The "Freeola Customer Forum" forum, which includes Retro Game Reviews, has been archived and is now read-only. You cannot post here or create a new thread or review on this forum.
I thought I'd make it a tradition, if only because it's the most masterful piece of fiction ever written. Surprising how little has changed around here since last year.
I would have changed the names to fit, but then it's not nostalgic, and I also can't be bothered.
yeyu:
****
Mystique and AfroJoseph were engaged to be married. Myst was a bored housewife, and AfroJoseph some kind of 1 BC gangster who is very, very angry a lot of the time.
Well, all the time.
Except when he’s being comically gay.
Which is a lot of the time.
Well, all the time.
...
Anywho, one night Myst was stuck at home with only some porn and a cucumber to comfort her when an angel of Tony came down from above.
“I am the archangel Snuggly.” He sang, floating a foot off the ground bathed in golden light. “Do not be afraid, I bring joyous news!” A heavenly choir of angels piped up and Snuggs started playing a harp.
“Cut the crap, wings.” Myst sneered. “I’ve had enough of you angels crawling around here, trying to knock me up.”
Snuggs sighed, relieved. The angels, golden light, music and wings disappeared. Now what resembled a smelly old tramp stood in the hallway, scratching himself.
“Alright darlin’?” He drooled, leaning against the wall and lighting a joint, “Guess what?”
Myst sighed. She secreted her cucumber about her person and stared at him. “What?”
“Tony’s sent you up the duff without a paddle. On account of it’s about time the messiah was born and all that.”
“Yeah, yeah. I thought I felt unsatisfied last night. Must have been that. So, what am I to call this child?”
“Well, babes, I’d love to tell you. But it’s like this whole special hilarious ending thing that’s going to happen. So I can’t.” Snuggs picked some melted cheese from his hobo beard and fed it to the mouse living in his armpit.
“Fair enough. I’d hate to anger the genius writer, he knows best.” And I do y’know. I do indeed. Mm-hmm.
Snuggly finished his joint, dropped a loud one and offered to pimp Myst off.
“No? Well, if you change your mind ... just call. I’ll get back to the dustbins, then. Thank God this crappy scene is over.”
“OI!!” Bellowethed an almighty voice. A gigantic, heavily wrinkled hand smashed through the ceiling. It was Tony himself (hurrah!) “DON’T YOU EVER MENTION THAT NAME AGAIN! WE’RE IN DIRECT COMPETITION HERE, IDIOT.” The hand grabbed Snuggs, ripped back up through the ceiling and threw him back to heaven™.
The giant hand reappeared beside Mystique. “OWIE! OWIE OWIE!!” Pronouceth he, “I GOTS A SPLITERY-WINTERY FROM YOUR CRAPPY CEILING. (This place could do with a decent carpenter ... aha! I have an idea!) WILL YOU SUCK IT OUT FOR ME?” The hand, somehow winked and looked pervy.
At this moment AfroJoseph stepped through the front door. His proper gangster / gayboy eyes scanned the scene in front of him, then slammed Tony’s hand against the wall.
“What be goin’ o-O-n dahn here, daWg?” He says. The hand’s little finger looked a little surprised and a little intimidated, but the thumb made some rude gestures.
“AJ! AfroJoseph, my love!” Mystique said, “It’s okay, this freakishly deformed, shockingly lewd hand only came down to say he got me pregnant. No need to worry.”
The AJ’s face scrumpled so, then turned happy. “Ah, weeeell, y’know - sheet daWg.” He said, then whispered into the Hand’s ear (or where he assumed an ear to be), “Cheers for that, sweetums - I was getting a tad worried I may have to touch her womanly body for a second. I only like the men you see, or the cats, or the badgers.”
“UH ... ALL RIGHT THEN ... UH ... CHEERS...... MATE. UH ... BYE THEN.” The hand grew increasingly red and moved towards the ceiling for a heavenly assent.
AfroJoseph leaned in and licked the hand, ever so sensuously, in an area unused to such attention.
The hand screamed and disappeared very quickly.
“An’ dont y’all be comin’ back no more, daWg!” AJ shouted after it.
“Oh! AJ my love!” Mystique cried, “You are so brave - so strong! Now, all we need to do is get an abortion.”
