New idiotic story
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Spazmo
- Haha you're still not there yet
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- Joined: Wed Jun 12, 2002 4:17 am
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Part 2! A plot begins to take shape in my mind.
Some hours later, Atoga found himself in a nondescript white room. He was lying on a comfortable bed with white linens. He was wearing a white t-shirt and white boxers. Next to his bed, a small wooden table, painted white, was bare except for a slender vase containing a single orchid�white. The white curtains on his window had been pulled back. He could see a short expanse of green hills before a thick treeline obscured the horizon.
Having hardly ever left the urban environment of metropolitan Toronto, this environment was unfamiliar to Atoga. He understood this was where rolling paper and such was meant to come from. He had a hard time reconciling the familiar wrappings of his first and always favourite high with the large brown cylinder things he saw. He tried to open the window and found it was sealed shut. Probably some safeguard against those suicidal types. Hah. Yes.
He heard a knock at the door behind him. This was unusual. Usually, when he happened to be living somewhere with a door, people would just barge into his room to bum a joint, to abuse him mercilessly or, so very long ago, to wake him up for school.
A nurse, clad all in white, cracked open the door. “Mr. Atoga? We’re ready for you,� she said. Atoga nodded, threw on a white bathrobe and followed the nurse out of his room. She led him down a white hallway illuminated by white neon lights. They passed through one set of swinging doors, then another, then turned left and went through another set of doors and finally emerged into a large room.
This room was white, like all the others. Five chairs forming a wide circle arc were carefully placed in the centre of the room. Three of the chairs were occupied. The nurse waved Atoga into a fourth before sitting down herself in the last.
In the first chair was the man in the coat from�perhaps�the previous night. He no longer wore his long raincoat, but rather an expensive looking suit. The next chair was occupied by a skinny man with short, neat hair. Next to him was a teenager of about Atoga’s age, maybe a bit more. Unlike the emaciated junkie, though, he was bloated, rolls of fat hanging from the plastic chair’s sides. His hair was curly and well groomed and his chin was adorned with one of those pubic hair beards teenagers seem to favour. After him was Atoga, and to Atoga’s right, the nurse, who now had a clipboard on her lap and was ready to take notes.
“Good morning, Atoga,� said the man in the suit. “I’m glad you could join us today. We’ve got a lot to do. I’d like you to meet your new colleagues.� He pointed to the skinny man. “This is Aptyp and that next to him is Susan.�
Atoga stared at the two. He decided he hated them both. He was sure it was mutual.
“I’ve brought all three of you here because you all have something in common,� continued the man in the suit. Atoga looked again at the so-called peers. He desperately hoped he had as little in common as possible with either one.
“All three of you suffer from addictions. Atoga, you’re a crack fiend who will allow himself to be violated in completely unnatural ways just to get a hit.�
“Well, okay,� said Atoga, “but it’s hardly fair to hold it against me, I mean�� The man in the suit cut him off, turning to the skinny man.
“You, Aptyp, are a dirty fucking drunk who sees the world through the bottom of a bottle.�
“Fuck you, capitalist dog, I refuse to submit to your�� Again, the man in the suit interrupted, saying, “Yes, yes, shut up, rummy. And you,� he turned to the corpulent mass in the chair in the middle of the group, “you, Susan, cannot fucking shut up.�
Susan gave no vocal response, but his face twisted into a macabre mockery of a frown, his gaping mouth taking the shape of a half moon with the flat side facing downwards. It was a horrifying thing to behold and reminded Atoga of some of his nastier acid trips.
“Knock that the fuck off, Susan,� snarled the man in the suit. “It’s okay,� he muttered to himself, “it’s okay. You’ll break him. Yes.� He stood up and continued.
“But I can help you. I can make you all better. I can make you more than you are, more than anyone ever was. I can make you Magnificent.�
When he heard the man in the suit say the word, something resonated in Atoga. Magnificent… the word had some meaning, some hold on him. He saw that Susan and Aptyp were similarly affected. The man in the suit smiled his enigmatic smile.
“I think you are beginning to understand now. You are all defined by your weaknesses, your vices, your darkest, most pathetic traits, but I can take those and turn them to your advantage. What do you say? Will you take your first steps towards… Magnificence?�
Susan stood up, with help from the nurse. He waddled over to the man in the suit and said, “I hate people with a fucked up eye.� He then once again twisted his face into that horrible grimace. The man in the suit, mere inches away from the horrid face of Susan, noticed his left eye was bleeding a bit. “I will assume,� he said, “that means yes. Now please go away.�
Then, Aptyp said, “Will there be free booze? And will it further the cause of international communism?�
The man in the suit blinked. After a moment he said, “Yes, and maybe.� Aptyp clapped his hands together once and then rubbed them together with enthusiasm.
“Good enough for me and Comrade Lenin!� He then marched off down a hallway. The man in the suit turned to Atoga. “And what of you, my young friend? What’s your decision?�
“Uhm,� said Atoga, “you’re not going to rape me or anything, right?� He winced.
“…no,� said the man in the suit. “No, I will not rape you.�
Atoga shrugged. “Alright.�
***
Somewhere very far away, a man was sitting in a plush chair. He had just been told something by a figure that was now scurrying away as fast as it could. The man in the chair said, “Oho. Yes.� He then pulled a bottle out of seemingly nowhere and then began to rock it back and forth in front of him, almost hypnotically. “Yes,� he added. “Ehue.�
Some hours later, Atoga found himself in a nondescript white room. He was lying on a comfortable bed with white linens. He was wearing a white t-shirt and white boxers. Next to his bed, a small wooden table, painted white, was bare except for a slender vase containing a single orchid�white. The white curtains on his window had been pulled back. He could see a short expanse of green hills before a thick treeline obscured the horizon.
