WWW - The Finals!
An entry into the World-Wide Wibble'97 competition. An Email
conversation between two guys who, out of concern for their right to
walk freely among the sane, we'll call "D" and "P"...
The Adventure begins....
D> I've been receiving blank E-Mail from Blank@Blank.blank.uk, and the
time/date on them is: 31/12/69 16:00. Mucho Bizarro! Is someone lost
in time and trying to contact me across the years by means of a cunning
method of electrical communication called - gasp - E-Mail! Maybe it's
me? Maybe I go back in time and try to communicate with myself but the
paradox means that the actual content of the mail doesn't reach me, as I
never typed it, because I never went back in time, er... oh blimey.
P> I have the answer, Its obviously the work of Terry Wogan. Way back
in 1969, on the eve of decimalization, before the Floral Dance killed
millions, he hatched a plan to inflict Blankety-Blank on the UK
populace. Using some kind of time-space bathtub-disintigrator he tried
to send his idea into the past so he'd reap the rewards in the future.
His evil mind rays must have took a deflection off a hippy commune and
hit your Email box...
D> The emerald one is it? By crimminy I *knew* there was something
fishy about the way he was so popular despite being so crap! I have
since realised that the Eurovision Song Contest is in fact a front for
his mind- manipulation experiments, the sole objective is to turn the
minds of the nation into cream cheese from the inside out...
P> Its him for sure, just look at that implausible wig straddling his
expanded cranium, its as phoney as Johnny Morris's supposed love of
animals. Animal Magic: My arse.. Under that unfeasible thatch lies
the key to his power. For what poses as flesh and bone is really
high-octane alien glop, with perhaps a few supermarket trollies thrown
in. The Song Contest? A cheesier production I cant imagine.
D> Case solved! Crack this one: Someone called me at 03:37 this
morning, know anything about it? Maybe it's aliens checking to see if I
was in before they come to kidnap me? It's save on petr... on
dueterium wouldn't it? Maybe they were calling from America which would
explain the weird time? Your views on this theory would be much
appreciated...
P> Hmm.. This would appear to be the work of our old enemies, the
Gangly-dragons. These spectral manifestations of corrupted java-scripts
have been known to send their electrical tendrils down phone lines in
order to suck intelligence directly out of the minds of unsuspecting
people-using-the-phone-type-situation. Victims can be easily identified
by their tendancy to buy Spice Girls records. A narrow escape for
sure..
D> Crivens! I rushed into town on receiving this message and purchased
an anti-spectral-manifestation kit from Argos, it cost me just 29.99 and
comprises one (1) pack of crisps, one (1) can of coke and one (1) copy
of Little Computer People for the Stylophone (from Rolpheroo!),
apparently you gorge on the consumables and play the style-fingy down
the phone at any alien-invader-types, perchance...
P> Yes indeed. Foolishly, I recently sold my Stylophone. Well OK, I
didnt have the actual artical but my Sportster 14.4 modem was doing such
a good job of masquerading as one that I thought it'd fool the aliens..
It must have worked cus I havent been attacked by any ionically charged
filaments of plasma as yet..
Hmm... Was the Coke you bought was of the diet variety? Sugar in the
blood decreases the skin resistance making a random hit from such an
electrostatic fibrous tenticle more likely. After all, you are now "A
chosen fruit". Its a classic Is-there-a-boil-on-the-face-of-Mars plot-
type-PP9-conspiracy..
D> Indeed it was sire, verily, verility? Er... Anyway it has been
proven as per your estemed communication or 35-past-midnight that the
CO2-laced soft fruit extract of the type "Normal" does indeed lower
resistance to electro-chemical waves, such as those generated by
alien-invader-types.
P> Those crisps! I hope they were of the Smokey Bacon variety?? The
bilious nature of the smokey-bacon types is sufficient to stop any
gestating alien taking root in the gut..
D> Negative captain, while Smokey-Bacon type crisped potatoes are all
very well for those programmer types, we HTML people are forced to
managed on low-grade Di-cheesenonion types, they are created by using
the same raw materials however, just modified in a different way, that
is all, paragraph ends..
P> Anyway, Argos was a good choice of shopping emporium. Madness once
sang; "Argos, in the middle of our steet", subliminaly implying that
actual madness could be avoided ("In the middle of our street" being
analogous to normality) by purchasing goods from Argos.. Perhaps these
ageing funsters had some insight into the activities of the gangly ones
in the murk of the past...
