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Subject: {ASSM} "Conductor's Log" John A (Fantasy Train, nosex, humor)
Date: Thu, 4 May 2000 18:10:37 -0400
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<1st attachment, "LOG.TXT" begin>
This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real
persons is unintentional and strictly coincidental.
This is intended solely for adults, and any other rebroadcast,
retransmission, and account of this game is strictly prohibited by the
National Hockey League. Wait --The NHL doesn't care --I care. Any
unauthorized redistribution of this is in violation of copyright. I
authorize the reader to make one copy for reading purposes only. I
expressly prohibit posting of this work on anyone's website, including
but not limited to pay-sites, sites with advertising, and any type of
site where a fee is charged. Any other distribution without the author's
permission is strictly prohibited.
DO NOT REPOST
"Fantasy Train Conductor's Log" Copyright (C) 2000 by John A (John3365a@aol.com)
All rights reserved.
------------------------
Author's note: I used the stories from the Fantasy Train
series of stories as well as my own imagination as the basis for
the events which Louie describes here. They are, of course,
fictional. I did this mainly as a way of tying up all of the
stories which were written for the Fantasy Train and
consolidating them into one spot as a sort of synopsis of the
trip. If you have not yet read any of the Fantasy Train stories,
or don't know what it is, go to:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/MariaGonzales/www/fantasy/fantasy-main.html
and read the FAQ, the intro and a few stories. They are very
entertaining. Enjoy.
While searching through the remnants of the Fantasy train, I came upon
the personal logs of the conductor, Louie the Leprechaun. The following
is his reaction to the trip, what he thought of all of the proceedings,
and how he perceived the passengers on board.
--- John A
Fantasy Train Conductor's Log
by Louie the Leprechaun
Day 0
Conductor's log: That damn giant Shon captured me poking around at
his unfinished stories. Well, the rules of faerie say that I have
to grant a wish to anyone who captures me. Now I have to conduct
another one of these fantasy trains. And this one's going to be
filled with a bunch of perverted writers. At least I talked him
out of having all of his wife's Barbies come to life-- that's not
a pleasant sight.
I haven't gotten out all of the semen stains after that actor's
train. Now writers! If there's a group of people with bigger egos
than actors it's writers. And these freaks are porn writers.
Well, on the bright side, I might get lucky....What's this, a
nice bottle o' single malt scotch whisky left as a present from
Shon -- what a nice gesture. Maybe I'll animate one of his wife's
less bitchy Barbies as a present for him when this whole trip is
over -- if these fucking writers don't piss me off too much. I'm
getting too old for this.
Day 1
Conductor's log 10am: So far so good on this trip. No one's
annoyed me too much with their requests -- although I did catch
Homer ripping most of the condom machines off the walls and
throwing them out the windows. Little does he realize that in my
granting of Shon's wish, all people on the train will be returned
in exactly the same condition they boarded in. So no matter how
many women he manages to get pregnant, once they're off the
train, they're back to normal -- well, as normal as any of these
perverts get.
3pm: I just had the first odd request of the trip. A wee lassie
wanted me to change everyone's viewpoint from male to female and
vice-versa. What the hell is that all about? Look at them out
there. Men and women -- confused as all get out. These writers
are strange people. I can't even bear to watch this.
9pm: Not much else happened today. A lot of random sex -- even a
couple of orgies. They all got overjoyed when I told them they
couldn't catch anything or get pregnant. Although I still didn't
have the heart to tell Homer that no one would get pregnant. It's
been one non stop fuck all day -- except for me. Oh well, I still
have my eye on that Amazon woman Virago. What a busty giant.
I haven't even had to bring the train to any location in time
yet. This trip could be easier than I thought if all these people
do is eat and fuck all day. With the automatic food dispensers
I've installed, I don't even have to do anything.
12 midnight: Well, so much for easy. "I want this, I want that."
What a bunch of freakin' whiners. "My compartment's too small, my
bed's too soft, I need a hot tub." I haven't stopped for two
hours. For Lady Cyrrh I needed to install a fountain, sunroof,
nude marble statues, lavish gardens, and a reflecting pool. Miss
Behavin' wanted a whole redesign. Marble flooring, fireplace,
chandelier, grand piano, gilded mirrors, the whole nine yards.
