A Bottle of Ketchup

[unscratchedfoot]

A Bottle of Ketchup

FBI Head Office, Washington DC

"What's this about?" asked a gaunt man with salt and pepper hair and a black suit.

"Rob, this was just automatically sent in from a listening post monitoring Sniffer Sierra 184." The agent rolled his chair back to allow the FBI Director a better look at the monitor.

On the screen was a copy of a hotmail electronic mail transfer with an address consisting of a jumble of letters and numbers.


"Dear Ali,

We are delighted to receive your request for membership in the honorable al-Quaida. Your residence status in the United States is of high value to us. Be aware that we are overwhelmed with applications from capable individuals such as yourself to join our organization, and therefore, we must endeavor to maintain a stiff degree of competition among our applicants to ensure quality staffing.

Please peruse the following list of possible qualifying steps you may select from to qualify. Achieving any one of these and supplying proof of which will guarantee you membership in the al-Quaida. Unfortunately due to both the large numbers of applicants and the continuing presence of the American dogs yapping at our heels at every step prevents us from supplying you with any support other than our prayers to Allah. Public libraries in the United States provide an vast array of books on each of these subjects which you should take advantage of to better your chances of successful admission.

Methods of qualification:
(1) Kill or maim at least 6 American citizens.
(2) Become a pilot in any major airline which regularly transports Americans.
(3) Obtain a position in any U.S. government ministry or military intelligence posting.
(4) Gather substantial insider information on either the American military or on any large American corporation.

Ali, you should also keep in mind that the snively FBI has their head office located in Washington where you currently reside. The FBI has tracked down and arrested a large number of our members living in America, and because of this, they are currently a priority target of ours. Any damage you can incur on the FBI will gain you a high posting with us instead of the usual entry level postion awarded to new members.

We wish you luck. You will need it.

Allahu Akbar

Deputy of al-Quaida, Group Balayin Dumna



Rob finished reading it and asked, "Has this mail been opened yet?"

"Yeah, but at an internet cafe here in Washington and the internet address was only used once."

"Does the cafe have cameras?"

"No."

"Well, it looks like we got nothing to follow up on yet. They always seem to be called Ali. I guess that's their version of Joe Smith. Go ahead and add it to the list of potential targets." Rob sighed, "Getting more and more of these all the time. Anyways, get back to tracking that biotechnology contract in Germany. The bidding's getting down to the wire and the White House is really pressuring me to get in a successful American bid."

"Right on it sir."

With that, Ali was put aside. But that would certainly not be the last the FBI would hear of him. Perhaps they would have learned more by going down to the panhandlers' area on Granville Street and reading the cardboard signs held up by the dirt ridden religious fanatics.

Impending doom is upon you.


On a subway in Washington D.C.

The rush hour subway was packed with tired people. Anacostia 12th grade high school student Sean Pooley swayed a bit and held onto a ring to keep his balance. In his other hand was a sports bag, heavily loaded.

Everyone was pretty quiet, biding their time until they could get free of the crowds and enjoy the predusk sunshine of the spring day. As usual everyone avoided making eye contact with each other while lost in their private thoughts of the day's happenings.

Then it happened.

The bag Sean was holding burst into life bouncing, wiggling and jerking about, like something living. Living in a society under the fear of terrorism, the crowd of passengers squealed, pushed and shoved backwards starting to go into a low-level panic.

Sean pounced on top of his sportsbag and wrestled about with it on the floor of the subway. The bag did its best to buck him off and rolled him over several times. Watching the contest between man and luggage, the passengers' panic gave way to curiosity and there was much speculation about what was in the youngster's bag.

"The silly little feller's gone and stuffed his dog into his bag. The poor creature." guessed an elderly woman.

A younger gal with a very pissed off look to her spoke up, "He's stolen a bear cub from the local zoo. Apparently it's the cool thing to do these days."

"Are you nuts? Get real." hissed another.

"I beg your pardon?" retorted the animal rights gal. "Haven't you see the news lately? Last week some high school brats lowered a cage with a fish in it to the bear site in the zoo and trapped a bear cub. They took the cub home like it was a common teddy bear. And a few days before that, some other kids stole a penguin."

A beefy blue collar worker put in his two bits, "Well there better not be a bear cub in that there bag or buddy'll be tussling with me next. Damn kids think its funny or something to steal animals."

The hotheaded roughneck may as well have saved his steam, for their guesses were no more accurate than a long drive made by Tiger Williams in a recent PGA tour. About to be unleashed was a tale of such unheardof absurdity that even the American government with all its electronic wizardry and think tanks had not the slightest chance of figuring out what was going to happen over the next couple of weeks.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Ah Scratch the legend! a most strange and yet intrigueing start Scratch, certainly has my interest

[SKILORD]

Interetng.

I'll have to see more.

[Paddy]

thanks

this should be good.

[unscratchedfoot]

While still being bounced about, Sean finally managed to get the zipper on his sports bag opened. Everyone in the subway car froze with suspence while Sean put his hand in. They all fully expected a big chomp and Sean's hand to be gobbled up by whatever type of animal it was in his bag.

