"Tell me... how did you meet Captain?"Snips came by my bar with a most pertinent of questions.
"Would u perfer the TLDR version or the fancy-pants, long, gold member version?" I leaned towards him.
"Lets go with the long version." Snippy stated.
I dug deep into my mind-room for a correct golden cookie. There it is, on a most tallest of pedestals. The most sacred of memories. I cracked the cookie open and startrerered to narrate its contents out loud.
. . .
Twas a most innapropriate morning. Everything felt wrong, lopsided, crooked. I angrily awoke like a beetle inside a coffin-container-box, rattling.
I was a most angry caterpillar.
I dearly wished to be a butterfly, but the nano-tape was a harsh mistress and would not let me go.
Kittyhawk poked out of me pocket. He was my bird-phone.
Bad things happened to us. Unsightly things. We was made into a caterpillar by the bad Unconnectables. We was shoved into coffin-box by my brothers and sisters. They knew not what they were doing, for I was hot on the trail of the Unconnectable gang that held Snippey hostage, threw clocks at me, threatened me with pomegrenate and made me into a caterpillar.
I could pay attention and stay focused on the Unconnectable gang because the explosive pineapple took away my face. What remained of my face was severely dis-jointed with space-time. Even bad things are sometimes good, thusly.
Kittyhawk agreed that only I could save Eureka from whatever the gang was planning to do with you, mr Snippey.
"Wait a second... hang on... you were that crazy terminator that was chasing us?" Snips interrupted my narrative.
"Quite Possibly. Unless that was some other you. Sometimes things overlap or duplicate without obvious reasons." I flapped my shoulders, staring at Snippey angrily for unlicensed story interruption.
"I see" Snips frowned.
I continued my tale of interest.
"LETS ME OUTS! I MUST BECOME THE MOST FABULOUS BUTTERFLY!" I demanded by banging my head on the coffin-box. Nobody lets me outs. Most unfortunate! Such discomfort.
"Please stop banging the containment unit, Dex." The container spoke to me in a nasal voice of authority.
"LETS ME OUTS! I CAN HAS A MOST IMPORTANT OF MISSIONS! IF I DONT STOPS THE UNCONNECTABLES THEY WILL USE SUBJECT CHARLES SNIPPEY FOR THEIR POTENTIALLY SINISTER DEEDS!" I banged my head against the metal box twice as hard.
"You are broken and confused. Remain calm and everything will be fine." container stapled at me.
"BIRD-FRIEND! HELP ME ESCAPE THIS CONTAINER BOX AND I SHALL GRANT YOU A SALARY RAISE!" I shouted at Kittyhawk in my pocket.
"Shipping over-ride command: 11-00-11-00-01-01-00-11" Kittyhawk dictated after pondering for a bit about my offer.
"Don't be ridiculous. You can't just change our destination." The container stipulated.
A ripple went through the network. It felt funny, tickling my face-cave.
Something clicked. Pressure changed. Gravity let go. We were in free-fall. Free falls are fun rollercoasters!
The box didn't land properly. It crashed into a building, poking through floor after floor, eventually unlocking like a flower that opens its petals to the sun. It harshly spilled all of its contents, including us.
"Come back at once. You are not licensed to disembark here!" The box demanded. We did not come back. I quickly caterpillared away from the landing site, after blowing a raspberry at the mean container-box.
I looped in circles, pondering what to does next, until I bopped into a giant holographic sixpence coin-advert.
The sixpence advert proclaimed "HAVING TROUBLES? GOT YOURSELF TRAPPED IN NANO-GRAPHITE TAPE? BUY A G-SWISS-KNIFE! IT WILL SOLVE ALL YOUR PROBLEMS! WITH ITS NANO-CUTTING BLADE AND OTHER 9999 APPENDAGE OPTIONS THE G-SWISS-KNIFE IS GUARANTEED TO AID YOU IN ANY TROUBLESOME SITUATION! BUY IT NOW AT YOUR LOCAL G-SUPERCENTER!"
I profoundly stared at the spinning advert. It offered me freedom and liberty and so I decided to follow its advice. The G-SUPERCENTER was thankfully open 24 hours a day.