Pami had me redesign her compartment, reinforcing the ceiling and
placing all types of restraint devices in there. Racks, and
chains and whips -- oh my! All manner of stuff I couldn't even
begin to identify. Allison wanted a nice contemporary design
with all sorts of storage space for her underwear.
The rest of them had more modest requests. A slightly larger bed
for MichaelD and all his teenage girls. Fine. An extra closet for
Lambchop and Pooh Bear Twins. Understandable. A hot tub for
Souvie -- poor lassie has motion sickness. A few of them wanted
ESPN, one big breasted lassie wants Univision, and one weirdo
wanted CNBC -- land o' Goshin, this is a fucking vacation, who's
going to watch the Telly? What a strange group of people.
Day 2
Conductor's log 8am: Pami woke me up bright and early because she
said I told her I'd send her back to 1461 London to have a
rendezvous with Edward IV and turn him into a submissive. Is she
in for a surprise. I don't care how young he is, there haven't
been 10 leaders throughout history as confident as him. I should
have mentioned something about that, but it serves her right for
waking me up so early.... Fucking hangover.
10am: John and Allison go to Boston in 1918 so they can have the
pleasure of watching the Boston Red Sox win something called the
World Series -- apparently a rare occurrence. They're going to
try to convince team owner Harry Frazee never to sell some babe
named Ruth to a bunch of yankees. I thought the selling of people
was outlawed in America in the 20th century.
Noon: Michael's fans and characters board the train. Two busty,
nubile teenaged girls follow him around everywhere. Some of his
other characters engage in a couple of the ongoing orgies. Land
o' Goshin I've never seen this many naked teenagers in one place
ever. If that girl Brittany keeps running naked she's going to
put out an eye. Dropped Michael off in the year 1254 -- nothing
elaborate in preparation. Still not a difficult trip, nice and
relaxing. I'm actually starting to like some of these writers.
1pm: So much for that. One of these uppity fucking writers just
came up to me and suggested that if we switched to a monorail,
we'd get a much better ride. I tried to tell him that the train
needs to ride on two rails -- the track has been laid through
time -- and laying time track isn't as easy as you'd think. But
he just said, "Turn this into a monorail, lay some monorail track
-- sure it'll be a hassle, and no one's in favor of it, but
believe me, it'll be well worth the format change. I know it goes
against convention, but forget about that, everyone will like
it." Fucking writers. "I want this, I want that." Although this
is better than that actor's train I conducted. Now those people
had issues.
9pm: Everything going pretty well. Retrieved Michael from 1254,
Pami from 1461, and John and Allison from 1918 without a hitch.
John came back with a shit eating grin and Allison's hair was all
messed up -- must have been caught up in some sort of celebration
or something like that.
10pm: Pami informed me that she left her nipple clips in the
past, and for some reason I can't magically retrieve them. Oh
well, how much harm can nipple clips be, it's not as if she left
something that would really change history, like a vibrator --
that would speed up the women's movement by centuries.
12 midnight: Another nondescript day in the books. Most of these
people are quite content to stay on board all day long and screw
-- which is fine by me -- much less work.
Day 3
Conductor's log 9am: A bunch of them thought it would be fun to
go back to Las Vegas in the 1960s to see Frank Sinatra, Dean
Martin, and Sammy Davis, Jr. play the Sands with Peter Lawford
and Joey Bishop. What an easy trip. Back to the 1960s takes
almost no effort at all. Another easy day for me. Most all of
them left. Just a few remaining on the train and they're fucking
like bunnies already -- these people are amazing, all they do is
fuck and eat, and try to sneak naps in every once in a while. All
except that Souvie lass. Motion sickness. I've got to do
something to get her out of her cabin.
11pm: Retrieved everyone from Vegas. John came back with a lump on
his head from a beer bottle that Frank Sinatra apparently smashed
over it. Fucking smart-ass got what he deserved making wisecracks
about Sinatra. Apparently he got quite a few people kicked out of
the Sands, and no one was really all too happy with him. It looks
like for the first night on this trip, he's going to bed alone.
