|Replicant||Hissing and clunking, the engine finally gave out and the car slowed to a stop on the desert road.|
|Niece||The chickens in the back clucking away.|
|Fork U||"Yeah, right." she says. "This is the oldest trick in the book. You get me out here in the middle of nowhere and feign car trouble. All this effort just try to get me to look at your lizard."|
|Eric J. Gustafson||"But the Emerald Gecko is a thing of rare beauty!!"|
|Replicant||"You must realise, though, that your stories don't con me," she said. "Just because it's scaly don't mean it's a lizard." She stood there and glared at him, defiant with her arms folded, the moonlight reflecting brightly from the polish on her wooden teeth.|
|Thread 2 | Thread 3 | Thread 4|
|Dan Kinney||"I know," he sighed, kicking some sand around a stray human skeleton.|
"And all this empty pretense is only distracting me from becoming a rising power in the fast food industry. I don't know what came over me." Sinking to his knees, he began to weep copiously.
|Tim O'Neil||She put a knobby hand on his shoulder.|
"I invented a new kind of french fry, did you know that?!" he cried out to her.
"I crinkle cut a beet one day, I was bored, y'know? But the damn thing actually tasted GOOD!" He sobbed into the dirt.
"Look, we need to, uh, find a place to stay for the night or something, unless you know where we can get some gas, and judging from the look of this place, I'm betting not." She looked about the desert, glanced at the sunken columns and huge warped pocket watches that littered the landscape. Nope, no gas pumps.
|Baron Saturday||"Yes dearest," he muttered humbly. "We need to find a big fat chick though."|
"Well, I know where we can get one. Come on!" she urged.
They turned and walked through the shattered glass, which crunched beneath their combat boots like a small child eating a bowl of cereal. He absently stomped a skull into tiny pieces.
They found their armour-plated Honda gold-wing where they had left it - leaned against a lamp post which stood as a forlorn tall sentinel on this vast plain. The desolation stretched for as far as the eye could see - the shattered glass (which gave the sunset vista a rather lovely air) and shattered bones relieved the monotony somewhat. They had often wondered how a lamp post had come to be in such a place, but had put it down to the vagaries of slip-time.
Little did they know that it was actually an alien transport, camouflaged to make it appear innocuous. Within lived a tiny leprechaun, who spent his days and nights masturbating, waiting for his big date. She was already a couple of thousand local-years late, but what the hell, he figured he would give her five thousand more before cutting out.
The couple (his name was Robert, hers was Cunt) had meanwhile hopped onto their psycles' seat and revved its anti-matter drives to life. Robert turned on some tunez, adjusted his goggles, and they sped off into the void of space-time in search of fat chicks and cow asses.
|Replicant||After travelling for a while, they swapped the bike at Robert's insistence for one of the special hyperspace upgraded Edsel replicas at the nearest branch of Ralph Spoilsport's Interstellar Motor Showroom, and continued their journey.|
Several hours/parsecs later/above, Robert turned to Cunt, pulling a cigarette out of a packet he had been keeping in the pocket of the daring little number in purple and pink plaid which he had slipped on whilst they were travelling, and offering it to her. "Cigarette?"
Robert frowned and lit the cigarette. And then realised why he had taken it out in the first place, and started smoking it. Cunt raised her eyebrows in surprise. "You always smoke a cigarette in your fly?"
"Christ!" she snarled. "Who's carping here? You want to start driving again? You sound just like my mother." Cunt shot Robert a glance that could have burnt the hairs off a Greek woman's thighs.
Cunt flipped him the finger. "No - you really do sound like my mother. Come to think of it, you look like her too. I always wondered why she never shaved off her beard - she claimed it kept the flies away, but I wasn't so sure."
"RIGHT!" Cunt wrenched on the handbrake and brought them metaphorically screeching to a halt out of hyperspace and back into real space/time. "That's it! I quit! I've had enough of you and your comments, this car, your mission for Commander Vr'h's with those DAMNED chickens, everything! You made a real error of judgement getting rid of the bike, plus I think you were taking the piss when you told me that Cunt was a title of great honour on your world and that it was necessary for me to assume it undercover. Screw you, screw your mission and screw any hope you ever had with me of getting laid. I'm out of here."
The woman whose real name was Natalie jammed on her space helmet, picked up her valise off the back seat, opened the door and stepped out into space. The vacuum that resulted from her opening of the door was so powerful that it pulled off Robert's toupé - the one he had had attached all those years ago, after the drunken incident at the hypertattooist's when he had had "The Cubbies for the World Series" 3-D tattooed onto his cranial plate. Robert screamed and yanked the door shut, but it was too late. She had gone, and so had his toupé.
Natalie scowled and turned on her boosters, never looking back at the broken man who was now weeping in the car she had just left forever. Spotting a shuttle stop on an asteroid close by, she jetted over to it. Walking into the diner, she sat down on one of the stools and removed her helmet. She was just about to order, when a rough hand spun her around by the shoulder and she found herself looking up into a face she hadn't seen for a long time.
|Eric Poad||It was the face of God.
She knew that non-sequiturs weren't going to get her out of thisconfrontation.
|Replicant||"Behold!" said the Missionary of the New Reformist Intergalactic Church of the Ultimate Deity who was holding a piece of paper in her face. "Does not the face in this picture inspire in you fear?"|
"No," replied Natalie, as she applied a well-aimed boot to his genitals, "merely loathing." Her breath came out in an exasperated hiss and she turned to the nearest pseudopod of the thing behind the counter.
|Eric Poad||"Damn!" she thought. "I got out of that trap easily enough, but I know it's going to get harder from here on in". The malign entity trying to ensnare her was viciously cunning; she knew that from experience. The same experience told her there'd be fewer loopholes next time...
Whistling cheerfully, she walked away from the counter and into an open elevator shaft.
|Tim O'Neil||Natalie fell and fell, falling for what seemed like a really
long time, down and down, images of long-gone friends and
relatives flashing past her mind, down and down, until she
hit like a ripe mellon against the floor of the shaft.
"Ker-plat" went Natalie, dead as person who had fallen five
miles could be. There was literally a stain of crushed flesh
and blood on the floor of the shaft.
Robert, who happened to have a parachute with him dived into
the shaft only to float gently beside the stain that was
Natalie started wondering what the hell he was doing down
Robert reacted to a noise he heard just then in the darkness. Turning, he saw a little man, a dwarf, less than 3 feet tall, dressed up just like a gnome in those sickening little series of book, waddle over to where he was standing.
The gnome shot Robert a toothy but broken, & decayed grin, and looked down at the stain of Natalie.
Then, quick as a flash, the dwarf whipped out a straw and sucked the stain up! With huge, messy, slurping sounds Natalie's remaining chunks were all slurped up. Robert stared at the diminutive hoover delux with incredulous eyes.
He was about to mumble something to no one in particular when the gnome continued: he shot Robert another green smile, then turned around and dropped his drawers! Then he bent over and made straining noises. With eyes wide open Robert witnessed the little stinker giving birth the the largest turd he had ever seen! With a juicy "Ploop!" what looked like a 500 pound turd made its way out of the gnome's waste canal.
The massive poop then started calling out: "Robert? Robert, where are you?" .
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