-z- I hope your illness or discomfort leaves you soon. Consider this a virtual get well card

Respectfully

B

Soon won't do it now, -z-'s been gone for four weeks...

56k swung open the door. It wasn’t who he expected to see.

Two Men in Black. Black suits, dark, reflective shades. One reached in his coat pocket, drew out a credentials case and did a quick flip of them at 56k.

“Sir, we’re investigating some odd transmissions that have been come from this neighborhood. We’re agents with the government.”

The other man continued, “Complaints from bank card companies have prompted our investigations. Do you know a person whose name is Pokemalo, aka ‘Evil Pockets’?”

“We think Mr. Tight Pockets may be tied to an alien force, possibly Russian, that has been up to no good.”

“Russian, heh. If they knew,” 56k thought. Stunned, he saw his get-rich dreams fading away. No Porsche. The lake cottage gone. 10,000 square-foot home evaporated. Especially, no G5 now.

He decided to play it naïve. “No, I don’t know. I’m still on a job for Tonya. Can I call you?” They turned and left. He shut the door.

He leaned against the door. “Whew!” He thought, “Where is Z?” I need to contact Z…

Back at the Isle:

As Z rounded the corner of the church he froze in his tracks! Was this his contact?

He cringed. Very lame to be seen talking to livestock. What do you say to a dumb sheep? How’s the pasture? Or, lucky spawn, Lamb Chop. Instead, he glanced right and left and said. “You got something for me?”

His Palm Pilot had tipped him about the contact. On the plane, a message said:

Note a sheep’s low bleat
The shepherd’s ear in tune to;
The veil starts to come off!.

Pitiful attempt at Haiku, he thought.

The sheep looked at him. “Bleeattt. Baaaaaa. Areaaaaaeeeeeeffect”

Eh? “I’ll have to think about that,” he said, scratching his head. His brain was working though.

Committed to R&R, he ate a leisurely dinner at a pub in Douglas then rented a road bike.

On the Port Erin Cycle Route, he began climbing a small hill.

But it was not a small hill. This was the D’Alpe D’Huez and this was the Tour De France! And the car ahead was no car. It was Lance Armstrong!

The announcer screamed:

“The great English cyclist, Z, has left Ivan Basso in a cloud of dust. He is fast approaching the yellow jersey, Lance Armstrong. He is stamping on the pedals into this next turn, moving like a Grand Prix motor car! Is there no stopping this man?!”

As he was passing the car on the curve, he looked in the window. The large female from the plane was pooching her lips at him. Another shady character sat on her right driving. Shocked, he drove straight off a high bluff, fell forty feet into cold water, but was pulled up by strong hands into an Irish fishing boat.

“Get me away from her,” he spluttered.

Last edited: Monday, September 27, 2004 at 4:08:35 PM

This is all my fault...

-----SIZE really DOESN'T matter... I just said it did because I was angry.
-----It DOES happen to other guys... It is fairly typical, could be you had anxiety, stress getting the best of you, etc... You are not less of a man...
-----It really DOESN'T mean that you are more attracted to men than women....

Sorry for saying those things before... Come back to us, NO PRESSURE mind you!

(hee-hee-hee)

Last edited: Sunday, September 19, 2004 at 3:50:43 AM

Im dissapointed, TankGirl. I dont know WHAT you said, but if I could be informed, I can help to get -Z- back!

Garfan124@gmail.com

Sticks and stones CAN break bones, but words hurt the most.

Right your wrongs.

E-mail me the facts. But he IS back.he is watching usvia the web. On this website, I DO think hes watching us and forgiving us. He has been listening to our pleads for him to come back, but still hurts from our harsh comments.

@ Tankat62

Apparently you missed the

Part of Kate's post.

It is the general concensus that -z- is in the process of putting biscuits on his table.......

Wow. This is really getting to be a great page turner!! :)

I saw -z- today he said he was workin on the master servers lag XD

Great work, KBC. Too bad you can't use all this in a work-references portfolio. This is what I did at PTT thing. :)

Hehehe. I can see that job interview. "Here's my portfolio of what I did when I should have been working. Will the position I'm interviewing for allow me to..." *recieves swift kick in the butt as he's thrown out the door. %)

ROFLOL!

Shocked, he drove straight off a high bluff, fell forty feet into cold water, but was pulled up by strong hands into an Irish fishing boat.

Strong, but supple hands. He marveled at the rich, moisturized skin of the velvety-soft hands that slowly caressed him. Z's gaze slowly rose to meet the eyes of his rescuer. It was TankGirl.

