Post by startrekcomsucks on Aug 15, 2012 14:10:38 GMT -5
The Imperium Must Die! by truespock
Chapter One
The Imperium was, by nearly everyone who was anyone's estimation, long, long passed any feeble hope of ever recapturing even a tattered, time-dimmed shred of its former glory. To be sure, many desperate attempts had been made over the yawning chasm of the centuries which stretched between the early days of ubiquitous sharing of the exalted stories and philosophies that had made this particular network of commonly disposed star systems a legend throughout the colonized galaxies, and the current state of its ruined, pathetic remnants, which resembled nothing so much as a half-rotted, evil smelling grisly human corpse out of the taped thrillers from the pre-intergalactic web era.
The stories were no longer mentioned, let alone told, and the philosophies had, to all appearances, been completely forgotten. You see, something which should easily have been foreseen--by anyone with even a modicum of understanding of basic human behavior--but wasn't, happened on virtually the very day in which technology granted us the ability to instantly communicate with anyone and everyone anywhere in the galaxies; we were brought up short, face to leering face with the now inescapable realization that we really didn't like each other very much at all.
We lost no time in descending into viciously warring camps within the supposedly welcoming umbrella of The Whole. One group would insist that only the Original Stories were valid, and that the more modern retellings were blasphemous and insipid. Another would be just as adamant that only the 'rebooted' legend was worth bothering with and that the first versions were cheesy and crudely amusing. Many unsuccessful bids were made by one group or another to wrest control of the Imperium from its variously perceived 'internal enemies' and, although ultimate control of the empire had by now changed hands several times, the expatriated factions never really conceded defeat--preferring instead to split off into an array of satellite empires who were fiercely xenophobic and who were most inclined to summarily execute anyone they caught within their protected borders who might have questioned the local despot in any way.
The Imperium itself had been richly populated at its height, but when the satellite empires began cropping up, it was discovered that there was a difficulty in bringing in enough new members to any given sub-group to make it truly viable for the group leaders. This was because the vast majority of the masses who had left the original system in utter disillusionment and more than a small measure of disgust had simply not bothered to re-align themselves with any of the satellites at all.
There was, however, one thing that irrevocably united each and every one of these incessantly quarreling pseudo-deities who ruled their would-be mini-motherlands with an iron--if inelegant and cloying--fist; to the last man and woman, they all had a not-so-secret yen to retake the Imperium for themselves...and THAT is where our story really begins.
Tune in tomorrow, boys and girls, for the next action-packed installment of...
THE IMPERIUM MUST DIE!
Chapter Two
Corinthian Leat'her, known to his friends (of whom he had none) as Rich, was the smartest guy in any room. He knew this to be true because his mother had had him tested. As a product of late twentieth century genetic engineering, he fancied himself to be a voice crying out in the wilderness, bringing sorely needed wisdom to the recalcitrant and ungrateful masses. It was, by definition, a thankless task, but one to which this most remarkable man had unstintingly dedicated his entire life, in as much as he had never really had anything better to do with it anyway.
Leat'her was often prone to the taking of excessively long naps and, therefore, found it a simple matter to ignore The Coming Of Technology until many years after everyone else in the Imperium had 'logged on' and long since chosen sides. His belated explosion onto the motherland's web was received with all of the customary derision and contempt that he had learned to associate with his 'real world' encounters, but he would not allow this to deter him from rubbing everyones faces in the golden radiance of his unique genius. When you're right, you're right and let the wrong be damned!
The verbal carnage was proceeding apace, with a glorious ongoing analysis of the indisputable truth that god is dead (which nearly everyone disputed) and a spirited personal rant against some backwoods Canadian mental case who relentlessly insisted that Crock and Sprocket were actually gay lovers (way to crap on the Original Stories, Bitch!), until the black and dismal day when Everything Changed.
