Unnamed Porno Fanfic From Shep, Falkenhorst, and Fanboy

[Singular Quartet]

I don't think the mods are going to like this, Fanboy.

Anyways... What the hell do you want us to contribute? I mean, it's fucking UPF! Shit, there ain't shit I can contribute, unless you just want shit. Shit I can do. You just gots to point me in the right direction...

[Darth Fanboy]

I don't think the mods are going to like this, Fanboy.

We have no mod powers, we're simply trying to cut back on spammy posts in our beautiful thread with the one power we legitimately have, killing characters in UPF.

[Perseid]

Whoo!! A new chapter and UPF has finally been stickied *does the happy dance*

Anyway great chapter Shep, welcome back

BOOZE AND HOOKERS......FUCK YEAH

FELONIES.......FUCK YEAH

HARDCORE PORN......FUCK YEAH

UPF........FUCK YEAH

[Zaia]

Man, I kick ass.

[Singular Quartet]

I don't think the mods are going to like this, Fanboy.

We have no mod powers, we're simply trying to cut back on spammy posts in our beautiful thread with the one power we legitimately have, killing characters in UPF.

Ah, well then. That'll work.

[Ford Prefect]

Man, I kick ass.

Well, you do like Tasmania.

As for the chapter itself, very nice. But Gnomes, ruling the universe? My fear is palpable.

[consequences]

I exist, I'm not dead, and as far as I know, I'm in possession of my testicles. Life is good. In fact my character seems to be living better than I currently am, as he at least has access to porn to go with the broken glass

Truly hilarious shit.

[Darth Fanboy]

I exist, I'm not dead, and as far as I know, I'm in possession of my testicles. Life is good. In fact my character seems to be living better than I currently am, as he at least has access to porn to go with the broken glass

Truly hilarious shit.

There is more potential for him as the Adventures of the Asskicker anally violate time and space!

[Einhander Sn0m4n]

By special request of Darth Fanboy, who hath given me the honor of posting for him, a very special Necroing of the most infamous fic on SDnet!




UPF XXXIII: "When Fanboy writes a Chapter, an Angel takes it in the ass."


JOSS WHEDON KILLED DURING ORAL SEX WITH FAN

We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you the following news bulletins.

Joss Whedon was found dead in his home after being attacked by one of his fans. The culprit, a sci fi fanwho calls himself "Willow's Brother" ate Joss Whedon's genitals after patiently waiting his turn in the "Suck Joss Whedon's Cock"-line. The Kid, whose real identity is currently unavailable, had waited behind hundreds of fans of such television shows as "Firefly" and "Buffy the Vampire slayer" before devouring his icons genitals in what apparently was nothing more than temporary insanity brought on by extreme excitement.

In a statement released through his attorney, the kid stated that "After Serenity tanked at the box office about five hundred people got out of line in front of me, which had me totally stoked. It was still taking a while, and I guess I got just too excited, it was an accident I swear. I should have taken my fangs out maybe I don't know."

The film the kid is referring to is none other than "Serenity", the fetid pile of fanwank based on the short lived shitty television show Firefly, that enough geeks watched that it acquired a cult following. Unlike fans of the more reknowned sci fi television classic Star Trek however, Firefly fans bathed. The combined bathing and shameless appraisal conned filmmakers to believe that Whedon could produce a profitable film. Unfortunately, the fans executives were counting on to purchase movie tickets all downloaded copies on the internet prior to its release and never supported the movie in theaters, thinking that all of the other fans would do so for them and led to a miserable showing.

However, hardcore fans of Firefly and Whedon's vampire-based series "Buffy" and "Angel" were still willing to wait days, sometimes weeks on end in a line to fellate their idol, which led to another tragic incident.

The girl who was to be next in line had a mixed reaction.

"I'm like, totally bummed don't get me wrong, but this sort of helps me out because I was totally stressing over whether or not to swallow you know? I mean, As much fun as it would be to swallow and see if JOss' infinite love could have swelled inside of me how many girls out there can say that the guy who created Angel blew a load all over her face?"

The fan behind her, a male fan in his mid 40's, asked if it was true that Wesley Crusher had been killed. When we informed him that this was the line to suck Joss Whedon's cock and not Wil Wheaton he grew incredibly red in the face and ran out of the room.

RON MEXICO FOUND DEAD IN APARTMENT

(Insert that nasty death picture here)

The body of legendary ladies' man and master criminal Ron Mexico was found mutiliated in his upscale Trenton N.J. apartment earlier this morning after police made a welfare check on behalf of several dozen concerned prostitutes. THe one significant mutilation was the carving of a "Z" on his back, buttocks, and testicles. Police attribute this to the work of crack-addicted Zorro Impersonators and definitely not the assassins and agents working for the Duchess of Zeons femme dictatorship.

