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Thread: The Never-ending Story Thread

  1. #921
    Mopping Up Since 2000
    [NSP: First of all I want to apologize for the pathetic nature of this post. I'm kinda in a 'unfunny' mode right now. I just wanted to advance the "plot" a little bit]

    *Meanwhile… in the heroes realm*

    Masseto: Okay. Were back here, in the city…

    *Masseto sees an anvil tottering off the edge of a nearby building*

    Masseto: That wishes to remain anonymous. Now what do we do?

    Geb: Well I supposed we could just wait till we get attacked or something. That’s what we usually do.

    Losien: Hey, has anyone seen the Last True Evil, the Hero?

    *Seconds later, a blinding flash occurs and the heroes find themselves circled by at least twenty… figures. The figures are dressed in long flowing druid’s robes; hoods cover their faces Darth Sidious style, they simultaneously reach into their oversized sleeves and draw out various weapons. Guns, Knives, Grenades, Scythes, staffs, and cooking utensils. They all stare at our heroes with villainous intent.*

    *Krig sticks out his hairy Viking hand in an attempt to be friendly*

    Krig: Me name Krig. Who you nice people?

    *The hooded figures look up and respond in a haunting, raspy voice, simultaneously. The echo reverberates throughout the town.*

    Hooded Figures: We are The Last True Evils of the Sacred Order of Light- Intent on Sacrificing Breathing Livestock By the Light Of A Full Moon And Drinking It’s Blood. But you will call us TLTEOTSOOLIOSBLBTLOAFMADIB!

    Krig: Nice meet you, Hooded Figures.

    Hooded Figures: You… you… are the heroes prophesied by the sacred and holy scrolls of Nostrodamus. You shall die as it is commanded to us by our bloodthirsty hands, this very morn!

    Cooked Haggis: Bloodthirsty hands?

    Hooded Figures: Silence, skeptical heathen!

    Losien: We’re not Heathens. We’re Nestians!

    *The Hooded Figures raise their weapons and start uttering an oscillating moaning chant*

    Randy: Wait! Before you kill us, can you at least tell us where we are.

    Hooded Figures: We…. are… in… the chosen… city… of…

    *Anvils materialize from the sky, fall and crush each Hooded Figure*

    Geb: Quick thinking, Randy. So, it looks like a new menace has infiltrated the heroes realm. And from the looks of the NES cliff notes, they appear to be Evil Clones of the Last True Evil.

    Masseto: Aw, Clone, Shmone. We can stop them.

    Geb: Yeah, well, we may be invincible, powerful, and good looking, but even WE can’t stop this Clone Menace by ourselves. We’ll need help.

    Sem: Are you thinking what I’m thinking Geb?
    Maybe: Yep. The number’s (216) 666-6666.

    *In the Canadian Governmental Place, the High Demon rubs his hands chuckling softly, thinking up of new evil laws to write into existence*

    High Demon: And we’ll make spitting on sidewalks illegal! Mwa ha ha.

    *Suddenly the phone rings*

    High Demon: Well, get the phone.

    Secretary of the Interior: Um… you know, Mr. High Demon, the Secretary of the Interiors job does not consist of answering the phone.

    High Demon: I know that, idiot. It also consists of writing memos for me.

    *The secretary sighs and picks up the phone and gives it to the High Demon*

    High Demon: Oh, It’s probably just Satan again, with another bloody performance review… Hello?

    Sem: Uh… hi, is this the Demon residence?

    High Demon: Yes it is. May I ask who’s calling?

    Sem: That’s not important right now. What is important, is that I have some bad news to give to you.

    High Demon: This better be important. I’m on a per-minute calling plan here.

    Sem: Well, you want world domination, correct?

    High Demon: Well, of course. Doesn’t everybody.

    Sem: Yes, especially The Last True Evil. Never heard of him? Well, he’s the man who went beyond simply wanting World Domination, and actually did something about it. He almost has world domination.

    High Demon: What!

    Sem: Yup. While you were busy reforming Social Security they was taking over the world. You may be able to stop him, and still achieve absolute power for yourself. Better hurry. Well, I have to go now. Bye.

    High Demon: Wait… wait! I need more information!

    *The High Demon is rewarded only with a dial tone*

    High Demon: Mr. Secretary of the Interior! I want a task force on this immediately!

    *Meanwhile, in the writers realm*

    *Janitor Bob opens his eyes to see once again the crazed face of... Head Guy. But his eyes look red, blood-shot, and sleep deprived. They look sucken back and distant as if something has been occuping his mind for days that he doesn't understand. Either that or he went out and bought those new 'Darth Maul' contact lenses.*

    Janitor Bob the Writer: Okay, I’m ducttaped to a chair in your conference room again. This better be important.

    Assistant: Yes, Head Guy, I’m curious to the nature of this meeting as well.

    Head Guy: Oh, it’s just that I was drinking last night and I had an incredible idea!

    Bob the writer *dryly*: Really. You can just see how excited I am to hear it.

    Head Guy: Well, I was thinking, the title ‘NeverEnding Story’ seems too, well, it gives the impression of Never-Endingness.

    Bob: I wonder why.

    Head Guy: So I was thinking, in the story, there’s like Clones, right? And they’re like attacking, y’know?

    Bob the writer: Well, yeah, but I’m not sure I like where this is leading.

    Head Guy: Well, in a fit of inspirational ingenuity, in the spirit ‘fun’ and ‘delirium’ and harkening back to the days of sci-fi pulps with horrible plots, bad writing, and even worse titles, I have decided to rename the story: ‘Attack of the Clones’.

    Bob the writer: But… but… that’s… it’s… the most nefariously stupid idea I’ve ever heard…

    Head Guy: Hee hee haw haw! Exactly! And then… heh heh… then we’ll find out that Sem is actually Maybe’s sister!

    Assistant: Oh, no. I knew something like this would happen?

    Bob the writer: What?

    Assistant: The lack of viewership and the stress… its caused his mind to, well, snap. He’s completely and totally nuts.

    *The Assistant sprints away, and dives out of a closed window.*

    Bob the writer: It’s times like this that I wish I wasn’t tied to a chair with duct-tape…

    *Realm: Writers. Location: The Jasper National Park Golf Course in Canada. Situation: Volatile*

    *Hole 18. Two armies are on either side of the fairway, staring each other down, hands nervously fingering the triggers on their weapons. Both sides have a massive formation of loyal soldiers, tanks of all shapes, sizes, and nationalities, and hulking artillery. But there is something… different… about these armies. Or rather something… suspiciously the same. On one side stands an army of thousands of Last True Evil soldiers, and on the other… hundreds of Ares’ clones. There are more Last True Evils but the fact that the Ares’ Clones, are clones of a god of war, gives them a slight advantage.*

    *Each side readys for battle. The artillery men shove shells into their guns, the tanks roll into position, and the soldiers pick their noses.*

    TLTETIG (The Last True Evil the Inspirational General): DISCIPLINE! We need more DISCIPLINE. If we are going to WIN this battle, and thus WIN the world, we can’t be squandering around like a bunch of sissified sissies! We need to come to order. Fight to Kill! Kill to Win! Win to Triumph!

    Ares’ Clone General: *Yawn* Well. Looks like it’s another battle. Guess, *sigh* we shall have to defeat these idiots once again. Get ready… for a really… *yawn* exciting time.

    TLTETIG:… so go out there, and MAKE ME PROUD. Remember, don’t fire until you see the whites of their FEAR STRICKEN… BLOODSHOT… eyes!

    *All the Ares’ Clones close their eyes*

    TLTETIG: Okay. I take that back .Fire when in range. But make sure you don’t waste ammunition! We are expendable. Our ammunition… is not!

    Ares’ Clone general: Remember. The objective of this pointless battle is not to die for [/i]your[i] er… country… but to make the other side... get killed a lot and stuff… or something like that… * voice trails off*

    TLTETIG: Dig, men DIG!

    TLTE the soldiers: Huh?

    TLTETIG: Don’t question my authority. Take away their liberty… and give them death!

    *The Soviet Clones cheer and jack shells into their guns*

    *Several of Ares’ clones lay down to take a nap*

    *Both sides stare down the fairway intently, thirsty for carnage, but neither side dares to take the first shot*

    *As if on cue (which it was) a golf ball soars through the air and hits TLTETIG in the head*

    TLTETIG: Who fired that…

    *He looks around and then guessing that it was an assassination attempt by the enemy gives the command*


    *Artillery shells arc through the air

    Ares’ clone: Go ahead. Kill them.


    *The golf course is lit up with Pyrotechnics and the sounds of War*

    *Yet another escalation of the ‘plot’! Which clone will triumph? The slow and methodical or the wreckless and power-hungry? How did the Clones get into the hero realm. Oh no! Does that mean that our lovable Gonk2m4 the writer has been captured and forced to suffer through the newly invented 'Overly complex device designed specifically to trap Gonk 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'? Does Canada even HAVE a Secretary of State? All this… and more… on the *sigh* exciting… fun-filled adventure of NES

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

    [This message has been edited by Janitor Bob (edited August 26, 2001).]
    "Your entire base belongs to us."
    "It would be highly appreciated if someone would set the bomb up for us"
    "Launch all of our ships, christened 'Zigs', to insure that justice will be achieved swiftly and powerfully."

  2. #922
    Annoyed Audience Member: Hang on!


    AAM: Are you trying to be hopelessly predictable?

    What do you mean?

    AAM: I can easily tell you how this little escapade will end!

    Oh yeah? How?

    AAM: Right...first, an Ares clone will emerge that is stronger, faster and smarter than all the others, who will claim to be the resurrected true Ares..

    Go on....

    AAM: Naturally, the army of LTE's get into the Heroes' Realm, followed by all of the other writers and finally Gebohq himself, who miraculously doesn't get brain damage...

    You've been reading the script, haven't you?

    AAM: No! It's that predictable!

    Bah. Go on...

    AAM: There'll be an Armaggeddon-esque battle sequence in which all the writers and heroes, either always just missing each other or conversely meeting each other and growing to despise their alter egos, fight their way through the warring LTE's and Arean clones (with High Demon in the background smashing them both) to some bog-standard castle or reactor core...

    Well...maybe. But I BET you don't know how it ends...

    AAM: HA! That's the most predictable bit! The major characters will all meet in a conveniently-placed arena, and whilst the uninvoled major characters rush off to save the day and both Realms, key parties in this plot (say, both Michael McFarlanes, Losiens, Gebohqs, the uber-Ares, TLTETW, TLTETH, TLTENTW and OLTE) will rush off to do battle.

    Keep talking...

    AAM: At first, it will be your classic all-on-all battle, with the NeS Writers vs. the LTE's vs. the uber-Ares.

    Then, in a completely hackneyed twist, The Last True Evils, being Heroes and Writers at heart, apologise for their sins and ally with the Writers against the true evil, the Ares clone.

    The ensuing 10-on-1 battle would be epic, if it hadn't been done a zillion times. It's your classic Duel of the Fates meets Romeo Must Die meets Lethal Weapon Quadrology, with the classic NeS humour spread throughout. Then, somehow, the NeS writers, being the Obi-Wan Kenobis of the battle, get separated or knocked out or something, and the Last True Evils go ahead and do battle on their own.

    Soon, only OLTE and uber-Ares are still standing, and OLTE gives his life in some silly, pointless way that destroys the uber-Ares and wipes out all the clones too.

    Only TLTETW and TLTETH are revived, and solemnly swear never to attempt world domination again. They all walk off into the sunset, yada yada guys are pathetic!

    Oh yeah?

    AAM: Yeah!

    Oh yeah?

    AAM: Yeah! got lucky!

    AAM: Are you kidding?? I know EVERYTHING about this story, every little shtick and detail...

    OH REALLY? Then what's the name of the city the heroes live in?

    AAM: It's- (cuts himself off)

    Yeah? Don't know, do you?


    So shut up!

