LNH/REPOST: Jong #5 -- ' The Search for an Audience Part 1'

Arthur Spitzer arspitzer at earthlink.net
Thu Dec 19 18:11:40 PST 2013

Jong #5 is weird.  Really weird.  I don't know what I was on when I 
wrote it (cough medicine?).

This was I guess supposed to be part one of some multi-part epic that I 
never got around to finishing -- that being said, this issue is pretty 
much a self-contained.

Looking over some parts of it, I'd say I was trying to write like David 
R Henry (my other series during this period was On the Deadbeat where I 
was trying to write like Paul Hardy) so that's probably where some of 
the weirdness comes from.

The main villain of this issue is Dumster-TRON, which Dave Van Domelen 
is kind of responsible for (an issue of Constellation during Robot 
Invasion had Slobbering Grue! fighting a Robo-MAC dumpster.

There was a long gap between this and issue four.  I was trying to make 
each issue better than the last, which ultimately was why this series 
ground to a halt here.  Another reason I probably lost interest in 
finishing up issue six was because 'On the Deadbeat' was a lot more 
popular (well at least in getting feedback and reviews -- because it got 
some.  Jong #5 got crickets chirping (in its dreams).

This is the first mention of The Hokey the Wonderseal Show.

Oh, and I didn't actually edit this (it probably does need a lot of 
editing though).

Witness The Last Issue of JONG...

(Or is it?)

From: ars3 at dana.ucc.nau.edu (Arthur R. Spitzer)
Subject: LNH: JONG #5
Newsgroups: alt.comics.lnh,rec.arts.comics.creative
Date: 28 Jan 1996 04:58:25 GMT

**Warning:  If you are offended by offensive stuff, then this might not
be your cup of tea.  Unless you're into that kind of thing of course.
Thank You.**

<<The Continuity Jive Stuff -- this happens somewhere between
Constellation #22 and #23 (I think) with the exception of the beginning,
which happens after Robot Invasion.  I refuse to explain why.>>

{Oh Yes.. before I forget.  This whole issue is all Dave's fault.  He'll
deny it and probably make some excuse like I had a free will, but the
man's living in denial.}

Okay, Kid Recap.  Do you have the lawn mowing stuff in *position*?

       "Uh.. yeah.  Umm.  I don't really care to much for this idea.."

       Nonsense.  This is a great idea.  Revolutionary even.  Summarizing
while juggling lethal lawn maintenance equipment.. God I'm Einstein
hooked on phonics sometimes.. I just don't know why people still don't
acknowledge my genius.. possibly envy.

       "Err but well.. It's just that I've already died two times while
giving other summaries for you.. (check Jong #4 and Omaha Project ?? for
gory-graphic details - Editor Note)

       Sure, sure think about Yourself.. But what about all of those
orphans out there in this cold heartless world who have never seen a Man
Vivisected in.. err I mean.. juggling razor sharp weed wackers while
rehashing the last issue?  Are you telling the Tiny Tims in the world
that life is not a box of chocolates?? ..That they Might as well look
forward to a life of selling and cutting bait in Montana and watching
Full House reruns.. Is that what you're saying!?!  Because I'm not sure
if I share your Anti-Smurf Dystopian type view point of the world, Mr.

       "Tiny Tim?!  Um.. gosh I didn't know..  I mean if I knew he read
this title.. well I.. "  Kid Recap with a grunt picked up the Lawn-
Boy(TM)  "For the kids.."

       That's the Spirit!  Now lets hurry this up.. I'm renting those
machines by the hour.. Oh and I'm really sorry about the Piano thing.  I
told those guys to use the mind altering drugs After they moved the
piano.. not before.  Those wacky crazy kind of guys.

       "Ok.. previously on Jong.. I.. Oh my Lord of Hea.. Slobbering!
fought.. yikes.. I.. AAAAAAHHHxxxxxxxxxxxjdhkjGGGGGGG!!!

       *Ooo.  Ouch!  I bet that must smart.. anyway I'm afraid do to
technical reasons we won't be able to continue this recap..  so I hope
you've read Jong #4.. and from the looks of things you might want to
read this issue too..(Don't worry Josh.. a little scotch tape.. your
character is fine.. Honest to God..)*


A Deserted Highway..

People don't know me.  For some I'm just this warped extension to the
human race and a trademark of TSR.  Others just think I'm a Trekkie
that's gone a little way overboard with the Plastic Surgery.  And then
there are those.. I'm not going to name names.. that think.. I rhyme
with self.  Let them think that.  Let them live in there champagne
bubbly dream land, drive their Wienermobiles, and buy their salsa made
in Net.York City.

       When the LNH and the world needs a guy to save the President from
assassination by a bunch of near-sighted world-class chefs, who do you
think they send?  Kittens in trees, fat to free, windows to clear, money
to save, Tonya Harding..  Hey I'm always there and the great thing about
it is that I don't ask questions.  That's for Theory Man and Cynical
Lass.  I'm the fifth best at what I do, and what I do would make a grown
man think that he was Mickey Rooney.

       And I'm driving to some place.  Espanola I think.  Someone pushed
too many buttons, and I'm here to sew them back on.  I'm driving like a
mad man, in a car that shouldn't by any physical laws move.  It's a
cross between a Yugo and a Tonka Truck.  Who knows the deals that
Occultism Kid made to get this thing running.  But remember I don't ask
questions.  I just do my job.  Especially when I have other things to
worry about.  Like possibly coming back, and finding out my favorite
Chinese Restaurant is just some funky dream.  Finding out that I'm
married to my girlfriend Hooter Woman and that she wants me to take out
the trash and wear that sweater her mother gave me for Christmas.
Finding out my Writer has changed his name to get National Endowment of
the Arts Funds.  But hey, Now I'm just being paranoid.  Heheh, if I
don't watch these emotional escapades in my mind, I might wind up locked
up in my own survivalist barricade of barbwire and brick, shooting
anything that moves and writing for Omega.

       And as I'm passing by a sign that says '10 miles to Espanola.  You
can still turn around.'  I'm thinking to myself.  I mean this could be
worse than it seems.  Instead of going off on some brilliant humor
intense journey battling incredibly ingenious subtle fiends and
discovering aspects of my psyche, I could have been hijacked by some
wannabe hack who thinks that saliva and banjo jokes are funny and be
brawling with Megalithic Doomish Machines while uttering Dialogue that
wouldn't be fit for a Morphin Power Ranger.  I guess I should thank God
my Writer has more respect for me than that.


       And Somewhere in the headquarters of the Loonivearth's bravest,
most powerful, and most over-enhanced gaudy humans, Irony Man's irony
detector leaps out of his pocket beeping hysterically, going on a
mindless rampage through the laundry room only to be stopped by a
brigade of LNH'rs made up of Nit-Pick Lad, The Incredible Man With No
Life, and Cheese-Cake Eater Lad who smothers the beast in a raspberry
delight causing the circuitry to explode.  But that is for a tale yet to
be told...

