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THE 2000AD MESSAGE BOARD 2012 ADVENT CALENDAR!

Started by Pete Wells, 01 December, 2012, 12:03:40 AM

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blackmocco

#45
It has to be me to disrupt the flow. Can't link to the image so hopefully the mods can help me out. December 21st. Happy Xmas!

http://blackmocco.blogspot.com/2012/12/blog-post.html


"...and it was here in this blighted place, he learned to live again."

www.BLACKMOCCO.com
www.BLACKMOCCO.blogspot.com

Bolt-01

Thanks to the talented chaps Lee Robson and Bryan Coyle I can proudly present Judge Dredd- The right to arm bears!

These are the chaps responsible for the upcoming 'Babble' GN from Com.X and are both Zarjaz regulars.

Enjoy

WhitBloke

WARNING: NASTY VIOLENCE!




Polar Bears!  I luv 'em.  Couldn't eat a whole one, though...  And because it's Christmas, here's a cracker joke (as opposed to a cracking joke...)

Q. What kind of creds do Polar Bears use?
A. Ice lolly!
So this is der place then, Johnny?


shaolin_monkey



The Zizzers Xmas (loosely adapted from The Junky's Xmas by William Burroughs)


Fresh out of the cubes for jaywalking, my hunger for Zizz had hit an all time high. Why the stinkin' Jays locked me up for something so gruddam petty when the whole of the Meg was going to stomm, is anyone's guess. Anyway, there I was stood outside an Iso-Block in the freezing snow, on Christmas Eve, with a Two-Ton Tony style hunger making my bones ache.

I could see fires lit in derelict and abandoned blocks, Cits like me trying to make the most of it, with whatever they had left. I guess you just don't appreciate the little things, like Weather Control, until they're gone. I staggered down 5thand Kerpeskie, wracking my brains. Where could I score my Zizz, and more importantly, how the drokk was I going to pay for it?

Have you ever done Zizz? It doesn't catch you straight away. The first time you try a little dab you feel a lift, like things are going to go right for you. You feel mildly disorientated, but you function fine. Then you got in for another dab, slightly more. Then another. For a while, each hit is bigger and bigger, and everyone talks about the Big Zizz, the final massive burst of euphoria before you plateau. Then you have to take the damn stuff just to prevent the withdrawal symptoms, of which devouring body parts of your friends ain't unusual. Mind you, keep taking the stomm, and you may end up doing that anyway.

So there I was, abandoned to the elements by the Jays, trying to keep my mind off raw meat, and wondering what to do next. At the foot of Kerouac Plaza I found a whole bunch of snow covered Mopads, all in a row, lined up like drokkin' Xmas presents. 'There's gotta be somethin' I can fence in one of those.' I thought. I walked along testing the magnolocks on each, hoping the cold had fritzed a circuit or two, and after about the tenth I heard a crunch. 'About time my luck changed!' I exclaimed, and looked for a way to prize the slide-door.

'What the drokk you doing there, pal-io?!?' I heard someone shout. Quick as a non-slo mo user, I used my arms to wipe the snow off the windscreen. 'Jus' being neighbourly, digging this fine Mopad outa the crud!' I cried cheerfully, looking around to see who had spotted me. Some huge Cit was eyeing me balefully from an underpass, both hands in his pockets. One was bulging – 'Las-knife?' I thought.

'Get the hell away from my Mopad before I call the Judges, gruddamit!' he shouted belligerently. Despite feeling the urge to chomp down on this suckers face, I didn't want a gut full of las-knife, or more time in the cubes. 'No need to be like that, citizen!' I shouted.'Can't a guy do another guy a favour no more, or is everyone still drokked up by the Chaos Bug?!?'

'Just get the hell away pal!' he shouted, moving through the piles of white drift towards me. 'Ok, ok, I'm going, I'm going!' I moved off as quickly as my aching, trembling legs would carry me. Was this withdrawal, or the cold finally making itself felt over the hunger?

I headed away, towards Ginsberg Block, praying my luck would change. You could say it did. Not two pedways further down I spied a plasteel case someone had flung over the side of a Zoomrail. Half buried in the flurry, it glinted at me, promising treasure inside. Who ditched this? Was it a drug deal gone wrong? Were there creds or mountains of Zizz in there? My eyes bulged and I salivated at the thought. Like a lurker slinking through the streets, I walked up close to a wall, and looked nervously around for other Cits, spy-in-the-sky, or random Jays out for an evening patrol. Nothing. I edged up to the case, slid it quietly under my thermocloak, and used my kneepad to stop it sliding into sight, while I found somewhere to investigate it.

An overhang created by a partially collapsed city block was the perfect place. With trembling hands I flipped the catches, and it swung quietly open. Caught by surprise, I felt my face go white with shock, temporarily forgetting my hunger and growing Zizz rage. Body parts – arms, legs, organs - and semi-congealed blood slid out onto the pristine whiteness with a splatter.

