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"Smart move", says John Cusack as he smiles at you - "You've picked the right guy. Now which celebrity shall we knock out in a good old fashioned brawl?"#425 Smack Ellen. by Richard
You ponder this.
Will you say?
"Whitney Houston"
"Ronald McDonald"
You launch a huge, swiping slap at Ellen who goes flying into the wall with a sharp "CRACK!" As Ellen slowly slides down the wall unconscious, you turn to Emily smiling.#424 pBrJIGxdBiJUFECAl by lwQeqJWv
"Want to make out?" you say, leering and gesturing with your head towards your empty cell. "Mel Gibson has cleared off, we won't be disturbed."
Emily doesn't answer but points behind you - "Guard!" she shouts and you turn to see a burly Prison Guard approaching, drawing his night-stick. He looks down at the crumpled body of Ellen then stares intently at you and Emily.
"Who did this?" he shouts angrily. "Answer!"
Blame Emily
Blame Mel Gibson
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Gunfire! The watchtower guards have overcome their awe at last. There's a quaver in the tractor beam and then you hit the floor. Your body pounds against the harsh unyielding stone tiles. When you look up again, the mothership has vanished.#422 Wait patiently (for real this time). by phetus
You're sprawled on the stone floor, the grooves of the tile pressing into you insistently. Mel advances toward you again. Rivulets of his excitement spatter on the riven stone, and run into the tuckpointed crevices of the tile-work. Transfixed, you run your fingertips along the smooth bevelled lines. Something's not flush. Unbidden, your fingers worm their way into the imperfection.
Oh my! The grout is still moist. Your breath catches, and you lift the mass. This is no slender tile. This is more like a paving stone, so solid and heavy. It's been calling to you all this time. It's beautiful. Smash Mel with your mighty brick
Deflower the floor
After only a minute or two he comes back. "Ok, Mrs. Khanna," he says. "If you could follow me I'll take you to your case worker's office."#421 "Um, I'll have a bacon cheeseburger, large chocolate shake, a double order of fries," by phetus
You get up and follow him out. You can't help but think to yourself, what was the point of coming into his office? No matter. You walk back through the call center into yet a different hallway. On the right you see an open door. The suited man stops at the door and waives you in. "Mrs. Khanna, this is Nina," he says. "She's my best case worker. If you have any problems or need any other kind of help, let me know, ok?" You nod and he steps out.
"Hello, Rinke," Nina says to you.
"Hi." You shake her hand. She seems very nice so far. She has a sort of pleasant, soothing demeanor but not in an obnoxious or condescending way. She's moderately attractive and in maybe her forties. Her office is average. There are pictures on her desk and there's a normal amount of clutter.
"So, I've looked at your file," she says.
"And?"
"And..." She pauses. She seems to be in thought, like she's choosing her words carefully.
"Look, what I really want are answers," you plead. "What is this place? I mean, I know I'm dead. At least I think I'm dead. But what happens now?" "Ok," she begins to explain...
"Ok," she begins to explain...
He looks at you, puzzled.#420 Make a fuss. Demand to speak to the owner! by The Inprisoner
"I was kidding!" you say.
Another blank stare. After an awkward moment he forces a chuckle at your joke. "Oh ok, Mrs. Khanna."
You try to force back the swelling anger. You consider letting out another shriek before gaining control over yourself. "I want someone to explain to me what's going on here. Just what is this place? What are these forms for? What is happening to me?"
"Well, it's rather complicated," he says. "If you could just wait for us to process your paperwork a case worker can expl-" He stops and realizes that you're not going to buy this answer. He must be able to read the look on your face. "Look, I'm the regional supervisor here and I'll get someone to help you right away. Why don't you come and wait in my office?"
Finally, some respect. You follow the suited man out of the waiting area through the door he came in. You look back at those lesser celebrities still waiting with pity and a healthy feeling of superiority. "Right this way, Mrs, Khanna."
