Xangles  >  Blorkk  >  AREA 51  >  Depth 5(0)

depth 5(0)

   :Oh, shit.
    :What is it, Tit?
    :Oh, shit.
    :Tit, come on, what's up?
    :Dude!  The frwoa recorder is running! you can't !@#$ing curse like that!
    :I was prepping our ids:x:b:a51 depth 5 for our insertions and I hit a wrong key.
    :K, what key?
    :Then 0.
    :K,0?  OK.
    :OK, so then what did you enter?
    :Then I hit enter.
    :Tag?  You OK?
    :Is this an April Fools joke?
    :March Fools joke?
    :Marsh Fools joke?
    :Marshian Fools joke?
    :No no no no no.  I really actually hit K, 0, then enter.
    :Wait, where's the "then" key?
    :This is serious.  I actually hit K, 0, enter.
    :Do you realize there are 603 billion comedy frwoas about this situation in our ku alone?
    :And that when I say 603 billion, I literally mean, there are 603 BILLION comedy frwoas about this situation, not just that there are a whole big bunch of them?
    :And do you realize that every single one is fictional?  Not one is a real life documentary.  Do you realize that?
    :Do you know why that is?
    :I'll tell you why that is.  Because each and every one is a hypothetical situation.
    :They've searched over 14 entire kus looking for a real life instance of anyone, anywhere, in all the known univi in all the known existences in all of Being, dumb enough to ACTUALLY MULTIPLY A FRWOA DEPTH BY A FACTOR OF TEN JUST BEFORE A KEY DEPTH INSERTION.
    :And you did it, Tit.
    :We're really about to be blinked into the FIFTIETH AREA 51 DEPTH, and NOT THE FIFTH?
    :I think we've established that.
    :The penultimate depth?
    :The one that results when you LEAP somewhere in the dead middle of the other 47 frwoa depths of the full 51 after the first four, bypassing every single bit of dialogue necessary for anything in the universe to ever make sense again to anyone who reads a single word of the xangles area 51 blorkk.com skits after the last line of the fourth?
    :I think we're really progressing somewhere logically.
    :Are you sure about this?
    :Like, very, very, very, very sure?
    :Ok, don't panic.  We just have to... wait, was Orbo plugged in?
    :He doesn't plug in.  He's an orb.
    :Oh, how could I forget?
    :I really don't know.
    :Perhaps I'm hallucinating.  Maybe it has something to do with knowing the only known guy anybody knows of in all the kus in all existence in all of being to actually multiply a frwoa depth by a factor of 10 just before a key depth insertion.
    :I shall go down as the infamous "Okgakoiatkiaeiaobtamafdbafo1jbakdi".
    :Hit F1.
    :Frangles 1?
    :No help.
    :Now our night goggles are on.
    :F3? F4? F5?
    :Hold on... uh, F3 imploded oblivion, F4 imploded F3, and F5 just spat out some nonsense code about some ostrich in Nonbeing that once faced the dilemma of writers block of writing a frwoa about someone actually in this situation.
    :Wait, you're hitting the Xs, not the Fs.  You just fucked up all the Xangles sagas.
    :I am in deeeep shit today, Tag.
    :There's no F6 Key for some reason.
    :No X6 either.
    :That's what I was trying to hit just before I hit K0.  I really don't think I should aim for either again.
    :B5?  Scroll Lock?  Ctrl-Alt-Del???
    :B5 teleported Babylon 4 to the center of Frangles Nucleus.  Scroll lock tagged the last few screens of our conversation onto Blorkk.com.  Ctrl-Alt-Del just brought up Obro's task manager.
    :OK, OK, don't panic.
    :Got it.  Don't panic, and don't quote Hitchhikers.
    :Alright, let's follow the manual.  What's the first K0 override protocol?
    Alright, let's do this by the book.  Nyles, what's our first contact protocol?
    .Alright, Orbo, let's test this depth color.  We're the fourth frwoa xangle in, assuming we started counting four depths ago.  Does this look like a good font color for a fourth frwoa depth?
    .A little dark, but I guess there's no perfect way to do it.
    We haven't developed a first contact protocol, we've never encountered aliens before.

