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Author Topic: The Weirdo and the Writer Make a Story  (Read 2377 times)
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Spacedal11

Space Pope
****
« Reply #40 on: 10-03-2005 19:32 »
« Last Edit on: 10-03-2005 19:32 »

Sorry, you updated on a school day. I'm not done reading the update because I saw the bottom part. And yes, if you think that you can write the next section than by all means. I'll resend it to you in a short while. I'm liking the update so far. And I don't expect to be unhappy when I"m finished. Email will be coming later.

EDIT: Read it, loved it, want more of it. This has gotten interesting Gorky. And as I said I'll let you write the next part as you wish. And I'll see if I can find that email I sent you. If not I'll try to remember what I wrote. Hehe, that wouldn't be good.
Gorky

Space Pope
****
« Reply #41 on: 10-04-2005 08:49 »
« Last Edit on: 10-04-2005 08:49 »

Glad you enjoyed it, Spacedal. And, yeah, I guess I'll write this next part. If you can't remember that part you sent me a while back (again, I'm really sorry about that), then I can just try to rewrite it (I sort of remember the gist of it).

Before I start writing, though, I've gotta ask you something (which I shall put in spoiler territory, on the off-chance that anyone is still reading):


EDIT: Just checked my e-mail. I like your set-up for the Leela thing better than mine. I'll definitely work that in. As for the Fry scene, I liked your idea from the get-go, but, if I can, I'll try to polish it up or whatever. Hope it doesn't take me too long to get this next update out...
Spacedal11

Space Pope
****
« Reply #42 on: 10-04-2005 20:41 »

So in short, did that email answer your question for you? I'm asuming it did. Go ahead and polish the scene all you want. And it usually averages for about a week or less for an update, that's not bad at all. 
Gorky

Space Pope
****
« Reply #43 on: 10-06-2005 12:07 »

Yup, definitely answered my question. In fact, I'm working on the update as we...type. I should have it finished in a week or two, depending on how much free time I have.
Spacedal11

Space Pope
****
« Reply #44 on: 10-06-2005 22:31 »

Take yer time. I've got other stories and such to write. And my buddy is coming to visit me this weekend so I'll be busy with her. If you have any questions or suggestions to run by me, you know what to do...

...Reply here. Got that? Good.
Gorky

Space Pope
****
« Reply #45 on: 11-01-2005 16:42 »
« Last Edit on: 11-23-2005 00:00 »

[Insert clever way to say "Dudes, I'm bumping this thread after nearly a month" here]

Okay, so...um..."a week or two" is the new "three weeks or four". That's what my special Dictionary for Slackers (5th edition) says.

Seriously, though, my laziness, coupled with my obligations (which make me feel all important), is what kept this update from getting here sooner. I apologize for that.

But, on the bright side (or, the bad side, depending on how you look at it) I come with about 11 pages of material. Hopefully, it's better than I think it is (which is to say that it won't cause you to go blind before you finish reading it).

And here we go...

------------------------------

Things had been pretty quiet at Planet Express since the little “incident”. Seeing as how they had become the most hated delivery company in the universe (next to Fed-Ex, that is), the PE crew decided to lay low for a while, until all the buzz died down.

In fact, Fry and Bender hadn’t even left the couch since returning from the press conference. This might not have had anything to do with the fact that they couldn’t show their faces in public, but they could tell people that it did.

The others were leading very productive existences, as well. Hermes had been in his office for days, trying to come up with some way to create the illusion that Planet Express wasn’t really all that evil. The Professor had been in his bathroom for days; he felt a bowel movement coming on, and, at his age, this was a very important event. And Amy was occupying herself by staring at her lovely loveliness in the mirror.

As for Leela, she was busy racking her brain for a solution to the whole Benadrylian problem. She couldn’t help but feel responsible for the ordeal. Sure, she hadn’t sneezed all over a world leader, but Zapp had. And Leela had been the one to enlist Zapp’s help in the first place. She blamed a lack of potassium in her diet for that blunder. That was one of the perks of living on 30th century Earth: None of your mistakes were ever actually your fault.

Still, Leela was cursed with the capacity to tell right from wrong. Even though she hadn’t directly caused all of this war…stuff, she knew that she should at least have the decency to feel bad about it. But Leela hated feeling bad, and the only way to relieve herself of her self-imposed guilt was to come up with a way to prevent Earth from being blown up by a legion of obsessive compulsive aliens.

And that’s what she was attempting as she paced around the employee lounge. Normally, this would have intruded upon Fry and Bender’s TV-watching, what with Leela’s frame sporadically blocking their view of the television set. But, the two slackers were currently in a vegetative state brought on by eating nothing but sour cream-flavored Pringles for 72 hours straight. Meaning, they had no idea what the hell was going on—Leela could have been prancing around the room in nothing but a pink spandex leotard and a cowboy hat, and they would have been none the wiser.

Leela silently thanked the junk food industry for momentarily incapacitating Fry and Bender. This way, she had complete control over the TV. By leaving it on one of the news channels as she strolled through the lounge, Leela was kept privy to any developments in the Benadrylian conflict. This helped her in the formulation of her plan.

The facts as far as Leela understood them were pretty distressing. She knew that there had been an assassination attempt on Zapp Brannigan’s life. It seemed that the Benadrylians had anonymously sent the DOOP Captain a “peace offering”: a large pink disc, resembling candy. Seeing as how Zapp had no self-control, let alone a brain to make good use of it, he had followed the logical procedure that one enacts when they receive a mysterious present: he ate it.

But, as anyone with half a brain could have told him, the present was not really candy. As later investigation proved, it was actually a Pill-Bomb. The capsule was set to explode upon reaching Zapp’s stomach.

Thankfully for the dimwit, he forgot the cardinal rule of eating things: one must thoroughly chew said thing before swallowing. Seeing as how Zapp didn’t follow that rule, the pill got caught in his throat before it could finish its voyage to his stomach. In a valiant display of heroism, Lieutenant Kif Kroker saved his choking captain by retracting the pill. All of the interplanetary news channels had covered Kif’s heroic actions. In fact, he would have won CNN’s prestigious Slow-News-Day Award, had that little old lady not successfully crossed the street without the aid of a Boy Scout at that very same moment.

Anyway, since Zapp’s near-death, the Earthican government had debated on how to proceed. They knew that the Benadrylians had meant the attempt at Zapp’s life as a warning of things to come, but they also wondered if the life of some guy who didn’t know the difference between a Sudafed and a Sweet Tart was worth going to war for.

So, as the Powers That Be discussed what plan of action to take, Leela continued formulating her own strategy. Her train of thought was interrupted, however, by a breaking news bulletin.

Linda’s face appeared on the TV screen. “Following several days of sanity hearings regarding military leader Zapp Brannigan,” she began, “The courts have come to a decision regarding the captain. Now, to tell the story in his own words, Zapp Brannigan.”     

Zapp’s very seductive being replaced Linda’s visage on the screen. “Stupid governmenty…people,” he started. “They should have known from the start that I’m perfectly un-insane. At least they came to their senses eventually and realized that the only thing I’m guilty of being is incredibly sexy.”

