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Chapter 7

The Story The Authors

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. Philip

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..." Philip

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

The Story	The Authors
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.	Philip
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..."	Philip
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

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