Three Word Story, The Story so Far (Re-imagined)

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#1

Here is the challenge: try and take some entries from the three word story and try to create a real narrative that is true to the spirit of the story so far. It is much harder than it sounds…I got through only a few sentences. Try and imagine you are watching an episode of Battlestar and keep it true to that in anyway you can. It makes sense to copy over the words you are using so people can understand what you struggled with. Let’s keep this linear…take the words that follow the prior poster:

Here is our starting point:Hot Dog had breakfast in bed when the alarm irritated his rash so that it tried to eat Adama because he said to Three grumble grumble Rash must die grumble grumble Tigh entered saying where the frak is my whiskey? Hot Dog scratched his head and showed Tigh his best friend Larry It was nighttime again…or what it day? Hot Dog was never sure. Not that night or day were even concepts that meant much anymore. Sure, for a miserable stretch on New Caprica night and day made sense again, but now, not so much. The frakking alarm buzzed incessantly by his head which he smacked with little remorse. “Another day, another opportunity to die” he thought to himself ruefully. Things were getting worse for him. He no longer felt much joy for anything. Food had lost its taste. He felt the echo of remorse for his lost family, his hometown and his friends all lost in the attack. Most of all what he felt remorse for was the itch between his legs…what a stupid night that was. Seemed like a good idea at the time, but then again after that much Ambrosia he could have been convinced that sticking his willy in a Viper turbine was a sound plan. What he ended up sticking his willy in turned out to be almost as bad.

Swinging his feet out from his bunk he stood up, stretched and was surprised to be nose to nose with Admiral Adama. Adama stared at Hot Dog with steely blue eyes “Son, were you just scratching yourself?” Momentarily caught off guard Hot Dog blinked. “What?” was the only intelligent response he could muster. “Don’t make me repeat myself” Adama said, not too unkindly. “Yes sir” Hot Dog replied sheepishly. “Well, you should probably see Doc Cottle about that”

From outside they heard the familiar rambling and stumbling of Tigh. “Where’s my whiskey?” he yelled out at no one in particular as his voice echoed down the long metal hall. Tigh paused occasionally to listen intently to the walls, furrow his brow and then continue. Hot Dog scratched his head and looked around for something to placate him…the old Cylon action figure he kept by his pillow wouldn’t do the trick. What would?

#2

Damn you, Solai. I’ve got deadlines and lots of work to do, but you’ve pulled me into something I couldn’t resist: Here’s the 2nd chapter.

When suddenly a frazzled Baltar entered with a tub containing Tigh’s whiskey. And Starbuck said “Till we can’t boogie no more” and dove in headfirst. The Rash started to talk but no-one could defend themselves from Starbuck’s enthusiastic screaming. So, like lemmings, everybody bounded forth… (everybody but Larry) toward crushing singularity.

As Tigh staggered down the hallway, he mentally pulled himself together. What could have happened to that tub of whiskey he had bartered to get via the black market? He remembered asking Ellen to have someone take the tub and transfer the whiskey into individual bottles….But who? He didn’t remember. Granted he had been falling down drunk at the time, but that was nobody’s fraaking business. When he was off-duty all bets were off. Even on duty a little pick me up never hurt too.

Meanwhile, Hot Dog decided to go check out what was going on in the pilot’s messroom. When he walked in partying was at a high fevered pitch. Suddenly a frazzled Baltar entered with a tub containing Tigh’s whiskey. Starbuck, who had already been hitting he booze pretty hard, got up from her card game walked over, to Baltar. “Where the frak did you get that?” she asked with a wolfish grin. “I have my sources,” said Baltar. And then whispered in her ear “I , shall we say ‘borrowed’ it from Colonel Tigh. Starbuck laughed uproariously and whispered back. “Did anyone ever tell you what a beautiful man you are, Dr. B?”.

Starbuck grabbed the tub from Baltar and set it on the ground. Enthusiastically she screamed ““Till we can’t boogie no more, people!. Who wants to wager 10 credits that I can do a summersault over to the top of this tub of whiskey!” Like lemmings, everyone in the mess bounded forth to place their bets. Hot Dog knew that Starbuck was getting out of control and tried to say something, but no one could hear him over the din. “Hot Dog, calm down.” said Helo, “I know Starbuck. She’s just letting off some steam. You should too Mr. Rash”. Hot Dog sighed, “Very funny, Helo…that’s all I need is an even stupider nickname.” And then Starbuck dove in headfirst.into the tub.

