the Sereni-Tree clubhouse by thatweirdgirl

*Ratboy comes runing back down stairs.*

There you are RealMe, this is no time to rest! I'm geting up a posse, Cozin kidnapped MG, it was creepy, with a singing-telegram and everything! So, now we need a posse to................kidnap Mal! You in?

-Ratboy

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Thursday, February 10, 2005 1:17 PM

Quote:
Originally posted by Rat:
Ratboy need[s] a posse to................kidnap Mal! You in?

-Ratboy

For some odd reason, an old CSN lyric pops into my head. Fair number of us might be aged enough (or have heard much elder silblings' vinyl renditions of) to recall:

"Find the cost of kidnapping
Buried in the ground.
Mother Earth will swallow you
Lay your body down."

***
Is it just me, or is the Treehouse plummeting to its doom?

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Thursday, February 10, 2005 1:50 PM

THATWEIRDGIRL

Quote:
Originally posted by SimonWho:
I guess Scotty was wrong, you can change the laws of physics.

...star trekkin across the universe, boldly going forward 'cause we can't find reverse.
I always knew it was possible.

Simon, that's okay. I didn't think you'd be able to sneak in the matrix crystal. I'm impressed they knew what it was. I'm gonna go hide befor this kidnapping thing gets out of hand.

Know what I had to eat last night? Good stuff! Yummy creamy potato soup, yummy soda bread with yummy real butter by the spoonful, side of chips appropriately covered in salt and vinegar--cause I was still hungry-- and a couple of pints. Yummy.

Crap, I forgot to give up or take on something for Lent. Any suggestions?

*twg/tippy quietly crawls upstairs to sleep in Grey's lawnchair*

www.thatweirdgirl.com

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Thursday, February 10, 2005 2:55 PM

SIMONWHO

Ah, Star Trekkin'. Great song, got to number one here. As did Doctorin' the TARDIS. We have such ecclectic taste here in the UK.

Right, I think we've all been overindulging a bit too much. It's time for some healthy living, some exercise. I can offer any competitors a game of Tennis, Table Tennis or Fencing. Meet me up in the clubhouse's sports room if you fancy a challenge.

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Thursday, February 10, 2005 4:53 PM

Quote:
Originally posted by Rat:
*Ratboy comes runing back down stairs.*

There you are RealMe, this is no time to rest! I'm geting up a posse, Cozin kidnapped MG, it was creepy, with a singing-telegram and everything! So, now we need a posse to................kidnap Mal! You in?

-Ratboy

* From the place where he had slid to the floor in exhaustion, The Real Me looks up at Rat. *

Huh? What?

Kidnap…

Mal?

* The Real Me blinks. *

Kidnap Mal-licious?! What, are you mad? Didn’t you learn your lesson in your “Intervention for Mal-licious” thread where you almost brought Mal-Mageddon down upon us all? No, I will not be party to abducting Mal-licious!

* The Real Me pauses, then continues more reasonably:*

But if you MUST attempt to kidnap Mal-licious, make her think that it was all her idea. You might want to practice on one of the brides, first. I suggest that you avoid the one with the katana. Try Bride5 or Bride7.

* The Real Me reaches out in an attempt to open a dimensional portal. Despite expending great effort, he cannot open one more than a hand-span in diameter. *

And this whole thing about you enabling real physics… What were you THINKING? The physics of our butterfly thrusters is WELL beyond what can be accomplished with plain, boring reality. Why, we could have fallen to our DOOM! Moreover, I don’t know how long it will take our absurd level of physics to regenerate, or even if it CAN completely recover! How are we going to get ice cream, for goodness sake?

* The Real Me gets to his feet. He makes a quick sign that says, “Do not press! This means YOU Rat!” and displays this near the big red button. Then he slams shut the switchbox. *

But you say that Cozen has kidnapped MontanaGirl? This is serious. We haven’t had a kidnapping since… Well, since just after the Three Switches War, when somebody took PsychicRiver away. Say, come to think of it, PsychicRiver has been missing for a good long time, now. I wonder if he has been kidnapped, too?

