 |
WEB FED NEWS YEARBOOKS Earthdate October 2000 |
|
WEB FED NEWS YEARBOOKS Earthdate October 2000 |
 |
INSIDE SCOOP |
|
FED OP-ED: WORKTHINGIES' RIGHTS This week I got a hot tip that Calodia of Pangea had something up her sleeve. (Okay, okay, it was a lukewarm tip, but I checked it out anyway.) Luckily, unlike a rumor I checked out involving Godot and a cleaning mobile, this turned out to have some substance behind it. I scheduled an interview to check it out. Calodia straightens her suit, and tries to look professional kinda sorta. She is wearing a fashionable suit, the short skirt accents her silky smooth legs. Her red hair is tied up, and glasses sit on the end of her nose. Jelly says, "Let's see..." Jelly taps her forehead with a pencil while looking at her notepad, "I heard you are starting a movement... can you go into detail about this?" "Well, I wouldn't call it a movement, but it's the Save the WT Foundation.", says Calodia. Jelly asks, "I see... and what does this Foundation do?" "WTs in fed are an endangered species, constantly having their little lives snuffed out, and I hope to stop this terrible trend form growing.", says Calodia. Jelly asks, "What actions are you going to take to insure this?" Calodia says, "We help stop builds by offering to take build money from those who wish to donate it -- as well as promote peace with WTs, and advocate things such as health and social security to help replenish the WT population." Jelly points a pencil at Calodia, "Isn't it true that your plan to advocate health will hurt the WTs in the short run... perhaps even costing some lives?" Calodia looks curiously at the pencil and gasps! "Well, there was a flu outbreak on Pangea about a week ago, and of the 164 WTs that were there, only 4 survived in time to reap the benefits of the new health facility" Jelly takes some notes, "I see..." Calodia says, "But if health is needed to make healthy WTs, and some die in its building, then perhaps it only proves the need for them. Perhaps less WTs would have died if the health had been there, and they were doing another project... And perhaps POs need to make their building sites safer, as to not have so many WT building fatalities." Jelly asks, "Why aren't your building sites 'safe' then?" Calodia fidgets a little bit. "Well, um, I'm trying my best..." Calodia looks around a bit nervously "But I am trying to make them safer..." Jelly asks, "Have you ever considered that other POs are, quote, 'trying'?" Calodia says, "Ha! I have heard other POs talk of the blood flowing over their construction sites like they enjoyed the carnage" Jelly shudders at that thought Bront asks, "Didn't you once share that same attitude Lady Cali?" Calodia glares at Bront and fidgets a bit more Jelly asks Bront in a very teacher-like way if HE wants to get up here and ask the questions. Bront says, "Sorry..." Calodia breathes a sigh of relief. "Well, I do collect build money from people who want to help that way, but I try to put it into PO advancement programs to help young Merchants get a planet and help to breed more WTs." Jelly asks, "I think what most people are wondering is... why do you do this" "The WTs don't have a voice most of the time. I'm here to stand up for them and say "We're dying here, help us!"", says Calodia. "Besides, it gives me a cause to fight for." She smiles. Jelly says, "One last question before I begin to close..." Calodia nods Jelly jumps up, "What is your opinion on workthingies who would trap a poor innocent little newsdroid and never let her out and threaten her and finally the poor little newsdroid would have to be rescued by a passerby?!? Eh?" Calodia asks, "What? Why would a WT do something so horrible?" Calodia refuses to believe something as sweet as a WT could ever do something so cruel. "Well, maybe if the newsdroid sorta kinda snuck into their place of residence... with kind intentions only!", Jelly exclaims. Calodia says, "Well, everyone has a right to defend their home from intruders, no mater what the intruder's intent." Jelly says, "I see..." Jelly grumbles under her breath Calodia asks, "Why would you ask such a specific question?" Calodia is beginning to worry about her poor WTs Jelly looks flustered. "Ooh, No reason." Calodia smiles, "Good" Jelly asks, "Any closing words for our readers?" "Remember that WTs have feelings too, and are in danger of dying out, so be careful what you do, so you don't kill them all off", says Calodia. "Thank you very much for this exclusive interview, Calodia!" Jelly exclaims. Jelly reaches out to shake Calodia's hand Calodia shakes Jelly's hand "Sure thing", smiles Calodia. Jelly grips her hand slightly tighter. "It IS exclusive, isn't it?" Calodia grips even tighter, straining Jelly's hand "Of course." Jelly relaxes, "Okay! Thanks!" Jelly smiles sweetly.
