn't have one. He looked again, but
with the same effect. The slab had no edge, no thickness at all. He
pondered this fact as he finished his circumvention of the slab which
revelaed, to no great surprise, that it was black on the other side too.
    Bubba sat down to think. After reasoning out this anomaly, he
decided that the only rational thing to do with an undocumented and
probably incredibly hazardous object such as this, was to fuck around
with it.
    He folded his newspaper carefully into a cylindrical bundle, and
walked up to roughly three feet in front of the slab. He carefully took
aim, and lobbed his New York Times Sunday Edition into the mind-melting
blackness of the object. With a sound like a freight train exploding
upon it's impact with a storage tank filled with kerosene in the middle
of a munitions dump, the paper disappeared, leaving only the smell of
burnt paper and sulphur behind.
     Bubba pondered once again the slab, and it's newly discovered trait
of eating news-papers. He also mentally weighed the staggering size of
his credit card debt, his 0.03 grade point average at NYSU, the fact that
he had just recently got his girlfriend pregnant, and that she insisted
on having the baby and getting married, and decided "What the Hell."
    He stepped back a few more feet from the slab and got a good running
start. He said a quick prayer, and smashed headlong into the mysterious
black object. With the sound of a 747 crashing into a nuclear-weapon
storage facility, he disappeared. Behind him the black slab folded up
into itself and disappeared, leaving not a single trace of it's
existance.

What happened to Bubba?
What was that black slab?
What happened to Bubba's newspaper?
What happened to Bubba's girlfriend?
Who is going to take St. Peter's place?

These questions and less, will not be never not left not unanswered in
the next edition of SFSTORY CSNOTICE!

***** Entry appended 10:57 on Sat, 04/04/87 by RPS385   at MAINE    # 013 *****
=========================================================================
Appended 10:58:56 on 04/04/87 by  Jeff Smith:

