Casa de Thought presents: FULL MODERATOR JACK IT pt1

[Deep Thought]

Well it's finally here (again). One THOUSAND post. I'll spare you the speech and just get right into it. But first, you should know that I worked on this for weeks. Lot's of research, lot's of reading, lot's of typing. A shit load of typing actually. Second, yes, it is based on the movie, Full Metal Jacket, hopefully you've seen it. Although I did not include every scene from the flick, I think you will be happy with what I did include. Third, thank you all for taking the jokes, stories, and one-liners in good humor. I have no true enemies on this board and I would gladly buy any of you the first round of beers if we ever had the pleasure of meeting in real life.

-Deep Thought

"Someone get the lights please."

"Thank you."

FULL MODERATOR JACK IT

PARRIS ISLAND, SC - MODERATOR RECRUIT TRAINING BASE, BARRACKS, EARLY MORNING – DAY 1

Moderator recruits stand at attention in front of their machines. Master Gunnery Sergeant Vamps walks along the line of blank-faced recruits.

Vamps: “I am Master Gunnery Sergeant Vamps, your Senior Moderator Instructor. From now on, you will speak only when spoken to, and the first and last words out of your filthy cock garages will be "Sir!" Do you maggots understand that? “

Recruits: (in unison) “Sir, yes, real talk, sir! “

Vamps: “Bullshit! I can't hear you. Sound off like you got a pair of subwoofers!”

Recruits: (louder) “SIR, YES, REAL TALK, SIR!”

Vamps: “If you ladies leave my island, if you survive moderator training you will be a weapon, you will be a minister of death, praying for stupidumbitch posts. But until that day you are square bears! You're the lowest form of life on the board. You are not even first posting newbies! You are nothing but unorganized grabasstic pieces of Peasant member shit!

Because I am hard, you will not like me. But the more you hate me, the more you will learn. I am hard, but I am fair! There is no bigotry here! I do not look down on white boys with braids, Laker lovers, Triple Sicx fans or netbanging dumbasses. Here you are all equally worthless! And my orders from Siccness HQ are to weed out all non-hackers who do not pack the operating systems to serve in my beloved Corps! Do you maggots understand that?”

Recruits: (in unison) “Sir, yes, real talk, sir!”

Vamps: “Bullshit! I can't hear you!”

Recruits: (louder) “SIR, YES, REAL TALK, SIR!!”

Sergeant Vamps stops in front of a female recruit, Private Sweets.

Vamps: “What's your name, web slut?”

Sweet916: (shouting) “Sir, Private Sweets, sir!”

Vamps: “Bullshit! From now on you're Private No Balls! Do you like that name?

Sweet916: (shouting) “Sir, yes, sir!

Vamps: “Well, there's one thing that you won't like, Private No Balls! We don't post pics of Crip Tuppaware parties on a daily basis on my message board!

Sweet916: “Sir, yes, sir!”

Deep Thought: (whispering) “Bwhahahahahaha!”

Vamps: “Who said that? Who the fuck said that? Who's the slimy little I-Candy forum monkey spanker down here, who just signed his own death warrant? Nobody, huh?! The fairy fucking godmother said it! Out-fucking-standing! I will e-mail you deleting instructions until you fucking die! I'll e-mail you until your assholes are sucking buttermilk!”

Sergeant Vamps grabs Private Shea by the shirt.

Vamps: “Was it you, you baldheaded little fuck, huh?!”

SHEA: “Sir, no, sir!”

Vamps: “You little piece of shit! You look like a fucking ARTIST! I'll bet it was you!”

SHEA: “Sir, no, sir!”

Deep Thought: “Sir, I said it, sir!!”

Sergeant Vamps steps up to Private Deep Thought.

Vamps: “Well...no shit. What have we got here, a fucking comedian? Private Joker? I admire your honesty. Hell, I like you. You can come over to my office and change my HTML code.”

Sergeant Vamps punches Private Deep Thought in the stomach. Deep sags to his knees.

Vamps: “You little scumbag! I've got your name! I've got your IP address! You will not post! You will not read! You will learn by the numbers. I will teach you. Now get up! Get on your feet! You had best un-fuck yourself or I will unseat your CPU and shit on your hard drive!”

Deep Thought: “Sir, yes, sir!”

Vamps: “Private Joker, why did you join my beloved Moderating Corps?”

Deep Thought: “Sir, to delete, sir!”

Vamps: “So you're a deleter!”

Deep Thought: “Sir, yes, sir!”

Vamps: “Let me see your delete face!”

Deep Thought: “Sir?”

Vamps: “You've got a delete face? AAAAAAAAAGGGH! That's a delete face. Now let me see your delete face!”

Deep Thought: “Aaaaaaaagh!”

Vamps: “Bullshit! You didn't convince me! Let me see your real delete face!”

Deep Thought: “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGH!”

Vamps: “You wouldn't have stopped me from posting a ‘What’s your favorite Lynch track?’ thread! Work on it!”

Deep Thought: “Sir, yes, sir!”

Sergeant Vamps speaks into Private Shea's face.

Vamps: “What's your excuse?”

SHEA: “Sir, excuse for what, sir?”

Vamps: “I'm asking the fucking questions here, Private. Do you understand?!”

SHEA: “Sir, yes, sir!”

Vamps: “Well thank you very much! Can I be board administrator for a while?”

SHEA: “Sir, yes, sir!”

Vamps: “Are you shook up? Are you nervous?”

SHEA: “Sir, I am, sir!”

Vamps: “Do I make you nervous?”

SHEA: “Sir!”

Vamps: “Sir, what? Were you about to run homo-smack on me?!”

SHEA: “Sir, no, sir!”

Vamps: “How many posts do you have, Private?”

SHEA: “Sir, 1032, sir, all real chop!!”

Vamps: “1032? I didn't know we allowed posting that many bullshit takes! You trying to squeeze a post in on me somewhere, huh?”

SHEA: “Sir, no, all real chop, sir.”

Vamps: “Bullshit! It looks to me like the best part of your posts went to page 5 in an hour and ended up getting deleted in 2 weeks! I think you've been cheated!”

Vamps: “Where in hell are you from anyway, Private?”

SHEA: “Sir, East San Jose, real muthafuckin talk, sir!!”

Vamps: “Oh coy! ESJ! Only tards and queers come from ESJ, Private Savage! And you don't look much like a tard to me, so that kinda narrows it down! Do you suck dicks unitl the warm manseed flows into your mouth!”

SHEA: “Sir, fuck no, sir,!”

Vamps: “Are you a faggot? Have you ever had your shit pushed in?”

SHEA: “Sir, fuck no, sir,!”

Vamps: “I'll bet you're the kind of guy that would post homo-smack and not even have the goddam common courtesy to post a ‘BWAAAHAHAHAHA!’ I'll be watching you!”

Sergeant Vamps electric slides down the line to another recruit, a short, overweight geek.

Vamps: “Did your parents have any children that lived?”

Tim: “Sir, yes, sir!”

Vamps: “I'll bet they regret that! You're so ugly you could be a modern art masterpiece! What's your name, fat body?”

Tim: “Sir, Timothy, sir!”

Vamps: “Timothy, of what, some MTV Real World episode?“

Tim: “Sir, no, sir!”

Vamps: “That name sounds like you’re a Carson Daly fan! Are you a Carson Daly fan?”

Tim: “Sir, no, sir!”

Vamps: “Do you post funny pics?”

