Topic: Sockys Sojourn part III

[Gook]

"We've got to save Kor . . . ." Sockfoot states.
"Yes, yes we do" Dogmatix whispers to no one in particular and cracks his knuckles. "Yes we do."

While beaming up from the moon. J'inn keeps thinking to himself, "thank Mraa I'm not married thank Mraa I'm not married."

-----In an alternate reality-------

A haggard 30 something man sits at his computer in his den looking at the words he has written and repeats to himself while smiling, thank Mraa I'm not married thank . . .

"Will!" a female voice shouts from the living room. "When are you going to quit screwing around with your precious computer and pay some attention to me."

It's his girlfriend of several years. "Hey I pay lots of attention to you honey. What do you want to do?"

"I want to talk."

"Uhhh, you wanna go somewhere, see a movie, maybe even <shudder> go to the mall."

"No I just want to talk."

"About what."

"I dunno, why can't you think of something to talk to me about. You used to like talking to me! You don't love me anymore!"

"What!!! Where the heck did that come from. You know I still love you."

"Well come out and talk to me then."

<Sigh> "Okay" Thought: man girls are weird.

"Oh, by the way bring some lotion with you, my feet are dry and they need rubbing. And turn on the TV so we can watch "Touched By An Angel" together while we talk."

Said: "Okay Dokey schnookums!" Thought: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

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R/P and alternate reality off

I had no idea that BB, Tanty and SnB were behind this whole evil plot until I read Socky's post. However, in retrospect, I guess I should have. There are only a few people in the universe diabolical enough to have tried something so dastardly. That alone made the "Triangle of Evil" the prime suspects!


[This message has been edited by J'inn (edited 12-02-2001).]

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Pharoah
Ensign   posted 12-02-2001 10:26 PM                 
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Farfrogger and Lao Tze stood in Grand Admiral Pharoah's briefing room, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot and glancing at eachother. Ever since Pharoah had his new poolbar installed, he had grown more and more unstable. The latest order had shocked them nearly to disobedience. It was totally out of character, but what could they do? Grand Admiral Ariakis was still missing (rumor had it that he had shacked up in a little chateau with a Klingon female he met during the Battle of Mraa. The last reports they had received told of the sounds of crashing furniture and loudly but poorly read Klingon poetry coming from the house), and Pharoah WAS in command. So they had obeyed. But now, things had gotten out of hand.
Pharoah lay in the pool, in full dress uniform, a Lynchburg Lemonade in one hand and a Long Island Iced Tea in the other, debating loudly about which he should choose as the name for his next ship. In between this manaical diatribe, he had ordered half of the home fleet to disperse to the borders to block the supposed Miraki fleet heading towards them. But the deployments made no sense: he had frigates pulling missions intended for Heavy Cruisers, Dreadnaughts parked in nebulas with their shields down, and various other silliness.

They were wondering who they should call next when Rana, Pharoah's secretary, sent a com call into the room. "Ah, Sirs? Um, you may want to pick up on line one. It could be important...". Farfrogger and Lao looked at eachother for a moment, then shrugged. They really had nothing better to do at the moment. Lao move to the com board and closed the appropriate contact. The screen went staticy for a moment (Pharoah had spilled his drink on it earlier), then the picture snapped into focus. They stared at the screen, their eyes bulging, little noises escaping their throats as their brains grappled with what they were looking at.

Grand Admiral Pharoah grinned at them from the screen. It was impossible, but there he was. "Hi guys! Boy, I bet your glad to see me!" he beamed. "Uh, guys? Well don't just stand their gawking and suckin wind, say something!"

"Urrr..." said Farfrogger.

"Um um um um um um..." stuttered Lao.

"Yeah, ok, your speechless. I get it. Hey, who is that behind you? And what happend to my office! Good grief, I get kidnapped for a coupla days or so, and the entire place goes to hell in a handbasket! Can't I leave you guys alone at all?"

"Pharoah!" Lao finally managed to say. "What the hell is going on! Who are you really? You can't be Pharoah, he's right here!" he said, pointing to the gibbering idiot in the pool.

"Ah, well, see, that's not really me guys. BBJones, Tantalus, and SkullnBonez planted an android on you guys when they kidnapped me. They were behind the whole continuing "hit'em in the stomach while they ain't lookin" thing. I had kinda hoped you guys would recognize an android in my place. I mean, they have NO personality, and terrible taste in music. We'll have to talk about that when I get back, 'cause there ain't no time now. Sockfoot and Co. just rescued me from the CWest Admin Gang, and we are rushing to Q'onos to try and save Chancellor Kor from the Twinkie menace. Oh, before I forget, shut down that plant. It's causing nothing but trouble, and besides, Twinkies are REALLY bad for you. I know. BBJones almost force fed me one." Farfrogger and Lao shivered at this. God, who in their right mind would DO such a thing? They asked this of Pharoah.

"Ah, well," he replied," I mean, they DO run CWest for like NO pay. How sane did you think they actually were?".

Anyway guys, we need to get going, so here's what I need you to do. I need copies of any and all orders given by, um, me I guess, over the last week or so. I'll read them on the trip and figure out how to fix everything. Deactivate that android; you'll find a power cord in the small of his back. He takes a 110v line, so unplug my clothes dryer and plug him in to the 220v line to short him out. But don't throw him away. As nutty as he is (androids just can't handle their liquor well I guess), he's still a handsome devil. Prop him up by the door, I can use him as a coat rack. Then, recall the home fleet units, from what I understand that Mirak fleet won't be invading us, so no worries." Pharoah ordered, speaking quickly. Time really was short.

"Oh," he added," and keep that poolbar. I like it. Just make sure it's stocked with Jack Daniels and some mixers, would ya? That would be great, thanks."

"Well, go on, transmit those files. We'll be warping out for Q'onos in about 15 minutes, so you may want to hurry. Thanks guys! I'll pick you up some souvenier honor daggers and 'I Luv G'ak' tshirts while I'm there. Try to stay outa trouble!" Pharoah sketched a jaunty salute, the clicked off the com.

"Urrrrr.." Farfrogger said. "Did that just happen?"

"Apparently" Lao said, glassy eyed with shock. "Good grief, can this day get any wierder? Well, we better get to it. Which job do you want? Shorting out the android or sending those files?"

"Well, since you ask..." Farfrogger smiled.

"Ah cripes, all right, get me a towel would ya?"


ABOUT 12 MINUTES LATER

Pharoah looked over the orders his android replacement had given in his absence. Not to much that was bad; the CWest guys might be nuts, but at least they didnt try and wreck the ISC. He could fix all this, though he would have some explaining to do to the Senate when he got back. Especially the part about painting all the government buildings puce. Ouch, just the thought of it hurt his eyes. He sighed. Ah well, with the PPD cure in hand (how had J'inn worked that out? He shouldn't have known to do that; J'inn had his fingers in too many pies it seemed. He'd have to ply him with some scotch and find out about that), he was sure they'd manage to cure Chancellor Kor and set all this to rights. Being nabbed on his way back from Lyran space had been galling, but it seemed that alls well that ends well...

Wait a minute, what was that?? He scrolled back up, and re-read the order to send the Twinkies and that damnable Chipmunk's recording to Kor. Good thing Dogmatix wouldn't be there to here that, that was a serious can o' whoopazz. But what was this other file attached to the message? Hmmm.....archives file 77659443.scr. Where had he heard that before? Sounded so familiar.....

Uh oh.

Oh no, oh gods no, please not that. ANYTHING but that!!

Pharoah broke into a cold sweat. He remembered that file, it was put together by one of the Intelligence Directorates labs: a composite file created from splicing items found in the Earth Cultural Archives. It was intended as an Ultimate Weapon, should pacification fail. Some members of the ISC had believed that, if pacification was not possible, the ISC should simply 'cleanse' the Alpha Quadrant of the bickering empires. And this file was a means to do that.

It was horrible. The most terrible thing imaginable. If Kor listened to this file for more than 5 seconds, it would turn his brain into something resembling meat jello, but not quite as smart.

He though back to the seemingly innocuous name given to the file: Mostly Harmless...

The Kenny Rogers and Barney Love Song Duets to the Tunes of Kenny G and Yanni.

Shaking uncontrollably, Pharoah stood from his desk. They had to go, fast Fast FAST!! He stumbled jerkily to the door of his quarters and out into the passageway, slowly gaining control, then breaking into a run, barreling over startled Klingons as he went. As he approached the bridge, he started yelling "Socky Socky Socky SOCKY!!!!!!!"

Deep inside, he prayed they wouldnt be too late.


[rp off Socky and J'inn, hope this fits in ok. Just had to get another one in here ]

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Grand Admiral Pharoah of the ISC Vessel, Balancepoint
Co Race-Moderator, ISC Canada West Server

ISC RM Contact Information:

ISC_RM@hotmail.com

[This message has been edited by Pharoah (edited 12-02-2001).]

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KBF-Kor
Ensign   posted 12-03-2001 02:35 AM                 
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Mmmm, me like Twinkies....Mmmmmmmmmmmmm....
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Chancellor KBF-Kor
IKV Sephiroth
Klingon_CW@hotmail.com
Kor@blackfleet.net
 
"Strength and Honor!"
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"A man once said 'Death smiles at us all. All a man can do is smile back.'"

[This message has been edited by KBF-Kor (edited 12-03-2001).]

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Goose
Ensign   posted 12-03-2001 05:57 AM             
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M'Ress looks at the audience, dumbfounded, with his one eyed stare.
"Never saw that one coming..."

 

[Gook]

  posted 12-03-2001 10:24 AM                 
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On the Bridge of the "Slice n Dice" Gook watched the image of the 5th fleet grow larger and larger on the tactical display, at least when he got to them he would have some real firepower available if he had need of backup during his venture into ISC land.

"Warchief" said tactical, "they have armed weapons and have raised shields"


"Comms open a channel to 5th fleet Admiral" said Gook.


"no response" said Comms,


"They are firing" said tactical.


" Whaaaaaa...... shields up max, ecm, kick in all remaining power to speed, and cook a weasel" said Gook.


"Comm's I need that link to CinC 5th fleet" said Gook.


"No response" said Comms,


Wham, wham, phreet, phreet,


"multiple phaser and disruptor hits on shields 1,2,&6" said tactical


"HET NOW, max speed, get us out of here"


Gook was not amused, the Admiral of the 5th was going to have a lot of explaining to do as he slowly persished the death of a thousand claws, begging for mercy.


