MiSTing: THE EYE OF ARGON 2/8

[a.ca...@genie.geis.com]

[Continued from Part 1]

> -2-
>
> Arriving after dusk in Gorzom,grignr descended down a dismal alley,
>reining his horse before a beaten tavern. The redhaired giant strode into
>the dimly lit hostelry reeking of foul odors,

Mike: I guess anyone would reek of foul odors after a few days on the road.

>and cheap wine.

Crow: That's right -- even the poor can enjoy the wonders of wine! This
message brought to you by the Booze Council.

>The air was
>heavy with chocking fumes spewing from smolderingtorches encased within
>theden's earthen packed walls. Tables were clustered with groups of
>drunken thieves, and cutthroats, tossing dice, or making love to willing
>prostitutes.

Tom: Some missed the point and tossed the dice to the willing prostitutes.

> Eyeing a slender female crouched alone at a nearby bench, Grignr

Tom: Grignr?
Mike: Look, we're already on the second chapter. Get over it.
Tom: I know, I know, it's just... I'd like at least buy a vowel or
something.

>advanced wishing to wholesomely occupy his time. The flickering torches
>cast weird shafts of luminescence dancing over the half naked

Crow: Which half?

>harlot of his
>choice, her stringy orchid twines of hair swaying gracefully over the lithe
>opaque nose,

Mike: I suppose opaqueness =would= be a good quality in a nose.
Crow: It beats transparency, anyway.

>as she raised a half drained mug to her pale red

Crow: You mean pink?
Mike: Let's not jump to conclusions.

>lips.
> Glancing upward, the alluring complexion noted the stalwart giant as
>he rapidly approached. A faint glimmer sparked from the pair of deep blue
>ovals

Crow: You mean eyes?
Mike: Let's not jump to conclusions.

>of the amorous female as she motioned toward Grignr,

Crow: Tom--
Tom: I'm over it, I'm over it.

>enticing him to
>join her. The barbarian seated himself upon a stool at the wenches side,
>exposing

Mike: --a fraudulent chain of car dealerships. All this and Andy Rooney,
tonight on "60 Minutes".

>his body, naked save for a loin cloth brandishing a long steel
>broad sword,

Crow: That's one belligerent loincloth!

>an iron spiraled battle helmet, and a thick leather sandals,
>to her unobstructed view.

Tom: So he remembered not to stand behind a brick wall this time.

> "Thou hast need to occupy your time, barbarian",questioned the female?

Mike: Don't ask me, you're the writer!

> "Only if something worth offering is within my reach." Stated
>Grignr,as his hands crept to embrace the tempting female, who welcomed them
>with open willingness.
> "From where do you come barbarian,

Crow: You mean you're a prostitute and you don't know from where guys--
Mike: Don't make me wash your mouth out with soap.

>and by what are you called?"

Tom: Believe me, you don't want to know what he's called.

>Gasped
>the complying wench, as Grignr smothered her lips with the blazing touch of
>his flaming mouth.

Crow: Gamera has one of those!

> The engrossed titan

Mike [falsetto]: So, you want to make out or something?
Tom [Grignr]: Just let me finish this chapter. I'll tell you, I had my
doubts, but I can't get enough about this new Gail Sheehy book! It's like
she's talking about me!

>ignored the queries of the inquisitive female,
>pulling her towards him and crushing her sagging nipples

Crow: Eww!

>to his yearning
>chest. Without struggle she gave in, winding her soft arms around the
>harshly bronzedhide of Grignr corded shoulder blades, as his calloused
>hands caressed her firm protruding busts.

Mike: One was of Shakespeare, the other of Beethoven.

> "You make love well wench," Admitted Grignr

Tom: He may be a barbarian, but he's a silver-tongued devil.

>as he reached for the vessel of potent wine

Crow [falsetto]: At least the =wine='s potent.
Tom [Grignr]: Shut up! I swear this has never happened to me before!

>his charge had been quaffing.
> A flying foot

Mike: Of blinding steel?
Tom: Must belong to Prince Namor.

>caught the mug Grignr had taken hold of, sending its
>blood red contents sloshing over a flickering crescent;

Crow: I believe it's spelled "croissant".

>leashing tongues of bright orange flame to the foot trodden floor.

Mike: Thanks for clearing that up. I thought maybe everyone was going
around walking on their hands.

> "Remove yourself Sirrah, the wench belongs to me;" Blabbered a drunken
>soldier, too far consumed by the influences of his virile brew to

Crow: --write a coherent story. His name? Jim Theis.

