NICHOLAS THOMSON'S
HOME
DAY
OF
THE
GERIATRICS
(SEPTEMBER 2000)
Okay, here we go. It is now about six months later after our intrepid heroes rather bizarre and terror ridden shopping escapade. As they sit wearing their beaver caps, Captain Incapable and Earwax Boy take a moderately earned rest.
We join them as they get ready to watch the Texas Cow Massacre 4: The Next Generation starring that woman who's married to rubber-face. No! Not Richard Nixon, you know, that other one, the funny one.
Anyhoo, our two intrepid plebs were sat on their asses watching this crap film as they had nothing else to do, nothing unusual there then. Then, all of a sudden, a steaming brown envelope flopped through the mail slot and splatted onto the floor.
As the Captain got up off his butt and wondered over to the front door, Earwax asked him a question, without the sarcasm, which was rather strange for him.
"Captain, why do they call it s-mail?"
"Because it's slow and brown and stinks!" said the Captain as he returned to the sofa, holding the smelly piece of mail with his fingertips and a peg over his nose.
As the Captain sat down, he opened the letter and all of a sudden, yes! A piece of paper came out of it! Then, as Earwax rummaged through his glorious ear canal, the Captain began to read out the message.
"Dear Incapable and the other one. You are to be shipped out of the hell hole in which you live to be put down a hole," read the Captain.
"A bit brief wouldn't you say Captain?" said Earwax.
"Quiet you! There's more. Actually, it's a rather big hole, one of only a few left in the zombie ridden world out there on planet earth. You will be flown, then dropped into a big fishing net, which will be positioned in the middle of the army base in Horrida."
The Captain continued to read on.
"Hey, it says here that there are others down that hole. Some army guys and doctor guys. The army guys consist of Joe Potato, a fat guy, who despite his age is rather bald, and a bunch of background shooters with rather mangy beards. Then, the group of doctors consists of a drunk, really emaciated bad Mr Bean lookalike called Bill, Lori Cardtable, Dr Dracula, and a wussy looking young guy who used to be a teenage vampire, oh and a tough Jamaican stereotype called John," continued the Captain.
"Well this sounds like a party in a can doesn't it!" said Earwax.
Then, in glorious 70's slow motion, our two intrepid heroes leapt and bound their way to their super car, which was actually a pink bike with streamers flowing from the handle bars. And, with all the might of a college student on a Monday morning, the Captain peddled that crappy little bike all the way to the local bus station at Ass's End.
Our two intrepid heroes then caught this bus to Pitsburger, geriatric zombie capital of the world.
Finally, the bus reached its destination, Horrida USA, and, on its arrival, ran over a bearded beaver, but that's just pointless information. So anyway, they jumped off the bus and landed in a pile of crap, right in the middle of a crowd of blood-lusting geriatrics. The crowd just stood and stared at our two heroes, walking cane in one hand, out of date bus pass in the other, and they began to advance on the Captain and Earwax.
"Oh bugger, I think we're kind of in the crap now," said the Captain.
"Well duh!" shouted Earwax.
Then, bam! Something hit Incapable like a pole striking a person, infact, it was two, two metal poles and as the impending doom of the geriatrics got ever nearer, Earwax Boy remembered a movie when they polvolted over stuff.
"Polvolt the movie! That was it!" shouted Earwax as he grabbed one of the poles from Incapable.
Earwax took a couple of paces back, and then took a run, planted the pole in the ground and lifted himself over the fence, landing safely on the other side in a big fishing net, and he looked puzzled. Then, as Incapable finally got his butt over the fence, they remembered they were supposed to be airlifted in, but they forgot, and had to go the hard way, oh well.
Now, our two intrepid heroes were standing in the middle of a fenced off area, in the middle of which was a giant lift thingy, on which stood Joe Potato and Lori Cardtable, right next to their small fields of, personnel crops, yeah right.
Incapable and Earwax proceeded over to the elevator and then, Potato pushed the button on the box thing attached to the other thing, rather vague I know, but when there's some dubious smoke emanating from the surrounding crop fields, who cares. What they now descended into was a big hole. Yep, a big bugger of a hole, and right musty too, stunk like a beaver's arse on a Sunday right before bath day. Finally, the elevator stopped, leaving them standing on a platform confronted with, nothing, not a bloody thing, some great welcoming they thought, right rood sods these lot!
They now stood in a small parking lot of golf buggies, all white and sitting in rows. As they all began to pile on the buggies, Potato's main man, you know, the large one with beard and bald head, was playing through and nearly ran over the Captain's foot, but instead, who crushed a disgruntled post beaver who was doing his daily round.
"Right! That is the last god damned time I get run over in the line of duty! I've had enough, I'm going postal as of tomorrow!" shouted the angry beaver, not relation to the cartoon by the way, no copyright infringement there I don't think, phew!