'What the drokk! This ain't no organ legger  or arms dealer op!' I thought. Nah, these were not choice cuts with a med-laser – this was the work of some kind of futsie. Tearing someone limb from limb and stuffing them in a case; no wonder they ditched it first opportunity they got. The gore swam in front of my eyes and I thought I was gonna puke or pass out. When it passed and I came to I found my teeth wrenching cold dead flesh from a femur, me lost in some crazy fug of satisfaction.

I did puke then. I must have been chowing down for some time, 'cos I swear I didn't eat that much munce in the cubes. My guts heaved until all the human remains were out, and I realised I needed to get a hit of Zizz, and fast. Real fast, before I did this to a live Citizen. I emptied the case into a corner of the overhang, using snow to clean it as best I could. 'Dirty Debra' I thought.'She'll give me top creds for a nice case like this.' I stumbled towards Ginsberg again, with the hope of creds for a wrap, and a warm Computel to enjoy the high, or at least the lack of ache and bloodlust.

Dirty Debra was not pleased to see me. 'Watcha doing here, scuzzbucket? You got a rap sheet long as Mean's robot arm! I don't want no stinkin' Jays sniffin' around!'

'C'mon Debs, do me a favour, I just got out and I'm sore. Need some creds and a place to score. What'n you do for me?' I whined.

'Watchoo got that I want? And where the hell you gonna score on Xmas Eve?  The Judges ran the dealers off the pedway, those that could stand the cold anyways.'

'I was thinking Harry the Sniff could help me out? Check out this case some spugs ditched. Top grade, worth a lot – can you give me somethin' for it?' I pleaded.

Debs grabbed it, opened it, wiping a finger around the inside of it, coming up bloody. 'What the drokk is this, scuzzbucket? Whatchoo trying to play on me here, huh? Jays just gotta do one look at this case and I'm for a ten stretch. This ain't munceberry drokkin' jam!'

'Debs, I know you can clean it and move it fast. Jays won't come near you gal.'

'Five creds. Take it or leave it. And you're lucky I ain't deductin more for cleaning costs. N' before you even thinka takin' that to Harry the Sniff, don't bother man – he's Wally Squad. My spies saw him reportin' in – now no drokker goes near him, and he's got a mark on his forehead bigger'n crosshairs on a gruddam Manta.'

Smarting from Debs deal, and the thought of no hit for a long time to come, I stumbled back into the snow. It seemed red, red everywhere. Things were going bad, and I felt a rage like never before. Hitting Ginsberg, I stumbled into the atrium and headed for the med-bay. Them Med-Judges were usually as righteous as the gruddam street Judges, but I knew this one was crooked. I'd heard he dealt outta the Justice Department supplies every now and then. He was my best hope for something to at least calm the rage of withdrawal.

He was alone, and I tapped on the reinforced glass until he saw me. 'What can I do for you Citizen?' he asked, the door sliding open. 'Please Judge' I said, drooping one side of my face, 'I stumbled into a rad-pit and got the sickness real bad. I need something for it. Can you do anything?'

'Holy Grud, that isn't rad sickness' he said, eyeing my symptoms expertly. He knew I was seconds away from tearing his throat out with my teeth. Quickly he slammed the door, but could see I wasn't leaving any time soon. I saw him through the clear plasteen going through his boxes of pills, vials and injectors. He opened the door a crack and threw something out.

'This'll ease your symptoms for a while and maybe give you that high you're looking for. Now get out of here, and don't let me see your face again, or you'll be doing cube time.' He stood on the other side of the door waiting for me to go, one finger poised over a button that would connect him straight to the Sector House. I realised this was the best I was gonna get, so made like a Simp and red-nosed it outta there.

Blasted Judges! That one hadn't been that likely to hit the button, for fear of their own SJS taking an interest in his sidelines, but there was no way I was risking cube time, Xmas or not. Next up was getting me out of the way of ordinary Cits, into a Computel where I could take the meds and ride out the withdrawal.

Looking at the vial in my hand, I did a 'Whoo-Hee!' of exclamation. That freaked out Med-Judge had maybe been kinder than he realised. I had a sure-fire one hit wonder of Morphinax, one of the most powerful opiates in the Justice Department supply cabinet. This poison not only kills the pain, but gives you a high that has you ready to come back fighting! Many a Judge has been kept on the street sporting gunshot wounds after taking these mothers. I heard on the muncevine even the big JD had a hit of this stuff in a ruck in the Hall of Justice itself!

The hope of a high cleared the pounding red veins from my throbbing eyes enough for me to stagger to the Computel in Ginsberg Block's derelict wing. 'Good evening Citizen!' it said cheerfully as I staggered through the door. 'What can I do for you this –zzz- cold night?'

'Need a r-r-room, man...' I slurred, trying to resist the urge to smash the stupid smiling face on the screen in front of me.

'A room with en suite is 20 creds a night, or a room with shared facilities is –zzzz- 10 creds, Citizen!'

'I only got 5 creds!' I wailed.

'You're in luck Citizen!' it electronically warbled. 'We have –zzz- a special on rooms in the basement requiring some maintenance. Only 5 creds a night!'

