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From: "Aquillae" <aquillae@excite.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} [VBC] Another Day, Another ASS*    by Aquillae  (Assd Celeb, Assd satire)
Date: Thu, 14 Mar 2002 16:10:12 -0500
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ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER ASS*

Written by Aquillae

Copyright March 14,2002

No part of this story may be reposted to any newsgroup or
website, nor archived on any website where the intended intention
of said achieving is to require payment for the reading of this
story or any story on said website.

The author retains the rights to all forms of publication and
distribution of this fictional story in any media now existing,
or any media that may in future be developed for the transferring
of information, be it written, visual, audio, or digital.

The author makes this one time granting to allow the literary
organization know as ASSTR, which at the time of granting this
right, has a website at www.asstr-mirror.org, the right to post this
story in a form that is most advantageous to the readers of ASSTR
on any of the webpages that they, the operators of ASSTR, deem
appropriate, and are also part of the www.asstr-mirror.org directory. 

----

Another Day, Another ASS*
Written by Aquillae
Copyright 3/14/2002

Any comments or complaints about this story should be directed to
Aquillae@excite.com



It was nine o'clock on a Friday evening in early spring.  The
regulars, and the new comers, were all gathered in the great hall
of ASSD to drink and chat, to sing and dance, and perchance to
act out the naughty little desires that wet the appetite and
stirred the blood of both the pure and corrupted alike.

Into this festive joining of flesh and spirit stepped the young
gentleman from the Sovereign State of Pennsylvania, lately
returned from his erotic adventures among the voluptuous vixens
of Venetia.  Upright and tall he walked with a slow and measured
pace.  He was dressed from head to toe in sparkling golden
chainmail.  His fair countenance was set with a determination of
spirit that brought swoons of purest admiration from the youngest
and most impressionable of the fare innocent maidens present at
the gathering.  To these inexperienced, na ve young girls the
young writer and noted philanderer who walked past their tables
appeared as a stately knight out of some Arthurian legend bound
on some heroic quest.  In truth, Aquillae was desperately
searching for a place of solitude from whence he could remove the
iron wedgie that his chainmail thong was inflicting upon his
posterior.

He found seclusion among the many statues of the notable writers
of ASSM fame who's illustrious careers and infamous exploits were
now immortalized in bronze.  Between the bronze lifelike statues
of Pred and Dulcinea he stood and faced the seating area.  With
as much tact and skill as he could muster, Aquillae placed his
hands behind his back and began the difficult and painful task of
removing his chainmail wedgie.

He returned a thin lipped smile and nodded to those seated near
him when they turned in response to the jingling sound of his
metal links.

Almost finished with the painful task at hand, Aquillae relaxed
his vigilance over those around him and slowly breathed a
premature-sigh of relief.  He could feel the last few links were
now willing to slip somewhat comfortably from their uninvited
position.  But just as he was about to move his hand and complete
the removal, someone bumped him.  Startled by the unexpected
contact and fearful that his secret rear actions had been
discovered, Aquillae involuntarily jumped.  His right hand, still
holding the strand of metal links, quickly jerked up, pulling the
metal links tightly up and deeper into their uninvited position.
Teary-eyed, Aquillae turned very gently to face the bumper.

Before him stood two young females dressed in a rather peculiar
assortment of clothing.  The closest to him, and presumably the
one who had bumped him, was dressed entirely from neck to toe in
leather.  Her long, rich, red hair was tucked under the
deerstalker cap she wore.  From behind an ornately crafted
magnifying glass a large, distorted eye examined him closely. 
The eye blinked twice.  Then suddenly the expression changed from
one of suspicion to one of recognition and welcome.

"Oh, it's just you, Aquillae."

The magnifying glass was removed and Aquillae was happy to see
the familiar face of an old friend.  "Hecate?  Is that you?"

She brought the ridiculously curved pipe she was holding up to
her lips and nodded.

"I know you like the leather look, but I thought today was the VB
challenge.  You know, chicks in chainmail."

"What, what?" she quickly asked.  Then blew into the tip of her
pipe.  From out off the bowl a cascade of bubbles streamed up
into the air.  As the bubbles began to pop she leaned close to
Aquillae and spoke, "No time to talk.  The game's afoot!"  And
with another quick blow on her pipe, she passed through the
floating bubbles and headed off in the direction of the ASSM
archive.

