I will set a precedent here by assuring that the primary section of the node is concerned with The Never-Ending Write-Up story wheras the second half of it will be occupied by witty commentary or idle banter or babble or whatnot. Unless this takes on a life of its own and spawns... a Second Never-Ending Write-Up with a significantly more mundane and prosaic style to it...

Example: should the story continue with the format established above of not linking?

(A vestigial form of what we now know as Pseudo_Intellectual contributed nearly the entirety of the following Second Never-Ending Write-Up nodestring):

(the end?)

The Third Never-Ending Write-Up ended up as a species of duel between myself and the gracious and capable Svaha.

(And regrettably she left this fair community before the story could start getting interesting. Alas.)

The original writeups, in all their glory:

(thing) by Pseudo_Intellectual
Sat Nov 13 1999 at 09:52 utc

As the rain beat fiercely down the muddy hillsides the villagers, huddled in their hovels beneath insect-infested canopy beds, heard the insidious slap-slap, slap-slap of the infernal Demon-Duck which had returned to exact its grizly and supernatural vengeance upon the hamlet, as it did every 30 years.

by fondue
Sat Nov 13 1999 at 09:52 utc

The Demon-Duck (deftly sidestepping the cue that 'waddling' might have suggested a penguin or Upright Marmoset) would plunge its supple neck through the rooves of their thatched hovels, it's slavering beak snapping and pouring forth hellish quacking, sated only by the taste of human flesh. Only the elders knew of why it bore its eternal grudge, but they also knew that one day a champion would step forward...

by Hai-Etlik
Sat Nov 13 1999 at 09:52 utc

The mighty duck let lose a mighty quack and the villagers began to scream. Quendu, leader of the elder's council, hobbled to the great bell at the center of town to summon his fellow concilers. As he lurched through the mud he cursed the duck which, 42 years ago, took his left leg.

by fondue
Sat Nov 13 1999 at 09:52 utc

But still the pedant droned on and on about the Demon-Duck, unaware of the grumbles of discontent and people stroking guns in the audience.
"That's just a fairy story old man!" cried one receptionist in the throng.
"Where's the gratuitous T &A?" bawled an assistant crackwhore. By way of response the pedant raised his arms and cried out-

by Pseudo_Intellectual
Sat Nov 13 1999 at 09:52 utc

(hem hem) "One thing I just don't get anymore is why with better technology and education everything seems to be going down the tubes at a faster rate than ever before. I mean, Christ, imagine what a monastery of hacks could establish in this turbulent economy."(hem hem) (takes a drink from his glass of water.) "And another thing..." but at this the crowd began to jeer and throw rotten fruit.

by fondue
Sat Nov 13 1999 at 09:53 utc

As the pedant began to run to ground, perhaps to find sanctuary in the depths of a geek burrow, there was one man in the crowd who was not throwing fruit. Quite the opposite in fact - fruit debris was peeling itself from the walls and reconstituting&itself in midair as it hurtled inexorably towards his idle palm. His attention was diverted from this humdrum act by the incessant beeping of his futuristic PDA. A message flickered across its 12 dimensional LED screen :

by Pseudo_Intellectual
Sat Nov 13 1999 at 09:55 utc

"Y-o-u-'-v-e--g-t-o--t-o--h-e- l-p--m-e-.-.-.-I--a-m--t-r-a-p -p-e-d--i-n-s-i-d-e--y-o-u-r-- c-o-m-p-u-t-e-r-.-.-.-" The fruitfellow grinned evilly and turned off the screen. His pet was getting acclimatized to the new environment in which it had been transferred.

by fondue
Sat Nov 13 1999 at 09:55 utc

Turning his back on the crowd, the man made his way out of the Hall, and decended the marble staircase to the limo waiting below. A tinted window slid down with a buzz. The driver, cloaked in shadow, asked "Where to next boss?" "Back to the hotel," replied the man, a brief curl of unearthly light reflecting momentarily in his shades from within the car. From within the man's briefcase ...

by Dorian
Sat Nov 13 1999 at 09:56 utc

..faint whirring as it reconfigured itself into hotel mode. The man slid into the limo's back seat and put on a pair of headphones, burying himself in what seemed to be the heavy riffs of Deep Purple. Unknown to him, however, his car stereo had been tampered with, which meant that beneath the sensory pleasure he was receiving from Ian Gillan's vocals, he was actually undergoing alpha wave brainwashing. The effects would be complete in a few moments, his chauffeur knew...

by wanderer
Sat Nov 13 1999 at 10:00 utc

... as he listened to the music, he began to fall into a deep sleep. Upon awakening, he realized he was strapped to a large operating table, in some sort of warehouse. Try as he might, he could not loosen the straps. Just then, he heard a large door opening, and a voice like he had never heard before spoke, and it said "...

by Dorian
Sat Nov 13 1999 at 10:01 utc

"Poot! Arglebargle gronk," or so the man thought he heard in his befuddled haze. "Was that Latin?" he wondered. His nerves were straining as he lay on the operating table, tensely waiting for something or someone to enter through the door. That's when the lights failed, and in the darkness, to his alarm, he felt something warm and moist suddenly brush against his fingers...

by wanderer
Sat Nov 13 1999 at 10:01 utc

"Oh no!" he gasped, realizing what was happening. The walls were turning inta a dark, fleshy color, and the floor and ceiling were breathing in and out. He had seen this once before, on PBS, so he was quite sure what was going on. He had to get out of here, fast. Looking around, he made the decision to ...

by Snipe
Sat Nov 13 1999 at 10:09 ut

Push himself into a delta wave trace and attempt to feel the walls from the inside. Suddenly, his mind's eye illuminated the darkness and he saw the duck, in all of its tainted glory! He knew the exits, he knew his fate and quickly he ...

by Dorian
Sat Nov 13 1999 at 10:11 utc

...took a flying leap into the unknown, breaking his bonds and falling into a coma. In the alternate reality his mind entered the man was clad in a black leather catsuit with a gun in his hand, creeping stealthily down a corridor. Sirens were blaring and lights were flashing as he was passed by drugged zombies stumbling past him, clinging to the walls. Was this Alphaville? No, he realized he had come to...

by wanderer
Sat Nov 13 1999 at 14:15 utc

... Bill Gates' mind! As he looks around he sees many strange objects floating around, morphing into shapes and colors that are impossible to describe. One of the most interesting objects floats by... upon closer examination he is shocked to find out that it is a ...

by electricbarbarella
Sat Nov 13 1999 at 14:30 utc

... psychic manifestation of the Great Penguin! It had projected its presence across the expanse of space and time to save him from the horrible fate that awaited him in the blackness of Bill Gate's subconcious mind. The Great Penguin lit some powerful n-th dimensional insence and began to chant, "...

by Pseudo_Intellectual
Sat Nov 13 1999 at 14:38 utc

I will not crash. Monopoly is the industry-killer."

Remembering the fondness which he had once had towards his 12-dimensional screen, the man smiled and awoke. He was lying on the table, naked and alone. He loosened his restraints and checked for any visible scars.


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