... he feared.
The missiles smashed through the Windows surrounding the Centre of Questionable Merit and lodged themselves into the cubic-meter heatsink above the core.
Meanwhile, Humbert had finally regained control of the disintegrating air-runner. "Lock on torpedos, Mr. Worf," he shouted over his shoulder, "and prepare a full spread, delta pattern."
Our hero furiously looked back and forth hoping to see some kind of weapons controls but could only find a surplus of old Apple hardware in a tattered cardboard box behind his seat. "Uhh... what torpedos?" he stammered.
"Just get ready to throw those PowerBook 5300 batteries at 'em as we pass by!"
Back on the SS Copycat, Michael Dell had passed out in fear of his coming demise. Blood was spouting profusely from his head for he had fallen right into the edge of his Dell DimensionÂ*Desktop when he fainted. Little Steve got up off his knees and ran off in tears to kiss his red and green elf tights goodbye. Fortunately for these two, though, the missiles were just as reliable as the rest of Dell's products; the detenators were never activated!!
The air-runner turned and banked at wildly sharp angles. Going in for the kill, our hero...
[ 01-01-2002: Message edited by: starfleetX ]</p>