Newsgroups: alt.slack

Subject: Operation: Apocalypse (Episode 2, part 1)

From: !!! (TarlaStar)

Date: Tue, 17 Feb 1998 20:16:56 GMT


When last we saw our Reverend Mutha, she was eating a damned tasty

roast beef sandwich whilst awaiting the imminent destruction of the

world as we currently know it. Sister Do-me was lighting the pipe. But

what of the Hell Nazis from the Earth's core? Will they interfere with

the smooth acquisition of Terra from the CON? Will Saddam's fury last

long enough to make the planet glow? And what does Robert Downey Jr.

have to do with ANY of this? For the answers to these questions and

less, stay tuned to...ATTACK OF THE CYBERBIMBOS!!! coming up right

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"Where's Jez right now?" asked Sr. Do-me on the exhale.


Tarla absently brushed some sourdough crumbs from her lips and

replied, "Just outside of Dobbstown. If she made it out of Iraq, she

was supposed to pick up a package for the CONvent South in Dobbstown.

Stang said something about 'protecting the pipe,' so I imagine that

it's a force field generator of some sort."


"Things are moving a bit quickly, aren't they?"


"Yeah, we have to slow it down a bit, the shit can't hit the fan until

July 5th. In a world of chaos, at little more won't be noticed, but if

everyone comes back from their 4th of July picnics, notices a flaming

pink flamingo on their lawn and discovers that their dog is pregnant

with a Craigclone, they might just give us a little trouble."


Do-me drew on the pipe again, "I don't mind a little killing. I'm an

excellent butcher. Father told me so, he used to let me butcher in the

back yard. I'm an excellent butcher."


Tarla raised an eyebrow and gave Do-me The Look. "If it was just a

matter of butchering, I wouldn't be so worried, but there are millions

of them. You'd be so deep in gore that you'd drown. I can't have that.

No, they must go the way they're intended to go. I have to slow

Clinton down some more. Get me....Sr. Merry Fellacio.


Do-me's head snapped upward, "Are you sure? I mean...that girl scares

even ME."


"I know, but she's the best we have. Since she had the second tongue

grafted on, she's unstoppable. We'll send her to Ken Starr. If Merry

can't get him to pursue Clinton like a greyhound after a rabbit, then

we're in deep shit, but I have every confidence in her."


The CONvent's head cook and ass-kicker started to push herself out of

the chair when Tarla asked her, "Do-me, what do you plan to do when

they come?"


"The X-ists?" asked Do-me. "I'm not like you. I don't want to change

this world. I want to run a nice little bed-and-breakfast in the

Pleiades. I'm a Taurus, you know."


"I'll miss your human form, but you'll probably look fabulous with

tentacles...and just think how easy it will be to make beds!"


"Why do you keep coming back, Tarla?" asked Do-me. "Why, after

everything you loved has been destroyed do you keep coming back to

Earth? I can't even think about the time line you live in. Right now,

even, I don't know if you're here for the first, second or twentieth

time. Why is it so important to get it right?"


", it's a purty planet?" offered Tarla.


"No, not good enough. You and Stang have grandchildren by the Boy and

Sivet. You could both be living perfect lives on the planet of the Sex

Goddesses, but you keep coming back here to earth. What do you know

that I don't?"


"How to cheat at Arachnid?" she offered.


Do-me tilted her head and watched Tarla closely through the haze of

smoke in the room. "You're not going to tell me, are you?"


Tarla smiled, "It's not that I don't want to. It's that I can't. I'm a

part of something much bigger than my own desire to see my grandkids

grow up and learn to fuck like minks. Besides, I don't have much

choice. When J.R. "Bob" Dobbs speaks, I am all but forced to listen.

Give those of us who have to be here the benefit of the doubt. In 20

years' time this planet will be the ENVY of the Sex Goddesses and I'll

be a stockholder. THEN I can teach my granddaughters how to perform a

perfect rimjob."


Do-me nodded then pointed at the screen. "Hey, what's that blip?"


"Blip?" Tarla turned back to the screen. "Oh shit, it looks like

Monica has gone on a Bill-free diet. I bet it's Hilary's fault.... You

know, she's smart enough and vicious enough to be one of us, if she

just weren't so damned...."


"Pink?" offered Do-me.


"Yeah. She's pinker than Ru-Paul's panties."


The Reverend Mutha deployed Sr. Merry Fellacio and kept track of the

comings and goings of the world's leaders. Since they were all

controlled by their dicks, it was relatively easy. Months passed,

world-wide political tension grew more and more towards outright

hostility, and still Tarla waited for just that right moment.





***Rev. Mutha Tarla Star***

"He's giving it up for ME! Did you hear that cell block 9?

He's giving it up for me...I feel just like Wallis Simpson!"