Inexplicably, she had an Irish accent and said; "AArgh! Yer a strong man, -z-, but a mite stronger than ye should be! That's why ye need Irish Spring, the Deodorant Soap!" Z whipped out a pocket knife and inexplicably began whittling on a bar of soap. TG continued speaking. "Manly yes, but I like it too."

"Why am I in a commercial?" z wondered. Then the peculiar image began to fade from his mind, and Z realized the bizarre incident must have been the result of a blow to his head from the forty foot drop.

"Get me away from her," he spluttered.

Back in Oregon, Laggy was pondering the strange visit from two government agents. "How does this tie into Pokemalo and bank card companies?" he wondered. As for the odd transmissions from his neighborhood, it was probably just Geraldo again. "Probably using his video phone for one of those lame [I'm live from laggy's lawn] newscasts." Even now, he could hear Old Duffer chasing some journalists around the back of the house. He chuckled to himself at the sound of lawn chairs hitting the sound crew as they scrambled over the fence. Sweet.

"I need to contact Z" he thought. 56k began sifting through the PTT forums. Maybe there's something in there that can help. "...hmmm. Dizzle my nizzle fo shizzle. Nope. I'm leaving for an hour. Nope. Z PLZ HELP!!!!!!!!!!!! Nope. Wait! What's this?"

A giant aluminum robot! Could this have anything to do with the disappearance of Z? Laggy whipped out a pocket knife and inexplicably began whittling on a bar of soap.

Noice! Now how can I put this into that for when...........

As -z- forgotten about TT and his people? Will PTT become a slime mold? What's going on?!?!? Something just isn't right. -z- isn't sick. I'm extremely worried. I hope -z-'s ok. Did he grow out of TT?

Augh!!!! Nooooo!!!!!!!!!! How could he forget!!!!! His MASS website with.... Exactly 830 members!!!!!

Well I guess...

Last edited: Thursday, September 23, 2004 at 5:57:31 PM

Z slumped back into the shadows of Darkey Kelly’s pub. He was seated on a rear bench. On the table in front of him was a sandwich and drink. Music pulsed across the room from the fiddle, bodhran, guitar, pipes, and pennywhistle of the band.

He smiled. This may be a world with only one spawn, but there were some power-ups and some were very satisfying.

After sleeping in late in a bed above the pub, and lounging through the shops in and around Dublin’s Temple Bar in the afternoon, he had come to a decision: This was to be a pub-to-pub type of vacation. Good food, comfortable sleeping, pleasant sounds and sights.

The outside world was no longer the illusion outside the hole in the wall, uh, window of his apartment. His mind focused back on the problem behind the vacation. In fact, what had led to his “vacation”.

This world's uneven team play did have its advantages. One was that he could move solo and very incognito. Additionally, not only had he left the egg in the fridge, he had taken another precaution. He opened a bank account under an alias and transferred several million in stock investments into it.

He was in no pinch for funds.

The band played “Chief O’Neills Hornpipe”.

He pulled out a legal pad and pen and started to doodle. This was becoming hard to sort out without a quiet “think.” In addition, his brain was still clouded from faulty parachute jumps, cliff diving with bikes, and a hangover from PTT mind control. In fact, he was finding it hard to stop having random PTT flashbacks.

He started to doodle. He needed a chance to quietly arrange the puzzle’s pieces.

He wrote “hardboiled egg” then “the Macaw” on the pad and circled each.

“What was the connection?” he asked himself... In his mind’s eye, a scene replayed: His body tumbling earthward. Hurtling chaotically upward in slow motion went old pizza boxes, old newspapers, and junk mail. Then he crashed face first into his easy chair’s ottoman.

He experienced an increased presence of mind, he remembered.

He rubbed his head and looked around self-consciously. The spot where he had gotten the blow to his head after going over the cliff smarted still. But nothing else. However, he still looked through the pub’s dim light to make sure TankGirl might not be actually seated somewhere nearby anyhow. A redheaded woman was on her way out the exit, with a five-year-old in hand. He heard her fussing, “You’ve been potty trained for three years, and I can’t believe you!”

Seconds after bopping his head, he had run to his computer's keyboard while his lucid mind continued to function. He went through old logs of TT games. “Ah, ha,” he shouted. At that moment, he had jumped up and fixed the hard-boiled egg. Then he got on the phone with the bank and opened the account.

Strange codes were running in extra scripts on CTF servers. He knew instantly that only a memory block could have prevented him from seeing them before that moment.