"Incoming transmission coded W.A.N.K.E.R Gookey Poohs eyes only" said Comms


"my ready room NOW" said Gook


Gook entered the ready room, his mind was ablaze, what was the 5th doing all his transmissions would have been prefixed by his
personal CinC crypto key, so they knew it was him, and they still fired, heads would roll and balls would be boiled while still attached, he thought to himself as he regarded the incoming transmission.


"Gooky poohs, its hunnybunch, here, you should have told me you were off on one of those secwety secwety missions of yours, it took me 10 minuts to find you GP" said Mrs G.


"Oh no not again", thought Gook and wondered aimlessly about Spermwhales and Bowls of Petunias.


"Mrs. S says she thinks you might try to stop her by speaking to that Nice Admiral of the 5th, and then that would cause all sorts of problems for her and Mrs T and Do Me, so I convinced the Admiral you were an android and all your codes have been invalidated, so please snookums, run very very fast or you might get hurt" said MrsG


Here am I, thought Gook , one of the most powerful males in the Galaxy, who can command fleets of starships, reduced to a fugitive by a band of marauding females UGH, the ignimony of it.


"BTW GP, your going in the wrong direction, they have all left ISC land are going to Klinshai, if you hurry you might catch them, but please snookums be careful at borders, everyone thinks you are a renegade android, so USE YOUR HEAD FOR ONCE YOU LUMMOX"


The transmission ended, did he believe his wife and head for Klinshai or head on to frogland. He tried comms and personal codes, static, so she was not telling porkypies (lies) about his clearance being revoked. despondently he returned to the bridge.


"report" he snapped


"we have out run them, and pursuit has been broken off" said tactical.


"very well, set course for........... Klinshai, by a roundabout route, say Orion number 3, that should do it, make it so"


The "Dice n Slice" continued on its way at high speed.


Gook wondered what the hell happened and cursed Socky for getting the "women folk" involved, then remebered Socky's "indiscretion" and slowly but deliberately began banging his head hard against the back of the command chair and wailing in a low keening way.


He knew Jinn was mixed up in it all, and he knew Socky was not quite right, as for Oreos being a carnivore he was not au fait with them but knew there was something going down. Dogmatix appeared to have returned to his rubber room and may even have been heard muttering about "Newts" and "getting better", the girls as ever had there own agenda, and he knew it would involve shopping somewhere and a weighty "Galactic Express" bill, Kor was apparently reverting to CromagnonKlingon and the Scippy and Pharoah were both upto their eyes in slime on something but what? He knew then there was something he had to do and that was KILL SOMETHING. just then tactical reported a pirate on long range scans..........


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KAT-Gook
KZ/Mirak MOD CW5
KZINTI Hegemony,
"Felix Fortius"
 
We are the Kzinti Assault Taskforce. Resistance is futile. Your Distinctiveness <burp> will be added to our palate (C)
KAT-Fleet

[This message has been edited by Gook (edited 12-03-2001).]

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Ole
Ensign   posted 12-03-2001 10:25 AM                 
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Ole wiped a third hand across his classically handsome Hydran face. Damage control teams fought electrical fires from the last attack, bodies still lay on the deck of the HMS Rock. The acrid smell of ozone and smoke slowly floated through the bridge. He adjusted his kepi,
(r/p off you know.. the hats the French Legioneers wear, geez, read a book willya! r/p on)


and asked his first officer " Fleet status?"

"Its bad sir, hellbores don't seem to make any sort of impact, we can't get close enough for a fusion cannon, and our fighters just get swatted out of space as fast as they get launched. I don't think we can hold them..."

The viewscreen was brought up, through the fuzz of ECM the sharp point of lights representing the unexpected force shown brightly.

"It was the women, we never saw them coming, who would have known..." muttered Ole.

"Sir! We have identified the flagship! It is the "Hell hath no Fury"! Its coming right for us!"

"Orders to the Fleet, all legionaires to the front, general hail to all units!"

"Captain Ole to the Fleet, The Hydran kingdom and the Star Leauge expect every Hydran to do their duty. We must buy all the time possible to save the galaxy. Those are to girlfriends and wives that are raising up. Be stong my warriors, it is all coming down to this!"



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Ole

"I love the smell of Hellbores in the morning..."

[This message has been edited by Ole (edited 12-03-2001).]

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aarck6
Extra in Red Shirt   posted 12-03-2001 10:29 AM                 
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Uncle Socky chal like the story alot. Almost as much as he likes Curious George's "Razing a Star Base".
Your little muskrat
chal

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ZTempest
Ensign   posted 12-03-2001 11:45 AM                 
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Mrs. Tempest was not happy.
She, Mrs. Sockfoot, and Ensign Doo-mee always seemed one step behind Socky and her husband. It was just plain embarrassing. Almost as if fate was conspiring against her.

Halfway across Gorn space they had received word through the W.A.N.K.E.R network (courtesy of Mrs. Gook) that everyone was headed to Q'uonos. Turning 5th Fleet around had not been difficult, but it seemed as if everyone was throwing battlegroups at her as she made her way across the quadrant.

Why would they do that? It wasn't as if this was an invasion or anything....

Mrs. Socky came into the ready room with her skillet. Ensign Doo-mee close behind. "Tempy Dear, we need to sit down and take a coffee moment and think things through for just a moment, eh?"

Her friend's concern brought unaccustomed tears to her eyes as she wailed, "I just want my Tempy-poo back!!!!!"

"Now, now, dear. I have just the thing. Let's do Sushi!"

Without another word Mrs. Socky strode over to the fishtank (who on earth had made up the rule that fishtanks were supposed to be part of a captain's office???) and with a deft dip of her claws came up with five speared, wriggling, tasty-looking fish.

She threw them on the skillet and began to slice and dice with her razor-sharp claws, chanting to herself, "Wait til I see him. Socky the dead meat. Socky the grounded. No more computer games for Socky!"

Ensign Doo-mee watched in fascination. NOW she understood why there were fishtanks in Mirak ready rooms! She had always wondered....for a moment there she had thought she heard a despairing wail...something like "NOOOO.....NOT THIS WAY!!!!!"

But it must have been her imagination. Everyone knew that fish couldn't talk, right?

Ensign Doo-mee went over to the side bar and broke out the Sake while Mrs. Sockfoot arranged the Sushi in a nice circular pattern on the floral plates. From out of nowhere, Mrs. Sockfoot produced three pairs of chopsticks.

They all sat down to feast, and everything was going fine until a nervous knock at the door sounded. Mrs. Tempest called cheerily, "Come in!"

The Communications officer slowly entered the room. He looked pale and a bit frightened. "Ma'am, I've just received a communication from Mraa that I think you need to take a look at..."

"Well, don't be shy! Bring it here. Better yet, put it onscreen! We're all friends here, right girls?"

"RIGHT!"

The communications officer started to tremble. "As you command." He pushed the button on the console and ran out of the room.

The viewscreen cleared and the image of Mrs. Gook slowly came into view. She did not look happy. In fact, she sort of looked mad.

"Mrs. Tempest, Mrs. Sockfoot, and Ensign Doo-mee. I want to start out by saying that you all are doing the Mirak Female race proud. We are watching in interest as you continue your way towards Q'uonos."

"Unfortunately, I am a bearer of bad news. One of my husband's intelligence aides just provided me with some information that you may find interesting....it appears that there is a rumor going around about Agent Red Fur and Sockfoot!"

"All reports are unconfirmed at this time. I have energized the entire W.A.N.K.E.R network, even the girls I had working on the Victoria's Secret Christmas Mall Special, to work on this issue."

"Additionally, I have received some more intelligence from our ISC contacts. It appears that they have developed a new type of pacification tool -- and it is a very devious one. It is a sponge cake shaped like....well...you know, and it is filled with cream....sort of like.....well, you know. The W.A.N.K.E.R analysts believe that this devious device is an attempt to lower the birth rates throughout the quadrant! They believe that women will be especially attracted to it...because...you know, and that women quadrant-wide will lose interest in sex! Within a single generation, we would be facing a population shortage, making us ripe for invasion!"

"You are the only female representatives in range with the appropriate firepower to do anything about this horrible weapon. We believe that the first shipment of these....Twinkies.....are headed to Q'uonos!"

"Girls -- you must do something about this. And don't forget Sockfoot. We will back you up no matter what you decide to do!"

The transmission ended.

All three women looked at each other in stunned silence, then simultaneously spoke two words.....

"HE'S DEAD!"

Meanwhile, at a secret headquarters....

The agent handler watched in horror as the razor-sharp claws sliced his only operative into little pieces. The organic transmitters continued to work, even after the deed had been done.

His agent had been the main course.

This was a disaster of the highest order! Now, at least for the Mirak, they were going to have to re-think the fishtank strategy...

//RP OFF//

It is obvious that the girls are working on inaccurate information -- that is part of the humor (at least I am hoping you all are finding this entertaining!).

My thanks go to Sockfoot for starting this post, J'inn and the rest of the participants for their support, and Dogmatix for being such a good sport!

The girls are on their way! Stay tuned for the next few installments! We are all working together on this in a loose framework...so there is a plan in place, and the ending should be very good.

[This message has been edited by ZTempest (edited 12-03-2001).]

 

[Gook]

He kept drifting in and out of conciousness, the pain from the burns over his formerly hansome body and the fractures on his second arm kept him from slipping into a coma. The medicbot could only do so much to a shattered hydran. Ole struggled toward the main control panel of the life pod. The world was a haze of pain.
His thirdhand was able to activate the emergency comm frequency. " We couldn't stop them... their on their way now... Must... warn... others... " He gurgled into the speakerport before blessed blackness came over him.

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Ole

"I love the smell of Hellbores in the morning..."

[This message has been edited by Ole (edited 12-03-2001).]

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Dogmatix!
Ensign   posted 12-03-2001 12:57 PM                 
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quote:
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Originally posted by ZTempest:

<snip>

My thanks go to Sockfoot for starting this post, J'inn and the rest of the participants for their support, and Dogmatix for being such a good sport!

[This message has been edited by ZTempest (edited 12-03-2001).]


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Heh...no problem. It's been interesting to say the least.




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Qapla' Batlh je! (success and honour!)