    (NSP: I'll be back with some ACTUAL content later... )

    [This message has been edited by The Last True Evil (edited August 21, 2001).]
    The Last True Evil - consistent nobody in the Discussion Forum since 1998

  3. #923
    (NSP: And now, the post of the century of the week!)

    AAM: So, what now, Mr. "I'm so cool Narrator"?

    Well, since you told all(2) of the readers out there the whole plot with the "Attack of the Clones", I have no choice but to skip it and go on.

    AAM: You mean you're too lazy and incompetant to write it, right?

    Who's the omnicient one here? That's right, not you! So after many action-packed scenes too er...action-packed to describe to you puny readers, our writers find themselves back in their offices at Massassi, once again simply writing for what we know as "The Neverending Story", and our hereos go off on more zany adventures.

    ...oh fine, I'll give you some "flashback clips" or something.

    ~~~~~~~~(flashback waves)~~~~~~~~~

    OLTE: Have we found a replacement to take Geb the writer's place?

    TLTETSL (The Last True Evil the spineless lackey): Y-y-yes sir. He s-s-seems to be called p-p-poster G-g-eb. He's a real religious nut!

    OLTE: Right then. Why do I feel like this guy is going to be yet another that goes into the heroes' realm without myself or any of the clones?

    ~~~~~~~~~~~(end of flashback)~~~~~~~~~~

    Yeup, that's all you get. Perhaps some other time you'll get more, but I highly doubt it. Without further delay, we enter, the NeS realm! (aka the heroes' realm)

    Gonk2m4: Gonk-gonkgonk.

    Geb the writer: What-the? It's page nine, back in the...

    A bit farther away, out of their view, the hereos stand. Well, nearly all--Gebohq fell to his knees.

    Gebohq: DAMN THIS ARENA! I wish it would go to hell and DIE!

    Krig: Krig sense great Evil now.

    Michael McLongname: I'm confused, I thought this place was digitized.

    Maybechild: I thought this place blew up.

    Semievil: I thought this place had reached its maximum number of appearances it could make.

    Janitor Bob: And who's this new guy?

    Guy next to Janitor Bob: I'm poster Geb. I'm here to bring a level of Nesian morality to any situation we come by.

    TLTE: Riiiiiight.

    Antestarr: So I get to talk next, right?

    Gebohq: No, it's a round robin--there were 2 others before you, but now you'll have to wait. Being the self-declared leader, I can speak whenever I want as long as I declare it for the better of the group.

    Losien: So what now?

    Gebohq: Guess we'll have to fight evils of the world in this god-aweful place.

    Randy: But weren't we just doing that? And in much more intriguing places?

    CookedHaggis: Who says we have to fight at all? It's not like the others watching are interested in us more than the writer-gods.

    Phantom_Master: (in a er...phantom accent) We must do what comes most natural to us!

    Masetto: Sleep?

    Gebohq: With fine looking women?

    Maybechild: *ahem*

    Gebohq: What? Oh yeah, women with each other is something I want...

    Michael McLongname: I think he means to bring back a more Star Wars style to our senerios.

    ->Enter "Darkside", Darth Bad, and Dart Wader.

    Gebohq: Where's a savior when you need one?

    ->Enter Geb the writer and Gonk2m4

    Geb the writer: OK, how do I get out of this place.

    Poster Geb: Behold, our lord and savior, Gebohq Nest!

    Is Geb the writer our heroes' savior? How long will it be before all these Geb's become nearly as confusing as all the clones of TLTE. Can the story revert back to the "good ol' days" when our heroes battled bad guys pure DM style with a Star Wars-esque feel and bad sex jokes, or will the lives of the writers themselves be more compelling once again? How much cheaper could this post have been for trying to turn the story's focus so quickly? I'm starting to think ANYTHING can happen with these guys, right here, in THE NEVERENDING STORY THREAD!

    (NSP: Hopefully with less stuff going on, I can focus more on being funny rather than keeping some semblance of cause and effect from going out of whack, though if you wish it, a mystical swirl can take everyone back to the post before mine and er...something. The main idea was to just focus more on the heroes, and to keep the plot near-non-existant Otherwise, I might have to keep cliffnotes on this stuff...)


    [This message has been edited by Gebohq (edited August 22, 2001).]
    The Plothole: a home for amateur, inclusive, collaborative stories

  4. #924
    We interrupt our regularly scheduled program to bring you...NeS on ice!

    A mass of characters from the Neverending Story Thread skate into the icy arena (in hte middle of a volcano still). Krig is suprisingly graceful, being a Northman, while others, such as Geb, are having difficulty not running into the walls on the side. Janitor Bob sweeps all the ice bits cut from teh skates with his pushbroom. For the viewer's enjoyment, Losien is still only wearing a white T-shirt and shorts (and she meanwhile is freezing her buns off).

    As all the cast members enter the Ice Arena though, it becomes too crowded, and nobody can move. The show on ice comes to a complete halt as Morris is the last one to walk on. As he does so, the ice breaks, and everyone falls into freezing water.

    We now er...return to our regularly scheduled pro--*off to the side* What do you mean "you need more time? That's all we could buy! Just make up something off the top of your head, just as long as it's funny! Those idiotic readers won't know the difference. *clears throat* And now, the next edition of The Neverending Story Thread!

    The Plothole: a home for amateur, inclusive, collaborative stories

  5. #925
    Mopping Up Since 2000

    Pardon me, but I must disagree.

    [dramatic music starts playing]

    While I admit the need to bring a close to all things clone and the overuse of writers as characters, I do not agree that we should revert to the DeathMatch style so prevelant in NES. Upon reading all 24 pages of the story I have found a dramatic improvement in the humor, in the writing, and in the plot.

    Yes, plot. While we all jest about 'NES having no plot' we all know that not to be true. At least in the last 15 or so pages. The plot is crazy, zany, and unpredicatble, as it should be for an off-the-wall comedy. But what it shouldn't be is... formulaic. That's what it seemed like in the first few pages of the story. I mean- you can only have so many battles in the same location without tiring out a good joke. When the holy hand remote was introduced into the story the story- I felt- was improved exponetially. The story became fun and exiting to read- and not just funny. As a comedy should be.

    I believe NES should be the Massassian version of Command Chambers ANS, the plot similar to a Monty Python movie. I realise that I am only a newbie writer but I feel that we should not continue to wallow in the depths of the arena, that the writers should not be involved as much as previously- but should still be involved to some extent. I have found that having several different plots, several different arenas where battles are happening (allusion not intended) makes writing easier, and lessens writer block. Again, obviously, Geb and the other veterans have the final say but...

    That's all I have to say.

    [dramatic music ends]

    (Smiley face to insure that my speech didn't wreck anybody's day )

    [edit: Whoops! Sorry!]

    [This message has been edited by Janitor Bob (edited August 23, 2001).]
    "Your entire base belongs to us."
    "It would be highly appreciated if someone would set the bomb up for us"
    "Launch all of our ships, christened 'Zigs', to insure that justice will be achieved swiftly and powerfully."

  6. #926
    (NSP: eeerm, J-Bob? I think you forgot to slap an *NSP* sticker on that last post... =P I thought it was a story post for a minute.)

    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!
    In Soviet ISB, NeS writes YOU!

  7. #927
    Sem: "Page nine, page nine... what happened on page nine guys, try to remember..."

    Geb: "I can't remember what I had for breakfast"

    GTW: "That's because we never worte about your breakfast. As a matter of fact, I don't think any of the heros have eaten for pages now."

    Krig: "Krig remember... cheese! page ten! not far!"

    Suddenly the heros (and their faithful writer copmanion) pop out of the green background of page nine. Taking for granted that no-one will see them, as no-one has looked at that area of the story for months, the band makes it's way up to the top of the page where Krig smashes the page 10 hyperlink with his helmet. The page (for once) loads quickly and the unlikely party find themselves back in the Arena.

    Sem: "Krig do you remember anything bad about the cheese? For some reason I feel like we should look for some other food. A premonition of sorts."

    Krig: "Follow Krig! This way!"

    Krig finds the cheese, now labeled "=AT M|" because of the chunks missing from either side, and divides it evenly among the group.

    As the group chows down, Sem ponders what it is that he can't remember.

    Sem: "Have it now does Sem! Yodafied will we be! NOOOOOO!!! Yodafied we ARE! The story-writers bastards are!!!! errr... the present company excepted is."

    And indeed they were (yodafied, not bastards).

    Egad! What now!?!? Will the Heros remain yodafied for good this time? Will Geb's next post reflect his writer's yodafication? Is it possible to abbriviate 'yodafication'? And what of the plot? *FLUSH* Is it doomed to repeat itself all the way back to the present, or will our heros make a mad-dash all the way back to page twenty-four? Find out now! Yes, that's right! Now by frantically clicking 'Refreash page' until the next post!

    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 August 23, 2001).]
    In Soviet ISB, NeS writes YOU!

  8. #928
    forums' resident drunk scotI
    <font face="Verdana, Arial" size="2">I believe NES should be the Massassian version of Command Chambers ANS, the plot similar to a Monty Python movie</font>
    Someone actually read the first ANS? Crikey.

    That said, NeS started before ANS, which would technically mean that NeS should be the Massassi version of the TACC version of Massassi's version, but that'll just confuse things....

    Anyway, as for the whole new (or rather, old) story/writing twist, I have to say that I really preferred the writer's realm (I like the slight basis in reality), especially since the hero's realm tends to contain a lot of action sequences, things that I can't write well at all.

    Plus the return to "Old-School" NeS is kind of a blow for newbie writer's like me- anything before the 16/17 page is pretty meaningless (gasps from all the writers that anyone would dare post without having read all of it...]

  9. #929
    (NSP: Sem has persuaded me to write this into a story post, as oppose to the e-mail I sent ya all)

    Egad! Horrible, my speaking is! Write better, the writers could! I sense much sloth in these writers, yes! Sloth leads to apathy, apathy leads to bad posts, bad posts leads to suffering...for these readers and I. Help you, will I! Make suggestions I will! Take you to better story, yes, hehehe...

    Jobs, our hereos could have, yes. Action, heh, fighting, heh. A hero craves not these things. Food, yes. Good food and place to sleep, that is what a hero strives for, mm-hm! Seeking on their own, a hero should. At fast food, Krig could be. A master of the custodial arts, such like Bob, could choose the easy path, or look harder for hidden skills. Much funny, if one chooses this path.

    Follow the ways of Nesianity, our heroes could. Go to Rome, they must, and fight against those who deny them their Holy Land. Get caught with followers who wish to do so, at least. Meet women famous for their moutashes, eat such food that makes heroes big, be afraid where the missles land. Be very afraid...

    Travel the world, our heroes could do as well. Canada, Tijuana, Hawaii, the Orient, the U.K., Disney World. Places where no hero has gone before. Battle the Tiki gods, Ares could, or the other CookedHaggis, they could find. Remember, fluids flow threw our heroes. Pit breaks, they must have if one is to choose this path.

    Yoda, our heroes could seek, in hopes of becoming wise in the way of this speak. Hitchhike on a Star Destroyer, they could. Start their own saga, or follow the ways of the parody. Stick strictly with Star Wars, the heroes do not have to do. Realms like ANS, Shadows of Darkness, The Eternal War, the spooky taco. Uncertain, the future of these stories would be with our hereos in them.

    Down the dark side of comedy our hereos could choose, or satire their ally could be. Whatever their choice be, the NeS spirit will always be with them. Forgot not their roots, nor the power of the writers. Forget not the realm of the writers, but heroes they are not! Bastards, the writers are! Remember that well. Hurts, my head does, from speaking such.

    Hero's realm, this scene take place...

    Writer, this Geb is: Speak and write must I this way forever?

    Sem: Afraid so, think I.

    Krig: Hungry Krig is. Understood more, Krig is oddly...

    Randy: Female, I only wish not to be in our future.

    Gonk2m4: Gonk-gonk, gonkgonk-gonk.

    Losien: Agree, I do. My fault, this must be.

