The Ever Friendlier Skies of United

“It sure is a beautiful day for a flight,” I said to myself as I settled into my center seat, Row 23, Coach Class, United Airlines Flight No. 874.

And I’d heard Akron was quite an exciting place to be this time of year too.

I don’t get to fly that much anymore, so I was really looking forward to getting myself a bag of honey-roasted peanuts and half-a-Coca-Cola and silently giving thanks that the guy in the window seat wasn’t big and fat even if he were to have an overactive bladder.

And then, those words.

“We’re sorry to have to tell you this,” said the stewardess a bit sheepishly into the microphone, “but this flight has been unintentionally overbooked. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask one kind passenger to relinquish his or her seat.”

Well, I can’t say I was surprised given today’s headlines.  But airline policies supposedly had now been changed, passengers were being treated better, and inducements to give up one’s seat somewhat enhanced.

But for crying out loud, I had to be in Akron tomorrow!

“If you’re willing to relinquish your seat on today’s Flight No. 874,” the stewardess continued, “United Airlines is prepared to provide you with … cue the music ... curtain going up on:

United Airlines Showcase No. 1!

Yes, you’ll be staying this evening at Philadelphia’s Four Seasons Hotel where you’ll enjoy a scrumptious five star dinner! And next morning at the hour of your choosing - not too early now - we will fly you by private jet directly to Akron Ohio where you’ll be presented with the keys to the city, after we spiff it up a bit.  Then following your stay in Akron ….

It’s off to that little island in the Pacific - Hawaii!

Yes, you’ll take off first class for a two-week deluxe stay at everywhere that’s cool to be in Jeff Session’s favorite island paradise! From the volcanic beauty of the Big Island, to the verdant lushness of Maui, to the iconic majesty of Oahu, it’s the Hawaii you have been dreaming of and much more, and you’ll be sharing the experience with…

Actress Scarlett Johansson!

Yes, assuming she’s between marriages at the time, and if she’s not you’ll be accompanied by whatever hotter than hot actress (or actor, as applicable) you choose who is available, except not Anna Kendrick because who would choose Anna Kendrick? Then when you get back home, you’ll enjoy driving wherever you please in The Great 48 in ….

Your New Car, a 2017 BMW M240i Coupé! 

Yes, it’s sheer driving ecstasy with luxury and performance as befits that discerning someone who hangs out in Hawaii with movie stars and gives up a seat to Akron in order to get there!  And that’s our …

United Airlines Showcase No. 1! 

Total Cash Value - $78,614.37.

Now, are there any volunteers?”                   

My arm shot up in the air like it was trying to escape my torso.

“I’ll take it!  I'll not only take it, I’ll kill for it! I’ll kill with the gleeful abandon of Roderigo Duterte for it!”

“Thank you, sir. The overage balding guy in Row 23 has volunteered first.  What is your name, sir?”

“I’m Perry Block. And by the way, I have no problem with Ms. Johansson as my companion.”

“Mr. Block, we must ask you to move swiftly off the plane, it’s about to take off.”

“Sure, but it’s hard to get through here. There’s all these showcase items all over the aisles.”

“Mr. Block, just weave your way through them.”

“But there’s a …. how did you get a BMW on the plane anyway?”

“Hurry, Mr. Block, we’re taking off in one minute!”

“I’m trying to get off! There’s a parrot in front of me ...”

“Okay, we gotta get him off now! “Security!!  Security!!!” 

  

“I’m trying to get off! I’m trying!!!

“Will somebody please drag Mr. Block off this plane already?!!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everybody's a Hero

Just another day in small town America

It all happened in the first part of the 21^st Century.

Sparked by an intense barrage of superhero movies, graphic novels, and television shows, superheroes with amazing powers became more popular than chocolate sprinkles. Soon virtually everyone in America who did not already possess powers beyond those of mortal men began devising whatever cockamamie scheme they could to acquire them now.

People stood in pools of hydrochloric acid in lighting storms, drank volumes of random chemicals while clasping on to frayed electrical wiring, blasted off to distant planets where complicit aliens might blast them back imbued with whatever powers one may possess from birth on Planet Shmoolu, and slept with their heads in the microwave.

