Superclipium: The Saga Continues
(originally published March 11, 2000)
written by Jon "Mad Cow" Nafziger
scribed by David "Keyboard Boy" Glick
long parenthetical remarks by Bob "actually David" Cetzler
Dear (real addresses withheld), bobcetzler@juno.com,
bob_the_cow_that_hunts_penguins_with_cattleprods@juno.com, fredthecannibal@juno.com, fredthecanofbull@juno.com,
(and all you people who are illegally
reading their mail (we know who you are)),
When we decided to create this issue, we faced a grave dilemma. This was due
to the fact that we really had no idea what in the world (or out, for that matter)
we were talking (ok, writing) about last time. Anyway, we're assuming that
we probably killed off all the main characters, so it probably doesn't really
matter what we start with here.
"Ah! What a beautiful morning day!" Bob exclaimed, taking a deep breath of
the cool Bizorkian "air" as he looked out the "ceiling" at a landscape of rolling
rivers and meandering hills covered with purple grass and green daffodils slowly
being munched by his "cows" (Bizorkian cows hardly count, considering they have
wings, are blue, and are about half the size of their present-day terrestrial
counterparts). Bob (remember Bob? he was at the beginning of that last sentence)
walked over to his garment dispenser and punched in the number 4220, the number
for his muscular enhancement suit, and then 4221, which was his electromagnetic
reflexatory protection headset. (not that anybody cares or knows what that
means, except maybe Jonathan, but he doesn't count (only up to 3) and I (Bob)
think he's just bluffing)
Bob walked out into his pasture and hopped on to his bovinular propulsion sled,
harnessing his "cows" on the way. "Away, away!" called Bob. "On Betsy, on
Bessie, on Whatsyourname and Stupid; on Aasdasrlgkjh, on Harry, on Something-or-other."
And I heard him exclaim as he rode out of sight......um, something unintelligible.
But we're sure it was very profound.
Within seconds, Bob had arrived at the UODRAOJLCAWTOTWNTMOSYDCA (University
Of Dooberial Research And Other Junk, Like Cows And Whatever That One Thing
Was, Not To Mention Other Stuff You Don't Care About), where he worked as an
intergalactic research specialist (and other junk). Today, Bob planned to organize
a takeover of a newly discovered planet where the primitive inhabitants hadn't
even discovered quasihydroradioplasmatic propulsion or the fact that they were
being controlled by mice.
We're tired. The End.
howevertheheckwe'refeelingly,
Jonathan and David
p.s. Wow, we didn't kill anyone that time.
p.p.s. Tune in next time for a special edition, "Superclipium in Hell"
