Neverending Story [Game]

[Stratowarius 3.0]

How about good answer?

[Hubble86]

Ja,ja, here I am again! With some answers, more gray hair and wrinkles like RoBo, but NOT from laughter. No, no, from struggle under the weeks we had to flap around in different times.

That damn Alien-Pekka is a real nuisance. He thinks he knows everything and can do everything, but gosh how he makes a mess of the most. I had to incapacitate him with a bottle fishliveroil hidden in Koska to cause the most violent allergic reaction, anyone has ever seen.

So when Pekka was down and out, with big red dots all over, my calculating brain got an idea. Maybe our invisiblepills could help us again? If we all were invisible couldn't that nasty alien timevirus see us and must leave us in peace.

So we all took a pill and after fourteen minutes we had disappeared. Pekka lay there redletter-furious over this attempt to kill him, and when he came round, he started to yell nasty invective, especially to me. But when he got no answers, he must have thought that we left him, and that made him even more angry. But I will not repeat the ugly things he vomited up, in this nice forum.

The timevirus must have been embarrassed, since it was contented with the roaring Pekkas company and they went away to the next timeexcursion.

We sighed with relief. Free at last. And we blessed the invisibility in our own time, even if we now were a bunch of bupping heads with slightly discernible asses...

[Hubble86]

JAJA! I again! Pekka is still out there, in spacetime, and I can recapitulate our strange timetravels. We were probably chosen, as social experiments, by some weird scientist on Pekka's home-planet Excessa, and Pekka was a part in that.

The first timechange, to the Battle of Koskalukka, was to our benefit and we blessed it. But we ought to have understood, that there was a price to be paid.

The next tour went to a live Jurassic park and the Rexes were a real trial. I am sure that they had eaten us all, if they could have figured out how and got a little more time. They were false and cunning.

But we were suddenly close to the Southpole on a ship called Endurance. The year was 1915 and the leader was an explorer named Shackleton. I am sure he saw us very clear, but that he thought we were some ice-hallucination. We almost froze to death and were very happy when we suddenly were in a strange bar in Tuvalu in Laos. The year was now 1922. There we from some unknown reason met the Salvadorian poet AGAG.

Together with him we ended up in Dragonland and I have no idea when this was. The redeyed and two-headed dragons swarmed around us and spitted fire from their sour stomachs. It burned like fire from hell.

But HUH. What is it I hear now? Pekka!

Bangelibang! Bomkabum! From the farm! He is back and he is angry! Huh! He is looking for us. Vojne! Vojne! Our heads are still bupping and our asses a little more visible. What to do? What to do?

[Hubble86]

Who needs friends when you can sit alone in your room and drink?

Dick Butt

[Hubble86]

This is probably my last post here, and I have hold back a lot. But I couldn't disappear, as so many others have done, without an explanation.


Pekka was back, and found us hiding, in the barn. He told us, that there was only one time-journey left and that we were going to the future.

We landed June 23, 2025 in Times news-room, in London. The locals were empty but a paper from June 19, lay on a desk. The frontpage said with big black warletters that "The End is near", and on page three the Prime Minister said, that the war between Islam and Catholicism could end all life on Earth. With the new bombs, that destroyed all living molecules, only insects would survive. But all buildings would stay intact.

An UN-Chairman talked about diplomatic solutions and sending more troops.

We looked around in London, but couldn't see a single human. They seemed to have dissolved in thin air. It was extremely scary and we begged Pekka to take us home. He did and we all cried a lot.

We decided to keep quiet about it all and Pekka closed the farm and gave his goats to a farmer in Koskalukka. Then he returned to Excessa. I destroyed my lab and all invisible-material and went back to my calculating at Nokia, Freckle is back in Lund, Nea is sprinkling in Florida, the Russian pilot flew home and Kööski is back on his paper.

We are all changed, but we have a vague hope that all those strange experiences are side-effects and hallucinations from those damn invisiblepills.

We are still invisible, with bupping heads and dimly seen arses, but we dress in complete clothing and
can function reasonable normal. But there are many vojnes and huus, that is for sure...