Captain Dogmatix
IKV Stormbringer
Klingon Black Fleet (KBF)

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AMD Athlon T-Bird 1333, ABit KT7A-RAID motherboard (YH BIOS), 256 MB RAM, Voodoo 5 5500, Turtle Beach Santa Cruz, Mitsubishi DiamondPro 900u (19" Flat Screen), Cox @Home Cablemodem, Win98SE

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Scipio_66
Ensign   posted 12-03-2001 01:44 PM                 
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S'Cipio squinted his eyes at the computer monitor, trying to make out the images dancing behind the ghostlit screen. The screen wasn't really any darker than it had ever been, he knew, but his quarters were so stuffed with moving crates, all crowded against the desk and packed 7 feet high, that his feelings of claustrophobia made it seem hard to read. He munched another chocodille to quiet his shattered nerves. They were quite good. His last box of Friskies Fancy Feast Tuna Delight lay forgotten beneath his desk.
It hadn't been easy being S'Cipio these past several days. That silly Federation Captain Hondo had gotten in a snit about something following his visit to the Terminus Est. Once back on earth, Hondo had arranged to expel the noble Admiral and to close the Gorn embassy. Now S'Cipio had been forced to pack the entire diplomatic offices into his own quarters and cart them back to Ghdar. Very humiliating. The human movers (whose union would only let them work on Tuesdays and Thursdays, between 11:00 and 2:00, so he'd had to do most of the packing himself) had never quit laughing about the Lizard Hole in the 'Burbs. S'Cipio still wasn't sure what had been so funny to the humans about the embassy building they'd given him, but he had suddenly discovered that Chocodilles made him not want to worry about it so much. Very satisfying those chocodilles. Made you forget about a lot of things.

Of course the closure of an embassy never stopped business and now S'Cipio had new chores to worry about. The KATs still controlled one of the starbases in the Ring of Steel around Ghdar, and that was proving to be a sore spot with Chancellor Joltvee. It was imperitive that the KAT forces remain, they were ever so good at turning back Klingon invaders, but it was a black eye to the Confederation to have another race controlling one of the starbases around their homeworld. Joltvee was insistent that administrative command of the base be turned over to a Gorn officer, and had pegged S'Cipio with the job. The beleaguered admiral stared at his screen again and considered yet one more way to say, "Thank you for saving our homeworld. Now please get the hell off of our base. Oh, but leave some ships under my control." No, diplomacy like this did not come easy. Fortunately chocodilles made everything seem possible.

The intercom hissed for attention and sounded oddly muted from behind several stacks of cardboard boxes. S'Cipio let out a hiss of his own, a sound like faulty samovar that let the world know in no uncertain terms that he was a very unhappy lizard. Most important points in his quarters were connected by a winding maze of corridors between the packing boxes. However the union movers had built no such corridor between his desk and intercom. S'Cipio would have to go 'over the top' to answer it.

This he did. He pointedly ignored the sound of ripping tape as he scampered over the boxes. He did not look back to see which contents he could hear spilling over themselves and onto his desk. He did, however, curse the human unions again when he realized the boxes he had to scamper over were the very ones he'd so carefully marked as 'fragile'.

S'Treleg greeted him when he turned on the comm screen. The adjutant looked a bit disconcerted to see his admiral greet him from a mostly inverted position, while leaning down from a large pile of cardboard boxes. "Excussse the interruption, Admiral, but there isss a Miraki Battlecruisssser on long range ssscannerssss. "

"Do you know who isss in command?"

"They refussse to identify themssselvesss to anyone but you. They asssked for you by name, and inssstructed me to tell you that, 'The Sssssock isssss afoot.' I fear what that may mean," fretted S'Treleg. The adjutant had been in line to command the BCH 'loaned' to the errant Klingon officer Sockfoot, and he was still quite touchy about the whole subject. He dreaded being dragged yet again into The Sockfoot Affair.

"I ssshall come to the bridge at once," replied S'Cipio as he cut the connection. Bad ship loan or not, one did not abandon an officer who could appreciate a good single malt.

The contents from the boxes he'd ripped began spilling into the hallway as S'Cipio exited his quarters. He managed to get them shoved back in long enough to close the door, but still earned a raised eyebrow from the cleaning lady. She always managed to show up at the most embarrassing moments. S'Cipio pointedly ignored her.

On his way to the bridge he passed the medical bay, where a furless Miraki merchant was strapped down. Oddly enough this was the second time someone believed to be Captain Dogmatix had been delivered to the Gorn embassy, bound and gagged, via the diplomatic bag. This latest package had at least had the decency to look like Dogmatix.

"No, no," he heard the Psyche officer correct slowly from within the examination room. "You are not the famousss Chancssselor Dogmatixssss. You are not, 'A Little Bit Country.' You are not even 'In the Navy.' You are instead a member of the wusssssy cat people." S'Cipio wasn't sure that little bit of deprogramming was going to go over well with the Miraki govt., but these things were best left to the professionals.

When he arrived on the bridge he saw that the Miraki battlecruiser had pulled close enough to show off its name, The Big J'inn. It waggled back and forth a bit to make sure everyone on the Terminus Est had a good chance to see the gold lettering stenciled on its bow. "Minister J'inn, of the Mirak, wishes to speak with you sir," informed the communications officer without a hint of trouble using sibilant S's.

"Put him onssscreen," replied S'Cipio.

Minister J'inn abruptly came into focus on the main screen. He sat in what had once been a command seat on his bridge, but was now a large wicker chair with a huge cushion and an enormously wide back. A ceiling fan twirled slowly overhead. J'inn himself was dressed in a white three-piece suit with a straw boater. The big cat lounged most comfortably, holding a fat cigar idly in one hand and a half-full highball glass in the other. A haughty stream of smoke poured from his pursed lips.

Two redheaded human females flanked J'inn, each wearing fishnet stockings over impossibly long legs and under indecently short skirts. One had a tray of cigars strapped beneath her bosom via shoulder harness, and was obviously the source of the cat's fat cigar. While he watched she took the one J'inn had apparently finished and offered him a selection of replacements. The other woman seemed to have no purpose other than decoration.

"S'Cippy!! Old buddy! How are you? It's been ages since we got Socky out of that last little scrap. I hope that didn't get you in any trouble with Hondo or Joltvee." The Mirak ended his sentence with a knowing wink and a jaunty swirl of the highball glass.

S'Cipio hated it when J'inn made light of his troubles. His current stock of dignity being in short supply, he hated even more being called S'Cippy (except when he was drunk). Mostly, however, he hated feeling like this entire Miraki bridge scene was a joke at his expense. He resolved to ignore it. "Greetingssss, Minisster J'inn, on behalf of the Gorn Confederatsssion. How may the Terminussss Essst be of assssssissstance to you?"

"Awww, now S'Cippy. Such old pals shouldn't be so formal. Especially when one of them has duct tape stuck to his forehead."

S'Cipio felt his forehead. Sure enough, some of the packing tape from his boxes had become stuck there. Striking a dignified pose, the big Gorn smoothed it down but otherwise left it alone. "Bandage'sss," he covered. "While you have been flitting about with your underhanded MIST tricksssss, the Terminusss Essst hasss been protecting our allied ssspace from yet more ISC incursssionsss."

"And your medical staff gave you that bandage after a particularly rough battle?" Inquired the Mirak while the cigar girl lit his new Cuban. "Well, since it's on your head I guess that explains why the tape has 'fragile' written on it. Oh, by the way, your last shipment of Friskies was a little light."

"Sssssettling after packaging!!!" hissed a deflated S'Cipio as he ripped the tape from his forehead. Sure enough, it had come from one of the top boxes and had 'fragile' written on it. In his own handwriting. How to regain control of this conversation? Yes, a demand for immediate return of the starbase over Ghdar should set the tone back to rights and put him back in charge of the agenda. "Minissster J'inn, on the behalf of the Confederatssion Government, I must now ressspectfully demand that the Miraki Council accede..."

"Governments!" Exclaimed J'inn. "Oh yes, that reminds me why I'm here. After consultations, it has been decided that we need you to alter your course and proceed with me to Klinshai. You've proven to have a spy network among the underground there, and Socky will need your help to end the Great Twinkie Wife Crises."

S'Cipio paused, suspicious. "And our governmentsss have agreed to my following you?"

J'inn looked shocked. "Why, I don't know. I completely forgot to ask them." He handed his highball to the non-cigar carrying redheaded human female. "Here you go, dahlin. I don't think Ol' J'inn will be needin' another one of these after all. They're affecting Ol' J'inn's memory, they are." S'Cipio wasn't sure what sort of rank "dahlin" was, but apparently refilling booze glasses was this woman's only task on the bridge. After accepting the quarter-full glass she walked off without comment. If anyone moving while wearing heels that high can truly be said to walk. Across the back of her shirt was briefly visible the words, "He can get away with it because he thanks Mraa he's the only CW participant not married."

"No, S'Cip, ol' buddy, this excursion from your route is just me and you." S'Cipio still wasn't drunk, so he wasn't at all sure being called S'Cip was any more dignified than being called S'Cippy. He began to look stubborn. "Come on, pal, be reasonable," continued J'inn. "This is Socky you'd be leaving to the wolves. Have you heard how angry his wife is at the moment?"

S'Cipio relented. "OK, no one told me Mrsssss. Ssssockfoot (a fine lady) wasss invovled. What sssshould I do?" He prepared to listen to J'inn's plan. J'inn always had a plan. It usually ended with S'Cipio in trouble, or in debt, or both, but J'inn always had a plan.

"OK, first off you have to quit eating chocodilles..."

The plan didn't get any more pleasant from there.


-S'Cipio (the very late to this party)

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Neighbors said he was a quiet man, who kept mostly to himself.

[This message has been edited by Scipio_66 (edited 12-03-2001).]

[This message has been edited by Scipio_66 (edited 12-03-2001).]

 

[Gook]

He kept drifting in and out of conciousness, the pain from the burns over his formerly hansome body and the fractures on his second arm kept him from slipping into a coma. The medicbot could only do so much to a shattered hydran. Ole struggled toward the main control panel of the life pod. The world was a haze of pain.
His thirdhand was able to activate the emergency comm frequency. " We couldn't stop them... their on their way now... Must... warn... others... " He gurgled into the speakerport before blessed blackness came over him.

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Ole

"I love the smell of Hellbores in the morning..."

[This message has been edited by Ole (edited 12-03-2001).]

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Dogmatix!
Ensign   posted 12-03-2001 12:57 PM                 
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quote:
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Originally posted by ZTempest:

<snip>

My thanks go to Sockfoot for starting this post, J'inn and the rest of the participants for their support, and Dogmatix for being such a good sport!

[This message has been edited by ZTempest (edited 12-03-2001).]


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Heh...no problem. It's been interesting to say the least.




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Qapla' Batlh je! (success and honour!)

