RACCIES/LNH/LNHY/NTB: Just Imagine... Saxon Brenton's RACCies on a Plane Filled with Killer Ninja Gorillas! #1
arspitzer at earthlink.net
Wed Jan 17 19:49:43 PST 2007
Just Imagine... Saxon Brenton's RACCies
on a Plane Filled with Killer Ninja Gorillas! #1
"But, I'm leavin' on a jet plane
Don't know when I'll be back again
Oh Ninja, I hate to go"
-- John Denver VS The Ninjas
I'm a guy. In a trenchcoat. And I'm sitting on a plane.
Of course it will only be a matter of time before I start fighting
ninjas. This is the calm before the storm.
But right now I'm sitting and contemplating life.
There's someone sitting next to me. A strange tall man wearing an old
railroad conductor's hat, dress pants, shirt, and suspenders. I get the
impression he wants to talk to me. I try to ignore him, but it doesn't
seem to do any good.
"Say, you wear a trenchcoat, don't you?" he says with a friendly smile.
"Yeah. What of it." I try not to make any eye contact.
"It's okay. I'm a member too. A member of the NTB," he says with a wink.
"No idea what you're talking about."
"The Net.Trenchcoat Brigade."
"Never heard of it." God, I wish they had a mute section.
"Oh, right." He gives another wink. "Gotcha. We're being watched,
aren't we? Who is it? The Universal Office? The Incorporate
Conspiracy? The Naughty Teenaged Babes? I fought those luscious lasses
once. Well, more like I let them beat me -- not so much a fight. The
names Simon Velcro BTW." He puts his hand out so I can shake it. After
a couple of minutes he realizes I'm not going to shake it.
A name. God, I had a name once. Back in the days before I put on a
trenchcoat. Back before I fought ninjas. But it was so long ago. What
is my name? I finally make something up. "Guy. Guy Trenchcoat."
"Pleased to meet you, Guy! Oh BTW just in case you were wondering why I
don't seem to be wearing a trenchcoat, well, it was stolen. By A
Negatively Trained Bartender, I might add. Nasty sort. Spent a few
years in the LNH by the name Bladder Infection ?Lad. But I've decided
to go back to my roots. Yes. Mature story telling. There's the key.
I imagine you're on some soul-searching journey, eh? Some quest to find
the truth of the universe and its deep social and political
ramifications on our society in some grand symbolism enriched allegory,
right? Can't quite do that sort of thing in spandex. Need a
trenchcoat. Yes. A trenchcoat. And some smokes. A cigarette dangling
from your mouth. Blast the airline regulations that deny us our baser
pleasures. So, where are you headed?"
And something funny happens while I'm listening to this moron blab away.
I begin to want the ninjas. I want them to come so this stupid
conversation can finally come to an end. Why won't they come? What's
taking them so long? How much more of this do I have to take? Finally,
"Look you stupid bastard! I wear a trenchcoat! I fight ninjas! That's
my life! I have no name! I have no destination! I have no dreams! I
have nothing except this trenchcoat and this magical gun that I use to
kill the ninjas! There is nothing else! Nothing!"
"Wow! How did you smuggle a gun on here? I tried to smuggle some
shampoo on the plane and I got a full body strip search for my trouble.
I have to admit I kind of enjoyed it, but still..."
"Oh, I get it! This is all an allegory about the Middle East crisis and
the ninja (which is the proper plural of ninja -- just so you know)
represent the price of oil. Brilliant."
And I try to clear his voice out of my mind.
Come Ninjas. Come Ninjas. Come Ninjas!!!
And I wait.
And I wait.
Elsewhere on the Plane...
Seated in a private section of this super dooper jet was a dog. A dog
wearing a trenchcoat. And a gold necklace on his neck. And a tenor
sax. A dog named Dr. Cool J Dog.
And in the seat opposite to him was a reporter with a notebook working
for Magazine called Pointless Reading Magazine. A man named Pointless
Pointless Interviews Man: "I guess the first question I have to ask you
is this: Why are you so damn cool?"
Dr. Cool J Dog: "Well. That's a question I get quite a lot. What can
I say? I'm cool because I'm Dr. Cool J Dog. Can't help it. Also the
fact that I have a lower blood temperature might be a factor."
PIM: "How can I -- or the readers at home become that cool?"
Dr CJD: "Well. It's scientifically impossible to be as cool as I am,
but if you or your readers want to get close to the coolness that is me
you go to the newsgroup rec.arts.comics.creative and start writing for
the LNHY Imprint. You'll be so damn cool you'll give your neighborhood
PIM: "Cool. What are your thoughts on the whole Middle East crisis?"
