Omaha Project
veng...@vax1.mankato.msus.edu
people in the Omaha Nebraska area for a school related project.
If you live in Omaha or go to school there or know someone
that does and will be around for three months or more, please
reply via E-Mail to Veng...@vax1.mankato.msus.edu.
Thank you very much!
Ryan Krueger
Russ Allbery
> I am trying to build a list of names and E-Mail addresses of
>people in the Omaha Nebraska area for a school related project.
> If you live in Omaha or go to school there or know someone
>that does and will be around for three months or more, please
>reply via E-Mail to Veng...@vax1.mankato.msus.edu.
You know they are broadcasting to almost the entire Net when you see the same
post in both alt.comics.lnh and alt.fan.warlord.
Oh well, we may as well help the guy. Anyone know anyone in Net.braska?
--
Eagle | Windrider of the LNH | Drifter
Russ Allbery | Endari on LegionMUSH | published monthly by
wind...@cs.stanford.edu | Eagle_ on IRC | SubSpace Press
Benjamin R Pierce
Somewhere, under a cornfield in America's heartland, lies a secret installation.
An installation which combines the cutting edge in ultramodern technology with
an atmosphere of rampant paranoia and suspicion. An installation dedicated to
one goal: the mysterious agenda known simply as: the Omaha Project.
Deep in the bowels of the Omaha facility, two scientists strode along a
corridor at a brisk pace, talking in hushed, urgent tones (one of the side
effects of the all-pervasive air of paranoia and suspicion is that everybody
tends to talk in hushed, urgent tones most of the time.)
"What are the latest specs on the project like, Emmerson?"
"As expected, except for a slight irregularity in the power levels. There
seems to be a surge periodically; we can't account for it. It's probably
nothing..."
Dr. Sal Icon whirled on his colleague. "Nothing!? In an operation this delicate,
_NOTHING_ is nothing! The slightest mistake, the slightest irregularity, could
spell disa..."
At that moment, Icon was interrupted by the thunderous roar of a tremendous
explosion, which ripped through the reinforced Ad.net.mantium-laced walls of
the facility like tissue paper. A sharp pain shot through his leg as a computer
console fell, pinning him under it. As he struggled to free himself, he saw
a figure coming towards him through the smoke. "Emmerson! Help me!" The figure
gave no response, and on closer inspection, it didn't look very much like
Emmerson at all. It looked...wrong.
"...Emmerson?"
(Anyone else want in on this? We haven't had a good chaotic shared-storyline
in ages! :)
--MZL (with NEW holographic enhancement
powers!)
Russ Allbery
point 8-) ]
Drifter stops in front of another elaborate ASCII art picture, this
one featuring (yet another) large sword. A post-it note is stuck to the
bottom of the picture, giving the itemized judges' score. The score
includes a substantial penalty for contributing to the world-wide hyphen
shortage.
Drifter chuckles and glances down the long hall. Both walls are
lined with more exhibits; and periodically people appear, add a new
picture, and then disappear again. Most of them attach a little post-it
note with snide comments.
--You're right, a lot of these *are* funny. Good way to spend a few
hours.--
Windrider sends back a mental grin. ==Yeah, I ran across this place
a while back. Still haven't figured out what a VAP is though...==
On a blank space of wall opposite Drifter, a new display appears.
Strangely, however, it isn't delivered by anyone; it just appears out of
nowhere. Even more strangely, it doesn't have any pictures on it.
--Hmm...that's weird...a request for communication conduit addresses.
Must be a mistake.--
Drifter starts to turn away, but something about that exhibit feels
wrong...
--Wait! Windrider, come take a look at this! Do you get the same
feeling that I do?--
Windrider glides down the hall to land on an outstreched arm, and
turns to examine the message.
==You're right. This message is part of a force wave.==
--And it's traveling through the Net, not crossposting...I can track
it.--
Drifter closes his eyes momentarily to concentrate, and then opens
them with a start.
--It's coming from aclnh!--
-=-=-=-=- -=-=-=-=-
In the middle of Net.braska, a shimmering green portal opens. Drifter
steps through and immediately sees the source of the force wave. A nearby
cornfield has been completely obliterated, evidently by some large explosion,
leaving nothing but a deep crater. In the center of the crater is a strange
pattern of black and white, constantly shifting and difficult to look at
directly.
