Sfstory Log 011

=========================================================================
Subject:     Wherein Matt and Linda get a sudden career change
From:        Eric, Lord Sabre (Back at last) (enll6ac at bostonu)

     Matt and Linda sat huddled  in the cab of Optimus Prime, the
divine truck.  Matt was both shivering and Blushing, as the two were
sharing his Leather Jacket for warmth (strangly, it seemed large enough
to accomadate the both of them.)
     "Hey, Optimus, where's the heat???"  asked Linda, who was also
shivering but was enjoying the body contact.
     "Its on full, right now," said Optimus.
     "Full????" said Matt, President of Danielson Hall of Boston University,
"its freezing!!!!"
     "Of course, we're seven miles from the northern Maine/Canadian border in
April at six in the morning.  The oxygen outside is condesing."
     "Oh FANTASTIC!  When do we go back to Boston?"
     "We  don't.  You two do."
     With that, Optimus TransFormed and dumped the two unceremoniously on
the frozen ground.
     "Hey!  What's going on???"
     "Patience Linda.  Its time to come clean with you two, and get out of this
story as quickly as possible.  I am not Optimus Prime."
     "You look like him," said Matt,as calm as could be expected in front of
a twenty-foot tall robot who could crush his insignifigent little life out
of existance with all the difficulty of failing Calculus.
     "True, but in truth...."  Optimus's form twisted and blended into a
hugley, collossily immense form of animpossibly mighty Income Tax Collector
"I AM GOD THEW OMNIPOTENT AND KING OF ALL NICE AND WARM BLANKETS!!!!!!!!!!"
     The two were about as awed as one could be, realising that god looked like
an accountent.
     "YOU TWO ARE MY PALADIN"S TO FIGHT AND DEFEAT SATAN, WHO HAS HIS OWN
AGENTS WORKING AGAINST THE POWERS OF GOOD.  NEITHER SATAN NOR I CAN TAKE ANY
DIRECT PART IN THE AFFAIR, BY ORDER OF THE AUTHORS OF SFSTORY, WHO DON"T
SEE VERY MUCH SCIENCE FICTIONY IN DIVINE BEINGS.  MATT, YOU ARE NOW
SIR MATTHEW THE CUTE, DISPLACED PALADIN AND PATRON OF HOT CHOCOLATE, APPLE
CIDER, AND OTHER NICE, HOT, TASTY DRINKS.  YOU ARE ARMED WITH THE POWERS
OF YOUR LEATHER JACKET AND YOUR DIVINE COMPUTER ACCOUNT SUPERBRAIN at ORACLE2.
LINDA, YOU ARE NOW LADY LINDA THE CONFUSED, DUCHESS OF INNOCENT LOOKS
AND PATRON OF LACY UNDERWEAR.  YOU ARE ARMED WITH THE LUCK OF THE HEROINE,
WHICH MEANS NO MATTER WHATPOSSIBLY HAPPENS TO YOU, ONE OF THE AUTHORS OF
SFSTORY WILL MAKE CERTAIN IT ALL WORKS OUT IN THE END!!!!!!!
     NOW GO, MY CHILDREN, AND DO GOOD!!!!!"

     God faded away,in the sort of specticle you usually can only create
through computer graphics and a CRAY supercomputer.
     Linda softly said "wow."
     Matt softly said, "I don't have TIME to save the universe, I have a
council of president's meeting,and my friend Laura's supposed to visit,
and I'm on the Debate team, and I have to tutor some people in the morning...."
     Superbrain at oracle2 said *****Big deal, you're paladins.  You're in the Main
woods in subzero weather in inadiquete clothing.  I don't give you two until
the malls open to survive!*****

WILL THE TWO SURVIVE?
HAS GOD RETURNED TO HEAVEN?
IS HE REALLY AN ACCOUNTENT?
WILL MATT EVER STOP HARPING ABOUT HIS SCHEDULE?
IS THERE ANY POINT?

These questions and many more may never be posed againin any edition of
SFSTORY....

***** Entry appended 16:19 on Mon, 04/04/88 by enll6ac at bostonu   # 128 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     Wherein a little more of New England is smaoked
From:        Eric, Lord Sabre -}------------- (enll6ac at bostonu)

357, Radar, the Intern, and the crumpled form of Natchwald all basically sat
around, pondering their next move.  The group knew that Natchwald was a traitor,
but none of them had any idea just what he was a traitor of, or even who he
had betrayed it to.  All they did realise was that Radar's SSR (Subatomic
Spam Re-Intergator) was missing and threatening to destroy the cosmos in a
mind-boggelingly powerful rush of pure power that George Lucas would pay an
arm, a leg, and most of his pancreas to filmand mass market.
     Furthermore, Linda was missing and presumed pregnent, and Steve Vogel,
Linda's brother, was no where to be found.  For all of those who have so
patiently waited for myself, the Cowboy, Jeff, and the-other-guy-whose-name-
escapes-me-at-the-moment-but-I'm-sure-he's-a-very-nice-guy to get off our
collective buttocks and post some new chapters to SFSTORY, this should
adaquetly explain the motivations of this little group in case you had forgotten
     Lord knows I have.
     ANYway, they were sitting around, wondering just what they should do.
     Suddenly, 357 teleported away, with only a blob of Neo-spam where he
and Radar's Lazy-Boy had been just a second ago.
     "ARRRGGGGHHHH!" shouted Radar, "The SSR must be acting up again!  NOW
what do we do?????"
     "We have to get off this planet!" shouted the Intern, losing a bit of
the serenity that was so chariteristic of modern space superheros.
     "mmmmmmmrrrrrggggggllllhhhhhh" said Natchwald, and promptly began to
bleed again.
     Outside, in a rending of metel and ripping of normal noises, the
HMS Golden Lance altered itself into its rocketship shape and shot off, going
from zero to Warp Six in less than four seconds.
     This of course levelled Boston

There would ordinarily be a series of questions here, but the author was
in Boston when it went *blammo*

***** Entry appended 16:36 on Mon, 04/04/88 by enll6ac at bostonu   # 129 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     A PARTIAL LISTING TO EXPLAIN WHO SOME OF THESE PEOPLE ARE
From:        Eric, Lord Sabre -}------------- (enll6ac at bostonu)

In order to enlighten any of our reader who might have forgotten what was going
on after the rather large gap of time in which we were not posting, here is
a basic character breakdown.  Please note, I only can speak proof positivly
about my own characters--other people's characters and plots are subject to
my bias, my faulty memoory, and my tendency to make it all up as I go along.
      In no particular order....

     DOCTOR BING VON SPLEEN: the world's foremost Spamologist, the inventor
of the Automatic Beet Peeler and Sub-Atomic Re-Intrigator (or ABPSAR.)  The
ABPSAR is without a doubt one of the safest and most harmless devices in the
universe, provided nothing but honset Spam is used in it.  However, it has
never happened that anyone has used just good ol'spam in the thing.  With
anything besides Spam in the device, literarly ANYTHING can happen.
Dr. Von Spleen himself is a selfish, bitter man who enjoys sex, beer, recrationa
drugs, and having a good time irresponsably, and it is therefore conjectured
that he is in fact a college STUDENT, trapped in a Professor's body.


