Scientist Running Down a One Way Street
Dr. Johnson opened his eyes. This was good - he wasnt dead. Or if
he was, it was taking a long time to kick in. A lethal pun booted him in
the belly and he doubled over. Perhaps hed spoken a bit too soon.
But he hadnt spoken at all.
Not soon enough...
The words bubbled past his lips like a torrent of green amyl nitrite
foam.
Yet all toboo... tooboo... booboobububbub...
To tell the truth, it was a torrent of green amyl nitrite, erupting
from the crucible of his gorge like the juices of a young lusty lover.
Well, one who should really call his urologist. Green?
As the foam dribbled down his chin and spattered off the wall, it
began to collect on the floor, culminating at a puddle at his feet.
Eventually, the force of this spewage increased to such a degree that Dr.
Johnson was actually propelled backwards, standing tall, hydroplaning on
these small green bubbles which originated from his own stomach.
Then, like a faucet turning off, it was over. A few coughs and some
bleeding hacking, and he took a long, deep breath. Then he giggled. Only a
little. You see, amyl nitrite is laughing gas.
Chuckling to himself, he took long, slow steps through the foamy
brack, up to his knees, to a switch. Flipping the switch, an air filtration
unit kicked in somewhere as the contaminated air was pumped out of the
room. The difference in air pressure literally sucked the foam down the
drainage grates in the floor of the laboratory.
Not the green then... Ill check that colour off on my list.
With a half block between them, the hunter and the hunted engaged in
their eternal chase. He wasnt holding the gun anymore but his frantic
escaping motions had still caught the attentions of the policeman, who had
been chasing him for some six blocks now.
He wasnt in particularly good shape, but patting the reassuring
bulk of the loot under his leather jacket, he wouldnt need to be for long.
Still, this was an odd predicament he found himself in, since the wealth he
had procured happened to belong to his own bank. Through a magnificently
devised system, he had managed to insure his own wealth, and that of everyone
who had bought into his bank. Perhaps, it wasnt so ingenious. Well, it
wasnt ingenious at all. Hed simply bought the rarest bunch of bananas in
the world. They were rather odd-looking things: they grew in rectangles, and
every five minutes, a monkey popped out of the stem. The monkeys were very
small, at first, but if they got wet enough they grew to a sturdy two and a
half feet.
He suddenly giggled at this notion. It was rather silly, now that he
thought about it. When they had originally found the strange and
other-wordly bananas, everyone had been so impressed by this seemingly
miraculous event that it hadnt occured to them how damn silly it was,
monkeys popping out of rectangular bananas.
He continued to titter, and suddenly noticed that he had stopped
running. Or, perhaps he was running so slowly that it felt as though he had
stopped. Hed seen that on Ducktales. His gay tittering transformed into
chuckling as he remembered other hilarious episodes of that wonderful show,
involving Huey, Louie, Dewey, their greedy Uncle Scrooge, and his own
personal favourite, Launchpad McQuack. His chuckling turned into a healthy
laugh. Hed become obsessed by the show. Hed even called up Disney and
threatened to kill Chip and Dale if they didnt start a 24-hour Ducktales TV
station. His wife had eventually left him, leaving him ranting into the
phone with a very scared Michael Eisner listening to him. He was glad his
wife left him, the fat bitch.
With that, he roared with laughter and fell to the ground, landing
on the policeman whod decided that crawling around on his elbows while
yelling INDEPENDENCE FOR THE SOUTH URUGUYANS! was about the funniest thing
ever accomplished.
With a flash! and a bang! a big wisp of multicoloured smoke crept down
the street, leaving flowers and rainbows in its path. From this emerged an
old WWI Panzer tank, with a man hanging out of the cockpit on top. Who he was
would remain an enigma as he was wearing quite a cumbersome gas mask. However,
he wasnt laughing.
Achtung! Gett in!
The man with the bananas in his jacket or maybe he was just happy to
see me held his breath until he stopped tittering, then vaulted on top of the
artillery piece. Treads groaning and rumbling, it tore up the street as it
backed into the coloured mist from whence it had emerged.
Victory! Hee hee hee.
But fate was not on their side. No sooner had they cleared the other
end of the mist, the tank now looking like a Fokker warplane, when a motorcycle
came up behind them and started flashing a blue siren.
Pull over and akt innocent! And here, putt these on!
A pilots goggles and earflaps were tossed into the rear cockpit, and
the giggling thief struggled to maintain his dignity as he put them on.
The hefty officer strutted over to the drivers side of the plane, and
addressed the stereotypical German fellow.
Yew know, this here is a one-way street, and normally it bein for carsan stuff Id have to wraht yall a ticket, but ah see that yew and yer friend
here... yer.. beep beep beep BEEP!
The cops head exploded in a shower of latex and a chrome skull peered
evilly out of the neck. Its one red eye glared balefully.
please hand over the bananas we are reading through the lining of your
protective garment stop we have come from the future on a mission seeking fruit
of unusual shapes to protect the present of the past stop if you do not comply
i will have to sing to you stop.
The banker had no intention of handing over his prized bananas, so he
plugged his ears.
And the robot sang. The garbage dumpsters joined in, lids clanking,
and the tin cans rolled in rhythm, and soon every metal object in the city was
grooving to this mineral tune. That included several integral components of thewarplane, and when the banker got to his feet from the pile of rubble, the robotwas gone, and so were the bananas. But what was this?
From out of his breast pocket crawled a very small monkey with three
heads.
ansi by happyfish of mistigris
story by cthulu of mistigris
and patrick monahan, who stopped by to collect some old warez.
Dr. Johnson opened his eyes. This was good - he wasnt dead. Or if
he was, it was taking a long time to kick in. A lethal pun booted him in
the belly and he doubled over. Perhaps hed spoken a bit too soon.
But he hadnt spoken at all.
Not soon enough...
The words bubbled past his lips like a torrent of green amyl nitrite
foam.
Yet all toboo... tooboo... booboobububbub...
To tell the truth, it was a torrent of green amyl nitrite, erupting
from the crucible of his gorge like the juices of a young lusty lover.
Well, one who should really call his urologist. Green?
As the foam dribbled down his chin and spattered off the wall, it
began to collect on the floor, culminating at a puddle at his feet.
Eventually, the force of this spewage increased to such a degree that Dr.
Johnson was actually propelled backwards, standing tall, hydroplaning on
these small green bubbles which originated from his own stomach.
Then, like a faucet turning off, it was over. A few coughs and some
bleeding hacking, and he took a long, deep breath. Then he giggled. Only a
little. You see, amyl nitrite is laughing gas.
Chuckling to himself, he took long, slow steps through the foamy
brack, up to his knees, to a switch. Flipping the switch, an air filtration
unit kicked in somewhere as the contaminated air was pumped out of the
room. The difference in air pressure literally sucked the foam down the
drainage grates in the floor of the laboratory.
Not the green then... Ill check that colour off on my list.
With a half block between them, the hunter and the hunted engaged in
their eternal chase. He wasnt holding the gun anymore but his frantic
escaping motions had still caught the attentions of the policeman, who had
been chasing him for some six blocks now.
He wasnt in particularly good shape, but patting the reassuring
bulk of the loot under his leather jacket, he wouldnt need to be for long.
Still, this was an odd predicament he found himself in, since the wealth he
had procured happened to belong to his own bank. Through a magnificently
devised system, he had managed to insure his own wealth, and that of everyone
who had bought into his bank. Perhaps, it wasnt so ingenious. Well, it
wasnt ingenious at all. Hed simply bought the rarest bunch of bananas in
the world. They were rather odd-looking things: they grew in rectangles, and
every five minutes, a monkey popped out of the stem. The monkeys were very
small, at first, but if they got wet enough they grew to a sturdy two and a
half feet.
He suddenly giggled at this notion. It was rather silly, now that he
thought about it. When they had originally found the strange and
other-wordly bananas, everyone had been so impressed by this seemingly
miraculous event that it hadnt occured to them how damn silly it was,
monkeys popping out of rectangular bananas.
He continued to titter, and suddenly noticed that he had stopped
running. Or, perhaps he was running so slowly that it felt as though he had
stopped. Hed seen that on Ducktales. His gay tittering transformed into
chuckling as he remembered other hilarious episodes of that wonderful show,
involving Huey, Louie, Dewey, their greedy Uncle Scrooge, and his own
personal favourite, Launchpad McQuack. His chuckling turned into a healthy
laugh. Hed become obsessed by the show. Hed even called up Disney and
threatened to kill Chip and Dale if they didnt start a 24-hour Ducktales TV
station. His wife had eventually left him, leaving him ranting into the
phone with a very scared Michael Eisner listening to him. He was glad his
wife left him, the fat bitch.
With that, he roared with laughter and fell to the ground, landing
on the policeman whod decided that crawling around on his elbows while
yelling INDEPENDENCE FOR THE SOUTH URUGUYANS! was about the funniest thing
ever accomplished.
With a flash! and a bang! a big wisp of multicoloured smoke crept down
the street, leaving flowers and rainbows in its path. From this emerged an
old WWI Panzer tank, with a man hanging out of the cockpit on top. Who he was
would remain an enigma as he was wearing quite a cumbersome gas mask. However,
he wasnt laughing.
Achtung! Gett in!
The man with the bananas in his jacket or maybe he was just happy to
see me held his breath until he stopped tittering, then vaulted on top of the
artillery piece. Treads groaning and rumbling, it tore up the street as it
backed into the coloured mist from whence it had emerged.
Victory! Hee hee hee.
But fate was not on their side. No sooner had they cleared the other
end of the mist, the tank now looking like a Fokker warplane, when a motorcycle
came up behind them and started flashing a blue siren.
Pull over and akt innocent! And here, putt these on!
A pilots goggles and earflaps were tossed into the rear cockpit, and
the giggling thief struggled to maintain his dignity as he put them on.
The hefty officer strutted over to the drivers side of the plane, and
addressed the stereotypical German fellow.
Yew know, this here is a one-way street, and normally it bein for carsan stuff Id have to wraht yall a ticket, but ah see that yew and yer friend
here... yer.. beep beep beep BEEP!
The cops head exploded in a shower of latex and a chrome skull peered
evilly out of the neck. Its one red eye glared balefully.
please hand over the bananas we are reading through the lining of your
protective garment stop we have come from the future on a mission seeking fruit
of unusual shapes to protect the present of the past stop if you do not comply
i will have to sing to you stop.
The banker had no intention of handing over his prized bananas, so he
plugged his ears.
And the robot sang. The garbage dumpsters joined in, lids clanking,
and the tin cans rolled in rhythm, and soon every metal object in the city was
grooving to this mineral tune. That included several integral components of thewarplane, and when the banker got to his feet from the pile of rubble, the robotwas gone, and so were the bananas. But what was this?
From out of his breast pocket crawled a very small monkey with three
heads.
ansi by happyfish of mistigris
story by cthulu of mistigris
and patrick monahan, who stopped by to collect some old warez.
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