The Passenger

The post I had hoped to bring you (and its sequels) are not yet fit for human consumption, so I bring you a short film instead. Not by me, obviously, as that would have entailed a lot of hard work. No. This film is by Chris Jones and can be found on YouTube (good old YouTube - The saviour of lazy bloggers everywhere) or at his home page. If you have seven minutes to spare I certainly recommend watching it. It really is very good!




For those of you who wondered what I meant by last Sunday's crackBOOM post - because you didn't read the secret text (kudos to xl, and probably Princess too for finding it), not that it was particularly revealing anyway - I had found myself plunged into a pit of despair and despondency, and couldn't get out of it to read all of your blogs, not to mention keep mine up to date. I managed to heave myself out, though, but not in time to finish the planned Hallowe'en postings. Sorry.
Anyway, I've left a hint on the aforementioned post if you do feel like reading it, and here are the snips from the comments that prove xl (and probably Princess, but definitely not BEAST) found the text:

'How many nipples hae ye got?'*

29. Good Omens, by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman

Funnily enough, I liked this book better before IDV arrived on the scene. The bit where the angel Aziraphale takes up residence in rubbish medium Madam Tracy's body as they ride to avert the apocalypse on her elderly scooter (complete with Witch Finder Sergeant Shadwell on board), is now quite poignant.

Clicking here will take you to L-Space, where you can read some quotes and annotations from the book.

* from page 169.

30. Nero, by Mike Johnson, Tim Jones & David Messina

No you're not having deja vu, I have already read this book and posted about it. As you can see here - It's number 13.

31. Star Trek: Countdown, by Tim Jones, Mike Johnson, Roberto Orci & Alex Kurtzman with art by David Messina.

Ummm... Yeah, I've read and posted about this one, too. Although, at least this one was from last year...

32. Strata, by Terry Pratchett

"The excavation showed the fossilized plesiosaur had been holding a placard which read. 'End Nuclear Testing Now'.
That was nothing unusual.
But then came a discovery which did intrigue Kin Arad.
A flat earth was something new..."

~ ~ ~

Yes, I know it's Hallowe'en today. No, this isn't the Hallowe'en post. I'll post it this evening when it is actually Hallowe'en.
Sorry I haven't got around to visiting your blogs lately - I've been somewhat... Inconvenienced.

What? Didn't anyone read the secret text in the last post?

* sigh * I don't know why I bother, I really don't ...

Oh, bugger.

I have inadvertantly ended up in a Dark Place. Quite which one I do not know?
As long as things go my way, I shall be out for All Hallows Eve.




Mwah hah hah hah haa!

The Freakin' Green Elf Shorts Map update

CyberPetra has finally rid Denmark of the 'Shorts. They are now safely ensconced in the mitts of Donn in Canada. So, with that in mind, I've updated the 'Shorts Map to show their latest global position:


As regular readers can see, I haven't yet redone the map as I've often threatened. I'll do it next time, I promise!

Anyway, Donn is holding the FGES Caption Competition as we speak. If you want to enter for a chance to feel the combustible fibres of the infamous 'Shorts rasping against your skin, then may I suggest you get yourself over to Donn's and leave a caption forthwith. I won't be entering again as I've already had the 'pleasure' of hosting the diabolical garment. However, any captions I do leave will be on behalf of Tim, who says he doesn't want the 'Shorts anywhere near his "awesome manparts" - his own words (and quite frankly, who are we to doubt him? I've even offered to inspect them and issue a certificate as to their awesomeness, but Tim has, strangely, yet to get back to me...) - but I think he secretly does!
For those few of you who have no idea what The Freakin' Green Elf Shorts are, click here for MJ's Definitive History.

Good luck!


P.S. Sorry I haven't got back to you in the comments of the last couple of posts, or even visited your own blogs lately, for that matter - Time has escaped me, but when I finally catch up to it, I'll pin it down so I can be more sociable.

Night* of the Living Lunch

The zombies seemed particularly eager this morning on my walk to work. As I upped my step from shuffle to plod to match their gait and, therefore, not draw any undue attention, I did a mental inventory of my bag in case I had to suddenly scarper to escape the massing hoardes. I wanted to be sure I had enough supplies to keep me going should the End Of The World arrive ahead of schedule.
I had a box of maple & pecan cereal that I had the foresight to put in my bag last night lest I forget to this morning. There were two apples, one from our tree and one from The Parent's, a slice of carrot & orange cake that The Mother brought around yesterday afternoon, and the wra-

Shiiiiiit! I'd forgotten my lunch!

I'd made a chilli chicken wrap this morning and left it in the fridge! I was so dejected that I thought about throwing myself in front of the nearest zombie and ending it all. Luckily, one of the SubC's stepped in and pointed out that SP may bring my lunch with him when he leaves for work so I could retrieve it from him at lunch time.

