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Here’s my 4th spoof in the series, which is Episode I - just like Star Wars, so set before the other’s I’ve written.
Which you probably didn’t read.
It’s set in the past, when Sniper was a Regular and Mystique was a Newbie, but there’s some recent stuff in there, so don’t try and understand the timing - just enjoy it.
In case you missed parts 4, 5 and 6 here’s a brief summary:
EPISODE IV - A NEW GOAT
Sniper is a special agent for the USRN (United Special Reserve Nations) and a father to a family of 16 kids and husband to Mystique - an hideous woman who likes to spank monkeys, but has a rather nice rack.
The USRN’s president, Tony, a big gay poof, sends urgent news to Sniper telling of the reappearance of Shaneo in the South Atlantic - now known as SmellyBadger - and that Stryke has massed his forces of Newbieclear subs on the Brazilian coast.
Dr Snuggly, the USRN’s informant, told of Shaneo’s plans to the tune of Simon and Garfunkel’s Sound of Silence before falling asleep.
So, the family of assassins, as they are known, set off to stop Smellybadger. Sniper gives him a darn good banning with the special banning-button hidden in the head of a polystyrene monkey, Stryke’s attacks fails, but he manages to escape with the SmellyBadger’s lifeless body, and everyone goes back to Tony’s for some fish fingers.
EPISODE V - STRYKE STRIKES BACK.
Sniper sits drowning his sorrows at the Boots’ pharmacy counter with Tixy-Lix, Cocaine and a slice of apple when Mystique shows up. She tells her husband she has run away with none other than........ *dum-dum dummmmmm* Stryke - Sniper’s arch enemy. The pharmacist reveals himself as El Blokey - one of Stryke’s men - and kidnaps Mystique for spilling info on Stryke’s evil plot. Sniper is left all alone with only a bottle of mouthwash to his name. And half the kids.
At home, Sniper discovers Stryke has his wife’s polystyrene monkey holding his banning button. Ultima Weapon summons him to Tony’s side as Stryke plans his attack using the banning button and a new hat made from SmellyBadger’s body.
A slice of pizza later and Stryke is at the USRN base launching the attack. He directs the banning-button infused Smellybadger towards ssxpro who had turned up for no apparent reason. But at the same time Goatboy, Sniper and Myst’s newest child, spray’s his father’s mouthwash. The beam of banning gets cleansed by the mouthwash and becomes a beam of promotion, making ssxpro a notable. Tony quickly rectifies this.
Stryke escapes with the new secret that banning can be turned into promotions with mouthwash and the polystyrene monkey.
Myst is very sad of the news that her monkey is gone, she cries, various things jiggle.
EPISODE VI - RETURN OF THE REDDY
Someone in strange gold / cat-sick-green robes has taken over the world’s currency, and replaced it with Reddies. Anything will cost 5 reddies - bread, milk, Canada and you have to do a task for the man to get them, which usually crosses the border of insanity.
Tony’s past has come back to haunt him and he’s gone overboard with the whole camp thing and has painted the USRN headquarters bright pink. Plus, he’s got boobs.
Anyway, he sends Sniper and the family off to Egypt where ssxpro is causing trouble after being demoted to a Reg during the last episode. The family find him deep inside a pyramid studying strange inscriptions on the walls - he’s doing absolutely nothing suspicious but is helping Stryke out with the promise of being Notable.
Goatboy somehow figures out the symbols and the pyramid opens up, revealing Stryke’s evil lair filled with Reddies - he’s the one taken over the world’s currency. And, as ssxpro tells - it was actually his father, called Ytont who had taken over the world before in the exact same way. And, Stryke is on his way to attack the USRN headquarters.
When the family arrive, revelations seep out the walls. The reason for Tony’s progression into womanhood is the fact that he was actually Ytont (Tonty backwards) and Stryke’s take-over gave him bad memories. So, in fact,Tony is Stryke’s father and begs to be killed - so ashamed of his campness. Stryke will not, until Tony calls him a big-nose poo-poo pants, then he kicks seven shades of crap out of him.
The end, Sniper realises Stryke isn’t all that bad and they go out to bash some n00bs wiv sticks. Stryke books a boob-enhancement.
THE END
**********
AND NOW .... THE BEGINNING
Presenting!
A FinalFantasyFanatic Production,
A long time ago ... in a chat forum far away
******* EPISODE I - THE TAMPONMAN’S FENCE *********
It was the best of times.
It was the worst of times.
No, scrap the first bit - the times were crapola on toast.
A Newbie-boom. World’s worst nightmare.
Some explanation:
Newbies come down to earth from SPAM-5 the planet made from spam-cans discarded during the World War. Generally, its alright - they come, a few get brutally murdered, but most settle down into Earth’s culture and become, well, Regular.
Occasionally, the whole of SPAM-5 decides to settle on Earth in a so-called Newbie-boom. During this time, none shall live.
All must die.
Mercenaries were hired.
Sniper as one of them.
The worst one, maybe, but he was still one of them.
******
He waited in Tony’s office for him to return from some mission involving radishes and blue PVC sofas. Sniper had never seen Tony before, and imagined him as a battle-hardened, muscular man with a keen mind and a deadly mean-streak.
Boy, was he wrong.
Tony flounced into the room, adjusting the frills at his neck with one hand and sucking finger of the other. A small, shrivelled dog trotted behind him, looking as if someone has hit it repeatedly in the face with a shovel.
“Owie, owie! I cut my fingie!” He said, pouting, then straightened up and cleared his throat. “You must be ... erm ...”
“Sniper.”
“Yes, boy, don’t interrupt! Sniper. You’ve not been doing your job. You’ve only managed to bash 3 Newbies with that big stick I gave you - everyone else is on triple figures. What’s going on!?”
“Well, sir. I just noticed that not ALL the Newbies are bad, some are actually quite nice. That’s all - I couldn’t take an innocent life.”
Tony thought this over a while, then painted his nails and adjusted his make-up. Finally he walked over to his desk and pulled out a chunky sniper rifle. “It’s time you lived up to your name, boy, you’ll use this from now on. Those pesky Newbies’ll be dropping like flies.”
“But .... but ... I’m not a sniper, I just thought it sounded cool. And it doesn’t change my opinion.”
“Nonsense! Nonsense, boy. Why do you think Armatige Shanks throws sinks at people? Now, get going!”
He threw the rifle at Sniper and booted him out the door, shouting “Kill more, boy! More!” after him.
