Part LXXXVII - Follow the Bouncing Plot!

  A field of green energy flooded the quarterdeck of the USS Unlimited Inc., and suddenly half a dozen Generation Xers were lounging around, rolling their eyes and looking at their watches. 

  "Captain," screamed Barry, "The Bored have invaded the ship!"

  "I can see that, Barry."  Captain Poopdeck turned to the invaders.  "Greetings, I am Captain..."

  "Heard it!" said one of the Bored. 

  Ed said, "Excuse me, I think you've lost another sock." 

  "What, again?" The guard leaned over the rotating socks that produced the Static Field. 

  Ed grabbed the man's hair and shoved his face into the socks.

  The guard screamed.  His last words were, "Why couldn't we use clean socks?!"  Then he was gone. 

  Ed used the body as a bridge to escape the cell. 

  He was free again... the meanest mercenary in the known multiverse. 

  "Hmmm... What to do now..." He looked around and glanced to the ceiling.  Searched around the floor and through the desk.  

  "Hmm...  Nope, no Slinky." 

  "So," Amber asked, "Where to now?"

  "I vote for the main entrance," said Roger.  "It's the only place I know how to get around from.  Sorta."

  "What do you mean I get around?" screamed Lickin' Linda looking square at Lawrence the arabian.

  "Well, you just seem to have been everywhere..."

  "Well, okay then."  Linda still didn't seem convinced. 

  "And you've known so many neat people..."

  "Whaddaya mean, known?!" 

  "Not biblical, I swear, not biblical!" 

  "Heathen!" screamed Reverend Rhombus. 

  "I'm sorry Reverend, but this choking thing is starting to smother me a bit."

  "Those who cannot suffer for the Lord do not deserve life!"  Rhombus snatched up Nick's noose and gave forth a great tug. 

  In a squeekier voice than normal, Nick uttered, "This is ruining my chances at an acting career,"  then he keeled over.

  "You're not likely to become a baritone, either, Kimo Sabe."

  "Yeah, yeah, everyone's a critic," said Roger.  "But at least I don't keep bouncing around like some goddamn network correspondent." 

  "But I don't correspond, Kimo Sabe.  I mismatch, and I don't keep in touch." 

  "Thank God for small mercies," said Amber. 

  "Please!" screamed Achmed, "have mercy!!" 

  "I'm sorry," said Skippy, "but I gotta sit somewhere."  He sat down on the subway. 

  Achmed keeled over, dead. 

  "He's dead, Tim!" 

  "What, are you back," asked Captain Poopdeck. 

  One of the Bored turned to his companions.  "Jeeze, this is real bad.  Now they can't even keep the different series separated." 

  "Ya gotta keep'em separated!" rapped Music Man.  Raquel slugged him. 

  Poopdeck's miscommunicator tweeted like a lark. Smacking his chest, nothing happened... He smacked again... and again.

  "Ahhh... Sir?"

  The miscommunicator tweeted again - this time like a canary.

  "What is it Ensignia Brown?" thrusted Poopdeck.

  The miscommunicator tweeted like an Australian Great Awk. 

  "Ahhh... It's on the left side of your chest sir..."

  "Oh,  thank you ensignia.  That will be all."

  "Man this show's gone down hill," said a Bored Gen Xer.

  "How could you tell?" 

  The miscommunicator screeched like a Macaw.

  Captain Poopdeck slapped the miscommunicator, "Poopdeck Responding!"

  ~Oh... I was calling the Captain...~

  "This IS Captain Poopdeck!!!"

  ~Sorry Captain - we should really rename that deck... This is Doctor Heavenly Brushtroke~

  "Yes, Heavenly, I know who you are."

  ~I have something interesting to report about those X-Rays on Ed.~

  "Interesting?" asked a Bored.  "Puhl-eeeze!" 

  "Go on Heavenly... Just ignore the Bored."

  The Gen Xer sat up.  "Y'know, it's apathetic people like you that make this crud the way it is." 

  Poopdeck looked at him.  "Yeah, whatever."