Sean yanked out a wire with a cell phone attached to it and the convulsing bag stopped moving. He pushed a button on the phone and held it up to his ear. "Hello... Mike? Aw man, did you have to call me on the subway. Everyone's looking at me now and a big redneck's threatening to put the boots to me.

"Uh yeah sorry dude. I thought you were already home or something." said Mike.

"I had to go to a hardware shop after school to get some stuff. So what did you want?" asked Sean.

"Just wanted to ask you wassup?"

Having gone through such a struggle just for that, Sean could only shake his head. "We're meeting at my house because my dad's finally got the engine. You coming?"

"Oh good. Yeah I'll be over. See you in a bit."

"Ok bye." Sean clicked off the phone and slowly looked around at the crowd.

The angry redneck spoke up. "Son, you wanna explain exactly what you got in yer bag? You did a good job of freaking everyone out. I hope that makes you feel good."

"Look, I'm real sorry. It's the latest thing among high schools and universities now to see who can make the best cell phone vibrator. Ours is a paintcan shaker machine powered by a car battery. The phone gets clamped into the shaker." Sean opened the bag zipper all the way to let everyone see the contraption.

"What's a paintcan shaker?" asked the animal rights woman.

The redneck answered, "It shakes paint cans. You know that machine thingy in paint stores. When you buy a can of paint the clerk clamps it into the machine, flicks a switch and it gives the can the shaking of a lifetime. You with us now missy?"

The woman nodded slowly and in a putoff manner, "Uh huh."

There were mixed reactions among the passengers. "Well ain't that the dangest thing... What next will these crazy teenagers think of?... What the hell for?... Wow, you kids must be pretty smart to put that thing together... I see one of my kids with a piece of junk like that and he'll get a good whooping let me tell you... That's too cool..."

"Yeah, what the hell for?" asked the beefy redneck.

Sean explained, "There's a national competition coming up for all universities and high schools to participate in. Whoever can make the best cell phone vibrator will win scholarships and become famous too. This one is just a test unit. We're making a better one tonight. Anyways, this is my stop. Sorry about disturbing you all."

As Sean was going out the subway doors, there were some 'okays' and 'no problems' given among the crowd and even the redneck himself had calmed down enough to say 'good luck'.

By the time Sean got home, Joey, Jay, and Mike were already making themselves at home on the back patio. Joey Horvath, very tall, built like a bean pole, exceedingly hyper lad, was sprawled out on a lawn chair while holding a long piece of grass one end weighted with seeds from his mouth like a cigar. Joey's hair was always spiked up with gel and the tip of his pointy nose was permanently red gaining him the unflattering nickname of 'Joey the red beak geek' or just 'geek' for short. His red nose supported a pair of thin rimmed glasses which were routinely knocked flying everytime he got into a scuffle. A legendary goof off, there was never a dull moment with Joey around.

Jay Porter was a pretty normal guy, conservative, popular with his classmates and he generally tried to approach things in an intelligent manner unlike the spasmodic Joey.

Mike Weber was a hockey player with dark hair and a face like a soft potato who's first love in life was the weight gym. No one without a deathwish dared to say anything to him to piss him off because although he was a really easy going, nice guy, when angered he'd make Mike Tyson look like a meek little gerbil. Mike Weber's nickname was 'Pipes' referring to his big biceps, and behind his back and well out of hearing distance, his nickname changed to 'Cement Maker', a synonym to the construction vehicle with the big rotating bin of cement on its back: slow, strong and dim-witted.

Sean himself was an average joe, short with blond hair. Because he got along with everyone well and his house was downtown and not far from school, he was naturally the leader of the cell phone project. His dad, Mr. Pooley, owned an engineering firm and therefore offered Sean's group a lot of well-needed assistance with parts and know how.

"Yo mon, where're the goods you promised?" asked Joey.

"My dad'll be here anytime now. Let's just hang for a bit." answered Sean. "Speaking of goods, have I got something good for you guys. And they're hot. Just in today."

Sean took a handheld minicassette recorder from his jacket pocket and pressed play. Everyone huddled around Sean to hear the recording. From the speaker came sounds of background noise like people walking around and chatting. Then a melodious, yet slightly frustrated young gal's voice said, "Sean, would you please let me by. I'd really like to open my locker."

Sean pushed stop and then looked up to heaven with his arms held up in a pose of worship and ecstacy. "The voice of an angel. Did you hear that sweet sound? Koralee is such a baaaaaaaaaaaaabe!"

"What happened? Why'd she say that?" asked Jay.

"Yo, just play it again will ya." ordered Joey.

"I asked Sarb to stand with me infront of her locker door blocking it. We looked like we were just talking there by chance but the whole thing was a set-up to force her to talk to me so I could record her voice. Ingenious or what? Compared to Koralee's sweet voice, Celine Dion sounds like a horse being killed by hailstones."

"That's pretty smart alright." said Jay. "You ticked her off just to make her talk to you. Have you ever considered maybe starting a normal conversation with her? Say how the weather's getting nice out, or tell her she looks good in her new blouse or something?"

"No way, she'd never lower herself to talk to me. She's a goddess and I'm just an everyday schmuck." Sean sounded sad with his return to reality.

"Hey c'mon, you're cool. You know, I do happen to have Koralee's cell phone number." Jay made a cocky expression.

