Moonpies and Lunatees

Author's Warning!!! : This piece of "writing" is pretty much guaranteed to be offensive to SOMEBODY. Anyway, just keep in mind that incidents portrayed are being wholly blown out of proportion, or, more often, totally made up. As long as you keep a sense of humor, you shall enjoy this story. If you do not have said sense, or have misplaced yours wherever politically correct activists keep losing theirs, please put this down, as the authors have no interest or patience for listening to your crap. Thank you.

"Jim!" the voice called from outside the bedroom door, "Jim!" With the second sounding of this unknown yet...familiar...name, the urgency in the voice had grown. Now the sound of a fist pounding against the door's wooded surface could be heard, until finally, the lock gave and the door popped wide open. For a split second, the visage of "Jim"'s mother could be seen, until the door bounced off of the stopper and back towards her, where it was stopped by the sickening crunch of nasal cartilage.

"Damn doors. The devil's work, I say!" she muttered as she opened the door. The room was unlit, aside from the blazing blue of the computer screen, which illuminated two figures. One, her son "Jim", was at the keyboard. The other...

"Jim! Sweet mother of pearl, you're in your room alone with...with...a GIRL?!" she screamed as she dashed between them. Acting quickly, as any normal, insanely overprotective mother would, she sent the girl flying with a vicious jab-uppercut combination.

"Mom! What in heck are you DOING?" "Jim" shouted in alarm as he stood.

"Jim! I will NOT tolerate such language! As is said in the bible, 'Thou shalt not swear'!"

"I don't recall that passage..."

"I see! So now you're not keeping up on your biblical studies?! Into the closet at once young man! You must give 10 straight hours of prayer as penance for your carnal sins!" she shrieked, throwing in a vicious slap as well.

"Hey, listen here..." the girl started.˜

"Blana! NOOOO!" "Jim" whispered...really loud...but it was too late. His mother turned slowly towards the vocal intrusion into her moment of nurturing.

"Don't move, Blana! She can only see movement!" "Jim" pleaded with the girl, who was already frozen by fear anyways. She could do nothing but watch as the vicious predator slowly walked in her general direction, sniffing the air, and swinging it's head round wildly, attempting to scare the girl into making some sort of motion. Then, it would close in for the kill. But "Blana" would have none of this wicked circle of life. No, she stood completely still, even as the predatious mother pulled within a nose length of her. And there it stopped. A long moment passed as the two looked straight at each other. Did it see her? Well, did it?

"Raaaaaawwwwwwrrrrrrrrrr!!!" "Jim"'s mother cried, ripping the still air with a war cry that would put Mariah Carey to shame. "Blana" simply stood and shook. But she didn't move, even as the mother's hot breath crossed her face.

"Aaaaah, damned hussy got away." "Jim"'s mother announced with resignation as she turned back towards her son. "And just what WERE you doing in here with that whore!"

"Mom, we were just on the Internet! Look, it's the Disney homepage! We were downloading some Winnie the Pooh pictures." he tried to rationalize.

"Good lord! Look at this filth! Farmyard animals...walking UPRIGHT?! And appearing to SPEAK?! BLASPHEMY! BLASPHEMY!" she screamed, then loosed the top of a bottle of holy water and liberally doused the Devil machine. It sputtered and sparked, then quickly died as smoke rose from it's 5 dollar plastic carcass.

"Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! Why? Why did it have to die! Take ME! Take me instead! Let the Pentium LIVE!" "Jim" wept as he held his dead friend in his arms. But his mother would have none of it, kicking the computer's remains across the room.

"Jim, you have given into temptation! Consorting with prostitutes, AND spending time with sexpots under MY roof? You shall have to pay for these sins!"

"But mom! I can't afford to LOSE another pound of flesh! Please, can't you exact something else?" "Jim" pleaded as he raised his shirt, exposing his scarred and rather skeletal frame.y "Silence, heathenous boy! Somehow the coupling of me and God has led to the devil springing forth from my very loins..."

"Goodness dear, I'm good, but I'm no God!" "Jim"'s father chortled from outside the room. "Blana" took this moment of distraction to run like Hell.

"You take the lord's name in vain?"

"Oh, lighten up, hon, I was just kidding."

"KIDDING? You consider such things a JOKE? "Jim", you shall wait here until I return. I have to go and stone your father. You may not do ANYTHING but beg for mercy from our almighty lord in heaven. After I have pummeled your father into submission with some one pounders, I'll be back, and we'll see about bleeding you for what you have wrought upon your already tortured soul. And I don't want you calling that...that "Lelly"."

"But, mom, he's a friend of mine!" "Jim" complained.

"NO! The boy is obviously walking upon the red carpet of COMMUNISM! He's a Bolshevik, pure and simple! You may as well strap some jackboots on that fool for all the good he does. And I doubt the purity of his creation, as well." she blabbered as she walked out. "Jim" was left to his thoughts and the bleatings of "Oh God, I think I'm dying!" from his father in the backyard

Meanwhile, as this was happening, another pair of boys, "Mim" and "Bliff", were gathered across the town of "Peduc".

"So, Mim, how are things going for you?" "Bliff" asked his pal of many a year.

"Bliff", my life continues to be utterly perfect. I am fulfilled by my highly enjoyable and challenging job at the bleach factory. In fact, I can never become bored with it's many varied challenges, many of which I face each day. As well, since our last meeting, I have asked my 90-pound girlfriend to wed me, and she has accepted." he reported to his friend with a smile.

"My word, that is outstanding! And if it would not be too droll, I would like to tell as well how well my life is going at this time."

"Good lord, "Bliff", I would not hear of such things being droll! Now, perhaps if you wanted to speak of that odd sport involving fat men hurling the skin of a swine, THAT would be droll." "Mim" offered with a chuckle.

"Hoho! Fine form, if I do say myself, "Mim"! But yes, as I was saying, my life goes well, friend. Do you realize that today marks the date when I began working at my current place of employment 6 years ago? It's such a nice feeling to know that you have contributed to just one manner of employment your whole working life, as I have."

"Oh, that is quite true, dear friend. But, I yearn for you to meet someone as I have. Only once you are involved with another can you truly be happy, for only then will your life be complete." "Mim" advised "Bliff".

"Aaaah yes, "Mim", in fact, such a thing has happened." "Bliff" replied with a smile.

"Goodness me, friend, why did you not tell me of this great occurrence earlier?" "Mim" asked, his voice becoming a little haughty.

"Oh dear me, my intention was not to offend or mislead you, dear "Mim". Rather, it was to avoid disappointing you. I know how long you have watched me live my life without the comfort of another, waiting for me to meet that one special person, and I have. But I wanted to ensure the commitment of the relationship before informing my closest friend of it's existence."

"Bliff my friend, you need not offer further explanation. I understand, as I know my dearest shall. I ask only one thing. Is this female you have grown to feel affection for another of these older women with whom you have been known to have pointless encounters as you have before?" "Mim" asked, a tear in his eye.

"No "Mim", this is not another of those trivial four year relationships the type of which I had with Helena, the 32 year old public defender. Rather, this is a relationship I feel confident will last through the ages. In fact, we are scheduled to wed this very weekend."

"Good lord, "Bliff", do you feel you're ready?"

"Well, "Mim", it has only been an involved relationship of 3 years, hardly enough time to fully know my future mate. But...I can honestly say that the love I feel is pure."

"Then "Bliff", my friend, I can overlook this ridiculously short courtship period and bless this affair. I trust it shall be done in the strictest Catholic fashion?"