Mexico, how recently landed a starring role in the highly acclaimed yet highly stale Unnamed Porno Fanfic, was scheduled to report to the set for a new episode sometime later on this week. When informed of the incident, UPF co-creator MArk Sheppard responded with a resounding cheer at the reduced payroll. Mexico's exorbitant contract came during a financial boon for the once again bankrupt media corporation.

UPF Executive producer and head writer Darth Fanboy, who is spending a court ordered stint at the Paul Reubens Masturbation Addiction clinic, quietly mourned the loss of his colleague. "He was a dear friend," Fanboy said. ",and he taught me how to love again. The 'five dollar Wednesdays' he sponsored at his brothel were like heaven to me, and I will always be indebted to him.

Although an autopsy has yet to be performed and dental records yet to be checked, authorities are quite certain that Ron Mexico's career has finalyl ended. But this is not the first time that the famed pimp has been thought dead. During a prolonged firefight which left an entire Hoboken neighborhood shaken and 27 officers and gigolos dead Ron Mexico was declared a victim of police gunfire. However that claim proved to false when Mexico himself mugged Steve Irwin the following week, stealing seventy dollars and a wallet sized photo of his wife Terri which was found the next day covered in semen.

We now return you to the Unnamed Porno Fanfic, already in progress

Bridge of the ASSKICKER!

"When last we saw our heroes, the time-space continuum had been altered by the evil and unrelenting gnomes! Zaia, in her efforts to restore her homeland of Zeon, commandeered the starship of the smutords Shep and Falk, who were reluctant to....GAHHHH!!!"

Sheppard reholstered his Desert Eagle after plugging the Narration officer several times in the chest, it was the preferred method of downsizing aboard the Asskicker.

"Listen babe, I hate to break it to you but Falk is right. The only method of time travel we have availiable is that retarded ass solar slingshot trick and there is no way in HELL you're going to pull that off with our ship!" Sheppard plead.

"That's right," Falk chimed in, "I had to scrounge most of these parts from Klingon scrapyards, not to mention salvage the transmission from a 1987 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme for the warp core!"

Zaia kept the Martini Henry rifle aimed carefully at Falkenhorst's head, keeping a trained eye on the parts of his skull that would explode the most violently. Although she was outnumbered, she was certain the fragmentation from Falk's skull would take out at least two or three of the poorly trained crewmen, who were mostly drunk anyways. That would only leave the hopelessly in love Sheppard and the Ferengi to deal with as actual threats. Her mind raced as a plan formed in her head, the hopelessly in love Sheppard....

"Shep honey..."

Shep'as eyes lit up as if he had just been told he'd inherited the playboy mansion. "Yes my darling?"

"Would you be a dear and try to travel through time for me? I would be so impressed, you know how us girls loooooove to impressed by crazy male stunts."

It was an old Zeon manipulation trick, the male libido was a powerful servants as well as a powerful oppressor. Sheppard kicked Nog out of his console and shouted. "ANYTHING FOR YOU MY LOVE!"

"Shep are you fucking insane! STop this shit right n...."

Falk was silenced as Zaia knocked him over the head with the butt of her rifle just as Shep gunned the engine, pushing the proverbial pedal to the proverbial metal. The Asskicker shot between the two Gnomish Cubes and headed straight for the nearest Star, as Shep put the old D-7 into high gear though the ominous sounds of sputtering and clanging metal could be heard in various sections all over the ship.

The Asskicker had kicked its' last ass.

Sheppard, whose horny attempt at scoring with the girl of his dreams had just died in a sputtering wreck now sobbed as his precious starship drifted nearly dead in space. Falkenhorst rubbed at the welt on his forehead cursing as Zaia retrained her rifle.

"I TOLD YOU! I FUCKING TOLD YOU! GOD DAMMIT SHEP!"

An explosions rocked the ship.

"Was that the Cubes?" Falk asked.

"Negative," said Nog, who was now occupying the sensor station. "They are too far out of firing range, Shep's gambit bought us a little bit of time but we just picked up approximate a metric ton of weight in one of our empty cargo holds. IT wasn't transported on either because our shields were still up."

"Then what in the hell happened?" Shep cringed as he spoke, nursing his blueballs.

