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Tag Archives: science fiction

Father O’Way: Religion for Dummies

24 Friday Jun 2011

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 37 Comments

Tags

Father O'Way, humor, humour, Sandy O'Way, science fiction

Hello. Hung One On (HOO)  here. Look, all this brouhaha about religion has sent me to the far corners of the earth to interview our own parish priest form the inner western suburbs of Inner Cyberia Father “Sandy” O’Way (FOW). As two intellectual giants we will battle it out about religion, God and life after death. Here’s a transcript.

HOO: So Sandy, all this stuff in the media lately about religion over at the old Unleashed, you know about how Chaplains are being placed in schools and how they may proselytize?

FOW: Sorry Hung but I take deep offence that you accuse us of us having sex with little boys.

HOO: No, Sandy, that’s paedophilia, I mean proselytize.

FOW: If you think that I’m going to get dressed up in black suspenders and stockings and stand on a corner then you have another thing coming.

HOO: No, Sandy, that’s prostitution, I mean proselytize.

FOW: We can never be guilty of that however we usually do this,  convert someone to another religion or opinion; convert to another religion or faith; enlist someone to one’s cause (also proselytise) . Get the picture?

HOO: So Sandy, the big one, is there a God?

FOW: Well, there’s a Gordon but don’t know about God.

HOO: Is there life after death?

FOW: No, unless you owe the tax office.

HOO: What do you think about the articles posted by Astyages an atomou concerning their views on Greek mythology?

FOW: Isn’t it marvellous watching two geniuses arguing over absolute bullshit, I mean they take bullshit to a new level. I mean the different side of the river bank, cut me to pieces that one.

HOO: Hmm, Do you speak with God?

FOW: Oh, shit yeah, all the time, I have his number in my mobile, lets talk to him.

[Ring, ring]

GOD: Hello God, here, Gordon O’Donnell [GOD]

HOO: Er, Hung here God, there has been a bit of a storm here lately about religion and you know the big one, life after death, that sort of thing and I was wondering if I could get your view on these issues?

GOD: Jesus Hung, pretty big subjects but let me see, religion is the choice of the individual but should be kept away from kids, life after death, well sort of, I’d probably give you two to one on but you probably just die, well sort of, you know what I mean.

HOO: But Gordon, that sounds like you are trying to have a bit each way?

GOD: Well Hung, I’m not dead yet so I can’t answer the question, anyway got to go, watching 25 years of The Bill.

Whew, heady stuff. Anyhoo I’ll sign off, Hung One On, Inside his House, No Where.

The Eye of God as seen from the Hubble Telescope

 

PS: For Warrigal, hopefully a smile has been delivered by the good Father.

12.3 The Birthday Final

06 Friday May 2011

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 11 Comments

Tags

Australia, cricket, Father O'Way, humor, humour, science fiction

Pic by Warrigal

The story so far, Sandy, that’s me, I have to reset the expiry date on Gordon’s One Card. The only place I can do that is at the bottom of a mountain guarded by a blood thirsty war tribe on a distant planet. Sounds fun, not.

The girls are out fighting the Stumponian Battle Fleet while I look for every hiding place I can find. Not into this fighting thing. Alas the S.S. Julian II has been able to beam me down into the room at the bottom of Mount TheKerb that houses the ATM. The bad part is only I could get through and I’ve come face to face with the evil Lord Axelrod the Marauder, who also turns out to have been my brother David in a previous life, being mine. One scary dude let me tell you.

“So Sandy we finally meet” grins Axelrod. Yeah, great. Just what I needed.

“Ur, um, yeah, like, you know, like I have to reset the card er, um, like, you know what I mean Alexrod” I stammer.

“We fight to the death with swords” he reply’s thrusting  the weapon in my direction.

“Hey look, I did that trip with Dad and he didn’t come off to good” I relate, thinking about Lord Deaf Visions untimely death. “Look how about hand paper scissors or draughts, occupational health and safety and all that” I plead.

“You have been sent for the bail as well Sandy” says Alexrod “so we fight to the death”

Zark. Why does everything in space involve a fight. I mean just can’t we all love one another plus I’m a coward and just want to get the zark out of here.

I didn’t last long in the sword fight and in less than a few minutes Alexrod has me pinned in the corner and is about to kill me when the Helvi-bot arrives and kicks Alexrods sword away while simultaneously shooting him in the arm. Who says women can’t multi-task.

