“It appears they’re at it again. Past the treeline I can see them spinning around and around. Tearing up the cedars as they creep closer. Then the one on the left takes off and out of site. The remaining one keeps churning through the brush. The ground mammals scurry out as their shelters implode. I hop on the flat cat and pay for two tickets.”
    These, and the other wild stories making the rounds about Gorbak 7 are pure scrodball. This is a safe and comfortable place. Accounts of a “tornado of wolf peckers” destroying the rainforest are entirely false. The native language does not sound like “cat humping” nor does the atmosphere smell like “weevil dick”. Who ever’s been making such claims hasn’t spent much time on the surface. I would challenge anyone to find “pools of rotting fartgrease” on this planet. So if you’ve canceled your plans to stop-by while you’re in the galaxy. Let this be an invitation to reinstate them. Gorbak 7. We’d be happy to have ya.*


Gratz meef,
Reverend Speefnarkle

*and your money.

02.07.2003

  

speef@dreamscan.com