More Futurisitic Fun Than You Really Wanted, part I of V

[East Coast Hustle]

Wow, that was fucking awesome. I totally did not see that end coming.

[LMNO]

I'm amazed you all have managed to wrest a plot arc out of this.

EoC, Charley, Khara, Roger, and all the rest... MOTHERFUCKING STORY TIME.

[Eater of Clowns]

Thanks all.  Really glad you enjoyed them.   

My favorite part of the project is weaving all the little details together with the various contributors.  Since it isn't under any one person's control, it's the good kind of challenge to take those limitations and really try to make them work.

I'm actually gushing with geekery about the whole thing and could probably go on forever about how cool this is, so I'll stop and let this motherfucker keep rolling on.

[LMNO]

(Perhaps this needs some explaining... The idea was to show how whatever it is going on has captured the public's imagination, as can be seen in the Billboard Hot 100.  Obviously, if this was to be used, a much better shoop would be needed.)

[Luna]

Explainey bit not needed, I got it.  Nice!

[Luna]

Cross posting for the hell of it:

[Dysfunctional Cunt]

I'm kind of running with my tangent, so this may be out of context a bit.



June 12, 1946

Dear Delia,

I arrived yesterday and got checked into the hotel as planned.  The trip so far has been very smooth.  I went to the hospital, but they had no information about my brother or his family.  According to them there were no survivors of the bombing that destroyed the farm and surrounding area.  I went by the cemetery as well but there are probably 300 unmarked graves and the priest's record keeping is questionable.

I'm meeting with the barrister in the morning to handle any paperwork.  You'll remember his letter said it was all a formality since Da left the farm to my brother and me both when he passed. After that I'm meeting with that Sergeant Wimmer who wrote to me about the farm when the military came in and took over last year.  I left flowers on my parent's grave when I was at the cemetery today.  I miss you and our beautiful daughter.  I'll update tomorrow when I have more.

June 14, 1946

My Darling Delia,

I couldn't write to you yesterday.  By the time I made it back to the hotel it was all I could do to stay awake.  The farm is completely gone.  I mean the land is there of course, but every building, tree and bush is gone.  The bombing in this area destroyed everything.  Every surrounding farm is empty of buildings as well.  

According to Sergeant Wimmer, the German's completely took out the entire area in one night of bombing.  There were no survivors.  Everyone I knew, everyone I grew up with, they are all gone.  I walked every inch of this farm I grew up on and can barely recognize it.

If we moved back here Delia, we'd have to rebuild everything from the ground up.  We'd even have to dig a new well.  Every well in the area imploded during the bombing.  

I'm going out again tomorrow to walk the land again.  I'm wondering Delia if this wasn't a crazy idea to move back and raise our kids here.  Fresh air and farm living aside, it will be a hard life for a few years.  

I'm going to send this, I really want to know how you feel about this.  Send me a telegram as soon as you get this and tell me if you want to do this.

All my love to you and our beautiful daughter.

Thomas

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TELEGRAM

Dear Thomas *stop* Got your letter today *stop* I think we should either sell land or save for our children *stop* I am expecting again *stop* Miss you *stop* Come home as soon as you can *stop* All my love Cordelia


TELEGRAM

Darling Cordelia *stop* Coming home right away *stop*  Have one last meeting with Sgt Wimmer at farm *stop*  Will see you in a week *stop*  You are wonderful *stop*  I love you *stop*  Thomas


TELEGRAM   

Major Hickland Bermuda Garrison *stop* they can tunnel from underground *stop*  Found remains of T Carmichal at family farm *stop*  Target eliminated *stop*  need to replace loss of 10 men *stop*  Sgt Wimmer

TELEGRAM

Sergeant Wimmer *stop*  sending men *stop*  salt water has not proven effective as deterrent *stop*  leaving for new location *stop*  will advise *stop*  writing widow in states *stop*  evacuate civilians from entire 20 mile area *stop*  landmine retrieval necessary for area *stop*  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

July 1, 1946

Her Majesty's Armed Forces
Bermuda Garrison
Major James Hickland

Dear Mrs. Thomas Carmichal:

It is with great sadness that I regret to inform you your husband Thomas Carmichal was killed on June 29, 1946.  He had been at his family's farm when it appears he stepped on a land mine that was left by the Germans during the war.  It is unfortunate, but we were forced to bury his remains immediately due to possible contamination.

As a result of this terrible accident, troops have been assigned to the entire area to retrieve any explosive devices to make this area safe for rehabitation.  We will inform you when your farm is habitable again.

Again, our sincerest condolences on your loss.

Very truly yours,

Major James Hickland
HMAF – Bermuda Garrison

[Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.]

"Excuse me, Sir."

The voice was polite. Concerned. Urgent. But polite. I ignore it.

"You, there, Sir!"

Persistent. Still polite but irritation is creeping in.

"Hey there!"

Quickly escalating to anger and desperation. This could be a situation.

"Stop walking away from me, you cock-sucker. I know what you are and I'm trying to fucking help you!

Ah. There it is. The subject is confirmed a risk. Time to engage and assess.

