Operation Pacifica: Bovine Heresy by Windigo the Feral (NYAR!), aka Commander Inagei, Doberman Empire (Note: This is a story in two parts. Part 2 will be written in conjunction with Shard. As yet, I am still undecided as to whether both parts will remain separate or whether they will end up in one huge post; it depends on how large part 2 ends up. -wtf (nyar!)) [[Archivist's Note: Guess they're seperate now *shrug*]] Operation Pacifica: The Bovine Heresy (an unnatural act in two parts) First off, a warning to those of sensitive nature--this particular episode may be considered offensive to those who speak bad French, bovines, werecattle, or Quebecois or Holsteins in general. Such parties are invited to go perform impossible acts (which cannot be detailed before the watershed hour) if offended. And, thus, on with the show... * Somewhere way the hell out in the desert * The Southwestern part of the United States is not exactly known for its excitement, especially along long stretches of road; some have argued that rodeos are the sole method of entertainment in those parts, at least among the local, non-line-dancing population. Also, as rest areas are few and far between, it is not an unusual practice for truckers to pull off onto dirt roads for a quick nap, or a quick fiddling with the log-books to make it at least appear that they took the mandated rest. Hence, it likely did not raise eyebrows that there was a Rocky Mountain double trailer parked roughly a mile from the Interstate--not even the fact it was painted in totally unnatural shades of purple and green (must be a wierd custom job), had a cattle-car as the short rear trailer (must be going to a rodeo) and had Quebec plates (not unusual for trucks). Alas, these were not exactly your average truckers... "Miiiiiiiiikiiiiiiiiieeee!!! It steeeeeeenks back here!" said the female nearby, who was rather fat, appeared to have dyed her entire body green, and was wearing what distinctly apeared to be rumba panties under the purple lab coat. "Shhh, Leezee! Les vaches, they steenks like that!" said a man wearing what distinctly appeared to be an acryline purple Nazi commandant's uniform and a fairly insipid grin to match. "Eet ees le poo-poo!" "Ewwwwwwwwwwwww" said the one known as Lizzie Loroski. "Make the wankers wear diapers or use the toilet or something! They're *stinky* wankers and the f*cking smell is ruining my STOOOOPENDUS mood! And what's a vache and what do we need them for?" The one known as Mikie Crawford shot her a look from Hell. "Zee vaches! Zey are zee COWS, see? Moooooooooooo! Zey are vat gives zee milk for zee Hellthy Snacks! And zee vaches, zey do not HAVE zee bathrooms, vous stoooopendous eembeceele zhild of zee slow Luuved Vuns an zee stupeed perzon who eez not ze pure-laine spuuunge-minniyon, like me!" Sometimes he really wondered just WHY Lord B'Harne had stuck him with this annoying lady...she said lots of bad words, and complained about everything...but B'Harne said she was really stuuupenndous so he took her. "Oh. Can't you clean this shit up, though? It's not MY fault you don't speak English, silly boy..." "FERMEZ LA BOU--oo, la la, vat eez dees?" Mikie seemed intensely interested in something he saw through the binoculars. "Lemme see!" whined Lizzie. "Not zhus yet, mon petit coueur-baisez," said Mikie. "LEMME SEE YOU F*CKING WANKER! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" screamed Lizzie, as she proceeded to throw herself on the ground and throw a tantrum that would do most two-year-olds proud. "Hehre, hehre, ferrme la vhiny bouche, look and seelonce!" Mikie handed her the binoculars, which showed what distinctly appeared to be a Jihaddi vehicle running at a rather high rate of speed. "Ooo! Oooo! We get to destroy the Gee-hawdeee...we get to destroy the Gee-haw-dee..." Lizzie sang and clapped along, much like one of her name-sakes. Mikie, who had slightly more grey matter, pointed out, "Oui, Leezee, ve get to destroy zee Zhihaddi. Je suis un grande weapon of zee dee-struczhawn, oui, yet ve must prepare zis ting..." "We get to destroy the Gee-haw-dee, we get to-GURK!" Lizzie sang as she was dragged to the main trailer. "I prezaunt...zee Cow-ta-pult!" "Oooooooooooooooooooo..." said Lizzie. Mikie, who had reseized the binoculars, took a look and suddenly shouted excitedly, "Fechez le vache!" "What?" said Lizzie. "Fechez le vache!" "WHAT!?!" "GEEET ZEEE STOOOOOOPENDOUS COW, VOUS LUUVABLE EEEDEEEOOOWT!" "Oh, get the COW. Why didn't you SAY so, you wanker!" "BUT I ZHUST *DEEED*!" Mikie was *not* in a Stuuuupendous mood. He rather wished the Jihaddi were done with so he would not have to be with such a stupid perzon who vas not pure-laine... Lizzie came back a moment later, leading a Holstein who was walking rather slowly and painfully, as Holsteins who have not been milked in several days tend to do. (It had never occurred to the two just HOW one got the milk for the Hellthy Snacks from the cow.) She led it into the chute, closing the doors behind the cow, and went to the large lever. "Ready....aim...and zee FIRE!" M'Hikie shouted... ... Mooella (for that was what her name was--all proper dairy cattle have a name) walked gladly to the chute. These humans were certainly more annoying than usual, almost enough to make her milk clabber in her udders, but that gate for all it was worth looked like a milking chute. Good riddance, too...Mooella felt as if she were about to blow up. Mooella, unfortunately for her, was mistaken. Upon the silly man in the purple coat shouting, she suddenly found herself flying, which (despite all those stories you ever heard as a kid about the cow jumping over the moon) is a *very* unnatural method of transport for bovines. Of course, she did what any respectable cow would do in such a situation--she panicked, her spinchters let loose, and she mooed in terror at NOT being able to see the ground. When Mooella DID see the ground, she was distinctly MORE terrified, and wished again that she were back in Wisconsin instead of in the air, a place where the worst threats poor innocent dairy cattle had to face were not being milked regularly, the occasional udder infection, and those silly humans at the place that made the thing the farmer played DOOM on all the time and seemed to think Holsteins were connected with Windows 95. ... "MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! " screamed a rather frightened Holstein, hurtling at a rather rapid rate of speed towards the TARAV. "Oh Khorne, is that a COW coming towards us?" shouted Shard in mid- sentence. "Why, it do appear to be...OH SNECK! DUCK! *DUCK!*" shouted Windigo. "No, that's a cow--SH*T!" Shard tried to avoid the airborne bovine, only succeeding in smacking right into it. Windigo looked out through barely-opened fingers, seeing bovine chunx (tm) all over, but no real damage to the vehicle. It occured to her why that one Maenad operative out in the Radback, Emil aka Dingo Boy of the Radback, was always singing the praises of cattle-catchers... "I'm okaysneckSNECK OHH HELL" Shard screamed, as he desperately tried to keep the vehicle under control (not easy, considering the cow pats and the cow guts on the road), but slid towards the right... "Oh, this is gonna hurt..." *SKRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIK* The brakes squealed as they pulled to a stop about five hundred feet or so from a vehicle pulled off a dirt road - a vehicle painted amazingly like the Hellwyrm, at that. A rather large vehicle. "Uh, Windigo....you okay?" Shard asked, noticing Windigo seemed to be a bit paler than usual. "Erm...I be alright...but I just remembered why I rather HATE motor vehicles..." Windigo answered through clenched teeth. "Oh hell." "What?" Windigo asked before seeing what appeared to be several Loved Ones coming from the first trailer, which seemed to be a bi-level. "Sneck," Windigo sighed. "Can anything else happen?" (it can and it will. In part 2 of the Bovine Heresy, coming up soon.)