Smartbomb

Predator Press

[Mr. I]

Kringle’s compound, while formidable, was no match for RDO’s advanced technology; still, Sapphire had the Alpha Scrambler to contend with.

“What’s that?” asked LOBO, exhausted from punching women and children. He was munching on animal crackers, and had a peculiar habit of eating only the heads and discarding the decapitated cookies all over the ship.

“The Alpha Scrambler is a wave transmitted by satellite that makes smart people stupid,” replied Sapphire.

“Like the Rush Limbaugh show?”

“Exactly.”

Thinking hard, Sapphire put her fingers to her lips. “I’m an android, so I’ll be immune. But I can’t do this alone. If the smarter you are the more susceptible you are, I’ll have to be careful who goes on the ground assault.” As she surveyed the available personnel her eyes fell on LOBO, who was scratching off lottery tickets on the navigation terminal with a quarter.

“You’re in,” she stated flatly.

“Wha--?”

“Yes. I’m going to rush the fat man. You have to disengage the scrambler and save our friends as they dangle precariously over the zinc smelter.”

“Uh, Sapphire, I think you’ve got the wrong guy. I’m no hero. I mean I look great in a muscle shirt, true. But trust me … this body hasn’t seen a muscle since I was raped by Grace Jones. Besides, I think these animal crackers are starting to kick in--“

Sapphire emerged from the Daisy Mae firing her shotgun one handed, dragging LOBO by his ear with the other.

"But we can make new friends!" he sobbed.


***

LOBO followed the big arrows that read “SUPER SECRET COMPUTER DEFENSE SYSTEMS”, and arrived at a computer terminal. On the screen was an alphabetical list of names starting with the letter O. Skimming it quickly, the only name he recognized was Jimmy Orlando. Opposite his name was a column marked 'Nice', and beyond that was another column, curiously marked "EXCLAIMER".

"What the hell is an ‘EXCLAIMER’?" he wondered aloud, absently grabbing another animal cracker. Looking at the cookie, he realized it was half a seal.

Uh oh, he thought, examining the label on the bag.

It read: “DO NOT EAT IF SEAL IS BROKEN.”

Comcast

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Skip this post if you are looking for my usual happity horseshit: this post is intended for triggering search engines on the off-chance someone is looking for comments on internet/phone/cable services out here in Blogdom.

Let me say this clearly, and without equivocation:


COMCAST IS THE WORST THING THAT HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME.

And coming from a survivor of two marriages, that’s saying a lot.

This may be a localized problem; I know a lot of people online that seem to not have many issues. But the only other guy that I know in my immediate area with their services has already had it disconnected!

When you consider Comcast as your provider, be prepared for lies, empty promises, poor installation, long and frequent internet and phone service outages, lost income, blown-off service appointments and COUNTLESS hours on the phone (at your own personal expense).

Oh, and have I mentioned that it’s pretty damn expensive for all that?

Beware.

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Ford, Toyota and Chevrolet have all roundly rejected the Leviathan, my innovative alternative-energy SUV design.

Alas, the world shall never see the first automobile ever designed to run solely on rare and endangered species of wildlife. In the prototype, I got all the way to Tuscaloosa on six snow leopards, two condors and half a bald eagle.

So all you "alternative energy" hippie posers can just kiss my ass, okay? I thought you were serious.

The Joy of LOBO

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Yeah, well there wasn't really much to do on the trip home, so I volunteered to babysit for the nine Mr. Insanity clones.

And it was all "are we there yet?" and "I want a bicycle" and "I'm hungry! We haven't eaten since Tuesday" blah blah blah nonsense ... the little bastards are completely impossible when it comes down to it.

And when I jacked up the one that said I was a 'Poo-Poo Head', things only got worse ...

Darlette

Predator Press

[Mr. I]

Sapphire smacked LOBO.

Hard.

"Snap out of it!" she cried, smacking him again. "Wake up dumbass! Our friends are in trouble!"

RDO smacked him too. “Yeah! What she said!”

“Stop!” LOBO sobbed. “I got it! Please stop smacking me!”

RDO smacked him again, “Well, you did miss the second chorus.”

