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- ---+-------+ slinky edition number 02 - released 02/18/96 +-------+--- -
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_ _________ ___ > /_____/ /_\ _______
_____ /_ /_\/ _ < / ___\ \
_ _____<__ /___/ / < \ \ _ \ > >___ _
\ < < < \___\ >\ \ __ <
\_________\____\_____\ mD_/__>___________\
- ---+----------------------------------------------------------------+--- -
- ---+ "editorial: donuts are fun" by, cerkit & belial
ok, hello. welcome to another exciting issue of slinky. the slinky
staff has decided to release during the middle of the month. that is not do
to any internal problems but rather a feeling of distaste towards all 'zines
being released at the same time, which currently is what has been happening.
we now have a ftp site, which will be given later in the editorial.
both submissions and feedback can now be directed to a new email address -
slinky@blandest.com.
this issue of slinky, as are all issues, is generally set to a topic
which is found within the submissions we are given. however, we're still
accepting any and all of your funk. please be sure to submit, however
anything which makes it in must go through the deadly "belial's editor
cutting board". he'll scream, rape, burn, tear, kill and coax your article
to its pretty slinky state.
the staff of slinky magazine would like to give a special "clap,
clap" to the 'jonas' editor tom sullivan (edicius) who, in his spare time,
managed to get his point across to several media based individuals in a
local newspaper. a clipping of an article of 'jonas' made it into the
paper, and moreover, next to a cartoon of a geekin' tiger who said the word
"slinky" in the cartoon.
the net, what net?
slinky has made it to the net. we still don't have a www page yet,
but we're working on it - give it time. however, we do have a spiffy new
ftp site:
ftp.prism.net /pub/text/slinky - (thanks, teletype.)
we are _always_ interested in receiving feedback from our readers,
please send us some mail at either:
cerkit@groovie.prism.net or b3lial@cybercomm.net
the internet isn't the thing for you? great, call up the slinky
voice mailbox at 1 800 925/9999 - ##317. still not interested? well
then, get down with the bbs thing and dial up avalon at 908 739/4274. also,
"alfheim forest bbs" at 908 473/1287 or "that stupid place" at 215 985/0462
will have new slinky releases.
oh, so you do dig the 'net. well then, visit our "official" irc
channel - #slinky! (we also visit #zines, but they're all lamers. =)
-+--- ------ - -
as we stated last issue, we are _not_ going to be greeting people in
slinky. however, once again, if we were to greet people, we would greet
black francis, cm, creed, edicius, fartslayer, grey hawk, ilsundal, jamsey,
kurdt sharon (love connection), lucifer, metal chick, mindcrime, mogel,
fuckin' ores, pip, teletype, captain cool himself - racer x, RaD Man, tMM,
rhonda, sistanoman, sharon, gweeds, u4ea (great poem, hoe 90), and emmanuel.
-+--- ------ - -
we hope you enjoy this issue of slinky. please send us feeback, we
are _always_ interested in hearing what you have to say.
belial & cerkit - "are you going to hump that?"
- ---+----------------------------------------------------------------+--- -
dim vales - and shadowy floods -
and cloudy-looking woods,
whose forms we can't discover
for the tears that drip all over
huge moons there wax and wane -
again - again - again -
every moment of the night -
forever changing places -
and they put out the star-light
with the breath from their pale faces.
about twelve by the moon-dial
one more filmy than the rest
(a kind which, upon trial,
they have found to be the best)
comes down - still down - and down
with its centre on the crown
of a mountain's eminence,
while its wide circumference
in easy drapery falls
over hamlets, over halls,
wherever they may be -
o'er the strange woods - o'er the sea -
over spirits on the wing -
over every drowsy thing -
and buries them up quite
in a labyrinth of light -
and then, how deep! - o, deep!
is the passion of their sleep.
in the morning they arise,
and their moony covering
is soaring in the skies,
with the tempests as they toss,
like -- almost any thing -
or a yellow albatross.
they use that moon no more
for the same end as before -
videlicet a tent -
which i think extravagant:
its atomies, however,
into a shower dissever,
of which those butterflies,
of earth, who seek the skies,
and so come down again
(never-contented things!)
have brought a specimen
upon their quivering wings.