   \-__   ___Guest Starring___-//
      / //                           ___________
     / // /   // /\  /// /---\\      | JAN  96 |
    / // / / // /  \/// //_<-\  \#5\ |Approved |
\___// /___// /_/\_// \____//   --- |by no one|
                     ...ELF?         |Actually |
*-New Snappy Logo-*

(The comic for the person who has laughed at anything)

The Search for an Audience Part 1

(Editor's Note:  Cows don't say mow.)

{{{A Robot Invasion Crossover}}}

Drizzt statement back during the flamewars.. strangely enough it and a
bout of dyslexia inspired me..


Espanola, Net.Mexico
Several or So Months in the Past.........

It was a double drab, desolate day.  It just seemed as though some evil
power-hungry sadistic deity had grabbed all of the smiles on the clouds
and turned them upside down.  The world felt like a Japanese Game
Contestant that had given the wrong answer.  Somehow transforming robots
had entered the Looniverse, which wouldn't in itself be all that bad,
except they had some strange eccentricities like moving the furniture
(buildings, etc.), mass genocide and using my toothbrush which is
usually a sign of being a bad roommate and potential trouble in the

       And amazingly even Espanola wasn't immune to the exposure.  Yet,
Espanola wasn't about to be some punching bag for a bunch of over
excited rejects from a Hasbro Toy Commercial.  And their guardian,
during times of distress (all other times scapegoat), the Man that even
Madonna Would Think Twice About Before Inviting to Dinner, sat staring
with justice in his knuckles and sweat on his armpits and a few other
places best left to our reader's imagination (Then again that's probably
a bad idea).  Their was distaste in his brow as he stared at the
portfolio of insanity and chaos on the tube.  Every time he clicked the
remote, he saw more bloodshed, torn limbs, commercials with Ed McMahon,
more blood and entrails.  He finally couldn't take it anymore and rose
like a thorn while the words he tried to think for the erroneous evil he
had just seen dangled in front of him.

"I can't believe they pre-empted "The Hokey the Wonder Seal Show" for

He paused for awhile, harnessing his medium, and then continued.

"And Just when I was about to find out whether Stewie the Clown was an
agent of the Toupee People, and the extent of Kangaroo Cal's affair with
Dr. Wino's yard gnome too."

He finished his speculation nigh foreshadowing with a mutter and angst
on tip of his tongue.  "Probably also canceled "Barbiturate Basted
Chipmunk Rangers".  Stupid Cable Company!"

But our hero of a thousand strange and unusual gestures, is not one to
be curbed by limitless pessimism (or even the word pessimism.. The
science of using Pez Dispensers... Right?).  It was he who had seen to
the rebuilding of Espanola's Adult Entertainment Communities after Self-
Righteous Preacher's guest star appearance.  He even contributed some of
his own money. (Well actually most of the money had originally already
belonged to Espanola.. But hey it's the thought that counts..).
Besides, as he flipped through the stations again, he could have sworn
he saw some Media expert talking about Robot hygiene.

It wasn't Stewie the Clown squirting seltzer at old out of work actors.
But then again, nothing quite is.

But if our hero contemplated he could have a fun morning of frittering
away at the boob tube banishing braincells that never had really
existed, then he was about to have nice little cup of Mr. Reality Econo
Size.  The screen went black.. and a sound charged out.  What followed,
some might consider perhaps the most inanest Emergency Broadcast ever
done, but this is Espanola where inanity is a dime a dozen, and dime is
just another four letter word like moot.

"Not Testing.. 1..2..3 This is a real Emergency Broadcast.  If this had
been a testing of the Emergency Broadcast System, instead of the real
Emergency Broadcast you would be witness to me saying that this was in
fact not a real one and saying that if it had been a real one you would
after the beep be hearing me informing you that it is a real Emergency
Broadcast.. or Would it be a fake one.  Hmm.. is reality real or are we
all just a crazy daisy dream thought of by some marketing executives to
entertain the populace of a civilization of psychopathic hairy lima
beans.. and which came first ..The Egg or Ted Kopple.. I feel that.. hey
give me back my microphone.. you deal with forces you do not
comprehend.. I uh.. hey.."

"Sorry about that folks, let me make this short.  There have been
numerous reports that a strange dumpster is disemboweling and
dismembering people.  There have also been reports that strange people
are giving reports about strange dumpsters disemboweling and
dismembering people.  So its probably a good idea to watch out for
strange people and strange dumpsters.  And remember.. if you're in the
middle of a street lane ..its probably a little to late to look both
ways.  Thank You."

There was nothing but static left as Slobbering! stared at the screen.
The crackle had a good beat.. but you couldn't dance to it.  But
Slobbering! didn't have dance shoes anyways.. or shoes for that matter
so it was a problematic point.  And he had taken Banjo appreciation back
in high school instead of dance.  And Even if he could change the very
essence of time to reschedule his classes he had more important things
to think of.  Dumpsters.

It seemed like just a few days ago during a brief tip toe towards
Grandma's Booze, while staring at the flowers and dancing mushrooms, he
had been thinking of how by just listening to the profound wisdom of
your friendly neighborhood dumpster, the world could sing in perfect
harmony again.  He stared back to the present, which consisted of Ed
McMahon telling him to mail his entry before it was too late.  It
appeared he was going to have to do a little more fine tuning with that
theory before claiming the Nobel Peace Prize.

The screams of agony grew higher, until Slobbering! could not ignore it
any longer.  "Gosh, the soundproofing in these apartments are awful,"
his voice resonated.  "Darn it!  This mockery of all humanity has gone
on too long.  First Chipmunk Rangers.. then my chances for a Noble Peace
Prize.. no more"  The dramatic music started to vibrate.  Slobbering!
tore off his glasses.  The transformation had begun.  No more was he
simple Average-all-American Joe,  J. Slobbering Grue! shoplifting
pervert extraordinaire and devout reader of Adult TV-Guide.  Power of
elemental forces banned by Dead and Obscure Gods of the 70's seemed to
enrapture him... there was a pretty.. all right I'm lying through my
teeth.  With the exclusion that by taking off his glasses, he some how
managed to lower even his IQ, there was absolutely no change, but his
name.  He was now the Slobbering Grue!  The music stopped with
Slobbering! leaping out of his window.  Neverminding the fact that he
couldn't fly and he was three stories up.  Slobbering! never was much
for annoying little details.


Elsewhere in the heart of darkness..

"And I said Do the 'Hokey Pokey' or Face the *Consequences*.."

It was just an alleyway.

"This is inhuman, we're.. we're Americans.. you can't do this to us!!"

Filled with Americans, or at least they claimed to be.

"I Can't?  This squishie tells me what I can and cannot do.  Look around
squishies.  I see destruction, chaos, commercials with Ed McMahon.  I
see your helpless heroes flying around just to keep ground.  See me.
See my teeth tearing your useless lives and then flossing.  I am Law and
you are my puppets.  Any more questions?  Err.. yes, you.. with the Red
Sox cap?"

Oh yeah and a depraved possibly psychotic talking dumpster, but other
wise it was just a normal everyday alleyway.

"Umm.. I've got a note from my mother excusing from this kind of.."

"Enough!!  Dumpster-TRON has Spoken!!  Now put your left foot in...!!!"

But before the emotional butchery began, out of the blue brought the
Defender of Drivel.

"Oh.. Antiochus Motor Oil.. what is it Now..?"

