tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35430074772113029952024-03-05T06:28:24.018-08:00Choose Or DieChooseOrDiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11846103136271509022noreply@blogger.comBlogger127125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543007477211302995.post-35388083353375035582014-09-22T07:10:00.000-07:002014-09-22T07:11:44.493-07:00BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.6 - 3:10 TO ZXUMA<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxrXxjr0aKrwr6SgWJwbuWrbs2gublJ-RoeWCp7LHHzLUv_0QfBSvyC4nn1XtpfVo7ZZrBNV69wug8blLDMxaB1hEj4a__hRksxZT07qm6hXHvoiMPMn52rxmXzype_umH1v-wlQPWRY/s1600/SmokingTentacles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxrXxjr0aKrwr6SgWJwbuWrbs2gublJ-RoeWCp7LHHzLUv_0QfBSvyC4nn1XtpfVo7ZZrBNV69wug8blLDMxaB1hEj4a__hRksxZT07qm6hXHvoiMPMn52rxmXzype_umH1v-wlQPWRY/s1600/SmokingTentacles.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.6<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Cambria;"> - 3:10 TO ZXUMA</span></span></b></div>
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<i>by Steven Novak</i></div>
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When Garlock grabs Sally, your muscles stiffen.
Instinctively, your tentacles slither forward.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Garlock’s grip on her neck tightens. “No! Don’t you dare
take another step! Not yet! Not until I’ve said what needs to be said!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You stop moving. There’s no choice. Sally is dangling from
his tentacle, limbs flailing, fingers scraping at the slimy appendage coiled
around her neck. Garlock has the advantage. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The corners of
his lips curl upward, all fifteen eyes narrow. “You’re a worthless flick of
sniz, Rachorin! Gallivanting from system to system, spreading the appendages of
unsuspecting, innocent, foolish females! Filling them with your seed and
leaving them to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives! You’re a menace! A
cancer! A blight on the good name of our species!” <br />
<br />
“You don’t know what you’re talking about Garl…”<br />
<br />
“No!” His tentacle pulls tighter around Sally’s neck. Her eyes bulge. She tries
to scream, but she can hardly breathe. “This is not up for debate! You’re a
fizzleburn! A calavot! A hidden grizzleglorp! A gleepeldeegleep of the highest
order!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Well, you certainly can’t argue any of that.<br />
<br />
“It ends today Rachorin! I’m going kill you! I’m going to remove your organs
and paint the hull of my ship with your blood! I’m going to smear your insides
across the stars! Use your tentacles as a belt! Fashion your flesh into a vest
and wear that pretty face of your as a hat!” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Garlock pulls sally close to his face, extends his tongue
and licks her from neck to hair, coating her face in slime and smearing her
tears. “Before I do any of that, I’m going to flay this tiresome girl! You will
watch as the insides spill from her body and the life drains from her eyes! Her
suffering shall be your suffering! She will die in the name of Scarletz
Smigglezforth! And Rayden of planet Uropa! Misty Marcos of the Hightower Circle!
And Princess Adelle! And Sanelle! The lovely Sanelle! My beautiful Sanelle!”<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sanelle?<br />
<br />
Shit.</i> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You remember Sanelle. How could you forget Sanelle? The
things she did with those tentacles? The way she talked you into trying some
backdoor games for the first time in your life? Until you met Sanelle you’d
always assumed that particular hole was for removing stuff from your body. <br />
<br />
You’d never been so wrong.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sanelle was a half-pint stick of dynamite. Sanelle was a
wildcat. <br />
<br />
Garlock slimes forward, tentacles coiled, jittering. “Yes, that’s right! Now
you see! Now you understand! Sanelle was my daughter! My beautiful little girl!
A delicate flower! So innocent! So sweet! And you ruined her! Soiled her soul!
Erased the proper young lady I raised and replaced her with nothing more than a
harlot! You took advantage of her! Filled her womb with your little bastards!”<br />
<br />
The statement is so absurd you almost chuckle. You didn’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">take advantage</i> of Sanelle. If anything she <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">took advantage</i> of you. Only one of you ended up with Galorian
candles melting in your rectum while tied to the hood of your Malcordian
Speeder, and it sure as hell wasn’t her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
Sanelle was a freak.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Garlock’s limbs continue to smear their way across the sand
as he moves forward. Suddenly he’s screaming, spitting names you vaguely
remember, sexual exploits you’d long forgotten, and the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">stolen virtue </i>of his pervert daughter. At some point during his
rant he stops paying attention to Sally. It’s a rookie mistake. His emotions
have the better of him and Sally’s not as frail as she seems. She’s half your
species, half-tough, and half a fighter. She’s a hard-nosed broad and she has
more than the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">usual</i> feminine weapons
hidden beneath her dress.<br />
<br />
You watch as a slimy appendage appears from just beneath the hem of her gown,
then another. When a third tentacle emerges, it’s holding a shotgun. You’re not
exactly sure where she was hiding that thing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You aren’t sure you want to know.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The barrel of the weapon immediately goes to Garlock’s head.
She pulls the trigger. Flesh and slime spray from the flashpoint, encased in a
puff of smoke and spitting blood. Garlock yelps, headon fire, half his face
opened up, three eyeballs airborne, two more swaying in the breeze. He topples
sideways, knocks over a horse and smashes through the front door of Missy May’s
Whore Emporium. <br />
<br />
Sally’s hands go to her neck, bright red, struggling to catch her breath. She
looks in your direction, tosses you the shotgun, nods, and growls, “Go git that
bastard.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’re liking her more and more every day.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By the time you enter the Emporium, the place is a mess,
floor sticky with slime and spattered with blood, half-naked humans hiding
under tables and running into walls, penis’ flopping and boobs bouncing. The
body of a portly, gray-haired cowboy flies past your head and through the
window behind you. Garlock emerges from behind the bar, dripping blood, half
his face missing, two more humans dangling from his tentacles.<br />
<br />
“You’ve ruined everything Rachorin! Ruined it all!” <br />
<br />
One of Missy May’s finest whores slams into your chest. She’s not the biggest
girl, but she’s thrown with such force that she knocks you backward and into
the wall. You can hear her spine snap.<br />
<br />
Garlock is swinging wildly, throwing, and smashing, and screaming, aiming to
anything. Aiming for everything. He shatters a mirror, reduces a section of the
bar to splinters. “You bastard! Why her? Why did it have to be her?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The enraged bounty hunter tosses a second cowboy your way.
You reach for his boots, try your best to snag him with your tentacles, but he
slips past, slams into a tabel and cracks his skull. <br />
<br />
You have to move.<br />
<br />
Suddenly you’re charging, sliming your way across the room, dodging bottles,
and chairs, and human beings, firing rounds in Garlcok’s direction. The side of
the bounty hunter opens wide. One of his tentacles explodes. Another tears free
from his body and shoots across the room. A bottle hits you in the face. Broken
glass tears open your arm. The airborne body of a particularly beefy whore
momentarily knocks the wind out of you. Through it all you never stop shooting,
reloading and shooting again. By the time you reach Garlock you’re out of ammo
and the muzzle of your weapon is smoking. His body is a mess of shredded flesh
and slime, peppered with shrapnel, wounds gushing, insides sprayed across the
bar. <br />
<br />
The mound of mauled meat that was once his face jerks. Sticky lips quiver.
“Y-y-ou…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You can barely hear him, voice so soft, words garbled and
running together. “Y-yo-ou…go-gonn-gonna…ki…”<br />
<br />
His face explodes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few feet behind you, Sally grins, pistol still smoking in
her hand. “What exactly did you do to his daughter, Doc?”<br />
<br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">God damn she’s sexy.</i><br />
<br />
You wipe bits of Garlock’s brain from your face and smile back. “Wouldn’t you
like to know?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She lowers her gun, moves alongside you, wraps her arms and
tentacles around your waist. “Yeah…I think I would.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Two of her tentacles head south, managing to find an orifice
that hasn’t been used since Sanelle and worming their way inside. Her head
moves to yours, lips to your ear. “I think I’d like that very much.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
THE END</div>
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ChooseOrDiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11846103136271509022noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543007477211302995.post-12334186951976865582014-09-19T07:12:00.000-07:002014-09-19T07:12:24.213-07:00BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.5 - DEAD<br />
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<br /></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i>by Christine Butler</i></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><br /></i></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 19px; line-height: 21px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"></span></span></div>
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</div>
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<!--StartFragment-->
</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You sigh
and look around at the people you have been living with for the past few Earth
years. Even the ones that knew what you were accepted you, and for that you're
grateful. Seeing Sally in Garlock's grasp is what tipped the scales though.
There's no way you can leave her to that fate. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Fine.
I'll come with you, but you need to let Sally, and all these people,
free." You tip your head back to indicate the humans you're now trying to
protect. It is your deepest hope that your sacrifice will not be in vein.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Garlock
laughs at you, spewing shit in streaming hot sprays as he does. "You think
this is a negotiation? You think I'm here to leave anyone behind? You are being
spared only to help with the brood you stuck the Queen's niece with. I've been
ordered to bring back any of our kind, hybrids included. The rest..."
Garlock motioned to indicate the humans lingering about on the fringes.
"They've all seen too much. There won't be anything left of them in the end.
You might get off easy though."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Damn,"
you mumble under your breath. You know now that it's time to fight or die. You
notice that Garlock's men now have the place completely surrounded and you
don't stand a chance in hell of getting these people out of here unscathed.
Sally's passed out, or maybe dead, and still in Garlock's grasp. It's time to
just hang your hat and forget about the wasteland that is Earth. Maybe one day
you will be able to come back and find out what happened to your... friends.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You hold
your tentacles outward in a sign of submission, and hang your head low, utterly
defeated. This is not the way you envisioned things going. Garlock whips out
one of his enlarged main tentacles, and wraps it around you, so that you have
been both immobilized and covered in a thick layer of the shitty mucus he
produces. Your nasal openings burn with the fetid stench, as you are
transported to the ship that will take you to your home world and the royal
palace of your kind.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You
awaken, after being put to sleep for the ride home, to find that Garlock's shit
stench no longer permeates the air around you. Instead, you smell the fresh
aroma of moon powdered tentacles. "I smell babies." The words leave
your mouth before you can even take in your surroundings. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Indeed
you do." The Queen is looking down on you with a smug expression.
"You thought you could have your way with my niece and not have to pay the
price?" She throws her head back and cackles, which has more of a gargle
sound to it, as the mucus membranes in her throat rattle about with the
gesture. "Have you ever wondered where King Randalth or King Blagrath got
off to?" she questions you.<a href="" name="_GoBack"></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Now that
she mentions it, you had wondered why the hell there had been so many kings in
your short life. There were always jokes that the Queen going through the
birthing process of her younglings was the death of each of them, but everyone
joked about that. It didn't make things true.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
gargle-cackle came again as the Queen continued. "Royal babies cannot survive
without a proper feeding. We've managed to keep them sated for now, but they
need their daddy to feed them."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You back
away from the Queen until you come up against the back wall of the room.
"No." You shake your head, and your tentacles start waving around
erratically as the fear gets the better of you. "That can't be..."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">"Oh,
but it is." The queen says as she turns to leave the room. Before she
goes, she pushes a button on the wall that releases a gas into the room. It
makes you feel a little woozy, like your tentacles weigh you down and are too
heavy for you to move again. "What... is.... hap...pen...ing?" Your
words sound, to your own ears, as if they are being played in slow motion. The
Queen is gone, but you swear you can still hear her cackle-gargle echoing in
her wake. Then four panels in the wall slide open, and through them come your
brood, and they look starved. You hope it's affection they're starving for, but
when the first one bites down on your heavy tentacle, you know. All the stories
were true. Royals feed on the flesh of their fathers. A scream escapes you, and
then another, as your spawn tear into your flesh with their razor sharp teeth.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">In all
your dreams of glory and adventure, you never once thought it would end like
this. You have been eaten to death by your own spawn.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment--></span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
ChooseOrDiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11846103136271509022noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543007477211302995.post-10181274951002889902014-09-09T09:21:00.001-07:002014-09-09T09:21:53.640-07:00BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.5 - LONG SHADOWS ACROSS MULDER'S LOT<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.5 - </span></b><b><span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24px;">LONG SHADOWS AT MULDER'S LOT</span></b></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
<i>by Annie Evett</i></div>
</div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21px;"></span></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">
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<!--StartFragment-->
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Garlock’s
face oozes as he smirk. “Got me self a perdy one here.” Another tentacle
slithered over Sally’s struggling body. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;"><span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial;">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Now what
do yer look like under all them undergarments; and I ain’t talking about your
clothes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Leave
her out of this Garlock. It’s got nothing to do with her or…” as you sweep your
arm across the scene, “ Any of these humans. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let’s settle our differences Intergalactic style. Mano to
Mano.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">”Intergalactic
style?” Garlock roars with laughter. “Mano to Mano? You dumb shit. You are in
the wrong century to be using that lingo.” A tentacle tightens across Sally’s
chest as another strokes her ringlets. She continues to struggle but you see
her human form is beginning to fail. Garlock lifts her up and brings her closer
to his enormous face. A rough tongue extends from his grotesque mouth and,
dripping with green saliva, delicately touches her brow. She attempts to squirm
away, but her thrashing weakens.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Hmm
hybrid, My favourite type of relief. Just what I need after I kill you
Rachorin.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Sally’s
face begins to drain of colour. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“You’re
killing her. Stop! I’m the one you are after.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Garlcok’s
tentacles relax a little. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Got a
soft spot for this one? Just like the Queens little niece huh? I could kill you
with most of my tentacle tied behind my back, while I’m holding this youngun
and still not raise an ooze. Do yourself a favour Rachorin, come peacefully and
I won’t destroy all the humans; but I get to keep my toys.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">His
tongue flickers across Sally’s lips. She appears to have gone limp. You suppose
she has passed out as you register her oxygen intake and heartbeats as being
normal. You notice her eyelids fluttering. She is still conscious. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">What was
she up to?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You have
not time to ponder the mind of a woman, hybrid or not. A steaming shot of shit
screams past you as you twist elegantly out of the way. The load smashes its
way through the General Store window. Garlock growls at you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Enough
chit chat and playing. Tick Tock, Times a wasting. Are yer man enough to stand
there and take what’s coming to yer? Please start a fight, the Queen will be
pissed I killed you, but I’ll sure enjoy it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Garlock
tests a tentacle up Sally’s nostril. You cringe as it slithers further into her
nose and exits from the other. She doesn’t move a muscle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Hmm.
I’ll play with this one later.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">His
tentacles release Sally onto the dusty street. Petticoats and frills flutter in
the slight breeze. One of the townsfolk coughs and a chair scrapes across the
flooring behind you. A projectile of shit streams out from one of Garlock’s
tentacles, knocking over the man who attempted to stand up. One of your hidden
eyes registers that it was the preacher. Smothered in steaming shit, you see he
is still clutching his bible and had attempted to raise the cross which
normally hung around his neck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Stupid
move. However, your respect for the man of religion has just doubled. He
wriggles and splutters, but no-one dares to move from their positions to assist
him, for fear of the same treatment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
stench of the shit laying around the main street and Garlock’s mountainous body
odour reaches new heights. You'd better get this done. Your eyes twitch, hoping
your crew are in place and remember the drill. You pull at your human skin and
begin to peel it away to reveal your true form. Sudden intakes of breath and
prayers are whispered behind you as the townsfolk see you for the first time.
Your glossy skin ripples. What you don’t make up with size, you are more than
adequate in pure unrestrained muscle, sexual energy; and you certainly haven’t
had any complaints from your partners. You admire one of your own tentacles and
think briefly about the Queens niece. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Garlock
lifts a thick tentacle holding a laser-powered sonic blaster. You get
distracted as you gawk at the new technology and design. Stroking it tenderly
with a smaller tentacle, Garlock sneers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“The
Queen gave it to me special. Made me turn it to stun, so’s I can bring yer back
to her and she will deal with you. He he he. If it were me, I’d let you kill
me. You’re not gunna last long when the Queen gets a hold of you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He flicks
a switch and a blue light streams through the circuitry of the inside of the
gun, giving Garlock an eerie glow. He taps at it playfully.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Awww.
Seems the stun option don’t work. Oh, and I lied about the townfolk here.
You’re all gunna die.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">From the
side, Sally screams with a raw energy so guttural, so passionate, even Garlock
stops for a second. But that was all she needs. A stiletto knife she had
secreted in her undergarments swiftly comes to hand, and is flung across the
dusty space, finding its target in one of his 20 eyes. Puss and green ooze bust
frothing from the wound. Garlock clutches it and let off the blaster, slicing
the hotel’s roof and setting fire to the stable. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Town
folk, once paralysed with fear, now find their feet and scatter, knocking chairs
and tables across the street. Sally rips at her dress and pulls at her skin.
She begins to transform. You are secretly impressed and find her even more
attractive in her hybrid Malarian form. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Oh shit.
Really? Not now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You pulse
one of your tentacles in the hope she notices your bulging…..Malarianhood;
instantly forgetting the environment you have placed yourself in. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">No wonder
Malarian males don’t die of old age.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Sally
storms toward Garlock ducking and weaving his attempts to capture her in his
tentacles. Her smaller, more nimble hybrid form has taken on all the positive
factors of each species. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She is
poetry in motion. Your tongue swells with desire. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Garlock’s
blaster fires indiscriminately, resulting in more fires and larger holes within
the buildings of the town. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Your
pulses are raised and you position your body in an alluring way towards Sally.
Somewhere in your brain, you remember you are supposed to be doing something;
but when the attraction procedure starts, your species can’t stop until mating
has occurred.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You
thrust one of your lower tentacles toward her in a manner no other Malarian
female has been able to resist. <a href="" name="_GoBack"></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A burning
sensation cuts into your feverish mind. You block it and begin the traditional
Malarian mating whistle. Sally turns to stare at you. You see her mouth
beginning to open and you grin, knowing you have her full attention and lust.
