Saturday, September 19, 2009
The Armageddon Spectacular, Book 1: Robot Monkey Zombies!
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Saturday, September 5, 2009
This Is Your 2nd Warning that the Factory Warranty on Your Vehicle Has Expired...
One would believe that telephones only exist on Earth. But in fact, they are everywhere.
On Earth, inventors like Alexander Graham Bell, Innocenzo Manzetti and Thomas Edison are credited with coming up with the idea. Some would argue which one specifically invented what would become the common telephone used today, but in reality the question should be which one of them was the conduit through which the Intergalactic Kingdom of Communication introduced the idea of the telephone to Earth.
And all over the cosmos, the chronos and all places of afterlife, beforelife and duringlife in existance......there are calls being made. Simple communication ("Mr. Watson, come here, I want to see you."), more complex communication ("Mr. Watson, go set that timer for 7:15pm, then make sure my dry cleaning is done, call my wife and tell her I'll be late tonight, pick up the kids and bring one to her recital and one to the library, inform the council I'm going on sabbatical from August 15th to October 20th, then again from October 25th to December 2nd, and then list off all assets to the tax preparers and accountants, but NOT the lawyers."), intimate communication ("Oh yeah, baby. That's the spot. Work it, tell me what to...oh shit, wait....is that still you, Watson?!") and so on are transported everywhere, at speeds unfathomable to the minds of man.
One would also believe that telemarketing and other annoyances via the telephonic realm exists only on Earth...that the world of mortal man is the only place where such aggravations trangress.
But everyone is vulnerable to that kind of annoyance.
EVERYONE.
***HEAVEN***
{phone rings}
St. Peter: Hello, Heaven's Gates..........um, excuse me?..........how did you get this number?..........oka..........okay, hold on..........HOLD ON!!! Let me get you a manager. Please hold..........PLEASE HOLD. [puts calls on hold and transfers away] Fuck me sideways, I hate telemarketers.
{elsewhere, another phone rings}
Cadmus: Hello, dwelling of the Almighty..........oh geez..........I thought we told you people we don't need..........excuse..........excuse me? Wait, did you say..........you DID say that..........okay, listen. On behalf of the Lord God Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth and other places..........we no longer partake in the adventures of "Quantum Piett"..........yes, that's correct..........no, we will not assist them in any manner, our association with those particular people concluded some years ago..........yes, that's correct..........yes, please remove us from your call list. In fact, I'm pretty sure we were the FIRST name placed on the DO NOT call list. Got it?..........alright, good. Now please hang up, or I can have him unmake you and your family..........yeah, I know, harsh. But He's God and He can do that kind of shit..........right. Thank you..........THANK YOU. [hangs up] God, fuck me sideways...
WHAT WAS THAT, CADMUS?
Cadmus: Nothing! Nothing at all!! [takes a sip of water] Goddesses, I thought we were DONE with those people forever....
***SILICON VALLEY, USA***
{phone rings}
{phone rings}
{phone rings}
{phone rings}
You have reached the voicemail of--
Webmaster: The Webmaster.
Please leave a message at the sound of the beep.
BEEP.
Telemarketer voice: Hello, Mr. Webmaster. I am calling on behalf of your associates at Quantum Piett: travelling thru space and time to protect your ass from bad shit and stuff. We were just inquiring on your whereabouts and whether you would be able to assist in a new quantum adventure. If you would like to partake, please contact us as soon as possible. Thank you for your time.
***IN A HELLISH NIGHTMARISH PLACE INDEED***
{phone rings}
{phone rings}
{phone ri--
Tracie: Hi!
Telemarketer voice: Hello. We'd like to speak with--
Tracie: Hi!
Telemarketer voice: Yes, hi, We'd like to--
Tracie: Hi!
Telemarketer voice: Okay, really now? We'd like t--
Tracie: Hi!
Telemarketer voice: Come on, what the hell! Just let me--
Tracie: Hi!
Telemarketer voice: ARGH! Just put Ms. A--
Tracie: Hi!
Telemarketer voice: Oh, you're so ANNOYING!!! Sto--
Tracie: Hi!
Telemarketer voice: JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, ENOUGH!!! JUST STOP IT!!STOP IT!!STOPITSTOPIT!!!!!