[AGAG]

But but... eastwards, far on Novosivirsk, an old recorder was playing a poem by Andrei´s father over and over again. It was in Russian but one could safely assume it was a love poem and that, somewhere, there was a mad man with a razor, underneath or over the sheets. On the frozen wasteland sat a girl with a prepared cello, with eyes closed.

On the horizon appeared a tambourine-person. Playing on 7 and 5, reciting a sacred chant. Open eyes, to see the road.

The city laid in front of them. Led by mongolian airs, they clapped over a recited lyiric poem.

"Here we may find Andrei"

Then he saw the girl was barefooted and felt how cold she must have been, all the time playing her cello with no winter boots and no winter gloves.

After dusk it was too cold and they entered the weird city. 3 drunk friends chanted and laughed besides a vomit pond, but they were happy. Happier than anyone could have been. Behind them was the cafe, and a man grunted while serving very expensive coffee. 3 hungarian men passed by, like a symbol.

Another men sat with them and he spoke about time itself and spaceships. All they could remember after were some phrases "Process of involution", "Absolute sun", "Beelzebub in England". They thought he was mad.

"How much does it cost to go to Nepal from here?" asked the girl smiling "Pokhara, please, annapurna." The tambourine man and the waiter exchanged looks and laughed. They thought she was mad.

A shitting man on the other side locked eyes with them and stared fiercely, that could only mean one thing...

[AGAG]

Anger awakes at midnight, and after a sore thrusting session tambourine man and cello girl parted ways. Maybe never to be seen again in this life.

The story was suddenly wanting for heroes and characters and metaphors. Such a lonely desert in which anyone could ejaculate or pee or shit all over. The only thing that remained was the shitting man, with the fierce eyes. In the emptiness, he shat over nothing, and the nothingness shat over him. He excreted symbols and geometry and he was concentrated as if his anus was about to birth a new world, a new religion.

He didn´t budge when he found himself in eternal nothingness, he saw the darkness and it pleased him for there he found concentration to keep shitting with his body with his soul and all his being.

The universe depended on one anus. The universe whole concentrated on his bowels, his grunts and the the holy sphincters.

The shitting man squatted a little bit lower and a colorful butterfly exited his anus at full speed.

She said the first words...

[Goal Stockhausen]

The shitting man has a shitparanoia,
And must talk about shit all the time. Halluloja,
He had now acquired a rainbow-diarrhea,
Since he was drinking Salvador-pee-tea,
He planned to make a world-shit-record,
And be a famous and great shitting-lord,
He would make more shit than Novosivirsk-plumbers,
And win the contest with nine or ten numbers.

The Cellogirl, without both mittens and shoes,
Played a cantata or was it a blues?
The three tambourine-men heard it all wrong,
So they roared a Novosivirsk shit-rap-song,

But now the door flew open, with a bumkaplunk,
And in came Andrei, drunk as a skunk,
His fathers poem was more bad than bad, they say,
So he wanted to kill anyone in his way,
The tambourine-man and the cellogirl are, if they stay,
The first two persons he is going to slay,
And that is what can happen in Novosivirsk today...

[AGAG]

Goal´s poems are always so soothing.

Shitting man was troubled, so he decided to shit the moon. Finally some hope, that lonely self-turning sphere, for suddenly there was something was to lie on. To sit and contemplate. So shitting man rested on his anus´ creation. His desire to shit was assuaged for the time being so he started to pick up a habit of creating songs, not with his anus, but now through his mouth-apparatus.

He walked in the dark, for there was still no sun. He had very good vision though, from all the fierce staring. In some months he felt unbearably alone, on the verge of tears, he pledged his anus to give him some sort of company, but the desire to shit had disappeared completely and there was no sign of it returning. Desperate was the shitting-man, so he started to eat rocks, to have something to shit later.

Some days later, promenading the shitting man over his moon, he heard a bustle, but not in his anus. The moon trembled and roared, a bit louder every time, and a crack appeared on the white moon-skin. A red light came from within and slowly but surely, there appeared a cherry tree, emanating red light through its bubbly fruits.

Dumbfounded, the shitting man reflected upon this. "Now the moon has an anus, and it shits cherry trees. I didn´t plan on this, my execration is execrating. Will it end? Will the cherry tree shit some other thing on his own? Will I ever get to shit again?"

