rofl... i have noticed many people in england cannot spell correctly and have often asked me how to spell words lol....
and i am a foreigner!
muhahahah ... :mischievo
and i am a foreigner!
muhahahah ... :mischievo
Pluto is dead.That was my favourite planet, that lil thing up there.
Ok. You need to register with the Europan (The Jovian Moon) customs and excise at which point they will ask you for sixteen different Identification points . . you know the sort . . . Photo, DNA, fingerprints, tenticle prints, how many brains, Number of offspring, home address, recent library books taken out and a financial check through the gestalt banks of Io. (Beware that last one, don't get a check and they come down on you like a dwarf planet. Once you've completed all the paper work in triplicate they will then lose it, bury it and compost it for three years and return it to you for a signiture by, at the very least, three upstanding and stalwart citizens of the intergalactic commenwealth (they ask for this knowing full well that you can't get three upstanding citizens anywhere in the known universe let alone within the galactic commenwealth). Once and if you manage to get your signitories then you need to pass through passport control on Calisto. And you think you had it hard so far . . . Luckily you have family our there, if you didn't I would have said turn back at Jupiter and have a ball on Mars, but as it is . . .
Firstly. Don't smile, blink, breath or even be alive around the customs officials. There is nothing they hate more than an entity showing all the classic sign of life. They hate the paperwork. Better of to play dead and travel freight. If you don't have a hibernatory metabolism or can withstand the cold of space then be prepared to 'grease' the way. These customs guys like nothing more than some good old fashioned 2 stroke oil. God knows what they do with it but it's amazing how a misplaced bottle of such can 'grease' (No pun intended) you passage through to the outer solar system.
If you can survive all of that with a modicum of good humour and health than you are more than amply prepared for the mind numbingly dull tedium of Kuiper belt space and the god awful amount of time it takes to traverse it at those rediculous low speeds that the intergalactic transport management commitee have imposed on it . . . Which brings me onto my run in with the deep space patrol and how to cope with them.
But that another story all together.
I hope that helps.
me thinks funnybear needs to be sent to pluto for 5 years isolation. either that or he needs a publisher. 
Do you know one? Been looking for ages . . .
You have got too much spare time, go get yourself a job
Edit: Or a publisher
Harsh . . .fair. But harsh.
In factI am at work. hence the rather long and protracted posts . . .
In factI am at work. hence the rather long and protracted posts . . .
what job do you do. i want to follow your career. it appears to be sparse of hard work. and i dont know any publishers unfortunately.
Mate. Work is a bit of an issue atm to be honest . . .
But currently I am sat doing stage door of the theatre that I work in (Predominatly as stage crew, flyman, rigger and stuff). It's a no work job (Watch car park and open the door to snotty nosed actors) and not what I do normally (Which is slightly more labour intensive) but it does mean I get to sit on my arse, use the computer and wax lyrical about anything I want.
It won't last for long 'cause I got me a new job which is going to be well full on. Although it doesn't involve Travelling the outer reaches of the solar system. Whcih reminds me, does anyone wanna here about my brush with the Interstella patrol? It's a good story.
Which is what life is all about . . everyone needs a good story or two.
But currently I am sat doing stage door of the theatre that I work in (Predominatly as stage crew, flyman, rigger and stuff). It's a no work job (Watch car park and open the door to snotty nosed actors) and not what I do normally (Which is slightly more labour intensive) but it does mean I get to sit on my arse, use the computer and wax lyrical about anything I want.
It won't last for long 'cause I got me a new job which is going to be well full on. Although it doesn't involve Travelling the outer reaches of the solar system. Whcih reminds me, does anyone wanna here about my brush with the Interstella patrol? It's a good story.
Which is what life is all about . . everyone needs a good story or two.
whey aye!!
lets hear it. i need something to ammuse me.
:guitarist I sing u guy's a song cheer up:P
Let's laugh at german speakers as well, then
It sounds like http://www.dutchtrav.com/pg/sounds/pron/ui.wav
No easy way to explain it :P
Weeeellllll.
