Legion World Forums LEGION OUTPOST Bits o' Legionnaire Business Numf & Sonnie Go To Hell On A Pushbike

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Great stuff Ken, loving your work - as ever! More, more, more!

Please.

There was some connection running through Numfs brain between Harbi and Dinosaurs.

Magnificent breasts?

Nope, wasn't that. Heroic hair?

Nope - that neither.

Alan! That works, but wasn't what he was after.

Warm charming personality? Nope.

Magnificent breasts? Been there - might just have to come back to them again. But still nope.

Oh yes, something that Harbi had once said. Something else else about a belief held by Funda-fucking-mental-ist Christians (as she put it) and Jehovahs Witnesses.
A belief that if you went back to the Bible and added up all of the ages of those that begat someone else, all the way back to Adam, and then added on seven days (or was it six, 'cos God rested on the seventh?) you'd get to the day that the earth was created. As if God had to restrict his days to 24 hours. Being God he could quite easily slow time down and make it, say, a 26 hour day, because surely he'd be working late on a couple of nights .......
So, therefore the world is approximately 6003 years old. And maybe a few extra hours that they forgot to add.

Oh - minus a few for when God stopped the world in its tracks during a battle in the Old Testament. So maybe they were right after all.

So, having only six days to create the earth, every single physical law, create the building blocks of absolutely everything, work out a power supply to provide energy to last for ever, work out what could maintain life and what would just kill everything off in the wink of an eye (how many failed experiments were there out there? Numf often wondered), etc.etc etc. God then thought that he'd pull off the April fool joke OF ALL TIME (even though it was just the beginning of January) and fill the land up with the bones of pretend animals!

WHAT a joker!

But then he gave us all a clue as to his joker credentials when he created the duck-billed platypus. We now can't claim that we weren't warned.

Since the whole point of all world religions is Faith, this would surely be the main crux of the Christian faith. If dinosaurs had lived, then it disproved the Bible. So, if you believe in dinosaurs then you can't believe in the Bible!
In the very word of God!

QED.

Take that and party!

However, instead of the perversely reasoned account that has just gone on in his head, Numf hears himself say:

"Listen Bugger-lugs! Have I answered your question or not? You only asked for a one word answer, but I've even explained my answer for you!"

He feels himself tense up, ready for an argument.

In a perfectly calm and reasoned response St. Peter replies, "Yes you have answered - but I think that you've cheated. And anyway - your initial one word answer was wrong. You are the weakest link, goodbye!" Closer examination would note the tips of his ears turning pink.

And so saying, two besuited guards pick him up from behind and throw him out before he has the foggiest what has happened.
It felt like there were at least four of them though.
Strange.

Skiting along sand and gravel on your arse is not a recommended way to pass your time. Under just about any circumstances.

Numf picks himself up after a few seconds of pain comtemplation (and then realising that there isn't any) and readies himself to run at the gate. He sees, however, the zombies turning around and shuffling off. They seem to realise that the fight is over, even before it's properly begun.
And anyway, what kind of person would he be to start a fight at the Pearly Gates? The entrance to heaven.

Resignation permeates every cell of his body. The desire for revenge seeps away.
"Bollocks. I suppose I always knew that I'd never be good enough....." he mutters to himself, shoulders drooping.

And then he smells something that has been trying to get ahold of his consciousness for seemingly days now.
And he realises just how bloody hungry he is. His shoulders snap to attention, and he takes the deepest of breathes, in through his nose.
He breathes out, and then breathes in through his nose again, this time with his eyes closed. It's still there - he's not dreaming.

His stomach thinks his throat has been cut, but his brain knows it's actually the other way around.

The last thing he expected here.
Chips!

Do you smell a smell you recognise?



Loving it Ken, especially 'Skiting along sand and gravel on your arse is not a recommended way to pass your time. Under just about any circumstances.' - I agree!

Hope all is splendid with you and yours

xx

Ohmygod, Mr. Ghostly Numfie, That not sucky story is so funny I sprained my Toochis Laughing.

