Part 2 sounded like he was channeling Deadpool :)
Part 3 continues with the awesomeness!
p.s: I want an autographed copy when you publish the book ! ;)
[CENTER]Part 4[/CENTER]
Transcription dictated by INTERPOL, London branch, from a police video recording taken outside the Bank of England (AKA “The Old Lady of Threadneedle Street”) during an armed robbery attempt by an as-yet-to-be identified Class 32-C HTA (Humanoid Temporal Anomoly), temporarily assigned alias FLW32C:
(MVF HAS SUBJECT EXITING BANK THROUGH FRONT ENTRANCE ON FOOT, SEEMINGLY OBLIVIOUS TO LAW ENFORCEMENT / ARMED FORCES PERSONNEL SURROUNDING BANK EXTERIOR. ORDERS TO DISARM AND LAY FACE DOWN ON THE PAVEMENT BY SITUATION COMMANDER ON SCENE ARE IGNORED BY SUBJECT, WHO BEGINS FIRING INDISCRIMINATELY, PROMPTING A DIRECT EXCHANGE. MVF SHOWS SUBJECT DISCHARGING HIS WEAPON REPEATEDLY AND WITH EXPERT PRECISION AT VARIOUS HUMAN TARGETS, BOTH CIVILIAN AND POLICE/MILITARY.)
FLW32C: Have you ever heard of public property? B[/B] Fuck you too, whitey. B[/B] Arson seconded! Where there’s smoke, there’s a flamer. B[/B] My own apocalypse? What leads you to believe that mobile plants choking human civilization off the face of the Earth wouldn’t be the dawn of my era? You run the field you play alone at your own Chateau, Honky. B[/B] On a more serious note, I see all human contact as merely solicitous behavior that should not be indulged. Was the wire mother in your creche not enough for you? Skin is for feeling the hot wind of Surt piss sand crystals across your flexing chest you as you ride into glorious battle stripped nude, atop the Panzer at the front of your armored division. B[/B] Holy gunshot violence, Batman! B[/B] As if it’s up to you whether unstoppable karate takes you. Agreement not necessary. b[/b] That is some Pat Robertson type shit.
(MVF HAS SUBJECT ENGAGING AND AS-YET-UNIDENTIFIED DEVICE ON HIS BACK, BELIEVED TO BE SOME SORT OF PERSONAL FLIGHT TRANSPORT. SUBJECT IS SEEN MANIPULATING PART OF IT THAT SEEMS TO HAVE BEEN DAMAGED IN THE EXCHANGE. SUBJECT IS THEN SEEN MANIPULATING ANOTHER PART OF IT AND THEN SUBJECT DISAPPEARS ABRUPTLY FROM VIEW. EVENTS CONCERNING DISAPPEARANCE CLASSIFIED ULTRA-TOP-SECRET.)
[CENTER]Part 5[/CENTER]
Excerpted from: Angels On Pins / Devils On Worlds (M. Tzeyauchnefeszky)
[B][CENTER]Day 14,600, Sunday
AM Entry
[/CENTER][/B]
It’s morning in Atlantis. Then what does that make today? Congratulations, you are now 40, this is the time in your life when a boy must journey into the mountains, so that he may steal dreamiron from the dwarves, and such, forge his own destiny. Fie! Go ahead and gut social security. (my meddlesome friend) I thought I was going to have to use robots (super expensive) or feral children (not as expensive, not as durable) for the suppression murdersquadrons in my futuregov. I already have artforces prepared to deploy pamphlets similar to Chick Tracts but espousing the benefits of Valhalla. (My Golden Corral and Old Country Buffet all you can eat restaurant chains will reveal their true function as Churches of Odin and Thor, respectively, when the time is right.). So please, please, whatever you do, don’t turn old people out on their ears so that I have easy access to pilled out killers with nothing to lose. Oh, knock it the fuck off. Old people stink up planes. As you age, your body goes through…changes.