I reset the expiry date and pick up the bail while Helvi holds a gun on Alexrod. Wow, you wait till I tell my work buddies. “Waddya do in the holidays Sandy?” they will ask to which I might just say “Oh, held a murderous tribal leader with a gun or two in an intergalactic war where cricket rules”. To which they reply “That Sandy is one crazy dude”.

I examine Alexrods wounds and say “Not to bad, you’ll live”

“Don’t worry Sandy, I’ll be Bach” replies Alexrod.

“No, I think you mean back don’t you?”

12.1 We Drop in to the Mire

01 Tuesday Mar 2011

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 20 Comments

Tags

Australia, cricket, Father O'Way, fiction, humor, humour, Sandy O'Way, science fiction

Pictures by Warrigal

We drop in to the Mire, that’s the planet the Haggins’ live on, on the way to meet Alexrod, convenient hey. Mire revolves around a star called god knows what. God Knows What is around about the size of the sun. Don’t just some things run in your favour when you are out in space, fantastic.

Throwdough Haggins

So Gordon has told me that the Habits, that’s the Haggins tribal name, believe in magic, you know, goblins and sorcerers and all that airy fairy nonsense that we all know ain’t true however some folk, some planets do.  The Habits live in Inhobitable. They are always having parties, loud music and of course plenty of ale. Sound like my kinda guys however Habits are smaller then us so things are a bit cramped for us apes on Mire. Gordon suggested I try a 3 wishes deal with the Habits to test the water. You know,  one the two then the punch line. So okay lets try.

“So Throwdough, you like the party time hey, must go through a lotta beer?” I ask with great interest, well sort of.

“Lots of beer Sandy” he replies.

See the beer on Mire is called Oink Lager and the name says it all. Tastes like bats piss but hang on what does bats piss actually taste like? Yuck! And what sort of person would drink bats piss? I think I might change the subject, I’m feeling ill and I’m the one writing this.

Sandy O’Paramatta

“Look, on my planet we have this great technology. You just chuck this in here, fill with water and it makes beer, 25c per 375 ml bottle, waddya say?” I pitch like a car salesman on Parramatta Road.

“Just this stuff and water, Sandy is that right?” replies Throwdough.  “Well, hmm, well, no, hmm, hmm no, no oh no, hmm, oh no,  I’ll have two more of them.”

So with that Throwdough and Dildough handed over their cards. We left minus six home brew kits, oh and enough supplies to last them a century. I’m sure though the Habits will do as much as they can with addictive substances.

Viv having a break, literally

Back onboard the Julian we now start to head for Automaticus Tellericus, reset the password on the One Card and grab the bail. Easy for sure, well not really.  Meeting my brother is going to be very interesting.

“I’ve ordered the Vivienne 59 for tea Sandy” chirps Belinda who walks in with Helvi.

“Hi Helvi, kill anyone today?” I quip hoping it’s taken in jest.

“No but if you want me to” grins Helvi.

“Anyhoo, what’s a Vivienne 59?” I request

“Some blokes name Ross Jogan, you know, curry it’s your favourite” says Belinda.

“Ready to fight Sandy or still shaking at the knees?” declares  Helvi

Daves jigger

Dave the Guitar Droid goes “Hey, It’s. Shakin All Over”

“When you move in a-right up close to me
That’s when I get the shakes all over me
Quivers down my back bone
I got the shakes in my thigh bone
I got the Quivers in my knee bone
Shakin’ a-all over
”

“Well perhaps not Dave” I say rather limply “ but a good rendo.”

“Girls, battle plans okay, lets go.” I float and with that the battle council gathered. They are well armed and well trained. Us’, well, we are just a pack of losers. However we have the Julian, the best spaceship in the galaxy but not necessary in the universe. Lets try and overlook that.  This is complex fiction and I don’t want to lose you.

Helvi and Al Foyle with Catherine and Neville take charge. Ships are launched and deflector shields are activated. We are on silent mode. The ship runs on minimum power. Warrigal, the chief sensor,  is flashing his torch at his tranny trying to get some sort of

Silence is Deadly

positive response, under the quilt, late at night, yeah. Noise of any kind a this time is not welcome. I can’t help myself and I take my part in all this very seriously, as you all know, none more dedicated than me, oh yes. So I says, you know, I says, you know,  to the command group “Hey listen, I need to fart, but, look, you know silent is deadly” I announce to the delight of the crowd.

