Archive for the ‘Ken Brady’ Category
In Ur Tubez
Friday, February 20th, 2009
The would-be invaders of Earth fell victim to gross miscalculation. Vast technological development for a full scale attack nullified by last minute language research.
Bad intelligence. Nothing more.
The fleet’s pilot ship punched through the atmosphere and zeroed in on Silicon Valley. They found empty parking spaces outside the Googleplex, and set down across two of them.
The ramp descended and Admiral Lulz, flanked by a dozen armed elite soldiers, stepped out onto the tarmac, next to an extremely large Honda Fit. Another miscalculation: Lulz had expected Earth vehicles to be smaller.
Humans, gargantuan in size, streamed out of Google, rushed to the ship. In moments, Twitter was abuzz with blurry iPhone photos of the craft and its diminutive crew.
“Look,” said one woman. “They’re so cute!”
Lulz couldn’t understand the words. “WTF?” he said.
“ZOMG! Big ppl iz big!” Commander 2ch said.
“Shud tlk 2 thm,” Lulz said.
“And they make cute little squeaking noises,” the woman said.
The soldiers set up a holoscreen so the humans could view their words.
“Oh hai,” typed Lulz. “I cn haz talk wif ur leedr?”
The people read the text, then began to giggle. Lulz realized he was being taunted.
There was a foolproof way to get them to give in. He cracked his knuckles then typed, “All your base are belong to us!” He grinned maniacally. The soldiers leveled their blasters at the crowd of people.
Another woman leaned down and hugged two of the soldiers. Stunned, they dropped their weapons and squirmed. “Aren’t you just precious,” she said.
2ch was furious. “Hw cn thy do tht? R troops r l33t!” he said.
“Attack!” Lulz said.
They fired their weapons, resulting in clicks and one embarrassing pop and fizzle. The soldiers stared in silence at the lack of death and carnage.
One Google guy leaned down and picked up a blaster. “Doesn’t work?” he said. “Need better QA, guys.” He turned to the woman who was now tickling the two small soldiers.
“What a wasted trip,” he said. “Maybe they should have just texted us.”
He turned around and walked back toward the building. The others followed.
“4 teh Lulz!” 2ch said, and rushed the retreating humans.
Google guy turned around and pointed the blaster at 2ch. “LOL Wut?” he said, and 2ch screeched and retreated in fear. The man, laughing, headed back to work.
Lulz facepalmed, then returned, dejected, to the ship. His soldiers, useless without functioning weapons, followed.
The ship rose above the Bay Area and rejoined the fleet. For several days they monitored the intarweb, trying to decipher societies more complex than anticipated.
Reports of the incident in Mountain View flooded in. Many were scared. Some were fascinated by the prospect of new technology and otherworldly life. Some religious fanatics claimed the beginning and/or end of the world.
Mostly, people just thought the cute little aliens were funny as hell.
People uploaded remixed videos and Flash animations to YouTube and NicoNico Douga, Weezer planned to include the footage in their latest music video, and a Korean schoolboy figured out how to make a functional alien blaster in his parents’ basement from the pics and specs Google guy uploaded.
Humiliated, Lulz pulled up the universal browser, located his destination, and clicked the “I’m feeling lucky” button to take them home.
Hollywood Goddess
Wednesday, February 4th, 2009
When she told him it was a long-term commitment, he assumed it was like any relationship, a simple “I love you” once a day, flowers on important occasions, spooning in the afterglow of sex. He didn’t like to be tied down, had many lovers, many flings, always something on the side, often on the side of that. Man about town, frequenting the brothels and the nightclubs of Hollywood. But when your lover is immortal, she doesn’t play by the same rules. A wannabe starlet off the bus from Grand Rapids she was not.
He said yes because he liked a challenge. She was a fucking goddess.
The sex was awesome, but the relationship made him needy. He didn’t expect to be jealous, didn’t expect to pine when she didn’t answer her cell.
“I want to hang out,” Aphrodite said, a noisy party in the background. “I’m just busy.”
“You said that last week,” he said.
“Sorry, sweetie. Gotta mingle and schmooze. Call ya. Kiss.”
She hung up and he pulled to the side of the road. He pounded the steering wheel. He hadn’t counted on the role reversal, being one of many lovers, being cast aside. He drove to his favorite bar and tried to pick up chicks, but his heart wasn’t in it.
When she blew him off at a Bel-Air party the next week like he was some regular schmuck, he lost it. He interviewed a dozen hitmen before deciding to off her himself.
He wound up Laurel Canyon and parked his Bentley outside her Mt. Olympus split level.
In her bedroom, amid moans and giggles, he wasn’t surprised to see her naked, cestus on the floor, body entangled with two well-endowed men who modeled for romance novel covers. Only Aphrodite noticed him walk in.
“Hey sweetie,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“I think I should ask you the same.”
“I think it’s obvious. You could join us.”
“I don’t think so. Not my scene.”
“Careful,” Fabio 1 said. “She’ll cut your pecker off.”
“Oh hush,” said Fabio 2. “That was someone else in her family, wasn’t it?”
She didn’t seem scared when he slid the submachine gun from his jacket and leveled it at her, just a flash of anger and a moment of realization. He held the trigger until the mag was empty.
This immortal, just like the men in her bed, was not immune to gunfire. He knew she would return, in another form, at another time, and it would happen all over again. Right now, the feeling of taking her out in a spray of bullets and blood was spectacular. He felt free.
He left the house, set on hitting up all the spots on Sunset and fucking every girl he could find.
Ares, the god of war, didn’t like to be tied down.