Help! We've been stuck in a bad alien invasion slash Robin Hood B-Movie!
It all started last issue when our editor seemed to die of a heroin overdose. And all of this after the entire cast and crew of Lies was without drugs for almost two months! We thought we could sell ourselves as Betty Ford Center poster children! And if that isn't enough, we've been told that at least every other sentence must end in an exclamation so the audience understands our stress and anxiety! Anyway, so our editor died last issue of a heroin overdose during a party at a friend's [Dave] house. This distressed Dave very much, as he doesn't like to clean the bathroom much. So Dave found our editor's brother, Aaron, and they went off in search of this old Voodoo lady our editor used to sleep with when he was feeling down on himself! She said she would bring our editor back to life if Aaron would sacrifice something he really loved. So, very mysteriously, the palm tree Aaron left with his older brother, Jon, in Florida [see earlier issues about the Florida excursion] died!
Needless to say, the cast and crew was very happy to have their editor back. He was the only one who knew how to work the computer! Well, it turns out that our editor's death was the first attempt in a plot to take over control of Lies. Engineered by Aaron and executed by Steve (Aaron's unwitting lackey in this situation), it seems that the heroin our editor took that fateful night was extremely pure! Instead of the regular black tar our editor was used to, he shot home a huge mother of a hit of this incredibly pure smack (called "white rum" for some reason) into his veins! This caused an almost immediate overdose and death. But our editor is all fine now (like we said earlier) because of that voodoo stuff we talked about earlier! Isn't that great! Because of his treachery, Aaron has been told he can't spend any money on those special gold stamp baseball cards anymore!
About the same time our editor was brought back to life (our editor was, in fact, dead for a few weeks--during which time he took a vacation to somewhere in California), there was an election! Unaware of the impending invasion by a group of aliens from the hidden planet on the far side of Pluto, the voters of the United States (well, those who actually got off their asses and went to the polls) chose to rehire President Clinton for another four years. What many voters didn't know was that Bob Dole (this was part of his "Where's The Outrage?" speech) had intended to implement a full scale Earth Defense System to protect us against these invaders from the planet on the far side of Pluto! To be truthful about it all, many of the third party candidates were planning a much larger defense system, but no one even thinks about listening to them, do they?
So Earth was left unprotected, and the aliens came down and started fucking with things. And that's where we are at the moment! There's one, set for stun! She'll be alright, inform Lord Vader we've got a prisoner! Yes sir! And are you gonna give me a fucking medal for hitting a woman with a .22 of a laser gun with my huge fucking stun gun? Huh? I mean, what kind of sissy Stormtrooper am I? I could hit five broad sides of a barn with this thing and I get to try and aim for a little woman with fucking cinnamon rolls on the side of her head! Christ! Who the fuck is writing this shit! This ain't the first episode of the new Star Wars Trilogy, I can tell you that right now. I mean, you know George Lucas is rolling over in his grave! I mean, if he was dead. That's right, and I get to inform some dumb ass with a respirator that I did this dumb shit! I'm quittin' man! I'm joining the damn rebels! At least they have a woman. We don't even have fucking holo-suites! We can't even have simulated sex! We gotta run around in hot little molded white plastic suits that don't even protect us from laser fire! We might as well be fucking naked. I'm only getting paid SAG scale wages for this! No one is even gonna see my face! I could get more exposure playing an extra in the next fucking Tom Cruise movie! Fuck this, I'm quitting. This is no kind of life for a single successful guy like myself. I could get laid without being an actor! I could be a waiter! Yeah! I could just be a waiter or a bartender and things would be much better! At least I'd get tipped! I'd get free fried food! What else could I ask for? Of course, I get free food on this gig--uh oh, show time!
"Lord Vader, we shot some hot nineteen year old chick with cinnamon bun things in her hair! She shot on of our guys dead, but we only hit her with that broadside of barn stun gun thing!"
"Cut! Script! Who's got the fucking script! He's not supposed to say that, is he? Where's my boy? I gotta make a fucking note, where's my boy!"
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