From: ccc_spt@waikato.ac.nz (Simon Travaglia)
Newsgroups: rec.humor
Subject: THE BLACK BUCKET #44 Blacksmiths Forge
Date: 8 Apr 92 10:00:58 +1200
Organization: University of Waikato Computer Centre

--------cut here--------

"Like a trooper..."

"A STATE trooper?" the Queen asked.

"No no" I apportioned, as I had rarely apportioned before, apportioning for
an opprtunity one might bad-grammatically say.  Or not, perhaps, if they were
running an English Lit, C- average and it was the last essay of the term,
entitled "What I did to my family with a tyre level during my Christmas
Holidays" and you were an apportioning ametuer.  Or was it Ameteur, I never
knew?  But I did know how to apportion, and I was apportioning now, believe
me.

"Apportion, Apportion" I said to break the monotony.  (See, I told you I was
apportioning didn't I?"

"Abortion? Abortion?" the Queen Screeched "What do you know of Charles?"

--------no, cut here--------
I had her by the long and strandies and she knew it.
I smile knowingly.
She reaches behind her and pulls a and industrial vacuum enlarger from out
of a drawer close at hand. 

"Abortion this" she says reaching for the power switch

Knowing I'd probably be sucked to oblivion, I decided to bluff it.

"Do you know what I'm wearing?" I ask, speaking very quietly

She pauses; I've got her again.  She has to know, otherwise it won't work,
the pleasure and pain will be incomplete.  "Where?" she asks, moistening her
lips in anticipation.

--------look, if you're going to cut anywhere, cut here--------

"Underneath my body armour.." I say, smiling that smile of mine again (You
know, the smile that you give the police when they break into your house,
trying to catch you watching X-Rated Swedish films about Cheese Making in
the early 1920's but you've got one of those .001 second START videos, and
before they can make it to the TV you're watching re-runs of "Little House
on the Prairie" whilst simulatneously vomiting all over the floor (it's a
side-effect, but what the hey) and the other Video machine has dissappeared
into the secret tunnel they used to use to smuggle goats out of the monastery
next door during the depression.  That smile.)

The queen bites - she's just got to know; What AM I wearing underneath the
armour?  Is it the sweat-soaked singlet that Sigourney Weaver wore to kill
the Alien and boost ratings in ALIEN?  Or maybe it's the Redneck favourite
"USA - LOVE IT OR I'LL KILL YOU", or maybe it's something different.  Maybe
it's just a sloganed T-Shirt - "I choked Linda Lovelace" or "My other car
is an armoured" or maybe even the queens favourite "Corgi riders from Hell"

Whatever it is, she'll never know, her crown slips over her eyes and covers
her view - I kick the enlarger out of her hands just as charles walks in -
it catches him on the ear as it switches on...

"NOT AGAIN!" he wails as I rip the queen a couple in the stress-fractured
corset and make a run for it.

I'm sprinting down the Main hallway as the Queens personal guard, armed with
automatic weapons (believe it!) rush down the passagway beside me. 

--------I was going to cut here--------
I've got maybe 10 seconds till they get me - there's only one thing for it!
I grab a fistful of drapes and stuff them up my shirt, leaving tail to hang
out all round my body in a skirt.  I then rush face first at the wall 3 or
4 times till my face becomes swollen and discoloured.  Just in time, I reach
through the flimsy structure of a plot and pick up a microphone from where
I'd hastily written it.

They arrive, I spun round to face them, and speak.

"The Queen's bodyguard, are they the fit sexual athletes that we've been led
to believe?  Will they really poke anything in a skirt?  I'm OPRAH, and I'm
hear to find out...."

As the terrified screams disappear into the distance, I discard my disguise,
step over the discarded weapons and make my way to episode #43...
-- cut --


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Disclaimer:  I didn't do it, I'm a helicopter!
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Quit while you're ahead.  You may not get another chance.
Xref: sparky rec.humor:16240 alt.fan.monty-python:2781