(NSP: I know it's been a while since I've posted anything, and like "someone" once told me...a stupid post is better than no post at all...so I decided I'd give it a shot. And...this isn't meant to be an excuse for how lame my post will be, but I was out babysitting till 6AM...and now I'm only working on 2 hours of sleep...so I'm exhausted. Anyways..."On With The Show...err...Post!")

(MichaelTW and LosienTW are on their way to the Silicon Valley Airport. They arrive.)

LosienTW: So...why exactly are we going to Seattle?

MichaelTW: I told you...it's

LosienTW: Oh yes...that's where you think TLTE went, right?

MichaelTW: No...it is the pesto of cities.

LosienTW: What?

MichaelTW: Nevermind.

(MichaelTW and LosienTW walk into the airport and up to the counter that clearly states "Airline Tickets Sold Here")

MichaelTW: I think this is the place we buy the tickets.

LosienTW: Really? Hmm..(rolls her eyes) imagine that. Tickets sold where it states "tickets sold here." Wow...what a concept.

(They walk up to the counter...they're helped by a lady named Martha)

Martha: Hello, welcome to Silicon Valley Airport...may I help you?

MichaelTW: Umm yes....2 tickets to Seattle, please.

Martha: Would that be one way...or round-trip?

(MichaelTW looks at LosienTW. LosienTW shrugs her shoulders)

MichaelTW: One way for now. If/when we come back...we'll just get another ticket.

Martha: All right. You just got the last 2 tickets. Although...I'm afraid you and your wife will have to sit in separation.

MichaelTW: Oh well..she's not my...

LosienTW: That'll be fine. (Smiles)

(Martha hands MichaelTW the 2 tickets. MichaelTW hands Losien hers. They walk away.)

LosienTW: So...when do we leave?

MichaelTW: Not until 2:22AM. We still have 4 hours, 19 minutes left.

LosienTW: Well..what are we going to do?

MichaelTW: It's up to you.

LosienTW: Well...I could really use uhh..well, I need to use the restroom.

MichaelTW: Oh...yes..of course.

(MichaelTW and LosienTW walk towards the restroom. LosienTW turns and looks at MichaelTW before walking in.)

LosienTW: You know...it's kind of weird having you wait out here for me...while I'm in the bathroom.

MichaelTW: (Turns around the other way) Oh yes...I'm sorry.

LosienTW: (Begins walking into the bathroom, turing around to make sure MichaelTW isn't looking at her)

(Meanwhile, MichaelTW sits up against the wall. An hour later, LosienTW walks out.)

LosienTW: Now what should we do?

MichaelTW: (Looks at his watch) Well....you just killed a whole hour in the bathroom. We only have 3 hours and 19 minutes left. What were you doing in there anyways?

LosienTW: Oh...nothing. So...what are we going to do?

MichaelTW: Well...since we're already here...I might as well use the restroom also.

LosienTW: Oh...OK.

MichaelTW: It's kind of weird knowing you're out here...waiting for me.

LosienTW: (Turns around) Oh...I'm sorry.

(4 minutes later, MichaelTW walks out.)

LosienTW: Man...that was quick.

MichaelTW: Yes. I used to restroom for it's sole purpose only...and then I was done.

LosienTW: Yeah...well...you guys don't have to wait in line forever.

MichaelTW: Well...that's because guys are quicker and more efficient.

LosienTW: What's that have to do with anything?

MichaelTW: It has a lot to do.

LosienTW: (Walking away) I can't believe we're arguing about this.

MichaelTW: Hey...you started it.

LosienTW: Did not!

MichaelTW: Did too!

LosienTW: Did not!

MichaelTW: Did too!

LosienTW: Did too!

MichaelTW: Did not! I mean...darnit...you got me!

(MichaelTW and LosienTW walk in silence.)

LosienTW: Did you know...you're soo cute when you argue...or...try to argue.

MichaelTW: (jokingly) Shut up!

LosienTW: No...really.

MichaelTW: (looks at his watch) Oh no! Our plane leaves in 3 minutes!

LosienTW: Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go!

(OK...LOL. I didn't know what else to do. Sorry...don't forget, you can delete this...but a lame post, is better than no post!)

*Somewhere in the Himalayan Mountains, a block of ice is struck by a freak lightning blast, and shatters dramatically. A naked man kneels in the space where the ice block used to be, slowly looking up. It is the Original Last True Evil, or OLTE.*

OLTE: I'm back...muhahahahahahahh *snort*

*Ten minutes later, in the "Happy Drunk-Drunk Yeti", a local bar and grill establishment, the door is blown off its hinges. A banner, draped over the grill, indicates the current event; "The 51st Annual Liberalist Denomination of Monks Party Bash". All around the bar, drunken monks turn to the hauntingly unfamiliar sight of a 6'2, blue-eyed, dark black-haired naked man in front of them. The bartender slowly waddles over to him.*

Bartender: Um...stag night is every Thursday-

OLTE: (Deep, booming voice) I NEED YOUR CLOTHES, YOUR BOOTS, AND YOUR...UM...YAK.

Bartender: Now, wait a darn tootin' m-

*OLTE reaches out, and crushes the man's skull with one hand.*

OLTE: I NEED A YAK.

*He strides over to the next man, who hits him with a pool cue.*

OLTE: OUCH. THAT HURT.

*He punches the man, who flies over the pool table, out a window, and through the next five buildings.*

OLTE: I THINK HE DISLODGED A TOOTH.

*A massive, one-way fight ensues. Eventually, OLTE is the last man standing. He stalks over to a nearby monk, who has been impaled on a bar-stool.*

OLTE: HAND OVER THE, UM...KEYS...TO YOUR YAK.

*The man groans, and tosses them to OLTE.*

Man: Now go!

OLTE: GLADLY. AS SOON AS I HAVE RELIEVED YOU OF YOUR CLOTHES.

*OLTE steps outside the bar in a toga, not exactly the effect he was hoping for.*

OLTE: I MUST GET TO SIBERIA, AND ACTIVATE THE BEACON! ALL THE LTE'S OF THE WORLD MUST UNITE! (and hopefully, along the way, I can get some new clothes...)

*OLTE mounts his yak and guns the engine.*

OLTE: THE WORLD IS MINE! ALL MINE! WAHHH HA HA HA HA HAAAAHHHH...

*He speeds off into the snowy night...*

**The next day, a little man wandered about playing his deadly bagpipes and killed a squirrel. The squirrel was young and weak, and its mother was mad! She was a giant 137 foot squirrel!!! The mother was angered and chased the little man until he came to a hole in the ground. He jumped in the hole and landed in a temple with spiders and giant idols and traps on the floor. He looked around and saw 2 giant snakes in a glass box. He played his bagpipes. Their just happened to be a Starbucks in the temple and he went inside and bought darth vader a grande latte. Vader danced like a shaman with marakas in his hands and sang about his favorite croutons. They danced and drank coffe until they died, then they came back to life.**

------------------
The Soft Parade has now begun
Listen to the engines hum
People out to have some fun
A cobra on my left
Leopard on my right

(NSP: Uh, riiiight, Mr. Softparade. Anywhos...)

In the heroes realm...

Krig: Krig not like music...

Geb: Why are we back at the House of Gibs, named after me no less?

Cooked: Because you finished your SP entree, monsiour. Would you care for a bit of dessert?

Geb: Uh...no thanks--hey! It's the rest of the gang, over at the table over there. Looks like Losien and the new guy are there too.

Krig: Me not like TLTE. He smells.

Geb: He's foreign, what can you say?

Krig: Er...not what Krig meant. Geb need bath himself.

Geb: Meh, it'll be on my "to do" list. I need to create the perfect woman first to shower with me...er...and we need to figure out where to go to next.

Five hours later, at the same table...

Otter: ...but we already went to Disney World!

Krig: Krig not like that place.

Geb: OK ok, we won't go there. Er...how about a strip club?

Maybe: That's the tenth time you're suggested that Geb.

Geb: Aaaand?

Maybe: NO!

Geb: OK, sheesh. And I thought everyone appreciated the beauty of the female body...

McLongname: How about we just hitchhike and go whereever?

Ante: Well that isn't very exciting...

Geb: But it's easy! Good thinking Mick.

Sem: So how are we going to find a ride for all of us?

Los: *from outside* I got a ride for us all! The guy won't stop looking at my leg though...

Geb: Let's go. You too, Cooked.

Cooked: Do I have to?

Janitor Bob: Well I'm not going to clean and cook around here!

Cooked: *sigh*

The heroes get on a giant bus labeled "Nesian youth group" on it.

Where will our heroes find themselves next? Will this wave of Nesianity never cease? What denomination of Nesianity are the people on the bus? Does the bus have enough gas? Will Geb shower anytime soon, or will he wait for an eternity trying to find the "perfect woman" to go in with him? Find out, in the next edition of The Neverending Story Thread!

------------------
~Geb

(NSP: eh, I think that last post, Soft Parade, is a little too crazy and off topic, even for the Never Ending Story )

*In the City shrouded by a cloak of Never-Ending Rain, Mike and Losien’s the writers tour of Seattle ends, them having of visited the Space Needle, the Science Center, the Zoo, the Taxpayer funded multi-gajabillion dollar Mariners Stadium, the Mall (despite the many protests of Michael the Writer), Walla-Walla (after Michael got lost) and the water-front. After a candlelight dinner of Fish ‘n Chips, Michael and Losien finally arrive back at the airport*
-------------

* Same time, same place, TLTETW skulks around the airport, finally reacquiring his luggage. Dodging the scanning eyes of Mike and Losien, TLTETW is cleverly disguised. (As The Last True Evil Not the Writer) With all assets in place, TLTETW

Losien the Writer: Well, we have scoured all over Seattle and we still haven’t seen a sign of The Last True Evil the Writer. Remind me why you think he's in Seattle again...

Michael the Writer: Intuition.

Losien the Writer (skeptically): Intuition???

Micheal the Writer: Yes... I sometimes get these feelings... almost extraterrestrial emotional nudges... I can see things before they happen...

Losien the Writer: Nice... That must be usual for playing the Stock Market...

*The Last True Evil the Writer walks past*

Michael the Writer: See! Right there. I felt a mental shiver... the room seemed to get colder for some reason...

Losien the Writer (sarcastically): SURE... right.

Micheal the Writer: Well, I just knew... in the pit of my Stomach that I was to go to Seattle.

Losien the Writer: So basically, you were hungry for some Fish 'n Chips.

Michael the Writer: Exactly!

Losien the Writer: Well... your intution seems to have a few sprockets loose... We still haven't found the Last True Evil.

*After a long argument, involving yelling, screaming, and a little bit of kicking, the writers buy a ticket back to Silicon Valley*

Mike the Writer (From the floor): Gah... Losien. You kick hard.

Losien the writer: Well... I try. Anyways... this ticket says that our flight is found in Building 6, 8th floor, Concourse B, Hall 23, Conduit 27, Gate 5... I think. The writing's kinda hard to read...

Martha the Airport Employee: Look, the pen was dry. Give me a break.

Mike the Writer: Hmm... I have a map I got from somebody, but it seems to be written in Russian.
-------------

*** 6 hours later ***

*TLTETW arrives at his boarding flight for Communist Soviet Russian Secret Intelligence Airlines, headed towards Siberia.*

Airline Personell: Will you please put all guns, knives, bombs, and nuclear devices in this tray here, before you pass through the metal detector.

*TLTETW, being a Secret Agent Kinda Dude, of course, does not listent to the airline employees. He throws his Klobb in a nearby garbage can, as a statement about it's lack of accuracy. To complete his secret agent persona, TLTETW always carries around a large heavy AK-47, that can be disassembeled and disguised as a large, heavy, pencil sharpener (that actually works!) Carrying this disguised weapon in his suitcase, TLTETW steps through the Discerning Beams of the metal detector*

Metal Detector: BWOOP BWOOP BWOOP!

Airline Personell: You forgot to put you keys in the tray, ma'am.

TLTETW (after recovering from imense shock): Y-yes. Heh. Of course.
------------

*Just behind TLTETW, walks Mike and Losien the Writers, through the same metal detector*

Losien the Writer: Are you SURE this is the right flight.

Mike the Writer: *sigh* Yes, honey.

Losien the Writer: But our flight was flight 999... while this flight is flight 666...

Mike the Writer: It's close enough.

Losien the Writer: But aren't we flying on Northwest, instead of Communist Soviet Russian Secret Intelligence Airlines?

Mike the Writer: Well, maybe it's a branch-of of the original Northwest company.

Losien the Writer: Also... I think we made a wrong turn back at the airport Enchilada stand...

*INSERT MANDATORY MEN-DON'T-ASK-FOR-DIRECTIONS JOKE HERE*

*After setting off the metal detector by Micheal's paper clip collection, the writer's board the plane, which is old, rickety, rusty, and appears to be made out of old Combine parts.*

*There are only two seats that are left available. Losien is forced to sit next to a big hairy sweating guy with flies swarming around his tobbaco caked beard named Hank (The person's named Hank, not the beard)*

*Michael sits next to one TLTETW, who now has a different disguise on*

Michael the Writer: Hey, you kinda look like The Last True Evil the Writer... except he doesn't wear a Lone Ranger mask.

TLTETW (In an emotionless voice): What an eerie coincidence

*Suddenly, their conversation is inturrepted by a screech of the Airline intercom*

Female Intercom Voice: I would give a speech on how to put on your oxygen mask, ect, but this airline doesn't seem to have the luxury of such safety equipment. So instead, I will introduce our newly aquired pilot... illustrious author and singer... Krig Vykeen!

Losien the Writer: Uh-oh.

Krig the Writer: Krig need money. Krig pilot.

Airline Intercom: Your seats cannot unlock, so you won't need to worry about them being in the upright and locked position. Enjoy your trip with Communist Soviet Russian Secret Intelligence Airlines.

Krig the Writer: Hmm. What this button do?

*The plane taxi's percariously but speedily on (and sometimes off) the runway, overruning a luggage cart and then somehow manages to take off... headed straight for the heart of Siberia.*

------------------
May the Windex be with you
-Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)

*In the Heroes realm*

Janitor Bob the Hero: I've got an Idea! How about we go to Siberia and save the world from a Russian plot involving clones, with our powers of implausibility!

*Everybody rolls their eyes*

The other writers: How about not.

*The Writers get onto the the old yellow bus... which blinking destination lights above the front window reads: Siberia to save the world from a Russian plot involving clones, with powers of implausibility, and to convert the godless communist heathens, to boot*


------------------
May the Windex be with you
-Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)

*On the plane*

Losien: (Plugging her nose staring disgustedly at Hank...whispers to herself) How can anyone be so...so...inhumane?

Hank: You chew? (Grabbing some "already-chewed-tobacco" from his long, tobacco-caked beard - not named Hank.)

Losien: No...no thank you.

Hank: (shrugs his shoulders) Hmmph.. (sticking the "already-chewed-tobacco" in his mouth)

(Losien sits thinking to herself why she always ends up being next to gross smelly guys. Just her luck. She picks out a magazine from the pocket on the back of the seat in front of her.)

Losien: How to Tie-Bow? This ought to be good. (She begins reading) Oh my gosh. This is hilarious. I'll have to subscribe to this magazine.

(Hank leans over to Losien to see what she's talking about)

Hank: woH ot ?woB-eiT

Losien: What?