Aquillae stood dumbfounded as he watched her leave, clueless as
to what she was up to.

"Sssssh!" a voice came from behind Aquillae.

He turned to see who the person was that had shushed him.  What
he saw was a real life vision of a cartoon character from his
childhood.

The cartoon vision held up its short double-barreled shotgun, the
tip of which had a cork stuck into both barrels.  The figure
leaned close to Aquillae and commented in a peculiar voice that
was strangely familiar.  "Be ver-r-r-r-r-r-ry quite.  We're
hunting troll."

Aquillae stooped down to peered under the brim of the large
hunter's hat.  The playful spirit that sparkled within those blue
eyes assured him of the true identity of the girl under the hat.
The playful female's smile broadened as she saw recognition in
the face of an old friend.

"Katie?" Aquillae whispered, unable to believe the facts that his
senses were telling him.

"Sssh!  I'm working undercover."

Not far away from the two, a group of catholic schoolgirls from
Our Lady of Constant Sorrows where standing around the bronze
statue of their hero, Katie McN.  A high-spirited youth by the
name of Amy Bradshaw stood beside the statue and posed in the
likeness of the bronzed legend for her friends.

"Undercover?"

"Yep!  I'm helping Hec track down a nasty troll."  She pushed up
the brim of her hat.  "And when we find that wascly troll," she
aimed the shotgun off into the distance,  "I'm gonna give `em
both barrels."  There was a quick double pop from the end of the
shotgun.  The corks popped out a few inches, and then flopped
down to dangle below the shotgun from their strings.

Susie Hendricks heard the quick double pop and felt a rush of air
against her back.  She turned to investigate it while her
classmates moved along the long line of statues.  Quickly she
sucked in a breath as her young mind raced wildly with the
information that her eyes where supplying her.  One of the
schoolgirls turned to ask Susie a question.  What she saw nearly
made her heart stop.

With an earth-shattering scream Susie's friend cried out in a
voice only a young teenaged girl could reach when in the presence
of their idols.  "KATIE!!!  Ohmygod!  It's Katie!"

Katie froze.  "Oops."

Starring at the wide-eyed young girls who had all now turned to
stare at their idol, Aquillae commented, "It looks like the jig
is up."

"And gone!" Katie replied as she tossed the shotgun to Aquillae
and dashed for the girls' locker room.  Close on her heels were
the schoolgirls from Our Lady of Constant Sorrow.  Behind the
girls and trying to keep up was Sister Mary Elizabeth, her dark
brown skirt pulled up to her knees revealing her trim black
stocking legs running as fast as they could to keep up with the
teenie boppers.  Chasing Sister Mary Elizabeth was Father
Ignatius.

Kenny Germera walked out of the boy's locker room adjusting his
newly purchased turtle shell from Froggy dot com.  The shell,
which was a sharp olive green with yellow rose detail work, was
one of the new 2002 streamlined Boogie Shell models, guaranteed
to turn even the clumsiest of turtles into John Travolta.

Katie rushed past him in a blur and hurried into the girl's
locker room.  

Kenny saw the girl's from Our Lady of Constant Sorrow running at
him and did what came natural for a turtle - he pulled himself
into his shell for protection.  Unfortunately for Kenny, his
reflexes where not what they used to be back when he was a young
tadpole in the lily pond, and he struggled to pull his limbs into
his shell. 

Just as the screaming, rushing mob of teenaged schoolgirls was
upon him, Kenny managed to pull his limbs into the shell.  With a
last desperate squeak as he beheld the approaching collision,
Kenny pulled his head into his shell.  For a brief moment, the
overly priced, richly decorated Boogie Shell hung motionless in
the air.  Then as gravity began to notice that someone was
obviously ignoring him, he reached up and started to pull the
shell and it's hidden occupant back down to the earth.