Not long after I got to work, I had an email from SP. He said he'd stop by my office and drop my lunch off when he comes to work. Yay! My belly's anticipation would get its just desserts. or main course, even.

Tragedy struck, however. He called me later - the line was really bad - and through his garbled words I heard him say he got stuck and couldn't make it. Oh no! I thought, I'd forgotten to tell him about the zombies! After I blurted out the story of my journey with the living dead this morning, he told me to stop being a silly witch and that he was just in a traffic jam. It turned out that there were no zombies milling about and that what I saw earlier must have just been the dead-eyed call-centre employees on their way to work. I wasn't convinced, though - I'm sure some of them must have been the undead.

SP emailed me again once he'd got to work and told me he gave my lunch to one of his work colleagues! Waaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh! My lunch!



* Although, technically, it was day...

Re-Coven-ing

A flash of light illuminates the whirling dust and coalesces into a figure. As the light dims, details can be made out. It is tall and appears to be wearing a cloak and a wide brimmed, pointed hat. As the light dims further, more details start to become apparent but, before its facial features become discernible, it raises a slender but male arm from within the billowing cloak and pulls the hat's brim down obscuring his face. His head sweeps from side to side, observing the featureless surroundings, except that there are features. Or, at least, there were. Remnants of things past litter the flat landscape: Old stories lie crumbling like fallen buildings. Narratives and tales wind through the old stories in advanced states of decay like the dead sloughed skins of giant serpents. Thoughts and ideas, once articulate and animated like birds in flight now lay where they fell, husks of nothing.
"Hmmm..." the figure mutters to himself. "This will do nicely" and he withdraws his other arm from the cloak, the folds of dark fabric catching and falling from the staff he holds. But it's not really a staff. The skyward pointing end is bound by stiff bristles and the long shaft is gnarled and twisted. The figure raises the broom and then quickly drives it down again, striking the dust.

Another flash of light heralds a second figure. Not as tall as the first, but also not as slight. It has a sculpted, athletic look to it - definitely male. Although appearing topless in the initial blinding light, telltale folds on the edges of the broad shoulders and narrow waist and hips disappointingly reveal that the lithely muscular man is wearing a fitted t-shirt. As he nods in greeting to the first figure and also surveys the surroundings, a third flash of light signals the arrival of someone else.

This one looks most peculiar in the fading bright aura. Very tall but, at a second glance, the height appears to be down to aides. Specifically, high heels and a towering wig. His eyes - despite the heels and wig, this one was most definitely a he - his eyes are surrounded by a halo of glitter as is his pouting mouth. His lips are full and slick with gloss and sparkling lipstick. An almost sheer, iridescent mermaid dress split to the upper thigh clings to his body and shapely legs before fanning out around his killer heels.

The fourth and fifth flashes of light don't appear as bright as the first three, but only because the sky around them is lightening in a sort of pseudo-dawn. The dust that had been swirling around in the breeze and filing down the ruins is almost all gone now leaving the plain flat and smooth. These final two figures appear to be male and female and they are bickering. The male, who wears a sensible anorak, carries a Roy Cropper bag full of Tupperware containers of, what smells like, chickpea curry. Resting atop these tubs are various types of tropical fruit but, strangely by their absence, no pineapples - Must be something to do with mau mau? The shapely female is barely wearing a plunging fitted top and carries a long leather whip which she threatens her companion with when unleashing a particularly nasty epithet aimed at him.

Suddenly, a shrill tone pierces the still, quiet atmosphere - It's an annoying Nokia-style ringtone. Four faces wince and turn to glare at the male carrying the bag, their eyes narrowed. The man in the anorak rummages frantically in his bag, spilling fruit everywhere until he pulls out an apple, but not of the fruit variety.
"Yes?" he hisses, answering the slab-like mobile phone. An authoritative, strident voice bellows from the tiny speaker, distorted by the volume. "But I'm in the middle of something" he whined. The distorted voice shouts something else. "No. It's really important." More harsh volume erupts from the phone. "But it's my day off!" What sounds like a scoffing laugh comes from the speaker. "But-"
"Oh, for Christ's sake!" the woman snaps and snatches the phone from the cowering, flinching man before throwing it to the ground and grinding it beneath her heel.
The other three figures breathe a collective sigh of thankful relief.

"This place is ripe for the taking" the First says only just loud enough to be heard over the whispering wind and still glowering at the ex-phone wielding man. "Come, let us gather our armies of darkness. Flying Monkeys, to me!"
"Red Shirts, assemble!" the Second commands.
"Entourage!" says the Third, snapping his well manicured fingers.
"Come hither, my League of Extraordinary HouseBoys!" the Fourth barks.
"Banana Splits" sighs the Fifth, clearly not entirely happy with his milling army.

