Apparently this has become my own little story place. Feel free to leave comments if you should so choose. -Robyn The Cyber Robo Alien Bug-Infested Drug Dealer Cop
Enters
The City of Kinky Dark Virtual Flaming Entrails
The Cyber Robo Alien Bug-Infested Drug Dealer Cop (Hmm. I'm starting to realize that's rather a cumbersome title for the main character of a story, since I will be referring to him multiple times in a page. I should at this point in the story give you, the reader, another shorter name, by which we will call him from this point onward. Let's see. We could call him CRAB-IDDC for short, but it's not really much shorter. We could also refer to him as Kevin, which is his real name, but you are not supposed to know his real name. It makes the story less dramatic. Instead, he will be referred to as The Cop, which is good, broad, bold name, and generally very satisfying. Also, short, which was the original intent. Anyway...) The Cyber Robo Alien Bug-Infested Drug Dealer Cop (The Cop) muttered to himself as he drove through the heavy, wet, and extremely dark rain towards the ominous, evil-smelling, dirty, and above all else, dark, city. He was in a foul mood and in no mood to be a cheerful, kind, helpful, law-abiding citizen, which was just as well because he was headed towards possibly the world's least cheerful, kind, helpful, and law-abiding city. While it had not been exactly his choice to make the journey, late at night on a Saturday, he was not eager to displease whoever it was who had sent him there. (I haven't made it up yet. Don't worry, I'll figure it out.) Besides, the city matched his mood and all. The Cop let his mind wander, reflecting over his life and past. (A clever ruse, you see, to give you his history and stuff without having to carefully work it into the story and all that baloney.) By day he was a cheerful, kind, helpful, and law-abiding citizen, a cop with a wife and two lovely children. But by night, he led another, hidden life He suddenly snapped back to attention as he drove past the sign on the side of the road, reading the words with half-dread, half-excitement: You are now entering the city of Kinky Dark Virtual Flaming Entrails. He gripped the steering wheel extra tight, making slice marks in the plastic with his vaguely alien-like hands. He felt his weevil-infested robotic heart beat with dread and excitement, mostly at getting the job finished. All he needed to do was get to the edge of the city, drop off the methahyperass, and get the hell out of there. He made his turnoff. As he rounded the corner of the ominous, tree-filled, lush, and dark forest, he could see the clearing where he would make the deal. He climbed out of his dark car and grabbed his shovel out of the back. This was the part of the deal he hated the most. Digging up all that dirt, waking the dead, convincing them they had no choice but to deliver the drugs to justify their existence.... It was all such a chore. He sighed, and dug in. When the ground had finally been unearthed, he headed back to the car for the goods. He dug them out of the super-secret compartment inside the knob of the stick-shift, holding the flashlight in his alien mouth. Returning to the grave, he paused to read the name on the headstone before rapping, loudly, on the top of the coffin. "Mr. Delaney! Get up!" When he got no answer, he sighed, realizing he'd forgotten to say the magic super-secret word that made the command work. "Mr. Delaney! Get the /hell/ up!" He felt the coffin shiver underneath him and he hastily leaped up onto the ground, using his powerful robotic alien legs to launch him upwards. He watched as a disgruntled looking Mr. Delaney rose up from the ground, looking annoyed and dead. "Well, what in the hell do you want?" He explained. It took a whole lot of coercion but he convinced him of the dire need of these drugs for the little refugee Albanian children. Apparently Mr. Delaney had been gullible in life because he bought this, and trudged off towards the center of town, carrying the drugs for the 'helpless Albanian refugees.' The Cop drove home, sighing happily. Another night's work was over. The money for tonight's service would show up in his bank account tomorrow. Now he just needed to... Suddenly his car sputtered and slowed to a stop. "Damn," said the Cop. I'm out of gas, he thought. He slumped over the wheel and considered his next move. Obviously he needed more if he was to return to his law-abiding home and family. However, out on this highway past midnight, it was unlikely he would... Out of nowhere, a giant trenchcoat-wearing rat scurried up and knocked on his window. The cop unrolled it a crack. "Hey, mister," squeaked the rat in what was apparently intended to be a whisper, "you want some gas?" "Um," said the Cop. "I have all kinds," explained the rat, opening his trenchcoat to reveal little pockets full of little bottles of liquid. "Unleaded? Super-unleaded? I also have milk. Would you like some milk?" "Hmm," said the cop, considering. "I'll take a gallon of unleaded and a glass of two percent." "Sure." The rat filled his gas tank while the cop sipped at his milk. It had an interesting texture... The rat returned to his car, and the cop handed him some cash. The rat giggled. "Enjoy your milk. It does the body good, you know." The cop drove off again, full of milk and feeling pleased. He'd stiffed the rat five bucks. He suppressed a giggle. He enjoyed taking advantage of helpless... Suddenly, his stomach began to rumble and twist around inside his alien gut. Hey, he thought, did that slimy rat put something in my... He began to writhe around with pain, swerving across three lanes of traffic before he lost consciousness.