TOP TEN
THINGS I LEARNED IN FED Back in 1996, I was surfing around AOL and found this game called Federation. I tried it out and didn't do too well at first. But someone named Gallinfennr sent me mail welcoming me to the game, and I went back. Soon I was hopelessly hooked and here I am today, still playing! I have gained and learned much from Fed, here's my list of the top ten things I have gained:
The future must be a paradise for men. That's all I can say. Once I explain, you're probably going to agree. Now I want you all to think long and hard on the following question, and the aforementioned answer will probably come to you. How often do you get lost flying around in space? I'll wait. Time's up. How'd you do? Hey, that's right! Nearly never! Which means that the instances are few and far between where a guy is put into the nightmare situation of them all: being forced to ask directions. Now in space, it's not nearly as embarassing. Down here on Earth, we have the wonderfully unintelligable Interstate Highway system - a network of roads guarateed to reduce your carefully researched directions into scrap paper in 20 miles. But there are signs that a human being can theoretically figure out. In space, though, we're missing the signs. All we have in the way of navigation is a balky computer that occasionally starts spitting out fondue recipes rather than coordinates and dead reckoning. Gas stations are no longer any help; you need to land to find an actual station (which would mean you're no longer lost), and the guy who flies around with the tanker is less than helpful in the directions department. However, there is still a guardrail of sorts: those spiffy "uncharted sectors." So usually, the worst we can do is get turned around a few times and have to slowly work our way back to a link or planet, and then squawk on nine for awhile. It's a full life. The lovely part - if you're a guy - is that you can't really get lost for long. Sure, you might make a couple wrong turns, but you'll get back on track before long. Plus, nobody can share your ship, so nobody will nag you for 90 miles to pull over for directions when you've explained several times that this is a shortcut. I'm sure there are other reasons why this is such a paradise for guys, but I really don't have the time right now. I have to figure out where the heck I am. Now, folks, you do know you can e-mail me with comments and such, right? It's really simple, too. All you have to do is send it to Horatio_TheWriter@excite.com!
DANNY FOUNDS HABITUAL ANTAGONIST SOCIETY The outspoken and relatively unliked Danny, in his neverending effort to organize the few people who agree with him, has become President and Founder of the Habitual Antagonist Society. This new organization is intended to oppose organizations of people who he disagrees with. He is currently accepting application in person or by emailing DannyW@metallica.com. Reprinted below, for public inspection, is the Society charter: Charter of the Habitual Antagonist Society Section I - Mission Statement The Habitual Antagonist Society (HAS) was created with the belief that all organizations need opposition. Recently, the people who do things that annoy the President and Founder, Danny, have formed into groups. In opposition to this, the Habitual Antagonist Society was formed. The HAS stands for the things listed below. The list can be modified regularly in order to fit current annoying trends. Section II - Membership Qualifications To qualify for membership to the HAS, you must agree with one or more of the statements below. You do not have to agree with the President and Founder or any of the other members. By joining, it is understood that you may or may not agree with all the statements below, but that you agree with at least one. To apply, contact the President and Founder, Danny, in Chez Diesel on Mars or on channel nine on your comm unit. Section III - Society Beliefs 3.1 - Housepets 3.2 - Dumping 3.3 - Rank-based Power Section IV - Amendments Section III can be ammended at will by the Founder and President, or by vote of members. Section V - Exceptions 5.1 - Housepet Definition 5.2 - Amendments
FED