“Abortion, layDee, sure thang. Last thang we be needin’ is da son o’ Tony - that be trippin’ ma ho.”
“Indeed.”
**
The abortion clinic was a goat’s pen by the sewage works. The goat was dead, so it was okay. Funnily enough, the weekly necrophiliacs anonymous meeting was held in the same place.
Mystique and AfroJoseph waited, sitting on the fence posts - Myst because it would get rid of the baby, AJ because it felt nice, if a little splintery.
“The doctor will see you now,” someone said. Like Lil Ginge, Rosalind perhaps - Lindgren maybe, but whoever wants to fit the stereotype of some stupid woman receptionist. And, let’s face it - who wouldn’t?
The doctor smelt quite familiar.
Here, and in the following dialogue I was going to drop some hints about who it really is - but I’m sure you’ve already guessed. Or if you haven’t - it’s Snuggs.
That saved me a lot of work.
“Ahem,” said the doctor, because they all do. “Unfortunately we’re fresh out of the Abort-o-Matic batteries and the suction pump’s stuck on blow rather than stuck (and that could case all SORTS of trouble) - so you’ll have to use alternative methods.”
“AJ!” Myst shouted, “Stay away from the goat!”
AJ stepped away, wiping his fingers on his trousers.
No - wait, he isn’t wearing any trousers.
Mmmm .... nekkid AJ ...
Tasty ...
“So,” said Snuggs, “I know the best way to get rid of this baby.”
***Pay attention, because this bit’s important***
“You’ll have to wait ... oh, I dunno - say, 9 months. Then travel to Bethlehem on a donkey (a little donkey, on a dusty track) and we’ll go from there, okay?”
(see?)
“Ooh!” AJ squealed, “A donkey! Yippee! Uh ... oh, I mean ... yo, daWg, we be up wid dat, man, goin’ dahn Beddle-hem? Yeah, dat be cool, let do it. What up, ma ho?”
“Nothing, AJ,” Myst said, “We’ll go.”
“(can I pick the donkey?)” AJ whispered.
**
Mystique rode the donkey.
AfroJoseph also rode the donkey, but only when Myst wasn’t watching.
They arrived in Bethlehem and looked for a place to stay. But the whole city (or town, village, whatever) was full with people - the reason for this soon became apparent.
They went to an inn and knocked at the door, a flouncy poof answered. Yep, you guessed it - Microchips.
“I’m ever so awfully terribly sorry, luvvies. But tonight is my ‘special’ party night - thousands of gorgeous people flock to the city for it. So I’m full.” He slammed the door, then quickly reopened it. “But you,” he winked at AJ and the donkey, “ Can both come in.”
“Sorrah,” said the AJ, “But I should probably stay with my ... woman. She’s having an abortion!” He looked very proud. The donkey looked a little disheartened and peered around the door to look at the party.
“Well then,” Shipsei said, and slammed the door, then quickly reopened it. “Got any lube? Grease? Butter? Cream cheese? Oil? Turtle wax? Honey?”
“Sorrah,” said the AJ, but slipped Chipseh a mega-sized slippy-bucket under his robes.
“Look,” Mystique said, “I need somewhere to have the abortion, and everywhere else is full,” Oh, yeah - they checked loads of places before coming to this inn, and they were all full. “So what can you do for us? Got a stable?”
“I have got a stable, but some people are in there making a terrible noise - all this golden light and angelic singing crap. They didn’t even pay! Anyway - if you want a place, you’ll have to go on the roof.”
The roof was very steep and Myst, being the unfortunate shape she was, kept rolling off. There was a manger though, for tradition, and some asses (Azul and jim-hat) balanced on the peak. (yes, I’m still making that point)
**
Far away (well, not that far, as they’ve got to walk to the inn before daylight) in some fields on a hillside some shepherds ‘tended’ their flocks. Tended is the technical term, you see, and has nothing to do with those nasty rumours about the nice shepherd folk.
A bright light lit up the hillside, then the group stopped lighting eachother’s farts and found two angels to be standing before them.
“Hi!” Said one
“Hi!” Said the other
“We’re Darkus and Bob. It sounds pretty cool - like a comedy duo, so that’s what we’ll be.” Said the first - it was probably Bob, but may well be Darkus for all we know.
