Table of contents:

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22

(some names have been changed to protect me from the vindictive)

Chapter 1

My band of Viking explorers set out to prove that there could have been contacts and influences between the cultures of the Irish and Hokies, across the sea, so earlier last month, I journeyed to Chicago and built a vessel made of goatskins and framed with the bones of badgers and gophers.
We set sail on Lake Michigan, heading north, but the wildcats we brought along from the plains for company jumped ship and tried to swim to shore. We soon lost sight of them.

After many days, we put in to shore on Lake Erie and ventured southeast towards the mountains only to discover the ruins of what may have been a great civilization which apparently worshipped a large limestone puma. The only remaining inhabitant was a very old man with thick black glasses who kept cackling: “One more win...heh heh heh...just one more”
We retraced our steps and continued sailing up Lake Erie, and portaged on to Lake Ontario, sailing to Oswego and following the Oswego river towards the Erie Canal, past territory controlled by a strange people who painted themselves Orange, and lived in a strange white domed dwelling

Throughout our journey, the farther east we travelled, the more the wind continued to increase. Reaching the Hudson, we sailed south, now well within the territoy known as Big East

At the mouth of the Hudson we encountered a people known as Yanquis, a fearsome people. When we tried to exchange footballs with them, they seemed puzzled and suddenly brought out wooden clubs and began swatting them with great fury. This was quickly halted by one of their leaders, whom they called Tor-Re, and he presented us with small white spheres. We also gave them Runzas and they gave us funny mettalic objects they called subway tokens.

After a few days, we sailed south and the continued high wind, now coming from the south forced us far off course to the east.



After many days, we landed on a far off coast where we were
greated by a people who spoke a strange language. They
suddenly recognized the language of the German member of our
party and bent and submitted to us and offered us snails and
quiche and something called Belgium. The German offered to
stay behind with these people and so we set off again.

For many days we had favorable winds heading west-southwest
until we reached the tip of a peninsula where we were engulfed
by a hurricane. This hurricane carried us northward along the
peninsula into the midst of a proud but demoralized people
known as Seminoles, who were also reeling from this hurricane.
We shared our meager provisions with these people and
continued north, but now began to face that strange powerful
wind in our face again, now coming from the north.

Not far from the land of the Seminoles was another settlement of
people who would alternate between wearing and tossing
strange headdresses and had a strange relationship with the
goats they were herding. They seemed like zombies and would
come up to us and mutter something that sounded like
"Aubrune?"

As we continued north, we entered a territory known as the
Carolinas, whose people offered us pork but with a strange
golden sauce that reeked of mustard. And the wind grew even
stronger. We knew we were near the end of our voyage and
approaching the land of the Hokie

..........................

At this same time, on the other side of the continent, the lone B-2
bomber was on schedule and on course for Redding,
Washington, having taken off from its air base in Germany
hours earlier and refueled en route several times, the last being somewhere over the Wasatch Range east of Salt Lake City.

Lt. Col Trent Ruffwood smiled to himself as he sat in his cockpit
seat. Ahhhh.......Then suddenly he had to open the window for
a few seconds, and put on his Oxygen mask. Whew. .....

His thoughts quickly returned to the mission. He couldn't
believe that the Pentagon and Justice Dept had finally actually approved
Operation Broken Windows. Deep down, Ruffwood knew who to
blame for all of this. But first things first. Gates, then bin Laden,
and then, finally.....they could take care of Rooney.

Chapter 2

In the heart of the city, at the RSFC Aggie Superhero Fortress of Suckitude, Egg Man and Spill Man exchanged concerned looks, then reconsidered and returned their own concerned looks back to each other. It was never easy delivering bad news to the Czar and they were trying anything to avoid it.

Suddenly the aroma of refried beans and chiles and cheese and tortillas permeated the control center. Egg Man and Spill Man turned and were once again surprised by the unexpected arrival of the masked wonder: El Goob

“I assume that you got my latest postcard?” Egg Man asked trying to fix his concerned look.

“Cute”, was all El Goob replied (wondering why Egg Man would be sending him a postcard and why he and Spill Man were covering their faces)

El Goob continued: “As you know, there is a foul and strong wind from the east that threatens to engulf us.”
Aggies: “Uh huh”

El Goob: “The Czar cannot be seen to be involved, at least visibly seen or even invisibly seen

Aggies: “Uh huh”

El Goob: “Oregon is the best team in the country”

Aggies: “Uh huh....what?”

El Goob: “Okay, just checking if you were paying attention. Now, have you summoned any other Aggie Super Heroes?”

“Yes, the ‘Pink Pony’ was contacted at work in his secret identity, mild mannered ex navy Seal Ron Jogers.” answered Egg Man “He be here soon, depending on Atlanta traffic.”

“Cute. Then, activate the AGGIE SCREEN” commanded El Goob.
Immediately, dozens of huge vacuum tubes began to hum and whine, and a few even began to cry. Slowly, the screen began to light up

........................

Caught in another traffic jam on I-5 north of downtown Seattle, Willie Dilbanks was thinking of BBQ. He had decided to have lunch at the only decent BBQ place anywhere north and west of Amarillo, in Woodenville, just west of Redmond.
After hours, he reached the Woodenville exit and it was then, after coming off of the exit ramp, and pulling into the parking lot, that he noticed two strange things.
First, a dark object far off in the eastern sky. Second, someone had stolen his gascap.

Chapter 3

Vikings? On American soil?
The view on the AGGIE SCREEN was unmistakable! Egg Man and Spill Man were dumbfounded beyond the point of stuttering slack-jawed stupification.
And what in the heck were Vikings doing in Virginia?
A chill filled the room. Somewhere, a door had opened.

The Pink Pony quickly recovered at once after noticing the glares and still clutching his trademark $20 bill in his right hand, grabbed the doorknob and closed the door with his left. Still, he felt good: He had beaten the traffic and his mojo was rising.

“Hey” he said
“Hey” was the groups reply, which gave El Goob pause for thought, (Dang, we RSFC Aggie Superheroes have got to get a more sophisticated sign/countersign system)

“Thank goodness you’ve finally arrived, Pink Pony.” whispered Egg Man
“Indeed” echoed Spill Man, “Quick, look at the AGGIE SCREEN”

The Pink Pony turned and looked. ODL, he thought, where are the rsfckn strippers?!?!?

“I see the shock on your face, PP, and the puzzlement. You are wondering why a group of viking explorers have journeyed to Virginia”

The Pink Pony slowly turned to face the source of this comment, El Goob.
“Uhh,....Yeah,... right, that’s exactly what I was thinking”.

El Goob continued: “We’ve been monitoring their movements for several weeks now. This could be a simple, harmless archeological expedition as advertised, or they could be attempting to reintroduce a newer, deadlier strain of ABBA into the country. You may recall that we haven’t fully recovered from the original strain which struck back in the late 70s.”

“Dood!”

“Hey, is that a burrito in your pocket?...or are you thinkin about strippers again? Never mind, I must report back to the Czar and you 3 must go to Virginia and shadow these explorers. Now, turn off...the AGGIE SCREEN!”
El Goob turned and issued another command: “Hi-Yo, Kato, to the Pickup mobile.”

El Goob’s words and sudden egress left the remaining Aggies alone together in their solitude. The Fortress of Suckitude was even suckier than usual.

.............

Lt Col Trent Ruffwood woke with a start. He had fallen asleep and now found himself approaching the coast of northern China. He turned and glared at his co-pilot. “Idot sockpuppet”, he thought, “Letting me fall asleep”. Still he kind of admired the way his co-pilot sockpuppet must have coordinated several mid-air refuelings to have gotten the B2 aircraft across the Pacific. Okay, good job, Hoover.
His mind began racing: Redding...Beijing....hmmmmmmmm....

..........

Somewhere in Kansas, at a meeting of NICT (Not Included in Cool Threads) a motion was made to adjoirn as there was no old business and no new business.
It was seconded and passed.

..............

Back in the cockpit of the B2, Ruffwood had made his decision

Chapter 4

Pausing on his way round the corner to the parking area, Harry paused and glanced back towards the pool.
“Hey Hef!, thanks again. Next time you come to Jackson, the catfish is on me”.
“That sounds great, and then we can try out that new telescope you just got” yelled back Hef.
Harry waved and grinned as he smiled and walked off. It was’t well known among astronomy lovers that Playboy Mansion West had a great observatory, and he intended to keep it that way. That, and the food here was pretty good, too. Hef knew how to feed his friends.

Reaching his truck, Harry made the drive to LAX, where he caught a United flight to Denver for a connection to Jackson. As he was savoring the complimentary congac in his first class seat, the flight attendent offered him a selection of DVDs to watch, suggesting that he would find “’Titanic’ especially enjoyable”.

“Good evening Mr. Wellboss”, came the usual greeting after he had inserted the disk.

“WTF?” Harry had thought after watching the presentation. Walking through the terminal at Denver, he was still thinking the same thing and now, instead of heading for his connection to Jackson, he was flying to Tulsa in a private jet, for a meeting at the headquarters of NEMSA, the National Environmental Meteorological Security Agency.
Harry had long known of the existance of NEMSA, but he never dreamed he would actually ever meet the “Weather Dudes”, as they were known to those insiders in the intel community.

--------------
“Ten minutes to target”, Ruffwood heard on the intercom from his weapons sockpuppet, Sgt Snorky. ECM sockpuppet Lt. Merrygrath added: “No bogies, no threats either, Col ‘I like it’ Ruffwood”.
“No Playoffs, either” chimed in Lt. Ron Jussell, the mission payload specialist

“Knock it off, Jussell and tend to your mission”, ordered Ruffwood. He had no more patience for humor, as he had been trying to get the secure channel, but those basturds at HQ must have blocked all the premium channels, again. “Damb”, he thought, “I should have stayed with cable”.

--------------
Boyd Kriss was driving home in eastern Kansas from the latest NICT meeting when he noticed a strange forlorn looking figure along the road. Boyd never picked up hitchhikers, but something told him to do so in this case.

“I am known as Hawkeye” announced the robed cloaked hooded figure as he climbed into the cab, “but some call me Mark. How much?”
“What?”
“How much to drive me to Virginia?”
“Who are You?”
“I told you”
“You want me to drive you to Virginia?”
“Indeed”
“ODL”
“Why yes, I’m on a mission from God”
“What?”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Boyd Kriss”
“Well, Boyd Kriss, How much?”
“You’re not one of those Vulcans with pointy ears hidden under that hood, are you?”
“No, I’m not Vulcan, I’m Lutheran”.
“ODL”
“Indeed”
Kriss thought quickly. He had never been included in a cool thread, (although that one dude had mistakenly flamed him). This was his chance to escape NICT once and for all. He made his decision.
“Do you like junk food and can you pay for the gas?”
Hawkeye smiled for the first time.
“Indeed. Now on to Virginia, and lets be hasty about it.”

Chapter 5

The GPS receiver gave us coordinates which confirmed that we were indeed in the land of the Hokies along US 501 north of Roxboro, NC.
But all the signs we came across were confusing: South Boston, then Kentuck, then Pittsylvania. Hopelessly lost, we backtracked and tried a different route, only to come to a startling discovery. We were being followed. Our Indian guide, Jivay Dances With Wolverines confirmed this with a grunted response: “Aggie tracks”. Jivay had spent time in Texas, raiding, and knew Aggies. Well, he didn’t know any personally, but he had taken an Aggie scalp or two in his time.

We regrouped back at our basecamp in Roxboro only to discover that our Sherpas had grown weary of the constant wind and decided to fly back to Nepal. Jivay suggested an easterly approach and after several days, we found ourselves in Virginia Beach, a land previously heard of only through legends of a sorceress called Beth al Liz. As if this wasn’t worrisome enough, we continued to be shadowed by the elusive Aggies, whose numbers Jivay guessed were between 2-23. Aggies were clever. They would often disguise their numbers by carrying each other piggyback or staggering about as if drunken. But their signs were unmistakable. Each morning we could come across yet another scaled down bonfire.

And suddenly, there she was, Beth al Liz, wearing only........
(Editor’s note: C Sharp)
We turned, annoyed, and wondered why our editor/water bearer, a young man named Gunga Nik, who had followed us since we arrived at his impoverished camp in Florida, had suddenly pulled out his Tuba and played a solitary tone and seemed to be pointing at something.

----------------

High above, on the ridge, Egg Man, Spill Man, and the Pink Pony couldn’t believe what they were seeing and were fighting over the binoculars as if they were Curly, Moe, and Larry, trying to catch a glimpse of the elusive sorceress, when they heard the tone and first caught the glint off of a Tuba

------------------------

Hawkeye was not pleased by the irony. A flat tire. How could this happen yet again? and Now of all times? Here, in Indiana. And as if this weren’t bad enough, this idot Boyd Kriss could do nothing but babble on and on about purple pride and how he was so glad to finally be included, yadda yadda, and other such mundane things.

