usVerse: The Unfinished Sentence-Verse #1-9

Arthur Spitzer arspitzer at
Mon Dec 4 19:00:29 PST 2006

The Unfinished Sentence-Verse #1-9

The Unfinished Sentence-Verse #1

By Arthur Spitzer

The man woke up.  Strange, he thought to himself.  Where am I?  Who am I?

He was on a raft.  A raft in the middle of the Ocean.  And there were 
people ?with him.  People and creatures.  One of the creatures was this 
gila monster ?wearing a Viking Cap.  Another looked like a robot with a 
cowboy hat.  There ?was a cute red-headed nun sitting next to the robot. 
  And sitting next to ?her was some very wrinkled old lady wearing a red 
bikini smoking a cigar.

"Who are you people?  Why am I here?  I can't remember anything.  Not 
even ?my name!"

"Well, look who's awake."  The old lady took the cigar out of her mouth 
?briefly.  "As to where we are, well, none of us know either.  We all 
have ?amnesia too."

"I don't understand.  How can we all have amnesia?" the man said as he 
?looked closer at his surroundings.
But before anyone could answer that question, the raft started to...

========= ?To be continued by anyone who feels like it... ?=========

Arthur "Unfini..." Spitzer

The Unfinished Sentence-Verse #2
By Adrian McClure

But before anyone could answer that question, the raft started to curse 
?incoherently in Spanish.  "Why is it doing that?" said the anonymous 

"I don't know," said the creepy old lady.  "It's been doing that all 
?the time since I woke up."

"Puta lagarto!" said the raft.  "Mis pantalones estan comidos por emus 
?de mierda!"

"You know," said the protagonist, "this whole situation seems very 
?profound somehow.  This must be some kind of profound mystery with deep 
?metaphysical overtones that must gradually be pieced together.  Or 
?maybe this is all an elaborate allegory. I represent the average 
?everyman, searching for his own identity, surrounded by a hostile 
?society.  The old woman represents Americans' desire for youth and 
?inability to accept their own mortality.  The nun represents organized 
?religion.  The robot with a cowboy hat represents the working class. 
?The gila monster with a viking helmet represents, er, science fiction 
?fandom.  And the raft represents illegal immigrants."

"You have to be an academic," said the nun, who had a light Irish ?accent.

"Why is that?"

"Because that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"See!  Organized religion is always hostile to intellectual activity!"

Suddenly, Jeph Loeb was brought in as a writer in this series to 
?increase its sales.  A giant robot which looks exactly like the 
?Composite Ultimate Ninja flew in and blasted the protagonist's head ?off.
  "Hey!" said the severed head of the protagonist.  "That hurts!"

The robot's chest opened to reveal...

Adrian "and yes, I'm aware there is no Composite Ultimate Ninja" McClure

The Unfinished Sentence-Verse # 3
By Tom Russell

The robot's chest opened to reveal a hand, upon which sat an old 
?Courier and Ives plate (a young couple mushing their horse-drawn 
?carriage through an idyllic winter wonderland) that held the crimpled 
?remains of a faded blue pastel muffin wrapper, sans muffin: all that 
?remained of it were a few neglected crumbs, tasty blueberry orphans 
?(and that's if the muffin was a blueberry one, or, for that matter, if 
?it was a muffin at all: it very well could have been a cupcake and not 
?a muffin, and if it was a cupcake, did that mean that the existence of 
?its piecemeal survivors was any sweeter, that their fate was any less 
?dire-- and what kind of frosting once adorned its light, fluffy top; 
?oh, never mind, it was a muffin after all) torn from their family by a 
?masticating holocaust, only to be devoured in one fell slurp by cruel 
?fate in a viking helmet (and if that viking-hatted Gila monster could 
?speak the language of man, and if he was a conossuier of fine foods 
?able to tell the difference between a muffin and its sweet sinful 
?barely-legal and more attractive younger sister the cupcake, then that 
?Gila monster could settle, once and for all, whether or not it was a 
?muffin or a cupcake that he did devour the last few measly crumbs of), 
?much to the surprise and astonishment of the robot, who did weep 
?copious tears; water and electricity do not mix, and so that robotic 
?behemoth of everything Loebian (for, as the discerning reader should 
?discern with no discernable difficultly, Jeph "I can't write Batman 
?correctly but I sure can resurrect Jason Fucking Todd with the best of 
?them" Loeb has been jettisoned, only to be readily replaced by the 
?once-thought dead Marcel "I can write thirty pages about how I fall to 
?sleep" Proust and his magical motherfucking tea cup and piece of 
?madeleine-- and whatever happened to i before e except after c; Maddie, 
?as usual, provides a welcome exception) found his flight capabilities 
?quite diminished and sank to the ocean, destined to rust forever as it 
?pondered the fate of the crumbs it had played Papa Varian to for a few 
?brief lovely moments: the end of a life is, as always, bittersweet. 
?The gila monster licks his

