Obi-wan and wombie: I went ahead and put together member bits for you guys, using your old weapons. Whenever you guys find a new one to fit in there, let me know and I'll update it.

Terminator 4: Rise of the Raelians

Warning: The following story contains pirate references, horribly out of date characters, and no new faces (you'll be in the next one, I promise!). The plan is, since Killa will post his outdated story after mine, it will be fresher in everyone's memory, so they will complain more about his than mine.

It will also sound like the unfocused ravings of a lunatic without reading the first part. Okay, it still sounds crazy after that, but it's not quite as bad.

As per usual, nothing said here should be taken seriously. The sooner you forget it, the better off we'll all be.


Previously on "The Ripoff Movie Channel" (aka the posse thread):





And now, the conclusion...


Cotal burst out laughing.

"Me and Ray? You've got to be kidding me!"

"The records speak for themselves. Somehow, he pulls it off. We don't know how, but we have to find out, and stop him."

"But how?"

"Don't worry. I know some people who could help us. They're great, they're like super-heroes. Well, when they were in their prime, at least..."



Freedom Farce

Quack stared at the ceiling.

"I don't get it, Doctor. I just don't get it. I thought the pirates were all about getting pissed and doing stupid things, and the southern pirates would be the roughest of the lot. But all they do is recite the contents of their wine cellars. It's like a poetry recital, only we've got people in the back row nodding and saying 'Oh, that's a good drop, that is', and 'That was a great year for the reds'. All I've got is a six-pack of coldies and heineys in the fridge, and a bottle of bourbon on the floor. Oh, and the tequila under the bed, of course. So what? Is that so wrong?"

Dr Quinn snarled. She was getting so sick of these counseling sessions.

"Look", she snapped, "just get out there and sort this out with your bloody wino mates."

She opened the door and booted out the duck.

"Why can't I find a real man around here?" she asked herself.


---


Killa picked Quack up off the ground and sat him up against the wall.

"How's the counseling going?"

"Pretty good. I'm really making progress, I think."

Killa looked around the room.

"Great, we've got quorum, we can start now. Hear ye, hear ye! This meeting of the Wino Support Group is now in session. Jaws, I believe you had more to say from our last meeting?"

"I'm not always drunk... only during waking hours." Jaws slurred.

"Have you heard from the others?" asked Hurley.

"I'm sure they'll be along -"

Cypher kicked the door open and stomped over to his seat, screaming into a communicator all the way.

"No, you shut up! You listen to me, damn it! Who works for who here? That's right, you work for me! You represent ME! I don't care what those network clowns say! You tell them I'm the only Bundy Bear out there that isn't some stooge in a bear suit! The ratings show the fans love me! If they're not prepared to pay extra for the real deal, I'm walking."

Cypher slammed the flip-top shut and sat down.

"Sorry, guys, just had to take care of business."

Wombat waddled in, with a noticeable limp.

"What's your excuse, then?" asked the penguin.

"Copped another wooden sword. I swear, with all those pirates breeding like rabbits, the Frisky Wombat Daycare Center is a hell-hole. Do you have any idea how many times those kids poke me in a single day? I swear, one more poke, just one, and I'm jumping ship!"

"All right, can we get back to business? Jaws, please continue."

Jaws grinned, and was just about to regale the posse with some chunder-blunder stores from his last big night out, when Cotal walked into the room. Quack immediately chucked the stubbie he'd been holding, grabbed a bottle of pinot from the table, and took a swig, trying to look more cultured in front of Cotal. "Nice drop, this is. Very, um, er... cultured..." he declared in the snobbiest voice he could manage.

Killa tapped his shoulder. "You don't look very cultured." The duck looked at his reflection in the bottle. He screamed, and dropped it.

Cotal looked behind her. "These are your superheroes?".

A blonde woman stepped in. She eyed the motley crew of animals, then strode towards the bundy bear with a smile.

Cypher jumped up. All those Bundy ads had paid off, and here was the first of the many groupies he'd hopefully have.

"Hello, daddy." said the blonde as she gave the bear a bear hug.

Cypher's heart missed a beat. He tried to remember who he'd been doing twenty-five years ago, but it was all a blur.


---


Captain Ashlyn Pax, Space Marine, told them all about the future. Ray's seduction of Cotal, the love child, the Raelian domination, and Ashlyn's mission to prevent it - everything. When her story was finished, the pirates looked at each other, waiting for inspiration.

"Fifteen years from now, huh?" asked Wombat.
"That's right."

Wombat pulled out his datapad, set an alarm to go off in fifteen years, and started hibernating. Cypher kicked him.
"Wombats can't hibernate, you tool. But bears can. Gimme that datapad."

Cypher quickly swiped the datapad from Wombie, collapsed on a couch, and began to snore loudly. The wombat muttered grumpily to himself, and waddled off to the nearest medical storage cabinet, determined to find enough drugs to make a fifteen-year hibernation possible.

As Wombat left, the group disbanded, and everyone slowly headed off to their quarters. Saving the world was all well and good, but even fierce creatures such as these needed a good night's sleep. On a comfortable mattress, of course, with a nice, fluffy pillow. They'd think of something half-decent in the morning.

Captain Ashlyn looked around the empty room (well, empty apart from the snoring bear), and sighed.

"I'd forgotten how lazy these guys were."



