Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy
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MKSheppard
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UPF CHAPTER 19: THE OBJECTIVE INTERIM CHAPTER BEYOND THE CHAPTER AFTER NEXT
With Props to THE GREAT LEADER, Falkenhorst, Illuminatus, Frigidmagi, and Nathan F
Starfleet Headquarters, Admiral Janeway's office
Tom Paris squirmed in his seat in front of Janeway's desk as the Admiral
droned on in her scratchy smoker's voice that made him want to kill her
right then and there.
"So, Commander Paris, I await your detailed report on how three obsolete
D-7 cruisers, almost a hundred years old, managed to disable three modern Starfleet
ships."
Maybe because they didn't have jackasses like you in command?, thought Paris.
Meanwhile, Ensign Stravo was fighting mightly to avoid creaming his pants; it was
indescribable torture; the great Janeway before him, talking in front of him, with every
word she spoke causing a quiver to shoot through his groin.
Suddenly the door opened, the sudden noise causing Stravo to lose control of
his groin muscles and spew manchowder all over the insides of his uniform pants.
Fuck it, not with that dick Paris here... thought Stravo. He started to rise from his
chair to make a quick run for the refresher in Janeway's office, but thought the better
of it when he realized it would make the enormous stain that much more obvious.
"Captain Riker, what the devil happened to you?" said Janeway in
a completely befuddled tone of voice as she took in the disheveled
man standing in the doorway before them.
Goddammit, not a Captain, now I have to rise in honor...a courtmarshal for
disobeying protocol or being found out and them being led to my secret voyeur
collection of Janeway porn... thought Stravo as he contemplated his two fates.
He finally settled onto a compromise between the two choices of action. He quickly
rose from his seat, turning towards Riker, who was far away that he wouldn't notice
the stain, and sitting back down before anyone else noticed.
"I have something to tell you, Admiral," Riker said in an excited voice as he walked into
the office. "I've discovered a secret force working far from known space, one so indescribably
powerful and cruel at the same time, that threatens the very existence of the Federation!"
Janeway blinked for a few moments, considering whether to call the Shrink squad to
have Riker hauled away in a straightjacket, before she decided to hear Riker's tale and
THEN call for the shrink squad.
"It all started a couple of days ago, when I was on the Gnomes' secret asteroid base..."
*Cue Cheesy water droplet fuzzy filter used to segue away to flashbacks*
The Gnome Asteroid Base, Several Days Ago
"Nice fucking thing you did here, sir, getting us trapped here with no way out," muttered one
of the security guards that had followed Riker on his infiltration mission.
Without missing a beat, Riker promptly kicked the man in the groin, and before the stunned
man could respond, Riker was already on top of him, smashing his skull into the hard stony
floor of the cell, where it shortly shattered with a wet crack.
Standing up from the corpse of the former security man, with the man's blood and brains still on his
clothes, Riker looked at the remaining members of his away team. "Right, the next son of a bitch
to challenge my leadership joins that bastard."
Starfleet Headquarters, Admiral Janeway's office
"Wait, wait, you killed a man for insubordination?" asked Paris in disbelief.
Riker merely shrugged. "I was having a bad day, and besides, the son of a bitch was horning
into my Betazed porn ring on the Enterprise."
The Gnome Asteroid Base, 1 Day Into The Ordeal
Several loud bangs and shrieks had reverberated through the asteroid for the last day,
before there had been a massive explosion that had shook the entire asteroid violently.
"I wonder what that explosion was," said one of the men.
"That means we aren't getting home for a while, braniac. I suggest we begin
dividing up Lieutenant Arminus' body. I got dibs on his liver."
"Wait, you mean we're going to eat one of our own?"
"Damn right we are, do you see a fucking restaurant in here, and besides
you hear all that gunfire? Our friends the gnomes are all probably dead
or have fled for their lives. Which leaves us here by our selves until Starfleet
finally gets around to looking for us, and I have no damn intention of starving
myself until then."
Starfleet Headquarters, Admiral Janeway's office
"Now you're eating his corpse?" said Janeway, her eyebrows rising in disbelief.
"I believe it's an acceptable solution at the Starfleet Survival Course since 2321,"
replied Riker in a deadpan monotone.
"I do believe he's right, sir. They told me the same thing when I went through it
a couple of years ago." added Ensign Stravo, resisting the urge to lick his lips in
memory of how tasty Cadet Clark had been.
The Gnome Asteroid Base, 4 Days into the Ordeal
Lieutenant Arminus' corpse had long ago been stripped of the last scrap of flesh,
and now the hungry men were starting on the next delicacy the human body had
to offer; the marrow.
"Right, you just crack the bone open and suck it right out," explained Riker, suppressing
a belch as he did so. Water wasn't a problem, they'd rigged a useable filter out of scraps
of their pants legs that they'd placed over crevices in the walls, forming a useable piss filter,
which was one of the things that was taught to Cadets at Starfleet Academy, if all else failed,
the Mark 5 Jumpsuit could be used as a water filter to filter your own piss.
The Gnome Asteroid Base, 7 Days into the Ordeal
Riker looked at Lieutenant Anderson with hunger in his eyes. Yes, Lieutenant Anderson would
make a fine meal, but first, he had to dispose of him first. Riker slowly picked up a thigh bone
from the pile that had been Lt. Arminus and slowly began to advance on the sleeping man.
It was then that the tritanitum armored door at the entrance to the cell began to bulge inwards from
colossal impacts, the sounds of a creature banging at the door filling the small cell. With a squeal
of overstressed metal, the door peeled off it's hinges, revealing a ragged man with red hair, and
dozens of gnomish skulls impaled on his massive cock.
EINHANDER SAD THAT THE GNOMES ARE NO MORE! THEY COULD ONLY
GIVE HEAD TO HIM ONCE. YOU MIGHT BE MORE USEFUL!
As the freak began to advance towards them, the remaining survivors of the Away team huddled in
a corner of the cell, until Riker, thinking quickly, shoved Lieutenant Anderson towards the monster,
who promptly grabbed Andersons head and forced him to give head.
Poor Anderson didn't stand a chance, as the monsters cock burst out of the back of Anderson's
skull in seconds. But it was enough to distract the monster long enough for the other survivors to
flee around the monster and into the base itself.
Starfleet Headquarters, Admiral Janeway's office
"You sacrificed a man just like that?" asked Stravo, shuddering in revulsion.
"As the great leader Spock once said, the needs of the many outweight the needs
of the few." countered Riker as he took a drink from the replicator by the side of
Janeway's office.
The Gnome Asteroid Base, 7 Days into the Ordeal
Riker and the other survivor of his away team ran through the base, through piles
of Gnomish corpses, slipping several times in the process on Gnomish blood that
hadn't dried up yet since the assault on the base eight days prior.
Suddenly, the corridor in front of them exploded and from the smoking wreckage
came bipedal aliens armed in some kind of combat armor toting what were obviously
weapons of some kind. As they raised them, Riker acted quickly and shoved the only
other survivor of his away team into the line of fire, where he was shredded in a hail
of fire, leaving only a pink mist on the walls of the corridor.
As he cowered on the floor, the leader of the aliens walked up to him, reached over
to a communicator clipped on his belt, and spoke in clear english.
"Objective Interim Armored Bipedal Combat System Beyond Next Alpha Team Leader
reporting in, one target terminated, and one captured."
"There's still one alive? You have failed The Great Leader! You must atone for this
by killing three of your men to reaffirm your loyalty to the Great Leader!"
"Yes, Sir."
Before Riker's stunned eyes, the leader of the new group shot three of his own men dead.
He then turned his attention to the new prisoner. "I suppose the ship's onboard re-education
facilities could use a new chewtoy...send him there!"
Basement of Starfleet Headquarters, Starfleet Marine Corps Office
*Beep*
Slowly, Captain Frigidmagi woke from his slumber in the only room in Starfleet Headquarters'
8,000 rooms devoted to the Starfleet Marine Corps. He was the only Marine on active duty
in all of Starfleet, and when he had reported to the room as a young 2nd Lieutenant fifteen
years ago, he'd relieved a 105-year old General who had been waiting decades for another
Marine to come along and replace him. Now he just waited his time out until another Marine
came forth and rescued him from his subterannean existence, all but forgotten deep in Starfleet
HQ.
Yawning, he looked at his panel, which was wired into every microphone and sensor in Starfleet
headquarters and saw with shock, that someone had mentioned the forbidden words "Objective
Interim". Someone had found out about the HAB, and the HAB had ordered him to keep it's secrets
safe at all costs...
Gulping, he slowly began the process to activicate the anti-founder phaser arrays in the room
where the words had been uttered, and overrode the safety protocols and moved the power
levels up to Level 16...
Starfleet Headquarters, Admiral Janeway's office
"Wait, how'd you get out of this alive?" asked Janeway, in puzzlement.
"Ah, you see, at the same time the enemy was taking me to their ship, a Starfleet
ship decided to call by and see what happened to the Enterprise."
Bridge of the USS Repulse, a Sovereign-class battlecruiser
"Sir, we're detecting only one lifesign aboard the asteroid with a Federation comsignature,"
said the science officer of the Repulse.
"Beam it aboard."
"At this range? Sir, there are severe difficulties in transporting someone this far..."
"I told you to do it, now do it before you find yourself cleaning the toilets, Lieutenant."
USS Repulse, transporter room
"Sir, this is a hard one." shouted the transporter chief.
"Keep at it, I'll get the mop," replied the Lieutenant in charge of the section.
Slowly, the transporter beam resolved itself into a human-shaped being before
flickering out again.
