From the creators of Star Trek, the Next Regurgitation... From the mind that spawned an argument simulator... There comes... S I X M E N A N D A B A N A N A --------------------------------------- ----------------------- ------- A NEW THUMPING GOOD TRANSDIMENSIONAL, TIME TRAVELLING, PASTIE EATING, LEMMING FLATTENING, NETWORK CRASHING, CRAMP INDUCING TEXTFILE BASED ON A FEW KEYBOARD FREEKED LUNATICS AND... A BANANA It`s one- thirty- PM, which is quite a coincidence because the story starts in room D-130 at the Henley College. D-130, by the by, is the computer room, as borne out by the sign on the wall, which reads: HACKERS HAVE DENS GRAPHIC ARTISTS HAVE LAIRS SYSOPS HAVE DOMAINS!! --------------------- In the Room, Steve "The Mad Hippo And Part- Time Local Gravitational Anomaly" Lake is working on a Silly C Program. Bog "Conifer Tree" Hennessy-Barrett is working on a silly picture involving lemmings, vaseline and Yaks. There are assorted nonentities doing relatively unimportant things with the various Psuedocomputers scattered around. Steve is having a problem with his current proglet... STEVE: BUGGER! Steve is a fun, fun fellow. Almost totally silly, with an eternally happy outlook on life, until he gets angry, he is most renouned for being able to catch buses. Literally. This phenomenon is due, in most part, to his ability to generate an instant 6000 metres per second squared acceleration in any direction. Given enough Coke and sugar, that is. His other talents include squashing things, and making totally logical constructs do totally illogical things. He is, in short, the ultimate Amiga owner that Evolution could possibly have produced. BOG: Problem? Bog is... Bog. Too tall for most shoes, too longhaired for most glasses, too violent for most vending machines, Bog`s primary method for expressing himself is to strafe the object in question, and bayonetting people with Hypothetical Bayonets. Bog`s most spectacular ability is the capacity for taking a mundane, menial task, and turning it into an excuse for not doing anything more like work. This minor failing is made up by the fact that when it comes to boring tasks (EG, maths or boring parts of Physics (Equations, but not detonations), he has a head like a sponge. As a further peep into his Psych Profile, he is lemming- obsessed and F-16 posessed. Another Amiga Phreeeek, his pet love is insulting PC owners. STEVE: MY BLOODY PROGRAM ISN`T WORKING! Now, Steve makes a critical error. He stamps his foot in frustration. The building quakes, and windows shatter. A mousepointer is jolted clear off one screen and lands on the desk with a sound like a winded lemming. On the other side of the globe, six million chinese people are bounced into orbit. Just at that moment, in should walk Nick Hatton. Most people call him Nick, but his freinds call him Nik. Y`see, he doesn`t like the "S" sound in the middle, to rhyme with Disk. That`s the sort of person Nik knows. The really odd thing about him is the flight path ladder and gunsight etched on his specs. And the fact that he gets contrails off his knuckles. The current totally, utterly, unutterably odd thing about him is the fact that he`s covered with fine white plaster dust. NIK: Steve, is there a problem? STEVE: How did you know? NIK: Well, Bob (The lekkytronical teach) just got brained by a lump of combo readybrek/ plaster, and everything`s covered in fine white dust downstairs, plus the fact that six million chinese people are now orbital sushi. STEVE: Ah. So that`s how you could tell. I`m having trouble with my C. BOG: What, does it keep stock still, and the beach washes up and down? Everybody throws large, hefty objects at Bog, who ducks, allowing it all to hit The Kevin which just at that Most Opportune moment entered. THE KEVIN: Aaaaaaooooowwww. Ha ha ha. Good joke everybody! Sadly, Kevin U. Palmer (The "U" standing for "Uuuuhhh....") is under the delusion that everyone likes him, and just pretends to want to kill him. However, if you swapped the operative words in the above sentence, (Like and Kill), you would arrive at the truth. Another home truth is that if you know The Kevin, you will already mentally have done this, and also substitude the word "Sadly" for the word "Hilariously". Nik examines Steve`s sourcecode. NIK: Oh, no wonder!!!! STEVE: What is it? NIK: You`ve written this like we were taught to! That`s why it`s not working! If you just do the reverse of what Graham said, you`ll be allright! STEVE: Okie dokie, matey. BOG: (Aside to Camera): Now the real reason that Steve`s program doesn`t work, is because it was written on an IBM clone. If it had been written on an Amiga... YOW!!! Nik wipes the blood off of a suddenly- dented keyboard and carries on talking to Steve. NIK: Dead simple. Just pretend that you know precicely nothing about C programming. STEVE: Uhhhhhhh.... OK. Steve whips out his Big Silver Roar Gun and riddles the monitor and CPU box with hypothetical bullets/ rockets/ Lemmings squeaking "Fire" and napalm. NIK: Perfect! It`ll work now! Lo and behold, the screen goes blank, and a banana drawn in ANSI graphics appears. BOG: Now, if you`d handdrawn that in DPaint 4 on an Amigaaaaaaghghghghghhh! Nik pulls a PosiDrive out from underneath Bog`s shoulderblade, wipes it on the carpet and reinserts it in his pocket. After some gasping, Bog manages to get himself upright in his seat. BOG: You`re just jealous. WHUMP! (Squidge) BOG: Whhaaaaaaaargggghh! Ye BASTARD!!!!!!!! Leaping from the chair, he takes Nik down in a tangle of mice, headphone cords, glasses, tape streamers and PCs. A cloud of dust obscures the proceedings until finally there is only one person left standing. And that`s Steve, who has been brassbanding "In The Mood" during the fight. NIK: Goaaar, that was fun. BOG: Can`t thank you enough, old man. Been moons since I`ve had a decent scrummage. Fookin` great. Three minutes of sorting out glasses, headphones, cables, body parts and assorted fractures later, the twain retire for a relaxing fag and another enlivening round of personal insults. The sound of grunts, clangs and thudding body blows reaches us from outside. Steve shakes his head sadly, and continues with his Banana Simulator program. All in all, a totally gnormal day at Henlej College. Must remember to change back from the Swedish kejmap. But, as our heros are soon to discover, even the ones I haven`t written in yet, today is not just your common- or- garden Collij day. STEVE: (Pushing buttons) Oh, my god! NIK & BOG (In Dolby B): What? STEVE: We`ve got a new server, and nothing`s wrong with the Net. Just as he speaks, The Kevin utters that Dread Phrase: THE KEVIN: Hey everybody, I`ve just done something really interesting! NETWORK: Dwwwwwweeeeeaaaarrrrooooooouuuuuughhhhhhh, kerthunk. All the monitors darken. The lighting gets dimmer, and the temperature drops five kelvin, but then if you had an armload of kelvins and that happened, you`d probably drop some of them as well. ALL EXCEPT THE KEVIN: !>ohshitwhat BOG: STEVE: IAIN: CRAIG: GARETH: Can I have a go? N/B/S/I/C: Fu... uh... no. You can`t. BOG: Only one thing for it, dudes. It`s starting to get silly. You know what that means. STEVE: Yeah. Nothing does what we expect it to do. NIK: Right! So if we`re playing it at it`s own game... BOG: Then this computer (If I can bring myself to call it that (sneer)) expects me to use the mouse, then by simply doing something else... IAIN: You outwierd it! Craig pulls the syringe from behind his ear, and shoves it into his arm CRAIG: God, I wish I had something stronger than Insulin on me...