The Second laughed as he observed the gathered troops. "The nightmare that became a reality and spread throughout the blogs" he observed in his best Captain Kirk voice.

And the Age of the Second Coven begins...

Oink! Farewell Piggy.

MJ emailed me this morning with some very sad news: Alas, our friend Piggy has passed on. Left this world for something new.

Piggy in his normal attire.

Anyway (Piggy's favourite word), I was privileged enough to have met John and Martin, aka Piggy & Tazzy, two years ago. I was pleased to discover that, as well as being a moaning, whinging, ginger cunt (Piggy's favourite insult), Piggy was also an intelligent, funny, opinionated (in a good way, of course) and loving man.

Piggy: You will be remembered fondly and with love. And also for your bum-bearing antics!

We can just kiss his arse goodbye.

Tazzy: You have my love and deepest sympathies.

If you didn't know Piggy very well, or just want to remember him and his antics (both real and made up), please visit MJ's blog by clicking here - MJ helpfully has a category in her blog labelled 'Piggy'.

Images courtesy of MJ.

Cusp Trek IV: Le Voyeur Homo

Continued from Cusp Trek III: The Search For Sanity...



 "How do you feel?" The computer intoned, growing ever more shrill. "How do you feel? How do you feel?"
 Cardboard Cut-out Spock just looked at it blankly until a scraping noise from behind distracted him. It was his mother, Cardboard Cut-out Amanda.
 "[silence]?" she asked her seemingly bewildered son.
 "[silence]" Spock replied.
 "[silence]" Amanda explained to her son.
 "[silence]"

Look. This does go on a bit, so let's just skip it. It's not even that important. Why would you even want to stick around not hearing what two cardboard cut-outs are not saying to each other due to their lack of vocal chords?
Spock's not even that important in this story anyway.
Oh, and if you're wondering why they're made of cardboard and not real bloggers, it's because Tim, split into his Virtuous and Vicarious halves, was playing both Kirk and Spock respectively in the first two Cusp Treks and now that he's become amalgamated he can't play both again.
Don't bother asking why someone else couldn't have played Spock and Amanda - The budget is already through the roof!

~ ~ ~

 "Right then" Tim said as we all stood next to our captured Dra'Kling Bus-class vessel Priscilla before boarding. "Are we all ready to go? Scotty?"
 "Aye, Sirrr" Eros confirmed, attempting to roll his R's in a Scottish accent.
 "Bones?"
 "Aye, Sir" I replied.
 "Sulu?"
 "Ye... Yes, Mr C- I mean, Aye, Sir" Beast flinched reflexively.
 "Uhura?"
 MJ was oblivious as she adjusted her bouffant, trying to cover up her Alien Queen crest with strands of hair.
 "Uhura?" Tim asked again
 MJ looked up at him, confusion slapped across her face. "Me?" she said, pointing at herself. Then the penny dropped. "Oh. Yessss. Me. Aye, Ssssir" she hissed at last.
 "Didn't you used to be Miss Scarlet? And drool less?" Before MJ could reply Tim shook his head as he noticed Chekov at the end of the line. "Never mind."
 "Chekov?" he questioned, leaning in for a close look. "CyberPete? Is that you under that Davy Jones wig?"
 "No, Sir. It's me: Princess!" Tim blushed as Princess curtsied at him suggestively. "'Petra said he had some business to attend to and asked if I could take his place. I said yes as I had nothing in particular on..." Tim's eyes widened at the obvious double entendre. "I had clothes on, of course!" Princess suddenly screamed, and batted Tim's shoulder then winked at him much to my disgust. "Ooh, you are awful!"
 "Oh gods" Tim muttered. "Right. Come on. Let's go before we have any more unannounced cast changes."