    :We haven't developed a K0 override protocol, I've never mishit B4 before
    Well when the hell are we supposed to develop it, after the first encounter?
    :When the hell does Blink get out of his depth 15 first contact mission?
    :You think Blink can just pull a K050 patch procedure out of his ass?  Right after a stressful brain mangling diplomatic mission that usually leaves him locked in his room smashing his pongboard against his head until either it's time for his next race, or he falls unconscious of a first degree concussion?
    Well, actually, yes, the point of a first contact protocol is to encounter aliens enough times where you've developed a standard procedure when you meet a new race.  What we need here is a first first contact protocol.
    :You're right.  Blink won't have a !@#$ing clue.
    :I think we need another help file.   
    :Start logging in on the dial-up.  It's like U dot one I think...
    .Do you like this dot at the start of each dialogue?  I think it helps separate one xangle from another.
    .I really don't care Pik.  Let's just get this  over with.
    :Are you connected?  Did you find it?
    Yes!  A first first contact protocol!... Beep, Lindsy, run a search see if anyone's written a first first contact protocol, beep.
    A first first contact protocol?  Beep.
    Yes, a first first contact protocol.  Surely some Roswell nut scribbled something on a napkin and mailed it to the pentagon.  Beep.
    :No, it's still searching...  I think we should call Protak... or Beep.
    :It might have given up.  Re-run the search, and set it for indefinite timeout.  Anyway, 
Protak's on Florbb.  Beep's actually on a date with another bot orb.
    Pst, Bob, why are they actually saying--
    :Pff, you mean he's actually dating??  Who is it?
    Don't ask.
    :Don't ask.
    .Wait, the second depth are the Bobs?  I thought D2 was the flurth frwoa.
    :Alright, I'm patched in, right under D4.  It's... Holy !@#$ it's Pik and Orbo!!
    .I don't know, maybe it should be a semicolon instead of a period, it's still kinda dark.
    :Pik!  Over here!  Above you!
    .Are you listening to me?  Pik?...  Pik??... Lindsy?...
    :He can't hear you.  We'll have to blink them up to our level.
    :The tekimoka is running low.  We can only pick one of them to blink up.
    :Well then, pick Pik, Tit.  Since a copy of Orbo is already here with us, it would probably rupture local IDS more than humanly or borbably fathomable to transport a mirror of him.  Be careful or you could frack up a frwoa medium engine somewhere.
    :K, here goes.  K...
    :Do... NOT... hit... 0.
    :OK, here we go.
    :pzztzz    :Well?    :Uh.    :Tit?    :Uhhhh.    :TIT!!    :Uhhhhhhh.    :What is it?    :You're not gonna believe this.    :..?..?    :I hit the correct key.    :Gods of Florbb.    :Touche, Tag.    :So why isn't Pik here?    :The teleport ray takes a minute to warm up and I--- Captain Hammer threw a car at my head.    :What??    :It's a quote.  Sorry, I lied, yah, I hit the wrong key.  I bookmarked DrHorrible.com for some reason, and probably screwed up the formatting on a couple billion Earth skit-prose frwoas.    :!@#$*%$&@#&$    :That's not helping.    :I think we should call Lindsy.    :The android secretary??    :...Or Protak.    :The orb who's name was coined just a minute ago by a local xiter intern for the sole purpose of creating a phonetic similarity with the phrase "Contact Protocol?"    :Or Blink.  Or Beep.    :We don't even have their paging numbers.    :No, I meant, we should blink, or beep.    :But we're not bots.    :We can still blink.    :Touche.    :...Or Orbo.      :But Orbo's here.    :You did it!?    :No, our Orbo.    :shitshitshit.    :yes.    :OH!  Here!  Sorry, there's a key specifically designed to warp Pik foreward a frwoa depth in case of an infinitesimally rare K0Ed50 malfunction.    :Just one?  Well how does that help?  Look for a--    :Okay, here, I just have to--    :NO DON'T!
    :Gods of Zeroa and Plush Prime Priests haste us through this maze of waste....
    :Why are you praying?
    :You tell me, Tit.  why might I be praying about now.
    :You're an atheist, Tag.  I really have no clue.
    :Tit, take a guess.
    :No idea.
    :No idea?
    :Think reeeeally hard now.
    :No idea.  Tag, Just tell me.
    :Tell you?
    :Yah, why are you praying?
    :I'm praying.
    :BECAUSE the only known guy anybody knows of in all the kus in all existence in all of being to actually multiply a frwoa depth by a factor of 10 just before a key depth insertion JUST WASTED OUR BLINK FUEL TELEPORTING THE ONLY BOT ORB THAT COULD HAVE POSSIBLY HELPED US STRAIGHT INTO THE ONLY FRWOA DEPTH WHERE WE WOULDN'T EVEN NEED HIM IF YOU HAD JUST BLINKED US DIRECTLY THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE.
    :Not to mention nuking five Xangles sagas and fracking up about a billion blorkk.com frwoa formatting files.
    :It's times like this I feel jealous of all the people who only read the informercials for the Xangles and Blorkk sagas an never have to experience the actual frwoas.
    :I think we should beep Lindsy.