     CAPTAIN STEVE VOGEL:  Brave, heroic type, Captain Vogel was the captain of
the ill-fated Challenger II.  He had apparently been turned into fish food
by actions of a runaway ABPSAR, but certain actions and occurences of an SSR
and Radar Vogel, his twin sister, enabled him to be rescued.  He was rescued,
but his mind was forced out of his body by Satan three seconds after he woke
up.  His mind's whereabouts are unknown at this time, but this is nothing new.


     RADAR VOGEL:  Another of the world's greatest Spamologists, Radar Vogel is
a star of over thirt pornographic holovids in the galexy.  She is known
affectionatly as the OlympiC Sex Monster and is reported as being unsatisfiyable
This report is actually false.  She is actually insatiable, not unsatisfyable.
While not a nice person at all until recently, she has since been brought into
goodness by the Intern, whom she has fallen head over heels giddily into
the sort of hazey puppy love that everyone is always really nauseated by.  Her
greatest invention is the Spam Systematic Reintergater (or SSR) which for a
time held the universe together after the ABPSBR had nearly shattered it.
However, Saten (q.v.) has stolen the SSR and is using it to destroy the universe
in the sort of pyrotechnics that you'd think the special effects budget of
SFSTORYcould never handle.  Radar herself wants the SSR back in time to
get married to the Intern and get her degree, and then sell the francise
rights.  However, in as much as she was in Boston when it was leveled,that
may be difficult.

     LINDA:  Actually Lady Linda the Confused, Duchess of Innocent Looks and
patron of Lacy Underwear.  Linda was a memeber of the Challenger II crew, and
was one of the people who saved Captain Vogel.  Linda is without a doubt the
most beautiful girl you've ever seen.  I mean it, take those wide, innocent,
blue/green eyes and that lush, curvecious, satin soft body and....
     Er, well, anyway.  Linda is the sort of mindbogglingly nice person who
will get herself into incredible trouble and go through extreme hardship to
help someone.  These unfortunate traits lost Linda's virginity at fourteen
and has managed to get her in every porno magazine in known space.  But,
with the spirit of any saint, Linda moves on and keeps her head up high.
Fortunatly for her, she has been made a Paladin by God (q.v.) and she and
Matt DeForrest are currently conspiring to save the universe, while huddling
in Northern Maine for bodyheat.  Linda has been given the Palidin ability of
Deus Ex Machina--wherin no matter what happens to her, one of the authors of
SFSTORY will make it come out all right for her.

     MARK HYPERTHRUST:  Freshman at Intersteller U, majoring in Space Heroics.
He's not currently really happy, because he knows the Intern's been
assigned to pull his tail out of the fire and get him back to IU.  Furthermore,
Mark's assignment (to find at least one Damsel in Distress and rescue her) has
turned out very badly indeed, and his "requisitioned" starship, the HMS
Goodguy, was reduced to completle and utter slag not all that long ago.
Further, he has lost all contact with his two main squeezes--Linda and Radar.
All in all, dumb as a bit of helium gas, but reasonably good with his hands.

     THE INTERN:  Mysterious Timelord from the planet gallifry.  The Intern is
a Bh.D (Bacholer's of Heroic Deeds) holder in speace heroics, with a minor
in Interpreting Incredible Coincidence.  He is currently working on his
Masters degree in Space Heroics, Timelord emphisis.  His TARDIS was accidentilly
lost when Matt DeForrest and Muck-Luck accidentally activated it without the
crucial missing circutry.  He carries around a lightsabre-shaped flashlight
which seems to be adaptable with any number of components he carries around
with him in his jumpsuit pockets.  He is fully licensed as a space hero, and
should never, never, ever be underestimated.  Also in Boston when it smoked.
He is engaged to Radar Vogel, whom he loves very much, although he is open
to other offers.

     MATTHEW DEFORREST: Actually Sir Matthew the Cute, Displaced Paladin and
Patron of Hot Chocolate, Hot Apple Cider, and other Tasty Hot Drinks.  Matt
is an all around nice person, despite being a bit on the geeky side.  He blushes
whenever anything even remotly female approches him, and his maximum blush
is brighter than many Supernovas.  He is President of Danielson Hall at
Boston University, although he doesn't realise BU got blowed up when the resyt
of Boston went.  He puts entirly too much importance in the trivial little
details of his life.  As another of God's Paladins, Matt is armed with a
very nice Bomber Jacket that never seems to run out of pocket space, and
an omniscient computer account which he has no controlover.  However, even
though Matt had no intetion of getting this account, the account's original
owner, Muck-Luck, has every intention of obliterating Matt.  Finally,
Matt suffers from a rare condition--Niceguyness--which makes virtually any
female who sees him tell him all her troubles and regard his sexual
availability somewhere below her brother.
     Matt is currently trying to aviod freezing to death with Linda.  Matt
also has a deep crush on Linda.

     NATCHWALD: Natchwald was another of the crew of the Challenger II.  He
helped find Captain Vogel, and was more or less a nice, if unnessecarily
bland, person.  However, After Sataen took over Vogel's body, he secretly
enslaved Natchwald's mind.  Natchwald is currently battered and brused
from attempting to ambush the Intern and 357 and failing.  He also was in
Boston when it poofed.

     MUCK-LUCK:  Muck-Luck is normally the most enlightened being in any
universe.  He is all seeing, all knowing, all being, and accepts most
major credit cards.  However, he had his omnipotent, non-ibm VAX account
(capable of answering any answer in the known universe, and even in the
Unknown universe) electrochemically transferred to Matt while digitizing
Lisa Bonet.  He still has Annialation at Destructionvax5, a combative computer
account capable of seperating every atomic particle in a star across a
fifty-thousand light year area inless time than it takes to be impressed by
it.  He is currently in a runaway TARDIS with a young girl named Trudy, who
is a very rich, very bubbly, very cute, very drunk, very devoted Dr. Who
fan.  Please note that Muck-Luck is currently taken over body and soul by
Satan.

     TIME AGENT 357:   One of the greatest Time Police Agents who ever walked
a space time beat, 357 is the all around space hero of the story.  357 is
far too qualified to describe here.  Suffice it to say:he wants to get Dr.
Von Spleen and find out what he was doing with Time Police equipment, he
is supposed to be helping the Intern defeat Satan, he is supposed to deliver
Mark Hyperthrust to the Intern, and he would like to save the universe so
he can go home and get really, really drunk.
     Unfortunetly,he is currently hurtling through space/time without a
starship, on an uncontrolled course caused by the SSR.  His ship, the
HMS Golden Lance, immediatly pursued, but did it in such a way that Boston
was leveled by its exhaust.