--What do you make of this?--
==That's one of the pockets of scrambled reality created during Master
Workload's attack. I though they would have all dissipated by now.==
--Could someone have contained one and tried to tap into it? Used it
as a source of power, maybe?--
==Yes... And if something went wrong, a force wave like the one we saw
could be the result...==
Windrider circles lower to try to get a better view, and then notices
something else in the bottom of the crater.
==We need to get inside that crater. There's something moving down
there.==
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
v124...@ubvms.cc.buffalo.edu (Benjamin R Pierce) writes:
>
>(Anyone else want in on this? We haven't had a good chaotic shared-storyline
>in ages! :)
I'm in! If you have any ideas already set up, drop me a line via e-mail
(and I hope I didn't mess any of them up).
CHRISTOPHER J. SYPAL
Gelatin hated transmatting. They never seemed to work right for him.
Gel had heard that something big was happening in Net.braska. He knew
that some people had already left to investigate, but he decided that if he
volunteered the R-Men, it might improve relations with the LNH.
Random Man was busy working on a new RAM (R-Men Automotive Machine),
and couldn't join, leaving Vari and Gelatin. Gelatin didn't like going out
without the complete team, but they need the RAM. The two entered the
transmat machine, preparing to land in an open field, but didn't expect to
land in the middle of...
"A jungle?!" Vari looked around and saw giant trees tower around her.
The calls of various animals surrounded the two. "Are you shure it was set
for Net.braska, not Net.geria?"
Gel gave her a quick look that answered the question. "Let's take a
look around before we jump to too many conclusions." Gel's words were
partially drowned by the thunder of the nearby waterfall.
The two walked along a path, gawking at the sights and sounds around
them, when they noticed a wall. "Let's see what if we can find some answers
inside." They entered a corridor, and walked along until they reached a
door that they thought would take them inside, but actually took them
outside.
"Wha?" Vari exclaimed, "That jungle was *inside*?"
"Yep," a person nearby answered. "Largest indoor jungle in the world."
As the two stared at the immense building they heard a growling behind
them.
"Panta?" Vari spun around, expecting to find the Legion member, but
didn't see anyone.
"Oh yes," the stranger replied, "there are lions, tigers, and leopards
along with the panthers. It's the largest cat complex in Net.America."
The two then finally realized that they were in a zoo. They decided
that since they were nowhere near where they though they were supposed to
be, they should find out more about where they were. After wandering around
a bit, and enjoying the zoo they left the left it, only to hear a large
crowd from atop a nearby hill. They climbed the hill, and were again amazed
at the sight. A large outdoor baseball stadium, overflowing with people.
"A baseball game?" Gel inquired to Vari.
"It's not just a baseball game," another stranger who was near
answered, "it's the College World Series. Baseball at it's finest. An
outdoor staidum, with a real grass field. A packed crowd. No alcohol.
Everything is perfect, except for one thing."
"What's that," Vari inquired as she looked over the stadium.
<PING>
"Aluminum bats." The stranger replied.
The two continued their quest, exploring the newfound city. A trolly
come near them, and they flagged it down. They learned a little on their
ride. For instance, the trolly happened to be named Ollie.
The trolly took them into the heart of the city. Large buildings
towered around them. While not as large a Net.ropolis', they were still
big. The couple got off in an area where there were no buildings. A stream
ran down through the middle of the city. Geese gently swam in the water, as
couples sat in the grass. Businessmen walked along the path taking in the
fresh air. The two walked along the path marveling in it's beauty until
they came up on a small lake. In the center of the lake sat a large
fountian that shot water up at an incredible height, while smaller fountains
were around it.
Across a nearby street, they noticed many people entering and exiting a
different street. As they walked towards the area, they noticed that the
road changed from cement to brick, and the amount of traffic dropped. The
sidewalks and streets thrived with people. The atmosphere changed, and a
feeling of peace swept over the two. Performers dotted the street.
Musicians played, jugglers juggled, and magicians did their magic. A wide
variety of shops lined the street, selling anything and everything.
