…O MY…GOD. I am litterally in tears with laughter!! My sides hurt!
Frakintal (mind if I call you frakintal?), that was the funniest thing I ever read! She’s a Fembot!! Of course, now it all makes sense. You are the master, my friend. That’ was a slick trick indeed—an Austin Powers crossover while still serving the the three word story AND maintaining BSG tone. …I need a minute before a read it again…The uncontrollable laughter is hampering my eyesight.
…ouch…ouch…laughter…painful…Frakkintalos, ThotFul, Wisebob…all brilliant…ow…
The Red Boy
6:00 am An alarm Clock beeped loudly as a young Teenager awoke with a rather annoyed look on his face. After leaving his room ,he stepped into the shower. After showering up and getting ready for the boring dull drudge-filled school day ahead , he walked out his front door into his drive way. As the bright yellow machine approached him, he looked at all the red reflections in the car windows. His skin had suffered from a rare skin disease since he was born. He was red , pure red like primary color red seriously…lol omg!. Thats what they would say to him with their incorrect grammar and lack of musical taste. The bus came to a stop and he walked on and sat on the uncomfortable Grey safety hazard of a seat. It took 30 minutes for the bus to get to the school. The boy put in his crappy ipod ear killer headphones and tried to rest.
It was around the 5th song on the Epic masterpiece Wolfmother, when the bus was flying out of control. The red boy thought to himself “I’m different I must get some sort of advantage.” He closed his eyes and focused. The world blurred around him. He jumped outside of the bus, and took all the passengers outside. Time came back to normality as the bus flipped over five times, and exploded. (your welcome Hollywood )
A week later a man came into his house. They both sat down. The red boy was intrigued by this mysterious black man.
“Hello” spoke the man.
“Hi …?” responded the boy.
" Could you explain what happened in the bus accident ?"
“Well umm…stuff…” Yadayada the he explained all the strange occurrences of the accident."
" That all must be very strange to you but if you let me explain it to you . It should make a lot more sense. We live a system of computers set up by evil robots in the year 2999 A.D. It was originally like a vacation resort or something now it’s bad. We live and breath in a computer program called The Matrix."
“Oh that umm makes sense…so…um…you want to talk to me about Xenu or something.” responded the Red boy.
The mysterious man ignored him and continued talking
" Every once in a while an object or program will spontaneously appear in the matrix. You are special being. You came from another reality. You are what we would consider to be a rash. Your current programmed body was created from a rash in a another reality."
“You mean the one outside the matrix.”
“No that is the first reality ,we are currently in the second reality, which is a part of the first one but the third reality is not connected at all. Which begs the question why is the first reality and the second reality two different realities ? But with that answer comes more questions so why bother ?”
“So does that mean I am going to be special. Am I going to be the Saviour of mankind? "
" No rash-based programs are bad.” spoke the man. He grinned and pulled out his semiautomatic weapon. Bullets sprayed into the Red boy as red blood squirted out of his red body onto the red floor which drains into the red rug which would be put into a red trash bin which will be taken by a garbage person who’s favorite color is red. From that point on the rash no longer existed…at least in the first and second reality which do not include the third reality but the first realities clearly defined the rule that is not any more realities than three but would a fourth reality really be defined by some of other reality’s rules. No that would be just bossy and rude.