#3


That was awesome ThotFullGuy! “You should too Mr. Rash”…classic!

#4

Thanks Solai. Yours was awesome too! This is fun, and I hope this thread continues.
But I think we need to establish a protocol for this thread so that people don’t accidently write up the same section.
So I suggest that when someone wants to write the next section of the story, post a one sentence post saying “I am working on the next section of the story. Standby.”
Or something like that.

#5

Larry told them, “beware of pipe.” Boomer called [to] Larry: "Hey man what’s Athena doing with Doc Cottle’s lab-coat?”

Colonel Tigh stomped through Galactica’s aging corridors like a man possessed. “Why the frack me? I swear to the Lords of Kobol, if I can just find my missing whisky, I will start going to church again. Is it much to ask for one gods damn thing to go right in my life,” He silently ranted. So agitated was the Colonel, not once did he realize his left hand clenched Hot Dog’s cylon-action figure in an iron death-grip.

Nearly tripping over an old pipe that had broken loose from the last Cylon attack, Tigh stooped down to grasp the pipe. “Damn ship is falling apart,” he cursed.

“Saul! There you are; I have been looking all over for you! You won’t believe the story I just heard from one of our pilots…,” Adama said, with his voice trailing off as he looked at the objects held in Tigh’s hands.

“You alright Bill,” asked Tigh, concerned for the last friend he had left, but he may as well been talking to empty space.

Seeing the combination of the pipe and the centurion action figure had transported the Admiral to another place, another time. Instantly images flooded his mind. Images he had thought long buried. His viper exploding in air. A battle of life and death—fought falling through the air, and on the ground. A metal pipe. The scarred metal face plate of a centurion—grinning at him like a twisted parody of life. Was it alive? No, but what……Boomer…why would he think of her now?

“Bill, are you alright,” asked Tigh once more, finally snapping his friend out of his walking nightmare.

“What….what is that,” Adama weakly asked, pointing a single finger at the action figure.

“Larry,” said Tigh, himself puzzled at its presence. “Larry, where the Frack did that come from? I knew a Larry once, in the war, didn’t I,” the Colonel thought to himself in bewilderment.

The conversation was quickly interrupted by Doc. Cottle, who stormed around the corridor with all the fury of a Cylon nuclear warhead.

With the veins on his forehead angrily bulging with each heartbeat, the doctor asked with a raspy voice: “what the frack has that Cylon done with my lab coat!”

#6

flasher Thai Chee? Athena smiled, saying,“You wish, geekgirl !” “Gimme that!” Cottle said. Then Roslin woke up from being in thecoat. Feeling thirsty, she drank baby blood Like it was cold ambrosia. Suddenly, she was transported to a basestar of Cylon cats “meeow,” replied “Kat.”

Having lived with humans for so long, Athena began to miss the complexity of living on a basestar. She missed being able to project. She missed the company of those like her. She was an outsider. No matter how close she got to Adama or Helo or any of the crew. As far as they were concerned she was a frakkin cylon.

While she past the sickbay she was overcome. She glanced at something that reminded her of home. Doc Cottle’s lab coat looked very similar to something the Six and Three models had worn. Instinct took over and she found herself taking the coat and searching for seclusion. Someplace she could be alone. On a Basestar, it didn’t matter you could walk around naked but on a Battlestar and around these repressed, de-evolved meatbags, she would stand out. She found an unoccupied head. There was no lock but it would have to do.

Roslyn was on her way to see Doc Cottle when she noticed Athena swipe the doctor’s lab coat. Roslyn thought to herself, “That’s odd” and followed the cylon.

Tigh looked at Cottle wondering if the doc had finally lost it, “What about your lab coat?” Cottle explained that Athena had grabbed his coat and run off. Adama continued to stare at Larry. Tigh rubbed his head, “Alright I’ve had enough of this crrrraaaap! First my whiskey is taken and now the doc’s lab coat. What’s going on around here?” Cottle then explained that he followed Athena. She was in the head.

Athena began to project. It was invigorating. She started to access some of her favorite programs. Suddenly images from the past began to flash through her mind. Living with humans had dulled her cylon abilities. She relaxed and allowed her natural condition to take over.

Roslyn had followed Athena and watched her enter the head. She approached the door slowly. Then she was in a forest. She wondered if this was another Kamala hallucination. She was standing in front of a giant tree. When she peered around it, she saw Athena levitating in Cottle’s lab coat.