"Goddamnit, I'm losing pattern definition, it's merging with other trace patterns
in the buffer!"
"Boost the goddamn gain, you cocksnorter!" roared the Lieutenant as he pulled
the mop out of the closet where it was kept for cases such as this.
Once again, the tranporter beam resolved into a human being, and this time,
it solidified into William T. Riker. Except he was now naked. And had a vagina
instead of a penis. A greenish one, lined with sharp fangs.
"Oh shit, not again, sir. I told you that we'd have problems if we let that Freudian
use the transporter." muttered the transporter chief.
Bridge of the USS Repulse
"Transport completed, we have the life sign aboard."
"Excellent, raise shields, and go to red alert."
"Sir, we have several small contacts moving in on us at high speed."
"Zoom in and magnify on the main screen."
"What...the DEVIL are those?" shouted the captain of the Repulse.
Cockpit of the lead HAB Fokker DR.LI Triplane
The commander in charge of the elite SJG.32 gruppe signalled with
a red flare for his squadron mates to attack the enemy civilian pleasure craft
life pod (according to HAB and PMoHV terminology, a Sovereign was classed
as a Objective Interim Life Pod, Ultra Light, Civilian)
The HAB maintained a large fleet of Fokker DR.LIs, which by decree of the
Great Leader, had triple wings to allow more wing area to mount ordnance
under, and were open cockpit to allow pilots wearing their Objective Interim
Bipedal Life Support Systems (Light) to enage enemy targets with the pistol
or brick. For easy visual identification, they were painted Objective Interim
Visual Standard Red, using Gnomish blood.
Bridge of the USS Repulse
"Sir, the lead enemy plane has....thrown a brick at us?" remarked
the sensor officer in puzzlement, not really believing his console.
The captain snorted. "Hah, it won't even dent our shields."
Moments later, the 3 pound brick slammed into the frontal shields
at almost 0.9 c, causing massive explosions all over the bridge
as conduits overloaded.
"Sir! Our forward shields are down!"
"Fuck, Set course 090, Maximum warp and get us the fuck out of here!"
shouted the Repulse's captain.
Starfleet Headquarters, Admiral Janeway's office
"...and that's how I escaped."
"Uhm, that's very interesting, Mr. Riker. I'm not sure whether
to believe you or not." replied Janeway, trying to keep a straight face,
at the ludicrous claims Riker was putting forward.
"Goddamnit, do I have to show it to you?" muttered Riker as he began
to pull down his pants.
Basement of Starfleet Headquarters, Starfleet Marine Corps Office
He'd finally overrode the safety interlocks preventing the anti-founder arrays
in the office from firing at Level 16, and Frigidmagi pushed the ACTIVICATE
button.
Starfleet HQ Central Computer Core
The massive computer core, which controlled Starfleet HQ's computers and building
systems was running Windows 2500, and it hadn't been given a critical system update
in the last week by the rather lazy systems operators who kept it running. So a floating
point error occured as it was processing the directive from the Marine Office, causing
the order for phasering Janeway's office to be changed into one phasering the entire
building except for Janeway's office.
All Over Starfleet HQ
People screamed as they were vaporized by the phaser beams, which in turn caused
the carpeting on the floor to catch fire, burning many more to death and suffocating
those in areas unreachable by the phaser beams to death by smoke inhalation from
the highly toxic standard federation carpet, which as it burned, produced radioactive
fallout, due to the highly unstable nuclear processes utilized by the cheap replicator
corporations in former China that produced the stuff at low cost for Starfleet.
Several Days Later, Tijuana, Mexico
Janeway sat on the bed in the seedy motel room on the other side of the former border and
drained a bottle of Tequilia. It had been a bitch after the great fire at Starfleet HQ to smuggle
her and her lover Stravo across the old border, because even in the 24th century, there was
a big illegal transportation network, requiring a network of transporter scramblers to keep
illegal passage to a minimum.
"All right, sweetie, lets do it." growled Janeway as she motioned towards Stravo.
Passchendale City, HAB Capital World
Frigidmagi knelt before THE GREAT LEADER in terror. He'd failed in his mission
to eliminate all knowledge of the HAB in Starfleet. God knows what kind of terrors waited
for him in the People's Museum of Heroic Vehicles.
Strangely enough, the Great Leader was in a good mood.
"Even though you totally, utterly failed in your objective of securing our secrecy, The
Great Leader is pleased by the mass slaughter at Starfleet Hedquarters and has
decided as such to place you on extended sentance probation, meaning The Great
Leader can order your execution at any time until you have sufficiently redeemed
yourself," rumbled Kim Jong Il the 86th.
With Props to THE GREAT LEADER, Falkenhorst, Illuminatus, Frigidmagi, and Nathan F
Starfleet Headquarters, Admiral Janeway's office
Tom Paris squirmed in his seat in front of Janeway's desk as the Admiral
droned on in her scratchy smoker's voice that made him want to kill her
right then and there.
"So, Commander Paris, I await your detailed report on how three obsolete
D-7 cruisers, almost a hundred years old, managed to disable three modern Starfleet
ships."
Maybe because they didn't have jackasses like you in command?, thought Paris.
Meanwhile, Ensign Stravo was fighting mightly to avoid creaming his pants; it was
indescribable torture; the great Janeway before him, talking in front of him, with every
word she spoke causing a quiver to shoot through his groin.
Suddenly the door opened, the sudden noise causing Stravo to lose control of
his groin muscles and spew manchowder all over the insides of his uniform pants.
Fuck it, not with that dick Paris here... thought Stravo. He started to rise from his
chair to make a quick run for the refresher in Janeway's office, but thought the better
of it when he realized it would make the enormous stain that much more obvious.
"Captain Riker, what the devil happened to you?" said Janeway in
a completely befuddled tone of voice as she took in the disheveled
man standing in the doorway before them.
Goddammit, not a Captain, now I have to rise in honor...a courtmarshal for
disobeying protocol or being found out and them being led to my secret voyeur
collection of Janeway porn... thought Stravo as he contemplated his two fates.
He finally settled onto a compromise between the two choices of action. He quickly
rose from his seat, turning towards Riker, who was far away that he wouldn't notice
the stain, and sitting back down before anyone else noticed.
"I have something to tell you, Admiral," Riker said in an excited voice as he walked into
the office. "I've discovered a secret force working far from known space, one so indescribably
powerful and cruel at the same time, that threatens the very existence of the Federation!"
Janeway blinked for a few moments, considering whether to call the Shrink squad to
have Riker hauled away in a straightjacket, before she decided to hear Riker's tale and
THEN call for the shrink squad.
"It all started a couple of days ago, when I was on the Gnomes' secret asteroid base..."
*Cue Cheesy water droplet fuzzy filter used to segue away to flashbacks*
The Gnome Asteroid Base, Several Days Ago
"Nice fucking thing you did here, sir, getting us trapped here with no way out," muttered one
of the security guards that had followed Riker on his infiltration mission.
Without missing a beat, Riker promptly kicked the man in the groin, and before the stunned
man could respond, Riker was already on top of him, smashing his skull into the hard stony
floor of the cell, where it shortly shattered with a wet crack.
Standing up from the corpse of the former security man, with the man's blood and brains still on his
clothes, Riker looked at the remaining members of his away team. "Right, the next son of a bitch
to challenge my leadership joins that bastard."
Starfleet Headquarters, Admiral Janeway's office
"Wait, wait, you killed a man for insubordination?" asked Paris in disbelief.
Riker merely shrugged. "I was having a bad day, and besides, the son of a bitch was horning
into my Betazed porn ring on the Enterprise."
The Gnome Asteroid Base, 1 Day Into The Ordeal
Several loud bangs and shrieks had reverberated through the asteroid for the last day,
before there had been a massive explosion that had shook the entire asteroid violently.
"I wonder what that explosion was," said one of the men.
"That means we aren't getting home for a while, braniac. I suggest we begin
dividing up Lieutenant Arminus' body. I got dibs on his liver."
"Wait, you mean we're going to eat one of our own?"
"Damn right we are, do you see a fucking restaurant in here, and besides
you hear all that gunfire? Our friends the gnomes are all probably dead
or have fled for their lives. Which leaves us here by our selves until Starfleet
finally gets around to looking for us, and I have no damn intention of starving
myself until then."
Starfleet Headquarters, Admiral Janeway's office
"Now you're eating his corpse?" said Janeway, her eyebrows rising in disbelief.
"I believe it's an acceptable solution at the Starfleet Survival Course since 2321,"
replied Riker in a deadpan monotone.
"I do believe he's right, sir. They told me the same thing when I went through it
a couple of years ago." added Ensign Stravo, resisting the urge to lick his lips in
memory of how tasty Cadet Clark had been.
The Gnome Asteroid Base, 4 Days into the Ordeal
Lieutenant Arminus' corpse had long ago been stripped of the last scrap of flesh,
and now the hungry men were starting on the next delicacy the human body had
to offer; the marrow.
"Right, you just crack the bone open and suck it right out," explained Riker, suppressing
a belch as he did so. Water wasn't a problem, they'd rigged a useable filter out of scraps
of their pants legs that they'd placed over crevices in the walls, forming a useable piss filter,
which was one of the things that was taught to Cadets at Starfleet Academy, if all else failed,
the Mark 5 Jumpsuit could be used as a water filter to filter your own piss.
The Gnome Asteroid Base, 7 Days into the Ordeal
Riker looked at Lieutenant Anderson with hunger in his eyes. Yes, Lieutenant Anderson would
make a fine meal, but first, he had to dispose of him first. Riker slowly picked up a thigh bone
from the pile that had been Lt. Arminus and slowly began to advance on the sleeping man.