Having hardly ever left the urban environment of metropolitan Toronto, this environment was unfamiliar to Atoga. He understood this was where rolling paper and such was meant to come from. He had a hard time reconciling the familiar wrappings of his first and always favourite high with the large brown cylinder things he saw. He tried to open the window and found it was sealed shut. Probably some safeguard against those suicidal types. Hah. Yes.
He heard a knock at the door behind him. This was unusual. Usually, when he happened to be living somewhere with a door, people would just barge into his room to bum a joint, to abuse him mercilessly or, so very long ago, to wake him up for school.
A nurse, clad all in white, cracked open the door. “Mr. Atoga? We’re ready for you,� she said. Atoga nodded, threw on a white bathrobe and followed the nurse out of his room. She led him down a white hallway illuminated by white neon lights. They passed through one set of swinging doors, then another, then turned left and went through another set of doors and finally emerged into a large room.
This room was white, like all the others. Five chairs forming a wide circle arc were carefully placed in the centre of the room. Three of the chairs were occupied. The nurse waved Atoga into a fourth before sitting down herself in the last.
In the first chair was the man in the coat from�perhaps�the previous night. He no longer wore his long raincoat, but rather an expensive looking suit. The next chair was occupied by a skinny man with short, neat hair. Next to him was a teenager of about Atoga’s age, maybe a bit more. Unlike the emaciated junkie, though, he was bloated, rolls of fat hanging from the plastic chair’s sides. His hair was curly and well groomed and his chin was adorned with one of those pubic hair beards teenagers seem to favour. After him was Atoga, and to Atoga’s right, the nurse, who now had a clipboard on her lap and was ready to take notes.
“Good morning, Atoga,� said the man in the suit. “I’m glad you could join us today. We’ve got a lot to do. I’d like you to meet your new colleagues.� He pointed to the skinny man. “This is Aptyp and that next to him is Susan.�
Atoga stared at the two. He decided he hated them both. He was sure it was mutual.
“I’ve brought all three of you here because you all have something in common,� continued the man in the suit. Atoga looked again at the so-called peers. He desperately hoped he had as little in common as possible with either one.
“All three of you suffer from addictions. Atoga, you’re a crack fiend who will allow himself to be violated in completely unnatural ways just to get a hit.�
“Well, okay,� said Atoga, “but it’s hardly fair to hold it against me, I mean�� The man in the suit cut him off, turning to the skinny man.
“You, Aptyp, are a dirty fucking drunk who sees the world through the bottom of a bottle.�
“Fuck you, capitalist dog, I refuse to submit to your�� Again, the man in the suit interrupted, saying, “Yes, yes, shut up, rummy. And you,� he turned to the corpulent mass in the chair in the middle of the group, “you, Susan, cannot fucking shut up.�
Susan gave no vocal response, but his face twisted into a macabre mockery of a frown, his gaping mouth taking the shape of a half moon with the flat side facing downwards. It was a horrifying thing to behold and reminded Atoga of some of his nastier acid trips.
“Knock that the fuck off, Susan,� snarled the man in the suit. “It’s okay,� he muttered to himself, “it’s okay. You’ll break him. Yes.� He stood up and continued.
“But I can help you. I can make you all better. I can make you more than you are, more than anyone ever was. I can make you Magnificent.�
When he heard the man in the suit say the word, something resonated in Atoga. Magnificent… the word had some meaning, some hold on him. He saw that Susan and Aptyp were similarly affected. The man in the suit smiled his enigmatic smile.
“I think you are beginning to understand now. You are all defined by your weaknesses, your vices, your darkest, most pathetic traits, but I can take those and turn them to your advantage. What do you say? Will you take your first steps towards… Magnificence?�
Susan stood up, with help from the nurse. He waddled over to the man in the suit and said, “I hate people with a fucked up eye.� He then once again twisted his face into that horrible grimace. The man in the suit, mere inches away from the horrid face of Susan, noticed his left eye was bleeding a bit. “I will assume,� he said, “that means yes. Now please go away.�
Then, Aptyp said, “Will there be free booze? And will it further the cause of international communism?�
The man in the suit blinked. After a moment he said, “Yes, and maybe.� Aptyp clapped his hands together once and then rubbed them together with enthusiasm.
“Good enough for me and Comrade Lenin!� He then marched off down a hallway. The man in the suit turned to Atoga. “And what of you, my young friend? What’s your decision?�
“Uhm,� said Atoga, “you’re not going to rape me or anything, right?� He winced.
“…no,� said the man in the suit. “No, I will not rape you.�
Atoga shrugged. “Alright.�
***
Somewhere very far away, a man was sitting in a plush chair. He had just been told something by a figure that was now scurrying away as fast as it could. The man in the chair said, “Oho. Yes.� He then pulled a bottle out of seemingly nowhere and then began to rock it back and forth in front of him, almost hypnotically. “Yes,� he added. “Ehue.�
Your writing doesn't cause me to cringe, Spazmo. Yet.
I shall, for the greater good, restrain myself from deciding whether I should be feeling honoured or violated at this moment in time. Yes.
