BEN WA RAMBO'S ON

Or,

HAMMER AND SICKO

Ben Wa and his stalwart crew were cruising the Mekong Delta in a dragon prowed black ship. Two bloodshot eyes were painted on the front, flanking Ben Wa's characteristic figurehead, which, by now, should require no further description. The Inscrutable Oriental, wearing a sailor suit, was in foul spirits, and was, if the truth be known, actually one of them himself, as well. He had sent Cpl. Punishment and Peter B. Lengthy out to Saigon and the Golden Triangle with a wad of greenbacks and instructions to cop him some junk and a few new rigs.

He was now sailing on the proceeds of this ill-starred fiasco, looking with evident distaste at a pile of gaudily tie-dyed sails. He glared at his well intentioned but not-too-bright hench persons. A stream of daggers erupted from his eyes and slammed into the junk's rather junky walls with a resounding series of "thunks". Cpl. Punishment and Peter B. Lengthy scurried madly for cover, as the daggers changed into over ripe mackerals, fireballs, and, finally, natch, a shower of large, red, dildos.

Determined to make the best of a rapidly worsening situation, Ben Wa decides, as he usually does, that someone must 'eat the weenie.' "We laid virrage dope glowers. They get offed. We get off. Most applopliate. Dope pederers get shot up by junk."

Ben Wa, inspired by war movies, powerful drugs, and general derangement, leaps up, screaming "Bad-O Cly! Lite on. Bad-O Cly!" His deck ape outfit suddenly melts into a whirling cloud of mist around him, glowing in purples, reds, and blues. The cloud shrinks and coalesces into a Renaisance Era General Staff Officer's uniform, with shoulder epaulets, a plumed hat, and a large, gleaming saber.