Breasts.  Lots of breasts.  Scantily clad breasts.  Breasts breasts breasts.  Boobs, tits, hooters, juggs, melons, whoppers, pillows, feedbags, globes, all bouncing merrily along their way, obliviously attached to a rib cage that tapers down to a thin waist, luscious ass, and long legs.  Oh, and a head-thing (empty, of course) was slapped on just above ‘em.  Breasts.  Breasts breasts breasts.

Much to SPOOFE’s chagrin, he wasn’t able to touch them.  Indeed, he was more than a mile away, tucked away in the hills above the Playboy mansion, staring at the perpetual party through his powerful binoculars.

“What do you see?” Kat asked.

“Erect nipples,” SPOOFE said.  “Lots of ‘em.”

“Gimme those,” Kat said, snatching the binoculars.  She looked through them.  “Wow, you’re right.  Damn, those’re huge...”  She yanked her eyes away from the lenses and shook her head.  “Must... erase... mental image...”

“All right, we need to formulate a plan,” SPOOFE said, turning around to his team.  “Chris, get your tongue out of Kia’s mouth.”

Chris complied, his tongue popping out and flapping around in his mouth a bit.  The two crazy, horny lovers glanced over to see what was more important than their making-out.

“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do,” SPOOFE continued.  He reached into his field kit and produced about three cubic inches of cloth and a few feet of dental floss.  “Kat, Kia, these are your disguises so we can infiltrate the mansion without incurring suspicion.”

Kat eyed the “disguises” warily.  “Those are disguises?  What are they supposed to disguise?”

“Your prudishness.  Put it on.”

“I don’t even know what this is!”

SPOOFE sighed.  “It’s a swimsuit.  Now put it on!”

Kat held the eensy-weensy swimsuit in front of her.  “I can roll in the dirt and conceal more than this.”

“You have two options,” SPOOFE declared, “wear the damn suit or have sex with me.”

“I’ll wear the damn suit.”  She paused for a few moments.  “Will you at least turn around?”

“No.”

 

Several minutes later, SPOOFE and Spooge were clad in loose bathing trunks and t-shirts and wandering amongst a veritable paradise of hooters.  Kia and Kat accompanied them, Kia trying to keep Kat from constantly covering herself up.

“Don’t put me in any more of these stories,” Kat said.  “I always seem to wind up half-naked.”

“Just be glad you’re not all-naked,” SPOOFE replied.

“I might as well be!” Kat wailed, once again crossing her arms over her breasts.  Kia yanked her arms back down to her sides again.

“Calm down,” Kia soothed.  “Consider it an acting exercise.  Just pretend to be stupid and slutty.”

With a sigh, Kat rolled her eyes.  “Like, okay,” she said, raising her voice to just under “annoying”.

During all of this, Spooge had wandered off.  Almost instantly, he had struck up a conversation with some random, large-breasted Playmate, and not long after that he was batting her breasts back and forth and giggling.  Kia rushed over, grabbed his ear, and yanked him back to the group.

“No hanky-panky during business hours, Spooge,” SPOOFE lectured sternly.  “Now listen up... we’ve got to get inside the mansion itself.  That’s undoubtedly where Spears’ campaign manager is hiding.”

“Why’s that?” Kia asked.

“Well, inside the house, people are naked,” SPOOFE replied.

Kat squeaked again.  “And I have to go in there?!?”

“Yes, you do,” SPOOFE answered.  “You’re a soldier!  Act like it!”

The four of them walked towards the rear entrance to the mansion (Kat kept picking at the G-string shoved up her ass crack).  Standing in front of the door was a short, balding man with a goofy smile and squinty eyes, wearing a funny, poofy shirt and tights.

“Hold it right there!” he said.  “I suppose you want to get in here, hmm?”

“We sure do,” SPOOFE said.

“I can’t allow that,” the man said.  “You want entrance into that which I’ve rightfully stolen.”

“What are you talking about?” SPOOFE asked.  “Who are you?”

The short, balding man spread his arms wide and grinned.  “My name is Vizzini,” he said, “and I guard this place!”

“You mean, we can’t get in at all?”

“Short of beating me up, no.”

SPOOFE shrugged and raised his fist to beat Vizzini to a bloody pulp.

“Wait wait wait!” he said.  “At least let me insult your mental capacity.  You see, I can’t compete with you physically, and you’re no match for my brain.”