The hallway is rather bland. On both sides there are various office rooms. At the end of the hallway is what looks like a large call center. You follow him through passing along a huge stretch of cubicles. You try to eavesdrop on the calls. Unfortunately you can't seem to make out anything more than a word or two of what anyone is saying. You think you hear someone say the words "plane of existence" in there somewhere but aren't sure. After another hallway you come to his office. You feel like you've been shown the back way in, like a true VIP. It must be the effect this supervisor or whatever wanted to instill in you.
"Have a seat," he says.
You sit down on the designer couch in his office.
"Can I get you anything. A drink maybe?"
"No, thank you," you decline.
"Ok, Mrs. Khanna, I'll be right back." Wait patiently (for real this time).
Snoop around in his office. It looks nice.
You promised your mom that you'd give the compliance thing a fair shot one day, but man, this experiment is done. You begin emitting a shrill screech that sends Dead Chris Farley and dead other celebrities covering their ears with their hands, then madly scrambling for something more corporeal to cover their ears with. After about a minute, most of them are lying dead -- doubledead? -- on the floor, their brainstuff having leaked out of their ears.#419 Ahem... i'd like to remind you that this is a sidequest and you'd much rather just get out of here alive... er... well... you want to get out of here at least. by The Inprisoner
Soon thereafter, a man in a three piece suit emerges from the back with an elaborate device attached to his head to cover his ears. As you continue screeching, however, his body starts vibrating more and more violently. "..." he says. Hm? Oh, maybe you just can't hear him over the racket. You stop screeching. "May I help you, Mrs. Khanna?"
"I certainly hope so! If not, I'll be forced to tell all my dead celebrity friends that you forced me to murder this entire room."
"That won't be necessary, Mrs. Khanna. What are your demands? Um, I mean, how can we assist you?" "I just want you to process my paperwork in a timely manner. Honest."
"Um, I'll have a bacon cheeseburger, large chocolate shake, a double order of fries,"
Shrug. If that's how you want to play it.#418 I'm compliant. I'll fill out the forms by phetus
You quickly find an unlocked window and climb through it. There are guards outside, but they don't notice you because you're dead. You are out of Celebrity Prison! What now? Star in a major Bollywood motion picture about ghosts.
Try to start up a side-career as a dead pop singer.
You fill out your forms patiently and hand them to the lady at the counter. She looks through them briefly. "It'll just be a minute to get these processed. If you could have a seat over there, miss. We'll call you when we get to you."#417 Make amends by picking her some flowers. by phetus
You take a seat. The other dead celebrities take notice of you as you try to ignore them. A few minutes pass and then one approaches you. "Hey, what's your name?" a chubby man says.
You continue to ignore him.
"I'm Chris. Chris Farley." He seems polite at least. "Tommy Boy? Saturday Night Live," he says. "Any of this ring a bell?"
Eww, it's a comedian. How could such a lowly celebrity dare speak to the likes of you? No matter. Just keep ignoring him, Rinke.
More time passes. You're a patient woman but this is getting absurd. "Miss," you say to the woman behind the counter. "Miss!"
She looks up at you. "Can I help you?"
"Yes, how is my paperwork coming along?"
She looks annoyed now. "We're very backed up today," she says in a monotone voice. "If you could just take a seat, we'll get to you as soon as we can." This is ridiculous. You've been waiting for minutes now and you don't even know what for. Make a fuss. Demand to speak to the owner!
Sit down and chat with what's his name, Chris. He'll know what's going on.
After finishing your milk and cookies you and Mel go outside looking for flowers. Mel flies ahead as usual and you follow. The Australian countryside is especially pretty today. "Look, kangaroo paw," he says. "Mom's favorite."#416 He's just lonely. Try to make friends! by phetus
"Perfect!" You and Mel land and begin grabbing up as many as you can hold in your pincers. "Mom's gonna love these."
You rush home and hand the flowers to bug mom. "Oh, you boys are so thoughtful!" she says snatching them quickly from you. She forces her proboscis into the first flower and begins sucking away. It's dry almost immediately. She moves onto the next and then the next, devouring all of the sweet nectar quicker than you thought possible. "Oh my," she giggles. "Mommy got a little excited. You boys run off and play."
