Punday Night: First week

A collection of bad stories, twisted jokes, and insane people.

Featuring:
NeoVid
ClassicDrogn
Replica (Jonatan Streith)
Zenith Carcine (Jonatan Streith)
Epsilon
Sean
Noe Ch'ònggu
Signus Megido
Keori Yamamoto
Yuusuke (Non-canon)
Yun Ch'òlsu
I Suroe
Teki-chan (Non-canon)
as the storytellers

Also appearing:
Ch'oe Nabi
Skribulous
Triad (Insanity)
Wyvern Neo (Non-canon)
Guyvern (Non-canon)
(\/)ajin
Saul the bartender
and an unnamed extra who gets eaten by his chair
as bar patrons, commentators and random extras

And
The Emperor of the Lobsters (Nathan Baxter)
as the Doc Webster-imitating pun critic

Translations for the more incomprehensible parts.

NeoVid was warming a stool in the Gecko, a half-empty mug of something glowing in one hand. He looked into a vapor and occasisional jets of blue-green flame it gave off contemplatively, trying to tell if it was having any effect, or if he'd have to ask for something stronger. Suddenly, he got an idea. A wonderful, horrible idea. NeoVid got a wonderful, brilliant, EVIL idea.

"Punday Night..." he murmured, a gleam in his eye. He proceeded to turn around on the stool and call for attention. The rather impressive explosion his drink let off from the jostling probably got more attention than his words, but most eyes were shortly upon him.

NeoVid proceeded to tell the first story of the night, of the standing custom in the Gecko to tell tales one night a week, a contest between patrons for the most brain-hurting punchline imaginable... and, because it was said, and because it was the Gecko, and because it was ABOUT the Gecko, it was so.

NeoVid set down his drink, showing everyone that warped smile he got when he was about to do something he knew he shouldn't. "Here's the story of one dimension's greatest businessman, and the memorable end to his memorable life." He paused and finished off the smoldering remains of his drink, then launched into the story. "This buisinessman was 95 years old, and he had been on top of the world that whole time. Even the fact that his last medical exam had left him with the knowledge that he only had a week left to live wasn't enough to get him down. After all, he had been expecting a negative number." NV paused for a few laughs. "Owning the company that had monopolized his universe's greatest breakthrough- matter/information conversion- had made him a lot of enemies, though. Enemies who wouldn't hesitate to string his body up from the flagpole in front of their corporate headquarters if they had the chance. So despite vowing to enjoy his last days, he was going to have to be careful with himself. He made out his will and carried it with him at all times, bought a high security tomb, all that.

"Well, on his last day, he was drinking at his favorite place in the multiverse, the Blue Gecko... finished one drink, smiled, and then, right on schedule, fell face-down on his table. He had told all of his friends what he was expecting, so they knew what to do. They took his will (he had been using it as a coaster), and read his instructions: they were to use a matter/information transmitter to send him straight into his gravesite. He was carrying one of those, too (it was only the size of a cell phone), so they entered the secured number that was provided in his will, and the old man *zapped* away. The guy who had done the dialing looked at the converter's readout, sighed in relief and told everyone..." NeoVid smiled evilly, "'Don't worry, he's safely encrypted.'"

There was a stunned pause, then a collection of groans. "Heh heh heh. Anyone else got some?"

Drogn ordered a Nuclear Winter, then listened to NeoVid's story. Both were finished at about the same time, so he chugged the first half of the drink, let out the resulting blast of Godzilla-like atomic death breath, and announced, "I've got one. It's the story of the honest man, the pig, the bastard, and the devil."

"You see, it happened one day that all four happened on a stinking, mineral mudhole one day, and the devil, being typically nasty, pushed them all in. The pig snorted and squealed, and thrashed his piggy way to where the ground was firm enough to keep from being sucked under and smothered, and was completely covered in mud."

"The honest man yelled with surprise, thrashed his way to where the ground was firm enough to avoid being sucked under and smothered, and was completely covered in mud."

"The bastard cursed up and down, and almost was smothered before he held his tongue and saved his breath enough to thrash his way to where the ground was solid enough to not be sucked under, and he too was completely covered in mud."

"From his hiding spot behind a blade of marsh-grass, the devil laughed at the trouble he'd coused, then wandered off in search of more."

Drogn took a more modest sip of his drink, which was now covered in frost and streaming condensation downwards from the cermet mug. Little trickles of smokey blue special effects danced on his breath as he told the next part of the story.

"A year later, the devil happened past again, and found that the volcanic springs feeding the mudhole had been dug out and expanded, and while the original hole was occupied by a happy family of pigs, the rest had been made into a fancy mud therapy and hot springs resort, where the honest man was now working, and making a tidy living as head massuese. The bastard was richer still, since he owned the resort, and never had to get his hands in the mud personally."

"Plainly, this would never do, so the devil killed several pigs with a blast of fire, stabbed the honest man's customer with metal quills, and summoned a large, heavy book to drop on the bastard's head. Satisfied gain, the devil wandered off once more, but decided he'd better check back sooner to see how things went this time."

Drogn noticed the the glow his drink gave off had started to become irregular, and knowing that a Nuclear Winter undrunk long enough would start putting out more radiation than was healthy for most biological species, finished it off before finishing off the tale.

