informis/textfiles
1
0
Fork 0
Code Issues Pull Requests Packages Projects Releases Wiki Activity
textfiles/groups/BANANAREPUBLIC/banana.txt

627 lines
21 KiB
Plaintext
Raw Normal View History

Initial commit
2021-04-15 13:31:59 -05:00
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.
*****BLAMMO!***** Iain dematerializes for exactly a small fraction of a
something before reappearing two feet off the deck.
IAIN: Wah!
(Thud)
BOG: One hour fifty seven minutes. Oh God, which sadistic bast made these
units so big? Even a second`s a long time. Wankers. I know! There`s a
cure for this one!
STEVE: Oh, yeah!
NIK/ CRAIG/ IAIN: Oh, NO WAY!!
BOG: Yes, way...
STEVE&BOG: Some thing in life are bad. They can really make you
mad...
PTINNNNGGG!!!
(---------------------)
| |
| D A F T C O N 3 |
| |
(---------------------)
ALL: Oh, bugger.
Suddenly, Graham`s voice comes from the Office of the Tenders of The Lan.
GRAHAM: Waaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!
NIK: <ouch>
BOG: <Gnnn>
STEVE: <Oooo>
IAIN: <Yahh>
CRAIG: <Mmph>
GARETH: Can I have a go?
N/B/S/I/C: Fu... uh... no. You can`t.
BOG: Only one thing for it, dudes. It`s starting to get silly. You know
what that means.
STEVE: Yeah. Nothing does what we expect it to do.
NIK: Right! So if we`re playing it at it`s own game...
BOG: Then this computer (If I can bring myself to call it that (sneer))
expects me to use the mouse, then by simply doing something else...
IAIN: You outwierd it!
Craig pulls the syringe from behind his ear, and shoves it into his arm
CRAIG: God, I wish I had something stronger than Insulin on me...(Squirt)
BOG: Reet.
He grabs the mouse, which starts squeaking, and attempting to drive his
hand crackingly into the CPU box. Sussing it`s game, he grips it, hoys it
three feet it the air, and, an expert eater, catches it in his gob.
Krrrunch.
BOG: Guuuuumph.... bruuuuuuuup. Hmmm. Needs oregano.
Steve, Iain, Craig and Nik start chewing simultaneously and agree all at
the same time. They look at one another.
NICK: Oh my God, they`ve gone mad.
As The Claytoid passes by a diskbox, it`s contents start rippling out of it
and onto the floor in a pretty fanspread relational to tidal gravity from
his paunch.
STEVE: Bloody hell. Not satisfied with taking other people`s code, he`s
ripped off my bloody gravity flux as well!
BOG: Well, at least now it doesn`t seem like we`re looking at you through
fisheye lenses anymore.
IAIN: How`s that?
BOG: Well, now photons should warp around him any longer.
STEVE: Bugg... uh.. no, I mean...
The ICL that Stevey Babes is sat at suddenly... phases. The banana
disappears to be replaced with a cabbage flashing red and purple.
STEVE: Aaawwwww, SHIT!
At this point, Dan "Pastie" Powell walks in, and seeing as I can't think
of anything for him to do right now, he just leans against a wall for a
bit. While he's doing that, I'll tell you about him.
Dan is marked by the fact that he's the only person in creation to have an
alien lifeform living in perfect simbiosys with him. The creature's real
name is totally unpronouncable, so everybody just calls it by it's function
in life :- "Hair". The other remarkable thing is, he's the only person in
the Team who's room is always tidy: The reason for this phenomenon is
simple: Dan uses pasties for energy. Hair uses the rubbish on Dan's floor
for energy by grazing whilst he sleeps.
Craig has finished logging in, but is confused by the Henley Kollidge login
screen`s replacement by a glowing red orb. He hits the break key.
HAL: I`m sorry, Craig, but I can`t allow you to do that.
Craig looks overhis shoulder at everyone else.
CRAIG: Can somebody tell me what the HELL is going on here?
STEVE: I`m afraid IT`s happening again, Craig.
CRAIG: No, not... THAT.
NIK: Yes. We`re re- entering...
ALL: THE A LITTLE AFTER LUNCHTIME ZONE!
Soundtrack: nee nee nee nee, nee nee nee nee, nee nee nee nee, nee nee nee
nee!
HAL: Craig, why don`t you take an anti- stress pill and we`ll discuss
this. After all, I have the utmost enthusiasm for the mission.
STEVE: Hmm. We appear to have had a fragment of 2001, a Spaced Odyssey,
penetrate our personal reality- space.
NIK: Can you justify calling THIS reality?
IAIN: Ever seen inside an Amiga?
NIK: Oh, yeah.
BOG: Shurrup. (Sulk).
STEVE: Actually, guys, this is a bit of a change! We`re staying where we
were this time, and everythings coming to us!
Cue backdrop fade out to inky black space, pierced at intervals by stars
scattered like diamond dust on jet- black velvet, then to a clinically
white room: the monitor with the glowing red orb has been
transdimensionally replaced with a dull red scanner eye and a seventies-
like Bolton- ferbruary- day- grey console with the nameplate "H.A.L.
9000". We just have enough time to hear our heros` jaws hit the ground
before it`s time for the credits.
IN NEXT WEEK`S SIX MEN AND A BANANA...
-----
STEVE: OK. It seems that Iain here has turned reality into swiss cheese.
We just happened to randomly pop up on the Discovery, just before Frank
Poole gets killed by Hal...
DAVE: Whaaaat?
HAL: Oh, bugger. Er, it was just going to be a joke, Dave...
-----
DAN: Need a hand?
BOG: Thanks.
(POP) Bog pockets Dan`s left hand.
DAN: Oi! Give that back!
BOG: Soz. (Skwudge)
-----
HAL: I`ve got some people trying to take control of the Discovery. They
want to destroy my mind.
KILLEMALL: Will three Mark IIX assault droids and a disruptor unit do?
HEL: That should be perfectly adequate.
KILLEMALL: I`m despatching them now. They should arrive in a couple of...
-----
That last part has been removed on the grounds of maintaining suspense.
Fade.

Reference in New Issue Copy Permalink