Com-Central.net

Why is it, when you go rookie hunting nowadays, everyone derides you for it and calls you a bully. Don't these people understand there's a tradition to be upheld???

Thanks TC, I still remember trawling your website on a Sunday afternoon and having a few yucks.

- Shadow_Bshwackr

Why is it? That PGBearcat's letters are only slightly longer and more complicated than a thesis on nuclear fission?

LOL I remember those! hehehe

PG_Raptor aka XcalibeR

I can't beleive that you guys are re-running this guys dribble! This is moderately funny crap at best. TC is a short, fat, bald, leisure suit wearing, Aqua Velva abusing, nose picking, butt scratching, glue sniffing, scab picking, pimple popping, rookie kilting loser!

I have taken the liberty of informing Tracer_Bullit of TC's wearabouts. If we are all lucky, the fat slob will be apprehended by the zone authorities.

But hey, that "Why is it' story is kinda funny. And I guess being shot down all those times wasn't all that bad. But I draw the line at him selling me a defective Rookie Kilter and charging me a outlandishly obscene price! And he took my wallet too! The punk also wanted to barrow my lawnmower!! Sheeeeesh!!


RD-

huh? lol

TC's Corner #4

May I help you please?

About a week ago, a guy came into my Rookie Kilter Madhouse Emplorium, shook my hand, and identified himself as PG Captain Vlad. I asked him if I could help him and he said I could.

"I'm lookin’ for a nice Rookie Kilter," he said. "One that can do at least 450 miles per hour."
"Well, that’s a mighty tall order there, partner," I replied. "But I think I can oblige."
"I know. I've been lookin’ at those fine, foreign Kilters, man oh man they are beauties!" Captain Vlad said.
Now I am a Professional Rookie Kilter Supply Salesman, and when I hear someone talk about them FOREIGN Kilters, well, all I see is dollar bills spiraling down the toilet.
"Heck, you don’t want no Foreign Kilter Mr. Vlad, be an American, and buy a quality American Kilter! Don't support them FOREIGNERS, buy from the United States, home of the free, and the president-less." I urged
.
"Yes, I suppose you are right. But what kind of Kilter can you get me that’s made in the land of the free? Mine has got to go over 450 miles per hour. I don’t care about the cost!" persisted Captain Vlad.
"Mr. Vlad, I can build you a Kilter that will do over Six-Hundred Miles Per Hour." I told him. His eyes got glassy as he asked, "Six Hundred? Man oh man, where do I sign?" he said eagerly.

And thus I sold my latest Rookie Kilter, the approximate price being about 3 times the fiscal income of Kenya. I also sold Mr. Vlad a quality pair of Italian Rookie Kilting Shoes for $399. Right away I set to work, laboring over a Rookie Kilter frame, and sending a rush order for sixteen .50-calibre machine guns!
I soon finished, and the resulting work was a true piece of art. I called up Mr. Vlad and told him to come out and get his beauty. About an hour later he walked into my back door to the Kilter Factory. I pointed out the Kilter to him.

"Man oh man, look at that work of art!" he said as he slowly stepped up to the beautiful Kilter.
"Why don’t you strap yourself in and check out the cockpit?" I asked.
Mr. Vlad climbed up into the Kilter, and sat himself into the cockpit.
"That there Kilter has got it all!" I exclaimed, "It’s got Duel Superchargers, Duel Wasps, Duel Landing gear, Duel Everything!" I clamored.
"Man oh Man." said Mr. Vlad.
"And check out the airspeed indicator," I said. "It starts at 0, and curls all the way up to Six Hundred MPH, and there’s still more room in the word WOW."
"MAN OH MAN!" exclaimed Mr. Vlad.
"Now look at the PIPES man, the PIPES! Eighteen, nineteen cubic diameter inches triple “Sonometer� PIPES! Look at the pipes coming out of the cowling, the engine, the wings!" I said excitedly.
"Oh my oh." said Mr. Vlad.
"Then there’s the plaque which says 'Made Especially for PG Capt Vlad by TCs Kilter Emplorium,' and it is guaranteed to be faster than anything Fozzy owns. And there’s a Fire Extinguisher, so if you ever come across a plane that’s on fire, you can get out and put out the fire, and the pilot of the next plane will say 'Thank you Very Much.' "

Then TC, who was dressed in black, handed Vlad the keys, and said:
"Why don’t you start her up?"
"Yea, gimme the keys!" cried out Mr. Vlad, quickly snatching them from my hand.