    :We could fry her brain with this level of complexity.
    :We could fry all the known existences in Being if we don't try.
    :K, do it.   :K.    :0.   :Enter.    :Beep.
    :Lindsy, look down.
    :Oh, hello Tit!  What are you doing all the way down there?  It's been quite awhile.  How are things back at--
    :Sorry to be rude, Lindsy, we don't have much time.  Tag and I have a crisis frwoa error on our hands.  We need you to run a search for an emergency blink fuel generation protocol.
    :Silly Tit.  Did you hit K,0,enter again?  I swear, one of these days you're gonna blink us all to bits.
    :Lindsy, please.
    :Alright.  Searching...   K, the only thing that's coming up is a Level 50 Wizard spell in the second to last edition of AD&D Exotica called "Create Blink Fuel and Water"
    :Nothing else?
    No, nothing.  Beep.
    :Tag, that'll do.  Lindsy, could you send us the AD&DE spell?
    :Sending... beep.
    Alright thank you, Lindsy.  Beep.
    :So now what?
    Why don't we just write a first first contact protocol?
    :We have to wait a few minutes before doing anything, the fuel spell takes a few seconds to warm up and I--
    But we don't have time.  We don't know if they're hostile.  They could be preparing to attack the complex right now.  We have to act fast.
    :Tit, stop quoting Dr. Horrible.  That was the most ridiculous frwoa in the history of mankind.
    :For one thing, the girl dies.  That's just too tragic for a comedic frwoa.  The protagonist is supposed to save the girl.
    :Not if the protagonist is evil.  Anyway didn't Penny get wheeled away by some ambulence guys?
    :Yah but they couldn't save her.  She was too far gone for that time period.
    :Well when we're done with this, why don't we charge a 155th billenia IDS frwoa blink and go save her ourselves?
    :I'm sorry Tit, I must have missed the part where you hacked into the hospital mainframe and downloaded the standard procedure for bringing a human being back from the dead.
    Maybe we should ask the aliens what the standard procedure is.
    No, we have to face the possibility that this is their first contact too.  And besides, we can't just walk up to them, since they might be hostile.  They might do something terrible to us like tear our pulsating entrails out of our chests with vicious thrusting tenticles, and stuff our hollow torsos full of cheap store-brand cottage cheese then bury our bodies with Britney Spears or 50-Cent CDs--
    Pst, Bob, since when are CDs fifty cents on Earth?
    No, he's an artist.
    Is he any good?
    I'll tell you later.  Shh, let's listen to this.
    :But... I liked Penny.  Didn't you?
    :No.  And shut about it.
    :But didn't you think--
    :Are we going to turn into a commentary soundtrack for an obscure Earth frwoa or get this done?
    :I thought that was the point of all frwoas.  OK, It's ready...  Now, to blink Pik up to level 50, I just do the inverse of what I did to get us here.  Sooo... Enter, O, K... Done.  So, what was wrong with Penny?
    :Tit it's 0, not O.
    .Oh, how about a double hyphen instead of the period?
    .Pik, where the hell did you go?  I'm so sick of you blinking away at random.  I don't get why you loose orbian consciousness so often--or maybe you're just catching Kyle's ADHD or Susan's narcolepsy--but if you know it's gonna happen, instead of blinking away, why not just shut off?
    :Oh.  Dear.  Gods.  Of.  Florbb.    :Tag?    :Tit.    :Tag?
    :You know, I would probably make some comment about now about being with the only being in known Being to misexponentiate a depth insertion, blink the only needed bot orb back to it, then waste our new fuel supply blinking him right back to the only frwoa depth less useful than the one he misblinked him to in the first place--
:Not to mention randomizing the skit-prose medium on blorkk.com again and probably confusing the !@#$ out of six billion freaders...
:--if I thought there was a scant chance in hell that figuring a way to word such a comment wouldn't fry every existent Blorkk xiter's brain.
    :Don't blame the xiters for my stupidity.
    :Alright alright alright.  OK.  OK.  Tit, pick another protocol to blink Pik back and prep the depth frwoa framework for a fifty-depth fall.
    :All that'll take awhile.  Your alliteration alone is altering IDS acronym illiteration association protocol.
    :Just do it, and shut up about it.  My brain's about to melt if I don't get a billionth of a nanit of silence.
    :Me shut up?  But I'm so charismatic.  I'm the comic relief character.  What better sidekick could you possibly pick?
    Just shut up.
    Penny for your thoughts on 50-Cent.
    :Shut it!  I need silence.
    :Penny for your thoughts on Penny.
    :Look, Penny was shallow!  She was a static character.  Do you know what a static character is?  It means they don't change one bit in the whole damn frwoa.  Dr. Horrible might as well have been in love with a dollar menu hamburger.
    :So I don't profit?
    :Well, I paid a penny for your two cents and all you did was change a Penny for a quarter pounder.