It was then that the tritanitum armored door at the entrance to the cell began to bulge inwards from
colossal impacts, the sounds of a creature banging at the door filling the small cell. With a squeal
of overstressed metal, the door peeled off it's hinges, revealing a ragged man with red hair, and
dozens of gnomish skulls impaled on his massive cock.
EINHANDER SAD THAT THE GNOMES ARE NO MORE! THEY COULD ONLY
GIVE HEAD TO HIM ONCE. YOU MIGHT BE MORE USEFUL!
As the freak began to advance towards them, the remaining survivors of the Away team huddled in
a corner of the cell, until Riker, thinking quickly, shoved Lieutenant Anderson towards the monster,
who promptly grabbed Andersons head and forced him to give head.
Poor Anderson didn't stand a chance, as the monsters cock burst out of the back of Anderson's
skull in seconds. But it was enough to distract the monster long enough for the other survivors to
flee around the monster and into the base itself.
Starfleet Headquarters, Admiral Janeway's office
"You sacrificed a man just like that?" asked Stravo, shuddering in revulsion.
"As the great leader Spock once said, the needs of the many outweight the needs
of the few." countered Riker as he took a drink from the replicator by the side of
Janeway's office.
The Gnome Asteroid Base, 7 Days into the Ordeal
Riker and the other survivor of his away team ran through the base, through piles
of Gnomish corpses, slipping several times in the process on Gnomish blood that
hadn't dried up yet since the assault on the base eight days prior.
Suddenly, the corridor in front of them exploded and from the smoking wreckage
came bipedal aliens armed in some kind of combat armor toting what were obviously
weapons of some kind. As they raised them, Riker acted quickly and shoved the only
other survivor of his away team into the line of fire, where he was shredded in a hail
of fire, leaving only a pink mist on the walls of the corridor.
As he cowered on the floor, the leader of the aliens walked up to him, reached over
to a communicator clipped on his belt, and spoke in clear english.
"Objective Interim Armored Bipedal Combat System Beyond Next Alpha Team Leader
reporting in, one target terminated, and one captured."
"There's still one alive? You have failed The Great Leader! You must atone for this
by killing three of your men to reaffirm your loyalty to the Great Leader!"
"Yes, Sir."
Before Riker's stunned eyes, the leader of the new group shot three of his own men dead.
He then turned his attention to the new prisoner. "I suppose the ship's onboard re-education
facilities could use a new chewtoy...send him there!"
Basement of Starfleet Headquarters, Starfleet Marine Corps Office
*Beep*
Slowly, Captain Frigidmagi woke from his slumber in the only room in Starfleet Headquarters'
8,000 rooms devoted to the Starfleet Marine Corps. He was the only Marine on active duty
in all of Starfleet, and when he had reported to the room as a young 2nd Lieutenant fifteen
years ago, he'd relieved a 105-year old General who had been waiting decades for another
Marine to come along and replace him. Now he just waited his time out until another Marine
came forth and rescued him from his subterannean existence, all but forgotten deep in Starfleet
HQ.
Yawning, he looked at his panel, which was wired into every microphone and sensor in Starfleet
headquarters and saw with shock, that someone had mentioned the forbidden words "Objective
Interim". Someone had found out about the HAB, and the HAB had ordered him to keep it's secrets
safe at all costs...
Gulping, he slowly began the process to activicate the anti-founder phaser arrays in the room
where the words had been uttered, and overrode the safety protocols and moved the power
levels up to Level 16...
Starfleet Headquarters, Admiral Janeway's office
"Wait, how'd you get out of this alive?" asked Janeway, in puzzlement.
"Ah, you see, at the same time the enemy was taking me to their ship, a Starfleet
ship decided to call by and see what happened to the Enterprise."
Bridge of the USS Repulse, a Sovereign-class battlecruiser
"Sir, we're detecting only one lifesign aboard the asteroid with a Federation comsignature,"
said the science officer of the Repulse.
"Beam it aboard."
"At this range? Sir, there are severe difficulties in transporting someone this far..."
"I told you to do it, now do it before you find yourself cleaning the toilets, Lieutenant."
USS Repulse, transporter room
"Sir, this is a hard one." shouted the transporter chief.
"Keep at it, I'll get the mop," replied the Lieutenant in charge of the section.
Slowly, the transporter beam resolved itself into a human-shaped being before
flickering out again.
"Goddamnit, I'm losing pattern definition, it's merging with other trace patterns
in the buffer!"
"Boost the goddamn gain, you cocksnorter!" roared the Lieutenant as he pulled
the mop out of the closet where it was kept for cases such as this.
Once again, the tranporter beam resolved into a human being, and this time,
it solidified into William T. Riker. Except he was now naked. And had a vagina
instead of a penis. A greenish one, lined with sharp fangs.
"Oh shit, not again, sir. I told you that we'd have problems if we let that Freudian
use the transporter." muttered the transporter chief.
Bridge of the USS Repulse
"Transport completed, we have the life sign aboard."
"Excellent, raise shields, and go to red alert."
"Sir, we have several small contacts moving in on us at high speed."
"Zoom in and magnify on the main screen."
"What...the DEVIL are those?" shouted the captain of the Repulse.
Cockpit of the lead HAB Fokker DR.LI Triplane
The commander in charge of the elite SJG.32 gruppe signalled with
a red flare for his squadron mates to attack the enemy civilian pleasure craft
life pod (according to HAB and PMoHV terminology, a Sovereign was classed
as a Objective Interim Life Pod, Ultra Light, Civilian)
The HAB maintained a large fleet of Fokker DR.LIs, which by decree of the
Great Leader, had triple wings to allow more wing area to mount ordnance
under, and were open cockpit to allow pilots wearing their Objective Interim
Bipedal Life Support Systems (Light) to enage enemy targets with the pistol
or brick. For easy visual identification, they were painted Objective Interim
Visual Standard Red, using Gnomish blood.
Bridge of the USS Repulse
"Sir, the lead enemy plane has....thrown a brick at us?" remarked
the sensor officer in puzzlement, not really believing his console.
The captain snorted. "Hah, it won't even dent our shields."
Moments later, the 3 pound brick slammed into the frontal shields
at almost 0.9 c, causing massive explosions all over the bridge
as conduits overloaded.
"Sir! Our forward shields are down!"
"Fuck, Set course 090, Maximum warp and get us the fuck out of here!"
shouted the Repulse's captain.
Starfleet Headquarters, Admiral Janeway's office
"...and that's how I escaped."
"Uhm, that's very interesting, Mr. Riker. I'm not sure whether
to believe you or not." replied Janeway, trying to keep a straight face,
at the ludicrous claims Riker was putting forward.
"Goddamnit, do I have to show it to you?" muttered Riker as he began
to pull down his pants.
Basement of Starfleet Headquarters, Starfleet Marine Corps Office
He'd finally overrode the safety interlocks preventing the anti-founder arrays
in the office from firing at Level 16, and Frigidmagi pushed the ACTIVICATE
button.
Starfleet HQ Central Computer Core
The massive computer core, which controlled Starfleet HQ's computers and building
systems was running Windows 2500, and it hadn't been given a critical system update
in the last week by the rather lazy systems operators who kept it running. So a floating
point error occured as it was processing the directive from the Marine Office, causing
the order for phasering Janeway's office to be changed into one phasering the entire
building except for Janeway's office.
All Over Starfleet HQ
People screamed as they were vaporized by the phaser beams, which in turn caused
the carpeting on the floor to catch fire, burning many more to death and suffocating
those in areas unreachable by the phaser beams to death by smoke inhalation from
the highly toxic standard federation carpet, which as it burned, produced radioactive
fallout, due to the highly unstable nuclear processes utilized by the cheap replicator
corporations in former China that produced the stuff at low cost for Starfleet.
Several Days Later, Tijuana, Mexico
Janeway sat on the bed in the seedy motel room on the other side of the former border and
drained a bottle of Tequilia. It had been a bitch after the great fire at Starfleet HQ to smuggle
her and her lover Stravo across the old border, because even in the 24th century, there was
a big illegal transportation network, requiring a network of transporter scramblers to keep
illegal passage to a minimum.
"All right, sweetie, lets do it." growled Janeway as she motioned towards Stravo.
Passchendale City, HAB Capital World
Frigidmagi knelt before THE GREAT LEADER in terror. He'd failed in his mission
to eliminate all knowledge of the HAB in Starfleet. God knows what kind of terrors waited
for him in the People's Museum of Heroic Vehicles.
Strangely enough, the Great Leader was in a good mood.
"Even though you totally, utterly failed in your objective of securing our secrecy, The
Great Leader is pleased by the mass slaughter at Starfleet Hedquarters and has
decided as such to place you on extended sentance probation, meaning The Great
Leader can order your execution at any time until you have sufficiently redeemed
yourself," rumbled Kim Jong Il the 86th.
"If scientists and inventors who develop disease cures and useful technologies don't get lifetime royalties, I'd like to know what fucking rationale you have for some guy getting lifetime royalties for writing an episode of Full House." - Mike Wong
"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944
"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944
.-
Singular Quartet
- Sith Marauder
- Posts: 3896
- Joined: 2002-07-04 05:33pm
- Location: This is sky. It is made of FUCKING and LIMIT.
-
darthdavid
- Pathetic Attention Whore
- Posts: 5470
- Joined: 2003-02-17 12:04pm
- Location: Bat Country!
