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Re: Truth in Lies 3: Hell comes to Pikestown


(pants began to fill? This is how rumors get started.)

AN EXCERPT FROM MIGUEL "MANNY" RODRINANCHEZDIO'S BLAIR WITCH MEXICO AUTOBIOGRAGPHY

I lay injured, near dying, as the Doctor Bloodsteve left our timeline. His instincts in doing this were good, for outside the honorables David and Derik had some kind of chico/chica moment together. I thanked the god Earth Hermano that I was away from this. As told from religious papers, EH only permits men to do man love with him and no other or that man's city would be painted with sewer-water and alligators(Bulletin 891, courtesy of [sign in to see URL]). So I could only smile for my bosses and cough for a while.

My rest did not last long, for soon the Army of the Red Cross came, claiming our land as their own to be given to the United States. As the white-clad soldiers raided our Turquoise Eutopia, we discovered something else: Derik and David were gone. Initially I thought they may have been eaten by something, but I had no time to finish the thought as my people and I were being taken away.

The White Ones clad our lands in plastic as they lead us away. Our lands quickly began to look like a plastic-wrapped chocolate chip cookie that was sitting on some table awaiting a powerful god to devour it. There were wails and sobbing as we were pushed towards a fleet of trucks. Some of my people tried to break away, but none were successful. The White Ones were fresh, having not fought in the battle earlier, and easily kept hold of my people. Peculiar, I thought, that these soldiers had been kept in reserve earlier.

Over the noise of my peoples' hearts breaking, I heard a voice: "Apple thief, you have cheated death once too much". I recoiled at the insult, but realized that the speaker was Hugo The Entertainer. Hugo was a friend that had entertained many a disquieted spirit with his horn playing. He had became a legend in this hell that is caught between broken Mexico and sinking Texas because he could blow like no other.

"Hugo, my friend" I croaked, "blow for me soon." He laughed at this despite being pulled towards the trucks by the White Ones. I smiled for my friend, but seeing him here I felt sorrow. The White Ones were strong and able, and their red cross insignia's were colored as blood. They were like new vampires that were too efficient to use black leather and face-paint. And they were ushering my poor friend to leave his property.

Likewise, Maria Lopax(sp?) was among us. She had been the janitorial engineer of the Okracobana, and was very talented in that role. Having heeded Derik's orders to watch David, I knew that David had shown chapters of several unpublished books to this woman. When David ordered me to watch himself for fear of Derik, I saw that Maria had thoughtfully considered the man's paranoid tales of green people and cartoon girls that were bent on controlling him.

I heard Maria talking to another camp employee. "They must be Brigade Del Illuminoceos for the clothes are so white and bright like highpriest. This is how they show purity amongst themselves and tambien the color helps blind people that watch plane hit building. The color look like white but it is called 'mysterious flash on underside of airplane'."

Several other Turqs heard the woman's babblings. A sense of panic began to course through my beleaguered comrades. Then we stopped moving towards the trucks. It was a standoff. The White Ones had equal numbers and were better armed, but I didn't like their chances. The soldiers held out their cattle-prods, ready for a fight.

As one of our chefs launched himself towards the White Ones, a triumphant yell could be heard. David was the yeller, but no one noticed the sound as carnage broke loose. My people fought the White Ones well. It appeared to be a stalemate, but just then someone looked up. Every head in the fray soon looked skyward to see--

--David peddling a bike through mid-air.

He coasted over us from many meters above, with legs pumping madly. Derik sat on the handlebars, wrapped in a blanket. Presumably the blanket was present to help his gunshot wound.

But in truth, he may have been nude under the blanket.

I cried.

As Dave and Derik disappeared over the distant treeline, everyone came to their senses. Fighting now seemed silly.

One of the Red Cross soldiers broke the silence: "everybody just get the hell out of here. Right now."

---
"Where life had no value, death sometimes had it's price. That is why the bounty killers appeared."
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Re: Truth in Lies 3: Hell comes to Pikestown


Derrik’s powers amazed me, even at this time, as he was close to death. He used all his power to lift both me and him into the sky, way above the camp. But I knew this would have consequences later. He barely used telekinesis as it drained his psychic energies, for which he relies on so much to make a living.

--Log in or sign up to see linked image content--

The last time he did something like this he couldn’t gain contact to the ‘other side’ for 9 months, then resorted to selling himself on premium-rate psychic hotlines. Some were the standard ones with “Would you like to speak to a dead friend?” on, whereas others were steamier with “Hot, Sexy man-to-man psychic action!” written on them. He’d sit down in drunken stupor and speak of lies, while men of all ages wanked themselves off. EWWW!

--Log in or sign up to see linked image content--

Derrik was desperate though, he had a problem at the time, which was a dark despair from not being capable to harness his superhuman powers. He then began to shooting up brown, also known as Heroin. It was an addiction which he had for months. During these months it was downhill too, for the “Most Spooky” show. With Derrik not relying on his real spirit guide, one of the shows parapsychologists tricked him, but DerrIk would not know until later. A paparazzi frenzy followed with Derrik being hounded everywhere he went. The story of how he faked a possession of a 9/11 hijacker was nothing compared to the pictures that were spread across all the papers of Britain and worldwide on the 3rd of November, 2003. Derrik was photographed in a shocking series of pictures that would bring his TV career tumbling down. Firstly, he was pictured doing naked lap dances for parliamentarians and Senators in a Soho brothel , then he was captured shooting up heroin in a rubbish laden alleyway, slumped face-down in a drain, looking more like a tramp than the polished man from TV’s Most Spooky. Most Spooky was axed and Derrik was down-an-out, a bum.
Derrik was my friend, so I helped him. He cleaned up his act and began to follow me around. Together, we were a unit, a two man army fighting for the truth.