-- "fairy-land" by, edgar allan poe
- ---+----------------------------------------------------------------+--- -
- ---+ "the adventures of pa and jr: chapter 1" by, belial
down here on the farm, pa and i like to live the simple life.
"you base, cattle humpin', lisp havin' hick," they say to us in town,
when me and pa go to visit the the general store. pa an' i don't pay them
none attention, i guess you'd get used to it after a while.
i'm a thinkin' man, yet i always tickle my brain a'wonderin' why the
the general store ranks so high in tha army. not to be offensive or
anything but i just don't see where as a store is needin' to be a general.
mayhap, an' i think i'm right, but maybe it'd be a whole new plough of
silver if it was being called the the lieutenant store.
anyway.
one day pa an' i were doing "our thing," as them people in town all
do say, an' we heard us a ruckus to wake up a hedgehog in the middle of
july. so an' i says to pa, "look over there, i'll be hit with a stack of
corn in a mole field; them hogs gone done took over tha farm."
so an' my pa looks at me an' he says, "son, i'm sorry, but nip me in
tha rear with a featherless turkey, but din's gonna be late havin' today."
bein' tha compassionate, kind soul i am, i says to my pa, "don't
worry you none, pa. help me husk this here corn an' we'll roast it up an'
eat it down 'till tha moon gets slick and we're laughin' silly, whistlin' in
tha corn fields."
bein' brave an' a good like man, my pa says to me, all proud, "no,
son, bein' as how you're my responsibility an' all, it's up to me to take
tha farm back."
"take that there stick there laying on tha ground an' hand it to me,
so as we can get goin'." pa says to me.
"you gots you a plan, pa?" i asks as i bends over and grabs a big
stick.
"yes, son i do - i do figure as how we can win back tha farm."
"whats we gonna do, pa?" i asks.
"that's what i didn't quite figure out yet."
"but you just done gone tell me you had you a plan."
"what i dids an' what i says are two entirely different things."
"then how we gonna win back tha farm from them hogs?"
"well, boy, if you shut you up for a minute, i'll think us up a good
plan."
i'm the respectful sort, so i shuts me up for a minute.
"did you think up a plan yet, pa?"
"now damn, boy, i says give me a minute of silence."
"i already dids." i argues back.
"well then... gimme another minute. you've gone and messed up my
concentration."
not wanting to cause any problems, i decided to clamp my yipper.
however.
after looking at the look on my pa's face, i couldn't help it none
but to laugh like a wombat all strung out on fried gumby.
my pa then starts squintin' down at me. "what you laughin' at, boy?"
chucklin' one last time i says, "nothin'."
he keeps squintin' down at me, like his face was all stuck.
"i said nothin'."
"well, keep you quiet or i ain't ever gonna be able to think us up a
plan."
"sure, pa." i says, gettin' over my fit.
he started makin' that face again, but i held back from laughin'.
kickin' a rock i says to pa, "i sure do miss the farm."
"eurika."
"don't you mean 'eureka'?" i asks, all confused and such.
"whatever. i gots us a plan good enough to win us back our farm."
"you gonna tell me what it is?" i asks, interrupting my pa in his
moment of glory.
"oh alright, boy, listen you good."
"i sure am gonna, when you tell me it."
he brings his head near mine's an' starts a'whispering after a
minute. i just flat out couldn't take none more.
"i can't hear a dang thing you be sayin'. speak you up a bit, pa."
"damnit, boy, now listen."
"well, i couldn't none hear you."
"if you weren't yappin', you'd have heard me good. now shut you up
an' listen to what i gots to say!"
i took my scoldin' like a man, but i didn't none like it. "sure,
pa."
"now, this is what we gonna do," be begins, usin' the stick i gave
him to map out the farm in the dirt.
__________________________________________________________________________
|\ /| ______ |
| \ / | | | |
| \ __________ / | |______| <- tha shed |
| / \ | |
| / \ | _ |
|/____________________\| <- tha house |_| <- tha outhouse |
| | *** * *** | - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - |
| |________________| | @ <- corn @ |
| * @ |' @ |' @ |
| * <- hogs | @ |' |' @ |' |
| |' @ |' @ |
| | O <- pa. |' |
| o <- jr. the corn field. |
|______________\ /________________|______________________________________|
"there we are, son, right down there in tha bottom of tha corn field.
over there on tha front porch are tha hogs, an' up there is tha shed an' tha
outhouse."