The last thing you see is a succession of laser bolts streaming from Garlock’s
blaster as she fails to wrench it from his grasp.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment--></span></div>
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ChooseOrDiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11846103136271509022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543007477211302995.post-74207264346199362292014-09-01T06:36:00.000-07:002014-09-01T06:36:24.094-07:00BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.5 - HIGH NOON AT MULDER'S LOT<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxrXxjr0aKrwr6SgWJwbuWrbs2gublJ-RoeWCp7LHHzLUv_0QfBSvyC4nn1XtpfVo7ZZrBNV69wug8blLDMxaB1hEj4a__hRksxZT07qm6hXHvoiMPMn52rxmXzype_umH1v-wlQPWRY/s1600/SmokingTentacles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxrXxjr0aKrwr6SgWJwbuWrbs2gublJ-RoeWCp7LHHzLUv_0QfBSvyC4nn1XtpfVo7ZZrBNV69wug8blLDMxaB1hEj4a__hRksxZT07qm6hXHvoiMPMn52rxmXzype_umH1v-wlQPWRY/s1600/SmokingTentacles.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.5 - </span></b><b><span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 24px;">HIGH NOON AT MULDER'S LOT</span></b></div>
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<i>by Mandy Ward</i></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">It doesn’t take you long
to realise that the Sheriff is right. “Damn.” You grumble as you take the
bridge back up and return the saloon to an approximation of normal. “You sure
you want me to do this? It could kill as many as it could save.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The sheriff chuckles.
“If’n you’re right about this Garlock, then that’s more than he’d leave alive.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Taking a deep breath you
look at Sally. “I want you to go to the mine. Talk to my second in command,
Veezlbez. Tell him that he was right all along and that we’re going to need to
take Garlock down.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">She nods reluctantly. “You
want me to go now?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">You return the nod, trying
very hard to ignore the flashing light under the bar. “Tell him to step on it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">She smiles and runs out of
the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">You wonder if she’ll
return with Veezlbez and the rest of the crew or high tail it out of town and
save her own skin. Obscurely, you hope that it’s the latter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“What’d we need to do
doc?” the sheriff asks, trying not to move his shoulder.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">You sigh and slither over.
“Let me look at that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">He nods and looks away as
you bring one of your smaller tentacles toward the wound. A quick jab and
wriggle later, you’ve extracted the bullet. Using your inbuilt anaesthetic, antiseptic
glue, you clean and close the hole.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The sheriff looks at it.
“See. You’n the Doc still. I dint feel a thing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Shrugging you move back
behind the bar. “Go round up the men folk. Tell the women and children to hide
in the storm cellars. If this works, they’ll be okay to come up in a day or
two. If not, then they’d best be able for a long stay.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The sheriff looks worried.
“How long a stay?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">About a hundred years</span></i><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">. You think and decide to
lie. “Food and water for a month at least.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“How long have they got to
prepare?” he moves towards the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">You glance down at the
display next to the flashing light. “Between four and ten hours. It all depends
on if he decides to land his ship or beam down.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The sheriff goes white and
runs out of the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Three hours later, you’ve
set everything up in the saloon. All the computational work is done and all you
need now are the extras. You decide to don Doc’s skin one last time, just to
make life easier.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The saloon door swings
open. Veezlbez and the rest of the crew slip inside, looking green around the
gills. Wonder of wonders, they’ve managed creditable human costumes. And no
Sally.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Where’d you want us,
Boss?” Veezlbez asks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“You come and sit at the
bar, Vee. Security, dot yourselves around the perimeter and the rest of you
pick a seat anywhere.” You watch with relief as they jump into action and
settle themselves.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“You want to do what we
discussed on the way into this pokey planet, Boss?” Vee asks, toying with the
glass of Malrovian Whisky you pour him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“As close as I can.” You
pour yourself a shot and toss it back. The alcohol makes Vee’s face blur and
double for a second. “Whoowee, that hit the spot.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The Sheriff wanders in,
the men of the town following him and looking around nervously. You direct them
to sit anywhere that is left and then check the display under the counter.
“He’s come to a halt in orbit, Vee. He’ll be beaming down. You ready for this?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Your second in command
nods and swallows the whisky. “Now or never, Boss.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">You stand up on the Bar.
“Gentlemen, we are about to have a visitor to this fair planet. You may have
heard rumours of what I look like under this costume,” you pull at the skin
you’re wearing, making it gape for a second around the eyes. “But this fella is
three times as bad.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The crowd mumble amongst
themselves.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“All I want you human
folks to do is be scenery. Sit, drink, chat. It’sall you need to do. My crew
will do all the dangerous stuff.” You feel the tentacles at the back of your
neck buzz. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">He’s here.</i> “Just ignore
the bloke and let me deal with it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The humans seem relieved
that they don’t have to do anything dangerous or scary. You send one of your
crew round with a tray of glasses and the weakest whisky you possess. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Can’t have one of them getting brave-drunk
and squaring off with Garlock.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">A voice rumbles in from
the street. “Rachorin. Come out here and face me.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">You step up to the doors,
Vee selecting security team members to back you up. “Garlock, nice to smell you
again.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Outisde in the street,
wearing a long tan duster and a black ten gallon Stetson, is the largest
Golgothan you have ever seen. His skin oozes and flows as he moves in your
direction and he leaves a trail of shit behind deep enough to mire a mule.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Get out here, Rachorin.”
The creature sounds irritated. “You’ve moved from star system to star system
for the last four hundred cycles. Haven’t you got tired of running yet?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Not a bit.” You reply.
Behind your back you give the signal for your crew to surround the faecal
intruder. “I’m far younger than you and a lot speedier. What was your best oozing
time? Forty microns?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Enough. Come quietly and
I’ll let this miserable planet survive the blast from my engines.” All twenty
of Garlock’s piss coloured eyes take in the surroundings. “If you don’t, then I
reckon the Earth is about to become toasted Veedlebaz.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Shrugging, you step out
onto the veranda. “I’m not coming with you. I’ve done nothing wrong.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Sleeping with the Queen’s
niece is nothing? Shit man, you got some nerve.” Garlock roars with laughter.
“You’re a father four times over.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“You should know, you are
the shit after all.” You agree, checking where everyone is with a couple of
handy hidden eyes. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Four times over? I
knew my sperm was strong but that many?</i> You shudder, your costume rippling
over your body.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Your crew have worked
themselves around to safe positions around the foul smelling pile of excrement.
Garlock spots most of them and one long rope of shit flings out and captures a
figure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; line-height: 150%; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Your Heart sinks all the
way into your feet. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sally.</i></span></div>
<!--EndFragment--></div>
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ChooseOrDiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11846103136271509022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543007477211302995.post-19876639674796841992014-08-28T08:56:00.000-07:002014-08-28T08:56:19.233-07:00BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.4 - BURY THEM WITH THEIR TENTACLES ON<br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.4 - </span></b><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">BURY THEM WITH THEIR
TENTACLES ON</span></b></div>
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<!--EndFragment--><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i>by James McShane</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
sheriff nurses his wound and throws you a look that suggests you’re off his
Christmas card list for the foreseeable future. You shrug. You weren’t the type
for Ho-Ho-Ho anyway. You have an important decision to make, though, and with
Garlock on his way, you don’t have much time to think things through.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“As far
as I can tell, sheriff,” you say, “you have two choices.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“And what
are they, pray tell?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“You can
stay here and die; or leave and possibly live.” You shrug. “Your call.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
sheriff<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>hightails it out the
saloon door. You then begin the process of dismantling the saloon’s interior
and turning it back into your ship, by simply tapping the bottom of a beer tap
with a serving spoon. This act opens a drawer beneath the counter, revealing a
big red button that reads: Disengage Saloon Interior. Simple really. Once you
press that, it’s all systems go.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
entire procedure takes about three minutes. Then another button gets pressed, the
one labelled Lift Off, and within a moment, you are in the air and on your way
to the mine. If the sheriff and everyone else got clear, good for them. If not,
you’re not going to lose any sleep. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You look
to the floor and see that Sally is out for the count. The activities of the
last hour or so must have taken its toll on the young female. You wonder what
you’re going to do about her, but eventually decide to leave her for later.
It’s now time to remove all dead weight from the ground – and do it quickly.
While Sally didn’t give you an exact schedule, you assume that Garlock won’t
waste any time in getting here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You make
it to the mine quick enough. You manoeuvre the ship so as you’re above the
entry point and you aim the ship’s guns there. You set phasers to kill.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“So long,
suckers,” you chortle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And then
it all goes pear-shaped. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Not only
has Sally woken up and is now pointing her own phaser at you (you should have
taken the time to check her underclothes – women of all species have been known
to hide anything in their pantaloons), but there is a rumble coming from the
inside the mine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Open a
radio channel,” Sally says. “You might be interested in what you hear next.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Seeing
that you don’t have much of a choice, you tap yet another button and a screen
appears in front of you. A shimmering image appears, but it doesn’t take you
long to realise that it’s Nee-Lin, the leader of the slave group down at the
mine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Rachorin,”
the former slave says. “I see you’ve come back to rescue us.” The sarcasm drips
fiercely from his lips. “But you needn’t bother. We’ve worked out our own
escape plan.” With that, the rumbling down below becomes more intense, and
within minutes, the mine’s exterior falls away and you finally understand that
while you were ministering the town’s inhabitants, your slaves have been
building their own ship, using – be damned – the very material you sent them to
mine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Talk
about taking your eye off the ball.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Or your
eyes off the balls.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Are you
coming, Lestine?” Nee-Lin calls Sally by her given name.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I
thought you’d never ask,” she says. She gives you a quick peck on the top of
your head. “We could’ve been good together,” she whispers. “But no, you always
had your own agenda.” Then it’s her turn to shimmer, as Nee-Lin teleports
Sally/Lestine back to the mine that is now an escape ship.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Your
number is up. You look at the screen for the final time as a group of missiles
head your way. If you had a god, you’d pray to it. But you don’t, so you don’t.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Time to die. </span></div>
<!--EndFragment--></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
ChooseOrDiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11846103136271509022noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543007477211302995.post-53792628391088676912014-08-21T07:39:00.000-07:002014-08-21T07:39:35.012-07:00BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.4 - GLEEPGLORP'S LAMENT<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxrXxjr0aKrwr6SgWJwbuWrbs2gublJ-RoeWCp7LHHzLUv_0QfBSvyC4nn1XtpfVo7ZZrBNV69wug8blLDMxaB1hEj4a__hRksxZT07qm6hXHvoiMPMn52rxmXzype_umH1v-wlQPWRY/s1600/SmokingTentacles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxrXxjr0aKrwr6SgWJwbuWrbs2gublJ-RoeWCp7LHHzLUv_0QfBSvyC4nn1XtpfVo7ZZrBNV69wug8blLDMxaB1hEj4a__hRksxZT07qm6hXHvoiMPMn52rxmXzype_umH1v-wlQPWRY/s1600/SmokingTentacles.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.4 - GLEEPGLORP'S LAMENT</span></b><br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i>by Steven Novak</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The sheriff is sprawled out on the ground, one hand cupping
the wound on his shoulder, mustache slightly curled, a shit-eating grin spread
across his stupid face. <br />
<br />
He staggers to his feet with a grunt. “Heh.
I told ya, Doc. Whatever you were before ya landed here is good n’ gone. Yer a
part of this town, ya hear? There’s sand in yer blood, Earth dirt beneath your
fingers, and whiskey in yer veins.” <br />
<br />
His hand falls to your shoulder, fingers sliding across the slimy surface of
the tentacle draped lazily over your shoulder. “Yer a saddle tramp, Doc. Raised
on salt lick and browned by the sun of the south. There’s a giddy-up in yer
step the likes of which I ain’t seen in damn near a hoolywang.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Suddenly he’s smiling so bright he’s flashing the few teeth
has left. His free hand lands on your other shoulder and gives it a pat. “And
ya ain’t no yellow-belly varmint. I know ya ain’t about to vamoose n’ let the
people of this town go up the spout. Yer better than that. Yer a healer, a
dealer, and a hell of a card player. We’re yer friends.”<br />
<br />
His hands slide up your neck and to your face, cupping your cheeks. He nods
like he’s known you for years, like he’s your best friend, and your mother, and
childhood pal GleebGlorp all rolled into one. “We’re yer family.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He’s an idiot.<br />
<br />
While he was busy nodding and waxing nostalgic about the one time you played
poker, one of your tentacles was making its way up his back, heading for his
neck. Before he can continue his babbling, you shut him up. Your tentacle wraps
around his neck. Your muscles tighten. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His stupid head pops off. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Free from his body and airborne his head spins, spurting
blood in every direction, shattered spine wiggling like a horses tail. It
bounces off a table across the room and crashes into a monitor. When it finally
comes to a stop, you notice the expression on the sheriff’s face. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He’s not smiling anymore.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When Sally screams you crack her in the chops, knock her
into the wall, and put her to sleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There’s no reason to kill her. She might still be good for something.
Weird half-human sex, maybe? She seemed pretty handy with those whips. So what
if she double-crossed you? So what if she used her womanly wares to get the
better of you? Made you look silly? Hurt your pride? Dented your ego? So what
if she took advantage of you when you were at your lowest? When you falsely
believed this backnebula planet and it’s backnebula lifeforms actually had
something to offer? So what if GleepGlorp would’ve been ashamed of what you’ve
become? So what if you do…<br />
<br />
On second thought, fluuonk her.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Your tentacles dig into her chest, peel back her ribs and
tear out her half-breed heart. It’s gross, not quite human and not quite you.
It’s pink and purple, and speckled green. It’s an abomination.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her father should be ashamed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Fluuonk them all.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
With a few tweaks of the levers and dials in front of you
the saloon unfolds from your ship once again, crushing three or four slack-jawed
locals in the process.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Fluuonk them too.</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You don’t need this place, or these creatures. You never
did. You only became a “doctor” because you found it hilariously ironic. You
don’t save stuff. You kill stuff. You’ve always killed stuff. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
The blood from Sally and Sheriff begins to pool at your feet, green and red,
human and alien, and all sort of nastiness. It’s going to be a pain in one of
your three rectums to clean up. Still, it was worth it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>GleepGlorp would be
proud. </i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
By the time you exit the saloon the locals are have already
gathered. Some of them are pointing guns in your direction. Others are cowering
behind barrels or peeking through windows. A lot of them are screaming.<br />
<br />
You’d roll your eyes, but its more effort than they’re worth. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’re going to do what you should have done long ago.
You’re going to corral these creatures like they corral the lifeforms lower
than them. You’re going to strip them bare, shackle them, and teach them a
rather harsh lesson about hubris, and their place in the universe, and the
grand scheme of things. It’s long overdue. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A rock hits your head. Another bounces off your chest. One
of them unloads a shotgun in your direction and it ricochets off the Rumanetic
Forcefield you’ve erected around your body. Another fires his revolver. Three
of his friends follow his lead. It takes nearly a minute and a half of
pointless shooting before they realize it’s accomplishing nothing. When the
shooting stops, old Mildred McGraw chucks her cat.<br />
<br />
<i>Oh yes, this is so incredibly overdue.
</i><br />
<br />
As you move from the saloon and into the street, your tentacles spread in every
direction, tips twitching, suction cups drooling. “Now that you’ve gotten that
out of your system.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hansen McGillicutty lunges at you from behind, knife raised,
gritting through yellow-stained teeth and a beard in desperate need of a trim.
“Ya son of a bitch! Gonna gut yer hear…”<br />
<br />
He slams into your forcefield face-first, smashes his nose and chokes on his
own blood. You rip his arm from his torso and use it to knock Mildred McGraw on
her ass.<br />
<br />
<i>That’s for the cat.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Most of the crowd screams. Some of them start to cry. A few
of them run. You extend a second forcefield further down the block and chuckle
when they slam into it. <br />
<br />
<i>GleepGlorp would have loved that.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When they realize there’s nowhere to go and nothing to do, most
of the crowd gives up, staring in your direction with unbelieving eyes. The
time has come. The end is near. Those that believe in God, have come to the
grim realization that you are it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
It’s almost enough to make you grin. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Most of you probably know me as Doc, but that is a foolish
title, given by foolish lifeforms, on a shphithole planet at the ass-end of the
universe. I am tired of tending to you. I’m sick of doing my best to heal your
injures! I’m sick of pretending that I care what happens to your fragile
bodies!”<br />
<br />
You point to a skinny man near the back of the crowd. “You, Charles Smith! I
inserted my finger into your rectum to check your prostate! I did that! That’s
something I did to keep you from learning what I was! Do you have any idea how humiliating
that was for me? Do you?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before Charles can respond you knock him through the window
of a dress shop.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I am through! My days of seeing to your sniffles, and
coughs, and pains are history! The time has come for you to learn your place!
To be treated like the ghastly, poorly constructed, weak-bodies monstrosities
you are! The time has come for you to clean my bedpan! To bring me food! To
stick your fingers in my rectum! The time has come to lear…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The saloon behind you explodes, transforming into a fireball
of splintered wood, and scaled steel, shooting in every direction. The inferno
engulfs everything, scatters the crowd, tossing bodies, and removing limbs,
bathing the street in blood and cooking flesh. The forcefield falls from your
body. When you hit the dirt you hit hard. When you hit it again, you hit
harder. For a moment you’re spinning, caught in the blaze, surrounded by fire
and smoke, unable to determine up from down, tips of your tendrils on fire. You
don’t stop spinning until you hit a horse, knock it over and wind up waist deep
in its trough.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before you open your eyes you hear the familiar hum of a
ship, hovering somewhere above, obscured by the smoke and debris. Trexlarion
Panels shift. Energy weapons recharge. <i>The
bounty hunter.</i> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You forgot about the damn bounty hunter.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You don’t see the shot that blasts you to atoms. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
GleepGlorp would be ashamed.</div>
<!--EndFragment--></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
ChooseOrDiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11846103136271509022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543007477211302995.post-60681079276599286842014-08-18T15:00:00.000-07:002014-08-18T15:08:30.801-07:00BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.4 - TOO MUCH SASS FOR SARSAPARILLA<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxrXxjr0aKrwr6SgWJwbuWrbs2gublJ-RoeWCp7LHHzLUv_0QfBSvyC4nn1XtpfVo7ZZrBNV69wug8blLDMxaB1hEj4a__hRksxZT07qm6hXHvoiMPMn52rxmXzype_umH1v-wlQPWRY/s1600/SmokingTentacles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxrXxjr0aKrwr6SgWJwbuWrbs2gublJ-RoeWCp7LHHzLUv_0QfBSvyC4nn1XtpfVo7ZZrBNV69wug8blLDMxaB1hEj4a__hRksxZT07qm6hXHvoiMPMn52rxmXzype_umH1v-wlQPWRY/s1600/SmokingTentacles.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.4 - TOO MUCH SASS FOR SARSAPARILLA</span></b></div>
</div>
</div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i>by Ryan Hunter</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i>
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</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12pt;">You feel Sally’s chains dig into your
shoulders as your true self begins to emerge. You’re shocked to discover how
much you don’t want that to happen. It’s been too long since you were Rachorin,
you want to continue thinking he no longer exists. You want to be Doc.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“Sally,” you whisper, one last chance. “I know you think you know what you’re
doing here, but…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“Oh, I know exactly what I’m doing,” Sally whispers into your ear, licking your
earlobe as she does.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
You don’t have to hear the popping of the chains to know that you are well and
more beyond the point of return.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
Sally jumps as a broken link careens off of her cheek, leaving a small cut just
below her eye. “What… what are…?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
You stare down at her through Rachorin’s eyes, as you grow she seems to shrink.
