

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
//////////////////////////////// WARNING! \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

       This is an ADULTS ONLY comedy file. It contains some language and
    descriptions which may offend some people. If you feel you are likely to
                be one of these people, stop reading NOW.

+-----------------------------------------------------------------------------+

    "LIKE DATA THROUGH THE PHONE LINES... SO ARE THE DAYS OF OUR DRIVES..."

    The
                      ______/|                   __
                      |   __ |                  /  \
                      \  |  \|                  |  /
                       | |      ___  ___  _/\   | |
                       | |__/|  | |  | |  \_/   | |
                       |     |  | |  | |  ___   | |
                      /   __ |  \ \  | |  | |   | |
                      |  |  \|   \ \/ _/  | |  /  /
                      |  |        \__/    | |  |  |/|
                      |  |__/|            |_|  |____|
            _____     |_____ |
           /  _  \     _    \|         _              __
          /  / \  \   | |___     _____/ |   ______   /  \
         /_ /   \  |  |  __ \   /  __   |  / ___  |  |  /    _____
          | |___|  |  | /  \ \  | /  \  |  | |  \ |  | |    /   _ \
          |  ___   |  | |  | |  | |   | |  | |  | /  | |    \_  \\_|
          | /   |  |  | |  | |  | |  _| |  | \__/ |  | |      \  \
          | |   |  |  |_|  |/   \ \_/   |  |  ___/   | |    __ |  |
         /__|   |  |             \___/| |  \  |____  | | __ \ \/  /
                \___\                 | |   \_____/  \ \/ /  \___/
                            /|________/ |             \__/
                           /  __________/
                           \_|
               ____
              /   / ___  ___  ____  ___  ___  _/_  ____
             /___/ /    /__/ /___  /__/ /  /  /   /___
            /     /    /___  ___/ /___ /  /  /    ___/   o  o  o

                Another Expedition Into The Realms Of Stupidity
                                  ... with ...
                         Anarchistic Tendencies Part XV
                               (The Last Edition)

                          ... a soap-opera special ...
                           "THE DAYS OF OUR DRIVES."

                      by Raphael Turtle and Fearless Fred.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                                ============
                                 STOP PRESS
                                ============

     Evil Angels is now dead. Due to loss of contact between its members, the
Evil Angels organisation has now collapsed.

With a little help from Line Noise, here is the last ever Anarchistic 
Tendencies file. Not being name-specific (cos I'll most likely leave someone
out), I'd like to thank the people who created, editted, wrote, or otherwise
contributed to the AT files over the years, as well as you for reading them.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                           ====================
                            Call These Boards!
                           ====================

The Post Office       213/208-6391 Not accepting new users... (Due to near
                                   shutdown... (I think))

Wozmania //gs         213/427-0393 Great for //gs owners... Tech support, etc

The Secret Generation 201/330-7401 All speeds to 57600. (HST) 9600-19200
                                   (HST/PEP) Great BBS for messages...

The French Connection 714/858-8111 All speeds to 17400 PEP... 49 lines...
                                   Great Rapping Board...

                   For interstate callers prefix with 03-
                For international callers prefix with 61/3-

The Cafe                  894-2815 Four Lines

Real World BBS.           596-5050 1200 & 2400, 300 bell (not ccitt)
                                   "It's a good bbs, online sex, and
                                   drink" - Captain Blood

Further Regions           725-1923 All Speeds Modem, lots of Philes

+-----------------------------------------------------------------------------+
IT'S SOAPIE TIME! (And we're not talking about baths - something Fred and
Lonni must regret!)

   VOICEOVER: In last week's episode, Captain Fearless was in training for his
mission when he lapsed into hallucination. His tour of duty in Vietnam was
replayed before his eyes, and restored his memories of the horrific accident
that ended a possibly brilliant career in professional high speed maniac
driving. [Impotency??? -LN]

Meanwhile, the evil oil baron, T.M. Avenger was in a particularly foul mood
at discovering his adopted second cousin's half brother, Gordie T. Cab, in a
wardrobe making love to a MALE rubber doll. "I always thort ya was a flamin'
closet homosexual! Get out! I never want to see your pimple spotted face in
here again!!"

Gordie was thrown out into the street where, unknown to him, a murder was
taking place in an alley close by. The allegedly dead person was none other
than Lance Link who was to be the best person at the marriage between Night
Stalker and Janine. [Fuckin' women's Lib!!! -LN]

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

The experiment was scheduled to begin at eight hundred hours. A specially bred
monkey had been chosen to be the "guinea pig" in this history making voyage. A
voyage inside a living being!

Fred, the captain, burst through the door, followed by Raphael Turtle. The crew
of two paused, Raphael and Fred studied the room as Fred made himself a mug of
coffee. A bank of computer consoles lined the opposite wall. There were no
windows in this room. It was buried 18 floors beneath the infamous corporate
offices of Avenger Oil, and the view would have been pretty uninteresting;
worms and that sort of thing.

The wall behind them was hospital green, that sort of colour that always looks
as if it needs a fresh coat of paint. In the centre of the room stood a large
metallic device that looked almost, but not entirely unlike a car wash gone
drastically wrong. It was in fact the culmination of years of research, and
mega bucks of funding. It was a machine capable of shrinking matter.

"The Avenger" had been prepared and was ready for the shrink phase. From the
outside it resembled a heavily armoured submarine. The only noticable
difference being the lack of a periscope.