I confess, the copy of Little Computer People has me puzzled, I'd always
believed these so-called nodes of artificial intelligence were the
devil's spores. Perhaps the horned one doesnt like damn alien trash
muscling in on his patch and so has reprogrammed his minions (in the
special edition) to fight the alien intruder within...
D> Unlikely, but it strikes me that the layout of the Argos store is no
mistake, careful examination of the correllation of the shelves to the
customer routes indicates that it was created by a higher intelligence -
The Co-op of legend - who in their quest for perfection, modified a
transporter and charged it to wander the multiverse supplying the right
thing at the right time, perhaps a sympathetic fate?
P> Yes indeed! Placing subliminal shop-tastic messages at right angles
to the plane of the ecliptic can only have an adverse affect on the
minds of shoppers nationwide."Buy spoons", it'll have printed in reverse
in micro-dots on the back of fabric softener bottles.. "Pledge you
alledgiance" the spoons will mutter.. "Thomas the Tank Engine is EVIL"
hiss the corn-plasters. It sounds like a hideous nightmare, but Thomas
really does seem to have a sinister agenda, just listen to those
pulse-width modulated Peep-peeps - Alien comms for sure..
D> Last weeks shopping trip ended in disaster when a group of irate
chinese exchange students barged in shouting "This is Yoshi, we have NO
fax, nothing!" and waving chopsticks in the faces of the serving staff.
Such was the disruption that we were forced to evacuate on a passing
Cadburys Mini-Egg and make good our escape over the road to the safe
haven of Tesco, where we did gorge on prawns dipped in salad cream, with
bakewell tart for afters.
P> A prime example of the ingenuitiy of The Yellow Peril Freedom
Fighters. Word is they were attempting to counter the subversive alien
influences of the recent "Not Chopsticks! Spooooons!" Ambrosia TV
commericial. The YPFF are of course best remembered for thwarting an
attack of demonically possessed wheelbarrows during the great allotment
wars of '95. Topographical maps of John Noakes' forehead and the
spectral analysis of a penguin were used to create an atomic super
turnip. When this quantum veg was rolled down a nearby hill, it
neutralized the 'barrows on contact. A small blast crator of several
hundred square miles was the only collateral damage..
D> The YPFF today issued a statement to clarify a misunderstanding which
has seen citizens up and down the country attempting to force persons of
oriental origin into Post Boxes. On a recent round of "It's a Knock
Out" a member of the YPFF was heard to yell "Olinge, masta?", and then
started to sing the national anthem as applicable to vegetables and all
herring no more than 3 inches in length.
P> This seemed irrelevant wibble until the National Alien Discoverer
Society found that the directors of the UK's sole food canning company
had been replaced by androids (Alien Electronics Co. Models 27.5).
Suspicions were aroused when these dopplegangers started partaking in
tasks other than creaming off company profits into their bank accounts.
The plot was to secretly contaminate food stuffs with alien DNA at the
canning stage.. Fortunately N.A.D.S discovered that this alien goo
could be de-activated by distorted vocal oscillations. The YPFF were
tipped off and acted with amazing improvisation at the "Its a Knock Out
Special" just before tea time.
D> Many viewers rang to complain about the scenes of degradation as the
contenders chomped away on the contents of a crate marked "Outspan", but
realised they had got the wrong number when an irate voice at the other
end of the phone yelled "You wan' flied lice?".
P> "We dont expect programs to be unrealistic", said a woman at the ITC,
"but efforts to save the human race must be justified and shown at an
appropiate time". Meanwhile, the aliens were spotted slinking away
cursing and vowing revenge..
D> It has since been discovered that the canning company at the heart of
the alien conspiracy had itself been replaced with a clone without
anyone noticing. The only clue to the change was the alien's inability
to produce a perfectly cylindrical soft drink can, instead the mistake
was made of shaping them to fit the snout of natural-shap Kung, an alien
race responsible for the deaths of thousands of innocent Tamagotchi via
carefully calculated chip replacements. It is well knows in NipponCo
circles that the Virtual Pet is capable of receiving microwave
transmissions if the chip is shorted using a piece of pocket fluff.
Messages along the lines of "You're worthless, you are nothing, if an
amoeba had an opinion it would think you worthy of nothing" have been
decoded by vigilant bus conductors.
P> Not surprising as these are some of the best agents. In fact, such a
grease-ball single handedly foiled the famous "Mr Kiplings Anti-Gravity
Cakes" scam in the 70's by simply shouting "I'll get you Butler!" which
happened to be the abort code to world domination. The alien plot
centred around removing the human population of Earth by means of
dark-matter cherry-slices. Our Blakey was alerted when a swarm of apple
turnovers escaped from the local branch of the Salvation Army at a flag
day. Afterwards, several of the ladies quietly admitted to having been
concerned about the sudden low molecular density of their tambourines..