Hank: Oh...I never really learned how to read.

Losien: I see. Well, that's a problem.

Hank: Well...I figure, it gives me a sense of uniqueness.

Losien: Although...a lot of people don't know how to read.

Hank: Well...I'm more betterer than them.

Losien: You...have problems...and not knowing how to read is the least of them. (Again, plugging her nose)

(Hank falls asleep. The flight attendant walks by with the drink cart - her name is also Martha)

Martha the flight attendant: May I get you guys something to drink?

Losien: Yes, an orange juice please.

Martha: Alright. And...for your husband?

Losien: Oh...we're not together. But..

Martha: Oh! You guys are on your way to get married?! How sweet!

Losien: No..that's not it...you see...I don't even know. (being cut off again)

Martha: He's surprising you about where you're getting married? And to think I thought he was just some slob. You guys will make the perfect couple. I see a great future for you.

Losien: You don't understand. I don't even know..

Martha: You don't even know who's going to be there? That's so sweet. I'll go get you some wine to celebrate this special day.

Losien: (sighs) What is life coming to?

Hank: (yawns...letting out the gross stench of his breath) Did the lady come by for drinks yet?

Losien: Yes.

Hank: Did you get me anything?

Losien: No...(reaches into her purse) but here's a breath mint.

Hank: (Not realizing the point she was trying to make) How nice of you.

Losien: Sure.

(Martha returns with the wine)

Martha: Here you are. You guys are going to be so happy together.

Hank: What?

Martha: I love the idea of you surprising her like this...and now you're acting all innocent yourself. Like you don't know what's going on either.

Hank: I don't.

Martha: Oh...Miss...you are so lucky.

Losien: You know...if you think I'm so lucky...how would you like to marry this..ehh..this "hunk"?

Martha: Oh, don't be silly. Well..I have to go deliver the other passengers their drinks. Congratulations.

Losien: (under her breath) I wasn't being silly. I was being serious.

Hank: Did we win something?

Losien: No.

Hank: Well, then what was that lady happy about?

Losien: (sarcastically) The airlines decided to put a fly trap in every row of seats on the airplanes.

Hank: Eww...do you know how gross those things smell?

Losien: Trust me. After today...nothing will ever smell worse.

(NSP: I don't know what else to write. Umm...I won't be able to post for at least 2 days. My grandparents anniversary is tomorrow...and we're going out..and doing "stuff" - and...I shouldn't have to explain why I won't be posting...but I am. So..yes...that's what I'll be doing...oh yeah, and sorry for all my typos and everything. I'm too lazy to fix it.)

[This message has been edited by Losien (edited July 27, 2001).]

(OOC: "Hey, you kinda look like The Last True Evil the Writer... except he doesn't wear a Lone Ranger mask." ROFL!! )

*In the cockpit of Communist Soviet Russian Secret Intelligence Airlines flight #666, Krig the Writer sits on the floor beside the pilot's seat. The stewardesses have locked him in the cockpit, because he kept trying to leave the airplane. The plane is flying on autopilot.*

Krig the Writer:"Krig hungry now."

*Krig the Writer gets up and begins gnawing on the flight control stick. The plane begins flying vertically straight down. Krig the Writer does not notice.*

Krig the Writer:"Grrrr.... Hungry...."

*Suddenly, the airplane's onboard computer (which is an ancient 1973 model, and so large it takes up the entire luggage compartment. Actual luggage is stored in the fuel tank, where it is burned as fuel.) The plane's onboard computer beeps a warning.*

Computer:"Warning. Airplane is crashing now. Warning. Airplane is crashing now."

Krig the Writer:"AAAGGGHH!! WHO SAY THAT?!"

Computer:"Warning. Airplane is crashing now."

Krig the Writer:"AAAHHH! KRIG SMASH DEMON AIRPLANE!"

*Krig the Writer, lacking an axe (since only Krig the Hero has an axe), begins punching and gnawing on the control panels. The control panels begin to get destroyed, and loose wires begin sparking.*

*Meanwhile, in the cabin, no one seems to be distressed that the airplane is going straight downwards. This is not because they have not noticed the aircraft's rapid descent, but rather because this is a common occurance on Communist Soviet Russian Secret Intelligence Airlines.*

*Hank has fallen asleep once more. Chewing tobbaco mixed with bubble gum drools out of his open mouth, into his sticky beard (which is not named Hank). Losien sits quietly, trying not to wake Hank. The guy in the seat ahead of Losien, a skinny fellow wearing a white fisherman's hat, turns around.*

Guy Ahead of Losien the Writer:"Hi, miss, what's your name?"

Losien the Writer:"Um, I'm Losien, what's your name?"

*In the background, a muffled zapping noise is heard, then a muffled explosion. The cockpit door goes flying upwards (since the plane is vertical) past Losien the Writer, towards the back of the plane.*

Guy Ahead of Losien the Writer:"Oh, I'm Gilligan. Pleased to meet you!"

*A short, fried looking Viking Writer flies upwards past Losien, after the door, yelling like a crazed mongoose. A huge ball of flame spouts behind him. None of the passengers notice, as this is an ordinary occurance on Communist Soviet Russian Secret Intelligence Airlines.*

Losien the Writer:"So, um, where are you headed?"

Gilligan:"I'm headed to Winnepeg. Gee, I sure hope this plane doesn't crash. I was on a boat once, and we crashed, and I spent a few years on a deserted island with the Skipper and some other people. I don't think they liked me. It was fun, but I sure hope it doesn't happen again."

Losien the Writer:"Oh."

*Across the aisle, McLongname the Writer sits beside TLTETW, who is still wearing his disguise.*

McLongname the Writer:"Hey, are we supposed to be flying straight downwards?"

TLTETW:"Don't worry, this happens all the time."

*McLongname the Writer peers closer at TLTETW.*

McLongname the Writer:"You seem familiar, somehow... Have we met?"

TLTETW:"Um... No, I don't think so."

*The short, fried looking Viking Writer figure, overcome by gravity, plummets back down towards the cockpit, followed by the door to the cockpit.*

McLongname the Writer:"I'd swear I've seen you somewhere before... Have you ever worked at McDonald's?"

*Down by the cockpit, there is a thump of a short, hairy body landing on a windshield, followed by the clang of a cockpit door hitting a short, hairy body.*

TLTETW:"No, I have never worked at a McDonald's. Only Burger King. You've never seen me before."

McLongname the Writer:"I dunno, you look--hey, wait! It's YOU!"

*The Last True Evil The Writer's eyes widen slightly behind his mask. He reaches inside his coat for his gun. Behind him, outside of the window, a duck is sucked into the intake of the airplane's engine, spewing feathers everywhere.*

TLTETW:"I don't know what you're talking about."

McLongname the Writer:"It's you! The real Lone Ranger! Wow, I never thought I'd meet the real Lone Ranger!"

TLTETW(having never heard of the Lone Ranger before in his life, because of watching only Russian TV):"Er.... Yes.... The Lone Ranger..."

*Suddenly, the airplane crashes into the ocean. The cabin's passengers are noticably calm, as this sort of thing happens all the time on Communist Soviet Russian Secret Intelligence Airlines.*

Whatever will happen to the planeload of writers? Will they perish? Or will they be stranded on a convieniently located deserted island with that Gilligan fellow, forever doomed to be tormented by the clumsy antics of a funny-hat-wearing buffoon? Donate $20 to the NES storywriter's fund to find out!

------------------
Read the Bible, it'll scare the hell out of you.

[This message has been edited by Krig_the_Viking (edited July 28, 2001).]

(Great post Krig! :-) I wish I could continue on...but I have to leave in a short while - so I don't have enough time. I can't wait to see what happens next - so that means people should continue the story...)

------------------
**Kim**
Umm.."One Fish, Two Fishes, Red Fish, Blue Dishes" Or something like that...right? I don't really remember...

(Yeah, Krig, that was one of the few posts that actually made me laugh out loud, as opposed to just smiling gleefully)

*Flight #666 casually plummets into the ocean. The more observant passengers begin to notice that something is wrong, although not necessarily unusual. As ocean crashes are a fairly normal occurrence on Communist Soviet Russian Secret Intelligence Airlines (which, as a result, makes Communist Soviet Russian Secret Intelligence Airline frequent flyer miles very valuable) the airline has an exact process that they go through whenever it happens. Without delay, two airline crew members collectively known as Martha climb out on each wing, where she fits large inflatable water wings to them. Then, she is tragically eaten by sharks.*

Gilligan: I thought this was only going to be a three hour plane trip…

*The airline’s computer, which in prime condition didn’t have enough processing power to play ‘Pong’ without jerky framerate, is even more further decimated by the fact that Krig had eaten the Keyboard, and half the CPU. As a result, the computer starts spitting out random warnings and bits of information*

Computer: Syntax Error. Please Correct.

*At the same time, Mclongname the writer, who can’t believe his luck, is talking with ‘The Long Ranger’*

Mike the Writer: So, how’s it going kemosabe

TLTETW: What did you call me!

*Discreetly, TLTETW flips through a Russian-English dictionary, looking for the word kemosabe *

Computer: This program has preformed an illegal operation and will be shut down. If the problem persists please contact the product vendor.

Mike the Writer: You know, kemosabe! Ta Ta dump… ta ta dump… ta ta dump DUMP DUMP!

TLTETW: Ach! You Americans are always so weird.

Computer: Missile warning! Key to target?

*A fiery anger flashes through Mclongname’s eyes, at TLTETW’s last comment…*

Mike the writer: What do you mean, ‘all Americans are weird.’ What a gross generalization! Not all Americans are like the NES writers…

TLTETW: Well, sure, but America does not even compare to the luscious snow topped plains of the Motherland of Russia!

Mike the Writer: I can’t believe you’d have the nerve to say that! Who has the best economy! Who has the best military! Who has the best fast food!

*A rock-and-roll version of the Star Spangled Banner blares through the plane, as Mike the writer angrily picks up TLTETW by the mask. The elastic string on the mask snaps, stinging Mikes hand. TLTETW does a somersault backwards into the aisle. The mask flutters down and lands on the armrest. TLTETW gets up and glares at Mclongname, revealing his unmistakable face of a Last True Evil for all to see.*

Computer: Reinforcements have arrived.

TLTETW: Ach! Enough of my pointless skulking around! I’m hijacking this plane!

Mike the Writer: Uh… this plane’s halfway under water, and random parts are falling off sporadically… are you sure you want to hijack it…?

TLTETW: Don’t try to rationalize with me, infidel!

*TLTETW reaches into the deep pockets of his coat and pulls out… a large heavy pencil sharpener!*

TLTETW: Just give me a sec while I get my gun assembled…

Mike the Writer: Certainly…

**30 MINUTES LATER**

Computer: Bad Command or File Name.

*TLTETW points a hastily assembled AK-47 at Mclongname’s head. Super glue is dripping slowly out of the joints of the gun.*

Mike the Writer: TLTETW, your trigger's on backwards…

TLTETW: Oh… yes… of course…

Gilligan: Gee, guys, watcha doing!

*Everybody ignores Gilligan*

Gilligan: Oh, you're makin’ a model kit! I used to do those!

*TLTETW rearranges his trigger and once again points it in Michael the Writer’s general direction.*

*Losien sees this going on, and knows that she must act heroically, and fast*

Losien: Hmm… if I could just hit that latch… of the overly stuffed luggage compartment over TLTETW’s head-

*Losien’s muttering is interrupted by a gangly 13 year old with glasses and wearing a Darth Maul mask drawn with Magic Markers on a Barf Bag*

Star Wars Fan and all around general Nerd: How unoriginal! They already did that in ‘I, Jedi’, by Michael Stackpole, copyright 199…

Computer: I’m sorry Dave. I’m afraid I can’t do that.

Losien: Well, I’ve got to get some kind of weapon somehow!

*As if on cue, an airline stewardess hands her an airline produced omelet.*

*As she looks at the omelet, inspiration strikes*

Losien: Perfect!

*Krig looks around the plane, and although he as already eaten a majority of the passengers carry-on luggage, was still hungry. And when he saw the black AK-47 one thought came to his mind. Prime Rib with Barbecue Sauce*

*Losien takes the discus position, and hurls the omelet through the air like a discus.*

*With his attention concentrated on Michael the Writer, TLTETW doesn’t notice the short hairy viking man charging toward him, or for that matter, the spinning omelet hurtling towards him*

*The omelet impacts on his head with a brutal CRACK. Dazed, and bloodied, TLTETW stumbles around*

*Seconds later a bullet of red hair rips through LT evil the Writer's hand, as Krig snags the AK-47 with his mouth and starts chewing on it. Unwittingly, he triggers the trigger with his tongue, firing the gun. The bullet shatters a window and then pops a water wing. The plane tilts sideways*

Computer: Warning! Maximum Weight exceeded!

Star Wars Fan and all around general Nerd: The fools! The Buoyancy on this plane can only withstand a maximum weight of 34 persons of average weight and size, and the Cargo Threshold of 784 pounds, filing singly!

*As the Titanic music plays the plane slowly starts to sink into the ocean*

*A distiguished looking man, who was sitting next to Gilligan speaks up.*

Distinguished man: Well, it's quite easy. In the past 30 seconds while that it took for the plane to fill halfway with water from the shattered window I took some bubble gum, tobacco, some of the beard not named Hank, a barf bag, some seat upholstery, some In-Flight magazines and an small bag of complimentary Peanuts and constructed this Full sized Nuclear Submarine with a robotic crew of One hundered and sixteen!

Gilligan: Gee, professor, you sure are smart!

Star Wars Fan and all around general Nerd: Somebody doesn’t know about the Conservation of Mass…

Professor: Now I just have to figure out a way to get it out of this sinking airplane...


*Oh-no! Will our writers escape? Or will they end up permentally in Davy Jones Locker? (like Janitor Bob was for the better part of a day as a Freshman) Could this be the end of the Never Ending Story Thread? For a hint, look at the title.*

------------------
May the Windex be with you
-Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)

[This message has been edited by Janitor Bob (edited July 28, 2001).]

(NSP: Davy Jones locker? Ohh, Maybechild, that is SO your cue to start writing again... hello? Maybe?)

On wit de post!

Suddenly, KTW's world-renowned powers of focus and concentration are broken by a shiny metal object outside the window.

KTW: "Hey, lookit! Lookit! Krig see somting!"

Outside, there is an ARC! (Bravely crewed, of course, by STW.) Everyone rushes to the window to see STW hanging on the outside with a nailgun, fixing a hole in the side with an old CD.

McLNTW: "Does that seem like an exercise in futility to anyone else?"

TLTETW: "Nevermind that, simply marvel at our superior Soviet designing- no airplane made in America would have skylights, making the above scene impossible, as the plane has turned on it's side!"

KTW, looking at a 'made in' plaque on one of the walls of the cabin: "Taiwan in Russia?"

STW, shouting out to the plane passengers through a skylight that has mysteriously just broken: "Hey, can I borrow a chunk of the BNNH? I need it to fix this hole."

LTW: "Hurrah! We're saved!"

Gilligan: "Saved!?!? But we haven't even gotten to the island yet!"


TLTETW: "What is American pig-dog doing in middle of ocean with toy boat I like to know? Heh? Answer that one mister smartie-pants!"

STW: "Ocean? What? This here is North Dakota! Now be a good secret assasin and come be converted to NESianity in the arc before my god had to kick your god's butt!"