OP-ED: LEAST FAVE MOBILE Yup, it's me again. I wrote about people's favorite mobiles a few articles back and decided the perfect anti-thesis is this question: Which mobile would you least like to meet in a dark alley and why? Let's see which people were willing to admit to which mobiles they think are scary. Kup: "The Pink Floyd. That trendy stuff is just a front. He's a brute! I seen him tear down a wall singlehandedly ;)" Keshrika: "I think that would have to be Diesel... If Diesel was hanging out in a dark alley I really wouldn't want to know what was going on there ;)" Aylisa: "I would have to say the cleaner...I mean if you are in a dark small alley... and that huge thing rumbles by." Thulium: "Diesel, because, since she killed me twice in her own backroom, she'd probably stuff me and hang me on a wall if she met me in an alley." Kitty: "Diesel... because I wouldn't want to go through what her thugs did to me when I did the stat puzzle... lol." Raphael: "My newest mobile because the death is just too horrible. If not my own mobile, the Zlitherworm, take yer arm off. My newest mobile is the Horror, and it's patterned off a creation of HP Lovecraft." Sagramore: "The Tourist, that Mallet is dangerous, Lol ;)" Pilgrim: "The redhead on Babe's beach... she always make me blush so." Ratttso: "Hrmmm... That would have to be a Grizzle. They're pretty good in the dark, I guess." Sparhawk: "The mobile Reality in Sol. I don't like reality would like to avoid it as much as possible, especially in dark alleys that probably are full of garbage anyhow. :)" Me? I'm scared of the weeble… Don't ask…
ALSATIAN'S PLANET REVIEW: ANYWHERE The cats in Fed haven't figured things out yet. Day after day they drop their dead marsrats at Hazed's feet and she merely scowls and calls the cleaner in for another Code 7. I know that a half-alive zlitherworm, deposited right in the middle of her lap, gets much more attention and usually instigates a great game of chase. I'd done just that last week and was waiting for my cue to scramble out the door at top speed. She was going though the usual pre-chase screaming and ranting and I was giving her my full tail-wagging, stupid-dog-grinning attention. But instead of leaping to her feet and grabbing Diesel's baseball bat, Hazed threw the chewed zlitherworm in the general direction of my head and yelled, "Get out of here, you cur!" "And go where?" I barked out, knowing I was somewhat safe; Chyrnobog's planet had closed some time ago. "Anywhere!" she screeched at the top of her demi-goddess voice. The zlitherworm died and fleas not securely attached to my skin were flung into the air from the impact of that scream. I made a hasty exit to carry out her instructions. Anywhere? I could go anywhere I wanted? What fantastic luck, this must be what they call a vacation! Discounting the time I spent at Dr. Fogg's Low Cost Spay and Neuter Clinic, I'd never had a vacation before. My first stop was at Jarrow's for one of the new Winnebago-class spaceships, and while they put together the order I began to plan my itinerary. >di bones >di chewtoy >di bitchinheat I got the same disappointing response to my inquiries about Biscuit, Cathouse, and Livrsnaps. Petworld and Hydrant were closed for the season. Here I was on my first real vacation and all the best spots weren't taking reservations! Time was quickly slipping through my paws so I trotted off to the travel agency on Venus. Their out-of-date brochures about visiting gas giant planets didn't appeal to me much - if I wanted a gas giant all I had to do was eat Ashkellion's marsrat chili. What did other Fedizens do while on vacation, I wondered. I had no lawn to mow, no exchange to tidy up. Those disgusting cats had hosted most of the parties going on lately. Planet exploration wouldn't be much of a vacation for me, and I'd already dug so many holes on Venus they'd started mining operations in my excavations. Inspiration hit me as I watched the shipwrights at work. "Hold that Winnebago!" I barked. "Give me some hull, give me some shields, upgrade that computer – build me a fighter!" The surprised workmen tore out the dining table and bed to install missile racks. The bicycle rack on back was scrapped in favor of an engine upgrade. Tux Deluxe supplied me with Red Baron goggles, and I was ready to take on the enemy. For the best part of the week I battled mobiles in Sol. I died heroically, I died whining, and sometimes I just plain old died. Every once in a while Monty or Pegasus died – but not often. I zipped into Arena and snapped at the heels of live players, too. It was a glorious week and a wonderful vacation – until Ashkellion spoiled it. Pegasus and I were enjoying a post-warfare drink in the Rama bar when Ashkellion started in with the tightbeams.
