Banana Apocalypse and the Rocket Pants of Destiny
by Emily Short (2001)
Genres: Humor
Science Fiction


action: %
response: Great. Just great.

You had big plans for this evening. Romantic plans, involving candlelight, strawberries, and your favorite superhero, EnigmaGirl, whom you have finally gotten to agree to a date... And you were going to show her your new design, too.

But getting out of here with your pride and your prototype rocket pants isn't going to be easy with MonkeyMan Shatner breathing down your neck.

Copyright 2001, Emily Short

The great assembly floor of 'Rockets, Sprockets, and Pants,' which stretches in every direction as far as the eye can see. Particularly to the north, where some of your buddies with the propulsion labs work.

South lies the Way Out.

Before you sits your desk.

On the desk are a pair of rocket pants (which are closed).

MonkeyMan Shatner is here, breathing just left of down your neck.
action: Examine
response: What do you want to examine?
action: About you
response: As good-looking as ever.
action: You examine the desk
response: A huge steel contraption styled like a vintage Cadillac. Its capacious drawers contain all that you require in your work, and spiderlike robot arms hover above its surface to help you in your manufactury.
The desk is currently switched off.
action: You examine the pants
response: Your ticket out of here.

Not now, in the literal sense, but later, in the eventual sense. These are of your design and your construction: breezy, kicky styling that all the girls and guys will be crazy for, capacious cargo pockets, and a pair of afterburners you wouldn't BELIEVE.

The rocket pants are currently switched off.
action: You look at Shatner
response: William Shatner used to have this job after things went awry over at Priceline, but now it's pretty much done by an extra in a monkey suit. Hard to tell the difference, really. He just goes around and bugs people.

Also, for reasons best not explored, he's wearing a little French beret, to which he is strangely attached.
action: You turn on the desk
response: No need; you're done for the evening.
action: You turn on the pants
response: Turn those things on inside? That'd be suicide!
action: You get the pants
response: Taken.
action: Look around
response: The great assembly floor of 'Rockets, Sprockets, and Pants,' which stretches in every direction as far as the eye can see. Particularly to the north, where some of your buddies with the propulsion labs work.

South lies the Way Out.

Before you sits your desk.

MonkeyMan Shatner is here, breathing just left of down your neck.
action: You ask Shatner about the pants
response: "Yes, I am already well-aware of zis contraption, M. Whatever. Believe me, I am not in ze least impressed."
action: You ask Shatner about yourself
response: He yawns broadly.
action: You go north
response: "Monsieur ... um. Surely you do not mean to LEAVE with zis COMPANY MERCHANDISE???"

The correct answer, for the uncertain, is to shake your head slowly. Which you do.
action: You check your inventory
response: You are carrying:
a pair of rocket pants
action: You wear the pants
response: You slide the pants on. They fit like... like a glove for legs.
action: Go north
response: His little eyes are WATCHING you. Everywhere you go.
action: You buy the pants
response: Nothing is on sale.
action: You take off the pants
response: You take off the rocket pants.
action: You hit Shatner
response: EnigmaGirl would be SO DISAPPOINTED in you.
action: You look at Shatner
response: William Shatner used to have this job after things went awry over at Priceline, but now it's pretty much done by an extra in a monkey suit. Hard to tell the difference, really. He just goes around and bugs people.

Also, for reasons best not explored, he's wearing a little French beret, to which he is strangely attached.
action: You drop the pants
response: Dropped.
action: You go north
response: So-called even though the only thing they really do around here is throw stuff at people. Also, they work better hours than you. In other words, everyone's gone home for the day.

A largeish contraption points south.

A banana rests on the floor nearby. Someone's lunch, no doubt.
action: You get the banana
response: Taken.
action: You examine the banana
response: Sadly green.
action: You look at the contraption
response: It looks as though, if you put the least little thing in it, that thing will be hurled with great force. DANGEROUS, the crap they keep around here. One day you're going to be KILLED.
action: You put the banana in the contraption
response: With graceful force, the banana arcs into the air, over the nearby desks, unmistakeably in the direction of MonkeyMan Shatner.

What happens next is a little hazy. First of all, the Ride of the Valkyrie starts up on the factory intercom. Second, a pair of hitherto unnoticed and generally locked doors at the east end of the factory opens up. Third, in comes a cavalcade of nude polo players. They stream through like the area like the Naturalist Apocalypse, departing through hitherto undetected and assuredly not-available-for-your-use doors to the west.

When the dust clears and the music ends, Shatner is gone. All that remains is his beret, staked to the back wall with a single banana.
action: You go south
response: The great assembly floor of 'Rockets, Sprockets, and Pants,' which stretches in every direction as far as the eye can see. Particularly to the north, where some of your buddies with the propulsion labs work.

South lies the Way Out.