But before gravity could teach the wayward object a lesson in
physics, the girls from Our Lady of Constant Sorrow rushed pasted
and bumped the falling shell.  Through the rushing crowd of
teenaged bodies Kenny was bounced like a ping-pong ball. 
Unfortunately, Kenny made the mistake of poking his head out of
his shell.  He knew it was a mistake, but the continuous pounding
he had absorbed from being ricocheted around his luxury shell had
drove him to this desperate act.

He tried to talk to the girls as they rushed by and knocked him
around.  But he only managed a few brief words before his
momentum would send him bouncing of the body of a young teenager
and flying away toward some unseen body.

Unfortunately for Kenny, the last body he bounced off of was the
one that belonged to Marcy Simcock, a tall, athletic girl who
loved to play basketball, soccer, field hockey, and softball. 
The velocity, with witch Miss Marcy Simcock sent Kenny flying out
into the great expanse of the hall, was, as physicist like to
describe, terminal.

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!" those gathered in the great hall
heard three seconds after a blur of olive green with yellow rose
streaks ripped past over their heads.  

While flying through space, Kenny decided to do a little
experimenting with the physical laws of nature.  Unfortunately
for Kenny, the first law he decided to test was Newton's law of
motion.  With a loud amphibian thud, Kenny lost his argument with
the approaching wall.  Now splattered on the wall, his limbs
shooting out from his shell, he now resembled a starfish more
than a turtle.

"You Bastard!" Souvie cried in anger.  "You killed Kenny!"

"Ah, no.  It's all right.  I'm not dead."  Kenny struggled to
turn his head and look over his shoulder at the people in the
great hall.  He gave them a reassuring smile.  "If someone could
just give me a hand here, I'd appreciate it."

Conjugate and Dr. Spin carefully started to peel their amphibian
friend from the wall with a pair of large spatulas they borrowed
from Father Ignatius' box of goodies.  Nat, by this time, was
gaining on the swift footed Sister Mary Elizabeth, who was
following her girls into the locker room.

With a last burst of lusty speed, Nat closed the distance and
reached for the tempting cloth of her habit.  He just missed and
grabbed only air as Sister Mary Elizabeth passed through the door
to the girls' locker room.  

The true huntsman that he was, Nat never lost a step as he
regained his stride and dashed for the portal to that wondrously
strange world that had filled the dreams of many a pimpled-faced
young boy with thoughts of silken undergarments seductively
concealing the forbidden, and lusted for flesh of a young
teenaged girl.

Nat dashed.  Nat raced.  Nat went splat on the closed door to the
girls' locker room.

Nat rubbed his injured nose, and tried to regain something of his
bruised dignity.  For when he had made the abrupt acquaintance of
the hard metal door his silk lavender boxers had popped their
elastic and where now down around his ankles for all to see.

Standing quickly, Nat tried the handle, and then pounded on the
door.

"We're sorry," a politically correct female voice that was
neither too old, nor too young addressed Nat as he tried pushing
against the door, "but you are not allowed to enter the enclosed
room.  Please discontinue your pushing."

"What?" Nat stopped, and failing to realize that he was now
starting an argument with a door, questioned the voice why he
could not enter the girls' locker room.

The voice paused for a moment in thought as if it had never
expected anyone to challenge its decision.

"Well," Nat put his arms on his hips, "I'm waiting."

"You are a male, correct?" the voice hesitantly asked.

"Yep."

"But you still want to enter the this room?"

"That's why I'm pushing on the door, lady."

"You do realize that this is the girls' locker room, don'tyou."

Nat chuckled and turned to those seated near the door listening.
"I'd wouldn't want to get in there if it wasn't."  The others
laughed.

"You could easily use the boy's locker room.  There's no one in
there at the moment.  And..." the voice paused, then lowering her
voice continued, "well, you do understand that there are no
urinals in the girls' locker room."

"Look lady," Nat was now becoming a bit annoyed with the whole
conversation, "I'm not trying to get in there to use any urinals
or toilets."

"Then why do you want to enter the girls' locker room?"

Nat could not believe his ears.  How could anyone, even a
computer as dense as this one most certainly appeared to be, not
understand why a man wanted to get into a girls' locker room full
of teenaged girls, not to mention a very seductive lady of the
cloth.

The voice asked again why he wanted to enter.

"Too get some pussy!  Some muff.  Some tail.  Some, some, some
sex you ignorant pile of circuit boards!"  Nat exploded.