I soon found out what was wrong with the rooms. The doors wouldn't lock, and the only warmth came from the electropads in the hallway flooring. Still, it was warmer than out in the drokkin' snow, and I had nothing to steal anyways, so I made do. I sat on the bed, rolled up my arm, and was just about to twist and stick the top of the vial, when I heard a groaning sound from next door. I didn't want to come out of my withdrawal with some futsie's las-knife in my ribs, so reigned in my white hot rage, and checked it out.

Next door was wide open, and some Juve lay on the floor, bleeding like a stuck mutie. He was clutching his leg, and writhed around in agony. Blood had soaked through his clothes all the way to his shoulderpads. 'What the drokk happened to you, son?' I cried.

'Rumble with the Burroughs Boys in the undersked.' He whimpered. 'They got me good man, bleedin' out here.'

His eyes were wide with fear. He knew he was going to Grud, and pretty drokkin' soon.

'The pain man, the pain, can you do something for me? Anythin' man, c'mon.'

I hate them gangs that prowl the pedways looking for a ruck or a Cit to do over, and he was clearly a Juve that enjoyed them pastimes. Some would say he kinda had it coming. But I'm not made of stone, not on Xmas Eve, not even with a Zizz rage about to collapse my brain in on itself. There was only one thing I could do. Twisting the top of the Morphinax I told the frightened Juve 'Don't worry buddy, I got something here for ya.' I knew my last hope was gonna end up seeing this Juve into Grud's hands, but what was I supposed to do? I may be a Zizzer, but I'm not a drokkin' monster.

I rammed the pointy end hard into the Juves neck, and he sighed. 'Thanks man, you're a real pal.' He looked me in the eye and I saw the gratitude. He rolled over, sighed, the relief obvious in his face. Then his lights went out.

The rage hit me hard, then and there. This poor spug, dead on Xmas Eve, me cold and hurting in a run-down Computel, hundreds of thousands of ordinary Cits dying of hypothermia in what's left of their run down Blocks, and millions dead, still being collected by folk from the Mutie Townships. What the stomm man?!? My head felt like it was gonna explode. I pounded the walls and felt my knuckles smash. I battered my head against the door, seeing a darker red leaving wet patches, and spray filling the air. I pulled great hunks of hair outta my head, and tried to gouge my eyes out of my sockets.

Then it happened. Everything went white. I felt my rage evaporate like the mist left behind by a gruddam Dark Judge. I felt lifted, higher than a spy-in-the-sky. I laughed, long and hard. I'd come out the other side, like getting some kinda immaculate hit. I'd beaten the withdrawal! I fell on the bed, lying next to the poor dead Juve. I laughed, I howled, I felt more than human, even despite my mashed hands and battered face. Against all odds, I was alive; I had beaten the Zizz rage.

'Thank you Grud!' I hollered at the top of my poor aching lungs. 'Thank You Judges! Thank, you twisted goddam Debra! Thank you, you wonderful freezin' Cits! Grud bless you Mega City One!'

I fell back on the bed, waiting, feeling my heartbeat slow to normal, savouring every last moment of my immaculate high. I felt wasted, worn out; my body had some healing to do. I was drifting off into a grateful slumber. And then I had a final laugh as I heard someone across the corridor shout:

'Shut your gruddam trap, you drokkin' spugger! We're tryin' to enjoy our munce pies here!'

Bhuna

Sorry for not getting this up sooner.

As Dirk hasn't been able to work his Advent magic this year, here's a little Christmas message from Dirk, m'self, Buck Tucker and Cruz (from Vanguard) yea I know it's not 2000ad related, but what the hell!

twitter.com/Bhuna1967
twitter.com/pigdogpress

Lady Festina

Merry Christmas, from Uncle Fester and Lady Festina !!



With grateful appreciation to Mr Wagner and Mr Ranson  :D


flip-r mk2

It's all right, that's in every contract.
That's what they call a sanity clause.
You can't fool me, there ain't no sanity clause.

http://flip-r.deviantart.com/

http://forflipssake.blogspot.com

http://weeklythemedartblog.blogspot.com/


Time flies like an arrow, Fruit flies like a banana

COMMANDO FORCES


Dash Decent

Hi there, fellow forum fanatics.  It's Dash-o-rama time, so buckle in 'cos they're just as plentiful and lacking in talent as last year!

Merry Christmas to you all!

- By Appointment -
Hero to Michael Carroll

"... rank amateurism and bad jokes." - JohnW.

Dash Decent

- By Appointment -
Hero to Michael Carroll

"... rank amateurism and bad jokes." - JohnW.

Dash Decent

- By Appointment -
Hero to Michael Carroll

"... rank amateurism and bad jokes." - JohnW.

Dash Decent

- By Appointment -
Hero to Michael Carroll

"... rank amateurism and bad jokes." - JohnW.

Dash Decent

- By Appointment -
Hero to Michael Carroll

"... rank amateurism and bad jokes." - JohnW.