The two continued walking along the streets, and came upon a building
that people flocked into. A giant marquee proclaimed the place as "The
Orpheum" After looking at what was playing, Gel turned to Vari and
inquired, "May I tempt you to an evening with Gilbert & Sullivan?"
"Why, Gel," Vari responded, "you know how much I like pirates." And
took his arm, as the two entered the theater, commenting on the days events.
"That aviary was huge. And all those different birds they had."
"That reminds me, I wondered what happened to the other people who
were to find out what the problem was..."
---
[] o [] The |) - MEN #0 [] Brought to you by:
() __o /V\ o o () |\ ()
{} G> |> <R> \/E\/ {} All this week at {} -Chris Sypal-
<> /< >> / > <> alt.comics.lnh <> csy...@cwis.unomaha.edu
K M Wilcox
Figures that one of you Omahans would turn this into a travel brochure.
Like everybody else on the net needs to hear about Henry Doorly Zoo and the
Old Market (You know Nebraska's a sad state when the Old Market is its top
tourist attraction.). Next you'll have them go shopping at the Westroads.
Okay, so I put the Mall of the Bluffs in a story, but that's different.
Council Bluffs is at least on the correct side of the Missouri.
ISH.
Actually, if I weren't behind on A&FS 5 and going home tomorrow (for a week
of forced exile from the net), I'd join the thread.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
/ K. M. Wilcox/ "Evacuate? In our moment of triumph? \Mister Boddy \
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* I think you overestimate their chances!" *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
\ ---The Imperial Navy: Distinction and Honor--- /
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Council Bluffs: It isn't the end of the world, but you can see it from
there.
A POET & A ONE-MAN BAND
> in ages! :)
Off the top of my head...
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," I said. "One week for
spring break, bright beautiful beaches all over South Florida busting with
buxom bikini-briefed bubbling babes, and I'm out here with you in Net.braska
up to my knees in topsoil in some stupid cornfield...If you weren't paying me
overtime for this, Prof, I'd have to up and tell you that you were crazy."
"You have told me that I'm crazy."
"Well, yes, but you are paying me overtime." Which I needed. And the
truth was that for all its lack of urban sophistication, surging humanity, and
cable TV, the little field in Net.braska the Prof had rented was probably the
most strikingly beautiful place I had ever been. The soft watermelon glow of
the sun dissolving over the horizon...the storms I watched raging miles away,
lightning tearing through the midwestern skies like an angry child...the deep,
thick smell of earth and of spring and living things had softened my city boy's
heart to the point where I could almost accept what the Prof was doing. Which
was when I began to check myself for psychological trauma, because what the
Prof was doing was stupid.
"Lite, you would understand...you would *have* to understand...if you'd
only heard the voice..."
"What voice? The only voice I've heard beside yours in the past two
weeks has been the little one inside my head saying, 'He's lost his mind!' I
actually caught myself wondering the other night if the Slobbering Grue needs a
sidekick."
"The voice, Lite. The one that said...'If you build it, he will come."
"WHAT?!" I dropped my shovel. "WHO will come? And why does this
person need you to build a Peril Room in the middle of a cornfield to put in a
guest appearance? Couldn't you just book him a room at the Om.net and send him
free champagne, like McLaughlin Man does when he wants to get Julia Roberts or
Gorbachev on the show? I mean, a cornfield? Are you introducing me to the
Incredible Crow-Man, or what's the..."
"Lite!" The Prof dropped his own scythe and grabbed my arm, which I
found unnerving. "He's here! He's here!"
"What...who's here? If this is some idiotic baseball fantasy of yours
I've been helping to fulfill, you can forget it. You'd think the example of
Michael Jordan would've convinced most people to give up on the idea."
Before I'd finished speaking, I saw it. A figure, about my height,
shimmering and then coalescing into solid form, striding across the field. He
was caped, masked, muscled and young, but no one I'd ever seen before. I
opened my mouth to speak but he moved forward with such urgency I gathered he
had something important on his mind and it would be best to let him tell it.
"Thank you," he said. "Thank you for allowing me to come here, for
giving me one last chance to save Net.braska--and possibly the Looniverse--from
the chaos it might still collapse into unless we act immediately."