The subject for the experiment, fondly called Cef, but whose real name shall
remain strictly confidential, was brought into the laboratory. He looked
slightly nervous, which is strange considering the amount of mind dulling
chemicals that had been intravenously added to his bloodstream.

Fred, also known as Captain Fearless, continued studying the room. He studied
the room mainly because it made him look more mysterious and clandestine to the
half dozen technicians that stared in awe when he entered the room. Being one
that thrived on such stares, he stared thoughtfully for just a little too long
at one of the terminals as if to indicate that something was wrong, which
coincidentally there was.

The technician that was responsible for making sure that the little green
flashing lights continued to flash green was horrified by the red flashes.
Nonchalantly, Fred walked over to examine the thing that looked almost, but not
entirely unlike a car wash gone drastically wrong. He stared at it, but the
effect had seemed to have worn off, the red flashing lights seemed to occupy
the full attention of most of the people in the room. In fact they attracted so
much attention that no-one noticed that the room now contained one body less
than it had about two minutes ago.

Fred was rapidly becoming upset at the red flashing lights, which had now begun
flashing amber. The technicians ignored Fred even more. In an attempt to regain
their attention he strode over to the vacant stainless steel table.

"I was under the impression that the subject was going to be prep'd and ready
by now", Cap'n Fearless said as he stared at the theatre table.

"He is..." one of the lower ranking technicians said and glanced up, and
completed the sentence "OH SHIT!"

It appeared that Cef wasn't as dumb as he looked and everyone thought he was.
He'd pissed off!

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

"Woman", T.M. Avenger yelled at one of his secretaries. "I like my coffee the
way I like my women; White, Warm and Wet. Now get me some decent coffee, and
get rid of that body in the corner, it's starting to smell!"

"Well sir, you really shouldn't shoot your doctors when they tell you..."
[BANG!] "...ahhh!" [Thud]

"I never could stand women telling me what to do." T.M. mused as he pressed a
large red button on his desk and yelled "Slut! Get me another secretary, and I
want another doctor to give me his opinion. And this time make sure he knows
what MY prognosis is!" He slammed his fist on the button again. [footnote:
"Masky's prognosis" is that his inability to have sex is nature's way of giving
lesser mortals a chance at the women.]

To himself T.M. considered what one of his former [and late] personal
physicians had told him;

"There is a large blood clot within your penis and this is causing your...
inability shall we say to... ummmm... perform, and also causing your headaches
and difficulty in relieving yourself. Unfortunately, your headaches are
symptomatic of Phlacidphallusitus, which in extreme cases such as yours could
be fatal. As it is such a, let's say... delicate organ, there seems to be only
two solutions, excuse the pun. Firstly, we could operate. But the only
micro-surgeon capable of performing such a delicate operation was, ahhh, fired
by yourself. Secondly, we could simply amputate..."

[BANG!]

T.M. could feel another one of his headaches coming on. He wished that the team
of scientists he had been funding would complete their testing. His only hope
lay in the Shrinking Machine that could shrink a surgeon down to the size of a
blood cell, and remove the clot from within.

Impatiently he stood waiting for his coffee, but as the seconds ticked past his
vision blurred, the room began to wobble, and he stumbled, and collapsed into a
heap on the floor...

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

Even from outside the pollution stained cathedral the grand organ pipes could
be heard. An entourage of limousines, body guards, onlookers and TV reporters
lined the street as the bridal limousine drew to a halt at the base of the
steps.

Janine looked resplendent in her elegant white gown, and the lengthy train that
followed. At the altar stood Night Stalker, still hung over, and nursing the
bruises from his bachelor party. His nervousness was partly due to the lack of
a best man, [person -Ed] [Funny that!!! -LN] but mostly due to the proximity of
marriage.

The organ began the bridal march. Janine, linked arm in arm with her father
figure Craig Bowen, was escorted down the aisle to the altar. The procession
followed in step.

As Craig released Janine's arm he commented to himself that he'd always wanted
to give her something, but giving her away was not what he'd fantasised about.

As Janine drew next to Stalker, and they knelt before the magnificently robed
clergyman.

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

At top speed, the medical team trolleyed T.M. Avenger [Or "Kinko The Avenger"
as he is known to his closest enemies as. -Raph] into the operating theatre on
sub-level eighteen. While several of the technicians strapped the unconscious
oil baron down on the table, Lensman, the leading technician, pressed a button
next to an intercom.

In a nearby room, Captain Fearless answered the intercom, "Yes?"

"You and Raphael get ready to board The Avenger, NOW!"

"Why? What's happened?"

"Just get in here!"

Raphael tossed the newspaper he was reading to one side as he and Fred rushed
out of the room. The paper fell first-page up, showing part of the leading
story:
 ____________________________________________________________________________
|                                                                            |
|                PROSTITUTE FORCED TO "SHELL OUT" ONE MILLION                |
|                                                                            |
|The four legendary "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles today made legal history by|
|being the first reptiles ever to appear before a Court of Law.              |
|  Crowds cheered the Turtles outside the Melbourne Law Courts after they won|
|their case against Ms Aphelia Bottom, a local prostitute.                   |
|  The Turtles were suing Ms Bottom for defamation after she claimed to have |
|slept with one of them, a story which shocked the green quartet.            |
|  "It's completely untrue", Raphael was heard to testify. Donatello said    |
|"It's a proven fact that on the night in question we were answering the     |
|sysop-pager at Fearless Fred's house and later saving people from muggers in|
|the Flagstaff Gardens."                                                     |
|  In court, Ms Bottom broke down into tears and admitted her her claim was a|
|lie she invented for publicity. Ms Bottom has been ordered to pay one       |
|million dollars in compensation, plus legal expenses.                       |
|[page 2: Leonardo says "We aren't those sort of turtles."]                  |
|[page 3: Michaelangelo to spend his share of money on new pizza restauraunt]|
|____________________________________________________________________________|

A minute later, Captain Fearless and Raphael Turtle entered the operating
theatre wearing one-piece, light-grey coveralls.

