The trouble with a bulletin board like The Moon Online is that it was populated by some ferocious characters that fought to estabalish dominance over one another. There was no room for mindless textspeak and fashion and recipes when on a regular basis it was a bitter feud for every poster to guard their pride whilst bashing keys furiously as insults and sardonic replies were whipped backwards and forwards in the style of mortally wounding ping-pong. Nobody who is anybody, likes a loser and nobody liked this subtle form of ‘losing’ What the casual viewer may not have been aware of is that sometimes the pressure could become too much for some posters. Some could feud for days, months while casualties fell, arms thrashing down the rungs of the ladder and settled permanently in The Dead threads. The line drawn and crossed had often become dangerous for ballsy posters who were unaware of the repercussions. It was during the Fall of 2004 that the first TMO cock-fight began. Nobody really remembers what the original posts were about that caused the anger that would shatter the fabric of this otherwise harmless board. Some claim it was over something simple as a botched Secret Santa parcel that contained an exploding cigar. Others claim that it was a late night Stealth Chunt post that broke the camels’ back. Either way, all remember the blood feud that would rage for the longest time. (Or possibly for about two posts when enwod is informed that it's ‘been done before you bludclart’)
The first of these no holds barred combat events were held in an abandoned Wiltshire milk processing plant. The barn had been converted to host a podium and a large circular arena. Bales of hay made up a tiered seating arrangement. The straw was fresh and had not yet had the chance to be soiled with the blood of countless fatalities. I myself, only barely remember as I cast my eyes down at my scarred hands. When I cry myself to sleep at nights, the tears well in the empty socket that use to contain my right eye. It was only recently that I received a parcel in the mail and I had to admit that I had forgotten what it was like to be excited about opening a present because I had long since cut my ties with any surviving members. As my frail fingers tore at the packaging, I merely found a tape with ‘play me’ written on it in black pen. It took a while to find my antique laser driven tape decoding machine but after blowing off the dust and attaching a modern power adapter to it, the tape started with a crackle and burst into some exciting intro music, with horns, trumpets and other instruments I had previously connected with battles, power and glory. This is what the tape contained;
Good evening folks, if you’ve tuned into this frequency and you are in the Southwest tonight. You’re in for a real treat let me tell you. I’m not on my own tonight. I’m your host Benjamin Battle and I’m joined with Snorts Mackenzie. Snorts, I’m feeling pretty excited about this. What about you?
Snorts; Well let me tell you Bennyboy, we’ve got a real hot line-up to keep out the winter chill tonight. The challenger tonight is the one and only Black Mask. Now there’s not a lot that we know about about him..
BB; [laughing] We know his first name is Barry
Snorts; Ha ha! Yes that’s right benny, we do know that, but tonight he is donning his fully customised leather gimp mask to further keep his identity a secret. The last thing that this guy wants is to be unmasked before our Defender can deliver the death blow mate.
BB; And who is going to be the defending champion tonight then?
Snorts; Well, interestingly enough a family man as well [pauses] Daniel G.
BB; That’s an amazing line-up and let me guess, both wives and children are present?
Snorts; That’s right, you may well have heard of Mrs Mask and The Masketeers? They are all signed up and ready to fight alongside their Pops to really show the audience here tonight or tuning in, who’s top dog.
BB; What about Dan G? I take it his wife and kids will be backing up the man so he stands a stronger chance?
Snorts; They certainly are, not to mention his own private war-schnauzer…..War-Bastard.
BB; Amazing! How many children has Dan got?
Snorts; I can’t remember Bennyboy, he has a few. How many is a Throng?
BB; I don’t know mate but without further ado lets get on with the show and if you call me Bennyboy once more, I might have go a few rounds with you!
[Both laugh]
BB: Okay, the bell has been rung and immediately the Masketeers are into the fray. Arms windmilling and they are sending people flying. They appear to have gauss powered boxing gloves that they are using on the Dang families many hordes of kids. But Dang is in like Flynn with War-Bastard and is fending off the Masketeers like he does this every day.
Snort; He does do this every day mate he’s a full-time Dad and he no doubt has to keep the troops in line at home.