Before you sits your desk.

You can also see a pair of rocket pants (which are closed) here.
action: You go to the south
response: The Out Escalator -- one way transportation for people on the go. It's pretty jammed at this time of evening, all your coworkers in their green and yellow uniforms jostling each other to get out...

You scoot along the automated OUT escalator until you arrive at...

One look at the parking lot tells you what you might already have guessed: the traffic is going to be backed up from here to the Schuykill Expressway, and if you have any plans to meet EnigmaGirl in a timely fashion, you'd better find another way than in you trusty automobile.

What it comes down to is this. How much do you trust your own mad stitching skillz?
action: You turn on the pants
response: There's an exhilarating vibration all around your-- er-- hmm.

Well anyway, you blast off, is the main point. To the accompaniment of loud cheers and honking horns. And soon find yourself...

You're currently in midair some hundreds of feet over the Schuykill River. Off down and kind of to the southwest, you can see your front yard.
action: Go southwest
response: You descend with more abruptness than majesty, right through the sticky limbs of your tree...

Characterized by a large tree. Otherwise, it's pretty much just a patch of dirt that you haven't gotten around to seeding. The rocket pants have been your life, night and day: you haven't got time for mundane gardening.

Just to the west is the front door of your lovely abode.
action: You go west
response: What, without switching off the rocket pants? You'll set the crepes suzette on fire. Ahead of time.
action: You turn off the pants
response: You switch the rocket pants off.
action: You go west
response: Prepared for the evening in advance. You may be an engineer, but you do have a spark of romance in you: the candles are already laid out on the table, the bottle of wine is chilling, your CD player is ready-prepared with romantically Enigmatic music. In honor of the occasion you've cut a large question mark out of sparkly cardboard and hung it from the ceiling. It's these little touches a girl will appreciate.

You could sure use a shower, though.
action: Wait
response: Just as you are about to wait, the doorbell rings!

You fling it open and in she walks. "Hello, Mister-- uh--"

"Grisham," you say hastily, "just Grisham, though if you don't like that my middle name is Peter, but--"

"Hi." She shoots you a sparkly smile. "I guess I don't need to introduce myself, right?"

You swallow. Introduce herself? Half the energy you put into this date was in the form of scraping her publicity pics off every available surface... The place does look a little bare, come to that.
action: You examine EnigmaGirl
response: She looks... stunning. Sheathed from head to toe in a black lycra bodysuit, the question-mark picked out in silver on each sleeve; her hair drawn back and her lovely eyes concealed by a pair of dark shades.

"So, like," EnigmaGirl says, looking around nervously. "You said you had something you wanted to, like, show me?"
action: Show pants to EnigmaGirl
response: "Oooh!!" Her eyes light up and she takes the pants from your offering hands. "May I?"

Confidently she steps into them and zips them up. Funny how well they fit her-- but then, you made them self-adjusting pants. "The way they work is --"

"I think I know how they work, geekboy," she says, her smile flashing. "I've only been scheming to get my hands on them for the past two years." Her hands smooth down the pockets and she checks herself for wrinkles in the mirror. "God, nice styling."

"You should see the way they--"

"Fly? Don't worry, I will."

"But, um, wait up a sec, okay?" You smile nervously. This isn't going quite as planned. "I'm supposed to take them back, I just wanted to show you but if I lose them my job is gone, they are very valuable PROTOTYPE PANTS..." You find yourself talking with greater and greater rapidity as she strides towards the door and flings it open. "Who're you trying to kid, loser? Do you think I came on this date because I wanted to see YOU?"

And with those cruel words, she's gone in a khaki flash.
action: Describe the surroundings
response: Three days later, you're sitting in Your Abode, shredding your cardboard question mark with your bare hands and watching tv from the comfort of unemployment.

All the news is full of EnigmaGirl and her daring aerial rescue of Antonio Banderas. And all you can do is weep.
action: You look at your surroundings
response: Prepared for the evening in advance. You may be an engineer, but you do have a spark of romance in you: the candles are already laid out on the table, the bottle of wine is chilling, your CD player is ready-prepared with romantically Enigmatic music. In honor of the occasion you've cut a large question mark out of sparkly cardboard and hung it from the ceiling. It's these little touches a girl will appreciate.

Nothing else to do now but wait.

You can see an EnigmaGirl here.

EnigmaGirl shifts from one foot to the other, looking a little impatient and uncertain.
action: You wear the pants
response: You slide the pants on. They fit like... like a glove for legs.

"Okay, like, fine." Evidently tired of your futzing around, she takes off... leaving you ALONE and overendowed with useless pantsage. Story of your life.
action: You describe your surroundings
response: Prepared for the evening in advance. You may be an engineer, but you do have a spark of romance in you: the candles are already laid out on the table, the bottle of wine is chilling, your CD player is ready-prepared with romantically Enigmatic music. In honor of the occasion you've cut a large question mark out of sparkly cardboard and hung it from the ceiling. It's these little touches a girl will appreciate.