“Yup,” said Darkus, “Now, the FFF has realised he hasn’t told us the shepherds’ names, so I’ll ask you them.”
“I’m Mary,” said gerrid, leaning forward to expose some breasticles.
“I’m Amy,” said Memo, flashing some leg
“I’m Julie,” said Nash, moaning slightly.
Darkus nudged Bob and whispered something in his ear, then nudged him again.
“Oh yeah,” says the Bob, he pulled a little card from his pockets and read off it: “Do. Not. Be. Af ... afr...-?”
“Afraid,” Darkus corrected.
“Yeah - do not be afraid! Do not be afraid.” Bob sad, very pleased with himself.
“We weren’t,” says Nash, the lovely laydee.
“Nope,” said Memo.
“Hold me!” shouted gerrid. Memo and some sheep did so. “Oh - I’m not scared either,” gerrid grinned.
Bob turned the card over and read the other side. “You. Must. Go. Down. Into. Be ... beth ... bethl-l-l ...?”
“Bethlehem.”
“BETHLEHEM! I knew that. You must go down into Bethlehem and ... and ... see. The. Baby. Who. Is. The. Son. Of. T ... t-t-t- .... ton..?”
“Tony,”
“I know,” Bob had his angry face on, “But that bathtub’s had too many mentions already. And he promised ME his first child anyway.” Bob put his sad face on.
“Why?” Nash asked from inside a sheep. “Bethlehem smells like soap. Not nice.”
“Well ... uh ......erm ...” Bob frantically turned the card over and over in his hand, but it revealed no more wordy secrets.
“Because we’re special, and we say so. And we’re angels, too.”
“You don’t look like angels,” said Memo, although he had joined Nash inside the sheep and couldn’t see very well.
Bob and Darkus looked down at themselves. It was true, they actually looked like dominatrix crack w****s, but Tony had said it suited them and that the wings set everything off nicely.
“That may well be true, but you’re going anyway.”
“Can we take the sheep?” gerrid asked, although from the position he was in, NOT taking the sheep would be the harder option.
“Okay.”
“Can we stop in at Chipsay’s party?”
“Okay.”
“Can I steal your wallet?”
“No!”
But the three had gone, sheep attached, to find a baby. If social services existed in 1 BC, this would never have been allowed to happen.
**
Far, far away in the east, three wise men stood astride camels. It was an occupational hazard, not a conscious choice. Except for Black Glove, who really quite enjoyed it.
“Lookit!” squealed El Robin. He was, very obviously, not a wise man, but had grown increasingly fond of one Fantasy Meister. FM didn’t even have to pay for it anymore.
“Lookit!” Robin squealed again. He had to say most things twice, on account of everyone trying to ignore him. He jabbed a finger at the sky. “STAR!” he shouted.
“No shi†, genius,” Insane Bartender said, and cut one of Robin’s fingers off.
“Actually, IB, the kid may have a point,” says the Black Glove. He stared reflectively up into the darkening sky, starlight scattered in his deep, powerful eyes. A strong breeze lifted his golden cape from his shoulders, caressed his bare arms, legs, torso and groin. He blinked once, slowly, and lowered his head. When his eyes opened again, a great sadness showed there; mirrored infinitely in his shredded soul, redoubled through the rift in his mind. It had been too long now, he decided, the suffering must end. And only he could do it. The pain grew again, a tumour in his being, and the blackness threatened an almighty attack. He pushed it back, reinforced the barriers and raised the wall within him. His past self could not end this, only the present, or else the future would be impossible.
Not really.
“There’s a bigger star there,” FM said.
“Yippee!” Robin said, “Bigstar BIGSTAR - me geddit!”
“Shall we follow it?” BG asked.
FM looked around. A shabby tent, the camels (now too loose to be really enjoyable) and a stained rug was all there was. “We may as well,” he said, in all his wisdom.
“Okay then, dickshag,” IB said and sliced open Robin’s belly for no apparent reason and dropped in a scorpion.
So they set off, walking faster than humanly possible, following the star.
**
“Iz dis ‘posed to happen, ma ho?” AfroJoseph asked. The abortion wasn’t looking too good.
