Forums » Group W Forums » The Story Board

 


Post new topic Reply to topic
Author Message
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Mon Mar 03, 2003 9:49 pm
  

User avatar
Arlo Fanatic

Joined: Sep 12, 2000
Posts: 6520
Location: New Jersey
...but evidently not THAT predictable!


          Top  
Reply with quote  
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Thu Mar 06, 2003 6:44 am
  

User avatar
Arlo Fanatic

Joined: Aug 25, 1999
Posts: 1089
Location: Ocala, FL, USA
"Captain, we need to leave this planet right now, before these creatures overrun us," said Mr. Tuck. With that, the Captain ordered warp speed 9, and the ship made for a new destination.


          Top  
Reply with quote  
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Thu Mar 06, 2003 11:56 am
  

User avatar
Arlo Fanatic

Joined: Sep 12, 2000
Posts: 6520
Location: New Jersey
Mr. Dubya, the new weapons officer, then suggested to the captain that they set their heading for the planet Officemaximus in order to obtain document shreaders to be used as weapons against the sheets in the event of an attack.

<center><FONT COLOR="#000080">--- Edited 1 times, lastly by Larry on Mar 06, 2003 ---</FONT></center>


          Top  
Reply with quote  
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Mon Mar 31, 2003 12:00 am
  

Well, wouldn't you know it that the particular planet spoken of was nowhere near as close as it could have been given the circumstances and proximity of what could only be described as the nearest faraway place. YES, the nearest faraway place....

"When we get to Officemaximus I would recommend we replenish our supply of Xeroxium crystals," intoned Tuck mysteriously.

"Splendid idea Tuck," burped the Kep-tan in a strange but usual way. "By the way out of here what do we use those crystals for then anyway, huh?"

"Well capstan the crystals are used for nearly all the systems relating to the replicaters we have here on pins and needles. It is curious that you are not remembering these things," breathed Tuck as only he and 2500 other peoplle could do.

"White lights, Hindelick Removers, flatlanders, wafers, planets, Xeroxium; I just don't know. It's all so confusing all of the sudden and I don't know why it should be, but there you have it in handsome Johnny McBride walks into the roomate and down tow floors to the right and across the street..." trailed off the clapman.

"Maybe vee should summon da doak-tar for da kep-tan, Mr. Tuck," suggested Checkup. At that precise moment...


          Top  
Reply with quote  
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Mon Mar 31, 2003 12:22 pm
  

User avatar
Arlo Fanatic

Joined: Sep 12, 2000
Posts: 6520
Location: New Jersey
<BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="Verdana, Arial">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Ron:


At that precise moment...<HR></BLOCKQUOTE>


....it was exactly "now", but it didn't last long and it quickly became "then", confusing the crew even more.


          Top  
Reply with quote  
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Sat Jun 28, 2003 1:09 pm
  

ArloNetizen

Joined: Apr 10, 2003
Posts: 52
Location: Hoagland, IN, USA
Blunderer took off at maximum velocity.

"Warp 25, Captain, and I'm givin' her all she's got," said Mr. Slopp, as Mr. Tuck gave him the high sign.

"Good job, Sloppy," answered the somewhat disoriented captain, still looking for his bongos.

45 minutes passed, and most of the yams were already cooked, when a small blip appeared on Mr. Checkup's microwave.

"Captain, either the Meatloaf is done, or there's a small ship following us."

"A small ship?" The Captain had to take just a moment to remember what a ship was, but he thought he had it, but he was thinking of a Spaniel, and was disappointed when O'Hara brought it up on the viewscreen.

"Just when did you become Irish anyway?" he asked O'Hara, still the most beautiful and dangerous communications officer in the quadrant.

"Never mind that, Captain," said an uncharacteristically emotional Mr. Tuck, "look at the strange markings on that ship!"

"What's that, a Peace sign?" said the alarmed Captain. He'd heard of this strange concept of "Peace" before, and a chill ran up his spine. Wasn't it "Peace" that had laid to waste the entire Battle Fleet of Gorgonzola VII?