Nothing else to do now but wait.

You can see an EnigmaGirl here.

"Okay, like, fine." Evidently tired of your futzing around, she takes off... leaving you ALONE and overendowed with useless pantsage. Story of your life.
action: You go north
response: So-called even though the only thing they really do around here is throw stuff at people. Also, they work better hours than you. In other words, everyone's gone home for the day.

A largeish contraption points south.

A banana rests on the floor nearby. Someone's lunch, no doubt.
action: You go south
response: The great assembly floor of 'Rockets, Sprockets, and Pants,' which stretches in every direction as far as the eye can see. Particularly to the north, where some of your buddies with the propulsion labs work.

South lies the Way Out.

Before you sits your desk.

On the desk are a pair of rocket pants (which are closed).
action: You take all
response: desk: That's fixed in place.
action: You wait for a while
response: Time passes.
action: Break pants
response: Dropped.

Violence isn't the answer to this one.
action: You look at your surroundings
response: You're currently in midair some hundreds of feet over the Schuykill River. Off down and kind of to the southwest, you can see your front yard.

You can see a pair of rocket pants (which are closed) here.
action: You go east
response: You can go only southwest or down.
action: Go downward
response: You descend with more abruptness than majesty, right through the sticky limbs of your tree...

Characterized by a large tree. Otherwise, it's pretty much just a patch of dirt that you haven't gotten around to seeding. The rocket pants have been your life, night and day: you haven't got time for mundane gardening.

Just to the west is the front door of your lovely abode.
action: Go upwards
response: Just leaving the rocket pants in the front yard is an invitation to theft by the wily.
action: Look around
response: Characterized by a large tree. Otherwise, it's pretty much just a patch of dirt that you haven't gotten around to seeding. The rocket pants have been your life, night and day: you haven't got time for mundane gardening.

Just to the west is the front door of your lovely abode.
action: Describe the surroundings
response: The great assembly floor of 'Rockets, Sprockets, and Pants,' which stretches in every direction as far as the eye can see. Particularly to the north, where some of your buddies with the propulsion labs work.

South lies the Way Out.

Before you sits your desk.
action: You go to the south
response: The Out Escalator -- one way transportation for people on the go. It's pretty jammed at this time of evening, all your coworkers in their green and yellow uniforms jostling each other to get out...

You scoot along the automated OUT escalator until you arrive at...

One look at the parking lot tells you what you might already have guessed: the traffic is going to be backed up from here to the Schuykill Expressway, and if you have any plans to meet EnigmaGirl in a timely fashion, you'd better find another way than in you trusty automobile.

What it comes down to is this. How much do you trust your own mad stitching skillz?
action: You wear the pants
response: You're already wearing those!
action: You turn on the pants
response: There's an exhilarating vibration all around your-- er-- hmm.

Well anyway, you blast off, is the main point. To the accompaniment of loud cheers and honking horns. And soon find yourself...

You're currently in midair some hundreds of feet over the Schuykill River. Off down and kind of to the southwest, you can see your front yard.
action: Go southwest
response: You descend with more abruptness than majesty, right through the sticky limbs of your tree...

Characterized by a large tree. Otherwise, it's pretty much just a patch of dirt that you haven't gotten around to seeding. The rocket pants have been your life, night and day: you haven't got time for mundane gardening.

Just to the west is the front door of your lovely abode.
action: You look at tree
response: You've never been much for botany. It could be just about anything.
action: You climb the tree
response: Whatever kind of thing it is, it is not a climbable kind of thing. Oh well.
action: Go inside
response: You can go only west.
action: You go west
response: Prepared for the evening in advance. You may be an engineer, but you do have a spark of romance in you: the candles are already laid out on the table, the bottle of wine is chilling, your CD player is ready-prepared with romantically Enigmatic music. In honor of the occasion you've cut a large question mark out of sparkly cardboard and hung it from the ceiling. It's these little touches a girl will appreciate.

You could sure use a shower, though.
action: You get the pants
response: You already have those.
action: You get all
response: table: That's hardly portable.
action: You look at the table
response: Okay, so it's a folding table. You usually eat standing over the sink. What of it, anyway?
action: Wait
response: Just as you are about to wait, the doorbell rings!

You fling it open and in she walks. "Hello, Mister-- uh--"

"Grisham," you say hastily, "just Grisham, though if you don't like that my middle name is Peter, but--"

"Hi." She shoots you a sparkly smile. "I guess I don't need to introduce myself, right?"

You swallow. Introduce herself? Half the energy you put into this date was in the form of scraping her publicity pics off every available surface... The place does look a little bare, come to that.
action: You go outside
response: But you aren't in anything at the moment.

