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Chapter 7

     The Story The Authors
The still slightly empty and flaccid jaw flopped open and the pie went in. Bozoti and all stood still and silently for brief and bottomless second. Nothing happened. The collective sigh of relief crept on kitten feet to the edges of their lips and dangled from them. It began a slow and cautious descent. Then Vashondra went "Ulp!" The vibrations started at the tip of her toes and worked themselves up from there in geometric proportions until the entire reanimated form quavered and flopped around like the stricken android in "Blade Runner". From deep within the body anguished squeals of "Skiiiipppeeeerr!" rose and split the air. Lanark
Piercing the quiet, all turned and watched the episodic rendering with horror. corgi
To their suprise they saw a huge monkey and it was evident that it needed to be spanked! rich
"That's correct", replied the zoologist. Noone would touch the diseased chimp after hearing that the last person that touched the monkey swelled up like a balloon and turned a puke green color and had boil like lumps all over their body; aside from that; they don't die!. This isn't some that was on anyones wish list. A rather tall and amazing thin man pondered,"Why don't they shoot the stupid thing?"All of a sudden all onlookers of the huge, diseased farment are startled by a loud,"BANG".The monkey exploded releasing the disease on the crowd.There was yelling and screeming.Now clearly an epidemic the president was called and enformed about the occurance. "Monica would you get off me i gotta get the phone! Zeus
And, back to reality... Vashondra had become enraged, as the MaddyMoodyMaddyMoody reminded her that her monthly visitor had come upon her. "Gilligan, SHUT UP!!" she cried in anger. "The Skip hear you no more." The Bozoti Chieftain, Chief High Mucky-Muck, was aghast that Vash did not seem to be otherwise affected by the pie. "That was my best Lemon Merengue! Holy baked Alaska, lil' buddy -- she should be a stiffy by now!" Dastardly Dan was noticing at this time that Injun Joe was looking mighty strange. "Hello Joe, what do ya know?" he asked. "I just got back from a Bozoti pie show...Yeah!" Joe replied. "Oh, and did you notice that Vash has a stiffy?" Happy Boy (and Cuddles, too)
"No she should be a stiffy." Dan corrected. "No, look!" Injun Joe insisted. "She has a stiffy!" And by God, he was right. Vashondra du Lunchenette had a bonafide stiffy! But their attention was diverted by the flashing of massive green and yellow lights and stange electronic music. They all rushed to the kitchen window to search for the source of the musical light show. They didn't have to search very long for out on the lawn a Ufo was making it's landing. They were all surprised to see that the Ufo was a flying saucer, much like the flying saucers they'd seen in all those 1950's B-movies about martians. Bitzy in particular believed that extra-terrestrial beings would show up in much flashier vehicles. They all watched intently as a door opened on the underside of the saucer and a tall slender figure shuffled down the gangplank. It looked both ways and then in a booming voice it said "I AM NEENOR!" The windows rattled and everyone could feel the vibration in their chests. "I AM NEENOR!" it said again. cuddles
"For fuck's sake, we can hear you already, Neenor!" bellowed Voshondra before heaving a monumental sigh. Yes, her monthly visitor had arrived again and his name was Neenor. It was such a drag. Just the thought of it was already beginning to deflate the pronounced pup tent in the front of her pantsuit. Sure, the first few times had been fun. With a whizz and bang and laser light show to put Styx to shame, Neenor had slid down from the heavens to whisk her off for intergalactic joyrides at light speeds and dined her on rare and unknown delicacies from around the unknown regions of the universe. He would wine and dine her and dazzle her eyes with sights never before witnessed by a human. He would treat her to lavish entertainments on distant stars and destroy entire planets and pull his "I Am The God-Head" stunt on primitive backwater tribes for