Subject:    Re: Question: Vinegar Syndrome and 16mm/Super-8 films
From:       Captain Infinity
Newsgroups: alt.fan.tom-servo,alt.fan.ducks,alt.wanted.mars.women,
             alt.alt.life.the-universe.and-everything
Message-ID: <35d33114.15545192@news-f.std.com>


In article <35cd99a9.545549@news.buckeyenet.net>
Podkayne Fries wrote:

>-- 
>Regards, Podkayne Fries
>
>Death before ducks out of row.

The closest I can come to translating this .sig is as follows:


                        Death Goes Trolling
                                by
                         Captain Infinity

   One day when Death was just a little boy, his parents, Eternity and
Oblivion, bought him a rowboat.  It was an adorable little rowboat,
brightly painted and shiny, with just enough room for Death and one friend.

   Unfortunately, earlier that summer Death had taken all his little
friends Away, so he had to go out rowing on his own.  This made him a
little sad, but he knew that he needed the experience if he was to develop
his skills at the job, so he did not miss them too much.  Except for Cindy,
because Cindy was the only one who would hold his hand without shuddering.
He missed Cindy the most, but not too badly, because he had saved Cindy's
hand when he had taken the rest of her Away.  He kept it hidden in his sock
drawer, and he took it out nightly and brought it into his 3 AM milk baths
with him.

       Suddenly, one of Captain Infinity's alternate personalities,
      Scuzz Lorenzo, interrupted the story:  "Hey, moron!  You're 
      digressing to Heck and back!  Shut the fuck up with the 'Cindy's
      hand' crap, and get back to the point!"

   So, anyway, Death took his rowboat down to the Charles River in Boston,
where the water was a wonderful brown and where the empty shells of lots of
things that Death had previously taken Away still floated.  This was one of
his favorite places, coming in third under Chernobyl and New Jersey.

   As he floated gently down the Charles, being passed left and right by
boaters, kayakers, and the occasional sculler from one of the nearby
college's rowing teams, he found himself drifting towards a small group of
ducks bobbing gently on a wake and happily sunning themselves.

   "Hello, little ducks," said Death.

   "EEEEEEEK!" quacked the ducks, in terror.  "It's Death!  Fly awayyyyy!"

   "No, wait," said Casper the Friendly Ghost.  "I'm a *friendly* ghost."

       Scuzz Lorenzo grabbed Captain Infinity by his ears and shook
      his head, hard.  "Dammit!" he screamed, "There's no ghosts in
      this story!  Stop screwing around!  You're wasting everybody's
      time!"

   "No, wait," said Death.  "I'm not here to take you Away today.  I'm just
having a bit of a holiday.  Won't you join me?"

   The little ducks were a bit nervous, but they could see that Death did
not mean them any harm.  So they hopped into the rowboat with Little Death,
who looked a lot like Little Archie, with red hair and freckles on his
skull face, though this was hard to see because of the heavy black cloak.
Man, he must have been hot out there in that cloak.  Did I mention that it
was a hot, sunny day?  He must have been broiling.  Yeesh.  Oh, and by the
way, there were only three ducks, I should have told you that a little
while ago, too.  Maybe I should just back up and change a few things--

       JESUS H. CHRIST ON A CRUTCH AT CHRISTMAS, WILL YOU JUST 
      GET *ON* WITH IT ALREADY!!

   The three ducks looked up at the freckled skull of Little Death,
partially hidden by his thick black cloak, and said "Mr. Death, aren't you
hot in there?  It's an beautiful warm sunny day!"

   "No," chuckled Death, "I'm very comfortable, because, you see, all I am
under here is bones.  So even though it looks like a very suffocating
uniform, there is always a breeze through here."

   "That's very interesting," said the ducks.  "Tell us more about what
it's like to be Death."

   "Not right now, my little friends.  Right now we have reached the spot
where I want to do some fishing.  So now we have to be quiet or else we'll 
spook the fish.  Do you want to fish with me?"

   "SURE!" said the ducks.

   "SHHHHH! Be quiet, I said!" said Death, who, for all the
air-conditioning his bones provided him, seemed to be getting a little hot
under the collar.

   "Sorry," the ducks said meekly.

   "Very well," said Death.  "Will one of you please hand me my box of
worms?  They're very special worms; tapeworms."

   The ducks looked around.  "Where is the box of worms, Mr. Death?" they
asked.

   "Why, it's right over th--"

   And suddenly, Death and the three ducks noticed the fourth duck, who had
climbed aboard while I was talking about Death's heavy cloak, and who had
eaten all the tapeworms, and who now sat fat and lazy and happy in the back
of the rowboat by the cooler of beer and baggie full of mari--uh, the
lifejackets.

  Death got very upset that his day of fishing had been ruined, so he
grabbed one of the oars and took the fourth little duck Away by smashing it
to a feathered pulp on the deck of the boat.  The other ducks screamed and
fluttered away in mortal terror.

  Never so angry had been Death before.  "Ducks out of row!" he screamed,
his anger mangling the imperative.  His rage was so intense that it almost
overwhelmed the author, as he struggled to work Podkayne's bizarre .sig
into the story *somewhere*.  But now having done so, I plan to turn my
attention to the Topic header, and see if I can fit "vinegar" and "Super-8
films" into this story somewhere...

No, forget it, it's over.  Sign it and let them move on, you dipshit.
 --Scuzz Lorenzo


** 
Captain Infinity
 ...I need a new alternate personality, this one is too much of an asshole.


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