So he sat in the cockpit, he put his hand on the stick, and Mr. Vlad began whispering to himself "Over Six Hundred ... over six hundred ... over six hundred ... oh boy!"
And then TC said, "Why don’t you start her up?"

"Oh, yea, I was going to do that," replied Vlad, and he hit the ignition switch. The engine started coughing, white smoke, spinning prop, fire, and all those PIPES! You could just see the three thousand horses fighting desperately to be let out of the 24 cylinders! The plane roared to life, like a violent volcano, and the sound was utterly deafening. Vlad sat in the cockpit, both hands with white knuckles, clutching the control stick. His Italian Kilting Shoes turned into sneakers. He just started it up, his Rookie Kilter had not even moved, and it was Kilting Rookies!

"Why don’t you take it for a spin?" I calmly said to Mr. Vlad.
"Didn’t I?" cried Mr. Vlad. Then Vlad’s left hand inched for the throttle, he gripped the knob, and with a slight movement, managed to shove the throttle lever up to 2%. The Kilter roared into life, and rocketed through the Emplorium's hangar door, and out onto the tarmac, spewing flames and smoke, shooting out of the pipes, like a dragon after a Mexican fiesta.
He didn’t even get to the runway before taking off, and before he even took his next breath, the Kilter was going ballistic. It was killing Rookies all over the airport, and he hadn’t even pulled the trigger!
And somehow, Captain Vlad managed to shut off the engine, despite the fact three thousand horses objected greatly. He glided the smoking Kilter down onto the runway, and it stopped just in front of my Emplorium. Vlad climbed out of the cockpit, stepping over the remains of former Rookies, and came up to me, stuck out his shaking hand and said:

"You take these keys ... and this Kilter ... and you give it ... to Major Slayer."
--TC

LOL!

LOL....that's an oldie but a goodie

TC's Corner #8! "Trim Tab Technology"

"Trim Tab Technology"


1900 hours Zulu Time.
Place: Outside Ickie Inline's Mod Shop.
Mission: Uncover Ickie's new top-secret Trim Tab Technology.

I was no stranger to trim tab technology. PG_Capt_Hawk has possessed a minor variation of that technology for almost a year. But this was different, Ickie had developed, or bought, or stolen, a new Trim Tab Technology, which would turn your average stock and unmodified Hawker Hurricane into a killing machine. Worst of all, with this Trim Tab Technology, a pilot with knowledge of it could fly in a restricted room and have a great and unfair advantage. Such an advantage was unfair to the other pilots and clearly was outright cheating. I wanted that Trim Tab Technology!!!

Carefully I made my way into the slums of the Zone. There were some desperate people out there. I passed up Snake_Ear's Mod Shop, and also Crow_Foot's, and suddenly the imposing bulk of the Ickie's Mod Shop compound loomed into view. I crept into the shadows alongside a short brick wall and made my way up to the front gate. A solitary rebel Zone Cop guarded it.

1912 hours Zulu Time.
Place: Front gate of Ickie Inline's compound.
Mission: Gain entrance to the Mod Shop block.

With Trim Tab Technology a pilot would become twice as maneuverable as the other players in the same aircraft. This meant I could Kilt Rookies in restricted games if I gained access to the secrets of Trim Tab Technology. I had tried to get PG_Capt_Hawk to tell me the secret, but he wouldn't talk so I had to bump him off. But I had heard that Ickie had written the Trim Tab Technology down on one copy of paper, and put in his laser-protected vault inside his compound. First there was the gate in front of me to get past. Once inside, there was one hundred feet of open ground, combed by searchlights, machine guns, razor wire, and Claymore mines.

I stepped on a twig as I was tiptoeing up to the gate. There I stood, hoping I would be unseen in my black leisure suit, but the moonlight o my Italian Rookie Kilting shoes made a very distinguishable reflection. The defected Zone Cop turned and emptied a clip from his machine gun into the shadows beside me. But he was no match for me. I pulled off my right sock, rolled it into a ball, and tossed it right next to him. In a blast of green and yellow fumes, the guard fell down into a heap. Grabbing the steaming sock for possible later use, I dashed through the gate. Prowling by stealth was obviously more time consuming than the direct approach.

1931 hours Zulu Time.
Place: Barren ground inside Ickie Inline's compound.
Mission: Cross the open field.

Ickie Inline first got into modding over two years ago. Since then, he has turned out dozens of Ickie Inline Mods, each one with over 100 guns, of which one bullet would blow up a P-47, or the Starship Enterprise for that matter. Combined with Trim Tab Technology, an Inline Mod would be absolutely unstoppable.

Carefully I crawled over the barren field, evading the enticing antennae of the Claymore mines and dodging the stabbing glare of the searchlights. Haha, I thought to myself as I crossed the field, you’d have to try harder than that to stop me, Ickie! At last I made it over the field and up to the door to the concrete "Block A" which housed the vault with the precious Trim Tab Technology inside. There were no guards at the door. Obviously, Ickie had assumed that no one could get across the open field.

2012 hours Zulu Time.
Place: Inside Block A of Ickie Inline's compound.
Mission: Find the vault.

Block A was equipped with motion sensors. If motion were detected, three starved and half-crazed lions, or Rookies, depending on the current price of lions, would be released to rip to shreds any trespasser. Obviously, I was not going to be able to cross the open floor without being detected. So I walked briskly out into the open and allowed the motion sensors to find me.

Alarms screamed and then a trio of Sudanese tigers suddenly appeared from the corner behind me. Just before they were upon me, I sent three slugs of concentrated fumes from my shoe into the first tiger, which stopped in its tracks and collapsed. I dispatched the other two with a quick toss of the sock. Then I ran up to the door of the vault.

2019 hours Aborigine Time.
Place: At the vault of Ickie Inline's compound.
Mission: Open the vault.

The vault was a circular room, built of six-foot thick steel and braced by concrete pillars. There was one door, which was equipped with nine rotator locks and three peg locks. A code had to be entered into a number pad to release the peg locks and only a key which Ickie Inline himself wore around his neck would release the rotator locks. If the wrong number or a false key were tried, the vault and its precious contents would be immersed in burning napalm. Unfortunately for Ickie, he had forgotten to lock the vault and the door stood wide open.

2020 hours Albuquerque Time.
Place: Inside the vault of Ickie Inline's Trim Tab Technology.
Mission: Obtain Trim Tab Technology

There it was, on a regular piece of notebook paper, the glorious Trim Tab Technology. I picked it up and read the first line. It was in the long-forgotten language of the extinct Allabonney tribes of Siberia, encoded in an uncrackable code and every word was written backwards. Fortunately, I knew the language of the Allabonney tribes of Siberia and quickly cracked the code and unscrambled the words. But before I could read the rather short Trim Tab Technology, there was a voice behind me.

"Stick 'em up!" barked the voice. It was Ickie Inline, with a .38 Special in his hand and a BB air pistol in the other. "Thought you could take my Trim Tab Technology, did you?" And Ickie exploded into fierce laughter. I went for the sock!
"Don't even think about it," Snapped Ickie, cocking the BB gun, "or I'll fill ya full of BBs."
I was trapped in the vault with Ickie standing in the only doorway covering my every move.
"Drop the Trim Tab Technology," he ordered.
"Make me," I retorted, grasping the Trim Tab Technology tightly in my fist. "It's mine now Ickie, forget about it."
"OK OK don't rip my Trim Tab Technology!" squealed Ickie, apparently afraid I was going to destroy the world's only copy of the greatest cheating implement ever discovered.
"I will if you don't let me out of here!" I threatened, tearing a little rip into the side of the paper.
"OK I will make deal, yes?" Ickie bargained.
"What's the deal?"
"We both fight in Rookie Kilters. If I win, you give back Trim Tab Technology. If you win, you get Trim Tab Technology. OK?"
"OK." I replied.

2145 hours Lunar Time.
Place: Ickie's airstrip.
Mission: Shoot down the Master Modder himself, the great Ickie Inline!

I throttled up my Rookie Kilter and Ickie jumped into his MegaMod. Up we went, and at 8,000 feet, Ickie gave the signal. We charged each other in a daring head on pass. I gripped the Trim Tab Technology paper ever so tightly as I pulled the trigger!

The next thing I knew, my Rookie Kilter was on fire. The canopy was shredded and the instrument panel was nothing but an burning and charred hole in front of me. One hit from that MegaMod had literally blown my Rookie Kilter from the sky. As I was plummeting down I tried the control stick in desperation. Aha! There was still some flight control. I leveled out the Rookie Kilter and checked the Trim Tab Technology paper. It was a bit charred but otherwise fine. But I could not shake the MegaMod from my tail. Clouds of bullets flew past me but somehow Ickie failed to hit my flaming Kilter. Ickie turned around for another head-on pass on me. I found that my Kilter's guns would not fire! I was a helpless, sitting duck! Here came Ickie, at about 950mph, his guns blaring! I knew what I had to do. As Ickie was just about to roar over my Rookie Kilter, I pulled up and at the same time bailed out.