Just then a small man wearing thick glasses and carrying a datapad walked into the room beaming with an almost creepy amount of glee on his face. THe man was wearing a long white bodystocking which vaguely resembled a starfleet cadet uniform.

"Wow! It is you! It really is you! The most infamous pornlords of the third millenium! Fhep and Salk!"

(To be continued!)

[Zaia]

"Shep honey..."

Goddamnit, that totally should've been "Sheppy-pooh!"

[Perseid]

Yay, finally an update.

And after I'd finally gotten over the withdrawal syptoms

[Darth Fanboy]

UPF XXXIV Part I: Sheppard's Tale


All Sheppard could do was run. The once-powerful media mogul and nuclear weapons proponent was now in a race against time and the first prize was his own life.

Rumor had it that she had killed Ron Mexico, turning down the impressive bounty just for the opportunity. If that was tue, then she would have to go after Sheppard inevitably. With his coffers low and his influence waning, Shep had tried to lose himsel amongst the vast population of a major midwestern metropolitan city. Unfortunately he chose Des Moines, Iowa. An oversized shithole that existed largely on government pork-barrel spending and an overinflated sense of self worth from the men in the Capitol. It only took one night for the bitch to find him skipping out on the bill at a Perkin's restauraunt.

He ran into the alley, suddenly, a stampede of escaped livestock burst into his path and trampled him, nearly crushing him to death. Fortunately he had invaded the hooves of the largest animals and suffered but a few superficial scrapes, cuts and bruises.

Something startled those fucking animals. I'd better hightail it outta...

*Begin playing "Kill Bill" Music*

But before he could finish that thought, there was a bright flash as if a banana with super speed had knocked him on his ass. She stood over him, samurai sword held in the air pointing towards his chest and her face concealed by a motorcycle helmet.

"I always figured I'd be killed by a whore. But then again I used to have prostitutes choke me with a leather strap while they blew me also." Sheppard said, a nervous yet sly grin forming on his face.

With her free hand the assassin removed the helmet from her head, Sheppard saw the chin and features of a caucasian female, but was distracted when the helmet was flung at his crotch with extreme force. The pain caused him to vomit the purloined piece of pecan pie he had procured from Perkins. (groooaaaaaan)

Staggering to his feet and still on the wrong end of the Katana, Shep finally saw the face of his assailant and his jaw dropped.

"TERRI SCHIAVO?!?!?!?!?"

"In the flesh. I know it was Ron Mexico who was running the vegetative sex scheme but I also know you were getting a cut you fucking weasel!"

Sheppard cursed silently, Ron Mexico had been sending him envelopes containing $1200-$1500 a week in money earned from subordinates who worked in hospitals in the southwestern US. The money earned from his "comatose cookies" as he liked to call them had been enough to pay the remainder of his legal bills following the obscenity charges made against his latest porno film "Cock and Awe" (about American soldiers who go to Iraq to convince the women that America is number one!).

Just as Schiavo was about to run Shep through though there was a mysterious flash of light, and through it came a familiar face...

[Meanwhile, at the Fortress of Fanfic Solitude*]

Upon the Golden Throne of Fanfics, there was but one Dalton. Dalton Prime, trhough him all Daltons everywhere could traverse the many realms of fanfiction. To right the wrongs created by sloppy and untalented authors.

But not even the Prime Dalton could stop this, for he must remain within the Fortress to make these powerful, yet necessary, tasks possible. There was only one Dalton capable of correcting this mess, Dalton 1138 was the perfect choice for this assignment. Forged in a realm where the organization of amateur science fiction writing was left only to Gods and Demons, Dalton 1138 was the best of the best. Capable of subjugating entire worlds with his bare hands, no one would stand a chance against him.

However, due to a clerical error, Dalton 1138 was never even contacted, and instead Dalton #14072 was sent instead. #14702 was a respected, but underappreciated Dalton from a world where fanfiction ranked alongside goth suicide poetry and cybersex in thge internet heirarchy. As capable as he was though he was unprepared for the assignment given to him. The Prime Dalton had sent him to the UPF-Verse with explicit instructions to stop any more plotlines from occuring, by any means necessary, also to keep the body count from rising further.

HOwever Dalton materialized in the alley just as Terri Schiavo was about to skewer Shep, as he stumbled to regian his balance he tripped over an extension cord that was running up the leg of Terri's yellow jumpsuit. The 3000 mile long extension cord disconnected her from her life support equipment in Florida, killing her instantly.

"Hey thanks man!" Yelled Shep, "I owe ya!" And with that Sheppard ran off, hailing a passing John Deere taxicab. As Dalton surveyed the chaos in the alley he muttered under his breath. Jeebus fucking Christo, the Prime Dalton is gonna ream my ass with his fist for this one.