Your brow grows, expanding out and around, large green tentacles slither over
your shoulders as your feet grow to a point. When the transformation is
complete you look every inch a green cowboy with ten-gallon hat and green
flowing duster made of tentacles.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“I don’t… I didn’t…” Sally stammers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“Daddy never showed you his true form,” you say, already wondering why you’d
been so concerned for this ridiculous, mousy thing only a moment ago. Of course
you’re still going to be having your way with her shortly, but worrying about
her seems quite a waste of time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“You can’t… he’s, he’s coming for you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“So you said. Reckon we’d best be leaving then, huh?” A tentacle flashes and
wraps around Sally’s waist. You pull her to you and tuck her under your massive
arm before walking out of your office.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“Hells bells,” a voice grumbles to your left.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“Howdy Sheriff,” you mutter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“Doc,” the sheriff says.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
You turn slowly to face him. “Ain’t Doc no more.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“So I see.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
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“You planning on giving me trouble?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
The Sheriff opens his mouth but before he can speak an explosion erupts to his
right. Acting on its own, your tentacle flies out and bats at the bullet fired
back Slack Harry sending it back the way it came. Slack Harry screams and drops
to the ground.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
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“That didn’t need to happen,” you say to the sheriff. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Without comment the sherrif turns toward his fallen friend and you take the
opportunity to make your escape.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
Still carrying Sally under your arm you enter the saloon. Instantly the dancing
and card playing stop and all eyes fall on you. “Out,” you say softly but you
do not have to repeat yourself. The place empties.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
You drop Sally to the floor and walk behind the bar and smile at the setup. No
one had ever heard of taps until good Ole’ Doc came to town and built them up a
fine new saloon why, dang near over night. In fact, it had only taken him the
press of a single button to extend the bridge of your space craft up out of the
ground where you’d buried it and then convert it into the rootinest, tootinest
saloon in five counties.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
Now you spin the taps 180 degrees, once again turning them into levers needed
to run your ship. You reach behind yourself, knocking the bottles of whiskey to
the floor until your hand falls on the dustiest gin bottle on the shelf,
forgotten by all, just like it was supposed to be. You pull that and the entire
saloon descends into the ground and your awaiting ship.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“Will you please tell me what is happening?” Sally begs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“You say ‘HE’ is coming for me. Do you know who he is?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“What? I don’t know… he’s… he’s a lawman… from space.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“Close, he’s Garlock, he’s a bounty hunter. He’s been looking for me for a long
while.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“Why would he be chasing an innocent man?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“I’m not a man, Darlin’. And I’m a country mile from innocent. Something you
should keep in mind, Sheriff.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
Sally gasps and turns her head. Unlike you, she hadn’t heard the sheriff enter
just before you pulled the bridge into the ship although how she missed his
clomping you have no idea. Already you’re forgetting the limitations of human
ears.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“Well, I do reckon that’s something worth tucking away in the old hat, Doc.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“Doc’s not here, there never was no Doc.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“You see, that’s just the thing, I believe there was.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“You are mistaken.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“I might just be. Seein’ as I’m in this situation with you though, mayhap
you’ll clue me in on yer plan. I’m guessin’ you’d like to be puttin’ our fair
town behind ya but seeing as your crew’s upp up to the ole’ mine I’m not sure
how you’re planning on doing that.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“Ship doesn’t need a crew. All they were good for was cleaning up and the
occasional cannon fodder. I’ve half a mind to just level the ole’ mine before I
go so none of them will tell any tales.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“You’d do that to your own people?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“Do they look like my people? They’re a slave race from one of the moons of my
planet. You’ve seen them, they’re not much good for anything other than target
practice. Kind of like humans. Maybe I’ll take a few of your good town’s folk
with me in exchange for my former slaves.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“Or maybe you stay and fight.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“Excuse me?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
The sheriff takes a step toward you. “You say you ain’t Doc, that no part of
him is still in you. I don’t believe that. What I do believe is that this
bounty hunter you say’s coming for you ain’t gonna believe you took off right
before he got here. I believe he’s going to level my town looking for you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“You’ll be lucky if he’s satisfied with just the town.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“That’s what I figured. We’re gonna need some help on this.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
You sigh and stare down at the sheriff. He’s sharp this one he connects dots
all on his own. You hate to admit it but you have some respect for the insect.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“Look, the only other Malarian on this dustball is laying dead in my office. If
Miss Sally could have kept her shoes on her feet instead of jamming one into
her old man’s eye, together we might, MIGHT, have stood a fighting chance. As
it is, you’re welcome to join us, but that’s all the help I can offer you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“I really hate to have to do this. I can’t tell you how much I do,” the sheriff
says, pulling his piece.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">
“Put that away, Sheriff,” you say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
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The sheriff fires and again your tentacle flashed, bating the slug back at him.
He drops the revolver and backs away two steps, clutching at his shoulder.
“That was what I thought,” he said through clenched teeth. “Right in the
shoulder just like Slack Harry. You coulda just killed me there but yeh didn’t.
You may say Doc ain’t in there no place, but I think he’s more a part o’ ya
then you know.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: black; font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><br /></span></div>
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You stare at the wounded man for a long time, wondering about your next move.<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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ChooseOrDiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11846103136271509022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543007477211302995.post-27631885080103540902014-08-12T07:23:00.000-07:002014-08-12T07:23:23.458-07:00BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.3 - DIE ANOTHER DEATH<br />
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.3 - DIE ANOTHER DEATH</span></b></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i>by Mandy Ward</i></div>
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<i><br /></i></div>
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</div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial;">After squirming and
slithering around for a bit, the chains, blindfold and gag are no longer an
issue.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Sally stares at you. “But…
I thought… you were a…”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“A what?” you ask, rising
up on four of your eight tentacles to tower over her. “A hybrid like you?” you
laugh. “I am so much more than that.”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Using the other four
tentacles, you simultaneously chain Sally up, undress and flay the body of her
father, then wrap the remains in the sheet, stowing it untidily under a bench
near the back of the office, a blood trail leading from the table to the bench.</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Sally looks at the neatly
flayed skin you hold in one tentacle. “What are you going to do with that?”</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I’m going to walk out of
here.” You change back to human form and then extend your tongue tentacle to
the skin. With a bit of concentration you reshape your human form to the
genetic pattern held in the skin and change the skin’s form to match your
original one.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;">Throwing the skin at her
feet, you smile. “Try explaining that one.”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;">“But they’ll hang me for
murder!” She looks at you, horrified as you gently put the gag into place.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;">“Yes, yes they will.” You
dress yourself in her father’s clothes, leaving your normal clothes piled on the
floor suggestively. “And you deserve it.”</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;">Stopping beside the door,
you listen to what is going on in the street. There appears to have been a
cessation of the fight the sheriff was orchestrating so you decide to make your
break for it.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;">Stepping boldly out of the
door, you tip your hat to Sally “Thank you for the relief, Ma’am.” And shut the
door behind you.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;">You unwrap the reins of
your horse from the rail and mount, moving confidently and ignoring anyone else
in the street.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;"><i>Vmmmmmmm….</i></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 24px;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 24px;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><i>Oh shit.</i></span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"> You think as you turn
your head to see a seven foot tall figure in a long black coat and dusty black
Stetson. “You. Hello Hunter.”</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;">“It’s been a long time,
Rachorin.” The figure waves a gun. “Get down off that horse and move over to
the middle of the street, nice and slowly.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;">“I’m not going back.” You
say, staying where you are.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;">“Your Father insists.” The
figure says, aiming the laser at you. “Get off the horse. I really don’t like
killing dumb animals.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;">Tentacles whip out from
under the coat, taking you by surprise and yanking you off the horse, holding
you with one leg. The figure grins, sharp teeth gleaming in the sunlight as it
shakes you around.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;">“So much for just walking
out of here.” You sigh and change form, your tentacles wrestling with his like
a pair of octopi sharing a peanut butter jar. “Let go.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;">“No. I don’t have to take
all of you back to your father remember.” The figure’s grin splits his head in
half. “A single tentacle will be enough to clone you.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;">You feel the sharp burst
of pain as he shoots and severs one of your tentacles. He scoops the tentacle
up, deposits it into a stasis jar and puts the jar into his coat pocket. “That
should do it.”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;">You blink. “what now?”</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;">His grin disappears. “How
about we see how fast you can run?” He aims the laser at the dirt in front of
you and fires, the heat of the blast cooking the dirt into solid clay.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 24px;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 24px;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">In this form, not particularly fast. </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">You gulp and
change back to human form. Only to realise half way through the change, that
the tentacle Hunter shot off was the one that formed your human head.</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; line-height: 24px;">The last thing you see is
the street fading into black and Hunter taking aim at you. The last thing you
hear is the hum of the laser and the last thing you feel is intense agony as
the human form you have taken on is turned into charcoal.</span>
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ChooseOrDiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11846103136271509022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543007477211302995.post-6327085139828728282014-08-08T08:29:00.000-07:002014-08-08T13:19:52.596-07:00BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.3 - STICK IT TO ME<br />
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.3 - STICK IT TO ME</span></b></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i>by Tomara Armstrong</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i>
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</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">The fact that you’ve never been able to hold
your liquor or hide your admiration for curls and curves has compromised your
human form, and you’re quickly turning into a writhing ball of amorous
tentacles, allowing your chains to fall to the floor with ease. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Sally drops her stiletto in shock as a
volcano of firewater erupts from the depths of your stomach, projecting the
ball gag into her face, knocking her to the ground—unconscious, and covering
her with sickness. You crawl across the floor, reaching for her, sliding your
many arms over her sticky body, trying to remember the traditional dance of
your species. It’s been a while, so you improvise.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: italic;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">What am I doing? <o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: italic;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Sobriety smacks you in the face, and
instantly you return to human form. You would be embarrassed if Sally wasn’t
passed out. You’re about to pat her cheek to rouse her, when you remember that
a few short moments ago, she had you tied, gagged, and was tormenting you. She
even called you, Rachorin—a name few know or dare to whisper on your home
planet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">You reach into your cupboard and pull out a
glowing syringe. Hoping to immobilize Sally for questioning before the sheriff
arrives, you stick her in the neck and plunge the contents into her
bloodstream.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Her eyes pop open as you prop her up beside
you on the floor. “What have you done?” she says, searching you with her eyes—the
rest of her body frozen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I’m simply restraining you…the easy way.” You
pull her toward you, wrapping your arms around her and kick at the chains that
once held you captive. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“I wasn’t going to hurt you,” She coughs. Her
face starts to turn an odd shade of purple and her eyes bulge. “It’s starting.”
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“What?” you ask, as Sally begins to cough and
gag, spitting foam and blood. The serum you administered was meant for your kind, you haven’t tested it on this
type of hybrid, and it appears she is having some sort of adverse reaction. Her
arms begin to flail, smacking you in the face. She falls on top of you, pinning
you against the wall as she continues to spasm. She’s much heavier than you
anticipated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Be still.” You try to wiggle toward the
counter and feel for your medicine bag, but Sally makes it difficult as she
continues to flop around on top of you. Grabbing the handle of your leather bag,
you give it a good tug and pull it to the floor, spilling its contents in the
puddle of sick. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“Come on, come on!” You attempt to fish for
something to use, but everything slips and slides in the mess. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">She’s bucking now, gurgling and hissing, and
a strange smoke begins to rise from her head and chest. This is new—not
something your species experiences, and while you’re fascinated with this
discovery, Sally begins to make an even stranger noise.<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: italic;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: italic;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Ticking<span style="display: none; mso-hide: all;">ard that beforenglder'nd.
and organs, and releasing your stinking ash in the wind.pasm.g--anything e
clicking a</span>?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-style: italic;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">“Great,” you belch as Sally begins to pulse
and glow, ticking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Your ears pop.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Silence.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Time moves in slow-motion as you close your
eyes and cover your head. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Millions of particles ignite and scream,
evaporating the breath from your lungs and melting your eyeballs in their
sockets. White light swallows you up, devouring your pseudo flesh and crumbling
your alien organs, leaving the wind to disperse of your ashy remains as it
pleases. <i><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=3543007477211302995" name="_GoBack"></a><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<!--EndFragment--></div>
ChooseOrDiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11846103136271509022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543007477211302995.post-78521729853491632412014-08-04T15:06:00.001-07:002014-08-18T15:09:54.241-07:00BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.3 - ALIENS IN BONDAGE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxrXxjr0aKrwr6SgWJwbuWrbs2gublJ-RoeWCp7LHHzLUv_0QfBSvyC4nn1XtpfVo7ZZrBNV69wug8blLDMxaB1hEj4a__hRksxZT07qm6hXHvoiMPMn52rxmXzype_umH1v-wlQPWRY/s1600/SmokingTentacles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxrXxjr0aKrwr6SgWJwbuWrbs2gublJ-RoeWCp7LHHzLUv_0QfBSvyC4nn1XtpfVo7ZZrBNV69wug8blLDMxaB1hEj4a__hRksxZT07qm6hXHvoiMPMn52rxmXzype_umH1v-wlQPWRY/s1600/SmokingTentacles.jpg" /></a></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.3 - ALIENS IN BONDAGE</span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i>by James McShane</i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21px;">Before
you come to the realisation that you’re making this up as you go, you grab
Sally’s arm roughly and drag her with you out of the attic. You have a
semblance of a plan in your head, but it requires an element of luck. You hope
that this is the one moment in this forsaken day that luck with fall your way.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And as it
happens, it does – here comes the sheriff, and he’s brought a small posse with
him. You love a good posse. You and Sally meet him at the back of the church.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I’m
going to need you to create a distraction, Sheriff,” you say hastily. “I have
reason to believe that Sally here knows a good deal about what’s going down
with our guest back at the town.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“That’s
why I came a-runnin’,” the sheriff says. “Our mutual friend is muttering this
here lady’s name under his breath. I’m a-thinkin’ they know each other.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">This guy paid attention at sheriff
school, </span></i><span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">you
think. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Nothing much is going to pass him
by. Best make speed. </i><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I’ll
bring her with me,” you say as you catch a couple of spare horses. “Any chance
you can gain us some wriggle room?” You cock your head in the direction of
Biff’s lynch mob. “They may impede our progress.” The sheriff nods his head
eagerly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Me and
the boys love us a good punch-up,” he says way too enthusiastically. “The
letter of the law shall be applied this day.” He turns to his men. “Let’s go,
boys. The doc and his ladyfriend need to solve themselves a mystery.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“That’s
not all they need to do,” a voice from the back says. “I think they mean to get
down and dirty. I hear that Sally one has a liking for ropes and blindfolds.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Your
female companion gets a touch indignant. “Is that you, Slack Harry?” she cries
out. “The last time I saw you, you were paying me very well for my services.
You said I was the best Dom you ever had.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Yeah,”
Harry says, stepping out from behind the sheriff. “And I have the bruises to
show for it.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You turn
to Sally. “Now is not the time or place to discuss your peccadilloes. We have
to go see that al…fellow back in my room.” You jump on the horse. Ride, Sally.