Adama, Tigh and Cottle walked to where Cottle saw Athena enter. They opened the door and found Rosyln against the wall and Athena in Cottle’s lab coat in the center of the room. Adama could not shake the image of Boomer from his mind. Her ghost began to echo. Then he spoke but in Boomer’s voice, "Hey man what’s Athena doing with Doc Cottle’s lab-coat?” As if coming out of a dream Adama realized Boomer was talking to Larry. Then the action figure Larry answered also using Boomer’s voice, “Flasher Thai Chee?”

Athena was in a state of bliss. She had not realized how much she missed the experience of projecting. In an instant the images stopped. She stood in a forest with Boomer, Larry, Roslyn, Adama, Tigh and Cottle. For a moment she was stunned and tried to process what she saw. She obviously had projected externally and enveloped anyone in her vicinity. Boomer turned to Larry and said, "Hey man what’s Athena doing with Doc Cottle’s lab-coat? Flasher Thai Chee?” Athena smiled saying, “You wish, geekgirl!!”

Cottle still enraged said, “Gimme that!” Athena felt compelled to place the coat on Roslyn. Once she did the projection faded and was gone. Roslyn collapsed. Adama and Cottle raced to her while Tigh guarded Athena. Roslyn was taken to sickbay.

Roslyn stared at the levitating cylon. She began to hear strange sounds coming from the forest. She looked around to see where they were coming from. When she looked back at Athena, the coat was floating toward her. It covered her and she felt suffocated. She woke up from being in the coat. She was in a bright room. It was white for as far as she could see. No walls. No boundaries. Since she had just been choked, she was thirsty. An I.V. labeled baby’s blood was connected to her arm. Instinctively, she removed the I.V. and began to drink it like it was cold ambrosia. As the blood raced down her gullet, the strange noises from the forest returned. They sounded like whining machinery.

All around her the scene began to change. Walls formed yet it was very alien and unfamiliar. A pulsating red light emanated from the room. She thought to herself, “I must be on a Basestar.” The strange noise began to escalate. Then several cats entered the room and continued to meow. Roslyn followed the cats as they circled her. When she looked up there was Kat, the former Viper pilot from Galactica. She was sprawled across a couch dressed in a white one-piece see-through stocking. Roslyn stared at her in amazement and said, “Nice outfit.” Kat seem to look through Roslyn and replied, “Meow!”

#7

Bravo Frakkintalos! Artfully done! You have inspired me to take another whack…you have set the bar rather high!

#8

Nine Downloads is more than Brother Cavil’s swirl requirement to achieve maximum restoration of youth. Without further ado Doral flourished his bright rash

“Brother Cavil” Doral reported, “She has returned.”

“What? Who?” Cavil said distractedly. His mind was elsewhere.

“The one the meatbags call Athena…”

This jolted Cavil from his reverie. Athena? Here? The traitor? “Bring her to me, now.”

“Don’t you think that is rather rash?” Doral replied uncomfortably adjusting his pantsuit.

“Yes Doral…and I would appreciate you not questioning me, ever.” Cavil’s eyelids flexed as he stared at Doral who could not help but shudder. Shaken, Doral left the room briskly.

Cavil shook his head to himself and gazed back at the wall where he had been staring before being interupted. He had been thinking of Ellen again. She had been amusing to him in a childish sort of way. She certainly knew how to pleasure him and that had endeared her to him somewhat. He doubted if she would ever understand how very little she meant to him, but for that short time they had together she made him feel younger, more innocent. It was only nine times they had been together, but it was enough. Ultimately he came to think of the nascent attachment he felt to her as weakness, something to abhor, something that had no logic.

Cavil looked down at the water and plunged his hand in again. It was time to refocus at the work at hand.

#9

Okay just so long as we do not leave the classic three wrod story. Both threads will live in harmoy forever and ever :smiley:

#10

Excellent job, Solai. Okay, I’m up to bat for the next one.

#11

WOW you guys ROCK!! Very artfully done! I’m having a blast reading these! When I have a few minutes I’ll come back and do one too. Keep it up!!

#12

Seeing it, HotDog ran to his Cylon pal, Larry. The Rash sighed. Meanwhile, back on the Farm, Bob: The Heavy Raider was lonely and in need of some goo time

(this continues the stories above, so make sure you read ‘em all.)

Although Helo did his best to get him cheer up, Hot Dog remained in a somber mood. He sighed, and discretely gave his rash a scratch. Might be best to do what Adama suggested and go have Cottle check out that rash.