The next day Sheppard boarded a plane to New York, where he knew Falkenhorst was operating a little side business, an unlicensed plastic surgery clinic for wealthy yet stingy white women in upstate New York. He had been to the brink of death, and he realized that he didn't want to go out like a total bitch.

It was time to get the band back together.


Where are Falkenhorst and Fanboy? Will the plot ever get back on track? What will happen to Dalton? Find out in the upcoming full chapter. UPF 34 Part 2: Falkenhorst's Tale!

[Ace Pace]

It's Baaack!

[Fleet Admiral JD]

Thank God...I read the whole thing about four times. I finally get a new episode.

[Singular Quartet]

*cackles with sadistic glee until his throat bleedS*

*hacks up blood*

Sweet, dude.

[Darth Fanboy]

Wow, way too drunk to write part 2. Maybe this weekend sometime.

[Mr. Coffee]

Since no one else did it...


UFP! FUCK YEAH!


Sober up, take a shower, eat some food... Then start drinking and typing again, damnit!

[Darth Fanboy]

UPF XXXIV Part II: Falkenhorst's Tale

Falkenhorst cranked up the volume in his iPod and tossed on the white lab coat before exiting his office and dancing his way into the operating room, where a heavily anesthetized patient was deep into the effects of what Falk called his "Special Little Brew". The Brew was little more than a crude mixture of opium and raw ether but none of his patients had complained yet.

"Stuck in the middle with you...." Falk sang along to himself as he picked up the scalpel and began looking over the patient, a mature but not entirely unattractive 42 year old real estate agent from Poughkeepsie. Her husband, a middle management waste of a haircut, had earned a healthy tax return and he had decided to treat himself to a lifelong fantasy. Because his looks had declined he was unable to score with the delicious young virgins that attended the nearby high schools, and he felt that he would never again be able to deflower a young woman, violently tearing away a hymen with his bent and misshapen tool.

That is where Falk came in to play. After the decline of UPF following the cocaine for whores scandal that had shaken Vatican City to its core, resulting in the defrocking of 3 prominent cardinals, Falk had re-entered the United States under an assumed name and began operating an unlicensed medical clinic just outside of Utica. A steady flow of bribes and strategic campagin contributions had helped him in going unnoticed, but even those wouldn't help them if any legitimate authorities found out about what operations he actually performed. Falk had learned surgery from a former battlefield surgeon in SOutheast Asia who also performed deviant sexual experiments on unwilling victims. And while Falk didn't really get off on watching a grown man having his testicles sewed between the cheeks of his ass, he had absorbed what practical knowledge he could and kept it with him.

Falk's cash cow were those middle aged husbands with too much time and money on their hands who weren't capable of getting it out of the house and housewives who weren't getting enough at home. But even though these people had the money to afford proper medical supervision for these procedures, Falkenhorsts operation undercut those prices between 45-70% and if theres one thing about middle class white people its that they fucking love money, and so did Falk. Falk loved money and he was absolutely rolling in it, his once dormant Swiss bank account was once again flooded thanks to trendy new procedures that disatisfied lovers were eager to try. Aside from the usual breast augmentation, nose job, rib removal, and phony Viagra prescription, more and more people were getting botox injections (which Falk harvested directly from dented cans at the grocery store), collagen impants (made from a mixture of marshmallow creme and melted GI Joes), and Anal Bleaching (using real bleach. Anal Bleaching had become so popular that Falk had to hire another hand in order to keep up with the demand. Doctor Miguel had told Falk that he had earned a degree in medicine somewhere in Ciudad Juarez, of course he had told him so in Spanish and provided no references but he was willing to work for $6.00 an hour.

The real cash cow though was Hymen Restoration. For a shade under $1500 Falk and Miguel could reconstruct a woman's hymen so that her husband could tear it apart once again, giving her the painful sensation of having her cherry popped all over again. At first the thought had slightly repulsed Falk, but a guilty conscience could be easily cleared by the feeling of a pillowcase stuffed with untaxed earnings resting beneath ones head at night.

After "prepping" the patient, Falkenhorst pulled a couple of cutting instruments out of a jar full of weird looking blue goo that he had stolen from a nearby barbershop. He figured all he had to do was strech a few pieces of skin down without this chick losing too much blood. His handiwork was just going to get wrecked later that night anyway by her idiot husbands bent weiner anyway, why take pride in something that is just going to get wrecked the next day?

