Story Time (in Off-topic)

Story time. Subjects needed.

The 3 Stooges and the issues they have with PMS and/or the harping harridans who rule their lives? I don't know if it'll make a good story, but it's an enchanting basis for conversation over foamy Duff's.

"There is no way I'm eating that." Tyrone objected staunchly.
"Oh you'll eat it, you'll eat it and you'll like it!" Vinny threatened. Vito held Tyrone's arms as Vinny dangled the still squirming centipede above his head. One of Vinny's big meaty hands reached forward, squeezing Tyrone's cheeks, forcing his mouth open. Tyrone struggled in vane, screaming as Vinny forced the insect into his mouth. The insect thrashed violently in Tyrone's mouth, finally stabbing it's pincers into the top of it's roof. He screamed, his eyes bulging from the sockets as the creature burrowed into his jaw, thrashing around as Vinny help his mouth shut. His eyes rolled up in their sockets as the centipede drilled through his skull quickly. Tyrone gave one last thrash, and then went limp, twitching very slightly. Veto released him, and he fell to the ground. The two mobsters could hear the vile squishing sound as the centipede penetrated Tyrone's brainstem, and then a sudden silence. Tyrone slowly rose to his feet, his eyes rolling back down, and his jaw hanging limply open. His head twitched quickly to the left side, and then to the right, his neck cracking loudly. Vinny and Veto then heard a sound which made their skin crawl. It sounded like thousands of voices hissing in unison, a foul symphony of everything base and depraved. Tyrone's jaw didn't move, but his body quivered as the voice whispered from within him. "SO IT BEGINS."

nice intro...

According to the Omnibus Edition of the Galactica Apocalyptica, the Three Stooges did not, in fact, even exist. In the late 21th Century, Curly, Moe, Flippant, and Dirigible whacked, pulled, and boinked themselves out of the cosmos (this was the second generation Stooges, obviously).

What the OEotGA does not cover, however, is the fact that Generation Two of the Three Stooges was actually brought down by a tampon. Regardless of time inexorably moving on, some contraptions remained intractably the same, even in the year 2089.

Moe was sent on an errand. A dreadful errand. Aisle 6 of the local WalgreensEx to pick up some "lady things" for the, um, lady. He got what was asked of him, paid, and left.

What few people know is that the other Stooges acted in real life the same way they did on screen. All except Moe. Moe was earnestly trying to get back to his hovercraft when the other cast members showed up and started in with their silly antics without even considering the delicate parcel (at least in subject) that Moe was scurrying home with.

A piece of technology that HAD advanced in 2089 was the anti-matter propulsion unit of the trusty personal hover craft. EVERYONE knew not to give in to horse play while around a still-running Mark 8 Anti-Float Hover-Unit.

Everyone, that is, except Moe's hapless comrades. They tripped rolled, and poked their way right under the protective cowl surrouding the underside of the Mark 8, and soon all were enveloped in the craft's anti-matter bubble.

They immediately ceased to be. Not then, not ever. They had become Anti.

The box of tampons remained lying in the parking lot until Moe's wife went out searching and found it there. She looked at the still humming craft in the parking slot and thought it looked familiar, but for the life of her, couldn't remember why.

Vinny and Vito stood up, slapping the dust from knees and hands.

"You see dat?" Vito asked.

"Sure, I seen it a hundred times. Them leggy things do the job quick. No muss no fuss," Vinny replied. The two Vs sauntered away, only to be frozen in their tracks by a gurgling noise at their backs.

Tyrone wasn't done quite yet.

"Gentleman!" he exclaimed. "It appears your bug has managed only to...excite me!"

Before V and V could so much as gasp, two of Tyrone's 1000 new arms slipped forth and darted through their throats. The slicing tentacles wrapped around their heads and kept them as trophies.

"Fantastic!" shouted Tyrone as he brought the freed heads to his face. "A millenia of weapons at my disposal!"

Tyrone had become a corpse entombed in bug legs. Even though he had no idea how to run the things, they trundled him down the hill back to the sedan that had brought him there. Tyrone didn't assume he could drive, but that didn't matter -- the legs knew how. 221 feet on the brakes, and 222 on the gas, Tyrone couldn't drive 555. (2 left over to steer)

He drove back to his house, trying to figure out what the new appendages wanted to do with him. They didn't know either. The next several hours were spent opening and closing doors, turning knobs, zipping zippers, and touching...everything.

It was nice the new hands had given him life, but Tyrone wanted more. He wanted to get back to normal: his family, his girl, etc. Sadly, that wasn't going to happen.

The more they felt, the more they wanted to feel. They wanted it all. The hands wanted to hold the World.

By the time the nations of the Earth realized their peril, it was too late. The hands had writhed their way into too many life forms. Too many spinal cords. Too many defense systems. As they touched, they learned.

What does this do? Oh, that.

It wasn't long before the hands realized how clumsy they were.

Great story Chet. I mean, great when Kafka wrote it BACK IN 1912!

I don't know about that Vic, it reminds me of Ursula K. Le Guin's "The 500 Left Hands of Darkness" and Captain Kangaroo's "Two V's makes a Double You" I think I speak for everyone when I ask that Chet reveal just exactly what the connection was between Chet Atkins, Earl Anthony, Charo and the former child star Buckwheat.

*laugh* Yeah, Vicious is just being a punk. It's all good.

Truc, I will take your words as a compliment...I think... *wink*