The awakening of Dumbasturds, who vastly preferred his troll dual, Wallabee, was marked by a series of wholly unprovoked and thoroughly vicious personal attacks on the innocent and noble Leat'her. Unbeknownst to our gallant brainiac, Dumbasturds had for years been telling everyone else in the Imperium that HE was the smartest guy around, but no one believed him because his spelling was atrocious and his style of speaking closely resembled that of an inbred thirteen year old girl who had never so much as seen the inside of a plastic educator. Nevertheless, the sudden appearance of a demonstrably real version of what Dumbasturds had only PRETENDED to be instantly struck fear and outrage into the puling little miscreant's blackened and withered heart, forever cementing the animosity between these two polar opposites, to the very great amusement of the aforementioned rabble whom Leat'her had already thoroughly pissed off anyway with his unrelenting application of the Gauntlet Of Unvarnished Truth.
At length, Dumbasturds began unilaterally declaring that Leat'her was but a liar and a fraud, based largely on the fact that Leat'her also just happened to be a reigning Master at NastyDirtyTalk, and wasn't in the least afraid to use it when sufficiently provoked. In response, Leat'her waved his multiple advanced degrees and stunning I.Q. as evidence of his natural superiority, but all to no avail. Ultimately, Leat'her was forced to retreat in disgrace from his hard won beachhead in the Imperium motherland...but he was far from finished.
Tomorrow, The Coming Of Captain Dunsel The FalseFriend in the next ball-busting installment of...
THE IMPERIUM MUST DIE!
Chapter Three (because it's tomorrow SOMEWHERE in the galaxiesÉ)
Captain Dunsel The FalseFriend was actually far less interested in acquiring bosom buddies, or even associates, than he was in simply amassing Adherents. A supremely paranoid and weak-egoed individual by incontrovertible nature, it was the immediate kiss of death to question either his methods or his motives for any reason whatsoever--especially within the confines of his own private mini-kingdom, where he tolerated only those spineless and forlorn lost souls who would enthusiastically continue to kiss his ass even as he gleefully farted in their faces. In point of fact, the sole and only saving grace of this thoroughly irredeemable man was his cowardly insistence on delegating his own dirty work into the waiting hands of his Trusted Henchmen.
Dunsel had early on made a particularly clumsy strong-arm attempt to take over control of the Imperium motherland with the spectacularly injudicious use of his Henchmen to inflame the wholly disinterested populous with spam and false reporting. Enter Dumbasturds, Dunsel's oldest and bitterest enemy, who managed to beat the good captain at his own nefarious game by manifesting himself all over the motherland as an infinite number of dual identities, who promptly piled up more false reporting than Dunsel and his Henchmen could ever hope to have matched. It just goes to show that there's simply no underestimating a mentally unstable asshole with plenty of time on his hands and an intergalactic web connection, is there, boys and girls?!
At any rate, when Dunsel finally realized that he would never be universally accepted as the de facto ruler of the Imperium motherland, and after being summarily banished by Dumbasturds' villainous and deceptive tactics, the motherland went corporate (which more than assured that the Imperium citizenry would never be considered again!) and Dunsel was forced to start his very own little empire to perpetually have his way with, which he called most appropriately The Captain's Loo. This was to be the magical troll-free kingdom where all of the banished motherland followers (or Loo-Rolls, as they became known) of Dunsel wound up, but Dunsel was not a contented despot by any means, as his advertising revenues were disappointing to say the very least.
It was at this point when Dunsel, or perhaps more likely one of his ever pro-active Henchmen, fostered the idea to utilize spies who were still pliantly loyal to Dunsel, but yet to be banished from the motherland, in order to lure unsuspecting new enemies of Dumbasturds (whom he was in the noxious habit of making on a daily basis) away from the Imperium home system into the extremely derivative realm of the always obsequious Captain's Loo. Even the all-wise Leat'her eventually proved susceptible to this crude ploy as his public crucifixion in the motherland by Dumasturds had just about reached its inevitable climax.
Leat'her lasted about ninety seconds, as these things are reckoned, at the Captain's Loo before 'Ban the last poster' and 'In my pants' became unspeakably tedious to the greatest mind of our time, whereupon he noticed Dunsel's reprehensible tendency to keep the shit stirred up as much as he possibly could between his group and Dumbasturds back on the Imperium homeworld. The spying and baiting went gleefully on and on until Leat'her felt compelled to point out the ultimate futility of Dunsel's actions to the people of Loo.