“Arghhh…please, kill me.” Derrik muttered as we flew high on the bike above the camp.
“No! I won’t give up on you Derrik…to far together Derrik, we’re like brothers. Don’t you give up, you stupid arsewipe.” I was angry, and he was losing the will to live

The bike then began to drop and I bailed out before it hit the ground. Derrik stayed where he was, the force of his body pelting the dusty ground creating a murky cloud in the dark. He was weak, I was strong.

I picked him up and carried him. The hospital wasn’t far.

As we got to the hospital there was a crowd gathering, and the news people were there too. No doubt this had something to do with the camp. Then I saw more of the soccer moms and the out of work students with their signs.

‘Genocide? Yes, it was. The Government like to kill people too, as well animals!’ one said, referring to the massacre the day before.

When they saw me with Derrik over my shoulder they reacted badly. Spitting and cursing us, but keeping the peace thankfully. Or so I thought. I hurried through the slide-doors of the hospital and one ran up behind us and through a petrol bomb. It erupted on contact with an elderly Mexican woman who was sitting in a chair in the waiting room, missing both me and Derrik by inches. Panic erupted inside and people began to flee, running and screaming.

At the help desk, away from the madness in the waiting room I requested help for my ailing friend. “Please, he’s been shot. Terrorists came and shot him up good, please get a doctor right away.” The lady at the help desk replied in broken English, “No-anglais sir, err…wait one moment”.

She hurried away, coming back several moments later with a familiar face.

“This is our anglais speaking doctor. Dr. Bloodsteve, PHD.” And there he was, looking much older than the Steve who vanished earlier but Steve all the same, minus his remaining hair and more wrinkles.

“Steve!” I shouted out loudly. “What happened? Did the reptilians drain you of your life source, making you age rapidly?”

“No, no….Oh my, look at Derrik. What happened to him first?” He replied with haste.
“Shot! Shot! Shot! By Terrorists who were after the plutonium you stole.” Derrik said whimpering and in pain.

We both carried Derrik to an emergency room. Laid out on hospital bed, Derrik was given some morphine to numb the pain. Then Uwe/Steve/Bloodsteve began to explain where he’d been as he removed the bullets from Derrik’s gut and shoulder.

“I’ve been everywhere…I have a time-machine, I can go anywhere – future or past! I’ve seen every major moment in history, from the birth of Christ to the rise of Adolf Hitler, to events in the future like the tyrannical dictatorship of US president Rick Moranis! Amazing! Along the way I way I have also boost my persona, and the name Uwe Boll…Steven Spielberg, Alfred Hitchcock, Orson Welles…I went back and made sure they are not so great now, yah?”

--Log in or sign up to see linked image content--

Who are they I wondered, and what other changes in history had Uwe made.

“There are many things I have done, but mostly my plans falter. In 2012 for example, I was arrested by Rick Moranis’ secret police and jailed. It’s a nasty time, hmmm…Rick is more evil than Hitler, I thinks. ” he continued. “Like I said, plans falter…the butterfly effect, yah.
“How?” I questioned.
“It’s complex….you can’t stop wars, disasters, because from those terrible moments in history many people make love and have babies, yah. If I stopped WW1, or WW2, there’s a chance that the planet would be overpopulated or I didn’t exists, yah?…paradoxes, damn confusing stuff.”

Dr. Bloodsteve then continued to tell of the changes he had made to history.


---
"We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives." - Tyler Durden, Fight Club
2/5/2006, 8:27 pm Link to this post Send Email to knights   Send PM to knights
 
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Re: Truth in Lies 3: Hell comes to Pikestown


Oh dear, I thought. What more damage had Bloodsteve done?

"Ja, so I didn't change the big wars" said Bloodsteve. "But I did change the result of some of them. I guess it doesn't matter much. Switzerland won Super Action World War 23 Featuring International Swimsuit Model Stevette Bole, and, of course, I helped in only a small way. You will need German passports to go home now. Don't forget. And the United States are in Asia now. I don't remember how that happened, though, so don't ask."

"Sh*t" I said.

Bloodsteve continued, ever the professional: "You're ready to get out of here, Mister Okra. Don't forget to stop by the hospital's chapel to give your thrice-daily praise to Orson Bole's classic film I Spit On Your Last Citizen Kane On The Left. We can't let you leave without it."

"Will do" said Dave and we were on our way.

First things first: "Davey, what about the nuclear holocaust?"

"He changed things" he continued, "so maybe there will be no holocaust."

"Rick Moranis will become president of the US" I said.

"I should've expected that" Dave said.

"[sign in to see URL] has done something bad to this time" I said.

Soon enough, we were there, at the chapel. Having seen guards posted all over the hospital's halls, we knew we should follow what the Doc said were rules. We would tell Orson Bole's film that we liked it, that it moved us, and perhaps that it changed our perspective. Maybe it had done just that.

Inside the chapel there was a monitor that displayed a revolting peice of slow motion footage of Charlton Heston in the classic film, House Of The Apes. Heston was at his prime when the film was made, and it shown as he sacked the ape army with kung fu. I stared at the crazy footage, and felt the world spin beneath my feet.

Then I realized something: the actor in the footage wasn't Heston. It was Prochnow, but it was Heston's voice dubbed over for the American audience. A crude splash screen appeared, relevant for an old action film, advertising Der Zombieplanet, a then new film by Alfred Hitbowl. I found this revolting, and all in terrible taste.