Dr CJD: Well, all I can say is that if people would just stop hating
each other and start writing for the LNHY Imprint, the world would be a
much happier place.
PIM: "Amen to that. And how about Saxon Brenton? This is his third
and final time of handling the Raccies. What are your thoughts on that?"
Dr CJD: What can I say? Saxon Brenton was one of those true gems that
light up the Universe. I always loved the way he would poke dangerous
animals with sticks and stick his hands down crocodiles' throats. And
the way he'd say 'Crikey' with that funny accent and kid like grin of
his while he was doing it. *Sigh*. And to be killed by some bastard
stingray. *Shakes head*. He was one of the good ones. I'm not quite
sure how he's going to do the Raccies from beyond the grave, but if
anyone can -- Saxon can. God bless you, mate."
PIM: "Umm. I think you're thinking of Steve Irwin. Saxon Brenton is
still alive. Saxon Brenton writes Limp Asparagus Lad."
Dr CJD: "Oh. Umm. Never heard of him."
PIM: "Speaking of the awards, you're not eligible for the favorite new
character award this year because you first appeared in 2005 and you
weren't even nominated that year. Why did the voters make such a huge
mistake in not giving you that prize?"
Dr CJD: "Well, you can't blame them. My first appearance was in some
stupid story called 'A Suicide on Destiny's Child' or something like
that. My part was the only thing worth reading in that issue. I tried
to convince the writer to fire that asian guy and put me in the lead,
but they decided against it. And well, that's the way it goes."
PIM: "Do you feel good about winning this year?"
Dr CJD: "Well. I mean 'The Way Cool Adventures of Dr. Cool J Dog' is
probably the best thing to be written since Tolstoy scribbled down 'War
and Peace' and I was like Marlon Brando in it. But. You can never tell
about these things. Because you always have to take into consideration
the 'Talking Gorilla Conspiracy'.
PIM: "Are you saying that there's a talking gorilla bias in the Raccies?"
Dr CJD: "Of course. When was the last time a talking dog ever won a
PIM: "Well, Cauliflower the Christmas Miracle Pooch won a couple of
Dr CJD: "Right. I'll let you in on an ugly secret. Cauliflower wasn't
really a dog. He was actually -- a midget talking gorilla in a dog suit.
Dr CJD: "Sad, but true. I was up for the Cauliflower part. Would have
given him an edge. Thought he should carry a gun. But the writers
disagreed with my interpretation. And so the story goes."
PIM: "Sounds like you would have made a badass Cauliflower."
Dr CJD: "Don't you know it. But there's the thing. In this world you
have to remember that just because you deserve something doesn't mean
you'll get it. Look at Archer Sloane. Clearly if anyone ever deserved
an award for greatness it was my good buddy Archer Sloane. He was one
of the best. But because people just can't handle greatness they gave
his award to some guy named 'Anyone, but Archer Sloane'. It devastated
him. He lost his job. Started drinking and doing drugs. I saw him the
other day. He was panhandling in the streets for a heroin fix. It was
sad. He was one of the beautiful people. But I guess too beautiful for
our world. Sad."
PIM: "That is a sad story. Moving on. Let's take a look at your
personal life. What do you think about these rumors that say you're gay?"
Dr CJD: "Completely ridiculous. I mean really. I guess this all
started because of that 'Gay Sex' tape I made. Look. I've made over a
hundred sex tapes that have me banging tons and tons of
hot-mouthwatering babes! Hundreds! And so I accidentally make one --
just one -- 'Gay Sex' tape and all of a sudden I'm Mr. Gay? I mean come
on! Who hasn't made at least one 'Gay Sex' tape of themselves? Really?
And so hey -- I didn't want to do it. It was just one of those
things. You see I'm in Europe, which is culturally different. And I'm
a little -- you know -- stoned. And -- I accidentally walk into this
room and there are these guys who invite me to join them... And I don't
want to be impolite so I... Look. It was okay, but not my thing. It
was Europe! Just one tape. It was nothing. This whole thing's been
blown out of proportion."
PIM: "But -- it was like 12 hours long."
Dr CJD: "12 European Hours! Time works differently there. Look. I
suspect your readers are really bored by this. Let's move to another
PIM: "Okay. Any thoughts about your future work?"
Dr CJD: "Well, I'd like to do some dramatic work. Something serious.
I've been in talks with Dave Van Domelen about possibly doing an ASH
series. I've got this series in my head called 'Tek Dog's Galactic
Space Banger Posse'. I'd be playing this cool space captain who's part
computer hacker and part space pimp who leads this group of unruly space
pirates across the galaxy and I'd have sex with alien space women. But
we're still in the negotiation phase, so it might not happen."