~ ~ ~

 "Shhhhit. What the Hell isss that beeping? Why won't it sssstop?" MJ flailed at the toggles and buttons on her communications switchboard desperately. "Why the Hell didn't I ressssearch thisss Ssstar Trek malarkey? And I musst try to stop hissssing, too." she continued to herself. "Oh, hang on..." she muttered as a comm channel came to life. "Uh... Tim, I mean Captain Kirk?"
 Tim turned in his seat, leaving the others to continue the discussion about the stacking ability of Lack tables from Ikea. "What is it, Uhura?"
 "I'm receiving a recorded message from Lieutenant Trillya of the starship Shepard."
 "Put it on speakers, then."
 After a couple of ham-fisted attempts, MJ eventually found the right control.
 "Do not approach planet Earth. The transmissions of an orbiting probe are causing critical damage to the Earth, almost totally ionizing the atmosphere. All power sources have failed and all Earth-orbiting starships are powerless. It's like gridlock in rush hour around here. The probe has vaporized soap opera sets and characters in Melbourne, Australia - We will not get any more episodes of Neighbours unless we can find a way to respond. Save your soap operas, save yourselves. Avoid the planet Earth at all costs. Farewell."
 "Shit."
 "Uhura, can you let us hear the probe's transmissions?"
 "Aye, Sir."
 A dreadful caterwauling erupted from the the Priscilla's speakers, distorting them horribly. Eventually, after much wincing and eye narrowing, MJ switched them off and we all took our fingers out of our ears.
 "[Silence]" commented Cardboard Cut-out Spock.
 "What was that, Spock?" Tim interpreted. "You think the signal signifies aliens of great intelligence that somehow, are unaware of the signal's destructive nature. You find it illogical that the probe's intention is hostile?"
 "Oh, so you think this is the Probe's way of saying 'Hi there' to the people of the Earth?" I snapped at Spock.
 "[Silence]" he responded.
 "Spock says: 'There are other forms of intelligence on Earth, Doctor. Only human arrogance would assume the message must be meant for man'."
 "Jeez" I sighed, exasperated.
 "Could the signal be meant for a lifeform other than man?" Tim asked.
 "Well, Lieutenant Trillya did say that the transmissions were aimed at Australia" MJ pointed out. 
 "That's crazy! Who would send a probe across the galaxy to talk to Australians?"
 "Not talk, Doctor. Listen" and Princess cocked his head to one side. "The transmissions sound almost like music - It could almost be called singing!" He turned to MJ and asked "Uhura, can you let us hear the Probe's transmissions accounting for regional accent, lung capacity and tightness of gold lamé hot pants?"
 "Yes, Prince- Sorry. Sorry. Yes, Chekov. On speakers."



 "Captain, I pressed some more buttons and twiddled a few knobs and discovered another transmission buried within the main signal. Translating now..." 
 A shrill, petulant voice erupted from the speakers: "Why have you stopped broadcasting Kylie's music? Where is she? And where's my champagne?" We all looked at one another in amazement as we recognised the voice. It was CyberPetra!
 "Well? Am I just supposed to hang around in orbit all day? And on my birthday, too. I demand immediate recompense for this disgraceful lack in standards. I want Kylie singing live for me. I'm not asking for the impossible - Just perfection. Surely you concede that I deserve it? Why can't you people buck your ideas up and resolve this fiasco?" 
 "Well. It seems we've no choice but to find Kylie and persuade her to give an impromptu concert for 'Petra" Tim sighed. "Anyone know where she lives?" 
 "Paris, I believe" I said. 
 "Right. Paris it is then. Everyone got your anti-jet lag pills? We'll be crossing several time zones on the way there."

~ ~ ~

 "Captain!" MJ blurted out not long after we arrived in Paris airspace. "I have live Kylie song! It's coming from directly ahead." She consulted her board again. "This is confusing - It's coming from the hospital."
 "Can you confirm?" 
 "Confirmed, Captain. Kylie is giving a small charity concert to aide the hospital." 
 "We have to get in there and get her to come to Australia with us. We'll need to look like doctors" Tim pondered. "There must be something in this giant dressing-up box of a vessel" he said holding up a particularly vile besequined spandex body suit between his thumb and forefinger and grimacing.
 We all rummaged through the cupboards, wardrobes and closets built into the Priscilla. 
 "Will these do, Cap'n?" Eros said triumphantly as he held aloft three white lab coats with only a minimal dusting of glitter.

~ ~ ~

 In the hospital we quickly located where Kylie was performing, but I stopped by an old lady obviously in pain. "What's the matter with you?" I said as Tim and Princess hurried on to get Kylie. 
 "Kidney... Dialysis" she moaned. 
 "Dialysis?!" I was aghast. "What is this, the Dark Ages?" I muttered as I reached into my bag and produced some pills, giving one to her. "Here. Swallow this. If there's any problem, call me." 
 As I strode down a corridor to find Tim and Princess, they found me.
 "Oof!" I said as the stretcher they were pushing bashed into my leg.
 "Run!" Princess cried, bashing me again with the stretcher. 
 "What's going on?" I said running alongside them. "Who's under there?" I pointed to the struggling mound on the stretcher covered in a sheet.
 "Kylie" Tim said. "She wouldn't come willingly so Princess stuffed her mouth full of tongue depressors to stop her protesting and we... Well, we kidnapped her."
 "Oh, gods..." I swore. 
 As we careered down the long corridors towards the exit, I spied some commotion around an old lady's bed - The same old lady I'd hurriedly treated on the way in for kidney failure. 
 "The doctor gave me a pill and I grew a new head! The doctor gave me a pill and I grew a new head!" she shrieked from both mouths.
 "Oh, drat! Wrong pill" I muttered as we ran past.

