The Meekrat Entertainment Group

Where mayhem is the man-fish!

Posts Tagged ‘Baggy Satan’

An Unimportant Matter

Posted by meekrat on September 24, 2010

It was the early nineties, and Mister Lucky, famed member of the Basset Hound Brigade, found himself tied to a chair. He was quite surprised, as this sort of thing hadn’t happened in decades. Since he was a rookie, in fact, just starting out in the adventuring business. A cold shiver went up his spine as he realized that he was genuinely surprised by this turn of events. While to the world at large he was the Luckiest Man in the World, he was actually the smartest man who ever lived, and had long been able to extrapolate what would happen to him using his excessive intelligence. Surprise was something that no longer happened to him. As he tried to free himself from his bonds, he felt his finger brush against another finger, followed by a low groan. Another surprise. It was not a very good day.

Mister Lucky tried to turn to look at his fellow prisoner, but whoever tied him to the chair knew darn well that a knot had to be tied ungodly tight to trap Mister Lucky. He settled on whispering, “Hey there, I’m Mister Lucky, and today’s your lucky day, because I’m going to get us out of this mess! But wait, there’s more! When I find out who did this, I’ll kick his teeth in!”

He waited a few moments for the other prisoner to respond, and when he did, Mister Lucky instantly recognized the voice of Shoshy Raphael, “Not my lucky day if I’m stuck here with you.”

“Sure it is. You’re some Detroit councilman, you’re on the straight and narrow! It’s my job to save people like you, long as you don’t try to kill me first,” said Mister Lucky, “Now let’s see about getting out of here.”

A light went on, momentarily blinding Mister Lucky. He bet it did the same to Shoshy Raphael, and another groan confirmed this. As his eyes adjusted, he saw a figure standing in the shadows.

“You’re awake. Good. I was getting bored,” said the figure, “My name is unimportant, but my message is quite important.”

“Well then, Unimportant, give us the message and let us go on our way,” said Mister Lucky, smiling wryly.

“I’m not stupid,” said Unimportant, “For too long, you and your kind have been a cancer upon this world. Adventurers and costumed heroes and the like running around thinking they’re better than the average man. I’ve taken the liberty of reuniting the Basset Hound Brigade and Nantucket Dragon Group, or at least those I could find, and there’s quite the surprise waiting for all of you once you’re out of here.”

“What kind of surprise?” slurred Shoshy Raphael, probably coming off the effects of some sort of drug.

“If I told you, then it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?” said Unimportant, “In five minutes, I’m sure you’ll both be free. Then you’ll find out what the surprise is.”

The light went off and a door opened. Mister Lucky’s mind and hands began to race.

“He didn’t gloat,” said Mister Lucky.

“So,” said Shoshy Raphael.

“Villains gloat. It’s what they do,” Mister Lucky managed to free one of his hands and began work on the other, “So either he’s not a villain, or… I don’t know.”

Shoshy Raphael sat straight up, “You don’t know?”

“Why’s that so surprising,” said Mister Lucky, freeing his other hand and working on the other bonds, “I’m the World’s Luckiest Man, not the smartest one.”

Shoshy slouched, “Yes. Of course. Are you almost free?”

Mister Lucky stood up and began untying Shoshy Raphael, “Sure am! Sit tight, councilman, I’ll get you out of here in a jiffy.”

A minute and twenty seconds later, Shoshy Raphael stood up. Neither he nor Mister Lucky looked a day older than they had in the nineteen-twenties, owing their longevity and youthfulness to a mystical dragon ring and an immortality serum, respectively. Mister Lucky closed his eyes and turned on the light. The door was open, at once inviting and menacing.

“I’m not looking forward to this surprise,” spat Mister Lucky, making his way to the door regardless. He looked out and saw a dimly-lit warehouse, and not a very good one, either. There was a catwalk connecting several second-story rooms and an empty floor. No boxes at all. In addition to a normal door, there were two loading docks.

Shoshy Raphael joined him at the doorway and peeked out, holding his ivory cane in front of him, “No boxes? What is this world coming to?”

“I know,” said Mister Lucky, “Back in the good old days, you made sure there were boxes to buckle swashes off of and all that.”

“Remember the Charleston Death Ray,” asked Shoshy Raphael, “You almost didn’t make it out of that one.”

“I think that was your most fiendish plan,” said Mister Lucky, almost smiling.

Shoshy Raphael did smile, “Why is that? The casualties? The far-reaching implications of such a device?”

“Nope,” said Mister Lucky, “If it wasn’t for that, I think that stupid Charlie Charleston would never have shown up.”

“Ah, yes. Charlie. During the second Great War, we all joked that he was the true force behind Adolf Hitler,” said Shoshy Raphael, “Could you imagine it? A legion of Nazis dancing the Charleston across the battlefield? A race of Aryan Supermen who were exceptional at dancing that infernal dance.”

“I shudder to think,” said Mister Lucky, “Just because I’m all chummy with you right now doesn’t mean I like you. I still think you’re one of the worst eggs I’ve ever come across.”