“And the justice system fails again,” Leela muttered to herself.

“Speaking of myself, if there are any ladies out there who are looking for a good time, they can call my lovely assistant, Kif, for an appointment with…myself.” Zapp continued. “Say, Linda, are you doing anything tonight? ‘Cause I could rock your world, Sweet-cheeks. And a few other things, for that matter.”

The camera cut back to a bubbly Linda. “Why, Captain Brannigan, I’m flattered. What do you say we—“

The newscaster was interrupted by her co-anchor, Morbo. “All of this human emotion is making Morbo sick!” he stated as he nonchalantly shoved Linda off of her very professional-looking swivelly chair.

Linda giggled. “Linda go boom!” she said. Which was code for, “Linda sustain serious head injury!”

“Silence!” Morbo demanded as he sat down in Linda’s twirly chair. “In less nauseating news, the Earthican Military has issued a mandatory draft of all able-bodied citizens.” He paused for a moment, before adding, “You all disgust me so very much! When my race conquers your worthless planet, all of your deaths shall be slow and painful, and will probably involve a corkscrew in some manner!”

Leela sighed as she turned the TV off. As much as the idea of being drafted disgusted her, she knew she had no choice otherwise. She turned to Fry and Bender.

“Wake up, you to,” she said. When she got no response, she repeated herself, in a slightly more menacing tone. When that didn’t work, Leela repeated a mantra of “I hate my job, I hate my job, I hate my job”, as she dragged to two sleeping sacks of lard towards the ship.

--------------------------

“Able-bodied? Leela, the last time I checked, I’m about as able-bodied as…someone who’s not able-bodied at all!” Fry protested as Leela led him and Bender towards the spaceport where the Nimbus was docked. About a thousand people stood under the vessel's menacing shadow in two parallel lines, single file.

“Fry, I know that and you know that and Bender knows that, but the military has yet to discover how stupid you really are. So let’s just get this over with, okay?” Leela assured the delivery boy.

“But I thought this draft thing was mandatory,” Bender said. “Doesn’t that mean that Meatbag here will have to fight no matter what?”

“Trust me on this one, guys,” Leela said. “None of us are gonna have to fight, alright?”

“But how do you know for sure?” Fry asked.

“I just do,” she said. Although, in reality, Leela wasn’t entirely sure that they wouldn’t have to fight. It all depended on whether or not her instincts regarding Zapp Brannigan were correct.

Upon reaching the two lines of men and women, the trio was instructed to stand in one of the rows and wait for Captain Brannigan to arrive. He would give them further instruction.

After about twenty minutes of waiting, Zapp arrived at the dock and approached the soldiers-to-be. He greeted them all, and then immediately requested that they take their shirts off. “Well, not the ladies,” he clarified, before adding with a smile, “Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

Fry turned to Leela. “But I don’t wanna take my shirt off!” he whined.

“Oh, Fry, you’re just self-conscious about your unsightly back fat. Get over it.” Leela said.

“I do not have unsightly back fat!” Fry said in defense.

“Yeah ya do,” Bender assured him.

Meanwhile, Zapp examined the rows of people. With great care of course.

“Too fat. Too fat. Have you ever heard of waxing, buddy? Too fat,” he said as he passed four hopefuls. He then instructed them all to look into Slim Fast, and they were unceremoniously dismissed.

“Sir, do you even know what ‘mandatory’ means?” Kif asked Zapp as he followed the captain.

“Of course I do,” Zapp said as he told 5 women not to worry their pretty little heads about the war, but to meet him in his quarters in an hour.

“Good. Just checking,” Kif sighed, defeated.

Fifteen minutes and about a dozen sighs later, Zapp made it to the Planet Express Three. His eyes settled on Fry, and the captain came to the conclusion that the delivery boy was the perfect candidate for his very sensual army.

“Uh, wait!” Fry said. “I’m not sensual at all.”

“Or qualified!” Bender chimed in. “Oh, and, uh, look at this!” he said as he spun Fry around.

“Ew…back fat,” Zapp moaned. “Perhaps I spoke too soon.”

“Woo hoo!” Fry exclaimed.

“However,” Zapp turned to Bender,” I like your keen eye for very unflattering flab misfortunes. You’re perfect for my troops!“

“What?” Bender asked, shocked.

“Wait!” Leela intervened. “Zapp, you’re making a terrible mistake.”

Zapp’s eyes lit up as he noticed Leela, and he forcefully knocked Bender to the ground as he made his way towards her.

“And so ends your military career,” Fry said as he offered his buddy a hand.

Zapp turned to Leela. “Well, well, well,” he said, “What are the chances of us meeting like this?”

“Yeah, really,” Leela half-heartedly agreed. “Listen, Zapp, about his whole draft thing—“

“Oh, that,” he smiled. “Forget about it, my Blossom of Sexy Things. You just fly back home with your ugly friends and rest assured that Zapp Brannigan’s got everything covered.”

“Well, as…fun…as that would be, Zapp, I’ve actually got a proposition for you.”

“A proposition?”  Zapp repeated, slightly confused. He turned to Kif for clarification. “Is that something dirty?” he asked, quietly.

“No, sir,” Kif answered him.

“Oh. Just checking.” Zapp turned back to Leela. “A proposition, eh? Go on.”

“Um…” Leela paused. What exactly was the proposition she had in mind? The first part of her plan had worked—none of them had been drafted. At least now she didn’t have to worry about her friends’ pathetic asses being blown to smithereens in some pointless war. But, she still had yet to come up with the second part of the plan. You know, the part that would result in there not being a war at all.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t get that. Could you speak up?” Zapp said after a few moments of silence had passed.

For some strange reason, the word “sorry” really resonated with Leela as she stared at the pompous ape-like creature that was Zapp Brannigan. His “sorry” had been what had angered the Benadrylians to this point in the first place. If not for his so-called “apology”, Earth probably wouldn’t have been in this position right now. If he had just tried a little bit harder to appeal to Ty Lenol, there wouldn’t have been any problem at all.

“Um, Leela, are you alright?” Kif asked, breaking the spell that one little word seemed to have over the cyclops.

“Oh, yeah. Right. Sorry,” Leela said. There was that word again. Maybe that’s all there was to it. “Um, speaking of ‘sorry’,” she started, “That’s what I’d like to talk to you about.”

“Alright,” Zapp said. “Continue.”

“Maybe that’s all it would take to make the Benadrylians happy. Not to say that your…heartfelt…apology wasn’t great, Zapp, but it wasn’t what those aliens were looking for. If you just let me try to settle things with Ty Lenol, then we could probably stop this war before it starts!” Leela said.

“No way!” Zapp exclaimed. “I wouldn’t think of trying to make amends with that ugly little alien man! If my apology wasn’t good enough for him, then nothing anyone else can say will change his mind.”

Leela sighed. Not because she didn’t know how to change Zapp’s mind, but because she did.

“But Zapp,” she cooed, inching closer to the lothario, “Don’t you have any faith in me?”

“Um…” Zapp’s voice wavered.

