Neverending Story [Game]

[Arnold Layne]

Look pal, it has been my dream to DOMINATE. And I did it, even if Stockhausen ruined it after a while. Now, it is back to the old ways. The old HUHing. In moderation and self control.

Arnold Layne

[Derrick Rose]

BECAUSE, of all the HUHing going on! The plane was filled with mostly 600 Leedsmen, causing it to be over crowded, and none could think straight because of all the HUHing. The only thing that kept everyone sane was...

[Ilsekena]

'Synchrofazotron!'-Ilse screamed. Everyone looked at her horrified. Even all that HUHing stopped.
'Whaaat? I just wanted to think up a clever word. Butt I don't know what does it actually mean yet. I'm feeling it might be the key to something...'
"Nah, it's all bullshit! -Adrian interrupted her. "Never trust the blondes. They can only..." He didn't finish his speaking as suddenly....

[AGAG]

"I don't know" said a voice from a hill "I do not know which hell this all has been scorched with.. I don't know which bucket of shit have we dabbled into... However! I will venture fiercely and bravely within this shitentanglement. I bring.. I bring! big swords! and.. a tall horse made of pureness and good. I bring dreams and purity! Haha! No more excessaes." Ah yes, it was the poet, mounted, indeed, on a tall horse. The horse neighed poetically and loudly as a closure. But the poet's elegant speech was rooted on the most ignorant wishful thinking. What sounded like a heroical neigh of a strong horse was actually a desperate gasp of air. The animal was green, ill-stricken and in the verge of death. The poet was a bit thin from all the watermelon soups and his big sword was fundamentally a piece of plastic. Made in Guang-dong. Despite all this, they galloped down the hill bravely and with steady gestures. In the middle of their path, two ducks were fucking fiercely and carelessly. The horse was half-blind and he stepped on one of them on his way, making a crushing noise.

"Oh no!" Cried the surviving duck, after realizing he was fucking half a duck. "NOno! This cannot be.. My love! You have exploded!! Oh no.. this wasn't my intention at all. I got carried away..." He started panicking and he quacked around with a pathetic facial expression. "My cvack! My cvack... cvack" His wings flapped and he made little jumps. All the ducks on the vincities gathered around the screaming one. Some laughed and some cried. One lustrous duck came running from her house. "What on earth is THIS!" She wuacked. " Wuack! What were you doing with HER?? Don't think I am cynical.. I do feel sorry for that duck. Butt!! He swore me love on our nest just a week ago. He even promised a lush-egg. My love?? PFFT!

Love is a stranger! Oh, what great danger..
Pieces of poo... oh what a great loose.
Fucking male ducks.. what a big fuck. "

The quacks became unbearable and the horse collapsed from a heartstroke several meters away from there. The poet fell with his green horse and his sword broke. He also cried. "Oh no! What will I do now? I must... liberate!" All the ducks were now fighting in a group and they were biting each other and crying at the same time. The turmoil extended further into other species and now the ants were rioting on some ground-holes. The red ones demanded special rights for their redness and the black ones denied them. A war broke loose and a pine tree became the battle field. The poet tried to paste his sword with industrial glue he found on the ground. It was all chaos and everyone was just expectating. He finally repaired it and approached everyone to say hi in a brave manner.

"What's with all the braveness?" Asked freckle "Your horse is dead and he crushed a duck. There's nothing THAT brave in all that" The poet answered with a big smile, explaining with his brave reasoning:...

[ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ]

Thank Priapus you are back. Freckle has been ungovernable.

" Kill ducks is the most brave thing you can do",said the poet. "Especially, if the fucking birds are fucking. Then they are really dangerous with their sharp beaks and crisp feet. My horse would never have died if he hadn't tried to kill both those two fucking scary idiots, at the same time. He gave his life for me. The plastic-sword was worthless".

"You are really a modern Don Quixote that fight ducks with plastic and you risked your life in that senseless struggle, "said Freckle, "Duck rhymes with fuck and water-buck, and fuck is what they have their energies for. Duckwifes can't muck and they seldom do. They are more interested in their own fuck-freedom. To fuck other water-bucks I mean".

"HUH", said the poet, "You have a very non-romantic view on this. I see ducks as fucking unpoetical, feathered, water splashing, broad-beaked, creatures. A danger to humanity with their promiscuous life. Ducks are fuck-yucks and someone has to take care of the problem they are, for all of us. Even the ants have understood that. They invaded the duck-pond and all drowned, but the ducks had to fly and the place is clean now. No fucking ducks, no horse and no ants either. This is democracy".

"Ja, ja, You are an idealist and now you have to rest a bit. You had high fever and you shouldnt alone bear the burden of hunting fucking water-bucks.

Suddenly, down the hill came something very big and frightening. It was an over-grown Water-buck. An Arnold-fuck-duck-vulgaris. He was angry-red.
"Who has been shitting in the pond and drowned all the ants there", he roared with his thundering duck-kvack," Kveck, kveck, kveck. I will break your neck, neck, neck...You killed my Kvuck-duck-fuck and now I have a feather with you to pluck, pluck, pluck. And you...

[AGAG]

Ungovernable? Freckle looks better than ever Maybe the problem was that fucking government in the first place.