The consequent angry mob aimed at Leat'her was inevitably spearheaded by Dunsel's most Trusted Henchman, Yankee Doodle. Yankee Doodle was a stick-up-the-ass, block-headed, right wing, holier than thou sack of Mugatu dung who'd had it in for Leat'her since the day that he primly informed Yankee Doodle of his complete and abject disdain for the Henchman's fascist and repressive political stance. From that moment forward, this vindictive balled eagle began echoing Dumbasturds' declarations that Leat'her was a liar and a fraud, a misogynist, and a great many other unrepeatable things which could only have been undeservedly transferred from Yankee Doodle's own deeply scarred psyche.
In a fit of vitriol, unusual in its intensity even for Leat'her, he unleashed his finest volley of DirtyNastyTalk to date at the singularly unrepentant Yankee Doodle, who took the greatest delight in responding in kind. The battle raged across not only the homeworld, but throughout many of the sparsely populated satellite systems, resulting in the final banishment of Leat'her from both the Imperium homeward and the Captain's Loo. Although Yankee Doodle was also unceremoniously scorched from the motherland, he immediately returned as one of Dunsel's spies in the dual identity of 'Baseball Coach', but with no 'evil' left to fight, he was found to be a rather ineffectual and boring cretin after all and was mostly ignored, which is just as it should have been.
Next up: Spam Attack On Imperium Prime! Don't you DARE miss the next chapter ofÉ
THE IMPERIUM MUST DIE!
Chapter Four
The new day dawned clear and bright on the Imperium homeworld; Dunsel forever stripped of any real power in the galaxies and confined to his own pitiful domain, as well as perhaps one or two others of the tiny, all-but-dead satellite systemsÉand Leat'her relegated to the barest, ignoble level of survival on Analopolis, the home planet of his bitter enemy, Dumbasturds--and this, only because it amused Dumbasturds to watch Leat'her squirm. Leat'her had been IP banned on Imperium Prime, resulting in his permanent inability to reenter the motherland on a molecular level, while Dumbasturds and a handful of the most determined of Dunsel's spies had simply adopted new dual identities with which they continued to parade around wherever they pleased, utterly unscathed. It all amounted to a clear victory for Dumbasturds, who blissfully continued to attack the citizens of Imperium Prime at whim and alternately blame either Dunsel or Leat'her for his own ongoing campaign of terror.
So then, when the motherland's segment of the galaxy wide web was suddenly disrupted, all normal communication abruptly replaced with gibberish, each of our principle players ever-so-predictably pointed their cyber-fingers at all of the other ones. The spam load became so overpowering that the entire system was offline for several days. Eventually, the stricken homeworld was retaken by The Corporation, communication restored and security beefed up, but not before many thousands of the Imperium's war-weary citizens fled to the waiting arms of the various satellite systems. This development, of course, made the satellite systems all the more suspect for the raids in the first place because it was they who directly benefited from the disruption.
Queen Don'tturnyourbackonher, from the Heavenly system, was is full screeching denial mode and had just declared martial law on her planet when the motherland's devastating cyber shutdown attack was repeatedÉonly worse this time. Much worse. The Princess Noseintheair of the Trackless Void and Admiral Bonanza, the ruler pro-tem of the Man-haters Guild were both doing their level best to ignore the whole affair when it happened againÉand againÉand again.
Over the course of the next several weeks the web at Imperium Prime was repeatedly knocked out of commission. No amount of force was sufficient to prevent the raiders from pillaging the system as they pleased, and all the mutual blaming in the universe did not bring anyone closer to an understanding of who was really behind the reign of misery.
Was it Dunsel? Or Leat'her? Or even Yankee Doodle? Were these three villainous curs in fact one and the same person, as Dumbasturds had ever been wont to suggest?! Could it have been Dumbasturds after all, dispute his apparent lack of intellectual credibility??!! Or was it an entirely new monster ego, perhaps one with no real dog in the original battle of the morons at all???!!!
Tune in tomorrow, for the gut-wrenching answer, boys and girlsÉor not--I haven't actually decided yet whether I really want to tell you or just leave you here in your profound ignorance. But, either way, kids, there will be moreÉ..
THE IMPERIUM MUST DIE!