[Pause]
Tracie: Hi!
Telemarketer voice: You are incredibly rude and I don't ever want to call this number again. GOODBYE! [hangs up]
[Long pause]
Tracie: Hi!
Ashley: Oh, Tracie, what the hell! Put the phone down, sweetie. [hangs up phone] Who was that?
Tracie: Just some asshole.
Ashley: WHOA! [pause] I'm not gonna spank you or even offended, that was actually pretty funny.
***A LONG TIME AGO, IN ANOTHER GALAXY...PERHAPS FAR FAR AWAY...***
{phone rings}
Technician: We have a telephone? [picks up] Hello?..........what was that??..........seriously?! Of all the times..........listen, I can't..........look..........look, we're in the middle of, like, a HUGE battle here..........yes..........outer space battle..........over some forest moon, big space station that shoots lasers, whole armadas going at it..........listen, I..........I have to be manning the shields, or we're gonna blow, and NGAAAHHHHHHH..........oh son of a BITCH, we just lost bridge deflectors, see what you made me do..........screw this crap, you're not listening and I gotta file a repor..........wait, is that a ship heading right towar--
[The line goes dead]
***IN A VERY CRAZY PLACE INDEED***
{phone rings}
Miskatonic Asylum, this is Frank..........no, I'm not an inmate...I'm pretty sure they don't let inmates answer the phone here..........what's that now?..........we get telemarketing calls here?!..........no, no, listen I can't..........I can't give you over to an inmate..........yes, that's correct, the man you refer to, "Graham," is definitely an inmate here..........stark raving, yes..........I don't know what stark raving specifically means, but he's nuts and wrapped up in a straight jacket..........I don't know, something about..........hey, Louie, what's that crap Graham talks about all the time??..........oh yeah, yeah..........yeah, something about quantum mechanics and eternal temporaries...mumbo-jumbo, really..........nonsense, blabber, gobbledygook..........Jesus, are you even human? These are just other words for "shit crazy people talk about because it doesn't make any sense"..........wait, what?..........on hold?!
Louie: Frank, what is it?
Frank: Some telemarketing scheme.
Louie: Just hang up.
Frank: Hang on, I wanna see how this goes.
Louie: Are you serious?
Frank: Dude, we work in an insane asylum. Nothing but maniacs yelling every single day for the last 6 years I've worked here. This is easily the highlight of my career.
Louie: You're actively entertaining this? You're conversing and taking part in a real telemarketing scheme.
Frank: Well it's this or wash the shit out of some crazy person's mouth. Again.
Louie: I guess. But listen, just don't give them any personal info or credit card numbers.
Frank: Louie, I might work around crazy people, but I'm not actually crazy.
Louie: Yet.
Frank: ..........hold on, hello?..........yeah I'm here..........what?..........WHAT?? [smacks Louie on the arm]..........hang on, say that again..........you're seriously telling me that you know someone..........2 people who can validate everything this guy is saying as TRUE?!..........wow..........yeah, yeah, hold on....................ok, my card number is 4--
Louie: Hang up HANG UP!!!!! [forces the phone out of Frank's hands and hangs up] IDIOT! I told you that would happen!!
Frank: Man, those telemarketers are hypnotic...
[Pause]
Frank: So you think anything's gonna come of this part?
Louie: No, just a bit for the continuity freaks is all. And space filler, too.
***ON A SPACE STATION ORBITING THE PLANET EARTH***
{phone rings}
H-h-hello?..........yes, this is he..........what's that?..........who are you calling on behalf o..........oh, oh no..........no no, I won't be able to help..........no, it's a very bad idea for this to contin..........I have to hang up..........I HAVE TO HANG UP!! [hangs up]
Cosmos: Cecil, was that a cellphone?
Cecil: What? No. No, sir, it wasn't. Just one of the radars acting funny again.
Cosmos: You sure? Radars don't usually sound like Dean Martin singing.
Cecil: This one does, sir, yes.
Cosmos: ....................I'm keeping my eye on you..........
***ON THE PLEASURE PLANET GIGGITY-PRIME***
{phone rings}
Booster Rocket: Yeah, hello?..........who's..........oh, really, on the middle of a vacation??