Leela almost had him. Time to go in for the kill. She leaned in to him and whispered, “If you let me talk to Ty Lenol, I’ll give you something very special in return.”

Zapp cleared his throat as Leela backed away from him, flashing him a drop-dead gorgeous smile. If there was one thing Zapp couldn’t say no to, it was a whore. So what if the very special thing that Leela had in store for him was less along the lines of sex and more along the lines of a sock puppet? What the Captain didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

“So, Zapp, what do you say?” Leela asked.

“Well, after very careful consideration,” Zapp said, addressing Leela’s chest more so than her face, “I’ve decided that you can make the voyage to that dumb little planet to talk to that dumb little alien.”

“Thank you, Zapp,” Leela said. It may have been the first time that she sincerely meant something she said to the man.

“But, only on one condition!” he added.

Already, Leela regretted that whole sincerity thing. “What would that be?” she asked, trying to keep her cool.

“You have to take Kif with you,” He answered. “Just in case something bad happens. If you can’t have Zapp Brannigan as your protector, than you at least need someone that’s incredibly inferior to him.”

“Um…okay, sure. Why not?” Leela let out a sigh of relief.

“Yes. Okay, indeed,” Zapp grinned.

“So, I guess it’s all settled then,” Leela said. “I’ll just drop off Fry and Bender back at Planet Express, and then Kif and I will be on our way.”

“Excellent,” Zapp concurred. “While you’re gone, I’ll arrange the troops. Just in case your peace talks don’t work out.”  He motioned to said troops, which consisted of about six recruits who had met his exact specifications.

Leela turned to Kif. “Does he even know what ‘mandatory’ means?”

-------------------------

Upon their return to Planet Express, Kif had asked Leela if he could visit Amy for a few minutes before they left for Benadryl 47. She relented, seeing as how a guy like Kif didn’t really seem to have much in his life to look forward to.

While the two lovebirds visited, Leela sat in the lounge, formulating some sort of game plan for the hours—maybe even days—ahead. She was interrupted, however, when Fry entered the room and took a seat next to her on the couch.

“Leela? Can I ask you a question?” he inquired.

“For the last time, Fry, Cap’n Crunch is not a real captain!” Leela answered, slightly irritated.

“No, it’s not that,” Fry said, not at all taken aback by Leela’s tone.

Leela was surprised by this. Maybe Fry really had something important to say. “What is it, then?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“What if things don’t go well with Ty Lenol? What if,” he looked down for a moment. “What if something happens to you?”

Now, Leela would never admit this to anyone unless she was under the influence of some mind-altering substance—like alcohol or bleach or Red Bull—but she almost liked the way Fry sincerely cared about her. Even though she knew she could take care of herself, she couldn’t help but find Fry’s concern kind of endearing.

She took his hand in hers, and looked him straight in the eye as she answered, softly. “Fry, I promise that nothing is going to happen to me.”

“But…” Fry trailed off, somberly.

“Fry, listen to me,” Leela said, careful not to raise her voice at him. “I’m only going to be gone for a few days. And I’m gonna be careful.”

“Promise?” Fry asked.

“Promise,” Leela answered, smiling softly.

“And nothing bad is gonna happen here while you’re gone?”

“Well, so long as you and Bender stay away from the toaster and blender, then I’m pretty sure that everything will be fine.”

“So, does that mean no more Kitchenware Duels?”

“I guess not.”

“We’ll live, I guess,” Fry laughed.

“Yeah,” Leela said. 

The two sat in silence for a moment. Leela noticed that she was still holding Fry’s hand, and lightly let it go.

“I should go get Kif,” she announced quietly.

“Okay,” Fry said, mimicking her tone. “See ya in a few days, then.”

“Yeah,” Leela said as she got up from the couch. “See ya.”

As she walked away, Fry called after her. “Hey, Leela!”

“Yeah?” she answered.

“Everything’s gonna be fine?” he asked.

Leela smiled at him. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

---------------------------
Throughout history, people have learned the hard way that, if there is a higher power out there, he sure has a great sense of humor.

Case in point: Whenever anyone tells you “Everything’s gonna be fine”, things always go horribly, horribly wrong. In fact, on the night the Titanic sunk, one of the

crewmembers probably assured the captain that, “Everything’s gonna be fine. Iceberg

Shmice-berg, right?”

In quite the same manner, when Leela promised Fry that nothing would go wrong while she was gone, she might as well have been saying “Okay, you up there, that’s your cue to mess everything up!”

It was a normal day at Planet Express. The crewmembers (sans Leela, of course) sat around the conference table and pretended to listen to Hermes prattle on and on about how outraged he was by the fact that none of the employees ever gathered all the loose eraser shavings after they were done using a pencil, and gave them to him to add to his collection.

“In fact, I think I’m actually missing some shavings!” Hermes exclaimed as he instinctively turned to Dr. Zoidberg.

“I thought they were candy…” the crustacean admitted, sheepishly.

“Speaking of candy,” Professor Hubert Farnsworth started, “I need someone to help test out my newest creation.”

“Does it taste like candy?” Fry asked.

“Oh my, no. It tastes more like some sort of toxic cleaning product. With a touch of paprika thrown in for flavor.”

“Paprika, you say?” Zoidberg asked, tempted.

“Hey, no, I called it first!” Fry protested.

“Dere’s only one way to solve dis, and dat’s bureaucratically,” Hermes said, as he pointed to Fry. “Eeny meeny miney moe…”

After five rounds of Eeny Meeny Miney Moe, and several recounts, it was decided that Zoidberg would test out the Professor’s creation first, and then Fry would get a chance to try it out.

“So, what purpose does this candy you speak of serve, exactly?” the lobster asked as the Professor led his two subjects to his laboratory.

“Why, I’m trying to see if I can make someone’s innards glow in the dark!” the scientist stated, excitedly.

“How exactly is that useful?” Fry inquired.

“Don’t bother me—I’m a genius!” Farnsworth barked.

Well, Fry couldn’t argue with that logic, now could he? So, instead he took a seat as his geriatric nephew prepared Dr. Zoidberg for his turn as a pseudo-human guinea pig.

“Now this won’t not hurt at all,” the Professor assured his subject.

“Wait, but--“ Before Dr. Zoidberg could argue, something odd happened.

It started out slowly--just a small tremor that shook the room around a bit. Then it worsened, becoming a full-fledged, "Run for your life!"-type earthquake. Beakers began to violently shake until they exploded, in a spectacular burst that sent everyone falling to the floor. Zoidberg flailed madly on the floor, while Fry and Farnsworth quickly shot under the desk, protecting themselves from the crashing objects.

"What's going on?" Fry asked, his voice shaking as much as the world surrounding him.

The Professor responded rather curiously, "I'm not sure. Either the world has come to an end, or this is some horrible nightmare that I'm having."

For some strange reason, that didn't really make Fry feel any better.

Suddenly, the lab door slid open and Amy staggered into the room, using the vibrating walls around her as a rather useless support. She fell to the ground and slowly but surely dragged herself over to the makeshift fortress that Farnsworth and his uncle had come about. After a minute of avoiding pieces of glass and fluorescent chemicals on the floor, Amy finally completed her journey to the duo. Of course, by this time, the quaking had minimized and Amy was able to pull herself to her feet. Irony sure does suck.