The "KNIVES-AND-MORE" department was tough to reach, considering that my legs were dislocated and taped up, but I managed to make it there and broke/tipped only 342 shelves along the way.
The swiss knife refused to come out of its box, stating that I had no money on my account to buy it anyway. I begged the knife to help me become a butterfly, but the knife flat out refused to aid me.
"WHO COULD TELL THE KNIFE TO OBEY?" I pondered, considering the G-SUPERCENTER map. But of course! There was an IKEA nearby. The Swedish-Overmind could surely override the Swiss Knife's directives. (As Swedish-Overmind had won all rights to Switzerland in the copyright wars of last year). I caterpillared my way towards IKEA.
"HELP ME ME, IKEA! YOU ARE MY ONLY HOPE! TELL THE SWISS KNIFE TO FREE ME!" I pleaded to the IKEA Overmind control terminal. But, IKEA wouldn't come to my aid. I couldn't even afford their delicious 1 credit meatballs and pasta to cheer myself up.
Also it was impossibly hard to crawl out of IKEA because the Overmind designed it as an inescapable labyrinth, the only way out of which was to purchase furniture that you had to assemble yourself. Having no funds for designery-futnitures, I was forced to smash through a wall to escape.
I caterpillared further and came across the "TOBACCO-AND-MORE" department.
It had many highly addictive products and decorative lighters to utilize such.
I output my case to the fanciest lighter of them all:
"HELP ME, GOLDEN LIGHTER! SET IKEA ON FIRE, SO THAT IKEA COMMANDS THE SWISS KNIFE TO FREE ME, OR I SHAN'T BECOME A BUTTERFLY!"
The gold lighter refused my request.
I caterpillared away and discovered the janitor's closet. Inside was a bucket full of water. I appealed to it:
"BUCKET! BUCKET! DROWN THE GOLD LIGHTER, LIGHTER WON'T SET IKEA ON FIRE, IKEA WON'T COMMAND KNIFE, KNIFE WON'T FREE ME AND I SHAN'T BECOME A BUTTERFLY!"
The bucket refused my polite request and so I crawled further, until I reached the Bath-and-more department. I appealed to the fattest sponge of them all:
"SPONGE! SPONGE! CLOG THE BUCKET! BUCKET WON'T DROWN LIGHTER, LIGHTER WON'T SET IKEA ON FIRE, IKEA WON'T COMMAND KNIFE, KNIFE WON'T FREE ME AND I SHAN'T BECOME A BUTTERFLY!"
The fat sponge refused my request. I crawled further yet and found a smelly hobo named Sven in the "ART-SUPPLIES-AND-MORE" department. Sven told me that he was falling in love with his bench. I congratulated him on finding his licensed-soul-mate and asked for aid:
"SVEN! SVEN! YOU MUST HELP ME! USE THE SPONGE ON YOUR SMELLY ARMPITS! SPONGE WON'T CLOG BUCKET, BUCKET WON'T DROWN..."
Sven looked at me with tired eyes, not listening. "The end is coming! I must warn thems alls!" he croaked. "I have no interest in your quest of folly, caterpillar-man!" He then limped off into the depths of the art department.
I got angry. Sven needed to aid me! I looked at the "WEAPONS-AND-MORE" department for a good stick to beat Sven with, but settled on a 40'000 volt Taser, instead.
"TASER! TASER! ZAP SVEN! SVEN WON'T RUIN SPONGE. SPONGE WON'T CLOG BUCKET, BUCKET WON'T DROWN LIGHTER, LIGHTER WON'T BURN IKEA, IKEA WON'T COMMAND KNIFE, KNIFE WON'T MAKE ME INTO A BUTTERFLY!"
Taser ignored my polite request, citing police authority manuals. I caterpillared towards the electronics department and found a wall of batteries (the one thing that controlled Tasers).
"BATTERIES! I SEEK YOUR AID! THREATEN NOT TO POWER THE TASER! TASER WON'T ZAP SVEN, SVEN WON'T RUIN SPONGE, SPONGE WON'T CLOG BUCKET, BUCKET...."
