From: daniel@yoyo.cc.monash.edu.au (Daniel Bowen)
Subject: TOXIC CUSTARD WORKSHOP FILES #130
Followup-To: rec.humor.d,aus.jokes.d
Summary: Elvis don't read Toxic Custard
Reply-To: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu
Organization: Monash University, Melb., Australia.
Date: Mon, 11 Jan 1993 04:24:24 GMT


                             ___     __
TOXIC                    |  /   \   /  \         11th January 1992
    CUSTARD              |    __/  |    |       Written by Daniel Bowen
          WORKSHOP       |      \  |    |
.................FILES...|..\___/...\__/.......................................

    Let us make one thing clear. Elvis *is* dead. I should know - I
killed him. It was back in those heady days of the late seventies... You
know how it is, you're in the backyard of the block of flats, 'cos you're
only seven years old, playing cricket with a bunch of people you don't        Y
like, but hey, they're the neighbourhood kids, so you have to play with       i
them to keep up that illusion of peaceful coexistence.. Inevitably some       k
smart-arse with the cricket bat, who probably *owns* the cricket bat (so      e
in other words, he makes the rules), manages to hit the small soggy grey      s
tennis ball (it was dry and yellowish one summer three years ago) flying      ,
over the fence.
    So, after much arguing, you're bullied into going to get the ball by      I
the bully, who has swiped the bat and is swiping most of the other kids
with it... and you don't want to end up in intensive care... which is         t
where you think you'll end up if you don't get the ball back pronto... so     h
you climb the old rickety wooden fence, picking up about five splinters       i
in the process, into the overgrown garden next door.                          n
    You know it's overgrown, because at that age, the grass comes up to       k
your neck. And you've seen those stupid wildlife shows talking about
snakes living in long grass, so you're scared shitless of being strangled     t
by a python, or bitten by a tiger snake, and you're wishing you hadn't        h
worn shorts today, even though it's forty degrees in the shade.               e
    You see movement ten feet to your left, somewhere in the grass, and
you spot the tennis ball, no doubt displaced for a moment by a passing        r
snake. So, grabbing a nearby hanging branch from one of those lethal          i
looking plum trees that looks like it would stick two dozen thorns in you     g
if you even considered climbing it, you edge your way to where you            h
thought you last saw the ball. And all the time, behind you, six pairs of     t
eyes edge their way over the fence, looking for any movement from the         -
house that the garden is attached to.                                         h
    The ball is there. You reach for it carefully, wary of any poisonous      a
snakes or spiders, or wild animals like leopards or cheetahs which may at     n
any moment leap out at you and tear you to pieces. Such are the fears of      d
little kids. You throw the ball back over the fence, and start to run to
safety, when the worst possible thing happens. The back door of the house     m
runs, and the grumpy fat man who lives there comes out. And he says:          a
    "Son. Whatcha doin'?"                                                     r
    "Just getting our ball back, Mr Presley."                                 g
    "Son. Now that ball was flyin' over my grass... Now... I want that        i
ball."                                                                        n
    And he starts to waddle forward, and you're terrified, and all your
friends are yelling "Come here, come on!"... and you run back to the          i
fence, throwing your stick away, and start to scramble over.                  s
    What do I hear behind me as I climb the fence? Oh God, the stick has
flown into Mr Presley's head and implanted itself in his brain! And now a     t
big snake has leapt out of the tree and is strangling him! And blood is       r
spurting out everywhere, and he's screaming garbled words, "Are you           y
lonesome, but lay off of my blue seude party at the county jail..." and       i
so on.                                                                        n
    So we all ran for our lives. Back over the fence, Mr Presley came to      g
a rather unpleasant end. And we always played cricket in the *front*
garden of the block after that. And we never went after wall-leaping          t
tennis balls ever again. Well, it could happen to anyone, couldn't it.        o
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
                                                                              i
MR POPSICLE RETURNS - Part 11: The Briefing                                   n
                                                                              v
Inspector Sideburn, who was getting sick of this case, was handing it         a
over to newly arrived Mr Popsicle and Inspector Unnecessary-Violence of       d
the Australian Royal Security Establishment. The case, which was              e
beautifully leather covered with lovely brass locks, had been annoying
Sideburn since the very early episodes. He just never seemed to get           t
anywhere with the case. After a while he had realised that this was just      h
how the author had written this story, but it still annoyed him somewhat.     i
    It annoyed Inspector Unnecessary-Violence somewhat too. He'd been         s
doing something very enjoyable before being interrupted for this case. He
couldn't remember what he had been doing, but he was quite sure it had        s
been fun.                                                                     p
    Popsicle was less annoyed. Although he'd been watching Drop The Dead      a
Donkey when called up for this, he usually looked forward to new and          c
challenging investigations with relish, mustard, and a couple of pickles.     e
    So, in the briefing room of Dung Hill Police Station, which was one       .
