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RADIO S.O.S. EMPIER THREAD / BAR AND GRILL
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| Damn straight! It even tickles!! |
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Nar, that's just an IMMORTAL COOKIE in your stomach. You might want to get that looked at - tickling's just stage 1, you won't be laughing for long. 
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#376
by Citizen KitWanker - 9/8/2004 9:03:38 PM
As SuperFly would say, oh my freakin' tummy I'm so bloateeeeeed... 
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##################################################
THE ADVENTURES OF KIT WANKER
##################################################
High noon - dust spirals in the baking sun. A lone gunman stands tall, stark, dark against the shanty buildings that make up Sentinel.
Silence. A lone tumbleweed rolls struggles mournfully in the dust.
Lord Evil Steve dismounts and stands.
The lone gunman, the infamous Kit Wanker, calls out.
KIT WANKER
This here is a one-horse town, Lord Evil Steve
Lord Evil Steve took his word for it and left.
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#381
by Veteran MM77 - 9/9/2004 2:58:32 AM
| Lord Evil Steve took his word for it and left. |
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 Nothing to rustle.
Ta! Da! 
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#382
by Veteran MM77 - 9/9/2004 3:03:32 AM
I'll catch you guys later.I'm starting to Wanker! for a Sheep!
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#383
by Citizen KitWanker - 9/9/2004 1:46:57 PM
pineapple juice... oh good, something that adds some kick in that mix. 
and it's amazing how much fun y'all have with a wanker.
*snicker*
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| I'm starting to Wanker! for a Sheep! |
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rustle
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#386
by Veteran MM77 - 9/10/2004 10:54:06 AM
Why dose the MAN FROM W.A.N.K.E.R. song sound like the Mission Imposible song!?
[Message Edited]
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I'm looking FORWARD to the MAN FROM W.A.N.K.E.R. story...  I ENJOY a STIFF ONE! Just like the rest of YOU! 
In the meantime I think I may collect some of my GREATEST HIT'S and GRACE our CLUB with them.
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#390
by Veteran MM77 - 9/10/2004 12:41:04 PM
I'M wearing my WANKER APPROVED! JockStrap!....... Nice and ROOMIE!
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#391
by Veteran MM77 - 9/10/2004 4:06:27 PM
I gotta get a GRIP! here.
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This thread should be posted with a XXX warning on the title
           
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Or a label reading "Loss of sanity is to be expected. Beware."
    
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zip......
MAN FROM W.A.N.K.E.R.
part 2
GALLOP GALLOP GALLOP GALLOP GALLOP
NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH
HOLD FAST THERE YOU UNPROTECTED YOUNG WENCH - ALL ALONE IN SLEEPY HOLLOW WITH RUBY RED LIPS, A PERSPIRING FOREHEAD AND A HEAVING BOSOM - FOR I HAVE SOME SNOGGING TO DO
*oh captain flash! you're a very naughty boy!*
THAT'S RIGHT INNOCENT WENCH. FEEL THE POWER OF MY PRODICIOUS CODPIECE FOR IT HAS ROBBED A THOUSAND VICTIMS OF THEIR CHASTITY
*oh captain, i heard you were powerful man is these here parts, but now that i can see your parts......*
BLEAT BLEAT
BLEAT BLEAT
DAMN AND HELLFIRE. THE S.H.E.E.P. PHONE
zip
CAPTAIN FLASH HERE. YES. YES. GOOD GOD MAN!
NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH
GALLOP GALLOP GALLOP GALLOP GALLOP
flash - a ha - saviour of the universe
flash - a ha - he'll save everyone of us
*lordy captain, was that a mobile phone in a sock in your prodigious codpiece*
[Message Edited]
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##################################################
THE ADVENTURES OF KIT WANKER
##################################################
Chapter 1: Nothing Happens
The streets of Skowbo were quiet. Eerily quiet. Mothers were locking up their daughters, and daughters were locking up their pets. The reason was simple: Kit Wanker, the Wicked Wanker of the West, was in town. Fortunately for the daughters (and their pets), Kit was not looking for "company" right now - he had some serious drinking to do first. As usual, Kit's nose led the way.
"I love the smell of psychotropics in the morning. Smells like... the SOS Bar and Grill."
