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From the creators of Star Trek, the Next Regurgitation... From the mind that spawned an argument simulator... There comes... S I X M E N A N D A B A N A N A --------------------------------------- ----------------------- ------- A NEW THUMPING GOOD TRANSDIMENSIONAL, TIME TRAVELLING, PASTIE EATING, LEMMING FLATTENING, NETWORK CRASHING, CRAMP INDUCING TEXTFILE BASED ON A FEW KEYBOARD FREEKED LUNATICS AND... A BANANA It`s one- thirty- PM, which is quite a coincidence because the story starts in room D-130 at the Henley College. D-130, by the by, is the computer room, as borne out by the sign on the wall, which reads: HACKERS HAVE DENS GRAPHIC ARTISTS HAVE LAIRS SYSOPS HAVE DOMAINS!! --------------------- In the Room, Steve "The Mad Hippo And Part- Time Local Gravitational Anomaly" Lake is working on a Silly C Program. Bog "Conifer Tree" Hennessy-Barrett is working on a silly picture involving lemmings, vaseline and Yaks. There are assorted nonentities doing relatively unimportant things with the various Psuedocomputers scattered around. Steve is having a problem with his current proglet... STEVE: BUGGER! Steve is a fun, fun fellow. Almost totally silly, with an eternally happy outlook on life, until he gets angry, he is most renouned for being able to catch buses. Literally. This phenomenon is due, in most part, to his ability to generate an instant 6000 metres per second squared acceleration in any direction. Given enough Coke and sugar, that is. His other talents include squashing things, and making totally logical constructs do totally illogical things. He is, in short, the ultimate Amiga owner that Evolution could possibly have produced. BOG: Problem? Bog is... Bog. Too tall for most shoes, too longhaired for most glasses, too violent for most vending machines, Bog`s primary method for expressing himself is to strafe the object in question, and bayonetting people with Hypothetical Bayonets. Bog`s most spectacular ability is the capacity for taking a mundane, menial task, and turning it into an excuse for not doing anything more like work. This minor failing is made up by the fact that when it comes to boring tasks (EG, maths or boring parts of Physics (Equations, but not detonations), he has a head like a sponge. As a further peep into his Psych Profile, he is lemming- obsessed and F-16 posessed. Another Amiga Phreeeek, his pet love is insulting PC owners. STEVE: MY BLOODY PROGRAM ISN`T WORKING! Now, Steve makes a critical error. He stamps his foot in frustration. The building quakes, and windows shatter. A mousepointer is jolted clear off one screen and lands on the desk with a sound like a winded lemming. On the other side of the globe, six million chinese people are bounced into orbit. Just at that moment, in should walk Nick Hatton. Most people call him Nick, but his freinds call him Nik. Y`see, he doesn`t like the "S" sound in the middle, to rhyme with Disk. That`s the sort of person Nik knows. The really odd thing about him is the flight path ladder and gunsight etched on his specs. And the fact that he gets contrails off his knuckles. The current totally, utterly, unutterably odd thing about him is the fact that he`s covered with fine white plaster dust. NIK: Steve, is there a problem? STEVE: How did you know? NIK: Well, Bob (The lekkytronical teach) just got brained by a lump of combo readybrek/ plaster, and everything`s covered in fine white dust downstairs, plus the fact that six million chinese people are now orbital sushi. STEVE: Ah. So that`s how you could tell. I`m having trouble with my C. BOG: What, does it keep stock still, and the beach washes up and down? Everybody throws large, hefty objects at Bog, who ducks, allowing it all to hit The Kevin which just at that Most Opportune moment entered. THE KEVIN: Aaaaaaooooowwww. Ha ha ha. Good joke everybody! Sadly, Kevin U. Palmer (The "U" standing for "Uuuuhhh....") is under the delusion that everyone likes him, and just pretends to want to kill him. However, if you swapped the operative words in the above sentence, (Like and Kill), you would arrive at the truth. Another home truth is that if you know The Kevin, you will already mentally have done this, and also substitude the word "Sadly" for the word "Hilariously". Nik examines Steve`s sourcecode. NIK: Oh, no wonder!!!! STEVE: What is it? NIK: You`ve written this like we were taught to! That`s why it`s not working! If you just do the reverse of what Graham said, you`ll be allright! STEVE: Okie dokie, matey. BOG: (Aside to Camera): Now the real reason that Steve`s program doesn`t work, is because it was written on an IBM clone. If it had been written on an Amiga... YOW!!! Nik wipes the blood off of a suddenly- dented keyboard and carries on talking to Steve. NIK: Dead simple. Just pretend that you know precicely nothing about C programming. STEVE: Uhhhhhhh.... OK. Steve whips out his Big Silver Roar Gun and riddles the monitor and CPU box with hypothetical bullets/ rockets/ Lemmings squeaking "Fire" and napalm. NIK: Perfect! It`ll work now! Lo and behold, the screen goes blank, and a banana drawn in ANSI graphics appears. BOG: Now, if you`d handdrawn that in DPaint 4 on an Amigaaaaaaghghghghghhh! Nik pulls a PosiDrive out from underneath Bog`s shoulderblade, wipes it on the carpet and reinserts it in his pocket. After some gasping, Bog manages to get himself upright in his seat. BOG: You`re just jealous. WHUMP! (Squidge) BOG: Whhaaaaaaaargggghh! Ye BASTARD!!!!!!!! Leaping from the chair, he takes Nik down in a tangle of mice, headphone cords, glasses, tape streamers and PCs. A cloud of dust obscures the proceedings until finally there is only one person left standing. And that`s Steve, who has been brassbanding "In The Mood" during the fight. NIK: Goaaar, that was fun. BOG: Can`t thank you enough, old man. Been moons since I`ve had a decent scrummage. Fookin` great. Three minutes of sorting out glasses, headphones, cables, body parts and assorted fractures later, the twain retire for a relaxing fag and another enlivening round of personal insults. The sound of grunts, clangs and thudding body blows reaches us from outside. Steve shakes his head sadly, and continues with his Banana Simulator program. All in all, a totally gnormal day at Henlej College. Must remember to change back from the Swedish kejmap. But, as our heros are soon to discover, even the ones I haven`t written in yet, today is not just your common- or- garden Collij day. STEVE: (Pushing buttons) Oh, my god! NIK & BOG (In Dolby B): What? STEVE: We`ve got a new server, and nothing`s wrong with the Net. Just as he speaks, The Kevin utters that Dread Phrase: THE KEVIN: Hey everybody, I`ve just done something really interesting! NETWORK: Dwwwwwweeeeeaaaarrrrooooooouuuuuughhhhhhh, kerthunk. All the monitors darken. The lighting gets dimmer, and the temperature drops five kelvin, but then if you had an armload of kelvins and that happened, you`d probably drop some of them as well. ALL EXCEPT THE KEVIN: !>ohshit<! (Hushed) THE KEVIN: Hey, wow, I didn`t expect THAT to happen! ALL: (Still hushed) ?>what<? THE KEVIN: (EXTREMELY loudly) THE NETWORK`S CRASHED!!!!!!!!!! ALL: (Relaxing), Oh is that all? (Etc) No quantum- level disturbances? No wars starting? Nobody faffing around with transmission (wince) lines? THE KEVOID: Naaahhhh don`t be silly. Nothing like that ever happens in real life! Everyone suddenly goes silent, and looks toward the camera ominously, then to a big lighted panel on the computer room wall. (---------------------) | | | D A F T C O N 5 | | | (---------------------) All wipe sweat off foreheads, and breath sighs of relief. PATINGGGG! The sign changs to: (---------------------) | | | D A F T C O N 4 | | | (---------------------) And everybody starts acting nervously, looking over their shoulders, and under desks and thing looking for anything Out Of The Ordinary. STEVE: Maybe the sign`s broken? NIK: If the sign`s reading wrong, how do you explain it`s presence here any way? Did we always have a Sillyness State Indicator on the wall? STEVE: Uh, I can`t explain it. I just hope it`s wrong! BOG: Twiddle dee dee. A ByStander looks worried. Nik notices this. NIK: (Reassuringly) Don`t worry: He`s always like this. BYSTANDER: You mean that`s supposed to reassure me? NIK: Good point. BYSTANDER: OK. (Bystander points). BOG: Caution, all personnel: Daftcon State Four has just been justified. Daftcon State Four has just been justified. You can stop taking life too seriously, `cos you can bet your arse it`s stopped taking you that way. STEVE: It generally takes me with a grain of salt. NIK: Jammy sod, all I get is a glass of water! ALL: G R O A N N N N N N! KNIGHT WHO SAYS NI: Ni!!! Nick Clayton enters, and everyone swings through 180 degrees and sticks their fingers down their throats. Disk crawl out of diskboxes and hide under keyboards, and a muffled gunshot from the SysOp`s office marks the fact that Alastair just can`t take any more. Ser Clayton is everybody`s favorite: The guy who can make anybody`s program his own baby, and always does. The progenator of the phrase "Vorsprung Durch ASCIIEditor, as we say in D132". He`s also known as The Great One, on account of being, essentially, a fat bast. BOG: Serves Alastair right for taking me off the CP directory. I`ve wanted to do that for ages. NICK: Awight? (Inner tube jowls slapping the sides of his head with the sound of two six- hundres- foot radius waterbombs willed with orange jelly impacting once every point- eight seconds) NIK: We were. STEVE: Sort of. BOG: Oh fuck. THE KEV: Now I am. N/S/B: You fucking joking? THE KEV: Ah, well, you see, Nick here is the only one here who knows all the keyboard shortcuts to every windows