**********
2 days later
**********
Sniper had perfected the use of his rifle through about 10 seconds of backbreaking practise. He could look through the scope, to take a peek at his target and get a clear shot at their head, then he’d spin the rifle around and, holding the barrel, smash their heads in with the butt. It was the perfect method.
Dr. Snuggly called the mercenaries in for their day’s briefing. He was an old fellow, deaf and a little loopy but he had a knack for shooting out your kneecaps with a gun hidden in his walking stick if you didn’t show him some respect.
He hobbled into the cramped office which would have been quite roomy for one, but with fifty grunting, bloodthirsty maniacs there was little room for argument. He looked very worried, his age-wrinkled forehead was somehow furrowed even deeper so that his saggy skin folded over itself several times.
He surveyed the room with his beady, glasslike eyes and sneezed unexpectedly whereupon one feel out. Several people found out just how hard it is to snigger without kneecaps.
“Right,” he crackled, trying to force his eye into the socket already occupied. “Down to business.” He clasped his hands together and several fingers fell off, then murmured something about the smell of broken kneecaps in the morning as more men collapsed on the floor in agony.
“We have a situation. The Newbies are growing stronger, more and more come every day, wave upon wave. Its never been this bad before, but we have to keep fighting, for the respect and upkeep of our world. We also have fewer men than before - most seem to sustain some problems with their kneecaps, and can’t make it into battle. Dirty, rotten, low-down wimps more like!”
He leaned forward toward his men and glared. The thing passing for a wig on his head fell off and flew away.
“The Tamponman, “ he whispered, “The worst of them all. Their ‘leader’ if you will, has built a fence stretching from the FOG to the ruins of Sega. We can’t breach it - and all they do is throw spam and disjointed sentences at us. All our best men have gone, fallen trying to correct grammar. And you are all we have left.” He cleared his throat. “Kill them all,” he muttered, and fell asleep.
**********
Weapon testing area.
**********
BEARDS was so called as, on each of his 7 chins, there grew a beard - all different colours. He was a fine figure of what a sleep-deprived lazy slob should look like and under the permanent influence of alcohol, he dreamed up some crazy stuff.
Most of which was put into production.
“This!” He gurgled, “Is a fluffy pink monkey. Er ... for .. um .. distracting guards who like fluffy pink monkeys. Which is all of ‘em. Stupid fluffy pink monkey lovers,” He staggered around for a few minutes.
“This!” He warbled, “Is ... erm ... well ...” He looked so closely at the object he almost fell into it, “Oh!” he shouted in jubilation, “Last night’s curry.”
“THIS!” He bellowed, scaring himself, “Is a pretty red button!”
“Press it!” Came the cries of one mercenaries, Mr Whitestripes. BEARDS looked very confused for a while.
“What’s it do?’ He mumbled, then shrugged before anyone had a chance to answer and jammed his hand down onto the button. There was a gigantic crash and half the ceiling fell in. Whitestrips had disappeared.
“Oh, yeah.” BEARDS tutted, “Banning button. Silly me. Shame.” He looked overly depressed for about a second then jumped on a table, fell off, stumbled around a bit more then threw his finger at a mass of wobbling stuff huddled in a corner.
“This!” He slurred, “Is the prototype model of a new hi-tech gadget-filled vehicle. I present - the Breasty Hussymobile! Well ... erm ... something like that - a name’s not quite been decided yet.”
The mercenaries stared on in awe - it was amazing. Amazing how such a piece of crap could ever even be thought of by BEARDS.
But then it dawned on them that this wasn’t a drunken idea by BEARDS but, in fact, the work of the mental asylum. That, strange, crazy place of legends where quiet a few people talked nothing but meaningless jabber all day long. It was even rumoured that a few of the chosen ones - the Notables - were even locked up there after dark.
And as they stared at the wobbly mass of nipples barely concealed by cheap, shiny tops and leather skirts, they knew only those with a crazy-disease could think of such a thing.
The rocket-launchers and fluffy dice, on the other hand, probably were of BEARDS invention.
**********
On the battlefield
*********
Sniper had stolen the Breasty Hussymobile, mostly because he was just that kind of guy, and had realised just why it was a prototype. It didn’t seem to have any driving mechanism, he just sat there and the vehicle did what it wanted. It sometimes went forward, but was drawn to caves and piles of rubble, as if searching for something.
Most of the time, though, it decided to skip through different dimensions, changing colours as it went. In a strange green-glowing place where a wise old man told him that “Man with nickel-plated sink plunger not always good plumber” Sniper wasn’t too happy.
“Stop!” He shouted, and the Breasty Hussymobile did. Immediately. He flew over the windscreen, which was made of red ice, and landed in a pile of rusty sewing machines.
“Now!” he shouted in an as authoritative voice as he could muster, “Take me to where I can bash some Newbies! GO!”
The mobile went whilst he was still on the ground. It scooped him up on what could have been called a bonnet if it was a normal car, but more closely represented a small quilt made from squares of toucan feathers amongst the small breasts which bobbled up all over the mobile.
**********
Sniper was sprawled across the ‘bonnet’ of the Breasty Hussymobile, his face nestled in a clump of breasts as it raced across the battlefield.
His tongue lolled out of his unconscious face, “Oh, you’re French, aren’t you?” he mumbled.
“STOP!” someone shouted, the Hussymobile halted and he bolted upright, mumbling something that sounded like “Mwu. Uguthi, lmmm.”
The world focused around him, faces appeared. There was a Newbie standing over him and leapt up, grabbing his rifle and swinging it wildly around his head in a dizzy state.
“plz dnt hrt me i no wana hrt u m8.” it said, in a language he didn’t understand, so he caved it’s face in with his rifle-butt.
“STOP!” someone shouted again, to Sniper himself. It must be a Regular, he thought, as they were speaking english.
Someone leaned over him, but he couldn’t see their face, as their overly-large lady bumps blocked his view, and most of the light. But this woman, or very strange man, had the unmistakable red cape of a Newbie. Sniper sighed. She put the Breasty Hussymobile’s feeble attempt at breasts to shame.
He was thrown off the Hussymobile and onto a hard, stone floor where he scrambled to his feet to get a look at the owner of such lovely assets.
“Disappear,” the woman spoke to the Hussymobile, and it flicked blue for a second, the vanished from all sight.
“Come back,” Sniper said firmly. The mobile had done what he said before, and it would do it again. But it didn’t.
The woman turned to him and Sniper had a chance to look at her face. But he didn’t. He was wondering how two lumps of flesh could be so attractive and how hard it must be not to fall over with the sheer weight.