"The pleasure is ours," the Prof said. "It is indeed an honor to
finally meet you."
"Hold on," I said. "Don't you think you should..."
"I'm sorry," the Prof said. "This is my faithful and well-paid
partner against the ravages of injustice, Easily-Discovered Man Lite. Lite,
this gentleman is the hero of my youth, the hero of many youths, the hero,
once, when the world was a place vastly different from the burgeoning
meglapolis it has now rendered itself into..."
"Please," said the figure, "no need for introductions. Nice to meet
you, Lite. I'm Boy Lad."
TO BE CONTINUED...?
(The preceding takes place somewhere in continuity removed from the
events currently tripping along in "The Adventures of Easily-Discovered Man"
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
John M. Scheibeler
Omaha-Council Bluffs area!
uplink
P.S. if Omaha is the boondocks, CB is DEFINITELY the boonies...
--
END OF LINE. -- upl...@unomaha.edu | "We are Homer of Borg. Prepare to
"We Are GURPS. Resistance is Futile.| be assimi -- ooo, donuts."
You will be Assimilated into a | "We are Bart of Borg. Assimilate
Worldbook." - The people at SJ Games | my shorts, man."
David R. Henry
--the Uncensored Nietzche, Phil Press
There was a gas station at the crossroads, and the car was pullling up into
it when Fading Dan lowered his binoculars and motioned to the scarecrow.
The scarecrow nodded in the wind. Dan liked working with agreeable partners.
The long sun left deep pools of shadow between the hills. The car was a
Pinto, and the pumps still had glass balls on top of the bodies, rotating
slowly to say "Nesso".
Dan walked right up to the screen door and let himself in. The sum total
of people who willingly drive Pintos that one has to worry about could
maybe be expressed as a rational number if you had a decent imagination
and a few hours to kill on a large processor. There was nothing to fear
here.
"C'n I help ya?" The man looked like a walking BurmaShave ad: old, rustic,
and fuzzy in a red sort of way.
"I'd like a Coke, please."
The other person in the station had some sort of white suit on, the pockets
of which he was quickly stuffing full of small lollypops.
"Sorry. Would ya like a Pepsi, instead?"
"No. I'd like a Coke, please."
The other man let out a little whinny, like a mosquito on speed. There sure
seemed to be a lot of lollypops in his coat.
"Sorry, stranger. Just got a load of Pepsi here."
Dan nodded, and adjusted his racing cap. "And, what if I tell you that
I'd really prefer a Coke?"
The storekeeper leaned forward. Dan hoped the shotgun he saw dangling from
one hand was just a hallucination. "Then I'd say you came to the wrong
damn place, stranger."
The third man, sensing that he may soon become not only unneccesary to this
conversation but largely in its way, took this moment to grab a few more
lollypops and sprinted out of the store. The bells above the door tolled
out a random off-tune ditty.
"Some of us can get Coke whenever we want to." Dan stared the man right
in the eyes. His bolo tie didn't even twitch.
"What do you think this is, goddamned America?" The shopkeeper leaned
closer.
"Sure do. Where I can walk into any establishment across this great land
of ours, and _know_ that I can get that refreshing taste. And a smile."
The last thing apparently on any face in the area was a smile. It felt
like a Clint Eastwood convention, with more stubble.
"Some of us don't live in goddamn Coke machines." There was the sound of
a shotgun making up its mind.
Fading Dan broke out into a smile. "John Roe, how are you!" And then
they hugged.
*****
The Book of Phil is important in a number of religions, most of which have
died out when the followers come across the reference in Huul, Chapter 4,
Verses 6-10:
"The great dragon Tretchoz has so far been the only one known to reach the
Signposts. What he saw there, and what possibly could be minding the Door,
has been sealed in the Greenverse, and left to the passing of time to know.
This much he did tell, though, while having tea at the lair of Xaddik; that
if you want to see a true religion, you should first kill all the priests
who serve it. Religions which can survive this act are either of True
Origin, or else not worth worrying about. He also brought back some new lamb
recipies which made him the hit of his cragh for some time."
Thus spake the Book the Phil.