    Longname, this Michael has: Wrong, you are.

    TE,TLHI(True Evil, The Last he is): Evil, our situation be...

    Save them, who will? Which path they take, I wonder? In next post of The story thread that never ends, you will find out. Yes, find out you will!


    (NSP: Ow, that hurt to type...)

    [This message has been edited by Gebohq (edited August 24, 2001).]

    [This message has been edited by Gebohq (edited August 24, 2001).]
    The Plothole: a home for amateur, inclusive, collaborative stories

  10. #930
    forums' resident drunk scotI
    [NSP (again):
    <font face="Verdana, Arial" size="2">Hitchhike on a Star Destroyer</font>
    That's an Interactive Story al by itself- "The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy far, far away..."]

  11. #931
    &lt; I HAVE been away far too long :0 &gt;

    In the writers realm:

    Randy: No, that's not right...we can't just give into the whole "Star Wars" franchise. Look at what happened to Episode one.

    * All shudder *

    Randy: Right, so let's un-yodafy our heroes and plot a diffrent course.

    Geb: Well that's a great idea Randy! What idea did you have on mind?

    Randy: Uhhh....I was kinda hopin' you would fill that blank.

    All: &lt;sigh&gt;

    &lt; Our writers begin scratching their heads as they try to find a plot. Randy sits in front of his system, face against the screen, pushing random keys on the keyboard when... &gt;

    Randy: Inspiration!!!

    Maybe: What?

    &lt; All gather 'round to see what crack-brained scheme has been cooked up this time..&gt;

    Randy: First, we need to un-yodafy our heroes...

    * In the heros realm *
    &lt; There is a classic Star Wars screen wipe and our heroes sit in a now famous cantina, un-yodafied, and in traditional Star Wars garb. &gt;

    Sem: My face!!! I can feel my nose again!!!

    Maybe(jumping up and down): I'M NOT GREEN AND HAIRY..YAAAAYYYY!!!!

    Krig: Krig no understand anyony any more.

    * Back with the writers *

    Randy: Ok, now we need a plot.

    Otter: What is this thing you call plot?

    Randy: &lt;sigh&gt;

    * Back with the heroes *

    Geb: So what'cha wanna do?

    Sem: I don't know, what you wanna do?

    Otter: Let's give Vader a wedgy!!!

    Cooked: No, Dark Jedi get kinda angry when that happens.

    Phantom (in a ghetto accent): Yo, why don't we go jack a Star Destroyer or sumthin, joo know what I'm sayin' foo?

    Randy: Well, considering this is a story and that stormtroopers a notoriously inaccurate, I say we try it.

    Geb: It is more fesable than the Vader-Wedgy thing.

    Otter: Pooh!!

    Sem: Joy riding in a ISD...

    All: LET'S DO IT!!

    &lt; Now that a tangent has started, will our heroes get out of these duldrums and back on the fast track of writing "success"? Tune in next time for the next smashing installment... &gt;

    "Build a better level, and the JK community will beat a path to your door." - Randy

  12. #932
    forums' resident drunk scotI
    *Hereos' realm*

    Sem: " exactly do we go about stealing a star destroyer?"

    Geb: "Simple. First we need an ISD orbiting the planet..."

    *By sheer coincidence, an Imperial Star Destroyer takes up a position orbiting the planet*

    Geb: "...and second, we need a PET."

    Krig: "Krig have bunny rabbit."

    Geb: "No, PET as in Personal Electronic Thing. For hitching a lift aboard spacecraft."

    Krig: "Krig sense plaugerism..."

    *Using the PET (not Krig's rabbit), the hereos manage to stow aboard the ISD, which, happened to be clearing a path for a hyperspace bypass. But that's neither important nor relevant (unless of course you happen to live in the way of the bypass, but that's a different story....which has been done infinitely better by someone else)*

    Otter: "Great, so we're onboard the ship. What now?"

    Phantom (cockney accent): "Sim'le, we ge' to the cockpi', then we find the neares' control panel an' 'otwire this puppy. Unless it all goes pear shaped on the way there, in which case, the jam will be seve'ly ta'en ou' of our doughnt. Know wha' I mean?"

    All: "Uh..."

    Phantom (Geordie accent): "Aye man, like, what we is, like, we hotwire it like. Then we'll be all like; 'Wa'aye Man!'"

    Otter: "But does anyone actually know how to hotwire an ISD? Or how to eliminate an entire crew of Imperial officers?"

    Geb: "Well I don't know about the first part, but if there's anything we do know a lot about, it's how to get rid of large amounts of faceless bad guys..."

  13. #933
    (NSP: Good post Randy, hope you don't mind the direction of this post. Course, if you do, feel free to tell me so I can er...delete this or somethin'.)

    At Earth, an ISD descends towards the surface. Stopping at merely a few meters off the ground, the ISD opens a small hangar door. All of our heroes promptly fly out the door and land with less-than-graceful "thuds". An Imperial officer voice can be heard, saying "And stay off, you hitch-hiking scum!" With that, the door closed and the ISD sped off, back into space.

    Randy: Well, so much for joy-riding.

    Sem: Why didn't you write us out of the situation, writer-god Geb?

    Geb the writer: I did! We would have been killed if we stayed on that thing. Besides, I hate those guys.

    CookedHaggis: So what now?

    Masetto: Yeah, I'm hungry!

    Ante: We seem to be somewhere in the Orient. Japan perhaps.

    Maybe: Well, we're kind of money-challanged right now to get any sort of food or shelter--

    J-bob: I thought heroes didn't need things like food or sleep or pit breaks.

    TLTE: Who says we're heroes?

    Maybe: The point is, we need these things, and we can't get them unless we have jobs.

    A the mention of "jobs", half the heroes nearly fainted from a close heart attack.

    Los: But I'm useless. What kind of job can I get?

    Maybe: That will be for you to decide. We should each get our own jobs, and then when we each get at least 5 grand (or by page 30, whichever comes first), we can meet back together somewhere, like the U.K...

    Phantom Master: (in Chris Rock voice) That's kinda big, isn't it hun?

    Maybe: Do I hear you helping? Anyways, we can then take a well needed vacation somewhere. Canada, Disneyworld, Hawaii--

    Otter: Tijuana!

    Maybe: --*ahem* but we'll decide on that later.

    Geb the writer: What about me?

    Maybe: Just bugger off, why don't you? Or better yet, be useful and get a job too. That goes for you too, poster Geb!

    Poster Geb: Oh-oh! Can I join a terrorist group of fellow Nesianity converts and reclaim the Holy Lands in our name?

    Maybe: Uh...sure. There's a nearby Orient city, and probably an airport. Good luck to you all.

    Krig: Krig confused...

    (NSP: I managed to hint at or include nearly all the suggestions, yay me! Remember, the heroes are all poor, and homeless. Feel free to join in with a small group, and feel free to write for the characters who aren't written for like Otter. You all have my permission to give jobs to any of my characters as well, since I start moving into college tomorrow. Hope this turns out alright...)

    The Plothole: a home for amateur, inclusive, collaborative stories

  14. #934
    *Howard P. Hifflemiffer, of the Hifflemiffer, Mifflehiffer and Kong Ltd. law firm sits in his high backed leather chair that all high-placed executives own. He leans over and pushes a button on his intercom thingy.*

    Howard P. Hifflemiffer: "Martha, send in that job applicant, would you please?"

    Martha: "Sir, he's been staring at me for the past twenty minutes, and every once in a while his eye twitches, and he keeps grumbling to himself about something..."

    Howard: "Just send him in, Martha."

    *Howard looks down at his desk and shuffles some papers around. The papers are blank and he has no reason to shuffle them around, but he does anyway. The door opens and closes, and he hears feet pad over the lush carpet, and the squeak of the chair as a bottom sits in it.*

    Howard: "Urm, now, Mister ah... Viking, is it? I..."

    *Howard looks up at the chair opposite his desk... Then down. The top of a horned helmet is visible above the edge of the desk. Howard leans forward and sees a small, dirty bearded man staring back at him. The small man grins, showing yellowish teeth with what looks like slivers of...wood....stuck to them.*

    Howard: "Uh...yes... Anyhow, your papers show that you've had several years education in a university called... Sailing? The Sailing University?"

    Krig: "Krig go sailing with Viking friends."

    Howard: "Uh, y---yes, all right. Now, under 'Previous Law Firm Experience,' you've written something called, ah, Ness? Nez?"

    Krig: "NES."

    Howard: "Right. Now, what kind of work did you do at this firm?"

    Krig: "Krig stop small furry creature who try to take over Christmas. He bad."

    Howard: "This was in a lawsuit?"

    Krig: "No, red suit. With fur on collar."

    Howard: "A redsuit....oh, you mean a countersuit. I swear, I'll never catch up with the slang of today's youth, eh? Ahehehehehehe..."

    *Krig looks blankly at Howard. Krig's left eye twitches.*

    Howard: "...hehe. Yes, well, anyhow, ahm....what makes you want to work here at Hifflemiffer, Mifflehiffer and Kong Ltd.?"

    Krig: "Krig hungry. Krig want food."

    Howard: "Ahehehehe, yes, don't we all? Well, Mr. Viking, your papers are impeccable--except here where under "Hobbies" you've written "Krig Smash"--and I'm sure we'll find a place for you here at Hifflemiffer, Mifflehiffer and Kong. Good luck, sir!"

    *Howard rises and extends his hand to shake. Krig looks at it for a moment, then grabs it and does a complicated series of handshake moves, ending with a twirl and a slap on the back--although because of Krig's height his slap lands more on the buttocks area. Krig grins, showing his yellowish teeth again.*

    Howard: "Er... Yes... Ask Martha for the details on when you start work and such..."

    *Krig leaves and Howard sinks down into his plush chair.*

    Howard: "These teenagers get stranger every day..."

    Whatever will happen to Krig in his new job? Will he be a surprisingly competent lawyer? Or will he simply eat things? Find out in a future episode of... THE NEVER ENDING STORY, ORY, Ory, ory, ory....

    Read the Bible, it'll scare the hell out of you.
    So sayest the Writer of Silly Things!

  15. #935
    Mopping Up Since 2000
    *After Krig wandered off muttering, "Krig file Libel suit" the other heroes go in search of a respectable dining establishment. Finally, after hours of being booted out of restaurants by large men named Hugo, the heroes finally find one that is cheap, and will accept them.*

    *The restaurant is located in the back alley of 'The Onion' and is simply a green, rectangular tub, with the words Waste Management written on them*

    Maybe: Are you sure we can't go to any other resteraunts?

    Otter: Well, no other resteraunt would accept Canadian quarters!

    Janitor Bob: Look at this place! It's a dump!

    Cooked Haggis: And it has unexcusable service as well.

    *Finally, after what seems like hours of waiting, a older woman walks up. She has her gray hair done up in a 'Beehive' and holds a menu with her oven mit. She has an apron on that says: GM*

    *Geb's mouth drops open, hitting their table.*

    Masseto: So... you to know eachother?

    Geb: MOM!

    Geb's Mom: GEB!

    Masseto: I guess so.

    Geb's Mom: Tsk, tsk, tsk. I told you that you could be out no later than 11:30. And now look what time it is. I'll have to talk to your father about this!

    Geb: You mean, Geb's Dad?

    Geb's Mom: Look at you! You're filthy. This place is a pit!

    Janitor Bob: That's what I said.

    Geb: Shut up, Bob.

    Geb's Mom: Watch your mouth young man! I can't believe you. What have you done with your life?

    Geb: Well... I've saved the entire planet 6 times, and the whole universe twice...

    Geb's Mom: And what have you to show for it? Nothing. You need to get a job!

    Losien: Ha! Geb, get a job...

    Geb's Mom: And you too, Losien. I should expect more out of my daughter. In fact all of you need to get off your lazy hedonistic posteriers and find work. That's an order!

    Otter: If...

    Masseto: And...

    Sem: But..

    Geb's Mom: No if's ands or but's. Well, you've made me late for a PTA board meeting.