"But of course, "Mim"! As we both well know, there is no greater need to man than to be part of the organized religion of Catholicism. Only through it's back breaking torment may we achieve true fulfillment. And "Mim", as we have been close for many a year, I would be forthright pleased if you were to accept my humblest offer of being my best man."

"Bliff, I could never hope to actually be said best man, as that could only be a man who has not transgressed. And since I failed to rescue Mrs. O'Leary's cat from that snowplow in time, I cannot be that man."

"But "Mim", surely the sacrifice of one's legs in such an endeavor is suitable?"

"Now "Bliff", you know you need not try and diminish my humbling experience. I erred, and that shall keep me from the kingdom of heaven. However, to return to the earlier question without needless 'ranting', I would be honored."

"Mim, thou's decision makes me happy as can be. Let us retire to the juice bar and enjoy some grapefruit juice."

"Excellent, "Bliff", so long as it is not spiked with the pulp of the fruit itself. It is forbidden."

"Of course, "Mim", of course. Oh, canapes!"

"So, "Lyle", whattya feel like doing today?" "Totti" asked his friend.

"Ummm...nothing...at all..." "Lyle" stammered in reply.

"Look, "Lyle", it's pretty damn obvious to me that something's been troubling ya, so unload, buddy." "Totti" told his friend as he ran his hand through his thick hair, relishing in it's luxuriance

"I just don't think you're the right man to talk to about such a problem, "Totti". I look at you, and...well, you're living the dream of any warm-blooded male. Fast car, six figure salary in a glamorous career as a hand model, a different hot woman on each arm every weekend..."

"Heh heh heh...livin the North American dream! Don't I know it! Who woulda thought it when I was born an impoverished factory worker in the slums of Rumania? Anyway, you listen to me, "Lyle". You and I have been through many hard times, and we're still good friends. There is NOTHING you can say that will diminish our friendship, or cause me to do anything foolish like mock you. So, spill already!" "Totti" instructed his friend.

"Well, all right then. "Totti", as you know, I haven't had much luck when it comes to women. Anyway, over the last year I have been really giving it some hard thought and...ah Hell, "Totti", I'm gay!" "Lyle" shouted, a look of relief as he finally let his secret free. "Totti" simply watched the road for a long minute, the arm of his white sports jacket resting in the open window. Finally, and much to "Lyle"'s relief, he finally spoke.

"Lyle, I had no idea. And all these years, I've been trying to send you to bed with one babe after another. Damn it, damn my blindness, and damn me for being so god damn cruel! "Lyle", there is absolutely no shame in playing for the ol' pink team, as Liberace used to call it. In fact, come down to Reno with me next week, and I'll introduce you to Aaron. He's a friend of mine, and I got a feeling you two JUST might hit it off." "Totti" said with a grin.

"He's gay as well?"…

"Not yet...but you'll convert him." "Totti replied, and they both shared a laugh only friends can share as they cruised the strip...

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, we seem to have gotten mixed up with a group of oddballs who are not at all a part of this story. Still, they are somehow vaguely familiar...hmmmm...

"Pantalon! There's no way out of this building! give it up and surrender!" the police chief shouted towards the brick structure with a megaphone in hand. Everywhere around him were cops, creating a sea of blue. Here and there, black-suited SWAT officers specked the police order with a bit of pepper. The chief had been trying to get the terrorist ringleader inside the building, Vert Pantalon, to surrender to no avail. What the Hell could the fool be thinking? Where did he think he was going to go?

Inside the building, an Arab man sat on the floor, a Skorpion submachine gun loosely aimed in the direction of his ten hostages. He cackled as he loosed his grip on the gun and pulled a cellular phone out of a pocket in his jacket. Secretly, he hoped one of the fools he had with him would take this as a sign of weakness and attack. He knew that he would easily have time to bring the gun back into play and spray the foolish infidel with a few dozen lead reminders that the gun is faster than the man.

"The fools...they may have me, but they have NOT stopped me! HAHA! Don't they realize that my moment of purification with shower me with Allah's glory in the afterlife, while they burn in the fires of their own torment? For YEARS they have oppressed my peoples, controlling what enters my country with their economic sanctions, telling my countrymen what they can and cannot do under the flag of peace keeping. They have kept my great country of Iraq down, but no longer! Now he would be the victor, he would control THEIR destiny. And the delicious irony of it all was that they did not even KNOW! As he began dialing in the 7 digit number, he remembered what the bomb maker he had worked with had told him. Simply dial in the 7 digits, and as the phone-activated detonator rang a second time, the bomb, in a building just a few miles away, would go. The TNT would detonate first, but then the Plutonium core, which would be armed on the first ring, would go up as well. All of central Alberta would be flattened or irradiated, and the entire region reaching well into the United States would be converted into a fallout-ridden slag heap about as productive as the tundra wastelands to the north. The phone rang, then the click as it seemed to pick up. This would be the core arming. Vert waited for the second ring...but it didn't come! What had that damned munitions expert done? He was becoming quite furious, when suddenly...it SPOKE!

"Uhhh....Hello?" the voice came through the phone. My God, that guy was a better programmer than I ever imagined! A TALKING bomb! How...neat!

"Yes...hello...are you...there?" the master of international destruction asked his beautiful creation.

"Yes, well, pretty fucking OBVIOUSLY! Now who the Hell is THIS?" The bomb was becoming surly!

"This...this is your CREATOR!" he shouted back. A machine with...with...emotions?

"Really? Well, isn't that interesting. Let me just turn to my right a bit and...oh look! Sitting there, on the couch, is MY DAD! Now, seeing as he IS my father, I feel that would make him my creator as well. Therefore, my CREATOR is on the couch, while some FREAKASS GONAD is babbling to me over the PHONE!"

"But...what are you talking about? Are you going to explode or not?"

"Oh, believe me, I'm damn well exploding! I'm fucking blowing up all OVER the damn place! Why don't YOU come on over HERE, and I'll let you SEE it RIGHT up close and in PERSON, upside your freakass little shit NOSE! Wait a second...is this Liam? I swear to God, Lum, if this is you pulling my leg again, I will tear off your arm and plant it firmly through your back by route of your navel!"

This just didn't make any sense to Vert, until he looked at the number he had dialed. In his haste, he had simply hit the wrong number!

"Listen to ME, infidel, I am going to hang up now. But SOON you will be DEAD!" he snarled.

"Oh, so that's a threat then? Come on over here, it's GO time, pal! And who's the infidel, Mr. I-Can't-Even-Use-A-Damn_Phone..." but Vert didn't even hear this saucy retort, as he had already hung up.

"Goddammit!" Atti shouted as he depressed the...uhhh...that there hang-up button, then looked up the caller's number on Caller ID. By some absolutely wonderful fluke, the guy's cell number appeared on screen! Quickly, Atti started dialing...

"Now, fools, you shall ALL die..." Vert shouted loudly as he continued pressing buttons...9...7...0...RING!

Vert was caught off guard as the phone rang in his hand, then realized it could be Jambon, his brother and the second in command of the whole organization. He answered, only to be assaulted with a loud and very fast group of words too distorted to be heard properly, and too surly to recap anyhow.

"How have you gotten this number?" Vert demanded of Atti, who had dialed him back.…

"That ain't the deal HERE, Mr. Shit! No, what WE'RE gonna figure out is how many ways I can kick your ass before you damn well DIE!"

"You are ruining my fiendish plot to open the eyes of your corrupt Western governments!"