“Sir!” the tech interrupted, pointing at the video screen. “The trailer parks have formed their own anti-LOBO device!”

The fifty-foot tattooed and barefoot robot slowly rose, brandishing a frying pan the size of football goalposts, smashing trailers an puppies left and right.

The tech guy whistled.

“Our intelligence says she’s called ’Darlette’.”

Hangin Tough

Predator Press

[Mr. I]

Legless Jim and I took charge of the barren Wal-Mart, and we immediately put the Greeters to work melting down the snow shovels and Twizzlers so we had some raw material to start a rather ambitious manufacturing project.

With China destroyed, there were no crappy electronics, cheap sneakers or horrible clothes to be bought; as a result, trailer parks were burning nationwide due to angry, naked, barefoot people with pit bulls.

We never even noticed that Sapphire was missing.

***

The Robot Dinosaur Overlord supervised his minion’s repairs personally.

“WHAT’S HER STATUS?” he asked.

“Well, she took some pretty nasty hits,” the tech surmised. “I’m seeing damage consistent with massive collisions, grenades ….”

RDO scratched his chin. “IT SEEMS WE UNDERESTIMATED THE HUMAN CAPACITY FOR VIOLENCE.”

“We may never know for sure, sir. Between the damage sustained and the various upgrades, it’s unlikely she will have much memory of what actually occurred.”

“WELL, I’M LOOKING FORWARD TO TESTING THE NEW WEAPONRY.” He reached behind Sapphire, and flipped the “on” switch.

“What is thy bidding, my Master?” she smiled demurely.

“THE IMMEDIATE EXTERMINATION OF OUR PRISONER, MAXIMILLIAN.”

“Sir,” interrupted the tech. “This will be in clear violation of our treaty with the Student Loan people and the Zombies.”

“I HAVE SOUGHT THIS TRAITOR FOR YEARS. MY INTERROGATION SPECIALISTS HAVE ALREADY DESTROYED HIS MIND. AS WE ARE ALREADY IN VIOLATION OF THE TREATY, THE PRISONER MUST DIE.”

Sapphire stood and checked the ammunition of her Winchester 12 gauge semi-automatic shotgun. The magazine full, she cocked the weapon one handed, smiling.

“As you wish.”

***

Donnie, Joey, Jordan, Danny, and Jonathan ... and Joey and, uh, Danny --the ‘Interrogation Specialists’—had truly outdone themselves. The prisoner was broken within hours by extreme exposure to The New Kids on the Block performing live, and 80,000 coupons for Bed, Bath and Beyond.

After a few days, he was even singing along with them.

RDO and Sapphire entered the room as the group practiced their choreography:

“Just get on the floor and do the New Kids dance
Don’t worry about nothing cause it won’t take long
We’re gonna put you in a trance with the funky song
Cause you gotta be... “

Drooling, a shattered LOBO sang along during the chorus in a pirouette inhibited by heavy chains.

“Hangin’ tough,
singin tough,
we’re rough,
Oh, oh, oh, oh--”

Sapphire shrieked in utter horror. “Oh my God!” she cried. “That’s not Max, that’s LOBO!

RDO turned and yelled over his shoulder.

”GODDAMNIT ERIC!”

Hands freed, a wild-eyed LOBO spat foam as he grabbed Sapphire’s lapel.

“Please,” he begged in a raspy whisper.

“Take me … to … Banana … Republic ….”

The Empire Strikes Out

Predator Press

[LOBO]

You know, were it not for wayne1960, I would never have known that the Plaid Elephant was there.

"Got yourself pretty fucked now," he says.

"This is nothing," I says nonchalantly. "You shoulda seen me when New Kids on the Block were getting airplay." I twist so I can face him, and then employ the Jedi Mind Trick. "You want to release me from these shackles."

The great Plaid Elephant balked, "You fool. The Jedi Mind Trick only works on the weak minded."

"--only works on the weak minded," I repeated.

"I sense a great disturbance in The Farce," says the elephant.

"--great disturbance in The Farce," I says.

"We'll need lots of peanuts," he says.

"Peanuts," says me.

"And I get huge royalties for showing up in this story," the Great One says.

"Not a fuckin chance," I says. "Got any peanuts?"