Jungle Girl: Who is it, sweetie?
Booster Rocket: Three guesses.
Jungle Girl: The IRS?
Booster Rocket: No.
Jungle Girl: The repo man?
Booster Rocket: No.
Jungle Girl: Bastion Booger?
Booster Rocket: ......oh, I see what you were doing there. You were making random wrestling gimmick jokes. Very cute, please stop watching that shit though, it's bad for your eyes and brain...
Jungle Girl [to herself]: What?
Booster Rocket: ..........yeah, listen, I'm not interested. My girl and I are on vacation on a pleasure planet, and trust me.....their adventures are the LEAST of my interests right now..........no, I'm not going to tell you what pleasure planet it is..........they're just gonna show up and recruit me against..........what? They're not?..........they wanna know because they wanna GET LAID HERE?..............................[hangs up]
Jungle Girl: It was Piett and the midget, wasn't it?
Booster Rocket: Oh good, the dumb wrestling knowledge didn't rot your brain completely. Yeah, it was. Now let's fuck!
Jungle Girl: Somehow you talking about Piett and then asking to fuck..........makes it hotter.
Booster Rocket: WHAT?!?!?!
***SOMERSET, MASSACHUSETTS, USA***
{phone rings}
Receptionist: Good afternoon, Wookieefarts Incorporated. This is Megan Fox, how can I direct your call?..........yes..........yes..........sir, I'm going to have to stop you there..........sir..........sir, Mr. Walsh is unavailable at the moment and doesn't pay attention to past continuity so clearly anymore anyway..........and Mr. Ponte has left the organization but gives it his blessing to continue without him..........yes, I understand..........sir..........fuck this [hangs up] God, this sucks. I wish I had real talent beyond having a hot body so I could get a job that mattered...
***SIX FEET UNDER***
{phone rings, numerous times, then silence}
Mourner: Was that a phone? Oh well. Well, I don't know who you were, "Ben the Spider-Man," but I found it pretty awesome that somebody named "Spider-Man" was actually buried here near my parents, so
{elsewhere, another phone rings repeatedly}
Mourner: Ok, that is a phone. Where....[walks down the line of graves, many with unusual names for normal people, until he stops at a newly dug and filled grave] Supreme Pontiff Hook? {phone stops ringing} This is creepy on some many levels, it's not even--
{elsewhere, another phone rings repeatedly}
{and another phone rings repeatedly}
{and many other phones rings repeatedly}
Mourner: Who buries people with their activated cellphones on them?!? [starts running around, probably going insane and regretting stopping by thie cemetary now] And why are all these names so strange or collected together when I know they shouldn't be?! Richard Nixon?! Brainia? Duplex? Kara Power? Tom Arnold?!? Drork and Kfith?! Quantum Needa?? ELVIS?!?
[Soon more and more phones are ringing, and the mourner goes mad as he runs away screaminmg and covering his ears. If only he'd realized before now, the graveyard marked "Quantum Piett Cemetary" is not a place normal people should visit......even on a dare...]
***IN AN UNKNOWN PLACE INDEED***
{phone r--}
"We're sorry. This account has been frozen for the indefinite future."
***IN THE SEEDIEST UNDERBELLYIEST PLACE POSSIBLE***
{phone rings}
{phone rings}
Hello, my name's Amber, what's your name?..........don't be shy, baby, speak up..........mmm, hi Evey, how you doin tonight..........you called, baby, so you must want something nasty..........no, we don't get telemarketer calls here, we're telemarketers ourself..........look, you're really killin' my buzz here, how about..........I said my name's Amber, Evey..........well, you don't sound like an Evey, more like some mindless robot..........hey, fuck you, buddy, I don't need your sh..........wait..........wait is there someone laughing at..........tell your boyfriends to stop laughing at..........wait a minute, I know that..........I KNOW THOSE VOICES....................NGGAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! [hangs up]
Jim Ferr: Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod [vomits profusely, then passes out in it]
***TRAVELLING THE STARS***
{phone rings}
George Gaynes: What the....really?! You're calling ME?! I'm fused with the ship you're sitting in, for Christ's sake!!
Piett: Oh shit, sorry dude.
Herve: Yeah, as you can tell we really haven't updated the phone list in a long time. Man, I can't believe all those dead people still had their phones on them.
