>>The odor
>>was still there, but in a far less pungent form.
MIKE: Perkins Amazing Stench Polymorph once again saves the day!
TOM: Hey! Isn't pungent a vocab word? Is he allowed to use vocab words in this?
>>He was overjoyed,
TOM: Yes, but was he "overjoyed!"?
>>and he was about to make his way toward the elevator
CROW: Which he had been standing right next to before the gas appeared and he started to faint all over the room.
>>when he
>>realized he couldn't move an inch. He tried harder and harder,
TOM: Must. Control. Gramerflame of Death...
>>but
>>his efforts only served to wear him out.
MIKE: Something tells me that someone got a critical failure when they were rolling this guy's Constitution stats.
CROW: And Dexterity.
TOM: Intelligence...
>>Suddenly everything around him began to ripple,
BOTS: <Wayne and Garth> Doide-doide-doide-doide
>>as if he were caught
>>in a transparent flame. The room started spinning around him, making
>>him very dizzy, and he felt as if he were about to collapse at any
>>moment.
CROW: Collapse and die from the extreme dizziness that the dizziness was causing to him, the dizzy one.
TOM: Of all the plot elements that were continued, why did it have to be smells and nausea?
MIKE: Well, it fits with the theme of the story if nothing else.
>>At the same time, everything became brighter and brighter
CROW: Except the hero.
MIKE: Crow...
>>around him, and within seconds, the light became so unbearable, he
>>thought that if he kept his eyes open any longer, he would be
>>blinded by it.
MIKE: Mind you, he also thought that alien princesses wanted him to save their distant galaxy from destruction by the evil Notveryniceiens, so take this all with a grain of salt.
TOM: I'm taking this entire story with a grain of salt.
CROW: Cyanide tablet for me, please.
>>He thought glumly to himself, So this is what people see when they
>>die.
CROW: What, alien corpses and yellow mists? Did I miss this episode of "Unsolved Mysteries"?
MIKE: So god is really just a dead Rockoid kept at the bottom of a dingy shack in the middle of a desert surrounded by the shattered remains of undefined objects that may or may not be broken.
CROW: I am over to the Dark Side so fast on this one.
>>At that moment, relief was brought to his eyes
TOM: Plop plop, fizz fizz, oh what a relief it is.
MIKE: This relief is being given out as a 30 day Shareware package. If you wish to have continuing relief, please send a check or money order of five dollars to the following address and receive your relief upgrade package.
>>(if it could even be
>>called that)
TOM: If what could be called that? His eyes?
MIKE: Well, singular 'it', so I guess he only has one of them now.
CROW: The Mutating Oil is working in reverse I see. Guess this means we're not getting the teleporting powers back.
TOM: But wait! Is this eye open or closed? We must know for the rest of the story to make sense!
>>as the room was suddenly
TOM: And without warning.
>>engulfed in blackness.
TOM: Ah. Closed then. Thank you, story.
>>He first believed that the light had finally succeeded in blinding him,
>>but he quickly realized that every element of the room, from walls
>>to ceiling, and the contents within,
CROW: Yes, I think that would include everything in the room.
MIKE: Shattered glass, alien bodies, klutzy hero, strange blinking lights, unopened junk mail, Amelia Airheart's plane, a box filled with limited edition Bennie Babies...
>>had somehow absorbed the
>>incredible blackness in which he was now immersed.
TOM: But... If they absorbed the darkness... wouldn't there be no dark left?
MIKE: Wait, it just says that they're absorbing the blackness. Maybe he's immersed in a really dark beige pink.
>>He tried feeling around him for the wall.
CROW: Awww, isn't that sweet of him?
MIKE: And right after he helped the floor across the street. He's such a swell guy.
>>When the room had grown
>>dark,
TOM: Oh, that's not a good thing. The government is very strict about the penalties of growing dark without a license.
MIKE: And for good reason. Are you aware of the massive flood of darkness related narcotics that even now are being introduced into our inner cities? Young children who don't know any better are being suckered into this grayness, never to know the true joys of greens and blues.
CROW: Plus we all know that darkness is just a gateway into the more dangerous shades.
>>he felt he had been just inches from it.
CROW: But then again, he also felt that video games about Marvin the Magical Magma was a really great hit around the world despite the fact that the game only sold three copies, and two of those was from a grandmother who misread "Magma" as "Martian".
TOM: And just how can you have a feeling about your physical location anyway? Wouldn't that be a thought and not an emotion?
MIKE: Just let it be, Servo.
>>But he couldn't feel a thing.
CROW: Aside from the massive internal bleeding from when he stumbled in the elevator and fractured five of his ribs.
>>And all of a sudden
TOM: And without warning.
MIKE: Will you stop that?
TOM: I will when he does.
>>it was as if the ground had disappeared out from
>>under him.
TOM: Well, let's see. First he was standing on something, the ground let's say, and now he's standing on nothing. It seems like you could say 'it was as if'.
CROW: There is just something about that phrase that sets my beak on end. I don't know what it is though.
MIKE: It's complete lack of meaning, uselessness, inanity, the fact that it's an affront to every single English teacher with an ounce of talent in their souls?
CROW: Well, that too.
>>And before he had a chance to think,
CROW: Meaning anywhere from a millisecond to several hours.
MIKE: Crow, this is your last warning. Be nice.
>>he had begun to
>>fall. The sensation was gentle at first,
TOM: Gentle, soothing, as calm as a new spring's rain. Come and savor the new sensations of our new fragrance, Fatal Plummet to Your Doom.
MIKE: Brought to you by Calvin Kline.
>>not much different from a
>>parachute jump once the chute had expanded.