"Eyes? Good place to start! I'm thinking I tear them out with a shrimp fork, then drop them into your already open chest cavity! Then I'll..." the rest of the threat was stopped by the police storming the structure.

"Noooo! I must..." But the words came too late, as Vert was taken down in a hail of gunfire that chopped his body into a hamburger like product, not unlike Spam

"Hey! Are you still THERE? Oh, fuck you too, buddy! REAL mature...ya...ya goober! HAHA!" Atti razzed, then hung up the phone. Oh well, he was too irate to go back to sleep on the floor. And here it was, 3 in the afternoon, and he'd only got 3 hours of sleep! Damn 400 minute SVGA porno movies and their ridiculous download times! He was gonna pay for this early wake up call tomorrow. Oh well, may as well head over to Tim's.

Sure, he was supposed to be there an hour earlier, and this would be ridiculously early according to Cliff Standard Time, Cliff thought, but what the Hell! He went through the motions of the everyday morning routine, then clambered into the beast and made his way to Tim's. As he pulled up in front, he noticed that Atti's car was not yet there. Holy shit, not the last person to arrive for once, AND he found a shiny dime on the sidewalk! What a week! Thirteen more days like this, and he'd be on his way to a coffee!

While Cliff was getting used to this new feeling of having "money" in his wallet, Atti was blasting his way through Edmonton on his way to pick up Kelly, the orchestra of Mortal Kombat clearing his way through the grid lock. It was one of those glorious stylin days, where single men need do nothing else but drive around, bobbing their heads to loud music, and giving the wink and the gun to every attractive woman they see to be satisfied with the day. Of course, it doesn't hurt their moods to think of their coupled friends busy enjoying the many options open to them, namely doing the laundry, or, if they're REALLY good, catching Hell for not getting the bathroom clean enough.

Needless to say, Atti was in a damn good mood as he pulled down the street of Harll. Kelly was waiting at the sidewalk, and jumped into the car. Well...sort of.

"Atti, you think you could do me a favour?" Kelly asked.

"Maybe...hey, you aren't gay, are you???" Atti replied.

"Good lord no! I was just wondering if...maybe...oh, I dunno, you could actually STOP the DAMN CAR!" Kelly shouted. Atti looked over for the first time to see that Kelly had managed to get only his upper body into the car as it passed. His legs were still jutting out the open passenger door.

"What are you DOING? Shut the door, before it hits something!" Atti shrieked as he slammed on the brakes. Kelly was 'aided' into the car by this abrupt stop, 'helped' all the way to the dashboard.

"Yeah, thanks, Atti." The voice was dripping with sarcasm. Well, sarcasm and loosened teeth. Those dashes ain't soft!

"I didn't stop for you! If that door hit something, it could fuck up the paint! And quit smacking the dash like that, you could cause deformities in the finely crafted...well...plastic." Then Atti decided to end this argument by grabbing his cell phone and dialing up Tim.

"Heeeyyyy...yeah, I just picked him up...stupid fuck almost WRECKED my CAR! Anyway...Cliff's THERE? You mean, he's there before ME? Shit...wait...I gotta go, see you soon!" Atti shouted into the phone before turning his attention back to Kelly as they pulled onto the highway, "What are you DOING?"

"What? What? I'm havin a drink here!"

"Straight from the CAN? There's no top on that thing! A spill in here would be catastrophic to the carpeting! And I don't even WANNA think what will happen if you hit the seat! Where's that vacuum sealed cup I gave you specifically for use in my car?" Atti demanded.

"How would I know? Oh, and thanks for that absolutely LOVELY Christmas gift, by the way. I never did thank you. The many USES of the vacu-cup just keep it from every becoming boring." More sarcasm, but this time, a dribble of Coke followed along. Atti watched in horror as the fluid cascaded steadily downward. There was no point in even TRYINg to stop it's path, as he would be too late. And then it struck, splashing down upon the upholstered seat, and soaking in quicker than Nightrain wine into a drunk's swollen liver.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Atti wailed as he looked upon the brown spot, "You've desecrated my car! You must PAY!" He forgot all about driving and lunged for Kelly, wrapping both hands around his neck and squeezing him beyond purple. Luckily for Mr. Harll, the car hit a curve just then, and flew off the road going about 150 with nobody to turn the wheel. Eventually the car came to a rolling stop, after crossing about three county lines. If it wasn't for that herd of cattle, it may have made Inuvik.

"Well, good job, Fuckwad! Now what?" Kelly shouted

"Not a problem, man, not at all. You remember the truck?"

"Oh yes, the vehicle you no longer have. Boy, THAT sure will be helpful! Well we're at it, let's dress up like Batman and Robin and fight crime!" Kelly offered. Always so helpful in a crisis.

"Now that's just ridiculous. I mean, I know we've been through some bad shit here, but jumping to THAT level or idiocy just doesn't make sense."

"You're...you're...right...Atti...?"

"Batman indeed. Obviously, Spiderman is the only choice here."

"WHAT?"

"Well, come now, Spiderman could obviously kick Batman's ass. He's the superior hero!"

"But how does this help...?"

"...take away Batman's cheat belt and he's just some nad with fag ears! Spiderman needs only webs. Let Batman have his little gay sidekick..."

"ATTI! HELLO?! ATTI? Would you like to maybe return to the fact that we're TRAPPED in a slough of mud and fresh hamburger?" Kelly screamed as he looked at the carnage around the stopped vehicle. Those cows weren't pretty.

"Batman..."

"ATTI!"

"WHAT? Oh...oh yeah. Well, ANYWAY, back to the truck. You see, the truck never REALLY got sold. In fact, you're in it."

"Mmmm...yes. My my, Atti. What a nice truck you have here. Neat-o. I mean, this truck is so truck, IT'S A CAR!"

"That's what you and the rest of the world thinks! Now, WATCH!" Atti shouted, then hit the big red button on the dash, the one nobody had ever seen because it...it was a STEALTH button. Atti had stolen some stealth technology from a semi-truck driver and used it in his own vehicle. Now the button just came outta nowhere! But after he depressed it, the car began to whir and click and move. It seemed strangely familiar to Kelly, on a different scale. Suddenly, as the passenger compartment began to raise and the windshield flattened out, it came to him. He was IN a Transformer!

"Yes Kelly, it's a Transformer. Why do you think I remain so obsessed with those robots? Other than the fact that they're just cool, I've been studying the technology from the movie during my repeated viewings. Anyway, when I realized I was in the market for a new vehicle, I simply took the old one and made it able to BECOME the new one. Pretty cool, eh? Man, I should do this in front of a lot of chicks. That'd get me the babes!"

"Yeah, but don't forget to include the whole Transformer speech...that's sure to knock their pants off..."

"Okay, Mr. Stain-Atti's-Car Guy! I should still kick your ass, you know! No...no...I'll leave that for Megatron to do some other time." Atti schemed.

"Megatron?"

"Yeah, Megatron. What, you didn't notice that Buddy's just a little TOO big to be a normal dog?" By this time, the car had become the Scout, and they headed out...for about twenty feet.

"Hey, you l'il bastards! Ya butchered me cows! Now I'se gonna butcher yew!" a hick voice cried out from somewhere behind. Atti looked in his mirror to see the owner of the farm, and the recently liquefied cows, aiming a rifle. The shot cracked out, and the sound reached the lads' ears about the same time as the sound of one of the rear tires blowing out.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! First you spill, now some fucker blows up my fucking truck! Why do I drive you people around?" Atti snarled, then leapt from the cab and was upon the farmer before he could fire. Unearthly screams could be heard, and Kelly dared not turn around. Then, the wailing mercifully ended, and Atti returned.

