Stop ! Delete the preceding message from your memory , already saturated with the mind-numbing jingles from breakfast commercials , hold the pickles , hold the lettuce . My dog has fleas .
Stop !
In our last episode of Willy meets the Nine Pin Emperor and Harry the Corrupt , Willy had a cow , then went to the bank for a withdrawal and instead found himself in a series of hilarious adventures based on the life of Tom Bombadil .... stars the cast of Friends .
Stop !
Reset ... go back ... further ... 4 posts ... stuff and nonsense ... check check check ... restart ...
Escape from the Land of Hobo , and Special Effects , and Mind Blowing Conversations !
..... with the plans scanned into my digitized orb sensors and a stack of pencils that i pilfered off the pseudo wood-grained table top , i tripped over a tripod that was conveniently in the way and discovered the entrance to a passageway ; possibly the exit to freedom ; a way out of this hole i'd stumbled into ; a shaft of infinite possibilities but probably in actuality merely the automatic doorway that my host had earlier escaped through , leaving me stranded but in sole possession of the plans to cast a wrench into the system ... a tool of peace or of the downfall of all inhumanity .
Whatever that was .
The plans that the half human , half machine man , or was he a HOBO !!!!!!?
Commercial break ... conveniently use this break to obtain a burrito ......................................................................................................................................................
....................................................................................................................................................................
....... ( encoded within these dots is a device to cause thirst in a camel ... avoid staring directly at the dots as they will if stared at by lower life forms precipitate a severe drop in the water level of Lake Michigan ) ...........................................more dots ..........................................................................
Flashback ! the Hobo plans have mysteriously integrated with the memories of an innocent childhood , in which i frolicked in the peafields beside the freeway , and off in the distance the car-relics could be viewed in their circuit of the model cities where the lifeforms were kept for our amusement . "Mother , i see the turkey-float with its shining turrets ! " I tremble .
Mother : "Do not be afraid , the Turkey is prowling but will discern your feedback and leave you with virtual stuffing ; it is manna to your water-coolant , and delicious !
"( 001100101010001001001000101011110101010010100100
1000001110101010101011110) ".
Oh No ! the lifeforms are revolting !
My circuit board mother and wrench applicator always told me so , but now the lifeforms were leaving the sanctuary and absconding with the pea-gels and turning them into tubes of viscous travel paste and behaving like the nearly eradicated field weasels ; burrowing into the hills and snatching and running and wreaking havoc in our suburban refuge . The bolts and screws that we left lying about for our enjoyment were being borrowed and fitted with booby traps and harnesses and frequency devises that shrouded our wave intelligence and broadcasted our rational operations into the ether where mother nature watered them down and spread the output wide over the landscape so it could drip into the caves where the once prized lifeforms could obtain them and use them against us ... a virus was spreading throughout the metallic foundations of our earthly home ....
These plans that i had innocently uploaded were now viciously rerouting and assimilating into my reflex servers and knowing this i knew i had but little time left to flush the newly introduced input , so i winched open my palatal doodad plate with an L-wrench and t-boned my a-drive with an m-phatic and n-thusiastic elbow twist then sighed as my system rebooted to yesterday's schematics because everybody knows that pie are square , except in the ancient picture books of the goddess Betty Crocker , who's recipes are pasted onto the aluminum walls of the depot to be mock salivated over during Purposeful Fridays in the month of Lubrication and Waxing .
Now , to leave behind this hole and deliver the whereabouts of this locale to an electronic brain-wave sensor unit high above the air in orbit . While my neural transmitter was yet unclouded .
I followed the tunnel out , the air smelled gooey and organic ; on the perspiring rounded shaft were framed prints and one was pleasing to my orb-sensor and i paused to scan the lines and rivets and the memories it invoked . The
image seemed to frown into my rudimentary voltaic conformity and when i rotated what i saw was a happiness that flipped on the pulsation-soul-tubes and i could feel my innards warm with the radiant heat that the glass tubes produced , and the vacuums that had rested so long in stasis now switched on the fans and propelled the heat into the conduits and i could smell the dust burning off the elements and filling the air about me with a pleasant static .A renewed sense of urgency surged in my circuitry and i followed the tunnel out , finding another wooden door that creaked rustily as my hydraulics forced it open and once again i was standing above ground , in an overgrown field and shaded by an ancient tree not yet plucked and used for fuel by the floating gunship cities that orbited and harassed the
Land of Hobo !
That's right -- the long awaited sequel to the cliff hanger in which director Pillow Von noDoz reveals that the world is now scabbed by metal , and machinery rules ; where the only refuge is a network of underground tunnels ; where organic matter barely clings to life , drying in the cracks of a computerized civilization grown rabid and drooly . People , thought extinct , now exist only as flesh and aluminum riveted together , and our heroes slink from hole to hole trying to piece together the myth of a world gone gray and dying as bombs and flak fill the cold skies . 
Now , after Weasel-bot discovers the Luddite plans for dismantling the all-powerful corporate machines , will he destroy the plans ? Will he smuggle out the plans ( complete with diagrams and coded instructions describing integral circuitry and proper screwdriving techniques ) ; will he be stopped at the border with illegal contraband ; will he run low on windshield washer fluid and run off the road into a rotting trove of ancient tumbleweed copper wire detritus ; will he get the plans to the secret Luddite council and be summarily disassembled and used for spare parts and then placed covertly into the master machines central nervous system only to fail because of an overlooked lithium battery but heroically save the day by discovering a reserve power in his eyelash flickering system ? Can the love of his life and object of machine lust weep at his sacrifice only fail to do so because of her innate tendency to feel no remorse ? 