“You can’t control my ...” She sighed, as if she regretted what she was going to say, “... Breasty Hussymobile.” She probably had an unimpressed look on her face, but Sniper couldn’t afford to look up.
The woman let out a small growl of anger.
“Men!” She shouted, “All they think about is boobs. Boobs, boobs, boobs! All day long!” She jumped up and down in frustration, Sniper had trouble breathing.
“I asked those idiots to build me a vehicle that would respond to my voice, and they come up with this!?” Sniper realised, a little sheepishly, it was not him who had controlled the Hussymobile, but this woman instead.
“This stupid piece of wobbly crap is supposed to save my people! Pathetic!” She took a few deep breaths to calm herself. Up, down. Up, down. Up, down. Sniper drooled. She booted him in the jaw.
“Your people?” Sniper inquired from the far wall where he had been kicked, the shock knocking his vision up to her face. She wasn’t all that, but not particularly ugly either. But two things raised her to a level no other women had reached.
The woman’s brow winkled, then she cleared her throat. “I am Mystique. Leader of the Newbie race, defender of our people against people like you who like nothing but to main, kill, and look at boobs day in, day out.”
What she said may have been true, but it still wasn’t very nice.
“But why do you attack us, then. You speak rubbish all the time and never listen to what we say, then get lippy about something you don’t know about. Tony says we should kill you all.”
Mystique shuddered at the name. “Tony, HA! He is weak.” She leaned in close to Sniper, “And what do YOU think, eh?” she inquired.
He didn’t want to show weakness in the face of the enemy, but when she turned to him with her stern nipples, the words tumbled out of his mouth.
“I don’t like bashing Newbies,” he muttered, “I think that some are alright, some of them must be, or we’d never get any new Regulars. I can’t remember being a Newbie, but I must have been sometime. It’s not fair to poke people because of what they are, not who they are.”
By the fall of Mystique’s chest, Sniper could tell she had relaxed.
“That is good. You have some sense.” She leaned back, Sniper leaned forward. “This network of caves we’re in,” she waved her hamd around the cavern, “Is my school for Newbies. I teach them what they need to know to fit in with the Regulars, so they’ll be left alone until they grow.”
“But, you’re a Newbie - how do you know this?” Sniper asked of her rack, “I’ve been living here for ages, but never spoken anywhere public - so you don’t have any records of me. So do my pupils - we observe what is considered right and proper, and follow the example. Although it’s quite confusing at time - the chosen ones act like Newbies at times.
“But my pupils are restless - they want to break out and talk to people, so they go out on their own and can’t speak properly, so get knocked down. And now, they’ve formed a force of outcasts, the ones who don’t care. So you’ve retaliated, and tried to destroy all Newbies - the bad and the good.” She nodded to the other’s filling the cave, none of whom were interesting enough to break Sniper’s stare.
Mystique leaned forward, Sniper let out a small cry. “Will you help us?” She said, softly. “Will you help us to stop this war, and teach the Newbie’s to act properly? It will be a tough journey, but a Regular would give us power. So?”
“Go on then,” he shrugged, “why the hell not?”
**********
They took the Breasty Hussymobile through the underground cave system which was Mystique’s domain. The tunnels were wide enough to drive through, and where they weren’t the mobile squidged through, pushing breasts in Sniper’s face, but his eye’s never left Mystique’s. Well, they never left the two round, pointy bits he had convinced himself were her eyes.
There were heading for the Tamponman’s headquarters - a giant spam-can nestled between two domed hills. They had reasoned that, without a leader, the Newbies would have no-one to try and impress and show off to - no-one to boast to how many Regulars they had confused into fits and muddled into a state of internal combustion with bad grammar.
So they raced onwards and, eventually, upwards. Emerging form a concealed cave-mouth behind a discarded pile of vowels, they were on the battlefield behind the Tamponman’s Fence he had constructed to stop any sane person trying to help his spelling.
Mystique turned the Breasty Hussymobile blue again, and it became invisible so they could go along undetected. Along the way she had taught Sniper her plan.
It would be quite easy to infiltrate the base, as it was just a big tin can, and for the most part, Newbies were very stupid and easily fooled. Once inside, they would go to the top, kick the Tamponman’s bootang, save the world and make it a better place, then maybe get married. Mystique had always wanted to get married, and amongst the wobbling mass of boobs that was the Breasty Hussymobile, she decided Sniper wasn’t too bad.
The best regular she’d ever met, anyway.
He had no complaints, if he could look into her eyes for a only few more seconds.
They came to a checkpoint along the road to the base.
None of the Newbies knew what a checkpoint was, but it sounded important so they dotted a few around the landscape and hoped they would do something.
There was a Newbie in the small hut beside a tiny barrier which had enough space on each side of it all the unsold X-Boxes of the world could be lined up side by side and the barrier would still be a small dot on the horizon. But Mystique stopped anyway.
“wht do u wnt?” the Newbie said sharply. Mystique cleared her throat.
“whr is da tampnmn? i gota sprise 4 hm - sme chees n a –” she paused and rummaged around in the boot, “- tbe of smrtes, a hmmr, sm scks, a bck dor n sum beef stks.”
The Newbie looked confused, as they tended to do, and Sniper wondered if Mystique was speaking their language properly.
The Newbie spoke, still confused.
“thers no1 her clld dat nme.”
Mystique looked panicked for a second. How did this Newbie not know the Tamponman, he was their leader. Maybe this one was just stupider than most.
“u knw,” she pressed, “n da bg spm can. 2 da nrth, da bse of ur rler?”
The Newbie’s face brightened in recognition, “u mean stryke. hes our rler, he sys we r stng nd wil win da wr da regs ave mde on us.” He climbed out of his hut and opened the barrier for them, Mystique burned through it in a state of shock, knocking the Newbie into a river of unused capital letters and full stops.
“Stryke!” She shouted, “Stryke is their leader?!” She recalled all her silent infiltration's into the world above her domain, and knew that Stryke was a Newbie-hater is ever there was one. He picked on the weak, the innocent and the stupid then ridiculed them into a horrible, painful death. She had even seen him do this to Regulars, who were proud of their new ranking.
Sniper was muttering to himself, trying to figure out how Mystique got so purdy and how Stryke could be ruling the Newbies.
“They’re beautiful,” He said, staring at Mystique’s rack, “But Stryke hates Newbies, why would he want to rule them ... so round and firm ... and he kept it secret, he’s ... so big and juicy ... not acting properly, since when has ... two lumps been so tantalising ... a Regular helped the Newbies?”
Mystique coughed way too enthusiastically.
