Subject:    HAPPY BIRTHDAY BLACKHAWK! Adventures in Servoland,

CHAPTER 12; Blackhawk's Evidence
From: "Plain, Simple, Blackhawk." <> Newsgroups: Message-ID: <> ************************************************************************* BLACKHAWK'S ADVENTURES IN SERVOLAND Previous chapter: Who Stole the Peeps? CHAPTER XII Blackhawk's Evidence `Here!' cried Blackhawk, quite forgetting in the flurry of the moment how large he had grown in the last chapter, and he jumped up in such a hurry that he tipped over the jury-box with the edge of his pepperoni, upsetting all the trolls onto the heads of the crowd below, and there they lay sprawling about, reminding him very much of a right-wing partisan he had deliberately upset the week before. [Image] Giant Blackhawk upsets the jury (literally) \ E \; ||| ; | \ R \ - My ass will kill you! ||| ' | |\ "_|\| |/ ||| ' | ||\/(@ @) ' / Look at me, I'm Wavy G! ||| ' | |||\( \ ) /| / Don't Panic! ||| - _|_______|||__\0/___/_|______/______________\|/ ____ \|/ ||| He's got a ____ ____' o / o __ ## ____ ____ @~/ ,. \-@ ||| 'pepperoni,( __ ) ( __ ) (\_/_) (_ /') ( __ ) ( __ )/_( \__/ )_\ ||| RUN!| \ ( __ ) ( __ ) (|"| ) (_ \-\ ( __ ) ( __) \__U_/ unk ||| . \_| \( __ ) ( __ )()\o/ ()( _///\( __ ) (.' '. /\| ' | w c(..)o w (_| \\ \/ | \\\ | | | @ | *giggle* | \\' ____| \__(-)__/ _)______\__\____///_________'.__.'_/_______ , \\/____| |/\ ( _____ ____ \\\ _____ .' '. | \/ X--| |(_)___)|_ _| | _ \ / _ \ | @ | | |\ X--| |/| | | | |_) | / / \ \ '.__.' | | | \ X--\ || \ | | | __ / | | | | | | | | \ |\ X--\ m m | | | |\ \ | | | | | | | | \ | \ X--\ | (o( | | | | \ \ \ \_/ / | |____ | |_ BH \|__\ X--\ | ( "o / |_| |_| \_\ \_____/ |______| |____ \ \ | (~.)' \ \|__^^________________________________ <where are those _ o-o '._____.' /_ \ *peep* damn towers?!> _ _ _|_ (")\\ (')> / |\_________ / _ __(___)_ / _^_ 0 ( ) //_____ _0) -()()()()() Hjckrrh! / # \ '****' / / -------- ### # '******' /_/ (o( (''))_/ \_ **('')** _--_ ( "o / ^ / ** ^ ** ( "> / (~.)' 0 '*\ 0 *' /(>Z)>' ^^ ^^ `Oh, I beg your pardon!' he exclaimed in a false tone of great dismay, and began picking them up again as quickly as he could, for last week's Buffy episode kept running in his head, and he had a vague sort of idea that they must be collected at once and put back into the jury-box, or they would die when the sun rose. `This chapter cannot proceed,' said the Mage-Jaime in a very grave voice, `until all the Trolls are back in their proper places - all,' he repeated with great emphasis, looking hard at Blackhawk as he said it. Blackhawk looked at the "jury-box", and saw that, in his haste, he had put Antifrance in head downwards, and the poor little thing was waving his claws about in a melancholy way, being quite unable to move. He soon got him out again, and put him right; `not that it signifies much,' he said to himself; `I should think he would be quite as much use in this chapter one way up as the other. His ass is a war hero you know.' As soon as the jury had a little recovered from the shock of being upset, and their slates and pencils (except the one that pooped) had been found and handed back to them, they set to work very diligently to write out a history of the accident, all except Antifrance, who seemed too much busy reading "A Fire upon the Deep" (the Mock Cronan had loaned him a copy), to do anything but sit with its mouth open, occasionally gazing up Blackhawk's enormous pepperoni. `What do you know about this business?' the Mage-Jaime said to Blackhawk. `Everything,' said Blackhawk. `Everything or just everything in this story?' persisted the Mage-Jaime. `Just everything in this story,' said Blackhawk. `That's very impotent,' the Mage-Jaime said, turning to the jury. They were just beginning to write this down on their slates, when the Yellow Peep interrupted: `*peep* Omnipotent, your Majesty means, of course *peep*,' he said in a very respectful tone, but frowning and making faces at the Mage-Jaime as he spoke. Blackhawk suddenly realized, that the Mage-Jaime was closing the door to the Throne Room and taking off his pants. `Omnipotent, of course, I meant,' the Mage-Jaime hastily said, and went on to himself in an undertone, `impotent-- Omnipotent-- Omnipotent--impotent--' as if he were trying which word sounded best. Some of the jury wrote it down `impotent,' and some `Omnipotent.' Blackhawk could see this, as he was near enough to look over their slates (yet far enough to avoid the stench); `but it doesn't matter a bit, I yam what I yam' he thought to himself.' [Image] Mage-Jaime reflecting in court o o o | | | ( ( () )) ') ') ) | | | ( ( ' ) , ' )') | " | | ( 'I yam what I yam .)