Okay, so this will just be fun. I don’t really care where the theme goes; much like Curt’s word association game. Except you get to use two to three lines or so. Maybe a paragraph. Maybe one section of dialogue. Whatever you feel like adding to make this go in any weird direction, while keeping to whatever plot and theme that is created througout. It should still be a story, no matter how silly we wanna get with it, let’s keep it as it would be if you were to read it straight through.

Stipulation: ONLY URBIS MEMBERS ARE ALLOWED TO BE USED AS CHARACTERS!!!

K….

Watching the ri – fucking – diculous movie with Karma, Clair_D rolled her eyes. Is this really what Americans find amusing? Maybe I can get out of here and pretend to have an emergency. And then she knew what she must do for entertainment. She quickly dialed TnD and invited him over.

“As long as you don’t hump the couch again, I don’t think Karma will care.” She raised her eyebrows in question to Karma who only nodded. TnD was one funny Llama, but he did tend to get carried away on the couch cushion, costing her a fortune in furniture cleanings. Threatening him with Llama rape if he misbehaved, Claire_D hung up the receiver and said he promised he would be good.

TnD was happy to hear from Claire especially since it meant seeing karma again. Something about Karma got to him. It was a good feeling. Like everything was going to be alright. Though at times, when Karma was not in a good mood, nothing ever went right for anyone around her. He brushed out his llama lana (wool in spanish) and braided his tail and made sure to chew some of sweet smelling mint laced Alfalfa squares DCAllen had sent him. He will have to ask DC to pick some up during his recent trip around the world.

TnD walked out to meet his friends and ran into CDNSurfer.

cdnsurfer was maybe going to become an important person some day, a scientist, a president, a couch tomato… But the stars were shining pink that day. tnd watched peacefully, chewing on his cinnamon flavored celery stick, as the giant 2-ton piano made a messy blood-ball of cdnsurfer, making his last words remain ”...and then I opened a 3rd can of vaseline…” tnd could have sworn that he saw, with his peripheral vision, something pink and also fluffy flashing over the rooftops. But there was no time to waste on possible alfalfa-induced hallucinations – cdnsurfer had to be resurrected and the only llama-friendly-witch in town was the illustrious bravis.

Bravis, with her reciprocating talons and magnificently salty gums, announced her deep-seated fear of llamas after ten years of llama witch-hunting. tnd lurched behind the sofa, knocking karma to the floor, who turned out to be a llama hiding inside a prosthetic woman costume. Swooping down to inspect the scene, the haggard, scaly ox-priest jebozid (posing as a crime-fighting bunny) performed an exorcism on the moaning sarcophagus of cdnsurfer, who rose from his tomb midst a squall of oxybjork music. DCAllen started to dance like a man possessed, so cdnsurfer performed a second exorcism. Squarehopper (emerging from behind a nearby camel) cleared his throat to say something very important…

“That Jebozid is no bunny, he’s a phoney! Call in my credentials, and you’ll see that I should be performing this exorcism!” His air of authority gave his words an authentic ring. To himself, he smiled, knowing they would never find out his hidden agenda. DCAllen was only drunk, but instead of scaring the devil out of him, Squarehopper would put the devil into him; and blame it on a foriegn culture which DCAllen had recently visited. He would handle those pesky Llamas later.

He took one long stride forward, and a short one to the right. Then, he took another long forward-stride, with a short step to the left. He proceeded straight ahead in his zigzagging way of motion, the rest of the gathered group, looking to one another and shrugging in confusion, followed.

It was quite a spectacle, and trismugistus arrived just in time to observe it. His first thought was…

“Hey – the Electric Slide!” Trismugistus began to mirror Square’s moves as well, but added a few of his own and few taught to him by his old Sensei Avedis.

One move in particular, which involved twisting his arm totally around, brought back a memory. He saw Avedis looking solemnly down on him with that fatherly stare of his. “Don’t forget to bend the wrist? Do you want to lose your arm?”

Blue Eyes sidled in, wearing nothing but slouched cowboy boots and a pink neckerchief emblazoned with an image of a red-eyed rabbit. “Shouldn’t you be “Square” dancing?”, he asked SquareHopper, a smirk sweeping across his sun-burned face. “Who the Hell are you!?”, SquareHopper demanded. Blue Eyes rummaged through his pocket, withdrawing a mahogany pipe packed perfectly with premium alfalfa. Borrowing a light from TnD, he spoke. “I’m Blue Eyes; Jebozid’s suerhuman sidekick.” Violet smoke billowed out from the upturned corners of his mouth. “I believe you already have met my trusty steed, TnD”, he stated, running his fingers through the rough hair on the back of TnD’s neck, a low humming sound emanating from the llama’s throat.

