posted
This may be the time and place to say a few words about Pagan Lass and her constant companion, Stoopid Cat, or it may not be but I’m going to anyway.
quote: The definitive description of Pagan Lass comes from Mort Weisinger’s Private Diaries (note: this is the M.W. who wrote about half of the Penthouse Letters, not that other guy) "A daughter of the Ancient Druids... Versed in Whole Earth Magick... Tall, Red-Headed, Stacked and distains clothing in any form with the exception of a few well placed sprigs of mistletoe..."
Well, needless to say, Pagan Lass is the type of Super Heroine who leaves a lasting impression wherever she goes. She also is known to leave with large quantities of one dollar bills tucked under her sprigs of mistletoe, but that’s another story.
But, any discussion of Pagan Lass’s career as a super heroine must start and end with her association with Stoopid Cat. Before she met Stoopid Cat she was quite content with her established career as a barmaid in obscure Irish Pubs, and some part time dancing in Soho. After meeting Stoopid Cat…
Stoopid Cat is the single most powerful super pet ever. Stoopid Cat can do anything. Because Stoopid Cat is too goddamm dumb to know that he can’t do whatever it was he just did.
Stoopid Cat is really just an ordinary house cat that refuses to believe he’s just an ordinary house cat because he’s too stupid to understand that ordinary house cats do not whip Pit Bull’s asses, do not terrorize Doberman Pinschers, do not single handedly and all by themselves shred an entire 20’ by 20’ living room rug in a single day, and most importantly do not hang upside down from spiral staircases waiting for unsuspecting house guests to wander underneath so that he can pounce on their heads and…
Okay, gotta calm down now…
For those of you who are familiar with 1960’s counterculture comics, I’m sure you remember Fat Freddie’s Cat. Well Stoopid Cat could easily whip that wimps ass. Blok the rock? Instant Rocky Pebbles, forget the milk. Rody the Super Rat?
Well. That’s what the next story post is all about…
[ December 08, 2003, 09:29 AM: Message edited by: Space Ranger ]
-------------------- Truth and Justice shall Prevail! (Just as soon as the Check Clears!)
From: The Back Office in Abin's Fixit Shop. | Registered: Sep 2003
| IP: Logged |
quote: “Look I understand about the pointy ears and stuff, but nobody can put their ankles there and still smile like that!”
Oops, sorry about that. But it’s such an amazing scene. I’ve watched it seven times and I still can’t believe that she can really do that. There’s got to be some trick photography involved.
Okay, back to the story, (I think).
And the Ouija board said, “Pluto has left it’s orbit and is moving into the interior of the solar system. It wants to take advantage of a free Disney World vacation it received in a telemarketing promotion. Because it’s just too gosh darn cold way out there, or something like that.”
Unfortunately, nobody was listening, because the sudden appearance of Pagan Lass and Stoopid Cat had somehow completely altered the dynamic of this entire story.
So instead of Super Duper Marvelous Man and Jessica Quickly sitting with the Ouija Board on their laps, their knees touching, their eyes locked lovingly on each other, their breath quickening, (and Spectacular Aqua Lungs lass getting ready to heave in her tank watching them) – while the Green Latrine’s painted on eyes fog over from the sheer soap opera quality of the scene, while Duck Bloggers of the cartoon universe and the Cloned Green Pig talked to Dusty and Rody.
Instead we find the Ouija Board on the floor, being totally ignored as it chatters away about the approaching danger of the planet Pluto wanting to vacation at Disney World.
Super Duper Marvelous Man, Dusty, Duck Bloggers, and the Green Latrine seated around a table drinking beers and watching Pagan Lass dance. Well, actually SDMM, Dusty, and Duck are drinking, right now, the Latrine will receive his later in a recycled form.
Jessica Quickly and SALLy are off in a corner, slowly turning green and discussing the fickle foibles of men in general and commenting on the obvious inadequacies of one particular female.
But away from all of that, a life and death drama is being played out, or if Stoopid Cat has his way, played with.
quote:
Originally posted by Trixie the extremely flexible Pixie.
