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Post by unomusette on Aug 31, 2015 19:31:37 GMT
Hmm, shouldn't we be defending Dum... er, Damey's honour here? I do like the way Helmut83 is analysing this tale, of course you're completely right when you say that a cow is not normally seen as an instant threat. Apart from the red eyes of course, but that only happens when Bev has stirred her up and she could always wear those aviators to hide them I got the Psycow idea from a birthday card I had this year, I'll try and get the image onto photobucket and post it here
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Post by unomusette on Aug 31, 2015 20:25:18 GMT
Here you go, I'd saved it with another hilarious card, guess which one it is.... Actually there may be an opening for the kitten at some point in the tale too, who knows?
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Post by Helmut83 on Aug 31, 2015 22:06:04 GMT
There may be some opening the kitten you said? Uh, no... I got confused by the Psycow's shadow. Hhhmmm... those teaser hints... I wonder what the other ninja groupie has in store for us.
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Post by unomusette on Aug 31, 2015 22:09:06 GMT
I wonder what she has in store too, exciting isn't it? Oh, and you know what's coming for wilfully misunderstanding my kitten teaser
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Post by BSJ on Aug 31, 2015 22:34:58 GMT
eeewwwwwww......
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Post by BSJ on Nov 21, 2015 21:25:45 GMT
I knew what the last few sentences were before I started writing the following chapters of: “The True Chronicles of Highness Lord Dame Jeff, Genius Lynne” I just needed to get there! But our beloved cast of characters kept meddling with their capers! So this installment was going its own merry way until someone stronger than me stomped his foot.
Chapter One Jeffery Lynne, this is your life
Highness Lord Dame Jeff, Genius Lynne has a choke hold on Paul “No Clue” McCartney’s neck and is violently shaking him.
With one more head rolling shake Lord Dame let’s go of a barely conscious drooling No Clue and drops him. Taking a step back and getting ready to… “What’s that loud pounding!? Bloody ‘ell!” Damey flutters his eyes open and moans, “Just when me wish were coming true!” Grumbling, Our Hero, a fan of siestas, lifts his head off the soundboard, fiddles with his aviators and shoos Lucyfer off his lap. Rubbing the red indent marks on his whiskery face, Lord Dame shuffles to the front door with a put out Lucyfer following adjusting her tattered Mohawk style silver tinsel wig. At the door Lord Dame lifts his shades for a quick peek through his aviator shaped peephole, no one there. Baffled he opens it. There’s a tug on his suit pants. Looking down Damey sees a snickering custard cup, “You’ve been served!” it shrieks in a high sticky sweet voice, and shoves a lumpy, damp, milky colored pink star shape envelope in Jeff, Genius’s hand. A growling Lucyfer lunges at the cup ripping off its foil lid. With custard flying from its top the cup dashes down Damey’s drive splatting Lucyfer, who’s close behind. The mangled cup jumps on top of a large crate and hops over a fence, but not before losing its wooden spoon to Lucyfer’s snapping jaws. The blinding blizzard of sliver tinsel blowing out of the pink star envelope blew Our Hero outdoors seeking better light. Shaking out tinsel stuck in his hair sprayed crusted head; he reads what’s in the damp envelope. “Oh bloody, ‘ell!” “ Lucy! Get over ‘ere!” Lord Dame yells, waving the pink envelope and causing more tinsel to pile around him. “You’re gonna love this one!” Lucyfer, with the treasured spoon tucked under the tattered wig, is curled around Damey’s feet licking the custard off her while listening to Jeff read the letter with about as much interest as she grants a dying flea. Dear Jeff Linen Congratulations! You are a winner! Your name was written on a large sheet of paper folded once and then thrown in a Fred Astaire top hat. Nikko VIII, some monkey claiming to be of blood to the original Nikko, (who was leader of the flying henchmonkey’s of the evil Wicked Witch of the West in the beloved movie “The Wizard of Oz”) was blind-folded and after a few attempts the VIII monkey found your sheet and pulled it out! We are thrilled to tell you that you have a star embedded in “The Bollywood Walk of Shame”! With a twitch of Botox enthusiasm, Team Bollywood Silence. The deadly hide and watch type! The classic leg pull to the chest move is made. Annnnd….. Hoooold it….. Annnnd…. A STOMP from a petulant man baby foot sends tremors through the hills of LA! Tsunami sirens blare. “I CAN’T HAVE THIS!!”“A bloody publicity stunt,” Damey groans, “Anyone can have a “Star” if they find the right palm to grease!” Ready to kick some Brummie butt, Damey rips his favorite spare shades out of his suit pocket and chucks them down the drive. “Lucy, I’m being pimped out again!” Miserably shaking his head Damey softly says, “Me manager is mixing me up with dead or dying stars, ex-stars or desperate soon to be ex-stars. Money making machine. Get them while they’re still breathing, or before their wills go through probate.” Stapled on the back of the announcement is another letter with cow shape watermarks and a black and white spotted border. The message has been copied so many times the letters are wavy and distorted.