Serves him right, wise-ass bastard.
Day 4
Conductor's log 11am: This is the last thing I needed. The fucking
Orient Express! Do they know how much energy it takes up to
transform the entire train. It's all that giant Shon's fault.
Convinced Janey to ask for what she wants. I don't need this
shit. I've had it with these people. Especially the Americans,
they're so arrogant. Now I have to create a whole mystery for
their amusement.
Day 5
Conductor's log 9am: Virago, Maria, Shon, and John get dropped
off in the old west. Denny does also, but in a slightly different
location -- looking for someone called the "Fuken Whore"
Noon: Got to do something about that lass Souvie, holed up in
her room sick. Some people just can't stomach their time travel.
That dumb Viking likes a wager every now and then, maybe I can
make some money off of that giant, and get the shy lassie out of
her compartment.
3pm: Verywierd comes aboard and requested a trip to some brothel
in China. I don't really feel like going back. Instead, I'm just
going to take us into a Kung-Fu film. He'll never be able to tell
the difference. I need a drink.
4:30pm: I guess Verywierd figured it out and he was real pissed at
me, so I had to poof him away. He'll not threaten me....I'm
getting too old for this shit, where's my scotch? I need to
seriously consider retiring.
7pm: We retrieved the five of them from the old west -- nothing
else eventful happened today except for a little battle between
some of the writers and their characters. I don't know what
happened though. I slept through it.
9pm: I can't believe the wee shy lassie actually was able to make
Rorik hard -- several times! I thought she'd be much too timid to
do anything. 100 gold coins. I'm supposed to gather in gold
coins, not lose them in wagers with big fucking stupid Vikings.
10pm: Another orgy is under way, and again I'm not invited.
Bastards. More like five or so little threesomes and foursomes
than one big orgy. Look at Allison and Maria go at it -- what a
Leprechaun sandwich they'd make. How many times do Maria and
Allison have to have sex with women before they're willing to
admit they're bisexual?
Day 6
Conductor's log 11am: Orgies lasted well into the night, some
people are still asleep. The ones awake are trying to shake
hangovers. They've all decided a nice long ride back to ancient
Sodom and Gommorah for a little sodomy and gomorrahy -- is that
even a word? Like this is just what they need. They aren't
depraved enough, they have to go back to the birthplace of anal
sex. Freakin' perverts.
1pm: Shit! Shit! Shit! I was trying to make up a little time on
our trip to Sodom and Gomorrah and I attempted to open up a
little rift through space to shave a couple of hours off the
journey. Well apparently it didn't work and sent us somewhere in
the future, transforming the train into some sort of a space ship
in the process. Now I'm trapped in what looks like an engine and
I'm powerless to do anything to help. If these moron writers
don't figure out some way of steering us through the other end of
the rift, I think we'll be stuck here in the future. Why didn't I
just animate all of those Barbies like that giant wanted me to in
the first place?
4pm: I'm still stuck in this engine and all I can tell is that
these people don't know who they are. It seems that the only
people who know who seem to know their true identities are Miss
Behavin, Shon, and John A. Lord help us.
8pm: Finally, someone figured out how to get through the rift,
and everything is back to normal...For now anyway. They've
decided against Sodom and Gomorrah. Everyone seems to be settling
in for a nice dinner and drinks. I think they've actually fucked
themselves out. Now where is that Virago?
Day 7
Conductor's log 10am: Virago wants to go back to 1066 to join the
Norman invaders and William the Conqueror in battle at the Battle
of Hastings. I would just as soon not go back that far in the
past. These engines have been acting up a little, but I just
can't resist that big breasted blonde giantess.
She tried to get some of the others to join her, but most of
these pantywaists wouldn't know one end of a sword from another.
3pm: Pulled into Reading station to pick up that Bronwen lassie.
Naked as a jaybird, asking to be in the center of a circle jerk.
Looks like this Irishman's going to get to wank all over a Brit
-- how's that for irony?
5pm: Dropped off a lassie back to 1975 Cambridge, Massachusetts,
to try to influence some little guy who's going to make a ton o'
money. Good Luck, I hear he's still a virgin in 1975.