As he began to use the spreader though to get a look inside the patient though, he heard the door open and close behind him in quick succession. He turned around to see his old business associate Sheppard, frantically jamming the door with a nearby chair and nervously pawing a holstered sidearm beneath his coat.

"Jesus Christ! What the fuck are you doing? You could have fucked, I dunno, Called ahead or something!?!?!"

"There's no time for that," Shep tossed a spare pistol, a magnum, to Falk and pressed his ear to the door. "Do you still know how to shoot one of those?"

"I don't know, maybe we should find out!" Falk angrily pointing the gun at Shep, cursing him for storming into his very new, very successful, very illegal business with what seemed like a lot of trouble on his tail.

"Before you go spreading my gray matter all over Mrs. Droopycunt there give me a chance to explain!"

"NO! I'm tired of hearing that bullshit! And whatever crap it is you are in I don't want to get involved. I don't want to end up like fucking Ron Mexico."

"It's too late for that. I was in the same fucking boat you're in right now. But the bastards are still after us, Just a few days ago I was attacked by Terri Schiavo and....."

"Wait...did you just say that you were attacked by Terri fucking Schiavo?"

"Yeah."

Falk lowered the pistol and stared straight down at the floor.

"Whoever's behind this shit have got to be pros. Where the fuck could they have found an extension cord that long?"

"Listen, I got an unmarked RV and about $20,000 left of my original Nest Egg. THe Feds are still looking for us and they, along with whomever is trying to kill us are obvious watching every airport and harbor between Seattle and Miami. We don't have time to fake new passports so we have to get down to Mexico and find Fanboy."

Falk grit his teeth, his comfortable new life was about to be devoured by his old one, but the adrenaline that now coursed through his veins was something he hadn't felt in a long time.

"All right, i'm in."

Shep removed the chair from the door and the two retired porn dealers exchanged glances. They stormed out through the lobby, the Hapless Dr Miguel waved at his benefactor not realizing the impending danger. Just as Shep and Falk reached the door the large windowpanes of the lobby shattered in a hail of gunfire. Ducking behind the receptionist's desk they attempted to return fire but saw no one, it was only when Falk risked peeking his head up a little further did he see his attackers. Pointy red hats and all

"Motherfucker! It's the god damn gnomish mafia!"

Twelve diminuitive gnomes in black suits and wearing sungalsses with red pointy hats let loose another barrage of tommy gun fire, catching miguel as he tried to escape to his awaiting volkswagen beetle. HIs body was shredded to an unrecognizeable pulp. BEtween his lack of identifying features and lack of citizenship, the county coroners were going to have a fun time with this one.

Shep and Falk returned fire, catching one of the peckerheads with a round each through the forehead, knocing the gnome off of his feet and spreading chunks of skull and brain tissues in his immediate vicinty. But they were still outnumbered by more than 5 to 1. Falk quickly devised a plan.

"Fuck, we gotta go out the back."

"That aint going to stop them from following us though."

"No, but I've got enough Ether in this building to light Chicago on fire faster than Mrs. O'leary's fucking cow. You still carry C-4 in the trunk of your car?"

"Fuck I can't do that anymore man! I've been using rentals for the past few months!" Shep exclaimed.

"Worthless piece of shit... nevermind, we'll just have to do it the old fashioned way. I got a stash of fireworks down in the basement, I sell em to fucking high school kids during homecoming week. Fucking brats eat that shit up. You keep those assholes busy while I go light a couple of fuses."

Shep didn't even bother to ask how much time he'd have before the explosions set off, making this small pristine neighborhood look like the seventh layer of hell. He stood up and shot quickly at the closest two gnomes, causing the entire cadre to duck. That gave Falk ample time to cut through the lobby and into a stairwell leading to the basement. Hundreds of pounds of fireworks were contained in this room, right below the 'lab' that held hundreds of gallons of ether. Adding to the potential calamity, Miguel had been cooking on the stove and forgot to turn off the gas before being shot to death. The building did not have an adequate sprinklet system, and to top it off the building was made out of a lot of dry wood.

The resulting Inferno was spectacular.

Shep had seen Falk bolt faster than he had ever seen him run before and quickly followed suit. The two men exited through the back just as the gnomes started their pursuit by cutting through the lobby. A Big mistake, as suddenly the building exploded.

There were mixed emotions on board the RV as Shep began navigating the maze of pavement that was the US Interstate system.

"We'll cross trhough Texas, no one will give a shit about us owning firearms there." Shep calmly spoke as he tried to reassure his partner. "Plus I know some Hookers in Dallas. You remember 'One Eyed Betty'."