He had no time to find answers, for his stomach started to rumble, violently, like never before. His anus tingled and puckered as if there was no tomorrow. A bright light exited trough his sphincter, strong, pure.

What could have happened later?

[Goal Stockhausen]

Why the ? Sooth what?

The shitting man had shit enough. He had won the shit-competition, with ten points over the Novosivirsk plumber, that earlier had the world-record. But was he happyhappy? No, not at all!

His bowels was disturbed of all the Salvadorian pee-tea and he thought about his revenge-resources. He looked at the Moon for an answer. Then he saw that the Moon looked back at him and that he blinked with one eye. The Moon blinked? At him! There was also a cherry-tree and the Moon sort of pointed at it, as an answer to a question.

The shitting man (his name is Orvar) had heard a stupid story about a man on the moon that had tried to start a goatfarm there, but that was of course a fairy-tale. Man on the Moon, haha! Even the story about some astronauts there was a silly tale. Only something NASA had fabricated to get more tax-money.

But now! A cherry-tree? What will the world say ?

[AGAG]

Because! . It sooths all the chaos.

News over Russia and Argentina couldn´t stop talking about the curious findings on the moon. CIA was helpless and couldn´t hide the facts: Yes, the moon had an anus, which instantaneously subsumes it in the wide category of living things, and YES it shits cherry trees, of all the things a natural satellite could shit.

Scientists hurried an came up with theories, as how could the moon be a living system and sketched spheric lymbic architectures, digestive systems, dermis and epidermis in the moons surface, a heart and even feelings. Hippie-organizations spread trying to make the moon feel loved by the creatures it was condemned to circle for centuries and centuries. If the moon was alive, moreover, maybe the earth was too. Anus-searching parties all over the world from all the countries imaginable started plotting its lands in hope of finding inside its territories the miraculous earth-anus.

In argentina, celestial observatory "malvinas" started reading strange surges of light in one of the moons craters. Indeed, a young telescopist named Itno first catched sight of a squirming man in Janssen, in the south east of the moon. The sight was pitiful, a man squirmed with a painful expression while balls of fire, apparently with life on his own, exited his now deformed anus. Fire diahrrea.

After contemplating the horrorful sight in his telescope, Itno was left with no words and knew not how to convey its findings to his superiors...

[Goal Stockhausen]

I don't understand the , but ok...

...so he said nothing, but contacted the Worldchampion in shitting, Orvar Korvar. Hadn't he seen how the Moon blinked?

Orvar wasn't sure anymore. Maybe the blinking could be a man coming out from the Moons cratereye. Itno looked in his telescope again. The man jumped around. And Huh! It wasn't a man. At all! It was a goat and Itno could see how he opened his mouth in several määääs. A määäing goat on the Moon. HUH!

So the old story about a goatfarm-experiment was also true and maybe had there been astronauts there too.

Now had all astronomers seen the goat and there were fierce discussions how to save the poor animal, that had started to chew on the cherry-tree.

But suddenly came, from the dark side, a bunch of highjumping goats of all sizes. They were lively and seemed happy. Could there be a Moonanus as the anusfixated Salvador-poet claimed. And lived those goats inside the Moon and were only out now for some sunbathing? Were the craters body-openings on an existence the humans never had encountered before. HUh! Living big strange objects in the endless space. That gave a very scary perspective. On everything!

What would the Universe come to? Now?

[AGAG]

But.. but, you always understand.

A fringe of forgetfulness and solidarity spread throughout the human race. As the news of newfound life spread, people were humbled, finally they were not the center of attention of the whole world, people started to wonder more and more about the moon goats and stopped wars to quench their curiosity. NASA received more funds than ever on its history and started working closely with the military.

In no time, HubbleX was in orbit, a telescope with 3 times more zoom than his previous model and with 100 more megapixels. So the CIA and NASA, in their new joint headquarters started plotting even the smallest rock of the moon.