“You’re that smart?” SPOOFE asked, lowering his fist.

“Let me put it this way,” Vizzini said.  “You ever hear of Aristotle, Socrates, Plato?”

“Yes.”

“Morons.”

“Really?” SPOOFE said, amused.  “Well, in that case, I propose a battle of wits.”

Vizzini grinned.  “For entrance to the mansion?”

SPOOFE nodded.

“To the death?!?”

SPOOFE nodded.

Vizzini gestured to a small table and chairs.  “I accept.”

“Good.  Then pour the wine,” SPOOFE said, pointing at the decanter and two cups on the table.

While Vizzini poured the wine, SPOOFE pulled a small vial out of his pocket.  “Inhale this but do not touch,” SPOOFE said, handing the vial to Vizzini.

Vizzini took a sniff of the vial.  “I smell nothing.”

“What you do not smell is called Michael Caine powder,” SPOOFE said.  “It is odorless, tasteless, dissolves instantly in fluid, and is among the deadliest poisons known to man.”

Vizzini smiled and nodded, as if amused by the properties of the powder.  SPOOFE took the two glasses of wine and twisted around, hiding the cups with his body.  A few seconds later, he placed the cups back on the table.

“Very well... where is the poison?” SPOOFE asked.  “The Battle of Wits has begun.  It ends when we both drink and we find out who is right... and who is dead.”

“But it’s so simple,” Vizzini said.  “I simply have to divine what I know of you... are you the kind of man to put the poison in his own goblet, or his enemies’?”

Right then, SPOOFE nodded to Chris, who reached down, grabbed Vizzini’s head, and twisted.  There was a sharp snapping sound, and Vizzini fell over, dead.

“I guess you just weren’t smart enough to play dirty,” SPOOFE said.

“Yeah, well, where was the poison, anyway?” Kat asked, trying her best to hide herself with her hands.

SPOOFE scoffed.  “There was no poison.  That was just an empty vial.  Which reminds me...”  He grabbed the two cups and downed their contents, then grabbed the bottle and finished off the wine stored in there, too.  “Now, let’s go in!”

They stepped through the door.  Inside the mansion was cold and low-lit, and the floors, walls, and ceiling consisted of flat metallic plates.  Bluish lights were built into the panels overhead, and small vents dotted the walls.  A low, continuous pulse echoed through the place from massive ventilation fans.

SPOOFE led his squad down a hallway.  Doors lined either side.  They passed one with a sign that read “Textiles”.

“Hey, let’s go in there,” Kat said.

“Why?” SPOOFE asked.

“Because it’s cold in here,” she responded.

SPOOFE glanced down at her breasts.  “Yes, it’s very evident.”

Kat covered her erect nipples.  “Yeah, yeah... look in your pants.”

SPOOFE pulled his waistband out and looked in... and screamed.  “Little SPOOFE!!!  You’re small and dinky!!!”

Kat smirked.  “Ha... ha... ha.”

“Fine, you win,” SPOOFE said.  He opened the door to the Textiles room.

A woman approached them.  “Welcome to The Gap,” she said, a fake smile plastered on her face.

SPOOFE shrieked.  Katharine shrieked.  Kia shrieked.  Chris shrieked.  They all pulled out their weapons and began firing.  The Gap-lady - taking several hundred shots to the head, torso, arms, legs, crotch, gut, neck, shoulders, and several other parts of the body heretofore unknown to exist in the human anatomy - collapsed in a pool of her own liquefied organs.

“Die!  Di-i-i-i-i-ie!” SPOOFE bellowed, grabbing a nearby club and pounding on the pile of goo.  Splotches of red and pink began sailing around the area.

“Stop it, stop it!” Katharine yelled.

“She’s already dead!” Kia added.  “You can’t kill her anymore!”

SPOOFE growled.  “Sure I can!”  He continued pounding, faster and faster and faster, and within a few minutes, the room erupted in a massive gout of flame.  Strangely, Kat and Kia, who were wearing next-to-nothing, were left unharmed.  SPOOFE and Chris, however, were slightly scorched.  When the fire subsided, there was no sign of the Gap-lady’s remains.

“What happened?” Chris asked.

SPOOFE grinned.  “Enough force was applied to her remains that all of the matter in her body was annihilated into its energy state!”