Falk laughed like he hadn't laughed in a long time. As much as he hated to admit it, the band was getting back together, and the thought of rebuilding the once mighty Porn Empire was tempting.

After a few hours on the road, Falk was suddenly puzzled. "Hey, I should have asked earlier. Why the hell is Fanboy in fucking Mexico? He's as Gringo as it gets."

"Yeha, but he's playing for some Mexican Minor League Hockey team in one of the rural areas outside of Mexico City, runs one of the top Donkey Shows there too."

"I thought those wer eonly in Tijuana?"

"Ah they've been moving the more depraved shit further from the border in an attempt to lure the right wing republican moralists there so they can roll em in a dark alley. But you can't get a fundie to come to your border town when the hottest ticket is Burro Sex."

"Good point, wait.. Mexican HOCKEY team?"

"I don't get it either. But then again there's a lot about this whole business I don't get."


Will Shep and Falk be able to cross the US border and evade the US Government and Gnomish MAfia? Will They find Fanboy? And what mysterious celebrity will be on the receiving end of an actual Donkey's Donkey Punch? Stay tuned for the conclusion of UPF part 34, Fanboy's tale!

*UPF Theme Music plays*

[Instant Sunrise]

UPF...FUCK YEAH

BOOZE AND HOOKERS... FUCK YEAH

FELONIES... FUCK YEAH

HARDCORE PORN... FUCK YEAH

[Ace Pace]

Oh HELL YES!

[Darth Fanboy]

UPF XXXIV Part III: Fanboy's Tale

The RV limped its way into Texcoco on its last legs, the result of Falkenhorst attempting to navigate after sampling several of the local Tequilas a hundred miles back. The RV had not been designed for off roading, but Shep had to acknowledge that the designers of the Winnebago would be impressed a tthe beating their creation had handled.

Neither Shep or Falk knew much about where they were going, although ESPN had recently published a piece on the "Ogie Oglethorpe of Mexico" who played for the Texcoco Gringos. Shep knew that there was only one person that could be. An internet search proved useless but through his underworld contacts Shep learned of an old bullfighting arena converted to an ice rink after the proprietors illegally emigrated to Canada, bypassing the United States by foot entirely through the use of stolen prototype Nike shoes abandoned by the Crips.

The RV finally died after running out of gas two dingy blocks away from the arena. Shep and Falk grabbed everything of value out of the RV including money and guns and stashed them in small duffel bags. They then torched the RV with a few matches and a couple bottles of the local spirits. They walked through the gate, paying the gate fee along with a little additional fee to avoid having to check their weapons. Refusing to pay the extra fee had gotten more than one caucasian gangster killed in this particular neighborhood. At first Shep was startled to see the small crowd of nearly two hundred cheering and screaming, did they actually like Hockey in this part of Mexico? But after getting his first glimpse of the action Shep realized that this wasn't hockey, unless you considered the old Mutant League games legitimate. One of the players from the visiting Guadalajara team was skating towards the Texcoco goal with the shaft of a stick impaled through his shoulder, before he could get the shot on net however a Texcoco player blindsided him and sent him skidding unconscious into the ice.

"There he is." Shep pointed out to Falk.

Fanboy skated over towards his victim, pulling a shiv out of his waistband and gouging out the eye of the only official on the ice before kicking the downed player with the blades of his skates, slashing him mercilessly. Looking out of the corner of his eye, he saw Shep and Falk and turned towards them, stepping on and slicing off three of his comatose opponent's fingers.

"Never thought i'd see you guys down here." Fanboy said as he spit a bloody tooth out onto the ice. Falk looked at the bloody molar, slightly disturbed. "Don't worry" Fanboy grunted with a slight laugh. "That's not even mine, got it off a groupie last night who wanted me to knock out one of her teeth. She said it was quite an honor!" Shep was about to say something but Fanboy interrupted with a huge guffaw. "Hahahah! I was lying! It wasn't a groupie, it was a hooker!"

Shep had already had enough. "Listen you skullfucking psycho. I didn't drive through the nine hells of Mexico just to watch a bunch of cactus fucking NHL rejects gore each other on the ice. I've got a business proposition for you."

"Business eh? Could be interesting. Does it involve the brutalization of wee folk and more erect nipples than a wet T Shirt content during December in Moscow?"

"That's about the size of it."

"I'm in. We'll take my car" Fanboy yelled over to the bench that he was pullinghimself out of the game. Ten seconds later a Capuchin Monkey on ice skates went out onto the ice and began clawing at the flesh of an opposing player.