With the mandatory film worship out of the way, Dave and I escaped the time-perverted hospital. There was only one place to go where we would know the way, the meaning. Piketown, Las Okra, The Turquoise City, Village of the Terminally Paranoid. But once there, we discovered that the camp had been covered in plastic. In fact, the place was swarming with Red Cross militiamen that were busy, like ants, destroying our camp.

Dave and I didn't like this one bit. My friend couldn't watch for more than a second before he ran over to the soldiers and pleaded with them to stop. I didn't join him, because I had heard the stories about the Red Cross Army.

"D*mn you all to hell" said Dave. "YOU BLEW IT UP!"

I guessed that we would be needing Bloodsteve's car.

---
"Where life had no value, death sometimes had it's price. That is why the bounty killers appeared."
2/10/2006, 6:15 am Link to this post Send Email to abaddon1215   Send PM to abaddon1215 MSN Yahoo Blog
 
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Re: Truth in Lies 3: Hell comes to Pikestown


Part 1of2

“Sad isn’t it?” came a voice from behind us. It was BloodSteve. “I can change this for you – we can change this. My car is just here.”

He stood, leaning on air, or so it seemed.

“Yah like my car boys?” he asked.
“What car?” I replied.
“This car…fitted with a invisibility cloak, standard 2076. It flies too.”

In Steve’s right hand there was some kind of device that could communicate with the car, he pressed a button and the car appeared. He had a smug grin on his face, and we both stood open mouthed by what the future holds.

“Jump in!” He bellowed. We moved closer to the vehicle which’s only resemblance to the sports car from the other day was its shape. It was decorated with years of time, the past and the future.

“Jump in, I say!” cried Steve.
“Okay, you filth.” Derrik mumbled.

We climbed in, hesitant at first but settled as we got in our places. Steve sat in the driver’s seats, and I on the other, with Derrik cramped in the middle.

“It’s important that we do not disturb the time continuum, one word from you to your future selves will change history, but could cause the most drastic of all reactions, meaning that the universe will most likely sucks itself in – basically eat itself and implode. That would mean no time, no you, no me, no time-machines, and no chances to correct the errors. We will go back one week from today. That should be safe. We will arrive at this exact location, so we won’t even move one millimetre. No 88mph’s here boys.” Explained Steve as he twisted knobs and turned on buttons for our voyage.

“Are we going yet? You filth.” Said Derrik.
“Done. That’s it!” Replied Steve
“What do mean?” I shouted aloud.
“We have travelled through time!” he shrieked.

Through the windscreen we saw the camp as it was. The buildings were still there, and the loyal turq-shirts were too. We were amazed and slumped back, hiding our heads from the view of any faces from the past. To my amazement Connor was there. He danced as the sunset came up at morn, his figure and movements a joy to watch. His testicles flowed freely, hanging beneath his turquoise loin cloth. The turq-shirts just sat back on benches eating breakfast, studying who they saw as a mad man. I was there too, as was Steve and Derrik.

Steve delved into his jacket pocket as we looked into the past, something he’d done too much of. He pulled out a huge brick phone from the 1980’s which had been modified to his time-travelling standards.

“Right!” he exclaimed. “We don’t get out, we stay put. My plan will work as thus. I call my friend at the White House and he turns on the fan again, causing a disaster, which should divert attention from the Red Cross here later next week. The disaster will be so big that they’ll have there hands full, and the only people able to attend to the needs of the camp are the army, who’ll kill all the PETA activists who’ll be blamed for the destruction of the camp.”

“What’s this fan exactly?” I asked inquisitively.
“Remember the hurricanes of 2005; they were the actions not of nature, but man! My friend he doesn’t like people of colour, so to tackle the problem devised the idea of ‘The Fan’ while drying his hair. The pressure caused by the fan pushes the water up and floods occur, leaving the problem people screwed. Their homes are destroyed and they are forced to move away, so George’s buddies can construct huge shopping malls and casinos for rich white folks. Much conspiracy theorists of this time were dead-right about the causes of such disasters, back in 2005 and the future, but the idea was so laughable many became alienated by other conspiracy theorists and either fell into mental institutions or committed suicide.” Steve stopped talking as the brick device began to respond to he outgoing call. The Device morphed from a normal looking telephone into the little head of the person Steve was calling.

“Who’s that?” Yapped the little head, slack-jawed and looking dumb.
“It’s me, George. Yah know ‘Da’ Bollster!’” responded Uwe jokingly. “I need ‘The Fan’ immediately turned on; I have friends that need help desperately”
“I don’t know,” replied the head in Steve’s hands, “That’s [sign in to see URL], recession expensive. It could drop my popularity rating more so. Plus the invasion of Iran could be halted by months”
“Okay, don’t bother, but your little secret will be exposed. Sessions of cross-dressing exposed in the press, with pictures supplied by an inside source – me.”
The little head looked worried. Steve’s blackmail was paying off.
“Okay…very well.”. The panicking little head yelled back. Steve then hung up. The phone then remorphed from the head to the brick from the 80’s.

“Why do you associate yourself with such evil” Derrik asked.
“George isn’t evil,” Steve insisted, “Just a bit feeble minded. Easy to control, yah know – like the turq-shirts. He’s a real nice guy though…if you ever meet him you’ll agree…”
“Oh…ok” Derrik replied.

“Well, that’s it. The heat should be off you, from the Red Cross at least.” Steve said, now facing us, holding yet another weird device from the future.