"This time, the devil came back six months later, to find that all the pigs he'd killed had been replaced by new piglets, the resort had more customers than ever thanks to the honest man's skill, and that the bastard had discovered the book he'd been hit with was an acupunture manual, and added that to the offerings of his even more prosperous resort. Cursing and giving it up as a bad job, the devil stomped away to steal people's car keys and tie cans to cats' tails. The herd of pigs stayed about the same size for years, being slaughtered and barbecued as needed for the monthly roast and party. The honest man retired eventually, and his eldest son took up the job of head masuesse, while the bastard lived life like a party, dying young but passing the resort on to his own son, whose mother had left them, and the resort continued to prosper."

Drogn accepted his new drink before finishing, "The moral of the stroy is that an honest man may overcome adversity, and any pig can be happy in spite of it, but it takes a real bastard to turn it into profit." He saluted the rest of the patrons with his mug, then tossed it back in a long swig.

Someways down the bar from Drogn sat a too-large man with an ugly nose on a too-small stool with a red seat, drinking steadily off of a 16 ounce clear plastic cup of something clear and tasteless and 200 proof.

And, to Neovid, he said, "You're pain for that. 'Tis Tuesday, Punday Night. 'Snot Wednesday. THAT'S when you tell the tall tales." He snorted. "Matter transmission indeed. And YOU," to Drogn, "are paying because not only was it a story, you didn't even top it off with a pun. I think we'll let you off with a warning this time, so long as you don't do it againy."

He smiled, temporarily satisfied, and tossed off the last two inches of his drink.

"Well, bother. Next round after NeoVid's is on me, then." Unusually for him, Drogn actually produced money and handed it to the bartender, two smooth rings of some clear crystal, each about two inches around and 3/8 inch thick, and a third made out of gold, with an inscription around the edge in an unknown language.

"Tsch. Do put a sock in it, won't you?" a soft voice said from the booths. The wouldbe storytellers turned to see Replica leaning against the wall, smiling in her usual disconcerting fashion. She strolled over, taking a seat next to NeoVid. She smiled suggestively at him before returning her attention to the full group. "*I* have a story that might interest you, gentlemen. More than one, maybe, but one for now." She signaled to the bartender. "Saul, my usual." She accepted a glass of Puppetmaster Surprise, taking a sip from the wriggling liquid. Turning around with her back against the bar, she began.

"Well, this story begins with a man. An ordinary man, with an ordinary life. Married. Has a daughter. One of those horrible little darling blonde tots. Got the image? Good." She paused for effect, then continued. "So the girl's birthday is coming up soon, and the man - the father wants to buy her a really special present. He decides to buy her a pet, and goes to the pet store, and what does he see in the window? The cutest, fuzziest little... thing he's ever seen. All pink, too."

"So he goes into the store and asks the shopkeeper, 'What is that strange animal in the window?' And the shopkeeper replies, 'That's Rary.' 'Rary?' 'Yes, Rary.'"

Replica took another sip, pausing only to bludgeon the drink with a straw. "Seeing as the shopkeeper wasn't going to say more, the father says, 'It's really cute and fuzzy. And pink.' And the shopkeeper nods sagely and replies, 'Not only that, but it sings too.' 'It sings?' the father asks. And the shopkeeper nods again and adds, 'And it's low on food too; it only eats an ounce of banana each week.' 'That sounds great,' the father says, 'not only is it cute and fuzzy... and pink, but it sings and doesn't eat much! I'll take it! How much does it cost?' And the shopkeeper replied, 'It's free. It's getting old, so if no one picks it up soon...' So in short order, the father accepted Rary, who was cute, fuzzy and so pink, and took him home, awaiting his daughter's birthday."

There was another break as Replica continued on her drink. Around the room, several other people were listening with mild interest.

"So the birthday came up, and the little girl opened her package to find little Rary peeking out at her. And she picked him up and exclaimed, 'Oh, he's so cute! And so fuzzy and pink!' 'Yes,' her father said, 'And Rary sings too.' 'How wonderful!' the girl exclaimed. She cuddled the little Rary and said, 'Sing for me!' But Rary was quiet, so quiet. And after a few moments of silence, the father said, 'Maybe he's just tired. I'm sure he'll sing later.' 'Okay dad!' the little girl said. 'It's no big deal. He is after all cute and fuzzy. And pink.' Which was true."

"And the days went by, and Rary ate his ounce of banana every week, and the little girl would play with him all day. Yet he wouldn't sing; he remained quiet. But the girl wasn't sad; he was still cute, fuzzy--"

"And pink?" Drogn interjected.

"Oh, yes." Replica nodded, stretching a little. "Well, where was I? Oh, right. And time passed on. Now, Rary started eating more; instead of just having his ounce of banana once a week, he needed food daily. And soon he needed more than an ounce. He grew bigger and bigger, although he was still cute and fuzzy. And pink, of course."

"Of course," NeoVid chimed in.

"Now, at first they thought this was a good sign; maybe now that he's gathered his strength, he'd start singing. But no... Rary was still quiet. And cute. And fuzzy. And, of course, pink."

"Now, the poor family was starting to despair. Rary ate more and more bananas everyday, and this was severely digging into their funds. He had grown so big that they couldn't have him in the girl's room; they had to put him in the bathroom. And they hadn't had the foresight to install a second one, so..."