Being the only holy book which includes instructions to kill any priests who
use it often leaves the Book of Phil in the same company with theologists as
How to See the Falklands on a Dollar A Day leaves travel agents. Sure, it's
interesting, but once you've got it, what do you do with it?
Of course, the Book of Phil is also the only holy book to include complete
instructions on crossstiching your own heraldic banner. It's for reasons
like these that pratical people still read it.
*****
Fading Dan and John Roe sat across from each other, separated by a homemade
table made from driftwood and about sixty years of conflicting principles.
The table was covered with adorable little doilies of checkered print, on
which a tea service had been set out. The principles were just covered with
faulty excuses and a bit of guilt; nothing special, just homemade like anyone
else's.
They were talking like old friends, which they weren't, and acting like
two old companions who hadn't seen each other in years, which they were.
None of them mentioned the large, slip-covered volume propping open the
back door.
"Man oh man. Fading Dan. Still around, huh?" Roe let out a chuckle as he
slipped into his chair.
"Of course." The tea sent spirals of steam up to frame his face. Dan didn't
touch the cup.
"You are one old... yeah, I shoulda figured you'd be around now. Makes
sense."
Dan smiled. "Well, it's not like I had a lot of choice." That was a lie.
Fading Dan always had a choice. He followed the rules, and by doing so
gained all the choices he could ever want.
Roe laughed at the implied joke. "That's straight. Damn straight! How's
my brother doing, anyway? Little Richard?"
Richard Roe was the real name of Never-Heard-of-Before Boy, one of the
Intangible Legion. John had been a member back when Boy Lad was still
around. He still was, actually. The reason he was all the way out here
in Net.braska was because of his powers. He was Haven't-Seen-You-In-A-
Long-Time Lad.
"Okay." That was another lie. "He's trying to foster closer ties to the
main Legion."
"Hell, you've never been one much for politics, Dan." Roe leaned back
and turned on an old stereo. Vacuum tubes hissed and hummed.
"Well, that's for sure."
"Heh. Talkative as ever, ain'tcha?" Roe looked at him hard. The radio
chewed the air for awhile, like clearing its throat, and then tried humming
a tentitive piano tune. "What you doing here, Dan? It can't just be my
power working."
Dan looked at Roe. The best sign of their differences was that he was able
to lie this much to him and not feel a thing about it. He wondered how Roe
thought about that.
The window was suddenly much more interesting to look at. "Listen, John...
have you seen..." Dan waited for the words to come. Nobody applied for the
job. "I'm looking for a door."
Roe let out a low whistle. "Whew, neighbor. Ain't got none around here."
Dan crossed over to him. "Listen, normally I wouldn't go to you for
information. You know that, you know it's just not right. But I've got
a hint from... a source, and I'm worried about another infestation."
"What do you want me to do about it?" Roe's shotgun lay like a promised
wound on the counter.
"It's not that there's one that I'm worried about. It's that apparently
there's something called the Omaha Project. And if they're right on top..."
"Of all the goddamn things you come here for, you want me to go on a
shade hunt? No way. No goddamn way."
"John, sit down. I said 'if' they're right on top. If there's a door.
If they really are on top of a shadedump. If we can't do what we usually
do..."
Roe smiled. It was a scary thing, like a glacier on speed, but once it
got caught up to the rest of his face nothing could stop the pressure.
"...and get some other people to do our dirty work."
"We're the Intangibles, dammit..."
"...and we know what's good for the rest of you. I'll see what I can do.
Partner."
Dan ignored the dig. He headed out under the bells, confusing the radio
with their contrary ringings.
Fading Dan headed out along the state highway, waiting for a ride to thumb.
Halfway along the curve from the station, he saw a Pinto ditched off the
road, almost toppled over in its momentum. Blood was pooling under the
growing shadows. A meadowlark looked on from the top of a prairie stem.
Plunging halfway through the windshield, its face a gleeful mask of
destruction, the scarecrow had wrapped its hands around the driver's
throat. Lollypops dropped out of his pocket one by one, and rolled
along the ground, leaving a twisting trail of blood behind them.
Dan moved on into the night. Being a superhero meant somebody else had to
actually bother writing the headlines.