Egad! Whatever happened meanwhile!?!? Has it disappeared from NES usage entirely?!?! Will it ever return? Are those two really just the same question cleverly posed in different phrasing? Furthermore, will they save North Dakota from flooding? Does anyone care if they do? Tune in next time to find out on NES; brainwashing you from every channel on cabel to wipe out the infidels!

---No actual North Dakotans were harmed in the making of this post~ Society for the Conservation of the Average American---

------------------
The early bird may get the worm-
but it's the second mouse who gets the cheeze.

Omnia quae specto dominavi, et tantam magnus sum, ut non specto!

[This message has been edited by Semievil333 (edited July 28, 2001).]

*The battle inside the sinking plane continues. MichaelTW strafes, producing a Beretta 92FS and firing at TLTETW whilst cartwheeling with his other hand. TLTE dodges in bullet-time, a universal remote control shooting into his palm care of a spring in his sleeves.*

TLTETW: Ha-HA! Soviet technology, ahoy!

MichaelTW: Oooh, a remote, fearsome...

*TLTE shoots a 'watch-and-learn' glance at him, then presses a button. The now-digested pieces of the Russian spy's AK-47 explode inside Krig, who burps up a whiff of molten steel and passes out.*

MichaelTW: Indeed impressive. (He fires off another salvo of shots, which TLTE narrowly dodges.) Any other tricks?

TLTETW: Da.

*He moves to press a button, but another explosion somewhere jolts him and he accidentally hits another. A strong magnet within the control picks up on the AK-47 inside Krig and suddenly, the unconscious Viking Writer is hurtling toward TLTE. The Russian has only time to suck in a deep breath as, with a huge crash, they go flying down the aisle.*

MichaelTW: (Running over to Losien) Are you OK?

LosienTW: Peachy. Come on, we've got to stop him!

*They run down the aisle, after TLTE, who is standing triumphantly at the front of the plane, a clear 20 feet away, at the airlock.*

LosienTW: All right TLTE, game's over! You could have been friends with us, but you chose the villain path...now hand over the documents!

*Suddenly, there is the sound of another engine. Losien and Michael stare out, wide-eyed, as a Soviet submarine, complete with hammer and sickle insignia, pulls up next to them.*

TLTETW: I'd love to stay, and share stories, but unfortunately, I've got a sub to catch. Ta-ta!

*Laughing maniacally, he leaps through the plane airlock to the sub airlock, sealing it behind him. Losien and Michael move to follow, but suddenly, the other 15 or so Russian spies on board, with their own top-secret stolen documents, turn and fire on them, all bustling to board the airlock.*

LosienTW: There's too many of them...quick! Make a break for the airlock! I'll cover you!

MichaelTW: But-

LosienTW: You HAVE to stop TLTETW! GO!

*Simultaneously, as Michael makes a break for the airlock, Losien leaps up, firing wildly, forcing the Russian spies to dive for cover. Michael runs all the way to the airlock, through the danger, only to find it locked. On the other side, TLTETW grins, holding up the documents for inspection, then waves as the sub breaks off and starts rising quickly.*

MichaelTW: Ahh, screw it.

*He fires at the airlock door, which bursts open, flooding the airplane in seconds. Kicking it open, he starts swimming rapidly, grabbing onto a hand-railing on the side of the submarine and holding on as it starts to rise...*

Will MichaelTW survive the inevitable submarine-top battle with TLTE? Can Losien, Krig and the other passengers somehow survive without air? Will everyone live? And what's for dinner tonight? Saving that last one, all will be revealed soon on...NeS!!!

NSP: Whew! I'll be gone for a week. So I hope that the Neverending Story Thread doesn't die without me!

Here are the previous posts:

Antestarr's post


*NSP: Aaaah.... It's good to be back. Took me a while to catch up, but here it is, the Ante has finally come back to NES! Prepare for the most electrofying post in... aw skip it.*

*Gebohq and TLTENTW lay one on top of the other, guns touching each other's foreheads. With no other choice they pull the trigger. As the magnum begins to cock itself, the Klobb begins its volley of bullets. As the echo of the 20 rounds fades, both men open their eyes to find 20 bullet holes around Geb's head.*

TLTENTW: Stupid foreign innacurate guns! Why oh why couldn't they give me a Spyder like I asked?

*The magnum finishes cocking itself, and the hammer begins its painfully slow descent to reach the bullet. TLTENTW, realizing the immintent danger, throws himself to the side. 10 seconds later the gun fires. Afterward, the two stand up and brush themselves off.*

Geb: I suppose its time for the obligatory "chase through the bookcases", huh?

TLTENTW: Da.

Geb: Well, how about I try a clever ploy to get a head start. OH MY! Look behind you.

*TLTENTW turns around to see a concrete wall and Geb runs off. TLTENTW quickly turns around and lays chase, continuing to fire his gun, bullets embedding themselves in the concrete walls. Geb, firing a shot behind him every 30 seconds, wonders if this is merely an excersise in futility...*

-----------

*Antestarr, now finished with his dispatching of the Spooky Taco writers, begins ambling back to his cubicle. He wonders what Geb is up to and how the ride in the fancy car went. Upon entering the office area he notices that something is missing.*

Ante: Hmm.... I wonder where Sem went... And what happened to all the cubicle walls? And the duct tape? Oh well, I guess I'll work on the story for a bit.

-----------

*Inside the story, inside the van, inside Ante's mind, an inside thought thinks about how boring it is inside this ride to somewhere he's not familiar with.*

Ante (to himself): I wonder how long Ares will sit idly by while a religion is created from this story that I'm a part of where people worship a pidgeon... And how did I realize that this is a story, anyway? Oh well, I gotta pass this boredom by somehow.
*Ante takes his singularity gun and starts to re-shape it. Soon he's holding a wooden acoustic guitar. He promptly begins playing a familiar tune...*

Ante (singing): Wasting away again in neverendingness. Looking for a brand new shaker of salt. Some people claim that I'm the person to blame, but I know (doo doo do do doooooo) that it's Miss Fire's fault!

What will become of Geb and TLTENTW? Where is the van going? How long will it take for ATW to call Ares about the whole Nessianity craze? Where is the van going? Attempt to find out these answers in subsequent posts of "The NEST"!
/Addendum\: NEST stands for NeverEnding Story Thread. HA!
[This message has been edited by Antestarr (edited July 30, 2001).]

Antestarr's post

*NSP: You know, thinking back, I can remember a time. A much simpler time. A time when the "writers" were nothing more than entities that somehow controlled our world. It's interesting how things go. One moment you have this idea floating around of people controlling your fate, the next moment half the story follows them, the moment after that they become more important than the story itself. It's almost tragic, really. Kinda makes you think. That is, if you've read every page... every post... Oh well, enough of my little outburst. Get posting, people!*

The Last True Evil's post

(NSP: According to the Massassi news page, any posts between now and approx. Tuesday will be destroyed when the server changes, so remember to save your posts from now on!)

*TLTETW stands on the deck of the Soviet Submarine Klass Akt, shouting commands to the troops.*

TLTETW: Avast, ye landlubbers! More power! Scotty, MORE POWER!!!

Scotty: (From the engine room) I can't dooo it Keptin, I dooon't have the power!!

TLTETW: No excuses! I want more power and I want it 90 seconds ago! Yuri, fire another torpedo at the aircraft wreckage! Miroslav, get the radar system un-jammed, dammitall! Boris, blow the ballast tanks! Bob, get me a cuppajoe! Vladimir, wipe that humanoid-shaped coffee stain off the radar!

Vladimir: I'm afraid that's not a coffee stain, sir, that's actually a human...he appears to be clinging to our submarine.

TLTETW: Give me a visual...

*The image of Michael McLongnameTW appears on the main screen, slightly blue due to asphyxiation, but no worse for wear.*

TLTETW: Damn you, McLongname...damn you.

*He considers for a moment.*

TLTETW: Yuri, lock up these documents and see that they make it to Siberian command, no matter what!

Yuri: Sir!

TLTETW: Bob, surface the sub!

Bob: Sir?

TLTETW: DO IT!

*Rapidly, the submarine rises, until they reach the ocean surface. On top of the submarine, MichaelTW sucks in a long breath and fights unconsciousness.*

TLTETW: I'm going up there to teach that ignorant American a lesson...in Russian combat.

*He races for the access hatch, stopping only to snatch a nasty-looking Russian scythe from the armoury...*

Janitor Bob's post

[Nsp: You mean that there's a realm other than the writers realm?!! Now you tell me. But, seriously, Once we get done with the TLTE stuff, and the other writers get out of prison, I'll try to put the focus more on the heroes]

*As the NES film rolls on, a member of the audience raises his hand*

Audience member: Uh… Mr. Narrator guy! I have a question!

Yes…

Audience member: So… the plane has actually crashed in South Dakota?

North Dakota, yes.

Audience member: But… North Dakota isn’t anywhere near Russia.

Krig isn’t exactly known for his Navigational Skills.
Audience member: Krig’s a Viking! All Vikings are good…

Next question, please

Audience member: And there is a Soviet Submarine floating around too?

Your reading comprehension skills seem to be improving…

Audience member: Why is one of the crew on the sub is named Bob?

uh... That's going to be part of a major plot development... I think...

Audience member: But this Soviet Sub is in North Dakota…?

Well, maybe they got lost too

Audience member: But isn’t North Dakota landlock…

LOOK! Just shut up, sit down, watch the movie, and eat your Goobers ™!

------------

*Meanwhile… (Ooh, that makes me feel so nostalgic saying that)… our writers are doing amazing physical feats with their robust muscles and lightning quick reflexes despite the fact that the only previous physical activity that they had engaged in involved lighting quick typing skills. I mean, come on, let’s face it. They're writers.*

*As the completely submerged plane descends to the bottom of Lake Sakakawea, in North Dakota, Losien gives sound advice to the frightened passengers*

Losien the Writer: Okay… whatever you do, don’t inhale.

*Krig the writer wakes up from his peaceful slumber. He too, gives one of his insightful observations that he is known for*

Krig the writer: Krig all wet.

Losien the writer: There’s got to be some way that I can save all these helpless passengers, while at the same time stopping the traitorous communist spies, preserving capitalism for the democratic majority!

*The camera pans over, showcasing the professor’s large Nuclear Submarine in the center aisle, that the other writers forgot about.*

Losien the writer: There’s got be some way, but I just can’t think of it.

*The camera zooms in on the Sub and shakes, beckoningly.*

Losien the writer*closing her eyes, contemplatively*: Hmm… I’ve got to think…

* A siren blares and the words, HINT HINT appear at the bottom of the screen*

*While Losien is too deep in thought to notice these hints. However, Krig does notice them. But where others see a giant sub, Krig sees… a giant sub*

*(Sub sandwich that is)*

*Still hungry, despite the fact that he had recently eaten an AK-47 and a large percentage of the airplane, charged up to the submarine, and just happens to open the hatch, and fall inside*

(Krig eating inedible things seems to be a reoccurring theme in the Neverending Story Thread)

*Losien and the passengers jump into the sub before any water can get into it*

Losien the writer: Professor!

Professor: Yes, Ma’am?

Losien the Writer: Get us out of this plane! Then stop that Soviet Submarine.

Professor: Certainly! But first, may I use a Kleenex?

*Losien hands him a tissue*

*The Professor immediately uses the tissue and his astounding engineering abilities to construct a ICBM missile launcher. He launches a missile into the side of the plane. With a blinding flash the plane is disintegrated; the blast causing a shockwave felt all the way at the city of Mobridge, South Dakota*

*Uninhibited, the Nuclear Submarine dives towards the Soviet sub, carrying three writers, the late plane’s passengers, and the entire cast of ‘Gilligan’s Island’*

------------------
May the Windex be with you
-Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)
[This message has been edited by Janitor Bob (edited July 31, 2001).]

[/b]Michael MacFarlane's post

(I was just about finished typing my post, and then I lost the whole thing. Oh well. :begins retyping post
[This message has been edited by Michael MacFarlane (edited July 31, 2001).]

Michael MacFarlane's post

(NSP: Quality over quantity, and in this case perhaps neither, as I've been lacking inspiration. I apologize in advance for the quality of this post.)

(Michael stands on the deck of the submarine, facing TLTE.)

Michael the Writer: Ah, you again.

TLTE the Writer: And more annoyingly for me, you again. If there was any justice in this world, you would be dead.

Michael: Yeah, it helps to have the writers backing you up...

(TLTE swings his scythe at Michael.)

Michael: Hey! (dodges) Put that thing (dodges) down. You could (dodges) poke an eye out (dodges) with that (dodges and gives TLTE a hard kick in the side).

(TLTE staggers back, and Michael makes a break for the hatch. TLTE hurls his scythe at Michael, but too late, as Michael has already ducked inside the submarine.)

TLTE: You son of a...

(Cut to submarine reactor room.)

TLTE: Alright, Mike. Come out now, or I start shooting.

Michael: (Sean Connery voice) Careful. Some things in here don't react well to bullets.
TLTE: I know this ship, and I'll take my chances. You've got five sec-

(Michael jumps out from behind one of the reactors, kicking the gun from TLTE's hand. Both dive for it, seeming to set up the standard struggle for the gun. Suddenly, a voice comes over the intercom.)

Voice: 30 seconds to critical failure.

TLTE: What? What happened?

Michael: (goofy grin) It's a Russian submarine. Something was bound to go wrong.

Audience: Booooooo!

Voice: 20 seconds to critical audience... ah... failure.

TLTE: Aw, screw it. (pulls a knife and stabs Michael) I wish I could be here to see you die, but it seems I'm not going to get that pleasure.

Voice: 10 seconds. 9... 8...

(With that, TLTE runs for the hatch. Just as the countdown reaches one, he dives out into the ocean.)

Voice: 0.

(Silence.)

Michael: (suddenly realizing) It was the automated warning system that went wrong! This submarine is still completely operable, and presumably abandoned.

(Michael tries to jump up excitedly, and is given a painful reminder that he still has a knife in his stomach.)

Michael: Ow.

What will Michael do with an abandoned, but completely operable sub in the middle of North Dakota? You might find out next time, or you might not, in The Neverending Story Thread!

Gebohq's post

"Won't anybody jump in my hand-made arc?" Sem the writer asked in futility, as there was no more plane of passengers or writers, only two submarines underneath him. Feeling alone on his rickity and "cozy" arc, Sem tries to send a package of cookies by dove to be given to anyone who would join him in his arc. As he released the dove though, it promptly sank into the water with the package of cookies.

"What a waste of cookies, now that they're all wet," Sem the writer said to the newly born thread named "Battle for the Nexus", which responded with a burp.

------------------
~Geb

Janitor Bob's

*The Last True Evil the Writer poked his head out of the water and gulped in air in quick, deep, gasping breaths. Clutching the his black leather briefcase to his chest, he looked around and found himself in the middle of Lake Sakakawea, in North Dakota.*

*It was just about that time that he remembered that he didn’t know how to swim.*

*Panicking, and inhaling water like Albueterol™, TLTETW starts to wonder if this really will be the final end to his short but firey existence as a main character*

*He needn’t have worried, seconds later a massive callused hand picks him up by his ears and dropps him in a fishing boat. The hand… and the boat, belonged to an old white haired, fat man, dressed in a black trenchcoat. He had a face that looked like it was the only cushion to several high speed head on collisions. He was one of those men that could only be described as ‘wrinkly’. He let out a low guttural growl*

*TLTETW shakes the fish out of his pockets, empties his ears and mouth of water and silt and stares at his rescuer. A flash of recognition comes across his eyes, temporarily blinding him*

TLTETW (out of character once again): Hey-hey! If it isn’t my old friend and employer Audrey Iosoffechekov’Golvokovichesegeyakatovo Popov! Or Ivan for short! Wassup! How’s the wife and kids?