“Catch you later Helo”, Hot Dog said. “Tell Starbuck to wash up before she’s hits the sack. Her bunk is right below mine. I don’t want to be smelling whiskey all night.”

Helo chuckled and replied: “Oh sure. Like anyone can tell Starbuck what to do. Sure you won’t stay for a bit?”

“Naah. Later Helo.” He made his exit from the rowdy party atmosphere of pilot’s mess and headed toward sickbay. He passed Commander Adama and Colonel Tigh in the corridor. Something seemed off about the Old Man, but Hot Dog tried not to stare. Looked like Adama was lost in some sort of deep daydream or something, and Tigh was trying to snap him out of it. It’s kind of comforting to see that even the Old Man can’t hide the stress of this post-apocalyptic life sometimes, Hot Dog thought to himself. In many ways Adama reminded Hot Dog of his own father, now dead with most of the rest of humanity. For some reason the image of that Doral cylon popped into Hot Dog’s mind. Story goes, that a Doral was strapped with explosives and tried to blow up Commander Adama. Only Tigh’s quick action saved the Old Man in the nick of time. Hot Dog continued walking by, and out of the corner of his eyes he saw that Tigh was holding in his hand Larry, Hot Dog’s old cylon action figure. “Frak”, Hot Dog said to himself. “How am I gonna get that back, discretely?”. That’s all I need—everyone finding out I keep a kid’s toy to comfort myself.

When he was just around the corner past Tigh and Adama, Hot Dog carefully looked back and saw the Old Man hand pulled himself together and the two were walking off in the other direction. He noted that Tigh tossed the Larry action figure in a nearby waste bin. When the coast was clear, Hot Dog ran full speed to the waste bin, extracted Larry and tucked the toy in his pocket, and walked on thankful that he wasn’t spotted.

Meanwhile….Space. Cold. Black with a sprinkling of infinite stars. Bob the Heavy Raider sighed despondently as he approached Base Star four. He was carrying a supercargo of newly reborn Sixes, Threes and Cavils from Resurrection ship 7. Here he was, brain the size of …whatever…bristling with armaments, and what did they have him doing? Just this. Back and forth. Shuttle humanoid models between ships. Sigh…Bob was depressed. Why couldn’t he do something exciting? Like Scar. Yeah. Scar had the life. Blasting away at vipers. Dying over and over. Waking up in that nice warm goo. How come I never get to do that? Oh, and what about Phil: The Heavy Raider? Why was Phil so special that he got picked for the suicide mission. Scuttlebutt was that Phil got to crash land into the unused museum-side launch bay of Galactica. The stupid humans didn’t realize Phil had a bunch of Toasters on board (Yeah, I’m a cylon, and I call them toasters—so sue me.). The squad of toasters nearly captured the battlestar. Now that’s what I call a cool mission. And Phil, he got to crash land and die and wake up in the goo.
Life ain’t fraking fair, I tell you.

Lost in thot, Bob landed carelessly with a thud on the landing pad aboard Base Star four. A brunette model six on the pad made some bitchy comment about the quality of the landing. Oh please, Bob said to himself. I hope you catch an incurable disease and die, lady.
Life. Don’t talk to me about life….

#13

Wo you guys are amazing. Your finally making sicne of the 1000 questions posed in the three word story

#14

Thanks Emily. I’m not sure we will be up to the task when we get to the “tacos”, “Ninja Wizard”, “Pirate” section, but imagination can weave wonders I suppose.

#15

So Starbuck said “lets go to The Playas Club to find some fine tillium distillate.” Chief had already depleted the inventory. But fortunately Romo Lampkin brought his cat, the final cylon. “can has cheezburger” said the crazed Ninja wizard. “Taco?”

Starbuck reeked of whiskey as she staggered through the corridors. She was still soaking wet from her dip in Tigh’s tub. Helo tried desperately to steer her toward her bunk. He knew better, though. She wouldn’t quit until she passed out. Almost on queue she shouted, “lets go to The Playas Club to find some fine tillium distillate.” Helo was in for a long night.

At the Playas Club, Galen Tyrol had his own problems and he decided to solve them by crawling into a bottle, more like a drum. “Ever wonder if you’re a cylon?” he questioned no one in particular. Most of the clientele were either passed out or on their way there. “I mean think about it. We can’t tell who is. They look just like you and me.” With that he smirked. “Aw Frak it. Give me another drink!” When his request was ignored he shouted, “Hey bartender!” and shook his empty glass.

The proprietor of the establishment turned to him and said, “We’re all out, Chief. Time to go home,” and thumbed to the door.

