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(electric tomato)
07/04/01 10:36 PM
Re: Pop Goes The God - A story with Bowie in it new [re: SugarPlumFairy]  


There are many important lessons to be learned about living on the Sun. One of them is to never walk around with bare feet outside. Another is that it is especially difficult to grow ferns there, there is such a thing as too much sunlight. Evil Pop didn't mind, he didn't particularly like ferns. It's one of the many signs that a person is evil if they don't like ferns.

The other day Evil Pop had learned another lesson, when you want to eat an ice-cream on the Sun, eat it quick. His ice-cream had melted in a fraction of a second leaving him with a feeling of loss which he hadn't had since he was a small alien.

This misadventure had made him reflect on his life. His reflections had eventually wound up on his old foe David Bowie.

Most people had thought they were close friends. Including Bowie himself. But there was a secret side to their relationship that was so bizzare that no one would ever have guessed it. Except for Angie, but fortunately for Pop she considered it not bizzare enough to publish and so it went untold.

When David and Pop were young, Pop used to have David's creativity sucked out of his tongue and implanted in him. Yes, he was a Parasite Pop. It is a little known fact that the man with the power to suck, The Great Blaather MbBlenzy, had actually invented a new kind of candy based on his experiences - The Lolly Pop.

Getting the job done had been no easy feat. It usually meant getting himself, David and Blaather into the same dark room together and convincing David that tongue sucking was what all the hip rock stars were doing these days. This came to Mick Jagger's surprise when David tried to do it to him. It came to Angie's surprise when she walked in on David sucking Mick's tongue.

It is a little known David Bowie trivia fact that the original lyric to "Suck baby, suck, give me your head" was "Suck baby, suck, give me your tongue" before Blaather, through Pop, interjected.

Pop cut his reminiscing short. The meaning of life was on fire. While putting it out he wondered if Blaather's assistance had arrived yet, and he wondered how his Iman android was coping.


David was on the way to the airport with Iman and the baby. He was, to tell the truth, a little shaken. He'd just been attacked by a midget that seemed very fond of him indeed.

This was very strange. Midgets in general didn't usually like him at all.

David excused himself and went to the bathroom. He had something he wanted to read in private.

When in there he checked himself in the mirror. His newly growing beard was patchy and sad looking...and now it looked even worse.

He locked himself in a stall, not to relieve himself (for we all know rock stars and famous people just don't do that sort of thing don't we? Especially not David Bowie), but to read the piece of paper Mrs Earlobes had given him before they parted. This is what it said:

beardoalbumnonfishatus - a derivative of the beardo plant of South America, it is an hallucinogenic drug whose main property is to cause amnesia in the user. The amnesia can be controlled by the dosage and time it is taken, it is especially useful in making patients unaware that they have forgotten anything important. Side effects include hallucinations, loss of apetite, thirstiness and loss of beard.

"So that's why I've been so thirsty lately", he said to himself, flushing so as not to appear suspicious or conspicuous.

He returned to his family a troubled man, ignoring the pink monkeys swinging from the handrails above him, just focussing on the psychedelic patterns flowing and moving on the carpet below him.


Bobby Malone had never seen a head explode quite like it before, and he'd seen his fair share. He could swear it almost looked like exploding cardboard, and would have dismissed it as some wierd priest thing had the cutout not fallen out of the window and fallen to the floor.

The falling cutout seemed to mock him as it swung to and fro on it's way down. He preferred the WUMP of a heavy body dropping to the floor, not this cheerful floating playful cutout display. It almost looked as if it was happily waving to him.

This made Malone very mad.

"No more ice-cream today kiddies!", he announced, but the sad, sad faces made him relent and sell a few more choc-chip covered treats before he left to find a phone to call his boss.

People would always be telling him to get a mobile, but he was one of these traditionalist hit-men that was of the opinion that style was the most important part of the job. He pulled out and turned the corner of a street two blocks down just too late to see a priest in the distance, darning his socks while running like crap, all the while carrying what looked to be a fairly hefty knapsack.

His ice-cream truck tune played it's not-so-ominous warning to all those who either feared his wrath, or felt like an ice-cream.

I am not a cockturd

(electric tomato)
07/09/01 09:35 PM
Re: Pop Goes The God - A story with Bowie in it new [re: PHOENIX]  


The instructions were explicit. Nyartholep was never to be woken while napping.