11pm: We retrieved Virago from 1066 and she boards the train
bruised and bloody and bursting with energy. What a woman. She
has a lusty hungry look. Maybe I'll get lucky tonight.
Day 8
Conductor's log 9am: Just pulled into Darlington station to pick
up another English lassie -- this one Vickie. She looks haggard
and tired, just the one to help get rid of the Americans. It'll
be a little more difficult getting rid of the Europeans, but that
will come soon enough.
10am: John, Jimmy Hat, Lambchop, Denny, and MichaelD want to go on
a quest for an ancient artifact. Pami wanted a similar quick
adventure. I dropped them all in 950 BC in the Arabian desert
near the kingdom of Sheba. I was glad to get rid of them. That
will be fewer people around when that English lassie will help me
get rid of Christopher Columbus. I figured I'd just drop Pami
near the caravan of the men. They weren't going to recognize each
other with the thick veils covering their faces, anyway. This way
I only had to travel to one location in time. There really wasn't
a danger of her being stranded, anyway. Those guys aren't going
to leave a pretty girl like that all alone in the desert --
especially one with tits like Pami.
11am: The Yorkshire lassie is tired and cranky and not a little
miffed at the Americans, she's going to be perfect for my plan.
12pm: Just blew the Faerie Dust into her face. Normally it doesn't
work all that well, but she's in the perfect mood for suggestion.
In a matter of minutes, Columbus will turn back and these
Americans will cease to exist. Then I can work on the Europeans.
2:30pm: Of all my luck. I had to pick a sex story writer who's a
prude. She won't sleep with Columbus, now I have to try to
pretend to be her and do it myself. And I have to rely on her
getting me back. Saints preserve us.
4:00pm: Damn, damn, damn, damn. That tall one, with the blonde
hair, and the short feisty Mexican convinced her that was she was
doing was wrong, now Columbus is heading back toward America. Why
don't I ever get my own way? Oh well, less than a week and it's
retirement in Miami Beach for me, or maybe Nice -- although the
French annoy me more than the Americans.
Day 9
Conductor's log 8am: Can't anyone let me sleep late? All of these
requests for special treatment are driving me bats. Special
compartments, special amenities. I want this. I want that. Bitch,
bitch, bitch, bitch, bitch. One weirdo wanted a freakin' zoo in
his compartment. Screw them. I'm separating them into small
groups and turning all of their coaches into basic
transportation. No frills. I never promised Shon that they had to
travel in time in luxury.
These fucking writers need to be put in their place. Always
making short jokes, or Irish jokes, or short Irish jokes --
this'll teach them for a while. "How are your Lucky charms today,
Louie?" or "Hey, is it true that you're magically delicious?"
Bunch o' pricks.
That feisty Mexican is the only one who doesn't make short
jokes....Of course, she's only barely bigger than me.
10am: I showed them. I made it seem as if everyone else had a
better compartment -- when they actually all have the same
quality shitty quarters. I can't wait to drop the lot o' them off
in Rome. Let 'em get drunk and participate in an orgy at the
emperor's palace.
11am: Ten minutes ago we just had a major problem. All the cars
seem to have derailed. It looks like a small temporal rift opened
up on the rail. Bloody Hell. How long is this going to take to
fix? I promised that giant Shon that no on would get hurt -- I
could just leave all of them where they are, screw the giant. But
a leprechaun can't break his promise, damn.
Let's see if I can figure out where everyone went -- some of
these machines seem to be working ok. Let's see, the first car is
in 1215 in Mongolia. I hope I can get to them before Khan kills
them all -- maybe Anne, Bronwen and Kristen will be able to
seduce the great Genghis Khan before he decides to kill Uther and
Greybeard.
The next car derailed in 1350 Aragon -- shit, the plague. Who's
there? Pami, See-el, Shon, Daphne, Mat, and a couple of others. I
hope those folks have had their shots. Although it would serve
Shon right for having gotten me into this mess.
What does that dial say, 1415, Oct. 25 -- why does that seem so
familiar? Och, Agincourt. That was a bloody day. I hope they
survive -- well, actually I don't give a damn. Who's on that
train? Lambchop, PoohBearTwins, Prufrock, Inkubus, John George
and some others. Good luck. I need to get my little green ass in
gear if I'm going to save any o' them.