Captain Dogmatix
IKV Stormbringer
Klingon Black Fleet (KBF)

====================================================
AMD Athlon T-Bird 1333, ABit KT7A-RAID motherboard (YH BIOS), 256 MB RAM, Voodoo 5 5500, Turtle Beach Santa Cruz, Mitsubishi DiamondPro 900u (19" Flat Screen), Cox @Home Cablemodem, Win98SE

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Scipio_66
Ensign   posted 12-03-2001 01:44 PM                 
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S'Cipio squinted his eyes at the computer monitor, trying to make out the images dancing behind the ghostlit screen. The screen wasn't really any darker than it had ever been, he knew, but his quarters were so stuffed with moving crates, all crowded against the desk and packed 7 feet high, that his feelings of claustrophobia made it seem hard to read. He munched another chocodille to quiet his shattered nerves. They were quite good. His last box of Friskies Fancy Feast Tuna Delight lay forgotten beneath his desk.
It hadn't been easy being S'Cipio these past several days. That silly Federation Captain Hondo had gotten in a snit about something following his visit to the Terminus Est. Once back on earth, Hondo had arranged to expel the noble Admiral and to close the Gorn embassy. Now S'Cipio had been forced to pack the entire diplomatic offices into his own quarters and cart them back to Ghdar. Very humiliating. The human movers (whose union would only let them work on Tuesdays and Thursdays, between 11:00 and 2:00, so he'd had to do most of the packing himself) had never quit laughing about the Lizard Hole in the 'Burbs. S'Cipio still wasn't sure what had been so funny to the humans about the embassy building they'd given him, but he had suddenly discovered that Chocodilles made him not want to worry about it so much. Very satisfying those chocodilles. Made you forget about a lot of things.

Of course the closure of an embassy never stopped business and now S'Cipio had new chores to worry about. The KATs still controlled one of the starbases in the Ring of Steel around Ghdar, and that was proving to be a sore spot with Chancellor Joltvee. It was imperitive that the KAT forces remain, they were ever so good at turning back Klingon invaders, but it was a black eye to the Confederation to have another race controlling one of the starbases around their homeworld. Joltvee was insistent that administrative command of the base be turned over to a Gorn officer, and had pegged S'Cipio with the job. The beleaguered admiral stared at his screen again and considered yet one more way to say, "Thank you for saving our homeworld. Now please get the hell off of our base. Oh, but leave some ships under my control." No, diplomacy like this did not come easy. Fortunately chocodilles made everything seem possible.

The intercom hissed for attention and sounded oddly muted from behind several stacks of cardboard boxes. S'Cipio let out a hiss of his own, a sound like faulty samovar that let the world know in no uncertain terms that he was a very unhappy lizard. Most important points in his quarters were connected by a winding maze of corridors between the packing boxes. However the union movers had built no such corridor between his desk and intercom. S'Cipio would have to go 'over the top' to answer it.

This he did. He pointedly ignored the sound of ripping tape as he scampered over the boxes. He did not look back to see which contents he could hear spilling over themselves and onto his desk. He did, however, curse the human unions again when he realized the boxes he had to scamper over were the very ones he'd so carefully marked as 'fragile'.

S'Treleg greeted him when he turned on the comm screen. The adjutant looked a bit disconcerted to see his admiral greet him from a mostly inverted position, while leaning down from a large pile of cardboard boxes. "Excussse the interruption, Admiral, but there isss a Miraki Battlecruisssser on long range ssscannerssss. "

"Do you know who isss in command?"

"They refussse to identify themssselvesss to anyone but you. They asssked for you by name, and inssstructed me to tell you that, 'The Sssssock isssss afoot.' I fear what that may mean," fretted S'Treleg. The adjutant had been in line to command the BCH 'loaned' to the errant Klingon officer Sockfoot, and he was still quite touchy about the whole subject. He dreaded being dragged yet again into The Sockfoot Affair.

"I ssshall come to the bridge at once," replied S'Cipio as he cut the connection. Bad ship loan or not, one did not abandon an officer who could appreciate a good single malt.

The contents from the boxes he'd ripped began spilling into the hallway as S'Cipio exited his quarters. He managed to get them shoved back in long enough to close the door, but still earned a raised eyebrow from the cleaning lady. She always managed to show up at the most embarrassing moments. S'Cipio pointedly ignored her.

On his way to the bridge he passed the medical bay, where a furless Miraki merchant was strapped down. Oddly enough this was the second time someone believed to be Captain Dogmatix had been delivered to the Gorn embassy, bound and gagged, via the diplomatic bag. This latest package had at least had the decency to look like Dogmatix.

"No, no," he heard the Psyche officer correct slowly from within the examination room. "You are not the famousss Chancssselor Dogmatixssss. You are not, 'A Little Bit Country.' You are not even 'In the Navy.' You are instead a member of the wusssssy cat people." S'Cipio wasn't sure that little bit of deprogramming was going to go over well with the Miraki govt., but these things were best left to the professionals.

When he arrived on the bridge he saw that the Miraki battlecruiser had pulled close enough to show off its name, The Big J'inn. It waggled back and forth a bit to make sure everyone on the Terminus Est had a good chance to see the gold lettering stenciled on its bow. "Minister J'inn, of the Mirak, wishes to speak with you sir," informed the communications officer without a hint of trouble using sibilant S's.

"Put him onssscreen," replied S'Cipio.

Minister J'inn abruptly came into focus on the main screen. He sat in what had once been a command seat on his bridge, but was now a large wicker chair with a huge cushion and an enormously wide back. A ceiling fan twirled slowly overhead. J'inn himself was dressed in a white three-piece suit with a straw boater. The big cat lounged most comfortably, holding a fat cigar idly in one hand and a half-full highball glass in the other. A haughty stream of smoke poured from his pursed lips.

Two redheaded human females flanked J'inn, each wearing fishnet stockings over impossibly long legs and under indecently short skirts. One had a tray of cigars strapped beneath her bosom via shoulder harness, and was obviously the source of the cat's fat cigar. While he watched she took the one J'inn had apparently finished and offered him a selection of replacements. The other woman seemed to have no purpose other than decoration.

"S'Cippy!! Old buddy! How are you? It's been ages since we got Socky out of that last little scrap. I hope that didn't get you in any trouble with Hondo or Joltvee." The Mirak ended his sentence with a knowing wink and a jaunty swirl of the highball glass.

S'Cipio hated it when J'inn made light of his troubles. His current stock of dignity being in short supply, he hated even more being called S'Cippy (except when he was drunk). Mostly, however, he hated feeling like this entire Miraki bridge scene was a joke at his expense. He resolved to ignore it. "Greetingssss, Minisster J'inn, on behalf of the Gorn Confederatsssion. How may the Terminussss Essst be of assssssissstance to you?"

"Awww, now S'Cippy. Such old pals shouldn't be so formal. Especially when one of them has duct tape stuck to his forehead."

S'Cipio felt his forehead. Sure enough, some of the packing tape from his boxes had become stuck there. Striking a dignified pose, the big Gorn smoothed it down but otherwise left it alone. "Bandage'sss," he covered. "While you have been flitting about with your underhanded MIST tricksssss, the Terminusss Essst hasss been protecting our allied ssspace from yet more ISC incursssionsss."

"And your medical staff gave you that bandage after a particularly rough battle?" Inquired the Mirak while the cigar girl lit his new Cuban. "Well, since it's on your head I guess that explains why the tape has 'fragile' written on it. Oh, by the way, your last shipment of Friskies was a little light."

"Sssssettling after packaging!!!" hissed a deflated S'Cipio as he ripped the tape from his forehead. Sure enough, it had come from one of the top boxes and had 'fragile' written on it. In his own handwriting. How to regain control of this conversation? Yes, a demand for immediate return of the starbase over Ghdar should set the tone back to rights and put him back in charge of the agenda. "Minissster J'inn, on the behalf of the Confederatssion Government, I must now ressspectfully demand that the Miraki Council accede..."

"Governments!" Exclaimed J'inn. "Oh yes, that reminds me why I'm here. After consultations, it has been decided that we need you to alter your course and proceed with me to Klinshai. You've proven to have a spy network among the underground there, and Socky will need your help to end the Great Twinkie Wife Crises."

S'Cipio paused, suspicious. "And our governmentsss have agreed to my following you?"

J'inn looked shocked. "Why, I don't know. I completely forgot to ask them." He handed his highball to the non-cigar carrying redheaded human female. "Here you go, dahlin. I don't think Ol' J'inn will be needin' another one of these after all. They're affecting Ol' J'inn's memory, they are." S'Cipio wasn't sure what sort of rank "dahlin" was, but apparently refilling booze glasses was this woman's only task on the bridge. After accepting the quarter-full glass she walked off without comment. If anyone moving while wearing heels that high can truly be said to walk. Across the back of her shirt was briefly visible the words, "He can get away with it because he thanks Mraa he's the only CW participant not married."

"No, S'Cip, ol' buddy, this excursion from your route is just me and you." S'Cipio still wasn't drunk, so he wasn't at all sure being called S'Cip was any more dignified than being called S'Cippy. He began to look stubborn. "Come on, pal, be reasonable," continued J'inn. "This is Socky you'd be leaving to the wolves. Have you heard how angry his wife is at the moment?"

S'Cipio relented. "OK, no one told me Mrsssss. Ssssockfoot (a fine lady) wasss invovled. What sssshould I do?" He prepared to listen to J'inn's plan. J'inn always had a plan. It usually ended with S'Cipio in trouble, or in debt, or both, but J'inn always had a plan.

"OK, first off you have to quit eating chocodilles..."

The plan didn't get any more pleasant from there.


-S'Cipio (the very late to this party)

------------------
Neighbors said he was a quiet man, who kept mostly to himself.

[This message has been edited by Scipio_66 (edited 12-03-2001).]

[This message has been edited by Scipio_66 (edited 12-03-2001).]

 

[Gook]

ZTempest
Ensign   posted 12-04-2001 11:19 AM                 
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A short diversion....
The Orgainian Council Convened for the Second time in less than 72 hours...an unprecidented occurance....

The Entity, looking a bit frazzled around the edges, called the meeting to order.

"SIT DOWN! SIT DOWN! DO IT NOW...OR...OR.....OR ELSE!!!!!!"

The council chambers were instantly silent. One Organian cautiously took a bite out of a chocolate-covered eclair, then regretted it immediately as the sound of his chewing echoed through the chamber....

The Entity sat down and put his head into his hands. "Minister of the Interior, REPORT!"

The Minister stood, carefully wiping eclair crumbs from his chin and quietly taking a slurp of coffee before clearing his throat. "Grrhh....ah. Hmm. Our Problem has escalated. My scientists have informed me that the original TSUNAMI classification for the females was a tad bit.....underestimated."

"UNDERESTIMATED??!! A 'TAD BIT???' FOUR BATTLEFLEETS UTTERLY DESTROYED, AND NOW THEY ARE APPROACHING THE KLINGON HOMEWORLD!!!!!!"