Out in the back of the arena was a Soviet Frog-7 with a giant penis shaped missile loaded onto it. A small U Haul filled with belongings was attached to the back. "Hop in, There's no air conditioner, but the trailer's full of assorted beers and hallucinogens."

About fifteen miles down the road heading back towards the United States Fanboy turned to Shep.

"Where the fuck are we going?"

Shep thought about it for a second. "IF UPF is to be revived then we'll need further backing. We need to find more cash."

Fanboy thought about it for a moment. "I got it!"


several days later, near an unknown greenhouse in the Wyoming Wilderness.

"So we have a deal, the rocket artillery for ten thousand pounds of my finest grass." said the red headed man in the green toga, flanked by armed guards that looked just like Rocky from the Rocky Horror Picture Show.

"Hey, don't welch on me!" Fanboy cursed.

"Ah how rude of me. And of course, fifty thousand frozen pizzas and twelve thousand bags of Sun Chips and Funyuns."

"Much better."

Fanboy had managed to find the secret greenhouse of the Ambominable Einhander Snowman. The most notorious drug dealer in the Western Hemisphere. In exchange for the Frog-7, He had acquired a ludicrous amount of marijuana.

"I don't get it," Falk spat. "Why didn't we just sell the Frog for cash? I know we could sell all this pot for a ton of money but this seems to be a little complicated."

"It makes sense," said Shep, "After all there are more buyers for weed than there are for Soviet Weaponry, at least in this country."

Fanboy's jaw dropped. "Sell the weed? Are you fucking nuts? I traded for the pot because smoking pot gives me great ideas! And That would help me come up with a way to raise the money!"

Shep's shoulders sank and his head dropped as Falk hit himself over the head muttering to himself as Fanboy lit up Bongload one of one billion.

Weeks later

Shep and Falk were busy loading up huge crates full of money onto a C-130 for the trip to Switzerland. Falk was giddy with excitement.

"Can you believe Fanboy smoked himself psychic? We won every goddamn lottery in the United States over the course of a month and played the Stock Market perfectly! We're fucking rich again!"

Shep grinned as he chewed ona fine cigar. "Yeah, but you could tell it was wearing off when he insisted we bet a thousand clams on the Kansas City Royals to win the World Series."

"Heheh, it doesn't matter, now that we have this much money, we can finally break every law and taboo we didn't finish taking care of the first time around!"


Somewhere, at an undisclosed Catholic Orphanage

"I don't understand father, it's as if they all just lost the will to live! All Three Hundred Orphans!" Screamed a nun.

"Is it because of Father Alfonzo again? I swear we've moved him through seven different parishes and he still won't stop..."

"I thought that too, but then I discovered that it was every child, even the little girls! It's as if a terrible evil in the world has been reawakened."

"My god, I haven't seen anything like this since...Oh dear heavenly father could it be?"

THe weary priest got down on his knees and prayed as hard as he could that his worst nightmare had not come true.

"Could UPF be coming back?"

[Darth Fanboy]

Because the new chapter wasn't enough, and because I am having a weird episode possibly involving a chemical imbalance in my brain:

UPF INTERLUDE: "Thirty Five Aint Ready Yet" by Darth Fanboy

"CAPTAIN, JEAN LUC PICARD, YEW-ESS-ESS, EN-TER-PRIZE"
"CAPTAIN, JEAN LUC PICARD, YEW-ESS-ESS, EN-TER-PRIZE"
"CAPTAIN, JEAN LUC PICARD, YEW-ESS-ESS, EN-TER-PRIZE"

Patrick Stewart continued rambling like crazy through the pool area of the Flamingo Hilton in Las Vegas, a combination of viciously potent LSD and a horde of Star Trek Fans screaming for a chance to lick his smooth bald head. He had fled to Las Vegas after a group of rabid Trekkie had set up camp outside his home on the grounds that they were "Waiting for orders." But upon his arrival to his Vegas vacation suite he had been attacked by more trekkies. The person who had booked his hotel for him was in fact, a rabid fan and sold him out on the Internet. Thinking fast he had grabbed the small vial that Ian Mckellen gave him on the set of X Men 3.


UPF FLASH BACK O TRON

"This is what I use to make the Tolkien Fans go away Pat, I believe it could help you too."

"Thank you Sir Ian, but why are you doing this?"

"Let's just say that i've found that Lord of the Rings fans tend to bring at least some hot faux-elven ass with them, and I no longer need to avoid them so much. I've been getting more tail than my days hitchhiking between US Truck stops and Bus Stations with Ron Mexico."