      MORE ENTRIES WHEN I HAVE TIME OR DESIRE

***** Entry appended 22:24 on Mon, 04/04/88 by enll6ac at bostonu   # 131 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     PART TWO OF THE MASTER LIST
From:        Eric, Lord Sabre |-}--------- (enll6ac at bostonu)

    Continuing the files to abate any and all confusion with
SFSTORY....

When we last left Will, Doc. Smith, and the robot.....


     ZARK FLYBY: Second Lieutenent in the Time Police.  Zark is an
archtypical example of a modern Time Police officer (don't get
me started on just how any time traveller can be modern or
obselete, you just have to take these things on faith.)  Zark is
rude, crude, needlessly violent, boorish, and rather stupid.  If
faced with a concept higher than 1 + 1, Zark's brain is overtaxed
and he tends to fall flat on whatever passes for his face.  About the
only thing that doesn't overtax the single opertaional brain cell
in Mark's head is total violence, especially when Zark is the one
being violent.  His method of dealing with any given situation is
to shoot all plants, animals, trees, and other sundries in the area
until anything remotly resembling the situation is dust on the plain.
Zark is considered a bright young star and is likly to earn his own
command soon.

     BUBBA:  Actually, Bubba the Death Merchent from Hell, as over-
inflated by Zarniwoop.  An innocent New Yorker, or as innocent as anyone
in that pit of perversion could possibly be.  Due to stupidity he
emminently could have controlled, Bubba has, over the course of this
story, been enslaved by Satan, Dr. Von Spleen, God, Omegas, and
several other immortals.  He is currently fighting needlessly with
the people around him.

     RALPH:  Called the Giant Space Weasel from Anthrax V, Ralph is
another of the beings who was forced into all sorts of servitude by
all sorts of immortals, and would, on the whole, rather be sitting
amongst his fem-weasel love slaves, playing the ukeulele (another
word Eric cannot spell and doesn't want to hear about) in his own right.
I haven't the foggiest idea what he is currently doing, which proves
even the authors of this story don't REALLY know whats going on.


     G.X.P. VARNYLOOP LXVII:  Full name *deep breath* is Gorginforx
Xipnapoloop Pargarquackylywinks Varnyloop LXVII *pause while the
author pants for a few minutes.*  It is easy to see why Varnyloop
uses his initials.  Future member of Time Police, where he will
be the former partner of 357 (it gets confusing.)  At the moment,
a professional Name Maker and Ego Inflator who yodels in his
(prodigious) spare time.  Some of his most famous name creations
are: The giant Space Weasel of Anthrax V, Dorf the Hideous and
thouroughly evil body-basher of Frutose VII, Hoon the Amazing and
Totally Fabulous Wonder-Worker of Beachcomber VIII, and Ronald
Reagan the Great Communicator.  G.X.P. is also involved with the
mess that Bubba, Ralph, Zark, and Mark Hyperthrust got left in by the
Cowboy who had BETTER stop waffling and get some decent postings
out because Scott and Andy and Jeff all stopped posting and I'll be
DAMNED if I'm going to support this story all alone on the salary I
get (i.e. none) and besides, I have nothing to do to his plotlines!

     GOD: You should already have some Idea who this is.  At the moment,
he has left Matt and Linda but has not reappeared in Heaven, and so
is apparently hiding from the Authors of SFSTORY.

     SATAN:  You should also have a clue as to his identity.  However,
you may well be wrong.  Satan currently is stuck in the body of Steve
Vogel, as his own immortal form is trapped unter thirty thousand tons
of neo-spam that replaced Portland, Maine.

     LISA BONET:  Mentioned here only because Lisa Bonet, star of
A Different World and corrupt, renegade Cosby Kid, was utterly
destroyed by Muck-Luck in order to repair his runaway TARDIS.  The
girl is DEAD DEAD DEAd and none of you slimey little people can do
anything about it!!!!!  A-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!

     PORTLAND, MAINE:  Portland was flung into space at Warp
four due to the actions of the SSR.  It was going to be save, but
was annialated for hubris.

     FREEPORT, MAINE:  Freeport was also flung in the Spam Event,
only going Warp two.  It avoided being destroyed, and currently flys
to its destiny.

     BOSTON, MASS:  Boston was leveled when 357's ship, the HMS
Golden Lance, shot off at warpspeed from a dead stop while
sitting on Bay State Road.

     QUOOTH: A sort of insect like being who is a sort of sex
that is nothing similar to any sex we know about, but I can't
for the life of me figure out what it is or what it is supposed to
be.  Needless to say, my query for back volumes to SFSTORY at
CSNOTICE are taking far far far too long for me to wait for them
any longer and I am therefore giving up on them.  Quooth is on a
quest for eternal happiness and is being led by phis (his sex's
pronouns begin with p) harmonica, which is the most perfect object
in the universe and seems as omnipotent as Matt's Bomber Jacket
has pocket space.  He's one of Scott's plotlines and as Scott hasn't
posted in quite some time, he is fading from view fast.
     So get posting, Scott!

     OMEGAS:  An occasionally Immortal, occasionally evil, occasional
good, occasionally dead, occasionally omnipotent being who, as you
can see here, has no consistancy to base an entry on.  Again, Scott
(who needs to post and post soon!!!!) is currently working with him,
so I have very little info to go by.

     ST. PETER:  The Bouncer of Heaven.  St. Peter has an increedible
attitude problem and understands Zark Flyby like a soul-brother.
When God left to Paladinize Matt and Linda, St. Peter was left in charge
and told not to mess around with any of the SFSTORY characters.  Of
course, this means he has been playing around with Space/Time and the
structure of heaven like a Madman, and should be beaten about the
head with a very large stick at the earliest convienience.

     Well, this completes the list of current "major" characters in
SFSTORY.  If you understood any of it, e-mail the authors immediatly
and explain it to us.  Also, please continue e-mailing the Cowboy
(THC8650 at THTECH) and get him posting again.  Heck, you don't REALLY
want to leave all of his plotlines unresolved, do you?  CXourse not!

***** Entry appended 15:52 on Wed, 04/06/88 by enll6ac at bostonu   # 134 *****
=========================================================================
From:        Kevin (Guardian) Pelleti (RFK350B at MAINE)

     Meanwhile in what used to be Boston until Warp speed theory inter-
fered, a lone figure rises from the ground in a place that used to be
a small pub on Commonwealth Ave.
     "Fudge!!!" (Paladins, even retired ones, don't swear)
     "I finally retire so I can enjoy some of the things common people
take for granted (like warm meals, a glass of wine, and (if I'm lucky)
maybe even someone to settle down with.", he moans.  There are two types
of Paladins you see.  There are those that are zealots that will do
anything they can because it is for GOD that they are doing it.  Then
there are the ones that just happen to have a kind, caring personality
that get hooked with the job.  Silverhawk the aforementioned Paladin
and the now Patron Saint Matt (I think)) happen to be of the later type.
     The thing about the second type of Paladin is that once they start
down this road, they have no choice but to continue.  Although they
hate what they go through its either that or shock the people they know
to death by saying what they really feel.

ENOUGH RAMBLING!!!  GET BACK TO THE STORY!!!

Oooops.  Sorry!!