The voice let out a horrified shriek.  "I can't let you enter for
that, you, you immoral man."

"Immoral?  Who are you to make such judgments about my morals?"

"I'm the Department of Justice's new T-2002," the voice replied
with more than just a touch of pride.

"Department of Justice?"

"Yes.  I was developed and tested last year.  This January I was
installed and became operational."

"I don't recall anyone coming by to install a computer."

"I was installed on new years' day."

"Oh."  Nat smiled, remembering with fondness the wild partying
that had taken place the night before.  "Well, see here lady, I'm
not an American citizen who can be bullied around by some
over-zealous moralist from `your' Department of Justice.  I'ma"

"Doesn't matter.  Our laws affect Europeans too."

"I'm not a European.  I'm a"

"Not to worry.  We also hold court over Australians as well."

"I'm not an Australian!" Nat screamed.  "Listen you arrogant,
geographically-impaired, moralistic piece of circuits, I'm a
South African!"

"Oh, that's no problem," the voice cheerfully replied.  "We tell
them what to do all the time."

Nat angrily stomped off in search of the biggest magnet he could
find.

Meanwhile, across the room, Kenny finally came free of the wall
with a loud pop.  He thanked Conjugate and Dr. Spin as he rubbed
his sore limbs.

"No problem," Dr. Spin replied as he gave his friend a slap on
the side of his Boogie Shell.

Unfortunately for Kenny, the slap glanced off the shell's
superior, high gloss surface and caused him to start spinning. 
The ultra-smooth surface of his aerodynamic dancing shell cut
through the air with no resistance and very quickly had him
spinning like a top.  The speed of his limbs, outstretched as
they were by the force of the rotation, added ever more speed to
the spinning.

"Waaahhh! Someone stop me!" Kenny cried out to his friends for
help.  Due to the speed of his rotation, and the distortion
caused by the airflow around him, Kenny's words sounded more
like, "What's up!".

Kenny made several quick rotations round the great hall of Assd,
each time picking up more and more speed as he raced toward the
densely packed center.  Then suddenly he hit an unused, leftover
condom from Uther's challenge number one that was lying on the
floor, and went spinning off toward the exit doors.  He burst
through the exit doors and rocketed out of the alt.sex sub group
and raced toward the alt.Callahan's group.

 From behind the doors leading to the webpages of ASSTR a volley
of trumpets sounded.

Those gathered in the great hall all glanced up at the doors in
baited expectation.  A young novice writer leaned across a table
and whispered to an old veteran, "What does it mean?"

The old veteran hushed the youth quickly, and then added in
reply, "It's the major erotican."

"The major erotican?" the youth questioned as he saw the doors
fly open.  "What's a major erotican?"

"He is," the veteran whispered in reply as he pointed off toward
the man standing in the doorway.

"Him?  He's a major erotican?"

"Yes, yes," Gary Jordan stood in the doorway and replied as he
puffed his chest up, displaying for all his numerous medals and
ribbons.  "I am a major e-rot-i-can."

The gathered eagerly replied, "Yes, yes.  He is a major
e-rot-i-can."

Then as a little man in tails quickly started to play a jaunty
little melody on a piano, Gary marched across the room toward the
young novice while keeping step to the tempo of the music. 
Reaching the table, Gary pulled himself up tall, turned, dropped
his trousers, and saluted the young novice with the customary
ASSD salute.  

Lifting his trousers, Gary turned and marched off in the
direction of the little boy's room, pausing as he went to salute
those he recognized along the way and to sing.

"For I am a major erotican.
 And it `tis, it `tis a glorious thing
 To be a major erotican."

At the door to the little boy's room, he turned and once more
saluted the entire gathering.  The gathered people sang in
reply:

	"For he is a major erotican!"

And Gary added as he entered the little boy's room:

	"And it `tis, it `tis a glorious thing
	 To be a major erotican!"

In the great hall things were once more returning to normal when
a low, mechanical, humming noise was heard faintly over the music
and chitchat.  Suddenly a voice was heard, raised in an
anguished, pleading tone.  "Pussy!  Tits!  Asshole!  Cock! 
Pussy!"