    *With those final words, Geb's Mom jumps in her 1988 mini-van and drives off*

    Janitor Bob: Ha ha.

    Geb: Well, it's easy for you to say, Bob! You already have a job.

    *Janitor Bob glares angrily. He pounds his fist on the table breaking it. (The table. And his fist)*

    Janitor Bob: Well, I'm tired of it! It's always Clean this. Do that. Wipe the toilets. Scrub the ceiling. Reuphoulster the furniture And I'm sick of being bossed around. I'm sick of being all 'clean' and 'shiny'. I'm tired of being looked up to by millions of little punks as a ROLE MODEL... I... I... I want to blow stuff up!

    *Oh no! Will Janitor Bob become Demolitions Expert Bob? Will the others be able to find a Job? Will McDonalds even accept Geb, the way he smells? How many Prosecuting Attorneys has Krig axed already? See next time on NES: THE OCCUPATIONAL OUTLOOK HANDBOOK

    May the Windex be with you
    -Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)
    "Your entire base belongs to us."
    "It would be highly appreciated if someone would set the bomb up for us"
    "Launch all of our ships, christened 'Zigs', to insure that justice will be achieved swiftly and powerfully."

  16. #936
    Sem, meanwhile has slipped subtley away from the group.

    We find our hapless quazi-malicious hero in a middle-eastern museum, slinking among various bits of pottery and brassware. He is clad in an unusual ammount of black, even for Sem, and has all sorts of nifty criminal gadgets. After dodging several extrodrinarilly dense guards, he finds himself alone in a room with a magnificent gem, surrounded by four collumns, imbedded in which is a lazer security grid. Fortunately for maitinence, the collumns are just tall enough that no-one can see that the tops have not been dusted in five years.

    Sem pulls a fire-extinguisher from his crime-vest and uses it on the lazer grid, revealing a 3x2 hole, 4 feet off the ground in the grid. In a 1/2 Matrix, 1/2 Jackie Chan move, he leaps through, feet-first. Unfortunately, Sem had made a grievous error, and forgotten something outside.

    Leaping back through the hole, he deftly exited the lazer grid. Extracting a set of miniature surround-sound speakers from his vest, he sets one on top of each of the collumns, and they begin to play the 'Pink Panther" theme.

    Down the hall, one of the guards begins to play along with the percussion on one of the brass exibits. Leaping back through the lazer grid one last time, Sem removes the diamond from it's case and replaces it with a white glove with a rhinestone 'S' studded into it. Then Sem walks off. Right through the lazers.

    Alarms blare and guards come rushing in. When they see Sem, they all begin to laugh so hard, they fall over. Finally one of the guards regains enough composure to speak.

    Guard: "Ho ho! You certainly gave us a good laugh there with that one, and here we thought you'd stolen something! Haha, you'd better get out of here before you get into trouble."

    Sem: "But I have stolen something! I've stolen this diamond, as big as my fist!"

    Guard: "Ohh.. well we'll have to arrest you then."

    Sem: "Haha! Just kidding! I didn't really steal anything!"

    Guard: "Ohh.. I see. Well, run along then!"

    Sem does so, and runs into the first pawn shop he sees.

    Sem: "I need five-thousand dollars and a replacement portable surround-sound system for this diamond, quick!"

    Pawn shop owner: "Ok, ermn, but I only have 1 Lyra bills, is that all right?"

    Sem sits down and starts to cry as the shop owner begins to count.

    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!
    In Soviet ISB, NeS writes YOU!

  17. #937
    *Heroes Realm*

    TLTETH: Now that my evil plans were destroyed in a series of less-than-convincing flashbacks...

    *He coughs blatantly at Geb, who is still too shocked after the encounter with his mother to notice.*

    TLTETH:...I need something to make me proud again. Oh well, at least I have the strangest accent in the NeS to my name.

    Voice: Excwuse me, I beg to deefer..

    *TLTETH spins to see Dart Wader, laughing maniacally.*

    TLTETH: So...comrade Wader...we meet at last.

    Dart Wader: Ho-HO! Seelly wussian...

    TLETH: You insult my country, my family, and my very being by that comment, tovarish. Retract it immediately!

    Dart Wader: Wascally wussians...ho ho ho...

    *He doubles over twice, first for laughing, the second in light of TLTETH's steel-capped boot.*

    TLTETH: That'll teach you! Russians are fiercely patriotic!

    *Feeling roused for patriotism, he genuflects the sign of the hammer and sickle, and begins singing the Russian anthem. Wader takes the chance to punch him, sending him flying over the table the heroes are seated at. The heroes don't notice, continuing their conversations even as the bulky frame of Dart Wader leaps over in pursuit.*

    Dart Wader: Sah-wwender to my foweign might!

    *TLTETH pulls himself up slowly to his feet.*

    TLTETH: In Russia, we have a saying;

    *The following sentence is so awe-inspiring, thought-provoking, funny and's too good for this story, and is not printed. Regardless, you'd all be laughing, crying and cheering now if it was. Er..anyway, TLTETH pulls out a Russian scimitar.*

    TLTETH: Ha-HA!

    *Dart Wader produces a lightsaber.*

    Wader: AHwww-HAww!!

    *In response, TLTETH pulls out ye olde lightstaff.*

    TLTETH: Ha-HA!

    *Dart Wader goes for his next, even better weapon, and the war of attrition is on...*
    The Last True Evil - consistent nobody in the Discussion Forum since 1998

  18. #938
    &lt;* Thanks Geb, at least we know where in the universe we now are... *&gt;

    &lt; Our heros take off on their "mission". Randy stands in the center of a park in Tokyo, taking in the surroundings he has been deposited in... &gt;

    Randy: I have finally made it...I'm in......THE ANIME CAPITAL OF THE UNIVERSE!!!!!

    &lt;In a seeming fit of insanity Randy races off into the city...&gt;

    Losien: Wait! You don't...have..any money...

    Maybe: Don't worry about him, he'll be back.

    &lt;Meanwhile, (NSP count &gt;= 600) in a local comic shop Randy gazes at the unending variety of Anime, Manga, and related items. Upon noticing the prices on the tags his heart sinks as he realizes...&gt;

    Randy: I have no money...

    &lt; With a heavy heart, Randy leaves the shop and shuffles off down the crowded street... &gt;

    Randy: This bites. I have no food, no money, and no job. The only job I've had in the past was military service, but...I don't think that will help me here... &lt;sigh&gt;

    &lt; Just then, while Randy wasn't looking, a Japanese man dressed in an Armani suit bumps into him. Flustered and slightly upset the man glares at Randy, but his expression changes...&gt;

    Business Man(in broken English): You need job?

    Randy: Yes...yes I do.

    Business Man: Ok, you come with me. I give you job.

    &lt; With that the man waves Randy to follow him. Climbling aboard a train, they travel to the man's destination. During the entire trip the man is on his cell phone talking to the other party (in Japanese of course) occasionally looking at Randy. Understandably, this makes Randy slightly unconfortable. &gt;

    Randy:* I wonder what this little guy has planned?*

    &lt; The man looks at Randy and grins &gt;

    Randy:* Uhhh...I better stay on guard. *

    &lt; What has Randy gotten himself into? Will our heroes complete the goals they set out? These and still more unanswered questions in our next exciting installment...&gt;

    "Build a better level, and the JK community will beat a path to your door." - Randy

  19. #939
    *Phantom, having remembered that he "owned" the entire Mt. Fuji, called a newspaper and put in an ad, hoping that someone would call wanting Mt. Fuji. After standing by the pay-phone for approximately 15 minutes, the phone rang.*

    Voice on the phone: (In Japanese accent) "Hello, Mr. Master, this is the Japanese National Park and Monument Society, and we would like to purchase your property, but first we would like to see your deed to the property."

    Phantom: (In slick, businessman accent) "OK, I will bring it over to your office in 15 minutes. Where exactly is your office?"

    Japanese Guy: "1424 Yakisamei Lane, Top floor, office #7538. See you soon, Mr. Master."

    *With that, Phantom walks over to the nearest sleek, black convertible, hops in, hotwires it and drives off to the Japanese National Park and Monument Society office.*

    Ack! Two of our heroes have taken less reputable occupations! What will the other heroes do? Will Phantom be arrested for trying to sell Mt. Fuji? Find out in the next installment in the NEVERENDING STORY!!

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

  20. #940
    (NSP: Finally, I get around to posting for this again Anywhos...)

    Geb: What-da-ya-mean "I smell"?

    The other heroes shift uncomfortabley as they knew what was meant.

    retaurant owner: I'm sorry, but all our employees must be clean to work.

    Geb: But I don't understand...*turning to the others* you guys haven't taken showers either and you don't smell--

    Maybe: Actually Geb, we all took a shower at the end of page 22, when you were still in the CyberArena.

    Geb: *grumble* What am I going to do then?

    Los: Follow your dreams, Gebohq. That's what you always told me...

    Geb: I did? I mean, yeees, I did. My dream, eh? Hmm...YES! I'll finally get paid doing what I've always wanted to do!

    With that, Geb zipped off and away from the other heroes that were currently about to apply for jobs at the cheap restaurant.

    Michael McLongname: Do I want to know what his dream--

    Sem: No.
    Three hours and seventy-one minutes later.. )

    Geb: OK, I have my ho's, I have my superior, anything I'm forgetting?

    Ho #1 (one of the many classes of people whom, by being identified with numbers, automatically aren't REAL people...): How about our financial situation? Do we each have an account? What kind of stock shares do we each get? Not to mention wardrobe, housing, transportation...

    Geb: Since when did being a pimp become so much work? At least I'll get my benefits from this job...

    Ho #2: Actually, you don't get those kind of "benefits". That's considered sexual harassment.

    Geb: What? But you're a ho. I'm confused...

    Ho #1: Yeah, and besides, we don't date the guys we work with.

    Geb: Just make me some money! Er, please?

    Ho #3: We would, but you paid us for our services, not to work for you.

    Ho #1: I don't think our pimp is going to be real happy either when he finds out that you're trying to be his rival. Actually, he keeps a rather close eye on us.

    Suddenly, the door busts open, and a large burly man in a wifebeater enters, ready to kill clean-shaven-leader-of-a-band-of-heroes-type. Geb began to see his life flash before his eyes, alreay seeing his adolescent years.

    Ho #1: And there he is. *to Geb* I'd suggest running right now.
    Elsewhere, in the Holy Lands...

    Poster Geb: Ok, you know the plan, men. In the name of Nesianity, CHARGE!

    Poster Geb, strapped in terrorist arms and gear, runs with guns blazing into the gates of Jerusalum, followed by his small army of terrorists.

    Thirty seconds later...

    Terrorist #144: Dang it! This bits!

    Poster Geb: Yeha, who knew you needed a lisence to terrorize...OK men, scratch Jerusalum. Onward to Mecca!

    Terrorists: YEAH!
    Elsewhere, Geb the writer sits on a sunny beach, being served hand and foot by beautiful women.

    GTW: The joys of creating my own environment...

    Suddenly, his backdrop changes to that of a member of a tenny-bopper boy band, with only pre-pubesant girls screaming for him.

    GTW: Damn you, Sem!

    At the pawn shop, Sem the hero is cursed with having to wait for the pawnbroker to count out 5,000 one lyra dollar bills.

    GTW: Damn all you writers!

    Will Geb the hero be KOS (killed on sight) by the pimp he stole the ho's from? Will Poster Geb claim any Holy Land for Nesianity AND get money out of it? Will Geb the writer be able to get the money needed and retain his dignity, and more importantly, escape the heroes' realm? This and more, in the next post of THE NEVERENDING STORY THREAD!

    The Plothole: a home for amateur, inclusive, collaborative stories

  21. #941
    forums' resident drunk scotI
    *Geb The Writer falls to his knees. The camera pans round, revealing a half-buried Statue of Liberty*

    GTW: "Damn you all to hell!"