They traveled along the long dark tunnels until they finally came to the end, where they were met by the doctor.
"Good evening," said Dracula in a rather Hitchcockian manner.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, shut up and go dissect somink!" shouted Joe P.
"This is Dr Dracula," said Cardtable.
"Come this way Incapable and Earwax, I've been expecting you," continued the doctor.
The team wondered through the battered white door and staggered off down the corridor.
"You guys go on, I've gotta got to get an, aspirin, again," said Lori.
"Yeah, whatever. Hopped up, glue sniffing druggie type, aspirin my arse!" murmured Joe.
So the group, minus one, staggered off to the mess hall, while the minus, staggered off in another direction.
The day had now grown old and the army guys were brawling and fighting as usual in a drunken heap on the floor. Cardtable had sedated her bearded boyfriend because he couldn't speak up and she thought it would teach him a lesson, but all she got was a quick fart. Another reason was due to the amount of spaghetti letters that kept getting in his damned beard!
And as this feat of something continued to unfold, the drunk, bad Bean lookalike took Earwax on a tour of the tunnel while Incapable went in pursuit of Cardtable, thinking that his luck was on the cards! Instead, he tripped over another bloody beaver! And used some dental floss to cut up some cheese for no apparent reason.
"Why does this beaver keep coming into the plot?"said the writer.
"Well," replied the writer.
"I just like beavers."
"Ah," replied the writer to himself in a split personality, Jim Carrey sortta thing.
"I have no idea where this crap's going, so just forget it I suppose."
So anyway, the bad Bean lookalike, or Bill as he's known thought he saw Baby G (that's an Eddie Izzard thing there), but it was actually a water fountain, he farted with frustration and walked over to the door opposite him to chat it up.
Dawn had now come and Incapable and Earwax were taking a jog around a ten pence piece as that's all the energy they had while Dracula dug up a body.
"What do you think he's doing Captain?" asked Earwax as he continued to wonder the cavities of his ear-hole.
"I think, he might possibly. Maybe he's. Yes! He's digging up the dead!" replied the Captain.
"Oh, my, god! I would have never guessed that," said Earwax.
"Come my loyal sidekick, come rub my feet to ease something that I have forgotten."
And as they walked off, Earwax attempted to reach for Incapable's gun, death by fart ray is better that a minute with the Captain's feet, especially after a jog.
"Earwax shivered as he followed the Captain back down the hole.
Dr Dracula kept on digging. The army guys who were camping out in the tents didn't take any notice as they were too busy tending to their crop, hmm, sounds dodgy, oh well, who cares, you're probably only reading this cos you read the others, so you think to yourself, sod it.
Anyway, another day had passed. Dracula had managed to prove that water boils at boiling point, a Nobel Prize winning idea I'm sure. Cardtable, the Jamaican stereotype, Bill and our two intrepid tossers set out in the chopper, and as they flew about aimlessly, they managed to talk without shouting, rather strange in a chopper with a really loud engine don't you think?
They landed somewhere with very blue skies, so it's obviously not England then and they all leapt out, except for the Jamaican guy who would rather stay in the chopper and fiddle with all the knobs and stuff, oo err missus!
They cautiously wondered out into the concrete jungle and yelled pointlessly into the dead air.
"Hello! Is anyone there? Hello!" they shouted.
"Ah screw it, everybody's dead, lets go," said the Captain.
"No wait, I can see something moving in the distance," said Cardtable.
And they waited and waited until they could make out a staggering figure, yes, it was a geriatric, bet you didn't see that one coming, did ya!
Slowly, the figure became more and more clear, it was a horrid site, a shambling MP! It looked like Mow Molem on acid or something and it shuffled about with 120 year-old excitement, ie, the tapping of the cane penetrated the atmosphere. Then, another geriatric came into view, oh god, another geriatric MP, and this time it was Maggie Thatcher! Then another one, and another, and soon, our heroes were surrounded by a crowd of British MP's! The crowd of geriatrics stood about and shambled around as they muttered incomprehensible words, speaking of new fangled education systems and absolutely ridiculous ideas like the dome!
Then, just as they thought it could not get any worse, more figures came into view. First came a man geriatric, then a woman, then a bunch of kid geriatrics, rather a strange occurrence I know, but for the purpose of the plot it is needed.
"Oh my god! It can't be. Please god let it not be!"
Yes! Indeed it was. The shambling figures, dressed in Halloween witch costumes were none other than, Britain's own, Blair family! That's right, it was a Blair Witch Project in the making!
"Oh crap, what are we gonna do know I wonder?" said Incapable.
"Use your gun Incapable!" shouted Cardtable.
"I can't do that! I haven't finished paying it off yet!"
The group groaned as Incapable's incompetence grew even larger.
"I know! Let's peg it!"