"No way man! You're joking! Why do you got it? I thought Heather was your woman. Why didn't you tell me this before?" Sean was going into a panic.

"We're just friends. I can give you her number but only if you promise not to call her."

"What!?!"

"Take it easy buddy. You can add it to your phone's memory and then I'll give her your number and ask her to call you. That way you don't look so desperate and I can butter you up a bit in the process." Jay's approach to the problem was in his typically conservative, step-by-step fashion. While all this was going on, there was the sound of a pickup truck stopping in the driveway out front of the house. The whole while, Mike just sat in his chair staring up into the blue sky daydreaming about how much he could benchpress.

Sean paced back and forth across the patio and his eyes were wide with the suddenness of this new information. "I've got to calm down... get my heartbeat down to normal level again. Yes... alright. I'll go with your idea since you're the man with the goods here and you seem to know what you're doing."

"Here it is." Jay held out his own cell phone with Koralee's name and number on the display. "Just make real damn sure you answer when she calls."

"I'd rather die than miss her call." Sean whipped out his phone and entered the sacred information.

"Hey boys, how y'all doin?" Mr. Pooley came clomping onto the patio in his work boots. The forever cheerful man was one of the few white men lucky enough to have a full sized afro, a blond one at that. The huge bushel of hair sitting atop his head gave him the appearance of a bonzai tree badly overdue for a clipping.

"Hey Mr. Pooley, how the hell are ya man? Shoot any slamdunks today?" Joey liked to ask him questions about basketball, indirectly referring to his afro even though Mr. Pooley had never really played the game.

"Hi Joey, good to see you too."

"Say Mr. Pooley, could you stand just a little to your left... a little more please. Thank you." said Joey.

"Um okay, may I ask why?"

"The predinner sun is coming just over your neighbor's house and is making me squint. Your afro makes a good canopy to shade me with." Joey ended with a wink.

Mr. Pooley chuckled. "I'm glad I can help. So anyways everyone, I got your souped up 555 engine in the back of my pickup and my mechanics even rigged it up on a heavy duty cart along with all the supporting equipment like battery, radiator, starter, gas tank etc. They also tweaked the engine in every aspect to provide 950 horsepower when flat out. All you have to do is attach the power adapter to your paintcan shaker and disable the electrical engine in the unit. This'll give you a good chance at winning that contest. The engine alone cost 16 grand so don't wreck it. My company will have marketing benefits from sponsoring you so we don't mind the cost as long as you keep it in one piece. And make sure you strap that cell phone into the paintcan shaker real good or it'll go flying for several blocks and take somebody out."

"What about the mufflers?" asked Sean.

"Yep, we got those crome muscle car mufflers put on for you to make one helluva racket. We've got the gas input set to just a little under half right now and when you go in the contest we can adjust it to full power. The 4 barrel won't quite kick in at this setting. We're concerned the sound might break windows if we set it too high but in the contest that'll help give you a better impression."

"Wow, I didn't know you were such a stallion Mr. Pooley." teased Joey with a straight face.

"Thanks Joey. Let me know if you need any help attaching it. It's not that easy."

"I think we can handle it." said Joey. "After all, we do have the Cement Maker advantage."

Joey had said the dreaded words within hearing distance of Pipes. It seemed like time itself froze. No one spoke or twitched a muscle. Nobody's eyes even moved. Joey had hoped that with Mike busy spaced out in his own world of bodybuilding that he wouldn't hear the magic words being slipped into the conversation.

He noticed. Mike's head swung around in a casual motion to look in Joey's direction. After another breathless moment, Joey sprang straight up off the lawn chair into the air jackrabbit style and tore off down the patio stairs with an enraged Mike right behind him. The two of them sprinted down to the backyard lawn to conduct their chase.

"The competition is on Saturday." Said Mr. Pooley to Sean and Jay. "We're exceptionally lucky that its being held here in town so we don't need to move this project of yours too far."

There was a big thud just beyond the patio down below. This was followed by the sounds of a hard fought struggle. Then a pair of glasses game flying up above the patio wall and dropped back down again. Mr. Pooley had a look over the edge of the patio and said with a chuckle, "It looks like Joey's up to his usual razmataz."

From the sounds of it Joey was getting a good drubbing. "Aaaaaaaah!! I'll kill you! Stop! Okay, I give up! I'll only call you Pipes from now on." Thump! "Ouch! Alright then, Mike the Nice Guy. How about that?"

With that, Joey's screams died down. The two of them came back up the patio stairs. Mike was breathing hard and was rubbing his arm where Joey had bitten him. Joey's previously spiked hair was now a rat's nest and his shirt was covered in grass stains on one side. He was cleaning his glasses using a clean part of his shirt.

"Now that the chase is over, it's time to prepare the beast." said Sean.

[unscratchedfoot]

I added some more material. I wanted to include the contest itself in this episode but that part's not ready yet.

[Nylan-Nolan]

Good work. Looks like an excerpt from a 500 page novel. I look forward to the next installment.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Nice work Scratch

keep the goods coming

[unscratchedfoot]

It wasn't until the next afternoon that the new cell phone vibrator was ready and christened with the name, 'Super Big Wallop'. With it in the middle of the back yard on the grass, they called the phone and unleashed the terrific power of the 555 engine which channeled its strength through a crankshaft which in turn sent the paintcan shaker with the cell phone strapped to it into a frenzy.

