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Sfstory Log 061
=========================================================================
Date: Tue, 23 Mar 1993 22:05:00 EST
Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
From: mass confusion (SWEDE at DRYCAS.CLUB.CC.CMU.EDU)
Subject: SF: Renegade Anarchists II episode seven
RENEGADE ANARCHISTS II: THE UNDISCOVERED SPAM
Episode Seven: "Bata Up" by Gary W. Olson
"I found her!" Lark Purree exclaimed. He held up a small, mirrored
globe to the dim light that was being generated by a lamp on a nearby table
in the storage room. Gham, Katayin, and Benchen gathered around to look at
it.
"Not very big," Benchen commented. "How can someone fit in there?"
"Very easily," Lark said. "Unfortunately, this body casing has been
totally depowered. What's more, it's maneuvering jets have been dismantled,
it's processing buffers have been buffed, and there are dishwater spots
everywhere. The higher memory looks to be intact, so if I can find a drone
body somewhere...ah, there!" Lark Purree, also known as Time Agent 90210,
strode over to an even dimmer corner of the dim room and dragged a bulky,
rusty lump out of the corner. "A bit obsolete, but it has data transfer
and framelink capabilities. It will take a few minutes to download all the
files."
"Do you think they've found the bodies yet?" Gham asked.
"They can't have," Lark said. "I followed standard Time Agent procedure
for hiding the presence of dead bodies: I put empty beer bottles in their
hands and lampshades on their heads. No one will bother 'em until morning."
Suddenly and without warning, a jarring alarm sounded out.
"Damn!" Lark exclaimed. "I must have forgotten to reattach their heads
before I put the lampshades on."
"What will we do?" Katayin asked.
"Watch the door," Lark instructed. "They'll be expecting us to be
attempting to escape, so they won't be looking in here, so we should be safe
for a while."
Suddenly and without warning, there was a loud knock on the door. A
mechanized voice shouted, "We know you're in there! Come out with your
hands up!"
"Then again..."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Three masters of unarmed death-dealing headed up the ramp of the Red Emma,
and looked around. The ship was in darkness, save for a light at the end of
a corridor, shining from the ceiling. They signaled to the Tessier army
commander below and proceeded down the corridor.
Presently, they arrived at a ladder, and started climbing. Within
moments, they arrived on the bridge, though it more resembled a bridge/rec
room/lounge sort of place. The Cure's "Pornography" was playing softly from
the numerous stereo speakers around the room, and near the far wall, in one
of the couches, sat Robert Smith.
Well, slumped would be more accurate. He was not looking at them,
rather seeming to be contemplating the ceiling, which was dotted with the
telltale remains of pepperoni, beer, dairy products, catnip, and hair spray.
"Watch this," one of the masters of unarmed death-dealing said to his
fellow masters of unarmed death-dealing. He slipped stealthily across the
room, staying out of Robert's peripheral vision range, moving as silent as
the night, with the speed of a demon. His hand flashed down towards Robert's
head, with a blow that would surely split it open.
At that moment, Robert sat up and turned to see the other two masters of
unarmed death-dealing. The attacking master of unarmed death-dealing missed,
his hand slicing into the couch. He tried to pull it out, only to find that
he was stuck.
"Oh, hello," Robert said, in a depressed sort of voice. "Listen, I'm
too depressed to lock you up, so if you could sort of lock yourselves up or
something, please do."
"I'm stuck!" the master of unarmed death-dealing with his hand stuck in
the couch said.
"Oh, I didn't see you there," Robert said, turning to the master of
unarmed death-dealing with his hand stuck in the couch. "How depressing.
You seem to have taken care of subduing yourself, though."
"Why, you..." the master of unarmed death-dealing with his hand stuck in
the couch started. He tried to swing his foot towards Robert, with the
intent of delivering a death-dealing blow to Robert's sternum, but due to the
unusual amounts of clutter on the floor (various educational brochures from
Barbados, Planet of Physical Delights; some of Tane Tessiers' unpublished
songs; assorted marbles and pizza boxes), he slipped and ended up in a very
compromising position, with his feet a yard and a half apart and sprawled
half on the couch, half on the floor, unable to regain his footing due to
the aforementioned clutter.
"Help!" he exclaimed. "I'm a master of unarmed death-dealing and I can't
get up!"
"You must be very depressed," Robert told him.
At that point, the other two masters of unarmed death-dealing decided to
attack Robert simultaneously. They skipped the bit about moving stealthily
and all that, and just lunged at him with merciless force. Robert, at that
moment, suddenly noticed that the CD in the CD player had stopped playing,
and stepped away from the couch and over to the CD player. The masters of
unarmed death-dealing sailing through the air hit the wall with such force
that they punctured it, and ended up wedged half in one room and half in the
next, their arms held securely by the rest of the wall.
"Now, about you two...oh, I see you've taken care of things," Robert said.
"Well, this is rather depressing. Now I'll have to find somewhere else to
sit." The master of unarmed death-dealing with his hand stuck in the couch and
his legs spread in a compromising fashion struggled, but to no avail. The
masters of unarmed death-dealing wedged in the wall started to complain that
they had gotten incredible wedgies from their ill thought-out attack. Robert
sighed.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Bata," Emma Goldman began. "We, or at least most of us present, are the
Renegade Anarchists, and we're searching for..."
"The Omnidean, I know," Bata said, harrumphing. "Just like I told the
others - I want nothing to do with that. He ruined me, you know. I was just
one point - one measly little point, mind you - from passing the test for my
own omniscience account. And I missed the question because the Omnidean
influenced me with subliminal messages to answer incorrectly."
"What was the question?" Shadebeam asked.
"'How many doctors out of five recommend Trident?'" Bata said. "I
answered 'three'."
"Three?" Slithis asked. "It's four! Everyone knows that."
"Stop it!" Bata demanded. "That's all I ever hear from everyone. That's
why, after years of searching, I finally learned where the Omnidean was hiding.
I went to this place, only to find that he wasn't there, anywhere. And there
was absolutely no way he could be anywhere else, either. So, I came here,
to Parafeit Minor, and made a home in the Hentai Quarter, and started drinking
heavily. I'm not interested in starting another fool quest to find him."
"Not even to stop the perpetuation of Spam Lite on an unsuspecting
galaxy?" James(mclxvii) asked.
"Not even...Spam Lite, did you say?" Bata shivered briefly. "No, not
even Spam Lite."
"We can pay you," Jerriphrrt said.
"I have enough money to keep me thoroughly soaked in intoxicating
beverages for the rest of my days," Bata said.
"We can introduce you to exotic women on Barbados who consider drunk
geniuses to be incredibly erotic," Tarrfel told him.
"The same can be found here," Bata countered. "Of course, most of them
are animated, but it's close enough."
"I could sing for you," Tane Tessier suggested. Bata's eyes lit up.
"Tane Tessier?" he asked. "THE Tane Tessier? In my underground hideout?
Oh my oh my here have some wine oh I'm sorry allow me to introduce myself I'm
Bata er I mean my name is Bata or they call me Bata well you know..."
"Ahem," Emma said.