Kat sighed, and walked over to the racks of clothes (which, strangely, were also left unscathed).  She began picking through the available garments, looking for something that looked good.

“What do you think, Kia?” she asked, holding up a shirt and some jeans.

Kia took a step back and studied the outfit.  “Nah, that’ll make your butt look big.”

SPOOFE leaned close to Chris.  “Like that’s hard to do,” he whispered with a snicker.

Kia and Kat glanced over.  “What was that?”

“He said, ‘Like that’s hard to do,’” Chris answered.

“Asshole,” SPOOFE mumbled.  Kat shmacked SPOOFE in the back of the head.  “Ow!” SPOOFE yelped.  “What was that for?!?”

“‘Cuz I felt like it,” Kat replied with a huff (she always gets in these hissy-fits).

Kat shmacked SPOOFE again.

“Hey, what’d I do now?!?”

“Don’t think I can’t read,” Kat replied.  “Now, I’m going to go change into these clothes.”

She walked off towards the changing room.  SPOOFE followed right behind her.  Kat stopped.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Kat asked.

“I’m going to help you change.”

“Like hell you are,” Kat answered.

SPOOFE frowned and flashed the ol’ puppy-dog-eyes-that-never-work-at-least-not- on-Kat.  “Aww... can’t I come with?”

“No.  Go away.”

“Pweeeeeease?”

“No!”

“Pwetty-pweeeease?!?”

Kat sighed.  “You really want to come?”

SPOOFE grinned.  “Yup, sure do.”

She grabbed SPOOFE’s shirt and pulled him along towards the changing room, a smug and knowing smile on her face.  A few seconds later, there was a loud snapping sound, followed by a very high-pitched screech.  SPOOFE appeared again with a mousetrap attached to his groin.  He gritted his teeth, and yanked the mousetrap away.

“OOOOOCH, ow ow ow ow ow ow....”

He tossed the mousetrap away and crouched to the floor, trying to regain feeling to Lil’ SPOOFE.  As he sat there, Kat returned, newly-dressed (she even had a bra on, so her jiggle-factor was minimal).

Kia, on the other hand, simply shucked off her ultra-super-mega-skimpy bikini off and began prancing around naked.  “Look, look!” she announced.  “No clothes!  No clothes!  La la la, I’m butt-naked, la la la!”

“Yeah, yeah, big deal,” SPOOFE and Chris said together.

Kia pouted.  “How come you guys get all wide-eyed and aroused at the thought of Kat naked, but you don’t even pay attention when I actually am naked?”

“Well,” SPOOFE explained, “you’re naked almost all the time.  Frankly, it’s just not special anymore.  Now get some clothes on so we can finish our mission.”

With an angry sigh, Kia “threw on” (that is, she took two hours to find an outfit, and another hour to fix her makeup) some clothes, and they all left the Textiles room.

The group proceeded down the hall in standard Diamond formation: SPOOFE taking the lead, Kia and Kat taking flanking positions, and Chris (being the tallest) taking up the rear.  SPOOFE pulled out his motion tracker and handed it to Kia to scan for potential hostiles.  The continued down the hallway, and after a few moments found themselves in a large chamber, lined with tables and computer equipment.  The door slid shut behind them... and right then, Kia’s motion tracker began beeping.

“We’ve got movement!” Kia announced.  The group tensed up, and began visually scanning the room.  “That direction,” Kia said, pointing to one of the side doors.  They all backed up against the opposite wall, facing the door.

“How many targets?” SPOOFE asked.

Kia glanced at the tracker’s readout screen.  “Uh... a lot... more than fifty...”

“What?!?” SPOOFE gasped.  “Are you sure the thing’s not broken?!?”

“It’s reading right!” Kia insisted.

“Then you’re not reading it right,” Kat hissed, tightly gripping her MP-5, betraying her nervous tension.

“How many hostiles are there?” SPOOFE asked through gritted teeth.

Kia glanced down at her tracker.  “Uh... a lot.  This is a big fucking signal.”

“How far?” Chris asked.

“Twenty meters,” Kia said.  “Fifteen meters... ten meters... seven... six...”

“That can’t be,” Kat mumbled, “that’s inside the room!”

SPOOFE grabbed a chair and jumped up on it, then used the barrel of his MP-5 to prop up a ceiling tile.  He glanced into the crawlspace...

