Monday, January 23, 2006

Henry and the Rhyme Lord - Part 13

My name is Henry the Adequate, and I am a superhero.

"Ugh..." The rhyme lord appears to be waking up. Judging by the amount of alcohol we consumed the day before, and the fact that he does not have a superhuman constitution, I expect he may not be in very good shape. His head appears from behind the sofa. Eyes struggling to focus he hunts about like some kind of predator searching for a scent. Well a predator with a throbbing headache who has just thrown up all over himself. "What the hell was that?"

"That was one or two drinks," I explain helpfully, "But I must leave now. I have important superheroing to do."

At this point I notice that his eyes have started working again, and that he appears suddenly more alert. I notice these things because of the way he is staring, a look of shock and horror on his features, and the way he is saying "Oh shit" over and over for some reason, and the way he appears to be reaching for some kind of weapon.

"Oh yeah," I admit honestly, because I am a superhero and a champion of all that is good and truthful, "Some guys came in and trashed your time machine."

"Some guys?"

"Well, me, really."

He shrieks like a wounded shriek monster and begins furiously firing some kind of ray gun thingy. Only my superhuman speed saves me from being all rayerized. I leap behind the sofa, landing in some kind of squishy slippery substance, and sliding right on out the other side. "Bugger." Then I am up again and leaping to avoid some more ray gun rays. I end up behind the rhyme powered time ship. The firing stops.

"What's that?"

I glance from cover, expecting some kind of trick. But he is indicating the computer I brought back from that really long hall place. "Just a computer I found, when I was doing stuff."

"Oh." Then there is some more firing, and dodging, and hiding. After a while it stops. "Battery's flat," he announces.

"I see." I sneak out cautiously, prepared for a trap, prepared to leap once more for safety, but he has thrown the weapon accross the room and slumped onto the sofa, which has several holes in it from his ray gun but is otherwise intact. "You wanna order pizza?"


Anonymous mu-tiger said...

Some squishy stuff, eh? EWWWWWWW! It's puke! Go bathe, henry. BTW, sygate sold out to *wretch*symantec*wretch. =(

1:39 pm  
Blogger carouselle10 said...

Henry always knows how to cheer me up. Thanks Henry.

3:45 pm  
Blogger Ben said...

Yes, puke indeed. Thanks for noticing.
Hadn't seen the sygate/symantec story, but don't seem to be able to care what those guys do any more. How does it affect me?

3:47 pm  
Blogger Ben said...

You're welcome.

3:48 pm  
Blogger Lorraine said...

booze, puke and pizza, men!

9:29 pm  
Anonymous mu-tiger said...

i would suppose it doesn't affect you. i just thought it was really, really sad.

10:15 pm  
Blogger Ben said...

I don't suppose that requires a response.

Well I guess it is sad, and I used to care about such stuff. Now I don't think I'd even give a toss if Microsoft bought Borland and killed Delphi. Those proprietery guys just don't seem important to me any more.

7:13 am  
Blogger Lorraine said...

none required :)

7:33 pm  
Anonymous mu-tiger said...

Good point, actually; i probably wouldn't care either if the dog hadn't eaten my serial modem adapter cord.

Hrm, maybe Henry has it within his power to to get slack to recognise a pci slotcard, since we all know winmodems are NOT modems.

Failing that, i will continue to rail against proprietary software companies--greedy bastards.

1:08 am  
Blogger Ben said...

1. Windmodems are not modems. Let me just state that now, for the record. I may even put that in a Wisdom of Henry.

2."maybe Henry has it within his power to to get slack to recognise a pci slotcard". Hmmm, Henry the Programmer. Now there's an idea.

3.Damn those greedy bastards. I wish I was them.

7:16 am  

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