Posts Tagged ‘Nick Del Rio’

Ordeal of a Cosmonaut

September 29, 2015 Leave a comment

Nick Del Rio Space2

Nick Del Rio, Space Asshole Correspondent

Nick Del Rio

Runny shit from a lying fuckchop.

I notice immediately upon approaching the derelict quonset hut that the turf suddenly disappears and is replaced by a pale green substance resembling sand. When I step upon this strange substance however, a tremendous noise like a loud squeak issues forth and I pause, confused. It is then that I hear a desperate rustling inside the hut and the night seems to grow suddenly darker and ominous.

I feel something shoved into my back, with such force, in fact, that it is detectable through my spaces suit. Something is speaking a language incomprehensible to me and then I am thrown into the sand to the sound of that cursed high-pitched squeaking. It is then that I have my first look at The Being.

It is a grotesque blue-hued creature, likely eight feet tall and it is holding some sort of laser awkwardly in its hairy paw. Buckets of drool spurt out of its toothless, gaping hole of a mouth.

And then I am dragged to my feet by Dr. Ernwhitts himself.

“Are you the Frolix from Planet 21?” he asks.

I do not instantly respond. Instead, I stare at this shell of a man, filthy and nearly naked in a series of disgusting rags that are beyond description. He has put up his hand to keep The Being back and he stares at my various identifying suit patches but there seems to be no recognition, no acknowledgement of this very same costume that he once donned himself, with such honor.

“Are you the Frolix from Planet 21?” he asks again.

“Don’t you remember me, Dr. Ernwhitts?” It is all I can think to offer.

He continues staring at me and then suddenly away, at nothing. Then he speaks to The Being in its own savage language.

The Being advances.

“You should run,” he says. “He will eat your head right off.”

I stare one more time into the vapid eyes. And then I run towards the woods.

Ordeal of a Cosmonaut

September 22, 2015 1 comment

Nick Del Rio Space2

By Nick Del Rio, Space Asshole

By Nick Del Rio, Space Asshole

A stupid ongoing saga by an insufferable space cock.

I find the Repelletron Skywalk in the pod, buried beneath a mound of empty packages of space ice cream. Night has fallen on the orange planet and the light is a bland greenish color. Curiously, there are no stars but far above I spot a whirling red planet unknown to me. The friction kicks off a series of distant sparks.

I set up the Repelletron Skywalk by the Satellite Econo-Beam. Immediately, two beams bolt outward, creating a walkway above the savannah, disappearing over the horizon. This walkway will lead me directly to the mysterious camp of my fallen robot. I thank him silently for his efforts.

The journey takes hours. Normally, the Repelletron Skywalk will shove the traveler along at speeds exceeding 30MPH, but tonight, it is weak and limpid. I conclude that it must have something to do with different air streams here or perhaps a surfeit of gravity. I notice that I am bloated.

The Skywalk begins to descend. The topography has changed now– the savannah has given way to a series of flat rocks, surrounded by swamps. The flora here is large and threatening and moves with an eerie cadence. I take a space pill designed for gas and bloating by the inimitable Dr. Phoebus-Grotts. Afflicted with permanent bloat while touring Jupiter, the good doctor sought to help others. He died shortly after its release to the space market; beheaded with an adz by persons unknown.

The pill instantly provides relief. And then, the skywalk ends. I have come upon a seemingly abandoned camp– a dilapidated temporary quonset hut, dim and unpainted in the distance.

I know instantly that Dr. Ernwhitts is inside.

Perhaps you’re asking yourself, how? How did I know? (editor’s note: we’re not, asshole).

Dr. Ernwhitts

Dr. Ernwhitts

I have to take you back to 1997. It was then that I was a fresh-faced young student at the prestigious Cust-Heaves Aeronautical Center, completing my doctoral thesis. Dr. Ernwhitts had come for just one semester; indeed, he was too great a man to be in the employ of one institution for long and it was my fortuitous fortune of mentoring under him.