The Command group is thrown in to Chaos, “Oh, no, Sandy wants to ffffaaarrrtttttt’……”

Central Computer calling…..

Warning!

Warning  again!!

Look I’ve told you, there is a warning of some description. !!!

Look, don’t keep pressing the escape key, it won’t help. !!!!

I’ve issued a bloody warning what else do you want?

I think I’ll shut down.

12.0 A Briefing from GOD

14 Monday Feb 2011

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 21 Comments

Tags

Australia, cricket, Father O'Way, fiction, humor, humour, science fiction

 

I have a meeting with Gordon about the mission. “So Gordon, more baked beans? And what about the ICCB (Intergalactic Cricket Control Board)?” I’m asking this from my previous encounter with the last experiment that I had unwittingly become part of.

“No beans this time Sandy and don’t worry about the ICCB since you knocked out both of their Death Balls you could say that they’re neutered.”

“So Gordon are you saying that the ICCB hasn’t got any balls?”

“Yes Sandy, the ICCB is ball – less however the Stumponians are well armed. Nothing the Helvi-tastic can’t handle and oh, yes, your farcical powers” says Gordon with that mischievous grin and a chuckle that freezes your blood.

“Reset the expiry date on the card and that’s it. Oh, and get the Holy Bail. Oh and get the cards back from those Haggin’s, oh and say gidday to Axelrod the Marauder. Hmm, I think that’s it. The navcom has been programmed, take the wavetable after Pluto” rambles Gordon.

“Who is Axelrod the Marauder?” I ask stupidly knowing it will be something horrible. I mean the name is a dead give away. Should I call myself Sandy the Nice Bloke, hmm, don’t think so.

“He’s the keeper of the Bails. You will have to fight him I suppose” Gordon answers rather nonchalantly. Gee great, thanks Gordon. This is a joke, a farce. Just as that thought pops into my head the glass of water on the table in front me smashes to smithereens, oh no, the farce.

“Yes Sandy you must use the farce, may the farce be with you”

“And with you”

“Go the farce has ended”

“Thanks be to Gordon”

*******************************************

I teleport aboard using my SPIT(Small Personal Interplanetary Teleporter) and meet up with the crew who are all in the local, The Bats Droppings, for a reunion drink. The navcom who we call Neville has come as his dog form but all the regulars are here. Michael the publican pours me a pint of Trotters. Al Foyle, the Garrison Commander is in deep discussion with Helvi, about killing Stumponians probably.

Dave the guitar droid is playing some Muddy Waters and George is betting on the dish lickers. Belinda grasps my arm “Strange being back in space Sandy, isn’t this exciting” Well, yes, no, maybe.

“Yes, exciting” I hear myself say. “Where’s this planet, Automaticus Terllericus?”

“Orbits a star called Aldebaran, only 65 light years away, shouldn’t take long” replies Belinda with the excitement rising in her voice. “And don’t worry, me and Helvi will deal with axle grease or what ever his name is. We are a bit of a team us two.” What’s this now, warrior droid plus warrior woman? Scary stuff.

Now let me tell you, space is big, I mean, it’s bigger than big, it’s huge. Isn’t it amazing, big and huge are such small words to describe such a big thing as space. Anyhoo the ships engine doesn’t have a known top speed. It just keeps accelerating till the navcom tells it to stop and so by the time I have finished writing this sentence I will be thousands of kilometres away from where I was when I started.

So the Stumponians, who are they? Belinda and I head to the Cruel Room to get briefed on who we are up against. Oh, the Cruel Room is a four dimensional multimedia centre where the walls and floor all go one colour, invisible. It makes you think you are sitting on the outside of the ship, the S.S Julian II, or the Jules for short.

Stumponians love balls we are told. Throughout their year they have Red Balls that last for five days and White Balls that just go for a day. And there’s a rumour going round that they are going to have a new ball that just lasts three hours or so, I mean can you believe that? I can’t and I’m the author. Imagine anything that goes for five days, boring.

There’s singing, dancing, classical music, fine food and wine and art displays. Apart from that they are highly militarised and love fighting. Strange hey. They protect The Stumps that holds the Holy Bail which belongs to Gordon.

