JUST A PIECE OF MY ABSURD MIND by Stefan Posthuma
The following text is just there for the sake of absurdity. It
has no rational purpose or whatsoever and it has no story to
interest those who read this. Maybe it is just there to emphasize
the fact that this issue of ST NEWS is dedicated to the master of
absurd humor, Douglas Adams.
Not recommended for unemployed hairdressers.
The blender in the back of the ship started sputtering and
choking on the large green vegetable that it tried to process.
Ford noticed the noises behind his back and was clearly annoyed.
'Shit! I never should have trusted that croocked cucumber-dealer
back on Tarinius VI' The battered and rusty looking spaceship
started emitting a stream of greenish vegetable pulp, and
attracted a fleet of interplanetary space raccoons which clinged
to the hull, trying to catch the pieces of assorted vegetable
that came from the large exhaust.
'Damn those little buggers!' Ford yelled when he saw a large
drooling face of a racoon peering into the cramped cockpit. The
ship started swaying, and Ford hit the controls. The blender
started to make extremely unhappy noises and the ship made very
uncontrollable movements, occasionally managing to hurtle a
bloated raccoon into space. When all the raccoons were gone, Ford
stopped the ship and tried to repair the over-heated blender.
After some useless tries, he turned his chair back to the
controls, muttering to himself. He called up a local planetary
map on the head-up Tri-D screen and came to the conclusion that
he was close to the planet HairBag, named after a famous brand of
female Hrugmus underwear. He selected general info, and the
energetic voice of Columbus, the navigatory computer came alive:
'You just picked the greatest place to be in the Universe! The
planet HairBag, is a most interesting place indeed! Its
inhabitants, mostly unemployed hairdressers and movie directors,
are fabled for their love of mud-tennis and the planet is famous
for its swamps that are great for Bring Your Own Brown-paper-bag
parties. It has two Space Ports, and I'll personally take you to
the closest, since your blender is giving you trouble again. They
also have a Magna Industries Customer service & Insurance
department so you can get the blender replaced. By the way, do
you know that I just discovered the relation between Large Scale
Integration and Electronic Shaving?' Ford frowned for a second
and told Columbus to stop driveling and get him to the Space
After a short journey, only to be interrupted by a mid-space
collision with an Arcturian floating Megapumpkin which covered
Ford's ship with a thick mass of seeds and pumpkin pulp, Ford
arrived at the Space Port.
"You know that your ship smells like an floating Megapumpkin?",
said the bug-like creature that attended his ship.
"Tell me about it". Ford followed the large flashing signs to
the insurance office, carrying the large and somewhat damaged
blender. After convincing the bodyguard of the Carrionian Carrot
(son of the famous rabbit hunter) that the blender was in fact an
interstellar drive and not a weapon to reduce the Royal
Orangeness to a pile of carrot chips, he was allowed to enter the
waiting hall of the insurance office. Unlike other days, the hall
was quite empty. The only ones present were some weird
characters, not fitting in a story like this. There was a senile-
looking old man wearing a ragged, torn cloak and a stained, white
beard. He was continuously pulling rabbits out of a shabby
pointed hat, which were immediately devoured by two strange
looking dwarves with large amounts of hair on their feet. There
was also a man who was acting a little paranoid, looking around
himself, fingering his hearing-aid. To complete this party, there
was a tall, slim humanoid whose head was very bald except for
some rags of blond, straw like hear. He was continuously arguing
with a very sturdy, small dwarf with a greasy beard who was
carrying a plastic toy-axe.
Apart from the noises coming from these strange people, the
silence was frequently disturbed by the muffled explosions coming
from the adjacent room which was separated from the waiting room
by a large wall of plex-o-glass. It seemed to Ford that a couple
of scientist were blowing up ant-hills to study the effects of
nuclear holocaust on small planets. Suddenly, the man with the
hearing aid dragged himself from his relaxa-seat and walked over
to Ford and sat down next to him.
'Hi!' said Ford.
'I am Araborn, future king of Yondor' said the man in a low
voice. 'Can you believe that I have laid my entire kingdom in the
hands of two deranged, incompetent Hoblits?'. Ford was a little
puzzled by this confession and wished that the man would leave
him alone. Suddenly, the man started shouting.
'I am Araborn! My kingdom awaits me!!' To emphasize these words,
he drew a candlestick, lighted the candle and started waving it
above his head. Ford, not prepared for such an outburst,
concluded that is was time to leave and entered the insurance
office, ignoring the 'out to lunch' sign. Once inside, he kicked
out a dwarf with large amounts of hair on his feet who was
complaining about a Ring that he lost. The man behind the desk
looked a little disturbed, but soon started smiling when he saw
that the dwarf joined the strange company and they all left.
'What can I do for you sir?', said the man, looking suspiciously
at the blender Ford put on his bureau.
'This thing is broken, and I need a new one,' said Ford.
The man examined the blender and put it back with a sigh.
'Yes, the O-R3 model. We have had more complaints about it. I
will replace it for you without any charge, how does that sound
Ford, suprised by this sudden display of service did not know
what to say.
'Do you like a drink?', the man asked.
'Yes, some Spirios would be fine.'
The man pushed a little button on his desk and the desk started
groaning. 'Aaaahhh, that was good.' said a sensual female voice.
'Please stick your ...' the man quickly pushed another button
with a very embarrassed look on his face. Ford ignored it and
soon after, the door slid open. A human-looking, golden robot
entered the room, escorted by a small robot on wheels who got
stuck on the doorstep and started emitting a loud stream of
'Ah, shut up R3-D3', said the golden robot in a metallic voice.
'Your drink, sir'. He handed for a little glass filled with a
yellow, steaming fluid. The robot turned around, helped his
companion of the doorstep and disappeared into the hallway. Ford
poored the liquor down his throat and looked at the man
expectantly. He was going through a couple of files, put them
down and told Ford to hold on for a second. He dissapeared
through a door and a moment later, he returned holding a blender.
'Here you are sir, a brand new blender. With compliments of the
entire staff of the Magna Industries'. Ford took the blender, and
left the office. Back in the waiting hall, he saw two humanoids,
one clad in a black robe breathing heavily, and another who
looked vaguely familiar. They were threatening each other with
two brightly coloured neon-tubes, jumping around and making
complete fools of each other.
Earth is a remarkable place. It is a funny, small planet orbiting
a regular star called Sol. What makes it so special are its
inhabitants. The major lifeform on Earth is a creature that
crawled out of the ocean, fooled around in trees for a while
until they got the crazy idea to start walking erect. From that
moment on, they developed a deranged kind of intelligence.
In fact, they have reached a kind of sub-intelligence that is
unique in the Universe. Scientists of many worlds have studied
the Earth for many years now and they are still baffled by the
irrational behaviour of the Earthlings. Now because the
inhabitants of the planet Earth are doing very dangerous
experiments with Nuclear Power, the entire Sol solar system has
been declared a Banned Area, only to be entered by highly
classified exam-o-drones. The Ban will be lifted as soon as the
Earthlings will reach a satifactory level of intelligence.
This will be in about 3,000 years.
The text of the articles is identical to the originals like they appeared in old ST NEWS issues. Please take into consideration that the author(s) was (were) a lot younger and less responsible back then. So bad jokes, bad English, youthful arrogance, insults, bravura, over-crediting and tastelessness should be taken with at least a grain of salt. Any contact and/or payment information, as well as deadlines/release dates of any kind should be regarded as outdated. Due to the fact that these pages are not actually contained in an Atari executable here, references to scroll texts, featured demo screens and hidden articles may also be irrelevant.