“What’s that?” asked Derrik, referring to the device.
“Oh this, er…move closer…” Steve then put the device right up close to Derrik face. Derrik slumped down, knocked out by the device as it flashed in his eyes, and I got worried real quick. I opened the car door on my side and made a run for it, but stopped only a few metres away from the car. Steve leant over Derrik’s limp body and faced me.

He was angry. “Get back in the car you fool. This is necessary, Derrik must not know about his own destiny. You on the other hand need a trip to the future – 2012 to be precise, where one man who gulped down all your rhetoric and metaphorical hogwash without rationality turned against his own people. He has turned this country into a police state, abiding by your rules of how people should act. Your philosophy has put the fate of many at risk, including conspiracy theorists like yourself.”

“That’s impossible!” I shouted back. “My way is THE way. If everyone followed my ideas the world would be a much safer place.”

---
"We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives." - Tyler Durden, Fight Club
2/12/2006, 6:24 pm Link to this post Send Email to knights   Send PM to knights
 
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Re: Truth in Lies 3: Hell comes to Pikestown


Part 2of2

--Log in or sign up to see linked image content--

“You’re wrong!” Steve asserted. “You’re wrong, so wrong. You just don’t realise” Steve then pulled out several scraps of newspaper from the future. They were a shock to say the least. Had I and my books really caused all this? I was dumbfounded and speechless.

--Log in or sign up to see linked image content--

Still leaning on Derrik’s body, Steve held up the scraps of newspaper indicating with his finger the actions of my own being would cause. “See that..” Steve wailed, nearly in tears, pointing at a front page of newspaper with President Moranis’ face on. “He’s the leader,” Steve continued, “He butchers children because they don’t follow the ideology which you unknowingly formed. One of evil. You don’t know it but your !@#$ crazy, and crazy people like you don’t realise it. You, Dave – my case in point!”

--Log in or sign up to see linked image content--

“Me, crazy!” I proclaimed. “What a joke. Never! I mean, I did here voices once, and felt a presence around me but the psychic told me that this was a friend from a distant extension of reality.”
“Just get back in the car; you must see what you have done, your actions and words.” Steve said softly. “And see this...” Steve had saved the worst scrap of newspaper till last. The paper, called ‘The Truth Speaker’ reported of my murder by a brainwashed lunatic at a book signing. “Oh my” I responded at seeing the newspaper.
 I sat back in the car, shifting Derrik into the back seat, next to Steve’s portrait by Leonardo Da Vinci and array of sex toys from the future for the single man.
“I must teach you,” Steve scorned back at me, preparing for a jump into the future while pressing knobs and turning buttons. “I will take you to November 15th 2012, a day after you were murdered by Moranis’ drone. We will meet up will the Derrik from the future who himself is at great risk from the men, you and him placed into power.”
“Sorry!” I cut in. “I put into power? These are Rupulicans, Steve! I don’t even do politics, dammit!”
“Yes, you put these people in power” Steve explained. “After the Tranny-Gate scandal, your paper did a satirical cartoon of Bush in a dress. It all got out of hand and the real republicans went out in protest, including bush, who denied the cross dressing incident ever happened. After they burned American flags in Times square, all members were arrested for treason, including Bush, who was then beheaded by the ‘New Republican Party’, an interim government that you, Derrik and Rick Moranis set-up. For a short time, Derrik, although British became president, but after he had a fling with Tom Cruises’ male lover there was a conspiracy which led to Rick, a long-time fan of yours becoming president. You and Derrik were both exiled, while Moranis preached “I am me, I am free” to the American people. When you returned from exile, you continued working on The Truth Speaker, and at seeing the mass destruction and tyranny Moranis’ leadership had caused ‘Spoke of the truth’ as you saw the hell that had become America. Where secret police roam the streets and anyone who disagrees with Moranis’ politics is murdered. Like you. You were killed off because you disagreed with your own philosophy which Moranis used against the people to control them into unwarranted paranoia and madness.”

Flabbergasted by my own madness, which led to what I never wanted I got back in the car, sat back and began to cry. A moment later we were in the future and I hoisted myself up to see what darkness my words and actions had helped create.
“Holy crap!” I barked out, seeing actual darkness. It was night, pitch black.
“It’s the middle of the night, Dave, be quiet!” Steve whispered back. “This is a dangerous place. Moranis’ secret police patrol these areas regularly. We’re in Washington, Moranis’powerbase.”
 “But how..?” I murmured back.
“This is reality, Dave. I can go anywhere I like. And if my calculations are correct, Derrik should be nearby.”

When I got out I realised where we were. It was a graveyard, a large one too. And creepy considering the pitch black darkness. We pushed the car into a wooded area and put our Derrik in the boot. We then made our way out into the graveyard in search of Derrik from the future. Just ahead of us through a hundred or so tombstones there was a man knelt down at a grave with a bright torch, moaning and wiping away the tears from his eyes. He cried out my name. This is when I realised who it was.

“Derrik! Derrik! Derrik!” I shouted back.
He looked around, spooked by voice. Maybe I was a spirit he must’ve thought, calling out from heaven to deliver good news. As we got closer to the man, he stood up, stiff.
“Dave? Is that you?” he wailed back. He then pointed the torch at the grave (‘Dave Pike 1957-2012’ etched into the gravestone’) as we got up close to him, unsure of what was happening.

Before I could say anything else, the sound of many a heavy boots in contact with concrete began to fill the air, getting closer.

“Quick, come with me! We must get outta here, the turquoise [sign in to see URL]!” Steve roared. We then headed out of the graveyard and out onto the streets. Derrik followed. What would the future hold out on the streets I thought?