From every corner of America there sprang up mighty heroes like Amazo (able to read minds, but only up to a third grade level), Spin Cycle (power to dry anything really fast), Womb Woman (capable of transporting arch villains back to their mother's wombs, where they could do no harm), Mighty Minion (ten shapeshifting Jews), Nose Rider (possessing the power to smell spills and messes that have long since been cleaned up), Cyclone Woman (she who controls the elements, especially cadmium), and Captain Chipmunk.

By the year 2032 the Chairman of the US Department of Federal Statistics, Wonder Man, estimated that over 45% of the entire population of the United States consisted of superheroes, 27% were sidekicks, and 19% were cutesy human friends to the hero with names like Scooter, Maxie, and Li’l JoJo. Even at noon the skies were so filled with costumed and caped crime fighters that pigeons couldn’t fight their way through to shit on cars and remaining non-superheroes.

Business reaped a bonanza. Skilled costume designers and tailors couldn’t pump out fresh costumes, logos, and identity concealing headgear fast enough. It wasn’t uncommon for dry cleaners to have dozens of crime fighting costumes marked for special delivery on Thursday, creating a massive back-log as most dry cleaning personnel were off battling Dr. Mephisto, leaving only Zebra Man behind to clean and press.   

Arch villains also benefited. Whenever the Bat Signal shattered the night sky so too did the sky signage of every other resident superhero within the surrounding multi-state area.

 "This burglar’s mine, Ocular Hombre!”

“I saw him first, UltraDick!”

“No fair! You have X-Ray vision.”

“And you have a Macro-Extended Penis! You could have nabbed him all the way from Cleveland!”

“Gangway, Guys!”

"Who the fuck are you?”

"I’m the Kantian Kid!  I’ll bore all three of you with a lecture on “The Critique of Pure Reason” and grab the burglar while you two are busy taking the quiz!”

And in the resulting melee, the burglar would routinely get away.

There did remain some Americans who were not superheroes, approximately  30% of the population as computed by Wonder Man and his chief assistant, Kid Speedy. One such person was Lyle Lumpkin of Dinkleville, Kansas.

"I’m happy being a regular guy,” Lumpkin was wont to say. “Y’know, if we get word that Lex Luther is about to blow up the town’s bicycle shop or 7-11 - Luther comes here occasionally when he can’t get a reservation to blow up Metropolis, what with all the superheroes there - the missus (I mean, Danger Dame), Teen Terrific, and Commander Baby leap into action while I sit here and watch “The Chew.”

Unfortunately the three of them have to take their turns with the other superheroes - we got three Green Lanterns in Dinkleville alone - which makes it tough for them to get a superpower in edgewise!”

Gradually as times changed interest in superheroes waned and a new generation opted for other professions, becoming doctors, lawyers, and apologists for the Trump Administration.

“Business is lousy these days, Electric Chick,” said the Joker when he appeared on Fox Business Channel’s Market Mornings with Electric Chick, whose ratings were steadily declining.

“How can you get away in a melee anymore when no more than 7 superheroes show up whenever you’re trying to murder Batman’s girlfriend?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If Automobiles Had Been Invented Before The Wheel

"Excuse me, young lady, I'd like some help please." 

"Of course, sir!   I'm here at the Toyota front desk to help with whatever you need!"

"Why, you're Jan, the pitch person for Toyota!"

"Yes, I am, sir!  And it's my job to make your Toyota shopping experience as pleasant as pleasant can be!"

"Well, then could you send someone else over? You're such a boring advertising construct you make Ted Cruz seem interesting!"

"But I'm the pretty face of Toyota, sir!"

"Sure, but you have all the personality of a 1994 Camry that's still on the road.  Who green lighted your commercials anyway? The same guy who green lighted Alice in Wonderland?"

"Sir, please, I'm here for you with a great big smile!"

"Oh, boy.  Okay, Jan, what Toyota would you recommend for a sports enthusiast like me?

"The Toyota Highlander, sir!"

"What are the particulars?"

"It is a  4-door, 7-seat Sport Utility,  equipped with a standard 2.7L, 4-cylinder, engine automatic transmission and four all season radial boxes."

"Radial boxes, you say?"

"Of course."

"What brand of boxes?"