Chapter Five
Leat'her had entirely too much time on his handsÉhands which he had by now thoroughly washed of any emotional ties whatsoever to anything that happened on the galaxy wide web. He had wasted quite a lot of his life in vainly attempting to be an ally to Dunsel, but had long since given up any forlorn hope of ever breaking through the quantum shielding of hateful and hostile paranoia with which the emotionally crippled despot of the Captain's Loo habitually surrounded himself. Having inevitably failed in that endeavor, he had even made a tentative appeal or two to Dumbasturds' highly vaunted, yet totally undemonstrated 'intellect', but the Emperor of Analopolis was completely locked into lamely trying to convince someone (including himself) that he was somehow intrinsically 'better' than Leat'her.
At length, and utterly predictably, Dunsel got his panties in a twist and withdrew from the public eye completely, Leat'her relentlessly perservered with his hopeless quest to reach the plethora of pathetic fools around him, and Dumbasturds simply carried on making his misspelled and banal comments about the 'obvious' mental defects of the other two. Meanwhile, the debilitating cyber-attacks continued on an almost daily basis on Imperium Prime. The perpetrator, identifying himself alternately only as "Tim" or 'The Almighty God', was proof against any and all attempts to keep him out, disrupting the board at whim and driving more and more of the beleaguered motherland citizenry away to the satellite systems. It was simply only a matter of time time now until Corporate made the inexorable decision that it was just no longer profitable for them to maintain Imperium Prime, in the face of all the so richly deserved chaos, at all.
Ultimately, you see, the problem with cyber-space anonymity is that you can go right ahead and be just as big an asshole as you care to be, because no one really knows who and where you are, and there is actually no legal provision for either exacting retribution or engendering consequences in 'real life'. This goes double for those who are able to resist the temptation to reveal the details of their personal life, which neither Dunsel, nor Leat'her had ever been remotely able to do. So, if Dumbasturds wanted to repeatedly announce online that Leat'her was a liar, a fraud, and a dual-identitied troll and a cyber-bully, there really wasn't a damned thing that Leat'her could ever do to stop him. Leat'her's most artful use of NastyDirtyTalk to rebut Dumbasturds' offensive and unprovoked assaults merely encouraged the latter to continue, and made the former feel more helpless to defend himself. If the despicable Yankee Doodle chose to publicly interpret Leat'her's revelation that his wife of 25 years had recently died of cancer as an indication of Leat'her's 'inability to hold on to a woman', or to use Leat'her's noble and selfless sacrifice of his personal fortune for the sake of his new wife's children to demonstrate that Leat'her was, in fact, 'a dumb ass', he did this safe and secure in the knowledge that Leat'her could never touch him for it, no matter how much Leat'her seethed and plotted his revenge upon the feckless and impotent scab.
Neither could the so-called 'friends' which Leat'her had made among the inhabitants of Imperium Prime and the Captain's Loo be counted upon to do more than completely shun him in his hour of desperate need, because--just as in 'real life'--no one really wanted to be caught up in someone else's battle. There is an old saying in the galaxies which states that, "If you want to know who your true friends are, then fuck up and see who's still there". In Leat'her's case, the answer was a resounding, "No one!". Having been unilaterally forsaken and betrayed in this manner, by a collection of ignorant rabble who should have been begging him for an opportunity to lick the soles of his boots for him, Leat'her had had no choice but to finally withdraw completely from the cyber-world which needed him so desperately, and to go and look for a place to play in heavy traffic. It was, after all, summer where he lived and it seemed a shame to waste it cavorting with insubstantial pissants.
At least, the Great Man consoled himself, he would always have his cats.
Epilogue
Who was the Almighty God? What would happen to Imperium Prime? Could the satellite sites survive? What would become of all of those mindless hangers-on who simply adored their little games of 'Guess the Next Poster' and 'Limericks On Demand', but who could not discuss anything 'real' to save their souls? Would Dunsel ever get the professional help he so desperately needed? Could Dumbasturds ever be called to account for the misery he had produced? Would Queen Don'tturnyourbackonher ever really give up the juice? Could Yankee Doodle (Baseball Coach) ever be made to pay for his crimes against the innocent?
Could anybody in all of the wide galaxies ever be bothered to remember--even for a moment--the original stories and philosophies which had supposedly brought us all together in the first place?
Awww, who gives a fuck, anyway! I'm outta here!
I'll be watching all of you closely, however, and reserve the right to continue, at any time, withÉ..
THE IMPERIUM MUST DIE!
Chapter One
The Imperium was, by nearly everyone who was anyone's estimation, long, long passed any feeble hope of ever recapturing even a tattered, time-dimmed shred of its former glory. To be sure, many desperate attempts had been made over the yawning chasm of the centuries which stretched between the early days of ubiquitous sharing of the exalted stories and philosophies that had made this particular network of commonly disposed star systems a legend throughout the colonized galaxies, and the current state of its ruined, pathetic remnants, which resembled nothing so much as a half-rotted, evil smelling grisly human corpse out of the taped thrillers from the pre-intergalactic web era.
The stories were no longer mentioned, let alone told, and the philosophies had, to all appearances, been completely forgotten. You see, something which should easily have been foreseen--by anyone with even a modicum of understanding of basic human behavior--but wasn't, happened on virtually the very day in which technology granted us the ability to instantly communicate with anyone and everyone anywhere in the galaxies; we were brought up short, face to leering face with the now inescapable realization that we really didn't like each other very much at all.
We lost no time in descending into viciously warring camps within the supposedly welcoming umbrella of The Whole. One group would insist that only the Original Stories were valid, and that the more modern retellings were blasphemous and insipid. Another would be just as adamant that only the 'rebooted' legend was worth bothering with and that the first versions were cheesy and crudely amusing. Many unsuccessful bids were made by one group or another to wrest control of the Imperium from its variously perceived 'internal enemies' and, although ultimate control of the empire had by now changed hands several times, the expatriated factions never really conceded defeat--preferring instead to split off into an array of satellite empires who were fiercely xenophobic and who were most inclined to summarily execute anyone they caught within their protected borders who might have questioned the local despot in any way.
The Imperium itself had been richly populated at its height, but when the satellite empires began cropping up, it was discovered that there was a difficulty in bringing in enough new members to any given sub-group to make it truly viable for the group leaders. This was because the vast majority of the masses who had left the original system in utter disillusionment and more than a small measure of disgust had simply not bothered to re-align themselves with any of the satellites at all.
There was, however, one thing that irrevocably united each and every one of these incessantly quarreling pseudo-deities who ruled their would-be mini-motherlands with an iron--if inelegant and cloying--fist; to the last man and woman, they all had a not-so-secret yen to retake the Imperium for themselves...and THAT is where our story really begins.
Tune in tomorrow, boys and girls, for the next action-packed installment of...
THE IMPERIUM MUST DIE!
Chapter Two
Corinthian Leat'her, known to his friends (of whom he had none) as Rich, was the smartest guy in any room. He knew this to be true because his mother had had him tested. As a product of late twentieth century genetic engineering, he fancied himself to be a voice crying out in the wilderness, bringing sorely needed wisdom to the recalcitrant and ungrateful masses. It was, by definition, a thankless task, but one to which this most remarkable man had unstintingly dedicated his entire life, in as much as he had never really had anything better to do with it anyway.
Leat'her was often prone to the taking of excessively long naps and, therefore, found it a simple matter to ignore The Coming Of Technology until many years after everyone else in the Imperium had 'logged on' and long since chosen sides. His belated explosion onto the motherland's web was received with all of the customary derision and contempt that he had learned to associate with his 'real world' encounters, but he would not allow this to deter him from rubbing everyones faces in the golden radiance of his unique genius. When you're right, you're right and let the wrong be damned!
The verbal carnage was proceeding apace, with a glorious ongoing analysis of the indisputable truth that god is dead (which nearly everyone disputed) and a spirited personal rant against some backwoods Canadian mental case who relentlessly insisted that Crock and Sprocket were actually gay lovers (way to crap on the Original Stories, Bitch!), until the black and dismal day when Everything Changed.
The awakening of Dumbasturds, who vastly preferred his troll dual, Wallabee, was marked by a series of wholly unprovoked and thoroughly vicious personal attacks on the innocent and noble Leat'her. Unbeknownst to our gallant brainiac, Dumbasturds had for years been telling everyone else in the Imperium that HE was the smartest guy around, but no one believed him because his spelling was atrocious and his style of speaking closely resembled that of an inbred thirteen year old girl who had never so much as seen the inside of a plastic educator. Nevertheless, the sudden appearance of a demonstrably real version of what Dumbasturds had only PRETENDED to be instantly struck fear and outrage into the puling little miscreant's blackened and withered heart, forever cementing the animosity between these two polar opposites, to the very great amusement of the aforementioned rabble whom Leat'her had already thoroughly pissed off anyway with his unrelenting application of the Gauntlet Of Unvarnished Truth.