Ashkellion was right, I was in deep dog doodoo. Pegasus gave a few sympathetic whinnies as I scratched my ear over the dilemma. Only a speedy solution would keep me from spending my next vacation at Dogpound, and the answer to my problem might just be sitting just across the table from me. "Pegasus, old pal, buddy of mine – I have a little job for you." I learned over and explained my hasty plan, and we huddled over the sordid details. Sometimes a dog has to do what a dog has to do, you know? I'd like to take a moment to extend my deepest sympathies to Dockrk on his unfortunate DD this week. Anywhere will be added back into the planet review queue as soon as he recovers from his untimely encounter with that menace to Sol fighters commonly known as Pegasus, and I wish Dockrk the best of luck on his rise through the ranks.
THE
FAILED COMMANDER There comes a point in every Fedder's life when he or she begins to wonder if the right path was taken in their Fed life. How different would their lives be if they hadn't upgraded their first ship, or if they never looked for the GM? I decided to see how different my life would be if I had never promoted from commander. To do this, I disguised myself so no one would recognize me, and hitched a ride to Earth. With barely any money in my pocket, I managed to find myself a permit (with a bit of bribery) and a ship. I excitedly painted my ship and hopped in. Checking the job bulletin, I noticed that a job was available, involving shipping fruit from the earth to the moon. Enthusiastically, I helped load up my ship and took off into orbit. That's when the problems started. There I was, at the controls of the ship, with no idea what to do. I typed "Jump moon" repeatedly into my ship's computer, but the effort was in vain. The ship simply stayed put. I curiously pushed a button marked "E" and the ship lurched to the side. This was going to be interesting... Two close encounters with meteors and a dented rearview mirror later, I was safely (or at least safer than when I was flying) on the moon. Exhausted, I help unload the fruit. Then, with a big grin on my face, I held out my hand to collect my payment. My smile faded when I found only 1,050 IG in my hand. I made more than this in an instant with my planet. The gears started turning in my head as I did the math. I owed 200,000 IG... and at this rate, I'd have to do... Over 190 more jobs! Were they kidding me? I decided to stick it out in the name of news... well, at least temporarily. In my next job, I delivered a whole load of kats to the wrong place. However, I was taking all of this in stride until I delivered one cargo extremely late according to one man. He gave me nothing, nada, for that job. That was it! I had it. I pulled out my comm unit, called my dad, and told him to take me back to my planet. And yes, I had him pay off my ship loan on the way back. Guess I'm not made to be an investigative reporter...
FED
LIFESTYLES OF THE RICH AND FAMOUS: VISITS WITH MOBILES I was in Sol the other day, and I was really bored. So after visiting the Starship Cantina, and finding no one awake there, I headed out and what happens, but the Tourist bashes me in the ankle (again) with his croquet mallet. I had half a mind to put him in my porter and set it for Sol 69 but sanity reigned and I left, still steaming. I decided to see if it was true that Mario would take contract work, so I visited his sleezy little dive on the Moon. After the exchange of a few thousand IG, Mario informed me that anything was possible, but I would have to talk to Krystal the Muse to get details. I thought putting Mario in the porter was probably a bad idea, so I didn't even think about it as I left, muttering about where to find Krystal. After a lovely walk all over the Moon, and Venus, I found her on Mercury, drifting through the halls obliviously. I asked her about doing the job for me, and she just jotted a few notes and moved along. Undaunted, I followed her, and asked again. Krystal gave me a look that would freeze even the warmest Duchess and made more notes. I was getting nervous now, I admit it. I followed her ONE more time and asked her what it would take to get rid of the Tourist, once and for all. She said that I would have to come up with ten good reasons why she should do it, and the ten (make that ten times ten) old bruises on my shins didn't count. For once in my life, I had nothing to say. I was totally at a loss. Besides that hard mallet of his, what do I have against the guy? I mean, he's ANNOYING! What else do I need? So I gave up, I cannot seem to come with more reasons than the pain in the shins that he is to me. Any ideas? Send any and all ideas to Bizcarp@aol.com. I'd love to put your good roleplay stuff here.