Later back on TT in a scrum server, he heard a voice slowly and softly chanting: “Play just one more…play one more…” Lucidity collapsed.

Part 1 of 3…

Last edited: Sunday, September 26, 2004 at 7:14:25 PM

LOL!! I think we are overreacting with this story in my opinion... :P :P :P

Woot! XD Can't wait for the rest of the trilogy!

A giant aluminum robot! Could this have anything to do with the disappearance of Z? Laggy whipped out a pocketknife and inexplicably began whittling on a bar of soap.

As he whittled, he walked into the backyard where the lawn furniture was still scattered around from Old Duffer’s rampage. It was quiet. He sat and continued carving soap, deep in thought.

Suddenly, on the flat fence over which the journalists had scrambled, there appeared a bright window. In it, a holographic image was playing of an Irish band. A sandwich and drink were on a table.

Laggy shook his head. The image dissolved.

He was aware of Z’s thoughts! Why?!

It was NueroSIA! In a flash, the answer came to him!

AMC promised him huge money to use NeuroSIA to transmit a message to players in TT servers. Transmit the words and you’ll be rich, Laggy, they’d told him.

“Play one more…just one more…”

Ho, ho, but the power of NeuroSIA was beyond what anyone except Laggy knew! Laggy had AMC’s secrets. The bank card companies. Who was behind AMC….

However, the realization came in a brainstorm! Z had been overcome by the power of NueroSIA!

Laggy had not been aware of any link to Z until now…

“I need to contact Z!”

He ran back into the house. As he ran down the hallway to his computer, he looked at the bar of soap in his hand. It was carved into the shape of cell phone. “Right, call somebody!” he said.

He called the FBI. “Hello, may I talk to the Men in Black?”

“You watch movies too much,” replied a tired voice, which sounded like that of a typical government employee. “Nobody in law enforcement around here goes out in black suits with knife-edge creases and wears reflective sunglasses.”

“It was AMC! They checked on my loyalty!” screamed Laggy as he hung up. He had to run for it.

He hooked up NeuroSIA and let loose a channel-wide broadcast. “Z is on the way to Oregon!” A quick message.

Still, weak genius that he was, the money tempted him. Get the money and run for it? Or, just head straight for Canada? What goodbye message would he leave to Old Duffer, Paco, and the rest of the family? What choice will he make? "All that money, so much money…………………..”

His introspection was interrupted by a knock at the door. 56K swung open the door. It wasn’t who he expected to see…

Part 2 of 3...

Last edited: Tuesday, January 18, 2005 at 9:34:43 AM

Alien Mind control, Beta - 4, we have a problem here. Seems some people of the PTT community know about your little "incedent" with -z-......
I'll take out the persons spreading this information, then I'll get back up to HQ to update status logs. They seem to be quite out of date. Sorry about that, I got a little behind on work.

Here's the update to the log ahead of time, please review it, make sure it's right:

Universal Date - 17/44/109a
Seems some people know there whereabouts of -z-. My first task will be to take them out, then make sure all other information of the hq is truncated. I sent out a call for my ship, it should be back to Earth in a few days. I need it to get back to HQ, nobody up there will come pick me up, as it's too risky to land down here.
Further updates after I'm done that task.

Ok, thanks for reviewing guys, any news on that promotion? I really could use a new plasma cannon on that pile of junk I got. I'm living paycheque to paycheque here, hardly could afford that thing in the first place.

Oh CRAP! Wrong submit button...... Uhhh.... Pretend I didn't say anything, ok?

Darn humans..... Errr. NOTHING!... Uhhh.....

-z- put the book down. He wasn't sure what to make of the prohibition on soap lobsters. "I may be wondering off topic," he thought to himself.

Last edited: Sunday, September 26, 2004 at 2:40:33 AM

Lol! I love these serial novels! Can't wait for the next installment. This is going to make a great TV series. Twin Peaks meets X Files meets Monty Python . :)

Brb, someone is at the door.

Back. It was just Nathan. I brained him with some lobster soap.

...ummm what was the topic again?

Go kbn! I love the monty python series XD

-Worm

"Huh.... What the.... Where am I........
who am I?
Ugh.... Lobster soap... Soapy lobster..... What? Oh man I'm going crazy...."