~ ~ ~

 Once back aboard the Priscilla, we returned to Australia but before we could land, 'Petra's infernal transmissions disrupted our ship's systems.
 "By all means move at a glacial pace. You know how much that thrills me." And he continued: "It's just baffling. Why is it so impossible to put together a decent run-through? You people have had hours and hours to prepare. It's just so confusing to me." 
 Unfortunately, we had no choice but to listen to his tirade as we crashed into Port Phillip Bay. Once we'd all dragged ourselves out of the Priscilla and had congregated on it's roof, we contemplated what to do next.
 "Quick" Tim urged. "Throw her in!"
 "What?!" Kylie was livid. "Rack off. I'm a pop star not a wha-"

* splash *

 "Why doesn't she sing?" Tim asked plaintively after having pushed the diminutive singer into the choppy sea.
 "I'm a doctor, not an expert in human biolo-" I began before realising that, in fact, I was supposed to be an expert in human biology. "Because she's drowning, you dolt!" I snapped at Tim as he struggled to keep her head under water.
 "Get 'er oot of thar!" said Eros in an almost convincing Scottish accent, then hauled her out of the cold waves.
 "Sing, godsdammit!" Tim clenched his fists in impotent rage. Eros had laid Kylie out on the hull and was looking expectantly at me. 
 "What?" I snapped again. 
 "Yurrrr th' doctorrr" he drawled, his accent not so good this time.
 "Ohforheavenssakes" I muttered rolling my eyes as I contemplated mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. "No" I declared as I straddled Kylie. "I haven't kissed a girl yet, and I'm sure as hell not going to start now." I began beating her chest with my right hand instead. 
 "Stop punching her in the boob!" MJ cried. 
 "Yeah, you do that in Star Trek VI to revive Chancellor Gorkon, remember?" Beast surprised everyone by backing up MJ.
 "What? Oh. Yes." Kylie stirred beneath me. "Are you all right, Miss Minogue?" 
 Glaring at me through narrowed eyes as she propped her self up on her elbows, Kylie answered "Just about. And get off me!" Once I'd disengaged from her, Kylie got to her feet and started rubbing her left boob. "Ooh, that really hurt, you quack!" 
 "Look, are you going to sing, or not?" Tim interjected. "CyberPetra will destroy the planet, if not." 
 "OK, OK. Here goes:"



 "Oh! You did it! Thank you" 'Petra gushed from orbit. "Now, just sing Celebration in honour of my birthday then we can call it quits."

The end?

Hssssssssssss

 Happy birthday CyberPete!

Cusp Trek III deleted scenes

The Enterprise hung before the Priscilla, small explosions pitting it's alabaster hull. Suddenly, the saucer section was consumed in a massive explosion, propelling debris everywhere. Some of it heading towards them. One piece in particular struck the rear axle, but no one noticed as it didn't cause any damage.

The debris was Commander Krude. And she was still alive!

Under the Priscilla, Krude reached out and grabbed the rear axle, her skin splitting apart like a giant chrysalis. Except that instead of a beautiful butterfly an horrific Alien Queen emerged!


She wormed her way up the waste pipe of the Priscilla and into the small lavatory cubicle recently vacated by Malteser. MJ didn't have to wait long before Uhura popped in...

"There'ssssss ssssssssomeone in here!" She called out grinning and drooling as the cubicle door opened on her.
"Holy crap!" Miss Scarlet cried as she skidded in the drool and careered head long into MJ's outstretched arms - All six of them!
"Thissss'll teach you to undermine the Infomaniac Housssssse of Beauty" and MJ paralysed poor Miss Scarlet with her tail stinger before relieving her of her make-up bag and stripping her of her uniform and wig. After bundling her up in thick resin secreted from her slavering maw, MJ stuck Miss Scarlet to the ceiling, squeezed into the Starfleet uniform, pulled on the wig and trowled on some slap.
"There" she said, checking out her reflection in the mirror. "I'm good to go!"
"Ha!" Miss Scarlet scoffed before passing out.

"People don't need bridges, they use hovercars."*

Blimey! I've just realised that I've already read more books this year so far than in all of 2008 (23 in total - my best reading year since taking up blogging). So, without further ado, may I present the three books I've read this month:


26. Star Trek - The Art of the Film, by Mark Cotta Vaz

This was a birthday present from Indescribable. Although my birthday was back in March, Indescribable only saw fit to give me this book at the end of August - Lazy, thoughtless wench. Still, it was a nice surprise as I'd completely forgotten that she hadn't given me anything!
This took barely any time to read as it is mostly pictures, which is a bit disappointing as the last Art of Star Trek had quite a lot of text to go with its images, giving explanations and history for them.

* From page 51.


27. The Time Traveller's Wife, by Audrey Niffenegger

This one's a re-read. I first read it back in 2006 and it became part of this book meme.

It's still a lovely read: Intriguing, thoughtful, emotional and revealing.


