jarbabyj Psst. Another anachronism. Rammstein is playing the Dopefest
And that’s why this is the greatest role I’ll ever have.
CUT TO: A dark, dirty street, littered with handbills proclaiming GIRL GIRLS GIRLS and TOTALLY NUDE. . Arnold and TubaDiva seen coming out of a building with a huge, flashing neon sign in front proclaiming : Horny Brass!!! No, it’s not one of “those” kind of theaters, about generals in the Army and their nubile young “secretaries.” God you have a one track mind. Sicko. “Horny Brass” is a music shop, in case you care to know. It’s not the owner’s fault that he had to locate in this part of the neighborhood, but it was all he could afford. TubaDiva is carrying her beloved Tuba, which she had brought to the store for a good cleaning and tuning. Arnold is carrying a Swiss Alphorn that he had just purchased.
TubaDiva
Would you like me better if I were a nun?
Arnold
It depends. Do you have a donkey and 8 pairs of pants?
TubaDiva
Oh you silly man.
They resume walking, passing a newsstand. Suddenly TubaDiva gets a look of fear on her face, but Arnold keeps walking, not seeing the evening paper.
TubaDiva
Arnold…Arnold?
Arnold walks back to TubaDiva, and sees the evening headline: SKITTLES ARE BETTER THAN M & M’S, and looks at TubaDiva questioningly. TubaDiva smacks him on the head and points to the other paper. The greatest newspaper ever written and released on Thursdays. The one, the only: CHICAGO READER. Arnold grabs the Reader, and immediately opens to the Savage Love column.
TubaDiva
Not that… On the front page, Look!
Arnold flips the paper back and there on the front page is a picture of a very concerned Ed Zotti, with the caption: Ed Zotti concerned that Coldfire may have developed a sense of humor. “It’s unheard of,” said Zotti, “Nobody knows how this happened!”
Arnold
They don’t say whether Coldfire is insane or not?
TubaDiva and Arnold run across the street, which is not easy carrying a tuba and an alphone. Thank god they are both in reasonably good shape. I’d like to see you run across a crowded, busy street carrying a tuba. Come on smartguy. Yeah, that’s what I thought. Arnold grabs the phone and dials quickly.
Arnold (into the phone)
David B?. – Arnold.
David B.'S VOICE (over the phone)
Arnold, where you been?
Arnold (into the phone)
That doesn’t matter right now. What is up with Coldfire.
David B.'S VOICE (over the phone)
We don’t know yet. About 5 hours ago, Coldfire’s posts began to be, how do I say this, funny? Then he opened a bunch of locked threads, and created a Search All function. It’s bad, Arnie, really bad. He hasn’t condescended to a person in almost 30 posts. He hasn’t told anyone that they have to be more creative and then leave the thread. We’re all really worried. Have you been to the Boards?
Arnold (into the phone)
Not for a while, but I told manhattan that I was taking a break for a few hours, didn’t he tell you?
David B.'S VOICE (over the phone)
No, we haven’t heard from manhattan either. Look, kid, you and Tuba get online right now. . You should be on the Boards.
There is a click on the line
David B.
That’s my call waiting, I’ll see you online.(switching to the other line) Who is this?
Gaudere
It’s Gaudere. Look, David, there’s more news about your old man. The word is out on the street (not the street that hamlet lives on. You know… THE STREET. The one that THEY live on.) Is that Coldfire’s funny.
David B.
Watch your mouth – what’s the matter with you?
Gaudere
For Cecil’s sake, David, take it easy – take it easy
David B.
Where was Poofy?
Gaudere
Poofy was out sick.
David B.
Sick my ass, get Poofy up here right now, I don’t care how “sick” he is, get him here. Darn, there’s my call waiting again.(Clicking over). Hello?
An Unknown Voice
Well, not really unknown. I know who it is, but in the interests of building suspense and creating a mystery, I’m not gonna tell you. And if you don’t know, I’m not gonna tell you either, so there.
David B.?
David B.
Yeah…
Unknown Voice
We have manhattan offline. In about three hours he’ll be allowed back on the boards, with our proposition – Listen to everything he has to say before you do anything. Well, not everything, because he can go on and on and on. Contrary to what you would think looking at his quick posts, he’s a real talker. Just remember, what’s done is done. And don’t lose that famous temper of yours, huh David B.?