BB; Quite, but in not paying attention, you’ve failed to point out that War-Bastard has bitten through the piping on those gauss-gloves mate and literally Big Mask has been exploded into about a million pieces! The other Masketeer is not happy about this and fires a gauss canister at War-Bastard. OH! You don’t want to see this at home folks, he’s fired his gauss-glove up War-Bastards backside. But now he can’t get it out! The weight of the otherwise tiny hound is preventing him from moving. What a frustrating end to the otherwise well prepared Mask family.
Snorts; It looks as if Dang is about to deliver the death blow but he has looked up to find, horror of horrors, that Black Mask is still eating the entrails from about 45 corpses he has already disposed of. How does he have so many?
BB; Well, I think he hired them to get the upper hand but [chuckle] it hasn’t helped him out as Black Mask is using a large rotating blade to just cut through the opponents. Little Mask has had a lucky break and can call time out now that Dangs attention is fixed.
Snorts; The action is hotting up here and you can barely tell that it is winter in this humble barn mate. However, there is steam coming from the mouths of the two wives as the wrestle and grapple to the floor. What a sight for the spectators. Now in case you’ve just tuned in, you’ll have missed that One Masketeer has exploded the other is incapacitated by a dogs anus and all of dangs horde have been taken out.
BB; B…but isn’t one of Dangs kids only a babsy? Surely we…. wouldn’t of…?
Snorts; Don’t be daft Bennyboy, if you look up high in the rooftops, you’ll see that the littlest Dang was armed with an infra red rifle in which to pick off contestants.
BB; So the little tyke will be rooting for mum then?
Snorts; Oh, well just looking over, it appears that both mums have been gunned down. I don’t make the rules Bennyboy. It’s a shame because the rules of the game are that any female contestants fighting will have to be hosed down with mud. It’s a tradition.
BB; Well they got hosed down anyway.
Snorts; Ho ho …holy himmel! Dang and Black Mask are facing off for the final showdown and Dang doesn’t look happy. Mask is cool and collected but his blade is so caked with gore that it’s failed to work one last time. It’s spun it’s last spin. Dang is in with hands gripped tight on the Masks face. The mask! Masks mask is coming off! He’s…..he’s not an alien and Dang looks mortified with dissapointment! Oh my god but while Dangs not looking, Mask has slipped him into an arm lock. Look! Masks leather chaps are sliding away to reveal……a Se7en prop. It’s Lusts lethal lapworm. Oh god. Ben! No!
BB; My god! Sweet Fuckle! He put it in! Oh jeez, no-one could recover from that. It looks like Black Mask is the winner! I can see Dangs eyes glazing over from that. Well it turns out it was Dangs turn to be Thunderfucked.
Snort; I think you mean Thunderstruck?
BB; What-EVS!
As I switched off the tape that was playing the loud roars of bloodthirsty screams, I wondered. I wondered if anyone else could still recall tales from the TMO Arena.
Apologies for quality. Superbly busy.
[ 22.12.2004, 12:42: Message edited by: New Way Of Decay ]
Posted by Black Mask (Member # 185) on :
Christmas has come early!
Posted by saltrock (Member # 622) on :
Black Mask. Undisputed champion of the arena. Was there anyone either brave or stupid enough to take him on? He had cast his shadow of evil over the board and became known simply as the Dark One. It was as if a chilled hand had clasped around the very heart of the boards, killing all happiness and frivolity. Not a lol or a roffle was to be seen. Not a smiley or a winkywanky graced a post. A gloom and stillness that could not be lifted. People talked of "the time that went before" but quietly, so that they would not be heard and chastised by the Dark One. His Thunderstick was greatly feared by all.
There was however, one woman who thought that she knew a way to lift this cold and stultifying fear from the boards. With love and light and laughter she knew that she could spread joy back into the land of TMO and banish the Dark One forever. She was called Hippychick, and she believed in goodness. A self-sufficient small holder in the depths of Wales, she led a healthy, simple life. Spartan maybe it's true, but she was at one with nature and her peace and calm radiated from within. Her one luxury she had allowed herself in this meagre existence was access to the internet. Here she could catch up on what was happening in the outside world. What fashions were in the cities and how much people could now drink without becoming comatose. This had now been ruined and she knew that she was the only person that could restore order.