Last edited by knights, 2/12/2006, 6:27 pm


---
"We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives." - Tyler Durden, Fight Club
2/12/2006, 6:26 pm Link to this post Send Email to knights   Send PM to knights
 
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Re: Truth in Lies 3: Hell comes to Pikestown


An excerpt from a communication cached by [sign in to see URL]'sBoardGames/PersonalMilitaryRecords

I had been overcome by grief at the grave of my friend, Dave. Then Dave magically appeared with another man who looked like a gent that had once offered me the legendary Nazi crane. Bloodsteve Rock Your Face was that man's name, but I did not recall he and Dave being such good friends.

Then we were running from the Turquoise Army. They dress in the color turquoise because the government decreed it. The color provoked trust and made the soldiers seem inobtrusive. Such ability was needed during the nation's second occupation of MacCanada New With Wireless Enabled Soft Drinks. Unfortunately, the soldiers had lost the official code of conduct, and after UN Royal Decree 280671-8a, they were allowed to break furniture, ravish womankind, and snort drugs in the course of executing commands.

Unlike my friends, I knew that we had not far to run before the soldiers would stop in exhaustion. Persistent alcohol use, drug abuse, poor diet and constant weightlifting had rendered the modern soldier an expensive, blood-thirsty paperweight that slowly starved the Moranis Economy Of National Stability.

Unfortunately, the soldiers were well-armed with the latest, cheapest to mass-produce armaments. Which meant that we would be shot by Leprechaun bullets. These were something that Dave and Bloodsteve RYF had yet to face. Their minds would snap if such carnage were unleashed, for the Leprechaun bullets were tiny but terrible rounds. Rumors had crossed the globe about single green bullets that had destroyed entire Russian cities.

The carnage would wait for another day, though, as Dave, Bloodsteve, myself, and myself ducked into what looked like the rear door of a thrift store. Our eyes had not adjust to the gloom, nor had our noses become accustomed to the stink of rotting upholstery when--

"WHOA WHOA WHOA" said Samuel L. Jackson.

It was Sam alright, but time had taken a few cheap shots at his person. He was one of the hundreds of millions of Vulnerables, which were standard citizens that were vulnerable to terrorist attack. Thusly, he ate only government rations of CowFeedMach4, with the occasional supplement of MacGoatBurger or SoylentCadaver Protein Drinks. Water here was not scarce, but it was well known to be polluted by all manner of discarded home electronic items and improperly buried animal remains. His only entertainment, the Home Information Gatherer By MSWeControlYourLifeWhileYouDoNothing was also his only reason to live, besides sex.

How had the great entertainer become a Vulnerable, when he was once so respected? During his career he had garnered great critical accolades for his acting career, with performances in Triple X, Star Wars Episode 1, Formula 51, and National Lampoon's Loaded Weapon.

"Mister Jackson" said Bloodsteve, "it is a great honor to meet you, sir."

"Yeah" continued Sam Jackson, "I thought that was you. House Of The Moron. And I know your friends, too. I want to tell you something-" He picked up a shotgun from the carcass of one of several dozen abandoned television sets that were nestled amongst other secondhand fare. "-that is, before I turn you over to the Turquoise Army for liquor money. That cloning sh*t never happened. The Samuel Jackson that you two saw in the woods was actually a digital replica made by Institutional Laxatives and Machineguns. I'm sure you two knew at the time that cloning was out of the reach of our science. The replica wasn't perfect, thanks to proprietary CGI technology, but it was enough to fool you. It was so good that you never noticed that it wasn't a replica of ME at all. It was actually Mace Windu, the character for which I won an Oscarbowl thanks to my portrayal in Star Wars Episode 17: Exit Sandman To Stage Right."

---
Whoa. I know kung fu.
2/22/2006, 6:05 am Link to this post Send Email to FakeMorris3d   Send PM to FakeMorris3d
 
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Re: Truth in Lies 3: Hell comes to Pikestown


PART 1 OF 2

Shiner based on..[sign in to see URL]
Cones based on..[sign in to see URL](journalist)


