words 1636: Neo-Hyphenation [continued from words 1397: Hyphenation: The Game] #1: Lisa Harris (lrph) Sat 30 Dec 2006 (05:42 AM) agnitudes in the central core of the super caldera located in the black hill of South Dakota, influencing the autumnal tides and moon ph- rases we hear over and over and over and over and over again, as if no- teworthy things have ever been said about the moon! But in the stillness of that chilly moonlit night, when after all the world did not fulfull the prophesies and end, Gonske popped back into the night air breaking the surface of the inky sea like a cork. Gasping for breath, he realized he was still alive. The world was still the world. He looked around only to see the fa- ther of the bride leering at the caterer; he called out, "Hey! Get y- ellow roses grown in the back yard of dear friends, have a fragrant ar- rest record for arrant buffoonery, gambol and gimble in the wabe, and a very merry n- ap 'cause it's going to be a long, hard New Year's Eve celebration. You are expected to bring a vat of eggnog, a gross of cookies, six roasted turkeys, ten pounds of stuffing, enough yams to choke an ox, all the candy canes that didn't get eaten last week, maybe some green beans - and of course, you'd better set the table. With the GOOD silver. And someone is going to have to make sure the meal is served, everyone gets what they need, and it's cl- eared by Homeland Security, since they're going to be checking everyone's pa- nts, shoes and undies at the door and strip-searching Grandma, but they're really great guys, and they've brought olives and a keg of Glogg, so we are all re- ally glad they came and hope that the eggnog doesn't turn the- atrical like it did last year when little Frank, Millie's highly emotional son, threw a whole pitcher of the stuff right onto the ma- ndolin trio, who then, dripping wet but unwilling to lose their fee, launched into the most savage, gut-wrenching version of "J- ust Another Walk With Thee", leading to two conversions, [one in each direction,] and the sudden incursion of a gang of Unitarians, led by the charismatic Sibling Logging Chain of Reasonable Conversation, who attempted to introduce logic into a situation that obviously called for more eggnog, r- elish and dinner rolls, the latter two having been entirely consumed by Ro- -man legionnaires at the fancy-dress party just the previous night. But they'd gotten what was coming to them when the bla- nket of snow covered their car and made it impossible to le- ap into and drive off before the angry caterers caught up with them and wreaked the most frightful revenge ever seen to be committed by people in cheap tuxedos, and I include the in- famous "Night of the Wedding Singers", AND the appearance of the Liberace impersonators at my sister's Bat Mizvah. I will spare you the details, for I know your innate good taste would prefer that I do so. I will say that only caterers could have devised that particular fiendish t- ortellini-and-shiitaki-mushroom-based weaponry they used on the hapless Romans. Meanwhile, the Unitarians, having their attmpt at logic met with nothing but confused stares, finally decided to hold a p- ie eating contest, to which they invited the Catholics, Muslims, Jews, Methodists, and Episcopalians. The Baptists were no- t able to come, waiting for the Rapture, but the Theosophists were simply o- verwhelmed by the offer, and offered up the Secret Doctrine of piecrust to show their pl- easure at having been remembered. Conversely, the Zoroasterians, completely overlooked, responded with unprecedented fury, cr- apping from a height hitherto considered completely impracticable upon their hapless overlookers. This feat earned them an entry in the Guinness Book of Crapping Records and a perfunctory nod from the mi- ssing Baptists, who heard about it second-hand from the Methodists, who, unbeknownst to the Unitarians, had been hoping all along that the whole affair would erupt into pa- -ndemonium, which, given the strictures of their religion, is one of the few forms of entertainment that they are allowed. Naturally, the crapping incident only f- urther fuelled the fulminating fury of Father Frag-grenade of Fellowship. He took a short walk down