Finally in peace, people that were not that interested in the skies could turn around and heft the numerous microuni-worlds they could submerge their consciousness into. So many possibilities that they were first dumbfounded, askance, lost. It was too much, so they stood on the ground, asking for advice to the trees and the rocks, who seemed better suited for the tasks of existing. So sorted out, they later found, that they had no time to answer their desperate pleas.

Meanwhile, Orvar became NASA´s head shittologist that analysed the moongoat shit that probes recovered. Itno was in the history books with 5 plans for biographies in the presses.

Forlorn, the non-scientific population returned to a child-like state and rediscovered new uses for their senses. It felt so good to distinguish the feeling of a tree trunk from water, from the grass and the inside of the wing of a parakeet, from the earth and a phallus. They could feel more attentively and they sometimes decided to engulf themselves in the thought of color ponds surrounding every physical manifestation.

"What the fuck!" exclaimed the head of state, when he was informed of the imbecile state the citizens were reaching. They couldn´t even put on their socks, because the feeling was too pleasurable. The days that rained, people died because of the sensual overdose the rain provided when it was combined with a gentle breeze that caressed the tress.

What the fuck indeed, said CIA agent Benno von Archimboldi, before forwarding the theory that the moon goats were behind the sensual imbecilization of the common people...

[Goal Stockhausen]

Understand? I? Nono, the longer I stay on this Forum the less I understand...


It became soon a total chaos. Humans looked at the Moon with different, scary eyes. What did it hide? Inside? Behind it's cold fucking eyes and strange grin? And the goats? What did they really DO there?

A mad professor in Finland had found aliengenes in goats on a farm there. No one had believed him then. But now?

Orvar Korvar had stopped his competshitting and was now a chiefideolog at NASA. He made the Moongoats the new gods. Soon a CIA-agent, Benny von Archenboldi, saw the opportunity and proclaimed himself a Goat-Mohammad. He moved to Pekka Nurmis farm in Koskalukka. Took back the goats. Married a nine years old girl. Grow a thick beard. Dressed in some curious mantle and started a goatrapband. With määbääsongs.

The villagers didn't dare to protest, even if this was worse than the mad professor and his gang. They had other things to ponder over. Their existence. Why were we humans on just this globe? To kill each other? Love each other? And make new humans that kill each other?

And what about those goats, on the Moon. Where there goats inside the Earth too? Questions, questions? Best to sing with GoatMohammad his goatrapsongs. This Goatrock...

[AGAG]

Still, I won´t stop:

Allah, in his green-white palace, overheard the obnoxious anathemas of human beings and CIA agents. He stopped his teenage girls from dancing and stepped outside, in a cloud. Millions of spirit were chanting "Allah hoo, Allahoo" But he paid no heed.

Allah was angry and no one could stop him. He went to Muha´s house, in the outskirts of the kingdom of heaven were he liked to sleep with goats. Indeed, he was asleep using his favorite goat as a pillow: Ali.

Ali tried to stop Allah from waking up his dear muhammad "Baa, Bä! Can´t this wait master Allah? Heee´s had a though day you know! Bä! Prophetizising and all that, he saw the comets and the radiation of moon goats that changed DNA and and.." But Allah didn´t let Ali finish and he turned him into a girl goat and send 3 young male goats in heat to her direction. "Bä! Ba!" Alia went screaming.

"Muha!" said Allah, "We have another funny human running around and spreading shit upon our name and pissing on my holiness. Whatever shall we do with Benno...

[Goal Stockhausen]

Oh dear! I give up! Jaja! I understand!

"I must DO something", thought Allah. I have already big problems with that hairy KoranMohammad and now there is this GoatMohammad too. The old one promised all those sandidiots 78 virgins for every killing and I haven't seen a virgin, even on postcards, since last century, and she was a nun spared for me alone. The teens that are dancing here are mostly groupies and far from virgins.

So all this bearded and gullible fools, that are queuing up outside the gate, are doomed to stay there for eternity and a veeery long eternity. Haha! Does that make Allah a racist?

On planet Excessa Pekka Nurmi saw in his telescope how the GoatMuhammad had taken over the farm and the goats. He became very angry and beamed down to Koskalukka. But invisible this time.