Ummm Oh and Hi Miz 'Binger!

Thanks EG - you're allowed to stay around and compliment me as much as you like.
Seriously though, I'm glad you're enjoying it.

Mmmmm, I might use that as my new by-line - "Official Toochi sprainer."

Numf follows his nose.

Sniff, sniff, sniff, not too dissimilar to a bloodhound tracking smells through the air.

Almost without thought Numf finds himself at the far side of the Pearly Gates, in front of a small golden two wheeled vehicle, upon which sits a vat of boiling golden fat. From which the most delicioius aroma that Numf has ever smelled in his, well, death, eminates.

Numf looks down at the sign hand painted on the side of the vehicle.


Judas's Chariot.

"So, they didn't let you in neither?" asks the swarthy chip-frier conversationally.

"Nope. 'Fraid not. How much are your chips?" asks Numf, drooling.

"A small shiny coin for one bag, or a big shiny coin for two," replies Judas, for that is who it is.

"How about this one - not only is it a big coin, but it's part gold and part silver," says Numf, holding the coin that Driver had given him out for inspection.

"Shiny, shiny! You can have two bags for that," comes the reply.

"Excellent - I'm bloody starving! I've been stuck under a pile of bodies for the last few days."

"Hey, was that you? Tell you what, you can have them for free! I made a killing these past few days, what with all the sightseers stopping to ogle for a while," says Judas, stirring the chips in the boiling fat.

Numfs mouth is by now producing enough saliva to drown a small dog.

"Nice, um, chariot you've got there. I like the paintwork," says Numf, nodding towards the sign.

"Why thanks. Believe it or not, this here is the actual chariot that Zeus used to pull the sun across the skies. Back in the days when he was in charge of course," says Judas.

Numf whistles, impressed. "Wow," he says."I'm impressed! I'll bet that cost you a pretty penny."

"Thirty..."

Numf joins in, ".....pieces of silver." Numfs nods his head in understanding.

"Did you get his horses as well?" Numf asks.

"Heck no - I couldn't afford them. And anyway, I know nothing about grooming horses. I'm used to walking everywhere. Open top sandals," replies Judas, shrugging.

"Fair enough, but you surely don't pull the chariot along behind you ...."

"No, I managed to save enough to buy myself a bicycle a few years back," Judas says, motioning over to his left. " But I hide it over there - you never know with all the bloody thieves roaming around out here!"


"So," Numf asks after a pause, "whatever happened to Zeus?"

"Well, that was the reason that I got the chariot so cheap. You see, with the belief structure heading away from Greek mythology to Christianity he had let himself go to seed a bit. He wasn't looking after himself. Beard was growing long and unkempt, and what a beer belly he'd managed to put on. Well, those drinking sessions with Dionysus were legendary around these parts! So he was selling up and shipping out. "Last I heard his plan was to go live at the North Pole under an assumed name and make toys for children. He somehow reckoned that would make him popular again."

A pleasant, contemplative silence follows, during which time Judas passes over the first bag of chips.

Five seconds later it's finished, and Numfs mouth is blistering nicely. And his oesophagus. And stomach. But, he's had worse.


"So, how come they wouldn't let you in?" asks Judas.

"Oh, you know! I answered their question correctly, but in a roundabout way. And St. Peter thought I was swicking," answers Numf.

"Well," chortles Judas, "If anyone knows about 'swicking' it's him!"

"Hey, but what about you? How come you're not in there?" asks the numfster.

"Oh, come off it! Surely you know my story? Betraying Christ? You remember?" Judas says.

"Yeah, that's as maybe. But don't forget, it was all pre-arranged, wasn't it?" replies Numf. "If it weren't for you there'd be no Christ on a cross, no Easter eggs, no ultimate sacrifice, no resurrection and therefore no hope of eternal salvation in Paradise for billions of followers for the last 2000 years. Without you there'd be no faith, no hope, and no Christian religion, basically. So, surely that's worth a trip past the gate? And anyway, God made you do it."