"There are definately life signs," said Albert Schweitzer, who no one had even realized was aboard.

"Let's beam over and check out the scene," said Mr. Hip, easily the coolest officer Mr. Tuck had ever known.

"Ixnay! Ixnay onyay uhthey eamingbay," shouted Mr. Piglatin, who Mr. Tuck obligingly rendered unconscious.

"Thank you, Mr. Tuck," said O'Hara, a tear streaming down her face, "that guy really annoys me."

Mr. Tuck, Mr. Checkup, and Albert Schweitzer formed an away team with several anonymous officers in red shirts, who seemed to know that their days were numbered.

After fading from the transporter deck, they arrived in what appeared to be a smoky room decorated with blacklight posters and fishnet. A strange being with 11 arms was playing 5 1/2 guitars, and shouting "Here comes the sun" in a loud, gargling voice.

"That's not how I remember this song," said Albert Schweitzer, who was unsure how to spell his own name.

"It's not a song," shouted the gargling creature, "look!"

And sure enough, Nexxon 17-A, which was the sun for this system, was chasing them at light speed, which was quite impossible. Even Julie Andrews knew that.

"Here Spock," shouted a gargly little girl, and to everybody's surprise, a small green puppy with pointy ears jumped out from behind a fern.

"Mr. Tuck, what are we going to do?" asked a red shirt guy, who died immediately, just to keep the body count up.

"Everybody back on board the Blunderer, said the almost excited Mr. Tuck, "385 to beam up," he said into his Nokia Cellphone, thinking about the big bucks Nokia was going to pay him for the plug.

Han Solo emerged from the bathroom.

"Can you guys give me just a second? I'm teasing."

"Sorry, you'll have to go with your hair just how it is," said Albert Schwitezer, making a mental note to disengage all spell-checkers from the ship's database.

When all 750 of them materialized on the tennis courts of Blunderer's ample recreation deck, it was a sight for red eyes. At first, there was a lot of bickering, but as the seconds stretched into minutes, a sense of love and apathy spread over the group like maple syrup.

"Captain, what are we going to do about that sun?" asked Johnny Come Lately, as the Captain struggled to remember what a sun was.


          Top  
Reply with quote  
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Sat Jun 28, 2003 2:11 pm
  

User avatar
Arlo Fanatic

Joined: Sep 15, 1999
Posts: 7431
"yippie!" shouted scotchy (that would be scotchy to you) who had been wondering about the current situation that had been simmering out of control on a very low level lately and was always up for a good bedtime story right smack dab in the middle of...and if he thought his attention for things had been spread thin before, he was squealing with delight over this new hatching of confusion of every kind which presented before him....a very real and shiny star wars lunch box with a thermos full of his (that would be scotchy's) favorite beverage.
all of the excitement had made scotchy very sleepy, so he went for his nap and left the very important work of figuring out what on earth the sun has to do with a solar system anyway to the captain while mumbling to himself all the while, "it's all very lovely, please come back again..." and fell fast asleep much to the captain's dismay...


          Top  
Reply with quote  
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Sat Jun 28, 2003 4:20 pm
  

ArloNetizen

Joined: Apr 10, 2003
Posts: 52
Location: Hoagland, IN, USA
The Captain was having problems of his own. "Was it Scotchy, or Sloppy?" his tired mind echoed, "or was it Chief O'Brain?" He seemed to have some trouble remembering who the Ship's Chief Engineer was, and worse, he wasn't even sure WHAT a Chief Engineer was.

"Captain, would you like a drink?" asked Isaac, from the ship's Bar and Lounge.

"What's a drink?" asked the Captain, scrunching up his forehead and hoping it wasn't one of those fuzzy things from Episode XXI.

Over the noise of the blender, the Captain could hear a couple hundred or so of the new creatures on board singing anti-war songs.