Gus tip-toed and danced around his bed, waiting, hoping for a miracle. Surely any second now he would awaken, he couldn't nap forever. That proverb was so true, a watched Nyartholep never wakes.

After a few more seconds had gone by Gus thought to himself, "That's it! I'm going to have to accidentally wake him"

Gus walked past the bed and "accidentally" tripped, thumped to the floor, and yelled bloody murder.

Nyartholep didn't stir.

Gus then decided to "accidentally" set the bed on fire. Then changed his mind, perhaps that was going too far.

It would have to be marbles. Gus grabbed the bucket of marbles lying beside Nyar's bed and slowly tipped it over his sleeping head, plonking a few marbles off his noggin and then ending with a deluge of marbles not unlike a waterfall.

"uuughhhehh.....ehem...arrr....what? What happened?", Nyartholep had awoken.

"It was an accident", Gus said, "Sorry. Oh, by the way...there is a...err...THE great Blaather MbBlenzy on the phone for you sir"

"Who the hell is Blaather?", Nyar enquired, all the while having a certain sinking feeling, he thought he had heard that name before, and that it was very important.

A few moments and a glass of milk later, Nyartholep was on the phone.

"...No No, you did fine..."

"...you are NOT an idiot..."

"....No you're not..."

"...it happens to all of us, no-ones perfect..."

"...now that's just silly..."

Meanwhile Gus had slinked off to the bathroom to read a certain letter, a letter that perhaps could save the world.


Father McKenzie had made it to the train station. Socks darned and all.

He had this strange feeling. He felt like an ice-cream. He also wanted to eat an ice-cream which was a much more normal thing to feel. Perhaps if he ate an ice-cream he would stop feeling like one, the fear of being licked by passers by and of melting was getting too much to bear, especially when people were trying to get you.

Hazily, quietly at first, like out of a dream, a jingly jangly tune wafted out of the din of the streets. A tune that is apt to send children into a borderline psychotic state, a tune that Mr Whippy, the ice-cream giant, had researched and found to be irresistable to all who would even barely tolerate ice-creams. A tune that had even ice-cream haters thinking, "hmmmm...I could just about go for an ice-cream about now"

The jingly jangly tune got louder...and louder...and all of a sudden Father McKenzie saw the ice-cream truck race past him. He took up pursuit, waving and hollering, sprinting, running for an ice-cream he could nearly taste.

Inside the truck Malony could hear someone shouting behind him, he could barely hear, but it sounded like, "iiice creeem, stoooooop", he turned his tune up to try and drown it out, he was growing more and more tired of people asking him for ice-creams.

McKenzie's world was entering a new state of consciousness. Suddenly the jingly jangly tune drowned out everything, and everything he saw or thought about was an ice-cream. His entire field of vision had turned into an ice-cream kaleidoscope and he feared that he may just have the ice-cream madness.

Malony could hear it even louder now, the man screaming, begging, pleading for an ice-cream. He stepped on the gas, turned off his tune and put on his walkman, next time he was definately going to use the sewage van, people didn't seem to bother him as much then.

When the tune stopped so did McKenzie, panting and gasping for breath. Walking ice-creams turned into normal people, and he no longer felt sweet and cool, he felt quite sour and hot.

He bent over, trying to catch his breath, and as he did he noticed he was standing outside a newsagents. Catching a glimpse of the headlines plastered outside he suddenly stopped panting and stood transfixed.

"David Bowie a nazi?"
"For sure this time?"
"We have the scoop on his
latest starring role in
Tarantino hate film"


Of all Buddha's teachings only a few were never written and lost forever. One of those was, "Never make film deals in crowded noisy nightclubs". It was never written mostly because his followers had no idea what he was talking about, neither did Buddha for that matter. The advice seemed out of place and out of time, a wrong number from above if you like.

A message that David Bowie had learned the hard way. This was the fifth deal he had made in a noisy crowded nightclub, and this time it had gotten him into real trouble.

Iman and the baby slept while the train went clickity clack, but David wasn't tired. He was full of regret and worry, he was a man with a lot of explaining to do, with a true story that sounded like a lame excuse, it's something that has happened to us all at time to time.

Of course not many of us have accidentally signed on to star in a fascist propoganda film, on the mistaken presumption that it was a film teaching us of the dangers of drugs, maybe only half a dozen at the most, but underneath the names and places, the situation remains the same.

"So what's this film called? What's it about?", David had screamed at Tarantino.

"Nazi Supermen Are Our Superiors", Tarantino had screamed back, Techno music blaring all the while.