The next car is 1536 Canada. That should be relatively harmless,
only Cartier's explorations. That should be easy for Hecate,
Homer, Janey, Jimmy Hat, Michael, Kivi, and Vickie. They're in no
danger of dying, and it'll give Janey a chance to use her French.
The next car is in 1692 Salem in America -- och, the witch
trials, not a good place for smut writers to be. Let's see,
Maria, Allison, Virago, Wijit, and John are on that car. Ah, to
be stranded with the giantess...
The next car is in France in 1714. The reign of Louis XIV, the
sun king. I don't see how anyone could be in danger there. Unless
they pretend to be peasants. Who's in that car? Denny, Souvie,
Katie, Generic Joe. Let's hope Katie doesn't piss off any of the
nobility -- that lassie can just shoot her mouth off without
thinking.
The last two cars were just filled with characters and fans, I
didn't make any promise to Shon for keeping any of them safe.
It'll be a while before I get back to them -- although there are
a lot of pretty young nubiles in those cars, and for the most
part they're much less annoying than the writers.
3pm: Still attempting to get back on the tracks so I can head back
in time to retrieve the rest of them. I've figured out what to
do, I'm just not sure if I'll be able to do it. Like I give a
damn...maybe I should take a nap.
5pm: Finally, I'm back on the rails. I'm not sure how long the
whole collection process is going to take, but I imagine it's
going to keep me busy all night
8pm: Forward to 1215, Mongolia. Uther, Greybeard, Anne, Bronwen,
and Kristen seem to be none the worse for wear as they board the
train. They each give me a dirty look as they pass me. That
wasn't so bad. If the rest of them are that nice about it, this
might not be so bad.
11:30pm: Forward to 1350 Aragon. Apparently they all had just been
stuck in the woods, and had no contact with the locals. Every
freakin' one of had to make a short joke. I hate these people.
Day 10
Conductor's log 3:30am: Forward to 1415, Agincourt. They were
thrown near the battlefield. There was a bloody mass o' bodies in
the distance. It took a while to find the lot o' them. They were
all holed up in a cave, protecting themselves from the battle.
That's what they said anyway -- after the requisite lucky charms
jokes.
7:10am: Shit! I took a little longer nap than I wanted to. I have
to hurry up with the damn recovery. Next stop 1536 Canada.
Apparently they were stuck in the wilderness all night. The rest
of them were furious but Janey was so pleasant to me when they
returned -- it wasn't until a little while later that I realized
that she was insulting me.
10:35am: Salem, Massachusetts 1692. Another group none too pleased
with this little mishap. I had half a mind to leave that smartass
behind, but that damn promise made to Shon keeps getting in the
way. Only one more stop: France 1714. Screw the character cars,
this is becoming a pain in the ass.
2:40pm: Versailles, France, 1714. This group was actually pissed
at me for picking them up. Apparently they were mistaken for
visiting nobility and shown the hospitality of the king. I can't
make anyone happy. Well, less than a week left for this trip.
After all this work, I gotta go and take a piss.
3:10pm: After much argument, Maria convinced me to let her go
back eleven years to visit herself as a teenager. I usually don't
allow things like that to happen, but I just can't resist doing
anything when I'm looking into Maria's big brown breasts -- I
mean eyes. Plus, she's been the only one not making any short
jokes. I did only give her an hour, so she needs to hurry.
4:25pm:Picked up Maria. She's going on and on about how she was
able to change things and how she's getting a flush of memories
that she never had before. Apparently she was able to convince
her younger self not to be as innocent.
8pm: We made it back to Rome in the year 40 AD. A big party at
the emperor's palace. Nearly everyone got off the train. I
decided to go too. I'm in as much need for some drunken
debauchery as anyone.
Caligula hosed a dinner served by the most gorgeous naked women
and most well endowed men that I've even seen. Most everyone
seemed to panic when he ordered some butter, but all he did was
spread it on his bread. Pretty soon, the whole meal just turned
into one big orgy of eating and drinking. Several of us happened
to notice Hecate and Katie slip away into the chambers of the
vestal virgins.
