As with all stories worth reading (unlike this one), it is useful to construct a character map. We list here the characters introduced to the story so far. Updates will follow and will be noted with a ^.
Ani Wan Buttme
Nobedee Wan Buttme
Paul Reed Smith
Autumn Sky (princess)
^ Gloria Sass
^ President David Grissom
^ Highlander (eaten)
^ Bernie Marsden
^ Davy Knowles
^ Princess Summerfall Winterspring (Twinkied)
^ Bob Coffey
^ Salesman Greg
^ Christopher James
^ Sir Geo the White
^ Darr-in (dispatched)
^ Mot D-hoople
Jane Buzzdriver (T'ok M'gill, aka L'ill, aka N'ancy)
Grand T'ok Schiddt
T'ok Tofuturr'kay (destroyed)
List'sin Twodoo'hr Mut'sik
^ T'ok Tuu'meeh
Snow White (mothership)
Dopey (scout :: destroyed)
T'ok home planet:
^ The No:ah:
^ No:ah Counta (drowned)
T'ok M'gill twisted the throttle on her Vespa. She had to get to the boarding stable and retrieve her steed. She laughed out loud as she thought of her cover story, that the horn was a prosthetic to cure the "horse's" wandering eye condition. The unicorn had been stabled for years and no one was the wiser.
As she laughed, a bird slammed into her mouth. She gave it one bone-crushing crunch and swallowed it whole.
I like the list idea and the continuation of the story line, Ruger!
I have to run to a recording session tonight at a friend's studio, so keep up the great work!
The zombies descended en masse upon the suddenly exposed Highlander. Screaming, he was devoured...hundreds of years of sage wisdom and accrued and acquired insanity...... so highly regarded and so wantonly wasted.
Originally Posted by LSchefman
The story continues however. It must go on. An homage to the eaten Highlander is more than appropriate...it is a fitting and eloquent desert.
As Lazlo was playing he cought sight of some light peeking out from the side of a door. He put down the guitar and walked over to take a look. He cought site of some PRS guitars he hadn't seen before including one which looked like a blue Bernie Marsden. "I thought that was a myth" he mumbled to himself. He didn't have much time to think before Paul grabbed him by the arm.
"You must never, never speak of what you've seen!" Paul said firmly.
"I'm sorry Paul, I was just..." Lazlo didn't have time to finish his sentence.
"There's someone I want you to meet, come with me" Paul said as he pushed the door to the mysterious room closed.
Paul and Lazlo walked into the pickup winding room. "Lazlo, meet Gloria."
"Hi i'm Lazlo Buzzdriver."
"HI Lazlo, i'm Gloria Sass" She said in low, smoky voice. "Pleased to meet you Gloria Saas" Lazlo said in return. His voiced suddenly higher piched.
Gloria was the kind of woman you only see in movies but rarely in real life. Five feet and five inches of perfection. Her long dark hair billowed gently down her smooth, perfectly defined face. A perfect frame for her sparkling brown eyes and full, sensual lips Despite the freezing temperatures outside it was comforatble inside the factory. Naturally, Gloria was dressed in the bare minimum which showed off her curvy figure to the maximum. "I'll leave you two to chat, I need to call the President!" With that Paul headed up to his office.
Paul's office was relatively threadbare, save for various guitar parts and some pictures on the wall. He reached for the telephone which suddenly seemed leaden with the weight of the call he was about to make. He dialled the number carefully before hitting dial.
"The White House, how can I help you" The voice enquired.
"It's Paul Smith, get me President Grissom!" He demanded.
"I don't think the President needs a new jumper Mr Smith"
"I'm not the English fashion designer!!! I'm Paul Reed Smith!"
"I'm sorry Mr Smith. I'll get the President right away!"
Moments later Paul heard the familiar Texan drawl. "Hey Paul, how can I help?"
"Call me David, we're friends."
"David.... We've got a major problem!." Paul explained the situation to Grissom.
" Okay Paul, i'll get my best men down there as soon as I can. And don't forget... WE need to fill the Unicorn Gap!"