You! You will fuck my tuck-muck in the luck-hole. Even if I have to force you." Arnoldfuck was, in reality, a very big and fat duck, master of the pond and he was very angry to realize one of his pseudovirgin-duckfucks was squished right next to his pond so carelessly. One could even think a homeless man was shitting grinded ducks in the area. A big insult for Arnold and his leedspool. "Nothing would make me happier" answered the poet, still in a brave stance "Than fucking your hole, dear Arnold; however, I have to reveal that this brave persona I have been presenting myself in the last few posts doesn't come without a reason, nor without sound goals, to which fucking your hole, specifically, would be detrimental. Ducks are, as a zoological rule, detrimental to quijotes. I could fuck, say, a swan, with no major consequences. But, oh, ducks.. Not good for bravery I'm afraid! I'll have to let go and get another horse.." Arnold, was not very pleased after the poetical verbosity. He flapped his wings and made several noises with his broad beak. He was trying to eat the poet.. And the poet was still a bit feverous and he was still shy underneath all those swords. He couldn't fight back or run. Arnoldfuck swallowed him after absorbing him with a current of wing-air.

"Again in a digestive system?" Said freckle, who was watching from a safe distance. "I should call my father.. The poet looked specially edible today! Not a good sign Huh!" But there was no need to call for pills. Something incredible was happening at the pond. Many of the former slave ducks started to rise upwards in an uproar against their voluminous leader. They felt that eating a poet was just a bit too much of literary gluttony. They started to muck in duck and they started to beak everything up. They bit Arnold and the bit him hard. He tried to roll away but he was too heavy and cumbersome after ingesting a human. He became submerged in a tide of angry black and white ducks and beneath an ocean of quacks, a leedspool man was moaning for air.. and beneath the heavy folds of leeds fat, a poet fought against the digestive enzymes with his plastic sword, that was indigestible.

"Take that!" Said the poet "I will reach the anus in no time... if I only can withstand the liver-force... Oh, I'm feeling so brave!" And swoosh wosh made his sword inside the stomach liquid. The poet had a great idea, he slashed the stomach in half and from the exterior came one hundred angry ducks, flapping furiously.

The poet managed to crawl his way out. Arnold wasn't dead. Oh no. He was redder than ever and he was eating ducks to restore his skin cells. The poet got out of the fight and he approached freckle. "What a great day!" he said "What do you say if we leave the ducks and find another horse for us to mount? We can ride towards Hubble. I miss him.."

But the fucks weren't done with. Arnold said:...

[ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ]

"I am Layne and I will never fuck the duck agayne!!!"

[ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ]

No,no, it is ok. I didn't know, you were such a gourmet, that you ate beautiful poets.


"Oh no, you are staying here, both of you. You Poet was very tasty and I would like to eat you. Again! I have that gift in my duck-intestinal channel that I can eat big things as poets and enjoy the taste of them, but control my stomach-acids to stay home and not attack my pray. Then I make a powerful puke and swish-swosh, the dish comes up again and I can start it all over. Again! The pray will be unharmed and he feels like he just showered, with a little scent from my stomach-juices in his hair. What do you think, Poet"?

"And what can there be in this adventure for the pray, to be swallowed by a big duck-fuck and bumped up and down in your fucking stomach"? asked the poet

"Ah, nothing, but the pleasure and if you want you can have that plaitgirl with you. I think I can swallow you both at almost the same time and you can even hold hands".

"Of all the duck-fuck-idiots I have met, you are the most duck-fucking", Freckle was upset, "You must be an Arnold-duck-Gigantus and you ought to be in a museum. Upholstered and not running around wild. I will ask my father to give you a pill, so we can fix that".

And as a letter from the old days Öhubble showed up and gave Arnold-the-duck-fuck a ten pound pill, saying it was a steak. The giant gobbled it and Bum-Kabumb, he was upholstered and they took him to a museum, for eradicated animals, and schoolclasses from all over the world came and looked at Arnold-Duck-Fuck-Gigantus. One of his kind.

But something very, very strange and unexpected happened. Arnolds left foot moved a bit and then his right one. His fucking eyes rolled and his beak opened wide. From his stomach's depth came a duck-roar, "Poet, Freckle, damn you hircine-misereres, you shall pay for this. You shall...

[AGAG]

Oh yes, I'm not sleeping but I am sleepy and I will talk about sleepy things.

you shall sleep in the beds of wisdom. That means, I'm going to eat you and then I will excrete you coated with ferrous knowledge of the world. No one can be wise without spending a day in my bowels, you will become friends with the enzymes of english philosophy. Come inside, there's PLENTY of room for all of you! But please, hurry, I am so fucking hungry."

Freckle and poet reflected their thoughts on each other. They saw the mirror each other had around their auras and they mutually agreed that this fatwisdom was something they both could find useful in the grand scheme of things. Of course, they weren't puerile in their actions, as they weren't just product of impulse and foolishness, but rather the conclusion of a manifold of thoughts, mainly freckle-rooted, since poets tend to misdirect all their mental labour to other meaningless tasks like solitude and peecoffee-distribution. In any sort of aception the word "Wisdom" might take, the poet needed some, since he was still a child wearing the attires of grown-up men. Nothing according his mental possibilities. He even had a fucking sword with him. Swords are only for grown-ups, even if they're made of plastic. After some second of reciprocal wordless thought-examination, they both silently agreed to venture inside the stinking bottomless funnel this Englishduck presented them as a formal possibility. They walked, of course, hand in hand (HIH for short) through a mass of still angry ducks that opened a big vroad path for them to walk without squishing any other unfortunate duck. It was a big parade and the fucks were the crowd, a parade of two humans walking towards their stinky future. A long sequence of thought-actions that deserved an Anatidaeical ovation, in the form of wuacks.