-
Sea Skimmer
- Yankee Capitalist Air Pirate
- Posts: 37389
- Joined: 2002-07-03 11:49pm
- Location: Passchendaele City, HAB
Muahaha, excellent work comrade. I espically like the quality of future Chinese products, I would trust that Star Fleet also makes extensive of use of space polyester for its fire fighting uniforms?
"This cult of special forces is as sensible as to form a Royal Corps of Tree Climbers and say that no soldier who does not wear its green hat with a bunch of oak leaves stuck in it should be expected to climb a tree"
— Field Marshal William Slim 1956
— Field Marshal William Slim 1956
-
MKSheppard
- Ruthless Genocidal Warmonger
- Posts: 29842
- Joined: 2002-07-06 06:34pm
UPF Chapter 20: The Farscape Special Edition of UPF
By Darth Fanboy, recovered from a total hard drive failure by Shep who had a copy on his email
"Chianna, What the fuck?"
John Crichton awoke to find himself covered in a thin layer of mucousy Nebari female ejaculate, attempts
to scrub the slimy concoction from his body were futile. Chianna had come in his room the night before with
her usual craving for male affection. Normally, Crichton never let her go past oral but he had been drinking
heavily to try and forget about Aeryn, she was acting like a creepy bull dyke after she met the mysterious
aliens from the far off planet of Zeon. She had shaved her head and added flame decals to the side of
her Prowler while constantly booby trapping Rygel's quarters.
He had no idea that unchecked Nebari women like herself could produce come at a rate surpassing
that of any sentinent species in the known galaxy, and he was reminded of a time when she rode
Dargo's tentacles in the Starburst Chamber. Moya's efficency levels were less than half of their usual rate
for almost a week, and pilot kept bubbling slime out of his mouth for the entire time period.
Looking to the corner of the room where she was fingering herself frantically in a futile attempt to replicate
the previous night's ectasy, he stared. It took over two hours for Zan and the DRDs to free him, with Zan
taking some of the slime for her own benefit. Apparently Nebari come also worked as a potent neurotoxin
in certain species. Hence why Nebari Cunnilingus was outlawed on certain worlds. The now-clean Crichton
found Dargo in his quarters, sulking.
"What's a matter big guy?"
"Bah."
"You sore that I banged your ex-girlfriend?"
"No, i'm sore because I did bang her, and then after we finished she had to go over to your quarters to
finish herself off. What kind of Luxan am I if I can't even please a nyphomaniac like that?"
"If it makes you feel any better, I just spent the better part of the morning cleaning her fucking slime
off of me, that bitch is too out of control."
"I agree, I mean its nice that we can rent her out whenever we need to, but this is goddamn ridiculous.
You realize I caught her the other day below Moya's control console licking Pilot?"
"Do I dare ask where she was licking him?"
"Well she claims that she spilled some tea and was trying not to waste it, but Pilot said his asshole hadn't
been that clean since before he was plugged into Moya."
"You mean she's doing that and we're taking turns letting her go down on us? This is so not right."
"That's not all, i'm pretty sure she's got some sort of VD."
Crichton was really nervous when he heard that. "Wha? How can you tell?"
"Well for one this you've got sores all over your skin."
Crichton looked down at his skin, sure enough pus fulled sores began rising and bursting all over his skin,
creating a burning itch. It was as if his skin had become a boiling river of pus.
"Remember when I first came to Moya, and you gave me that initiation?"
"Yeah I remember, I still don't know what that stuff you call 'vaseline' is."
"Never mind how much that hurt, but I was wondering if you've still got that little dungeon intact."
"I go down there and oil the chains every so often in case of emergencies."
"All right, here's the plan then. I'll have Zan mix up a pot of fake semen, and we'll make a trail down to the
dungeon room. then once she's in, you'll lock her inside and give her whats coming to her."
"And where will you be?"
"Getting some fucking penicillin!"
Meanwhile, aboard the Command Carrier
Scorpius hung by his ankles from the ceiling as Braca, his Gimp-Garbed manservant tightened the
choke collar. He adored pain almost as much as he enjoyed dealing it out, as Braca would find out
soon enough. Usually the manservant was much better at performing his tasks but the other day he
had made the mistake of using hot candle wax. Scorpius endured so as not to appear weak before
his bitch, but his low tolerance for heat made the torment almost unbearable.
It would all be rectified soon though, Scorpius' Gammake researchers had provided him with the latest in
Peacekeeper rectal torture devices, designed for maximum pain without causing the subject to black
out from intense bleeding and stretching.
Oh yes it would be a wonderful experience indeed, perhaps he would even film it...
On Board Moya
Pilot's screams began sounding across the ship, a shrill wail that sounded as if he was being buggered by
lucifer himself! "Moya's proximity alarms are going crazy!"
Crichton was the first to reach Pilot, Dargo was delayed as he had to run across the entire length of the
Leviathan from his makeshift dungeon, where Chianna's punishment was entering its third day. He ran into
the room cursing and muttering to himself, clenching his buttcheeks together as the fouler aspect of his
new STD was beginning to affect his colon.
"Whatever it is Pilot hurry up, I gotta drop some kids off at the pool! What the hell is wrong with Moya!"
Crichton sat down and squeezed his legs tightly together, hoping he could induce some sort of manual
constipation.
"I don't understand John Crichton, one moment we were travelling through space, and suddenly we picked
up another ship on our long range scanners, suddenly Moya starts freaking out, I don't know whats going
on! Game over man, game over!"
Aeryn stormed into the room and pushed Crichton off of his seat, causing him to momentarily lose control
and allowing a short burst of steaming semi-fluid shit into his pants. Instantly, she started bitching.
"Pilot! If you don't get this flying bitch under control Im going to grab you by the nuts and twist them around so
many times that when I let go they'll spin around so fast they'll fly away from your putrid loins and end up in a waste chute!"
"I'm trying Aeryn Sun, but Moya is responding to something on that freighter, there's nothing I can do right now!"
Crichton struggled back into his seat, legs tightly clenched. "Calm down you stupid cunt! We'll figure something
out a lot quicker if you'd tuck that huge dick of yours between your legs and start using your damn brain!"
Aeryn moved over to Crichton and punched him in the gut hard, causing the contents of his intestinal tract to
empty with great force, she then reached around behind him and grabbed the waistband of his underwear
and gave him a thorough wedgie. Crichton now had a substantial mud flap wedged tightly in his crevice,
but at least he no longer had to take a shit.
Moya's great speed allowed her to overtake the small freighter soon, crashing into it with great force. The impact
brought everyone on board off of their feet, except for Rygel who tumbled out of his chair and into the toilet which
he was precariously hovering over, he struggled to emerge from the bowl and he was now completely covered in
the digested and rancid contents of his three stomachs.
D'Argo and Zan finally showed up and the crew gathered to watch the developments on screen when another collision
rocked them off their feet, and another collision, and another, and another.
D'Argo smirked, "If I didn't know any better i'd say Moya was humping the snot out of that freighter." Zan immediately
perked up as she heard this.
"Pilot, what is the status of Moya's lust deprivation systems?"
"Coolant levels have fallen to under forty percent and are dropping steadily. There appears to be a malfunction in
one of the main valves!"
"Can the DRD's fix it?"
"Moya has assigned all DRD's to C deck to provide electrical stimulation to certain sections of the ship."
"Then we will have to wait until Moya tires herself out and then fix the problem."
Without warning a transmission began beaming in from the other ship.
"Unknown Leviathan, this is the Freighter 'Plot Device', please cease your attack! We are carrying highly volatile
fuel to a waystation in a nearby sector. If we take too much more of your ship's dry humping we're all gonna blow up!"
D'Argo just sat there and sighed. "Why didn't someone tell me we had to spay the ship...."
Crichton started laughing, "Spay...Ship...Spayship...Spaceship! Bwahahahaha! That's hilarious!"
By Darth Fanboy, recovered from a total hard drive failure by Shep who had a copy on his email
"Chianna, What the fuck?"
John Crichton awoke to find himself covered in a thin layer of mucousy Nebari female ejaculate, attempts
to scrub the slimy concoction from his body were futile. Chianna had come in his room the night before with
her usual craving for male affection. Normally, Crichton never let her go past oral but he had been drinking
heavily to try and forget about Aeryn, she was acting like a creepy bull dyke after she met the mysterious
aliens from the far off planet of Zeon. She had shaved her head and added flame decals to the side of
her Prowler while constantly booby trapping Rygel's quarters.
He had no idea that unchecked Nebari women like herself could produce come at a rate surpassing
that of any sentinent species in the known galaxy, and he was reminded of a time when she rode
Dargo's tentacles in the Starburst Chamber. Moya's efficency levels were less than half of their usual rate
for almost a week, and pilot kept bubbling slime out of his mouth for the entire time period.
Looking to the corner of the room where she was fingering herself frantically in a futile attempt to replicate
the previous night's ectasy, he stared. It took over two hours for Zan and the DRDs to free him, with Zan
taking some of the slime for her own benefit. Apparently Nebari come also worked as a potent neurotoxin
in certain species. Hence why Nebari Cunnilingus was outlawed on certain worlds. The now-clean Crichton
found Dargo in his quarters, sulking.
"What's a matter big guy?"
"Bah."
"You sore that I banged your ex-girlfriend?"
"No, i'm sore because I did bang her, and then after we finished she had to go over to your quarters to
finish herself off. What kind of Luxan am I if I can't even please a nyphomaniac like that?"
"If it makes you feel any better, I just spent the better part of the morning cleaning her fucking slime
off of me, that bitch is too out of control."
"I agree, I mean its nice that we can rent her out whenever we need to, but this is goddamn ridiculous.
You realize I caught her the other day below Moya's control console licking Pilot?"