In a massive explosion my Rookie Kilter hit the underside of the MegaMod, reducing it to flaming shreds of steel. As I floated down in the parachute, I unfolded the crinkled Trim Tab Technology and wiped the ashes from it. Squinting in the moonlight, I read the paper.

It said: "Drink Your Ovaltine."

-TC

hahahaha... Gotta love TC's corner!

(I'm a little biased, though ;))

TC's Corner #9, "What? You're from WHERE?"

"What? You’re from WHERE?"

Captains Log: Star Date 3415.4
The Enterprise was orbiting Rigel 12 when an urgent sub-space transmission came through from Star Fleet Command.

"Enterprise - This is Commodore Decker. We are at war with the Romulans. They have left the Neutral Zone and have attacked a helpless planet of Rookies in Sturmgruppe Sector 5. Your mission Enterprise is to go to Earth and Time Warp back to the 21st Century and locate a man wearing a black leisure suit and wearing Italian Rookie Killing shoes. He goes by the name PGTigercat. We need his Rookie Killing Technology before he sells it to the Romulans. Good Luck, Enterprise. Star Fleet Command - out."
"Mr. Chekhov, set course for Earth, warp factor 2," says Captain James T. Kirk.
"Aye aye Captain." Responded Chekhov.
"Spock, check the History Computers for PGTigercat."
"Affirmative, Captain," said Spock.
Captains Log: Star Date 3415.5
We have just Time Warped to the year 2001 and are orbiting Earth.
"Mr Spock, Scotty, Bones, to the transporter room," orders Captain Kirk. " Gentlemen, the history computer tells us this 'PGTigercat' is a very dangerous individual. He has killed many thousands of Rookies..... Energize."

Captains Log: Star Date 3515.51
We arrive outside of TC's Rookie Kilter Emplorium.
"Dagnabbit Jim, I hate having my molecules beamed all over the universe!" complained Dr. McCoy.
"Take it easy Bones," said Captain Kirk. "We have a job to do."
"Captain," says Spock.
"Yes, Mr. Spock?"
"There is a figure lurking in the shadows of this building."
"Right, Mr. Spock. Phasers on Stun."
We enter the establishment. A figure was lurking in the shadows.
"The history computers must be correct, Mr. Spock. That bald little man wearing the black leisure suit and Italian Rookie Killing shoes must be PGTigercat."
"Cap'n," cries Mr. Scott, "Tricorder readings are picking up a very large power source bearing 111 mark 14. Captain!"
"Yes, Mr. Scott?"
"Readings show the power source to be ion!"
"That’s impossible, Scotty."
"Captain, I'm positive its ion."
"It appears to be coming from those Italian Rookie Killing shoes on that man over there Captain," said Mr. Spock. "Perhaps prowling by stealth might be better than the direct approach."
"Perhaps, Mr. Spock, but I'm playing a hunch." said Captain Kirk.
"Excuse me, are you Mr. Tigercat?" Asked Captain Kirk.
"Ya found 'em pally. Now what’s with the toy space guns?" TC said as he raised one eyebrow and glanced over at the stranger…
"Mr. Tigercat, I am Captain James T. Kirk, Starship Enterprise. This is my first officer, Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy, and my Chief Engineer Mr. Scott. We are from your future."
"Yeah, right pally... Ickie Inline sent ya, right?" TC said with a smirk, "I knew he'd try to get his trim tab technology back, but this is ridiculous!"
"No, no, Mr. Tigercat," pleaded Captain James T. Kirk. "We are here because we need your help. You see, in our century we lost our Rookie Killing technology. We are here to take you and your Rookie Killing Machine with us."
"It ain't a Killing machine, pally. It’s a Kilting machine. And I ain't goin' anywhere wid you guys!" TC said as he swirled around in his genuine Italian Leather chair and dived under his desk.
"Phasers!" ordered Kirk. But they were too late. TC whipped off one of his socks, and in a cloud of fumes Spock, Bones, and Scotty crumpled to the floor barely conscious…but able to touch his communicator. Scotty was the closest to TC’s sock and he pulled off his shirt to filter out the noxious fumes knocking his communicator off.
"Enterprise!" gasped Kirk. "Four to beam up... <cough> <cough>.... "

"Hey, where'd them guys go, and what’s this fancy button for? TC’s quick wit and observation qualities let him realize this was no button, but a communications device! "Hmmm", said TC to himself," That there Captain touched this and then disappeared! I wonder"…

As TC pondered the situation, his curiosity got the better of him…
"Yo, you space guys in the ship up there, I'll make a deal wid ya."