Insomnia

Hurley slyly opened one eye, and listened in the darkness. All clear. He crept to the doorway, and inched his way down the corridor, careful not to wake up any of the pirates in the nearby rooms. He headed towards the rec room, eager to quench his thirst for his secret desire - smutty SBS Euro movies with gratuitous nudity. Quack's wookie porn just didn't do it for Hurley. Hurley could have easily commissioned a film to his own tastes, but in his cold, black heart, he was a cheapskate. Instead, he would watch SBS, block out the subtitles, and imagine that the women in the movies were saying things like "I don't care if you're a flightless bird! I still think you're sexy!"

He picked up his pace, eager to catch the beginning of the Uberkranknosglick sisters' latest movie. He opened the door to the rec room - and saw Quack parked on the couch. The duck eyed him curiously. Hurley took a deep breath, and asked the question, hoping against all hope that he had found someone who enjoyed bizarre ethnic movies as much as he did.

"So... um... you watching SBS?"

"Nar, mate. I'm doing something useful, checking up on all the latest infomercials. Those steak knives make nice toothpicks, you know. Have a look, you might see something you like."

Hurls didn't want any infomercial junk, but Quack would get suspicious if he didn't watch. So, Hurls sighed, grabbed the remote, and started flicking around the stations.

(click)

*Have you found the girl of your dreams, only to discover she thinks you're a knob? That won't be a problem any longer, thanks to Theoden's Magic Match-Maker! For only 49.95 bcs, we'll have her thinking you're the greatest thing since sliced bread! Call now! (Charm spell costs 4.95 bcs a minute to maintain. Spell components not included.)*

"Hey, couldn't Ray just cast another spell on Cotal to have his way?" inquired the penguin.
"We broke the spell once at the peace ball, remember? Now she's immune."
"Oh, yeah."

(click)

*How long do you think it would take to cook a big Drengin like this?*, asked the on-screen chef. *One hour? Two? Try five seconds! That's right, five seconds in the Drengin Flash-Frying Furnace is all you need! No more of that 'Here's something I prepared earlier'! Watch this!*

The chef pushed a Drengin into the oven with a cattle prod, and pushed a button. Exactly five seconds later, the Drengin was done. Well done, in fact. There was some singed hair, but nothing major.

Hurls sniffed in disdain. "Sure, it's cooked, but it's simply not cuisine."

(click)

*Are you tired of buying dozens of different cosmetics products to care for every single bit of your body? Wouldn't you like one personal grooming system that takes care of all your needs, and is more powerful than anything you've got? Well, wait no longer, it's finally here!

Introducing the GECK - the Garden of Eden Cosmetics Kit! The GECK, developed by SuperFine Systems, has over 60 unique beauty accessories, which not only ensure that your makeup is always stylish and in tune with the latest fashions, but allow you to perform plastic surgery on yourself with nothing more than a mirror and some bandages to clean up the blood! Nose job, pinned ears, belly tuck, all the way to liposuction and sex-change operations! (Disclaimer: genitalia not included.) Look at the results on these satisfied customers:*

The screen showed a fat guy morph into Brad Pitt, a skinny guy with glasses morph into Brad Pitt, and a woman in a bikini morph into Brad Pitt.

*A complete instruction manual, as well as this briefcase, are included free of charge!

Order now, and we'll throw in a Mini-GECK - a collection of over 20 of our most popular items, allowing simple cosmetic maintenance wherever you are! And the Mini-GECK is so compact it fits in a lady's handbag, or a car's glovebox!*

Hurls and Quack looked at each other, and realized what this meant.


---


Quack picked up the prodding stick and prodded Jaws, who immediately rolled over and bit off most of the stick. "Buy some more prodding sticks", Quack thought to himself. Eventually, Jaws woke up, and joined the rest of the pirates in the rec room, where they watched the GECK ad (it was being re-run all night long).

"That's it. That's how he gets her." said Cypher quietly.
"What'll he look like after he's used that thing?"

Hurls typed a few commands into a computer, and a photo of Ray appeared. The picture quickly morphed into Brad Pitt.

"Damn, he's not bad looking!" exclaimed the koala. The other animals eyed him strangely. "For a guy, that is!" Killa added quickly. As the others turned away, Killa stole another glance at the photo out of the corner of his eye, and blushed.

"We have to stop him getting his hands on a GECK. If he gets one, he'll be irresistable. We should take out the factory. It's the only way to be sure." said Hurley.
"The future is not set. There is no fate but what we make for ourselves." muttered Quack, as he stared blankly into the distance.
Wombie shook him back to reality. "Are your psychic powers picking something up?"
"Nar, I saw that written on a bathroom wall once. Just thought it was a good quote for the situation. Would you like to hear some more toilet graffiti?"
Wombat shook his head in dismay and started packing for the raid.



Crimes Against Cosmetics

The security guard looked up, just in time to see a massive hairy arse smashing through the ceiling. The hole left by CypherPax was big enough for the rest of the pirates to jump down all at once, with plenty of room to spare. The guard immediately recognized the pirates, and broke out in a cold sweat.

"W-w-what do y-you want?" he stammered.

"We're looting and pillaging. What does it look like?"

The guard looked at the pirates incredulously, then began to laugh, his confidence restored.

"Here? You're looting a cosmetics lab? Damn, I'd heard you were whipped by the Pirate Wives Club, but that's just ridiculous. The missus run out of rouge, did she?"

Quack hopped up on the desk, pumped a round into his shotgun, and rammed the barrel in the guard's face.

"It's no joke, mate."


---


Jaws' jaws were well suited to crushing computers, and the two drop-qualified animals were flattening everything else in the office with their battle-hardened arses. Wombat and Hurley started exploring the rest of the building, looking for any other signs of the GECKs. They stumbled into a wide-open room.

"Look!"