"Man, what is your problem? I've been chasing you for a block and a half trying to get your attention. You may be dressed in regular clothes but I see how you move and how your eyes move. And I see that god damn shit on your wrist that ain't no watch. You're looking for those things that are taking us off the streets."

"You'll have to forgive me, I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about." Fuck. An observant one. Subject may actually have viable intel.

"Yeah, I figured you'd spout some shit like that. Rank and file, nothing to see here. I been in the service, not like yours, but service anyway. I know all about the cloak-and-dagger bullshit they feed you boys. You just remember, I may be expendable but so are you. If you want to keep your fucking head on your god damn starchy shoulders, listen up and pass this on to your superiors."

"Do you require some assistance? Some change? I think I have a fiver in my pocket." Judging by the increasing agitation, I believe the subject understands the parameters of this exchange and the likely outcome. And yet the subject persists.

"Keep your fucking money, punk. Listen. They are in the god damn pipes. There are varieties, now. Not just hurking monsters that gobble up grown men. Thin, whippy-like. Like anorexic squid. We saw one in an abandoned fountain and another come out of a fire hydrant. Complete creatures, not just pieces. They were useless on dry land, needed water to move around. But they're fast and there's some sort of secretion. It burns real good, if they dry out. If they don't just choke you to death and bathe in your goddamn blood. They've found a new way to spread, son. You pass that on."

Conviction, sincerity, and determined acceptance. The subject expects to be terminated. But we require more data and a secure location to extract it. "Sir, you sound pretty upset. Why don't you come with me and I'll buy you a cup of coffee?" Ah, surprise and trepidation. Hmm.

"Well I guess I came this far, I should go the whole way."

"Just so, Sir. Taxi!" Further analysis of subject and subject's data to commence.

[BabylonHoruv]

Transcript on an interview with Max Masochism, the lead singer of Wholly Pain

So where did you get the idea for Nessie's song?

Well the building I live in's real old right?  And the basement is sunk deep.  The laundry is down there, and I heard this crazy sound whenever I was doing my laundry.  I thought it was the machines.  I took some microphones down there and tried to record them, but it was all wish and wash. 

I did my best to recreate it with a synth, but it just wasn't the same.  I was sad, cause it was just this beautiful haunting sound right?  But then, one night I heard what sounded like it, and it was coming from one of those grates that water drains down into the sewer from.

The first microphone I tried hanging down there disappeared, the sound on the tape was almost like something bit it off, but I managed to get one up higher and got that sound.  I had to mix it real carefully, try to get some of the water sounds and people walking out and all.

So why did you call it Nessie's song?

Well you know those Paynite folks?  They say there's monsters down in the sewers, they call them Nessies, say they have a holy mission to go down and fight them.

My mate joined up not too long back and he told me all sorts of bollocks about it all.  I haven't heard from him since he joined up proper and the song was sort of meant as tribute to him.  Enter into his fantasy as a sort of way of remembering him you know?

So you don't believe in the Nessies?

No no, not at all.  It's just a story like Springheel Jack or UFO's or what have you.  I wrote songs about those too actually, but they didn't seem to get as popular.

[Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.]

I like it. Nicely done, Babs.

[Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.]

Martha tucked her five-year-old son into his bright blue coat and put his shoes on the right feet before lacing them up. She smiled at her little darling as he grinned up at her, all dimples.

"Come along, James, it's market day. Mummy's taking you down to the park and then we'll go shopping. You'll be a good boy and stay with Mummy, won't you?"

" 'es Mumma!" James wriggled free of her hug and raced to the door, his little legs flying as his piercing giggles filled their apartment.

With a laugh, she chased after her little racer, grabbing her purse and coat off their hook as she passed. "Run faster, Jamesy! Mummy's right behind you!"

He beat her to the door and she scooped him up, covering him with kisses. Then she opened the door, locked it, and set out to enjoy the first truly gorgeous day of Spring.

.. .. .. .. ..

"Here we are, James! Mayflower Park. Stay close to Mummy until we get there, darling."

"Wanna look at the water, Mumma! Lookit the birdies!"

Martha shaded her eyes and noted with interest the column of gulls out over the water. "Pretty, aren't they, Jamesy?"

"Wanna lookit!" James laughed and took off running again, straight towards the open water away from the park and towards the docks.

"Jamesy! Wait for Mummy!"

She chuckled to herself and went after her boy. After such a long and dreary winter it was so nice to see him enthusiastic about being outside.

Abruptly the gulls changed direction and sped away, slicing through the air. James shrieked his delight, hopping up and down. Martha reached his side, still a safe distance from the water, and clapped her hands.

"Pretty birds, Mumma!"

"Aren't they, James?"

She caught his hand and turned back to the park. "Come along, James. Let's go to the park, now."

"Okay, Mumma!"

He trotted along beside her, happily singing a nonsense song about pretty birds. She smiled and wiped away a spatter of water on her cheek. Rain? No, she noted with relief. The sky was still clear. Spray from the quay? A glance over her shoulder and she stumbled.

"Careful, Mumma. Don't get a boo-boo." James said, hugging her leg.