application ever written. STEVE: Yeah, `cos he wrote `em all! NIK: Last weekend. BOG: At four PM. S/N/B: I N G E R M A N ! ! ! ! NICK: Dutch, actually. Nik, Steve and Bog collapse with laughter. ADVERT TIME! A man and a woman are cudled up on a soft sofa in front of a lovely warm fire. Their lips draw near. Suddenly, the bloke burps, then pukes all down the gel`s cleavage. The legend TREVOR`S BLADDER SALTS: FOR THOSE... DELICATE MOMENTS appears. Fade. There`s a youngish looking bloke sat in total darkness except for a glowing screenful of assembly language instructions. His eyes are strained, haggard and monitor- irradiated. VOICEOVER: Sometimes, you just feel as if you`re at the end of your tether. The deadline for the next scrap of code is ten hours away, failure means the end of your career, and you`re stuck. Total brain- lock. You don`t have a chance in hell of getting that substructure right. There`s only one solution. The progger pulls a gun from his pocket, puts it to his temple, and blows the contents of his head all over the monitor. VOICOVER: Remington: When you just can`t take any more from life, our .22, .38 Special and .44 Magnum calibre cartridges won`t let you down. Fade back to the SIX MEN AND A BANANA logo. Craig is walking down the corridor leading from Norcot Centre to Lekky labs, and he has a syringe stuck behind his left ear. In one hand he holds six mars bars, and in the other a can of Coke and a pair of skis. Freind Craig Bapty is an oddbod. This is the person who has become so attatched to the character he plays with during roleplaying games, that he has come to beleive that he DOES in fact have meshed skin and bone, cybernetic eyes, and a sodding great titanium alloy arm, with hidden rocket launchers. This makes taking the piss out of him great fun, `cos he whips his right arm up at you, chenches his fist, then yells "BUGGER!" then rams a screwdriver into it to find out what`s wrong. Sad.... As Craig approaches the doors at the end of the corridor, there is a muffled BLAM from behind him, somewhat reminiscent of an Iain- sized object suddenly displacing it`s volume in air. Craig turns. IAIN: Bugger. Missed the lab again. As with most of the Henley College Crew so far, Iain is gnot gnormal. Iain is always... lurking. Lurking and plotting. Plotting and Scheming. Plus, that odd faculty of self- displacement through The Cirucits of Time, which he`s been doing much, much more of recently. (Ed: Check out Bill&Ted`s Henley College Adventure [C] 1992 Hippo Enterprises) Craig simply looks baffled and continues down the corridor to the computer room. As he climbs the stairs, he hears another BLAM from above him. On entering the computer room, Iain is up to his knees in floor. Or the carpet is up to it`s eyeballs in Iain, depending on your point of view. Nobody has noticed this apart from Craig yet. CRAIG: Iain, what the fuck are you doing? IAIN: Missing the bloody electronics lab again! I bet you anythign that any minute now, Bob`ll turn up with the carpet I displaced downstairs. BOB: Does anybody know how this bit of carpet appeared inside my Thermos? IAIN: Told you so! Craig holds his head in his hands, (Clatter, clatter, splooosh, and sound effects for six marsbars impacting on the floor which I haven`t cooked up yet.) and gibbers. BOG: Steve, d`you reckon it`s worth walking up that bloody hill just to sit in tutor for five minutes and then spend forty minutes waiting for maths to start? STEVE: Uh, no. BOG: Me either. Both Bog and Steve turn back to their respective computers for exactly four point seven zero three nine six seconds, then turn with pricise simultaniousness to look at Iain drumming his fingers on the floor whilst standing vertically. Nik turns to ask Steve something, and notices that Steve isn`t interested in being asked anything at the moment, and sees what`s got his attention. NIK: Oh, SHIT! Even Nick Clayton is speechless. IAIN: What? BOG: Iain, Iain, Iain, you`re, like, part of the floor, dude! IAIN: So I`m a lousy shot. So what? It`s perfectly normal to commune with carpets nowadays, you know! STEVE: Wooooahhhhh..... NIK: How the HELL did you get there? IAIN: I got distracted. CRAIG: Whine. STEVE: If this is DAFTCON 4, I`d love to see DAFTCON 0. BOG: Believe you me, you really, REALLY don`t want to. IAIN: Whyever not? BOG: It`s disturbingly like being on TV. CRAIG: Do I want to know why that`s so terrible? BOG: Ever seen the Twilight Zone? NIK: Oh, SHIIIIIIT!!! Even Iain is looking worried by now. BOG: But don`t worry. We`ve only got, what, two hours `till the buses come. Gareth sticks his head around the corner, and Iain`s natural SEP field successfully deflects his attention. GARETH: Yeah, but then we have to wipe it off! ALL: Baaa! Baaa! Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! GARETH: Allright, allright, no need to get rude. ALL: BULLSHIT! GARETH: Smartarses.