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[The following short story was originally published on this blog in 2010. I am republishing it now due to the overwhelming number of requests that I do so. Ha! Nah. I'm doing so just to make it easier for Br'er Marc to find.]
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A few days ago, I posted here at 'Ferret-Faced Fascist Friends' a new installment (the 7th in the series) of ‘Sex, Tattoos & Violence R Us’. In this latest edition, I had a bit titled “Funny-Sounding Verification Words”.
As
you may know, on some blogs, when submitting a comment for posting, you
are required to type in a computer-generated Verification Word. These
are nonsensical arrangements of letters meant to insure that the comment
submission is coming from a real human being and not some spamming
computer program.
Well, I find some of the Verification Words to
be funny, or interesting, or just plain weird, and so for the last 7
months I saved in a Word File all of my favorite Verification Words I
encountered while submitting comments to the blogs of others. Here are
the 27 words I wound up saving after 7 months.
jebocker
- mifie - curbiti - stermo - bolergar - redshe - stampoxi - phreti -
liturva - spoteli - hingsomp - jewdays - demetax - waysizin - emotle –
mingsi - equalysi - antiverg - muthref - expot - wingam -ellycart -
unglyz - dinathr - ditypolf - inhomiz – locurri
Well, this
morning, I got to wondering just how difficult it would be to try
incorporating all of these words into a story. I decided to give it a go
and below is what I came up with. Turns out, it really wasn’t very
difficult at all. Especially if seriousness and quality are immediately
thrown through the window, trampled upon, and then put to the torch.
Right from the start, I figured the simplest way would be to come at
this problem with a kind of futuristic Sci-Fi approach.
I can
hardly believe I wasted time in doing this . . . but I did. No point in
"wasting it worse" by refraining from posting it on this blog. Here’s a
Sci-Fi look at the future by a guy (me) who really doesn’t much like
Sci-Fi stories nor the future. I’ve put all of the Verification Words in
red.
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GUERRILLA WARFARE WITH THE REDSHE
In the year 2525
If man is still alive
If woman can survive
They may find
In the year 3535
Ain't gonna need to tell the truth, tell no lies
Everything you think, do, and say
Is in the pill you took today.
~ "In the Year 2525 (Exordium and Terminus)"
by Zager & Evans
When the Moon was in the seventh house and Curbiti aligned with Liturva, I received an urgent call from Commissioner Bolergar on the Fratphone. It seemed that the Redshe were threatening to perform extreme circumcision on all of the men they held captive during the upcoming Jewdays celebration unless their demands of equalysi were met.
The Redshe were Marxist-inspired Feminists led by a female midget named Unglyz, and equalysi
was their extremist ideology that on the surface meant that women
should be given fair and equal treatment with men in all areas of
social, political and professional life here in Bravenewworldwetrust.
But everyone knew that in practice, the true goal of equalysi
was to give preferential treatment to females, while degrading men and
undermining their self-esteem. Everyone also knew that “extreme
circumcision” was a euphemism for... well, literally emasculating the
men held in Redshe prisons.
It was up to me to free the captives and teach the Redshe a lesson they would not soon forget. My name is Jacques Jebocker, and I am a professional exterminator for the highly trained, all-male counterrevolutionary warrior unit called The Dinathr.
When she learned that I might be gone for as long as four weeks, naturally, my wife Mifie
pleaded with me to let her accompany me on this mission. I explained to
her that it would be fast and dangerous and I couldn’t afford to be
slowed down by anyone with physiological emotle
wiring. It would be best if she stayed behind, at home, and continued
raising our children. It was a tough job – tougher than mine – but someone had to do it.
But without saying a word, Mifie flashed me a view of her locurri and I began to think: Well, heck, four weeks IS a long time, and a man gets lonely on the road and while hiding in the underground ellycarts waiting for just the right moment to spring into action and exterminate the enemy.
“Alright, see if you can find a babysitter,” I told Mifie, and then I went to the garage to pack my gear.
That night, Mifie
and I enjoyed a fine meal together, as we knew it would be our last for
some time. Hereafter, we’d be scrounging for scraps, dumpster diving,
and begging for crumbs from the destitute Mingsi we encountered in the villages on the outskirts of devastated Expot. Expot
was the name given to the ramshackle and burned-out buildings that
remained of once glorious Good-Pot Utopia on the high, rolling hills
region in Bravenewworldwetrust after the terrible Wingam Wars had wrought their destruction.
I
couldn’t help mentally dwelling on the demanding, rigorous job that we
were in for, of the deprivation and exhaustion that lay ahead of us and
the jungle-producing diarrhea that would lie behind us.
“Jacques, you’ve hardly touched your hingsomp,” Mifie scolded me, “and I sauteed it just the way you like!”
“I
know. I’m sorry, Mif,” I confessed. “But you wouldn’t be hungry either
if you knew of the demanding, rigorous job that we are in for, of the
deprivation and exhaustion that lies ahead of us and the
jungle-producing diarrhea that will lie behind us.”
“Try not to think about it, darling,” she said as she pulled the cork on another bottle of 2525 vintage spoteli, and poured me another large crystal glass full of the intoxicating stuffs.
Three bottles of spoteli later, Mifie unveiled her locurri and we fell to the kitchen floor together and engaged in passionate ditypolf while our dog, Spot, kept barking into the
Inhomiz-Canine Translator, “Get a room! Get a room!”
