93 lines
3.1 KiB
Plaintext
93 lines
3.1 KiB
Plaintext
# Octothorpe Productions Title: "Transplant" By: Jason Scott Date: 7/2/87
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[#] TRANSPLANT
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Scott woke up rather harshly. Then he looked around.
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The fact he was strapped in a chair was disconcerting. The fact he was in a
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little steel cell with posters of Bon Jovi, Twisted Sister, and Madonna on the
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walls caught him off guard. The fact that there was a large machine suspended
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by a large apparatus over him was mildly nauseating. The fact that three evil
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looking persons wearing fedoras and trenchcoats and with surgery masks on their
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faces were all standing up looking at him made him rather sick.
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"Mgggrph," he quipped. He hadn't noticed the gag in him mouth.
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"Mgggrph? Really," said the one with black hair, "they DID know english back
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in the twilight ages, didn't they?"
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"ObbCorch," said Scott. "Bud denagin wee didnph haf shish nn uuur muphs."
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The guy must have been a dentist. "Oh, I see. The rag." He reached over and
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pulled the gag from Scott's mouth and dropped it into a receptacle to the left
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of the chair.
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"Thenk Yew," said Scott. "Where am I?"
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"Be more original!" piped up the one with red hair. "Simply EVERYBODY says
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THAT."
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"Well, it's to the point, isn't it? And I wanna know why I'm strapped down in
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a chair in a..."
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The Black-haired one held up his hand "Quiet. We read the description."
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Scott shut up. He continued. "You are in the equivalent of the operating
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room of your time. There aren't any diseases of consequence anymore, so we
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mostly use these for specalized operations like yours."
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"And what, may I ask, is my illness?"
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"Oh, no illness on YOUR part."
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Scott raised an eyebrow. "So, what exactly IS this operation for, if I'm not
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in any way ill?"
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The blue-haired one spoke. "We're gonna convert ya into a liver."
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"WHAT?!" Scott didn't like the sound of that. He tried logic. "Is that some
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name for a new sex-change or something?"
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The black-haired one looked confused. "Uh...no...It means, we're about to
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convert you into...a liver. Rather simple, actually. Zap, squish, pop, all
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done. No pain."
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"Wait, wait, wait." Scott shifted a bit, as much he could. "You are about to
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transmutate me into, an ORGAN?"
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"Yes... Anything wrong?"
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"Well, YES! >I< don't remember filling out any occupation form to become a
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part of a body..."
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"You didn't HAVE to. By your old medical standards, you would have been
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dead. We saved you, and now we need you to fulfill a need."
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"Who needs me as their liver?"
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"The President of the Federation. It seems he got into an argument with
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someone, and that person, in misplaced anger, cut out the president's liver and
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ate it."
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"Then use THAT guy as a liver! I could at least be a leg or something..."
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"Well, we vaporized him. Vapor makes a terrible liver."
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"I see..."
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"So, you see, we must commence." He flipped a switch. Things turned on,
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apparati flipped around. Humming went on.
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"WAIT!!" screamed Scott. "What about.."
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<ZAP> <SQUISH> <POP>
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[The Works BBS. 914-238-8195]
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[This tale dedicated to Bellcon and The Surge.]
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