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Why there are so few admins now
 
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DeathBringer
Super Regular
Pipey FlagCatcher

P: 09/26/2014 19:17 EST
    Is it a tumor?  
blacksheiladog
Super Regular
Heavy Flag
Percher

P: 09/26/2014 19:30 EST
E: 09/26/2014 20:06 EST
    Walnuts if you ever write a book, Id buy it! reminiscent of Elmore Leonard.

as to the question regarding the Peep hole and the constable, let's just say im a good guesser? 84% of households have a peephole and given the obvious conflict that occurred, a follow up by someone would have been foreseeable. Your advice to others regarding Not inviting cops in is well taken and should be followed by All.

and now I look forward to the continuation of our exciting adventure to meet Drippy!
  
blacksheiladog
Super Regular
Heavy Flag
Percher

P: 09/28/2014 01:23 EST
E: 10/16/2014 17:26 EST
    THE STORY CONTINUES

Wally and Walnuts gaze through the sheer layers of curtain that separate them from Wuhu, much like the veils of an Egyptian parlor. She is obscured, and although her outline is recognizable, the details are not. Big Larry motions for Wally and Walnuts to sit on the nearby pillow seats scattered around the tent. Wally grabs three. Walnuts says he prefers to stand. Big Larry says he prefers Walnuts to sit, so Walnuts sits.

A voice, more ethereal than real comes from the dimly lighted form, with a voice that is at once soothing and at the same time menacing. The warm gentle breeze creates a shimmering image of beauty and danger.

“So, gentlemen, you have accepted my invitation. I’m so glad. You two have come to my attention over the years. Did you enjoy the cookies?”

Walnuts and Wally exchange a glance. “Yes, Wuhu” says Wally. "I still have all 6!”

"Walnuts, I especially enjoy your piping strategies. Spec'ing you is a treat. And Wally, I have to say it's true--Fatty Caps are always a crowd pleaser! You both remind me of a famous team."

"You mean like Batman and Robin?", asks Wally.

"No, more like the Skipper and Gilligan".

Walnuts, realizing this is a once in a lifetime chance, decides to go for it.

“Madame Wuhu, there is something we have wondered all this time. Is Stunner a guy or a girl?”

Wuhu waves her hand across the air in front of her. The motion is something between a dismissal and an invitation. Several moments pass, and Wally, becoming impatient, checks his messages on his smartphone, only to find there is no signal.

Finally, she begins. “This is something that few have asked but only Drippy and I have known. Even the admins don’t have this information. You will recall that Wally's poll ended up 50/50. That is no coincidence. Do you feel you are wise enough to have this truth? And if I give it to you, what will you do with the knowledge?”

“What is this, take the pebble from my hand time?” mutters Walnuts. Wally gives him a stern glare and replies: “With this knowledge, Wuhu, we can once and for all know if we are giving a gay !unf or not. In my case, this is a very important question, since HW players are already suspect.”

Walnuts chokes a back a laugh and the two Larrys, who up to this point have been completely stoic, suddenly look down at their shoes.

In the dim light, it is difficult to be sure, but Wuhu appears to smile.

As the last fading beams of the sun cast the tent in a warm, rich glow, Wuhu lights the small oil lamp next to her bed and pulls her diamond studded gown more closely around her chest, sitting up in front of the large mahogany headboard carved with the D2F logo. The lighting in the tent become surreal, with strong hues of blue and red becoming apparent at opposite entrances.

“Before I answer your question, Wally, there are a few tests you must pass to prove your Steam intent. But as to the question of Stunner...

TO BE CONTINUED
  
Mr. Walnuts
Daycare Manager
Pipey FlagCatcher

P: 10/14/2014 08:40 EST
    “Without further ado, I introduce the host of this event —“

Wally elbows me while he is jiggling around in ecstasy, his smile about to sever the top half of his head off.

“Wuhu”

Once I was at a party at some big ass house in Austin. Suits and slackers, whores and debutantes. I’m guessing I was one of the whores. Anyway, the tequila was flowing like a river but it was hard to find a beer chaser to go with any of it. A bartender said there were some ice chests outside. Outside meant any one of a dozen gardens, patios, decks, and balconies. The first few I scouted came up dry. I finally spied a chest through some french doors in the billiard room that lead out to a deck. As I walked out, a voice came from the right side of the deck, a couple of guys leaning against the railing.

“Well, lets ask him. I betcha he’d know.” And there I was face to face with Tom Petty and film director Robert Rodriguez.

That was the only time I remember feeling like I was at that moment standing in front of this barefooted, statuesque woman in a robin egg blue tunic girted with a wide gold belt. Its like the part of the emotional Venn diagram where awe, terror, and ecstasy overlap. My face was hot, chest was tight, I couldn’t breathe and, if asked, couldn’t speak.

She was fair skinned, with long, mousy blond/brown hair. She wore an eye patch which, ironically, was silk-screened with the image of an empty eye socket. And though it seemed like forever before she spoke, she had barely stopped on the platform before us before stoically pronouncing “Little Larry will give you all your instructions,” and then proceeded back through the draperies from which she came. Little Larry winced at the moniker, glared at Big Larry, then nodded his head in our direction.