Lensman, who had been flashing a penlight into Masky's eyes, looked up. "Pull
up your surgical masks", he ordered, nodding towards the masks which hung
around the necks of Fred and Raphael.

"You in the middle of an operation?", asked Raphael, as he pulled hard on the
ties on his mask.

"No, I just can't stand the sight of your ugly faces..." Lensman began.

"Phew! What the hell is that smell?" Fred cut Lensman off, while holding his
nose away from the offending odour. [Masky's breath??? -LN]

"We've got an emergency. Mr Avenger's collapsed, landing in a decomposing body,
that's the smell. It's that clot in his dick. Our only chance of saving him is
by using The Avenger to do ultramicro-surgery."

"But we haven't even tested the equipment!", protested Fred.

"And why should we put our necks out just to save him?", added Raphael.

"Because", said Lensman patiently, "there's a LOT of MONEY involved."

"Sounds good to me!", said Raphael, "Let's go!"

Captain Fearless entered The Avenger first, followed by Raphael, who sealed the
hatch. Fred strapped himself into his chair closest to the front viewing port
of the submersible, and began a well-rehearsed check of the drive controls.

Behind him, and slightly to the left, Raphael did a similar scan of the
navigation equipment.

Fred spoke into a grill on the console, "Okay, we're ready."

There was a violent lurch as the technicians conveyed The Avenger into the
thing that looked almost, but not entirely like a car wash gone drastically
wrong.

"Ready for shrinking process", called out the technician who had been so
horrified by the red and amber flashing lights, but had decided perhaps it was
best just to ignore them, as there was not only no mention of them in the
technical reference manuals, but they seemed to have changed back to green when
the Cafe Bar was refilled with water.

"Okay, do it!", replied Lensman.

The technician ripped down a slide-lever, and a barrage of lasers aimed and
fired simultaneously at The Avenger, their energy slowly forcing its molecules
closer and closer together. Within a minute The Avenger was almost invisible,
still suspended in mid-air by the lasers, and still getting smaller.

"How far do you want it to go?", asked the technician.

"Set the controls for `Very Very Small'."

The technician's hands worked expertly at the controls. When the Avenger was at
a suitably microscopic size, all the lasers cut off, save one in which the ship
was still suspended. This last beam guided the ship into a thin syringe before
it too turned off.

"Ready to inject", said the technician.

"Let the machine handle it", replied Lensman, who didn't feel like doing
anything so menial as handling a syringe. And besides, one of the technicians
had just arrived with a video of last night's episode of "Let The Blood Run
Free."

A robotic claw gently took the syringe, and began moving towards Masky's body.

"Did you tell Melissa (Melissa & Kinko have a purely Platonic relationship.)
[Does that mean it's play for her and a tonic for him? -Raph] Kinko might cark
it before we can remove the clot?", the technician asked Lensman.

"Yep."

"How come you get all the good jobs? SHIT!"

The technician swore as the malfunction that his equipment had detected
suddenly reared its ugly head. One of the joints in the wrist of the robotic
hand shorted out with a small plume of smoke, and the hand went limp in a way
that anyone who has met Lance Link would find curiously familiar. The syringe
fell and its tip embedded itself in Kinko's flesh... in the wrong place.

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

"We are gathered here today to join this... man, and this woman together in
holy matrimony." The priest began the marriage rights. "You all know the usual
stuff that goes on, so let's get to the important bits. Stalk, do you? And
remember there's magnum pointed at your groin."

"Ummm, well, I suppose so." Stalk replied uncertainly.

"Janine, do you?"

"Of course I do, get on with it." Janine replied hastily, putting the safety
catch back on.

"Then repeat after me. I, Night Stalker, do hereby take this desperate nympho
who's the worst soapie bitch since Joan Collins, to be my lawfully wedded wife.
For richer or poorer, in good health and bad, not including any of the
incurable things spread around by sex."

Stalk repeated the vows.

"And Janine, repeat this. I Janine, do hereby forcably take this man to be a
complete sex object to be exploited in every way possible until such time as he
dies of a cardiac arrest or you dump him in the affair-and-divorce sequence the
script writers have probably already got planned for the next season."

Janine repeated the vows.

"Is there anyone present who sees any fit reason why these two should not be
joined together in the sickeningly sweet Marriage Of The Year, to be repeated
tomorrow at the special time of 6:30, and also get a major article in the TV
Week?"

"Yes!" A voice broke the silence at the rear of the church.

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

Meanwhile, at the microscopic level within the body of Masky, Fred and Raphael
were quickly reaching the same conclusion...

"Shit!" Fred exclaimed. "I think something's gone wrong upstairs. This is
definitely not Masky's bum, I can't spot a zit anywhere." [Obviously you're
an expert in identifying Kinko's ass -LN]

"What do we do now?", asked Raphael, giving up on the now-useless navigation
console.

"Let's head upwards. If we're in his leg we'll pass by his dick on the way, if
we're above his dick, we can drop by his stomach, I'm feeling peckish."

