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mikew

Begun the asteroid war has...

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6 minutes ago, mikew said:

Not content with firing a bullet into asteroid Ryugu a couple of months ago, it seems the Japanese have now bombed it as well.

https://www.bbc.com/news/science-environment-47818460

 

I find this stuff fascinating from a scientific point of view, and with the bonus that this will deter any aliens watching from attacking Earth. :D

Or it will signal to the aliens that we are sending weapons into space which they may interpret that as a threat and launch a preemptive attack on Earth. :sofa1:

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ACH!  Ve are goink to be attakted by zhe spaze alienz?  Ich hav been zo buzy inveztigatink zhose vho hav been plottink againzt zhe Amerikafuhrer zhat Ich mizzedt zhis zhreat.  Ich vill immediately notifvy zhe Amerikafuhrer of zhe impendink attak.  Danke fvor zhe informazion Herr Stanz.  Zhe Amerikafuhrer vill be pleazedt.

 

Heil Tvrump!

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23 minutes ago, mikew said:

Relax...He's already on top of this:

 

The hook has been sunk, so just let him run for a while, then reel him in. :lol:

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The moronic Japanese! Their experiment to try and destroy an asteroid is very amusing! They couldn't remove a hemorrhoid much less an asteroid! I will report this to The Emperor at once! And the orange president Trump and his so called "Space Force"! LMAO! He can't even stop a Chinese from breaching security into his Mar-a-Lago Club with fake passports and a thumb drive with malware. And we won't even bring up the Russians and the American elections.

 

Any further attempts by the Japanese to send probes into space (or Fick) will result in Tokyo's obliteration by Spaceball 1!

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2 hours ago, Dark Helmet said:

The moronic Japanese! Their experiment to try and destroy an asteroid is very amusing! They couldn't remove a hemorrhoid much less an asteroid! I will report this to The Emperor at once! And the orange president Trump and his so called "Space Force"! LMAO! He can't even stop a Chinese from breaching security into his Mar-a-Lago Club with fake passports and a thumb drive with malware. And we won't even bring up the Russians and the American elections.

 

Any further attempts by the Japanese to send probes into space (or Fick) will result in Tokyo's obliteration by Spaceball 1!

Speaking of hemorrhoids, two have posted in this thread, where is Bitchie?  Did he die in the assteroid bombing? 

No one is interested in probing Fick, except maybe for you and perhaps your Imperror.

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Adapted from an earlier tale.

 

 

The Recruit

 

Fick moved with caution, keeping to the shadows, avoiding moonlight and street lamps. He well knew what sort of sinister things traveled the Canadian night.

 

His goal was the parking lot behind Mulligan's Irish Eyes Saloon. Of certain nights -- typically Friday or Saturday -- and shortly before last call, Fick was in the habit of supplementing his day job by rolling drunks in the poorly lit parking lot. Drunks being drunks and Mulligan's being an out of the way place, he did fairly well, though the hours were less than desirable and there was the occasional competitor.

 

Fifi, his girlfriend, voiced half-hearted complaints about his nocturnal prowling, but she liked the added cash flow. Fick suspected, correctly, that her concern wasn't so much for his safety as for the possible loss of money for new shoes, clothes and snazzy car.

 

Then there was the competition. For the occasional thug who ventured out of the downtown area, with its cluster of bars and clubs, he carried a two-foot length of iron pipe. Fick always approached his operational area via the Methodist church and its associated burial grounds. The city toughs seemed to have an aversion to graveyards. He'd found that a swift and stealthy clot up side the head followed by the breaking of the unconscious competitor's kneecap discouraged repeat visits to 'his' territory. Fick was careful with the pipe. He had no intention of killing anyone. A plain sap sufficed for his victims.

 

Nevertheless, there were other kinds of intruders. Thus, his extreme caution.

