🚀 go-pugleaf

Hear ye, hear ye!  In an amazing feat of speed and dexterity, ha!
(for her - never mind that Rob or Ben or Gary or any a host of others
could each easily go faster, be he blindfolded and typing with his
toes, *grin*) - Recycle Woman will now actually produce -

an EPISODE!  And it's not even 10 months since the last one!
                      Shock!  Amaze!

So it is with great pride *cough, hack*  and pleasure *choke, wheeze*
(OK, would you believe, with a manic grin, a homemade pan of spagetti sauce
and a barrage of kooshes?  Aha!  Good!)...that ~

I Sold Back My Life For a Secondhand Keyboard Productions Presents -


       The Eeksburg Times and Daily Kazoo, Part 3!!!!

             Spam of the Evening, Volatile Spam

     Interior shot, broadcast station.  In the center seat we see the
weekend backup Narrator, Stanley K. Hubrious III.  He's wearing a
conservative suit and dark framed spectacles, and is feverishly scanning
his script, while stage tech/maintenance person Jake Smitt peers lurkingly
over his shoulder.  Jake is nattily attired in ripped jeans and a scroungy
Brillo Time t-shirt.  He looks up and grins at the live monitor...
Stanley pulls his attention away from the script, blinks myopicly, and
suddenly (_and_ without warning, of course!  *grin*), he's aware of Jake's
presence behind him....
     "Hsst!  Jake! Get offstage, man!  We're on in 5 seconds!"
     "I'm goin', I'm goin' already.  Don' rush me.  Sheez..."
Jake exits, stage left.  Stanley straightens his narrow tie.
     "Ahem.  We interupt this episode - "
     "Hey!  It ain't even STARTED yet!  Merf!"
     "We interupt this intro - "
     "Much better!"
     "Jake, will you buzz off and let me finish a _sentence_?"
     "No."
     "Excuse me, Nenes and Genmamen, we are experiencing technician
difficulty..."  Stanley darts off, also stage left...
     (Sounds of major thwappage, offscreen...)
     Stanley emerges, looking rumpled.  He straightens his tie once
again.
     "Ahem.  As I was saying.  We interupt our regularly scheduled
intro for a public service announcement from this station and the
Eeksburg Editing / Keno - "
     "Hsst!  That's _Keynote_, you idiot!"
      Stanley shoots a murderous glare stage left, and continues...
     "Ahem.  Err.  Eeksburg Editing / _Keynote_ Society,
featuring our guest commentator, The Jabberwock Berserker.
Welcome to Eeksburg, Mr. Berserker.  I understand you have a
philosophical concept to share with us us?"
     "WARG!!  Continuity Notes sucks rocks!  Nuke 'em all
from orbit!  ARRRRRR!!!"
     "Thank you for that stirring insight, Mister Berserker.
We now return you to your irregulularly scheduled thwappage,
err, episode."


                     ->->-> * <-<-<-


(And for our Australian Reader with the synth, that was a small
ascii, separating intro from episode, there.  Won't use any big
ones, YZ, I swear!)