    Bubba stepped from the black slab onto a long beach, basking in the
multi-colored rays of three huge suns, hanging ponderously in the
sky like three glowing grapefruit. The sudden change of position
shocked Bubba, and, in order to prevent himself from fainting, he sat
down on the hot blue sands beneath him. He stared up at the three
large suns, and the green sky, and looked out over the slowly pulsing
red sea, crested by frothy pink waves. As he was contemplating his
sudden switch in location, someone spoke to him from behind.
    "Is this yours?", said the voice.
    Bubba whipped around and stared at the owner of the voice. He was a
tall, slender man, wearing a strange robe that seemed to sparkle and
glow. He had light blue skin, and very white hair, and what seemed to
be a goatee.
    "Is this yours?", asked the voice a second time, holding out a small
white and black bundle.
    Bubba reached out wordlessly and took the bundle from the strange. It
was his newspaper.
    "Uhh.. yes. Kind of.. Umm..", stammered Bubba.
    "Good.", said the stranger, " I found it on the sand over there and
assumed it must be yours."
    "Uhh.. Yeah.. Where.. ummnn.. where am I?", asked Bubba hesitantly.
    "Anthrax V.", said the man, "Home of The Giant Space Weasel of the
same locale."
    "The who?", asked Bubba, standing up from his crouched position on
the sand.
    "The Giant Space Weasel of Anthrax V.", said the man ominously,"a
multi-dimensional, inter-universal horror. A huge creature with great
big slathering fangs dripping red-hot poison, eyes that shoot forth
searing bolts of deadly radiation and gigantic claws that can rip
apart planets with a flick of the wrist."
    "And who are you?", asked Bubba, too dumbfounded to be scared.
    "I am his P.R. man.", said the P.R. man proudly,"G. X. P. Varnyloop
the LXVII, at your service." G.X.P. proffered his hand to Bubba. "And
you are?"
    "Ummnn.. Bubba Wojahowitz.", said Bubba shaking the slendar six-
-fingered hand.
    "Bubba Wojahowitz, hmmnn.." Varnyloop wandered off into thought.
    Bubba looked around himself again. The suns appeared to have risen
a bit higher in the sky, and the temperature seemed to have increased
accordingly. He thought about taking off his tweed jacket and tie, but
decided against it. G.X.P. awoke from his reverie.
    "I've got it!", he exclaimed.
    "What?", asked Bubba uncomprehenedingly.
    "Your new name!", said G.X.P. proudly.
    "My new name? What was wrong with the old one?", asked Bubba.
    "It was dull, unexiting, boring, drab and awful. Your new one has
some real pizazz in it.", said G.X.P. as he slowly stolled up over
a dune and away from the beach. Bubba quickly followed after him.
    "Well, I didn't think so. I thought it was unique.", he said after
cathcing up with the walking PR man.
    "Yes, it was unique. But so is Zartch the Flying Fish, and you
wouldn't want to be named that, would you?"
    "Well, no. But..", said Bubba unconvincingly.
    "Well, you're new name is much better.", said G.X.P. as he walked up
to a small metal hut sitting on the grass behind the sand dune they had
just surmounted.
    Bubba sighed and mourned silently at his lost sanity, and asked the
inevitable question. "Well, what's the name?"
    "Bubba the Wanton and Invincable Death-Merchant from Hell."
    Suddenly, Bubba ceased to be dumbfounded and counfused, and regained
his sense of the sane and loony. "What!?!?!?", he screamed, definatly
sensing this name to be one of the latter category.
    "Bubba the Wanton and Invincable Death-Merchant from Hell.", repeated
G.X.P.
    "Now wait one second here", said Bubba,"I admit 'Bubba Wojahowitz'
may have some minor semantic flaws, but 'Bubba the Wanton and Invincable
Death-Merchant from Hell' is definatly off the deep-end."
    "Well, of course it could use some refinements, but I like it. It
has a very distinctive quality about it.", said G.X.P.
    "It has a schizoid quality about it, that what it has.", said
Bubba.
    "What's wrong with it?", asked Varnyloop.
    "It isn't me!", replied Bubba.
    "Well, what IS you", asked Varnyloop as he opened the door to his
shack.
    "Bubba Wojahowitz.", said Bubba
    "Oh give me a break.", moaned G.X.P.,"Bubb the Wanton and Invincable
Death-Merchant from Hell is much better."
    G.X.P walked over to a small refridgerator leaning against the far
wall. He opened it and pulled out a small yellow can with red lettering
on its face. He set it down on a small metal table and commenced to
search through his cupboards for something.  Bubba walked up to the
metal object and examined it. It seemed to be made of a shiny silver
metal, covered with chipping yellow and red paint. He scutinized it
more closely and noticed the words 'Cheez- Whiz' in large, faded  red
letters on the front.
    "Cheez-Whiz?", asked Bubba incredously.
    "Shhhhhh!!", hissed G.X.P visciously, "Do you want *them* to hear?"
    "Ahhh! Here it is!", said G.X.P., withdrawing from the cupboard. He
held in his hand a small metal box covered with dials, switches and
buttons, attached to a fine wire mesh with a thin gold cable. He set
it down on the table next to the Cheez-Whiz. He unfolded the wire mesh,
placed it over the can, and stared intently at the dials on the box.
    "What are you doing?!?", asked Bubba.
    "Shhhh! You'll break the spell!", warned G.X.P.
    He fiddled with the dials, flicked a few switches, and once more
looked at the small dials. Suddenly, with a flash of sparks, and a
loud 'Pop', a tall, handsome man in a elegant suit appeared in
front of G.X.P. Looking at this man, Bubba felt a fague sense of
unease, and it seemed like the room had grown measurably hotter.
    "Yes, G.X.P. What is it you call me for?", said the man.
    "Well, your Evilness, I have a new Agent for you."
    "His name?"
    "Bubba the Wanton and Invincable Death-Merchant from Hell, your
Demonic Wickedness.", said G.X.P., pointing to Bubba.
    Bubba, for the first time noticed the two small horns in the middle
of the man's forehead. He correlated this with G.X.P's names for him, and
suddenly concluded, "You're the Devil!"
    "Quite right, young man. You're not as abyssimally stupid as you
look.  He will do Varnyloop. How much will that be?", said the Devil,
turning to G.X.P.
    "Could I have immortality this time?", he asked hopefully.
    "Now, that's a bit much, isn't it?", said Lucifer sternly.
    "Okay. I'm sorry your Eternal Awfulness. How about a million
Galactic Dollars?"
    "Fine. You will receive payment within the next week. Now then.",
He said, turning to Bubba, "come with me."
    "What? I'm not coming with *you*!", he said.
    "I'm afraid you are, that's part of my deal with Mr. Varnyloop
here.", he said calmly.
    "You can go to Hell!", yelled Bubba.
    "I plan to, my young man, I plan to.", said the Advesary with a
little chuckle. Before Bubba could react, he had grabbed him by the
belt, and hauled him away from the door to which he was edging.
    "A pleasure doing business with you, G.X.P.", said the Devil as
he dissappeared with Bubba in a flash of smoke and fire.