    *Meanwhile, other characters are trying to get jobs...*

    Interveiwer: "And your education...?"

    CookedHaggis: "Well, I spent 4 years at Oxford doing a degree in culinary etiquette, followed by a 3 year cusine and cutlery distribution postgraduate course at Cambridge. If you look at the next page of my CV, you will find a reference from Florian's in Venice, as well as from several other major European restraunts..."

    Interviewer: "I see...."

    *The three interviewers converse quietly, occasionally throwing glances at CookedHaggis and his CV.*

    Interviewer: "I'm sorry Mr...uh...Haggis, but I'm afraid you just don't have what it takes to be a member of our team. I'm very sorry, maybe you can try again in a few years once you have more experience."

    *CookedHaggis walks outside to the group, a look of sullen reject over his face*

    Maybe: "How did the interview for McDonald's go then?"

    CookedHaggis: "Don't ask..."

  22. #942
    Mopping Up Since 2000
    *In ‘Ma’s Diner’*

    *Dart Wader pulls out Flexor’s ‘Triple Bladed Lightsaber’*

    Dart Wader: Feaw, ma powew of cwopywight infwingement!

    *TLTETH laughs and in response, rips out a BFG 9000, a Golden Gun, and a Nikita Missile launcher*

    TLTETH: Ha! Your pathetic excuse for copyright infringement is NOTHING compared to the copyright infringement of RUSSIA!!!

    *Dart Wader shakes his head and heaves out a nuclear missile launcher*

    *TLTETH reaches into his boundless pockets and after many minutes of heaving, lifts out a Death Star Superlaser*

    TLTETH: Whew! Sure glad to have THAT out of my pockets!

    Dart Wader: Oh YEAH!

    *As military drums loudly tap in the background, Dart Wader finally decided… it was time. Enough of this silliness. He would finally reveal… his Uber-weapon! Reaching into his cape blowing in the sudden wind, Dart Wader slowly withdraws a lockbox. He unlocks the box, lifting up the lid. Golden rays of light burst force from the box and TLTE shielded his eyes. When he opened them he found himself staring at the ultimate weapon… the.… the (Camera zooms in on the weapon)… THE ROUTISSERIE CHICKEN BARBECUE!*

    Dart Wader: MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

    TLTETH: Huh?

    Dart Wader: Wewl. The eviw viwain mawket was ovewsatuwated! So ah’m now a twavewing sawesman! Ah’m selling this wondewfuh bahbecue!

    TLTETH: Uh… but…

    *Dart Wader interrupts him. He then goes on to explain the different superior features of the rotisserie chicken barbecue, how it can cook three live chickens and a feral cow simultaneously, and how it cooks the chicken automatically, seasons the chicken automatically, stuffs the chicken automatically, plucks the chicken automatically, and even eats the chicken automatically! And all for the low, low, low, price of $26.00! Plus $1675.00 package and handling! Order now and get a free NES action figure!*

    TLTETH: That’s great. I’m sure the barbecue is great. And I’m really happy for you. And your barbecue. But what are you telling this to me for!

    Dart Wader: Ah’m hew to wecwuit you!

    TLTETH: Recruit me?

    Dart Wader: Wecwuit you!

    TLTETH: But, I’m last true evil the hero. You want Last True Evil the Salesman.

    Dart Wader: Dawn Management! Ah wewl. I need anothew sawesman! Pwease? Pwease be a sawesman!

    TLTETH: Uh…

    *Meanwhile, across the room at the table, the remaining heroes are still looking for their jobs. They search through the Phone Book and the Classifieds for future occupations.*

    Janitor Bob: Man. This phone book is really hard to read. What kinda font is this!

    Maybe: Uh… Bob. Maybe you should use the English telephone book, as opposed to the Japanese one.

    Janitor Bob: OH!

    Otter: Hm… this looks like an interesting occupation. Cubicles… managers… engineering…

    Maybe: Otter… uh… that’s Dilbert. That’s the comics page.

    Janitor Bob: Okay… Diarrhea… Dianoga… Dipstick Repair Clinic… ah. Demolitions. Let’s see… Boom, Bang, and Kapow demolitions firm… nah… ‘Splosions R us- the demolitions firm that brought you such coveted demolitions as Hiroshima, Nagasaki, and the Hindenburg! Perfect.

    Otter: Okay. Here’s an ad. It says: SWF, TLTE, 130 pounds, likes to dance, candlelight dinners, and long walks along the beach!

    Maybe: *sigh*

    *Ha! Janitor Bob the writer got the first 'personal ads' joke in the employment sections. But has he gone insane... using much... much... much... too many '...'s? Will TLTETH become a traveling salesman? Find out next time on [b]NES: It slices, it dices, and it even makes chop suey[b]*

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

    [This message has been edited by Janitor Bob (edited September 01, 2001).]
    "Your entire base belongs to us."
    "It would be highly appreciated if someone would set the bomb up for us"
    "Launch all of our ships, christened 'Zigs', to insure that justice will be achieved swiftly and powerfully."

  23. #943

    *The Mega-ZZTer walks into McDonalds and orders a hamburger. He was here in Japan for the many video game expos this time of year. (Also he was looking for the staff of Game Informer magazine, as he knew they would be here also, for their autographs.) As he eats his hamburger, he opens his laptop and surfs to to continue reading the Never Ending Story Thread. Finally after a few minutes he reaches the bottom of page 24.*

    MZZT: Man, this is good stuff...

    *He suddenly realizes something, and looks at the last few posts...*

    MZZT: !

    *He runs outside to look for CookedHaggis (to try to get his autograph). Failing to find him, he looks for Sem. Failing to find him, he gives up and starts wandering around, satisfied that with this thread's similarity to 'The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy', the improbability of running into someone from the thred meant that he would find someone very soon.*

    (NSP: Well, I've finally done something I've wanted to do for a while: I've registered on this great forum! I hope this post, and my others to come, live up to the legacy of NeS.)

    {Edit: Whoops, forgot my sig.)


    There is a theory which states that if ever anyone ever discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable.

    There is another which states that this has already happened.

    [This message has been edited by The_Mega_ZZTer (edited September 01, 2001).]

  24. #944
    *As Phantom was driving away from the Japanese National Forest and Park Society where he had just completed a con selling of Mt. Fuji, he notices in his rear-view mirror that 2 police cars are chasing after him at full speed, sirens blaring. He immediately pulls over, being a good law-abiding citizen. The police officers pull over behind him, and get out of their cars. They assume defensive positions behind the doors of their cars and yell for Phantom to get out of his car slowly with his hands up.*

    Phantom: (In Good, Law-abiding Citizen accent) "What is the problem officers?"

    Officer #1: We have received an anoymous tip from some guy named Geb saying that there is a bomb in your car. And we also have a warrant for your arrest on account of you conning a government agency. So come out nice and easy, and there wont be any trouble."

    *Phantom quickly sets his car into reverse and slams on the gas, making the car go flying backwards into the police officer's cars. He jumps out of the car at the last second doing a flip over the windsheild. The car explodes in a giant explosion, rendering all the police cars flaming hunks of metal. The camera pans around and the audience sees Phantom dusting himself off with the flaming wreckages in the background. Phantom walks over to the cars and picks up his suitcase full of money. He then walks off in search of the other heroes...

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

  25. #945
    (NSP: Holy banannas! Another writer! Since when did this story start attracting so many interested people? And from teh sounds of it, you ACTUALLY read all of NeS up to this date. Let me be the first to say welcome--feel free to do as the other characters are doing at the moment, and when/if it comes up, feel free to include a "MZZT" the writer. Yadda-yadda, blah-blah blah, and w00t! Another writer! Anywhos, perhaps I should post a little something...)

    Hoofing it out of the cheap apartment building, Gebohq doesn't even look back as the angry pimp charges at him with a baseball bat. Geb runs until he reaches the airport, where he buys the quickest ticket away from where he was. Geb manages to loose the pimp as he boards the plane...

    The next day...

    Geb: Hey, I'm in the States now! And how convineant, the studio for "Win Ben Stein's Money" is right over there...
    In the Holy Lands, Poster Geb and his "family" of terrorists are making a road trip to Mecca in their Geo Metro.

    Terrorist #5: Poster Geb! He's touching me! Make him stop!

    Terrorist #4: He started it!

    Poster Geb: Hey, don't make me come back there!...

    Oh-oh! What next what next! Find out, in our next post! Come faster...

    The Plothole: a home for amateur, inclusive, collaborative stories

  26. #946
    Terrorist #4: Oh my god what is that?
    As a comet comes and hits the planet where they stand....
    then they all died

    Yeah, but John, if the Pirates of the Caribbean breaks down, the pirates don't eat the tourists. - Ian Malcolm

  27. #947
    *Terrorist #4 throws up his arms in terror at the approaching comet.*

    Terrorist #4: "AAAAAHHHHH!!!"

    *The Texas-sized comet enters the atmosphere of Earth*


    *The comet begins burning, trailing a long tail of flame.*


    *The comet pulverizes a flying duck into a cloud of feathers.*


    Terrorist #5: "All right, who let Terrorist #4 have a drink of coffee again?"

    *The comet lands on Terrorist #4's forehead. However, having mostly burned away in the atmosphere, the comet is now the size of a quarter, and does not seriously injure Terrorist #4.*

    Terrorist #4: "Whew! Now where were we?"

    Terrorist #5: "Hey! Stop poking me!"


    Random Audience Member: "Hey! What about the "then they all died" part?

    That doesn't happen until ninety years later, when all the characters are old and grey. It's totally unrelated to the comet incident. I'm the Narrator, I should know.

    Random Audience Member: "Oh. Ok."

    Whatever will happen next in this eternally exiting and adventurous... Oh, I'm not getting paid enough to be eloquent. Just keep reading the Neverending Story, you mindless twits we call 'readers'.

    Read the Bible, it'll scare the hell out of you.
    So sayest the Writer of Silly Things!

  28. #948
    Mopping Up Since 2000
    *Finally, the pawn shop owner counts out Sem's 5,000 lyra*

    Pawn Shop owner: Here you go. Would you like paper or plastic?

    Sem: Plasti...

    Enviromentalist Audience Member: *cough cough*

    Sem: I mean Paper, of course. Wouldn't want to accidentally strangle helpless dolphins.

    Pawn Shop Owner: Uh... no sir. You wouldn't.


    *Meanwhile... in Eastern Turkey...*

    Terrorist #4: Whew! It's not every day that you get hit by a killer comet. And of the one post story killer variety too...

    Terrorist #3: I know. It's usually just a nuetron bomb.

    Poster Geb: But yet we were spared from the mighty wrath of Morris. So what lesson have you learned to day?

    Terrorist #1: Uh... Only you can create forest fires?

    Terrorist #2: That Atmospheric friction can pose great risk to incoming space vessels?

    Poster Geb: Of course not, brother. We have learned that the hand of the writer guides us in our quest, and approves it. The comet was foretold long ago in the sacred scrolls of Nostrodamus.

    Terrorist #5: Uh, I thought that reffered to another comet...

    Poster Geb: Who's the Theologian here! This also gives us a insightful look into Predestination...

    *Hours later, due to a traffic jam because of a Police Car Crash, Sem arrives at the bank- exchanging his lyra for American Dollars.*

    Banker: Let's see, Mr. S. Evil, that comes to... 5000 lyra at the current exchange rate... would be... $3.95. Plus Tax.

    Sem: What... I can't believe it. A stolen diamond should have gotten me much more than that... *grumble* Just when you thought you could trust human decency... Oh well. I suppose, I'll just have to find ANOTHER major establishment to rob.

    Banker: Uh, Mr. S. Evil, sir. Why are your thinking out loud...

    Sem: Dang, Janitor Bob the Writer's too lazy to incase my words in italics.

    Banker: Right...

    Sem: Let's see... I want to rob a respectable establishment because I don't want to be made fun of by the other criminals. It needs to be a wealthy, yet friendly organization, with great prices, and inspirational advertisments... That's it...