"Michelin.  Nothing but the best boxes  for the Highlander!" 

"Is there a warranty on the boxes?  How far are they warrantied to go before you a need an emergency appointment with a chiropractor?"

"Either one week or 9 and a half blocks, whichever comes first."

"Now that's impressive!  Does Toyota pay for the first three appointments?"

"Of course, sir, and the first three surgeries too."

"Wow! May I go for a trial "thumpety-thumpety?"

THUMPETY- THUMPETY - THUMP - THUMP - THUMP ....

"What a super smooth ride, Jan! I wasn't nauseous at all except for when I turned on the ignition right up to this moment now.

"That's wonderful, sir!  

"I'll bet with these Michelin boxes you could start out one day in Philadelphia and drive as far as you could each day, and be in New York in only one lifetime!"

"Glad you like the car, sir.  Too bad I can't play up to you to induce you to buy it, but that's just how lamely my character is drawn."

"You know, Jan, I'll bet one day somebody is going to invent something other than boxes for cars to ride on and cars will then be able go much further.  Like to the mailbox."

"I hope so, sir."

"Maybe somebody could round the corners  of each box to create a shape somewhat like the number '0'."

"Oh, sir!  Don't you think if that could be done, someone would have done it long ago?"

"I guess you're right, Jan.  Know what else?"

"What?"

"Finally you're starting to appeal to me!"

THUMPETY- THUMPETY - THUMP - THUMP - THUMP ... THUMPETY- THUMPETY - THUMP - THUMP THUMPETY!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Soft Murmur of the Sea (FF)

FF- Friday Fictioneers

Copyright: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

"I love the soft murmur of the sea" said Perry to his friend Andy as they rested by the edge of the shore watching the waves break upon the rocky shoals of the beach.

"No wonder you were so eager to come here today," replied Andy.

"Nowhere else on Earth do I feel as at one with Nature and the world as by water's edge," Perry went on. “I think to truly appreciate life you must immerse yourself both mentally and physically into water’s spiritual essence.”

"Well, let's go in for a swim then," suggested Andy.

"What are you, out of your mind? It's fucking freezing in there!"

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I've always loved going to the ocean and riding the waves, but as I've gotten older a curious phenomenon has taken place.  The higher my age gets, the lower the temperature of the water seems to go.  The last time I was at the beach, the soft murmur of the sea was "Turn up the heat, dammit!"

The story herein represents  my take on the picture prompt above, and the takes of the other Friday Fictioneers are available if you click here.  I'm sure you'll enjoy. 

Meanwhile I'm hitting the snack bar at the beach.  Which is heated.

Behind Barbed Wire (FF)

FF- Friday Fictioneers

copyright - Madison Woods

"If only I could tear it down and free myself!" shouted Anatole.

"You've got to get a hold of yourself," Francois shot back. "Accept what is!"

"I'll never accept it!  I am tormented by this barbed wire fence all around us!"

“I knew things would eventually come to this, Anatole. The way you’re always questioning, always doubting, always mouthing off.”  

“How do you stand it, Francois?"   

“I accept things as is.”

Anatole and Francois packed up their gear and climbed into the Francois and Anatole’s Fence Company truck.

"Look, Anatole, it's a good fence and the customer was satisfied," said Francois. "You've got to stop being such a perfectionist!" 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Well, did I fool ya into thinking these guys were some kind of political prisoners in the old Soviet Union, some third world country, or Texas?  No?  You were onto me all the time?  Well, serves me right for not being a perfectionist!

If you want to check out the work of the other Friday Fictioneers relative to the picture prompt above, please click here.  Every one is a perfectionist in his or her own way but always in a good way.

As for Anatole, he is imprisoned not by a fence but by his own mind. And that may be the worst imprisonment of all.

Little Shoe Lost (FF)

© C.E. Ayr

It had been a rather unhappy year for Evelyn. 

A series of setbacks had hampered her at work. She had gotten sick, a man had left her, and she’d made a few highly noticeable mistakes. Finally she received her termination notice.

Before long Evelyn was wandering the streets alone. Where could she go? What could she do?

Up ahead on a sidewalk grate she spied a little shoe lost, tattered but still wearable. Next to the grate on the sidewalk was the marking "E48."  Why shouldn't she go for it? There was no reason not to. 