Dear Mr, Mrs, Ms, Miss, or Other____ Jet Flynn (scribbled in serial killer scrawl) We are sorry to inform you that the check we received from a Horace Wimp was made from the finest rubber. Please take care of this sooner than later, or your name will be sand blasted off the star*. Yours, (don’t screw with us) and with kindest regards,
Team R, R & D
*This time can ya pay in unmark bills. It was plainly written out in the entry form section titled “How To Do Your Own Laundry”.
“I’ve a tour in the works and I’m TIRED of it all already!!” Jeff, Genius shouts, shoving the announcement and threating letter at Lucyfer, who’s in a sugar coma lying on her back with all four paws in the air. Lord Dame is now mashing the papers together. “Is it a small wonder why it’s taken me so bloody long to put out an album? It’s already a nightmare!” When hearing another madding intake of breath, and knowing she’s had enough crazy for the day, Lucyfer snaps out of the coma and bolts for the backyard to gnaw on her treasure in peace. But wait! Look at this! Tattooed on her right paw is the word, “You’re” and on the left, “Next” in elegant bold Midnight Blue calligraphy. Way too much sugar aside, there clearly is something up with this custard!
“AND FOR HELUMT’S SAKE, THEY MISSPELLED ME NAME TWICE! I CAN’T HAVE THIS!!” roared Lord Dame. “Where are me Aviator Shade Wearing Ninja Groupies!? I need makeup applied in all the wrong places! Bloody ‘ell, I’m missing me elevensies, too! And where has Horace been this week! There’s a crate at the end of the drive that he’s to bring up! Tired of it!” *flings crumbled papers across the room* And Damey stomps off to look for his ninja’s.
Is he the dude panhandling in front of Jeff’s star on “The Walk of Shame” wearing a Jeff Lynne mask, aviators, ELO Time T-shirt with an ELO patch and button pinned on the front? Attached to a rope around his neck is a framed Jeff Lynne autograph swinging and bumping against his back. Trying to muscle through the pain of rope burns and gagging, a hysteric Horace Wimp is also waving a blue cardboard violin sign over his head that reads: Please! Don't walk away! I’m so alone! They’re in for the kill. Please HELP a fellow ELO super fan! Very few coins are thrown in Horace’s handmade ELO spaceship on wheels, built around a kid’s red radio flyer wagon, blasting out ELO tunes. Wrapped around this “spaceship” are multicolored LDCs and strobes flashing off and on. A few small disco balls are whirling and shooting out illuminations. It is a truly embarrassing spectacle! *Sigh* You are in such a whirl of jefflynnenut trouble, Our H W!!
smiley-cool15 smiley-cool15 smiley-cool15 smiley-cool15 Chapter Two
A Precarious Showdown (next post!)
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Post by BSJ on Nov 21, 2015 22:44:18 GMT
Chapter TwoQueens of DenialMeanwhile Damey’s ninja groupies are wrestling with the large crate and each other. One is pulling the other is pushing. Well, not quite. The one pulling realizes the other has crawled on top and is acting out a favorite fantasy.
She’s on her belly with crossed ankles rocking. She’s surrounded by Mohawk style silver tinsel wig wearing bronzed, lean, 12 packed, gorgeous warriors holding silver tinseled spears at the ready. And fanning her with feathers from the most exotic and endangered birds? More of the same. Dozens of Crocodiles, wearing Mohawk style silver tinsel beaded wigs, swim alongside. She has serpent rings on every finger and toe, their ruby eyes glow. She peels grapes. She’s the face of her time with those Liz Taylor sphinx eyes. What headdress did she chose today? The golden falcon with matching gold winged cape or, depending on her mood, the one with a crown of swaying Asps? “Where’s the fun in life? Schlepping, catch and fetch, milk and bread? Is this the way my life’s meant to be?” pouts our poor Saucey.
*THUMP* the front end of the crate is dropped. “Hey Cleo! While you’re daydreaming of carpet bazaars, I’m going to get H W’s red wagon.”
“Hey Octavian!” a shipwrecked Saucey stands up and snaps. “Last I saw H W he was running with it from Damey’s garden shed. That wagon was so full it was a struggle to keep it upright. I waved but he was distracted. It was obvious something was worrying him, and in such a hurry as if the henchcats were chasing him from the gates of hell.”
After making its way through croc infested waters, the crate is safely docked in Damey’s living room.
“No! No! Easy opening the crate, who knows what it's in, you silly ninja!”
“Humfff… try and help…” Saucey glums and dumps in a removable leopard print upholstery swivel chair and spins.
Really getting tired of having to be the one directing everyone’s life and explain the obvious, BSJ stops the spinning chair and smacks Saucey upside the head. “You see this logo of a laughing cow with daisies around its neck?”