The police were greeted with a strange sight when they arrived at the scene of the accident. The car had rammed into a telephone pole, then skidded back across the road, managing to crash into three other vehicles. The occupant of the crashed car was very dead, but not, apparently, from the wreck. When they pried the car door open, they discovered the driver, twisted in his seat, his mouth open in what had been a scream. There was a huge hole in the front of his body. Apparently his stomach had exploded, blowing a hole inside him and killing him. The front windshield had been smashed, but that was not considered noteworthy nor unusual.
Across the street from the wreck a rat wearing a strange little garment and a newborn calf, wet with blood, made their way back to the farm a mile down the road. The rat snickered. And now...(bum bum bum Bah bum..) what you've all been waiting for...the suquel! Yaaaaay! The Cyber Robo Alien Bug-Infested Drug Dealer Cop's Clone
Enacts Revenge Upon
The Young Rebellious Artifically-Created Teenage Biker Cow
The rat sighed as he looked down the highway. Tulip (yes, this is the Young Rebellious Artifically-Created Teenage Biker Cow's name. I know. I feel sorry for her too.) was late again. "Damnit," he muttered to himself. "She's going to miss morning milking." Suddenly he felt the earth begin to quake, and a most ungodly noise echoed through the valley. He half-smiled, covered his ears, and watched her Harley roar up. Tulip (who hated her name, and made anybody she liked call her Bruce instead) parked the bike around the back of the barn, and walked around to the front to face the music. Trust that stupid rat to get on her case about missing milking again. She wished he understood the needs of an intelligent young cow better. Except for her, he only dealt with brain dead heifers who had long ago ceased to have any thoughts of their own, and younger calves who didn't seem to have any thoughts of their own to begin with. She rolled her eyes. Well, she wasn't going to stand for this milking nonsense much longer. The rat sighed when she came around the corner. "Tulip..." He paused and rolled his eyes for emphasis. "When are going to learn to dress as a proper cow ought?" Tulip looked down at her leather bomber jacket with a cow skull sewn on the back. "What, the jacket?" "Yes, the jacket, and isn't that a new tattoo?" Tulip beamed. "Actually, it is. Do you like it?" "No." Tulip gritted her teeth. "Nor," continued the rat, "do I care for all of those ridiculous earrings. When are you going to learn to act your age?" I can't help it, thought Tulip. I'm supposed to be a Young Rebellious Artificially-Created Teenage Biker Cow. She did not choose to voice that opinion. Instead, she snorted. The rat smiled again. He had her completely cowed. "Tulip, go get in line. Milking's not quite over yet, and if you're good, I think we've put out some new alfalfa you could share with the other girls." It was the alfalfa that did it. Tulip hated alfalfa but the rat never remembered because she was the only one out of 813 cows who didn't. "I'm not going in to be milked," she said. "I'm tired of having my udder squeezed, day in, day out, just so that you can fulfill some stupid desire to rid the world of human beings. I'm not donating my eggs when I'm older either." The rat sputtered. "Furthermore," she continued. "I'm not staying at this slave farm any longer." At this the rat reared up. "Where in the world would a cow like you be welcome? You never do any work, never participate in any group activities with the girls, you pierce unnatural places, and you talk back to your father!" "First of all, you are not my father. You hatched me out of some horrible man's stomach. I don't know who my mother is, nor my father, but you are certainly not him. At best that cop who died when I was born was my father." "Second of all, I know of several places where I'd be welcome to stay. I had an offer only last week from Mel down at the greasy spoon to come and flip burgers for him. Not that I'd ever work for Mel because he pinches your behind when you're not looking, but I've had an offer I am going to take up. Sammy and I are going, now, and you can't stop me." With that, she turned and walked back to her bike, revved it up, and drove off. The rat was left standing, dumbfounded, in the dirt. His first thought was rage at Sammy, whom he was sure had hatched the whole plan. She was a bad, bad girl, and ever since Tulip had been 'dating' her (The rat thought it was unnatural for two heifers to go together, no matter what the two of them said to the contrary) she'd been sneaking off to God knows where, coming home late, balking at her chores..... He sighed, and went off to make sure the rest of the farm was running smoothly.