This was going to be a battle to end all battles...
Gloria reminded Lazlo of Autumn Sky, but with a twist. Where Gloria was curvy, Autumn was perky. Gloria's brown eyes were deep and mysterious where Autumn's eyes were the multi-hued browns and golds of changing leaves. Gloria's hair was long and black, almost silky. Autumn had brown hair which, like her eyes, had many hi lights of the season of her namesake.
Gloria felt Lazlo's eyes on her and turned to meet his gaze with a smile. But she instead saw in Lazlo's eyes the unmistakable yearning for another woman. No matter, Gloria could have her pick of any of the skilled and muscular workers in the plant.
"Come," said Gloria. "Paul wanted me to show you the new UX 409 pickups we've made to better kill the unicorns. The 'UX' is for 'Unicorn eXtermination'. They are based on the new 408 pickups but they are specially tuned, much hotter and potted in a specially developed wax." Lazlo followed her past shipping and through final assembly into the small electronics section. There, to his surprise, Lazlo came face to face with a huge smile wearing a plaid shirt. It was Davy Knowles.
Lazlo and Davy were old friends, of course, ever since Lazlo's old band "Front Door Slam" had opened for Davy's old band.
Ani Wan Buttme knew the power of The Farce to confuse the easily led, as he boldly strolled into the zombie enclosure in a cleverly improvised zombie disguise, appearing to be a zombie football coach. He was stopped by a sentry, who asked, "Who goes there?"
"Jim Hard-Ball," he replied. "What's your deal""
"What's *your* deal," said the sentry, confused.
"I asked you 'What's your deal' first. Don't try to 'What's your deal' me when I'm 'What's your dealing' you. I'm here to see Izmore and coach him up. Let me pass."
"Let him pass!" shouted the sentry. "He's a coach. Move along."
Ani-Wan stealthily moved toward Izmor's tent, and opened the flap just enough to see inside. Too late. Autumn Sky had been moved. "Ani-Wan let out his breath and muttered, "Dang."
"Dang indeed." It was Izmor. Ani-Wan hadn't heard him. Izmore wasn't fooled. His zombie club came down on Buttme's head, hard, and the older man crumpled to the ground.
"I played for Hard-Ball after he took a job in Detroit. And you sure as hell ain't him," he snarled.
T'ok M'gill wheeled her Vespa around the long curving side of the stables. She picked up the leather mallet and rang the triangular bell. Hard.
The stable girl Counta appeared presently wearing dirty overalls and sandals. "May I help you?"
M'gill snorted through her human mask and said, "I'm here for my Uni - uh- horse. I'm Jane Buzzdriver."
Counta mumbled something under her breath and pointed to the cubit stables beyond. M'gill strode off ahead, up the gangplank into the hay filled array of cubits.
She saw green alligators and long necked geese, some humpy-backed camels and some chimpanzees. Some cats and rats and elephants, but as sure as she was born, she just couldn't find her unicorn.
M'gill wheeled on Counta, "Where the hell is my 'horse'?"
"I'm afraid that your 'horse' saw another 'horse' while exercising and it jumped the fence. We're very sorry…"
M'gill's mind raced. Then she got it. Counta was not human, she was a No:ah. It explained the diversity of the stable, and the poor attention to the unicorn.
No:ah Counta was backing away slowly. She had suspected that Jane Buzzdriver was a T'ok ever since she stabled her 'horse' at the Arc Stables. The No:ah hated the T'ok and particularly the unicorns, especially after that last really rainy season on Earth.
The No:ah were a nomadic people, easily blending in with humanoids across the galaxy. They were animal rights activists and tended to set up Arc shelters where ever they settled.
T'ok M'gill glared at No:ah Counta, "Did you at least keep my saddle and gear?" Counta pointed a shaky finger at the corner.
Then, with no warning, T'ok M'gill pushed No:ah Counta backwards into the large watering trough where she sank and drowned.
The No:ah blended in with humanoids only to a point. Their being extraterrestrials made them about three and a half times denser on Earth. And, as a race, they hated water - they never learned to swim.