Nathan woke up, and looked at his surroundings. It was dark, and he thought he could smell soap. He felt something by his side, and reached for it.
"Hmmmm, what's this now?" he said to himself, "it feels like.... A wet lobster!"
He picked it up, and sampled a taste.
"This is no lobster!" He said to himself, realizing it was actually a bar of soap.
He scrambled to his feet, and ran to a small window. All he could see was black outside. It was cold out there. He then ran to another window, this one with some light coming though. He could hear voices in the next room.
"Yeah, he's in there. We found him in KBC's yard, with a bar of soap shaped like a lobster."
"Strange. Get this 'KBC' up here, I want to speak to him. Anyone capable of using a bar of soap to subdue Nathan is surely great."
"Sure, I'll send out for him. We've landed, should we open the door?"
"Yes, open it."
The back wall of the room Nathan was in suddenly began to open. He peered out. All he could see outside were some trees, a beach, and a dark reddish-brown colored sky. It was clearly evening, and the sky was as if there were a fire somewhere nearby.
He scrambled out. The room he was just in suddenly lit up as the door closed. Suddenly flames appeared below it, and it went up into the sky.
"Wow!" Nathan thought to himself, "that's cool. I better look around, and figure out where I am!"
He explored the woods and the shoreline for hours. After 4 hours of walking, he saw a small trail of smoke leading up into the sky. He headed for it.

Hello. I'm Stewart Johnson of PBS. Did you know that every year, hundreds of thousands of ch... *changes channel* XD

I like lobster :[

Lucidity collapsed…

But later, after he ate the parrot, it came back.

Once too often, the parrot squawked “Order food!” The last time, food was delivered just by opening the cage door.

After that hunger led to the egg. He knew that it would, if he fell prey again.

He took a bite of the sandwich.

Startled, Z looked up. At that moment, on the other side of the table, the ghost of 56K in NueroSIA appeared.

“Z is on the way to Oregon,” said the ghost. Then it dissolved. Like Hamlet’s father’s ghost…

Instantly he knew the source of the PTT memory block and flashbacks.

It was Laggy and his NueroSIA. Their link was partly telepathic now, too.

However, he knew Laggy had been used by AMC to get to him.

No matter!

Z was now hunting the hunter.

He purchased a more powerful Palm Pilot with Bluetooth while in Temple Bar. Then he did a little reverse programming. Now, its GPS connection could target a specific area.

Clues on the old Palm Pilot told all as he studied it last night. The code that was in the August 13 post was there.

His reverse codes tied him securely to the Master Server. (He swiped and improved on AMC’s encoding techniques.) Now, he used the server to get to anything within a specific physical area.

As usual, Z was two steps ahead of them all…

He paid for his meal and walked out the exit.

A huge figure walked up the street. “Hello, Honey!” It was her , again.

“Z, Smoochiepoo, I want the Palm Pilot!”

In the shadows, well behind her, he saw the shape of the driver of the car from the Isle of Man.

Z touched a button on his Palm Pilot.

A flash lit up the street. The female’s head disappeared first. The body faded away. Instantly high above, a hole appeared in the clouds.

“That’s what I thought,” he said.

From the shadows came: “Weak, b#@$h!” Hysterical laughing faded off in the distance.

“Don’t tantalize me,” said Z.

Feeling a little theatrical, and fired up, he laid back his head and yowled out the quote made by Mark Anthony in Shakespeare's Julius Caesar :

And Z, ranging for revenge, with Ate [the Roman god of chaos] by his side come hot from hell, shall in these confines with a monarch’s voice cry ‘HAVOC!’ and let slip the dogs of war… YAAAAAAAAH!

“Naaaaaah” he changed his mind.

AMC can harass all it can. The war was over. He was having a pub-to-pub adventure and visiting folks. Or try...

Just then a delivery boy carrying a small ornamental Palm Tree walked by. “Have you seen Z? Special delivery.”

“No,” said Z. He was incognito.

Later on a flight to Vancouver, Z stared out the plane window. Briefly, he thought he saw a giant aluminum robot made of beer cans fly by. In one of its windows, he saw a person. “Nathan?!”

Z sat back and went to sleep…

Part 3 of 3...

Last edited: Sunday, October 03, 2004 at 9:58:37 AM

Awww, guess the bank repo'ed my old ship.... And I only had 3 payments left too! Do they really care if they lose a quarter of a million dollars?! XD

Lol! Great Job JJ! XD
_{*I wonder if they need help with materials for a second robot?}

KBC,

Who was at the door?

Who was the sheep? How did it come to be there? What is "areaaaaaaaaaeeeeffect" mean?

Last edited: Tuesday, January 18, 2005 at 9:37:55 AM

Sounds like fun. Wonder what the Female Ape has to do with all this? :) I might have to re-do that book cover. XD

Feel free to jump in anytime -z-!