"Finally, the father had had enough. They couldn't afford to keep Rary, and they definitely couldn't give him away, despite the fact that he still was--"

"Cute, fuzzy and pink!" several voices echoed, some on the brink of annoyance.

"So the father took his biggest wheelbarrow, rolled it into the bathroom, put Rary in the wheelbarrow - don't ask me HOW - and rolled him out of the house. Down the street they went, and into the forest, and across the field, and up a long, steep hill, until they reached the edge of the cliff. And the father said, 'I'm sorry, Rary, but you leave me no choice.'"

"And Rary, cute, fuzzy and pink, looked up at the father with big, moist eyes, and began to sing. And what did he sing?"

The audience held their breaths. Replica cleared her throat, and sang in her best voice:

"o/ It's a long way to tip a Rary... o/"

Much groaning was heard from the Blue Gecko.

Teotl had had his glass refilled, and was faking agony along with the rest of the crew. Still, a tiny little red man sitting on his left shoulder prodded him into saying, "Was the father's name Tim?"

Replica looked at him warily, but gave him his straight line. "Yep."

He nodded. "Well, after buying the thing so many banannas, I expect had Tim bucks two."

"Now, wait," NeoVid began, "I think there's at least one more person who deserves a shot at this..." He smiled evilly. "Unless, o'course, you're scared you won't be able to keep your title, EPSI."

This proved to be a Bad Thing to have said.

Epsilon looked up from the manuscript he was working on and raised an eyebrow. "Thou shalt not call me Epsi," he said softly. "And just for that I shall treat you to one of my less... imaginative tales."

"On a little blue and green mud-ball called Earth there lived a man named Thomas. Thomas owned the largest orange grove in the county. So large was this plantation that he had to hire one-hundred men to pick the trees when the proper season came around. "One day near the end of the season he discovered, quite by accident, that a significant portion of his workers were gay. This did not overly concern Thomas but it did upset the local self-appointed morality police. They staged protests, and boycotts and other uncivil actions against poor Thomas and his crop in an effort to get him to fire his non-straight employees. Thomas would have none of that however, and continued to work his men as if nothing were wrong whatsoever.

"Now the self-appointed judges of moral decency were quite upset by this point. Deciding that action was called for the snuck into poor Thomas's plantation latre at night and burnt down the majority of his crop. Before leaving they also burnt down the housing in which Thomas's homosexual servants resided. Oh no one was hurt, but Thomas was forced to send them on their way."

Epsilon paused to take a sip of perfectly normal rootbeer before continuing.

"The next day his wife found Thomas in his room crying softly. She asked him what was wrong but he wouldn't say. She had a good idea however. 'Thomas,' she began, 'Are you upset because those fools destroyed your orange crop?'

"For a long moment he was silent. 'No,' he finally answered. 'I'm upset because they drove off the Fruits of my Laborers.'"

Epsilon let that sink in and smiled grimly at Neovid. "And that my dear boy is off the top of my head. Orange you glad I didn't have time to juice that story for the grove of puns it presented?"

"I suppose I should be," NeoVid began, "since I'm no glutton for pun-ishment." Groans came from the bystanders. "I'd be stumped if I didn't know how to branch out with my humor." More winces than groans this time. Epsilon was unimpressed, which meant they were about even on that count. "Anyway, here's the story of the nerd and the delinquent...

"Matt and Jonathan were brothers, but they were nothing alike. From the time they were kids, Jonathan never did anything wrong, and Matt did all the bad stuff he could think of... and Jonathan was always the one who got in trouble for it. Early in their lives, it wasn't much trouble, since everyone thought that the way Jonathan was most of the time made up for what he 'did.' But when they were teens, Matt found his favorite way to cause trouble: grafitti. He tagged everything that would hold still long enough to get a coat of paint... and still, no one ever saw him doing it, and the 'problem' brother got all the blame.

"Jonathan had always tried to stop Matt's troublemaking, but never got anywhere. It wasn't like Matt wanted his brother in trouble, though, so he decided to throw the suspicion off of Jonathan, in a way that wouldn't wreck his fun. When Jonathan was brought to the principal's office, the principal would come out afterward to find the windshield of his car had been tagged. When Jonathan was arrested, the cop who did it found his desk defaced...

"But Matt wasn't stopping like Jonathan wanted. One night, Jonathan went to a rave with his brother, just in hopes of keeping him out of trouble. Matt got him a ton of free drinks so he wouldn't have to listen to his complaining, and pretty soon Jonathan was near falling-down drunk. As he staggered off to the bathroom, Matt thought of the perfect way to throw suspicion off his brother and get back at him for trying to cramp his style, all at once... so when he found that Jonathan was out cold in one of the restroom stalls, Matt got out his spray cans..." NeoVid smirked, evil punchline at the ready. "And Matthew marked the loo and Jon."

Over in one corner of the Gecko, the air hissed for a few seconds and reality turned in on itself as a trenchcoated man appeared in the air and collapsed in an undignified heap. This being the Gecko, everyone was used to people appearing from nowhere and people collapsing, so this was barely even worth a glance. The man slowly stood, making cursory attempts to brush himself off. There was a chorus of groans as Neovid said the punchline to his story, and Sean (for that was the newcomer's name) smiled. Tall Tales Night. Not Callahan's, but close enough.

