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Friday, December 21, 2012

Lt. Lambaste and the SciGuy vs. WTF???

Lt. Lambaste: Good afternoon.  I'm Lt. Lambaste!

SciGuy: And I'm the SciGuy!  And we're....

Together: NOT GOING TO KILL ANYMORE CLONES!!!

LL: That's right folks.  Killing clones is mean, unproductive, probably legally murder...ish, and it hurts their feelings!

SG: Clones are people too!  Weird people who live in the catacombs beneath the basement of Writing About Writing, but people nonetheless!

LL: Also we just don't do stuff like that anymore.....because it's wrong.

SG: So we've put on our festive Santa hats--as you can see--to bring you a kinder, gentler use of the uber-cannon to hunt down pretentious stuff.  And today...we're going to dismantle the Pretentitron.  And I'm not at all upset about seeing my life's work destroyed!  Not even a little.  It's not like I spent thirty years on it only to see it become the primary weapon in an inter-dimensional war or--

LL: And can I just stop you there, SciGuy, and wish everyone a happy Not Dying and Screaming in the Mayan apocalypse day?  Isn't it awesome to not be appocolipsified?  Thanks Dr. Who!

SG: Absolutely, Lieutenant, if anything, this is a day of rebirth--it's the winter solstance.  Sunreturn.  Saturnalia for which Saturn--or Greek Kronia--is named. What a great day to have to find a new career!

LL: Wow, that's really interesting SciGuy.  Isn't it great not killing clones.  Isn't that just great...like we rehearsed...in rehearsal....where we said it was great.

SG: Shut UP.  I was just thinking the same thing!  And....wait...getting some strange readings here.

LL: Strange readings?  I'll say!  This isn't anything like the holiday cheer and puppies reading we rehearsed.  You're totally off fucking script, you stupid civvie...

SG: No El Tee, like some actually strange readings.  I think a rift might be opening.   I think The Octorians are coming through.

LL: The Octorians?  They surrendered, you silly goose.  Well all except that rogue general guy--  ooomph.

SG: Cynthia!  Oh my GOD!!!

LL: Damn....that's gonna scar.

SG:  Oh god.  Oh god.  You...can't live without that bit or that bit.  And I'm not even sure what this is.  We gotta get you into the Pretentitron and clone you.  You're not going to live.

LL: Will a clone be me though--even with my memories?  Will my consciousness be unaltered?  My quantum state thingie...

Octorian:  Ahem....

SG: I don't know.  All I know is I can't live without you Cynthia.

LL: Damn Sci, are you in love with me?

SG: No...it's just a really tough job market.

Octorian: AHEM!!!!

LL: I really wish I could have gone out protecting something, you know?  This feels like a stupid death.  Like Tasha Yar stupid.

SG: No death will ever be that stupid, Cynthia.  I swear it.  EVER!!!  Besides....this isn't even Walsh or Shepherd Book stupid.  This is like a Cpl. Hicks death.  Not remotely Tasha Yar stupid.

LL: If I find out you made a holographic self-eulogy...so help me.....

Octorian: AH-HEM!!!

SG: WHAT???  Seriously, you can't just DO your terrible plan?  You have to have me be an audience for some speech and talk about it first or something?

Octorian: Um.....well...yes.  So pay attention human worm!  I am War General Gilgish of the Octorian Legions.

SG: Why do you sound like an effete Brit?

General Gilgish: Romans always do--even Romans in space or Roman-esque governments.  Now be silent!  My world may not harbor the will to do what is needed to remove the scourge of Earth's pretentiousness from the universe and the blight that is Chris Brecheen and this god awful blog, but I have no such compunctions.  I shall clone myself interminably, as you did pLink, and spread across your world like an extremely virulent virus.

SG: Like a....plague maybe?

GG: I do not use cliches!  I am not pretentious.  I seek to eliminate pretentious from the world!  Now...tell me how to use this device.  This pretentitron.

SG: You are a cliche.

GG: Human, believe me that I can prolong your death for weeks--possibly months if you eat sufficient amounts of fiber.  Now help me!

SG: Let's see...help you commit genocide of my entire race by showing you how to use the machine of Earth's undoing or tell you to use your own cephlopodic tentacles to fuck yourself hentai anime style.  Tough choice!