Raphael didn't comment, as The Avenger made it's way up a vein.

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

Everyone in the church turned around to stare at the figure in the doorway. It
was Eliminator.

"No, Janine, don't you remember the feelings we had for each other? The love we
used to share?"

F/X:  Violins.

Janine winced. "No Limmy, we drifted apart, it's all over now. Anyway, your
contract with the producers ran out."

Night Stalker looked aghast, put the back of his hand to his forehead, and
turned to stare furiously at a pot plant in the corner, as all amateur soap
opera stars do in dramatic scenes where they don't have any lines.

"Please Janine! I can't live without you!"

"Limmy, please don't put me in this position!" [The 69th??? -LN]

"You can't marry Night Stalker! I've been searching through some old parish
records, and he isn't what he says he is! The real Earl of Stillwater died
three years ago!"

"THAT'S A LIE!", screamed Night Stalker. "Anyway Eliminator, you can never
marry my beloved legally. I know all about the repressed childhood you had,
your miserable existence in the orphanage! Janine is your missing mother!"

Janine broke down into tears. "I'm sorry Limmy, but it's true. It was a teenage
pregnancy, I had no choice but to give you away."

"I won't believe it!", said Eliminator uncertainly.

"It's true", said Craig Bowen softly. Janine looked at him with an expression
which changed from puzzlement to recognition.

"Craig!", she wept, "it can't be you! Craig Michaels?"

"Yes Janine, I'm so sorry I had to leave you. But I was framed with drug
charges. I had to change my name and have plastic surgery... I've been on the
run from the police ever since!"

Janine pushed Eliminator and Night Stalker aside, and threw her arms around
Craig. "Oh god I missed you! This wedding should be OURS!" she sobbed.

Craig shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry Janine, but I got the results of the
tests back this morning, and I've only got six months to live."

"Oh, well screw you then! And Limmy, I still have no intention of marrying
you."

"Then I'll kill myself, and take all of you with me!", screamed Eliminator,
holding up a hand grenade.

All: GASP!

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

As Fred had not been watching where The Avenger was headed (he was trying to
scratch bits off the Emergency Instructions plaque with a razor blade so the
remaining letters spelled out rude words and phrases), it came as quite a
surprise to him as well as Raphael when it ran aground, bucking wildly.
"Shit!", shouted Fred as biros and pieces of paper flew across the deck.

Fred quickly slammed the sub into reverse and floored the accelerator, swung
the steering wheel to full lock, pulled the hand brake, hit the accelerator
again and was about to press the Vertical Take Off button when he gained
control of himself. [Sounds familiar... -LN]

They were well and truly stuck. Fred eased off the power as Raphael unbuckled
himself to peer out of the viewport. All around the vessel was a vast, empty
space stretching off in all directions. The two decided the only thing to do
was to get out and push The Avenger clear.

They left the vessel, with Fred wearing an oxygen tank and rubber mask over his
nose and mouth, and Raphael relying on his turtle's ability to hold his breath
for long periods of time.

Fred looked around them, trying to locate the origin of a mournfully wailing
wind. "Where ARE we?", he asked.

Raphael looked down and scuffed his boots against the metallic floor.

"Hey, this must be the metal plate in Masky's head. We're in his brain!"

Fred parted a curtain of cobwebs, and peered at what appeared to be some kind
of machinery. "Hmm, looks like he's stripped the gears in his brain-box."

"Hey, listen! Do you hear something?"

Fred held his breath to stop the rasping of the breathing in the facemask, and
narrowed his eyes as he heard... voices.

"There's someone in here with us!", Fred exclaimed.

"Do you think they sent in another team to help us find our way?", asked
Raphael.

"Dunno, let's find out", suggested Fred, heading in the direction of the
voices.

The voices led them down a flight of spongy, tissuey steps into Masky's
cerebellum. At the bottom of the steps, Fred and Raphael were amazed to find,
nestled between two lumpy, greyish red walls, a door, made of dark oak and
complete with panels and a brass handle.

A sign tacked to the door, written in an elaborate, flowing script, said
"Meeting In Progress", and inside someone was ranting like Derryn Hinch.

"What the hell is THIS?", asked Fred.

"One way to find out", said Raphael, as he pushed the door open.

As they stepped through the door, several dozen pairs of eyes - some of them on
stalks - swivelled around to look at them.

Before them was an oblongish room. The walls were made of the same
meaty-looking tissue as the rest of Masky's body, though someone had tried to
disguise that fact by hanging up deep red drapes and Pro Hart pictures.

A solid-looking mahogany table ran the length of the room, surrounded by
genuine Louis XIVth chairs. Each place at the table was set with a glass of
water, telephone, several reams of paper, some newly sharpened pencils, and in
each chair was slumped a globular virus of some description or another.

The blob-like AIDS virus that sat at the head of the table wearing a
pin-striped suit (and had evidently been trying a body-corporate takeover)
stopped mid-rant to squint at Fred and Raphael.

"You're late!", he growled, "We've already started! Hurry up and sit down."

Fred and Raphael looked around, and found seats. Fred sat next to a
viscious-looking virus that would have made Syn's cheesecake look appetizing.
[That's gotta be one mean virus!!! -LN]

Raphael was next to a metallic-coloured jelly with faint circuit diagrams
visible under the surface.

"What are you?", asked Raphael.

"Actually I'm a computer virus. Fucked if I know what I'm doing here!"