At length, Dumbasturds began unilaterally declaring that Leat'her was but a liar and a fraud, based largely on the fact that Leat'her also just happened to be a reigning Master at NastyDirtyTalk, and wasn't in the least afraid to use it when sufficiently provoked. In response, Leat'her waved his multiple advanced degrees and stunning I.Q. as evidence of his natural superiority, but all to no avail. Ultimately, Leat'her was forced to retreat in disgrace from his hard won beachhead in the Imperium motherland...but he was far from finished.
Tomorrow, The Coming Of Captain Dunsel The FalseFriend in the next ball-busting installment of...
THE IMPERIUM MUST DIE!
Chapter Three (because it's tomorrow SOMEWHERE in the galaxiesÉ)
Captain Dunsel The FalseFriend was actually far less interested in acquiring bosom buddies, or even associates, than he was in simply amassing Adherents. A supremely paranoid and weak-egoed individual by incontrovertible nature, it was the immediate kiss of death to question either his methods or his motives for any reason whatsoever--especially within the confines of his own private mini-kingdom, where he tolerated only those spineless and forlorn lost souls who would enthusiastically continue to kiss his ass even as he gleefully farted in their faces. In point of fact, the sole and only saving grace of this thoroughly irredeemable man was his cowardly insistence on delegating his own dirty work into the waiting hands of his Trusted Henchmen.
Dunsel had early on made a particularly clumsy strong-arm attempt to take over control of the Imperium motherland with the spectacularly injudicious use of his Henchmen to inflame the wholly disinterested populous with spam and false reporting. Enter Dumbasturds, Dunsel's oldest and bitterest enemy, who managed to beat the good captain at his own nefarious game by manifesting himself all over the motherland as an infinite number of dual identities, who promptly piled up more false reporting than Dunsel and his Henchmen could ever hope to have matched. It just goes to show that there's simply no underestimating a mentally unstable asshole with plenty of time on his hands and an intergalactic web connection, is there, boys and girls?!
At any rate, when Dunsel finally realized that he would never be universally accepted as the de facto ruler of the Imperium motherland, and after being summarily banished by Dumbasturds' villainous and deceptive tactics, the motherland went corporate (which more than assured that the Imperium citizenry would never be considered again!) and Dunsel was forced to start his very own little empire to perpetually have his way with, which he called most appropriately The Captain's Loo. This was to be the magical troll-free kingdom where all of the banished motherland followers (or Loo-Rolls, as they became known) of Dunsel wound up, but Dunsel was not a contented despot by any means, as his advertising revenues were disappointing to say the very least.
It was at this point when Dunsel, or perhaps more likely one of his ever pro-active Henchmen, fostered the idea to utilize spies who were still pliantly loyal to Dunsel, but yet to be banished from the motherland, in order to lure unsuspecting new enemies of Dumbasturds (whom he was in the noxious habit of making on a daily basis) away from the Imperium home system into the extremely derivative realm of the always obsequious Captain's Loo. Even the all-wise Leat'her eventually proved susceptible to this crude ploy as his public crucifixion in the motherland by Dumasturds had just about reached its inevitable climax.
Leat'her lasted about ninety seconds, as these things are reckoned, at the Captain's Loo before 'Ban the last poster' and 'In my pants' became unspeakably tedious to the greatest mind of our time, whereupon he noticed Dunsel's reprehensible tendency to keep the shit stirred up as much as he possibly could between his group and Dumbasturds back on the Imperium homeworld. The spying and baiting went gleefully on and on until Leat'her felt compelled to point out the ultimate futility of Dunsel's actions to the people of Loo.