to the local hardware store to pu- t down his money for one of the really big chainsaws. "I am not doing it for myseld," he told the confused clerk. "I am doing it for the ch- -ance that they'll make a reality show based on my life, only better, with the role of me being played by dr- amatically handsome, charismatic George Clooney, bringing my message to the world, showing how viciously and unfairly I've been treated." "Er," said the clerk, retreating behind the counter, "doesn't the fact that you'll be dead be a problem?" "Dead? I won't be dead, I'll be in jail, represented by Perry Mason and soon to be out, and receiving proposals of marriage and co-habitation from gorgeous, lewd women!" "But," said the clerk nervously, " the, ah, the chainsaw...." "God, my church, and the President w- ill be my witnesses that I only did what had to be done in defense of all that is good and right. What a trial it will be! And I will own the rights! You'll be able to say you knew me before it all happened!" "That's cool," said the clerk, automatically. "But what are you going to do with the chainsaw? Just out of curiosity." "Do?! Do?!?!? With this chainsaw, favored of the Lord, I'll ca- tepult, I'll careen, I'll crash, I'll......" He stopped, then peered suspiciously at the clerk. "You ask a lot of questions. Are you what you seem? Or....." "What I seem!" urged the clerk, beginning to crouch, while also trying to sidle to the door to the storeroom. "I'm just, uh, me, you know, just a clerk, mere junior clerk, just, uh..." "Son, I believe you. I think you've got gumption. You can join me. I like the cut of your jib. Me- et me at noon by the bandstand, and bring your own chainsaw. Stick with me, kid, and I'll make you a star!" "Cool," said the clerk, furtively rattling the storeroom door, and gr- inding up against it with a savage, desperate lust that had not been slaked for decades. "There now, uh... you know, on second thoughts I think wh- at a feller does with his 'chainsaw' is his own damned business." "That's not what I've been sayin' son! I'm doing the Lord's business, and I'm doing it for yo- kels everywhere! I am Father Frag-Grenade of Fellowship, and I'm settin' me up a cult, and you, son, have a chance to get in on the ground floor as a chief acolyte, advisin' me, drivin' the fine cars I expect to have purchased for me, reviewin' my handmaidens, and poi- soning my rivals. What do you say? You don't want to spend your life tinkering with two-stroke engines, do you? Are you willing to r- esign your will to me and God, bacome wealthy beyond your fondest dreams, worshipped by women, second only to me? How's that sound?" "Cool," said the clerk, "Sounds cool. I'm good on it," now sidling in the opposite direction, "W- hen the Vortons attacked, we were stuck in barns with shotguns against their mechazords and plasma rifles, and your deal sounds way better." "Well, _that_ tale took a tremendous topical turn," said Father Frag-Grenade of Fellowship. Completely without warning, a th- underclap resounded through the building, followed by multicolored flashes. The Vortons were back. And this time they didn't have mechazords, they had pl- asma rifles mounted on their battledroids. The tortured squeal and scrape of buckling metal resounded through the corner shop, and the ArchVorton of Squog III - or perhaps a hologram; Father Frag-Grenade of Fellowship could not distinguish - materialised on the counter. "H- ello, Father Frag-Grenade of Fellowship!" boomed the ArchVorton. "We come in heavily-armed peace! We are from the Galactic Government and we are here to help you! We will help you return to your wholesome tradtional ways while bringing you the advantages of progress. Put this on!" Father F-G of F moved forward in awe. "Is that -- at last -- my Jet-Pack?" "It's a Mother Hubbard, you fool!" hissed the clerk. "Put it on before the ArchVogon lo- use cage is opened. Once those Vogon lice are free in the room, you're going to want it." "But, I just w- as deloused last week- it was no big deal! And I look horrible in a Mother Hubbard!" "p u t i t o n," said clerk, quietly, but urgently. The ArchVorton's voice sac began to pulse. "Is there a problem with my clear and simple helpful directions, made