Newsgroups: alt.slack

Subject: Operation: Apocalypse (Episode I part 1)

From: !!!bmyers@ionet.net (TarlaStar)

Date: Sat, 14 Feb 1998 16:26:49 GMT

 

"How much time do we have before I give the Pope a blowjob?" asked Tina.

The Reverend Mutha looked at her watch, then up into the young girl's

face. "Just under three years. Now, you taking the assignment or

what?"

 

"I didn't join the Ninja Nun Corps to back away from the messy jobs,

M'am. I'm your fellatrix."

 

*****

Perpetually Juicy Industries is proud to present another in the

continuing series dedicated to glorifying Tarla in her own mind. Join

us as we go back and forth in time until you vomit. Strap down, grease

up and get ready for another episode of...ATTACK OF THE CYBERBIMBOS!!!

Gaze upon the television screen of your mind as we follow the

seemingly neverending tales of the Rev. Mutha Tarla Star and her

faithful Ninja Nun Corps in their repeated attempts to rid the world

of idiots, particularly those of the female gender. ATTACK OF THE

CYBERBIMBOS!!! Is brought to you, as always by, Perpetually Juicy

Industries, a proud and slightly terrified subsidiary of Dobbs Inc.

and the makers of "Cooter Bomb", "Super Cooter Bomb" and "Hysterectomy

in a Can" for when you just can't get "fresh enough." Don't look like

you smell like Anita Bryant...get a "Cooter Bomb" and stank no more!"

Now join us as we look into the office of Rev. Mutha T. where our

story is already in progress...

 

*****

 

Mutha T handed the girl a packet containing airline tickets to Mexico

then Havana, a passport, driver's license and various permits and id

which would allow her to set up a life in Cuba. When the Pope came to

Cuba, she would be in the proper postion to swallow the shot heard

'round the world. Tina, a sultry vixen from Puerto Rico had only been

in the NNC for three years, but she had proven herself to be alert,

clever and totally dedicated to the cause. She took the folder and

left. It would be three years before she saw her home and her Reverend

Mutha again.

 

Tarla pushed herself away from the desk, stood and stretched. It was

going to be a long day. She walked left her office and walked down the

long hallway to the chapel. Other than those who were working

undercover, in the field or on essential support and research duties,

the entire Corps was present. The chamber was filled to capacity. Even

the balcony was SRO. You could cut the estrogen in the room with a

knife. Tarla walked up the aisle to the pulpit. She tapped the mike.

The crowd quieted and looked up at her.

 

"Sisters, as you know, we have a mission. Since X-day, many of us

returned, using both Xist technology and Time Control, we work,

beneath the scenes, making history go the way it needs to. We fight

for Slack and the will of Dobbs. This Order was founded to serve a

dual purpose; both the elimination of Bimbodom in our time, and the

Way of Slack. Unfortunately the Way of Slack sometimes demands a blood

and/or semen sacrifice. That's where we come in. We fight and fuck so

that others may know Slack."

 

The assembly nodded or muttered approval.

 

"But Sisters, we're facing a problem we've never faced before."

 

The room was silent but for the sound of oxygen being inhaled and

carbon dioxide leaving through several hundred perfect mouths.

 

"We NEED a bimbo. You all are too beautiful, too intelligent, too

assertive to meet the requirements. We need an ALMOST beautiful,

ALMOST bright, totally unassertive bimbo with really big hair and a

little meat on her bones. The target won't settle for anything more."

 

Tarla looked out upon the sea of beautiful faces in all shades and

varieties, but assuredly all almost perfectly symetrical, and

terribly, terribly photogenic."

 

"Do we have any candidates? Does anyone know someone we can get into

the White House and control?"

 

The room seemed to vibrate with the sounds of soft voices murmuring to

each other. From the back of the center aisle, a voice called out.

 

"I went to college with a girl who might work..."

 

"Her name?"

 

"Monica."

 

The Reverend Mutha smiled. The nuns smiled back at her. They sighed in

unison,

 

"Perfect!"

 

*****

****

Dammit Jeb, I'm as Amish as the next guy, but if we don't take

out that sub, there won't be a Pennsylvania to go home TO!

--my son, Eric.

***

Rev. Mutha Tarla Star ://www.ionet.net/~bmyers/homepage.html

 

 

From !!!bmyers@ionet.net Sat Feb 14 08:29:14 1998

Newsgroups: alt.slack

Subject: Operation: Apocalypse (Episode 1 part 2)

From: !!!bmyers@ionet.net (TarlaStar)

Date: Sat, 14 Feb 1998 16:29:14 GMT

 

Two years later, Tarla sat in her office, her eyes glued to a tiny 17"

screen.