     Having made Boston his first stop upon retiring Silverhawk had
wanted nothing more than a good meal and a glass or three of good wine.
This was interupted (along with the conversation he was having with
a rather beautiful young woman) by the sudden acceleration of a certain
other author's starship.  Being slightly perturbed but unhurt (there are
some advantages to bing a Paladin) he now has to decide whether or not
to come out of retirement and get involved in the muddled events of
SFSTORY or to just climb back into his trusty Victory (his snow white
van with the custom painting of a man mounted on a pegasus on the side
which had not only escaped distruction but was not even dirty) and
ride into the sunset.

Thats where you come in!!!!

Do I post again or just fade into the background of unused plotlines??
Does Silverhawk get caught up in the events around him or does he
go back to Northern Maine and continue his Paladin like life there??

Its up to the responses I get from you the reader!!

                                       Guardian Angel
                                        A Paladin of the Second Kind

***** Entry appended 21:03 on Wed, 04/06/88 by RFK350B at MAINE     # 135 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     Back in the smoking remains of Boston
From:        Eric, Lord Sabre (enll6ac at bostonu)

     "Hey, is there any way we can get a light on down here?"
     The Intern snapped his lightsabre shaped flashlight on, bathing
everyone in the shade of blue that you'd not expect to come out
of any sort of flashlight, much less one that was lightsabre shaped.
     "Joyous thanks, methuselah," muttered Natch, who felt even
worse than he had ten minutes before.
     Radar smiled at him, saying "well, we know we're alive."
     The Intern furrowed his brow.  "Well...do I look the same as
I did before the building collapsed?"
     "Yeah."
     "Oh good, I was hoping I hadn't regenerated.  Right, so...um...
Where are we?"
     "It looks like we managed to fall into a subbasement of my
Bay State Road apartment building, and I'll bet some support beams
crossed above us and are bracing the rubble and keeping it from killing
us."
     "However did you know that," asked the Intern.
     "Simple, I read ahead in Eric's pre-posting notes.  Problem was,
he hadn't yet gotten around to figuring a way for us to escape."
     "Hmmm, well, that might not be such a problem.  First things first.
What happened?"
     "Well, 357 disappeared in my Lazy-Boy recliner, both of which were
replaced by a huge gob of neo-spam, indicating that it was the SSR
that sent him away."
     "Right," said Natch, "and I woke up from the beating you gave me
just in time for the building to shatter around us."
     "True," said the Intern.  "However, none of that explains just
why it happened.  Let me take an energy scan of the place."  He took
out a small ring and fitted it to his sabrelight in a configuration that
was vaguely, but not quite understandably, obsene.
     The light turned a deep purple, making Radar wish she had the
appropriate pills to enjoy the psychadelic light show.
     "Yes, there's the residue of energies from a mark LVII megacorp
ABPSAR-powered chronon-charged, really-fast hyperlight time drive,
with the frequency of an emergancy ground-based cold start of the
engines to warp three or four within one city block of the building,"
said the Intern, who was remarkably correct, considering his grades
in "Energy Idetification 315."
     "All right then, which way out of it?" asked Radar.
     "Give me a moment," said the Intern.
     He clipped a second module to the sabrelight, making the
overall look similar to a really massivly wild college party after
the serious drugs have taken effect.  The light turned that sort of
color you always associate with really incredibly rock concert light
shows but couldn't really identify.
     Yes, right over here is the appropriate location--oh dear, sorry.
I do believe I've accidentally stumbled into the narration.  Oh well,
give me a moment....
     The Intern said, (immediatly after the author returned from
his coffee break and booted him out of the narration and back into
the story where he belonged, "Yes, right over here is the appropriate
location for the easiest path to the surface."
     Taking a fourth module, he connected it to the sabrelight in such
a way to make it so mind-bogglingly porongraphic Larry Flynt wouldn't
publish it, yet at the same time making it look more or less like any
other science fiction gadget.  The light faded to a perfectly normal
white light, disappointing Radar and Natch as they were waiting for
the stage show.
     The sabrelight began to make an incredibly loud racket akin
to Ozzy Ozbourne playing an electricly amplified pit bull by yanking
its tail off in a particularly noisy and painful fashion.  The wreckage
began flying out of the way, as if several large invisible linebackers
on steroids were clearing the path.
     "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING!!!!!!??????" shouted Radar, barly
loud enough to be heard.
     "ITS MY SONIC CROWBAR!!!!!!!!!" shouted the Intern back to her.
     Anyway, after all was said and done, the three were soon at
the top of the shaft, and were looking at the absolute wreckage done
by the warpcraft's abrupt pursuit of the somewhat startled 357.
All of Boston had been set rather roughly on its side, it seemed.
     "Well, what do we do now?" asked Radar, feeling rather
insignifigent.
     "Popcorn and beer would be out of order, I take it," said
Natchwald, took shaken by the death and destruction around him to
even feel as properly evil as he should, being a minion of Satan.
     "Does anyone have a bit of tea," asked the Intern, who was a
bit thirsty.
     Behind them, with a great amount of wheezing, a beer keg slowly
materlerized into existance.

WILL NATCHWALD BECOME A GOOD GUY AGAIN?
WILL MUCK-LUCK GIVE THE INTERN HIS TARDIS BACK?
WILL RADAR STILL FEEL INSIGNIFIGENT AFTER A NICE BATH AND A SPOT
     OF HOT CHOCOLATE?
WILL THE INTERN TAKE HIS SONIC CROWBAR AND BECOME A HEAVY METAL
     ROCK STAR?

All this and more will be summarily summerised, considered, and
flogged to death in the next exciting SFSTORY!!!!!!!!

***** Entry appended 21:31 on Thu, 04/07/88 by enll6ac at bostonu   # 136 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     In the cold cold reaches of Maine
From:        Eric, Lord Sabre -}-------------- (enll6ac at bostonu)

