The Legend of Flowers

Everything else
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by Flowers & Bill Dungsroman

[CENTER]Part 1[/CENTER]

I dismiss other gods because only Crom grants revenge.

-Flowers, Hyborean Age Apologist


Excerpted from: Angels On Pins / Devils On Worlds, the soon-to-be-published memoire by Maurifleece “Flowers” Tzeyauchnefeszky, renowned time-traveling 25th century attorney, technothief, and pedomort.

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Day 14,599[/CENTER]

You want to know what relaxes me? Not being such a fuckin’ pussy.

I guess I wasn’t clear, the only two activities in my town after five p.m. are drinking and drinking while driving. So it’s either videogames or laying the groundwork for plans of world domination. While I do enjoy gaming, I think that everyone here can agree that my first love is engaging in flights of fancy, wild speculation, and pathological stupidity. I like winning in court. I am riding the sulphur scented victor’s wind of three straight dismissals, prior to that, felony acquittal. I am forced to pull late nights so that I can verarsch people on the record. Also, I look for opportunities to relocate. I’m a lawyer, and there are lots of bad ideas about lawyers in pop culture, I think I will now refer to my profession as; STARCHILDE of the HAWKMISTER.

This is not entirely true.

I have totally snapped, I will confess, but I didn’t know that Theo was flexecuted by sexy until just now. So since I am wingnut copropirate pro tempore, I guess I should just say that I could feel the psychic reverberations through the ethernet, like a hundred or fifty souls laughed real hard and then stopped. I demand that Lum stop accusing me of being calm and rational. I’m Quasar, I shape light. Andrew Mayer? Andrew Mayer is a front for Diebold. Tim Elhajj? Who is Tim Elhajj? Does Tim Elhajj go by some other name? Who the fuck is that? Santa. That’s who. I nominate you Grand Randi of the Milky Way Galaxy, for your brave skepticism concerning even mundane matters. Children, if in fact they do exist, will look back and remember, if, in fact, we have reliable proof that the state of the universe at any given “moment,” in what we call “time” has a relationship with any other. When you place your faith in James Randi and Carl Sagan, and doubt the existence of Sasquatch, you infuriate the Sasquatch. Every morning of every day, for you to be safe, Carl Sagan and James Randi must continue to be right. Every single day, Sasquatch would have to not exist. On the other hand, Sasquatch only needs to be real once, and, odds are, after that day, you will have to start believing in spontaneous nut regeneration.

I would disclose my alleged paranormal experiences, except that if paranormal phenomena are ruled out as the cause, I am left as the prime suspect in a grisly string of murders and ferocious toe stubbings. Accept this fact, pal. (Brace yourself.)

FACT: Science is based on Star Trek. You are assuming too much when you assume that life can only spontaneously generate on a planet. You are going to feel like an asshole for saying that when the dimension striding streptocrats from Wagnerian Sean Connery make their pheasants known. Fucking sorcerors. Ok, Mr. Science, did you ever stop to consider that those weren’t twins you were studying, but rather the prime universe child and their negative zone doppleganger? Obviously the bodies are the same, but Dopamine makes negative zoners angry and aggressive. Takes two to tango, Space Ace.

And to “your” exploits, if it so happens that you are not simply a random pattern of phenomena that we have anthropomorphized we shall add the time you found someone’s claim of having a job that all Americans know a significant number of Americans to have by virtue of having seen so many trucks on so many highways so many times based on absolutely nothing at all.

(Part 2 will be posted this afternoon).

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You’re brilliant (both of you) and you have too much time on your hands (just Bill)… and you’re the two posters most likely to be serial killers irl (where were you during CES - on the hunt?) so it’s fitting for you to “work together” on a story.

Looking forward to part two.

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I laughed.

I cried.

It became a part of me.

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I’m reeling in nearly-speechless awe.

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Brilliant!

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I’m myself, and I approve of this thread.

Now watch this drive.

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Wow…a Chandler/Dick pastiche. Brilliant!

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Pure genius!

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No boobies? What a waste.

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The legend, the legend, the Flowers legend…

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A front?

I am Diebold incarnate.

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It reads like the text that spammers include to circumvent spam filters.

Abso-fucking-lutely brilliant.

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Bill has become a human Racter.

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[CENTER]Part 2[/CENTER]

Transcription dictated by INTERPOL, London branch, from a surveillance recording taken at the Bank of England (AKA “The Old Lady of Threadneedle Street”) during an armed robbery/destruction of gold bullion attempt by an as-yet-to-be identified Class 32-C HTA (Humanoid Temporal Anomaly), temporarily assigned alias FLW32C:

(LOUD NOISES BELIEVED TO BE AUTOMATIC GUNFIRE PENDING CONFIRMATION MIXED W/HUMAN SCREAMS.)