"Kirk here. What kind of 'deal' do you mean, Mr. Tigercat?"
"OK pal, you fly against me one-on-one in a CFS showdown. If you win, I go with ya. If I win, you guys leave those cool toy space guns and warp out of here, deal?"
A few minutes went by and then TC heard… "Deal, Mr. Tigercat." said Kirk.

Captains Log: Star Date 3515.75
"Spock, check the history computer for 'CFS' and the best aircraft of that era to fly." Kirk said in a firm and overconfident voice.
"Affirmative, Captain. CFS is up and running, and history shows the P-47 Thunderbolt to be the logical choice. Fast, heavy armament, and able to withstand a considerable amount of combat damage"
"Perfect, Mr. Spock. Contact Mr. Tigercat and finalized the details." Kirk requested.
"OK pal, I'll set up the room. It'll say 'Enterprise Only' and the password is Rookie, hehehehe... got it, pally? And let me know when you’re in and I’ll give you the game settings."
"Got it, Mr. Tigercat." said Captain James T. Kirk.
Kirk registered and clicked on the "Enterprise Only" game and to the Ready Room where TC was waiting for him.
"OK Pal, here’s the deal. First to six kills, got it? OK pal, ready up."
"Roger Wilco" said Captain Kirk as he looked at Spock. "I always wanted to say that!"

Captains Log: Star Date 3515.77

The game got under way…
"Spock, he's coming in on a head on pass! This will be easy! Sulu, shields up, come around to course bearing 121 mark 44," ordered Captain Kirk.
"Captain," interrupted Spock, "you are supposed to use the Flight Stick in front of you."
"Oh, yes, of course!" said Captain James T. Kirk. "He's coming around this way, I got him, Mr. Spock. This will be a piece of cake."
"Captain, why are you bringing up into this matter of which the universe is at risk a simple culinary raised pastry?" asked Spock.
"Oh, never mind ... AGGGGHHHHHH .... Spock, I'm hit! I'm going down! ... " Yelled Captain Kirk.
"Captain, I believe the score is one to nothing, in favor of Mr. Tigercat." Retorted Spock in his usual Vulcan manner. Cpt Kirk just looked at Spock and quickly focused on the game at hand.
"I'm getting the hang of this, let's try that again, Mr. Tigercat." Captain Kirk said out loud. Spock looked at the Captain and said, "Sir, he can’t hear you." But Kirk was too busy concentrating to hear Spock.

"Again Spock, he is using the head-on pass. I've got him this .... AGGGHHHHH .... I'm going down again! *&$&%$ Spock!
"Captain," said Spock, "you are an excellent Starship Commander, but as a pilot of a single engine piston monoplane, you leave much to be desired."
"Obviously Spock, your choice of the P-47 Thunderbolt is flawed. I need to communicate with Mr. Tigercat; I am going to change my aircraft! How do we do that Spock? Asked Captain Kirk.
Spock quickly reasoned that you need an old communications device called a keyboard to do that, and then he remembered that TC still had the communicator. He told the Captain about it.
"I will be right back." Captain Kirk told TC as he hit his communicator button…"yes sir…right back!"
"No hurry pally. I'll be waitin for ya." The Captain couldn’t see it but TC had a big grin on his face.