     Matt and Linda were stitting, sharing a leather bomber jacket which
due to forces few people could appropriatly undertand, fit the both of them
perfectly.
     "Well, we have to make a fire if we're going to survive," said
Linda, who was nothing if not practical...and truth be told, was not much
IF practical.
     "I know, I know, but would you mind telling me how we're going to
do that?  I mean, you don't have any matches, do you?"
     "You're the omnipotent one, you tell me!"
     "Hey, I'm omniscient, NOT omnipotent.  Anyway, my omniscience is
less than helpful, if not downright belligerent!"
     *****I know you are, but what am I***** said superbrain at oracle2.
     "Oh do hush, if you're not going to be helpful," said Matt, obviously
rankled, if not downright miffed.
     "Hush?  Why should I hush?" asked Linda, a bit hurt, confused, and
annoyed, none of which Matt wanted Linda to be in regards to HIM.
     "Uh, no!  No, not you, I...aw, its this damn computer account!  I'm getting
info from it at the same time I listen to you!  I don't think I'll ever learn
how to deal with it!  In any case, we have to get warm, or pretty soon we'll
be God's Paladins-on-a-stick, which would not be good."
     "Well, you got anything in this Bomber Jacket which might help?" asked
Linda, who was wondering how cold she'd have to get to activate her Paladin's
Deus Ex Machina ability.
     "I dunno, I'll check."
     After ten minuted of emptying out his Bomber Jacket's infinite pocket
space, there was a rather large pile in fron of the two which included a
pup tent, two sleeping bags (capable of being zipped up as one large one),
two Heavy Death Really Kill'em Personal Nukers, and about thirty issues of
the New York Post, all suitable for burning.
     "I never put any of this stuff in my Bomber Jacket," said Matt, more
confused than usual.
     "Well...maybe its part of you Bober Jacket's ability, or maybe its part
of my "everything will turn out all right ability".  In any case, let's
get warm!"
     Matt blushed a deep crimson/purple, and began to arrage the Posts into a
bonfire  arrangement.  Then he lit it with a low power blast from his Nuker.
     Soon the two were munching Breakfast Bars, curled up in their (still
seperate, much to Matt's chagrin) sleeping bags, next to a roaring fire.
Matt had found complete changes of clothes for the two in the jacket,  and they
now wore white jumpsuits (after changing seperatly in the pup tent, get your
mind out of the gutter.)  Matt was also wearing his Bomber Jacket, and sported
a rather nice white scarf and black cane/umbrella with it.  Linda had some
really risque underwear on that had set Matt's blush on nuclear, and wore a
deep blue scarf and blue parka.  All perfectly suited to the Maine woods, or
at least, so the two thought.
     "Well," said Linda, relaxing for the first time since she got involved
in SFSTORY and lifted off in the Challenger II, which really was quite a
while ago, all things considered.  "Well," she repeated, for the benifit
of the reader who might have forgotten it due to the author's rather long
narration after it.  "Well," she said for a thrid time, before whipping out
her Nuker and sending a warning blast to the author who's going to shut up
now if he knows what's good for him.
     "Well," said Linda, "maybe you should try to figure out how to use your
Omniscient account, now that we have a little bit of time.  We're probably
going to need it to figure out where to go next."
     "Right, so, um, how do I do it?"
     "You're an English Major, aren't you?"
     "Yeah, how'd you know?"
     "No sense of logic.  Why not prefix commands to it with something like
'inquiry,' or 'query,' or 'question?'  You know, like Data talks on
'Star Trek:The Next Generation?'"
     Matt looked worried, "Dont mention ST:TNG too loud, or one of them might
end up in this story too!  But all right, I'll give it a try."
     He cleared his throat.  "Query: where do we have to go next?"
     The response was immediate.  *****No, no, no, you snotty little
excrement!  "Query" indicates a set-up search subroutine that finds or locates
specific information, like when Muck-Luck activated the retreval program to
run the TARDIS controls.*****
     "Oh...all right,"  Matt got an evil look in his eyes.  "Query: A list of
operating commands and their function to correctly work with the mainframe
of superbrain at oracle2."
     *****Oh, dammit!  You WOULD have to go and make a command like that, you
mind-bogglingly insignifigent particale of pre-animate matter!  All right,
Working, dammit!*****
     "Why do you look so smug?" asked Linda.
     "I think I've got its measure," said Matt.
     Then a file report appeared in Matt's mind's eye.
     *****-------------FILE REPORT 333422***3443$$##^^&^.2----------------
                           Operating commands for oracle2
                               Omniscience Account
               query: list or retreval subroutine
               scan: abnormal analomies in the immediate area
               question: individual question to be answered
               spiscan: scan for specific materials in area
               recall: emergancy recall--WARNING, emergancy ONLY!!!!
               Total Universal Connection:  DON'T try this one
               Getmail:  recive messages
               sendmail: send messages
               relay: sign on to bitnet relay subroutine
          ----------------------------------------------------------------*****

     "Wow," said Matt.  "That's great!  I can work this thing now!"
     *****Don't get cocky, white boy*****
     "Er, right.  Anyway.  Question: what's our best move?"
     *****off of your sides and away from the anthill you're lying on*****
     "That's not what I--oh, right!"  The two rolled off the anthill.
     *****Look, madivorious pervert, I'm not gonna tell you what to do,
you've gotta figure it out for yourselves!*****
     "Oh...you just give information, not suggestions?"
     *****I can't HEAR you...?*****
     "Opps, Question: superbrain at oracle2 doesnt give suggestions, just
information?"
     *****please phrase in the form of a positive question, squidbreath*****
     Matt sighed.  "Question: does superbrain at oracle2 give suggestions?"
     *****No*****
     "Great, all right then, we'll figure it out.  We should probably go
north a few miles, to Fort Kent, Maine.  I have a few friends there, from
college.  We'd at least be able to get back to Boston or contact the Intern...
if we can figure out where he is."
     "Good idea, Matt...you're really good at this sort of thing."  Linda
gave him the sort of little smile that really nice, really sexy girls know
how to give guys...the one that turns all the calcified parts of your body
to lime jello brand geletin and throws your hormone level into warp drive.
     Matt, as expected, blushed.

WILL SUPERBRAIN at ORACLE2 EVER GIVE OUT ANY USEFUL INFORMATION?
WILL MATT EVER GET TO BE IN A SLEEPING BAG *WITH* LINDA?
WILL LINDA"S PERKY GOOD NATURE WEAR DOWN WITH THE COLD?
WILL THE AUTHOR EVER GET AROUND TO RESOLVING ANY OF THESE LOOSE ENDS?

Don't hold your breath for the answers.

***** Entry appended 20:51 on Fri, 04/08/88 by enll6ac at bostonu   # 137 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     357 is in big trouble...
From:        The Cowboy (THC8650 at TNTECH)

Time Agent 357, quietly reclined in his Lazy-boy recliner, travelled through
nether-space with considerable velocity.  Carefully considering his situation,
he decided that this must be the result of some random action taken by the
SSR.  Glancing back over his shoulder, he noticed that his trusty spaceship,
the HMS Golden Lance, was following him.  "How is it flying without Spam?" 357
thought, offering a silent prayer of thanks that the Cowboy was posting again.

Presently, 357 noticed that his recliner was approaching a strange chunk of
matter floating in nether-space.  The recliner decellerated from a speed of
one half the speed of light to a two meters per second in a space of five
seconds, producing a gee force equal to (actual calculations left to the
reader).  The recliner hit the ground softly, and 357 stood and stretched.
Looking up, he noticed that his ship was still following, and apparently
could not stop as fast as the SSR assisted Lazy-boy.  The ship hit and stuck
halfway into (and halfway out of) the soggy ground.

357 was trying to figure out how to get his ship unstuck (or at least make
it stop crying) when he was approached by two creatures.  The creatures were
tall, ugly, had sharp claws and sharper fangs.  One was blue and the other
red.  357 grabbed for the Diffusion Internal Energy SuperChronal Unilateral
Matrixor (DIESCUM) blaster he carried in the holster in his left boot.  He
had it drawn and all five safeties off before the creatures had put their
hands on their swords.