    Jeff, were the last ten lines contrived just to deliver that line?
    More like the whole frwoa.
    What a frangle.

    :Hold it!
    :I have an idea.  I think Jeff could help us.  Blink him here, use an instant.
    :K.  K... 0...

    Who the hell--where the hell--what the hell?
    Look, you can't give a penny for my two cents on 50-Cent now, we're at a meeting about an alien invasion if you haven't noticed.
    :Where am I?   Did someone 50-send me?  I was just on level 3.
    Wouldn't he be 47-Cent then? 
    :We blinked you.  We have an emergency frwoa depth error on our hands and I thought maybe you could help.
    :Did someone hit K,O again?  Gof, when will all you newbie techie idiots learn to-- Alright, hold on, I think can program Orbo's IDS drive to... wait, what's--Tit, have you been trying to install Quake on Orbo again?  Gods of Florbb, you-- wait, hold on...
    :How long is this going to take?
    :Better grab a couple beers... So, I'm dying to know.  Who had the brain dead sense to 50-send you two dolts?
    :If you haven't noticed, Tit's a !@#$ing tit.
    :Tit did it?  Where's Tats?
    :Tit took his shift.
    :Tit for Tats?
    :Tat's four dits--.. hold on...
    :Tat's four ditsy pet unicorns mauled some Blorkk-Okuaka ambassador to a bloody pulp just outside Flu swamp territory and the Alliance is pressing charges on Greenpeas.  They say they should have done more to foritfy the pea mulg content of the swamp waters to sedate the ambassador-mauling tendency of tourist unicorns when they don't get enough greens in their swamp mush.  It wasn't Tat's fault, but he had to take a trip to Area 47 to testify.  Apparently like two thousand ex-Greenpeas blowjeithiens pooled their resources and chipped in twenty Earth bucks for a good lawyer.
    Hey, that's like a penny a blowj--
    If you quote Clerks one more time today I'm going to castrate you.  Besides, it's 37, not 47.  Do we have to watch Clerks 47 times  before you memorize a two digit permutation of ten digits?
    :Tag, watch it with the plot elements!  This is a massively nonlinear frwoa!  The more details you spout off, the less modular the frwoa depths are, and then they can't be shifted around to confuse the !@#$ out of the freaders.  If even a single freader ever actually fully understands what the hell is going on anywhere in Blorkk, it's the end of the entire Blorkk-Okuaka artistic license treaty.  Frwoa sales would plummit, boredom would skyrocket, and the only entertainment left for anyone anywhere would be all out war between the only two known universes that anybody that anybody knows about knows about.
    :Existence War I?
    :Known Existence War I.
    :Dunh dunh dunh!
    :Tit, shut up.  Wait, what about all the other known univi?
    :The freaders can't know about those.
    :Ohhh, OK.  And the unknown known univi?
    :Especially not those.
    :So I suppose it would be off the chart to even hint at mentioning the sftlkuaa--
    :Oh...  Ohhh!  OK.  I get it now.  Well how about the--
    :Hold it, Jeff.  What are you talking about, I don't see any dialogue depths around here.
    :Whoawhoawhoawhoa.   Tag, are you serious?
    :Seriously?    :Seriously.    :Tag.    :Jeff?    :Tag.    :Ya?
    :Did Tit by any chance of the imagination hit F2 today?
    :Yah, so?  It put our night goggles on or something.
    :Tit?    :Jeff?    :Hit it again.
    No, it's not 47-Cent, because it's one penny in exchange for two, all three of which come from our own pockets and have nothing to do with 50-Cent whatsoever.
    :Who the hell is 50-Cent?
    :Holy !@#$ing---we're interlaced with the other depth frwoas?  Have these been here the whole time?
    :Tag?  Who's--
    :Tag, you two really didn't see this stuff?
    :But everything made sense without them.
    :That's because this depth is self-interlaced.  The whole frwoa makes sense if you leave out the other depths and just read the light blue stuff.  In a microcosm, it would sorta be like re-reading every other line of the last eight lines of this conversation (inclusively) to edit out Tit's pesty nagging curiosity that apparently can't wait for five seconds until I've explained something crucial to the plot of the rest of this skit to you.
    :Who's 50-Cent?
    :I think they mean "50-SENT."  One of the billions of needlessly confusing and condensed Xangles/Blorkk terms is to refer to being sent to a frwoa depth as "X-sent", as in, "someone 3-sent me" instead of "sent me to depth 3"
    :But isn't that abysmal contrivance from this frwoa's frangle?
    :Welcome to Blorkk.
    :FADE IN.
    If you two are going to exchange a penny for two, why don't you simply give him a penny?
    :What a classic line.
    :Have you seen this frwoa?
    :No, I mean it just sounds classic.
    :This isn't a freaking movie theatre.  Do you see a popcorn stand?  Do you see popcorn?  Do you see a bunch of kids throwing popcorn at eachother?  Do you see a big fat guy with a tub of popcorn yelling at the kids throwing popcorn at the back of his head?
    :OK, I think I have Orbo fixed.  Just let him run through the rest of the frwoa and he'll be all set to get you guys out of here.  He'll know what to do.
    :The rest of the frwoa?  What the hell do we do until then?
    :Get some popcorn, I suppose.
    :Alright, thanks Jeff.  You better get back to d3.  Tit, hit-- wait, I'll do it.
    :K... 3... enter.
    :later guys   :pzztzz
    :Well, Tit, it's gonna be a long time 'til the cows un-tip and the pigs fly back to Narnia.
    :Since when do cows and pigs fly home?
    They're just metaphors, Bob.
    :Can he hear us?
    :You heard me.
    :What about them?
    :Tit, look where you're listening.
    :Oh.  Ohhh, OK.  But, can he hear us now?
    :No.  See those chipzits on Orbo?  A d50d2 audiograffahole is completely metaphysically impossible while those are fried.
    But what are they for?
    :I just told you.
    :Look who's not looking where they're listening now.
    :Sorry.  You're right, this is a little disorienting.  It's like... uh...
    It's like metaphysics.
    For metaphysics... and for Narnia!  Cue clueless, utterly battle-inexperienced toddler leading a well trained army into slaughter on a ditsy unicorn.
    :What's Narnia?
    :It's like Generika.
    :What's a unicorn?
    :It's like a cross-breed between a Kroffonian donkey and a spiked death orb.
    All these puns and allusions are driving me to castrate myself.
    :Why do I suddenly get the feeling we're about to be metaphysically mauled by a stampede of dead horse puns involving castration and unicorns?
    .Pik, do you think that's a little crude?
    .We don't have permissions to blink back and change anything.  How about an ampersand?