At this point you are probably wondering how Blue Eyes could produce a pipe from his pocket when all that he is wearing are cowboy boots and a neckerchief. It is quite simple. Blue Eyes is a cross between a human and a kangaroo…

Avedis, who had been silently observing the proceedings from a corner, knew what he had to do.
There was an off license (liquor store for the US denizens) on the corner and, conveniently placed next to it, an all night pharmacy.
Upon his return, he quickly searched the kitchen until he found a large blue plastic bucket.
“Ah, that will do nicely”.
He proceeded to first pour in six pints of extra strong stout, then the crushed contents of six small glass jars.
Stirring vigorously, he smiled to himself.
There should be enough vitmin B in that little concoction to reduce the effects of the LSD Bravis had carelessly, and totally by accident, dropped into the sweet and sour Biltong stew she had prepared in DCAllen’s honor.
Avedis smiled benignly, “Things should come closer to normality soon, once I get them to drink some of this.”

How wrong he was….

…the window glass disintegrated, the room engulfed by the glass fog as jebozid all covered in black blood hovered across the room shrieking: “Give me back my marbles!!!!”
And a horrifying moment it was – a pink behemoth with lavender chicken-wings, glowing with power of thousand rakija-fueled suns, while holding the ultimate instrument of chaos – his infamous PVC feather duster of Armagnac. avedis knew there was only one thing that could maaaybe distract the enraged beast – grabbed his Motorola and pressed #4 on the speed dial. The voice on the other side whispered in a Clinteastwoody voice:…

...”Do you feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?” Urbis-Steve’s voice crackled over the phone. His one-bedroom loft in the middle of the Bronx had recently been renovated. On the walls were pictures of nude llama photographs, mixed with bunnies and kittens in weird positions, including the traditional meditation stance. A glass of Southern Comfort in his hand, the condensation running down the side and over his calloused hands, “Tell me, avedis. Are ya feelin’ lucky? Because that’s the only thing that’s going to get you out of this situation. That and a stick, a toothpick and a rubber band. But, that’s MacGyver. Damn television.”

Flipping the phone closed, Urbis-Steve went over to the door, hoping for a solution to the problem. Only, when he opened the door, he saw…

Nelson1 who disappeared off the face of Urbis to pursue a career in Warbling. “Nelson1!” exclaimed Urbis-Steve “Where have you been?

Nelson1 cocked her head to the side and in a heavy ??? (can’t remember what part of England she’s from) accent, “Urbis-Steve come with me.”

Urbis-Steve was concerned for his old-time friend, she didn’t look right. But he had other friends that needed his help.

“Nelson1, I would love to, but Avedis is waiting for me… it seems a large Pink rab…” Urbis-Steve’s voice was cut off when Nelson1 grabbed him quickly by tthe throat, lifted him up a good 3 feet, and stated “Urbis-Steve come with me.”

“Ok… Ok… just put me down. I’ll come with you.”

As Urbis-Steve followed Nelson1 one out of his posh building, he was looking for a way to escape when he saw a glimmer of hope. That was in the personage of…

...Harold_P, sitting on a nearby window ledge.

“Nelson1, release Urbis-Steve at once, there is something that concerns us all.”

Nelson1 hesitated, she had her needs, she wanted them filled.
But she knew that Harold_P had never been one to interfere without just cause.
She frowned at him, “What Harold_P, what is it you feel of greater importance than my needs?”

Harold_P sighed, then took an even deeper breath. He hated to put a name to the evil, the destroyer of all that is good and true in this world.

However, needs must….

“Triad publishing are making a bid for Urbis! There is but one hope – we must find Gorbachev”

“Why Gorbachev?” Harold_P asked suspiciously, knowing all to well that Gorbachev was a bit of a mad scientist, no matter how much of a genius the man was.

“Because, only he can reverse the effects of what avedis thought was LSD spread throughout Planet Urbis. It was actually a new drug that Gorbachev himself created. Most of the inhabitants of Urbis are infected unknowingly. And if we can get these citizens back to normal, then they will be capable warriors to scare away Triad Publishing and their golden chariots forever!”

“Harold_P makes quite an argument, Nelson1. I understand that you have fallen off of the planet, but the needs of many outweigh the needs of one. Once Planet Urbis has prevailed, we can bring you back to the planet safely, and for good.”

Nelson1 hung her head. She knew Urbis – Steve was right.

“Attend to the more urgent business. But please do not forget about me!” Her plea was soft and weak and broke his heart. How could she think that he would ever forget her? A woman that can lift you 2 feet off the ground leaves an impression. A woman that would do that to The Emperor of the Planet, was indeed, very hard to forget. Or to not love. His heart had betrayed him; it was even breaking laws now. His own laws.

To Harold_P he said, “I have to go now. I’ll send a messenger when I locate Gorbachev. In the meantime, you should go…