He stepped into the middle of the floor just as people were beginning to recover from the last pun. "I don't suppose anyone will mind a try from a stranger to the town?" he said, looking around at people's reactions. There was a large number of "yeah, sure's" and "whatever's," so he sat down at a table and began his tale.

"My story is about the time the legendary lover Don Juan met his match. It was, oh, twenty years ago when I saw it, for this story is actually true."

"Yeah, aren't they all!" called out one of the rowdier members of the crowd.

"Hmmph. Well this one actually is. Anyways, Don Juan had decided to travel to America for a while, just so he could have some variety in lovers. He danced his way across the continent, staying with women for a night and then vanishing in the morning, just as he had always done. One day, however, he began to hear stories of someone else who was said to be an even greater lover than he. Don Juan was furious at this. He was the world's greatest lover, greater than even the fabled Cassanova! He spent several weeks tracking down the source of these rumors, and eventually traced them to a small town in the Kansas countryside.

"Upon further inquiry with the townspeople, he learned that a man named Ted had come to town recently and was wooing the widow of the late millionare Alfred Stevens, a railroad tycoon. He was staying at the local hotel, and Don Juan set off to see him.

"Upon arriving at the hotel and speaking with the hotel staff, he learned that Ted was staying on the second floor, but was out at the moment. He sat down to wait for him to return to his room.

"Several hours later, Don Juan was suprised to see not one, but two identical men walking towards the room. They introduced themselves as Ted, explaining that nodbody knew they were twins, allowing them to do all sorts of things without anyone knowing, which explained their supposed skill as lovers. Don Juan challenged them to a duel for the hand of the widow, Mary Anne; each day, they would try to win her attentions, and would ask her to choose her partner for the night. The Teds agreed to the duel and asked that the duel be started tomorrow morning, continuing for three days, at the end of which the person Mary Anne chose as her lover would be declared the Greatest Lover in the World. Don Juan agreed and retired to his room at the hotel, confidant of his impending victories.

Sean paused to take a drink from a glass of water, then continued with his story.

"The next morning, Don awoke and set out for the local flower shop. He ordered the largest boquet of flowers he could carry, composed of dozens of smaller boquets, and staggered off towards mary Anne's house, sure that he would win. But when he arrived there, one of the Teds was already there, talking to Mary Anne with and even *larger* boquet, carried there by he and his brother. Realizing he had underestimated the Teds, Don Juan threw the boquet out in disgust and returned to the hotel to plan the next day.

"He went to the local confectionry shop and asked to borrow their chocolate molds for the night so he could create the perfect chocolate for Mary Anne. The owner reluctantly agreed to let him use one of the four molds. Don Juan labored all through the night, perfecting the mixture, creating a new mold unlike any ever made before, etching designs into the surface proclaiming his love for Mary Anne, and so forth. Not once did he dare to sleep, so dedicated was he to creating the perfect chocolate.

"On the second day, he left that night with his now-finished chocolate carefully wrapped in beautiful paper and tied up. When he arrived, one of the Teds was there as well, waiting for Mary Anne to come down and see him. When she appeared, Juan and Ted begged her to choose between them. Opening Juan's gift first, she tasted a small piece of the chocolate and jumped with suprise. It was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted! But when she opened Ted's present and tasted the chocolate (for Ted has also spent the night making chocolate, working with his brother) she swooned at only the smell of it, and Don Juan knew that he had lost again. He returned to his room, knowing that he had to win the third day or he would never forgive himself.

"Waking early the next morning, Juan snuck onto the grounds of Mary Anne's house aand into her bedroom. Waking her, softly, he drew on his years of experience as a lover to arouse her and make love to her, pleasuring her for hours and hours until he was finally too exausted to continue any more, whereupon he kissed her goodbye and left to wait outside the gates of the mansion. He didn't see the two Teds as they snuck in, but could hear them as they also went to Mary Anne and made love to her, switching off when one became too tired to continue, lasting on and on far beyond what even Don Juan could do. That night, Mary Anne declared Ted as her lover and Don Juan was defeated. Devastated by his loss, he threw himself off a cliff into the ocean, too saddened by his loss to live any longer. And thus was the end of the world's former greatest lover, Don Juan."

"'Off a cliff?'" Said one patron incredulously. "Didn't you say this was in Kansas?"

Sean waved at him dismissively. "I meant Kansas, Maine."

"Not bad," said Drogn, sipping at another glowing drink. "But like we said earlier, it needs to end with a moral."

Sean grinned, having anticipated this. "Why, I thought it was so obvious it didn't need to be said. The moral is, of course, that two Teds are better than Juan."

Sean was suddenly caught in a hail of bottles coming from the direction of a table of drunk Asian men shouting insults in both English and Korean. One of the insults caught his ear...

"I learned English in school and I can still do better than that!" Noe Chònggu shouted above the ruckus his cronies were causing.

"Oh really?" Sean asked curiously.

"Chònggu smart guy," I Suroe shouted. "He smarter than you, anyway."

"That's enough," Noe interrupted.

"Care to put your money where your mouth is?" Replica smirked.

"Why not?" Noe said taking center stage.

"This is the story of the old man and the alien. Once in area around the Han river there was an old man by the name of Kim Sangjung. Now Mr. Kim loved to fish. He was out at the river daily sticking his rod in the water and taking home whatever he could."

