PINKELTJE VI
~ARKA.FIL~
>>> Pinkeltje Part VI : The Heroic Saga Continues ! <<<

Good morning to all of my dear readers. As you might have 
noticed some time ago, I have been editing a plethora of stories 
inspired upon Pinkeltje, a true Dutch youth hero. Ever since I 
started editing this maddeningly boring saga, I have encountered 
some cultural nobodies from all over the world who did not even 
know who Pinkeltje is, was and will be. For those illiterates, I 
have composed the following summary of Pinkeltje's life. 
Non-morons may scroll down to more interesting parts of the 
story.

In the very beginning, Pinkeltje was a very happy midget. He was 
the leading actor in books and films such as "Pinkeltje and the 
Wolf", "Pinkeltje in Giants' Land" and "Pinkeltje goes for a 
walk". However exciting this life was for a midget, Pinkeltje 
eventually got bored by the childish tone of writing by his 
manager (Prick Laan). He searched many a year for a new manager, 
eventually finding not only one, but three. These three were the 
magnificent Mantra, OTM and Havoc. In his search for stardom 
Pinkeltje signed a cut-throat contract with these three 
managers, in which he declared that he would act in any 
commercial production they wanted him to. This led to the sad 
fact that he got abused in books like "Pinkeltje In Outer 
Space", "Pinkeltje Part II: Exploding Mushrooms!" and "Pinkeltje 
ventures into Super Mario Land". Pinkeltje wasn't at all pleased 
with these novels, but because of his contract he had to show up 
in them. After he managed to survive these hard years of 
torture, he decided to start his own audiovisual company. This 
resulted in some of his very best productions, not infected by 
the drunk state of any of his managers. He finally made the big 
money he had always wanted to make with exciting products like, 
for instance, "The Pinkeltje Way of Rolling a Joint" (together 
with a French dude whose pseudo should be in front of an old 
Sicklair computer), "PlayDwarve" and "My Beard is Longer Than 
Yours, Anyway...". This is the summary I wanted to supply you 
with in short, now enjoy the most exciting literary experience 
ever...

Chapter 323, Paragraph 24. Interlude by Mantra/Dawn.

Yes it has happened Pinkeltje found himself a home.. It's in the 
big city of the Hague (In a cardboard box on the Piet 
Heyn-plaza). One morning , a beautiful day in the life of a 
midget, he was talking to his neighbour who was playing with his 
beard, wearing a green shirt, some old Meindl hiking-shoes and, 
ofcourse wearing a pointy red cap (covering his long THICK 
hair.)  That was really crap-man...  They we're discussing the 
social-behaviour of long-haired coders with glasses and wearing 
ATARI-caps. (Hint,hint!) and then ofcourse there was this big 
friendly giant named Wanky! They all liked wanky (huh?) becoz He 
knew how to turn it on. (his Falcy?). also they had two little 
(sickingly) cute kids named At and Ari, although this may not 
seem original , you should consider the state they were in when 
they fulfilled their duty as 3 nice guys conceiving a baby while 
looking at a Falcon running version 9 of the DBA mag, reading 
the first story of our hero PINKELTJE.   To get back to him 
(pinkeltje that is) he was talking to his neighbour (yes HAVOC 
neighbour!!)..

(end of interlude in which at least I can see no meaning)


Chapter 324, Paragraph 1. Stupid justification for the bullshit 
                          coming up.

In a period of utter boredom and mindbogglingly dullness (a bit 
like what one experiences after spending more than 3 minutes at 
a DEEN's supermarket), Pinkeltje decided to travel not only the 
world, the universe and all other matter, but also time. He 
spacewarped into the future and found himself being Luke 
Moonwalker, decided he didn't like it and entered the 
demilitarized zone. From there he spacewarped back to earth and 
became Razor McDonut, a ChocaPic(tm) eating technical annalist 
with a more boring life than Willeke Alberti.