her amusement. But in the end, no matter what wonder of the known reality he could show her it came down to two problems. The first was Neenor's rather insistent prodding of her for sex, which she of course didn't object to on any moral basis. It was just that the reproductive organs of his species involved a few more barbed wriggly things than she normally felt comfortable with and second and infinitely more importantly, Neenor was a titantic bore. And no matter how directly or defiantly told him to piss off and leave her alone inevitably a month later he would be back rattling the windows and boring her to tears, and begging for a chance to get into her pants. The Gilligan side of her brain just wondered if there would be lunch involved. Lanark
For his part, Neenor didn't understand what the problem was. His own planet of origin, Woydrapekk, boasted a fauna divided into 5 distinct sexes, each a unique cog in the machine of birth and death, as opposed to the extremely limited sexual dualism of this miserable little planet -- why, neither the 'men' nor the 'women' of earth possessed a terrestrial equivalent of the Woydrapekkian chatmatrat or "hole of moist woe," the orifice which the First Gods of his planet had made to fit accommodate perfectly the insertion and pleasure of his own tendrilled y'akwakjhak or "singing club-foot." Philip
As it was, his poor, wrinkled y'akwakjhak had been forced to endure 14 days and nights of warp-speed travel without release. The twelve nutlike glands at its base were painfully swollen with desire and their pores squeezed out slow, single tears of a thick, milky fluid; from these sorry loci rose the barely-functioning mucus membrane or uöginvacz, now dried and chapped and shrivelled in on itself like a sad vindram orphaned by its wojpab; above that the three heads of Neenor's poor appendage hung as if dead, their formerly razor-sharp beaks dulled split and cracked with the dry air of hyperspace travel, their only sign of life being now and again a tentacle's feeble snapping-up of one of the juicy fat crickets which seemed to proliferate in the vicinity of the engine room, despite the unsleeping vigilance of the ship's cat, Ignavia. Philip Welsh
And the sad thing was, Vashondra wouldn't even try to comprehend how spending half of each month crossing the uncaring depths of hyperspace to see her (well, to smuggle uncut Andromedan narcotics to the cheese-mines of the Dalrinjjian moons, too, but...) only added deeper, more intricate complications to Neenor's already overwhelming nautiloid sexual needs. She just crossed her arms and sulked. "Lister, buster, I don't care what you brought me from the twinkling whatever-you-want-to-call-it orbiting Fomalhaut, if you think I'm putting that thing" -- and here she gave a shudder which he found most unsympathetic; were all earth women so devoid of feelings? -- "in my mouth for one instant..." Philip
But in the end it could not be said of Neenor that he was not foremost of all an optimist. With his still very lucrative smuggling business completed he would always return to the dismal little planet to make one last stab at it. Besides, it rather hurt his pride. He was considered to be something of a casanova by all who knew him or of him in all sixteen corners of the charted universe. He had never been one to lack for want of sexual company. He had even managed to score on Xhrtani 5 in the Zintalicod Colonies a half a dozen times and on that place non-governmentally approved non-procreational recreational sexual activity was punishable by an instant marriage after which the unlucky bride and groom were ritually eaten alive by the bride's disgraced parents. In fact, of all the places he had ever been to out of all the uncharted backwaters of the universe this was the only place he had not gotten to so much as first base on. He had a reputation to uphold. So with a heavy heart and an extra three pounds of Tilklaka fluid weighing heavily on his sexual organs he trudged down the ramp to find Vashondra. Lanark
"My angel," she squealed as she caught site of the well-oiled casters he used in place of feet. "Flown all the way down from Heaven to see l'il old me!"

