Neverending Story [Game]

[GAGAGO]

I am serious. Where is Pekka?

[GAGAGO]

I ask again! Where is Pekka? Answer!

[ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ]

Jaja! I will try to tell you!

"Where is Pekka Fucking?", said Freckle. "We could need him now. I think we made a mistake, when we let the bear eat Goethe-the alien Alpha-goat. He is like our Särimner, with Universal-cells, and I wonder what will happen tomorrow, when he is coming back. Pekka might have known what to do".

Knock, knock, on the door, and there was Pekka. And he was ANGRY!

"What have you done, you sacramental, ignorant fools? You let the bear eat the Alpha-goat and noone knows what will happen now".

The bear snored in the corner, but one could also hear a faint Määä from his stomach.

"Listen", said Pekka, "You ignorant fools. Goethe wakes up now, since the Sun is rising and the bear can exolode"!

"But, but",the Poet protested. "He wanted me in his harem and we had to eliminate him".

"Jaja, you silly fool. Now you have eliminated that bear too, and it can be very sticky in here when Goethe comes out through a big hole in that poor bears stomach.
I am sure that the bear didn't spare Goethes cell-X-Y-bonemarrow and it means that Goethe can't be his old self again. I have no idea what for a natures wonder that will come out from the bear now."

As an answer to his question, the bear started to belch. And he belched! And he belched! Suddenly they could see something in his big bearmouth. It was a head! But NOT a goathead. NO! NO! It was a dinosaurus-head with thousands of grinning teeth.

Belch, belch, and out flew a tyrannossaurus-baby...

The bear looked at the floundering thing that hang in the corner of his mouth and he bearscreamed. Brääämåäååäm!

The strange thing jumped down to the floor and ran to the Poet, that started to poet-scream.(In rhymes)

"Help, help, holy Gods mother-flex, it is a goat-tyrannossaurus-rex and he is going to bite me to oral-sex, with all his two-thousand mega-teeth-plex".

"Huuuu", said Pekka, "This was what I feared the most. Look, look. He is growing. He is growing fast. Very very fast . HUUU....

[GAGAGO]

Ja Ja but not enough.

Edit.
Come in and write about Pekka. We need that after the sad Tolkkireality. More Pekkadinos, please.

[ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ]

Pekka says thank you!


And the Dino-Rex grew. But when he was big, as a goat, he stopped. He had got one horn at the top of his head and a goatbeard on his stomach. He had one goateye, that looked kindly at the poet, but the other was a very nasty Dino-eye, that cunningly studied Pekka. His very tiny forelegs fought the air, and had blue goathovs. He was with two words an appalling Monster.

The poet still rhymescreamed.

"I will not be a dino-dinner,
I regret I was a cheat and a sinner,
That made coffee of pee,
Oh please let me be,
As a dinner I am a real skinner".

But Pekka was calm.

"We must do something before he starts to grow again. He needs meat-protein and not hay and his evil eye looks at me. The goat-eye seems to luster for you, Poet, but food comes before sex for him now".

"I will not be some sexsweet after you, the main-course. No sex with Rex,no perplex, sudden Rexsex", he cried.

"Jaja! And I will not be chewed by those two-thousand teeth".

The Dino-goat licked his Dino-lips and jumped towards Pekka. "Yyyylyyylauwayyl" He opened his big Dino-Rex-mouth and all his teeth glistened dangerously.

But Pekka was faster than fast. He throw a big sack over Dino-Rex and hold his tiny forearms in a hard alien-grip. Then he summoned commander Strutt on the ship and ordered an immediate beaming, Earth-Moon.

"Jaja, huh, for this time", said Strutt. "But this is not some tramcar and I will talk to you on "Most nices poster" after this...

[AGAG]

Well if you can answer me it's really ok. What are the chances? you could be looking at the same point on the sky where Pekka is! Does Pekka dance? He could dance and we can watch him from our roofs, like sunflowers.

The poet was dishevelled and he didn't made more rhyme-sex. "That's why Pekka goes! When there's only stars to tow, I will make sure they glow, when the universal penis stops its flow." He still had certain glist-glitt in his eyes apparently and he could make his rhymes more silken and puffy, but still! But what about the story? No goat mass-revolt now?