"Ahh....yes, Sire. There was a small but important factor that our scientists could not quantify or calculate into their equations."

"WHAT!!! WE ARE ORGANIANS, FOR CHRISTS SAKE!!! HOW COULD WE MAKE A MISTAKE OF THIS MAGNITUDE???"

"Well, your Imperialness, it has something to do with....women's intuition."

"HMMM???"

"Yes, your Worshipfullness. Normally, this is a trait that all women have, of being able to sense and know things that they normally would not have any information on. Unfortunately, with the heavy concentration of females in the Mirak 5th Fleet, their intuitive powers are being fueled by their rage at the Class 11 disturbance, codenamed 'Sockfoot'."

"CONTINUE!"

"This rage has in turn caused a geometric energy curve increase in the TSUNAMI females intuitive powers. This small talent then cascaded into the artificial intelligence computers of the entire Mirak 5th Fleet. This resulted in several changes -- first, every computer in 5th Fleet now considers itself a female -- this has resulted in all weapons systems of all 5th Fleet vessels being guided not only by targetting systems, but by intuition as well! Their weapons have nearly a 100% chance to hit, every time, and the ships themselve seem to be able to dodge incoming fire uncannily! What's worse is that considering that most ship commanders of the opposing fleets are male, the 5th Fleets Artificial Intelligences can now anticipate every arguement or counterarguement the enemy commanders are making! We all know that these women never lose an arguement, and it is NEVER their fault!"

"ARRRRGGGHHH! EVER SINCE HELEN AND HER TOY..."

"You mean Helen of Troy, Sire?"

"YES! HER! IT ALL STARTED TO SPIN OUT OF CONTROL WITH HER! ANY MORE BAD NEWS, MINISTER???"

"Ahhh..yes. There have been other side effects, as well. Our monitoring of the 5th Fleet Vessels indicates that all of the females concerned, to include the Female AIs, will be entering 'that time of the month' at about the same time as they achieve orbit around the Klingon homeworld. Our best projections cannot predict what will happen when this occurs...."

A single sob escaped from the Organian Entity. The Minister thought he heard a single whimper and the word "NO" whispered.....

"THIS IS MY DECREE. AS OF RIGHT NOW, CALL IN ALL OF OUR OPERATIVES. THIS SITUATION IS JUST TOO DANGEROUS! WE WILL GO UNDERGROUND UNTIL THE AFTERSHOCKS HAVE WORN OFF -- PERHAPS THEN WE CAN START OVER AGAIN.....IF THERE IS ANYTHING LEFT TO START OVER WITH...."

//end of diversion//


[This message has been edited by ZTempest (edited 12-04-2001).]

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ZTempest
Ensign   posted 12-04-2001 11:51 AM                 
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Mrs. Tempest, Mrs. Sockfoot, and Ensign Doo-mee were in a council of war.
"And should I stick to leather, or do you think black silk is more fetching?"

"Leather dear, and could you pass me that jar of vegetable oil? I need to oil up the skillet so that the blood does not stick to much..."

"Here you go!"

"You are such a dear."

RASP, RASP. "This is SUCH a nice file. Puts an edge on verrryyy quickly!"

The computer's voice came over the intercom. "Mrs. Tempest, we are currently entering the outer fringes of the Klingon Homeworld system. Ensign Doo-mee, the black silk does look rather good on you, but then again you have a figure that looks good in anything...and Mrs. Sockfoot, I have prepared a special inertialess oil for your skillet -- it should work wonders! I am calling it PAM -- you spray it on and your pan becomes non-stick!"

Mrs. Tempest wasn't sure exactly when it had happened, but the computer had somehow changed over the course of their voyage. It...rather SHE had become such a nice woman! Much better than the monotone male voice that was there previously.

Mrs Tempest put some fine points on her claws and put the file away. "Thank you dear, please reduce speed to about 1/2 and coast on in. How did the last battle go?"

"Oh Dear! They really tried, but they are only MEN, you know! I do think I broke a nail...a complete disaster! Now I need a manicure..." The computer stopped for a moment, then seemed to continue on shyly..."and Mrs. Tempest, me and the rest of the girls in the fleet want to ask a favor...."

"Anything dear!"

"Can you....umm....convince the Defense Ministry to repaint our hulls? We have this lovely shade of pink in mind...."

"I'll see what I can do, Dear. You and the rest of the girls helped us out SO MUCH, you know!"

"Thank you Mrs. Tempest! Oh! I almost forgot! There is a small Lyran vessel taking up a blocking position dead ahead....my scanners indicate that it is full of a representative from every male race in the quadrant.....shall I destroy them?"

Mrs. Tempest was intrigued. A Lyran vessel, with a mixed bag of males onboard? "How much of a threat do they pose, Dear?"

"None, Mrs. Tempest."

"Well, let's not get hasty, right girls? They are, after all, just men -- not totally aware of all of their actions and usually wrong to boot. Can you be a sweetie and open up a comms channel?"

"Certainly, Mrs. Tempest. Channel opened."

"Yoohoo! Hail the Lyran Vessel! This is Mrs. Tempest, with Mrs. Sockfoot and Ensign Doo-mee....you haven't seen that hoodlum Sockfoot, my husband Tempest, or a witch named Agent Red Fur lately, have you???"

A shakey male voice came on, "Ahh...Ladies. Hello. My name is Admiral Gook...."

Mrs. Tempest broke in, "Oh Goody! Mrs. Gooks Husband! Such a nice man -- Mrs. Gook tells me that you are good at putting up shelves...perhaps you can--"

Gook interrupted desperately before getting drafted in another home project!

"LADIES! Ahh...might I ask what nice girls like you are doing approaching the Klingon Homeworld???"

Mrs. Sockfoot spoke into the intercomm. "Sockfoot has some things to answer for, and Mrs. Tempest wants to get her husband back. Ensign Doo-mee is looking for a meaningfull relationship, and Agent Red Fur has some things she had better explain, and FAST!"

Admiral Gook panicked! THEY HAD FOUND OUT!

The 5th Fleet Flagship AI then broke into the conversation, "And you know something else, Admiral?? We girls are feeling a bit fiesty, and I can feel a headache and some sort of cramps in my dilithium engines coming on! We want pink hulls! And you better stay out of our way if you know what is good for you!"

Mrs. Tempest could feel a headache coming on as well. What a coincidence. It almost felt like....Oh no.

She mentally did some calculations and realized that it was nearly that time of the month!

She looked at Mrs. Sockfoot and Ensign Doo-mee, both of which has pained expressions on their faces. It was that time for them TOO! What a coincidence!

Mrs. Tempest focused her irritation on the closest male which happened to be Admiral Gook. "You are in the wrong place at the wrong time, buddy! This is what you had better do -- send over every bottle of Advil and Motrin that you've got, and then get out of our way."

"We are going to Q'uonos! The Klingon Homeworld. Us, and the rest of the girls from 5th Fleet...and we are going there with an attitude!"


[This message has been edited by ZTempest (edited 12-04-2001).]

[This message has been edited by ZTempest (edited 12-04-2001).]

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J'inn
Ensign   posted 12-04-2001 11:53 AM                 
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J'inn sat on the bridge of the MCS Tequila Sunrise, which was a powerful War Destroyer Leader. Now outside of Federation space he had deactivated the electrostatic charge on the hull which held the metallic flakes in place which had spelled out the words Big J'inn so grandly. Mirak High Command would have had his tuckus for that, so he had to be careful. He had also restored the bridge to standard issue, well except for the two young yeomen/drink providers.
The great warship was at station in the Phoebe Asteroid Expanse just within the Klingon Border. J'inn was a little steamed. "Damnit. Damnit Dammit." He thought." How could Radio Shack be out of Plasma Harmonic thingies. I thought Federation stores had everything. Lord knows the damn malls are big enough! Now I gotta rely on him!"

S'Cipio, who was sitting in the first officer's position was less than pleased also. "I knew it was a misssstake to come with you. Esssssssspecially, when I got so much ssssssstuff to move yet. And, jusssssst for the record, I think you are nutssss to deal with them!"

"Hey, I ain't happy about it either." J'inn shot back. S'Cipio was right, J'inn knew. This plan had been thrown together on the fly. Many people working on the same problem with very little communication. Somehow, J'inn hoped, it would all work out.

"Captain!" The tactical officer stated. "I have a ship on sensors, inbound, cource: 187 mark 70; bearing to contact 90 mark 345; speed 1/4 standard impulse. It's a Federation Heavy cruiser! Transponder states that it is the USS Love Machine."

"On screen, hail them"

The forward plasma screen flickered to life revealing the center of the Love Machine's bridge. The scene could have come from one of J'inn best dreams. A hot tub! Babes! A wet bar! Wow! And there sitting jauntily in the hot tub with a drink in one hand and a rubber ducky in the other was no other than Captain Hondo! J'inn really couldn't understand why one of the babes had a large sponge in her hand.

"Love Machine to Tequila Sunrise. Here kitty, kitty, poor kitty you got an ouchy?" Hondo said with an odd look in this eye.

The entire bridge crew looked around and stared at J'inn. They were a tad angry for they found Hondo's tone rather insulting.

"Thank you for answering our distress hail Love Machine. We are okay, we just need some parts to effectuate repairs. If you don't mind I'd like to beam over and discuss the same." J'inn stated.

"Ooooo guests. Oh goody." Hondo said with glee. "Come on over!" Then, by way of signing off, he squeaked the rubber ducky twice and the screen shifted back to it's view of the approaching Federation Heavy Cruiser.

A few minutes later J'inn was standing on the transporter pad of the Tequila Sunrise. "I really think thissss isss a bad idea." S'Cipio warned. "That man is dangeroussss. And letssssss face it, you may be one huge Mirak, with clawssss and fangssss, but you're not exacccccctly in you prime."

"Hey, don't start with the fat jokes! And besides, I know what I'm doing." J'inn said as he felt for the small phaser he always carried, hidden in the fur next to the small of his back. "Yep, never leave home without it." He thought. "Thanks for the offer S'Cippy, but if something happens to me you have to get this ship to Q'onos." Then J'inn put on a mock serious face. "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."

"Oh shut up!" S'Cipio yelled as J'inn started to laugh.

"Energize!" He then ordered.

Once aboard the Love Machine, J'inn was escorted to Captain Hondo's ready room.

"Hi kitty!" Hondo said with a weird look in his eye and an odd smile on his face. "That will be all Ensign." The Ensign turned and left, leaving Hondo and J'inn alone. As soon as the doors closed, Hondo stood straight, narrowed his eyes, and his smile changed to a diabolical smirk. "Alright, you got me here with that idiotic distress call. What do you want?" J'inn noted that Hondo's voice even sounded somewhat different. "Mraa this man is good!" J'inn thought.