"Hmmmmm...." thought Captain James T. Kirk. "I'll try the P-51 Mustang which offers superior handling characteristics. OK, Mr. Tigercat, you will now meet your match."
"Bring it on pally. TC is a waiting for ya!" Exclaimed TC.
"Mr. Spock, I will avoid the head-on pass and pull up behind him!"
"Excellent choice Captain." said Mr. Spock.
Captain Kirk tried to do the loop over and come around when…
"AGGGGHHHH!!!" said Captain James T. Kirk. "Shields buckling, she's breaking up!" The Captain’s plane ended in a fiery ball on the ground.
"Captain, I believe the score is now Three in Mr. Tigercat's favor and none in ours." said Mr. Spock. "Logically Captain we should close on Mr. Tigercat's craft at a higher rate of speed and using a high vertex of maneuvering angle."
Captain Kirk looked at Spock and said, "All right Mr. Spock, you have a go."
"Affirmative, Captain. After all, it’s simple logic. Spock to Mr. Tigercat - engaging." Spock told TC.
"Watch out Spock, a head on pass!" cried Captain Kirk.
CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!!! BOOOOOOOOMMMMM!!!!
"All right Spock, you collided! Congratulations, we now have our First Kill!"
"Obviously Captain, superior piloting skills allowed me to collide with Mr. Tigercat's craft and provide us with our First Kill. Illogically Captain, Mr. Tigercat should not have pulled up. I will now exploit Mr. Tigercat's weakness."
"Watch out here he comes, Spock! Helm, hard to port!"
"AGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!" Cried Spock! And his plane fell to earth in a fiery ball with one wing gone.
"Spock," snapped Dr McCoy, "I thought Vulcan's never screamed."
"Shut up, Doctor." Retorted Spock in a snappy voice!
"Let me try’r Cap'n!" Pleaded Scotty.
"OK Scotty, you are our last hope! WAIT, what is it, Mr Spock?" said Captain Kirk.
"History tapes show of a place called Crow Foot's where you may download a flying machine called a Mod. It is a craft of superior performance and firepower to that of Mr. Tigercat's."
"Do it, Spock!" ordered Captain Kirk.
"Er, Mr. Tigercat, Kirk here. We, um, are having Flight Stick errors; we need a few moments to make Uh…corrections Kirk out!".... "Sure thing Captain." Replied TC.
"How’s it coming Mr. Spock?" Asked Captain Kirk.
"Downloaded, installed and ready, Captain." Replied Spock.
"OK, Mr. Tigercat lets make a new deal." Kirk requested.
"Yeah, what sort of new deal you got in mind pally?"
"I shoot you down, you come with us," said Captain Kirk. "You shoot us down, we leave, and we start the game over, is it a deal?"
" I still get the guns… right Kirk? Demanded TC.
Kirk looked at Spock and said, "He can’t possibly win Spock, lets do it."
" Deal TC"…
"Ok pally, back to the Ready Room!" Said TC.
Captains Log: Star Date 3515.77
"Ready up Captain and lets go!" cried TC.
"Captain, here he comes!" warned Dr McCoy.
"I'm on him, Bones. He's a tricky one. Darn it, Mr. Spock, I missed!"
"He's coming around again, Captain, better get him!" Yelled Dr. McCoy.
"I see him. Here he comes... steady, steady... fire! SPOCK! I got him! He's going down!" Captain Kirk said with a big grin on his face.
"Good shot, Jim!" cried Dr McCoy.
"Thanks, Bones," said Captain James T. Kirk. "All right Mr. Tigercat, prepare to have yourself and your computer beamed aboard the Enterprise."
Captains Log: Star Date 3515.78
"Captain," informed Spock, "sensors show Mr. Tigercat has boarded a second aircraft and is heading straight for the Enterprise."
"Mr. Sulu, shields up!"
"Aye aye Captain."
"Mr. Chehkov, bring us to course 213 mark 21 and ready Photon Torpedoes and bring all tubes to bear." Barked Captain Kirk.
"Captain," said Spock urgently. "Sensors are picking up that Ion Power Source again, and it is coming from Mr. Tigercat's aircraft."
"Are you sure, Spock?" Asked Captain Kirk in a worried voice.
"Yes Captain. As sure as we are sitting here!" Replied Spock.
"Uhura, open up a hailing frequency to Mr. Tigercat's aircraft."
"Captain, he is not responding."
"Captain," said Spock, "he is closing fast."
"Warp factor 3 Mr. Sulu, lets get some maneuvering room."
"Aye aye Captain." Mr. Sulu responded.
"Captain," said Mr. Spock hastily. "Mr. Tigercat has just gone Stealth."
"&&$&%& Jim, that’s where the Romulans got that technology from!" cried Dr McCoy.
"That’s right, Bones." said Captain Kirk. " That or from a place called "The Zone."
"Captain," said Spock. "Sensors have lost him."
"Spock, we are sitting ducks." Exclaimed Captain Kirk.
"What do earth fowl have to do with this, Captain?" Asked Spock with one eyebrow raised.
"Never mind, Spock. Sometimes your just too…" But before he could finish…
BOOM BOOM BOOM!!!
"Captain, Number 3 and Number 4 Shields are buckling." Screamed Mr. Sulu
"Mr. Scott, damage control report." Ordered Captain Kirk.
"Capt’n, the Warp Drive is out and the transporter is inoperable," cried Mr. Scott. "We are operating on Impulse Power. Dylithium crystals are cracked."
"Mr. Spock, what could have that much power as to have caused that much damage to the Enterprise?"
"Captain, sensors show a glowing green fume trail, but unable to ascertain power source." said Mr. Spock.
"Captin, the shields will be unable to take another charge!" warned Scotty.
"Mr. Tigercat is no longer Stealth, Captain." said Mr. Spock.
"Captain, we are being hailed by Mr. Tigercat," said Uhura.
"Put it up on screen," said Captain Kirk.
"Kirk, pal," said TC, "you should not have flown that mod. It ticked me off and so I had to get ruff and bring out the "secret weapons"."
"Mr. Tigercat, you must listen to me, we desperately need that technology to save the universe." pleaded Captain Kirk.
"Hey pal, why didn't you say so in the first place? Just download it off my site, www.RookieKilter.com," said TC.
Spock and Captain Kirk looked at each other in disbelief…
"Why didn't you tell us that in the first place Mr. Tigercat?" snapped Captain Kirk.
"Cause (HEHE), ya never asked me," said TC. "Yo, live long and prosper, pally."