I reserve the right to will you out of existence if the latter, of course. But you already knew that, of that I am most certain. Yes ? Naturally !
I shall, for the greater good, restrain myself from deciding whether I should be feeling honoured or violated at this moment in time. Yes.
I reserve the right to will you out of existence if the latter, of course. But you already knew that, of that I am most certain. Yes ? Naturally !
-
Spazmo
- Haha you're still not there yet
- Posts: 3590
- Joined: Wed Jun 12, 2002 4:17 am
- Location: Monkey Island
- Contact:
Chapter the third; in which the story takes a turn for the crap
Atoga found himself again in the same room. The walls, fortunately, were no longer white. In the months since he had first arrived in this place, he had been allowed to decorate the room as he saw fit. Now, the walls were adorned with a gaudy psychedelic pattern peeking through between faded posters promoting LSD fueled bands. Next to the bed, on the table, an ashtray was overflowing with half smoked joints. Another joint, lit, was hanging from the corner of Atoga’s mouth as he threw paint at a canvas with a small catapult.
Atoga fired a glob of red at his latest painting and then stopped to consider the piece of art he was actively creating. He was sure it meant something. The art critics would surely figure it out for him. They were very helpful like that.
He took a long drag on his joint and savoured the rich and tasty marijuana. He had forgotten how delightful a good doobie could be. He had wrecked himself on cocaine and heroin and other, worse concoctions to the point that he barely felt the highs anymore. In the last few months, though, the man in the suit and his medical staff had helped him.
They had removed his addictions, yes, and that was already a lot, but that was only the beginning of what they’d done for (to?) him. He puffed on the joint again. Long sessions of hypnosis had delved deep into his mind, seeking some potential within to be awakened. He saw a fly buzz into the room through the window, which now opened. He focused his thoughts and reached out to the fly with his mind. The insect buzzed with frenetic activity for a moment before slowing down and mellowing. It lazily drifted to a stop on the window’s ledge and then seemed to become totally still, with every muscle in its body totally relaxed. In his mind, Atoga felt the fly’s tiny mind express its general contentment and amazement at the size of its forelegs.
Atoga smiled and puffed hard on his joint. He was able to share his constant state of total highness with any living mind. There were few who could resist the relaxing, intoxicating effect of his empathic drug power.
Atoga glanced at the clock on his wall. It seemed to be melting. He blinked a couple of times and the clock resumed its proper solid state. He saw that it was Time. He released the fly from his power and shooed it out the window before leaving his room for the conference chamber.
When he arrived, he found Susan and the man in the suit waiting for him, as well as the usual nurse. Atoga glanced hatefully at Susan, who idly floated in the hoverchair specially designed to support his immense weight. Their gazes met. Susan instantly deployed his fearsome grimace, which had been rendered even deadlier by the man in the coat’s careful conditioning. Atoga retaliated by sending Susan a magic mushroom trip where he found himself in a canoe on the sun. He wasn’t able to send the full effect to Susan because he was distracted by the horror of the corpulent teenager’s face, but he was satisfied to see beads of sweat forming on Susan’s enormous forehead.
“Knock it off,� said the man in the suit, “both of you.�
Atoga exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Relax, man, it’s all cool.�
“Is it why it's yellow?� said Susan. Atoga and the man in the suit stared at Susan for a moment. It was very rare that he ever said anything that vaguely made sense.
“Right,� said the man in the suit. “Where’s Aptyp? We’ve got things to discuss here.�
“Ah, sir,� said the nurse, “it’s Tuesday.�
“And?� said the man in the suit.
“Mr. Aptyp gets drunk on Mondays,� explained the nurse.
“Aptyp gets drunk every damn day!� said the man in the suit. “He doesn’t do anything else! He’ll have to learn to be on time in spite of his massive hangovers.�
“God damn it,� said a voice from the corridor, “will you just shut the fuck up?� Aptyp staggered into the room with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He sat with a groan. He was wearing a rainbow wig and was handcuffed to an inflatable raft.
“Uh,� said Atoga, “where’d you even get all that? We haven’t left this place since we got here.�
Aptyp glared at Atoga with murderous eyes. Atoga’s resumption of his twenty four a day joint habit (his rationale was that it was 4:20 at least that many times per day) had mellowed his hate of Aptyp and Susan, but the Russian, no longer skinny but bulky with muscles since his training with the suit’s men had begun, was the angry sort of drunk and he only hated the overmellowed hippie leftover all the more because of his unbelievable hangover.
“Well, I don’t fucking know,� growled Aptyp. “I can’t remember a single fucking thing about what happened since lunchtime yesterday.�
“You’re going to have to stop taking twelve shots of whiskey with your lunch, you know,� said the man in the suit.
Aptyp glowered at the man in the suit but was interrupted by Susan, who said, “Finns think they're over the law.�
All three were silenced by this. Atoga saw Aptyp’s lips silently mouthing the words Susan had just inexplicably said before closing his eyes and furrowing his brow in anguish. Susan’s complete nonsense was punishing on people in the best of conditions, but in Aptyp’s pounding head, it was much more painful.