Moranis state internment camp for political prisoners

Sam Jackson had screwed us over once again. From the thrift store to an interment camp, this was our situation, one of unknowing dread of what was to come. How we got there was a mystery – some coma-inducing weapon from the future perhaps? I didn’t know. What I did know was that my own dream for my future self was turning in my own nightmare for the now me from 2006, now in my future self’s future, who was dead.
All I can remember was the train pulling into the camp and the haste in which we were made to get off the train by the turquoise camp police. After that we stood in a line with about fifty other people and the selection process began. A short man wearing a turquoise doctor’s outfit examined each of us and took notes on his clipboard. After he’d finished he’d either point one way or another. One man protested and began shouting at the little man, “How dare you! What reasons have you got me here now? A reptile perhaps, is that it?”. The little man just stood staring blankly at the protesting prisoner, staying unnerved. Then the prisoner continued on his rant at the short doctor, “Seriously, I have done nothing – not a thing- but your stupid state and the doctrine means I am threat. Is that right, you little sh—“. Before the protesting man could finish his speech, the little doctor held up his hand and made the man pause. The doctor then turned to one of the turquoise guards who stood right next to me and whispered something which I heard. “Make him into lampshade, wolfgang. Once you’re done, place it in the lobby of the turquoise church.” The guard then dragged the protesting man away into the direction in which all the unhealthy and old people went.
Moments later when the doctor saw me, his jaw dropped, as though he’d seen a ghost. But this was my future self’s dream in fruition, I had wanted this, a nationalised state and one where enemies were thrown into interment camps. And of course, a state with a new religion based on my works. Although my future self had come to the realisation that the turquoise state was wrong, he couldn’t stop it and it outgrew him. To the followers of the turquoise state he was a Jesus-type figure, and even he was murdered by his own ideology for denouncing it the rules and laws he put in place were still abided by every follower and he was still praised like a messiah.
The little doctor couldn’t believe his eyes, was it really the god-like figure he’d heard about and praised so much? Well, yes it was, but not his one.
“Tell me, what is your name?” asked the now blushing doctor.
“My name Uri Satzler, from the forbidden state as your lord David Pike calls it. I am a high-order reptilian, originally from the planet Zantoz.”
After those words spoken by me the rest was a blur, apparently the little man got angry because he couldn’t believe that someone of the forbidden race looked like his Jesus, Dave Pike. I received a blow to the head and was knocked out cold.
We I awoke, I was in a cell and all I could here were the mad screeching of an evangelist Christian woman.
“If I had my way, all other conspiracy theorists would get sent away to camps.” – Dave Pike, 1999 – The freedom lectures
This was weird, or beyond weird. It was half and half. Cramped into the little cell were conspiracy theorists and those accused of treachery, labelled reptilians by the state. There were about ten of us in the cell, half must’ve been conspiracy theorists and psychics outlawed by the state and the others accused of being reptilians.
“Jesus told me of the mars lucifer bases, reptilians and the bible code, he told me. He said Miss Sherry Shiner, I choose you. You’re my voice until I return! He said, Miss Shiner your will is great, but you must be the voice, my voice. Expose the omegans and the filthy jews who murdered me! Do your pure race proud! He also said, I must use photoshop and use the filters to find the truth. And yah know what? I did. And then I saw the skin scales of the reptilians. Then he said, use that reverse speech software to find their hidden evil. And yah know?” She drawled.
“What!” I replied. “What’d he say? What happened?”
“I found the hidden messages.”
“Huh?” I replied bemused. “What’d they say then, these messages?”
“Erm…er….[sign in to see URL]…[sign in to see URL] – stuff like that really.” She asserted.
She gave a cold look back at me, pointed her finger at me like a nutter, shut up and sat back down on between two gentlemen with “REPTILE #Moranis State interment camp” tattooed on their foreheads. It was them I turned back to see Derrek who’d now awoken from what may have been a beating by the guards earlier. And like the two gentlemen either side of Miss Shiner, he too had the reptile ID tattoo on his forehead. Then I lifted my hand and felt for mine, but it wasn’t there. This was strange. I needed an explanation, so turned to a guy who was crouched down on the floor weeping. Just hoping that no one in here would see my resemblance to the much fatter future self I put on a pair of shades which were lying in front of me on the floor, which seemed handy.


Last edited by knights, 4/1/2006, 4:20 pm


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"We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives." - Tyler Durden, Fight Club
4/1/2006, 4:09 pm Link to this post Send Email to knights   Send PM to knights
 
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Re: Truth in Lies 3: Hell comes to Pikestown


PART 2 OF 2
The man lying on the floor got up as I tapped him on the shoulder and faced everyone in the cell, it was at that moment with the light on his face from a barred window in the cell that I could see that it was another conspiracy theorist, it was Alex Cones, the rhetorical monster who even put me to shame in the past with his what some called ‘The robot mouth’.
“The new world order is out for you mind, sir.” Declared the enraged Mr Jones. “They have locked you in here because they want your mind, they want your votes. Those bastards will use this place to brainwash you sir, and they’ve done it before. I’ve spoken to many people, escapees from places like this. They tell me horrific and disturbing tales of high-order illuminati members coming in and making everyone of the poor souls suffer. We’ll be next, we’ll be next – mark my words, were doomed! The new world order has taken our rights, burned our freedoms! Mr Pike told us this was all ‘how it wasn’t to be’ but he was the one who created it, only to be murdered by his laws! Mr Moranis, or MORE-ANUS as we like to call him told us to keep in order, then released this police state. 10-million Turquoise soldiers ravaging foreign countries, butchering babies and all for the sake of Pike’s freedom act, plus his and Okra’s silly racial purity doctrine. More-anus is a bastard, a New world order, freemasonic, bohemian grove, druid, Satanist, communist, anti-christ!”
When the robot-like man had stopped yapping I got a word into him. “Sir, I mean, Alex, Mr Cones.”
“Yes” Alex responded.
“Why am I the only one other than you, Sherry, her and him over there without the ID tattoo on my head?” I asked.
“You know what?”
“Yeah, what?”
“Charlie Sheen asked that same question.”
“And….”
“Well, I’m just saying- Charlie Sheen asked the same damn question”
“And……”
“And he has courage, just like you. He was a fine man and a great actor but his quest for the truth only lead to his death at the hands of that demon of the neo-rupublican party, Mr Okra – He still works for them, I know! I have inside sources and Hollywood connections and friends within the underground LDP (LibertarianDoucheParty).”
“But,” I tried to cut in.
“But nothing, we’re doomed. I wouldn’t be surprised if Moranis or Okra kills us themselves, either one of them may be close by right at this very moment. They don’t like us truth seekers much you see; they can’t handle cold hard facts. That’s why they killed Charlie, he helped us too much with the 9/11 truth movement. He went on TV and said something along the lines of, ‘the planes must have been Fuhrer Pike’s’ and exposed how Dave Pike had been seen in the building the day before. He also told of his eye-witness account of when he saw Pike push down on the levers to what he believes was the trigger for the controlled demolition of WTC7. Charlie was a great and courageous man.”
“That’s BS” I replied, attempting to defend the very false accusations. “Mr Pike couldn’t have done it, he was at the CONSPIRACYFEST2001! And then he wrote the book which exposed the truth about the attacks called ‘Super Mario, Sonic the Hedgehog and the WTC disaster’, in which he alleges that the makers of Sonic funded the attack so that the after affects would slump sales of ‘Daisy’s magic gumshoe’ for the N64. He has the facts, Mr Jones.”
“Oh shut up, listen to yourself man – you believe that?” retorted an uptight Alex Jones “Dave Pike carried out the attacks to continue the way for his totalitarian state some years later, and I might add he used the attacks to sell his books. He was seen on the day of the attacks. END of, idiot.”
  Suddenly, Alex Jones stopped, and turned towards Derrek who’d only moments ago got up and had now removed his sunglasses, which I then realised I’d picked up. Derrek from this time’s cover had now been blown.
“It’s him, the Dr Death! The mad un-holy psychic! The demon of the Neo-Rupublicans!”
Sherry got up, the ones labelled reptilians got up, and the only person who didn’t get up was Dr Bloodsteve – He’d vanished – Maybe he was dead? Maybe the short doctor was using him as a lampshade?
Alex continued, “Aha, Dr Death, the Pike doctrine, burning our freedoms, hey! We don’t like your types in here. We don’t like you free burners. What should we do to him people?”
“Clown’s pocket,” shouted Sherry “Let’s give him am arse like a clown’s pocket.”
Derrek slipped back on the bench, feeling the need to escape but knowing he couldn’t as he was locked in with these mad, mad, mad people - I could see he was petrified, these people were very demented.
Before I could defend my friend and all the good he’d been doing to stop Moranis’ evil reign they’d already bent him over and while Derrek cried in agony, Mr Jones was laughing as all eight including him took turns at making Derrek’s arse like a clown’s pocket. I turned away, not knowing what to do. A tear fell from eye.