For many months she plotted and planned, thought of every twist that the Dark One could throw at her in the fight. She trained hard. Her animals on the smallholding saw her working and endeavoured to help as much as possible. The cows in particular were very patient as she strapped one to each end of a tree trunk for weight training each morning.
Eventually she was ready. The word went out onto the boards. The challenge was issued.
"Dark One! Hear this! I challenge you to come to the Wiltshire barn and meet with me. Bring all your weapons - if you are to stand a chance of coming close to me, you'll need every single one of them sonner! Who are ya? Who are ya? Who are ya?"
The boards quaked as they waited for his reply. It came, booming, making ripples on the screens. "If you think you're hard enough, come and 'ave a go!"
Hippy drew in her breath, plumber stylee. She knew that the time had come. She bade her animals goodbye and mounted her trusty horse, Cyril, and started the long journey to Wiltshire.
In his lair, the Dark One paced tetchily. He knew that nobody would dare challenge him without knowing that they had something special up their sleeve. What could the hippywoman possibly have that she thought she could take him down? What magic or trickery could she have hidden? He was afraid. Afraid that he would have to relinquish his hold on the boards and people would be lolling and rofling once more. He was a troubled man, but the challenge had to be met. Since loosing his family in the fight against Dang, he knew that he would have to undertake this challenge on his own. Decisively, he turned and strode into his weapons chamber and started to pack. Sword: check. Mallet: check. Large stick thingy with nails sticking out: check. He also decided that he needed to keep his strength up if he was to stand a chance so he packed a 6 pack of cheesestrings, kitkats, a tin of spaghetti hoops [ring pull – no opener needed!] and a salami end that had been in the fridge for ages and was getting a bit past it. He extinguished the fire, took one last look around and left the lair, knowing that it was possibly for the last time.
The barn was in darkness as he approached. The only noise was the whisper of the breeze playing in the branches of the trees at the side of the track. He stopped, unsure of his best path forward from here. After a short while he continued towards the barn, cautious, striving to catch any hint of another’s presence. He pushed the door open, slowly, slowly, peering into the cavernous black interior. Suddenly – SNAP! The lights flicked on and he was momentarily blinded. A massive roar assaulted his ears and he realised that the entire population of the boards were in their seats already awaiting his arrival. Emboldened by their numbers, they jeered and taunted him until he felt a red mist settling over his eyes and the anger started to simmer in his belly. “You want to fight me for the boards, he thought, you damn well fight me. I’m handing nothing over easy”.
As suddenly as the noise had started, it stopped. Every one was looking to the far end of the barn. Hippy stood there. A vision of calm and serenity. Her white robe flowing around her in the gentle breeze that came from the many holes and cracks in the barns wooden walls. She looked as if nothing in the world could destroy her composure. No fight could disturb the peace of her world. But her eyes! Her eyes were like burning coals as they looked at the Dark One. All the contempt in the world, too strong to be hidden. He returned her gaze and flinched at whatever it was he saw in there.
From the side of the arena, Darryn came forward. As one of the elders of the boards, the assembled masses had elected him to start the battle.
“I know I speak for us all when I say these words. Let goodness prevail and darkness be lifted from the boards forever. Bring it on!” And with that he stepped aside.
The crowd looked on eagerly as Hippy and the Dark One circled each other warily. From his bag of black hessian, the Dark One had taken his sword. He lunged at Hippy, but the months of agility training with the goats in her flock had paid off and she lithely avoided his thrusts, making him appear clumsy. Again and again he stabbed and slashed and again and again she skipped out of his way. From the sleeve of her gown she took a garland of daisies and secreted them behind her back. “Daisy daisy, with love and beauty, stifle his sword and do your duty” and on his next lunge forward, she threw the daisies to encircle the shaft of his sword. With this, the sword crumbled to dust in the Dark Ones hand. He looked incredulously at the powder on his hand which was all that remained of the rock hard steel. Then disbelief turned to rage. Turning swiftly, he threw himself at Hippy, knocking her to the ground. She fell heavily, her head hitting on the bleached wooden floor, a long splinter finding it’s way into her shoulder through her gown. “Ow! That smarts” she wailed as she rolled with him, clawing and scratching, her robes glowing white against the dark and dirty cloth of his cape. Over and over they rolled. Ever conscious of the fate that befell Dang, Hippy tried to ensure that she always had hold of both of his wrists to prevent him freeing the Thunderstick. If only she could get to the other item that was hidden in the sleeve of her gown.