Kneeling beside the flat, Boyd asked for the crowbar. Hawkeye gripped it tightly and raised it above the back of Boyd’s head

---------------------

Ruffwood flipped the switch of the Autopilot to off after hearing: “Feet dry” from nav officer sockpuppet Etienne. Then Etienne added: “Merci, Dr. Scholl’s powder”
Ruffwood sighed and keyed his com: “Etienne, are we now over Chinese territory?”
“Oui, mon Kerlanel....(you’re father was a hamster and you’re mother smelled of elderberries)”
“What was that last part, Etiene?”
“Nothing, mon Kerlanel, I merely added that your’re flying as a master and you’d rather swelled us older buddies, with pride (now shut up or I shall taunt you again)”

Ruffwood hated flying with a mixed NATO crew, esepecially when it included foreigners.

----------------------------------

Harry tipped the cabbie a healthy sum, it had been hard to find anyone who was willing to drive hime from the Tulsa airport all the way out to the NEMSA compound. After passing through the tightest security he had ever seen, he entered the inner sanctum of NEMSA, which to Harry, looked awfully alot like the bridge of the Enterprise. In fact, it now dawned on Harry that the uniforms everyone wore here also looked like those on Star Trek. Who were these weatherdudes?

----------------------------
Boyd looked up and saw the crowbar poised above his head.
“You okay, man?” he asked
“This crowbar, how long have you had it?”
“I dunno, man, it came with the car”
“It is an object of tremendous power, known as the Fetchstick of Bovine Armageddon. Those who know how to use it’s power can control the fates.”
“You mean its kinda like the Maltese Falcon?”
“No, that was a stupid movie, and Casablanca was much better, anyway. Thank Odin we have it and not the evil ones”.
“Who are the evil ones?”
Hawkeye fixed an icy glare on Boyd Kriss, thinking: “yep, this is the guy who beat me out for newbie of the year in ‘98, AND HE STILL SOUNDS LIKE A RSFCKN NEWBIE!!”
“You will know soon enough, newbie”
Boyd looked back at Hawkeye thinking: “This guy is nuts, he looks like Obi-Wan-Kenobi and thinks I’m that lifeguard from Baywatch, and he’s still pissed that I got the ‘98 Rookie of the Year Rutsie over him. Could things get any worse?”

As the two stared at each other, a car appeared down the road and slowed down, coming to a halt beside the pair. The window rolled down and from within, they heard a voice:
“Hi, You guys need a ride? This seems like a good place to jump in.”

------------------
Jon Fulbright entered the chatroom at the usual time and began scanning the various threads. Seeing one that interested him, he clicked on it and began reading. What happened to Chapter 4? Who was this Jivay? Damn, why no gifs of Beth al Liz. Why am I wasting my time on this?

Then he gasped, or maybe he shreiked. Somehow, as he was reading this, his thoughts were appearing in the story as he was reading it. Must log out before....before....I think about my comfortable panties and bra....under my....Shiii....

He woke up in a sweat.
Whew, it had only been a dream, like that one he had about whitewater canoing with Burt Reynolds and Ned Beatty. He glanced around quickly to see if any of his co-workers had noticed.
“Damb”, he thought, “I’ve gotta start posting under a different name.”
--------------------
Willie Dylbanks headed back to work, still wondering what had happened to his missing gas cap and the Mariners. No matter. He suddenly had this inexplicable unfathomable desire to upgrade his knife collection, something that was forged, not stamped.

--------------------
The driver of the car who picked up Boyd and Hawkeye in Indiana introduced himself:
“Hi, I’m Fat Moley, you two are so precious.”
Boyd and Hawkeye exchanged concerned glances

Chapter 6

Ruffwood eased into a dive.
They had landed a half hour ago just outside of Beijing and everyone in the crew wanted a drink before continuing, so they ran on ahead to the Pink Pagoda, a few hundered meters from where they had taxied to a stop.

After slipping through the door, Ruffwood scrutinized the interior of the dive. His crew had gravitated to the old man running a 3-card monty scam. Idots, he thought, they might as well bet on Nebraska. He sidled over to the bar and ordered a Singapore Sling, strait. He downed it in seconds and ordered another and then told the barkeep to leave the bottle. He turned, hearing the cheering, to see his crew eagerly wagering on the upcoming cat-juggling that was about to commence. All, except for payload specialist Jussell, who had joined him at the bar.

“What’s your story, Jussell?, What’s our payload?” growled Ruffwood, growing impatient at the twists in the plot.
“You’ll know when the time is right.” Ron Jussell squared his cheesy jaw at the Air Force Colonel.

“I don’t like the idea of being a taxi driver for special-ops when I don’t know what the op is. I was given orders for a mission and alternative mission and then you come along and commandeer my craft and crew in mid flight. I donut like that one bit.”

“Like the CIA and MI-5 give a rsfck what you like. This is bigger than anything you can imagine”.

“Am I supposed to be impressed by some pissant mission payload specialist throwing out names or something?”

“No, Colonel, but before I was a pissant payload mission specialist for the Air Force, I was a gardener who was an ex-Green Beret, and before that, a chef who was an ex-Navy Seal, and before that, an interior decorator who was ex-SAS.” Jussell didn’t feel the need to throw in that he was THE expert in winter warfare snowmobile commando tactics. In fact, there were only two other people on earth who knew as much about any form of snowmobile warfare. Jussell knew snowmobiles the way other people knew how to tie their loafers.

“Yeah, well, I was a wrestler in high school, and played fullback even though I weighed 135 pounds”

“Look, Colonel, I don’t like my mission, but we don’t have a choice, and I can’t tell you the mission until you need to know, if we make it that far.”

“If we make it that far?” ODL, thought Ruffwood, Who was this cheesehead and what were his orders?.
-----------------------

Gunga Nik kept blowing his Tuba and pointing even after the first football struck him, followed quickly by a second and a third. Suddenly, the air seemed filled with footballs. A fifth football hit Gunga Nik in the groin and he finally went down, writhing in agony.
We took cover and tried to determine the source of this determined aerial attack. Jivay assured us that it couldn’t be the Aggies. Nor, were Hokies noted for such a method of attack.

--------------------

Hawkeye nudged Boyd Kriss in the backseat of the sedan and whispered.
“I know who this is and he is not who he says he is.”
“Huh?”
“Idot, he calls himself Fat Moley, but he is really an evil one known as Cofi. I belive he seeks the... Fetchstick”.
“You mean the crowbar?”
“Yes, yes, ODL, what do you think I meant”
“Well, excuse me, Mr. Spock”
-----------------
El Goob knew the Czar was really concerned.
The Czar hated playing the Canadian card, but he had no choice, so here he was, El Goob picking up the hotline to a secret location somewhere in Bermuda.
“Hello, is Glapman there?”

Alfred strode up to the figure lounging by the pool: “Excuse me, Master Jeff, its the Glap-phone, the Czar wishes to speak to Glapman. I’ve readied the Glapmobile.”
Billionaire Playboy Jeff Erson sighed, “What now?”

Chapter 7

Willie Dylbanks had his newly purchased forged steel cutlery packed safely away in a lead lined pouch in his carry-on as he boarded a United flight bound for Boston. Nothing was gonna stop him. He HAD to find Dr. Metzler. Metzler, a noted Harvard astronomologicast had disappeared a couple of years ago after reporting strange radio-telescope observations over a small portion of the sky above southwestern Virginia. Metzler knew something and someone had taken care to keep him quiet. Willie had never met Metzler, but was familiar with his work, especially Metzler’s single malt expertise. Willie knew all of this because he was not some mere ordinary web designer, but rather a secret operative of an organization known as: CU or Counterintelligence Underground. Dylbanks had been placed in Seattle to discreetly keep an eye on the evil empire, but recent events had caused his superiors to give him a different assignment. Find Metzler, and bring him in from the cold.

-----------

Harry left the Weatherdude compound frightened and confused. They had lost control of their own devices. A computer virus known now as Flash 41 Reverse Pass had rendered their systems beyond their control and had hacked into their master computer and taken it over. He needed to think this over and he needed BBQ or Catfish. Soon.


------------

The Pink Pony was the first to notice. He had spotted a regiment of elite Orangemen advancing, following their initial aerial onslaught. It was classic Napoleonic tactics. He signaled to Egg man and Spill man. The three Aggie heros began a series of covert movement and concealment tactics, edging closer to the action, when a solitary figure began materializing in front of them.

-------------

Our Indian guide, Jivay, first spotted the Orange clad figures in the distance, advancing, but not towards us, rather towards the west.
“See, they have Hokies on the run.” he muttered.
This was bad news. After coming all this way seeking the mighty Hokies, they would be even more elusive and harder to find.
We decided to regroup and party with Beth al Liz and her people for several days. The wind remained strong, but seemed directionless.

In the days that followed, reports came back to us that the Orangemen had won a great victory over the Hokies, but had not been able to find and destroy their leaders. Indeed, Hokie spokesmen remained defiant, claiming the loss was exagerated, and they had stayed at a Holiday INN Express last night.

-------------

Jussell slipped out of the Pink Pagoda and activated his wristwatch Glap cellphone

“Boy Cheesehead to Glapman, come in”

Glapman, flying the GlapJet over the western Atlantic at an altitude of 30,000 ft, 50 miles southeast of Cape Hatteras, keyed his mike: “Roger, Boy Cheesehead, Go ahead”

“WTF!, Glapman? Since when doesn’t Stanfraud Suck?”

“Easy, Boy Cheesehead, remember the mission. Do you have control of the B-2?”

“Of Course.” Jussell replied, “Ruffwood is a minor problem. Still, his sockpuppet crew is easy enough to control. And if they give me any problems, I’ll killfile em, as planned.”

“Good.” replied Glapman, “Now have the B-2 fly to the following grid coordinates:” and Glapman proceeded to rattle off the latitude and longitude.

“ODL!” replied Jussell, “They’ll shoot us down before we get there!”

“Trust me, Boy Cheesehead, ‘Flash 41 Reverse Pass’ has taken care of that.”

Chapter 8

Bin-Jush smiled. Inspite of his team being humiliated once again, he smiled.
His prayers to the Weaufx Gods had finally been answered. He had finally offered the appropriate combination of Rock and Chalk as a sacrafice. His team would have a new coach. Why he was in southern Ohio didn’t seem to matter at the moment (although he did seem to like this strange local Spaghetti Sauce known as Cincinnatti Chile). Now, if only he could hitch a ride and then find that dambed elusive magical fetchstick and bring it home to Lawrence. It would complement the magical Allen Fog nicely and bring a new era of dominateness to Kansas.
He looked up as the car appeared and suddenly slowed down and then stopped. A window rolled down.
“Hi, mind if you jump in here? My name’s Fat Moley, and these here are Hawkeye and Boyd Kris, who are also hitchin rides”
Bin-Jush smiled and headed for the door, then noticed a purple aura around Kris and paused until Hawkeye spoke: “Live long and prosper, friend”.

Bin-Jush studied Hawkeye. “This guy knows tires” he thought and something else, “the fetchstick is strong with him..... or maybe they had just stopped for burritos before picking me up?”.

------------------

The Glap Jet touched down at a remote secret airstrip just outside of Columbia, South Carolina shortly after 03:00. Glapman unloaded the Glap Golf Cart from the Glap Jet’s Glap cargo bay and sped off into the darkness.
He hit number 1 on the Glap Phone speed dial.
“Yes, master Jeff?”
“Alfred, are the goats ready?”
“Of course, master Jeff, they shipped out this afternoon.

------------
Meg Debkenna couldn’t believe her ears.
What is it with me and drinking too much vodka and then having em pierced, she was thinking....and then she heard it.....the message.
Sitting at her NSA (National Spartan Agency) console, she realized they finally had intercepted one of Glapman’s transmissions, the Canadian accent was unmistakable.
--------------
“Alfred, did you include the visor?”
“Indeed, master Jeff, and I even test tossed it, then dry-cleaned it and sterilized it”
“Excellant, well done Alfred”
“Master Jeff?”
“Yes, Alfred?”
“There’s only one part of the plan I don’t understand, sending a B-2 to Red China?”
“What better place to pick up Big Red Mojo?”
--------------
Meg scribbled furiously as she listened to the intercept: Goats, Visor, B-2, Big Red Mojo.....what did it all mean; she began to shiver. “I’ve got to notify the Czar”, she thought.