Ride.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You leave
the sheriff, Slack Harry, and the rest of the posse to create a disturbance,
enabling you and Sally to make it back to the wounded alien quickly and in one
piece. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When you arrive on the
scene, the patient is in full human form and appears to be sleeping rather than
passed out. He appears healed. But you kind of knew that was going to happen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Do you
recognise him?” you ask Sally.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She
shrugs. “He looks a lot younger than he did when they took him away to hang
him, but that’s my daddy.” You nod, because you knew this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Let him sleep a bit more,” she
continues. “When he wakes, he will tell you everything you need to know.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You go to
a cupboard and take out a bottle of hooch. It’s all you can afford on your
doctor’s salary. You’re not a big drinker but you keep it around – for
medicinal purposes. You pour a couple of healthy measures for the two of you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Tell me
about the ropes and blindfolds,” you say hesitantly. You swig back the full
contents of your drink and then refill your glass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sally gets a twinkle in her eyes. You stare straight back at
her. “I’m asking a serious question,” you say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The man
on the table moans in his sleep. You can see that already his form is beginning
to change once more. You don’t have much time before the same thing starts to
happen to you. Maybe to Sally, too, seeing that she’s progeny. You know what
happens to your kind once you get, well, excited.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“A lot of
my customers ask to be dominated,” Sally says. “I’m not just a songstress. I
possess more than just a beautiful voice. I provide that which modern science
and Christian faith does not and cannot provide.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You knock
back your second shot and pour yourself a third. Sally has yet to start her
first. You are coming close to the point of no return, but you can’t contain
your urges that much longer. Now you know why Sally contacted you. She knows
your weakness. She inherited that knowledge from her father. But even so,
you’re powerless to prevent what happens next.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“What do
you provide then?” you ask in a hushed tone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Relief,”
she whispers as she moves closer. “Solace. A place in which a person can become
truly him- or herself. I provide to both male and female. Sometimes at once,”
she adds winking at you. “I brought something with me.” She rummages through
her bag and takes out a long black silk eye mask, a three foot length of chain,
some rope, and a ball gag. It was a big bag, but you didn’t think it could
carry all that. But then you realise, the material it’s made from isn’t from
this planet. After your fourth shot (yes, you poured another drink as Sally
emptied the contents of her bag), you’ve become slightly inebriated. Your
excitement is reaching fever point; the point where your species begins to
differ from humankind (aside from the odd flash of tentacle, that is). Sally
knows this and you wonder why she’s acting against her nature. Surely she
should be on the side of her family.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Her
father opens his eyes and peers at his daughter. “Sally?” he mutters. “What is
happening to you? Why are you here?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Sally
reaches into bag once more and takes out a two foot stiletto. Without engaging
her father in any conversation, she plunges the dagger into his right eye. He
stiffens, spasms, then falls still. He is as dead as he should have been when
Sally obviously shot him earlier. By this stage you’re hoping for some more
luck. You hope that the sheriff has finished off Biff and the gang, and is on
his way back here now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Sally
moves swiftly. With a skill set that can only come from a true professional,
she has you chained up, blindfolded, and gagged. She teases the point of her
stiletto up and down your cheek. You are in danger, you know this, but you
cannot help but be aroused.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“He is on
his way for you now, Rachorin,” she says, using your given name. “I have you
all wrapped up nice and neat. The only thing missing is a bow.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It is
then that your form begins to change.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You
consider your options. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 19px; line-height: 21px;"><a href="http://chooseordie.blogspot.com/2014/08/blazing-saddles-smoking-tentacles-ch3_8.html">A. You wait for the sheriff to come and save the day, allowing you ample time to question Sally about what the hell is going on.</a></span><br />
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://chooseordie.blogspot.com/2014/08/blazing-saddles-smoking-tentacles-ch4.html">B. You transform completely into your alien form, at which time anything could happen.</a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><a href="http://chooseordie.blogspot.com/2014/08/blazing-saddles-smoking-tentacles-ch3_12.html">C. You manage to escape your bonds and change places with Sally. </a></span><!--EndFragment-->
</span></div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />ChooseOrDiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11846103136271509022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543007477211302995.post-14949956595350430052014-08-03T09:18:00.000-07:002014-08-03T09:18:00.421-07:00BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.2 - SHOOTOUT AT THE E.T. CORRAL<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxrXxjr0aKrwr6SgWJwbuWrbs2gublJ-RoeWCp7LHHzLUv_0QfBSvyC4nn1XtpfVo7ZZrBNV69wug8blLDMxaB1hEj4a__hRksxZT07qm6hXHvoiMPMn52rxmXzype_umH1v-wlQPWRY/s1600/SmokingTentacles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxrXxjr0aKrwr6SgWJwbuWrbs2gublJ-RoeWCp7LHHzLUv_0QfBSvyC4nn1XtpfVo7ZZrBNV69wug8blLDMxaB1hEj4a__hRksxZT07qm6hXHvoiMPMn52rxmXzype_umH1v-wlQPWRY/s1600/SmokingTentacles.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.2 - SHOOTOUT AT THE E.T. CORRAL</span></b><br />
<i>by Jax Java</i><br />
<br />
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You
urgently lead Sally toward Maggie, instructing Maggie to see Sally to the
secret tunnel leading to the abandoned gold mine, “Get her out of here as fast
as you can!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You
barricade the door to the church and push as many pews as you can against
it. The hooves have slowed and you can hear voices shouting outside
the steps. You rush over to the altar and flip it over, revealing
the secret cache of guns used to protect the church from marauders. Loading
up your tentacles with the finest weaponry God could make, you look up and see
the two women staring at you with mouths gaping open.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“What are
you waiting for? GET OUT OF HERE NOW!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
ladies turn and go to the preacher’s confessional, turning the lamp hanging by
the door, which reveals a hidden panel entry to the tunnel. With
another glance of fear over their shoulders, they walk into the darkness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Relieved
when you see the panel slide shut, you stride up the bell tower steps, taking
them three at a time until you emerge in the blazing sun before the Biff and
his posse in the courtyard below.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I’m
going to show you a real life close encounter of the third kind!” you shriek,
raising your tentacles and taking aim.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The posse
below raise their guns in retort. “Give her back and walk away,” Biff yells
down the barrel of his gun.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Not
going to happen, not ever,” you yell back, cocking the guns and glaring against
the sun.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Game
over! What are we going to do now? What are we gonna do?” Biff screamed back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“How
about we make a campfire, sing a couple of songs?” you sneer as you open fire,
firing round after round of bullets in a storm of lead, gunsmoke and despair at
the posse.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The posse
dives and rolls out of range, firing back. You barely feel the bullets hitting
you, as you continue firing until you run out of bullets. You are
woozy, your wounds mortal, you sway in the sun on top of the bell tower. You
smile smugly to yourself knowing Sally is on her way to safety. Looking toward
the sky and longing for home, you sway forward, over the railing and down the
roof, dead before you hit the ground in the courtyard.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment-->ChooseOrDiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11846103136271509022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543007477211302995.post-50602477715006828312014-08-02T09:05:00.000-07:002014-08-02T09:05:14.274-07:00BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.2 - EAT, HOPE, PREY<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxrXxjr0aKrwr6SgWJwbuWrbs2gublJ-RoeWCp7LHHzLUv_0QfBSvyC4nn1XtpfVo7ZZrBNV69wug8blLDMxaB1hEj4a__hRksxZT07qm6hXHvoiMPMn52rxmXzype_umH1v-wlQPWRY/s1600/SmokingTentacles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxrXxjr0aKrwr6SgWJwbuWrbs2gublJ-RoeWCp7LHHzLUv_0QfBSvyC4nn1XtpfVo7ZZrBNV69wug8blLDMxaB1hEj4a__hRksxZT07qm6hXHvoiMPMn52rxmXzype_umH1v-wlQPWRY/s1600/SmokingTentacles.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.2 - EAT, HOPE, PREY</span></b><br />
<i>By Nathan Nixon</i><br />
<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Sally
looks at you and places her hand on your slightly discoloured jaw. “Doc, we've
got to get out of here. Our kind isn't happy with either of us. You playing
doctor for these humans, and me, being a mix breed; they’re gonna kill us if we
don't leave town.” You raise your arm and place her hand in yours, removing her
grip from your face. Her grip releasing, creates small sounds of suction
popping. You look deep into her eyes, noticing her deep bulging green pupils.
Slant, much like some sort of reptile. You watch as Sally changes her eyes at
will, turning them brown to look more human.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> “There's
a reason I left home Sally,” you console her. “This has more to do with me than
you think.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">There's a
loud boom downstairs, as one of the creatures kicks in the churches double
doors. “We can talk about it later, right now we've got to save our slimy
skins!” she yells.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You see a
small window over-looking the roof of the church. You draw your gun from its holster
with your right hand, and wrap your left arm around Sally's waist. Charging
toward the window, you use the butt of the gun to break out every shard of
glass. The creatures from back home surround the church outside. Riding up on
what appears to be mutated horses. God knows what experiments they've been
doing on these earth creatures. They close in on the church as you coax Sally
to start out through the window. Still being the gentleman you are, you turn
your head as she raises her dress to move her legs through the tiny opening,
leading to the church rooftop. You point your laser gun in the attackers’
direction and begin firing. Sally starts to run across the church roof,
slipping, she begins to slide in her Victorian style boots. She falls and lands
on her bottom near the edge of the roof. From there, she removes her boots and
stands barefoot. Her alien feet suction to the rooftop, much like a lizard of
some sort. She now begins to run. You climb out the window and<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">chase in
behind her. Lasers fly overhead as the creatures from back home, shoot in
Sally's and your direction. You whistle loudly calling your steed. Now your
horse runs toward your direction, waiting on the ground below.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> “Jump
on the horse Sally!” you yell out over the sounds of lasers and bullets. Down
on the ground you see the sheriff firing at the attackers, a pistol in each
hand. Sally leaps from the roof and lands on your trusty steed. Then,
suddenly... you hear a sound you haven’t heard since you left home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Vrmmmmmmmm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It's the
sound of a teleporter. You turn to find a seven foot tall creature standing on
the roof behind you. He's sporting an old familiar grin; a long dirty black
duster jacket, and a black cowboy hat. His teeth razor sharp, and his eyes
piercing into your soul. You recognize him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> “It's
been awhile.” he snarls, as he grabs you by your throat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“So, they
sent you, huh? The so-called greatest bounty hunter in the universe.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> “Nothing
so-called about it. I am, indeed, very much what they say.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Tentacles
begin to inch out from behind his coat, growing and sprouting. “After all I
managed to track your ass down, didn't I? I even brought a few soldiers with me
to help take you in. This is a nice little set up you got here. Little warm,
but plenty to eat. I do enjoy some human flesh.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Just then
you hear a loud bang, and the bounty hunters head explodes. His carcass drops
to the ground, as green slime explodes all over your face. His body loses its
grip on you, and what's left of him falls off the church roof and onto the
ground below. The sheriff is standing below, blowing the smoke off of his hot
pistol. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> “Greatest
bounty hunter in the universe, my ass! Doc, get down here! You get this lady
somewhere safe. I'll hold them off!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> You
jump off the roof and land between your horse and the carcass of the bounty
hunter. Sally motions you to hurry. “Sheriff, you’re going to need my help,”
you exclaim.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">More of
the creatures from back home make their way up the street. “No time for that,
Doc, this woman needs to be taken somewhere safe! I can hold my own just fine.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You nod
in agreement, and climb up on your horse in front of Sally. Taking the reins as
she holds onto you for dear life, her hands suctioned to you. The two of you
ride off, leaving the town, with a dust trail behind. The sheriff stays, firing
bullets and dodging lasers. He knows he won’t survive, but at least he'll go
down with a fight. Unknown to him, the body of the bounty hunter begins to
move. Slowly he grows back another head. He stands up, placing his hat back on.
The sheriff turns to find the seven foot tall creature towering over him. “No
need to cook him with your lasers boys, I'll eat this one raw!” the monster
yells, before sinking his teeth into the Sheriffs throat, shredding him to
pieces.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Way
outside of town you continue riding with Sally, making your escape. Suddenly,
the moment is interrupted by the familiar sound from back home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Vrmmmmmmmmm<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A flash
of blue light appears, and in its center stands the world’s greatest bounty
hunter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The horse
stops dead in its tracks, throwing you and Sally onto the ground. You begin to
confront the attacker.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“You, you
were dead! The Sheriff took your head clean off!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> “I
was never much like you or the others. Much like this little creature here,” he
said, extending his tentacles and wrapping them around Sally. She began to
scream, as he wrapped his slimy arm around her mouth, silencing her. “Nah,
humans and your kind aren't the only intelligent beings in this strange
universe of ours. I'm born from something greater. I can't die, unlike that
puny snack of mine that you two called a sheriff!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You climb
to your feet, racing to rescue Sally from the Bounty Hunter. He drags her
across the dirt into his clutches. He then extends another tentacle in your
direction. Quickly you draw out your laser gun. You fire your weapon at the arm
that's dragging Sally. It cuts the tentacle in half, leaving her bound on the
ground. Angry, he directs his attention toward you. Extending another tentacle,
he knocks your weapon to the ground. You now find yourself defenseless. He
shoves his slimy appendages down your throat, choking you. Everything around
you begins to fade. Slowly it grows darker and darker, your last sounds being
your own choking, and Sally's screams.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<br />ChooseOrDiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11846103136271509022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543007477211302995.post-2351006620327871972014-07-28T09:06:00.001-07:002014-08-20T12:00:21.398-07:00BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.2 - SALOON SALLY SINGS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxrXxjr0aKrwr6SgWJwbuWrbs2gublJ-RoeWCp7LHHzLUv_0QfBSvyC4nn1XtpfVo7ZZrBNV69wug8blLDMxaB1hEj4a__hRksxZT07qm6hXHvoiMPMn52rxmXzype_umH1v-wlQPWRY/s1600/SmokingTentacles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxrXxjr0aKrwr6SgWJwbuWrbs2gublJ-RoeWCp7LHHzLUv_0QfBSvyC4nn1XtpfVo7ZZrBNV69wug8blLDMxaB1hEj4a__hRksxZT07qm6hXHvoiMPMn52rxmXzype_umH1v-wlQPWRY/s1600/SmokingTentacles.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.2 - SALOON SALLY SINGS</span></b></div>
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laser-burned flesh tickles your nose as you inform the Sheriff that you will
get everything taken care of. You look down at the still-burned figure before
you, and bow once more, assuring the Sheriff again that the alien will be all
right until you can get back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-line-height-alt: 13.65pt;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You step out into the
late afternoon sun, feeling it bake your skin as you take in a few gulps of
searing hot air. It is hot as a whorehouse on nickel night. Not exactly the
refreshing feeling you’d hoped for, but better than smelling the remnants of
laser-blasted tentacles. You take the folded up piece of paper out of your
pocket, and notice the flourish of dainty script that could only have come from
a woman’s hand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-line-height-alt: 13.65pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-line-height-alt: 13.65pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Doc,<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-line-height-alt: 13.65pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-line-height-alt: 13.65pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You are the first of your kind I’ve seen in some time.
I wasn’t sure, at first, if I could trust you. Now, I’m running out of time. I
need your help, before they find me, and before the towns folk here realize
what I am. Please, you are my last hope.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-line-height-alt: 13.65pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-line-height-alt: 13.65pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Maggie has kindly given me a temporary sanctuary in
the church attic, but I won’t be there long.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-line-height-alt: 13.65pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-line-height-alt: 13.65pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">~Sally<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You
re-read the letter twice more, not quite sure what to make of it. There was a
time “your kind” might have meant the skin you’d chosen to walk among the
inhabitants of this planet. What they called “natives” were still unwelcome
most places, but you’d managed to settle in just fine anyway. After your talk
with the Sherriff, you’re not sure how many people you actually fooled with
your disguise though. You find a small bit of peace in understanding that the
big bub himself knows what you are, and he hasn’t run you out, or strung you up
yet. It gives you hope. You take a moment to consider your options, but the
conjured image of saloon songstress Sally puts your croaker thoughts to rest.
There was always something captivating about her, even if you didn’t fall under
the same spell everyone else seemed to when she cranked up her pipes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You
head to the church to go appease your own curiosity. Dust settles thick on your
boots as you walk. Rain is long overdue in these parts, and doesn’t appear to
be on the horizon in the near future. You watch as a horse out front of the
Hotel Grand takes a piss in the road. It’s the first thing you notice as you
amble back towards the church. As you get closer, Maggie, the preacher’s wife,
is peeking out of the curtains of the little shack she shares with her husband.
You tip your hat slightly, and she flutters away. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You
don’t even hesitate as you approach the church, taking that first step up,
heading to the door. That is when you realize your mistake. “Dad-blame it!” You
curse under your breath. The paint on the steps is still wet, and now your boot
print is there for all to see. You backtrack and walk around to the side of the
church where the preacher’s door is. You jiggle the handle, and find it’s been
locked. You are hot, tired, and just about to give up, turn around, and head
back to the shop when the lock clicks over. The door cracks just enough for a
set of bright green eyes to peek out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Ma’am.”
You tilt your head in her direction, noting the trail of fiery red curls that
that pop into view.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Quick.”
Sally throws the door open and reaches for your arm, dragging you inside before
slamming the rickety wooden door shut again. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.” She
keeps walking, and you follow her. Sally reaches up to grasp the catch on the
attic door, and pulls it down to reveal a makeshift set of stairs. As Sally
ascends, you can’t help but notice and appreciate her curvy figure. When she
sits on the floor at the top of the stairs to swing her legs up and over, you
politely look away until she gives you the all clear. You proceed to follow her
up into the small attic space where you must stay hunched over in order to
avoid knocking your head on the rafters.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You
take out the paper that the barman slipped you earlier. “Sally, I’m not sure…”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">She
cuts you off before you can finish your sentence. “Shh.” Her finger finds its
way to hover over your lips as she speaks. “We don’t have time. I got word this
morning. There are men coming to take me away, and I need your help to get out
of here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I’m
not sure what I can do for you.” You tell her honestly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I’m
not what I appear to be, and neither are you.” Her gritty accent is lost from
her voice as she speaks. “My father is the same as you.” Your eyes widen just a
bit as she continues her story. “He came to our town on a mission to blend,
learn, and see if this place could work for his kind. I don’t think anyone ever
thought of mixing with the humans here, but my father met my mom and he fell in
love.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Sally
was looking off into the distance seeing another time and place unfold before
her. You stand there, patiently waiting for her to finish. “She knew, of
course. It’s hard to hide when your kind gets…” Sally bites her lip, and you
can’t take your eyes off her mouth as she does. “Excited.” She finishes with a
blush in her cheeks. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Anyway,
everything was fine for them. No one ever knew our two species could reproduce
together, but apparently it works. I’m proof. The humans in our town never suspected.
I grew up normal with no outward signs of tentacles.” Sally blushes again as
she holds up her hands. “My fingers change if I’m angry, or I need the suction
for things.” She demonstrates, and you are flabbergasted as her fingers turn to
wavy tentacles before your very eyes. You know, now, that her story must be
true. “I was set to marry Biff Jenkins not long ago, but there was an
emergency. My mom’s Uncle Jeb, the town drunk, fell off his bar stool and
knocked his head in pretty good. They went to get mom, since she has some
knowledge of medicine. Well, she and dad were in an intimate position when
Harvey Dingle, the deputy, burst in on them. Harvey saw what happens when your
kind is excited, and he ran blabbing his mouth.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Sally
grabs your hand, pleading to you with her eyes. “They hanged my daddy. Hanging
doesn’t kill your kind though, and he managed to escape while the town drank
themselves stupid in celebration. I’m not sure what happened to momma, because
I was forced to run too. Biff, my fiancé, has been trying to track me down ever
since. I got wind that he caught my trail again, and he’s headed here now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You
take everything in and let out a deep sigh. “You want me to get you out of town
before he shows up?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Please!”
The urgency in her tone makes her angelic voice crack. Sally grasps your hands
in hers to add to her plea. Just as you are about to agree anyway, you hear
several sets of hooves approaching outside at a fast pace. “Oh, no!” Sally
yelps. It’s your turn to put a finger on her plump, rosy lips.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Shh,
I know just what to do, sweet Sally.”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You have a choice to make.</span></div>
<!--EndFragment--><a href="http://chooseordie.blogspot.com/2014/08/blazing-saddles-smoking-tentacles-ch2_3.html"><br /></a>
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<br />
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><a href="http://chooseordie.blogspot.com/2014/08/blazing-saddles-smoking-tentacles-ch2_3.html"><span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">A)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You hide Sally and confront her
alien-hating ex-fiancé, Biff Jenkins, and his posse. If you utilize your
tentacles, you can fire more guns at once, and possibly take them all out in
quick order.<o:p></o:p></span></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraph" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><a href="http://chooseordie.blogspot.com/2014/08/blazing-saddles-smoking-tentacles-ch3.html"><span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">B)<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span><!--[endif]--><span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IE; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You sneak Sally around the back of the
buildings while the raucous newcomers offer distraction for the Sheriff. You
take her to see the wounded alien, thinking that maybe his group can offer her
refuge, or possibly have information on Sally’s father. After all, there aren’t
that many of their kind supposed to be settled in these parts.<o:p></o:p></span></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<!--[if !supportLists]--><a href="http://chooseordie.blogspot.com/2014/08/blazing-saddles-smoking-tentacles-ch2.html">C) You realize this town just got too hot to handle and you bug out with the sexy songstress in your saddle as a consolation prize.</a></div>
<!--EndFragment--><br />
<!--EndFragment-->
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</script><noscript><a href="http://www.addpoll.com/chooseordie/poll/226089">Will you:</a></noscript>ChooseOrDiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11846103136271509022noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543007477211302995.post-40021465849522310212014-07-26T07:44:00.000-07:002014-07-26T07:44:02.644-07:00BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH1. - BLARDETH BLEEPS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxrXxjr0aKrwr6SgWJwbuWrbs2gublJ-RoeWCp7LHHzLUv_0QfBSvyC4nn1XtpfVo7ZZrBNV69wug8blLDMxaB1hEj4a__hRksxZT07qm6hXHvoiMPMn52rxmXzype_umH1v-wlQPWRY/s1600/SmokingTentacles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxrXxjr0aKrwr6SgWJwbuWrbs2gublJ-RoeWCp7LHHzLUv_0QfBSvyC4nn1XtpfVo7ZZrBNV69wug8blLDMxaB1hEj4a__hRksxZT07qm6hXHvoiMPMn52rxmXzype_umH1v-wlQPWRY/s1600/SmokingTentacles.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH1. - BLARDETH BLEEPS</span></b><br />
<i>By <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px;">Nandy Ekle</span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 16px;">
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</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You –“ You stop your reply suddenly, aware that your voice
sounds too much like the high-pitched beeps of your species. Clearing your
throat and hoping the sheriff didn’t notice, you restart. “You go on, Sheriff.