As Big Larry began gathering up the inertia to lumber forward, Wally turned and looked at me questioningly, his palms up and shoulders raised. I just shook my head indicating that I didn’t know what the fuck was going on, either. Big Larry loomed before us and pointed outside and then he followed us out.

Little Larry was already outside and yelled at us to “Get over here!” He led us over to a picnic table close to the large shed.

“Put these on. Big Larry is getting you lunch.” He handed us the brightest green coveralls you ever saw and pointed to a box containing some used rubber slippers, orange - the kind they give you in jail. I could see that Wally was fashionably conflicted for a moment, but then became excited.

“Cool! Official D2F apparel!” Indeed, someone had crudely written “D2F” in black marker on the back of each pair. We fished around in the box, finding some slippers that fit. We put the coveralls on, mine being way too big, Wally’s way too small. We swapped, Wally’s still a little snug, mine a bit blousy. The color was blinding and, for some reason, made me feel a little distressed. I kept the feeling to myself as Big Larry approached with two foil-wrapped squares, a couple of red Solo cups, and a plastic pitcher of some pink liquid. He laid them all gently on the table and started gathering our clothes.

We sat at the table and I poured a cup of the pink liquid and handed it to Wally, smiling.

“Here’s your Crystal Lite. Told ya.” I poured another cup for myself and we unwrapped the foil squares. A thin slice of bologna between two pieces of spongy white bread. I watched Wally as he unwrapped his. A big smile broke across his pink face.

“Don’t say it.”

“Hey, at –“

“Don’t say it, motherfucker!”

“At least its not cheese,” I threw my sandwich at him and missed, “But, Walnuts...Wuhu...who woulda thought!? I mean, Drippy, that woulda been cool enough. He could still show up! There was one little thing, though. Did she seem like she was, you know, nervous or something?”

He was right. As dumbstruck as we both had been, we still detected it. Not exactly what either of us expected. I nodded in agreement without looking at him. My attention was on Big Larry who was unceremoniously dumping our clothes on the ground next to the door of the big shed. Shouldn’t we put them where we will be rooming? And where the fuck was that going to be? The door on the shed had a huge padlock on it, so I doubted it was going to be there. I was hungry and needed some answers. I got up from the table and began walking towards Big Larry. When he saw me, he took one large menacing step in my direction. I froze.

“Hey, Big Larry, what else do you have to eat around here? I have a few other questions–“

He reached into a front pocket and pulled out something that made a couple of loud clicking noises. Little Larry appeared from nowhere.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why would you assume something is wrong?”

“Big Larry doesn’t call me unless there is.”

“OK, for starters, there musta been some kinda mix up in our lunch order. We can’t eat that shit.” Little Larry turned and looked at Wally who had eaten his sandwich and was a bite away from finishing mine which he had picked up off the ground.

“Seems to be OK for your compadre over there. You are wrong about another thing. You didn’t order lunch. We gave you lunch. But you do have options you can choose for dinner.”

“Which are?” Maybe things were looking up.

“Yes or No.”

“And what about our quarters? Where will we be sleeping? I’d like to go ahead and put my clothes there rather than have them lying in the dirt.”

“Due time. Big Larry will take good care of your clothes in the meantime.” He made a hand motion and Big Larry rounded us up and led us towards a wooded area fifty yards from the picnic table. There was a wide path that led into a clearing that appeared almost as soon as you entered the wood. In the middle was a nasty-looking ‘72 Ford Torino with Texas plates. It had a thick coating of mud splatter and general grime. Next to it were a couple of large buckets of water and a pile of brushes, rags, bottled soaps and other cosmetic car care accouterments. Big Larry quietly walked over and sat on a stump. He produced a large apple from somewhere, took a large chomp, and chewed while staring off into space.

“If I’m not mistaken, I believe we are to wash this car.”

“Bullshit! If the keys are in it, we’re fucking driving it out of here! Are you still under the delusion this is some kind of admin training thing? All you have to do to be an admin is spend all your time on the server and the forums kissing ass and sucking up!”

“Umm...Walnuts? They never made ME an admin,” He had a point. He added further, “See, I’m thinking this is one of those mind-bending things, kind of like law school. Drippy wants your head to be in a certain place, maybe, before he gives out the keys to the kingdom. The server is the last legacy of TFC. Think about it. He can’t be putting someone in charge just off the street.”

“You’d have to have your head up your ASS if this is what you have to do!”

Wally only responded with a look of disappointment. He walked over and grabbed a brush and a bucket and went to the car, only to turn briefly so I could see his dejection. He really wanted this and I could see his point, somewhat. Fuck it. I’d washed cars before. I guess it wouldn’t kill me and it would delight Wally to no end. Which is what happened.

While I was applying the tire shine, we heard voices. Several. All male. Big Larry was dozing on his stump so someone else was there we had not known about. I hissed at Wally, motioning that I was going to slink off and investigate. He was shaking his head vigorously, eyes pleading, when I took off in a swift, crouched walk. I got to the end of the path that we entered the clearing from and was careful to stay behind a tree. There in front of the large tent was Little Larry talking to a couple of thin, greasy-haired guys with bad complexions. They were sitting in a golf cart, which explains why we didn’t hear anyone coming. They didn’t look like anyone special, a couple of slackers at best. But Little Larry was according them deference. Little Larry wasn’t in charge.