--------------
Hawkeye surveyed Bin-Jush.
After several minutes, Bin-Jush asked:
“Are you with the Census Bureau or something?”
“No, Bin-Jush”, Hawkeye whispered, “we have the Fetchstick that I perceive you seek, but our driver who called himself Fat Moley, is actually an evil one known as Cofi, did you not notice the sign of the shamrock?”
“That 4-leaf clover air-freshener hanging from the rear-view mirror?”
“Yes, it...”
“Hi, mind if I jump in here?”
It was Fat Moley....er, Cofi, who suddenly appeared in the backseat of the sedan.
“WTF? Who’s Driving?” yelled Bin-Jush
“Hi” replied Boyd Kriss from the front seat
“ARRRRGGGHHHHH” screamed Hawkeye and Bin-Jush in unison.
And then the Shamrock began to glow.

Chapter 9

Ruffwood fumed as he fingered his service revolver in the cockpit
(ODL!, there goes the PG rating).
“Who did this Jussell think he was, ordering his plane and his crew around like that.”
Three mid-air refuelings later, they were on final approach for.....

Harly Choequist looked up at the massive aircraft as it rolled to a stop at the remote secret airfield in Northern Jutland not far from the North Sea.
He had a cooler full of Tuberg to greet the crew with, and some vital information for Jussell.
“Step through here, please, we are still on guard for Hoof-and-Mouth, you know”, Choequist announced to the crew gesturing towards a field decontamination unit/shower/toilet/bidet/pest strip/strip club mobile trailer unit.
-------------

Willie Dylbanks was not happy. Not only had he been unable to locate Metzler, but there was still no word on his missing gascap, and the line at the newly opened Krispy Kreme in Seattle hadn’t gotten any shorter.
He donned his sweatervest and contacted Ted, via the mile high insecure link Bison Phone.

----------
Meg Debkenna was still giddy over her Glapman intercept coup when the latest conversation was picked up.
“ODL, its... Ted!” she whispered to herself.

Ted had disappeared at about the same time as Metzler and a connection between the two had always been suspected. It was widely believed that Ted was running his Puffsnetwork from various caves west of Denver, never staying in the same place for more than 24 hours at a time. He and his followers had inflicted all kinds of damage on Nebraska, the Big XII, and other major schools who had defied CU in the past, and was high on the NSA wanted list. (they wanted to use him against Meatchicken at cocktail parties)

-------------
“Ted, Dr. Metzler has completely vanished, not a trace, what now?”
“You FOOL, they have traced your sweatervest, killfile yourself with extreme predjudice”
“WTF?”
“You heard me, end of transmission”
Willie fingered through his codebook.(ODL!) “Killfile myself?”

The Yankees beat the Mariners the next day to win the series and Willie Dylbanks disappeared.

However, NSF soon began intercepting transmissions from somebody called Pokakelli in the Seattle area.

------------
Hawkeye pulled a Runza from his pocket and tossed it at the glowing shamrock, which immediatly shriveled and disappeared. The Runza grew cooler but remained warm.
-----------
At that same instant, Eggman began to swoon.
“What is it, Eggman?” yelled the Pink Pony.
“I feel a great disturbence in the Cabbage”, replied the shaken northern aggie.
“Gas?” asked Spillman.
“No...wait....wait...maybe...no,... aaahhh, yes...No, no, something much more sinister”
--------------------
Boyd Kris eyed the fallen Runza. “Uhh...You through with that, man?” he asked Hawkeye.
“Of course not.” and as Hawkeye reached out his hand, the Runza flew back into it.
“That was precious! Do you have a light saber, too?” asked Cofi
“Better, I’ve got a Swiss Army knife/phaser/tricorder/PDA wristwatch”
“OOOOOOHHHHH” the other 3 replied admiringly.
“Yeah, watch this” and he keyed in 60 and put the Runza on his wrist and tapped it. “That’s the microwave function”
“OOOOOHHHHH” they crooned again.
“But you owe me $4.95 for my glow in the dark Shamrock air freshener” whispered Cofi.

----------------
“I still feel a great disturbence in the cabbage” moaned Eggman, “and its coming from over that hill”

-----------
We had resumed our trek to the west seeking the elusive Hokies. After a couple of days, our Indian guide Jivay stopped and put his ear on the ground. After several minutes he picked it up and anounced: “Something big, coming this way. Take cover. After a couple of minutes we, too, could feel a rumbling. And then we saw it. A Giant Mutant Panther! But it ignored us, as it was intent on chasing after some poor unfortunate Hokies.
Our hearts sank. Were these the last of the Hokies or could we still find some others?

---------------
The Pink Pony was the first to see the mutant panther. “WAR EAGLE” he cried and morphed into his Power Aggie costume. Spillman quickly followed suit: “Gig Em!” and morphed into the Maroon Power Aggie. Eggman, still woozy, muttered: “Rock Chalk Jayh....no, I mean ‘Go Big Re...., no, “BOOMER SOO”...ahh rsfck it.” and ducked into a nearby phone booth, emerging minutes later as the Purple Power Aggie.
“What took you so long?” asked the other two aggies
“Well, while I was changing, the phone rang. I answered and you’ll never guess who was on the other end.”
“Dubya”? asked Spillman
“Pat Sullivan”? asked the Pink Pony
“Darryl Royal”? asked Spillman
“Bo Jackson”? asked the Pink Pony
“Chuck Long”? asked Hawkeye
“Marylin Manson”? asked Gunga Nik
“A female soccer player”? asked Hans Paulin
“A burrito”? asked El Goob
“My new bride”? asked Andy Mijrews
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, and no. Hey, who are you guys?” asked Eggman
“Never mind us, we were just hanging around between scenes and got caught up in the excitement of the moment.”, Hawkeye sheepishly replied.
“Okay. The call was from......”
His reply was drowned out by the meow of a giant mutant panther hovering over them.

Chapter 10

Harry arrived at Denver International and rented a car for the drive to Boulder.
“What’s a Mississipi boy doing in Big XII country?” he asked himself.

En route, he stopped off at an Aurora mall and bought a pair of Speedos, a speargun, a guitar, a sweatervest, and an inflatable raft. “Always be prepared”. He well remembered the words from his Army Corps of Engineers Ranger training.
-----------

The giant mutant panther continued to meow, until Power Aggie Eggman snarled at him. The panther snarled back!
Eggman, continuing to snarl, flung a power Aggie postcard at him. The mutant panther paused, then spotted some scarlet knights off to the northeast and ran off in pursuit.

“Eggman, who was the call from?”

Spillman was the the first to recover from the frightening panther ordeal and repeat the question.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Enough, Eggman, tell us.” the Pink Pony was growing angry.
“Do you know the one known as MIEK?”
“YES!!” came multiple responses
“It wasn’t him, it was an overseas call from someone claiming to be an Air Force officer in Denmark.

-------
Ruffwood continued to fume. His overseas phone connection had been dropped. He had run out of Danish Krona coins. Blasted NATO, issuing Euros ahead of the January 2002 start. Freaken French, he thought, just because, as he fingered through his pocket for a Danish krona or temporary Euro.
‘Step away from the phone, sir’! It was Jussell, shouldering a stinger pointed towards Ruffwood’s epalets.
Ruffwood held the krona inches from the coin slot.
“You feeling lucky, punk?” Ruffwood squinted and replied
“Go ahead, make my day” Now it was Jussell’s turn to squint and reply.
“Ahh, the power of cheese.” said Ruffwood
“What?”
Ruffwood motioned towards Choequist who had entered the room with a tray of Carlsbergs and some crackers and cheese.
Jussell turned for an instant towards Choequist. That’s all Ruffwood needed to drop the coin and dial.

------------
“Who’s our next caller, Roz?”
“Trent, all the way from Skagen, Denmark”
“This if Frasier Crane, Trent. What can I do for you?”
“Well, Frasier, I’m an Air Force Officer piloting a B-2 on a secret mission and I’ve got a madman wearing a cheesehead hat pointing a stinger missle at me in a secret NATO air base and my crew consists of a bunch of damb sockpuppets and....OMG!....buzzzzzzzz.....
“Okay, Roz, that was interesting, who’s the next caller?
“Well, Frasier, its Miek from Texas, again.”

-------------------

El Goob needed a burrito. He always needed a burrito before facing the Czar. Actually, he always needed a burrito. Period. And what was wrong with that?
He entered the inner chamber and genuflected before the imperious leader.
“Hey, stop doing that in my presence!” the Czar yelled, and then asked:
“Have you fed the flying monkeys?”
“Yes”.
“And oiled the battle drones?”
“Yes”
“And gassed up the imperial cruiser?”
“Yes”
“And polished the imperial remote control?”
“Yes”
“Excellant!. Now then, what’s the report on the progress of the Kon-Sliki?”
“Well,....Harry Wellboss is en route to Boulder; the Glap man is in South Carolina; Kokopelli is awaiting further instructions from Ted, who is in a cave/bunker somwhere around Loveland, CO,... we think it might be the Eisenhauer Tunnel; The Aggie super heroes are still shadowing the explorers in Virginia; Hawkeye and the others are heading south on I-77 towards Canton, Ohio.....
“Canton, Ohio?” the Czar interrupted
“Uh, yes. It seems Bin-Jush wants to get Gail Sayers’ Jersey and Hawkeye agreed to replace it with a Chuck Long jersey”
Those idots, thought the Czar, “Okay, continue”
“And Jussell is pointing a stinger missle on Ruffwood at a secret NATO airbase in Denmark”
“WHAT?” THAT BETTER NOT BE ONE OF OUR STINGERS” roared the Czar
“No, sir, we believe Jussell picked it up on his own while on a mission in Central America at a Sandinista garage sale. It had Ollie North’s autograph on it. He put it up on E-bay once. Some hotshot at NSA named Meg Debkenna caught the post, put in the high bid and nearly had him, but the FBI blundered again and Jussell got away, one step ahead of them.”
“WHY WASN’T I NOTIFIED ABOUT THIS?” thundered the Czar
El Goob handed the Czar a transcript:
“You were, sir. It was in the following coded rsfc post:

From: len
Subject: Re: Cessnas and football stadiums
Newsgroups: rec.sport.football.college
Date: 2001-09-21 10:50:38 PST
"Kokopeli" <wnalyd@deleteme.home.com> wrote in message news:<_pIq7.23321$QK.19658775@news1.sttln1.wa.home.com>...
> "Byron S" <byrons33@byrons222.com> wrote in message
> news:k0hmqtcppa3j1hug30ngr0ondd0ur90gd9@4ax.com...
> >
> > How can we prevent bomb-loaded cessnas from crashing into football
> > stadiums? We are such an easy target.
> > SAMs.
Give each fan a shoulder fired stinger missile - It would also eliminate
bad calls by the refs.

--
Len Johnaweaver.

Damb, the Czar thought, I have got to use my code book more often when reading rsfc

(the same code book available with any Runza Value Meal purchase at participating Runza’s, along with Aggie Super hero action figure collector cards)

“Ahem” cleared the Czar’s throat

(sorry, we now resume our story...)

“Right. Now, where was I?”
“You were thinking that you needed to use the code book while reading rsfc, sir”
“HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT?” growled the Czar
“I read it up above, sir”
“Okay, anything else?”
“No, I think that about cover’s it for now”
“Alright, carry on, and no more genuflecting in front of me”.
“Indeed, sir”
El Goob hurried from the inner chamber. He REALLY needed a burrito.
-------------
Ruffwood had dropped the phone when he saw Jussell begining to squeeze the trigger of the stinger. Remembering his high school wrestling days, he quickly rolled onto his back and began bridging.
The move caught Jussell by surprise. He unshouldered the stinger and began cheering for Ruffwood to pin himself.
Ruffwood rolled out of it and reached up and tagged Choequist. Choequist, not knowing what to do next, set the tray down, sat down, and took a long draw on his Carlsberg. Ruffwood jumped up and joined him. Jussell just stood there.
“Your beer’s getting cold” muttered Ruffwood, as he nibbled on a cheese and cracker sammich.
“What is this, England?” replied Jussell
the three enjoyed a hearty laugh as Jussell sat down and picked up his beer.

At a nearby table, they hadn’t noticed that a figure was watching them, and talking and typing on an international web cellphone.

Ken Ralphedy typed fast and furiously to his headquarters in rsfc code:
“Sun Devil here, Still in the upper deck, waiting for a Husker to score, they are in classic denial”

Chapter 11

The Talibison agents intercepted Harry north of Denver, blindfolded him and drove him west on I-70 to the Loveland pass exit. There, he was met by a representative of Ted, who identified himself as Manu.
“I drive you over pass to Ted” muttered Manu, “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA”
Harry was uncomfortable in his Speedos and sweatervest, and didn’t trust this Manu.