Thanks to the attached chrome mufflers, the unit made a phenominal amount of noise. A nasty looking middle aged woman came out onto the back porch of a neighboring house with her hands over her ears. As soon as she opened her door, her dog high tailed it into the house hoping to escape the cacophony. The woman looked to be shouting in a most hostile manner but the boys couldn't hear a word of it. It probably wasn't too interesting so they didn't mind at all. Joey held up 2 middle fingers and jerked his torso back and forth to complete the crude gesture to rile her up even more.

With the Super Big Wallop set at only half power, no windows broke but the patio door started moving a little from the tremendous noise so Sean pulled the wire of the cell phone to free it from the shaker and answered it to shut off the engine.

The goods had checked out perfectly.



Robert F. Kennedy Memorial Stadium, Washington DC

"Hello everyone and welcome to RFK Memorial Stadium, home of the Washington Redskins. Today as you all know, we are here to witness the advancement of modern engineering brought to us by the young minds of our universities and high schools."

The stadium was jam packed with spectators and the grounds of the stadium had the equipment for all the projects spaced out and set up in advance. Some of the stuff laid out was truly weird considering the nature of the event: a glass maze suspended up in the air by metallic pipes with a tied-up cat underneath, a huge pile of logs in a bundle all smooth and varnished like those used in building log cabins, a large treadmill with a cage next to it, and various other oddities.

The commentator continued his introduction, booming through the stadium speakers. "So that brings us to: why are we here today? Have you ever taken your cell phone out of your pocket to see a list of calls you missed just because you didn't notice it vibrating? What's worse is when those missed calls end up in angry people suspicious of why you didn't answer. Were you with another woman? Too good to talk to me huh? Etc etc. Well kiss that problem goodbye because there's bound to be an invention here today to make sure you can't possibly miss that vibration again."

"This contest will have two winners: one for the most powerfully vibrating phone and a second one for the most creative way of producing that vibration. Keep in mind that we will be considering other issues such as how environmentally friendly the project is as well as social acceptability. The only rules are that the projects be self-powered and the phone must be answered and the receiver speak with me. In other words, the phone must not be destroyed by the vibration."

Then the commentator's voice changed to sound just like the announcer of a boxing fight. "First up we the Arizonaaaaaaaaaaa Wiggleeeeeer!" The stadium spotlight focussed on some people who were leading a horse out the big treadmill, same as the running machines in gyms except bigger. A wire went from the treadmill to an after hours shopmade vibrator machine with a cell phone in it. One of the staff carefully put a fat copperhead rattlesnake into the cage behind and to the side of the treadmill. When the snake was in the cage, the expert handler tied a little leather leash around the snake's neck and then closed the cage door.

Once the horse was standing on the treadmill, the commentator phoned the cell phone. The display on the phone lit up and the door on the snake's cage was electronically opened up. The snake coiled up with its tail end sticking up and started the 'tick tick' sound of its rattler. The horse nehhed and went into panic trying to run away from the snake. In doing so, all the horse managed to do was run on the spot and generate electricity through the treadmill which in turn powered the vibrator machine. The leash on the snake prevented it from actually striking out at the horse.

Once a member of the Arizona Wiggler staff answered the phone, the cage door to the snake closed and some people comforted the poor horse to calm him down.

"Wow that was a grand display of creativity!!" boomed the commentator. "I sure wouldn't want that unit in my pants pocket though, hehehe. The project is just a tad bit risky and we'll need to hear from the judges if it will be allowed... oh, we have a thumbs up on it. Yes! The judges have okayed this project. Excellent work people. This will definitely earn top marks for creativity. And on to our next one which is simply called 'The Rower'."

The spotlight went to an exercise rowing machine which was set up to power another vibrator machine with a cell phone in it. It was a mechanical design rather than the previous electrical generator used by the Arizona project. Next to the rowing machine was a stereo system. The commentator called the cell phone and immediately a guy and girl came running towards the rowing machine. The guy was dressed only in a pair of shorts and the gal was wearing a skimpy leather outfit, black boots and was holding a whip in her hand. The guy jumped on the rower and rowed for dear life while the woman cracked her whip at him and the cell phone vibrator came to life. The stereo pounded out a rap piece with an heavily repeating line of 'Row b*tch row!' Another similarly clad woman came out and answered the phone.

"Oh my!! Will you look at that! What a way to make a phone vibrate! Thank you rowing team."

Sean and his mates were sitting in the lower bleachers waiting for their turn. Joey was forever trying to find the optimal moment to call Mike by his infamous nickname and get away with it. He had yet to succeed but this was a golden opportunity according to Joey because he figured the presence of the crowd may dissuade Mike from responding in his usual violent way.

Joey turned to Mike and said, "I bet you'd like to be that guy on the rower machine. Ain't that right Cement Maker?" Mike looked back and the two of them sat there frozen and expressionless for a moment just staring at each other. Then there was an explosive flurry of arm movements, slapping, jabbing and blocking, ending up with Mike holding Joey in a headlock and rubbing his knuckles up and down the top of Joey's head wrecking his spikey hairdo yet again and causing a considerable amount of discomfort to complete the package.

