VOID FRUITCAKE: #3 "Poets are Born, That's the Trouble"
Created | Updated Apr 10, 2003
This episode is third in the VF series. To read the second episode click on to VF #2: You Give, You Get. So Where's the Profit?
Poets are Born, That's the Trouble
The only sun Terrarium gained access to slowly started illuminating Sigmund's room. He got up, headed towards the hyperlavatory and went about his routine tasks - synchronising his conscience with the hypercomputer at Necropolis - the Server FLAP/SP, cleansing external facial regions and shouting, "Ahhhh!! It's Solid..." That was part of his self-harvested religion. He then strolled into the main control panel unit and started the best possible conversation with his computer.
"Good morning Tommy..." Sigmund pronounced with a huge grin painted on his face.
"Whatever... And hey, It's Major Thomas... built to shelter infininte confidential or volatile data securely and to meet every multime..." Sigmund interruped.
"Major Tom..." He tried to keep his cool.
"Thomas," corrected the computer.
"Hell, I don't care. Just connect me to serv://stor.fil.sig-.mop/flap right this instant!" he thundered.
"Okay Okay... hold your hortas". The usual hum changed into an immsense roar, quietly died down and with a single distinct beep, confirmed the procedure had completed.
"Good... now get me Gabriel"
"I could be in MASA now, you know, getting paid for my worth and..."
"Ahem!"
"I Heard it, I Heard it. Just give me a hypersecond..." the computer recited with a certain tone that suggested it was rather bored with fetching all of Siggo's fish without him ever having to touch the water.
"Gabriel open on portal 4/IN."
"Heya Gabe... how's it going?" By 'it', Sigmund meant the guitar solo for their new song, 'Poets are Born, That's the Trouble'.
"How's it going? It's done! Past, man!" Gabriel announced with visible excitement.
"Hell Yea! The drumming's all done too. I heard the clip you sent me - awesome moo!" Sigmund was also a member of the 'moo society', the people who studied about the first generation universe, found the term 'dude' and turned it into the currently functional 'moo'.
"The new one's better, but I'm not going to transpose it right now. I'll play it in our Jam Session today!" Gabriel's voice was literally jumping of the cliff without a parachute (or a glider for that matter).
"Alrighty then... meet you at the Sonic Headbanger's Open-Angle League hall," Sigmund said as he waved a hypervirtual gesture of 'bye-bye' to Gabriel.
The Sonic Headbanger's Open-Angle League, or SHOAL as it's commonly known, is a totally open stage where musicians who are members get to practice or display their musical skills. It's a totally total place where everything totals up to music, or metal to be precise. The day was Gursday - the fourth day of the ten-dayed week- and Evolaris had reserved the stage for their own Jam Session. Since it was only a practice-and-play (PaP) session, no one was present as audience... that is ofcourse, if you don't consider four anxious chairs as audience.
The time was 12hh:30hm:42hs (in format hyperhour:hyperminute:hypersecond), the date, 29 Rigel 42LE (Light Epoch). Birk Cats, the totally freaked-out bassplayer entered the hall and examined the scene. Nothing living was visible (ofcourse, if you don't consider four anxious chairs as living), and the official band logo - which happened to be fish riding a bicycle - was hung high above the hyperflyer, painted on the lower tributary of the display stream. It was illuminated by four different colors, provided by Blazon (a trademark of the makers of Framework Noah, Celetics Inc.). A door creaked on the left and caught Cats' attention. Slowly the door started opening and halfway through, the boosters kicked in, throwing the door open violently. In walked Herald Fehrald (that's his name, honest). With him he carried a glowing piece of metal - the hyperphone (where all the vocals would be directly inputed to amplify his audio). He greeted Birk with a voilent nod to which Cats replied with his own genuine proud-to-be-a-bassplayer nod. Behind Herald, a hyperbuggy was transporting other equipments (guitars, amplifiers, plectrums, dogfood and the sort). He approached Birk and started a conversation while assembling and adjusting his hypstand (where the hyperphone would be placed).
"Hail Birk... you early?" Herald gave a quick look and returned to fixing the hypstand.
"If you consider one hyperminute early, yes" Birk smiled.
"Cool... Hey you finalized that bass interlude after my riff?"