"What do you mean 'God made me do it'? Surely it was Satan that made me do it?" asks Judas.

"Don't be daft! First of all it was prophesised in GODs book - allegedly the book of HIS word. So he knew damn well it was going to happen. And did nothing to stop you - in a time well known for miracles taking place. So therefore it was your destiny, fate, whatever you want to call it. Not your fault.
"Secondly, God is omnipotent and created everything - including Satan. Therefore Satan must be here to do Gods work. Or he wouldn't have created him in the first place.
"Thirdly - don't forget that Peter denied Jesus not once, not twice, but three times. And HE's got in! He's well known as the man on the gate, weighing souls. Whereas your name has been absolutely vilified! So much so that traitors are known as Judases.
"And lastly for now, if Satan had talked to you, you would have resisted him, wouldn't you?"

"Of course I would have!"

"Exactly - 'cos you were one of the Apostles! One of the better-than-good guys. Jesus wouldn't have picked you if you were that much of a push-over. So therefore it must have been God who told you what to do. Otherwise you would have fought it off," finished Numf.
"I mean, God is apparently omnipotent. Doctors can cure that with little blue pills these days.
"He's also omnipresent - I tried that once and they called me a bloody stalker!
"And what's the other one - omniscient? Means he knows bloody everything. Well, NOBODY likes a smart-arse!"

"You know something? You're right!" Judas says. "I'm going to go and kick up a stink about this! Two thousand years I've been out here, day in, day out. First begging, then selling chips. Haven't had a bloomin' holiday in I can't remember how long...."
The dummy has been well and truly spat out.

"Umm, before you go, can I get my second bag of chips?"

And that's how Numf acquires a pushbike.

I mean, who cares if he stole from someone like Judas?
The bastard betrayed Jesus, for goodness sake!
Deserves everything he bloody well gets!

Having said that, Numf at least has the good grace to leave his shiny two pound coin in exchange - and he regrets for a long time the fact that he doesn't wait around for change.

What a wreck!

No shiny BMX this. More like a UXB!
The only time that you ever see bikes like this is in adverts for 'Rrrrreal Brrrread like your mutha used to bake'. With dirty kids in flat caps careering down steep cobbled streets in English mining villages during the war.

This thing even has the small front wheel, and the basket for delivering rations!
Judas had obviously not purchased a pump at the same time as the bike, and although the chain is well oiled, it smells strangely of fish. And it is fairly obvious that the phrase 'suspension' had only applied to IKB's bridges in them days.

Having accepted his second bag of chips, Numf had wandered back towards the Pearly Disney Gates with Judas. This had been a two-fold mission. First of all, to see if he could find Sonnie - because he had worked out that it must have been him that had signalled the reply to him.
And of course to watch the fun and games.

Whilst Numf was scanning the immediate area with his newly found ultra-vison for signs of Sonnie, Judas was up close and in the face of St. Peter.

And it's Petey-honey-bunches that, rather surprisingly, throws the first punch, after a rather nasty jibe about his mother. Or more accurately, him AND his mother. Totally unfounded, of course, but it seemed to hit a raw nerve.

However, standing around for 2000 years doesn't make you much of a boxer. Whereas Judas has been stuck around outside with Heavens rejects for just about as long. He knows how to rabbit-punch a throat. And how to drive an elbow into a solar plexus. As Petey-of-the-kicked-arse soon becomes aware.

The security guards aren't quick enough to stop the flurry of fists, knees, elbows and teeth that ensues - or maybe they just think he deserves a good hiding too? We'll never know for sure.

But eventually the guards break their way through the zombies who are shuffling their way slowly back to the gate to see the fight (not something you see very often in heaven, you know). And pick up both Petey and Judas by the ears, turn round and march off with them, in the direction of the big white castle. After a half dozen steps the biggest of the guards turns around and points a remote control at the gate. He presses a big red button, and the gate swings quickly, but silently, shut.