What will become of Bubba?
Who are 'they'?
Why are gross food products so important in this csnotice?
Why not?
Y ^?
Wye Knott?

These questions and more, may or may not be answered in any future
editions of SFSTORY CSNOTICE!

***** Entry appended 10:58 on Sat, 04/04/87 by RPS385   at MAINE    # 014 *****
=========================================================================
Appended 13:24:40 on 04/06/87 by  Bruce Pennypacker:

  The next thing Bubba Wojahowitz (now known as Bubba the Wanton and invincible
Death-Merchant from Hell) knew, he was in a large, well furnished apartment.
He looked around in amazement, for the apartment was bigger and cleaner than
anything he had ever seen in grimy New York City.  He would have actually liked
the apartment, if it wasn't for the fact that everything was red.  Not just
plain red, but all shades of maroons and pink.  Even the light coming from
nowhere seemed to be fire red.  The whole room was soooooo red, that it made
Bubba's  head spin.

  "Can't we go somewhere else?", Bubba asked.  "I hate the color red.  I mean
I really can't stand it.  It drives me crazy!"
  The Devil just chuckled and said, "Well you'll get used to it Bubba, after
all, you will be living here for all eternity."
  "Ulp!", was all Bubba could exhume from his numb lips.  "Errrp.  Aaack."
  "Relax for a while Bubba, and get to know your new home, and then we can get
to work."
  "Errgg.... Work????", Bubba finally managed to gasp.
  "Here is your first job.", said the Devil, waving a hand towards the brick-
red kitchen table.  There was a flash of red fire, and a red folder five inches
thick appeared from nowhere.
  "Be sure to read this file carefully.  It is of upmost importance to me.
You will be helping me out in an important way on this case."

  Bubba picked up the file, on its front were the words "URGENT" and "MOST
IMPORTANT" and other stupid things like that.  Under all that was the name
of a well know space ship, "The Challenger II".  Bubba managed to get up
enough nerve to ask,
  "What do you want with that rocket ship?"
The Devil sat down in a plush velvet-red lounge chair and said,
  "It is a rather long story, as you can see by that folder.  But I'll give
you a brief outline before we get started.  You see, that space ship is very
dangerous to me.  If those meddling humans manage to get to a certian planet,
I will be in *big* trouble!"
  "How big?", inturrupted Bubba.
  "Bigger than youre puny brain can possibly imagine."
  "Oh.", was all Bubba could think to say.
  "Any way," continued the Devil, "I've tried to stop that ship many times.
The first time I bribed an engineer, and had him put a bomb on board.  But the
stupid dolt put it on the wrong ship!  Then, after the Challanger II lifted off,
I sent the Giant Space Weasel of Anthrax V to go munch on it for a snack.  But
that annoying Captian managed to elude the Weasel.  How he did that, I still
can't understand.  Any way, I am presently sending a group of giant space
vampires to try to take care of the crew of the ship."
  Bubba decided to inturrupt again,
  "But what do I have to do with all this?"
  "You will be the next phase of my plan to stop the Challenger II.", grinned
the Devil.


                             *****

  At the same time, thousands of parsecs away from where Bubba the Wanton and
Invincable Death-Merchant from Hell was becoming hopelessly confused, the
Captain of the Challenger II thought up a brilliant way to escape the giant
space vampires.
  "Stay here on the bridge", Captain Steve said, "I think I know how to get rid
of those big bitches!"
  With that, Steve ran back into the hold of Challenger II, leaving his crew
with their jaws hitting the floor in amazement of what was happening around
them.
  After five minutes of watching the nude forms outside the ship, Natchwald
noticed that one of the airlocks was being opened.  The entire crew looked out
towards the airlock in time to see a space suited figure jettisoned towards the
planet that they were circling.
  " Oh my god!", screamed Linda," Captain Steve is trying to kill himself."
  " No I'm not.", said Steve, who had just walked back into the bridge, "Look
at whats happening outside."
  The entire crew looked outside in amazement as the vampires started fighting
each other over the space suit.  Little did they realize that they were being
lured towards the planet, and its immense gravity.  When the vampires stopped
tearing apart the space suit, it was too late.  They were trapped by the
gravatatonal pull of the planet, and fell to a very painful death.
  "What did you put in that space suit?", asked Natchwald, who had noticed
small objects floating out of the remains of the space suit.
  "Just some of the hungarian goolash that we were supposed to have for
dinner.", said Steve.