"Will a drink make me feel like them?" asked the Captain, who'd always been an officer, a gentleman, and a tax collector, until that blow to the head.

"No, but this might," said Mr. Stoned, who definately was. He held up a small, white object.

"What am I supposed to do with that?" asked the Captain, wondering who in the hell Mr. Stoned was, and what his position was on the ship.

"Smoke it," said Mr. Stoned, but the Captain wasn't about to do any such thing, and noticing Mr. Stoned was wearing a red shirt replied, "I doubt you're in many more scenes anyway."

"What kind of creatures are those down there?" the Captain asked Isaac, after belting down six shots of Gin.

"The Folktopeds of Rising VII, if I'm not mistaken."

"What do you know about them?" the Captain asked, earnestly.

"What do any of us really know about anybody, anyway?" replied Issac, in a particularly philosophical mood today.

"You answered my question with a question?" the Captain asked, in the form of a question.

"Apparently so," replied Issac, hoping the Captain would stop asking him annoying questions, and perhaps grope some alien women or something.

The Folktopeds were truly an amazing race. They had mastered space and time travel, possibly as long ago as a million centuries, or maybe only five minutes. It was hard to say, since they traveled in time.

Their culture revolved around fingerpicking, which is why they had developed multiple arms, with as many as 100 fingers on each hand.

Sure, their gloves were more expensive, and hard to manufacture than ours, but there were also many advantages, such as the ability to simultaneously strum the entire Pete Seeger songbook, while playing the intricate melodies of Blorgon the Exalted.

The resulting cacophony was enough to keep intruders from stealing their Mumpgaw Trees, which were the sole providers of Oxygen and Gwumbat on their planet, located at the edge of a pulsating Black Hole that existed simultaneously in 3,452 Universes.

That very thought caused Isaac's head to start pounding, and he quickly made a Banana Dacquiri that contained more grain alcohol than Dr. McFly on a good day.

"Spock! Spock! Where are you!" cried the gargling little girl from two chapters ago, and the Captain grew annoyed.

"Little girl, or Folktoped or whatever you are, will you stop gargling and losing your puppy? This is a ship for grown up behavior, and grown up actions, and, to put it bluntly, we don't sleep with the night light on around here, got it?"

"Uh, you do sir..." began Mr. Checkup, but the Captain quickly elbowed him in the ribs, causing him to end the sentence with a little groan of a preposition.

Just then, little Spock jumped up into the air, and turned into a burst of light in a thousand colors, and the entire bar cheered. It was the most beautiful thing they'd ever seen, as little droplets of light cascaded down glassware, mirrors, and sent dancing colors all around.

"That is wery beatiful," observed Mr. Checkup.

"Does he do that often?" the concerned Captain asked the little girl.

"Only when he's happy," she replied, waiting patiently for the drops of light to reassemble into her completely spoiled and moderately insane dog.

"Rooowwwr!" said Spock, eating the Captain's shoes right off his feet.

"Will somebody please kill that dog?" asked the Captain, wondering when he'd become so grumpy.

"Captain!" exclaimed Mr. Checkup, "surely you wouldn't do such a horrible thing as kill a sweet and wery beautiful puppy!"

"I think it's that Mr. Tuck," answered the Captain sheepishly, "that guy's always kind of bugged me, and now I'm taking it out on a helpless creature."

He went to pet the animal, who promptly bit off his hand, leaving him with only a stump.

"Don't worry," said the little girl, whose name was Glebron, "in three days he'll turn into a butterfly."

This made the Captain feel a bit better, but it probably wouldn't have had he known that it would be a big, vicious butterfly, with over 800 rows of sharp teeth, and claws that dripped poison acid.

"Could one of your people teach me to play the guitar?" asked the Captain's son, who'd been killed by Klingons twice, and still somehow managed to be played by yet another actor.

"I will take you to Septon the Magnificent," she answered.

"Is he good?"

"He's all right."

"You'd think with a name like 'Septon the Magnificent,' he'd be pretty good," laughed the Captain's son.