MIKE: The gentle rolling breezes, the thrill of the wide world laid about before you.
CROW: The distant wail of anti-aircraft weaponry, the shear terror of being attacked by passing flocks of wild geese.
TOM: That tender moment when you first hear the restraining straps rip out, the gentle sliding from the parachute's support.
>>Gentle, rolling, safe,
>>knowing he'd be on the ground and upright in a few moments.
MIKE: Ready to face the armed squadrons of Iraqi soldiers as landed.
CROW: Ready to fight for life and limb as he attempted to pull himself free from the ropes and straps.
TOM: Ready to hear the mocking laughter of the other soldiers as he tripped and got himself hopelessly entangled in the chute.
>>And sure enough, the manner in which he swayed back and forth seemed
>>so reminiscent of those near forgotten parachute jumps back in the
>>Middle East.
MIKE: Aside from the heat, the guns, the danger.
CROW: Aside from the fact that someone who tripped over his own shadow would never be allowed within 50 miles of a war-zone.
>>So, gentle and swaying, so comfortable.
TOM: Not the words I'd chose for dropping into enemy territory, but hey, whatever you want, author.
MIKE: Ah, Perkins knows that no soldier would ever fire at him. They'd be too busy laughing at his clumsy, inane, yet strangely hilarious antics.
CROW: Missa name is Jar-Jar Perkins!
>>And then the pace of his fall began to increase rapidly, and he
>>seemed to be pulled straight down, faster and faster.
TOM: One faster does imply that the rate of speed is increasing. Is a second faster really what is needed here? All it's doing is increasing the length of the story, and increasing the amount of precious seconds that are being lost to us forever.
CROW: Apparently Perkins is still unfamiliar with the strange and exotic force known as 'gravity' and the mysterious concept of 'acceleration'.
>>Perkins was so startled he barely had time to think where he might
>>end up.
CROW: If it's Oz, I am killing you, author, you realize this.
MIKE: Oh, don't worry, he's going to end up in the alien war-zone. He'll be a small greasy smear before he even has time to be bawled over by the first light breeze.
>>Just for a fleeting moment, he imagined himself splattered
>>about a thick concrete ground, his corpse engulfed with blood and...
CROW: Hey! This story might actually get good after all.
TOM: And? And what? Come on, the most interesting, involving, most anticipated imagery of the story and you leave us hanging? For shame!
>>But he just kept falling on and on,
CROW: Like this story.
>>without end,
CROW: Like this story.
>>without a feeling
CROW: Like this story.
>>of approaching solid ground, not knowing if he was ever going to
>>land.
MIKE: Or whether this land was a leader, or how far down it went, or whether the land was inhabited by warm-blooded assassin snakes of death which may, or may not, exist, we're not sure.
>>He finally got the courage to look down after a few minutes, and he
>>was shocked to see the face of that gorgeous alien woman.
TOM: What a way to make a first-impression. Falling out of the sky onto the head of the alien chick you love; breaking her neck, or concurrent organ; and killing her before you even have time to see if your physically compatible.
MIKE: Somehow, I think that in this story, the fact that they come from separate ends of the galaxy with totally different evolutionary backgrounds will in no way prevent them from indulging in a little hanky-panky.
CROW: Only if he beats out Captain Kirk to the, er, punch.
>>She had a
>>look of deep anguish on her face.
MIKE: <Alien woman> Oh please tell me this thing that's falling towards me isn't the brave and virile warrior foreseen by prophecy to destroy our ancient evil in under 200 pages, on his own, and in a mind-numbingly simple way despite the fact that we've been fighting it for thousands of years and our best minds have never been able to come up with anything.
CROW: <same> I have to sleep with that? Major ick!
>>And he felt her anguish....
CROW: <Clinton> I feel your anguish. And such a fine anguish it is too.
TOM: <Slap!>
>>Just then, the image of the woman was replaced by the eye of what
>>appeared to be a gigantic tornado.
TOM: Eye of a tornado? Someone hasn't been watching their Weather Channel enough I think.
CROW: Attention: this is your convoluted and confused dream sequence speaking. We are currently having technical difficulties, please stand by. We will return you to your pain-filled antennaed broad shortly. Thank you for being a customer of Convoluted and Confused Dream Sequences Inc. Have a nice day.
>>It was silver, spinning around at
>>a speed that Perkins surmised, probably correctly,
>>was 400 miles per hour.
CROW: But with Perkins, you'd be better off believing that it was 800 and hedging your bets.
TOM: I was never aware that calculating the airspeed of strange silver tornadoes was a vital task in the armed forces.
MIKE: Oh, you'd be surprised how often it's needed. Why, in the Battle of the Bad Special Effects Crew in 1985, that skill was credited with turning the tide, allowing the soldiers to successfully use their CGI BFG against the swarms of Titanic passengers.
>>It was worse than any tornado he had seen in the Midwest, or
>>anywhere else in the world.
CROW: It was almost as bad as that one that had wound up dropping a house on his head, but not quite.
TOM: Well, if it's worse then any he's seen anywhere in the world, then I would assume that it would also be worse then any he's seen in the Midwest.
MIKE: I don't know, I have gotten the distinct impression that some of those states belong to a different planet.
CROW: You're from Wisconsin, Mike. You have no right to talk.
TOM: And let the emails come forth!
>>And the tornado was slowly drawing him
>>closer and closer, faster and faster.
CROW: Meanwhile, Crow was getting border and border.
TOM: Tom was getting nitpickier and nitpickier.
MIKE: Mike was getting confused-er and confused-er.
CROW: No change there then.
MIKE: Hey!