"He's on Kookamonga IX," Bata said. "You'll need for me and my guard to
come along, of course. Only I, among non-omniscients, can possibly outwit
Bata. I say, Ms. Tessier, I'm one of your biggest fans..."
"Do tell," Shadebeam said, pointing her finger in her mouth.
"Bata!" Alexander Berkman exclaimed, rushing into the room. "We've been
found!"
"What?" Bata roared. "Impossible! No one could possibly see through
the elaborate disguise to the secret enterance."
Large amounts of laser fire ripped through the underground passage.
"Then again..."
---------------------------------------------------------------------
"Sir!" a tech said. "We're getting a report from Megabot!"
"Excellent!" Bob/James(xxiii) exclaimed. "What's he say?"
"He's got the Renegade Anarchists pinned down in Bata's hideout," the
tech reported. "There's absolutely no way they can escape this time."
"He's sure of that," Bob said.
"Absolutely, beyond a shred of doubt," the tech said, reading from
the screen.
"Very well," Bob said. "Keep me posted."
"Sir!"
"What?"
"I'm getting a report from the leader of the squad we sent to subdue
the Red Emma. Apparantly, he sent some masters of unarmed death-dealing
into the ship to kill this 'Robert Smith', after tricking him into lowering
the gangway..."
"How much does a gang weigh?" another tech asked.
"What?" Bob asked.
"Apparantly, the masters of unarmed death-dealing have yet to come out.
What's more, the gangway has lifted up again, and the defense systems have
been reactivated."
"Very well, we'll wait him out," Bob said.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Meanwhile, on Planet Karma Chameleon II, a door burst open, and a dozen
heavily armed mecha-armored soldiers stormed in, weapons at ready.
"Uh, where are they?" one of them finally asked, upon finding no one
in sight.
"The movement sensors were tripped for this room," the lead mech said.
"That means they must be in here. Somewhere."
Just then, a bulky, rusty lump lurched forward, and was very nearly
annihilated by several mechs.
"How may I serve you?" it's corroded speech synthesizers screeched.
"Huh," the lead mech said. "One of the old mechs must have accidentally
reactivated. I told the techs to remove the wiring, but do they listen to
a little soldier? Hell no..."
"Come on," another mech said. "They're probably in the jungle by now.
If we hurry, we can catch up to the others."
"Right," the lead mech said, turning and leading the others out. The
door slid shut behind them, and all was silent again. Finally...
"Okay, you can come out now," the rusty, ambulatory lump said. Lark
Purree, Gham, Katayin, and Benchen got out from their hiding places. "Lark,
couldn't you have picked a better body for me?"
"I was in a pinch, BRENDA," Lark replied. "Now, quickly, interface with
the InterNet."
"I'm only doing this because I love you, Dylan," BRENDA said, ambling
over to the computer socket, extending an old manual jack from her new body.
Gham giggled as Lark turned a bit redder.
"Accessing," BRENDA reported. "I have connection. Have encountered
pass sentinel structure. Password required."
"Um...Interplanet rules," Katayin suggested.
"Not valid," BRENDA said.
"We love Donald Trump," Benchen suggested.
"Not valid," BRENDA answered. "If the next guess is inaccurate, the
whole system will be closed off, and we'll be instantly pinpointed."
"Geez, this sucks," Lark grumbled.
"Password accepted," BRENDA reported. "I have complete access to
the system-wide InterNet. Awaiting your queries."
"Excellent," Lark commented.
IS IT EXCELLENT?
WILL LARK FIGURE OUT WHAT IS GOING ON?
WILL THE RENEGADE ANARCHISTS BE CAPTURED BY MEGABOT?
WILL THEY GET TO KOOKAMONGA IX?
WHAT WILL ROBERT SMITH DO WITH THREE MASTERS OF UNARMED DEATH-DEALING?
WILL HE PUT IN ANOTHER CD?
ALL THIS AND SOMETHING ELSE I HAVE YET TO MAKE UP ON AN UPCOMING...SFSTORY!
=========================================================================
Date: Wed, 31 Mar 1993 01:11:00 EST
Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
From: mass confusion (SWEDE at DRYCAS.CLUB.CC.CMU.EDU)
Subject: SF: Renegade Anarchists II episode eight
SPAMBO: RENEGADE ANARCHISTS PART II
Episode Eight: "Kookamonga Bound" by Gary W. Olson
"Hey, don't look at my cards!"
"Well, tilt them up then!"
"Hey, it ain't easy talking and holding my cards with my teeth!"
Robert Smith sighed, listening to the two masters of unarmed death-
dealing who were wedged into the wall. After they had whined endlessly,
which depressed him a lot, he gave them a pack of cards. Since their arms
were firmly wedged against their bodies by the wall they were intersected
with, they had to use their teeth.
The third unarmed master of death-dealing slept, snuggled against one
of the pillows on the couch, his arm still firmly stuck in said couch, and
not likely to become unstuck anytime soon. Robert pondered the whole
depressing scene, and came to a decision.
He picked up a board, and placed it across the protruding butts of the
masters of unarmed death-dealing. This seemed to alarm them greatly.
"Hey!" one of them said. "No spankings!"
"Well, maybe one," the other said.
Robert put a potted plant atop the board, and a few of the notebooks
and pizza boxes.
"Ow!" one of the masters of unarmed death-dealing whined. "He bit me!
Hey! You listening out there! Make him stop!"
"I'm not touching you!" the other master of unarmed death-dealing
taunted. "Does this bug you? I'm not touching you!" Robert finally gave
up on trying to beautify the place and slid under some of the rubble to
be properly depressed about it.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
"Isn't there some other way out of here?" Emma Goldman yelled into
Bata's ear.
"Afraid not," Bata said. "There used to be, but I made it into a
breakfast nook." Laser fire blasted overhead, and the Anarchists and friends
saw Megabot advancing towards the doorway, victory gleaming in it's single
crimson eye. Arrayed around it, well-armored soldiers fired through the
enterance.
"We're done for!" Jerriphrrt groaned.
"Not yet," Tane Tessier said, standing. The soldiers abruptly stopped
firing, recognizing the person who was, technically, their employer. She
started singing softly, as articles of clothing fell from her body. The
soldiers watching dropped their laser rifles and stared. Megabot hovered
lower and lower as the song progressed.
"She's singing a lullabye," Slithis whispered, as they watched Megabot's
crimson eye grow dimmer and dimmer. The soldiers, meanwhile, had dropped
to their knees and had rather stunned looks on their faces.
"Quickly!" Tarrfel hissed. "While they're distracted! Let's go!"
"Right!" Benchen said. "Come on, old man." He paused, looking at Bata,
who had a look of worship on his face. "Hey! Mr. Almost Omniscient! Come
on! Damn. Gimme a hand, Shadebeam."
"What do I look like, a forklift?" Shadebeam replied. Nevertheless,
she grabbed Bata's arms, while Benjen lifted Bata's legs, and together they
carted the protesting wise guy around the salivating soldiers and out of
the room, followed by Emma Goldman, Alexander Berkman, Jerriphrrt, Slithis,
Tarrfel t'Krodkzik, James(mclxvii) and James(xiv).