>take note of the superior size of his adversary.
> Grignr lithly bounded from the startled female, his face lit up to an
>ashen red ferocity, and eyes locked in a searing feral blaze toward the
>swaying soldier.
> "To hell with you, braggard!" Bellowed the angered Ecordian,

Tom: Accompanied by a rather ticked-off Ermonica.

>as he hefted his finely honed broad sword.
> The staggering soldier clumsily reached towards the pommel of his
>dangling sword, but before his hands ever touched the oaken hilt a silvered
>flash was slicing the heavy air. The thews of the savages lashing right
>arm bulged from the glistening bronzed hide as his blade bit deeply into
>the soldiers neck, loping off the confused head of his senseless tormentor.
> With a nauseating thud the severed oval

Crow: You mean his head?
Mike: Let's not jump to conclusions.

>toppled to the floor, as the segregated torso

Mike: This story must take place back when torsos were "separate but
equal."

>of Grignr's bovine antagonist swayed, then collapsed in a
>pool of swirled crimson.
> In the confusion the soldier's fellows confronted Grignr with
>unsheathed cutlasses, directed toward the latters scowling make-up.

Tom: Grignr does tend to overdo it with the mascara.

> "The slut

Crow: A slut? Where?

>should have picked his quarry more carefully!" Roared the
>victor in a mocking baritone growl,

Mike: Funny, I pictured him as more of a mezzo-soprano.

>as he wiped his dripping blade on the
>prostrate form, and returned it to its scabbard.
> "The fool should have shown more prudence,

Tom: At this juncture.

>however you shall rue your
>actions while rotting in the pits." Stated one of the sprawled soldier's
>comrades.
> Grignr's hand began to remove his blade from its leather housing, but
>retarded

Mike: Don't say anything. Too easy.

>the motion in face of the blades waving before his face.
> "Dismiss your hand from the hilt, barbarbian, or you shall find a foot
>of steel

Mike: Blinding steel! It's a flying foot of blinding steel!

>sheathed in your gizzard."
> Grignr weighed his

Tom: --manuscript, _Being and Nothingness_; oddly enough, it weighed
exactly one kilogram.

>position observing his plight, where-upon he took
>the soldier's advice as the only logical choice.

Mike: When I think of logic, I think of three names: Descartes; Spock;
Grignr.

>To attempt to hack his way

Crow: Into the Pentagon and download the launch codes?

>from his present predicament could only warrant certain death.

All: Do it! Do it!

>He was of no mind

Crow: Aw, come on, Mike!
Mike: I said no. Way too easy.

>to bring upon his own demise if an alternate path presented
>itself. The will to necessitate his life forced him to yield to the
>superior force in hopes of a moment of carlessness later upon the part of
>his captors in which he could effect a more plausible means of escape.

Mike: This translator isn't taking any liberties with the original Latin,
is he?

> "You may steady your arms,

Tom: This is a bar! No one here can steady their arms!
Crow: Neither can you, Tom.
Tom: At least I have an excuse.

>I will go without a struggle."
> "Your decision is a wise one,

Mike: When I think of wisdom, I think of three names: Solomon; Confucius;
Grignr.

>yet perhaps you would have been better off had you forced death,"

Crow: I know =we= would be.

>the soldier's mouth wrinkled

Tom: He ought to use a moisturizer.

>to a sadistic grin
>of knowing mirth as he prodded his prisoner on with his sword point.
> After an indiscriminate

Crow: Indiscriminate? Even the torsos are segregated around here!

>period of marching through slinking alleyways
>and dim moonlighted streets the procession confronted a massive seraglio.

Mike: Never say "seraglio" again.

>The palace area was surrounded by an iron grating, with a lush garden upon
>all sides.
> The group was admitted through the gilded gateway and Grignr was
>ledalong a stone pathway bordered by plush vegitation lustfully enhanced by
>the moon's shimmering rays.

Tom: When I get me a glimpse of that crabgrass, I get me a stirrin' in
my loins somethin' awful.

>Upon reaching the palace the group was granted
>entrance, and after several minutes of explanation,

Crow: It normally would've taken a couple seconds, but Jim Theis was doing
the explaining.

>led through several winding corridors to a richly draped chamber.
> Confronting the group was a short stocky man seated upona golden
>throne. Tapestries of richly draped regal blue silk covered all walls of
>the chamber, while the steps leading to the throne were plated with
>sparkling white ivory. The man upon the throne had a naked wench seated at
>each of his arms,

Crow: That must be one fat wench!
Mike: She's just big-boned.

