posted 05-15-99 07:02 PM ET        

Still here? Good. Let us go then.

(CWAL HV HQ)

The DirectorGeneral comes into the computer room dragging a wagon full of lemons behind him.

The DG: Ha HA! That little puke at the corner stand thought he could laugh at my fedora and throw rotten feces at me, could he? Well, take THAT, Mr. Capitalist Oppressor!

The DirectorGeneral reaches into his pocket and triumphantly displays the head of the kid which pissed him off.

Imran: DG, that's sick.

The DG: I'm gonna put it up as a trophy. Where do you think it'd look better, on a stake on the front yard or above the fireplace?

Imran: We don't have a fireplace.

The DG: Whaat? But I had a real whopper of a fire going a few minutes ago, threw a bunch of wood and stuff into it and everything. I... oh, shit.

The DG scurries off. A few seconds later, there is a horrific BANG. He makes his way back into the room several seconds later, horribly burned.

The DG: No.. bad... beer bad...

The DG falls on the floor, unconscious. Victor appears and drags him into the infirmary.

The DG: Wha... what is that?

Victor: Oh, it's nothing. It's just a mild sedative. You won't feel anything.

The DG: No... get that thing away from me! Away, I tell you! The anal probe is bad! YOU'LL NEVER GET ME, FOUL ALIEN PRODUCT TESTERS! WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

The DG tosses his fedora into the air, whips out a pair of Desert Eagle .44s, and starts blasting them into the air. In a frenzy, he rushes outside HQ and onto the street outside, where he is promptly run over by a bus.

jsorense: Phew! I didn't get severely injured this time!

An anvil lands on jsorense's head.

jsorense: You call THIS an anvil? This is an anvil-shaped construct made out of week-old solidified mineral water! What, did you run out of ammo or something?

Thousands of spent shells rain down on jsorense's head.

jsorense: Fine, fine, I can take a hint. If anybody needs me, I'll be digging through the dumpster out back.

jsorense leaves. Imran leans over to Fjorxc.

Imran: Didn't we replace the dumpster with that jsorense-eating mutant hybrid yesterday?

Fjorxc: SHIT!

Fjorxc rushes to the window and sees jsorense running madly, trying to get away from the mutant hybrid on his tail. After realizing that running won't do him much good, jsorense whips out a SuperProSMAC rifle.

jsorense: Eat THIS!

jsorense puts a good fifty SuperProSMAC darts into the mutant hybrid. The mutant hybrid immediately stops chasing jsorense, lumbers off to a nearby Internet terminal, logs on to the Game forum, and starts posting a bunch of idiotic crap about how CTP kicks SMAC's ass.

jsorense: Well, there's one mystery less. Now, I must be off to IIIS secret HQ. Thou art God, God is great.

jsorense walks off into the sunset, triumphant.

Imran: It's 2:45 in the afternoon.

jsorense: I knew that...

A door creaks open somewhere in HQ, and Freerunner wanders into the computer room. However, her clothing is somewhat, shall we say... atypical.

Imran: AAAH! Kesus Dhrist, woman, put some clothes on!

Freerunner throws a mug of coffee into Imran's face. He screams as the coffee starts to burn his face and begins to try and claw his eyeballs out.

Freerunner: Shut up! I am wearing stuff, it's just a little... less... than usual.

Fjorxc: A little less? A loincloth would leave more to the imagination than THAT!

Freerunner: Doesn't matter. I have recently discovered that when I dress like this, I can exert goddess-like powers over Norf. Watch. *ahem* Norf, my, uh, significant other, come here.

Norf prances merrily and stupidly into the room, making a complete ass of himself in front of the rest of the CWALers. He seems to be suspended a couple of centimeters off the floor.

Norf almost hypnotically: What is it you wish of me?

Freerunner: I'm kinda bored today... do me a favor, break into the Pentagon and steal the nuclear launch codes.

Norf: You have only but to say, and I shall do.

Norf prances outside, leaps into his '72 Ford Pinto, and races to Washington.

Freerunner: See? Ultimate powers.

Fjorxc: Yes. Well then, have you seen Exile anywhere?

Freerunner: I put a laser into his kneecap a few minutes ago. I caught him trying to put another video camera in my room.

Fjorxc: That Exile, always the pervert. How much metal we recycled from the cameras you and Norf broke since Friday?

Freerunner: Exactly 17.464 metric tonnes.

Fjorxc: Ah. Wait a minute, you didn't seriously injure him, did you?

Freerunner: Who cares? He can walk, he'll be fine.

At that point Exile comes into the computer room, a half-empty bottle of Ghazporkian Whiskey in his hand. That is to say, he came into the room, but he didn't walk into the room. The walking he had entrusted to his faithful Pok�mon, Pikachu.

Pikachu eyes closed, teeth clenched: Pika...

Exile: Just a little more... right a bit... left a bit... a little more forward... oh, now back... there. There, you got it.

Pikachu drops Exile onto the floor, and then collapses from near-exhaustion.

Pikachu: ...kachu...

Exile: Take a five minute break, then you can take me down to the beer store again.

Freerunner: Beer store? Exile, you have enough alcohol to power every automobile in North America for the next twenty years. You have enough booze to choke the Mississippi. You singlehandedly keep Budweiser, Coors, Kokanee, and fifteen other beer companies in business. Why do you need more?

Exile: You can never have too much beer, as far as I'm concerned...

Freerunner: What about those AA meetings we've been sending you to?

Exile: You know, you'd be surprised as to how pissed off they get just by trying to smuggle a beer-filled Super Soaker into one of those.

Freerunner: For Hod's sake... let's just do something else, right?

Exile: Fine by me.

Exile shakes up his bottle of Ghazporkian Whiskey and sprays it on Freerunner.

Freerunner: Ahh! Hey, gimme that! Freerunner grabs the bottle with surprisingly little resistance from Exile and starts to read the label "Warning: if insanely drunk Dark Templars spray any amount of this liquid on human females, bad things are going to happen." Phew. Glad that doesn't affect me.

Freerunner turns into a centaur.

Freerunner: Not again. I hate it when this happens. Ah well. Woohoo, Springer's on!

Imran, Fjorxc, Exile, Pikachu, and Freerunner walk and gallop off to the TV room. Meanwhile, the DG stumbles into HQ again.

The DG: Damn you, Martin Scorsese...

END.

Well, there it is. Half an hour of me writing pure insane drivel. Hope you enjoyed it. I know I'm going to be in for a shock once I read over this.