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Chubba Hubba, or the Picture of Doric Grey

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It was 3300 orbits since physical existence had been destroyed by a seemingly mild mannered man in a lower managerial position at a large multi-monopolistic corporation, a man named Frank Dolmance. After being hit by a bus on his way to deliver his resignation in the form of a Glock and Beretta farewell party, he'd experienced the severance of his consciousness from his body; while his corporeal form languished in a hospital bed, his astral body was able to gather up enormous eldritch power, and after taking revenge on those higher ups who'd fired him, he was free to dispose of what he viewed as a cancerous abomination on a perfectly good ball of rock: organic life.

However, the machine elves who supervise the universe, though busy with their myriad contraptions in Rube Goldberg esque Faberge palaces, did not allow this event to go unnoticed; though their concentration is often tasked by their multi-dimensional basket weaving, they do pay attention to humans from time to time. After this event, known as "the Great Pile Up", they set about reconstructing the previous physical world in the form of a simulation, with all its former inhabitants, except for a certain mild mannered office clerk, who was sequestered in a state known as "the Paradise of the Un-Formed". But as this undertaking was underway, a non-physical being was reclining in his lower Divine Abode and wondering when his next offering from Earth's inhabitants would appear on his be-jewelled plate that was not a plate, nor a cup, nor a bowl.

Carter strode into the room that hovered above the triple gas giants that circled Plurescant. His wispy coattails fluttered in the astral fire that occasionally blasted across the room, ensuring the presence of organic entities in spaceships or thought projections would be swiftly eliminated. "Would sir enjoy a Banthic raytheon fizz before this orbit's dinner party?", he said to the hulking presence sitting in a chair that was not a chair, nor a recliner, nor a stool, but provided comfort all the same. "Carter, you're always attending to my every need like a perfect gentleman. It's intolerable. Couldn't you let your...tails flounce for one orbit? I'm relieving you of your duties this after-noche." "But sir, my tails are already flouncing, and sympathizing to your every desire. That's how I mixed your drink." The hulking Chancellor hacks and sputters slightly. The detritus lands on a planet of highly logical humanoids, eliminating half the world.

'You mean you don't use your.." "Hands, sir? No, such a thing would be vulgar in the extreme. I've been using those to warm your after-burner, as it registered in my consciousness as descending to the 3rd gross jhana." The Chancellor spins round like the Milky Way on its axis. 'Great Scotty, and I thought my seat was on the White Dwarf selection," he says. "No sir, its been out of order since the last 33 thousand orbits. You damaged it last noche after the dinner reception. I wasn't in time to summon up the parasol once the evening's Earth offering (a bountiful bouquet of broccoli) hit the upper Kelvins and ejected in a glorious plume of effervescent prana", Carter replied. "Thank you my good man, now, about that new simulation, will we be receiving it via the usual mental impressions or will we have to inhabit temporary vessels to view the unfolding drama?", said the Chancellor, much relieved. "That sir, is your choice". "CARTER!!!" was the only sound that ever traveled through the void and actually registered as sound in the ears of recently evolved primates emerging from the trees of a small world that had just recently been brought on-line.

RE: Chubba Hubba, or the Picture of Doric Grey
Answer
4/5/14 5:56 AM as a reply to Hazard J Gibbons.
Adam got up, sent an email, read a ridiculous story. Now he is contemplating his next move.