  ~It turns out he's not human~

  "Not human, Heavenly?" gasped Poopdeck

  ~No I am human - Ed isn't.~

  "Yes, I understand.  What is he then?.."

  ~Based on my best assumptions, he seems to be a conglomeration of about 3687 weaponry parts, 487 types of explosives and approximately 97 types of munitions.~

  "Anything else?"

  ~Oh yes!  I almost forgot.  He's escaped.~

  "Shit. Poopdeck out!"

  The Bored perked up.  "Hey, he swore!" 

  Poopdeck turned to Mr Woof.  "Why was I not informed earlier?" 

  "I don't know... Did you have an obsession with ignorance?" 

  "I meant..!  Never mind!  Back to your post!" 

  Woof shrugged and left to find a lamp post.

  "Hey, what's this lamp post doing here?" asked Bob the Quantum Mechanic. 

  "I dunno," said Niels, "throw it there with the rest of the junk." 

  Bob shrugged and tossed the lamp post over with the Ark of the Covenant and Jimmy Hoffa's body. 

  "Hmmm.... Where is it already?" 

  "Is what?" 

  The Dark One rolled his eyes, although no one in the room could tell.  "I left the Gem of Karnath on Mars, but it seems to have moved." 

  "You lost the GEM OF KARNATH?!  You EEdiot!" 

  "Don't call me that."

  "Well, you are a snivelling brat!"

  "That doesn't mean you have to call me that."  replied Nameless Jr.

  "Okay, it's not mandatory.  What's your point?" 

  "Five Billion eight hundred and seven to three.  What's yours?" asked KDAmery. 

  "Statement preceeding a question - my point!" CWBorysowich replied.

  "Not the score - your point!" screamed the GEM.

  "Must you be that emphatic?" 

  "Yes, why?!" 

  "As I said," Pheonix replied in a tired voice, "I was looking forward to hearing out of both ears for most of my life." 

  A man looked up, tried to focus, and screamed, "My eyeballs are still flickering and man is it hot!" 

  KDAmery looked at the plot.  Yep.  Almost purèed. 

  Two 747 aircraft collide over the Pacific Ocean, splashing down with a thunderous wave that taught a few people in Hawaii how to tread water.  A group of sharks a couple of hundred miles away turned in the direction of the disturbance. 

  "Oh SHIT!  They must be back!" thought the sharks, "Nahhhhh..."

  The sharks turned back to devour what was left of Amelia Airhead.

  Killjoy glared.  "Do ya feel lucky?  Well, do ya, trunk?" 

  The steamer didn't have much to say.  It still wouldn't close with his Barry Manilow collection, though. 

  "I tolja you'd have to leave out the Teddy Bear numnuttz,"  snickered Karl.

  "This from a man who thinks the best way to pack for a trip is press and fold." 

  "That's only when I hafta pack my muddah."

  Wendle was in shock.  He was in Nebraska. 

  "Where the heck am I?"

  Two brothers who were fondling the pigs looked up and saw Wendle.

  "Man, Zeke, they got some nice pigs here in Key West!"

  "Well, I'll say, Billy Bob Boone."

  Zeke, with a sudden turn on, unzipped and ingratiated the pig.

  Free your smelt.  It's the right thing to do, and a hasty way to chew it. 

  Man, doesn't the Plot have a cool soundtrack? 

  Madness is mandatory - in 37 of 50 states.

  Okay, but ya gotta admit, it's got a great sandtrap. 

  Nuttiness is necessary - although the timing is optional. 

  If nothing else, it's a nice handslap.

  Craziness is casual - Please dress appropriately

  For breakfast, I'd recommend the flapjacks. 

  Dementia is deplorable, but only in laboratory ceolocanths. 

  This day is gonna be for the crapstacks.

  Insanity is insatiable - You just can't get enough!

  In other news, pay now, buy later.  You have nothing to lose but your remains.  Workers of the world, clench tight!  Big business is cumming. 

  Flooding strikes Wallstreet!

  Flooding goes on strike, demands fewer repairs to levees and dams. 

  Works Department officials not giving floods any breaks.