“Of course. My hatred for you is matched only by my hatred for Edwin Cloudstar,” said Shoshy.

“Who? Never mind, let’s check the other rooms. See if our compatriots are in them,” said Mister Lucky.

A quick check of the rooms revealed the Amazing Rando tied to a chair with Vinny Fitzpatrick, Guerdon Trueblood shackled together with the Impossible Mister Frink, Guy Magistro chained to a wall with Jojo Jenkins by his side, and Simon McCockindale in a room with Dick Douglas. All had been visited by Unimportant.

“I can’t wait for the surprise,” said Vinny Fitzpatrick, “D’ya think it’s a party?”

“Nazi jewel thieves,” said Dick Douglas, “I’d bet your hat on it.”

Guy Magistro flicked his wrist and summoned his basket of magic eggs, “Don’t be daft. We’ve done nothing worth celebrating. More likely that fool means to kill us.”

As if on cue, a large television screen flipped down from the ceiling and the silhouetted Unimportant appeared on its screen. The collective members of the Basset Hound Brigade and Nantucket Dragon Group looked up and waited.

“By my estimates, you should all have escaped by now. Don’t bother looking for me, as I’ve been gone for several minutes, and I took measures to keep you from following me. Now, if you’ll look down, you’ll see two loading bay doors. If my instructions are followed, then they should be opening now,” said Unimportant. The doors did, in fact, open and ten men walked out of the trailers. The Bassets and Nantucket Dragon Group looked down upon them warily. Unimportant continued, “I scoured the Earth to find beings who were your polar opposites. Anti-Bassets and Anti-Dragons, if you wish. It’s my hope that you all kill each other, though I admit my hopes aren’t very high. Have at it, gentlemen.”

The screen ascended and the ten men stared up at the Basset Hound Brigade and Nantucket Dragon Group.

“It’s impossible for us to survive,” gasped Mister Frink.

“Anything’s possible,” said a hippie, among the men on the ground, “I can do what you do, Mister Frink. You can call me the possible Mister Harold.”

“I never liked hippies,” said Mister Frink, under his breath.

“There’s no chance you can beat us,” said Mister Lucky, “I mean, look at you? Are you supposed to be my guy?”

A hulking brute of a man dressed like Mister Lucky just stared, “I’m Mister Unlucky. We’re gonna kill you dead.”

“I like him,” said Shoshy Raphael with a grin, “Right to the point. Nantucket Dragon Group, it would appear that they’re one short, and I’m sure we’re all terribly busy, so why don’t we end this quickly?”

“It’s been years since we done that,” said Simon McCockindale, “You think he’s still around?”

“Of course,” said Guy Magistro, “He’s a demon.”

“True,” said Simon McCockindale.

“Fire,” said Shoshy Raphael, thrusting out his fist.

“Earth,” said Guy Magistro, doing the same.

“Air,” said Guerdon Trueblood.

“Water,” said the Amazing Rando.

“Energy,” said Simon McCockindale.

The five dragon rings each emitted a beam of energy, meeting in the center of the room and drilling into the ground. Moments later, in a flash of brimstone and fire, the demonic hobo Baggy Satan emerged.

“What’s all this, then?” he said, honestly confused. He looked around and realized what was happening, “You lot! Just the other day I was having a chat with me mate about you! How long’s it been?”

“Decades,” said Shoshy Raphael, “If you would, destroy all those men on the ground.”

Baggy Satan’s eyes glowed with happiness, “Truly? No pullin’ levers or makin’ bears out of pizza? Just straight up hellfire an’ brimstone?”

“Yes!” said Shoshy Raphael.

The men on the ground began to converse nervously, and then they all stepped back. The possible Mister Harold waved to the Basset Hound Brigade and Nantucket Dragon Group, “Sorry, fellas, but we quit. Come on, Mister Unlucky.”

The veins on Mister Unlucky’s neck throbbed, his eyes bulged, and his suit tore. He turned to the possible Mister Harold and growled at him, “No!” He ran at Baggy Satan and punched him into a wall, leaving an imprint. There was a collective gasp, “I don’t run!”

“We do,” said Mister Harold, “Good luck taking on ten men and a demon.”

With that, the Anti-Bassets and Anti-Dragons disbanded, leaving only Mister Unlucky to oppose the Nantucket Dragon Group and Basset Hound Brigade.

“I don’t run, neither,” said Baggy Satan, standing up and wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, “Let’s see you do that again!”

Mister Unlucky cracked his knuckles and lumbered towards Baggy Satan, who lashed out with a flaming uppercut that threw Mister Unlucky into the air. He landed with a sickening crack, but immediately stood back up, tearing out a piece of the floor and hurling it at Baggy Satan. The demon countered it with a stream of hellfire, and then turned the fire on Mister Unlucky. He shielded his face from the fire and strode through it as if it were water, back-handing Baggy Satan once he reached him.