"Well, one day Mr. Kim was having the time of his life. He had never caught so much in all the time he had been fishing, and that was a long time."

"How long was it?" Yun slurred.

"Shut up!" Noe responded. "Anyway..."

"Mr. Kim was having the best catch of his life when he suddenly turned to the back of his boat and discovered the bass he had caught... Did I mention they were all bass?"

"No," NeoVid smirked.

"Well they were," Noe said without missing a beat.

"Mr. Kim looked to find all the bass he had caught conspicuous in their absence."

"He speak English good," I said to a nodding Ch'oe before being hit in the face with a really big spork.

"Ip takch'yò!" Noe yelled in Korean. "Nan iyagi hago issò!"*

Yun and Ch'oe laughed.

"Anyway," Noe said shifting gears. "He looked around trying to figure out where his fish were and he found an alien standing on the bank of the river surrounded by a huge pile of bass."

"This obviously is not something Mr. Kim was used to seeing. His anger at having his catch taken from him gave him the courage to confront the alien and ask 'What the hell are you doing with my fish?'"

"The alien smiled a bit and replied 'These are my fish.'"

"'They are not your fish,' Mr. Kim yelled. 'What right do you have to take MY fish?'"

"'Didn't you know?' the alien said...

"'All your bass are belong to us!"

As the Posse did to Sean so did they do to Noe.

NeoVid finished another drink, the mug this one was in dissolving just as he finished off its contents. "Not bad, Sean, and REALLY bad, Noe, but I'll take one last shot for tonight. It'd be unfair to keep trying to one-up all you kids. And if you wanna sink to puns that low, Noe, that's cool." A disconcerting smile followed, as he thought for a few seconds. "Ah, got one. It's a story of a drugrunner...

"Alberto was a small-timer in the Thailand-to-California drug trail, and he wasn't making nearly as much money as anyone with some brains, and hated it. So he proved he didn't have two brain cells still working, and ripped off a briefcase with about seven million dollars worth of drugs inside.

"Seven mil was like nothing to the people he was working for, but they weren't the type to let anyone get away with that sort of thing, so they hired a team of pro hitmen from Hong Kong to waste him and bring the stuff back.

"Alberto traveled all around the US, hoping to stay ahead of them and maybe find someplace safe to sell the stuff, but they were always too close. The hired guns were sure to catch him if he stayed anywhere for more than a day at a time, so he kept moving.

"But he wasn't all that bright, like I said. Alberto started returning to cities he had already been through, and even staying at the same hotels. One night he went to his hotel room, briefcase of drugs at his side, opened his door, and found the entire group of hit guys had gotten there first. The last thing he ever heard was..." NeoVid used the standard pause for effect, to enhance the agony. '...Al, your case are belong to us.'"

Several Blue Gecko patrons ran away screaming.

NV opened up another drink. "That's more like it. Heh heh heh..."

Some distance down the bar, Zenith munched on her rancid chicken wings, giggling softly at the story and its pun. (And in case you wonder, the staff didn't accidently give her rancid food. She actually ordered them that way. The Blue Gecko truly caters to everyone.) She cleared her throat. "I have one too, if you want to hear it."

Drogn grinned like only a zany anthropomorphic aardvark could. "And does it have a punny twist on the end, Zen?"

The roach girl smiled. "I suppose it has a... twist of sorts." She gnawed away the last meat from the chicken bone she held, then chewed up the bone as well. "Delicious. Well, this is a story I learned from a forensics medical examiner back home, friend of mine actually, about a crime investigation with some complications as it progressed. It's kinda similar to the game of three cups and one pea... keep your eyes on the pea."

"The trick isn't to look at the pea," the Emperor commented. "You need to watch the cups too."

Zenith shot the solid man a glare, but went on with on with her story.

"On March 23, 2674, my associate viewed the body of Motley Parka and concluded that he died from a shotgun wound to the head. Mr. Parka had jumped from the top of a ten-story building intending to commit suicide. They knew this because he had left a note behind, like they always do in the movies. As he fell past the ninth floor, his life was interrupted by a shotgun blast passing through a window, killing him instantly. What neither the shooter nor Parka knew, was that a safety net had been installed just below at the eighth floor level to protect some building workers, and that Motley wouldn't have been able to complete his suicide the way he had planned."

"Since when did you speak so formally?" Replica asked.

"I'm trying to retell the story like I heard it," Zenith replied offhandedly. "It's all a part of the story."

"Okay. Go on."

"Right. Ordinarily," Zenith continued, "A person who attempts to commit suicide and ultimately succeeds, even though the WAY, the methods, aren't the planned ones, is still defined as committing suicide. However, the fact that Parka's original plan would have been foiled by the net and he'd have been very much alive, were it not for the inconvenient shooting, caused the medical examiner to feel that he had a homicide on his hands."

"An old man and his wife lived in the room on the ninth floor from where the shot had come from. They were arguing vigorously, and he was threatening her with a shotgun. The man was so upset that when he pulled the trigger he completely missed his wife and the bullet went through the window and hit Motley. When someone intends to kill subject "A" but kills subject "B" in the attempt, that someone is guilty of the murder of subject B. Are you with me so far?"

Receiving a fair share of nods, Zenith continued. "When the police arrived, the old man and his wife were adamant. They both said they thought the shotgun was unloaded. The old man said it was his long-standing habit to threaten his wife with the unloaded shotgun, and that he had no plans to murder her. Therefore the killing of Motley appeared to be an accident; that is, the gun had been accidentally loaded."