*Ivan ignores the questions and introductions*

Ivan: Aw... so you have escaped as well, the fury of a self-destructing submarine. I didn't want to do it, but I knew the only way we could destroy that infidel, Mclongname, was to trap him in a burning radioactive hulk of molten metal...

TLTETW: Ah... beautiful imagery...

Ivan: Too, bad that we had to sacrifice the rest of the crew, though.

TLTETW: What? Didn't they escape.

Ivan: Yes... *sigh* they escaped, only to be eaten by large Man-eating sharks...

Audience Member: There are sharks in Lake Sakakawea in North Dakota?

I'll pretend I didn't hear that

Ivan *growling*: You… have the documents, Da?

TLTETW: Da. How could I possibly forget them, Comrade Audrey Iosoffechekov’Golvokovichesegeyakatovo Popov?

*TLTETW hands Ivan the briefcase*

*Ivan opens the briefcase carefully, being sure to not trigger the nuclear devices that so often guard these things. With a click the lid pops open. Ivan paws through the contents*

Ivan: Lets see… we have a blue cashmere sweater, some bifocals… and a book called Aunt Erma’s Cherry Pie Recipes™. No secret documents.

TLTETW: Aw… Rodina
-------------------------
*Meanwhile, in the submarine USS The Minnow, an old lady looks through her black leather suitcase*

Aunt Erma: Humph. I can’t seem to find my eyeglasses. All I can find are these guns and papers with red stamps on them.

Professor (looking at the sonar screen): All hands, prepare to fire on Soviet Contact at 216.

Losien the Writer: Wouldn’t it be better if we’d try to reasonably communicate with them instead.

Professor: Well, yes, but you guys are Never-ending Story Writers. You don’t communicate. You blow stuff up.

Losien the Writer: Stop generalizing me.

Professor: *sigh* It's so typical of young woman to say those things.

Losien the Writer: Hey...

Gilligan: PROFESSOR! The surface sonar’s making those beeping noises again!

Professor: That must mean we must have a surface contact!

*The professor studies the amplitude and frequency of the reflected sound waves coming on the sonar computer*

Professor: Hmm… it appears to be a small fishing boat with a crew of two…

Losien: How can you tell that from just the sound waves?

Professor: Well, the periscope helps too...

*The professor pauses, then turns to Losien. Military drum music plays in the Background*

Professor: Well, it looks like it’s up to you Commander Losien. Do we shoot the submarine or the fishing boat? Your choice.

Losien: Ooh. It’s like one of those ‘Choose your Own Adventure Books’

*If Losien shoots the Submarine, turn to page 483. If she fires on the fishing boat turn to page 252. If she is especially malicious and torpedoes Sem’s arc instead, turn to page 62,579. If she decides to give up writing and run for president of a small Caribbean republic turn to page 1,337 (Note: If you pick the wrong choice Evil WILL triumph and innocent people WILL die. Read the next post to find if you made the right decision*

------------------
May the Windex be with you
-Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)
[This message has been edited by Janitor Bob (edited August 01, 2001).]

Semievil333's post:
HUAAAA!!!! Post 900! 1337!
(I now must find some way to edit the post 900 times, in celebration of this momentous occasion!)

Semievil333's post:

Edit 900 times? Ohhh I get carpal tunnel just thinking about it.
On with the post!

Suddenly the surface sonar begins to spazam and bleep wildly. The Professor orders the crew to surface, and sends LTW to check it out.

LTW, clinging to the sonar equipment for dear life, staring at a sopping-wet white bundle, spazaming on the sonar
reciever: "Cookies? Mmm!"

STW, from his arc, notices the sub and the cookies.

STW: "In the name of NES, I have at thee!!! Ramming speed, One Word Post!"

The one word post immediately begins shooting out random, useless sentences, out the back of the arc, pushing it at breakneck speed towards the Professor's sub.

The sub, being held together entirely by bits of TBNNH, splinters into it's respective components, including a gigantic wad of TBNNH

------------------
The early bird may get the worm-
but it's the second mouse who gets the cheeze.
Omnia quae specto dominavi, et tantam magnus sum, ut non specto!


------------------
May the Windex be with you
-Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)

[This message has been edited by Janitor Bob (edited August 14, 2001).]

[This message has been edited by Janitor Bob (edited August 15, 2001).]

*Janitor Bob the writer wakes up from an extended nap to find himself sitting up, in a chair, in an ominous conference room, and tied up- in stark ignorance of NES tradition in electrical tape (the blasphemous heathens!)*

Bob the Writer: If I could… just… reach… my paint scraper…

*Suddenly two ominous shadows step into the conference room. They flip on a switch and a fluorescent light blinks two times and then turns on humming.*

Bob the Writer: Who the heck are you guys?

Guy #1: No, need to get mildly profane Bob. I am Head Guy, the head guy of PPV enterprises. And this is my assistant, Assistant.

Assistant: Howdy.

Head Guy: And we need to talk to you about your… so called… “Never-ending story thread.”

*The head guy makes quote marks with his fingers, angering Janitor Bob*

Bob the writer: What do you mean?

Head Guy: Well it seems the writers aren’t actually writing. For the past SEVEN episodes the so called “heroes” have been sitting on a BUS not doing a THING!

Bob the writer: Well, right now the writers are kinda busy. For example, half the writers are saving the world from an evil domination plot involving clones and communist subs.

Assistant: What about the other half?

Bob the writer: Uh… they’re in jail.

Head Guy: I see. Well. Anyways. The polls have been dropping. Assistant will show this via a professionally done Powerpoint presentation with repetitive ‘whooshing’ noises.

*Assistant clicks on an LCD projector and starts showing the presentation. A chart wipes diagonally, that appears to a graph of the Dow Jones Industrial Average*

Assistant: You will notice that… in the month of… June, we had over a six hundred and twenty seven viewers purchasing pay-per-view for NES. Unfortunately, notice how in the month of July the graph starts free-falling, and eventually, in the Month of August, hits the bottom of the chart with a loud ‘splatting’ sound. At this point our viewership had fallen to one customer, an Ester Rembrandt, who is on a vacation to East Africa and had forgotten to turn off the T.V. and left it on our channel.

Bob the Writer: Great! That means we are boldly striding against the status quo. We are giving our viewers… or viewer, something refreshingly different.

Head Guy: Well, you are right about the “different” part. We have decided to radically change the style of NES. So, after polling the local mental institution… Assistant… the next slide please…

*Drumroll sound*

**5 minutes later**

Assistant: Whoops! Just realized that I didn’t set that slide for automatic timing.

*The Assistant clicks the mouse. With an out of place ‘laser’ sound, and a swivel effect, these words come on the screen*

*Never-ending Story: The Musical*

Bob the writer: WHAT!

----------------
*As the Nestology mission bus putts alone at a hasty 23 miles an hour on the unswerving highways of Missouri. The heroes look out at the never-ending fields of corn in awe*

Heroes: This is boring.

Losien: I’ve got an idea. Whenever I go on camp trips we all sing loud obnoxious songs to annoy our camp leader!

Otter: Great Idea. I’ll start…
oh… it’s the thread that never ends!
It goes on and on my frieeeeend!!! GA_Farret staaaaaaarted writing it, not knowing what it wassss!

*Sem beats Otter temporarily unconscious with his large stick*

Janitor Bob: Well, I’ve got a better Idea…

Hit it, Krig!

Copyright 2001 “The NES Rap” Scoop Dog Doo, Guinness Book Records ©

*Suddenly, with a blinding flash of light, the heroes clothing is ‘magically’ transformed.*

*Krig’s Viking outfit is now black and leather, with large aluminum spikes in random places glued onto it. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a microphone*

*The Bus radio starts blaring a continuous beat*

Bus Radio: BOOM BOOM CHICK, BU DUM BU DUM CHICK


Krig:
Yo, yo dadio, ma name is Krig,
I’m so hungry ah could eat a pig,
Ah like ta use Bible verses in ma sig
My brain may be small; but ma appetite is big.


BOOM BOOM CHICK, BU DUM BU DUM CHICK

*With an artful flick of his wrist, Krig tosses his Microphone to Geb. Gebohq has bandanas tied to his arms, his legs, his feet, his hands, his neck, his mouth, and his nose. The Bandanas are polka dot orange and pink- the gang colors of the Homey Sapiens, a fearsome L.A. gang.*

Gebohq:
‘Sup, I’m Gebohq, leader of this mess
Now, that it’s this far, I do confess
That it is still running it does impress
Guess, that’s why it’s called… NES.

En Ee Es, En Ee Es, En Ee Es!

BOOM BOOM CHICK, BU DUM BU DUM CHICK

*Bob uses his squeegee as a microphone. As he raps, he twists his fingers into strange hand gestures. (Like a dog, and a swan)*

Bob:
Hey, hey, I’m Bob, Janitorial King,
The best cleanin’ man the world ‘as seen
I’d like to give the world a shiny sheen,
Wit’ my ab-i-li-ty to clean.


BOOM BOOM CHICK, BU DUM BU DUM CHICK

*Otter wakes up, groggily. He has his pants sagging down below his ankles. Geb tosses his Microphone to Otter, and it hits Otter in the head. Even without the microphone, Otter starts blaring out another verse*

Otter:
Hi, I’m, Otter- that’s my sign
Ah, am good, and ah, am fine,
You’ll never find me wit’out a bottle a’ wine,
cuz… um… er… eh… what’s my line?

BOOM BOOM CHICK, BU DUM BU DUM CHICK


*Masseto grabs the microphone, and attempts to perfectly imitate the lyrical genius of all of his favorite rap artists*


Masseto:
**** Masseto, **** ******,
***** **** **** *******,
*****, **** *****!
******* Massassi language censoring system…

BOOM BOOM CHICK, BU DUM BU DUM CHICK

*TLTETH starts to rap also. Unfortunately, it is ‘Soviet rap’ , so only the Russian speaking members of our studio audience can understand it*

*Michael Mcloname decides that he’ll do TLTETH’s verse for him. Michael- clad in an old torn black shirt of a Skull with Red, White, and Blue flames spewing out of its mouth, continues the song*


Mike:
He’s LT evil, Communist drone,
His biggest secret is not widely known
Call agent Hazy- pick up the phone,
Cuz, LT evil is a diabolical clone.

Will the real Last True Evil… please stand up,
…please stand up…

But I’m Michael Mclongname and here’s what I say,
Whatever happens and come what may,
Unless you, are willing to pay,
Don’t you be messin’ with the USA.

BOOM BOOM CHICK, BU DUM BU DUM CHICK

*Cooked Haggis is still dressed in a tuxedo, but extra long chains droop out of his pocket. These chains are connected his pants to his Platinum Deluxe Visa Card*

Cooked:
I’m Cooked Haggis, the Scottish bright-,
And I’ll be your waiter, for tonight,
Would you like some water, beer or sprite?
Just don’t expect to me to always write.

BOOM BOOM CHICK, BU DUM BU DUM CHICK

*Ante has rearranged his acoustic guitar to be a Heavy-metal electrical one. He bangs randomly on it, screaming…*


Ante:
I am Antestarr, nickname’s Ante,
Sit down and listen to my rant,
The writers no longer use hero slant,
And they do stuff that writers can’t

BOOM BOOM CHICK, BU DUM BU DUM CHICK

*Sem looks like he normally does- which is grungy enough*

Sem:
It’s Semi-evil complete with cape,
Every time I want to escape
I use my friend with the donut shape,
Good old holy pure duct-tape!

BOOM BOOM CHICK, BU DUM BU DUM CHICK

*Lt. Randy is fitted out in full military uniform of Commanding Officer of the Third Regiment of Emergency Writers. However- his beret is on backwards- showing that he is just totally overridden with rebellion and punkish-ness*

Randy:
Lt. Randy here- sir, yes, sir
And though to you it may not occur,
but at least in this story I’d prefer
to be a ‘him’ and not a ‘her’

BOOM BOOM CHICK, BU DUM BU DUM CHICK

*Maybe’s garb includes some torn reflective pants that appears to have had an oil spill on them. She also had her hair dyed blonde, and gelled up in several 9 inch spikes*


Maybe:
As introductions go, am’ Maybe child,
So log that name and get it filed,
I’m the one who had all beguiled,
At least until I got ma hair restyled.

BOOM BOOM CHICK, BU DUM BU DUM CHICK

*Losien is dressed in spotless blue jeans and a white brand-name sweater with a smiling monkey that is playing the guitar on it. (Losien just doesn’t seem to… get… the grunge thing)*

Losien:
Call me Losien, as opposed to Walt,
My posts are those you can’t exalt,
All wrong doings including assault,
Are somehow always all my fault

Geb:
Tsk, Tsk, Losien, no it’s not,
All that is a bunch of rot,
Your posts everybody loves a lot,
Now, I’ll give you all a synopsis of the plot!

*Suddenly, the strobe lights go off and spotlights point to Gebohq… the music gets extremely speedy loud and obnoxious. Gebohq starts singing… if you can call it that… inhumanly fast*

Yo, a big fat comet was headin’ towards earth,
And the NES thread was given it’s birth,
Ares laughed at the simple fools,
And challenged the bad writers to multiple duels
The poor thread was in disarray
As the writers fought Sam and Max, and Y2K.
All of this was on Pay per view,
Subjected to analytical review,
Which that was why they made the call
To cause the comet to make landfall
Instead almost magi-c-ally,
It hit Admiral Thrawn’s… SSD
While Otter wanted to go on a Binge,
Instead he… went to Stonehenge,
What happened next, was quite strikin’,
In joined in, Krig the vikin’
Something happened in Canada…
But I’m not really sure what.
I know that last line didn’t rhyme,
But it doesn’t have to,
Because of poetic license,
Anyways, nobody can tell what I’m saying,
Because it so beepin’ fast.
Experiencing viscious torque,
The heroes activated the mod of Spork.
Ya, I too, was in the dark,
As too why they went to Disneyland park.
Then came the part we hated most…
NES
Became
A
One
Word
Post
Transferring back to monotony,
The Arena returned with Bert and Ernie
Later Yoda Krig went ‘splat’,
Dodging Morris the cat
With Losien at the Laundromat,
Ignoring the obvious ‘guy’ angle,
The writers were involved in a love triangle.
Responding to positive polls
Darkside appeared and tried to take our souls,
Candyland! Mr. T!
The Lolipop land! Mystery!
Without a narrator we were sunk
so we resurrected an oblivious punk
As Harvey so eloquently put it: “…”
Valiantly, and dressed in flannel,
we all tried to change the channel.
Reversing the flux polarity,
We initiated a Star Wars Parody.
All was good and even dandy,
Till in crashed in Lt. Randy.
In yet the weirdest plot-twist known,
The writers turned up in the twilight zone,
After a round of ‘Ben Steins Money’
we escaped from the T.V.
But only to have our beloved congregation
To turn up in the Playstation,

*Realizing that he is only on page 16 Geb starts rappin’ faster and faster and faster. Only random words can be caught by the straining ear. These include things such as ‘Jail Time’ ‘Chicken Bone’ ‘Opera song’ ‘More Senseless and gratuitous violence’ ‘Massassi is Dead’ ‘Spooky Taco’ ‘Car Chase’ ‘Microsoft’ ‘Ugo’ ‘Betrayal’ and ‘Audrey Iosoffechekov’Golvokovichesegeyakatovo Popov’*

BOOM BOOM CHICK, BU DUM BU DUM CHICK

Geb: Second verse!