"Have you missed me, my luscious squo-shlx-nrgl of gronchee-eps-ka?" intoned Neenor, barely able to control the swollen tremblings in his exposed voojh-num.

"Whadja bring me from the stars, Daddy?" she purred, inclining leftwards into the shadow of the saucer so he wouldn't notice the blood-speckled nuggets of Gilligan's brain running out of her nose.

"For starters," he replied, "a wif'm -- er, a hanky, oh dr'phzmx of that-which-in-my-alien-physiology-takes-the-place-of-a-heart..."

"Oh My!" purred Vashondra,"You just simply shouldn't have!" as she quickly grabbed the proffered piece of cloth and promptly blew a marble size chunk of Gilligan's medula oglangata into it. Neenor feigned a slight cough to hide his disgust. "It's...ahem...woven by specially by the Slanz Bees of Triiguli from the spinal chords of fifteen million Skronos Worms." "Really! Well imagine THAT!" said Vash as she dug deeper into her left nostril for a particularly tenacious clump of frontal lobe. "Yes, imagine that." replied Neenor. He was beginning to wonder if all this had really been worth the trip. But the dull and steady ache of his y'akwakyjhak spurred him on. " you busy right now?" "Well, I've got company, if that's what you mean, and the house is just a wreck. I'd invite you in but, well the company's a tad skittish and I'd hate to upset them." From where he stood Neenor could see numerous bloodshot eyes peering nervously from between the kitchen blinds. He wasn't about to give up now. Any spzzxynk in a time of need would serve him now. Perhaps one of them might do. "They just haven't met me" he pronounced as he started towards the house. "But, My little love muffin..." began Vashondra. But it was too late, Neenor was already half way to the house his multi-tendrilled skizzbult already swelling with hope and unfufilled need. Lanark
Vashondra started to follow Neenor into the house but then thought better of it, she didn't really want to see what was about to happen. And anyway, she'd seen it before and it still gave her nightmares. She ran around to the back of the house to rescue Bitzy but Bitzy was already running out the back door. Together, they ran back to the front of the house in time to see the Bozoti Chieftain thrown out of the kitchen window and land on the lawn with a loud thud. He was covered in a sticky white slime and the two women could not determine if he was alive or dead. Then the screaming started. Bitzy and Vashondra stood frozen listening to the sounds of dishes and furniture samashing, the wails of ultimate human terror, and above that the horrible piercing shriek of Neenor's sexual climax. Then all was silent. The front door opened and out stepped Neenor, smoking a cigarette. Vashondra, with hands on her hips, glared at Neenor. "Who do you think is going to clean up this mess?!" she snapped at him. "You've got something hanging out of your nose." Neenor replied. cuddles
He proferred another handkerchief, this one of the silvery, ultra-absorbent Gore-Tex™ preferred by deep space travellers and drooling ski-parka fetishists. Philip
With an embarrassed little giggle, Vashondra accepted the hanky. Her head dipped forward into its soft, silvery folds as she prepared to blow her nose. none
Neenor discreetly congratulated himself on how quickly he'd mastered yet another planet's social customs by giving his posterior gwen-chii-gaw a sharp tweak. The resulting bout of flatulence was so noxious as to make its way into the deepest confines of the saucer, causing instant loss of consciousness among the bridge crew and producing a loud mrnyaowg! of protest from the ship's cat Ignavia. Philip
Vashondra inhaled deeply through the space-Kleenex, in anticipation of ridding her nostrils and sinuses once and for all of this infernal blockage... none
...At the very same moment that Bitzy was roused from her stupor and remembered why Vashondra was full of Gilligan's Brain in the first place, and what she'd been before Bitzy had stuffed her nose with them...
...And then she remembered the deadly pie, ticking quietly away inside Vashondra's stomach, waiting for the signal to blow...
"NOOOOOOOOO," she screamed...
As Vashondra huffed,
and puffed,
and blew --
Gilligans brains out. The deadly pie actually turned out to be 3 bean bake, a hillbilly cuisine favorite of the West Virginians, which, incredibly, is who Bitzy had learned to stuff things in her nose from. none
Gilligans brains out. The deadly pie actually turned out to be 3 bean bake, a hillbilly cuisine favorite of the West Virginians, which, incredibly, is who Bitzy had learned to stuff things in her nose from. none
"Gol-leee," said Neenor, shaking his head from side to side. "You kin say that agin."
"Gilligans brains out. The deadly pie actually turned out to be 3 bean bake, a hillbilly cuisine favorite of the West Virginians, which, incredibly, is who Bitzy had learned to stuff things in her nose from," declared the unknown Stranger for the third and final time.
The last gobbet of Gilligan's brain left Vashondra's nose and was quickly absorbed into the space-Kleenex, and Bitzy watched in horror as the once-again-empty shell of Vash crumpled to the ground.
"For fuck's sake, not again!" exclaimed Bitzy and Neenor.
And while Bitzy was wondering if there were any proverbial unturned stone beneath which she might find another, less chancy method of reanimating her friend, Neenor began again to feel the vhing-wa, the sweet hungry itch spreading outward from the soggy base of his dhonk-hee-khonk, which signalled to him that his desire was ready to be satiated anew.
He turned to the distraught Bitzy. Earth girls were all of a kind anyway, weren't they? He smiled at her. "Why do you look so sad, my greenish whij-na-soömp? What is there to cry for? Have the stars fallen from the heavens? Has the ghuonch left its celestial post? There, there; if you must cry, cry on Neenor's shoulder, and Neenor will be sad with you, and drink the salt of your jewellike tears, and be stimulated by their saline content, all the way to the haj-wa-snik nerve-cluster at the root of his swollen h'uuv..."
How often these things ended like this for poor Bitzy, she thought to herself. Lost in a strange place and abandoned by her loved ones to the wayward winds of to the ghostly shade of death and left to cry on the shoulder of a handsome stranger who often smelled of sulfur and Brut. She allowed herself to burrow deeper into Neenor's comforting embrace and let her tears bathe her sorrow, all the while vaguely aware of something furtively moving within the tight silvery cofines of Neenor's space trousers. "Goddammmit", she thought softly to herself,"they're all the same all over the universe." Lanark
The End
November 12, 1998