    *A few hours later, Sem arrives in McDonalds. He is wearing complete black, except for a blue ski-mask which covers up his ears, neck and hair, but leaves the rest of his face exposed. The line in McDonalds is unusually long, being a Sunday. Sem rushes to the front waving his gun*

    Sem: Okay... McDonalds people! I want a... gajillion... skillion... dollars and I want it right now!

    McDonalds Customer: Hey! Wait your turn! Get in the back of the line- no cutting!

    *Grumbling, Sem makes his way to the back of the line, waiting, scanning the menu...*

    *A few hours later*

    Poster Geb: And so that's why Attonement is covered in the book of Heebedee. But you must be wary of the parenthetical Greek in that passage...

    Terrorist 1: Uh... when do we get to kill people...

    Poster Geb: Actually the Book of Nestianity says that we can't kill people.

    Terrorist 2: That's no fun.

    Poster Geb: That's why were ignoring that passage right now.

    *Hours Later*

    Sem: This is taking hours!

    McDonalds Customer: That's why I usually go through the drive through.

    *Hours Later, Sem has stolen a Dodge Viper, and makes his way through the drive in. He pulls up to the speaker window.*

    Speaker: gwlga toi aahalnw

    *Sem points the pistol at the speaker window, menacingly*

    Sem: This is a hold up! Put your hands up... nice... and slow... where I can see them...

    Speaker: Gnaknew Gnawgng agwn?

    Sem: Don't smart off to, me! And get your hands up.

    *The speaker continues to stay still.*

    Speaker: Giangowagiwn awgnlwangiwn akngpiw!

    Sem: Look, I'm going to take your hard earned money, and then I'm going to gag you.

    Speaker: Boshaalngwa Agwagwrt alnfwiabga

    Sem: Then again, that may not be necessary.

    Speaker: Sagnwn?

    Sem: How bout talking to me without your mouth full of fries?

    Speaker: May I take your order?

    Sem: Yes. I'd like 2 Million dollars. American, please.

    Speaker: Would you like fries with that?

    Sem: Sure.

    Intercom: $14.32 at the next window.

    *To insure the intercom's silence Sem fires a round of bullets at it. The plastic shatters, the electronics warped. He drives to the next window.*

    *A man in a McDonalds hat hands him a large paper bag*

    Mcdonald's employee: Have a nice day.

    Sem: Oh. I will. I will.

    *After pulling into a nearby alley, Sem lookes into his bag and inspects the contents*

    Sem: Curses! They gave me 2 million fries and 1 american dollar...

    May the Windex be with you
    -Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)
    "Your entire base belongs to us."
    "It would be highly appreciated if someone would set the bomb up for us"
    "Launch all of our ships, christened 'Zigs', to insure that justice will be achieved swiftly and powerfully."

  29. #949

    (OoC: I DID read all 24 pages of NeS, BTW. Unfortunately, I don't have time to make a REAL post, but I have a great idea for one that someone else can do: Everyone gets bored and Geb suggests they come to his house for a barbecue. Everyone agrees, and they do. However, TLTEPC (The Last True Evil Party Crasher) crashes the BBQ... =D Just an idea, maybe not the best one, but it IS an idea... )

    There is a theory which states that if ever anyone ever discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable.

    There is another which states that this has already happened.
    -Douglas Adams, The Restaurant at the End of the Universe

  30. #950

    (OoC: Scratch the above idea, I've got a better one anyway. BTW, which realm are the ppl in Japan? I thought it was the writer's realm... the last two dozen posta have been a little confusing, so would someone sort out for me where the writers and heros are? Thanx. Also, BTW, is there a UBB Code for centering text?)

    *The Mega-ZZTer walks down the street. As he has about given up on his 'just walk around' idea, he runs into a small viking.

    Krig: Hello! You need lawyer?

    MZZT: No... Wait! You're... KRIG THE VIKING??!??!? Man! Can I have your auotgraph?!??

    Krig: What's an auotgraph?

    MZZT: Er, I meant 'autograph', it was a mistype... nevermind.

    Krig: Krig hungry. *Eyes the fries MZZT is holding.*

    MZZT: Er... sure. *Hands over the fries.* Look, I think there's something going on over there, *Waves in the general direction of the McDonals he came from, and the one that Sem robbed.* and someone may need a lawyer.

    Krig: OH GOODIE! KRIG HAVE $5000 IN NO TIME!!!! *Zooms off*

    MZZT: That is one strange little man...

    Meanwhile, in Krig's head...

    Darkside: (Yes he's STILL there...) Krig, now, let's go over it one more time... what do you do to the other writers now?

    Krig: Krig hungry. *Eats more fries*

    Darkside: ARGH! Oh well, I give up. I'd have better luck with OLTE... hey, why not? *Leaves Krig's head to find OLTE.*

    Krig: Finally, Darkside is gone. Now where was I? Hm... Ah yes, I was going to disapprove Einstein's Theory... Now let's see...


    *The Otter is walking along a street, looking for.. *ahem*, well, let's not go into that too much. *

    Otter: *Whistles*

    Crowd of PPL: THERE HE IS!!!!

    Otter: Huh? *He thinks he knows them, but he doesn't know from where...*

    Person in crowd: *Into megaphone* Steal us some more Cowtails! We ran out!

    Otter: Oh them... *Starts running*

    Crowd: COME BACK HERE!!!

    *Otter runs into a nearby hotel. The Crows persues, but because there are so many of them and they are going so fast, they take out the doors and part of the surrounding walls.*

    Otter: Wait! What do you want?

    Person in crowd: We want you to steal some more Cowtails from a 7-11! NOW!

    Other person in crowd: Wait, are there any 7-11 in Japan?

    *Murmurs rise up from the crowd...*

    Yet another person in crowd: Well, if there aren't, we'll make him build one, and then he can rob it!

    Crowd: YEA! GET HIM!!!

    Otter: Oh, #$^% *Starts running again.*

    *Otter makes it to the elevator before the crowd. He punches the button for the top floor, and smiles as the crowd reaches the elevator a second too late.*

    *His smile fades when he reaches the top floor, and heres a rumble from the stairway. Looking down, he sees the crowd, now followed by the hotel manager asking them to please leave, racing up after him.*

    *He decides to trick them. He steps back into the elevator and presses the button for the basement. In the basement, he can finally rest... But then he hears the crowd somewhere above him...*

    Person in crowd (in megaphone): Come out Otter! You can't hide forever!


    Person: We have some friends in a demolition firm!



    *At that moment, the elevator doors opened again, and a search party stepped out.*

    Member of search party: There his is!!!

    Otter: Augh. #$%^. *Runs yet again.*

    *Luckily for him, the stairway extends to the top floor AND the basement. He runs up it to the lobby.*

    *Unfortunatly, the rest of the crowd has regrouped there, waiting for the search party.*

    The Last True Evil Cowtail Lover (also in crowd): Hey! Get the Otter! He's on the stairwell!

    Otter: $%^&. *Runs up the stairs to the top floor, and then finds another set of stairs up. At the top, he pushes open a door marked:*

    Roof: Swimming Pool

    *and continues on. The roof is flat, and it has, if you haven't guessed, a swimming pool set into it. The Otter climbs up a potted palm, but then remembers what happened the last time he climbed up a tree. He is going to climb down, but the crowd is there already, starting to climb up after him.*

    Otter: Grrr...

    *Trusting in the Force, he leaps off the palm toward the roof of another building. But, unfortunatly, he is not in the realm of the heroes, (and if he is and I meesed up, oh well. It makes for good reading.) he is in the realm of the writers, AKA the REAL world. And in the real world, the force does not exist.*

    Otter: @#$^, @#$^, @#$^!!!!

    *The highest point of his jump is located above the edge of the hotel. Gravity takes over, and pulls him down between the two buildings.*

    Otter: @#$@#$%^&*$*&^%$#@#$%^&*!!!!!!

    *As he falls, he spots something below. (Un?)fortunatly, it is the crowd. They don't want him to get hurt, they want him in best physical condition so he can rob the Wawa. As they catch him and carry him off, we are left with a few questions:*

    Will Mr.T rescue the Otter?
    Which realm is this anyway?!?!?
    Will The Mega-ZZTer get his JK level done in time for the Massassi Level Contest?

    Only time will tell... or the next post, maybe.

    There is a theory which states that if ever anyone ever discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable.

    There is another which states that this has already happened.
    -Douglas Adams, The Restaurant at the End of the Universe

    [EDIT: Oops, Wawa should have been 7-11]

    [This message has been edited by The_Mega_ZZTer (edited September 06, 2001).]

  31. #951
    (NSP: Good post(s) you started off with, Mr. MZZT! So you know, the whole job-seeking deal IS in the heroes' realm (because of the confusion as you pointed out, we're trying to stick to generally one realm (soon enough, we'll just say "writer's realm" (or whatever other realm if come be that) if it doesn't tale place in the heroes' realm and take out the usage of saying "in the heroes' realm" altogether. It's cool that theOtter (man, as a main character in a post too, that's pretty neat) doesn't use the Force (he was never known as much of a Jedi anyways). Perhaps its just me, but Krig seems rather articulate for himself in this post too (though perhaps this is one of his better days, and is trying to sound professional ). And I thought theOtter robbed a 7-11 back on page 2-3-whatever it was (though it's been a while, so I'm not sure.)

    And you're making a level? Nice! Feel free to drop any of us a line (myself- ) and send ideas, ask questions, etc etc. Keep up da good postin'!

    The Plothole: a home for amateur, inclusive, collaborative stories

  32. #952
    forums' resident drunk scotI
    *Everyone has principles. Standards that they set themselves. Even the hereos have them (despite the senseless acts of violence, theft and other assorted criminal activities). Why mention principles? What possible relation does it have to the story? Admittedly none, since our hereos have abandoned theirs in the search for money.
    It's for this reason that CookedHaggis is now stacking shelves in the local Walmart...*

    Customer: "Um...excuse me, but can you show me where the meat is?"

    CookedHaggis: "Certainly sir. If you'll just follow me....smoked or non-smoked?"

    Customer: " just want to have a look.."

    *The customer starts browsing the refrigerated shelves, casually picking up packages and giving them consideration. He is about to place one in his trolley, when the hovering figure behind him offers some advice...*

    CookedHaggis: "Oh no sir, I wouldn't choose that."

    Customer: "Huh?"

    CookedHaggis: "That meat- far too grisly. I'd personally recommend the vension- rather gamey for some peoples' tastes, but it goes excellently with a full bodied red wine."

    Customer: "O...k... I think I'll just be leaving now..."

    *The customer makes a hasty exit. The manager, having witnessed the situation, confronts our slightly confused culinary connoisseur*

    Manager: "What the hell was that? You just lost us a customer."

    CookedHaggis: "But I was merely informing him of the rashness of his decision. If he had taken the liberty of following my advice, he would have found that the venision is indeed a superior choice. One would think that a man who obviously has no idea about the standards of meat would value an experienced opinion."

    Manager: "You're paid to stack selves, not to ponce about and annoy customers. Now get back to work, and no more of this bloody nonsense, you're not a waiter anymore..."

  33. #953
    Competing for the prized five thousand dollars, Gebohq, as well as two other contestants, are standing in anticipation as the cameras begin to roll...

    Jimmy Kimbel: And your host, Ben Stein!

    Ben Stein: Call me crazy--

    Audience: You're crazy!

    Gebohq: *to guy next to him* I thought he was just a nice rich guy...

    Stein: --but I'm going to put up five thousand dollars in the hopes that I know more than you. Now, my assistant, Jimmy Kimbel, will introduce our contestants.

    Jimmy: Thanks Ben. Our first contestant comes from says here "If I tell you, an anvil will drop on your head". Yeah...and his name is uh...Gee-bowk?

    Gebohq: Just call me Geb.

    Jimmy: Ok then...and it says here you "save the world" for a living?

    Gebohq: Yeup, professional hero. I've saved the universe a couple times too. Superman can eat his heart out!