"So...what do we do now?" Kelly asked plaintively, shifting in his seat so that his leg covered up the spot while Atti wiped intestinal fluid from his hands.

"I don't fucking know! Shit, my fucking car is toast!"

The two began to despair, when, Kelly began to hear a familiar sounds faintly in the distance. As Atti wept like a baby and began digging a grave for his "beloved", Kelly strained his ears, and as the noise grew closer, could finally make it out for what it was.

"Dum-du-du-dum...du-du-du-dum-du-du-dum..." he began to make silly bass-like noises with his voice as in the distance a yellow car appeared, then veered into the field towards the two stranded motorists. Finally, it drew up alongside them.

"You buys need a lift?" the driver of the cab asked. He was one of those black guys you just look at, and automatically know the guy is cool. The same was true of his front seat passenger, another black guy with a guitar case across his lap.

"Mr...Mr. Cab Driver?" Kelly asked with incredulity.

"You got it, man."

"But, I thought you...you were just a made up character in a Lenny Kravitz song!?"

"Heh heh...man, if I knew how many cats had said them words to me...well, I wouldn't be too smart, would I, brain all full up o' shit like that. Now, you boys need a lift somewhere?" he asked, gesturing to the back door.

"Y...yeah! Yeah, thanks!" Kelly uttered, then ran over to Atti, who had just about buried the entire vehicle.

"Atti, come on, we got a ride!"

"I...I need to be alone with my Scoutetta for a moment..."

"Atti, come ON man, snap out of it! Do you know who that IS? It's Mr. Cab Driver!" Kelly gleefully squealed.

"Who?"

"Come on...Mr. Cab Driver? the subject of the coolest song ever written?" "Never heard of it."

"Oh, come on, Atti...Lenny Kravitz?"

"Did he do Da Funk? No? Oh...well, I wouldn't know him then. Anyway, sure, let's go." he shrugged, took one more look back at the mound of dirt where a proud vehicle had once stood, then followed Kelly into the back of the car, which took off the instant the door was closed. As it pulled alongside the corpse of the farmer, his family had appeared, and were now weeping as they stuffed his entrails into lamps. Hey, want not, waste not!

"Hey, you have ya'selves a good day, dig?" Mr. Cab Driver told them as he drove by with a smile.

"Sure will, Mr. Cab Driver!" they shouted in unison, waving their bloody hands in the air as the taxi pulled away. Nobody can resist the 'cool' allure of Mr. Cab Driver.

"So, where's you boys goin'?" he asked them.

"Oh, uh, my friend Tim's house in Leduc. Well, I wouldn't so much call him a 'friend' as a guy who's easy to make fun of." Atti told the cabbie. He had perked up the instant he hopped into the 'Cab O' Love'.

"Hey, I know dat cat! I can take ya right to his place. But we gots ta' make us a stop at the airport on da way, y'dig?"

"Sure, no problem. Say...are we stopping off to get some bitches?" Atti asked, a gleam appearing in his eye.

"Heh heh heh...well, not exactly. But if I knows ma' man John, he'll have a couple ho's wit 'im, arright." C.D. chuckled. Everyone laughed. It was the mirthmobile! "Anyway, I don' know 'bout none o' y'all, but I need me some muzak!" He flipped the radio on, and spun the dial until he found a station. It sounded sort of twangy...

"Aliens stole my immortal soul. They took my spirit and won't give it back."

"Why they took it I do not knows. All I knows is I wants it back."

"Sweet merciful lord, this BAD!" C.D. spat out in a disgusted voice, "I hates drivin round here, all ya here is some hillbilly whinin bout how his woman done 'im wrong. I'll tell y'all what his problem REALLY is. His woman ain't done 'im wrong, she just too busy doin' ME right, baby! Heh heh heh!" They all laughed.

"Sock it to me, C." the front seat passenger cackled in a deep, bass voice.

"Say...ummm...not to sound rude or anything, but who ARE you, anyway?" Kelly asked him.

"Hey, dat's cool. My name's smally biggs. Bu' y'all c'n just call me G."

"Well, nice to meet you...G. Uh...Mr. Cab Driver..."

"Jus' call me C.D. Hell, damn writer's been doin' it fo' da last page or so."

"Okay...well, C.D., why don't you change the station? I've never been a country fan."

"Woah! I thought all o' you'se white folk couldn't git 'nuff o' honky rock?"

"Good God no! That shit's...some vile...dig?" Atti responded, all the while performing mannerisms associated with such rap grandmasters as Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five.

"Look here, boy, you hear me talkin' honky up here? No, well, I don' wan' you talkin' no jive back there either, ya dig?"

"Hey, no problem C.D. Sorry, I was just trying to go with the flow is all. Whoops...shit...sorry...black phrase." Atti winced.

"Heh heh...no, whitey done taken that one from us folk a LONG time ago..." Again, everyone laughed.

"You da man, C." G uttered. (Jesus, this is starting to sound like a Sesame Street bit for advanced viewers)

"Anyway, so, if you'se don' listen to no honky whinin' shit, what y'all groovin' to up here?"

"Well, C.D., there are a few other radio stations. you might want to try...you know...FM..." Kelly offered.

"Ain't no need fo' no other band, honky brother. Jus' like there ain't no need for them to keep makin' music after Motown done died."

"Well...just to let you know what there IS..." Kelly was trying to change the subject, as it was obvious that C.D. was very spiritual about 'gettin' his groove on', and Harll hardly wanted to appear to be some uneducated 'jive turkey'.

"Oh, I'sorry, man, I jus' git a little real 'bout shit now and again." C.D. explained.

"Damn straight." G added. Always helpful.

"Hey, that's no problem, C.D."

"Say, before y'all goes on again, what y'all like to be called?"

"Oh, well, C.D., I'm Kelly Harll, this here is Attilla Kisch." Kelly told them.

"Well, you'se Harll, and you my friend," G said as he pointed at Atti, "you'se gotta' go by Attilla. Thass' gots to be da' coolest name I ever heard...for a honky."

"Well, thank you."

"I speak da' testament of da truth, A-man." G told him. Atti couldn't help but blush.

"Anyway, Big H, testify." C.D. told Kelly. Once he translated Mr. Cab Driver's jive-speak into white-talk, he nodded in understanding, and continued.

"Well, C.D., we do have a few other musical tastes up here. Like...okay, on the radio. There's 100.3 % Led Zeppelin, the station that plays nothing else. There's 92.3, which oddly enough is how much time per two hours they spend on ads. We have 97.3, The Krock of crap no other station wanted, 96 Lite-FM, and of course 105, all Rod Stewart, all the time." Kelly told him.

"Sheeeeeit, homes, da'ss nasty!" G laughed.

"Well, if dat's our options, I say you'se best kick it yo'own bad self, G!" C.D. told his friend.

"A'rright, you got it, homes. But only if them white folk ain't gonna dance. Nuthin' personal, see, I jus' seen yo' kind try n' shake, and I can't play if I be laughin'."

"Well...okay...sorry." Atti whimpered.

"Heh heh heh...you ain't gotta' apologize none, ain't you who's some 40 year old honky boy thinkin' he's all 'dat." C.D. laughed. Aaaah, black people. So cheerful! Anyway, G opened up his guitar case, and pulled out a bass guitar, which he hooked up to his cigarette lighter-powered amp, and he started playing. And what else would he play, but the bassline from Mr. Cab Driver, itself. It seemed as though the entire cab was gettin' down.