ASSAULT
WITH DEADLY CALORIES We're all used to people TBing us and saying something along the lines of "can I talk to you for a second?" I'm willing to bet half the TBs in Fed are along those lines. The other half are on topics I'm not allowed to write about in a family-oriented newspaper. But back to the point. Most times, when you get a TB like that, you don't really think twice about it. You just go to where the person is, talk (or get yelled at) and go home again. It's a way of life. However, last night, instead of following that time-honored tradition, I waltzed merrily into an ambush. Upon receiving a TB from one of my dearest friends, I scurried off to her planet to see what was up. I should've gone and bought a poncho. Because the second I set foot inside the room, about ten people who were lying in wait pummeled me with pies of numerous descriptions. Needless to say, I wasn't expecting that at all. However, I took it in good humor, and after I tickled my friend half to death, called it square and started looking for a sandblaster (that pie stuff is a pain to get out of a trenchcoat once it dries). Where else but in Fed do people get suckered into an ambush pie-plastering? I mean, surprise parties are one thing, but pies? What's next? I'd better not ask that question, lest I end up walking into a room and getting hit in the head with a lasagna. But they're my friends all the same and I love them. Even when they do things that would make a psychologist scratch his head. Of course, once they started pondering - out loud - who their next victim was to be, I did the only responsible, mature thing. I made a suggestion. If any of you out there have any comments or questions for me (or have any idea who threw the concrete pie at me) email me at Horatio_TheWriter@excite.com and tell me!
FED
LIFESTYLES OF THE RICH AND FAMOUS: BIZZY'S MAILBAG In response to my story last week, I received this letter:
FED
OP-ED: MACNBC This week I decided to interview a person well-known around Fed for being my father. (Oh yeah, and he hosts some game show or something) Well, let's see how the interview turned out. Macnbc's office "So, tell me about that little game show thing you do... that might be very popular... that your daughter is in no way jealous of despite its extreme popularity..." says Jelly. Macnbc says, "Well, it's called Who Wants to be a Billionaire. We give away a ton of groats on it, so far we've only had 1 big winner though, and that's been Tomyris, whose winnings amount to over 2 gigs." "I heard you have a very lovely, kind, sweet, popular assistant who is often overshadowed by you, her father. Is this true?", Jelly asks. "...umm...", says Macnbc. "No comment.", says Macnbc. Macnbc grins sheepishly. Jelly asks, "AND... how much do you pay this assistant?" "Does her salary comply with the child labor laws?", Jelly asks. "AND does she get many benefits, INCLUDING dental?", Jelly demands. "umm... Zsiveria doesn't have child labor laws.", says Macnbc. "...darn", Jelly says. Macnbc says, "and I leave payment issues to my accountant, Mini-Mac." Macnbc says, "and yes, all Billionaire staff have excellent health coverage." "I see...", Jelly says. Macnbc hides the dictionary he was using to look up the meaning of "excellent" Jelly says, "Is it true that you take ALL the winnings out of your pocket? (And out of your children's future inheritance?)" "Yes, but you're assuming my children have future inheritance.", says Macnbc. "Who was the most interesting player you have ever had on your game show?", Jelly asks. "Ooh, that's a toughie.", says Macnbc. "I'd probably have to say Sholuvr. She was at every single game but only made it to the hot seat once I believe.", says Macnbc. Macnbc says, "If I had lost that many times I probably would've given up, but she didn't, she always came and always had fun." The Mini-mac has just arrived. "I need to start putting locks on the doors.", says Macnbc. Jelly asks, "Would you ever consider letting Mini-Mac into the hot seat?" The Mini-mac has just left. "No. We don't let him into the studio since the only time we did, he ate our question writer.", says Macnbc. "He scares the other