*Suddenly the reverberating rhythm of ‘music’ is barely noticeably replaced with the reverberating rhythm of automatic weapons fire. Noticing that the windows on the bus are starting to shatter, the heroes dive to the floor.*

*Geb instantly thinks that the gunfire must be because of the gang colors that he is wearing. Little does he realize that it is directly because of his singing!*

Geb: Uh… Peace out?

*Yo, I know we have you perplexed,
as to what will happen next,
you will have to read the rest,
of the thread that is the best.

BOOM BOOM CHICK, BU DUM BU DUM CHICK*

Audience Member: Wait… wouldn’t that be The Eternal War?

Shut yo trap, boy!

------------------
May the Windex be with you
-Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)



[This message has been edited by Janitor Bob (edited August 06, 2001).]

(Oh no, Janitor Bob, the man who has single-handedly given the NEST fresh blood and direction, is leaving us? For a week? Whatever will become of this thread?)

*The Nesianity Bus, containing the Heroes of this story (somehow returned to their original appearences) rattles down the road, away from the automatic weapons fire. The bus no longer has any windows, most of the seats are riddled with holes and their stuffing is coming out, the fire extinguisher has been punctured sixteen times and has blown up, and the roof of the bus now looks more like a sieve than a roof. Despite all this, not one of our heroes have a scratch on them.*

Phantom Master (In German Accent):"Vot vos all dat aboot?"

Geb:"I think those people thought we were members of an opposing gang or something."

Maybe:"You do realize that we're travelling through North Dakota right now? There are no enemy gangs anywhere within a hundred miles of us. Those were ordinary folk, apparently driven insane by... something."

Phantom Master:"Nein, nein, I meant vot vos all dat musick aboot?"

Geb:"Um... I'm not sure... I just had a sudden, uncontrollable urge to connect with my deep, repressed urban self, I think."

Lt. Randy:"Hey, guys, do I have to sit with Krig? He just bit me!"

*The bus comes to a sudden halt. Looking outside, our heroes observe that the bus is waiting at the customs office on the US-Canadian border.*

Ante:"Hey, driver, why are we going into Canada? I thought we were going to Russia, to save the world or something!"

*The driver turns around, a massively fat fellow who looks like he couldn't get out of the driver's seat of the bus if he'd wanted to. The driver is wearing a kilt and traditional scottish dress, but speaks with an Wisconsin accent.*

Driver:"How did you think we were getting to Russia, accross the Pacific? We're going over the North Pole!"

*Krig claps his hands giddily.*

Krig:"Santy Claws! Santy Claws!"

*The entire busload of Heroes erupts into a monstrous cheer.*

Busload of Heroes:"We're going to see Santa Claus! Yaaaaay!"

*At that moment, a Canadian Customs Officer walks up to the door of the bus, and motions that the bus driver open it.*

Customs Officer:"Ahem, sir, would you please pull over into the lot over there? We're going to have to search this vehicle."

*The bus driver obligingly pulls over into a little side area. Six customs agents swarm the bus, searching all over it for smuggled goods. Our heroes get off the bus and are told to wait inside the customs building. Inside the customs building, our heroes wait for someone to tell them what to do.*

Janitor Bob:"Hrm. This place is awfully dirty for a Canadian place..."

Michael MacLongname:"Yeah, I didn't think Canadian Customs Offices usually had dingy black walls with cobwebs covering them, or human skulls littering the floors..."

*The Customs Officer bursts into the room, an enraged expression on his face.*

Customs Officer:"We found traces of illegal stuff on your bus! By Canadian law, it is punishable by death to smuggle such abominations as Goodness and Purity into the country! You will all by executed by the High Lord Demon!"

*The Otter looks up from his....magazine.*

The Otter:"Oh, yeah, I just remembered. You know how I banished that demon way back on page seven? Well, I found out later that he ended up in the Canadian Parliament and turned the country into a totalitarian Communist hell-hole. Just thought you might want to know."

Geb:"Hm. I guess the 666 tatooed into the Customs Official's forehead shoulda tipped us off that something was wrong....I just figured it was a local Canadian custom."

Egads! Whatever will happen to our heroic heroes? Will they be executed by the long forgotten High Lord Demon that now rules Canada? Continue reading this non-sensical rubbish if you really want to find out.

------------------
Read the Bible, it'll scare the hell out of you.

[NSP: Since TACC's down, I thought I'd venture over here for a bit...]

Otter: "You know, being heroic hereos™ and all, shouldn't we do something heroic about now?"

Michael MacLongname: "Like what?"

Otter: "You know, beat the guards up, steal a van, tear across Canada and overthrow the Hig Lord Demon sort of thing."

Geb: "Or....?"

Ante: "We stay here and die. Slowly and painfully."

Geb: "Hmm...let me think about this...."

Otter: "You know, once you die you can't look at porn..."

Geb: "What?! Never?!"

Ante: "Oh no, no porn in the afterlife. No beer either.."

Geb: "Nooooooooooooooooo!"

*In a boiling rage, Geb procedes to single handedly kick, hit, headbutt, punch, knock, beat, prod and otherwise generally annoy all the customs people until one guy remains standing*

Customs Officer: "Er....I surrender? Heroes can't kill surrendered guys can they?"

Lt. Randy: "Well I don't know about that..."

Geb: "No beer and no porn make Geb get slightly vexed."

CookedHaggis: "Actually, we can't kill him. Under section 5b, paragraph 9x of the "Heroes Handbook" (2nd edition)."

Geb: "Well...darn..."

CookedHaggis: "Though the book doesn't say anything about hurting him a little..."

Lt. Randy: "Right. *turning to Ante* Just knock him out."

Ante: "What do you mean?"

Lt. Randy: "Are you deaf? You know, knock him out, render him unconscious, take him down, KO. Ain't you ever watched the boxing?"

Ante: "As it happens, I haven't. I pride myself on the fact that I wouldn't lower myself to watching two grown men kill each other for entertainment."

Lt. Randy: "Look, just hit him!"

Ante: "But why?"

Otter: "Are you deliberately annoying or just plain stupid? We don't want him to leg it and raise the alarm do we? Just give him a wallop and we'll be on our way."

*THUMP*

Ante: "Argh! My sodding hand!"

*Ante rubs his hand to ease the pain*

Custom's officer: "Your hand?! What about my head?! That bloody hurt you know."

Lt. Randy: "I said knock him out Ante, not give him a black eye."

Ante: "But in the films they just..."

Otter: "In the films? You think this is a film? Do you see Brad Pitt or Julia Roberts wandering about?"

Ante: "Admittedly no, but I do see Kevin Spacey over there..."

Otter: "No one likes a smart *** ..."

Customs Officer: "Look, do yuou think I could just...."

*He's cut off as Janitor Bob's broom whacks him over the back of the head*

Janitor Bob: "Right, that's enough of this scene, it's just dragging on far too long..."

(NSP: yeha yeah, I'm going to post now. Standing ovation to Janitor Bob's last post! As well as applause for the return of the High Demon in Canada. Which gives me an idea-r...)

IN the heroes' realm, *deep breath* Gebohq, Semievil, Krig the Viking, Antestarr, Cooked Haggis, Janitor Bob, Maybechild, The Otter, Masetto, Losien, The Last True Evil (the Hero), Michael McLongname, Lt. Randy, Phantom Master, and the small band of faithful Nesians *breaths* wait for impending DOOM to fall upon them--

random audience member: Why the hell are they standing around, waiting for certain doom to fall on them? Are they idiots or something?

That's impending doom there, mister.

Random audience member: Oh, and I suppose a "funny" bit will come up where big letters that spell "Doom" fall on them, huh?

When did I ever say you were in this scene? And are you the same audience member that's been interrupting me every time throughout this thread?

Random audience member: Er...nooo...*tries to look innocent*

Yeah. Anyways, our heroes didn't have to wait long. In fact, they were waiting for about a little less than 8 seconds when, before they could bolt, the High Demon himself appeared in front of them!

Geb *rolling his eyes*: Thanks, oh benevolent Narrator.

No problem, Geb. *snicker*

Cooked: And I thought the voice from nowhere was referring to the game. Demons in that thing I can deal with.

Los: AH! It's a *)#&ing demon!

*Everyone stares at her.*

Los: Er...*cough* excuse my french.

Otter: Don't get so worked up. We've dealt with these things before. And this time, there's only one. We can take care of it.

Sem: *ahem* Otter.

Otter: Yeah?

Sem: We had magic powers when we fought them before, remember? We don't have them now. It kind of has the upper hand on us now.

The High Demon, standing patiently in his black suit, smiles with all his teeth showing.

Phantom Master: *in Little red Riding hood accent* Oh my, what sharp teeth you have...

Ante: A gameplan might be good right now.

Maybe: Don't look at me.

Masetto: *to maybe*I was looking at your face, honestly--I mean, got me man. I'm cool with whatever. Well, except being part of the demon's dinner.

The High Demon, glancing at his watch, was becoming bored of the banter, and decided to make himself known that he was about to attack them, being the considerate bad guy. To his misfortune, a mystical swirl appeared next to the heroes, and not wasting any time, the heroes jumped in, avoiding the High Demon's wrath.

High Demon: ....... Damn those plot holes...
--------------------------------------------
Somewhere deep within the Yukon woods, our heroes are thrown out of the mystical swirl. Around them, they can spot a crashed UFO, a nearby Mountie camp, a secret underground base only true bad guys could afford with the label "Secret Arean (not mispelled--a division of Nesianity based of Ares) Lair", and a small one-road town consisting of a bar, an inn, and the house that Alex Trebek resides in.

Janitor Bob: Well, we may be freezing here, but at least we don't have to worry about the High Demon.

Just then, the heroes spot teh High Demon materializing nearby, seraching for them.

TLTE: You just haaaad to say it, didn't you?

McLongname: Where now though?
---------------------------------------------
In the writer's realm, Geb the writer and TLTE Not the writer stare blankly at each other.

Geb: Er....what were we doing again?

TLTENTW: Dah...trying to kee-ill each other?

Geb the writer: Do we have to?

TLTENTW: Well, you don't. It'll make my part a lot easier.

Geb the writer: I'm really getting hte feeling you don't like me--*points behind TLTENTW* LOOK!

As TLTENTW looks behind, Geb the writer makes a mad dash out the window and in the nearest car.

TLTENTW: ....I can't believe I feel for that. *pulls out cell phone* 'Ello? Yes, could you send some henchmen to go kill Geb? ... Well yes, I would do it myself, but I'm going to be late for a meeting with my, uh...brothers, as it is and well, I'd jsut appreciate it if you could do this for me. Thanks, bye then--da? ...mm-hm... da, I'll remember to pick up milk and bread. Yah then, good bye.

Meanwhile, since Geb the writer couldn't find a car, he tries his hands on a tank.

Oh boy, that should be fun. Can Geb the writer drive a tank? Will the following scene involving Geb the writer be a direct rip-off of Goldeneye? What path will our heroes take now, deep within the Yukon? Will they ever be able to stop the trechery of the High Demon of Canada? Will they continue on their quest to end the plot in Russia? ??? ??-??-????-?? Can I, the Narrator, ever ANSWER any of the questions I ask? No, but the next parts of the Neverending Story Thread can! Haha, suckers! You have to read on where as I, knowing all, knows what will happen and choose to taunt you instead! ...come back, I didn't mean it...

~Geb

(NSP: If we have those other posts saved, should we re-post them, so we can be above 900 again?)

*5 black Mercedes skid round the corner, heralding the arrival of the dispensable henchmen.
They screech to a halt when they see the tank*

*Inside Mercedes #1 are Henchman #1, Henchman #2 and Henchman #3. They are identified only as numbers. They all wear black gucci suits and wear dark glasses. The amount of black clothing is to show that these people are EVIL. They all wear the same clothes to show that they have no unqiue personality, rendering them cold, impersonal, and therefore EVIL. The dark glasses not only have the metaphorical styling of closing off the "windows to the soul" by making them black (and therefore EVIL), but they also hid the henchmen's faces, meaning that we do not care when they die, since we can't see their expressions fully and therefore their emotions are hidden- not allowing you to identify with the EVIL people.*

Henchman #1: "Uh....It's a tank. No one said anything about a tank..."

Henchman #2: "My, that's a big, long weapon he has there..."

*Henchmen #1 and #3 look at #2, leaning away from him as they do so*

Henchman #1: "Why do you always do that?"

Henchman #2: "What?"

Henchman #1: "Whenever you see the guy were chasing, be it a suave secret agent or whatever, you always come out with an exceddingly camp comment."

Henchman #2: "I do not!"

Henchman #3: "Oh yeah? What about that time we had to chase Ethane Lunt? "Ooooh, I bet his firearm is cocked and ready to fire" is what you said..."

Henchman #2: "Well it was!"

Henchman #1: "And what about you said went we captured Jim Blond- "I bet he likes it shaken and not stirred..."

*By this time Geb has figured out how to start the engine, and charges away in the Tank.
Backwards.*

Henchman #1: "Look out!"

*The tank smashes into Mercedes #1, and rolls over it, crushing it into scrap (though not worthless scrap, since it still has a Mercedes logo on it, meaning some sucker will be willing to pay for it).
Luckily, the only people killed were Henchmen #1, #2 and #3, who we don't care about anyway since they are cold, faceless henchmen who are above all, EVIL.*

Geb: *driving off* "Sorry about the mess..."

*Geb, feeling smug for managing to fit in a Star Wars quote, looks around for someone to be smug at. Then realising of course that he's in a tank on his own, so speaking out loud is rather pointless.*

*Mercedes #2 pulls away, Henchmen #4, #5 and #6 inside*

Henchman #5: "Let's ram him!"

Henchman #4: "He's in a bloody tank you fool.."

Henchman #5: "We'll be hereos! We can get infront of him then blow him up when our fuel tank explodes as he rolls over it! Muwahaha!"

Henchman #4: "You're a lunatic! A suicidal lunatic! Tell him #6..."

Henchman #6: "Yeah....like....whatever dude...relax and stuff. You're shouting's giving me a headache...just chill..."

Henchman #4: "What have I told you about smoking a joint before coming out on car chases? You're the driver, you're supposed to be in a fit state to drive!"

Henchman #6: *turning his head to face #4* "Yo, relax man, everything's cool, I've got it totally under control...."

*Mercedes #2 drives straight across a T-junction and smashes right into a lampost, reducing the car to a massive pyrotechnic display.
Again, the only injuries sustained were to the EVIL, faceless Henchmen, and a small, dog which happened to be relieving itself at the time. Fortunately, the dog got away with only mild burns to the...uh...area it was using to relieve itself*

[This message has been edited by CookedHaggis (edited August 11, 2001).]

(OOC: Man, I hate writers block!!)