"So the continuing investigation turned up a witness who saw the old couple's son loading the shotgun about six weeks before the fatal accident. It turned out that the old lady had cut off her son's cash support and the son, knowing the propensity of his father to use the shotgun threateningly, loaded the gun with the expectation that his father would shoot his mother."

"The case now becomes one of murder on the part of the son for the death of Motley Parka. Now comes the exquisite twist. Further investigation revealed that the son was in fact Motley Parka. He had become increasingly depressed over the failure of his attempt to engineer his mother's murder. This led him to jump off the ten-story building on March 23rd only to be killed by a shotgun blast passing through the ninth story window."

"The son had actually murdered himself so the medical examiner closed the case as a suicide."

With that ending statement, Zenith returned to her snack, having contributed her part for the evening.

"Hey, Siggy!" A young man dressed in tropical getup staggered over to the farthest corner of the Blue Gecko. "Tell the guys a story, too!"

Signus Megido looked up from his Scotch and [glared] at his fighter. "Screw you, Skrib. I don't feel like it."

"Aw, c'mon, Siggy, tell us a story!" Skrib insisted, a bit too loudly.

Much to Sig's indignation, several bar patrons picked this up and chanted along with Skribulous.

"Story! Story! Story! Story! Story! Story! Story! Story!..."

"ALL RIGHT, all right!" Sig stood up. "You want a story..."

"Hey, y' don't have to, you know," Drogn pointed out.

"Feh. I'm sick of this, anyway. Might as well begin:

"A while back, there were two kingdoms situated close by each other. One kingdom had a powerful king, and the other had a relatively weak king. The difference (or so everybody said) was that the powerful king had a magic throne, which had the property of making people powerful.

"Well, the weak king wanted this throne, so he had a trusted count raise an army, you know, knights, pages, couriers, the baggage train, etcetera, to capture it by force it.

"The army trudged along for days before they reached the powerful king's castle. The castle entrance was guarded by a huge yellow monster with huge yellow hands. So the army attacked!"

(Unnoticed by Signus, NeoVid had quickly set down his drink and scribbled something on a napkin, then started to pass it around.)

"The huge Yellow Monster ate them all, except for two pages who did not engage in the fight. The pages, being very frightened, hid until nightfall.

"When night came along, the pages peeked from their hiding place and saw that the monster was asleep. The only thing guarding the entrance now was the monsters huge hands draped in front of the opening. The pages, being only 8 years old and all, were able to squeeze through the yellow fingers and gain entrance into the castle."

Sig stopped then to take a draught from his glass.

Then everyone who had read NeoVid's note yelled, "LET YOUR PAGES DO THE WALKING THROUGH THE YELLOW FINGERS!"

"...Dammit," Signus said.

"You're safer if you're completely original," NeoVid told him. "Do go on, kid." He stifled a laugh after that. "Sorry, I've been waiting for someone to use one I've heard before."

"Anyway, to continue my tale:

"Once inside the castle, the pages had no trouble finding the throne. Combined, they were just strong enough to lift it, and were able to carry it out of the castle. The monster gave them no further trouble, since they had the throne and everything.

"After having walked half the night with the heavy throne between them, they were very tired and stopped at a grass house to rest. The farmer who lived there, wanting to steal the throne for himself, let them spend the night in the barn. The throne was "hid" in the farmer's attic.

"Some hours later, the farmer stole into his barn and brutally butchered the two unsupecting pages. Satisfied with his deed, the farmer went back to bed.

"Unfortunately, the farmer didn't count on the throne to be heavier than the ceiling can hold, because right after that, the throne crashed through the ceiling, crushing and killing the farmer and his wife," Sig finished, handing the emptied glass to a passing waiter.

"To sum up, people who live in grass houses shouldn't stow thrones."

At this Triad, who was drinking heavily with Zenith, twitched.

"_That_ Minako-ism was UNNECESSARY!" she shouted, sloshing beer on the floor. then she pulled out a sword and threw it at Sig. It missed. By about three feet, in fact it went through the roof.

"So, whatever happened to the two kingdoms?"

At this point, Sig grew thoughtful. "When the powerful of the two kings found out what happened, he ordered HIS army, which was pretty powerful by itself even without the benefit of the magic throne, to raze the whole kingdom of the ones responsible to the ground. That they did so, capturing the other king's count in the process.

"Of course the powerful king wanted his throne back, so they tortured the count in order to force him to reveal where the throne was hidden. The session went as follows:

"'Where is my throne?' The king demanded."
"'I cannot tell you.' The count replied."
"'Then I will have you killed! Executioner, cut off his head!'"

"The count bravely faced death until the last second, right as the axe is swinging down, down, down...

"'Okay! Okay! I'll talk! I'll tell--'

"But he never did."

There was silence in the Blue Gecko as Signus finally finished his tale. But only for a moment, then the noise level resumed as if it never was.

But during the silence, for that briefest moments, Sig felt satisfied for telling the tale. "The moral of this tale is: Don't hatchet your counts before they chicken. Thank you and good night. I'm out of here."

Keori chuckled briefly at Sig's attempt at humor, then climbed off of her bar stool, sake in hand, and stood on the bar waiting for the boos and hisses to die. She looked around the room thoughtfully, kicked away the drunken hands that were reaching for her leather pants, and began her entry.