CUT TO: Manhattan’s home/office. I’d describe it but I’ve already upset a few mod…fine, three words: Ummmm. Phalanx, Juxtaposition, and Quetzal. No, they have nothing to do with Manhattan’s place, I just like the words. Manhattan is staring at an empty computer screen, wondering why he can’t get on. Finally, the screen opens to his email account, where there is an instant message from a sender called InsertMysteriousNameHere The email reads as follows:
***Manhattan,
Coldfire is finished. I know you’re not in the muscle-end of the family, manhattan, so I don’t want you to be scared. I want you to help the Boards, and I want you to help me. It’s time we made peace on the Boards. You gotta talk with the other mods and make them see the truth. There are numerous powerful posters behind me. Other newbies will go along with anything that will prevent a full-scale shutdown of the boards. Let’s face it, Manhattan, and all due respect, Coldfire was – slippin’. Two years ago could I have gotten to him? No way. He’s making a trip to California to see some friends, does that sound like the Coldfire you know? So you gotta talk to David B., you gotta talk to Gaudere, UncleBeer, Corrado, and the others.* **
Manhattan types back:
***I’ll try, but even David B. won’t be able to call off TVeblen. ***
InsertMysteriousNameHere
Yeah, well, let me worry about TVeblen
You just talk to the mods.
Wait, wait, I know. Is the mystery person Sister Angelica? That would be mysterious.
Dammit Witch, you’re giving away the surprise ending. Now you must pay
CUT TO: The Witch, walking down a street. Suddenly a 16 ton anvil falls on her head. Pan up the building to MOTHER Angelica on top of the building, smiling evilly.
CUT TO: The Moderator’s office. I’ve described it before, so just page up and reread, in case you forgot. The only changes are that there are a different set of squirrels, gerbils, and hamsters in the cage. Oh, Yeah, and the 12 year old scotch and cigars have mysteriously disappeared. In the furniture sit David B., manhattan, Arnold, Gaudere, and UncleBeer… They are drinking scotch and smoking cigars (so THAT’s where they went.).
David B
Whattaya think, Gaudere?
Gaudere
There’s a lot of bad blood. Hamlet, Milossarian (Dammit I told you to leave me out of this!), and the others we don’t know about.
Arnold
Can you ban all those guys, Gaudere?
David B.
Hey Arnold, stay out of it. You got out of the moderator business for a while. Remember, instead of selflessly helping maintain the SDMB, giving your extra time and genius, you decided to do “other work.” Work that actually paid. It made you a tidy little profit didn’t it, when you invented the program that currently runs NASA.
manhattan (interrupting)
Hamlet’s the key. You get rid of him, everyone else falls back into line. No more flames in the pit about us Moderators.
I’m more concerned about Tveblen, the mysteriously named guy didn’t seem even fazed by HER!!!.
David B.
No way, Veb would never go over to his side. If she did, we’d be in a lot of trouble, believe me. A lot of trouble.
UncleBeer(who, for the first time has stopped staring at Gaudere and drooling.)
Has anyone been able to get in touch with TVEblen?
Gaudere
I’ve Instant Messaged, e-mailed, and called all night. She might be stuck in, God Forbid, REAL LIFE!.
David B.
Well, manhattan, what do we do if, God Forbid, Coldfire has lost his mind.
manhattan
If we lose the old Dane – we lose a big part of the Boards and half our strength. The other posters might wind up supporting Hamlet. This isn’t Melingate; nobody want trouble on the Boards. If we can’t get Coldfire back, then make Hamlet a mod…
David B.
That’s easy for you to say, manhattan.
manhattan
You’re right. I just expelled some breath, moved my voice box, tongue and lips. It was relatively easy, David, I’ve been doing it for quite a while now.