28. Star Trek: Strange New Worlds, edited by Dean Wesley Smith

This is an anthology of short stories "by the fans, for the fans!", the first in a series of ten. My favourite story amongst the twenty in this book is second prize winner: Of Cabbages and Kings, by Franklin Thatcher. The short story is about how the Enterprise NCC 1701-D deals with its sudden instant transport to another universe leaving all the crew behind.

I have to confess that I didn't read all the stories in this book as this is another re-read and I only wanted to read my favourite ones.

Cusp Trek III: The Search For Sanity

  Continued from Cusp Trek II: The Lust of IDV...

 "C'mon" Vicarious Tim wheedled from within me.

Not that type of within mores the pity, just think of him as an extra SubC. Look, I've even gone so far as to colour him in red to make it easier for us all.

 "I want to go to yoga."

 "Well, I don't" I retorted.
 "But you ought to go - You're very stiff."
 "No. You are. And I'm going to stay here with Monsieur Palm and his five strapping sons to sort that out."
 "Urgh! You're not. We're going to go to yoga. And that's final!"
 "Ooh, I love it when you're all commanding and masterful" I teased humourlessly as the part of Vicarious Tim within Broom manoeuvred our transportation to my grasp.
 Tim shuddered within me. Again, not that type of within, unfortunately. Before we could bicker any further, the doorbell rang. I was expecting The Coven at some point but didn't think they'd be around until the afternoon.
 "Oh, dear gods" I muttered. "What lousy timing." Then, in a louder voice, for the door sensors to pick up, "Enter."
 The front door swished open to reveal a figure in a hoody standing in the shadows. It raised it's hands and lifted the hood back.
 "Tim!" I gasped.


It's probably best to keep reading while listening to this - It does go on a bit.
 
 After inviting the Virtuous Tim in and plying him with coffee and Fondant Fancies, I asked him why he had sought me out after all these months.
 "I have come to extract Vicarious Tim so that he may take his rightful place with me again" he said through a mouthful of feather-light sponge and pink icing.
 "Oh, thank gods" I almost cried with relief. "He's driving me crazy with all his demands, and just look at these blisters on my fingers and palms from spending too much time with his long, thick shaft." Virtuous Tim nearly spat out his cake.
 "What?!" he choked.
 "You know" I said, confused and slightly alarmed by Virtuous Tim's extreme reaction. "I've been riding him a lot." The look on Virtuous Tim's face alternated between horror and violation.
 "You mean, you've been... Uh... You know... Umm..." he stuttered.
 "Oh, no. Not that! That fizzled out pretty quickly." I shuddered as I remembered all the arguments and clashes over dominance and detail. "No. Once demolecularised, there was a lot of him to go around, so what I couldn't channel into Broom, I took within me. He's very demanding: Yoga, gigs, shopping, Ikea, bike riding... He won't let me sit still! If I'd known just how high maintenance he is, I wouldn't've bothered taking him within me and Broom in the first place." Virtuous Tim was visibly relieved.
 "Well" he said, "It sounds like I arrived in the nick of time. We'll fly to Australia Vulcan where the reintegration ceremony will take place."
 "Austra- I mean: Vulcan?" I was aghast. "Not on Broom, we won't. Not if we want to get there in one piece!"
 "Don't worry" Virtuous Tim reassured me. "In the time it's taken you to post part three of this story, I've commandeered a starship to transport us: The Enterprise!"
 I rolled my eyes and muttered about a starship being overkill for a trip only half way around the planet. Luckily, Virtuous Tim was oblivious to my reaction as he continued to talk.
 "My crew are standing by ready to receive us. I'd be grateful if you'd give the word, IDV?"
 "The word is given" I sighed, humouring him, as I put down my coffee and stood up, grabbing Broom as I did so. I stood there for several seconds, perplexed as Virtuous Tim headed towards the door. "Umm... Aren't we going to beam up?" I asked.
 "Ah... No. She's parked outside" he explained somewhat defensively and left the building.

 ~

Outside Castle DeVice, Miss Scarlet, Eros, 'Petra and Beast loitered.
 "It's better than the first one, anyway" Miss Scarlet said.
 "Well, pretty much anything would be" Eros replied. "I told him glueing a couple of nacelles on to his MINI Clubfootman wouldn't cut it."
 "At least this one almost looks the part" Beast said. "And we can all fit inside it."
 "Where did you find it again, Beast?" Beast looked a bit shifty before he answered 'Petra.
 "Umm... Oh, it was just lying at the roadside somewhere in Alberta. Ahem."
 "Well, it looks fabulous. And Eros has done a fantastic job of fixing up the innards."
 "Thanks, 'Petra."
 "Look out!" Beast hissed. "Here they come!"

 ~

 "There she is" Virtuous Tim pointed. "My ship: The Enterprise!"
 I looked over to where Tim was pointing and saw a group of familiar looking people dressed in Starfleet uniforms suddenly come to attention beneath a large, rather amateur-looking model of the USS Enterprise.
 "And this is my crew" he said as we approached them. "You remember Scotty" Eros smiled politely in greeting and gave us a very un-Scottish 'Howdy'; "Uhura" Miss Scarlet smiled a little uncomfortably, then, when Tim wasn't looking, raised her phaser to her temple and faked blowing her head off; "Sulu and Chekov, don't you?" Beast and 'Petra just grimaced at each other and rolled their eyes.
 "Yes, of course I do" I replied a little testily, realising just what fantasy Virtuous Tim was playing out.
 "Now, now, Bones" he admonished. "Although, I suppose I can understand what with you having Spock, AKA Vicarious Tim, inside you."
 I sighed and smiled fakely, but Virtuous Tim didn't seem to notice. I guessed that he was going slightly crazy as only half a person, and was finding solace in a world created from his interests and career. Sighing again, I followed the others and boarded the ship, taking the only spare seat on the bridge at the science station.
 "Set course for Vulcan, best speed." Beast and 'Petra grimaced at each other again as they plotted a course for Australia. "Scan for vessels in pursuit."
 "Scanning: Indications are negative at this time" I, or rather Vicarious Tim said through me. Everyone turned to look at me, surprise plastered over their faces. "Did I get it right?" I asked.
 "You did great, Bones. Just great" Virtuous Tim replied.
 "Oh, no, wait!" I took another look at the sensor data, this time without Vicarious Tim's interference. "A Dra'Kling ship is decloaking!" I put the image of the pink ship up on the main viewscreen. "It's a Bus-class long range scout. Hull markings identify it as one QotD Priscilla."
 "Shields up" Virtuous Tim ordered. "Fire photon torpedo!"
 Beast scoured the board in front of him. "I can't find the 'fire' button" he wailed. "Where is it? Oh, don't worry: I've got it" he said, much to our relief, and rather belatedly pressed the big red 'fire' button that was right in front of his face.
 Unfortunately, he was too late. The Dra'Kling ship had already fired two rather disgusting looking torpedoes right at us!
 "Oh, no! Poutine torpedoes incoming!"
 "Reverse course! Evasive manoeuvres!" But it was too late. The poutine torpedoes splattered against our windshield and clogged up the plasma exhaust vents and torpedo tubes. We were immobilised!
 "We're being hailed." "On screen" Tim ordered. The viewscreen snapped into life displaying three familiar-looking women in elaborate costume.
 "Ah, Tim-"
 "Captain Kirk, actually" Tim said peevishly.
 "Whatever. Anyway, we meet at last" the central figure with the severe fringe/bangs greeted him. "I am Commander Krude" MJ said, "and these are my officers Malteser and Skoda Felicia" she indicated to Snooze and Dinah, respectively.
 "Why are you dressed as men?" Beast asked.
 "Why are you even here?" Krude/MJ snapped back. "Anyway, shut up, I'm talking to Ti- Captain Kirk" and she turned her attention to Tim again. "It seems we have you at a disadvantage so prepare to be boarded."
 "Give me a minute to inform my crew."
 "I give you two minutes for you and your gallant crew."
 "Shit! What are we going to do?" 'Petra said with a hint of panic once Miss Scarlet had switched the intercom off.
 "Don't worry. I have a foolhardy but also foolproof plan" Tim replied. "When they beam over here, we'll beam over there after setting the self destruct!" A round of gasps erupted from the crew. "What? You've seen Star Trek III haven't you? You knew this was going to happen. Besides, time's up - We have to get going." He turned to Eros, who was inexplicably wearing nothing but his blue underwear. His look now matched his southern accent - he was more Trip than Scotty. Somehow, Tim managed to overlook this and asked "Scotty, have you set the self destruct?"
 "Aye, Sir" Eros confirmed. "Ah've poured sugar in the fuel tank and stuck a potato up the exhaust. She's all set, Cap'n."
 "Good work, Mr Scott. Now, beam us over." Eros twiddled some knobs and the transporter beam took us.
 We materialised on board the Priscilla, surprising Malteser who'd been in the loo and so wasn't transported to the Enterprise with Krude, Skoda and the rest of the crew.

 ~

 Aboard the Enterprise, Krude was livid.
 "Where are they?" MJ raged.
 "Haven't you seen Star Trek III either?" Dinah answered with an exasperated sigh.
 "Tim, IDV and co beamed over to our ship when we beamed here. If you want to join the Coven, you'll have to have more than a passing knowledge of Star Trek, you know."
 "Why the Hell didn't you warn me before we beamed over?"
 "Durrr... Because it would've ruined the story, of course!"
 "But now we're trapped here" MJ looked at the temperature gauge, the needle of which was wobbling about in the red 'danger' zone, "and about to explode!"
 "I don't care. I'm out of here, anyway. I've had enough of blogging so this is my way out."
 "You can't just go and leave me here!"
 "Watch me" Dinah said. "Good luck. Byeeee!" And she disappeared.