Tane finished her song and quietly tiptoed around the sleeping
Megabot and the soldiers, who had passed out.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
"Accessing map of the compound," BRENDA intoned, the rusty speech
sythesizers in her new body making the voice grate. "There are three ships
that are in condition for immediate blastoff. I can shut down the security
grid, which will give us ten minutes to get to the closest."
"Good," Lark Purree said. "First, though, let's not ignore this
opportunity. Can you access the confidential files."
"Affirmative," BRENDA answered.
"Why is Megacorp mining styling gel from this planet?" Gham asked.
"Accessing," BRENDA said. "Interplanet has been contracted by an
outside agency to procure the styling gel."
"Contracted?" Lark asked. "That's unusual. Gotta be a pretty big
player that can hire a company like Interplanet. Who's the buyer?"
"That information is not available," BRENDA said. "All that is
known is that the gel is delivered to planet Kookamonga IX on a weekly
basis. The gel is left in a warehouse in the capital city of Kabulka,
and is paid for by credit transfer from a secure account."
"Is one of the gel-ships due to leave soon?" Lark asked.
"What are you planning?" Katayin inquired.
"Checking," BRENDA said. "There is one, the IP Like The Wind, due
to leave in twenty minutes from the west platform."
"We'll take it," Lark said.
"Lark, are you nuts?" Benchen asked. "It's a freighter ship! It'll
be unarmed - we'll be defenseless if they figure out where we went and
decide to blast us away!"
"Relax, I'm a Time Agent," Lark said. "BRENDA, can you access the
mining control CPU?"
"Yes," BRENDA said.
"Put the mine shaft drilling beam into controlled overload," Lark
instructed. "That should provide plenty of distraction and allow us
to slip aboard unnoticed."
"But, Lark--" BRENDA started.
"I don't have time to argue, BRENDA," Lark said. "Do it, and hurry!"
"Ok, it's done," BRENDA answered. "I'll meet you there."
"What--?" Lark asked. The rusty lump of metal that had housed
BRENDA went totally dead. "Great. Now's not the time to go roaming
around a hostile data network."
"Let's go," Gham said. "She must have a plan."
"Hang on," Lark said. He subvocalized instructions to his sideburns,
and his SageWare Defense-Master 7.0 software kicked in.
((Look ouuu--oh. Hello. Did we survive the crash?))
"That's right," Lark said.
((See, I knew I'd get us through it.))
"Just guide us to the gel ship, okay?"
((Gel ship? Oh, that gel ship. I don't think you'll like it.))
"I wasn't asking if I'd like it."
((Eh. Well, you're the boss. The customer is always right.))
"Who are you talking to?" Katayin asked.
"Nevermind," Lark said. "It'd take too long to explain. Let's book."
---------------------------------------------------------------
"You...let...her...do...what?!?"
"It wasn't our fault," the soldier on the view-screen protested. "She
started singing, and removing her clothes, and, well, we sort of...um...
passed out."
"Well, you morons I understand, but Megabot?" Bob/James(xxiii)
Megabot hovered nearby, looking somewhat dazed and sheepish.
"Never mind," Bob sighed. "I don't want to know. Just catch them,
okay?"
"Right!" the soldier said, saluting. "We'll get on it! Come on, men!"
Bob signaled, and the screen went blank.
"Enough of this," Bob said. "Send the order out to the fleet. Prime
the KrustBuster Ray, and blow this planet the hell up."
"But sir...!" a tech protested. "Isn't that unethical?"
"Well, sort of," Bob admitted.
"Okay, just checking," the tech said, turning to implement his order.
----------------------------------------------------------------
"Hey, look, all the guards just started running from the ship!"
Shadebeam hissed. "Now's our chance!"
"You can put me down now," Bata protested. Shadebeam and Benjen
ignored him and carted him across the landing bay to the ship.
"Robert!" Emma called through the comm-link. "Lower the gangway!"
She waited. There was no reply. "Robert!"
Finally, a voice came over the intercom. "I'm sorry, but I'm too
depressed to accept any visitors right now. Leave your name and number at
the sound of the depresed sigh, and I'll get depressed thinking about you.
(sigh)."
"Great," Slithis grumbled. "Oh well, at least the soldiers are off
our backs. We can probably wait him out." Suddenly and without warning, laser
fire echoed across their heads, and the Anarchists were forced to hide behind
landing struts.
"They've found us!" Alexander shouted.
"Very perceptive of you," Tarrfel shouted back. "Now start firing!"
"Let me try singing again," Tane said. A laser bolt hit the ground in
front of her, and she staggered back, hitting her head against a protrusion
from the Red Emma. Suddenly, a different look welled up in her eyes.
"What'll we...aaack!" Slithis choked, as Tane started strangling him.
"Now I have you!" she shrieked. "Where's the Eiffel Thing?"
"Great, she's reverted to her old personality," Jerriphrrt groaned.
"What else could go wrong?"
"ATTENTION!" a loudspeaker voice announced. "THIS IS A PLANETARY
EVACUATION NOTICE! THE PLANET WILL BE BLOWN UP IN APPROXIMATELY FIVE MINUTES!
THIS IS NOT A DRILL! EVACUATE AT ONCE!" The voice paused. "LET ME REPHRASE
THAT. LEAVE THE PLANET AT ONCE! EVACUATE LATER! THANK YOU AND FLY SAFELY!"
"Never mind," Jerriphrrt sighed, as Benjen and James(mclxvii) tried to
pry Tane from Slithis' neck.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
"This way," Lark whispered, his sideburns augmenting his senses,
brightening the darkened passageway to daylight levels. Katayin, Benchen, and
Gham followed, hiding in the shadows as phlanaxes of troops stormed by.
Finally, they reached the west platform.
The IP Like The Wind was a huge freighter, looming almost a full mile
above them. Huge vats of styling gel were being lifted by hoverlift into huge
gaping openings in the hull. The loading was almost done, apparantly, and
the fueling and maintainance techs had already withdrawn. There was just
one problem.
"Where the hell is the ramp?" Gham asked.
"Well?" Lark asked.
((Um...))
"Just as I thought," Lark sighed. "What else could go wrong?"
"ATTENTION!" a loudspeaker voice announced. "THIS IS A PLANETARY
EVACUATION NOTICE! THIS PLANET WILL BLOW UP IN APPROXIMATELY FIVE MINUTES,
BECAUSE SOME IDIOT PUT THE MINING SHAFT DRILL BEAM INTO CONTROLLED OVERLOAD,
AND IT'S BEAMING UNSTABLE ENERGY INTO THE PLANETARY CORE!" The voice
paused. "I WOULD ALSO LIKE TO ANNOUNCE THAT I'M A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT
ANNOUNCER THAN THE ONE IN THE LAST SCENE!"
"Never mind," Lark said. "We've got to get on this ship, and fast!"
"Going somewhere?" a mechanical voice asked. Lark, Benchen, Gham, and
Katayin looked up, up, and still up further at the menacing, armored
warrior drone that towered over them.
"Us?" they asked, smiling weakly.
WILL LARK GET KILLED BEFORE GETTING BLOWN UP, OR THE OTHER WAY AROUND?