Ding-dong the rash is dead
Which red rash? Hot Dog’s rash
Ding-dong the wicked rash is dead
Wake up you sleepyhead
Rub your eyes, get out of bed
Wake up cuz Hot Dog’s rash is dead
It’s gone where the sleeping go
Below - below - below
Yo-ho, let’s open up and sing and ring the bells out
Ding Dong’ the merry-oh, sing it high, sing it low
Let them know Hot Dog’s rash is dead
…Battlestar Galactica Season 5: The return of the rash
All the talk about Romo Lampkin on the 92 podcast got me a-thinkng…Wouldn’t it be fun to start a tread with stories (kind of like on this Three-word Reimigined thread) where the stoies are all filling in the blanks of Romo Lampkins backstory. I’m thinking it could be kinda like in the style of Back the Future II where there the action of Back to the Future I is going on at the same time. For example, what was Romo Lampkin doing when the Galatica was at Kobol? Or during the run up to the election? Or during the year on New Caprica? Hmm…I’m already writin’ 'em in my head…
Very freaky! I was watching the episode that will not be named last night and was thinking the same thing. What was Lampkin doing on New Caprica? Before the attack? What ship was he on? It’s a calling. We must answer.
Bump ti ti Bump Bump…Bump Bump
Saul Tigh sat heavily next to Starbuck’s mother. She was really a runway model who appeared in the Price is Right. “Come on down!” said, Game-show-host Doral. Tigh walked down and Drew Carry exploded.
Leoben strokes Kara’s hair while she stares at the mandala in her apartment on Caprica. “Look deeply into the center.” The painting begins to slowly swirl and come alive. Kara and Leoben are now floating in the atmosphere of a gas giant. They start to fall into the eye of the storm. While they fall Saul Tigh floats by. He is followed by Socrata, Starbuck’s mother. As the gravity of the planet takes control each body’s weight increases. The scene quickly changes. Kara and Leoben are in Kara’s childhood home and her mother is on the couch. Tigh falls from the sky and lands on the couch. Socrata turns, “Oh hello, Saul.”
Kara’s mother begins telling Tigh of her youth. She did a tour with the fashion circuit. She choked on her own smoke and laughed. “Look at me now. I was quite an item back then.” Tigh chuckled and the conversation fades. The TV in the room erupts with studio audience applause. Kara, Three, Leoben and the Hybrid are on the panel of contestants. Doral turns to Three, “Oh I’m sorry D’Anna it’s time for you to come out of the box. You know what that means audience!?!” A young and stunning Socrata Thrace walks over and takes the arm of Aaron Doral as he looks into the studio camera, “Who’s the next contestant on ‘The Price is Right’?” A voice booms over the studio speakers, “That’s right, Aaron. From the colony of Aerelon, it’s Saul Tigh!” The camera pans the audience searching for Saul. Doral shouts, “Saul Tigh, Come on down!” The camera finds the stunned colonel sitting next to Anders and Tyrol who are ecstatic. Tyrol is holding what looks like a detonator. Tigh stands and starts walking down the aisle. The camera follows him and passes the studio’s M.C., a man with glasses, crewcut, and bright smile. Tyrol starts pushing the detonator yet it doesn’t respond immediately. He hits it again and again. Tigh makes his way in between Kara and Leoben, he shouts, “Duck!!” and grabs Kara from behind the head and thrust her under the panel. Just then the M.C. explodes.
The smoke clears and there is movement amongst the rubble. Tigh brushes the dust from his uniform and smiles, “I love the smell of napalm in the morning. Smells like…Victory.”
Kara shakes her head and pieces of ceiling fly everywhere. “Nice job, colonel. What’s the occasion?”
Tigh squints with his one eye, “I’m not really the colonel you know Kara. Everything you’ve seen has a purpose and a meaning. It’s your job to figure out what that is. We’ve shown you the signs and given you the location of Earth. It’s now your turn. You must lead your people to it. But as we’ve shown you here, it will be at a great cost. But remember, it’s gonna be alright.”
Ellen swirled Cavil’s stiff drink. "Swirled, not stirred …”
Without warning, the dream-vision of Tigh and Socrata fades away—reminding Kara of the time she ate those mushrooms she had bought from that sweaty, fat, and overly hyper fellow who lived in that van down by the river near Caprica City–and in this moment, Starbuck is caught between the visions and her Viper plummeting towards its destruction. Alarms are blaring loudly, and all Kara need do is pull up, but the visions overtake her once more.