“Well,� said the man in the suit, “yes. Okay.� He paused to gather his thoughts. “I asked you all here because I think you’re ready.�
There was a silence. Atoga raised his hand. “Uhm, for what?�
“For several months now,� continued the man in the suit, “we’ve been working with you, helping you to control yourselves, to manage your weaknesses and to properly use your powers. Atoga, you’re a doped up hippie who can empathically transmit inebriation to others. Aptyp, you’re an angry Russian drunk who is completely unstoppable in hand to hand combat when properly fuelled with alcohol. And Susan… Susan is a window into that most terrifying place in all of our souls, that dark facet of human nature none of us want to own up to.�
“What about amputation and burning?� said the supposed window. Aptyp flinched.
The man in the suit rubbed his temples. “The point is that you can use these powers, these abilities, to do good. To fight for justice and truth. To be champions of freedom and hope. To be… Magnificent. And that will be your new name. Atoga, Aptyp, Susan, you are now the Magnificents.�
Trumpets blared.
“Well, cool and all, right,� said Atoga, “but I want to know: just who are you, anyways? We’ve been here for months and we don’t know who you are.�
The man in the suit pursed his lips. “Yes. It’s time for that, as well. I’ve had a great many names over the years, and I’ve used them in a great many places. You three, though, can call me Pooperscooper.�
The trumpets fired up again.
“Pooper…� muttered Aptyp. “Of the New York tunnel incident?� he asked.
“That’s right. After I saved all those people, I decided to devote myself to a higher ideal of selflessness and heroism. I traveled throughout the world, looking for people who shared my ideals.� Pooperscooper’s head hung low. “I found nobody. Nobody who understood as I did the importance of it all. What I did find was injustice, cruelty and outright evil at every turn. I resolved to try something else. I would seek out the most wretched, the most pathetic, the weakest among the people I sought to protect and I would make them into heroes. Symbols that the honest people could rally behind. Legends who would embody ideals and lead the world into an age of peace and prosperity. I would make them Magnificent.�
Aptyp took a swig of his whiskey and muttered something obscene in Russian. Atoga finished off his joint in a long drag and squeaked out “Great, man, but where do we start? I mean, we can’t go beating up muggers and there’s no supervillains around or anything so��
A huge explosion rocked the room, leaving a gaping hole in the wall. A handsome man draped in a long velvet cloak, coiffed with a top hat and wearing a monocle floated into the conference chamber.
“No supervillains, you say?� chuckled the dapper figure. “Something of a presumptuous proclamation, no?�
Pooperscooper pointed at the floating man. “You! I… I killed you!�
“Oho!� said the cloaked man. “Dead, am I? Yes, that mistake has been made before. I rather expected better from you, mind. Rather disappointing, I should think. But I tender my heartfelt apologies to those of you who are just joining us! Allow me to make introductions. My name is Blargh, and I am unstoppable. That, of course, is Pooperscooper, an amusing little man with some high ideas that simply will not mesh at all with my plans. Oho. I’m afraid, to put it somewhat stylistically, that all of your candles will have to be extinguished.�
Everyone froze as Blargh cackled theatrically. From the back of the room, Susan said, “There are no congoids in the ghettos of Canada, they can't survive the cold without their gorilla fur.�
Atoga found himself again in the same room. The walls, fortunately, were no longer white. In the months since he had first arrived in this place, he had been allowed to decorate the room as he saw fit. Now, the walls were adorned with a gaudy psychedelic pattern peeking through between faded posters promoting LSD fueled bands. Next to the bed, on the table, an ashtray was overflowing with half smoked joints. Another joint, lit, was hanging from the corner of Atoga’s mouth as he threw paint at a canvas with a small catapult.
Atoga fired a glob of red at his latest painting and then stopped to consider the piece of art he was actively creating. He was sure it meant something. The art critics would surely figure it out for him. They were very helpful like that.
He took a long drag on his joint and savoured the rich and tasty marijuana. He had forgotten how delightful a good doobie could be. He had wrecked himself on cocaine and heroin and other, worse concoctions to the point that he barely felt the highs anymore. In the last few months, though, the man in the suit and his medical staff had helped him.
They had removed his addictions, yes, and that was already a lot, but that was only the beginning of what they’d done for (to?) him. He puffed on the joint again. Long sessions of hypnosis had delved deep into his mind, seeking some potential within to be awakened. He saw a fly buzz into the room through the window, which now opened. He focused his thoughts and reached out to the fly with his mind. The insect buzzed with frenetic activity for a moment before slowing down and mellowing. It lazily drifted to a stop on the window’s ledge and then seemed to become totally still, with every muscle in its body totally relaxed. In his mind, Atoga felt the fly’s tiny mind express its general contentment and amazement at the size of its forelegs.
Atoga smiled and puffed hard on his joint. He was able to share his constant state of total highness with any living mind. There were few who could resist the relaxing, intoxicating effect of his empathic drug power.
Atoga glanced at the clock on his wall. It seemed to be melting. He blinked a couple of times and the clock resumed its proper solid state. He saw that it was Time. He released the fly from his power and shooed it out the window before leaving his room for the conference chamber.
When he arrived, he found Susan and the man in the suit waiting for him, as well as the usual nurse. Atoga glanced hatefully at Susan, who idly floated in the hoverchair specially designed to support his immense weight. Their gazes met. Susan instantly deployed his fearsome grimace, which had been rendered even deadlier by the man in the coat’s careful conditioning. Atoga retaliated by sending Susan a magic mushroom trip where he found himself in a canoe on the sun. He wasn’t able to send the full effect to Susan because he was distracted by the horror of the corpulent teenager’s face, but he was satisfied to see beads of sweat forming on Susan’s enormous forehead.