"Do I dare ask where she was licking him?"
"Well she claims that she spilled some tea and was trying not to waste it, but Pilot said his asshole hadn't
been that clean since before he was plugged into Moya."
"You mean she's doing that and we're taking turns letting her go down on us? This is so not right."
"That's not all, i'm pretty sure she's got some sort of VD."
Crichton was really nervous when he heard that. "Wha? How can you tell?"
"Well for one this you've got sores all over your skin."
Crichton looked down at his skin, sure enough pus fulled sores began rising and bursting all over his skin,
creating a burning itch. It was as if his skin had become a boiling river of pus.
"Remember when I first came to Moya, and you gave me that initiation?"
"Yeah I remember, I still don't know what that stuff you call 'vaseline' is."
"Never mind how much that hurt, but I was wondering if you've still got that little dungeon intact."
"I go down there and oil the chains every so often in case of emergencies."
"All right, here's the plan then. I'll have Zan mix up a pot of fake semen, and we'll make a trail down to the
dungeon room. then once she's in, you'll lock her inside and give her whats coming to her."
"And where will you be?"
"Getting some fucking penicillin!"
Meanwhile, aboard the Command Carrier
Scorpius hung by his ankles from the ceiling as Braca, his Gimp-Garbed manservant tightened the
choke collar. He adored pain almost as much as he enjoyed dealing it out, as Braca would find out
soon enough. Usually the manservant was much better at performing his tasks but the other day he
had made the mistake of using hot candle wax. Scorpius endured so as not to appear weak before
his bitch, but his low tolerance for heat made the torment almost unbearable.
It would all be rectified soon though, Scorpius' Gammake researchers had provided him with the latest in
Peacekeeper rectal torture devices, designed for maximum pain without causing the subject to black
out from intense bleeding and stretching.
Oh yes it would be a wonderful experience indeed, perhaps he would even film it...
On Board Moya
Pilot's screams began sounding across the ship, a shrill wail that sounded as if he was being buggered by
lucifer himself! "Moya's proximity alarms are going crazy!"
Crichton was the first to reach Pilot, Dargo was delayed as he had to run across the entire length of the
Leviathan from his makeshift dungeon, where Chianna's punishment was entering its third day. He ran into
the room cursing and muttering to himself, clenching his buttcheeks together as the fouler aspect of his
new STD was beginning to affect his colon.
"Whatever it is Pilot hurry up, I gotta drop some kids off at the pool! What the hell is wrong with Moya!"
Crichton sat down and squeezed his legs tightly together, hoping he could induce some sort of manual
constipation.
"I don't understand John Crichton, one moment we were travelling through space, and suddenly we picked
up another ship on our long range scanners, suddenly Moya starts freaking out, I don't know whats going
on! Game over man, game over!"
Aeryn stormed into the room and pushed Crichton off of his seat, causing him to momentarily lose control
and allowing a short burst of steaming semi-fluid shit into his pants. Instantly, she started bitching.
"Pilot! If you don't get this flying bitch under control Im going to grab you by the nuts and twist them around so
many times that when I let go they'll spin around so fast they'll fly away from your putrid loins and end up in a waste chute!"
"I'm trying Aeryn Sun, but Moya is responding to something on that freighter, there's nothing I can do right now!"
Crichton struggled back into his seat, legs tightly clenched. "Calm down you stupid cunt! We'll figure something
out a lot quicker if you'd tuck that huge dick of yours between your legs and start using your damn brain!"
Aeryn moved over to Crichton and punched him in the gut hard, causing the contents of his intestinal tract to
empty with great force, she then reached around behind him and grabbed the waistband of his underwear
and gave him a thorough wedgie. Crichton now had a substantial mud flap wedged tightly in his crevice,
but at least he no longer had to take a shit.
Moya's great speed allowed her to overtake the small freighter soon, crashing into it with great force. The impact
brought everyone on board off of their feet, except for Rygel who tumbled out of his chair and into the toilet which
he was precariously hovering over, he struggled to emerge from the bowl and he was now completely covered in
the digested and rancid contents of his three stomachs.
D'Argo and Zan finally showed up and the crew gathered to watch the developments on screen when another collision
rocked them off their feet, and another collision, and another, and another.
D'Argo smirked, "If I didn't know any better i'd say Moya was humping the snot out of that freighter." Zan immediately
perked up as she heard this.
"Pilot, what is the status of Moya's lust deprivation systems?"
"Coolant levels have fallen to under forty percent and are dropping steadily. There appears to be a malfunction in
one of the main valves!"
"Can the DRD's fix it?"
"Moya has assigned all DRD's to C deck to provide electrical stimulation to certain sections of the ship."
"Then we will have to wait until Moya tires herself out and then fix the problem."
Without warning a transmission began beaming in from the other ship.
"Unknown Leviathan, this is the Freighter 'Plot Device', please cease your attack! We are carrying highly volatile
fuel to a waystation in a nearby sector. If we take too much more of your ship's dry humping we're all gonna blow up!"
D'Argo just sat there and sighed. "Why didn't someone tell me we had to spay the ship...."
Crichton started laughing, "Spay...Ship...Spayship...Spaceship! Bwahahahaha! That's hilarious!"
"If scientists and inventors who develop disease cures and useful technologies don't get lifetime royalties, I'd like to know what fucking rationale you have for some guy getting lifetime royalties for writing an episode of Full House." - Mike Wong
"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944
"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944
-
MKSheppard
- Ruthless Genocidal Warmonger
- Posts: 29842
- Joined: 2002-07-06 06:34pm
UPF Chapter 21: We're as broke as Michael Jackson!
By Darth Fanboy in Gnome Hunter Style, expounded into coherent narrative format by Shep
The Federation and Principality of Zeon were on the brink of war due to Miles O'Brien's kidnapping,
the massive Federation fleet had been brought to the border of the Principality, and on the other
side, an equally mighty fleet of refitted D-7s hung in space.
Although the D7s seemed inactive, their battle-hardened feminist crews stood at the ready,
running through practice battles in preparation for the battle to come, while the Federation
crews were confident in their new technological edge brought about by the Kill-O-Matic
class, with it's impressive NUKEY NUKEY-equipped photon torpedoes.
The exquisitely plotted and detailed battle was about to commence in a stream of phaser fire
and explosions, in which many ships would explode, and thousands would die....
*Computer image dissipates, model starships hang limp in front of an inactive green screen.*
"Cut, Cut, CUT!" shouted Sheppard, who was wearing a George Lucas-style sweater, and
a ball cap emblazoned with the logo of UPF.
"The fuck is going on Shep? We got a big fucking scene going on here thats gonna kick
more ass than Paul Bunyan punting a fuckin donkey, and you stop it! Our fans will have our
blood!" shouted Fanboy as he came out of the pyro bunker where he had been ready to
fire the explosive squibs that would blow the exquisitely detailed models into smithereens.
"We got a big fucking problem, Fanboy. We're broke," grumbled Sheppard as he shouted for
the prop people to go home, and that they were all fired as well, don't bother coming back
tomorrow.
"You bastard! What about our paychecks?" shouted the lead SFX artist, someone they'd lured
away from ILM with promises of money and hookers.
"The checks are in the mail," said Sheppard, lying through his teeth.
"Broke? What the fuck? What about all the money we made from Chapters 1 to 20?" shouted
Fanboy as he kicked the rear end of one of the departing SFX artists. "Get out you scumbag,
and don't visit the catering trailer on the way out, you bastard!"
"Spent it all on props and effects," replied Sheppard laconically.
"The fuck you say, don't we have that numbered swiss bank account filled to the loot with
Nazi Gold?"
"Do you have any fuckin' idea how fucking' expensive gnome guts are? Especially when
it's the real thing?"
"Shit, we never should have done that, but I liked seeing the gnomes being slaughtered by
our set decorators...but god damn it man," Fanboy rolled up his right sleeve, revealing a heavily
scarred arm.
"I fuckin' sold my blood for eight weeks in a row, and you're now saying it's all disappeared,
every last cent of it?"
Sheppard threw his megaphone across the room in anger, the cheap plastic casing of the
megaphone splintering as it hit the concrete floor, spilling it's electronic guts all over the
studio floor.
"Goddamnit, I know how you feel, but Zaia's agent quadrupled her fees without telling us,
the first thing I knew was when we got a itemized expense sheet from her agent demanding
$999,999 in back pay."
Fanboy blinked in surprise. "Wait, what about the money from the sperm bank from our
regular visits?"
Sheppard got out of his chair and started to scream. "You fuckhead, you had to go and
do Gnome Hunter II, and now we're broke, BROKE! You spent the money
I was going to use to build my own personal B-70, you bastard!"
"Shit. Fuck. We need cash, I got an idea."
Fanboy reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a balaclava. As he was starting
to pull it over his head, Sheppard interrupted him.
"Fuck no, you don't need to knock a 7-11 off, I got an idea."
*The Next Day*
The American Idol set had been appropriated with much speediness that night, and
the entire cast and crew of American Idol was now tied up with duct tape inside the
bathrooms of the Studio building.
Sitting in the position where formerly the star of American Idol had sat, was none other
than Einhander Snowman, who was wearing a skintight suit that left nothing to the
imagination.
"HEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLO ladies and gentlemen, it's with great pleasure that I bring you the
first ever UPF BACHELOR AUCTION! Now a lot of you are probably asking
why I'm hosting this event and not bidding on all the good looking boys myself."
"Well, I spent all of my damn money on herbal remedies and an apartment in Amsterdam. Plus,
I'd do damn near anything for a cutie like Shep!"