| | | (' . ' , ) ) _. ) | | | (.) ) ) ) () )' ) | | | | >=o-o | ___ _|_ | ( ) Man, that's potent! \~~\ __(___)_ | ) ( ,^, / ,^, \__\()()()()()| ( ) o \ / o | -------- | ) `impotent--Omnipotent-- ((() __ | __ | | ( / Omnipotent--impotent--AHHH!' -o ) .' '..' @'. | | ___ ____________(__ __________ ___ >=< | |@ || | Smells || + || | \~~\ * _|/\'.__.''.__.' GREAT! || O || THRONE | \~~\ ____// \\"\ >=< __ ##/ | || /|\ || ROOM | \//)____|| ||\/ |0 \~\ /') | 8== / \ || | ,)0) || ||____ | \_\/\\-/="=> || || | ___>=. /| |//)|\>=<(')_ '" ///\|| || .---------. || | \~~\/()||_|==>|_\__(___)______\\\__|_ || | WARNING | || | \_3/| // | | ___________ _____ || | !*!*!*! | ()|-) | / ==3> //)| | | __ || |BIOHAZARD| || | Smells | |___ ___| | | \ || '---------' || | like | | | | |__/ || || | Poopie!| | | | || || | | | | | |\ 8== || | | | | | | \ || || | | | | | | || || | | |___| |___| ___||_______________||__________| | || (_(_(_()_)_)_)_) || ||BH |_______________________________ At this moment the Mage-Jaime, who had been for some time busily reflecting in his stall, cackled out `Silence!' and read out from the graffiti on the wall, `Rule Forty-two. All persons high on Tofu must leave the court.' Everybody looked at Blackhawk. `I'm not high,' said Blackhawk. `You are,' said the Mage-Jaime. `Nearly two miles high,' added the Witch, admiring the size of his pepperoni. `Well, we shan't go there,' said Blackhawk: `besides, that's not a regular rule: you invented it just now.' `It's the oldest rule in this stall,' said the Mage-Jaime. `Then it ought to be Number One,' said Blackhawk. `You are Number Six!' exclaimed the freshly neutered Captain Hatter (returning from the chopping block). `I AM NOT A NUMBER, I AM A FREE SOCK-PUPPET!' yelled Wavy G. from the Jury box while marci knitted him a sweater. Blackhawk cracked a smile at this. `I guess Servoland wouldn't be the ginat coalescing swimming pool it is, without a shallow end,' he said. `We'll see about shallow endings when we reach the end of this chapter, won't we?' said Brother Arthur in his only cameo appearance. Blackhawk decided he was still sore about the "apostrophe" thing and chose to ignore him. The Mage-Jaime turned pale, and opened the stall hastily. `Consider your verdict,' he said to the jury, in a low, trembling voice. `*peep* There's more evidence to come yet, please your Majesty,' said the Yellow Peep, jumping up in a great hurry; `this plot device has just been delivered. *peep*' `What is it?' said the Witch, then added `and hurry the fuck up I'm busy.' `*peep* I haven't opened it yet,' said the Yellow Peep, `but it seems to be a script, written by The Prisoner to--to somebody *peep*.' `I'm not sure who cares about that old TV show anymore,' said the Mage-Jaime, `unless the story was written for nobody, which isn't un-mutual, you know.' `Who is it directed to?' said one of the jurymen. `It isn't very directed at all,' said the Yellow Peep; `in fact, there's nothing of substance written on the inside.' He flipped through Blackhawk's confiscated "Servoland" script as he spoke, and added `It isn't a story, after all: it's a set of verses.' `Are they in The Prisoner's cool typeface?' asked Captain Hatter? `A fixed bitch font?' asked Blackhawk, remembering something Heck had once told him. `*peep* No, they're not,' said the Yellow Peep, `and that's the most pedestrian thing about it *peep*.' (The jury all looked puzzled, but Blackhawk noted they'd looked that way since the trial had begun.) `He must have imitated somebody else's meme,' said the Mage-Jaime. (The jury all brightened up again.) `Please your Majesty,' said a Flonker on the jury, `I didn't write it, and they can't prove I did: there's no valid address in the headers.' `If you didn't post from a real address,' said the Mage-Jaime, `that only makes the matter worse. You must have meant some mischief, or else you'd have signed your name like an honest man.' There was a general clapping of hands at this: it was the first really clever thing the Mage-Jaime had said that day between bathroom breaks. `That proves his guilt, now fuck off I'm busy' said the Witch. `It proves nothing of the sort!' said Blackhawk. `Why, you don't even know what this story has been all about!' `That's because you're the only "sooper genius" here!' yelled Brother Arthur from the gallery. `Hoist em' on his own petard' yelled the Redneck with the Caterpillar(tm) `Then read it,' said the Mage-Jaime. The Yellow Peep put on his tin-foil hat. `*peep* Where shall I begin, please your Majesty? *peep*' he asked. `Begin at