“Knock it off,� said the man in the suit, “both of you.�
Atoga exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Relax, man, it’s all cool.�
“Is it why it's yellow?� said Susan. Atoga and the man in the suit stared at Susan for a moment. It was very rare that he ever said anything that vaguely made sense.
“Right,� said the man in the suit. “Where’s Aptyp? We’ve got things to discuss here.�
“Ah, sir,� said the nurse, “it’s Tuesday.�
“And?� said the man in the suit.
“Mr. Aptyp gets drunk on Mondays,� explained the nurse.
“Aptyp gets drunk every damn day!� said the man in the suit. “He doesn’t do anything else! He’ll have to learn to be on time in spite of his massive hangovers.�
“God damn it,� said a voice from the corridor, “will you just shut the fuck up?� Aptyp staggered into the room with a bottle of whiskey in his hand. He sat with a groan. He was wearing a rainbow wig and was handcuffed to an inflatable raft.
“Uh,� said Atoga, “where’d you even get all that? We haven’t left this place since we got here.�
Aptyp glared at Atoga with murderous eyes. Atoga’s resumption of his twenty four a day joint habit (his rationale was that it was 4:20 at least that many times per day) had mellowed his hate of Aptyp and Susan, but the Russian, no longer skinny but bulky with muscles since his training with the suit’s men had begun, was the angry sort of drunk and he only hated the overmellowed hippie leftover all the more because of his unbelievable hangover.
“Well, I don’t fucking know,� growled Aptyp. “I can’t remember a single fucking thing about what happened since lunchtime yesterday.�
“You’re going to have to stop taking twelve shots of whiskey with your lunch, you know,� said the man in the suit.
Aptyp glowered at the man in the suit but was interrupted by Susan, who said, “Finns think they're over the law.�
All three were silenced by this. Atoga saw Aptyp’s lips silently mouthing the words Susan had just inexplicably said before closing his eyes and furrowing his brow in anguish. Susan’s complete nonsense was punishing on people in the best of conditions, but in Aptyp’s pounding head, it was much more painful.
“Well,� said the man in the suit, “yes. Okay.� He paused to gather his thoughts. “I asked you all here because I think you’re ready.�
There was a silence. Atoga raised his hand. “Uhm, for what?�
“For several months now,� continued the man in the suit, “we’ve been working with you, helping you to control yourselves, to manage your weaknesses and to properly use your powers. Atoga, you’re a doped up hippie who can empathically transmit inebriation to others. Aptyp, you’re an angry Russian drunk who is completely unstoppable in hand to hand combat when properly fuelled with alcohol. And Susan… Susan is a window into that most terrifying place in all of our souls, that dark facet of human nature none of us want to own up to.�
“What about amputation and burning?� said the supposed window. Aptyp flinched.
The man in the suit rubbed his temples. “The point is that you can use these powers, these abilities, to do good. To fight for justice and truth. To be champions of freedom and hope. To be… Magnificent. And that will be your new name. Atoga, Aptyp, Susan, you are now the Magnificents.�
Trumpets blared.
“Well, cool and all, right,� said Atoga, “but I want to know: just who are you, anyways? We’ve been here for months and we don’t know who you are.�
The man in the suit pursed his lips. “Yes. It’s time for that, as well. I’ve had a great many names over the years, and I’ve used them in a great many places. You three, though, can call me Pooperscooper.�
The trumpets fired up again.
“Pooper…� muttered Aptyp. “Of the New York tunnel incident?� he asked.
“That’s right. After I saved all those people, I decided to devote myself to a higher ideal of selflessness and heroism. I traveled throughout the world, looking for people who shared my ideals.� Pooperscooper’s head hung low. “I found nobody. Nobody who understood as I did the importance of it all. What I did find was injustice, cruelty and outright evil at every turn. I resolved to try something else. I would seek out the most wretched, the most pathetic, the weakest among the people I sought to protect and I would make them into heroes. Symbols that the honest people could rally behind. Legends who would embody ideals and lead the world into an age of peace and prosperity. I would make them Magnificent.�
Aptyp took a swig of his whiskey and muttered something obscene in Russian. Atoga finished off his joint in a long drag and squeaked out “Great, man, but where do we start? I mean, we can’t go beating up muggers and there’s no supervillains around or anything so��
A huge explosion rocked the room, leaving a gaping hole in the wall. A handsome man draped in a long velvet cloak, coiffed with a top hat and wearing a monocle floated into the conference chamber.
“No supervillains, you say?� chuckled the dapper figure. “Something of a presumptuous proclamation, no?�
Pooperscooper pointed at the floating man. “You! I… I killed you!�
“Oho!� said the cloaked man. “Dead, am I? Yes, that mistake has been made before. I rather expected better from you, mind. Rather disappointing, I should think. But I tender my heartfelt apologies to those of you who are just joining us! Allow me to make introductions. My name is Blargh, and I am unstoppable. That, of course, is Pooperscooper, an amusing little man with some high ideas that simply will not mesh at all with my plans. Oho. I’m afraid, to put it somewhat stylistically, that all of your candles will have to be extinguished.�
Everyone froze as Blargh cackled theatrically. From the back of the room, Susan said, “There are no congoids in the ghettos of Canada, they can't survive the cold without their gorilla fur.�
That was, indescribable. Except not. Monocle is appropriate, given that Blargh is virtually blind in one eye. While I find that there are likely many possible explanations, I must, nonetheless, ask : Why and more importantly, how, is Blargh floating, exactly ?