Och, the men were jealous of them.
Day 11
Conductor's log 9:00am: John and Denny woke up, still drunk from
Caligula's potent wine. They started out the day with another
bottle and were so drunk they decided that they were going to go
to the 1960s and take the place of two members of something
called "The Mamas and the Papas." Stupid bastards. I can't wait
to see how this turns out.
11:35am: Most everyone had found themselves a beautiful servant
to spend the evening with and are now scrambling back to the
train looking like shit. Enough of Caligula's private stash of
wine had been drunk to kill all of these people four times over.
Jimmy Hat and Shon had brought back several bottles for the rest
of the trip. I hope these people realize that the reason Caligula
went mad was because he drank his own wine -- that stuff is
lethal.
1:30pm: John and Denny came back to the train complaining about
being beaten up by a roadie and a big woman named Cass. They were
a little more sober and realized they weren't John Phillips and
Denny Doherty. Stupid bastards. John, I can understand doing
something so daft, he's a writer, the whole lot o' them are a
little tetched to begin with, but Wheeler's a fucking editor.
It's his job to prevent stupid mistakes from happening, not
participate in them.
3:15pm: Jimmy Hat finally just woke up and realized last night he
agreed to a scavanger hunt with Shon, with Janey as the grand
prize. Boy oh boy, was she wasted to agree to that. Without
anyone knowing, I signed the contract too, and am in competition
with the giant and that Jimmy, who's more than likely going to
sleep the day away. I'm going to win this contest and the fair
Janey. That'll teach that giant to fuck with a wee person.
9pm: Several short trips to the past were made with no problems
at all. Most of the people were content to hang around the pool
and shake their hangovers. That was fine with me, as I've managed
to get many of the items in the scavenger hunt. Just a few more
hours and the fair Janey is mine.
10:30pm: Virago was on the prowl looking feral -- wild and
untamed and naked as the day is long. Found that Wijit boyo
passed out in a chair and started going down on him. On her hands
and knees, exposed to the world, she was just too tempting to
resist. Right after she finished off the Canadian, I plunged from
behind into the busty giantess. Oh my word, I'm going to sleep
well tonight.
11:20pm: Making a trip back to Salem in 1692. John went back
to visit some girl named Samantha. Took 3 dozen roses with him.
These fucking writers are all a bunch o' pansies. Maria, Allison,
and Virago all decided to join him again to visit someone named
Tabitha. They were all surprised that Wijit didn't go too, but he
mumbled something about getting more head on the train than he
knew what to do with. They had to be dropped off during the
middle of the night because they're apparently wanted by the
local authorities.
Day 12
Conductor's log 8:00am: I'm about to head to Janey's compartment
to claim my prize. Won't those two smug bastards, Jimmy and Shon
be surprized when I'm the winner.
10:00am: Fucking-bastard-giant-Shon-cock-sucking-asshole.
Captured me just as I was about to claim the fair lassie, Janey.
His wish was to be the hunt winner. What about my wishes, what
about my needs? I hate them all. Only two days left of this
fucking train and I'm going to retire. Magically produce a deed
to a beachfront condo in Miami Beach and relax in the warmth. No
more raibows, no more pots o' gold, and especially no more
Fantasy trains.
11:00am: Jimmy seems sufficiently sobered up that he's dying
for another adventure. Wants to go to Galilee to witness Salome's
dance of the seven veils at Herod's estate. My word, what these
people don't think of. We'll be arriving back in Galilee in two
hours -- just long enough for me to take a nap.
1:00pm: Jimmy, Shon, Homer, and Denny all exit the train in
Galilee. I have to keep my eyes open. Those four are just begging
to get into trouble. I might need to send someone back there to
get them out in a hurry.
7pm: Most everyone else stayed on board relaxing. I think they've
finally partied and fucked themselves out. Most of the day they
were just hanging around talking quietly amongst themselves.
Quite a change from the first couple of days when the train was
just one non-stop screw.
9pm: Retrieved John, Maria, Allison, and Virago from Salem with
nary a problem. Apparently there were search parties looking for
them and they had to stay out of sight. Still, they all seemed to
be smiling when they returned.