"Absolutely! That interlude will stun the audience and render them motionless!" Birk excitedly articulated.
Herald looked around and, in a curious tone, inquired, "What, these four anxious chairs?"
"Oh..." Birk realized the hard way what hard realization meant.
Within thirty hyperminutes, all the players (including Gabriel and Sigmund) had arrived and set up the stage. The format was: Bass on the right, Vocals/Riff take centre stage(slightly drawn back), Percussion behind the vocals occupying both sides with the double bass, Lead on the left, and four anxious chairs right below the stage.
"Okay... all set?"
"Nope," the portable computer suggested, and was ignored.
"Yea... absolutely! We're rocking moo!" Birk announced confidently.
"Nope," again Tommy suggested, and as usual, was ignored.
"Hell Yea!" stated Herald Fehrald, "Those riffs are gonna be blazing!"
"Nope," said the critically ignored Major Thomas.
"Affirmative moo! We're rolling!" confirmed Gabriel, carefully testing his new metal slide.
"Nope," said you-know-who.
"Okay then... we're all set! My cymbals, toms, snare, bass, bullbell - all ready!"
"Great," stated Herald, "plug in the master and crank it up, Sig!"
"My pleasure..." Sugmund plugged the master plug into the master socket and... and stopped.
"What's wrong?" inquired Birk, in a tone suggesting he wanted the every single fish alive to hear his bass interlude.
"The power - it's not there..." muttered Sig.
"What the... what do you mean it's not there!?" exclaimed the band in chorus (yes, they did that).
"Hell... it's the neutron core. It's not in the Master Amulet Drive (MAD)!"
"I tried to tell, but..." Tommy Boy decided to voluntarily shut up without having to be ordered to do so.
Sigmund's mind raced furiously, and then, "The GATES, we need to go to the GATES and get the core right away!"
"Okay... I have a Gravel X42 spaceship ready for take-off. Let's go!" shouted Gabriel, "And let's put Tomcat here into the switchboard for processing, we'll need it!".
This has been the third episode of the Void Fruitcake series titled VF #3: Poets are Born, That's the Trouble. For a list of all episodes, go to Darkwin's Personal Space. To read the next episode, click on to VF #4: Keep Your Big Mouth Shut
Poets are Born, That's the Trouble
The only sun Terrarium gained access to slowly started illuminating Sigmund's room. He got up, headed towards the hyperlavatory and went about his routine tasks - synchronising his conscience with the hypercomputer at Necropolis - the Server FLAP/SP, cleansing external facial regions and shouting, "Ahhhh!! It's Solid..." That was part of his self-harvested religion. He then strolled into the main control panel unit and started the best possible conversation with his computer.
"Good morning Tommy..." Sigmund pronounced with a huge grin painted on his face.
"Whatever... And hey, It's Major Thomas... built to shelter infininte confidential or volatile data securely and to meet every multime..." Sigmund interruped.
"Major Tom..." He tried to keep his cool.
"Thomas," corrected the computer.
"Hell, I don't care. Just connect me to serv://stor.fil.sig-.mop/flap right this instant!" he thundered.
"Okay Okay... hold your hortas". The usual hum changed into an immsense roar, quietly died down and with a single distinct beep, confirmed the procedure had completed.
"Good... now get me Gabriel"
"I could be in MASA now, you know, getting paid for my worth and..."
"Ahem!"
"I Heard it, I Heard it. Just give me a hypersecond..." the computer recited with a certain tone that suggested it was rather bored with fetching all of Siggo's fish without him ever having to touch the water.
"Gabriel open on portal 4/IN."
"Heya Gabe... how's it going?" By 'it', Sigmund meant the guitar solo for their new song, 'Poets are Born, That's the Trouble'.
"How's it going? It's done! Past, man!" Gabriel announced with visible excitement.
"Hell Yea! The drumming's all done too. I heard the clip you sent me - awesome moo!" Sigmund was also a member of the 'moo society', the people who studied about the first generation universe, found the term 'dude' and turned it into the currently functional 'moo'.
"The new one's better, but I'm not going to transpose it right now. I'll play it in our Jam Session today!" Gabriel's voice was literally jumping of the cliff without a parachute (or a glider for that matter).