They entered the mouth and they slid in the trachea slide. A very fun rideslide. They landed in the liverpool directly. Just precisely where all the wisdom of men is concentrated. They splashed and spilled many sapience around the stomach. "It smells like a bunch of beerwine from Manchester" Pointed out freckle, a biolo-alcohol expert "It is acid and we should be careful. Ducks are in their mating season and they fly from their hometown to other towns to drink their beer and reproduce ponds of pure distilled beer. A fascinating spectacle. Yes yes!" The poet was clueless about ducks and he listened to freckle attentively and HIH, since he had never seen a fucking duck in his life, not to talk about one's alcohol-treatment organs. "The wisdom must be contained inside, deep inside his liver.." Continued freckle "We will have to cross the salty ocean of Rum. It is, unfortunately, very salty and we cannot swim there. We will have to use these fat concretions as rafts and then we will reach our goal. Let's gather some fat! You will be surprised, but I actually know several useful techniques of fat sculpture and I would be very happy if you could help me!"

And they did. They grabbed all the fat one could possibly need for 7 lifetimes and they made a submarine. It had a big livingroom and it had a grand piano made of fat that had a great sonority. It actually made the salty rumsea tremble. Also, they made many fat-based organisms that worked in the crew as their personal servants. "Oh gosh" Said the poet after the construction "I couldn't have imagined one could make so many things with fat. Maybe it is something we don't usually ponder about. The fat, oh, the fat... Apparently, we have a exactly 7.2 hours left until we reach the wisdom-core. We can spend all that time playing HIH-pianoduets. Oh, how I miss those old, beautiful times! What do you say my dearest freckle? HIH?"

Freckle was moved. She agreed and they started to play. They even constructed a fat-based organism to play the saxophone for them. It was a trio and the crew clapped around agitatedly after every song. It was beautiful and tear provoking.

The cruiser came to a halt suddenly. Interrupting Freckle's 19 minutes solo. They had reached their destination and...

[ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ]

There it was the liver-wisdom and the two HiH left their music and the fat-clumps, to drink all the bloody wiseblood. They were like leeches and they swollewed up like No Names.

"We are full now", said the poet, "I don't think we can be any wiser. At least not I, since I am a little child, as i said in my post, and you Freckle have lured me like an evil aunt.

"What, what? Has your mother found out what you are doing and about all your adventures with me. About when we slept in the sand? Oh no, Poet! I told you to be discreet, especially when it came to your mother. So she thinks I am a philander-aunt. A pedo? But Hallooo Poet-mother! I am not and he is not a child anymore. He is an almost grown-up and he is ready to take some vital steps in his life. We are only HIH and he is now full of duckfuck-liver-wisdom and must leave your skirts, since he longs so to wear his own. I Freckle am his best friend and capisce that, Poet-mother"

"Oh she will faint, when she reads this", the Poet blushed.

"Serves her right", said Freckle, "When she reads your posts"

Now they went back to the duckfuck-stomach, but suddenly there was a shaking on lower deck and a shower of something dotty came over them.

"Butt, butt", cried the Poet."It smells like horse-piss. Is it horse-piss"?

"No, hrm, hrm", said Freckle, "It is testosterone. He is fucking again"!

"What, what"?

" We must OUT, before he...you know"...

"No I don't know! Tell me! I am a child".

"Huh, haven't you heard about bees?

"What have bees to do with that testorone you are talking about"?...

"Oh! Nothing and everything...

Boom Kabumb...

[AGAG]

:lol:Oh, my mother would get pale if she ever found out!

Boom and broom! they were threaded violently along a VERY narrow channel in a biological process no one could correctly explain, thanks to the insufficient amount or dubious quality of the wisdom. First slowly and then at full force, like a flushing toilet with a very narrow end. Everything trembled everywhere. Their bones almost crushed against the walls of the throbbing duck-luck as it got narrower and narrower.. both also immersed on a disgusting mixture of testo-liquids that smelled like horsepiss. But! Poor arnold.. One could hear the angry neighs of a Big Fat Duck on the outside that quickly became sore and painful laments when both of the poets got stuck in the channel, at the point were the luck became unbearably small. "Wuak! Oh, this pain... I repent! I should have bought those enlargement pills that Hubble guy was selling the other day.. I was so confident on myself.. Oh, the errors.. Quack..!" The pressure inside the duck-luck concretion was unimaginable. The poets thought of death. "What a poetical way to die!" Said the poet, happy and quarrelling with all the undetermined matter floating around "I die in between an act of love and purity. In the mere conclusion of something I have yet to understand.. In the middle of two beautiful ducks.. I am content! This is beautiful, Oh, don't you think dear freckle?" She couldn't say a thing because immediately came a deafening noise and they were recklessly expulsed towards...

Where on EARTH was that!?.. Ah yes, it was a beautiful meadow... They landed, coated, on a mountaintop. Coincidentally, they landed hand in hand and the poet was scared. "What happened?" He said, shaking and clutching freckle's arm "I am still a child and I cannot comprehend a lot of things". Freckle laughed. "Haha! You will understand some day. Don't you worry little poet. Let's just thank Priapus that the Big Fat Duck is careless and doesn't use protection. Imagine! We could be being flushed in a toilet right now..." Of course, the poet didn't catch any meaning on this and he better examined the vincities. The feathers were everywhere! In fact, there was a tree made of feathers and a river of chicken wings was rumouring nearby. They promenaded on what seemed to be a vast and airy hill. After a couple of days they were starving and couldn't find any reliable source of food. "We have to get out of here" Said a dishevelled Freckle "We will swim in this lake and make our way from there! Follow me poet! Follow me."

They hopped inside an improvised boat made of fat and and...

[tpocain]

...Freckle and the poet realized that they were still inside Arnold the Fuck-Duck's belly. The boat had been made out of layers of cholesterol and dried up bile. They were power-puked into a puddle in the swamp--bulimia at its finest, perhaps--just like with the ancient Roman feasts...Arnold just wanted to make room to eat some more ducks and try them with lemon pepper, sweet and sour, and buffalo wing sauce. Freckle asked the poet, "Does he really think we taste good? When will this madness end?" The poet replied, "We could try begging Fucky-Ducky to stop devouring us, but it would be like eating a dead horse...(Clearly, this poet was capable of really bad jokes...)

[ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ]

Jaja!

"Do you think that was funny", said Freckle, "I didn't understand the fun. Are you and I like dead horses"?
"Hihi! Yes aren't we? Wasn't that funny? Hrm"?
"No. Maybe in Salvador dead horses can be funny and now we must find a way to escape this adventure. I will not stay a minute longer, in this duck-fuck-stomach. We can try to squeeze his appendix very hard"!
And they did! Squeeze, squeeze! The duck-fuck screamed. "My stomach, my fucking stomach. It must be that HIH-pair. They are not appropriate for my digestion. I must puke them out"!
They squeezed even harder. SQUEEZE!
"Auaaa. Puke! Puke! Auaa. How disgusting they are. I will never eat them again! They were very tasty, but my stomach didn't like them, so out they go. Bye, bye, handholding goodies".

And out they went tumbled over, but still HIH.
"Gosh that was nice to be out", said the poet. "I don't want to be duck-fuck-food again. If I can help it":
"No I didn't like it at all", said Freckle and let go of his hand. "And it wasn't my idea if you remember".
The poet was embarrassed.
"But I needed that liver-wisdom for my poems, so I thought it was smart, to go there".
"Jaja, forget the puking duck-fuck and let us find my father".
"Can we sing a little song first? Can we improvise about my poetry"?
"Okey, you start...


"Oh Freckle, cant you tell, oh Freckle, cant you tell,
Will I write a poem like Jacques Brel?
Oh Freckle cant you tell, oh Freckle cant you tell,
When you know, will you so ring my bell"?

"Oh Poet, I will tell, oh Poet, I will tell,
You can se it written in my mail,
When it's time for you to find your well,
And I want to tell, and I want to tell,
When you write a poem like Jacques Brel,
I will surely ring your bell, ring your bell.

Oh Freckle cant you tell, oh Freckle cant you tell,
And forget my doggfucks and mango-spell,
Let me try to make a poem like Jacques Brel,
And I hope you find it very well.

Oh Poet, I will tell, oh poet I will tell,
And when I got your poem, I will ring your bell,
Ring your bloody bell,
Ring your beeell,
Ring your bell,
Like a Jacques Brel....

"Isn't this song a bit repetitive and not representative for your talent"? said Freckle and took his hand. Again!

Just when they started their walk from Fuck-duck-land the sky was darkening and they realized, that the Sun was disappearing round the corner. The shadows from the night came creeping.
"Huh", said the poet, " Freckle, I am frightened. The shadows are growing and they will take us to the Shadowland".
"There is no such land", comforted Freckle. "You are safe with me".

Butt one big shadow came closer and bent his pitch-black head over them. There was also a sound. A shadowsound. Huuuubuuu...

[AGAG]

"In shadowland I am the king" Said a familiar voice that imprinted fear in both the poet and freckl's heart "Haha! Aber, welcome! I, the king, will be your tour guide because you are the only visitors that we've had since they opened that damned 'lightland' everyone loves and shouts about.. we had several budget cuts since then and we've lost many of the souls that would otherwise be your guides throughout this beautiful land. Let's keep the initial fear that struck your hearts and follow me in this shadow raft. Please don't fall and keep your hands clutched firmly inside the other's. That will make things more easy and less dangerous... Jawohl! Off we go.." Freckle tried to resist but the poet's hands quickly pulled freckle's so before she could realize, they were on their way towards shadow-downtown in a tranquil, dimly lit procession. All they could see were pain ridden silhouettes of men that suggested a mass of long perpetual stares in their direction. Clearly two HiH partners were not a common sight in shadowland and they were regarded like heroes. A bit later the shadow people became a black choir and they began to sing and dancing songs about Lucifer. The first chant was called "Satan's Abbey" and it was very energetic; the second was titled "Come pain or become ash" and Freckle loved it. Butt! The poet was more enthusiastic about the last number: "Holy spirit weep for me" Which included several interesting solos by the shadow conductor. After some interlude, they arrived to the downtown where the Shadowking finally revealed himself.

It was Freckle's long lost friend Mr Stockhausen who had become the shadow king. "Ja ja! it's me." He said, after taking off his shadow costume "I wanted to come here to make some shadowmusic explorations and and! it was so nice and quiet so I said why don't I stay around with these nice folks? They won't miss me on the other world, oder?... Haha! Heart failure! They still believe it, it's hilarious" Shadowhausen showed them his house. It was filled with weird sound machines with thousands and thousands of knobs, many rusty soprano saxophones and a towering mass of german porn magazines in one corner. "Get yourselves confortable. I will get coffee. We can talk and talk. I haven't had a regular conversation in around 4 years."

He got his german pee-free coffee and now they were making a plan to get more visitors to the shadow house. "We have to destroy lighltland" Said freckle "It is our only choice. Mr Stock is here all alone and that is not fair at all. He needs someone to cleane his sax every now and then and someone to have coffee with. Just like every german does." The poet was ready to collaborate and he said:

[ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ]

"I think we have to see it from another side. The bright side":
And he started to sing with his beautiful Salvadorian accent.

"Something in Shadowland is bad,
And that can really make me mad,
And I like to swear and thistle,
When I see this gloomy shadowgristle,
Always grumble and never whistle,
This make life here dark and mistle,
So I would like to see it from the bright side of life,
Always see it on the bright side of life.

If Shadowland seems jolly rotten,
The shadows here must have forgotten,
To laugh and dance, smile and sing,
They must be feeling like in dumps,
And be some silly chumps,
But it may help, if they say plong and pling,
And always see themselves from the bright side of life,
Always see it from the bright side of life.