“Well, my love.” Myst said, panting. Although for once, something was coming out instead of going in. “The kid’s coming out, so it must be working.”
At that moment the three shepherds appeared, clambering up the roof in full mountaineering gear. It wasn’t that steep, but they were all agreed: those straps that go around you crotch were very nice indeed, and the pickaxes good for levering stuff.
The group looked very angry, though.
“Tutututututututut,” said Memo. “What a bi†ch.”
“What’s the matter, boys?” Myst asked. It was a very strange thing to see shepherd without a sheep or two attached.
“Some dozy s**g in the stable stole our sheep. She was all like “thank you, kind gentlemen. God will have a place for you in heaven.” What total bullsheet.”
The gerrid was grinning, “She didn’t get them all,” he said, pulling a bedraggled lamb from dark regions. “And I got that nice Jo’s number.”
“So did I,” said Memo
“So did I,” said Nash. They all raised they eyebrows and discussed party arrangements. AJ snuck close to them and asked if he could come.
“Boys?” Myst asked
“Oh, right,” Memo said, “Some angels told us to come here, so we did. What’s up.”
“Well, I’m supposed to be having an abortion.”
“Yummy!” Nash said.
**
In 231 words, the three wise men and Robin and travelled half way around the world and even stopped off at Ikea on the way.
“What a bi†ch,” IB said, “I’ll bloody well kill her, dozy bint.”
“What’s the matter, boys?” Myst asked. It was a very strange thing to see wise men.
“Some idiot woman stole my gold.” IB grumped.
“And my frankincense,” BG moaned.
“And my myrrh,” FM said, cheerily, “But I got that nice Jo fellow’s number.”
The shepherds took him to one side and had a hushed conversation, punctuated by exclamations of interest from FM. He paid up his membership fee, got his card and agreed to host a get-together every other week.
“She stole my stickle-bricks!” Robin cried. IB dunked his head in acid and dried it on a cheese grater.
“ARRRRGGGHHHH!” Mystique shouted, “ I WANTED A GIRL!”
There, in her arms, was the aborted baby. It looked unusually alive and even made some baby noises. So much for the doctor’s wacky new-age methods.
The wise men, shepherds, asses, AJ and Robin leaned to have a look. Again, the importance of social services was realised.
“It IS a girl,” Nash said.
“No - wait!,” FM shouted, “It’s Shanoe!”
“Like I said,” Nash said.
Everyone ran away very quickly, many falling to their deaths from the roof top. Well, only Robin did, and IB did help him along a little.
“Ugh!” Myst said, dripping, “Even worse.” She took the evil-manifest and drop-kicked it into the still night air.
“Hurrah!” Everyone chorused and went to Shipsey’s party.
**
Shanoe landed in the lap of Stryke, king of all the lands.
“Argh! It’s hideous!” He screamed and lobbed it down his throne room. He rebounded off the far wall and came flying back. Stryke caught him.
“Hey!” He exclaimed, booting the baby against the wall. “This is fun! GUARDS! Bring me all the babies in the land, I’ve made up a new game.”
etc.
**
Everyone was happy, or dead.
And everyone, even the dead, got laid that night.
**
*END*
I would have changed the names to fit, but then it's not nostalgic, and I also can't be bothered.
yeyu:
****
Mystique and AfroJoseph were engaged to be married. Myst was a bored housewife, and AfroJoseph some kind of 1 BC gangster who is very, very angry a lot of the time.
Well, all the time.
Except when he’s being comically gay.
Which is a lot of the time.
Well, all the time.
...
Anywho, one night Myst was stuck at home with only some porn and a cucumber to comfort her when an angel of Tony came down from above.
“I am the archangel Snuggly.” He sang, floating a foot off the ground bathed in golden light. “Do not be afraid, I bring joyous news!” A heavenly choir of angels piped up and Snuggs started playing a harp.
“Cut the crap, wings.” Myst sneered. “I’ve had enough of you angels crawling around here, trying to knock me up.”
Snuggs sighed, relieved. The angels, golden light, music and wings disappeared. Now what resembled a smelly old tramp stood in the hallway, scratching himself.
“Alright darlin’?” He drooled, leaning against the wall and lighting a joint, “Guess what?”
Myst sighed. She secreted her cucumber about her person and stared at him. “What?”