“Well, I’m going in” snips a dizzy and daring Saucey. “Go for it,” said BSJ with a dismissive hand wave. “I can’t stand it…” Saucey does a disoriented gander around the crate and reads out, “Wrap rage zip line no nails needed tape. “Easy peasy,” Saucey says rubbing her hands. “Out of me way, BSJ!” … Why do I bother,” Our BSJ sighs, and steps back. The stench of rotted cream sets them both on their butts. Saucey tumbles to the front door and opens it. Crawling back to the crate, a shaky Saucey grabs up a side and falls half way in. Trying to right herself, she throws out stinking mucky straw, boxes of eyeliner and mascara (she also thinks that there might be something worth saving). “We are screwed.” BSJ found a soggy cow shape invoice on the lid. “Bev “The Mad Cow Custard King” Bevan has somehow shanghaied our new makeup order form from… what’s their name again Saucey? Saucey!” Looking down BSJ sees Saucey’s kicking legs hanging out of the crate. “For Helmut’s sake, get out of there!" BSJ hisses. "The matter with you! Thought your dumpster diving days were over!” BSJ then grabs Saucey’s legs and flips the rest of her inside. From inside the crate BSJ hears Saucey hurling curses on the head of her twin ninja, and that it was time for a “Come to Saucey talk.” When in a fight Saucey always wants the clear shot, so very regally she stands and wades through the muck. With a steely ninja death stare, she tells BSJ the name of the company.
Saucey has BSJ on high ninja assassination alert. “You sure that’s not the new law firm after us?” BSJ slowly asks Saucey, collecting her wits for what’s coming.
“Now step up BSJ!” Saucey screams, menacingly waving her wet hood over her head as she steps out of the crate toward BSJ. The spinning wet stinking hood causes BSJ to back away from it's flying stinky liquid. “You’re the one that licks the stamps! It’s the same firm as usual! Damey’s new attorney at Horace Wimps, Mumblin' & Fumblin' Great Life Plan Law Firm (used to be a life insurance company) didn’t want a nervous breakdown like the last ten. So, instead of negotiating with all the U.S.A. law firms one at a time (and we’re not too shy to brag international firms as well! ) he requested there be only one firm he needs deal with who handles all suits, indictments and settlements against us, and that’s still Raptor, Raptor and Darling! One last wave and Saucey throws her wet hood at BSJ!
In a crouch the ninja groupies are circling each other. They place the balls of their feet lightly on the floor as they balance from one foot to the other. Small sliver implements of danger appear out of nowhere and flash in their hands.
Our Saucey Welsh Saucey executes the ancient “Side Order of Yoko’s Dragon Lady Tofu Sauce” taught by Hip Hop, (sliver belt in the arts, of course) but BSJ leaps up and flies over Saucey. Landing, BSJ smoothly spins out into the “George Takei Sushi Takeout Special of the Week” striking Saucey’s right back knee. Saucey falls rolls to a stand turns and throws a sliver sharpen eyeliner wand at her twin’s chest. With lighting ninja speed BSJ grabs the wand in mid-flight! The dagger that follows catches BSJ’s hood pinning her to a wall. Saucey approaches unwinding her garrote… BSJ slides out of her hood with stars at the ready…! But the counterattacks are stopped by their Lord Dame’s commanding roar for his ninja’s that cuts through the stench and halts what was turning into a nasty “Ninja Groupie Throw Down”! Duty calls. All weapons - stars, daggers, wands, makeup cases, and garrotes are slid back in their leather leg wraps. BSJ instructs Saucey to take their overindulged Princess upstairs while she digs up proper makeup. Both keep a wary eye on their ninja twin as they slowly walk backward out of the room.
In the middle of the battle Lucyfer cruised through to show off her new tat’s and stopped to watch the show. Half a minute in she made a condescending sneer, snarled “Amateurs” and left to find something more interesting to get into. “I dooooo wonder if McCartney is hanging around,” she thinks with an evil grin.
Chapter Three Is he?
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Post by BSJ on Nov 22, 2015 0:20:11 GMT
Chapter ThreeHello My Old Friend Ringo is peddling his Peace & Love Yellow Submarine bike on his way to Bungalow Palace and belting out...
He wants Jeff to know that if the tour is cancelled, he’s more than happy to have his best mate join his “All Starr Band”. Ringo Muses. But if Jeff wants to play that tired old song Mr Blue Sky, all bets are off. Tough as the negotiations will be, Mr Lynne needs learn to respect his elders! Showing off when he turns on the Palace drive, Ringo and his submarine do a front flip with a half twist, and stick the landing! Alarmed when seeing a sprinkled tinseled outline of pretty big pointed shoes, the aviators on the ground and the wide open front door, he rushes in. The mound of silver tinsel, crumbled papers, empty crate, stinking straw and all types of eyeliners and mascaras lying around puts Ringo in a panic. He starts a search through Bungalow Palace! Hearing someone singing, “If it’s free, it’s for me… Doooooo,” to the tune of “Hey Jude” from the kitchen, Ringo hurries in and finds none other than Paul “No Clue” McCartney sitting at Jeff’s kitchen table clearly enjoying tea eating a Fried Peanut Butter & Jelly samwich. “McCartney, what are you doing here!? Who let you in, and why is the screen off that window!?” Ringo cries out in jaw dropping astonishment. “Dooooooo…!” squeals a startled No Clue who drops the samwich. “Wha!? Well ‘ello Ringo! Gave me a fright – thought it was that wretched she devil coming back to attack my hair.” Ringo notes, “Shouldn’t wonder, old boy, you do have a cat tail hanging off the side.” Curling the tail around his ear and caressing his battle scarred hair, No Clue ignores him and prattles on, “Well, I was headed for the garden shed when I smelled fried food and seeing a tea spread out through that open window, I took the liberty to crawl through said window and help myself. “Pour you a tea? Dooooooo…?” No Clue graciously asks waving his hand over the hijacked feast. Like a lion tamer, Ringo is poking a chair at No Clue who’s trying to shove a plate of samwichs at him. “For the love of Helmut get that foul food away from me!” Ringo throws the chair at No Clue and shouts, “Come on! Do you know where Jeff is, Paul?” Skipping over the now sliding chair, No Clue walks back to the table and picks up another samwich, “How ‘bout a Ham, Jam and Spam samwich, Ringo? It’s the latest thing. No? Dooooooo…??” After taking a bite of this confusion fusion samwich, inspired by someone who drinks cheap wine and won’t eat moldy cheese, No Clue tells Ringo he’s there, “To take back a few things I left in the garden shed when I shot my instructional video, “The Shortcut to Cooking on Behalf of Washing Dishes”.“What does that title even mean, Paul!?” an exasperated Richard Starkey asks. “Is this the old, “I’m a Beatle, don’t question me” swindle?” And anywho, remember Fred and Hip Hop had to finish it. Something about you drifting into Julia Child Land and they were stuck with the dish washing part? You know ‘bots are not suited for water! On top of his balance problem, Fred now has the jimmie legs! He has trouble rolling forward without swaying. For Helmut’s sakes Paul! Stevie Riks has more credibly teachin’ how to do something as you than, you as you!”