In the Story Realm...

*Spotting the nearby UFO, Phantom_Master runs and dives into it. Flipping all the switches to the œºµ±ª¥£¤¡ position, the UFO starts hovering above the ground. Grabbing ahold of the supposed steering mechanism, and kicking a few scientists out of the cockpit, Phantom_Master began to fly around the forest, firing ALIEN power blasts at various people on the ground.

Phantom_Master: (In ALIEN accent)"Let the invasion begin!!"

*After picking up the NeS heroes he started flying at high sub-light speeds towards the North Pole...

What will happen next? Does the High Demon have control over the North Pole and surrounding territories? Will the USA come and take the UFO away? These questions and more will be asked in the next episode of... THE NEVERENDING STORY!!




------------------
I am the Shadow...

(NSP: As some of you more observant writers may have perceptively noticed, by the fact that the words ‘Janitor Bob’ are in the upper left hand corner of the post- I’m back! Heh. I just coincidentally, spent a week in Canada, so a demon taking over the country seems very realistic to me… Here’s a very short post, to make up for my very long one)

*Meanwhile, in cyberspace…*

*Enchilada man jogs into the CyberArena ™, breathless, two Anti-Hacker RPG’s in his hands and his back strung with ammunition.*

Enchilada Man *Yelling in a cracking voice *: Hey guys! I’ve escaped the dungeon! I’m ready to help you defeat the spooky taco! Uh… guys? Hello? Anybody here?

*Enchilada Man is greeted by cold silence and the stretching emptiness of the darkened arena*

Enchilada man: Guys? Geb? Maybe? Losien? Mrs. Fire? Herr Taco? Timmy? Anybody? Okay guys, this isn’t funny. Where are you… I know how to stop the Taco…

* 02windsound.wav starts playing as an ambient sound in the sector the Enchilada man is in*


Will Enchilada Man ever figure out where everybody is? Will Enchilada Man ever actually be mentioned in the story again? Does the length of this post even merit a preview for the next?*


------------------
May the Windex be with you
-Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)

(NSP: Yay, welcome back, JB!

After many hours of back breaking toil, I have finished colourizing that picture one or two of you may remember that I started some time ago. Y'know, the group shot of every hero in NES, with the exception of TLTE and Michael MacLongname, whom I cannot draw because I do not know what they look like.
Anyhow, in this picture I've strived for accuracy, so the depictions herin should be as close as humanly possible to what the characters look like in their creators' minds.

Enjoy.)

------------------
Read the Bible, it'll scare the hell out of you.

*In the frozen tundra of northern Canada, two Inuit hunters wait patiently by a seal's breathing hole, spears in hand. It has been days since their last meal, and they hope to catch a seal that will feed their village for weeks.*

Inuit #1: "Jala shokemo koka kola!" ("Holy crap it's cold out here!")
Inuit #2: "Etundee adidas moonkei!" ("Yeah, my nose hairs are freezing together!")
Inuit #1: "Ugol munki nikee!" ("Maybe it would be warmer if we wore something more than our underwear!")
Inuit #1: "Yoko ezekly moo pepsee!" ("Yeah, these new laws that the High Demon Lord passed about hunting in your underwear suck!")

*The two Inuit hunters put their clothes on and continue hunting. Just then, a polar bear comes bounding over a nearby snowdrift, looking freaked out of its mind.*

Inuit #1: "AAAAHHH!! EKU KOKA KOLA!" ("Hey, look, there's a polar bear.")

*The polar bear jumps over the two Inuit hunters, eats the seal that had just popped out of the hole, and continues running.*

Inuit #2: "Eula lolo emteevee?" ("What was that all about?")

*From over the same snowdrift that the bear jumped over, a high pitched, eerie humming can be heard. Suddenly, a UFO smashes through the snowdrift, flying rather low, laser beams flashing and disintegrating stuff.*

Phantom (in cowboy accent): "Yeeeehaw! Ah almost got 'im that time! Y'hear that polah bear! Ah'm agonna gitcha!"

*The UFO flies away, in pursuit of the polar bear.*

Inuit #1: "Uolo gola slinkey." ("You didn't slip a hallucinogenic drug into my breakfast this morning, did you?")

Inuit #2: "Umgo woola leevais." ("Uh, well, yeah, I did, but it shouldn't be working just yet...)

*In the UFO, Phantom is wearing a polar bear pelt. He looks at the controls.*

Phantom (Klingon accent): "It appears that we are nearing the North Pole, captain."

Geb: "Good, good."

Phanton (Klingon accent): "Who said you were the captain?"

Geb: "Uh... Santa Clause!"

Phantom: "Oh. My apologies, captain."

*Janitor Bob, sitting at one of the many consoles in the spacious UFO, notices something on a nearby display screen.*

Janitor Bob: "Hey, guys, there's a strange blob on this radar screen..."

Antestarr:"Why would a civilization advanced enough to build interstellar spacecraft still use radar?"

Geb: "Shut up and go along with it, Ante! What's it look like, Janitor Bob?"

Janitor Bob: "Uh, well, it looks sorta like a sleigh... Pulled by eight tiny reindeer!"

Geb: "A sleigh pulled by reindeer, eh? Hm... I've never heard of anything like it. Let's kill it, just to be safe. Fire Torpedo!"

*Phantom hits a button. Krig, off exploring a small, straight tunnel in the UFO, hears a slamming noise, and looks behind him to find the passageway he just came through now closed off.*

Phantom (in Upper Mongolian accent): "Torpedo away!"

Janitor Bob: "Ah, I see the torpedo on radar! That's odd, it has a vague, short-hairy-Vikingish shape to it..."

Oh, no! Have our heroes just torpedoed Santa Clause?! Have they just shot the lovable Krig the Viking out of the torpedo tube? How does Phantom Master know how to fly a UFO anyways? Can I please have all of your money now? Yes, you! Who did you think I meant?!

--Uh, erm, tune in next time, etc etc etc.

------------------
Read the Bible, it'll scare the hell out of you.

[NSP: Ooh! Ooh! I wanna see the picture! Unfortunately, my filter won't allow any sites that are usefull. So could you E-mail it to me again? (At Janitorbobnes@yahoo.com) Thanks!)


*Activating it's Turbo Quadra Photon Thrusters, the UFO manuvers through the a craggy ravine of the Wrangel mountains of the Yukon. Santa's Sleigh executes a hairpin turn. Santa hangs on helplessly as he watches his red hat blow off and plummet down to be buried in a monsterous snow drift. Despite this the UFO is right on it's tail. And the VYKNG class torpedo weaves up and down, avoiding the Sleighs anti-missile flak, intent on ramming the sleigh at full speed*

Janitor Bob: It's pingin', it's pingin' almost there...

TLTETH *rubbing his hands*: BWA HA HA!! When that torpedo hits Santa's air vehicle, it will mean the END OF CHRISTMAS! FOREVOR!!!

Phantom Master *In very bad acting, kid's movie accent*: Oh, no! Not the end of Christmas!

Janitor Bob: Uh... what about the more religious aspects of Christmas, like...

*CENSORED BY THE AMERICAN SOCIETY FOR RELIGIOUS TOLERANCE*

Geb: Hey, I see me, TLTE, Antestarr, Bob, Phantom, and Krig was here, but where is everybody else?

Janitor Bob *looking at console*: Well, it says here that the maximum weight capacity of this UFO is 6 heroes... the others must have not been abducted because they couldn't fit.

Antestarr: Hey! How do you know how to read that strange cryptic Alien language?

Bob: Uh... Janitorial School?

Geb: Shoulda guessed.

*Finally, the torpedo rams into the sleigh, which shakes like a bowl full of Jelly.*

Krig *in sleigh*: Oh... Krig head hurt.

Santa: HO HO HO! It must be one of those short little stone Talking Lawn Ornaments I ordered for the upcoming season.

Krig: Krig not lawn ornament. Krig fearsome viking.

Santa: HO HO HO.

Krig: Krig think Santa needs to lay off the anti-depressants...
--------

Geb: DAMAGE REPORT!

Janitor Bob: Uh... minimal sir! The craft seems to be made of stronger stuff than we previously imagined. Either that or the Torpedo was made of weaker stuff than we imagined...

*Taking a chance, Santa orders his reindeer to zoom through a low hanging rock archway. A reindeers antler is chipped off as they barely clear it. As the UFO attempts to travel through it as well a rock smashes into the windshield severly damaging the flux campacitator array.*

Santa: HO HO HO! Faster! I need these stupid reindeer to go faster, you morons!

*An elf sits at a console which has a computer screen with 9 blue outlines of reindeers with numbers next to them. The elf has a kilt.*

Scottish elf: THEIR GIVIN' IT ALL THEY'VE GOT, CAP'N!

SANTA: HO HO HO!! CRUD! Okay, no more Mr. Kind and Jolly. Elf #1467! Fire the guns.

*Elf #1467 reaches into Santa's sack and brings out a rapid fire cannon. He mounts it on the back of the sleigh, braces himself, and then starts firing a barrage of snowballs.*

*Snowballs pelt the surface of the UFO. One goes through the broken windsheild and knocks Phantom unconcious.*

TLTETH: Don't panic, comrades!

*TLTETH jumps into the pilot seat and pushes a few buttons. 5 joysticks pops up and a targeting console.*

TLTETH: Unfortunately, this craft is designed for creatures with 13 arms...

*Expertly, TLTETH manuvers the alien spacecraft through the snowy mountains and valleys, far better than Phantom did*

Antestarr: You know how to drive a UFO too!

TLTETH: Da. It's one of the things we soviet agents are very skilled at. We've been driving UFO's for years. How do you think we were able to execute the Kennedy assassination!

Antestarr: Oh. Of course.

*TLTETH brings the targeting console up to his eyes.*

*The UFO starts shooting out high speed purple beams at the sleigh. Most miss, and cause major avalanches.*

Scottish Elf: We can't take ut much longe'!

*A beam hit's one of the reindeer. Flaming and smoking the reindeer spirals down out of formation and impacts on the snowy valley below. Seconds later, the reindeer explodes, sending up a column of fire and snowy debris.*

*On the computer monitor on Santa's sled one of the blue reindeer outlines flashes, and then glows red*

Scottish Elf: We just lost Prancer!!!

Santa: HO HO HO!!

*Will Santa's sled be destroyed? Will Phantom be okay? What color was that snowball that hit him in the mouth? Tune in next time on Krig: The Viking that saved Christmas*

------------------
May the Windex be with you
-Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)

[This message has been edited by Janitor Bob (edited August 14, 2001).]

*Somewhere, in lower Zambezi, TLTETW and his boss, who we'll call Ivan from now on, stand in line for a plane to Moscow.*

Ivan: I can't beleeeve you lost the secret documents, TLTETW!

TLTETW: Ahhh, shaddup.

Ivan: Maybe you won't be so cocky when you hear the news about OLTE.

*TLTETW's eyes widen.*

TLTETW: He's....back?

Ivan: Da...and he wants those documents...

TLTETW: I'll...I'll find them! We already have a name...we'll get them back.

Ivan: See that you do...OLTE is not as forgiving as I.

*He storms away, leaving a quivering TLTETW to catch the plane to Moscow.*

TLTETW: Rodina!

!BUT THEN!

*GebohqTW storms through a crowded marketplace in his tank, trying not to hurt any cute little doggies on his way.*

GebohqTW: Hey, I'm getting pretty good at this! Now, to stop all the TLTE's and their evil conspiracies-

*Suddenly, he spots TLTETW in the middle of the marketplace, with an RPG launcher.*

GebohqTW: Smeg.

*Instinctively, he speeds up, and the tank hits TLTE just as the grenade fires. There is a HUGE explosion, and the marketplace is lit up by the sheer...huge-osity of it. Eventually, the smoke and fire clears. Predictably, Geb crawls out from under the wreckage, having sheltered himself in the plot-hole-airbag within the tank.*

GebohqTW: But what about TLTENTW?

*Suddenly, he spots the broken, still form of TLTENTW a few feet away. He pulls the shrapnel off him.*

TLTENTW: Geb..bohq...forg-give me..

GebohqTW: I forgive you. You may die in peace.

TLTENTW: But before I go...know this....I am n-not who you think...I am.

GebohqTW: Whatchoo talkin' bout?

TLTENTW: Help me...take off this...mask.

*Slowly, GebohqTW removes the fake LTE's face, revealing...ANOTHER IDENTICAL FACE!*

TLTE: You see?

GebohqTW: No...not really...

TLTETW: I am...TLTETSI...The Last True Evil The Stand-In. TLTETW...asked me to distract you. I'm...sorry.

*He dies. Gebohq makes to turn, just as TLTETW's garrotting wire slips around his throat, tightening instantly...*

Has TLTETW punched Gebohq's ticket permanently? Will TLTETW escape the wrath of OLTE? And how do I, let alone everyone else, keep track of all of these me's? Find out in future NeS posts!!!

*Finally, after days of endless back-breaking digging, our heroes finally climb heads out of the tunnel they had created, hopefully to freedom.*

*Unfortunately, due to some miscalculations on Butch's part their tunnel ended up being a tad to short, in that they arrived in the cell adjacent to the one they had previously been in.*

*But fortunately for the plot development of the NeverEnding Story, the Cell door was unlocked*

*Cautiously Cooked Haggis pushes the rusty cell door open with his foot, and the heroes sneak out. Hastily, but as carefully as possible they skulk through the Hallways, ducking under security cameras and dodging detection lasers.*

Randy the writer: Don't... make... a sound...

Butch the writer: *@^&! MY FOOT! #*%@! THE #*@% STEPPED ON MY @*%^(@ FOOT!

Otter the writer: Oops...

*As if on that cue, a massive double door slowly slides open to reveal a massive contigency of the prisons armed guards. Predictably they all wear dark sunglasses, despite the fact that they are indoors. But, as has already been mentioned, this makes them somehow seem scary- not stupid.*

Cooked the writer: What do you have to say for yourself, Otter.

Otter the writer: Uh... crud?

*The first guard sees the writers, and recognition flashed across his eyes, but it wasn't too bright because of his sunglasses*

Guard #1: There they are!

*As the Guards rush forward, Masseto grabs a nearby potted plant. Slinging the rhodedendron around, he launches it through the air where it impacts on the Guard #1's shin. He falls to the ground in pain, where Guard #2 trips over him.*

*Seeing their chance to escape, the prisoners look at eachother... and then charge towards the guards.*

Otter the writer: FREEEEEEEEEEEDOM!!!!

*Unable to stop in time, Otter collides with Guard #3 and the sound of their heads hitting reverberates throughout the hallway. Guard #3 falls to the ground- unconcious. Otter is unscathed.*

*As if he were sliding into first base, Lt. Randy dives on the polished floor, spinning around and grabbing Guard #1's automatic. He guns down Guard #'s 4 through 7.*

*Butch brings down his massive fist on Guard #8's previously round face.*

*Cooked Haggis serves Guard #9 a spicy Knuckle Sandwich.*

*Mr. T starts doing his Kung-Fu things... eliminating Guards #10 through 17.*

Otter the Writer: I almost feel sorry for those guys...

Mr. T: I pity the foo' who pity the foo'.

*But before they could philoziphize any more about the ethics of empathy, Lt. Kedri leans around the corner and fires his service revolver. Once.*

*The bullet hits Randy's gun and snaps it in two.*

*Immeadiatelly, most of the prisoners drop their weapons and put their hands in the air, defeatedly.*

*Otter on the other hand...*

Otter the writer: YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!!!