Ummmm… *gum snap* Like this is like, Trixie, the extremely flexible Pixie speakin’ atcha. Like, everybody knows *gum snap* pigs and rats and cats don’t like *gum snap* talk human speech and stuff. *gum snap* but to make the hack writer’s job easier *gum snap* like we’re gonna all pretend they do. *gum snap* Okay? *gum snap* Like everybody had to believe real hard in fairies in that Disney movie? *gum snap* Okay? You just gotta believe that pigs and rats and cats really can talk! *gum snap* (and I gotta go see how my new video is sellin’)
Stoopid Cat’s tail began to twitch when his mistress carried him into JSMBP HQ. One whiff of the room’s air told him that the hunt was on. In other words, he immediately smelled a rat, specifically, Rody the Super Rat.
Now, quite unlike Stoopid Cat, Rody hasn’t survived as long as he has, by being stupid. The sight of Pagan Lass carrying a very large, and obviously very stupid, feline carnivore into the room triggered two basic rat survival tendencies. The first was the time to get the fuck out of here tendency, which immediately carried Rody to the smallest crevice in the room. The second was the call your toughest friend for help tendency. Unfortunately that second tendency was a total wash because his toughest friend, namely Blok the Rock, was a couple of centuries away (or was he? Perhaps time will tell).
One little known fact did work in Rody’s favor. The little known fact that animals (i.e. pigs and rats) which tend to be considered Lunch Prospects by other animals (i.e. humans, humanoid ducks, and cats) will tend to rally to each other’s defense.
Therefore, Thereby, and Forthwith, (specific language inserted in homage of a certain missing divorce lawyer, even though I have no idea what the hell any of it means) Stoopid Cat’s initial charge at Rody was blocked by Cloned Green Pig.
Now, as I stated earlier, pigs are very smart. (And if you didn’t read that story segment, just take my word for it, unless you want me to stick another phony quote box into this story.) So CGP used his Power Ringworm, which is located just under his tail but slightly above his arsehole, to generate a green energy wall between Stoopid Cat and his intended prey, Rody.
“Hold it right there, cat.”
‘What the fuck?”
“Whew, thanks CGP!”
“I’m as moist as a snackcake down there. ” (Umm… Oops, just ignore that one.)
Now the sight of green energy flashing out of a green pig’s ass and placing objects in one’s path, just might give some people (or cats) the idea that maybe they should stop and figure out what’s going on. Unfortunately, Stoopid Cat is not one of them. He had an idea once. He killed it and ate it. Then coughed it up as a hairball and promptly forgot about it. So, the only effect that the green energy wall had on him was to change the direction of his wild charge.
“Okay, pig, if I can’t get the rat, then you is lunch.” (note: he don’t talk too good neither)
As noted CGP is considerably smarter than SC so a second later we find SC floating around the room encased in a ball of green energy, which of course, finally gets the attention of the humans in the room.
Well, it gets SALLy’s attention anyway, nothing is likely to get the guys attention unless one of them runs out of dollar bills, and JC is now running beer for them…
[ December 08, 2003, 11:05 AM: Message edited by: Space Ranger ]
-------------------- Truth and Justice shall Prevail! (Just as soon as the Check Clears!)
From: The Back Office in Abin's Fixit Shop. | Registered: Sep 2003
| IP: Logged |
posted
“Okay, how about we head back to Aberdeen first, Numfy,” suggested Harbi, her fit of the heebie-jeebies having subsided somewhat. “Why would we want to do that? I thought you pathologically hated the place,” asked Numf rather reasonably. And stepping back slowly to take himself out of her reach, incase she went mental once more. “Yeah, I know, but it’s the only place to get a decent rowie.” “Fair point indeed, lets go.” The pair took to the skies, once more utilising their “free in a cheap luckybag” Legion Flight Ring. During times of non-flight, both Harbi and Numf turned the L into the palms of their hands – I mean, what kind of a twat would wear something that tacky! Came in very handy as a knuckleduster though.