Rather then ponder that cosmic injustice, Amy made an announcement. "There's something on TV that you guys have to see. Come on," she instructed, offering the ailing professor her hand.

Fry, in the meantime, crawled out from under the table and stood up. He walked over to where Dr. Zoidberg lay, and helped him up off the floor. The four workers then played a good ol' game of "Don't Step on the Shattered Glass And Lose a Toe" as they hopped cross the floor, making sure to avoid any of the innumerable hazards strewn about it.

As they ran into the lounge, Bender inexplicably entered through the back door, in a bit of a shock. Agitated, he asked Amy, "What the hell is going on?"

She quickly grabbed the remote and turned up the volume in response.

On the screen, the unlikely duo of a large green alien a short-haired blonde woman began to read the urgent news off of the teleprompter.

Linda began, "In late breaking news, the aliens of Benadryl 47 have launched a full-frontal assault on Earth. Needless to say, they're really shaking things up!" she joked, much to the discomfort of anyone with half a brain.

A clearly disgusted Morbo finished off with, "Those peons who actually value human life recommend that you seek shelter in a safe area, with any large objects secured."

The crew's eyes automatically darted to the rotund Hermes, who had just entered the room in disarray. "What?" he asked, confused by the sudden barrage of stares.

"Um...nothing," Fry assured him.

Meanwhile, the Professor was formulating a plan of his own. He stroked his chin--an obvious sign that he was, indeed, formulating a plan of his own--and then announced, "Everyone down to the basement! I have just the area for us to protect ourselves in!"

He began to head towards the door, making an effort to shuffle faster than usual. Hermes and Amy followed him.

Bender, on the other hand, headed in the opposite direction. When Fry asked him where exactly he was going, the robot simply shrugged. "Might as well get some things to keep ourselves amused while we're locked away. C'mon," he motioned.

Fry made no attempt to move, panicked as he was. After a long silence, he finally managed to say, "Sorry Bender, but I won't need anything."

"Not even booze?" Bender questioned, dumbfounded.

Fry hesitated a moment, but eventually shook his head no. "But you can go ahead, Bender. Only you gotta be back in five minutes, okay?" he added. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

Bender, slightly irritated with this "emotion" that Fry insisted on displaying, simply rolled his eyes. "Yeah yeah," he said, as he turned to leave. "Don't worry--I'm not gonna die, Skintube," he laughed.

Fry winced at Bender's mention of death. It was still a pretty sore subject, especially considering the fact that Leela still hadn't returned from her peace talk dealie with Ty Lenol. It was bad enough she wasn't there to comfort him--hell, for all he knew, Leela could have been in danger on Benadryl 47 at that very moment--but Fry didn't want to have to worry about losing Bender, too.

Bender left for his locker to find himself some lowbrow sustenance, as Fry made his way towards the Professor's safe area. It was the same big dome that Farnsworth had used when the crew had been exposed to the aging tar, to return their ages to normal. The old man was getting help from Hermes in setting it up again.

Fry, Amy, and a very fidgety Dr. Zoidberg looked on.

"What are you so freaked out about?" Amy calmly questioned the crustacean.

"These end-of-the-world things always make me nervous," he explained. I mean, we could be trapped down here for days and I would be without food!"

"How is that different from any other day?" Amy quipped.

"You have a point, friend," Zoidberg sighed, and proceeded to crouch on the floor in he fetal position.

Amy was less interested in this spectacle, however, and more engrossed in the stress hat played out on Fry's face.

She patted his shoulder, in a comforting gesture. "You'll be ok," she assured him. "We'll all be fine."

"Not you, too," Fry muttered to himself, reflecting on his conversation with Leela a few days prior. Of course Amy hadn't actually promised safety, but she was still wrong. It was obvious that everything was, in fact, going horribly, horribly wrong.

Suddenly, the ground began to shake again. As the jolts became more aggressive, Fry noticed that Bender still hadn't returned after five minutes.

Meanwhile, the Professor had gotten the door of his Dome Of Safety opened, and was motioning for his crew to get in. Fry slowly stepped back, then quickly turned and ran in the opposite direction.

In between the beat of his heart ringing in his ears, Fry heard Hermes shout, "Where are ya goin' ya banana-brained moron!?"

Fry shouted back to him breathlessly, "Saving Bender!"

Without another word he ran out the door, stumbling over steps as he made his way upstairs. Fry could smell smoke coming from the lockers. He squeezed through the half-opened door. Alarmed, Bender turned and had dropped his swag. He jumped when he saw Fry emerge from the fog.

"Bender! What's going on!?" he asked, choking on the fumes.

"Fry!" Bender exclaimed. "Oh, thank God, it's you!"

"What happened?" Fry repeated, fighting his way through the thick clouds of smoke as he made his way towards Bender.

"I don't know! I was just minding my own business, looting your locker, and then the ground started shaking again. One of the pipes burst!"

Fry was alternating between coughing madly and gasping for air as he neared Bender and the fuming pipe. "We gotta get out of here!" he instructed.

Bender nodded, as he tried to reach out for Fry through the heavy air. Just as their hands made contact, Bender heard a loud snap. Before he knew what had happened, Fry's hand was gone. Frightened, Bender fought madly through the plumes of smoke to make his way towards his fallen buddy, and the large support beam that had buried him...

----------------------

To say that things had gone badly for Leela and Kif on Benadryl 47 would be a gross understatement.

It turns out that, in reality, Ty Lenol wasn’t looking for an apology at all. The ailing ruler was really more interested in blowing something up. And Earth seemed like the perfect target.

“I know that he was mad at us, but couldn’t he have at least heard us out?” Kif thought out loud as Leela flew the ship back towards Earth.

“Yeah,” Leela agreed. “And, as if ignoring us wasn’t bad enough, he didn’t have to poke us with those tongue depressors!”

“You know, for a dying man, he’s really strong. I have the scars to prove it!”

“I hear that,” Leela doubly agreed.

The two sighed in unison. Leela got the feeling that they both had a pretty good idea of what it was like always trying to do the right thing.

“Well, at least we tried, right?” Kif said. “I mean, that has to count for something.”

“Probably not for much, though.” Leela said.

“So I guess this means that Zapp is gonna get his wish.”

“What was his wish?” Leela asked, assuming that it had something to do with scantily clad women and a can of whipped cream.

“He loves these sort of things. Wars, I mean. Confrontations. He’s very big on killing things.” Kif sighed for about the hundredth time that day.

“I sort of get that vibe from him, yeah,” Leela said.

Kif didn’t even seem to hear her vain attempt at humor. “I just hope he knows what he’s getting himself into.”

Something in Kif’s tone struck a chord with Leela. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“Ty Lenol’s not going to stop until something awful happens. I can just feel it.”

Leela instantly hated Kif for saying that. She hated him for being so damn pensive. She hated him for wallowing.

She hated him for being right.

