The Fantastic Adventures of Allen Ruskin in the 25th Century

"Egads, what the Devil are you?" asked Ruskin, his devilish desire device deflating down drastically.

"Whatever do you mean?" asked Princess BigLots. Alcoa and Trout looked equally nonplussed, all three with their space pants down around their ankles.

"They're not human!" squeaked Pip.

"Of course we're not human," said Trout. "Humans died out long ago."

Pip squeaked "But you're ...."

"Yes?" asked Princess BigLots.

"But you're ...."

"Yes?" asked Alcoa.

"But you're ..."

"Oh dammit, Pip. Anyone can see they're castrati. Come on, give us an aria," said Ruskin, looking around for pants with which to cover his seriously shrunken shock stick.

"We're not castrati," Trout said saidedly.

Ruskin picked a rag off the floor and started wrapping it around his legs like a diaper. "Then what the hell are you? And are there no pants in the future? Honestly, if I knew the future was going to be like this, I would haven't even have bothered."

"But you're ..."

"Blast your eyes, Pip. You say 'but' one more time ..." threatened Ruskin threateningly.

"But ..."

"O.K., that's it!" shouted Ruskin, leaping at his young charge like a jungle jaguar juiced on java.

"But they have no butts!" said Pip, fleeing.

"They also lack other things, which make them completely useless to me. Do you still have sheep or cattle or something in the future? I'd take house cat, if you have one," said Ruskin with annoyance. He took a swing at Pip. "Can you pull other people out of the box?"

"We're robots," said Princess BigLots, the space where her nether regions should have been nethering reflecting back Ruskin's disgusted visage. He had often dreamed of seeing his own face staring out at him from a woman's unmentionables, but not like this.

"Great! Just great! Why did you even bother then? What use am I?"

Princess BigLots blushed, "I, I, I wanted ..."

"Dammit! You're worse than Pip there, and even he can spit it out on occassion!"

"I, I ..."


"I wanted to learn about 'sex.'"

Ruskin stammered, "Well, that completely strains credulity. You'd have more luck learning how to fly!"

"We can fly," said Alcoa, rising a foot off the floor.

"You are no relation of mine!" screamed Ruskin. "And, my lady, if I can even call such a devilish creature like you a lady, considering you are no different than the other two standing next to you, why would you want to learn about sex?"

"Actually, Princess BigLots stumbling across your box was my doing," said Trout cautiously.


"We've cloned humans ... all the important ones. The first black United States president. The first woman United States president. The first highly intelligent beaver United States president," explained Trout in explanation.

"'Highly intelligent beaver,' I like the sound of that," said Pip.

"You, put a garter in it!" yelled Ruskin. "So? What do you need me for?"

"I want your pillar to be the foundation of the new world," said Trout.

"Come on, just say it," spit Ruskin.

"I want your moans to be the clarion call of the future!"

"Come on, be plain."

"I want your genetic code to be the spiral ladder to the heavens!"

"Out with it!"

"I want you to put your third leg in whatever the applicable orifice is and make us more humans."

"What! No more newspeak from you!"

"I want you to have sex with anyone you can get your hands on."

"What? Don't toy with me!"

Trout made several hand gestures.

"Oh, that. Well, of course! Anything I can do to help futurity!"

"With the emphasis on 'do!'" laughed Pip, happily.

"Indeed. Come, to the cloning room!" ordered Trout.

"Where we will certainly come!" giggled Pip.

"Indeed," answered Trout.

"The deed! Yes!" guffawed Pip.

"O.K., let's get moving."

"We'll be doing some moving!"

"Are you going to stop?"

"I won't stop til I get enough!"

"Please, let me take you."

"Let me take you!"

"Will you shut up and come on?"

"I'll up come on you!"

"O.K. I've had it."

"Have you had it?"

There was a crack and a fizzle of ozone. Pip lay flat on his back, a burning mark the size of a halfpenny smoking in the middle of his forehead. Trout pocketed his laser gun.

"Well, I hope that didn't hurt too much," said Trout.

"Do ... you ... like ... the ... hurt?" croaked Pip, before Trout blasted him several more times.

"Honestly, he'd be a good boy toy if there was someone around to shoot him in the head every day of his life," said Ruskin, shaking his head.

What's next for our intrepid infidels? Stay tuned.

1 comment:

Grendel said...

0 equalling speechless.