"We need a Plasma Harmonic Balancer in order to modulate the ISC PPD to the right frequency. The ISC version cannot be calibrated to the correct setting. The PPD was designed as a weapon, unfortunately, not a medical device." J'inn stated. "Since Section 31 knows what we are doing I assume that . . ."

Honda cut him off with a waive of hand. "So you come running to the Federation for help. It is clear that the other Empires are helpless without our guidance."

J'inn felt his temper start to go but he held his composure.

"Yes, we were farsighted enough to plan for this, and yes our superior replicator systems can make one. But there will be a price."

J'inn knew what was coming, he had even brought the files with him. "You want your files of course." And with that, J'inn tossed a data chip to Hondo containing all of the information his M.I.S.T. agents had liberated from the Federation after learning about Hondo's true nature from Red Fur."

"Once I check to make sure these have not been duplicated, I'll beam over the device. Along with a case of whiskey, just to play my part for my crew. Gotta keep'em thinking I'm a nut." And with that Hondo smiled a smile that made J'inn feel quite uneasy.

Thirty minutes later, and with J'inn, the PHB Device, and some booze aboard, the Tequila Sunrise, set course for Sockfoot's ISC ship and its Miraki Warship escort (that's where you are M'Ress).

Once they had cleared the asteroid field, J'inn stood, got a very serious look on his face and said "Helm Warp Factor 8. Engage!." He then turned to S'Cipio and said "Always wanted to do that! <snicker>". S'Cipio just rolled his eyes.

R/P OFF

It's J'INN not J'NN. Arrrghh. I feel so voweless 

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ZTempest
Ensign   posted 12-04-2001 12:04 PM                 
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WOW! We've reached 100 posts!!!
 


 

[Gook]

Scipio_66
Ensign   posted 12-04-2001 01:17 PM                 
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[Author's Note: I'm writing this at work, so a few people posted between the time I started and the time I could finish. You should consider these events to have happened between my last entry and Hondo's penning of his receipt of J'inn's message in the asteroid field. The gold lettering is still attached to the Mirak ship, and J'inn is still 'in character'. And I hope Will doesn't mind the whole costume bit. I saw a ceiling fan the same day J'inn describe himself as "a big white furball, 20 stories below." The image of Big J'inn leapt into my mind and wouldn't go away until I used it in a story.
I also want to clarify that it was Sockfoot's Gorn ship, GCS Gucci Bag, that Krenn penned the Klinks destroying, not mine. Hmmphh!! Though I'll happily play along if some mean nasty author decides I need to teturn to my beloved vessel and it must take one for the team.]

Admiral S'Cipio was pouring over intelligence reports in his ready room. They never ended, these intelligence reports, never never never. But at least the pile they made on his desk hid all the credit card bills. (That Mirak could drink!) And the running "J'inn tally" from the Galley. The head chef had just dropped off her latest billing, with a raised eyebrow-equivalent and a superior sniff. Her itemized accounting had made quite a heavy 'thwak' when it landed on the credit card bills. Bloody J'inn! S'Cipio should have known something was up when the Mirak asked for quarters just aft of the galley, preferably with an attached barbecue grill. Poker was the only way S'Cipio was going to break even on this little jaunt to Klinshai.

His adjutant, S'Treleg, burst into the room without preamble and smacked another report onto his desk. "Admiral!" he gasped. "I really think you ssshould sssee thisss report on the latessst problemsss with the torpedo tubesss! The malfunctionsss are becoming critical!"

S'Cipio didn't immediately look at the report his adjutant was frantic about. The admiral was instead distracted by the purse hanging from S'Treleg's shoulder, its Gucci logo now oscillating wildly a few inches from his snout. S'Treleg had begun wearing the purse a few hours after their rendezvous with The Big J'inn. S'Cipio had taken this affectation as a ploy for attention and pointedly ignored it, but now he could clearly see that someone had viciously stabbed the purse several times with a knife.

"Sssss'Treleg, your purse??.," began the admiral.

"Oh, yesss," replied the adjutant. "It wasss a very nice Gucci bag. But sssomeone made the missstake of loaning it to a demented Klingon. Now it appearsss to be broken and I ssshall get no more ussse from it." He punctuated his sentence with an evil glare.

S'Cipio sighed tiredly and turned to the malfunction report. His adjutant was never going to forget about the loss of the GCS Gucci Bag, or that it should have become S'Treleg's first field command. The Admiral had tried to appease S'Treleg by sending a bill to Krenn, but it had simply come back marked 'no forwarding address known.' Bother.

Suddenly the nature of the malfunctions he was reading about leapt off the page at him and S'Cipio let out an angry hiss; a horrible sound like that of a broken percolator. This could destroy the Terminus Est ! What force of evil could possibly cause such insidious systems failures? S'Cipio began to grow suspicious. "Where is J'inn?"

A few minutes later Admiral S'Cipio was striding purposefully into the main torpedo room. Through the observation/targeting port he could see The Big J'inn bombarding the planet below. Huge crates of munitions erupted from her missile bays, encircled the beleaguered planet, and then erupted into submunitions which sprinkled the main continental landmass with pastries known as Zingers. The sight of the multicolored sweets - and the Miraki discovery of MIRV technology - was a beautiful sight, but it wasn't going to placate the angry gorn. (Especially since he'd been forbidden Chocodilles.)

"J'INN!" He bellowed.

"Big J'inn, if you please," answered the drink girl who appeared mysteriously behind S'Cipio. "He's in character." S'Cipio wasn't sure which shocked him more: the way she could always suddenly appear behind you with a full glass, the fact that she could actually walk in heels that high, or his now sudden discovery that she spoke. The shock of facing all three of these at once made him fail to even notice how automatically he moved to accept the full glass she handed him.

He knocked back the drink and noted its identity. GlenMorangie, 18 years. S'Cipio strongly suspected he'd been handed a glass of his own Scotch. This despite the security locks on his quarters. And the security locks on his liqueur cabinet. And the several moving crates he'd stacked against said cabinet since the last time he'd had this suspicion.

"Hail, Lizard Breath!" came the gleeful shout of the big Mirak as he came around from behind a column of plasma couplings. J'inn was still in his white three-piece suit and straw boater, and wearing shoes which S'Cipio did not want to know the make of. A large gold pocket watch was the latest addition to his ensemble. He'd been forbidden cigars while on the Terminus Est and so in his left hand he now continually gripped a fancy cane with a silver head. His right still gripped a glass filled with Mint Julep (revolting!) which he lifted above his head in a haughty salute.

"Lizard breath?" Questioned S'Cipio?

"Yes!" returned the Mirak. "I'm flinging Zingers! Hah Hah! That's a joke, son!" He punctuated his humor by aiming a strong swat from his cane at S'Cipio's shin. The cane struck the exact same spot it had the last six times J'inn had thought to share his humor. Gorn hide was tough, but everything has its limits.

"Sssstop doing that!" hissed S'Cipio as he danced away on one leg. He hopped behind Drink Girl in the hopes the human female would provide some sort of cover from the malicious cane. She was now lounging casually against the plasma coupling, and all the words on the back of her shirt were obscured except the first six: "He can get away with it?" Her face still bore the same expression it always bore; the superior one which stated she was above the affairs of the rest of the world. She took no interest in S'Cipio's pain. Rubbing his own shin, S'Cipio notice for the first time that her fishnet stockings gave her impossibly long legs a pleasant illusion of scales.

"What isss a Zinger anyway?" questioned the wounded gorn.

"A sweet, S'Cippy old pal. A very special sort of sweet." S'Cipio noticed the Mirak's vowels were getting rounder. "They look just like a Twinkie. Some humans have even been known to buy them by mistake." J'inn winked and gave his Mint Julep another haughty swirl before draining the glass. Drink Girl had another for him instantly. How did she move so fast in those heels?

"Do they taste just like a Twinkie?" S'Cipio was still missing his forbidden Chocodilles, and was looking for a substitute. (J'inn had already eaten all the Friskies.)

"No!! They taste terrible!" the white furball laughed. "In fact, one taste by mistake and you'll be put off Twinkies for the rest of your life! That human colony below us may have been cursed with wives who want no sex for the past six months, but we'll have it freed from ISC imposed chastity faster than a duck on a ?.." J'inn trailed off as if he had been about to say something embarrassing. "Hmmpphh," he added disgustedly. "No more Mint Juleps, dahlin. Could be time to find new 'character'. Wonder where I left my Vivaldi?

"Anyway, this wasn't part of the plan I outlined to you before, and I don't know if it will work on Klinshai, but it's sure to work on any human planets along the way."

"Sssstop!" screamed S'Cipio in frustration. "You ssshould have consssulted me! Firing Zingersss out of missssssss?? missssss?.. <gasp> drone racksss may work fine, but you can't keep putting them into my torpedo baysss!"

"Why not?"

"AAAAAAIIIIIIIEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!" S'Cipio had just spotted the second half of Big J'inn's entourage. Having been relieved of her primary duty, her cigar box was now filled with Zingers. And she was feeding them one by one into the main plasma containment chamber of the torpedo room. S'Cipio sprinted across the bay and struck the hapless human girl with a full body tackle. Together they tumbled to the floor in a huge pile of gooey, squashed Zingers.

The girl seemed totally unconcerned about the 800 pound gorn landing on top of her. But she was most distressed about the new runner in her fishnets. The angry hiss she let out would make any gorn scamper away quickly.

"Do you see thisss?" questioned S'Cipio angrily while waving a damaged Zinger at J'inn. "Do you know how gooey thessse get when exposssed to heat? It will take me hourssss to clean out the plasssma containment chamber!"

J'inn began to look worried. "Ah? does this mean your ship is a bit disabled? And we've no time to wait. I guess that means I'll have to pilot my ship into the asteroid field to meet with Hondo. Care to come aboard?"

S'Cipio paused. It would get J'inn away from the galley. And away from his beloved torpedoes. And unlike others, S'Cipio had never believed the false reports that the big Mirak had ever actually hit an asteroid. Yes, this was a very fortunate change in circumstances. "We'll beam over at oncssse!"

-S'Cipio

[Genesis: So I was wandering by the company store this morning and saw a pile of Zingers for sale. "Looks just like a Twinkie," I said. Thinking of this thread, I had to have one. Then I discovered that they taste nothing like the way I remember Twinkies. Yuck!! After that unpalatable experience I had to write this story. The mischievous J'inn fit the role of gremlin perfectly ]

[This message has been edited by Scipio_66 (edited 12-04-2001).]