I, um, I have some things I need to, um, gather up for this.” You find your
gaze going toward the shape on the table, but try to make the sheriff think
you’re looking at the cabinet next to it. “I’ll be right behind you.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, hurry it up. I don’t wanna get in the middle a’
sumppin’ I don’t know nuthin’ ‘bout.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I will. Just go on and I’ll be right there.”<a href="" name="_GoBack"></a> You pick up a carpet bag and stuff a candlestick, an old
shoe and a pillow inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
sheriff watches you grab another couple of random objects, scratches his
balding pate, and walks out muttering under his breath.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Galdern . . . sonsa’ . . . whatever.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As soon as the sheriff is gone, you turn back to the body on
the table. It moans again and the tentacle moves.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Blardeth, is that you,” you ask.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“BBBEEEPPP . . .” he answers.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It IS you! Waddya’ know!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Blardeth opens his eyes and looks at you. “Claddeph,” he
gasps. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His eyes are full of an
emotion you take for love. “Your outfit is amazing.” He blinks and shakes his
head. “But that’s not why I’m here. I had to come tell you . . .” He trails
off.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Easy now. Take it easy.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His head shakes quickly. You hear the sloshing of brain
water and thank our lucky stars everything is okay in Bardeth’s head.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No. You don’t understand. You’re . . . Oh Minithetet! My
arm is on fire!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Blushing at his strong language, you gently take his
tentacle in your had. It’s beginning to turn back into an arm to match the rest
of the body, but there’s a deep black burn covering the flesh between the wrist
and the elbow.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Leave that alone. I’m not long for this world now anyway.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Aw, c’mon, Bardeth, old pal. I’m a DOCTOR here.” You smile
proudly and point to the certificate on the wall. Your writing hand cramped for
a week after copying the certificate design from the library book.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“No. Leave it. It’s my prize to take back home.” He yanks
his arm away from you, grabs the front of your shirt and pulls you in close to
his face. You can smell the sweet perfume of the sewer, the sexiest smell your
species knows. You tell yourself you don’t have time for love right now.
“You’re in danger, my old friend. I was comin’ here to tell you that when . .
.” His face grows greener. “Listen. Do you hear that?” His green face looks
toward the door and his four eyes (you can see the two natural eyes under his
two human eyes) become as large as whisky shot glasses. “It’s too late! They’re
here!” He turns his face from the door to you. Your human noses are nearly
touching. Then his mouth opens as big as a cavern. “RUN!” And he collapses back
onto the table.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Your human guts turn to ice cubes and your natural guts turn
to embers. Then you hear it. The galloping of horses and the shouts of men—not
‘your people’ but human men. You look around the room for any kind of weapon
and find nothing. You have a rifle in the back room, but there’s no time. The
feet are scuffling around on the wooden sidewalk outside your door. You decide
the only thing to do is unmask and defend yourself naturally. You drop the
human skin and stand there as your true self.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Suddenly the door blasts open and a group of men stand there
looking at you, sewer smelly tentacles and all. You open your moth to tell them
who you really are but the explosion of the frontman’s rifle cuts through the
air. Your head jerks back and you fall to the floor. As you lay there you see
your human skin wadded up in a heap next to you. The blood running between you
and the disguise is blue. Licking your lips you taste the sweetness of your
interplanetary blood. Your eyes roll up to see an abstract shape of blue blood
splattered on the wall behind you. You never knew you were such a good artist.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We ain’t havin’ no more a’ your kind ‘round here,” a voice
above you shouts. But there’s something else. You could swear you hear a few
high-pitched beeps and clicks underneath that voice. But it doesn’t matter now.
The men are disappearing; the room is going dark; the sounds are fading—all but
the beeps you know you heard in the voice.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But even that is finally gone.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
YOU DIED.</div>
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ChooseOrDiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11846103136271509022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543007477211302995.post-49064261080082692412014-07-25T08:10:00.004-07:002014-07-26T07:40:46.813-07:00BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH1. - RAYGUNS AND RAWHIDE<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxrXxjr0aKrwr6SgWJwbuWrbs2gublJ-RoeWCp7LHHzLUv_0QfBSvyC4nn1XtpfVo7ZZrBNV69wug8blLDMxaB1hEj4a__hRksxZT07qm6hXHvoiMPMn52rxmXzype_umH1v-wlQPWRY/s1600/SmokingTentacles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxrXxjr0aKrwr6SgWJwbuWrbs2gublJ-RoeWCp7LHHzLUv_0QfBSvyC4nn1XtpfVo7ZZrBNV69wug8blLDMxaB1hEj4a__hRksxZT07qm6hXHvoiMPMn52rxmXzype_umH1v-wlQPWRY/s1600/SmokingTentacles.jpg" /></a></div>
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<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.1 - RAYGUNS AND RAWHIDE</span></b><br />
<i>By Scott Perkins</i><br />
<br />
<br />
The fellow on the table isn’t going anywhere, so you decide to accompany the sheriff out to the abandoned mine to see what your fellow beings are up to and why they’re in your territory.<br />
<br />
You nod the sheriff toward the door and when he turns his back to leave, you slip your Bolt Piecemaker ray gun out of the drawer and into your holster. As you strap up, you feel better with the polished brass and ceramic hanging on your hip; as their marketing transmissions like to say, “Quar’phon made cephalopods, Bolt made them evil.” You’re a terrible shot, but you don’t need to be a very good shot with a Bolt Piecemaker; aim in the general direction of your opponent and make him, his close kin, distant relations, and part of the landscape behind him go away.<br />
<br />
If there are more like the guy on the table out in that mine, you aren’t taking any chances. (Bolt can make all the claims he wants, your people were already evil before he invented his ray gun.)<br />
The sheriff shouts through the door for you to quit dawdling and get the lead out. You’re not sure what that means, but he seems impatient, so you hurriedly jab the unconscious creature with a hypodermic full of blowfish toxin, just enough to keep him from wandering off before you get back.<br />
<br />
The sheriff has brought the horses around and is waiting outside the door alongside his deputy with the teeth like a Missouri mule. You feel your skin ripple in the heat as you come out into the high plains oven that these humans jokingly call a town.<br />
<br />
“You reckon you’re gonna need that hogleg, son?” the sheriff nods at your Piecemaker.<br />
“I reckon I don’t want to need it and not have it with me,” you reply. The deputy titters nervously and hands you the reins of your mount.<br />
<br />
You can feel the eyes of the townsfolk following you as you head out of town and you do your best to return the stares with a friendly nod and a touch of your brim.<br />
<br />
Thankfully, the glare of the sun is so intense that you’re not the only one in town keeping your hat pulled low. The problem is that it means anyone around you could be hiding their ears, or their tentacles, or four, maybe five extra eyes…<br />
<br />
It’s easy to feel outnumbered in these situations and you catch yourself thinking that maybe you should’ve grabbed the rifle too.<br />
<br />
A few miles outside of town, you finally begin to relax. The sheriff seems lost in his own thoughts and you’re damned if the deputy has any, so you’re left with yours and that’s fine with you. As the trail takes you across the barren stretches of brown scrub land, you find yourself in the lead.<br />
<br />
That’s fine with you. You know the area well from when you scouted it from the air when you first arrived. The rocky terrain rises steadily and then fractures into gullies and eventually canyons where prospectors have frittered away their lives in the search for gold, burrowing into the landscape like a colony of heat-addled prairie dogs. <br />
<br />
You can hear your companions talking in low voices behind you as you enter the base of the washout that leads up to the hole in the ground which once generously gave up gold, apparently in return for a steady influx of rusted pick axes and rotting minecarts.<br />
<br />
You draw up to wait for the sheriff and his deputy, your horse dancing nervously as sounds whisper across the rusting junk, sounds that are not of the earth.<br />
<br />
What the hell have these idiots been up to? How hard can it be to blend in with a bunch of fleshy bipeds so primitive that they think the telegraph qualifies as high technology? You didn’t choose this planet for its amenities.<br />
<br />
The sheriff arrives as you dismount. He’s alone and looking back, you can see the deputy off his horse with a Winchester in his hands. The bucktoothed buckaroo hightails it back down the gully and you scramble up one face of the wash, seeking higher ground.<br />
<br />
“Figure we can use high cover, and there ain’t no need for the kid to see what shouldn’t be seen.” The sheriff marks the dust at your feet with his tobacco juice to drive the point home. “Hear what I’m sayin, Doc?”<br />
<br />
“You don’t want your town sullied by my… kind.”<br />
<br />
“We have an understanding, then.” The sheriff drops to the ground and ties his horse loosely to a nearby bit of scrubby tree. “You, I don’t mind. You help folks out and hold up your end. But these troublemakers are gonna make trouble for all of us and I won’t have it, Doc, I just won’t.”<br />
<br />
This seems a bit unfair. What does all this have to do with you anyway? Just because a fella has a certain kind of skin or a certain number of tentacles doesn’t mean he’s responsible for everyone else who does too.<br />
<br />
“Get in there and find out what they want, but anyone who comes out of there sporting more than two legs and two arms is getting drilled.”<br />
<br />
“That’s some negotiation strategy you have there, Sheriff.”<br />
<br />
“No point in beatin’ the devil round the stump, Doc,” the lawman replies. “I have the citizens of my town to protect and they’re simple folk, salt of the earth… you know, morons. They don’t accept strangeness very well.”<br />
<br />
There’s certainly no point arguing with that fact.<br />
<br />
You came all the way out here, you might as well go through with it and anyway you’re not entirely sure at this point that the sheriff is entirely ready to count you among “his town’s” human citizens.<br />
<br />
You ease your Piecemaker in its holster and continue alone the last few yards toward the mouth of the mine. The creature at the door isn’t in any form that the sheriff would offer a room at the Grand Hotel. The mass of waving tentacles greets you silently, one tentacle extends to caress the tip of your nose and then loses interest in you once you’re identified as of the correct flavor for entry.<br />
<br />
As you slip past the guard and venture into the welcome cool of the mine, your eyes adjust to different wavelengths of light and you begin to notice carvings on the walls of the mineshaft. Pictograms you haven’t seen since you left home trace spirals across the walls and ceiling of the shaft, telling a story that’s not going to be considered good news by the sheriff and his town.<br />
<br />
As you descend into the darkness and damp, you are reminded of home, and it makes you edgy. You pull your ray gun fully out of the holster. The weight of it feels good in your hand and far too small and ineffectual to make a good negotiating tool. If the door guard isn’t bothering with human form, then whatever the rest are up to won’t be good for anyone else who has taken to walking on two legs. Things might get interesting.<br />
<br />
“Cthoth-hurragh ctchuck t’ut-t’ut ftaghn!” A harsh voice cuts through the silence. “Cthoth-hurragh ctchuck tut-tut ftaghn!”<br />
<br />
You step into a large chamber and stumble to a halt. Whether this space was dug out for the men working the old gold mine to gather and watch sporting events or the mine had broken through to a natural cavern and made improvements, you can’t rightly say. The uneven floor is heaped all about with piled backfill dug out of the tunnels that open in all directions from this central chamber. Several of the nearby heaps of slag have an open space in the center, being watched with rapt attention by an undulating crowd of miscellaneous nightmares of scale, slime, and tentacle.<br />
<br />
The spectators, though, aren’t what make your skin go rubbery and cold. A massive creature stands at the center of the watchers with a smaller human-sized creature held above what should by all rights be its head. As you watch, the creature shouts “Cthoth-hurragh ctchuck tut-tut ftaghn!” once again and brings the human form smashing down on the rocks.<br />
<br />
The spectators take up the chant and soon they are chanting just one, ominous word. “Mon-go” they shout. “Mon-Go! Mon-Go! Mon-Go!” the name of an ancient terror out of the depths of your race’s darkest nightmares.<br />
<br />
As you backpedal back down the tunnel, the darkness echoes with that ancient name. The ray gun feels useless in your nerveless fingers. You have to get out of there, you have to…<br />
<br />
Your back slams into something solid and you realize you’ve run into a dead end. The chants are getting louder and the faint sussuration of suckers and feelers dragging obese bodies across stone floors follows. The tunnel in front of you gets darker as the Mongo approaches.<br />
<br />
Your Bolt Piecemaker rocks in your hand as you empty it at the approaching terror. The flare of the death ray scours the pictograms from the stone walls and burns the hydrogen and methane out of the air, sending waves of fire and smoke down every tunnel and crevice. The rumble of the collapsing mine are accompanied by the realization that even if you bring the entire mountain down on its head, it’ll just make it mad.<br />
<br />
You pray to your dark gods that the sheriff has the good sense to run as the dark hand of the Mon-Go reaches out to you.<br />
<br />
Whether it’s the falling mountain that kills you or the creature is irrelevant, you’re jelly at the bottom of a deep, dark hole.<br />
<br />
And that’s just not a good look on anybody.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
ChooseOrDiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11846103136271509022noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543007477211302995.post-90493558209203790022014-07-21T07:07:00.001-07:002014-08-02T09:14:12.716-07:00BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH. 1 - LONG ARMS OF THE LAW<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlKDXPCvSJL9AOk7gSjPoFOPH9IU7za9Ceb0t2yNqkD6TdcL5vAYqeuTAiCVYxM5gqeIjjzDvZahsROGTPmqdnPeX9uw26jxT1L5U4aI5MnCxA0DXQ1vguB8gPr_KYtBZwdABq0U6Ayiw/s1600/SmokingTentacles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlKDXPCvSJL9AOk7gSjPoFOPH9IU7za9Ceb0t2yNqkD6TdcL5vAYqeuTAiCVYxM5gqeIjjzDvZahsROGTPmqdnPeX9uw26jxT1L5U4aI5MnCxA0DXQ1vguB8gPr_KYtBZwdABq0U6Ayiw/s1600/SmokingTentacles.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><b>BLAZING SADDLES, SMOKING TENTACLES CH.1 - LONG ARMS OF THE LAW</b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><i>By Annie Evett</i></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A tumble
weed blows dramatically across the dusty main street of Mulder’s Lot. You grin
at the cliched scene, taken directly out of the penny westerns stacked high in
the tiny dusty room above the General Store you call both home and your control
centre. You squint as grit blasts into your eyes, and untie the scarf which,
until now, has sat fashionably round your neck. You’ve studied hard to fit into
this town and although you’ve stayed longer than your posting normally allows,
you find the inhabitants quaint and on occasions, interesting. <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=3543007477211302995" name="_GoBack"></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Pulling
your felt hat firmly over your ears, you adjust the tilt of it in the General
Supply Store window and made your way to the Grand Hotel for your customary
late afternoon drink in the saloon, away from the noisier public bar. On your
way, you nod to the preacher who is busy painting the church steps and
exchange pleasantries with his wife. She stutters a greeting, but never meets
your eyes. You’ve managed to fool most of the townsfolk, but you suspect she
can see past your elaborate disguises and harbours a suspicion that you are not
all that you seem to be. It may of course be your initial choice of body type
which makes her uncomfortable, but you decide to keep a closer eye on her, as
it wouldn’t do to be discovered. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The Grand
Hotel glows with a friendly light in the fading afternoon sun. The
sophisticated tinkling of the pianist’s tunes cuts through the suddenly still
hot air. Crickets begin to sing alongside the musician.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Getting
closer, you discover a crowd around the front entrance, all eyes entranced by
the show taking place inside. As you push your way through the doors, you
understand the silence, now mesmerised by the glamorous songstress slowly
making her way down the staircase. Her song, simple and sweet, dripped of
promise as she slithers around the room; lightly touching men’s hands or faces
as she goes. She waves dramatically as she finishes her song and slips out
through the swinging doors of the Saloon. You wonder if it is a good idea to
drink there now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
pianist strikes a lively tune, the hypnotic effect the songstress has had on
the town folk immediately dispells. You nod to the barman, who fills a
tumbler with a pale liquor and sends it down the wooden boards. He gestures
toward the Saloon. “Doc, you’d best take your drink in there. You know some
folk don’t like it when you drink here.” He slides a small folded note towards
you and winks. You pocket it to read it later.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You hear
galloping horses up the dusty main street with a sudden halt further down the
street. You already know it’s outside our office ,and from the banging on the
door, the visitor is keen to employer your services. You gulp down the fiery liquid and prepare yourself for what’s to come. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Running
feet down the street are followed by the doors of the hotel swinging open and
the music stops dramatically. A bored group playing cards shift their
eyes, hoping for new players, but upon seeing who it is, bury their faces
behind their make-or-break, chance-driven selections from the grimy deck and
try not to look up again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
bucktoothed deputy’s eyes dart around the space and fix on you. “Doc, ya gotta
come quick. We got ourselves and E - mergency" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You push
yourself away from the bar and follow him down the street towards your surgery
which also doubles as the town’s pharmacy. Sheriff Rogers, red faced from the
exertion of riding hard stares at you for a moment. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“I know
we don't always see eye to eye, Doc, you bein’, well, the way you are, but this
here is one if your, 'erm, folk. You'd be the best to help them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You blush
with both anger and embarrassment. You’d thought you'd managed to conceal
yourself from the sheriff especially, and wonder again if it’s the body choice,
or something else he means. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Your eyes
wander towards his horse and the shape covered in a blanket and tied to his
pack horse. A green tentacle peeps from under the blanket. This leaves no
doubt what he means with his comment on “your folk” and suddenly you have a
greater level of respect for the peacemaker of the town. You nod, and between
the sheriff, the bumbling efforts of the deputy, and yourself, you manage to
drag the body into your office and up onto the table.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You look
at the deputy and raise an eyebrow at the sheriff. He shrugs and taps his head.
