Here's the thing about big plans, especially big plans created by a bunch of copies of yourself and some uppity mutants, they don't always go as you'd expect. I ain't tryin to say you shouldn't be makin big plans or nothin, only that you need to have all the information for jumpin willy nilly around the universe and tryin to punch giant ninja-bots in their faces while tryin not to get killed. I guess I got through it allright. I didn't lose an eye or nothin, so accordin to my ma, it was still fun n' games. It didn't seem like fun at the time, but I been told that we'll all look back fondly on this day. I ain't sure I buy it, but I nodded and smiled anyway.
Let me tell ya, fightin a whole planet full of ninjas while tryin not to harm their meth zombie army just ain't an easy job. While I was out there, punchin ninja robots, tearin out robot innards, zappin here and there, takin the occasional vacation and tryin not to get my own head torn off in the process, I was thinkin that I coulda used some ninja fightin advice before I got all wrapped up in this. That got me wonderin why I had to take all them classes in school about math and biology and whatever, but I never got a useful class like "How to Fight Ninjas" or "How to Pilot an Exoskeleton" or "Astrophysics". It just don't seem right.
So here's the thing. I know my name's in the title of this here blog and my ugly mug's all over the front page and I am the main character of this story and it all seems to be about me, but for today, I'm gonna give somethin back. I know when celebrities say that sorta thing, it usually means they're gonna donate a fiver to the local soup shelter or adopt a kid from some far away place. We all know that ain't really givin most of us anything useful. But Pat wouldn't play games like that. No way. Your ol' pal Pat O'Neil is gonna give you some advice for fightin ninjas that you can use if you're ever in this situation. You can thank me when this saves your butt from the robot ninjas.
First, don't aim for the head. I know, I know. I said I was gonna punch some ninjas right in their stupid ninja faces, but it turns out I was wrong. You see, the ninjas, despite bein evil, ain't dumb. They know that an enemy's first thought is gonna be to punch for the face, so they don't put nothin important in the head area. In fact, they don't make the head themselves at all. They outsource the whole head producin industry to China. It saves them money and it has the added benefit that the heads are filled with and entirely made out of deadly, deadly poison.
Second, if you do happen to punch for the face and it caves in, covering you with deadly, deadly poison, don't panic. Most importantly, don't start flailin your exosuit's hand, which is still connected to the ninja head, all over the place yellin "Get it off me!" This is because, in your flailin, you may just shoot that head straight off your arm, right through the ninja robot (which ain't so bad), and into a whole crowd of meth zombies watchin robot bears fightin real bears. Let me tell ya, strictly as a side note, them meth zombies love their "robobear vs. real bear" matches. They love them so much that, if they are interrupted, they will become real angry, jump into all manner of '70s muscle cars, crank up the Skynard, and come chasin after you like there's no tomorrow.
Third, if you're ever bein chased by a group of meth zombies in muscle cars, watch out for collapsed ninja bodies. They are likely to be right behind you and you can trip on them when you turn to run.
Fourth, if you're fallin after trippin on a collapsed robo-ninja, whatever you do, don't think about unicorns. I cannot stress this enough. Unicorns become angry when you pop into the lobby of their Maui hotel in an exosuit and you put cracks in the foyer. They will make you fix the whole building before you are allowed to return to the fight.
When you are allowed back to the fight, after fixin the hotel and doin some other odd jobs around the hotel grounds because you feel bad, make sure you start aimin for the ninja torsos. If you swing right and you're angry enough, you can punch clean through a robo ninja, disabling it in one shot.
Finally, try to disable the roboninjas in a line, instead of in a circle. Sure, it looks pretty tough to be surrounded by a wall of your defeated enemies, but it's kind of a pain climbing up out of that ring when it's piled over your head. And don't even think about pushing it over. Them robots is heavier than a hippo eating bricks. I swear, they must make them things out of pure iron or somethin.
So, now you know some of the do's and do not's of fightin robot ninjas. You just keep this all in mind if you're ever in this situation. And, when you're done, sit back, relax and have yourself a cup of coffee and a donut. Oh, and brace yourself to join up with the other exo-skeletal-Pats to fight the final holdouts.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Sunday, November 22, 2009
The plan
I ain't sayin y'all are ever gonna do this, but if you was ever plannin on invadin a planet where everyone's hopped up on free meth that's bein handed out like it was whacky candy from giant robot ninjas piloted by, I assume, smaller, non-robotic ninjas inside, then you could do worse than have a bajilllion copies of yourself and your friends.