Piett: I can only imagine if someone heard all that ringing coming from the graves. Heh. So yeah, you two can probably stop now.
[2 robots at a desk disconnect from a phone console and sit back, exhausted.]
EV9D9: Ugh. Thank Christ, this couldn't have ended soon enough. Remind us why you couldn't do this yourselves.
Herve: Because we're lazy and, as you can tell, we had very few other options to help us be lazy.
8D8: We're fucking torture droids from Jabba the Hutt's palace. Why would you possibly think we'd want to do this??
Piett: Admit it, this was not the dumbest thing you've ever done.
8D8: True. We've been robot butlers for George Lucas in another one of Walsh's god-dreadful stories. But seriously, couldn't you have called us to waterboard somebody?
Piett: Not cool, man.
Herve: We don't need the negative spotlight of real life current events on us.
EV9D9: Oh, you pussies. Come on, Eight, let's leave.
Piett: Wait, what about your reports?
8D8: Reports? As in, "did anyone say 'yes' to your desperate attempts for help?" No. No one said yes to your desperate attempts for help.
Herve: Damn. No masses of friends and allies to help out this time, Piett. Guess we gotta go it alone.
Piett: Really, no one? You called everyone?!
EV9D9: Yes, dummy. Everyone. Heaven, Jim Ferr, that chick Ashley, those dead people, Graham, Cecil, the Executor I for some reason, your ex-w--
George Gaynes: Wait a minute....Cecil?! As in the old doorman in the Continuum?
8D8: Yeah. He was on the list, and answered to that name.
Herve [to Piett]: So his name *is* Cecil after all.
George Gaynes: He's still alive?!
Piett: Yeah, and probably still.....[eyes widen]
Piett, Herve and George Gaynes: STILL WITH COSMOS AND CHRONOS!
George Gaynes: Mahoney be praised, we found them!
Piett: Quick, track that call they made and see if we can triangulate or parallelogramate their location!
Herve: Working!
EV9D9: Yeah, we're just gonna leave now. No need for a few torture droids to do.....whatever they're doing.
8D8: We'll hitch a ride home or something.
[Piett, Herve and Gaynes are too hard at work scrambling to reply, so the droids just leave...]
*to be continued*
On Earth, inventors like Alexander Graham Bell, Innocenzo Manzetti and Thomas Edison are credited with coming up with the idea. Some would argue which one specifically invented what would become the common telephone used today, but in reality the question should be which one of them was the conduit through which the Intergalactic Kingdom of Communication introduced the idea of the telephone to Earth.
And all over the cosmos, the chronos and all places of afterlife, beforelife and duringlife in existance......there are calls being made. Simple communication ("Mr. Watson, come here, I want to see you."), more complex communication ("Mr. Watson, go set that timer for 7:15pm, then make sure my dry cleaning is done, call my wife and tell her I'll be late tonight, pick up the kids and bring one to her recital and one to the library, inform the council I'm going on sabbatical from August 15th to October 20th, then again from October 25th to December 2nd, and then list off all assets to the tax preparers and accountants, but NOT the lawyers."), intimate communication ("Oh yeah, baby. That's the spot. Work it, tell me what to...oh shit, wait....is that still you, Watson?!") and so on are transported everywhere, at speeds unfathomable to the minds of man.
One would also believe that telemarketing and other annoyances via the telephonic realm exists only on Earth...that the world of mortal man is the only place where such aggravations trangress.
But everyone is vulnerable to that kind of annoyance.
EVERYONE.
***HEAVEN***
{phone rings}
St. Peter: Hello, Heaven's Gates..........um, excuse me?..........how did you get this number?..........oka..........okay, hold on..........HOLD ON!!! Let me get you a manager. Please hold..........PLEASE HOLD. [puts calls on hold and transfers away] Fuck me sideways, I hate telemarketers.