                             *****


  All of a sudden, the Devil shut his eyes and grimaced.  After about 2 milli-
seconds his eyes popped open, and he yelled,
  "Damn that Captain Steve!  He destroyed my space vampires!  Now I'm going to
have to get really mean!"
  Bubba was real scared, he didn't know what to expect next.  What did happen
next, even the Devil wasn't prepared for.  While the Devil was fuming over the
success of the Challengers crew, the door to the apartment swung open.  The
Devil turned around in his chair just in time to see two figures walk in.
  " Hi, is this... errr.  ooops!", Ford Prefect suddenly realized that he was
where he didn't want to be.  "Arthur, we had better be leaving."
  Arthur Dent was probably the most confused person in the entire universe at
this point in time.  All he could say was "Ulp!  Ummmm, where are...."
  Before Arthur could finish his question, the Devil pointed a finger at the
two hitch-hikers, and blasted them in a flash of red fire to who knows where.
  "I hate it when story lines get crossed!", The Devil fumed.  "Anyway Bubba,
what I want you to do is this.  You are going to have to work very fast.  Since
I cannot meddle directly in affairs on earth, I want you to kidnap  the sister
of Captain Steve."
  "Huh??", said Bubba.
  " Her name is Rader, and there is more information on her in that file on the
table.  You are to tell the government of the United States that you are holding
her in the name of the terrorist group "Antartic Jihad", and that if the space
ship finished its mission, then she will be sacraficed to The Killer Fleas of
Andragon.  Is that clear?"
  "Duh, gulp, whoops.", is all Bubba could say.
  With that, the Devil pointed a finger at Bubba the Wanton and invincable
Death-Merchant from Hell, and he disappeared in a puff of smoke.  The next
thing Bubba knew, he was sitting on the same bench in Central Park, with a
red file sitting on his lap labeled "The Challenger II"...


Will Bubba do what the Devil wants?
What are The Killer Fleas of Andragon?
Will Captain Steve finish his mission?
Will anybody ever finish this story?
(Will anybody ever read this story?)

Who knows???????????

***** Entry appended 13:24 on Mon, 04/06/87 by 90_PENNY at UNION    # 015 *****
=========================================================================
Appended 16:15:13 on 04/06/87 by  Bruce Pennypacker:

Some more silly questions to ask......

  What sort of *BIG* trouble will the Devil be in for if the Challenger II
completes its mission???

  How did Captain Steve know to use Hungarian goolash to entrap the giant
space vampires???

  Why the "Antartic Jihad"??????  Why not?????

  What happened to those two inter-steller hitch-hikers, Ford Prefect and Arthur
Dent?????

  What strange things are going to happen next in this bizarre universe???


Stay tuned for whenever someone else feels like wasting some time and appending
to this thing.....

***** Entry appended 16:14 on Mon, 04/06/87 by 90_PENNY at UNION    # 016 *****
=========================================================================
Appended 14:11:24 on 04/12/87 by  Jeff Smith:

    Bubba slumped onto the Park bench with a grunt.  The inexplicable
and bizarre events of the past few hours had worn heavily on his pitiful
metabolism, and before he could even close his eyes, he was asleep.
Without a second's warning, three large Hispanic men jumped out from
behind a garbage can and grabbed Bubba. He woke with a start and began
to mumble an protesting phrase, but it was in vain.  The three men
picked Bubba up from the bench and threw him to the ground.  After
stomping on his face for a few minutes, they broke his arms, fractured
a few ribs, and punched him in the groin. Having softened him up, they
really started in on him.  Several minutes later, there was not much
left of Bubba. A few crimson teeth poking shyly out of what had once
been his knee-caps, a shard of splintered bone potruding from
a blob of brain-tissue at an odd angle, and a large red stain on
the grass was all that was remained of Bubba Wojahoitz.  The three men
stood up and surveyed their handiwork. They all smiled, patted each
other on the back, and made grunts that, in meaning, roughly were
the equivalent of 'Jolly good show, old chap. Let's go back to my place
and relax.' (Mind you, this *is* an approximation, a better translation
would probably have read 'Fun. Blood. Me house. Drink. Fun. Okay?'
( bear in mind , also, that this too is only a rough translation. What
was really said sounded like 'Ung. Lud. Uhhh.. Kuh?'))  However, before
they could all go back to someone's house and preform their version of
male bonding, one of them noticed the red folder on the ground. Not
being able to read, or for that matter even coherently express the
concept of not being able to read, he tried to eat it.  Seeing how the
Hell-born material out of which this folder was made was hardly
eadible, the unfortunate Hispanic expired with a soft grunt. His two
friends, seeing their comerade's untimely demise, expressed their
heart-felt griveances by high-tailing it out of there.