The batteries did not come to my aid. I catepillared towards the "SKYLIGHTS-AND-MORE" department. One of the skylights had a direct line towards the sun.
I appealed to the sun.
"SUN! YOU ARE A POTENTIAL SOURCE OF ELECTRICITY! AID ME! THREATEN TO SUE BATTERIES IN COURT! ONCE YOU WIN, DEMAND BATTERIES TO THREATEN NOT TO POWER THE TAZER...!"
"What?! You talked to the sun?" Snippy rudely interrupted. "You do know, the sun isn't alive... right?"
"Shush! Silly Snipster! Everything... everywhere is alive, because Annie made thems so!" I waved my arms for greater emphasis.
Snippy did not look convinced.
I continued my tale of interest:
The sun ignored my demand. I adjusted the sky-light to a lower setting. It settled on clouds.
"CLOUDS! BLOCK OUT THE SUN!" I demanded. "THE SUN NEEDS TO SUE BATTERIES!"
The clouds did not respond. I frowned and caterpillared away.
I stopped in the "WIND-FARMS-AND-MORE" department, looking for a wind-operating-device to aid me. My left eye settled on the tallest of wind-turbines for sale.
"WIND TURBINE! WIND TURBINE!" I pleaded. "BLOW AWAY THE CLOUDS! THEY REFUSE TO BLOCK OUT THE SUN!"
The wind turbine did not aid me. It most verily inconsiderate!
I caterpillared my way into the local Neighborhood Committee office.
"NEIGHBORHOOD COMMITTEE! VOTE AGAINST INSTALLATION OF WIND TURBINES!" I moved a motion forward. "THE WIND TURBINE WON'T BLOW AWAY CLOUDS!"
The Committee didn't vote for my proposal, considering me a non-member of the community. I tried to buy a 1x1 inch of community space, but was refused due to lack of credits.
I caterpillared away and met with a group of teenage taggers.
"TAGGERS! TAGGERS! DRAW GRAFFITI ALL OVER THIS NEIGHBORHOOD! THE NEIGHBORHOOD COMMITTEE NEEDS TO VOTE FOR MY PROPOSAL!..." I demanded. The teens did not obey me and called me many mean names which I shan't recite here.
I caterpillared away and met a biker gang.
"BIKERS! BIKERS! BEAT UP THE TEENAGERS!" I pleaded. "THE TEENS WON'T GRAFFITI THE NEIGHBOURHOOD!"
The bikers were not impressed with me and refused to beat up the teens. Even my burned leather jacket did not convince them.
I caterpillared further and met a blogger who was shopping for latest Neural Interface hardware.
"BLOGGER! BLOGGER! WRITE A BLOG CRITICIZING THE LOCAL BIKER GANG! MAKE THEM LOSE THEIR COOL!" I demanded. The Blogger took a 3deo of me and wrote a blog titled "MAD DEX, COSTUMED AS GIANT CATERPILLAR ENTICES VIOLENCE IN LOCAL G-SUPERCENTER". The blog contained nothing that would make the biker gang uncool. It only made me seem weird and eventually started a trend of "dressing up as bugs to demand localized change". This sadenned me greatly, for such was not my goal.
I caterpillared towads "BRIDGES-AND-MORE" department and found an internet troll under one of the bridges.
"INTERNET TROLL! AID ME! GREATLY ANNOY THE BLOGGER! HE MUST WRITE A BLOG ABOUT HOW UNCOOL BIKER GANGS ARE, SO THAT THE BIKERS BEAT UP TEENS, SO THAT TEENS...!"
The Internet troll didn't listen, instead he donned a smiling mustache mask and called me many rudely inappropriate titles and slid into shadows beneath the bridge, hissing.
I catepillared away, pondering what trolls fear. A book named "Three Billy Goats Gruff" by Peter Christen Asbjørnsen came up in my right eye. I read it out loud. It was most interesting and told me that trolls are mortal enemies of the goats.
I caterpillared towards the "PETTING-ZOO-AND-MORE" department and found 3 goats therein.
"GOATS! GOATS! AID ME! RAM THE TROLL! HE NEEDS TO IRRITATE THE BLOGGER!" I demanded. The goats said "BAAAaaaaa" which could have meant anything really, but I decided that they were against the idea.
