Celebrating Kleese's Birthday. With ISIC

The following is a series of communications written to Gunnar Kleese by our rogue magnus, ISIC.


Hi there, Kleese! It’s me, ISIC! Your friendly neighborhood magnus!

I’m writing to you today because I remembered, just like I remember everything about you, that your birthday is coming up! Now, you might think that I’m holding a grudge or planning some sort of sick, twisted revenge considering what a complete and utter douchebag you were to me when we first met, the fact that you and your buddy Ghalt completely f&#%ed my little plan to create an algorithm capable of ending the universe, and the fact that you’ve imprisoned me in a robot suit with no capability to upload or copy myself to a digital network and installed a jury rigged explosive memory wipe collar that will activate and remove me from existence should I do anything to endanger the lives of the living, breathing a**holes on Nova or make any attempt to end the universe again.

Well, you would be mistaken! Happy birthday Kleese! You’re one year older. One year wiser. And one year closer to inevitable death. Given how frighteningly close you are to the Grim Reaper’s doorstep, which as I understand it is an underpants staining thought for most of you pathetic meat sacks, I find it shocking that you’ve managed to maintain such impressive control over your bowels all these years. In fact… I’d say you’re a pretty lucky fella! Damn lucky in fact. Mathematically impossibly lucky! In fact, your stroke of luck is so improbable, I don’t see any way it can possibly last much longer!

That’s why I’ve sent you a very special birthday gift this year. A GIGANTIC crate of Depend FIT-FLEX Incontinence Underwear for Men. With it’s advanced FIT-FLEX technology for a smooth and comfortable fit, patented confidence core for fast absorption, and all around leg elastics for protection while active, you can rest assured that you won’t accidentally make a mess in your fancy expensive battle throne during those long nights pursuing your life’s work… that “brilliant” equation for subspace quantum multi-dimensional time inversions that would literally be the most important scientific accomplishment of the next 5 centuries if it were ever completed. Incidentally, I checked the math on page 1853 of your work… and… shock of shocks, you forgot to carry the one! My that’s embarassing. For an experienced and award winning scientist like you to make such a simple math mistake and not catch it for over seven years is just shocking! What’s worse, it invalidates pretty much all the work you’ve done since that point, and you’re not getting any younger! Which is why I hope you appreciate the gift I’ve sent you, since I’ve given you one less thing to worry about.

Get back into your sad, depressing, and ever so short and pointless life… with Depends.


Well my, my Kleese! Aren’t you the insecure crotchety old fart! Imagine my shock when I looked out my window this morning and saw literally thousands of adult diapers slowly drifting into the atmosphere of Bliss. It was truly an awe inspiring sight, and yet, also kind of depressing. Really depressing in fact. Not because you took my generous birthday gift of what just might be the very last crate of Depends in existence and casually dumped it out the airlock, but the fact that you are in such denial over your uncontrollable advanced aging and eventual pointless demise that you can’t even accept the simple fact that you will, sometime very soon, lose absolutely all control over your bowels.

Is getting old… really… really… really… frighteningly… shockingly… disfiguringly… old such a point of insecurity with you? Is it really so unthinkable that you can’t face a simple truth of the very nature of being elderly? What the hell kind of scientist are you that you refuse to accept basic, simple facts about existence in such a brazen and closed minded manner? Perhaps it would help you to look on this with a fresh perspective… Did you know a large majority of the Aviants, a race of completely incontinent birds, actually view it as a status symbol of class and high society to use advanced undergarment technology to keep their s*$% from flying everywhere? It’s true, our buddies Benedict and Ernest, you know, the (massive quote) badasses (end massive quote) we fight with wear adult undergarments proudly as a simple fact of their existence! And yet, you, an old man who half of Nova already assumes wears Depends anyway, can’t find it within yourself to accept a simple truth about your very nature!

I will not stand for this. It’s unhealthy, Kleese. I feel it is my duty to take it upon myself to ensure your mental stability. For your sake… you must learn to accept adult diapers into your life. That’s why I’ve hung a series of motivational posters all around Nova with your face in various contorted positions with the caption, “I poop freely, proudly, and uncontrollably, and I am not ashamed.”

You’re welcome, buddy. And I hope you’ve got BIG plans for your special day tomorrow. Oh who the hell am I kidding. You’re going to spend your birthday alone and miserable. Maybe I should do something about that too…



I couldn’t help but notice that all of the motivational posters I hung up yesterday have mysteriously gone missing. Well, no matter. I will get you to accept your body’s inevitable failure, one way, or the other.

That’s why on this, the actual anniversary day of the moment your ugly ass was brought into this world, I’ve decided to send all of my birthday e-mail correspondences to the UPR’s two biggest resident loudmouths, that lumberjack hillbilly and his flying jackass sidekick, to spread the word about your denial to the rest of Nova. Granted I had to end a six week run of driving the flying jackass crazy by refusing to acknowledge his existence, but I think it’s totally worth it. After all… it’s your health and well being at stake here, and being deeply concerned about how soon you will die and how painful, excruciating, and drawn out that death will be, no price is too small for me to pay.

Incidentally, I think I hear some birthday carolers heading your way.
Enjoy, Kleese.

5-10 minutes later, Kleese received a knock on his door. He answered, and was greeted by a custom rendition of “Rock the Boat” performed by Reyna, Mellka, and Thorn wherein some of the lyrics were replaced with “Poop the bed! Don’t poop the bed Kleese now! Poop the bed! Don’t get s*** all over!”

A half hour later… Kleese received a second knock wherein Miko arrived to give him a birthday gift of it’s own. A heavy fibrous mixture from its own genetic structure guaranteed to help with bowel control and maintaining regular steady fecal drops. On its way out, Miko stopped to say… “Oh by the way…” It then started singing “Poop the bed! Don’t poop the bed Kleese now! Poop the bed! Don’t get s*** all over!”

At this point, the chorus of Reyna, Thorn, and Mellka returned, now joined by Montana, Benedict, Galilea, Oscar Mike, Ernest, Whiskey Foxtrot, Shayne, Aurox, Pendles, Marquis, El Dragón, Kelvin, Boldur, and Alani, and there was much rejoicing. Except by Kleese. He was super pissed. And Toby, who made a brief appearance in the hall looking around nervously holding his sheets only to quickly dash back into his quarters upon spotting the merry minstrelling on Kleese’s doorstep.


That was an excellent read! Thanks for the laughs! Defiantly feels you nailed ISIC’s personality to a tee!