"so what is it we gonna do?" i asks, lookin' at the map.
"well, i figure..."
- ---+---------------------------------------------------------------+--- -
- ---+ "distraught television god" by, jestapher
i remember the day vividly, it is the darkest time ever i've known.
confusion engulfed me. how could it go so wrong? why did it happen to me?
my creation went astray. i intended it as a port of high morality and
knowledge, and it deceived me.
the television consumed my time on it's path to perfection, and while
others' creations finished before mine, none were as sophisticated or
promising. seeing as this was the sole purpose of myself, creation, i
wanted to make the best. i was an instant celebrity upon its completion.
everyone gathered around to see the television. but i lost all respect when
they found out i had no control over it and it was chaotic.
i couldn't bear being beside the television. all the images it was
pouring forth burned me with sadness and anger. i had to get out. on my
way, to where i don't know, i met someone. he had the same problem as i.
he made an array of creations, and bundled them together. it seems that his
first creation, humankind, took so little time and was so unsophisticated
that he decided to make a suite of creations to make up for it. his initial
creation went astray just like mine.
he told me an interesting story about what he did. instead of
letting them lead a life of low morality with no reparations, he created a
place for them where they were aware of the path to high morality but had to
struggle to stay upon it. what an idea! i thought it would be pointless to
create my own, so i asked him if i could package the television among his
cast of creations. he was ecstatic to get such an offer, but he would only
allow it on one condition: that i limited the power of the television. i
would have done anything at that point, so i agreed. now my creation lives
with all the other deviant creations in a world of chaos.
sometimes i wonder if i should have ever created the television.
- ---+----------------------------------------------------------------+--- -
- ---+ "beth" by, arifel
towards the end of her afternoon lesson, beth overheard one of her
mothers receiving a phone-call from someone off-world. she hung back just
behind the kitchen door, hoping that she'd hear something that her parents
wouldn't want her to hear; unfortunately, she only caught the last minute
of the discussion.
it was from a man whose name (which her mother spoke in an
exasperated tone) was cyrim; he was, apparently, her uncle. uncle cyrim?
she didn't know she had any uncles! she listened intently; the very fact
that they'd concealed this uncle's existence from her meant that his company
was worth cultivating. her parents were straights; good-natured, kind and
careful not to jeopardise their parents' license, but unimaginative, bland.
dull as carbon dioxide.
"come on, i've been away for over six years... and it's not as if
i'll be on earth long," the other voice said. it wasn't trying to talk her
mother into anything; it sounded more joking than anything else.
"i've already said that it's fine by both of us if you visit -"
"- but you don't want me staying with you. that's okay, i usually
stay at the studio. i'll be by on sixday, around sixteen."
"_try_ to behave like a citizen, please?" he laughed and the
connection beeped softly as it was closed.
sixday - that was tomorrow! before anyone could catch her
listening, she went back to her terminal and continued working on a
painting. as she smeared pixels about on the display, she wondered if he
meant the anarchartist studio. it would make sense that her mothers
wouldn't want him around if he was in with that crowd...
it appeared that she wasn't going to be given the chance to talk to
uncle cyrim; at least, not the way she wanted to. a formal dinner had been
set up as a kind of barricade, to protect her from untoward influences. she
almost managed to follow the convoluted train of argument they used to make
it sound like it was to her benefit. she knew better than to argue.
she'd dressed in the clothes they'd set out for her - shapeless,
baggy, faded grey denim coveralls - and had resigned herself to an evening
of being "good".
none of them had factored her strange uncle into this equation.
it was sixteen point two before he arrived. through the door
display, she saw him in the hallway, talking animatedly to a hulkingly tall
alien with a t-shaped head. to her shock, her uncle suddenly kicked the
xeno in the shin; in return, it slapped him a roundhouse blow to the side
of his head, almost knocking him over. just then, marianne (her foremother)
gently pulled her aside and opened the door. after waving to the alien
without any trace of hostility, he entered with an unfamiliarly dramatic
sweep.
he was aged somewhere in his late twenties or early thirties,
unfashionably long hair, thinning at the front, dyed an unlikely shade of
crimson. physically, beth could see the resemblance between him and
marianne; she'd heard enough complaints from her foremother about trying to
control her weight to see that cyrim had the same metabolism. however, his
bizarre clothing more than made up for his dumpy physique. he wore a
knee-length coat made of some shiny black material, sewn together,
seemingly, without using a pattern; asymmetric seams ran in all directions,
dodging the many bright silver grommets and studs that held it all together.