Continue. Do.
Continue. Do.
Something tells me that you and D5it-m38 would be a perfect match ?ApTyp wrote:Do I at least save the world and get the girl in the end?
-
Spazmo
- Haha you're still not there yet
- Posts: 3590
- Joined: Wed Jun 12, 2002 4:17 am
- Location: Monkey Island
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Well, honestly, I don't know. The whole idea is that DAC forum members turn to superheroes and whatever, but I really have no idea what powers to give you. Flight is a no brainer, but then what? Monocle attack? Razor edged top hat? I dunno.Blargh wrote:Why and more importantly, how, is Blargh floating, exactly ?
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Spazmo
- Haha you're still not there yet
- Posts: 3590
- Joined: Wed Jun 12, 2002 4:17 am
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Part 4: Conclusion and disappointments.
“Oho,� said Blargh, still floating in the air. “Yes. Presently, I will murder you.�
Atoga looked around the room. The nurse had disappeared in the rubble. Aptyp was chugging his whiskey bottle and thrashing in the chains that attached him to the inflatable raft. Susan was apparently doing nothing. Atoga would have said he was thinking, but that seemed unlikely. Pooperscooper was standing still and staring at Blargh, apparently stunned by the reappearance of his nemesis.
Atoga looked at Blargh again. “Oh yes,� he said. “Yes, your deaths can certainly be expected to occur, perhaps in the vague proximity of the immediate moment. Yes.�
Atoga weighed his options and decided it would be best to hide under the table. Once there, he put his fingers in his ears, closed his eyes and waited.
A few minutes later, nothing had happened. Atoga peeked out from under the table. Aptyp had finished draining his bottle and was now savaging the inflatable raft. Susan had hovered slightly closer to the center of the room. When he saw Atoga, Susan said, “My hair are long and curly.� Pooperscooper was still staring at Blargh, but was now thoughtfully stroking his chin.
“Do not be discouraged by this unfortunate delay, dear friends!� said Blargh. “Your obliteration is no less certain for its lack of timeliness. Oho.�
There was a silence. Atoga scratched his head. “Uh, listen, buddy, just for my own curiosity,� asked Atoga, “what exactly are you going to do to us? I mean, if you’re a supervillain like you say, what’s your actual power, right?�
“Ehue. You’d like to be made aware of the specific nature of my splendor? Of my mastery? Of my utter superiority? Well, I can’t imagine why I shouldn’t enlighten you!� exclaimed Blargh with eagerness. “Oho. Poor little man. You see, there are those in this world who can be said, laughingly, mind you, to be elderly. These sort of old persons can barely remember the beginnings of the last century, if they’re exceptionally (and I use the term so terribly loosely here) old. And there are, of course, some who are somewhat older. Those who have been around for a fair bit longer. Those who remember, yes, the last century, and the one before it, and all the ones before that, but even back to the very first century. I am among those persons.�
“So, basically, you’re really old?� asked Atoga.
“Oho. Older than you can possibly imagine! Older than the moon. Older than the star that gave this world life. Older than the first atoms of��
“Right, right, yeah, I got it,� said Atoga. “You’re quite old. I understood that part. But, I mean, what can you actually do?�
“Insolent child!� said Blargh. “You question the capacities and abilities of one such as me? One who signed the Magna Carta, one who erased all the dinosaurs from the cave men’s paintings, one who��
“Hang on,� said Pooperscooper. “You can’t actually do anything, can you?�
There was a silence.
“I can fly,� said Blargh.
“No, you can’t,� said Atoga. “You’re hanging off a cable. There’s a crane outside!�
Blargh swung his body around to look at the large, yellow crane arm from which he was suspended. “Well. Yes, perhaps there is a crane there, or perhaps I’ve just planted that suggestion in your feeble, oh so malleable mortal mind?� Blargh smiled contentedly.
Pooperscooper looked out of the gaping hole in the wall. “No,� he said, “that looks pretty much like a crane to me. I’ve been around a lot of them.�
Aptyp smashed his empty bottle on the table and swung the broken half he held on to menacingly at Blargh. “You fucking suck, asscock!� yelled the drunken Russian. “What the hell were you going to kill us with, your fucking thesaurus?�
“Mmm. Well. I was rather hoping something conveniently lethal would just pop up that I could kill you with.� Blargh’s gaze traveled across the room. “I don’t suppose I could borrow that broken bottle, could I?�
“No,� said Aptyp. “I’m going to stab you with it.�
“Ah.� In the back of the room, Susan rumbled. Everyone turned and he said, “My house was built in 1927.� Then his face melted into his horrific frown, the grimace that shattered souls. Atoga looked away just in time to avoid looking at it, as did Pooperscooper and Aptyp. Blargh, however, was unaccustomed to the horrors of Susan and took it full blast. Atoga heard him screaming. He turned to look at Blargh and saw that he was bleeding from his eyes and ears.
“You fucking brute!� wailed Blargh. “What the fuck was that? What the fuck were you even talking about? Aargh!�
“Oh, fuck this load of fucking bullshit,� said Aptyp. He then let out a drunken berserker yell, vomited on himself a bit and swung the inflatable raft attached to his wrist at Blargh, who took the outboard engine of the small watercraft in the chest. The impact set him oscillating back and forth on the cable; sometimes well within the conference chamber, sometimes dangling far above the distant pavement.