A small sign appeared - 'No hawkers!'

A small whimper of excitement escaped Numfs lips as his super vision spotted a fly-sized black object on a rooftop 400 yards away. Until he zoomed in close and realised that it was a fly.

And climbing the gates hadn't helped matters, as there had been some kind of bloody forcefield. Which no amount of heat vision, superspeed pulverising, nor any amount of swearing at, could budge.

He had turned to go, having surveyed the area thoroughly. Twice.
And there, floating right in front of him was Sonnie.
Not the black fly-like Sonnie, but the new improved diamond Sonnie.
Bouncing happily to himself. Obviously glad to be back with his older brother.

Numf had been awe-stuck by the beauty. There was something about the joy that exuded from this beautiful little buzzing light reflecting display that had reminded Numf of ....... a little puppy dog.

Oh, or maybe Sonnie, when he had thought for a few seconds longer.

So, having found the bike, here they are now, 'speeding' along at only slightly more than walking pace away from the Pearly Gates, Numf cycling, Sonnie buzzing, with not the foggiest idea where they're going.

(Sounds familiar.)

Judas selling dodgy chips (and I hope hotdogs, burgers and watery looking fried onions?) at the side of the Pearly Gates! Oh Numf, you excel!



PS what do you want for your birthday?

Three days they spend riding along within spitting range of the wall surrounding Heaven, proving just how big the place is. There are times that Numf feels as if it is expanding to force them into the river, almost as if it is a living entity, but he is sure that it is just his imagination playing tricks on him.
When they come to the end of the wall, the view to their left confirms that it continues as far as the eye can see. And considering Numfs new Ultra-vision, that is a considerable distance indeed.

All along their trip up to this point they have heard the rides going on at the other side of the wall.
Screeching tyres, shuffling axles, splashing flumes.
Screeching kids, shuffling feet, splashing puke.

And that was when they find the road.

The one made of yellow bricks.

It's either a case of taking the road, or going cross country. The thought of building a boat and taking the river even crosses Numfs mind, but he decides against it, because he doesn't know how to build boats.
And since the bike's bad enough on the flat, smooth road there's no way that he's going to try riding it cross country. He doesn't think his testicular health would last very far if they take that route.

So, follow the yellow brick road it is.
With Numf as Dorothy and Sonnie as Toto. By the looks of things.

WTF am I getting us into? Gawd, I don't know if I'm ready for this.

Ohmygosh, Mr. Ghostly Numfie, are we gonna get guest appearances by the Saw-Horse and the Hungry Tiger and all the other not sucky characters in the OZ Books who got stiffed out of being in that movie?

Gram gave me a full set of the OZ books... They're Great! (Betcha didn't know that Tony the Tiger was based on the Hungry Tiger in the OZ Books.)

"Hey look. Over there in the field! " exclaimed Numf. "That's funny , I could have sworn ... I.... saw.....horse..... Oh well, maybe not. You know something Sonnie, I'm hungry. Tiger beer with rowies and cheese. Mmmmmmm. If only......."

(And, I'm afraid, that's as close as you're gonna get. And a lot, lot closer than I had planned.)

"THE RUBY CITY - LAND OF OOZ -->" reads the sign which points along the yellow brick road.

Suddenly a large, bumpy, slimy, amphibious frog-like creature jumps from the grassy verge onto the road in front of them and hops along in the direction that they are headed, oblivious to their presence.

Numf turns to Sonnie and says "Did you notice the size of his [male bird, especially of domestic fowl]! And the colour? It looks like he's been [seabird, a kind of cormorant known for its crest]ging a banana and forgotten to remove it afterwards!"

Sonnie nods, in what has been agreed as a 'yes'.

Numf breaks into song -

# Follow the yellow [to pierce lightly with a sharp point] toad, follow the yellow [to pierce lightly with a sharp point] toad,
Follow, follow, follow, follow, follow the yellow [to pierce lightly with a sharp point] toad.#

At which Sonnie pushes him off his bike.