the beginning,' the Mage-Jaime said gravely, `and go on till you come to the end: then stop.' These were the verses the Yellow Peep read:-- `They told me you had been away, And mentioned me to them: You gave me a good character, Though I could not comprehend. I sent them word you had not gone (We know it to be true): If they should push the matter on, What becomes of me and you? I gave them one, Cronan gave them two, You gave us three or more; They all returned from us to you, (They were your meme before.) If I or Thee should chance to be Involved in this affair, Trust entropy to set us free, Don't you think that's fair? My notion was that it had been (Before you had this fit) An obstacle that came between The dolts, ourselves, and it. Don't let them know who you liked best, For this must ever be A secret, kept from all the rest, Between yourself and me.' `That's the most important peep of evidence we've heard yet,' said the Mage-Jaime, rubbing his freshly washed hands under the hot-air dryer; `so now let the jury--' `If any one of them can explain it,' said Blackhawk, (his ego had grown so large in the last few paragraphs that he wasn't a bit afraid of interrupting him,) `I'll give him 500 Quatloos. I don't believe there's a piffle of meaning in it.' The jury all wrote down on their slates, `He doesn't believe there's a piffle of meaning in it,' but none of them attempted to explain the script. `That's the most impotent peep of evidence we've EVAH heard,' said Captain Hatter doing a damn fine Groucho Marx impression. `If there's no meaning in it,' said the Mage-Jaime, `that saves a world of bandwidth, you know, as we needn't try to find any. And yet I don't know,' he went on, spreading out the verses on the toilet seat, and looking at them with one eye; `I seem to see some meaning in them, after all. "--Said I could not comprehend--" you can't comprehend, can you?' he added, turning to the Tropea of Peeps. The Tropea of Peeps shook his head sadly. `do i look like it?' he said. (Which he certainly did NOT, being made entirely of cardboard and marshmallow.) `All right, so far,' said the Mage-Jaime, and he went on muttering over the verses to himself: `"We know it to be true--" that's Servoland, of course-- "I gave them one, Cronan gave them two--" why, that must be what he did with the peeps, you know--' `But, it goes on "They all returned from him to you,"' said Blackhawk. `Why, there they are!' said the Mage-Jaime triumphantly, pointing to the peeps on the table. `Nothing can be clearer than that. Then again--"Before you had this fit--" you never had fits, my dear, I think?' he said to the Witch. `Never!' said the Witch furiously, throwing a SURLI Badge - with a particularly nasty giant spider on it - at Antifrance as she spoke. (The unfortunate little Antifrance had left off writing on his slate with one claw, as he found it made no mark; but he now hastily began again, using the black Spider blood, that was trickling down his antenna, as long as it lasted. The writing produced a black smoke that smelled of cloves.) `Then the words don't fit you,' said the Mage-Jaime, looking round the court with a smile. There was a dead silence. `It's a pun!' the Mage-Jaime added in an offended tone, and everybody laughed between coughing at the smoke from Antifrance's slate, `Let the jury consider their verdict,' the Mage-Jaime said, for about the twentieth time that day. The eyes of the trolls had become very red, Wavy G. passed out, Brother Tyler walked up and began taking deep breaths. `No, no!' said the Witch. `Big Fight Scene first--verdict afterwards.' `Stuff and nonsense!' said Blackhawk loudly. `The idea of having The Fight Scene first!' `Hold your tongue!' said the Witch, turning telepathic purple. `I won't!' said Blackhawk. `Off with his balls!' the Witch shouted at the top of her voice. Nobody moved. `Who cares for you?' said Blackhawk, (he had grown to his full size by this time.) `You're nothing but a case of peeps!' [Image] Big Fight Scene, Blackhawk gets Peeped. `Who cares for you? You're nothing but a case of peeps!' / |\________ / / //____ _0) / / / / / / ________ *peep*____ / /_/ \______/ /(")/| *peep* <Here 33`~~~~3 (///) /(")/P/ Achmed! ( (,)(,) '__' /(")/E/ Crash it > \ / / /(")/E/ *peep* *peep* here!