"Hello folks, I was just wondering.. say.. what's going on here..?"

Dumpster-TRON muttered something to the effect that 'Emotional
Butchering just wasn't the same as it used to be' then replied  "We're..
uh rehearsing a play.. yes!!  A play.. And the whole world is the  stage 

"Really??  Hey, I was in a play once.. well actually I was an understudy
to a bush but still... if the other guy had gotten sick or run over or
something.. you never know.. I could be Marlon Brando right now.."
Slobbering! started to reflect on how cool it would be to have cotton in
his mouth.

"DID you come here for something..?!!" the Dumpster said irritated
interrupting Slobbering!'s thoughts.

"Huh..??  Oh yeah.. I'd just like to warn all of you folks.. I.. hmm.."
Damn Slobbering! thought, all that reflecting of living in an alternate
universe while being Marlon Brando had taken a toll on his memory.  "I
wonder if Ronald Reagan has daze like this."

"Were you.. by chance trying to warn us about a Psychopathic Dumpster!!"
grumbled one of the hostages who was becoming Really deeply annoyed.

"Hey.. you know.. you might be on to something.. say.. now that I look
at this place.. there's something wrong.. I.. you're not really actors..
are you.." Slobbering! said while pointing accusingly at the dumpster.

"I guess it was foolish of me to even attempt to match wits with the
self-acclaimed Leaking Law Man.."  It was all the dumpster could say,
his further efforts went into trying to keep balance and not to die by

Dumpster-TRON finally managed to grasp control of his senses and
continued.  "Where was I.. ah yes.. I guess it is time that I reveal the
true nature of my existence.. You see.. the dumpster you speak of..
well.. How can I put this?  He is my.."

There was a brief suspenseful pause.

  "Evil twin brother.."  Whether it was cantaloupe juice or a tear from
the dumpster could not be described.

"Really?" Slobbering said with a look that people who buy Smurf
Collector Plates for monetary gain have, even as all of the hostages
rolled there eye's simultaneously.

Dumpster-TRON stared briefly at Slobbering! dumbfounded.  He then
scoured the alleyway for hidden cameras.  Finally he ventured back to
the conversation at hand.  "Ahh yes.. the pain.. the pain.  It wasn't
always like this though.. Bobby.. that was his name....  Yep.. Bobby and
me were like twin-brothers.. always fooling our teachers by going to
each others classes.. sending telepathic messages to each other.. twin
stuff.. and then.. I don't know what happened.  He just went into the
dark side.  It was small stuff at first.  Mixing aluminum with paper..
then he started listening to wrap music (wrap music get it??  ahem.. no
need for violence.. back to the story -Editor Note).. I tried to wean
him back.. back to the Lord and Lawrence Welk.  He even went as far as
destroying these fellow squishies against right by giving them the
insane idea that I'm really the bad guy.  I've been trying to destroy
the evil mind control by forcing them to perform traditional folk

"I see..  I'm.. sorry.  I didn't know.  If there was anything I could do
or could have done.. you know.. I'd try.  But I have to do my job and
bring your brother to justice."  Slobbering! remorsed stealing dialogue
from a sensitive episode of T.J Hooker or Scooby Doo with a similar
situation hoping it might work here too.  "Fight for right.   Cure for
pure.  Would for good.  Train for humane.."  Slobbering! was on a
rhyming roll, it seemed nothing could stop him.  However, some force
managed to throttle the author into finishing this bane to all prose.

Before Slobbering! could shout 'Dirty Limerick Contest' Dumpster-TRON
interrupted again  "Yes.. yes.. For the Love of God Could You Just Get
The Hell Back To THe Damn PLOT!!"  Dumpster-TRON cried.  It definitely
wasn't cantaloupe juice this time.

"I think you mean Get The Hell(tm) Back To THE Damn PLOT.."  But because
Dumpster-TRON looked right now like a patriotic American finding out
someone had replaced all his underwear with Saddam Hussein under-roos,
Slobbering! decided not to press the issue, "..Ahh.. all right.. okay..
where were we?  Oh yeah.. So where is your evil twin.. right now?"

"Sigh.. Just so no more hurt.. I suppose there is no point in prolonging
this.. He's in.. there."  the Garbage of the Goodless lamented pointing
reluctantly to an abandoned tenement  "Performing crimes against
humanity that I couldn't say being Born again and all.."

"Of course.. well I guess I'd better go in there and save the world..
just walk right in.. and save the world.." Slobbering! spoke even as he
hesitated and even winked in hopes that someone would try to stop him
from this insanity, or volunteer to go instead.  "Just me going to
defeat a rather Nasty megalithic doomish machine.. just ole lonely me..
probably die a hor-horrible death.. and not pay off various large
gambling debts to the good people of Espanola.."

After about ten minutes of pausing, trying to look brave, dramatic, and
ad-libbing like hell on health food, it began to look like no one was
going to stop him from going into the pit of Armageddon.  However fate
was kind, for after another ten minutes Dumpster-TRON cut the tension
with a declaration.

"Hey.. I Know.  How about I Go into the condemned building instead.  I
mean after all.. no point in senseless violence.. And maybe my brotherly
love will turn him back to the side of the angels."

This couldn't have come at a more crucial time since Slobbering! had
started to get horrible cramps with all of the clenched fist and teeth
he had been using in his dramatic poise.  "Oh Lord Thank You and yes I
will become a nun after this adventure.. uhhh I mean, I guess rather
than fulfilling my need for moral outrage, that would probably better
for the hostages safety inside there.. I wish you luck.. may the force
be with you.."

As Slobbering! waited outside of the abandoned warehouse, waiting the
outcome of the up and coming diplomacy, he felt as if he should be doing
something.  Reassuring the Masses?  Building character?  Naahh!  Maybe
he'd just bug people by asking what time it was.

After awhile Dumpster-TRON came out, no worse for the wear.  Time was
hunky-dory again.

"So how did it go?"

"Huh.. oh that.. well.. you know.. uh well.. I vaporized the bastard..
just wouldn't listen to sense.. kind of sad.. but it was probably for
the best.. all well that ends well.. as they say.. Guess you best be

Slobbering! was about to agree, preparing for a 'Nick at Night" kind of
evening, after all it seemed like such an open and shut case.  He
should let the police and TV crews handle it.  But their was something
about the dumpster's facial expression's lack of emotion which got
Slobbering! to thinking.

"Hey.. wait a dog-gone minute, here!   If you're twins.. how am I
suppose too be able to tell that you're really the good twin..  And why
would a good brother vaporize his evil brother.. and what about this
O.J. Simpson trial.. why hasn't their been some gratuitous remark of it
by now.."  And then like a crippled sloth realization hit Slobbering!
All of this.. a farce?  Was he.. on ..TV's Bloopers and Practical

The sad fact that Dumpster-TRON's, rustic and blood embroidered razor
sharp teeth were closing in on Slobbering!'s delicate "If not yet ready
for prime time" neck, told him though that this was for all practical
reasons not the case.  Also the fact that the show had been canceled for
a long time, which slightly disturbed Slobbering! as he thought about
it.  Did NBC think of where the various percentages of our population
would go for their craving of the Cosby Kids mangling the same sentence
and breaking up seven or six times?  However, at the current moment
Slobbering! remained more interested in the crisis of him surviving the
outcome of this battle.