* The Real Me considers his current resources. *

Hmmmmm… The butterfly thrusters are using about all the unreality that we can muster just to keep us airborne. As a result, my dimensional portals don’t seem to be working, the Ebo Golem is still a statue, the black ribbon attire is just a bunch of strips of black cloth…

Furthermore, my high-tech squirt gun melted during Mai-Quest, Sparky is still a pile of junk, the orbital weather-control lasers were never quite brought online, the chocolate-river-digging machine just isn’t that useful right now...

* The Real Me snaps his fingers. *

There are still the perimeter defense lasers that I once installed to keep Zoid away from Mal-licious. They ought to still be working. I could re-program them to target that pesky Russian friend of Cozen’s, the next time he noses around here.

Also, the Grey Jedi left an operational trebuchet on the roof and more Spam than is reasonable in our cargo hold.

* The Real Me smiles. *

Otherwise, I’ll have to improvise!

The Real Me

(The Real Me cannot currently receive messages from this site; he is not ignoring you. But he CAN receive e-mail at realme@pcibroadband.net.)

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Thursday, February 10, 2005 5:13 PM

Quote:
Originally posted by TheRealMe:
I will not be party to abducting Mal-licious!

Well fine then, I geuss we should just rescue MG!

*Ratboy ponders for a moment*

Say, is that Spam in or out of the can?

-Ratboy

(hint,hint) new thread (hint)

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Thursday, February 10, 2005 5:14 PM

Ah, there she is! Quite the beauty, too!

* The Real Me stands on the roof of the Sereni-TREE, admiring the trebuchet once belonging to The Grey Jedi. He moves closer, then reaches out to tug on one of the ropes so as to test its strength… *

* And the trebuchet completely falls apart! The Real Me is stunned at first, then smacks himself on the forehead. *

Dammit! I forgot that The Grey Jedi constructed this device out of random bits of junk using his MacGuyver-like superpower. Of COURSE it could not hold together in this field of heightened reality.

NOW what am I going to do? That just leaves me with SPAM.

* Startled, The Real Me only then notices That Weird Girl sitting nearby in The Grey Jedi’s lawn chair. *

ThatWeirdGirl, hello! I hope things are going well for you. Sadly, Cozen has kidnapped MontanaGirl, and all our superpowers are drained. We must rescue her! Do you have any ideas?

The Real Me

(The Real Me cannot currently receive messages from this site; he is not ignoring you. But he CAN receive e-mail at realme@pcibroadband.net.)

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Thursday, February 10, 2005 5:18 PM

* Startled by the nearly simultaneous post, The Real Me looks around on the roof to see if Rat followed him up there. To Rat if he is there: *

I don't know. Does Spam come in any other form than canned?

The Real Me

(The Real Me cannot currently receive messages from this site; he is not ignoring you. But he CAN receive e-mail at realme@pcibroadband.net.)

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Thursday, February 10, 2005 5:23 PM

Hi RealMe, yep i'm up here!

-Ratboy

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Thursday, February 10, 2005 5:53 PM

*Ratboy look on, surveying the rubble*

Well, I can fix it, but it would be easier to build a new pneumatic lancher, whats the payload? Spam?

-Ratboy

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Thursday, February 10, 2005 6:26 PM

Quote:
Originally posted by TheRealMe:
Sadly, Cozen has kidnapped MontanaGirl, and all our superpowers are drained. We must rescue her! Do you have any ideas?

The Real Me

Um, ahem! We, ah, y'know, might not be quite so "unhappy", eh?

***
Things are going well....

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Thursday, February 10, 2005 7:24 PM

Quote:
Originally posted by Rat:
*Ratboy look on, surveying the rubble*

Well, I can fix it, but it would be easier to build a new pneumatic lancher, whats the payload? Spam?

-Ratboy

* The Real Me nods, smiling. *

Yes, Spam launched at extreme velocities can make a formidable weapon! Perhaps we should retire to my workshop...

* The Real Me pauses in thought. *

Except that my workshop is now co-located with someone else's bedroom, since the extra-dimensional folding unravelled. I wonder whose?

The Real Me

(The Real Me cannot currently receive messages from this site; he is not ignoring you. But he CAN receive e-mail at realme@pcibroadband.net.)

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Thursday, February 10, 2005 8:34 PM

Quote:
Originally posted by cozen:
Um, ahem! We, ah, y'know, might not be quite so "unhappy", eh?

***
Things are going well....

What he said.

Oh and cozen, I think I'll have nachos and Pepsi next. You're so kind.