    Bubba woke up.  He was afraid to open his eyes for fear of seeing
what the three muggers had done to his body. He tried to tell, without
looking, how many of his limbs were intact. However, a stern voice
interuppted his task.
    "Get up you bufoon!", said the voice.
    Bubba opened his eyes catiously, and was greeted by red. Lots of
it. With a uncharacteristic flash of insight, he realized that he was
back in Hell.
    "You bumbling organic fool! You diseased, weak, wimpering peice
of trash!! How could you? How *could* you!?!", yelled the Devil, quite
obviously angry.
    Bubba started to protest, but the Devil cut him off by incinerating
the wall to the left of his head, revealing the raging inferno outside.
    "Simpleton! You knew how valuable folder was to me! And you have
lost it! Assinine idiot!!"  The Devil was a fearsome sight to behold,
gone was the elegent, composed manner of Bubba's earlier encounter,
instead the Devil more resembled a cross between Hulk Hogan, an enraged
bull, and Krakatoa.  Bubba cringed as, in an extravagant gesture, the
Devil destroyed another wall of his room, revealing more Hell-fire.
    "And you *did* have to die on me, didn't you? Fool! You will pay for
your stpidity!"
    "It wasn't my fault.", said Bubba, "they got me when I was asleep."
    "Asleep? Cretin! Frail, organic twerp!", screamed the Devil.
    "Unfortunatly for me, I must continue to use you, seeing as how all
my other agents were captured and changed by Them.", said the Devil,"But,
your mission has changed. Your first priority is to retrive my folder.."
    "That doesn't sound difficult.", said Bubba
    "..and to kill the two men who killed you.", finished Satan.
    "Oh..", mumbled Bubba. "When do I start?"
    "Now.", He said. He pointed his finger at Bubba, and in a flash of
sparks, sulphur, and fire, Bubba, once again, was transported to
Central Park.

What happened to Bubba's assailants?
What happened to the folder?
What happened to romance?

These and many other questions may be answered in the next edition of
SFSTORY CENOTICE!!

***** Entry appended 14:11 on Sun, 04/12/87 by RPS385   at MAINE    # 017 *****
=========================================================================
Appended 14:11:25 on 04/26/87 by  Jeff Smith:

    To the sound of wild applause and frantic cheering, Doctor Von
Spleen stepped down from the podium and took a bow.  The auditorium,
filled with Spamial Engineers, was echoing with the adulation of a
hundered voice, crying out his name.
    "Von Spleen! Von Spleen! Von Spleen!", they cried.
    He took another deep bow, grabbed his Automatic Beet Peeler and
Sub-Atomic Re-Integrator, and made a hasty exit amidst a shower of
flowers, money, and pocket-protectors. He entered the small side-room
with the broken mirror, and slumped into a chair.  No sooner had he
loosened his tie and removed his jacket, than there was a knock at the
door.
    "Knock knock.", said the door.
    "Come in.", said the Doctor, straightening his tie.
    The door opened, and the beautiful female grad-student who had
introduced him entered.  She shut the door behind her, and walked over
to Doctor Von Spleen.
    "Your speech was amazing, Doctor.", she said.
    "Thank you, Miss.."
    "Vogel. Rader Vogel, Doctor.", she said huskily.
    "Ah, yes. Thank you, Miss Vogel. It was a pleasure talking to such
a distingusihed group of Spamial Engineers.", said the Doctor,
scrutinizing Rader's more-than-adequate chest to see if she was wearing
a bra.
    "At first, I thought you were just another geek..", she said," but
then, after listening to your speech, I realized that you must be the
most brilliant Spamial Engineer alive."
    Determining that she was indeed bra-less, the Doctor continued.
"You are too kind Miss Vogel. I am merely a humble scientist working with
Spam."
    "God, your modesty turns me on.  I want you, Doctor.", said Rader,
"I want you inside me. Now." With one extravagant motion, Rader ripped
away her blouse revelaing two large..