Einhander then winked at someone who was standing off stage before continuing with his
prepared lines.
"So without any further ado, lets get our first piece of meat up on the stage! He's a UPF co-creator
with a penchant for the Confederacy, Firearms, and Homemade Pudding. Ladies, give your lust to
FALKENHORST!"
Falkenhorst then walked out from between a pair of curtains onto the stage in a full-dress Wehrmacht
uniform, with a few significant differences. One, it was a bright sparkling purple, and two, it had Leopard
skin trim.
"Ohmygod! Looks like he's been costume shopping with Prince Harry!"
"Sup," announced Falkenhorst in a low voice that could be barely heard.
"Okay, ladies, we'll start the bidding at...." began Einhander, before a girly shriek interrupted him.
"500,000 YEN!" shouted a pair of Japanese schoolgirls in black SS uniforms as they waved their
money frantically in the air, and talked in an unintelligable and excited stream of Japanese.
"SOLD! Sold to the two hot chicks in the Himmler duds!" yelled Falkenhorst upon seeing them.
"Uh wait, Falk. Can't we take more bids?" replied Einhander, who was obviously confused at
this turn of events. "What about that woman over there who wants to bid on you?"
"I don't see anyone else. SOLD to the hot asian chickies! Let's go! Move it along!" yelled Falk
as he stepped off the stage and into the arms of the two Japanese schoolgirls.
"Uh, what the fuck?" muttered Einhander as he watched Rosie "The Hutt" O'Donell stop waving
a stack of $100 bills in the air and resume gnawing on a chicken wing.
"Uhh, fuck, that was fast. Okay, up next is one of the more intelligent men around, he's an artist
with a penchant for witty banter! Give it up for DURANDAL! Ooh, daddy shouldn't have paid
the rent this month, just look at him!"
Durandal walked onto the runway, preening his well combed hair as he did so. "Oh baby, I'm so right
for you, I'm sizzling."
"We'll start the bidding at twenty bucks," announced Einhander.
"Twenty!" shouted a pretty-looking girl.
"Twenty-five!" shouted an even hotter looking chick.
"Thirty!" shouted a busty co-ed whose bosom was overflowing with
bosomy goodness that almost overpowered the skintight tee-shirt
she was wearing.
"I'll Give y'all fitty bucks fer the hansum man up dere!" shouted a voice
from deep in the crowd of bidders.
"That voice sounds familiar..." muttered Einhander, while Durandal stopped
preening and stared with his mouth open in shock.
"No fuckin way..." he muttered.
"HOWDY Y'ALL, I COMES TA FINDS ME A HUSBAND! FITTY BUCKS RIGHT HERE!"
shouted none other than Kelly Antilles, who pushed aside the smaller women as she
barged to the front of the crowd.
"Shep, I'll give you five bucks if you shoot her instead," announced Durandal.
"Well fuck, daddy needs a Big Mac Value Meal, and 'sides I'd never let something
like that happen to my worst enemy," said Shep as he reached under the seat he
was sitting on and pulled out a MP-5K.
The wet pulpy sounds of the 9mm hollowpoints striking the hideous trailer skank
was only slightly less appealing than the stench of moonshine and chewing tobbaco
that Kelly had managed to infest the bidding area with.
When the bloody corpse of Kelly dropped to the floor, Fanboy jumped off the stage and ran
over to it. With the careful practiced hands of an expert, he began rifling her pockets, pulling
out the wad blood-stained money that Kelly had expected to use to bid with.
As he was pulling it out, he took a look at the money, it looked kinda funny, and it wasn't the
stench or the blood stains.
"The Fuck? This is fucking Confederate money!" yelled Fanboy in disbelief.
"How the hell can you tell?" shouted Sheppard from
the stage.
"Where it should say In God We Trust, it says Fuck the Niggers!"
"Right, uhm, next up for auction....oooh this is a lively one, girls. All the way from the
cornhole...uh I mean...cornfields of Iowa. Look out for your panties....ITS SPANKY!!!!!"
Spanky lumbered out onto the stage, looking almost exactly like the spitting image of
the Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons, except for wearing a pair of banana shorts
and a white iron-on T-shirt that said I'd Rather Be From Japan.
Despite this being a modeling competition, Spanky was eating a foot-long hotdog
with way too much relish on it, and the relish slowly dripped down from the hotdog
where it congealed on top of the bulge of his belly, staining his shirt a snot-green
color.
*munch munch chew chew*
Einhander blinked for several moments before finding his composure and resuming his
narrative. "Right, uhm...let's start the bidding at...Ten dollars!"
*crickets chirp in background*
"Dammit, come on girls, he's smart! He knows about all sorts of...uhh...interesting things!
Damnit, Spanky, say SOMETHING!"
Spanky merely sighed and swallowed the remainder of his hotdog with surprising ease before
beginning to swirl his finger around in the congealing belly relish deposit on his T-shirt.
"Ooookay. I bet we can get things started at five bucks! Five dollars? Anyone?"
*belches*
"Damnit, you assholes are killing me out here! One dollar!" shouted Einy, obviously
getting irritated by the lack of interest in this product.
"ONE DOLLAR!" shouted an extremely beautiful woman in the back of the room.
Without missing a beat, before anymore bids could come up, Einy shouted "SOLD!
SOLD TO THE WOMAN IN THE BACK!"
Spanky, who had been paying little, if any attention to the whole affair, perked up when he
saw the beautifully mis-proportioned woman, whose eyes were as big as dinner plates
with triple-Q breasts and a 2-inch waist with long, inhuman legs.
"Is this a boner?" asked Spanky upon feeling the unfamiliar feeling between his legs.
"Goddamnit, just GO will you?" shouted Einy, as he motioned for Frankie and Seppo to begin
moving in onto Spanky.
Getting the hint, Spanky walked off the stage with the woman. In a backroom where they were
all alone, while the woman was rooting through her purse, Spanky bent over and peeked up her
dress,
I Hope they're lacy thought Spanky before he saw It.
"OH MY GOD!"
Inside the costume were three Gnomes standing on top of each other's shoulders, with two
other gnomes hidden in the chest compartment acting as breasts.
"MWahahaha!" shouted Darth Garden Gnome. "We have purchased you, slave!"
"For a measly dollar, you will now be forced into gnomish servitude!"
"Mmmmmm, El Fudge," moaned Spanky as he advanced on Darth Garden
Gnome.
"What? Wait! I'm not a fuckin cookie, wait, STOP!" screamed DGG as
Spanky picked him up and devoured him messily.
The remaining gnomes fled in terror as fast as their little legs could carry them.
*Back On Stage*
Meanwhile, Falk and Shep were counting the 500,000 yen they had recieved from
the two Japanese girls, while Sheppard was figuring out how much it was worth
through a currency converter.
"Hey Shep, isn't 500 thousand yen some kinda record? We should be able to make
hundreds of shitty little fanfics on this kind of dough."
Sheppard looked up from the computer he was pecking away at and announced,
"Well, lets see...500,000 Yen converted into US dollars is...about...$14."
"What? Fourteen bucks?" shouted Falkenhorst. "Fuck, my mom says when I was a baby,
I could have sold for FIVE GRAND!"
"Actually," interrupted Fanboy, "the going rate for white babies is about $7,000 these days.
As high as $10,000 each if you can find a good set of twins."
Sheppard and Falkenhorst stared for several moments at Fanboy, as if he had sprouted nipples
out of his forehead.
"Man," finally said Sheppard, "...just...get outta here!"
"Next up for bids, you know him! You hate his guts! DARTH FANBOY!" announced Einhander.
"I'll bid zero," announced Zaia.
"You can't bid zero dollars, Zaia," replied Einhander in a annoyed tone of voice.
"Well why the fuck should I pay for something I can get for free whenever I want?"
shot back Zaia.
"Well, the money is going for a good cause..." replied Einy somewhat nervously.
"Like what?" snapped Zaia "What cause is that? Screw this, I'm outta here."
*the entire crowd leaves*
"Well, that was a fucking loss," muttered Sheppard.
"I'll say," replied Fanboy. "I could have been spending the night with Zaia. Looks like I'll
have to try and get back my old job mopping floors at the adult bookstore, if we're to
continue UPF."
"I see you've failed your mission once again, minion," came a booming voice from the back
of the now-empty soundstage.
"Damnit, Great Leader, it's not my fault!" replied Sheppard. "You think I can raise the money
needed to pay you off for destroying your Objective Interim Force Beyond Next Liquid Refreshment
Dispenser with this kind of shit to work with?"
"Then consider your HAB Membership revoked..." The Great Leader announced.
"Wait! Wait! Wait...fuck, hmmmmmm. Listen, I got a proposition for you...."
"I'm listening..."
By Darth Fanboy in Gnome Hunter Style, expounded into coherent narrative format by Shep
The Federation and Principality of Zeon were on the brink of war due to Miles O'Brien's kidnapping,
the massive Federation fleet had been brought to the border of the Principality, and on the other
side, an equally mighty fleet of refitted D-7s hung in space.
Although the D7s seemed inactive, their battle-hardened feminist crews stood at the ready,
running through practice battles in preparation for the battle to come, while the Federation
crews were confident in their new technological edge brought about by the Kill-O-Matic
class, with it's impressive NUKEY NUKEY-equipped photon torpedoes.
The exquisitely plotted and detailed battle was about to commence in a stream of phaser fire
and explosions, in which many ships would explode, and thousands would die....
*Computer image dissipates, model starships hang limp in front of an inactive green screen.*
"Cut, Cut, CUT!" shouted Sheppard, who was wearing a George Lucas-style sweater, and
a ball cap emblazoned with the logo of UPF.