There, suspended in a harness above a pool of molten steel, was a cat (with a heavy layer of blush and eyeliner), sweating profusely. The pirates leapt into action, and activated the winch, pulling the cat up to safety and quickly unhooking it from the winch.

"50 degrees and the makeup still doesn't run..." whispered the cat before it fainted.

"Goddamn animal testing. Let's tear this place apart!" screamed the Wild One, enraged by what he had seen.

Hearing all the commotion, the other animals filed into the room, pushing several carts loaded with briefcases.

"We've found the GECKs!"
"Toss 'em in the pit, boys!"

With a few seconds of effort, the carts were tipped over the edge, and spilled their contents into the molten steel. The pirates cheered.

"It's over." said Wombat, and drew a deep breath.

Killa pulled out a manifest and a calculator.

"No. There's still one more. And it must also be destroyed." said Killa as he looked at Quack accusingly.

"What? You think that just because I've had a bad run with chicks lately, I'd stoop to something like this? I don't need one of them! I'm dead sexy! I've got enough charming drinking stories to charm the pants off a super-model!"

Killa stared at Quack impassively. Quack stared back for a few seconds, then swore, pulled out a briefcase, and pegged it at the koala.

"Bloody smarty-pants. The Sergeant Stubby stories, the detective's report... why can't you just let me be happy? You always have to ruin it, don't you?" sobbed the duck.

Jaws burped, and coughed up another briefcase, which landed on Killa's feet. Confused, the koala looked back down at his manifest.

"I thought there was only one missing."
"You never were that good at counting, Killa." replied Jaws.

Jaws picked both briefcases up, and solemnly hooked them to the winch. Quack activated the winch controls. As the briefcases slowly inched their way down to the molten metal, Jaws and Quack stood at attention and saluted, silently saying goodbye to the glamorous swinger's lifestyle the GECK had promised.

"Erox whoomki schwee..." someone muttered.

"Shut up, you clown. Show a bit of friggin respect." muttered Quack.

"... kooki wherda strunzing..." continued the voice.

The shark whirled around, ready to bite someone's head off.

"... farstdah boomboom katza." said Ray as he stepped out of the shadows. As he uttered the last word of his spell, the pirates were thrown backwards onto the floor, and paralyzed for a few precious moments. Ray calmly reached over, and stopped the winch. With a massive effort, Wombat managed to draw his sidearm.

"Go ahead, Mister Wombat. Give it your best shot!" boomed Ray. "Heh, heh, best shot... that was a great line. Did you guys pick up the joke? Best shot cause he's trying to shoot me? Huh? Huh? How good am I?"

Ray looked around and beckoned for applause. Killa looked at his watch and yawned. Ray suddenly remembered where he was.

"Oh yeah. Shoot me, Mister Wombat. You can't hurt me with that little thing."

"I know." Wombat said. As the paralysis effect wore off, he rolled over on his little pot-belly, aimed at the winch hook, and fired. The hook snapped off, sending both briefcases tumbling down.

"Noooo!" screamed Ray.

Ray almost jumped off the ledge to grab a GECK, but remembered what had happened last time he had tried jumping over molten metal. He could only watch as the GECKs dissolved into nothingness. Ray stood there, staring into the red-hot pool, and paid no attention to the animals as they scurried off into the darkness like rats, their mission complete.



Epilogue

Ray lay awake in his bed, alone in his wizard tower, and stared at the ceiling.

Even though he was a construct of the Geektrix, he still had feelings. The loss of the GECK weighed heavily on his soul. How would he fulfill the prophecy now? Could he get Cotal some other way? Were there any paths to world domination that didn't involve ancient prophecies and flowergirls?

He had no answers to these questions. Frustrated, he did what he always did when he couldn't sleep.

(click)

*Are you tired of spending ages hacking away at your roasts with poor quality knives? The Demtel VibroBlade cuts through meat and bone as easily as butter! Look how durable it is - *

Ray already had a knife.

(click)

*Call me now...* purred a woman in a very revealing polished leather outfit. *NOW!* she demanded, as she cracked her whip.

Part of Ray was curious, but his inner child was screaming like a little girl.

(click)

Two Sectoids appeared on the screen.

*That's right, folks, with this amazing introductory price, you can learn the wonders of Carbon Copy for yourself! Do you want to clone yourself in a twisted quest for immortality? How about bringing back a loved one, so you don't have to resort to necrophilia? Have you ever asked yourself "If Frank Sinatra and Britney Spears had a daughter, would she have any talent?"? All these problems, and many more, can be solved by the miracle of modern cloning. All we need is the relevant DNA samples for the procedure you want, and we can have a test-tube baby in your letterbox within 6 to 8 weeks! That name again is Carbon Copy! Call now!*

The wizard smiled.


[Message Edited]

Heh, love the photo, Cypher. Bet she loves it too. A lump on the right leg where her uzi's hidden... those fluffy red grenades in easy reach... she's lethal.

At least we know what animal she wants to be now.

Ravings? Lunatic? Perhaps. But hardly unfocused.

For a more complete review, you'll need to wait until after I finish laughing from that "battle-hardened arses" line!

Quack - you are a legend - I loved every minute of it!

Quak that is just amazing!!

Hey guys, quick question. I beat a game last night by accidentally flipping the last planet of the last AI prematurely (no jokes please). I went ahead and submitted it and realized I have no updated the game on my desktop (laptop is up-to-date), so I updated the desktop and went back to a previous save point and started playing the same game again. This one lasted a bit longer but the stupid planet flipped again and I won. I tried to submit this one and it says it was successful, however, it does not show up with my profile. Can I resubmit the game a second time or can you only submit once. I thought you could submit the same one twice. Does anyone have any suggestions?
Thanks


~SDC~

LOL LOL LOL LOL LOL LOL LOL LOL LOL LOL LOL

Quackie: That was great! Damn your study! You have such talent it should be let loose to fly.

