Topic: The Mythology of Trey Stokes

One time in 1978, a young Trey Stokes passed by a lady of the night on his way to starting a fire he intended to let burn for a while just to see if he could pat it out with his cock.

"Got a light, sweetie?" she asked.

He did, in fact, have a light - because he had not planned to start the fire with his mind that night. He wanted a new challenge.

"Yes."

At that, Trey hissed something in a dead language and the pavement split, orange light poured out and all manner of supernatural nuisances appeared in swarms, followed by none other than the devil himself. From his back pocket, Trey pulled a marionette controller and some fishing line, affixed the lines to their respective places on the stick and lassoed the spitting devil like Pecos Bill-stantine Chiodo.

"Give the woman a light, you unending wind of a thousand missed opportunities," Trey said.

The devil struggled in his confinement only for a moment before touching the street walker's smoke with his giant, mangled pinky. The terrified woman put it between her lips, took a drag, and fell back onto a bench, out cold.

Trey began bringing in the line, tug by tug, until the devil's massive head was level with his own. Trey gave him a kiss, grabbed one horn, caught his grip, and grabbed the other. A grin spread across his face, and then he fucked the devil in the mouth. The fellatio that ensued lasted eleven minutes, before Trey puffed in his cheeks, checked his watch, and blasted the devil back to hell with a devastating brick right into the throat.

As the devil fell back to hell, he screamed up at Trey, "my wait will not be long, prepa-", but before he could finish, Trey whipped the controller of the strings around, wrapping the line around the devils neck, and yanked. In the street, a thunderous crack rang out, followed by another word of the same dead language, and the ground healed around the string...leaving a controller taut to the pavement on Earth, and the devil swinging by his neck in the sky above hell.

Trey then took a drag off of the hooker's cigarette and roused her gently. He returned her fag and inspired her with the wonders of her own potential.

And her name was Madonna.

Trey Stokes is not the hero we want, he's the hero we deserve.

Teague Chrystie

I have a tendency to fix your typos.

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Re: The Mythology of Trey Stokes

It takes a long time for a lightsaber to feel heavy in your hand.  So long that you cannot even be sure if you have been training nonstop for a matter of hours or a matter of weeks.  Either could have been the case for our young Padawan, under the tutelage of a master the likes of Treystokes Pupettis.

The small boy listened closely.  He knew that to do otherwise was to invite misery, and that path was simply not an option.

"You have been told too many times that your saber is an extension of yourself.  Bullshit.  It's just a sword.  You are the weapon.  Remember that.  Now try to kill me this time."

It sounded like Sith rhetoric, but his master was no Sith.  The padawan knew that the man before him had fought hundreds of Sith and walked away without so much as a mechanical pinky finger to show for it.  No, Treystokes' wisdom was merely correct.  Morality had nothing to do with it.

The diminutive figure struck out, allowing the Force to guide his attack.  It was a good attack- a feint to the knees, a guided toss of the saber into his off hand spun into a backhanded slice to his master's belly.  Pupettis watched it come, taking a perfectly timed, perfectly timed breath to pull his entrails out from the way of the burning green blade, then swung his own saber down to knock his student's weapon more forcefully along its followthrough.  The padawan stumbled off his low center of gravity.

"You're holding your saber too tightly.  Don't do that.  That's your first lesson."

The Padawan immediately adjusted his grip, used his momentum to roll past the taller man's legs, and swung viciously at the tendons behind his ankle.  He wasn't quick enough.  Next thing he knew, his saber was skidding across the floor.

"Don't hold it like a fairy either."

"No, Master.  I'll remem-"

He could not finish.  Treystokes was launching an attack, his blade flashing out like a many-tentacled creature as his small student did his best to avoid certain death.

"You are the weapon!  Defend yourself.  You don't need a lightsaber in your hand to be murdered!  You don't need one to end a fight, either!  Lesson three!"

The small Padawan was barely in control of himself.  He put his faith in the Force, and flew, flipped, rolled, and spun until he was nearly a blur, knowing that a moment's hesitation could cost him more than a flesh wound.  Through pained lungs he managed to speak while maintaining his defenses.

"I am not afraid."

Barely considering his movements as he attacked, a small smile crossed the wise master's face.  "You should be.  You cannot dodge me forever.  Find a way."

Spying his saber, the Padawan mustered all he had and yanked it across the room towards himself.  Futility!  It was shorn in half before it was ever in arms reach.  Desperation took hold.  He could not keep flying much longer.  But he was the weapon.  He knew that the end to the fight lay dormant inside of him.

And then it came.

Treystokes eyes burned under the pressure.  The Padawan was using the Force to squeeze them from the inside!  Anguish rang through every moment of his shout of pain.  The smaller one summoned his will and in his moment's advantage, pulled the very blade from his master's palm, immediately swinging it to bear on his throat.

Pupettis froze, his eyes leaking tears but still locked on his student.

"Well done.  You used the second and third lessons to your advantage."