I answer the door on a sunny Sunday morning to find a man in a pinstripe suit with a boutonniere punching me in the face while manipulating a dog’s squeaky toy in his left hand. The squeaky toy is a porcupine, children are singing the background, I smell fresh cut grass. The man throws a copy of a shredded tax return for a Wendy’s franchise just barely in the black. In a strangely raspy, frantically pubescent rollercoaster of pitch; "I’m Tim Burton I wish the whole world was The Cure!"
“Good day, sir.” I’ve been drinking since four o’ clock central. My dad calls NYE, “amateur night.” Nostrils flaring, I lower my head. My horn, like some phallic symbol of my potent virility, is the last thing you see as skulls collide and mine remains the victor. “You are now a bloody red ragdoll suspended in the air on my mighty horn. That’s pretty close, but I’d be going for more of a pokey little puppy vibe. Making people say, ‘Awwwww,’ and ‘Ohh!’ For an adorable, sad, little man. Like when a pet gets something stuck somewhere, and is trying to get it back. That feeling. But about Hitler.”
It looks like someone is finding out what is best in life, Conan style.
Kill again. That’s awesome. I am getting married next year and Minnesota is the state next to mine. Time to make my fiance think our wedding is going to be a disaster!
You run the field you play alone, butterfly. Especially when you embrace the Dark Side of the Force. Let’s go take a dip in the Stwawbuwwy wiver! Road trip!
[CENTER]Part 6
[/CENTER]
Transcription dictated by CIA, Nevada branch, from a cell phone recording taken at Laura Dearing grade school during a hostage situation perpetrated by an as-yet-to-be identified Class 32-C HTA (Humanoid Temporal Anomaly), temporarily assigned alias FLW32C. Note that transmission begins approx. only 10 minutes after Subject departed from outside Bank of England following robbery attempt/vandalization of bullion, adjusting for time zone differences. Video footage taken classified Ultra Top Secret).
B[/B]
FLW32C: You watch your whore mouth, whoremouth. Another parent who thinks his child’s magic score and mana pool are the same thing. No wonder we have a crisis in our schools. Let me clarify, I need the increased mystical potency for spelllike abilities, not straight spellcasting. There was some sort of crimson dust that let you shift space and time I heard about in Redbook, know anything about that?
(GUNFIRE)
FLW32C: I think you missed the part where I told you not to disagree with me or I would cry. Now you have the tears of an alleged orphan on your hands. Just because I’m never going to die or get old, Ted, does not mean I want to spend all of the Sixteenth Century listening to you complain. Eternal life is too short to put up with your whining.
B
[/B]
FLW32C: Bill O’Reilly jacked off a baby and then ate it!
(GUNFIRE NOT MATCHING RECORDED DISHARGE OF SUBJECT’S WEAPON. IT IS BELIEVED AN ADULT STAFFMEMBER OF THE SCHOOL HAD A CONCEALED HANDGUN. THIS INFORMATION CLASSIFIED.)
FLW32C: I like this idea, also, winner has to kill the loser. Otherwise, they both fight Gragorshik, Enforcer of Blades. It would be immoral to refuse to besmirch your soul when so many innocent lives hang in the balance.
[B]
(GUNFIRE AS ABOVE.)[/B]
FLW32C: Ok, I hope a bear strictly construes your cock off and you never get a new dick because your friends outlaw science and medicine. I have never been so on the fence. This is quite the conundrum, however, my love of freedom is ultimately no match for my hatred of children. All I need is for you to play right into my hands…
(HUMAN SCREAMS)
FLW32C: You know, why is electricity torture? What’s wrong with a little bone breaking? Can’t I suffocate him, just a little?
(HUMAN SCREAMS)
FLW32C: It’s still fucking funny.
[CENTER]Part 7[/CENTER]
Excerpted from: Angels On Pins / Devils On Worlds (M. Tzeyauchnefeszky)
[B][CENTER]
Day 14,600, Sunday
Final Entry
[/CENTER][/B]
Wonder if the phone had a camera and if the camera had any nakeds on it.
