Tiring of Georges bland attentions, Helvibot had Gordon knock up something more homey so she could have some company and conversation on her tea break

Digital Lunacy by Warrigal

So here we are in the control room of a spaceship called the SHITS 38B, B being for Biosphere. We have just whizzed round the moon at a million miles per hour and are heading back to an orbit near Earth so Gordon can teleport back to the surface. “Anyway” says Gordon, “Lets go and get you two dressed” nodding in the direction of Belinda and me. Having been so preoccupied with everything that’s been happening I glance down to see that I’m still in my bathrobe and slippers. I glimpse at Belinda and she is the same. As I turn to leave the cabin on a mat on the floor is a blue heeler. It can’t be. Zeb, the greatest dog of all time, yes, its Zeberdee. I race over too him. He sits obediently and puts up his paw just as he always does. “Gordon, how did you get Zeb here?” I ask ecstatically. “Sorry Sandy, it’s a droid made in Zeberdee’s likeness. The Fa…, oops Henry, uses this form when he needs to move around the ship.” But Zeb, I loved him, he was just the greatest, liked to wrestle and was the best cover fielder we ever had. “He can come with you as Zeberdee if you want, Henry doesn’t go out much” Gordon says, “Oh yes please, c’mon Zeb, you’re with us,” I announce with great affection.

With Zeb in close proximity, we head back to the manor to get some clothes on. As we walk along, I raise a tricky issue with Gordon. “Gordon” I pose “If the universe is in a box at the back of the science lab, it must be a pretty big box?” “Well no Sandy’ Gordon replies, “It’s actually quite small. You remember when you were six and your parents brought you those Hush Puppies?” Yes, I do remember, my first pair of Hush Puppies. I kept the box in the bottom of my wardrobe with all my favourite cricket cards. “Well it’s about that big,” Gordon reveals. I’m shocked, I mean that’s small, incredibly small. “So” I press unsure as to if I want the answer “How do you fit in the box?” Gordon starts looking a little bit agitated “Okay, okay, look Sandy, it’s beer o’clock and I need to get back to Earth for a few lagers. But look, I get schnitzelised. You pass thru a schnitzeliser as a 1.84 metre Meupian and then through the box as an object about the size of a sub atomic particle.” I knew I wouldn’t like the answer but being the idiot that I am I press on “Schnitzeliser?” “Yes” replies Gordon “A schnitzeliser, designed by our university professor T.D. Schnitzel”. Being unable to help myself at this stage, I ask, “So what does T.D. stand for?” “Ten Dollar” Gordon informs “So along with Chips and Salad they invented the schnitzeliser”. I can’t resist anymore “You mean Professor Chips and Professor Salad?” I ask waiting for a canning “Yes” says Gordon “How did you know that? By jove Sandy you are a dark horse.”

The rest of the trip is in silence as Belinda and I with the ever-faithful Zeb, ponder the universe existing in a shoebox in the back of the science lab and a machine that transmits people invented by Ten Dollar Schnitzel with Chips and Salad. Boy, some things about space just never cease to amaze me. Gordon stops and says “Well I’m off, see you when you get back”. He sticks his finger in his mouth and disappears. What the f…?

Dazed, we cross the village green, across the cricket pitch and enter the manor. George comes out to greet us. “Sir, Miss Belinda, you have a visitor”. No sorry, not possible, who could possibly visit us here. “In the sitting room” gestures George. Belinda and I enter the room, “Helvi!” Belinda cries, “Helvi, Helvi, Helvi” she shrieks.

Evidence of Aliens playing at Cricket

Digital Skullduggery by Warrigal

Gordon leads us out of the pub and down a small alleyway. We come to a door. Over the doorway is a sign “FARTS ROOM”. Gordon slides a card through the scanner and we enter. It hits me like a ton of bricks. We are in some sort of control room. We are IN space. The Earth is receding behind us and we are closing in on the moon. Wow, this is for real. My heart is racing and even Belinda, who has been as solid as a rock, is squeezing my hand hard.

“Yes, we are in space, different isn’t it?” says Gordon who has a cheeky grin on his face. “FART, this is Sandy and Belinda. They are off into space shortly so they will be calling on you” Gordon relates. “Afternoon Father, Miss Belinda” “Afternoon” we mutter nervously. “Look Gordon, can we call the FART by name? FART is a quasi-offensive term on Earth” “Certainly” Gordon says “What name would you like?” “I am model Vee.1.1.1 if that helps” interjects FART, “Lets see,” says Belinda “VIII, how about Henry as in Henry VIII?” “Certainly” says FART “Reprogramming, Central Computer Catherine, recognize FART as Henry, confirmed” reports FART. “Dead slow to the moon” Gordon commands. “Yes boss” replies Henry.