When you look at it,
Shadows are like shit,
Light is bright and shadows are some joke,
And it only gets worse if they poke,
So keep on laughing shadows grey,
Just remember this is your lucky day,
And always see it from the bright side of life.

And what have you to loose,
You gloomy shadowmouse,
So out in the light and start to choose,
The bright side of this grey shadowhouse...

"Bravo", said Freckle,"That is what we shall do. We leave this sad Shadowland and go over to the Light. This is not a place for us at all".
Mr Stock wrinkled his forehead. "You have something there. I would like to try".

All the black shadows mumbled, in the background, and
shaked their shadowheads.

"Let us see if we are welcome there", said the Poet and took Freckles hand, "Come let us go into the light. Some of the bravest can follow us".
Shadowmumbles again and two small ones came forward. They were very grey and blurred and almost floating. Soon more and more were lining up, after mr Stock, and there was a whole shadow-train of black-grey figures on the way to Lightland. They sang very softly.

"Always see life from the bright side,
We shadows now walk and no longer hide..."

At the Lightborder stood a big light-alf-guard and he was a bit surprised, when he saw the long row of dark wavering figures come closer and closer. Freckle told him.
"Those shadows are tired of their grey lives in partial darkness, where they are like phantoms of their former selfs, sources of gloom and without their earlier power. They want to come back to light and life".

"Ok", said the light-alf." All gloomy and grey shadows are welcome..."

But, but, but...In the same moment they went over the borderline, they dissolved. They disappeared!!! And only a faint mumble from the song could be heard.

"We shadows are in the light here,
And are no longer, what we were,
We are now lights, in the atmosphere,
And don't know if that is severe.
Or, or, or...

Boom Kaboom was heard from the sky. It was...

[AGAG]

Holy velvetdogs, your poems are always so pretty!

it was Mr Hausen who, upon entering the frontier, lost around 55 pounds in a swoosh. He became thin and more light, like a feather, and he started floating in the air. He could fly! "Jaja! Aber, Finally! This is die Berliner Luft luft luft... I am such a pretty duft duft duft..." he sang and sang and faded happily in the distance spinning all around and saying other German things.. It was now time for the poet and the freckle to enter the vast dominion of the light. The poet was frightened. He had never seen so much light before and his hand shook a little inside Freckle's. "What do you think will happen?" he asked "Will I become a stick?" The shadow line came to a halt and they started to mumble in their language. They were on their right! They were impatient and a poet was delaying their light transformation. "Ah, little poet!" Said freckle "You will never know if you don't try! Come and take my hand. No matter how bright we both become, I will not let you go. Mark my words!"

Freckle stepped inside and then she pulled the poet gently. Inmediatly they both became really shiny and the light blinded most of the shadows on the other side. The poet, naturally, lost around 40 pounds himself. The light became almost unbearable and unnaturally colorful. Freckle was a blue flame and the poet a green one and they combined like northern lights. Lightland became purple. The alfguard was shocked in his guarding place "Oh, two stars!" he said "What a long time since we had stars in this place.. I missed them.." The two HiH stars started to fly. Their feet separated from the ground slowly and they were deep inside the lightsky in no time, printed like two bright stars in the middle of the clouds... The poet laughed "Haha! What a great sight! You were right freckle.. I knew I could trust you and and... Freckle! Where are you going now? Where is your hand? I cannot hold it!" She was becoming transparent like a glass and started to dissipate in the air. The poet could still hear her voice "Haha! This is part of the process. You are also getting airy yourself! Don't you worry, we will hold hands again very very soon"

They both became big clouds and it started to rain in lightland. The first rain in over one hundred years! The lightground started to get covered with thousands of little blue/green flowers, one for each drop. Soon every inch of the land was covered with a thick floral layer. Every green flower hugged a blue one.

The lightguard was crying out of joy. "Oh, so pretty..." He said, while gently weeping "we just need a couple of rainbows and...

[ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ]

Gosh! We are raining! We are raining!

there they are. Or is it rainbowshit? Who knows in those strange days, when the whole Shadowpopulation moved here and disappeared into blue nothing. And that old German composerguy was up there too but came down and started to play on his saxophon as a negro! Huh! And the two HIH-kids that became clouds and I could hear them talk, but where did they go"?

There once was a pair of two,
But where did they go, where did they go,
They just disappeared in the blue,
And came down as rain on my shoe,
What on Earth will happen now,
Will they coma up again and glow,
As two little HIH's again,
Or in another new rain?

So sang the light-alf and looked hopefully at all the green-blue flowers.

Boom Kabumb crawl, crawl. From the earth came first a freckled girlhand and then a poethand and upon his word, didn't they found each-other really fast and hold on. Tjipptjillewipp, suddenly the rest of the two was standing before the surprised alf.

"Hi there Alf" said Freckle. "We just rained a bit and now I think we are going to find my father. This Lightland is a bit to light for me".

"For me too", echoed the poet. And they took mr Stock in his Germanhand and pulled him out of Lightland.

"Puh", he said, "It was very light there, but a very good acoustic for sopranosaxophones".

Boom Kabumb a very strong sound...

[Ilsekena]

...of someone's puke. And...

[ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ]

AGAG seems to be in some strike, so I will fill in here. Again!

"Puke, puke, my fucking stomach is turning in and out. Puke, puke, it is all that light here"!

"Who talkes like that", said Freckle, "But Fucking! He is back"!