"In my hometown, the Dog Catcher's name is 'Ruflex the Unbelievable,' the garbageman is 'Dillulon the Incredible,' and the bum who throws up twice a week in the alley behind our house is named 'Dave the Fantastic,'" the little girl explained.

"I see," said the Captain's son, a dull glaze coming to his eyes.

"Say, what's happened to Mr. Stoned?" asked the Captain.

"I believe he's dead, Jim," answered Isaac.

"Well, I saw that coming, didn't I?" laughed the Captain, who hadn't been fond of the character, anyway.

"Frankly, I don't know why those guys even put ON those red shirts, if you know what I mean, sir," answered Issac, smiling broadly.

"Some people never learn, my friend," said the Captain, seriously, "some people never learn.


          Top  
Reply with quote  
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Sat Jun 28, 2003 7:24 pm
  

User avatar
Arlo Fanatic

Joined: Jan 09, 2003
Posts: 2491
Images: 5
Location: Rhododendron, Oregon United States
~Enter George Jackson and the first mate (carryin 497 1/2 feet of rope)~

They say in unison: "I hope there are no icebergs."


          Top  
Reply with quote  
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Sun Jun 29, 2003 4:35 pm
  

ArloNetizen

Joined: Apr 10, 2003
Posts: 52
Location: Hoagland, IN, USA
"Commander Riper, when did you get in the storyline?" asked Mr. Lulu, surprised Riper wasn't directing.

"Oh, just now, I guess..." Riper seemed distracted.

"What a cute puppy," he smiled, but Mr. Lulu stopped him short of petting the mongrel.

"That mutt just bit off the Captain's hand," he said, and Riper backed off, looking suspiciously at the dog.

"Uh, which Captain would that be?" asked Riper, looking even more suspicious.

"THE Captain, of course," answered Lulu, wondering what was wrong with this overacting ham.

"Where is he?" asked Riper.

"He's in the Symbionation Ward, growing another hand, of course."

"Silly me." Riper wasn't himself today. He'd planned on an early retirement, and here he was, back on the bridge of this confounded ship.

"What's the situation?" he asked, trying his hardest to care.

"We have taken on some alien beings, known as Folktopeds. Apparantly they rule Time and Space, but somehow got stranded millions of miles from their home planet, much as we have done. They don't really play the same kind of music as we do, favoring hundreds of disparate melodies at the exact same moment, but then, they may have a more sophisticated ear. We're not sure, but they do have some pretty good poetry."

Riper had heard enough. Weren't they still in the disco quadrant?

"Look, I think if the entire ship would simply boogy down, we'd have a much better chance of returning home with our sanity."

"Embrace Disco? Have you gone mad?" Lulu was jumping up and down in perfect 4/4 time, without even realizing it, and Riper started playing the Tuba.

Soon, colored lights flooded the bridge, and as a thin veil of fog covered the floor, dancers came from every deck, and began their sweet undulations. The console lit up with complaints from the Folktopeds, who were experiencing intense pain from the pounding beat.

"Stop all this foolishness, stop it at once!" screamed Albert Schwhitzer, who had given up on spelling altogether, "you've got it all wrong!"

"What do you mean, wrong?" asked Riper, who had just started to get something going with a really cute blonde with little ridges on her forehead, "is somebody out of step?"

"No, actually the dancing's pretty good," answered Albert Schwiitzer, if that even was his name, "but we're not in the Disco quadrant anymore!"

First there was a surreal hush, and then everyone began jumping up and screaming, "we're going home! We're going home!"

"Now stop that!" shouted Albert Shwictzer, as he worked through his current identity crisis, "we are going home, but we're not there yet. We have another obstacle."

"And what would that be?" asked Mr. Tuck, who had finally stopped kissing the Seven Sisters of Sarnia, at least for the moment.

"We still have to make it through a very dark, and sinister region of space. A region so feared, it isn't even on the star charts. A region where few will be able to retain their own sanity."