“Whilst we’re heading home, Harbi, I must apologise for those emoticons that I used earlier – they really weren’t very good.” “The smilies. No they weren’t very good. What happened there, Numf?” “Well, they looked much better using a different font, and anyway, there were limitations when copying across to Legionworld into the storyline.” “What kind of problems?” “Well,” continued Numf, “for some reasons you can’t use brackets.” “Parenthesis?” “I once wrote a thesis about my parents…..” “Why do I feel I was set up for that one?”
posted
Harbi and Numf dropped down slowly to earth. Union Street was deserted. Tumbleweed drifted along the street, intertwined with the week old McDonalds wrappers. “Hey, Harbi, this could give you some more inspiration for that story of yours, couldn’t it. You could do a cowboys and indians bit.” “Fuck off, Ken.” “Oh, okay. So, what are we going to do? I know they always reckoned that Aberdeen would turn into a ghost town when the oil ran out, but I didn’t think it had run out yet. Hey, did you not say that you knew Aberdeens very own “Hero In Residence”?” “No. And let me re-iterate that – Fucking No!” reiterated Harbi. “What’s the matter, does he hanker after getting his mitts on your tits or something? What was his name again? It was like something out of Rainbow, wasn’t it. Ronnie James Dio? No, I remember – Zippy. That was it, wasn’t it?” a tri-numf-ant (boo, hiss, terrible pun!) Numf asked, convinced of his accuracy. “What was his Superability again – it was something really amazing.” “Well, due to an accident during puberty when a radioactive spider bit his cock, whilst he was pulling up his zipper, causing his hand to slip, he has the ability to piss flame – in stereo.” “Just what we need on our quest! So, why is it that you sound sad about it? What is it to you?” “I don’t know. I’ve known him a long time, since university, and I reckon that he may well have fancied me. However, with as many stitches as John Wayne Bobbit, he’s had a hard time making any friends, especially of the female variety, and I don’t want him to get all clingy on me. It kind of turned into a Quasimodo / Esmerelda situation,” explained Harbi. “And you were..?” Numf wasn’t quick enough, and was left with a minor case of tinnitus in his left ear for his “fucking cheek”.
posted
“Harbi, take a look along Union Street and tell me what you see,” ordered Numf, with enough authority in his voice for our heroine to instantly obey, rather than questioning. “Um, a great fuckin’ sand storm. Why?” “Try again. I could have sworn that I saw a figure. A tall figure, dressed from head to toe in black. Long black coat, like Spikes. Hat, face obscured. Menacing. Like something out of High Noon, or Tombstone or something. And then that piggin’ storm just picked up. ” “Nope. Nothing there. Maybe the cowboy setting’s getting to you.” “Maybe – maybe I imagined it. Creepy. Let’s get out of here and find out what’s happened to the place.”
“Look at this newspaper headline, Numfster,” said Harbi, pointing at a flyer outside a closed newsagents.
ROWIE MYSTERY THEFTS INCREASE ZIPPY CONFUSED
“Going to have to break in and get a copy of the local paper, I suppose,” said Numfy. “Just make sure there’s no CCTVs about.” Kick. Break. Swing open. Walk in. Pick up newspaper. Read.
Our Resident Superhero , Zippy, admitted last night that he had “Nae fuckin idea” as to who was behind the ongoing theft of our citys rowies. For almost two full weeks now, every rowie produced by Aitkens or Thains has mysteriously vanished, leaving room for the city to be flooded with imported, low quality rowies. Thankfully Grampian Police’s vigilance paid off today when they managed to turn back a lorry load of Glaswegian butteries. Their spokesman is reported to have said “We’re nae needin’ ony a that pish here.” A sentiment we can all agree with. Our City Fathers have called for an all out citywide strike in an attempt to flush out the culprits.
Underneath was photograph of the the citys resident superhero, baring the legend “Zippy – sponsored by www.asbestosundies.com.”
“Well there we go then – and here was me thinking the place was deserted because it was a flag day,” said Harbi. “What does it say under your thumb, Harbi?” asked Numf, looking over her shoulder and actually reading the newspaper for a change.
It has been rumoured that Aitkens is to continue its production in an attempt to manipulate the prices and make a fortune.