There I was. Minding my own business. you know, window down, stereo up, fag in hand, arm hanging out, G/F in the passenger seat, the hyper drive just ticking over. When I thought, hell. I've just had that new NOXious-gas kit fitted and I hadn't really had a chance to try it out yet. I thought that this would impress the new missus. So, I find myself an empty bit of interstellar highway knowing f'shaw that there ain't no cops around. Not at this time of orbit anyway. So I wind up the window, stub out the fag, turn down the stereo (Bat out of Hell, Meatloaf. Good track.), warn the bird and wind up the 'drive. Got 'er going striaght and level and WHAM!!! The Nox slammed in. Man, you've never seen a VX Nova class sub-light move sooooo fast. MAN!!! I shit a brick. I was gripping that joystick so tight that my knuckles turned white. When, all of a sudden there was three, no four, make that six cops on my tail. They must have been hiding behind that advert on the asteroid. You know the one, just past Object 663-994z9alpha. The Coca Cola one. They must have been sat there just waiting for me. Must have seen my Ion trail a mile off. there was nothing I could do. I must have been pulling over 1,000,000 ton when I past them. there was no way I could get this bitch slowed down to the limit. So I thought, F'k it. At this speed I should be round Neptune and going for the sling shot round Pluto before they could even get a lock. I was thinking then, if I nipped through the mining complex, hugged the gravity fields and blatted down the back lane's I should get an inverted reflux before they could get a bead on me.
But oh no. They must have all been having a convention or something. It was police central out there. There was me, shouting at the bird "why are they out here. Havn't they got any real criminals to catch?" and me bird was shouting at me "You b'stard. Your gunna get me killed. Wait till I tell our Dor about this. She's gunna have your gut's for garters".
"Your Dor. Thats the least of my worries your stupid bint. If I get caught I've got six years no remarnd and we're still 50 AU's from home."
At which point I kinda lost it. I rammed that Nox to the max. Everything was screaming at me. My Bird, my Ride, me . . . Things where going pop, things where blowing smoke and that was just the bird. But by christ I did it. I out ran six . . . . . ty of the interstellar corps coppers finest Blues and Two's with a simple VX Nova class Frig.
Although I will let you into a little secret. My mate once told me that they don't like going to deep into Jupiters Magnetic field right. B'cause they don't get the sick pay for all the 'rad exposure. So I ducked in right. Past Io, through the Aurora and into the clouds. Didn't go too far cause this 'ol boat 'o' mine don't like gravity. But just enough to shake the Roz. Doc only reckons it's taken 'bout six years off me. Fair deal for out running the Cops though.
Bird left me. Said six years or not she ain't wasting anymore with me. Sold the Nova too. Got a bird up the duff on Europa whilst 'avin a good night out with the lads. She's dun me for money so I've had to trade in the Nos for something slightly more sedate. A Ford Galaxy Class big bus of a people carrier. Couldn't pull the gas from a nebulae. Damn thing.
So there you go. My brush with law. Take my advice, stay the right side of it and don't get a bird up the duff . . .
Which reminds me of the time when I absconded with the daughter of a powerful mining magnet. he had the entire solar system out looking for us . . .
But that's another story.
You rock, funnybear.
Best read I've had in years.
Best read I've had in years.
funnybear, i look forward to the book. you got some imagination lad.
Mate. I got shit loads where that came from. God knows how many words I got on my harddrive. Maybe I should start a blog or something.
-edit- So. Me and the magnets daughter! Wanna hear?
Bear in mind I'm making this up on the fly so it ain't gunna be all that . . . .
-edit- So. Me and the magnets daughter! Wanna hear?
Bear in mind I'm making this up on the fly so it ain't gunna be all that . . . .
Imagine if you will. Europa-1. Once a frontier laboratory built into the very ice sheet of Europa it soon developed into a bustling colony. The whole place revolves around money and capitalism. From the Deeps where the massive submarines plough the deep Europan oceans for the rich protien harvests to the Uppers that serve the mining cartels and the big Multi-corps. If you got hte money Europa is the place to spend it. If you got the dollar then someone will happily relieve you of it for whatever you want.