"And now for 'The Lumberjack Jacks' performance." said the commentator.

The spotlight lit up the big bundle of logs being held by bands of metal going around them. The bundle was sitting a couple of metres off the ground on top of a ramp. At the bottom of the ramp was what looked like a soccer ball and to the side stood 2 lumberjacks all decked out in plaid shirts and worn out jeans. One of the lumberjacks was holding a carjack, the crank things you use for holding up cars while you change a tire. Behind the lumberjacks stood a paramedic dressed in white and holding a first aid kit in one hand and a splint in the other.

With this odd set up in place, the commentator called the cell phone which was apparently inside the rubber ball thing. The bands on the bundle of logs snapped open and the logs thundered down the ramp and rolled over the rubber ball. Once the logs had stopped moving, the lumberjacks ran out and the one with the carjack started to crank up the logs which were on top of the rubber ball. After a bit of work, he grunted and the other lumberjack reached between the logs to try to get the phone. Just as he did that, the logs shifted and did their best to crush the man's arm.

"Agah! My arm! It's being crushed! Medic please!" The medic ran out to help the stricken lumberjack while the other man went back to work raising up the logs with the carjack. After a struggle, the cell phone was finally ejected from the soccer ball and answered according to the rules.

The commentator was delighted. "Now that is definitely a sure way to get someone's attention when a phone rings. It's a good thing mobility and convenience are not factors in this contest, not to mention safety, hehehe. Thanks for that good show. For your sake, I hope you don't get many calls. And now for 'The Electric Piglet' project."

With the spotlight on the glass maze suspended up in the air, the commentator called and a door at the end of the maze rose up to allow access to a tube hanging by a string with a piece of cheese in the middle of it. A hungry rat in the maze dashed about trying to get to the cheese and once he made it into the tube it tipped over from his weight and he freefell down onto a little teeter totter. The rat hit the upended side of the teeter which upset a glass of water on the other end. The water poured down ontop of a cat which had its tail tied to a ring-shaped switch of some sort. Meow!! The freaked out cat tried to run away which pulled the ring switch connecting an electrical circuit. The current ran through a wire to a piglet in a pen with a band of velcro around his porky middle. Stuck on the velcro was the cell phone, being vibrated by the now electrified piglet. A team member wearing rubber gloves ran into the pen, and to the relief of the poor piglet, successfully answered the phone.

"Uh oh! Now that's gonna cause a stir!" warned the commentator while the crowd went wild booing. "Let's see what are judges have to say about this. I really doubt this is going to be allowed as we must take care not to upset any animal rights groups like the SPCA. Right, there it is. The judges have disqualified this entry due to cruelty to animals. Okay then, on to the power projects. Next up is the Suuuupeeer Biiiiiiig Wallooop!"

Sean and his team all put on earmuffs and went out to their treasure. It was already to go so the commentator went ahead and called their phone. The 555 engine roared to life and the fantastic rumbling sound cut short any and all conversations occuring throughout the stadium at the time. Actually just about everyone watching had their hands over their ears by the time the 4 barrell of the flat out 950 horsepower engine came to life. The noise, simply put, was gigantic. The glass maze up in the air shattered and rained down particles, along with numerous spectacles among the spectators, windows and what not glass things. Mr. Pooley had wisely advised Joey not to wear his glasses during the performance and in a rare display of obedience, Joey actually took the advise.

The judges had no problem in deciding which project was the most powerful, especially when the pencils on their table skittered around and the resonating of the engine even made their chairs beneath them dance a little. There were many more projects in the power category but none even came close to making the impression that the Super Big Wallop did. The boys had won both fame and scholarships to university. The 6 o'clock news that evening had them on first as the biggest news of the day, a nice break from the usual terror bombing news which had become a daily bore.

[Nylan-Nolan]

good.

Very good.

Keep it up!

[SKILORD]

Interesting.

I want to see more.

[unscratchedfoot]

The Eatery


Ali was nervous. He'd never worked as a waiter before and wasn't used to the high pace environment. But he must get used to it if he was going to last long enough to form an effective plot.

The Eatery was an odd combination of a well-kept old fashioned hamburger joint coupled with an upscale catering service which exclusively provided food service to the FBI Head Office. This last point made it an ideal place for Ali to work as a waiter to both pay his rent and provide an inlet to his prime target.

Today was Ali's first day on the job and he was being taught the ropes of working in the burger shop by a young college girl named Sally who was about the same age as Ali, maybe 19 or 20. Sally was a high energy girl with two bouncy blond ponytails and set about her task of teaching Ali with moderate enthusiasm. Ali could tell she was more interested in collecting her tips than getting him properly trained, but he didn't mind too much. There could not be a more optimal place for him to be working.

"... and over there are the ketchup bottles. Make sure there are always one for each table than the bottles are at least half full. After that we throw them out." Sally talked fast.

Ali came from a poor country and didn't like hearing about food being thrown away. "Why not just pour half-empty ones into other half-empty ones and make them into full bottles again?"

"No because if you do that the bottle will explode."

...explode...

"Explode? Why?"