Pekka was saved, on the strong arms of Strutt. The world, wasn't, however, and they started to spin, roughly, mercilessly, breaking all the houses. Also, a, very, strange, overflow, of, commas, started, to invade, all the, books. Hubble, linguist and, grammaticologist, stated that "This commas, are, nothing to, be, afraid of,, they are tamed, silly, and obtrusive, they will harm no one,,, if you don't let them, you let, them, if you, start getting, angry, at them. Like, the, bees; the fucking, bees."

The poet, who wrote, started jumping, angrily, and made one, poem. Just one.

"Fucking, commas
Fuck, fuck, the, commas
Fuck their mommas
There comes Obama
Like a flower"

Apparently, he had lost all his creativity and he was about to get expelled from his writing moor and to become a full-time piss-goat. He readily asked Freckle, his best friend, for advice.

"You need to stop the piss, Poet..." she said, while the plaits made a bantering typhoon "Here! Here's a Hubble pill that will make you not pee ever again. This one is called P-osbtructor. Yes! OSB"

So the poet became peeless in a miraculous act of Hubble, who had just made that pill for his friend. He stopped peeing and he also stopped drinking water. But all the coffee, all the tea, all his pee-lack was overwhelming. He couldn't chain those memories and that taste.. The nostalgia chewed his heart. The moon! The fucking moon. There rested pekka safely for a while. But then the goats developed goat-science and very very soon they came up with missile technology.

Goatstok 1K was the first goated mission in history and it had the moon as their primordial objective. Everything aimed at pekka. "Hyyshshshshshshshsh" made the milk propulsed ship and in less than 15 minutes, it was already on orbit. In 20 minutes, it had already crashed aparatuosly in Pekka's backyard.

"What is this wet-fur smell?" Asked pekka, and and a spurt of milk soaked his face, numbing all the things, and soon there were shackles and...................

[ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ]

I have an unexspected day off and am bored.Huh!

"Where the heck are all those shackles, at the horisont, coming from"? asked Pekka. "Haven't I said that we should stop them at all costs. They saved us indeed from the commahord, that now are deleted, but are those monstrous-shackles so much better"?

He continued. "Everything is that Salvador-poets fault. He started with commas, after every word and never used points, that he called dust-specks".

"Jaja", said Freckle, that wanted to defend her best friend. "He loves commas and that is his democratical rights. He uses them to make his golden poetry even more golden. They hinder the thoughts from rushing away through the poem and they give room to deeper after-thoughts. But the war wasn't his idea. The comma-population was too large and they revolted".

"Jaja, thank God it is over now", sighed Pekka. "But, but, I am a bit worried over those shackles. Aren't they building up a secret army in the East, together with colons and semicolons. We can only hope, that the points don't enroll, since they are so many and so naiv. We need balance and with the commas down, there can be a big problem.

Bumb Kabumb. A shacklecanon could be heard in the East...
and, and...

[GAGAGO]

It is the commas that are invading us. HUH!

[GAGAGO]

So sorry I do not want to hear about commas. But Pekka, Pekka. Will you?

[ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ]

Jaja! I had hoped for AGAG, but he is a bit irregular nowadays, so I will try my best.

Pekka Fucking, yes! He was furious after he left the Dino-Rex on the Moon and had returned. His beaming-batteries were empty and he didn't know what to do.

"Vojne, vojne, that Goat-dino is really a pain in the ass. Why did you let the bear eat him so carelessly and destroy his DNA, you ignorant fool. You don't even understand what you have done".

They looked in the telescope and saw, together with all the astromomers and amateur-star-lookers all over the world, how Rex ate the last goat. They could also see, that it wasn't enough for him. He opened his big mouth, with all the 2000 teeth, in an abyss-loud-continous-confused roar, and it was the most scary sight any, now living, had seen.

The Rex jumped around the Moon, in frustated hunt for something to eat. Suddenly he took a big spring straight into the no-air, and because of the nil-gravity he didn't land on the Moon again.

He flew...

Out, out, out in the no-air. But after a while he was caught by the Earth's gravity, and he fell towards the large blue globe. He fell and he fell. But where, where would he land? Into the blue-green oceans, the high snow-mountains, or in one of the big cities. The world, that saw what happened, hold it's breath. Closer and closer he came. His mouth was open and his tail was like a rudder.