“Right then – Aitkens bakery here we come,” said Harbi, and our heroes strode forth manfully (and womanfully as well – not wanting to sound sexist).
posted
LOCAL BUSINESSES – MOST ESPECIALLY COMIC SHOPS
Here’s your chance !!!!
Numf & Harbi are going to be wandering around YOUR city.
Now’s the time to get some cheap advertising done. (Aitkens / Thains – you’re both due me a small van full of rowies as it is, so I’d better get them soon, or I’ll start rubbishing them.)
To get your establishment mentioned in this continuing story, all you have to do is offer me lots of goodies. The biggest offer gets your establishment mentioned. Small, derogatory offers may also get establishments mentioned - but in a small, derogatory fashion.
Cheaper than Northsound Radio!! Watched by more people than North Tonight!! (Maybe.) Read all over the world!!!!!
posted
Striding purposefully through the Adelphi, past a nameless comic shop and along Schoolhill, past another nameless comic shop, our heroes passed yet another nameless comic shop on Rosemount Viaduct – all of whom shall remain nameless, though for a few free annual comic subscriptions they could have been mentioned by name.
posted
Knock, Knock. “Fuck off and leave us alone, you’re not getting our fucking rowies!” came the voice from within. “Listen up, we’re here to help you. My name’s Numf-El, and I’m here with my good friend Harbinger….” “Isn’t she the one with that web site..” “Yes, I believe she is. Great jugs!” came the whispered testosterone fuelled conversation from inside. “What would she be doing here?” KNOCK, KNOCK. SMASH TINKLE. Harbi pops her head in through the broken doorframe. “Oops, sorry about that, boys,” she stated, eyes wide, index finger at her bottom lip, girly grin, in a pose stolen from Goldie Hawn. “Can we come in?” Harbi changed pose, standing now in the doorway, presenting the classic super-heroine pose - majestic, feet apart (see, I didn’t say legs, ‘cos that could have been mis-construed), shoulders firm, fists on hips, sun gleaming through her golden hair, silhouetted through the floury atmosphere. “No, bugger off,” said the two bakers quaveringly, retreating slowly. “Terribly sorry for the broken door, but you can take it out of the advertising fees that you’re owe Numf. Anyway, guys, which one of you is the Masterbat……sorry, Master Baker?” asked Harbi, showing her Don’t –even-think-about-messing-with-me persona. She’s particularly good at that one. Our two bakers stood, backs against the counter, nowhere to go. They both looked ready to bestow the privilege of rank on the other. Numfy followed close behind. “Now then gents, listen up. We’ve been away for a long time, travelled a long way, saved the Universe and this particular reality on a number of occasions. All we want is a couple of Aitkens rowies. Is that really too much to ask? And after having dissuade the rabble outside from, um, rabbling, as well,” Numf said in his most calming of voices. “Come on now gents, a couple of rowies each, one broken door and we’ll forget about the advertising fees, okay? So, where’s this stash that we heard about?”
posted
Feet up on the table, chairs leaning back, Harbi and Numf scoffed eagerly upon their respective rowies. “You know something Numf, I would never have dreamed of combining cheddar cheese and peanut butter. Soooperb.” “Gotta hand it to you Harbi, banana & salt and vinegar crisps really packs a punch. Hey, Harbi, banana – Harbi Goes Bananas. I’m sure that we could get Disney to make a film of that.” “Sod off Numfy, knowing my luck it would be PRIVATE that would want to make a film with that title!”
-------------------- "Tempus Fugitive" the final part of the Adventures of Dream Boy series, set in the Three-Boot Universe. Read it only in the Bits o' Legionnaire Business Forum.
From: here, more often than not | Registered: Sep 2003
| IP: Logged |
Eddie Tor sits at his desk with a huge smile on his face as he reads the latest installments in the adventures of the LMBP... For once all seems right with the universe... But! As we all know, that situation just cannot last for more than a few miliseconds.
<Ring... Ring...> Eddie looks at the phone as if it's purpose is completely unknown to him. (It is, but that's another story.) He reaches out hesitatingly while thinking, "Watt da fug is dis gaget, an whyzit makin so much damm raket?"