"The fuck is going on Shep? We got a big fucking scene going on here thats gonna kick
more ass than Paul Bunyan punting a fuckin donkey, and you stop it! Our fans will have our
blood!" shouted Fanboy as he came out of the pyro bunker where he had been ready to
fire the explosive squibs that would blow the exquisitely detailed models into smithereens.
"We got a big fucking problem, Fanboy. We're broke," grumbled Sheppard as he shouted for
the prop people to go home, and that they were all fired as well, don't bother coming back
tomorrow.
"You bastard! What about our paychecks?" shouted the lead SFX artist, someone they'd lured
away from ILM with promises of money and hookers.
"The checks are in the mail," said Sheppard, lying through his teeth.
"Broke? What the fuck? What about all the money we made from Chapters 1 to 20?" shouted
Fanboy as he kicked the rear end of one of the departing SFX artists. "Get out you scumbag,
and don't visit the catering trailer on the way out, you bastard!"
"Spent it all on props and effects," replied Sheppard laconically.
"The fuck you say, don't we have that numbered swiss bank account filled to the loot with
Nazi Gold?"
"Do you have any fuckin' idea how fucking' expensive gnome guts are? Especially when
it's the real thing?"
"Shit, we never should have done that, but I liked seeing the gnomes being slaughtered by
our set decorators...but god damn it man," Fanboy rolled up his right sleeve, revealing a heavily
scarred arm.
"I fuckin' sold my blood for eight weeks in a row, and you're now saying it's all disappeared,
every last cent of it?"
Sheppard threw his megaphone across the room in anger, the cheap plastic casing of the
megaphone splintering as it hit the concrete floor, spilling it's electronic guts all over the
studio floor.
"Goddamnit, I know how you feel, but Zaia's agent quadrupled her fees without telling us,
the first thing I knew was when we got a itemized expense sheet from her agent demanding
$999,999 in back pay."
Fanboy blinked in surprise. "Wait, what about the money from the sperm bank from our
regular visits?"
Sheppard got out of his chair and started to scream. "You fuckhead, you had to go and
do Gnome Hunter II, and now we're broke, BROKE! You spent the money
I was going to use to build my own personal B-70, you bastard!"
"Shit. Fuck. We need cash, I got an idea."
Fanboy reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a balaclava. As he was starting
to pull it over his head, Sheppard interrupted him.
"Fuck no, you don't need to knock a 7-11 off, I got an idea."
*The Next Day*
The American Idol set had been appropriated with much speediness that night, and
the entire cast and crew of American Idol was now tied up with duct tape inside the
bathrooms of the Studio building.
Sitting in the position where formerly the star of American Idol had sat, was none other
than Einhander Snowman, who was wearing a skintight suit that left nothing to the
imagination.
"HEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLO ladies and gentlemen, it's with great pleasure that I bring you the
first ever UPF BACHELOR AUCTION! Now a lot of you are probably asking
why I'm hosting this event and not bidding on all the good looking boys myself."
"Well, I spent all of my damn money on herbal remedies and an apartment in Amsterdam. Plus,
I'd do damn near anything for a cutie like Shep!"
Einhander then winked at someone who was standing off stage before continuing with his
prepared lines.
"So without any further ado, lets get our first piece of meat up on the stage! He's a UPF co-creator
with a penchant for the Confederacy, Firearms, and Homemade Pudding. Ladies, give your lust to
FALKENHORST!"
Falkenhorst then walked out from between a pair of curtains onto the stage in a full-dress Wehrmacht
uniform, with a few significant differences. One, it was a bright sparkling purple, and two, it had Leopard
skin trim.
"Ohmygod! Looks like he's been costume shopping with Prince Harry!"
"Sup," announced Falkenhorst in a low voice that could be barely heard.
"Okay, ladies, we'll start the bidding at...." began Einhander, before a girly shriek interrupted him.
"500,000 YEN!" shouted a pair of Japanese schoolgirls in black SS uniforms as they waved their
money frantically in the air, and talked in an unintelligable and excited stream of Japanese.
"SOLD! Sold to the two hot chicks in the Himmler duds!" yelled Falkenhorst upon seeing them.
"Uh wait, Falk. Can't we take more bids?" replied Einhander, who was obviously confused at
this turn of events. "What about that woman over there who wants to bid on you?"
"I don't see anyone else. SOLD to the hot asian chickies! Let's go! Move it along!" yelled Falk
as he stepped off the stage and into the arms of the two Japanese schoolgirls.
"Uh, what the fuck?" muttered Einhander as he watched Rosie "The Hutt" O'Donell stop waving
a stack of $100 bills in the air and resume gnawing on a chicken wing.
"Uhh, fuck, that was fast. Okay, up next is one of the more intelligent men around, he's an artist
with a penchant for witty banter! Give it up for DURANDAL! Ooh, daddy shouldn't have paid
the rent this month, just look at him!"
Durandal walked onto the runway, preening his well combed hair as he did so. "Oh baby, I'm so right
for you, I'm sizzling."
"We'll start the bidding at twenty bucks," announced Einhander.
"Twenty!" shouted a pretty-looking girl.
"Twenty-five!" shouted an even hotter looking chick.
"Thirty!" shouted a busty co-ed whose bosom was overflowing with
bosomy goodness that almost overpowered the skintight tee-shirt
she was wearing.
"I'll Give y'all fitty bucks fer the hansum man up dere!" shouted a voice
from deep in the crowd of bidders.
"That voice sounds familiar..." muttered Einhander, while Durandal stopped
preening and stared with his mouth open in shock.
"No fuckin way..." he muttered.
"HOWDY Y'ALL, I COMES TA FINDS ME A HUSBAND! FITTY BUCKS RIGHT HERE!"
shouted none other than Kelly Antilles, who pushed aside the smaller women as she
barged to the front of the crowd.
"Shep, I'll give you five bucks if you shoot her instead," announced Durandal.
"Well fuck, daddy needs a Big Mac Value Meal, and 'sides I'd never let something
like that happen to my worst enemy," said Shep as he reached under the seat he
was sitting on and pulled out a MP-5K.
The wet pulpy sounds of the 9mm hollowpoints striking the hideous trailer skank
was only slightly less appealing than the stench of moonshine and chewing tobbaco
that Kelly had managed to infest the bidding area with.
When the bloody corpse of Kelly dropped to the floor, Fanboy jumped off the stage and ran
over to it. With the careful practiced hands of an expert, he began rifling her pockets, pulling
out the wad blood-stained money that Kelly had expected to use to bid with.
As he was pulling it out, he took a look at the money, it looked kinda funny, and it wasn't the
stench or the blood stains.
"The Fuck? This is fucking Confederate money!" yelled Fanboy in disbelief.
"How the hell can you tell?" shouted Sheppard from
the stage.
"Where it should say In God We Trust, it says Fuck the Niggers!"
"Right, uhm, next up for auction....oooh this is a lively one, girls. All the way from the
cornhole...uh I mean...cornfields of Iowa. Look out for your panties....ITS SPANKY!!!!!"
Spanky lumbered out onto the stage, looking almost exactly like the spitting image of
the Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons, except for wearing a pair of banana shorts
and a white iron-on T-shirt that said I'd Rather Be From Japan.
Despite this being a modeling competition, Spanky was eating a foot-long hotdog
with way too much relish on it, and the relish slowly dripped down from the hotdog
where it congealed on top of the bulge of his belly, staining his shirt a snot-green
color.
*munch munch chew chew*
Einhander blinked for several moments before finding his composure and resuming his
narrative. "Right, uhm...let's start the bidding at...Ten dollars!"
*crickets chirp in background*
"Dammit, come on girls, he's smart! He knows about all sorts of...uhh...interesting things!
Damnit, Spanky, say SOMETHING!"
Spanky merely sighed and swallowed the remainder of his hotdog with surprising ease before
beginning to swirl his finger around in the congealing belly relish deposit on his T-shirt.
"Ooookay. I bet we can get things started at five bucks! Five dollars? Anyone?"
*belches*
"Damnit, you assholes are killing me out here! One dollar!" shouted Einy, obviously
getting irritated by the lack of interest in this product.
"ONE DOLLAR!" shouted an extremely beautiful woman in the back of the room.
Without missing a beat, before anymore bids could come up, Einy shouted "SOLD!
SOLD TO THE WOMAN IN THE BACK!"
Spanky, who had been paying little, if any attention to the whole affair, perked up when he
saw the beautifully mis-proportioned woman, whose eyes were as big as dinner plates
with triple-Q breasts and a 2-inch waist with long, inhuman legs.
"Is this a boner?" asked Spanky upon feeling the unfamiliar feeling between his legs.
"Goddamnit, just GO will you?" shouted Einy, as he motioned for Frankie and Seppo to begin
moving in onto Spanky.
Getting the hint, Spanky walked off the stage with the woman. In a backroom where they were
all alone, while the woman was rooting through her purse, Spanky bent over and peeked up her
dress,
I Hope they're lacy thought Spanky before he saw It.
"OH MY GOD!"
Inside the costume were three Gnomes standing on top of each other's shoulders, with two
other gnomes hidden in the chest compartment acting as breasts.
"MWahahaha!" shouted Darth Garden Gnome. "We have purchased you, slave!"
"For a measly dollar, you will now be forced into gnomish servitude!"
"Mmmmmm, El Fudge," moaned Spanky as he advanced on Darth Garden
Gnome.
"What? Wait! I'm not a fuckin cookie, wait, STOP!" screamed DGG as
Spanky picked him up and devoured him messily.