“So when you need to see Henry, come down the alleyway. Here’s your cards, these will get you anywhere on the ship”. Gordon hands Belinda and me a credit card each. “If you need to buy anything just use the card. It’s attached to my account.” “So Gordon when I get to these places you want me to go, how do I communicate with whomever I meet, won’t they have their own languages?” I ask. “Well sort of but don’t worry, everyone will speak English” “English? In the universe?” I gasp. “Yes, Sandy, English. I taught them English when I taught them cricket” Gordon replies. “So Gordon, what about your world, your dimension? Are you God? Did you create the universe? Are you a human? Do you speak English on your world?” “Sandy, Sandy, Sandy. Okay, look you’re right, I haven’t told you much about that part have I?” Gordon responds. “Okay, so let’s see. No, I’m not God as you know it. I’m a uni student who with a bunch of my class mates created the universe. The universe is in a black box at the back of the science lab for Astrophysics 101. I’m studying for a degree and my thesis is on Cricket in the Milky Way. Our sun is called Star T, our planet is Meup and I live on an island called Never Stop. Our capital is Running Hot and the major river is named Grown Men Cry. We use vehicles that ride the wind at double speed but believe me I’ll show you places that you’ve never never seen”.

“Hang on a minute, Star T, Meup, Never Stop, Grown Man Cry, isn’t that a Rolling Stones song?” I press annoyed that someone might be having a lend of me. “Well, I ran into Mick, we had a few drinks, back to his house for a jam, told him my story, next thing I know he’s got a number one hit, sheez, you just can’t trust some people.” Gordon bemoans. “Anyway, that’s enough about me, so will you do this trip?” I look to Belinda and I can see that glint in her eyes that tells me that I had better or else. “Yes Gordon” I surrender “We’ll do the trip. So where do we go?” “Good man Sandy, I knew you were up to it. Okay so take this, it’s the equivalent to an intergalactic mobile phone. First destination is Joon. The Bilbobs are playing the Aryans in the one day final. I’ll phone you with the next stop later. Keep and eye on the opener, Zim Away, promising young player, should be a great match, Earth thanks Henry” “Earth, dead slow Boss” says Henry.

George Doing His Duty

Digital Malfeasance by Warrigal

So here I am, on a spaceship that’s going to the moon. I have a butler called George, the beautiful Belinda as my companion and a control freak of a computer called Catherine. What am I in for? Who knows? Belinda and I go for a walk around the village and of course in its centre is a green with, you guessed it, a cricket pitch. Droids are moving back and forth dressed in rural style clothing and as they walk past they sing out “Morning Father, morning Miss Belinda” “Morning” we reply.

The village has shops, café’s, a cinema, several pubs and two restaurants. At the end of the main street is a river that meanders off into the distance. How does all of this happen in a spaceship? I mean the sun is shining, there is a light breeze, and clouds are moving across the sky, I am struggling to take this all in. We sit on a bench and watch the river flowing. Belinda holds my hand. Her warmth makes me feel better and I’m so glad she is with me. We walk back to the Bats Droppings to meet Gordon.

“Sandy, Belinda, over here” Gordon beckons. We look round the pub. People are sitting at tables and someone is selecting some music on the jukebox. A man comes around the corner of the bar. “Afternoon Father, Miss Belinda, I’m Michael, Michael Jones and this is my pub, let me get you a drink. Trotters for you Father and the young miss would like a tonic water” Trotters, how the f….? Well I guess I’m about to find out. “Delightful, thanks Michael”.

We get our drinks and join Gordon. “Gordon, I’ve so many questions, I don’t know where to start plus I only have 500 words to play with” I gush, totally out of my depth. “Well” Gordon begins “let me tell you a few things and then we can talk about it. Last night we teleported up to the ship on SPITS. You are living in the English Village bio of the ship. After lunch I’ll take you to meet the FART and Catherine the controlling computer. The FART will take us for a quick trip round the moon then I’ll get you to drop me off back on Earth and you can head off. First you’ll need this”. Gordon pushes a book across the table. The book is called ‘Space Navigation for Dummies’. I flick to the table of contents. It reads, 1. Avoiding BO, 2. Watch out for BOOBS, 3. When to use a GOAT. 4. Five questions you should ask a FART, 5. Things you need to know about Space Travel and 6. The Complete List of Space Acronyms.  It’s an incredibly small book for such a big subject. Gordon seems to know what I’m thinking “Okay so let me guess, small book big subject?” I nod passively “It’s pretty well all you need to know. Catherine runs the ship in conjunction with the FART and the Droids. You travel around the ship via the river. The river will take you to the other bio’s. Now Avoid BO” Yes I must say body odour can be intolerable at times “Body odour Gordon?” I ask knowing I’ll be wrong. “No Sandy, Big Objects. In space there are lots of Big Objects, avoid them at all costs”. “Boobs?” I ask and no, I don’t even want to go there even though boobs are my favourite subject. “Big Objects Out Back Side. If you have a Big Object Out Back Side then you are in trouble, really big trouble”.