…..Then a figure of man emerged outside the cell.


Last edited by knights, 4/1/2006, 4:22 pm


---
"We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives." - Tyler Durden, Fight Club
4/1/2006, 4:10 pm Link to this post Send Email to knights   Send PM to knights
 
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Re: Truth in Lies 3: Hell comes to Pikestown


--Quick post, but TIL3 is now coming to an end. Your post will be the Last is this 'series'. enjoy.

As Derek screamed and the whakos and the alleged reptilians made his arse into the clown’s pocket the figure outside the cell emerged and the light enveloped his face from an open window on his side of the bars. When the bastards that were raping Derrek turned to see who it was, they paused and Derek was spared of more agony. The man was Rick Moranis, star of ‘Honey I shrunk the kids’ fame.
‘Alive, how could these be’ he screamed, turning towards two turquoise soldiers standing at his sides. ‘I gave orders and you two failed. For this there is only one punishment.’
‘But president.. .’ the soldier on Moranis’ right side cried back.
‘But what?’ croaked Moranis.
‘We killed him sir, he died.’
‘It’s true’ piped the soldier to his left, ‘He was gassed to death, just as you asked president! Gassed on the farts of the old, the disabled and infirm. He dropped like a fly. We saw it, so this man cannot be him.’
Moranis turned his back on me and faced both of the soldiers. ‘Then why is it that I see him before me. You cannot tell me this is not Dave Pike, leader and traitor of our plan!? The man who put forward the ancient doctrine for racial purity?! My instincts tell me you are both lying and he and you will both suffer what you say snuffed out our Dave Pike. You and he will be taken to the chamber of farts.’
Just as he said ‘chamber of farts’ there was a terrific noise from the side of the cell where the window was and then a thud as the wall caved in. All the bastards that were hurting Derek flew across the room, each pushed away by the force of some kind of explosion. It wasn’t an explosion though and as the dusty cloud settled I could see two people standing next to a weird looking sports car. It was Derrik, my Derrik and on the drivers side was bloodsteve.
They hurried in and got me out.
‘Quick, get the demons’ screamed Moranis on his side of the bars, while the soldiers tried desperately to open the barred door.
‘Your lucky,’ said Bloodsteve, ‘the machine…it’s dying, so we had like a one percent chance of getting to this exact location before they gassed you in the chamber of…’
I cut, as we clambered over the bodies of the alleged reptilians and conspiracy nuts. ‘Yeah I know…the chamber of farts?’
‘How?’ replied a bemused Bloodsteve.
‘I was told, that’s all you need to know. Let’s just get out of here. Please. All these people creep me out.’
‘Okay, just take it easy. Get in the car and we’ll get out of here, this place and this time. I’m sorry, it was a mistake.’ Bloodsteve sobbed, getting in the car.
Derrik hadn’t moved! He just stood in the cell, looking down at the floor.
‘Derrik, come on. We need to go now.’ I cried.
‘Okay, okay, okay,’ murmured Derrik.
He got in the car and just as Moranis and the soldiers opened the barred door, we reversed and went back to our time. One thing I did notice though, was the little doctor, it Danny Devito. How did I know this? Well, when the car reversed the little man was run over and got tangled up in the car, subsequently travelling back in time with us. When we realised this, Bloodsteve used one of his many car modifications and Devito’s limbs were cut free, but he plummeted to the ground from car which was now hundreds of feet in the air. He died, for sure I thought.
As we hovered in the air, close to Hollywood as Bloodsteve indicated he suddenly revealed his plans. Plans, which he and my Derrik had been working on for days. The operation name was titled ‘Operation Stone and the Two Towers’.
‘Open the glove compartment’ Bloodsteve barked.
The papers in the glove compartment would reveal the extent of Operation Stone and the Two Towers. The plan bordered on ridiculous, it was crazy. How could this be plausible, I thought.
‘It’s easy, not complex at all’ Derrek chirped behind me, ‘We have to kill Oliver Stone, while he’s editing his movie at his plush mansion and swap his movie with ours. If his movies gets out there, the turquoise revolution begins, if ours gets out it will never happen. Our film will be seen as a joke, but if World Trade Centre gets out people will never know and then Moranis will take over. Middle-America will laugh at the truth in lies movies, believe me.’
‘What’s this World Trade Centre movie about then?’ I asked Derrek.
‘[sign in to see URL] attacks.’ Derrek sarcastically replied, ‘But more dangerously Alex Cones’ ‘Pike and Okra carried out the attacks’ theory.’
‘Okay, very well. Straight to the Stone Mansion then.’
 