“Should we help?” said Vinny Fitzpatrick.

“Already on it,” said Mister Lucky, who took out a notebook, wrote something down, and slid the notebook into his pocket. Scant seconds later, a hundred Mister Luckys appeared in the warehouse and all of them swarmed Mister Unlucky. The brute easily threw them off and used several of them as weapons against Baggy Satan.

“He’s impossible to defeat,” said Mister Frink, whose words caused the large television to fall from the ceiling and crash upon Mister Unlucky, knocking him to the ground. Baggy Satan spat on him and vanished back into Hell and all the Mister Luckys dissolved into goo. The one true Mister Lucky made his way down and walked over to the fallen brute.

He checked for a pulse, “Oh my god. He’s still alive.”

“Quite a feat,” said Shoshy Raphael, “Now then, are we going to continue this little team-up or can we all go our separate ways?”

“We’re done here,” said Mister Lucky, nudging Mister Unlucky with his foot, “Be on the look-out, though. I don’t think we’ve seen the last of this Unimportant. Or Mister Unlucky.”

Advertisements

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

Mister Lucky’s Off Day

Posted by meekrat on September 20, 2010

The sunlight poked through the curtains of the Impossible Mister Frink’s quarters, slowly engulfing the modest hotel suite he called home in a dank light. He grumbled to himself and rolled over, pulling his nightcap over his ears to block out a din coming from other room in the hotel. The whole situation was not to his liking, and he ached to return to his rooms at Oxford with the terrible beds and cobweb-infested windows. He could get a decent night’s sleep there, and he could be certain that any noise he heard could be quelled with the threat of expulsion or some sort of reading assignment. Yet, as a member of the Basset Hound Brigade, he was counted on to reside in New York, though he refused to stay at the Fox’s Den, the storied home of the Basset Hound Brigade.

The riotous din was growing closer, and suddenly Mister Frink’s bedroom door flew open, revealing the all too familiar face of Mister Lucky, upon which the unfamiliar look of fear had settled, “Wake up, Frinky! Wake up!”

Mister Frink attempted to roll over, but knew that there was no stopping Mister Lucky once he set his mind upon something and so he rolled onto his back and sat up, “What the devil? Mister Lucky, why are you in my private rooms?”

Mister Lucky smiled, completely failing to convey any sense of comfort or happiness, “Today’s your lucky day, Frinky! It’s our day off!”

Mister Frink’s brow furrowed, his mind already acting at peak efficiency despite being active for a meager amount of minutes, “We do not take holidays. We are adventurers and scholars!”

Despite his obvious fear, Mister Lucky cocked an eyebrow and managed a sly smile, “Would you say it’s impossible?”

Mister Frink folded his arms across his chest, “Yes! It’s quite impossible for us to take a day off!” Slowly, Mister Frink realized that he had activated his power to affect probability, which rendered the impossible quite possible indeed, “Oh, drat. I’ve done it again.”

Mister Lucky dug through Mister Frink’s closet and pulled out a suitcase, and then took it over to the wardrobe and began tossing various items in, “You sure have! What do you want to do with your day off?”

“I’d quite like to return to my slumber,” said Mister Frink, already reclining and shutting his eyes.

Mister Lucky stopped packing the suitcase and leapt atop the bed, grabbing Mister Frink by his lapels and pulling him up, panic dripping from his every word, “And waste your day off? We should go somewhere! Far, far away! For a very long time!” He laughed nervously, then leapt off the bed and resumed packing.

Sensing that his slumber was over for the time being, Mister Frink removed his covers and walked behind an oriental screen, a gift from an Oriental trader the Bassets had helped previously, “What are you blathering on about?”

Mister Lucky tossed Mister Frink a gray three-piece suit and sat down on the bed, “I got a message from the Nantucket Dragon Group. They’re going to set off a series of bombs in the city today and I don’t want to be here for that.”

Mister Frink emerged from behind the screen fully dressed and straightening his tie, “I’m surprised at your behavior! You are one of the foremost adventurers of this age, and here you are acting like a common coward! I will give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you’re addled, for some reason, but we not must turn our backs on this crisis! We must join up with Douglas and the rest and — ”

Mister Lucky slumped forward, removing his bowler hat and putting his forehead in his hands, “They’ve all been kidnapped, Frinky. Every last one. Even Jojo and the Little Spick, and some ancillary member we just inducted last night and who’ll probably be dead before this whole thing is over.”

Mister Frink froze momentarily, “We must save them, even if it seems impossible for us to do so!”

“Oh, damn it. Fine. Let’s go save our…” Mister Lucky ran a few words through his head, found one he was happy with, and continued, “Let’s go save our allies from the clutches of the Nantucket Dragon Group and avert a city-wide disaster.”

“Indeed! First, let us eat breakfast. One can’t operate properly without a full stomach, and I sense that your stomach is very empty indeed,” said Mister Frink, ringing the bell to summon room service.

