Mark Tom and Travis
22-03-2006, 23:14
"Where the hell's my copy of Jugs?" Mark demanded angrily.
"Erm, their headquarters were bombed last night, sir," replied Andy, his lacky. "There will not be any more Jugs for the time being."
"What?!" Mark fumed, rising from his chair. "How am I supposed to cement my rule over this hellhole if I can't maintain my pornographic empire?!"
"Erm, sir, you don't rule this nation, or any pornographic empire; you just think you do."
"I don't? Then how did I make you the secretary of transportation?"
"You didn't, sir. I just chauffeur you around."
"What is my job?"
"Mostly sitting around, drinking and reading copies of Jugs, sir."
"Well, then, who's in charge of this place?"
"No one. This is an anarchy, sir."
"Anarchy, eh? Should be pretty darned easy to take over, then."
"Um, sir? Mob-rule holds sway over all the cities. You cannot possibly rule this nation unless you can force all the various warring factions to swear allegiance to you."
"That would require a lot of work, won't it? I'd be better off lounging around here, pretending to rule."
"You already do that, sir."
"Good. Then I won't need to change anything. Now where's my copy of Jugs?"
Andy sighed. "Sir, I already told you. Jugs headquarters were destroyed last night. There are no Jugs."
"Well, who destroyed them?"
"I don't know, sir. We have no intelligence, or police, or investigating unit of any kind. This is an anarchy. Blowing stuff up isn't even a crime."
"Do we know anything about what happened?"
"Just that there was a roar of aircraft heard overhead before the explosion hit. Might have been an invading air force. But, meh. Who really gives a rip? With all the chaos and all the other explosions that occur all over our cities day and night, it's not like anyone noticed, anyway."
"Whose air force was it?"
"Didn't you hear what I said, sir? No one cares! It's not like any invaders can take control over all the warring mobs; the would-be occupiers might as well just sit around drinking and reading Jugs and pretending to rule."
"Hey, that sounds like a sweet gig!" Mark exclaimed as he took a swig from his Arrogant Bastard Ale. "How do I get that job?"
Andy regarded all the old copies of Jugs and empty Arrogant Bastard Ale bottles littering Mark's "office." "Erm, you already have that job, sir."
"Sweeeet." Mark took another swig.
"Ahem."
Andy turned to find a balding thirtysomething standing in the doorway, sporting a ruffled suit and a loosened Snoopy tie protruding from his unbuttoned shirt collar.
"Sir, Jack Riley from Omigodtheykilledkenny is here."
"Omigodwhozzitwhazzitwho?"
"Omigodtheykilledkenny, sir. The Federal Republic of. The ones who pledged those security forces to help referee the violence in our cities."
"'Referee' the violence? Why not quell it?"
"Erm, sir, the Kennyites are really big on the blowing up aspect of the military; not so big on the stabilization part."
"So, instead of bringing in peacekeepers to prevent violence, we're bringing in 'peacekeepers' to add to it?!"
"That sounds about right, sir. They shouldn't add much more damage than has already been done, and they'll probably take out some of the mobsters while they're here. Besides, their commandos are hella fun to watch."
"And what do we have to give them in exchange for these security forces?"
"A UN mission, sir. Someplace safely outside their borders, so they don't have to follow UN rules, still pretend to be a non-member, and continue their snittish protest against the UN, yet retain a vote in the General Assembly."
Mark gazed upon the man in the doorway with a fair amount of suspicion. "These Omgwtfbbqkeenyrdeadloolz people ... are they the ones who blew up the Jugs building?" he demanded.
"I don't know, sir, and frankly, I doubt it. Their president really likes his porn. And his beer."
"Sweet! This president of theirs sounds like a really nice guy; we should bring him over! What's his phone number?"
"Erm, we can do that later, sir. Right now, I think we should invite Mr. Riley in. He's been standing at the doorway for five minutes."
"Oh, fine, fine. Bring him in."
Andy motioned to the "diplomat," who proudly strode into the office, cordially shaking hands with the men.
"So nice of you to come, Ambassador Riley," Andy told him.
"Yes," Mark added dully. "I suppose you're here to formalize this 'agreement' we have with you peeps?"
"Actually, yes, I am," Riley said cockily. "But you mind if I ask what's with your flag (http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/mark_tom_and_travis.jpg)?"
"Oh, that," Mark giggled.
"It's the print on a pair of Mark's cousin's blink-182 boxers. He stole them one night while they were drinking and ran them up the flagpole. He's been too lazy to take them down, and now everyone assumes it's our flag."
"And your name?" Riley inquired. "I assume Mark is you, but who are Tom and Travis?"
"Drinking buddies," Mark burped.
"Imaginary drinking buddies," Andy corrected him. "They only show up after you've thrown back about 10 beers."
"Hey, shut up!" Mark snapped. "They're really crazy guys!" He turned to the ambassador. "Tom can fly, and Travis can breathe fire," he boasted.