I will never forget the first time I made my way to his office. It was on the fourth floor of the Danius Zubrus Building, located off a distant corridor beyond some abandoned classrooms. The office itself was spare– only a metal desk and file cabinet and folding chair. There was a pennant tacked to the wall by means of the only decoration and Dr. Ernwhitts’ wife’s picture had been printed directly onto the felt with her name– SLOBOTKA fanning out towards the tip in an attractive cursive font.

There being nowhere to stand, I leaned against the wall. Dr. Ernwhitts looked over the top of his eyeglasses at me for what seemed like twenty minutes. Indeed, the light outside his small window had changed.

“I just stared at you for twenty minutes without speaking. Do you realize that?” he finally said. His voice was soft and low but seemed concussively jarring after the interminable silence.

“You will have such periods of silence in the outer limits. Do you realize that?”
“Then, let’s begin. Sit down and I’ll show you some pamphlets of different models of quonset huts”.

A chair was produced from somewhere and that was how we spent the next two hours. And it was from that strange encounter that I took away the great man’s penchant for a particular type of quonset hut. And it was precisely that type (a rare type indeed) that I found in the clearing upon my orange planet.

I headed towards it.

Getting to Know Nick Del Rio, “Astronaut”

September 16, 2015 Leave a comment
By Brock Belvedere

By Brock Belvedere

Brock Belvedere had a chance to sit down with alleged “astronaut” Nick Del Rio via an apparent “robotic space transmission”.

BB: I’d like to begin this interview by telling you how vastly disappointed we are in you.

NDR: I don’t know if I agree. I think a lot of people are very excited by the evidence we have uncovered…

BB: You’re a veritable pariah in Lankville and you’re wasting everyone’s time.

NDR: Let’s move on.

Nick Del Rio, Space Asshole Correspondent

Nick Del Rio, Space Asshole Correspondent

BB: Tell me about this stupid planet you discovered.

NDR: Well, I have been a little disappointed with some technological issues…

BB: Not as disappointed as we are with you.

NDR: I thought we were moving on.

BB: Stupid asshole up in space. (Mockingly): I’m just a big dumb asshole up in space.

NDR: Do you want to talk about this or not?

BB: Look at me! I’m just a huge horse’s ass parading around in space.

NDR: We’re done here.

(Transmission was aborted).

Ordeal of a Cosmonaut

September 15, 2015 Leave a comment
Nick Del Rio, Space Asshole Correspondent

By Nick Del Rio, Space Asshole Correspondent

An ongoing series by a lying asshole piece of shit.

Slumber is troubled in deep space. I have a long dream in which I am standing before a gigantic vending machine. There are some processed tarts inside– two for a quarter and I have never before experienced such desire. I put quarter after quarter into the slot but nothing happens. Then a blimp crashes into a nearby building.

When I awake, I find that the pod is far off course. Momentarily, I do not even recognize my orange planet but my instruments indicate that I am well within its orbit. My instruments tell me something else– a test pod with some big robots that I sent out last night has come back and has indicated that there is water on my orange planet.

I am astounded by this discovery. I try once more to radio earth but the transmission is now permanently dead. I consult several space manuals for protocol. “When approaching a strange, unknown planet, you must be careful of THE BEINGS”, I read. “THE BEINGS are recognized as the cause of the disappearance of Dr. Ernwhitts, our greatest cosmonaut.” Unfazed, I make the decision. I will attempt a landing.

It is well-known that Dr. Ernwhitts attempted to launch a colony somewhere in the outer orbits. I fantasize that this could indeed be the planet where his lost ship touched down. Perhaps I would find him living among the grasses and THE BEINGS, taming them, civilizing them– I would be able to pick his brilliant mind. As I am lost in thought, the gravity-jenny suddenly sputters and stops working completely and I am hit in the face by a giant meatball mouth hoagie.