WHAT'S WITH THE SUDDEN, IMPENDING PLANETARY CARNAGE?
IS IT A SIGN OF HIDDEN AGGRESSIVE TENDENCIES IN THE AUTHOR?
OR DOES HE JUST LIKE TO BLOW UP THINGS?
WILL MEGABOT EVER DO ANYTHING RIGHT?
WILL TANE TESSIER STRANGLE SLITHIS?
WHAT AWAITS THEM ALL ON KOOKAMONGA IX, ASSUMING THEY DON'T GET BLOWN INTO
TINY LITTLE BITS?
ALL THIS AND RANDOM ACTS OF VIOLINS ON AN UPCOMING...SFSTORY!
=========================================================================
Date: Tue, 6 Apr 1993 21:30:00 EDT
Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
From: he tried to kill him with a forklift
(SWEDE at DRYCAS.CLUB.CC.CMU.EDU)
Subject: SF: Renegade Anarchists II episode nine
RENEGADE ANARCHISTS II: THE SPAM CHAPTER
Episode Nine: "I Feel the Plot Move Under My Feet" by Gary W. Olson
"Four minutes!" Tarrfel announced, as laser fire shot over her head.
"What do we do now? The planet's about to be blown up!"
"Get her off of me, for starters!" Slithis yelled between gasps, as
Tane Tessier tightened her grip on his throat. Shadebeam hit her over the
head with her laser pistol, and Tane blinked.
"Did it work?" Tane asked. "Did my singing calm them down?" A laser
blast hit nearby, and Tane fell, hitting her head on the docking strut.
She blinked some more, and started choking Slithis again. Shadebeam sighed.
"We've got to get the landing ramp down," Emma said. "Try banging on
the hull!" They banged on the hull.
"Three minutes!" Tarrfel announced.
"I'm running low on power," Jerriphrrt purred, showing the charge
indicator on his battery pack.
"Hang on, I've got an idea," Benjen said. Using his stored bioenergy,
he shot lighting bolts into the hull of the ship. The defense systems
automatically activated, and shot at him. Bata pulled him out of the way
in the nick of time.
"You're lucky I knew that would happen," he said. Benjen glowered at
him.
Just then, the Red Emma's external speakers switched on. "Could you
keep it down?" a depressed sounding voice asked. "I'd like to be depressed
in peace."
"Robert, it's us!" Tarrfel shouted. "Lower the gangway!"
"Do I have to?" Robert asked. "I feel really depressed about things
right now."
"We know!" James(xiv) exclaimed. "The planet's about to blow up!"
"Now I'm *really* depressed..."
"Just open the damn ship!" James(mclxvii) shouted. Seconds later, the
landing ramp began to lower from the Red Emma. James(mclxvii) started for
the ramp, only to be hit by a laser beam and blown into itty bitty
synthezoid pieces. Beyond the ship, Megabot started bobbing up and down
happily, joyful that it had actually hit something. The rest of the
Anarchists and friends charged up the ramp safely. They climbed the ladder
and entered the bridge proper.
"Two minutes!" Tarrfel announced.
"Two minutes for what?" Robert asked.
"Till Parafeit Minor blows up!" Emma growled at him. She then stopped,
seeing two masters of unarmed death-dealing wedged into the bridge wall above
the couch acting as shelfholders, while a third master of unarmed death-
dealing snored loudly, his arm stuck in the couch.
"They surrendered," Robert said. "I was too depressed to decide what to
do with them, so they immobilized themselves."
"I see," Emma said, her head starting to hurt. "Never mind that, is the
ship ready to take off?"
"We're bringing the X Drive on line now!" Slithis said.
"What's the X Drive?" asked Alexander.
"Powered by unlicensed 'Malcom X' merchandise," Bata said.
"Oh," Alexander replied.
"One minute!" Tarrfel called.
"You can't power up the X Drive in a planetary atmosphere!" Jerriphrrt
protested. "We'll be blown all over the solar system!"
"Fifty seconds!"
"On the other hand," Jerriphrrt said. "The idea does have it's merits."
"Ship is secure," James(xiv) announced.
"Fourty!"
"Lifting off from the surface," Benjen said. "Looks like Megabot and
the soldiers are being transported off the surface."
"Thirty!"
"Twenty!"
"Ten!"
"Five!"
"Say, I just thought of an even better reason not to use the X Drive..."
began Jerriphrrt.
"Ignition!" Instantly, the Red Emma leapt into overly-hyped space, at
the exact same instant as the planet Parafeit Minor exploded, sounding a
lot like this: " ", mostly because sound doesn't travel in space. But
the explosion was rather keen.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
"Um, we surrender!" Lark Purree, Time Agent 90210, said to the huge,
armored guard drone that towered above him, Benchen, Gham, and Katayin.
"That's nice, dear," the drone answered. "Now hurry up! Grab a hold of
me and I'll lift you into the ship!"
Lark blinked. "BRENDA?" he asked.
"Who else?" BRENDA replied. "I had to get *something* better than that
disgusting rust bucket to deposit my files in. Unfortunately, this is only
slightly better. But it'll have to do."
((It's your only shot, kid,)) Lark's SageWare Defense-Master 7.0 software
told him. ((Take it.))
Sighing, Lark grabbed onto the drone's right leg, ignoring BRENDA's
reproduction of a sigh of pleasure. Gham took the left leg, while Benchen
and Katayin each took an arm. The drone started lifting up, towards the
enormous loading bay. The last tub of gel was already on it's way up, and
the loading bay doors were closing.
"My lifters aren't strong enough!" BRENDA exclaimed. "Too much weight!"
"Try to get to the gel-tub!" Lark called.
"I...think I can make it..." BRENDA said, forcing the straining lifters
to thrust faster. The gel-tub got closer and closer.
"What are you planning?" Katayin asked.
"Riding in with the cargo," Lark replied.
The gel-tub inched beneath them, as BRENDA guided the armored drone over
it. Huge, slowly sloshing waves of styling gel gurbled underneath them.
((This is just going to muck up everything, I can tell...))
The drone's lifters finally gave out, and the four plunged into the
vat of gel, which continued it's trip into the huge InterPlanet freghter, the
Like The Wind. The loading bay doors closed behind them, and the freighter
lifted off from the surface. By the time that Karma Chameleon II exploded,
it was well out of range.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
"Scanning," a tech said.
"Were they destroyed?" Bob/James(xxiii) asked.
"No ships matching the Red Emma's configuration lifted off from the
surface of the planet," the tech said. "They must have been completely
annihilated."
"Excellent!" Bob exclaimed. He got out his portable communicator and
flipped it open. A small screen displaying static soon resolved itself into
a face.
"Report," James(i) ordered.
"Success," Bob told his superior. "I just blew up Parafeit Minor, with
the Red Emma on it. They could not have escaped."
"You are wrong," James(i) said. "They have escaped."
"What?" Bob asked. "That cannot be!"
"The Red Emma escaped, and it is on it's way here, to Kookamonga IX,"
James(i) said. "The OmniDean orders you to stop it, whatever the cost. That
is all."
"Yes, sir!" Bob replied, as the image faded. He stared at the static a
little while, then flipped the comm shut and glared at Megabot. "You got one
of them, right?"