Sally sounded exasperated. "Don't you learn this in arab schools? When you mix newer and older ketchup together it expands or makes gas or something and will explode the bottle. Actually I'm not sure why but I do know it will happen."

Ali had just heard the sweetest word he'd ever been told. Explode He grabbed Sally and gave her a big hug and was almost about to kiss her cheek when she shoved him away.

"Get away from me you pervert! I'll call the cops if you do that again." Some of the customers were looking. Sally obviously wasn't too fond of showing affection.

"I'm so sorry. It's just how we arabs demonstrate our friendship." Ali tried to explain.

Sally rolled her eyes and looked miffed. "Well we don't do that in America okay? Just keep away from me and don't you dare touch me."

Sally's outburst did little to affect Ali's inner glow. He could barely keep himself from skipping around the restaurant and singing out his glee. In his mind he could already see the FBI building disentegrating in a beautiful monolithic, reddy-orange fireball rising up into the sky to form a delicious looking mushroom cloud over Washington. The mushroom would be aired on American T.V. thousands of times - a lesson in modern jihad retaliation. It would be reckoning by tomato.

Ali did his best the first day which was quite stressful but when it came time to clean up after closing, he gladly went about collecting all the ketchup bottles off the tables. He selected two bottles, one about one-third full and another half-full, and slipped them inside his vest and scampered off to the staff locker room. He locked the bottles safely inside his personal locker. He was lucky to have made it unseen considering the ninjastyle poses and bobbing and weaving motion would surely have made anyone suspicious of him.


The next day was catering service training. Ali's job was to roll the tables decked out with food on them into a van, drive them to the FBI building and then cart the tables up the elevator to the meeting room on the top floor. Normally, the FBI ordered luncheon meeting spreads and today there was one such meeting being supplied by The Eatery.

Ali wasted no time. On his breaktime when the cooks weren't looking, he stole a turkey baster which is basically a big rubber injector-type thingy used in western cooking to suck up turkey butter and fat and then release it ontop of turkey to moisten it. He poured the contents of one bottle into the end of the baster and put the baster and the other bottle into a take-out bag.

Once the two tables with food were all loaded up, Ali brought along his takeout baggy and joined another waiter in the van to deliver the food. Everything was going perfectly according to plan. Everyone was too busy to bother asking him why he was carrying a takeout bag with him. He had to. The catering service didn't use ketchup bottles because they weren't classy enough to fit in with the luxurious spread.

They drove to the FBI and went in the big, old, dark brown brick building which stank of cigarettes and staleness. Ali was surprised that such a feared organization had a messed up old place to work in. Inside the building was poorly lit with yellowish lights and there was a fog in the air from the various types of smoking instruments. Haggard old men in wrinkly suits worked at computers stained with coffee and covered in donut crumbs. It was like a scene from a typical T.V. cop show.

The top floor was marginally nicer and they wheeled in the tables draped with impeccable white linen and decked with platefuls of yummy sandwiches, cheeses, sausages, vegetables and fruit along with many kinds of drinks, a sumptous feed indeed. Once everything was in place and his coworker was speaking with an FBI agent, Ali took the baster and squirted the ketchup into the bottle. He almost dropped the items in his panic but did get it done and pushed the plastic lid onto the bottle and placed it on the table next to the sandwiches.

Now for the scary part: getting out of the building before the bottle exploded. Ali trotted up to his coworker and gave him a slightly too hard pat on the back saying, "It's all done. Shall we leave now?"

The coworker gave Ali quite an annoyed look and then continued his chat with the FBI staff. Ali didn't wait around and made his way outside and ran full-speed across the street and behind a big metal garbage bin. He crouched down, squeezed his eyes shut and put his fingers in his ears, hoping not to be killed in the deadly blast.

He waited.

And he waited.

And he waited some more.

Then a horn tooted so Ali looked out from around the bin to see his coworked in the van looking all impatient.

They went to back to The Eatery but Ali was puzzled. Why hadn't the bottle blown the FBI skyhigh? For the rest of the workday he kept his ears wide open for a the sound of a boom echoing across the city but none came at all.

He was sad and went home that night getting more depressed with each step. In his apartment, he plonked down on the tired old sofa he had found left for disposal and turned on the midnight news still with a faint hope that there would be an announcement of how a bottle of ketchup had dealt supreme justice to the FBI.

A fancy looking woman was talking, "Hello everyone and welcome to NBC nightly news. In breaking news, just days after the Super Big Wallop won the national cell phone vibrator competition, Motorola has announced plans to develop its own Super Big Wallop and have even given it the same name as the students' project. Pooley Engineering officials have been questioned about how they will repond to this seemingly blatant act of technological theft and they said no legal action will be taken. Apparently the youngsters neglected to patent their vibrator which could mean Motorola will be the real winners from this amazing scientific breakthrough. Already, Motorola has received a number of orders for the high powered cell phone vibrator from wealthy individuals as well as the FBI."

The picture changed to the meeting room on the top floor of the FBI Head Office. Ali jumped right off the sofa to infront of the T.V. at the sight of his ketchup bottle on the luncheon table which had many business people sitting around it.

The announcer continued, "FBI directors met with a Motorola sales team to discuss anti-terrorism applications of the Super Big Wallop and..."

Pop!