Hmm, a crazed dumpster is attacking me.. hmm.. Should I tie my hands
against my back..? err wait.. I have the disadvantage don't I.. guess
that would be a pretty *Bad* idea, Slobbering! pondered.

"Well I guess by now you've found out that I'm not the nice guy that I
seemed to be during the beginning of this conversation.  I really wanted
to wait until you also found out the secrets of the universe, but Hell
freezing over and all would kind of make that impossible.  Now could you
slow down, I've heard that fast food is bad for your health."

"Wait.. aren't you going to tell me your master plan.. before..??"

"Nope.. kind of pointless don't you think?"  Dumpster-TRON said as he
made a nice little abstract sculptor out of someone's candy store with
a few of his own points which missed Slobbering! by an inch.  "Since you
won't be alive to stop me.."

People were scrambling around, dogs were yapping, the children were

There are things that you don't do.

Dumpster-TRON's lid shattered through streets in a quite an impressive
display of property and population damage taking out specific vendors
that had set up shop selling 'I Survived Robot Invasion' T-shirts and
screwing up census takers.  Like a sinew endowed tiger he pounced
Slobbering! not stopping to ponder the irony of it all.

Things that you learned from various books, lectures from family, and
people that worship a strange deity called Miss Manners.

Dumpster-TRON managed to corner its prey in a secluded alleyway (Like I
couldn't see this coming.. Whoops.. Sorry.. was typing outloud).

Like.. You don't tug on Super Man's cape.

"Well, Squishie, I can't say that I haven't had the time of my life,
because I haven't.  But I'm afraid your time.. is up."

You don't spit in the wind.

"Do you have any last words before I paint every single cell of your
body from bones to nose hair like Bob Ross painting a happy little cloud
on this pitiful excuse for a city?"

You don't pull the mask off that Ole Lone Ranger.

"What did you say..?"

And.. you don't.... you ..you just don't.. make fun of a slobbering
grue's nose hair.. much less threaten one... because.. if you do.. the
outcome is very bad.. very bad.. (even though that doesn't rhyme with
wind.. but then again niether does Jim.. so there..)

"I said.. Do you.. say, what's with this sudden hush from our

"Hmm.. they must have realized by now this issue is going absolutely
nowhere and have focused their attention to various posts trying to hawk
old lawyers or some such.  Now back to your last statement..."

"Oh.. hum 'Do you have any last words before I paint every single cell
of your body from bones to nose hair like Bob Ross painting a happy
cloud on this pitiful excuse for a city?'  I think that was kind of the
theme I was going for."

"I see.."

It was an 'I see'.  But Slobbering! wasn't pretending to be a large body
of water or the third letter of the alphabet this time.  That would be
for more jocular moments.  No, this was an 'I see'  that was deadly
serious.  An 'I see'  that would stick out its foot and watch you fall
to the ground in slow motion with out changing its expression and then
lift your wallet.  Slobbering! stood on the cold hard cement face to
face with Dumpster-TRON.  Time flipped to another station.


A Jong Information Break-

If there was anything totally sacred to slobbering grues, it was their
nose hairs (That and defending Sharon Stone's actress abilities).  The
nose hairs had become almost a patron saint that would watch out for a
grue and vice versa.  This was largely do to slobbering grues having the
intellectual capacity of tapioca pudding, but there Was a legend.

It was a legend that had a tremendous trouble of occasionally landing in
court and being accused of trade mark infringements and other
frivolities because of its uncanny similarities with Saturday Night
Fever, The Dukes of Hazards, and Clash of the Titans.  But nevertheless
it was a legend (which had its thanks to the fact that most slobbering
grue judges and lawyers are easily bribed by a cold six-pac and a copy
of Furrboy).

The legend of S'not Bright and the Seven Nose Hairs dealt with the
hero's, S'not Bright, quest to find the magic 'flipping-tripping' dance
shoes.. so he could defeat his evil nemesis, called the Anti-S'not
Bright, in the annual Disco-Mania-Thon hosted by a Dick Clark clone, so
he could win back his girl and they could have sex and cheat on welfare
and live happily ever after until that tragic day when S'not Bright
finds out that his children bear an extraordinary similarity to Bill

Although S'not Bright was the main character and received top-billing
throughout the entire saga of S'not Bright, he was used more for comic
relief and set ups where the third party (whether it be a dancing
kangaroo or Judge Ito made no matter) would say, "Why doesn't he
understand?"  to which the nose hairs would reply all together, "He's
S'not Bright.." the joke usually fell right past all of actors,
audience, and writers, so you have to sometimes wonder why its even in
there, but nevertheless...

All in all the nose hairs were the movers and shakers, the ones that
kept the entire thing from being just another typical "Nose Hair
Shampoo" commercial.  The end of the play dealt with the last nose
hair (the rest having been killed or picked up by NBC for a comedy with
Tony Danza as a man raising six sarcastic multi-cultural nose hairs)
sacrificing its life in a battle with "Nancy The Time-Life Operator" who
had held the magic "f-t" shoes as a free gift (but only if you order
now) so that S'not Bright could get the shoes and win the dance contest.
The touching scene came when the nose hair comes back from the dead as a
ghost, telling S'not Bright, who was on the dance floor attempting to do
the "Hustle", to "Use the Force, Luke".  It was found out later that the
nose hair thought it was Obi-Wan Kenobi, but that didn't make the scene
any less moving.

And because of it, the nose hairs became an important part of society.
And sure there are always going to be the wet blankets that claim that
the nose hair shampoo companies planned the whole thing to boost lagging
sales.  And the talk about rumors of nose hairs that would sometimes
send subliminal messages asking audience members to bury all of their
life savings at particular addresses and vote for Lyle Lovette in all
presidential elections.  But there is no hard evidence to back these
claims up and were anyway probably started by those that are envious of
the nosehairs good looks and overall superiority.

The plays didn't last to long though because of the Slobbering
Foundation of the Arts! tendency to squander the remaining money on
gigantic zirconium 200 foot Elvi (Plural for Elvis.. I hope.).  Also
because the banjo solos were so popular, based on the "Clap your hands,
stomp your feet, and yell "Yee, Haw"" effect, they were found in all of
the great works of that time.  The problem was that once the slobbering
grues were in the theater, after a moving banjo solo, they usually would
have a riot and burn the place down.  As a slobbering theater critic!
once stated, "Oh sure.. it had a nice plot and good acting.. but did it
have a banjo solo!" and afterward set fire to the person interviewing
him.  After many years of similar problems and trying to make ends meet
the plays eventually folded.  But since everyone by that time had a
bootleg copy of 'S'not Bright' it was a moot point.

There were even a few souls who back then insisted that "S'not Bright
and The Seven Nose Hairs" was a daring political allegory with deep
meaning.  Fortunately all of these sickos were quickly rounded up,
dragged behind a watershed and shot.

And I know what you're thinking but this informercial was not funded by
Nose Hairs Society For The Domination of the Looniverse.. Honest to


Back in the Alley Way (A disgusting (yet fun for the family at the same
time) song about body parts in alleyways.. mostly backs though.. Oh wait
that was a description of the setting.. sorry.. go on -Editor Note)..

