Sopstation

: except very big

2008-03-18T21:59:00.000-07:00

Conceiving Hope

2008-03-04T10:58:00.000-08:00

It was the future and the world had ended. Machines turned on their creators and watched mankind perish by the fire of the very weapons it had built for its own protection. The doctor knew that he had to interfere. Humanity needed a leader; a fighter and strategist who could co-ordinate an offensive and replace the total despair with a glimmer of hope. But such a leader had never been born.

The doctor knew what needed to be done. Let's get to it, he thought, putting himself in his most charming mood. "Sarah Connor?" he asked as the front door opened.

A Nutshell Review

2008-02-29T01:15:00.000-08:00

The Postman ends with the smile of a child.

Dr, oh

2007-10-30T19:04:00.000-07:00

The doctor was having second thoughts. Would his seduction of Ms. Braun really depress Hitler enough to lessen the dictator's hunger for world domination? Would it really prevent the second great war?

It was a long shot. But he couldn't forget the world depended on him. The least he could do was to try, damn it.

Excerpt From the Book Series "What Chewed Gum Is Useless for"

2007-10-14T19:34:00.001-07:00

#14291: Cleaning showers.

The Fifth Noon

2007-10-05T20:56:00.000-07:00

Gro'k usually wasn't one to hold a grudge longer than it took to kill a man, but Elijana, mother of Thordil and revered bride of Thordal, bothered him even as the life of her progeny was long since extinguished. While his stomach hummed the tunes of indigestion, he thought that he perhaps should have cooked her longer.

Entertainment

2007-10-03T08:20:00.000-07:00

The children cheered as old Mr. James played another tune on his accordion. Little did they know of the wicked plans brewing underneath his kind façade. He had already emptied a bottle of glue in the kindergarten's only box of Lego without getting noticed -- now all he needed to figure out was how to frame Jenny Johanson for the crime.

Mom vs. Uncle

2007-09-11T18:09:00.000-07:00

Mom: You shouldn't eat tuna. Dolphins get caught in the nets.

Uncle: Why not just eat the dolphins as well, then?

Mom: You can't eat dolphins! They're, like, the second smartest mammal on the planet!

Uncle: Well, that's no reason for them to taste bad, is it?

"Bless me"

2007-09-02T17:00:00.000-07:00

...And then there was the deity which destroyed itself because its simultaneous existence in all of time made for an insufferable audio feedback loop whenever it sneezed.

Cybersex: Excerpt #9

2007-09-02T16:22:00.000-07:00

Of course I shall answer! We will embark on a grand journey of discovery, the like of which the world has not seen since Josef Mengele met Anne Frank in a laboratory 1944!

Cybersex: Excerpt #5

2007-08-24T14:20:00.000-07:00

...And thus I condemn you to an eternity of servitude and unending insanity. Your flesh shall reek as if concentrated from uncountable generations of dead, and be riddled with unholy orifices which will allow my most blasphemous fantasies to flourish; your infected wounds deliberately left purulent for the benefit of my revolting penetrations. In the tenebrous pit you shall know as home, your sole company will be the phantasms of your own mind, save for when I require to use the Cyclopean features I've caused you for my pleasure, or otherwise annihilate your very soul. Your ululations are to be but insignificant ravings at the cosmos; your hope an obnoxious reminder of a life long lost; your despair the only reality -- for light is no longer for you.

Dr. Who?

2007-06-08T19:22:00.000-07:00

As soon as he had got his degree, the man travelled back in time to attempt to plant his seed in as many Hominidae as he could. Thus he intended to spawn a new era, to speed up evolution, to father a higher society.

They called him Dr. Wohoo. The dirty little monkey bugger.

Cork Request

2007-05-27T16:55:00.000-07:00

Granted?

for kicks

2007-04-06T03:58:00.000-07:00

brewster had a wee benny rabbit. this benny was no ordinary benny, though. he never showed any interest i nthe task that were given to him, nad i'dp robalr be stuck with him fot wute some time. now this isn't normally a bad thing, though tthis oarticular individual seems to be hell bent on getting that car to wherever. her botfriends in the band whateveritwas told to wait frór the king was satisfying his hunger. aduötery was apparently only a sin for the women.

i wonder if they all went there, or if somebody else ah heck id unno...

Message Decoded

2007-03-19T17:06:00.000-07:00

"Wu Tang Clan is not something with which to fuck."

Postponement

2007-01-08T15:33:00.000-08:00

The doves fled to the skies as everything was washed in the foreboding white light. Witnessing civilisation literally crumble to dust before him, old Mr James realised he would have to poison those damn birds another day.

The Fourth Dawn

2007-01-07T19:25:00.000-08:00

Gro'k slept. There was nothing more for him to do now. The fabled hero of the Twin Continents was dead, and Gro'k's stomach was filled with man flesh. He slept with anticipation, for tomorrow a short squeeze would provide the ultimate insult to the legacy of Thordil son of Thordal.