Experimentally he lifts the receiver and looks at it. A voice seems to come from somewhere near it, "Hello, Eddie are you there?"
A quick look around the room reveals that he is in fact alone, just as he thought. He stares at the handset in amazement. "I tought dis was one o' Trixie's toys dat she fergot an lef' on my desk after alla dat crap happen las' week." He said aloud.
"Eddie, Goddammit... Put the friggen phone up to your ear, you moron!"
In all of the known universe there exists exactly one entity who has the nerve to talk to Eddie in that manner. Eddie's hands begin to shake. Sweat breaks out on his brow, and he sits up straighter in his chair. Still staring at the phone handset, only now with an expression on his face that clearly indicates his fear that somewhere on it is a mouth full of very sharp teeth ready to bite, he raises the handset to his ear. Totally by accident he manages to get it in approximately the right position.
"Okay, I gots it nexter my ear, now wot?"
"Eddie, do you know who this is?"
"Watt?"
<semi impatient sigh> "Eddie, I'm asking if you realize to whom you are speaking?"
"I tink so, buts I nebber knew dat, like, sex type toys cud, like, talk."
"SEX TOYS? Eddie what are you blathering about? Wait! Never mind... I don't want to know. Eddie this is Phineas B. Fuddle, your Publisher. You remember me don't you... I'm the guy who signs your check!"
Eddie is now staring at the phone receiver with a totally confused expression on his face. He turns it over slowly examining it from every possible angle. Finally he puts it back up to his ear.
"Umm... Sorry Boss... Buts, like, ya jes' don't look like yerself t'day..."
"What are you talking about, Eddie? You can't see me. I'm in my office."
"Umm... I hates ta break dis to ya Boss, buts, yer rite here in, like, my hand. Dat's how I'm speakin atcha. I Tink."
"Eddie you stupid friggen moron, that's a goddamm telephone in your hand. You remember telephones don't you?"
"Dis is a phone?" Eddie quickly reaches into his desk drawer and pulls out a dusty, battered Omnicom. He places the two devices side by side on the desk in front of him and stares alternately at both of them, shaking his head slowly. Then picks the phone back up.
"Okays, I gess yer rite. But whyja use dis? Nobody, like, nobody uses deese anymore."
"Eddie, Eddie, I sent you a memo last year when I sent you the phone. Ahh, Forget it Eddie... Look the important thing is... What the hell is this contract you sent me?"
"Watt Contract?"
* Quaaludius Interruptus *
-------------------- Just an Old, Broke-Down, Drunk, Bum!!
With a Power Ring...
From: Westerly Rhode Island | Registered: Aug 2003
| IP: Logged |
“Eddie, there’s a goddamm contract sitting on my desk for Roger Moore and Samantha Fox to write exclusively for US in the Ongoing Story. It contains exclusive first release and serial rights for North America and Europe. It is valid for Internet, Books and Video publishing. The question is why is it on my desk instead of at our lawyer’s (Quislet.Esq, Reep & Wanders) offices? Do you realize that PRIVATE has the NUMBER ONE selling video in the WORLD right now and three of the four stars in that video are under contract to US?”
“Huh, I dint tink we did dat kinda stuff… an’ who’s da turd one? We don’t gots no contact fer Dolly da Sheep, does WE?”
“Eddie, the third one is that oversexed bimbette you call a secretary. She’s been under an exclusive rights contract for centuries, ever since you signed her away from Disney after the Pinocchio incident. You remember that don’t you?”
“Ya means when dey catched her sittin on his face yellin ‘Tell Anodder Lie, you won’erful bastert you’?”
“So you do remember.”
“Umm… Deres a small poblim dere boss, ya see after da udder day wen she sat on my desk an’ got it all sticky wit wot ever it was… I kina Canned her…”
“Eddie, I don’t care what kind of sex you had with her… She’s under contract and… Wait a Damm Minute… Canned her… You mean you FIRED Her!!”
“Uhh… Ya.”
“Well, UNFIRE Her! Get her back!”
“Umm… Dat’s gonner be a bit tuff. She like stormed outta here all Pissed off, like, an’ said She was gonna go somwheres where dey wood appreciates her talents, like.”