J Child
“Keep your voice down, Ringo!” fearful No Clue whispers. “Jeff has walls filled with microphones afraid he’s going to miss a unique sound, and I don’t want to be one of them. You know how cinchy he is with royalties! Besides, I don’t think he likes me. After Heather threw her plastic leg at him because he thought it funny to trip her, he stopped inviting me in the Palace for tea. It’s always set up in the garden shed on a broken down no wheel wheelbarrow with a Marine Plywood top, and a scary spidery cactus for ambiance.” McCartney points “Are those herb bottles really baby cams?” “McCartney, knock it off! Help me here!” Paul raises a finger indicating he needs to finish chewing a mouthful of HJ&S. Sticky tongue unstuck by a slurp of tea, No Clue says, “Ok, ok, don’t get your knickers in a knot! Let’s see.” Raising his freshly plucked money making right eyebrow, No Clue offers, “Jeff could be messing about producing someone. I’d check, but you never know where those ninja’s bunk, and always sneaking up on you. You know they’re that type that throws things at you for no reason!” No Clue shivers *brrrrrr….* “So you don’t know anything about the open front door and all that mess in the living room?” Licking samwich off his fingers, No Clue say’s “Dooooooo…? Oh, why no thank you, enough tea for me. You can finish it.” “McCartney, you lame brain!” Ringo is beside himself. “Can you try to take an interest in something other than yourself!?” Ringo shakes Jeff’s favorite spare aviators at No Clue. “Paul! Jeff never throws these unless he’s really vexed, riled, irk, ticked-off, honked-off and/or pissed-off!” “*Tsk*… that Jet can be so careless at times,” says an indifferent No Clue, digging at his gums with a toothpick. “McCartney get the ‘ell out before I make sure you die with your knees bent. Hold on?” Ringo cocks his head toward the outer rooms, listening. “What’s that noise?” In mocked horror with wide open eyes, he mouths, “Ninja’s!? “ A quivering No Clue squeals “Dooooooo…..!!!?” After shoving a plate full of FPB&J’s & HJ&S’s in his pockets, he says, “Well, best be on my way!” And Paul “No Clue” McCartney crawls back through the knocked out screen window and runs to the garden shed with the cat tail flying behind. smiley-cool15 smiley-cool15 smiley-cool15 smiley-cool15
Chapter Four And the good decisions continue to be made
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Post by BSJ on Nov 22, 2015 2:41:28 GMT
Chapter Four They’ve taken Dameys body, and are playing to win
Running upstairs with arms crammed full of eyeliners and mascaras, BSJ hears a muffled shriek abruptly cut off. She’s wearing the sliver spanking slippers and does a slider into Lord Dame’s boudoir. The load of makeup makes it hard to maneuver and she slides on through crashing into Damey’s bed shoving off Saucey, who was straddling Damey’s back airbrushing a stencil of a milky pink star on his right butt cheek. Saucey loses her grip on the airbrush and the ceiling is now being coated in pink. The eyeliners, mascaras and BSJ crash on the floor. Crawling up through the pile of makeup, BSJ, with forced calm, asks Saucey, “Give you a hand with Damey, me precious ninja sister?”
“No. I was trying to put the final touches on that star,” a testy Saucey replies, trying to control the airbrush, “So happy he stopped thrashing.”
BSJ is anxious. Knowing it’s a correct assumption expecting the worse when an unsupervised Saucey is involved, but not wanting to give her a good spanking until this is a known fact, waits it out.
Now standing, BSJ is holding the sliver spanking slippers and shooting Saucey stink eyes.
A trapped Saucey throws Damey under the bus, “Well it was Beardy’s special request!”
“Oooooh?” BSJ inquires with exaggerated interest. “Is this sooooo?” *smack* *smack* *smack* is the sound of slippers hitting BSJ's palm. “Did he say why he wanted a star?”
