a while ago this is an excerpt from chapter 36 of a story I was working on. after reading it again i see i have to pay more attention to my thee's and thou's.

This is an excerpt from what I'm currently writing


Professor Morris hated teaching, what he hated even more were the students. Every night just before last call he would enter the Lincoln Pub, a seedy place the college students loved. He looked for a table in the centre of the room, but tonight it was crowded. "You Martin Wood, get out of that chair!" Morris demanded.

"Professor Morris?" Martin gulped. He recognized the fierce hatred in the professors glare and felt an impending doom. Leaving he snatched up his mug spilling half the beer on the table.

Morris plopped his fat ass down and glared at Martin's friends, "Well Masters Upton and Welling, don't just sit there get a damn rag!" Both students accepting the out, left.

"Waitress!" Morris demanded, "clean this table and bring me my stout." The waitress, a student working nights, quickly removed the empties and wiped off the table. Morris used his big beefy hand to pinch her ass hard enough to leave a bruise.

"You fucking bastard!" she turned on him, "every god damn night."

Morris smiled and held up his hand forming the letter C to imply a failing grade, "Get my beer."

"Last Call!," the bartender shouted.

The waitress delivered the beer from the other side of the table, took the money and left. As Morris sipped his beer he chuckled, knowing he'd become inivisible. Not see through me invisible but in the minds of these students as invisible as any other old fart. He took a tube from the inside pocket of his sport jacket, chewing on a wad of paper he searched for a victim. Wonders everlasting there sat Kelly Schmidt, the brat had dropped out rather than face expulsion. Morris especially hated him.

Kelly a few tables over, wasn't ready to quit, "Let's get some off sales and go over to my place."

"Sounds fine by me," Eddie hitched his pants up over his developing beer belly.

"Ugh another night at Kelly's I think I'll go with Sam and them," Yvonne scowled, fussing at her blonde hair. Shifting her bosoms.

Billy stood up slowly watching the gorgeous Yvonne leave. You could see his heart break. He'd been drooling over her all night. Yvonne had played him all night.

"Look at the fool," Janice turned to Nancy, nodding at Billy.

"They couldn't come any dumber," Nancy agreed, she flicked her hair and shifted her own ample bosoms.

"Ow!" Kelly exclaimed, pulling a disgusting large wet wad of paper from the side of his neck. "Who's the Asshole?" Kelly demanded of the tables next to theirs. Everyone was leaving there was no way to tell who did it.

"What's the matter?" Nancy asked.

"Somebody just shot me with a fucking spitball," Kelly complained.

"Forget it," Tom suggested.

"Who's car we takin?" Janice asked, as they tumbled out into the parking lot.

"Leave em here we'll walk," Kelly answered, rubbing his neck, "nobodies in shape to drive."

"Yeah it's warm out, nice for a walk," Nancy swept her arms wide and twirled in the parking lot.

They weren't a block away when Yvonne shouted, "Hey wait."

"Oh Christ," Tom cursed, as she ran to catch up, "Frank musta told you to fuck off."

"Bite me," Yvonne bit back.

"Why don't you wander off in front of a truck or something," Janice suggested.

"I felt bad about leaving Billy like that," Yvonne grabbed Billy's arm.

"It's all right," Billy put his arm around and held her protectively.

"I'm gonna puke," Janice said pointing a finger at

her mouth, moch gagging.

They were stopped by a cop, who checked to make sure they weren't drinking the beers they were carrying. The cop wasn't laying heavies on them advising them to keep the noise down and watch out for trouble. For his unstorm trooper like attitude they bid him a good night as he left. They continued their migration to Kelly's, whie Stan hit on Nancy and Janice seemed to be pairing off with Tom. Yvonne went about putting Billy in place which was as far as she could get from him.

"Don't you got tests tomorrow?" Kelly asked Eddie.

"It's not till noon, no morning classes." Eddie replied.

"Hey thish is Tweedle Metal Supplies, old man Teedle'sh place ," Billy slurred, he'd finally had enough of Yvonne. He was staring up at the top of a high wooden fence as if to see over it. "I worked for him last summer. He's got a big fuckin catapuller."

"A what?" Kelly asked.

"A cat-a-pult, thing throws rocksh," Billy answered as if he was were talking to some one who was drunk. "Used to shoot things into Shylvan lake."

"Yeah right," Eddie snided.

"No it'sh true he used to worship this guy name Gerry or Gary Bull. Guy designed hic powered cannons for the military, even shot a satellite into orbit. People say he was ash, assashinated by Ishraeli Moshad, making some gun for Shaddam. He'sh dead now."

"You figure. You just said the Mossad shot him," Kelly pointed out.

"Tweedle'sh dead not the other guy," Billy corrected.

"Who'd the Mossad kill then?" Nancy asked.

"Bull," Eddie answered.

"No it'sh true Tweedle'sh died lasht fall and he'sh got this big catapult out there in the yard. Dam thing worksh too. Ya wanta see it?" Billy asked excitedly.