Dumpster-TRON was confused by Slobbering!'s stomping of feet, clapping
of hands, and yelling "Yee, Haw!".  And Slobbering! realized that the
banjo music references in the Informational Interruption were gone.  He
was left in an ugly world where Gigantic Dumpsters that wanted to eat
the hero for breakfast could also insult nose hairs while doing so.
None of this would have normally bothered Slobbering! though, except
that it was happening to him.

What could he do?  What could he do.


And Meanwhile in the Fabled Avalon of Grassroots' America (And
supposedly the rumored realm of Mainstream Man.. but you didn't hear it

Mom's getting the beanie weenie surprise out of the oven.  And Dad's
reading yet ruffling at the same time the Grassroots America Times while
occasionally taking the pipe out of his mouth to look profound.  The
dinner appears finger lickin' good, but don't you mistake these people
for barbarians though.  They're you're Average American Family.

What's that?  Is that Billy Smith, their young, adorable and spunk
entrenched tot coming through the door?  Oh oh!  Looks like Billy has
some mud on his shoes.  What's Mom going to say?  I know I Sure wouldn't
want to be in Billy's shoes!

Mom's shocked at first, but then she just shrugs, shakes her head and
smiles that Mom-Kinda smile (And probably cursing to her pantheon of
Household deities too.. but we can't show that kind of stuff).  The
beanie weenie surprise is on the table.  That was pretty damn lucky of
you, Billy.  You must have stain resistant carpet, huh?  Anyhow another
crisis, solved without the aid of high-exploding arsenal.

Sis has come back from some shopping.  Sis and Billy engage in some good
natured tom-foolery that ends when Mom says, "Let's settle down kids."
They are about to feast on the beanie weenie surprise.

The beanie weenie surprise waits.

Dad takes out his pipe.  He is still ruffling the paper.  Ruffling it
intellectually.  Only his hair, his hands, the newspaper, and the pipe
are seen.  They are all ruffling.  Dad says, "That sure smells good,

Mom sits down.  The Mom kind of smile resurfaces like an alien bent on
world genocide hatching out of an egg on her face.  She says, "I made
it especially for you Dear."

They feast.  Its seems so routine.  So dull.  But in the year 2023, they
will remember it fondly.  They will regret not having a Kodak Camera to
remember the moment.  Little do they know that Mom will become lured by
Yodeling Ventriloquism correspondent courses and will eventually leave
her family to pursue a decadent life as a drug addict, top of the charts
pop star plagued by millions of psychotic fans that look strangely
enough like Don Knotts.  Sis will die only to be brought back as five
different versions of Erik Estrada to boost sales.  Billy will have a
sex change operation so he can fulfill his life goal of becoming queen
of England.

And Dad finding his entire pipe ruffling life pulled from under him,
will become insane, buy a water pistol and attempt to take over the
world.  The LNH and various other teams of super heroes at that time of
course will try to stop him, and eventually do so by blowing him up
several times.  But when they find out that the only weapon he had was a
water gun, they will be brought under fire by groups that will try to
claim they used excessive force in apprehension.  Only with Lethal
Lawyer stepping in to tell the people to sue the Water Gun Manufactures
does the LNH survive from a sure blood curdling retirement.

And the beanie weenie surprise will rise from its lowly place on the
table to become the next avatar of wReam so it can bring order, chaos,
and parking validation to the Looniverse once again!!!!


But since it isn't the year 2023 yet, we can happily continue on with
the Average American Family's dinner.

Mom is right about now telling the washing machine anecdote.  It is
awashed in jocularity.  The beanie weenie surprise, like the sands in
the hourglass disappears.  Everything seems fine.  And that's when the
ruffling stops.  Dad is tense.  The only sound is that of a pipe hitting
the floor.  And finally he cries, "My God People!  Do You Realize that
the Use of Sentient Nose Hairs as a Deus ex Machina in the Popular
Entertainment Media Has Decreased Significantly Over the Past Century."

With that he picks up his pipe, the paper, and starts to ruffle both as
vigorously as before.  The dinner continues.  On the top of the house
the American flag waves.

And no one.  No one hears the beanie weenie surprise chuckle.  Or waves
back to the flag.  Or wonders what Gamer Boy would make of all this.


Dumpster-TRON was practically in tears.  There was a plot.. not much of
one but at least a while ago there was one.  Now there was just endless
subplots and infomercials.  This issue seemed to have no end.  Why
didn't the author finish the mindless fight scene.  The author must have
gone insane, was the only thought that came to Dumpster-TRON's mind.


Meanwhile in the Nostril..

For years the nose hairs were asleep.  Oh sure sometimes they would
think about getting out of the nostril for awhile and have some cheap
laughs.  In the end though, the nose hairs would usually figure what was
the bother and go back to sleep.  They weren't exactly the most
adventurous or optimistic bunch.  However, now they faced almost certain
horrible dangling death.

"I don't want to be painted like a happy cloud on this city."  said Sam.

Sam was a nose hair.  Ted hit Sam.  Ted also was a nose hair.  And I
guess its a damn good thing that this is a text adventure so that I
don't have to understand how they're hitting each other.

"Shutup.. <idiot>,"  Ted said to the hysterical Sam.  "We're looking
into the situation."

The nose hairs with grave faces were grouped together in position around
the nostril.  Only a few feet separated them from ultimate death by the
evil shiny teeth of Dumpster-TRON.

"Let's face facts.  The writer screwed us over.  Deus ex Machina.. Come
on!??  The man lost his mind back in Jong Pi.  My feeling is we high-
tail it out of here and see if we can get a job on "Writer's Block
Woman" or something elsewhere they have sane people writing the issues.
It's going to take a deus ex machine to pull this deus ex machina off!!"

At that statement they all seemed to be in agreement.  All that is
except one.  As nose hairs go this one had almost an essence of
grandfatherlyness, that would have probably been missed by anyone that
wasn't at least completely stoned.

While the rest congratulated themselves over there decision to join the
Writer's Block Woman cast, he (she?) coughed and then spoke.

"*Ahem*  I wonder."

The nose hairs stopped there jubilee.  Possibly expecting a rousing
chorus of "I wonder as I wander"?

"I wonder what the Nose Hair that thought it was Ben Kenobi would say if
it saw this sight.."

They looked at it.  They stared back at Dumpster-TRON and then back to
themselves.  If nose hairs had eyes you might have been able to see a
tear from a few.  Nose hairs don't really have a sense of humor.  Ted
finally broke the silence.

"Oh get real Pop.. that crap is a myth.. Everyone knows S'not Bright was
written to get Lyle Lovette into the White House.."

"Yeah I guess you're right Ted.  I mean what's it matter if we've been
living off the grue's rootbeer, living rent free in a grue's nostril.  I
mean it's him or us isn't it, even though he gave us a home to live in
for all of these years.  And when all of the cards are down, when we
could actually do something to repay him for this kindness, we sneak out
on him."

The grandfatherly one paused.

"Good to be the nose hair, eh?"