Slight pause and "... made a contract for the sale of three wallopers, if you will, to be delivered at an unspecified date."

Ali sunk to the floor. A few of the people sitting at the lunch table turned to look at the ketchup bottle when the lid popped off, but that was all. No big fireball and no mushroom cloud. Talk about weak. Ali felt betrayed by Sally who had promised him an 'explosion'. The more he thought about it the more angry and depressed he got. How was he ever going to get ingredients for a bomb now?

Then out of the gloom it came... the coolest idea he'd ever had. Yes. Yes! Yes!!! It was there all along. The answer he'd been seeking presented to him on a hamburger platter by a simple bottle of ketchup. Suddenly Ali had a new respect for the sweet tomatoey sauce. Never again would he put too much of it on his plate when eating fries which was an appalling waste of the precious condiment.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

Now thats abstract!

Is there more to come in this Scratch, is the bomb the obesity crisis caused by hamburgers, or are you cooking up some mad contraption involving the ketchup and one of motorola's new vibrating phones ?

How do you manage to come up with this stuff ? you must have a very imaginative mind

[Nylan-Nolan]

Now I know why it's called a bottle of Ketchup. Good stuff.

[SKILORD]

Very nice.

[unscratchedfoot]

Strategy Meeting at Pooley's Patio


There was a lot of unhappiness happening in the Pooley camp. Sean and Jay discussed possible responses to Motorola's plan to build Super Big Wallopers. Joey was going back and forth in the back of the patio doing some kind of strange aboriginal war dance while chanting incantations of death. Mike was satisfied with just flexing his biceps and thinking about his next workout.

The door to the patio opened and out came Mr. Pooley, his canopy barely clearing the door jam. Even in this situation he was as happy as ever. "Cheer up boys! I brought good news. We got a new ally in our war against corporate corruption."

Ali stood beside Mr. Pooley who put his arm around the arab. Joey immediately went down on his knees and did an exaggerated version of a muslim praying to Mecca. Mr. Pooley introduced him. "What we got here is a genuine al-Quaida terrorist named Ali. He says he's an expert in bombing, biological warfare, assassination and snake charming. Normally I would be trampling his likes under my work boots..." Pooley paused to wink at Ali, "... but in this case he makes an invaluable partner in our revenge against Motorola and the FBI."

"Woohoo! Yeah!" called out Sean. Jay looked a bit concerned and Mike was as dopey as ever.

"Yo! Where's the towel?" asked Joey.

Ali answered, "Few muslims actually wear turbans. You might actually look good in one yourself."

"Okay, but I'm warning you. Don't you ever hijack a plane that I'm on or I'll kung fu your ass but good." Joey waved a finger back and forth in Ali's face. Ali managed a nervous laugh and agreed to Joey's rule.

"I'd say it's time we cooked up a plan to punish those corporate raiders. If you smart fellers can design one of the greatest inventions in decades, I'm sure you can figure out how to do this just as easily." said Mr. Pooley.



On the Way to the FBI


Ali was lucky he got to drive the food van this time. His partner in delivering the luncheon spread to the FBI was Sally. She had not a clue of what was coming. At least not until Ali took a turn into a shady looking alley behind an old hockey arena.

"Hey! Where are you going? I'll tell the boss if you screw around at all!" threatened Sally in a nasty tone.

"Relax, relax. This is shortcut I want to teach you."

"No way! Get back on the street! I'll tell the boss!"

Ali stopped halfway down. Suddenly the door on Sally's side was cranked open and Sally looked around just in time to be grabbed and headbutted in a most brutal manner.

Crack! Mike 'Pipes' Weber tossed her out onto the pavement with the same amount of care one would give to a smelly bag of garbage. Kalump!

Then the whole Pooley team went to work doing their individual parts previously planned out. From the back of Mr. Pooley's pickup, 2 tables roughly the same size as The Eatery catering tables were substituted and loaded up with the linen and food from the original tables. They wheeled the tables from the pickup bed directly into the back of the van with considerable difficulty owing to the fantastic weight of the Super Big Wallop loaded in parts underneath the linen on a hidden shelf.

That done, it was agreed that Ali, Sean and Mike would be the ones to deliver it. It was unlikely the FBI would notice one extra delivery member, especially since Mike was dressed in a discarded uniform Ali had found in The Eatery and Sean put on Sally's uniform. Since she was out cold, she didn't protest at all to the change of wear.

Everything went right according to plan, all the way to the top of the FBI Head Office. On the way up the elevator, Mike's phone had rung and seeing the name on the display, "Geek", Mike elected not to answer reckoning Joey was just calling again to call him a Cement Maker.

When they arrived in the meeting room they put the tables side by side to form a square and then pulled on handles underneath the tables to lower the Super Big Wallop onto the floor. Then they attached the parts together just like they had practiced the night before time after time to ensure fluidity. All the while, the operation was keep hidden under the linen with the luncheon food on top as camouflage.

"Who's phone we gonna use?" asked Ali.

"Use Sean's. Joey might call me again to be an idiot and set it off too early." cautioned Mike.

They hooked up Sean's phone and just as they finished, they had a shock. Sean's phone display lit up with the name 'Koralee' on it! Instantly intoxicated with longing, Sean lunged for the phone before it could even start the vibrater.

