The Never-Ending Story

Chapter Ian

Almost precisely at the centre of the universe, on the Planet Saks-Ell-Biy, resides a foul Overlord called KohlliN. He has ruled this world for four thousand years, and no record of any time before his reign exists. His subjects view him as godlike - a dark avatar of misery. Legends claim when the Sun spawned the world, he was its afterbirth.

The truth, however,

is rather different. For the subjects are unsure on the meaning of the word avatar and so instead call him KohlliN the drak mouse. He can be meek and mild but when he wants the cheese he will snatch it with both hands. He is feared and so it was left up to a girl called Cedric to find the silver wire to chop KohlliN's reighn short.

'Reighn' was what KohlliN called his mighty appendage. He used it to terrorise the people of Saks-Ell-Biy, waving it at the innocent peasants bellowing 'Do you see my mighty appendage? Does the very size of it not strike fear into your pitiful hearts?' And lo, when the young maidens of the kingdom did experience KohlliN's mighty appendage, its sheer girth brought tears to their eyes.

Of course, KohlliN is entirely asexual and has no interest the rape of his subjects. Bored with four millenia of tyranny, the only thing KohlliN lusts for now is his coming ascension to

power, assuming his new role as Guardian of the Saks-Ell-Biy Flora and Fauna.

His subjects cower in their rudimentary hovels, afraid of the horrific possibilities that might result from KohlliN's forays into the world of Biotechnology. As he crosses the cobbled courtyard from Glasshouse to Laboratory, redolent with the blood of a thousand ages, it is unclear what KohlliN's true motives are. One may observe the small phial of purple liquid and obligatory bottle of Baby-Bio on his seed tray. The automatic doors to KohlliN's laboratory spring apart with a noise like the yodelling of many fat Swiss goats only to reveal

his most feared opponent, Cedric.

She had returned with the silver wire.

The details of her search were unrequested by KohlliN but he did want to know why she had come for him. Cedric told him that the title of Guardian of the Saks-Ell-Biy Flora and Fauna was higly prestigous and she wished her master of sci-fi shelving, HoocKet, to have it. KohlliN quaked at the name of the mighty lord but he had never been one to back down from a

fight before, and immediately challenged the evil HoocKet to trial by oNe-man-wembO in the blood and gibblet soaked arena of carnage that is known as the Azzee.

There, on the field of death, where so many brave gladiators had met their untimely demise due to the unthinkable horror that is nigglee-groyn-strayn, KohlliN and HoocKet prepared to do battle, each knowing that to claim victory they would have to achieve the impossible and beat the Black Cat himself, the legendary Ya-shin, and at all times remain impervious to his blood-curdling cry of 'Diditgoin?'.

KohlliN's superior girth won him the contest with ease, of course.

And so his reign seemed set to last for millennia uncountable.

Slightly off-centre from the lush, fertile planet that is Saks-Ell-Biy, a small asteroid was lurking. The residents had always called it Pohkeemahone but elsewhere in the universe, it was known as Umber-Molasses. Beneath the grand silk carpet of Jagga-din, situated in the Great Hall of Pohkeemahone, a creature was festering

- a creature called Ian Evil.

He is an evil creature that is nothing but pure evil in a bag made from nasty floating in a pool of horrible. Ian Evil had been bannashed from his home, biggemon, after a fall out with the king. He had told him the entire dialgoue of what the princess had said to the bishop and was immediatley exiled. But why has his name cropped up? The people who KohliN rulled over were about to find out.

'Rulling' was a particularly unpleasant punishment involving a banana, half a tub of KY jelly and a dozen primed gibbons. But I digress. Ian Evil, despite his apparent malevolence, was in fact a much misunderstood character who enjoyed nothing more than gazing at rare types of flora and fauna. Sadly, the same could not be said about Ian's foul and loathsome alter-ego Dave Nice of FAB FM, who was a right little bugger. Nevertheless, it was Ian's love of all things botanical which had led him to Saks-Ell-Biy.

KohlliN was, by this time, close to his ascension to the almost God-like status of Guardian of the Saks-Ell-Biy Flora and Fauna. This was a very strange title for a very strange job. KohlliN pondered its meaning. Had the original Guardian and creator of the position hidden some hideously obscure joke or innuendo within its semantic structure? KohlliN couldn't tell, but that was of little concern now.

It mattered little because a new mission had arose. The general feeling was that missions were anounced once too often but Kohlin thought that it would be a good idea to go on this one. This one was to get the magic scroll, within the scroll was the information on how to eliminate the tiresome edition of new characters which make it all the more harder for people to understand each and every persons place in life.