The Unfinished Sentence-Verse #4
By Adrian McClure

The gila monster licks his (that is, the long-unmentioned 
?protagonist's) bones as his head, lamenting deeply over the loss of its 
?beloved body, weeps bitterly, but just as he the gila monster is about 
?to launch into an elaborate reminiscience of how the exquisite taste of 
?the protagonist's corpse (another subtle reference to high culture!) 
?reminds him of his childhood in the lost city of atomic vikings, 
?hopefully with less errors than the last time (for in fact Jeph Loeb is 
?not the same person as Judd Winick, who brought Jason Todd back from 
?the dead and is in fact a worse writer, as frightening as it may be) 
?when Proust is suddenly shot in the back!  "I've had enough of your 
?girly writing style," says the mysterious newcomer.  Proust turns 
?around and finds to his horror that it's...

"The cybernetic disembodied head of Ernest Hemingway attached to the 
?body of a gorilla!  But it cannot be!  After you attempted to help 
?Pointless Awards Man IV take over the multiverse in the LNH cascade 
?'Just Imagine Saxon Brenton Presents the RACCies... Again!' you were 
?imprisoned in the center of the universe by the Anonymous Anglo-Saxon 
?Alliterative Poet Corps!"  Remembering this cascade then leads Proust 
?to reminisce bittersweetly about the halcyon days of a few months ago 
?as Cyborg Gorilla Hemingway blasts him full of bullets.

"There," said Cyborg Gorilla Hemingway, "now we can have some real 
?writing with simple declarative sentences!"  But just as Cyborg Gorilla 
?Hemingway is about to sit down and write, a cloaked figure enters the 
?room.  "Aroint thee, thou qualling bat-fowling canker-blossom!  Or face 
?the wrath of..."  The figure removes his cloak, revealing...  "William 
?Shakespeare!"  Shakespeare pulls out his...

By Tom Russell

Shakespeare pulls out his Rutabaga of Doom and looks you steadily in 
?the eye.  "You must now come with me," he says.

Cyborg Gorilla Hemingway cuts him off.  "No!  You have to come with ?me!"
"Thou art as untrustworthy as..."

Cyborg Gorilla Hemingway cuts him off again, grabbing you urgently by 
?the shoulders.  "Don't trust him!  He'll kill you all!"

"What should we do?" says the nun, turning to you.  "Do we trust 
?Shakespeare or Hemingway?"




?# 13!


it's where all the action is!

By Arthur Spitzer

'D is for Disco Viking Gila Monster 70's Flashback Issue'
The 1970s...

It was a dark and funky night.  The Village People's song 'Macho Man' 
played ?in the background.  People were getting ready to boogie down. 
And then he ?came in.  He wore bell bottoms and a polyster shirt.  He 
had a gold chain ?necklace and some mood rings.  And -- he was a gila 

"Whohh!" said a girl named Rhonda wearing a roller derby costume. 
"Who's ?Mr. Smooth with the horny helmet?  He's giving me a Saturday 
Night Fever!"