"Damn, how come I never get any of the female fans! The female trekkie always want Brent Spiner's phone number. What a ridiculous cocktard. You know he actually put the Data makeup on his cock and balls too?"

"Damn, that's even crazier than Orlando Bloom shaving his vagina on the set."

"What?"

END OF FLASH BACK

The acid had left him in a perpetual state of exalted euphoria that Patrick had hoped would never end. As he ran around chanting the Techno Remix theme song named after his Star Trek character. However, in his last moment of coherent thought before the drug took hold of him like the icy grip of death on Walt Disney, he wondered if William Shatner ever had to put up with this.

MEANWHILE, SOMEWHERE IN LOS ANGELES

"Oh fuck I'm going to come! Jesus Christ! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

William Shatner bounces his rotund ass off of the bedsprings and up into the ample sized woman over top of him. as their combined flesh jiggled in a way that would make even a Jello Mold Blush. As soon as the last of his usless and malformed sperm entered his conquest's body, Shatner traced his fingers down the stretch marks of her chest, all the way down to her dimpled ass cheeks, stopping only to eat the tortilla chip he found embedded into her thigh.

"Damn baby that was wonderful." Said the Shat as he licked his fingers clean of what he hoped was nacho cheese flavoring.

"Same time next week babe?" said Monica Lewinsky.

BACK AT THE FLAMINGO HILTON IN LAS VEGAS

"NO! FOR FUCK'S SAKE!" Screamed Levar Burton as he woke up from his terrible nightmare.

"What's the matter sugar?" Cooed Whoopi Goldberg from the other side of the bed, holding a rose in her teeth while eagerly spreading maple syrup abound her aging chocolate body.

SOMEWHERE IN A GUTTER IN AN ALLEY OFF THE VEGAS STRIP!

"NOOOOOOO NOT AGAIN!" Screamed PAtrick Stweart, as he emerged from 3 days of slumber amidst a pile of cardboard boxes, crumpled newspapers, and his own feces. The foul stench of his own body odor hit his nose, and caused him to vomit. But after a few moments he realized that the plan had worked. HE had no memory of the past few days, and no Star Trek fans were in sight.

Gathering his composure, he realized he would have to break into the hotel to recover his belongings, knowing in his heart that the Las Vegas police would be looking for him. After all, the last time this sort of thing happened three buildings collpased and several bricks of Grade-A Colombian nose candy were found wedged under his arms, along with twenty seven people suffering from horrible chemical burns.

Patrick Stweart had gone where no British Actor who played a French Spaceship Captain had gone before.

IN THE OTHER GALAXY FAR FAR AWAY

"Admiral Dalla! What are you doing!" Screamed Grand Moff Tarkin.

"Oh come on now Tarky baby, you knew what this was!"

You see, Dalla had a fetish for shaved Wookies. She find the biggest one and shave him completely bald, and then chain it up and Fuck it. And Tarkin walked in on her doing it. It was totally fucking gross. Then, instead of leaving, the old coot just sat there and watched. He had always been into bestiality but the whole concept of the beast being sentient was absolutely revolting to him, despite it being one of the preferred sexual characteristics of 99.94% of the galaxy's inhabitants.

After she had finishedhaving her way with the Shaved Wookie, which she nicknamed BaldyCock, Dalla proceeded to wipe every one of her body parts off with a five dollar biull and then stuffed it down Tarkin's shirt collar. He was so aroused by this he shit his pants.


THE END.



Author's Note: This Interlude was pointless and gross. In other words perfect for UPF. Keep the faith Alive! ~DF

[Singular Quartet]

I'd try and keep the faith alive, but it's moldy and covered in semen stains. At least, I hope they're semen stains.

[Fleet Admiral JD]

UPF...FUCK YEAH

BOOZE AND HOOKERS... FUCK YEAH

FELONIES... FUCK YEAH

HARDCORE PORN... FUCK YEAH

Another awesome episode

[The Spartan]

"Damn, that's even crazier than Orlando Bloom shaving his vagina on the set."

That is the funniest goddamn thing I've read in a long damn time.

I'd try and keep the faith alive, but it's moldy and covered in semen stains. At least, I hope they're semen stains.

I find your lack of faith... disturbing. *fwapfwapfwap...*
VADER!! Release him!
As you wish....

Sorry SQ. No force-job for you!

Anyhow:

UPF...FUCK YEAH

BOOZE AND HOOKERS... FUCK YEAH

FELONIES... FUCK YEAH

HARDCORE PORN... FUCK YEAH