“Aint nothin' much up there, and we are gunna need the help.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You stare
at the sheriff. “What do you mean?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The sheriff
pulls the blanket away from the body, revealing a human form attached with a
distinctly scaled tentacle, charred and battle torn. “I don’t mind you
folk mosying round the plains, but when you start to fight, it just gets dang
messy.” He points to the prone figure. “And when you don’t change back
properly, it just leaves questions, which I normally gotta clean up.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You lean
on the table, unable to fully comprehend how you’ve misread the sheriff.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“Now
there are a few more up near the old gold mine hiding out, most likely beat up
but not injured like this one. You gotta tell them to move on. It’ll come
better from one of their own folk.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The
figure stirs and groans. Apart from some laser burns which you know will heal
within a few hours, the alien is in good shape and will just need time to
regenerate and reform into human shape. </span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You have some choices to make?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Do You:</span><br />
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://chooseordie.blogspot.com/2014/07/blazing-saddles-smoking-tentacles-ch2.html"><b>A: Remember the folded paper from the hotel and find that it’s a handwritten note from the songstress, desperate for your help, and leave the alien with the sheriff and find out what she may need?</b></a><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://chooseordie.blogspot.com/2014/07/blazing-saddles-smoking-tentacles-ch1.html">B: Decide to wait with the groaning figure on your table and find out what they are doing on your part of the planet?</a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><a href="http://chooseordie.blogspot.com/2014/07/blaing-saddles-smoking-tentacles-ch1.html"><b>C: Go with the Sheriff to reason with the aliens in the gold mine?</b></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</script><noscript><a href="http://www.addpoll.com/chooseordie/poll/226032">Do you:</a></noscript>ChooseOrDiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11846103136271509022noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543007477211302995.post-1257505643645521612014-07-07T08:33:00.000-07:002014-07-21T07:11:40.014-07:00SEASON 5 HAS ARRIVED!<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">It’s been too long, hasn’t it? You
thought we’d forgotten you, right? Wrong. After two long years, season 5 is
nearly upon us. The only thing left to do is for you, our adoring and
long-suffering (not to mention patient) fans and readers to pick the story you
want us to write.</span><span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">Read through the following story
lines and then pick your favourite. It’s as simple as playing Candy Crush <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ad infinitum</i>. We’ve all done this,
right? Now it’s time to put us writers to the test. Choose wisely, people. Your
species depends on making the right choice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; line-height: 13.65pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">Polls close next Monday<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=3543007477211302995" name="_GoBack"></a>. <i>Be nice.<o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">THE
CHOICES<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="color: #444444; font-family: Arial; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-IE;">1. </span><span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You are the town’s only medical practitioner in the deepest
west in the early 1800s. Your ramshackle office doubles as the pharmacy and
outpost general store. You hear galloping horses up the dusty main street with
a sudden halt outside your veranda. The door flings open and the sheriff, red
faced pleads with you to come help with a patient.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I know we don't always see eye to eye
Doc, you bein’, well, the way you are, but this here is one if your 'erm, folk.
You'd be the best to help them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You blush with both anger and
embarrassment. You've worked hard for years to fit into the town and had
thought you'd managed to hide your difference. You follow the Sheriff out to
his horse to see a shape covered in a blanket and tied to his pack horse. A
green tentacle peeps from under the blanket. You nod, and both you and the
Sheriff go to bring the body in to your office.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">2. You are at the
cutting edge of Victorian science, insomuch as you like to cut people up… you,
know, FOR SCIENCE! Today is the day you unveil you latest abomination, but
first you need the parts. Was it the legs of a fashion model and the arms of a
body builder, or vice-versa? Did you lay in a fresh supply of brains? One false
move and you’ll have the local peasantry at your gates wanting to offer you an
excellent deal on used farm implements and torches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What’s their problem, you’re only playing God! FOOLS! Have
your best maniacal laugh ready and sharpen your scalpels, Doctor, they don’t
call it Mad Science for nothing …<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">3. You've been cast
as an extra on a new sci-fi series on a major television network. Your cousin,
one of the writers for the show, lets it slip that you’ve impressed the director.
He casually mentions that if a more significant role were to become available,
you might be considered for the part. He also leaks another project he is
working on—a revolutionary reality series that tests the boundaries of human
behavior with the promise of fame and glory, as well as the coveted lead in a
project that’s in-the-works. It’s all great news, and you’re willing to do just
about anything for a role—even if it means eliminating your competition,
hijacking the script, or blindly signing on to a kill-or-be-killed dating show.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">4. You write erotic
fiction, nonsense fuck stories about chiseled abs, and romance, and dowdy women
finding themselves sexually when they discover chiseled abs. Sometimes there's
also a whip. It's all very silly. You write a lot of it. You sell even more. It
pays for your car, and your second car, and the golf cart you drive to the
guest house when you want to "get away from it all."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Your life is perfect.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Until your
"greatest fan" arrives.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">5. You and you
friend, Tony, decide to go to the circus. As you sit under the tent, the clowns
run into the ring. You've never liked clowns and these look scarier than all
the clowns you've ever seen. You look for a way to leave but Tony won't let you
go anywhere. During all the chaos with the scary clowns an elephant knocks over
the post holding the tent up, sending the big top crashing down. Worse than
that, the huge wooden pillar is falling toward you. Suddenly a trap door opens
in the sawdust at your feet and a clown tries to pull you down a tunnel . . .<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">6. You dive over the
hood of the car as the building explodes. Yelling in your radio for your
partner, you risk a glance at the street and discover-to your horror-the
explosion has not contained the zombie epidemic. The animated corpses of Girl
Scouts begin to surround you. You never signed up for this, you were quite
content riding out your life slugging free Slurpees at work. How could you know
the nacho cheese you poured onto customers nachos would be the perfect chemical
cocktail for the apocalypse. You shake your head to clear the thought and
realize you are now surrounded by the Scouts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">7. In the not too
distant future, only one telecommunication company has survived to provide the
world with television, Internet and phone service.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It is the day before
the series finale of Fancy Chair Gambit, a fantasy program in which ten
thousand different families have vied with one another to rule the kingdom.
Over the past twenty years fans have watched in rapt attention as person after
person has been killed off until there are literally only two people left in
the kingdom and everyone must know, will it be a Barren or a Sanmix who sits
upon the fancy chair.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suddenly, every screen in the
world goes blank. A man, driven mad over the ridiculous seventy three hour
window of time someone needing service or installation must wait without
leaving his home, has taken over the broadcast and will not release television
to the people.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It is up to you, as
the leader of an elite team of tv service providers, to stop this man and
return television and internet to the world before it is too late!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">8. You wake up to the
worst hangover you can imagine. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It feels like you've
got the percussion section of the London Philharmonic behind your eyes playing
the 1812 overture; your tongue tastes like a donkey pissed on it and your body
is in shock that you're still alive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When you can finally
move your head, you realise that you are lying on a hospital bed wrapped in
bandages and there are reporters being held back from the entrance to the ward
you are on. Your fellow patients appear to be looking at you as if you'd just
grown horns and a tail. And going by the movement under the sheet covering you,
that last one might be true.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And you can't
remember what happened last night or who you are. What do you do next? Wait
until you can accost some nurse and demand answers or haul your mummified arse
out of bed and track down your memories?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">9. Dr. William Glass
gave you his new "glass heart" Artificial heart when you were dying
as a baby. Your parents were told that you would need a new one every few
years. Unfortunately the glass heart was a design that never caught on, and
having one makes you incapable of obtaining the Newer artificial Heart. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You have about six
months left on your ticker to hunt down Dr. Glass and get him to fix you up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-size: 19px; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">10. You are an
award-winning baker. Your cakes, buns, cookies, and breads are the *ahem* toast
of gastronomes everywhere. But your fame isn’t just global; it’s interstellar.
Representatives (also known as the Invading Forces) of the Magellan System have
ordered you to bake for their ailing emperor. Failure to do so will result in
the instant extermination of the human race. It’s time to Bake or Die.</span></div>
<!--EndFragment--></div>
ChooseOrDiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11846103136271509022noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543007477211302995.post-1976475497090502252012-10-19T08:37:00.000-07:002012-10-19T08:38:59.798-07:00ECOPOCALYPSE CH.7 - BATMAN REIGNS<center>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn6GKyIFHD7WLAM-xDJfAmhr7v0IVBruocitFcVwxYtOmlkwIkT7vee77_58HOXd4SwVf4XIV6btwvSQlk_qBPltcKtqGiFvFr86u1Z28dnZFksYJKi7bLFRTjsvkAg-5QL6LlJQmn6J4/s500/189432_509134632445723_1171005126_n.jpg" /></span></center>
<center>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>ECOPOCALYPSE CH.7 - BATMAN REIGNS</b></span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>By Nandy Ekle</i></span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">
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<span style="line-height: 200%;">Your public execution. After all the
work you did to find an answer to this crisis, they still want to kill you. And
this comes directly from the President of the United States, well, the acting
President of the United States. Your face feels like it is on fire while your
hands and feet feel like icebergs. Worst of all, your insides have become
melted wax.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“No!”
Madge screams at Sneedon. “No way! My brother might be a partying bigoted
homophobe, but he’s got a huge heart. He cannot be executed.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Madge,”
you place your hands on her shoulders. “I don’t think you’re going to stop
anything here.” Your life passes before your eyes in a split second—playing house
with her when you were kids, Madge playing Daddy and you playing the baby. You
sitting on the curb crying while she whips all ten bullies standing in the yard
demanding lunch money. The fifteen year fight (she still hasn’t forgiven you)
over her g-f, Suzi. Inventing the Environaut and the financial success that
followed. Parties with Milo. Then, today’s crap. You realize what an immature
jerk you’ve always been, from letting Madge fight your battles to the endless
parties with Milo. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Five
words float across your brain. Five one-syllable words, but five words that
bring a 180 degree turn around to your life. This one little phrase turns you
into a hero. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Time to be a man.</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Madge
sees it in your eyes. The look on her face changes from a worried sister to a
grieving sister to a proud sister. “You mean . . .”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes,
Madge. I’ll let them take me. All my life I’ve done nothing but hide behind you
and partay harday. But today, I’m bringing out the tights and cape and becoming
a hero.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She
throws her arms around your neck and hugs you tight enough to push all the air
from your lungs. You hug her back, then you tap on her back, begging for her to
release you so you can breathe long enough to do what must be done.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>She
drops her arms. “Sorry. I keep forgetting how much stronger I am than you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You
stand up straighter and your voice drops two octaves. “It’s okay, Madge. I
wouldn’t be where I am today if you weren’t stronger.” She grins as she wipes
her tears and snotty nose on your shirt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You
turn to face Sneedon. “Okay. I give up. Take me in.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You’re
full of crap, you know it? Just because China, Russia and the entire Arab
nation are calling for your public execution doesn’t mean we’re going to give
it to them. They’re not our bosses, afterall.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>At
that moment an alarm sounds with a volume so loud you nearly jump out the
window. You all look toward the red phone under the glass dome and notice it
bouncing up and down. Sneedon removes the dome and picks up the receiver.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Yes?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, sir. I understand.” He replaces
the receiver and the glass dome and turns back to the room. You hold your
breath while he collects his composure. He looks at you, then down at the
floor. He looks at Madge, then you, then down at the floor. Finally he brings
his head up and appears to be looking out the window behind you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“That
was President Gantly. Russia, China, and the entire Arab nation have threatened
to launch a nuclear missile directly to your hometown if we don’t show your
torture and execution in the next 24 hours. He doesn’t really want to kill you,
but it appears we have no choice.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You
throw your arms out together, hands knotted into fists, waiting for the
handcuffs to snap around them. When the cold steel touches your wrists, you
gasp. The metal is so hard and cold. They really intend to go through with it.
Forget the noble intention, an entire world is at stake.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Walking silently to the beat of Madge’s
sobs, you, Sneedon, Madge, and Ernie march toward the door. The whole party
enters the elevator and begin the trip to the ground floor where you all will
walk to the front lawn of the White House in front of cameras from all over the
world and a firing squad standing ready for the order to fire.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Just
as you and the rest of the parade is about to leave the front door, Madge stops
and turns you toward her. Her hands reach to pluck at a potted plant on a shelf
by the door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“You
know that stuff about not forgiving you over Suzi?” You nod your head, afraid
to speak. Tears would spoil the heroic music playing in your head. “I forgive
you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Madge
. . .” you manage to say.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Get
moving, you two.” Sneedon does not appreciate the tender moment you and Madge
are sharing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As
you stand on the green grass, you look at Madge one final time standing far
away from the line of soldiers with guns pointed directly at you. You feel your
previously melted insides begin to rise as if trying to run away from the guns.
The world takes on a brown tinge.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>President
Arthur Gantly is speaking to the cameras. “Ladies and gentlemen of the world, I
bring you this, this miscreant who nearly destroyed our world with pooh. I will
give you his head on a platter.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You
watch as Ernie leans down and whispers something in Madge’s ear. He has a
leering look on his face. You laugh as she knees him so hard in the crotch he
hits the wall.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The
President stands facing the line of gun-wielding soldiers with his hand in the
air. You hear a scream. It’s not Madge, her voice is much lower than what you
heard. You hear the noises of bedlam and look beyond the firing squad. People
are running everywhere, trampling each other, climbing over cars and trees to
get away from the gruesome scene about to take place. You envision your blood
splatter on the ground and look down as if it already has. You do see a drop of
something near your feet, but it isn’t red, it’s brown. At that moment, another
drop of brown liquid falls from your eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>You
remember the clod of dirt Madge rubbed in your face during the tender moment in
the hallway. You can still taste the mud as she suggested you even swallow some
of it. It works. People everywhere are convinced you have contracted the same
disease that has been turning the rest of the world into zombies. Not wanting
to catch anything from you, the on-lookers, officials, gunsquad, even the news
people who would withstand a hurricane or a blasting volcano for a story, drop
all their equipment and run full speed away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="line-height: 200%;"> It
seems you will not die of a hundred gun shots today. <i style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=3543007477211302995" name="_GoBack"></a><o:p></o:p></i></span><br />
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><br /></span>
<span style="line-height: 200%;"><b>THE END.</b></span></div>
<!--EndFragment--></span></center>
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<a href="http://nancydkeel.com/About_Me.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-2aUSbPKd-cLQ05QMd1TReH6LzSF_ZyeLCc_YqI6nd9_q36hw8FEbQGhQigBIMtOx-YIY7lHG0pdhW_fW4mOOB6tSdf6kUsjE6E0KVfBf0L34a-vfTSLXpQaZQmGN7UvJmMMsWEtk288/s520/COD_NandyBanner2.jpg" /></a>ChooseOrDiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11846103136271509022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543007477211302995.post-45523963113284476782012-10-17T08:12:00.000-07:002012-10-17T08:12:32.708-07:00ECOPOCALYPSE CH.6 - CALL IT QUITS<center>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">ECOPOCALYPSE CH.6 - CALL IT QUITS</span></center>
<center style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">By</span></center>
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<!--StartFragment-->
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“You got that right,” Sneedon says. “Artie is out baying for blood.
Your blood.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“What do you mean?” Madge asks before you
can even formulate the question yourself.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“My man at the West Wing says China, Russia
and the entire Arab nation wants your head on a platter. They’re having their
own problems and the only way they can placate their citizens is to ask for
your public execution.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">You gulp.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Oh… uh… I can understand that.” You stand
up. “Well in that case I’d better head over and give myself up.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Madge stares at you. “You serious?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“I… well… um. I did cause it…” You smile
uncertainly. “I’ll pop over to the White House and do it publicly.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Madge begins to stand up. “I’ll come with
you.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">You shake your head. “No, you stay here,
sis. You’re safe here and you can help get the changes rolled out. I’ll zip
over in my ‘copter.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Every one in the room stares at you and you
slide out the door like a slug from a lettuce; slowly and carefully, looking
around to make sure no one is following you.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">As the door shuts, you hear Sneedon say:
“What’s he up to?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“I don’t know.” Madge replies. “Before
today I would have said that he was going to run away, but after what I’ve seen
him doing to fix this catastrophe today, I think he might just do it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">You sigh with relief and head up to the
roof. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">As you take off, you try to think what you
are actually going to do. You can’t go and hand yourself in, that would mean
you’d end up… at best… in jail for the rest of your life. At worst, the new
president (being the bastard that he is) would probably hand you over to the
Middle East for execution.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“I’m too young to die.” You murmur, heading
north as slowly as you can. “Why should I die for something that wasn’t my
fault? It was the board’s money pinching that caused all this…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">A sudden blast of air pushes the ‘copter to
one side and you see a pair of jets coming round to flank you. The radio
crackles.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“ECOGen One. You are instructed to keep
pace with us. We will land at the Airforce base where you will be taken into
custody. Over.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! What do you
do now? There’s no way this little helicopter can outrun F16’s. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Experimentally you weave a little and
predictably, the radio crackles into life again.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“ECOGen One. Do not try to resist arrest.
We have orders from the president to shoot if you run. Over.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Damn. You’re dead either way. How on earth
do you… an idea occurs and you take a deep breath, slapping the radio button on
the joystick.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“ECOGen One to escort. I’m low on gas and I
can’t keep up with you. Over.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">You let your airspeed drop and the jets
slow as well. Now what speed was a stall for this helicopter? Oh, that’s right…
Now if you can just bring her to rest somewhere safe and get away from the jets
before they can react.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“ECOGen One. We will keep pace with you.
Keep moving forward. Over.” The pilot seems more than a little pissed off.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">A field bounded by a large wood appears and
you let your airspeed drop further, feeling the craft shudder and the nose tip
upward. Now, if you just…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">A whoosh of air on both sides of the
helicopter buffets it from side to side and the resulting turbulence<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>knocks the pitch of the blades awry. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Thanks Escort, that was a great help…Not!”
you snap into the radio as you fight to keep the craft level. You speed up a
little, but the turbulence from the low flying, circling jets as well as the
wind scrables your pitch further and…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Shit! Not<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>retreating blade stall, anything but that, you’re too close
to the fucking ground to… </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">The helicopter tilts left.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Time slows. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">You drop the controls hoping that the
autocorrect will kick in, but the tilt continues and you watch the advacing
blade bite into the soft earth of the field. It ploughs into it deeply and you
fight with you harness, hoping to get free of the helicopter before…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">The blade snaps. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">The suddenly freed rotor spins faster and
the second advancing blade follows the first. The helicopter cartwheels and the
tail rotor comes into contact with the ground. The tail snaps off, there are
sparks and a sudden plume of fire heralds the fact that the fuel line has
bought it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Your harness lets go and you tumble out of
the craft, a sudden flare of hope making time speed up again. As you hit the
grass and turn to try and run, the helicopter’s body is catapulted toward you
by the fire from the tail. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Oh shit…” you moan.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN-GB">* *
*</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Well that was anticlimactic.” President
Gantly says having reviewed the pilot’s footage of the air accident. “I was
looking forward to listening to the idiot’s explanation of his company’s antics
in this matter. Besides, I wanted to shoot him myself.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">He turns to an aide. “Was there anything
recovered?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">The aide nods. “We have his head. It was
apparently chopped off by a stray piece of rotor, long before the helicopter
actually hit him.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Gantly smiles, a red glint showing in his
eye. “Did Doctor Skin take it?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">The aide looks faintly sick. “Yes, Mr.