Packer fans welcome.
All others tolerated.

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Thursday, February 10, 2005 8:44 PM

"Huh. I wonder what this latest sequence of events means for Mai’s new dress?"

YIKEEEEEESSSSSSSS!!!!!!!! Naked and not so articulate.....
*Mai screams and dives underneath the couch for cover*

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Thursday, February 10, 2005 10:07 PM

Quote:
Originally posted by montanagirl:
What he said.
Oh and cozen, I think I'll have nachos and Pepsi next. You're so kind.

eek! He's brain-washing her! RealMe grab as much Spam as you can carry!

We have to save her!!!

-Ratboy

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Friday, February 11, 2005 4:43 AM

* Face set in stone, The Real Me nods. *

Yes, Rat, this is much worse than I thought. We must rescue MontanaGirl. We cannot let her face this peril. It's too perilous!

Here!

* With some effort, The Real Me lifts up a hatch. *

This leads down to the cago bay, where The Grey Jedi left behind some 40 metric tons of Spam. Then we can sneak off to my workshop, negotiate with whoever's bedroom that happens to be now, and create some device capable of launching it.

We should also bring Mai something to wear.

The Real Me

(The Real Me cannot currently receive messages from this site; he is not ignoring you. But he CAN receive e-mail at realme@pcibroadband.net.)

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Friday, February 11, 2005 4:56 AM

Oh, what I wouldn't give for a holocaust cloak!

-Ratboy

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Friday, February 11, 2005 5:12 AM

* After having collected as much Spam from the cargo bay as the pair could carry, The Real Me and Rat head for the last remaining wing of the Sereni-TREE. The Real Me keys in his pass code to his room, and the door opens. They go in, and the door closes behind them. The Real Me drops the Spam he is carrying, and looks around. *

I was afraid of this. Look, here is my set of bookcases, but that is clearly someone else's bed. When the dimensional folding collapsed and the rooms re-entered normal space, they became the same room that they always were. Understand?

Anyway, we should be careful that we don't alarm the current resident.

Hello!

Hello!

* Getting no answer, The Real Me points. *

My workshop is that way. Let's go.

* As he passes a coat rack, The Real Me pulls some dark garment from it. *

Here, Rat. It so happens that I DO have a holocaust cloak.

Oh, should I call you "Rat" or "Ratboy"?

The Real Me

(The Real Me cannot currently receive messages from this site; he is not ignoring you. But he CAN receive e-mail at realme@pcibroadband.net.)

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Friday, February 11, 2005 8:01 AM

Quote:
Originally posted by TheRealMe:
It so happens that I DO have a holocaust cloak.

*Rat or Ratboy, takes the holocaust cloak and puts it on.*

Pretty cuning, don't ya think!

Now, if only we had a wheelbarrow, that would be something.

Quote:
Oh, should I call you "Rat" or "Ratboy"?

Like it going to matter!

-Ratboy

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Friday, February 11, 2005 4:07 PM

EBONEZER

*Ebo wanders in from one of the outter wings.*

Wow. The outer wings are a mess. There are all these twists and cul-de-sacs. I got sort of, well, lost.

Whats happening?

Oh wow. Mai has no clothes. I leave for two seconds (*ahem* days *cough*) and people start getting nekkid. Sheesh, i miss all the fun stuff...

Did I hear someone say kidnap?

-----------------------------------

Four out of five gynecologists recommend calling Ebo a girl.

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Friday, February 11, 2005 8:21 PM

Um guys, hello? I'm still under the sofa. Can I give me little help here? ANYONE?

* Reaches one hand out and feels around for afghan from the back of the sofa and wraps around herself and crawls out.*

Oh that's much better, it was getting a little chilly under there. Ok now on to my room to find some real clothes. Lesson learned: never ever wear a dress (or any other article of clothing made from butterfly thruster thingies)no matter how pretty it maybe.

Oh by the way TRM, there's a pile of use-to-be-a-slinky-dress butterflies on the sofa cushion. Dont' know what good they will do you now, but thought you might like them back all the same.

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Friday, February 11, 2005 8:24 PM

* The Real Me stacks a tenth can of Spam into the magazine over the intake slot of the device. He pulls back a lever, there is a ratcheting sound, and the stack of cans drops by one. *

Moment of truth, Rat.