"But wait," you may be sayin, "even if I did have all them copies, how would I be able to defeat giant robot ninjas? I am, after all, just one, small, fragile being in this giant universe and I think my whole role in fighting a giant ninja robot would be to end up as goo between the toe slit in the robot's ninja shoe."
At least, you'd be sayin that if you was me. Of course, if you was me, then you would know all about what I'm fixin to say here, and it would ruin all the fun of readin this in the first place. Also, you would be have really bad heartburn most of the time and you would think that you should go see the doctor about it and, well, you would if this whole ninja fightin job came with insurance, but it don't and you really ain't got the time to head down to the free clinic because, again, the whole fightin ninjas thing. So, let's just go ahead and say you ain't me for the sake of argument and I'll go ahead and explain you a thing or two about the invasion of planet meth.
First of all, you was right before. If a human was to fight a giant robot ninja, it prolly wouldn't go too well for that human. To remedy this situation, you might need you an exoskeleton or three. Or maybe you need one for each Pat in the army.
"But, hold on a minute," you're sayin now, "if you was to be trapped in a robot exoskeleton, how would you be able to use your teleportation thing you been harpin on all this time. And, while we're on the subject, can you teleport anymore after drinkin that green skull drink those ninjas fed you in Maui. Also, why the heck didn't they just poison you? I mean, they are ninjas, after all, it ain't like they're known for bein nice."
And my response is, first, don't get your panties all wadded into a bunch. That ain't got a lot to do with ninjas, but I find it's usually good advice for the prevention of discomfort, both now, when you gotta be sittin there and readin, and later, when you're doin your laundry. Second, calm down. We'll take these questions in order. The exoskeletons have been carefully and painstakingly crafted by the Squimonk out of moon spider webbing that is kept rigid by running a little bit of current through it. That current also has the benefit of giving us a super charged punch. Next, the Squimonk were nice enough to give me an anti-anti-teleporting-serum serum. And last, I don't have a clue why they didn't just poison me and I don't much appreciate you bringing up my potential imminent demise and reminding me that death is a shadowy figure constantly looming over our shoulders and driving us near to madness in the deep of the night when we got nothin but our regrets to keep us company until the birds start singin again in the dawn, Mister or Missus Macabre.
Now, at this point, you may be thinkin that your ol' pal Pat's got himself enough to just blip on down to the planet, plant his exoskeletal fist in a couple ninja faces, dust off his hands and call it a day. But you would be wrong. We ain't just tryin to defeat the ninjas, we're tryin to wipe them off the planet so our fleet of drug counselors can swoop down and start the rehabilitation process. And them ninjas have had themselves a goodly number of years to dig into their positions and so we gotta plan for the unexpected. So we also need us a whole mess of them Magma Giants to hit the planet with us and sling fire wherever they're needed. We especially need them to hit up all the volcanoes on the planet to take out any bases that might have been place there. We want, according to the Magma Giants, all their base to are belong to us, whatever the heck that's supposed to mean.
Finally, we gotta remember the most important thing about fightin Clan Platypus. They're friggin ninjas! They've had themselves all sortsa trainin in jumpin around and punchin and throwin things and whackin people and things with sticks. Me, I got into a fight once in eighth grade and fought some robot ninjas that Lindbergh sent after me earlier this year. I ain't sayin I can't handle it or nothin, I'm just sayin it's gotta be accounted for. And the best way to make up for a lack of martial arts training, in my opinion, is overwhelming firepower. In this case, it is provided by a donut rail gun mounted over each shoulder of the exoskeleton.
This fine piece of equipment had been adapted by the Squimonk from the ten different worlds on which we Pats had to recover the slugs from the 99 cent store. They took the original donut gun model and modernized it, addin all sortsa doohickies and geegaws and sciency stuff to it. Then, they made themselves a whole mess of donuts that they made superhard by keepin them out in the cold, lonely darkness of space for a couple months. When fired from the donut rail gin, which uses some sorta magnet technology, they can be fired at three times the speed of sound and can tear right through a robot ninja like a stick of butter bein hit by a speeding sun.
All of this was bein explained to me in a bit of a hurry, so forgive me if I've forgotten anything here. The long and short is, I found myself strapped into a suit of body armor and sweatin like a fat man at the summer cake giveaway as I was showed a map of where exactly I was supposed to land and punch a ninja right in his roboty face before he knew what was happenin. It was right amazing how coordinated it all was, but I didn't have much time to consider it because, right as I was thinkin about it, the countdown hit the bottom.
3...2...1...I jumped.