Mister Lucky smiled pathetically and nodded, “Okay!”

***

In a warehouse across town, the rest of the Basset Hound Brigade was, indeed, in the clutches of the sinister Nantucket Dragon Group.

Vinny Fitzpatrick scowled at the Dragons, “You’ll never get away wit’ this!”

Shoshy Raphael, sleepy-eyed and sharply dressed in a white suit with a fur-lined coat draped across his shoulders, laughed once, “Oh, but I think we will! Just to show you how serious we are we have secured your newest member, Quick-Exit Quinton, to our deadly explosion apparatus!”

Dick Douglas began frothing at the mouth and fighting against his bonds, “You fiend! Let him go and take me instead!”

Vinny tried to turn to look at his detective compatriot but only managed to get his head half-way turned, “I’ve never seen you so worked up about anyone, Mister Dick!”

Dick Douglas stopped struggling for a moment and closed his eyes solemnly, bowing his head and gritting his teeth, “In the short time I’ve known him, he’s become like a brother to me.”

Shoshy Raphael tapped his ivory cane against the floor and smiled maniacally, “All the more reason to destroy him! Amazing Rando, are his bonds secure?”

“Hizzah!” The magician Amazing Rando waved his hands mystically and stroked his immaculate mustache, “Nothing up my sleeve, no slack in the bonds! Let’s make him disappear!”

Shoshy Raphael pointed towards a Cockney pick-pocket, “Is the power prepared, Simon?”

The pick-pocket nodded, “Cor! It sure is, or my name ain’t Simon McCockindale!”

Shoshy Raphael stared for a moment, and then cast his eyes downward, “Yes. Guerdon Trueblood and Guy Magistro, are your tasks complete?”

The Native American warrior Guerdon Trueblood nodded, his voice slowly reaching a crescendo, “As sure as the sun rises in the east and the white man took my land.”

A crazed-looking man in robes and holding a basket filled with colored eggs turned to Shoshy Raphael, “He shall know centuries of pain in moments!”

“Then let our powers combine to summon Baggy Satan,” said Shoshy Raphael, thrusting his ring-adorned fist towards the heavens, “Fire!”

Guy Magistro thrust his fist towards the heavens, “Earth!”

Guerdon Trueblood did the same, “Air!”

As did the Amazing Rando, “Water!”

Simon McCockindale was the final link in this chain of power, “Energy!”

Thin beams of multi-colored light emanated from the rings, arcing towards the sky and quickly descending and meeting in the center of the five members of the Nantucket Dragon Group. As the five beams met, a hellish rainbow drilled towards the Earth and in a flash of fire and brimstone a demonic hobo emerged.

“Blimey! What’s all this, then?” said Baggy Satan, waving his arms to escape the smoke. He recognized his surroundings and rolled his eyes, “Not you lot again.”

“Yes! Baggy Satan, pull the lever that will activate the machine to destroy Quick-Exit Quinton!” shouted Shoshy Raphael, pointing towards the explosion apparatus and a lever not five feet from Simon McCockindale.

Baggy Satan looked from Shoshy Raphael to the lever, and back, and back again, “Really? I could just blast ’em wit’ the ol’ hellfire, I could, or any number o’ creative and ‘orrifying t’ings.”

Shoshy Raphael replied, “The lever, Baggy Satan!”

Baggy Satan floated up to the lever, trying to ignore Simon McCockindale as he did so, “Whatever you say, guv’nar.”

Baggy Satan pulled the lever and the machine below him started slowly, rumbling softly, sounding somewhat like an oncoming train. The Basset Hound Brigade watched in terror as the Nantucket Dragon Group looked on with glee as Quick-Exit Quinton quickly tried to free himself from bondage. An escape artist by trade, he easily freed one of his hands and reached down to undo his feet. With each foot, the machine rumbled louder and more quickly, until Quick-Exit Quinton reached up to free his other hand. As he did so, an explosion erupted from the machine, engulfing Quinton and leaving behind nothing but a singed hand which tumbled into the bowels of the machine.

Dick Douglas screamed, “No! Quinton! You’ve killed him, you filthy bastards! You’ve killed him!”

Shoshy Raphael laughed, “He’s just the first! We shall kill every last one of you do-gooders, as our machine runs on the power of virtuous souls, and we shall use those virtue-laden souls to destroy the city!”

“You people are mad!” shouted Vinny Fitzpatrick.

“Only because that fool Mister Lucky isn’t here to witness my triumph!” said Shoshy Raphael, completely unaware that Mister Lucky was across town arguing with Mister Frink about toast.

Dick Douglas looked around and gestured to his African-American gardener and a young Hispanic man, “Too bad the Jojo and the Little Spick are knocked out. I’m sure they could use their native magicks to free themselves, and then us.”

Vinny Fitzpatrick attempted to glower at him, mouth agape, “That’s a bit racist, don’t ya think?”

Dick Douglas thought about this deeply for a moment, “We’re tied to a wall. How can we be racing?”