Tim: “Sir, no, sir!”

Vamps: “Bullshit! I'll bet you cover the whole damn board with stupid pics!”

Tim: “Sir, no, sir!”

Vamps: “I don't like the name Timothy! Only tardlings are called Timothy! From now on you're Timmah!”

Tim: “Sir, yes, sir, real talk!”

Private Timothy has the trace of a strange smile on his face.

Vamps: “Do you think I'm stupid, Private Timmah? Do you think I like gay midget porn pics?”

Tim: “Errr, no, sir!”

Vamps: “Then wipe that disgusting website off your monitor!”

Tim: “Sir, yes, sir!”

Vamps: “Well, any fucking time, sweetheart!”

Tim: “Sir, I'm trying, sir.”

Vamps: “Private Timmah, I'm gonna give you three seconds - exactly three fucking seconds - to wipe that stupid-looking skat website off your monitor, or I will gouge out your mouse ball and skull fuck you with it! One!…Two!…Three!”

Private Timothy clears his screen but hits refresh involuntarily.

Tim: “Sir, I can't help it, sir!”

Vamps: “Bullshit! Get on your knees, scumbag!”

Private Timothy gets down on his well-worn knees.

Vamps: “Now delete your post!”

Private Timothy places his hairy palms on Sergeant Vamps’ keyboard as if to delete Vamps’ post.

Vamps: “Goddamn it! YOUR post, numbnuts!!”

Private Timothy reaches for Sergeant Vamps’ keyboard. Vamps jerks it away.

Vamps: “Don't pull my fucking keyboard over there! I said delete your post! Now lean forward and delete yourself!”

Private Timothy leans forward so that his hands rest on his own keyboard. Tim hits the delete button. He gags and starts to turn red in the face.

Vamps: “Are you through using police-brutality-against-small-children sigs?”

Tim: (barely able to speak) “Sir, yes, sir.”

Vamps: “Bullshit! I can't hear you!”

Tim: (gasping) “Sir, yes, sir!

Vamps: “Bullshit! I still can't hear you! Sound off like you got a cable modem!

Tim: (gagging) “SIR, YES, SIR!”

Vamps: “That's enough! Get on your feet!”

Private Timothy gets to his feet, breathing heavily.

Vamps: “Private Timmah, you had best square your ass away and start posting quality takes or I will definitely fuck you up!”

Tim: “Sir, yes, sir!”

 

[Deep Thought]

pt.2

PARRIS ISLAND, DAY 2, AFTERNOON

The training platoon is typing in formation. Sergeant Vamps is calling cadence.

Vamps: “Deleeete, lock, deleeete, lock, deleeete, lock, deleeete, lock.”

Deep Thought: (narration) Parris Island, South Carolina. The United Siccness Moderating Corps Recruit Depot. A 12 week college for the brain-tough and the got-a-screw-loose posters.

Vamps: “MiZnKoNsPiQuOz and Papa were laying in bed.”

Recruits: (chanting in cadence) “MiZnKoNsPiQuOz and Papa were laying in bed.”

Vamps: “MiZnKoNsPiQuOz rolled over, and this is what she said...”

Recruits: “MiZnKoNsPiQuOz rolled over, and this is what she said...”

Vamps: “Bwha-ha-ha, delete Knuckles’ post...”

Recruits: “Bwha-ha-ha, delete Knuckles’ post...”

Vamps: “Bwha-ha-ha, lock random threads...”

Recruits: “Bwha-ha-ha, lock random threads...”

Vamps: “Run those KILL-A-HOE’s....”

Recruits: “Run those KILL-A-HOE’s....”

Vamps: “Cuzz I don’t like what they said!”

Recruits: “Cuzz I don’t like what they said!”

Vamps: “Good for you!”

Recruits: “Good for you!”

Vamps: “Better for me!”

Recruits: “Better for me!”

Vamps: “Mmm, good.”

Recruits: “Mmm, good.“

Vamps: “Up in the morning with the rising sun.”

Recruits: “Up in the morning with the rising sun.”

Vamps: “Gotta read all day till the reading’s done.”

Recruits: “Gotta read all day till the reading’s done”

Vamps: “The big sig posters are idi-yahts.”

Recruits: “The big sig posters are idi-yahts.”

Vamps: “Delete their posts and commercial spots.”

Recruits: “Delete their posts and commercial spots.”

PARADE GROUNDS, DAY

Sergeant Vamps has the recruits scrolling through the 9-1-Siccness Forum. The recruits carry laptops.

Vamps: “Scroll, scroll, scroll. Click. Read. Scroll, scroll, scroll. Click. Read.”

Private Timothy momentarily pulls up jerkinworld.com, but immediately corrects himself and goes back to the Siccness. Sergeant Vamps spots this and walks up to him.

Vamps: “Private Timmah, what are you trying to do to my beloved Corps?”

Tim: “Sir, I don't know, sir!”

Vamps: “You ARE dumb, Private Timmah, but do you expect me to believe that you don't know the Siccness from jerkinworld.com?

Tim: “Sir, no, sir!”

Vamps: “Then you did that on purpose! You want to join EDJ and the Jergens Patrol?!”

Tim: “Sir, no, sir!.

Vamps slaps Private Timothy hard across the left cheek with his mouse.

Vamps: “What button was that, Private Timmah?!”

Tim: “Sir, left button, sir!”

Vamps: “Are you sure, Private Timmah?”

Tim: “Sir, yes, sir,!”

Sergeant Vamps slaps Private Timothy hard across the right cheek with his mouse, knocking his bike helmet off.

Vamps: “What button was that, Private Timmah?”

Tim: “Sir, right button, sir!

Vamps: “Don't fuck with me again, Timmah! Pick up your fucking tard helmet!”

Tim: “Sir, yes, sir!”

LATE AFTERNOON

Sergeant Vamps is working with the platoon. At the rear is Private Timothy, his fatigue patterned Dickies down around his ankles; he is sucking his thumb and he carries his laptop cover-down.

BARRACKS, NIGHT

Sergeant Vamps walks along the line of recruits in black Siccness thongs holding their laptops and standing at attention in front of their workstations.

Vamps: “Tonight...you knob gobblers will sleep with your laptops! You will give your computer a name! Because this is the only on-line time you people are going to get! Your days of finger-banging on an old Commodore 64 through it’s pretty pink keyboard overlay are over! You are married to this piece of machinery, this weapon of aluminum and silicone! And you will be faithful! Boot UP! Prepare to sign on!!

On Sergeant Vamps' command the platoon mount their laptops into their docking stations and then stand at attention.

Vamps: “Sign ON!”

The recruits all log on.

Vamps: “Pray!”

Recruits: (in unison) “This is my computer. There are many like it, but this one is mine. My computer is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it, as I must master my posts. Without me my computer is useless. Without my computer, I am useless. I must use it to moderate my forum true. I must post better than my enemy who is trying to run me. I must ban him before he runs me. I will. Before Roloc I swear this creed. My computer and myself are defenders of my forum. We are the masters of the tards. We are the savior’s of the board. So be it. Until there are no web-bitches, but peace. Please celieve.

Vamps: “READ!”

The recruits grab their mice.

Vamps: “Moderate!”

Sergeant Vamps leaves the barracks.

PARADE GROUNDS, DAWN

Sergeant Vamps drills the platoon.

Vamps: “Right button...click! This is not your daddy's palm pilot, Savage! Left button...click! Move your mouse around your keyboard, not your keyboard around your mouse! Put your mouse four inches from your keyboard, Timmah! FOUR INCHES!”