FLW32C: Good day, sir! Don’t be a shit slick fish slit getting fucked with thick dicks in your chum cunt tummy, get a PS3.*

*PS3 acronym under investigation, believed to be nomenclature for Subject’s weapon, an as-yet unidentified rifle with three (3) barrels firing what appears to be some modified shell form of plasma energy.

(LOUD NOISES AS ABOVE. MATCHED VIDEO FOOTAGE AT THIS POINT IN THE EVENT HAS A BANK SECURITY GUARD ACTIVATING A SILENT ALARM. LOUD SOUNDS BELIEVED TO BE AUTOMATIC GUNFIRE AS ABOVE.)


FLW32C: Barbeque, motherfucker. We hate tattletales. There you have it folks, conclusive evidence that raising the minimum wage is bad. Who will threaten people with a shotgun for pooping now? Who?

(MVF AT THIS POINT HAS SUBJECT MOVING FROM FRONT LOBBY TO MAIN SAFE FOYER.)

FLW32C: Everything, Nickles. Everything.

(AUDIO CAPTURES UNINTELLIGIBLE PLEAS FOR MERCY FROM BANK PERSONNEL)

FLW32C: Really? Would you? Would you really?

(MVF AT THIS POINT SHOWS SUBJECT FIRING INDISCRIMINATELY AT SURROUNDING BANK PERSONNEL.)


FLW32C: I’m all Vandal Savage up in this bitch. What’s the point of a life without bitter fits of foaming rage? This question separates the people looking for an excuse to go on an extended fancy vacation from the people looking for an excuse to kill a human being. Did you keep in mind the alternative? Why don’t you just feel the rumblings in the aether, you fucking hippy. I thought it was Posner that said modern society suffered from a dearth of public intellectuals? That’s a good idea. I am polite when I talk, even when I am saying horrible, horrible things. I learned that from the English!

(MVF AT THIS POINT HAS SUBJECT ENTERING VAULT VIA USE OF AS-YET-TO-BE-IDENTIFIED EXPLOSIVE ON VAULT DOOR. SUBJECT PROCEEDS TO POUR AS-YET-TO-BE-IDENTIFIED POTENTIALLY CORROSIVE SUBSTANCE THAT APPEARED TO DISSOLVE GOLD BULLION INSIDE VAULT AND COLLECTED BY A SMALL HOSE/TANK APPARATUS WITH SUCTION.)

FLW32C: Hmm, a painting. Or the Cincinnati Bengals? A painting…or my own private island? On the one hand, I could have this painting, on the other hand, I could become a warlord in Africa and fund my own agrarian revolution. Hmm, I’m really stumped. It would be worth $600 just to see how a homeless guy would spend $600. Call it Brewster’s Thousands. I think that most people with their ass on the line are not compensated nearly as well. I still think putting your ass on the line for $400-1000 each day takes a lot of guts. I favor the use of the term mercenary because the term is synonymous with having wicked huge balls. Probably not all of them really did have wicked huge balls. Probably not all of them are awesome as people, but the same is true even of babies that get cancer from oil company experiments, and we still feel sorry for them. Since I know they are both attention and money whores, I would pay them 100 million rand to fuck and then ransom the free world with the threat of releasing a tape of the incident to youtube. On a related note, having everyone die of cancer slowly is a terrible ending to an action movie, what are you trying to do, open the canon of “An Inconvenient Truth,” like it was Star Wars? Yes, I do wish they would have jazzed up Erin Brokovich with a couple gunfights and a car chase.

(MVF AT THIS POINT SHOW SUBJECT MOVE OUT OF VAULT INTERIOR BACK TO FRONT LOBBY. SUBJECT BEGINS SHOOTING BANK PERSONNEL AT RANDOM.)

FLW32C: I got a rock. Engagement ring, STAT! I still remember with pride the day I powered up and unleashed the Dim Mak technique on my naysaying German Grandmother. Are you proposing that I should give to my grandmother the pleasures of the flesh? No, I want to know if that kind of thing is still entertaining. Then you must propose something just as good.

B[/B]

FLW32C: Alright, stop already.

(GUNFIRE AS ABOVE.)

FLW32C: Tell me, was that the last of your skeptic wife? Let’s hope so Bowie, because There’s bugger all down here on Earth!

(GUNFIRE AS ABOVE.)

FLW32C: That man made my sheepdog hyperventilate. I hope he is proud of himself. Oh, yeah, no shit: I was reading an article in a newspaper about this movie and some fancypants intellectual was trying to justify their practice of human sacrifice by saying that, “It was their belief that the gods needed blood to survive.” I’m all like, “Dude, as if that makes it any better. Did anything you just said mean that they didn’t pick out innocent people semirandomly and murder them for no good reason?”

