GENWiki

   distantly out through his office window, hands clasped
   behind him. . .)) Captain's log, 32-28-32.8, the StarChip
   Enterboing was on it's way to a rendezvous point in the
   Denise star system. We were scheduled to meet the StarChip
   RSN Procrastination. This is the fourth time we've tried to
   meet Procrastination, but so far, they have yet to show up.

   (we hear a short burst of musical notes over the intercom,
   sounding much like an atonal passage from Slayer's "Angel
   of Death")

Ensign Che : Captain, we're getting a number of distress calls

   about an outbreak of some "virus" or something. . .

Satan : I'll be right up.

   (Two stagehands open the elevator door, and a determined
   Satan stumbles into the bridge taking his seat.)

Science officer Glasya : Sir, we're getting word that this virus

   has infected and has either destroyed or seriously messed up
   numerous disks out in the Pirate Community.

Satan : Damn, were are my drugs when I need 'em?

Che : Alotta compliants are coming from AEland sir, virus talk is

   clogging systems around the known universe.

Lieutenant Mogul : A transmission sir, coming from the StarChip

   Digital Gang.

Announcer : A fuzzy, broken picture appears on the screen, we see

   the sullen face of the much repected and feared Admiral Ackfart,
   his eyes are distant and glassy. Piles of disks lie scattered
   around him. The picture breaks up as it fades in and out. Admiral
   Ackfart seems distraught, perhaps delirious. He looks up into
   the camera, shakes two handfuls of floppies towards it.

Ackfart : [the image breaks up, scratch, garble] Disks! all my

   [garble, snap] destroyed! [crackle, pop] murder the
   Fucken poser! [garble, snap] Fear, trembling among...
   [snap, bleep] "your Apple has a virus, HA ! HA ! HA ! your... "
   [fade, pop, scratch] HA ! HA ! [garble] ... get me a IIc.

Satan : The man's obviously suffering from delirium

Deth : [crackle, snap] … black leather and chains … [fade,

   flicker] ... Sex, drugs, and ... shit? ... [pop, grech] ...
   vote for The Misfits...

   (Enterboing looses the signal)

Satan : Now we know he needs our help. . .

Mogul : This stuff sounds worse than EAs copy protection, wheeeew!

Announcer : Being true to his 4096 colors, Lord Satan blits the

   EnterBoing around, and goes into hi-res mode.

Satan : Ensign, set course for the BAADG Star System. If anyone

   can figure this stuff out, they can. We must make this a
   universe of Safe Sectors.

Announcer : Che grabs his mouse and selects the new "preferences"

   of Workbench 666.666 Hitting a couple of wrong buttons on his 27
   button mouse, a strange message appears in the menu bar saying
   "Eat me, nonconformist pig!"

Glasya : Sir, more messages about the virus, coming in.

   Apparently there are several different varieties from  "harmless"
   ones on up to deliberately malicious ones which can cause serious
   destruction in this and neighboring dimensions.

Satan : And I thought that the Apple race had evolved beyond

   this sort of thing. What sort of wanker would do this!

Announcer : The EnterBoing sailed on towards the unknown, while

   all around the Apple Universe users cowered in terror, wondering
   if their copy of that great new screen-hack "OingBoingWoingZoing"
   will be >>>The One<<<.

   At last, EnterBoing reaches the borders of the Infected Zone, and
   goes into orbit around the small puce-colored planet Foo. The
   crew beams down to a hideous sight. Smoke pours fourth from
   special effects generators, turning the sun blood-red. Burned out
   buildings line the streets, while people wander aimlessly
   clutching stacks of their beloved disks just cleaned of
   all those nasty byte thingies. Everywhere people mumble things
   like "click click click" or "formatting, verifying, formatting".
   The crew stepped over piles of rubble (joysticks, cp/m emulators,
   Andy Warhol issues of Suck Me, little red unicycles) in the
   street. Bonfires burned openly. Babies cried as their mothers
   comforted them softly humming songs from "Master of Puppets".

   A seven year old comes up to Glasya, tears streaming down his
   round little cheeks...

K-Rad Kid : Please mister (he pleads in a calculatedly pitiful tone)

  you got a good copy of Marble madness? Puleeeezzze??? I haven't
  found the "secret level" yet...

Announcer : The crew was touched and angered by the expressions

  of pure hopelessness. The sight of that young boy, EORed into
  their collective cortexes.

  Late that nite, Satan was in his study lost in thought...

Satan : Hmmm, now leseee—–I guess we'll "enter the city".

  Gee, after 4 years of this and with 533,979 hit-points you'd
  think that I'd find Mangar by now.

Announcer : Leaning back in his chair, he props his feet up on

  the table, ready for a relaxing evening, when suddenly-----

  (cymbal_crash=ON) on his screen appears : "HA HA HA! a virus is
  in your DOS 3.3! Formatting disk..."

  Satan's face bleaches white, then turns red as
  the purest form of anger grips him. The only noise in the room is
  "click click click-Formatting, Verifying, Formatting...".