Kit Wanker had a nose for finding the cheapest drinks on any given planet, so in no time at all, he was standing in front of that famous bar. He looked at the old swinging western doors for a moment, then ripped off his space-pirate face, put on his cowboy face, and walked in. The first thing that caught Kit's eye was the bartender, but that's hardly surprising. It's not every day you see a MEGA-PREZ serving drinks. And MM77 was hard to miss, especially as he was pounding a Oscar Wanker sausage with a sledgehammer.
"WANKER!" shouted MM77. The bartender dropped the sledgehammer, hopped onto the counter and burst into song.
"Wan-ker! Kitty Kitty Wan-ker,
Kitty Kitty Wan-ker, WE LOVE YOU!"
Kit interrupted the bartender before he got too carried away with his "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang" routine.
"Easy, tiger. I'm just moseying on through this here saloon."
"No, NO! Youve gotta STAY! Listen to the MUZAK! Back with another of those BLOCK ROCKIN' BEATS!!!"
MM77 turned up the radio, and Kit was instantly enthralled. He stared ahead blankly, then started swinging his head in time with the music. (Kit was easily amused.)
"SOO... whatll it be, PARTNA?" inquired the Prez.
Without blinking, Kit replied "A shot of pineapple juice."
Someone in the back of the bar snickered. Another one muttered, "Girlie drink."
Kit snapped out of his hypnotic state - his gunslinger instincts told him trouble was brewing. He had to put the fear of GODLING into these hicks, and he knew only one way how. He reached across the bar, and swiped the bottle of pineapple juice. Everyone watched in amazement as Kit slowly drained the entire bottle, then held it up in triumph. After that display, Kit thought no-one would dare challenge him - and he was right. As the atmosphere returned to normal, MM77 grabbed his sledgehammer and went back to work.
"What's with the Oscar Wanker sausage? Can I have one?", asked Kit.
MM77 shook his head vigorously. "It's not (BAM) quite round (BAM)... it's gotta be (BAM) perfect!"
"Ah, it don't have to be perfect, mate."
MM77 stopped pounding and looked up. In a beautiful melodic voice, he said "Perfection is a journey, not a destination." Then, he screamed "It's a JOURNEY! A %!$#ING JOURNEY!!!", and went back to smashing his poor sausage.
Kit backed away slowly, then glanced around the bar, looking for some familiar faces. He saw Quack and CypherPax sitting in a corner, and headed towards them with a grin. As he approached the table, however, he thought he'd made a mistake. The duck was scratching itself more than Quack ever did (and had an even bigger body odour problem), while the Bundaberg bear was dunking its head in a bucket of blue paint.
"Quackster? That you?"
The twitching duck looked up, and nodded eagerly.
"Kitty-Kit-Kit! What's doing?"
"Same old, same old. Still smuggling booze?"
"I've got a new product on the market - Ceti Alphan Brain Eels! You see, their young enter through the ears and wrap themselves around the cerebral cortex... it tickles, you know."
"Ooh, sounds like a big seller. Where's your farm?"
Lord Quack thumped his chest proudly, then leaned into Kit Wanker's shoulder.
"You can't trust soil.", he muttered. "Hiding things. Always hiding things. Why do you think people bury things in the soil? Cause it always takes, takes, and NEVER gives back, not ever! It won't take my babies from me, no sir!"
The duck smacked himself in the head, and started scratching furiously.
"Of course, they're not quite domesticated.", he added.
"You sure that's not head-lice? Maybe you need to wash your feathers or something."
"No, no, they're real brain eels, I'll prove it!" Quack started grabbing at his feathers, but without luck. "Never one around when you need them..." he muttered to himself.
Kit turned his attention to the silent Bundaberg bear (which was half-blue, half-white by now). "Is that CypherPax?"
"Oh, no, nooo..." replied Lord Quack. "I'll give you a clue. Hey, MM! You want something from our friend here?"
"I'm starting to Wanker! for a Sheep!"
The bar fell silent, and all eyes turned to the bear. The bear stopped painting itself, and sat there quietly.
"What's happening?" asked Kit as he looked around.
"Ssh", whispered Quack. "Ssh, listen and you shall hear..."
Kit stood still, listening for a clue. At first, there was nothing. Then he heard it. A sound, like leaves blowing in the wind. Kit recognized it for what it was - the sound of rustling.
A sheep suddenly stuck its head out from under the bear's table, kicked the table over, and ran around the bar. MM77 grinned, grabbed the sheep, and took it into a back room. The rest of the patrons applauded the bear's mastery of rustling.