The duo sat in silence for the remainder of the trip. When they finally reached the dock where the Nimbus sat, Leela shook Kif’s hand, and then sped off. She didn’t want to be anywhere near him.

And Leela thought that Zapp was the only DOOP member who could put her in such a bad mood...

------------------------

Leela hated notes.

The problem with a note, she thought, is that it never gives you a sufficient amount of information. The extent of thought that goes into one of those things is usually very scarce. You know, something along the lines of “Johnny swallowed a pair of scissors. Meet us at the hospital. Bring lots of Band-Aids.” The writer never feels the need to tell the reader about Johnny’s current condition, let alone why someone would swallow a pair of scissors in the first place.

The same thing goes for the note that Leela was greeted with when she arrived back at Planet Express.

“There was an accident. Fry is in the hospital. Come as soon as you can.”

As Leela ran frantically towards Taco Bellevue Hospital, she pondered what that note really meant. What exactly happened? Was Fry going to be all right? And most importantly, how long had he been in the hospital? I mean, for all Leela knew, her friend could have died, been buried, and had a nice ceremony followed by a moist chocolate cake with the words “Rest In Peace, Fry” written on it with some sort of jelly-like topping.

Needless to say, that wasn’t really the most pleasant thought. So, Leela pushed it to the back of her mind and continued to run towards the hospital in silence.

About five minutes later, she burst through the main entrance and sprinted to the front desk. “Friend…Philip…Fry. In…hospital. Don’t…know…what…him…happened to,” an exhausted Leela managed between breaths.

The secretary did her utmost to aid the fatigued cyclops. “Um…what?” she asked.

Leela took in a deep breath, and took a moment to compose her thoughts. “I’m looking for Philip J. Fry,” she announced. “Is he here?”

“How am I supposed to know something like that?” the secretary, Joan, asked.

“Isn’t that your job?” Leela countered, slightly irritated.

“How an I supposed to know something like that?”

“You said that already!” a completely frustrated Leela exclaimed.

The secretary stared at the gasping one-eyed woman for a moment, a blank stare covering her face. “Hello, Miss. How may I help you?” she finally asked.

“Oh, for the love of God!” Leela was getting sick and tired of dealing with idiots. She contemplated punching this Joan character in the face, but this was one occasion where violence wasn’t going to get Leela what she wanted. She resorted to using words, instead.

“Miss?” Joan asked again, pulling Leela out of her reverie.

“Could you please tell me if there’s a Philip J. Fry in this building?” Leela asked, praying for a positive outcome.

A moment passed, as Joan just stared at Leela. Finally, she answered. “How am I supposed to know something like that?”

Okay, now it was ass-kicking time. “Listen, you!” Leela cried. “I’ve had a very long day, and you’re not making it any easier! Now, I know my friend is somewhere in there, and if you don’t tell me where, then I’ll—“

“Leela!” a familiar voice suddenly called out, excitedly.

“Huh?” the enraged cyclops said, turning towards the source of the noise.

“I thought I heard a high-pitched squeal coming from out here!” the voice continued.

“Amy!” Leela proclaimed, thrilled to see a familiar face. She ran over to her co-worker.

“Spluh! Of course it’s me! Didn’t you get my note?” Amy asked.

Oh, you mean that Pulitzer-worthy dissertation you left for me? Leela thought of saying. Thinking better of it, she settled on the succinct, rather than the sarcastic. “Yeah, I got your note,” Leela answered. “What happened?”

The intern’s head sort of fell, and she suddenly found her shoes much more interesting than her captain’s face.

“Amy?” Leela asked, frightened. “What is it, Amy?”

“Come on,” Amy whispered, as she began to lead Leela down a long corridor.

Leela’s mind wandered to the most terrifying places during that long walk to Fry’s room. She pictured protruding needles, feeding tubes, blood.

What she was met with was even worse.

In the little white room stood a lone pole with an IV bag hanging from it. And the centerpiece of the room: a pale, limp, dead-looking Fry.

Leela’s heart sank. “Oh my god,” was all she could manage.

“Leela,” Amy began, offering a comforting hand on her friend’s shoulder.

Leela, oblivious to Amy’s attempt at compassion, leaned back against the wall, a look of complete shock coming over her face. Her eye began to twitch, and she tried to open her mouth to speak, but to no avail. Her heart was barely beating.
 
Amy again tried to offer her hand, but Leela jerked it off, "Why-why didn't anyone try to tell me sooner?" she managed to stutter.
 
Amy sighed. "We couldn't find you when it happened. And everyone was so worried about Fry. We just lost focus."
 
Leela turned her head to face Amy. "But I'm his friend. I'm the one who’s supposed to be there for him. Me."
 
Again, Amy averted Leela’s gaze. Leela frowned and stared back into the nothingness. All of sudden, she was overwhelmed with an immense feeling of guilt. Fry was lying in some damn hospital bed, dying, for all she knew. And it was all her fault.

Leela could feel tears piercing her eye. She looked back at Amy and weakly opened her mouth. "What-what if he dies?"
 
"You don't need to exaggerate Leela,” Amy sternly affirmed. “He'll be fine-"
 
"But what if he's not?" Leela interrupted. She swallowed hard as her throat grew dry and soar. "What if he's paralyzed or something? What if he becomes a vegetable? What if-"
 
"Stop it Leela! Why are you saying this?" Amy cried.
 
Leela was ignorant to her friend’s plea. “What if he dies?” she whispered, sadly. Her heart sank upon admitting her deepest fear. To hear herself actually surrendering to the very real fact that Fry might not make it made Leela wish she herself were dead.

The dejected captain looked down again, lowering her shoulders. She could feel the tears in her eye pour out. Leela turned to Amy, as the tears streamed freely down her cheeks. 
 
Amy rubbed her friend’s arm supportively, and this time she didn’t pull away. "If Fry was going to die, he would try his hardest to pull through,” Amy assured Leela. “And you know why?"
 
Leela shook her head. “Why?” she asked, quietly.

“You,” Amy said, simply.
 
A small smile grew on Leela's face, but quickly escaped as more tears began to roll down her face. She sighed deeply, trying to recompose herself. She looked down and held her head in her hands, waiting for the assault of tears to cease. Leela began to mutter something softly to herself.

"What?" Amy asked, hearing Leela’s murmurs. 
 
Leela cleared her throat and took a deep breath. She looked to Amy, guilt written in her features. "Before I left, I promised him that I'd be safe. And I told him that nothing would happen to him. I promised him that we’d both be okay. He'd be safe and so would I. That was the plan."

More tears swelled in Leela’s eye, and she broke down crying in her hands. "This wasn’t supposed to happen, she sobbed to herself as Amy sat there, not knowing what to do or say.
 
Amy’s thoughts were drained out by the sound of Leela's continuous cries. She opened her mouth to speak—to say something comforting, anything to make her friend feel better—but stopped. She knew that Leela wasn’t in any state to talk anymore. So instead, Amy draped her arms around Leela’s shoulders, and pulled her closer. Leela made no attempt to resist the embrace, and continued to cry into Amy’s shoulder.

Kif was right, Leela thought to herself in between sobs.