“Gah!!!” SPOOFE screamed.  “Orthodox Jews!”  He began firing his gun into the ceiling, just as tiles began shattering, and enrobed rabbis began pouring into the chamber.

“Don’t eat pork!” they screamed.  “No cheese on hamburgers!  Read the freakin’ Torah, you shmucks!”

Chris, Kia, and Kat all joined in with firing their weapons.  Jews began jumping all over the place, waving their yarmulke’s  and prayer shawls about.  SPOOFE ducked behind a pillar as a series of six-pointed ninja stars flew towards him.  Kia got grazed in the leg and stumbled, but Chris jumped up and covered her while she took a few seconds to recover.

Kat found herself separated from the group, pinned in a corner while a half-dozen Jews closed in on her.  Worse yet, her gun ran out of ammo.

After a moment of panicking, she pointed and squeaked, “Look, the Messiah!”

The Jews whirled around to see, and Kat took the opportunity to pull a new clip off her bandolier.  She slammed it home, and began firing again.  Chunks of orthodoxy began flying.

SPOOFE got tackled by one Jew wielding a miniature guillotine.  They wrestled back and forth, and SPOOFE lost his grip on his gun.  The Jew slammed SPOOFE’s head into the ground, then prepared the mini-guillotine for use.  He brought it down near SPOOFE’s crotch...

Kia managed to pull a small gun out of her bra, and from across the room, she managed to fire off a shot and nail SPOOFE’s would-be circumciser in the shoulder.  He spasmed in pain, and Chris ran towards him.

“Tell Yahweh I say ‘Good Sabbath!’” Chris screamed, shoving his MP-5 into the Jew’s beard and pulling the trigger.

“Oy!” the Jew uttered just as his neck exploded under the gunfire.

“We’re overmatched!” SPOOFE yelled.  “Fall back, fall back!”

The four turned heel and bolted.  They ran through a doorway and slammed the door shut.

“What’ll we do?” Kat asked, breathing hard.

“Hey, I like when you’re out of breath like that,” SPOOFE said.  “It makes your boobs jiggle.”

“Yeah, forget them for a second,” Kat growled.  “How’re we gonna escape?”

SPOOFE pulled out a small metal cylinder.  “This is how,” he grinned.  “Canned Palestinian.”

He removed the pop-top lid, then opened the door and threw it into the previous chamber, then slammed the door shut again.  “That oughta hold ‘em for a while,” SPOOFE said.  “Let’s go.”

They marched down a long hallway, holding their weapons tensely.  Eventually, they found a large, round, wooden door, painted green.  It was built into an earthen embankment, with tree roots growing around it.  There was a doorknob built right into the center of the door.  SPOOFE twisted the knob and opened the door, stooping a little bit to enter.  He found himself in a well-furnished sitting room, with a few bookshelves along one edge, and a large chair and desk sitting underneath a window.

“Hello?” a voice called.  “Who’s come calling?”

A short, squat man appeared in the hallway across the room.  He was about three feet tall, dressed finely in a green jacket, with an apron.  He had curly brown hair on his head, and curly brown hair on his feet.

“Oh, dear me, visitors,” the short man said.  “Half a moment, please, while I put some tea on.”

“Wait, wait, we don’t want any tea,” SPOOFE said.  “Who are you?”

“Oh, forgive me, forgive me!” the short man said.  He bowed.  “Dildo Baggins, at your service.  I’m a snobbit.”

“Uh... okay,” SPOOFE said.  “What do you do here?”

Dildo began counting off on his finger.  “Well, I rapidly climb in and out of vaginal orifices, anal orifices, oral orifices, and coordinate Al Gore’s presidential campaign.  Plus, I slice, dice, sanitize, and pulverize, and can turn a potato into a tomato in six seconds flat.”

“Is that so?” SPOOFE asked.  “Why are you living underneath the Playboy mansion?”

Dildo grinned.  “Who’s orifices do you think I climb in and out of?”

“You stimulate Playboy Playmates?”

“No, I stimulate Hugh Hefner.”

SPOOFE frowned.  “Hugh Hefner has a vagina?”

Dildo nodded.  “Hugh Hefner has everything, baby.”

“What’s it look like?”