But where, oh where...

[AGAG]

I am so irregular, it is the hormone treatments. I am sorry.

He landed, of course, on the poet's house. Who was having waterless tea with freckle and a couple of dogs. "What can we do with this yellow shirt?" He said, to one of his dogs. And then the broom, and the skies shined through the roof and a rex lifted a cloud of dust all over the room. "The tea!" screamed freckle. A breaking cup of tea startled the bees. And also the moon woke up, but she woke up really scrumpy and scruffy, because she was on sleeping pills and being woken by some fucking cup of tea isn't appealing on a cloudless night. So it became round and round and the rex was unconscious over a pile of broken roof. The moon started insulting the stars, one of the most beautiful, Stella, began to cry horribly after being called a "errant ill-breeding shit-barnacle" by the moon, on one of her waking deliriums. Stella was really sensitive and her tears were seen from the earth, where the might of her sad titillation woke up the polar bears, who began to howl. The howling shook the ground all around and soon all the vasps and wasps of Finland and Sweden combined were awake, in a tornado of hatred and wrinkly under-slept eyes. They headed for the main cities, where everyone was asleep in a peaceful state after the goat-threat had worn off. Little did they know that the revolting oozing noodle-brain wasps were on their way to tear everything off.

And they did! they entered the snoring-man's mouths and the snoring-woman's noses relentlessly and unsolicited. Everyone in the city was awake after a while, trying to fight the wasps out of their homes and one man set fire to his own home with his children inside. The whole city was chaos and the hydrants didn't work so the whole city started catching fire and after some time, a very mutant disease was spread because of the goat milk that everyone had drank the night before, in celebration. The citizens started vomiting on top of each other, without thinking and soon they were all sticky and pale like grains of salt. The city was now covered in what seemed to be a new set of Plagues by Moses. The X-rex was on their way again, he just had a minor concussion in one paw and his head was a bit dizzy, but he headed to the mountains to eat more goats, whose Circadian rhythm had gone nuts and now they were eating flowers before dawn. The goats' guts where crushed by the grinding rex-saws, one after the other in a frenzy of blood and mindlessness.

But what happened to pekka?? He was alive and he was in one place. This place, of course, was.....

[ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ]

I love your poetic fantasy. You are really inventive!

I am coming back to Pekka someother day...


Edit: But since we are in the poetic mood I have a little "verse" as your sister calls it.

Fly me to the Moon,
Let me play among the goats,
Let me see what they can do,
When the Rex is in his flow,
In other words,
Oh let me see,
what a little goat can do to me.

[GAGAGO]

You can not stop this verses from comeing do you? But it is all right as long as it is about my idol, Pekka.

[AGAG]

Pekka was there, stapled on a mountain, sitting on a dire cushion of specks
and a solar disk made a very pretty aureole for his hands
he never wore rings but this was a very special occasion, a treat
since it was raining, and it hadn't rained for a while, specially there,
where all the wind converged and all the furrows met.
It doesn't rain, no!
because of the Circadian rhythm of the earth had been squeezed on a very tiny make-up bag
of a pregnant woman who had a lion-beard and a glass eye, the left
a stinky pregnant woman, with a coiled crumb-crocodile on the womb, dancing or rotating. A self-referencing carrousel.

"Why are you here again?" asked Freckle-speckle to pekka, there, on the mountain, because they had gone up a mountaintop, to flee.
"I am here because of the abyss, have you noticed it yet?" It was growing. And the city was glowing, from the fire.
"Add the human flesh, of course, that makes the best coal these days." Of course, of course, the orange tinge was nothing but the bones.
And all the bird-marrows. Or maybe this or that carpenter or a very fat man.
Freckle noticed, while watching all the things burn and fighting with the rain. "Who do you think will win? My money is on the rain"

It was! all her money was on the rain. She even picked up her leaf-overcoat and a skin-umbrella and walked walked
Towards the city itself and began to write all the eruptions and influxes of the little orange glows.
Also a conspicuous inventory of the goods and bads of the world, on the margins.
But she got lost, when trying to interview this spiral of wasps that had postulated a name to this day, like one of those literary tremors.
But she couldn't hear right, there was a hiss on the back of the rain and on the other side an absorbent pile of musk
and on the other the heartrending cry of a thrush that called a name that could have been hers, but who knows!