One of them got out of the cart and went into the tent as the other two sat outside, saying nothing.
He came back out several minutes later, barked something at Little Larry, got into the cart and they took off. They drove past the row of outhouses and as they approached the woods on that side the turned off onto a small black top road which I had not noticed before. I couldn’t see for the trees, but it appeared to lead up the mountain. That might explain how the Torino got here, I thought. I also thought about what else might be up there. But I didn’t have long to think about it.

“No! Really, sir! Its OK! He just stepped back over there somewhere to go take a shit!”

Big Larry had woken up. I quickly unzipped the top half of my coveralls and let it slip around to my waist and then strode back into the clearing. Big Larry was practically on top of Wally.

“Whew!,” I exclaimed, waiving my had back and forth in front of my face, “I wouldn’t go back there for a while if I were you!”

Big Larry backed off from Wally and looked at me like he was deciding which part to eat first. Thankfully, he turned and went back to sit on his stump. I got up close to Wally as soon as I could. He was standing with his arms crossed admiring the result of the car wash.

"Dude!," I whispered, "there's others here. I saw them. A couple of guys looking like they were giving Little Larry some shit. Took off up the mountain on a fairly decent road. There's a lot we aren't being told."

Before he could respond, Big Larry clicked his clicker thingy and Little Larry materialized from who knows where.

“What? Oh! Good!,” he said looking at the car, “Both of you, hold out your hands.” Unfortunately, he didn’t slap a roasted turkey leg into them, but turned them over to inspect them on both sides.

"Hmmm. Manicured." he said while he was inspecting Wally's fingers, almost lost in thought, "You get a lot of those?"

"Oh, no sir. I do them myself. My wife taught me to do hers, then I wound up doing my daughters' also."

"Pedicures?"

"Most certainly!"

He walked over to the car and opened the passenger door. An empty bag of Cheetos, a half empty tall boy of Pabst, and a Chinese take-out menu fell out onto the ground. He pointed to me, then Wally.

“You. Finish this. You. Come with me.” Wally followed him out of the clearing. Big Larry walked up right on me and shoved a big bunch of rags into my chest and pointed to the interior of the car.

The interior was a pit, like someone lived in it for a while. We hadn't seen much of what was inside because the film on that side of the windows was too grimy. Fast food bags, 9mm casings, empty plastic bottles, beer cans, a few really sick porno mags (which explained the bunch of crispy wads of napkins), hip-hop CD's for which there was no player, candy wrappers, etc., which all laid on a quarter inch of plain filth. Lots of other crap, but a few gems in the mix: a little over six bucks in change, some perfectly good ear buds, a pair of needle-nosed pliers, a half a pack of Newports with a mini Bic stuffed inside, stuff like that. I put all that in a Taco Bell bag which I tied to a lanyard I fashioned out of about four feet of speaker wire that was laying around. I put it around my neck, the bag resting at my stomach underneath the coveralls.

Meanwhile, Wally had been led to the big tent and then inside. Wuhu was lying on a canvas beach recliner under the big palm tree in the center. She looked as she had just come from a shower: hair wet, dressed in a plush bathrobe and terry cloth slippers. Wally thought she might be asleep because she wore a dark blue satin sleep mask with the words "Fuck Off" written across it. Next to her was a short stool and a small table with some small metal tools neatly arranged and bottles of liquid of various sizes. Wally and Little Larry walked to within several yards of her and stopped.

"Can you do French tips?"

"Well, I have, but it takes a real steady hand. I gotta admit, I'm a little nervous"

"Forget that then. Don't need fuck ups. Do your best. We need her looking good for the festivities tonight."

Wally literally leapt off his feet and landed in a crouch facing Little Larry, his hands out like he was going to grab and hug him, "FESTIVITIES??!!"

"Shut up. Go to work. AND DO NOT TALK TO HER."

"Yes sir!"

Little Larry trundled off towards the front of the tent and hoisted himself up to sit on the side of the raised platform. He occupied himself with a small paperback he pulled from his back pocket. Wally took the stool and tentatively took Wuhu's hand and placed her fingers in a bowl of liquid to soak. He took his time. While it was true he was nervous and that his hands were a bit trembly, he was still able to produce a gleaming faux malachite finish to each nail.

He moved the stool and table to the end of the recliner. She had not moved at all while he had done her nails and was convinced she was asleep. Very asleep. Nevertheless, he took great care in removing her slippers.

On the bottom of her right foot, written in green nail polish, was the word "SEMTEX". On the bottom of the other foot, the words "NOT WUHU".

To be continued....



  
blacksheiladog
Super Regular
Heavy Flag
Percher

P: 10/16/2014 17:03 EST
E: 10/16/2014 17:20 EST
    Wow! Thanks for the next chapter--I hope there will be more. Lots of funny writing. 'Dont say it motherfucker' LOL Well done. How did you know I could do a gleaming faux malachite finish?  
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