>and a trusted advisor seated in back of him.

Tom: Who proceeded to bury a dagger between his shoulders.

>At each
>cornwr of the chamber a guard stood at attention, with upraised pikes
>supported in their hands, golden chainmail adorning their torso's

Crow: Adorning their torso's what?

>and barred helmets emitting scarlet plumes enshrouding their heads.

Tom: Sorry, I had the burrito con pollo combination plate for dinner.

>The man rose from his throne to the dias

Mike: Cameron Dias?

>surrounding it. His plush turquois robe
>dangled loosely from his chuncky frame.
> The soldiers surrounding Grignr fell to their knees with heads bowed
>to the stone masonry of the floor in fearful dignity

Mike: Nothing's quite as dignified as abject groveling.

>to their sovereign, leige.
> "Explain the purpose of this intrusion upon my chateau!"

Tom: So this Gorzom is in the Loire Valley?

> "Your sirenity, resplendent in noble grandeur, we have brought this
>yokel before you (the soldier gestured toward Grignr) for the redress or
>your all knowing wisdon in judgement regarding his fate."

Mike: I don't think I could've made it through that long tiring quote
without that refreshing parenthetical aside.

> "Down on your knees, lout, and pay proper homage to your sovereign!"
>commanded the pudgy noble of Grignr.
> "By the surly beard of Mrifk,

Tom: I'd =really= like to buy a vowel at this point.
Crow: Try buying about five.

>Grignr kneels to no man!" scowled the
>massive barbarian.
> "You dare to deal this blasphemous act to me!

Mike: What're you talking about? I dealt you a red king and a pair of
sevens!

>You are indeed brave
>stranger, yet your valor smacks of foolishness."
> "I find you to be the only fool,

Tom: Well, you and anyone who actually paid money to see the Jerky Boys
movie.

>sitting upon your pompous throne,
>enhancing the rolling flabs of your belly in the midst of your elaborate
>luxuryand ..."

Crow: Yeah! Yeah! Down with the aristocracy! Power to the proletariat!

>The soldier standing at Grignr's side smote him heavily in
>the face with the flat of his sword, cutting short the harsh words

Crow: That's how you make the words stop? Quick, someone find Jim Theis!

>and knocking his battered helmet to the masonry with an echo-ing clang.

Tom: Umm... is there a "W", Pat?
Mike: No, no, no. It's a religious thing. Like Y-HW-H or G-D.

> The paunchy noble's sagging round face flushed suddenly pale,

Crow: It flushed pale? Did it blanch red after that?

>then pastily lit up to a lustrous cherry red radiance.

Crow: Hold me.

>His lips trembled with malicious rage,

Tom: As opposed to good-natured rage.

>while emitting a muffled sibilant gibberish.

Mike: Mom, you just don't understand my generation's music!
Tom: If anyone's an authority on gibberish, it's Jim Theis.

>His sagging flabs rolled like a tub of upset jelly,

Crow: Delicious strawberry upset jelly!

>then compressed as he sucked in his
>gut in an attempt to conceal his softness.

Mike: He got sick of people poking him in the stomach and asking when
the rolls would be done.

> The prince regained his statue,

Tom: Someone had ripped it off and sold it to the local museum.

>then spoke to the soldiers surrounding
>Grignr, his face conforming to an ugly expression of sadistic humor.
> "Take this uncouth heathen to the vault of misery, and be sure that
>his agonies are long and drawn out

Crow: Make him read THE EYE OF ARGON!

>before death can release him."
> "As you wish sire, your command shall be heeded immediately," answered
>the soldier on the right of Grignr

Tom: Unlike the soldier, Grignr is pro-choice.

>as he stared into the barbarians seemingly unaffected face.
> The advisor seated in the back of the noble

Crow: In the back of the noble what?

>slowly rose and advanced
>to the side of his master, motioning the wenches seated at his sides to
>remove themselves. He lowered his head and whispered to the noble.

Mike: Psst! I didn't want to mention it in front of the prisoner, but
your fly, sir--

> "Eminence, the punishment you have decreed will cause much misery to
>this scum, yet it will last only a short time, then release him to a land
>beyond the sufferings of the human body.

Crow: Where Ecordian and Simarian alike romp in the blissful light of
harmony and friendship and everything is made of sweet, sweet chocolate.

>Why not mellow him

Mike: Quite rightly!

>in one of the
>subterranean vaults for a few days, then send him to life labor

Tom: It's not so bad as long as you get the epidural block.