"Look.. if we could do something, you know we would.  But have you seen
the size of that monster.  We don't have any hope."

Sam piped in.  "We know the secret of the saliva verse.."

Ted hit Sam again.

"You know we can't share that.  It would.. upset the balance of the
Looniversal Scale.. and the stomachs of what ever audience we have

"Plus we can't be sure about the effects this power on the grue.  I mean
for all we know we could be opening up another Dark Phoenix rip-off."
Another nose hair stated.

"No.. I swear by the nose hairs that died in the bathroom sinks of all
dimensions that there won't be a Dark Slobbering Grue! Saga, even if I
have to strangle the author myself."

"I say we do it then.  I didn't feel like packing anyways."


"Very well, but only because I don't feel like packing either."

"Then let the ritual begin!  By the way does anyone have a flea spleen


Slobbering! knew there was no escape.  But like his ancestors before
him, he would die fighting.

"Are you sure you don't need a slave..?? I do windows.."

As I said before my computer was hijacked by a mad man.. he would die a
Whining craven coward.  Anyway before the jaws of death could take our
hero his faint caused his mind to slip into another dimension.  A
simpler dimension in a simpler time.  A dimension that you don't want me
to describe.. trust me on this one.

Slobbering! stared at the space surrounding him.  As he thought about
it, it slowly made sense to him.  He could feel the raw power with in
him.  And he had the ability to unleash it all.  He would become a king.
An emperor.  A god.  President of the Hair-Club for Men.  Maybe all of
the above.  Of course, if he didn't act quickly he would also become
grue stew.

He was back in the alley way.  It seemed as if he had been in that place
for ages.  Time didn't exist in that place.  Obviously time had half a
brain.  He stared at Dumpster-TRON who had been talking to his agent all
of this time.

His saliva glands appeared to crackle.

There was a small mutter from his lips.

"It's booka time."

Then there was a calm..


Miles up in the air inside a small plane...

"Hey, Joe.  Check out those weird clouds over Espanola."

"Clouds?  Those don't look like any clouds I've ever seen before."

And Joe was right.


{A scene so mind numbingly violent, disgusting, terribly written, most
likely to win an award for the most graphic display of disgusting
violence not seen in a piece of fanfiction, gut wrenching, banjo abuse,
G-R-O-S-S, cabbage patch doll slavery like, kitten juggling, evil
squared, paper cutting, and tasteless that I'd usually have no trouble
writing it, but I haven't been feeling well lately.  Maybe next issue.


Slobbering! observed the rubble that surrounded him.  Miles of
destruction.  He saw some of the media flee with their cameras.
Obviously just going to make a quick buck on the deaths and tragedies of
the victims between this war of humans and robots.

Slobbering cursed himself and wished he had thought of that too.


Dumpster-TRON groggily woke up.

"What the hell happened.."

Dumpster-TRON pressed his hands on the ground in an attempt to get up.
After a few seconds of failure he collapsed again.  He glanced at the
world around him.

"Must have.. crashed.. through buildings.. tons of 'em.."

Dumpster-TRON noticed that a film of some substance covered him.

Strange.  Possibly water?

Maybe back at Andale Atoll they told you, Dumpster-TRON.  And maybe you
were listening.

"Why.. am.. I here?  Last thing.. remember.  Talking to agent.  Nuclear

Maybe when Dave was going through last minute scene rehearsal he
mentioned a certain character.  And maybe you weren't playing pin the
tail on the squishy or making Acton Lord impressions with all of the
other RoboMACs and heard him talk about it.

"Couldn't have been blast though.  Sensors damaged.  What is this stuff
on me?"

Maybe Dave explained why this character wasn't exactly the most popular
character on alt.comics.lnh.  Maybe he talked about this character's
author.  An author that would have absolutely no problem with his
character defeating a RACelestial much less a powerful dumpster.  An,
author: that; has .no idea how-{to use punctuation:;

"This isn't water though.  Some strange liquid.. no.  No.  That short
green man in the boxers.  No can't be.  NO. NO!"

Then again..

"What kind of a comic is THIS!!!!??!?!!!"

...maybe it just completely slipped Dave's mind.

Dumpster-TRON broke from the ground.  His rocket jets enflamed the
surrounding air.  Dumpster-TRON headed straight for space.  Pain or no
pain anywhere was better than here.  Antichious had to be warned.  No.
Screw Antichious.  He had his own butt to save.  He wondered how many of
them lived on the planet.  Hundreds.  Thousands?  Who knows.  Maybe each
city had at least a few.  No, Antichious could have this hell if he
desired.  Dumpster-TRON would find and enslave a dimension without
things that.. Eww.. he couldn't even think of it.


Slobbering! couldn't find sign of Dumpster-TRON.  Completely drenched.
It looked like he won.  Again.  Again.  Again.

He wondered silently to himself how many times he could say the word
again over and over again.  But he knew he had pressed his luck the
first five times.  He looked at the citizens that were gathering
together their belongings from the rubble.  People without a home to go
to.  It looked like a good thing that Slobbering! had decided to fight
Dumpster-TRON away from his side of the city.

Neighboring Espanolers put inconvenience aside and helped their fellow
citizens.  Although as Slobbering noticed the fellow citizens didn't
seem to really want any help.  In fact a few of the citizens were
shaking their fists as the other Neighboring Espanolers drove very fast
away in their pick-up trucks.  In fact they seemed more like looters
than helpful Espanolers.  Anyway whoever these people were they seemed
to be handling the situation well.  Even volunteer looters were coming
in the scene.  If there was one thing that Espanola could be proud of,
it was the fact that they had the best damn looters in the Net.  Hmm
maybe he'd pitch in.  A VCR looked mighty good.  No.  There would be
other times for rioting and looting.

Driving in a hot wired.. err borrowed car to get to his apartment faster
so not to miss the Barney Fife marathon on TV, Slobbering! felt
something he hadn't felt in a long time.  He felt good.  As he looked at
the faces of the people, looters, arsonists, and other unsavory types he
knew he belonged here.  A few months ago, although it seemed for some
reason like a year and a half, he was the interloper.  Back then mimes,
carsalesmen, and lawyers infested the street.  Well, actually they still
did, but they infested a little more nervously than they did before.
And Slobbering! also had opened up more Espanolan jobs.  True, most of
these jobs involved repair, construction and police enforcement, but
they were jobs nevertheless.  And it felt good.  Hmm.  Or maybe it was
that cars interior seating that felt so good.  Hmm.  To bad he would
have ditch this vehicle before he got to the apartment.

For awhile at least he paced around that vitality hazard he called home,
trying to figure out a way to sneak inside without bothering Land Lady
(especially since he owed an insane amount of rent).  He reflected about
the incident earlier with the strange dimension.  Undoubtedly thinking
about the price that such power could cause for good or for ill of the
entire cosmos.

"Damn, wonder if I can use that trick to get babes.. Now how'd I do it

I meant "Undoubtedly thinking about the price that such power could
cause for good or for ill of the entire cosmos" in the reverse
psychological sense of course.