---Lenny Bruce (as "Kinky" the prisoner)



From !!! Tue Feb 17 12:17:09 1998

Newsgroups: alt.slack

Subject: Operation Apocalypse: (Episode 2, part 2)

From: !!! (TarlaStar)

Date: Tue, 17 Feb 1998 20:17:09 GMT


It was summertime and the living was anything but easy. The economy

had dropped straight into the toilet just after the Easter "bunny"

scandals broke. Alan Greenspan, at the urging of his own personal love

slave (Sr. Karreem Ahn Kammand) raised interest rates twice in three

months. Unemployment had gone from 4.6% to over 10% in even less time.

Roving bands of unemployed youths were attacking every suburb, leaving

smoking ruins and tearful but pregnant cheerleaders and their equally

pregnant mothers behind. Decapitation was becoming the death form of

choice. By June, you couldn't walk down a city street without

stumbling over someone's head.


Sr. Jezabel the Unclean had picked up Stang's package and taken it to

CONvent South and established the base camp. Soon, Ninja Nuns were

moving the essentials of the Norman based operations to the new South

Pacific headquarters. When things were moving along at the projected

pace, Jezabel headed back for the U.S. to complete her final

assignment before she would be allowed to return to the CONvent and

her own pet projects.


Jezabel strolled up the tree lined driveway toward the CONvent's old

headquarters; a neo-gothic cathedral positioned in the center of the

property. Her footsteps barely registered in the cool dark hallways

that led to Tarla's office, but the Reverend Mutha was waiting for



"Is it always this hot in July or have I just adjusted to a different

climate?" said Jezabel, as she flopped down into the wide leather

chair in front of Tarla's desk.


"Welcome back," said Tarla pouring them the traditional Pink Lady.

"You leave first thing in the morning."


"Is Monica expecting me, or do I have to worm my way in?" asked Jez,

taking the cocktail from her outstretched hand.


"You're playing the role of her old college pal's sister." Tarla took

a couple of sips from her drink, then continued, "She thinks you're a

big fan of Bill's and she'll take you along to the reception, just to

score points with Sr. Intensely Fuckable."


"All I have to do is make myself seen talking with the President,



"Right. Hussein's people monitor all news broadcasts. If you're seen,

Hussein will know it."


"Then all hell breaks loose..." muttered Jez before downing the

remainder of her drink.


"Exactly. You meet Bill, maybe even garner a little peck on the cheek

and Saddam goes insane. He'll know he was set up and he'll blame it on

the U.S." She poured another round of drinks into the cut crystal

glasses. "By the time he puts his finger on the button, I'll have

picked you up in D.C. and we'll be on our way to Brushwood."


"So the arrival of the X-ists will coincide with WWIII and we'll not

only escape clean, but they'll blow the hell out of each other and

save us a shitload of trouble." She looked admiringly at her leader.

"You're a fucking genius, you know?"


Tarla shook her head. "Not me...Dobbs. This is all HIS plan. All I've

been doing is arranging assignations and buying stock in arms

manufacturers and Hostess."




"Yeah, their factories escape the bombing somehow and Twinkies become

something of an underground monetary standard." Tarla explained.


"I wondered why Do-me had been ordering so many Ding Dongs. I thought

it was for your birthday party."


Jezabel lit a frapstick and passed it to Tarla. "So, what are we going

to do at Brushwood?"


"The usual. Smoke, drink, be ruptured, and then we're off to the Sex

Goddesses planet for a quick refitting and our next assignment."


"Who would have thought that the end of the world would start with a

blowjob and end with a bang?" asked Jezabel drawing in the frapsmoke.


"Well, I'd always hoped..."



Will Hussein's cockholding be the end of Earth as we know it? Will

Mutha T. be ruptured for the umteenth time? And where IS Andy Testa?

Will Hostess stock really go through the roof or will Sr. Do-me have

to begin building livestock barns from unused Ding Dongs? Join us

again for another episode of....ATTACK OF THE CYBERBIMBOS!!!







***Rev. Mutha Tarla Star***

"He's giving it up for ME! Did you hear that cell block 9?

He's giving it up for me...I feel just like Wallis Simpson!"


---Lenny Bruce (as "Kinky" the prisoner)



From Tue Feb 17 18:52:05 1998

Newsgroups: alt.slack

Subject: Re: Operation Apocalypse: (Episode 2, part 2)

From: (Nully Fydyan)

Date: 18 Feb 98 02:52:05 GMT


In article <6cctpo$>, !!! (TarlaStar)



> Join us

> again for another episode of....ATTACK OF THE CYBERBIMBOS!!!



Wait. Where's the rest? I thought you said you were gonna finish it.




Rev. Nully Fydyam

Church of the Ungendered Yeti


"Don't blink or you'll miss it, it's the end of free will" -- Kevin Gilbert