Something else else tells me, Mr. Ghostly Numfie, that this isn't the OZ I grew up with...

We're certainly not in Kansas anymore

If you go back and read my previous Onevision, Dragons (I think you'll have to search back to about July or so) you'll see that I didn't re-write Aliens, I just borrowed a few bits and pieces.

Come to think of it, are you old enough to have seen Aliens?
Shit, are you old enough to have read that last joke about the toad?

Oh no, I'm perverting minors! Oh no, I'm going to have to go back and sanitise it. Bugger. You'll get me into trouble, you will!

That's okay - it's sanitised now.

Sooorrrrrrry!

(Your gramps is going to give me a row for writing this now - let alone what Nighty'll do!)

Honestly, Mr. Ghostly Numfie, I'm 17 not 12. I know all about that stuff. I just don't need to be as blunt in my humor as some people here. However I do have a finely honed sense of the absurd (I needed it to survive while growing up) and can appreciate and enjoy the bluntness of other people's humor.

So you may undo that edit, you silly prick.

Oh bugger - now Invisible Brainiac's here too!

Sorry, EG, if you saw that as patronising. It wasn't intended as such.

Please forgive me.

It was kind of half a joke and half a reminder to myself that I've had my wrist slapped in the past for going too far in this format. (There's a link somewhere to the scenes at Shameless Hussies pole-dancing contest, but you'll have to find it yourself. Or get Gramps to show you.)

But it does beg the question ' when do you stop being a minor?' Different societies have different answers, and some societies even have contradicting answers (e.g. over here you can have sex legally at 16, but not buy soft core porn until you're 18).

And since we're on an internet site that covers the whole wide world, whose rules do we play by?
Nightys as it happens (that's already been established, and I don't have a problem with that) - but what if there's a case where Nightys rules contradict your own countrys?

For example if your country outlaws homosexuality, how do you deal with all the blatant flirting that goes on in some of these threads?

But that's perhaps too big a question to go into here - I'm only here to try and provide a cheap larf after all.

And as for the censoring, I personally think it provided that aforementioned 'cheap larf'.

Shit, where were we?

-------------------------

"So, Ooz. Strange name. Whatcha think? Should we give it a try?" asks Numfy as he picks himself back up and

gets on the bike, smiling to himself. Off they trundle.

Sonnie nods.

"Look Sonnie, this is crap. We've spent four days out here, and the bestest means of communicating that we've

come up with is for you to nod or shake yourself. Yes or no. You can train worms to do better than that! Whoever's

writing this had better come up with something workable, and soon. And we can't carry a window covered in

consdensation everywhere."

And so saying Numf and Sonnie stop.

Numf puts down the bike and stands there, arms folded, looking up and around, almost as if he's searching for an

author looking down at him.
Sonnie hovers


Six hours later Numf gets pins and needles in his foot.
Stamping eventually gets rid of it.


Sonnie hovers. And hovers some more.

Not a word is spoken as the waiting continues.


Darkness falls, which is something that you don't really expect in and around heaven. The need to re-charge

battteries. Sleep. That sort of thing.

Numf curls up and sleeps like a baby.

But is woken just before dawn by a dream of someone trying to shove a banana in his mouth ...................

Ohmygod, Mr. Ghostly Numfie, if I'd have thought I'd cause you to get all serious and psychological and junk, I'd have never, like NEVER-EVER, have like tried to tweak yer beak about the Oz books and stuff, just cause it's so obvious that you only saw the movie and don't know who I'm talking about.

So, I'll just quietly enjoy the cheep laffs now... Just let me know if my giggling is interrupting your train of like thought and junk, cause I don't want this seriously not sucky story to turn into a discussion of international legal non-issues or something.

I thought it would be slightly nicer than "Fuck off, Shorty!"

And btw I read the frist book only a couple of years ago (one of the advantages of reading bed-time stories).
And I thought it was almost as bad as Alice In Wonderland.

I don't know which of you is the funnier so let me just add a customary cry of more, more, more!!!