“I want me manager to kiss me ass”, or at least I think that’s what he said,” Saucey sheepishly answers. Looking anywhere but at her ninja twin, she adds, “It was hard to hear through the oxygen mask.”
“Oxygen mask!? Why you little…!
Glancing up Saucey mummers, “Uh, oh,” and ducks the flipping silver spanking slippers aimed at her head.
“Saucey! Didn’t he say the safe word of the day?” A freaked BSJ is trying to roll Damey on his back. On the count of three… heave-ho! A passed out Damey is breathing heavily, gasping.
“I forgot what it was! This new manual lost its plot; the safe word section wasn’t there to fill in. And, I think there’s something wrong with this pink custard paint. It’s inferior, low on radioactivity, the star might turn into a branding, and it has a funky….”
“Saucey if you had stopped when he started screaming he wouldn’t need the mask!”
“Oh, that! Heh, heh… that has nothing to do with the star, the mask was put on earlier. The custard burn put him over the edge. Mr “My Body is a Wonderland” was well on his way there anyway.
“How can you and Mr Ding-dong be so reckless?” Jabbing her finger in Saucey’s shoulder, BSJ yells,
*PLOP* A glob of the pink custard paint falls on BSJ’s head and runs down her ninja hood like melting ice cream. It sizzles. Time freezes. Breath is seen. All the dropped eyeliners and mascaras, “Xanadu No Will Power Black”, “Ready Red” (for all crannies and crevices) “Jolly Trolley Folly #10538”, “Razzmatazz Topaz” and “Electric Lime Oblivion”, rise up swirl around BSJ before shooting over passed-out Damey’s belly toward Saucey. Saucey screams with wicked glee and makes for the bed sheets. But before her head is covered and the first wave hits, suggests that, “Maybe Fred can carry the oxygen tanks!” The ninja’s have learned through the years that no one in their right mind should be in the vicinity when an abused Lord Dame, Genius wakes. So the partners in crime quickly swap out the oxygen tanks and an ELO space ship bandage is lovely placed on a very special Brummie bum. Then the two ninja cowards sneak away trying to avoid each other’s sucker punches.
Ringo is in the livin’ room hangin’ with the ‘bots swappin’ lies, when at the open front door are noticed two hands gripping the frame, and a head, with swishing cat tail, is gently peeking around them. A downhearted ‘coooooooo… is heard. “Come on in, Paul,” Ringo waves him in, “It’s okay, no one here to hurt you. You look upset.” No Clue’s tearing puppy eyes are staring at the floor. “My stage lighting was nicked!” he laments wiping his eyes with the now hissing tail. “I had to save a ton of Beatrice’s cereal box tops to get those!” Just when someone, for once, gives a fat rat’s ass about No Clue and starts to show sympathy, the Ninja’s crash in.
“Ringo!” a breathless Saucey cries, “Bev “The Mad Custard King” Bevan is trying to do harm to Our Jeff!” Looking down his large schnozzle at them, and with raised eye brows, Snarky Starkey says, “Really? You are kidding me. Juuuust the Custard King?” Ignoring the Snark, Saucey prattles on, “The eyeliner & mascara that came in that crate is a carcinogen! The pink custard spray paint I used for the star on his bum may scar! Bevey even tampered with the safe word page and Damey’s favorite game “Blind Man’s Wand” is………”
“No, no, stop, I will leave!” Ringo shouts. Ears covered he sings “TMI! TMI! La, la, la, la, la, I can’t heeeeear you! La, la, la, la, la!”
“Check this out, Ringo.” Pulling Ringo’s hand off his ears, BSJ drags him to the crate. “See that rubbed out label reading “Return, Unfit for Purpose, too much poison?” BSJ turns to Fred, “Tell Ringo what went on in your interworking’s last year. Keeping the naughty cords out, please.”
Getting ready, Fred (who taught computer sciences at UCLA before becoming a robot rock god) puts on his horn rimmed aviator glasses and asks Hip Hop for a glass of water with “Lemon and a straw, please” He thanks Hip Hop who genuflections and raises a sliver braided PVC hose arm in acknowledgement, (“Did he raise more than his arm?” Fred wonders.) Keeping a half eye on the brat, Fred takes a few sips through the straw, and after blowing a pile up of bubbles in the glass, he starts his lecture on:
“The Wonders of Bitcoins”! A while ago a Bitcoin account was downloaded to my mainframe. Not knowing who sent it, but understanding the word “coin” and as “Rebate-hunter” McCartney says “If it’s free, it’s for me”, I left it alone. Later this unknown source hacked the encrypting code, duplicated the coins and placed them in an account for the Mad Custard King, who then used them for the purchase of the Provision Depository. Because the amount offered was mind-blowing and the contact was attached to the Bitcoins, the owners accepted both as soon as they received them. Those duplicates were worthless and in time vanished. Now that this trickery has been exposed, the ex-owners, Tarquin, Elvis and Thor have made their Cayman Island into a resort and spa for ladies who are legally considered Barbie dolls because of the massive amounts of Botox and Silicone in their bodies, to help pay the bills.