The remaining gnomes fled in terror as fast as their little legs could carry them.
*Back On Stage*
Meanwhile, Falk and Shep were counting the 500,000 yen they had recieved from
the two Japanese girls, while Sheppard was figuring out how much it was worth
through a currency converter.
"Hey Shep, isn't 500 thousand yen some kinda record? We should be able to make
hundreds of shitty little fanfics on this kind of dough."
Sheppard looked up from the computer he was pecking away at and announced,
"Well, lets see...500,000 Yen converted into US dollars is...about...$14."
"What? Fourteen bucks?" shouted Falkenhorst. "Fuck, my mom says when I was a baby,
I could have sold for FIVE GRAND!"
"Actually," interrupted Fanboy, "the going rate for white babies is about $7,000 these days.
As high as $10,000 each if you can find a good set of twins."
Sheppard and Falkenhorst stared for several moments at Fanboy, as if he had sprouted nipples
out of his forehead.
"Man," finally said Sheppard, "...just...get outta here!"
"Next up for bids, you know him! You hate his guts! DARTH FANBOY!" announced Einhander.
"I'll bid zero," announced Zaia.
"You can't bid zero dollars, Zaia," replied Einhander in a annoyed tone of voice.
"Well why the fuck should I pay for something I can get for free whenever I want?"
shot back Zaia.
"Well, the money is going for a good cause..." replied Einy somewhat nervously.
"Like what?" snapped Zaia "What cause is that? Screw this, I'm outta here."
*the entire crowd leaves*
"Well, that was a fucking loss," muttered Sheppard.
"I'll say," replied Fanboy. "I could have been spending the night with Zaia. Looks like I'll
have to try and get back my old job mopping floors at the adult bookstore, if we're to
continue UPF."
"I see you've failed your mission once again, minion," came a booming voice from the back
of the now-empty soundstage.
"Damnit, Great Leader, it's not my fault!" replied Sheppard. "You think I can raise the money
needed to pay you off for destroying your Objective Interim Force Beyond Next Liquid Refreshment
Dispenser with this kind of shit to work with?"
"Then consider your HAB Membership revoked..." The Great Leader announced.
"Wait! Wait! Wait...fuck, hmmmmmm. Listen, I got a proposition for you...."
"I'm listening..."
"If scientists and inventors who develop disease cures and useful technologies don't get lifetime royalties, I'd like to know what fucking rationale you have for some guy getting lifetime royalties for writing an episode of Full House." - Mike Wong
"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944
"The present air situation in the Pacific is entirely the result of fighting a fifth rate air power." - U.S. Navy Memo - 24 July 1944
-
Spanky The Dolphin
- Mammy Two-Shoes
- Posts: 30776
- Joined: 2002-07-05 05:45pm
- Location: Reykjavík, Iceland (not really)
Please do not use my name in a fanfiction in such a manner without my permission.
"Fast Times..." is a rare exception, but in this case I am not at all amused.
"Fast Times..." is a rare exception, but in this case I am not at all amused.
I believe in a sign of Zeta.
[BOTM|WG|JL|Mecha Maniacs|Pax Cybertronia|Veteran of the Psychic Wars|Eva Expert]
"And besides, who cares if a monster destroys Australia?"
-
darthdavid
- Pathetic Attention Whore
- Posts: 5470
- Joined: 2003-02-17 12:04pm
- Location: Bat Country!
-
Falkenhorst
- Jedi Knight
- Posts: 572
- Joined: 2002-09-02 01:14am
- Location: Wisconsin, USA
Bah, you just wish you had got sold to those Nazi Jap chicks instead of me.Spanky The Dolphin wrote:Please do not use my name in a fanfiction in such a manner without my permission.
"Fast Times..." is a rare exception, but in this case I am not at all amused.
Falkenhorst
BOTM 15.Nov.02
Post #114 @ Fri Oct 18, 2002 4:44 pm
"I've had all that I wanted of a lot of things I've had
And a lot more than I needed of some things that turned out bad"
-Johnny Cash, "Wanted Man"
UPF: CARNIVAL OF RETARDS
BOTM 15.Nov.02
Post #114 @ Fri Oct 18, 2002 4:44 pm
"I've had all that I wanted of a lot of things I've had
And a lot more than I needed of some things that turned out bad"
-Johnny Cash, "Wanted Man"
UPF: CARNIVAL OF RETARDS
-
Grand Admiral Thrawn
- Ruthless Imperial Tyrant
- Posts: 5755
- Joined: 2002-07-03 06:11pm
- Location: Canada
-
Spanky The Dolphin
- Mammy Two-Shoes
- Posts: 30776
- Joined: 2002-07-05 05:45pm
- Location: Reykjavík, Iceland (not really)
No. I am genuinely pissed off about not being asked about this in advance. In no way whatsoever do I want to be a part of this thing.Falkenhorst wrote:Bah, you just wish you had got sold to those Nazi Jap chicks instead of me.Spanky The Dolphin wrote:Please do not use my name in a fanfiction in such a manner without my permission.
"Fast Times..." is a rare exception, but in this case I am not at all amused.
I believe in a sign of Zeta.
[BOTM|WG|JL|Mecha Maniacs|Pax Cybertronia|Veteran of the Psychic Wars|Eva Expert]
"And besides, who cares if a monster destroys Australia?"
-
Singular Quartet
- Sith Marauder
- Posts: 3896
- Joined: 2002-07-04 05:33pm
- Location: This is sky. It is made of FUCKING and LIMIT.
It generally falls under "Tough shit" Spanky. And the more you gripe, the more abuse you get. Just ask Evil Imperial over on SBC about Helm's Deep. If that fails, ask Laird about Evil Imperial in Helm's Deep. Trust me, there you can find what happens if you bitch and moan.Spanky The Dolphin wrote:No. I am genuinely pissed off about not being asked about this in advance. In no way whatsoever do I want to be a part of this thing.Falkenhorst wrote:Bah, you just wish you had got sold to those Nazi Jap chicks instead of me.Spanky The Dolphin wrote:Please do not use my name in a fanfiction in such a manner without my permission.
"Fast Times..." is a rare exception, but in this case I am not at all amused.
-
Spanky The Dolphin
- Mammy Two-Shoes
- Posts: 30776
- Joined: 2002-07-05 05:45pm
- Location: Reykjavík, Iceland (not really)
Then I request that if my character is to reoccur, that he be immediately killed off (I don't care how) first thing in the next chapter, and from then on never be mentioned again.
I've said before that my permission must be asked for this kind of stuff, and I don't take it lightly when people don't. From where I entered the fic community you're supposed to ask to use people in fics. At the least it's common courtesy.
I've said before that my permission must be asked for this kind of stuff, and I don't take it lightly when people don't. From where I entered the fic community you're supposed to ask to use people in fics. At the least it's common courtesy.
I believe in a sign of Zeta.
[BOTM|WG|JL|Mecha Maniacs|Pax Cybertronia|Veteran of the Psychic Wars|Eva Expert]
"And besides, who cares if a monster destroys Australia?"
It seems reasonable to me that, should the authors want to use the name of someone from the board (especially in a negative light), that the authors should clear it with that board member first. But at the same time, there are a lot of board members in this fic; it would take the authors a long time to ask them all for permission.
Seems to me that both of you could be a bit more understanding of the other's side, no? Please?
Seems to me that both of you could be a bit more understanding of the other's side, no? Please?
"On the infrequent occasions when I have been called upon in a formal place to play the bongo drums, the introducer never seems to find it necessary to mention that I also do theoretical physics." -Richard Feynman
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Spanky The Dolphin
- Mammy Two-Shoes
- Posts: 30776
- Joined: 2002-07-05 05:45pm
- Location: Reykjavík, Iceland (not really)
Oh, and I suppose I should take the quick opertunity to repeat Utsanomiko's stance on things like this, which is to forbid the use of his name in any fanfiction whatsoever. No exceptions.
I believe in a sign of Zeta.
[BOTM|WG|JL|Mecha Maniacs|Pax Cybertronia|Veteran of the Psychic Wars|Eva Expert]
"And besides, who cares if a monster destroys Australia?"
-
darthdavid
- Pathetic Attention Whore
- Posts: 5470
- Joined: 2003-02-17 12:04pm
- Location: Bat Country!
-
Spanky The Dolphin
- Mammy Two-Shoes
- Posts: 30776
- Joined: 2002-07-05 05:45pm
- Location: Reykjavík, Iceland (not really)
SQ, Spanky has a point, so back off, please.
dd, mind your own business.
Spanky, stop it. You've voiced your displeasure for the authors to see, now drop it please.
Any more comments about Spanky's concerns (except by the authors in response to his statement) will be deleted as spam.
dd, mind your own business.
Spanky, stop it. You've voiced your displeasure for the authors to see, now drop it please.
Any more comments about Spanky's concerns (except by the authors in response to his statement) will be deleted as spam.
"On the infrequent occasions when I have been called upon in a formal place to play the bongo drums, the introducer never seems to find it necessary to mention that I also do theoretical physics." -Richard Feynman
-
Singular Quartet
- Sith Marauder
- Posts: 3896
- Joined: 2002-07-04 05:33pm
- Location: This is sky. It is made of FUCKING and LIMIT.
Yes.Spanky The Dolphin wrote:How petty...
Apologies, but I was just warning him as to what happens. It wouldn't surprise me if Fanboy/Shep used Spanky precisely because he reacts in such a manner, but in all likelyhood they just didn't remember/care. I guess we'll see if they make any comments on the matter.Zaia wrote:SQ, Spanky has a point, so back off, please.