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. 

  Yes Sir!  You too could be here today and gone tomorrow.  Come on down to one of our showrooms where we'll test a really big laser beam on a portion of your skull.  Don't be afraid now.  None of those stories about overpower and out of control mirrors are true.  Our techniques have been practically perfected!  Don't delay! We cure smoking - Obesity - Bad Attitudes - Hair Loss - Hair Gain - Blindness - Heart Defects - Aging - Most Terminal & Chronic Diseases.  So come on down for your free sample, or call us at 1-800-2VAPOUR.

  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.          

Part LXXXVI - Ms. Petunia Vickers is Shocked, Stunned, Appalled, and then Promptly Released on an Unsuspecting World.

Still glossy eyed, she couldn't believe the things she had seen and now... where was she?

It was a beautiful summer day, or would have been, had there been any vegetation visible anywhere. Even some mould would have cheered things up, a little. Just a little, mind. Ms. Vickers was not what one might call a fungus fan.

Beyond the lack of vegetation, there was a complete void of water or any fluid as far as the eye could see. Not even a comforting mirage.

There was, however, a pretty snazzy radio sitting on a rock nearby.

"Hmmmm, let's see what's playing." She reached for the power button.

Forty billion volts coursed through her body, and Ms. Vickers discovered two things: there was a short in the radio, and this world, wherever it was, used a positively ridiculous amount of current.

The blast sent her flying back into a pile of dirt. She lay there, stunned, feeling parts of her body float away on the breeze. It wasn't nearly as unpleasant as she had expected, all things considered.

A few more lightning bolts from the radio and a station kicked in. A band, in some parts of the galaxy known as GWAR, but in this part of universe was really known as GAWR. "Filthy Flow" wafted out of the giga-watt mono speaker - a little light on bass - and the lyrics appalled Ms. Vickers. "I am dirt/ And dirt is me/ Never felt so goddamn filthy."

"My God, what atrocious manners!" she exclaimed, climbing up from the ground. She brushed herself off. "Dear God, look at me!"

KDAmery turned to CWBorysowich. "Do you hear someone calling us?"

"Keep quiet, maybe they'll go away."

Ms. Vickers was covered in ashes - which used to be her clothes - and dirt - which used to be who knows what. Had she been able to take the whole scene in, she would have noted that her hair was standing up like a porcupine's quills, and that her skin looked like an overdone hotdog, but someone was merciful enough not to leave a mirror lying around.

CWBorysowich turned to KDAmery. "When did we become merciful?"

"Did we do that? Geeze, must be slipping... I know, when they come asking, we'll plead negligence."

"I don't know... He helped us out of that kiddie porn thing in Ohio..."

"Not with negligence... ah, skip it."

"Sorry... I don't skip... I don't dance... I don't go near people who do..."

KDAmery looked at his partner. "Fine. Git outta here."

The sun faded as what Petunia hoped were clouds drifted in. She looked down at the parched land and cracks all around her. The clouds soon consumed the entire sky. A drop hit her cheek and as the rain came down, all of the cracks became little mouths opening for a drink from the sky. Suddenly, a great deluge fell upon the earth... or wherever... and the ground greedily sucked it in, quenching the thirst of all the cute little seeds some moron had left lying there.

Then the water hit the short circuit.

The entire electrical supply of the planet discharged into the ground, supercharging the growth cycle of the plants. Grass, flowers, shrubs, and trees erupted from the ground like one of those bad lawn mower commercials.

In the midst of it all sat Ms. Vickers.

"Well, I daresay that is an improvement."

A tree looked at her. "Jesus Christ! Nobody warned me about... that!"

As all of the high strung vegetation focused their shock on the vision of Ms. Petunia Vickers, they all promptly died and became a brown smelly rotting heap. Ms. Vickers then vanished from the planet. And if it wasn't for that episode, and had Petunia been swept away just a moment sooner, there could have been another planet hurtling toward catastrophe much like ours.

Part LXXXV - To Reluctantly Go Where No Authors Have Gone Before

"Well," said KDAmery. "Should we go in there?"

"Yeah right! You go in first and if no body parts are thrown out I'll follow you."

"Hey, relax, I've got my remote."

"Yeah I've got my remote too, but don't forget that this house separated from the universe without us touching the remotes."

"Goddamnit, did you have to remind me?! Jeeze, wants me to go first then gives me the Willies..."