Shoshy Raphael giggled madly, “You are racing Douglas! To your deaths!”

A dirty child named Mugsy dropped from the ceiling, landing with a cat’s grace, followed by a baby, a young Brachiosaur, and several other children, “Not so fast! Orphan Freelance is on the case!”

Shoshy Raphael turned towards the new arrivals, his eyes bulging, “What? Urchins? What madness is this?”

“Go get ‘im, Babyface!” shouted Mugsy.

The baby simply sat there, “Goo.”

Mugsy beamed with pride, “We call him that on account of the fact that he’s a baby, with a face!”

“He’s just sitting there,” said the Amazing Rando, who was nevertheless too bewildered and fearful to approach the infant.

Mugsy just smiled, “Okay then, plan B! Brachiosaur?”

Brachiosaur stepped forth, “Brachi!”

Mugsy pointed to the Bassets, “Go free the Basset Hound Brigade!”

The other orphan tugged on Mugsy’s sleeve, “What do you want us to do?”

Mugsy grinned, “Pillage and plunder, same as always! Crack all the safes, and make sure the Little Spick gets his cut or he’ll crack some skulls!”

“Right away!” The other orphan saluted and dashed off with several of his fellows.

Shoshy Raphael waved his arm theatrically, “Nantucket Dragon Group, kill the orphans! Every last one! We shall use their pure souls for our machine!”

Guerdon Trueblood raised his eyebrows, “Bear spirit thinks that’s rather harsh.”

Guy Magistro had no such qualms, however, and was chucking his magical eggs at the orphans as they ran about the warehouse over-turning boxes and making a general mess of things. As the eggs burst, unleashing various magical effects such as bursts of ice and fire, the orphans screamed and fell to the ground. However, Brachiosaur was finishing up his work.

“Brachi brachi!” he said, finishing removing Vinny Fitzpatrick’s bonds.

Vinny Fitzpatrick pat the young dinosaur on his head, “Thanks a load for untyin’ us. Let’s go get ’em, Dick! For Quinton!”

Dick Douglas looked up from rubbing the life back into his wrists, “For who?”

Vinny Fitzpatrick slapped his forehead, “Quinton. The man who said was like a brother to ya.”

Dick Douglas shrugged, “All right, but there’s six of them. The orphans skedaddled, and Jojo and the Little Spick are still lying around being useless. Lazy minorities!”

“They’re knocked out, Dick,” said Vinny, praying that history would understand Dick’s casual racism.

“Yeah, lazy. Anyway, there’s two of us and they have a giant machine to kill us with,” said Dick.

“I know it looks grim, but I think we can pull through!” said Vinny, striking his chest, “Just like Mister Lucky would!”

Dick Douglas looked thoughtful for a moment, “Huh, if that incompetent lout could pull through, then I can, too! Watch out, Nantucket Dragon Group, here we… er, where’d they go?”

Vinny looked around. The Nantucket Dragon Group were nowhere to be seen, nor was their machine, “I think they left while we was talkin’.”

Dick Douglas smiled and rubbed his hands together, “Great! Another case solved. Let’s go get us a drink.”

***

Elsewhere in the city, the Nantucket Dragon Group sat atop their incredibly slow-moving explosion apparatus as it made its way towards the center of the city. Amazing Rando attempted to practice his card tricks while Guy Magistro chucked his magic eggs at passer-by and laughing. Guerdon Trueblood stood with his arms folded, looking over the white man’s domain. Simon McCockindale sat with his legs dangling off the side of the apparatus, wondering if he should use his energy ring to increase the apparatus’s speed. He opted not to, as Shoshy Raphael was standing on the edge and gesturing out towards the city and ranting. Speeding up would no doubt cause him to fall off. Simon McCockindale’s monkey climbed on the outside of the machine while Baggy Satan hovered some distance behind.

“We shall take this apparatus to the very center of the city where we shall use its awesome power to destroy the centers of population,” he shouted, occasionally pointing at a pedestrian.

“Not to be cheeky, sir, but ain’t the whole city a center of population?” said Simon, listlessly waving his legs.

Shoshy Raphael turned to Simon, “That’s now what I meant and you know it.”

“I guess, sir,” said Simon, as he went back to his ponderings.

Shoshy Raphael pointed at the still-rising sun, “In any case, this shall be the first strike of the Nantucket Dragon Group’s war against the world!”

Several streets in front of them, a ghostly voice traveled on the wind, its sing-song cadence heard only by one man, “Here comes Mister Lucky, sad that he missed the handsome young boys…”

Mister Lucky scowled and whispered harshly, “Shut up, you!”

“I didn’t say anything,” said Mister Frink, frowning.

“Never mind, Frinky,” said Mister Lucky, “Here they come! Let’s go!”

Mister Lucky and Mister Frink stepped into the straight, causing the already nearly immobile explosion apparatus to become completely stationary. Shoshy Raphael looked down upon his enemies, “Oh, drat! It’s the rest of the Basset Hound Brigade. No matter, it’s still seven against two!”