"Pasta Supersauce and Mother Superior? Cool!", an unusual name for a movie, but that is what made it sound so interesting.

"It's about thugs and the master race!", Tarantino screamed, his voice getting hoarser.

"About drugs and Melrose Place? OK I'm in!", David had signed right then and there. The next day the world was after his blood.

"I need to be a better listener", David muttered to the back of the seat in front of him. His gaze shifted down to a book in the compartment built into the back of the seat. The title startled David, which in turn frightened quite a few of the pink monkey's away.

The title of the book was, "How to be a Better Listener, and Allow Things to Fall into Place"

To be continued...

I am not a cockturd
FENIX - 3/7/2001

(crash course raver)
07/10/01 02:14 AM
Re: Pop Goes The God - A story with Bowie in it new [re: PHOENIX]  

He he...this is getting better and better.

Do we need Terry Pratchett and Douglas Adams anymore?

Recycle your sigs!
I'm the return of the Thin White Duck

(electric tomato)
07/16/01 05:30 AM
Re: Pop Goes The God - A story with Bowie in it new [re: SugarPlumFairy]  


It started with a sprinkle as it usually does. Then a steady pitter-patter. Then a deluge from the heavens. It just wasn't The Great Blaather MbBlenzy's day, in fact, he'd already had his day a few years back and he figured that was all he was going to get, and even that day hadn't been so great.

Blaather trudged through the rain. There was no point in running, he'd probably slip over and get all muddy. Just as he thought that he slipped over anyway and got all muddy, and bit his lip to boot.

The laughter of that evening was still ringing in his ears. In the end he had seen David stand up and depart the train station bar. He had to do something quick, he had to rely on his quick thinking and speed, of which he had very little.

What he did then surprised even himself, he simply rushed over and tried to jump on to the rock star. Fortunately David seemed quite dazed after his conversation with "Mrs Big Earlobes" so he didn't react quite quick enough to stop him, but Blaathers jumping skills weren't too spectacular. Tongue sucking midgets just can't jump. So he ended up clinging to David Bowie's waist, trying to climb the man as a cat will try to climb your leg. As he got closer to his face he puckered up and accidentally made a slurping sound as he reached with his lips for the tongue his mission depended on.

He thought it was the slurping sound that shook Bowie out of his dazed state. All of the sudden the prospect of this midget crawling up him wasn't so attractive anymore.

"shoo! shoo!", David hissed as he swatted at Blaather diligently, all the while people laughed and pointed as always. Some clapped thinking it was some kind of show.

Blaather ran, he was nearly in tears. Why had he been let down? Was it his fault? Yes. Probably it was. Blaather had never been able to do anything right.

Now he walked on towards his meeting with the blasted fiend Nyartholep. He was scheduled to meet him 15 minutes ago at the "Boogaboo to you!" coffee shop to discuss a change in plans. All Blaather wanted now was a change of pants.


"The Moon?"

Constable Reale was having a hard time doing this interview. The pieces just weren't fitting together, and when they did the picture didn't match. He decided to stop doing his jigsaw puzzle and concentrate squarely on his questioning of one Q. Tarantino.

"You say you planned to shoot this movie on the moon? Why on Earth would you do that?", Reale reiterated, for some reason Tarantino was often losing focus.

"Not the Earth man...The Moon!", Tarantino said, placing extra emphasis on the word Moon.

"Why Moon?", Reale responded slowly and clearly.

"Cause it's cheap for one thing! I mean, who else films on the Moon? Can you name me one other Moon movie nigger?"

"You know Quentin, your constant use of the word nigger isn't helping you much here."

"It helps me speak to the people man! Anyway, can you imagine the slow-mo action with nazis jumping high in the air and moondust flying around as bullets hit the moonscape?"

"How the hell were you going to get to the moon anyway?"

Tarantino leaned over as if to tell a great secret, he whispered, "Iggy knows a way, and I know Iggy man!"

Reale had just about had enough, "Come Quentin, out with it, who sold you the drugs?"

"Why Iman of course man! I didn't even have to buy them, she gives them out for free man! That Iman is one groovy chick!"

As Tarantino said this Reale swivelled around in his chair, and focussed on the calender hung up on his office wall. It had a picture of Iman on it, and her face beckoned to him. It seemed to say to him that they would meet one day, fate would lead him to her. All he needed was to get rid of that blasted Bowie.