I restore the gravity-jenny and its faithful hum returns. Using the ropelletron-vision screen, I find a suitable spot for touchdown. I decide on a sandy butte overlooking a series of green puddles. I immediately memorize the topography, shifting the ropelletron-vision screen to show different angles. Suddenly, my picture disappears and a crudely-made card reading BUCK UP, SPACE ASSHOLE! flashes across the screen. I suppose wryly that transmission with earth has not totally failed.

The landing is rough and I miss my preferred spot– alighting instead on a savannah-like terrain characterized by long, flowing grasses, sparse vegetation and a strange field of intermittent purple flowers. The pneumatic hiss that follows the opening of the pod door is also a release for me, after nearly five weeks trapped inside.

I am aware of an overwhelming silence. Not even the long, flowing grasses make a sound, though they move briskly in the wind. I am in a sort of valley, surrounded by high hills and then suddenly I spot a donkey and a lion fighting soundlessly before me, a mere twenty feet away. My God, it’s just like Lankville, I think. I watch the great battle– the lion eventually proves the victor and decapitates the donkey by utilizing a strange device that looks like a concave pizza tray. He drags the carcass off over the hills.

Photo of the satellite receiver lost two nights ago.


After a short walk, I come to water. All of the singular characteristics of earth are evident here– hills, waters, grass, donkeys, lions. After a drink, I send out a triphibian robot. Then, resting by the water, I set up my satellite econo-beam with regenerating power source. Then, I wait.

The robot comes back after two hours reconnaissance– indeed, I had fallen asleep and he was forced to push gently on my buttocks. It was dimmer now; there was a strange green glow in the sky.

The robot discharges two printed images. The first is a lion, the same lion, resting among the grasses. The second is the mutilated donkey carcass.

“Anything else?”

Some calculations are made and the robot attempts to spit out another image. This time, however, the paper becomes jammed and the robot begins to wobble in an insensate manner as the obstruction becomes worse. I attempt to intervene but find that the robot is far too hot to touch– his steel casing melts away in moments. I am left with only a corner of the intended image.

I kick the robot remains in a hole and sit down to examine the photo.

It appears to be a cleared area beneath a thin canopy of tree-like entities. I can see faintly what appears to be a crude cook-stove fashioned out of dirt and clay. I see what may be the arm of an unfashionable shirt.

I start.

And I know then that I have found the long, lost Dr. Ernwhitts.

This fucking crap will continue in future installments.

Ordeal of a Cosmonaut

September 14, 2015 Leave a comment
Nick Del Rio, Space Asshole Correspondent

“Astronaut” Nick Del Rio

The Lankville Daily News is annoyed beyond measure to present a new series by noted “astronaut” Nick Del Rio.

My fascination with space began at a young age. Dad would drop me off at the library. He’d say, “You’ll be spending nine hours here while I go to the offtrack betting place that we don’t tell Mom about. Use it wisely.” I would head right to the science section and devour the great tales of the pioneering astronauts– all of them, Armstrong, Aldrinson, Colbys, Ricer, Hossdoggs, Rance Mullinks, I just couldn’t get enough. To this day, I return to their stories for inspiration.

I have a picture of Rance Mulliniks and Dr. Ernwhitts (who never returned from space) cotside as I orbit a new, unknown orange planet. I am nearly out of reach of man’s primitive signals which is a mixed blessing as someone has given out my cell phone number and I keep getting messages telling me what a liar I am. But I am not deterred. For, out of the portal is my planet.

I don’t yet know what it will be called. I reflect upon this. An email comes in announcing that Dick La Hoyt has been punched in the face again. I am saddened by this news from earth despite the fact that Dick constantly leaves rude messages on my Lankbook page (along with tens of thousands of others). I suppose I should not be so hard on him.

The darkness here is ethereal. It is so delicately refined. The stars are delicate– like a lamb or one of those complicated Easter treats. I am in awe.

As I move closer to the dark side of this strange planet, my measurements confirm that I have only a few minutes longer before transmission with earth is completely aborted. I radio Control. For a long time, I hear only faint murmurings, then something mysterious comes in clearer. It sounds almost like the ambient noise of a party– the ebb and flow of conversation, the sound of cake being passed out, the squeak of balloons skirting the ceiling as if blown by a sudden, fervent wind. Finally, Lowenstein confirms my report.