Benny had built an altar in the barn and there he worshiped himself.
"Benny,Benny. Holy Goatgod, Now I drink my holy blood,( A big glass of red wine, HUH) And will make a big flood, That kill all the Mussemod, And give me sweet virgins in an overflood".

Pekka gritted his teeth and Benny heard the strange sound. What was that? A sign that his prayers had been heard?

"I will give you virgins", thought Pekka, and pulled hard in Bennys magnificent beard. But gosh, gosh! It was false and Pekka throw it in disgust on the floor.
In rage he also pulled the silly mantle and gosh, gosh. Again! Benny the goatgod had no underpants. So he stood there naked and beardless. A pitiful CIA-agent. A screaming agent till that...

But outside the barn waited...

[AGAG]

That´s it!

Outside the barn was a most curious figure, demanding attention the same way an accident or a fierce boa in a residential area. The same hands, the same hair, a purple sock with blue/green light emanating from it... Yes! it couldn´t be no one else but Freckle! wearing one disheveled plait, as if after a fight or a rough night. And what was that she was holding on her delicate hands? Couldn´t that be a flamethrower?? Yes! No mistakes to be made there. And wasn´t she throwing flames to bearded muhammadian men that were suddenly everywhere screaming Allahuakbar?? Of course!

OH to see how she smiled. And they all watched as she got and chased even the last one, and afterwards we tried to call her for some tea but with no success. She kept throwing flames to the husks of dead men, gracefully, with the right amount of gusto, and an interruption would have been like awaking a delicate flower from sweet purple slumber.

But fuel isn´t infinite to burn things, in capitalism, so when the throwing apparatus halted screechingly, as if halting reveries, she finally turned around. "Huh, didn´t see you there!"

So Pekka and Orvar had finally understood, she was there to halt benno and halt Allah himself. The moon had started to send waves and waves of imbecilization to the most distant countries. Now even in Argentina they were squirming and being generally impolite to each other, some people dressed of goats and there were sense-truces.

She could stop Allah. How exactly will she proceed, that was another matter...

[Goal Stockhausen]

What it?

So Freckle is now a curious, disheveled person seeking attention in the most spectacular way? With a flamethrower? And hopes to kill Allah himself? Huh! That girl is really something for her self!

But, she wasn't alone. Her friend, the Salvadorian Poet, was also there, and he wanted attention too. But he had bought his weapon in IKEA, and some of the screws were missing. So it only said Puff, Puff and left a little thin smoke-pillar.

Pekka heard the goat-men's screams, when their beards flamed and he went out and took the weapon from Freckle, that surprised saw how it floated away, as in some invisible's hands.

Now came also the naked and screaming Benny out. And if Freckle had hoped to see the Goat-Muhammad, she must have been disappointed. Without his silly mantle and the magnificent false beard he looked, as an average American CIA-agent and not very interesting.

Benny thought that the flaming, disheveled girl, that burnt so many of his supporters was one of Satan's people, so he raised his scream five octaves, to a sharp shrill, that injured all ears and broke the windows within two miles.

More bomkabum also. Pekka had got enough and dragged Benny, Freckle and the poet to his bubble.

Because Pekka Nurmi, the alien, allergic to sushi had a plan...

[Karlheinz Stockhausen]

Get your facts first, then you can distort them as you like!

Dick Butt.

[AGAG]

Oh so many friends!

"Oh so many friends!" said the Salvadoran man, with his shit dustthrower, as he saw, descending from the sky, an Nibiru-Earth transplanetary. And who was descending from it but Karl? The childhood friend, the lunatic uncle.

"Ah! Aber, children!" He said after dusting of some space powder from his space jacket "You can´t be left alone for two minutes! You always put Earth and cosmic balance in danger! You´re childish enough to think that killing a couple of bearded Muhammads will cure the inbalance of the universe? haha! no no, Allah will not stop for some deaths. He wants it all you know."

After setting some blueprints and reckon information in a Fjord´s dinner table, Karl spoke to the salvadoran, the freckle and Pekka in a fatherly matter. "Sehen wir! This is where it all emanates, the goats, the shady moon, the imbecility, the beards! It is from the Qaba, also known as Waba, that magic cube in Mecca. Inside there lives a most curious man that has been there for centuries, gathering the energy of every muhammadian on Earth several times a day. He wanted to charge himself in order to unleash an onslaught on earth. Many of my composition tells you about this fiendish figure but nooo, you wouldn´t listen! Bah! Children!"

And after scolding them a bit more, they all hopped in the transplanetary "Cinerum", Karl rationed weapons and ham sanwiches to the passangers and set the ship on and a non-stop route to the source of all the problems... Saudi Arabia...

[Goal Stockhausen]

Pekka said nothing when they flew over Europe, but when they were close to Saudi he reacted.
"Turn back this damn, ridiculous vessel. At once!" he roared. "Turn back, I say! This joke has gone on too long now. You Challe has apparently not understood, that I am an alien general from the planet Excessa and we know everything about that fake-waba and what is going on there. They replace the wabaman every third year and he is NOT kept alive with all those kneeling. This is the big fraud in that religion."

Benny, the naked CIA-agent, tried to get back his authority.
"There are no aliens on Earth. And I know that you are a goatfarmer in Finland."

Pekka laughed a nasty laugh. "Soo, you know that, little man? And you in CIA are a bunch of pompous nothings. But I am kind today, so I will make you to a nice Arabic woman, in a nice black burka, since I hardly can stand any longer to see a centimeter of your pitiful and ugly body.

And swosch! There the CIA-man became a she and only his scared eyes were visible.

"And you Challe? A German house-wife perhaps?"

"No, no, for heavens sake, I'm a very viral man and I believe in your power. Please! I can't stand to be a woman. They can't compose a single sonata."

Freckle and the Poet hid behind the now well-dressed Benny. They know too well what Pekka could do, if he was in the wrong mood, and this didn't look too good. He was irritable and ill-tempered.

Pekka saw their pale faces and...

[Goal Stockhausen]

...laughed his horse evillaugh, when he looked at the hiding Freckle and the Poet. "You two will snap sex. You Freckle can be a greenbirdpoet with curly Salvadorhair and the Poet can have freckledots and very disheveled plaits."

"You Aberchalle, are from now a German House-Frau, and I am sure you will compose excellent yodelsongs, like those in "Sound of music". And if someone isn't happy with this, you can always be a pretty goat in my alienherd.

Challe was upset, the Poet was upset, but most upset was Benny, the CIA-Mohammad."This is NOT acceptable! I will protest in UN!"

"Pfff", said Pekka," What do you expect from them? Sexabusesoldiers? Pfff. Again! You ignorant fool!"

Benny paled, even more, behind his burka and said no more.

Now the farmdoor opened and ÖHubble and Nea came out. "What on Earth has happened with you", said Öhubble and looked at his daughter, with the curly Salvadorhair and the poetical eyes. And at the Poet with the very unruly plaits and freckles all over.

"Huh", said Nea." And who are those ladies. The one with the checkered apron seems familiar."

Pekka laughed. Again! "May I introduce Mrs Challe and Miss Benny. They will soon make us a delicate dinner...



But, but, The Hause-Frau, with the checked apron, was furious. German furious... and, and...

[Karlheinz Stockhausen]

I seem to be the last man standing here, but it can't be helped. The Story must go on...


Jaja! I was Germanfurious. But I didn't dare to protest, since that damn goatfarmer threatened to transform me to a gnatgnat or a cockroach, if I didn't obey him.

So there we was, in the sparse farmkitchen, the goofy Benny-Mohammad-Burka and I, the famous German composer.

I, a vegan, had to deal with a grotesque, big bird and the first I had to do was to cut off it's uglyugly head. HUH!

Benny-Burka was totally incompetent. He had never in his futile CIA-life prepared a meal, and he complained constantly over everything, but mostly over his new life, as a Burka, and he regretted bitterly that he ever sat his feet in this Koskalukka. A suburb of Hell.

I thought, that it couldn't be worse, but so entered that Freckle and her Salvadorian friend. More whimpering! The freckled poet tried desperately and sobbing to get some order in his disheveled hair and the girl, now without freckles, but with short Salvadorian hair, mumbled and mumbled in tears about flying green birds in an hostile forest. HUH what a circus!

