Clunkline

Crap, they’re right behind us! Fill up the boiler with more wood chips!

I’m trying but its kind of hard with you poking me in the back of the head with that stick.

What are you trying to say, my methods are detrimental to team morale and the performance of the boiler?

We consider it a success that our server is still spinning after the global muffin wars. It is to be left to the new chroniclers as to whether our work will perpetuate through the post-muffin ages. For many of us, visions of old new york being consumed by billions of tons of expanding banana nut dough will be hard to forget, and we are cursed with the destruction of photography as a means of documentation for future generations. We will have to rely on verbal sagas and crude charcoal drawings on tanned raccoon hide. Luckily, the increased yeast levels in the water table makes the raccoons multiply pretty quickly.

In any case, we will have users examine our work in many years time once the only extant computer workstation is back up (currently we are trying to repair the motherboard with fruits and nuts) and we have harvested enough live raccoons to turn a massive treadmill-dynamo to power the internet.

We are doing well I think and if the muffin-leftovers last us, we should be able to re-establish agriculture in Greenland (known now as the ‘new midwest’) within a decade. May the clunk see us through!

We rejoin our hero as he is being led through the factory floor by the day manager Mr. Armstrong…

“And here we see the slurry containers, there’s usually enough slurry on hand for ten thousand units.”

Interior, the great outdoors.

“I am a farmer and I farm my cows”

COws” moo”

In walks another farmer with the head of a dead demon.

“Hey check this out I got it from a mysterious black asian gypsey”

Porn has been around for a long time. I recently visited the National Porn Museum in Salt Lake City and saw a moving installation detailing the origins of the subscription porn industry. In the words of industry pioneer Buddy Hilltopper (aged 92 in a 1998 interview):

In conclusion, yes that’s how I’m starting this review because I have the final say, “Echo Chamber” (a production of the cinema ministry of socialist Tajikistan, or so the production values would imply) is a sordid assortment of magnificent melodiousness. Filmed in pan-anamorphic spectrascope, it blasts across the screen at an ostentatious 5:1 aspect ratio. Several scenes require the use of fisheye lens glasses to see all the actors at once.

The tyrant Tanzmetall is deposed! All hail the new imperial majesty of Footay!

The chronicles of this magnificent revolution will long be echoed in song, theater, pornography, and children’s rhymes.

“Great is our need” spoke the king, kneeling. “This is unprecedented in the legacy of our long partnership. The black fleet circles our island-keep daily to intimidate the embattled defenders. Without your intervention, I fear for the future of our people.”
The words dropped heavily in the great chamber and the ears of the on looking Sir Roderick.
Sir Roderick yawned. He let loose a lingering, wailing fart.

Exterior, Cargo Ship Deck. Agents of the international criminal syndicate S.C.O.U.R.G.E. are boarding the SS Nonchalant, a military weapons freighter disguised as a civilian non-weapons freighter. Strewn across the deck are red steel barrels and wooden boxes clearly marked with stamps of “EXPLOSIVE AMMUNITION”. There are thousands more below in the hold, as seen by a SCOURGE agent peering though a port-hole. The agents assemble their weapons and move silently down the deck to the command house.

Scene one: Cesero Borgia receives his pants

Lord Borgia: My son, my son, I give you these pants!