"I'm not a religious person, but this one inspired me. It seemed that there was a monk in a monastery who was in need of a bellringer. He put an ad in the classifieds section of the paper, but no one answered. Two weeks went by without any results. Finally, on the day the monk was about to give up, the doorbell rang. The good monk went to open the door, and looked to see a man with no arms standing in front of him. The monk, confused, asked the man, 'Can I help you?'. The man replied, 'Yes, I'm here to answer your ad for a bellringer,'. The monk, even more confused by now, stated the obvious: 'But you have no arms! How can you ring the bells?' The armless man pushed his way firmly inside the door and begged, 'Take me up to the belltower and I will show you!' The monk shrugged, and led the way.

Keori paused and glared at Neovid as he reached for another napkin. She gestured threateningly with her sake bottle before continuing.

"Up they went, all 14 floors, to the belltower, which was full of huge bells. The monk graciously stepped back and told the man, 'Show me what you can do,'. The armless applicant took a deep breath, stepped back, then ran face-first into the largest bell. BONNNGGG!!! The monk was impressed, and said, 'You're doing well, but you need to ring them all at once,'. So the armless man took a few deep breaths, backed all the way up to the end of the tower, then ran full speed into the cluster of bells, hitting them all with his face. BONNG! BOONNNGG! BONGG! Unfortunately, the man bounced off of one bell and flew out of the window, falling 14 stories to his death. The monk ran down the stairs as fast as he dared to the ground below.

"Outside a crowd was gathering, and the other monks of the order were shocked and horrified. A policeman pushed his way through the crowd and asked, 'Who is this man? What happened here?' The first monk stepped forward timidly and answered, "Officer, he didn't tell me his name, but his face sure rings a bell,'."

Keori then climbed down before anyone could drag her off of the bar, and resumed her drinking at a faster pace.

NeoVid tore up the napkin. "You got me. I was expecting the one where his twin brother did the same thing, and they were dead ringers."

"Feh," muttered Yuusuke rather drunkenly from his table, nursing a tall bottle of soujuu. "Goroawase no hanashi o kiku no ga hoshiindarou?"

"Kore ga roujin no hanashi desu. Kono roujin ga nihonjin dakedo nihon no ryouri ga suki jya nakute kankoku no ryouri dake suki. Jitsu wa, kare wa kankoku no ryouri bakari tabenakute nihon no ryouri zenzen tabenai. Aru hi, ichiban sukina resutaran e itta kara sono resutaran wa taitei kankoku no ryouri o tsukuta. Tada, sono hi kankoku no ryouri ga nakatta. Roujin ga okorihajimata ga, atama no kaiten no hayai kyuujinin wa supaa de kim chii o hayaku kai ni itte resutaran ni motte kita. Sono Roujin wa ureshii ni natte kim chii o hayaku tabete shimatta.
Kyaku-san wa "Doushite kare wa okotteitano?" to itta. "Kono resutaran no ryouri ga sukijyanaika?"
Kyuujinnin wa "Sono koto jya arimasen," to itta. "Ano Roujin ni totte, ii 'kimochi' dake hitsuyou desu."

Yuu suddenly burst out laughing as his own bad humor as an errie silence penetrated the rest of the bar, half the patrons wondering if they missed a punchline, the other half wondering what the hell the crazy boy just said. Keori ended up being the only one throwing objects in his general direction, flinging a full pitcher of beer at his head with uncanny aim.

"Nani ittenda, bakayarou!" she shouted. "Koko ni daremo nihongo o wakanneeyo!"

"Urusee onna!!" roared Yuu drunkenly from his side of the room, liquor slopping all over his clothes from his assailant's projectile. "Ore wa---!!....... chou yopparatte shimatta..." His head slumped lazily against the table and he gladly reached out and accepted a bottle of Sapporo that Teki-chan kindly nudged towards his numb fingers.

Teotl slugged back a quarter of his drink. "So drink s'more, an' when ya wake up, ya won't be drunk no more."

"Oh yeah!" Noe shouted from across the room. "Two can play at that game! Boys!"

Yun stood up in his seat, "Segye-ùi modùn kae jung-enùn, musùn kae-ga cheil pparùn kae inji?"

The crowd looked at him in confusion.

"Pòngae! Bwahahahahaha!"

He sat down as I stood up.

"Segye-ùi modùn san jung-enùn, musùn san-i cheil nop'ùn san inji?"

"Nakhasan!"

The posse continued laughing hysterically until the point when Keori hit them all from behind with an empty plastic soju bottle.

The Amazingly Tiny Cat looked pityingly at the boozed-to-hell PsychoShonen, though her vision was not all that clear. This was because, for the past several hours since the beginning of Punday Night, she had been under various tables and behind the bar, busily lapping up puddles of spilled drinks. Luckily, most of the god-level people were pretty neat with their beverages; she hadn't yet come across anything that would make her head explode or cause a black hole to manifest inside her tiny, furry tummy.