Something awful had happened.

------------------------------

I really enjoyed writing the angst towards the end of that. Well, I enjoyed revising your already-amazing writing of the angst, I guess I should say. Great job on that, Spacedal.

So, what's next? It's your call, really. I recall you saying something about Fry's current state being the catalyst for the crew to express their feelings on the war, masked as their feelings about his condition. I may be wrong though.

Anyway, if you'd like to start tackling that part of the story now, than go right ahead. If you'd rather just outline how you'd want the rest of the story to go (or even just list some basic reactions from the characters), than you can do that too. It's entirely up to you.

So, um...yeah. Just let me know. And, uh, hope you enjoyed the update.
Venus

Urban Legend
***
« Reply #46 on: 11-01-2005 17:39 »

Awwwwww. I loved all the Fry/Leela bits.
JBERGES

Urban Legend
***
« Reply #47 on: 11-01-2005 17:51 »
« Last Edit on: 11-01-2005 17:51 »

I hereby resolve to read this entire story soon!!!

(By posting it, I'm less likely to be lazy and forget.  I apologize for not commenting sooner)
Spacedal11

Space Pope
****
« Reply #48 on: 11-01-2005 20:58 »

“They should have known from the start that I’m perfectly un-insane.

Un-insane. Hahaha!

And that last part was a tear-jerker. Whoever wrote that should get an award...hey I got an award for writing that small part yay!  tongue ...

But seriously Gorky, I was beginning to worry it's almost been a month. But you did not disappoint me. Not at all. The way that Fry got his concusion was different from what I was thinking but yours works. Yes it is my turn now. I shall see to it immediately...maybe  wink

Hey look other people reading it! More yay!
Gorky

Space Pope
****
« Reply #49 on: 11-02-2005 15:33 »

Yay! People are reading! And apparently, I don't suck. That's always good to hear.

And, if we're doing a big resolutions thing, Bergey (no need to apologize for not reading, by the way), then here are some of mine:

1.) Visit PEEL more often (real world be damned!)

2.) Read [insert one of the many incredible authors here at PEEL...um...here]'s latest updates.

3.) Update my other stories (uh...one of these days), 'cause my thread's been dead for months.

And, as for you, Venus, glad to see you're still reading. Oh yeah, and I like the new (well, new to me, anyway) avatar--very sweet. And as for the Fry/Leela interaction in this last part, it seemed sort of off to me, but I kept it in there, 'cause it also felt like it captured something nice between them. Glad to see you enjoyed it.

And, as for you, Spacedal, I hope the Fry concussion thing was up to your standards. I wrote it off the top of my head, so I wasn't sure if it'd work. If you wanna send me your version, maybe we could replace mine with yours. I'd love to read it. Your call, though.

And don't worry about getting this next update to me any time soon. Hell, it took me a month to write this last one. Take your time. I've got other stories to (pretend to be busy) write(ing), too, so it's no biggie.

*Goes back into hibernation for a month*
Spacedal11

Space Pope
****
« Reply #50 on: 11-02-2005 21:41 »
« Last Edit on: 11-02-2005 21:41 »

I can understand how it seemed to change. One minute Fry's an idiot and Leela's telling him so and the next they're being really caring for each other. And the concussion thing was fine. If you really want to know what I would have done, though now that I think of it this part would be a lot longer, maybe it's not worth telling about. I wrote a little last night. Now I just need to figure out where to go from here and see if it flows. Thanks a grande Gorky.
Gorky

Space Pope
****
« Reply #51 on: 11-04-2005 15:48 »
« Last Edit on: 11-04-2005 15:48 »

Just got the e-mail, Spacedal (well, just noticed it, anyway), and I can understand why my version of Fry's concussion scene doesn't fit in with all the symbolism you want later on in the story. That said, go ahead and send me a rough draft of your version, whenever you get around to it. I'm sure it'll be much better than anything I could ever concoct. And besides, I'm sure you have an image in your head of how everything in this story should work out (after all, it was your idea), and you have every right to write it the way you want to. So, no rush, but feel free to send me your version of the scene--I'd love to read it.

Oh yeah, and sorry for not consulting you before writing the scene. I'm still figuring out all this partnership stuff...
Spacedal11

Space Pope
****
« Reply #52 on: 11-04-2005 21:51 »

You know what Gorky, it's my fault that I didn't tell you when you starting writing it. I could have mentioned it when I sent you that last scene. So I'm sorry that it didn't work out. I would have let it go if I didn't stop and think about it. I'll try and work on it this weekend. Thank you so much for understanding.  big grin *Huggles*.
Gorky

Space Pope
****
« Reply #53 on: 11-23-2005 21:44 »

*Grade-A, 100% Bump*

No problem, Spacedal--after reading your version of the "Fry Go Boom" scene, it makes a lot more sense than mine did. Kudos on that.

So, um...here it is--the new version of the Fry-getting-hit-on-the-head-with-stuff scene on its own. I'll edit my above post and insert it in there, too. So, enjoy...

------------------------------------

 Throughout history, people have learned the hard way that, if there is a higher power out there, he sure has a great sense of humor.

Case in point: Whenever anyone tells you “Everything’s gonna be fine”, things always go horribly, horribly wrong. In fact, on the night the Titanic sunk, one of the

crewmembers probably assured the captain that, “Everything’s gonna be fine. Iceberg

Shmice-berg, right?”

In quite the same manner, when Leela promised Fry that nothing would go wrong while she was gone, she might as well have been saying “Okay, you up there, that’s your cue to mess everything up!”

It was a normal day at Planet Express. The crewmembers (sans Leela, of course) sat around the conference table and pretended to listen to Hermes prattle on and on about how outraged he was by the fact that none of the employees ever gathered all the loose eraser shavings after they were done using a pencil, and gave them to him to add to his collection.

“In fact, I think I’m actually missing some shavings!” Hermes exclaimed as he instinctively turned to Dr. Zoidberg.

“I thought they were candy…” the crustacean admitted, sheepishly.

“Speaking of candy,” Professor Hubert Farnsworth started, “I need someone to help test out my newest creation.”

“Does it taste like candy?” Fry asked.

“Oh my, no. It tastes more like some sort of toxic cleaning product. With a touch of paprika thrown in for flavor.”

“Paprika, you say?” Zoidberg asked, tempted.

“Hey, no, I called it first!” Fry protested.

“Dere’s only one way to solve dis, and dat’s bureaucratically,” Hermes said, as he pointed to Fry. “Eeny meeny miney moe…”

After five rounds of Eeny Meeny Miney Moe, and several recounts, it was decided that Zoidberg would test out the Professor’s creation first, and then Fry would get a chance to try it out.

“So, what purpose does this candy you speak of serve, exactly?” the lobster asked as the Professor led his two subjects to his laboratory.

“Why, I’m trying to see if I can make someone’s innards glow in the dark!” the scientist stated, excitedly.

“How exactly is that useful?” Fry inquired.

“Don’t bother me—I’m a genius!” Farnsworth barked.