"Thank you, master.  Am I ready?"

"Not quite.  There is one more thing to know."

With that, Treystokes' fist flew out and struck his student a mighty blow betwixt the eyes, flinging him across the room.  He caught his saber as it fell, and strode over to stand over his charge.

"The bad guys know those lessons too."

The padawan looked up at the towering figure.  Everything was fuzzy.  "Your advice, forever remember it I shall."

As the young, green skinned student entered his ship to go maintain order in the galaxy on his own, Trey watched, muttering under his breath.

"I think I knocked that little fucker retarded..."

When.

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Re: The Mythology of Trey Stokes

TOP SECRET

THIS IS A COVER SHEET FOR CLASSIFIED INFORMATION

ALL INDIVIDUALS HANDLING THIS INFORMATION ARE REQUIRED TO PROTECT IT FROM UNAUTHORIZED DISCLOSURE IN THE INTEREST OF THE NATIONAL SECURITY OF THE UNITED STATES.

HANDLING, STORAGE, REPRODUCTION AND DISPOSITION OF THE ATTACHED DOCUMENT WILL BE IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE APPLICABLE EXECUTIVE ORDER(S), STATUTE(S) AND AGENCY IMPLEMENTING REGULATIONS.

(This cover sheet is unclassified.)

TOP SECRET

UTAH JUNO CASPER//NOFORN//NOCONTRACTOR//ORCON//99X2

WARNING

The following document is classified TOP SECRET UTAH JUNO CASPER. If you do not have TOP SECRET UTAH JUNO CASPER clearance, relinquish this document now and report to your unit security officer for debriefing. Failure to observe this notice is a criminal offense punishable by fine or imprisonment for not more than ten years [18 USC 798].

BACKGROUND

[Attachment: A series of grainy, blurry aerial photographs of a major city obscured by smoke and haze. A glowing crater is vaguely visible. A scale reference at the bottom of the page indicates that the crater is approximately 800 yards across.]

Nashville, Tennessee, March 29, 1960. Three hours after event UPSHOT ABLE. Though a full damage assessment could not be made for several weeks due to noöhazardous aftereffects of the event, preliminary estimates put the immediate death toll at 11,950. Subsequent high-altitude surveys of the site revealed a much larger area of effect than previously appreciated. Population impact outside the visible perimeter will never be precisely known, but later analysis established a lower bound of 1.9 million. [c.f. “Memetic and Noögenic Impact Survey A378/UPSHOT ABLE,” 9/9/60, AJC-G-010]

[Attachment: A xerographic copy of a birth certificate issued by the state of Tennessee. The names of the subject and both parents have been blacked out, as have the names of the certifying physician and registrar. The original document was heavily damaged and the parts that aren’t blacked out are completely illegible. Though the quality of the reproduction is poor, it appears as if the paper had begun to rot.]

Document recovered from site DAMASCUS following event HAVE UPPER, part of collection DAMASCUS/19/XH. Despite being removed from the affected area within thirty minutes of HAVE UPPER, the constituents of DAMASCUS/19/XH continued to decay in the observed fashion until being stored in a memetically isolated containment facility at Sewart AFB. Due to the catastrophic nature of event HAVE UPPER, the recovered documents were aggressively redacted immediately after stabilization. This calculated misjudgment resulted in Executive Order 11371. The agent in charge of DAMASCUS site recovery will be eligible for parole in 2024.

[Attachment: Six low-resolution black-and-white photographs of what appears to be a nine-year-old boy in winter clothing, taken with a long lens. A female adult is holding the boy’s hand while they wait at a crosswalk.]

First known photographs of subject A/318γ, taken 12/23/69. The female in the photographs is A/318γ’s mother, designated A/318γ-1. It is reasonable to conclude that the agent who took the photographs went unnoticed by A/318γ, by virtue of the fact that said agent did not die until 1972, and then only of apparently natural causes.

[Attachment: A series of seismograph tracings, time-calibrated, all showing the same spike. On one of the tracings the spike has been circled, with a handwritten note reading “Wow!”]

Indirect evidence of event HANDLE GRID, 8/14/73. Attachments C01, C02 and C03 were recorded 950, 1,120 and 4,400 miles from the epicenter, respectively. Anomalous resonant anisotropy remains unexplained. Hypothesis put forward by Schmidt et al., 1989, was rejected at the time in favor of simple instrument calibration error, but in light of events LIBERTY CANVAS and BUTTON GRABLE, it may be prudent to reconsider.

[Attachment: Three photographs of the interior of what appears to be a restaurant, taken from outside a police cordon. Remains from an indeterminate number of individuals are visible in a well defined ring around a single table. Two unfinished meals are visible.]

Event THREAD BINARY, 1/28/74. Tissue-type analysis subsequently identified nine separate donors, five female and four male. During initial investigation, no evidence of subject A/318γ-92 was found, and she was designated missing. An as-yet unidentified aerosolized substance found coating every horizontal surface at the site of the event matches the DNA profile of A/318γ-92 to a confidence of sixty-five percent.