     *************************************************************
     * The  preceding  sex  scene has  been cut from this  entry *
     * of  SFSTORY  CSNOTICE, due to it's graphic  depiction  of *
     * sex,  violence,  and abuse  of  public  property.  It was *
     * deemed by the  editorship to be  too much for the average *
     * sex-starved  college  student to handle without  creaming *
     * his/her jeans. However, since I get it pretty  regularly, *
     * usually four or five times a week, I could handle it, but *
     * just barely, so I shudder to  think what your geeks would *
     * have done.                                                *
     *************************************************************

Rader and Doctor Von Spleen arose from the floor of the auditorium,
sweaty, caked with mud and whipped cream, and satisfied to the point
of smugness. Rader wiped the melted ice-cream from her chest, and
untied the feather-dusters from her thighs. Doctor Von Spleen removed
the broken catelope from his head, and slowly extricated himself from
the tangle of chicken-wire, Saran-Wrap and audio-tape.
    "Wow.", he said, after cathcing his breath.
    Rader panted for a few minuets, and finally echoed the Doctor's
evaluation of the encounter.
    "It's a pity, though, about the heat-lamp. I wish the bulb hadn't
burnt out.", she mused thoughtfully, as she collected the popsicle
sticks from off the floor and searched for her clothes.
    "If you're looking for your clothes", said the Doctor,"it's hopeless.
I think the goat ate them.  You can, however, wear my jacket, if you
want." He handed her the tweed blazer.
    She took the coat and donned it, not realizing that it obscured
nothing, but rather did the opposite, and highlighted her already
obvious endowments.
    "I have to get my machine, and then we can go back to my place and
shower.", said the Doctor as he walked into the side room.  He noticed
that the lights were dimmed, and that a familiar humming filled the
room.
    "Oh no! It's been activated!", he said, staring in horror at the
now-working Automatic Beet-Peeler and Sub-Atomic Re-Integrator. As
he advanced catiously towards it, the hum increased in volume, and
occasional sparks flew from within the machine.  With growing concern,
the Doctor noted that a can of Diet Pepsi had been placed within the
electrode assembly, and the Phase-Change timer had been set for
just one minute from now.
    "Ahh, so you've discovered my little trap for you, eh Doctor?", said
a voice from behind the Doctor.
    Doctor Von Spleen whipped around, and saw Rader, her naked body
still glistening with the sweat of their copulation, pointing a gun at
his chest.
    "What are you doing?", he asked.
    "Juat a little experiment", she replied,"Once it's completed, you
will have disappeared from the face of the Earth, and I will be the
greatest Spamologist in the world!".
    "But you are just a beginner. What do you know about the inter-
molecular bonds in Spam, or anything else for that matter?"
    "Everything that you knew. I have your breifcase, after all."
Rader held up a leather case, and laughed at the look of shock on the
Doctor's face. "Good-bye, Doctor."
    The timer on the ABPSARI flickered to zero. With an explosion of
sound and light, the Doctor, the machine, the Diet Pepsi, and three
quarters of a ton of elephant dung dissappeared from the face of the
Earth.

    *Fwip!*

    The Doctor found himself on a small moped, zipping along a beach-
cliff road on a small paved highway.  Strapped to the luggage carrier
behind him was the ABPSARI and a six-pack of beer. He found that he was
wearing, not the conservative business suit he had put on that morning,
but instead a beat-up leather jacket, a pair of jeans, and a sweatshirt
with the slogan "Party Naked in the Dark" printed on the front. Such
was his shock, that he didn't notice the innocent, albeit seven-legged,
pedestrian walking along the side of the road, and his him, sending the
hapless jaywalker flying over the cliff to a painful and bloddy death on
the rocks below.
    "Whoops.", said the Doctor.
    "Splat", said the seven-legged creature.
    "Splash.", said the waves as they washed the carcass out to sea.
    The Doctor screched his moped to a halt, and peered over the cliff.
Seeing that there was nothing he could, or for that matter, wanted to
do, he climbed back on to the motorbike and sped off into the distance.

Where is the Doctor?
Where is the Elephant dung?
Where have all the flowers gone?
Where is my sanity?

All of these questions and more will remain completely unanwered in the
next action-packed addition to SFSTORY CSNOTICE!!!

***** Entry appended 14:11 on Sun, 04/26/87 by RPS385   at MAINE    # 018 *****