I caterpillared towards the "FAST-FOOD-AND-MORE" department. A hotdog stand was therein.
"HOT DOG SALESMAN! HOT DOG SALESMAN! CONSIDER THIS: MEAT IS EXPENSIVE. GOATS ARE AVAILABLE FOR FREE AT THE PETTING ZOO." I subtly suggested.
The hot dog salesman was heavily bamboozled by my plot and needed more convincing. I caterpillared away. The dine-in area had many Users within. One of them was a food critic.
"FOOD CRITIC! FOOD CRITIC! GIVE THE HOT DOG STAND 0/5 STARS! HE IS NOT FOLLOWING MY MONEY SAVING TIP!" I slammed my head against the nearby table.
The food critic looked terrified, but he was not convinced enough.
I caterpillared down, down, down and found a nest of rats in the underground pipes.
"RATS! RATS! MESS WITH THE FOOD CRITIC'S MIND BY COOKING A MOST DELICIOUS MEAL!" I demanded. "HE SIMPLY NEEDS TO GIVE THE HOT DOG STAND A BAD REVIEW!"
The rats squeeeeeaked in all directions. They lacked confidence, I reasoned.
I caterpillared up, up and to the left to the "HOME SERVICES-AND-MORE" department, banging my way into an exterminator's van.
"EXTERMINATOR! THE RATS IN THIS MALL NEED TO LEARN THEIR PLACE!" I shouted.
"YOU MUST EXTERMINATE THEM! THEY WON'T COOK A MOST DELICIOUS MEAL FOR THE FOOD CRITIC!"
The Exterminator-Dex looked at me in bewilderment from his van. He did not understand my fine reasoning.
I caterpillared down, down, down, down and discovered a nest of giant cockroaches in the depths of the sub-sub-sub-sub basement.
"GIANT ROACHES! GIANT ROACHES!" I appealed. "ATTACK THE EXTERMINATOR'S VAN! HE NEEDS TO GET EXTERMINATIN' ON THE RATS IN THIS MALL!"
The roaches tried to eat me. They disagreed with my winding plans. I caterpillared away, smacking roaches off me with extreme flailing and floopling.
In my escape from the roaches, I came across the "FOOTWEAR-AND-MORE" department.
"SHOES! SHOES!" I shouted. "STEP ON THE ROACHES! THEY MUST ATTACK THE EXTERMINATOR'S VAN!"
The shoes would not aid me. I caterpillared towards the "snacks-and-more" department. It contained much gum.
"GUM! GUM! STICK TO THE BOTTOM OF THE SHOES! SHOES WON'T STEP ON ROACHES, ROACHES WON'T ATTACK THE EXTERMINATOR, EXTERMINATOR WON'T EXTERMINATE RATS, RATS WON'T COOK FOR FOOD CRITIC, FOOD CRITIC WON'T..."
"Is this story actually going somewhere?" Snippy inquired. "Because it sure feels like it won't ever end."
"If you keep interrupting me, you shall learn nothing of value. I have yet to tell you about Dentures, Dentist, and G-Directorate sweetener!" I wiggled my head at Snippey.
"Can you just skip the quest for the knife and get to the point where you meet Captain?" Snippy asked.
"Fine!" I beeped and winded the cookie forward.
The G-SUPERCENTER burned. Pillars of smoke rose into the sky. Dex fire-brigade units were struggling to contain the inferno.
Crowds of Users dressed up as various insects sung songs of "Escalator to heaven", holding hands.
I held the Swiss-knife in my teeth, slicing through the graphite tape.
"CONGRATULATIONS ON TAKING A STEP TO BRING DOWN ZEE SYSTEM, FRIEND." A voice from behind me spoke.
"HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO JOIN ME ON A GRAND ADVENTURE AT THE END OF THE WORLD?"
Hugs and love to all our DELICIOUS PATRONS
Art Director: Vitaly S Alexius
Street cred goes to Bianca G
For help with journal development.
This journal references an ancient parable of:
24th August 2014
Tagged in Captain Snippy Pilot Biomatrix Engie