  From deep inside the captains throat comes a sound quite unlike
  anything we've ever heard before. Louder than the mating call of
  the Altarian Megadonkey, louder than Steve Jobs being fired, even
  louder then a thousand Timex Sinclair owners saying why they don't
  "need" multi-tasking.

  "formatting, click, click, click (heh heh heh)..."

  Glasya looks up from the book she's reading ("The Beastess Speaks")...

Glasya : What the hell was that?

Che : It sounded like the voice of someone who just reformatted

  their Bard's Tale character disk.

Mogul : How do you know that?

Che : Just look at page 10 of the script, fuck-head.

Announcer : Lord Satan bursts into the crew quarters, kicks

  aside the piles of dirty laundry, Nibble subscription
  notices, stolen software registration forms, growling...

Satan : Let's get these worthless mortals! NOW!

Announcer : The crew roll out of their cots, and rush up to the

  bridge. Glasya immediately sets to access the EnterBoing's
  database for a search of possible culprits.

Glasya : Dammit! Where's the dongle!

Che : What?

Glasya : That thing you're playing with.

Che : Oh, heh, sorry. Thought it was a mouseport protector.

Announcer : Plugging in the dongle, Glasya checks references from

  vandalism to religious worship, from Democratic presidential
  candidates to leprosy to BCPL. Anything that might offer a lead.

Glasya : Wait, wait a minute here. Under the heading of "Religious

  hackers from the East" it sez that "the great Lord Jesus, is
  a smug and flatulent fellow, proud of his own cleverness. In
  order to demonstrate just how clever he really is, Jesus likes to
  play 'pranks' on computer users across the galaxy. By having his
  servants, a form of 'mental eunuchs' create software 'viruses'.
  These have little more utility than to create terror, discord and
  all around nastiness in the user community by systematically
  trashing disk after disk. 'Can't a guy have a little fun, huh?'
  Gronk remarked once after one of his viruses was mistaken for a
  simple-minded operating system. Later called 'ProDOS', it almost
  single-handedly set back the cause of personnel computing by 1200
  years. Another one of his efforts unleashed upon the early IBM
  users caused otherwise perfectly healthy disk drives to
  constantly repeat his name when running : 'jesus saves, jesus
  saves, jesus saves'.

Yeoman Impaylor : Let's crucify this dude!

Announcer : The EnterBoing gracefully swings around and sweeps

  off into the great unknown to meet their greatest enemy yet.

  After the commercial for some "feminine hygiene" gunk, nose
  drops, and "Chocolate Covered Sugar Bombs" Fortified Breakfast
  Cereal-Breakfast of Geeks, StarChip EnterBoing settles around
  a dark and foreboding planet.

Mogul : I can feel the goodness, the…, the…

Che : Holiness

Mogul : Thanks. Holiness, the…

Che : Churlishness.

Mogul : Yeah! Churlishness. The mental…

Che : Putrescence?

Mogul : no

Che : Pournellelishness?

Mogul : That's it!

Announcer : On their viewer, the planet loomed mightily before them.

Glasya : Like wow man, look at that planet looming mightily before us.

Announcer : Looking much like an avocado with a bad case of acne.

Glasya : Yeah, or an orange with hemorrhoids.

Che : Captain, were getting a transmission from the SlimeLord

Announcer : On the screen appears the most hideous creature ever

  seen or imagined. Looking much like an ugly geek wearing a
  wreath of thorns, or that...that K-Rad Kid!1!!!@!!!!1@1!!2!
  Jesus' skin, if it could be called that, hangs loose on his
  twisted frame. Open black sores ooze something to gross to
  even mention to this bunch.

  His head resembling a shriveled Mickey-Mouse balloon, is
  indicative of his overall intelligence. On the wall behind Jesus
  are the 3 most virulent letters in the Apple universe (second only
  to that "I" term) : "GOD", the Goddamn Orifice Destructors.

Jesus : Alien StarChip, Youse Guys want some software, yes? Real

  cheap, I gotz me Fairy Tale, WordPerfect, AppleWorks. I'ya
  got it all. Ahl the newest warezzz.

Satan : Not on your life Jesus, you ugly dude, you. We don't

  want any of your swill.

Che : But sir, he's got AppleWorks. Can't we make an exception?

Satan : What? And break the "Prime Destructive"?

Che : But siiiiiir, it's AppleWorks!1!@11!!

  <smack>

Che: Owww…

Jesus : Well, Satan, wanna deal?

Satan : Yeah, were going to deal with you alright.

Announcer : The crew donn special isolation garments: black shiny

  jackets bearing the EnterBoing's emblem on the back, a bloody
  pentacle superimposed upon a goat's head. Check those pupils.
  The demonic crew shimmer away in a blazing explosion of special
  effects. and reappear in a bunch of twisty little mazes looking
  all alike. Stuff crawls down the walls, their feet stick to the
  floor as if they were in a cheap theater.

  Through a port, they catch the sight of a small band of GOD
  mutants busily working away dreaming up new viruses, or cracking
  Tass Times in Tonetown, Deathlord, and Star Blazer. Above them
  hangs the sign "Why use software, when it's not RELIGIOUS!".
  The crew slinks up to the doorway, Phazers drawn.

