Friday, February 25, 2011

Social Experiment

By the way, I have decided to conduct a social experiment. I will send a poem by e-mail to a select few people. They will send it to as many people as they can think of. Then hopefully, they will send it to as many people as they can think of.
Hopefully, after many rounds of that, it will all go nice and end up to Barack Obama, or Her Majesty, or even back to me!
Anyway, if the e-mail goes to you, you know what to do.

Mysterious Visits

Okay, so here I am again.
Last time I checked, I had 667 visits. Then I had 690 visits. This probably means I'm upto 693-5. But really, where did I get the 23 views?
Natron, do you know anything about that? I certainly don't.

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Dymo Returns

It's been a long while since we last saw Dymo...

Archibald Scribbins knocked on the door five times.

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG
No answer.
"Is anybody in there?" he called.
"No there isn't!" someone called. "Go away! I feel sulky."
"There's nobody in there." Archie told Frank, the marmoset hanging on his shoulder. "I guess he should know whether there are anybody in there. He's in there, he should know best."
Frank slapped him in the face for such faulty logic. "He's in there you monkey!" (Yes. Frank talks. He came from somewhere foreign and foreigners do strange things to marmosets.)
"Ah, right." Archie sighed. Animals. They wouldn't know anything about logic would they?
"I'm coming in!" He barked. "I will open the door."
And he did. It creaked. It creaked the way a door of a house of a person of a sad disposition should.
"Arrgh!" the person in the middle yelled. "No respect for PRIVACY!!!"
"I'm sorry!" Archie babbled. "I didn't mean to!" Frank slapped him again forbeing so pathetic.
"Well don't do that again!" Dymo said. "Who're you?"
"I I I I'm Archibald. Scribbins. Scribbins. Yes Scribbins."
"And I'm Frank." Frank said quite nonchalantly.
"Well Scribbins." Dymo said. "What a stupid name your parents gave you for your first name. I mean, Scribbins will work for a last name, but a first name? That's cruelty. Bet you've been teased in school. 'Scribby! Scribby! He's all Scribbly!' I pity you Scribbins. I'm sure my sister married a Scribbins."
"Um, Scribbins is my last name."
"Well! Knock my hat off. Scribbins is not my last name. What a coincidence!"
"Is it?" Archie asked, getting a little suspicious of Dymo.
"Why are you here?" Dymo demanded suddenly.
"I I've got a note. From my mum. Um, your sister." He handed the letter.
Dymo read very quickly:

Dear Dymo

I'm sure you will ---- in -- ------ well. I ----- --- worked -- - ---------- at -------- Electrical Robots. ------ is ---- interested in -------- and ----- like to learn ---- ---.
- ---- -- leave him at your place ----- - ---- -- surgery on my kidney. - will be in hospital for - ------.
-------,

Amy


What it really said was:


Dear Dymo

I'm sure you will take in my Archie well. I heard you worked as a technition at Harvey's Electrical Robots. Archie is very interested in robotics and would like to learn from you.
I have to leave him at your place while I have my surgery on my kidney. I will be in hospital for 6 months.

Regards,

Amy


"Ah" Dymo said after reading it properly the second time. "You've come to the wrong place."
"Why?" Archibald asked. "You're Dymo aren't you?"
"Sure am. But I don't work at Harvey's. Trevor does. I empty the long drops at tramping grounds. I probably get more pay than Trevor though."
"What! So I'm supposed to get to Trevor's? But I don't have transport!"
"And I hate busses." Frank joined in.
Gyro nodded sympathetically.
"I could send you to Trevor." Dymo said. "Only..."
"Only what?".
"Trevor had a terrible accident."
"What happened?"
"He invented the Terminator. The Terminator killed him, went into the future where the factories are better, started multiplying, then went off to stop a Revolution that was supposed to happen in the farther future."
"Supposed to?"
"Yeah, only Trevor invented a time machine before and knew this was going to happen. So before he died, he went to the middle future, ran over Termy on his Harley Davidson, stopped the factory, and came back to the present, which is our past, and then after a year or so, he died after he invented the Terminator, which went to the future, and started a factory..."
"I get it. So he's dead. But do you have the time machine?"
"Yeah, only I don't use it for winning the lottery. So don't expect that."
"NO!" Archibald exclaimed. "We could tell Trevor not to go back, and instead go to our time!"
"That won't work." Dymo said. "The times and events aree set. Whatever we do, it will not change what has, is, or will happned, happening, or happen. It's no use. I've tried before."
"We can try again." Archie said.
"No we can't." Frank said. "I hate travelling. I even hate walking."
"Exactly!" Dymo said. "It'll be a long trip. Trip to the past."
Gyro liked the sound of that. He liked long trips because sooner or later, Dymo got bored of his music and put on Gyro's music.
Archibald dashed off to the garage. Everyone followed.
"Where's the machine?"
Dymo pointed at the controls. Which kind of looked like the garage door control. "The whole garage is the time machine."
Gyro started fiddling with the controls. Loud noises started booming from the walls. The lights startred flickering. Some pieces from a large Ming Dynasty vase Archie didn't notice before started assembling itself. The radio started playing songs that were "so yesterday".
Then everything went still.
Everything went black.
The lights came back on.
There was another Dymo and another Gyro.
"Who're you?" A Dymo asked.
"I'm you only I'm three months older." another Dymo said nonchalantly.
"So I'm coming back here three months from now?" the first one said.
"Yup. Your nephew's gonna visit as well. It's his fault".
"Ah, I see you have visitors".
"He made me."
"It's my job to say that."
"Not yet."
And so the conversation between two Dymos went.
Archie stepped outside the garage.
It was all red and grey. Cyborgs trooped everywhere. Birds were replaced by spy crows. Grass was covered by concrete.
Everything was industrialised. And a man was riding a bike.
A Terminator yelled from the top of a building, "Stop him!".
The present Dymo came out. "Ooh, then he remembers all Terminators are still in production."
"Wait!" the robot yelled. He jumped down from the building, stepped in front of the biker, then got blown into lots and lots of little, sharp, evil, cunning pieces. Well, it wasn't so cunning now, but evil is set in substance.
The biker braked. He gazed at the garage.
"Oh..." he said.

To Be Continued

This is Dymo

About Me

My photo
New Zealand
He has many ambitions, some of which include art, while others include food. The common feature of all his ambitions is that they involve him staying at home. This comic is one of them.

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