Bowie read his newly found book, a book which gave new meaning to the word serendipity. At first he had thought it was some kind of self help book, which would have been ok, he needed a lot of help himself. Then as he read further he found himself lost in a tale that sung to him as if it was him.

It was a tale of a lost civilisation from Mars. A civilisation that had their sterile environment threatened by the growing of trees and the spread of harmful oxygen. Everywhere water was becoming clean and new life forms where popping up. This just wouldn't do.

What could they do to stop this spread of life and diversity? Some of the leading Martian environmentalists thought the wise option would be a kind of planetary suicide. They figured that if a blast big enough was maintained for long enough then Mars would be knocked out of her current orbit and this would spell the end of life on Mars. The plan was roundly applauded and accepted by everyone, except for one being, a being who believed that the less control beings tried to exert over their world, the more things fell into place.

This being was locked up for a very long time. Long enough to witness the death of his beloved planet. Long enough to realise that all he knew and loved was gone. Long enough to ponder to himself, "Why the hell am I still here then?"

All the sudden little Alex cried out. She'd soiled herself, and David didn't blame her, a pink monkey was sitting awfully near.

"shoo! shoo!", David waved the book at the dastardly monkey, and accidentally threw it out the window.

"Well that's disappointing", he thought to himself, and left with Alex to change her. There was only another 20 minutes until they would be at the airport, and the good feeling he once had was not with him anymore.

Perhaps Iman had some drugs that would help with that.

Water which is too pure has no fish

(electric tomato)
07/18/01 04:28 AM
Re: Pop Goes The God - A story with Bowie in it new [re: PHOENIX]  


Father McKenzie bought a ticket to ride, he didn't care where he was going, and this was probably better, it would make his movements unpredictable. When you reached McKenzies age your it was quite easy to make your movements unpredictable, so a random train ticket ought to do the trick.

He'd dragged his knapsack to this deserted train station as darkness descended. Carrying his newly bought newspaper under one arm.

He'd pinched the newspaper since he had no money to pay for it, then asked the lord to forgive him. Untrained in the art of stealth he simply yelled to the newsagent, "LOOK OVER THERE!" and pointed as he grabbed the paper and hobbled away as quick as he could dragging his napsack. A napsack that had gotten heavier and heavier as his journey continued.

Apon opening the napsack the sight which greeted him nearly made him wet himself. He forced himself to put the bucket of water he was holding onto down and pay attention to the situation he was in.

"Nice bucket of water", Evil Pop chimed with a chesire cat grin.

"Nice suntan", McKenzie chimed back.

"Sorry to hear about Ms Rigby", Pop half whispered, replacing the grin with a pretend look of sadness.

McKenzie shrugged, he hadn't known her very well.

"Well", Pop began to look distracted and irritated, "I must be off, I have an important meeting to attend...it's all falling into place you know?"

"Don't you want to kill me?", McKenzie looked confused.

Pop shrugged his shoulders, and sauntered away with a laugh. "Too much time on the sun", McKenzie muttered to himself, and had a little giggle to himself.


Gus waited as instructed by the No 4 Bin outside the bus terminal on Bragoot Street, and was promptly clobbered over the head and kneed in the groin. He was then set on fire, put out, and set on fire again. And put out again.

He was then chained and dragged 800 yards, attacked by four angry German Shephards and clobbered once more.

Four masked heavyset men threw him into a waiting van which sped off. While in the van he was repeatedly strangled, tickled and punched.

Upon arriving at it's destination the men threw him out of the van, whereby he was attacked once again by the four German Shephards, then chained and dragged for 900 yards this time. He was set on fire once more and put out again.

Then he was left alone for a bit, to rest.

When Gus eventually came to he found himself lying outside an old run-down shack in a swampy type area. A note had been left on the door - "Ring the Bell"

He did this, the bell making a pleasent ding-dong noise which was a little out of place for a run-down shack. John Lennon answered the door.

"OH MY GOD...YOU'RE JOHN LENNON!!!!", Gus screamed. Not a second passed before someone with a camera popped up over a hedge and snapped a picture of the two of them.

"Twenty one fucking years!", John snapped, "Twenty one years and some idiot butler goes and breaks my cover, thanks a lot dimwit!"

"I thought you'd be much nicer in person", Gus said, standing his ground, affirming his right to scream when thought-to-be-dead celebrities sprung up out of shacks.

"Get in here now!", John said urgently, "and sorry about the rough treatment, we had to make sure you didn't remember which way you came, or who brought you." He grabbed Gus and pulled him inside.