BARRACKS, NIGHT

Sergeant Vamps marches the recruits through the squad bay. Their laptops are under their right arm and their left hands clutch their genitals.

Vamps: “This is my computer! This is my gun!”

Recruits: “This is my computer! This is my gun!”

Vamps: “This is for posting, this is for fun!”

Recruits: “This is for posting, this is for fun!”

They repeat this over and over again as they march up and down the squad bay.

OBSTACLE COURSE, DAY

The recruits scroll through the board, looking for things to delete.

Vamps: “Ten fucking seconds! It should take you no more than ten fucking seconds to spot that naked SheenaNicole pic. Quickly, edit it out! There ain't one left clicking private in this platoon that's gonna graduate until they can spot a naked SheenaNicole pic in less than ten fucking seconds!”

Vamps: “Next two privates! Quickly!”

Privates Roxy and HotCarolinaBabe read through the thread.

Vamps: “Get through that goddamn thread! Move it! Next two.”

Privates Deep Thought and Blight go over easily.

Vamps: “Private Joker, are you a deleter?”

Deep Thought: “Sir, yes, sir!”

Vamps: “Let me hear your delete cry!”

Deep Thought: “AAAAAAAAAAAGH!”

Vamps: “Next two privates, go!”

Privates Timothy and HERESY. Tim is hopeless.

Vamps: “Quickly! Get your fat ass over there and edit that thread Private Timmah! Oh, that's right, Private Timmah...don't make any fucking effort to find the child porn link! If God wanted you to find that smut he would‘ve e-mailed it to your ass by now, wouldn't He?

Tim: “Sir, yes, sir! “

Vamps: “Edit the post, Timmah!”

Tim: “Sir, yes, sir!

Vamps: “What the hell is the matter with you anyway? I'll bet you if there was some gay midget porn pics on that thread you could find them! Couldn't you?!”

Tim: “Sir, yes, sir!”

Private Timothy drops his mouse.

Vamps: “Your keyboard looks like it has about a hundred and fifty fluid ounces of Jergens in it, Timmah. Do you know that?”

Tim: “Sir, yes, sir!”

SIG MAKING CLASS, DAY

Private Timothy tries to find the User CP button.

Vamps: “Get in there, geek boy! Quickly! Create a sig! Move it, Timmah! Move it! You post like old people fuck. Do you know that, Private Timmah? You're too slow! Move it, move it! Private Timmah, whatever you do, DON’T create a sig! That would break my fucking heart!”

Private Timothy freezes at the Submit Reply button.

Vamps: “Click it! Well, what in the fuck are you waiting for, Private Timmah? Create a sig! Move it, move it, move it! Are you quitting on me? Well, are you! Then quit you slimy fucking walrus-looking piece of shit! Get the fuck off my board! Get the fuck off of my board! Now!”

Private Timothy goes back to the front page.

Vamps: “Move it! I'm gonna’ delete your web browser so you cannot contaminate the rest of the net! I will motivate you, Private Timmah!”

BARRACKS, PRE-DAWN

Sergeant Vamps and two Junior Moderator Instructors, named Cranky & BAMMER stride into the Squad Bay. The lights go on. Vamps bangs loudly on an empty mini-tower case which he carries into the room.

Vamps: “Reveille! Reveille! Reveille! Drop your cocks and grab your socks! Today is Sunday! Divine worship of Siccmade Muzicc at 0800!”

Sergeant Vamps stops in front of Private Deep Thought’s workstation.

Vamps: “Private Savage! Private Joker!”

Deep Thought & SHEA: (in unison) “Sir, yes, sir!”

Vamps: “As soon as you finish your bunks, I want you two turds to clean the head.”

Deep Thought & SHEA: (in unison) “Sir, right on, sir!”

Vamps: “I want that head so sanitary and squared away that Zagg herself would be proud to go in there and take a dump!”

Deep Thought & SHEA: (in unison) “Sir, yes, sir! “

Vamps: “Private Joker, do you love Brotha Lynch Hung?”

 

[Deep Thought]

pt.3

Deep Thought: “Sir, no, sir!”

Sergeant Vamps throws down the mini-tower case with a loud bang.

Cranky: “Oh coy! Private Joker, I don't believe we heard you correctly!”

Deep Thought: “Sir, the private said ‘No, sir,’ sir!”

BAMMER: “Wy, yu lituhl TRL fagget! Ewe make me wont to vomit!”

Sergeant Vamps slaps Private Deep Thought, hard across the cheek.

Vamps: “You goddam communist heathen, you had best sound off that you love Brotha Lynch or I'm gonna stomp your guts out! Now you do love the Lynch, don't you?!”

Deep Thought: “Sir, negative, sir!!”

Vamps: “Private Joker, are you trying to offend me?!”

Deep Thought: “Sir, negative an thas real, sir!!! Sir, the private believes that any answer he gives will be wrong! And the Senior Moderator Instructor will delete his post total if he reverses himself, sir!”

Vamps: “Who's your squad leader rudie poof?”

Deep Thought: “Sir, the private's squad leader is Private No Balls, sir!!!”

Vamps: “Private No Balls!”

Dropping her Jackhammer Jesus, Private Sweets quickly crip-walks her way over to stand at attention near Sergeant Vamps.

Sweet916: “Sir, Private No Balls reporting as ordered, sir!

Vamps: “Private No Balls, you're fired! Private Joker is promoted to squad leader!”

Sweet916: “Sir, yes, sir!”

Private Sweets just as quickly crip-walks away.

Vamps: “Private Timmah!”

Not-so-quickly Private Timothy clumsily cabbage-patches over to stand at attention near Sergeant Vamps.

Tim: “Private Timmah reporting as ordered, sir!”

Vamps: “Private Timmah, from now on Private Joker is your new squad leader, and you will bunk with him! He'll teach you everything. He will teach you how to post.”

Tim: “Sir, yes, sir!”

Vamps: “Private Joker is silly and he is ignorant, but he's got guts, and guts is enough. Now, you ladies carry on.”

Deep Thought, SHEA & Tim: (in unison) “Sir, real talk, sir!”

COMPUTER TRAINING CLASS, DAY

Private Deep Thought patiently explains the easy disassembly of a blacleif post to Timothy.

Deep Thought: “The quote. The quote goes before the paste. The “quote” button Timothy, there you go. Now the smiles legend, see, use the one with rolleyes.”

BARRACKS, NIGHT

Private Deep Thought and Timothy sitting on their footlockers. Deep instructs Tim in the correct method of registering a troll.

Deep Thought: “…and the password goes to the new hotmail account. Open e-mail to get the password. Password to hotmail, e-mail to get the password. See how easy that was? Deleting the siccness cookies first is the key.”

POST PROPPING CLASS, DAY

At his workstation, Private Deep Thought gently talks Timothy through a “Real Talk” post.

Deep Thought: “Just type ‘R-e-a-l’, then a space. Ok, at this point you can either type ‘t-a-l-k’ or ‘c-h-o-p’. That'a boy. That's it. Now just bold the text, and you're home free. Ready? Just type it. That'a boy. Now hit submit. All right?”

Private Timothy breathes heavily. He is scared but he manages to submit reply.

Deep Thought: “There you go. Congratulations, Timmy Loc. You did it.”

BARRACKS, NIGHT

Private Deep Thought instructs Timothy in the correct way insert a plunger.