"That, Sweet Cheeks, is Dr. Dance Magic himself," said the bartender 
named ?Larry.  "He's the Baron of Boogie.  There ain't no one alive that 
can match ?him on the dance floor."

"He's So Dreamy!"

"You can say that again.  But I got to warn you if you're alone with him 
for ?just one sec he'll eat you alive!"

"Mmm.  Sounds like my kind of man!"

"You can say that again."

Suddenly without warning a voice thundered in the room. "Gobble! Gobble! 

"Oh shit!  Not him!" Larry the bartender quickly put the glass that he 
was ?filling down.  Someone had entered the Dance Studio.  A turkey.  A 
turkey ?with a pimp hat!

"Damn, it's Dr. Dance Magic's greatest arch-enemy: Jive the Pimp Turkey! 
?And Jive's Go-Go-Hoes are with him!"  Larry said pointed to the gang of 
?ladies surrounding the turkey with the pimp cane.  "There's going to be 
a ?Disco Duel!"

Suddenly the Bee Gee song, 'Staying Alive' started to pound away from 
the ?speakers.  The gila monster with the viking helmet pointed to the 
sky like ?John Travolta and did a twirl.  Multi-Colored lights flickered 
through the ?room.

The Boogie Showdown of all Boogie Showdown had begun.  Everyone just 
stopped ?what they were doing and stared as the Two Disco Titan's feet 
did battle on ?the dance floor.

"Something's Wrong!" Rhonda said after a few minutes.  "Dr. Dance Magic 
is ?losing it!  Jive the Pimp Turkey is just too good!  Dr. Dance Magic 
is being ?out boogied!  I think he's given up.  He's just standing there 
on the dance ?floor -- No wait!  He's got something.  It's a -- A 
broadsword!  He's going ?to..."

There was a blood curdling scream.  Jive the Pimp Turkey's head lay in 
the ?middle of the floor in a pool of blood.
"God!" Rhonda's face was full of horror.  "What's he doing!?  What's he 
?doing to that turkey!?"

"Must be dinner time," Larry replied.  "Told you, Sweet Cheeks.  He'll 
eat ?you alive unless you're dead then he'll eat you dead."
End of 70's Flashback...

The gila monster with the viking helmet's mind returned to the present. 
  He ?looked at the raft he was floating on full of stranger.  He 
decided that he ?would...

Arthur "Afternoon Delight" Spitzer

He decided that he would have to be careful about when he indulged in a 
?meaningful flashback.  In the interim between the start of the 
?flashback and its sweet, luscious end, the others had apparently made 
?the important decision between Cyborg Gorilla Hemingway and Shakespeare 
?without him.

"Forsooth!" said Shakespeare after a trans-dimensional portal had 
?swallowed the raft, "Bwahahahaheehoha!"

"That's not true iambic pentameter!" said the old woman clad in bikini 
?and weilding cigar.  "Which means... you're not really Shakespeare!"
"You may have found me out," snarled the faux bard of avon, "but it is 
?too late now!  For you are now in the clutches of... Shaka Zulu!"
He started to pull at the Shakespearean costume and face mask with one 
?hand, as he pulled out a long impaling spear with the other.
"What are we going to do?" lamented the nun.

"Rodilla!" said the raft.

This reminded the Viking Gila Monster of an earlier point in his life, 
?when (for a brief and shameful moment) he voted for Reagan.

It wasn't really his fault: Reaganomics made sense to him at the time, 
?gas prices were soaring, and, most importantly of all, there was a bear 
?in the woods, damn it!  A god damn bear!

And if there was one thing the Viking Gila Monster was afraid of...
If there was one thing that could be construed as being his only 
?weakness... it was bears!  Especially bears in the god-damn woods!
He shuddered, and this was enough to jog him out of his ?psuedo-flashback.