Following the momentum of his throw, Aptyp immediately leapt towards Blargh with his broken bottle in hand. He stabbed through the cable Blargh was suspended on, sending Blargh plummeting down fifty stories. They heard Blargh yell “ehueeeeeeeeeeee!� as he fell before he splattered on the pavement.
Aptyp bit through the chains attaching the boat to his wrist and then threw it out the hole in the wall. He leaned out of the hole to watch the inflatable raft fall onto Blargh’s liquefied remains. Then, he threw the bottle down after it. Finally, he turned around.
“This is fucking bullshit,� he told everyone. “I’m going to go get drunk and then get a huge tattoo. You can all get fucked and if you ever call me again I’ll fucking kill you.�
Aptyp stormed out of the room while muttering in Russian.
“I think it's the equivalent of, at most, one, or most probably, an half; he's Asian,� said Susan. Atoga turned around to look at the horror in the hoverchair. Susan floated over to the gaping hole in the wall. “They have tapes in the ghetto?� he said, and then moved his hoverchair out into empty space. He flipped a switch on the arm of his chair and turned a dial as far as it would go. Gravity suddenly reasserted itself, bolstered by the inversion of the chair’s own gravity field. Susan fell, bursting into flame halfway down from air friction. When he impacted, he left a large crater in the shape of his horrific frown.
Atoga was now alone with Pooperscooper. “Well, uh, listen, man,� said Atoga. “This has been real fun and stuff, but since the other two guys are gone and since our nemesis guy was pretty much shit, I’m gonna bail. See you later.� Atoga wandered away.
Pooperscooper was alone now. He sighed. “That,� he said to himself, “kind of sucked.�
***
EPILOGUE
Atoga returned to his hometown of Toronto where he continued to smoke like a chimney. He planned to rent a loft in a trendy part of town and sell his paintings to make a living. He ended up getting married to an ugly girl he met in a bar and impregnated and worked a nine to five job in an investments firm.
Aptyp had quietly stolen everyone’s wallets before leaving and quickly spent the money on booze. He opened a microbrewery in his parents’ garage that failed after two years and spent the rest of his life drinking himself into oblivion in between incredibly depressing programming jobs.
Pooperscooper spent the rest of his life looking for another group of people who could help him save the world. He started another group, the Insufferables, before he realized that instead of a team of superheroes, he had founded a jazz fusion band. The Insufferables released five albums between 2008 and 2017.
Blargh died.
Susan’s mortal form was destroyed when he inexplicably threw himself off a building. Something of him has been said to have survived, some spiritual aspect of his person that inspires those people who never shut the fuck up to this very day. This is a lie.
***
And I solemnly swear never to write this crap again. I'm going back to erotic PALS fanfiction.
“Oho,� said Blargh, still floating in the air. “Yes. Presently, I will murder you.�
Atoga looked around the room. The nurse had disappeared in the rubble. Aptyp was chugging his whiskey bottle and thrashing in the chains that attached him to the inflatable raft. Susan was apparently doing nothing. Atoga would have said he was thinking, but that seemed unlikely. Pooperscooper was standing still and staring at Blargh, apparently stunned by the reappearance of his nemesis.
Atoga looked at Blargh again. “Oh yes,� he said. “Yes, your deaths can certainly be expected to occur, perhaps in the vague proximity of the immediate moment. Yes.�
Atoga weighed his options and decided it would be best to hide under the table. Once there, he put his fingers in his ears, closed his eyes and waited.
A few minutes later, nothing had happened. Atoga peeked out from under the table. Aptyp had finished draining his bottle and was now savaging the inflatable raft. Susan had hovered slightly closer to the center of the room. When he saw Atoga, Susan said, “My hair are long and curly.� Pooperscooper was still staring at Blargh, but was now thoughtfully stroking his chin.
“Do not be discouraged by this unfortunate delay, dear friends!� said Blargh. “Your obliteration is no less certain for its lack of timeliness. Oho.�
There was a silence. Atoga scratched his head. “Uh, listen, buddy, just for my own curiosity,� asked Atoga, “what exactly are you going to do to us? I mean, if you’re a supervillain like you say, what’s your actual power, right?�
“Ehue. You’d like to be made aware of the specific nature of my splendor? Of my mastery? Of my utter superiority? Well, I can’t imagine why I shouldn’t enlighten you!� exclaimed Blargh with eagerness. “Oho. Poor little man. You see, there are those in this world who can be said, laughingly, mind you, to be elderly. These sort of old persons can barely remember the beginnings of the last century, if they’re exceptionally (and I use the term so terribly loosely here) old. And there are, of course, some who are somewhat older. Those who have been around for a fair bit longer. Those who remember, yes, the last century, and the one before it, and all the ones before that, but even back to the very first century. I am among those persons.�
“So, basically, you’re really old?� asked Atoga.
“Oho. Older than you can possibly imagine! Older than the moon. Older than the star that gave this world life. Older than the first atoms of��
“Right, right, yeah, I got it,� said Atoga. “You’re quite old. I understood that part. But, I mean, what can you actually do?�
“Insolent child!� said Blargh. “You question the capacities and abilities of one such as me? One who signed the Magna Carta, one who erased all the dinosaurs from the cave men’s paintings, one who��
“Hang on,� said Pooperscooper. “You can’t actually do anything, can you?�
There was a silence.