Swiveling his head, Fred zeros in on everyone in the room, “You all know what we need to do,” he coolly says in his pre-rock god professor’s manner. All know that they have to go the Depository to stop Bev “The Mad Custard King” from doing major destruction to Our Lord Dame Jeff, Genius Lynne!
Chapter Five Is Lord Dame Jeff, Genius Lynne "Bad To The Bone"?
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Post by BSJ on Nov 22, 2015 22:45:55 GMT
Chapter Five Wild West Hero
“The Battle of Marston Moor” marches on Our Hero’s cell. Ripping off the oxygen mask he reaches out and starts patting the surrounding area. A few fumbles, a few saves, Dame Jeff clamps the phone to his ear, “’ello? Yes, this is he,” gasping for air. Opening his eyes he sees drops of pink raining from the ceiling and pooling around him. Wildly looking around he panics, “Bloody ‘ell! Where am I!” Rolling on his belly, he chokes into the phone, “What is going down!? Wait… where…? The Eyeliner & Mascara & Stenciling Provision Depository!? Who!? Bev and killer Psycows? Me Aviator Shade Wearing Ninja’s Groupies are there!? Any robots and scrappy four pawers with them? Oh bloody ‘ell… Ringo and Paul are that stupid to be mixed up with me ninja’s!?” “Bev and Psycows!? Jeff whispers twice in wonderment. Our blissed out Lord tries to maintain. “Damn that Saucey! I know pure oxygen heightens the experience, but not knock you out!! What did I miss!? And why’s me bloody bum burning!?” Rubbing his eyes he thinks, “I can’t even begin to comprehend! Wait!? That’s a familiar voice!” Frantically he huffs more oxygen and wheezes into the phone, “Who is this!?” Bzzzzzzzzzzzzz…………
While Geo was trying to make Jeff aware of the world of misery that awaits him, Johnny was being held hostage by Yoko who was warbling through his Bluetooth ear phone making him guess which song she’s screeching. “Wha’ d’ya think, Geo?” trying to hand him the ‘tooth, “Is this her rendition of Boogie 2 or 1?” Geo, who secretly craves for a slice of Roy O’s 10 angel wings award winning Death by Chocolate cake, rolls his eyes, “What can it possibly matter? Do you really expect me to believe you’ve known what she’s been caterwauling all those years ago?” *OMMMM* *tinka* *OMMMM* *tinka* *OMMMM* *tinka* *pinka*, with minor feedback, Geo shuts down the cosmic Wi-Fi.
Geo is concerned that Jeff is stuck in the ‘70’s, “He should be practicing for what happens on stage, not in the hotel room!”
”Geo,” Johnny says, “You’re still jealous of Lynne’s signature evening, “Steppin’ Out” smoky eye look, his lush black plush eye lashes, and sparkly Luminous Pink eyeliner, aren’t you? It’s all bigheadedness with this guy; he’s just blowing smoke (ha!). But remember! In our day mind blowing bonfires were made using our records! We had the world in an apocalypse fit because of our racy lyrics. Not whining about some lame backward messages, “Plant a tree”? “Thank-you for listening”? Good heavens! Woman and children first! Forget makeup, that’s for sissy Mary’s! Jeff wishes he were that bad ass! Come on Geo, let’s get this over with.”
Patting the confused Geo on the back while pouring him tea and surprising him with a slice of Roy O’s award winning cake, Johnny tells him, “Well, hate to tell ya mate, but we forgot one letter in the A through G plan – D for Dummies! We miscalculated Drummer Boy and we’re right back where we started saving Jeff’s cocktail of personality disorders from harm.”
Geo MUSED on this while enjoying O’s masterpiece, and after licking the plate clean he snaps his fingers and proudly cries, "I've got it! Let’s have Bolan gear up Ma-Ma-Ma Belle. Bevan cannot but help join in and his attention will be distracted until Jeff arrives.” Johnny agrees, “Good call, Geo! This might stop Bolan’s relentless touchiness.”
After giving Geo a wet wipe for his chocolaty and crumbly mustache, Johnny yells, “Hey, Cosmic Dancer, get your bloody finger out of that cake and scoot over here! Did you bring that guitar?” Bolan, who’s trying to be a 21st century man by wearing his hair in a man bun, floats over with suspicion; they know he swiped his guitar back from Jeff, so he hides it behind his back. “I’m only borrowing it,” he lies. “Non-issue,” says Johnny, “No one wants you to give it back. It will ruin the running old jokes and the hilarious new ones to come.”
“On my cue you are to play Ma-Ma-Ma Belle!” Geo explains to Bolan. “I’m in! I’m on it!” says an excited Marc who does a Vlog dance ‘round the nearest kitchen table! He soars off to practice.
Marc Bolan is more than eager to be in on the game, they’ve reined in his desires long enough! A glammed up, glittered up, pimped out, top hat wearing Bolan cranks out jamming on the celebrated 1953 Gibson Firebird. He sits cross legged on a white swan floating in loops throughout the depository. Not long after Bolan sings the first “…I will get you!” the faces of Jeff Lynne painted on Bev Bevan’s tom-toms are heard being beaten into submission! In acknowledgment of their talent, legendary guitar player and drummer then serenade each other to the T Rex hit “Get It on Bang a Gong”.