After awhile he heard the equivalent of a horse being chain sawed to
death.  Must be asleep, he thought.  He silently crept up stairs to his
room.  Yawning he was about to hit the mattress, when he discovered a

Wondering what it could be, he quickly tore into it.  Video cassettes
and a note?  The note said, "Just wanted to say thanks for everything
you've done for me."  Hmm, that was peculiar.  Slobbering! stared at the
videos he had before him.  He couldn't believe it.  The Bra That Said It
Was.  Handcuff High.  Bar Nuns.  He couldn't believe it.  Someone had
sent him three of the best porno flicks ever made.  Someone cared.  Who
could it be?  A secret admirer?  Ah, I'll find out in the morning, he
thought as he popped one in his VCR.  A bit of static.  FBI warning.  Ah
here it was.  MacLaughlin Man's Greatest Hits?  Hmm probably a
commercial, Slobbering! thought.  Too lazy to hit fast forward
Slobbering! continued to watch although he started to become worried
when it seemed to keep going on.  No nuns or bars had appeared.  Instead
Dr. Boring explained how a cucumber and our economic system were

"Topic for discussion:  Is the LNH responsible for the Looniverse's
spandex shortage!  What do *you* think Lethal Lawyer?"

"Well John, I think the key word here is shortage.."

"Wrong!  What to *you* think.. Dramatizer?"

"Well I think what Lethal Lawyer was.."

"Wrrrong!  What do *you* think.. Dr. Boring?"

"I,philosophize.. its.. and ..the,LNH,is.. and,anyways ..resembling,a..
and ..cucumb.."

"WrrrrONG!  What do *you* think.. Net.Star?"

"I can't really.."

"Wrro---NNG!  The right answer is of course, of course.  Split the word
Spandex and you get span and decks.  Decks are for cards.  Span is spam
spelled wrong.  Topic for discussion:  What number is Clinton Man
thinking of right at this minute!  What do *you* think Lethal Lawyer?"

"Umm John, are you all.."

"Wrong! Wrong! Wrong!  What do *you* think.. Dramatizer?"

The TV kept going.  Slobbering! had to hit stop or turn the TV off
before this intellectual discussing did him in.  Who could have sent
this?  Too weak.  His lower body had already numbed.  He stared at the
return address on the package.  Master Mime?  Net.Mexico Prison for the
Terminally Inane (No typo here folks)??  An old enemy from his first few
months here (Check out Jong #0:  The Early Beers.. when I get around to
writing it.. of course).  From now on, Slobbering! thought, it might be
best to check the return address before opening future mail.  That was
also about the same time Slobbering! collapsed.  MacLaughlin Man started
to do a weird little dance as he asked questions.  Eventually even
Slobbering!'s unconscious fell asleep.


There lies a citadel in the center of Espanola.  It is the tallest
building, and for a good reason to.  It is here that an iron fist holds
the Espanola citizens very existence in a tight grip.  Like a castle in
the feudal times, it is here where all of Espanola's political and
social decisions are made.  Big Breasted Women R Us?  Nope.  The local
Mafia joint?  Guess again.  Moono's Liquor World?  Close but no cigar.
The city council?  Now you're just being plain silly.  No, this place
has understood how to survive in the most bleakest times.  It is a
parasite that has been on Espanola so long that to even think about
removing it would cause horrible lasting scars (Or at least that's what
the parasite says in its brochures).  Yep, "What ever we damn well
please cuz we a monopoly" Unstable-Cable Hell-eVision (Any similarities
between this company and a certain blood sucking-baby eating-nun
juggling Springerville, Arizona TV cable company are purely coincidental
I assure you) sure had the right idea when they decided to make their
start here in the 50's.

The biggest reason this perpetrator of "TheAllThatIsNotRight" has gone
on for as long as it has with out notice is the simple fact that it has
constantly changed faces over the years.  Most evil corporations bent on
ruling the very atoms of their populace will usually attempt to be nice
and helpful because generally if they don't pretend to be nice and
helpful, the local welcoming committee will drag their blood soaked
walletless bodies out of town which generally isn't the best way to rule
the very atoms of any populace.  But the Cable Company, having no
intention of ruling the very atoms of any populace, runs secretly a
puppet Cable Company which actually believes it is truly the master.
When the people get mad enough to take action, The Cable Company throws
out the current occupants to the people for what ever punishments they
decide and digs out a new one.  And like the old one, the new one will
promise more channels and better service, but with a price increase with
it.  And the cycle goes on.

But what about the power?  I'll tell you about the power.  It sells only
one product and that product is channels.  It's a simple service.  No
one really needs it.  If you have front yard you can put in a satellite
dish.  If you live in an urban area, you can always put up an antenna.
Technical skill, you can pirate it.  News can always be retrieved other
ways.  It is for this reason that groups like the LNH, NTB, Order of St.
Doomas, and others don't really give The Cable Company the needed
attention.  It's not like crime, poverty, world destruction, or
misplaced posts.  The Cable Company is not a glamorous villain and
certainly not a villain that any sane or for that matter insane hero
would be caught dead going after.  The Cable Company realizes this.  And
because it is a monopoly it profits well from this.  And once you've got
the money, its only a simple bite to the whole enchilada

There will be people who will rebel at first.  But live long enough, and
eventually you can break down the spirits of even the strongest willed
couch potatoes.  Live long enough and they'll eventually just place
"good cable" along with other wishful thinking like "politician's that
put their job before getting re-elected", "an easy to open package that
is easy", "a day when woman can walk topless like there counterparts".
Not in that order of course.

Crisis after crisis it survives.  Each time growing stronger and
stronger.  It didn't sweat during mime turf wars.  It actually peaked
during the Plum Master's rampage.  It made due with the forty or so Pat
Robertson-religious channels available during Self-Righteous Preacher's
moralization of Espanola and made a killing afterwards charging a bare-
skin fee.  In a few minutes there will be another crisis which of course
the Cable Company will survive like always.  In fact it will probably
have no impact at least during the next few issues.  But unlike all of
the others, this one will start a chain of events which will change The
Cable Company forever.  The Big Forever.  I'm talking infinity on
steroids here.  Okay maybe not that long, but it won't be pretty I can
tell you that much.


There was a citadel in Espanola.  In one of its many windows a giganic
mechanical monstrosity hovered its eyes over the city.  A few minutes
ago it had been watching Espanola's local news and had witnessed
Dumpster-TRON's retreat.  Now it looked at the cityscape and spoke to

"I stand in an eye of a hurricane made of stupidity.  And I fear to
make any move out.  The events I have seen today are far worse than you
described them Comic Snob Boy in your letters, and it is probably just
as well that you didn't live to see this.. this JONG.  Fate had a hand
in bringing me here.  And now that I have observed, I understand why.
If it hadn't been for some Legion of Occult Heroes and a few other
titles I might have drowned in the bad jokes and puns.  I thought I had
danced with deus ex machina.  I was naive.  I thought I had calypsoed
with the cliche.  Such a fool.  The journey I took here was perilous.
Too many died so I could say these words."

"This Slobbering Grue! seems to defy characterization.  My first thought
was just to wipe this inanity right from the face of reality.  But then
I understood why fate led me and my small band here.  This will be our
first and greatest test.  If our band can turn this place from the
Ultra-violence, gratuitous bathroom-banjo humor, cliche filled series
into a literary masterpiece, then the rest shall fall too.  Your death
will not be in vain, I swear this Comic Snob Boy.  I swear it."