(Squirt) BOG: Reet. He grabs the mouse, which starts squeaking, and attempting to drive his hand crackingly into the CPU box. Sussing it`s game, he grips it, hoys it three feet it the air, and, an expert eater, catches it in his gob. Krrrunch. BOG: Guuuuumph.... bruuuuuuuup. Hmmm. Needs oregano. Steve, Iain, Craig and Nik start chewing simultaneously and agree all at the same time. They look at one another. NICK: Oh my God, they`ve gone mad. As The Claytoid passes by a diskbox, it`s contents start rippling out of it and onto the floor in a pretty fanspread relational to tidal gravity from his paunch. STEVE: Bloody hell. Not satisfied with taking other people`s code, he`s ripped off my bloody gravity flux as well! BOG: Well, at least now it doesn`t seem like we`re looking at you through fisheye lenses anymore. IAIN: How`s that? BOG: Well, now photons should warp around him any longer. STEVE: Bugg... uh.. no, I mean... The ICL that Stevey Babes is sat at suddenly... phases. The banana disappears to be replaced with a cabbage flashing red and purple. STEVE: Aaawwwww, SHIT! At this point, Dan "Pastie" Powell walks in, and seeing as I can't think of anything for him to do right now, he just leans against a wall for a bit. While he's doing that, I'll tell you about him. Dan is marked by the fact that he's the only person in creation to have an alien lifeform living in perfect simbiosys with him. The creature's real name is totally unpronouncable, so everybody just calls it by it's function in life :- "Hair". The other remarkable thing is, he's the only person in the Team who's room is always tidy: The reason for this phenomenon is simple: Dan uses pasties for energy. Hair uses the rubbish on Dan's floor for energy by grazing whilst he sleeps. Craig has finished logging in, but is confused by the Henley Kollidge login screen`s replacement by a glowing red orb. He hits the break key. HAL: I`m sorry, Craig, but I can`t allow you to do that. Craig looks overhis shoulder at everyone else. CRAIG: Can somebody tell me what the HELL is going on here? STEVE: I`m afraid IT`s happening again, Craig. CRAIG: No, not... THAT. NIK: Yes. We`re re- entering... ALL: THE A LITTLE AFTER LUNCHTIME ZONE! Soundtrack: nee nee nee nee, nee nee nee nee, nee nee nee nee, nee nee nee nee! HAL: Craig, why don`t you take an anti- stress pill and we`ll discuss this. After all, I have the utmost enthusiasm for the mission. STEVE: Hmm. We appear to have had a fragment of 2001, a Spaced Odyssey, penetrate our personal reality- space. NIK: Can you justify calling THIS reality? IAIN: Ever seen inside an Amiga? NIK: Oh, yeah. BOG: Shurrup. (Sulk). STEVE: Actually, guys, this is a bit of a change! We`re staying where we were this time, and everythings coming to us! Cue backdrop fade out to inky black space, pierced at intervals by stars scattered like diamond dust on jet- black velvet, then to a clinically white room: the monitor with the glowing red orb has been transdimensionally replaced with a dull red scanner eye and a seventies- like Bolton- ferbruary- day- grey console with the nameplate "H.A.L. 9000". We just have enough time to hear our heros` jaws hit the ground before it`s time for the credits. IN NEXT WEEK`S SIX MEN AND A BANANA... ----- STEVE: OK. It seems that Iain here has turned reality into swiss cheese. We just happened to randomly pop up on the Discovery, just before Frank Poole gets killed by Hal... DAVE: Whaaaat? HAL: Oh, bugger. Er, it was just going to be a joke, Dave... ----- DAN: Need a hand? BOG: Thanks. (POP) Bog pockets Dan`s left hand. DAN: Oi! Give that back! BOG: Soz. (Skwudge) ----- HAL: I`ve got some people trying to take control of the Discovery. They want to destroy my mind. KILLEMALL: Will three Mark IIX assault droids and a disruptor unit do? HEL: That should be perfectly adequate. KILLEMALL: I`m despatching them now. They should arrive in a couple of... ----- That last part has been removed on the grounds of maintaining suspense. Fade.