Megabot bobbed ecstatically, a sign Bob took to mean yes.
"What about the three masters of unarmed death-dealing that were
captured by the one called 'Robert Smith'?" a tech asked. "Do they still have
their tracking belts on?"
"I doubt it," Bob said. "Anyone clever enough to capture a master of
unarmed death-dealing would immediately remove that master's tracking belt,
else they'd face a hundred more!"
"I'm getting a signal, sir," another tech said. "It's from overly-hyped
space, and it matches the tracking belt signal. Only..."
"Only what?" Bob asked, annoyed.
"It's kind of weird," the tech finally said.
"Let me listen," Bob said. The tech turned up the audio.
"...I love you...you love me...we're a happy family..."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
"What is that sound?" Emma groaned, clamping her hands over her ears.
"I LOOOOVE YOOUUUUU..." Syrupy violin sounds accompanied the voice.
"I don't know!" Shadebeam whimpered. "Just make it stop! Please!"
"YOUUUU LOOOOVE MEEEEE..." The violins grew worse.
"It's an effect of blasting into overly-hyped space from the surface of
a planet that's blowing up!" Jerriphrrt exclaimed while trying to cover his
ears. "I tried to warn you! The molecular bondings of the ship have been
altered to act as a receiver/amplifier of 'Barney the Dinosaur' songs that
are being broadcast over sub-ether as acts of war!"
"WEEEEEERRREEE AAA HAAApppy faammmm...i...lll...erk."
"Fortunately, it fades within a few minutes," Jerriphrrt said. "I read
about it in 'People' magazine."
"Well, it's almost a certainty, then, that Bob was able to track us
away from the planet," Tane Tessier, back to her song diva persona, due to a
well placed blow to the head administered off-camera, said.
"I've set course for Kookamonga IX," Slithis said. "We should be
arriving in twelve hours. I suggest we get some sleep."
"Could you bring us some pillows?" one of the masters of unarmed death-
dealing who were stuck in the wall asked.
"Nope," Benjen answered.
"Drat," the other master of unarmed death-dealing said.
"I could have told you he'd say that," Bata said.
"Will you shut up?" Shadebeam asked. "That is so annoying!"
"I knew you'd say that," Bata replied. "I'm almost omniscient, you know."
"Arrrrgh!"
"She usually only makes that sound for me," Robert said. "How
depressing."
"ARRRRRRRGH!"
"Well, the couch is occupied," Alexander Berkman said, glancing at the
couch, which was partially occupied on one end by a trapped master of unarmed
death-dealing and on the other end by Slithis and Shadebeam, who had curled
up together. "Guess I'll have to find somewhere else to sleep."
"Not so fast," Emma said. "You still haven't told me how the hell you've
managed to survive over a century without ever going to Hell, lover."
"Oh, that," Alexander said. "It's kind of a long story."
"We have time," Tarrfel said.
"Allright, then..." Alexander said. "I'll tell you."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
"Gasp!" Lark Purree gasped, breaking through to the surface. Frantically,
he wiped gobs of styling gel from his face and eyes, and looked around. He
relaxed when he saw Gham, Benchen, Katayin, and the drone above the surface
of the gel.
"We saw the explosion through the transparasteel landing bay doors,"
Katayin said.
"I am sorry," Lark said.
"For what?" Gham asked.
"Well, for blowing up your planet and thereby killing every other member
of your race," Lark said.
"Oh, that," Benchen said. "Don't worry. You did the planet, and our
people, a favor. Better that they die than live as gutted chattel, twisting
in the wind at the mercy of a bizarre and invisible tormentor, whose base lust
for styling gel is matched only by his total ruthlessness and probable
tendencies towards having bad hair days of epic proportions. Um, so to speak."
"What will we do now?" Katayin asked.
"We're on our way to Kookamonga IX," Lark said. "We'll find whoever hired
InterPlanet to mine the styling gel there."
"Kookamonga IX..." Benchen mused. "Of course!"
"Of course what?" Lark asked.
"I know who's behind this!" Benchen announced.
DOES BENCHEN, IN FACT, KNOW WHO IS BEHIND THIS?
WILL THEY EVER GET THAT STYLING GEL OUT OF THEIR HAIR, NOT TO MENTION THEIR
CLOTHES?
WHAT WILL ALEXANDER REVEAL IN HIS ORIGIN?
WILL ANY MORE PLANETS BLOW UP?
ALL THIS AND UNNATURAL SAX ACTS ON AN UPCOMING...SFSTORY!
=========================================================================
Date: Wed, 14 Apr 1993 21:22:00 EDT
Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
From: he tried to kill him with a forklift (SWEDE at DRYCAS.BITNET)
Subject: SF: Renegade Anarchists II episode ten
RENEGADE ANARCHISTS II: A SPAM BEGINNING
Episode Ten: "Events Begin to Gel" by Gary W. Olson
"You mean you know who's behind this?" Gham asked, wiping a clump of
styling gel from her hair, not that it helped much, being as that she and
her companions were floating, sort of, in a huge vat of styling gel, one of
many billions of vats in the huge InterPlanet freighter Like The Wind,
which was carrying the gel to Kookamonga IX from the (now obliterated)
planet Karma Chameleon II.
"That's right!" Benchen said. "It has to be Cylla XIVb2ii(a), the AI we
met underneath the surface of the planet! Remember, Katayin?"
"I remember her," Katayin said. "She detected a menacing stellar
armada, and executed a self-defense program programmed into her by the
Preserves. Only, the program malfunctioned, and the women of the planet
ended up ballooning into huge giants, who threatened to use up all the
oxygen on the planet. Cylla diverted the underground bullet pod that Benchen,
myself, and the planet's acting Prelator Supreme were using, and simulated
the surface of Karma Chameleon II to lure Benchen and myself to where her
core drives were located. She apparantly was able to tap into our minds,
since she was able to produce not only a perfect image of the planet, but
a perfect image of you, Gham, whom we were seeking at the time. Anyway,
we activated the manual backup self-defense system, drove away the menacing
stellar armada, and saved the day. Strangely, after we returned to the
surface, no one could find the point where Cylla had abducted our bullet pod."
"Zzzzzzsssrrrrkkk..." Lark commented. BRENDA nudged him. Unfortunately,
as she was currently occupying a huge, menacingly armed drone who's joints
were currently lubed more than usual by styling gel, she connected and sent
him skittering a good ten feet.
"Ow!" Lark Purree, Time Agent 90210, groaned. "What was that for?"
"It's your line!" BRENDA hissed.
"Oh!" Lark said. "Um...well, I guess we'd better succeed where they
failed."
"Can we get out of this styling gel?" Gham asked, swimming (or more
accurately, sludging, being as the gel was a bit firmer than water) over
to Lark. "My hair feels like a lead weight, and it's all in my clothes
and everything. I mean...gross!"
"We'd better stay in," Lark said. "There's nowhere else on this barge
to go - just more gel vats in a huge hold. Besides, when these are loaded
onto the planet, we want to go with them, and be taken straight to Cylla,
or whoever is responsible."
