<rubbing hands in oh-boy-oh-boy, doggie-tail-waggin' mischievous aplomb>

<'kay ready, we show green across th' board, Friendship-7, initialize mission task checklist at your discretion...>

<Cigarettes, check. Dilithium crystal costume jewelry, check. Earl Grey, slightly lukewarm, check. Signed, coffee-stained, dogear-festooned copy of William Shatner's 'Tekwar XVII: The Decadent Apple-II Hacker Years', check. Eight-inch macrofloppy containing MP3 outtake of Claudia Christian whoop-sneezing right in the middle of one of her lines in which she yet again repulses yet another cagey, Cassanova-ish come-on by thinks-he's-
so-damn-suave-despite-the-fact-that-peeps-'re-always-mistaking
him-for-Bill-Paxton Bruce Boxleitner on the Bab-Five bridge set, downloaded from a warez site by mistake while I was actually trying to grab a pirated copy of Intellivision emulators...um...{oh man where is it! It was just here! Ok, nevermind, I got it, it was in my other trenchcoat}, check.>

<Rrrroger, Friendship-7, yew R now GO for initial revised short story beta module separation and re-entry...in five... four... three-TwoOne-GO!>

Jasper Jazzy Jeff Jenkins-St.-Johns deftly steered his junked-up, jeezuzachkrise jejune jujube-colored jinxed jellybaby-bodied jalopy of a 1974 Chevy Malibu convertible right smack dab into the fluming megafreekin' warm crater of Mount Saint Helens despite the fact that Mount Saint Helens is pretty much nowhere'z *near* any moon, star, planet, celestial body, asteroid, micrometeorite or granule of Oort Cloud flotsam that in any way, shape or form resembles Io, and despite the fact that there's absolutely no way to drive a convertible into a volcano in any event unless it happens to be intentionally dropped *into* one by or from, like, um, a U.S. Air Force C5-A Galaxy cargo plane. Which as far as Jasper Jazzy [sic] knows, has *never* been attempted at the time of this writing---Fin.

<<author waits for standing-thunder, many-kiloton applause over his final, breathtakingly pristine, flawless revision predestined by God Almighty to sweep up tha Huge, Nebil, Phil Key Dickie, Cambull AND L. Ron Scientographer Award For New Exciting Opium-Enriched Screenplay From An Altogether Unknown Speculatist Fixion Noobapotamus, but to his slight dismay soon not only has to faithfully, acrobatically dodge several incoming Babe-Ruth-swung kyusaku sticks, but also a few heaping handsful of rotting fruit projected him-ward in smooth, fast parabolic arcs, to include hard-to-procure vermillion cumquats, kiwifruit and Swaziland pomegranates that aren't even in *season* yet, some of them so gawdawfully, oozingly overripe that it's possible that they might even harbor psychoactive properties, kinda like licking the back of one of those little Day-Glo-hued Brazilian toads>>

But I mentioned the helicopter! So it's plausible! And not that many adjectively adverbials in the sample either! Okay, okay, I *did* violate that gnarly, prickly 13-line rule but----

<--crisp, wiping, fingernails-on-chalkboard sound of record needle being yanked off tha 33 1/3 LP-->

Post Script: "Well boys, maybe we can give him at least an award for the best, overall believable Bad Nietge sample."
"Well, he was a shoo-in, since there weren't any other *contestants* this year."
"Yah. Kinda thinned out the field jus' a *tad*."

[Edited for mispelling. (Man, I misspelled 'A'.)]