    :Wait, can the other Orbo hear us?
    :Gods of Mars I hope not.
    Would you guys shut up?  There's an alien invasion going on if you haven't noticed.
    :What invasion?  Did I miss something?  Quick, give me a re-cap.
    We're so awkwardly removed from the conversation by this point I don't think there's any jumping back in.
    :No, see, since we hit F2, we jumped into the commentary.  We haven't seen the main frwoa dialogue yet.  It's--hey where the hell did you get popcorn?
    Look, I'll give you a whole freaking quarter to shut up.
    :That would only buy half a 50-send K0.
    That would only buy half a 50-cent CD.
    :Tit, it's just a verb, not an adjective.
    Bob, It's just his name.  It's not actually--
    :It's just a word, Tag.  The xiters laugh in the face of English grammar and switch them around all the time.  All you'd need is a used K0 xindex CD-RW burner to change it, which I just happened to install into Orbo last night on the chance you'd try to correct my grammar on this mission like you usually do.  So I might as well not do the work and use it however the hell I like.  From this frwoa's frangle, I think we've already established that the term was just contrived a few minutes ago, so I don't think a little further contrivance is gonna kill anyone.
    No, I meant a discounted used CD, like at Newbury Comics.
    What about a discounted 50-Cent CD?
    :What about a discounted 50-send K0?
    That would be anything under 50 cents, right?
    :But it would probably implode oblivion after 50 sends.
    .But short term temporal blinks are so cheap.  They're like, 47 nil each or something.
    Like 47?  A penny a blowj--
    That's it.  I'm getting out my pocketknife.
    No, wait!
    :Tag, I'm bored.  Can't we just !@#$ up something and let Orbo go fix it when he's back online?  It's not like he isn't programmed with 603 billion temporal restoration subroutines.  There must be one working by now.
    .I told you they don't want us mangling around with this timeline.
    .Come on, it's for the kids.  They break protocol on Star Trek every time it helps out.

    .Alright, I just happened to bring along a quick subroutine good for short blinks.  Use it carefully if you want to @edit something by the end of the frwoa, because there's only charge on it.
    Hey, could I borrow that when you're done?
    :Tag, is this entire freaking frwoa just a bunch of idiots commenting on a scene we never even see?
    :Wait, I think it's on pause.  Here, hit F2 again.
    :Which one?  Wait, this one?--
    --so our eternal souls will be forever haunted by the melody to "Oops I Did It Again..."
    Pst, Bob, did he just pick up right where he left off?
.Pik, did he just pick up right where he left off?
    :Tag, Is it me, or does every dialogue pick up where it leaves off?
    I think we hit a level three temporal anomaly.