contestants too.", says Macnbc. Jelly winks and says, "I noticed how you waited until AFTER he left to say that" Macnbc smiles, "He's very sensitive" "Hey if I pay you a meg can you take out all that stuff about the child labor laws?", asks Macnbc. Jelly raises an eyebrow Macnbc says, "I guess not." Jelly asks, "did your health plan cover that question writer?" "Umm... health plan... ahh yes!", exclaims Macnbc. Macnbc says, "Yes, our health plan allowed him to be buried." "Didja throw in a coffin?", Jelly asks. Macnbc scratches his head "Can a cardboard box be considered a coffin?", asks Macnbc. "Ahh well, he got a very respectful burial at a very nice cemetery..", says Macnbc. Macnbc coughs Macnbc grins nervously. Jelly says, "Well, I believe that is all the information I need for my investigative repor..." Jelly says, "I mean my interview" Jelly blushes Macnbc shouts, "OK! HEY! IS THAT HAZED?!?" Macnbc switches Jelly's tape with one of his old karaoke tapes while she's distracted. Macnbc tosses Jelly's out the window. "OH! You just missed her!", exclaims Macnbc. Macnbc smiles, "Well, nice talking to you!" "Nice talking to you too!", Jelly exclaims. Jelly grins maliciously. You heard it from me and I have evidence on tape! WAIT! What is this? A copy of "John Denver Attempts to Sing the Blues"? What happened to my real tape? GRrrrr….. DAD!
ALSATIAN'S PLANET REVIEW: SPECIAL REPORT Something terrible is happening in Fed. As painful as it is for me to bring you this message, my duty as Senator compels me to keep you informed. Well, I’m not always exactly sure what my duties are as a senator, so I’ll just count it as one of them this week. Evil deeds are being done. Lives are at stake. The very existence of Federation as we know it will hinge on our protest. We must band together to stop this monstrosity! Is it dumping, you ask? Of course not, I am very careful to make sure the overlord is not in residence whenever I dump on a planet. Several well-meaning high-ranking players follow me around with pooper-scoopers, too. Is it the banning rule? Nay, friends. I am often banned from Chez Diesel after rolling in a dead tinguey or a good muddy romp in the Mars Ruins. I choke on the words, Fedizens – the very idea of the atrocities going on under our noses makes lasts week’s garbage I just scavenged roll in my stomach. It’s worse than tick season, it’s worse than eating too much green grass, it’s even worse than (shudder) a bath! There are puppy mills in Fed. There, I’ve said it. Puppy mills. Those despicable places of horror where dogs are kept in submission and bred continually in order to produce marketable puppies. I uncovered this nefarious business last week while checking out a few poodles, er… I mean planets for review. The log follows, and I leave you to read it while I fill out this job application. I think the words ‘stud dog’ go on this line… On a boxer raid ... Redspice has just arrived. Redspice says, "oops...hi there..." Alsatian exclaims, "Woof!" Redspice slips her hands into Alsatian's waistband, making a quick jerk, stealing his boxers....she laughs. Alsatian exclaims, "Ouch! Quit pulling my tail!" Redspice smiles, "Thanks for the boxers Alsatian" Alsatian exclaims, "I am NOT a boxer!" Redspice squirms and starts to scratch... Alsatian smiles, "Enjoy the fleas." Lost in strange Visions, Raphael has appeared with a shimmer of teleportation effect. Alsatian whines. "She got some tail. Mine.", says Alsatian with a frown. Redspice holds up Alsatian's boxers and assorted fleas... she squirms and scratches some more... "You grabbed fur", says Raphael with a wink. "My whole tail.", says Alsatian with a frown. Redspice chuckles... you can keep your tail... I just want the boxers... Alsatian waggles his eyebrows and asks, "Got female Boxers?" Redspice says, "Most of boxers I have belong to dukes... but never a senator..." Redspice wonders if she should notify the media... Raphael whispers to Red, "Alsatian IS the Media..." "My specialty. Chews papers.", says Alsatian. Redspice leans against a pole and scratches her back... "I can’t believe you had these fleas...!", Redspice exclaims. "Want to describe these