Looking around, Kara realizes she is standing in the casino on Cloud 9, as impossible as that seems.
“Frack, I need a drink if I am going to make any sense of this,” mutters Kara looking around. Something cold, hard, and metallic rams into her shoulder, knocking her onto the ground. “Meat bag, watch where you are going,” booms a scratchy, yet synthetic sounding voice above her.
Lying on the floor, Kara rolls over and finds her staring face to face with an original Centurion model, which, despite having an immobile face incapable of showing emotion, is standing there with all the air of a machine that is quite irritated. Inexplicably, a large metal pipe rolls toward Kara, and she grasps hold of it.
In one smooth motion, Kara rolls towards the Centurion, readying a mighty swing at the machine’s face plate. Cold metal fingers grasp her wrist, holding her in place. With only the space of an inch between them now, the mass of scratches and dents upon the Centurion’s face place are now visible to Kara.
“NOT AGAIN,” booms the Centurion. “I mean, honestly, what is it with you meat bags?” Kara could swear she sees the single roving red eye roll in annoyance. “The war is over, and the meat bag totals my ride, and beats me down with a pipe. Now I am stuck in some little meat bag’s dream, and she has the gall to get uppity with ME! Not on my watch sister! You are buying me a drink to make up for all this,” and with that, the Centurion stalks off towards the bar, dragging Kara behind him. “The name is Larry by the way,” Says the Centurion.
Scrambling her feet to keep up with Larry, Kara glances over the strangest sight she has seen yet: a group of Centurions huddled around a table playing cards.
“Darryl, Barry, Bob, and The Dude, how’s it going,” asks Larry.
“The Dude has had too much to drink,” says Darryl, as he points to a centurion that is beginning to spew hydraulic fluid.
“Well, somebody should grab the Heavy Raider, and take him home,” Replies Larry. “Friends don’t let friends drink and drive”
“Sure, are we going to see you at the club later; I hear 8 is going to be doing some naked Tai-Chi,” asks Darryl.
Sounding cheerful for the first time since Kara met him, Larry responds: “You know it!”
As they continue trudging towards the bar, Larry begins ranting.
“What a fracked up verse this is. I barely passed quality control, and the only thing I wanted from life was to create a drink that would be named after me, but noooo! I had to prove to the rest of the Cylon[z] that I could fight. I wouldn’t have ever passed the physical, but the army was hard up for recruits. Oh Larry, you must be running on windows vistas, they said. Stupid Frackers, what the hell do they know? Finally, I scored a combat assignment. Long story short, when I finally did manage to shoot down a human viper, the thought of the pilot escaping was too much, and I decided to end this cycle of humiliation right then and there, no matter what the cost. A stupid meat bag armed with a pipe ended all my dreams"
“Gods almighty do you ever shut up,” Kara complains.
Arriving at the bar, the duo sits down, and places their order with the blond bartender. When Kara gets a good look at the bartenders face she gasps.
“Ellen! What the frack is going on?”
“Didn’t Tigh tell you? Kara, you’re here so you can understand your destiny,” laughs Ellen. “Oh. Who are you sexy,” asks Ellen in a sultry voice as she looks over Kara’s bruised shoulder.
“Cavil, Brother Cavil,” says the skeevy voice. Cavil sits down next to Kara.
As Ellen swirls Larry’s drink with an umbrella straw, she asks,”how do you want your drink?”
"Swirled, not stirred,” responds the immaculately dressed, yet still quite skeevy Cavil.
Both Ellen and Cavil turn towards Kara, and with a wink, they say in unison: “This too, has a purpose and a meaning.”
The blond drunk man sitting next to Larry loudly yells “IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!!”
Taking the whole bar by surprise, Larry backhands the man, knocking him off the stool.
“What? Give me a break; after 387 times, that’s beating a dead Daggit,” says Larry.