“Tony’s sent you up the duff without a paddle. On account of it’s about time the messiah was born and all that.”
“Yeah, yeah. I thought I felt unsatisfied last night. Must have been that. So, what am I to call this child?”
“Well, babes, I’d love to tell you. But it’s like this whole special hilarious ending thing that’s going to happen. So I can’t.” Snuggs picked some melted cheese from his hobo beard and fed it to the mouse living in his armpit.
“Fair enough. I’d hate to anger the genius writer, he knows best.” And I do y’know. I do indeed. Mm-hmm.
Snuggly finished his joint, dropped a loud one and offered to pimp Myst off.
“No? Well, if you change your mind ... just call. I’ll get back to the dustbins, then. Thank God this crappy scene is over.”
“OI!!” Bellowethed an almighty voice. A gigantic, heavily wrinkled hand smashed through the ceiling. It was Tony himself (hurrah!) “DON’T YOU EVER MENTION THAT NAME AGAIN! WE’RE IN DIRECT COMPETITION HERE, IDIOT.” The hand grabbed Snuggs, ripped back up through the ceiling and threw him back to heaven™.
The giant hand reappeared beside Mystique. “OWIE! OWIE OWIE!!” Pronouceth he, “I GOTS A SPLITERY-WINTERY FROM YOUR CRAPPY CEILING. (This place could do with a decent carpenter ... aha! I have an idea!) WILL YOU SUCK IT OUT FOR ME?” The hand, somehow winked and looked pervy.
At this moment AfroJoseph stepped through the front door. His proper gangster / gayboy eyes scanned the scene in front of him, then slammed Tony’s hand against the wall.
“What be goin’ o-O-n dahn here, daWg?” He says. The hand’s little finger looked a little surprised and a little intimidated, but the thumb made some rude gestures.
“AJ! AfroJoseph, my love!” Mystique said, “It’s okay, this freakishly deformed, shockingly lewd hand only came down to say he got me pregnant. No need to worry.”
The AJ’s face scrumpled so, then turned happy. “Ah, weeeell, y’know - sheet daWg.” He said, then whispered into the Hand’s ear (or where he assumed an ear to be), “Cheers for that, sweetums - I was getting a tad worried I may have to touch her womanly body for a second. I only like the men you see, or the cats, or the badgers.”
“UH ... ALL RIGHT THEN ... UH ... CHEERS...... MATE. UH ... BYE THEN.” The hand grew increasingly red and moved towards the ceiling for a heavenly assent.
AfroJoseph leaned in and licked the hand, ever so sensuously, in an area unused to such attention.
The hand screamed and disappeared very quickly.
“An’ dont y’all be comin’ back no more, daWg!” AJ shouted after it.
“Oh! AJ my love!” Mystique cried, “You are so brave - so strong! Now, all we need to do is get an abortion.”
“Abortion, layDee, sure thang. Last thang we be needin’ is da son o’ Tony - that be trippin’ ma ho.”
“Indeed.”
**
The abortion clinic was a goat’s pen by the sewage works. The goat was dead, so it was okay. Funnily enough, the weekly necrophiliacs anonymous meeting was held in the same place.
Mystique and AfroJoseph waited, sitting on the fence posts - Myst because it would get rid of the baby, AJ because it felt nice, if a little splintery.
“The doctor will see you now,” someone said. Like Lil Ginge, Rosalind perhaps - Lindgren maybe, but whoever wants to fit the stereotype of some stupid woman receptionist. And, let’s face it - who wouldn’t?
The doctor smelt quite familiar.
Here, and in the following dialogue I was going to drop some hints about who it really is - but I’m sure you’ve already guessed. Or if you haven’t - it’s Snuggs.
That saved me a lot of work.
“Ahem,” said the doctor, because they all do. “Unfortunately we’re fresh out of the Abort-o-Matic batteries and the suction pump’s stuck on blow rather than stuck (and that could case all SORTS of trouble) - so you’ll have to use alternative methods.”
“AJ!” Myst shouted, “Stay away from the goat!”
AJ stepped away, wiping his fingers on his trousers.
No - wait, he isn’t wearing any trousers.
Mmmm .... nekkid AJ ...
Tasty ...
