…was immediately arrested by the B-ATF. Explaning that they had expressly forbidding the use of the Camel, he was hauled off to the klink. The camel, now riderless, turned and spit toward the bulldozer, which, quite frankly, caused everyone to rhetch. Falling off the drivers seat, the nun-backup-terrorist was crushed under the treads. The spore cloud, eager to get moving again, could do nothing. The giz-coated pizza, now cool, lingered. The pub, now filling with patrons, was a-buzz. Quite suddenly, and to no ones surprise…
Quite suddenly, and to no ones surprise, the camel started wheezing and coughing. The camel was actually Joe Camel, former spokesman (spokesbeast?) for Camel brand cigarrettes, and a heavy chain-smoker. Angry at being forced out of his job by the Feds, Joe grabbed the 20mm cannon that the nun-backup-terrorist had brought along and started blasting the BATF agents and their vehicles. By the time he was out of ammo, there wasn’t a live Fed for miles and their vans were reduced to flaming wreckage. Amazingly, the Pizza Boy survived unharmed. “Damn! Thanks Joe,” he shouted. The Pizza Boy then walked off towards the bar. But John had something very important to ask Joe Camel. He turned to Joe and said…
He turned to Joe and said…
(Did I mention that this entire story occurred during the Salem Witch Trials?)
“Cotton Mather opines that Lilith, the dairy maid at Black Hook Farm, is run with devils. How think ye?”
Joe took on a serious camel look. “She must burn, then.”
“Ye be a stout man, camel. Sure was I that ye would join with righteous men.”
John and Joe started to join the slow, certain, black-clad crowd which walked with torches up the hill to the farm. But all of a sudden, there was a time warp, and…
…there was a time warp, and…
They took a jump to the left. And then a step to the right. They put their hands (Or in Joe’s case, feet) on their hips. And pulled their knees in tight.
As they began to thrust their pelvises, which of course the Pizza Boy had already demonstrated his extraordinary abilities, the black-clad crowd began going insane. Which, of course, could only mean one thing…
Which, of course, could only mean one thing. They inadvertantly dancing the ‘White Boy Dance of Insanity’. Luckily, the dance has never been completed because the dancers themselves begin going insane, they start screaming, and it screws up the whole ritual. Not completing the dance, though, unfortunately brings upon the world a horror previously unimagined by even those who might possibly have imagined it, except that they weren’t quite imaginative enough and who were unable to come up with a single word that describes a person who was unable to imagaine something because of their below par imaginations. The last time the dance was performed, we were plagued with Ricky Martin. This time, it was to be far worse. This time, it was to be…
The last time the dance was performed, we were plagued with Ricky Martin. This time, it was to be far worse. This time, it was to be…
Alanis Morisette. She appeared in a puff of smoke, and immediately began singing one of her angst-ridden, anti-male songs (They’re all about the same). As the whiny, discordant “singing” filled the air, everyone covered their ears in pain. The lamp suffered too, even though it didn’t have anything identifiable as ears. Even the spore cloud, back at John’s house, heard the singing and was pained by it. As Alanis hit one particularly high-pitched and discordant note, the lamp’s lightbulb shattered. This apparently “killed” the lamp, for it immediatly stopped moving. Unfortunately, this meant that there was now noone driving the bulldozer. The bulldozer went out of control, and headed straight for…
…all the dopers that were with us at the beginning of this thread, but have since stopped adding. It vanished into a thousand tiny puffs of smoke and reappeared right night to thier computers, revving it’s engine. The downside to separating into the many, many bulldozers necessary to complete this task, was that they were each 3 inches tall. Looking at these tiny little instument of death, a doper that hasn’t posted here in a while said…
Oh, for the love of god, will somebody post something!
damn lurkers
said… "hey cute! I wonder if I could sell them as mini-christmas tree ornaments!? If I call them a collector’s item, I could do a different one next year & make a fortune!
If only that strange spore cloud hadn’t materialised at the same time…
The cloud surrounded the tiny bulldozers and made them all full size again. This changed a small, cute hum to a huge, raucous rumbling, painful to hear and even louder than Alanis Morrisette. The frustrated Alanis ran up the hill, just in time to see the latest experiments of Lilith, the Satan-worshipping milkmaid.
The black-clad crowd ran from the bulldozers, which pursued them back into town.
Joe Camel turned to John and said “well, that was interesting.”
Joe Camel turned to John and said “well, that was interesting.”
“Yeah,” John replied, “Who knew that the spore cloud could use space-time dynamic harmonics to control any object that tries to enter another dimension? That ability was supposed to have died out with the Thoxian people of Reilos IV.”
“Do you write scripts for Star Trek, John?”
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess.”
“Strange thing, Joe. I thought I had that spore cloud trapped in a vacuum cleaner at my house. C’mon Joe, let’s go check it out.” So John and Joe Camel walked back to John’s house to check on the spore cloud.