My alcohol-powered ship will rule all!
*crashes into billboard*

Not really an extension to the story, but amusing nonetheless. Which Colossal Death Robot Are You?

Last edited: Saturday, October 02, 2004 at 8:25:34 PM

Ack, it wont work...

I clicked nothing and I'm an....to be continued... yeah right

I'm not a robot, I just fly one made out of beer cans.

I guess..... :)

...& all the money donated was spent on quenching my insatiable thirst for dry vermouth...

Last edited: Tuesday, October 05, 2004 at 3:30:02 AM

Get well and/or Happy Birthday, Z!

32 years!

Poke your head in sometime soon!

Last edited: Tuesday, November 09, 2004 at 4:50:19 PM

Z sat back and went to sleep.

He never heard the explosive decompression as the plane ripped apart in the skies over Mount St. Helens. Still strapped to his seat, he was violently sucked from the aircraft and flung into the deep blue autumn sky. A twisted, fiery ballet of debris swirled around his head as he plunged toward the rapidly approaching earth. His hands clutched the armrest of his chair with a vise-like grip and ONE thought raced through his mind...

"Why is Cat Stevens sitting in the seat next to me?" How had Homeland Security let this obvious islamic terrorist board the plane? Everyone jump upon the peace train?!?! "Sounds like Al-Qaeda recruiting to me!!" Z forced his hand to release it's grip on the chair. A mighty wind rushed upward around them as the seats, still bolted together, continued their decent. Through sheer willpower, he forced his hand into a fist and punched the terrorist leader squarely between the eyes.

Strange how moments like this seemed to move in slow-motion. All of his senses were uploading information to his brain at an incredible rate. The sensation of free falling to earth, the surprise and terror of awakening to his current predicament, the satisfaction of punching Yusef Islam, and the sheer wonder and relief of seeing a parachute deploy from the back of the seats.

With a quick jerk, the pair's rapid decent turned into a gentle floating ride. His attention quickly turned to the large plumes of smoke mixed with jets of hot lava that spewed violently from the mountain below.

It had Laggy's full attention as well. As he stood on the slopes of Mount St. Helens, he reflected briefly on his poor choice of routes to Canada. Making the best of a bad situation, he quickly threw the ring of power into the hot cauldron of lava below him. The cheers of several nearby hobbits briefly lifted his spirits, but not for long.

He was suddenly aware of the fact that he was now viewing his body from above. "I must be dead." 56k thought to himself. Curiously, instead of rising toward the light, he seemed to be descending. "That's probably not good. Maybe I should reflect on my life for a moment and...wait a minute!" He suddenly realized he was seeing himself through the eyes of Z! The Neurosia telepathic link must be growing! "But if I can see myself, that must mean that z is..."

...with the sound of a hollow coconut, Laggy's thoughts were interrupted as Z and Cat landed on his head.

Meanwhile in a nearby field, a giant aluminum robot gently lowered z's plane on to a soft lavender meadow. A large hole in the side of the plane revealed one set of chairs missing. Using astounding beer can aluminum technology it quickly matched the passenger seating chart with the missing chairs and came up with 2 names.

"Curses! Z has escaped yet again!!" Nathan was pretty sure the large, disembodied brains back at AMC would not be happy. A blinking red light on the control panel brought his attention back to the passenger manifest. One name was highlighted. "OMG! It's....."

Ooh baby baby it's a wild world!

Wow and between Christmas ads too!

GJ!

LOL.

Oh, and by the way KBC....

:)

Last edited: Friday, October 15, 2004 at 9:24:14 PM

Last edited: Friday, October 15, 2004 at 9:41:48 PM

ACK! How do you put up one of those pictures?

One name was highlighted. OMG! It’s…

On the edge of Mount St. Helens, Z looks up and sees Nathan walking toward him. He hit the button on his Palm Pilot and Nathan’s head vanished in a flash. The rest of his body faded away rapidly.

“Meh,” said Z, turning to the groggy Yusef Islam.

Suddenly, the beer-can spacecraft parked on the meadow is now a wrecked FedEx cargo plane in the surf near an island…

And Tom Hanks, sitting by a fire on the beach with guitar in hand, has replaced Yusef. Hanks strums a guitar and sings: “I’m being followed by a moon shadow…”

Z shook his head hard to clear it. This is like a dream.

He seemed to be having a rapidly increasing number of telepathic links from NeuroSia. He heard knocking at a door. Then, before him, he sees 56K slowly opening a door.

