Wordforge: The Voyage Zoned, Part III

(Sorry I haven't had a chance to do this earlier, Reality keeps getting in the way and preventing me from doing more than the usual sniping attacks)

Cut To:
(TNZ. It's late. It's dark. And Tafkats and Borgminister are leaning against a wall, drinking Knotts Berry Farm after a hard day of wanting to oppress people, but not being allowed to)

Tafkats: I'm tellin' you, man...one of these days we're gonna lord it over this place.
Borgminister: Yeah. We're gonna bring order to the world. With an iron fist.
Tafkats: Perhaps we can write an Act....a Patriotic Act...where those loyal to us will Obey or be branded as Traitors.
(Whoosh of air, then brilliant square of light appears in midair, but Tafkats and Borgminister don't notice because they've been squished by something large and invisible)
Elwood (steps out of hatch): Did anyone hear something squish when we landed?
Cassandra (looks at her PDA): I am reading trolling off in that direction...about twenty kilometers distant. (steps on what's left of Tafkats) Ew.
Elwood: Be sure you wipe that off your feet before you step back aboard the ship. Now everyone, we're back in a time of free speech and harsh opinions. These people are bound to be stupid AND violent. (looks at Cassandra) It's a given they've never seen this particular dual of yours before.
(Cassandra thinks for a minute. Looks at Diacanu. Rips handful of hair from his head and makes a mustache out of it)
Diacanu: I want that back when you're done with it! (whimpers)
Elwood: Nick! Are you coming?
Nick (emerges from ship): No time for recreation sir. Got a problem with the database.
Storm: Is that bad?
Nick: Well...yeah. Without the database we're dead in the water. Alone in the dark. Like trying to argue with Enterpriser when a mod's present.
Elwood: So we can't even go home?
Nick: Nope. And in a few hours we'll all be naked and drunk in a fraternity house.
Elwood: Just from a database failure?
Nick: No, that's how we usually handle a hopeless situation.
Elwood: Right. (sighs) Fine. Well, reckon we'll handle that too. Let's go. (Leads everyone into the dark, as the rats come out to claim the squished remains)

Cut To: Downtown TNZ. People are yelling at each other. Flames travel back and forth. Newbies scream as they burst into flame.
Storm: I love the smell of napalm in the morning. It's...
Lanzman: The smell of victory?
Storm: Actually, it's kind of a turn on.
Elwood: Okay. Here's the plan. Storm and Nick and Order will handle the database problem. TheLurker, Diacanu and Lanzman will figure out how to contain the trolls. And Cassandra and I will try to get hold of the trolls. (They start to mill about) And for God's sake, keep your receipts! We're on an expense account, you know. (Turns to Cassandra as they wander off) Okay, Cassandra, here we are, looking for a couple of humpback trolls in the old TNZ. Where do we start?
Cassandra: Actually, I have a theory...(looks at PDA) If I carry the three and inject the political quotient of warwanking...
Elwood (Looks off to the horizon, where a glowing holographic sign says, AMERICA NEEDS MORE ENSLAVED CANADIAN BROWN PEOPLE SO WE CAN KILL THEM FOR SPORT) : Uh, Cass...I think if we follow that sign, we'll find a couple of humpback trolls named Dayton and Enterpriser.
Cassandra (looks): Oh, you're good.

Cut To: A normal looking office, where a nondescript man in glasses is working at a computer. Secretary comes in.
Secretary: Uh, sir, there's a gentleman here to see you. (Gets knocked aside as Rucker comes in, heavily armed, dressed like Rambo. He's followed by a nervous Nick and a slightly less enthusiastic Order2Chaos, who is dressed like The Terminator)
Rucker: Hi. (blows hole in ceiling)
Nick: Is this necessary?
Rucker: (shoots computer) Just getting his attention, is all. Now, Mr. Gates, we need you to fix a computer problem.
Bill Gates: Does this have to do with those Win 98 problems?
Nick: Er, actually, we need you to fix a database problem.
Gates: I'd love to, but your friend just blew up my computer.
Rucker: Um...okay...so you get ANOTHER computer. And make it an Apple this time. A Mac.
Gates: Is that what your database is compatible with?
Rucker: No, I need a fuckin' chat program for a Mac, so people can't talk about me behind my back.
Order: This is going to be a long day, isn't it?
Nick: As always.