She decided she would!

Inside the trendy Bistro E48, Evelyn feasted on Lobster Newburg, thought about how good it was to have a Golden Parachute, and admonished Claude the proprietor to get rid of the unsightly little shoe lost on the grate next to the restaurant's name on the sidewalk.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yes, nobody need feel sorry for Evelyn. After dinner she'll wander the streets alone back to her penthouse condo and her several hundred pairs of designer shoes. Ain't unemployment a bitch?

The other Friday Fictioneers have many other takes on the picture prompt above and you can access them all by clicking here. There's no telling what they've done with the little shoe lost.

Maybe somebody even polished it.  In that case, I think I'll take it! 

Ambrose, the Lobster Lover (FF)

© Dale Rogerson

Ambrose loved lobster.

"How's this one look to you, Mr. Ambrose?" said the waiter. "We'd be pleased to boil him alive and then rip out the tender meat from his carcass for you."

"No, he looks a little small," replied Ambrose.

"How about this one?" offered the waiter. "We could murder him and rip him asunder as well."

"I don't think so," said Ambrose.

"Well, here's a juicy one I'd love to execute for your pleasure."

“Nah,” muttered Ambrose.

Ambrose loved lobster, but he could never make up his mind which one he wanted. By the time he finally did, the lobster he chose had usually died of old age.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I like lobster too, but it always did bother me that I was issuing a death warrant for a living creature, all so I might later say "you know, it was kind of chewy tonight."  That lobster might have had a family and been a Democrat!  Hell, he might even have been Jewish!

Well, no grisly crustacean deaths (we hope) in the stories by the other Friday Fictioneers which you can select by clicking here.

Hey, want to go out for lobster?  You're paying, of course, but as per normal, I'll take on all the guilt.

The Good Old 1863 (FF)

© Ron Pruitt

It was 8:15 on Tuesday morning in Jefferson City, and already they were lining up to board Jefferson Lines Bus No. 1863 bound for Mt. Bailey for the weekly meeting of the Jefferson City Blame Someone Else Society.

The meetings were held in Mt. Bailey because it had a much bigger town hall.
Bob Byron had founded the Society secure in the conviction than anything bad ever happened to him was caused by his foreman, Drake Beighley.

At the Jefferson City Blame Someone Else Society, members railed against those responsible for their misfortunes.  It was the overly demanding boss, the ex-boyfriend, the hard driving assistant coach, and so on.

It was now 8:40 A.M. The bus driver flung open the doors and bade the passengers enter:

"Climb on.  Climb off.  Throw under."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

First up, congratulations to the Chief Honcho of the Friday Fictioneers, Rochelle Wisoff Fields, on her third anniversary helming the Fictioneers.

Rochelle has graciously suggested we may repost our stories from the week she began her august duties and she herself has posted the same picture from that week. So never missing a chance to screw off, I have herein submitted my same story from that week, but with a difference. I have edited it such that, even though it still exceeds 100 words, it no longer brazenly thumbs its nose at that limit as it surges on past it. 

You should surge on over to the stories of the the other Fictioneers by clicking here. And thanks again Rochelle; hope we never see you on the Good Old 1863.

Christopher Walken Gives Christmas Presents to the Crew on Pulp Fiction

Hey.  Hello. 

Merry Christmas to all of you on the set. 

I sure have enjoyed it a whole bunch working with you on Pulp Fiction and to thank you from the bottom of my heart, I have something for each one of you.

Now gather round me and I'll hand them out.  Say, do you want to try to guess what they are?

Yes, George?  Fruitcakes!?  You must think I'm as evil and sadistic as the characters I play in my career as America's foremost quirky cameo actor!   

Any other guesses?  No?

I've brought you watches! 

Really nice watches!  Quite similar in fact to the watch I give to the young boy in our little movie!

So, friends, step right up and I'll bend over, reach behind me, and hand you your watch!

What ... what seems to be the trouble?  I can see you're speechless.  I'm just gonna reach behind me, whip out each watch one at a time, and hand them to you!

Are you all just being shy? Look, I've got 15 watches back here, one for each of you. I carefully packed them up, tucked them away safe and cozy, and trudged over here with them this morning.  