"And then what?" Katayin asked, while Benchen kneaded her shoulders.
"Um...well, I'm sure we'll think of something," Lark said.
"Well, in the meantime, I'm getting out of these gel-shellacked clothes,"
Gham said. "Besides, I've always wanted to skinny-dip in styling gel."
Lark blinked, a look of stunned amazement on his face. Even his
sideburns looked amazed, but that is not to be unexpected, given that they
are sentient sideburns, and moreover, sentient sideburns completely coated
with styling gel, which is the sideburn equivalent of being a human and
receiving a total body-licking and nerve-point arousal from Babette Suvini,
a 32 and 2/3rds degree mistress of the ancient and venerated art of Tongue-fu,
which was developed on Planet Barbados (Planet of Physical Delights), of
course.
The upshot of all this being that the sideburns were sending some
rather...um...graphic...images into Lark's mind, and I'm not talking Nintendo
here. Lark, who had been entertaining a few stray graphic ideas regarding
Gham to begin with, moved to help her remove some of the more restrictive
articles of gel-soaked clothing, when he received a second upshot. More
accurately, he received a shot upside the head, and went a good twenty feet,
hitting the side of the huge vat.
"Please don't tempt Time Agent 90210, Ms. Gham," BRENDA said, retracting
her Power Punch. "He is on a very important mission, and according to Time
Agent rule #26c, paragraph 4, subsection 9,159, is forbidden to engage in
any sort of recreational carnal activity for the duration of his mission."
"There is no such rule!" Lark yelled.
"There is now," BRENDA answered. Lark fumed. Gham giggled.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
"Well, it all began when I faked my death on Earth," Alexander Berkman
said. In front of him, Emma Goldman listened with focused interest, while
the other Anarchists and friends thereof lounged or slept, showing their
relative lack of interest in the whole thing. "Or rather, I had it faked
for me."
"It was 1936, and I was still in prison, for supposed crimes committed
against the State," Alexander said. "I was on the verge of killing
myself, when this angelic voice, like the lathe of heaven modulated through
a moog synthesizer, said 'Alexander, it is time. Come with us.' I was
transported into a huge starship that was orbiting Earth, and watched with
horror and amazement as a synthezoid duplicate of myself was programmed
and beamed down to Earth in my place, where it promptly committed
suicide.
"My benefactors, the Lalagonians, said that I had been chosen to serve
on an intergalactic jury that was trying the notorious arch-criminal
Kalvin Certain. I protested that I had no idea of who this Kalvin Certain
was, that I loathed the idea of serving the State in any fashion, like
as part of a public jury, for instance, and that I was considerably stressed
by my life in general and by the fact that I had just learned of the
existance of interplanetary life in the first place. They said it was either
that or I get fed to the crews' pet Uuu'ga'chklor, which is sort of like
that big rancor thing in 'Return of the Jedi', only with worse breath. So,
I agreed.
"The trial didn't take very long, mostly because Kalvin escaped
from his captors and, in a daring adventure, eluded armies and galactic
armadas from millions of solar systems, only to die when trying to shift
gears in his intergalactic Chevy Truck, causing the engine to grind and
break down, and subsequently allow him to plummet into a star and die a
horrible and terribly scarring death. As for myself, I wondered if it meant
we still had to stay on for the rest of our alloted time as jurors.
"As it turned out, we didn't, and I was free to return to Earth. Only,
I decided not to, and instead elected to join up with some Free Traders
based in the Pez Quadrant, where I spent the next five decades smuggling
pez into lucrative planetary black markets, where a single container of pez
can fetch anything up to 10,000 credits - 20,000 credits if the plastic head
on the pez container is that of Radar Vogel.
"That all came to an end five years ago, when the Pez Armada was
organized, and our smuggling headquarters was subjected to intense bombardment
and saturation of Whitney Houston music, on infinite playback. I managed to
escape the horror in a shuttle craft, and drifted until I was rescued by
Bata, who was on his way to Parafeit Minor following his failure to locate
the OmniDean. In return for the rescue, I offered to become his personal
bodyguard, and he accepted."
Alexander paused.
"Um...the end," he added. He paused again. "Hello?" he asked. He
tapped Emma on the shoulder.
"Ah, very interesting!" Emma declared, suddenly realizing that Alexander's
story had come to an end. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Alexander said, trying to raise his voice above the
volumes of snores that were coming from everyone else. "Now, perhaps you
could tell me how me how you came to be in this motley group...Emma?" He
paused. "You never snored before."
--------------------------------------------------------------------
"Okay, everybody be still," Lark instructed. "We've landed on the
planet Kookamonga IX. The vats will be unloading themselves shortly. We'll
have to stay under the gel for an extended amount of time, so take the
small capsules I just handed you to allow you to breathe gel in place of
air. Any questions?"
"Is there a restroom on this ship?" Benchen asked, twisting his legs.
"I *told* you to go before we left the planet," Lark said, sternly.
"But that was a full day ago!"
"Details, details..."
"What about me?" BRENDA asked.
"Well, your body doesn't need to breathe," Lark said. "No problem."
"They'll be able to detect this drone body," BRENDA said. "It contains
several trace compounds and ferrous ores, not to mention the fact that it's
too damn big to hide in the gel."
"Damn," Lark said. "That's a problem. I...wait!"
"What is it, Lark?" Katayin asked.
"BRENDA, can you download yourself into the gel vat's guidance computer?"
Lark asked.
"But Lark, it'd be terribly cramped in there," BRENDA said, her voice
a bit pouty. "A girl's got to have her space, you know..."
"Can you?"
"I suppose," BRENDA sighed. The huge drone sloshed through the gel
over to the input panel of the vat, and jacked in. Seconds later, the drone
fell over, lifeless. A message appeared on the screen: 'Ok, I'm in. Hang on,
we're next to go down.'
The vat moved, and Gham grabbed Lark's arm for balance. Another message
flashed on the screen: 'I saw that. Remember what I told you.' Lark took his
capsule and raised an eyebrow at the screen. Gham took her capsule and stuck
her tongue out at the screen, then pulled Lark under the surface of the gel.
Katayin and Benchen took their capsules and sank beneath the surface,
just as the vat emerged from the darkness of the hold to the daylight skies of
Kookamonga IX.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
"We're making our approach for the capital city, Kabulka, now,"
Jerriphrrt purred. "Clearance is granted."
"Hey, check it out!" Slithis said, pointing out the window. "It's an
InterPlanet freighter. Damn, is that thing big or what? Wonder what it's
cargo is..."
"Never mind that," Tarrfel t'Krodkzik said. "We have to find some way
of getting to the OmniDean."
"I tried that for years," Bata said. "I searched every square inch of
land on the planet - and could find no clues as to where the OmniDean was
located on the planet."
"With all due respect," Tarrfel said. "You may be almost omniscient, but
you're no sneak thief, like me. If there's a secret enterance anywhere on this
planet, I'll find it."
"What about us?" the master of unarmed death-dealing with his arm stuck
in the couch asked. "You just gonna leave us here, or what?"
"We were planning to, yes," James(xiv) said.
"That's not very neighborly," a master of unarmed death-dealing wedged
into the wall commented.