The consequent angry mob aimed at Leat'her was inevitably spearheaded by Dunsel's most Trusted Henchman, Yankee Doodle. Yankee Doodle was a stick-up-the-ass, block-headed, right wing, holier than thou sack of Mugatu dung who'd had it in for Leat'her since the day that he primly informed Yankee Doodle of his complete and abject disdain for the Henchman's fascist and repressive political stance. From that moment forward, this vindictive balled eagle began echoing Dumbasturds' declarations that Leat'her was a liar and a fraud, a misogynist, and a great many other unrepeatable things which could only have been undeservedly transferred from Yankee Doodle's own deeply scarred psyche.
In a fit of vitriol, unusual in its intensity even for Leat'her, he unleashed his finest volley of DirtyNastyTalk to date at the singularly unrepentant Yankee Doodle, who took the greatest delight in responding in kind. The battle raged across not only the homeworld, but throughout many of the sparsely populated satellite systems, resulting in the final banishment of Leat'her from both the Imperium homeward and the Captain's Loo. Although Yankee Doodle was also unceremoniously scorched from the motherland, he immediately returned as one of Dunsel's spies in the dual identity of 'Baseball Coach', but with no 'evil' left to fight, he was found to be a rather ineffectual and boring cretin after all and was mostly ignored, which is just as it should have been.
Next up: Spam Attack On Imperium Prime! Don't you DARE miss the next chapter ofÉ
THE IMPERIUM MUST DIE!
Chapter Four
The new day dawned clear and bright on the Imperium homeworld; Dunsel forever stripped of any real power in the galaxies and confined to his own pitiful domain, as well as perhaps one or two others of the tiny, all-but-dead satellite systemsÉand Leat'her relegated to the barest, ignoble level of survival on Analopolis, the home planet of his bitter enemy, Dumbasturds--and this, only because it amused Dumbasturds to watch Leat'her squirm. Leat'her had been IP banned on Imperium Prime, resulting in his permanent inability to reenter the motherland on a molecular level, while Dumbasturds and a handful of the most determined of Dunsel's spies had simply adopted new dual identities with which they continued to parade around wherever they pleased, utterly unscathed. It all amounted to a clear victory for Dumbasturds, who blissfully continued to attack the citizens of Imperium Prime at whim and alternately blame either Dunsel or Leat'her for his own ongoing campaign of terror.
So then, when the motherland's segment of the galaxy wide web was suddenly disrupted, all normal communication abruptly replaced with gibberish, each of our principle players ever-so-predictably pointed their cyber-fingers at all of the other ones. The spam load became so overpowering that the entire system was offline for several days. Eventually, the stricken homeworld was retaken by The Corporation, communication restored and security beefed up, but not before many thousands of the Imperium's war-weary citizens fled to the waiting arms of the various satellite systems. This development, of course, made the satellite systems all the more suspect for the raids in the first place because it was they who directly benefited from the disruption.
Queen Don'tturnyourbackonher, from the Heavenly system, was is full screeching denial mode and had just declared martial law on her planet when the motherland's devastating cyber shutdown attack was repeatedÉonly worse this time. Much worse. The Princess Noseintheair of the Trackless Void and Admiral Bonanza, the ruler pro-tem of the Man-haters Guild were both doing their level best to ignore the whole affair when it happened againÉand againÉand again.
Over the course of the next several weeks the web at Imperium Prime was repeatedly knocked out of commission. No amount of force was sufficient to prevent the raiders from pillaging the system as they pleased, and all the mutual blaming in the universe did not bring anyone closer to an understanding of who was really behind the reign of misery.
Was it Dunsel? Or Leat'her? Or even Yankee Doodle? Were these three villainous curs in fact one and the same person, as Dumbasturds had ever been wont to suggest?! Could it have been Dumbasturds after all, dispute his apparent lack of intellectual credibility??!! Or was it an entirely new monster ego, perhaps one with no real dog in the original battle of the morons at all???!!!
Tune in tomorrow, for the gut-wrenching answer, boys and girlsÉor not--I haven't actually decided yet whether I really want to tell you or just leave you here in your profound ignorance. But, either way, kids, there will be moreÉ..
THE IMPERIUM MUST DIE!