his baggy pants were made of the same material except somewhat more
structured in form. his feet were bare; toenails painted the same shade of
red as his hair. every so often, the folds of his coat would part enough
for her to see a t-shirt with curling alien text written on the front in
glowing purple. he carried a draw-string bag made of some bright, metallic
cloth that shifted colour whenever she wasn't looking, odd shapes inside
bulging out against the material enticingly.
after a brief, awkward pause, cyrim and marianne hugged. she held
his shoulders, pushed him back and regarded him dubiously.
"what were you two arguing about out there? that xeno looked like it
wanted to take your head off." cyrim laughed.
"his name is jamie, and he's a dakha. they're a very old, very
socially convoluted culture; a lot of their kinesics are based on
ritualised violence, and he was just saying goodbye." his attention lighted
on her; his expression brightened significantly. "and this must be beth.
you _have_ grown! i'm sorry if this seems a little, uh, inappropriate - i
only found out that you were twelve years old yesterday." he gave marianne
a mock frown. "i found it on sthelanar and i thought you might like it
anyway." before marianne could protest, he'd opened the draw-string bag,
produced a small box and had given it to beth. she accepted it and made the
polite bow her parents had taught her, ducking her head slightly.
"thank you, uncle." he gave a look of mock-pain at this.
"oh, please, don't call me that. it makes me feel twenty years
older!" she smiled to herself.
"yes, uncle." he made a wry face at marianne.
"well, i know where she gets _that_ from." seeing marianne's doubt
at the gift, he explained (with a tone of patient condescension that even
beth could hear); "it's harmless. entirely passive. the technical term
for it is an entropy-informatics resolution and display meter." he kneeled
before her, gently took the box from her and pointed out the raised gold
circles on the side. "this is the level control; you can turn it between
zero, which is empty space, and one, which is complete chaos. you won't
usually see anything at either extreme; the interesting stuff is in the
upper-middle range, around zero point seven two." he turned the box around
and held it up for her; unlike the other sides which were decorated with
swirling patterns in copper on black, this face was completely blank. he
indicated a second contact, moved her finger over onto it. as she touched
the cold metal, the end of the box came alive, showing what looked like the
surface of a sun, an unusual yellow-green colour, solar prominences leaping
up slowly. it was bright, but not uncomfortably so.
to marianne, cyrim explained further: "there are about a dozen
different scales which can be adjusted, but the safety level isn't one of
them. it's always set at maximum, so nothing that can harm her can possibly
be displayed." marianne looked somewhat mollified at this.
the dinner was an odd experience. josie (her other mother) and
marianne made it painfully obvious that cyrim's open discussion of the alien
worlds he'd lived on were in poor taste; beth vacillated between obedient,
surprised distaste at his disregard for what were obvious indicators of
topics he should avoid and her decidedly un-straight interest in what he was
saying.
"i've been living on sthelanar for the past three years. you know,
they were the only civilisation apart from the moridani that the nosannoos
couldn't subjugate? when the bythians landed there, the population had all
vanished. the bythians left and they came back again... the bythians went
back, and they vanished again. they kept this up for thousands of years
before the bythians got tired of it and agreed to leave them alone.
personally, i think the nosannoos were trying to learn something from
them - they're the most capable mathematicians around, it seems." he
gestured towards the box, which beth had placed next to her plate, the
powdered-lime sun still glowering from the end. "that device was given to
me by the head of the dormitory. the sthelane have been modifying
themselves for so long, this one actually looked like a dining-room table,
one that spoke perfect terrestrial. he'd been working on entropy
informatics for hundreds of years, all of his work going towards making that
box... and when he'd finished it and got it working, he just gave it to me
and said, "you'll know who to give it to." of course, my first thought was,
"beth will love this..." he smiled at her. josie cleared her throat and
asked again,
"are you sure it's harmless?" cyrim tried to conceal his impatience.