President. He’s working on the process now.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Good.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">You wake up.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">You’re vaguely aware that the sun has
risen. Shades of pink paint the inside of your eyelids, while the memory of
last night is a blur of fire and dirt coloured nightmare. You just want to
sleep it off, but your eyes are forced open by insistant fingers.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Welcome back. Although I’m not sure how
welcome you are going to be.” A face with a surgeons mask and cap appears in
your eyeline.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Where am I?” Your voice has a vaguely
artificial sound. “Why can’t I feel anything?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Good, he’s awake.” President Gantly’s
braying baritone brings you fully awake. “Turn him so he can see me.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">You are turned and liquid swirls in front
of your eyes. “What the shit?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Shit is right. You’re in it.” The
president stands and moves up close. He looks a little green and you realise
this is because you are in a glass vat of green liquid. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“I appear to be in water.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Shut up. You didn’t survive intact, but Dr
Skin is a genius when it comes to brains and revival. You shall pay for your
crimes… more than once.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“What?” Gantly is right in front of you so
you can’t see what’s behind him. “What on god’s green earth are you talking
about Arthur?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“This.” He steps aside and you blink in
astonishment. Behind him, in shackles stand rows and rows of you.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“You cloned me? Why?” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“I wasn’t about to let you get away with
dying cleanly in an air accident. Every single country of the world has a
grievance against you…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“What, even Taiwan?” you quip, feeling more
worried by Gantly’s smile than the clones. “Wow, we’re a good looking bunch,
aren’t we. Ladies beware.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“Enough. Each Clone is wi fi’d into what is
left of your nervous system,” He picnches the clone closest to him. You wince,
feeling the sharp pain. “you will feel the pain that the clone is put through.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">“But…”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB">Gantly plows on relentlessly. “As you have
been sentenced to death in every single country of the world, you are going to
die one hundred and ninety six times. I hope you survive, because after that, I
am going to make your afterlife hell.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-GB"><a href="http://chooseordie.blogspot.com/2012/10/ecopocalypse-ch6-cdc-asap.html">Oops...Return to Chapter 6</a></span></div>
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ChooseOrDiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11846103136271509022noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543007477211302995.post-83563752753385848122012-10-15T13:03:00.000-07:002012-10-15T13:03:17.431-07:00ECOPOCALYPSE CH.6 - APPEAL TO ARTIE<center>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></center>
<center>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">ECOPOCALYPSE CH.6 - APPEAL TO ARTIE</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i>By John Elrod</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
So in the Monopoly game of your no good, very bad, shitastic
day, you’ve just managed land on “Go to Hell”; go directly from potential
savior to dead man walking, and do not collect $200. You’re pretty much fucked,
but you’ve come too close to solving this thing to give in, now.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
“This is alright. This is fixable. I’ll just hop on a flight
to D.C. and talk to this Artie character. I’m sure I can show him the new
shitbox and convince him to let me fix this. I mean, I’ve given speeches to
rooms full of billionaires and scientists--and billionaire scientists, of which
there aren’t very many; I can convince some second-tier Jefferson Smith to--”
Your spiel is interrupted.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
“He’s actually on his way here.” Sneedon’s interjection is
weighted heavily in condescension.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
This information kind of kills your zeal for confrontation;
you won’t have nearly enough time to prepare for the meeting, but that
shouldn’t be a problem… because of the earlier thing about all the
speeches--billionaires, etc--that really had a lot more pop when it was coming
from you a few moments ago. That doesn’t matter now. What <i>does</i> matter
now is that this jackass is coming to get you and probably plans to make use of
pomp and circumstance to parade you around in front of big crowds, to make sure
everyone knows “we” are committed to international diplomacy, even if it means
throwing you--their potential hero--to the proverbial lions (you assume the
lions would merely be proverbial, but who really knows?).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Sneedon eagerly returns to the room, after having exited
toward a private conversation, “Artie is going to meet with you right upstairs.
There’s a nice conference room up there for you two to try and come to some
kind of an agreement, okay? I’m really pulling for you to get out of this.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
You try to slowly walk out of the room and make your way
toward the elevators, but Sneedon is really pushing you along. Maybe he wants
some alone time with Madge? You could tell him he’s barking up the wrong
vagina, there, but it’s always more entertaining when they find out for
themselves. You barely have time for parting remarks before he’s ushered you
into the elevator and you’re back to the solitary confinement of one of these
moving boxes. This elevator differs greatly from your own, though; it’s
littered with fliers and the air is smothered by that damn Muzak… and the
torturous dinging. How any of these CDC bastards can get any thinking done is
beyond you.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Following your dreadful ride up 18 floors, you exit Dante’s
infernal elevator to a dark, cavernous corridor, and you’re carrying an even
emptier head. Sneedon rushed you out of there so quickly, and the elevator ride
was so hellish, that you’ve not managed to prepare a single coercive word for
this Artie fellow.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<i>I’ll wing it; piece of cake.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Your thoughts have returned, but they aren’t quite as
helpful as you would have hoped. Nevertheless.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
Your feet chirp against a clearly government-issued
linoleum, as you struggle to make your way toward a single light at the end of
the seemingly abandoned level of this building. With every step, your knees
grow weaker, your stomach churns tighter, and each breath of the cold,
medicinal air reaches ever heavier heights. There’s something wrong here.
Wouldn’t Artie have security guards? Shouldn’t Secret Service members be
frisking you harder than a horny TSA agent, right about now? This isolation
doesn’t make any sense. Then it hits you; Admiral Ackbar is screaming out from
the mind of the childhood movie marathons you and Madge used to have on rainy
weekends: this is a trap.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
You turn for the elevator, but it’s too late. There, amidst
the silence that permeates everything that isn’t you, barks the smallest crunch
of splintering glass. There is to be no pageantry to your death; you will not
be paraded across the world’s stage to appease the chattering crowds of a
global lynch mob. Your demise is a relatively uneventful one; an assassination
carried out by some Jack Bauer wannabe from the roof of some adjacent building.
He’s probably not even occupying his carefully chosen perch, anymore. No, he
did his duty, and now you’ve been left to ponder what could have come of your
plan to save the day, as your shoe lets forth a final chirp against the cheap
flooring, and you stumble into the light.<br />
<br />
<b><a href="http://chooseordie.blogspot.com/2012/10/ecopocalypse-ch6-cdc-asap.html">Oops...Return To Chapter 6</a></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
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ChooseOrDiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11846103136271509022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543007477211302995.post-84457685041712788252012-10-08T08:19:00.001-07:002012-10-19T08:44:45.610-07:00ECOPOCALYPSE CH.6 - "C.D.C, A.S.A.P."<center>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn6GKyIFHD7WLAM-xDJfAmhr7v0IVBruocitFcVwxYtOmlkwIkT7vee77_58HOXd4SwVf4XIV6btwvSQlk_qBPltcKtqGiFvFr86u1Z28dnZFksYJKi7bLFRTjsvkAg-5QL6LlJQmn6J4/s500/189432_509134632445723_1171005126_n.jpg" /></span></center>
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>ECOPOCALYPSE CH.6 - "C.D.C., A.S.A.P." </b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>by James McShane
</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Your trip to the Centre for
Disease Control Headquarters allows you time to calm yourself down and indulge
in a little family bonding with your sister. You and Madge never saw eye-to-eye
on many things over the years, but when she brought back her first girlfriend
and introduced Suzi Ching to Mom, you stormed out of the house and wouldn’t
come back until they’d both left. This incident made Thanksgiving and Christmas
holidays a hornets’ nest for the next fifteen years. It’s not your fault you’re
a bigot; society made you that way. You wish you could turn back time and make
things right again, a-la Sam Beckett and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Quantum
Leap</i>. But going by your recent experience with inventions, any time machine
you built would probably result in the Nazis winning World War II and the San
Francisco 49ers winning Superbowl from now until Doomsday. Neither of these
possible events sit well with you. You are who you are – now deal with it. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You turn
to Madge and say, “Hey, sis, remember that time you and Suzi…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Shut the
fuck up!” Madge replies into her headphone. “I’ve not yet forgiven you for
that,” she continues. “However, if you can in any way make <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">this"</i>—she points down below at the shit- and blood-stained
streets—"better, maybe this Christmas I’ll buy you something nice.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“I always
wanted a pony,” you say wistfully.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“I was
thinking more of a one-way trip to fucking Jupiter.” She turns to you. “I hear
it’s nice this time of year.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;">Madge has mellowed over the years</span></i><span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;">, you surmise.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Are we
there yet?” you ask, changing the subject. You’re the pilot, and you know how
long the journey takes, but you <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really </i>want
to move on from all this bitterness.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Two
minutes,” Madge replies. “I rang ahead. The president’s guy at the CDC is
expecting us. You better know what you’re doing.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“It’s
like we said earlier, Madge. Whoever’s lost is gone forever. The only way I can
fix this is so it never happens again. I hope this joker listens to me.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Who else
is he going to listen to? The Ayatollah?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You grunt
in mock agreement. The sooner this finishes, the better civilisation can get
going again. You <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">will </i>make this
right.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You hope.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As you
bring the helicopter down on the roof of CDCHQ, you experience a bad feeling in
the pit of your stomach. There must be at least twenty CDC goons as your
welcoming party. They have guns. Lots of guns. As you and Madge step out, a
goon in a hazmat grabs you by the arm and throws you to the ground.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“So
you’re the fucker who’s responsible for this eco-Apocalypse?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You raise
your hand and introduce yourself. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” you
add. He slaps you across your face with a gloved palm. “I didn’t think I was
this popular,” you mumble.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A voice
from behind your assailant calls out. “Easy, Ernie. Let’s not give the CEO too
hard a time. After all, amends must be made. Bring them down to the lab.” The
new guy, who you assume must be the president’s eyes and ears in CDC, points to
Madge, who is carrying the new and improved Environaut from the helicopter. He
pulls you up and offers his hand.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Jack Sneedon, President’s Liaison,
CDC.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You both
shake. “I take it you’re aware of what we have here?” you say. “With the
improvements I made to the original design…”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Yeah, I
know,” he says as his colleagues move Madge and the devise into the roof
elevator. “Your sister filled me in over the phone. Some shit about
co-coolants. I don’t get it.” He fixes you with a steely glare. “But I’m hoping
you do.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Once
more, you hope.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Down in
the lab, you unpack all your equipment and prepare for a demonstration of the
Environaut. You look around and see that the place is spotless. No blood. No
shit. “You’ve been cooped up here all this time?” you ask. “No breaches of
security? No Shithead Zombies?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sneedon
shrugs. “One or two got through the main gate, but that’s all. Our guys are
clean and good to go. What about you?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Your head
drops. “I lost my Mom and my best friend.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“I’m
sorry for your loss,” Sneedon replies curtly, “but we’ve no time for
sentimentality. We can grieve our dead later – provided we don’t become one of
them. Set her up and let’s see what she can do.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The
demonstration works like a charm. After thirty minutes of further testing,
Sneedon and his cohorts are less agitated than they were when they met you on
the roof. It didn’t stop Hazmat Man from slapping you once more, this time with
feeling.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sneedon
takes out his phone. “Wake up the president!” he barks. “Tell him I have good
news.” His face loses several shades of natural colour. “What the fuck?” he
roars. “When the hell did <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">that</i>
happen?” He finds a nearby chair and just about manages to flop into it. He
rubs his hand over the top of his head. He appears to be sobbing. “Artie’s in
charge? Holy sweet fuck!” He ends the call and looks at you.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You feel
a hand at your shoulder. It’s Madge, getting all sisterly like. “What’s going
on?” she asks.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Turn on
the TV,” is Sneedon’s response.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On the
big screen there is a shot of the White House. The ticker at the bottom of the
screen reads: “President and Vice-President invoke 25<sup>th</sup> Amendment.
Speaker of the House, Arthur Gantly becomes President of the United States.
News conference to follow shortly.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You look
at Sneedon. “They must have fallen foul of…the foulness.” Now you sound like a
badly written twelve volume fantasy epic.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“You got
that right,” Sneedon says. “Artie is out baying for blood. Your blood.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“What do
you mean?” Madge asks before you can even formulate the question yourself.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“My man
at the West Wing says China, Russia and the entire Arab nation wants your head
on a platter. They’re having their own problems and the only way they can
placate their citizens is to ask for your public execution.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span lang="EN-IE" style="line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You gulp.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Now that your life is on the , do you:</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><b><a href="http://chooseordie.blogspot.com/2012/10/ecopocalypse-ch6-call-it-quits.html">A. Offer to turn yourself over to the bloodthirsty masses, hoping your self-sacrificial gesture will change Artie's mind?</a></b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><b><a href="http://chooseordie.blogspot.com/2012/10/ecopocalypse-appeal-to-artie.html">B. Appeal to Artie directly and show him your new and improved Environaut? He's not that much of a nut, is he?</a></b></span></span><br />
<a href="http://chooseordie.blogspot.com/2012/10/ecopocalypse-ch7-batman-reigns.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><b>C. Do what every self-respecting person would do in a situation like </b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><b>this - run?</b></span></a></div>
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ChooseOrDiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11846103136271509022noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543007477211302995.post-34486253605469408692012-09-22T13:55:00.000-07:002012-09-22T13:55:17.678-07:00ECOPOCALYPSE CH.5 - SHIT STORM<center>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn6GKyIFHD7WLAM-xDJfAmhr7v0IVBruocitFcVwxYtOmlkwIkT7vee77_58HOXd4SwVf4XIV6btwvSQlk_qBPltcKtqGiFvFr86u1Z28dnZFksYJKi7bLFRTjsvkAg-5QL6LlJQmn6J4/s500/189432_509134632445723_1171005126_n.jpg" /></span></center>
<br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">ECOPOCALYPSE CH.5 - SHIT STORM </span></b><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">By Annie Evett
</span></i><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></i>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; font-style: italic; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #2a2a2a; font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You grab Madge’s hand, realising that she was always
the strong one in the family. She had been the one to teach you to ride a bike,
pick you up, and put a band-aid on your scraped knee. She’d beaten up the
bullies in the school yard. Hell, her best friend had been your first conquest.
You’d always suspected she had been behind that and, looking in to her eyes,
you are now sure that she is the one who has been behind everything good in
your life.</span></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Madge , You go. Get the unit over to the CDC. You’re
the best one for the job. I belong here. I should never have been the president
of this dumb company. You should have. You would never have gotten us
into all this.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Shit.” she smiled. “No I wouldn't have, but
them’s the breaks, huh?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You fiddle with the unit and make some unnecessary
adjustments, unsure of what to say. Sharing emotions had never been one of the
family’s strong points. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Well?” Madge taps the table next to the control box
of the unit. “You coming or what?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“I’ll stay. The unit is good to go, as good as I can
get it right now. I’ll keep making adjustments and try and work out how to
speed up the process. Something. I dunno. You better go. The President is
waiting for us. For you. Go and save what's left of humanity, huh?” You
flick on the security camera system and pan around the hallway.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Looks like any of the zombies that were here have
moved on,” you snigger, attempting to stifle your own bad joke, but then break
down into fits of hysterical laughter.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Madge slaps you across the face—except it's an
oversized mitt thumping your fishbowl face helmet.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> “Oh, grow up. What is it about shit and farts
that boys never grow out of?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You collapse with more laughter, gasping for air in
your hazmat suit.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Later. Keep your hazmat suit on. The place is
contaminated. Lord knows when or if the cleanup will start. Keep on geeking.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You knock ham sized fists together, repeating your
childhood motto.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She saunters out of the lab door. You watch her till
the suit disappears up the hallway. The silence buzzes in your ears as the
light in the corner of the room continues to blink. You see her helicopter make
its way across the sky. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The hazmat suit is cumbersome as you attempt to perch
on the lab stool. Your oversized fingers are clumsy, and it's not long before
you consider taking the whole lot off so you can start to pull one of the
Environauts apart and explore every component. You have no idea what else to
do. Here seems as safe a place to hang out and wait until the shit storm
blows over. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A buzzer sounds as the corner light slows its blink.
You stare at it and as moments pass; the blink eventually fades to a continual
beam. The buzzer stops and a door unlatches. You stand and go over to the door,
not remembering having seen it before. As you approach you realise that it had
been concealed within the texture of the wall, and only as it opens that the
outline reveals its position. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You flush with anger and indignation. This was your
lab, damn it. Who the hell had hidden doors leading off into the unknown in your
own lab? You turn the door handle. The space behind it is lit with floor
lights and appears to be a large storage room. As you step inside, general
lighting is automatically turned on to reveal rows of cages of now deceased,
rotting animals. You are glad you hadn’t taken the hazmat suit off, but gag at
the thought of what the smell might be like.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Dogs, cats, rats and squirrels slump inside their
cages. Most are surrounded by puke and shit. Your heart squeezes at the sight
of these helpless creatures, who have obviously died in a great amount of pain
and suffering. Your head spins, wondering where in the process animal
testing had a place in your facility. You sadly realise you have been
disconnected from the research unit for over a year, and anything could have
been passed by you to sign and you’d not really taken any notice—another reason
Madge should have been the CEO and not you. She would never have allowed animal
testing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A rattle in the corner shakes you from your
depression. Your heart skips. Something is still alive. Perhaps you can do some
sort of good today.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Crouched in one of the larger cages sits an emaciated
orangutan. Its orange hair sticks out at right angles from its bony body. It
looks up at you with its intelligent, pleading eyes. He gingerly puts out his
hand through the bars. You hold back a tear and reach over to touch it,
entranced by the gentle moment of trust. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The ape quickly grasps your wrist and pulls you toward
the cage. Its other limbs thrust out of the cage and grab hold of your suit.