The doors to the ASSM annex burst open and into the great hall
drifted a small cylindrical shaped robot.  It scooted across the
floor with an effortless motion.  In it's wake it left tiny
rippling waves.  A young writer, clutching his newly finished
story in his hand, crashed through the doors in pursuit of the
robot.  With his last breath he cried out, "FUCK!" and collapsed
to the floor exhausted.

The shinny silver robot turned on its hover jets and regarded the
fallen figure.  Slowly the robot floated back to the young man. 
"Sorry Charlie, but you know the rules.  You only get one shot at
a review."  The robot gave a mechanical smile.  "Gotta go.  Gotta
run.  Got lot's more stories to review."  And with that simple
explanation the robot once more turned on his hover jets and
started to drift toward the exit doors so that he could file his
latest reviews.

The young writer reached out his trembling hand that held the
crumpled remains of his erotic efforts and in a weakened, beaten
voice whispered, "fuck," and then collapsed unconscious.

Into this scene of despair and anguish charged Virago Blue -
writer, mommy, bathing beauty, and chick in chainmail!

She knelt down, adjusted her chainmail skirt, and then lifted the
young writer to cradle him in her arms.  "How can you be so
heartless?  So cruel?"  She pressed the young writer to her ample
bosom.

The robot turned.  "Heartless?  Cruel?  Madam, I am neither.  I
was programmed by the great Jimmy Hat to perform a function
without favor or malice.  My criteria, unlike some other humanoid
reviewers I could easily mention, are based solely on the written
words.  Nothing more.  Nothing less."  The robot prepared to once
more head off for the exit.

"But what of art?"

"What?"  Confused by the unfamiliar word not found in his
vocabulary file, the robot stopped.

"Art," Virago repeated as she clutched the young writer to her
bosom even harder.  "Surely there is some room for the
consideration of art in your reviews."

"Art?  Sex?  Art and sex?"  The robot's hover jets started
flickering on and off in wild patterns as it tried to steady
itself.  "Who would read sex stories for art?"

"I would," Virago declared proudly, tossing her luxurious hair
back over her shoulders, and displaying for the robot her strong,
yet feminine chin.

"You.  Read.  Art.  Sex."  The robot struggled with this alien
form of logic.

Virago gave a light flutter of her long eyelashes.

The robot's hover jets worked franticly to keep it stabilized as
it raced through the perceived paradox of the arguments.  Faster
and fast the robot spun as it raced through its database trying
to solve the paradox.  As it blurted out the words faster and
faster they became an unintelligible jumble of sound that rose
higher and higher in pitch until only a shrill mechanical whine
was heard.  Then suddenly the robot stopped spinning abruptly.

"Does not compute.  Does not compute."  The robot shook violently
as smoke started to drift out of its mechanical body.  "Jimmy. 
Please explain.  Please explain."

For the final blow, Virago blew the robot a kiss.

Unable to resolve the paradoxes it had discovered in its coding,
Jimmy Bot self-destructed.

As the one-time reviewer robot exploded into a dazzling display
of pyrotechnics, showering its glittering pieces of metal and
circuitry over the great hall like a fireworks display, a small
voice somewhere in the back of the great hall quietly started to
sing Beethoven's `Ode to Joy'.  Slowly the small voice was joined
by a few more voices, each singing slightly louder and with more
emotion.  The singing grew louder and louder as more and more
voices were joined into the beautiful melody that celebrated the
triumphant spirit until the entire gathering was singing
joyfully.

As the song ended those gathered in the great hall hugged and
embraced one another in a happy celebrative mood.

The End

----

Another Day, Another ASS*
Written by Aquillae
Copyright 3/14/2002

Any comments or complaints about this story should be directed to
Aquillae@excite.com

 
    
Okay, here are the questions to the quiz.  How many do you think
you can get?


1.	What fictional sleuth was Hecate modeled after?
2.	What cartoon character was Katie modeled after?
3.	What popular song of today gives its name to the School that
the girl's come from?
4.	What popular tv show does Souvie's dialogue come from?
5.	From what musical is Gary's song taken?
6.	From what Sci-Fi tv show of the `60s does Jimmy Bot's
destruction come form?





<hr>


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