 ~

 "What the-?" Snooze-as-Malteser started as Beast kicked open the cubicle door. She hastily dropped her book and pulled her trousers up as she stood up. "How embarrassing" she said as Tim looked her up and down. "I don't deserve to live."
 "Fine. I'll kill you later" Tim flippantly agreed before returning to the cabin and peering out the window.
 The Enterprise hung before the Priscilla, small explosions pitting it's alabaster hull. Suddenly, the saucer section was consumed in a massive explosion, propelling debris everywhere. Some of it heading towards them. One piece in particular struck the rear axle, but no one noticed as it didn't cause any damage.
 "My God, Bones" Tim said. "What have I done?"
 I rolled my eyes again, knowing what I had to say. "What you had to do. What you always do. Turn death into a fighting chance to live."
 "C'mon. Let's get out of here" Miss Scarlet said nudging Eros, Beast and 'Petra.
 "Which one's the damn anti-matter inducer?" Eros asked scanning the dashboard.
 "This?" 'Petra said pointing at a small black button. "No, this!"
 "This or nothing" Beast said prodding the green button 'Petra had pointed to last.
 The Priscilla surged forward. We were on our way to Australi- Shit, sorry - Vulcan.

 ~

 On 'Vulcan', we were greeted enthusiastically by Dora and her retinue of scantily clad bimbos.
 "G'day! You made it, then?"
 "Dora! Great to see you" Tim and I cried before remembering we were still supposed to be in the story.
 "Come on then" she beckoned. "They're waiting for us up top." And with that she and her bimbos escorted us up a massive red rock where the ceremony to re-fuse Tim's vicarious spirit with his virtuous body was to take place.
 In the circular open-air temple at the top were two blow up li-los, several large incense burners that looked suspiciously like barbecues (the smell thay gave off was definitely mouth watering) and a throne flanked by six muscular men wearing only swimming trunks. Sitting in the throne was another familiar face.
 "Miss Smuggersham!"
 "Well, it's T'Bird for the purposes of this story, actually" she said. "You know, what with Vulcan females generally having names that start with T apostrophe. I thought I'd haul out the old moniker. Great to see you! Now, you lot" and she waved at 'Petra, Beast, Eros and Miss Scarlet "make yourselves at home. There's some tinnies in that ice bucket over there and plenty of prawns on the barbie.
 "Who's the keeper of the vicarious spirit, then?" T'Bird asked getting down to business.
 "That'd be me" I raised my hand, the one that wasn't holding Broom. "Son of The Mother, son of The Father."
 "The danger to thyself is as grave as the danger to Tim. You must make the choice."
 "I choose the danger" I stated, then muttered "Hell of a time to ask..."
 "OK. Pop yourselves down over here on these li-los and I'll see what I can do." Tim and I laid down either side of T'Bird. "Well, take your tops off, then!" she commanded. "I need skin to skin contact for this to work."
 I removed my top, glad that the SubCs had bullied me into continuing with my morning swims and not letting myself go. Tim on the other hand looked horrified. T'Bird noticed his reticence at derobing.
 "Don't worry" she said to him, "I don't need you and IDV to be in direct contact" she didn't see my look of disappointment as she spoke to Tim, "I'll be the conduit."
 Tim breathed a sigh of relief then pulled his top off, luckily not hearing my and T'Bird's gasps of awe as his top rustled past his ears. T'Bird winked at me as we both ogled his six-pack and impressive chest. My hand tightened around Broom's thick shaft.
  
 "Right then" she said. "Let's do it!" And with that she closed her eyes and began the spell to remove Tim's vicarious spirit from me and Broom and instill it within his virtuous, totally hot, body.

 Hours later, after much ogling and feeling up by T'Bird, the ceremony was complete. As was Tim. I, however, felt somewhat empty and staggered a little as we made to join the others at the now cold barbecues. Tim reached out to steady me, a questioning look on his face.
 "Are you OK? Do you know who I am?"
 "Tim" I said. "Your name is Tim."

 "...and the Adventure continues in Cusp Trek IV: Le Voyeur Homo..." 


 Oh, and click here for deleted scenes.


 P.S. This is my 600th post!
 

Strop

OK, so we have decided to keep the Coven - Mainly because "fellow senior member" Tim had a diva strop (watch out 'Petra - You have competition) and threatened to leave because I'd inadvertantly forgotten to consult him! Obviously, I relented as I didn't want to be 'dancing on my own'.



Anyway, I have decided to unveil the new Coven lineup on the 5th anniversary of this blog which will be on 9th October. But before then there is another celebration of note (two, if we include 'Petra's birthday on the 29th of this month): The 600th post! In fact, this is post number 599 so I had better be off to think of something worth posting next time.