Kit remained standing, mouth agape. That was the quietest rustle Kit had ever heard, and the bear hadn't even moved! There was only one rustler in the galaxy with that level of skill.
"LORD EVIL STEVE", said Kit Wanker as he bowed down with a flourish. "I am honoured to be in your presence."
The bear nodded, and went back to painting itself blue.
"He's a bit quieter than usual, isn't he?" asked Kit.
"He's trying to get into character." replied the duck.
"MMMMMM!!!! THIS COOKIE IS SCRUMPTIOUS!!! GAAA-GOB-GOB-GOB-GOB-AAAH!!!!" shouted the blue bear as he ripped apart a drink coaster with his bare teeth. The bear then went quiet again, leaving Kit Wanker and Lord Quack to talk by themselves.
"A cookie monster? Not a very good costume, is it?"
"It's the best he could get at short notice."
"Why isn't he crunching bricks yet?"
"The dentures don't arrive till Wednesday."
"Ah. Anything else happening around here?"
"Nar, not much."
Chapter 2 - Something Happens
It had been half an hour since Kit Wanker sculled the bottle of pineapple juice, and he was well and truly juiced up by now. As the crowd cheered and threw jockstraps, Kit bowed, climbed back on the table, and sang another classic song in his repertoire.
"Once a jolly wanker
Pulled out his ding-a-dong
Under the shade of a porn magazine
And he sang as he watched
And waited till his billy boiled
You'll come a-wanking ma-tilda with me
Wanking ma-tilda, wanking ma-tilda
You'll come a wanking ma-tilda with me
And he sang as he watched and pulled out his ding-a-dong
You'll come a wanking ma-tilda with me."
(Any complaints about this song should be directed to Kit Wanker.)
The applause was louder than ever. Kit considered dropping his pants for a second, but he was content to sit on the table and eat dirty beer nuts. Suddenly, a red light started flashing above the bar.
"Whahsshat lite meen?" slurred the vicious wanker.
"Something's happening."
"(hic) 'Bout time too."
The swinging bar doors were suddenly blown off their hinges, never to swing again. (Rest in peace, you swinging swingers, you princes of swing.) As the dust cleared, five men in stylish combat armor marched into the bar, with guns trained on all the patrons.
"Ooh, lookit! Vio-lint nutterz."
"Could use a few more of 'em around. Can never have too many psychopaths. Sign-up sheet's in the corner, lads."
The strangers were not amused. Their leader screamed, "TASTE POLICE! DON'T MOVE!"
No-one moved. Then, Lord Quack jumped up, grinned, and grabbed his crotch triumphantly. "Got you, you little bastard!", he screamed as he pulled out a brain-eel and waved it around. All the strangers aimed their weapons at him.
"DROP THE BRAIN EEL - NOW!"
"What's your problem? I've got a concealed-carry permit for these, somewhere down here..." he said as he want back to groping himself.
"DROP IT OR WE DROP YOU!"
The duck sighed, put the brain eel under his armpit, and giggled to himself as the eel crawled around. Everyone else remained quiet - except for one certain gunslinger who stank of pineapple juice.
"Pfft - taste poleeze? Schmaste poleeze. Piss off. What are you supposed to be, some sorta Fab Five?"
Their leader scoffed and sneered. "Don't be stupid. We've got nothing to do with them. We're the Butch Five. We travel around the galaxy, and offer suggestions on how people can improve themselves."
He cocked his rifle, and pointed it at Kit Wanker.
"We just don't take no for an answer."
As two of the five covered the crowd, the other three moved forward, and started judging Kit's fashion sense.
"I just LOVE the free-spirited theme of your clothes, but you've let it go way too far."
"And you'll never impress your 'lady-friends' with language like that."
"Oh, lordy, no. You need some new music to charm your sweetheart. Know any Bocelli?"
"Look at that stubble! That greasy skin! You are seriously lacking in skin care products."
Kit stood there uneasily as the fashionistas prodded him.
"So, um, you guys are gonna buy me some new clothes, help tidy up my bachelor pad, is that it?"
"Oh, sure, sure! Of course, we'll have to lock you up for a few years, make sure the message gets through. You can do a bit of community service while you're at it. Ten years of beauty school will fix you up in no time."
Kit's eyes opened wide, and he sobered right up. He'd heard about beauty school. (Jail has stories about dropping the soap. Beauty school has stories about dropping the soap, hairspray, nail polish, conditioner, mascara... ) He needed all his wits about him if he was gonna get out of this with his balls intact.