With a slight grunt of confusion, and after a brief pause, Dildo leaned over to Kia.  “He flunked Sex-Ed, didn’t he?”

“Pretty much,” Kia said.  “And a bunch of other things, too.”

SPOOFE shmacked Kia.  “Shut up.”

Kia shmacked him back.  “No, you shut up.”

“No, you shut up!”

“No, you shut up!”

“No, you shut up!”

“No, you shut up!”

“No, you shut up!”

“No, you shut up!”

“No, you shut up!”

Kat shmacked the both of them.  “Both of you shut up!  We’ve got a story to finish!”

They both lowered their heads in shame.  “Yes, dear,” they both said together.

“Well, now, isn’t this so lovely!” Dildo said, clapping his hands together and giggling.  “Perhaps you’d like to come into the sitting room and enjoy some tea?  I can show you my new doilies.”

Chris was scratching his forehead.  “Are you gay?”

“I’m very gay,” Dildo replied.  “In fact, I’m gay all day long.  There’s nothing I love better than being gay.  Gay is a great thing to be.  I love to hang around gay people, too.  And I love to make other people gay.  Gay is a great thing.”  He paused.  “Are you happy, as well?”

“No, no,” Chris mumbled, shaking his head.  “Not ‘gay’ as in ‘happy’... ‘gay’ as in ‘fag’, ‘homo’, ‘queer’, ‘fruit’, ‘fairy’...”

“I don’t understand,” Dildo replied.

Chris sighed.  “Do you fuck other guys, or do you dig a nice, wet, tight pussy?”

“Oh, I see,” Dildo said.  “I don’t like pussy.  I prefer sheep, myself.  Felines always hiss and scratch.”

“Really?” Chris said.  “I haven’t had much trouble with the hissing and scratching... just the biting.”

“Shut up, Chris,” Kia said.

“No, you shut up,” Chris replied.

“No, you shut up!”

“No, you shut up!”

“No, you shut up!”

“No, you shut up!”

“No, you shut up!”

“No, you shut up!”

“No, you shut up!”

Kat shmacked the both of them.  “Both of you shut up!” she said again.

They both bowed their heads in shame.  “Yes, dear,” they both said.

“So,” Dildo said, “what brings you here?  Some fun lovin’?  The wombats?  Pure serendipity?”

“Actually, we’re looking for someone,” SPOOFE answered.  “I don’t know if you’d know him... Britney Spears’ campaign manager?”

Dildo rubbed his little snobbit chin.  “Hmm... that’d be ol’ Spamwise son of Belfast Orgee.  You’ll find him over in the strip club.”

“Strip club...?” SPOOFE began.

Dildo hooked his thumb over his shoulder.  “Go out that door, make a left, a right, a right, a left, another left, a right, a left, left, left, right, left, right, right, left, right, right, right, left, left, right, left, right, left, left, left, left, left, left, left, left, left, left, left, left, right.  Then twirl around three times and a quarter on your heels, tap your testicles together, then chant “ERAU QSSI DLRO WEHT” five times fast.  Oh, and be sure to be naked the whole time.  Finally, you’ll be teleported to a magical land where butt raping occurs on a secondly basis, and you’ll have to swallow a gallon of water while reciting the Bootysburg Address.  Can you remember all that?”

SPOOFE glanced at Chris.  Chris glanced at Kia.  Kia glanced at Kat.  Kat glanced at SPOOFE.  SPOOFE glanced at Kat.  Chris glanced at Kat.  Kia glanced at Kat.  EVERYONE glanced at Kat.

“What, what?!?” Kat asked, annoyed.  “You expect me to remember all that?!?  Who’s the only natural blonde of the group?!?”

“Oh, Kat, don’t be ridiculous,” SPOOFE said.  “We all know you’re brunette on the inside.”

“You take that back,” Kat insisted.

“Sure, if you’ll sleep with me.”

Kat glared and crossed her arms.  “If we ever did anything, it’d be so boring all I would do is sleep.”

The audience “oooooh”-ed.  One female member shouted “You go, girlfriend!”

“Hey, now, let’s keep things calm,” Jerry Springer said.

“No, no, listen, Jerry,” SPOOFE said, “this [beep]in’ little [beep] has been [beep]in’ my [beepity beep beep beep] for [beep beep beep beeeeeeeeeeeeep beep] for [beep]in’ years!”