OMG! It’s …

56K is standing up in a black, new Hummer, his body hanging half out of the vehicle’s sunroof. The Hummer is the only vehicle on the empty Alaskan highway. He is screaming and throwing $50 bills in the air.

“Precioussssss, my Precioussssss!!!”

Hit it big on the credit card scam, Z assumed. Some people just can’t handle the big bucks…

Mount St. Helens was a good show, better if it decided to do more. It was nothing compared with the recent baseball game!

He was seated with New Yorkers near the foul pole in the outfield bleachers. He did not understand American baseball, but he was here!

There was the crack of the bat. A ball, a small white dot in the sky, was arcing toward him.

A voice said, “Lift the curse of the Bambino!”

“Who is the Bambino?” he wondered. Involuntarily, his hands started shaking the foul pole. He understood out of bounds from English cricket, anyway. His shaking caused the ball to hit the pole and spin into the stands. It was fair! It was a homerun!

Sox will win the Series! The Sox will win the Series!

“DID I DO THAT??!!!” screamed Z…

His head was spinning like a Frisbee. Like Frisbee in Frisbee golf!

Several players in his group are watching him. “Throw it already,” said one. “You’re tying up the whole course.”

Suddenly he is cracked on the back of the head by a disc. An impatient player in a foursome behind their group has blindsided him.

Again, there is a pounding on a door. This time, he opens the door…

OMG! It’s…

George Herman Babe Ruth at the door, no mistake! Black hair, flat wide nose, moon-pie face. “Thanks, kid,” said Ruth. “I am free from the curse too. Have a candy bar”

Ruth’s face quickly vanishes and is replaced with…

Z is poised on the edge of basket of a hot air balloon high in the sky. He is bungee jumping out a hot air balloon! Z, the ultimate thrill seeker!

He wanted a big enough adventure to be in the Guinness Book of World Records. No fear factor here, baby! No phony American reality TV!

He leaps into the clouds. Free falling several hundred feet toward the Oregon wilderness! The bungee cords tug on his ankles.

OH NO! The balloon is being pulled down! And sideways! The ground is fast coming toward him.

From the newspaper The Oregonian , page 10:

OMG! It’s…

Z sees a man working intently at a Mac. He tries to stand up but he is stuck to his chair. He falls over sideways on the floor and is wrestling to get the chair off, which is still stuck. His hips wedged tight between uprights.

A clear case of GRAB, Z thinks to himself. A condition common to graphic artists, computer programmers, and bookkeepers, GRAB is a physical problem resulting from being too long in an office chair.

In the distance, a woman’s voice complains, “ You either build hardware store ads or play that asinine tank game all day. Never any time for anything else. Last time you took me to a romantic dinner was three months…”

Again, a distant knocking at a door. OMG! It’s…

It is pitch-black night. In the shadows across the street from the 60-story building that houses BraveTree in downtown Eugene, stands Z. Clothed in black jogging shoes, black pants, and a black turtleneck, he feels like a spy out of cheap spy novel…

Part 1 of the Ending...

Addendum

Finis:

The knocking became like thunder. Z sat up quickly in his easy chair. A copy of Return of the King hit the floor, falling into piles of Baby Ruth candy bar wrappers, drink cans, pizza boxes, old newspapers, and travel brochures. He opened the door. The cleaning lady banefully looked him over.

"You've missed four cleanings in a row and you've made me fifteen minutes late," she scowled. He stepped aside and let her pass. "No more late night pizzas with the pineapple bits and little fishies," he thought. He held his stomach and moaned. A bad way to sleep. He looked at the chair.

A second cleaning person walked in. She was brunette with shoulder length hair...

"Would have been nice to know where the dream would have taken me when I attacked the BraveTree Building," he thought.

The litter was noisily being collected off the floor.

"Huh, I need that break."

Last edited: Tuesday, January 18, 2005 at 11:17:34 AM

Wohoo! It's back! Nice work JJ!

I didn't know they had a 60 story HQ! I did a quick search for Eugene, Oregon and WOW! They really dominate the skyline.

Also, I like the part about the guy that's wasting his time building hardware store ads or playing that asinine tank game all day. Hehehe. Sounds like this guy needs to...um hey! Wait a minute! :o XD

Last edited: Tuesday, November 09, 2004 at 3:49:27 PM

oh dear.. Seems I don't have robot, how about this?http://img29.exs.cx/img29/2260/3tanks.jpg ummmmmmm...better try that again. What the catogry again?