{elsewhere, another phone rings}
Cadmus: Hello, dwelling of the Almighty..........oh geez..........I thought we told you people we don't need..........excuse..........excuse me? Wait, did you say..........you DID say that..........okay, listen. On behalf of the Lord God Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth and other places..........we no longer partake in the adventures of "Quantum Piett"..........yes, that's correct..........no, we will not assist them in any manner, our association with those particular people concluded some years ago..........yes, that's correct..........yes, please remove us from your call list. In fact, I'm pretty sure we were the FIRST name placed on the DO NOT call list. Got it?..........alright, good. Now please hang up, or I can have him unmake you and your family..........yeah, I know, harsh. But He's God and He can do that kind of shit..........right. Thank you..........THANK YOU. [hangs up] God, fuck me sideways...
WHAT WAS THAT, CADMUS?
Cadmus: Nothing! Nothing at all!! [takes a sip of water] Goddesses, I thought we were DONE with those people forever....
***SILICON VALLEY, USA***
{phone rings}
{phone rings}
{phone rings}
{phone rings}
You have reached the voicemail of--
Webmaster: The Webmaster.
Please leave a message at the sound of the beep.
BEEP.
Telemarketer voice: Hello, Mr. Webmaster. I am calling on behalf of your associates at Quantum Piett: travelling thru space and time to protect your ass from bad shit and stuff. We were just inquiring on your whereabouts and whether you would be able to assist in a new quantum adventure. If you would like to partake, please contact us as soon as possible. Thank you for your time.
***IN A HELLISH NIGHTMARISH PLACE INDEED***
{phone rings}
{phone rings}
{phone ri--
Tracie: Hi!
Telemarketer voice: Hello. We'd like to speak with--
Tracie: Hi!
Telemarketer voice: Yes, hi, We'd like to--
Tracie: Hi!
Telemarketer voice: Okay, really now? We'd like t--
Tracie: Hi!
Telemarketer voice: Come on, what the hell! Just let me--
Tracie: Hi!
Telemarketer voice: ARGH! Just put Ms. A--
Tracie: Hi!
Telemarketer voice: Oh, you're so ANNOYING!!! Sto--
Tracie: Hi!
Telemarketer voice: JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, ENOUGH!!! JUST STOP IT!!STOP IT!!STOPITSTOPIT!!!!!
[Pause]
Tracie: Hi!
Telemarketer voice: You are incredibly rude and I don't ever want to call this number again. GOODBYE! [hangs up]
[Long pause]
Tracie: Hi!
Ashley: Oh, Tracie, what the hell! Put the phone down, sweetie. [hangs up phone] Who was that?
Tracie: Just some asshole.
Ashley: WHOA! [pause] I'm not gonna spank you or even offended, that was actually pretty funny.
***A LONG TIME AGO, IN ANOTHER GALAXY...PERHAPS FAR FAR AWAY...***
{phone rings}
Technician: We have a telephone? [picks up] Hello?..........what was that??..........seriously?! Of all the times..........listen, I can't..........look..........look, we're in the middle of, like, a HUGE battle here..........yes..........outer space battle..........over some forest moon, big space station that shoots lasers, whole armadas going at it..........listen, I..........I have to be manning the shields, or we're gonna blow, and NGAAAHHHHHHH..........oh son of a BITCH, we just lost bridge deflectors, see what you made me do..........screw this crap, you're not listening and I gotta file a repor..........wait, is that a ship heading right towar--
[The line goes dead]
***IN A VERY CRAZY PLACE INDEED***
{phone rings}
Miskatonic Asylum, this is Frank..........no, I'm not an inmate...I'm pretty sure they don't let inmates answer the phone here..........what's that now?..........we get telemarketing calls here?!..........no, no, listen I can't..........I can't give you over to an inmate..........yes, that's correct, the man you refer to, "Graham," is definitely an inmate here..........stark raving, yes..........I don't know what stark raving specifically means, but he's nuts and wrapped up in a straight jacket..........I don't know, something about..........hey, Louie, what's that crap Graham talks about all the time??..........oh yeah, yeah..........yeah, something about quantum mechanics and eternal temporaries...mumbo-jumbo, really..........nonsense, blabber, gobbledygook..........Jesus, are you even human? These are just other words for "shit crazy people talk about because it doesn't make any sense"..........wait, what?..........on hold?!
Louie: Frank, what is it?
Frank: Some telemarketing scheme.
Louie: Just hang up.
Frank: Hang on, I wanna see how this goes.
Louie: Are you serious?