“So,” said Snuggs, “I know the best way to get rid of this baby.”
***Pay attention, because this bit’s important***
“You’ll have to wait ... oh, I dunno - say, 9 months. Then travel to Bethlehem on a donkey (a little donkey, on a dusty track) and we’ll go from there, okay?”
(see?)
“Ooh!” AJ squealed, “A donkey! Yippee! Uh ... oh, I mean ... yo, daWg, we be up wid dat, man, goin’ dahn Beddle-hem? Yeah, dat be cool, let do it. What up, ma ho?”
“Nothing, AJ,” Myst said, “We’ll go.”
“(can I pick the donkey?)” AJ whispered.
**
Mystique rode the donkey.
AfroJoseph also rode the donkey, but only when Myst wasn’t watching.
They arrived in Bethlehem and looked for a place to stay. But the whole city (or town, village, whatever) was full with people - the reason for this soon became apparent.
They went to an inn and knocked at the door, a flouncy poof answered. Yep, you guessed it - Microchips.
“I’m ever so awfully terribly sorry, luvvies. But tonight is my ‘special’ party night - thousands of gorgeous people flock to the city for it. So I’m full.” He slammed the door, then quickly reopened it. “But you,” he winked at AJ and the donkey, “ Can both come in.”
“Sorrah,” said the AJ, “But I should probably stay with my ... woman. She’s having an abortion!” He looked very proud. The donkey looked a little disheartened and peered around the door to look at the party.
“Well then,” Shipsei said, and slammed the door, then quickly reopened it. “Got any lube? Grease? Butter? Cream cheese? Oil? Turtle wax? Honey?”
“Sorrah,” said the AJ, but slipped Chipseh a mega-sized slippy-bucket under his robes.
“Look,” Mystique said, “I need somewhere to have the abortion, and everywhere else is full,” Oh, yeah - they checked loads of places before coming to this inn, and they were all full. “So what can you do for us? Got a stable?”
“I have got a stable, but some people are in there making a terrible noise - all this golden light and angelic singing crap. They didn’t even pay! Anyway - if you want a place, you’ll have to go on the roof.”
The roof was very steep and Myst, being the unfortunate shape she was, kept rolling off. There was a manger though, for tradition, and some asses (Azul and jim-hat) balanced on the peak. (yes, I’m still making that point)
**
Far away (well, not that far, as they’ve got to walk to the inn before daylight) in some fields on a hillside some shepherds ‘tended’ their flocks. Tended is the technical term, you see, and has nothing to do with those nasty rumours about the nice shepherd folk.
A bright light lit up the hillside, then the group stopped lighting eachother’s farts and found two angels to be standing before them.
“Hi!” Said one
“Hi!” Said the other
“We’re Darkus and Bob. It sounds pretty cool - like a comedy duo, so that’s what we’ll be.” Said the first - it was probably Bob, but may well be Darkus for all we know.
“Yup,” said Darkus, “Now, the FFF has realised he hasn’t told us the shepherds’ names, so I’ll ask you them.”
“I’m Mary,” said gerrid, leaning forward to expose some breasticles.
“I’m Amy,” said Memo, flashing some leg
“I’m Julie,” said Nash, moaning slightly.
Darkus nudged Bob and whispered something in his ear, then nudged him again.
“Oh yeah,” says the Bob, he pulled a little card from his pockets and read off it: “Do. Not. Be. Af ... afr...-?”
“Afraid,” Darkus corrected.
“Yeah - do not be afraid! Do not be afraid.” Bob sad, very pleased with himself.
“We weren’t,” says Nash, the lovely laydee.
“Nope,” said Memo.
“Hold me!” shouted gerrid. Memo and some sheep did so. “Oh - I’m not scared either,” gerrid grinned.
Bob turned the card over and read the other side. “You. Must. Go. Down. Into. Be ... beth ... bethl-l-l ...?”
“Bethlehem.”
“BETHLEHEM! I knew that. You must go down into Bethlehem and ... and ... see. The. Baby. Who. Is. The. Son. Of. T ... t-t-t- .... ton..?”
“Tony,”
“I know,” Bob had his angry face on, “But that bathtub’s had too many mentions already. And he promised ME his first child anyway.” Bob put his sad face on.