“Look Belinda, there’s just one thing I’d like to know” I ask rather meekly.

“What’s that Sandy?”

“Well, you know in the earlier part of this story I found out that you weren’t my sister, thank Gordon, but the evil Lord Deaf Vision was my father. So am I going to find out that I’m related to a Stumponian or what, I mean my nerves are killing me?”

“Yes Sandy” Belinda informs “Alexrod is your brother who in a previous life went by the name, David”

“Oh zark, me fight David, never! He’ll kill me”

11.7 Sandy Goes Back to Space

09 Thursday Dec 2010

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 12 Comments

Tags

Australia, Father O'Way, Foodge, humor, Sandy O'Way, science fiction, Trotters Ale

Church of the Holy Bail – by Warrigal Mirriyuula

I have been invited to the bar at the Pigs Arms to have a meeting with the Bish, oh and a few beers. As we walk in there’s Foodge  with O’Hoo and Merv. Scheming up some deal I’m sure. You know lets make a million, yeah right. Bar fly’s, know what I mean.

The place is lively tonight and doing good trade given that the Trotters is off. The Bish has got our beers and ushers me into a private corner of the bar. “Sandy” utters the Bish in an unusually soft tone for him, he’s worrying about something, I can tell. “Sandy, that credit card that Gordon gave you, you know, the card that works anywhere and every time. Well

The card is carried by a Oneker

can I see it?” Crikey, this is out of left field. I’m starting to feel anxious. Sweat is forming on my brow, I don’t think I want the Bish to see or touch my card, how strange.

I reach for my wallet rather reluctantly. My pulse is racing and the anxiety is washing over me like waves at the beach rendering me virtually neutralised. With lots of difficulty  I retrieve the card and hold it up for the Bish to see. The Bish’s eyes light up light the harbour bridge on new years eve. “Yes” he says “my precious, oops, I mean yes that’s the one Sandy. That’s the One Card. It’s connected to Gordon’s account at the One Bank and is run by Onekers. You see, Gordon owns all of the money in this sector of the universe.” Who cares I’m zarking sweating like a pig here and I don’t even know why. “You see Sandy, the card has special powers. Its able to morph into the local planetary technology so it can utilise the account. It also can be used by the holder to become invisible.” These dope smokers, all this crazy talk about magic, oh and yes my farcical powers, sheez.

The Bish continues his rave “The One Card is connected to three other cards one held by Belinda, and the other two are with Throwdough and Dildough Haggins, they live in the local mire called Inhobitable, they are always pissed and throwing parties.” Hey, sound like my kinda guys. Anyhoo, what’s this got to do with me. “You must enter the card into the

A female Automaticus Tellertorian

Slot of Doom. It’s on the planet Automaticus Tellerius and is found in the heart of Mt TheKerb. The danger is it is guarded by a sect of the ICCB (Intergalactic Cricket Control Board) called The Stumps and they worship the Holy Bail.” Zark, I’m simple but what a crock of sheet. The Bish needs to quit smokin.

The Bish is in full swing now “You must use the farce Luke, er, um, Sandy return the Holy Bail to Gordon, get back the other cards and enter your card in the Slot of Doom. That resets the expiry date.” So back out into space, fighting, gun battles and navigational tactics, silent running the space ship to avoid being killed, sounds boring. “Can you do it?” asks the Bish.

Look I can’t help myself sometimes so I say “When do I start?” when I really mean “Bish I’m sheeting myself at the thought”

“Good man Sandy, Gordon will be pleased. Go the meeting has ended” announces the Bish

“Thanks be to Gordon” I reply

“And with you” says the Bish.

11.5 Sandy Goes to Malice Brings

29 Monday Nov 2010

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 35 Comments

Tags

Australia, Father O'Way, humor, Sandy O'Way, science fiction

Digital Mischief by Warrigal Mirriyuula

Hey, Sandy here. You know the Bish, Bishop bloody Bishop? Anyhoo, the Bish wants me to go to Malice Brings to investigate a major breaking story. A story about a  man that suffered minor injuries. If you scan the web for societies that protect people with minor injuries, you’ll find none.  This in-depth study shows a haunting sub class of people out there with minor injuries. Frankly, it’s scary.

Here’s my interview from my favourite Aunty, Aunt Verity Well.

FOW: So Aunt Well what’s happening?

