Quinquennial blogsploitation, pt. 2
First! An entry for chrispiers
, who is celebrating 40 long years of life today! Herzlichen glückwunsch zu deinem Geburtstag, Alter!
Here is a present I conceived for you when I flirted with the idea of offering short script commissions so I could afford to keep my website online (maybe I will still do this). This would be the sample script:
Panel one!: LARGE PANEL! ACTION EXPLODES ONTO YOUR LAP LIKE HOT SOUP. Astride a large, tubular space rocket, a strapping man of middle age wearing a skin-caressingly tight lab coat and one of those round metal things on a headband that fictional doctors wear on his head punches a large shapeless mass of gelatinous goo, splattering gobs of protoplasm all over his mustache and greyed temples. With the hand that's not punching, the man reaches behind him toward the buxom nurse who hangs out of the rocket's cockpit with forceps in hand. The rocket is pouring out smoke and spiraling toward oblivion, inside a landscape that appears not to be empty space, but rather a floating, world-encompassing ocean of floating orbs and masses of various colors, not unlike the enormous blob with which our hero now grapples.
DOCTOR!: Nurse! Forceps!
CAPTION!: Tearing through inner space, the mighty Hardcore Dad struggles for life astride his nanonautical ship the Pocket Rocket 6900! But it's not his own life for which he struggles now! No, indeed, selflessly, altruistically, ruggedly and barrel-chestedly, Hardcore Dad frotters the leg of destiny as he battles in his deadliest skirmish yet! It's...
TITLE!: DOCTOR HARDCORE, DOCTOR DAD vs. CHRIS' MONO!
Panel two!: The ship crash lands unexpectedly on a much larger floating mass! The ship itself penetrates the surface and remains stuck, engorged in the fleshy mound! Hardcore Dad and the goop with which he was struggling tumble forward off the ship's hull! The nurse flies backwards!
CAPTION!: Unable to stop once they had really gotten going, the Pocket Rocket careens toward its fate as it plunges into the surface of an unknown micro-organism, tossing off not only Doctor Hardcore, Doctor Dad and his opponent, but the lovely Nurse Bovary as well!
HARDCORE DAD!: UNF!
Panel three!: Hardcore Dad recovers to his feet, wiping off goop and various debris. The Nurse stands up and rubs her aching hindquarters.
HARDCORE DAD!: Nurse Bovary? How's your rear?
NURSE: A little sore, but otherwise okay, Doctor. If the surface here hadn't been all lubed up and slippery, it would have been a lot more painful! How's your "patient," Doctor?
Panel four!: Hardcore Dad looks down at his felled opponent who is crushed by the crashed rocket and spits in his "face." The nurse looks on longingly.
DOCTOR: It looks like the Pocket Rocket going down on him finally wiped him out for the count.
NURSE: Was that it? The mono?
DOCTOR: Nurse, you ignorant slut. That wasn't the mono, that was just one of many mangled and mutated spermatazoa I've found floating around this boy's insides. No, the mono would be bigger. Much b...
Panel five!: A look of shock and pleasure crosses the doctor's face. The nurse longs for his body of knowledge.
NURSE!: Doctor, what is it?
DOCTOR!: Hah! It took a lot of fumbling and a good bit of luck, but we finally hit the right spot! I've waited my whole life to tangle with a mono germ, and now that I've crash landed here, I'm finally going to rub one out!
Panel six!: The nurse looks away in awe and shame. The doctor unbuttons his lab coat and begins to undo his belt.
DOCTOR!: Nurse, look away, as this won't be pretty. Someone here is looking for a spanking.
Panel seven! This is probably another page by now!: The nurse looks down at her watch and calls out to the doctor, still not looking his way.
NURSE!: Doctor, wrap it up! Wrap it up!
DOCTOR (off-panel)!: I'm coming! I'm coming!
Panel eight!: The doctor, now covered in blood and unknown liquids, dashes back toward the Pocket Rocket. The nurse looks up at him hopefully.
NURSE!: Was that it? Did you finish?
DOCTOR!: Unless I'm mistaken, those shudders you just felt should have been the death throes of a micro-organism, or la petite mort, as the French say! Now let's go! These shrinking/growing pills are only supposed to last four hours at a time!
Panel nine!: The Pocket Rocket flies away from the surface of the giant, though now tinier in comparison, germ, whose tongue hangs out and whose eyes are Xs.
CAPTION!: His mission probably completed, Doctor Hardcore, Doctor Dad and Nurse Bovary rush away from the scene of their dirty deed, unlikely ever to call again as the Pocket Rocket grows uncontrollably!
Panel ten!: Chris sits in his sick bed, fiddling with his iPhone, unaware of the tiny rocket that has just flown out of his insides.
CHRIS!: DOOP DOOP DE DOOP! ROCK MUSICS!
Panel eleven!: Pop! Hardcore Dad and Nurse Bovary return to normal size by Chris' bed.
CHRIS!: Sh---ing d--- n----es! Hardcore Dad! You're back!
DOCTOR!: That's right, Chris. And we wiped out your mono--THE HARD WAY.
Panel twelve!: Chris swoons with appreciation.
CHRIS!: Oh, Hardcore Dad, in times of crisis, there's no man besides you I'd rather have inside me.
CHRIS! 2!: What do I owe you for this service?
Panel thirteen!: Hardcore Dad lights a pipe and looks down at Chris paternally.
DOCTOR!: A strapping young man like you, suffering from the kissing disease? My pride is payment enough! Just call me back when you've got crabs!
Panel fourteen!: Hardcore Dad and Chris share an exploding low five!
SFX!: LOW FIVE!
You'd pay money for that, right? I mean, I'm no finkenstein
, but who is, amirite?
What was to follow was more links from the old days, but instead, my internet connection decided to go away for like ten hours, so maybe more tomorrow?