    Jimmy: Moving on...our next contestant comes from...the same place. And your name is Losien?

    Losien: Yes, sir.

    Gebohq: Los?!?! Sis??? What are you doing here?

    Losien: I'm was the only place I could think of to get 5 grand.

    Gebohq: Hey, it's all cool, don't worry about it.

    Ben: Ohhh...sibling rivalry! And what a fine looking young woman you are too, Miss.

    Jimmy: Now Ben, no hitting on her.

    Ben: I was NOT hitting on her . Who's our third contestant?

    Jimmy: He comes from...the bleachers. "Random audience member?"

    random audience member: Yeah, I know that it's always the guys watching that know the answers!

    Gebohq: I dunno, you're standing in the loser spot there. The guy who stands there is always out first.

    Los: Or the woman...

    Jimmy: Look, you all look like fine potential for losers, ok? Let's move on to our subjects, which are..."St. John's John"...

    Gebohq: Why does this sound familiar?


    a differnt random audience member(ADRAM): Man, the TV went out, and just as the first round was starting too...

    About fifteen minutes later...

    ADRAM: The TV came back on, finally. I'm not sure what I would have done if I had to get out of my seat...
    Gebohq: I told you that the other guy would loose first, Los.

    Losien: But I didn't even get any points...

    Gebohq: (off to the side)Uh, sis, you really should figure out that you'll always be getting uh...certain benefits, the way you look.

    Losien: I know, they pity me because I look so ugly.

    Gebohq: *sigh*

    Jimmy: Well, it seems that you, Losien, have yet to answer a single question, yet you have rang in several times, gave the right answer, and took it back.

    Losien: Uh...bad luck I suppose *looks upwards*

    Jimmy: And Geb here, despite his being smarter than the average hero, only has a total of $50 dollars.

    Gebohq: *thinking* That's what happens when I try to let my sister win...
    In the land of Mecca...

    Poster Geb: Finally, we're here.

    Poster Geb walked up to the walls of Mecca. On the wall hung signs with a red circle and slash over certain pictures. One had a ciggarette in it, one had the word 'littering", and the other was a clear picture of a terrorist attack.

    Poster Geb: Lord, is there any Holy Land that doesn't ban terrorism?

    Terrorist #7: Uh...sir? Why don't we just...break the rules? We ARE terrorists after all, we're breaking the law in the first place--

    Poster Geb: BREAK THE RULES? Blasphamous hethan! We will follow the book of Nesianity and rightfully claim a home for ourselves!

    Terrorist #4: What about that whole "ignoring the rule about killing" bit?

    Poster Geb: You're not very good at not talking, are you? Besides, I jsut got an idea. We'll break their rules and storm in anyways!

    Terrorist #7: *sigh*

    Poster Geb: CHARRRRRRR---ge?

    Terrorist #265: Looks like about 70 other groups beat us to the punch. And they're charging a fee to be put on the waiting list.

    Poster Geb: Darn the free market! Do you think they'll take an American Express?

    Terrorist #3: *to #4* Have you ever actually SEEN the book of Nesianity?

    Terrorist #4: I just keep seeing him look inside a pamphlet that says "Local Liquor Store Specials" on it...with "NeS" scribbled on hte front.

    Terrorist #3: Perhaps I should consider a career in the custodial arts...
    Geb the writer claws his way off stage, swinging his guitar madly to whack the hords of young girls away from him.

    Geb the writer: I never thought I'd be running away from them...

    Geb the writer manages to open the door, and a black and mysterious car is outside. The door opens, and a voice that says "Quick Geb, in here!" Only too gladly, Geb the writer jumps in the car, bolting away from his pre-teenage fans.

    GTW: Thanks for getting me out of there. Er...

    Mysterious person: Just call me a fan of your work. And don't worry, I mean your real work as a writer, not as a singer.

    GTW: Hey, my singing isn't that bad...stop laughing...

    Who woke me up? It's 3:15 in the morning...fine fine... *cough* Will Geb the hero win Ben Stein's money? Will Poster Geb ever find a Holy Land to call his own? And who is this mysterious person who has helped Geb the writer? Tune in next time, when some other writer answers these questions. right here... on... the Never... ending... Story... Thread--zzzzzz...

    The Plothole: a home for amateur, inclusive, collaborative stories

  34. #954

    (OoC: Geb, you're right, it WAS a 7-11... why did I think it was a Wawa? Oh well...)

    *The Mega-ZZTer likes to write computer programs in his spare time. He now decides to write a piece of code that will be so amazing that anyone would pay millions for it.*

    *Well, at least five grand.*

    *Anyways, he finally planned out the code in his head. As he sat down to type on his laptop, he cracked his knuckles, placed his hands in the typing position...*

    *And totally forgot everything.*

    MZZT: Darn programmer's block.

    *And then, very slowly, a smile spreads across his face. He begins to type.*

    -=&lt; Later &gt;=-

    *MZZT walks into the Nintendo of Japan building.*

    Secretary: *Talks in Japanese*

    MZZT: Do you speak english?

    Other secretary: I do. Sir, do you have an appointment?

    MZZT: *Walks over* Err... no.

    Other secretary: Well, then state your business.

    MZZT: I just HAVE to see thebig cheese right away.

    Other secretary: Wait, is that one of those 'Americanisms'? English isn't my native language, sorry...

    MZZT: Um, I want to see the boss.

    Other secretary: Oh! Ok... but I have to check with him...

    MZZT: Hey, this is the hero's realm, a story. Right?

    Other secretary: Right.

    MZZT: And since it's a story, it'll come out anyway the writer wants it too, right?

    Other secretary: *sigh* I see your point. *Opens spooky-type door. Fog floats out, and it is pitch black inside.* Walk inside, last door on the right.*

    *MZZT walks in.*

    -=&lt; Much later &gt;=-

    *MZZT walks out.*

    MZZT: Well, THAT was easy. **Shouts through open office door.* Thank you! That really was generous of you!*

    Nintendo Head Honcho: *mumbles*

    MZZT: *Counts his $50000 carefully, whilst whisling and walking out of the building.* Who'd have thought that making a program that put lots of colorful pixels on a screen in an impressive manner could be worth $50000? I wonder why some people are so gulible...

    Well, he got away lucky, with $50000 to his credit. But what will he do now? Will he share $5000 with each of the NeS heroes so they can get on with this thing we call a 'plot'? Or will he, being a character in a story, suddenly become a Jedi and do lots of cool stuff in a robe while weilding a lightsaber?!?

    MZZT: SHUT UP!!! You're giving away my idea for my next post!!!

    Heh. Stay tuned!

    (BTW, I found a cool topic, under the Showcase forum, called the Massassian City Project. It looks like it's gonna be awesome, so take a look at it sometime.)

    There is a theory which states that if ever anyone ever discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable.

    There is another which states that this has already happened.
    -Douglas Adams, The Restaurant at the End of the Universe

  35. #955
    Mopping Up Since 2000
    *Janitor Bob shuffled nervously through a hall on the 195th floor of a large Tokyo building. The floor was pure gold. Skulls were mounted on pikes with gouts of flame slowly burning out of the gaping eyesockets. Bob pushed open a massive Oak door. He strode in to an office, decorated with stainglassed windows and odd carvings. The iron desk was flanked by two suits of armor carrying axes. A chair- with dynamite strapped to it- turned slowly around, revealing an distorted little man with no eyebrows, singed hair, missing teeth, and black fingernails. The nameplate on the desk showed his name to be Mr. Kazinski.

    Mr. Kazinski *in prestigious voice*: The bathrooms are 2 stories down, past the Libyan office, can't miss it.

    Bob: No, sir, I'm not looking for the Bathrooms I'm here to see you for an interview.

    Mr. Kazinski: Yes... well, most people don't show up to an interview wearing stained cloth and suspenders!

    Bob: Well, I had a tie also, but it was in the wash.

    Mr. Kazinski: Well, normally I wouldn't even THINK about granting an interview to a person like you but, frankly, ever since McVay left for the private sector, our business has been going downhill ever since.

    Bob: Great. So when do I start.

    Mr. Kazinski: WOAH! Not so fast cleanin'-boy. I still have to interview you. Let's see... where was your last place of occupation.

    Bob: Windex Emporium.

    Mr. Kazinski: Boss?

    Bob: Eeevil Custodian Dean.

    Mr. Kazinski: Is that Eeevil with one or two E's?

    Bob: Two.

    Mr. Kazinski: Yes... And why did you leave?

    Bob: We both were transported magically to another dimension, or rather a dimension between dimensions, and I had to battle him along with hoards of other demonic forces while the entire multiverse's survival hung on balance.

    Mr. Kazinski: *sigh* We get that a lot. The former detective we hired several months ago had the same thing happen to him.

    Bob: Yeah. I hate when that happens.

    Mr. Kazinski: Why are you interested in joining the demolitions occupation?


    Mr. Kazinski: Uh-huh. Have you had any previous experience in demolitions.

    Bob: Well, once, we cleaning a college bathroom, and I had swiped this large chunk of sodium from the science lab. I tossed it in the toilet and ran...

    Mr. Kazinski: Yes?

    Bob: The explosion could be heard all the way in the Student Union Building.

    Mr. Kazinski: And they didn't fire you?

    Bob: I blamed it on Janitor Jack. He doesn't seem to like me very much any more. At least that's what it seems like when I visit him in Jail.

    Mr. Kazinski: I see. What are your recommendations.

    Bob: I have recommendations from Sem, Geb, Otter, Maybe, Masseto, CookedHaggis, Losien, Antestarr and I would have one from Krig, but he still writes in the dirt with a stick, instead of using a pencil like everybody else.

    Mr. Kazinski: Can I see them.

    Bob: Here. Their pretty positive too. For example, this one from Maybe says: "Please, please, please, please hire this guy. And make sure he is very busy, and doesn't have time to visit us."

    Mr. Kazinski: Wonderful. Just wonderful. Okay, that's all. You can leave now.

    *Bob runs down the hall, as fast as he possibly can.*

    Mr. Kazinski: Don't call us... we'll call you!

    *Will Bob get the job? Or will he be trapped forever in the swirling slough of deadly unemployment. Will Janitor Bob the writer keep using melodramatic sentences like the last one? Only the future may tell, on the next reviting episode of 'The Neverending Story: The Story that Bombed'*

    May the Windex be with you
    -Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)
    "Your entire base belongs to us."
    "It would be highly appreciated if someone would set the bomb up for us"
    "Launch all of our ships, christened 'Zigs', to insure that justice will be achieved swiftly and powerfully."

  36. #956


    FUN FACT: rates this page a 1 out of 10.

    Just thought you'd like to know.

    "Duh, he can't outsmart me, 'cause I'm a moron!"

    -Giant (from some Looney Tunes cartoon, talking about Bugs Bunny)

  37. #957


    wuz here!!!

    "Duh, he can't outsmart me, 'cause I'm a moron!"

    -Giant (from some Looney Tunes cartoon, talking about Bugs Bunny)

  38. #958
    At the "Win Ben Stein's Money" studio...

    Geb: Man, and I was SO close to winning!

    Jimmy: We haven't started yet, Mr. Geb!

    Geb: Don't make me use my--what? Oh, ok... I'll be the second to go then.

    Jimmy: Ok then, to your booths! And usually now that Ben is in his booth, I'd tell you to beat Ben like nobody's business, but...*sigh* but I'm wondering if that would go against my conscious... OK Ben, are you ready?

    Ben: *matching Losien's humbleness* I shall do my best.

    Jimmy: OK...begin!

    The tick-tocking in the background can be heard.

    Jimmy: What is your name?

    Ben: ...Jimmy, are you being serious?

    Jimmy: Yes.

    Ben: Ben Stein.


    Jimmy: What is your quest?

    Ben: Quest? keep my five thousand dollars.


    Jimmy: What is your favorite color?

    Ben: Blue.


    Jimmy: What is the name of this show?