And I can feel your pain too...I am filled with remorse. I also sensed a jibe or two and I'm a vindictive koala. We'll see how these competing emotions pan out...

Quack --- :LOL

Monkson -I would try to submit again... I've ocassionally gotten the 'sucessful' message when it hasn't be sucessful. I guess your other recourse would be tech support.

Monkson, there was talk about preventing people from "resubmitting" games in version 1.11 that were originally submitted in 1.10 or earlier. I don't know if they actually did that, but could be a possibility.
~SDC~
[Message Edited]

That could be the reason and would be a welcome fix.

I've no problems with allowing resubmissions but I believe it's good to restrict resubmissions to the same version.

~SDC~

Thanks for the info guys; I am working on my first Maso that has not kicked my butt and it looks like I may be in it for a while. I made a mistake and became an ally with one of the two remaining civs but am now at a point where I can take on one but not two since they are allied with each other. If you see a win in the next couple of days, then you will know that I pulled it off; if not, then I will be dead.

~SDC~

Only 49.95 bcs? I swear, my marketing department told me they would get at least 150.00 bcs for it!! Looks like time to introduce the marketing department to my blade...

Ahhhh Pontius Popeille. King of the infomertial.

Ahhhh Pontius Popeille. King of the infomertial.

And don't forget those Ronco Pirate Ginsu knives for xmas. Only 19.95. It slices, it dices, it chops. It even plucks the polyps out of your bum. Order now and we'll throw in the Pocket fisherman, the spray on hair, The Juice extractor, the decorator kit. A $500 value if we sold em in stores. Yours for just 19.95.

Monkson,

You can submit the same game twice; that's the limit. I'd go with Cypher's advice and try it again - you have nothing to lose...

Regarding an untimely alliance - Although I used to HATE alliances, I now think they're a win-win, as long as you don't have too many at the same time. When your ally demands that you go to war with an enemy, go ahead and do it. Then, immediately offer them a peace treaty. You can usually get something in return; on Maso, it would probably be a tech or two, maybe some influence points. Not too shabby.

Of course, if you have no military, they might demand a bribe from YOU to accept a treaty, which would be bad...

Our Travels in the Metaverse: The Heist

Chapter 1

“If ya can’t earn it, steal it”.

“How much?” queried Harel, idly.

“The Jedi have millions…they’re loaded. We pull it off…we could live like Kings”.

The gathered Forces looked at one another with speculation in their eyes. It was the witching hour and they were the last patrons in the Special Forces pub. Killa stubbed his cigarette, lit another, and pursed his lips. “Millions. Sounds an awful lot”.

Cypher cracked his knuckles and eyed Wild. “How many of us would ya need for the job? And what’s the risk?”

Wild’s lip curled. “In this world there is always danger for those who are afraid of it”.

Cypher threw his chair back and surged to his lower paws. He growled, “and you mean by that…”

Killa made a supplicating gesture. “Settle down fauna! Danger and delight grow on the one stalk: often the test of courage is not to die but to live”.

Harel looked impressed. Cypher sat down. “You’re right of course, Killa. You’re always right”.

“He is! Why is Killa always right, guys?” The gathered Forces shook their heads. No one could say why Killa was so often… indeed, pretty much always right.

Wild tapped the coffee table, sternly. “I reckon we need five members to pull the heist off, with Harel to handle the diversion. But…there is one tiny detail…” He scratched his black nose with a blunt claw: the claw generally used by wombats for foraging in the bush.

“That is?” asked Hurley quizzically.

“Um, I need Quack to be the dude, ‘cause he’s got the charisma, he’s young, he’s believable. And he needs a chick: someone to pretend to be his girl. In other words we need a woman…a femme fatale…”

Black smoke snorted. “You’re kidding! The Special Forces are as blokey as you can get! Where are we gonna find a lassie to join our heist…a heist that you said was 50:50 to succeed! Not one of our partners surely!”

Wild blushed. “Well, we don’t exactly need a… woman. It could be someone expendable… It could equally be…ah…one of us”. There was deathly silence. Followed by guffaws, the pushing back of chairs and a general sense of unease. Eyes darted around the group. “I was thinking, you know, someone believable…someone who could pull it off…I was thinking… Killa”.

Killa gasped. “No bloody way! Over my dead bloody body! Are you joking? You’re not! I’m bloody insulted! That’s it Wombie…I’m bloody out of here! ………….....Um… long blond hair?”

“If you like”.

“And perhaps a frock that made me look really curvy…”

“Killa, I don’t think they call them frocks anymore”.

“Whatever. But I did see a rather stunning set of earrings last week, and I really like Mrs Wombat’s red high heels, the pair she wore the other day, any chance of borrowing them?”

The gathered Forces stared at Killa speculatively.

Chapter 2

“Heel, toe, heel, toe, heel, toe”.

“Ouch. Damn”.

“Killa you’re ruining my shoes. They cost credits you know. You don’t have good balance do you?”

“Sorry Mrs Wombat. Maybe women have a different centre of gravity or something. Although, I love the extra few inches. It’s nice to see above people’s crotches without straining my neck”.

“It just takes years of practice and patience. Now what was your question about lippy? Why are you so excited about the new Evada range? I must say though, the colour you’ve chosen does highlight your green eyes”.