At the "Boogaboo to you!" coffee shop Nyartholep looked at The Great MbBlenzy with scorn. Why was this guy so great? All covered in mud and soaking wet, with a bloody lip. All sad and teary, he had a look of guilt and failure that was unmistakeable. It was only when the tears came again that Nyar put away his scornfull look and pretended to comfort the soggy midget.

"There, there." It was all he could think of. He patted MbBlenzy on the head and wiped his hand on his waistcoat. It was alright since it was a gift from his evil brother, and he never gave very nice gifts. In fact, the mud made it look a little better.

"Nice waistcoat." MbBlenzy said, trying to get the conversation into more comfortable areas.

"Thankyou. It was a gift from my brother." Nyartholep smiled his false smile and looked at his watch.

"Would you mind buying me a lollypop?" MbBlenzy uneasily asked.

"What!?" Nyar could hardly believe his ears, but MbBlenzy had no chance to answer. In strode Evil Iggy Pop.

"Hey guys, I'm bored, lets send this race...away...far away...in space and time", Iggy had arrived. Nyartholep closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his hands. Mr Pop was also completely nude.

"What did I tell you about walking around nude in coffee shops?", Nyar daringly asked.

"Hey man, not tonight, tonight is my night, tonight I do things my way." Immediately after saying this Pop was being escorted to the door, Nyartholep had to intervene with one of his hypnotic mind spells to stop him being ejected and arrested.

"Things are a lot more easy going on the sun y'know?", Pop said sneeringly. "Anyway, I knew I could count on you Nyar, I knew you still had the right stuff. Now where's Mr MbBlenzy?"

"errr...The Great MbBlenzy actually", MbBlenzy said quietly.

Pop looked him up and down. "It's gonna be a hard days night boys."

Water which is too pure has no fish

(electric tomato)
07/20/01 04:43 AM
Re: Pop Goes The God - A story with Bowie in it new [re: PHOENIX]  


At first he thought that they'd won the cash bonanza. Lights flashed, sirens wailed out, Bowie could even swear he heard a champagne cork pop.

A word popped into his mind - "Pop"

He looked around and saw that Iman had just passed through the metal detector, and the detector was going nuts.

A phrase popped into his mind - "Made of mindless metal"

He stood back and allowed the guys with their variety of probes, sticks and spray cans to harass his wife. He also reminded himself to bring something metal next time so he'd get some attention from the probe guys. A voice inside his mind told him, "You did, you did bring something made out of metal"

He watched fascinated, and fantasised about the attention he'd get when he brought something metal to hide from Mr Probe and his probing gang of probe police. Then he saw something which made him forget about probing, and think about the state of his marriage. Iman had proceeded to take each of the airport probe men in her arms and give them a long french kiss.

The kissed men seemed cheerful, which was understandable. They also seemed to have forgot what their job was for they waved Iman on without so much as a probing, in fact they just started to wave everyone through. One of them decided to run through the terminal shouting "The Grey Ferret Gives The World a Million Reasons to Dance!!!" David thought this was slightly odd.

Alex interupted his thoughts, she was arriving through the X-ray machine which Iman had put or on, placing her on the supermarket-like conveyor belt. Perhaps it was time they had a talk.

Another thought passed through - "Strange Drugs"

Out of nowhere a beagle came running. The beagle seemed happy with his work, wagging his tail, yet not getting too distracted. Until he came to Imans bags that is. He promptly started barking and howling like a maniac dog until his airport officer came and put a hand on her shoulder. Iman then gave him a french kiss, and David was close enough to notice a strange odour coming from her mouth.

The officer immediately sat down on the floor and started playing solitaire. Iman then kissed the dog (David had to turn away from this), which began sitting next to people arriving and shaking their hands. "Maybe a psychiatrist, or at least some self-help books", David pondered. He'd bring it up later.


Malony had just hung up the payphone. No time to change vans now, he'd just found out that McKenzie was on the 7:45pm train outbound from the station down the street. Luckily his nephew Vinnie worked in the ticketing office and had called Don Micardo with the tip. Things had certainly fallen into place well.

He looked at his watch, 7:44pm. He'd never make it before the train left, but these ice-cream vans had been built to run at terrific speeds to outrun young ice-cream obsessed boys and girls. He may just be able to catch up to it, or head it off at the next station.

Malony sped away and in no time had the train in his sights, he drove by each carriage checking out the windows for a sight of that black suit with it's white collar.