"So, um, I'm a wanted man, am I?"
"Oh yes. Haven't you seen the posters?"
Kit blushed at the thought of himself on a poster. "Little old me? On a wanted poster? Wow, I've always wanted to see my face on one of them. Could I have a look? Please? Pretty please?"
One of the taste-cops gave in, and pulled out a poster. It had a photo of Kit robbing a bank while wearing a balaclava (and nothing else), with the following description:
W A N T E D:
KIT WANKER,
THE WICKED WANKER OF THE WEST,
(AKA THE GREASY INFIDEL)
ON CHARGES OF:
MURDER
PIRACY
INDECENT EXPOSURE
IMPERSONATING A CUCUMBER
CARRYING ON LIKE A BIT OF A WANKER, REALLY
"Well, I say, that's rather crass, isn't it? Did you have to use that photo?"
"You walk around with your pants off more often than not. We thought we'd get a better ID."
"True, true - but you didn't have to describe everything I did. You'll give people ideas. That's a bit - dare I say it - tasteless."
Kit pulled out a stinky finger, and pointed it squarely at the Butch Five.
"YOU have been spreading filth around this neighbourhood!", he boomed. "You must do your duty, and arrest yourselves! But you can't let yourselves interfere with your arrest of me, so you'll have to use DEADLY FORCE against yourselves! And QUICK SMART!"
A sheep ran out from behind the counter, followed by a very angry looking MM77.
"Dammit, what's with the SCREEMIN?!? You INTARUPTED me! What the HELL is goin on?!?!?"
Kit sat down, stretched out, and watched the Butch Five, who were in a team huddle.
"I'm waiting for them to explode. You know, infinite loops and all that. Or shoot themselves in the head, at least. Whatever works."
"Them? I've dealt with them before. They're not friggin ROBOTS. They're just WANKERS!!!"
The Butch Five snapped their necks in unison, and stared at MM77. Their leader took a step forward, and he didn't look happy.
"Again with that word! We've been listening to you people carry on all the way here, and we're SICK of IT! We thought we could civilize you one at a time, starting with Kit - but the decay's too strong! And YOU, MM77, you're at the center of everything! You - this whole place - you're, you're a blight on civilization! We're gonna fix this once and for all! We've got some WEAPONS OF MASS SOPHISTICATION in our cruiser. One shot, and you'll be totally brainwashed! Eating with napkins! Wearing matching socks!"
MM77 didn't tolerate that sort of talk in his bar. He pulled out a wombat gun (*), and aimed it at the intruders, but they just laughed.
(* M79 40mm grenade launcher. This weapon is not manufactured or endorsed by Wild Wombat Enterprises.)
"We've faced rednecks, militants, and homophobes. They couldn't stop us. Neither can you! We'll have you fully cultured in no time."
MM77 knew in an instant that this was true. He dropped the wombat gun, as panic began to set in. His bar, his whole world was slipping away from him. He felt under the bar with his fingertips, looking for something, anything he could use to defend what he'd built here.
Then he found it.
He thought for a moment about using it. He'd promised himself that he'd never toy with it again - and he remembered the problems this, this THING, had caused last time it had been out in the open. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and it was this or nothing. And so, MM77 took a deep breath, pulled out a can, and yelled
"IT'S TIME TO OPEN A CAN OF WHOOP ASS. GODLING WHOOP ASS!"
Before the Butch Five could react, MM77 shook the CANNED GODLING, and cracked the seal, grinning like a maniac the whole time...
WILL THE "SOULLESS MINIONS OF ORTHODOXY" PREVAIL?
OR WILL THEY BE DEFEATED BY THE NOT-"SOULLESS MINIONS OF ORTHODOXY"?
WHICH ONES ARE THE "SOULLESS MINIONS OF ORTHODOXY", ANYWAY?
FIND OUT, UM, SOMETIME REAL SOON!!! AS SOON AS SOMEONE ELSE WRITES IT, IN FACT!!!
[Message Edited]
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#397
by Citizen KitWanker - 9/11/2004 2:39:40 PM
| (Any complaints about this song should be directed to Kit Wanker.) |
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*raises a finger in warning to the growing crowd
Don't even think about it! 
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WE IZ COOKIEIN' WIV GAS!
NNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH
GALLOP GALLOP GALLOP
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