August Megaparty Survey: Who is Feito?

LUKE: Oh great, here comes Frank.
JASON: What’s wrong with Frank?
LUKE: Dude, you kiddin? Watch and learn — guy can’t go five seconds without making up some ridiculous lie.

FRANK: What’s up guys?! I invented the wheel!

LUKE: Frank, you DID NOT invent the wheel. Why you always making shit up?
FRANK: What are you talking about? I absolutely did too invent the wheel.
LUKE: Ever notice that nobody likes talking to you? Saying stuff like about how you invented the wheel, or what was it last time — you control the weather? — that’s why nobody likes talking to you.

LUKE: Because you, sir, are one ugly four-armed lying fuck.

FRANK: You don’t believe me?! Why wouldn’t you believe me? I would never lie to my friends!

FRANK: So I ask myself, “Self? Do you have to take this abuse?” And I answer, “No! No, self! I don’t have to take this abuse!” I’m leaving!

FRANK: Hey! Hey you!

ZAPOW: Problem, pardnah?
FRANK: YEAH there’s a problem! Ever since you pulled me out of that car wreck and saw signs of amnesia, I’ve trusted you to tell me who I was and what I am. But I’m starting to find it a little suspicious that NOBODY believes I invented the wheel, and NOBODY believes I can control the weather, and NOBODY believes that I once ran for the United States presidency but had to bail out early to save Mars from rogue Earth bats who learned how to survive out there. And I also find it a little weird that you know all of THAT about me, and yet, you don’t know what my actual NAME is. And why’d you have to nickname me “Frank?” Everyone hates that name!
ZAPOW: You’ve said plenty. I need several hours to digest this.

ZAPOW: Okay Frank, I don’t know your real name, I admit it. But everything I’ve told you is true! Look, I don’t know who you’re talking to out there, but I know this much about ‘em: They’re jealous. And why not? Wouldn’t you be jealous of some random guy who invents wheels, saves planets and makes it rain? I mean, hell, even I’m jealous, and like I’ve told you before, I’m secretly God. Wheels, planet-saving, weather…all that, and your eyes are made of pure gold to boot!

FRANK: My eyes are made out of pure gold?

ELEPHANTONY: Get adda here, ye bum! Ye eyes, they not be made of gold! Foul liar is this!
ROBOT: When matters do not compute, we robots say FUCK YOU FOR LYING, LIAR!
FRANK: My life coach said you’d be jealous. But it doesn’t make this hurt any less.

FRANK: The only way I’m going to feel better about today is by reading a good book.

FRANK: Today is my lucky day. “Shiny As A Droid!” A storybook that will give me things to see, touch and smell from a galaxy far, far away!

FRANK: Alien paw fuzzy. Fuzzy not so much like a real alien paw, but like a pool table. Alien paw like a pool table.

FRANK: Oooh! Exotic alien fungus smells like carrots eaten up and shit out by a masochistic creature who lines his own intestinal track with foul smelling poison!

FRANK: When I pen my great rock anthem, the first line will be, “I’m surfin’ the stars like a beach bum on Mars.” The second and third lines probably won’t top it.

ZAPOW: You wrote that book, you know.
FRANK: I wrote “Shiny As A Droid?” Holy crap I’m awesome.
ZAPOW: Yeah, and since you wrote it, your real name should be somewhere on the front cover. Unless you used a pseudonym, which would suck, because you probably would’ve made your pseudonym sound like a real name, and then, we might never know for sure if the name we see on the front cover was legit or a handle you made up to discourage stalkers.
FRANK: Anything’s better than “Frank.”

FRANK: Virginia Holt. My name is Virginia Holt? I’m a girl?

FRANK: I guess the only question left is, “Who the fuck is Feito?”

FRANK: Feito! Here boy! Whee whoo whip whip! C’mere Feito! WHO ARE YOU FEITO? FEITO, TELL ME MY STORY I NEEEEED TO KNOW!
Give Feito an identity and tell us his story. How does he fit into the scheme of things? Who is Feito?

Posted by Matt. E-mail me!











Ghosted by 






Feito was of the species Ovion, an insect-like race of carnivores that were native to the planet Carillon. During a galactic war between humans and cybernetic automatons, they were almost completely destroyed. A small group of survivors slowly made their way across the galaxy in an intergalactic transport that looked remarkably like a 1957 Chevy Bel-Air convertible. During the course of their travels, one Ovion was ejected due to bogarting the last of a precious herbal compound that, upon ingestion, assisted them in dealing with the trauma of getting their collective asses kicked. (Footnote: an Ovion’s funky vest was made from the fibrous matter of this oranic compound). Another was unfortunately killed when he decided to car surf while traveling through the C-Beams of the Tannhauser gate, a few lightyears south of the shoulder of Orion. Yet another Ovion became deceased after they picked up what seemed to be an attractive hitchhiker which shared many similar insect-like traits to the Ovion species and was soon consumed by this insectoid whore. The Ovions had been away from their kind so long that this unfortunate Ovion did not remember that oral sex amongst his species always led to being eaten, quite literally. On approach to a solar system consisting of nine planets, he turned on his quantum communicator to detect life-forms. There were many messages floating through space. Unfortunately, many were scrambled and appeared to be naked humanoid forms with a breast, ass or penis occassionally visible through the scrambled image. As he continued to scour different channels, he came across a visual historical record chronicling the intense battle between a group of humanoids and automatons against a tall, black and metallic humanoid with subservient white-armored slaves that could not shoot straight. After watching this visual record, this Ovion went to sleep and had troubled dreams involving the human-shaped and bucket-like automatons. When he awakened, he drew these nightmarish images on napkins that were stuffed in his intergalactic glove compartment. He soon realized that he had been driving without paying attention to the galaxy and promptly ran into a planet. Due to the fact that his galactic cruising vessel looked like a cruising vessel driven by the indigenous life of that planet, suspicions were not raised that it was of extra-terrestrial origin. A human female by the name of Virginia Holt happened upon the crash and found the Ovion drawings. She promptly took them with the plan of incorporating them into a children’s book that she had written. Her publisher had publicly humiliated her by stating that she "couldn’t even draw flies if she was made of cowshit". She saw this has her ticket to success. She did not realize, however, that Feito had signed his drawings while practicing his humanoid-style writing. When this was addressed by her publisher, she lied. Ms. Holt told him that he was a Spanish artist friend of hers that had unjustly died at the hands of a 3-legged goat and that she wanted to pay tribute to him by publishing this book.
Later, Feito awakened and found himself being scrutinized by a large, helmet-wearing humanoid. "Hello, I’m God", announced this human.
"Where am I?", asked Feito the Ovion. "More imporantly, who am I?"
"Hmm, sit back, my smelly insectoid friend. Let me catch you up on your life so far…….."