The tension is broken by a knock on the door. UncleBeer goes to the door, but nobody is there. But there is a package. UncleBeer picks up the package, and takes it to David B. The tension is no longer broken. It’s really tense. You could cut the tension with a knife, which is a saying I never really understood, because you can cut most things with a knife. Shouldn’t it be something like: You could cut the tension with a piece of string? That would make it a lot tougher, and hence more tense. So let’s just say you could cut the tension with a piece of string. David B. begins to unwrap the package. Inside is a covered bowl. The bowl is full of Dawn and in it is floating TVEblen’s very sharp, very deadly fingernails.
David B.
What the hell is this?
Gaudere
It’s a message from Hamlet. It means TVEblen is cleaning his dishes.
Psstt! Hamlet. Over here.
[sub]If you’re talking about Coldy, he’s Dutch.[/sub]
- Due to popular demand (by the word “popular”, I mean the ancient Sumerian use of the term which when properly translated, means “absolutely none at all, zilch, zero, no-one gives a hoot”)I will continue the series. The title indicated an EPIC, so I have to live up to that title. Admit it, no-one here really liked reading Beowulf (until Seamus Heaney redid it) or Joyce’s Odyssey, and they were epics, so why expect any less pain from my epic. Maybe I’ll just have Arnold kill my mom and beat me over the head with it!*
CUT TO: The mods office. I’ve described it twice before so I won’t do it again, dammit. Gaudere, Arnold, manhattan, David B. and UncleBeer. The telephone rings.
Telephone
Ring…Ring
Gaudere trips over the now empty bottle of scotch, and gets the phone.
Gaudere
Arnold, you’re wanted on the telephone.
Arnold gets up from his comfy chair, walks over to the phone. He then takes the phone, places it on the ground, and then balances himself on top of it.
Gaudere
No, Arnold, you literalist. I meant the phone call is for you.
Arnold
Who is it?
Gaudere
Don’t know, it’s just some horn music.
Arnold(picking up the phone)
Hello, TubaDiva?
BBLLLAAATTTTTTT!!! Arnold waits a few seconds while TubaDiva finishes Bourrée (from 3rd Cello Suite) by J.S. Bach that she is playing.
TubaDiva
How’s Coldfire?
Arnold
He’s good, I guess. He’s posting all kinds of strange things, things that are humorous or though-provoking. It’s very odd, but we think he’ll make it.
TubaDiva
I love Tuba.
Arnold(into the phone)
Huh?
TubaDiva (over the phone, louder)
BLLLAAAATTTT!
(then)
Arnold?
Arnold (now nearly deaf)
Yeah, I know.
TubaDiva
Tell me you love Tubas too…
Arnold (into the phone)
I can’t talk…
TubaDiva
Can’t you say it? BLLAATTTTTTTT!!
Arnold
Eh – I’ll see you online.
TubaDiva
Okay
TubaDiva then goes back to playing the Bourrée, and to the wonderful sounds of Bach, Arnold hangs up the phone.
Gaudere
Hey, Arnold, why don’t you tell TubaDiva that you love Tubas?
(then, in an exaggerated Swiss accent)
I love Tubas with all-a my heart! If I don’t hear an Alphone, or a bugle soon I’m a-gonna die! [laughs]
David B.(jumping to his feet)
Knock if off Gaudere, it’s a stupid idea anyway. What kinda idiot attempted-satirist would change a love story into a story about a mutual love for Brass instruments. It’s inane!!! As a matter of fact, this whole thing is going straight to hell. It shoulda been left dead for Cecil’s sake! What a complete waste of …
While ranting, David B. pauses to look up to the ceiling of the room. There, with an evil glint in her eye, and a demonic laugh, sits MOTHER Angelica. In her hand is a knife, which is just centimeters from a string, which is the only thing stopping a 16 ton anvil from falling on David B’s head. It’s not the same string that we cut the tension with earlier, it’s a whole new string. David B. just stops ranting, takes a huge sigh, and sits back down.
David B.
Fine. Be that way.
(Turning to Gaudere)
So how’s Poofy?
Gaudere
Oh, Poofy? Won’t see him no more…
David B. (nods)
(then to Arnold, who’s walking out of the kitchen)
Where you going?
Arnold
Online
David B.
Not alone, you’re not. Gaudere, go with him.
Arnold
No, I’m just going online to see what is going on with Coldfire.
David B
No way, we don’t even know if it’s safe on the SDMB
Gaudere
Aw, he’ll be alright – Hamlet knows he’s a civilian
David B.