Oh, yes, Bill? Where are they made? I believe it is a factory in Maine. Yes, they did travel quite a long way down South to get here.  Then they plopped right into my hands so I could give them to you.

C'mon, everybody, these are for you from me. I'm just going to bend over, reach around back here, grab one .... OOOHHHH, I'm not as young as I was in Annie Hall .... and give this watch to our friend, the sound man, Grover!

Hey, Grover, come back here! Everyone come back!! Come back!!!

I'll be damned! I bring all these watches in for everyone, put them on a table behind me so they'll be a surprise, and nobody wants them!

Oh well, time to deliver my special gift to Quentin Tarantino. I really want to surprise him so I've hidden my gift very well.  Hey, Quentin, bet you'd never suspect that America's foremost quirky cameo actor would give you a baby grand piano!

I better find him. This is starting to tickle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And in case you're not really clear what's going on above, here's Christopher Walken's bizarre turn as Captain Koons in Pulp Fiction.

The Little Mushroom (FF)

Copyright Ted Strutz

Once there was a little mushroom growing in a field.

The mushroom began growing and soon it was twenty feet tall. It was so tall that a local entrepreneur made it into a ride for children. It continued to grow and soon it was as high as the clouds and only the bravest children rode it.

It continued to grow and soon it reached into space and only those children who could hold their breath a long time rode it.  A spaceship flew by and Pinterass said to Myspace "I've never seen one of those so incredibly big!  It's so huge, it's festooned!" 

Fearing a race of giants, Myspace and Pinterass decided not to invade.   And that is how the little mushroom saved the Earth. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  

What a heroic mushroom!  It almost bring tears to my eyes.  That is, tears to my eyes that that I wrote such a lame story and am passing it off as heroic. Next week, I'm going to write about a guy and a computer and pass it off as a love story.  I'll bet that's never been done!

If you click right here,  you can read the stories of the other Friday Fictioneers, heroic, loving, or otherwise.

Good thing you didn't eat the mushroom when it was small.  Hey, you're the hero!

The Museum of the Electronic Mouse (FF)

© Marie Gail Stratford

Willard Cornwallis had always wanted to open a museum and be a millionaire, and he thought he could accomplish both by opening The Museum of the Electronic Mouse.

The new museum had wired mouses, wireless mouses, and a mouse that said "Made in China." There was a mouse that had been used by Gates (David Gates, the lead singer of Bread), one used by Steve Jobs (a small employment agency in Akron), and a fanciful mouse operated by Blue Stripe Guy, a Batman villain who never quite got to tangle with Batman because his mommy called him in for dinner.

In June, Willard Cornwallis opened his museum and by August he was indeed a millionaire many times over. 