Killa peered at the mirror and flicked his eyelashes. “You’re right”. He moistened his lips and rubbed them together. “Mrs Wombat. I love this colour! And it’s silky smooth. I think it’s just snogtastic”.

“And…?”

“Well…I just feel that if I’m gonna pretend to be Quack’s girlfriend I should do him proud. I don’t want the Jedis to think Quack is married to some scrubber”.

Chapter 3

Wild snorted and playfully punched Quack. “Come on mate, you’re just being paranoid”.

They pushed into the pub and sidled up to the bar.

“Yoo hoo. Quackie, Wombie, over here!” They eyed Killa who was sitting on a lounge sipping a Mai Tai. “Get your beers and join me. We need to work out some details!”

Wild and Quack grabbed their beers and sauntered over to the lounge.

“You sit here Quackie,” said Killa, patting the lounge next to him. “And Wombie, you over there. And here’s Obi, Jaws and Harel. Guys, over here!” The Forces settled down.

“But before Wombie tells us, I have a hilarious joke!” Killa cracked a bizarre and obtuse joke and giggled on his own. Wild stared with a perplexed and slightly disdainful expression. A frown tugged the corner of his mouth down, his eyebrow rose and his brow furrowed across. He had been increasingly concerned at Killa's obvious emotional instability and lack of good sense. "Mate, are you OK?". It was then that Killa realised he was not just misunderstood. It was far more serious than that: he had become a koala that one avoided at parties. Yes, he was officially a goose.

“Well alright already, so I shouldn’t tell jokes. Let’s move on. Tell us the details of our mission”.

Wild gazed at the lads for a second, before taking a deep breath. “Coruscant is wealthy beyond all imagination and a fortune, an absolute fortune, is kept at the First Sith National Bank. The position of the bank in a Coruscant tower has made me think of a cunning plan. On a floor directly above the bank vault is…”

Five hours later Wild finished. “So then, Quack, Jaws, Harel, Obi and I grab the credits after all of those tense moments and climb back to the hotel floor where Killa will be waiting. We exit the hotel, Harel creates a diversion and we depart Coruscant, wealthy beyond all imagining! An unlimited supply of beer and pretzels forever!”

“Hurrah” said most of the Forces, with some excitement.

Chapter 4

Jaws gazed at Wild with a look that held equal amounts of pity and rebuke. Heaven knows, Jaws had dallied with married women, particularly during raucous victory celebrations, but at least in some small measure he still knew right from wrong. And he wasn’t afraid to counsel a friend who was straying, without a care, from the right path of upstandingness and skipping down the left path of moral depravity.

“Mate” said Jaws, in an ever so slight Aussie accent. An accent that he had so sorely tried to avoid attaining. He hated it when he holidayed in Mother England and got accused of being a colonial. Not that it was a thing, but galling nonetheless when one is a good Shropshire lad: a salt-of-the-earth sort of Englishman. “Mate, one bonk is OK. It’s a given for wombats to want to spread their seed. The Nature Channel tells us so. But three bonks with the same lass means infidelity. I can’t be any plainer than that”.

Wild hung his head in shame. “Jaws, I know it’s wrong. But I can’t help myself. I crave it. I crave her. I’m like an addict and I need my fix!”

“Have you tried SAA?”

“Huh?”

“Sexual Addicts Anonymous”.

“Oh, yea. I did, but they get the cutest women at their meetings. There was one echidna…”

“Wild!”

“Sorry. But gee it’s hard. I mean it’s not every day you meet a promiscuous guttersnipe who…”

“Wild! That’s no way to talk about a woman who has got so much love to give that she can’t keep her hands off you! You could equally be called a promiscuous guttersnipe and you are married!”

“You’re right. You’re sounding like Killa now”.

“I know I’m right. Your moral well-being is in your paws alone Wild. No one else can help you with this…on the one hand a wife and eighteen little nippers to clothe and feed and bring up for the next 20 years. On the other, a temptress who only has rampant unrestrained sex to offer with no questions asked… Every wombat’s fondest dream…”

Jaws mopped his sweating neck and forehead with a handkerchief and gulped his glass of water, shakily. “The path you must take is clear. And Wild, I have faith in your common sense”.

Wild put his head in his hands and sobbed dramatically. “Thanks Jaws. You tell it straight mate”. He looked up. “I wish I had faith in my common sense. As long as I never see the temptress again I’ll be fine. But it shall be a long, hard road”. He held out his paws. They were shaking.

After a bit, they playfully punched each other several times and then settled back to watch The Bold and the Restless. Wild said, “Killa put me on to this show. It’s strangely interesting. Anyway, let me fill you in. Mary-Lou has just left Chuck for Kip, while Ridge, her father thinks she is…”

Chapter 5

Killa put his paws to his mouth. “Can you believe it! I hate that Peggy-Sue! What she is putting poor Ridge through, especially after his accident and subsequent surgery…”

Mrs Wombat nodded in full agreement. “Why do people do such things!”

Killa grinned. “Well if they didn’t, they wouldn’t be as interesting I suppose”.

“You’re right of course. Life is drama”.

“And we all have a touch of the drama queen in us, eh?”

Mrs Wombat smirked. “Have another chocolate Killa”.

“Yum. Where is Wild? I wanted to ask him about Quack’s favourite colours. Whether he would like me in my Captain Kirk golden velour top”.