So now she was lost and this goat came to offer milk on a very shallow waterbottle.
"This is all I have. I watched one of those sun-scatters and my eyes, well, they became these
nards or yellow tides. Idiot Idiot! So I couldn't stay there, watching the sun.
So I came here, I crossed a bridge and I had to eat a woman with very squidgy thighs, overflowing with fat and lard.
It was horrible. But I was hungry and then then...
Then! too many butterflies came and bit my ears. One of them entered on my left ear.
She (or he) made a raft on the sea of nerves and sinews, there! and it was green with blue, as I remember
so I now can see the plant's suffering with something that cannot be my eyes, because they are fucking nards.
Your overcoat stroke me as a lamenting vineyard so I came
and then found out you were lost. It is so sad...
It is something important you're doing in that page of yours!
My name is Ivan."

She didn't drink the milk. It smelled like pee and outlandish hems.
She decided to sit in a cotton chair and watch the sea.
On her back the woods and the citizen-flesh crackled, ejaculating several phantom proyection, on her milky back.
She fed some fishes and a wrinkly old woman appeared on a wooden vessel, paddling with a palm leaf.
"Won't you buy me something, my dear!
I sell wind. On knots.
I have the best winds there is, say you have to be in Estonia for Wednesday. Doable! You just need my most powerful knots.
I don't sell rain. No. I was expelled from the blue market, you know. It is a rough market.
Not like the green one, but one can never lose its guard."

Freckle bought one of the middle knots. 7 euro.
She bought it thinking of Pekka, it will make a great present, she thought, he loves wind and all the floating tea leaves.
She rode Ivan and went uphill, towards pekka, who had one period of deep listless apathy, leaning on a tree.
"Honey, this is for you!"

And she untied her knot, the whole city bended, as a stormy horizon started to tumble and the hurricane was on it's way.
It was a very strong knot the wind-trafficant had. Pure stuff. No mix. Puffy-puff shit.

They ran for cover. but butt..............!!

[GAGAGO]

Not much Pekka here! Or Aliens !

[AGAG]

The gust took their feet off the ground and soon they rode the wind envelope up to the exosphere, gasping for breath and the sun was scorching all the freckles. The city crumbled in seconds and it looked like mouldy bread from above. It seemed like the end for both Freckle and Pekka since their heads were about to exolode from the negative pressure. But but! in the distance a shine came at just a tiny speck from reaching the speed of light. It was sttrutt who had brought a space suit for pekka. "Fool fool fool!" screamed pekka, from within his suit "Why won't you bring one for freckle?? her head is about to exolode and her freckles are about to pop. Her plait is dishevelled too, you could have brought a comb..." Strutt answered on the ship megaphone "Priorities, dear dear Pekka. We have not enough funds to go making pairs and pairs of space suits. One has costed half of Lithuania's GDP. Not that much, allegedly, but still. You have to make a choice." Indeed he had! He could save freckle but he had to exolode himself. A though choice for an alien. But he knew his destiny and knew what the right choice was. He readily made up his mind.

Freckle was left alone to exolode on the exosphere.. And pekka was abducted on a light sphere towards the moon, again. Freckle had some minutes of conscious-time and her freckles turned blue like the ocean. She could float for a while and she saw El Salvador from her palely drawn orbit. She had a last thought about his dear Poet. She was fainting... But but, again, a shy light was on it's way. It was... yes! the poet, that had been summoned. He rode a silver-cloud at full speed because his freckle radar, made by Hubble, had indicated a very red alert. Redder than the mad-face. And of course, he was ready to help. He picked her up and they went back to the skin of Earth on a cloud whim. She could breath precious air and her freckles went back to normal, she wouldn't exolode today!

"I have this fruit I have left in this tree" said the poet "an errand...

[Stratowarius]

I have to do first, then we can take a taxicloud to Finland.

"OH dear, you saved my life and have given me ripe mangos, yum,yum to mango and life. And now I can tell you that Pekka has left his farm and all his German goats to you, so hurry with your errand. I would like to see the place. Your place now"!