“I can fly,� said Blargh.
“No, you can’t,� said Atoga. “You’re hanging off a cable. There’s a crane outside!�
Blargh swung his body around to look at the large, yellow crane arm from which he was suspended. “Well. Yes, perhaps there is a crane there, or perhaps I’ve just planted that suggestion in your feeble, oh so malleable mortal mind?� Blargh smiled contentedly.
Pooperscooper looked out of the gaping hole in the wall. “No,� he said, “that looks pretty much like a crane to me. I’ve been around a lot of them.�
Aptyp smashed his empty bottle on the table and swung the broken half he held on to menacingly at Blargh. “You fucking suck, asscock!� yelled the drunken Russian. “What the hell were you going to kill us with, your fucking thesaurus?�
“Mmm. Well. I was rather hoping something conveniently lethal would just pop up that I could kill you with.� Blargh’s gaze traveled across the room. “I don’t suppose I could borrow that broken bottle, could I?�
“No,� said Aptyp. “I’m going to stab you with it.�
“Ah.� In the back of the room, Susan rumbled. Everyone turned and he said, “My house was built in 1927.� Then his face melted into his horrific frown, the grimace that shattered souls. Atoga looked away just in time to avoid looking at it, as did Pooperscooper and Aptyp. Blargh, however, was unaccustomed to the horrors of Susan and took it full blast. Atoga heard him screaming. He turned to look at Blargh and saw that he was bleeding from his eyes and ears.
“You fucking brute!� wailed Blargh. “What the fuck was that? What the fuck were you even talking about? Aargh!�
“Oh, fuck this load of fucking bullshit,� said Aptyp. He then let out a drunken berserker yell, vomited on himself a bit and swung the inflatable raft attached to his wrist at Blargh, who took the outboard engine of the small watercraft in the chest. The impact set him oscillating back and forth on the cable; sometimes well within the conference chamber, sometimes dangling far above the distant pavement.
Following the momentum of his throw, Aptyp immediately leapt towards Blargh with his broken bottle in hand. He stabbed through the cable Blargh was suspended on, sending Blargh plummeting down fifty stories. They heard Blargh yell “ehueeeeeeeeeeee!� as he fell before he splattered on the pavement.
Aptyp bit through the chains attaching the boat to his wrist and then threw it out the hole in the wall. He leaned out of the hole to watch the inflatable raft fall onto Blargh’s liquefied remains. Then, he threw the bottle down after it. Finally, he turned around.
“This is fucking bullshit,� he told everyone. “I’m going to go get drunk and then get a huge tattoo. You can all get fucked and if you ever call me again I’ll fucking kill you.�
Aptyp stormed out of the room while muttering in Russian.
“I think it's the equivalent of, at most, one, or most probably, an half; he's Asian,� said Susan. Atoga turned around to look at the horror in the hoverchair. Susan floated over to the gaping hole in the wall. “They have tapes in the ghetto?� he said, and then moved his hoverchair out into empty space. He flipped a switch on the arm of his chair and turned a dial as far as it would go. Gravity suddenly reasserted itself, bolstered by the inversion of the chair’s own gravity field. Susan fell, bursting into flame halfway down from air friction. When he impacted, he left a large crater in the shape of his horrific frown.
Atoga was now alone with Pooperscooper. “Well, uh, listen, man,� said Atoga. “This has been real fun and stuff, but since the other two guys are gone and since our nemesis guy was pretty much shit, I’m gonna bail. See you later.� Atoga wandered away.
Pooperscooper was alone now. He sighed. “That,� he said to himself, “kind of sucked.�
***
EPILOGUE
Atoga returned to his hometown of Toronto where he continued to smoke like a chimney. He planned to rent a loft in a trendy part of town and sell his paintings to make a living. He ended up getting married to an ugly girl he met in a bar and impregnated and worked a nine to five job in an investments firm.
Aptyp had quietly stolen everyone’s wallets before leaving and quickly spent the money on booze. He opened a microbrewery in his parents’ garage that failed after two years and spent the rest of his life drinking himself into oblivion in between incredibly depressing programming jobs.
Pooperscooper spent the rest of his life looking for another group of people who could help him save the world. He started another group, the Insufferables, before he realized that instead of a team of superheroes, he had founded a jazz fusion band. The Insufferables released five albums between 2008 and 2017.
Blargh died.
Susan’s mortal form was destroyed when he inexplicably threw himself off a building. Something of him has been said to have survived, some spiritual aspect of his person that inspires those people who never shut the fuck up to this very day. This is a lie.
***
And I solemnly swear never to write this crap again. I'm going back to erotic PALS fanfiction.
I was excepting much worse, Spazmo.
'Oh, Blargh ? He's pretty much antediluvian and there's talk that he's got clout with certain construction companies. Best not piss him off, right ?'
Clearly that was a clone. A ruse. Cliché, but certainly keeping with the theme. A being with only immortality on the C.V wouldn't confront anything more threatening than a cup of coffee directly.
Your mercy disappoints me, and yet, thank the Gods you've stopped.
'Oh, Blargh ? He's pretty much antediluvian and there's talk that he's got clout with certain construction companies. Best not piss him off, right ?'
Clearly that was a clone. A ruse. Cliché, but certainly keeping with the theme. A being with only immortality on the C.V wouldn't confront anything more threatening than a cup of coffee directly.
Your mercy disappoints me, and yet, thank the Gods you've stopped.