Your feet scrap against the metal flooring, sliding and finding no purchase as
you are pulled in.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The ape grins and peels your helmet off. You try to
hold your breath, but are at last forced to take a deep breath, gagging at the
putrid smell of death and feces. The orangutan's lips pucker towards you as a
dribble of brown trickles down its face. Your struggle renews as you realise
that it is dying from the same virus affecting all the zombies. It bares its
teeth. You scream, “But you’re a vegetarian! Everyone knows that.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The orangutan's mouth covers your scream. A mixture of
vomit and shit warmed by the body gushes from the ape's mouth into yours. You
feel its arms and legs tighten around you and your are slowly crushed against
the bars of the cage. You feel your organs bursting as blood pours from your
ears and eyes. You die screaming, clutched in the strong arms of a giant orange
ape.<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: white; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0in;">
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="http://chooseordie.blogspot.com/2012/09/ecopocalypse-ch5-home-sweet-lab.html">Oops...return to Chapter 5</a></span></b></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<center>
<a href="http://annieevett.com/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8PgqT66L87Y-3-ofAIIBYn5NcphNpARVBvxBBYgw7fntz-O5Zg8d_As9wGmoku4iYs8RBQbqYRs1i3L5EIePgHmwAKU4drMQCVFV13UTplJmYUs9cVdF8TWpkh9pjbNZS4PkpY2Zvad8/" /></a><center>
</center>
</center>
ChooseOrDiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11846103136271509022noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543007477211302995.post-82248458805475060402012-09-21T07:31:00.004-07:002012-09-21T07:31:48.512-07:00ECOPOCALYPSE CH. 5 - YOU'RE A SCIENTIST!<center>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn6GKyIFHD7WLAM-xDJfAmhr7v0IVBruocitFcVwxYtOmlkwIkT7vee77_58HOXd4SwVf4XIV6btwvSQlk_qBPltcKtqGiFvFr86u1Z28dnZFksYJKi7bLFRTjsvkAg-5QL6LlJQmn6J4/s500/189432_509134632445723_1171005126_n.jpg" /></span></center>
<br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">ECOPOCALYPSE CH.5 - YOU'RE A SCIENTIST!</span></b><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> By Wayne Depriest</span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You’ve got
one chance to get this right; one chance to turn the tide; one chance to get
you and Madge and the rest of humanity out of the shithole and back to
normalcy. You need an antidote and you need it fast. You’re a scientist, for
shit’s sake! You made the mess, even if it was some cost-conscious, bottom
line-watching asstard who made the decision to use mercury. there’s no time to
use any of the normal <span style="background: white;">chelating agents like DMSA
or DMPS. You need something that’s gonna flush the mercury out of a person’s
system in minutes, an hour at most. It’s the damn mercury vapor that’s the
problem. Get the unaffected to stop breathing until the units are stabilized is
the perfect answer—not realistic, but perfect. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
<span style="background: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Meanwhile, back on Planet Gonetoshit, there are hordes
of shit zombies sludging through the facility. For the moment you and Madge are
safe. You’ve got some favors to call in; people who owe you big time and who
can get some shit done in a hurry. You need to develop an antidote for those
affected, one that will reverse the manure mange—or at least halt its
progression through the body.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
<span style="background: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You flip back the hood of the hazmat suit, pick up the
phone and punch 9 for an outside line, an idea twisting through your head. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">If we can get the...</i> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
<span style="background: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You get no dial tone. You punch 9 again. Same thing. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
<span style="background: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“How the hell do I call in favors if I can’t make a
call?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
<span style="background: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“There’s no time for that anyway,” Madge<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>urges. “You have to do something and
you have to do it fast.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
<span style="background: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Even if I make an antidote, how do we get it out and
dispensed? I can’t even call for FedEx.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
<span style="background: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“You’re the scientist. Just make the antidote. We’ll
worry about getting it delivered later.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
<span style="background: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You race over to the bench and start slinging test
tubes and pipettes around like you know what you’re doing. But you don’t. You’re
not a chemist, for God’s sake. You’re an industrial engineer. You throw some of
this in a tube, add a pinch of that, some more of whatever this is and the damn
thing blows up in your face. It burns like a bastard, but your eyes seem
unaffected. The bright blue cloud of vapor floats across the lab and envelopes
a pile of some former lab assistant. The congealed pile of crap starts to
reshape itself into something resembling a human being. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
<span style="background: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“That’s it!” screams Madge. “That’s it!” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
<span style="background: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“What the hell is it?” you scream back at her.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
<span style="background: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“You made it—don’t you know?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
<span style="background: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Hell no.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
<span style="background: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“You have to make some more. Lots more.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
<span style="background: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You spend another twenty minutes trying to duplicate
the formula. Finally you get a controlled batch, one that doesn’t explode. A
good thing, too. You’re about out of hair. You get it into an atomizer and
start working on a bigger batch, something you can push through the ventilation
system here. That will give you enough time to make more and somehow get the
formula out to other labs. You can have this thing whipped by tomorrow morning
and be the hero again. There’s just one problem.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It’s that
damn blinking light in the corner. Madge doesn’t see it. Or doesn’t know what
it means. But you do. And you realize that all the determination in the world
isn’t going to change what is about to happen. That little blinking light is a
security breach indicator. Normally it glows with a soft steady light. When it
blinks it means that someone has entered the security zone in an unauthorized
manner. There’s always a guy monitoring that light. It’s his only job. When it
blinks he’s trained to respond by pushing some buttons or something that will lock
down the core of the lab inside a series of sheet steel walls that might yield
to a nuclear weapon. Might. Anything less is like hitting a brick wall with a
toasted marshmallow.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But Mr
Security Breach Guy isn’t there. Well, he is, but he’s not much use as a slush
pile of chunky diarrhea overflowing the office chair. And from the way the damn
light is flashing, there isn’t any time to batten down the hatches, even if you
knew how to batten down anything. Which you don’t. About the only thing you can
do is try to get you and Madge out before the shit storm hits. The stool
zombies aren’t going to care about a cure and the little atomizer isn’t enough
for the mounds of muck on the way. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Of course, by
this time there is no getting out. Cameras are showing hordes of shittards
scraping along the corridors on the way to the lab. Every exit is blocked by
shuffling schools of shit zombies, putrid poop pods plodding toward the lab.
You and Madge ain’t in deep shit yet, but it won’t be long.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You search
frantically for anything that will help. Of course there isn’t anything. You
and your sister are on your own. For a minute you think about throwing her to
the zombies. Maybe it will give you enough time to get away. You look at her
and realize she’s thinking about making <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">you</i>
the star of the Fecal Follies. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“What the
hell are we going to do?” You can’t seem to control the panic.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Just calm
down. Let me think.” Madge waves a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">shush </i>hand
at you like your mother did when she wanted quiet. It doesn’t work for Madge
either.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“What’s there
to think about? We’re dead. They’ll rip these hazmat suits off us like
underwear at an orgy.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 37.05pt;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Spray
ourselves with the formula,” Madge exclaims. “Even if they get us, we won’t
turn to shit. We can fake dying and hold out until they leave.”</span></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">You take a gigantic hit from the atomizer,
sucking it deep into your lungs as Madge removes her helmet and reaches for the
antidote. Just as she’s squeezing the mist into her mouth you feel your lungs
ignite. You have time to see Madge’s eyes widen in surprise before your lungs
explode and flames engulf her face.</span><!--EndFragment-->
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><b><a href="http://chooseordie.blogspot.com/2012/09/ecopocalypse-ch5-home-sweet-lab.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Oops...return to Chapter 5</span></a></b></span><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias=stripbooks&field-keywords=wayne+depriest&x=0&y=0"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4OP4KPyyTGjlcHXyN8Y67aEDfHWwehNH2OSwwU7iJeqx4MPYEjl2HTAOcbIuS79vdfoi-HoSlWmOfDQoi-rlMbRWFal4XLU85dLkvM5r04Q1BDqU14i4znVTrumulRuHIM36ZU6-IYvA/s520/COD_Waynes.jpg" /></a>ChooseOrDiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11846103136271509022noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543007477211302995.post-58378710616502542762012-09-17T09:28:00.000-07:002012-10-08T08:25:47.026-07:00ECOPOCALYPSE CH.5 - HOME SWEET LAB<center>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn6GKyIFHD7WLAM-xDJfAmhr7v0IVBruocitFcVwxYtOmlkwIkT7vee77_58HOXd4SwVf4XIV6btwvSQlk_qBPltcKtqGiFvFr86u1Z28dnZFksYJKi7bLFRTjsvkAg-5QL6LlJQmn6J4/s500/189432_509134632445723_1171005126_n.jpg" /></span></center>
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>ECOPOCALYPSE CH.5 - HOME SWEET LAB</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>By Matthew C. Plourde</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Your hands shake as you connect the wires to the
companion cooling tank. Sweat greases your fingers. Your face rotates between
flushed and clammy. You know you’re not sick. This is just that sinking feeling
you get before totally losing it. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Mum and Milo are dead. Your life is dissolving to shit
around you. And you may be responsible for more deaths than any other
individual in the history of the human race.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Great. And here you are, affixing a souped-up coolant
tank to a shitter.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Flush the release chamber. Connect the ground. Wipe brow
through the hazmat suit. Release the gas into the vapor chamber. Fill the
caustic chamber—slowly. Steady hands.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“The suit will protect you,” Madge says, her voice
muffled behind her oversized, protective helmet.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Deciding she could do more good at the lab, Madge decided
to accompany you in the helicopter. Though you saw a few sludge zombies
shambling around the outside of the building, the lab’s only reminder of their
presence is long streaks of fudge along the walls and floors. Thank God for the
hazmat suit!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“There,” you declare, stepping away from the Environaut
as it quietly purrs to life.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Madge steps to your side. “What did you do?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Connected a supplemental cooling system to account for
the caustic soda from the mercury. It should block the mercury poison from
going gaseous and causing… well, you know.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She looks into your eyes and asks, “Should?” Memories of
your childhood together leap to your mind—it was a typical Madge <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I’m not sure you know what you’re doing </i>expression.
She wore that look a lot. You never were in control of anything. Especially not
now.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This time, however, you know your own stuff. Milo’s notes
refreshed your memory about some early mercury units which failed. Milo had a
solution. The co-coolant unit will do the trick, but you slouch into a chair
when you realize the truth.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“It’ll work,” you say, defeated. “But what’s the point?
We can’t produce and get this out to millions of units today. I’m not a fuckin’
medical doctor or pharm expert. I can’t make a cure for the mercury poisoning.
All I can do is fix the Environaut, not the frothing feces-flingers. The damage
is already done.” You kick the table. “Shit.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Never one to surrender, Madge puts her hands on her hips
and stares down at you. “You fucked up. Fine. That’s in the past. I told the
president’s CDC liaison that we’ll have a fix for the millions of units in
American homes.” She turns to the altered Environaut on the table. “Am I
looking at that fix?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You nod, still empty with defeat. Only one thing makes
sense.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“We just have to wait it out,” you say, your voice barely
a whisper.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Wait. What?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You glance at your sister and say, “The people know to
avoid the Environauts. And those who have used them are fucked anyway. Without
a cure, we’ll have some new infections crop up. We just have to give this
design to whoever can mass produce and distribute installations of it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“The president ordered the shutdown of all power grids!”
Madge said. “And who knows how many can respond to that request. For all we
know, the employees have been turned into shit zombies, headed home to try and
save their families—or died in the chaos.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She’s right. How could anyone possibly manufacture and
distribute this fix to millions of homes across America and the world? Never
mind convincing thousands of skilled handymen/women to install the units while
poo monsters fling chocolate sludge-pies at them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A laugh escapes your lips involuntarily. Then another.
Soon, you are cackling like a maniac as you realize what you've really done:
you caused the apocalypse. It wasn’t meteors or aliens or nuclear war that did
the earth in; it was you and your magical toilet.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You close your eyes to the world and laugh because it’s
the only thing that makes sense at the moment. The only thing keeping you
totally from the dark chasm of total insanity. The only thing you can do.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Eventually, you snap out of your moment of hysteria and
only the occasional half-laugh interrupts you.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Madge sighs. “Wow. Thought I lost you there for a moment.
What the fuck was that?”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You don’t answer as you keep your dead eyes fixed on a
blinking light near the corner of the room.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Well, I don’t think that’s an option,” she says. “Let’s
get this unit to the CDC and see if they can help. It’s why they exist, after
all.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You look up at your sister and see determination in
her eyes.</span></span><!--EndFragment-->
<br />
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>What do you do?</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><a href="http://chooseordie.blogspot.com/2012/09/ecopocalypse-ch5-shit-storm.html">A. Hole up in the lab and wait out the shit storm. It'll all blow over, right?</a></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><a href="http://chooseordie.blogspot.com/2012/10/ecopocalypse-ch6-cdc-asap.html">B. Go with Madge to the CDC with the fixed Environaut. They will will know what to do, right?</a></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><a href="http://chooseordie.blogspot.com/2012/09/ecopocalypse-ch-5-youre-scientist.html">C. Get your shit together and call in all your favors--maybe you CAN make an antidote to save the poo zombie population. You are a scientist, after all...</a></b></span></span><br />
<br />
<center>
<b><a href="http://chooseordie.blogspot.com/2011/07/hardwood-blood-ch3-no-coincidences.html"></a></b> <center>
<a href="https://matthewcplourde.wordpress.com/"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1abCi1mOQRryYZb3SBLgXQgndzlm5EoB9EnYwgwIVxD6smtXk2wJx_hoYGNMZStAS_AuXnfDfSTdWyfD2JFqLJikNpRkqiUZL2WEHoaDq_nGvCn-ZudJcyTaxq75Jtjy_fXMS5RykLws/" /></a></center>
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ChooseOrDiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11846103136271509022noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543007477211302995.post-15000880290642408312012-09-14T08:37:00.000-07:002012-10-19T08:34:08.533-07:00ECOPOCALYPSE CH. 4 - I WANT MY DADDY<center>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn6GKyIFHD7WLAM-xDJfAmhr7v0IVBruocitFcVwxYtOmlkwIkT7vee77_58HOXd4SwVf4XIV6btwvSQlk_qBPltcKtqGiFvFr86u1Z28dnZFksYJKi7bLFRTjsvkAg-5QL6LlJQmn6J4/s500/189432_509134632445723_1171005126_n.jpg" /></span></center>
<br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">ECOPOCALYPSE CH. 4 - I WANT MY DADDY</span></b><br />
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">By Nandy Ekle</span></i><br />
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<!--StartFragment-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He’s gone. Milo is gone. Your best friend’s death is like a
sharp finger poking you right in the middle of your forehead. You’re sitting
across from Madge and she’s just going on and on, talking about what you have
to do to fix this, but all you can think about is the fact that Milo died in a
stew of his own sewage.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Hello?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Earth
to Mr. Poopy President. Are you listening to me at all?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You look up from where your eyes are fixated, staring at a
brown stain under your fingernail. Where exactly had that brown stain come
from? Was it from the flying fecal matter at your house as you ran away? And
what about that running away thing? What kind of leader runs away from his
problems? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You look up into Madge’s eyes. “What?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“I said, what kind of a leader runs from his problem?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A gasp blasts out of your mouth. Did she read your mind? You’re
sure you thought the question up yourself; or did she plant it in your brain?
Does she have psychic abilities you never knew about? And how come you never
got a share of that?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“I, um . . .”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Her eyebrows are scrunched up and her mouth is posed in a
pucker as if she actually expects you to say something intelligent. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The answer suddenly pierces through your consciousness.
Screw it! Screw them all! Your business is tanked. Your reputation looks like
the offending crap all over your house. Your best friend is dead. And now your
sister demands you pay attention to her as if she were the smartest person in
the world. You don’t need this. You don’t need any of it and you damn sure
don’t have to put up with it.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You stand up and turn your back to her in mid-sentence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Go to hell,” you say as you walk
toward the door.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Get back here! We have to get this worked out!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You run out the door and head for the stairs leading up to
the roof. You need to get away just for a moment to mourn Milo, your mom, your
career, your life. You need . . . fishing. Madge said your dad was on the yacht
in the Pacific. You feel a sudden urge to pull on Daddy’s pant leg and beg to
be hugged and rocked to sleep.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As you reach the roof you jump in the chopper and aim it
toward the west, your main thought: “I want my daddy!” The sun glints off the
water below you—or is it the water leaking from your eye? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Surprisingly, Dad’s boat is not far out on the sea and the
size of the yacht makes it easy enough to spot. Lowering the copter to the deck
you jump out of the aircraft. You see your sixty-year-old father running toward<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=3543007477211302995" name="_GoBack"></a> you. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Dad!” You throw your arms out to him as you yell his name.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Instead of taking you in his arms for a comforting paternal
hug, he pulls his fist back and punches you a hard one across your jaw. Rubbing
your face, you look at the man who raised you. “What the?” You ask in a stunned
tone.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Get the hell off my boat, you murderer!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“It wasn’t my fault! The lab substituted components in the formula!
I didn’t do it! I swear!”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“You sold those things all over the world and got rich off
people’s doody, boy. I don’t want your disease close to me. I don’t want
anything to do with you again. Now get this confounded whirlybird off my boat
before I throw you and your toy overboard.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“But you’re my dad. You’re supposed to be on my side.” The
man who had helped you build a Pine Derby race car for scouts when you were
eight years old now looks as though he would harpoon you like a whale and gut
you like a fish. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“My wife is gone, and your sister probably will be too if
she keeps working with your zombies. Even the dog died. You’re no boy of mine.”
He takes a couple of steps toward you. “I didn’t raise you to turn the world
into sewer zombies.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As you stand there rubbing your jaw, your father grabs your
arm, runs you to the side of the boat and pushes you over. You hit the water
and the only thought in your head is that the brown stain under your fingernail
will finally be washed away. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The rhythmic sound of a cello plays from somewhere in the
air. Your dad looks not in your direction, but past you. He laughs and points,
and you’re afraid he’s gone crazy and will jump in and drown you. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As you start to swim toward the yacht, the cello music gets
louder and more intense. Then a new thought jumps into your mind as you feel
something massive brush against your leg. You know that music! As the identity
of the sound gels in your mind you see the circle of red around you grow
larger. Suddenly your left leg is cold. LEG? What leg? You realize your left
leg is missing and the blood is coming from you. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You open your mouth to scream for your daddy when the giant
great white shark clamps on your other leg and pulls you under.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="http://chooseordie.blogspot.com/2012/09/ecopocalypse-ch4-to-chopper.html">Oops...return to chapter 4</a></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-top: 12.0pt;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman';"><br /></span></div>
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