"Suppose we made a deal," the third master of unarmed death-dealing, also
wedged into the wall, suggested. "You free us, and in exchange, we'll help you
find this OmniDean. We're expert trackers, and there's absolutely no chance
we'd ever lose our quarry."
"Ummmm," Emma pondered. "Naah. We'll find it without your help. Thanks
for the offer, though."
"No problem," one of the masters of unarmed death-dealing said. "Good
luck."
The ship set down in the starport. Shadebeam lowered the gangway, and
the Anarchists and friends got out.
"Do I have to go with you guys?" Robert Smith groaned. "I'd rather stay
here and be depressed in peace and quiet."
"Sorry," Benjen said. "In case we need to make a quick getaway, we
need someone aboard who won't lock up the ship then go slide under some debris
and wallow in depression."
"Oh," Robert said. "How depressing."
HOW DEPRESSING IS IT?
SO DEPRESSING THAT THE AUTHOR COULDN'T THINK OF A REAL CLIFFHANGER FOR THIS
EPISODE?
WILL BEING PULLED UNDER THE GEL BY GHAM BE A DEPRESSING EXPERIENCE FOR LARK?
WILL SHEEP FUTURES BECOME DEPRESSED AS THE LINGERIE MARKET BOOMS?
WELL, I GUESS THAT MEANS IT'S TIME TO DEPRESS DE BUTTON...ONLY HERE ON...
SFSTORY!
=========================================================================
Date: Tue, 20 Apr 1993 14:34:44 -0400
Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List (SUPERGUY at UCF1VM.BITNET)
From: Evan Pongress (ep at VIRGIN.MV.COM)
Subject: AA: Dead Author #500 (prolificity at its finest)
A blinding flash flashed blindingly near the base of a cliff at
the Author's Beach in the Author's Altiverse, causing some of the sun-baked
inhabitants to almost have a thought in reaction.
"Whoah," marveled one of the more evolved beachgoers, forming a little
more than half a thought before becoming enraptured by the afterimages
floating in front of his eyes. Before this person could actually become
further characterized in this narrative, a shark ran up onto the beach, grabbed
him by the head with its teeth, and dragged him down under the waves.
"Hey," said his girlfriend, before she forgot who she was with.
Meanwhile, back at the site of the blinding flash, there was a figure
lying sprawled where empty sand had been just earlier. It was a man, smallish
in his frame, straight black hair swept across his brow above a youthful,
almost naive face. The rest of him was covered in all manners of alien
clothing: lizard slippers from Quimby III, bright orange bermuda shorts
from a cute boutique on an asteroid near that funny black hole, something
that served as a shirt, and a Hawaiin lei, among all kinds of little odds
and ends from all parts of some galaxy somewhere. A mail sticker with
postage due to the Planet of Supermarkets was pasted to the side of his
head.
After a second, he gurgled, and sat up.
"Hmphgla" he gurgled, squinting in the perfectly edited sunshine. He
sat, immobile, for several moments, the soft ocean breeze wisping around his
hair. The distant jangles of 'Cosmic Thing' wafted to his ears. He blinked.
"Hey," grated a weathered voice behind him.
He turned slowly, the gnarled figure of a grizzled old seaman sitting
among the cliff rocks greeting his focusing eyes.
"Are you the Savior?" the seaman asked, leaning forward slightly, a
bottle clinking against a rock.
"Hmwha?" the young man inquired, suddenly realizing his mouth was
full of sand.
A young female beach bunny hopped up, beachball in hand, as the young
man finished sputtering.
"*You're* the Savior?" she asked happily.
Finally orientating himself, the young man raised his eyes, observing
a pair of perfectly tanned perfectly curvy legs, a perfectly tanned perfectly
full set of hips, a perfectly tanned perfectly slim waist, a perfectly
tanned perfectly smooth stomach, a pair of perfectly tanned perfectly...
"Holy bazookas!" he breathed, barely noticing her perfect blond
hair atop a perfectly vacuous face.
"So, like, you're the Savior? Fer real?" she continued.
"What? Oh! Uh..." He paused. In truth, the thought had never occurred
to him. For all he knew, and after all he had just been through, it was a
strong possibility, not to mention much less weirder than what had happened
to him already. He cleared his throat.
Now, this particular individual was smart enough to realize that if
this young nubile beach bunny actually *believed* he was the Savior, or at
least *her* Savior, he could get his happy trembling hands on her soft white
parts. He was, however, not much smarter than this, and not even his hormones
could have concocted the experience he would have next:
He opened his mouth to speak, when a curious light began gleaming right
where his gaze rested on her bazookas. He blinked in surprise, and when he
looked up in confusion, he realized that the light was expanding to surround
him, blocking out his environment.
"Hey.." he blurted.
"HAY IS FOR HORSES.." reverbrated a deep voice above him.
The beach had disappeared, and the young man blinked into a warm,
golden light that made the sun of the Beach feel like an ice cube in a bad
mood. Soft tones breezed up and down the scale with lazy abandon, and
somewhere, a half-heard angelic choir was singing something that sounded like
'Cosmic Thing' to a harp.
The young man looked up, squinting, toward the Source of the voice, and
saw only light.
"Hey!" he said again, with more conviction.
Before he could say anything else, an energy tore through him like a
laser had bored through the top of his head down to his toes. His spine
glowed like a live wire, and the heat that was building in his chest burst
into his head, causing him to explode.
The girl cocked her head to the side, having just finished her
question to the young man, who was busy gazing dumbstruck at her chest.
He started, looking up sharply, a fire-like glint in his eye.
"No child, I am not the Savior, but I am like the voice crying out
in the wilderness, preparing the paths of the One who is to come after me!"
"Cool!" the girl squealed, bouncing around within the meager limitations
of her black and white french bikini. "I'm Sister Abigail! What's your name?"
"Burt Ward!" he said triumphantly.
* * * * *
The Dead Author Chronicles
Episode 500
(of 500)
by
Evan Pongress
(the most prolific author of all time)
Recapitulation time:
EPISODE 1:
Burt Ward discovers the apparently murdered body of Author Evan Pongress
(which has since had its own adventures, what with roaming around via a remote
controlled exoskeleton, getting hit by a truck, and being made into ashtrays
and a coaster or two, until recently in the possession of a group of highly
neurotic Authors) in the Author's Altiversal beach house. Burt then jumps
off a cliff after finding out that he missed an episode of Superguy wherein
his eternal lust object, the She Devil, appeared in her birthday suit, not
before a miniature black hole that orbits Earth every so-odd years hit a
containter of Spam along with episodes of Classic SfStory, causing him to fall
into a rip in the fabric of space/time right where he would have hit the
ground. Those youngers, always so impulsive.
EPISODE 2:
Burt Ward appears on Planet California-SfStory, disrupting the ritual of some
shaman-like guy, who stalks off. Burt, believing himself dead, mourns the
eternal damnation of his soul due to his suicide. He then flees as two
desert inhabitants chase after him in their Jeeps in order to eat him.
We then learn about Andrew Steerpike, Grocery Checker to the Planet of
Supermarkets, who is the pilot of a miniature battleship/store that sells
grocery to the farthest reaches of the galaxy, who is late for work.