Children like to be scared. Is it safe!?! No, Captain Facetious, the theory that real violence < pretend violence - unless you are talking cannibalism, then it is actually safer to eat replicants than real people. I think it has to do with the fact replicants have better diets. I can’t tell if this is a joke about Third World famine. I always forget. You are thinking of Protocol Fifty-four, “Regarding The Children and Their Toys.” I’ve told you once.
I’ll give you a hint, it’s finger lickin’ good, fingerlicker. The dark, sunken eyesockets are the kicker.
Sounds like someone’s super intelligence doesn’t come with super confidence in his super contraptions.
I confess that I made the decision to become an attorney during a wild experience on magic mushrooms on 4-20-1999 and that I do not regret it.
It’s fine. Really no one plays Monopoly against me anymore. Or anything else, for that matter. That’s why I always end up playing with myself. But the good fight is to make the liars beat you. Don’t stay out of the fight because you are going to lose. If you are going to lose, fuck them, make them beat you. Make them waste their money and dirty their hands to take you. And know that most of the time you will lose, but you don’t need to win most of the time, you only need to win once, and they need to win them all.
I picked slow death. Fast death is disturbingly light on morphine and “Price is Right.” 6, 7, 4, 10, 12, 5, 1, 2, 9, 3, 11, 8. I never remembered my score and that always pissed everyone off.
Two things, plainly put for convenience and purpose:
Issue the First: I woke up one Christmas Eve and met Santa. It was out of fucking control. My parents were there and my brother was there and it was nighttime, but I caught him so everyone was laughing and playing and we even forgot about toys and then I went back to bed. The flurry of cookies and juice and smiles had to end sometime. The next morning I couldn’t remember if I had met Santa last night, or last Christmas Eve, but I remembered meeting Santa. I mentioned how fun it was to my parents, and they denied it ever happened, and my brother denied it ever happened, so I was left feeling kind of weird and out. I was sad every Christmas when I would think about it.
Until I turned twelve and found the picture of me when I was five or six, sitting in the living room, around Christmas time. Do you know who was in the picture with me?
Merry Christmas.
Issue the Second: I have seen you in my visions, Chelsea Sue Pendelthwaite, and I accept your challenge. Astral Combat, to the minddeath! A second life is for jackbat moontards.
[CENTER]fin[/CENTER]
(Stands up. Slow, rising applause.)
tl;dr
An epic for the millenia.
This is possibly the greatest thing ever written. Now someone turn it into a movie! Who would play Flowers?
I’d suggest Flowers.
…
I have my new religion.
Flowers is the new prophet, and Bill D his Abu Bakr.
Actually I’m picturing a kind of Young Frankenstein thing with Flowers as Mel Brooks and Dungsroman as Marty Feldman. You know, the demented mad scientist mastermind and his warped sick^H^H^H^Hsycophant.
“Igor! More brains!”
“Yes Master!”
Thanks, guys. It was sort of an experiment, so I appreciate you all letting me test it out.
All of it is amazing, but this paragraph in particular really knocked me out.
And Spoofy only gave this week on QT3 a 6? Wow.
Spoofy doesn’t like me. I peed in his mouth once when he was passed out drunk, he’s never forgiven me.
Fuck, I’m not sure I would either. Unless I got to return the favor at some point. You owe it to Spoofy to pass out drunk near him sooner or later.
Or I guess technically you don’t have to be passed out… OMG GAY!!!1!11
Oh yeah, forgot to mention: BRILLIANT, Bill and Flowers. BRILLIANT. I really want to see android Flowers going up against a maxed out HK-47…
“On a more serious note, I see all human contact as merely solicitous behavior that should not be indulged. Was the wire mother in your creche not enough for you?”
“You know, why is electricity torture? What’s wrong with a little bone breaking?”
Shit, I can’t even tell which of them is which!
More like Flowers is God and Bill is Moses…
Good stuff in any case.
Wow, Flowers, are you really that fucked up or is Bill taking Creative License?
;)
A little column A, a little column B.
I added some punctuation here and there, but the only line I altered in any way was the last onse about second life and jackbat moontards. You’ll pardon my one trespass.
Bravo!