It was in some back alley bar when I met her. Man she was stunning. Long, jet black hair. Classic Italian decent looks. Dark, husky and made me bulge in embarrasing places. I saw her walk into the joint, which was one of my favorite haunts. Far enough of the beaten track to escape the Shore Leave Navy boys, Mining Engineers and Tug Jocks but still enough of a place to have a buzz about it. It was a local bar for local people and they knew me there. I had just got of a six month prospecting junket around the asteroid belt and had turned a tidy profit from selling my findings. I got a good rep round these parts and my finds always turn up the goods so money ain't hard to come by.
So there I was. My birthday, sat at the bar minding my own, nursing my pint and smoking my baccy, jawing with the barkeep when in she walked. The entire pub stopped and as one man turned and watched her walk to the bar. You know the kinda girl. It happens in bars everywhere. She knows she's got it and she knows that the pub is silent for her. She rocks up to the bar and settles herself on the seat next to me and orders herself a pint of best. I do like a pint girl. Now I ain't no flash git, I ain't got the patter and I ain't got the looks. I'm a softly softly kinda guy, let them come to me I say. And come to me she did. She leant over and purred in a thick Mediterranean-Jovian accent "Could I trouble you to roll me a cigerette please". She had me, hook line and sinker. We talked about everything, like we where best buddies that hadn't seen each other for ages. We talked about politics (I pride myself on keeping abreast on current affairs), she surprised me by being very well eduacated about all things mining, I should have seen that as a warning. I was hopelessly in love. She was everything I wanted. Great looks, great body and a great mind. Sooner than expected the Barkeep rang time and that awkward moment came when you try and sum up the courage to try and carry on the liason. And so I did. We went out to a local club, a salsa bar run by a mate of mine. They where playing songs from the old time and she showed me some moves on the dance floor, boy could she move.
you couldn't stop me then. I was off. The night of my life. I had the talk, the walk and the cash. We sampled as much as Europa-1 could offer us. We watched the Io transit with it's massive Aurora as the moon circuited Jupiter and we went down and watched the many subs come and go from the docks. We wandered through the Centro district getting noodles from a wok house and we stopped by the Centro park. That's when we kissed. I need not go into to much detail but needless to say I offered to show her my ship. She accepted.
it was a happy few days. Doing what kids do, letting the Auto Nav wander where Auto Navs like to wander, buzzing frieghters, ferry's and cruise ships alike. Just generally having a good time. Neither of us where concerned about the outside world so it came as some surprise when I pinged the net and the first News bulletin came down about the abducted daughter of a Massivle Rich and Famous Mining Magnet. Imagine my real shock and horror when the picture uploaded showing none other than the new love of my life. They even had the registration of my ship and had broadcast the Ident across the entire solar system. I was a dead man. This girl was worth like . . . a Fortunes fortune. She stood to inherit enough money to buy the galaxy ten times over. I was in so much trouble. It was only then that I realised she was stood behind me and had read the Braodcast over my shoulder. "Take me away honey" she said. Her hands on my shoulders. "I'm not part of that life. Take me away."
I had nowhere to take her. My prospecting barge, although a home from home, couldn't out run anything. Sure we could roam the System, hiding in the Asteroid belt, maybe going deep space for a bit. but we couldn't run for ever. Sooner or later we would have to come up for air.
I shook my head. Speechless. I couldn't do anything.
It was then that I got a bounce. I'd been clocked and my Ident recognised as a fugitive carrying an abductee.
"I'll explain" She said. "I'll make sure you won't get into trouble"
"Sorry love. I've been around long enough to know that your father ain't gunna let that happen. I already got six destroyers from your fathers personal fleet, nine local law Frigates, a mining hulk and a couple of bounty hunters all pointing some very big guns in my general direction sowing up on my little screen thingy here. There's nothing for it, your gunna have to go."