* The Real Me aims from the hip against the newly inscribed target upon the far wall. He braces himself and pulls the trigger. There is a high-pitched whining sound, a clunk, and suddenly a blob of an unidentified meat-like substance is spattered against the target, to slowly slide down to the floor amid its own juices. A spent, peeled-open can is expelled from the device’s ejection port to clatter on the floor. The stack of cans over the intake slot drops by one more. *

Well, Rat! I think that the “Spam-gun Mark 1.0” is ready for action! That pneumatic launching mechanism of yours was a good idea! Here, you can take this one. I’ll use the prototype.

* As Rat straps the device on, The Real Me puts on his own holocaust cloak and a Jayne-like hat with goggles which he carefully adjusts. The Real Me picks up the “Spam-gun Mark 0.6” and tests its weight. He packs as many cans of Spam as possible into its magazine, then puts a few in his cloak’s pockets. *

Remember, Rat, we only have about thirty rounds apiece. Use short, controlled bursts to conserve ammunition. Don’t go to full auto unless absolutely necessary. And if we are pushed back, retreat toward the additional ammo in the cargo bay.

Now, the pool table and the cushions will provide Cozen with a lot of cover. We have to get through THAT, then tag Cozen without hurting MontanaGirl. As we charge forward, we should spread out so as to catch him in cross-fire.

Okay, ready?

* The Real Me takes a deep breath. *

Let’s DO this!

The Real Me

(The Real Me cannot currently receive messages from this site; he is not ignoring you. But he CAN receive e-mail at realme@pcibroadband.net.)

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Friday, February 11, 2005 8:43 PM

*montanagirl sits relaxedly in the massaging chair, langorously sipping Pepsi, listening to the "Return of the King" soundtrack as cozen massages her feet and calves. A faint sound of an unidentifiable meat substance splattering against a wall penetrates her reverie.*

Did I just hear Spam hitting the wall? No. No one would be crazy enough to build a Spam gun. Would they?

Packer fans welcome.
All others tolerated.

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Saturday, February 12, 2005 12:50 AM

"The outer wings are a mess. There are all these twists and cul-de-sacs. I got sort of, well, lost."

Well, you're not the only Ebo. Apparently I will just have to hang out wearing this lovely afghan 'till someone can point me in the direction of my room. It seems to have disappeard altogether.

We could have played a nice, relaxing game of pool while we waited. Sadly, it appears that the entire thing is dripping in spam. Oh well. Now what?

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Saturday, February 12, 2005 1:16 AM

SIMONWHO

Hmm. Cozen, I don't think you're doing the kidnapping quite right. That or it is one of those romantic kidnappings for Valentine's Day that you hear about.

Any other helpless females looking to be kidnapped? I have a twirly moustache to look like a rakish villain if that'll persuade you.

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Saturday, February 12, 2005 1:41 AM

"Any other helpless females looking to be kidnapped? I have a twirly moustache to look like a rakish villain if that'll persuade you"

If it's a kidnapping like MG's been kidnapped PICK ME, PICK ME!!!! (I mean, uh oh no that would be terrible to be kidnapped a down right shame, umm yeah ). Although, I'm not sure that its really a kidnapping when the girl volunteers, still it could work.

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Saturday, February 12, 2005 5:58 AM

* Mindful of the rapidly-approaching Valentine's Day, The Real Me makes some quick adjustments to the Spam-guns so that they spit out heart-shaped lumps of Spam. *

Uh, Rat, are you ready? Any last minute additions to the assault plan?

The Real Me

(The Real Me cannot currently receive messages from this site; he is not ignoring you. But he CAN receive e-mail at realme@pcibroadband.net.)

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Saturday, February 12, 2005 6:21 AM

Just that we go in, in a blaze of glory!

-Ratboy

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Saturday, February 12, 2005 9:10 AM

THATWEIRDGIRL

*twg/tippy tries to ignore TRM and Rat talking on the roof. But gives up when they destroy Grey's beautiful trebuchet. She leaves the lawn chair behind and heads down to stop the SPAM madness*

STOP!!!!!

What are you doing with the SPAM? You don't sling SPAM. SPAM is not a weapon. *holding up two fingers she continues to rant* It is one of two things: food or art. If you want some sort of SPAM weapon, I can carve it into the appropriate form. I just happen to be a champion SPAM carver.