“Gordon, whats a GOAT?” Belinda pipes in, “I mean you don’t sacrifice them at full moon or anything do you?” “No, my dear child a GOAT is a Giant Object Atomising Teleporter. It’s how we get big stuff on and off the ship”. “But Gordon” I question, “If I don’t need to know much about all this why there are five questions you should ask a FART?” “Well Sandy” Gordon responds “there’s an old saying, when you hit 50 never trust a FART”. Just as lunch is served, a cat enters the room and sits on one of the seats at our table. Gordon says “Sandy, Belinda, meet Catherine”. A cat, you mean to tell me that a cat runs a spaceship. The only good cat is a dead cat. “Good afternoon Father, Miss Belinda, I’m Catherine. When I roam around the ship I use this form, helps me catch any rats” she laughs wickedly. “Anyway, I’ll meet you later, see you”

The Game they Really Play in Heaven

Digital Amazement by Warrigal Mirriyuula

I’ve slipped through a crack in the floor and I’m falling, fast. It’s dark, I can’t see the bottom, ah shit, someone help me, aaaaarrrrggggghhhhh. I sit up in bed. Thank God or should I say thank Gordon, it was just a bad dream. I look around the room. Can’t say I recognize anything. The room is large and beautifully appointed. The bed is a four-poster with quills around each post. Belinda is next to me sleeping peacefully. The sun is peering through the window my eyes narrow as my brain is hurting from all of the fine wine consumed last night at the rectory. That brandy from Gordon, 200 years old, smooth as a baby’s bottom but man I’ve hung one on alright. What did Gordon say, space, cricket, shit, he was pulling my leg big time. Nevertheless, where the fuck am I? I don a robe and slippers that’s on the chair next to the bed and have an explore. Doesn’t look like the Rectory to me.

Out of the bedroom and down a passage way there’s another bedroom unoccupied. Adjacent there’s a room with two chairs but no window, how odd. Next is a sitting room/library. One wall is full of books. I take a closer look. Yes the usual villains, Hemingway, Tolstoy, Tolkien and ah yes, ‘By Way of Sainte-Beuve’ by Marcel Proust. Gee, 19^th century fancy boys’ giving each other a spanking, heady stuff. I open the cover and there’s an inscription ‘This book belongs to Helvi Oosterman, Christmas 1963’ that has been crudely crossed out and the words ‘Not any more, September 2009, Gerard Oosterman’ written underneath. Hmmm, is that Gez and Helvi from the Pigs Arms?

I walk out to the back of the house into a large kitchen, absolutely stunning. Cooking implements are hanging from hooks off a wheel attached to the roof. An incredible stove with every bell and whistle you can imagine. To the left is a cupboard probably the pantry. I open the door and there’s a man standing in there with his eyes closed. I scream at the top of my lungs. The man says, “Self activate”. Belinda comes running down the passageway and into the kitchen. “Sandy, Sandy, what’s wrong?” “Belinda where am I, what am I doing here and who is he?” The man responds “My name is Geo dot r dot ge” “Geo.r.ge?” I respond in shock, “Yes Sir, I am your butler”. I plop myself down on a chair at the table. “Sandy, its okay, we’re on the spaceship, we teleported up from the Rectory last night” Belinda informs me.