"if it was dangerous, the nosannoos wouldn't have let me take it off
the planet." this was enough for josie, who was the kind of straight who
believed everything the government told her. she simply looked on while
marianne and cyrim debated interdiction policies and beth surreptitiously
fiddled with the controls on the box. the sun-scene faded, to be replaced
by an unusual variety of comet, one with two tails. she adjusted the
controls again, but couldn't find anything more interesting than a long-shot
of a small moon showing violent volcanic activity. she turned it off.
it was just after cyrim had left that she found the card he'd slipped
into her pocket. she took it to the privacy of her room and bent it in
half, activating it. the card snapped back into shape and cyrim's face,
drawn in tiny, vaguely flesh-toned hexagons, appeared.
"i thought i should tell you about the other controls," the card
said. "the fourth and fifth ones fine-tune the complexity. it's set very
low at the moment, which is why you're probably only seeing scenery. if you
turn it up a bit, it'll pick up more complex forms. living systems. even
further up, and it'll show complex living systems, like civilisations."
given the low resolution of the card she couldn't be sure, but his
expression seemed bemused. "experiment with the other controls. you'll find
out which ones work best." the colours on the card faded to pale grey.
immediately, beth turned the box on and cautiously brushed her index
finger against the fourth circle. the display swirled crazily and cleared
to show a meadow which seemed to be set on the side of a very steep incline.
the parts of the sky she could see were bright green. she deftly adjusted
what she'd come to call the "zoom" control and brought the scene closer.
the grass was actually finger-thick strands of crimson foliage, in
which hundreds of tiny creatures played. she watched the six-legged mice
gambol and leap about for hours. she carefully scanned the setting so she
could reset the device to show this scene again later.
fine adjustments of the fifth circle seemed to produce wildly
different scenes, many of them showing cities of one kind or another, with
hundreds of different species of beings inhabiting them; yet many of the
scenes were of unadorned grey boxes the size of underground rail cars,
sitting on concrete circles. if the settings were any guide, these boxes
were representations of a high level of complexity. outwardly, they seemed
very boring.
inevitably, she found the combination of settings which showed earth.
excitedly, she zoomed in on the southern hemisphere, waiting for the daytime
view to cycle around to the continent on which her city lay. it was harder
than she thought to find the city, but once she'd located it, very easy to
locate the building in which she lived.
the building looked subtly different to the views she'd glimpsed when
their av was landing on the roof. she panned down the side of the building
to the ninth-floor landing, then in through the window to her room. she
looked around abruptly, almost expecting to see either a holographic camera,
or perhaps some disembodied alien eye peering at her. of course, there was
nothing there.
the room looked different, too. her school-terminal was on the wrong
side of the bed; there were clothes all over the place, hanging from rails
which didn't exist in the real world, posters which she didn't recognise on
the walls and ceiling. she glanced up from the end of the box, examined her
room, looked back. it was the same room, but... different. according to
the display, she wasn't lying on the bed looking at a box.
as she stared at it, the bedroom door on the display opened and she
watched herself enter... was that her? it looked older, at least twenty
years old. the figure in the display had much longer hair and was dressed
in a fashion that her mothers would definitely not approve of. and this
older person - this other, older beth - was with someone else, holding
hands with another girl with a bright purple sweep of hair and laughing
eyes. they sat down on the end of the bed, hugged...
while beth lay on the bed and observed them with wide eyes, marianne
peeped at her through the home video system, saw her rapt attention and
smiled.
"i guess cyrim isn't that bad after all," she murmured.
- ---+----------------------------------------------------------------+--- -
- ---+ "subnifty" by, cerkit
the cold heart in heaven of what was once the slinky deity held no
truth in our reality. he had been comatosed and... for so much time in
mental limbo. his return was set to occur only when he had the power to
defeat the now "zines-dewds" whom had defeated him. it was no surprise to
him, he was proud to find that "his" people were the one's who could defeat
him. slowly he had concocted a new plan, a plan that he knew had the
ability and potential to force cerkit into a complete vulnerable position.
the plan held a very harsh realization, a realization cerkit would
have to defeat, an inner conflict he would have to battle. with such a war
at hand, we find the present day with cerkit.
-+--- ------ - -
the slinky held a rather funny position today. rad.org was running
diagnostics on him at a constant rate to be sure he couldn't get beyond his
inner casing. scrap and airborn slowly crept into the radioactive aardvark
dung and slinky building, where they knew the slinky deity was being held.