"Good idea!" shouted Bill, but for some reason they stood there a while to see what these weird lookin' folks would do.
As the dramatic effect grew even more immense, as I'm sure it's just tearing at your sanity right now, the geriatric foosters wobbled about, tapping their canes and mumbling about 'their day' and so forth.
The, another extreme sight of unpleasantness, now, Prince Philip stepped up and went about insulting the group which they surrounded.
"You know what your problem is, you're a bunch of drunk, self obsessed, hopped up, bearded, emaciated, incapable, big eared buggers from outer space!"
And yet, the group was undeterred by any of this tripe and continued to stand for a while.
"What's the reading up to know Captain?" asked Earwax.
Incapable then checked out his tension meter and saw that the tension was up to seemingly unbearable.
"Right, that's enough of that guys, let's peg it!" shouted the Captain.
And so they did, they turned sharp like and made a run for the chopper, and as they ran, Cardtable's bearded boyfriend appeared from nowhere in some weird thing, then suddenly, his guts fell out onto the floor, leaving the running group just a little confused, but in this sort of story, any old junk can happen.
Then, Incapable's mobile suddenly rang. He answered it as he continued to run.
"Yello. Uh huh, yep, okay, right, gotcha, fine then, okay, yep, bye then," said the Captain down the phone.
"Who was it?" asked Cardtable.
"That was that army guy, you know, the Potato guy. Anyway, he said that whilst we've been away, he's become a major asshole, and well, all the school children from Primary education all the way up to High school have mobiles, the craze has taken the world, although, that seems a little weird as the entire world's covered with these zombies isn't it, oh well, in the next story it will be all sorted out, who cares anyway right?" replied Incapable.
"Did he say anything else?"
"Oh yeah, he did. Apparently while we were gone, the geriatric zombie people invaded the complex, ate up all the people inside and ripped Joe to pieces just as the call ended. Oh yeah, and, that zombie we never heard about, you know, Bugs, Bunny, anyway, he said that he had a blast with Dracula who had been feeding him on refrigerated guts and had been playing him Beethoven, and yeah, that wuss type vampire guy is dead in all, and Dracula, he's dead in all, more bullets than a Schwarzenegger victim. And as for the other army guys, they're dead as well, and this just in, I was surprised I could spell that in all, long enough name ent it?" finished the Captain.
"So, what you're saying is that, we're screwed here, and there too." Said Bill as he took yet another swig out of his flask.
"Yep," said Incapable optimistically.
So here we are, our heroes are running from a bunch of mumblers of the MP sort who you could walk past in treacle and survive and the Queen Mum on her fifth hip replacement, the Prince guy shouting more bigoted insults, and the Queen herself stamping her face on anything and everything that the Brits use, typical hey, yeah, that's what it's like to live in England, I'm telling ya! Anyway, the hoard, who all seem to be wearing kit from the 70's and 80's stagger after our heroes as they run for the chopper, not much of this really makes any sense, but who cares, I see dead people!
"Don't worry everybody, these stories always end up happy like, the writer always finishes them so that we don't die, right?"said Incapable.
"Yeah, you should be so lucky," said the writer. "I'm bored, I'm going down the pub!"
And as the writer stumbled off, he left the story magically writing itself.
"Great! Now we're gonna have to sort it out ourselves now!" shouted Earwax.
So they continued with their excellent 'peg it large' idea and continued to run for the chopper. But when they got there, all they found was a note, and no chopper.
It read, "Got selfish all a sudden, buggered off to the pub, meeting the writer there to discuss my career opportunities, bye, hope you do not bad."
"That slimey little bugger!" said Cardtable. "Never lifts a finger until his bacon's in the pan!"
"Don't worry woman! I gotta plan!" said Incapable.
And as the crowd of geriatrics approached them, the Captain pulled out some curry powder, Dave Lister strength, and swallowed them whole. Suddenly, his gut started to rumble and gurgle like that of a trucker after a hefty meal of cow carcass and grease. Then, he aimed his ass at the advancing hoard of British MP types and geared himself up, and, if you hate fart jokes, either bugger off or skip to the next chapter. So anyway, he aimed his butt at the geriatrics and let rip whilst he also decided to get his brain in gear and use his damn gun! The combination of curry powder fart and worm food special on Incapable's gun sent the geriatrics flying as worms and fart stink ate away at their wobbly old forms. Ta da! The geriatrics were killed leaving just a bunch of canes and bus passes and hairnets and a whole bunch of stuff that foosters carry about with them.
So, here we are non-fart fans and fans alike, the geriatrics are dead, leaving the world as safe, rancid place, the stink being like the toilets in a boy's High school rest room.
And so ends yet another Incapable story, (there being more that you Internet types have never set your eyes on) and our heroes staggered off into the sunset, crashed into the set and decided to hitch a lift the rest of the way home.
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