"Hey! Listen here some, writer boy! Jus' cause you'se writin' dis stereotype don' mean you can try talkin' like us none, dig?"

Uh...yeah. Sorry, Mr. Cab Driver, I got a little caught up in the negro spirit. It won't happen again.

"Thass' okay, can' blame y'all none. Hey Go, ya better cut it now, John ain't gonna' be diggin my song n' all, cat."

"I know what you'se sayin'." G quipped, then put his cool gear away. As they pulled up to the terminal, their other passenger was already waiting, leaning against the wall. But as soon as he saw the cab, he smiled and headed towards it.

"Hey, 'bout time you got here, C. G, how you doin' man?" the familiar figure asked as he clambered in beside Atti, who had quickly scooted over to make room.

"Workin' for da' man...'kay 'side from all dat noise."

"I know what you'se sayin'."

"You...you...you're SHAFT!" Atti and Kelly shouted as one.

"Well, whatcha know. A couple honkies know who I am. I gotta say, I got a big surprise goin' on right now. I take it y'all seen my movies?" Shaft asked.

"Good lord yes!"

"Good to know the Shaft message o' kickin' ass and makin' time's reachin' the white folks." Shaft told the two. The rest of the cab ride was spent in admiring silence, until they reached downtown Leduc."

"Hey, look at that guy in the back of that cab!" some random moron from the streets called out to his friend as the car stopped at a traffic light.

"Shit man, that looks like that Shaft pansy! Man, my mom could kick his ass!" Shaft wasted no time in leaping from the vehicle, and was upon the second boy before he could breathe.

"What you sayin' boy? Y'all 're playin' a dangerous game, boy. I'm gonna' have to make an example outta' the two o' you. And son, only reason yo' mama kick MY ass is I ask her too, dig?"

"Please...Mr. Shaft...don't hurt...MAAAUUUGGGHHHHHAAAA!" Well, you'd scream too if an angered black man tore your femur out of your leg, rendering your thigh into something about as solid as Jello. Shaft then dished out some justice, beating the two idiots to death with the femur, a sight soon blocked ut as the cab headed Tim's way.

"Well boys, we'se here." C.D. told them as he pulled up in front of the Brown residence. Tim's dad was watering the grass, but headed over to the cab with a grin as soon as it pulled up to the curb.

"C.D.! G! Hey, it's been awhile, guys!" he shouted as he reached the vehicle.

"Ain' it da' truth, Clive. We gots ta' get our mojo workin' sometime, boy! Anyways, boys, y'all c'n git out now, I gots more fares to git."

"Okay, well...thanks Mr. Cab Driver...G...but, what about your fare...?" Kelly asked.

"Ain' necessary, m'man. Y'all friends with Tim, and he friends o' my main man...well, m'main WHITE man, Clive, here. Hell, he cool on name alone! Anyways, on da' house. An' if y'ever need another ride, juss call me, I'se in da' book. So long guys!" And with that, the funkotron was gone.

"Well boys, Tim and everyone else are in the basement." Clive told them, then returned to his chores. He would never be looked at the same by them AGAIN.

As they reached the foot of the stairs, they could see that everyone else HAD already gathered. Kyle, Erron, Alana, Tim, Cliff...everyone but Liam, who was still off in Lethbridge. Someone would have to go pick him up soon, though. they were all in front of the TV, watching another of those damned Christmas TV specials.

"Shit, you guys are watching THIS crap?" Atti muttered as he sat down.

"Hey, about time you guys showed up. Where the Hell were you?" Tim asked, anger in his voice.Y

"Oh...nowhere...just having the defining experience of our VERY LIVES!" Kelly told them.

"Sssshhh! It's coming back on!" Everyone turned back towards the TV and watched as the screen flipped back from commercial. It appeared to be one of those Christmas stand-by's, a Charlie Brown Christmas special. At this moment, Charlie, Lucy and Lionel were gathered in a snowy field.?

"Come on, isn't there something else we can do?" Atti pleaded.

"Well...you can go watch the disco light in the fish tank spin if you want. The fish really seem to boogie." Tim told them.

"Oh for Christ sake...I'll just watch this." Atti turned huffily back towards the screen and began to watch. Suddenly, the carol on the show was replaced by the familiar wailing and power chords that made up Helter Skelter, by the Beatles. Then an all new Peanuts character appeared on screen. A skinny guy, with scraggly hair and beard, and a swastika on his forehead, and some big time crazy eyes.

"KILL them LUCY! KILL THEM with ME!" he shrieked, then handed the familiar blue suited character a butcher knife before going to town on Lionel with a hacksaw.

"Merry CHRISTMAS...Charlie Brown!" Lucy shrieked, then stabbed the bald fool again and again, not heeding his pitiful wails, stabbing him well beyond his moment of passing.

"Good Lucy, GOOD! NOW...let's go VISIT SANTA'S villAGE!" the murderous psychopath screamed, then lead his minion to another kill zone off screen. The cartoon stopped and the real version of the murderous cartoon appeared on screen.

"Wasn't that good kids? Did you like that? I bet you did. Because way deep down inside all of you buys and girls, there is a thirst. A thirst for violence, for bloodletting, for murder. And I'm telling you, No, NO! COMMANDING you...TO LET IT OUT! Go KILL your parents RIGHT NOW, KIDS! I bet you'll like it! But DON'T stop THERE! Go out amongst your NEIGHBORS, and your PREGNANT ACTRESSES...oh YES, ESPECIALLY them, AND SLAUGHTER THEM! AHAHAHA!"

"We'll be back with 'A Charlie Manson Christmas' after these messages." a disembodied voice said, then the screen went back to a Norelco ad.

"Say Tim...do you...have a...chain...saw?" Cliff asked in a trance-like voice.

"Piss off Cliff! you aren't slaughtering me!" Atti yelled, then punched his friend in the head.

"Ooooh man, did I ever need that. Anyway...well, let's do something before he comes back with his hypnotism portion of the show, okay?" Cliff pleaded.

"Okay, FINE! Well, what do you suggest we do then?" Tim asked.

"Let's go to Red Lobster! I know I've got a hankering for an omelette!" Alana put forth, bringing forth incredible stares from everyone else.

"You know, I hear they cook up a mighty fine omelette at Humpty's, Humpty being a giant EGG and all." Cliff said, drawing the famed 'stare of death' from Alana that all girls are capable of producing at any time.

"Well, let's just go somewhere! I mean...Hell, let's go look around...Winners or something!" Erron shouted. Everyone sat. Everyone thought. Everyone...AGREED?!

"So, what DID happen to your car anyways, Atti?" Tim asked as he hit the city limits, sharing his car with Atti, Kelly and Cliff.

"Sorta got trashed. Oh well, I'll just...'get another one'. Yes, perhaps a Trans Am/Lear jet..." Atti began plotting new Transformables at once, leaving the other three to converse. Then, a familiar voice came on the radio.

"Aie, you've won our Christmas Celtic teddy bear, you have!" the host of The Celtic Show said to whoever it was lucky enough to have won this fabulous prize.

"WOOHOO! THE CELTIC SHOW! Hey, Tim, gimme yer phone a second." Cliff asked(told) his friend, who handed it over. Quickly Cliff dialed, and soon was heard in stereo over the phone AND on the radio.

"Hi, Celtic Show guy, this is Cliff, and I have Kelly here with me."