    Ben: Win Ben Stein's Money.


    Jimmy: Who stars in the "Clear eyes" commercial?

    Ben: I, Ben Stein, does.


    Ben: Jimmy, honestly, these questions are demeaning at the least--

    Jimmy: Which actor in Tremors has the same haircut as the other conestant, Geb?

    Ben: Someone else actually HAS that haircut? Er...pass.

    Jimmy: Why?

    Ben: Why not?


    Jimmy: Who predicted the comet that was to destroy the human race?

    Ben: Nostradomus.


    Jimmy: Explain the meaning of the universe.

    Ben: I can't do that!


    Jimmy: And how many questions have you answered so far, not including the one you are answering now?

    Ben: Nine.

    Jimmy: A whopping nine, Ben! And the answer to the one you missed was "Kevin Bacon". We would have also accepted "superfans of Tremors". Let's see how our contestant does...

    Ben: I can't believe I actually got one of those wrong.

    Jimmy: Are you ready Mr...uh...

    Losien: Ye--*cough* er...*in a deeper voice* yeah?

    Jimmy: You're not allowed to tag-team, Ms. Losien. You'll have to leave and let Mr. Geb play alone.

    Geb: Damn...

    Gebohq switches back into his booth, crossing his arms and pouting.

    Jimmy: Are you ready, Mr. Geb?

    Geb: As ready as I'll ever be.

    Jimmy: Ready....begin! What is your name?

    Geb: ...

    Jimmy: Mr. Geb?

    Geb: Shiny object...wha? Oh, my name is Gebohq. Why do you ask?


    Jimmy: *sigh* What is your quest?

    Geb: To be just like Captain Kirk!

    Geb: Saving the universe, getting the beautiful women--

    Jimmy: That'll be good enough. What is your favorite color?

    Geb: Ba-lue!


    Jimmy: Yeah...what is the name of this show?

    Geb: Aw crap, knew I shoulda paid attention...OH! Win Ben Stein's money!


    Jimmy: Who stars in the "Clear Eyes" commercials?

    Geb: Ares' cl--I mean, Ben Stein.


    Jimmy: Which actor in the movie Tremors has the same haircut as you do?

    Geb: Kevin Bacon!


    Geb: He's almost as good as Shatner!

    Jimmy: *rolls his eyes* Why?

    Geb: Why not?--


    Jimmy: Who predicted the comet that was to destroy the human race?

    Geb: And my haircut is WAY better than Luke's in Star Wars--er, oh, you want an answer. Nostradomus, duh.


    Jimmy: Explain the meaning of the universe.

    Geb: 42!


    Jimmy: And how many questions have you answered so far, not including the one you are answering now?

    Geb: Argh, I was never good at

    Ten seconds on the clock. Nine, eight...

    Geb: 8 divided by the cotangent of the torque...

    Six, five, four...

    Geb: It isn't any easier for you to be yelling those numbers like that!

    I know . Three,

    Geb: NINE! It's nine!

    The audience hangs on the edge of their seats, waiting for the "Ding!".

    Geb: Maybe I should have left the six before the nine...

    A technical crew guy, slicking in the shadows, darts out briefly, wispering in Jimmy's ear. The techie, now ashamed of showing himself, slicks back, head nearly to the ground.

    Jimmy: It seems that the "Ding!" noise has broken, but amazingly enough...Mr Geb wins with a 10.

    Ben: Whoever made those questions will die...

    Geb: WOOHOO! IwonIwonIwonIwon....

    Ben: Yes, take your 5,000. Now get out of my sight, and perhaps one day...

    Twenty minutes later...

    Losien: Um, Geb, I thought we were suppose to get that money for the others...

    Geb: Well, I couldn't help them if I didn't put a downpayment on this new Corvette, could I?

    Los: I dunno...

    Geb: Glad you agree with me. Let's take a spin. WHEEE!!!

    Los: We went to a hundred MPH rather quickly there...GEB LOOK OUT!

    Geb: Wha--

    The corvette hit a B.U.M.P. and went flying. Geb and Losien managed to jump out in time, right before the car landed front-first into the trunk of the tree. Geb gritted his teeth, turning away from the wreckage as if he didn't know how it got there. Geb and Losien saw a Toys R US in front of them, with a giant "Now Hiring".

    Los: Oh boy, working at Toys R US, where we can be a kid forever! Let's apply there!

    Geb: Why do I have a bad feeling about this?
    In Mecca...

    Poster Geb: What do you mean "It doesn't work?"

    Meccan guy: Sorry, but we do not accept American Express.

    Poster Geb: But-but-where are we going to claim as our Holy Land then?

    Terrorist #87: How about Canada? Or Ohio? Or Maryland?

    Poster Geb: Dear no, not THOSE places. That's where all the wierd people live. We'd be better off trying to claim New York City...hey...

    Terrorist#5: Uh-oh...I don't liek where he's thinking...
    Meanwhile, in an unknown place, in an unknown car, with an unknown person (sound familiar to you guys?), Geb the writer sat, waiting...

    GTW: ...jsut tell me who you are!

    Mysterious person: No.

    GTW: Please?

    Mysterious person: No.

    GTW: Pretty please?

    Mysterious person: Shouldn't you know?

    GTW: If I knew you, and you weren't another writer, you'd be a scantily-clad beautiful women, and I wouldn't CARE who you were.

    Mysterious person: *sigh*...

    Oh-oh! What will happen to Geb and Losien at Toys R US? Will they be able to make five thousand plus whatever the car costed? Will Poster Geb try to claim NYC as his holy capital? Will Geb the writer ever find out where he's going, and who saved him? Maybe you'll find out in a future post of THE NEVERENDING STORY THREAD! Just maybe...


    [This message has been edited by Gebohq (edited September 10, 2001).]
    The Plothole: a home for amateur, inclusive, collaborative stories

  39. #959
    Mopping Up Since 2000
    *Chaos. Hate. Death. Fire illuminates the apocalyptic horizon. Screams of anguish and pain fill the air. Along with the poisonous gas, of course. Helicopter shakily hover over buildings, crazed soldiers hang out of them with armed with automatic weapons, clothed in grenades. These helicopters are immeadiately blown to shrapnel by hand-held stinger missiles. Tank rounds pepper tall, ornate buildings, but these are answered immeadiately by Rocket Propelled Grenades. The distinctive sound of a Nuclear Detonation is heard in the background. A skeletal arm reaches up pleadingly, then disappears under a cloud of explosion…*

    Poster Geb: Welcome to Jerusalem. The Holy City.

    Terrorist 3: Why are we here, again?

    Poster Geb: Well… we need to find a Holy City to wage war in. According to the Terrorist’s Occupational Handbook, Jerusalem is THEE place to be for a Terrorist.

    Terrorist 3: Why?

    Poster Geb: Oh, because most religions can be traced back to Jerusalem. Jesus was crucified here, there are Muslim and Jewish shrines here, Buddha’s fig tree was replanted here, this is Shiva the Multi-armed Hindu God person’s favorite dining spot, the Golden tablets of Mormonism were cast here, L. Ron Hubbard wrote Battlefield Earth here…

    Terrorist 3: Yes. But what about us, Poster Geb, us. What reason do we have to be here?

    Poster Geb: G.A. Ferret originally made the FIRST, Nes post here, on a laptop computer. At least that’s what the NEStian IP address research shows.

    Terrorist #3: And why aren’t you speaking King James’ style anymore?

    Poster Geb: For a Terrorist you’re awfully rude!

    Terrorist #3: Sorry. I apologize. But I thought we were conquering New York in the name of Ares.

    Poster Geb: Well, we’ll conquer Jerusalem in the name of Ares while we’re waiting for our connecting flight.

    Terrorist #3: But what will we blow up first…

    Poster Geb: Dang. All the other GOOD buildings have been blown up first. Guess that’s what happens when you procrastinate. Just let me think…

    *Out of the flaming horizon a silhouette approaches… he appears to be carrying a staff…*

    *As usual, the sillouette resolves itself into a figure. This time the figure is… is…*

    Figure: Hey, guys. My name’s Janitor Bob. Though I guess I’m not a Janitor anymore.

    Poster Geb: What in the name of Morris are you doing here!

    Janitor Bob: ‘Splosions R Us requested that I come to you, for an apprenticeship program. And here I am. Nice to meet ya guys.

    Poster Geb *Putting on his Pastor meeting a new member smile*: Eh… nice to meet you.

    *Poster Geb sticks out his hand, in a friendly gesture*

    Janitor Bob: EWW! I’m not shaking THAT hand. It’s filthy!

    *Poster Geb sticks out his finger, in an unfriendly gesture*

    Janitor Bob: Okay, guys. You’ve got to start teaching me the skills of terrorism.

    Poster Geb: What kinda terrorist weapon is that!

    Janitor Bob: It’s a pushbroom. You can uh… whack infidels on the head with it.

    Terrorist #2: I gotta get me one of those.

    Poster Geb: Okay, the first step to becoming a Terrorist is to really hate a group of people…

    Janitor Bob: Okay… uh… I really hate Tele-tubbies!

    Terrorist #3: You’re an idiot, Bob.

    Janitor Bob: Okay… on the other hand, I’m really starting to hate terrorists.

    Poster Geb: Good Job. That’s a start. Let me show you your first terrorist weapon.

    *Poster Geb gives Bob an electronic C-4 charge*

    Bob: Uh… what do I light?

    Poster Geb *to heaven*: This is going to be a long day. A really long day.

    *Meanwhile, in Toys Backwards ‘R’ Us, Geb and Losien meet after their hirings*

    Geb: So you got hired too, Losien .What were you hired as?

    Losien: Oh… I was hired as a Model. And already there has been a 25% increase of Men shopping in the womans department. Can’t imagine why though.

    Geb: Well, good job, Losien.

    Losien: *mumbling* Thanks. *Brightly* So, what did YOU get hired as, Geb?

    Geb: I don’t want to talk about it.

    Losien: Why are you wearing a “Boomer the Toys R Us Fun Clown” Outfit, Geb

    Geb: I don’t… want… to talk about it…

    *Meanwhile, Geb the writer continues to play ‘Rumplestilzken’ with the Mysterious Figure*

    Geb the Writer: Are you Ugo Employee #5?

    Mysterious Figure: No.

    Geb the Writer: Ominous pilot #3?

    Mysterious Figure: No.
    Geb the Writer: Henchman #2?

    Mysterious Figure: No.

    Geb the Writer: Mysterious Figure #1?

    Mysterious Figure: N… Hey, that’s cheating?

    *[I]Will Janitor Bob EVER get a good handle on Terrorism? Which previously cameod person is the Mysterious Figure? How will Geb fare as a Toys ‘R’ Us Mascot. Shouldn’t Janitor Bob the Writer be working on his Spanish Homework right now? Find out Next time on ‘The Never Ending Story’ Hasta Manana![i/]*

    May the Windex be with you
    -Janitor Jack (Salk Wars)
    "Your entire base belongs to us."
    "It would be highly appreciated if someone would set the bomb up for us"
    "Launch all of our ships, christened 'Zigs', to insure that justice will be achieved swiftly and powerfully."

  40. #960


    As you all (hopefully) should know, the World Trade Center was demolished by terrorists... and by now you're probably sick of hearing about it, but, you guys have been talking about terrorists and demolitionists and NYC... coincidence?

    PS. I'm sorry if anyone here lost relatives. I'm lucky. I live in NJ but I don't know anyone who worked there. Again, I'm sorry. But don't worry, as a Chrisitan, those terrorists will one day be forced to admit that Jesus is Lord!

    "Every knee will bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord!"

    BTW, I joined the Army of God JK clan yesterday. Anyone reading this who has my zname in their zfriend list 'The_Mega_ZZTer' change it to 'AoG_Mega_ZZTer'.

    "Duh, he can't outsmart me, 'cause I'm a moron!"

    -Giant (from some Looney Tunes cartoon, talking about Bugs Bunny)

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