The mechanical megalomaniac cloaked in mysterious shadows (If nine out
of ten megalomaniacs prefer mysterious shadows.. what do they know that
you don't?) paused awhile, whether getting a breather in so he could
continue his long winded ranting or getting ready to break into a show
tune, we'll never know because at that moment his communication thingy
started to beep.


"The devices are in position and we've managed to manipulate the cable.
The only channels that will be available are the Beatnik Poetry Channel,
the Abstract Art Channel, and appropriate PBS shows.  You may push the
button anytime you're ready."

"Well done.  Very well done."

He turned his communicator off and sighed.

"You would have liked the reality I plan to make, Comic Snob Boy, I am
sure of that."

"I suppose I should get started.  Right, Comic Snob Boy?  I have a
Masterpiece to create after all."


Meanwhile on Earth One  (.. Prime?  Over World??  Whatever you kids call
it now days..)...

A man sits on a chair amid what appears to be ground zero of a bomb
explosion, typing on a computer.  The man seems to be struggling with
some dilemma.  And you know now that I think about it, all of this is
strangely familiar.  And the man typing on the computer, normally I
wouldn't comment on the appearance of some one of my same sex, but
damned if that isn't God's gift for women sitting right there.  And it
all seems strangely familiar.  Oh my..  oh my.. I can't believe it..
the guy on the computer.. why that's me.  Now this all makes sense.

"What the hell are you doing?"

I umm.. thought it might be funny if I fourth walled myself..

"Well it isn't.  You're making me sound like an egotistical ass."

I've come to realize that.  Look I've got to finish this issue, so could
you please cut it out with the cute remarks and help me?  I mean what is
it going to look like to our readers if I'm fighting with myself.

"Like you're crazy, which they already know, Arthur.  Damn, I just
called myself Arthur.  Weird.  I've always wanted to do that.  Arthur is
a kick ass name when you think."

Yes, I've always said that to myself.

"I know.  I'm you.  I know everything you think.  I know every move you
make.  I know where you live.  I'm your worse nightmare..."

Okay.  Okay.  This is getting too silly.  The Jong Company is becoming
impatient.  We've got to get ready for the events that will unfold in
Jong #6.  The.. the Big Events.  The Events that will change the
Looniverse for a good or for ill.

"You've haven't a clue of what's going to be happening in Jong #6?  Do

Before the Author of this story could answer that question though a blur
of light captured the man that was me.  The Meeting that would decide
the fate of Jong and the Slobbering Grue! had begun.


                       =                          =
                       = To be Continued.. Really.=
                       =                          =



Kid Recap is Joshua Geurink's (One of these days I'm going to have to
                                ask permission to kill him)

Elf is Wayne Parillo's (Assuming that Was Elf.. you never know it might
                         be just a cunning replica..)

Dumpster-TRON is Dave Van Domelen's (Although I'm sure he'll deny this)

Dramatizer, Net Star, MacLaughlin Man are wReam's

Lethal Lawyer is Mark Friedman's

MacLaughlin Man's Greastest Hits are by... <McLM - WRRRONG!!  What do
                                             *you* think Net.Star?>

The rest are sadly mine or public domain.


After reading this issue in its entirety many thoughts went through my
mind such as:  "My God!  Why won't this story stop!" "Nose Hairs!  Why
did it have to be nose hairs?"  "Maybe if I say this is some kind of new
wave prose or something someone will believe me?"  "I can't write, can
I??  I knew it.  I'm going to sell and cut bait in Montana."  "Someone
else wrote this.  Someone broke into my computer.  It all makes sense
now."  "Wait!!  If I squint and read it in a funny voice, it's almost

I really don't know what went wrong with this issue or why it took so
long to write.  I think it is best if I explained why I wrote this
issue.  You see about almost two years ago, Dave Van Domelen posted a
note asking for people to write in his Robot Invasion Crossover.  At the
time I looked at it as a curiosity and nodded my head saying, "Umm
yeah.. okay."  I really didn't have any intention of writing about
robots or transformers and the whole plotline seemed to serious.  And
anyways I was already involved in the ill-fated Omaha Project storyline.
Anyway sometime passes.  Dave starts posting his Robot Invasion issues
of Constellation as do others.  Some problems occur with continuity
because the Omaha Project and Robot Invasion are simultaneously running
at the same time.  In Constellation #23, Dave makes a joke about the
problems with crossovers with a sequence that has Sig.Lad trying to hold
everything together.  In the sequence Dave throws in a one-liner about
my character fighting a transforming dumpster.

At about that time I had just finished Jong Pi (I'm not positive).  I
was still thinking about actually writing number four and was running
through my mind about the stories afterwards.  I had intended to just
write a bunch of Spider-Man type story lines, where Slobbering fights a
weird supervillian in every issue.  But I couldn't really think of what
villains I would have Slobbering! fight and what villians I thought of
were really lame.  So as I'm reading Constellation #23 I'm thinking, hey
maybe I'll use this Robot Invasion thing to make myself some villians.
At the time it was just a thought I was playing around with.

I didn't really even seriously consider it until I was reading Martin's
LNH History, and it had me listed as a writer for Robot Invasion (which
I wasn't).  I didn't really want to complain, since I had already
complained about my name not being shown for writing the Omaha Project,
so I decided, "why not?"  By that time I had already created a bunch of
robotic villains, the problem though was that the dumpster wasn't one of
them.  I thought about just making a quick flashback reference, which
now that I think about it I kick myself for not doing exactly that.
Instead I chose to actually write the sequence where Slobbering! fights
the Dumpster.  I envisioned it as being maybe three or four paragraphs
long.  Some how though it got completely out of hand.

To start off, number five was intended to have more story than it does.
I had to cut it off at the point where it was becuase if I had decided
to write the complete story it would have made a Paul Hardy story look
small.  That means what was suppose to be in number five will now be in
6 to probably 8 at the most hopefully.  Hopefully those issues will be a
lot smaller.

Of all the stuff I've ever written, this issue probably was the one
where I said, 'This is my last issue' the most.  I also threatened to
kill Slobbering! many times during this issue.  In fact I have a
paragraph in which Dumpster-TRON eats Slobbering!  I edited it out
though becuase for some reason I just can't kill Slobbering!  As scary
as it seems, Slobbering! has grown on me (There is no pun there).  And
for that reason alone I've decided to fully tell Slobbering!'s story.

I can't make any claims about this story.  I hoped you liked it.  If you
didn't I hope you keep reading atleast to the next issue.  I promise
that next issue will be a damn good issue.  It will have Slobbering!
saving the Looniverse and battling his toughest foe yet.  It will have
two LNH sub-groups battling to the death (Well unless I don't get
permission that is).  It will have Elf (Unless I don't get Poet's
permission).  It will take care of a bunch of sub-plots (All right it
won't.. but I can dream can't I).  It will have Slobbering!'s origin.
And most importantly it will reveal what and who the Jong Company is and
what there plans are.  And maybe an appearance by Mr. Velk too.

Arthur "A long, long, time ago..." Spitzer

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