"Si,si, my dears, and I am in a very good mood since it is now confirmed, that the slow-witted Einstein of yours, was wrong all the time. There is no limited speed in Unuverse, no bent room. Haha! That puffed-up-bluff-German was wrong. I have known that all the time, but who listens to a goatfarmer? But who could beam us ANYWHERE, if we should use those limited lightspeed. Haha! I just say RELATIVITY! Blahablaha! Neutrinos can move SO fast that you can't think so quickly, even if you are an Alien. I can think from here to Excessa, but a nano is there BEFORE me, how fast I try to think. Are you with me"?

"Of course", said the Poet, "I understand that nanos are there before you. Butt, butt, how do they do it"?

"Bah, you incredulous poet! I have just told you. But I need to do some equations to show you and I have no time for that now. Believe it! They are really fast"!

"And what are you up to, here in Lightland",asked Freckle.

"Believe it or not. I am here to save you two and that German old fogey. It is a bigbig gulf between Lightland and the real world and you can't do that jump without me. I have followed you in my GPS and saw your problem. So let us take that giant leap for mankind".

And leap they did. Boom Kabumb. Like neutrinos they flew in one nanosecond to Öhubbles lab at Nokia.

"Gosh",he said, "Where have you all been? Haven't seen any of you for ages. I have made great new pills and you can choose what you want".

"Pills"? said Mr Stock. "I could use some sort of double-Viagra".

"OK", said Öhubble." And you Pekka"?

"I would more like some anti-rust for my tinmicro", said Fucking and laughed theatrically.

"No thank you", said Freckle and the Poet in chorus, while they blushed.

Mr Stock swallowed greedily his big double-Viagra in one gulp.

But, but, what, what. Boom Kaboom.......

[eternity_strato]

Tulkka, Jordan&Gandhi and Mr. Soup appeared to take all over the place and domine the wastelands!

[AGAG]

Haha! I'm sorry to be on these strikes. The doctor gave me some pills against computer addiction and they seem to be semi-effective, sometimes. Nothing to control the freckles though! They are everywhere As they should be!

The legion appeared as a viagra by-product. Yes! They were shadows from shadowland, a great coincidence. They had shadows that were very black. They stood on the door like a group of advertising catholics and inmediatly they all started singing in a chorus. "Like someone on coke" was the song and they all were Hand in hand. The poet was a shocked when finding a group of shadows in this decadent form of plagiarism and got really agitated. "But butt!" He shouted, interrupting the beautiful song "Please, please. Me and Freckle are the only ones who have a HiH license. These sort of things need a qualification. Specifically, a shadow-light-cloud-rain-flower transformation process you Ghandis clearly haven't gone through. If you allow me to suggest, you can be foot on foot instead. That rarely needs any license and it feels just as good!" The choir found the poet's speech to be coherent and they agreed. They stepped on each other's foot to finish the drug song, FoF, and they were cheered heartily by Pekka, who loved Jingles.

"It is that time of the year! Again!" He said, while cleaning his teary eyes with a tissue "When I can polish my tinmicro with Christmas trees on the house of my friends. Oh, I remember my childhood.. How many fun times we had, my micro and the trees? Oh, unforgettable..." Stock's dubbel Viagra was working wonders and that showed in the eerie glow his eyes responded with when Pekka mentioned trees. "Oh, christmas pine trees" he said, grinning "How I missed those on that fucking shadow land! I barely know you Mr. Fucking but what do you say if we go hunting tonight. I'm just a Viagra-ridden german man who wants to fuck trees to remember old days.. I won't do any harm, I promise." Pekka's eyes glowed viciously. "Haha! What a kind offer. Coincidentally, they are actually coating the old park's oak with a very heavy coat made of a bunch of artificial light bulbs. I say we go and give the season a warm welcome with our micros! Or! Could it be?.. is it a macro you Germans tend to have? I couldn't know. Haha!" Mr Stock laughed and blushed a little. "Oh, haha! Well, ja, we germans tend to be more on the macro side.. Don't worry about me at all! Let's think about those hard wooden wonders that are waiting for us. Let's go!" And they left for what promised to be a rough winter night in the woods, giggling like clueless highschool children.

"They are just right for each other." Sighed Hubble, with a big smile. Butt! In the distance a shinning man came running, from a hill, right into hubble's ranch. It was a familiar man who was very frightened and shaky. "We know this man" Said the poet, observing hubble preparing anti-light syringes against the stranger that dared to trespass into his house. "He is a friend. He is the gate-keeper at Lightland. Look, he seems to be in distress!" Indeed, the man had blue and green wounds all over his arms. Light ink in his skin, as sweat. "Oh, freckle. Oh, poet." He said, panting and finally leaning against a wall. "Finally I have found you two!.. Over there, in lightland, you unleashed something other than iridescent beauty throughout the virgin soil. Oh no! If you remember those little innocent flowers... they have become monstrous poetical shapes that hug everything that gets remotely close. They are gargantuan! 5 meter long petals, made of a thick suffocating velvet-like fabric. They are growers and they can hit the 20 meters mark in tallness.. And and! They have covered every inch of soil and they dance all day long, with their long petals. Poor light! Oh.. The more you hide, the more they squeeze."

The poet and Freckled blushed even more. "Oh, our rain did this poet! Our variegated rain.." Said freckle. "WE will have to fix this. I will get my gardening kit. Wait here." But suddenly a boomkaboom. A big flower petal was knocking Hubble's door.

They...

[ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ]

Huh! I have those pills too! And I have just swallowed four. We will see if it helps!

In swedish they are called "Antidots"...


Edit: They are supposed to take away the freckles too! Can you believe it?

[AGAG]

Huh! I have those pills too! And I have just swallowed four. We will see if it helps!

In swedish they are called "Antidots"...


Edit: They are supposed to take away the freckles too! Can you believe it?

Freckles too?