"I dunno," Kelly mused, "I'm still on probation I'm doin jail time if I get picked up for a B&E."

"No it'sh okay I got keys to the place and old lady Tweedle knowsh me. Asksh me to run errands for her sometimesh," Billy fished out a set of keys. They walked around the corner and came to a wooden gate with a pad lock. After fumbling with the lock Billy held the gate open for them, "it'sh over there."

Kelly shrugged his shoulders and followed Billy into the yard, the others followed him in. They passed racks of iron bars and sheet metal before they came upon an object covered with sheets of canvas. Billy began pulling one of the sheets off, revealing gleaming metal beneath.

"Look at that," Stan rushed over to help uncover what was turning out to be a behemoth.

"Hey how about a brewski," Tom suggested ripping open the case he was carrying.

For Kelly it was too much to resist, disolving any legal concerns he harbored and eagerly helped with the unveiling. It sat on a platform capable of rotating in any direction. Massive hydraulics were used to position the apparatus into firing position. Enormous springs engaged the catapult. A diesel engine powered the, the monster. Kelly jumped up into what appeared to be the firing control platform, to study the gauges and dials.

"This fucker has a range of two hundred kilometres," Kelly pointed out the dials to the group below. "We could bomb the shit out of Calgary."

"Why not Edmonton?" Eddie asked, "my parents live there." He found a spot on one of the racks and sat down, the others joined him. The night was warm the stars were bright and the beer plentiful.

"Oh Billy why didn't you tell me about this," Yvonne siddled up to Billy again. "You gonna let me shoot it?"

"Didn't think it was anything shpecial," Billy swooned. "You really wanta?"

"What a dupe," Janice muttered.

"Hey Billy, this thing works right. I suppose you know how?" Kelly asked.

"Shure, Tweedle youshed let me fire it off for him. Come on Yvonne you can shit in the gunnersh sheat."

As Billy explained the procedure to Yvonne, the others envisioned targets they'd like to see obliterated. In all to little time they were getting hammered and began to shound a lot like Billy.

"What dosh the thing sshoot?" Kelly might as well have been asking dead air. Billy, had found a piece of dirt and passed out.

"Ushed water filled oil drumsh," Billy groaned after Yvonne rousted him from his beer induced slumber.

"What, huh, why?" the answer didn't seem to make sense to Kelly, "Yvonne wake him up again."

"You wake him up he'sh pisshed".

"Hey wake up Billy," Kelly staggered over and jerked Billy's shirt, "Why'd you ushe oil drums?"

"Le'me shleep."

"Firsht tell me why oil drums."

"Kay. Kay, shtaaandard weight uff shatelite," then he was out again.

"Hey I got a great ideer, let's fire one of these puppiesh off," Kelly proposed, studying the nearby drums.

"Great idea dude," Stan agreed, "can you work the controlsh."

"Sure no shweat."

Tom ran over to the barrels urging Eddie to come with him, "Letsh get one of these onto the catapult, in that holder thingee." He tipped one over. "They're empty."

"You guy's will have to fill em," Yvonne sat where she was without any intention of lifting a finger.

"Don't busht a sweat dearie," Janice glowered.

"Bite me."

"I saw a hose back by the offish," Nancy ran to get it.

Tom and Eddie rolled one of the barrels over and lifted set it into the catapults cradle. After prying off the cap they waited for Nancy with the hose. Hanging on to the end of it and she ran it back to them. Until she stopped to swing both feet suddenly up in front of her.

"What are you doin layin there in the dirt?" Eddie asked her as she lay on the ground.

Nancy got up dusting her rear off, "Fuckin tard, the hosh is to damn short."

"Get the barrel back down and we'll fill it up firsht," Stan suggested.

"It'll be too heavy," Kelly shook his head.

"Maybe we could all lift it," Stan volunteered.

So they brought it back down filled it and being to heavy, wondered what to do next.

"They mushta used something to load the catapult. Lets ask Billy," Janice suggested and they wandered back to Billy's dirt patch.

"No he'sh out of it," Yvonne whacked Billy in the face a couple of times. She dropped him on the ground then picked him up and whacked him again to make sure he wasn't pretending.

"There's a forklift over there. It'sh got some kinda hoist on it they probably used to load the Catapult," Tom ambled over to the immobile machine.

"Can you get it going? Does it need keysh?" Kelly asked.

"Don't matter," he replied, "the propane tanksh gone and I don't see another one around."

"Shit," they all cursed.

"Maybe we can put another barrel up there and syphon the water into it," Eddie proffered.

"Syphoning only worksh down not up," Stan pointed out.

"What else can we fire off," Kelly wondered out loud rubbing the welt on his neck. "Hey letsh make a huge humongous spitball. We can use that wheel barrow over there."

"What'll we use for paper?" Janice asked.

"That office must have paper in it, we'll use whatever we can find," Kelly replied perking up at this insight.

The office wasn't locked, but any kind of paper that might have been there was gone. In a back room they did find stacks of unused boxes straight from the factory still strapped together in flattened bundles.

A tub they found was filled with water, they set about shredding the boxes and added them to the water. They took their shoes off and began taking turns in the tub mashing the mache with their feet. By the time they finished the last of the beer they'd mashed all the boxes. They put the brown gooey mixture in the wheel barrel and hauled it over to the catapult.

"This ain't no good," Kelly complained, "it'sh too thin it'll just splatter."

"Wrap it in one of those canvash sheets and tie it with a rope," Janice helped.

They laid out a sheet of canvas in the catapults cradle and began dumping the paper mache into it. One of the ropes used to tie down the canvas over the catapult they used to hold their spitball together.

"It'sh not big enough," Kelly had been hoping for something a tad larger.

The morning was beginning to dawn, with the sky lighting considerably when they tore open the spitball. Anything they could lay their hands on, dirt wood shards, Yvonne's shoes, they threw into it.

Yvonne screamed, she was holding the front of her dress. Billy was standing in front of her looking dumbfounded. "You tore my dress!" she screamed at him. Then she drew back and decked Billy square on the jaw. Billy crumpled. With a surprising show of strength she picked Billy up, threw him over her shoulder marched up to the catapult and threw Billy into the spitball.

"You can't put him in there," Eddie cautioned.

"You need a pilot for this thing," she watched Billy sink into the spitball.

"Okay," Eddie shrugged his shoulders.

They retied the spit ball together, making sure Billy could breath. His face stuck out of the top of the spitball. Except for the swelling shiner he looked happy.

"You think this is a good idea?" Tom asked. They were all beginning the eventual relapse into sobriety.

"No, we better aim for the lake, and undo the knots on the rope," Kelly responded.

"Good plan, the splash down will wake him up, he can swim to shore," Nancy reasoned.

"Oh damn, we should have checked the diesel out first," Kelly scowled, "Tom you and Stan see if you can fire the thing up."

The diesel coughed, wheezed and settled into a steady rhythm. "Okay get up here," Kelly waved them up and they all crowded onto the firing platform. "First I gotta engage the springs," the diesel roared as gears compressed the catapults springs until they locked.

"How do you aim it?" Janice asked.

"Billy said there were some maps here we look for the coordinates and set the dials to them."

"Okay I got em here," Eddie spread the maps out, "the lakes already been marked out. Bearing 288, elevation 73 degrees."

Kelly set the dials and pressed the button Billy told him to. Nothing happened, then the whole machine swung around throwing them out of the control platform and onto the ground. That was why seat belts had been instaled on the platforms seats. The machine sat there looking for all the world like a nightmarish weapon of mass destruction. Poised to launch its human cargo onto an unsuspecting planet.

"Damn we better shut the thing down and get Billy outta there," Kelly reconsidered.

"Like fuckin hell," Yvonne swore and started climbing up to the control platform. "Son of a bitch ripped my dress."

"Stop her!" they shouted to each other.

They rushed Yvonne on the platform but she kept slipping out their grasp. The sun brested the horizon, abeam of light lit up the red launch button, urging her on. With a final supreme effort Yvonne stretched and pounded down on the button. In one violent jerk the catapult launched the spitball into the bright morning light of the sun.

"Leave her lets make tracks," Kelly advised.



The rushing cold air didn't bother who Billy felt like a bug in a cocoon, warm and toasty. Except something was jabbing into his side. It felt like a the heel of a shoe. He couldn't move either, like he was all bound up. He pried his eyes open, the clouds rushing past him were incredibly low. The last thing he remembered was tripping and reaching out. Yeah right, he reached out for Yvonne and ripped her dress, she hit him. He musta passed out after that. He tried to look around to see if the others were still around. He managed to free his head from the muck. He seemed to be stuck in a large clump of paper mache. It reminded him of a third grade art project he did. Snatches of conversation from the night came back to him, the catapult, spitballs and the sound of the diesel. Yes indeedee, he was flying along in the spitball, the rope unravelling and trailing about behind. Reality set in.

"Oh my God," Billy started then screamed, "oh my GOD IN HEAVENNNNNNNN!!!!!!!"

Below on the ground Simon Peterson was heading for the barn with his son to do the morning milking. A rushing sound caused him to look to the sky. There he saw what appeared to be a brown ball attached to an enormously long hair. More to the point it was the biggest damn clingon he'd ever want to see.

"GOD IN HEAVEN," it shouted down to Simon.

"Get down on your knees boy, and pray," Simon commanded his son and being a deeply devote man dropped to his. Was this manifestation for his recent sins. "For we have seen a vision of God."

Not concerned about the effect of his flight on the pious, Billy fought to unstick himself from the spitball. Bits and pieces broke off aiding him in his fight for freedom. The rope however snared around his waist and the canvas. He'd reached the apex of the trajectory and was beginning to fall. The aerodynamic drag of the canvas slowed him down. A good thing because the spitball had been lighter than a water filled steel drum and he would have over shot the lake. It also helped him survive the splashdown in the middle of the lake, beside the park wardens boat.