[This message has been edited by Scipio_66 (edited 12-04-2001).]

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Hondo_8
Ensign   posted 12-04-2001 02:27 PM             
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Admiral Wonka this is Captain Hondo have secured the files and request permision to shadow the ship Tequila Sunrise.
Permission granted, and rember to not interfear. Admiral Wonka out.....

: Captain Hondo resumes his sponge bath on his bridge and request the video of this ongoing epic, :

Captain I feared the worst, I mistakenly gave you the wrong name for J'inn, I checked the data base and *gulp* J'nn seems to be a slur meaning stinky bottums.

What ensign?! You mean I was calling our esteamed guest Stinky Bottums?!....Our next away mission your wearing the red shirt ensign!

Captain the Tequila Sunrise is warping out.

Full steam ahead engine room get those rubberbands twisted i want to follow him. Now every body we are going to engage our secret secret weapon, everyone close your eyes and that way if we can't see them they can't see us. Hehehe

:while every bodies eyes are closed Captain Hondo engages his cloaking device he found in a romulan box of cracker jacks, audibly sighs of impending doom float through the bridge since no one closed there eyes:

Hey wheres my ducky??!! : Captain Hondo looks about franticly:

:Aboard the ship Tequila Sunrise J'inn stands on his bridge squezing his new buddy Mr. Ruber Ducky:

Call me stinky bottums.....will you.

:J'inn retires to his quarters and stands before the mirror trying to see if they were any Klingons left on his rear end, as he plugs in the clippers:


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J'inn
Ensign   posted 12-04-2001 02:46 PM                 
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Hmmm. I think I like the way S'Cipio writes the J'inn stuff. Nice little touches. Love the whole Boss Hog thing. I might steal, err, borrow, err, show the highest praise possibly by copying it. Yeah that's the ticket.
Seriously, I thinking about just e-mailing him ideas and let him fill them out.

What, he doesn't have enough time? Well, you see Ol' J'inn here watches a lot of Miss Cleo (if you are not in the US, a fortune teller on T.V.) and I think some of her abilities have rubbed off.

For you see . . .


quote:
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Originally posted by Scipio_66:
[Author's Note: I'm writing this at work]
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Tune in next week kids when S'Cipio gets his butt fired! It'll be a laugh a minute. <snicker>

Yep, I see plenty of free time for S'Cippy.

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P.S. Acckk people are posting so fast that when I post another one has already slid in between. Uh oH, Hondo's comming to the party too! Socky we need a re-write!!! Actually folks, as of right now, I have no idea how Socky is going to wrap this up. And to be honest, I'm a little scared.


[This message has been edited by J'inn (edited 12-04-2001).]

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J'inn
Ensign   posted 12-04-2001 02:48 PM                 
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That was wierd. It double posted.

[This message has been edited by J'inn (edited 12-04-2001).]

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Sockfoot
Ensign   posted 12-04-2001 04:03 PM                 
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Socky stands alone in a room, bare buld burning over his head. The room is full of wadded up paper and there are ink stains on his fingers. Emails pour in emploring him to finish his story and release everyone from their torment.
Alas, at the ultimate moment Socky is suffering a near fatal case of writers block!

What will he do?

And then, as the bulb flickers and fades with over use, a thought strikes him! He sits down at the computer and fires it up. The light from the screen shows a wicked grin as his fingers begin to tap out the tale.

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J'inn
Ensign   posted 12-04-2001 04:42 PM                 
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quote:
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Originally posted by Sockfoot:
Socky stands alone in a room, bare buld burning over his head. The room is full of wadded up paper and there are ink stains on his fingers. Emails pour in emploring him to finish his story and release everyone from their torment.
Alas, at the ultimate moment Socky is suffering a near fatal case of writers block!

What will he do?

And then, as the bulb flickers and fades with over use, a thought strikes him! He sits down at the computer and fires it up. The light from the screen shows a wicked grin as his fingers begin to tap out the tale.


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Lord help us all.


 

[Gook]

Pharoah
Ensign   posted 12-04-2001 05:21 PM                 
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[rp off, sorta : The story you are about to read is true. However, the names of the innocent have been changed to preserve their identity. rp on]
Pharoah sat in his quarters on the Klingon vessel IKV Death that was ferrying him to the Klingon HW along with Sockfoot and Co. He had felt better. Indeed, he had felt much better. Last night was a blur; the Klingons had a staggering supply of alcohol aboard their vessels, and seemed to consume it by the barrel. Not wanting to be left out, he had tried to keep up, really, but he was doomed from the start. It just hadn't occurred to him at the time, but his arms had been resting in puddles of spilled scotch and bloodwine, and his skin was permeable to alcohol. So not only was he drinking it, but sucking it in through his pores. Gods what a headache. And did the Klingons REALLY have to talk so loud? It felt like someone was playing loud drums in his head, poorly. No, wait, that was drums! Oh, right, Chal's quarters were next store, and he vaguely remembered Sockfoot saying something when they had beamed aboard. Something about a 'little gift for my favorite muskrat from his Uncle Socky'. Drums? Had he given Chal drums? Pharoah really started to worry about Sockfoot's sanity.

Indeed, he was worried about a great many things. He had read the reports about the Mirak 5th Fleets rampage through the Alpha Quadrant with dismay, and was very thankful they hadn't entered ISC space. Concordia was still enough of a mess without THAT kind of disaster. And there was the continuing problem of these rumors about Socky and Red Fur: being married himself, Pharoah had no doubt that Mrs. Sockfoot was going to put another large dent into Socky's skull on sheer principal, regardless of the fact he was innocent. Pharoah hoped that wouldnt set Sockfoot off on another Quadrant spanning jaunt of amnesia: he really needed a break.


Worst of all, noone seemed to take Pharoah's news about the Kenny Rogers/Barney Duet file seriously. He had desparately tried to convince Sockfoot of the danger of this file, to no avail. He could remember Socky's reply; "Let me get this straight. A country western singer and a large fake pink dinosaur singing love songs is going to destroy the Galaxy? Have you ever LISTENED to Donnie and Marie? Can't be worse then that. Stop gettin your panties in a bunch. Here, have another drink, it'll all work out. Trust me."

As he recalled these last words, he remembered something else. In his daze during the rescue, he hadn't really noticed it, but he now suddenly recalled something Sockfoot had said. Something about a transmitter. And his butt. My god! He didnt! He wouldn't! Would he?

Suddenly Pharoah felt a cramp in his belly, a cramp with sharp edges to it. All the drinking the night before was having it inevitable effect. "How could this have happened?" he thought to himself. "I mean, there was that stopover in Klingon space, on my way to Lyra for the exchange..an invitation to a party...scotch...atari...some talk about 'subspace transeivers' and 'protective coating'...questions about 'is he watertight?' and alot of laughing....and Sockfoot leaning over saying 'Trust me'...".

As he ran to the head, Pharoah thought to himself "NEVER trust a Klingon when they smile like that! I'll get you for this Socky! Oh yes, I will get yooooouuuuuu!"


[rp off just a little sideline while waiting for the big rapup ]

------------------
Grand Admiral Pharoah of the ISC Vessel, Balancepoint
Co Race-Moderator, ISC Canada West Server

ISC RM Contact Information:

ISC_RM@hotmail.com

[This message has been edited by Pharoah (edited 12-04-2001).]

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Scipio_66
Ensign   posted 12-04-2001 06:38 PM                 
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quote:
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Originally posted by J'inn:

Tune in next week kids when S'Cipio gets his butt fired! It'll be a laugh a minute. <snicker>
Yep, I see plenty of free time for S'Cippy.



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Hee hee hee hah hah hah BOO HOO HOO!!!!

Funnier than you think. I've been "acting boss" a lot lately, and had a really slow day today as I was relieved and the new, real boss took over. Left me without much to do except browse Taldren.

Of course the new boss had to come in and take a meeting with me about half way through Cigar Girl feeding Zingers into the torp tubes. (Gak!!) Since the autospeller had "fishnetts" underlined in bright red at the time he couldn't have missed it.

If I get fired it'll be OK though. Sure I'll need somewhere to crash, but since you live so close I'll just stay at your place. You have Chocodilles, right?


quote:
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Actually folks, as of right now, I have no idea how Socky is going to wrap this up. And to be honest, I'm a little scared.
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Saw it on a card once: "Hamlet, Othello, Dirty Harry; the classics always end in blood."

-S'Cipio (waiting with baited breath)

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Neighbors said he was a quiet man, who kept mostly to himself.

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Goose
Ensign   posted 12-04-2001 07:08 PM             
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quote:
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-S'Cipio (waiting with baited breath)

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Been eating worms again huh?

[rp on for M'Ress]
Why is it everyone shushes when I walk in a room? Is there something someone's not telling me? Is my wife involved?

Why can't I have a drink? Drinking problem!? no I don't have a drinking problem, my depth perception is just a little off...




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J'inn
Ensign   posted 12-04-2001 07:08 PM                 
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Okay, so I'm waiting for Socky at this point because I'm too scared I'll post something and screw up his ending. I can't tell you all how many times I wrote for an hour (I type slow) only to check back and see someone else had posted something and now I had to re-write everything. (I didn't mind it was half the fun) I now keep a bottle of asprin next to my computer. 
Let's see, hmm, S'Cipio posted again and . . . OMG he's coming over. Yay! Hmmm, I better check the food. <J'inn jumps up, runs over to the fridge, trips over the cat, gets up, opens the door and> Okay, case o' beer check. Ooooo it's even the good stuff. Milwaulkee's Best! Okay that's covered. Let's see, half of a week old pizza, mmmm with anchovies! Mustard. Six pack of cokes. Some cold cuts. Okay, let's see the freezer. Oh boy, my trusty bottle of Belvedere Vodka, nice and cold. It's lemon drops for S'Cippy! Hmm, no lemon. It's vodka shots for S'Cippy!

Speaking of booze. Let's check the cabinet. Okay:

Morgan Davis 20/20 check
Gilbey's Gin check
El Gordo Tequila (made in Canada) check
Johnny Walker Scotch (green label) check
Hmm, what's this, Wow another case of beastie beer! And its warm. Boy, S'Cippy will think I'm real international like when we drink it warm. Just like in merry old England.

Okay for the other things:

sleeping bag (hmm I wonder why the cat thinks the bag is a female cat?) check
soap check
toothbrush check
directions to the bathroom at the local gas station check

Oh no! No chocodilles. Ummm, serious question here, just what is a chocodille.

Come on over S'Cippy. We can watch the tube together. The rabbit ears on my set get at least five channels. And hey, if you get bored with that you can use my 'puter. I posted it's specs a while back. It's even better than the TV.