(MVF AT THIS POINT CORRESPONDS TO POLICE FORCES COORDINATING WITH ARMED FORCES SUPPORT SURROUNDING BANK EXTERIOR. COMMUNICATION WITH SUBJECT ATTEMPTED BY DEDICATED TELEPHONE LINE TO BANK INTERIOR.)

FLW32C: Fair enough. Robbing banks is not hard; escaping after a bank robbery is hard. If you could fly, you would rob the bank and fly away with the money, leaving no automobile to trace to you. You could also plant explosives on the bottom of the police and news helicopters that would track your movements in larger urban areas. This would be the time I take to inform you that I had disengaged the Killdozer from its mission because of the understanding brought on by dialog, but, due to an unforeseen technical wrinkle, I must now use this time to warn all shoe salesmen to run for the hills. Without further ado: Alright, it’s time for the feats of strength!

(MVF/AUDIO OF BANK INTERIOR ENDS ABRUPTLY.)

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Brilliance. Sheer brilliance.

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Why does this remind me strangely of John Dillinger’s last words?

And no, it’s got nothing to do with the size of Flowers’ penis. At least, I don’t think so.

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I could not yet post a reply until now, because I was utterly speechless…right down to the tips of my fingers!

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It’s almost a shame that this is overshadowed by the X-Com reality thread.

Almost.

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Genius.

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[CENTER]Part 3[/CENTER]


Excerpted from: Angels On Pins / Devils On Worlds (M. Tzeyauchnefeszky)

[CENTER]Day 14,272[/CENTER]

This is the subject to my essay, “Z.O.G.; Where do I Sign?” My family used to get turned away from certain hotels in the 1960’s, my father tells me, because they didn’t want Jews staying there. This would be a sad story, but my Grandfather, the man to whom this happened, was a gigantic anti-semite. Using racial slurs is the same as taking out your penis. If the mood is right, it’s the perfect spice for the occasion. If you misjudge your audience, you may get punched in the face and arrested. Everyone who knows this lives on the outside of a correctional facility. Everyone who does not know this lives on the inside of a correctional facility.

I get mistaken for Jewish sometimes by the kids offering the free trips to Israel. Don’t lash out prematurely, guys, Franklin (he tries to sell me gold a lot, and uses the word tribute in new and fascinating ways that I had not believed possible, but he loots like a gentleman and a scholar, and he doesn’t flake on quests) was a Nazi who only outed himself as a goose stepping pubescent psychopath during the Sophomore Year Social Studies presentation done by the Nazi “Memorabilia Collector.”

It doesn’t matter what anyone did to anyone else back then, they would all be dead now anyways. Dead and living under Hitler.

Hey, how many funny things can you imagine happening to a cloned Hitler? Say the boys from Brazil finally perfect their secret scientific process, and they resurrect the Fuhrer using DNA from his moustache…

Except now he’s got a peaceful, easy feeling. He doesn’t understand why everyone hates him, since he hasn’t done anything, he’s just a clone of history’s worst butcher, and the Boys from Brazil are always trying to get him to do terrible things, but he just wants to paint, play music, and dance. I ask because I was driving to work today and I had a vision of Adolf Hitler in Nazi Khaki, playing the piano for Tom Petty during, “Don’t Do Me Like That,” and freaking out like he was Little Richard.

The idea is to feel a little sad for a gentle, innocent man who, through no fault of his own, happens to be Adolf Hitler. Kind of a “Hey, Hey, We’re the Monkees,” vibe, except he’s always being chased by an angry mob. Even so, he never loses his positive outlook. Maybe he is constantly tormented by Unfrozen Joe Dimaggio, who refuses to believe that Cloned Hitler has mended his ways, and is always trying to catch him. I could see reincarnated Henry Ford as a foul mouthed little captain of industry that is always trying to trick Cloned Hitler into doing bad things based on the fact that reincarnated Henry Ford is also an adorable, but terminally ill orphan. Did you know Hitler encouraged Germans to procreate?

Or has someone already done this?

No, it wasn’t Herman Goehring. Werner Heilman Schlitzkammer, the man who masturbated into Adolf Hitler’s spaetzle. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, America’s Army! Whether you lie, remain silent, or shit your pants and say, “Orange bucket paint show show show,” you owe it to yourself to give those smut-worshipping tits the distinct impression that they can go get fucked.

Allowing for repeated refinancing of certain debts and obligations, the proceeds from the purchase of the equipment used to produce and record this incident may in fact fund portions of debt or payments due on bonds or investments by foreign corporations who dealt with the Nazis in specific endeavors targeted at violently reducing the overall level of Jewish individuals in German and World society at large. If the explanation does not suffice: the gold goes poof!