They went to Russ-Finn border, but there was chaos. A neighbour told them that the Dinorex fell down there some days ago. He was unharmed but hungry and when he saw the German goats he started to drool like an ignorant fool. Here he had both lunch and dinner served.

But, but, the goats had just started to walk on two legs with helmets, marching boots and loaded riffles. Boom Kaboom. Huhhuh the rexdinner started to shoot at Rex. They missed all, but one shot in the Rex-butt and it irritated him enormously (the Rex also) and he was already veryvery hungry and angry, so he attacked with an horrendous roar. "Wroouuueuooyaaee".

Swish, swish. He swallowed two goats in one gulp without chewing, so they fell unharmed in the big Rex-stomach. Bom bom, the riffles went off. Two big holes in the stomach and that didn't make Rex any softer. He roared again, so all livings in a five-mile-radie shivered in their souls.

Gosh how angry he was, when he saw his own blood gush out. The German goats loaded again! Bom bom! Two new holes and that was the end of this new Dino-generation. The light of life in the Rexeyes faded and his tyrannosaurusbody fell to the ground. Then! Huh! It started to change slowly. The two shoothappy German goats jumped out and looked bewildered at the Rex. He became smaller and smaller and he got a ragged goatfur. And horns. And there he suddenly was. Goethe the beareaten goat from Mount Baker...

He still had his universe-cells and what would he be this time.

Freckle and the poet looked at each other. Was this a new adventure for them? Or? Or?...

[GAGAGO]

And where have yoou put Pekka now?

[ÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖÖ]

Pekka is, as far as I know, deported to Excessa.

Freckle and the Poet looked at Goethe again. He had opened his goateyes and määäade. "Oh, good morning Poet. Just the one I dreamt about when I visited the Moon. I was big there, but the foodbox was empty. Here I can see a lot of well-fed Germans marching in their boots"!

And now he changed. Again! He jumped up on his two hindlegs and looked almost human. German human at least. He came close to the Poet, that tried to hide behind Freckle.

"Don't you dare to touch my best friend,",said Freckle, flamingly red under her freckles. "He is your Fuhrer now and you have to obey him".

The poet tried to look Hitlerish. He made his Hitler-hairstyle and put two fingers on his upperlip. His right arm went up in the sky as he roared.

"Heil gute Goatleute! Marschiren, Marschiren! Ein, zwei, ein zwei"...

The goats around the farm were alerted and surprised. A Fuhrer? Now it would be order and discipline there! German order!

The Poet grew in his new role and he started to scream as he had seen Hitler do on Youtube. "We need more raum, more lebensraum here and we can invade a bit of Russland close by. So come on Aliens We marschiren nach Russland"!

Freckle felt like some Eva Braun and looked at the new Poet, with big admiring eyes. "Wow,wow, aber doch, you are really something"!

"Jaja, aber ich must have some boots, those sneakers will not do...

But but...

[GAGAGO]

Fun but no Pekka. I am Pekkaaddicted so please could you not let him in some way come back to us. Please. :luv1:

[Stratowarius]

Oh dear! Swish! There went my lunch.

I sent your post to Pekka over UWW (Universal Wide Web) and got a rapid answer.


Hi there GAGAGO! Thank you for your kind post. I really appreciate my fans and I understand that I, strangely enough, have them mostly on the Stratoforum. So I will try to save you all under the invasion.

I have run away from the Earth-banishment on Excessa. Yes I have! I don't love Hester4 anymore, and my son is a monster. But I couldn't return as Pekka Nurmi and since I have given the farm to the Poet and "Eva Braun", I can't live there either.

So I took a new identity, Vito Soprano, and moved to Italy. I have a big suitcase with money, printed in Excessa, so I bought an inconspicuous(?) farm on Sicily, where I will breed German goats of the same clean race as in Finland.

I only have four now and I call them Benitos. They look a little patetic, when they march along the beach, but it will be much better on Monday, when they get their helmets and boots on, and company from the new 27 ones (Duck-duck-pasta with spinach and basilica).

