File : GBS.TXT Author : A. McCully & Rez Errection BBS : The Banana Republic BBS The following is a series of humourous (Hopefully!) texts that a friend and I devised (Mainly him actually) one Saturday Night. Though they may not appeal to certain BR members as they lack the required amount of Necrophilia and Bestiality (Disappointed sighs from readers), at the time of their writing we thought that they were amusing. If you like and want more such texts then leave a message to Rez Erection on BR and who knows I might even convince LP to post them as a bulletin! Criticism welcomed: Note: These are Private. Please do not upload to other BBSs. These texts are dedicated to Trillion and, of course, Lord LP! Rez Erection and A. McCully Present: Metaphysical Ambience: The Sun shone happily, the clouds drifted merrily, the air did whatever it was that air did joyously and the grass.. the grass swayed agreeably. Enthusiastic beams of sunlight found their way with a blissful degree of contentment to the Earth, lighting the overjoyed and elated planet. A slight inkling of a diminutive formation of wind whispered its way over the jubilant country side, rejoicing at the ecstasy of being. Butterflies flitted, flitting from flower to flower with a delighted expression emanating from their facial features. Happy in a kind of terminal way, a brown dog strolled across the agreeable grass and looked up at the cheerful clouds. The protracted stay of euphoria which was currently staging a sit-in at his brain had affected his whole outlook on life. After suffering from a short bout of leprosy, becoming a quadriplegic and recovering from several incidents of radiation sickness that were caused by large nucleur blasts around his kennel, he had lost all hope. Today however he woke up to find that all his limbs had regrown, his fur had rejuvenated and he now had a face. This had so impressed him that he had gone out with the express intent of fully experiencing the total and ultimate realisation of the Spirit. The day had so far proved most satisfying in the line of ultimate realisation of the spirit and thus he was happy. The dog now approached the rather emaciated collection of dirt and rocks that served as a road to this now emaciated spiritually aware community. On the other side of the road he saw what looked like an amazingly comfortable place to sit, alongside which was an amazingly edible-looking bowl of food that simply glowed with the pleasurability of the day. He began to cross the road with simple wondrous nicety of step. HOWEVER the oncoming truck did not share his views on the perfection of the day and said so by revving its engines. As an additional touch it also crushed sinew, smashed liver, destroyed skin, ground intestine into asphalt, and although it did all this extremely politely and with all the proper elocution the gesture was not greatly appreciated by the dog! When the trucks had finished articulating its displeasure over the whole theological and metaphysical implications of the dog, all that remained of the now not-so-impressed dog was an amazingly small, precision placed pile of semi liquid gore. Steaming entrails splayed out in an intricate pattern suggested that the truck driver was in possession of some artistic faculties. The intestines bubbled happily, the liver glupped and convulsed cheerfully and the blood clotted agreeably... Oath of the Dead - A passionate tale of power struggles within a Yemenite mining community or alternatively some pleasant adjectives, a few subjunctive clauses and some blood (Gratuitous Sex, Depravation and Necrophilia). Written by A. McCully with very minor technical assistance from Rez and typed by Rez Erection. The Sun, in its rising, turned the morning clouds a deep shade of orange. The time had arrived, and after centuries of dustial accumulation, the proverbial spit and polish of heroics was present. Below the orangely ambient cloud cover a field was revealing itself to the rest of the world. Beside the field was a small keep, a gray stone affair with a turret at each corner and a huge black metal gate. It stood on a small hill beside the field, sentinel of the area. There was already one figure on the field, he dismissed most medieval stereotypes about combatants as he wore nothing of a military nature aside from a bronze helmet. Raised above this and carried in both hands was a staff, it remained perfectly still, as did the figure, no sign of life around it or him. Statuesque was a good word. * * Life in the Legion of the Dead was not particularly scintillating, it was in fact a contradiction in terms, but it was there. Being dead had many disadvantages, one of the better ones being that material humour was lacking. It simple wasn't possible to roar loudly in laughter at the elite guards that got slaughtered by their own covering fire, it was no longer feasible to make jokes about the barbarian horde that collectively got syphilis after a bit too