Inside the train Father McKenzie was just beginning to relax. He was getting farther and farther away from the man trying to kill him, and he was convinced that Evil Pop had finally gone bonkers. He didn't know what the place was, but whatever form it came in, everthing was falling right smack bang on top of it as if fate divined that it should be so.

He let out a yawn, had a stretch, and looked out the window. What he saw caused him to spit out his false teeth and have some unpredictable movements. An ice-cream van was speeding along on line with his carriage. On it's roof a reminder of the statue of liberty was placed, a hand holding aloft to the sky a cone filled with icy cold goodness.

Malony could see the priest was shocked to see him. He waved and fumbled with his violin case. When he next looked up he could see the priest yelling something at him. It almost looked as if he was screaming "Ice Cream!!"

Then bad luck, he had to slam on the brakes as some stewards came to comfort him (with a tray of ice-creams no-less). There was too much danger in being seen. It would have to be the next station then. Malony would be ready, there was no escape for McKenzie this time.


Reports were flooding in of strange happenings at the airport. Reale had a cops instinct, and his instinct told him that he should be there as soon as possible. He didn't mind a bit of strangeness anyway, he'd once spent a whole month eating only custard as a dare.

He drove his unmarked car out of his lot, leaving his paperwork that needed doing. "Ohhh, naughty", he jumped up and down on his seat, he'd never felt so alive, never so much of a rebel cop in his life. He now considered himself a rogue cop, no-one better mess with him or they may just get some stern words and a fierce look. Reale was the precincts fierce look champion three years running so this was bad luck for the lookee.

It didn't take him long to reach the departures lounge where he was greeted by a throng of people crowding around watching something going on. He considered shooting randomly into the crowd and then remembered what his boss had repeatedly told him about that. He didn't want any more demerit points.

"Flight 239 for Paraguay now boarding" a pleasent voice imformed everyone.

His instince told him that he should be on that flight. This had also happened before many times, he'd once found himself in Beijing with no idea of what he should be doing there. At lease he had a nice buildup of frequent flier miles, only $600,000 more of tickets and he'd have himself a free clock radio. He decided to forgoe whatever nonsense was going on here and get himself on that plane.

Water which is too pure has no fish

(electric tomato)
08/08/01 10:11 PM
Re: Pop Goes The God - A story with Bowie in it new [re: PHOENIX]  


The year was 1926.

THE STRANGEST LIVING CURIOSITIES was the promise that was promised by the promising and faded sign. Inside were such oddities as "The Man With the Child in His Eyes", who was even more freaky than those people who can bug their eyes right out of their sockets. This Man had a living child floating in his grotesquely large eyeballs. He needed contact lenses as large as dinner plates.

Also there were the supermen, godlike creatures that had done everything that could be done a million times and had thought every thought a billion times. They had not only read everything that had been written, they had put to paper at some time or another every concievable combination of every concievable langauge making every concievable novel. They even wrote this when they were in a bit of a rut. All they did now was talk of suicide.

The show was a secret that only the special people on this planet knew about. Special meaning stars, presidents, kings and dastardly clever chickens disguised as kings.

Appearing as a special guest, on this the show's 3000th anniversary, was none other than a man known as David Bowie. His origins were unknown, his age was unknown. He was similar to the man who had come to the show to kill him, the man known as John Lennon.

John was feeling a bit under the weather. Hypnosis can do that to a fellow with seven brains. The real trouble was that John was so peculiar that he sweated purple sweat, and he was starting to sweat right now. He could only hope that he would be taken as one of the oddities. His hearts pounding, he continued on in his quest.

In a deserted corner a young Father McKenzie got ready to immerse himself in his tank with his trusty bass guitar. Underwater bass playing by priests hadn't really caught on yet in the Twenties. Some said he needed a gimmick, a pyrotechnics display or something. Oh how the monks would have laughed, for the word pyrotechnics in their holy language had a rude meaning.

Elsewhere an old old Quentin Tarantino licked at his ice cream.


Blaather got on the bus and pushed his fare on the counter while standing on his toes.

The bus driver leaned down and informed him that he was "only a wee lad, so tiny!"

"Thanks, I needed that", Blaather sullenly replied.

He headed down the aisle and spotted a pretty young lady with beautiful eyes looking his way. She smiled, and mouthed "Hi" at him. He smiled back.