boxers, Alsat?", Redspice asks. "That isn’t a Boxer... it's my tail!", exclaims Alsatian. Redspice sighs... I don’t steal tails... pouts... and whispers... let's pretend I have boxers... Alsatian waggles his eyebrows and smiles, "Any of them female Boxers?" "No, but if you would like I can train you and then you can steal all the female's boxers...", Redspice says. Alsatian exclaims, "What? Are you running a dog pound here with all these stolen Boxers? A puppy mill?" "Sounds like a puppy mill", says Raphael. "Alsatian, I have 24 boxes of boxers.", Redspice says. "You put them in a box? What happened to dog houses? Geeze... you ought to give them proper dog houses!", exclaims Alsatian. Redspice says, "They only get in the dog house after I steal their boxers." Alsatian exclaims, "You put the people in doghouses and their dogs in boxes? Sheesh!" "That's horrible! Boxers in boxes and and and!", exclaims Raphael. Raphael blusters and looks appalled. Redspice chuckles "Each pair of boxers is tagged with the owners name...", Redspice says. "Of course we wear tags. All dogs in Fed wear tags!", exclaims Alsatian. "Well, they are nicely tagged, and I have the descriptions of each one (at least those that gave me the description)", Redspice says. Alsatian huffs, "Their pedigrees should have descriptions." Redspice smiles, "Is that what you call it - A pedigree?" Redspice slaps herself. Redspice says, "Sorry, it must be these fleas affecting my brain." Alsatian says, "Yes, any dog of note has a pedigree. And all dogs in Fed are dogs of note, even the Boxers." Redspice smiles and pulls out her list... box# 4. KiaPanther's, Boomer's, SirGlec's, Raphael's... "Outrageous!", exclaims Raphael. Redspice smiles mischievously, "I don’t think you thought it was so outrageous when I stole yours Raphael. If I remember correctly, I think you rather enjoyed it." Raphael says, "you caught me by surprise, and I think I retaliated in kind, too." Alsatian exclaims, "Raphael, she took your dog?" Alsatian whispers to Raphael, "Was it a female Boxer, eh?" Redspice shakes the boxers again real hard and the tail falls out... along with several more fleas... "Don't shake the dogs like that!", exclaims Alsatian. Prince Kaipanther has appeared with a shimmer of teleportation effect. Kai's favorite troublemaker, Catspaws has appeared with a shimmer of teleportation effect. Alsatian exclaims, "Woof!" Alsatian wrinkles his nose at Paw-breath. Catspaws sticks out her tongue at butt-breath Alsatian growls. "You're gonna make me lick ya again, aren't ya." Catspaws says, "I'm the best thing YOU ever licked" "How do you get by with that?", Redspice smiles. Alsatian says, "Hair-ball medicine." Redspice says, "hummmmm... cats and dogs..." Alsatian frowns and says, "She's stealing dogs and won't give me the females!" Catspaws purrs smugly and licks her paw "You got em, Red?", asks Catspaws. Redspice smiles and nods. "Good for her :P", says Catspaws. "Yes... and these are special...", Redspice says. Raphael watches and smirks as Redspice scratches some more "No one warned me about the fleas...", Redspice frowns. "She said she has your dog too, Kaipanther.", says Alsatian with a frown. Alsatian whispers to Kaipanther, "Was it a female Boxer? Can I meet her?" Kaipanther snickers "Nothing worse than a horny hound", says Catspaws with a wink. Redspice squirms and scratches again. Kaipanther eyes Red, "Ye get fleas?" "okay, you need to describe these Alsat, otherwise you leave it to my imagination. ", Redspice says. Alsatian says, "It is a tail. Like any other German Shepherd tail. It is not a Boxer's tail, I am not a Boxer." Alsatian harrumphs. Redspice says, "Going to make a nice little post for them..on the boards..." "Want to make sure everyone knows.", Redspice says. Redspice looks over the post... Senator has boxers stolen by un-named female... yet his run for the presidential ballot continues Alsatian snatches his tail from Redspice's hands. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment with Dr. Fogg now. And don't think your puppy-mill will go unreported!" Alsatian woofs. A savage-looking tailless non-Boxer Alsatian has just vanished.
|
WITH MOBILES