"As I was saying", resumed the AIDS virus, "as the most feared and deadly virus
in Kinko's body, I demand the rights for a full takeover."

This proposition was met with a babble of protests from the other
representatives present.

"That's not fair", yelled a Genital Herpes virus, "I was here first and that
ought to count for something!"

"I think", said a Syphilis virus, slowly and calmly, "that we ought to just
SHARE his body. I mean, I just want his dick. That's not too much to ask for,
is it? I mean, it's such a small part!"

"That's all very fine", moaned a Gonorrhea bacteria, "but we ALL want his dick.
Pity no woman ever says that, hey?"

"That's a point, a very good point", stated a jelly-like representative of
Trichomonas, "it's his penis we're all after. I think we ought to try to break
away from this old tradition, and try something new. Do you think penile
discharge coming out of the tip of Kinko's nose would work?"

"What about you two?", asked the AIDS virus, looking at Fred and Raphael, "what
do YOU think?"

"Well, I don't know...", faltered Raphael.

"We're sort of new to this body", said Fred uncertainly, "and aren't sure if
we're going to move in... We're just sort of... inspecting the premises. I
don't suppose you could give us directions to his penis?"

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

Meanwhile, somewhere completely unconnected with the story...

"Oh John."

"Oh Marsha."

"Oh John!"

"Oh Marsha!"

"OH JOHN!!!"

"OH MARSHA!!!"

[Marsha does Dallas??? -LN]

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

"Rather kind of those guys to give us directions wasn't it?" Raphael commented
as he later programmed the course into the navigation console.

"Yeah, you got it all didn't you, you know what a terrible navigator I am."
Fred responded as he activated the autopilot.

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

In the church, Janine screamed "No Limmy, don't do it!"

Night Stalker grabbed a knife from the beside the nearby twenty-eight tier
wedding cake, and leapt screaming at Eliminator, slashing wildly.

Eliminator gasped as the bag of animal blood strapped under his shirt was cut
open, turning his chest red.

Everyone screamed as the grenade fell to the ground.... but nothing happened.

"It must have been faulty!", said Night Stalker.

"Oh, that's just typical!", said Craig Bowen in disgust, "The script writers
make such a fuss about what a predicament their characters are in, then CHEAT
their way out of it!"

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

As The Avenger reached Masky's groin area....

"We'll put down here and walk the rest of the way", decided Fred, "so what's
that bit there?" Fred was looking at a large piece of rotting, inflamed tissue
the Avenger was passing over.

Raphael punched up a digitised anatomical diagram on the navicomp, and
declared, "That's his prostrate gland."

"Don't you mean PROSTATE gland?"

"In Masky's case I think I was right the first time."

"Hmmm, I dunno about landing here now. That thing doesn't look too strong."

"Relax Fred! That thing's as stable as my mental condition."

F/X  Prostate gland collapses.

"Ooops!"

Fred gave Raphael a look, and piloted the Avenger a little way further, setting
down somewhere inside Masky's penis. Fred and Raphael left the ship, with Fred
wearing a breathing mask as before and lugging a large laser gun out of the
hatch.

Before them, the tubular passageway got narrower and narrower.

"My god!", exclaimed Raphael, "even at microscopic size his dick's tiny!"

"We'll just have to try removing the clot from here", said Fred decisively, as
he lifted the laser to his shoulder and began firing down T.M.'s urethra. The
beams lanced through the red-brown clot vaguely visible in the narrow tunnel
ahead, dissolving it. With that done, Kinko's sexlife-threatening case of
Phlacidphallisitis was gone.

But what's this? The act of firing a weapon was having a terrible effect on
Captain Fearless!

"The VC have got us penned in sir! But I'm not going without a fight!"

Fred started firing in all directions, and Raph hit the "deck".

"Nam! Nam! Nam!", Fred shrieked, as he saw choppers napalming the jungle around
him. As Fred continued to fire, some of the laser blasts made it all the way
down his urethra and out of his dick, something which almost cost one of the
nurses her tonsils.

The images of his friends getting picked off by snipers around him melted away,
and Fred found himself staring into the face of Raphael.

"Have you finished, Fred?"

"Wha? Oh, yeah...."

After Raphael and Fred re-entered the Avenger, Raphael asked "Now we've
finished what we came in here for, how do we get out?"

"Weeeeellll", said Fred as he over-revved the submersible engines, "we could
just sneak out of one of his bodily orifices."

"Well just be careful which one you pick!"

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

Captain Fred leaned over the Avenger's control and flicked the switch which
activated the wind-screen wipers. The wiper blades struggled to scrape a thick
green slime off the viewport.

"Errr, yuck! What is THAT", exclaimed Raphael, truly grossed out.

"Umm, nasal mucus, actually", said Fred, as delicately as he could.

"Amazing. WE'RE getting up KINKO's nose for a change!"

Fred picked up the microphone and spoke into it. "Yo Lenny, you there?"

"......... hiss ....... crackle......... Yeah, here Fred. Sorry, I was just in
post-op with the head nurse."

"Which one's the head nurse?"

"The one with the dirty knees." [We all know what that's from don't we??? -LN]

"Um, yeah, well we're ready to come out now. You'll have to dredge some of the
yuck out of his nostrils."

In the macroscopic world, Lensman picked up a glass slide and shoved it up
Masky's nose. Gagging, Lensman deposited the slide in the thing that looked
almost, but not quite like, a car wash gone drastically wrong.