>in one of
>your buried mines. To one such as he, a life spent in the confinement of
>the stygian pits will be an infinitely more appropiate and lasting
>torture."

Mike: Or even worse, make him spend it on the "It's a Small World" ride.
Tom: You monster!

> The noble cupped his drooping double chin in the folds of his briming
>palm, meditating for a moment

All: OM...

>upon the rationality of the councilor's word's,

Tom: Well, looky here! You =can= express it as a simple fraction!

>then raised his shaggy

Mike: Zoiks, Scoob, let's get outta here!

>brown eyebrows and turned toward the
>advisor, eyes aglow.

Crow [falsetto]: Oh, advisor, you're so cute!

> "...As always Agafnd,

Tom: I'm getting kinda low on cash. Just this once can you =give= me a
vowel?

>you speak with great wisdom. Your words ring of
>great knowledge concerning

Crow: --sparrows.

>the nature of one such as he ," sayeth , the king.

Mike: Whoa! Where'd the phony Elizabethan English come from?

>The noble turned toward the prisoner with a noticable shimmer
>reflecting in his frog-like eyes, and his lips contorting to a greasy grin.

Tom: [burp] 'Nother Big Mac, please.

>"I have decided to void my

Crow: --bladder.

>previous decree. The prisoner shall be removed
>to one of the palaces

Mike: Wow, what a change of heart!

>underground vaults. There he shall stay until I have
>decided that he has sufficiently simmered, whereupon he is to be

Mike: --served with croutons and freshly grated parmesan cheese.

>allowed to
>spend the remainder of his days at labor in one of my mines."

Crow: That mine is mine!

> Upon hearing this, Grignr realized that his fate would be far less
>merciful than death to one such as he, who is used to roaming the
>countryside at will. A life of confinement would be more than his body and
>mind could stand up to. This type of life would be immeasurably worse than
>death.

Tom: It would, however, be better than anything on the Warner Bros.
network.

> "I shall never understand the ways if your twisted civilization. I
>simply defend my honor and am condemned to life confinement, by a pig who
>sits on his royal ass

Mike: Grignr! Watch the language.

>wooing whores, and knows nothing of the affairs of the land

Crow: Sure he does! Like, his chief advisor was caught fooling around with
his wife's sister, and--

>he imagines to rule!" Lectures Grignr ?

Mike: Don't ask me, you're the writer!

> "Enough of this!

All: You said it!

>Away with the slut

Crow: A slut? Where?

>before I loose my control!"
> Seeing the peril of his position, Grignr searched for an opening.
>Crushing prudence to the sward,

Mike: I guess now she can't come out to play.

>he plowed into the soldier at his left arm
>taking hold of his sword, and bounding to the dias

Tom: Was it a buenos dias?

>supporting the prince

Mike: That's "the artist formerly known as the prince" to you, buddy.

>before the startled guards could regain their composure. Agafnd leaped
>Grignr and his sire, but found a sword blade permeating the length of his
>ribs

Tom: Why, what's this doing here? And here I spent all last week looking
for it in the garage!

>before he could loosed his weapon.
> The councilor slumped to his knees as Grignr slid his crimsoned blade
>from Agfnd's rib cage.

Crow: He's losing vowels with each passing second!

>The fat prince

Mike: I believe it's the =fresh= prince.

>stood undulating in insurmountable
>fear before the edge of the fiery maned comet,

Tom: Suddenly it's science fiction!

>his flabs of jellied blubber

Tom: Y'know, some jellied blubber and a kipper snack would sure hit the
spot right about now.

>pulsating to and fro in ripples of flowing terror.
> "Where is your wisdom and power now, your magjesty?" Growled Grignr.
> The prince went rigid as Grignr discerned him glazing

Mike: --a vase he'd been making for his ceramics class.

>over his
>shoulder. He swlived to note the cause of the noble's attention,

Mike: Pausing first to take out his memo pad.

>raised
>his sword over his head, and prepared to leash a vicious downward cleft,
>but fell short as the haft of a steel rimed pike clashed against his
>unguarded skull.

Crow: The pike was plaid, his skull was polka-dotted.

>Then blackness and solitude. Silence enshrouding and
>ever peaceful reind supreme.
> "Before me, sirrah! Before me as always! Ha, Ha Ha, Haaaa...", nobly
>cackled.

Tom: Who?
Mike: Does it matter?
Tom: Nah, I guess not. Come on, let's go.

[Commercials]

[Continued in Part 3]