Kat threw her palm up in SPOOFE’s face.  “Don’t even go there!  Don’t even go there!”

SPOOFE began shouting.  He held his hand up for more emphasis. “[beep beep beep beepity beep boop beep beep bip beep]!!”

“Artoo-Detoo, where are you?” a prissy voice yelled from the background.s

“[beep beep],” Kat yelled back, jumping out of her chair.  “[beep beep beep] forks [beep beep beep] pigeon [beep beep beepity beep]!”

SPOOFE also jumped to his feet.  “[beep beep] klaatu [beep boop] barada [beep beep beep] nikto [beep]!”

Security guards ran up and secured the two of them just before they came to blows.  The crowd began chanting “Jerr-y!  Jerr-y!  Jerr-y!”  SPOOFE and Kat were forced back into their seats, but the second the security guys let them go, they were both back on their feet.  They rushed at each other and began punching and slapping and pinching and tittie-twisting... the security guys pulled them apart, but once again they got free and rushed at each other.  Kat powerslammed SPOOFE through a table, ending the fight.

The crowd continued chanting “Jerr-y!  Jerr-y!  Jerr-y!”

SPOOFE pulled himself out of the wreckage of the table.  “How did we get on the Jerry Springer show?”

“And how did I powerslam you through a table?” Kat asked.

“And how did I build that perpetual-motion machine last week?” Dildo wondered.  “Ah, nevermind... I’d best take you down to the strip club myself.  I could use a good rise.”

He led them down the hall and through a door, leaving Jerry Springer and his hillbilly fans behind.  They found themselves in a large room with a huge catapult.  The word “Acme” was printed along its side.

“Here we go,” Dildo said.  He climbed into the catapult, then pulled the switch.  “Sproing!” went the catapult, and the snobbit was launched through a small shaft.

“Well, no nuts, no glory,” SPOOFE said.  He jumped into the catapult and followed after.  One by one the other three duplicated the maneuver.  They hurled along through a long, curved passageway.  They emerged in another cavern, and they all bounced off of a trampoline and came to rest in a massive, heart-shaped pillow.

“In here, in here!” Dildo called, pointing to a large doorway with a red light hanging above it.  The four followed after him.  They were stopped by a four-and-a-half-foot-tall bouncer at the door.

“Hold it, bub,” the bouncer said.  “You’re not on da list.”

Dildo tapped him on the shoulder.  “Don’t worry, Bruce, they’re with me.”

Bruce turned to glare at Dildo.  “You’re not on da list, either.”

Dildo chuckled nervously, then slipped a fifty-dollar bill into Bruce’s pocket.

“T’anks,” Bruce said, “now I can buy dat Home Enema kit I’ve been wanting.  But yer still not on da list.”

SPOOFE sighed and pulled out his MP5 submachine gun.  He rolled his eyes as he pumped  a pound of bullets into Bruce’s gut, face, neck, chest, shoulders, legs, knees, ankles, shins, crotch, arms, hands, forehead, solar plexus, and hips.  A small shower of blood, organs, and miscellaneous bits of random flesh decorated the far wall.

“Ow!” Bruce (somehow) said.  “All right, you’re on the list!”

With mutual grins of satisfaction, they all walked into the strip club, finding themselves in a large, poorly lit room with dozens of tables and chairs spread about.  On the stage danced border collies, sheep, hamsters, and goats.  The audience hooted as the animals danced.

“What kind of a strip club is this?!?” Katharine screeched incredulously.

“MY strip club,” a familiar, egotistical, assholic voice responded.  Everyone turned to see Brandon Schmidt leaning up against the wall.  “Greetings,” Brandon continued.  “What can I do for you today?”

“You earn money by letting people watch animals strip for them?!?” Kat asked, still flabbergasted (hehe, I wrote “flabbergasted”).

“Oh, definitely,” Brandon replied.  “We don’t show the eight-year-old boys until after 11:00 PM, and we don’t start tossing the babies into blenders until 2:00 AM.  I call that ‘very happy hour.’”

Kat sighed heavily.  “Why do I always end up in these stories?”

SPOOFE pushed Katharine aside, none-too-gently.  “Hey, Schmidt-head, can you help us find Warlord Spears’ campaign manager?”

“Oh, yeah mean Spamwise Orgee?” Brandon said.  “Sure, he’s right over there.”