“He’s having a coffee with Jaws. Now that Jaws: there is a good lad…”

“What metaverse do you live in? Some of the stories…” Killa shook his head. “And with this World Cup... I fear for his sanity Mrs Wombat. His fondest dream is to hold aloft the Trophy Cup surrounded by buxom adulators. I fear the reality will be far different… We’re forming a support group for him: we’ll be there to pick up the pieces when the inevitable happens. Take it from me…the All Blacks will win and I’m never wrong”.

“Poor Jaws”.

Chapter 6

Some weeks later, Obi shook Jedi Master Yoda’s hand, warmly.

“I see human you’re still,” quipped Jedi Master Yoda slyly. “Thought transmogrified you they would have now by”.

Obi frowned. His facial tick abruptly started. “They did…but it didn’t take. My counselor says I shouldn’t talk about it yet”.

“Quite. So think what do you? Development, development, development, eh!” said Yoda proudly. Yoda and Obi reclined in a café. The afternoon sun strained through the smoggy haze of Coruscant and lit the street with a somber orange glow. All manner of creatures great and small stalked and rolled and slithered and flew about. Each had nothing to do, but managed to seem purposeful. Unemployment was very high on Coruscant as can be imagined and other than real estate developers, not many people had gainful employment, let alone earned the big bucks.

Obi shrugged and made an airy gesture. “Everything’s new and everything’s old. Now that I’m back I can’t help but think…”

“You miss not being a proper Jedi? It was always your fondest dream Obi” said Yoda quietly.

“Perhaps. Yes. And no. I’ve got some thinking to do. I just don’t know who I am anymore… Your news?”

“Same old same old. Do you mind if I talk proper English? I do tire so of trying to confuse people with my syntax”.

“By all means Earnest Leader”.

Yoda tittered demurely. “And soon to be Supreme Being of the Most Exalted Order. I am quietly excited by my forthcoming promotion. Now, let me think…the Jedi Academy Party made a brief splash when they formed and split but soon returned, and the elections will be nail biting with a slight controversy about nominations although three nominees have become two and given that there are five vacant places it doesn’t matter anyway. Of interest is Darth Kryo’s bid for power on the back of the Sith Domination Party and it is suspected he has funding from the Evil Empire which given his blanket media coverage seems highly likely. And so that makes it hard to understand KEmperor’s support of the Ascendant brothers Alex and Essex in their Ascendant Brothers Party and in particular their push to get Alex Ascendant into the Council, whilst Essex dallies with the Diablo Two Party. But the power probably remains with the Grand Fleet of the Republic Party: power in the barrel of a gun eh! Grand Admiral Sherbert is currently building a massive fleet and X-Wing Sierra would dearly love to be a part of it, especially as Darth Kryo was given a new ship. Alas for Jedi Captain Mayito 7777 formerly of the Jedi Academy Party, his main supporter Jedi Prophet Kyo Durron left for the Sith Domination Party before then forming The Ancients Party. Mayito then lost his powerbase and had to flee Coruscant and created some party or other before regaining his powerbase and returning to Coruscant. Arcilte was considered to have joined the Lost Jedis Party together with Qui-Gon Jinn but re-surfaced to join the Independent League. Count Dooku became Mokson and disappeared soon after Cotal became Amidala of the Independent League and then she disappeared and Darth Kryo has a really cool lightsaber, other than that, it’s been quiet”.

Obi stared at Yoda with dismay. “Interesting. So the GFRP is ascendant although the SDP is making a powerplay for the Council together with the JAP and the ABP, and the SDP may well have secret links with the ABP and the DTP is obviously a front for the ABP. Yet if Darth got a ship then the SDP must be in cahoots with the GFRP. So they are all worried that the LJP may wake from its slumber and the IL is sitting on the fence and who knows what JCM7x4 is going to do next. If the TAP returns to the SDP that will surely unsettle, ah….no wait. I’ve lost my train of thought...

They reminisced long into the night.

Chapter 7

Harel was a cold-blooded assassin, and a good lad too. He helped little kittens and mercilessly slaughtered sentient alien scum. He had several mottos. God could not be everywhere and therefore he made mothers. If a man is destined to drown, he will drown even in a spoonful of water. Even a clock that does not work is right twice a day.

But what good are mottos without a comrade to say them to? A comrade who had the patience to listen to the same three mottos repeated ad nauseum. Harel in fact once had such a comrade. But his dearest friend had found religion and now served in the service of a Goddess on Skowbo.

Harel never forgave this friend. But he never gave up hope that one day he would travel to Skowbo and find his friend, and once again he could share his favouritist mottos. This was his fondest, most heartfelt wish. It kept him going through his ‘dark moments’.

Until then, Harel made do with a bizarre bunch of mates that his mother called ‘the animals’. To tell the truth, no one much cared about the sentient alien scum.

And Harel looked forward to slaughtering a few Jedi on the heist as well.

Chapter 8

Quack, with Killetta on his arm, strolled into the Honeymoon Hotel in Tower East 40,123 proudly. They looked like movie stars.

They made a top drawer couple: Killetta’s golden velour top and long bleached-blond hair contrasting in magical ways with Quack’s fine plumage. Quack had even increased his grooming since the pair had traveled together to Coruscant.

Quack was a young and handsome duck and he knew it: he was a chick magnet from way back. For Quack was lucky enough to be a stiff-tailed Argentine lake duck on his father’s side, and a Rouen duck on his mother’s. His childhood had been a happy time, of quiet foraging, preening and swimming. His teenage years had been a trial of course, but he had gotten through. Until that fateful night he met Evie.