Can't you go back to Hubble? He makes pills too! They cannot be so anti-freckle as those damn swedishs antidots. I don't see why dots are something to struggle with, they are pretty in reality!


Edit: Flush-lush! There goes a fat pillbottle Can you believe it?

[ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ]

Yes I believe you! As always! My pills were like yours, only half-effective, but I keep them since the freckles are much less. I will call myself half-Freckle from now on...


So they, half-Freckle (hF) and the Poet (tP) were stunned.
"I can't understand how our little rain could make those huge flowers that almost reach the sky",said tP.

"It is the combination of you two and your nice HIH that had that effect", said the Lightland-gate-keeper (Lgk). You two pure-hearted yungsters are very unique and Lightland-flowers (Lf) have been waiting for your rain in hundreds of years. As long as Lf stayed in Lightland it was manageable but now they are using some flower-power and are jumping over to real life. Lf are marching and it is 747 years since the last time. The world will be overflowered with blue-green Lf's".

"Vojne, vojne", said hF,"What to do"?

"We must ask Öhubble (Öh)", said tP.

And they did, but for the first time Öh had neither pills nor ideas how to handle the situation. And he was worried, " The world will be bloomimg and flourishing wirh all those blossoms and I am sure they will choke all other vegetation. And, and they must be very poisonous. The mankind will die of hunger, in a beautiful flower-death and all the funerals will be flower-full. Good advices are commanding a high price now".

Lgk protested, "No sire, you are wrong about the poison. The blue flowers taste mumu-steaks and the green ones like honey and they love to be eaten. It is their goal in life"!

Now the big Lf knocked again on Öh's door and it sang with the wind.

"Eat me, eat me, fucking eat me,
And never try to beat me,
I am a mumu-steak-flower-bloom,
And never ever say to me Kaboom,
Cook me, fry me and in your stomach make room,
For me in my blue petalcostume".

But ÖH was sceptical and refused to open the door. "I can feel that something is wrong here and, and...

[eternity_strato]

Sugarboobs comes in. She's wearing a banana bikini. With an apple for head. She bursts into...

[AGAG]

Öh got out his gardening kit that included a flower-petal killer. The most effective planticide in the whole region. "It is better not to take chances with these fucking man-eating petals.." Said Öh "even though! they have beautiful traits that remind me of that P and that hF that happens to be my daughter.. Oh, the things one old man must do to remain free. Killing flowers! Bah... and then killing petals." and with a clearly sad face, he proceeded to open the door to let the big green/blue petal enter the house with contumeliousness. He sprayed his face with Acibenzolar-S-methyl and some Hexachlorobenzene that he had mixed the day before as a pill-substitute for hallucinogens. The petal started to dissolve in the ground, after withering for some time and singing a soft ballad in the verge of death.

"Öh" Said Öh,
what a sad blue world
What a blue sad door..

Doors I have opened with my happy sepals
Just to become a sad excuse for a petal
The death is due and I will still sing
Ha! How many folks have I taken with me?

I am the killerflower, the height of a tower
I have killed many people in their showers

Just when they start singing
They make my senses go fribbling
And I have to choke them to death
Because their voices are shit.

Oh, the laughter
when they see a mellow flower in their bather

They want to be friends
And I just want them dead.
Then their heads roll on the floor
Like a beautiful balloon in a bowl...

Oh, the fun..!
but now I leave this world
Through this door..
A sad blue door on a hall...

Hubble hall.
What a fall.

TP began crying and held hF's hands. "Oh, this is so sad" he said "Why must flowers die? What a harsh life for a flower.. it was so happy, dancing with its petals" Then hF patted his head because he was sad. But there was nothing one could do! the flower was now just spatted tincture on the floor. Someone had pushed the ink-bottle unintentionally and now no one would write again with that flower's colors. And there were many many others coming around the corner. They were eating people in the streets. Hubble hurried and gave tPhF a pair of pesticidethrowers to defend themselves. They got a backpack full of chemicals in their backs, tP still in tears, and they went outside to fight flowers.

Woosh, the battle was fierce and 10,000 flowers turned into liquid after facing the adamant Öchemicals. The flower liquid became uncontainable and after some time, a 15 meters high flower avalanche thrusted forward carrying away the poet and all the Hubble visits. They almost drowned but they managed to get involuntarily stranded on a high-heel. The hF then said, after coughing some liters of flowerstains "What is it with rivers and floral stuff these days? they seem to be everywhere. Is it spring. Must I believe in it?" The poet laughed "Haha! Of course you should! Oh, spring! It is the most beautiful thing in this world to believe in."

Jesus heard the poet's words in the distance and became really sad. He approached them and said:..

[ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ]

"Blessed are you two HIH's. You will possess the Lightland, with your ability to bring shadows to the light. Blessed are even the ones with wooden legs. They can fasten their stockings with drawing pins. Now you must go back to Lightland and save the world".

"But Jesuusss, what are you talking about"? said hF, "Stockings? Wooden legs? And we will not go back! It is too much light there".

"You must, you must! If the world should be spared from the flower-hell. But God knows how. That nano-technique is news to me, so we must call for Fucking. Hallo Fucking can you help the HIH's here"?

Swisch, swisch! Pekka Fucking was there and he looked bewildered."Huh, Jessuuusss, what is up? I was taking a nap with my goats when you called".

"You must nano-second those two HIH's to Lightland, so they can stop the flowers".

"Huh, Jesuuss! Must I? really"?

"Yes! Blessed are the inspirited, for theirs are the Kingdom of Light. Nano-go now"!

And tjipptjillevipp the HIH's and Fucking stood at the gate of Lightland. All plants were 15 m high and they waved intensely, when they saw HIH. The petals flew in the wind and a big petalcloud was created.