The - #6

2007-01-07T09:28:00.000-08:00

The doctor, being considerably deader than the others, said nothing.

The - #5

2007-01-05T08:50:00.000-08:00

Richard watched wonderingly through the glass walls of his resting place as the distorted contours of the policemen scoured the room. What were they doing? What had happened? Untouched by the cruelties of the world, he couldn't fathom such a terrible scenario as that which was at hand.

The - #4

2007-01-04T17:48:00.000-08:00

The Toasterlemming was stalling the policeman. It had seen what the jar-torsoed bastard had done to the poor doctor. As a freaky gerbil-looking toaster, the closest thing it ever had to a father was the dismantled kitchen appliance lying in the garbage. The second closest thing, though, was the doctor. The poor, poor doctor. The Toasterlemming wasn't going to let the justice system get in the way of its revenge. It purposely didn't answer any of the policeman's questions coherently, and it could barely wait to start its own search for the killer.

Richard was still passed out in his old glass jar of alcohol, and he had yet to realise what the events of the past night had set in motion.

The - #3

2007-01-04T17:43:00.000-08:00

The police arrived at noon. Most of them had seen plenty of murders in their days, but this one still hit them right in the gut. Why would anyone want to kill this beloved benefactor of science and society? Borgqvist was the man in charge of finding the answer to that question.

"You!" he yelled at a toaster-looking gerbil sitting in a small cage in the same room as the victim.

"I?" queried the surprised Toasterlemming.

"Yes, you. Sie, vous, fucking sinä!"

"I? Ich, moi, minä?"

The - #2

2007-01-04T14:54:00.000-08:00

The doctor is dead. What is it supposed to do now? Shower off the blood and pretend to be an innocent bystander when the lab assistant arrives in the morning? Or escape to freedom, but remove all doubts about the identity of the perpetrator? It will have to consider its next move carefully.

The -

2007-01-04T13:25:00.000-08:00

Three orange and furry legs of unknown origin, an empty jar at the centre, a dimly glowing light bulb on the back and two kilograms of nothing on the front for use as a head. Such was the doctor's latest creation described in the notepads of his awe-stricken peers.

It led a lonely life, though. Its only company was the Toasterlemming and a mutated kidney named Richard, after its original owner. These weren't as social as our three-legged friend, and every day it asked the unsympathetic doctor for permission to visit the local pub for a chance to "bang some beaver", as it called it.

"But master," it cried. "I've done all my chores for today and for tomorrow. Don't you think I'm deserving of some light-hearted entertainment and alcohol?"

The doctor sneered at this suggestion, and replied as he always did: "Every thing in its place. Yours is not outside this lab."

Part 1

2007-01-04T06:02:00.000-08:00

"Mr Kemp!"

That was me. The tag on my chest confirmed it: Paul Kemp, Head of Logistics. I stopped what I was doing and turned around.

"Yes, Mr Ross, sir?"

"Why are there two pallets of laxatives standing outside my office?" asked a man, sweaty and wearing a suit it seemed he had grown out of several years ago.

"Sir, we were already severely overstocked, when you promptly ordered more," I responded, almost boiling inside, but not showing it, as usual. Mr Ross would, from time to time, fill the building with goods from his Asian "associates". Due to my position, I was privy to this information, but it was strictly off the records, of course. "What would you have me do with them?"

"I don't give a damn! It's your job; fix it!" the man ordered. "Fix all of this while you're at it. Make things look tidy again!"

"Sir, security regulations clearly state that---"

"Just do it!" he interrupted and barged away.

"Yes, sir," I responded, but he was already gone. "Asshole," I muttered under my breath.

Seven years of bending over to crap such as this, like any other regular old schmuck. Sure, I had got the job under false pretences, but my service was spotless. Why, I wondered, when I was stuck in this position under that disgusting man, who'd apparently retire or die before promoting me or letting me in on his "business". Had I forgotten who I was? Where was the spirit of my youth? It didn't matter, though -- I was getting it all back. I finally had a plan.

We arrived late that night, I and my merrie men. They weren't the tidiest of folks, but I felt I could trust them. I entered my code on the security panel and let everybody in. They stood still in awe for a while at the sight of the key to their future, and I let them with great contentment.

"Welcome to the biggest pharmaceutical storage facility this side of the country!" I announced. "Kids, you know what we talked about. Opiates are in section D and anti-depressants in H. But remember we're not only after the uppers and downers. The real money is in the actual medicine. You all have your lists, and I've had the most expensive stuff conveniently placed for your thieving pleasure. Be sure to not take more than the specified amounts! Get to it! Go, go, go!"

It felt good to be in charge of something again. After giving my speech and waving my hooligans off, I calmly headed to Mr Ross's office. I moved the pallets of laxatives to one of the areas that was now being emptied, all the while whistling cheerily. I then took a post-it, stuck it to my boss's desk and wrote:

Mr Ross,

Took care of your inventory problem for you.

Thank me later,
Paul