Mifie
and I woke up hungover as hell on the kitchen floor at eleventy o’clock
the following day. Damn, we had already missed the morning Stermo Racer! Now we’d have to commute to Dinathr Headquarters at Expot with all the smelly peasants on the slow and bone-rattling Stampoxi Train and pay the exorbitant demetax at the crowded Waysizin Station. Crap! I hate it when that happens. And it happens a lot! Too often, if you ask me.
The Waysizin
Stations were centers where bureaucrats working for Uncle Sam’s Big
Brother weighed and measured every traveler’s luggage for taxation
purposes. Every aspect of life was regulated, weighed, measured and
taxed, but the people cheered the taxes because the citizens’ wealth
confiscated by Uncle Sam’s Big Brother’s bureaucrats here in
Bravenewworldwetrust was used to keep the homeland safe from invasions
by maurading bands of Redshe, Mangy Muthref and other undesirables. Or at least that’s what the people were told by their politicians.
Commissioner Bolergar was pissed that I was so late in arriving at Dinathr Headquarters, but he was even madder to find that I had brought Mifie with me.
“What the hell’s wrong with you, Jebocker?” Bolergar
demanded. “How could you bring your wife along on a mission like this?
Do you have any idea what sort of demanding, rigorous job you are in
for, of the deprivation and exhaustion that lies ahead of you and the
jungle-producing diarrhea that will lie behind you?”
“While I’m out there trying to gain the trust and the cooperation of the Mingsi, I think the special equipment Mifie possesses – her locurri,
to be crude but specific, Chief - will come in handy in that regard,” I
argued. “And besides that, the babysitter gave us her ultra-low ‘War
With The Redshe’ rate. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
“Very well,” Bolergar said. “But at the first hint of trouble, I’m taking you off this case and turning it over to Agent 86.”
“I won’t let you down this time, Chief!” I promised.
“Fine, Jacques, fine. Now the first thing you’d better do is see Doctor Freddie Phreti in the laboratory and have him give you both a dose of Antiverg. Dinathr Headquarters has received fairly reliable intelligence reports that the Redshe have contaminated the local water supply with the deadly Verg virus to which only they are immune.”
“You got it, Chief,” I said as I turned to leave for Doctor Phreti’s office. I always dreaded having to take the Anti-Kool-Aid solution because it smelled like urine. The Antiverg syrup, however, wasn’t so bad because it tasted like chicken.
. . . . . . . .
Well,
that’s as far as I got with this story because I ran out of
Verification Words. And too bad, too, because I feel I have the
beginning of a genuine classic here.
;o)
As ridiculous as the thing is, it was kind of fun to write and I do sort of like what I stuck in there.
It
was just an experiment to see if I could use all the crazy Verification
Words, but I managed to make references to everything, almost including
the kitchen sink. One can find Batman in there, Get Smart, The Pink
Panther, the Hippie ‘60s, but best of all, it’s a commentary on
Feminism, the phony War Against Terrorism and the stupidity of modern
Americans willing to trade money and liberty for safety. And I was also
satirizing the sort of rubbish that passes as “entertainment” for
dumbed-down Americans today. You know, crap like Battlestar Galactica
and Xena The Warrior Bimbo, stuffs like that.
~ Stephen T. McCarthy
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Now, whenever I see one of these hardcore science fiction books where every character's name is something ridiculous like 'Gnathralac' and he's from the planet 'Balthron', I'm going to wonder if they just stole them from Captchas.
ReplyDeleteI couldn’t help mentally dwelling on the demanding, rigorous job that we were in for, of the deprivation and exhaustion that lay ahead of us and the jungle-producing diarrhea that would lie behind us.
Dude, that is A+ humor at its finest. And the repetition throughout is just fantastic.
I kinda wanted to see where the hero and his wife (and his talking dog) were going with this, but I guess maybe you didn't have enough bottles of spoteli to propeli you through the rest of the story.
I'd say more, but it's already past my bedtime (eleventy o'clock in the afternoon on a Jewday).
~6B
6-B ~
DeleteYeah, nuttin' stops a story faster'n running out of spoteli.
Glad you liked the first act, though.
What's actually kinda sad is that someone could probably take this start, finish it, sell it in Hollywood and make millions of dollars on the movie deal. I mean, this really isn't that far off from the shit that Americonned Sheeple are watching on the boob tube every night.
What's that? Did someone mention 'IDIOCRACY'?
~ D-FensDogG
Check out my new blog @
(Link:] Stephen T. McCarthy Reviews...
POSTSCRIPT ~
DeleteFUN FACT:
My favorite of all the Verification Words here is "ditypolf". I think that should become a real euphemism for sleazy, kitchen-table or kitchen-floor sex. ...Not that I would really know about that, but... well... I've seen it in the movies.
~ D-FensDogG
Check out my new blog @
(Link:] Stephen T. McCarthy Reviews...
Word Verification MadLibs at it's finest! I love how creative your mind is. Keep up the good work, McCarthy!
ReplyDelete~Mary
Jingle Jangle Jungle
MARY! MARY!...
DeleteMadlibs, ha! I guess it was kinda Madlib-like, wasn't it? I never actually did any of those so I didn't think of it like that.
Thanks so much for the E-Ticket compliment (GiR). I shall endeavor to persevere.
:o)
~ D-FensDogG
Check out my new blog @
(Link:] Stephen T. McCarthy Reviews...