“Horse dear, not a Daggit. If you are going to use a saying, at least try to keep it correct,” sighs Ellen.
Oh may Godz!!! This thead died, went to the Resurrection Ship, and downloaded to a whole new tub o’ goo!!
That was awesome, Lucky, well done! It’s about time Larry got some play!
We are takin’ it back! Woot! 
It’s alive. ALIVE!!!
Great job Lucky. I’d laugh but I’m in a room full of stuffed shirts. Frak it, I’ll laugh anyway. Glad to see this back.
Ok. <cracks knuckles> let’s see if I still got it. Here is my passage:
Meanwhile, Roslin is studying the scrolls and solves ‘Da Vinci Code’
“Machine gun jubblies?” Adama asked, “How did I miss those, baby?”
“It’s called foreplay” Roslin responded, “not that we have…you know…”
“Wait a frakking minute!” Tigh exclaimed. If you have machine gun jubblies, that makes you a hybrid!"
Cottle rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Don’t be ridiculous, they are not implanted…they are a support mechanism. Like a bra, they push and lift.”
Everyone looked at Cottle for a moment dumbfounded.
“Or, so I’ve read.” Cottle said sheepishly.
“Gentlemen,” Adama said raspily, “can you give us a moment here?”
Cottle and Tigh nodded and excused themselves. Once they were out of earshot Adama turned and looked at Laura with concern.
“You said you had something important you wanted to discuss.”
“Yes” Laura responded leaning to her left and picking up an ancient volume, “I was reading Pythia the other day…”
“I thought we agree no more reading Pythia!” Adama groaned.
“I know, but I can’t help it. It speaks to me, it is like it was written for me.”
Adama sighed. “What have you discovered?”
“Well” Laura opened to a marked page. "Listen to this:
“and unto the dying leader appeared a holy cup filled with blood as a sign of things to come. And lo, for it is said that the cup is but a metaphor for something else, like a woman, a wife of a god of the thirteenth tribe.”
“What does it mean?” Adama asked puzzled.
“I am not sure…” Laura pondered, “but it leaves me kind of hungry. What is for supper? Last night’s supper was awful…flambe algae.”
Nicely played with the Da Vinci thingy.
Blame it on insomnia, breaking up with the GF, or whatever, but last night I was bored so I thought it would be nice to see some more light hearted stuff get back onto the board.
Nice job Solai, so who’s next? FT, Thot, Wisebob, or Audra?
…except for the… three words in Chuck barged in to Emily’s dream, and danced Macarena with a lampshade wearing centurion housekeeper who was Sean’s new crime-fighting sidekick.
Pythia sat in the mountains on Kobol. The cave echoed with a sharp shrill sound. “Oh, not again.” Pythia placed her hands in the stream. A metallic voice resonated, “and unto the dying leader appeared a holy cup filled with blood as a sign of things to come. And lo, for it is said that the cup is but a metaphor for something else, like a woman, a wife of a god of the thirteenth tribe.” Pythia sighed, “They always get that wrong. Lost in translation or a desire for some other meaning. Gods, you write something after bad Aerilon and it creates such a mess.”
Pythia caressed the rocks in the stream to adjust the signal. Searching for the original text to find meaning, “What was I talking about? If only I’d known this would have been taken so seriously. You start dreaming about stuff and then…oh…here it is.” Pythia frowned. “Like a woman? Like a woman!?! That’s not what I wrote. Who changed that? Frakkin scribes copy scrolls and fall asleep then pick up where they left off. How can you even trust anything? Great Zeus!!” Pythia scanned the text, “It’s not like a woman. It’s tub of goo!! How did they get that wrong? ‘It’s a metaphor for a tub of goo holding the voice of god of the thirteenth tribe.’”