"Hey! I worship you two! Thanks to your generous donations, I was able to have myself dipped in 24-karat-gold! AND I'm encrusted in diamonds!"

"Heh...no problem, just thought you deserved it, man. you have the greatest voice in the history of man speaking." Cliff told him.

"Well, it was MUCH appreciated. I mean, I have the latest...EVERYTHING! I even bought a publisher...but it turned out to have nothing at all to do with beer." The Scotsman told him with disappointment.

"Well, so long as you're rollin' right along. Anyway...oh, hear, Kelly probably has something to say." Cliff handed the phone over to Harll as Celtman continued yearning for a good draught.

"Hey...well...uhhh...I too am glad that you could put the money to good use. Anyway, we should really let you get back to your show. But, keep it up, man!" Kelly told him, then hung up and returned the phone to Tim.

"So, how much did you guys give the station, anyway?" Tim asked offhand.˜

"The STATION? the station sucks! No, we gave it ONLY to The Celtic Show, which not so coincidentally now occupies half of their airtime." Kelly flamed.

"Hey, sorry, man. But, how much did you give him, then?"

"Oh...I couldn't tell you the actual amount, but somewhere around...probably half a mil."

"Half...a million? HAHAHA! Oh Kelly, you are SUCH a card!" Tim laughed, until he realized nobody else was. Not even his giggle could get Kelly to laugh, which is a sign either of Kelly being dead, or the mood being REALLY serious. Serious to the extent that it will be if 'Highway to the Danger Zone' is ever banned for 'promoting danger on the highways'.

"Do you see why he's laughing?" Kelly asked Cliff.

"I don't see why he's laughing...do you see why he's laughing?"

"No, dumbass, I asked YOU. What about you then, Atti? Atti?"

"YES...of COURSE! The wings can retract into a GIANT SUBWOOFER! GENIUS!"

"Ummm...yeah...now, come on guys, where did YOU two come up with half a MILLION dollars?" Tim mocked.

"Hey, I work!" Kelly shot back.

"Yeah, and I...I...could always sell my blood!" Cliff added.

"They don't pay for it in Canada, Cliff, which you'd know if you could ever stay healthy long enough to donate!"

"Oh...well, SPERM then! I could sell that!"

"I don't think they pay for that, either." Tim told him.

"They don't. But you CAN sneak out some pretty good pornos under your shirt." Atti cut in.

"Then a KIDNEY!"

"Fine, WHATEVER! I still DON'T believe you two gave someone half a mil! I mean, what, you sold your family homes, vehicles, and possessions? I mean, come ON!" Tim yelled.

"Well...actually..."

"You SOLD EVERYTHING your families OWN?"

"Hey, that guy needed bucks! We filled a need." Kelly said.

"Well, I suspect there's a need for ass targets for horny gay men on 95th St., but I don't see you filling THAT need!"

"Of course not! You're never on 95th St.!" Cliff told him.

"What?"

"Well...you can't see what you're not...there to...see...or...well, it made sense in my head!" Cliff wailed.

"Well, if you sold your homes, where...?" Tim asked.

"My family's 'camping out' at the moment." Cliff told his friend, "I figure in about ten years they'll forgive me and let me join them on the family farm plot. Oh, better make that 15. Until just a scant time ago, they at least had a car to live in. But I really needed that coffee money!"

"Yes, I wondered why you didn't drive the car back OFF the lot before joining us in mine. Hmhm...plot hole? WHAT plot hole?"

"Anyways, well, I'm living at CW Carry. It's not too bad, actually, if you don't mind heat and cold seemingly all at once, coupled with a bunch of simpering maggot ass....ass shits!" Kelly warbled.

"You guys have to be the dumbest..." but nobody was heeding Tim. Atti was still drawing up extensive blueprints for his Lear Am, and Kelly and Cliff were mesmerized as the Celtic guy provided effect-overs to celtic songs with his 50 thousand dollar sound bank and scratch pad. Finally, they reached Winners, and all scrambled in.

"So, why are we here again?" Alana asked as the 4 walked through the doors. She had arrived earlier with Kyle and Erron.

"Just looking around. Say, how long have they sold material here?" Kelly asked, noting the new department of Winners.

"Hmmm...can't have been too long ago, I've never seen it before." Kyle told them as he and Erron arrived on scene.

"And when was the last time you were here?" Erron asked him.

"Well, never, actually. But I've looked at the front of the store many times in passing, and have never seen that particular department before."

"Fascinating...truly...HOLY CRAP! Is that a pimp hat?" Alana shouted. Cliff jumped forward, his whole life suddenly buoyed by the prospective possibility of finding a pimp hat. but alas, he was disappointed once again.

"No, no, see, the brim's not big enough." he explained.

"Oh. But that bright red would make a good pimp hat colour, right?"

"Oh, definitely. Purple would be better, but anything gaudy does the trick. Needs a feather, though."

"Oh well, sorry. Didn't mean to get your hopes...WOAH! Now THIS HAS to be PIMPWEAR!" she screamed. And this time, she had hit paydirt.

"This is the coolest shirt I have ever seen!" Cliff cried, "Man, I don't now WHAT this material is, but it feels like the stuff on pool tables! Now, if THAT doesn't say pimp, I don't know what does."

"Yo, git yo ass outta my WAY, bitch!" a large black man yelled from behind them. They all turned and saw the gaudiest human being any of them had ever physically gazed upon.

"You din't hear me none, bitch? I talkin' to YOU! git yo white ass outta my WAY! Don' make me CUT you!" he told Alana, who had been stunned at the sight of Gaud before her.

"Oh...I'm sorry..."

"Superfly. Now, lemme at dat shirt, and I be OUTTA here!" He grabbed the cool shirt, and headed towards the cashier, joining a line of similarly clad 'Superflies'.

"Holy shit! Winners is some sort of pimp haven!" Cliff blurted.

"I see you're new to our store? Well, Winners caters to any and all superpimps, since any pimp, is a winner." a store employee told him with a smile, then carried on with tagging a rack of purple long-coats.

"Well, I have seen it all...I guess we can leave now. Hey...where's Kelly?" Nobody knew, then they spotted him in the material area, and headed over to collect him and go get them some joe.

"Come on Harll...Kelly? KELLY! HEY! What the Hell's with you?" Atti asked as they arrived. He seemed pre-occupied with something he was running his fingers across repeatedly.

"Is he a friend of yours?" a sales lady asked.

"Yes."

"Well, seems he's just the latest victim to fall prey to the sensuous softness of velour."

"So, THAT'S velour." Cliff said as he reached over to touch it.

"Gnnnnaaahhhhhhggggg!" Kelly snarled as he nashed his teeth, nearly succeeding in literally making Cliff all thumbs.

"Oh, I see he's got it quite bad. I'll tell you what, we'll cut a few square feet and let him take it with him, free of charge." the woman told them.

"Thanks, that's very gracious of you."

"Oh, not really. We just don't need another velour addict taking up space in here." she told them, motioning all around them with her hand as she sliced off the section. Only then did the group notice several dozen males of various ages, scattered across the area. All of them were lying on the floor in the fetal position, stroking a chunk of velour in varying sizes, completely out of tune with the world. It was a grisly sight. Finally, she had cut off the chunk Kelly was fondling, so the others were able to lead him from the store and load him into Kyle's car.

"Ve...lour. Yes. What's that velour? Oh yes, I love you too." he mumbled to the section of cloth as they closed the door.