So I forced her into the escape pod. Jettisoned it in the vaugue direction of the bounce, rotated my ident, dropped the Barge into overdrive and ran for the hills.
After, of course, a quick fondle for the memory of it.
It took many months of careful hair growth and DNA manipulation to enable me to show my face around Jove again. In fact you could say it wasn't my face anymore, it certainly wasn't my hair.
Apparently they caught a geezer who matched the description sent out and the stupid bugger bought the same ship ident off the same blackmarket shyster that I did who'd been pootling along minding his own business in the same parsec of space that I was. So all that face changing, DNA swapping, hair growing effort was wasted.
She was a looker though.
Which reminds of the time when I once ran the barricade during the inner-outer conflict of '63 with a hold full of contraband french Red wine vinegar . . . but thats another story.
It was in some back alley bar when I met her. Man she was stunning. Long, jet black hair. Classic Italian decent looks. Dark, husky and made me bulge in embarrasing places. I saw her walk into the joint, which was one of my favorite haunts. Far enough of the beaten track to escape the Shore Leave Navy boys, Mining Engineers and Tug Jocks but still enough of a place to have a buzz about it. It was a local bar for local people and they knew me there. I had just got of a six month prospecting junket around the asteroid belt and had turned a tidy profit from selling my findings. I got a good rep round these parts and my finds always turn up the goods so money ain't hard to come by.
So there I was. My birthday, sat at the bar minding my own, nursing my pint and smoking my baccy, jawing with the barkeep when in she walked. The entire pub stopped and as one man turned and watched her walk to the bar. You know the kinda girl. It happens in bars everywhere. She knows she's got it and she knows that the pub is silent for her. She rocks up to the bar and settles herself on the seat next to me and orders herself a pint of best. I do like a pint girl. Now I ain't no flash git, I ain't got the patter and I ain't got the looks. I'm a softly softly kinda guy, let them come to me I say. And come to me she did. She leant over and purred in a thick Mediterranean-Jovian accent "Could I trouble you to roll me a cigerette please". She had me, hook line and sinker. We talked about everything, like we where best buddies that hadn't seen each other for ages. We talked about politics (I pride myself on keeping abreast on current affairs), she surprised me by being very well eduacated about all things mining, I should have seen that as a warning. I was hopelessly in love. She was everything I wanted. Great looks, great body and a great mind. Sooner than expected the Barkeep rang time and that awkward moment came when you try and sum up the courage to try and carry on the liason. And so I did. We went out to a local club, a salsa bar run by a mate of mine. They where playing songs from the old time and she showed me some moves on the dance floor, boy could she move.
you couldn't stop me then. I was off. The night of my life. I had the talk, the walk and the cash. We sampled as much as Europa-1 could offer us. We watched the Io transit with it's massive Aurora as the moon circuited Jupiter and we went down and watched the many subs come and go from the docks. We wandered through the Centro district getting noodles from a wok house and we stopped by the Centro park. That's when we kissed. I need not go into to much detail but needless to say I offered to show her my ship. She accepted.
it was a happy few days. Doing what kids do, letting the Auto Nav wander where Auto Navs like to wander, buzzing frieghters, ferry's and cruise ships alike. Just generally having a good time. Neither of us where concerned about the outside world so it came as some surprise when I pinged the net and the first News bulletin came down about the abducted daughter of a Massivle Rich and Famous Mining Magnet. Imagine my real shock and horror when the picture uploaded showing none other than the new love of my life. They even had the registration of my ship and had broadcast the Ident across the entire solar system. I was a dead man. This girl was worth like . . . a Fortunes fortune. She stood to inherit enough money to buy the galaxy ten times over. I was in so much trouble. It was only then that I realised she was stood behind me and had read the Braodcast over my shoulder. "Take me away honey" she said. Her hands on my shoulders. "I'm not part of that life. Take me away."
I had nowhere to take her. My prospecting barge, although a home from home, couldn't out run anything. Sure we could roam the System, hiding in the Asteroid belt, maybe going deep space for a bit. but we couldn't run for ever. Sooner or later we would have to come up for air.