    .You dope, you ran the temporal blink routine by mistake!
    :You dufus, we've been operating in an accelerated temporal frwoa!  Hit F1 again.
    Oops... I hit the level three temporal anomaly button again by mistake.
    :Again?  But we tried that.  For all we know, hitting F1 twice nukes the whole frwoa.
    :Or neuters an unsuspecting kennel of fracolic pit bulls.
    What's that screaming, is someone being castrated?
    .Yah, Pik, I really think 'castrated' is overboard
    :Hey, I told you not go overboard on your crudeness at the start of all this.  The recorder's been stuck running ever since your idiot blink typo landed us all the way down here.  And wouldn't it be nice to have a bot orb here that could do something about it, if someone hadn't inadvertantly placed him into a SIX HUNDRED KILONANIT recharge routine just before we got here.
    .Why don't you fix it?  Oh wait, somebody already hit the one charge temporal blink routine.  You know, I'm the friendliest kfrorb in any ku around, but if you make one more dufus screw up, Orbo, I'm going to scream.
    Why would you immediately equate screaming with castration?
    :Hold up, Tag, do you hear that?
    :Orbo's charger.
    :What about it?
    Well, it just sort of sounds... nevermind.  Hey, is that someone else screaming?
    :I think--oh wait!  Here! F1 does neuter a kennel of fracolic pit bulls... I started a game of Puppy Fable last night.  At the beginning you have to torture the animals to propel the main conflict of whether they end up ill tempered guard dogs, or lovable seeing eye dogs for the blind that go around visiting dying children in hospitals in their spare time.
    .And I never scream.  I didn't even scream when I saw the Earth premier of Scream 5, when a terrorist blinker with a morbid sense of humor figured it'd be fun to vaporize everyone watching it opening night, just to go the extra mile with the way Scream links up various frwoas, you know?  It's like when some of the Early Urgg Alliance probed ten milliion humans the night of the Star Trek IV premier just to laugh at the pun of the word 'probe.'  Man, it really sucks when you're stuck on Earth for so long with no way off.  Nothing to do.
    Or they could anally probe us.
    Yes, or that.  Though that's probably too cliche for real life.
    :More like REEL life.  Real life is for frangles blessed with the blissful psychotic ignorance that nobody's watching you.
    :What a frangle.
    Pst, Bob, what does he mean by 'real life'?
    I thought this was a compsci major's ongoing nightmare turned bad skit turned bad selling humor book re-turned bestselling audio skit saga.  Not real life.
    Well, it depends on your xangle.
.What's a depends?
    What's a xangle?
    :What's a 'well'?
    For the love of God would someone get that entire exchange student group of monks named Bob out of here.
    Sorry, sir.  Alright, listen up, you guys have to come with me.  I need to see your IDs and giraffapassports.
 Hey, you three!  What the hell are you doing down there!  That's restricted to high clearance personell!
    :Holy !@#$ Tit!  It--quick, do something!
    .What the hell?
    .Hey there, I blinked you into depth xangle 4.  You can't kick the Bob monks out just yet.  They kinda have to be here for awhile.
    .What the hell is this place?  What's with all the dots?
    .Let's just say it's another dimension, k?  Anyway did you here me?
    .Um, yah, don't kick the monks out.  Can I go back to Earth now?
    .Orbo, you vaporized him!  Gods of Florbb, now we have to write another temporal routine...
    .Quick, upload me Punk's magnetic boardpong begram.
    .What the hell's that going to do?
    .Just do it, quick!  Removing a human from this timeline will only delay the Urgg invasion the longer we wait to fix this...
    :Where am I?
    :Gods of Florbb.
    :This shit is seriously giving me an existential crisis.
    :Tag, he wasn't vaporized.  Orbo blinked him here.  He blinked him here.
    :But Orbo's off.
    :Not our Orbo, their Orbo.
    :Who are you people?  You're not... are you... are you guys aliens?
    :Well, it depends on your frangle.
    :What's a frangle?
    :It's like a xangle.
    :I... so... you mean, aliens actually exist?
    :What do you mean, you guys are dealing with a first contact mission as we speak.
    :No!  That's just it!  We're not!  We're rehersing military protocol for what to do if we ever found any!
    :You mean--
    :Houston, we have a problem.
    :Tag, you do realize we can't blink this guy back until Orbo's up?
    :Better freeze him for now.  Do we even have a freeze procedure?
    :With my--
    :If you even think about quoting Dr. Horrible one more time I swear I'll blink you straight to the seventh circle of hell.
    :Alright, buddy, hold tight.  K... 0...
    :What the hell--
    :Alright, he's out.
    :Pass the popcorn.
    Well, if they're invading, what are they waiting for?
    Maybe they're trying to figure out whether they have a first invasion protocol.
    They probably don't if this is their first invasion.  Why don't we write one for them, so we can make sure they don't kill us all?
    Yes, and include a part where they teach us all their technology.
    And feed us mutant roaches!
    I hope they have robotic kittens.
    People.  We still don't know if they're hostile or not.  We have no idea what to expect from them.  And in the name of the holy ghost why are there two sets of balls are on the conference table?
    :Great Gods of Florbb!  Are those bot orbs?
    Crap!  What the-- how did matter on our side cross over to-- wait a sec...
    .Holy crap, that's Obb!  One of those balls is Obb!
    I think this room doubles as a pool hall in the summer.
    :Oh, phew.
    Oh, phew.
    Oh phew.
    A hall is a really awkward place to swim.
    I think it's mainly for laps, Dan.
    No, just laps.
    No lapdances?
    Oh, that explains the balls.
    .OK, this explains a lot.  The last thing anyone knew about Obb, he was screwing around with some type of experimental nuclearmoka energy in the Okuaka Orion nebula... 
    :This is confusing the !@#$ out of me.  Why does Obb NOT being one of the table balls explain anything?
    :I think it's a xiter oversight.  Or maybe some screw loose krforbs somewhere overloaded on blink fuel and crashed and were so hung over the next morning they forgot to come back an insert an explanation.
    Screw the balls, that exlpains everything....
    Wait, if these aliens were to go away and come back, we would need a second contact protocol for that, right?
    Uh, yes.  A first second contact protocol, to be specific.
    And the problem here is we don't have any time to write a first first contact protocol before taking action.
    What are you getting at?
    Well, if we can just scare away the aliens long enough to buy the time to write a first second contact protocol, then we'll know exactly what to do once they get back.
    That's a possibility.
    Bob, why do balls explain everything?
    Look, from a spherical perspective, the seven foci are seven Kroffonian orbs, right?  Like balls--
    :Or krforb planets in ID space, from any sane Xanglian frangle.  What's that poem some Plutonian phyt wrote about your online metaphysical rants?
    :"Little balls of bits and bytes and bigger balls of dirt and rocks, are all just sorta spheres in space in Tit's two-hit mock-phyt net thoughts."
    What kind of balls are we talking about at this point?  I'm so lost.  This is maddening.  Can I borrow that pocketknife?
    I think they were always metaphorical balls.
    :Holy !@#$, Tag! that's a metafracolic hyperknife!
    You know, like metaphysics.
    So metaphysics is a metaphor for metaphor?
    :Yah but it's relevance is totally irrelevant relative to anything going on.
    And visa versa.
    --and there are seven pool balls to each pool player, right?
    :What kind of balls are we talking about again?
    :I think the dialogue's still pooled on the little ones.  The polar end of the orb-planet metapole you dislike so much.
    Okay, pool balls.
    So if nothingness tears apart by equal opposittes, the seven pool-orb-foci--
    Ugh, nevermind.
    Ak!  Oh my God, how can anyone do that to themselves.  This is like way beyond painful.  Alright, let me try this again.
    :Tag, Is he trying to use the hyperknife to cut himself out of the frwoa?
    :More like out of exitsence entirely.