Abruptly, Pythia sensed a change in the currents of space and time. Pythia decided to follow them to whatever end. Before her, a vision unfolds. Chants of ‘Tory sucks’ and ‘Helo rocks’ echo throughout. In a room filled with smoke and flashing lights, a giant mirrored globe hangs from the ceiling. It rotates and sparkles creating hundreds of stars. Pythia wondered what this vision might reveal. An incredibly infectious beat thumped and a white-haired and bearded man entered. Was this a god? His movements were repetitive and rhythmic. It was enchanting and disturbing. An ancient centurion joined him and wore a red tasseled fixture on its head. The fixture teetered back and forth and distracted Pythia from seeing that the centurion was holding a feathered-top apparatus and a broom.
The ceiling exploded and several ropes extended from the roof. Black-suited individuals slid down the ropes and surrounded the white-bearded god and centurion. Suddenly, a door on the far end of the room exploded and a blinding white light pierced the room. A shadowy figure stood at the center of the light. His shirt was brown, sleeve-less and had a message imprinted on it, ‘Chewie is my co-pilot’. The scene erupted in motion. The shadow moved with incredible speed flipped through the air and landed on top of the centurion. The centurion spun and extended its weapons. Bodies flew everywhere. The combatants were no match for this trio.
The white haired god grabbed two black-suited warriors and ran through a wall. The opening revealed a bar. The bundle of bodies crashed into the drunk blonde man. Around Cavil’s skeevy mouth formed a smile. Kara raised the pipe high over her head and screamed, “Now that’s what I call a frakkin party!!”
Nicely done on both your posts FT; they both made me laugh. I especially like Tigh on the game show, and ending it with a quote from “Apocalypse Now.”
Hang on travelers…we are back in business
The magical pants that the Wizard gave to the young woodsmith’s apprentice. Suddenly, the codpiece began to glow and wiggle like Menudo on amphetamines
Weariness weighed down on his chest. Even as the usual whirring of drills and banging of hammers filled the air the mood on the flight deck was somber. The hope of Earth in an instant wiped away, a radioactive hunk of rock…the thing they all had lived for so long, gone.
Wizard breathed in deep and rubbed the crown of his nose leaving a smear of grease. The wrench felt heavier in this brave new world. What was the point of working on the Viper? What was the point of waking up in the morning? Without Earth as a dream, a goal, why even put on his flight suit? Tomorrow was meaningless, the future, nothing.
From behind him somewhere a chipper voice called out, “Gray, hey man, need a hand?” It was Fernando. Even given his mood Gray found himself with a half-cocked smile on his face. Fernando was new to the deck and contained what appeared to be limitless enthusiasm. He had studied long and hard to achieve his apprenticeship with Chief Woods and Petty Officer Smith, he wasn’t going to let a petty thing like the hopes of humanity being dashed going to get him down.
“Pass me that spanner, runt” Gray said not moving his eyes from the underbelly of the Viper. Apprentices were referred to as runts, a time old tradition in the forces. “Sure thing!” Fernando retorted, bounding off. “To be 14 again,” Gray thought ruefully. He couldn’t help but notice that the deck hands were getting younger. New Caprica had decimated the numbers of the deck gang. There seemed to be an inverse proportion to the number of regular civilians and soliders to skilled engineers that disappeared without a trace. After the escape from New Caprica and things started getting back to normal it soon became clear there was issue…there were jobs on the deck that couldn’t be done because no one knew how to do them. The apprenticeship program was initiated to help fill the void. Even Chief…wait, Galen, not the Chief. That was still strange. Gray glanced across the deck to see Tyrol instructing a group teenagers on welding techniques and basic avionics.
Gray’s reverie was broken by the sudden reappearance of Fernando holding the out the spanner, still smiling. “Runt, is there a problem with your deck suit? Why are you in your civies?” Suddenly for the first time Fernando’s smile wavered slightly. Gray turned his head to meet his eyes, “What’s wrong runt?”[/SIZE]
Fernando closed his eyes and breathed deep. “There are none left.”
“What do you mean there are none left? No deck suits?”