Jumba-Jimba rolled the unicorn corpse off of his damaged leg. He'd been through this kind of thing before. He ripped off the useless leg at the hip joint and then scooted to the dead unicorn. With zombie strength he ripped off the left hind leg of the unicorn in exactly the same way, the ball of its femur protruding from the flesh oozing silver unicorn blood.
Jumba sucked the unicorn blood out of the femoral vein and artery lustily and swallowed. Unicorn blood had a strange effect on zombies - it was like pure alcohol, but without the hangover. He jammed the ball of the unicorn femur into his hip socket with a squishy 'plop' just as the rush hit.
He stood and tested his new leg. "Good as new!" he thought to himself. He quickly diced the carcass of the unicorn and loaded it onto one of the two unicorns Day-O had left him. Climbing aboard a second steed, he spurred the unicorn into a gallop to catch up with the rest of the unit. Holding the reigns of the pack unicorn to follow, he emitted a great, silver fart. The cloud of zombie fart tinged with unicorn blood took several minutes to dissipate after Jumba was gone.
I'll bet none of this stuff ever really happened.
Maybe the reality sensors on your Vogon Construction Ship need re-aligning....
Originally Posted by docbennett
Ruger, your last story post is genius. Really. Still laughing here!
:biggrin: I almost injured myself with the song in the arc.... it cracks me up every time I re-read it.
Originally Posted by LSchefman
Sorry to derail, but it's purely for construction and demolition. We blast planets to make room for the interplanetary superhighway. No reality sensors on board, but we do use the infinite probability drive to get from point A to point B. But that's an entirely different story.
Originally Posted by rugerpc
Back to the continuing saga.
There was a flurry of activity in the zombie camp near the Charlestown, WV races. The zombies were in good spirits having received yet another T'ok shipment of unicorns and audio locators.
The rank and file zombies were trying them both out riding up and down the racetrack shooting each other with paintball guns and then checking the audio locators. As a yellow ball slammed hard into zombie Tab-itha's right hip, she sang an old zombie tune apropro to their current camp location, "Camp Town Races, sing this song, Do Da, Do Da…"
Zombie unit leader En-doraa heard her granddaughter Tab-itha across the infield, but she had other things on her mind. Her daughter Sam-anntha was her second in command and was looking worried. Zombie Darr-In had ridden off yesterday to meet with Mor Izmor and had not been heard from since.
Davy Knowles had reason to smile. He pointed to a large beaker with Darr-in's zombie brain soaking in KC Masterpiece. "Caught this runner just outside of Frederick, Maryland on my why here. It took two stanzas of Come Home to drop his unicorn steed. Then I popped him in his left eye with this."
Davy held up an old Colt Buntline Special with its twelve inch barrel, chambered in the potent .45 Colt. "I got this from President Grissom himself after a really cool jam at the Experience last year."
Lazlo gave Davy a big grin. He knew that Davy would share the sweet zombie brain with him for lunch.
"I'm here to get some pup upgrades, I hear the new pups can drop a unicorn with just one well fingered power chord," said Davy. Gloria, despite her sultry self-confidence, blushed when the handsome Knowles looked at her.
T'ok Tuu'meeh crabbed his T'ok fighter De'videby'zheero sideways across the sky towards the mothership Snow White. He had been escorting T'ok Tofutuur'kay above the Stevensville plant when the Solothurn had ripped the latter's ship to shreds. Shrapnel from the exploding Dopey had taken out his entire forward mirror array. The result being that T'ok Tuu'meeh had to keep his aft mirror array towards Earth to stay hidden.
The sidewise progress was slow and dangerous and required all of his skills. There was no time to spare to contact the mothership and relate what had happened to T'ok Tofuturr'kay or the massive firepower surrounding the Kent Island plant. He steadfastly followed an eons-long principal of flying: aviate, navigate, communicate. That is, the task priority was in that order and at the present time, he could spare no time for communications.
I need to read this thread and participate. I love creative writing.
looking forward to it :)
Originally Posted by ]-[ @ n $ 0 |v| a T ! ©