"But wait," you may be sayin, "even if I did have all them copies, how would I be able to defeat giant robot ninjas? I am, after all, just one, small, fragile being in this giant universe and I think my whole role in fighting a giant ninja robot would be to end up as goo between the toe slit in the robot's ninja shoe."
At least, you'd be sayin that if you was me. Of course, if you was me, then you would know all about what I'm fixin to say here, and it would ruin all the fun of readin this in the first place. Also, you would be have really bad heartburn most of the time and you would think that you should go see the doctor about it and, well, you would if this whole ninja fightin job came with insurance, but it don't and you really ain't got the time to head down to the free clinic because, again, the whole fightin ninjas thing. So, let's just go ahead and say you ain't me for the sake of argument and I'll go ahead and explain you a thing or two about the invasion of planet meth.
First of all, you was right before. If a human was to fight a giant robot ninja, it prolly wouldn't go too well for that human. To remedy this situation, you might need you an exoskeleton or three. Or maybe you need one for each Pat in the army.
"But, hold on a minute," you're sayin now, "if you was to be trapped in a robot exoskeleton, how would you be able to use your teleportation thing you been harpin on all this time. And, while we're on the subject, can you teleport anymore after drinkin that green skull drink those ninjas fed you in Maui. Also, why the heck didn't they just poison you? I mean, they are ninjas, after all, it ain't like they're known for bein nice."
And my response is, first, don't get your panties all wadded into a bunch. That ain't got a lot to do with ninjas, but I find it's usually good advice for the prevention of discomfort, both now, when you gotta be sittin there and readin, and later, when you're doin your laundry. Second, calm down. We'll take these questions in order. The exoskeletons have been carefully and painstakingly crafted by the Squimonk out of moon spider webbing that is kept rigid by running a little bit of current through it. That current also has the benefit of giving us a super charged punch. Next, the Squimonk were nice enough to give me an anti-anti-teleporting-serum serum. And last, I don't have a clue why they didn't just poison me and I don't much appreciate you bringing up my potential imminent demise and reminding me that death is a shadowy figure constantly looming over our shoulders and driving us near to madness in the deep of the night when we got nothin but our regrets to keep us company until the birds start singin again in the dawn, Mister or Missus Macabre.
Now, at this point, you may be thinkin that your ol' pal Pat's got himself enough to just blip on down to the planet, plant his exoskeletal fist in a couple ninja faces, dust off his hands and call it a day. But you would be wrong. We ain't just tryin to defeat the ninjas, we're tryin to wipe them off the planet so our fleet of drug counselors can swoop down and start the rehabilitation process. And them ninjas have had themselves a goodly number of years to dig into their positions and so we gotta plan for the unexpected. So we also need us a whole mess of them Magma Giants to hit the planet with us and sling fire wherever they're needed. We especially need them to hit up all the volcanoes on the planet to take out any bases that might have been place there. We want, according to the Magma Giants, all their base to are belong to us, whatever the heck that's supposed to mean.
Finally, we gotta remember the most important thing about fightin Clan Platypus. They're friggin ninjas! They've had themselves all sortsa trainin in jumpin around and punchin and throwin things and whackin people and things with sticks. Me, I got into a fight once in eighth grade and fought some robot ninjas that Lindbergh sent after me earlier this year. I ain't sayin I can't handle it or nothin, I'm just sayin it's gotta be accounted for. And the best way to make up for a lack of martial arts training, in my opinion, is overwhelming firepower. In this case, it is provided by a donut rail gun mounted over each shoulder of the exoskeleton.
This fine piece of equipment had been adapted by the Squimonk from the ten different worlds on which we Pats had to recover the slugs from the 99 cent store. They took the original donut gun model and modernized it, addin all sortsa doohickies and geegaws and sciency stuff to it. Then, they made themselves a whole mess of donuts that they made superhard by keepin them out in the cold, lonely darkness of space for a couple months. When fired from the donut rail gin, which uses some sorta magnet technology, they can be fired at three times the speed of sound and can tear right through a robot ninja like a stick of butter bein hit by a speeding sun.
All of this was bein explained to me in a bit of a hurry, so forgive me if I've forgotten anything here. The long and short is, I found myself strapped into a suit of body armor and sweatin like a fat man at the summer cake giveaway as I was showed a map of where exactly I was supposed to land and punch a ninja right in his roboty face before he knew what was happenin. It was right amazing how coordinated it all was, but I didn't have much time to consider it because, right as I was thinkin about it, the countdown hit the bottom.
3...2...1...I jumped.
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