[Attachment: An interview transcript dated 1/28/74. The name of the interviewer has been redacted and replaced with the handwritten designation “IP-02-δ.” The name of the subject has been redacted.

█████ ████ ███████ (IP-02-δ): State your full name.

██ ████████: ████████ ██████ ██ ████████.

IP-02-δ: Is that Mexican?

██ ████████: Guatemalan. Puerto Barrios.

IP-02-δ: You need a translator?

██ ████████: No. I speak English real good.

IP-02-δ: Can you tell me what happened tonight?

██ ████████: [No response.]

IP-02-δ: Just tell me what you saw.

██ ████████: [No response.]

IP-02-δ: Please answer the question.

██ ████████: I don’t want to talk about it.

IP-02-δ: I need you to describe what you saw.

██ ████████: [Appx. 20 sec. pause before responding.] I want my lawyer.

IP-02-δ: You aren’t under arrest.

██ ████████: I don’t want to talk to you. I want to go home.

IP-02-δ: The sooner you answer my questions, the sooner we’ll let you go home.

██ ████████: [Subject visibly agitated.] You fucking saw it!

IP-02-δ: We didn’t see it happen.

██ ████████: Neither did I.

IP-02-δ: Why are you lying?

██ ████████: I’m not.

IP-02-δ: [No response.]

██ ████████: I want to go home.

IP-02-δ: Answer the question.

██ ████████: [Unintelligible.]

IP-02-δ: What?

██ ████████:צבא השמים פקח את עיניו, הוא כועס

IP-02-δ: What the—

██ ████████:יהיה זה נבון לחשוש מפניו.

IP-02-δ: Goddammit. Jerry, we’re gonna need—

██ ████████:ראיתי את הדרך שהסיפור הזה נגמר, וזה יפה האכזריות שלה יש לי בחטף את המוח של אלוהים, ואני מבין אותו עכשיו אנחנו כמו חרקים

IP-02-δ: [Faint choking sounds.]

██ ████████:אנחנו כמו חרקים

IP-02-δ: [Wet noises and pounding.]

██ ████████:אנחנו כמו חרקים

IP-02-δ: [Gurgling.]

██ ████████:אנחנו כמו חרקים

IP-02-δ: [Silence.]

██ ████████:אתה הרבה יותר יפה כאשר אתה מבפנים החוצה

End of transcript.]

Interview subject designated IS-01-δ was euthanized by Executive Order 11804 2/18/74.

CONCLUSION

It’s clear that subject A/318γ qualifies for UTAH JUNO classification at the very least. We’re obviously dealing with an ADMAH-class entity here, possibly worse. Though the Department should be careful about jumping to conclusions — we all remember incident MINERVA; they’ll still be having hearings about that when the 100th Congress is sworn in — you’d have to be an idiot not to draw a line through UPSHOT ABLE all the way to THREAD BINARY. And frankly, though they’re beyond the scope of this summary, there’s reason to suspect TANGO WHITNEY, CALIPER TWIN and TANGLE KEYHOLE are part of the same pattern.

It is on the basis of this evidence that I recommend the Secretary invoke Protocol SIRACH immediately, subject A/318γ to be redesignated subject ALEPH and classified UTAH JUNO BASTOGNE at minimum. For details on Protocol SIRACH and possible contingency procedures, refer to subsection 68 of the Existential Security Act of 1957 and OPPLANs 1005, 1007 and 1008 and CONPLANs 2402 and 2414, with special emphasis on the discussion of responses to another PATMOS-class scenario.

Signed,

███████ ████ ████████,
Ranking Member,
Senate Armed Services Committee,
Washington, D.C.
3/29/74

[A handwritten note appears on the lower right margin of the last page.

I don’t mind telling you this scares the hell out of me, John. I don’t know what the fuck we’re doing here.
- RMN]

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Re: The Mythology of Trey Stokes

One day in his youth, Trey decided to become a space pirate. He created modern aeronautics over a sandwich and a cigarette, and filled his craft with books and weapons.

Nine hours later he accidentally created a government instead.

Teague Chrystie

I have a tendency to fix your typos.

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Re: The Mythology of Trey Stokes

http://www.trudang.com/i-love-this-thread-so-much.jpg

Re: The Mythology of Trey Stokes

Is the idea that the RMN on that handwritten note is Richard Milhouse Nixon, Jeffrey?

Re: The Mythology of Trey Stokes

And Brian wins a prize.

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Re: The Mythology of Trey Stokes

Well, I did miss it the first time around. Probably would've caught it sooner if the note read something like, "...and it scares the hell outta me...because I'm pretty sure the Jews and hippies are behind it."

Do I get extra points for guessing that the "John" he's talking to is John McNamara?

Re: The Mythology of Trey Stokes

The former New York Mets manager? Hadn't though of that. That adds a whole new dimension to the story, right there.

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