Wyvern Neo was sitting calmly next to its partner, sipping a custom mix that was mostly Everclear laced with hefty doses of arsenic and strychnine; a thin layer of liquid mercury flowed along the bottom of the glass for unique presentation and a slight dash of Clorox had been added for improved bouquet. Once the flood of /\/1h0/\/-5p33k had begun, the ex-deity had sadly been forced to zone out, realizing that it should have spent quality time as Master of the Core Universes learning Japanese instead of overcomplicating the rules of conduct. ~If only I'd read more manga instead of watching FY over and over again just to mock the bad treatment of the villains...~ It shook its head sadly, then suddenly caught sight of Teki on its table. The critter was trying to push her head inside Yuusuke's right breast pocket; Neo recalled that the 'Shonen had stashed a half-finished Snickers bar in there earlier. Furrowing its brow, the androgyne poked a nearby bar patron in the ribs and asked, "Say, dear, will you tell me something? Is that little kitty over there really munching on my compadre's leftovers, or is it me?"

"Cute cat, sweetie," crooned the drunk guy only a second before his barstool ate him alive.

Wyvern Neo lifted an eyebrow as the slavering piece of furniture lurched out the door. Mostly this was because it realized that, for some reason, Teki was interacting with somebody else. Usually all the people from the Core couldn't do that anymore...

"Tell that cat to stop mooning the room!" somebody yelled from across the way. Teki shook her head free of the ragged Snickers wrapper and looked up. She turned away from her still-muttering victim (who was now short one-half of a candy bar) and sat down on the edge of the table, looking out over the bar. "A...ah? Mou?" The patrons looked at her curiously. Realizing that she had their attention, the ATC chewed on her toes for a little while, then lauched into her story.

"Bwaaah? AH?? Ooo... Brrrrrahh? Ah? Aaaah? M'. M-mou? Ah? M'. M'... Dwah? Mwaaah? Ooo... Ooo? Ah-ai?? AI?? AHH?? ...Mouuuuuuu... Oooo... Bwa? Bwaaaa? Ah? Mwah! Mwah!! Mouuuu... AH?? AAAH?? M'...mwah? OO! ...Bwa??" She paused momentarily for dramatic effect, then lauched the kicker. "AHHHHHHH!! Bwa...? O-Oo!!" Having completed her contribution, she meeped happily, turned back around, and proceeded to clean her butt.

The room was silent for quite some time. The drunk people were pretty sure that they were just hearing things and were looking around for more booze, while the mostly-sober people were wondering whether that huge string of kitty-noises was supposed to have a point or if the cat in question just wanted to be let out onto the porch. After a minute or so, a sudden light began to dawn in NeoVid's eyes, followed by a slightly askew smile across his lips. Everybody jumped in alarm as he started laughing hysterically, quickly getting to the point where his head was on the table, one hand feebly pounding on the wood next to it. "YES!! Oh GOD, that was RICH!!" He drooled helplessly on a cocktail napkin, still laughing like a maniac.

"Eew," (\/)ajin commented, giving his teammate a slightly disapproving glare.

The PBA[S] Wyvern, sitting in the shadows next to the Neo version, scratched its head and took a swig from the bottle of bourbon that it held in one clawed hand. "...I don't get it, man. Where the hell was the punchline?" it complained.

Neo snagged an empty soujuu bottle and clubbed its other self over the head with a growl, offering no further acknowledgement of the Guyvern's presence. "Teki-chan, I TOLD you that you shouldn't tell jokes like that in public, dammit!"

"Bwa?" Teki asked, her head cocked innocently to one side. Meanwhile, 'Vid seemed to have choked on some Chaos and was coughing heavily in the background.

"No, not BWA. Neo," the Wyvern corrected.

"...Bwa?"

"...Never mind."

The kitty, having quickly forgotten this exchange, walked over to a puddle of spilled beer under Yuusuke's arm and began slurping joyously. Suddenly, she looked up with a noticeably queasy look on her face.

"Uh oh," murmured the Guyvern, still nursing the stump of a horn that had broken under Neo's bottle.

"Yep. She's gonna blow," the androgyne Wyvern noted casually. The animated wall behind it was poised to shield it from any flying debris.

Teki-chan hunched up and started making the Very Bad Noise. "Hh-GUCK. Hh-GUCK. Hhhhh..."

"DUCK AND COVER!" yelled the Guyvern, coincidentally diving under the same table as Keori (who had quickly realized what was going on).

"...GUCKPSHTHhh!" *splatter* The liquid bork hosed down one half of the table and dribbled onto the floor at the exact same instant that Yuusuke managed tro pry his eyes open again. Teki looked extremely dazed in a cute kind of way.

Yuu immediately turned green around the gills. "...Incoming," he gasped as he keeled to one side. The Wyvern managed to look terrified just in time.

"[[G_A_G]]."

Neo closed its eyes and maintained an aura of complete calm. "...How toasty warm your digestive fluids are, Yuu-kun," it said tranquilly as it pondered how best to clean the colorful stains off of its pants and riding boots.

"Heh. Prime got barfed on," the Guyvern gloated evilly as it duct-taped its horn back into place, still hiding under its table.

"Ugh...gomen...," the schoolboy mumbled, grabbing somebody's glass of ice water and tossing the cold stuff down the back of his neck, still looking a bit sick. He accidentally caught sight of his handiwork as Neo sipped at its drink, gazing off into the distance. "Jesus, I don't remember eating that..."

By unspoken agreement, it was quickly decided that Punday Night was over, before Neo did something else.

...for now.

TO BE CONTINUED?