"Riiiight," Riley said. He reached into his suit jacket and produced a trifolded multipage document. "Well, I'd just like to brief you gentlemen on the terms of our agreement. We supply Army and Marines to help restore order to your cities, and you allow me to set up a Kenny UN mission here in return. The mission, incidentally, will be on MTT territory, and technically, you guys will own it, but I'll be in charge of all UN business, while you guys reap the benefits of UN cultural imperialism."
"What was that, Mr. Riley?" Andy asked.
"Oh, erm, right. Since, technically, the mission will make you guys a UN member state, you will be required to uphold all UN mandates in your borders. But I'm sure the gnomes will tell you all about that when they arrive."
"The gnomes, sir?"
"Ohh, dastardly little creatures, UN enforcement officers; force you to change your laws every time the UN passes a bill."
"But Mr. Riley, we couldn't possibly --"
Mark interrupted his assistant. "Oh, that's cool; I'll have my attorney general take care of all of that."
Andy turned back to his boss. "Sir, your 'attorney general' is that convenience-store clerk who gives you free beer! We have no laws or law enforcement; we can't be expected to enforce UN resolutions!"
"Really, calm down, man," Mark whispered. "Calm down. I already got it taken care of."
"And besides; you're too late," Riley sniffed. "You already signed the deal!" He cackled maniacally.
"I haven't signed it yet," Mark returned.
Riley stifled and quickly examined the document he'd been brandishing at the men. "Oh, you haven't," he noted sheepishly. "Erm ... would you mind signing it?"
"No problem," Mark said as he motioned the ambassador to bring it to him.
"But sir --" Andy protested. Mark held up his hand to silence him, graciously accepting the papers and holding his pen to them.
A sultry voice interrupted the company. "Can we come in now? This hallway smells like piss." The voice's owner smiled evilly at the envoy. "Oh, hi Jack," she cooed.
"Oh, right. Come in, ladies." The vixens in tight clothes stepped in lightly. "You guys have already met, I see. Excellent. Jack, I'm sure these gals need no introduction: the able-bodied servicewomen of Cluichstani Private Entertainment Services Ltd.! You see, I brought them in to keep the riffraff in line -- and well, since you already are so well-acquainted with them, I'm sure you won't mind if I have a few of them serve as our liaisons to your UN mission?"
A satisfied smile crossed Mark's face as he noticed the arrogant glint in Riley's eyes turn to fear.
"Erm, their headquarters were bombed last night, sir," replied Andy, his lacky. "There will not be any more Jugs for the time being."
"What?!" Mark fumed, rising from his chair. "How am I supposed to cement my rule over this hellhole if I can't maintain my pornographic empire?!"
"Erm, sir, you don't rule this nation, or any pornographic empire; you just think you do."
"I don't? Then how did I make you the secretary of transportation?"
"You didn't, sir. I just chauffeur you around."
"What is my job?"
"Mostly sitting around, drinking and reading copies of Jugs, sir."
"Well, then, who's in charge of this place?"
"No one. This is an anarchy, sir."
"Anarchy, eh? Should be pretty darned easy to take over, then."
"Um, sir? Mob-rule holds sway over all the cities. You cannot possibly rule this nation unless you can force all the various warring factions to swear allegiance to you."
"That would require a lot of work, won't it? I'd be better off lounging around here, pretending to rule."
"You already do that, sir."
"Good. Then I won't need to change anything. Now where's my copy of Jugs?"
Andy sighed. "Sir, I already told you. Jugs headquarters were destroyed last night. There are no Jugs."
"Well, who destroyed them?"
"I don't know, sir. We have no intelligence, or police, or investigating unit of any kind. This is an anarchy. Blowing stuff up isn't even a crime."
"Do we know anything about what happened?"
"Just that there was a roar of aircraft heard overhead before the explosion hit. Might have been an invading air force. But, meh. Who really gives a rip? With all the chaos and all the other explosions that occur all over our cities day and night, it's not like anyone noticed, anyway."
"Whose air force was it?"
"Didn't you hear what I said, sir? No one cares! It's not like any invaders can take control over all the warring mobs; the would-be occupiers might as well just sit around drinking and reading Jugs and pretending to rule."
"Hey, that sounds like a sweet gig!" Mark exclaimed as he took a swig from his Arrogant Bastard Ale. "How do I get that job?"
Andy regarded all the old copies of Jugs and empty Arrogant Bastard Ale bottles littering Mark's "office." "Erm, you already have that job, sir."
"Sweeeet." Mark took another swig.
"Ahem."
Andy turned to find a balding thirtysomething standing in the doorway, sporting a ruffled suit and a loosened Snoopy tie protruding from his unbuttoned shirt collar.
"Sir, Jack Riley from Omigodtheykilledkenny is here."