One of the technicians put down his copy of Penthouse, and asked "What's the
expansion factor, Lensman?"

"Ummm, put it on the 'Vagabond's Ego' setting."

The technician tapped a few buttons, and a laser went on in the thing that
looked almost but not quite like, a car wash gone drastically wrong. The laser
pulsed quickly, its energy jarring loose the earlier shrinking effect. When the
Avenger had returned to normal size, Fred and Raphael stepped out.

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

Back in the church, the ceremony was getting back on track.

"Night Stalker", the priest intoned, "if you would now put the ring on Janine's
finger?" 

"No, we'll be doing that tonight in the honeymoon suite."

"Oh, yeah... well I now pronounce you man and wife. We've leave you alone now
to work out who's who..."

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

In his private, panoramic-view hospital room half-way up the offices of Avenger
Oil, Kinko was sitting up in bed with a foot-long cigar in his mouth, placing a
phone call to his newest replacement secretary.

"Look, slut, if that wanker calls again tell him I won't sell for anything less
than three thousand per unit. And I don't care if he DOES have the negatives,
the fucking photos don't fucking show fucking anything! Oh, and slut, my
ratings are falling again, get someone to shoot me again."

T.M. slammed down the phone as the door opened, and Captain Fred and Raphael
walked in.

"Ah, you two, waddaya want?"

Ignoring T.M.'s question, Raphael used a foot-flipper to turn over a corpse on
the floor. "Oh, it's Kylie Minogue", he said.

"Yes", said T.M., "that moronic casting agency should have known better than to
let HER do a guest appearance on MY show! Anyway, what are you here for?"

"Well", began Raphael hesitantly, "we were just wondering about our fee..."

"How much?", asked T.M., suspiciously.

Fred glanced at Raphael, who nodded, and said "We think 2.5 mill apiece is
fair."

"WHAT!", screamed T.M.

"Oh my god!", exclaimed Raphael, "How did he sneak that Colt 45 into the
hospital?" [Diplomatic Immunity??? -LN]

Fred and Raphael slammed the door behind them as the first bullets slammed into
the wood.

"Never mind!", Fred shouted over the gunfire, "while you were still coming out
of the anesthetic we had you put your signiture to a few blank cheques..."

                                 The End
+-----------------------------------------------------------------------------+
We now interupt this file for a brief musical interlude...

       *** NOW AVAILABLE FROM ALL "REALLY RUDE RECORD RETAILERS" ***

The "T.C.R.I. SONG SENDUPS" album, including "WE DIDN'T VOTE FOR LABOUR" by
Fearless Fred. [Sung to the words of "We Didn't Start The Fire" by Billy Joel.
We now include the free lyrics...]

[Of course, the obvious thing has to be said: "This album is specially designed
to sit in the back of your record collection amongst all the old Frank Sinatra
albums, to be taken out and split up when you get divorced."]
...............................................................................

                                -CHORUS-

We didn't vote for labour,
You can dam the Franklin,
You can mine uranium,

We didn't vote for labour,
Screw Keating's policies,
Children live in poverty,

                                --------

Johnnie Howard's voted out,
Russ Hines' honour is in doubt,

Queensland cop corruption claims,
Derryn Hinch reports our drains,

Pollution in the atmosphere,
Consumer taxes on our beer,

Aussie dollar hits new low,
How much further can this go?

Malcolm Fraser's got no pants,
Ruxton's anti-asian rants,

Interest rates hit new high,
Canberra has a russian spy,

Hoddle street is all shot up,
T.A.B. wins Melbourne cup,

AIDS, herpes, gonorrhea,
What else do we have to fear?

                                -CHORUS-

Vic's prisons have got crabs,
Politician's mistress blabs,

BLF have had the axe,
Keating has another tax,

Pilots have all gone on strike,
Interest takes another hike,

Public Transport stops again,
Unions are a bloody pain!

Bond Corp has more debts,
Dolphins dead in fishing nets,

Cain loses cycle race,
Japs build hotel in space,

More bloody bills to pay,
Will I get to work today?

Streakers in the Aussie team,
I think that I am gunna scream!

                                -CHORUS-

Megacom owns all the phones,
People can't afford first homes.

More wierdness on TV,
Ten lets the blood run free.

The Olympic Games won't be here,
Robert Hawke sheds a tear.

Faith healers have the cures,
Mutant turtles roam the sewers.

Skase misses time in court,
VCE might not be taught.

Gardner wins at Phillip Island,
More cheap imports made in Thailand.

Scientists to probe the sun,
Have they got cold fusion?

Trams lurch and jump the tracks,
Vizard reads a viewer fax.

                                 - CHORUS -

Aussie sailor goes AWOL,
More people on the dole.

Denise Drysdale quits Hey Hey,
Docklands project on the way.

Seats thrown from moving trains,
In Sydney it always rains.

Jana interviews Sir Joe,
Thousands flock to Melbourne Show.

The Gulf has our naval fleet,
Casino plan for Collins Street.

Government to scrap one cent,
Bungee-jumping accident.

                                 - CHORUS -

Kirner becomes the premier,
Melbourne uni leakage scare.

Facelift for Melbourne Zoo,
Red Symons gives a "two".

Yuppies sip designer wines,
Motorists pay their higher fines.

Cher prances on the decks,
Maclaine floats to Dimension X.

Street performers make us laugh,
Restaurants underpay their staff.

Keating says it's not his fault,
Elvis seen with Harold Holt.

Jaffas rolling down the aisles,
RATS rip off other files.