“Well, I don’t care where she went… Get Her Back!” <SLAM>
Eddie stares at the now dead phone for a few seconds as he ponders some possible solutions to his latest problem. “Wotta Revoltin’ Development Dis Is,” He mutters to himself as he looks through a listing of plot devices for regaining the services of a suddenly valuable discharged employee.
Suddenly, inspiration strikes him. He hits the intercom buzzer on his desk.
“Dierdre, Drag yer ass in here…”
The door to his office opens and his new secretary enters. She is a stunningly beautiful woman in her mid thirties, and she is Extremely Pregnant.
“Oh Shit, like, Not Again… You wasn’t Preggo a few minits ago… Watt da fug happen?”
She simply shrugs and sits on the edge of Eddie’s desk. A small lightbulb (about 25w) goes on in Eddie’s head. “Dierdre, are ya wearin’ unnerwear?”
“Nae, Eddiekins, I allas takes’m orf fore cumin in.”
“Well, Dat’s gonner be a hellofa Patrinitry suite.” Eddie thinks as he quickly revises his plan for luring Trixie back into the fold.
“Who, Bisides yerself, does we hav’ dat can go ta Aberdeen an’ git Trixie ta come back here?”
“Waddya wan teit Beitch bake fer?”
“Look, Ms. Harlow, Dis is how it woiks, I makes da decisierons, you does wot it takes ta make dem happins. Okay? I gots no choices, da big guy wants her back, so we gets her back. Now who do we gots over dere?”
“After ya calls dat guy in Aberdeen, git aholta dat Cobalt character an tells him his check ain’t gonna be cut till he starts wittin again.” * Ending of Semi-Quaalude * ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-------------------- Just an Old, Broke-Down, Drunk, Bum!!
With a Power Ring...
From: Westerly Rhode Island | Registered: Aug 2003
| IP: Logged |
posted
At Legion World, there was cause for celebration! The Time Mouse Trapper had been defeated in a way that made his return impossible, although Poverty Lad reminded everyone "Dead? He'll get better". The menaces of Whordru, Illyiana Highlander, Climactus, and others had been defeated in a small amount of time, and Legion World had just undergone a transitionary period, where Stu, the mage who had transformed into a puppy, had now been elected LMBP leader. All seemed well in the world.
As the legions of fans surrounded Office of Security, Super Lad Kid, the hero of the day lately, waved to the crowd. "Careful SLK" said Cobalt. "The last thing you want is one of those groupies to have your baby". "Jeez Cobalt, let it go. So you have a couple of kids". "Couple? I have six kids. And all but one are older than me. Besides Numf and Umber, the rest are all robots, demons or future world conquerers". "What's that racket?" asked SLK suddenly. "Nothing, Shark Lad is feasting on my legion of fans"
Meanwhile, at SHAKES, Vee and Icey were welcoming an old hero named "Mean Old Hero" to Legion World, to commemorate Stu's term as leader. Mean Old Hero had three things about him that explained who he was: he was a man, he was old, and he was fuckin' mean! He liked to drink gin strait from the bottle with a chaser of tequilla and vodka mixed together with Pine-Tar.
Mean Old Hero stepped into SHAKES, and suddenly, Vee knew something was wrong. He took one look at the pole Icey had put up, and his temper flared! "I've had enough, you sons of bitches!" said the old bastard! "Huh? What have we done?" said Kid Prime walking in. Mean Old Hero punched Kid Prime with a sudden right cross, showing a strength that was similar to Space Ranger! He suddenly flew into the air, screaming and yelling!
"What the hell is that old guy doing?" said Invisible Brainiac walking by with Fat Cramer and Emerald Empress.
Up in the sky, Space Ranger and Kara approached the mean old hero, who was still in peak physical condition. "Um, hello?" said Kara. "I'll show you!" he yelled. "I'll show what it is to be mean!"
And with that, the Mean Old Hero made every single penis on the planet fall off of it's owner. Oh, there were a lot of tears that day...
From: If you don't want my peaches, honey... | Registered: Sep 2003
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