Chapter Five
Leat'her had entirely too much time on his handsÉhands which he had by now thoroughly washed of any emotional ties whatsoever to anything that happened on the galaxy wide web. He had wasted quite a lot of his life in vainly attempting to be an ally to Dunsel, but had long since given up any forlorn hope of ever breaking through the quantum shielding of hateful and hostile paranoia with which the emotionally crippled despot of the Captain's Loo habitually surrounded himself. Having inevitably failed in that endeavor, he had even made a tentative appeal or two to Dumbasturds' highly vaunted, yet totally undemonstrated 'intellect', but the Emperor of Analopolis was completely locked into lamely trying to convince someone (including himself) that he was somehow intrinsically 'better' than Leat'her.
At length, and utterly predictably, Dunsel got his panties in a twist and withdrew from the public eye completely, Leat'her relentlessly perservered with his hopeless quest to reach the plethora of pathetic fools around him, and Dumbasturds simply carried on making his misspelled and banal comments about the 'obvious' mental defects of the other two. Meanwhile, the debilitating cyber-attacks continued on an almost daily basis on Imperium Prime. The perpetrator, identifying himself alternately only as "Tim" or 'The Almighty God', was proof against any and all attempts to keep him out, disrupting the board at whim and driving more and more of the beleaguered motherland citizenry away to the satellite systems. It was simply only a matter of time time now until Corporate made the inexorable decision that it was just no longer profitable for them to maintain Imperium Prime, in the face of all the so richly deserved chaos, at all.
Ultimately, you see, the problem with cyber-space anonymity is that you can go right ahead and be just as big an asshole as you care to be, because no one really knows who and where you are, and there is actually no legal provision for either exacting retribution or engendering consequences in 'real life'. This goes double for those who are able to resist the temptation to reveal the details of their personal life, which neither Dunsel, nor Leat'her had ever been remotely able to do. So, if Dumbasturds wanted to repeatedly announce online that Leat'her was a liar, a fraud, and a dual-identitied troll and a cyber-bully, there really wasn't a damned thing that Leat'her could ever do to stop him. Leat'her's most artful use of NastyDirtyTalk to rebut Dumbasturds' offensive and unprovoked assaults merely encouraged the latter to continue, and made the former feel more helpless to defend himself. If the despicable Yankee Doodle chose to publicly interpret Leat'her's revelation that his wife of 25 years had recently died of cancer as an indication of Leat'her's 'inability to hold on to a woman', or to use Leat'her's noble and selfless sacrifice of his personal fortune for the sake of his new wife's children to demonstrate that Leat'her was, in fact, 'a dumb ass', he did this safe and secure in the knowledge that Leat'her could never touch him for it, no matter how much Leat'her seethed and plotted his revenge upon the feckless and impotent scab.
Neither could the so-called 'friends' which Leat'her had made among the inhabitants of Imperium Prime and the Captain's Loo be counted upon to do more than completely shun him in his hour of desperate need, because--just as in 'real life'--no one really wanted to be caught up in someone else's battle. There is an old saying in the galaxies which states that, "If you want to know who your true friends are, then fuck up and see who's still there". In Leat'her's case, the answer was a resounding, "No one!". Having been unilaterally forsaken and betrayed in this manner, by a collection of ignorant rabble who should have been begging him for an opportunity to lick the soles of his boots for him, Leat'her had had no choice but to finally withdraw completely from the cyber-world which needed him so desperately, and to go and look for a place to play in heavy traffic. It was, after all, summer where he lived and it seemed a shame to waste it cavorting with insubstantial pissants.
At least, the Great Man consoled himself, he would always have his cats.
Epilogue
Who was the Almighty God? What would happen to Imperium Prime? Could the satellite sites survive? What would become of all of those mindless hangers-on who simply adored their little games of 'Guess the Next Poster' and 'Limericks On Demand', but who could not discuss anything 'real' to save their souls? Would Dunsel ever get the professional help he so desperately needed? Could Dumbasturds ever be called to account for the misery he had produced? Would Queen Don'tturnyourbackonher ever really give up the juice? Could Yankee Doodle (Baseball Coach) ever be made to pay for his crimes against the innocent?
Could anybody in all of the wide galaxies ever be bothered to remember--even for a moment--the original stories and philosophies which had supposedly brought us all together in the first place?
Awww, who gives a fuck, anyway! I'm outta here!
I'll be watching all of you closely, however, and reserve the right to continue, at any time, withÉ..
THE IMPERIUM MUST DIE!