"O.K. here's the deal: we both open the door and stand back - once we have an idea of what's inside, then we'll go in."

"This sounds disturbingly like Wolf or Doom™."

"Hey if it barks we run - if it kills us then it won't matter."

"Okay. One suggestion... that career in counselling? I'd skip it."

"Well, that’s the end of the session - here's my bill for $587 and 32 cents. Have a nice day and try to remember not to focus on your financial troubles..."

"Great. I'm going into a novel We're writing that's gone haywire and he's got delusions of usefulness."

"It's not a delusion - I'm acting."

"At least Keanu Reeves won't be unemployed..."

"So, are we going to open this door or what? Of course we could just leave it for some other author that dares to enter it."

"Sadist. Who could handle this thing?"

"Masochist! Why should we have to?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot I was dealing with the centre of the universe."

"Alright, let's get it over with - it'll probably be nothing but a couple of old sweat socks and a basketball from the 1964 Knicks games."

"Do you know something I don't?"

"Probably, but I wasn't going to go through the checklist now."

"Wonderful, he's keeping secrets again. Oh well, here goes." KDAmery opened the door and pointed his remote.

Rob Smith was standing in the doorway.

"Oh myself KDA - He's wearing an old Don Johnson suit..."

"Y'know, this could be kinda fun..."

"Oh shit," said Rob.

Part LXXXIV - The Case of The Back From The Dead And Gone Again Lieutenant

"Georgie, are the twist engines recurled yet?"

~No, Captain,~ came the disembodied reply. ~We seem to have a super-space reinforcement wave surrounding the engines keeping them from recurling.~

"Meaning..."

~We're going to have straight engines for a while yet.~

"Wonderful," said Captain Poopdeck. "Even in space we get homophobia. Where is Commander Biker?"

"Checking for where-when anomalies in the crew's quarters with Counsellor Boy-Toy," said Mister Woof.

"As I was saying..."

"Sir! There's a Twist-Yard distortion off the port bow!" screamed Lieutenant Traptin Tar.

"On window. Wait a minute! You're dead!"

Lieutenant Tar's face froze. She frantically grabbed her wrist. "You're right! I can't find a pulse!" She keeled over.

Boner ran over to her. "She's dead, Tim!"

Captain Poopdeck smacked him. "You twit, you're not in Star Trip the Tenth Iteration! And zip up your pants."

"Oops, sorry, got off on the wrong set." Boner stepped into the Super-Charged Lifter and was lifted away at super speed.

Poopdeck punched his chest miscommunicator. "Ouch! Doctor Brushstroke, Lieutenant Tar is dead!"

~Captain, you have to learn to let go...~

"No, I mean she's dead here, on the overpass."

~What!?~

"I was hoping you could explain it to me."

~I'm on my way.~

"Make it just like that."

Ensign Rowboat at the tiller turned to Barry, who was sitting beside her at the Shops Terminal, and asked, "I thought it was Commander Biker who got trapped in tar?"

"What, did his Harley spring a leak again?! Oh my, Georgie is not going to be pleased about that! No sir!"

"Don't call me `Sir,' Sir, you out rank me."

"I'm sorry, but I've just been overcome by the repetitiveness of it all."

"Again?"

"Captain!" barked Mister Woof, "The disturbance Lieutenant Tar noticed has gained in strength by three million percent!"

"On window!"

Off the port bow a twisting of the where-when fabric (which was corduroy at that particular location) could be seen by all with eyes in their heads and a working visual cortex. The twisting increased until a square-rigged ship emerged.

"Dear God!" exclaimed Barry. "It's the Bored!"

"Wonderful," said Poopdeck. "I've already heard the phrase, `yeah, whatever,' enough to last me twenty lifetimes."

PART LXXXIII - Granite Dust Ain't No Deli Sandwich

Lickin' Linda Lovelace was attacked by Exhaustion.

"Lawrence, Lawrence, get this madman off me!"

Lawrence rolled his eyes individually down an alley and kicked the interloper's brains out. They ended up in the delicatessen mentioned last part. Not to be anti-semitic, of course; just disgusting. Thought you'd like to know. But we digress, eh?

"Sandwich?" offered Linda.

"No - sand in my eye."

"You picked a fine alley to roll them in with all the garbage back there. I can't believe the wasted food in these places."

"BELIEVE!!!" screamed Jerry Rhombus from an overhead television. "You too can be one of the chosen millions to be raped and pillaged by our ministry. Remember that our God is publicly funded and can't exist without out your generous financial and rhetorical support."

