🚀 go-pugleaf

                              The Defense Squad          QUOTE OF THE DAY:
                                 Episode 179           "You know, we really
                           The Last Turdian, Part 3     don't have a word
                                     or                 for 'male bimbo.'
                         One-way ticket to wackiness    Well, alright:
                                 Written by             'senator.' But
                                 Bill Paul              still..."
                         The man with two first names     -Elaine Boozler

CONTRINUED FROM PART TWO...

        "How indeed!" Socks cried. "Hillary, look at this!"
        "It's a memo from the DEA office in L.A. So?"
        "So?! Hillary, this memo says the DEA is going to try to move in
on a suspected Scorn dealer tomorrow!"
        "And I wish them luck. What's that got to do with... Wait! I think
I understand: if we're able to see this...!"
        "Then maybe somebone else is seeing it too! Hillary, what if
we're not the only ones tapping into these highly sensitive computer
networks?"
        "If that's true then we have to move very carefully. Our system
is set up to look legitimate, but anyone smart enough to crack government
nets might be able to see through our deception. Damn. The only way we're
going to make any progress now is with an incredible stroke of luck."
        "Hey mom," said Chelsea, who until now had been too caught up
in the news to pay attention to the conversation, "check this out. Two
undercover narcs just arrested the owner of the New York Yankees for
selling Scorn."
        Socks bounded back in front of the television and avidly watched
the report. Hillary listened with equal interest.
        "No no," Socks said, "it's 'Steenbrinner,' Chelsea. That's somebody
else entirely."
        "Oh."
        "So," mused Hillary, "Detective Jack Honey and Sergeant Al Dear
of the NYPD nabbed themselves a big time Scorn dealer, did they? Socks,
prep the Shrubmobile for immediate departure. This could be the break
we've been waiting for. I think it's high time the Scarlet Shrubbery
paid a visit to the Big Apple."
        "Awright!" Chelsea cheered, "We're going to New York! Can we stop
at Bloomie's while we're there?"
        "Chelsea, *I* am going to New York. *You* are staying right here
to cover for me."
        "But mom...!"
        "No buts, dear! This is a school night, after all."
        "Oh, this is *so* unfair!"
        "Chelsea, I need you here. Until we finish installing all the new
equipment in the Shrubmobile, someone has to stay in the Shrubcave and
monitor the Shrubcomputer and the Shrubphone. Heaven help me, I don't
believe I just said that..."
        "Okay, mom, okay. I get the point. I'll hold down the fort while
you're gone. Good luck, and be careful, okay?"
-------------------------------we have to say:-------------------------------
        "I swear, if one more person whistles at me, there's gonna be
blood spilt."
        Edgar Von Blim smiled a worrried smile at the heavily armed
guards standing at the entrance of the Al Capone (coincidence) Memorial
Spaceport as he, Loko and Larabeth tried their best not to look like
fugitives. Given that they were both dressed in rather suggestive
dresses, this wasn't likely to be a problem. Martin Scorcese (coincidence)
and Francis Ford Copolla (coincidence) glowered back at them from behind
their practically opaque sunglasses. Loko sneered as he hobbled past
them, struggling to stay upright in his too tall heels. Larabeth flashed
Copolla (coincidence) a subtle nod which Loko, who was too busy trying
not to fall over, failed to notice.
        "It won't be much longer now," whispered Von Blim. "All we have
to do is make it to bay twelve and we're home free. Your warp cycle
should be on the pad next to mine; I saw it there when I landed."
        "Won't be soon enough for me: I got a real bad feeling all of a
sudden. You sure Pacino (coincidence) won't be able to track us here?"
        "No, but since we're only seconds away from escape, I wouln't worry
about it."
        "Loko," Larabeth whispered tightly, "I think we're being followed."
        Von Blim cast a furtive glance over his shoulder and spotted
Copolla (coincidence) moving towards him. His grip on his energy weapon
tightened and he began to worry.
        "She's right." he said.
        "Awright, everybody just keep moving," said Loko, "try to use the
crowds for cover. When I give the signal, run for it."
        "Er, what signal would that be?" Von Blim asked.
        "You'll know it when you see it," Loko insisted, "Don't worry."
        The trio silently navigated towards the entrance to bay twelve,
keeping as many people between themselves and Copolla (coincidence) as
possible. With only a hundred feet to go, Copolla (coincidence) finally
managed to catch up to them. Loko reached into his purse and pulled out a
hanky, which he clumsily let drop to the ground.
        "Oh, clumsy me!" Loko screeched. He turned abruptly and made an
effort to pick up the hanky. It quickly became more than plain that the
dress he was wearing wasn't designed to allow him to bend down.
        "Oh could you please help me?" he said to Copolla (coincidence),
who pulled up short and cast a casual glance at Larabeth. She hunched her
shoulders. Wordlessly, Copolla knelt down, and was barely able to reach
out for the hankerchief before the butt of Loko's laser pistol, which
had remained hidden in Loko's false cleavage until now, slammed into the
back of his neck and drove him to the floor.
        A hush fell over the terminal as hundreds of blue-tinted faces
turned to observe the fracas. Von Blim gulped and started worrying again.
Scorcese (coincidence) cocked his tompson gun and began leveling at Loko's
head, only to be cut down by a laser blast to the chest.
        "That," Loko exclaimed, holding up laser pistol, "in case you hadn't
noticed, was the signal! Move!!"
        A blast from Edgar Von Blim's own weapon tore through the gate