Pure and simple, Evie was a seductress. She liked them fresh and naive. At that time Quack didn’t know that his chick pulling power was strong and he had been bowled over by Evie’s poised and assertive manner. They met sitting on the shagpile carpet in someone’s lounge room, sharing a Phillip Morris and getting high. Quack’s friends were gyrating in the middle of the room. The radio blared at highest volume. The duck took another swig of his scrumpy and blushed as he felt Evie study his drumsticks. He felt giddy.

“Up for a bit?” she asked with a smirk.
“Probably until nine o’clock” mumbled Quack uncertainly.
“Mmm. And this music, I can barely hear you! What is this song on the radio?”
“Bay City Rollers! Aren’t they fantastic! I wish I was John Devine!”
“Uh, yea right!”
“No really. One day I’m gonna be famous and play guitar like Devine and be wealthy and really enjoy my life and do whatever I want when I want”.
“Pfft. You look intelligent to me. Why don’t you do something with your life? Use your brain!”
“No way! I have dreams…I’m not gonna end up like my parents…no way!”
“Well I don’t want you for your brain anyway”.
“Um”.
“You know what I want”.
“Hic Oh. Hic”.
“What’s wrong?”
“Hic Sorry but, Hic when I’m Hic nervous I get the Hic hiccups”.

Evie let her hair down and flicked her eyelashes, coyly. “Aw how cute. Are you really nervous? Of little old me?”

“Hic Hic Hic Hic Hic Hic Hic Hic Hic Hic No”

Later that evening, the waves washed over them, and Quack became a goose. It was at that age that his tail-feathers stiffened, and he never looked back. Thereafter he held a candle for Evie: he worshiped at her altar until one day she ran away. She disappeared from his duck life forever. Never again did he open his heart to a woman as much as he had opened it for Evie. Yet he ever held a candle for his Evie and still dreamed of her silky thighs and… so on. His fondest dream was to find his Evie and to reignite their love now that he was that little bit more experienced. Older and wiser as he thought.

So anyway, he and Killetta strolled into the Honeymoon Hotel and went to the front desk to organize their room.

“You go on ahead” said Quack winking, “I’ve got the room we wanted and I’ll pay for the room now, so that we can leave quickly when we are done”.

Killetta nodded and went to the lift to go the few floors down to their room. Their room, which, on level 2,013 was directly above the First Sith National Bank vault.

Chapter 9

Killetta tripped near the elevator and lost a red high heel. With some chagrin, barely balancing, he went to pick it up.

A young man dashed up to assist, gallantly. “Just a moment, Miss - may I?” He picked up the shoe. Killetta extended his foot regally: “Help yourself”.

The man slipped the shoe on. “I’m the Captain. Captain Mayito”.

“And I’m Cinderella the second”. Killetta tried to pull away but the Captain held onto Killetta’s ankle.

“If there is one thing I admire, it's a girl with a shapely ankle”.

“Me too. Bye now”.

“Let me carry your bags”.

“Oh, ah. OK, thanks”. Killetta loaded the Captain up with his and Quack’s bags. “Aren’t you a sweetheart!” Killetta strode to the elevator, past the wicker furniture and potted palms.

“You know, I’m fascinated with blond girls and I love your blouse”.

“Oh really! I’m afraid my husband doesn’t like it that much”.

“Yes, your husband… Well, nothing like a challenge”.

“So why are you in the Honeymoon Hotel? Are you just married?”

“No, not a chance. My mama owns this hotel. She thinks I should be responsible and learn to be the hotel manager. She thinks I’m too busy here to get into mischief. But with all the fish in the ocean who can resist going fishing!”.

“Well, pull in your reel, Mr. Mayito. You're barking up the wrong fish”.

They entered the elevator. The captain looked coyly at Killetta. “If I promise not to be a naughty boy - how about dinner tonight?”

“Sorry, I’m busy with my gorgeous newly wed husband”.

“Fascinating. You must be quite a girl”.

“Wanna bet?”

“My last girlfriend was an acrobatic dancer - you know, sort of a contortionist - she could smoke a cigarette while holding it between her toes - Zowie! - but Mama broke it up”.

“Why?”

“She doesn't approve of girls who smoke”.

Killetta reached for his cigarettes. “Them’s the breaks. Well, here’s my floor. Goodbye Mr Mayito”.

Before the doors fully opened, Killetta twisted around and with outraged womanhood slapped Mayito. “What kind of girl do you think I am, Mr Mayito?”

Killetta flounced from the elevator. Mayito rubbed his cheek, looking after Killetta enraptured. There are always some who like it hot. “Zowie!”

Chapter 10

“Why, that dirty young man!” Killa threw himself on the king size bed disconsolately.

Quack looked concerned. “What happened pet?”

“I got pinched in the elevator”.

“Well, now you know how the other half lives”.

“And I'm not even pretty”.

“They don't care - just as long as you wear skirts. It's like waving a red flat in front of a bull”.

“I'm tired of being a flag. I want to be a bull again. Lets get out of here Quack, as soon as we can”.

“Listen. The team will be here any minute and within a few hours we’re gone. And millionaires to boot!”

Killa sighed. “You’re right. I’m just too selfish sometimes. All I think about is myself. But it’s just so humiliating being objectified and pawed all the time. I just want to be anonymous again. Oh, and here they are”.

Quack went to the window and opened it quickly. Wild, Jaws, Obi and Harel climbed into the room from the hovering aircar. Harel gave a wolf whistle when he saw Killetta. Killa blushed coyly. “Don’t we look like Brad Pitt and Catherine Zeta-Jones”.

Harel laughed. “I was thinking more like Brad Pitt and Maggie Smith, but whatever”.