"Jesus Christ...well, I guess we're going to have to take him to one of those cult de-programmers." Kyle said.

"No need. Hand him over to us for a few days, and we'll have him back to normal." a voice told them from behind. They turned, and saw...

"IAN ASTBURY! Lead singer of the band that was...The Cult! (HAHA! What a great bunch of word play)" Cliff shouted.

"Yep, that's me. Anyways, now that The Cult is no more, I'm pulling a Dee Snider and going solo."

"DEE SNIDER! Ex-lead singer of Twisted Sister!" Atti shrieked.

"You guys REALLY don't need to do that, you know."

"Actually, we do. Otherwise, half our readers would be left completely in the dark here." Atti explained.

"Yeah, and they're the half who have somehow kept up with this so far. We need them to explain it to the OTHER half." Cliff added.

"I get it. Anyways, I always need new roadies, so I'll just load him into the ol' pickup and head 'er! I'll get him back in a few days, a week at the most."

"Sounds fine, Ian. Hey, while you're at it, could you teach Atti here all the words to Fire Woman? We're really getting tired of listening to him pretend to know the lyrics." Erron pleaded.

"Sorry, I'm focusing on my solo career now. Anyways, we've gotta roll. I've got a show tonight." And with a final wave of the hand, he, Kelly, and the velour were rendered...GONE. And soon, so was everyone else, with only Tim and Atti being left in the lot in the end.

"So, you feel like doing anything, Atti?" Tim asked.

"Hey, is that some sort of a gay reference? Cause I'm no fag, Tim!" Atti shot back.

"What? No, I was just honestly wondering if you wanted to do something. It wasn't a sexual comment!"

"Oh come now, poor naive Tim. EVERYTHING is a sexual comment. But I'll let that obvious homo-erotic tendency of yours slip by...THIS time. Anyway, yeah, we could...go to Lethbridge and get Liam!"¸

"Hmmm...well, I dunno, I WAS thinking of going to bed early tonight..." Tim crooned. Atti winked, understanding the code that meant 'I found a new site full of raunchy dominatrix lesbian pics and need to study them closely.' "But...what the Hell, let's go down to Lethbridge and snag the Lummer!" With the plans made, they headed out. After a quick stopover at the Millet Bi-Lo (Remember, when you're low on gas, need some munchies, or are just looking for a friendly face, Millet Bi-Lo is the place to go! Conveniently located 15 minutes south of Leduc on Highway 2A, near Ebb's Meats and one of Millet's 12 antiqueries) for gas and food at low, low Millet Bi-Lo prices, they were on their way.

"So...Tim...uhhh, what's new with you?" Atti asked, trying vainly to start up some conversation.

"Oh, ACTUALLY, I've made some fascinating discoveries pertaining to the magnetic pull of the common household dustbunny. Would you believe that for every .131 parsecs those dust globules travel, they attain a friction rate of..."

"Tim! Please! I don't want another performance of the 'why Unicron is impossible due to Physics' speech! Now, is there anything normal you'd like to discuss?" Atti yelled.

"Hmmm...normal...hmmm...I'm afraid I'm not very familiar with THAT word."

"I'm hardly surprised. Oh well, whattya say we just listen to some tunes? I managed to liberate my Mortal Kombat-80's cheeze-Best of Yanni mix tape from the car before we left it in that dead guy's field!" Atti said with gusto as he pulled the tape from his jacket and began shoving it into the tape deck of Tim's Escort.

"Interesting...but Atti, as everyone knows, that tape deck is absolutely fatal to cassettes of every ilk..." But the warning came too late to be heeded, and a high pitched squeak could be heard as the tape was mangled beyond repair. Once Atti stopped screaming like a woman, the sound of the tape squeaking while it was crinkled and torn could be heard as well."

"My tape! My beautiful tape! Your damn "car" has destroyed my tape!" Atti wailed, bashing his head repeatedly into the dash, which began to crack.

"Atti! Come on! you're wrecking my car!"

"Oh, I am not!" Atti yelled back, then smashed his head through the dashboard and came an inch from meeting Mr. Fan Belt, "Heh...well, hey, a little spackle, some scotch tape, and you'll never even know that's there! Heh heh...hmmm...say, let's crank up the radio, shall we?" Tim fired some form of retort, but it couldn't be heard as Atti turned up the volume on the radio.

"You're listening to 92.1 FM Calgary, the Kick. Now, before we start up another rollicking 5 MINUTE rock ride, let's head up to our eye in the sky over Deerfoot Trail, Capt. Carl, in the Kick FM traffic copter. So, Cappy, what's goin' on over there?"

"Wellllll...hey, I...I loves youuuu mannn. (sniff) Dere's lossss o' crashes like and some...I think thassss a cow on da road. No...waiiiit...issss a head. Huh huh...th...that guy lossss issss heaaaaa! Hahahahahaha

"Heeeeyyyy...Caaaaaaaa....aaarrllll...gots ta telll traffff...ffffic.....know?" his copilot, Co-Pilot Ron slurred over the speakers

"Hey, yoouuuuuusseeee...ssshhhuuut up. I don' liiiike yoooouuuusssss..."

"IiiiiIIiiIiiiiIIIiiIIII LLLoooOOOvesssssss yooooOOUUuuuuu maaaaaaaaaaaa'" Ron babbled.

"I...Iiii saaaiiiiiid ssshhhhut uuuuup. A'waysss...heeeeyyyy....wwwhhh....where'ssss myyyy baaackup rum? Yoo...Yoooo seeeeeen seen see...heeehh...word sounds funnniiies...yoouuu seeeens it R-R-rooonnn?"

"I.....I pooouuured it herrrreesssss...to keeep it safe...like...hic"

"Thasssss...fuueeeelll hooose. HAHAHA! Huh...yoouuu sssstupid, puts rummmmm...mmmm....mmmm...huh...innnn zaaa gazzz tanksss...."

"Uhhh...Capt....everything okay up there? Don't tell me you've been drinking again. Dammit, Cappy, you said you got some help!" the DJ shouted.

"Ssshut ups. Welll...in traffff....hh..hheeeeyyy, weeeee craaassssshhhhnn'!" After several moments of high pitched laughter, the sounds of a rotary wing aircraft hurtling towards the ground could be heard.

"Weird, how we can hear that over the radio." Tim noticed.

"Yeah. Hey, look, a bunch of lights in the sky pointed directly our way! Think that's them?" Atti shouted, pointing to the sky. It sounded like another of his 'Molson fairies', but Tim also saw it when he eventually looked. The chopper was close, and it was hurtling straight for them!

"Shit! That drunk ass willy's gonna' hit us! Bolt!" Tim shrieked, then dived out a door as they whizzed along Deerfoot Trail (aka Death Valley) at 120.

"Tim, you fool! you'll be k..." But Tim had already opened the door and leapt.

"GaaaAAAAHHH!" he screamed. He hadn't heeded the warnings...but he hadn't released his seatbelt, either! Now, the band of fabric was tightly gripping his throat. With Atti's help, he pulled himself back in, slammed the brakes, let out his belt, and they both dived out the doors. Just in time it seemed, as the kamikaze helo smashed into the Escort and both were transformed into a ball of flame and debris.

Tim finally came to 5 minutes later The blast had hurled him a good 50 meters, and another evil 20 feet atop of that. As his blurred vision cleared, he looked up to see a yellow cab. Atti was already inside, so Tim climbed into the back seat with him..

"Tim, glad to see you're okay!" Atti shouted.