Well, Fry couldn’t argue with that logic, now could he? So, instead he took a seat as his geriatric nephew prepared Dr. Zoidberg for his turn as a pseudo-human guinea pig.

“Now this won’t not hurt at all,” the Professor assured his subject.

“Wait, but--“ Before Dr. Zoidberg could argue, something odd happened.

It started out slowly--just a small tremor that shook the room around a bit. Then it worsened, becoming a full-fledged, "Run for your life!"-type earthquake. Beakers began to violently shake until they exploded, in a spectacular burst that sent everyone falling to the floor. Zoidberg flailed madly on the floor, while Fry and Farnsworth quickly shot under the desk, protecting themselves from the crashing objects.

"What's going on?" Fry asked, his voice shaking as much as the world surrounding him.

The Professor responded rather curiously, "I'm not sure. Either the world has come to an end, or this is some horrible nightmare that I'm having."

For some strange reason, that didn't really make Fry feel any better.

Suddenly, the lab door slid open and Amy staggered into the room, using the vibrating walls around her as a rather useless support. She fell to the ground and slowly but surely dragged herself over to the makeshift fortress that Farnsworth and his uncle had come about. After a minute of avoiding pieces of glass and fluorescent chemicals on the floor, Amy finally completed her journey to the duo. Of course, by this time, the quaking had minimized and Amy was able to pull herself to her feet. Irony sure does suck.

Rather then ponder that cosmic injustice, Amy made an announcement. "There's something on TV that you guys have to see. Come on," she instructed, offering the ailing professor her hand.

Fry, in the meantime, crawled out from under the table and stood up. He walked over to where Dr. Zoidberg lay, and helped him up off the floor. The four workers then played a good ol' game of "Don't Step on the Shattered Glass And Lose a Toe" as they hopped cross the floor, making sure to avoid any of the innumerable hazards strewn about it.

As they ran into the lounge, Bender inexplicably entered through the back door, in a bit of a shock. Agitated, he asked Amy, "What the hell is going on?"

She quickly grabbed the remote and turned up the volume in response.

On the screen, the unlikely duo of a large green alien a short-haired blonde woman began to read the urgent news off of the teleprompter.

Linda began, "In late breaking news, the aliens of Benadryl 47 have launched a full-frontal assault on Earth. Needless to say, they're really shaking things up!" she joked, much to the discomfort of anyone with half a brain.

A clearly disgusted Morbo finished off with, "Those peons who actually value human life recommend that you seek shelter in a safe area, with any large objects secured."

The crew's eyes automatically darted to the rotund Hermes, who had just entered the room in disarray. "What?" he asked, confused by the sudden barrage of stares.

"Um...nothing," Fry assured him.

Meanwhile, the Professor was formulating a plan of his own. He stroked his chin--an obvious sign that he was, indeed, formulating a plan of his own--and then announced, "Everyone down to the basement! I have just the area for us to protect ourselves in!"

He began to head towards the door, making an effort to shuffle faster than usual. Hermes and Amy followed him.

Bender, on the other hand, headed in the opposite direction. When Fry asked him where exactly he was going, the robot simply shrugged. "Might as well get some things to keep ourselves amused while we're locked away. C'mon," he motioned.

Fry made no attempt to move, panicked as he was. After a long silence, he finally managed to say, "Sorry Bender, but I won't need anything."

"Not even booze?" Bender questioned, dumbfounded.

Fry hesitated a moment, but eventually shook his head no. "But you can go ahead, Bender. Only you gotta be back in five minutes, okay?" he added. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

Bender, slightly irritated with this "emotion" that Fry insisted on displaying, simply rolled his eyes. "Yeah yeah," he said, as he turned to leave. "Don't worry--I'm not gonna die, Skintube," he laughed.

Fry winced at Bender's mention of death. It was still a pretty sore subject, especially considering the fact that Leela still hadn't returned from her peace talk dealie with Ty Lenol. It was bad enough she wasn't there to comfort him--hell, for all he knew, Leela could have been in danger on Benadryl 47 at that very moment--but Fry didn't want to have to worry about losing Bender, too.

Bender left for his locker to find himself some lowbrow sustenance, as Fry made his way towards the Professor's safe area. It was the same big dome that Farnsworth had used when the crew had been exposed to the aging tar, to return their ages to normal. The old man was getting help from Hermes in setting it up again.

Fry, Amy, and a very fidgety Dr. Zoidberg looked on.

"What are you so freaked out about?" Amy calmly questioned the crustacean.

"These end-of-the-world things always make me nervous," he explained. I mean, we could be trapped down here for days and I would be without food!"

"How is that different from any other day?" Amy quipped.

"You have a point, friend," Zoidberg sighed, and proceeded to crouch on the floor in he fetal position.

Amy was less interested in this spectacle, however, and more engrossed in the stress hat played out on Fry's face.

She patted his shoulder, in a comforting gesture. "You'll be ok," she assured him. "We'll all be fine."

"Not you, too," Fry muttered to himself, reflecting on his conversation with Leela a few days prior. Of course Amy hadn't actually promised safety, but she was still wrong. It was obvious that everything was, in fact, going horribly, horribly wrong.

Suddenly, the ground began to shake again. As the jolts became more aggressive, Fry noticed that Bender still hadn't returned after five minutes.

Meanwhile, the Professor had gotten the door of his Dome Of Safety opened, and was motioning for his crew to get in. Fry slowly stepped back, then quickly turned and ran in the opposite direction.

In between the beat of his heart ringing in his ears, Fry heard Hermes shout, "Where are ya goin' ya banana-brained moron!?"

Fry shouted back to him breathlessly, "Saving Bender!"

Without another word he ran out the door, stumbling over steps as he made his way upstairs. Fry could smell smoke coming from the lockers. He squeezed through the half-opened door. Alarmed, Bender turned and had dropped his swag. He jumped when he saw Fry emerge from the fog.

"Bender! What's going on!?" he asked, choking on the fumes.

"Fry!" Bender exclaimed. "Oh, thank God, it's you!"

"What happened?" Fry repeated, fighting his way through the thick clouds of smoke as he made his way towards Bender.

"I don't know! I was just minding my own business, looting your locker, and then the ground started shaking again. One of the pipes burst!"

Fry was alternating between coughing madly and gasping for air as he neared Bender and the fuming pipe. "We gotta get out of here!" he instructed.

Bender nodded, as he tried to reach out for Fry through the heavy air. Just as their hands made contact, Bender heard a loud snap. Before he knew what had happened, Fry's hand was gone. Frightened, Bender fought madly through the plumes of smoke to make his way towards his fallen buddy, and the large support beam that had buried him...

----------------------------

Hope you enjoyed that, Spacedal, and I eagerly await your next update.
Spacedal11

Space Pope
****
« Reply #54 on: 11-23-2005 22:28 »

Yay! The dramaticy (new word) and the comedy were just perfect. I loved it. And surprisingly last night after I finished that I got a lot of the other update done. I'm proud of myself and shall for see my next assignment.
Gorky

Space Pope
****
« Reply #55 on: 11-26-2005 08:07 »

Dramaticy, eh? I like it. And I like that you liked the update, 'cause I liked your version of that scene even better than I liked...um, you get it. That's enough babbling.