"And what region is that?" asked Tuck, going back to kissing the Seven Sisters of Sarnia.

"The Heavy Metal Region."

A chill went through the entire population of Starship Blunderer, as the distant sound of guitars with way too much distortion started vibrating the ship's hull.

"Captain," said Mr. Peabody into his cartoon communicator, "I recommend we go to Muave Alert, and issue the necessary equipment to all personnel."

"And what would that equipment be?" asked the Captain, who wasn't aware of the Protocol, or even sure what a Protocol was.

"Earplugs."

The crew nodded in solemn agreement.


          Top  
Reply with quote  
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Sun Jun 29, 2003 6:36 pm
  

User avatar
Arlo Fanatic

Joined: Sep 15, 1999
Posts: 7431
"...by the way," the captain said as if he'd just remembered something he wanted to ask, "why do you carry that rope?"

george (J.J.) jackson and the first mate look at one another and decide to plead the fifth (in this case) and instead of answering the question stood in natural attitudes ready to listen should the captain have anything more to say, and were giving every appearance of being interested should he decide to say it.

"oh never mind!!!" the captain said decidedly after many minutes of having forgotten the question.

there seemed more issues flaring up at the moment than one could shake a leprechaun at...something for everyone...an invitation if ever i saw one to make something up...and a damn good read to boot.
santa rhea sat pondering on her crystal ball on yet another alien civilization in another dimension but who were right here among everyone else after all but can only manifest themselves through the spontaneous blending of conscious ideas...

"or semiconscious ideas!" scotchy announced with much confidence.

and he's right, thought captain riper in a suddenly reflective mood wondering where all the random thoughts had come from all of a sudden.

santa rhea sangria (second cousin thrice removed to counselor coy) had only intended to channel in briefly and will be running along now due to a prior engagement...

<center><FONT COLOR="#000080">--- Edited 1 times, lastly by agnes on Jun 29, 2003 ---</FONT></center>


          Top  
Reply with quote  
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Mon Jun 30, 2003 9:05 pm
  

ArloNetizen

Joined: Apr 10, 2003
Posts: 52
Location: Hoagland, IN, USA
"Captain! I can't take much more of this!" Lulu screamed, as the Captain re-emerged from the ship's medical wing, sporting a dandy new Titanium and Phibulex hand.

"Who are you?" he asked Commander Riper, although he looked vaguely familiar.

"Sir, I'm Commander Riper; a character who in many ways is based on your own personality, that is, if you're Jim. I assumed command while you were having your hand sewn on."

"I didn't have my hand 'sewn on,'" said the Captain, with a sour look on his face. "They made me a new hand, out of some of the greatest technology and materials since the dawn of time. That other hand had Space Puppy Spit all over it. Yuck!"

He continued, "and that was very thoughtful of you to just assume you can take command whenever anybody's having a limb re-attached, or synthisized."

Mr Checkup jumped in.

"I am guessing wessels run wery smoothly when you are aboard," he spat.

Commander Riper was just getting going on his "huffy" trip, but an overzealous writer wrote him out of the scene.

"That noise is killing me," Mr. Lulu went back to complaining.

"Where are your earplugs?" the enraged Captain asked, trying to remember what earplugs were.

"Sir, the Folktopeds have a tendency to explode whenever they hear this horrible din, getting icky goo all over the tennis courts, and Pepsi machines," answered Lulu, sadly, "so I had to give them mine."

"Your what?" demanded the Captain.

"My earplugs, sir."

"Mr. Tuck, come in!" said the Captain into a small red box, and then cursed, "why doesn't this damned thing work?"

"Umm, that's a dead battery, sir," answered Mr. Lulu, momentarily forgetting to whine.

"Well, what do I do?" asked the Captain, with a glare.

"Try this, sir," said Checkup, holding a Nokia Cellphone, "the reception is wery good."

"Mr. Tuck, run an analysis on what these 'earplugs' are, will ya?" the Captain bellowed.