 

*****

In Havana, Tina had secured a job in an upscale men's clothing store

in the tourist district. About a month after her arrival, she

attracted the attention of the Minister of Tourism. He offered her a

job. She gave him one in return. Gradually but surely, her sultry

beauty and controlled intelligence moved her ever upward in the

circles of power surrounding Fidel. Within two years, she had become

his personal aide. After a year at this duty, no one would find it

suspicious for her to be in regular contact with His Holiness. In

fact, it would be expected, since she was one of those instrumental in

clearing up the small details which had previously impeded his

arrival.

 

*****

 

In a job considered too dangerous, too demanding for the average nun,

Sr. Jezabel the Unclean prepared herself to die. After months of

undercover work, discovering the brothel that Saddam visited, getting

a job there, subtlely attracting his attention, then becoming his

favorite...his object of ultimate desire, in fact: she was about to

bite his dick. She was hoping he wouldn't kill her; that the memory of

previous blowjobs would save her neck. But she was prepared for the

worst. If he didn't blow her brains out immediately, she might be able

to escape the brothel and lose herself in Baghdad. From there, it

might be possible to get out of Iraq and down to New Zealand before

the Anthrax bombs hit North America and the Nukes took out Europe and

the Baltics. Jezabel thought a happy thought and bit down....

 

*****

 

Tarla sat before the command console at her desk watching reports come

in. She ran a hand through her hair, looked longingly at her loaded

pipe, shook her head and returned her attention to the screen. Sr.

Intensely Fuckable had chosen brilliantly. The Monica bimbo was easier

to control than a tricycle. She never even knew she was being ridden.

 

Tina was in charge of preparing the Pope's living quarters during his

visit. Fidel adored her like a daughter he got to fuck. And she got

her pick of the best cigars rolled on the island. She promised to

bring back a few for her Mutha.

 

Jezabel had bitten Hussein's hooded harpoon and lived to tell about

it. She was currently on her way to Malaysia. Saddam was VERY cranky

and starting to make noises at the U.S. again.

 

There was a soft knock at the door and it opened slowly. Only a very

few of the sisterhood would dare to open the door without her

permission. It must be Do-me.

 

"You haven't eaten, Bitch. I suppose you think you're too good for

aerosol cheese and twinkies like the rest of us."

 

"Sounds delicious," said Tarla looking back at the screen. It looked

as though the timing just might work out, that the Monica thing and

the Pope's arrival would coincide. That would work out perfectly to

distract everyone from Saddam's gesturing. By the time they noticed

him, it would be too late.

 

"Tarla! Pay attention to THIS world for a second." Sr. Do-me reached

across the desk and shook her shoulder almost violently. "You haven't

eaten for two days and you've slept, what...four hours at most in that

time. Everything is going just the way it's supposed to. Now eat this

sandwich, and share that bowl with me," she ordered, pulling the

napkin-wrapped delicacy from her apron.

 

Tarla took the roast beef on sourdough from her friend and turned away

from the screen. "Do-me, we're so close. In July, the saucers arrive,

the bombs start flying and no one will ever realize that the Yeti

revenge is anything more than the usual destruction incurred in war.

Our tracks will be completely hidden."

 

Sr. Do-me nodded, picking up the pipe and applying a fire source to

it. "The balance of power shifts and no one ever notices it. The sheep

are still sheep, but this time...they're OUR sheep."

 

"Dobbs' sheep." Tarla corrected. "It will take some time, you

understand, to clean out everyone and replace them with enough of us

to smoothly change into a Slack World Unsystem," she mumbled through a

mouthful of beef and tomatoes. "It's not that we want to avoid

bloodshed, it's simply a matter of having enough people to run the

machines that make our lives better."

 

"I'll smoke to that!" said Sr. Do-me.

 

*****

Will Sr. Do-me's pipe dreams come true? Will Jezabel make it to the

CONvent's new headquarters in the South Pacific in time to escape the

nuclear/ anthrax holocaust? Will Tina be able to offer his Holiness a

hummer? Will Monica be distraction enough or will Tarla have to devise

yet another national distraction? Stay tuned to this newsgroup for

more to come on...ATTACK OF THE CYBERBIMBOS!!!

 

****

Dammit Jeb, I'm as Amish as the next guy, but if we don't take

out that sub, there won't be a Pennsylvania to go home TO!

--my son, Eric.

***

Rev. Mutha Tarla Star ://www.ionet.net/~bmyers/homepage.html