"Omigodwhozzitwhazzitwho?"
"Omigodtheykilledkenny, sir. The Federal Republic of. The ones who pledged those security forces to help referee the violence in our cities."
"'Referee' the violence? Why not quell it?"
"Erm, sir, the Kennyites are really big on the blowing up aspect of the military; not so big on the stabilization part."
"So, instead of bringing in peacekeepers to prevent violence, we're bringing in 'peacekeepers' to add to it?!"
"That sounds about right, sir. They shouldn't add much more damage than has already been done, and they'll probably take out some of the mobsters while they're here. Besides, their commandos are hella fun to watch."
"And what do we have to give them in exchange for these security forces?"
"A UN mission, sir. Someplace safely outside their borders, so they don't have to follow UN rules, still pretend to be a non-member, and continue their snittish protest against the UN, yet retain a vote in the General Assembly."
Mark gazed upon the man in the doorway with a fair amount of suspicion. "These Omgwtfbbqkeenyrdeadloolz people ... are they the ones who blew up the Jugs building?" he demanded.
"I don't know, sir, and frankly, I doubt it. Their president really likes his porn. And his beer."
"Sweet! This president of theirs sounds like a really nice guy; we should bring him over! What's his phone number?"
"Erm, we can do that later, sir. Right now, I think we should invite Mr. Riley in. He's been standing at the doorway for five minutes."
"Oh, fine, fine. Bring him in."
Andy motioned to the "diplomat," who proudly strode into the office, cordially shaking hands with the men.
"So nice of you to come, Ambassador Riley," Andy told him.
"Yes," Mark added dully. "I suppose you're here to formalize this 'agreement' we have with you peeps?"
"Actually, yes, I am," Riley said cockily. "But you mind if I ask what's with your flag (http://www.nationstates.net/images/flags/uploads/mark_tom_and_travis.jpg)?"
"Oh, that," Mark giggled.
"It's the print on a pair of Mark's cousin's blink-182 boxers. He stole them one night while they were drinking and ran them up the flagpole. He's been too lazy to take them down, and now everyone assumes it's our flag."
"And your name?" Riley inquired. "I assume Mark is you, but who are Tom and Travis?"
"Drinking buddies," Mark burped.
"Imaginary drinking buddies," Andy corrected him. "They only show up after you've thrown back about 10 beers."
"Hey, shut up!" Mark snapped. "They're really crazy guys!" He turned to the ambassador. "Tom can fly, and Travis can breathe fire," he boasted.
"Riiiight," Riley said. He reached into his suit jacket and produced a trifolded multipage document. "Well, I'd just like to brief you gentlemen on the terms of our agreement. We supply Army and Marines to help restore order to your cities, and you allow me to set up a Kenny UN mission here in return. The mission, incidentally, will be on MTT territory, and technically, you guys will own it, but I'll be in charge of all UN business, while you guys reap the benefits of UN cultural imperialism."
"What was that, Mr. Riley?" Andy asked.
"Oh, erm, right. Since, technically, the mission will make you guys a UN member state, you will be required to uphold all UN mandates in your borders. But I'm sure the gnomes will tell you all about that when they arrive."
"The gnomes, sir?"
"Ohh, dastardly little creatures, UN enforcement officers; force you to change your laws every time the UN passes a bill."
"But Mr. Riley, we couldn't possibly --"
Mark interrupted his assistant. "Oh, that's cool; I'll have my attorney general take care of all of that."
Andy turned back to his boss. "Sir, your 'attorney general' is that convenience-store clerk who gives you free beer! We have no laws or law enforcement; we can't be expected to enforce UN resolutions!"
"Really, calm down, man," Mark whispered. "Calm down. I already got it taken care of."
"And besides; you're too late," Riley sniffed. "You already signed the deal!" He cackled maniacally.
"I haven't signed it yet," Mark returned.
Riley stifled and quickly examined the document he'd been brandishing at the men. "Oh, you haven't," he noted sheepishly. "Erm ... would you mind signing it?"
"No problem," Mark said as he motioned the ambassador to bring it to him.
"But sir --" Andy protested. Mark held up his hand to silence him, graciously accepting the papers and holding his pen to them.
A sultry voice interrupted the company. "Can we come in now? This hallway smells like piss." The voice's owner smiled evilly at the envoy. "Oh, hi Jack," she cooed.
"Oh, right. Come in, ladies." The vixens in tight clothes stepped in lightly. "You guys have already met, I see. Excellent. Jack, I'm sure these gals need no introduction: the able-bodied servicewomen of Cluichstani Private Entertainment Services Ltd.! You see, I brought them in to keep the riffraff in line -- and well, since you already are so well-acquainted with them, I'm sure you won't mind if I have a few of them serve as our liaisons to your UN mission?"
A satisfied smile crossed Mark's face as he noticed the arrogant glint in Riley's eyes turn to fear.