Last night, last night, the dinner, Gordon’s request, falling through the hole, spaceship, but this is a house, the sun is shining, and my whole world is in chaos, the only thing real is Belinda. “Yes we are in one of the bio’s, you know biosphere” Belinda puts me in the picture. “Gordon’s had this one designed to resemble an English village, this is our manor, Sandy this is soooo exciting, its fantastic” Yes. Fantastic but what have I got myself in for. “Gordon has booked a table for you both at 1300hrs for lunch, at the Bat’s Droppings, it’s a pub in the village. He wants to explain things. Now how about scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, tomato juice and black coffee, sound good?” says Geo.r.ge. I reckon, a shot of brandy in the coffee if you don’t mind. I need to get myself together, go along with it for the moment. Belinda seems comfortable with it all so let’s ride with it. “Geo old chap, look can I just call you George?”, “Reprogramming, Central Computer, Catherine, recognize Geo.r.ge as George, confirmed, most certainly Sir”. “Now tell me about that cupboard?” I inquire, “My recharging station Sir” states George, “Please call me Sandy” I request, I hate formalities, “Isn’t sandy a word used to describe a beach?” asks George. “Yes but in my world everyone abbreviates Alexander to Sandy. My real name is Alexander but just call me Sandy and we’ll get along fine. Now Belinda my sweet, did you say this one, meaning that there are other bio’s on the ship?” I ask. “Well yes Sandy, several in fact, each have a different theme but Gordon said he will tell us all we need to know at lunch” Belinda enlightens me. So lunch it will have to be. “Breakfast will be fine George, but how did you know that was my favourite breakfast?” I press, “I know lots about you Sir, oops, Sandy, we have been studying you and your planet for some time now” confesses George. “We? How many are there of you?” I ask. “299 to be precise Sandy, but Catherine has been studying you at length and she has programmed all of us Droids to know you”. “Catherine? Who is this Catherine woman?” I demand. “Catherine is the central controlling computer, she controls everything” says George.

O’Way Returns.

By: Hung One on.

God, Jesus H. Christ, long distance plane travel is boring, but I’m coming, home, yes,  coming, ho, ho, ho, hmmm, yes coming, ohh, ahh, oh yes [Stop, cut, Voice here, Look Sandy please don’t divert off the story with this silly innuendo about sexual experiences, okay? Otherwise none of my friends will visit this website, do you understand me?] [Okay, okay, I’ll stick to the story, sheez, I’m starting to get square bracket phobia] Anyway I’m headed home back to the Window Dressers Arms Pig and Whistle, a Trotters, my mates, can’t wait. Belinda left a few days earlier after a phone call from Glenda, her big sister, “Belinda, get home, Merv wants us to clean up the pub and anyway I’m sure you’ve had enough of him”

I enter the bar and am in heaven. Astyages is in the corner in his wheelchair due to his broken leg, “Sandy” he roars “You old bastard, Merv a pint for the good Father, put it on Emmjay’s tab”. “Thank you my dear poet, how the devil are you?” “Yes good Father although there are strange things afoot here in the shire, oops, sorry, wrong story, no everything’s fine Sandy. Now is that right that England won the last test by 200 runs? Sorry, what was that Sandy?” Okay, okay. Astyages and Jayell are in fits of laughter over their triumph.

Gez and Helvi come over and slap me on the back nearly knocking out my false teeth that I borrowed from Emmjay in London. “Good to see you old man, how’s the world?” “Stuffed Gez” I reply “No Trotters Ale and the Aussies lost the Ashes”. “Angela’s Ashes Sandy? I’ll loan you my copy, pipes in Helvi. “Different set of Ashes Helvi, thanks anyway” I retort.

Gez been won over (for a duck)

Merv approaches “Sandy, you dickhead, what happened at the Oval? Thought you was goin’ to streak? Save the game and all that.” Slight problem with timing, I mean I didn’t know that a Test could be over before five days, five days of tedium I might add. “Got busy Merv” I meekly replied, “Oh well, shit happen Sandy, wedges?” says Merv as he proffers some wedges. Hmmm, granny’s wedges, I’ve a penchant for wedges, especially vegemite and herring flavour, “Bewdy Merv” I splutter as I cram in a gob full.

Poms in victory

“Hey Sandy” Merv prompts “That Bish bloke, comes around here sometimes looking for you, mate, what actually is his name?” The Bish, oh no, not the Bish, looking for me, isn’t he on holidays? “The Bishop”? I inquire, “Yeah, The Bishop?” Merv presses “Bishop” I say, “Yeah, that’s right Sandy, the Bishop” Merv looks puzzled, “Bishop” I reply, “Pardon?” [Stop, cut it right there, Voice here again, for fuck sake Merv, you single digit IQ  knuckle dragging Neanderthal, Sandy’s trying to tell you that the Bishop’s name is Bishop, you tool, an amoeba has more brains than you] “Bishop Bishop” The bar roars with laughter. Bishop Bishop how terrible is that. Warrigal, who has been sitting patiently and is spitting out spurts of beer “Yeah I met a copper once by the name of Constable, Constable Constable”. Well the bar is alight now. Tears are rolling down cheeks and hands are delving into pockets for tissues. Algernon, who has been laughing so hard his face has turned red “Hey what about that guy in Catch 22, Major Major” The bar cracks up with laughter. Tutu, Glenda and Helvi decide to adjourn to the ladies lounge. “Sergeant Sergeant” “Judge Judge” “Richard Dick!” Ah yes the Trotters Ale is working a treat, no antidote needed here, these are my people, and to quote Steely Dan, I’m home at last, home at last….