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Pokerduck II: Wrath of Monkey

To: poker-night
From: electroblake
Subject: Pokerduck II:  Wrath of Monkey
Date: Thu, 27 Jul 2006 19:33:00 -0400

Realizing the need for a hero figure in the story we must struggle to
get through this evening, you assume the roll of the mighty
Pokerduck, hero to many, lover of some, feared by few.  Flying around
the galaxy in your top of the line space-ship you feel that you have
very little to worry about, aside from cosmic rays, black holes,
meddling aliens, pesky energy beings, dark mater, the interstellar
highway patrol, and incurring roaming charges on his cellular phone.
Actually, a Pokerduck has a great deal to worry about, zipping
through space at fantastic speeds like this, now that you think about
it.  Better set down somewhere for a drink.  That planet up ahead
ought to do.  You ask the computer nicely to set you down wherever
looks best, so long as the alcohol is top shelf and plentiful.  Then
you put your seat-belt on and close your eyes tightly.

The air is warm and arid.  Hardly any living thing in sight, a few
brush plants is all.  Not ideal conditions for a pokerduck at all.
You wonder what went wrong.  The little picture of the planet on the
computer’s map was all blue and white and green and usually that
means lovely weather with oceans and clouds and beautiful sunbathers
in skimpy bikini’s on the prudish worlds, or baring it all on the
more licentious planets.  You think about that for a while, but then
you catch yourself and remember your mission:  you must find alcohol,
mixed with ice, in a nice glass, and you must consume it and start

Back into the ship.  “Computer,” you say, “there is something wrong
with this planet!  I demand you take me someplace nicer.”

“BLARRRGH! Bluuuuuggugugugug SQEEEEEEEEEEE!” says the computer.

Damn.  This is why you hate computers.  You bang your fist on the
console a few times and the computer starts to cough violently.

“what the hell is wrong with you?!” you ask, in as polite and level
headed a manner as is appropriate in this situation.


“damnit!  I don’t have time for this bullshit!”  You start digging
around in the operating system trying to find the control panels.
Meanwhile the ships lights start flashing like a light switch rave
and slow muzak starts playing over the PA.  Confetti and balloons
drop from the ceiling and the fire alarm goes off.  The sprinklers go
off and the confetti starts to stick to everything.

You put your fist through the screen.  It hurts a lot because you
forgot there was ship hull behind it.  Now you really need a drink.
Thank god for the mini-bar.  You empty the contents of the small
fridge into your bag and head out.  Your cell phone rings but you
know you’re out of your plan’s included zone so you ignore it,
focusing instead on the task at hand.  When you’re far enough away
you point your space gun at the stupid worthless ship and fire.  It
blows up nicely, leaving a smoldering black crater.  You think you’d
like to watch the smoke rise up from the destruction so you empty
your bag out in front of you and make yourself a gin and tonic.  You
even had limes!  And you still had a nice glass in there from the
last time this sort of thing happened.  Well, this isn’t so bad now,
is it?

Just then one of those god damned energy beings shimmers into
existence next to you and starts with it’s usual tricks, turning your
feet into petunias and forcing you to fight clones of yourself with
archaic weapons that look like they were left overs from some
community theatre production.  This is why you hate energy beings.
You’re gin and tonic is gone.  You’re basically in hell.  In
desperation you try to make the energy being blow up using only your
mind.  To your surprise, it works pretty well.  You wish you’d tried
it earlier.  Then you try to make a rock blow up and that works
pretty well too.  Then you try to turn another rock into a delightful
gin and tonic.  It comes out flat and kind of warm.  Nobody’s perfect.

You spot what looks like another derelict ship on the horizon and you
walk towards it.  It’s got a monkey in it.  Then monkey is angry and
tries to eat you, but you make it’s head explode with your mind.  You
do it by getting down on your knees and yelling really loud
“MONKEY!”, so loud some camera and microphone that were in low orbit
around the planet manage to pick it up, even though you’re pretty
sure sound doesn’t travel in vacuum.  Take that, stupid monkey!
Their computer is more orderly than yours and has useful information
on the internal workings on the ship instead of several terabytes of
mediocre animated programs, televised fictions, and pornographic
video clips.  You decide to use this “information” to your advantage
and learn all about home spaceship repair.  Then you fix the
spaceship and fly off.  If you’re lucky, you’ll make it to Earth just
in time for

Poker Night
at Dangerhouse
first hand at nine

dangerhouse is XX XXXXXXXXX Rd. #X

no monkeys

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