Anyway, I got the e-mail, Spacedal, and I'm editing the rough draft right now. Since I should have some free time (something that's been an unknown concept to me lately) in the next few weeks, I figure I can work on the next update, too, then wrap 'em both up in a nice neat bundle, mostly 'cause I just like to say "bundle".

Er, anyway, if you just want to specify what you want the next scene(s) to be (something with Zapp?), then I'd be happy to write. I just don't want to write something that wouldn't work for all the symbolic...stuff, and I figure if I have some sort of idea of what to do beforehand, then there's less of a chance of that happening. I just don't want to have to make you rewrite another update of mine, because it's not really fair to you.

So either e-mail or reply here, which ever one works for you, and I'll start a'typin'.

(Oh yeah, and, by the way, I'm enjoying your latest update so far. It's all angsty and it's got the funny thrown in there too, which is good. Kudos, my friend.)
Spacedal11

Space Pope
****
« Reply #56 on: 11-26-2005 11:33 »
« Last Edit on: 11-26-2005 11:33 »

Thanks for asking me, and you know I think both of us were at wrong cause we both had opprotunities to ask about that scene but we did not do it. So we're both bad partners   tongue.


That's what I'm thinking and if you want to do the next update go ahead. I'm glad you liked the update! Like I said in the email, I worked all of Thanksgiving day to send it. I never work on a story all day, 3 hours is my maximum. That update should feel special! Heh, well if you gotta any questions you know where to find me.
Crash_7

Professor
*
« Reply #57 on: 11-27-2005 08:52 »

Looking forward to it.  Just out of curiousity, what ever happened to "The Purple Skies Are Scarier"?  I was enjoying that one, too.
Spacedal11

Space Pope
****
« Reply #58 on: 11-27-2005 11:37 »

 
Quote
Originally posted by Crash_7:
Looking forward to it.  Just out of curiousity, what ever happened to "The Purple Skies Are Scarier"?  I was enjoying that one, too.

Ooo really? Actually I changed the title to The Way That It Is. It's on TLZ if you go to the fan fic section and look in my section. I'd of thought lots of people forgot about that one.
Gorky

Space Pope
****
« Reply #59 on: 11-28-2005 13:03 »

Alrighty then, Spacedal. Your sucky partner ( tongue) will work on this next update, and will definitely incorporate those ideas you put in spoiler territory. And she will also make an attempt to stop talking in the third person like this, 'cause it's kinda creepy.
Spacedal11

Space Pope
****
« Reply #60 on: 11-28-2005 18:44 »

NO! Spacedal loves talking to her friends in third person. She is happy that you'll be working on the next update and looks forward to the revision. Spacedal is glad to be part of this sucky partnership!  big grin
Gorky

Space Pope
****
« Reply #61 on: 01-05-2006 15:31 »

*Omigod-Gorky's-ALIVE-*BUMP*

After six weeks, my friend. SIX WEEKS. In six weeks, you could have ordered a Chia Pet off the back of a cereal box and gotten it already. I tell ya, you could set your watch by my laziness.

Now, even though I'm sure I'm filling you with false hope by actually posting, I am, unfortunately, not bearing an update. There are two explanations for this: one is totally lame (but it's the truth), and the other involves me being kidnapped by a leper colony (which is only a half-truth  tongue) I'm opting for the truth, because the leper story is kind of painful to relate to others.

So, right, the truth: I'm very lazy. And when I'm not busy being lazy, I'm busy with stuff that I don't want to do (trust me, I'd much rather be writing this story full-time, but, unfortunately, that's not gonna happen). So, that leaves a very narrow window of time where I get to work on our story. I realize this is totally unfair to you, and I don't think I can apologize enough for how terrible I am (terrible enough to not check my e-mail in forever and see that you've been e-mailing me stuff). When you add into the mix the fact that December is so totally crazy for me, and the fact that I cannot write satire (which is kind of what the whole "captain's log" is ending up as...it's sort of less a captain's log, and more of a "what's coming up in the war" thingy, so that, if you want to, you can focus more on what's going on with Fry and company), then you've got my life in the past six weeks.

Anyway, I just wanted to check in and make sure you didn't try to find a new partner or anything, or start making my funeral arrangements. Oh yeah, and have I mentioned that I'm very, very, very, very, very [excessive "very"s] sorry about my six-week (six-week plus, I guess, considering the fact that I am almost--but not quite--done with the Zapp scene, which is when I'm finally gonna post the update) absence. I'm not going to offer you any time frame as to when I will be finished, because that always ends up badly.

Oh yeah, and, once more, I must add an "I'm-so-sorry-and-horrible-and-tarring-and-feathering-is-too-good-for-a-monster-like-me" chorus.
Venus

Urban Legend
***
« Reply #62 on: 01-05-2006 16:22 »

Gorky does this mean you've abandoned all your other fics?
Spacedal11

Space Pope
****
« Reply #63 on: 01-05-2006 18:56 »

Yes! She is alive.

Poor Gorky now I feel like the badie. I only sent you that email to see if you would respond, I thought you were dead. No more updates for you after this one for a while. Leave it to me and I'll just write for myself and all you have to do is beta it. I feel so bad. I'm sure you felt like I was pressuring you to move it but I'm not. The story can wait. And I totally understand that you've been really busy. You put your feet up and rest for a while and I'll be the one who takes 6 weeks to update.

And don't make yourself feel any worse then you have to. I'm just glad that I can get a refund on that casket I bought  wink.   
Gorky

Space Pope
****
« Reply #64 on: 01-09-2006 12:22 »

Aw, Spacedal, I didn't think you were pressuring me at all. In fact, all the guilt I felt was pretty much self-imposed. I just didn't want you to think I was dead or anything, because my lack of properly-functioning e-mail address and lack of properly-functioning computer pretty much cuts me off from the rest of the world. Like I said, the whole six weeks to update thing was totally my fault--I wasn't trying to blame you or anything like that. I just wanted you to have some concrete evidence that I am alive and well (I felt terrible that I was out of contact with you for so long is all).

And don't get the wrong impression: I love writing this story, it's just that I guess I don't have as much free time as I was hoping I would. I'll try to get the update out as quickly as I can, just so you have something to work from. Of course, that doesn't mean that you're off the hook or anything: I'm still gonna rear my ugly head in once in a while to write a sub-standard update for this story. I just hate leaving you hanging for so long--I guess reliability isn't one of my strong suits.

So, to review: Don't Feel Bad, Spacedal! None of my guilt is due to you, and, uh...here's fifty bucks*...go buy yourself something nice.

*Fifty bucks are only redeemable on Mars...sorry about that...

P.S.: Venus..."abandon" is such a tricky word. If by abandon, you mean have I given up on any of my solo stories, then I've gotta say no. But, if you mean have I put them on the back-burner for now, then that would be a yes. See the second paragraph of my message to Spacedal if you would care to hear more about my reliability issues. (And I actually have been writing down stuff for my many, many other fics lately, so an update should be coming...eventually.)
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