Revenge of the Power-Crazed Mods Part LXI
(A play)
Big thanks to Nacho4Sara for the great title!
Setting: The Scottish Highlands, on a windswept hill, two EVIL admins, Lynn and Tuba are meeting. A computer is set up on a three-legged bar-stool.
Tuba: When shall we two meet again?
Lynn: When some poor schmuck is banned, I claim!
Tuba: Y’know, I hate everyone here. Even you.
Lynn: You’re not such hot pork-chops yourself. Let’s ban someone.
Tuba: You always want to ban someone. What else is there to do?
Lynn: I dunno. What do you want to do?
Tuba: I dunno. What do you want to do?
Lynn: We could ban someone.
Tuba: Oh for the love of…fine. Who do you wanna ban?
Lynn: We could pick a name…
Tuba: We always randomly pick names.
Coldfire and Uncle Beer, two low-level minions of EVIL, both filled with hate, enter, stage right
Coldie: Whatcha dooin’?
Uncle Beer: They’re banning someone, stoopid! That’s what they do!
Coldie: I knew that, butthead. I meant who were they banning?
Uncle Beer: Then why di’n’tya say so?
*Coldie pokes Uncle Beer in the eyes, Three Stooges style. Uncle Beer grabs Coldie’s nose between the index and middle fingers of his left hand and smacks his left hand with his right, yanking Coldie’s nose. A scuffle breaks out.>
Tuba gestures and suddenly there’s a tremendous explosion. Coldfire and Uncle Beer are shaken. They seperate.*
Lynn: Enough! We need to decide who to ban. And
she glares at Tuba
Lynn: we can’t just pick someone at random. SOMEone doesn’t want us to.
Coldie: How 'bout Esprix?
Tuba: Too popular. And he’s a member of the Clique, so he’s exempt.
Lynn: What about Scylla?
Tuba: Too unpredictable. Who knows what he’d do? We might find our networks infested with killer Nazi groundhogs riding motorcycles while juggling a chainsaw. Besides…he’s a member of the Clique too.
Uncle Beer: SPOOFE! That bastard! Let’s ban him!
Tuba: Clique again, plus you saw what he did to his bo Diddly…you wanna chance him doing that to you?
Uncle Beer <shudders at the memory>: Never mind! Polycarp?
Tuba: No…too well liked and besides…he’d probably forgive us for doing it. Besides…apparently he’s a saint. I don’t know if our powers of e-vil work on him any more.
Coldie: JarBabyJ?
Tuba: No, Clique again, and do you want her to curse us back?
Uncle Beer: Gobear?
Tuba: Too tough. He could beat us up.
Coldie: Anthracite?
Tuba: Too smart and she knows too much about how the Board works.
An evil grin appears on Lynn’s face
Lynn: I’ve got it. It’s perfect!
Tuba: <eagerly>: Who!?
Lynn: That jerk Fenris! He’s always giving our secrets away and he’s not an official member of the Clique!
Coldie: He’s not?
Lynn: No! That’s the beauty of it! He revealed their secrets once and now they won’t let him in!
Tuba: <cackles> It’s perfect. Let’s do this thing!
Much rushing about as implements are gathered. A glowing green rock, a Davy Crockett coonskin cap, a yo-yo, something nasty from under Coldfire’ bed, a foreskin from the Jack Dean Tyler memorial collection, one of the hamsters that died during the last board slowdown, etc. are all thrown into the pot. Tuba hushes everyone as she prepares the Incantation of Banning
Tuba: HEY, HEY! HO! HO! Poster Fenris has got to go!
Everyone: HEY, HEY! HO! HO! Poster Fenris has got to go!
*Lynn raises her hands high as she makes the final mystic gesture and says the final word of
banishmen…
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