Meanwhile, the thousands of bulldozers were all running wild. Due to the laws of space-time dynamic harmonics, most of the bulldozers de-materialized as soon as they touched something solid. But about a dozen didn’t vanish, and started causing incredable havoc. Fences were crushed, trees were uprooted, buildings damaged. One chased the Pizza Boy in circles around the bar. Another drove right through the Copacabana, disturbing the clown-nun-demolitions-expert and causing her to scratch her “Chant” CD beyond use. Naturally, she was greatly upset by this. A third 'dozer chased Alanis Morissette right into a cesspool, which finally shut her up. Oddly, one of them dug an in-ground swimming pool in John’s backyard. Right where he’d always wanted one, too. After about ten minutes of such chaos, all of the duplicate bulldozers disappeared. Only the original remained, and it had finally stalled out. Back at John’s house, John found that the vacuum cleaner’s bag had been ripped. Perhaps he shouldn’t have put it right next to the cat’s scratching post. In any case, the spore cloud was free, and it…
and it…hung in midair, momentarily confused as to who was dead, who was alive, and where they were located. Much like any doper trying to keep up with this thread.
Feeling the need to re-energize, it began hovering towards a local 7-11 to consume a giant cherry slurpee. Many thought this was the source of its power, but actually, it just had a powerful thirst. After sneaking out with its slurpee (since giant spore clouds rarely carry wallets) it began heading towards its true source of power…
it began heading towards its true source of power…
the internet. The computer in John’s house had a really fast cable modem, and the spore cloud logged on to find out who was dead and who was alive. After checking out a few porn websites, it found a site with the info it wanted:
John: alive
Susan: killed by an errant shot from the pizza boy.
Pizza Boy: alive
Margot, the clown-nun-demolitions-expert: alive
the Jehova’s witnesses: dead. Shot by Pizza Boy
Firemen: alive
Ed Zotti, Perry, & Cecil Adams/Clark Kent: alive
Invisible Dan Rather: dead. Blown up by dynamite.
Table Lamp: Lightbulb broken; apparently dead
Backup Agent nun: dead. Crushed under errant bulldozer
Alanis Morisette: alive, but covered in sewage
Joe Camel: alive
Lilith, the Satanic milkmaid: Alive
The spore cloud was now up to speed on everyone’s status. Now there was nothing to stop it from…
The spore cloud was now up to speed on everyone’s status. Now there was nothing to stop it from…
mass chaos and total armageddon, the movie. Well, Binky Bopp, the giant dwarf, wouldn’t stand for this. He hated Bruce Willis. The giant dwarf (who stood a towering 5’5" and had to buy clothes at a specialty midget shop and expand them to fit his body) pulled Alanis from the sludge and hurled he towards the spore cloud.
“NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” screamed the pizza boy. Despite being a depraved killer, he still had a soft spot in his heart for Lilith Fair. He dived across the archway of the rapidly approaching Alanis, knocking her to the ground and covering the pizza boy in feces and corn. Binky Bopp was enraged at this. He stormed over to the pizza boy and said …
He stormed over to the pizza boy and said …
“You know, I seem to remember that it’s a dark and stormy night. I’m soaked and my specially expanded clothes are shrinking. Doesn’t anyone have a damned umbrella?”
“I usually just use a pizza box. It’s not like the pizzas suffer. We’re talking Domino’s, you know.”
“Well, get me another box. One with pepperoni in it, if ya got one.”
Suddenly, there was the cry of a goat being ritually slaughtered. If you listened carefully, you could also hear Lilith chanting, her spell nearly complete…
Suddenly, there was the cry of a goat being ritually slaughtered. If you listened carefully, you could also hear Lilith chanting, her spell nearly complete…
A milk churn full of milk appeared. She fetched her special, hellish ladle, dipped some out & tasted it…
“nuts!” she swore (politely, it being her day off from hell). “If I’d wanted goat’s milk, I’d have kept the goat!”
“Oh, well, nothing else for it but to try the armageddon spell, I hear that pale rider keeps a decent kegger…”
…as if on cue, the pale rider sped by, discreetly dropping an aluminum keg–onto a conveniently places stack of mattresses–full of the best of the day’s Budweiser brew. “It’s for you and the pizza boy,” the pale rider said. She tapped the keg with her trusty carry-along mug. The next thing she knew she was lying there stark naked, and the pizza boy was…
…off delivering another pizza and grinning to himself, his shirt inside-out and reading SONIMOD. He rang the doorbell at the next address.
The customer opened the door, paid for the pizza, and was about to walk back inside when he did a double-take. “You’re Sonimod?” he said, a little too ecstatically. “At last I have you in my power!” And before the pizza boy could move, he pulled out a huge…
…he pulled out a huge banjo, which he then began a-pickin’ and a-grinnin’.
The pizza boy, hypnotized by the plucky twang (or twangy pluck) began walking uncontrollably into the customer’s house, finding himself drawn into the home’s rec room/evil lair.
"Sonimod I have waited long for this moment. For at last I can…
"Sonimod I have waited long for this moment. For at last I can…
Show you my vacation pictures! The kinfolk back in Alabama talk about you all the time, Sonimod." With that, he opened the closet and began to set up his slide projector. The thought of having to sit through someone’s vacation pictures (and on slides, no less) made the Pizza Boy want to flee in terror. However, the customer had plenty of beer, and the Pizza Boy would endure alot for free beer. So the Pizza Boy sat down on the couch and waited for the slides. Within minutes the slide show started: Uncle Fred & Aunt Bertha at the Hoover Dam, Cousin Billy at the Grand Canyon, the whole family opening Christmas presents in someone’s living room, etc ad nausium. Soon the Pizza Boy felt his mind shutting down from sheer boredom. Desperate for mental stimulation, the Pizza Boy looked around the rec room for something interesting. And there, in the closet behind where the slide projector had been, he notied something completely and utterly unexpected. Something that would, for the second time tonight, make the Pizza Boy re-evaluate his reason for being…