Deep Thought: “You bend the tard over, grab the plunger with a two-handed grip, and just ram it in. OK, Got it? You do it.

Private Timothy looks down uncertainly at the plunger.

Tim: “I gave up my own Applebee’s for this?”

PLUNGER PRACTICE RANGE, DAY

Paper net-thug targets are raised and lowered. Red markers indicating hits abound. Sergeant Vamps addresses the recruits.

Vamps: “The deadliest weapon in the world is a moderator and his plunger. It is your killer instinct which must be harnessed if you expect to survive in a flame war. Your computer is only a tool. It is a hard plunger that kills. If your killer instincts are not clean and strong you will hesitate at the moment of truth. You will not plunger. You will be plungered. And then you will be in a world of shit. Because moderators are not allowed to get run without permission! Do you stupidumbitches understand?”

Recruits: (in unison) “Sir, yes, real chop, sir!”

BARRACKS, NIGHT

The recruits in their Siccness thongs stand at attention in two facing rows on top of their footlockers, arms outstretched, hands held rigidly in front of them, laptops open for inspection. Sergeant Vamps moves along the row of men and bitches while doing the snake. He smacks Private Juan Million’s hand.

Vamps: “Wash the KY off. You’ll gunk up your mouse pad.”

Sergeant Vamps points at the feet of Private GANGSTAEIGHT.

Vamps: “Birkenstocks! Change ‘em.”

Sergeant Vamps stops in front of Private Timothy and notices his browser is minimized. He picks up the laptop and holds it up to Tim.

Vamps: “Jesus H. Christ! Private Timmah, why is your browser opened?”

Tim: “Sir, I don't know, sir!”

Vamps: “Private Timmah, if there is one thing in this world that I hate, it is a minimized browser! You know that, don't you?”

Tim: “Sir, yes, sir!”

Vamps: “If it wasn't for dickheads like you, there wouldn't be any system crashes in this world, would there?”

Tim: “Sir, no, sir!”

Sergeant Vamps open’s the browser and hit’s refresh.

Vamps: “Well, now...let's just see where you been surfing!”

Sergeant Vamps freezes. He turns the laptop around with disgust.

Vamps: “Holy Jesus! What is that? What is that, Private Timmah?!”

Tim: “Sir, it’s bangbus.com’s main website, sir!"

Vamps: “A porn movie site?!”

Tim: “Sir, yes, sir!”

Vamps: “How did it get here?”

Tim: “Sir, I took it from my favorites, sir,!”

Vamps: “Are porn movie sites allowed on your computer, Private Timmah?”

Tim: “Sir, no, sir,!”

Vamps: “Are you allowed to watch porn movie sites, Private Timmah?”

Tim: “Sir, no, sir!”

Vamps: “And why not, Private Timmah?”

Tim: “Sir, because I'll turn out like MR. TYPCEE, sir!”

Vamps: “Because you are an undersexed, immature, horn dog, Private Timmah!”

Tim: “Sir, yes, sir!”

Vamps: “Then why did you hide a porn site in your favorites, Private Timmah?”

Tim: “Sir, because I was bored, sir!”

Vamps: “Because you were ‘bored?”

Holding out the laptop, Sergeant Vamps walks down the row of recruits still standing with their arms outstretched.

Vamps: “Private Timmah has dishonored himself and dishonored the platoon! I have tried to help him, but I have failed! I have failed because you have not helped me! You people have not given Private Timmah the proper motivation! So, from now on, whenever Private Timmah fucks up, I will not punish him, I will punish all of you! And the way I see it, ladies, you owe me for one porn movie site! Now, get on your workstations!”

Vamps: (to Private Timothy) “Take it back!”

He shoves the laptop into Private Timothy’s lubed hands.

 

[Deep Thought]

pt.4

Vamps: “They're paying for it, you read it!”

Sergeant Vamps turns to the recruits.

Vamps: “Go to blackanaldestruction.net. Ready...post.”

The platoon starts posting.

Recruits: (chanting in cadence) “One, two, three, four! I love anal porn! One, two, three, four! I love anal porn!…“

While the platoon post love letters to GameRecGame, Private Timothy slowly surfs bangbus.com

BARRACKS, LATE NIGHT

We see a towel on a bed. A portable mp3 player is tossed on the towel. The towel is folded over the mp3 player forming a weapon. A hand picks up the new towel weapon and bangs it on the mattress making a dull thud. Private Timothy is asleep in his bunk. The platoon silently slips out of their beds and form up around him. A blanket is thrown over Tim, each corner held down by a recruit, pinning him to the bed. Shea shoves a stiff tube sock into Tim's mouth. He is helpless. The platoon files past beating Tim with the portable mp3 players wrapped in towels. Tim’s screams are muffled by the crusty tube sock-gag. Deep Thought is the last one. He stands back from the bed.

SHEA: (to Deep Thought) “Do it! Do it!”

Private Deep Thought hesitates, then moves forward and hits Tim hard several times with his wrapped mp3 player. Then Deep jumps into his bunk. The corners of the blanket are released and Tim is left to cry like a bitch.

PLUNGER PRACTICE RANGE, BLEACHERS, DAY

The platoon sits on bleachers facing Sergeant Vamps. Sergeant Vamps looks around.

Vamps: “Anybody know who FaTaL NyGhTmArE was?”

Almost everybody raises his hand.

Vamps: “Private No Balls?”

Sweet916: “Sir, he ran Gilr(4)y, sir!”

Vamps: “That's right, and do you know what he used?”

Sweet916: “Sir, I think it was with altered pics using MS paint, sir!

The recruits laugh at "MS paint".

Vamps: “All right, knock it off! Two hundred and fifty pixels! He was using two hundred and fifty pixels and posting from a 486 SX computer and still, FaTaL NyGhTmArE was able to alter 5 pics in 2 hours. And posted two head shots! Do any of you people know where this individual learned to post?”

Private TRAGIC LOSSES raises his hand.

Vamps: “Private Looser?”

TRAGIC LOSSES: “Sir, in the Moderator Corps, sir!”

Vamps: “In the Moderator Corps! Outstanding! This individual showed what one motivated poster and his machine can do! And before you ladies leave my island, you will be able to do the same thing!”

Private Timothy stares intently at Sergeant Vamps.

LATRINE, NIGHT

In the server room Privates Shea and Deep Thought are running scandisk. Deep stops, looks around to be sure they are alone, and turns to Shea.

Deep Thought: “Timothy talks to his laptop.”

Private Shea keeps scanning.

SHEA: “Yeah?”

Deep Thought: “I don't think Timothy can hack it anymore. I think Timothy's a 404.”

Pause.

SHEA: “It don't surprise me.”

They both go back to scanning. Private Deep Thought speaks again after some silence.

Deep Thought: “I want to slip my zip drive into your sister’s machine. What'll you take in trade?”

SHEA: “What have you got?”

PLUNGER PRACTICE RANGE, DAY

Sergeant Vamps kneels behind Private Timothy, looking on with approval. Tim finishes a good plungering and replenishes his handles.

Vamps: “Outstanding, Private Timmah! I think we've finally found something that you do well!”

Tim: “Sir, yes, sir!”

Vamps: “Private Timmah, you are definitely born again hard! Hell, I may even allow you to serve as a plungerman in my beloved Corps.”

Tim: “Sir, yes, real chop, sir!”

Deep Thought: (narration) Graduation is only a few days away and the recruits of Siccness.net are salty. They are ready to delete their own posts and ask for seconds. The moderator instructors are proud to see that we are growing beyond their control. The Moderator Corps does not want ‘bots. The Moderator Corps wants deleter’s. The Moderator Corps wants to build indestructible mod’s, mod’s without fear.

BARRACKS, LAST DAY, DAY

Sergeant Vamps talks to the recruits formed up in a school-circle.

Vamps: “Today you people are no longer square bears. Today you are moderators. You're part of a brotherhood. From now on, until the day you die, wherever you are, every moderator is your brother. Most of you will go to the Open Forum. Some of you will not come back. But always remember this: moderators may quit or get run, that's what we're here for! But the Moderator Corps lives forever. And that means YOU live forever!”

LATER

Sergeant Vamps is handing out assignments to the platoon.

Vamps: “KaLiBaH!”

KaLiBaH: “Sir, yes, sir!”

Vamps: “0300, The Detox. Big Robb!”

Big Robb: “Sir, yes, sir!”

Vamps: “0200, Killa Vally Ent. No Balls!”

Sweet916: “Sir, yes, sir!”

Vamps: “1800, Sista Side of the Siccness. You go out and find more Sistas. Savage!

SHEA: “Sir, yes, sir!”

Vamps: “0100, 25/8!”

SHEA: “Sir, yes, real muthafuckin talk, sir!”

Vamps: “Joker!”

Deep Thought: “Sir, yes, sir!”

Vamps: “0600, Administrator Mail Announcements. You gotta be shitting me, Joker! You think you're a Siccness employee? Do you think you're some kind of fucking webmaster?”

Deep Thought: “Sir, I wrote code for my high school web page, sir!”

Vamps: “Jesus H. Christ, you're not a spam-jockey, you're a deleter!”

Deep Thought: “A deleter, yes, sir!”

Vamps: “Private Timmah!”

Private Timothy doesn't answer.

Vamps: “Private Timmah!”

We see Private Timothy in close-up, now completely withdrawn, barely able to answer Sergeant Vamps.

Tim: “Sir, yes, sir!”

Vamps: “You forget your fucking name? 0330, Miscellaneous Information. You made it.”

BARRACKS LAST DAY, LATE NIGHT

The platoon sleeps. Private Deep Thought walks slowly down the squad bay.

Deep Thought: (narration) Our last night on the island. I draw tard-watch.

Private Deep Thought hears a muffled sound. He isn't sure where it comes from. He slowly enters the latrine.

LATRINE

Running his flashlight across the room Private Deep Thought sees Timothy sitting on a toilet, polishing a plunger. Tim looks up at Deep and smiles. It is a frightening smile.

Tim: (strange voice) “Hi, Joker.”

Private Deep Thought stares at Timothy for a few seconds. Tim has 2 rubber plunger tops ready to screw onto a handle.

Deep Thought: “Are those...loaded plungers?”

Tim: “Seven-six-two centimeter, full moderator jack it.”

Private Timothy smiles grotesquely.

Deep Thought: “Timothy...if Vamps comes in here and catches us, we'll both be in a world of shit.”

Tim: “I am...in a world...of shit!”

Private Timothy gets to his feet, snaps his plunger to port arms, and starts executing the Manual of Plungers.

Tim: (shouting) “Left shoulder...arms! Right shoulder...arms! Real talk! Order...arms!”

Private Timothy picks up the plunger tip and screws it onto the handle and smartly brings the plunger down to the order arms position.

Tim: (shouting) “This is my plunger. There are many like it, but this one is mine”

By now the platoon is awake. Suddenly Sergeant Vamps bursts from his room, wearing his purple Shaq underoos and “Cant Touch This” half-shirt. Vamps storms into the latrine.

Vamps: “What is this Mickey Mouse shit? What in the name of Roloc are you animals doing in my head?”

(to Private Deep Thought) “Why is Private Timmah out of his bunk after lights out?! Why is Private Timmah holding that plunger? Why aren't you stomping Private Timmah's guts out?!”

Deep Thought: “Sir, it is the private's duty to inform the Senior Moderator Instructor that Private Timmah has a fresh plunger and has it oiled and ready, sir!”

Sergeant Vamps and Private Timothy look at each other. Timothy smiles from the depths of his own hell of hacked human fluid websites. Vamps focuses all of his considerable powers of intimidation, into his best Big-Lurch-on-angel-dust voice:

Vamps: “Nooooow you listen to meeeeee, Private Timmaaaal, and, yoooou listen gooooood. Eeeeeyyyyyye want that plunger and eeeeyyyyeeee want it now! Yoooou will place that plunger ooooon the deck at your feeeeet and step back awaaaaaaay from it.”

With a twisted smile on his face, Private Timothy aims his plunger at Sergeant Vamps. Timothy looks suddenly calm. His eyes, his manner, are those of a plumber who has found his tool.

 

[Deep Thought]

pt.5

Vamps: “What is your major malfunction, numbnuts?!! Didn't x-loc and smurf show you enough attention when you were a Peasant member?!!!”

SSPPLLLAAAATTTT!

The plunger hits Sergeant Vamps right in the brown-eye. He falls back dead. Privates Deep Thought and Timothy stand looking at the body. Then Tim looks at Deep and slowly raises his other plunger.

Deep Thought: (trembling) “Easy, Timothy. Go easy, man.”

Private Timothy breathes heavily, and keeps the plunger aimed at Deep Thought. Deep is scared shitless. Timothy looks at Deep for several seconds and slowly lowers the plunger. He stumbles back a few steps and places the plunger inside the toilet bowl, away from Deep. As he stares into space, a strange peaceful look transforms his face. Suddenly, he jumps up and impales himself on the plunger.

Tim: “Tsssssss…Haaaaaaa…*

He was dead.

Deep Thought: “Damn, damn, DAAAMN…!“

STREET CORNER, OUTSIDE RYAN’S STEAKHOUSE, DAY

Threads are being added to, members are reading and posting. Swinging her hips with exaggerated sexiness, MOSA in a mini-skirt, walks towards a cafe' table on the pavement where Deep Thought and Juan Million are seated throwing back Mike’s Hard Lemonades. She stops at their table.

MOSA: “Hey, baby, you got girlfriend?”

Deep Thought: “Not just this minute.”

MOSA: “Well, baby, me so horny. Me so horny. Me love you long time. You party?”

Deep Thought: “Yeah, we might party. How much?”

MOSA: “Fifteen posts to me.”

Deep Thought: “Fifteen posts for both of us?”

MOSA: “No. Each you fifteen posts. Me love you long time. Me so horny.”

Deep Thought: “Fifteen posts too boo-coo. Five posts each.”

MOSA: “Me suckee-suckee. Me love you too much.”

Deep Thought: “Five posts is all my mom allows me to type.”

MOSA: “Okay! Ten post each.”

Deep Thought: “What do we get for ten posts?”

MOSA: “Everything you want.”

Deep Thought: “Everything?”

MOSA: “Everything.”

Deep Thought: “Well Juan old buddy, feel like wasting some of your hard-earned time?”

Juan Million: “Just a minute.”

Juan Million raises his digital camera and starts posting .jpg’s of Deep Thought and MOSA. MOS’ strikes quick poses for the camera. Deep puts his arm around her.

Deep Thought: “You know half these Sista Side of the Siccness chicks are ladycrizzip187 clones? The other half, have viruses. For future reference, make sure you only download images from the reallas.”

A young tard named LaKeRzz8 comes onto the thread and reposts the image of MOSA with an idiotic comment. The tard asks an accomplice sitting on the thread called WiCkEd to rack him. Then in mockery the tard posts a few LMAO’s before jumping off the thread. Deep Thought laughs.

SICCNESS CHATROOM, A MEETING OF MODERATORS IS IN PROGRESS PRESIDED OVER BY CURBIE, AFTERNOON.

Deep Thought, Curbie, and six other moderators are seated around a large messy table covered with Cheeto’s, Krispy Kreme’s and a water pipe.

Curbie: “Okay, guys, let's keep it short and sweet today. Anybody got anything new?”

Deep Thought: “There's a rumor going around that the Tard Ceasefire is gonna be cancelled.”

Curbie: “Big Bad Los Angeles rear-echelon paranoia.”

Deep Thought: “A bro at AllHipHop.com says the Icy Hot Stuntaz might try to pull off something big during the e*tard holiday.”

Curbie: “They say the same thing every year.”

Deep Thought: “There's a lot of talk about it, sir.”

Curbie: “I wouldn't lose any sleep over it. The e*tard holiday is like the Fourth of July, Christmas and New Year all rolled into one. Every idiot on The Siccness will be banging out SheenaNicole pics, wearing their lucky ponchos, and faking their own deaths.”

Curbie shifts to the next subject.

Curbie: “All right ...ladycrizzip187 and entourage are due here next week. I want someone to be there on the board and stick with her for a couple of days. Uh, No Balls, you take it.”

Sweet916: “Aye-aye, sir.”

Curbie: “Get me some good low-crop pic stuff. Don't make it too obvious, I DON’T want to see fur and or a possible nut sac.”

Sweet916: “Yes, sir, please celieve it.”

Curbie: (reading) "I Got Banned’ - Lend a helping hand…blah, blah, blah…help me get reinstated.” If we ask for herpes infested tards like Johnny Arson and Diggity Dank to e-mail us to get reinstated, we are wimps. If they e-mail US to be reinstated, they are pussies. Got that?”

All nod in agreement.

Curbie: (reading) "Would You Bang this Cuban Chick?’ - A young Eye-Candy regular gets over on several Jergens Patrolers." That's good, but why say ‘Eye-Candy regular? Is there an irregular? Wait, never mind.”

Several, “Bwhahahaha’s” ensue.

Curbie: (reading) "Not While We're Reading’ - Tard’s learn moderator’s on a search and destroy mission. Mod’s don't like to see doctors humping unconscious patients pics while eating chow." Search and destroy.’ Uh, we have a new directive from Siccness HQ on this. In the future, in place of ‘search and destroy’, substitute the phrase "lock and delete." Got it?”

Deep Thought: “Got it. Very catchy.”

Curbie: “And Joker...where's the beef?”

Deep Thought: “Sir?”

Curbie: “The ‘kill’, Joker. The bans. I mean, all that deleting, the moderator’s must've found something ban worthy.

Deep Thought: “Didn't see 'em.”

Curbie: “Joker, I've told you, we publish stories of two basic tactics here. Moderator’s who give half their time at work to The Siccness; running tards, whilst winning the hearts and mind’s of posters, and moderating actions that results in a ban, thus winning the War. Now you must have seen blood trails...plunger marks..something?”

Deep Thought: “It was a Sunday morning, sir.”

Curbie: “Well, that's why God passed the law of probability. Now rewrite your e-mail and give it a happy ending - say, uh, one ban. Make it a tasteless nic like CUMDEEPINHERASS or a netbanger. Which?”

Deep Thought: “Whichever you say.”

Curbie: “Members like reading about banned netbangers.”

Deep Thought: “Okay, an e*thug. How about T-Spoon?”

A few laughs.

Curbie: “Joker, maybe you'd like our guys to read the board and feel bad. I mean, in case you didn't know it, this is not a particularly popular board right now. Now, it is our job to report the news that these rap-is-oversaturated morons will take notice of.”

Deep Thought: “Sir, maybe you should go out on some threads yourself. I'm sure you could find a lot more blood trails and plunger marks.”

Some laughs.

Curbie: “Joker, I've had my ass in the grass. Can't say I liked it much. Lots of trolls and too dangerous. As it happens, my present duties keep me where I belong. In the rear with the gear.”

MODERATOR BASE, DUSK

Rows of threads. In the distance, firework gifs.

Deep Thought: (narration) “Siccness.net. The Year of the Field Mouse. Tard’s Lunar New Year's Eve. skitz is posting self webcam pics of himself stroking his pussy to celebrate.”

 

[Deep Thought]

pt.6

MODERATOR BARRACKS, NIGHT

Deep Thought, Poetic Chocolate, Killahoe415 and the others are in their bunks, reading, surfing porn, and smoking dope. Deep Thought is writing an e-mail.

Deep Thought: (yawns and stretches) “I am fucking bored to death, man. I gotta get back in the shit. I ain't had a thread dedicated to me in anger in weeks.”

Killahoe415: “Joker’s so tough he'd read an EDJ, “RAPIST OR A Fag?” thread, then ask for seconds.”

Some laughs.

Deep Thought: (in John Wayne voice) “Listen up there pilgrim. A day without Freudian slip gay-smack is like a day without sunshine.”

Killahoe415: “Sheeeyat! Joker thinks the bad threads are HERESY's ramblings.”

Some laughs and a small fart.

Killahoe415: “He's never been in a flame war. It's hard to talk about it man. It's like on the Flows forum.”

Blight: “Aw, you weren't ever in the Flows forum, Saveahoe. You weren't even in the Sports forum.”

Killahoe415: “Eat shit and die, you fucking Irish-rugby-player-rasslin-in-the-jacuzzi Pittsburgian! You fucking poge! I was there, man. I was in the shit with the Knights.”

Deep Thought: (in John Wayne voice) “Don't listen to any of Saveahoe’s bullshit, Jailbait. Sometimes he thinks he's a grafix genius.

Killahoe415: “Don’t listen to Joker, new Sista. He knows “ti ti”. Very little. You know he's never been in a flame war, 'cause he ain't got the stare.”

Poetic Chocolate: “The stare?”

Killahoe415: “The thousand-word stare. A moderator gets it after he's been in the forums for too long. It's like…it's like you really seen beyond the words. I got it. All Siccness moderator’s got it. And you'll have it too.”

Poetic Chocolate: “I will?”

BornSin: “Hey, Saveahoe. How do you stop five Gilroy Norteno dudes in penny loafers and tight sweaters from slamming a Sista?”

Killahoe415: “Fuck you, Sin.”

BornSin: “Post pictures of REAL taco’s to ‘em.”

Laughter and more farting. They are startled by the dull boom of tard posts outside.

Killahoe415: “Incoming! Oh shit!”

Blight: (calmly) “They're outgoing.”

Killahoe415: “That ain't outgoing!”

Some closer posts, much closer. The mod’s grab their plungers, tinfoil hats and run outside.

Poetic Chocolate: “Joker, is this for real?”

Deep Thought: “Girl, ask yo momma!”

ON THE SMACK BOARD

Members are posting everywhere. Locked threads here and there. A racist post lands in a thread, then others follow. Fires on folders are breaking out.

MODERATOR BUNKER, NIGHT

Deep Thought loads an M-72 automatic plunger launcher, then hunches down watching the main window of siccness.net.

Deep Thought: “Hey, I hope they're just spamming us. I ain't ready for this shit.”

Blight: “Real chop.”

The sound on their modem’s indicate posts approaching. The moderator’s get set. The posts fly into the board. The Moderator’s open fire with locks. The thread is hit by a hail of Yuck and Lunasicc rumor threads; it explodes and starts burning. Tard troops led by Seattlez Finest and a few bad trolls follow the threads with new posts. The threads are locked by a withering fire from the moderators. After heavy fighting the attack peters out. People yell, "Cease fire." The posting trails off.

MODERATOR BASE, DAWN

Deep Thought and Poetic Chocolate walk through the wreckage of the night's battle. Tard’s that have been banned are led past.

Deep Thought: (narration) “The enemy has very deceitfully taken advantage of the Tard Ceasefire to launch an offensive all over the board. So far, we've had it pretty easy here. But, we seem to be the exception.”

SICCNESS CHATROOM, ANOTHER MEETING OF MODERATORS IS IN PROGRESS PRESIDED OVER BY CURBIE, MORNING.

Curbie: “e*tards and netbangers have hit every major forum on the board, and hit 'em hard. The Sports forum has been overrun by bandwagon Laker fans. The BBLA forum is standing by to be overrun. We also have reports that a division of tards have occupied all Record Label forums through the 2nd page. In strategic terms, The Tards have cut the board in half, the Nuthaday Nuthadollar Records members are about to wet their pants and we've heard even Feben's going to say the war is now unwinnable. In other words, it's a huge shit sandwich, and we're all gonna have to take a bite.”

Long, serious pause.

Deep Thought: “Sir...does this mean that ladycrizzip187's not coming?”

Laughter.

Curbie: (pissed off) “Joker....I want you to get straight into the Sista Side of the Siccness. Sweets will need all the help she can get.”

Deep Thought: “Yes, sir.”

Curbie: “And Joker, you will take off that damn Grammy button. How's it gonna look if you get plungered wearing a Pop Music symbol?”

Poetic Chocolate: “Sir? Permission to go with Joker?”

Curbie: “Permission granted.”

Poetic Chocolate: “Stank you, sir.”

Deep Thought: “Sir, permission NOT to take Jailbait with me?”

Curbie: “You still here? Vanish, Joker, and take Jailbait with you. You're responsible for her. Take the cock blocking internetcop.jpg if you got to.

HELICOPTER, DUSK

Deep Thought sits looking out the door. Poetic Chocolate is frightened and airsick. bg taz loc, a closet web-thug who looks just like Leon Phelps, laughs and yells as he fires his M-60 plunger gun. We see newbies in a thread below getting run and bleeding rectally.

bg taz loc: “Get some! Get some! Get some! Get some! Yeah! Yeah! Get some! Get some!”

After a while bg taz loc stops firing and grins at Deep Thought.

bg taz loc: (shouting to be heard) “Anyone who runs is a tard cuh. Anyone who stands still is a well-disciplined tard cuh. (laughs) You fu’s oughtta start a thread about me sometime loc.”

Deep Thought: “Why should we start thread about you Ladies’ Man?”

bg taz loc: “'Cuzz I'm so fukcing good! That ain't no shit neither. I've done got me one hundred and fifty-seven tards run. And fifty haters, too. Them’re all certified.”

Poetic Chocolate rolls her eyes.

Deep Thought: “Any Sistas or newbies?”

bg taz loc: “Sometimes.”

Deep Thought: “How can you plunger Sistas and newbies?”

Poetic Chocolate holds her fingers in an “L” against her forehead.

bg taz loc: “Easy loc. You just transfer their topic to the Open Forum. (laughs) Ain't war hell?”

The helicopter lands. Deep Thought and Poetic Chocolate jump out. Corpsmen run out of a nearby club carrying a newly de-virginized member on a stretcher.

Deep Thought: (to the pussy whipped nerd) “We want to get in the shit.”

Ice Kapone: “Down the thread, 25/8.”

Deep Thought: “25/8. Outstanding! Thanks, A.C. Green- errrrrr I mean, Ice Kapone.”

Deep Thought and Poetic Chocolate enter a thread called “For Nelly Lovers Only”. Deep and Poetic catch up to a B.A.R.T. forumer, rack him and walk alongside.

Deep Thought: “Excuse me, we're looking for First Platoon, 25/8. I got a bro named Shea Savage there.

CoUzIn Jiggz: “You people in a flame war?”

Deep Thought: “No, sir. We're here for Administrator Mail Announcements.”

CoUzIn Jiggz: “Administrator Mail Announcements?”

Deep Thought: “Yes, sir.”

CoUzIn Jiggz: “I'm in Savage’s platoon. Savage is just down the road in the platoon area.

Deep Thought: “Oh. You mind if we tag along?”

CoUzIn Jiggz: “No problem. Welcome aboard. By the way, my name's CoUzIn Jiggz. My people call me ‘Beefcake’. I looked like Eric Cartman when I was in High School.

Deep Thought: “High School?”

CoUzIn Jiggz: (laughing) “Yeah.”

Deep Thought: “All right!”

CoUzIn Jiggz: “You here to make Savage famous?”

Deep Thought: “Ha! That’ll never happen.”

CoUzIn Jiggz: “Well, if you people came looking for an administrator e-mail, this is your lucky day. We got Condition Red and we're definitely expecting server problems.”

Deep Thought: “Outstanding, sir. We taking care of business?”

CoUzIn Jiggz: “Well, the e*tards are dug in deep into the SSotS. Company 211 is still working this side of the river. Anal thread by anal thread and post by post. The tard’s have definitely got their shit together. But we're still getting some really decent bans here.”

Deep Thought: “We heard some rumors, sir, about the tards posting as a lot of anti-Sista trolls like Nostril King.”

CoUzIn Jiggz: “That's affirmative. I saw some locked threads about half a page down on page 3.”

Deep Thought: “Can you show me where, sir?”

CoUzIn Jiggz: “Here's the page…”

MASS PAGE OF LOCKED THREADS

Deep Thought stands looking down into a large locked thread at a row of edited posts. Moderators and member are reading the thread. A moderator detail leans on their unlock buttons, opening the dead posts, their noses covered against the stench as they the delete them.

Deep Thought: (narration) “The dead posts have been unlocked, then deleted. The members who posted here only know one thing. It is better to be on an unlocked thread than a closed one.”

 

[Deep Thought]

pt.7

Deep Thought approaches a young moderator - |GOD|||ZILLA|.

Deep Thought: “Excuse me. Good morning.”

|GOD|||ZILLA|: “Good morning.”

Deep Thought: “I make it twenty banned nics. Is that the official count?”

|GOD|||ZILLA|: “What outfit are you men with?”

Deep Thought: “Sir, we're reporters from Administrator Mail Announcements.”

|GOD|||ZILLA|: (warms up) “Oh, I see.”

Deep Thought: “I'm Joker and this is Jailbait.”

Poetic Chocolate starts creating .jpg’s of |GOD|||ZILLA|, noting the dangling tongue.

|GOD|||ZILLA|: “I'm ‘ZILLA. I'm from Tokoyo, Japan.”

Deep Thought: “Have you got a ban count, sir?”

|GOD|||ZILLA|: “We think it's twenty.”

Deep Thought: “Do you know how it happened?”

|GOD|||ZILLA|: “Well, it seems the tards came in with a list of offensive threads – “how many women in here have tried anal?”, “WEAKER LINK”, and “I’m through with bitches”. They went around the page and asked anyone that had a problem with them to post. Everybody who posted got spammed. Some they buried with e-mails and pm’s.