  Have you hugged a hurricane today? 

  Make sure your microwave is not at large - or too large.

  Send money now!  Only you can relieve the stress on poor, overworked parachutes!  How would you like to have to support everyone you meet?  Not to mention that they're all trying to jump out of planes.  Is it any wonder these poor things are so frazzled?  Would you use a frazzled `chute?  I thought not.  Send money now, and perhaps some of these parachutes can get the counselling they need. 

  "So tell me about your tailor..." 

  Cash donations to help your government reduce spending will be graciously accepted.

  Pledge now to aid the sufferers of donor fatigue! 

  Cash donations to help your government reduce spending will be graciously forwarded to your neighbours.

  Pledge now to aid the sufferers of door owner fatigue! 

  Doors Slammed for  lacking ease of use.

  Bodies slammed for lacking ease of use....  Well, alright, I made that one up. 

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  Hi, Chucky Manson here, proprietor of KKKMart, where our prices are going Helter Skelter in response to my good friend's birthday - Martin Luther King Jr!  We're hacking and slashing prices all over the store!  We’re Burning up our costs!  This is the brightest white sale ever!  We're even crossing out the stickers! 

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  Choose for Choice!  Open Options is a program that allows you to do whatever the hell you feel like!  Hell, you don't even have to pay us! 

  Ed hit Poopdeck.

  "Phew!  No wonder they call this the poopdeck... Yikes this place stinks!"

  "Oh, wow, some guy just hit Poopdeck and knocked him silly!  [Yawn]." 

  Ed turned to the Bored.  "My is that a load of ennui." 

  "Usedta be, but I can't be bothered to maintain it." 

  "Uh huh.  You be bothered to do... anything?" 

  "Nah.  Done it all already." 

  "Sure." 

  "C'mon, man," said another Gen Xer, "let's find something interesting to do." 

  "Like what?" 

  "Well... we could go for a drink." 

  "[Yawn]." 

  "Hey!" said Ed.  "I know just the place!" 

  "Dahh, We've probably been there already.  We've been fuckin everywhere, man.  Nothing exciting. Nada.  I might as well sleep for thirty years and hope like hell."

  "Oh really?  Well, there's this drink there that foams, chuckles, and keeps a constant temperature of 271degrees.  And that's just the water." 

  The Bored turned around.  "Really?" 

  With their curiosity now piqued, all of the Bored fizzled back to their ships and zoomed to the earthbound pleasures of "My Daddy's Dead Bar and Rope Factory" at the Burning Sands Hotel.

  "Thanks Ed," splurted Captain Poopdeck regaining his wind and his senses.

  "Ahh, they'll be back soon enough. My Daddy's Dead Bar and Toxin Refinery will probably only keep them interested for a millionth of a picosecond."

  "Still, they're not scheduled back for another three episodes." 

  "Great," asked Amber.  "You mean I have to wait three weeks to get my car back?" 

  "Looks that way," said Roger. 

  "This collapsing of your house is confusing, Kimo Sabe." 

  "Yeah, so's your shirt.  What's yer point?" 

  "The shirt is a relic from my forefathers..."

  "Wow, you had four fathers!" blinked Amber.

  Moon Runner paused, then said, "Yes, but then the acid wore off.  Anyway, hadn't we best find the others?" 

  "You mean there are OTHERS??!!" 

  "Of course," said Voice.  "There's the JEWEL OF ARNESDOR, the STONE OF BYZALIZZ, the ROCK OF RUCKRHAAATTS, and the CRYSTAL OF CORONER"

  "There is?"

  "Oh yes, and much more evil than the GEM."

  "They are?"

  "Close your mouth, you're drooling."

  The lights shorted out again. 

  "Shit!" thundered Dark One.

  "Do I have to?" asked George Washington.  "I finally got this deck cleaned." 

  "The Deck.... Hit the Deck.... Hit the Poopdeck!"

                Two Miami Dolphins Nose Tackles rushed in from the Supercharged-Nitro Lifters and took Poopdeck to the floor, knocking the wind and senses out of him again.