“Time to go home!?!” Starbuck shouted. “C’mon the party’s just started!” At this point Helo was basically carrying Kara. She threw her right arm into the air, grabbed a bulkhead, and allowed inertia to take over as her body flew into a booth. She turned to someone who was already passed out and continued, “Am I right?” When she got no response, “No?” She grabbed another passed out person, “Huh? Am I?” Again no response, “No?” She continued around the table.

“You are correct, Captain.” Romo Lampkin entered with his cat. “The party’s just started.” Romo then opened a small foldable table and placed a deck of cards on it. “Allow me to demostrate that the hand is indeed quicker than the eye.” Helo stood with his arms folded and turned to Kara who laughed and then blew air through her lips, unimpressed.

Romo’s cat made its way to the end of the bar where the Chief sat. Galen eyed the feline, “What do you want?” To his surprise the cat responded, “To discuss your inquiry.”

“My wha?.. Hey wait… You’re talking. Gods, I am drunk.” Tyrol slapped himself.

“No you’re not dreaming. This is quite real.” The cat continued, “I was refering to your question about wondering if you’re a cylon. I think you’ll be surprised to know that I am a cylon.”

Galen, still dumbfounded, stared at the cat. “I’m gonna have one heck of a hangover tomorrow.”

Tyrol thought he saw the cat smile, “No doubt. But to more pertinent matters. You see, we’ve been running through this cycle for eons and I don’t know about you but I’m tired of it. All this has happened before…well, it’s got to stop.”

The Chief just nodded, “Uh-huh.”

The cat replied, “I’ll take that as agreement. We’ll undoubtedly need to get the others on board with the program. Last time Tory tried to get us to stop the cycle and you saw what happened to her once her programming turned on. We’ll be in touch.” The cat turned and exited the bar.

As the final cylon made its way through the empty corridor, from the bowels of Galactica a figure in a black cloak emerged from the shadows. Its movements were blurred, as if passing on another realm or time. As it moved strange electric sounds could be heard. They were reminiscent of musical notes. “No reason to get excited”, the final cylon said. The figure’s movements turned from solid, to liquid, then gas and the cat was swallowed by the vapor. When the figure returned, “can has cheezburger” said the crazed Ninja wizard. “Taco?” The strange incantation it spoke had, on some metaphysical level, set the universe right. With that, it vanished. Yet it was comforting to know that the Ninja Wizard would be lurking in the shadows protecting all on their journey to Earth.

#16

ThotFullGuy, frakkintalos…well done! Between ThotFull’s inner Raider monologue or frakkintalos’ artfully tackling Ninja Wizards inquiring about Tacos…well done indeed!

<cracks knuckles>

Ok. I’m up.Then a pirate walked in, arrrrr. you being served? Today our Specials…are Algae a-la-Spam,…Penne ala Ambrosia and Tapioca Goo A cowboy enters with a pipe And hotdog’s rash glowed bright orange.The bonus challenge now is to continue to not only create coherent narrative but to weave in story elements from other people’s entries. You guys have done this very well…I hope to live up to the standard you have set.

The cat paused and turned, staring intently at the space where the figure had appeared. Those words…they invoked something in him he could not control. Thoughts. Feelings. He felt a growl well up from his belly and for a moment and the corridor began to spin wildly. He knew his place, he knew his role. All this had happened before and all of this would happen again…so why did he feel unease? Maybe it was just the ventilation system…it appeared to be broken again. Instead of being silent it made a faint sound, like a child howling in the distance. He breathed deep, licked his paw to focus himself and proceeded to the Galactica mess hall. If nothing else, those words from the mysterious figure had left him with a ravenous appetite.

The cat sat down at a table with a tray piled high with cheese, milk, tacos and fillet of fish cheeseburgers. “It would seem my eyes are bigger than my stomach” the cat thought ruefully patting his kitty belly. The mess was devoid of anyone easing the strain of his guilt for being so over-indulgent.

“What? Hey! Are you being served?” the cat heard from behind him. Before he could turn around Tigh unceremoniously sat down next to him. “I’m talking to you Cat!” he said laughing, “what are the specials? Mice wraps? Bird pizza?”

“See here.” The cat began while spearing a piece of gouda on his claw, “I am simply trying to have a nice quiet meal here, do you mind?”

Tigh’s one eye blinked. “Did you just talk to me? What the frak was in that whiskey?”