OK, Where were we?  Ah!  Here we go -

     When we last left Jason Jones, intrepid loon, fearless
idiot and weirdness magnet, the big purple guy had just
materialized inside the Learick Theatre and frozen all
the Rocky Horrid audience in mid food fight.  Except for
Jason, who had made a sudden and unwarned, (if perhaps expected,)
bolt for it.  (What, you wanted warning in _this_ debacle?  No way,
bwahahaha!  At least, not this time!)
     His dash for freedom was cut short, however, by the big
purple guy swooping him up in a sparkling grape colored cloud,
and 'porting him down the aisle toward the screen.
     "Not a chance!" he roared.  "Front and center, Spam-boy!
I want a WORD with you!"
     "Not-me-didn't-do-it-pu'-me-down-lemme-go!" sputtered
Jason.  He glared at the big eggplant colored dude.  "Who
the frink you think you are, anyway?  You some friend of _his_?"
He pointed with his chin over to where the tentacled creature
crouched frozen in mid cringe.
     "No," the purple one replied.  "Bguuloid Horrors aren't my
idea of a best buddy."  Shudder.  "I do not consort with beings
who actually EAT SnackeeThings(tm)!"
     "Well, then, waddaya want with me?"
     "YOU eat SnackeeThings(tm)?" bellowed the big guy, flinging
Jason away up onto the stage.
     "Ewww!  _No_!!"  Jason stood, brushed purple glints from
his arms, and glared, eye to eye height now with the intruder.
"I mean," he explained exasperatedly, "you're not on his side,
so why are you after me?  Well?"
     "AHA!  Because _you_, me foine idiot, are messin' with the
forces that hold this world together!  The very fabric of this
ALTIVERSE!  All that power is in the hands of a blitherin'
nincompoop - to whit, YOU!  and you don't even KNOW WHAT YOU"RE
DOING!!!"
     Jason stood there with his jaw dropped.
     "IF you _dare_ SAY "Bwah?" I shall have to KILL you!"
     "Bw-eeep!  Buh."  Jason wiped his sweating face with a
slimy hand.  "Eww," he muttered to himself, then, "Ack!  Err.  Why?"
     "To preserve this place from complete and utter anihilation, you
gormless twit!  Now give it to me!"  He pointed at Jason's clenched
fist.
     "Huh?"
     "Hand it over, nice and easy, before someone gets hurt."
     "What?  What are you _talking_ about?"
     "The sandwich, Spam-boy.  Give it here."
     "What!  No way!  That's all I've got between me and a
grizzly transmorgic death!  _HE_" pointing at the tentacled
thing, " was gonna feed me SnackeeThings(tm)!!  I don' wanna
diiiiiieeeeeee!!!"
     "Let me call to your attention," said the purple dude dryly,
"that Sir Bguuliod there, ain't movin'."
     "Oh."  Jason blinked vaguely at the motionless tentacles for
several seconds.  "Say, that's right!"  He brightened, relaxing visibly.
"Whew!  Thanks!"
     "Right.  So.  You're safe.  Now," edgily, "fork over the Spamwich."
     Jason folded his arms and gave a mulish defiant glare.  "No."
     "Look, kid, I don't have all NIGHT, here.  What you got clutched in
your grubby paw ain't what you THINK it is!  You're actin' like that's
some kind of POTTED MEAT product there!"
     "It's not?"  Jason uncurled his fist and looked blankly at the
squooshed remains in his hand.  "Well, there's bread, too.  It's all
kinda stuck together now, though..."
     "YES, YOU IDIOT!  And it's got to be UNstuck, and put back where
it belongs, in the next FIVE MINUTES, or your whole little world
goes BOOM!  BOOM _TODAY_, NO TOMORROW!  END!  FINIS!  TOTAL DESTRUCTION!
DO YOU _WANT_ THAT?"
     "Ah....no?"
     The purple guy groaned.  "Then give it to me, you fool, so I can
get STARTED!  I can't just TAKE it from you, you know!  That would
set it off NOW!"
     "Yipes!  Eeeep!  Okay, okay - here!"  Jason dropped the soggy
lump into the big guy's outstretched palm.  There was a burst of
purple energy, and a bright pulsing sphere sprang up around the two
of them.
     "Good.  I think we have a chance!  You managed not to spread it
around the theater, THANK ELVIS!  Quickly!  Was it in a BAG?"
     "Uh, yes..."
     "Give it here, give it HERE!  HURRY!  We must have all the essence,
EVERYTHING!"
     Hastily Jason scrabbled through his pockets, emerging with