much looting, pillaging and raping. It was boring. There was however one event which cropped up at irregular intervals, the Invasion of the Living World. What would happen is that all the dead would get together, create a rift in the spatial and temporal continuum and go for a short foray into the world of Life, wreaking as much "death and havoc" as was inhumanly possible. The whole thing was a tremendous morale boost, not to mention "a fun-filled day for the whole platoon". There was an excited humming as the Legion waited for the dimensional gate to open. Snatches of conversation could be heard. "I hope it's better than last time, and the time before that, and the time before that, me and my squire, dead in the first two minutes!" "Yeah, that Archmage spoiled everything." "I mean if you can't kill the living who can you kill?" "Exactly." But that was all, for the normally rigid walls of time and space were being split asunder as the Gate manifested itself. A vast section of the grey world the Dead inhabit was swept aside as an even vaster blackness filled the vast swept away bit. Solemnly they marched and before you could say "Stuff physics this is fantasy", they were half way to the Real world. * * The figure now sat cross legged meditating, his staff upright in front of him, though he held it not. The top end appeared to spontaneously combust, bursting into life. Its phosphorescence steadily increased, flaring up, supernovering and becoming a beacon, brighter than the Sun itself. The area around the figure pulsated with energy, multiple fissures in the very earth developed along with multiple bolts of pure power descending from the sky to strike the staff, only to be absorbed. In a paroxysm of fire a conduit of power from the Gods engulfed the figure obscuring him completely from view. The power surge lasted for a few seconds, and stopped suddenly ... The figure was ready. A wind picked up, it gently swayed the greenness that was the field. The gate on the keep rattled. A stronger wind pickede up and with greater force swayed the greenness. The gate on the keep squeaked open a fraction. A FUCKING ENORMOUS tornado tore up the very earth the greenness was on and the gate warped, melted and the bottom section of the keep exploded in a PRETTY FUCKING VIOLENT display of one-ups manship on the part of the Dead. The ghosts of warriors past trooped out of the wreckage and howled with the ecstasy of being so near to life. They were terrible to behold as the battle-lust overtook them and they longed for blood. And upon the sighting of the figure and his staff a unanimous "Oh Fuck, not again" issued from the horde. For a few moments there was silence, a few whispered "What do we do nows" and then cacophony. The legion was not to be beaten again and so with a raucous chant the horde surged forward in a single slaughterous mass with a single slaughterous goal. The figure on the other hand had other ideas, for although he had a single slaughterous goal he did not surge forward slaughterously. What he did do was look nonchalant, pose retrospectively and raise his staff skyward. The horde screamed. At the staff's tip a black mass was forming, expanding gelatinously, forcing its way to existence. The horde screamed again, only louder. With an explosion of growth the mass became a sphere, throwing out luminous spears of light that dealt death to the Dead, unraveling the fine ethereal threads that held them together. The horde screamed quite loudly this time. In reply the figure threw a dozen or so flaming balls of destruction into their midst, vapourising all that they touched. The few remaining members of the horde booed strongly, knowing their fate. In a last cataclysmic attack the figure called forth a vast vortex of incandescence which wreaked death upon rank upon rank of the legion, devouring them and spewing forth their disassembled corpses. As the last was crushed silence descended. The figure chuckled to himself and went to inform the King that he had again saved the realm. A last vestigule of lucid thought floated from the slowly disappearing bodies of the Legion, " O Fuck! ............I swear..... I'll do that Archmage ". The Blueness: - A brilliant, innovative work of art that delivers a knockout political punch. A stunning aesthetic, historical and social document. This text articulates the mechanisms of oppression and the ecstasies of freedom with a dazzling use of both spoken and visual language. Written by A. McCully with minor technical assistance from Rez and typed by Rez Erection. The city sat, waiting, bathing in the vast crystalline blue that was not in any way normal. It was not a strong or dark blue, it was light, calm, not unlike a flat sea that had taken to the air. It had had a strange effect on the city; normally the city's pace was furious, it waited for no-one, and no-one expected it too, but on the blueness' arrival that had changed. No-more did the high glass and steel