"The Tiresome Edition of New Characters" published by Schuster and Schuster (ISBN 0752842994, $27.50) was extremely hard to locate. Kohlin found the new mission taxing. Even his last resort, a large majestic woman in armour (who would scour an immense database looking for the publication) failed to come up with a result. Kohlin decided that he would have to find the magic scroll after all.

KohlliN, who by this time had decided to return to the original spelling of his name in the interests of continuity and in an effort to shame the half-arsed attempts of certain members of the writing team (who shall remain nameless), was just about to begin this great 'quest to end all quests' when he suddenly remembered that it would be a good idea to end this rather meandering and cumbersome sentence some time soon.

And ended it was, but not in time to prevent the arrival on Saks-Ell-Biy of Ian Evil. The populace trembled at his coming, for they saw that he had arrived in his third incarnation: Steven Saintly, the cruelest being ever to have existed.

Steven Saintly had not always been Evil. A long time ago he was a kind and generous being but on one fateful day he took a liking to chip fat. From this ensued his desire to find lady who had hair in the chip fat style. He found her but she turned him evil with her evil glasses of Nardoooooo

.

Anyhoo, KohlliN, realising that the almighty responsibility of saving the inhabitants of Saks-Ell-Biy rested on his shoulders and his shoulders alone, took the only reasonable cause of action open to him. He ran away and joined the circus, forging a successful career as 'Colin and his amazing performing Californian Babes', and was never mentioned in the story ever again;

after the end of this chapter, that is, which recites the epic saga of his adventures up to that date.

In the distance, Rene was cool, calm and collected. Bridges posed no challenge to him. In fact, if he ever tried anything he would simple snapple it up so quickly even his lecherous, leperous grandmother wouldn't have noticed as it fastned on to his crotch-strings. Jamero Quiggly entered bearing ice creams.

Rene - I think if I had one of those right now, it'd kill me.

Jamero - Why?

Rene - Because if I were any more chilled, I'd be dead.

This didn't faze KohlliN one bit. Heaving his planetary bulk up from the stellar throne, he cruised his attention across to the dramas which were unfolding in a small picnic hamper, inside of which Steven Saintly was wrestling with his own teeth, tortured by the Glasses of Nardoooooo.

The Glasses of Nardoooooo are stupid, thought KohlliN. But as he stood there he began quivering with despair. Soon enough a lone-tear found its way down the deep furrows in his ugly head-skull and dripped uselessly to the floor. Even though the Glasses of Nardoooooo featured six consecutive vowels, KohlliN envied what they had. The insecuritites which had been nibbling at him for years rose into turmoil and he collapsed on the floor. That capital letter at the end of his name had always left him without direction and now he vowed to have it removed; he would go to the City Hall tomorrow and change his name. Perhaps Kohllin or Kohlli. No, he thought. From tomorrow, I shall be called Zxevqewuewueneid.

The following day KohlliN wandered nonchalantly into City Hall. I'd like to change my name to Zxevqewuewueneid he said to the little old lady sitting behind the desk. Fixing him with a steely gaze from every one of her 17 sapphire blue eyes she said quite distinctly "No you big mussel father - I have no time for your irritating whims. This will be the third time in four months!!" KohlliN, used to getting his wicked way with women resolved to kill this infidel before his masterplan faced another setback.

KohhliN decided that it would be much more enjoyable to just do her and make her see his way. When she did, she gasped in amazement at his ugliness. One man, one face, yet it had the appeal of a thousand dead puppies. Kohhlin ran away, out into the streets and vowed to search for the elusive, ziggle look.

But before he could, first he would have to deal with Rene and Jamero. Jamero stood before him in the street, his pilchard flavoured ice cream slowly trickling down his hairy arm in the oppressive midday sun. It reminded KohlliN of something, something locked far away in the deepest recesses of his mind. Something strangely comforting. But before he could remember what it was, Rene jumped him from behind, clutching his enormous weapon.

The weapon was a mere word (but an enormous one - "micropalaeontological"), but when uttered by Rene it would turn every semi-permeable membrane in its target's body into a totally impermeable one (cellophane to be precise). Death occured within seconds.

For many years men had wondered how a word that sounded like the proffesion of Boss Zellar from the gang Split ends before he became an underworld master, could have such a devestating effect. There must be a cure and somehow there must be a way to find it so that Rene could be reduced to no more than an antacid tablet.

Sue Dunley appeared, suddenly. "Put down your weapons of war," she pleaded, "let peace return to the world." Of course, her naïve pacifism merely served to sanction the existing tyrannies.