---
"We're the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War's a spiritual war... our Great Depression is our lives." - Tyler Durden, Fight Club
4/8/2006, 10:57 pm Link to this post Send Email to knights   Send PM to knights
 
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Re: Truth in Lies 3: Hell comes to Pikestown


Part 1 of 2.

The doctor of film, Bloodsteve Rock Your Face, would lead my friend and I to Oliver Stone's house. Then we would set it all back right. Or so we thought, as Oliver Stone's Swedish attendant opened the front door....

"I need to speak to Oliver right away" said Bloodsteve.

"Who are you" asked the attendant.

"Umm.."

Slam went the door.

So this wasn't going to be easy. I glanced at Pikey and saw that he was ready to this properly.

From inside, the knocking seems rather insistent. The attendant returns to the door: "Oh who is it?!"

From oustide: "Sorry to disturb you, but there's been a horrible accident down the road and my friend is bleeding if I could use your telly.."

"I've got to use this in a movie sometime" says Bloodsteve, but alas I increasingly felt the world may never get to see Madden Football: The Animated Trilogy. When all was said and done, with the revolution crushed and reputations ruined, Bloodsteve will have paid the biggest [sign in to see URL] he remains in unfettered reality.

Dave turned abruptly and said "that IS from a movie, twit!"

"Black Hawk Down" I said and Bloodsteve shrugged in disappointment.

At once the door blasted open and Oliver himself ran out, almost trampling us.

"Where's the bleeding guy?" he asked. He seemed ready for action, as if he were a doctor or something.

"Hi, Mr. Stone" said Bloodsteve, cheerily.

Oliver backed away, apprehensive and angry at the same time. He said: "What's going on here? There's no bleeding guy. Are you terrorists? No. Don't answer that. You're right-wingers here to protest or you're NRA or you're Pixar lawyers. I don't want you here."

With that he was back inside the house and the slamming the door-

-but Dave caught it, the door, before it shut, and he was inside without us, to try and drive the truth home to Oliver Stone.

"Come on, Doctor" I said, and we were inside, too.

Interlude: FOXNEWS ALERT. Snakes bite people. Some of the snakes are poisonous. Now back to.....

Oliver had beaten myself and my companions with some strange blend of kung-fu. All the while, we pleaded for him to stop and help us end the revolution.

Afterwards, Oliver's first question was obvious as he pointed at the Bloodsteve: "Who is this guy?"

"I am a doctor of-" began Bloodsteve, but Dave finished the thought as he noticed Oliver didn't recognize him.

"You should know him, because he's a film director-like you" said Dave.

"Bullsh*t" countered Oliver. "I've never seen this man before in my life. I mean, it all sounds thin. My movie-the one I haven't edited yet-will cause a right wing revolution, the likes of which only Ronald Reagan could imagine....... Sorry. That's not believable. Frankly you make my movie sound like one of those films that are distributed on the internet, like Why Our Screws Are Loose And We Fight Change. But c'mon, dude. My movie is about people helping others, and laying down their lives to demolish a building."

"What?" said Bloodsteve.

"Dick Cheney is from Wyoming. Don't you get it?" Oliver continued. "Boys, the revolution isn't happening because of my movie. You look like good corcerned people. Your hearts are in the right place. Make a movie and distribute it. You know the truth."

Dave's hysteria had been long gone, but at once I saw a flash of it's return. We might do this-without killing Oliver Stone. We might.

"Let's go make our film, 2001: The Year Before 2002" said Dave. And he left, his manic energy restored.

As Bloodsteve and I left, the doctor tried one last attack while Oliver's back was turned.

But no dice. Oliver plucked out one of the doctor's eyes, then bid us both farewell as he too retreated into some other, perhaps more awesome part of the house.

In the car, Dave said "we must go to the most important place. We know that the planes weren't flown by real Muslims. The planes were converted passenger jetliners armed with bombs, one of which exploded too early. The buildings were also rigged with explosives by demolition experts. Floss Security and the US Secret service were behind the attack, destroying their own offices. The Pentagon attack doesn't count because it was fake. Flight 93 is a lie because some of the passengers have been in other movies and they are members of the Screen Actors Guild. The cameramen that were aboard, may have been terrorists because they didn't help them at all."

"I guess" I said.

"There isn't enough interest to get me a book signing there, but we're going anyways......" said Dave-

"to New York, to witness the crime. The film needs 9/11 footage and we are going to get it the best way possible."

---
"Those who doubt me suck ****s by choice."
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