“None left.” At the corner of his eyes tears started to well up. “After all my work, all my study I finally made it to the deck…and they have no suits left.”
Gray understood. The deck suits were the right of passage, the badge of honor for the runts…the reward and symbol of their apprenticeship. To wear a deck suit meant you had made it, you were chosen. Gray breathed in deep, rolled out from under the Viper and stood up. “Hold on,” he said standing up and wiping off his hands, “I’ll be right back.” Gray strode over to Galen and stood at the periphery waiting for a moment to present itself.
Galen looked up at Gray furrowing his brow. “What’s up Wizard?”
“Chief, you got a second?”
One of the runts looked up at Gray surprised, “Sir, he’s no longer the…” Gray’s glare at the runt cut off the statement midair.
“Sure Wizard. Guys, you know what to do. Buddy up and practice the technique on whatever scrap you can get your hands on.” Tyrol left the group behind and he and Gray walked over to a quiet area, “What’s up?”
Gray looked at Tyrol, “First off, how are you doing?”
Tyrol began to say something, stopped and took a moment. “It’s hard, man. I’m so confused.
Sometimes I am so sure of who I am…then I remember that I am…”
“You are Chief Galen Tyrol,” Gray said sternly. “A member of this crew and my friend.”
Tyrol’s eyes went wide. He nodded to himself and put his hand on Gray’s shoulder. “Thank you.” He looked up and smiled. “Thank you.”
“Anytime runt.” They both laughed. “So, I had a favor…”
“Anything, anything…what do you need?”
“It’s a big favor.”
“What is it?”
“Cally’s deck suit.”
Tyrol breathed in quickly. “Wait. What?" He looked up confused. "Why?”
Gray tilted his head towards Fernando. “The runt needs it, and he deserves it. It isn’t doing any good hanging in her locker and as long as it isn’t in use you are going to think about it hanging in there. You need to let it go.”
Tyrol took a moment as his hand fell back to his side. He closed his eyes considered himself rubbing the back of his head. He looked back to Gray and slowly nodded.
“Ok. You are right. The kid needs it and it isn’t doing any good just hanging there.” Tyrol swallowed, and moving with a speed to indicate if he didn’t perform this act immediately he would change his mind he walked over to the lockers reached for Cally’s locker. Momentarily his hand paused before the latch…but quickly as if it were hot he pulled it open not looking at the pictures and artifacts taped to the door. Pulling the deck suit out a little too fast he snapped the emergency light stick that hung from the belt, breaking it.
“Here you go” Tyrol said as the glowing substance spread. Gray knew that if he didn’t accept the suit immediately the moment could be lost. He took it with reverence and said, “Thanks Galen.”
“Don’t mention it” Tyrol responded. Without a further word he crossed the deck back to his runts.
Gray looked over to his Viper where Fernando stood. Having watched the entire exchange his eyes showed he understood what had just happened and what it meant. As Gray turned and began walking towards him the smile on Fernando’s face returned and he began bouncing as if he had taken an entire pack of stims.
Gray stood before him and looked Fernando in the eyes. “You deserve this Fernando” and handed him the suit. “I’m sorry it might be a little too big.”
“That doesn’t matter…I’ll cuff the sleeves and roll up the pant legs. I’ll grow into it.”
“Ok runt, if there is nothing else.”
“No sir!” Fernando exclaimed as he ran off embracing the deck suit to his chest.
Gray surveyed the flight deck once more. There was still a pallor that hung over the whirring and bangs of the deck, but somehow things seemed somehow different. Perhaps he let the hope of a boy who felt there would be time to grow into an oversized deck suit sway him, or maybe it was something else. He shook his head and rolled back underneath the Viper recommencing his work and letting himself for the first time think about tomorrow.
It lives! It lives!
Yay!! I was thinking about this thread when Em created a new three word game. Awesome Solai! When I get a chance I’ll add an addition.