"Affirmitive sir," Tuck replied craftily, "indications are that they are small plugs one puts in one's ears."

"Perfect!" shouted the Captain, as the "Bells are Ringing" part of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony swelled in volume on the soundtrack. No one knew why.

But then it was right back to the distorted guitars, and pounding drums of something called "Motley Crue."

"I want more of these earplugs, and I wanted them distributed all over this thing we're on."

"This ship," volunteered Lulu.

"This Wessel," said Checkup, predictably.

"Whatever," said the Captain, storming out the main hallway, past several exploding Folktopeds.

"Gee, that's too bad about Kalron the Not To Be Believed," he mused, "I really enjoyed some of his stuff."

"What IS this garbage?" screamed the Captain.

"I don't know sir, but it is wery loud," answered Checkup, who was running along behind, but the Captain didn't hear him.

"What happened to that Riper guy?" screamed the Captain, at the top of his lungs.

"He was written out of the scene," said Ensign Bruiser, Nurse Ratchet, Sloppy, and Albert Schweitezr all in unison.

"Well write him back in," pleaded the Captain to the heavens above, "for God's sake, somebody write him back in!"


          Top  
Reply with quote  
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Tue Jul 01, 2003 4:42 pm
  

User avatar
Arlo Fanatic

Joined: Sep 15, 1999
Posts: 7431
"well," the captain confided with the captain who had been feeling like he'd been walking round and round in circles as though through a revolving door because he had been...but before he had a chance to say another word, in thundered dorff (played by tim conway) of the house of mug, and along side him scotchy who was shouting at the middle of his voice, "they call me mr. scotchy!"

captain riper, with an air of "you see what i mean?" had placed his thumb and forefinger at the bridge of his nose and to captain jim confides after all, "you see now why i have this headache?"

"but i thought it was the heavily distorted super loud music." reasoned captain jim questionably.

"oh, perhaps you're right." responded captain riper in an enlighted tone while admiring the very realistic titanium and phibulex hand he saw shaking inches from his nose in the form of a fist although it seemed slightly irridescent on the side of blue.

(not that captain jim had any insecurity issues to work through or anything)

lulu skirts in ever so discreetly and proclaims with an irish lilt, "captain(s), the folktoped situation is beginning to escalate out of control," then leans in and whispers loudly, "and it ain't pretty!"

"well then, let's turn this heap around and go someplace else, hmmm?"

"this ship?"

"this wessel?"

just then, from deep within the belly of the ship could be heard a moan, like the sound of metal being pulled away from itself, and scotchy could be heard to say,
"the hull! it's about to rip!"


          Top  
Reply with quote  
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Tue Jul 01, 2003 5:25 pm
  

User avatar
Arlo Fanatic

Joined: Sep 12, 2000
Posts: 6520
Location: New Jersey
Captain's Log: stardate 1969.something:

***It seems that the ships scribes have been hit with a "muse ray" that has been filtered through a prism of smoke from a cannabis plant know only to be grown at the ancient nuclear test site at Yucca Flats Nevada on planet Earth. I don't really know what this means, but the ship's log has been some intresting reading of late.I'll finish this entry later, I need to go now as I have a case of the munchies. Captian out.***


          Top  
Reply with quote  
 Post subject:
PostPosted: Tue Jul 01, 2003 8:46 pm
  

User avatar
Arlo Fanatic

Joined: Aug 25, 1999
Posts: 1089
Location: Ocala, FL, USA
Larry, send me over half a case of those munchies. Yes? No? Maybe?


          Top  
Reply with quote  
 
Post new topic Reply to topic



Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest


Display posts from previous:  Sort by  
Jump to:  

You cannot post new topics in this forum
You cannot reply to topics in this forum
You cannot edit your posts in this forum
You cannot delete your posts in this forum
You cannot post attachments in this forum


Powered by phpBB © 2000, 2002, 2005, 2007 phpBB Group