"Jamesy, how about a race with Mummy? You and I will run for the park and whoever gets there first gets to pick what flavor of ice cream we have after our shopping is done. What do you say?"

"Okay Mumma!"

And James was off, his little legs flying as he raced for the park. His giggles filling the air.

"Run faster, Jamesy! Mummy's right behind you!"

ETA: Adjusted Jamesy's age to put him in school.

[Don Coyote]

Martha tucked her three-year-old son into his bright blue coat and put his shoes on the right feet before lacing them up. She smiled at her little darling as he grinned up at her, all dimples.

"Come along, James, it's market day. Mummy's taking you down to the park and then we'll go shopping. You'll be a good boy and stay with Mummy, won't you?"

" 'es Mumma!" James wriggled free of her hug and raced to the door, his little legs flying as his piercing giggles filled their apartment.

With a laugh, she chased after her little racer, grabbing her purse and coat off their hook as she passed. "Run faster, Jamesy! Mummy's right behind you!"

He beat her to the door and she scooped him up, covering him with kisses. Then she opened the door, locked it, and set out to enjoy the first truly gorgeous day of Spring.

.. .. .. .. ..

"Here we are, James! Mayflower Park. Stay close to Mummy until we get there, darling."

"Wanna look at the water, Mumma! Lookit the birdies!"

Martha shaded her eyes and noted with interest the column of gulls out over the water. "Pretty, aren't they, Jamesy?"

"Wanna lookit!" James laughed and took off running again, straight towards the open water away from the park and towards the docks.

"Jamesy! Wait for Mummy!"

She chuckled to herself and went after her boy. After such a long and dreary winter it was so nice to see him enthusiastic about being outside.

Abruptly the gulls changed direction and sped away, slicing through the air. James shrieked his delight, hopping up and down. Martha reached his side, still a safe distance from the water, and clapped her hands.

"Pretty birds, Mumma!"

"Aren't they, James?"

She caught his hand and turned back to the park. "Come along, James. Let's go to the park, now."

"Okay, Mumma!"

He trotted along beside her, happily singing a nonsense song about pretty birds. She smiled and wiped away a spatter of water on her cheek. Rain? No, she noted with relief. The sky was still clear. Spray from the quay? A glance over her shoulder and she stumbled.

"Careful, Mumma. Don't get a boo-boo." James said, hugging her leg.

"Jamesy, how about a race with Mummy? You and I will run for the park and whoever gets there first gets to pick what flavor of ice cream we have after our shopping is done. What do you say?"

"Okay Mumma!"

And James was off, his little legs flying as he raced for the park. His giggles filling the air.

"Run faster, Jamesy! Mummy's right behind you!"

[The Good Reverend Roger]

Martha tucked her three-year-old son into his bright blue coat and put his shoes on the right feet before lacing them up. She smiled at her little darling as he grinned up at her, all dimples.

"Come along, James, it's market day. Mummy's taking you down to the park and then we'll go shopping. You'll be a good boy and stay with Mummy, won't you?"

" 'es Mumma!" James wriggled free of her hug and raced to the door, his little legs flying as his piercing giggles filled their apartment.

With a laugh, she chased after her little racer, grabbing her purse and coat off their hook as she passed. "Run faster, Jamesy! Mummy's right behind you!"

He beat her to the door and she scooped him up, covering him with kisses. Then she opened the door, locked it, and set out to enjoy the first truly gorgeous day of Spring.

.. .. .. .. ..

"Here we are, James! Mayflower Park. Stay close to Mummy until we get there, darling."

"Wanna look at the water, Mumma! Lookit the birdies!"

Martha shaded her eyes and noted with interest the column of gulls out over the water. "Pretty, aren't they, Jamesy?"

"Wanna lookit!" James laughed and took off running again, straight towards the open water away from the park and towards the docks.

"Jamesy! Wait for Mummy!"

She chuckled to herself and went after her boy. After such a long and dreary winter it was so nice to see him enthusiastic about being outside.

Abruptly the gulls changed direction and sped away, slicing through the air. James shrieked his delight, hopping up and down. Martha reached his side, still a safe distance from the water, and clapped her hands.

"Pretty birds, Mumma!"

"Aren't they, James?"

She caught his hand and turned back to the park. "Come along, James. Let's go to the park, now."

"Okay, Mumma!"

He trotted along beside her, happily singing a nonsense song about pretty birds. She smiled and wiped away a spatter of water on her cheek. Rain? No, she noted with relief. The sky was still clear. Spray from the quay? A glance over her shoulder and she stumbled.

"Careful, Mumma. Don't get a boo-boo." James said, hugging her leg.

"Jamesy, how about a race with Mummy? You and I will run for the park and whoever gets there first gets to pick what flavor of ice cream we have after our shopping is done. What do you say?"

"Okay Mumma!"

And James was off, his little legs flying as he raced for the park. His giggles filling the air.

"Run faster, Jamesy! Mummy's right behind you!"

[Cardinal Pizza Deliverance.]

Did it suck that bad? Should I delete it?

[Don Coyote]

Did it suck that bad? Should I delete it?

Those are expressions of horror.

We would tell you point blank if it sucked balls. You should know that by now.