The Cyber Robo Alien Bug-Infested Drug Dealer's Clone (I think it would be rather amusing to call him the "Copy Cop" hereafter) smiled wickedly as he made his way through the dark towards the light of the biker bar. He was certain he'd find her here. He kicked open the door, and took in the scene before him. The inhabitants of the bar had turned and frozen at the sight of his cop uniform, and so he let his eyes play slowly over them all The larger, meaner looking cow rose from her seat. Boldly, she looked him straight in the eye. "We haven't done anything wrong. What's your problem?" The cop just smiled wickedly at her. "You resist? Then I must control you more.... forcibly." As he finished this statement, he flicked a switch at his side and whipped out a gleaming white stick, which buzzed dangerously. The other inhabitants of the bar looked nonplused at this but both cows gasped and immediately stood and filed quietly out of the bar, seething with fury but obedient. The Copy Cop cackled. He knew the cattle prod would do the trick. He led the two now-complacent heifers out to his truck, where he loaded them into the back. He threw some alfalfa in to keep them fed until they reached their new home, started his truck, and roared off.
Tulip was desperately plotting ways to somehow open the back door of the trailer and leap out onto the highway. She cursed, and kicked the trailer. While this dented the trailer and made her feel slightly better, it did not help her out of the mess she was in. Next to her, Sammy had begun to bawl. Tulip felt like crying as well, but she wasn't about to let the situation get the better of her. She searched around for some way, any way out. She felt the truck lurch and she could see grass through the cracks in the trailer walls, and in the distance what she took to be a barn, though it had been long abandoned. She kicked the trailer again, this time the door, but to no avail. In the end she simply comforted Sammy as best she could and schemed more ways to escape. The trailer door suddenly flew open and standing outside it was the cop. He was grinning again. They were trapped. There was nowhere to go. He'd driven the truck right up to the barn door. And even if she could, she couldn't leave Sammy, who was frightened out of her wits. Her eyes were rolling and she was even drooling a bit. Tulip looked at the cop, then at Sammy's wide eyes, and got angry. Really angry. She stomped her foot. Smoke began to trickle out her nostrils as she vowed that before the night ended she'd have that horrible cop laid to permanent rest.
The Copy Cop leaned over the fence rail and grinned crookedly at the bovines in their pen. He'd gotten where he wanted them. Now it was time for Phase II. But first... it would be so much more... satisfying if the wretched beasts knew beforehand what was going to happen to them. He strode boldly into their stall, and began to speak, in what he hoped was a low, evil, dark-sounding tone. "You animals thought you were so smart, hatching calves out innocent milk drinker's stomachs. You got my father that way, it's true. But I'm here to make sure no more innocent humans suffer at your leader's hands." "Prowling around this barn are a dozen kittens. These kitties, once fully trained, will become your evil rat leader's doom. For, you see, these are not your average felines. Not only are they being trained in the most effective methods of rat-catching by an excellent ratter, but their DNA has been manipulated. When they are adult, they will weigh over fifty pounds each, and resemble tigers." He stopped here to have a giggling fit, having overwhelmed himself with his own diabolical wickedness. "You might think this is horrible in itself Tulip blinked. She blinked again. There was no doubt in her mind what needed to be done. She was not going to be anyone's slave, not for the rat and not for this creepy cop. She began to confer with Sammy, who nodded. The cop finally managed to pull himself together. He straightened. "We're going to have to change some things, though. I can't have you running around with tattoos... I don't want to scare the kittens. And those earrings! They'll be the first to go." He reached for Tulip's left ear. This, of course, was the opportunity the cows had been waiting for. Tulip backed up, and as she did this Sammy turned in front of Tulip. She gave an almighty kick and the cop sailed clear across the barn and slammed into the opposite wall. He slid down the wall and lay, bruised and bleeding, on the floor. He did not move. When the cop had woken from his brief nap, he stood and attempted to focus his eyes again. One cow was removing the other's earring. She dropped the circular brass object onto the straw. The cows began to dance. (If you could call it dancing. It looked like a cross between a square dance and two agitated washing machines.) The cop found himself transfixed, unable to move or tear his eyes from the strange spectacle. When the cows had both completed three cycles around the earring, they began to sing. This surprised the cop. (What, because cows can't dance, they can't sing either?) What happened next amazed him even more.