to bay twelve and the trio dashed forward, with Loko and Scorcese
(coincidence) exchanging energy blasts as they went. The Turdian Terror
took a fraction of a second to steal a look at his warp cycle, then
suddenly found himself sprawled out on the hangar bay floor. He became
very angry when he realized that he wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten
there.
        "Loko," cried Larabeth between bursts of gunfire, "what the
Hell (tm) are you doing!?"
        "Yer not gonna believe this," he shouted back, "but I think I
just fell off my high heels!"
        "Well get back on them and get moving!"
        "I'm trying, but this stupid dress is too tight around my legs! I
can't bend my knees!"
        "Will you tell him to hurry up?!" said Von Blim insistently while
laying down cover fire. His face became a maze of blue streaks as a river
of cold sweat began washing away his disguise.
        "He can't! He's fallen, and he can't get up!"
        "I *knew* I should have worn the cullots!" Loko snarled, "But no:
too pedestrian, you said! Wear something tight around the ass to draw
attention away from your face, you said!"
        Just then, two more figures burst through the gateway to the
hanger and opened fire. Von Blim recognized them as Joe Pesci (coincidence)
and Joe Piscopo (coincidence) and immediately shifted his attention to
them, forcing them to duck for cover behind an equipment locker. Scorcese
(coincidence) started moving forward again only to be cut down by Loko,
who was still struggling to reach a seated position.
        "This weapon's charge is almost drained!" Von Blim warned, "I'm
worried we may not have time to help him up before more reinforcements
arrive!"
        "Forget me!" Loko roared, "Take Lara and go! I'll follow along as
soon as I can!"
        "No, we can't leave him!" Larabeth shrieked. Von Blim took her
by the wrist and began pulling her through the hatchway to his ship.
Loko kept blasting in Piscopo (coincidencE) and Pesci's (coincidence)
direction, keeping them pinned down long enough for the craft to get
clear of the hanger.
        "I've had enough of this," said Pesci (coincidence) to Piscopo
(coindicence), "On the count of three, bada-boom, bada-bing, we rush him,
okay?"
        "Okay!"
        "Awright: one, two... three!"
        The two Mafia henchmen leapt from behind the locker and would
have taken Loko completely by surprise, probably cutting him to pieces
with their thompson gun-shaped enerty weapons before he could even lift
a finger. They would have. Really. That is, they would have, if only
someone hadn't dropped a crate of novelty rubber doggie poop on them.
        "Excuse me," said a strange yet reassuring voice.
        Loko looked up to find a short balding man clad in flowing black
robes standing over him, a somewhat nervous smile curling his lips and a
pair of bifocals perched at the very tip of his nose. Loko noticed
immediately that he did not have blue skin and pink hair, which was a
good thing as he would otherwise have put many messy and painful holes
in him and really screwed up the plot.
        There were several things Loko could have said at this juncture,
most of them loud and obscene, but in light of his somewhat embarassing
predicament he thought it best not to overstate himself.
        "Er, yes?" was his response.
        The short bald man's hand appeared from somewhere within the folds
of his robes, and in it was a clipboard, on which was clipped a stack of
papers and a pen.
        "Could you fill this out please?"
        "Uh, look, I don't know if you noticed, but I'm in a bit of a
rush here."
        "Oh, I noticed," said the man, "In fact I've made complete notes
on every event that's transpired here for the past ten thousand years."
        "I see. You know bub, they have these things nowdays called
'lives' that make that sort of behavior unnecessary."
        It finally dawned on Loko that he was not longer under fire now
that Pesci (coincidence) and Piscopo (coincidence) were unconsious, which
promped him to intensify his attempts to free himself from his constrictive
evening wear. With skill honed by years of training and recklessness honed
by years of drinking far too much alcohol, Loko aimed his laser pistol at
a spot between his knees and fired, tearing open a hole in the dress
without injuring himself in the lightest. Now all it took was a bit of
pressure to split the bottom of the dress apart entirely, giving Loko all
the legroom he needed to pick himself up.
        "I take it that's your rubber doggie poop?" he inquired, spying
the crate under which the Mafia goons were wedged.
        "Indeed. Look, Mr. Loko, this is difficult for me to explain,
but you must believe me when I tell you that it would be in your best
interests to fill out this form."
        "Lookit: you're the second person who's asked me to sign
something lately. You're also the second person to call me 'mister.'
If you're trying to get on my good side, there are much better ways to
go about it."
        "I understand completely. Rest assured that this is not a
contract of any kind. I am not here to take anything from you, nor force
you into any illegal business deal. I'm simply trying to lend you a
helping hand. This really is for your own good."
        "Supposing I say no?"
        "Then I won't press you. But I would ask you to reconsider.
Please?"
        Loko cocked his head and thought on this for a moment. One thing
Al Pacino (coincidence) never did was say 'please.' He reached out and took
the offered clipboard, then tucked it under his arm while he fumbled in
his purse for the keys to his warp cycle.
        "What is it?" he asked.
        When he looked up again, the short bald man was gone. So too was
the crate of rubber doggie poop, and, consequently, Pesci (coincidence)
and Piscopo's (coincidence) reason for being unconcious. Fortunately,
Loko was able to reach his warp cycle and blast off they could reach him.

CONCLUDED IN PART FOUR, IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING...