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[Lee Nub]

Muhahahahahahaha

[rokkitsci]

Flying Flechas

Thus, to wit, shall occur the following. I shall pakkidgup for transport the aforementioned strange stogies and high them hither towards the little Eyetalian kid whose name confounds me. Upon arrival, he can then determine the distribution of these stinkers amongst you poor, grovelling, desperate rabble. Whether by order of response, lottery, or highest bribe is entirely up to him. I wash my hands (and rinse my mouth) of the whole unwholesome affair. Wholly.

So let it be written. So let it be done.

Okay, chappies, the deed she is done. The die it is castrated. As it were. To wit. Er sump'n. The Flechas are flying.

However, I must needs, however, explain just one teensy weensy thing, however.

As many of you know, I have, in the past, had a smallish parting of the ways with the US of byghodz A Postage Servile. For you n00bs, and also for you not-so-n00bs who may have missed it, you can read about my travails, beginning with Nicwing's post here, then continuing in the Boli split thread here, finally in a thread which had unfortunately been deleted on accounta it contained Super Sekrit classified inflammation, but which, thanks to the miracle of the internet, was preserved in a google archive and which I was able to resurrect for your delight and entertainment here.

Which brings us to the present and the conundrum of how to transport these dogrocket stogies across the puddle over to that little Eye-talian kid whose name I just can't seem to fathom. The Poorstill Cervix is not an option. I checked on carriers like UPS and FedEx, but the rate they quoted me I wouldn't spend on the rarest of Opii X's, much less a stoogie that you'd have to pay me to smoke.

Which put me back on square one. Back to the drawing, bored, as it were. Think, think, think...

Welp, the solution came to me slowly, but I finally ciphered it out.

I'm a rokkit scientist here at the Kennedy Space Center, involved with launching the Space Shuttle (I'm the bloke wot flicks the Bic under the Solid Rocket Boosters after the 3... 2... 1... ignition!). As you may have heard, when Dumbfuck Dubya was our infamous prezzident, he declared that the Shuttle program would end on September 30, 2010. His replacement, The Great and Glorious Obama, hasn't changed that direction much, only stipulating that if we're a little late, that's okay: just finish out the remaining Space Station flights before closing up shop and turning out all the lights on our way out.

So, with only 5 flights remaining, NASA has a lot of excess Shuttle stuff that will no longer be used and held this big ol' garage sale (if you want to consider the Vehicle Assembly Building as a big fecking garage!). There was a lot of really neat stuff and the wife really got pissed at how much I spent, but I picked up some great bargains.

F'rinstance, I got this almost-new External Tank:



dirt cheap and was gonna take it home, set it on end and use it for a birdbath. But try as I might, I just couldn't get the Vespa to move the bugger and ended up having to sell it to some guy who was gonna covert it into a llama feeder.

Ennywaze, like I said, I picked up lots of other good stuff. Best was the NASA Sooper Sekrit steam-powered GPS and combination Aroma Therapy Machine. This would eventually become the heart of my delivery method, as I embarked upon building a flying machine which would carry my packet across the dangerous seas to your tiny little island waaaaaaay over there ------>.

So, first I builds me a prototype of my flying machine:



which looks like it will do the job just swell. Then, I gotta run some field tests on the SSSPGPSACATM, to make sure it will follow directions good so it can find the little Eyetalian kid. I cobbles together a test platform for the SSSPGPSACATM, and off I go:



Right away, I got me a problem. No matter what latitude and longitude, street address, intersection, landmark, or city name I put into the SSSPGPSACATM, the only place it takes me to is Ostrowski's Turkmenistani Noodle Bar in the suburbs outside Philadelphia. Now I know why I got such a great deal on it.

Ennywaze, I sets aside the issue of directional navigation for a while and get to work on my aeronautical automaton, cobbling together the various and sundry bits and pieces of Shuttle parts I'd managed to salvage. My first attempt was a tad too large and I knew I couldn't afford the gas (that would be petrol to some of you folks) to get it anywheres near Ingleland:



So, after removing a few excess parts and modifying others to serve more than one function, I got it down to this:



which was okay, but a bit too flimsy for the duration that would be needed to get it all the way over there -----> and also lacked the structure to incorporate the SSSPGPSACATM, itself a substantial piece of hardware.

Much tinkering later, I finally came up with the production model:



and now had only to solve the issue of the malfunctioning SSSPGPSACATM. I tellya, laddies, this was a real puzzlement. I took the damn thing apart, inspectored it, and reassmblied it a dozen times and couldn't figger out what the problem was. Finally ended up hauling it over to me mate's Hypergolic Bipropellant Engine Repair and Donut Shoppe for some expert advice. Damned if he didn't see the problem right away. Seems that the SSSPGPSACATM had been subcontracted out to some outfit in Nauru which submitted an outrageously low bid, but which -- unfortunate for me -- had no fecking klew how to build such a device. Wot happened was that the entire thing had been fabricated for integrated instead of separated functionality. Which meant that the GPS part and the Aroma Therapy part worked together to follow a bee line as the crow flies to whatever smell was being used in the Aroma Therapy part. Which is why the fecker kept taking me to Ostrowski's Turkmenistani Noodle Bar in the suburbs outside Philadelphia, on account of when I looked real close in the thingie where you put the stinkum, I found an old, dried up, Turkmenistani noodle stuck to the underside of the thingie.

Aha! I now had the brilliant solution to my formerly enigmatic problem and quickly set to work to integrate the SSSPGPSACATM into my wondrous contrivance and set it on its way.

And so, mates, blokes, and ponces, The Flechas are Flying, even as we speak (well,,, read, actually).

You see, once I kenned the operation of the SSSPGPSACATM, alls I had to do was to pour a bit o' tomato sauce into the aroma thingie and send it merrily on its way. I mean... the Manifesto Toucano kid (or whatever the feck his name is) is Eyetalian, right? And how many Eyetalians could there possibly be in the UK? Right! One! And lucky to get in at that. And what do Eyetalians eat? Right again! All manner of weird shite with tomato sauce poured over top of it.

So my magnificent Flying Flechas Flyer can't possibly fail to find what's-his-name and should be arriving shortly (if it has a following wind; otherwise, not so shortly). Hope you all find what you were looking for when you receive your fooking Flechas (although, for the life of me, I can't understand you people - eager to sample something very much akin to groat clusters) and set them alight.

Good luck and don't say I didn't warn you...

[tippexx]

But what I wanna know is .... Is it any good? Ostrowski's Turkmenistani Noodle Bar I mean!

[MaledettoToscano]

Hey George, can I keep the SSSPGPSACATM if it make sit past Philly?

[MaledettoToscano]

Ladies and gents,

the Rokkits of Canis Major have landed; just five minutes ago my very kind but unfortunately not very attractive neighbour (the fact she is about 70 might play a role here, maybe she might be hot for you oldies ) handed me a box containing 8 of these shaggy hairdo cigars. Apparently the SSSPGPSACATM hit her straight on the had, which might explain her slower than usual reactions... still she is thinking about suing NASA for 5MM$ for mental anguish and semi-permanent brain damage. Maybe Rokkit, you could can convince her to relent... she has a cool Morris minor .

Since we have 9 takers and 8 cigars I will generously take a step back and let you guys share. I would just ask you to send back the packages these will be delivered in... filled with one of your favourite stogies please .

[bryanj9]

Looks like an interesting smoke. Nice going