He hoped this would all be over quickly.
--
David R. Henry - Rogue Fan Club // IMHOtep: Designer of lame excuses, Esq.
Obessa Cantauit. -- Richard Darwin / What was the question? -- Kate Bush
"All you of Earth are IDIOTS!"-P9fOS // Thanks... for the memories.--Rogue
dhe...@plains.nodak.edu * Evolution: Give it some time, it'll grow on ya.
CHRISTOPHER J. SYPAL
-----PRESS RELEASE-----PRESS RELEASE----PRESS RELEASE-----
S Y P A L C O M I C S
--=---===---=--
A division of
CJS Works
-=--===--=-
An open apology to the readers of alt.comics.lnh.
An unfortunate accident has plagued SYPAL Comics with
the release of a response to the article _Omaha Project_,
specificly article <1994Mar10.0...@news.unomaha.edu>.
SYPAL Comics has recently come upon a lack of funds. To
fill this hole, SYPAL Comics has taken it upon themselves to
do a project for The Greater Omaha Chamber of Commerce to
promote the city of Omaha.
The project was to be the journeys of Variable Woman and
Gelatin, through the city of Omaha. The project was
developed to show the world that the city of Omaha is not a
cornfield, but a vast metropolis with many exciting
activities.
An error in printing of the first issue has caused the
removal of the disclaimer that stated that the story was a
paid advertisement.
For this me must apologize. It was never our intention
to fool the public into thinking that this was a regular
story. We have taken measures to make shure that this will
never happen again.
SYPAL Comics had planned on continuing the adventures of
Variable Woman and Gelatin, taking them to other sites,
rather than the small area described in the first
installment. Due to the response from the first issue, SYPAL
Comics has cancelled the title. We apologize to everyone who
was waiting for more of the story. On the good side, all
time that would have been spent on that title will now be
spent on R-Men #4.
Both CJS Works and SYPAL Comics would like to send their
deepest apology to everyone who was mislead by this event.
We hope this will not hinder your further enjoyment of our
products.
SYPAL Comics would also like this time to promote The
R-Men's Creator/Writer, Chris Sypal, in his supporting role
in the latest installment of the ongoing X-Men RPG/Story _The
X-Men Trilogy - "Progressions Of Power"_. In "Prelude to
Ascension" Part 7: "It's a Small World Afterall", Chris
happens to meet up with Rogue, and astonishes her with his
knowledge about her. Neither SYPAL Comics, nor CJS Works
took any part in the creation of this story. We do, however,
feel that fans of Mr. Sypal's writing will enjoy this.
"Prelude to Ascension" Part 7: "It's a Small World Afterall"
can currently be found on rec.arts.comics.xbooks.
-SYPAL Comics-
Since 1988
"Action, Adventure, and Other Stuff."
-----PRESS RELEASE-----PRESS RELEASE----PRESS RELEASE-----
sl...@cc.usu.edu
Phil... Did I detect a hint of the green door in all that?
wReam...
P.S. I love the scarecrow, it was kinda
arthur...@nova.novanet.org
with a million dollars... shoot a bag filled with ten bucks) it's a chaotic
story line...so here goes something....
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Omaha Project #? out of ?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
In a very high skyscraper building (you know the one's that are so
high you have always wonder how much damage would this dime cause if I
dropped it??) somewhere in Net.ropolis, a nervous middle-aged man with a
bow-tie bustles past doors unaware that today his mere self will choose THE
FATE OF THE ENTIRE LOONIVERSE!!! (of course he would have
known that if had known I was writing this story had he known of course he
would probably either have quit or at the very least asked for more money)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
The man had never been in this part of the building before, but
then he also had never been given the duty to send a message to the head
honcho, the big guy, the boss. And now he was a few feet from the door.
For a brief minute he thought about leaving, maybe becoming a super hero
called Nervous Middle-Aged Man Boy... no he thought ...this orgin would
just be to stupid. He would just have to face the wrath of who ever
happened to be in that room. He opened the door.
"Umm ..hello..sir..??"