High above them, Ted watched Manu’s ‘63 Ford Galaxy labor up the pass. He glanced at his calender and the date that was circled in red ink. He chuckled to hisself

--------------------

Glapman took off in the Glapjet and returned to the Glapcave on Glap Island in the Bahamas.
“Welcome back, sir, All went well?”
“Yes Alfred, the mutant goats took care of Lou Holtz and the visor I planted will allay all suspicion from me.”
“Well done, sir”.
“Thanks, Alfred. Now then, did that NSC agent, uh, what was her name?”
“Meg Debkenna, sir”
“Yes, did she intercept that transmission, as we planned?”
“Indeed, sir”
“Excellant. Lets give her some more fodder. Dial up, hmmmmm, lets see, how about....Dr. Metzler”
“A fine choice, sir”

-----------------
When they had finished their cheese and crackers and beers, Choequist ushered Jussel and Ruffwood to an obscure corner of the base. Entering an obscure hanger, Ruffwood was surprized to see it nearly empty, with just a few computers and something that looked like a jacuzzi with a dome over it.
“I can’t believe you actually built it” gasped Jussell
“Choequist, what is this thing?” asked Ruffwood
“The culmination of Dr. Metzler’s work”
“Dr. Metzler....oh the astromologist/single malt expert?”
Jussell and Choequist chuckled, “Yeah, that Dr. Metzler” said Choequist.
“It was a cover for this” added Jussell
“Well WTF is this?” asked Ruffwood
“Officially, it is known as I-Time Portal, (we had go with Apple’s naming scheme, since they let us use their new secret G-5 processor), but we like to call it the Wayback machine”

---------------------

Hawkeye surveyed the scene: The Canton Police officer booking his Chuck Long jersey as evidence looked alot like Bo Jackson. Bin-Jush kept demanding to see “Brian’s Song”. Cofi kept muttering: “Davie...Davie....the horror....the horror....” and Boyd Kris had vanished.
Never should have left him in the car while we broke into the Hall of Fame, thought Hawkeye.

Kris had gone about 5 miles down the road when he turned around. Damb, damb, damb, he thought, why am I doing this, is it because I have bonded with these dudes and can’t leave them in this scrape? Or is it because I walked and forgot to drive the car instead? Dumn, Dumn, Dumn...

-----------------

“Are you tellin me this is a time machine?” yelled Ruffwood

“Better” replied Jussell. “Remember that Stanford-Cal game?”
We moved the Stanford band onto the field during that last kickoff return. Originally, they were still in the stands and Cal’s return was stopped. That was our first successful test”

“ODL!” gasped Ruffwood, “That cost me $100!”
“I hope you didn’t bet against Valvano and NC State that one year in the NCAA BB tourney, too” grinned Choequist
“You did that, too?” whispered Ruffwood.
“Maybe, I can’t disclose everything we have done” answered Choequist
“Who are you people?”
“You’ve heard of the Weaufx gods?”
“Yeaa....yes?
“They don’t exist, but we do. We are part of the same agency that, uhhh, ‘sponsors’ the Weatherdudes.
Before Ruffwood could respond, the command center lit up....
----------------
The Czar’s image was beamed on the big screen for all to see and hear:
“As you know, the BCS is Broked. You must fix it. Find and acquire the finest minds throughout time and take care of it. This is the mission I command”.

---------
Kris had walked back to the car, for some reason the trunk seemed to be humming. He grabbed the key and opened it and inside, the fetstick was glowing.......

----------
“Whose the next caller, Roz?”
“Well Frazier, it’s someone calling himself Kokopelli, and he claims to have information about the Weaufx gods and the BCS and Ted, and something called the fetchstick. He seems to be hyperventalating and he wants a fresh Krispy Kreme donut in exchange for all this information. And he thinks Daphne is hawt”
“I see, okay, Whose the next caller then, Roz?”
--------
Kokopelli flung down the phone. He suddenly felt alone and isolated. Very well, then, Skippy, he thought. I know what you know, and even if you know that I know that you know, I know that you know that I know, and even though you know that I know that you know what I know that you know what I know, Know this.....

Chapter 12

Kokopelli was still talking to hisself, when the phone range. He picked it up.
“Climb Mount Chiquita” said a voice on the other end.
Kokopelli hung up. At last,.... the code words. He chuckled. Mount Chiguita in Rocky Mountain National Park not far from Boulder, was an ideal code phrase to start the mission.
He drove south to Boeing Field and began inflating the Bison Blimp.

---------------

Sed Gumner had been driving all over the Puget Sound area the past few weeks seeking items for his mysterious new employer, he knew only as Mr. K.:
A cooler of Gatorade, Samoan War Drum, Lawrence Phillips Fingerprints, red polyester, a sooner schooner, plutonium, a pig farmer, 500 gallons of black and gold paint, a used blimp, and so on.
Well, this guy paid well and he had found all of it, except the Gatorade. Mr. K hadn’t even minded that he had substituted a cooler of iced Starbucks Cappuccino instead.
Now he was helping Mr. K paint the inflated blimp.

“Hey, boss, what’s this CU we’re painting on the blimp mean?”
Kokopelli said nothing, but felt a twinge of guilt. Too bad I shall have to eliminate you, Gumner, but I can leave no witnesses, he thought.
“Never mind, here, have a Jack-In-The-Box Burger”
“Thanks, man”
Kokopelli grinned. He had bought that burger several years ago, before JITB had increased thier cooking temperatures. And he had made sure that the beef patty had come from a certain packing plant.
Gumner bit into the burger.

The Blimp lifted off on schedule several hours later and as Kokopelli looked back down at Gumner several hundred feet below, he noted with satisfaction that Gumner was having a second helping of the two-day-old potato salad that Kokopelli had left out in the sun...just to make sure.

---------------
Several days later, a local Seattle FBI agent filed his report:
“The doctor in charge of the case is amazed, saying: ‘the e coli should have killed him by itself, but with the salmonella, well, it’s a medical miracle this guy is still alive.’ We now know the where and how, but still, not the why. We should be able to interview Gumner in another 24 hours, if he survives”.

--------------

Ruffwood and Jussell stepped out of the jacuzzi with the last of thier “guests”
Choequist stepped forward and said: “Willkommen, Herr Chancellor, kommen bitte mit mir” and with that, he led Otto von Bismarck to a nearby room.
Inside the room, Choequest observed the other guests. They were all still a bit stunned and groggy: Machiavelli, Churchill, Karl Marx, Martin Luther, Helen of Troy........
(well, dambit, they were human after all, and she really did turn out to be hawt!, a cross between Alyssa Milano, Jennifer Love Hewitt, Sela Ward, Penelope Cruz, Shania Twain, Liz Hurley, and Stephanie Seymour), Gaius Julius Caesar, ...........Hey.........
(okay, I know, most of you have already gone off RSFC and are searching for gifs, sigh....Get back here, you pervs).......
now, where was I?....Oh, right....
....Frank Sinatra, Sun Tzu, John Wayne, and Charles Schultz.

---------------
Hawkeye, recently broken out of the Canton jail was jolted back to reality (how did that viking know I was searching for Alyssa Milano gifs on the net?, the farce is strong with that one)
Thanks be that Kris had returned and stormed the Canton PD HQ
Hawkeye was amazed that Kris had mastered the use of the fetchstick (the farce is strong with that one, too, he thought)-----------
Ted looked up as the Bison Blimp passed overhead, heading east.
Harry noted Ted’s chuckle and was at once, frightend and confused.
Ted, issued orders: “Come, we drive to Boise, blue field.
They got in the Ford Galaxy, Manu, the driver began to laugh: HAHAHAHA........
Idot, thought Harry

Chapter 13

Kokopelli looked down from the Bison blimp at the scene of devistation below him.
WTF? he thought. He looked at the trigger, No, he hadn’t hit it,
WTF? he thought again, is this some kind of trick?
There were shards of red polyester everywhere, as if Lil’ Red had imploded, and the Goalposts were being torn down. He tuned into the local AM broadcast: “Brown scores again, and Colorado has won, repeat, Colorado has won and held off the Huskers for the first time in 10 years! Glory, Glory Colorado......”
Kokopelli was in shock, but quickly recovered. What to do with the Bison Blimp next? His orders were explicit, no contact with Ted once the mission commenced.
Texath! he thought. Ted hated the Horns almost as much as Nebraska. He would approve the deviation of the original plan, now that the Huskers were dispatched.
As he entered the new coordinates for Dallas to the nav computer, the bison blimp began to groan and heeled over towards the southeast across the wastelands of Kansas.

Three thousand feet below, lay Manhatten, bathed in moonlight.
Hmmm...Kokopelli thought, maybe a little test fire of the weapon was in order. He loaded the tube, checked the laser sight, flipped off the safety and fired
---------------
The 200 lb plutonium-enriched Goat-on-torpedo sped towards the twin silos that marked the skyline of Manhatten Kansas. The torpedo struck Silo 2 at exactly 2:43 AM, bounced off and landed in Aggieville, briefly waking up a druked and confused engineering student, who, after seeing the glowing goat, got up, stumbled across the street and passed out again.
There was no damage, but soon the plutonium worked its magic and the Goat began to transform into a giant 200 foot high mutant goat with tentacles and wingnuts and the abilty to send postcards. It immediately sent one to Kokopelli:

Arrived safely,
Thanks for the send off,
Your PLA

Then it began destroying what was left of Manhatten

Kokopelli was pleased. The Plutonium Loaded Animal weapon system was a success. As the Bison Blimp continued south, he noted that his first PLA was heading south, towards Wichita.
----------------------

We knew we were getting close to the last of the Hokies as we approached Blacksburg. The wind grew strong again, but at the same instant, Hurricane force winds began brewing up from the south heading our way.
We made camp and our Indian scout, Jivay, suggested we send out scouts, but make no attempt to contact the Hokie at this time.
“Why?” we asked.
“Hokies begin to twist their panties and seek out and attack cheeseheads for some reason during Hurricane season” he replied.
After burying our remaining meagre supply of monterry jack and gorgonzola, we sent out scouts and dug in. We were no longer in fear of any remaining panty-twisting Hokies as this new Hurricane threat was a bigger concern.

---------------
Eggman received the flash alert from the Czar and he and Spillman left the Pink Pony to shadow the Kon-Sliki expedition, in pursuit of the giant mutant goat that was ravaging central Kansas. Wichita was the chokepoint between the Big XII north and south, if it wasn’t stopped there.......Oklahoma was doomed and the Red River might not even save Texath.
As the other two aggie superheros took off, the Pink Pony thought:
“Hmmmmm, a giant radioactive mutant goat.....I wonder if it eats mules?” He chuckled to himself, while watching the expedition dig in and burying cheese (WTF’s up with that?, he thought), picturing the giant goat chasing a mule and hundreds of plebes....
“Why HADN’T the Navy developed its own Plutonium Goat-on-Torpedo?”
he suddenly wondered.
--------------------

At that same instant, Reg Joffers, at a secret Navy Bio-Nuclear-Mutations Weapons Lab somewhere in Georgia had the same thought.

He also wondered why he was always called the evil twin. That darned Pink Pony, always getting the good press....Mom always liked him best.
No matter, he had other problems. His Red Elephant project had gone awry. It had to be in the lab somewhere, but thus far, the Hunt for Red Elephant had yielded nothing. Anyway, giving an elephant a caterpiller propulson had just made it even noisier. Damn, how to silence those tracks...that was the key.
-------------
Hawkeye looked over at Cofi who was drowsing off as they drove along I-77 south of Charleston, WV. “DAVIE!!” he shouted.
Cofi jerked wide awake and gripped the steering wheel in a stranglehold, then relaxed and said: “That was precious”. Hawkeye noted the response, but wondered, was this really Cofi, or was it the Foli or a Sith apprentice?

In the backseat, Bin-Jush pretended to sleep, but he was ever vigilant. The BCS was seeking him and he was planning that he could escape by traveling with these idots to Blacksburg.
“Heh”, he thought, “What better place to hide from the BCS?”
------------

Eggman and Spillman arrived south of Newton, Kansas just in time to see Kansas National Guard units attacking the giant mutant Goat, designated as PLA 1.
The Kansas troops were being slaughtered by the giant goat monster and its radioactive tentacles.
Eggman yelled to Spillman above the carnage: “We need Yeller Sauce, now!”
Spillman was nauseated, then remembered his WWI history: Yeller Sauce=Mustard Gas....Yes! It might just work!!!!” It might be their last hope.

Chapter 14

As the last 12 pounder was being unlimbered, Col Cub Harbison, commander of the 1st Alabama Artillery Battalion checked the postioning of his batteries. Down below, remnants of Kansas and Oklahoma National Guard units were in full flight swimming across the Red River.
“Idots, Why aren’t they using the bridge”? he wondered.
His guns overlooked the Red River, some 6 miles north of Gainsville on I-35 and were an impressive sight: 12 Batteries of 12 pounder Napoleons amongst his 4 companies, a total of some 48 guns. It was dusk, and far off to the north, there was a glow on the horizon.