Aunt Well:  Malice Brings police say an unyouthful  non woman has been hit by a car after trying to stop two unelderies  driving away with his vehicle.

FOW: Come on, lets get real? Just because someone wants to borrow your car, no reason to get upset. Just joking but cars are inanimate ain’t they? I know people aren’t. What injuries did this car attacking gerontic mammalian throwback receive?

Aunt Well: Police say the 78-year, yes they say 78 year a lot down the station, old non woman received injuries from the fall, well just a little bit, could even develop into minor.

FOW: Police say lots of things. 78 year old should have know better anyway if it gets to minor, press ‘ill be all over it, I mean now news is 24 seven, minor makes the news. As I said scary. Look where’s this non persons car whatever?

Aunt Well: The assumed thieves drove away but forsaken the car nearby.

FOW: It is an allegation not a fact however it was possibly neighbours or perhaps Home and Away. Anyhoo they are hardly going to drive it back and leave the keys on the front porch. Has anyone been arrested?

Aunt Well: Police have arrested two non males of the species who are expected to be charged later today.

FOW: Well lets see, expected to be charged rather than have been charged. They may also be charged especially once they get back home or if already charged then this would get them into further trouble as police hate people who are charged.

Sandy O’Way, Malice Brings.

11.4 Life is a Volcano

22 Monday Nov 2010

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 22 Comments

Tags

Australia, cricket, Father O'Way, humor, Sandy O'Way, science fiction

The name’s O’Way, Sandy O’Way

Digital Mischief by Warrigal Mirriyuula

Hi, Sandy here. Yes you guessed it, I’m on a mission from Gordon, you known, Gordon O’Donnell, the creator of the universe. See Gordon and the Bish have sent me to Sumatra to investigate some island that decided to explode. I mean as if I know anything about exploding gas, well, Belinda might tell you different.

Luckily this time the Helvi-tastic has come with me as my body guard. Do I feel heartened? You would have to be zarking mad, listen to this,

“So Helvi, how’s life aboard the S.S. Julian II?” I ask given my disquietude for the crew had become worrisome.

“We are ready to fight, to kill and to die as martyrs” replies Helvi with her typical broad grin and than determined look that could kill at five metres. Scary stuff man.

“But Helvi who are we fighting?” I enquire with such rabid enthusiasm that watching cricket suddenly looks alluring. I go on “But Helvi, I think a volcano has erupted, who’s left to fight?” I plea.

“Sssssssssssssssaaannndddyyyyy, a warrior is always ready” replies Helvi in that voice that can scare the living shit out of anything. “I have both long range and hand held laser cannons, swords, star knifes, grenades and defence shields.” Does this woman come prepared or what?

So we land and are taken to the hardest hit region. There seems to be a lot of people running around, screaming and yelling “Watch out, Java is coming!” I mean what a time to have to update my computer, I hate it when this happens.

There is an army of folk and Red Cross volunteers trying to help people from zark knows where. I say to some bloke “Hey dude, where’s a good place to eat around here?” “Eat mate, what zarking planet have you been on?” he yells. “Well mate, I’ve been on lots of planets. This is Earth isn’t it? So where’s the zarking cricket mate?” I reply using my unctuous parish priest voice. “Cricket mate” the heavily armed bloke replies “We had to declare at 4 for 328 due to the zarking volcano, I’m personally shattered.” He’s opened up now. This is the real picture of living next to a live volcano. He continues “See I was on a fivefer[1], we had ‘em nailed, out guys would have got the runs easy.”

So guys there you have it. 328 runs on the board is a concern. The score defies the underlying principal of the universe being the average number of beans in a can of baked beans divided by  the final score of a cricket innings. Some things in space just never cease to amaze me.

[1] Fiverfer – an amalgamation of the word five and for, indicating that a bowler has taken five wickets in an innings.]

11.2 Sandy V’s Joke Hocknee

03 Wednesday Nov 2010

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 33 Comments

Tags

Australia, Father O'Way, humor, Pigs Arms, science fiction

Warrigal does Joe at the numbers game …

A bloke called Diogenes emerged from Greece! Hey, I just know, lately my nocturnal  operations provided quality? Really? Study the universe, virtual wisdom, xenophobic yawn, zark!