"Who the hell are you?" bellowed 357, not in the mood for niceties.

"I am Der," said the red creature.

"I am Eulb," said the blue creature.  Both creatures removed their hands
from their sword hilts.

"They could be friendly" 357 thought.  "Then again, it could be a trick" was
his second thought.  His mind was thinking up a third thought when his
trigger finger got tired of waiting and blasted the creatures back to the
Hell from which they came.

As he watched what was left of the creatures blow away in the wind, he
suddenly remembered what he was taught in Demons 151 back at Interstellar U:
the color demons were Satan's most trusted servants, and were usually used
to guard objects Satan had stolen.  There were probably more about, and the
destruction of these two would have alerted the others to his presence.  He
started moving toward the rise to his left, hoping to get a better view of
his surroundings.

He made it to the rise without incident, successfully avoiding Wolley,
Teloiv, and Egnaro.  Looking about for some clue as to what was going on, he
noticed a glint of metal coming from the neighboring rise.  357 knew his
eyes must be playing tricks on him, as the object looked like an eggbeater
set atop a steel-wire cage full of Spam.  He decided to check it out anyway.

Meanwhile, back on a strange planet where trees walked around sniffing at
dogs who were rooted to the ground, and strange group of humaniods,
accompanied by one ukulele-playing weaseliod, appeared to be looking for
something.

What adventures will 357 have in nether-space?
Will the group of humanoids find what they are looking for?
Does anyone remember how they got there to begin with?
What about Omegas and Quooth and their adventures in The Bend?
Where is Satan, and why is he smiling?

For the answers to these, and other questions, write your own entry to
SFSTORY CSNOTICE!!!!!!!!!

***** Entry appended 21:23 on Fri, 04/08/88 by THC8650 at TNTECH    # 138 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     And Muck-Luck come's on home....
From:        Eric, Lord Sabre (enll6ac at bostonu)

     Muck-Luck stepped carefully to the door of the TARDIS.  There
was absoulutly no telling where he had ended up, Space/Time being the
really massivly big place it tends to be.  Behind him, the still
intoxicated, woozy Trudy was swaying back and forth, holding onto a
very convieniently placed dance-bar for balance, wearing nought but her
underwear.  Muck-Luck ignored the girl, and instead logged into
his annialation at destructionvax5 {note--anyone who'd like to E-MAIL me
the correct spelling of annialation, which I assume I'm misspelling,
gets a free shot at the grand prize!}  He knew that whatever was beyond
the door, his computer account was more than capable of giving it a
really seriously bad day.
     He cycled the door open and slowly stepped outside.  He stared.
     He was in Boston, this he could tell by all of the "Boston" type
signs that were spread about like so many pick-up sticks.  However, it
was a Boston one usually saw after particularly rowdy St. Patricks Days
when the Red Sox drop two, the Celtics take a life, and a tactical
Nuclear strike had been performed upon the Prudential Center.  Houses,
buildings, and even the bars were all very much destroyed.
     Immediatly in front of him was the Intern.  Muck-Luck also
recognized Radar Vogel from her numerous porno flicks and her
contraceptive endorsements.  The other gentleman, battered and bruised,
was a complete stranger to the ex-Omniscient seer.
     "Well, better get off on the right foot," thought Muck-Luck.  He
immediatly vaporised the majority of the remains of Bay State Road,
shouting "TURN AROUND AND FACE ME YOU LITTLE STAR-TURDS!!!!!!!!!"
with all the force and emphisis of any man capable of destroying stars.
     With a herart-wrenching noise that not only would, but did, wake
the dead of Boston, the Intern whirled and activated the Sonic
Crowbar, proceeding to beat Muck-Luck silly with it.  After Muck-Luck
was silly, the Intern beat him senseless and then beat him up and
then beat him black and blue and then, and ONLY then, did he beat him
into unconsiousness.
     "Wanna turn off that damn noise so we can rest in peace," the
dead in Boston said, rather flippently really.
     The Intern mumbled an apology, turned off his Sonic Crowbar, and
looked at Muck-Luck's pulped form.  "Oops," he said, "he caught me off
guard."
     "Who is he?" asked Radar, still looking at the Soic Crowbar with
obvious sexual connotations.
     "Yeah, what's going on," asked Natchwald, who wished that the
dead would be polite enough not to talk to them, as they made him nervous.
     "This is Muck-Luck, an omniscient, hyper-enlightened being who
knows everything.  He's my companion, and I've just rendered him highly
injured.  That beer-keg over there is my TARDIS, come home at last.
     "You mean," said Radar, who meant it.
     "Yes," said the Intern, "We finally have the means to get off
this planet and start chasing down both the SSR and Mark Hyperthrust.
Everything's beginning to go our way at last!"
     "We'd better try and locate Linda too!  Lord only knows what
happened to her!"
     There was rather a lot of laughter around them suddenly, as if
some divine being knew some cosmic truth that Radar had just inadvertatly
stumbled across.
     "Of course!" said the Intern, who hadn't gotten a B+ average in
"Omen Interpritation 312" for nothing.  He pulled out another module
from his jumpsuit and attached it to his Sonic Crowbar, altering its
function yet again.  "Let me use my Undue Divine Influence Detector (or
UDID) and check something!"
     "NO!!!!!!" shouted Natchwald, who leapt at the Intern.
     Fully calmly, the Intern swung his entire body into a jumping
circular roundhouse kick that slammed into the airbourne Natchwald, letting
out a collosal burp as his foot made contact with Natch's fragile bone
structure, shattering the majority of Natchwald's body and making him
fly into a half-broken Lite Beer billboard, knocking the truly abused
cannon fodder again unconsious.
     "He should know better than to attack a master of hyper-belcho,"
said the Intern.  "But boy, does that stuff give me massive gas!"
     "Get on with it," said Radar, "use the detector!"
     The intern made a few adjustments, and the UDID began to softly
play "Highway to Hell."
     "Yup, both Muck-Luck and Natchwald are being controlled subliminally
by Satan."
     "Can we cure them?"
     "'Fraid not, that would take a Paladin, or a Holy being." the Intern
said, fully unaware of the Paladin just seventy feet to the north-east
of him, climbinmg into his van.
     "YUou know more of what's going on than you admit," said Radar, looking
a bit stern."
     "Yes," he admitted, "but I could voice none of my fears around
Natchwald, who I didn't trust.  Come, let's away in the TARDIS, and we
can plan our next move while I fill you in."
     Thje two stepped into the TARDIS, where they stopped dead in their
tracks and stared.
     "H'lo," Turdy said, sitting on the floor and looking really seriously
dazed.
     "I take it you're a recent modification to the design," the Intern
said.

IS TRUDY A RECENT ADDITION TO THE DESIGN?
WILL RADAR PUT UP WITH A MOSTLY NAKED DR. WHO BUFF ON HER FIANCE'S
    TARDIS?
HOW WILL SATAN RECAT TO THE ABYSMAL FAILURE OF HIS AGENTS?
WILL MUCK-LUCK BE AS PISSED AS WE THINK HE WILL BE?
WILL THE INTERN, RADAR, AND MAYBE EVEN TRUDY FIND LINDA (AND
    THEREFORE MATT) AND ACTUALLY FURTHER THIS HEAVILY CONVULUTED
    PLOT ALONG FOR ONCE?