I shook my head. Speechless. I couldn't do anything.
It was then that I got a bounce. I'd been clocked and my Ident recognised as a fugitive carrying an abductee.
"I'll explain" She said. "I'll make sure you won't get into trouble"
"Sorry love. I've been around long enough to know that your father ain't gunna let that happen. I already got six destroyers from your fathers personal fleet, nine local law Frigates, a mining hulk and a couple of bounty hunters all pointing some very big guns in my general direction sowing up on my little screen thingy here. There's nothing for it, your gunna have to go."
So I forced her into the escape pod. Jettisoned it in the vaugue direction of the bounce, rotated my ident, dropped the Barge into overdrive and ran for the hills.
After, of course, a quick fondle for the memory of it.
It took many months of careful hair growth and DNA manipulation to enable me to show my face around Jove again. In fact you could say it wasn't my face anymore, it certainly wasn't my hair.
Apparently they caught a geezer who matched the description sent out and the stupid bugger bought the same ship ident off the same blackmarket shyster that I did who'd been pootling along minding his own business in the same parsec of space that I was. So all that face changing, DNA swapping, hair growing effort was wasted.
She was a looker though.
Which reminds of the time when I once ran the barricade during the inner-outer conflict of '63 with a hold full of contraband french Red wine vinegar . . . but thats another story.
. . . .Plot hole:
Why did you force her into the escape pod? You could've just jettisoned it, rotated your ident, dropped the barge into overdrive and ran for the hills while they figured out why there was an escape pod without lifesigns shot at them.
The way you write reminds me a lot of Douglas Adams, to be honest.
You know, from back when men were real men, women were real women, and small furry creatures from alpha centauri were real small furry creatures from alpha centauri. Which leads me to the following question... You're other nick wouldn't be Zaphod Beeblebrox, would it?
Why did you force her into the escape pod? You could've just jettisoned it, rotated your ident, dropped the barge into overdrive and ran for the hills while they figured out why there was an escape pod without lifesigns shot at them.
The way you write reminds me a lot of Douglas Adams, to be honest.
You know, from back when men were real men, women were real women, and small furry creatures from alpha centauri were real small furry creatures from alpha centauri. Which leads me to the following question... You're other nick wouldn't be Zaphod Beeblebrox, would it?
Funnybear should really start on a book, that becomes a radioshow, that also becomes a movie that deviates from the plot line to throw in a romance between an earth girl and the President of the Universe... <.< Not that that sounds familar to any other book that could have been written, such as a book written by Douglas Adams and incorporates the number 42 through out... :hide:
Dude, you've got me hooked. You've got some serious talent there :up:
Can we expect more shorts from your good self?Exactly what I was thinking. That last story should be expanded upon. The style is pretty much the same as DNA. The way the subject of a paragraph is slowly but surely moved to something completely and utterly off topic only to end up back on topic again is absolutely marvelous.
Sure I could have done that, but it's not really a plot hole as I explained either previously or afterwards (But the way my mind works it really doesn't matter which) that I couldn't run for ever you see. Do try and keep up dear chap. If I gave her back then the heat was of me. Luckily enough there was that other silly sod dithering around out there blowing smoke up his arse that stood in, very convincingly I must say, for yours truly. So there you go. No plot hole Per Say' but as I have mentioned this is compleltly written on the fly with no back edits so don't expect water into wine.
And as some of you have guessed I love that very familiar way that DA writes. Such a fertile imagination. The literary world miss's's's's him dearly. I do like Terry Pratchett as well, so long as I'm reading him and not listening to him. He really doesn't have a voice for radio. But yes I love that informal, comedic writing bent. It kinda suits my personality (as it should I guess).
-edit- Oh and by the way. all this is copywrited Circa . . about now. So no wogging and blatent plagerism. Thats my job.
Pluto no more..
(129 posts, started )
FGED GREDG RDFGDR GSFDG