From: erikred@ocf.berkeley.edu (Erik Nielsen)
Newsgroups: alt.callahans
Subject: Re: Potstickers  [long....]
Date: 9 Apr 92 21:41:43 GMT
Article-I.D.: agate.s2dmnINN47g
Organization: U.C. Berkeley Open Computing Facility
NNTP-Posting-Host: sandstorm.berkeley.edu

In article <92099.085819AXM113@psuvm.psu.edu> AXM113@psuvm.psu.edu (Abner Mintz) writes:
>Tizrak walks over next to the dragon and says
>      "Well, the Grey Lady probably won't mind, but don't you think it would be
>polite to move off of the Giant?"
>
>A startled "Mrrrph" comes out from under Berith, followed by sounds of Erik
>talking to Kitten elsewhere in the room.
>
>"Never mind, it sounds like he already escaped ..."


One of the numerous Giants running around the Place runs up to Berith, lifts
him up, and...  er, one of the Giants _tries_ to pick Berith up, screams
"HERNIA!!!" and collapses under a table.  Mike anxiously pours a large mug
of akvaavit down his throat, at which point the Giant stops writhing and
lies still, a smile imbedded on his face.

Three more Giants, seeing their fallen comrade, er, fallen, rush up to the
dragon.

They look at the dragon.

They look at each other.

They look at the dragon again.

They break into a huddle.  "mmmmmmshnazzle-frazzlemmmmmWith a
Melon?!?mmmmshnazzle-frazzlemmmmmHut, hut, hike!"  With a clap of the hands,
they break huddle and slink up to the merrily eating dragon.  One of them
ceremoniously holds out his hand.  Another solemnly pulls a feather off the
bird in the corner (sorry, Archteryx!).  The third carries the feather over
to the first.  The first grasps the feather gingerly and proceeds to waggle
it in the dragon's left nostril.

"AAAHHHH!!!"  breathes Berith.  "AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!  AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH-
CHOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!"

The Giant calmly pulls back his burning hand, walks five feet to the tub of
water, and submerges his entire arm, whilst a beatific smile graces his
features.

In the meantime, the other two Giants, standing prepared, whisk a giant
pancake out from underneath the convulsive dragon.  They drop the pancake.
It floats slowly to the floor.  The Giants look at each other.  They sadly
shake their heads.  One of them pulls a whistle out of his pocket and blows
it; as he blows, a low rumbling sounds forth from the whistle.

Suddenly, the door to Callahan's bursts open, and a VW Bug rushes in.  (Big
door, huh?)  The VW weaves around several tables on a haphazard course for
the gathered Giants.  It stops inches away from the pancake, and the door
opens.  Out springs-- another Giant!  Behind him comes another, and another,
and another, and-- hey, give me a break, I can only fit four Giants in a VW
at a time!

The newly-arrived Giants gather around the pancake and pull out bike pumps.
sticking the nozzles haphazradly into the pancake, they start pumping
madly.  Soon enough...  they stop for a beer.  "Hey, Mike, four Guinni!"
They loaf, they drink, they tell crude jokes, and then one looks at his
watch.  "Whoops!  We're back on, boys!"  Pump, pump, pump.  

"Hmm," says one Giant, "I don't recall him being quite that big before."

"Hmm," says another, "I don't think his head was quite that swelled before."

"Hmm," says another, "I think I like vanilla."

The fourth one unplugs the various nozzles, and lots of air escapes.
"Thanks, fellows," says the re-inflated Giant.  "See you later!"

"Bye!"  They wave, then, using incredible Yoga mastery (yours for only
$19.95), the Giants fold back into the VW and take off.  (The mechanics of
folding Giants into VWs has baffle physicists for years.  The most popular
theory suggests that Giants actually fold space around them.  Even more
baffling, however, is VW's success, considering the limited market of
dwarves and midgets towards which they target their cars.  Farvegnugen, my
ass.)

The reconstituted Giant breathes a breath of fresh air and suddenly sniffs
the incredible aroma of potstickers.  Turning wildly, he spies a dragon
eating potstickers.  Horrors!!!  This is indeed a calamity!!!  He rushes
towards the potstickers, bellowing at the top of his lungs, then notices
(with more than a little awe) the incredible number of potstickers still
left.  Nodding gratefully to the Grey Lady, and smiling benificently at the
dragon, the Giant leans up against the bar, content to munch and share.

In a dark corner, two Giants talk lazily.
"Jefe, would you say I had a lot of Giants?"
"Si, El Guapo."
"Jefe, would you say I had a _plethora_ of Giants?"
Jefe pauses.  "Er, si, El Guapo, I would say you have a plethora of Giants."
"And, Jefe, how many Giants are in a plethora?"
"Um."
"It would distress me, Jefe, to think that my friend would tell me I had a
plethora of Giants if he did not know what a plethora was."
"El Guapo, I think you should have another drink."
El Guapo nods.  "Si, Jefe.  Jefe?  Would you say I had a lot of drinks?"
Jefe groans....

This is a test.  This is only a test.  If this had been a real life, you
would have been given instructions on where to go and what to do.

Erik, the BFG
-- 
     "All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain."
			Roy, _Blade Runner_
Erik Nielsen					erikred@ocf.berkeley.edu