And then to add to the irony, KohlliN then proceeded to pleasure her slowly with an AK-47.

As she watched KohlliN expertly juggle the assault weapon with two oranges, the pleasure she gained from the spectacle crumbled away all her previously cherished left-leaning, liberal, "muesli-eating" views. Guns now held a deep fascination for her.

However she could not have forseen what was to happen next as the girl she had abondoned as a just a baby came back for revenge. Nora Titsoff had taken her fathers name unlike her mother and vowed to kill the evil, gun obssesed, non puffy like liberal.

Without hesitation, KohlliN knew what he must do to avert disaster. Grasping deep into his trouser pocket, he flopped out his bazooka and proceeded to do the necessary.

Not for the first time, the lives of our heroes had been despicably interfered with by that arch-purveyor of smut and depravity, John Kettley. Remembering that a certain amount of dictatorial censorship had not been unknown in the past, Nora reflected on how Kettley should probably clean up his act somewhat. And then decided to go on a quest.

The quest was always going to be difficult as the pink glove lay to the west of the eastern caves and down there lived the man monster they knew as Kated. He had a thing for gloves and removing this one was going to be no easy task, especialy hard as it was the glove of Grace Kelly.

Nora was not sure what she was looking for but legend told of a secret canon named "Big Momma" with the potential to destroy most of the known universe. With only a green jelly baby for company she headed North. After several miles she stumbled across

the Eastern caves.

The orginal quest had begun and it was time to head west. As she went she got hungry and took off the head of the jelly baby and inserted it into her mouth. Just as she was about chew she saw

that the jelly baby had sprouted two new heads.

Quickly she pulled those off as well, but the baby just grew four more. Not being one to learn from past failures, Nora continued pulling off heads. Seven hours and several million heads later, Nora was tiring. The baby spoke.

"John Kettley is being unjustly persecuted for his beliefs. He is a visionary, the likes of which has never been seen. Those who attack him are prone to making off-hand, sweeping generalizations against him, and in this way are no better than Hitler."

"The importance of his work is such that any innuendo he makes, sexual or otherwise, must be accepted into the story, or else he may resort to dispensing with any form of subtlety whatsoever" the baby continued, gently rubbing one off.

"But such threats make no sense," replied Nora, "as he couldn't retaliate with more filth if he were banned from adding anything to the story."

The argument settled, Nora decided to continue the quest with her new sidekick.

The Jelly baby was unlikely to be much use as it was quite an arse to carry due to the wieght of the heads. Nora decided that she would have to create a special trailer for it. Ivor the trailler filled this niche perfectly and so the three friends continued.

On their way to the Eastern Caves, they were ambushed by Boss Zellar, the renegade palaeontologist. He wielded his slightly soiled dinosaur bones.

However as he approached the Split ends realiesed that any attack would be bad for publicity especailly as they were planning an album to celebrate their change from a gang.

His allies mutinied and left, citing artistic differences. Boss Zellar was on his own.

He was frightened now, it was him versus the three of the hardcore travellers. The only thing he could do was join them, besides he had always had a fettish for gloves and the fact they were Grace Kelly's sealed it for him. The four of them continued in their quest.

Kated the Man Monster was, unlike his name suggested, female. She was known as a monster due to her reptilian features - scaly skin, a long forked tongue, and cold to the touch - but the description was hardly fair. Her abnormalities only made her more alluring... who can honestly say they don't fantasise about a half-lizard, half-lady?

All four travellers for a start.

They knew that killing such a creature would be hard and would of course upset a few people, well one person in particular. However a battle commenced as the four chums went for Kated.

As they approached, the sheer sexual power of the lizard-lady started to penetrate them, in a quite literal sense. (Well, with John Kettley not writing, someone had to, didn't they?)

They knew there was only one way to slay such a fine creature and that was Big Momma. They would have to return for the fight later on but was this possible.

Luckily Nora was immune to the great reptile mother's charms, being female herself, and partly descended from radiators. She knocked Zellar over the head, bundled him into the trailer with the jelly baby, and pulled the group to a safe distance.

Some two hundred miles later she deemed it time to revive Zellar. Theyn had to head North hard and fast. Big Momma waits for no man.

The legendary cannon had been lost centuries ago, and the troupe would have a difficult time locating it. The last known whereabouts were rumoured to be a shed belonging to the terrible green witch of the north.

There was a whole land of sheds and it was proving difficult to find terrible green witch of the north. They searched not one not two not three but six sheds.

But the group was beginning to fray. Ivor was tiring and Zellar had his own problems.