“Well, besides me, who’s ever helped the Newbies? They’re just too perfect for words ... maybe he wants to help them - like me. Maybe ... ooooo mamma ... he sees that they’re people too ... bouncy bouncy ... and is trying to educate them so they’ll fit in ... my mouth... with everyone else. But he’s never been ... mmmm-hmmmm ... nice before, why start now?” He reached out a tentative hand, Mystique grabbed it.
“Do that again and I’ll cut ‘em off.” She leaned in to him.
“I’ll rip ‘em off.” She stared, hard, into his eyes, growling slightly.
“I’ll smash ‘em.”
Sniper whimpered.
**********
The giant spam-can rose on the horizon like a middle-finger to all that was right and good and spelt properly
The Breasty Hussymobile raced onwards, wobbling as always, skipping occasionally between dimensions and time-plains, and the two hills the base was sunk between also rose up.
They were round and big and lush enough to take Sniper’s eyes from mystique for a second or two.
There were more and more Newbies hanging threateningly around the bleak, muddy country but Mystique mowed them down . A few got caught on the bonnet, and were so nervous and confused at their closest experience to so many breasts, they exploded, sending chunks of spam flying everywhere.
They left the Hussymobile in a nearby cave and hammered a few fox tails and white plastic wall-brackets into the boggy ground to ward off any intruders and, if not, give them something to talk about.
The entrance to the Spam-can Base was a small door cut into the metal with sharp, rusty edges coated in crusty spam.
Inside the base it was even worse. Nothing had been done to make the place any more homely, except for the three flying ducks nailed to the far wall. The ground was bare of any furniture, and a small toilet and sink were the only sign of decency, although they were made of a brown-green plastic.
There was a small ladder leading up to a platform some five foot off the ground constructed neatly of punctuation marks left out of sentences slotted together to make intricate patterns across the platform.
Atop it, on a throne of commas, sat Stryke.
He smiled. “Ah, my bride has come.”
Mystique looked very rather annoyed. “I am to marry Sniper,” she said, “He’s the only man who hasn’t made some crude joke about my bra size.”
Stryke looked a little embarrassed, the spoke out softly. “That’s why I’ve build my base between these two hills. I thought you’d feel at home, with some bumps.”
Mystique growled. “How do you know me, anyway?” She questioned. Sniper was going to ask some real questions, like what the hell Stryke was doing here, but Mystique looked at him with those stern nipples, and he silenced himself.
“You may not have spoken in public, Mystique, where others can see you, but I can sense a Newbie a thousand miles away - my Strykey Sense. I knew you were there all the time. Maybe your assets got in the way of your vision. I looked right at you a hundred times!” He laughed out loud.
Mystique jumped onto the platform and booted him full-on in the groin. Stryke collapsed. She pulled him up by the hair (normal, not pubic) and stared into his eyes.
“My mother had large breasts. I inherited them, now shuddup.”
She threw him onto his throne.
“Now,” she said calmly, “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’ll never tell you!” Stryke shouted, and absent-mindedly covered his genitals.
“But I am a master of Po-Kin-Iy!” Mystique retorted, “POKE!” And stabbed one of his eyes.
“Now, TALK!”
“OK. OK OK OK OK OK OK OK!” Stryke screamed, Mystique’s finger emerged form his eye socket. He took a deep breath.
“I hate Newbies. I hate them all. I’ve been fighting them for years but I can never win. But then I thought up my plan.
“I invited them whole of SPAM-5 for a tea party, and the Regulars thought it to be a Newbie-boom, so they attacked. I told the Newbie’s you wanted a war, and they would stand for it, so they followed my instructions and fought back.
“I hoped they would all get killed, Regular are stronger than Newbies, but they beat you back, beat you into submission. I thought I had sent them to their deaths, but they were winning.” He sighed and looked at Sniper.
“But you Regulars are nothing without me. I am the one who picks up on the little things you miss, the misspelt words, the poorly constructed sentences, the small cracks which allow you to get inside and rip a Newbie apart. You. Were Useless.” He ground his teeth and sat back, and hand still draping casually over his crotch.
“So I had to it here and watch the Regulars get beaten. It was horrible. But then you came, Mrs Mystique, as I knew you would.
“Together we can rule the Newbies and the Regulars, you one and me the other. We can destroy the weak, the feeble, and rule the world. Together, my beauty, always together.”
Mystique laughed this time. “I don’t want to kill anyone. I want to teach them to get along, spell properly, and have a nice time. Not kill for the sake of killing.”
Sniper looked taken aback. “Well, that could work ...” he started, “ ... Nah. You must kill them all!”
Mystique shook her head, and along with it her bulging bust, and comforted Sniper’s lustful groan. She poked Stryke’s other eye and yanked him up by the ear.
“Get lost Stryke, “ She said disapprovingly, and threw his from his tower.
**********
“NEWBIES!” She cried through the loudspeakers on the Breasty Hussymobile. She spoke like a slack-jawed yokel, as to imitate Stryke.
“Go to the underground cave system and do what Mystique tells you to.” She ordered, and the Newbies did so, like the sheep they were.
The Newbie-boom was over, the Newbies hid away to be taught the way of the Chatforums them emerged one by one to integrate into the world, accepted by all.
There were a few runaways, but they were easily torn down.
Mystique took up the purple cloak of a Regular for her brave efforts and Sniper was elected to Notable for his loyalty to Mystique.
Well, Mystique’s boobs at least.
They would get married in a month.
THE END.
WELL, SORT OF.
Sorry to all those involved, especially Mystique.
Thanks for reading (if, indeed you did).
FFF
Which you probably didn’t read.
It’s set in the past, when Sniper was a Regular and Mystique was a Newbie, but there’s some recent stuff in there, so don’t try and understand the timing - just enjoy it.
In case you missed parts 4, 5 and 6 here’s a brief summary:
EPISODE IV - A NEW GOAT
Sniper is a special agent for the USRN (United Special Reserve Nations) and a father to a family of 16 kids and husband to Mystique - an hideous woman who likes to spank monkeys, but has a rather nice rack.
The USRN’s president, Tony, a big gay poof, sends urgent news to Sniper telling of the reappearance of Shaneo in the South Atlantic - now known as SmellyBadger - and that Stryke has massed his forces of Newbieclear subs on the Brazilian coast.
Dr Snuggly, the USRN’s informant, told of Shaneo’s plans to the tune of Simon and Garfunkel’s Sound of Silence before falling asleep.
So, the family of assassins, as they are known, set off to stop Smellybadger. Sniper gives him a darn good banning with the special banning-button hidden in the head of a polystyrene monkey, Stryke’s attacks fails, but he manages to escape with the SmellyBadger’s lifeless body, and everyone goes back to Tony’s for some fish fingers.