Alright; be Arnold.
Arnold (sarcastically)
Yes, sir…
Arnold then leaves the room and heads home.
David B.
Go online, anyway, Gaudere, find out what’s going on.
Gaudere just chuckles to herself and heads to a terminal.
CUT TO: Arnold’s residence. You know the drill, no room descriptions. And this time we let the person know we were coming, so Arnold is sitting at his computer, typing quickly. Over his computer, hangs a tapestry of Sempach, circa 1386. Arnold is closing up resurrected threads, trying to get rid of the links to porn sites that flooded the SDMB like Tribbles on the Enterprise, or like the amount of description of women clothing in the Eye of the World Series, or like the amount of times Crow says “Waffle” in that one episode of MST3K. Basically, he is really working hard. One thing catches his eye, it is a recent post of Coldfire’s:
Arnold, being nearly as smart as Bunnygirl immediately realizes that there was no way that post was done by Coldfire. He blazes away at his computer, trying to find out who really posted it. If this were a movie, you’d see all those cool special effects they plug in when they are trying to make something more exciting than what the hero is really doing. Think of the movie Hackers Angelina Jolie…ahhhhhh (drooling on self)… where, in one scene, it’s basically 4 people typing into computers, but the movie has all these somewhat cool special effects, and flashy lights. Insert those here, as Arnold types away. He tries to track down the person moderating under Coldfire’s name. He quickly hacks into Coldfire’s computer, and finds the password and personal firewall measures are disabled. He then quickly shoots and Instant message to David B.
Arnold
David B. – Arnold. I’m at the SDMB, There’s no security on Coldfire’s computer.
David B.
What? Nothing?
Arnold
Nothing. No firewall that UncleBeer set up. No password system. Coldfire’s computer is wide open.
David B.
Don’t panic – Somebody will get there soon.
Arnold (loudly)
I won’t panic!
AAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!
Well maybe just a little.
Arnold then hacks back into Coldfire’s computer. There is somebody else on it! Just before Arnold is about to kick him off, and reset the security measures, he gets an IM from the person.
Person(not just any person, but the person who is online…Just wait you’ll find out in a minute, and no it’s not Mother Angelica)
Hey, Arnold, wait!
Arnold
Who are you?
Person (Wait for it…)
I am Spiritus Mundi, the poster – Do you remember me?
Arnold
Spiritus Mundi…
Spiritus Mundi
Yes, Spiritus Mundi…
Arnold
Spritus Mundi…Spiritus Mundi… The guy with the nun, the donkey, and the 8 pairs of pants?
You better log out of here, Spiritus, it’s not secured.
Spiritus Mundi
No, it was a monk, a dingo, and 6 pairs of Chuck Taylor all Stars…
If there is trouble, I stay here to help you. For Coldfire – for Coldfire.
Arnold
Alright… Listen, someone is using Coldfire’s password and computer to moderate the SDMB. I need you to pretend to be Coldfire, while I reboot and set up the security for his computer.
As Arnold is typing this last message, somebody else tries to gain access to Coldfire’s computer. Arnold quickly realizes they are trying to upload a virus that would wipe out the computer. Arnold goes to work trying to stop it (think more flashy lights…everybody loves flashy lights…and throw in an explosion or two if you want.), while Sprirtus starts posting as Coldfire. After a few tense moments, you could cut the tension with a piece of Jell-O (even harder to do than with a string), the unknown hacker leaves, Arnold is able to get Coldfire’s computer back online, with all the security measures up, and with a new password installed.
Arnold
You did good, Spiritus
Arnold goes back to the computer and traces the posts that were Coldfire’s. He then calls manhattan, to make sure Spiny Norman goes over to Coldfire’s place and makes sure he is physically OK. However, in checking out the computer he finds someone had been posting a story in which he sounded like a love-starved idiot. Knowing that this was a completely untrue assertion, Arnold checks the poster, and sees it is Hamlet who was writing the story. Arnold quickly I.M’s manhattan, David B., and Gaudere and tells them he’s figured out what was going on with Coldfire’s odd postings, and that he’s trying to track down the perpetrators. They decide to meet up again at the office.