"This is getting us nowhere. The witch could be in any one of these hundreds of sheds. We can't possible visit them all," Nora lamented.

However they struggled on and as luck would have it the next shed was the very one that they had been looking for. Inside lived the terrible green witch of the north with her sister beside her, the one with a sheep fettish.

The adventurers sighed with relief, for the most terrifying of the three witch sisters was absent, the short podgy one.

"We seek Big Momma, on our quest to destroy the man monster known as Kated. Will you help us?" was what Nora should have said. Instead,

"We seek man monster Kated, on our quest to destroy Big Momma. Will you help us?" This simple mincing of words lead to a witch fit of rage.

Witch Fit sounded like a DIY shop, but this did not deter the great green one. Showing no mercy, she paraded in front of Nora and Zellar wearing only a towel and eye make-up. At this moment the jelly baby rose up...

and fell back down as the heads were still too heavy.

Ivor was to come to the rescue. He nudged her to the edge of the stairs, which all land of sheds, sheds have and watched as she tumbled to her death. The sister was angry, revenge was imminent.

The party had to escape. Zellar led the retreat through the jungle of nettles behind the shed, but as they scaled the Great Fence, Ivor slipped and suffered severe groin injuries. Struggling on, the party reached a wide field which stretched away in every direction. Zellar would have to lead the others, as he knew which way to go, but when he looked round he found they had split up and run off in different directions.

Zellar was just about to pursue them, when Ivor came crawling out of the undergrowth, his groin shredded like so much cheap marmalade. As Ivor lay on the grass groaning, Zellar realised that the quest was lost, and with a heavy heart sat down to give Ivor's inner thigh the attention it needed.

Ivor, truely a trailor of many parts, had an inner thigh that belonged to a long since deceased Duck-Billed Platapus. Though Zellar's heart was heavy, it was not impervious to trailor attack. Ivor, returning to consciousness, saw Zellar's crusty lips attached to his favoured thigh. Completely misreading the situation, he plunged his towbar into the very depths of Zellar's plump breast.

Zellar let out a scream comparable to a thousand lions standing on a thousand thorns. The one picce of food he had kept from his childhood, a chicken breast from Paddey's poultry, had been deystroyed. Perhaps they were even now, Boss Zellar thought differently and whipped out his

old chum from the Split Ends, Frandler Ming. Frandler had inherited his mother's deadly visage, and now attempted to direct it at Ivor.

"His old chum from Split Ends, Frandler Ming" was what Zellar called his cock....erspaniel. Clutching it in his mighty grasp, Zellar proceeded to pistol-whip Ivor to within an inch of his life.

However, the phrase "his old chum from Split Ends, Frangler Ming" hadn't been used by Zellar, it had been used in the direct narration of the story, and so actually referred to Zellar's ex-colleague Frandler. Upon arriving at the scene, Frandler was shocked to discover Zellar beating a small puppy against a trailer.

He needed the help of his old friend B.B Toffee who was queen of the cats. Frandler called her over from afar. She produced a cat from her sleeves and the Puppy ran off to chase it, leaving zellar flacid and cold.

Luckily, Zellar was a very gifted man, and from his other trouser pocket pulled out his throbbing cock...erill, with which he proceeded to ram B.B. Toffee relentlessly. Jumping to her aid, Frandler grabbed Zellar's cock, and grasped its throat until it finally spat its last, then went limp. Fighting an overwhelming urge to role over and go to sleep, Zellar knew the game was up.

His pockets were now empty, his extensive collection of cockatoos, cockatrices, cockieleekie soup, cockchafer beetles, cockroaches, cockneys, cocktails, and cockabullies, all lost on the road. There was one thing he still had on him though: his enormous dick... ensian masterpiece, Great Expectations.

Happily for readers of the novel, Zellar's inate sense of humour produced a manuscript so full of innuendo and smut that his publisher serialised it. The magazine "Ziv" appeared in monthly installments of brightly coloured filth. Small boys around the galaxy grasped their dick...taphones and eagerly awaited the next edition.

Their favourite character was a young lad who liked to play with his bell. The young campanologist was quite proficiant and was even asked to fiddle about at St. Pauls but as they had lost the old tone maker he had to whip out his own and fling it about.

Much to the delight of the wissened old clergy, who liked nothing more than to see a nubile young boy dinging his donger. However, tragically for the lad, in a freak accident during evensong he had unfortunately been a bit too over-zealous with his wanging (as is the technical term) and had sliced the end of his bell clean off. At which point he was forced to convert to Judaism.

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