The answers, my friend, Are Blowin' in SFSTORY, the answers are blowing
in SFSTORY.....!

***** Entry appended 19:31 on Sat, 04/09/88 by enll6ac at bostonu   # 139 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     Wherin Matt and Linda's NEXT trouble begins
From:        Eric, Lord Sabre |-}---------- (enll6ac at bostonu)

     Matt and Linda walked along, merrily whitling Gilbert and Sulliven
tunes, mostly from memory and mostly due to Linda's suggestion, as Matt
didn't actually know any Gilbert and Sulliven and didn't really like
them.  Unfortunatly, Matt asked his omniscient computer account to
supply him whith the notes, which lead to some of the most peculiar
harmonies ever encountered, with the exception of the "music" produced
by the absolutly horrid nasty killer deathbeetles from Tampon VII.
     The coincidence of this has to be seen to be believed.
     "I'm glad it warmed up enough to travel," said Linda, thus letting
the reader know just why they aren't still hunched in their sleeping
bags next to one hundred and fifty burning New York Posts.
     "Yeah, now then, all I have to do is hook up with Andrew or
Kevin, or somebody, find a bank machine, and charter a flight back
to Boston pronto!"
     "Can you afford to charter a flight?"
     "Sure, I'm president of Danielson hall, we're rolling in
dough!  I'll just do a little, er, sifting about of the funds and
we'll be on our way back in time for my 10 pm tutoring session!"
Matt, not knowing that his bank, Danielson Hall, Boston University,
and indeed all of Boston is currently in a bit of a state of disrepair,
continued to dream his dreamy little dreams.
     Then, a noise sounding vaguly reminisent of a very large sort
of badly tuned chainsaw ripping through a small, suberbian school
perked up behind them.  Turning and whipping out their Nukers, the
two paladins saw a bright yellow jeep, being dirven by a large man in
black, wearing sunglasses, with the sort of smile on his face normally
seen on serious psychotics in low budget movies.  "Hi!" he rasped and
belched in exactly the sort of way your mother would have disapproved of.
"I'm Sick!  You two want a RIDE????!!!!!"
     "You're...sick?" asked Linda, who despite her good nature avoided
people like this like she avoided rancid dogs who were trying to eat her.
     "That's the name!  You going to FORT KENT????!!!!!!  THAT hell-hole?
HELL!!!!  Hop in!"
     "Now now," Matt said, flustered and unsure weather or not to blast
Sick, "Fort Kent's a wonderful little town.  Why, its got trees and clean
air and nice people and--"
     Sick interuppted with a biological noise.  "Look, you two can walk
or ride...and I don't recommend WALKING!"
     "It's less than five miles away!"
     "Yup...and four of those miles are usually under the Fish River!
Choice is yours!!!!!!!"
     High in the atmosphere, the sleek deadly starcrusiers locked onto
the most advanced technology on the miserable little planet.  Homing
in on it, it began to desend....
     Back on Earth, around five minutes after we last saw them, Matt
and Linda were huddled for protection in the back of the jeep.
Both *were* very impressed with the jeep's ability, though.  It had
so far gone through trees, bushes, small animals, large animals,
and water over thirty feet deep without so much as slowing down.  They
were going around eighty, and were fast approaching the small town
of Fort Kent, Maine.
     Sick drove the jeep straight through the first two houses he
saw, then pulled over and let them off.
     "You have a GOOD old time, Mett-heeeew!  Hey, Chesty!  Nice meeting
you!"
     He drove away, causing more property damage as he went.
     Linda sighed.  "Are they all like that around here?"
     "No, most of them are pretty nice.  I've never seen anything like
THAT before in my life!"
     Several miles away, Sick was still carreening around in his
BIG jeep, when a light flashed.  "Dammit!" he said, "just get used
to a planet and the damn Nasty Killer Deathbeetles from Tampon IV
lock onto my hyperadvanced technology and come to destroy the place!
Hypergfarts!"  With that, Sick reassummed his quintaped natural form,
engaged his hypertemporal indestrucajeep's drive, and winked away.
     The sleek, destructive machines, all manned (actually 'bugged')
by Nasty Killer Deathbeetles from Tampon IV, didn't notice their prey's
departure, as they were far far far too excited and bloodthirsty
with the prospect of completly destroying a planet, starting in this,
this...FORT KENT!!!!!!!!!!!
     Of course, Matt and Linda knew nothing of this....

WILL MATT AND LINDA SURVIVE THE ASSULT OF THE NASTY KILLER DEATHBEETLES
      FROM TAMPON IV (OR NKDFTIV FOR SHORT)?
WILL FORT KENT SURVIVE IT?
WILL SICK EVER STOP ACTING AS BAIT AND DESTROYING PLANETS?
WILL WE EVER GIVE UP THE PRACTICE OF THIS NEEDLESS HYPERBOLE?

No answers of no sort will not be not answered in the not entery of
NOT SFSTORY CSNOTICE!!!!!!! (not coming to a not-theatre near no one)

***** Entry appended 22:46 on Sat, 04/09/88 by enll6ac at bostonu   # 140 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     Wherein a new storyline begins....
From:        Patrick McCoy (enldc8c at bostonu)

     Meanwhile, somewhere that isn't quite here and certainly not there,
a small, furry mauve creature sat pondering. He was so engrossed in his
pondering that he did not seem to notice a rather large, puke-brown lump
of what could be best described as a psychodellic hallucination gone very,
very, very wrong. What was the most wrong is that this was quite ready to
ooze over the small, cute, mauve, seemingly unsuspecting and defenseless
creature and eat him up (yum).
     At the last possible moment, however, this very small being
flipped up and over the slime, inspiring several oohs and ahhs from the
nearby rock formations and, in mid-air, produced what appeared to be
a shotgun scalled down to his size. This was no normal shotgun,
however, it was a sci-fi shotgun which is basically a 20th century
shotgun with a lot of extra lights, buttons, and assorted
thingamajiggies that make it look infinitly more complex.
    When the small, furry, cute, mauve creature fired it, though,
it had much the same effect as a shotgun as it blasted the puke beast
into several billion pieces and put a serious dent in the ledge as well.
     Of course, it was far more spectacular than a normal shotgun blast
as this is a sci-fi story with a lot of pyrotechnic stuff. The end
result, however, as I just said, was the same.
     Normally, in most other plotlines, the main character would
threaten the author in order to get him to move on. Not so here, for
this character is somewhat different. Just at this moment, a fungoid
tetrapod, who was watching the scene, approached the mauve being to
ask more about him as a way for the aouthor to introduce his character
in a more literary fashion.
     "Wow," said the fungoid tetrapod sounding real impressed, "That
was amazing! Who and what are you?"
     "My name," said the mauve being calmly, "is Tachi. As to what I
am, I simply am."
     "You are?"
     "Yes, I am?"
     "But what type of being?"
     "I am...that is my state of being."
     "Are you? How?"
     "I am fine, and yourself?"
     "What?"
     "Oops, sorry. I heard you backwards."
     "Oh, I see. Quite alright. How did you do that stunt?"
     "Ah...I see what you are asking now! Well, I am a student of Zen.
I study Zen and through the art of the sci-fi shotgun."
     "Ooohhh," responded the fungoid tetrapod as fungoid tetrapods are
easilly impressed and he had just come across something impressive.
     "And who are you?" asked Tatchi.
     "I am Bert. I'm just your normal fungoid tetrapod."
     "There is nothing wrong with that," responded Tachi, replacing the
sci-fi shotgun in it's shoulder holster. "I sense an adventure is
in the making. Would you care to join me?"
     "Yea!" responded Bert enthusiastically. "But how do you know that
an adventure is comming?"
     "We wouldn't be here otherwise, would we?"
     "That's true," said Bert thoughtfully. "What will we need?"
     "Let us go to your house, gather your things, and go. All I own
I carry with me."
     "I own nothing," said Bert, somewhat dejected.
     "It is better to travel light, my friend."
     Bert smiled as the two walked down the hill towards what was, of
course, adventure.