PIM: "Sounds good. I guess we should start to wrap this up. A couple
final questions. What are your thoughts on all of these killer ninja
gorillas who've silently crept into our private part of the jet? Is
this another sign of why we need better airport security?"
Dr CJD: "What? What are you... Oh, no! Arrrghhhhrhhghghghh!!!!
PIM: "How does that feel? Killer Ninja Gorillas stabbing you to death?
Does that... Hmm. Maybe I should stop asking questions and get the
hell... No! Aaaarrrrrghghghghghgh!!!!! Please!!!
"And so it begins..."
The voice comes in a deep dark corner of the room where a group of
masked gorillas with golden banana necklaces sit in a circle.
"The Conspiracy has taken care of the Cool Dog. Now nothing will stand
in the way of complete talking gorilla victory in the Raccies."
In the middle of the circle lies a crystal. Within that crystal can be
seen a story. A story entitled 'Just Imagine Saxon Brenton Presents the
RACCies... Again! #6'.
"First it was motherfucking snakes! Then it was motherfucking ninjas!
And now? It's motherfucking killer ninja gorillas! Motherfucker! I
suppose the next time I'll have to deal with motherfucking
motherfuckers! Damn, how I hate flying! Motherfucker!"
Samuel L. Jackson took a deep breath. And then he continued on his way
down the aisle carrying a big bag of trouble.
"Wow! Hey, you're Samuel L. Jackson! Aren't you?" gasped Simon Velcro.
"No. I'm Santa "Motherfucking" Claus! Who the fuck is this chatty
motherfucker," Samuel L. Jackson said asking the Man in the Trenchcoat.
"Don't ask. You don't want to know. How bad is it?"
"It's bad. Bad as a motherfucker fucking a motherfucker at a
motherfucker jamboree. They're swarming all over the plane. And
they're not just ninjas -- They're Killer Motherfucking Ninja Gorillas!"
"Damn." A disturbed expression surfaced on The Man with a Trenchcoat's
face. "You have the guns?"
Samuel L. Jackson nodded his head. He emptied his big bag. Guns and
hand-grenades fell out of it.
"Whoahh! God! How in the world did you get all of this on the plane?"
Simon Velcro's eyes bulged out.
"What are you? The Motherfucking Question Fairy? The only thing you
need to know is that they're a million killer ninja gorillas on this
plane and we've got to stop them. So here's a fucking gun! You know
how to shoot, motherfucker?"
"Umm, yeah. Kind of. But -- isn't shooting a gun on an airplane a very
bad idea -- I mean..."
"They're no good ideas left. Just bad ones and really bad ones. We're
all probably going to die here. The only way we could possibly beat all
of these killer gorilla ninjas is if we had a miracle. A motherfucking
miracle! And do you see any motherfucking miracles? You see any?"
And all of a sudden out of one of the baggage compartments a beaver fell
out. A beaver wearing red heart shaped sunglasses.
"Well how about that. A motherfucking miracle. Looks like we might
have a chance after all." Samuel L. Jackson tossed Radish the
Valentine's Day Miracle Beaver a gun.
"Are you sure that's a good idea," Simon Velcro said in a slightly
fearful way, "Giving a beaver a gun?!"
"You're right! Probably needs two." Samuel L. Jackson tossed another
gun in Radish's direction.
"They're coming. I can feel it," said the Guy wearing a Trenchcoat.
"Let's look sharp people! Motherfucking Lock and Load! Ladies and
Gentlemen, let's show these motherfuckers how to boogie!!"
"Um. Are you sure this is how an NTB story should be written?" gulped
Simon Velcro as he closed his eyes and whispered a pray.
Is Dr. Cool J Dog really dead?
And if so who will shill for the LNHY Imprint?
How did a bunch of killer ninja gorillas get on a plane without anyone
Will this cascade actually reach a conclusion?
Will we ever get to see 'Tek Dog's Galactic Space Banger Posse'?
Is this really Saxon Brenton's Last Raccie Award Show?
Some of these questions might eventually be answered by someone who
Simon Velcro is Tom Russell's
Archer Sloane is Peter "Tick" Milan's
Samuel L. Jackson is Samuel L. Jackson's
Just Imagine... Saxon Brenton's RACCies! concept by Andrew "NO .SIG MAN"
Some of this issue was supposed to be 'A Guy in a Trenchcoat Fighting
Ninjas #2', which I guess now probably won't ever be written...
And I haven't a clue what universe this is all taking place.
Arthur "I'm sure I'll think of something funny to put here after I post
More information about the racc