TC

TC's Corner #10, "Zeke 'Scrap Iron' Bodine"

Howdy, my name is Zeke 'Scrap Iron' Bodine!

Yes its time for another TC's corner and this week I am going to tell you about an article I read in 'Rookie Kilter Magazine's. This story is about a very important behind the scenes guy named Zeke 'Scrap Iron' Bodine.

Mr. Bodine writes:

Howdy, my name is Zeke 'Scrap Iron' Bodine. I is the owner of "The Rookie Cleanup and Hazardous Waste Disposal Co." That there job I has is a scrapen’ all them thar dade rookies off of the ceement.

It ain't no purdy job neither, but I has a cents of duty and someone has got to do it. Now lately there has been a lot more of them thar dade rookies on the ceement. I here tell that thar is a rookie kilten madman on that thar loose! I here telt he is that tar Devil hisself. Ever day I's wakes up to a roar and a thunder like you never did hear't. I's hears the "Devil’s" guns ablazen and down comes another of them thar dade rookies!

Then, I’s got to put on my radiation protection suit because for some reason those dade rookies aeroplane is always a glowen green.
When I's gets to that thar festering heap of a shot up and crashed rookie aeroplane, sometimes that thar rookie ain't dade yet! Almost mind ya, and he’s a slipin’ fast, but I git down my head and listen to his last words before he goes off to thet far away hanger in the sky.

The story never changes and it’s always the same! That thar rookie telts me about the horrible sight of that thar madman rookie kilter, and how's he never had a chance in his 'Stock' aeroplane. And you know what? Ever time I's gets to that thar crashed festering heap rookie aeroplane theys’ wallet is always gone, and that makes me wonder if theys’ ever carries a wallet. Then I's got to put that thar poor rookie out of his misery.

Then I's got to scrape that dade rookie off of the ceement and I takes the remains of the dade rookies 'Stock' aeroplane to this here fellars 'Rookie Kilten Emporium’ That fellar at the Emporium pays me big money for these hear plane parts and for some reason, he wants them rooks socks too! I's don't like he makes me take the socks of those dade rookies feet.
He tolt me never to ask him why those dade rookies aeroplanes are a glowen green and what he uses the scrap metal for.

But I hear tells that he makes those Devil machines out of them! I hear telt they is called 'Genuine Rookie Kilters'. I 's tells ya they is the work of the Devil!

He tolt me his name is TC and how he just got back from the big house. That house must be purdy big cause the house he has now has 40 rooms! This TC fellar dresses kind of funny, and he's always a warren Black. He smells sort of funny too; all frilly like and I's can't get to close to that TC fellar on account he smells sort of like Aqua Velva.

Something must be wrong with his feet cause he's a warren these fancy Italian shoes with some sort of green stuff a coming out of them. That TC fellar always buys all the scrape metal from them dade rookies aeroplanes, and those rooks socks, but what is the most frightening part for me is collectin my money from that thar TC fellar. He always pulls out a different wallet and try's to pay me in old burned up money!
I's a wonders about that TC fellar.