of the best rooms in the building for a briefing, the briefing began.
    Sideburn, with the aid of complicated diagrams of the crime scene,        I
lots of glossy 8x10" photos with a label on the back of each one, and         t
numerous bags full of evidence, explained the whole story for the benefit     '
of the ARSE team, and for any readers who might have forgotten the            s
original plot.
    "While the traffic lights were fiddled with to stop the armoured          d
truck, a huge gun was waved in the faces of the driving guards, who           e
opened the door of the van."                                                  f
    "An inside job then?" suggested Inspector Unnecessary-Violence.           i
    "Why do you say that?"                                                    n
    "Oh, I don't know. It just seemed like an intelligent thing to say."      i
    "Erm. Right", continued Sideburn. "We think they escaped on bicycles,     t
but we lost them a couple of kilometres away, where the trail of dropped      e
money stopped."                                                               l
    "Leads?" asked Inspector Unnecessary-Violence.                            y
    "Erm..." said Sideburn, looking half at him, half at Popsicle.
    "Don't worry about him", said Popsicle, "he's been on a debriefing        m
course: 'How to get 90% of the information at a briefing using just 7 key     o
phrases'."                                                                    v
    "Forensic?" asked Inspector U-V.                                          e
    "Leads? Well, I did get a tip that Jake McGiggin might be involved.       d
But if he was, he wouldn't tell me. Which I thought was quite reasonable,
in the circumstances", replied Sideburn, rubbing a bruise on his neck.        s
    "Any previous?"                                                           i
    "Well Sideburn", interrupted Popsicle. "We'll see what we can do on       n
this one. I think we may be able to show you a thing or two about solving     c
crime, too. Anything else we need to know, Inspector?"                        e
    "Witnesses? Reward posted? Informants?"
                                                                              l
AND SO, WITH INSPECTOR UNNECESSARY-VIOLENCE STILL ASKING SHORT, QUICK         a
QUESTIONS, AND NOT WAITING FOR ANY REPLY, WE LEAVE POPSICLE UNTIL NEXT        s
WEEK, WHEN THE *REAL* MYSTERY BEGINS. HAVE A NICE WEEK.                       t
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
                                                                              w
TOXIC CUSTARD *BASTARD OF THE YEAR* (BOTY) 1992                               e
Keep those nominations flowing in! You have until this Friday, the 15th       e
of January to put in nominations. The voting will begin next week.            k
Nominations please to tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu (or reply to this posting).         .
                                                                              .
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~       .
Copyright (c) 1992 Daniel Bowen.
--
Daniel Bowen, Monash University |
Melbourne, Australia------------|   Just when you thought it was safe
daniel@yoyo.cc.monash.edu.au----|  to buy an atlas... CZECHOSLOVAKIA!!
TCWF stuff: tcwf@gnu.ai.mit.edu |
From: blanch@hpcupt1.cup.hp.com (David Blanchard)
Date: Tue, 12 Jan 1993 01:45:29 GMT
Subject: Re: Californicate
Organization: Hewlett Packard, Cupertino