Eggman and Spillman walked up to him. They hadn’t been able to find any yeller sauce and they sure weren’t going to mention that to this grizzled old-school Bama officer.
“Glad you could make it in time, Colonel” said Spillman
“Glad to be here, suh, uhh, ya’ll are sure this is a Yankee goat?”
“Indeed, without a doubt” answered Eggman, who shrugged at Spillman.
“Well, good” answered Harbison. “So how come ya’ll needed the 1st Alabama. Where are all the Texas units?”
“The Czar ordered them deployed as last lines of defense around our landmarks: The Cotton Bowl, Texas Stadium, Alamo Bowl, Astro Dome, Rice Stadium, Dubya’s ranch, etc.” answered Spillman, “We’re stretched pretty thin right now and the 1st Alabama is the only guard unit in the country still using smoothbore 19th century weapons. We figured your solid shot might take out some of the tentacles, and then we can call in a couple of AC-130s to slow it down enough to drop a daisy cutter on it. That should create a huge hole that the 4th Colorado Infantry will then attack and exploit.”

“Sounds like a good plan. My boys won’t let you down. Where’s the 4th Colorado now?”
“They had already moved out, headed for Dallas for a training exercise, when the Mutant Goat appeared. They have been pursuing it ever since. If we can hold on here, they should make it in time.” answered Eggman

---------------------

The Ford Galaxy was somewhere north of Green River, Utah, when Manu pulled it off the side of the road.
“Mr Wellboss, wake up, we have company” hissed Ted
Harry looked out on the moonlit rugged arid landscape and saw a trio of dunebuggies approaching
“Who are they?” asked Harry
“Should be our escort, mercenaries in the employment of El
Naranja Del Agente”.
Harry whistled, El Naranja Del Agente controlled vast financial holdings in publishing and a lot of North American desert. It was suspected that he was providing the financial support for the Talibison and other underrated football programs.

One of the dunebuggies blinked its lights 5 times, Manu responded with two blinks. A second dunebuggy played the first notes of the Close Encounters theme on a boombox, Manu responded with the first notes from Dueling Banjos. From the third dunebuggy, a voice came over a loudspeaker: “Knock Knock”
Manu picked up a loudspeaker: “Who’s There?”
“Orange”
“Orange who?”
“Orange you glad to see us?”

Oh for the love of....Harry thought

“It’s them, sir” Manu reported to Ted.
“Follow us” came the response from the dunebuggies.
“Make it so” replied Ted to Manu.
They took off north, towards Salt Lake City.
------------------------

Kokopelli looked down from the Bison Blimp as he crossed the Red River
“Who are those brave lads in gray?” he wondered as he saw the artillery emplacements on the south side of the river.
Never mind, he had more important matters to attend to. He would set down south of Denton and arm his remaining PLAs, and load up on BBQ, if he could find a place. He suddenly realized how much he had missed real BBQ living in the Seattle area. And he still wondered where the rsfck his missing gascap was.

--------------

In an isloted hanger in northern Denmark, the discussions had begun. These figures from time had taken to the internet like ....uhhh.....any other newbies to the internet.
Luther spoke first: “Hey, I just made 95 posts about the BCS, and flamed Notre Dame in most of them”
Charles Shultz: “Good Grief”
Caesar: “I came, I saw, I don’t understand”
John Wayne: “Well, pilgrim, didya read the F..AQ?”
Caesar: “No, but I have to say that all of football is divided into 3 parts:
Offensia, Defensia, and Special Teamsia”
Elvis spoke up:”You gonna finnish that pizza, Julius?”
“Friends, the BCS is a tool of the bourgeosie capitalists. Overthrow the BCS and teams will be selected by local bowl workers, each according to the their needs and abilities and then we will have a pure football postseason paradise. You have nothing to lose but your mythical champions!”
Bismarck ignored Marx, “The Championships of the day will be decided with Blood and Iron” he shouted. “Regardless of how they are organized”.
“And don’t forget, the end justifies the means” added Machiavelli, “I am writing a new book on the Alabama program, those guys would have done very well in Medieval Italy”
“Hey, Bismarck, pass the schnitzal” yelled Elvis, “Hey Churchill, how about a drumstick?”
“I have nothing to offer but blood, sweat, tears, and meatballs” replied the former PM
“Ewww, your drunk” whined Helen of Troy
“And you, shir, are ugly, but inna morning, I sall be shober”

Observing this behind a two way mirror, Choeguist thought, well THIS was a great idea.
---------------------

“Majuh, you may give Company A my respects and have them comence firing on the mutant goat”
“Very good, suh” and the majuh...er major rode off to execute the order.
Off to the left, The Dreamland Battery began the barrage, followed quickly by the Stallings Battery and finally, the slow starting Franchione Battery. After a couple of ranging rounds, the company’s guns began scoring hits.
“You’re boys shoot well, Colonel” said Spillman, admiring the gunners’ work. “Especially that lad leading the Dreamland battery”
“Yes, suh, that boy does good work, even though he’s from Aubrun. Name’s David something, but we just call him Dang-er. Plays a mean guitar, too.” Harbison turned to his adjutent: “Majuh, I believe the goat is now in range of Company B, they may join in now if they are so inclined”
And minutes later, off to the right, Company B’s guns boomed into action.
Harbison lifted the spyglass to his eye to check the results of his Battalian’s efforts. The giant mutant goat began to lose tentacles and looked confused, but continued to advance. Then he looked off in the distance behind the goat....there was a column on the march.
“Suh, you have younger eyes than mine, that column coming up behind the goat,...Be it Yankee blue....or Colorado black?”
He passed the spyglass to Eggman, who peered at the scene but could see nothing.
“Pardon me, suh, but you close the eye that’s NOT looking in the eyepiece”
“Sorry Colonel, I’ve never used one of these before” Eggman switched eyes and saw.....
A solitary MIAI on the flank of the column, turret rotating and firing wildly in all directions
“Company C, If ya’ll please, take out that tank!” yelled Colonel Harbison.
After several minutes, the MIAI began retreating.
“Message on the wireless, suh” and the adjutant handed Colonel Harbison his cellphone
Eggman and Spillman exchanged glances and shrugs.
Harbison listened for a moment.
“Well boys, the commander of that ironclad just apologized and says it won’t happen again. Says he’s headed back home. Have Company C shift its fire to the goat, if you please, Majuh. Oh, Mr. Eggman, suh, what column did you see in the spyglass?”
----------------------

El Naranja Del Agente walked out of the room in his mountain fortress/bunker as the laser finished it’s lethal work. “No, Mr Bond, I expect you to die” He chuckled, what a great line, he would have to remember to use it again when he had the chance.
He pushed a button: “Number 4, what is the status of our Winter Olympics project?”
“Operation Wasatch is proceeding according to plan”
“Very well, Number 4. Number 5, what about the Bison Blimp?”
“Refueling in north Texas, we were met by your ‘representatives’ and should be arriving shortly”.
“Okay”
El Naranja smiled, his plans for global domination were going according to plan. Soon he would be able to eradicate the abomination known as Cinncinnatti Chili, among other things.
-----------------
Meg Debkenna hurried the transcripts of these latest intercepts to her supperiors as she wondered, could they act on them in time?

Chapter 15

Kokopelli approached Texas Stadium, readied another Goat-on Torpedo.
Then he noticed something strange. A dead cow, and then another and another. Even Bevo looked ill, losing the contents of 2 or 3 stomachs.
Curious, Kokopelli parked the Bison Blimp at Reunion Tower and shimmied down a rope to the lobby of the Hyatt, where he bought a copy of the Dallas Morning News, and saw the score of the Big XII championship.
“Well, I’ll be....” he thought. “No point destroying Texas Stadium now.”
He noticed the polls and began to grin. Colorado had a slim shot at a split MNC, but something would have to make sure a certain team in Orange didn’t win the SEC, and he was that something.
He shimmied back up the rope to the cockpit of the blimp and set a course for Atlanta.

-------------
Glapman saw the Glapsignal and took off at once.
Reaching 45,000 feet, he checked the Glapjets Glapanswering machine for the Glapjet’s Glapphone. Glapman had it all. Well, he still needed to nail Glapgirl, but that is a tail best left for another day.

-------------
“Jussell!, Cmon, we got new orders, top priority, there’s trouble afoot.” yelled Ruffwood
“What’s up?”
“A Giant Mutant Radioactive Goat with Tentacles has just cut a path of destruction through Kansas and Oklahoma. Only thing standing between it and Mexico City is an Alabama Artillery Brigade”
“Okay, good one, now, what’s really up?”
“I’m serious, now get your as...gear and meet me at the plane, pronto”

Choequist watched them depart. From the next room,
Luther and Marx were singing selections from “The Student Prince”:
“Trinken Sie, trinken Sie, trinken Sie, zu den Augen, die das sind...”, Sinatra was hitting on Helen of Troy, and Elvis had discovered a box of Krispy Kremes in the cupboard. and Julius Caesar was still trying to figure out how to send an email. Machiavelli was helping him: “Well, here’s the probelm, substitute @ for et, so it should be Brutus@tu.com.”

Choequist sighed, now he had to babysit these characters, and this would probably be his last appearance in the story.
From the next room, Churchill bellowed: “Has an Iron curtain descended on this bar or something? Choequist? The Duke and I need another drink, here!” Choequist double sighed. In Churchill’s inebriated condition, he probably thought John Wayne WAS a Duke”
Suddenly Choequist had a thought: “If I use the Wayback machine, maybe I can appear later on in the story?.....hmmmmm, Why not?”

-----------------
Eggman could barely make out the column that was advancing behind the goat, then he could scarcely believe his eye
“Colonel Harbison, it’s neither Colorado Black or Yankee Blue, it’s a bunch of hobbits, led by Scott I Froddo”. Scanning to the left, he reported:
“There’s the Colorado column, they have outflanked the creature, crossed the river and are headed for Dallas”
“They’ll Smoke a Turd in Hell for that” thundered Harbison, “Where’s are air support, where’s that AC-130? The Daisy Cutter?”
“Strategic Air Command reports that all of those assets were turned over to Central Command, for use in Afghanistan” reported Spillman, “The Czar has ordered a B-2 to assist us, but it may take awhile for it to arrive. He has also been trying to contact Glapman”
“Very well, gentleman, than its up to us for now. Majuh, have all companies concentrate fire on the goat’s legs, if you please”
The maju...major gave his salute and turned to leave when suddenly, off to the right flank, a column of buckskin clad lads wearing coonskin caps attacked the goat. A lone figure galloped up to them. As he dismounted, the goat turned under the unexpected assualt and began to retreat.
“Who are you and your men, soldier?” asked the colonel
“Dwight Brale, sir” reported the rider, “My commander, Pat Filmer and his volunteers send their complements and hope y’all don’t mind if we get involved and blow that goat away for y’all?”
“Well, son, we could have managed, but dangit if y’all are glad to be here, than y’all are more than welcome to join us”, replied the Colonel.
“Thank you, Suh. We have to be leaving soon, though. We are needed in Atlanta, which is threatened by a mutant bayou bengal”
“Lord, those Cajins”, muttered Harbison, “Good luck, son” and give your commander my regards”
“Thank you, suh” and with that Brale remounted and rode off to join his unit.

---------------
Glapman played back the recording from the message the Czar had left on the GlapAnswering machine
“WTF?” he thought. How does he expect me to stop a giant mutant radioactive goat?
The Glapjet did carry harpoon missles, but what could they do against such a target? Well, only one way to find out. His Glap rader/IR locked on the goat target.
He descended rapidly to 1000 feet and he began his run.

Then he heard a voice: “Glap, use the force”. He looked behind him, nope, nobody in the passenger seat, then the voice said: “Ease his pain” Glapman looked around him, under his seat, in the glapjet’s glapglove compartment, in the glapjets glapcupholder, still there was no one.
--------------

At the palace, deep in the communications room, the Czar and El Goob trying hard not to burst out in laughter.
“Oh, my turn sir, I’ve got a good one”
“Okay, Goob”
El Goob keyed the mike: “Rosebud”
------------
The voice sounded slightly different, but WTF was happening? Who was saying these things and why? Meanwhile he had overshot the goat and would have to turn and come around again. A tentacle had reached for the glapjet, but Glapman was too busy looking for the voices and didn’t see the shot by Dang-er’s Dreamland Battery gun crew that neatly sliced the reaching tentacle in two.
--------------
The Czar looked over at the monitor, and for a second thought Alfred was going to have a seizure, he was laughing so hard.
“Great job of planting that remote wireless speaker in the Glapjet’s cockpit, Alfred”
“BWAHAAA.....chortle...”Oh my word.....chortle chortle....it was a pleasure, sir...”
“Glad to have you on board with us. See you in a couple of days here at the palace”
the Czar turned and keyed the mike, stifling a chuckle: “Trust in the Force, Glap”
-----------
Glapman climbed to 30,000 feet after he heard the voice again. “Screw that goat”, he thought and punched in some numbers on his comm link

“This is Frazier Crane, how can I help you, Mr. uhhh Glapman?”
“Doc, I’m hearing voices”
“What are they saying?”
“Lots of things, the last one just said to ‘build an ark made of gopherwood, and then I thought I heard laughing’
“I see, where are you now?”
“I’m in the Glapjet circling at 30,000 feet over the Texas-Oklahoma border and a giant mutant radioactive goat with tentacles”
“I see, well, just hang the phone up and report to one of your orderlies and thanks for calling...Roz, may I have a word with you?....”
------------
Ruffwood stretched in the cockpit of the B-2, it had been a long flight, he really hated all those mid-air refuelings, but here they were, passing over St. Louis, just an hour away from the Goat, if it really existed. Like Jussell, he also had his doubts

Chapter 16

Ted and Harry and Manu entered the study of El Naranga's palacial
mountain citadel and were offered Brandy and cigars. Harry was
impressed. Brandy was a babe, and the cigars were Cuban. El Naranga's
home entertainment system was state-of-the-art and top-of-the-line:
over a dozen big-screen HD TVs tuned to everything from the CNN feed of
the giant radiactive mutant goat in southern Oklahoma, to World
Figureskating, the World Cup Prelims, NCAA Volleyball, the Hypesman
Channel, Aflack Duck channel, ESPN Platinum request classic channel, etc...
El Naranja entered and got to the point.
"Harry, we need someone like you, how would you like your own number?,
What do you think, Number 5?
Ted chuckled: "Harry, having a number is the ultimate, its like
unlimited frequent flyer miles, unlimited cellphone minutes, free
password to every pron site on the web, and unlimited pulled pork with
red sauce all rolled into one. It's a get out of jail and get a free
Lotus and all the Krispy Kremes you desire, card.
Want to see the Super Bowl? no problem. Masters? You have a green
jacket, Final Four? You sit on the bench. World Series? you throw out
a first pitch. It is that great.
"BWHAHAHAHAHA..."
"Shut up, Manu"
"Yes, Master"
"Of course if you fail, you will be terminated", El Naranja mumbled "but
then of course we always have plenty of cool numbers available. Which
one would you like?"
Harry thought for a second.
"Do I have to change polical parties?"
"Of course not" replied El Naranja
"Kewl, then can I be Number 86, like Maxwell Smart?"
"Sure"
"Can I nail Agent 99"?
"Uhh, no problem, we can arrange that" El Naranja was wondering why
Harry wanted some actress who was in her 50s or 60s, but what the hey....
"Alright, I'm in"
"Bravo, old chap" Ted slapped Harry on the back
"What do I have to do?" asked Harry
"Well, Number 86" El Naranja grinned, "You need to make sure that the
BCS dies before the Rose Bowl Selections"
Harry was stunned, than thought: "The old give him his number and then
give him an impossible mission trick. Second time this story I've
fallen for it."

------------
The First Alabama Artillery was finishing off the giant mutant
radioactive goat, when it began shrinking to normal size.
"Majuh, be so kind as to send one of our boys to check it out"
ordered Col. Harbison.
The major spotted a soldier writing code for a new game about stopping
giant goats with 19th century field artillery): "Seargent Nhork"
"Suh?"
"Put down that laptop and check out that goat"
"Yes, suh"

---------------

The B-2 began to make its run at the goat, when it began to shrink.
"Damn, we just lost our laser lock on target designate: Kanley
Stubrick", grunted Ruffwood, "Switching to the 30 mm". Ruffwood liked
the 30 mm GAU-8/A seven-barrel Gatling gun, squeezing off thousands of
rounds of the depleted uranium ordinance was fun. He manuevered the
joystick until the goat came up in the cross-hairs of his HUD

--------------
Sgt. Div Nhork approached the goat cautiously and looked up just in time
to see the the B-2 coming at him, when the gun began to fire. Suddenly
everything seemed to be going in slow motion, the shells tearing up the
landscape all around them.
"What are you doing, Div?" the goat seemed to be asking him.

In reality, it only took about 10 seconds for them both to be struck by
several hundred rounds each. In a final act of defiance, the goat
rammed his horns into Nhork's goiter, pulled back and fell. Nhork fell
on the goat's groin, squeezing it's ballsack in the process.

Later, writing in his journal, Col Harbison noted:
"The boy died with a strange twisted sort of smile on his face, and we
paid all military respects to the goat, with red sauce of course."

---------------

Meanwhile, our little group of explorers had given up hopes of finding
any surviving Hokies after the Hurricane and we decided to follow the
path of the Hurricane as it reversed course and turned south.
After several days, we stumbled into the midst of a swamp.
We met up with a band of happy Vols, and had begun celebrating the
announcement of the Heisman Trophy, when a car on the nearby road pulled
up. We took cover.
Four figures got out, and one of them said: "This looks like a good
place to jump in".
Kris reached for his fetchstick and Hawkeye reached for his
lightsaber/palm pilot/Swiss Army Knife/phaser/etc.
Bin-Jush reached for another beer. They all faced Cofi.
"Give me the fetchstick, Kris, Notre Dame needs a new coach" said Cofi,
as he lit up his new double edged shamrock"
Kris lit up the fetchstick and Hawkeye lit up his whatchamacallit
Bin-Jush turned on the CD player and went to the "Duel of the Phates" track.

Nearby, a dark blimp appeared overhead. Red Tathkopf looked up just in
time to see....

Chapter 17

The Czar and El Goob had just returned from a Hogan's Heroes FanCon 2001
event.
"Repooooorrt!" ordered the Czar.
El Goob replied, "Javold, Colonel". He really hated this. Why did he
have to be Sgt Schultz. Why couldn't he be Sgt. Carter, now there was a
comic genious. The Czar, being Klink was okay, since the Czar already
had the monocle, but....
"Ahem"
"Right, sorry sir. Okay. Well, Spillman and Eggman are in conference
room B, awaiting debriefing, and the Pink Pony is still shadowing the
explorers, who are mired in a swamp with a bunch of vols, watching a
Duel of the Phates between Cofi, Hawkeye, and Kris, while the Bison
Blimp is overhead, having taken a wrong turn at Biloxi en route to Atlanta".
Wellboss, aka #86, hacked into Bill Gate's bank account and transferred
2 Billion dollars to PBS and they outbid ABC, effectively killing the
BCS, since nobody watches PBS....and...uhhh Czar?"
"Oh, sorry, I was just thinking about that artist guy and his happy
little trees, carry on" muttered the Czar
El Goob (yeah that guy was good, how come he never did hawt chicks or
burritos) "okay, Uhmmm...with the mutant radioactive giant goat gone,
the 1st Alabama is returning home and the B-2 is refueling at Offut en
route to Pasadena to fly CAP in case the Talibison decide to strike."

-------------
Red Thathkopf couldn't believe he was seeing a flying jacuzzi, then just
as suddenly as it appeared, it disappeared.

---------------

Choequist was having trouble with the controls to the wayback machine.
He checked the manual: "RSFCK!" It was written in Korean. He went to
HI! speed. There was another blinding flash and strange music and bad
special effects involving a fifth down and a strangely shaped PSU field
and Lou Holts at Arkansas in the Orange Bowl. Then, suddenly the
jacuzzi stopped. There were 4 men on horses in old football uniforms.

---------------
Cofi finally dispatched Kris with a shamrock to the goiter, and was
reaching for the fetchstick while turning to face Hawkeye.
Hawkeye kneeled and extended his palm pilot thingy, projecting an image
of O'Leary. Cofi drew back, and Hawkeye moved in for the kill, while
Bin-Jush turned up the volume of the CD player.

Then, they all noticed the Bison blimp above them.

---------------
Our indian guide, Jivay noticed the blimp before anyone else of our
group. He hoisted his immense, .67 Pennsylvania Extra-Long Rifle with
modified laser sight, and fired then began to reload.

Kokopelli noticed the single muzzle flash, and began to take evasive
measures, ascending to 5,000 feet, and remembering Ted's orders: "If
under attack, evade by running silent and running high". At 5,000 feet,
he shut down the engines and released oil and jettisoned some clothing
and lifejackets out the torpedo tube and waited in silence.

After reloading, Jivay raised his weapon and began to scan the night sky
for the blimp. The instant the laser sight caught something, he fired
and again began to reload. But this time the projectile found a target.

-------------
Glapman, who was returning to his Glapcave on Glap Island, had suddenly
decided that he needed a vacation after hearing the voices, and his
first choice was Polar Bear hunting on the Ross Ice Shelf. He
figured:"Hey, it is summer down there". So, somewhere east of Atlanta,
he changed course to the south.

-----------------
The .67 depleted uranium ordinance used by Jivay was unique in that it
was different and magic. It pierced the Glapjet's titanium skin, passed
through the luggage compartment, deflating two of Glapman's inflated
party girls, continuing on through the Glap Golf Cart's cooler before
entering the main cabin just below the Glap Ejector Seat's base

----------------
Glapman noticed an odd sensation on his right cheek, in the pocket where
he carried the Glap wallet.
--------------
The bullet richoched off the wallet, turning 90 degrees before tearing
into the Glapjet's Glap flight data recorder and contiuing on into the
Glapjet's Glap Auto Wipers
--------------
Glapman began to reach for his wallet, when the wipers went into action.
"WTF?, It's not raining?" thought Glapman
------------
Passing through the auto wiper, the magic bullet turned left to seek out
the Glapjet's power moonroof control and finding it, blasted it, then
backtracked to the Glapjet's Glap minifridge where it popped the corks
on two bottles of Dom Perignon and cut through a tin of Beluga Caviar.
Now, nearly spent, and slighty tipsy, the magic bullet embedded itself
in the Glapjet's flight computer, destroying it.
-----------
The Glapjet began to pitch and roll, and began a rapid descent from
25,000 feet, to 5,000 feet. During the first few seconds of this,
Glapman reached for the GlapPaperbag, and a few seconds later, realized
his aircraft was doomed. He had two choices, go down with his craft, or
pull the ejector handle (ODL). He had maybe 5 seconds to decide.
---------------
The waiting was difficult for Kokopelli. Beads of sweat formed on his
forehead. He was looking down, towards the ground, for more muzzle
flashes. He had seen one more but nothing after that. Had he been
looking up, he would have seen the Glapjet bearing down on the Bison
Blimp in a steep spiraling dive.
-------------
Spillman and Eggman stood as the Czar strode into Conference Room B.
"Be seated, gentleman. El Goob, project image 17-C on the screen",
ordered the Czar.
The image of the Glapjet striking the Bison Blimp was distinctive.
"The Pink Pony has reported that there were two survivors" reported the
Czar, "who are now in the hands of a Husker-deen faction, ruled by one
known only as Looney Rooney. Intel agrees with this and blames Rooney
for the downings. All of this occured in the vicinity of the fetchstick
that we have been tracking. Find Rooney, and you will find the fetchstick"
-----------
In their dankened beaver infested cell, Kokopelli was the first to
speak: "So, you think Oregon has a chance in the Fiesta?" Glapman just
glared back at him, while trying to activate his secret hidden Glap
Emergency signal to Alfred.

Chapter 18

Callie Sudro entered the cell with a platter of pulled pork and yeller sauce.

It had been nearly 18 hours since their capture so Kokopelli and Glapman were famished, but suspicious. Kokopelli reached for a handful of the pork, but Glapman hung back.
“Aw, c’mon, try some, It won’t kill you” murmured Callie
“It is good” offered Glapman.
Kokopelli weakened
“Here, try some Clemson ribs” said Callie and produced another platter
Glapman gave in and satiated his hunger.
Watching on a monitor in a nearby room, Looney cackled with glee and satisfaction.
“They are mine, now”

-----------------------
Harry Wellboss arrived at LAX and took a cab to the Playboy Mansion West.
“Hef, sorry to arrive like this but I need you help” Harry hated calling in favors, but he had saved Hef’s life in the Cold War during a USO tour.

