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The Brain from Planet Arous Goes to the Beach

August 29, 2025 Leave a comment

The Brain of Planet Arous became aware that many humans enjoyed going to the beach. For observational purposes, he planned a trip.

He purchased a bathing suit and a towel. The towel depicted a gigantic smiling sun. Beneath the sun were the words, “HAPPINESS, LOVE, SAND”. The Brain had some trouble understanding the context. He put on the suit, folded the towel and caught a bus.

An old man in a shabby suit sat beside him. “Look at us,” he said. “Riding a bus to the beach. How pathetic? Most people load up their station wagons and drive themselves. They have coolers packed with sandwiches and beach toys and kayaks. But not us.” The man stared in disgust at the passing scenery. “I should have stayed with Cybil. Her family was loaded. Made millions in the pillow business. Remember the “Our Pillow” commercials?”

“Yes,” the Brain lied.

“That was them. Her crazy father. Got shot in the face a few years back. I’d be living in my own beach house right now. Damn.”

The bus stopped alongside a high series of dunes. For some reason, the driver began screaming at everyone. Vile, deranged insults at each passenger as they meandered by.

The Brain found a spot and stared at the ocean. He had never seen an ocean before. On Arous, there were only grey weedy ponds. No one ever sat beside them. He closed his enormous throbbing eyes and listened to the surf, the seagulls, the sound of ice chests being opened and sandwiches being handled.

A sound to his left woke him. Four young girls were placing a blanket on the sand. They all had enormous breasts. Their bikinis were decidedly revealing. One girl bent over to unfold a beach chair and her breast actually fell out for a moment.

The Brain felt a strange sensation in his head. It was a mechanical tweak. He knew the great Arousian scientists were attempting remote adjustments.

Behind him, there was a food truck. He glanced at it for a moment and an idea formed. He could still feel the tweaking but it was tentative and unsure.

He walked to the stand.

“I would like a hot dog. And extra tin foil please.”

“Extra tin foil?”

“Yes. The whole roll. I will pay one hundred dollars, Lankville.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

The Brain returned to his spot and began wrapping his entire head in foil. The large-breasted girls laughed at the sight but the Brain was incapable of embarrassment. Once his head was wrapped, the tweaking stopped. He smiled slightly.

“You’re weird,” one of the girls said, smiling. “We’re all weird too!” She let out a coquettish laugh.

Later, the Brain discovered what it was like to be smothered on all quadrants by beautiful enormous tits.

Categories: Lankville Action News: YES! Tags: , , ,

Journey of a Christian Soldier Part One

August 29, 2025 1 comment
By Neil Cuppy

I was murdered last week.

Once I lost consciousness, beneath the fluffy white pillow, I felt my soul ascending but then suddenly it became suspended in mid-air for what seemed like several hours. I was still mildly aware of my physical body and that, despite its death, I could feel the senation of something being shoved deep into my colon.

The next thing I knew, I was in a room empty save for an ill-lit counter being manned by a heavy set fellow chewing on a cigar.

“Hi, Mike Howard,” he said, extending his hand. “1982”.

“What’s 1982?” I asked.

He chuckled. You’ll be hearing that from now on, particularly during introductions. That’s the year of my death.”

“Am I in heaven?” I asked.

Mike Howard grew flush and looked down at his feet.

“You’re still in transit. Have a seat over on that bench. The process takes a few weeks. We’ve been really backed up ever since 9/11.”

I sat on the bench. Mike Howard commenced reading a lurid paperback. The phone rang and he whispered a few words into it and hung up.

“I’ve been a good Christian,” I said. “I have worshipped our Lord and…”

“Shhhhhhssssshhhhh,” Mike Howard commanded. “God damn. Never EVER say a word of that shit from this day forward.”

“But I went to church…”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Mike Howard screamed. He looked at the paperback and looked at me. I had seen that look many times in life. I shut up.

After some time, Mike Howard put the lights out. “Another guy might be by tonight,” he said. “Just tell him to sit on the bench. I’ll see to him tomorrow.”

“OK”, I said.

Mike Howard made a phone call.

Phil, baby! Titty bar? Yeah. See you in 15.”

He hung up. He looked at the phone and looked at me. Then he put the phone down.

“Good night, Cuppy.”

“Good night, Mike Howard.”

Categories: Lankville Action News: YES! Tags: , , ,

Tales from Dusky’s Spa

August 29, 2025 Leave a comment
Big night at Dusky’s.

Eric warned me around 4 yesterday afternoon that an “extreme VIP” would be visiting shortly. We vacuumed the very thin rug in the lobby and hung some new racist epithet signage. Eventually, I got up the nerve to ask who was coming. “A great writer and statesman,” Eric replied. “A writer whose only book will likely be remembered alongside Twains, Faulknerian and Tim Clancy as one of the great chronicles of the Lankville Experiment which is no longer an experiment but a fully-realized utopia.” I didn’t know who any of those people were and I only understood about half of what Eric was saying but I trusted his word completely.

Around 6, some strange people began wandering in. They were difficult to describe. A sort of man that I had never really encountered before. They carried themselves with an exaggerated air and swagger, yet they all wore eyeliner and had wispy facial hair. Everything about them seemed somehow ill-conceived. They seemed like biological errors. Yet, they were evidently men of great importance. Accordingly, we presented them with a (discount) series of cheese trays, a sheet cake and a giant tub of iced Dew Kitchens and Doctor Thunder. They consumed the food and drink with great gusto but also seemed to be putting on an air that they recognized what fine combustibles these were (which, of course, they weren’t at all). I had actually bought everything at a gas station.

Eric opened up the spas afterwards and handed out the very thin towels. “Aren’t these fine?” one man noted. “What is the thread count?” “Oh, a thousand,” Eric lied. “Oh, I thought so, indeed.” I half-expected these little faux fey men to remove a monocle from their Bal-Mart sports jackets. I was revolted by the scene, quite frankly and retired to the office for a nap.

Shortly thereafter though, two guys burst into the room and frisked me all over (even yanking down my underwear and shining a flashlight under my balls). “ALL CLEAR,” one shouted. I heard a siren outside and then what appeared to be a live band began playing a Sousas March.

The head limousine pulled to the door and another man with a mutt-like beard and terrible hair alighted from the rear. He too was wearing eyeliner and possibly even some kind of lip-enhancer. I was utterly befuddled. He was an absurd and depressing figure.

“That’s the great writer and statesman? I asked Eric, who was now shirtless and trying to convince a member of this queer entourage to give him a streaming password. “Indeed!” said Eric, staring with reverence at the approaching figure (but not putting a shirt back on, I could not help but notice).

A storm of people met and fawned over this specimen as he shook hands, posed for selfies and accepted a very thin towel from Eric. He was whisked away to Spa F (supposedly our finest) and a party went on there until the early hours.

The lobby was now empty and forlorn and smelled faintly of cheap cologne. A few minutes later, Tony of Italy walked in.

“What was all that fuss?” he asked.

“I don’t really know, Tony of Italy. Some really important man apparently.”

Tony of Italy looked at me for a long time. He seemed slightly amused.

“I envy you, kid.”

“Thanks Tony of Italy.”

“Do you even know what you’s thanking me for?”

“No, Tony of Italy.”

He laughed and handed me a pizza which seemed to emerge from nowhere.

“Abbondanza!”

“I like you, Tony of Italy. I don’t like those guys back there,” I said.

Tony smiled. “Well, kid, they’re kind of an aberration. A temporary blight. Know what any of that means?”

“No, I don’t, Tony of Italy.”

“Eat your pizza, kid.”

I did. It was delicious.

Categories: Lankville Action News: YES! Tags: , ,