11:15pm: Had to send Pami back to rescue the Fantastic Four
before Herod's guards decided to turn their heads into hors
d'oeuvres for his next party.
Day 13
Conductor's log 8:00am: Now Homer wants to go all over creation.
Just as things were starting to wind down. Couldn't he have done
this last week? London 1390 to see Chaucer, 1595 to meet
Shakespeare, Spain 1610 for Cervantes, Zurich for Wagner --
sorry, Vagner -- in 1857, and 1890 to see Proust in France,
finally stopping in 1955 Peru to see Mario Vargas Llosa, whom
Homer claims to be a distant relative. Hah! And what for? All so
he can get Miss Behavin', Bronwen, Allison, Virago, Maria, and
Janey pregnant. Wait until he finds out that I'm not going to let
*him* get anyone pregnant. That'll teach him.
10pm: Finally everything back to normal. None of the women are
pregnant and Homer is furious. Now only one day left and all of
these people will be off this train and I can blow the whole
thing up to kingdom come.
Day 14
Conductor's log 9:00am: Everyone seems to be bustling about,
packing, spending time with friends old and new. If I didn't
despise all of these people, I'd be touched.
But I *do* despise them all. Well, I'll get my revenge. All of the
"greeters" are in place. I've told all of these writers that the
"greeters" will be at each station to help facilitate making
connections. They were all overjoyed, finally being nice to me.
Screw them. They don't suspect a thing.
11am: Passengers start to disembark. Starting in Australia before
we head for Asia and Europe before ending with the Americas. The
Brits were pleased with the "greeters" helping them make their
connections. It's only a matter of time now.
2pm: Starting on the east coast of America, we're getting rid of
people at rapid rate. Only a few more hours left and they'll all
be gone.
3:30pm: Approaching Los Angeles, to drop off the last of the
writers. But not before I tell them that the greeters are really
people who run pay story sites and aren't going to help any of
the writers make connections. Instead, they're going to kidnap
the writers, steal their stories, strip their headers, and make
money off of them. <laughing maniacally> Now I get my revenge.
3:45pm: The remaining people on board get removed forcibly,
kicking and screaming, by their "greeter," Storygirl, the most
pernicious of all of the story thieves. <laughing yet again>.
Now that those writers are out of my life forever, I can point
this train toward Miami Beach for a well deserved retirement.
4pm: While getting most of my personal effects together, I noticed
that one of my bags of faerie dust is missing, probably stolen by
one of those writers. Faerie dust in the hands of a mortal can be
dangerous...TO ME. Just when I thought I had gotten rid of them
forever, this happens. Now whoever stole the dust will use it to
free all of the writers...and it doesn't take a genius to figure
out where they'll head next. So much for Miami Beach, I'll have
to change the deed. That's the first place they'll look. Well,
Hawaii is nice. Monaco. Maybe even the Canary Islands.
It doesn't really matter, as long as I can buy a good single-malt
Glenmorangie. My word, I can send a train back 2000 years in
time, but I can't magically produce a good single malt Scotch
whisky.
Well, that's it. I need to find someplace out of the way and then
destroy the Train and leave no trace of it through time. If I
travel rapidly to a lot of different locations through time,
that'll obscure any route that I take. Perhaps after a while,
they'll lose interest in hunting for a wee person, and I can live
out my last couple of centuries in peace.
Two months later. Bali, Indonesia: I think they've found me
again. I could sense the use of my faerie dust nearby. Time to
pack up and run. Next stop Papeete. All of this moving around is
making me weary. I'd just give up if it wouldn't give all of them
such satisfaction -- that, and all of these dark skinned island
girls that I get to see in my travels. Still, this is tiring and
just about anything has to be better than running.
Och, there they are -- so quickly. No time to do anything but
poof out of here -- and give them the finger.
Fucking writers.
END
If you liked it, send me a note. Thanks.
Send your feedback to John3365a@aol.com or John3365a@yahoo.com.
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"Fantasy Train Conductor's Log"
Copyright (C) 2000 by John A (John3365A@aol.com)
All rights reserved.
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