"Alrighty then... meet you at the Sonic Headbanger's Open-Angle League hall," Sigmund said as he waved a hypervirtual gesture of 'bye-bye' to Gabriel.
The Sonic Headbanger's Open-Angle League, or SHOAL as it's commonly known, is a totally open stage where musicians who are members get to practice or display their musical skills. It's a totally total place where everything totals up to music, or metal to be precise. The day was Gursday - the fourth day of the ten-dayed week- and Evolaris had reserved the stage for their own Jam Session. Since it was only a practice-and-play (PaP) session, no one was present as audience... that is ofcourse, if you don't consider four anxious chairs as audience.
The time was 12hh:30hm:42hs (in format hyperhour:hyperminute:hypersecond), the date, 29 Rigel 42LE (Light Epoch). Birk Cats, the totally freaked-out bassplayer entered the hall and examined the scene. Nothing living was visible (ofcourse, if you don't consider four anxious chairs as living), and the official band logo - which happened to be fish riding a bicycle - was hung high above the hyperflyer, painted on the lower tributary of the display stream. It was illuminated by four different colors, provided by Blazon (a trademark of the makers of Framework Noah, Celetics Inc.). A door creaked on the left and caught Cats' attention. Slowly the door started opening and halfway through, the boosters kicked in, throwing the door open violently. In walked Herald Fehrald (that's his name, honest). With him he carried a glowing piece of metal - the hyperphone (where all the vocals would be directly inputed to amplify his audio). He greeted Birk with a voilent nod to which Cats replied with his own genuine proud-to-be-a-bassplayer nod. Behind Herald, a hyperbuggy was transporting other equipments (guitars, amplifiers, plectrums, dogfood and the sort). He approached Birk and started a conversation while assembling and adjusting his hypstand (where the hyperphone would be placed).
"Hail Birk... you early?" Herald gave a quick look and returned to fixing the hypstand.
"If you consider one hyperminute early, yes" Birk smiled.
"Cool... Hey you finalized that bass interlude after my riff?"
"Absolutely! That interlude will stun the audience and render them motionless!" Birk excitedly articulated.
Herald looked around and, in a curious tone, inquired, "What, these four anxious chairs?"
"Oh..." Birk realized the hard way what hard realization meant.
Within thirty hyperminutes, all the players (including Gabriel and Sigmund) had arrived and set up the stage. The format was: Bass on the right, Vocals/Riff take centre stage(slightly drawn back), Percussion behind the vocals occupying both sides with the double bass, Lead on the left, and four anxious chairs right below the stage.
"Okay... all set?"
"Nope," the portable computer suggested, and was ignored.
"Yea... absolutely! We're rocking moo!" Birk announced confidently.
"Nope," again Tommy suggested, and as usual, was ignored.
"Hell Yea!" stated Herald Fehrald, "Those riffs are gonna be blazing!"
"Nope," said the critically ignored Major Thomas.
"Affirmative moo! We're rolling!" confirmed Gabriel, carefully testing his new metal slide.
"Nope," said you-know-who.
"Okay then... we're all set! My cymbals, toms, snare, bass, bullbell - all ready!"
"Great," stated Herald, "plug in the master and crank it up, Sig!"
"My pleasure..." Sugmund plugged the master plug into the master socket and... and stopped.
"What's wrong?" inquired Birk, in a tone suggesting he wanted the every single fish alive to hear his bass interlude.
"The power - it's not there..." muttered Sig.
"What the... what do you mean it's not there!?" exclaimed the band in chorus (yes, they did that).
"Hell... it's the neutron core. It's not in the Master Amulet Drive (MAD)!"
"I tried to tell, but..." Tommy Boy decided to voluntarily shut up without having to be ordered to do so.
Sigmund's mind raced furiously, and then, "The GATES, we need to go to the GATES and get the core right away!"
"Okay... I have a Gravel X42 spaceship ready for take-off. Let's go!" shouted Gabriel, "And let's put Tomcat here into the switchboard for processing, we'll need it!".
This has been the third episode of the Void Fruitcake series titled VF #3: Poets are Born, That's the Trouble. For a list of all episodes, go to Darkwin's Personal Space. To read the next episode, click on to VF #4: Keep Your Big Mouth Shut