Now the inside of 'The Eyeliner & Mascara & Stenciling Provision Depository" is just as horrifying as the outside. Even finding out that the obnoxious number of outside turrets are papier-mache doesn’t lessen the scary. The inside is thick full of howls and screams with marauding bands of henchrats roaming this den of iniquity, and cess pool of piracy. But wait! It’s just a quick jaunt through metal detectors, barred iron gates, under barbed wire, down long halls deep inside, up narrow metal staircases, down the same and through deadbolt doors that pops you right into the main plant in a jiffy!! Instead of a town crier crying, “OYEZ! OYEZ! OYZE!”, Our Hero enters the plant to the classy intro of another Brummie gem “Crazy Train”! Again, it’s a monkey island debacle Our Jeff needs to clean up! A few steps in the smell, the noise, the mass chaos has him wanting to run back to his double parked spaceship. A guitar looping and grooving and squealing and barking out ear-splitting notes floating overhead make Damey see all the monitors showing Bev “The Mad Custard King” Bevan in his lair attacking his drums with deafening reverberating beats that has Elsie the Hormonal Cow, painted on his bass drum, breakin’ down on the “Pop, Lock & Drop It”. Let’s see, what else is happin’…
He’s just time to see Paul, who a moment ago, was swinging from the ceiling kicking his legs up to avoid the electrified Psycow beneath, drop on the mad cow, that then started bucking like a bronco causing Paul’s hairpiece to dig its claws in between weedy hair plugs and screech.
Trying to avoid electrocution from a pack of Gar tattooed wearing Psycows horns, Fred and Hip Hop are flying! They’re doing wheelies and leaving skid tracks circling a poisonous makeup vat. Oh, no! Fred’s balance problem and his jimmie legs kick in taking him down. He slides under the vat and spinning out the other side he hits that pack of Psycows legs, causing them to fall, crash and burn! And there’s loud thumping from evil letterpress’s printing out posters advertising signing dates for Bev Bevan’s autobiography, “My Totally Unfair, My Oppression, My Ultimate Triumph – The Memoirs of an Unsung Genius” (“Don’t let this one roll away! A edgy, gripping and heroic tour de force… There are passages of true beauty” – Collecting Loose Marbles Magazine). And large, long banners for the Depository gift shop advertising their “Big Moooo Closeout Sale!”, are being printed out in a stinking, sickening pink boiled buttermilk ink.
There’s Lucyfer dressed as her hero, Commander “Monty” Montgomery, discussing blitzkrieg tactics with her 21st “battalion” of Henchcats. A beret is on top of Monty’s tattered Mohawk style silver tinsel wig, being held in place by raised eyebrows and head steadying tiptoe walk. Monty’s battalion is lined up and standing at attention! Tiptoeing, tiptoeing, back and forth, back and forth, the wide eyed, non-blinking, teary eyed Monty snarls,
"No reason stretching your necks up, you're the ankle biters in this battle!"
Growling and hissing, they slowly make their way toward the metal staircase that leads to the Mad Kings Lair. A frenzied madman Ringo is on his Yellow Submarine bike trying to corral a galloping herd of Psycows headed for Our Hero. As he zooms past Jeff, Ringo executes a successful overhead toss of Jeff’s favorite spare aviators to him. Like a Light Saber, Lord Dame Jeff, Genius Lynne raises them up… The wind shifts.
In the middle of a rare scorching drum solo, dazzling multi-colored aviators burst out from the wall of monitors in the Mad Custard King’s lair reflecting off Bev’s cymbals, blinding him. His sticks freeze in midair. He jerks up! That domineering overlord presence of Lord Dame is sensed. Bevey’s nose quivers at that familiar scent of excessive use of mascara, eyeliner and hairspray. Yes, there is no doubt his nemesis, that bearded poltroon Lynne is in the depository. Bev’s droopy eyes shift back and forth - he’s being hunted. The monitors clear and now show Our Hero fighting his way through the mayhem to the Mad Kings Lair.
“Noooooo…...!!!” After the waving of arms, spinning in circles on his drum stool, and beating “Fire On High” on top his noodle, The Mad Custard King is now standing on a removable zebra print upholstery swivel chair shouting a tirade through a microphone on it's self-heating arm. Egotistic: “One of the greatest drummers reduced to an occasional cymbal hit, then made obsolete by a drum machine!” (Well, he does have a legit bitch. It’s a pass.) Pleading: “I’m in foreclosure here! Because my products kill them, I have no returning customers!” Nautical: *weeping uncontrollably* Righteous: “Unjustly deprived of minimal intelligence!” Thespian (Jack Nicolson): “Heeeeere’s Bevey!” Pointless: “I feel vindicated by the wearing of proper footwear.” Then, it never fails - Religious: “Blessed exorcism! I’m casting you out demon! Take a powder!”
“Oh for the love of Helmut!” Our Hero seethes, “Another nut job Bevan, worse than when he wigged out in the Queens Palace. “Bloody ‘ell! He’s nothing more than a school yard bully who steals lunch money from 5 year olds!” Royally pissed Jeff Lynne bitches,
"I’M TIRED OF IT! I CAN’T HAVE THIS!”