"Yes?" a voice from a lightless corner in the way back spoke. The
room was very dim, with only a tiny amount of light coming from a few open
cracks in the shades. The room was filled with exotic plants, pictures,
plush carpeting and furniture. It was the kind of room that you wonder
what would happen to you if you had this big pitcher of grape juice and you
...Well anyways in the middle far end of the room stood a giant marble
desk. Sitting at the desk was a silhouetted form.
"Well..uh sir.."
"Hold it right there son...what's that on your tie!!"
The nervous man quickly looked down like the devil himself. There
was nothing unusual about his tie. "Sir, I don't under..."
"Haha GOTCHA!!...haha somethimes my own ingenious even surprises
myself...could Norman Rockefellor have done that son..?? I think not..now
what's that you have to say..??"
"Uh well sir.." the man said still confused.
"No needs for sir son...you can call me by my first name son...
Mister Paprika."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
The NM (nervous man) said, "Sure whatever you say Mister Paprika," he
wasn't about to question his boss with the fact that Mister Paprika is two
names not one. "We just got a disturbing report from Net.braska... about
certain individuals that have started to nose about our operation...
characters that are wearing weird flashy costumes...."
"ELVIS IMPERSONATORS?!??!!"
"Uh..I was talking more on the grounds of LNH'res..."
"Phhewww...you had me scared for a second.."
"Boss..I mean MP (Mister Paprika...god I'm getting lazy)...the
intrusions by these LNH'rs are making our scientist nervous ...some are
already feeling uneasy about messing around with that weird power source tm
...they think you're crazy to use it and think that it should be filled
with dirt..."
"I don't care what they think...people have never understood my
genius...people are Stupid...and that's why people didn't buy New Coke..
because they were Stupid..."
"Uh Boss??", NM said slowly backing towards the door.
"Didn't you know...New Coke was my idea...and because people were
stupid those morons at Coca-Cola company fired me ...when they should have
made me President..those fools ...do you see that picture up there??", he
says pointing towards a picture of a sock with a sort of halo around it.
"That is Wondersock. Probably the most brilliant invention ever invented
and it was mine...and you know what out of the hundred thousand or so that
were manufactured ONLY 10 AND A HALF SOLD!!!"
"Well..uh.." NM said taking out and arming himself with one of his
pencils just in case.
"Of course it was all the advertisers fault on that one...they
bought advertising space on some flea-bitten publication called JONG..those
advertisers got theirs though *evil hysterical laughter* and once my plans
get rolling JONG will get its just deservers too *more ehv (evil hysterical
laughter)*"
"And that is why I need to continue the work with the power source
to create my greatest invention... Ultimate Mister Paprika..."
The NM let out a gasp. "Ultimate Mister Paprika?? Is t-the world
ready for such a thing...??!"
"Maybe not ..but they will be."
"How do you know people will buy it ..I mean sure Mister Paprika is
the leading soft drink...but.."
"There have been taste tests..besides this time I have a plan. A
plan that will not only switch a few more to the great taste (and less
filling of MP), but will convert everyone in the Looniverse!!!"
The NM lets our another gasp. "I finally get it now I never really
understood at first why a soft drink manufacturer would need thousands of
super human trained assassins, ninjas and other mercenaries on the payroll
or enough tanks and military equipment enough to take over a medium sized
nation and placing them all in Net.braska...but now it finally hits me...
He who controls the brand soft drink of a man controls that man...He who
controls the brand soft drink of the universe...Controls the universe..My
god this isn't just some simple product revamp..this is a plot for a
takeover of the Looniverse!!!"
"Haha finally you have caught on...and you will be in a better
position in this new order..than you are now...if you agree full loyalty to
me..."
"This is madness...surely you realize that the cosmic powered and
big time supervillains like Acton Lord, and Master Workload won't stand for
this!!!"
"They are just pawns of the writers..."
"Who?"
"The one's who write the stories...like one of my minions is doing
right now. Writers can be bought off fairly easy and cheaply."
"You own a writer??" the NM said dumbfounded.
"Of course...in fact more than one..several in fact..In fact I
estimate in a couple or so weeks I will have acquired all of the alt.comics
.lnh authors and characters, you see I've had this special place in my
heart for the LNH. You see that comic up there..That si Boy Lad #1...My
...father bought it for me..."