Again, he cursed himself for indulging in a flashback at an inopportune 
?moment.  For now, Shaka Zulu was gone.  So were the Viking Gila 
?Monster's strange companions.

He was no longer on a raft floating in some interdimensional portal, or 
?even on a raft floating in some tempest-toss'd sea.  No.
He was on a stationary raft, in the middle of the woods, surrounded by 
?three bears.  Porridge dripped from their snouts as they inched closer, 
?closer, closer.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the

The Unfinished Sentence-Verse # 8
By Arthur Spitzer

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the Man known as Ranch Rancherson sat in a 
?rocking chair and rocked while he dipped his Ranch Style Potatoe 
(spelled ?with an E as a tribute to Dan Quayle and so Tom Russell will 
do one of his ?oh so amusing spelling critiques) Chips in a Bucket of 
Ranch Style Dressing. ?His dog, Rancho, sat by his side licking drops of 
spilled Ranch Style ?Dressing that fell on the wooden porch.

"You can't keep doing that, Ranch!" his wife, Ranchitta, screamed while 
?flailing her arms about.  "Humans weren't meant to consume that much 
Ranch ?Style Dressing!  It's inhuman!  Why can't you stop!  Why must you 
eat so ?much Ranch Dressing!  Why are you doing this?!  Don't you care 
about your ?health?  Why, Ranch?!  Why?!  You're going to kill yourself, 
Ranch!  Please! ?Stop!"  Ranchitta looked to the heavens.  "Please, God, 
stop him from doing ?this!  Stop this horrible Ranch Dressing Suicide 
Binge!  Please!"  Tears ?started streaming from her eyes.

"Ah, quit being such a nag!" Ranch Rancherson said as he popped another 
?Ranch Style Potatoe Chip Covered in Ranch Style Dressing into his 
mouth. ?But, as it turned out, that was one Ranch Style Potatoe Chip 
Covered in ?Ranch Style Dressing too many.  His heart filled to the brim 
with Ranch ?Dressing exploded.  Ranch Rancherson fell from his rocking 
chair; his body ?hit his wooden porch.  Ranch Dressing started to stream 
from his mouth, ?nostrils, ears, eyeballs, and other bodily orifices. 
Rancho quickly rushed ?to his Master's body and started to lick the 
ranch dressing leaking out of ?Ranch Rancherson's eyes.

And somewhere, a Robot wearing a cowboy hat watched all of this.  And it 
?smiled a cold mechanical smile.

Meanwhile, back at the teddy bear picnic, the...

Arthur "Ranchless" Spitzer

  The Unfinished Sentence-Verse # 9
--Tom Russell

Meanwhile, back at the teddy bear picnic, the last scion of the 
?Rancherson fortune, Ronald "Hank" Rancherson, squeezed his moth-eaten 
?teddy bear, like so many of the other small children-and-teddy-bear 
?couples picnicking on this glorious Sunday morning; they all clapped 
?their hands and laughed at the tax accountant who had been chosen to 
?entertain them.

He straightened his tie and cleared his throat, not for the first, and 
?not for the last time.  "Well, the long and short of it, boys and 
?girls, is that this woman thought she could claim both the 
?homesteader's exemption _and_ the standardized exemption, and you 
?should have seen her face when I told her this was sadly not the way it 
?works."  He chuckled; the children laughed and clapped some more.

Poor Hank!  This is his last happy moment.  For soon the news will 
?spread that his father has died.  He stands to inherit the Rancherson 
?fortune, the Rancherson Secret, and also, the Rancherson enemies.
He will be able to trust no-one.  No-one except his teddy bear, Oswald.
Enjoy this last happy moment, Hank: for within seconds, it will spoilt 
?by gunfire.

The tax accountant adjusts his tie and clears his throat for what will 
?prove to be the last time.

"Now, children, here's a funny story about a small business owner who

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