"Yeah, thanks for checking on me and all." Tim grunted.

"I did! And those stitches on your cheek are MY work. Some hot chicks came over to see if we were all right, and I thought I'd impress them if they thought I was a doctor, so I stitched you up. Didn't turn out TOO bad, did they?" Atti asked the others, who Tim was just now noticing. Two black man sat in the front seats, while a big white guy was in the back. Odd...he looked a tad familiar. And he was wincing.

"Since your friend here's too much of an ass to introduce us all, I'll do it. I'm Stone Cold Steve Austin, toughest SOB in the WWF...well, the world actually. These two up front, that's Mr. Cab Driver, and this here's G, son. Boy, son, a lot of guys crossed the 3:16, and a lot of them got beat up good, but none that bad. You look like Hell, son, and that's the bottom line." the guy told him.

"Hey everyone, well, I'm Tim, and I hope someone's got a mirror, because I need to see what my "friend" here has done to me." G obliged, and soon Tim was able to look.

"You know, Atti, those stitches don't look bad. I mean, I'm not schooled in medicine, but to me, they look good." Tim remarked.

"Well, that's good. Too bad those chicks wouldn't sleep with me, though."

"Yeah, they look good. Just one little complaint I have though, Atti. See here, that one stitch there, the last one?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I'd suggest maybe, and remember, this is just a suggestion now, maybe you'd want to cut the thread still connecting the stitches to THE DAMN SEWING MACHINE!" Tim yelled. Indeed, there, hanging by a thread, was a full sized sewing machine, "You used a fucking SEWING MACHINE???"

"Well, it IS a Singer, and that's a damn fine brand name!" Atti defended himself. Finally, he gave in and cut the thread. Of course this took an hour of arguing, and by then, they were halfway to Lethbridge.

"Hey, take it easy, man. I don' wan' no troubles in the ol' cab o' love, y'dig? Hey, speak'n o' love n'all, y'ever talk to Dude Love anymore, Steve?" C.D. asked the wrestler.

"Well, son, I see that guy at all the luncheons and strawberry teas, you know, the social functions. He seems to be doin' good, and he'll stay good, so long as he doesn't cross the 3:16. You cross that, you cross me, and you're messin' with your life, son, and that's the bottom line."

"Man my face hurts." Tim whimpered.

"I betcha' it surely does, man. Too bad none o' us got no painkillaz, nothin' to stun ya' a few hours, like." G sympathized

"You say somethin' 'bout a stunner, son?" Stone Cold asked G.

"The boy here's feelin' some pain, icy one, I'se jus' sayin' we don' got nothin' to give him fo' da' pain, dig?"

"I get what you're sayin', G, and I think I can help him. Here, come over here a bit, son. Now just get your head in that headlock like that, and we'll..."

"Give dat boy 'is head back, Steve! You know the policy, no cat gonna' git stunned in the cab o' love, ya' with me like?" C.D. ordered.

"Fine!" Stone Cold shouted, let go of Tim, and crossed his arms looking out the window. He remained in a sulk until well after Tim and Atti had been dropped off outside of the condo which housed Liam, Sean, Brad and Daryl. As Tim moved forward to knock on the door, he didn't see Atti behind him, prepping himself for the horrors within. He had his respirator mask on and functioning, and the geiger counter making it's rhythmic wet cracking noise by the time Brad opened the door.

"Tim! Atti! Hey guys, we've been wondering when some of you would get down here! Come on in!" he greeted them, leading them into the home.

"Fine place you've got here Brad, so tell me...sweet mother of pearl! What IS that SMELL!" Tim wheezed, quavering from one way to the next as the odor threatened to topple him.

"Heehee...shoulda warned you about that. That's Daryl." Brad told him.

"Doesn't that BOTHER you?"

"Good lord no! The ol' factory senses get used to it after a bit, doncha' know?"

"Well...Christ, make him have a bath or something!"

"You wanna try picking him up?"

"Well, I know he's heavy, but..."

"Tim, the mass isn't the problem, great and whale like as it may be. The problem is that he hasn't moved in so long that he's actually stuck TO the carpet fibers themselves. He lay there for so long that the glue affixing the carpet to the floor beneath melted and has now fixed him to the carpeting!"

"Quite a pickle." Atti mumbled from behind the safety of his mask.

"Indeed it is, Atti. We got him free once, with the help of a 3 ton crane. We had to rent a swimming pool, and we wedged him into that. Problem is, there's not enough room there for him AND the water. Even with his all ketchup diet."

"Well Brad, ever thought of gutting him? I mean, think of the savings on power bills, if you just ran the lamps on Daryl power!" Atti suggested.

"Unfortunately he's protected by a thick crust of grime that's impenetrable by conventional means. Even the Ginsu 2 SHATTERED when we attempted to saw through the muck. Don't suppose you could sneak us some Plutonium from the U of A, Tim ol' buddy?" Brad nudged.

"Nah, they won't make THAT "mistake", as they called it, again." Tim groaned, pouting like a baby. Geez, misplace one chunk of weapons grade Plutonium, thirteen small children grow extra appendages, or in two cases, heads, and you're cut off.

"Oh well, we'll worry about that later. So, anyway, Liam's upstairs in his room. Sean should be in his room, too...but I think he's with...a girl!" (dramatic note plays here)

"SEAN?! In his room with a girl?! How'd be pull that off!" Atti expounded.

"Yeah, my parents won't let me talk to any REAL girls until I'm 30!" Tim added.

"Well, he's been dating this one for a few weeks now. I dunno, apparently Liam's complaining of noise from the room. His is right next to Sean's, doncha' know!" Brad explained.

"Well, I know I'm headin' up there right now! Wow, the chance to hear someone else having sex!" Atti screamed, bounding around like a kid who's alcoholic father has just died in a horrific one car accident.

"I think I'll just stay down here, if that's okay, Brad."

"No problem Tim, it's been awhile. So, anyway, welcome to the hovel!" Brad said.

"Good to be here, aside from the overpowering stench...mmm...is that Chinese food?" Tim asked as he headed towards a cluster of bags on the kitchen table.

"Oh, I think it WAS when we got it about 4 months ago." Brad told him, just as Tim swallowed a heaping handful of fried rice.

"Not bad. Hmmm...strange...I've never seen rice MOVE like that before...the smell must be screwing up my mind." Tim rationalized, putting down the container of rice and fattened maggots and heading back into the living room.

"Liam, hey, you in there?" Atti called through the door as he knocked.

"Yeah, Atti."

"You aren't...you know...doing anything...you know...GAY in there, are you?"# "Atti, just get the fuck in here!"

"Why, do you want me or something?"

"Atti, I just wanna see you!"

. "Ah yes, perhaps...NAKED? No, Liam, I think I'll stay out here in this comfortable hallway. Yes, that's what I'll do."

"I just got back from a Taco Bell run, Atti. Room full o' burritos!"

"I'm coming in." And with that, Atti was in the room, and had polished off six Big "Meat" burritos within a minute. "So, anyway, Tim and I are here to pick you up. Of course...that plan could be muddled a tad by the fact that neither of us possesses a working car."

"What? What happened to the Beretta? And the Escort?" Liam asked, wearing one of his incredulous faces the whole while.

"Oh...long story. You know, Coke stains, rollovers, crazy farmers, funky cabs, drunk guys in flying machines...the standard thing."

"Ah, gotcha. So...well, I guess we COULD take the bus."

"Well, just to show how much of a sport I am, Lum, I'll spring for the juices!" Atti yelled.