Frank: Dude, we work in an insane asylum. Nothing but maniacs yelling every single day for the last 6 years I've worked here. This is easily the highlight of my career.
Louie: You're actively entertaining this? You're conversing and taking part in a real telemarketing scheme.
Frank: Well it's this or wash the shit out of some crazy person's mouth. Again.
Louie: I guess. But listen, just don't give them any personal info or credit card numbers.
Frank: Louie, I might work around crazy people, but I'm not actually crazy.
Louie: Yet.
Frank: ..........hold on, hello?..........yeah I'm here..........what?..........WHAT?? [smacks Louie on the arm]..........hang on, say that again..........you're seriously telling me that you know someone..........2 people who can validate everything this guy is saying as TRUE?!..........wow..........yeah, yeah, hold on....................ok, my card number is 4--
Louie: Hang up HANG UP!!!!! [forces the phone out of Frank's hands and hangs up] IDIOT! I told you that would happen!!
Frank: Man, those telemarketers are hypnotic...
[Pause]
Frank: So you think anything's gonna come of this part?
Louie: No, just a bit for the continuity freaks is all. And space filler, too.
***ON A SPACE STATION ORBITING THE PLANET EARTH***
{phone rings}
H-h-hello?..........yes, this is he..........what's that?..........who are you calling on behalf o..........oh, oh no..........no no, I won't be able to help..........no, it's a very bad idea for this to contin..........I have to hang up..........I HAVE TO HANG UP!! [hangs up]
Cosmos: Cecil, was that a cellphone?
Cecil: What? No. No, sir, it wasn't. Just one of the radars acting funny again.
Cosmos: You sure? Radars don't usually sound like Dean Martin singing.
Cecil: This one does, sir, yes.
Cosmos: ....................I'm keeping my eye on you..........
***ON THE PLEASURE PLANET GIGGITY-PRIME***
{phone rings}
Booster Rocket: Yeah, hello?..........who's..........oh, really, on the middle of a vacation??
Jungle Girl: Who is it, sweetie?
Booster Rocket: Three guesses.
Jungle Girl: The IRS?
Booster Rocket: No.
Jungle Girl: The repo man?
Booster Rocket: No.
Jungle Girl: Bastion Booger?
Booster Rocket: ......oh, I see what you were doing there. You were making random wrestling gimmick jokes. Very cute, please stop watching that shit though, it's bad for your eyes and brain...
Jungle Girl [to herself]: What?
Booster Rocket: ..........yeah, listen, I'm not interested. My girl and I are on vacation on a pleasure planet, and trust me.....their adventures are the LEAST of my interests right now..........no, I'm not going to tell you what pleasure planet it is..........they're just gonna show up and recruit me against..........what? They're not?..........they wanna know because they wanna GET LAID HERE?..............................[hangs up]
Jungle Girl: It was Piett and the midget, wasn't it?
Booster Rocket: Oh good, the dumb wrestling knowledge didn't rot your brain completely. Yeah, it was. Now let's fuck!
Jungle Girl: Somehow you talking about Piett and then asking to fuck..........makes it hotter.
Booster Rocket: WHAT?!?!?!
***SOMERSET, MASSACHUSETTS, USA***
{phone rings}
Receptionist: Good afternoon, Wookieefarts Incorporated. This is Megan Fox, how can I direct your call?..........yes..........yes..........sir, I'm going to have to stop you there..........sir..........sir, Mr. Walsh is unavailable at the moment and doesn't pay attention to past continuity so clearly anymore anyway..........and Mr. Ponte has left the organization but gives it his blessing to continue without him..........yes, I understand..........sir..........fuck this [hangs up] God, this sucks. I wish I had real talent beyond having a hot body so I could get a job that mattered...
***SIX FEET UNDER***
{phone rings, numerous times, then silence}
Mourner: Was that a phone? Oh well. Well, I don't know who you were, "Ben the Spider-Man," but I found it pretty awesome that somebody named "Spider-Man" was actually buried here near my parents, so
{elsewhere, another phone rings repeatedly}
Mourner: Ok, that is a phone. Where....[walks down the line of graves, many with unusual names for normal people, until he stops at a newly dug and filled grave] Supreme Pontiff Hook? {phone stops ringing} This is creepy on some many levels, it's not even--
{elsewhere, another phone rings repeatedly}
{and another phone rings repeatedly}
{and many other phones rings repeatedly}
Mourner: Who buries people with their activated cellphones on them?!? [starts running around, probably going insane and regretting stopping by thie cemetary now] And why are all these names so strange or collected together when I know they shouldn't be?! Richard Nixon?! Brainia? Duplex? Kara Power? Tom Arnold?!? Drork and Kfith?! Quantum Needa?? ELVIS?!?