Skiers lost in mountain snow.
Will the economy ever grow?

                            - CHORUS (TWICE) -

...............................................................................

And on the flipside you'll hear "SPIN THAT WHEEL" by Raphael Turtle.
[sung to the words on the TMNT soundtrack tape.]
[originally by HI TEK 3]
...............................................................................

Hit them with this car, come on, come on
Come on, drive home from the party.

Fred's here to cause an accident, come on.
Bring that pole back, come on.

Dope, crack, any drug is alright when
Fearless Fred starts to drive.
You will listen to what the kid has to say
'Cause you know he can't drive damn straight, can't wait
Gotta get outta his car before its too late.
And even if he takes that bend
The injuries he causes time won't mend
See once he starts on bacardi and rum
It goes straight up to his head.
His car bounces over your belly and back
Laying on the footpath you'll be dead
It's all up to the individual, his reaction time is terrible
Somehow he just seems to have lead feet
Crunch them gears, engine overheat
For real, legit, you feel it
I'm talkin' about the real deal, the blood will congeal
Yo Fearless, spin that wheel
Spin that wheel
Spin that wheel

I'm a make you feel, yo Fearless
Drive home from the party

He's here to cause an accident, come on
Bring that fence back, come on

Fearless Fred starts to shoot up, scraping a house and hitting a pup
All he longs for's in a six pack
When he stops short he gets hit in the back.
On this trip he drives hopeless, hitting anything you request
Starting from your car to the crashrails, he wipes them out the best
Take it from me it's a must, call the cops so he can get busted
Like he should be done, his B.A.C. is point one

Rev it up, let it spin, flip it over, let it spin
Rev it up, let it spin, flip it over, let it spin

For real, legit, you feel it, the blood's beginning to congeal
He'll make tyres squeal, yo Fearless spin that wheel
Spin that wheel, skids with zeal
Yo Fearless, drive home from the party

He's here to cause an accident, come on
Come on, bring that bin back

Rev it up, let it spin, flip it over, let it spin
Rev it up, let it spin, flip it over, let it spin

For real, legit, you feel it, the blood will begin to congeal
He'll make tyres squeal, yo Fearless spin that wheel

Hyper drugs, anyway, it's all okay when the car starts to sway
Legit you feel it - yo Fearless. Spin that wheel
Spin that wheel
The blood'll congeal
Yo Fearless, drive home from the party

He's here to cause an accident
Come on, Bring that sign back
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
  =====================================================================
   A HELPFUL TIP FOR NEW BBS USERS: Never leave your terminal during a
          conference unless you have adequate Health Insurance!
  =====================================================================

(An extract from the Cafe.....)

(5:LASERBLADE) where's the dj
(5:LASERBLADE) oh dear..
(5:LASERBLADE) we lost him
(2:RAPHAEL TURTLE) Nurse! Ten cc's of adrenilin, NOW!
(4:DIGITAL JUSTICE) bak ppls .. bbak in 10 .. probs bak here
(2:RAPHAEL TURTLE) Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep beep beep beep We've got
                   'im back!
(5:LASERBLADE) huh??
(5:LASERBLADE) does that make any sense?
(2:RAPHAEL TURTLE) To me it does, but I'm just being silly!
(5:LASERBLADE) hahah
(5:LASERBLADE) set up an IV with ringers solution and 10 cc epinepherin
(2:RAPHAEL TURTLE) Jab... poke... jab... shit, where's the bloody vein?
(5:LASERBLADE) no good. we're losing him fast.
(2:RAPHAEL TURTLE) OK, stand clear, let's put 300 joules through his chest...
(5:LASERBLADE) he's going....
(5:LASERBLADE) clear!
(2:RAPHAEL TURTLE) CRACK! Okay, let's start pumping... One - one thousand -
                   Two - one thousand - err, what comes next?
(5:LASERBLADE) hehe
(2:RAPHAEL TURTLE) (Little Flatliners humour there.)
(5:LASERBLADE) administer 10mg bicarbonate direct into the heart
(4:DIGITAL JUSTICE) bak .. err.. what the heck is going on?
(2:RAPHAEL TURTLE) Hey, he's back! A miracle of modern surgery!
(5:LASERBLADE) nice work doctor

QUESTION: Can YOU spot the two people above rapidly heading towards a
          malpractice suite???
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                         ========================
                          This Edition's Quotes!
                         ========================

Gretch In:   It's the 2nd day of spring - time to enjoy those hormones
             jumping around.

Fearless Fred:   I can't be bothered tonight.

Maelstrom:   That sucks.

Wraith:   Hang on, I'm getting dressed...

Oing:   Oooh! <Look of shock>

Boom Boom:   Well I reckon its pwetty wude!

Wraith:   Face the other way please.

Raphael Turtle:   Let me see if I can find it...

Fearless Fred:   Let it all out, you'll feel better in the morning.

Scarlet Pumpernickel:   No more than three shakes though.

Xix:   Did I come into the middle of something?

Metro:   Well I'm gonna leave now and suck my dick till my head
         caves in. [Contortionist... -LN]

Sean Byrne:   All went quiet..... and he came.

Fearless Fred:   The bath is half full.

Ionic Reaction:   ohhhhh please stop!

Ben Richards:   Fucking the Rap channel are we IR???

Oing:   Yeah, the cat loves it!

Trillian:   I've still got a headache.

Bigf00t:   Dancing with myse-helf.