entirely for your own good, even at the cost of my limited time?" Two of his tentacles began quiver. "No, no, your Helpfulness," said the clerk, "we're cool, we're real cool with it. Father F-g of F is just, uh, just overwhelmed with gratitude. And, of course, we humble primitives get confused easy." "Prim-aggh!" said Father F-G of F, as the clerk p- ulled the Mother Hubbard onto him with such speed that it left burn marks on his tender flesh. The ArchVorton extended a nasal protuberance and sniffed inquisitively at the smoke rising from Father's ravaged skin, while he was reduced to helpless whimpering. "There we are. Terribly sorry about the rush, old chap," said the clerk. "But Mother Hubbards are the only known protection against the deadly Vorton extract-liver attack." Still whimpering, Father fixed a baleful eye unwaveringly on the clerk. "As well you know." J- ust then a duck entered. Peering inquisitively at the Arch-Vorton, the fearless waterfowl waddled forward. Suddenly the Arch-Vorton gr- eeted the duck with a swift kick. Dodging the kick, the duck waddled towards the Arch-Vorton. At last, the duck spoke. "What we have here is a failure to c- oncede to a superior intelligence. The time has come for both Vortons and humans to take their rightful, lower place to Duckdom. We are patient- we concede that we have hitherto given no notice. This is now corrected. Five days should be ample to carry out our directives. Anyone not complying will be waddled to death, or f- ed to the ducklings bit by painful bit. Any questions?" and the duck struck a commanding pose. Father Frag-Grenade waved his arms. "How d- o you get down off an elephant?" he said. "Well??" The duck wiggled his tailfeathers and cocked his head. "Quaaa?" "How do you get down off an elephant?" Father Frag asked again. He glanced furtively at the clerk and then over to the ArchVorton and tried to signal one of them to op- erate the game clock. From somewhere outside a voice mused, "Down off an elephant? That's a stumper." The game clock blinked to life. At a glance, they all could see that it said: 7- 6- 5- "You don't get off an elephant!" cried the ArchVorton. "You get down off a duck!! Yes! I've won!!" There was a frozen silence. Father Frag and the clerk began to back very quietly away. "Down off a duck?," said the Duck. "Uh, yes, your, um, Mightiness. A joke." He began to ooze green slime, the Vorton equivilent of perspiration. "Emphasizing the, ah, importance of a duck, as opposed to a mere elephant." "Quaaaaaa?" The clerk smiled. H- anding a trash-can lid to Father Frag, and taking one himself, he very slowly began lowering himself behind the counter. All eyes were on Father Frag-Grenade, particularly the beady left eye of the duck. Silence, broken only by the sound of delicate pearls of green slime hitting the floor, and soft shuffling sounds as everyone but the duck retreated slightly. The duck turned to view Frag-Grenade with his right eye. He waddled a pace closer. "DOWN?" "OFF?" "A?" "DUCK!!!!!??????!!!" "I wasn't thinking! I didn't think! I love duck! I mean, I love ducks! Forgive me!" and Frag-Grenade threw himself flat on the floor. The duck ste- pped onto Father Fag-grenade's prostrate body and began to waddle. Th- inking it was now safe, the Arch-Vorton edged towards the exit. Al- l of a sudden, the enraged duck whirled. "Don't try it, alien fool! As the conscience of this planet, I o- bey my own rule of unforgiving rectitude! You and this, this total non-duck, are banished from my presence!" He turned to the clerk, half-hidden behind the counter. "You are, for the moment, my representative, and, therefore, world leader. You will faithfully carry out my orders. You may or may not be rewarded. Is this understood?" "Er, cool, your, uh, Duckness," said the clerk. "Real cool. I j- ust need to close out my register and I'll, um, be at your service. Your Duckness." "Quaa? 