"way wacky flashback scene."
scrap - slinky, he has power! we're lamers now, but if we steal and
free the deity... airborn, we would become the new masters. the
#zines rep's we always wanted!
airborn - you gotta be sure, we face much humiliation if we fail.
airborn - just look at my name, it's a wonder i don't face constant
humiliation.
scrap - be quiet and get yourself together, we're leaving shortly.
"way wacky scene return."
scrap attaches a dtmf decoder onto the keypad at the parking lot
enterance. airborn watches as scrap enters nine thousand different
passwords until he gets the door open. then, finally:
"kliq!"
airborn - lets go!
scrap - i am, be quiet.
slowly they diverted around each corner of security, finally
reaching the deity's inner chamber.
all of a sudden:
"awooguh!@# awooguh!@#"
airborn - holy heinekin's, scrap, it's the alarm.
scrap - wacky. lets get the hell outta here, but first, lets save
the deity.
scrap busts the glass case entraping the deity, and escapes through
the air venting systems.
airborn happily follows.
-+--- ------ - -
back at the home of scrap.
scrap - yeah, mom, just shut up!
airborn - we'll have to revive it, it doesn't seem particularly lively.
airborn was correct - for once. the deity had been comatosed and
it would need some quick boost of energy for it to become at the very least,
concious.
scrap and airborn collected items from around scrap's house until
they had an object capable of charging the slinky. slowly, minute by
minute, power surged through the slinky.
then quickly and nearly unnoticeable to the tired eye's of scrap and
airborn, the slinky began to move. he shuttered at first, then stretched
himself. by this time, scrap and airborn were found fast asleep. cerkit,
belial and mercuri initiated a apb for the slinky and started to investigate
the nights events to figure exactly how they were "hacked".
meanwhile, the slinky was becoming more and more like his old self.
mental transit became a possibility again, and so the slinky set out sending
his commands to cerkit.
"cerkit, the slinky speaks, you must listen."
what the fuck? the slinky is back in my head, but how? no fool who
would capture him would revive him - would they? they'd have to be _the_
two dumbest individuals ever.
"cerkit, don't deny me. gather those who are worthy and meet me at
the dummmercon site. AND THIS I COMMAND!"
uhg, i can't withdraw. i must follow his lead, lest i be left with
this agony infinitely.
and so, cerkit gathered those the deity insisted.
-+--- ------ - -
at the dummercon site.
"lets be reasonable, mogel. i've made you the new advocate, the most
worthy, and it was by my hand that such occured. lest it become real to
you, all is lost."
mogel - wha?
m0rph - cerkit's got attitude.
"now, i come with news, news that will not only shock you, but
implore your helping me."
cerkit - we'll never follow you!
mogel - chill cerkit, let the slinky talk.
m0rph - jive us.
"my race, the people i am of, have come for me. they are calling me
a criminal - a criminal of epic proportions by earth standards. this will
cause the dying of the 'zine scene, as well as all of your positions
therein, and your measly and useless lives."
mogel - woah-o.
m0rph - i phear.
ores - geeks.
"i must relay this to you with urgence. my people will destory you.
they want no part of "our" 'zine scene ideas coming to other worlds.
however, your people deserve such graces. it is sad, however that increased
exposure to terrain environment has caused me severe mental damage."
-+--- ------ - -
scrap - hey airborn. where'd the damn slinky go?
airborn - <yawn> beats me.
-+--- ------ - -
"one by one, you each must fall into a category and from thence,
defeat the on-coming war. i will wait for you, becuase in this state i am
defenseless."
"i would be soon destoryed."
mogel - yew g0t it.
cerkit - i'm willing.
murmur - me three dude.
m0rph - MY NAME IS SUAVE DAVE, GET IT RIGHT!@#
slowly night fell on the philadelphia streets, with everyone just one
step more ignorant to the cosmic soup opera being casted as they spoke. no
one knew that the reality they knew was slowly unfolding, and that they were
trapped in a world of uselessness.
the city lights grew and then dimmed, then they blinked off and on in
sequence spelling "crash & burn".
- ---+----------------------------------------------------------------+--- -
slinky issue number 002 - 02/18/96
send feedback/submissions to slinky@blandest.com
avalon bbs - 908 739/4274 alfheim forest bbs - 908 473/1287
ftp.prism.net /pub/text/slinky
"are you going to hump that?" - slinky
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