In a blind flurry Our Hero runs up the metal stairs and with one kick the locked screen door flies open into The Mad Custard King’s lair! Bevy scrambles to his kit. Blocking his way to Bevan is that tacky removable zebra print upholstery swivel chair. Our Hero wrestles it off its bolts and throws it through a stained glass bay window, depicting Bevan being knighted by King Geo III, into a toxic gurgling vat below. He now has a clear shot at The Mad King who’s waving his sticks back and forth toward the floor demanding imperiously, “Do not come any closer, I draw the line, I draw the line here!” Our Hero ignores this stupid order and the Custard King’s imperiousness turns to terror. Throwing his sticks up in the air, he dives into the bass drum. Lord Dame starts destroying Bev’s kit. Cymbals are Frisbees, cowbells moo, and tambourines clank. Like the mighty Hercules Our Hero picks up and throws the tom-toms into the wall of monitors. With the bass drum over his head, the Custard King makes a desperate break for the door dodging the flying debris. He’s not quick enough; Jeff catches up and trips the King, who dives to the floor and slides head first through the drum head making Elsie’s daisy chain his own. Jeff grabs Bevan by his legs and drags him out. “YOU!” roars Jeff Lynne yanking Bev Bevan up by an ear, “COME WITH ME!” Bevey punching air, trying to fight free, sobs, “ME? Anytime I get involved with you it never ends well!” Finis.
WAIT!!
What? The Ninja Groupies! Where were they? They never miss a good tussle!
Oh, I’m sorry! They need cool their heels until interested parties lose interest.
Do tell!
Well, seems the last go around in court did not happen as planned. All those years of constant objections, flimsy precepts, backroom deals and paid off jurors, drove judges to kick Damey’s attorneys out of their courtroom and warned never darken them again. This made it impossible for prosecutors to find a judge who would have anything to do with the ninja groupie’s suits. Even Supreme Court Justices pleaded off! Well, the gals had been living on borrowed time, because a few years ago a very dangerous prosecutor, who only goes by the initials TVW, became a very dangerous judge.
That Vela Woman!
When a prosecutor TVW dealt with them innumerable times and a death wish against our ninja twins was born. Low all those years as a prosecutor, and now judge, TVW bided her time and wasted the best years of her life until she found an archaic "shaky" law that blindsided their new attorney. Barrister Otto was no match when, at him, she threw this shaky law and the hundreds of boxes filled with files and index cards, and PowerPoints and whiteboards crammed with diagrams, that she had compiled on our out of control ninja groupie twins. What was the verdict!?
Community service!
*GASP!*
They are to be shipped to a faraway land to work as volunteers, for zillion of years, at a complaint department for a cable & telephone company!
*GULP!* Where are they now!?
A “CRATE AWAY”! The ninja’s are sailing the high seas to Tarquin, Elvis and Thor’s Cayman Island resort. They stocked up on cheap reds & whites, FPBJ’s &HJS’s, popcorn, many boxes of make-up for ballast, and decked out the inside with hammocks, teddy bears and posters of their Lord Damey. They hope to teach a Ninja Gorilla Combat Master Class, called “Extreme Techniques for Eyeliner & Her Sister Mascara for Rock Stars”. The first class is “How to Ignore Their Discomfort”. And, for those that don’t make the cut, Ninja aerobics will be offered. Postcards are promised.
God speed our Aviator Shade Wearing Ninja Groupies.
Finis!!
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Post by Horacewimp on Feb 14, 2016 17:48:56 GMT
Five chapters BSJ this is like a novel, I've read chapter one and I'm already in trouble (nothing changes!) It's a brilliant chronicle, time to read on, I hope I'm not killed off in Chapter two.
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Post by Horacewimp on Feb 14, 2016 19:24:28 GMT
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Post by unomusette on Feb 14, 2016 19:58:11 GMT
What the....hold on a gosh durned minute, was all this utter brilliance posted last November and I missed it? I am MORTIFIED. Not to mention MYSTIFIED. Also Miffed, BeMused and Bewildered (there's a song title there I think, or did someone already write it?)
Anyways, apart from all that, after a first frantic gallop through it is the kind of creation for which the term "masterpiece" was coined. Everyone's in it for a start, plus the action is fast and furious and sparkly and the Lord Dame himself has a spectacular starring role that's made me fall for him all over again, swoon!
I am in awe and shock (not necessarily in that order) and hoping to be forgiven if I've been rudely unaware of this for THREE FLIPPIN' MONTHS!!! GAHH! I would blush becomingly but this is not something I can actually do so picture me wearing my usual tomato-red face of shame.....
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Post by Horacewimp on Feb 14, 2016 20:09:38 GMT
You didn't miss it unomusette the forum fairies have only just had permission to release it from a dark lost corner of the Internet
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Post by Helmut83 on Feb 14, 2016 20:10:24 GMT
Wow! And it's a whole lot of material! And with those photos with commentary! It seems so promising, I can't wait to get my eyes on this, but typical, the day BSJ finally releases them I have a family appointment (why on a Sunday, BSJ??? Why???).
Tonight I'm going to read it when I get back.
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