She managed to get a slight edge over him, and risked letting go of his wrists to grasp the short, greasy hair, lifted his head and smashed it as hard as she could on the floor, hoping to at least momentarily stun him. He was strong though and easily dislodged her, sending her into the air to land with a thump on the floor. She lay there for a moment, winded. He rose up, walked across and kicked her viciously in the ribs. She gasped for air as she lay squirming on the floor. The crowd were deadly silent. He kicked again, his face twisted into a sneer of derision as he looked at her. “Thought that you could take me on did you? A little girl like you? All peace and love and flowers? You forget, woman, I am a man, a fighting machine. No mere girl could possibly overcome the force of my testosterone!”
He looked at his hessian bag, weighing up his best options. ”Nao!” He thought, “Fuck it. Let’s straight for the Thunderstick”. Hippy looked up, just as the Dark One was flicking his cape over his shoulders, reaching for the buckle of his belt. With a mammoth effort she pulled herself up into a sitting position. The crowd hardly dared to look but didn’t dare look away. The belt was undone, the zip sliding down tooth by tooth. The Simpsons boxer shorts were unbuttoned and the Thunderstick was revealed. Hippy’s eyes widened in fear, and then hardened as her hand found what it was looking for in her sleeve. She drew forth her hand and with all her might threw herself towards the Dark One. Her hand found it’s mark and her aim was true. “Stick that on your testosterone, sonny”. The Femidom engulfed the Thunderstick. As the Dark One realised what had happened he watched in horror and panic and the Thunderstick started steaming, blisters growing and popping all over it’s shaft, the skin seeming to boil and pulsate of it’s own accord. The colour changing and shifting until it was black and charred. It grew smaller and smaller, emitting a hissing as it deflated. Finally, it stopped. The silence was absolute as all around the arena stared at the Dark One. He hadn’t moved a muscle. Stood staring, staring at the remains of his weapon, the ultimate weapon. A single tear trickled down his check and splashed onto the stump protruding from his body where it evaporated instantly. At that point, both Hippy and the assembled crowd knew that she had won.
From that day forth, the Dark One returned to his lair, never to be seen again. Rumour has it that the occasional posts that appear under the name of Sylvia are in fact him, trying to find a way back into the normal world. Since the hormone injections and the successful breast implants, he has secured a job in a cake shop it would seem.
As for Hippy, she returned to her animals, to carry on her life of waking with the dawn and rejoicing in the turn of the seasons. The people of the boards were grateful for her intervention and clubbed together and provided her with broadband as a thank you. Of course, it’s ntl, so it never actually worked, but the thought was there.
Posted by New Way Of Decay (Member # 106) on :
Christmas has just prematurely ejaculated in my face. It feels divine. More please!
Posted by dang65 (Member # 102) on :
[floaty, shimmering head appears, with somewhat startled expression] Bless you Saltrock and Hippy. Now at last I can rest in peace. Mind you, it don't half sting still. Hope they've got a bit of cream on the Other Side. [floaty, shimmering head fades away, wincing a bit]
Posted by funkypurplepants (Member # 746) on :
you guys are fucking top, many a lol, sorry this may come a little late to appreciate but i only have an hour for my lunch break, and i read as slowly and in-accurately as i type. Thanks an a V happy crimbly
Posted by Neurotic Cat (Member # 756) on :
The quality of writing on here never fails to astound me and makes me feel like I have cotton wool for brains. Good stuff! x
![[Big Grin]](biggrin.gif)