"So, like," EnigmaGirl says, looking around nervously. "You said you had something you wanted to, like, show me?"
action: You check your inventory
response: You are carrying:
a pair of rocket pants (being worn)

EnigmaGirl shifts from one foot to the other, looking a little impatient and uncertain.
action: Show table to EnigmaGirl
response: (first taking the table)
That's hardly portable.

EnigmaGirl shifts from one foot to the other, looking a little impatient and uncertain.
action: You turn on the pants
response: Turn those things on inside? That'd be suicide!

"Okay, like, fine." Evidently tired of your futzing around, she takes off... leaving you ALONE and overendowed with useless pantsage. Story of your life.
action: You ask EnigmaGirl about the pants
response: "Sounds fabulous! May I see?"

"So, like," EnigmaGirl says, looking around nervously. "You said you had something you wanted to, like, show me?"
action: You ask EnigmaGirl about herself
response: There is no reply.

EnigmaGirl shifts from one foot to the other, looking a little impatient and uncertain.
action: Kiss enigmagirl
response: No no, you've got a careful strategy all worked out here. The way it works is, you win her undying admiration, THEN sweep her into your manly arms.

"Okay, like, fine." Evidently tired of your futzing around, she takes off... leaving you ALONE and overendowed with useless pantsage. Story of your life.
action: You take all
response: EnigmaGirl: I don't suppose the EnigmaGirl would care for that.
table: That's hardly portable.

"So, like," EnigmaGirl says, looking around nervously. "You said you had something you wanted to, like, show me?"
action: You show yourself to EnigmaGirl
response: (first taking yourself)
You are always self-possessed.

EnigmaGirl shifts from one foot to the other, looking a little impatient and uncertain.
action: Punch enigmagirl
response: Are you out of your mind?

"Okay, like, fine." Evidently tired of your futzing around, she takes off... leaving you ALONE and overendowed with useless pantsage. Story of your life.
action: Y.
response: Great. Just great.

You had big plans for this evening. Romantic plans, involving candlelight, strawberries, and your favorite superhero, EnigmaGirl, whom you have finally gotten to agree to a date... And you were going to show her your new design, too.

But getting out of here with your pride and your prototype rocket pants isn't going to be easy with MonkeyMan Shatner breathing down your neck.

Copyright 2001, Emily Short

The great assembly floor of 'Rockets, Sprockets, and Pants,' which stretches in every direction as far as the eye can see. Particularly to the north, where some of your buddies with the propulsion labs work.

South lies the Way Out.

Before you sits your desk.

On the desk are a pair of rocket pants (which are closed).

MonkeyMan Shatner is here, breathing just left of down your neck.
action: You go north
response: So-called even though the only thing they really do around here is throw stuff at people. Also, they work better hours than you. In other words, everyone's gone home for the day.

A largeish contraption points south.

A banana rests on the floor nearby. Someone's lunch, no doubt.
action: You go east
response: You can go only south.
action: You go north
response: So-called even though the only thing they really do around here is throw stuff at people. Also, they work better hours than you. In other words, everyone's gone home for the day.

A largeish contraption points south.
action: You go to the south
response: What, leave without the pants? They were the whole point! You're going to show them to EnigmaGirl and she's going to understand that you're the one, you're the guy with the brains and the heart to be HER man. And then you'll be turning up in a tuxedo at all her superhero events and somehow look considerably more like Antonio Banderas and...

Anyway the point is you'd better snag the pants before you leave, or the rest of the evening is shot.
action: You get all
response: sky: You can't reach from here.
action: You examine the sky
response: A cloudless bowl, pale blue.
action: You get the tree
response: That's hardly portable.
action: You get all
response: sky: You can't reach from here.
large tree: That's hardly portable.
action: You ask Shatner about EnigmaGirl
response: "Let me tell you zomezink, my friend. Zat girl, she is dangerous. She has been tryink for years go get her hands upon zese rocket-pants..."

And in a few brief words (marshalling, nonetheless, some compelling evidence), he shatters your illusions forever. So much for love, so much for justice, so much for black lycra and sparkly kisses. She's only in it for the publicity. You know that now. And you'll never be taken in again.
action: You go south
response: The great assembly floor of 'Rockets, Sprockets, and Pants,' which stretches in every direction as far as the eye can see. Particularly to the north, where some of your buddies with the propulsion labs work.

South lies the Way Out.

Before you sits your desk.

On the desk are a pair of rocket pants (which are closed).

MonkeyMan Shatner is here, breathing just left of down your neck.
action: You show the banana to Shatner
response: The MonkeyMan sneers at your pitiful offering. "Zis banana ees harder zan a roque," he says.

"A what?"

"A roque!"

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you, I've--"