“Why?” Nash asked from inside a sheep. “Bethlehem smells like soap. Not nice.”
“Well ... uh ......erm ...” Bob frantically turned the card over and over in his hand, but it revealed no more wordy secrets.
“Because we’re special, and we say so. And we’re angels, too.”
“You don’t look like angels,” said Memo, although he had joined Nash inside the sheep and couldn’t see very well.
Bob and Darkus looked down at themselves. It was true, they actually looked like dominatrix crack w****s, but Tony had said it suited them and that the wings set everything off nicely.
“That may well be true, but you’re going anyway.”
“Can we take the sheep?” gerrid asked, although from the position he was in, NOT taking the sheep would be the harder option.
“Okay.”
“Can we stop in at Chipsay’s party?”
“Okay.”
“Can I steal your wallet?”
“No!”
But the three had gone, sheep attached, to find a baby. If social services existed in 1 BC, this would never have been allowed to happen.
**
Far, far away in the east, three wise men stood astride camels. It was an occupational hazard, not a conscious choice. Except for Black Glove, who really quite enjoyed it.
“Lookit!” squealed El Robin. He was, very obviously, not a wise man, but had grown increasingly fond of one Fantasy Meister. FM didn’t even have to pay for it anymore.
“Lookit!” Robin squealed again. He had to say most things twice, on account of everyone trying to ignore him. He jabbed a finger at the sky. “STAR!” he shouted.
“No shi†, genius,” Insane Bartender said, and cut one of Robin’s fingers off.
“Actually, IB, the kid may have a point,” says the Black Glove. He stared reflectively up into the darkening sky, starlight scattered in his deep, powerful eyes. A strong breeze lifted his golden cape from his shoulders, caressed his bare arms, legs, torso and groin. He blinked once, slowly, and lowered his head. When his eyes opened again, a great sadness showed there; mirrored infinitely in his shredded soul, redoubled through the rift in his mind. It had been too long now, he decided, the suffering must end. And only he could do it. The pain grew again, a tumour in his being, and the blackness threatened an almighty attack. He pushed it back, reinforced the barriers and raised the wall within him. His past self could not end this, only the present, or else the future would be impossible.
Not really.
“There’s a bigger star there,” FM said.
“Yippee!” Robin said, “Bigstar BIGSTAR - me geddit!”
“Shall we follow it?” BG asked.
FM looked around. A shabby tent, the camels (now too loose to be really enjoyable) and a stained rug was all there was. “We may as well,” he said, in all his wisdom.
“Okay then, dickshag,” IB said and sliced open Robin’s belly for no apparent reason and dropped in a scorpion.
So they set off, walking faster than humanly possible, following the star.
**
“Iz dis ‘posed to happen, ma ho?” AfroJoseph asked. The abortion wasn’t looking too good.
“Well, my love.” Myst said, panting. Although for once, something was coming out instead of going in. “The kid’s coming out, so it must be working.”
At that moment the three shepherds appeared, clambering up the roof in full mountaineering gear. It wasn’t that steep, but they were all agreed: those straps that go around you crotch were very nice indeed, and the pickaxes good for levering stuff.
The group looked very angry, though.
“Tutututututututut,” said Memo. “What a bi†ch.”
“What’s the matter, boys?” Myst asked. It was a very strange thing to see shepherd without a sheep or two attached.
“Some dozy s**g in the stable stole our sheep. She was all like “thank you, kind gentlemen. God will have a place for you in heaven.” What total bullsheet.”
The gerrid was grinning, “She didn’t get them all,” he said, pulling a bedraggled lamb from dark regions. “And I got that nice Jo’s number.”
“So did I,” said Memo
“So did I,” said Nash. They all raised they eyebrows and discussed party arrangements. AJ snuck close to them and asked if he could come.
“Boys?” Myst asked
“Oh, right,” Memo said, “Some angels told us to come here, so we did. What’s up.”
“Well, I’m supposed to be having an abortion.”
“Yummy!” Nash said.
**
In 231 words, the three wise men and Robin and travelled half way around the world and even stopped off at Ikea on the way.
“What a bi†ch,” IB said, “I’ll bloody well kill her, dozy bint.”
“What’s the matter, boys?” Myst asked. It was a very strange thing to see wise men.