EPISODE V - STRYKE STRIKES BACK.
Sniper sits drowning his sorrows at the Boots’ pharmacy counter with Tixy-Lix, Cocaine and a slice of apple when Mystique shows up. She tells her husband she has run away with none other than........ *dum-dum dummmmmm* Stryke - Sniper’s arch enemy. The pharmacist reveals himself as El Blokey - one of Stryke’s men - and kidnaps Mystique for spilling info on Stryke’s evil plot. Sniper is left all alone with only a bottle of mouthwash to his name. And half the kids.
At home, Sniper discovers Stryke has his wife’s polystyrene monkey holding his banning button. Ultima Weapon summons him to Tony’s side as Stryke plans his attack using the banning button and a new hat made from SmellyBadger’s body.
A slice of pizza later and Stryke is at the USRN base launching the attack. He directs the banning-button infused Smellybadger towards ssxpro who had turned up for no apparent reason. But at the same time Goatboy, Sniper and Myst’s newest child, spray’s his father’s mouthwash. The beam of banning gets cleansed by the mouthwash and becomes a beam of promotion, making ssxpro a notable. Tony quickly rectifies this.
Stryke escapes with the new secret that banning can be turned into promotions with mouthwash and the polystyrene monkey.
Myst is very sad of the news that her monkey is gone, she cries, various things jiggle.
EPISODE VI - RETURN OF THE REDDY
Someone in strange gold / cat-sick-green robes has taken over the world’s currency, and replaced it with Reddies. Anything will cost 5 reddies - bread, milk, Canada and you have to do a task for the man to get them, which usually crosses the border of insanity.
Tony’s past has come back to haunt him and he’s gone overboard with the whole camp thing and has painted the USRN headquarters bright pink. Plus, he’s got boobs.
Anyway, he sends Sniper and the family off to Egypt where ssxpro is causing trouble after being demoted to a Reg during the last episode. The family find him deep inside a pyramid studying strange inscriptions on the walls - he’s doing absolutely nothing suspicious but is helping Stryke out with the promise of being Notable.
Goatboy somehow figures out the symbols and the pyramid opens up, revealing Stryke’s evil lair filled with Reddies - he’s the one taken over the world’s currency. And, as ssxpro tells - it was actually his father, called Ytont who had taken over the world before in the exact same way. And, Stryke is on his way to attack the USRN headquarters.
When the family arrive, revelations seep out the walls. The reason for Tony’s progression into womanhood is the fact that he was actually Ytont (Tonty backwards) and Stryke’s take-over gave him bad memories. So, in fact,Tony is Stryke’s father and begs to be killed - so ashamed of his campness. Stryke will not, until Tony calls him a big-nose poo-poo pants, then he kicks seven shades of crap out of him.
The end, Sniper realises Stryke isn’t all that bad and they go out to bash some n00bs wiv sticks. Stryke books a boob-enhancement.
THE END
**********
AND NOW .... THE BEGINNING
Presenting!
A FinalFantasyFanatic Production,
A long time ago ... in a chat forum far away
******* EPISODE I - THE TAMPONMAN’S FENCE *********
It was the best of times.
It was the worst of times.
No, scrap the first bit - the times were crapola on toast.
A Newbie-boom. World’s worst nightmare.
Some explanation:
Newbies come down to earth from SPAM-5 the planet made from spam-cans discarded during the World War. Generally, its alright - they come, a few get brutally murdered, but most settle down into Earth’s culture and become, well, Regular.
Occasionally, the whole of SPAM-5 decides to settle on Earth in a so-called Newbie-boom. During this time, none shall live.
All must die.
Mercenaries were hired.
Sniper as one of them.
The worst one, maybe, but he was still one of them.
******
He waited in Tony’s office for him to return from some mission involving radishes and blue PVC sofas. Sniper had never seen Tony before, and imagined him as a battle-hardened, muscular man with a keen mind and a deadly mean-streak.
Boy, was he wrong.
Tony flounced into the room, adjusting the frills at his neck with one hand and sucking finger of the other. A small, shrivelled dog trotted behind him, looking as if someone has hit it repeatedly in the face with a shovel.
“Owie, owie! I cut my fingie!” He said, pouting, then straightened up and cleared his throat. “You must be ... erm ...”
“Sniper.”
“Yes, boy, don’t interrupt! Sniper. You’ve not been doing your job. You’ve only managed to bash 3 Newbies with that big stick I gave you - everyone else is on triple figures. What’s going on!?”
“Well, sir. I just noticed that not ALL the Newbies are bad, some are actually quite nice. That’s all - I couldn’t take an innocent life.”
Tony thought this over a while, then painted his nails and adjusted his make-up. Finally he walked over to his desk and pulled out a chunky sniper rifle. “It’s time you lived up to your name, boy, you’ll use this from now on. Those pesky Newbies’ll be dropping like flies.”
“But .... but ... I’m not a sniper, I just thought it sounded cool. And it doesn’t change my opinion.”
“Nonsense! Nonsense, boy. Why do you think Armatige Shanks throws sinks at people? Now, get going!”
He threw the rifle at Sniper and booted him out the door, shouting “Kill more, boy! More!” after him.
**********
2 days later
**********
Sniper had perfected the use of his rifle through about 10 seconds of backbreaking practise. He could look through the scope, to take a peek at his target and get a clear shot at their head, then he’d spin the rifle around and, holding the barrel, smash their heads in with the butt. It was the perfect method.
Dr. Snuggly called the mercenaries in for their day’s briefing. He was an old fellow, deaf and a little loopy but he had a knack for shooting out your kneecaps with a gun hidden in his walking stick if you didn’t show him some respect.
He hobbled into the cramped office which would have been quite roomy for one, but with fifty grunting, bloodthirsty maniacs there was little room for argument. He looked very worried, his age-wrinkled forehead was somehow furrowed even deeper so that his saggy skin folded over itself several times.
He surveyed the room with his beady, glasslike eyes and sneezed unexpectedly whereupon one feel out. Several people found out just how hard it is to snigger without kneecaps.
“Right,” he crackled, trying to force his eye into the socket already occupied. “Down to business.” He clasped his hands together and several fingers fell off, then murmured something about the smell of broken kneecaps in the morning as more men collapsed on the floor in agony.
“We have a situation. The Newbies are growing stronger, more and more come every day, wave upon wave. Its never been this bad before, but we have to keep fighting, for the respect and upkeep of our world. We also have fewer men than before - most seem to sustain some problems with their kneecaps, and can’t make it into battle. Dirty, rotten, low-down wimps more like!”
He leaned forward toward his men and glared. The thing passing for a wig on his head fell off and flew away.
“The Tamponman, “ he whispered, “The worst of them all. Their ‘leader’ if you will, has built a fence stretching from the FOG to the ruins of Sega. We can’t breach it - and all they do is throw spam and disjointed sentences at us. All our best men have gone, fallen trying to correct grammar. And you are all we have left.” He cleared his throat. “Kill them all,” he muttered, and fell asleep.
**********
Weapon testing area.
**********
BEARDS was so called as, on each of his 7 chins, there grew a beard - all different colours. He was a fine figure of what a sleep-deprived lazy slob should look like and under the permanent influence of alcohol, he dreamed up some crazy stuff.
Most of which was put into production.
“This!” He gurgled, “Is a fluffy pink monkey. Er ... for .. um .. distracting guards who like fluffy pink monkeys. Which is all of ‘em. Stupid fluffy pink monkey lovers,” He staggered around for a few minutes.
“This!” He warbled, “Is ... erm ... well ...” He looked so closely at the object he almost fell into it, “Oh!” he shouted in jubilation, “Last night’s curry.”
“THIS!” He bellowed, scaring himself, “Is a pretty red button!”
“Press it!” Came the cries of one mercenaries, Mr Whitestripes. BEARDS looked very confused for a while.
“What’s it do?’ He mumbled, then shrugged before anyone had a chance to answer and jammed his hand down onto the button. There was a gigantic crash and half the ceiling fell in. Whitestrips had disappeared.
“Oh, yeah.” BEARDS tutted, “Banning button. Silly me. Shame.” He looked overly depressed for about a second then jumped on a table, fell off, stumbled around a bit more then threw his finger at a mass of wobbling stuff huddled in a corner.
“This!” He slurred, “Is the prototype model of a new hi-tech gadget-filled vehicle. I present - the Breasty Hussymobile! Well ... erm ... something like that - a name’s not quite been decided yet.”
The mercenaries stared on in awe - it was amazing. Amazing how such a piece of crap could ever even be thought of by BEARDS.
But then it dawned on them that this wasn’t a drunken idea by BEARDS but, in fact, the work of the mental asylum. That, strange, crazy place of legends where quiet a few people talked nothing but meaningless jabber all day long. It was even rumoured that a few of the chosen ones - the Notables - were even locked up there after dark.
And as they stared at the wobbly mass of nipples barely concealed by cheap, shiny tops and leather skirts, they knew only those with a crazy-disease could think of such a thing.
The rocket-launchers and fluffy dice, on the other hand, probably were of BEARDS invention.
**********
On the battlefield
*********
Sniper had stolen the Breasty Hussymobile, mostly because he was just that kind of guy, and had realised just why it was a prototype. It didn’t seem to have any driving mechanism, he just sat there and the vehicle did what it wanted. It sometimes went forward, but was drawn to caves and piles of rubble, as if searching for something.
Most of the time, though, it decided to skip through different dimensions, changing colours as it went. In a strange green-glowing place where a wise old man told him that “Man with nickel-plated sink plunger not always good plumber” Sniper wasn’t too happy.
“Stop!” He shouted, and the Breasty Hussymobile did. Immediately. He flew over the windscreen, which was made of red ice, and landed in a pile of rusty sewing machines.
“Now!” he shouted in an as authoritative voice as he could muster, “Take me to where I can bash some Newbies! GO!”
The mobile went whilst he was still on the ground. It scooped him up on what could have been called a bonnet if it was a normal car, but more closely represented a small quilt made from squares of toucan feathers amongst the small breasts which bobbled up all over the mobile.
**********
Sniper was sprawled across the ‘bonnet’ of the Breasty Hussymobile, his face nestled in a clump of breasts as it raced across the battlefield.
His tongue lolled out of his unconscious face, “Oh, you’re French, aren’t you?” he mumbled.
“STOP!” someone shouted, the Hussymobile halted and he bolted upright, mumbling something that sounded like “Mwu. Uguthi, lmmm.”
The world focused around him, faces appeared. There was a Newbie standing over him and leapt up, grabbing his rifle and swinging it wildly around his head in a dizzy state.
“plz dnt hrt me i no wana hrt u m8.” it said, in a language he didn’t understand, so he caved it’s face in with his rifle-butt.
“STOP!” someone shouted again, to Sniper himself. It must be a Regular, he thought, as they were speaking english.
Someone leaned over him, but he couldn’t see their face, as their overly-large lady bumps blocked his view, and most of the light. But this woman, or very strange man, had the unmistakable red cape of a Newbie. Sniper sighed. She put the Breasty Hussymobile’s feeble attempt at breasts to shame.
He was thrown off the Hussymobile and onto a hard, stone floor where he scrambled to his feet to get a look at the owner of such lovely assets.
“Disappear,” the woman spoke to the Hussymobile, and it flicked blue for a second, the vanished from all sight.
“Come back,” Sniper said firmly. The mobile had done what he said before, and it would do it again. But it didn’t.
The woman turned to him and Sniper had a chance to look at her face. But he didn’t. He was wondering how two lumps of flesh could be so attractive and how hard it must be not to fall over with the sheer weight.
“You can’t control my ...” She sighed, as if she regretted what she was going to say, “... Breasty Hussymobile.” She probably had an unimpressed look on her face, but Sniper couldn’t afford to look up.
The woman let out a small growl of anger.
“Men!” She shouted, “All they think about is boobs. Boobs, boobs, boobs! All day long!” She jumped up and down in frustration, Sniper had trouble breathing.
“I asked those idiots to build me a vehicle that would respond to my voice, and they come up with this!?” Sniper realised, a little sheepishly, it was not him who had controlled the Hussymobile, but this woman instead.
“This stupid piece of wobbly crap is supposed to save my people! Pathetic!” She took a few deep breaths to calm herself. Up, down. Up, down. Up, down. Sniper drooled. She booted him in the jaw.
“Your people?” Sniper inquired from the far wall where he had been kicked, the shock knocking his vision up to her face. She wasn’t all that, but not particularly ugly either. But two things raised her to a level no other women had reached.
The woman’s brow winkled, then she cleared her throat. “I am Mystique. Leader of the Newbie race, defender of our people against people like you who like nothing but to main, kill, and look at boobs day in, day out.”
What she said may have been true, but it still wasn’t very nice.
“But why do you attack us, then. You speak rubbish all the time and never listen to what we say, then get lippy about something you don’t know about. Tony says we should kill you all.”
Mystique shuddered at the name. “Tony, HA! He is weak.” She leaned in close to Sniper, “And what do YOU think, eh?” she inquired.
He didn’t want to show weakness in the face of the enemy, but when she turned to him with her stern nipples, the words tumbled out of his mouth.
“I don’t like bashing Newbies,” he muttered, “I think that some are alright, some of them must be, or we’d never get any new Regulars. I can’t remember being a Newbie, but I must have been sometime. It’s not fair to poke people because of what they are, not who they are.”
By the fall of Mystique’s chest, Sniper could tell she had relaxed.
“That is good. You have some sense.” She leaned back, Sniper leaned forward. “This network of caves we’re in,” she waved her hamd around the cavern, “Is my school for Newbies. I teach them what they need to know to fit in with the Regulars, so they’ll be left alone until they grow.”
“But, you’re a Newbie - how do you know this?” Sniper asked of her rack, “I’ve been living here for ages, but never spoken anywhere public - so you don’t have any records of me. So do my pupils - we observe what is considered right and proper, and follow the example. Although it’s quite confusing at time - the chosen ones act like Newbies at times.
“But my pupils are restless - they want to break out and talk to people, so they go out on their own and can’t speak properly, so get knocked down. And now, they’ve formed a force of outcasts, the ones who don’t care. So you’ve retaliated, and tried to destroy all Newbies - the bad and the good.” She nodded to the other’s filling the cave, none of whom were interesting enough to break Sniper’s stare.
Mystique leaned forward, Sniper let out a small cry. “Will you help us?” She said, softly. “Will you help us to stop this war, and teach the Newbie’s to act properly? It will be a tough journey, but a Regular would give us power. So?”
“Go on then,” he shrugged, “why the hell not?”
**********
They took the Breasty Hussymobile through the underground cave system which was Mystique’s domain. The tunnels were wide enough to drive through, and where they weren’t the mobile squidged through, pushing breasts in Sniper’s face, but his eye’s never left Mystique’s. Well, they never left the two round, pointy bits he had convinced himself were her eyes.
There were heading for the Tamponman’s headquarters - a giant spam-can nestled between two domed hills. They had reasoned that, without a leader, the Newbies would have no-one to try and impress and show off to - no-one to boast to how many Regulars they had confused into fits and muddled into a state of internal combustion with bad grammar.
So they raced onwards and, eventually, upwards. Emerging form a concealed cave-mouth behind a discarded pile of vowels, they were on the battlefield behind the Tamponman’s Fence he had constructed to stop any sane person trying to help his spelling.
Mystique turned the Breasty Hussymobile blue again, and it became invisible so they could go along undetected. Along the way she had taught Sniper her plan.
It would be quite easy to infiltrate the base, as it was just a big tin can, and for the most part, Newbies were very stupid and easily fooled. Once inside, they would go to the top, kick the Tamponman’s bootang, save the world and make it a better place, then maybe get married. Mystique had always wanted to get married, and amongst the wobbling mass of boobs that was the Breasty Hussymobile, she decided Sniper wasn’t too bad.
The best regular she’d ever met, anyway.
He had no complaints, if he could look into her eyes for a only few more seconds.
They came to a checkpoint along the road to the base.
None of the Newbies knew what a checkpoint was, but it sounded important so they dotted a few around the landscape and hoped they would do something.
There was a Newbie in the small hut beside a tiny barrier which had enough space on each side of it all the unsold X-Boxes of the world could be lined up side by side and the barrier would still be a small dot on the horizon. But Mystique stopped anyway.
“wht do u wnt?” the Newbie said sharply. Mystique cleared her throat.
“whr is da tampnmn? i gota sprise 4 hm - sme chees n a –” she paused and rummaged around in the boot, “- tbe of smrtes, a hmmr, sm scks, a bck dor n sum beef stks.”
The Newbie looked confused, as they tended to do, and Sniper wondered if Mystique was speaking their language properly.
The Newbie spoke, still confused.
“thers no1 her clld dat nme.”
Mystique looked panicked for a second. How did this Newbie not know the Tamponman, he was their leader. Maybe this one was just stupider than most.
“u knw,” she pressed, “n da bg spm can. 2 da nrth, da bse of ur rler?”
The Newbie’s face brightened in recognition, “u mean stryke. hes our rler, he sys we r stng nd wil win da wr da regs ave mde on us.” He climbed out of his hut and opened the barrier for them, Mystique burned through it in a state of shock, knocking the Newbie into a river of unused capital letters and full stops.
“Stryke!” She shouted, “Stryke is their leader?!” She recalled all her silent infiltration's into the world above her domain, and knew that Stryke was a Newbie-hater is ever there was one. He picked on the weak, the innocent and the stupid then ridiculed them into a horrible, painful death. She had even seen him do this to Regulars, who were proud of their new ranking.
Sniper was muttering to himself, trying to figure out how Mystique got so purdy and how Stryke could be ruling the Newbies.
“They’re beautiful,” He said, staring at Mystique’s rack, “But Stryke hates Newbies, why would he want to rule them ... so round and firm ... and he kept it secret, he’s ... so big and juicy ... not acting properly, since when has ... two lumps been so tantalising ... a Regular helped the Newbies?”
Mystique coughed way too enthusiastically.
“Well, besides me, who’s ever helped the Newbies? They’re just too perfect for words ... maybe he wants to help them - like me. Maybe ... ooooo mamma ... he sees that they’re people too ... bouncy bouncy ... and is trying to educate them so they’ll fit in ... my mouth... with everyone else. But he’s never been ... mmmm-hmmmm ... nice before, why start now?” He reached out a tentative hand, Mystique grabbed it.
“Do that again and I’ll cut ‘em off.” She leaned in to him.
“I’ll rip ‘em off.” She stared, hard, into his eyes, growling slightly.
“I’ll smash ‘em.”
Sniper whimpered.
**********
The giant spam-can rose on the horizon like a middle-finger to all that was right and good and spelt properly
The Breasty Hussymobile raced onwards, wobbling as always, skipping occasionally between dimensions and time-plains, and the two hills the base was sunk between also rose up.
They were round and big and lush enough to take Sniper’s eyes from mystique for a second or two.
There were more and more Newbies hanging threateningly around the bleak, muddy country but Mystique mowed them down . A few got caught on the bonnet, and were so nervous and confused at their closest experience to so many breasts, they exploded, sending chunks of spam flying everywhere.
They left the Hussymobile in a nearby cave and hammered a few fox tails and white plastic wall-brackets into the boggy ground to ward off any intruders and, if not, give them something to talk about.
The entrance to the Spam-can Base was a small door cut into the metal with sharp, rusty edges coated in crusty spam.
Inside the base it was even worse. Nothing had been done to make the place any more homely, except for the three flying ducks nailed to the far wall. The ground was bare of any furniture, and a small toilet and sink were the only sign of decency, although they were made of a brown-green plastic.
There was a small ladder leading up to a platform some five foot off the ground constructed neatly of punctuation marks left out of sentences slotted together to make intricate patterns across the platform.
Atop it, on a throne of commas, sat Stryke.
He smiled. “Ah, my bride has come.”
Mystique looked very rather annoyed. “I am to marry Sniper,” she said, “He’s the only man who hasn’t made some crude joke about my bra size.”
Stryke looked a little embarrassed, the spoke out softly. “That’s why I’ve build my base between these two hills. I thought you’d feel at home, with some bumps.”
Mystique growled. “How do you know me, anyway?” She questioned. Sniper was going to ask some real questions, like what the hell Stryke was doing here, but Mystique looked at him with those stern nipples, and he silenced himself.
“You may not have spoken in public, Mystique, where others can see you, but I can sense a Newbie a thousand miles away - my Strykey Sense. I knew you were there all the time. Maybe your assets got in the way of your vision. I looked right at you a hundred times!” He laughed out loud.
Mystique jumped onto the platform and booted him full-on in the groin. Stryke collapsed. She pulled him up by the hair (normal, not pubic) and stared into his eyes.
“My mother had large breasts. I inherited them, now shuddup.”
She threw him onto his throne.
“Now,” she said calmly, “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’ll never tell you!” Stryke shouted, and absent-mindedly covered his genitals.
“But I am a master of Po-Kin-Iy!” Mystique retorted, “POKE!” And stabbed one of his eyes.
“Now, TALK!”
“OK. OK OK OK OK OK OK OK!” Stryke screamed, Mystique’s finger emerged form his eye socket. He took a deep breath.
“I hate Newbies. I hate them all. I’ve been fighting them for years but I can never win. But then I thought up my plan.
“I invited them whole of SPAM-5 for a tea party, and the Regulars thought it to be a Newbie-boom, so they attacked. I told the Newbie’s you wanted a war, and they would stand for it, so they followed my instructions and fought back.
“I hoped they would all get killed, Regular are stronger than Newbies, but they beat you back, beat you into submission. I thought I had sent them to their deaths, but they were winning.” He sighed and looked at Sniper.
“But you Regulars are nothing without me. I am the one who picks up on the little things you miss, the misspelt words, the poorly constructed sentences, the small cracks which allow you to get inside and rip a Newbie apart. You. Were Useless.” He ground his teeth and sat back, and hand still draping casually over his crotch.
“So I had to it here and watch the Regulars get beaten. It was horrible. But then you came, Mrs Mystique, as I knew you would.
“Together we can rule the Newbies and the Regulars, you one and me the other. We can destroy the weak, the feeble, and rule the world. Together, my beauty, always together.”
Mystique laughed this time. “I don’t want to kill anyone. I want to teach them to get along, spell properly, and have a nice time. Not kill for the sake of killing.”
Sniper looked taken aback. “Well, that could work ...” he started, “ ... Nah. You must kill them all!”
Mystique shook her head, and along with it her bulging bust, and comforted Sniper’s lustful groan. She poked Stryke’s other eye and yanked him up by the ear.
“Get lost Stryke, “ She said disapprovingly, and threw his from his tower.
**********
“NEWBIES!” She cried through the loudspeakers on the Breasty Hussymobile. She spoke like a slack-jawed yokel, as to imitate Stryke.
“Go to the underground cave system and do what Mystique tells you to.” She ordered, and the Newbies did so, like the sheep they were.
The Newbie-boom was over, the Newbies hid away to be taught the way of the Chatforums them emerged one by one to integrate into the world, accepted by all.
There were a few runaways, but they were easily torn down.
Mystique took up the purple cloak of a Regular for her brave efforts and Sniper was elected to Notable for his loyalty to Mystique.
Well, Mystique’s boobs at least.
They would get married in a month.
THE END.
WELL, SORT OF.
Sorry to all those involved, especially Mystique.
Thanks for reading (if, indeed you did).
FFF
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*Looks embarrased*
Yeah, er, sorry about thet Mystique but it's 'your thang' now so you'll just have to put up with it for another 2 episodes. I'll tone it down a bit next time : )
Yeah, er, sorry about thet Mystique but it's 'your thang' now so you'll just have to put up with it for another 2 episodes. I'll tone it down a bit next time : )
*Hides face*
Judah Ben-Hur wrote:
> No lies, 21 page downs. 21!
It was only 11 when I wrote it out.
Was it really that long? Seemed qiute short when I wrote it.
But, then again, I have wrote 46 pages of a book (30,000 words) now that IS long.
And BEARDS, how do you explain your name in plural - you must have lots of chins, and therefore lots of beards. Seemed logical to me.
Cheers for the good feedback : )
> No lies, 21 page downs. 21!
It was only 11 when I wrote it out.
Was it really that long? Seemed qiute short when I wrote it.
But, then again, I have wrote 46 pages of a book (30,000 words) now that IS long.
And BEARDS, how do you explain your name in plural - you must have lots of chins, and therefore lots of beards. Seemed logical to me.
Cheers for the good feedback : )
Rapid Fire wrote:
> Lol oh and JBH have you read Armageddon in Gerridville? It's no where
> near this standard but you are in it! :-P
I am? AAAaaa. Lets just see about that.
> Lol oh and JBH have you read Armageddon in Gerridville? It's no where
> near this standard but you are in it! :-P
I am? AAAaaa. Lets just see about that.
No lies, 21 page downs. 21!
Lol oh and JBH have you read Armageddon in Gerridville? It's no where near this standard but you are in it! :-P
So. Long.
It deserves a GAD just for effort and RSI inducing typing.
It deserves a GAD just for effort and RSI inducing typing.
You have no idea how disturbingly accurately you recreated how other people see me. Well, from what they've told me it seems quite familiar anyway. Except the multiple chins bit.
Thankee kindly
Yay! I finally finished reading this! And oh, how my life is brightened! This is really amazing. Shame I wasn't in it, but then again I don't fit in. I have correct grammar, reasonable spelling and most of my posts are over 1 line long. And I'm a newbie. So sue me. But yeah, I love it.
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