[ELLIPSIS'S INSERTION: THAT GOD IS PUBLIC DOMAIN.]

"God, somebody change the damn Chanel," said Linda, "My nostrils are killing me."

"ATCHOOOOOO" sneezed Lawrence.

"BLESS YOU!! My children of the future will be the most prosperous in our mutually beneficial afterlife..."

"Change the fucking channel!" Screamed a man at the back of the deli as a tomato and bacon sandwich hit the monitor.

The sandwich dropped on Lawrence's head and the channel changed.

"Ohhhhh Ambra... Mmmmm yeah baby"

"My god Linda they have cable."

Linda and Lawrence glanced at the group of children sitting cross-legged on the floor with their eyes glued to the screen.

"UH... UH... Do you like taking me that way John?"

"Ohhh YES Ambra YES!"

"Fine," cut in a man in a suit," will that be SX, DX, or clock doubled?"

"Fuckin' commercials," said an anonymous man in the back.

"Is there anything out there that can make a good story these days?!?"

The New Messiah shook his head. Nothing came out. `I know who can,' he thought, `but they won't help me. They keep writing this stupid plot.'

CWBorysowich looked at his partner and asked, "I did?"

"Did what?"

"Looked at you?"

"When?"

"Before."

"Statement, my point."

"Got a life?" asked CWB.

"What kind?"

"Recently?"

"How recent?"

"In the wake of your ancestors or have you still got that conscience?"

"Nonsense,"said KDA," point to me. My serve: where's the Old Messiah?"

"Isn't he at your place?"

"When did he go there?"

"Didn't you take him?"

"Did somebody tell you that?"

"That you took him like Ambra?"

"Who?"

"You don't know Ambra?"

"Should I?"

"Do you have her number?"

"On me?"

"What's on you?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Didn't you mention it?"

"Wasn't that in passing?"

"What did you pass?"

"Do you know someone who's interested?"

"Should somebody be?"

"Shouldn't that be the principal of the thing?"

"When did you get principals?"

"What, did I leave a school lying around?"

"Lie in school often?"

"How would they notice?"

"Did you post a notice to tell them?"

"Would they have read it?"

"Can they even read?"

"Can they read cans?"

"You were going to post a can?"

"Would Canada Post take a can?"

"Do you have a can they want?"

"Do they have to go?"

"Who's leaving?"

"Did a door open?"

"You didn't jam it?"

"What flavour?"

"Are raspberries in season?"

"Are the seasons changing?"

"When will you ever change?"

"When will you ever stabilise?"

"Have you stabilised already?"

"Stabilised what?"

"Can't you stabilize anything?"

"Why are you so critical?"

"Wasn't your father a critic?"

"Wasn't family supposed to be off limits?"

"Your family went out of bounds?"

"Didn't you tie them up right?"

"Don't you have the rope?"

"How often?"

"Are you tired of this?"

"Do you want to give up?"

"With two points already, can't you give up?"

"But is any lead sufficient?"

"Wouldn't you still win?"

"Is winning the point?"

"Are you expecting a point with that stupid question?"

"Derrogatory, match point. Good game."

"You thought so?"

"Are we going to go through all this again?"

"Didn't you already get match point?"

"Then why are you asking more questions?"

"Weren't you asking the questions?"

"Which particular questions?"

"Are you denying the questions?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Are you paranoid?"

"Wouldn't you be?"

"Since this isn't for a point, why should I be?"

"If this is pointless, why are we doing it?"

"You haven't done pointless things before?"

"When?"

"Anytime before?"

"Before time?"

"Do you think it possible?"

"Is anything impossible?"

"Even if everything is possible, is it not pointless?"

"Doesn't that depend on the score?"

"Can we stop if this doesn't affect the score anymore?"

"Do you think we can?"

"Is it a matter of belief?"

"What does Rev. Rhombus say?"

"BELIEVE!!!!"

"That was a great show Rev.!" squeaked Nick the noose.

"IT WAS, WASN'T IT?" bellowed the Reverend.

"Uh, sir, we're off the air."

"OH! Sorry, boys, got carried away."

`Try harder,' thought the observer.

"How much did we raise today boys?"

"8.6 billion dollars, sir." screeched one of the other members of the congregation.

"Ahh, an amount even Sturmgosse would be proud of..."