I hated it! And suddenly...

[Karlheinz Stockhausen]

meanwhile in the Koskalukka farmkitchen...


I was still furious. Stockhausenfurious! But what could I do? The choice was gnatgnat or cockroach.

So I obediently googled a recipe for fried uglybird and the result was surprisingly good. But I was all the time occupied with one big thought. How to kill. How to murder an alien.

Shoot or stab? No. He had no heart and his blood was made of stardust. And he had to my knowledge no Achilles-heel in his universe body.

But then,suddenly, I remembered that he was dangerously allergic to sushi. Fish? Where could I find some fish? Of course not on the farm. But, but hadn't that professor used fishliveroil to cure the hairy apes?

I sneaked into the lab, and there in a cupboard stood a bottle, with the salvationoil. Hallelujah!

I soaked the lettucesalad with the heavenly liquid and served it with the ugly bird.

Bomkabom! Pekka was hungry and gobble, gobble. Soon his face blossomed like a red rose and he started to shake, and gosh how he shook. He had also difficulties to breathe and it was heard some weak peeps for help.

An universal skunk was fighting for his life.

But, but and huh huh...That damn earlier so freckled, but now shortcurlyhaired fool interfered...

[Karlheinz Stockhausen]

The now notfreckled female fetched her bag and picked up two adrenaline-pens, that she temptingly hold, close to the aliens pink and quivering butt.

"I will let you die if you don't make us all normal again. Immediately!" she said.

Pekka groaned and gave her the evil eye, but after some respiratory chirps he nodded angrily. And bumkabum,there we were, our old grande selves again. Then she, sorry to say, injected the pens in the alien butt.

Pekka roared very loud, and I don't know, if it was from pain and frustration, or if she aroused his fucking fury. But we were very happy. Freckle had all her freckles and her disheveled hair back, and the Poet looked even more curlypoetic. And I was the same handsome, stringent, German composer as before.

But poor Benno Burka, that had lost his dress, stood there now in all his wispy nudity. A spiny, pale CIA-agent, with not so much to show the world. His akbar-goat-Muhammad-dreams, about a paradise full of virgins, had disappeared in the blue Finnish sky and he was just another disappointed little man.

Pekka was furious and muttered dirty words, about my cooking and I realized that Koskalukka wasn't the place to spend some time. So I rushed out to leave the Finnish-Russian border, in my Volkswagen-Nibury-Earth...

But, but! It wasn't there...

[Karlheinz Stockhausen]

Jaja! I don't give up before the admins throw me out...


I looked around, but no vessel could be seen, so I asked Öhubble, but he was worried for other reasons. He had hid 10 bottles of fish-liver-oil and they were now also missing. He feared that the earlier FLO-addicted Nea had got the taste for the drug again, with my salad and that he now was on the "go".

Nea had pilot-license and we suspected that he in some drug-intoxication had "borrowed" my bubble, for a joyride.


In the meantime at NASA in US...

An young astronomer Gary Eagle had the nightshift at the Moon-telescope, and since the Moon was full, he was extra observant on the lighted crater close to the cherry-tree, that earlier had astonished the world.

Suddenly, between two blinks, he saw something. A man! A man came out from the shadow. A MAN ON THE MOON! Huh!

And in the bottom of the crater stood something like a silvery bubble and reflected the sunlight. The man hurried to that bubble, went in and left the door open.

Now came another man out. He had a goat, a black goat, in leash and they ran to the bubble and jumped in. Then the bubble lifted from the ground and flew out from the light towards the dark side.

Astronomer Eagle pushed all the larmbuttons he had, and the whole building vibrated. He magnified the image in the system and all NASA could see how the bubble turned over to the dark side...

But did they tell the world? NO, they didn't...

[Karlheinz Stockhausen]

Day off...


Gary Eagle was a very ambitious young astronomer, and he was extremely proud over the attention his button-pressing had got. He was even asked to be present at the secret conference, about the moonactivity.

On this gathering chiefbosses and overchiefbosses wrinkled their foreheads, when they over and over again scrutinized the moonvideo. They magnified it to the biggest big, but since the men wore oxygenmasks they mostly looked at the goat and the bubble.