*twg/tippy realizes she let slip one of her secret powers*

Well, now that you know, what would you like? Some of my favorite creations have been the giant bumble bee, the tunnel of love, and the superman. But I can make anything. I'll need an assistant. Any volunteers? You can eat the scraps...

www.thatweirdgirl.com

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Saturday, February 12, 2005 12:27 PM

*splat*

Excusé moi, mon cherie MG, I must needs momentarily interupt this manicure, if you will, so I may attend to the minor spammy disruption.

I shall create the Serenity People Admire Montanagirl defense system from materials at hand (mostly cushions, remnants of spare EboGolem parts, shards of bashed up pool cues... and SPAM(?)).

*does so*

I shall empower it with the unassailable virtue of NASCAR Romantick Empowerment, the Essence of Brett Favre True Grit, and add to it a dollop of Ebo Innocence Of Youth (providing I can borrow a little of that stuff).

Oh, thanx, Ebo.

If twg/tippy would be so kind as to fashion a SPAM tunnel o' luv to connect the kidnappers' 'neath the pool table massage den, then I might, ever so humbly and with the utmost respect and admiration for her art, might be so bold as to have said tunnel programmed to transform all those who enter into Naive Romatick Fooles?

*splat splat*

***
SPAM splats my world, keep me safe from my hunger and lack of icecream.

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Saturday, February 12, 2005 7:32 PM

Quote:
Originally posted by SimonWho:
Hmm. Cozen, I don't think you're doing the kidnapping quite right.

Shhhh, don't tell him that! This unorthodox kidnapping is working out quite well for me. I'd hate to ruin it, or hurt cozen's feelings by implying that he did something wrong.

Packer fans welcome.
All others tolerated.

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Sunday, February 13, 2005 6:26 PM

Quote:
Originally posted by montanagirl:
something wrong.

Packer fans welcome.
All others tolerated.

*pauses in midst of administering to 5th chakra of shiatsu massage*

Y'know, M., this whole Spanish bit's got me kinda stumped. I mean, after a couple trips to
Costa Rica, and a disasterous visit to Peru (where I was arrested for no particular reason only to find after a 6 km. walk back to our rental car that said auto had been stripped of its wheels and all luggage contained within), all I've managed to retain is "Donde esta (nearest volcano, eatery, beach)", and "la cuenta, pour favor".

Now, Hungarian, that I can do.

Or French wine. Poilly Fuisse, mademoiselle?

***
My hovercraft is full of eels.

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Sunday, February 13, 2005 8:18 PM

Don't worry about that silly bit of "Spanish" dear, it didn't concern you at all. You're doing fine.

Quote:
Originally posted by cozen:
My hovercraft is full of eels.

"Bouncy, bouncy!" (I couldn't help myself. Python quotes/references get me every time!)

Packer fans welcome.
All others tolerated.

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Monday, February 14, 2005 12:12 AM

* With purpose in their steps, The Real Me and Rat walk down the corridor side by side, covered in their billowy black holocaust cloaks and carrying their spam-slinger guns. On the way to the common room, they run into Mai, still trying to cover herself with the blanket from the couch. *

Mai! It seems that the butterfly dress came apart. I’m so very sorry. I assure you that this was not my intention. Here!

* The Real Me wraps a spare holocaust cloak around her. *

Looking for your room? I’m not entirely certain what happened to it. When my higher dimensional folding unraveled, I’m afraid that your room merged with someone else’s. I’ll try to set things right when this is all over.

* The pair leave Mai and continue marching down the corridor. Next, they encounter ThatWeirdGirl. *

Quote:
ThatWeirdGirl wrote:
STOP!!!!!

What are you doing with the SPAM? You don't sling SPAM. SPAM is not a weapon. *holding up two fingers she continues to rant* It is one of two things: food or art. If you want some sort of SPAM weapon, I can carve it into the appropriate form. I just happen to be a champion SPAM carver.

*twg/tippy realizes she let slip one of her secret powers*

Well, now that you know, what would you like? Some of my favorite creations have been the giant bumble bee, the tunnel of love, and the superman. But I can make anything. I'll need an assistant. Any volunteers? You can eat the scraps...

First of all, I’m sorry about The Grey Jedi’s trebuchet. I didn’t realize that it would fall apart like that when I touched it.