Harry spent the next 15 hours trying to explain the BCS to Hef and assuring him that it didn’t involve babes, at least directly. Then Harry began to outline his plan for the distruction of the BCS, while Hef puffed his pipe and was thinking: Mmmmmm, Girls of the BCS.....Girls of RSFC.......Girls.......
“Uh, Hef,..Hef,....HEF!?”
“Oh, sorry Harry”
“Can you find an Ibis, one that we can substitute for the real one?”
“I think so, can it look like a bunny?”
“I suppose. Nobody knows what an Ibis looks like anyway....yes, that should work”

------------

Taking advantage of the confusion following the collision of the Glapjet and the Bison Blimp, Cofi reached for the fetchstick,
A coach began to materialize in front of them. Cofi peered at the figure, then flung the fetchstick to the ground in disgust.
“This fetchstick sucks. This coach sucks. A coach from a school that sucks”. And with that, Cofi began to vanish, cursing his and his school’s fate, into a cloud of green smoke.

Hawkeye held out his hand and the fetchstick rose to it. He turned to Bin-Jush
“Our work here is nearly done. We must destroy this fetchstick, lest other evil forces try and use it for their own ends. Thank Baal we are on the opposite coast from U$C”
“How do we destroy it?” asked Bin-Jush
“We must take it to the home of the Weauxf Gods and crosspost it, then douse it with copious amounts of Shiner Bock, and only then can we toss it into the caldera of Rocky Top, where it will be consumed once and for all.”
“Rocky Top?, Isn’t that in Tennessee?”
“Indeed, what better place to destroy the fetchstick”.
“Where is the home of the Weaufx gods?”
“Where ever ESPN Gameday is”
Bin-Jush gasped, “You mean ....Corso is a Weaufx god?”
Hawkeye glanced at him with a wry smile, “No, but they are always nearby, ready to pounce. Come, let us see if Cofi left the keys in his car”. He had, as Hawkeye had foreseen.
“What about Boyd Kris?, shouldn’t we do something?”
“Ah, yes,” Hawkeye waved a hand and the body of Boyd Kris transmorgrified into a purple powercat, purring before them for a few seconds, before running off in search of some lesser prey.

---------------------

“JUSSELL!” Ruffwood roared, “What is the meaning of these orders?”

After dispatching the goat, the B-2 had been ordered to land at nearby Edmunds AFB. While Ruffwood and the crew caught some rest, Jussell had been in contact with HQ, and briefed on a new mission.
----------------
Choequist chuckled, His first personal experiment with the Wayback machine had been a success after all. Georgia Tech had checked O’Leary’s background, but not since Choequist had changed his resume, shortly after Notre Dame had hired him.
Choequist decided to have some more fun.
Over the course of the next few days, history was rewritten as Mack Brown coached NC to an ACC title, undefeated BYU successfully sued the BCS, the astroturf at Boise State turned pink, Brent Musberger was hired by PBS, and in Seattle it was warm and sunny.

------------------
“So Choequist has gone insane, and controls the wayback machine?” asked Ruffwood after being briefed by Jussell
“Pretty much” replied Jussell
“Just how are we supposed to track and shoot down a time machine?”

Jussell grinned “We built in a safeguard, The Wayback has a pc with internet access. As long as the Wayback is active, so is the pc, we just track the cookies.”
“Through time?”
“Well, yes and no, We can track him through time and space, but can only get him in the present.” Jussell motioned towards a monitor “See, right now he’s back in Tempe in 1998, ushering hopeful Nebraska fans out of the upper deck. We should be able to intercept him if we can determine his next destination. Not likely. Otherwise, we head for Denmark, he’ll have to replenish the water in the Jacuzzi part of the Wayback soon. Just one problem, modern weapons won’t work on the Wayback, too many defense systems, so we need something more primitive, but accurate, hence the detour to Alabama”.
----------------
The Wayback approached the Titanic. Choequist adjusted the dials, and Kate Winslett’s fat ass began to shrink.
“Time to head home”, Choequist thought to himself since the water level had dropped to his waist, and he needed to add some chlorine. But first, one more stop, in Alabama, circa late ‘70s. Choequist chuckled to himself, this is gonna be great.
----------------
Callie and Looney watched on the monitor as Kokopelli and Glapman polished off another helping of pork and ribs
“I think you have them hooked” observed Looney
“Of course, nobody can resist my cooking” replied Callie

What they hadn’t noticed was that Kokopelli, using a rib bone, had begun digging a tunnel between meals

----------------
The 1st Alabama Artillery had returned to its home, Camp Cullman, but Col. Harbison intended that his men not fall into idle habits.
“Majuh, see to it that those caissons go rolling along and I will be inspecting the guns of each battery after lunch”
“Very good, suh”
“And majuh, be so kind as to give Captain Scotts my regards and my invitation to dine with me this noon”.

Captain “Stern” Scotts commanded the divisional reserve, a collection of 8-12 pounders, 6 howitzers, and 2 morters.
He was keeping his troops busy: “You men there, I want that barrel to shine, to gleam; Watch out there, son, you got more axel grease on you than on the axel; Where’s your forage cap, soldier? Nobody in my command is ever on duty and out of uniform”
His men liked him. He was stern, hence the nickname, but he was fair and he always took care of them.
“Captain Scotts?”
“Majuh, suh?”
“The Colonel sends his respects and wishes you to take lunch with him”
“Give my compliments to the Colonel, Majuh, suh. I shall be there directly”

A short time later, in Col. Harbison’s tent,
“Captain Scotts, forgive the quality of this Brunswick Stew, its a little thin for my taste, but I do hope you are enjoying the Merlot. I purchased a case from a blockade runner just in from England last month.”
“Colonel, the stew is most acceptable as is the wine, and these hushpuppies are just like my momma’s. My complements to your chef.”
“Thank you, suh. Now, on to business. Forgive my directness. You are to take personal command of one of your guns and crew. You will be met at 1800 hours by a Lt. Col. Trent Ruffwood. You will board his craft and he, along with a Mr. Ron Jussell will then brief you further. You will then obey any orders they may wish to issue to you and your crew. I can’t tell you anything more, mainly ‘cause I don’t know anything more. All I was told is that this is a matter of National Security. I can tell you this: I tuned into ESPN Classic last night, and I swear, it looked like the Bear was wearing a Visor...A VISOR!!!! AND A SWEATERVEST!!!!
There he was, the Bear, in a visor and a sweatervest. No suh, I am not insane.
It wasn’t just me, the traffic on the Tider Insider list and other Bama boards was so heavy after the show, that they all crashed. Something is greatly amiss, suh, Biblically amiss, and I believe you will be part of the mission to correct it. Godspeed, Captain Scotts.”

Chapter 19

Ruffwood landed at the airstrip outside of Camp Cullman and welcomed Captain Scotts and his gunnery crew aboard, then took off again into the gathering dusk
“Captain Scott, I’m Jussell. We’re en route to Denmark, where we need your crew to blast a jacuzzi”
“Happy to oblige, Mistuh Jussell, may i enquire as to why?”
“It’s actually a time machine that has been taken over by a madman who has been changing football history for the past several days...and he’s a Gator fan”.
“Well, Mistuh Russell, I don’t know about the rest, but if’n he’s a Gator fan, my boys will get the job done for y’all”

-----------
Harry, Agent 86, drove from the Playboy Mansion to Pasadena and found the crate the Hef had sent. He slipped the crate into the Rose Bowl. He made his way to the Miami lockerroom while the Canes were warming up on the field. Harry chuckled to himself, these fake Ibises would confuse Miami long enough for Nebraska to win and destroy the BCS. He opened the crate and was greeted by a ferocious and angry quacking
“NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” Harry screamed, “Hef, you idot, you’ve doomed me!!” Recovering and thinking quickly, Harry reached into his pocket for a magic marker and tried writing IBIS on one of the ducks. It wasn’t working. “Confound it!, only a miracle can doom the BCS now”.
From behind him, Harry heard a voice and the sound of bubbling water:
“Hello Harry”
Harry turned and saw a wrinkled figure in a jacuzzi, who started to rise to shake hands
“NO, no, don’t get up.....Who are You”?
“Harley, Harley Choequist. I’ve just been hired by El Naranja del Agente”
“Indeed, Are you going to kill me now?”
“Not at all my dear fellow. El Naranje realizes you can’t mess with the Weaufx Gods, he doesn’t hold you to blame. I’m here to take you back in time and make Archie Manning and Ole Miss win the SEC and MNC, among other things. That is El naranje’s punishment for your failure”.
Harry was stunned, “NOOOOOOO!!!!!!”
“But first I have to return to Denmark to refuel”
“Denmark, eh?, Can we stop by the fjords of Norway?”
“Uh, maybe after we get to Denmark”
“I packed speedos, should I change before getting in?”
“NO, no that isn’t necessary, grab one of those ducks, though. We can have it for dinner when we get back to Denmark”.

----------

Spillman and Eggman had rejoined the Pink Pony
“Hey” said the Pink Pony
“Hey” replied the other two Super Aggies
“We have to split up again, The Czar wants y’awl to continue following the Viking explorers, Spillman and I will shadow the Hawkeye party” reported Eggman.
“Hawkeye has the fetchstick” Pink Pony observed, “He plans on destroying it”.
“Yup” replied Eggman, “The Czar wants it at all costs”
“We’ll intercept them before they get to Rocky Top” added Spillman


-----------
Midway across the Atlantic, Lt. Col Ruffwood got on the intercom:
“We have an message from an NSA moniter by the name of Meg Debkenna who has intercepted transmissions from El Naranja to Choequist, he’s on his way back to Denmark. Captain Scotts, we should be feet dry over Jutland in about 2 hours”.

------------
Kokopelli had been digging for hours, when he reached the surface, only to discover some strange, cold, wet, white stuff. Snow!?!? WTF!!?? What was this, Canada?
“Hey, Glapman, you’re from Canada, right?”
“Mmmmphhhyeshmphh” Glapman replied downing some more pulled pork with some cornbread.
“Does this look like Canada to you?”
“Snow’s looking too wet.” Glapman picked up some snow and tasted it. “Salty and warm. The moisture from this snow came from the Gulf, warm air mass from the Gulf, met up with an Artic front zooming down from, ummm (Glapman tasted it again) Chicago, yes there’s a hint of Lake Michigan here. We’re still somewhere in the southeast”.
“Okay, grab some of those ribs, we need to make tracks before they discover we’re gone. Let’s see next meal should be in about 4 hours, C’mon”

Kokopelli and Glapman had been on the move for less than an hour, when they heard or felt a rumbling.
“Earthquake?” shouted Kokopelli
“Not here, too stable, tectonically” yelled Glapman, “It’s coming from over there”
And as he pointed to the crest of a hill behind them, they suddenly froze in horror. More than a thousand northbound stampeding fanatical goats came over the top of the ridge and were bearing down on them.
Suddenly, a figure ran up in front of them and threw down a visor and an injunction. The goats veered to either side of the trio and in a few momemts, were gone.
“Who...who Are You?” sputtered Kokopelli
“Call me Mace, Mace Mikeson, ‘Cane Attorney-at-large. Consider this pro bono. I was on my way home to my palacial mansion in Asheville when I spotted your plight. But if you want my continued help, I’ll need a small retainer.”
“I have some Clemson Ribs” offered Glapman
“That’ll do for now”. replied Mace

Chapter 20

The B-2 landed at the remote airfield in Northern Jutland and Lt. Col Ruffwood ordered Captain Scotts to deploy his gunnery crew.
“The wayback should land over there, in that building marked Hanger 18” Jussell told Scotts, “Don’t fire till you see the white of the foamy bubbles”, he added.

Choequist was no ordinary fool. He knew better than to go straight to the Hanger. After picking up Harry, he had picked up another passenger, at a Ramada Inn in Phoenix. Her name was Rouge and she was a Scandinavian sweetie who could make even the stoutest Viking warrior stouter; She could make the slackest sail on a Viking longboat suddenly swell; She could make even the most battle hardened viking even more hardened. She could make Valkeries ride off in jealous shame;
He landed the Wayback some distance from the center of the base.
“See that group of guys over there by the cannon and aircraft?. Take these bottles of Tequila over to them and introduce yourself” whispered Choequist.
“That’s all?”
“And just talk with em for about, oh say maybe 20 minutes or so”.
“Here, don’t forget these”, added Harry as he tossed her his speedos
“Ew, Uh, thanks, no, Mr. Wellboss. I can manage without those” and Rouge turned and sauntered over towards the B-2 and 12 pounder and the men manning them in her boots and jugs..er...fifths of tequila.
-----------------

Hawkeye and Bin-Jush had been driving for days, around Atlanta. Finally, the Pink Pony could stand it no longer. When they finally pulled off of I-285 near the Perimeter Center, Pink Pony walked up to them and introduced himself:
“Hey, My name’s Ron Jogers, Ya’ll look lost. Where ya headed?”
“North” was Hawkeye’s guarded reply
“And we’re not trying to destroy a fetchstick or anything” added Bin-Jush, “Really”.
“Hey, my friend Daryl and his brother Daryl are headed north. We know the way, can we ride along?”
Hawkeye eyed Spill Man: “Which one’s Daryl and where’s Daryl?”
Pink Pony whispered:”He’s a Texican Aggie”
“OHHHH” Hawkeye and Bin-Jush replied in a simultaneaous hushed whistle.
“Yeah, he’s a good fella, just ran into one too many trees on his bike.”
“Okay” whispered Hawkeye you and your uh “friends” can join us. Now how do we get off this stupid ring?”
“A few miles west, we take the I-75 north exit”
“Come then, let us be off” And with that, the fellowship of the Atlanta ring was born.
--------------
Sitting in Mikeson’s library in Asheville, Glapman and Kokopelli scanned the momento’s on the shelves:
A photo of Mace, Jimmy Hoffa and Elvis, togther, taken in Colombo, Sri Lanka in 1990; A photo of Mace on stage with Sinatra at Trump’s private birthday celebration in ‘92; A plaque honoring Mikeson as La Cosa Nostra Mouthpeace of the Year, Region V, 1965; a gold-plated cigar from Castro, dated December, 1963.