GG: Oh human.  Oh dear, sweet human... You have made a grievous error this day.

LL: Hey, SciGuy....what do you think will happen if I shoot the uber canon here at the Pretentitron?

SG: Cynthia, no!  That's your only hope for survival!

LL: Yeah, but this guy is a really big asshole.  Like goatse big.

GG: Wait!  Wait, Lieutenant Lambaste.  Let us discuss this....as soldiers. Think this through...even with an army of clones, I can't possibly destroy all humanity.  I don't have the weaponry and I can't infiltrate your govenments seeing as I'm a giant cephalopod.   I'll have to pick and choose my battles.  I'll have to eliminate only the most pretentious.

LL: I'm starting to see a tunnel and a light.  Can you switch to the Cliffs Notes version?

GG: Isn't that what you want too?  Isn't that what the Pretentiron and killing pretentious clones is all about?  Aren't we on the same basic mission.  Don't we want the same thing?

LL: No.  We're not on the same mission.  I was killing clones so the originals would live.  So the originals would learn a lesson.

GG: (Breaking melodramatic character) Okay, actually that's fair point.  I always wondered why the hell that was.  Insight?

LL: Because you fucking intergalactic, tentacle-faced, genocidificating, Harold Bloomish, goatse raging-elitist SNOB, a good artist is just a pretentious prat.... (~throws the uber cannon's safety~) ....who didn't fucking quit.

~FSHHHHHHHHTHOMBLAMBLASTSPLORT!!!~

SG: NOOOOOOOOOO!

GG: NOOOOOOOOOO!

LL: BOOOOYAAAAAAH, motherfucker!!!

SG: Oh holy fucking BALLS, Cynthia.  Why, in the name of ZUES'S BUTTHOLE didn't you just shoot HIM????

LL: Moving target.  Couldn't....take...the.........chance.  Aaaarrrrrgggh-

SG: Yeah....  that's true.  The clones kept getting away if you didn't catch them off guard.  Damn, Cynthia, you just totally upgraded to, like, T-800 death or maybe even Spock.  That was fucking....um.....rest in peace Lieutenant.  Rest in peace.

GG: You!  Science nerd!  You will fix the cloning machine!

SG: The hell I will.  You just killed my boss. So I'm a touch on the "fuck you" side even without the genocide thing.  And yeah, I may have had a few fantasies about whether her undies were also camouflage, not that I'd admit it to her.

LL: I knew it!  Aaarrrrggggh-

SG:  You are so far off my Christmas list right now.

GG: Wait... what?   WHAT DID YOU SAY???  Christmas?  What is this Christmas?

SG: It's a holiday.  And by the way, you've ruined mine.  Go tentacle rape yourself please.

GG: He has a list?  He has a HOLIDAY????

SG: Well...yeah.  I mean...most people think of him as the savior of all mankind.  I don't...I'm a scientist, but--

GG: DAMN HIM!!!  DAMN CHRIS BRECHEEN!!!

SG: Oh wait, no.  It's not actually that Chris--

GG: You're right little science man with your enlarged, bulbous brain.  You cannot fix this machine fast enough for it to matter.  Your world's defenses are en route even as I speak. I cannot win this battle against all of pretentiousness though Earth crawls with its corruptive filth.  I will destroy this world's most pretentious artist and have the death I have been living for!

SG: You're....hurting me.

GG: (looking at the camera) Do you see this people of Earth?

SG: We only have like five hundred veiwers, man...~choke~   Seriously that's not even like one city on Earth...and.... ~choke~

GG: I will kill this scientist and his brain, and I will keep killing innocents until you bring me your champion of the pretentious.  Bring me this...."savior of all mankind."  I will see this pretentious blog destroyed, and it's creator dead. AT. MY. FEET!  Bring me the head writer!  BRING ME CHRIS BRECHEEN!



TO BE CONTINUED...

4 comments:

  1. OMFG!!! Tasha Yar stupid. I love it!

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    Replies
    1. Yea, that was to funny!

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  2. I better not have to wait three months to see the conclusion.

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    Replies
    1. Nah. Tomorrow. Sunday for sure. Then I'll take a break and come back after the holidays.

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