The Siccness Server Engineer, Febin, who has been watching Deep Thought, turns from the group, around the page, and strides up. Deep Thought snaps to attention.

Feben: “Moderator! Moderator, what does that interest line in your profile say?”

Deep Thought: “IODOTS UNTIE’, sir!.”

Feben: “Where'd you get it?”

Deep Thought: “I don't remember, sir.”

Feben: “What is that you've got written on your tin foil hat?”

Deep Thought: "Born to Delete," sir!”

Feben: “You write "Born to Delete" on your tinfoil hat and you have 'IODOTS UNTIE' in your profile?. What's that supposed to be, some kind of sick joke?!”

Deep Thought: “No, sir.”

Feben: “You'd better get your head and your ass wired together, or I will take a giant plunger to you!”

Deep Thought: “Yes, sir!.”

Feben: “Now answer my question or you'll be standing tall before the Siccness Trinity.”

Deep Thought: “I think I was trying to suggest something about the duality of moderator and member, sir.”

Feben: “The what?”

Deep Thought: “The duality of moderator and member. The Siccness fam thing, sir!.”

Feben: “Who’s side are you on, son?”

Deep Thought: “Our side, sir!.”

Feben: “Don't you love your Siccness board?”

Deep Thought: “Yes, sir.”

Feben: “Then how about getting with the UBB program? Why don't you jump on the team and come on in for the big plungering?”

Deep Thought: “Yes, sir!”

Feben: “Son, all I've ever asked of my moderators is that they obey my orders as they would the word of Junior. We are here to help the e*tards, because inside every tard there is a member trying to get out. It's a hardball world, son. We've gotta keep our heads until this sexplosion craze blows over.”

Deep Thought: “Aye-aye, sir.”

9-1-SICCNESS FRONT PAGE

We see Shea editing a post. Other moderators are sprawled around. Deep Thought walks up behind Shea.

Deep Thought: “Hey, White Rider.”

SHEA: “Holy shit!”

Deep Thought: “You ol’ fucknut. What's happenin'?”

They hug each other, but in a manly way.

SHEA: “Oh coy, I hoped I'd never see you again, you piece of green shit!”

Deep Thought: (laughs) “What's happening, bruh?”

SHEA: “Oh, I'm just waiting to get back to the GOTM forum”

Deep Thought: “Yeah? Well, why go there? Here or there, samey-same.”

SHEA: “Been getting any?”

Deep Thought: “Only when I GMJO.”

SHEA: “Well, better a tube sock than Sheena, though Sheena’s not bad. Errr.. forget I said that.”

Shea brings Deep Thought to the center of the page.

SHEA: This is my bro Joker from the Island. And this is...

Deep Thought post the cock blocking internetcop.jpg for good measure.

Deep Thought: “Jailbait. “

SHEA: “...Jailbait. They're from Administrator Mail Announcements. They'll make you famous.”

Adlibs of "Real talk!"

SHEA: “We're 25/8: “The Fightin’ Whitey’s”. We're thread-takers and heartbreakers. We shoot 'em full of edits and fill 'em full of plungers.”

Adlibs of "Bwhahahahahahaha!" etc. A big grunt, M-PHIVE, approaches Deep Thought.

M-PHIVE: “R u a pic-wich?”

Deep Thought: “No, I'm a flame war correspondent.”

M-PHIVE: (smiles) “Oh, u scene many idots?”

Deep Thought returns the smile.

Deep Thought: “Well, I've seen better spelling from BAMMER that’s for sure.”

The other moderators laugh.

M-PHIVE: “Yor a reel comeedeean.”

Some more laughs.

Deep Thought: (pause) “Well, they call me Joker.”

Adlibs of "Oooooooooo!" and laughter.

M-PHIVE: (moves closer) “Well, I got a joke for you. I'm gonna tear you a new asshole.”

Adlibs, laughter.

Deep Thought: (John Wayne voice). “Well, Mr.-F-in-English, only after you eat the peanuts and corn out of my shit, eh!”

Loud laughs and shouts.

M-PHIVE: (moves in close) “U tok the tok. But, due u wok the wok?”

Anticipatory adlibs of "Ooooh!" and "Boy, ask you momma!" Pimperoni, a neck grunt, gets up and steps between Deep Thought and M-PHIVE.

Pimperoni: (to Deep Thought) “Now you might not believe it but under fire, M-PHIVE is one of the finest spellers in the world.”

Laughter.

YouNg WiNo: “All he needs is somebody to throw plungers at him the rest of his life.”

Laughter. Pimperoni leads M-PHIVE away.

SHEA: (laughing) “Come on, sit down. Come on new web slut, errr..new Sista.”

Deep Thought and Poetic Chocolate sit down together.

M-PHIVE: “Hey, redneck. Thank God for good lookin’ sisters , huh?”

Pimperoni: “Yeah, whatever you say, Einstein.”

Sergeant Hustle clicks on a thread on page 15 that was locked.

Sergeant Hustle: “Hey...Jailbait! You want to see a good thread? Here, girl...read this.”

Sergeant Hustle opens a thread in the GOTM forum. We see it is a post by an EDJ troll named I'M NOT EDJ called, "THINKINg ABOUT COMINg OUT OF THE CLOSET...". Laughter.

Sergeant Hustle: “This is his party. He's the guest of honor. Today is his coming-out day.”

Adlibs: "Happy Closet Exiting little dick!" etc.

Deep Thought: (narration) “I will never forget this day. The day I logged onto the Siccness and deleted 100 posts. I love the little psycho trolls, man, I really do. These tards are as persistent as Icy Hot Stuntaz. These are great days we're living, bros!' We are jolly green giants, walking the earth with plungers. These people we have run here today are the finest human beings we will ever know. After we rotate back to the world, we're gonna miss not having anyone around that's worth deleting.”

The end

 

[THA RIPPA]

WOW you have too much time on ure hands

 

[Deep Thought]

...and you have hair on yours, BFD.

 

[MiZnKoNsPiQuOz]

LMMFAOOOOOOOOO!!!!YOU ARE CRAZY AS HELL!~209~

 

[Sweet916]

OMFG!!!!!!!! LMAO! You outdid yourself brah!

 

[Juan Million]

Haha, that was one of the greatest stories I've ever read!

 

[BornSin]

LoL!

 

[bg taz loc]

OH COY THA LOCZ PUSH'N A CHOPPA!


AND LOL @(DT) SIR YES SIR, REAL TALK SIR LOL

R.I.P. TIMMAH

 

[Instigator]

Hahaha

That's the longest post I've ever read through in its entirety. Nice work DT.

 

[|GOD|||ZILLA|]

|BWHA|HAHAHA|

That shit right there was better than the movie, minus the audio and video. Plus it only took like 37 or so minutes to read.


:dead:

 

[Villain]

LOL, "Private No Nuts" best part...

This is already a classic thread...

 

[MR. TYPCEE]

WOW you have too much time on ure hands

LOL...ALMOST AZ MUCH TIME AZ THA ENEZ THAT TOOK TIME TO READ THAT SHIT...AND DP...IM WAY TOO COOL TO BE IN YOUR STORY ANYWAY.....$IDEWAYZ

 

[-TiM C-]

^ you were in it.

 

[MR. TYPCEE]

WHA?...WHERE???....$IDEWAYZ