D> Today saw renewed scenes of violence in downtown Cleethorpes when a
so-called "Virtual Pet", started transmitting a series of coded messages
seemingly made up at random from the words "Kill" and "Them" in a
bizarre X-Files style attempt to take control of it's owner.
Unfortunately for the YPFF who executed the painstaking operation to
hack into Tamagotchi Central, the owner of the pet simply returned it to
the store where he bought it, complete with the original packaging and
his receipt, and got another one. This led to a battle of immense
proportions in the rejects and returns room at "Toys R' Us" as the
occupants tried to destroy each other.
P> If evidence be needed of the aliens capability to turn the minds of
our youth into mush then surely this is it. These evil toys are,
according to Herr Hans Von Vankling of the Frankfurt Alien Research
Trust, designed to make kids more accomodating to strange life forms.
The next stage of the alien plot is thought to involve a device that
encourages bizarre acts of body piercing (evidently, trial runs have
already been in progress). Eventually it'll be perfectly acceptable for
humans to implant alien critters into their bellies and tend to their
every need..
D> The Tamagotchi usually dies from a fused chip, more commonly known
as "broken heart", and this occurrs no matter how well cared for the pet
is.. Of course it only dies until the user presses the reset button on
the back, then another spirit takes up residence and starts receiving
those messages...
P> It can only further re-inforce the aliens evil mind-model. "Life is
cheap, just press a button for instant resurrection, pops" is what
they're drumming into our youth. This way they hope they wont react too
badly when their war machines finally arrive from Neo-Taiwan in the Vega
Nubula.. Word has it that their previous artillery got mixed up with a
shipment of out-of-date Kinder Surprise Eggs and so never made it past
customs...
D> It has recently emerged that more people than ever before were under
the thrall of the alien invaders when tests revealed that, as previously
expected, the Rubik's Cube and Rubik's Revenge ware botched attempts to
subdue the population by turning their brains to lard. It was said at
the time that "These things are the toys of Satan", SATAN of course
being an acronym for "Subversive And Tactical Alien Nation", a division
of Microsoft. Only around 20% of the population who actually bought the
cube were affected though, despite additional efforts through an even
more influential book, entitled "You can do the cube".
P> So Patrick Bossert was an alien spy after all! I knew he was
snivvling little shit at the time, sat there with his BBC model B, and
bluffing us all with his, "I broke my leg in a skiing accident and
started cracking the cube instead" lies! I actually bought that book -
no wonder I found it completely useless; it was just a series of
encrypted instructions to make the patterns on the cube required for
SATAN to enter the mind. Fortunately, mine was one of those fruit
labelled cubes so I had a narrow escape, even though my ears did morph
into bananas at one stage.
D> The government recently announced a scheme to treat 250,000 affected
citizens using a new "Back to Work" drug... In the United States,
scientists have discovered another symptom of infection, a wide gaping
of the mouth and clenching of teeth known as "Phony Smilieitis".
Mr.Blair and his USA counterpart Jack Nicholson are said to be looking
into the matter...
P> I believe the government is already under the influence of our
invaders-from-the-cosmos. A goverment that cracks down on greedy
directors is just so strange and novel.. There must be summat going
on....
D> I've discovered the source of the phone call. It wasnt aliens after
all, It was someone calling a wrong number! The same guy called at 7pm
(a decent hour!) and it turns out he'd dialled one up from me, I put him
straignt anyway (whaddafeck was he doing up at 3:37 anyway?)
P> I wouldnt discount the alien menace though, the recent reports of a
toe nail massacre in Chipping Sodbury and stories of imploding kebabs in
Fishbourne can only mean that, once again, the aliens have released
their wirey-arms-of-pure-energy-stuff. Why, only yesterday, a man with
a beard played a trumpet.
-End-
.------------------------.-------------------------.
| D!ck - Dick@emarkt.com | Writing for "The Word" |
|------------------------' always available from: |
| http://www.geocities.com/TimesSquare/Castle/4466 |
|--------------------------------------------------|
| P133, 40Mb, 1Gb, 512vx, Nec4x4, 14.4 (@^@) |
`----------------------------------------oOO(_)OOo-'
[Er.. after reading this I think I need a labotomy! I've read some
weird stuff in my time (mostly from Kenco) but this takes the biscuit!
You guys must really have a wild imagination or there is something
seriously wrong in your cerebral cortex. Kei]
end
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