"What are we supposed to do"? said hF.

"You must hold all your hands and show your lovely happiness", murmured the flowers.

"Oh, I wonder, if you and I nowadays have any connexion with sanity and reality", said hF and took tP's hands.

"The thought has struck me me too", said tP. "But we must try to look very happy now".

They were a beautiful sight and heavy sighs went through the flowers. Flowertears fell om the soil and their roots loosened so they could fly up and away. It was like a tornado and they all went out in the lightsky. To Shadowland where they soon were darkblue flower-shadows.

From all over the world they came and the firmament was black with darkening shadow-flowers.

In Finland Jesus took a deep breath. "Blessed are the pure-hearted HIH's, they have saved the world from flower-power".

But in the now flowerempty Lightland Fucking sighed for another reason. He was wondering if he really had power enough for another nano-transport home. He...

[AGAG]

He said ... He said! What did he say?? Something, of course. This some-thing must have consisted of words, in a given language, maybe finnish because Fucking is a finnish goat-farmer.. maybe they speak finno-russian in excessa or maybe! maybe they don't speak at all because of the snow-mentality.. Maybe he squealed like a goat, accustomed to their form of communication, to say something about his exhaustion. Maybe maybe! so many things he could have done! but he chose one of them above them all. Not necessarily rooted in a deep work of introspection or self-knowledge but rather an arbitrary yet circumstancial reaction to his given state of mind. One does not think well when exhausted and he was really sleepy after nanoing the HIH couple, he even yawned from time to time.. maybe he said something he wouldn't have said if he had been on another sort of mood, say, a morning mood! when one drinks his morning coffee and thinks of life as a fractal joke consisting of many little pieces that repeat themselves apparently in the same way, the same when we are 40 years old and look back to see that many of the things we said were the product of a momentaneous tiredness that would have been solved if we had coffee available 24 hours a day. Maybe in a waterbottle. But! Poor pekka, he didn't have any coffee at all. Or energy drinks. Or caffeine pills. So he was not in his best attitude to chose a right way of action in the most intelligent way. But he has to say something! he has been waiting for too long and now the HIHs are becoming impatient of looking at Pekka inbetween all this light. Lightland was really bright and everyone's eyes were watery. Pekka noticed this and he hurried to make an unorthodox action.. lord, oh lord, Pekka chose the most unchristian way to proceed. He began to dance with his goats and make a ritual that was very ancient, instead of using the nanoway, that was proper for a world raped with technological advancements.

The goats started to run in circles, using pekka as a center. Around twenty of them started to accelerate and they began to melt in a continuous stream of wool that circled pekka. Maybe they wanted to give him a coat. Oh, generous goats! But pekka wasn't feeling cold. He had forgotten about his friends and now he was in a tyrosine whirlwind. Goat tyrosine. And...

[AGAG]

Sorry! A dog called.. It turned out to be really cute today! Brown, shining hair.

And! Pekka is in our spiral. And, Jesus is really upset. He shouts and shouts phrases of his bible and he has called 7 angels to stop the Goater's Ritual. By any means necessary! He doesn't like infidels. This heavenly death squad included the following angel-soldiers:

a) One seraphim, blue, with wings made of rubik cubes. (six rubik cubes) A really intelligent angel who was meant to plan attacks and think of evasive tactics.
b) Two Cherubims, red, each with 4 shields and 4 swords. Respectively made of: Earth, glass, piss and poo. 4 of the most important elements in the universe.
c) Two thrones, old and wrinkly. Each with a book and a full thick roll of toilet paper. Meant to clean the blood.
d) Three Archangels, light blue, each with a 7 stringed electric guitar. Meant to give strength to the battlers through heavenly rock music.
e) One angel, white, meant to confort Jesus in his sadness.

The battle began against the Christians and the Goats. The goats had a clear advantage in number. Since there were at least one hundred goats around pekka. The angels still had faith by their side. Jesus cried in the background.

Swords against wools. The battle lasted for about 5 days. But it ended when the HIH's finally intervened and said:

[ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ]

The Antidots don't work. The freckles are back,so I am Freckle. Again!

The Poet said,
"Pekka, Pekka, it is time to stop this videogame now and go home. Those painted Angels don't look credible at all, and the goats seem to be more sheepish than sheep. We have a much better game at home, "Little big planet", so give me the joystick now"!

"No, no, I want to play my "Angel against goats". I have just killed the three blue Archangels and the Cherubims, that were so nasty to my goats. The great thing with this game is, that I can wake up the dead goats, so they can fight again. Now all my goats are back and we are attacking the Angels, that are still alive. Pang, there went the "intelligent" Seraphim. Kaboom! There the thrones. But, I never understood why they were in this game. They belong to "Empires fall" and must have jumped over, when I looked another way"!

"So, so, Pekka, give me the stick! There, there, now I have killed all the Angels and the Thrones from "Empires fall". Your goats have won and we can go home".

They could hear Jesus from the sky. "Come to me the HIS and Fucking, that are weary from burdening videogames. I will give you rest. But you must be sober and vigiliant, because your adversary the goatdevil, walketh about ass a lion, seeking whom he may devour, in this hellish game. Beware of the Angels. Satan himself masquerades, as an Angel of Light. Your enemy prowls around you, there in Lightland. So come, come, and take your game and go"!

He put out his forefinger and tjipptjillevipp, in a nanosecond they were in Öhubbles lab at Nokia. Again! A deja voe! Öhubble looked surprised. "You? Again? Is this a new habit"?

Even Jesus up there was surprised."Jesssuuuss Chriiiist! I have a nano-finger...

And some floors higher up sat a bearded old man and looked at his hands.
"Nano-finger? Nano-finger? What is the world coming to...I am getting old...