Zeke Bodine
-TC

- Zeke Bodine

I's a wonders about that TC fellar.

I've been a wonderin about that TC feller for about 15 years, myself...

Bush, if you don't post the next TC Corner soon, you'll have a riot on your hands here!

TC's #11

FAN Mail…and more than one too!

Yo! All you CFS pilots, Iately I have received a large volume of fan mail sent to me by my loyal fan, errrr, I mean fans. I am not making these letters up. A real person, errr, real people other than myself sent them. I will try my best to answer each letter and question to exact detail.

The first letter:

Hey TC, you punk!
Your Rookie Killers are cheat machines! I am not a rookie but you still shot me down. Why is that? And by the way your column stinks.
Sincerely,

RoOkieSqUeaLer"

Dear RoOkieSqUeaLer,
They are Rookie KILTERS, not KILLERS. And I only shot you down because you crossed my line of fire. True, true, this line of fire happened to follow you around for about 45 seconds before shooting you down, but unfortunately there was an obvious Zone malfunction that made my plane aim for yours despite all my attempts to stop it. I am very, very sorry. And by the way, you fly like a Rookie.
-TC

The second letter:

Yo! TC, I need some help.
This guy came into my Ark Royal game and said he was a Rookie. But he was flying an Ickie Inline Super Mod and kept shooting us once we landed on the carrier deck. My question for you is should I let the guy keep doing this, or should I boot him?
Signed,
Rookie_Fred"

Dear Rookie_Fred,
You should not boot him and you should not let him keep attacking you. Obviously you need to download one of Crow_Foot's patented "Game Freezing Killer Mods" and next time that guy comes in, just pull the trigger and freeze the game. That'll teach him.
-TC

The third letter:

"Wazzap TC.
I would just like to thank you for keeping the Rookie population down. I remember a few years ago before you got here when every room was a Rookie Room and they were corrupting our game. But thanks to you, the fun has been brought back and now I can fly without all those pesky Rookies in my way. We all appreciate your self-less efforts and thanks again for bringing the fun back to CFS.
Thank you!
RookieBlaster21"

Dear RookieBlaster,
HAHAHA nice try Blaster! I know you. You are really a pesky Rookie trying to slip past me by being friendly and all. Well, IT DIDN'T WORK
- TC

The forth letter:

Hello there TC,
I really need help fast. That Genuine Rookie Kilter I bought from you last week must have had a critical error in the downloading process. Every time I try to kilt Rookies with it, these Rookies in Sopwith Camels just keep shooting me down. At first I thought it was just my poor flight skills, but when I happened to check the Gun Stations and found this: "Armament - one .12-calibre popgun" I just kinda thought that your plane may be slightly in error, probably from a bad download. Please send me a patch!
Yours Truly,
Rookie_Doofus"

Dear Rookie_Doofus,
I checked my records and yes indeed I accidentally sold you a defective Rookie Kilter. Simply send $299.99 to the "TC Rookie Kilter Builter Emplorium" and I will send a patch right away!
Your Friend,
-TC

The fifth letter:

Dear Valued Customer,
The Leisure Suit Factory would like to invite you, yes, YOU, to our BLOWOUT SUPER SALE of ALL: LESUIRE SUITS. That’s right; ALL LESUIRE SUITS are 5% OFF NORMAL DISCOUT SAVINGS PRICES! Act now and we will throw in a free YEARS SUPPLY of AQUA VELVA for ALL PURCHASES WITHIN THE NEXT 5 DAYS!
Yours Truly,
The Friendly Folks at the Leisure Suit Factory."

Dear Friendly Folks at the Leisure Suit Factory,
Dratted SPAM!
-TC

The last one:

To all CFS Rookies,
You have received this E-mail because you requested to be added to this year's Annual Rookie Convention in Albuquerque New Mexico. If you are NOT a ROOKIE, then STAY OUT!!! This is for genuine Rookies only. If you are a real Rookie, please bring a stock Hawker or P-51. We will have a good time flying with no Rookie Killers to bother us. If you plan to be there, please respond to this E-mail indicating you will be present.
Your Fellow Rookie,
Rookie_Boss"

Dear Rookie_Boss,
I'll be there ... hehehehehehe.
Signed,
PGTig .... errrrr ... Rookie_Slayer.
-PGTigercat

i remember when these were new.....feeling old again......