The Nantucket Dragon Group descended from atop the explosion apparatus and took up a battle formation in front of the two members of the Basset Hound Brigade. Mister Lucky stood firm, “Too bad you’re facing off against the Luckiest Man in the World!”

Mister Frink stood two steps behind, “Even with your… ahem… luck, it’s impossible for us to triumph!”

“Just what I needed to hear, Frinky! Let’s have it!” said Mister Lucky, lashing out with a roundhouse punch.

It landed on the side of Simon McCockindale’s head, who cried out, “Oh no! I’ve been waylaid!” He slumped to the ground and his monkey dragged him away.

“A bit of fisticuffs, eh? Take this!” said Mister Frink, hitting Guy Magistro in the jaw with a right hook. The sorcerer fell to the ground in a slump. Mister Frink followed up by hitting the Amazing Rando with a right hook.

As the Amazing Rando fell, he said, “Now I see you, now I don’t, because I’m unconscious now!”

Mister Lucky found himself facing the man-mountain known as Guerdon Trueblood, and so he attempted to appeal to the Native American warrior’s better nature, “Your proud native American heritage can’t possibly agree with using innocent souls in a death machine, Trueblood!”

Trueblood looked down at him, “It does when they’re the souls of the white man.”

Mister Lucky smiled and wagged his finger, “In that case…”

A flowerpot fell from the sky and hit Guerdon Trueblood square in the head, knocking him unconscious.

“That flowerpot came out of nowhere,” said Shoshy Raphael, hissing.

“Did it?” said Mister Lucky with a wink, “It’s your turn, Shoshy! Give up and we’ll go easy on you!”

Shoshy Raphael stepped back, holding his ivory cane up as if to repel Mister Lucky, “Not so fast, Lucky! You forget that we have the power of Hell on our side! Baggy Satan, transport us back to our secret headquarters and destroy this machine! Farewell, Mister Lucky! We won’t meet again, because you’re going to die!”

Baggy Satan groaned and waved his hands, causing the Nantucket Dragon Group to vanish into thin air. Mister Lucky and Mister Frink braced themselves for the destruction of the explosion apparatus, but it simply fell apart.

“Well, that was a let-down,” said Mister Lucky.

“I believe they sought to have it explode. They should have given their demon more explicit instructions,” said Mister Frink.

“Well, then, I suppose today really is our lucky day!” said Mister Lucky, picking up a piece of the machine to examine.

“It will never be a lucky day so long as their evil roams the world,” said Mister Frink solemnly.

“Way to go, Captain Killjoy,” said Mister Lucky weakly.

“That’s not my name,” said Mister Frink haughtily, “You know my name.”

“Just… never mind,” said Mister Lucky, tossing the piece of machine to the ground and walking away, “I knew we should have just taken the day off.”