[Soon more and more phones are ringing, and the mourner goes mad as he runs away screaminmg and covering his ears. If only he'd realized before now, the graveyard marked "Quantum Piett Cemetary" is not a place normal people should visit......even on a dare...]
***IN AN UNKNOWN PLACE INDEED***
{phone r--}
"We're sorry. This account has been frozen for the indefinite future."
***IN THE SEEDIEST UNDERBELLYIEST PLACE POSSIBLE***
{phone rings}
{phone rings}
Hello, my name's Amber, what's your name?..........don't be shy, baby, speak up..........mmm, hi Evey, how you doin tonight..........you called, baby, so you must want something nasty..........no, we don't get telemarketer calls here, we're telemarketers ourself..........look, you're really killin' my buzz here, how about..........I said my name's Amber, Evey..........well, you don't sound like an Evey, more like some mindless robot..........hey, fuck you, buddy, I don't need your sh..........wait..........wait is there someone laughing at..........tell your boyfriends to stop laughing at..........wait a minute, I know that..........I KNOW THOSE VOICES....................NGGAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! [hangs up]
Jim Ferr: Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod [vomits profusely, then passes out in it]
***TRAVELLING THE STARS***
{phone rings}
George Gaynes: What the....really?! You're calling ME?! I'm fused with the ship you're sitting in, for Christ's sake!!
Piett: Oh shit, sorry dude.
Herve: Yeah, as you can tell we really haven't updated the phone list in a long time. Man, I can't believe all those dead people still had their phones on them.
Piett: I can only imagine if someone heard all that ringing coming from the graves. Heh. So yeah, you two can probably stop now.
[2 robots at a desk disconnect from a phone console and sit back, exhausted.]
EV9D9: Ugh. Thank Christ, this couldn't have ended soon enough. Remind us why you couldn't do this yourselves.
Herve: Because we're lazy and, as you can tell, we had very few other options to help us be lazy.
8D8: We're fucking torture droids from Jabba the Hutt's palace. Why would you possibly think we'd want to do this??
Piett: Admit it, this was not the dumbest thing you've ever done.
8D8: True. We've been robot butlers for George Lucas in another one of Walsh's god-dreadful stories. But seriously, couldn't you have called us to waterboard somebody?
Piett: Not cool, man.
Herve: We don't need the negative spotlight of real life current events on us.
EV9D9: Oh, you pussies. Come on, Eight, let's leave.
Piett: Wait, what about your reports?
8D8: Reports? As in, "did anyone say 'yes' to your desperate attempts for help?" No. No one said yes to your desperate attempts for help.
Herve: Damn. No masses of friends and allies to help out this time, Piett. Guess we gotta go it alone.
Piett: Really, no one? You called everyone?!
EV9D9: Yes, dummy. Everyone. Heaven, Jim Ferr, that chick Ashley, those dead people, Graham, Cecil, the Executor I for some reason, your ex-w--
George Gaynes: Wait a minute....Cecil?! As in the old doorman in the Continuum?
8D8: Yeah. He was on the list, and answered to that name.
Herve [to Piett]: So his name *is* Cecil after all.
George Gaynes: He's still alive?!
Piett: Yeah, and probably still.....[eyes widen]
Piett, Herve and George Gaynes: STILL WITH COSMOS AND CHRONOS!
George Gaynes: Mahoney be praised, we found them!
Piett: Quick, track that call they made and see if we can triangulate or parallelogramate their location!
Herve: Working!
EV9D9: Yeah, we're just gonna leave now. No need for a few torture droids to do.....whatever they're doing.
8D8: We'll hitch a ride home or something.
[Piett, Herve and Gaynes are too hard at work scrambling to reply, so the droids just leave...]
*to be continued*
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