Cut to: A porn shop.
TheLurker: My, this is certainly...interesting...(watches man dressed as Conan go by) ...but what are we doing here?
Diacanu: This is where you get stuff to contain trolls.
Lanzman (looks at TV, where two women are doing unspeakable things) Is there a bunk nearby?
(Pthalo Blue Moon comes up. She is topless): Can I help you?
Diacanu (swallows gum): er, homina, guh....
TheLurker: I think we're looking for some porn.
PBM: You've come to the right place. The Blue Moon Porn Emporium carries everything. What kind of porn do you need?
Diacanu: Der. Grr. Muh.
TheLurker: I think my friend is saying, the dirtiest porn imaginable. Don't know why, though.
Lanzman: Maybe it's because the worst humpback trolls are also right wing fundies?
Diacanu (bites through tongue, nods): Gur!
PBM: Surely. But it'll cost you....

Cut To: The TNZ Institute for Trollian Studies. A tour is in progress.
T'Bonz: We here at the Institute are dedicated to the preservation of trolls.
Elwood: All of them?
T'Bonz: Just some. The ones who spam the most and bribe us the most. The rest we don't care that much about.
Cassandra: That seems logical.
T'Bonz: It's all about the money. Now here, in their special containment vessel, are our star performers...Enterpriser and Dayton3.
(Within we see Dayton and Enterpriser, furiously typing at keyboards)
T'Bonz: Of course, we are spending a great deal of effort to interpret their ideas, but thus far, no success. We keep them in this containment vessel where we can safely harness the energy of the flames that come at them. But with all our efforts, we can't really figure out what they're talking about.
Pamela Lauren: Maybe they're talking to that man who looks like a woman with a funny mustache!
(Inside the tank, we see Cassandra sticking a wet finger into Enty's ear)

Cut to: A sidewalk. Elwood and Cassandra are walking along. Elwood's shirt is ripped and he sits down on a nearby rock and cups his chin in his hand.
Elwood: Yup...that went well. We're lucky we weren't permabanned on the spot.
Cassandra: My efforts were successful. Both Dayton and Enty are willing to cooperate. They seem excited for the opportunity to travel to a time where they won't be hunted.
(A Hummer pulls up. Driving it is T'Bonz)
T'Bonz: I hope you two weren't upset when the boys took you out back and roughed you up.
Elwood: Happens all the time. And your lack of gray hair looks terrific.
T'Bonz: I suppose you're trying to charm me into giving you some information about my trolls.
Elwood: Not at all. (coughs) I am merely entranced by your beauty.
Cassandra:
T'Bonz: I like suckups. Get in and let me give you a ride.
(They get in)
T'Bonz: Let me tell you right now, though, I won't tolerate flaming of my trolls.
Elwood: What if I told you I could take those trolls to a place where nobody would be allowed to flame them.
T'Bonz: That would be wonderful, just so long as TNZ kept getting the traffic they generate. What place would that be?
Cassandra: Enterpriser is Christian.
Truck: SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH!
Elwood:
T'Bonz: How could you know that? Nobody knows that!
Cassandra: Enty does.
Elwood: Enty...is a Christian?
Cassandra: No. He's Christian the owner of TBBS.
Elwood:
T'Bonz: Your friend here is right. Enty IS Christian...and he's getting upset by all the flaming he's getting. So if you're going to take him somewhere where that won't happen, you'll have to do it quick.
Cassandra: Perhaps you and Elwood should discuss that over a romantic Italian dinner.
Elwood:

To Be Continued!

Christian is Enty?

I knew it all along!