    --exist because of the seven anti-pool-orb-foci.  Therefore...
    :If Protak makes us download another freaking undelete batch file to come back and fix this I swear I think I'm going to start praying for a nonexistence hyperknife myself.
    Wait, what if something goes wrong at the second contact and we want to revise the first second contact protocol?  Would we then have a second, first second contact protocol?
    No, because once the first second contact is over, we'll never have one again, so we won't need to revise the protocol.  The next time after that that we encounter a species for the second time, it will be our second second contact, so we'll need a first, second second contact protocol ready, rather than a second, first second protocol, which would be useless.
    Wait, what--
    Wait, that's funny.
    What he just-- wait, you really didn't catch-- Nevermind.
    :Who's Nirvana.
    :They're a band.
    :Are they any good?
    :Better than 50-Cent.
    --happens if we all get killed, and no one ever knows that there was a first contact at all.  They might think the next contact is the first and improperly call that one the first contact.
   :Was nirvana a set up for getting killed?
   :I think nevermind was a set up for Nirvana.
    In that case, we should call the pentagon to let them know what's going on.
    No, we can't inform the pentagon.  They only believed we were being attacked by aliens twice before we had to stop playing that joke.  They did fall for the human squid story, but nothing after that.  No, I'm afraid right now we're all the boy who cried rabid yodling seamonkey.  We're so alone, it's so hopeless...
    He's almost in tears.
    Wait, do you mean wolf?
    I never cry_wolf.
    Contrivance again.  That's so lazy.
    :Why do I get the feeling all the contrived jokes are contrived set ups for the contrivance jokes?
    :Touche, Tit.
    Bob, What's cry_wolf?
    It's a bad middle school Earth Horror movie of the 155th billenia like the dumb Xangles werewolf frwoa.  Judo blinked me back there once and we rented it by accident.  I remember the video tape got jammed, and I got this strange feeling like I had to turn the page of reality or something, and then--
    Okay, I got it, I think I can use an old technique called psycho cybernetics to change the perception of the pain, and then--
    And then the single line of non-dialogue in the entire frwoa uselessly informed the readers that there was a knock at the door, because it would have been revealed the next line anyway.
    :Knock, knock, Neo.
    :Follow the white mescaline addict.