The crowds that thronged to The Museum of the Electronic Mouse did not come to see the exhibits. They came to see what kind of an idiot would think he could become a millionaire with a museum like The Museum of the Electronic Mouse.

~~~~~~~~~

If you're a stickler for the 100 word requirement of the Friday Fictioneers (and fortunately Rochelle is not), I hope you didn't read the above piece. This story is so far over the limit, even I want to force feed me my mouse for writing it.

But I didn't want to give short shrift to an enterprising dude like Willard Cornwallis, so I present his story here in 200 words or less (I hope).  You can read the enterprising and certainly more length-appropriate stories of the other Fictioneers by clicking here.

See you at The Museum of the Electronic Mouse! Can't to see that "Made in China" wonder. 

(Sorry, still mostly missing in action for reading your stories.  Please don't write anything great until I come back ....)

The Night Drive (FF)

copyright The Reclining Gentleman

"Phillip, we've been riding behind this guy for a good five minutes," said Buckley, as he and Phillip drove over the Minsky River.  "Why don't you pass him?"

"I've put my high beams on to signal him to pull over so I can pass," said Phillip, "but he doesn't seem to be getting the message!"

"Phillip" replied Buckley, "that's not the way to do it. Pull around him."

"Really?  Just go around him?"

"Sure.  There are no cars in the lane next to you."

"Just go around him?"

"Naturally."

"In the lane next to him?"

"Of course."

"Okay, whatever you say."

"OMG!  No, No, Phillip! NOOOO!  AHHHHHHHH!"

Phillip and Buckley had to be fished out of the Minsky River.  Phillip had gone in the lane to the left, not the right, to get around the car in front of him.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Though I'm not quite as bad a driver as Phillip, I have been told I have a heavy foot. How do you go about losing weight in your foot? Is there a Jenny Craig for feet?

Anyway you should foot it on over to the responses of the other Friday Fictioneers to the picture prompt above by clicking the word lead foot right here. You don't have to drive, although Phillip is waiting to take you.

I have not have the opportunity to comment on many of your stories lately and I apologize. If I haven't commented on your story, that means I loved it! Now will you take a spin with me, lead foot and all? 

The Natural Attraction (FF)

© Jennifer Pendergast

Mulford had a dream.

He wanted to build a small vacation hotel in the little town of Philaberg nestled quietly along the banks of Lake Kitchiekoo. The townspeople agreed but worried there were no natural attractions in the area to bring tourists.

That Sunday Mulford rowed out to the center of the lake to scout locations. He was thinking maybe a nice rock garden could be an attraction when suddenly there was a mighty swell and swirling water slammed against the side of the boat. It was then that the head of an enormous sea creature surfaced. 

"Damn it, Nessie!"cried Mulford, “Can't you ever cool it? If outsiders find out about you, we'll never get anyone to come here!" 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Poor Mulford!   He's right, of course.  Who in their right mind would want to go visit a small town just  to see a dinosaur thought extinct for 60 million years cavort joyfully in a lake?  Can you imagine how that would interfere with water skiing?
    
Maybe the townsfolk can convince Nessie to tone it down a bit while they put in a cheese slicing museum. Or maybe we'll find some better ideas for the hapless Philaberg folks by checking out the other Friday Fictioneers by clicking here to see what they've done with the picture prompt above.

By the way, Nessie also juggles and does impressions. Yep, he's box office poison, all right.
~~~~~~~~~~~~

JUMP! (FF)

© Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Roger stood right on the edge, his heart pounding, his will beginning to waver.  

"JUMP! JUMP!"  shouted the voices that seemed to come from all around him. 

"C'MON MAN ... JUMP! JUMP! JUMP!"

"Who are these people?!" wondered Roger. "What do they want?"

Roger was not going to disappoint them.  He said a quick prayer, leaned forward, and arms flailing at his sides, he jumped.

"Fourteen feet, two inches!" exclaimed the referee.  "A new world record in the standing broad jump!"

The crowd cheered.  Now Roger knew who they were: good folks of all kinds, whether sitting in the bargain seats or the brick enclosed skyboxes, whose inspiration had made him a champion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Serves me right.  No sooner do I write this piece than it turns out nobody does the broad jump anymore.  So if we all shout "Jump! Jump!" these days we're more likely to hear Van Halen than see any great feats of "broad jumpitation."

However, if you click on the word Jump! right here, you will see the great feats of the other Friday Fictioneers relative to the picture prompt above. So say a quick prayer, lean forward, and click "Jump!"

Glad I could inspire you.

The Attack (FF)

© Sandra Crook

"It's been a wonderful time here exploring this strange but beautiful land," said Sporka, sipping the last vestiges of a cup of tea as he sat in the courtyard cafe.

"I've loved it too," replied Manus. "But our mission is now over, and soon the Attack will begin."

"Is there no way to stop it, Manus?  I don't want an Attack!" 

"I’ve tried to find a way, Sporka, but it is as if decreed. The Attack will happen!"

"And as always," muttered Sporka, "there will be untold pain and suffering.” 

Manus paid the café bill and Sporka and Manus beamed up to their hotel room, Sporka beaming right into the bathroom.

"OOOHHH!” he moaned.  “Always whenever I travel to Earth!" 

“The Attack has begun," sighed Manus.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This one is so cheap and exploitative even I feel like hiding in the bathroom. Nevertheless this is my crude and tasteless response to this week's lovely picture prompt above from ace Friday Fictioneer Sandra Crook.

You won't be moaning and groaning like Sporka if you check out the work of the other Fictioneers by clicking here; in fact, you'll be oohing and aahing!

And now, if you'll pardon me, I'm off to signal my masters on Pluto to begin the Attack.