Chapter 324, Paragraph 2. Some bullshit I wrote before and hate 
to trash.

                              WAR STARS

Razor glanced at his screen. The display was full of colours, 
like oil on water. Hundreds of years ago, people would have been 
astonished, and would have called it a plasma. To him, it was 
just another load of data he should process before the day was 
over. The building were he worked was one of the few which was 
built on the normal soil. The newer ones had all been built a 
few miles off the shore, where once the dolphins swam. Not now. 
They had all died because of a mysterious infection, when he was 
a kid. At least, that was what the government made them believe. 
Everyone knew the poor mammals had been poisoned, just like the 
majority of the other extinct species like dogs, whales, cows 
and chicken.

The world was in a bad shape nowadays. Most people, like Razor 
for example, didn't care much and just tried to make most of the 
little they got. The company he worked for made reports on how 
the state of the environment was. Razor just noticed how the 
colors on his screen went brighter through the years. It was an 
unstoppable process, feeding itself until no life was possible 
anymore. As long as he got paid and could afford himself a good 
living, he wasn't about to make the colours darker, or at least 
trying to do so.

At 21:00, he had finished his 5 hour working day. All the data 
processors, like him, could work whenever they wanted to. He 
usually worked during the early evening, so that the night was 
left for his enjoyment. The daytime was too hot to work anyway, 
even in Anchorage, where he lived. He left the building in the 
blinding purple light of the sun, which was about to move over 
the horizon. On entering the tube subway, he lit a cigarette of 
a now extinct animal brand. He left the tube at Quayle Plaza. 
Outside, in the artificial blue light that shone from the street 
lighting, he saw some people rioting near the State Office. 
'Blame it on yourself...' he thought, looking the other way. The 
street people had mutated into dwarflike creatures as an 
effect of long-standing exposure to poisonous gasses in the air. 
Some idiots went to live with the street people, because they 
couldn't think of a more sane way of protesting to the State. 
Arriving at his apartment, he noticed that the HoloCommunicator 
had received several messages. The first one was his 
ex-girlfriend shouting at him because she thought him an 
asshole. Skip. Then his mother. Skip. His girlfriend again. 
Skip. A man from the downtown club asking him to pay his 
contribution (second warning). He passed the message on to his 
computer and gave clearance for the paying operation. Next? Yes. 
John calling in from Italy, stating there were no survivors 
after the last flood. No wonder, those Italians never really 
bothered to maintain their sea-protections. Next?

'Caller not identified as of yet. Proceed anyway?'. Huh? This 
didn't occur that much. He tried to check the origin of the 
call, but the result couldn't have been accurate, because 
Bangladesh had been beneath waterlevel for over two-hundred 
years now. Probably one of those phone-hackers from Europe. He 
decided to take a look at what they had to say, before he went 
outside again. The image opened on his display, and he was 
instantly struck by her beauty. Phew! For her, he'd diss his 
ex-girlfriend, his mother, his cat and his job, all at once... 
Before he recovered from his moment of intense happiness, the 
message was over. 'Replay?' Yeah! There she was. He listened 
carefully. She spoke softly: 'Roger J. 'Razor' McDonut, you're a 
complete asshole. A wimp, a no-good looser without any guts. You 
need money and a pseudo to justify your life. Live your real 
life!'. And he did.


Chapter 325, Paragraph 1. Pinkeltje is a shitbrain.

He ripped off his space-suit, jammed the flexible helmet against 
a wall, from where it bounced back into his face, unfastened his 
fly, forgetting this was a pair of stretch pants he had just 
torn to pieces, realized it too late, still tried fasten his 
non-existing fly again, accidentally rammed into his own balls, 
which hurted, lit a gaslamp to warm his boots, which were 'Nike 
GAS Max Boots' and exploded when he put them in the open fire, 
and unwantingly committed a near-suicide by ramming his head 
into the toilet pot on trying to throw away his burning boots. 
Wat een sukkel.
~PURPER.PAL~