Just then he dropped a dollar, which rolled back up the ailse. Blaather chased after it and tripped landing in an elderly woman's groceries. The woman shrieked at him and pushed him into the lap of and elderly gentlemen who screamed "OH NO! MY BRITTLE BONES!!!". Blaather then apologised, getting off him.

Then his pants fell down.

"This is why I'll never end up with a date in my life", he thought to himself. After all, first impressions were important, as were second, third and fourth ones. His calculus teacher had often told him that "n" impressions are important.

He sat down in the only spare seat left completely vacant, but was amazed when the pretty girl came and sat next to him.

"You are cursed you know." she informed him.

"Yes, by everyone I come across." he seriously replied.

"No, I mean someone has put a curse on you, you are blessed with a curse that could catapult you to the stars if you decide to come with me." She smiled at him again, and wiped the mud from his cheeks.

"Can I suck your tongue." was the unfortunate reply.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that." was the fortunate reply to the unfortunate reply.


David cursed his damn rotten luck. The inflight movie was "Just a Gigalo". This was rotten luck indeed, what were the odds that the movie shown on an overseas flight would be "Just a Gigalo" and not "What Women Want" or "The Animal".

"We will be gods on nightflights" he crooned softly to Iman. Iman proceeded to hand him some pills.

"Here, take these" she told him.

"What if I don't want to take them?" David said sulkily.

"Then you won't get any ice-cream!" Iman scolded him.

David felt his chin. It was as if it was clean shaven. He looked for the monkeys, there was only one now, hanging on outside his window. He felt thirsty.

"Take them" Iman said, her voice lowering in pitch.

Just say No - David's mind was in conflict now. Something just wasn't right. What was it? Should he do what Iman says?

"Take them"

David thought back to his Bromley days. They had all watched a film about peer pressure.

"Take them"

He remembered all the recording studios in the early days. He remembered the media. He remembered his accountants.

"Take them"

He remembered EMI America. He remembered "Never Let Me Down".

"Take them"

He remembered the words spoken to him about offers made.

"Take them"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!! NO MORE!!!" His scream made the last monkey flee in panic. Iman didn't flee, she grabbed him by the head and proceded to force his mouth open. If he ended up swallowing these pills he knew that something horrid would happen, something that didn't involve monkeys.

to be continued...

"Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God..."
Walt Whitman

(cracked actor)
08/09/01 01:00 AM
Re: Pop Goes The God - A story with Bowie in it new [re: PHOENIX]  

Chapter 26

In reply to:

"The Man With the Child in His Eyes"

Been listening to a little Kate Bush have we?

Looking for a moment that'll never happen. - kb

(crash course raver)
08/09/01 08:49 AM
Re: Pop Goes The God - A story with Bowie in it new [re: Tristan]  

Yes, I've been decorating the story with numerous song references and as KB is one of my favourite artists you can expect a few more

"Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God..."
Walt Whitman

(crash course raver)
08/13/01 03:39 AM
Re: Pop Goes The God - A story with Bowie in it new [re: PHOENIX]  


A searing sharp sudden pain drove itself into his forehead.
Father McKenzie sat bolt upright and winced like he had never winced before, instead of scrunching his facial features up he opened his eyes wide and stuck his tongue out while inhaling sharply. He was pretty sure that he should go back to his normal mode of wincing next time.

He'd eaten his ice-cold ice-cream much too quickly and now had a brain freeze. He still had not gotten ice-cream satisfaction, he had rushed the whole chocolate covered snack and it had caused him to swallow much of it whole. He had actually felt it slide down into his belly which made him feel most uncomfortable. When McKenzie ate something he liked to imagine that it just disappeared from existence, the thought of all the food he ate being mushed and dissolved inside of him seemed very offputting. He'd never fully come to terms with having a stomach. Some good advice to those who crossed him was to never ever even mention intestines.

As he slowly recovered and his brain unfroze the train he was riding in came to a slow stop. The two events almost seemed synchronised, as did the tooting of the train's horn and McKenzies shock discovery. Outside the station, (which happened to be in the town of Station, making it Station station) was an ice-cream truck. The priest greedily decided that he'd hide out in the town of Station for a while and get an ice-cream on his way out of the station from the truck that was stationed there.

He grabbed his knapsack and dragged it down the aisle bruising various passengers on his way to the exit. The train's conductor stopped him at the door.

"Sorry, you got a ticket to Exmouth lad, can't let you off yet"

"That's just silly", Father McKenzie answered incredulously.