"Noooo!" Ali and Mike grabbed Sean away from the phone and pulled him out from under the linen just as the 555 engine roared to life. "Get out! Run for your lives!" yelled Ali who probably wasn't heard above the phenominal vibes put out by the engine.

They went for the stairs instead of the elevator because the latter would be automatically shut down once the Super Big Walloper started to shake the building like an earthquake. Even while running full out double stepping the stairs, they could still hear the 4 barrels kick in and the building start to sway the little the brittle brick structure was capable of. They could hear cracking and snapping sounds all around them and parts of the staircase were starting to fall away.

It was a miracle they made it to the bottom before the cement stairs fell apart completely. Ali was infront and just as planned, he placed a transparent plastic rod with 10 cm supports on each end infront of a door jam to catch anyone trying to escape from the building. Unfortunately in his panic to escape, Mike was the first victim of the trip rod. His soft potato face whapped onto the cement floor and just as he made it back onto his knees, Sean landed on Mike's back after leaping over the trip rod, slamming Mike back into the cement.

Kathud!

Again Mike stood up just as two FBI cronies came tripping over the rod and fell at his feet. With his adrenaline all fired up, Pipes grabbed the two cronies, cracked their heads together and threw them back into the building.

Sean, Ali and Mike sprinted towards the delivery van to escape the rubble of the now collapsing building. The lower half of the shortening building was a cloud of dust and the sound of it breaking up was almost dreadful enough to equal the ferocious noise from the Super Big Wallop in the meeting room still waiting for someone to answer Koralee's call.

Then the Super Big Wallop stopped. Koralee had hung up. But she had just unwittingly accounted for the utter destruction of the FBI Head Office. Only a few of the FBI staff on the first floor had escaped the destruction. The original plan was for the Pooley team to call Sean's phone once the Motorola/FBI meeting was in full swing to ensure proper elimination of both parties, but luckily the Motorola sales team were already in the building in a waiting area at the time of the early collapse.


Inevitably, the Super Big Wallop was found among the rubble by investigators and the Pooley team with their ally Ali were of course prime suspects. Immediately after the building's destruction, Mr. Pooley realized there was no way to avoid being charged with terrorism given the heap of evidence left, so he had all of them shipped out of the country to some Carribean island. But which one, only they know, for they left no indication at all in their haste to depart. Unfortunately for Koralee, her name and number were confirmed in the memory of the salvaged cell phone as the one who set off the Super Big Wallop so she was charged as a co-conspiracer and sentenced to a minimum jail term of 136 years as a convicted terrorist aiding the al-Quaida in conducting mass murder against citizens of the United States. The innocent high school girl was sentenced an additional 85 life terms to be served concurrently for the complete annihilation of the FBI Headquarters personnel, eight members of a Motorola sales team, and Senator John Kerry with four other Congress members who happened to be in the building at the time discussing national security issues. That was the last Sean ever heard of her though its quite possible she was aquitted on all charges in an appeal with a reasonable jury.

Needless to say, Koralee did not warm up to Sean too well after all this. A sad ending to be sure, but not everyone thought so. Joey spent each night dancing and singing to reggae tunes as a band member at beachfront nightclubs, while not a day passed that Sean, who became a surfing instructor, did not relent in his quest to find 'the next Koralee'. Mike, not surprisingly, opened a weight gym called 'Pipes Gym'. Jay got involved in the hotel business and Mr. Pooley invested in a shrimp company. Ali went back to Afganistan and became a high-ranking member of the al-Quaida and a close friend of Osama bin Laden. A few years later Ali was killed in a shoot-out with American special forces.

Ali spent a few weeks chilling with Sean's group on the tropical island they had fled to before flying to Afganistan. Joey took advantage of this time to do his own part in fighting terrorism, despite himself having been branded a terrorist by the American authorities. Joey approached Ali one afternoon with a chocolate bar and said, "Hey Ali buddy, I'll give you this chocolate bar if you do me a favor."

Ali looked a bit skeptical and asked, "That depends on what you want me to do."

"Yeah man, just go up to Mike and tell him we're really thankful that he's part of the team and we could never have done it without the Cement Maker."

"Cement Maker?" asked Ali.

"Aw don't worry. It's an old nickname Mike's had since kindergarten. He likes it." assured Joey, trying hard not to giggle thinking about the punishment Mike would inflict on the hapless arab.

Ali agreed to Joey's terms and sought out Mike to relay the message and found him looking at some chickens being sold in the outdoor market. "Mike, I got a message to tell you."

"Huh? What?" asked Mike.

"Joey says to thank you for being part of the team and that we never could've done it without the Cement Maker." said Ali.

"Joey said that huh?" Mike smacked a fist into his palm and marched off saying, "Looks like its time to take out the trash again. Thanks Ali."

And a good time was had by all on that sunny tropical island where it was forever warm and a reggae party was held every night.


The End

[Nylan-Nolan]

Good job.

I think I know why John Kerry died.

[SKILORD]

Not bad at all, good job scratch.

[ChrisiusMaximus]

[Paddy]

hmmm.... and I just had sausage sandwiches with tomatoe sauce

[forgorin]

HE HE HE