“Some idiot woman stole my gold.” IB grumped.
“And my frankincense,” BG moaned.
“And my myrrh,” FM said, cheerily, “But I got that nice Jo fellow’s number.”
The shepherds took him to one side and had a hushed conversation, punctuated by exclamations of interest from FM. He paid up his membership fee, got his card and agreed to host a get-together every other week.
“She stole my stickle-bricks!” Robin cried. IB dunked his head in acid and dried it on a cheese grater.
“ARRRRGGGHHHH!” Mystique shouted, “ I WANTED A GIRL!”
There, in her arms, was the aborted baby. It looked unusually alive and even made some baby noises. So much for the doctor’s wacky new-age methods.
The wise men, shepherds, asses, AJ and Robin leaned to have a look. Again, the importance of social services was realised.
“It IS a girl,” Nash said.
“No - wait!,” FM shouted, “It’s Shanoe!”
“Like I said,” Nash said.
Everyone ran away very quickly, many falling to their deaths from the roof top. Well, only Robin did, and IB did help him along a little.
“Ugh!” Myst said, dripping, “Even worse.” She took the evil-manifest and drop-kicked it into the still night air.
“Hurrah!” Everyone chorused and went to Shipsey’s party.
**
Shanoe landed in the lap of Stryke, king of all the lands.
“Argh! It’s hideous!” He screamed and lobbed it down his throne room. He rebounded off the far wall and came flying back. Stryke caught him.
“Hey!” He exclaimed, booting the baby against the wall. “This is fun! GUARDS! Bring me all the babies in the land, I’ve made up a new game.”
etc.
**
Everyone was happy, or dead.
And everyone, even the dead, got laid that night.
**
*END*
Page:
Ineedsleep wrote:
> Oh yes, out come the traditional Xmas repeats. It's like being tuned
> to the BBC
>
> :D
You'll start looking forward to it in a few years ... probably.
> Oh yes, out come the traditional Xmas repeats. It's like being tuned
> to the BBC
>
> :D
You'll start looking forward to it in a few years ... probably.
Forza wrote:
> The Hibernator wrote:
> Sorry.
>
> I'll add my own bit:
> The Hibernator, meanwhile, was fast asleep this time of year in the
> last room of the inn. So Mystique and Afrojoseph made do with the
> major...
>
> Congrats on decreasing the story's value by 12.
More like 11 - careful what you say JAT :D
> The Hibernator wrote:
> Sorry.
>
> I'll add my own bit:
> The Hibernator, meanwhile, was fast asleep this time of year in the
> last room of the inn. So Mystique and Afrojoseph made do with the
> major...
>
> Congrats on decreasing the story's value by 12.
More like 11 - careful what you say JAT :D
Oh yes, out come the traditional Xmas repeats. It's like being tuned to the BBC
:D
:D
this is the saddest thing I've ever seen.
and I've seen a homeless man pick up a half eaten burger off the floor only to pop it into his mouth.
CRAP.
and I've seen a homeless man pick up a half eaten burger off the floor only to pop it into his mouth.
CRAP.
Absolute genius, my boy.
Brilliant.
The Hibernator wrote:
> Sorry.
>
> I'll add my own bit:
> The Hibernator, meanwhile, was fast asleep this time of year in the
> last room of the inn. So Mystique and Afrojoseph made do with the
> major...
Congrats on decreasing the story's value by 12.
> Sorry.
>
> I'll add my own bit:
> The Hibernator, meanwhile, was fast asleep this time of year in the
> last room of the inn. So Mystique and Afrojoseph made do with the
> major...
Congrats on decreasing the story's value by 12.
FinalFantasyFanatic wrote:
> I thought I'd make it a tradition, if only because it's the most
> masterful piece of fiction ever written. Surprising how little has
> changed around here since last year.
>
> I would have changed the names to fit, but then it's not nostalgic,
> and I also can't be bothered.
> yeyu:
> I thought I'd make it a tradition, if only because it's the most
> masterful piece of fiction ever written. Surprising how little has
> changed around here since last year.
>
> I would have changed the names to fit, but then it's not nostalgic,
> and I also can't be bothered.
> yeyu:
Isn't that an old story?
Ctrl + F
Page: