“Come on, please open up Harbinger, we need your help,” came the strangely familiar voice from the far side of her closed door. “Anyway, aren’t you supposed to be on this censored language kick in this story?”
“Sorry, forgot. Listen, you woke me up, and I’m never my best when I’ve been rudely awakened from my beauty sleep,” said Harbi, opening the door to Michael J. Hunt and a tall, angular official military person.
The TAOMP and Harbi assessed each other fromhead to toe and back up to eye-to-eye. “Terribly sorry for inconveniencing you ma’am. We were looking for the “Beautiful” Harbinger.”
Even having just woken up, Harbi’s reflexes didn’t let her down.
Before he could react, the TAOMP was on his ass, back against the oppposite wall, mashed face spraying forth blood, all over his previously immaculate officers uniform.
“You were saying?” asked Harbi, calmly spoken words dripping poison, daring another verbal faux pas.
“It’th an honour to make your aquaintenth, your Imperial Magnifithenth,” came the reply through broken teeth.
“And don’t you forget it. Now, Mike, what’s this all about?” she asked, turning her attention back to the Insurance man.
“First of all, and I say this with the greatest respect, can you do me a favour and not refer to me as Mike?” asked Mike graciously.
“Why would I want to do that…Mike?” asked Harbi, knowing fine well that she would now call him nothing else.
Sensing that he wasn’t going to win this one, he changed the subject. “Captain Dallas,” he said, indicating the injured soldier pulling himself to his feet, “and I are recruiting for a task force to go out and rescue a village full of people up in the Mountains of El Veefortoosix. We received a distress call yesterday, and we haven’t been able to get contact with them since.”
“Hails of derisive laughter, Mike,” snorted Harbi derisively. She stood on the threshold of her flat, leaning relaxedly against the door frame, arms folded under her magnificent breasts, totally in control of the situation. “Tell me – why should I help you, minion of an evil emporium who are trying to get me to pay them one shit-load of money, and a soldier who, well I’m sorry, but I can’t remember the last time that I saw a man so painfully in need of a bl…”
“Please, if you’ll give us a moment I’ll explain.,” interjected Mike. “First of all, you’re a hero, and that’s what you do. Secondly, the LIC are willing to write off your debt, including the past seven weeks of interest, if we are successful...”
“Like they were ever going to see one red cent of it anyway…” said Harbi. If she had worn glasses, right now she would be looking over the top rim at the pair of them.
“…and thirdly, the distress call mentioned black clothed army personnel with an interesting tattoo.” Mike stopped for the inevitable question.
“Oh, go on, what’s the tattoo,” said Harbi, yawning through her hand with obvious lack of interest.
“A red dragon.”
“What, like the picture by Henry Blakes?” asked Harbi.
“See, I told you she’d ask that, didn’t I Captain? That’s 50 quid you’re owe me. Nah, that’s a different film.”
“Huh, whazzzzuppppp?” asked Mike as he answered his video –phone at 4 am.
“Don’t start, it’s not a beer commercial,” chided Harbi at the other end.
“True.”
“Tell me, you berk*, we’re going there to kick their butts, aren’t we? None of this namby-pamby lefty getting in touch with themselves crap. Yeah?” asked Harbi.
“Absolutely – you have my word.”
“Right then – I’m in.” With which Harbi put down the receiver. She turned to the cat on her bed. “And you, you stoopid little shit – you ain’t comin’ with me.”
“yeah, like I’d want to anyway,” Stoopid Cat beamed into her head by way of their optic nerves. And turned back to licking his own genitals.
“ I wish I could do that,” murmered Harbi under her breath.
“Give me a handful of crunchies and I’ll let you,” purred SC back at her.
Harbi went back to bed and had the best sleep that she could remember. And dreamed of doing just exactly what SC was doing.
* FYI - according to the Collins Compact English Dictionary - berk or burk n Brit slang a stupid person; fool. [Berkshire Hunt, rhyming slang for c***] (asterisks added by Yours Truly)
posted
" “What, like the picture by Henry Blakes?” asked Harbi."
What picture is this then Ken?
-------------------- "Tempus Fugitive" the final part of the Adventures of Dream Boy series, set in the Three-Boot Universe. Read it only in the Bits o' Legionnaire Business Forum.
From: here, more often than not | Registered: Sep 2003
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posted
Wolf whistles followed Harbi as she walked into the aircraft hanger where Marvins spaceship waited to take them to their destination.
There was what can only be described as a squad of useless looking individuals waiting at the far end of the hangar, and seeing no-one else around that was where she headed.
She was met half way by Captain Dallas who had noticed her approach and gone to meet her. He gave her a similar appraisal as at their first meeting, only this time his eyes never went further than her magnificent lycra hugged breasts. And it was to them that he started to speak.
“Welcome, Magnificent Harbinger, it’s good to have you onboard,” he slimed.
“You’re going to have a bloody long wait, you realise,” said Harbi after a pause of a few seconds.
“Excuse me?”
“If you’re expecting to get some kind of a verbal reply from these,” replied Harbi, grabbing her already monumental breasts and thrusting them together towards Captain Dallas.
The embarrassment seemed to rise from his boots, quickly turning him a beetroot colour. The peels of laughter ringing aroung the accoustically harsh environment only served to heighten his discomfort. The Useless Squad were falling off their seats / hanging on to each other.
“Yeah, if you want any respect, you’ll look me in the eye when you talk to me,” said Harbi in all seriousness, making sure that she spoke loud enough for everyone else to hear. She reached out with one finger and closed Dallas’ wide open mouth, also lifting his eye-level. “That’s more like it.” So saying she nudged her way past the still red captain, and walked towards the assembled squad, who understandably were greeting her like she was the second coming. (Nah, too obvious!)
Catwalk models could learn a thing or two.
For some strange reason Captain Dallas waited until she had reached her destination before turning round and following her.
quote:Originally posted by Numf El: Wolf whistles followed Harbi
no change there then
Ken, your writing makes me laugh like a drain.
Sometimes.
-------------------- "Tempus Fugitive" the final part of the Adventures of Dream Boy series, set in the Three-Boot Universe. Read it only in the Bits o' Legionnaire Business Forum.
From: here, more often than not | Registered: Sep 2003
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posted
“Right you ‘orrible lot! Pay attention!” roared Captain Dallas in an attempt at restoring order. Mike had joined Dallas and Harbi in front of the Useless Squad who were being surveyed as if they were shit on his shoe. There was still a lot of sniggering going on behind hands.
Eventually order restored itself. But it was more out of boredom than obedience.
“First up troops I’d like to introduce you to the people up front. Most of you have met me, I’m Captain Dallas – I am in command of this command.”
And there was much sniggering, and comments of the “…and you think so…” type.
“I will stand for no more of this insubordination!” said Dallas, getting a tad angry.
“Well, sit yer arse down then,” came a voice from the rear.
“Secure that shit sonnie!” said Dallas, even more angrily.
“I’m Numf,” said Numf. “He’s..” he continued, cocking his thumb at his brother, “…Sonnie.”
More sniggers echoed throughout the holding area.
Dallas could be seen to get increasingly flustered, and was severely close to losing the plot completely.
Harbi took over. “Okay, heads up….No seriously, raise your eye level a bit, gents. ….Right, that’s a bit more like it. We’ve got a crack SGG unit holed up in a village half-way up a mountain. The villagers lost radio contact 3 days ago and haven’t been heard from since. We also have a metamorph missing…….”
“A what?” asked Numf. “ A metawho? Listen, all that I want to know is, is this gonna be a stand-up fight, or some kinda bug hunt?”
Clapping, back patting and general agreement came from the rest of the squad.
“Listen Numfy, you great twat! It was you that brought them here in the first place. It’s Kaant we’re going after, and I’m betting from the tattoos that her new squad have got that it’s the best of the best that we’re up against,” explained Harbi.
posted
They awoke in a pile. Arrayed along the new plush sofa that Marvin had had installed in his spaceship. Arms around each other, drool dripping silently from open mouths. Various grunts, snores and other noises emanated from the throng of bodies.
There were minor scuffles as in-appropriately draped hands were slapped out of the way.
Thankfully Marvin had been listening to Sigue Sigue Sputnik on his MP5 player, and hadn’t been subjected to Captain Dallas’ lecture on tactics during the first Gulf War – The Bravery of Staying Out Of Range. Considering the recent revelationary findings as to the reasons behind the war Harbi had found it to be a bit tasteless, as well as being so boring that everyone had nodded off.
Marvin had flown them to the village of El Asticpants and set down on the outskirts.
“Chuffin’ hell I’m hungry,” yawned Harbi as she performed her just-woken-up stretch. Sinews popped, muscles bulged and breasts thrust. Oh, and eyes bulged. Half of the squad stared in awe, whilst the other half looked away, knowing that it would just get them into trouble.
“Yeah,” said Numf, who’d seen it all before and was more interested in food, “ I hope they’ve packed rowies!”
“Gawd – it’s been positively weeks since I last had a rowie!” joined in Sonnie. “Let’s go and investigate.”
After a rummage through the galley, Sonnie came up from a cupboard clutching handfuls of clear plastic bags, through which could clearly be seen the rowies that had been craved. “Yay! Numfie – I’ve found them! Well done whoever packed these.”
“Chuck us one over min,” shouted Numf. “Nah, these are nae use – they’re Asda ones. They’re both kinds?”
“Both kinds?” asked Harbi, who was also an expert on rowies. However, she wasn’t quite fully awake.
“Yeah,” said Sonnie. “You know, cheap AND….”
“…nasty,” said Harbi and Numf in unison.
“They’ll have to do though, ‘cos there’s sod all else,” said Sonnie.
They all took up seats at the galley table and consumed rowies. Rowies with butter, rowies with jam and rowies with cheese. And some with all three. There wasn’t any peanut butter, or that would have been added to the mix as well.
“So, you two, how come we got lumbered with a couple of losers like you in charge? What happened to the big hitters like Cobalt Lad – he’d be perfect for a gig like this, head of security as he is. Or Stu, Lashy-poos, Lardy? And why don’t we have Greybirdboy here to help us track the enemy? Even bloody Invisible Boy for a bit of stealth?” she asked.
“Well, you see Harbinger,” said Mike, “since you went into your self-induced brain-dead period, a few things have happened. One of which is the disappearance of those heroes that you have just mentioned. The whole of Legionworld has been searching for them to no avail. In fact if you had mentioned Arachne in your list I would have thought the coincidence too great, and suspected you in their disappearance. “Since their disappearance, and your hiding away inside yourself, the crime spree in Legionopolis has reached epic proportions, which has meant that the other ‘A’ list heroes – Spellbinder, Nightcrawler, Lightning Lad, Drake etc. – have had to stay and look after the city. So yes, you have been left with the dregs….no offence…” said Mike with just a smear of sarcasm, turning to look at the assembled personnel.
“Don’t worry,” growled Sonnie, glaring daggers back at him, “ PLENTY taken.”
“….but we’re all you’ve got, so get used to it,” finished Mike turning back to Harbi. There was a coldness and arrogance in his demeanour that Harbi hadn’t noticed before.
“Come on,” said Numf, in an attempt to break the tension in the room, “ show us your new knife trick Marvin! Hey everyone, Marv sez he’s got a new trick to show us.”
Marvin waddled over to the table from where he had been tinkering with the spaceship controls. On the way through the galley he detoured to pick up a perilously sharp kitchen knife. He plucked a hair and tested the sharpness by slicing it in half longways, as all cartoon characters are taught to do at cartoon acting college. Marvin nodded at Sonnie conspiratorily as he passed, and Sonnie held Numf from behind, hand out flat on the table. “No, you bastards! What are you doing?” screeched Numf like a big jessy. Marvin came from the side and placed his own left hand over Numfs right, fingers spread over fingers, one thumb sticking out of either side.
Marvin managed to balance the knife on the palm of his hand briefly and then snatch it out of the air with the same hand. He turned his attention to the table.
“No Marv, buddy, don’t do it,” pleaded Numf.
“Quit whining Numf,” said Marvin, “this will need a lot of concentration.”
With that Marvin lifted the knife quickly above his head, in slow-motion. Also in slow motion, Numfs head followed the upward sweep of the knife, eyes opening wider in alarm as he realised what Marvin intended.
When the downward stroke started, Numfs slo-mo mouth started opening – N….O…..O….OOOO…OOOOOOOOO..
Time clicked back to normal speed.
CHOP!
Digits scattered themselves across the table, blood spurted everywhere.
“Not funny Marv, not funny,” said Numf in a high panicked voice as he fainted.
“Luckily we cartoons can grow appendages at will,” said Marvin, willing another set of fingers to grow in place of his severed ones, which he picked up and put in the nearest bin.
I’ll have to remember that, thought Harbi to herself.
Numf regained consciousness screaming, only to find all of his fingers still connected, without even a scratch on them. The confusion written across his face was priceless.
And seeing how the continuity of this story works with the continuity of my "Journies" story makes you Onevision even more fun to read. Thanks!
And I love the continued use of Marvin, one the great tag team creations that we all left a bit of an effect on. He seems like he was destined to be written by you alongside Sonnie, Harbi and Capt. Dallas.
From: If you don't want my peaches, honey... | Registered: Sep 2003
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