For one of the few times in history, a man in charge actually saw sense in what a customer said and agreed. "Sorry 'bout that, I'm going to talk to the manager on Monday and see if we can't make things more flexible". McKenzie suddenly realised that the world was falling apart as he walked down the stairs.

Then he stopped realising this as splinters flew every which way around him. He started to realise some more unpredictable movements were on their way as a glass train window shattered above him. Then he really realised that he better stop realising things otherwise his realising days would be over. He was in the open, with no place to hide.

The conductor screamed "all aboard!!!!" even as the train started racing out of the station giving no-one a chance to even imagine boarding it. He felt a bullet wizz by his ear. No other place to go but into his tank, luckily for him it was bulletproof, if only Martha was still alive, after all the arguments over whether making the tank bulletproof would ever be useful he had been right! It was almost worth being shot at to win that damned argument.

McKenzie took the tank out of his bag, climbed the side, and then he was in. Then he wasn't in anymore. But he wasn't out either.


Nyartholep had always counted on Gus. He considered Gus his personal servent and slave. He punished him frequently, often only because Nyar was in a bad mood. Gus was on call 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Never had a holiday. Never even had a day off. Nyar made Gus cater to his every whim and desire. Gus bathed him, Gus read to him, and if Nyar was feeling particularly tired Gus chewed his food for him.

Now Gus was gone. It just didn't make sense.

Nyartholep wanted a cup of tea. He was pretty sure he had all the things he needed. Cup, teabag, spoon, milk, kettle.

Now what first, what first...

He eyed the meaning of life in a shoebox sitting on the counter. Like a winning lottery ticket he didn't want to lose sight of it for too long. This conquering the rule caper was more stressful then he bargained for.

Alright, he supposed that the obvious thing to do was heat up the tea-bag. He turned on the gas flame and dangled the tea-bag over it. The tea-bag burst into flames, things were already not going to plan. As the flames reached up for his hand he flung the bag away which landed on the meaning of life in a shoebox, which caught fire.

Nyartholep started running around the kitchen. "ooooh! ooooh!", he made panicked noised and flung his arms around. He had no idea what to do in such a situation. A cup of tea would calm him down, but he had neither the time or the tea making expertise to accomplish this.

In the end the problem sorted itself out, The meaning of life in a shoebox simply burnt down to ashes. A relief of sorts for Nyartholep, whose house and contents were not insured.

No time for tea now. Nyartholep had some homework to do. He sat down at his typewriter and started to type what he pretty much gathered what the meaning of life was. He was no poet or scholar, in fact he had no writing skills, he wasn't even very bright. But he was fiendishly evil, not that this helps much in writing the best thing that can ever be written.

He thought back to grade 4 English class...."never start a sentance with And"....That would have to do, he had little time, and a pair of shoes to buy.


Bowie could feel her ice cold grip unclasping his jaws. He had to think fast, and think smart. He decided that he would roll down his window therefore creating a flow of air from the pressurised inside to the outside which would suck Iman out of the plane and save the day.

Just as he reached ever so slowly for the window lever they were interupted by a neatly dressed square jawed man who was well built.

"Hands of that switch!" he said and glared at David.

"It's a lever actually" some people are just so dense said/thought David at the same time.

"You leave Iman alone!" the man upped his glaring a degree to show he wasn't bluffing, he had more glare up his sleeve.

"I wasn't going to touch her, just felt like some fresh air" he just may be dense enough to buy it said/thought the singer/songwriter.

"Mr Bowie, I've come to take my destiny in my own hands and take what is rightfully mine, let her go" said the man which was strange as Iman was sitting on top of Bowie with her hands around his neck.

Iman turned to the man, "Take these and be mine forever", she handed Reale the pills in her hand and smiled a seductive smile. Reale had an inner conflict of World War proportions before recognizing one of the drugs.

"BEARDOALBUMNONFISHATUS!!, Iman, I'm sorry my love, but you are under arrest!!" This was Reales biggest bust ever, the first seizure of this terrible narcotic. Who knows, maybe a romance would blossom between them as he led her to the straight and narrow, they would have children together, live in a house in the country with ponies and wildflowers, sit on the porch drinking ice-cold champagne as the sun set, look at the stars at night in between making love and talking about endless dreams...

Bowie opened the window and Iman proceeded to fly out into the silky ink-black darkness...

"SON OF A BITCH!!", was the understated cry of a man who has just realised how slippery a thing your future can be.

"Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God..."
Walt Whitman

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