Posted in Fiction | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

MMM 2010: Finale Finale

Posted by meekrat on August 3, 2010

Shoshy Raphael: I’ll go. Consider it a part of my penance.
Iavi: How are you going to get him up there?
Shoshy Raphael: By using my ring! Also, Baggy Satan.
Baggy Satan: Not so sure that’s a good idea, guv’ner.
Shoshy Raphael: Of course it is. Now get us to the top of that mountain of goo!
[Baggy Satan sighs and grabs Edwin Cloudstar and Shoshy Raphael. Edwin Cloudstar deflects the blasts as much as he can, until they reach the top of the beast.]
Edwin Cloudstar: Here I go.
[Edwin Cloudstar drops and sinks through the goo, still holding the bomb, and disappearing from sight. Shoshy Raphael and Baggy Satan fly to the top of the Coliseum of the Stupid to watch what happens.]
Baggy Satan: Shouldn’t you be down there?
Shoshy Raphael: No. I’ve done more than enough, and I refuse to die here today.
Baggy Satan: What about all the other blokes?
Shoshy Raphael: After this… thing is dead and gone I’ll scour the bodies to find the other rings. Then I’ll wear them all. It should grant me great power. I doubt even the Stupid could stand to face me.
[An explosion takes place at the core of Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew, causing him to be blown to bits. Edwin Cloudstar walks out of the totally ruined stadium, not looking at the explosion behind him. While everyone’s eyes are on the explosion, Shoshy Raphael and Baggy Satan sneak to the back of the group. Edwin Cloudstar, Shoshy Raphael, and Baggy Satan reach the group.]
Iavi: Good job, kid! Quick thinking. I don’t think there’s any way that thing can come back now.
Xavier Malcolm: Yeah, unless he becomes an energy being or something. What are the chances of that, though?
Baco: Really! The chances of such a thing happening are at least a million to one!
Antwon: Two million to one, perhaps!
Bukake: Look! Something emerges from the danger zone!
[All look to see a ghostly image of Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew‘s face floating over the stadium. It unleashes two crackles of energy, totally vaporizing the Coliseum of the Stupid and the Hippodrome of Lamp Prime.]
Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew: I have become more than mortal! You have aided me to shed my fragile shell and now I exist as pure thought, pure energy! Taste my wrath!
[The Bear Machine,, its googly eyes shaking, begins shooting bears out with such ferocity that they fly at the energy.]
Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew: There was once a time when I would grant you mercy, but that time is gone, lifetimes ago!
Mike P: That was like an hour ago!
Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew: No matter!
[Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew vaporizes the Bear Machine, and Purga the Demon-Thing.]
Iavi: What the hell?
Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew: He was plotting, as you all are! I will destroy each and everyone one of you!
Iavi: Champions. Idea time.
Mike P: He’s made of pure energy, right?
Iavi: Yes, yes.
Mike P: I absorb energy.
Iavi: Yes!
[Fadeaway is vaporized.]
Mike P: Only, it’s a passive thing. I need Shoshy Raphael to shoot me with his fire, and maybe Purple Lamp to shield me on the way up.
Xavier Malcolm: Of cour —
[Xavier Malcolm is cut off due to being vaporized, along with Baco and Antwon.]
Owen Reilly: Okay!
[Bukake and Logan Keanu Solo are vaporized.]
Iavi: Hurry, before we —
[Iavi is vaporized, along with Xig.]
Shoshy Raphael: Fly, you fool!
[Owen Reilly puts Shoshy Raphael and Mike P in one of his bubbles. As they fly up, Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew is too busy vaporizing Edwin Cloudstar, the Animajor, Baggy Satan, and Jihad Man to care much about them. They reach the top and Mike P flies into the heart of Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew.]
Mike P: It’s… it’s all tingly!
Shoshy Raphael: Are you ready?!
Mike P: Do it!
[Shoshy Raphael begins blasting Mike P with fire, and as he absorbs the fire, he also absorbs the energy form of Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew. Mike P begins to pulsate with power.]
Mike P: Keep it up! He’s almost done!
Shoshy Raphael: I can’t! It’s burning my hand! I’ve never used it for so long before!
Owen Reilly: I’ll help!
[Owen Reilly uses his lamp of power to insulate Shoshy Raphael’s hand from the fire. Soon, the energy form of Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew has almost completely dissipated.]
Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew: You cannot destroy me! I will return, stronger than I was —
[Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew is cut off by the last of his energy being channeled into Mike P. Shoshy Raphael lowers his hand.]
Mike P: Purple Lamp! Make a funnel thing pointing at the sky!
[Owen Reilly does so, and Mike P shoots the energy through it. A faint “flargy margy dargy” can be heard being shot off into space.]
Mike P: So we’re done?
Shoshy Raphael: It would certainly appear that way.
Owen Reilly: I’ll take us down.
[The trio of champions land upon the bloody battlefield. Shoshy Raphael nudges a body with his foot.]
Shoshy Raphael: It would appear we’re the only ones left alive.
Owen Reilly: Hooray?
Mike P: Sort of.
[The Embodiments appear, and the champions tense up, despite being battle-weary and wounded.]
Deity Guy: Calm down, calm down.
Mike P: You sent Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew to try to kill us! It took all our powers to stop him!
The Stupid: Yeah, you did us a favor, there.
Shoshy Raphael: I’ll do you a favor after I find the other four rings, you vile creature!
[Shoshy Raphael bends down and picks up a charred hand.]
Shoshy Raphael: No ring here!
Lamp Prime: Really, guys. We’re not here to hurt you.
Owen Reilly: Okay.
[Owen Reilly sits down on the ground, legs crossed.]
The Stupid: I’ll admit, that whole thing right there? It got a bit out of control towards the end there.