The NM could see a tear glisten out of the old madman's eye. Maybe
...just maybe.
"Did you know that Superman wasn't the very first super hero to
appear in a comic?..ohno that's far from the truth..Boy Lad #1 appeared
months before Action Comics #1..not many people know that because Boy Lad
just wasn't abig seller...a few years later it went bankrupt...I bought all
the issues though and when it stopped...It became my crusade to see it in
print again." His face looked like it was reflecting to a happier more
joyful time...if you can say a silhoutted face can reflect that is. But
his face quickly went to the present, "*Sigh* how foolish I was back then
..now I realize that no one wants to buy a comic filled with cartoonish
like art good guy's battling bad guy's...they want heroes with bulging
muscles and big breasts..they want blood and guts..and more breasts..and
that's why I plan to buy aclnh..I mean have you seen Sing-Along-Lass's
breasts..I mean they aren't even big enough to be considered mountains in
Florida.."
"But she's still a child!!"
"Nevertheless things will have to change when my increible genius
takes over aclnh.."
"You fool..you still don't get it...Haven't you read any LNH titles
lately...there is constant reference to Mister Paprika..LNH'rs across the
country now as we speak are chuggin a Mister Paprika ...*EHV*"
"Why are you telling me all this..your whole plan and stuff..??"
"Oh I'm just suffering from that James Bond villain disease I guess
...anyways this has been a nice chat..now move along..I need to make a
phone call and I have a lot of ranting and raving to catch up on..Hopefully
I have convinced you of my cause..."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
The NM was glad to get out of that room. He was confused. He
wanted to just go home, chug a Mister Paprika, and forget the whole episode
happened. But no he couldn't just lie back he was now right in the middle
of a story that had the potential to be an incredibly long and rather
painful cross-over entrenched epic. No he couldn't let something like that
happen again..he had to go back in there, repeatedly stab his boss with a
pencil and end this story right now. But some mystical force led him to
the phone in the hallway. "No...I shouldn't do this...but I have to..Hello
", he said after he dialed, "Is this the LNHHQ, it is..good I need to speak
to someone..this is an emergency..." The NM life however is cut short as a
giant piano flattens him to the ground (Yeah I know it's a cliched death).
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Net.braska - The land of corn
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Nearby a cornfield two lookouts each wearing the Mister Paprika
emblem on their uniforms spy on a man and an eagle who are near the crater.
One of them takes out a radio device that appears to be trying to reach
him.
"Look-out post 1 do you read??"
"Are you saying I'm illit...oh yeah I do..sorry."
"Are the intruders still there??"
"Yep"
"MP wishes them dead...Do it quickly..over."
"This isn't exactly witty dialouge now is it...nevermind..they're
toast..over and out."
"Get your gun loaded Max those interlopers over yonder have just
become in season."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
A few miles away in, you guesses it, another cornfield three men
stand next to a Peril Room in the middle of a corn field. One of them a
man who hasn't been seen since the early 40's.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
As Gel is leaving the theater with Vari he notices the Mister Paprika
billboard is being modified by diligent painters. The slogan that used to
read "Now, that's a carbon-based life form's pop!" has been changed to "Now
,that's a carbon-based life form's Ulitmate pop!"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
The stage is set ...let the chaos begin....
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Arthur Spitzer
(I'm not only the President of The Slobbering Grue! Fan Club, I'm also the
only member...)
Stephane Savoie
(No offense, Dave.)
--kid anarky... can't wait for the Trade Etherback, since I've
only gotten a few off the OP posts, and not even in proper order...
---
kid / * Ste'phane Savoie Acadia U, Nova Scotia, Canada
____/_| * a.k.a. KID ANARKY <<003...@dragon.acadiau.ca>>
/ / | \ * of the Net.Patrol, part of the Legion of Net.Heroes!!
___|_/_____|__|___ *-----------Tune in - Turn On - Drop Dead----------------
/ | | * 101 Uses for a Dead Computer -- (part3: Disk Drives)
/ \______|_/ * #56: Piggy banks. Just stick coins into the disk slot.
/ |narky * #57: Designer tissue dispenser for the batroom.