 

It turned out to be a good night. Fick only managed to sap two lone drunks. One looked to have imbibed his entire paycheck, as the yield was a mere seventy-four cents. The second inebriated soul proved to have a thick roll of bills in his coat pocket. So impressed was our hero at the size of the wad, he lifted the donor out of the dirt and shoved his unconscious form into the car he was unlocking when bopped. The delay proved to be Fick's undoing.

 

A warm, dry tentacle fastened on his arm. Another lightly encircled his neck. He emitted a piteous groan. "Not again!"

 

"Having a good night, Fick?" It was a soft voice, with mechanical overtones. He was gently, but firmly made to turn around.

 

"Dammit, Dark Helmet," whined Fick. "You promised you wouldn't be back."

 

The so-named Dark Helmet was impressive for a Hork. He measured a trifle under four feet from the bottom of his clawed feet to the top of the tiny black helmet crowning his head. The front of the head -- face, for lack of a better word -- sported one huge yellow eye over a short flexible trunk. Two multi-jointed arms sprouted from thin shoulders. The tentacles gripping Fick grew from the thing's middle, just above a checked kilt which was its only garment. A metal box hung from the broad belt securing the kilt. The soft voice issued from the box.

 

"You promised," sniveled Fick.

 

"I lied," admitted Dark Helmet, with no discernible trace of regret. "And you're already repeating yourself." The box gave off a creaking sound that might have been laughter -- or the rasp of a closing coffin lid. "You didn't start that until we began probing orifices last time."

 

Fick slumped in the thing's grasp. He knew better than to resist. "Who's your pal?"

 

"Call him Itchie," said Dark Helmet. "My new apprentice." The second Hork stood no more than half his master's height. A thatch of what appeared to be dried vomit covered the top of his head. He wore something like a tattered burlap bag.

 

Fick managed a choked laugh. "Itchie. Not much of a name."

 

"It's a perfect name. Itchie ain't much of a Hork." Dark Helmet tugged at the diminutive Canadian. "Come on. The ship is this way."

 

"Wait! You guys better think this over. If I turn up missing again, the cops might actually get out of the donut shops and investigate. I was late for a payoff that last time."

 

"Forget it, Fick. The police wouldn't care if your rotting corpse turned up in the chief's office. They'd be glad to bag and tag your remains."

 

Ficfddsk struggled against the tentacles. He didn't really mind the orifice probing. It's just that it was so mechanical, so devoid of emotion. And they never let him smoke a cigarette afterwards. Claimed it was bad for his health. “Wait! Wait a minute.”

 

It does no good to fight back,” rasped Dark Helmet. “You know that.”

 

Don't . . . uh . . . don't you guys work for . . . ah . . . whats-his-name? The dead guy?”

 

Dead?” squeaked Itchie. “Dead? The Emperor isn't dead!”

 

Dark Helmet hissed laughter. “He just smells that way.”

 

Well, um,” Fick was grasping at straws. “Is he hiring”

 

 

 

:)  OG

 

 

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That sounds like Fick's level of sniveling and I think you pretty well nailed the highlight of his earning career.

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11 hours ago, Stans said:

That sounds like Fick's level of sniveling and I think you pretty well nailed the highlight of his earning career.

That and the frequent orifice probes. :lol:

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22 minutes ago, Donster said:

That and the frequent orifice probes. :lol:

Which he generally enjoys! :lol:

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OG, I fear your literary talents are going to waste here. Your audience appears to want less character development and more probing of orifices... :D

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8 minutes ago, mikew said:

OG, I fear your literary talents are going to waste here. Your audience appears to want less character development and more probing of orifices... :D

That's Fick that wants more orifice probing.  I just enjoy a good tale.

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ACH!  Himmel!  Ich am zure zhat Ich vould nicht entjoy havink mein orifizes probedt ekzept fvor Fifi probink mein mouzh vhiz her tongue. 

 

Herr Stainz Ich do nicht znivel!

 

Herr Oldt Gay haz korrecktly dezkribedt Dark Helmet, Itchie, und zhat Emperor.  Zhankfvully zhe Amerikafuhrer haz vankuished zhem.

 

Heil Tvrump!

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