    .And then--hey, where are we?
    .I blinked us forward a couple paragraphs.
    .I thought things seemed kind of silent for a natit.  Wait, you fixed the blink program?
    .Yah, but it didn't work right.  I'm completely rebooting firefox, knock on wood...

    Hey, is that a knock?
    Who is it?
    It's me, sir.
    Gofer, what do you want?
    I--I have a name, sir.
    Sorry Mark.
    Sorry Jark.  What do you want?
    Does anyone in here want some donuts?  The aliens sent them over, except I think they called them something different, donunuts or something...  I think this one's coconut
    Ralph, don't!  They could be--
    Oh my God it's an explosion, we're all dying.
    Why would you actually state that?
    I'm sure there's a reason.
    :Tag.  What's the reason?
    :Area 51 was the very first skit-prose frwoa on Earth, long before the explosion of Okuakan nonlinear art which eventually resulted in the ultimate and final end of all nonlinearity.  The line was meant to demonstrate the paradox of the artform, that nothing can happen if no one is around to speak of it.  Many Zeroan philosophers supported the noted theory that we should therefore just never talk about anything at all, because if nothing exists, then the usefulness of science is out the window and all that's left to do is think deep thoughts.
    Pst, Bob, aren't we all dead by now?
    I think a few people survived Hiroshima.
    Those guys probably hit a level three temporal anomaly.  Or maybe someone cast Phoenix Down right after they died.
.Oh No.  No...It crashed.  .Some local dorian whiz must have cast an Electrokroffonic Pulse.
    .But at least we're still alive... Wait, I think I fried a couple chipzits.  I need a protocol orb...
    Then if we're alive, shouldn't we go for help or something.
.There's no time for help, Orbo.  If we don't finish the temporal protocol in the next nanit--
    Sure, but we should probably help finish this protocol first.  We're the only ones left.
.The whole frwoa will just automatically finish itself and we'll be the only ones left anywhere.
    :Alright, Tag, what now?
    :Well, we have a confused unconscious guard, five nuked Xangles, a buggy skit-prose medium, a worsening ten-magnitude depth insertion error, two wasted tanks of blink fuel we drained mangling the space-time continuum more than anyone anywhere has probably ever even attempted, and a booting bot orb who will probably infect all artificially intelligent life everywhere with a collective ku-imploding digital ultimate migraine once we bring him up to speed, IF he's calmed down enough from last time not to simply vaporize us the moment he wakes up and senses something might be wrong again.  I'd say were screwed.
    :I think I need a more competent sidekick.
    :There's only one thing to do.  Tit, prep Orbo for another ids:x:b depth insertion.
    :What, why?
    :Well, assuming any way for us to further obliterate the structure of the ID space-time continuum thoroughly falls within the unexistent concept of Parmenides' Unbeing of 155th billenia Greek philosophy and that of the nonexistent phylors of Zeroa in the 877th....
    :A pretty fallicious assumption...
    :Then there's only one thing to do.
    :What's that, Tag?
    :Somewhere vaguely around the precise dead middle of the entire progression of Okuaka, right around the peak of Florbb, there's a cloned Earth-like planet of an information aged race that plays a key role in the stabalization of the known universe.  There's a crucial natural resource that's only found on one place on that one planet at that one time in all the history of the known universe, that Orbo will need to repair all the damage we've done.
    :But there's a snag, you see.  Orbo can get us there, but if anything goes wrong and we inadvertantly reveal our presence to anyone, let's just say it'll make today look like a bug in Microsoft Word.  At the very least, we could be executed for about 603 billion different violations of evolutionary interference, galactic and kuic treason, and just plain frwoa-repair idiocy.
    :OK, so what's our alternative?
    :Oh, I suppose we could always hack Orbo's frwoa recorder, hit replay, and watch the last half hour of our lives until we run out of popcorn or die of starvation or air depletion....
    :I really don't give a damn at this point.
    :Alright, then, Tit, hit K0 and prep another ids:x:b depth insertion.
    :What coordinates?
    :Well, where's the planet?
    :Where is it?
  :Where's the primitive information-aged Earth-like replica with a governmental nuclear testing site that controls the one resource in the known universe that could help us restore the delicate IDS balance we just !@#$ed up in about 51 billion ways, that unfortunately for us has never had any contact with outisde races making it pretty much a no-brainer not to do what we're about to do and mangle the fabric of Okuakan space time more than we already have?
    :Yah, where the !@#$ is it?  I need the coordinates.
    :Take a wild !@#$ing guess.

    Which one?

    .This one...
    :What level?
    I dunno, the first?
    .Yes, it's definitely this button.  Alright, here we go... Orbo?  Orbo!  You're shutting down!
    :K, Orbo's online.  K...  0....
    Okay, I got one off...  <<

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