From: Lady Stardust-Sonata To: All Msg #2, 13-Jul-92 01:59am Subject: in Xanadu, did Kubla Khan This area happens to be owned by me. Being as I believe that there are already enough chatter echoes around, I'm converting this here sucker into an NES. Please stop posting chatter in here. You're free to enter into the story if you want, tho'. LSd sits back in her director's chair, in Flog's lap. "Roll 'em..." --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: In times of need, do the dirty deed. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 [2] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. From: Lady Stardust-Sonata To: All Msg #3, 13-Jul-92 02:03am Subject: what's the buzz? MEMORANDUM: From: Premier Bob Rae To: All Dear Sirs/Madams, As you are all aware, legislation permitting prostitution with a license has been passed. Additional legislation permitting the maintainance of 'gambling houses' or 'casinos' has also been passed. A Royal Commission has been appointed to ensure the regulation of these new and exciting industries. Senator Richard Visage has been chosen to head this collective as we feel his experience with such matters will be of great benefit. The first gambling house has opened in Ottawa. It will be observed indefinitely before more such edifices will be permitted, as it is the will of the government that the effect on the neighboring communities should be measured before more are authorized. The gambling house is located at 21 Stardust Boulevard. It includes an attached hotel, nightclub, and many other amenities. It is owned by Apocalypse Inc., and any questions should be directed to their designated representative, Mr G. "Reg" Reaper. Bob Rae Premier of Ontario --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: ..the fuse in kerosine, I too become a dissident. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 [3] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here From: Lady Stardust-Sonata To: Flog Sonata Msg #4, 13-Jul-92 02:05am Subject: tell me what's a happening The Grim "Reg" Reaper surveyed his casino, scythe in bony hand. His casino, finally, with a bar that didn't have that annoying little Crass fucker in it. The final slot machines were being installed. The red velvet curtain was being hung on the nightclub's stage. The bartop was being polished painstakingly. And an enormous black spider skittered drunkenly across the shining marble surface. Reg crushed the bug distractedly with a skeletal thumb. Everything was going perfectly. He plucked the spider's soul from the gooey splotch and chewed it thoughtfully. In a week, his fondest dream, his own place of iniquity, would be realized. It felt heavenly to him. He was especially looking forward to the night before the opening, with the party scheduled where he would finally meet his financial backers. He had never met them; they had found him, somehow. He would never forget that glorious day, so long as he 'lived'. He was lying in a dank and slimy gutter, yellow rain washing over him. He was choking down the last of the bottle of Scope he'd killed a man for, and trying to protect his bag of partially dried glue. Since the bar in Hell, Hades Cafe, had closed, nothing was ever the same. He couldn't hold a steady job and he was too proud to take welfare. Then, near the end, as he tried to dematerialize and pour down the drain like last week's coffee, the messenger had come. The messenger had taken him to the Hilton, put him in the Presidential Suite, and poured rye whiskey down his 'throat'. Then he had begun to explain: he was a tracer for Apocalypse Incorporated, sent to find Reg for a marvellous enterprise. They had been pressuring Premier Bob Rae to allow casinos in Ontario, and it had finally paid off. AI wanted Reg to be the interface with the government and to manage the casino complex. Reg had been overjoyed, and had questioned the messenger thoroughly. The only new piece of information concerned the location: 21 Stardust Boulevard. Try as he might, he could not extract any names. "I must know their names!" he had shrieked, clutching the boy's throat angrily. His eye sockets had flared and tiny fireflies had flitted out of them, to dance in the messenger's own. "I... I don't knaaaaaaoooow," the man had wailed, his body crumpling around him like old crepe paper. Reg had dropped the unconscious body on the floor and doused it in whiskey. "Blah," Reg had said, sitting down to re-read Page 3 of the Sun. But now the casino of his dreams was nearly completed, and he would meet his backers in only a few days. He clicked the bones of his heels together in glee, inadvertently squashing a spider that had crawled into his right foot. "Seem to be a lot of spiders around here," Reg muttered. Finally, the day before opening day came. Reg had slowly been becoming more excited and happy, until he almost resembled a human being. He had buffed himself until gleaming, and had his cloak dry cleaned repeatedly. He still stank of Death, which he was, after all, but at least he looked a little more cheerful. He preened in the mirror for an hour before going to the party, although he couldn't actually see himself. Usually he had Murray, Chauffeur and Butler of Death, dress him, but tonight he wanted to be alone. "I think I'm balding," he suddenly realized in horror, and tried feverishly to adjust the bathmat over his skull for he remembered, "I must be nervous, I've been bald for over an aeon." His spinal bones clicked fearfully together. "Stop that!" he screamed, shaking his finger at the reflection of his cape in the mirror. "I am DEATH! I can TAKE these people with one hand behind my back!" --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: ..the fuse in kerosine, I too become a dissident. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 [4] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Lady Stardust-Sonata Rec'd To: Hugh Jardon Msg #5, 13-Jul-92 02:05am Subject: hang on Lord He felt a little better after that as he went down from his room to the limosine. "21 Stardust Boulevard," he instructed, his usually firm voice almost quiverring. "Quickly, I must be there for midnight." He approved greatly of his backers for organizing the party for midnight. Murray was very small and glowed red hot, so cars sometimes weren't equal to him. The car they presently drove had been fashioned from a lump of brimstone from the pit of Hell, so it stood up to most things pretty well, even the contortions Murray (who was only 1'11") had to undergo to both see outside of the car and drive. It unfortunately was somewhat more pollutive than most. The limo pulled up into a sea of other such, and Reg felt a little put out that the spotlight was not to be his alone. He had been warned that a 'few notables' would be invited, but he could see at least thirty other cars. Sigh. The bellboy opened the car door and a puff of smoke roiled gruesomely out. Reg eagerly strode down the red carpet, under the fringed overhang, and lovingly tossed aside the doorman to open it himself. Then he stood for over a minute, marvelling at the first sight of his casino/hotel/brothel totally finished and filled to teeming with glamorous people. "They were soo right to invite Trudeau instead of Brian Mulroney," Reg sighed beatifically. Reg stared, beaming and blissfully happy. He had never known in all his millenia such a moment of absolute serenity. If Satan himself had come up from Hell, smelling like old cigars and cheap perfume, Reg would have kissed him with deep passion. He floated cheerily around, brushing shoulders with the high rollers and the slot machine players without prejudice. He absently flicked a spider off of his breastbone. That same spider was destined to be found later by Trudeau, crushed in the lactating bosom of his new woman-thing. "But, where are they? My backers?" he asked himself, barely able to keep himself together. He hurried through the casino, looking wildly for someone he didn't recognize from Frank magazine. He ducked into the nightclub; still no one he didn't recognize. As he prepared to search every room in the hotel with a magnifying glass, the bartender, Brandy Nipples, tapped him on the shoulder. "They just called. They said for you to meet them on the roof of the hotel in fifteen minutes. They had left this with me earlier and said I should give it to you now." She held out a eight foot long black velvet box. Trembling, Reg took it from her. His fingers clacked like castanets as he unlatched the clasp and gently pried up the top. Mounted in velvet, there was an enormous scarred blue plastic dart. The kind found in scruffy pubs in England that they claim can still be thrown straight, but wobble so much as to be a health hazard to anyone within fifty feet. This one was six feet long with a two and a half foot long point. It was surely illegal. Reg was confused, and this cast a sneaking pall over his previous happiness. Something about this dart looked horribly familiar... He snapped the box shut and thrust the entire thing into a pocket of his cape. "Th-thank you." He swirled around his cape and ran to the nearest elevator. He paced frantically as it climbed smoothly and noiselessly to the 110th floor, and ran up the last flight of stairs. He realized as he reached the door to the roof that he'd forgotten his keys, and, panicking, he picked the lock with a bone from his wrist. It clicked and the door slowly grated open. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: ..the fuse in kerosine, I too become a dissident. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 [5] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Lady Stardust-Sonata Rec'd To: Crass Nirvana Msg #6, 13-Jul-92 02:06am Subject: we're gonna fight for you Reg burst through the door like a shot, onto the middle of the roof. His head swivelled 360 degrees and he sighed with abrupt disappointment. They weren't really here. They were only toying with him. Unless, that is, they were on the other side of the roof. Feminine laughter trickled around the roof's entrance, from the other side. It pooled around his feet and tried to grab his ankles. He shook it off and impatiently strode to the other side. When he saw them, if it were possible for him to die, he would have. "You," he cried in a voice of utter loathing, terror and sadness. "Oh, why me?" He collapsed in a clinking heap of bones as the four people, three he knew and one he didn't, giggled evilly into their champagne glasses. One of the four sat up and brushed off his transparent green shorts. He looked around reflexively to see if there were any available women. "There a broom anywhere?" he asked, grinning. "Yeah, Crass," responded another one, dressed in a black suit with neon green stripes. He was emptying rubber bowls of rice pudding over the edge of the building at random intervals. "Just over there." Crass Nirvana picked up the broom and began sweeping the inanimate heap of bones towards the edge of the roof. "Won't that kill him?" asked a third man, with enormous extra space in the front of his pants. "Nah, Hugh, he's already dead," said the only woman. This woman was a babe. An Edgar Wallace babe. Like, the kind of babe that men had broken hearts, marriages, credit cards and serious celibacy over. She was evil, and she was brilliant. "I guess you haven't met Reg before. He's the Grim Reaper, didn't you recognize the scythe?" "I'm not too hot on farm implements, LSd," Hugh Jardon said. "Flog," he asked the man in the suit, "you didn't tell me that we had Death as our representative." "Uh, it makes relations with the government way easier," Flog Sonata mumbled, adding some glue to the rice pudding. "Hey, Crass, you missed one. The fribulous, over by the door." "That's tibia," Lady Stardust remonstrated. "T-I-B-I-A." "You disgust me," said Hugh. "And you never had to go to class, either, did you?" "No," she said, smiling sweetly. "But I dated the lab skeleton." Crass threw the scythe over the edge for good measure. It fell straight down, 111 stories, amputating curtains and waving hands, slicing a spider in two and severing a penis that was somewhere it shouldn't be. It finally struck somewhere near the door of the casino, cleanly removing the toupee of the channel six news broadcaster. Have you ever seen him? His toupee is about four inches high, sitting up on his skull like the ass of a rodent that's eating his brain. Check out the evening news and then you'll know. It was for this very attribute that Flog and Lady Stardust had invited him. Downstairs, in the crowded nightclub, Thomas Dolby was playing an exclusive North American engagement. 'look into your heart is anybody home? please remember... the Earth can be any shape you want it.' --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: ..the fuse in kerosine, I too become a dissident. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 [6] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Hugh Jardon To: Richard Visage Msg #7, 13-Jul-92 02:09am Subject: put away your swords Hugh glanced at his watch, and jumped with a start as the hands on it poked an eye. "It's probably time that we went down to see how badly those contractors fucked up the building, and met some suitably pretentious people." He tossed back the last of the champagne. "Oh, but I still haven't managed to pudding Bob Rae yet," cried Flog, peering over the edge. "He has to come out into the scrum at some point, and it's long overdue that he gets televised nationally with shit on his face." "Now, now", crooned LSd, "give him SOME credit for legalizing casinos and allowing *us* to open the first one in Canada." Crass remained silent, examining some bone fragments which had splintered during the sweeping up of Reg. "It's definitely time", said Hugh. "People have been waiting for us for a long time, I'm sure... we can't possibly disappoint them", he jeered. "Just keep some rice pudding in your pocket, Flog, and you can *personally* smear it on good ol' Bob." Flog pouted. "Oh all right..." LSd took his arm, as Crass and Hugh opened the roof doors. They started moving towards the elevator shafts. "No, no", said Hugh. "I specified our private car to be over here, accessible only from our private penthouse suite. Wait until you see what a grand entrance it will make!" * * * * * * * Meanwhile, downstairs, Reg had somehow put himself together, but he was still shaking. He dusted off the cap of his skull, and replaced it ever so elegantly. The feelings he felt could not be described by even the most satanic, and this bothered him to no end. To try and regain some control he snuffed a couple of the poseurs who had walked in. Still not happy, he went back into the casino, and ordered a drink. "Please, a quintuple martini, and a tree of olives", he groaned. People inside were spending their money more loosely than anybody could have predicted. Every table was doing well, and the patrons were all enjoying themselves heavily. Suddenly, the lights dimmed on all of the tables on all four tiers of the casino, and the lights in the centre of the 100 foot ceiling brightened. Thomas Dolby stopped in mid-sentence of his song; "Ladies and gentlemen", he announced, "please give a warm welcome to the owners of this establishment, and your hosts... the Apocalypse Corporation." Loud cheers came from the crowd as the circular ceiling opened up, and a gold-embossed elevator started to descend. As it descended, the lights on the walls lit up in concert, and the virtual reality lights played off of the four financial backers inside the cylindrical elevator. The elevator finally came to a stop in the centre of the ground floor's stage, squishing a particularly large spider who's legs flew into Bob Rae's virgin Caesar. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: ..the fuse in kerosine, I too become a dissident. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 From: Hugh Jardon To: Flog'S Bottom Msg #8, 13-Jul-92 02:10am Subject: don't you know that it's all over The four people from AI stepped gracefully out of the elevator which descended by electromagnetic tracks. LSd stepped out first, and quickly took the microphone from Dolby - "That's Apocalypse INCORPORATED, ." Flog followed, then Hugh and Crass. Hugh glanced around and saw Reg with his pint-o-martini, and raised a glass, winking. Reg disintegrated yet again. "Wow, I really like how you designed this," Flog said to Hugh. "It's so industrial, yet classic." "Yeah, but all I see are the flaws", groaned Hugh. "I think we should send Reg to talk to those contractors again, only this time make sure they never have the chance to fax us again." The general crowd started to flock around the investors, making small talk and other annoying gestures of friendship. "Gawd!" screamed Crass, "why did people like THIS have to show up?" "Don't complain", whispered LSd, "these are all the big spenders. These are the people we need to coerce into coming here to keep the place alive. Besides, plastic people are always so fun to mock." Hugh kept looking around, anticipating somebody's presence. "Who are you looking for, Hugh?", asked LSd, not particularly concerned. "Oh, nobody, really", Hugh replied. "Just scoping out the women... where are all our hirelings?" "Hopefully VERY busy", LSd beamed. "At last count, over 90% of the 3000 rooms were booked." "Very good... very good." Hugh continued looking around, brushing aside several well-endowed blonde females. He lit another cigar - Davidoff No. 1 - and threw the smouldering match to the marble floor, scorching two legs of another spider who limped away. He puffed semi- contentedly, but his eyes never stopped scanning. Brandy was busy at the bar, pouring slurries of all types. She seemed very happy to be allowed to simply sit at the bar, making drinks, and letting other patrons buy her drinks. "She's definitely got the best job here", thought Hugh. "Shall we act like patrons to some extent and try our *luck* at the tables people?" asked Hugh. "I don't believe in gambling away my money", retorted Flog. "You do now", said LSd, offering him a Truscan column of $1000 chips. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: ..the fuse in kerosine, I too become a dissident. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 [8] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. From: Flog Sonata To: Hugh'S Bottom Msg #9, 13-Jul-92 02:11am Subject: it was nice, but now it's gone "I'm gonna go shoot some crap," Flog said, pulling a large gun out of no where. "I don't want to see this," Hugh muttered, putting as much distance between Flog and himself as possible. "Shooting crap is dice, darling," Lady Stardust said softly. Flog looked confused. "Why would anybody want to shoot dice? They're such small targets!" LSd groaned, and went away. Crass looked at Flog's big nasty gun. "Where'd you get that?" "Illegal mail order from Mexico. Completely untraceable." "Wow, what is it? A colt 45? A semi auto rambling J33?" "Nope. It's just a GUN. That's what the company that makes them call it. GUN. Pretty deep, huh?" Crass was noticeably impressed. Flog left Crass and went over to a gambling table. He slammed down his huge GUN on the green felt and said: "I wanna shoot some crap!" The attendant in a red tux raised an eye-brow. "Very droll sir, ha ha." "Look bub," Flog screeched, "I wanna shoot some crap, and I'm going to do it. I'm one of the owners, I could get you fired." That green pinstripe suit, the idiocy of the whole affair. Slowly the attendant began to realize that he was dealing with a complete and utter psychopath. Yes, he was dealing with one of the owners, and this owner was none other than the master of masturbatory messages, the funk-master of fetus fondling, the illustrious FLOG SONATA. The attendant swallowed once. He dared to go on, to even question Flog's silly idea. "But sir, really sir, shooting crap... WHY?" "Look, let me deal with the morals of it, and get me some crap to shoot." "But what am I supposed to do with it when I get it?" the attendant wailed. "You get the crap, you throw it, I shoot at it. If I hit it, I win, if I miss it, you win." The attendant looked pained. He wanted to keep his job, but... His nerve broke. "One moment sir," he said to Flog, and ran off to the bathroom. Flog waited patiently. In the distance he heard a voice yell, "No! Don't Flush!" Flog looked about the room. The VIPs were mingling about. Quite a few celebrities had made their way to this, the exclusive private opening night. Tomorrow, the real customers would be let in. The ones who could write messages. Off in one corner was Al Pacino, fondling his ego with both hands. Woody Allen, having drunk too much de-alcoholized beer, was hitting on a rubber tree. Christian Slater was leaning against a wall, trying to look like a rebel's rebel, but managing only to look like the shadow of Jack Nicholson. Several hundred blond women were wandering about, hoping to be discovered, aching for the lead in the next Batman movie, but succeeding only in getting their bums pinched. And wasn't that Michael Keaton about to sit on a large hairy spider? Yes, all the stars were here. Flog shuddered at the thought of all the dry cleaning bills that would result from this party, let alone that spider. The attendant returned, looking disgusted. "Your CRAP, sir," he moaned. "Great," Flog said, picking his enormous GUN off the table, "now throw it!" The attendant lobbed the poo into the air with much relief, not looking where he had tossed the brown missile. Flog followed the arc of the shit with his aim. The crap landed with a splat on Premier Bob Rae's head. Then Flog fired, blowing Bob's brains all over a nice white dress of a blonde who'd been ogling the enormous GUN Flog was holding. She squealed with disgust, and probably wouldn't think of Flog in a sexual way ever again, even if he was holding a really big phallus symbol in his hands. "Oh great," Flog growled at the attendant, "now look what you made me do." "But, I... Er... Uh..." "Reg!" Flog yelled, "Reg! I think I killed Bob Rae." Reg, also known as Death, walked over. "Of course you killed him you idiot, you blew his fucking brains out." "Oh, well, could you... Fix him?" "Oh, of course, it's not like I'm the manager, you bastard. I'll see they file your soul in hell for this." "Thanks reg," Flog said, quickly throwing money at the attendant and dashing away. "A thousand bucks!" the attendant screamed with pleasure, "I'll throw excrement any time for YOU, Mr Sonata!" --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: ..the fuse in kerosine, I too become a dissident. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 [9] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Flog Sonata Rec'd To: Crass Nirvana Msg #10, 13-Jul-92 02:12am Subject: why are you obsessed with fighting? Reg fixed up Premier Bob. Except for a blob of kaka on his head, Bob was as good as new, albeit slightly smellier. A debate ensued in the nearby patrons of the bar who had witnessed the whole thing, as to whether KAKA was spelt with Ks or Cs. Flog started to sulk. He drank some Elquila and wandered about the casino, hobnobbing with the upper crust, whom he despised. "I've always been a big fan of yours Mr Nicholson, you fucking asshole! Why the hell did you sing and dance as the Joker in Batman? I hated that bit! God!" Jack slowly backed away from Flog, sensing an individual addicted to speed. Flog pushed his way through the crowd, and started looking for Lady Stardust. Eventually he found her, in the back of the casino, playing pool with Reg. "I thought we agreed we'd have no goddamn Pool Tables?" Reg stopped looking down LSd's cleavage as she made a shot. "I just wanted to play pool with Death," she said innocently. "You probably shouldn't shoot the customers," Reg whispered to Flog, "This may be a hip crowd, but no one wants to die." Flog ignored Death. "Look, LSd, I gotta go find myself." "What, now?" "Yeah." Flog and LSd left the casino, and hopped on to their trusty mountain bikes. A huge neon sign flashed outside the casino. Ugly red neon clashed with green bulbs that flashed spasmodically. The sign read "DEATH'S PLACE". "You'd think an immortal would have more of an imagination," Flog muttered. "And better taste," LSd said, sneering at the green lightbulbs. "Remind me to change that sign later," Flog mumbled. They peddled off into the night. It was about 1am. They were off to find Flog's self. They passed forests and fences as they biked out of the heart of the city and into the surrounding countryside. "You know that song," Flog said to LSd, "the one that goes: Spider, he is our hero Spider, must crush Spider, step on spider! Spider, we love you spider AW!!!" "Yeah, what about it?" LSd asked. "I like it," Flog said simply. "Me too," LSd answered. They stopped to make love under the moon in a corn field. Afterwards, Flog pondered aloud: "I wonder how many other couples are roaming the country side like this, stopping only to make love, but aren't actually mentioning it in their messages in a certain NES I could mention?" "Just stop," LSd said. Flog dropped the subject. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: ..the fuse in kerosine, I too become a dissident. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 [10] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Flog Sonata To: All Msg #11, 13-Jul-92 02:12am Subject: stick to fishing from now on. They got dressed and biked on. Soon they reached a cliff. It was off to one side of the road and looking down into it, they realized it was an old abandoned mine. It was now just a huge hole in the ground, an empty, used pit, marring the landscape. "You know that scene in Thelma and Louise where..." Flog began. "I hate tha movie," LSd snapped, "It's very manipulative." "Yeah, but I liked it anyway," Flog said, "Even though the film portrays all the men as evil, and the women as completely different and the only rational beings on earth. But you know that scene where the two of them go off the cliff?" "Yeah?" "Well, they were being attacked by everyone, supposedly, so they kill themselves. I mean, you don't see it. Symbolically they've gone on to a better place, but they're still DEAD. They drove off a cliff. They just don't show the burning wreck." "So, what's your point?" LSd asked. "Well, I'm not sure, but whatever it is, it's definitely not intended for two people I can think of who enter a certain type of messages in a certain NES that I could name but won't..." "Just stop," LSd said. Flog dropped the subject. They got back on their bikes and headed back. When they finally reached the casino, it was 7am. Most of the people were drunkenly stumbling out to their limos. Hugh met Flog and LSd at the door. "Hey, where've you two been?" "We went to find myself," Flog said. "Oh yeah, and how'd it go?" "Well," Flog mumbled, "as far as I figure it, where ever you go, there you are." "Deep," snorted hugh. "So what did we miss?" LSd asked. "Oh man!" Hugh Jardon gasped, "There was this... Well, like a... And... And it... Well..." Just then, Robert DeNiro ran out of the bathroom, completely naked, pointing at his genitals screaming "THEY'RE BLUE! THEY'RE BLUE!" He ran past them and out the door. "Like that," Hugh said. Crass was lying under the table. He'd drank an entire bottle of raspberry wine cooler, and it had gone straight to his head, nearly killing him. Definitely crippling him at least. Honest. Personally, I think it was the lemon slice that downed him. "We're off to a roaring start," Flog said. That very day, the doors were being opened to the public. Flog stood back and wondered. Who would be ther first to come through those doors? The casino lay in wait. Everything gleamed. Reg, the grim reaper, looked proudly about. Flog and Lady Stardust held hands and sighed. Hugh Jardon tapped the walls, testing their architectiural strength. Crass vomitted all over himself. They felt free. Well, maybe not free. But, spiritually liberated, which sounds even worse. More like, um, they've escaped from an unmentionable tyranny and let's just leave it at that. Ok? Sheesh. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: ..the fuse in kerosine, I too become a dissident. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 *** There's a reply!. See #12. [11] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Cadomark To: Flog Sonata Msg #12, 13-Jul-92 02:52am Subject: Entrances and exits are usually made in the same door. The sun shining in through the window woke Cadomark from a particularily blissful slumber. Sleep was a scarce commodity these days for him, and he was convinced that the only workable solution was to have the neighbours drawn and quartered. He shrugged away his malice. He looked in the morning papper for new jobs in the classifieds, and after scrawling down several locations, he picked up some copies of his CV and headed off into the great political industry known as Ottawa on his trusty metallic steed. It was a rather usual day for the drivers. They'd scored a large number of near-hits, but it still looked good for Cadomark. A fairly safe and uneventful ride. Nothing out of the norm. Zooming down a rather steep incline at a velocity fast enough to pass cars, he noted some very recent construction off to his left. There was an impossibly huge building nearby, and what appeared to be the detritus of an immense party. Intrigued, he leaned his bike over at an absurd angle and heeled over onto, in the brief moment he was able to read the sign, what appeared to be Stardust Blvd. It was an impressively built edifice, with large numbers of people streaming in, out and just about. He weaved through them, and just as he was almost in front of the building, he got creamed by some stupid-assed tourist in a car. Ten seconds and a thirty metre skid up the road on his back later, he saw The driver who hit him drive on. The person who was responsible had been looking at the building, and wasn't even aware that he'd just broad-sided someone. "Damn tourists," Cadomark cursed to himself, picking up the hopelessly twisted remains of what was once a racing bike. It was now a study in modern art. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a "Help Wanted" sign. He tossed the remains of his steed onto his shoulder, peeled the sign off the window, and walked in. The air-conditioning was immense, and the temperature difference hit him like a brick wall. He staggered for a moment, threading his way to the bar, where it would seem at least one employee would be. There was, in fact, a woman behind the bar. He tossed the ruins of his bike to the floor with a clatter, flipped the "Help Wanted" card onto the bar near the woman, and paused to axe-kick a spider out of mid-air that was descending from the ceiling. "You've got a problem with spiders here, don't you?" he muttered through clenched teeth, realizing all too late that one does not perform high kicks when one is bleeding profusely due to road-burn. He gestured at the card he flipped onto the bar. "Uhh, about the job there, well, what about it?" --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: No, I don't know the scene in Thelma and Louise. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 *** Neverending msg thread. [12] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Hugh Jardon Rec'd To: Cadomark Msg #13, 13-Jul-92 04:34am Subject: Re: You really want to work HERE? Brandy Nipples squirmed for a second, making Cadomark nearly cream his spandex pants. "Well, we had only temporary staff last night, and we're looking for people to man the 28 bars, 150 gambling tables, and of course the 290 janitorial positions. If you want, though, I'll recomend you for one of the brothel positions... girls might want to hire you." Cadomark winced at the idea of being an escort. He also winced at the fact that a spider was crawling down the raw skin of his back, and this one had particularly sharp feet. "Who do I see?" "Just go down this hallway here", she said pointing, "and look for the platinum plated door. You can't miss it, trust me." she said, and winked to make Cadomark actually cream his pants. He walked down a sparsely decorated hallway, ornamented with brushed steel, and free-formed concrete. He passed doors which cost more than his life, and finally came to a platinum door with "Apocalypse Inc." printed with diamonds. There was a doorbell, so he rang it. A very loud bell went, playing the tune of "May the Cube Be With You". Cadomark waited patiently, trying to dry the cum stain on his spandex. The door finally opened, very slowly, and a skeletal figure addressed him. "What can I do for you?" asked Reg. " Um, well, um, I'm here looking for work." "Hold on just a minute", Reg said, putting away his scythe, and splitting a spider into two perfect halves in the process. The door closed, and Cadomark waited again. He looked down at his shorts and cursed Brandy for being so friendly. The door opened, "Come this way, sir." Reg lead Cadomark through a maze of sculptures and paintings which ornamented the main office. He recognized a few cubist paintings, and the computers which had been melted into sculpture. After a minute of walking, Reg opened another platinum door, and let Cadomark into a very large, granite and marble faced room. Cadomark checked to see that he was not standing on a plastic sheet. "So, you want a job here, huh", said a voice from a chair who's back was turned. "Um... er... yeah. What kind of jobs are still open?" "Oh, we have numerous positions to fill", said the voice, blowing blue cigar smoke rings. "What are you looking for in particular?" "Well, I don't know. I'm hard up for a job, and will take anything right now. I'd rather not be one of your janitors, though." "What's your name?", asked the voice. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: No, I don't know the scene in Thelma and Louise. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 *** Witty reply to msg #12. [13] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here From: Hugh Jardon Rec'd To: Cadomark Msg #14, 13-Jul-92 04:47am Subject: Re: It's gonna be hell for you, we promise "Er... Caomark, sir." He swallowed hard, feeling rather nervous about the collection of firearms which sat next to the desk. "Oh, Cadomark... I was wondering if you'd come for a job", said the voice. "We expected you'd show up." Cadomark shitted bricks, making a rather rude looking lump in the spandex. "How do you know who I am? Who are you?" The chair turned to face forwards quickly, sending a spider flying off of the back, and into a halogen wall light which quickly fried it. "It's me, Cado. You didn't know what you were getting into when you came here for a job, did you?" Hugh smiled an evil smile he borrowed from LSd. "Maybe we should have you bus for a while huh?" "Hugh! What're you doing here?" "Hey, this is owned by Apocalypse Inc. That's me, Flog, LSd, and Crass. You shoulda been here last night, man. It was a great party." Hugh sucked on his cigar again for a moment. LSd and Flog entered, making rude slurping sounds. "Cadomark!" shouted Flog. "What're you doing here? Looking for yet another job, are you?" "Well, yeah." "Maybe I can get you to permanently be the guy I shoot crap with." "Oh don't be so mean", protested LSd. "Let the low-life table staff deal with that." "I was thinking of hiring him to work a BlackJack table." said Hugh. "No", said LSd, "There's probably something more suited for him. Maybe, making him the guy who walks around selling cigarettes." "That sounds good," said Hugh, manhandling a girl who had been hidden up until that point. He kissed her on the ear, and handed her a green drink. "Or maybe have him work in the male strip club?" "I don't know", said Flog. "That's too good for him. I still like the idea of making him my crap man", he said, fondling his gun and LSd at the same time with one hand. Crass walked in. "What do you think?" Hugh asked Crass. "We've got to hire this guy for the casino/hotel. What position would be suitable?" --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: No, I don't know the scene in Thelma and Louise. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 *** Witty reply to msg #12. [14] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Richard Visage Rec'd To: Lady Stardust-Sonata Msg #15, 13-Jul-92 09:50am Subject: How big a buzz was that? "Well, it was *your* idea." huffed LSD. "No it wasn't," grumped Flog. "YOU said putting Visage on the board of directors would somehow make the financiers more comfortable." "But it was YOUR idea to let him have free drinks." "I thought *you* said he would add something to the place, so far all we've got are bills from all over the world." Flog waved a sheaf of unpleasant looking correspondence. A loud shriek, followed by a clatter of breaking glass broke through the noise of the animated chatter. "Look!" pointed LSD, "He's stuck his tongue down the cleavage of another waitress!" "Gawd!" whined Flog, thwapping his hand on his forehead, "and he keeps ordering 'Savage Indiscretions' by the trayful." "Doubles" noted LSD. "Uhm, do you think someone should tell him that you don't wear a cummerbund as an eyepatch?" queried Cadomark. "Hey, I thought he was supposed to be a sophisticate, y'know, used to all this black-tie hoity-toity stuff." muttered Hugh. "Oh he is," bubbled the GusherBabe, "he's like this at all of them. Say, are those Bob Rae's shoe's he's whizzing on?" *Loud angry shouting fills the casino* "Yup," said Flog. "Neat. We'll get all those political favours we need now, fershure. I thought Visage had connections." "Great ones," smirked the GusherBabe, "with a few Bike Gangs, the Tong, several catburglers, and every bartender known to humankind." "Oh, perfect." wailed LSD. Visage snarfed another glassful of Savage Indiscretion and staggered through the VIP room. It was not long before he encountered Miss "Snap-on-Tools" for 1992. His eyes, or rather the one eye not covered by a cummerbund, attempted to focus on the cause(s) of Ms. Tools fame. The horrid gyrations that followed in Visage's mind, confused by the casino environment, booze, and far too many synthetically constructed VIP babes, mixed flesh, fantasy and speculation. Visage placed a loonie in Ms. Tool's mouth, and pulled down on her arm as if she was a one-armed bandit. Weaving, Visage looked squarely at Ms. Tools ample supply of dimorphisms and yowled, "double grapefruits, I *win*!" The sirens were audible shortly thereafter. --- * Origin: Grace and Danger (613) 836-4789 Ottawa, Canada (1:163/150) SEEN-BY: 163/135 150 166 207 222 227 266 277 290 305 400 401 405 410 518 SEEN-BY: 243/5 9 *** There's a reply!. See #16. [15] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Lady Stardust-Sonata To: Richard Visage Msg #16, 13-Jul-92 11:23pm Subject: It was a buzz *so* big, vibrators joined in sympathy "Fuck, it's the cops," Flog sighed. "I guess asking you to snuff 'em all would be too much?" Reg rolled the fire in his eyes. "After loosing half of my ankle bones, you ask me for favours? Bite weenie." "Wait, quick, I have an idea!" LSd gathered the contents of the office around her and explained her plan. They broke up and ran out into the casino, accosting the civil servant hordes that were, zombie-like, putting "just one more chip" into the slot machines. They whispered and pointed to Visage, who was now sitting in the punch bowl, saying "see, look, cold doesn't affect it!" A small army of civil servants slowly formed around him. The police arrived. They knocked gently on the door and tiptoed in, intimidated by the knowledge that they could be impinging on some serious political types. "Uh, we're looking for Richard Visage?" the chief whispered to Brandy, squirming uncomfortably in his pants. "He's over *there*," said Brandy, bending and pointing. Sweat rained down off the man's face, drowning a spider that had been climbing his epaulette. "Th-th-thanks," he mumbled, staggering over to where she had pointed. "But..!" he cried, and spun around. The bartender was gone. There were easily a hundred men milling around where she had pointed. and they all looked the same. They were all wearing dark gray three- piece suits and trenchcoats. They were all tastefully graying. They were all showing signs of discomfort at the thought of the cops investigating the contents of the notebook computers they all carried. "Fuck," said the cop. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: No, I don't know the scene in Thelma and Louise. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 *** Witty reply to msg #15. From: Lady Stardust-Sonata To: Fick L. Finger Msg #17, 13-Jul-92 11:35pm Subject: fancy meeting you here... "We gotta do something to calm Visage down," cried Hugh. "I mean, resurrecting Bob Rae is one thing, but demanding to dance *cheek* to *cheek* with Ellen Barkin is another." LSd had gone to try to talk down Visage. "Richard, please, come out of the punch bowl." "But look!" he said. "I was tryna tell Ms Tools that cold usually makes things *firmer*, and I'm right!" LSd looked for a second, before Flog covered her eyes. "For chrissake, you'll uh, catch cold or something, and get horribly sick, and want to listen to the Mamas and Papas or something. Or read Jackie Collins novels. You'll cough up serious stuff, it'll be all black and gooey. Say, if you do, could you save me some?" "*Black and gooey?*" "Yeah, yeah!" Flog seized his advantage. "It really turns babes off." Visage hurriedly got out of the punch bowl. "Uh, come with us, RV," said LSd. "Uh, there's something really interesting in my office, really. Really interesting. I'm sure you'll be transfixed by it." "Really?" RV's eyes brightened. "Is it like a Power Tools calendar?" "Better," promised Flog. They hurried the sodden Senator through a maze of hallways and into the office, Cadomark, Hugh and the GusherBabe right behind. As soon as she got in, LSd began feverishly to try to find something to amuse Visage. "Hey, what's this button marked "jello mode" do?" Hugh wrestled with RV to regain control of the security system. Flog frantically switched on the TV that was installed in the wall, and began flipping through the channels desperately ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Lady Stardust-Sonata To: Savage Indiscretion Msg #18, 13-Jul-92 11:50pm Subject: shattered plinths "Wait!" cried Visage. "It's Sesame Street!" He closed the drawer filled with vibrators, creams and a huge rubber fist that he had found, and sat placidly on the floor, transfixed. "A rock's not alive, no no no And a clock's not alive, no no no An icecream cone's not alive, no no no A telephone's not alive, no no no They don't eat or breathe or grow And that is how you know: they're not alive But a dog is alive, yeah yeah yeah And a frog is alive, yeah yeah yeah And a pony is alive, yeah yeah yeah " The screen went fuzzy for a second, and then returned as the song said "They all eat and breathe and grow, and that is how you know They are alive!" Visage took the remote and shut off the television. His expression was pensive and philosophical. "What's up?" asked Hugh. "I want to know," said Visage, in a deep voice, "this is a serious problem, and it must be addressed... what was the fourth thing that was alive?" "Macaroni," said LSd. "WHAT?" everyone else expelled. "Sure. It rhymes with 'pony', right?" "Uh..." said Hugh. "But so does 'spumoni'." "But... if you put macaroni in water, it eats the water, and it grows, and the whole thing bubbles. Really." "Sure. It rhymes with 'pony', right?" "Uh..." said Hugh. "But so does 'spumoni'." "But... if you put macaroni in water, it eats the water, and it grows, and the whole thing bubbles. Really." "Macaroni is alive, yeah yeah yeah!" sang Visage. "Yeah," said Flog gloomily. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: The best of questions knead no answers. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 *** There's a reply!. See #19. [18] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Cadomark Rec'd To: Lady Stardust-Sonata Msg #19, 14-Jul-92 01:03am Subject: Where's the wha? Cadomark took a moment off from the singing to judiciously adjust his shirt so that it covered his crotch. Looking downwards, he noted that he was standing in a small pool of blood. His own. "Uhh, excuse me?" he asked sheepishly. "What d'you want?!" Hugh snapped, somewhat irritated at being taken out of his reverie. "Y'got any first aid here? I'm not doing so well." Cadomark mumbled. "Can't you see we're busy?" someone else snarled, throwing a sharp item at Cadomark. He deftly avoided it. "Well, it's kinda simple, really. Get me something or I'll bleed all over your new floors." He snuck off before someone could think of a witty retort, dodging a large number of politicos, and visited Ms. Brandy again, who took some time off her bartending duties to apply some salve and some large bandages to his back. He blushed furiously, squirmed a lot and kept tugging the lower hem of his t-shirt downwards. Eventually, the first-aid treatment was complete, and he snuck back to the group. He apparently wasn't missed. They were deep in a discussion of various pastas, desperately trying to figure out which one was the most alive. "Rigatoni, damnit!" Flog screamed, waving his GUN about like the gigantic phallic symbol that it was. "Uhh, d'you people need a bodyguard or something?" Cadomark queried, desperately trying to sneak in a few words edgewise into the tempestuous debate. "Canneloni is better. It has rhythm to it," suggested Richard Visage, slurping back an unidentifiable drink that spewed forth some rather noxious fumes. Cadomark turned and backfisted a rather sizeable daddy longlegs off the wall without looking, then started searching about the place for a lighter and some combustible fluid. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: Building a house in a hurricane is hard. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 *** Neverending msg thread. [19] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Hugh Jardon Rec'd To: Cadomark Msg #20, 14-Jul-92 03:23am Subject: Re: Death's our rep... why a bodyguard? Flog, RV, LSd and Crass continued arguing. "Spaghettini!" "Fettucini!" "Lasagna!" "WHAT?!?!?" Hugh looked aside and noticed that Cadomark was trying to light the casino aflame. He ran over, brandishing a phone book and threw it straight into Cadomark's back. "OWWWWW!!! YOU FUCKING SHIT-EATING, CUM-SPEWING, HIV-CARRYING CUNTHEAD! WHAT THE FUCK'D YOU DO THAT FOR?!?!?!?" "Shut up, Cadomark, or I'll do it again", Hugh warned, this time holding a jar of iodine over his head. "Glass and iodine won't be too pleasant, trust me. So what makes you think you'd make a decent bodyguard, huh? You're small... scrawny... easily hurt... and besides, Flog's got a GUN. If all that fails, death's sitting around any time." "Well, I DO take martial arts", said Cadomark, wincing at the thought of a bottle being broken on his back. "And I'm a damed good shot with a pistol." "Why would we trust letting *you* have a pistol, might I ask?" "I dunno... maybe you guys are stupid?" Hugh looked at Cadomark, and Cadomark looked at Hugh. Hugh roundhoused Cadomark's back. Cadomark screamed. "Not that stupid, Cadomark. Don't worry, Reg can heal as well as kill, so we won't let you die. Of course, your job should be one that lets you loose around the hotel, right? Hmm... Flog hasn't given you a job yet?" Cadomark shook his head, or at least tried. He wished Hugh had just used incendiary bullets on his body... it probably would have hurt much less. "Well, let me think about it..." --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: Building a house in a hurricane is hard. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 From: Hugh Jardon To: Flog'S Bottom Msg #21, 14-Jul-92 03:40am Subject: We gotta find a job for Cadomark Hugh walked over to where the other members of AI were arguing, and pulled Flog aside. "Hey, we better find a job for Cadomark... face it, he's not going anywhere else for employment... who else would hire him?" "True, true. Of course, in his present condition, he would probably not be much use at manual labour." "Does he know anything about lighting and stuff? Or security?" "Dunno. Maybe he could do something dweeby and techie, like. That would make the most sense." Hugh walked over to Cadomark, who was still writhing on the floor. His expression was rather neutral - sort of like the Joker's smile. "Maybe you can help us after all", said Hugh, gently drowning a spider in Cadomark's blood with his toe. Hugh pulled out a small walkie talkie from his pocket, and mumbled something into it. Moments later, Reg appeared in the room. He was still shaking from the shock of the night before, and couldn't help but keep his distance from the investors. Hugh motioned Reg over, and whispered something in his ear. "Cadomark, go along with Reg. He'll show you to your new duties. Oh, and by the way Reg, can you do something about Cadomark's wounds? Maybe just heal him up a bit, so he can work more effectively?" Reg helped Cadomark up, who suddenly felt a lot better. He still had a bad back, but it didn't hurt as much. "We'll see you in a bit, Cadomark", said Hugh and waived them off. Meanwhile, by the desk, RV was still tossing back drinks faster than the stills could produce alcohol. They had agreed that the last thing alive in the song MUST have been canneloni. "Where's your *special* bartender, guys? The one who tastes like a drink?" "Named after a drink", Hugh corrected Visage. "She's out in the casino doing her job. So, like, Richard, what's the deal with these bills coming to us from Queen's Park?" --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: Building a house in a hurricane is hard. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 [21] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Flog Sonata To: Cadomark Msg #22, 14-Jul-92 11:51am Subject: Your JOB! A new CAREER! WOW! Flog led Cadomark to the bathroom. "Oh no," Cadomark wailed, "you're not going to take me in there and undo your fly and say 'Here is you job, Cad, get to it.' I'm not falling for that one." "Not at all," Flog said softly, "Just come on..." Once in the bathroom, Flog gave Cad a little suit to wear. "Now, when people come in here, you wipe their hands with this towel, and basically help them pee," Flog said. "This sucks," Cadomark whined. "Oh, come on, you haven't even started yet, it could be fun!" "No, this sucks, you're just trying to hide me in the bathroom." "Well, yes, but..." "I don't wanna work here!" Cadomark wailed. "Look, try it..." "No no no..." "Look, try it..." "No no no..." Flog closed the bathroom door and locked it with Cadomark inside. Crass walked up. "So does he like the job?" "Let me out!" Cadomark screamed. "Uh, I don't think so," Flog said. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: Building a house in a hurricane is hard. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 [22] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Dopeman Rec'd To: Hugh Jardon Msg #23, 14-Jul-92 02:00pm Subject: Just a thought... Suddenly Dopeman enters upon the scene. "Didn't anyone think it might have been balogna?" he says, then instantly wishes he hadn't. Everyone thinks about this new interpretation briefly, but discard it in favour of their other answer (which, although no-one can seem to remember it now, seemed like it fit much better). Dopeman shrugs sheepishly and murmers, "..never mind...just everyone carry on...". As he's heading for the door, however, someone pulls out a revolver and nails him in the back. As Dopeman slumps to the floor, everyone applauds the mysterious gunman, (who has mysteriously slipped out the back door) and then return to their original story line. --- Maximus 2.01wb * Origin: Bippity-Boo and Gading-Gadang's (1:163/277) SEEN-BY: 163/135 166 207 222 227 266 277 290 305 405 410 518 243/5 9 [23] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here From: Crass Nirvana To: Brandy leant across the bar and acc Msg #24, 14-Jul-92 11:11pm Subject: Rub some ice on it....it'll help... Flog and Lsd argued. Cadomark and Hugh argued. Reg and Brandy nipples argued then fell into a sleaz embrace while she rubbed icecubes on his bald skull. Crass sulked. Although it would be closer to the point to say that Crass sulked more. He quietly slid into a seat at the bar, casually eavesdropping on Flog and Lsd discussing the pros and cons of a bondage and no bondage section in the casino lounge. Hugh was trying desperately to point out the silver linings in the cloud of bathroom attending. Crass ordered a Flaming Zombie. ` "No, I think there are a lot of customers who would LOVE leather bracelets attached to the.......FLaming Zombie?! Did I hear someone order a Flaming Zombie!??" He took a quick look around as Brandy peeled herself from the floor and started agitating the ingredients for the drink. "Crass? YOU ordered a Flaming Zombie? How could you? Remember what happened last time you did this to yourself?" "No," Crass answered sulkily, "Isn't that the point?" Flog took a deep breath, knew that Crass was in one of those moods and sat down next to him, with Lsd not far behind. "What's the prob....MMMMFFFF!" Lsd started to ask before Flog stuffed his hand in her mouth. "DON'T! You don't EVER want to ask Crass what's wrong. Trust me." Flog whispered. "Oh, nothing...." Crass sighed. He sighed again. The customers of the casino started to really feel miserable for no reason that they could immediately place. Crass sighed again, moaning ever so slightly. Flog thought wildly, knowing he had to think of something quickly before the guests started writing suicide notes to themselves on the cocktail napkins. Flog clenched his fists and gathered his courage. Lsd wondered exactly what the problem was. Hugh and Cadomark were hugging each other and crying for no apparent reason. Reg looked sullen. Well, he looked pale and bony actually, but somehow, he could manage sullen in a pinch. Brandy leant across the bar and accidently flattened a spider with her ample protrudrances. "ok, Crass, are you going to tell me what's wrong or are you going to moan all of our customers to death?" "Well, if you really want to know....." "Of course I want to know..." Flog replied. "Well, you see, it's this place, it's just not the same....I miss the..." "Why are you allowed to ask him what's wrong, but I can't?" LSd demanded. "Misery Proof Vest." "Oh." "And you see, this place, I really like it, but sometime I miss the old days....the pain, the angst, the suffering, the dismemberments..." "oooh, dismemberments!" Lsd approved. "What's his problem?" Hugh asked quietly, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye with Cadomarks now bloody shirt. "He get's like this sometimes," Flog explained. "Last time, 324 people set themselves on fire. It was wonderful. But, then again, that was in Hell. That sort of thing goes on all the time. It's all that brimstone in the air." "Oh." "Ya know, the brawls, the wrecked furniture, the immortality, the human dart baords....I miss the human darts boards...." "How long does this sort of thing go on?" Cadomark asked, even though he should have been assisting people in bleeding their lizards. "I just saw someone trying to impale themselves on slot machine." "Where?!" Flog tried to find the person in question for totally unknown and probably very pure reasons. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: Building a house in a hurricane is hard. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 From: Crass Nirvana Rec'd To: Flog Sonata Msg #25, 14-Jul-92 11:21pm Subject: My brain feels like a jelly donut being lobbed off the CN Tower, Brandy casually slid the Flaming Zombie across the bar, making sur she was wearing the asbestos gloves and lead apron. A spider slid down it's sily thread as the drink passed below. It was instantly disintegrated by the fumes. Crass looked over at the drink and down at his belly, then at Reg. "Reg, would you mind, just this once, doing your old emplyer...No, your old FRIEND, just one favour?" Reg looked at Crass, then at the drink. He nodded sullenly. Crass slammed the drink back, Reg tapped his skeletal fingers on the bar. Flog had his fingers stuck in LSD's brassiere. Hugh, well Hugh was off in search of some form of entertainment that was elsewhere from Crass. The drink worked it's evil magic, devouring the flesh from Crass' throat all the way down to where it was now simmering out of his esophogus. "Mmmmmmmmmmm," he mmmmed as his lips foamed and smoked. Reg snapped his fingers, or rather GRATED his fingers together in a really annoying rasping sound. Crass' intestinal tract healed itself, the hole in his stomach sealed and his lips returned to their normal appearance. "Feel better?" Flog asked. "Much. You know, there WERE distinct advantage to owning a bar in Hell, eh?" "Sure was. I haven't played with my spleen in ages." LSd got off her stool. "You're both off your rockers! I love it!" ********* Two Days Later *********** "SHhhh! Waitsh! Wait 'til you shee thish one!" Flog placed a galvanized steel straw into his nose and inhaled the Flaming Zombie. Instantly the drink began to dissolve his nose. "Loook! Coool. I hazzhhh no node anymo!" Crass giggled as he poured another Zombie down his pants. "I think that may have been (hic) a mishtake (urrrppp)!" He laughed some more, falling from the stool. Hugh sat besides Lsd, having come back when the customers stopped the lining up at the gift shop for razor blades. Flog and Crass decided that they were more than overdue for a binge. Only problem was that Reg was getting a little tired of healing them after every round of drinks. "Remember when YOU were a zhom(hic)bie? Boy, were you ugly! And the shmell! (urrrpp)" "Well, at leasht I didn't go around (blatchh) on fucking quwests all the time!" "That washn't ME! That wazh that crazy russian!" "A Quest?!" A voice from the crowd called out. "Did I hear someone say Quest?" Flog pulled out his GUN. Crass wanted one too. He suffered from GUN envy. "Who shaid that!?" Flog yelled, firing a few rounds into the air to make a point. A sombre man, dressed entirely in blue stepped forward. "Now, no need to get violent, sir. The only reason I ask about a quest is that," he quickly flipped through a set of cue cards in his hands. "We need a quest!" Flog started convulsing and sweating. "...a Quest to make the people of Ontario aware of the problems inherent in any government system. We need to make the people of this province believe that it is not the fault of the NDP party that Ontario is so fucked up. Wait a second! I'm not allowed to say "FUCK"! Who the hell wrote this damn thing?!" "Pull!" Flog yelled. From out of nowhere, a large brown lump of steaming feces soared through the air. Two explosions rang through the casino as people milled about to see what would happen next. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: Building a house in a hurricane is hard. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 *** There's a reply!. See #26. [25] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here From: Hugh Jardon To: Crass Nirvana Msg #26, 15-Jul-92 05:14am Subject: Re: You mean we have to create a *plot* now? Of course, Flog missed the feces, which flew through the air, slid along one of the railings, and against a spider's nest of eggs, crushing every miniscule egg. Hugh darted a worried glance at Flog, who looked at Crass, who looked up LSd's skirt. Crass didn't find any answers there. The man dressed all in blue looked through more cue cards feverishly. "Somebody put these all out of order!" he shouted in the most annoying voice any of our friends had ever heard. "How are we going to go about fulfilling this quest if I don't know what order in which to do what action, and why?" The AI executive looked dumbfounded. "Could anybody please explain why we should prove that the NDP is NOT responsible for how fucked up Ontario is right now?", asked Hugh of the group. "Um, sir, is it possible that you are the wrong quest? Maybe you got the wrong address, or the wrong person", Flog offered. "Bob is here, but he's in his room with some young guy we employed... check the 40th floor." "No, no", said the quest in blue, "you are the people I am supposed to help. Don't worry, it will be done in a good, roundabout fashion dodging the issue at every opportunity. The government likes that policy." Richard slowly got up, still affected by the punch. "Sorry guys, for not telling you about this earlier. This is one of the favours we were asked to perform in order to get this baby (waving about the room) off the ground." "You DIDN'T!!!", said LSd. "Why didn't you ask us first? You may be the senator for us, but as investors, we have to know how low we have to stoop to get what we want!" Crass sighed again. The world sighed with him. The quest-guy sighed and attempted to slice his wrist open with a cue card. "Well, maybe we can do this by just showing people what a great place this is", said RV, doing his best not to start snivelling. Cadomark sat in a corner trying to drown in a Mason jar. "Uh, you the guy in blue... why don't you go to your suite for a while, until we straighten this mess up, okay?" place this is", said RV, doing his best not to start snivelling. Cadomark sat in a corner trying to drown in a Mason jar. "Uh, you the guy in blue... why don't you go to your suite for a while, until we straighten this mess up, okay?" The nondescript guy all in blue walked away, cuecards flittering behind him as he threw out the discards. Reg stood and watched as he entered the elevator to the 80th floor, scratching his head. Crass sighed yet again, and for no apparent reason, one of the patrons tried to crush himself by sandwching himself in the grand piano in the lounge. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: Building a house in a hurricane is hard. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 *** Neverending msg thread. [26] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Lady Stardust-Sonata Rec'd To: Hugh Jardon Msg #27, 15-Jul-92 11:52am Subject: nasty evil look "Wait a sec," said LSd in annoyance. "Where did that crap shooting machine come from? I specifically ordered it to be dismantled and shipped to Visage's friends in the Tong as a gesture of good faith." "Uh, I dunno," Flog blushed. "Uh, uhm, really. I don't have any idea." LSd looked suspiciously at him. "Uh huh," she said. "Like, it scares off the patrons, y'know. If you wanna talk about shit, vomit, fetuses and other such fun things, why don't you go over to your TV station?" "Buh," said Flog. "I suppose next you're gonna want me to clean up after myself." The patrons were treated for the rest of the day to the sight of Flog, in a saucy French Maid costume, delicately wiping away nasty things with a lace handkerchief the size of a saccharine tablet. This would probably create more work in the washing of said handkerchiefs than would have actually been generated if Cadomark (who was in charge of such things after all) had more work in the washing of said handkerchiefs than would have actually been generated if Cadomark (who was in charge of such things after all) had actually done it himself. "Ooh, Flog, what sexy legs you have," purred Hugh, bending down to bite Flog's round, firm bottom. "EEK!" screamed Flog, like a wounded water buffalo. He ignomiously wrenched up his skirt to reveal two perfect sets of teeth marks. "Buh," said Flog. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: Building a house in a hurricane is hard. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 *** Witty reply to msg #26. [27] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Flog Sonata To: All Msg #28, 15-Jul-92 01:32pm Subject: Stick it up my bum. "Crass, who the hell was that?" Flog asked, getting out of his french maid costume, (but keeping on the silk underwear, cuz they're comfy). "That was Rambler, Incoherent Rambler," Crass explained. "Well, if we have any more inside jokes this place will implode," Flog muttered, "We need something new, something fresh, something.... Je ne sais quoi." "Did you know," Crass said helpfully, "That je ne sais quoi means I DON'T KNOW?" "YES!" everyone in the casino yelled. "Oh, well, never mind then," Crass sniffed. "So much for a great philosophical debate getting things off the ground," LSd sighed. "No, wait, I have some philosophy!" Crass yelled, "Uh, if a tree falls on my head and the forest..." "What we need to do," interrupted Hugh, "is start something new." "Yeah," Cadomark said, his head sticking out of the bathroom door. "Now, the way to find out what's new," Hugh continued, "is consider all the things that have been done before this, in other NESes..." Everyone thought a bit. "Well..." Flog said. Richard Visage lifted his head out of the punch-bowl and growled. "I'm ashamed of you candy-assed wimps! Get stupid and have fun. Porposes are for oceans... Run around, drink alot, and do whatever!" It was decided that RV was right. He was much older and wiser than everyone else in the casino, and besides, he had a lot of credit cards, so you knew he was a good person. ****************** Flog sprinkled a white powder on a plate of nachos he was about to eat. Crass, seeing him do this, asked Flog "What the hell?" "MSG," Flog answered, "Chinese restaurants put it on everything, makes stuff taste better. So I figured I'd put it on some food and see what it tastes like. They sell MSG in bulk at Kardish's in the market." "But that stuff is dangerous," Crass warned. "Oh, and snorting flaming zombies is not?" "Well, that's different." --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: A minimum of good taste is to be encouraged. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 From: Flog Sonata To: Crass Nirvana Msg #29, 15-Jul-92 01:33pm Subject: Size Doesn't Matter Flog scarfed down the nachos. "Yum," Flog said. "Can I try?" Crass asked. "No, it's my MSG, screw off!" "But..." sniffed Crass. Flog poured a handful of MSG into his coffee, and then drank it. Then he ordered some more food, and dumped half the bag of MSG on to it, and ate that. An hour later, Flog was eating MSG straight from a paper bag. RV got out of the punchbowl. It had been fun, but it was time to get serious and find that Double Grapfruit woman. "I don't want to work in the bathroom!" Cadomark yelled to no one in particular. "Where did Rambler, that guy in blue, go?" Crass said, stepping into the elevator to go look. "Why aren't the answers found when you look up my skirt?" LSd asked herself thoughtfully. "Architecture," Hugh muttered into his 97th beer, "everything is architecture..." Dopeman's body lay in a heap in a corner. Flog snorted some MSG up his left nostril. "Wow man," Flog giggled, "What a neat hallucination! It looks like my hands have swelled up to fourteen times their normal size!" Hugh looked over and screamed: "Flog, you're NOT hallucinating!" "Neat!" Flog said, watching as his feet swelled and burst through his shoes. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: What do you take me for? Trade ya. (1:163/290.0) From: Cadomark Rec'd To: Flog Sonata Msg #30, 15-Jul-92 03:58pm Subject: It Does Matter a Bit Cadomark struggled and struggled, and eventually he found the locking mechanism to the shackles that they kept him in the bathroom with. "Can't keep a good man down," he chortled to himself, then suddenly winced at the cliche--a wince rather similar to the wince that one would perform when one suddenly realized that one just bit into a razor blade. He peeled off the foul, white sanitary suit, revealing his blood-soaked clothes. His *own* blood, too. He was proud. He found the members of AI clustered around Flog, who was floating towards the ceiling. His hands and feet had become buoyant. "Well, looks like you people are having fun," he called to them on his way out. "You can send my cheque to my address. I'm off to join the Nicaraguan rebels." He paused for a moment to shake Hugh's hand. "Uhh, thanks for the job, really," Cadomark said, and resisted the urge to exact vengeance. "Think I'll be off now." A messenger was waiting by the front door. "Uhh, Mr. Cadomark?" he queried, looking him over. "Yeah, that's me," was the response. "What do you want?" "Remember the guy who hit you a few days earlier? Well, it's a long story, and I'll save you the details, but suffice it to say that his government apologizes profusely for the accident, and they've sent you the access number to a Swiss bank account. That's all I know." The messenger handed a sealed package to Cadomark, made him sign on a few lines, and hurried out. As he stepped outside, the temperature of the non-airconditioned outdoors made him stagger, but he managed to carry on nontheless. Cadomark opened the package, and inside was a platinum credit card. Not platinum coloured; it was made outright from platinum. It was engraved with his name, and had an unlimited credit limit. Also inside the package was a legal document entitling him to a significant fortune in gold bullion. He was financially set for a million lifetimes. was financially set for a million lifetimes. "Fuck work," he said to nobody in particular, and wended his way back to the dining room, where Crass Nirvana was making little life-rafts for some spiders, forcing them to float in the punch bowl, then setting them alight with a can of lysol and a lighter. "I think I may be staying around a little while longer," Cadomark told Flog, who by now was stuck against the ceiling. "Got any rooms where I can mount my bike? It looks... well, I won't say the 'a' word." --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: What do you take me for? Trade ya. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 *** Witty reply to msg #29. [30] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Flog Sonata Rec'd To: Hugh Jardon Msg #31, 16-Jul-92 02:33am Subject: In space, no one can hear you fart. Flog grapsed on to the edge of a table and pulled himself back down, his huge MSG bloated hands scaring the hell out of him. "Now's my chance while he's struggling," Hugh said, grabbing LSd and biting her ear. "Ewwww!" screeched LSd in disgust. Flog looked over and saw Hugh doing this. Using his big floating hands, he zoomed over to Hugh and smashed him over the head with a full Equilla bottle. The bottle itself did little damage, but the Elquilla sizzled Hugh's flesh. "AARGH!" Hugh yelled and staggered about blindly. Reg stepped forward to heal Reg but Flog ordered him back. Hugh staggered blindly, flipped over a blackjack table and cracked his skull open. "Ow!" Hugh moaned. "Ok, Reg, you can heal him now," Flog said. Flog's hands shrunk back to normal and he landed with a thud on the floor. "Cadomark, I hear you're stinking rich now," Flog said. "Yup, tis true. I'm stinking rich." Cad said. "Well, put on some deoderant and come here, I have a plan to amass even more of a fortune...." Cadomark and Flog went over to a corner and whispered to each other. "Here's my plan... Illegaly importing GUNs into Canada," Flog said. "That's it?" Cadomark said. "Well, sure, it needs some working, but..." "Come on, that's all?" "Uhhh..." They plotted and planned. Meanwhile, Crass was in the elevator going up to see where Incoherent Rambler went. And the narrator was not prompting Crass into doing something. Honest. Hugh lifted his head up and banged it against the bottom of the blackjack table. "Ow, what did I do?" Hugh said sadly. "Architecture students," sneered Richard Visage, "Sex starved lunatics, the lot of em. I guess this is what happens when you don't get laid enough in university. Me, I had sex with everything." --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: What do you take me for? Trade ya. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 *** There's a reply!. See #34. [31] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here From: Hugh'S Jardon To: Flog'S Jardon Msg #32, 16-Jul-92 04:16am Subject: Re: I don't have a neuron which fires anymore. "Yeah, well at least I don't have any of the social diseases you do", Hugh retorted to RV. "Except for drinking, and that's completely self-inflicted." "Shhhhhhh!!! Don't let all the new babes know, or my wife, she'd kill me!" Hugh was already ignoring RV, and took the chance of biting LSd's ear again when Flog was talking with Cadomark. After doing so, Hugh quickly left the room since LSd's scream seemed likely to do damage to the steel structure. He still hadn't really looked around the complex, and wanted to see what an atrocity he had designed. Hugh entered one of the 28 bars in the place. This one was what was his favourite to design - the Rave bar. Industrial steel pierced the walls from all angles, and there was tons of bare concrete, and dangerous shards of metal exposed. His friend Technobrat was hired as a DJ, straight from the Limelight in New York. Hugh went to the bar and ordered a drink from the bartender. "Um, Ecstasy, could I get a very stiff Long Island, please?" She quickly mixed together the drink, spraying a spider into the sink as she poured the coke in, and handed Hugh a Mason jar full. "Thanks." The cyberpunks had started arriving from New York, giving the bar a truly rave type atmosphere. His favourite was the girl who had small lights surgically implanted into her temples, and flashed the lights around as she danced. The cyberpunks liked the place since they could easily lose limbs here which they could then have an excuse to have replaced by the cyber-surgions in New York. Walls of laserlights beamed around the club, playing off of each other. Hugh walked out with a good mild buzz, and some ecstasy which they sold at the bar. He popped a tab and walked over to the elevator. The last three days were just too much, and Hugh wanted some sort of a rest. He took the elevator up to floor 109, and entered his penthouse suite via the fingerprint lock. Hugh's penthouse-apartment was probably the most unique of the three (not that any of the apartments was what one would call normal), but he took the care to supervise finishing of this room himself. The entry was all brushed steel, and corroded copper, bent and welded roughly to form a beautiful steel mosaic. "Lights on", he said, and the apartment lit up, exposing tons of bare concrete, and 3000 watts of speakers stacked in a corner. Hugh poured himself another drink from the bar in the living room, "Blinds down. Fill jacuzzi." The sound of gushing water emmanated from the second level, which was completely open to the lower level. Hugh slowly ascended the circular stairs to the loft, stripping as he went along, sipping on a very dry martini. He shrugged off the last of his clothes as he got to the jacuzzi, and slipped in with a comfortable sigh. "Oh", said a female voice. "I didn't know this room was occupied." --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: What do you take me for? Trade ya. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 *** Witty reply to msg #31. [32] Lastest: 142. From: Cadomark Rec'd To: Flog Sonata Msg #33, 16-Jul-92 12:09pm Subject: Smuggling, eh? "GUNs?" Cadomark asked, increduously. "Yeah, GUNs," Flog replied, "Wanna see mine?" Without waiting for a reply, he pulled out his GUN and showed it to Cadomark. It was a massive brute, with a thick barrel of black, anodized metal. It gleamed in a dark and evil way, and it appeared it fired massive bullets. "That isn't a gun, Flog, that's a portable cannon," Cadomark uttered, his eyes widening in awe. "Geez, can I try it?" "No!" Flog snapped, whipping the GUN away. "It's MINE!" "But, uh..." "NO!" "Oh, let him try it!" LSd snapped, apparently annoyed. The little screaming match had diverted her attention from the elaborate and cunning plans she was making with Richard Visage. She also took a moment to compulsively wipe her ear. "Well, okay, fine," Flog pouted, handing over the GUN. "Muh." Cadomark took the weapon in his hand, and hoisted it up. He sighted down the barrel, aiming at an imaginary target, when he was jostled from behind by a large group of politicians trying to get to Crass Nirvana, who had, just moments before, made his escape. The gun accidentally fired, and the recoil knocked Cadomark flying. Meanwhile, the bullet streaked out, hit Reg's scythe with a clang, causing the scythe to spin like a demented fan. The bullet rebounded towards the punch bowl, glanced off that, took the toupe off a bald man who was playing a slot machine like a gigantic phallus, bouncing off an oddly shaped metallic chandelier. It came back, creased Pat Sajak's left ear lobe, and crashed into a wall, splatting a large tarantula in the process. Cadomark meanwhile had flown into a large bookcase, which fell over on top of him, dumping all sorts of sex manuals on the floor all about. The toupe slowly drifted down and landed on Brandy Nipple's breasts. She giggled. Cadomark pushed the bookcases aside, stood up and screamed triumphantly, "Now, THAT's a GUN!" He handed the smoking weapon back to Flog, who looked it over carefully. "I'll get some agents, and we'll get started immediately!" Cadomark promised, smiling cherubically. "Meanwhile, there's a few books I'd like to read." He strode over to the fallen bookshelves, randomly picked out a book and started reading, snickering rudely from time to time. After finishing a few of the books, he smirked evilly. "Oh, Brandy!" he shouted, "Are you going to be busy tonight?" --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: What do you take me for? Trade ya. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 [33] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. From: Lady Stardust-Sonata Rec'd To: Flog Sonata Msg #34, 16-Jul-92 07:38pm Subject: disposable abstract art LSd looked up from where she was plotting with RV. "Flog, Hugh bit my ear again. I just thought you'd like to know." "...and I figure we can market GUNs to small children since super- soakers are being outlaw... WHAT?!?!?!" "And he tickled my foot, and tried to feel me up." "THAT BASTARD!" Flog picked up a bottle of Elquila by the neck. "I... I..." Foam began spraying from his mouth, he gurgled angrily and his face turned gray. He looked like the Pacific Ocean in a hurricane. "I *will* kill him!" "Waitasec," said LSd. "Uh, isn't that a little drastic? I mean, a coupla ear bites, a proposition or forty..." Flog's eyes bulged as dramatically as his hands. The Elquila bottle he clutched shattered, green fizz spewing out like rancid jello. He thundered out to the reception desk, sounding for all the world like a pack of rabid wild flogs. "WHERE is that little FUCKER, that bastard, that son of a drooling hunchback and Lizzie Borden, the man who called himself my partner..." "Pardon me?" asked the receptionist nervously, easing open the drawer with the emergency stash of valium they had warned her she would need here. "Hugh. Jardon." Flog forced it out between teeth like tombstones. "Penthouse three, Mr Sonata, where he always is." "Thanks. A. Lot." Flog spun around and dashed off to the elevator. LSd, Cadomark and RV were still in the office. "Arencha gonna stop him?" asked RV. "Nah," said LSd. "I figure this is a man thing." --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: What's that BLUE THING doing here? (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Lady Stardust-Sonata To: Post Climactic Depression Msg #35, 16-Jul-92 07:48pm Subject: abstract disposable popsicle sticks Flog paced furiously in the elevator. "I'll rip out his spleen, and feed it to my cats. Then I'll slit his wrists gently and let it bubble into the jacuzzi. Then I'll..." <*PING*> In his penthouse, Hugh was slipping into the comfortably bubbling water, next to the woman. "So, you have beautiful eyes," said Hugh. "Thank you," she said. Hugh began to relax into the situation... and then Flog broke the door down with his head. "I'M GWANNA KILL YOU!" Flog screamed. "EEK!" screamed the woman, springing out of the water, grabbing her clothes, and fleeing. "FUCK!" screamed Hugh. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: What's that BLUE THING doing here? (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 [35] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Flog Sonata To: Mr Jardon Msg #36, 17-Jul-92 03:26am Subject: PrePARE to DIE. Flog waved the broken bottle around, dangerously near Hugh's genitals. "DEATH," Flog screamed. "Um, could we talk this over, hombre' to hombre'? I'll buy you a beer and we can settle this..." Hugh said, just before having a broken beer bottle pushed up against (but not into) his throat. "LSd and I are in LOVE," Flog bellowed, "you don't fuck with LOVE. Love is a primal force that'll have yer balls lobbed off and nailed to a plaque and hung in my living room, you unnerstand you butt-fucking weasel licking piece of steaminbg excrement?" "Umm..." Hugh said. Flog pulled out his GUN. "Want me to shove this up yer ass and blow yer intestines through your face?" Flog asked cheerfully. "Not especially," Hugh snivelled. "Oh," Flog said, disapointed, "Are you sure?" "Pretty sure," Hugh said. "Absolutely?" Flog asked with hope. "'Fraid so," Hugh said. "Shit, well, then I'm juss gonna have to slit yer throat with my swiss army knife, corkscrew yer eye-balls out, and then cut a new asshole in yer forehead." Flog was not a pleased person, plus he had enough MSG in his veins to make a rhino charge and tap dance on your forehead. "I'll be good, I'll be awfully good," Hugh wept, "Only please leave my genitals intact! Please?" "Can I scar you?" Flog said hopefully, "It doesn't have to be in a place that strangers will see. Only intimate lady friends. When they ask 'How did you get this scar across yer ass?' you can answer 'I was a dumb fuck and deserved every single one of the 49 stitches across my asshole.'" "Ummm..." Hugh said. "Too late!" Flog bellowed, and stabbed at Hugh in a random body part. "AARGH!" Hugh screamed. "It's just a scratch," Flog said, "Don't be such a baby. I wouldn't actually kill you. I just want to show you that if you don't stop this bullshit, I will kill you." "Oh," Hugh said, noticing that what he thought was a lethal blow was only a scratch on his scrotum. "Now what was that you said about buying everyone in the casino a beer?" Flog growled, brandishing the shattered bottle as if it were a shattered bottle. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: What's that BLUE THING doing here? (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 From: Flog Sonata To: Hugh Jardon'S Small Penis Msg #37, 17-Jul-92 03:37am Subject: (A contradiction or an expose'?) "I never said I'd buy beer for everyone in the casino!" Hugh screamed. "I think you did," Flog said calmly. "But..." Flog looked angry. In a bad way. "Uh, ok," Hugh snivelled, "take it out of my share of the contract." "And I think we're gonna have to renegotiate that as well," Flog screamed into Hugh's ear, "seeing as how we have a 'NO DUMBFUCKS' clause and everything..." "Uh..." Hugh said. "Well, I'll let you off this time," Flog said, "because I can understand how you would be swept off your feet and into oblivion by my luscious amazing fiance'." "You're too kind," Hugh wept. Flog left the room. "Is he gone?" said the naked woman in Hugh's employ. "He's gone," Hugh said. "Will we have to have this fantasy role playing thing later?" "I have a bleeding scrotum!" Hugh screamed, "Do I look like a guy that wants to play 'Tie up my genitals and wait til Xmas'?" "Well, there was this one guy..." started the woman. "Enough, here's your money, go away." Hugh said, grabbing his wallet and throwing money at the hired hand (not to mention the other bits). Hugh cupped his sensitive testicles in his hand, and searched his penthouse apartment for iodine. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: What's that BLUE THING doing here? (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 *** There's a reply!. See #38. [37] Lastest: 142. From: Hugh'Scrotum To: Flog'Elquila Bottle Msg #38, 17-Jul-92 04:20am Subject: Re: Great... now what? Hugh hopped into the bathroom, and searched through the stainless steel drawers for something to sew himself up with. All that the hotel staff had stashed for him were boxes of Ottawa Senators brand condoms, toothpaste and dental floss. "Shit," muttered Hugh, and grabbed the dental floss and jumped down to the kitchen. There he found some round toothpicks, and with his Swiss Army knife, created a needle. Hugh carefully stitched himself up while sipping on two bottles of Elquila through a straw - when finished, his testicles looked something like a baseball, but at least it was in tact (though somewhat swelled). Hugh dressed, and went back downstairs. He found Flog in bar #8 where Look People were playing. The drummer had just played charades with the audience, but they didn't guess the name of the song: "Weiner bag". "Um... , excuse me Flog..." shouted Hugh right behind Flog's left ear. "What do you want now?" "Well, in order to decrease the tension, could you two please hurry up on the LSd statue you promised me? I'm sure I'd be able to control myself better then..." "Hugh, you know that those things take time. LSd hasn't programmed in all of the *special* knowledge she has yet..." "So what am I supposed to do in the meantime?" "Find somebody else... just don't touch LSd." Hugh considered that for a moment. The moment lasted a long moment since the Elquila had started to dull synapse firing sequences. Look People were playing "The Hustle". "Well, it's not that easy Flog", Hugh whimpered. "Well, try harder, Hugh. You're wealthy, and a decent enough person except that you hit on my fiance... there's got to be someone who you could take out your lust on." Hugh looked at Flog for a moment longer. A green haze seemed to overtake the bar as Look People started into a new song: I think that I may be balding Hairline is receeding, going, going, gone. If it was your hair - bet it would annoy ya But it's me that's got hairanoia. Then, unexpectedly, Hugh grabbed Flog's face, and kissed him full on the lips. Flog staggered for a second, not knowing what to do, and LSd simply said "Ew. Flog, you're *never* kissing me again!" Flog looked into Hugh's eyes and saw pure lust raging inside. "Oh, gawd! Look what the Elquila's done to him!", Flog screamed, running out of the bar --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: A scratch on the scrotum, a punch in the penis. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 *** Neverending msg thread. [38] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Lady Stardust-Sonata To: Testicles Like Baseballs Msg #39, 17-Jul-92 11:03am Subject: lovely Samba chicken The lead singer of the Look People bounced around like a two year old on speed. "I keep pulling up my pants, but they keep falling down!" he screamed. The small audience screamed back at him. After the din died down, LSd left the table to climb onto the stage. "You were amazing," she said to the drummer. "What?" "YOU WERE AMAZING!" "Oh." He shook his head. "After a show I'm near deaf for a half hour, and blinded by my clothes." He pointed to the red dress with multicoloured polka dots on it. He looked at her more closely. "Hey, I remember you from the time we played Barrymore's. Look everybody, it's the Barrymore's Interview Girl, LSd!" The rest of the band looked over and waved. "So what are you doing now?" the drummer, Great Bobby Scott, asked. "I own this place." "Ah..." "I want you to play the main nightclub, the one directly off from the casino. It seats 1500." Bobby's eyes widened. "Uh... how much?" He rubbed at the stamp on his forehead that read 'DORMANT'. "Door," said LSd. "Guarranteed minimum of ten grand." "For sure," said the drummer. "Pleasure doin' business with you. Come back in two weeks." --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: A scratch on the scrotum, a punch in the penis. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 From: Lady Stardust-Sonata To: Tattered Genes Msg #40, 17-Jul-92 11:11am Subject: as I lay dying The next morning, LSd received a call in her and Flog's penthouse suite. She was dead asleep, dreaming of thrusting an apple into the mouth of a blond vampire who subsequently turned into pieces of torn paper. The paper blew away gently down the darkened sidewalk until she couldn't even see it dancing from her, and she felt she needed to find it, but couldn't go after it. Then the phone rang, and she went to a phone booth to answer it. "Ms. Stardust?" "Yes?" "She's finished. She'll be arriving soon." "What? Ah... Already?" "Yes. We haven't tested her as extensively as we would have liked, but the eggs were going bad." "Of course, I'll be expecting her. What should we call her?" "Just call her The Machine." "Okay." LSd hung up the phone and turned down the street, walking towards the sunset. She lifted off her feet and began to fly up into the lightening indigo sky, her skirts twisting about her feet like flattened snakes. She shut her eyes as she climbed higher, to protect them from the heat of the sun and the cold of space. When she opened them, she was lying in bed next to Flog, who was just waking up himself. "I had a weird dream," she said, yawning, "that they called and said the Lady Stardust statue Mark VI was finished." "They *did*," said Flog sleepily. "It woke me up, you talked to them..." "Oh." She arrived at two that afternoon, packaged up in a lead-lined box. "Deliver it... I mean her... up to our penthouse, #1, on the 110th floor," LSd cried excitedly. She was beautifully crafted to be a chrome and glass duplicate of LSd. "Can you assume a more human appearance?" LSd inquired. "Of. course. Unfortunately. the. speech. program. seems. to. need. some. work." A psuedoskin grew out over the chrome, covering all the metal. Her hair coloured itself reddish brown, her eyes greenish brown. "Most impressive," said LSd. "And of course, you understand that your primary underlying loyalty is to *me*, and that is hardcoded?" "Naturally." The Machine's pink glossy lips smiled. "I. am. afraid. it. is. easy. to. discern. that. I. am. a. machine. at. present. but. I. trust. a. new. speech. module. is. being. developed." "The most important part is that you'll distract Hugh." LSd smiled evilly and the machine mirrored her movements. "Ah, I have done well," she allowed herself. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: A scratch on the scrotum, a punch in the penis. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 *** There's a reply!. See #41. [40] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. From: Lady Stardust-Sonata To: The Machine Msg #41, 17-Jul-92 11:31am Subject: I wanna be an activist when I grow up "Hugh," called LSd as he ran down the hallway to escape Flog, who was again chasing him with an Elquila bottle... something about a grabbed crotch? "I am NOT to be hit on, this is LOVE you know, I LOVE LSd, and I'm not available, you..." Flog glanced behind him and saw two LSds. He slowed, stopped and grinned. "Hugh!" Hugh too slowed and stopped. LSd pointed to The Machine. "This is my twin sister, uhm, Galatea. She's come to visit and stick around for a while." "Pardon. my. speech. I. am. not. fully. bilingual." Galatea/The Machine smiled provocatively. "I see," said Hugh, his eyes widening. "Well, LSd, can I buy your sister a drink?" "I don't see why not," said LSd, smiling sweetly. "Hugh!" Hugh too slowed and stopped. LSd pointed to The Machine. "This is my twin sister, uhm, Galatea. She's come to visit and stick around for a while." "Pardon. my. speech. I. am. not. fully. bilingual." Galatea/The Machine smiled provocatively. "I see," said Hugh, his eyes widening. "Well, LSd, can I buy your sister a drink?" "I don't see why not," said LSd, smiling sweetly. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: A scratch on the scrotum, a punch in the penis. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 *** Witty reply to msg #40. [41] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Cadomark To: U-Haul Msg #42, 17-Jul-92 04:11pm Subject: Others have come, but few have survived. Cadomark had taken a lot of time, and a lot of quarters stolen from unattended slot machines to make a few phone calls. Old habits died hard, apparently, as he caught himself stealing the money he didn't really need. He ripped out a number of sheets from a yellow-pages book, and hastily made more calls. He found a number of office furniture suppliers, screamed at them for a while, arranged to have a few shipments made, and settled back. He made one last call to his friends in Nicaragua. After a day or so, the shipments began arriving. He commandeered an upper-storey apartment and had the myriad numbers of large crates sent there, save for the ones stamped with "Mexi-Casa taco-shells". Those he had sent to another room, deep in the subterrean dungeon of the building that only the foolish would call a basement. Cadomark spent the next while unpacking crates and setting himself up with an office, complete with swivel chairs, massive oaken desks and WATS lines. As a final touch, he mounted the ruins of his bike on the wall, between two impressive paintings of wolves. His office was almost ready. A helicopter could be heard overhead, scaring off the nearby birds with the "shooka shooka" noise that its rotors made. A swarthy man climbed down a rope ladder and swung through Cadomark's office window. "Emmanuel!" Cadomark called, more than pleased to see the individual, despite the shards of glass that were now scattered over the floor. "I have a little security think I'd like you to set up here, okay?" he asked the man, shaking his hand. Emmanuel looked quite pleased. He quickly scanned the room, pried off a few floor panels, and got right to work. Cadomark took the elevator down and met Flog in the main concert room. A number of people were making rude noises into the microphone, listening to the sounds echo due to the room's impressive acoustics. "I got a few shipments in already, man," Cadomark whispered to Flog in his best imitation of hoarse gangster-talk. "You mean the GUNS!?" Flog said rather ecstatically, having forgotten that he was in front of a live microphone. The crowd looked up stupidly, desperately trying to see how well buried the rudeness was in that phrase. Overwhelmed, perhaps, by the extreme genius of it, they began to applaud. Cadomark escorted Flog out of the room. After a long trip into the "basement" (using the term loosely), a large pile of boxes were seen. Flog rushed ahead and cracked a box open, only to see taco shells. He looked quite dissapointed. "Dig deeper," Cadomark prompted, but all that could be found in the one box was more taco shells. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: Beasts in their major freedom slumber. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 [42] Lastest: 142. From: Flog Sonata Rec'd To: Cadomark Msg #43, 17-Jul-92 08:09pm Subject: Sex, drugs, rock n roll, and dead spiders. "These are just taco shells, Cad," Flog groaned. "Uh..." "These aren't guns." "Uh..." "These are tacos." "Uh..." "And, they don't fire bullets." "No..." "And they just sit there, filled with meat and vegetable things and you take a bite and they crack and spill goo all over your new shirt you just cleaned and then you have to get it dry cleaned and the dry cleaners shrink your goddam shirt to twenty times smaller than it used to be, and you hire hit men to kill the dry cleaners and the hit men can't kill the drycleaners cuz they're armed with FUCKING TACO SHELLS!" "Uh.." Cadomark muttered. It was then that a huge spider crawled out of the taco box and scuttled across the floor. Instantly alert, Cadomark lept on it, stomping on it. The spider didn't die. He jumped on it repeatedly. The spider was stunned for a few seconds, then moved again. "Let me try," Flog said, pulling out a huge knife. He stabbed the spider repeatedly. It didn't die. "I have an idea," Cadomark said, and doused the spider in lighter fluid, then lit it aflame. Flog and Cadomark watched as it writhed. The flames died down and the spider looked confused, but very alive. "This is annoying," Flog said, "it musta snuck in to the crate in Tijuana. One of those indestructable spiders from hell." Flog pulled out his GUN and fired a few rounds at the spider, which deftly jumped about and refused to die. Flog picked up the spider by one leg, and ripped all the legs off, one by one. "There," Cadomark said. The spider's legs grew back quickly, visibly. "Shit," Flog said. It was then that Cadomark and Flog realized that the spider would never die. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: Beasts in their major freedom slumber. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 *** There's a reply!. See #44. [43] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Hugh Jardon Rec'd To: Flog Sonata Msg #44, 18-Jul-92 07:11am Subject: Re: Not just Caomar likes Mason jars... The two of them looked rather stunned, and disturbed. The spider continued to scuttle about the room. "This spider deserves to be kept", suggested Cadomark. "Good idea. I think we'll put it in a *big jar*." Cadomark winced visibly. "Hold on, watch the spider, I'll get one from the kitchen." While Cadomark was upstairs, Flog tried firing the gun at the spider again while it was in a corner... this time with incendiary bullets. The spider stopped for a few seconds, but still refused to die. Cadomark came back "Here Flog, this should do", he said carrying a jar from hell. "That jar filled could feed the Market's bums for a week!" "Well, you do have an industrial sized kitchen... they get industrial sized everything." Flog grabbed the spider, and dropped it inside. "We should find a place to put this where we can watch it. I still can't figure out why the damn thing's so strong... bastard!" Flog put the jar down on the desk, and replaced the lid. Then he remembered why he was down there. "Um, Cadomark, have you checked the other crate of taco shells yet?" Cadomark threw him a worried look. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: Beasts in their major freedom slumber. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 *** Witty reply to msg #43. [44] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Hugh Jardon To: Galatea Msg #45, 18-Jul-92 07:18am Subject: Re: Hook, Line and Sinker. Hugh took Galatea to his suite, and poured some of his personal cellar's best champagne. He couldn't believe his luck, that LSd had a personal twin and she'd never mentioned it to him. Now she was sitting with him in his suite, sipping champagne, and smiling demurely. "So, where are you visiting from?" "Well. I. have. lived. in. many. places. Some. of. my. time. in. Japan. some. in. the. States. some. time. in. Germany. and. in. Canada. of. course." Hugh looked rather confused. Her speech was impeccable New Brunswick, and had no hint of other accents, and he mentioned this. "My. early. life. was. there. too. My. time. in. other. countries. was. rather. short. really." She smiled again, and sipped on her champagne glass. One of Hugh's phones rang to distract the ever-so-perfect-atmosphere the virtual reality holography was creating. "Excuse me", said Hugh, politely, and answered a phone. "Hello... uh-huh... yeah... sure... all right... no problem... right... thanks... goodbye." Hugh came back, "Uh, I hate to cut this short, but I have something I've been called to. Being a partner here, I have to make sure certain jobs are undertaken properly... but I'm sure I'll see you at dinner, right?" "Of. course. See. you. then." After Galatea left, Hugh cursed these new clients. He had to do some new structural drawings for the South face of the building, since two more custom apartments had to be made. He knew the names, but hadn't seen them in a long time. Hugh sat down at the computer, and started altering the plans for the building on the 100th and 101st level. "Damn those guys! We'll have to make sure they pay premium prices for this!" Hugh quickly layed out the basic structure and finishes, and called up his contractor. The job could be done rush in a week they said. "Fuck that! You'll get it done within 3 days, and I'm gonna personally supervise, so no cutting corners! Bring the steel specialists as well... I'm gonna need them!" He sat and drew out the rest of the sketches by hand, then scanned them into the computer. "Who the fuck do those guys think they are anyway... especially to be calling me from another galaxy?!?" --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: Beasts in their major freedom slumber. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 [45] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Flog Sonata To: Spider In A Jar Msg #46, 18-Jul-92 10:35am Subject: Poke Poke Poke Meanwhile, back in texas... No, wait, uh... Meanwhile, back with Cadomark and Flog: "So what kind of spider is it?" "Dunno, I'll go get the encyclopedias." "Wow." (SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE) "Got em. Spider... Spider..." "Lookit him dancing about in there." (SHAKE) "Uh, Spider. 'An eight legged beasty critter with 8 legs'. That's all it says." "What kind of cruddy encyclopedia is that?" "The man who sold it to me said it only works when it rains." "Well, it's not raining." "Oh." (SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE SHAKE shake SHAKE) "Seems to be just sitting there." "Yup." Meanwhile, in another part of the casino, Reg, AKA the Grim Reaper, was busy painting and varnishing his bones. "Doo dee dooo," Reg sang as he worked. "Mr Death sir?" a nervous busboy came up. "Just Reg'll do nicely, what?" "The drummer for the look people is trying to have sex with the salad bar." "Hummm... Make him stop." "I tried to sir, but he said 'No, I am satan and I can do what I want' and then he put a condom on and continued molesting the black olives. What can we do sir?" "Artists," Reg sighed, "Uh, well... I'll go put a stop to it." Meanwhile, in yet another part of the casino, Crass was trying to find Incoherent Rambler. "He got off on this goddam floor, where is he?" Crass muttered. "Hey Crass," said the man in blue. Crass gasped. "You're not Incoherent Rambler! You're... You're..." "Yes," the man in blue cackled, "I'm not Rambler... I'm.." "No, let me guess," Crass said, "You're Orville Redennbacher, that popcorn guy." "No, I'm..." "You're Bob Loblaw, that guy who writes the insider report!" "No, I..." "You're Ralph Nader and you've come to take away defective cheese graters!" "No..." "Well, I give up then," Crass said. "I'm Bob Rae, I'm your province's minister!" Bob Rae whined. "Oh, I don't really like politics that much," Crass said, and got back into the elevator. "Do I look like Orville Redenbacher?" Bob wondered. Actually, he looks more like Howdy Doody. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: Beasts in their major freedom slumber. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 From: Cadomark Rec'd To: Flog Sonata Msg #47, 18-Jul-92 12:47pm Subject: And the spider came back (thought he was a goner) They shook the jar. They dropped things into the jar and to try to kill it. They dropped sticks of dynamite into the jar. Both the spider and the jar survived. They filled the jar with water and then urine, but the spider refused to drown. They even filled the jar full of chlorine gas, but to no avail. "Flog, try whacking it with the encyclopedia when I let it out," Cadomark suggested. "No, that isn't going to work. How are we going to do this?" Cadomark sat in a corner, casting glances at the spider swimming about in the thick, green, and highly toxic gas that filled the jar. He pulled out some taco shells and began munching on them, pondering various forms of destruction. "If we doused it in acid? Nah." "If we hooked it up to a power source and electrocuted it? Nah." "Cadomark!" Flog interjected. "If we forced it to eat blue rice pudding? Nah." "CADOMARK!" "If we hurled it from the top of the building? Nah." "CAAADDOOOMMAARK!!" Flog leaped up, slapped the taco shells aside and shook Cadomark vigorously until he saw signs of life returning. "Why don't we just ask Reg?" offered Flog. "He knows all about death. We'll take it to him." Meanwhile, in a grocery store in town, a little kid found that inside the box of taco-shells his mother bought was a GUN. The store was inundated with children racing to the store to buy taco-shells. The manager didn't know what to make of it, but didn't overly mind. In another part of the building, Richard Visage was blissfully sleeping in his very luxuriant apartment, with Miss Snap-on-Tools curled right beside him. He will have no memory of the night's events, but he won't mind either. The slot machines were sucking up qcoins rapidly, the tables were all doing well, and the women were never that busy in their life. Things were going well for everyone, except for Crass, who was now pinned in a corner by Bob Rae, who petulantly demanded to know why he wasn't recognized for who he was. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: Howdy Doody OWNS Ontario. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 [47] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Richard Visage Rec'd To: Cadomark Msg #48, 18-Jul-92 08:35pm Subject: Horsing a Dead Flog "This probably isn't a good sign," thought Visage, awakening with a sharp throb in his cerebral cortex, as he surveyed the room. There was a littering of empty beer and wine bottles around the room which would make walking nearly impossible, some of the furniture was upside down, and a couch hung delicately by its legs from the railing of the balcony. Large blobs of mayonnaise and cream cheese hung from the ceiling, having solidified before they could fall to the floor. A kiddie pool full of chocolate pudding sat silently in the corner, with the exception of slurping noises when trout jumped from from its surface, gasping for oxygen. A large trail of chocolate footprints led to and from the bed to the kiddie pool. Central to the room was that harbinger of nastiness, the sign that all has spiralled out of control, the empty bottle of Jack Daniels, consumed at 5 am, placed on it's side on a table. "Fuck." cursed Visage silently, actually thankful for the amnesia-causing liquid. And then, there was her. Ms. Snap-on-Tools, stark naked and severely clamped onto his left arm. "Oh shit." thought Visage, briefly admiring her sculptured tan-lines, "this poor woman has stumbled into the wrong room in the middle of the night!" Visage carefully unclamped her fingers from his arm, and staggered into the washroom, where he dived for a fistful of tylenols. On the mirror, he noticed that a heart had been drawn in lipstick, underscored by the brief text, "Luv ya, xoxo." "Obviously, someone who kept bad company had this room before me," thought Visage, throwing on some clothes and tiptoe-ing toward the door, the occasional betraying bottle clink not disturbing Ms. Snap-on-Tools. Visage turned around and returned to the washroom and fished for a bottle. Happily, he found what he wanted and snarfed down a handful. "Revisionist History Morning Ultra- Vitamins," read the bottle. Visage re-traced his steps, and closed the door silently. It was impossible not to notice the trail of unpleasant detritus and scowling cleaning staff that led from the elevators to his door, but, on the strength of the vitamins, Visage managed not to see them. With a 'ka-shlook' the elevator doors shut and transported Visage downwards. A few moments later he entered a room to discover Flog and Cadomark stuffing hand grenades into a jar. "Like, whuzzup?" queried Visage. "The effing spider won't die," grumped Flog, pointing an acetylene torch at the jar. "Uhm, why dontcha forget it, just leave it alone? " mumbled Visage as he stood back from the heat of the flame. "Because it's evil and nasty and rotten and shitty and dirty and scummy and, and, and..." stammered Flog. "Symbolic." offered Cadomarc. "Ah," hemmed Visage. "Like, y'know, the sucker will never die so long as you *care* so much." "Saywhut?" growled Flog, stuffing a tactical nuclear device into the jar. "Like, why wouldya want it to die, anyway? Why dontcha just try and, uh," stuttered Visage. "Outclass it?" philosophized Cadomarc. "Yeah. Whynot? Why do you need it so much?" "Stand back," glowered Flog, backing up a truckful of toxic waste towards the jar... --- * Origin: Grace and Danger (613) 836-4789 Ottawa, Canada (1:163/150) SEEN-BY: 163/110 135 150 166 207 222 227 266 277 290 305 400 401 405 410 SEEN-BY: 163/518 243/5 9 *** There's a reply!. See #49. [48] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Flog Sonata To: Richard Visage Msg #49, 19-Jul-92 12:56am Subject: No no no... "Uncle Visage, you don't understand! We just found the spider in a box of guns and its our pet!" Flog wailed. "Yeah," CadomarK agreed, "We don't like pets that damage easily." "So I guess we thought we'd bash it and do stuff to it. I mean, if the pet can't withstand being jumped on, it has no place in my home." "But isn't it ugly and horrid and stinky and terrible?" Visage asked, confused. "No Uncle V," Cadomark chirped, "It's cool 'n gnarly 'n stuff." "Spiders are neat," Flog agreed. "Er, but I thought it was a symbol of Spike's!" Visage yelled. A silence fell over the three. Alarms went off. "REALITY BREACH! REALITY BREACH!" squawked hidden speakers. "Spike's?" Flog said nervously, "Gosh, what's that?" The bells and alarms died down as if they never happened. "Er, but..." Richard started. "No, don't!" Cadomark yelled. "But, how can I, er approach the subject without...alarms?" It was then that the narrator started speaking as if it were actually a person, and not just some sort of literary device in the background, meant to make things move along. The narrator, speaking in a soft tone, said something about how the spider was actually the continuation of a theme. The side benefits of attacking Spike's were not really thought of at great length. Characters had been crushing spiders since the beginning, and the symbol has moved along. "Oh, er..." Rv said. "Don't acknowledge the narrator," Flog whispered, "he thinks he's all important and if it weren't for him, we'd all be random words." "Ok," RV said. It was then that the narrator went off into a corner and sulked, refusing to come out of the corner until he was placated. The narrator's girlfriend came up to him, gave him a blowjob, and he felt much better, and continued along in the little story. In return for her services, the narrator's girlfriend got a luscious sexual act of her very own, which she had bronzed, and now keeps on the mantlepiece as a conversational tidbit. "So like, we love the spider, and it has nothing to do with..." Flog looked around nervously, "whatever." "Yeah," Cadomark said. "Oh," RV said, "I guess I misunderstood." "That's ok," Flog said, "I guess it's a pretty easy thing to mix up cuz it does sort of look like we're doing what you said we were doing when we weren't so uh... We weren't." --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: Howdy Doody OWNS Ontario. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 From: Flog Sonata To: Uncle V And His Wild Herring. Msg #50, 19-Jul-92 01:11am Subject: A happy spider eats his applesauce. And so Flog and Cadomark fed the spider a crispy taco shell, which it devoured in seconds. "Guess it got hungry from all that beating..." Flog said, stroking the spider in the jar with a careful hand. "Ayep," Cadomark agreed. "Weren't we gonna take this spider to Reg and ask him why it won't die?" "Yeah, I guess we were." They went off to find Reg. "Those crazy kids," chortled Uncle Viz, wondering if the liquor supplies downstairs in the cellar were ok, and that maybe somebody better check that all the bottles REALLY DID contain alcohol and not some sort of sugar-water substitute. ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: From: Cadomark Rec'd To: Flog Sonata Msg #51, 19-Jul-92 04:20pm Subject: Spider, spider on the wall. Who's the... err, nevermind. Richard Visage shuffled back to his room, trying to figure out just went on the night before. He shut the door, but even the great thickness of the oaken portal was insufficient to silence the noises of items being thrown around. Flog and Cadomark went down to the lobby, where Reg was threatening to scythe off the drummer's penis if he didn't stop molesting the salad bar. A large quantity of... mayonnaise was puddled around the drummer's feet. "Uh, Reg?" asked Flog, trying to get the skeletal figure's attention. "Reg?" chimed in Cadomark, trying his best to act like a flunky. "Stop that, would you? This is your last warning!" commanded Reg, being largely ignored by the drummer. "You said that 34 warnings ago," he grunted, adding a little more mayonnaise to the puddle on the floor. "REG!" screamed Cadomark and Flog in unison. Reg jumped in shock, leaving his ankles behind momentarily. "What do you want?" gasped the skeleton, after having regained his breath. "Uh, we got this spider here that we can't kill," said Cadomark, showing the jar. "Could you look at it?" "Wait, uh, isn't that sym..." "No it isn't," interupted Flog, "It's just a pet that's really annoying." "But I thought it *was* symbolic," whispered Cadomark to Flog. "We're supposed to be better than that," replied Flog in a whisper. "We're not going to mention Thelma and Louise. We're supposed to be mature and have fun and stuff." "Oh," returned Cadomark, looking quite perplexed. "Well, it's alright then." Reg was looking at the contents of the jar, turning it about, shaking it around and generally looking quite pleased. "You said you couldn't kill it?" he asked. "Uhh, yeah," replied Cadomark. "We tried and tried, but to no avail." "What did you do?" inquired Reg, stroking his skeletal chin with his free hand. "Well, we uhh..." "We stomped on it," uttered Flog. "And we lit it on fire," stated Cadomark. "And we shot bullets at it," "And we tore it's legs off," "And we made it breath chlorine gas," "And we pissed on it," "And we force-fed it taco shells," "And we tried to blow it up with grenades," "Don't forget the dynamite," "Yeah, and the torch," "And the..." "And the..." They wandered off, counting various forms of desctruction on their fingers. Reg looked at the jar and started to pet tthe spider. He looked as happy as a skeleton could ever look. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: "Step on Spider! YAW!" (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 *** Witty reply to msg #50. [51] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. From: Flog Sonata Rec'd To: Cadomark Msg #52, 20-Jul-92 01:48am Subject: Not a sybol?? Well, it wasn't supposed to be, really... Reg examined the spider thoughtfully. "You can't kill it because it's a symbol," Reg said flatly. "No it's not, it's just a spider," Flog insisted. "I told you it was a symbol," Cadomark said, "but you wouldn't listen." "It's not a symbol!" Flog yelled. "It is," Reg said. "Richard Visage said it was a symbol too," Cadomark pointed out. "Well, it's not," Flog grumbled. "Look, it's a symbol whether you want it to be or not," Reg said. "Well, I don't want the bloody thing then," Flog said grumpilly, "Kill it Reg, blow its fucking brains out." "I can't," Reg said, "It's a symbol. I only deal with live things." "Well, what the hell do we do then?" Cadomark wailed. "You've got to bring the symbol to its natural denouement," Reg explained. "Yeah," the drummer agreed, doing nasty things with some croutons and his anus. "Well Jesus, how the hell can I bring this symbol to a denouement? We all know what it is a symbol of, but... Like, er... What can I do?" Flog asked. Reg, Flog, Cad, and the drummer looked at the spider with anger and disgust. It was like nuclear waste. "RV said we could let it go..." Cadomark managed. "Not proper," Flog said, "I mean, it'd have to be a symbolic letting go." "What's wrong with just setting it loose?" asked the drummer. "It's just not good enough is all," Flog growled. "Sheesh, touchy!" the drummer moaned, shoving his head face first into the thousand island dressing. "How strong is this jar?" Flog asked no one in particular. "It had big hairy pickles in it when i found it," Cadomark said. "It did survive a dynamite blast," Flog agreed, "Well, let's just put it in the safe and leave it there. There's a safe at the front desk. We'll just lock it up, ignore it, and forget about it." "That's repression," Reg pointed out, "Freud says that repressed anxiety causes all sorts of mental failings and things." "Freud's dead," Flog pointed out, "and he was an asshole." "Oh bugger, what can you do with a jar containing a toxic spider symbol?" Cadomark asked. "Give you twenty bucks for it," the drummer said, raising his head out of the dressing. There was a moment of silence. "Ok," Flog said, and handed over the jar to the drummer, quickly pocketing the twenty he got in return. The drummer opened the jar, plucked out the spider, and ate it. "I dunno about denouement," he said, "but I know what I like." --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: that blasts the root of trees is my destroyer. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 From: Flog Sonata Rec'd To: Cadomark Msg #53, 20-Jul-92 02:03am Subject: Weren't we doing something? "Well, that's that," Flog said, "but what about these GUNs?" "Get out of the salad bar now," Reg said to the drummer. "No," the drummer muttered, "I'm in love with this head of iceburg lettuce and we will never be seperated, ever." "You can take it with you," Reg promised. "Er, did you see the newspapers today, Flog?" Cadomark asked quietly. "No, why?" "I love this lettuce, and I wouldn't dream of asking it to leave its natural habitat for me." "Well, look..." Cadomark said, handing Flog a newspaper. "Lettuce doesn't have a natural habitat!" Reg yelled. The headline read: Kids with GUNs Kill Lotsa Folks "Good lord," Flog gasped. "Yep, the local grocery store got our shipment and now little kids are roaming the streets with weapons." "Lettuce has strength," whispered the drummer, "Lettuce KNOWS." "But, can we get another shipment or something?" Flog sniffed. "Yes, I think so." Cadomark managed. "French dressing is the sacred sauce!" screamed the drummer of the Look People, smearing orange goop all over his lettuce-love and himself. "Wait'll he finds out that isn't french dressing but ketchup and mayonaise!" Reg chortled to Cadomark and Flog in an aside. Meanwhile, Crass was fending off Bob Rae with a big stick. And where's Lady Stardust? I forget. And where's Hugh Jardon? Hugh was in his luxurious room, answering phone calls and playing with his electronic LSd, which he thought was LSd's twin sister (whose fake name I've forgotten, and I'm the bloody narrator. Shit.) and who Hugh was trying to get into bed already, being the tactful guy that he is... "Do you come here often?" Hugh stuttered. Meanwhile, Richard Visage was in his room, eating a chocolate pudding stuffed trout, raw. Meanwhile, everyone was sort of waiting for Lacy Lover to come through the main doors and bring some chaos to all this order. Well, not order really. She would certainly brighten up the place, and maybe she could bring in that anachronistic boyfriend thing of hers. And where was Metal Rob? Still on the planet Nipple? The narrator was getting ahead of himself, and starting to speak in a tone most unsuitable. --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: that blasts the root of trees is my destroyer. (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 [53] Lastest: 142. From: Lady Stardust-Sonata Rec'd To: Flog Sonata Msg #54, 20-Jul-92 12:04pm Subject: I'm right *here*, Mr Narrator Just then, the narrator's girlfriend got very annoyed because the narrator was being altogether too self-absorbed, and she wanted him to be absorbed with her for a while. Or absorb something. Or something. Hugh and *Galatea* were sitting up in the study of Hugh's penthouse, with Hugh trying to impress her with the large collection of books he'd had *specially* imported during a free second after he'd met her that afternoon. He was drinking Guinness, to impress on her that he was an ordinary man, despite his wealth he drank beer, yet the beer he chose was unusual, like himself. She was drinking some bizarre concotion she'd randomly determined for herself, involving cherry brandy, blue curaco and a pureed lime. "I'm. very. fond. of. early. twentieth. century. literature." she said. "Particularly. James. Joyce. and. Finnegan's. Wake." Hugh fumbled covertly for his stash of electronic Coles Notes. He could flip the module into his ear and it would automatically subliminally feed all the data on the book into his eardrum. He flipped through the Braille notations on the tiny chips. Then to his horror he realized there were about twenty chips on Finnegan's Wake. Slowly, he began to remember his literature prof, the one he'd ignored so many years ago, saying "Finnegan's Wake is the most incomprehensible book in the English language, it took Joyce twenty years to write it and it will probably take at least that long to understand it as a reader." "Really," said Hugh shakily. "I haven't read Finnegan's Wake, what's it about?" Galatea, being a computer with still a few small glitches here and there, had a passion for literature. She began to explain Finnegan's Wake. The longer Hugh watched her, her glistening pink lips moving sensuously around the words and her graceful hands describing visceral arcs in the air as punctuation, the more he lusted after her. "Tell me more, about more Joyce books," he groaned, squirming to cover his Jardon. She began to talk about _Ulysses_. By the time she was done, it was three AM, and Hugh was desperately in love, no matter what her weird speech patterns. "Good. Heavens." she said, glancing at her watch in a way that made Hugh want to swoon down onto the carpet. "It's. very. late. I. must. go. so. that. you. may. sleep." She stood up and stacked all ten of her drink glasses neatly next to the electronic bartender. Hugh was so heartbroken at her leaving that he could barely say goodbye, not to mention that he had been keeping up with her in drinks. So she left. "What manner of woman is this?" he slurred, "that can drink so much and still get home safely? I must possess her ass." --- Opus-CBCS 1.14 * Origin: BAD narrator, BAD! Sit! STAY! STAY! (1:163/290.0) SEEN-BY: 163/135 207 290 305 405 410 518 243/9 *** Witty reply to msg #53. [54] Lastest: 142. Press ENTER for NEXT msg. Echo area 24 ... Flog and LSd *Come* Here ECHOMAIL: [A C D N E R = L I M G F U ?]: =================================================== harmlesslion.com - Not for Commercial Use