*Otter puts his head down and rushes toward Kedri, screaming incoherently*

*Kedri steps out of the way.*

*Otter runs into a brick wall, where he falls and is quiet for a little bit*

*Lt. Kedri and Aglar step out into clear view*

Aglar *looking at Otter*: I thought only solitary confinement did that to people.

Masseto the writer: He's had a rough day. We all have.

Lt. Kedri: Well, speaking of which, your free to go.

Otter the writer: YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE... what?

Lt. Kedri: Well, PPV Enterprises requested that you be released to continue to do what you are supposed to be doing... writing. So your free to go.

Butch: Yeah? Well, what about me and the T-man, punk?

Aglar: I'm sorry. But you'll have to stay. A misusage of grammer are a serious crime.
Cooked Haggis the writer: What? Don't we get a goodbye party?

Aglar: *looking at the guards on the ground* Uh... I'm afraid they were your goodbye party...

Randy the writer: Oops...

Whatever will the writers do when they get out of jail. Will they actually... dare I say it... write? Only time will tell. Time will tell...

------------------
May the Windex be with you
-Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)

[This message has been edited by Janitor Bob (edited August 16, 2001).]

[This message has been edited by Janitor Bob (edited August 18, 2001).]

hehe

------------------
Please stay seated and dont try any Heroics just pass forward all your valualbes Lightsabers inclusive.Insane Thread Hijackers

*And yet another foolish citizen obliviously raises the NES post count*

------------------
May the Windex be with you
-Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)

(NSP: First of all...I know I haven't written in a really long time. It's just been...well, I can't really explain it. But that's what it's been. (If you know what I mean) Unfortunately...I'm leaving tomorrow for Massachusetts/Connecticut. I'll be there for about 2 1/2 weeks. That means that I will go at least another 2 1/2 weeks (most likely) without posting anything. Right when I get back...school starts. This isn't an excuse for my lack of posts lately...but it's just well...I've been pretty busy and I guess I haven't had anything "good" in mind to write lately. *Sarcastic sentence to follow* I just got the results back from my last doctor's appointment...he said I've been diagnosed with a "100%Writer'sBlockitis" The only cure for this is time...and it's not sure that even that will cure it. The good news is...I'm not going to die from it (although - it may cause people to get mad at me because of my non-posting status...and that can lead to murder..) but I'm still here. So...now that I know what I'm diagnosed with...I can hopefully try to do something to fix it. (Ex. Try to find more time!) Anyways...so, again, I'm really sorry I haven't posted in a while. I just want to say...that luckily for all of you...my "2 1/2 week absence" will not harm the NeS as much as J-Bob's 1 week away. Speaking of Janitor Bob - I enjoyed your long post (long is good!) about the NeS writers becoming Rappers. It was great. I laughed so much! Hehe...and I also think it's cool Losien didn't have to be "grungy" hehe. Anyways, I'm particularly sorry to you...for not posting a Non-NonStory Post. I hope you forgive me. Also...Krig....the picture is great! :-) You're so amazing! All that characters look incredible. Just like I pictured...only better. (Does that make sense?) Anyways...I hope...once things get straightened out around here (my home) that I'll be able to find my name more often in bold in the left margin (for when I post) so...we'll see. Thanks for being so...understanding. Oh yes...before I go...did you know there's a song called "Never Ending Story"? (By New Found Glory I think..or some group like that. My little brother was telling me. Hmm..anyways..)

------------------
When life hands you lemons, squeeze the juice into a squirtgun and shoot other people in the eyes.

(NSP/OOC: Thanks, Los, 'bout the pic. And don't worry, we'll take up the slack caused by your absence... Somehow. *runs away and has an emotional breakdown* )

*The dingy streets of our Heroes' home city. A dog runs accross the street, chasing a mangy cat, as a car slows to let them by. A mugger holds up an old lady with a knife, as a crazy bum wanders aimlessly, and a large UFO (similar to the one TLTE is now piloting) hovers overhead, sending down a beam of light and dropping an odd collection of people ingraciously on the street.*

Losien (calling up to the UFO): "Come on! Just one more round of Candyland! Please?"

Voice from UFO: "No!"

*The UFO flies off.*

The Otter: "Dang, and I almost had that alien chick's phone number, too!"

*In the background, the mugger snatches the old granny's purse.*

MaybeChild: "Hey, look! We're back in the city where we live!"

Lt. Randy: "What city is that?"

*In the background, the old granny lets out a karate yell, and drop kicks the mugger in the head*

Masseto: "The city of--"

*A random anvil drops out of the sky and hits Masseto on the head.*

Lt. Randy: "Ok... What state are we in?"

*In the background, the old granny and the mugger engage in a Matrix-esque karate battle.*

Cooked Haggis: "We are in the state of--"

*A random anvil drops out of the sky and hits Cooked on the head.*

Lt. Randy: "Oh, I see, so we're in the city of--"

*A truckload of random anvils drop out of the sky and hit Randy on the head, as the old granny walks off with the mugger's wallet and her purse.*

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Meanwhile, Santa's sleigh streaks through the night sky at supersonic speeds, mere metres above the ground, dodging through the forest of Christmas trees at the North Pole. The UFO trails behind, agilely and nimbly, with the craft's alien manoeuvring technology, managing to avoid the spaces between every single tree.*

Geb: "I thought you said you could fly this thing, TLTE!"

TLTE: "Da, I can! I juzt like hitting trees!"

*The UFO goes out of its way to knock down the biggest tree in the forest. Unbeknownst to TLTE, this is Santa's Favourite Christmas Tree.*

*Zip pan to Santa's face. Rage builds on the jolly features.*

Santa: "Now they've gone too far! It's time to make a stand against these Martian sons of #%&#s, and save the world once more!"

*Santa pushes a button on his sleigh. Instantly, a high-grade polymer cover slides up and over the top of the sleigh. The sleigh's runners pull in, giving the sleigh a more aerodynamic appearance, small air foils pop out of the sides, and heavy artillery suddenly pops out from just about every unused inch of the sleigh. The reindeer are suddenly encased in robo-copesque flight suits.*

TLTE: "Oh, vlodnoy."

Bob: "What'd you say?"

TLTE: "Erm... You don't want to know."

*Inside Santa's sleigh, Krig speaks up.*

Krig: "Them not Martians. Them Heroes."

Santa (wearing a black leather flight suit, with white fur edges): "What's that you say, little garden gnome?"

Krig: "Them not Martians. Them Heroes of Story."

Santa: "Well why didn't you say so, little garden gnome? I can't kill the Heroes of the Story!"

Krig: "Good."

Santa: "But I can destroy their UFO and severely injure them!"

Krig: "?"

*Santa's sleigh does various aerobatic manouvers, dodging all of our Heroes' UFO's fire. Whipping the sleigh around, he faces the UFO.*

Santa: "See you in Heck, you dang Martians!"

*Close up of Santa's thumb depressing large red-and-green button on sleigh's control stick. Two missile (looking strangely like candy canes) foosh out of the sides of the sleigh, and destroy the UFO in a large, Hollywood style, slow-motion explosion. The flaming wreckage of the UFO crashes to the ground, right on top of the North Pole pole.*

Santa: "Hee hee hee heeee!"

Krig: "Wait... Santa not laugh like that! You not Santa at all!"

Santa: "Huh? Erm... Yes I am!"

*Krig jumps on top of Santa's head, and pulls his beard off. Most of Santa's face, now revealed to be a rubber mask, comes off as well.*

Krig: "Buby00!"

*Where Santa's head should be, Burby00 sits at a complicated set of levers and stuff... Santa is actually a robot controlled by Burby00!*

Burby00: "Haha, you see, the man you thought was Santa is actually a robot, controlled by I, Burby00! The real Santa is tied up in his pathetic fortress under the North Pole! You see, every child on earth will receive next Christmas one of my vast legion of Furb--er--Burbies! Only these Burbies will be armed to the teeth with High Explosives, and many forms of weapons! With every family on earth under my control, I shall rule the world at last!"

Krig: "Huh?"

Burby00: "Great, they would have to shoot the stupid one at me. I... Am... Going... To... Take... Over... The... World! Do you understand me?"

Krig: "Oh. Krig stop small fuzzy creature then."

Burby00: "Hahahahaha! You cannot destroy me! I am invincible! Your puny threats mean nothing to--"

*Burby00's tirade is cut short by Krig's axe cutting him in half.*

Burby00: "Aw, pooo......... *fzzzt*"

*Krig expertly lands Santa's sleigh near the crashed UFO. In the wreckage, Krig spots movement. Geb stands up, looking rather fried, his long hair standing straight up.*

Geb: "Everybody Ok?"

*Janitor Bob stands up, also very blackened from the explosion.*

Bob: "Yep, all ok here--AAAAAIIIIIEEEE! Dirt! Dirt everywhere! Must clean!"

*Janitor Bob goes into a crazed cleaning frenzy, whilst the remaining three heroes that were in the UFO emerge from the wreckage.*

Geb: "Krig, what happened?"

*Krig rapidly recounts the recent rumblings. Surprisingly, despite his talking like a tape on fast forward, everyone understands him.*

Geb (walking over to the North Pole pole): "We've got to find Santa Clause and untie him, and thus save Christmas!"

*Zip pan to the streets of our Heroes' home city. Geb, TLTE, Ante, Bob, Phantom, and Krig stand on a pile of random anvils, waving goodbye as Santa's sleigh dissapears over the horizon.*

Geb: "It sure was nice of him to drop us off here after we untied him."

Bob: "Yeah, but I can't help thinking we've fogotten something..."

*The camera zooms out to a shot of the entire world. Little Russian flags cover every single country on earth, excepting North America.*

Geb: "Oh well, it can't be important. Let's go find a bar, somewhere in this great city of--"

*A random anvil drops out of the sky and hits Geb on the head*

Egad! Whatever will our heroes do now? Will they succesfully find a bar in this great city of--

*A random anvil drops out of the sky and hits the Narrator on the head.*

Ow! How can that even happen? I'm the Narrator, I'm invisible and all powerful in this story world! I'm going to talk to the management about this....

------------------
Read the Bible, it'll scare the hell out of you.

*Moscow. Inside the newly-constructed LTE's Free Speech Forum and Dictatorial Totalitarianistic Autocracy HQ, on the 782nd (the top) floor, OLTE broods in his overly-elaborate throne. He has replaced his monk's robe with a much more stylish black tunic and cape. Around him, various LTE's scurry about, working out this and sorting out that.*

TLTETNFC (The Last True Evil the Nervous, Fidgety Commander): Lord LTE, the latest report has come in. We now occupy the entire world, save North America, and of course, the Heroes' Realm.

OLTE: Excellent...deploy our forces. We'll take Washington D.C. by sunset tomorrow.

TLTETNFC: Da, comrade.

*He exits. A very nervous TLTETW is sent in after him.*

OLTE: TLTETW...I hear you have devised a way to break into the Heroes' Realm for me.

TLTETW: Da, sir. You see;

*The next phase of dialogue is accompanied by blueprints, photographs, and post-it-stickers.*

TLTETW: There is no defined way to enter into the plane of reality known as the Heroes' Realm, as it exists to us only as words and grammar. However, it indeed is another world, and another regime for us to dominate. After many years of research, we have hit the answer. We need to get 'written in' to the story.

OLTE: 'Written in'?

TLTETW: Da. Only writers can safely transport characters and objects from the Writer's Realm to the Heroes' Realm.

OLTE: Well, what are you waiting for? You're The Last True Evil the Writer, aren't you? Write me and my army of LTE's in!

TLTETW: Er...it's not that simple. You see, being a fairly new writer, I lack the experience and power to properly handle this job. Even if I could, the process will kill the writer after the job is completed. Our only other option is to...persuade...another writer to do the job for us.

OLTE: You have a target?

TLTETW: Only someone who has proven his skill...who has done the impossible and survived all 23 pages of the NeS...

*He hands OLTE a photo. A well-known figure stares back at him, with a deathly-serious scowl.*

OLTE: Gebohq?

TLTETW: The only skilled-enough writer we could locate. Think of the barrier between the two realms as a 'door'. We open the 'door' with Gebohq's talent, and use his mind as a sort of 'wedge', to keep the 'door' open.

OLTE: Keep talking...

TLTETW: The critical factor is speed. The pressure of the 'door' on the 'wedge' will be enormous. We must get as many troops through before Gebohq's mind snaps under the strain.

OLTE: Most impressive, TLTETW. And...how exactly do we do this?

*A LONG silence.*

TLTETW: The plans for this device are...being procured as we speak.

OLTE: From who?

TLTETW: (Smiling) Ironically, the very man we need...Gebohq.

!MEANWHILE!

*GebohqTW claws uselessly at TLTENTW's garrotting wire as it chokes the life out of him. TLTENTW's demonic grin of triumph is shattered into a mask of irritated shock as static blasts through his earpiece.*

Earpiece: Remember, idiot, we need him ALIVE!

*Gebohq takes the opportunity to flip TLTENTW over his head, sending him crashing to the floor. His boot comes flying down at LTE's head, but the sneaky Russian's reverse-kick catches Geb on the chest first and sends him staggering back. TLTENTW leaps to his feet and turns, facing his foe.*

Geb: So, you need me alive, huh? Why?

TLTENTW: None of your business!

*A Russian throwing-knife is suddenly in his hand. He tosses it with lethal precision and it lands in Gebohq's thigh. Geb cries out, falling back on the bonnet of a flaming car. TLTENTW jumps at him again, but Gebohq kicks him in the face. He leaps awkwardly off the car, pulling out the knife and tossing it away. A flurry of punches and kicks later, Gebohq stands victorious over a bruised and bleeding TLTENTW.*

GebohqTW: Now I Fed-Ex your sneaky Siberian *** back to your own country.

TLTENTW: I...don't think so.

Gebohq: Oh yeah? How do you figure that?

TLTENTW: The knife I threw at you...was laced with...a tranquilising agent.

*Gebohq's eyes widen as he stares at the cut in his thigh. He lurches at TLTENTW, and falls asleep on top off him. Cursing, TLTENTW pulls out his comm-link.*

TLTETNW: Get me a pick-up, fast! We have the plans, and Gebohq...

*He starts laughing maniacally, as evil people often do in these situations...*

Oh, rodina! Will all the LTE's eventually dominate the Nes? Will Gebohq escape from his imminent torture and death? Will the writers (and heroes alike) save him? Only time will tell in...the NeS!!!

*Janitor Bob the writer wakes from his unconciousness once more.*

*Once more he is tied up in a chair in the PPV conference room*. However, this time they got it right and used Duct-tape.*

Head Guy: We have something else to tell you, Bob.

Bob the Writer: Wouldn't it be easier to just E-mail me when you have something to tell me?

Head Guy: You never check your E-mail.

Assistant: Besides, it wouldn't be NEARLY as much fun.

Bob the Writer: Good point. So 'wuz up'?

Assistant: Well, our change in format was a 'minor' succsess considering that we now have over 200 viewers. However, for some strange reason they all have the initials TLTE...

Bob the Writer: That's odd.

Head Guy: Yes. Well the deal is, we stil need to attract more people. I'm thinking that we need to do more... promotionals.