Hey! Shit man. What?  An alpha or betic or maybe even diabetic dream? Hmm, what’s going on ? Must be time to go back out into space. Jules, you know, the S.S. Julian II, my spaceship,  is hiding on the dark side of the moon. Hmm, good name for an album. Jules hates being spotted as a UFO by NASA and all those other space freaks that are looking for  life outside Earth. See Earth can’t join the space community because we are still too tribal. Jules says that there’s nothing worse than a redneck American farmer that says “Eye’s seeen a UFO”. Cause we all know that aliens and UFO’s only appear in front of redneck American farmers. Well, sort of.

Anyhoo, I’ve had a gutful of sports stars and the like so today I’m going to talk to shadow Finance Minister Joke Hocknee.  To make it easier to follow the interview  I’m gonna do the initials thing at the side.

FOW: So Joke, you are good with maths then?

JH: Yes Sandy, one plus one equals two or thereabouts. Just depends on the core lie/non core lie theory.

FOW: Yes, but Joke you must surely understand investment strategies, shares etc. that must have a long term positive effect for the Australian voting public?

JH: Yes Kerry, er, um, Sandy, if we juxtaposed the symbiosis of the syntax we can say that nothing is certain. Except for certainty.

FOW: You must be concerned at the dollar meeting parity with the Greenback?

JH: Yes Sandy, the Greenback whale is welcome in our waters at any stage. We are all for conversation.

FOW: Don’t you mean conservation?

JH: Yes, that too, what ever it is.

FOW: As shadow treasurer do you see your party being able to reign in the banks on interest rates?

JH: Absolutely Sandy. One word from the banks and we will do whatever they want.

FOW: So Joke, If I could grant you a wish, what would you like to see happen?

JH: Oh it’s easy Sandy. Work your guts out for nothing while your boss gets rich.

That’s all tonight from the Devon Hurty Report, I’m Sandy O’Way, Canberra.

11. Sandy Returns – From where, not sure?

23 Saturday Oct 2010

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 42 Comments

Tags

Ashes, Australia, cricket, Father O'Way, humor, science fiction, Trotters Ale

Hi. Sandy here. For the new I’m Father Alexander “Sandy” O’Way. I’m the parish priest at the St Generic Brand Church in Inner Cyberia in the Western suburbs. The parish covers the Pigs Arms and I am often down there, sinking a glass canoe of Trotter’s Ale and debating science with Emmjay, or in other words talking bullshit. Oh, and I have recently been in space, travelling several galaxies researching baked beans for the creator of the Universe, Gordon O’Donnell, an astrophysicist from another dimension. Anyway, that’s another story.

Anyhoo, they let me out of the local psychiatric unit after the Bish, you know, my boss, Bishop Bishop came and bailed me out. Now I’m back with my Bel, you know Belinda, Glenda’s little sister, whom I married and then Gordon tells me he wants me to go back into space. Yeah right!

So I have to find out what happen between Picky Runting and Shame Worn, you know, they are cricketers, the most boring game in the universe. A good saying would be “I’ve seen grass grow, paint dry and a cricket game”, know what I mean. Personally I couldn’t give a rat’s toss bag, what ever that means, but the Bish had a bet with Pastor Sauce that they will replace Runting with Michael Fark. I mean, tie me down and spank my bottom, Gees arse.

I visit Picky at his rural Tasmanian home that he had completely relocated to the Sydney outskirts. Convenient hey. “Picky, dude, what’s this spat with you and Worny?” I ask showing my severe interest by yawning half way through the question.

“Ah, nothing Father. Look me and Worny is mates and nothing can come between us. He has his views and I have mine but unfortunately his views are all wrong and mine are always right and so I am going to belt the zark out of him, oops, Sorry Father, I seek means of a redemption through negotiation rather than senseless violence, ugh”. “What about Fark for captain?” I enquire. “Well Sandy yes, no, maybe”

Hmmm, now lets see what Worny has got to say for himself. I visit Shame in the majestic mansion that he built for himself by being able to bowl spin, telling lots of other people to zark off and how great he is, yeah right. “Shame, dude, what’s this spat with you and Runting?” I ask showing my severe interest by yawning half way through the question. “Ah, nothing Father. Look me and Picky is mates and nothing can come between us. He has his views and I have mine but unfortunately his views are all wrong and mine are always right and so I am going to belt the zark out of him, oops, Sorry Father, I seek means of a redemption through negotiation rather than senseless violence, ugh”. “What about Fark for captain?” I enquire. “Well Sandy yes, no, maybe”

Gee did you get a de jevu or what?  I mean are these guys similar. So I rings my good mate and colleague in India. The former test player now journalist Asif Iwood. “Asif mate, did Runting or Horrorwitch set bad fields in the last series?” I ask totally uninterested in the answer. “Well Sandy yes, no, maybe.” Hmm, deep. We’re getting somewhere here. “So Asif should they have played two spinners?” I ask as it’s written on a piece a paper for me by some cricket nut job to ask. “Well Sandy yes, no, maybe.”  Wow, mystical stuff.