WHAT ADVENTURE LIES AHEAD FOR TACHI AND BERT?
CAN YOU REALLY PRACTICE ZEN AND THE ART OF THE SCI-FI SHOTGUN?
CAN YOU REALLY TAKE A 3' 2" MAUVE, FURRY THING AND A 6' 2" MOLD
     SERIOUSLY?

FOR ANSWERS TO THESE AND MORE, STAY TUNED TO SPACEBALLS II: THE
     SEARCH FOR MORE MONEY!!!

***** Entry appended 22:56 on Sat, 04/09/88 by enldc8c at bostonu   # 141 *****
=========================================================================
Subject:     The next new character is here...
From:        Patrick McCoy (enldc8c at bostonu)

     When we last left the newest heroes of this space saga, they
were walking down a path from where Tachi had just obliterated a
semi-intelligent puke beast with his sci-fi shotgun (of which he is
a Zen Master) and befriendes Bert the rather ordinary fungoid tetrapod.
     As they continued down the path, discussing Zen and its possible
applications to the art of picking up women, the saw what looked like
a large rocket landing on the surface of the planet.
     "Wow," said Bert, "That's a ship design I haven't seen before."
Granted, Bert had never actually seen a starship before, but if he had,
odds are it wouldn't have looked like this.
     "Nor have I," added Tachi who had seen starships before, but had
not seen a ship that looked like this actually before him.
     "Wait!" calmly interjected Tachi, "I recall seeing one in a sci-fi
cataloge someplace, but that model hasn't been in popular use in 30 to
40 years. This is most peculiar."
     As the pair cautiously approached the rocket, part of the fuselage
began to fold out of the ship, forming a gangway to the inside. At the
top of the gangway stood an elderly gentleman who, despite his years,
stood very straight with his chest out. He was wearing an electric blue
jumpsuit with shiney gold buttons and eppiletts with a nice stripe
running down the side of each leg (also gold). He wore a leather belt
and holster from which he drew a laser pistol that looked a lot like
a Lugar with some neat buttons and lights. Fluttering in the breeze
was a gold, half length cape. To complete the outfit, he had a funky
blue and gold helmet with a crest along the top which seemed to have
no real purpose whatsoever.
     His face, while somewhat whizened, was still handsome and a neatly
trimmed silver-grey mudtache and goatee. His blue eyes flashed as he
addressed the pair.
     "Hi!"
     Tachi responded for the pair as Bert was currently being overwhelmed
by the display.
     "Hello. I am Tachi, the enlightened master of the sci-fi shotgun
and this is my friend and companion Bert the ordinary fungoid tetrapod.
Whom do I have the honor of meeting?"
     "I," said the man who, although beyond his prime, exuded an aura
of heroism mot yet seen in this story, "am Space Commander Buzz
Williams, Professor Emeritus of Interstellar University's Space Heroics
Department."
     Tachi was now as impressed as Bert usually is. Bert was nearing
the point of death by impression.
     "What brings you here?" asked Tachi as Bert made a small gurgulling
noise that only an extreemly impressed fungoid tetrapod can make.
     "Well," Buzz responded as he walked down the gangplank, "I am on
sabbatical doing some independent research on how different the space
hero has become due to overdiversification and speciallization in the
department when I recieved an emergency call from the space heroics
department chair asking for assistance in the location of Mark Hyperthrust.
      His assignment for his current term was to find at least one
damsel-in-distress (DID) and undertake a quest to aid her. He left
unexpectedly durring emergency jump to light speed practice (EJ to LS)
to begin his assignment. The administration, in its infinite wisdom,
decided that this stealing of the practice ship, the HMS Goodguy, was
unacceptable. I argued on his behalf as the appropriation of needed
material, while in the field, is a vital skill and because he didn't
seem to be the type to specialize. The administration didn't heed my
advice and dispached the Intern, a Grad Student, to try to recover
Hyperthrust and the HMS Goodguy. Since his departure, at which point
I left on sabbatical as a protest to research my point, The Intern
has reported that Something Big Is Going Down (SBIGD) and that the
Goodguy had been obliterated. It was at this point that I recieved a
call from the president and he said that I was the only one who could
possibly retrieve Hyperthrust and Save The Day (STD)." He sighed. "Just
like the good ol' days."
     "Anyway," he said after a whistful pause, "I decided to set down
here on Ccaub-5 to scout the area and find some traveling companions."
     "OH WOW! GEE WHIZ!" shouted Bert so overwhelmed that he wet his
loincloth which was constructed in such a way as to not display such
accidents.
     The elderly hero smiled. "If you would honor me so."
     "YES! YES! We can, can't we, Tachi? Huh? Huh? Can't we?"
     Tachi stood calmly, eyes half closed and looking at the ground.
     "Yes," he said, "This is the adventure I spoke of."
     "How do you know?" asked Buzz who already had been briefed on the
basic plot line.
     "Because I am enlightened."
     "Oh," responded Buzz, impressed at the mauve creature's composure.
     "Well, let's grab some supplies from this plannet and go."
     Following getting some water and fuel, the trio departed for deep
space at high speed.

WHERE ARE THE NEW HEROES HEADED?
WHAT ARE THEIR PLANS?
WHY DOES SPACE COMMANDER BUZZ WILLIAMS DRESS THE WAY HE DOES?
WHO WILL REACH MARK HYPERTHRUST FIRST, THE INTERN OR SPACE COMMANDER
     BUZZ WILLIAMS?
WILL *EITHER* EVER REACH MARK HYPERTHRUST?

For the answers to these and other exciting questions, stay tuned to
PIGS IN SPACE!

***** Entry appended 14:38 on Sun, 04/10/88 by enldc8c at bostonu   # 142 *****