Bob the Writer: Oh, you mean like I dress up as a giant Furby and go out on public streets scaring little children and handing out pamphlets?

Assistant: Not. Quite.

Head Guy: Were thinking of more of a... trailer of sorts.

Bob the Writer: Oh, but we already did one of those, back on page...

Head Guy: Yes, yes, I know Bob. But listen, if your gunna survive in this buisness, you've got to learn to recycle old jokes. Got it. Good.

Bob the writer: Okay. I'll do it. But first you've got to help me get this ductape out of my hair...

-----------------
TV Voice: We interupt the end of the world as we know it to bring a message from our sponsors.

*Suddenly, the audience members watching NES see a large green box appear on the screen. On that box, white words are written. The say: The following trailer has been rated 'PG' for having absolutely no socially reedeeming value whatsoever.*

*The box disappears and is replaced by a CGI image of the earth slowly rotating on it's axis in a field of twinkling stars; clouds skimming across the surface serenly.*

*Suddenly, the music builds as a CGI comet is shown streaking towards the planet in a ball of firey fury.*

*Seconds later the view is eclipsed by the underside of a gigantic CGI Super Duper Star Destroyer, the 'Chimi-Changa'.*

*The comet falls towards earth*

*The Star Destroyer brings its guns to bear on the defenseless planet.*

*Suddenly, the comet hits the Star Destroyer, and a massive CGI explosion rolls over the screen, dissipating into blackness as a screeching Techno soundtrack plays*

*Red bold Words appear on the screen. That deep haunting voice that always seems to do movie trailers reads the words, dramatically*

NO FEAR...

*An image of Losien facing the spooky taco appears*

Losien: We're all gunna die.

... NO MERCY...

*Cue shot of Krig the writer taking his axe to a computer*

... NO END...

*A torrent of images of the NeverEnding story pages flash across the screen violently.*

... NO PLOT.

*Random scenes from the story appear, but mostly the very violent ones*

AGES AGO, A WISE MAN MADE A PROPHESY...

Nostadamus: And ten a biiiiig rock vill smash teh planet and *hic* people will die...

Bartender: Okay, I think you've had enough.

AND IT ALL GOES TO HECK FROM THERE...

*Cue recorded shots of huge explosions. These include random building demolitions, the Hiendenburg, Nuclear Bomb tests, and the time Janitor Bob the writer heated up a hotdog in the microwave without taking the tenfoil off first*

VILLAINS. WITH PLANS OF DARKNESS

Darkside: MWAHAHAHAHA! World domination WILL be mine!

Bill Gates: Hah! How long will you continue to drown in self-delusion! World domination will be MINE!

TotallyEvil: Well, hey, maybe we could kinda split up the World. You know I get a third, Darkside gets a third, Bill gets a third.

Ernie: What about me?

AND HEROES WHO WILL DO ANYTHING TO STOP THEM

Janitor Bob: There's a new Janitor in town. And his name's Bob.

BUT IT MAY NOT BE EASY

Paul Allen: Okay, Mr. Gates, what do you want me to do with the company and Customers of Apple Computers?

Bill Gates: Wipe them out. All of them.

A MOVIE THAT WILL MAKE YOU LAUGH,

Audience Member: HA HA HA! They call THAT good writing! HA HA!

AND CRY

Audience Member: You mean the movie's STILL not over... WHAAAAAAA!

WITH NON-STOP ACTION THAT WILL KEEP YOU ON THE EDGE OF YOUR SEATS

Audience Member: Ah, somebody spilled crud on the center of my movie seat...

FILLED WITH UNEXPECTED PLOT TWISTS

TLTETBCS: Because I'm not REALLY The Last True Evil the Bouncy Castle Salesman... I'm really...

*TLTETBCS peels off his mask*

TLTETBCS: ELIZABETH DOLE!!! MWAHAHAHAHA!

CRITICALLY ACCLAIMED

"On a scale of one to ten, I give this movie a 'Thumbs up'"
-Ebert and Gebohq at the Movies

"Okay, okay, I love the movie, now please put that gun down"

An ACTION MOVIE

Gun: Bang.

Bomb: Boom.

Random Expendable Citizen: AUUGH!

A ROMANCE

Losien: Oh, Michael!

Michael: Oh, Losien!

Losien: Oh, Michael!

Michael: Oh, Losien!

A MUSICAL

Antestarr: I am a N.
I am an N-E.
I am a N-E-S-T-O-L-O-G-I-A-N,
and I've got W-R-I-T-I-N-G,
in my T-H-R-E-A-D...

A SCI-FI THRILLER

Sem: SPITSPAWN! The auxilary nuetreno generator has ionically fused to the morphing gasket array!

A TRAGEDY

General Gordita: Alas, poor Taco, I knew him well!

A COMEDY

Randy: Hee hee. He said 'fart'.

A HORROR FLICK

Maybe: You haven't taken a shower in HOW long, Geb?

AND A MOVIE THAT YOU CAN TAKE THE WHOLE FAMILY TO SEE

Impressionable Child #1: Eww!

Impressionable Child #2: Gross!

Impressionable Child #3: I didn't know a body did that when it's head gets cut off!

Starring:
John Travolta as Gebohq
Tom Green as theOtter
Tom Cruise as Phantom Master
John Cleese as Cooked Haggis
Meg Ryan as Losien
Yoda as Burby00
Ewan McGregor as AnteStarr
Tom Hanks as Lt. Randy
Bill Murray as Janitor Bob
Woody Allen as Bill Gates
Erik the Red as Krig the Viking
James Earl Jones/Ray Park/Ian Mcdiarmid as Dark Side
Rosie O'Donnel as the Fat Guys that Losien always has to sit next to
and Bob Hope as Himself.

MASSASSI STUDIO'S PRESENTS...

AN I.S. BOARD PRODUCTION...

*The letter 'N' hits the screen with a bang*

*The letter 'E' hits the screen with another bang*

*The letter 'S' hits the screen with yet another bang*

THE NEVERENDING STORY. THE MOVIE

*The voice stops, and the theatre goes dark once again*

Audience Member #1: Ooh.

Audience Member #2: Ah.

Audience Member #3: Wow.

TV Voice: We now return you to your regularly scheduled the end of the world as we know it

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May the Windex be with you
-Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)

[This message has been edited by Janitor Bob (edited August 18, 2001).]

Time mah bootah! Your the Narrator! You will tell!

Who the shazbot are you?

I'm Ares' clone, don't you remember me?

Crimeny! What are you doing here, I thought you were stuck in the hero's realm

I am the clone of a god, remember? I transcend your petty mortal concept of 'realm'

How about 'dimension'?

Err... no, not that one, but I got 'realm' licked!!!

I see, well what would you propose I do about it?

*Whispering sounds and ahhs and mmm-hmmns and even a ohhh, that's good are heard.*

Ares clone: ATTACK!!!!

The word echos across a large, three-dimensional representation of the world that appears to have been spray-painted onto a beach ball, but the readers are supposed to get the idea.

Suddenly, all across the world, Ares' clones awaken from their slumber, take up the nearest dictionary of whatever language best-matches the country they are in, and smash the entire LTE world domination plan to bits, except in the writers' home town of----DAMN ANVILS!!!! Err... *Ahem* Where OLTE and his right-hand evils were controling thier world-domination plot from. Also coincidentally, the only place OLTE had managed to conquer on the continent of---- OH BUGGER OFF!!!

OLTE: Minor setback. We'll re-conquer the world in a few hours.

But in the PPV office things aren't going so well.

Assistant: We just lost our hard-won viewers!

Head Guy: Hmmn.... Looks like we'll have to take this out on Bob

Run, J-Bob, run! Err... *ahem* We now return to our regularly schedualed programming: "Cooking with TLTETEC" (The Last True Evil The Exotic Chef)

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The early bird may get the worm-
but it's the second mouse who gets the cheeze.

Omnia quae specto dominavi, et tantam magnus sum, ut non specto!

Wilson the volleyball came and killed everyone. The end... or not...

*In the turbulent oceans of eh... North Dakota, two Submarines break above the cresting waves, and dock at the Sakakawea port.*

*The hatches on both subs open and Micheal and Losien rush to eachother, the lovers' seperated passions once more united...*

Michael the writer: Losien! You Cretin! You almost torpedoed my sub!

Losien the writer: Heheh. Whoops. Next time I'll aim higher.

Michael the writer: Well, all near-death experiences aside, at least we helped defeat those evil clones and their overly optimistic plans of world domination!

*They are interrupted by a T.V. that happens to be lying on the nearby shore, yet has cable. The Channel is tuned to CNN. Dan Rather and former weatherman, Tod Ayitsgon Narain give the World Report*

Dan Rather: While our American Forces suffered a crushing defeat at San Fransisco and Florida as Soviet Clone forces pressed up the Mainland, all hope can only be trusted in the command ability of the Military Leadership...

*Suddenly, in a scene clearly plagerized from 'Tiberian Sun' Dan Rather is interrupted by the sound of a bullet hitting his skull.*

Tod Ayitsgon Narain: What a touching story, Dan.

*TLTETNA (The Last True Evil The News Anchor) pushes Dan Rather's corpse off the desk and sits down in his place*

TLTETNA: Hi. I am The Last True Evil the News Anchor, and I'll be replacing the late Dan Rather for this section of news. The word today for russian forces is VICTORY. Victory is near. Victory for the Soviets. Victory the Russians. Victory for me. For all of me!

*Suddenly there is another gunshot, and TLTETNA slumps to the floor this time. Ares Clone appears behind him with a small pistol in his hand*

Tod Ayitsgon Narain: What a touching story, TLTETNA!

*Ares Clone sits down in the Newscasting seat and continues, in the obligatory monotone voice*

Ares’ Clone: Hello. Today is an exciting day. Our fellow clones. *Yawn* Are taking over the world. We are acting now. Swiftly… and mercilessly. Isn’t that grand.

*Losien looks away from the News Broadcast and at McLongname*

Losien: Call me paranoid, Mike, but something’s wrong.

Michael: Eh, maybe I should work on that 'intuition' thing a little bit more.
-----------------------

*Washington D.C. Our Nations Capital. A brilliant sunset silhouettes the tall dome of the Capital Building. Humidity hangs over the quite town. A flock of gulls lackadaisically glide past. A summer breeze gently slides a leaf along the pavement. A MIG aircraft swoops in and the Last True Evil the Pilot casually thumbs his joystick.*

*Suddenly, the atmosphere… changed. Maybe the sun was blocked out by a cloud. Maybe the temperature dropped a tad. Or mabye, possible, it was the fact that two Sidewinder missiles were screaming across the air towards the Capital Dome.*

*The Missiles impact violently. Thousands of tons of concrete erupt as fire bellows out from the building. All of Washington D.C. hears an earth-shattering noise that can only be described as a ‘Boom’
-----------------

*Cheers erupt across the nation*

----------------
*Meanwhile, Inside the newly-constructed LTE's Free Speech Forum and Dictatorial Totalitarianistic Autocracy Bourgeois Oligarchic HQ, on the 836nd (the top) floor (The building had an addition), OLTE pounds his fist on his large rotating chair.*

*All villians must have large rotating chairs*

OLTE: The fool! And he calls himself one of me! The Last True Evil the Pilot just destroyed the US Capital Dome!

TLTETNFC: Isn’t that a good thing?

OLTE: Of course not! Now that their government the United States will be able to actually function, and make decisions!

TLTETNFC *cursing*: Khrushchev!

TLTETW: Oh, well I have some good news for you. It might take your mind of this…

*TLTETW hands OLTE a package*

OLTE: Oooh. It feels heavy.

*OLTE opens the package, giving himself a minor paper cut in the process*

OLTE: *gasp* It’s Gebohq!

*TLTETNFC takes Gebohq out of the box.*

OLTE: Tsk, tsk, tsk, Comrade. What do you have to say for yourself.

Geb: Ow! My leg fell asleep!

OLTE: Excellent. TLTETNFC, take him to the mind control apparatus.

TLTETNFC: The... mind control apparatus sir?

OLTE: Exactly. I have been working on it for many years. It takes the victims yucky opinions of us and changes them into nice, pretty thoughts, with lots of flowers.
We’ll have him writing for us in no time!

*Ooh! The Neverending Story manages to rip off both Birth of a Mercenary three AND Red Alert Two in the same section! Will more copyright infringement follow? Who will win the Clone Wars? Will more blatant political jokes insue because of the destruction of the Capital Dome? Ooh… it’s just SO exiting!*


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May the Windex be with you
-Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)

[This message has been edited by Janitor Bob (edited August 19, 2001).]

(NSP: I'm back and holy cheese-and-crackers!, NeS has been going at it, and how funny it's been too! I thought your NeS trailer was one of the funniest things I've seen here yet, Janitor Bob (course, I have to be bias, I did one before as well... ). Anywhos, I suppose a story post would be nice, eh? Well, you'll have to wait. Until then...)

B.U.M.P.

Another presentation, sponsored by the Benevolent Upward Mobility Post Coorperation and Coca-Cola Company (if only they knew we were the reason a large portion of their profits were dissapering...)

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~Geb

(Good stuff. With the start of school, I haven't had time to post, and probably won't until soccer season is over.)

...
I...uh...
I think this is the wrong thread or something...But I'm very afraid.

------------------
I created the most popular toilet 3do ever!
http://files.massassi.net/3do/toilet2.zip

No, no, Pengun, you have to read the entire thing before you can rightfully judge it...

------------------
May the Windex be with you
-Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)

GTW: "What are you doing to me with this extrodinarilly complex device cryptically labeled: 'Overly complex device designed specifically to trap Geb in a long, drawn out death while simultaniously opening a gaping hole between the writers' realm and the heros' realm to permit Original Last True Evil (note the explicit lack of abbriviation), and his company of clones to take over the heros' realm and finally crush NESianity and the Arean sect'?

OLTE: "I'm trapping you in a long, drawn out death while simultaniously opening a gaping hole between the writers' realm and the heros' realm to permit me, Original Last True Evil (note the explicit lack of abbriviation), and my company of clones to take over the heros' realm and finally crush NESianity and the Arean sect!"

GTW: "Oh."

A large mystical swirl opens at one end of the device, which thanks to a convinient writer's short-cut, defies description. Through the portal, with a great deal of comotion, comes a giant trash can.

OLTE: "What the living shazbot is that!?!?"

GTW: "GONK2M4!!! Wow! Long-time no see buddy, wow!"

OLTE: "Sieze that!"

Unfortunately for OLTE, the sedative given to Gonk2m4 on page 9 has long since worn off, and, at this new provocation, Gonk2m4 revs to an incredible 500k GPS (Gonks per second).

Gonk2m4 leaps to free GTW from the machine, and carries him back through the mystical swirl. The machine robbed of it's power, the mystical swirl collapeses and GTW's escape is made good.

OLTE: "Minor setback. A few hours at most."

Egad! How many hours does OLTE mean by 'a few'? Does he intend to recover from this setback on the hour? Half-hour? Hour plus three minutes and twenty seven seconds? And what about Geb? Will he appear back with Gonk2m4 on page nine? Will Gonk2m4 appear on page twenty-three? If a tree falls in a forest, and hits a mime, does anybody care? This and more in the next edition of NES.

------------------
The early bird may get the worm-
but it's the second mouse who gets the cheeze.

Omnia quae specto dominavi, et tantam magnus sum, ut non specto!