I have a friend here, also an alien, called Silvio and we are planning the European invasion. He is, sorry to say, a bit easily distracted, and I may have to make him understand the seriousness of the operation, by putting some horsehead in his bed.

This was all for now and I will be happy if you write to me.

Ciao, ciao, GAGAGO.

[GAGAGO]

But my dear Warius. Why did you kill Pekka? Why. I do not like maffiosos. Hear!

[AGAG]

Warius, the maffioso, walked through a warehouse wearing a tweed jacket and a cane. Red blood smeared on his nose and fingers. Maffiosos tend to dress formally and with hats, but Warius didn't have a hat, he had a hair-net and he left a butcher knife on the kitchen before going outside. He cleaned his hands, very thoroughly, but with a grin that almost broke the face. Or the system in which a regular grin is embedded. He also whistled a jolly tune, in contrast with the noise of water running. After leaving his clothes in a fry cleaner, he went to his big big bathroom to lose the hair-net and the cane. And to put more casual clothes on. There was a black plastic bag on the living room all the time, which almost made little squeaking noises. He went outside hastily because he had an important meeting in the most renown tea-shop in helsinki...

"Hi freckle! It's been a while!" said the poet. he was sitting on an empty table "How pretty this town is on the mornings. I saw 6 dogs on my way here and... Oh! There's a red spot on your nose, or is it just one of your mischievous freckles? haha, you never know" She let out a sly smile and wiped her nose. It was a rather large stain and definitely not a freckle. "Jaja it must be some of those molten gummy bears I had this morning. They make great breakfast when mixed with milk." Their lunch came early and they had a nice conversation about finnish bears. Apparently freckle had had an encounter with a grizzly and she threw it off it a mountain, on the solistice, barehanded.

Two tall policemen entered the tea shop, incomprehensively named "the caker shop" according to a bright neon sign. The cops seemed distraught and talked in their walkie-talkies "unit 4, we have found another body, slash wounds on the rear and front ends. Forensics say they might have used cheese-graters. I repeat. CheeseGraters, unknown brand. Also, 15" knife incision on the butt. 15"! did you copy that? that's like 20cm. And now this makes 7 victims. Ask everyone, we must stop this man. We have sent a preliminary sketch of the suspect on your W-Ts. Be alert."

They went directly to the poet/freckle table. "Hello! There's an on-going investigation. Have you seen this man" The poet seemed to catch something on the picture "This seems like.. hrrm.. like the following person I know and that I will mention right away...!

[GAGAGO]

PLease please let it be Pekka. Please.

[GAGAGO]

I am waiting!

[Stratowarius]

It is a bit difficult to go on with the story, when it risks to be rewritten by a German porrsite. But fearless challenge is half won.


"Oh, dear! He doesn't look as Pekka. At all. But HUH, it is Pekka-Vitos first hitman, Silvio Corleo! Called Gangsta-Silvio"! said the Poet.

"HUUUH, Gangsta-Silvio? The most ruthless hitman in the western world. Is there maybe a gangsta-war coming up now", said the biggest of the two big uniforms.

"Ja, huh", said the other, smaller one. "I have heard there is an uproar in Sweden about a Finnish guitarraguy and we have to alert all our forces"

Out they went. But soon the door flew open. Again! And there he was. The Hitman himself. He had a pistola in each hand and he pointed at the Poet and Freckle.

"Up, up, you two ignorant fools. I have order to escort you to the goatfarm at the border and your life at cake and -tea-houses have to end. You are a Fuhrer now, Poet, and the bohemian life is over".

He pushed the two out to his big black gangsta-car, with an ugly scarfaced chauffeur, and he looked at the pathetic pair. Freckle with bear-riven nose and undone plaits. The Poet with an adhesive moustache and a sad Hitler-hair-style, but with shining a bit to small German boots.

"You don't look much as a Fuhrer-pair", he (the Hitman) said.

"No, I hate those fucking goats", said the Poet.

"Me too! I hate the goats, I mean", echoed Freckle, "I have nothing to do with this goatfarm. At all!".

"So, so", said the Hit-gangsta, "So we can maybe make a deal? I would love to be a Fuhrer in Finland. I am tired of Italy and my darling here, the Guiseppe-chauffeur, and I could have a nice, a little less, gangsta-life here in the North".