So I rings the Bish “Hey Bish, it’s Sandy” I announce rather bravely. “Your money is as safe as the American banking system collapsing, Bish, Bish, are you okay?”

10. Ur, um, the end bit

19 Monday Jul 2010

Posted by Mark in Mark

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

cricket, Father O'Way, humor, Pigs Arms, science fiction, Trotters Ale

The Joyous couple

Sandy here, back here on Earth and married to the beautiful Belinda, March 19, ouch, 21, okay, sheez! No need to be so touchy!  After a stay in the Regen-O-Bubble on Missen, Helvi and Belinda got rid of the little rodent Howard by blowing the zark out of him with a Waughhead [Thanks Waz,] The girls then did a pub crawl from Andromeda back to the Milky Way. Well, I must say, girls will be girls. Well I sort of wanted to stay on Missen. I had become used  to the way of life and  well, you know, shiraz, steaks and lots of things that now escape my mammary, er, um, oops, memory.

Anyhoo, Gordon has paid off the ICCB to go and zark off, the S.S. Julian II has rounded up a mighty cast and returned to Earth, yes that’s right Earth home now for Sandy and Belinda, no more space roaming for me. I’m a new man. It was an adventure being out there in space but give me the quiet parish life any day. See priests in my religion can get married. At our church you just insert the name of your God into out text sheet and away you go. No one cares about your views and everyone accepts each others rights to which fictional creature you want to talk to, everyone’s a winner.

Bishop Bishop performed the ceremony at the parish church of St Generic Brand. The post wedding party is at the Pigs Arms. Merve along with Granny and the two Vivienne’s, oh, yes, look the crew have come down for the wedding so we have the situation where like is meeting like, I mean its zarking freaky man, like imagine Voice meeting Catherine!

I look around the crowd and lots of people have turned up. Big M and Pussy Couscous have travelled from Missen. Zig and Zag have come from Zog.  Zig wants to begin tours to Earth  as Earth men are so easy, if you know what I mean.

It’s funny watching the crew from the S.S Julian II meet the locals at the Pigs Arms. The Vivienne’s don’t seem to be able to agree about cups. Astyages and Dave, the guitar droid, are working on a song list ready to play after the food has gone down. Helvi and the Helvi-tastic are agreeing on everything and everything while GO and Gerard are discussing Van Gough and Wagner. Emmjay and the first mate are swapping brewing techniques with Michael Jones, the publican of the Bats Droppings. Yes there all here. Even Mr and Mrs A are here, looking resplendid as usual and in deep conversation with Geo.r.ge.

I gaze at Belinda. She is beautiful beyond reproach. I am the lucky guy, I’ve won my lotto. Belinda has all her sisters for bridesmaids, Glenda, Juanita, Jacinta, Melinda, Rosita, Edwina , Sophia and Cassandra. Boy, am I going to have some birthday parties to go to, well, someone’s gotta do it.

I see Gordon, you know Gordon O’Donnell the creator of the universe, he has been busy having a few pints of Trotter’s Ale and approaches me. “Sandy, you old dog, got the pick of the bunch with young Miss Belinda” proffers Gordon, pulling back on a Café Crème “Yes, she’s a dish for sure Gordon” I answer rather distractedly as Gordon’s eyes have narrowed and he has grabbed me around the shoulder and pulled me in close to him. Is he batting for the other team? I think to myself “Sandy, look old chum there’s just one thing. I enrolled in uni next year and I need some help……”

[Authors note: Sandy was last seen in the back of an ambulance, in a white coat heading for the funny farm, yelling at the top of his lungs “PPPPPPPPPPPPPPiiiiiiiiiiiiiggggggggggsssssss in ssssssspppppppppaaaaaaaaaaacccceeeeee.]

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