a very grubby lint stuck baggie.  He flung it on top of the lump.
     "YES!  We just may MAKE it!  NOW, stand RIGHT THERE, Spam-boy - "
     "Name's Jason.  Jason Jones."
     "Yes, yes, nevermind introductions, just hold ABSOLUTELY STILL!
Don't MOVE!"
     "Well, OK, but... why?"
     "Because I _SAID_ SO!  You're a focus for untold _incredible_ ENERGY!
That's not that fake _meat_ Spam, that's the real the real, unstable, raw
power of the _ALTIVERSE_ Spam!  You run mad and start dancing a polka, you
could land this ENTIRE PLANET in 044DripsLikeADaliWatch!  Don't twitch,
don't scratch your nose, think twice before BREATHING!  STAY _PUT_!!!"
     "Arright, arright.  I'm stayin', ok?  Ack.  What next?"
     The big purple guy muttered under his breath, gestured majesticly
but franticly, like a hedge wizard on fast forward, and produced a
small hand held instrument that glowed greenly, casting a sickly light
into the purple sphere.  It was labeled Spam-Away-o-Matic (Containments-
R-Us(tm)).
     "Ow, man.  That green _clashes_..."
     "SHUT UP!  I don't _care_ - it WORKS..." mutter, "(at least, I _hope_
it does... Elvis HELP us!  Keep the M lady away....)  He made rapid
frenzied passes over the gooey lump, easing bits of Spam out of the mashed
bread until it was cleared, then slurping the jellied goo carefully, quickly
from the sides and corners of the baggie.  The little machine groaned,
whined, shook, coughed murky dark blue smoke and spat alarming incandescent
sparks, but then settled down to a humming purr.  A blinking red tabulator
on its side counted steadily up - 78%, 83%, 87%...
     "Containment device is holding... PRAISE ELVIS, I think we're gonna
MAKE IT..." breathed the big purple guy, then whispered, "C'mon little
framisator, you can do it... go, go..."  91%, 93%, 94%...
     "Why is it slowing?"
     "_I_ don't KNOW!  What, you think I ever did a rogue _SPAM_
containment before?"
    "So you don't know what you're doing?  Gaah..."
     "I've studied the THEORY, dammit!  It's required to get a collecting
permit!  But I always harvest the stuff VERY CAREFULLY!  I never had ANY
go out of control _before_ - the goon who canned this and threw it on
the public market ought to be dropped into 169BigNastyToothyThings, butt
naked and armed with a fork!"  95%, flashed the readout......95.4%......
95.7%......96%......  At 96.72359% it hissed, blatted, flashed a strobing
white glare, and ceased counting.
   IT"S _STOPPED_!  All the essence is NOT here!  WHAT have you done with
the REST?"
     "Bu-but, tha-that's all there is!  I gave you the bag and everything!"
Unless..."  Jason froze, eyes widening in sudden, unwarned dismay.
     "WHAT?"
     "Unless, when I wiped my face..."
     "You LOONATIC!!  _YOU_ _RUBBED_ _IT_ INTO_ _YOUR_ _SKIN_?"
     "Uh.  M-m-maybe?  I'm n-n-not s-sure...."
     "Well, that settles it then."  The big purple guy loomed
menacingly toward Jason.  "Nothing for it.  No other way."
He siezed Jason with huge purple hands, shook him hard, and pinned
him up against the stage right wall.
     "I"LL JUST HAVE TO MAKE YOU - "
     "Very, very dead?"  Jason squeezed his eyes shut.
     "NO, you MORON!  ELVIS HELP ME, I"LL JUST HAVE TO MAKE YOU - "
he looked around furtively, leaned close, and whispered,
" ...a superguy."

JASON?  A SUPERGUY?
(HE'S GOTTA BE KIDDING, RIGHT....  _JASON_?)
WHAT KIND OF POWERS DO YOU GET FROM SPAM ESSENCE ANYWAY?
AND WHAT HAPPENED TO ANGHUS?
WHEN WILL HE CROP BACK UP IN HERE?

ANSWERS TO THESE AND OTHER LUDICROUS QUESTIONS
WILL APPEAR SOMEWHEN, SOMEHOW, RIGHT HERE ON -
SUPERGUY!

(Aside - Fro, see what happens when you start handing out
crated Inspiration?  *heh-heh-heh* =D )

Unreality Check - All characters herein contained are fictional
and totally unrelated to nor based upon any RL persons.  So there!
Ya _HA_!

And let's not forget - the lovely requisite mention of -
Copyright!  This very silly whatsit is by Peg Fisher!
She wrote it!  She holds the copyright clutched tightly
in her manic grasp! September 1996!  Arrrrr!  Beware!
There _shall_ be more, I tell you!  But later!
Bwaahahahahahahahaha!  Bye!  Arrrrrr!!!