Friday, August 25, 2006

As I gazed out the viewport at the vast empty space streching endlessly before us, I couldn't help but reflect on how truly annoying Monkeyboys are.

Mojo (the Monkeyboy, not the giant yellow alternate universe psycho with a butt for a stomach) had been smearing some kind of foul smelling brown gunk on the walls of the Danger Sled. I really didn't want to know what it was. I tried to tune him out and make telepathic contact with X-Men back on Earth. I wanted an update on how the battle against Gaia's army was going. Mojo's inane shrieking would not allow it.

Sitting in his control seat, Jon turned to me. "Can't you do something about that? You've got that putting people to sleep thing you do, right?"

I shook my head. "My mental powers only work on minds. These Monkeyboys appear to be mindless."

"Yeah, but they speak. They must have some kind of brains."

"In order for me to take command of another's brain, there must be some kind of logical cohesiveness to their thought pattern. His mind is like fusion jazz. It just makes no sense whatsoever."

"Well, at least we're almost at the coordintes the Queen gave us," Jon said. "We should be seeing the Leviathan in a couple of hours."


Blogger Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator said...

Guess I'll just have to do it the old fashioned way.

*Pulls out lead pipe*

9:11 AM  
Blogger Erifia Apoc said...

Fusion Jazz.

Sounds like some new genre of music everyone will hate at first, then it will hypnotize everyone into loving it.

9:19 AM  
Blogger A Army Of (Cl)One said...

so you saying a Monkey Boys brain is like annoying crap from the 1970's that need to be wiped off the face of the universe? Just making sure I clear here.

12:34 PM  
Blogger Jean-Luc Picard said...

Things have been moving along in my absence.

6:38 AM  

Post a Comment

<< Home

Free Counters