Raphael Turtle: Ohhh errr, that IS kinky!

Buggs Bunny:   ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, I need a dirty girl.

Fearless Fred:   That's a bit kinky, using real people!

Decker:   Yeah, LOVE 'em!

Fearless Fred: I can't!

The Edge:   How's the ring?

The Necromancer:   Have you eaten it yet?

Fearless Fred:   I'm not in the mood tonight.

Fearless Fred:   How long is it?

Sean Byrne:   dunno how long (six inches maybe)

Mystery:   It doesn't work anymore.

Fearless Fred:   But I get so little time to actually play with it.

The Stranger:   Just been told by the doctor I can't get my fingers wet
                for the next 3 weeks... [There goes the foreplay -LN]

Ben Richards:   Who gives a fuck?

Raphael Turtle:   Why, do you want to take one?

Fallen Angel:   well not really unless you happen to be a sexy 24 yr old
                with lotsa money!

The Dag:   I JUST CAN'T GET ENOUGH !!!!!

The Necromancer:   i am not a NECROPHILE!

Ben Richards:   Heeeey. We want some Puuussy!!

Wraith:   I'm eating...

Sean Byrne:   jeez... another quickie.

Mr Death:   Newsflash: RAT has sex with a turtle. What do you get? A Rurtle

Sean Byrne:   It all started with my mum and the rugby team.

Wraith:   I'm sick sick sick!

Decker:   Where r u?

Doc:   In that little alcove on the third floor on the union building...
       you know, the one with 'gaysoc' on the door.

The Stranger:   hmmm... just applying the cream that doc gave me...

Brigette McPherson:   turtles are kinda cute.

Raphael Turtle:   Oh, you want DISCIPLINE, do you!?

Spud:   I think I need it!

Micro Ace:   what's wrong with your little nuts Cef?

Fearless Fred:   I'm just absolutely fucked at the moment.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                     ==============================
                      This Edition's Awards/Logies
                     ==============================

Viscious Rumour of the Month: The Marriage of Fred and Lonni!
[That was a rumor??? -LN]

Inability To Sing Award: ...................... Mouse.
[We're talking fingernails down blackboards here! -Raph]

Murdering Bigf00t Award ....................... Ben Richards. [Now Line Noise]
[See "BIGF00T.DED" in the <R> rated file area on The Cafe -LN]

Anti-American of the Month: ................... Fearless Fred.
[GRRRR!!!!!! -LN]

Log Onto The Cafe And I'll Page You Award: .... Wraith.

Grimlock of the Month: ........................ Code-Blue.

Schizophrenics of the Month: .................. Raphael Turtle and Neuro.

Frog Fetishist of the Month: .................. Ahknaton!
[also gets the award for most original Location -Raph]

Animal Impressionists of the Month: ........... Mouse and Wraith.
[What noises DO snails make anyway!? -Raph]

Most Humourous Locations: ..................... Great White
                                                Doomlord

Hoping To Be A Sysop Award: ................... Ongola.

The Jennifer Keyte Hate Club: ................. Code-Blue
                                                Mouse
                                                Raphael Turtle
                                                Wraith
                                                Neuro

Socialist of the Year: ........................ Von Clauswitz

Losers of 1990: ............................... Crotch Rot and Churchill

Party Dude of the Year: ....................... Ice Breaker
[Guaranteed to sit in a corner & not talk -LN]

The Most Paranoid BBS User .................... The Blue Mustang
        "What did I say to make them leave???"

Amount of Car Crashes Exceeding the Ego Award:. The Mentat.

Late Comer of the Year: ....................... Angel Of Death
                   "I AM NEVER LATE!!!"

Pisspot of all time ........................... Heavenly
"I'm very unpissed at the moment... I type better when I'm pissed"

Worst Driving of 1990 ......................... The Mentat
      "BMW Number 3 written off last month..."

Worst BBS Conferencer ......................... The Vegemite Kid
        "Tie me kangaroo down sport... etc..."

Fish-Head of the Year ......................... Cadet Ace
           "Is this car 'Dolphin Safe???'"

Garden Gnome lookalike ........................ Cef

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                       =======================
                        Errata and Amendments
                       =======================

(from AT14): - The themesong should go "Raphael is cool but rude", rather
               than "crude"

             - Mark Freedman is also head of Mirage Studios.

             - Jim Henson did not design the Turtles suits, but his
               Creature Shop built them.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                        ======================
                         The Evil Angels Team
                        ======================

      At present the Evil Angels consists of the following:

           Editors:    Line Noise
                       Raphael Turtle
                       Fearless Fred (His last time)

           Authors:    Raphael Turtle
                       Fearless Fred

         Thanks To:    Wraith
                       Akhnaton

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                         Anarchistic Tendencies Part XV
                                (C) July, 1991

No part of this file may be published in mass media without the authors
written permission, and half the authors don't know how to write. The other
half are usually drunk, at work or wherever, working on their sex lives, sewer
surfing, etc....

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
                            ============
                             Disclaimer
                            ============

The editors have gone to a hell of a lot of trouble to ensure that this file
contains no offensive material. However, should you find anything which you
object to, STIFF SHIT! You can't sue us! This file is written with the intent
of producing a humourous file which will be enjoyed by everyone, and no offence
is intended towards any person or persons no matter how often or in what
context they or anything to do with them is mentioned.

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

      Evil Angels With Return with..... ooops, force of habit, sorry.

                           Byyyyyeeeeeeeeeee!

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

                                                                     
                        