> \ O / / / /__^/P/ _________ _ _____\___/____/ / \___\/ |_P_E_E_P_| -_-_ *peep* //----\(((/---- / *peep* *peep*________ _ _ | \ / \(/(')>___/ _________ |_P_E_E_P_| _-_- | \ \ /(__)| |_P_E_E_P_|-_- \ \_\/___2_| ____ *peep* *peep* \ |--3 *peep*/\(")\ _________ _ _ \_______|--3 \P\(")\ |_P_E_E_P_| _-_- *peep* | |o o | \E\(")\ *peep* |__|______| \E\(")\ *peep* *peep* /____(_)__\ \P\^__\ _________ _ _ /||| |\ \/___/ |_P_E_E_P_| _-_- . / ||| _ | \ *peep* \ ___ ___ *peep*/ \ /__||| | |__\ ____ \ \ (/\(")\ /\(")\) / \ ||| | | /\(")\ \*peep* \P\(")\\\P (")\\ \/ \ ||| | | \P\(")\ / \E\(")\_\E\(")\_/ /| ||| | | \E\(")\ \ \E\(")\ \E\(")\\ / | ||| | | \E\(")\ \ \\P\^__\)\P\^__\\ / | ||| | | \P\^__\ \ /\/___/)(\/___/)\ / | ||| | | \/___/ / Y-----------------Y | ||| | | *peep* \ \ / | __ __ __ __ __ | ' |||___|___| \Let's Roll!|| _\ _| _| _\/ _\| / |/\xx\;\xx\ \ || / _| _| /|_ || / \|\__\|\__\ ||_||__|__|_| \__/| / \__/ \__/ BH |__Just Born, Inc.|/ At this the whole case rose up into the air, and came flying down upon him: he gave a little scream, half of fright and half of anger, and tried to beat them off, and found himself lying in the moderated group, with his head in the lap of Captain Infinity, who was gently brushing away some dead JMS posts that had fluttered down from the threads upon his CRT. `Wake up, Blackhawk!' said Infinity; `Why, what a long sleep you've had!' `Oh, I've had such a curious dream!' said Blackhawk, and he told Infinity, as well as he could remember them, all these strange "Adventures" of his that you have just been reading about; and when he had finished, Infinity trolled him, and said, `It's just fucking Usenet, dear, certainly: but now run in to your tofu; it's getting late.' So Blackhawk logged out and ran off, thinking while he ran, as well he might, what a strange and wonderful dream it had been, and how glad he was to be with normal posters again. But Captain Infinity sat still - just as Blackhawk left him, leaning his head on his hand, watching the blinking cursor, and thinking of little Blackhawk and all his wonderful Adventures, what it would be like to be like him, what it would be like to pry his darling little head open with a crowbar and watch it ooze crimson, what it would be like to pry his own little head open with a crowbar and watch it ooze crimson, till he too began dreaming after a fashion, and this was Captain Infinity's dream:-- First, he dreamed of little Blackhawk himself, and once again the tiny hands were clasped upon his keyboard, and the bright eager eyes were looking up at Infinity's trolls -- he could hear the very tones of Blackhawk's voice, and see that queer little toss of his head to keep back the brim of his hat that would always get into his eyes -- and still as he listened, or seemed to listen, the whole place around him became alive with the strange creatures of little Blackhawk's dream. The long grass rustled at his feet as the Yellow Peep hurried by -- the frightening Mortismouse splashed his way through the neighboring IRC chat -- he could hear the rattle of the butter knives as Captain Hatter and his friends shared their never-ending troll -- as the March Jaime shared his never-ending poop, and the shrill voice of the Witch ordering off her unfortunate guests to castration -- once more the ferret-baby was squealing on the Wench's knee, while Tool CD's and Woody Woodpecker bowls crashed around it -- once more the bandwidth wasting Hole, the din of the Redneck's Caterpillar(TM), and the chokeing of the suppressed Teats, filled the air, mixed up with the distant sobs of the miserable Mock Cronan. So he sat on, with closed eyes, and half believed himself in Servoland, though he knew he had but to open them again, and all would change to dull reality--the Flonkers would be only pissing in the wind, and the political banter rippling to the waving of the reeds -- the rattling butter knives would change to gushing fanboys, and the Witch's shrill cries to the voice of the moderator--and the squeal of the baby, the sucking sound of the Hole, and all the other queer noises, would change (he knew) to the confused clamor of the busy Usenet -- while the crowing of the undeserving in the distance, would take the place of the Mock Cronan's heavy sobs. Lastly, he pictured to himself how this same little Blackhawk of his would, in the after-time, be himself a grown man; and how he would keep, through all his incontinent years, the simple and loving heart of his childhood: and how he would gather about his audience, and make their eyes bright and eager with many a strange tale, perhaps even with the dream of Servoland of long ago: and how he'd find a pleasure in all their simple sorrows, and find a sorrow in all their simple joys, remembering his own trolls, and the happy Usenet days. THE END *************************************************************************


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