buildings harshly reflect the Suns' light in the sunglasses of the scores of business with the cellphones, now the harshness was taken off the reflection and a dull square of light was all that was relayed to the glasses. No longer could the "Sun-Glass Wearing Men In Suits Who Go Out And Relive Dreams of Miami Vice With Their Hands Down Their Trousers, Chatting From Their Carphones To People Called Sharon And Dave With The Sunroofs Open, Basking In The Hot White Light" go out and relive dreams of Miami Vice with their hands down their trousers, chatting from their carphones to people called Sharon and Dave with their sunroofs open, basking in the hot white light. These days the cars went slower with the sunroofs closed. Nobody felt the urge to be professionalistic, nobody felt the need to use their cellphones. "The Single Mothers Trying To Hold Down A Job While Supporting Three Children" appreciated the change. The blueness induced a sense of sluggishness city-wide which pacified the children, relaxed the speed of work at the offices where they all worked as secretaries and just generally made life easier. A small number of "Visiting Businessmen Just Over Here To Clinch A Really Big Deal" were also affected for when they returned to where they came from they found that everything was too fast, that they couldn't take it, and that, more to the point, they didn't want to. They threw away their Visiting Businessmen roots and moved to the City to become "Businessmen With Sunglasses And Cellphones". There was a small outcry from a xenophobic section of the "Very Important People In High Places Who Appear To Do Very Little But Earn Lots Of Money", but no one really minded. The "People In The Street" had even more morning teas to discuss how strange it was that Harry had married Jane and then gone to Mexico where he said he had a business, but no-one believed him and what with all this blue thing hanging over the city. According to "Astrologers And Other People Who Wear Black A Lot", there had been a 16% rise in the number of children being born with six heads since the blueness had appeared and consequently religious suicides increased and churches were packed every Sunday, with the "Astrologers And Other People Who Wear Black A Lot" preaching to the "People In The Street" who in turn relayed the message to the "Other People In The Street Who Don't Really Care What's Happening Anyway". All in all not much happened, though little by little everyone became calm. Even "Psychopaths And Other People Who Wear Brown A Lot" were killing fewer people", complaining that the blueness had taken away that essential streak of life-hating vitality that was required to kill people in cold blood. "The Very People In High Places Who Appear To Do Very Little But Earn Lots Of Money" replied with the fact that these days nobody could be bothered putting up. a fight anyway, taking all the fun and thrill out of it. "Psychopaths And Other People Who Wear Brown A Lot"'s suicides increased. Crime fell to Zero, as did Production. Many "People Who Are Actually Religious But Don't Like To Say It Because John Always Been An Atheist" asked God what was happening. He didn't answer. A tribe of nomadic "People Who Own Suits And Are Successful In The View Of The Public But Really Are Bastards Who Have Affairs With Their Secretaries" migrated to the city, seeking serenity away from their paternity suits. They found it. They found more than that, they found tranquility and also slowness. Finally the streets became clogged with the cars of people who had been driving to work but then thought, "Why?", and got out, leaving the car still running and went home. After a period of three months the pavements, the shops and even the churches were empty. Everyone was home. Everyone except three "Very Important People In High Places Who Appear To Do Very Little But Earn Lots Of Money", who had been becalmed while in the council offices. "What is to be done?" "How can we do anything when we don't know what's happening?" "Nothing's happening, that's the problem." "Yeah, that's true, but why?" And with that last word, the lights went off and a sort-of cosmic and all pervading "Because I Fucking Said So!" answered the question as time ceased to be. If anyone had been able to see it then they would have observed that the blueness appeared to increase in intensity, becoming a solid blueness of calm and quiet until it overwhelmed all light. As the "Blues" slowly, immeasurably slowly, enveloped the region its essential blueness surpassed mortal comprehension.. Finally after two minutes of packed blueness it relented and when it ceased, the city was no more, for it too had Stopped. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- AUTHOR : A. McCully & Rez Errection ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Brought to the WORLD by The Banana Republic BBS -------------------------------------------------------------------------------