The door opened, Mace was yelling at his secretary: “Tell dos bums again, I freakin retired already, I quit da firm, and da cargo is still at sea witout a port! Unless somtin sudden would happen to me! And tell dat Tony Soprano to quit callin!”
Mace turned to his guests and smiled: “Hey, how youse guys doin? Freakin retirement my ass. I do em some favors from time to time and they think I’m still a freakin partner or somtin. Freakin Soprano thinks he’s a godfader, what a putz!” Mikeson turned back to his secretary, “And let that putz Ashcroft know I finished shredding my Enron files, except for a couple which I added to the cargo at sea!”
Kokopelli shot a worried glance at Glapman.
“Ouch, that hurt” thought Glapman,
Kokopelli shot him another worried look.
“Hey, cut it out, thought Glapman, then he read the worried messages:
“Mikeson and the mob own Miami and the Justice Dept. Mikeson and the Mob will blackmail Ashcroft from investigating Miami and they will dominate college football for years to come, unless we do something.”
“What do you fellows intend to do now?” asked Mikeson
“Oh rsfck”, thought Glapman, “Have I been thinking out loud again?”
“You idot!” thought Kokopelli
“My dear fellows, you were not thinking out loud and I cannot read your thoughts. What were you thinking?” replied Mikeson.
“My ‘Canes are good enough to win without outside interference”. added Mace.
Just then, the Glapsignal began to glow on the Glap utility belt.

Chapter 21

“Eurkea!” cried Reg Joffers at the Navy’s Biogenetics lab outside of Atlanta. His latest experiment seemed to be a success.
His earlier efforts, after failing to find the Red Elephant, had been mixed.
Breeding a Chow with a Spitz had only resulted in a hound that threw up a lot, while the Irish Springer Spaniel had stayed fresh and clean all day. And the mixing of the Great Pyranees with a Dachsund, a Pyradachs was a very enigmatic breed. But now he had done it, a terrier with a bulldog : The Terribull.
“This is too good for the Navy”, he thought as he dug out his little black palm pilot and punched in a number.
------------
El Goob approached the Czar in his private box at London’s ‘Her Majesty’s Theatre’ where the Czar was deeply enthralled in the performance near the end of Act I of ‘Phantom of the Opera’, the chandalier was about to crash.
“Forgive me, sire, We’ve located Glapman and activated his Glapsignal” whispered El Goob.
“Very good, have Alfred bring the Rolls around, I’ll be leaving at the intermission”.
Wow, He took that well, thought El Goob. It wasn’t often you could tear the Czar away from his annual pilgrimmage to London for a performance of the ‘Phantom’.

Twenty minutes later, Alfred was driving them west from central London on the M4, towards Heathrow. After downing a snifter of congnac, with a Shiner Bock chaser, the Czar was ready.
“Okay, where is Glapman?”
“In the vicinity of Asheville, North Carolina, and” El Goob hesitated, these British burritos always gave him problems,...ohh..ahh, “He and one of El Naranja’s subcontracted operatives, known as Kokopelli, are with Mikeson”.

“Mace? was that old SOB still alive?” thought the Czar. “That sommbitch had to be cheating when he beat me out of 500,000 francs at Baccarat in Monte Carlo back in ‘86. This called for a new direction.
Alfred, head north, to Scotland.”
“Castle Bellomy on Loch Aggie, sir?”
“Correct, Alfred”.
Uh oh, El Goob thought, Haggis burritos, RSFCK!

---------------


“Recon 3 to HQ, we have found their tracks” Ronny Tice hadn’t bargained on such a small bitpart when his agent signed him up for an appearance in the Kon-Sliki, and riding a snow mobile over the Carolina Appalachians wasn’t all that easy, especially without snow.
“Recon 3, what are your grid coordinates?” Callie and Looney hung by the receiver as their comm specialist relayed the message.
“Quad 5, section 21” replied Tice, “And there are a whole bunch of goat tracks, but they veered away from the human tracks. Three pair of human tracks lead off to north where they seem to have entered a Humvee that drove off to the north”.
Looney got on the microphone: “Follow those tracks! Rendevouz with Recons 2 and 7 at Quad 6, section 3. We are dispatching a chopper with a strike team.
Over.”

“Roger that” and Tice mounted up and and was about to head off in pursuit when he heard a voice behind him
”Me’sa help you, huh?”
Tice turned, his Uzi drawn
“No, No, put’sa gun’sing away! Me’sa just want to help”
Tice thought about pulling the trigger, but decided he could always cap this guy later, and a little help wouldn’t hurt.
“Who are you?”
“Me’sa Jar Jar Stevros. Me’sa know who you bees’a look’ee for.”
“How?”
“Me’sa see Boss Mace drive off wif two’sa peebles. Jar Jar banished by Boss Mace from Ashville after Me’sa knock over a stack’sa Boss Mace’sas vintage wine. Me’sa lead you’sa to Boss Mace”.
“Uh, if you don’t mind my asking, .....”
“Me’sa man, not a maminal! Also, me’sa never hook’sa on phoenics”
“Okay. We need to meet up with some of my friends, here.” said Tice pointing to a spot on his map.
“It’sa be not far, jus be over zat hill’sa”
“Come on, then”
Jar Jar Stevros got on the back of the snow mobile
“Me’sa think walking bee’sa faster, since be no snow’sa”
“Shut up”.

-------------------
Mikeson was suddenly summoned from the library by his pager to check his email.

”Uh, Glapman, your belt buckle is glowing” remarked Kokopelli
“My Glapsignal! I forgot about it.”
Glapman undid the buckle and pulled his belt off.
“UHHHHH DOOOOOOD!!!” yelled Kokopelli, backing up quickly
Glapman ignored him and started taling into the buckle, holding the other end of the belt to his ear.
------------
Mikeson logged on and checked his new messages: “Hmmm, a taunt from El Naranja......Miami season baseball ticket renewal reminder.......Latest update from the Viagra mail list....Hmmm, interesting, a message from Reg Joffers about a new Bio-Gen Project breakthrough” He opened the message, read it, then leaned back in his chair allowing himself a smile.
“I could probably find use for some of those” he mused.
He hit reply and began composing an offer.

----------------

Wellboss was keeping watch, while Choequist filled the Wayback/jacuzzi
“Hurry up, the second bottle of Tequila is empty and Rouge is running out of things to say” cautioned Harry
“Just about done... There. C’mon.”
“Right” replied Harry and he began to disassemble his Binford 5000SE telescope from the Binford 900XL tripod mount.
“RSFCK’n leave it” barked Choequist, “We can pick up another one, Hello, time travel?”
“Hey, that’s right” thought Harry, “I can get the new top of the line Binford 8000LX” and with that Harry jogged over to the Wayback and dived in.
The resulting splash sent waves of water over the complex control circuits of the Wayback, shorting out the GPS control circuit. In his haste, Choequist failed to notice the GPS failure warning light. Choequist activated the Wayback, intending to return to the spot where they had dropped off Rouge, but the kaboozled GPS sent them to a new location.....

 Chapter 22

Castle Bellomy stood on an island in the middle of Loch Aggie, dating from the 12th century, when the first chief of Clan Bellomy had built a bonfire there to dry out and warm up after swimming to the island to escape his enemies from Clan McDahmus. Over the centuries, a hut had been built, then expanded to a mott and baily then stone walls. The 12th Laird had imported a french designer who had turned castle Bellomy into a a cross between Versailles and Neuschwanstein. The current Laird, the Czar, had incorporated every modern technological convenience and security measure.
“El Goob, notify the Pink Pony to terminate his current mission, the Viking Explorers are trivial at this point, and proceed to North Carolina, post haste”.
Then, in his private study in the west wing, the Czar dialed a number.

Mace was informed of the call and picked up the phone
“Czar? is that you, I thought youze was dead?”
“Not Hardly, old chum”.
“Still bitter about Monte Carlo?”
The Czar could almost hear him chuckling.
“Not at all (you cheaten bastage, he thought), but you did seem quite lucky that night”.
“Well, luck favors those who are lucky and good”
“Indeed (you frickin jerk), we’ll have to have a go at it again sometime”
“I would welcome the opportunity”
“Great, perhaps late April, before the tourists begin to arrive?”
“Let me check my calendar and get back to you, but I don’t think that would be a problem. Should we include El Naranja?”
They both chuckled. El Naranja didn’t know squat about Baccarat and was an easy mark.
“Sure, why not. Oh, by the way, Mace, I understand you have a couple of guests”
Oh, oh, Mace thought. It sure didn’t take the Czar long to find that out.
“Why, yes, a couple of nice fellows who were lost in the snow the other day”.
“Well, one of them does some freelance work for me, and I need to send him some documents. You wouldn’t mind if I sent a messenger to deliver those, would you?”
“Not at all”
“Great. I’ll look forward to our match in April. Bye”
As the Czar hung up, Mace hit a button: “Security, go to code red and shoot anything approaching the estate perimeter”.
------
Glapman motioned to Kokopelli and using a combination of hand signals, facial gestures and a page of Mace’s stationary, conveyed a message.
“Why do you think the room is bugged?” asked Kokopelli
Glapman slapped his forehead and wrote: “Shut up, you idot”
Kokopelli realized his error, “Oh, uh, right, the Orkin Pest control bill on the desk”
Glapman wrote a longer message and showed it to Kokopelli.
Kokopelli read it: “Ive contacted the Czar and he is sending the Pink Pony to rescue us. Be prepared for a diversion”.
Kokopelli was perplexed and confused and dismayed. He knew of the Czar, but was the Czar on the side of his boss, Ted, who was a subordinate of El Naranja or were the Czar and El Naranja opponents. And where did this Mace fit into things. “I’m so confused” he thought.

--------------
Jussell and Ruffwood were ticked off.
Somehow they had missed Choequist and the news about Enron. Jussell just knew his energy commodity portfolio was totally rsfcked.
And now they weren’t getting any readings on the whereabouts of the Wayback machine. And Rouge and her Tequila were gone, too.
“Okay, Jussell, what now?” asked Ruffwood
“Well, we could take Caption Scotts and his gunnery crew to Paris and conquer France....or” Jussell stopped thinking in mid-thought which caused him to stop speaking
“France?” Ruffwood remembered his previous trip to Paris: ahhh, he and his wife, and .....the sewer tour....following that they had made mad passionate monkey love in an underpass on the right bank, until that limo being chased by paparazzi had swerved to avoid them and crashed. “I wonder who was in that car” pondered Ruffwood, “Oh well” They had then returned to the nearby Hotel Georges V and made more dignified love in a suite, until the registered occupants of the room had returned and ordered the conceirge to throw them out. Then they took the elevator to the top of the Arc de Triumphe and made...
“Or”, Jussell interjected, we could go to the Ipod race on Appletoonie, find a future Jedi knight who could tap into the force and bet on him and free him from slavery and have him help us track down Choequist”.
“Have you ever taken your wife to the top of the Eiffel Tower?”
“What?”
“Uh, I mean, Wouldn’t we be sued by George Lucas?”
“Perhaps, but I think its a risk we need to take, besides, Jar Jar Stevros has already been introduced into this story. There’s no turning back now.”
“Don’t we need orders or something?” asked Ruffwood
Jussell held out a shiny credit card. It was the Cheney Platinum Visa: “This is all I need. Get Capt Scotts and his crew onboard and have your navigator plot a course to Appletoonie. I’ll handle the flight plan and refueling”.
“Where is Appletoonie?”
“I’ll let you know when we’re airborne, but here’s a hint: Where do you find the best racing?”
Ruffwood could only think of one place: North Carolina.