Second, about the Spam…

* The Real Me pauses to consider his words, not wishing to reveal that he has never believed Spam to be food. *

ThatWeirdGirl… Tippy… We must do this thing. Cozen has kidnapped one of us and has appropriated the Captain’s quarters for his own. That is tantamount to mutiny, and we can’t just sit by and watch. With reality so strong in the Sereni-TREE, we need any weapon that we can get. Spam will be that weapon. I’m sorry.

* The Real Me and Rat continue past ThatWeirdGirl. But then The Real Me pauses and turns back. *

Tippy, when this is over, I shall be honored if you would consent to teach me the fine art of Spam-carving.

* The pair continue their march. They fling open the door to the common room and see the fortifications that Cozen has built up around the pool table. *

Quote:
Cozen wrote:
I shall create the Serenity People Admire Montanagirl defense system from materials at hand (mostly cushions, remnants of spare EboGolem parts, shards of bashed up pool cues... and SPAM(?)).

*does so*

I shall empower it with the unassailable virtue of NASCAR Romantick Empowerment, the Essence of Brett Favre True Grit, and add to it a dollop of Ebo Innocence Of Youth (providing I can borrow a little of that stuff).

Ha! It seems that Cozen is attempting to reinforce his defenses by bespelling them! With our current high level of reality in the Sereni-TREE, that will simply not work.

Cozen! Surrender!

* When he gets no response, The Real Me levels his Spam-slinger and starts firing. *

The Real Me

(The Real Me cannot currently receive messages from this site; he is not ignoring you. But he CAN receive e-mail at realme@pcibroadband.net.)

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Monday, February 14, 2005 12:14 AM

* The Battle for the Pool Table continues for most of that evening. Initially, The Real Me and Rat separate, keeping to the cover of couches and broken video game consoles while all the time edging forward toward their goal. They both keep up a respectable volume of fire, attempting to catch Cozen in the crossfire of their Spam-slinging guns. Heart-shaped lumps of Spam fly everywhere. *

* But Cozen is clever, and well prepared in his fortified position. He responds by flinging insults at the pair, along with various dessert concoctions and some of their own Spam. The Real Me finally realizes that he and Rat can’t win this way. Some bold move is necessary. With dismay, The Real Me also realizes that his magazine is empty. Spent cans of Spam lay all about him. Rat can’t have much left, either. *

Rat! Cover me!

* Rat leaps up from behind the bar and lets his Spam-slinger rock on full auto, sending a veritable hail of meat-like lumps toward Cozen. Cozen ducks. The Real Me jumps over the couch and runs toward the pool table, his right hand fishing in his holocaust cloak for one of his last remaining cans of Spam. Meanwhile, Rat's Spam-slinger expends all of its ammunition and falls silent. Rat drops back behind the bar. *

* As The Real Me nears his objective, Cozen pulls some lever and a covering falls, completely encasing the area under the pool table within a sturdy wall. The Real Me slaps another can of Spam into his Spam-slinger, pulls back the lever to load it, then jabs the weapon up against the defensive wall, and concentrates. A bright point of light appears at the muzzle of the Spam-slinger, and that point expands to form a small hole in reality. The Real Me jams the barrel of the weapon into the void and pulls the trigger. *

SPLAT!

* An empty can is expelled out of the device's ejection port. *

Cozen groans.

* The Real Me breaks his way into the fortification under the pool table, bypasses the dazed Spam-covered Cozen, and makes his way to MontanaGirl, who is still secured in the Recliner of Enjoyable Torture. He pulls out a pocketknife and cuts through the satin restraints. The Real Me lifts MontanaGirl out of the recliner and takes her out into the common room. He sets her feet down on the floor, and supports her when she almost slips on an errant blob of Spam. *

MontanaGirl! You are rescued! No need to thank us. Not at all. Just doing our duty.

* The Real Me reaches into his holocaust cloak, pulls out a card, and hands it to her. *

Oh, and Happy Valentine’s Day!

* The Real Me glances back under the pool table. *

Say, was that really some Death By Chocolate cake?

The Real Me

(The Real Me cannot currently receive messages from this site; he is not ignoring you. But he CAN receive e-mail at realme@pcibroadband.net.)

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Monday, February 14, 2005 12:48 AM