Cracker : Ha Ha! Hey Lou, check out this new virus. After 4

  boots, it writes a Micro-Prose copy protection scheme to their
  harddisk.

Satan : (whispers) Those vipers! Ok, Set phazers to "Inferno". GO!

Announcer : They dive into the room. Crackers turn around, terror

  showing in their beady eyes and flaccid faces. Squealing like
  baby pigs they scatter in every direction. Sweeping the room with
  their destructo-phazers, the crew hits everything with a monitor
  systematically violating all possible warranties. Paula chips
  writhe in agony, gasping for bits but finding none. CRTs split
  open, spilling their load of pixels onto the floor like so much
  sand.

  Thrilling, action-packed editing makes this a scene much too
  intense for words.

  And as quickly as it began, it was over. The crackers huddled
  silently in their respective piles of oozing flesh. Liquified
  computers litter the room.

Glasya : Gee, that was fun, letz do this again sometime.

Announcer : Satan grasps the only surviving cracker by his soft

  pliable throat. Holding him up he stares into his little
  twitching face...

Glasya : Thatta-boy Satan, you hold-him and I'll sector edit him.

Satan : Where is Jesus?

Cracker : At the end of the hall, through the sliding doors that

  stagehands must open to make look automatic.

Announcer : The crew makes their way down the hall, stopping now

  and then to shake stuff off their feet. As then approach the door
  labeled "His Jesusness, 1.0-Danger! 1 Million Ohms", 2 overpaid
  stagehands yank it apart.

  Jesus is playing with a legal copy of Bard's Tale, and doesn't
  notice his guests. Satan sees that he has just found Mangar.

  A brilliant 16 color non-interlaced beam pierces through the
  stuffy air, striking the system squarely in RastPort.

Jesus: What the Heaven? (he jumps back from the smoldering rubble)

  Who are you!

Che : We're the Legions of the Damned, here to mop up the Universe of

  your ilk.

Mogul : Snappy dialogue Che!

  <smack>

Mogul : Owww…

Jesus : Oh, ok. But first, do I get a final requestor?

Satan : Well, ok, what do you want.

Jesus : Just what is the "Video Toaster".

Satan : Only the GnuTekians know for sure. Glasya, ready?

Glasya : 'natch. Ok extra-halfbright breath, stand back!

Announcer : Glasya blasts the piles of legal software, and

  stacks of new virus disks which were being readied for Beta test.
  Jesus looks in horror.

Satan : Jesus, you are under arrest, for Software Fundamentalism.

Satan : Captain's log, 3.14159, following the arrest of His

  Holiness Jesus, we reformatted the planet in an effort to make
  it useful to more destructive races. Meanwhile Jesus is now
  serving time in "computer hell", joining many others who violated
  rules of nonconformism, foulness and The Satanic Way (such as the
  guys responsible for cancelling the Wilton/North Report, the
  break-up of Possessed and Venom, and the continued existance of
  Back In Control). Jesus was sentenced to a lifetime hard labor:
  developing a Real-time parallel processing OS in Basic, on
  an 2k Timex Sinclair.

Announcer : Afterwards, the crew had one other stop to make, back

  to the planet Foo. They beam down to check up on the
  reconstruction efforts as well as to deliver some new Deth Disks,
  (numbers 6.11571x10E6 to 7.23551x10E6). Hundreds of eager hands
  reach out for software nourishment, not to mention the latest
  Bathory video.

  Meanwhile Glasya approaches a familiar young boy and hands him a
  new Marble-Madness. The kid's face brightens up...

K-Rad Kid : Geeee, thanks d00d!!11!@1!1! Wow. Say, you wouldn't happen

  to have "Return to Atlantis", would you??!111!!21@!!"

Glasya : Nope, sorry kid, we may be able to work wonders, but not

  miracles.

K-Rad Kid : Well, then, uh, what about AppleWorks???!?!1!!@!

<bzzzt>

Glasya : That'll teach the little bastard.

#define PARODY_BIT OFF

NOTE: No offense Admiral Ackbar (or other Digital Gang-ites). We just don't like the fact that you charge money for a board. Get a grip … capitalists.

Stay tuned for the next excitigating bit-packed episode of…

     SatanTrek - The Dying Generation - Volume II - The Trouble with Rodentz

Thanks to: Absolut Vodka, Radio Station Parties, the U.S. Bong Co., Drugs, Satan, all my friends at Metal Blade, ze Demonroach, Metal Hell, The Black Lord, Dr. I/O, mindless violence, sex, nuclear warheads, Samantha and Gina (sex-crazed U.K. female thrashers), Kim "Aleister Crowley is God" H, vaVo. All thrash metal bands (Slayer, Metallica, Exodus, Sacred Reich, etc…)

No Thanks to: bad trips, cops, politicians, burning dogs, Anthrax (for screwing up my interviews with Celtic Frost and Exodus in Phillie, PA Dec 12, 1987), dead bodies with V.D., getting busted for grave robbery.

Metal Hell Private [919] COMING SOON ←——–> The Metal AE [201] 879-6668

(the above bit of mindless tripe is Copyright (c) 1988 Lords of Twilight).

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