Within minutes the Forces had begun to melt the floor of the room with zorchers in order to access the First Sith National Bank vault that fortuitously lay directly below the hotel room.

Chapter 11

Some hours later, Killa paced the room. The chaps had been ever so long in the bank below. He peered at the ragged hole in the hotel room floor. A rope ladder extended into the hole and disappeared. No sound came from the hole. Killa was nervous and more than that, he was afraid.

The Jedi were merciless to robbers and criminals. He knew that if the group were caught, they would be sent to the Jedi Criminal Courts where Fellowship judges presided. Fellowship judges were renowned throughout the metaverse for their bizarre and humiliating punishments. Prisons where group hugs were mandatory; organic vegan meals; incense burning; jojoba oil in everything. Killa shuddered. Still, he wouldn’t mind the poetry readings.

Suddenly, a knock on the door. Killa fell to his knees in shock. Yet he had the presence of mind to swing a blanket over the hole, threw on his wig and tottered to the door.

“Yes…?” he said, with a dry throat, as he fractionally opened the door. The door was thrown back and into the room stormed…a woman. Two women.

“You!”
“Yes me!”
“How?”
“I saw you in the hotel lobby. A quick… favour to the young hotel manager and he told me which room you were in”. She looked around possessively. “And this by-the-way is my… girlfriend”.

Killa stared at the sultry woman who entered behind the temptress. The unfamiliar woman smirked and fluttered her fingers suggestively.

The temptress’s eyes came to rest on the blanket on the floor. She whisked it away and stared at the hole. “Oh you haven’t! Is my wombat down there? What were you thinking! The First National Sith Bank of all banks!” She wrung her hands.

Killa stared in shock. “What do you mean? Yes, Wombie is down there. We should be out of here ever so soon. You can have a cut of the proceeds if you don’t squeal!”

The temptress chuckled humourlessly. “Flee now, koala. All is lost!”

“Why, why, why? What’s wrong?” Killa wrung his paws.

“You fools! Didn’t you research the bank’s defences? I bet Wild planned this heist. He always goes off half-cocked. The bank has a special defence; one that has never been penetrated”.

“What defence?”

“The Imagitron! Why, it’s a machine that creates a field of psychic waves. The Imagitron creates fantasy images in the brain of every being within range. The walls between reality and fantasy break down, instantly. Whoever is down there, including Wild, will be living their most heartfelt desire. Until the Sith guards come. And then the trial and imprisonment in a Fellowship prison”. They shuddered as one. The temptress edged towards the door, staring at the hole in horror.

“Is there no way the Imagitron can be overcome?” gasped Killa with hysteria rising in his throat.

“The Evilist physicists say it’s theoretically possible. If the person is, in the end, sensible enough to see that the fantasy is unattainable, that the heart felt desire is but candy floss on the tongue, with no sustenance and no lasting value, then and only then can the spell be broken and the Imagitron will have no hold on the person. In other words they need to be sensible, mature, intelligent saints! But no one has succeeded in breaking the spell of the Imagitron. Ever”.

The temptress reached the door and grabbed the hand of her companion. “Come Evie, let’s fly and leave these losers to their ghastly fate”. The girls fled the hotel room and disappeared down the corridor. Killa closed the door and turned with despair welling in his eyes, to look at the hole. He knew with a cold certainty, that he would never see the lads again.

And Killa was never wrong.



Postscipt:

Killa entered the Special Forces pub, alone. He limped to the bar and brushed a solitary tear from his eye. Mrs Pax finished polishing the glass and cocked an eye at the koala. “What’s up?”

Killa sighed. “You’re behind the bar now?”
“Yep. We need more money for the renovations…costs blew out. What are you having?
“A beer”.
“You’re over the drag?”
“Completely. Being or acting like a woman calls for emotional equilibrium and solid common sense and that is in short supply in this little koala”.

And where are the boys?”

Killa sobbed and blew his nose, forlornly. “Oh Mrs Pax. Disaster! Pure and simple disaster! I’m bereft!”

Mrs Pax frowned and shoved a block of chocolate at the koala. “You poor little chap. What’s happened sugar?”

Killa was inconsolable, and wanted the whole world to know. “My world ended this month Mrs Pax. The boys? Well, only they can know why they did what they did…”

“Meaning Killa?”

“Mrs Pax, you will never need to work again! The Special Forces are rich beyond our wildest dreams! The heist was a complete success, despite the powers of the Imagitron”.

Mrs Pax untied her apron and threw it in the air. “Yippee! Well, why the long face?”

“Because I was wrong! And I’m never wrong. Never! Never! Never!”


Notes:
1. It is unconfirmed whether Quack is part stiff-tailed Argentine lake duck.
2. Killa would probably not make an attractive drag.
3. The Paxes in fact brought their renovations within budget.
4. Harel uses four quotes but the last one is untranslatable.
5. Fellowship judges rarely send people to prison. They prefer things like community service and written apologies.

LOL LOL LOL

Brilliant writing guys....

Quack and Killa, I never fail to be impressed by your imagination and prose.... very well done.

Well done Koala! Now I have to sit down and write something of my own... darn the luck, darn...

Well, I came home and tried to resubmit the game, but no dice. It just wasnt meant to be...

~SDC~

Killa: I get the joke! I get the joke! Another brilliant piece: you people are Very Special!!



And commiserations to Monkson - a lost maso...these things hurt, mate.... (:(

Great writing again!!

Ah, Killa ... a masterpiece, as always!

LOL LOL LOL





I wouldn't kill your marketing people just yet. That 4.95 per minute really adds up.