"Good idea", said the Poet and Freckle in chorus, "But please don't tell Pekka-Vito".

But who, I say who, was waiting at the farm?

HUUUH!

[GAGAGO]

Do not worry. I am here for you.

[Stratowarius]

Pekka Fucking of course!

"So here you are at last", he said,"You, Poet, don't take your Fuhrer-responsibility seriously. It is NOT enough to put on a false mustach and comb your hair in a Hitler-fringe. The feeling must come from your heart and you have to learn your goats German discipline".

A strong loud-bang was heard and a beaming-cloud landed in front of them. Hundreds of Italian goats jumped about and it was Humphrey Bogarts order to Strutt that arrived. The confused goats didn't understand a thing. They were in the middle of an ein-zwei-stomp-march and Strutt had taken them on zwei, so suddenly they were in the green-grey Finnish wilderness, wondering what on heck had happened to the Sicily-beach. Then they recognized their Fuhrer, Pekka Fucking, and mäade an unison hail.

But, but. There was one Fuhrer more. Two Fuhrers! And one of them with mustach. Huh! Who was the real one?

And now Gangsta-Silvio came forward. He had decided to be the Finnish Fuhrer and grabbed the Poets fake-mustach and put it on himself, as he roared in German.

"Aber hail there, alien-goats. I am your new Fuhrer. Hören Sie auf...

The goats were now close to a nervous collapse. Three Fuhrers!?!

Pekka, that didn't know about the deal between Gangsta-Silvio and the Poet, protested.

"No, no, what is this, Gangsta? You are my hitman and no Fuhrer. At all! You are supposed to hit the people I want you to hit and not to babble a lot of shit".

Gangsta took up his two pistolas and pointed at Pekka

"And who, I say who, do you think I will hit now Pekka, if I not can be the goatfuhrer here. Guiseppe wants to be Eva Brown, in our Finnish paradise. Can you capischsce (He lisped when he was upset) that, Pekka Fucking Alien"?

Poor FRECKLE was terrorstricken and the Poet took her hand.

"Let us leave this place now. I got Gangsta-Silvios big car in exchange for the Fuhrer-job, so we can drive to the nearest cake-house, for some tea. No, no, not mine...

But, but now...

[Stratowarius]

The Poet, that had a new driving-licence, thought he drove to Helsinki. But the road got smaller and smaller and the road-signs stranger and stranger.

"Huh, this can't be Finland", said Freckle, "I have never heard of a place called Micromoskowpockapoo. It sounds Russian"!

And Russian it was. In the middle of the road stood suddenly two very ugly and threatening Micromoscowpockapooish Kraschna-mafioso with kalashnikows. They made stopsigns and the poet got Salvador-panic and did what the Kraschna-mafioso didn't expect. He accelerated and the big gangsta-car drove straight at the two kalashni-cowboys. Boom Kaboom! Stone dead! Two tenpoints in one shot.

"Vojne, vojne", said Freckle after a mile. "We better go back to Finland. The same way and hope they are still dead and that the other Micromoskowpockapoos haven't shown up".

The two were still very dead on the road. But, but they had company! No, not more mafiosos but four big wolves and two even bigger bears that fought over the unexpected, still warm meal.

The Poet got panic. Again! And boom kaboom there were only one bear and two wolves left. And they were suddenly best friends and attacked the poor black car.

But ha ha! It was an Italian specialbuilt gangsta-car for transport of delicate-skinned brutes, so they could only scratch a little on the armor-plate and show their sharp teeth in the windows.

But it was scary enough, in the middle of nowhere.
"Drive, drive Poet, if your life is dear to you. Fast, fast...

But the car didn't move! The gas-meter showed nil...

[AAAAAAAAAA]

Crash, slash, splash, smash, the vermin vehemently violated the varnish of the vehicle, as the once pleasant pistola-packing poet failed to find his firearm. Freckle cried and she swallowed her pride; she had in her mind, already died, Butt the frenzied freckle's frown was turned upside down when the wolves broke in, and to her chagrin, did NOT eat the girl with the father from Berlin. Away flew her grief- to her disbelief, they cuddled on her lap, gave a gentle yap, begging unprovoked, their bellies to be stroked.