"Yes, mom," you say in unison. Go play outside.
Go upstairs and find your bug dad.
"Dance? Okay," you say to Archimedes. "I'll dance with you." You bust a move with the robot spinning around together. Surprisingly, it seems to perk up.#415 "*Wheeze* Is that ... the best ... you can do?" by phetus
"Dance dance!" it says. This is sort of fun. The two of you carry on for a while like this.
"Say, Archimedes, you got any music to dance to?" The robot pauses. Suddenly a holographic projection pops up from its chest. It's a menu with a catalog of music. You're able to thumb through it in the air. There's a huge selection to choose from. Pick an oldschool rap song.
Pick a classical song.
She reaches back with her nightstick to take another swing. You wince in pain covering your face. "Okay okay," you plead. "I'm just kidding."#414 I'm getting out of here. Let's try the room that doesn't stink to high heaven. by phetus
She doesn't look amused. You look into her eyes trying to find another angle, some exploitable weakness that will set you free. Then you see it. Hanging from her neck like a golden ticket to paradise. A key, a master key, a skeleton key. "They don't really make master keys, do they?" you think to yourself. Either way, it's your best shot at freeing your brother.
"Okay, Donal," she says. "Back to your cell for real this time." Play along and go back to your cell.
Grab for the key! You can take her.
The guard is so frightened he doesn't even notice you're not following him anymore. You step aside into a small room. Actually more of a closet, you realize, after looking it over. A janitorial closet to be precise. Shelves full of chemicals and cleaning agents occupy three of the four walls. The other being the doorway. The smell of shit is replaced with that of ammonia.#413 No, let him put his career first. by The Inprisoner
Ammonia. You remember that smell also. Not from using it, of course. You mainly remember how upset you were with your servants when they couldn't clean in more pleasant, olfactory manner. But never mind that now.
Chemicals! There must be something useful here. Something to get this body fully animated. You rummage through them. Try using the ammonia.
Try using paint thinner.
You and Bug Mel Gibson grow old together. Over time you grow distant, because you never quite had the children you wanted so much, but on the whole, you can't say it was bad life. One day, you're making the usual small talk over the usual breakfast, when Mel crushes his glass of orange juice in his pincer. You look up from the newspaper and see his thousand eyes oozing tears of frustration.#412 Better leave it alone. It could be dangerous. by The Inprisoner
"What's wrong, honey?" you ask.
"What happened to us, Donal? What happened to the two of us?"
"You know as well as I do, Mellie," you say, reaching out to gently brush his mandibles with your fingers.
"Tell me. Just tell me what it is, for once."
You take a deep breath. It would be good to get it out in the open.
"Kids. I always wanted kids."
Bug Mel Gibson stares back at you. "Really? I really, honestly had no idea. I always thought it was because I was a bug!"
Oh no, he always was sensitive about that. You hug his chitinous thorax. "No, no, never," you say. "I love you just the way you are. I always have."
"Larvae..." he says. "I never knew. I would've had them, if you wanted. I would've put my career aside. I always just wanted you to be happy."
Your jaw hangs open. You don't know whether to feel joy at affirmation of love, or sorrow at the loss of what you could've had. "How could you not know? I was always subscribed to those maternity magazines."
"You were also subscribed to Bug Mel Gibson Loather Monthly."
A fair point. "Maybe... we can adopt?"
"The loathing thing... it's what I always loved most about you."
Seriously. You close the panel and write a polite note apologizing for breaking the robot, and tape it to the service panel door. Then you lie down on your prison bunk and go to sleep. It's been a long, strange night, but tomorrow is another day!Less recent nodes
You wake up to see the robot dancing, its fiery red eyes mere inches from your face. You can feel the intense heat behind them.
"Hey, Archimedes," you say. "How long have you been dancing there?"
"Dance dance dance," Archimedes says.
"Uh huh." Call for help. This robot's crazy!
He's just lonely. Try to make friends!