“Go ahead, Nick,” he says, “Go ahead to the distant side of the planet.” He seems almost as if he is attempting to stifle laughter and the room behind him has grown suddenly quiet.

“Confirm functions,” I state, clearly.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, functions are great,” he says. I begin to wonder what is so funny.

“Confirm fuel intake.”

“Yep. Just great. Keep going there, Nick,” he says. I hear an eruption of laughter from a woman somewhere.

“Confirm atmospheric pressure.”

There is a sudden loud jolt and a series of quiet whisperings.

“Yep. Really, just perfect. Keep going, Nick. Keep going. No need to call back.” Transmission is abruptly ended.

I reflect upon this strange exchange. The light grows dim as I bear witness to a magnificent eclipse. I look back to the earth for the last time.

There is no going back.

This Week in Lankville

December 9, 2014 Leave a comment
Kimball J. Cranney

Kimball J. Cranney


A tiny, unmanned spacecraft has been launched vaguely in the direction of the last known whereabouts of lost Lankville business magnate and so-called “astronaut” Nick Del Rio.

The L.S.S. Shuttle for Cock took off from Cape Lankville sometime late last night.

“The shuttle is extremely small,” noted NASPA press secretary Gherry Ivy. “It’s windowless and about the size of a coffin and is equipped with no supplies. We don’t really expect that it will make it to wherever the hell that insufferable asshole ended up.”

“He’s probably dead,” said Ivy, an ebullient smile suddenly appearing across his otherwise solemn face. “Probably got burned up by a comet or crushed between two large asteroids, like a pair of giant space tits rumbling together to create cosmic chaos.”

Ivy was removed from the podium by NASPA executives shortly thereafter.


Frozen small pizza magnate Inner Hammer has murdered another pizza delivery man, sources are now reporting. The executive has now killed two such persons in the past week.

Gee-Temple:  "I took some of the wings out of the bassinet."

Gee-Temple: “I took some of the wings out of the bassinet.”

“I must have some demons I’m not aware of,” said Inner Hammer, who laughed and joked about the incident and tossed around a spongy basketball as the mutilated carcass was removed from his Lankville Heights mansion. “Ah, it’s all in good fun.”

The victim was reported as Talbot Berries, 19, of Outer Lankville Ridge.

“I think that, from a psychological standpoint, it’s all about anxiety,” said the executive, who ordered two pizzas, a bassinet of wings and a large ceramic jug of soda from Suddenly Mama Pizza!, a popular carry-out. “I experience real anxiety because I want the foodstuffs so badly and it comes out as violence. It’s a shame,” added Inner Hammer, who then suddenly dunked the spongy basketball and pranced around, exhibiting extreme bravado.

Mr. Berries, who had been with Suddenly Mama Pizza! for two weeks, was knifed in the neck twelve times.”Everything went well,” said Detective Gee-Temple, who spent ten minutes at the scene. “I took some of the wings out of the bassinet.”


Ric Royer: Hero

Ric Royer: “I am now a master magician…”

Lankville business magnate Ric Royer announced today that he has adopted the “magical name” Frater Perdurabo and that he has been advancing quickly through the ranks of what he called “The Golden Dawn”.

“It was something I was keeping a secret for awhile but I’d like to come clean to Lankville that I have been creating a splinter group of the Golden Dawn that will focus on the impending magical shit holocaust that will occur by 2020. I am now
a master magician and before long will be a full-fledged Prophet of a New Aeon”.

Royer explained that his new magical name means literally “I Will Endure” and that he began his studies under the auspices of the Yoga Premananda, whom he met in 2004 while buying a rubber raincoat. “When he came up to me the raincoat burst spontaneously into flames”, Royer added.

(The interview had to be ended when the uneven legs of Royer’s table caused an extra-large soda to spill in his lap. No one helped Royer and there was an interminable period of deep confusion and darkness).

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