Burt Ward falls through a shaft into Steerpike's hangar bay, and enters
the shuttle before Steerpike boards and takes off.
EPISODE 3:
An object suddenly notices its own consciousness due to the fact that the
feminine, emotive part of itself gives it feelings. The object preferred
the sleep/nothing state it had been in earlier, so pushes his feminine
aspect away by accident. God wanders by and informs the object that he
had just pushed his Will away from himself for the second time, and the
reason the object was up in nirvana-land just then was becauses his Will,
having been incarnated seperately from him, tracked him down and killed
him with a knife in the back. God cheerfully informs the object, who by
this point remembers his identity as Evan Pongress, that he must find a
way back into material reality and reclaim his Will. He does indeed
find a point of incarnation in physical matter: in the body of Burt Ward,
who complains of feeling 'weird'.
EPISODES 4-499:
The Lost Episodes. They were really neat, and chronicled the amazing
adventures of Burt, Steerpike, and the hidden essence of Evan Pongress
as they tripped the galaxy fantastic! The romance, the thrill, the
daring intrigue of it all! I wonder what happened to them. Perhaps
that was what Dirky the Evil Berzorkian cryptically referred to in the
unforgettable episode #231, "The Menace of Dirky the Evil Berzorkian":
'"What a cool storyline this is," noted Steerpike, gazing admiringly
at the background and atmosphere of the episode, gun in hand.
"Yeah," agreed Burt, stepping carefully over the complex webs of
clever puns, allusions, and other intricately brilliant arrays of literary
devices scattered around.
"AHA!" boomed a deep, evil voice, and a huge figure leapt out of
the shadows.
"Dirky the Evil Berzorkian!" Burt and Steerpike shouted in unison,
and Dirky shot the gun out of Steerpike's hand before he could use it.
"Rats!" cursed Steerpike dramatically.
"You fools!" screamed Dirky, waving his arms. "Perhaps you think I
am stupid, but ask your dog!"
"AAAAA!" screamed Burt and Steerpike!'
Whoah. I still get shivers up and down my spine when I think back on that
episode. It was pretty intense, and I don't want to give away what
happened, in case these episodes resurface. However, I think Dirky was
acting a little suspicious there, and his involvement becomes even
more suspect when you read #307, "Return of Dirky the Evil Berzorkian":
'The bird shifted upon Burt's head, causing him to growl in pain.
"Chill, Ward," Steerpike whispered harshly, as they walked through
the crowded streets of the alien marketplace. The women were still calling
after them angrily, and who knew where the king had placed his assasins.
"I can't help it," Burt whined. "It still hurts where I bumped
my head against the recoil unit!"
A few of the leathery natives watched them curiously as they navigated
the milling seas of beings amid the dry, dusty streets, and Steerpike
maneuvered Burt into the doorway of a peculiar low building. A micro-trans
unit played 'Cosmic Thing' from a nearby bungalow.
"Now.." Steerpike muttered, drawing a small metallic object out
of his pocket and aiming it toward the lock. Burt glanced around nervously;
nobody paid them any attention.
"There!" whispered Steerpike as the object beeped softly, and a heavy
click sounded from the door, which swung open lazily. Steerpike entered
immediately, leaving Burt standing an agitated guard outside.
"Oh," he whined to himself, his fingers furiously fidgeting with
the lacy hem of the stolen frock. His eyes flit around the crowd as he
stood squeamishly, trying to look as inconspicuous as he could in a flaming
pink dress and a bird on his head.
"Tourists," someone muttered from the passing throng.
Burt glanced back at the door, which stood silently ajar, darkness
within obstructing his vision. He whimpered, bouncing on his heels.
"Excuse me!" a voice boomed beside him. He jumped with a cry, the
bird flapping its wings and squawking irritably, and he turned to meet the
huge armored chest of a palace guard. He gasped in fear as the guard clamped
a meaty hand on his shoulder, then with the other shoved a paper in front of
his frozen face.
"Have you seen this man?" the guard boomed again, making Burt wince.
A careful focusing of his eyes on the paper inches from his nose revealed the
unmistakeable visage of Steerpike, a picture undoubtedly taken before they had
escaped from the King's cells. Burt almost screamed until he noticed his
own picture was not included. It slowly registered that the lovely long-
legged Queen had probably had something to do with it, owing to their one
night of excruciatingly passionate lovemaking.
Well, to be truthful, it *might* have been, if he hadn't fallen from
her tower window, but then she was in Steerpike's room anyway, it seemed...
"Um.. no?" he answered, holding his breath.
The guard grunted, removing the paper from Burt's nose.
"Okay," he boomed, "but if you see him, lemme know!" He squinted,
eyeing Burt carefully from his towering height.
Burt nodded, eyes wide.
"Okay then," the guard muttered, and turned to go. Before he entered
the crowd, he paused, as if forgetting something.
"Oh yeah," the guard said. He lazily lifted his arms over his head,
arching his back in a stretch as he grunted his pleasure, watching Burt with
a small smile as he slowly bent backwards.
Suddenly, and without warning, he twisted his body around, slugging
Burt full in the face, sending him crashing to the clay wall behind him.
Chuckling, the guard pushed his way into the tide of bodies, cries of pain
marking his passage until he disappeared.
"Mmphgla," Burt gurgled.'
Dirky's significant absence from an episode bearing his name tipped me off.
Hm. But maybe it wasn't that episde. Maybe it was episode #383, "Planet
of Dirky the Evil Berzorkian". Or maybe it was #422, "Battle for the
Planet of Dirky the Evil Berzorkian". I know there was a "Return to
the Planet of Dirky the Evil Berzorkian", but I don't remember which
episode number that was.
Anyway, they're out there somewhere, so if you come across any, let me know.
Lost Episodes have the annoying quality of misplacement about them. However,
being the only Author here to have written over 500 episodes, I will gladly
take credit for being the most prolific Author on Superguy! It's not easy
being an artist.. and a dead one at that..
* * * * *
Burt Ward stood in flowing robes and sandals, brandishing a walking
stick. Beside him, Sister Abigail and several other members of the Our Lady
of Training in Orgasmic Orgy Yet Remaining Chaste Until the Second Coming of
the Divine Beach Prophet hopped enthusiastically in their ceremonial bikinis.
"Onward!" he cried with a motion of his stick, and the small crowd
milled after their prophet as he set off across the Author's Beach to
spread the Word.
* * * * *
YAY! BURT WARD IS BACK!
WILL BILL PAUL FEEL LIKE SMALL CHANGE WHEN HE REALIZES I'VE WRITTEN MORE
EPISODES THAN HE? ADMITTEDLY, THEY'RE 'LOST EPISODES', PROBABLY FLOATING
AROUND SOME ALTIVERSE SOMEWHERE..
BUT STILL! THE EFFORT WAS INTENSE!
HAS BURT WARD FOUND GOD?
WHO IS THE ONE TO COME AFTER HIM?
BIKINIED NUNS?? ARE THEY SWEDISH?
Please turn to the Book of Wards, Chapter Two, Verse Ten, which reads..
Superguy!
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