Tulip finished her dance, and stood, panting, hoping she had done everything right and the earring respond as she hoped. She and Sammy hummed for a second, to get their voices in tune, and then, in two-part harmony, delivered the message to Tulip's brass talisman. The earring rose into the air slowly, gracefully, like the bird of paradise. Once it had reached about eye level, it began to whirl, slowly at first, then accelerating until it was only a blur. Gradually the colors within the glowing orb began to melt and transform from the original bronze to a mixture of yellow and fiery red. For a moment it spun so brilliantly that it was impossible to gaze on it. Slowly it lost its angular momentum and slowed until Tulip could see its transformation. Somewhere in the distance the cop was screaming. The brilliant yellow bird with red plumage (that had once been Tulip's earring) screeched once, turned, and flew straight for the cop's horrified face. It dived, and flew, impossibly, up the cop's nose.
The last thing the cop felt was a tickling sensation of feathers in his nose. Then his head exploded.
Tulip strode over to the remains of the lifeless cop and kicked the body with disgust and satisfaction. She carefully dug through the remains until she found the familiar form of her earring. Lovingly, she dug it out, walked over to a trough of water, and dropped it in. She could hear, just behind her, wet chewing sounds mixed with mews. "Gross," she muttered. "But at least we won't have to bury the body." Sammy came up behind her. "No, we won't. I've been thinking, though, and this could all work out real sweet." Tulip listened and grinned.
If you were to drive down Highway 87 in northern Montana, and if you were looking closely, you might be able to spot a freshly painted barn out in the distance, and a comfortable old farmhouse undergoing some remodeling. If you were to drive up the gravel road, you might notice the human skull impaled on a pole. If you were to continue up the drive, and if you were a kind animal, a weary traveler, or a friend of the family, you would be invited in for a cup of tea, some homemade biscuits, or some blackberry pie, if it struck your fancy. If you were to take them up on such an offer, you would get to know the two kind lady cows who run the place, and see their twelve children, whom you would be sure to notice were not calves. If you were to spend time with the kittens, you would notice that they were exceptionally large creatures, with bright eyes, clear heads, and an exceptionally good nose for rats. You would not observe the mother cows discouraging this behavior. NBTSWikiWiki | Recent Changes Edited 4 times, last edited on April 14, 2001 by 65.12.165.24. © 2000 NBTSC Webmasters |
that of a Cyber Robo Alien Bug-Infested Drug Dealer! (Yes, he was in fact cyber, robo, alien, and bug-infested in the day too. And, technically, a drug dealer. Don't bother me with silly details.) He was on his way to the city of Kinky Dark Virtual Flaming Entrails that evening with a gargantuan shipment of methahyperass, a new, extremely addictive, highly deadly street drug. It was popular mostly with middle-aged white guys, which is how the otherwise kind, law-abiding cop justified selling such huge amounts of it. There was enough in tonight's shipment to keep him and his lovely, law-abiding children and wife in Gap clothing for the rest of their lovely, law-abiding lives. Plus possibly a new Ginsu knife. He liked knives. His wife said he was obsessive about keeping them sharp and deadly, but he always said he wanted her to be able to slice those tomatoes nice and thin. Not that she ever sliced tomatoes. She didn't really like to cook, and the dignified Cop often found himself slaving over a hot stove at the end of his otherwise dignified day, while she, smirking, did some other task, such as water the begonias. He would have to speak to her about that. Those begonias simply did not need that much water....