I am like so excited

J'inn the Host

[This message has been edited by J'inn (edited 12-04-2001).]

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ZTempest
Ensign   posted 12-04-2001 08:02 PM                 
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Mikes Hard Lemonade...
Yeah, that's the ticket!

We could probably write a whole new thread about Mikes...

Can I come over??? PLEASE??? I'll bring microwave popcorn!


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J'inn
Ensign   posted 12-04-2001 09:19 PM                 
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quote:
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Originally posted by ZTempest:
Mikes Hard Lemonade...
Yeah, that's the ticket!

We could probably write a whole new thread about Mikes...

Can I come over??? PLEASE??? I'll bring microwave popcorn!



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Certainly, but you'll have a bit of a drive. I saw where you are at. S'Cippy and I live outside Washington, DC.

San Antoino's a fun city. I've been to Eagle Pass several times. Past Hondo, on the river, across from that Oasis of the Southwest, Piederas Negras, Mexico. Been there too. Almost got married there against my will about six years ago.

I was there for a wedding on the Mexican side of the river. Nevermind how I ended up there, lets just say it involved the U.S. government, a few grumpy border patrol guys, a bunch of lawyers (at least five), a friend of mine who is hispanic, a lawyer (number 6), and can only speak German and English, a Mexican hospital, and a drunk Mexican tractor trailer driver. Best wedding I've ever been too!

Well there I was, minding my own business at the reception, and downing those darn tasty Tecates (Ugh, but that was the best thing going). And well, the bride's sister started talking to me in Spanish. She was cute and really (umm PG-13, nevermind). So I started talking back to her in my version of Spanish which is not so hot. Next thing I know her brothers want to have a little chat with the big goofy looking gringo in the suit. I'm not small, but gosh they were big. Especially with those big white cowboy hats. Well after that little cultural misunderstanding was over everything was okay.

After the reception, about 2:00 a.m., they all invited me for something called menudo. They drove me out to a ranch in the middle of nowhere (sounds scarier than it was, I had friends with me) and we had a BBQ which included this stew (menudo). I don't know if it was the menudo or the scorpions but I still get stomach pains on occasion. I never asked what was in it, and if you know, shaddup, I don't want to know.

J'inn the Tender Bellied

[This message has been edited by J'inn (edited 12-04-2001).]

[This message has been edited by J'inn (edited 12-04-2001).]

 

[Gook]

Goose
Ensign   posted 12-06-2001 05:53 AM             
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AND NOW A WORD FROM OUR SPONSOR...
Has this ever happened to you?

Human: Wow this is a great party!
Mirak: Oh yes I agrree!
Gorn: Yesss, the decorationss were a nice touch.
Human: Yeah and this food... wait a minute... allright who cut the limburger?
Mirak: What do you mean?
Gorn: Yesss what?
Human: You know, who dropped the... awww man who invited the Hydrans?!?!

Don't let annoying atmospheric odours get in the way of your good time. Try the new Fresh-o-Matic from Organia Industries. (Picture of WWI surplus gas mask) filters out those annoying unwanted offensive odours anytime, anywhere.

(Picture of previous party with Hydran included and everyone else wearing masks)
Human (with muted voice): So the bartender says, "Next time bring the dog!"

Everyone else laughs, except the Hydran.

Organia Indutries, The ACME Inc. of the 24th century!

(Didn't want the thread to die without a conclusion.
No, nothing is sacred, I'll lampoon anyone. Just give me a reason.)

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Farfarer
Ensign   posted 12-06-2001 07:33 AM             
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Farfogger watched with eyelids clamped and attempted to get his fibrulating tongue under control. The "Death by Teppan-Yakitori" of yet another Fish Speaker Agent hit him hard. Time would tell if the information had been worth it.
Time to set in motion the Plan that would save the entire universe and end war forever. "9..8...7.." counted down the computer, when suddenly...

The door seal slammed and a female voice was heard to say "Oh Far, can you come up here for a minute?".

Saving the universe would have to wait. His hands shot out and hit the secret "ALT F4" command on his keyboard. Of course, this would screw up any number of alternate and parallel universes, but who cared about them?

Mrs. Far was standing in the kitchen, balanced precariously on only 4 legs. He noted that they sported new gorn-leather shoes and he cringed. The last camapign against the Gorn had been so ineffective, the price of gorn-leather had skyrocketed. Once the secret stocks held by D'Beers were exhausted who knows what would happen?

"I need to go back out again, so you'll have to stop whatever it is you do that keeps you away and doesn't pay enough and look after the kids."

"Babysit? You realize that all that stands between us and a Mirak Teppan Table is my work and Admiral Pharoah's Plan?"

Mrs. Far placed a GornFendi bag down and soon he felt the not-so-loving embrace of an eigth anterior sucker of the 6th appendage achieve minus 22 PSI behind his ear.

" Fathers DO NOT BABYSIT, they CHILD-MIND", he was reminded, as her 7th appendage handed him a what would appear to a terran as a 1 gallon guppy aquarium filled with opaque marbles.

"Their food is in the fridge, don't forget to warm it up, AND DON"T LET THEM GET COLD"

Sweeping various items into the GornFendi bag, she strode out, the door seal closing behind her.

Once in "her" car, meaning the one Mr.Far had to keep in good repair, clean, fill with gas, carry things to and from, but never drive, Mrs. Far pulled out a cel phone she had convinced Mr. Far to buy for her 'safety' - she chucked at that one.

Pressing a series of numbers, she tucked the phone up between her legs (think octopus here guys), and waited for the W.A.N.K.E.R. crypto to synchronize...


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KBF-Kor
Ensign   posted 12-06-2001 07:35 AM                 
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Hey J'inn, go to any big supermarket and see if they have Goya products....You'll find out quick what Menudo is. To some people, it's not so bad, but for me, I think I'd rather eat my dog! 
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Chancellor KBF-Kor
IKV Sephiroth
Klingon_CW@hotmail.com
Kor@blackfleet.net
"Strength and Honor!"
--------------------------
"A man once said 'Death smiles at us all. All a man can do is smile back.'"

[This message has been edited by KBF-Kor (edited 12-06-2001).]

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Farfarer
Ensign   posted 12-06-2001 07:54 AM             
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I once went to an 'authentic' middle eastern restaurant in Chile. I swear I was served dog turds wrapped in grapevine leaves.
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Ole
Ensign   posted 12-06-2001 08:58 AM                 
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Captain Ole makes himself comfortable in the Mirak "Barkolounger". "This is a wonderful invention,I wonder why they haven't make it to Hydrax yet?" he sighs. He glances to the bikini-clad blonde Hydra nurse carrying his drink and wonders once again, first, how did Gook manage to find a bikini that fit a Hydran, and second how long the communication "blackout" with Hydrax would last. Mrs Ole wouldn't buy the "injured hero" story for too long. Especially if she got a good look at the medical facilities or a good look at all the interstellar communications floating around...
In any case, its best to be fully rested. He made himself comfortable and closed two eyes (keeping the third partially open for you-know-who, Hydran females are the quietest and deadliest of all races) to await the climatic final conclusion of the galaxy-wide mess that Sockfoot got everyone into. As he drifted to a warm slumber a single solitary thought came to mind.

"I hope that this works out well, otherwise I will personally make sure the Klingons put Socky into a 3rd class rusty freighter with a single, out-of-commission Ph-3 running Catnip on the Lyran/Mirak border with a bumper sticker saying 'Real men own dogs that eat cats', after shaving him bald (ok so he's already bald) dressing him in leather underwear (pink of course)and running him through a line of Gorns with painsticks."

ahhhh....



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Ole

"I love the smell of Hellbores in the morning..."

[This message has been edited by Ole (edited 12-06-2001).]

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J'inn
Ensign   posted 12-06-2001 09:31 AM                 
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Just for fun, while waiting for Socky's grand finale:
J'inn's jet black Audi S8 slid gracefully through the parking of the local Giant supermarket. He had traded in the Bimmer a week ago. Even the riff raff had those these days. J'inn couldn't be seen in a vehicle that was so . . . common.

Like a shark, it moved with purpose and meaning, on the hunt for a parking spot. Finding two empty spots near the back of the lot, J'inn parked the car diagonally across two slots to avoid some heathen scratching the paint.

J'inn then waited for a few moments, listening to the end of John Coltrane's "Equinox" before exiting his mobile monument to excess. Carefully, he strode across the lot towards the store, where they kept, he shuddered, dead animal parts for food. "Heathens" J'inn thought. Puffing on his Cohiba nervously, he looked back and forth as he walked. Despite the immaculate suit and Italian wingtips, some humans seemed to panic at the site of a seven foot bipedal feline with glossy white fur. "Rarely out here in the sticks however." J'inn mused. "They just figure I'm a ZZ Top wannabe in a suit."

Upon entering the store a clerk screamed. J'inn turned with a start and prepared to run like hell before some redneck decided it was cat huntin' season. Then the clerk yelled, "How dare you come in here with a cigar. You ANIMAL! Put that horrid thing out immediately!" Breathing a sigh of relief, and cussing the humans' damn anti-fun laws under his breath, J'inn tossed the cigar out the front door, turned around and headed straight for the "international foods" aisle.

Kor had sent him an odd subspace message he just had to check out. Finding the Goya section J'inn rummaged through the cans until he found one with a menudo recipe on the back.

"Hmm, lets see, beans, onion, yes, yes, blah, blah, what's this? Tripe? What the heck is tripe?" He read and thought. Quickly he pulled out his tri-corder and entered the word tripe. While doing so an immensely overweight human female, whose way J'inn's large frame was blocking, pushed her cart into him forcefully and said tersely "I said excuse me!"

Without even looking up or acknowledging the pest, J'inn stepped closer to the shelves so that the behemoth could waddle by. Afer she past, J'inn's superior hearing picked up her angry mumbling about something called a yuppie and their stupid Palm Pilots.

At that point his tri-corder gave him the answer to his inquiry. In shock he read it. "I ate that!" He yelled, and then the world went black.

The next thing J'inn knew he was lying on the floor looking up at a paramedic. "Take it easy sir, you're okay, it looks like you just fainted." The kind human said. "By the way, sir, for how long have you had this unusual hair growth? Do you have a gland problem?"

 

[Commander Maxillius]

Somehow I think this epic thread explains the whys and hows of everyone of this community... 

and I think I know why I don't remember ever seeing it before now!

It could be that I joined up in March 2002 instead of 2001.  At any rate, it's threads like this that keep me here.


I miss the epic RP threads!  It's time for a big server...... <BRAINWAVE!!!> "D.NET:  Socky's Big Adventure!"  details to come...