The cat sighed. “Yes, yes you doddering fool. I can talk and I’m a cylon. You are a cylon. Everyone is a fraking cylon. My name is Fook, you are Tigh…Now can I eat?”

Tigh leaned back in his chair and stared at ceiling. “So…it is true…I didn’t want to believe it. All my life I’ve had this strange feeling that there’s something big and sinister going on in the world.”

Fook looked up from his taco, “No, that’s perfectly normal paranoia. Everyone in the universe gets that.”

Tigh pursed his lips somewhat, not quite believing him. “Don’t talk falsely… it is getting late”

From the doorway came a crash as Hot Dog stumbled in carrying a very drunk member of the deck gang. Upon seeing Tigh Hot Dog quickly slipped his recently retrieved action figure into his pocket.

“Sir,” Hot Tog stopped and blinked seeing whom Tigh was eating with. “I didn’t know you had a cat.”

“I don’t solider.” Tigh glanced at Fook who imperceptibly shook his head, “Erm…Romo asked if I could watch him for a bit while he worked out some final details from the whole Baltar trial.”

Hot Dog furrowed his brow. Nothing much surprised him anymore…but having the Colonel sitting here…hanging out with a cat…now that was unright unsettling.

“Hope you and your friend don’t mind some company. This fella here is in desperate need of some food to absorb some of the excess of the evening.”

“yeehaw…” was all the sunshine boy could utter before turning a shade of green. Hot Dog gently removed the pipe from his mouth.
“What sounds good buddy? Tapioca? Pesto Penne? Same old algae soup with mystery meat?”

“I dunno. Water.” he slurred slumping over onto the table. Hot Dog scanned what was available, but the pickings weren’t good. Picking up a glass that looked only slightly used he pressed tried to get water from the spigot…which provided nothing. He stepped down to the coffee spigot, again getting nothing. The last remaining spigot gave him a shudder…no one used that one. He looked back at the drunk crewman…frak…he needed something in his system. He pressed the glass underneath the last spigot.

What came out made him feel uneasy. It smelled all right, but it is more what it represented. This stuff was the last of the Cylon juice from New Caprica. No one wanted to drink the stuff…some did on a dare and reported it wasn’t all bad. Hot Dog wouldn’t touch the stuff normally, but the situation seemed to warrant exceptional steps be taken.

“Buddy…here you go” he said gently as he placed the glass in the hand of the sunshine boy. He pulled himself up slightly and stared at it woozily. “What is that?” Hot Dog was afraid of this moment. He looked over at the spigot and indicated it with his head…"It’s, well…it’s that.”

The sunshine boy convulsed. Grabbing his mouth and his stomach simultaneously he ran out of the room knocking over tables and chairs as he went. Hot Dog started after him when he noticed the drink had been spilled right on his crotch.

“Frak!” he yelled scrambling to grab some napkins.

“So what now?” Tigh asked Fook under his breath.

“Now? We are done here for now.” Fook picked up a napkin and dabbed it on his face.

“Wait! I have questions for you!” Tigh said imploringly.

Fook looked sideways at Tigh and simply smiled. “Tigh, you will be ok, I promise. This has all happened before and this will all happen again. Next time maybe you can keep your eye.”

The cat leapt down from the seat and walked through the door. He glanced back to see Hot Dog madly trying to clean the orange stain from his jumpsuit. Tigh simply sat there stunned, unable to speak.

“Hey Tigh” Fook called to him.

Tigh turned his head and focused on him, “Yeah?”

“So long and thanks for all the fish”

#17

Yeehaw, indeed. Great show, Solai!

Don’t Panic! Thotful :slight_smile: Wonderful job bringing Hitchhikers.

#18

Oh man! You rock Solai.
Love the two Hitchhiker’s references: “No, that’s perfectly normal paranoia. Everyone in the universe gets that.” and “So Long and Thanks for the All the Fish”. And you really fit them in perfectly.

Well the next set is:
Suddenly, Billy arrived, back from the rash diagnosis conference with Dee. They learned many new sagitarron rash treatments involving kamala and Algae extract.

Part of me wants to tackle this one, but I doubt I’ll have time. I’ll travelling this week (in San Diego ironically). I’ll give a heads up later today as to whether I’ll take this one—but anyone else feel free to jump in. Audra? Come on, Audra, give it a whack.

#19

This means you too, Lucky! Don’t give up on it.

#20

Thanks ThotFullGuy. As a crazy stretch I also tried to blur some Watchtower lyrics in there. Of course, you need to be really familiar with the song to catch them, but it amused me.