How could the goat breath in the moonatmosphere without mask? That was one question. And the bubble. What drove it? And where was it going? To the dark side? Many incredible questions and no acceptable answers.

And humans? Humans on the Moon? Humans? Were they really humans? Or what else? HUH!

But hadn't one of them a t-shirt with a vomiting elk? And the word STRATOVARIUS? It sounded a little human? Didn't it? STRATOVARIUS?

This was a moment Gary Eagle had waited for. He stuttered a permission to speak and all the chiefs nodded kindly to the young buttonpusher.

"It so happens that I know about that vomiting elk. I have a t-shirt like that, and it is from a very good Finnish powerband. I have all their records too."

All the bosses foreheads wrinkled again and even more. A Finnish powerband? With a vomiting elk? Records? A Finnishpowerbandfan? On the Moon???

Big HUH...

[Goal Stockhausen]

Meanwhile in the Oval Room...


President Obama made a full palmface. He had just read a secretsecret, classified message from Charles Bolden in NASA. It laconically said.

AN AMERICAN SPRINKLERGUY, A FRECKLED GIRL AND A BLACK GOAT. ON THE MOON. WHAT TO DO?

Obama had no idea. Call UN? No, they never believed him and this was too absurd and incredible. John Kerry could maybe help. He was after all foreign Minister and the Moon was foreign, wasn't it?

But Kerry only laughed. "Someone must be joking. No human can be on the Moon. There is no air. It must be Trump that is pulling your leg. HAHA! Did you really buy that? HAHA! He can be funny sometimes, that Trump."

Obama was breathing again. "Of course. How could I be so stupid. But now someone is knocking at my door."

It was the pale NASA-boss Bolden, and he had a bunch of pics of two persons walking with a black goat. ON THE MOON!

They had masks, but took them off and laughed heartily straight into the NASA-telescope.

CIA had identified them as Pablo Nea Priaposon from Washington DC and Sofie Öhubble from Sweden The Goat was an ordinary Russian goat.

The report added in big red letters...

THOSE TWO TOGETHER CAN ONLY MEAN DISASTER...

[Kööski]

Pffff...Earlier I was strictly prohibited to write a single word about the crazy farm in Koskalukka and now there are other sounds in my editors pipe. I have been asked, begged, threatened and endangered to find out, why and how two persons, from this incredible farm, can walk around on the Moon.

So I have really tried, but no one has the least credible explanation. The German composer, that is working on "a Moonlight Serenade", is most angry over the loss of his Volkswagenbubble. And the professor is frustrated over the missing fishliveroil and his daughter, in that order...But maybe most over the attention from media all over the world.

The Stratomembers assure, that the spectacular t-shirt, with the vomiting elk, is NOT a publicity stunt. It is an old shirt and no longer for sale, and they have no idea why or how it can be on the Moon.

A spokesman for the band says, that it is an enormous pressure on them now, and they can only hope, that the two moonwalkers can come back to the Earth pretty soon.

On the Moon the two have disappeared in the bubble to the dark side, and the sale of telescopes and binoculars has gone through the roof all over the world. Everyone would like to see that vomiting elk...

[Kööski]

All the Earths telescopes and binoculars were focused on the Moon, as long as the satellite was visible. And suddenly there was a movement at the border to the dark.

A foot! Two feet! And a guy! Yes, it was the American sprinkler, Pablo Nea! Wow!

Then another, smaller foot! Freckled! The girl!. They had no space suits, so one could clearly see the name STRATOVARIUS over a vomiting elk.

A big, unison GOSH flowed out in the atmosphere, the stratosphere and the dark emptiness, like a huge soundtsunami. It hit the Moon and the couples ears.

They smiled, when they understood, that they were observed, and started to jump higher and higher, like kangaroos. The yellow moondust flew around them and it was a sight no one had ever seen before.

And now one could also see the back of their shirts, and it had a message.

In big red letters it said.

FOR HIGH MOONJUMPS USE DYRO BATTERIES.

So this was the mystery with the man on the Moon? HUH An ad for a battery? HUH! Again!



And Strato has to print more elkshirts, something they never thought was possible...