'Your Duckness'? What is that? You will address me as 'D uuuuuude' whenever you are behind the counter." "If I'm world leader, wh- y don't I get any respect? This sounds like a *worse* gig than being a clerk. I can't believe I'm downwardly mobile at my age. Duuuude," whined the clerk. Meanwhile, the ArchVogon could be seen thinking furiously (i.e., dr- ipping viscous purple glop,] while continuing to flow towards the back door. Father Frag stirred, feebly. grasping one of the Arch-Vogon's tentacles. "Take me with you," he pleaded, in a hoaese whisper, "I know the Duck's weakness!" "Doesn't seem to have done you much good," hissed the Arch-Vogon. "I-I didn't have my equipment! All I need is two lemons, 121 feet of cotton twine, a p- ail of duck feed, and one of those detonator thingies that Wile E. Coyote uses!" The ArchVogon's dripping turned mauve with curiosity. "Detonator thingy?" he whispered. "What for?" "Psychological effect!" gasped Father Frag. "Ducks a- re terrified of cartoon violence. Years of Daffy and Donald getting their bills blown off. If only I ..." Father Frag stopped. He couldn't help but notice that the ArchVogon's dripping ooze had gone suddenly quite black. And the Vogon was pointing over Frag's left shoulder with a quivering tenticle. As Father Frag slowly turned to see what was behind him, he began to feel woozy, and strangely giddy, and the whole scene began to wobble. He chuckled a little bit, and then he felt like he was floating. Then he found he was looking up at the glaring sky from the ground. He could feel two of the ArchVogon's cold limp tenticles draped over his chest. There was foul brackish water in his eyes and nose and some in his mouth which he spit out as best as he could. His head throbbed like Ash Wednesday morning. And staring down at him was a ci- gar smoking cartoon character, with a red nose and a huge spotted bow tie. "What the hell are you on, buddy?" asked the character. "You just told me what you see, and I tell you, you're nuts, and I'm insulted. I don't smoke, my nose is normal, and I've never worn a bow tie in my life. I sell building supplies. I wouldn't know an Arch-Vogon from an arch support, and there ain't no duck here." "No- no duck?" "No duck." He peered around furtively. There was the duck. But the cartoon guy was getting transparent. Well, translucent, anyway. Wh- en you got right down to it, it was an important difference. Trans- lucent hid, transparent revealed. An important extentialist distinction. But- why was he thinking this stuff? He was in danger, his mouth tasted like the bottom of a birdcage, and- My God! the Arch-Vogon was trembling! And he couldn't remember the Duck's weakness. "I've got to pull myself together," he whispered. The Duck sn- arfed a bag of Doritos and began to quiver. At that very moment, the bl- eary-eyed (sbied) poked his head in and asked "Have we really not played hyphenation since two thousand and sev-" eral among us don't even know there is such a ga- llant implementation of the ancient rules of chiv- es, finely chopped and scattered over the fin- ancial ruin that followed the great cra- wfish boil held to commemorate the loss of the incomparable lo- co parentis, rendering a steep drop in helicopter pri- geniture, arguing forcefully that the diamonds be distributed eq- ually among th- ousands of un- known soldiers en- gaged in unknown battles and unknown w- eddings, sometimes on the same day and in the sa- ck with the bride, much to the groom's dismay - but the best man ad- vertises his aglet repair kiosk in the de- -epest part of the realm,at the edge of the river A- von near where Shakespeare was born and liv- ened our nights with drugs, music, lies, and s- lippage where banter and drift occurs quite reg- ressively, moving backwards into the ab- yss, to be re- born as a Romance novelist. Riches and fa- stidiousness did not mix well together in that cla- pboard house on th- -rsdays and S- abbaths when the congregation co- pulated frequently. This was un- iversally denounced as un- godly, but the videos of it were going vi- brantly colored and broadcast on the pub- rock circuit, where bands cut their teeth in front of hos- iery sales executives and other cor- ner store owners who con- sistently conflate conflict with con- catenated sentences made up of words with hy- enas braying in the ba- -th, barking mad and be- holden to no one ex- periencing an er- gonomically correct desk ch- ange which would affect the whole outcome if not done as per proto- zoans' strict etiquette to prevent hy-