Shoshy Raphael: Out of control? OUT OF CONTROL?! Everyone who came here is dead but the three of us! That’s not out of control, it’s genocide!
Deity Guy: Nothing to worry about. Everything is balanced again now, so it’s all good.
Mike P: Everyone is still dead.
[In the realm between life and death, everyone has abandoned the line and begun milling around.]
Barry, He Who is Death: All right. All right. God, there’s a lot of you. Okay, organize yourselves by age. Oldest first.
[Brachiosaur stands defiantly at the back of the line, while Professor Nick stands at the front. After much conversation, everyone else just stands wherever.]
Barry: Come on, there’s no way a dinosaur is older than a guy.
Brachiosaur: Brachi!
Barry: What?
Wyandotte: He says he’s young at heart.
Barry: I don’t want his heart, I want his soul. But whatever, don’t make my life any easier. Okay, what’s your name?
Professor Nick: Professor Nick!
Barry: Last name?
[Professor Nick looks at him, befuddled.]
Professor Nick: Nick?
Barry: So your first name is Professor?
Professor Nick: Oh, heavens no! That would be silly.
Barry: So what is your first name?
Professor Nick: Nick!
[Barry sighs and looks at the crowd, noticing several people who continually give him trouble such as Leo Leopolous and Mister Frink.]
Barry: Are any of you not going to give me trouble with this?
[There is a murmur of answers, all negative. Barry face-palms.]
Barry: Okay. Okay. Let’s start with someone whose name doesn’t sound like a cartoon character. Steve Chaccierone. Why does that name sound so familiar?
Steve the Chach: Dude!
Barry: Oh god. Not one of you guys.
Steve the Chach: Jon! J-Horn! Jay Jay! Look who it is! Tall skinny guy! All right!
Jonathan Hortenz: Steve, that’s death.
Steve the Chach: Wait, so you’re dead?
Jonathan Hortenz: We’re all dead.
Steve the Chach: Dude. Duuuuuuuuuude. Dude. Wait, wait. Remember that other time we met? At that party?
Barry: Unfortunately.
Steve the Chach: We can do Animaniacs!
Barry: Be quiet about that!
Elvin Clovar: Wait, I think I know the episode he’s referring to!
Player One: Let us do Animaniacs!
Steve the Chach: Yeah! We can challenge you!
[The crowd begins chanting “Animaniacs” and shouting about the Animaniacs rule. Barry sighs.]
Barry: Fine. I need you all to think of a number between one and ten.
Professor Nick: Thirty-seven!
Brachiosaur: Brachi!
Graves: Go to hell!
Elvin Clovar: Negative six!
Metallic Spheroid: Pi!
[Barry looks blankly at the crowd, a feat easily accomplished since he has no eyes.]
Barry: What? You’re just a shape. No, no. Whatever. Oh hey, look at that. You all beat me. You all get to live.
[As everyone pops back to the world of the living, three more arrive. Captain Zimball and Diamond Destiny, now fully clothed and holding hands, look around nervously. The Righteous Smidgen feels his throat.]
Barry: Oh, come on! Where the hell did you three come from?
[Diamond Destiny looks Barry over and immediately drops Captain Zimball’s hand, sidling up to Barry and rubbing her hand over his sleeve. As she does so, she becomes horrified as she realizes only bone is underneath.]
Barry: Stop that, okay? Weren’t you three killed by Baggy Jesus whatever-his-face?
Righteous Smidgen: No. It was Agent Villain.
Barry: Really? You trusted someone with that name not to kill you. It’s your own fault. Please stop touching me, ma’am. I don’t even have any organs.
[Diamond Destiny stops touching Barry and pouts her way over to Captain Zimball. He puts his hand on her shoulder and she brushes it off.]
Barry: Anyway, I just let everyone else who died who wasn’t a time-clone pop back to the world of the living after they challenged me. You want to challenge me, or do you just want to go to the Afterlife?
Righteous Smidgen: I think I’d rather live.
Captain Zimball: I got things I need to do.
Diamond Destiny: Let us live and I’ll give you your wallet back.
[Diamond Destiny holds up a wallet, and Barry touches his pocket where his wallet, certainly, is not. Barry sighs, snaps his fingers, and his wallet is back in his pocket. He points to each of the dead in turn.]
Barry: Biff. Zam. Pow. See you jerks later.
[Back in the realm of the living, everyone suddenly pops back to life as if nothing ever happened.]
Deity Guy: See? No one is dead!
Mike P: But… what… how?
Lamp Prime: I’m feeling sort of down again… Mister Lucky is still dead.
[However, out of the shadows steps a familiar figure.]
Mister Lucky: Did someone say Mister Lucky?
[Elsewhere in the area, Doctor Derangemo teleports in, hurriedly brushing sandwich crumbs off his labcoat. Agent Villain slinks in next to the remaining agents of ZODIAC.]
Mister Lucky: I was never dead! It was a clone!
Shoshy Raphael: You inconsiderate fool! If you had just come clean about being alive, all of this could have probably been avoided!
Mister Lucky: I needed to make sure Agent Villain and the Stupid weren’t up to no good.
The Animajor: Did you find the Righteous Smidgen?
Righteous Smidgen: They did! I guess the Stupid was, in fact, evil. You leave and you learn!
Lamp Prime: You sure do!
[Everyone starts laughing heartily, save Mike P and Shoshy Raphael, who stare at the Embodiments and everyone else, who seem to not care that all the hardships experienced over the past few hours — indeed, the past few weeks — could have been avoided if one man hadn’t faked his death, and if another man had the good sense to realize that a being called the Stupid was, in fact, malevolent.]
Shoshy Raphael: Really! What the bloody hell is this?
Mike P: Seriously!
Deity Guy: Okay, okay. Calm down. We have prizes for you three, and one more for the guy who’s the grand winner of this whole thing!
The Stupid: First, Shoshy Raphael! If you really want to be the Embodiment of Evil, why not?
Shoshy Raphael: Truly?
The Stupid: Nope! You get this gold medallion! If you peel off the gold and look inside, look! It’s chocolate!
[Shoshy Raphael takes the chocolate, nibbles on it, and frowns.]
Shoshy Raphael: Oh. Goodie.
Deity Guy: Next, Mike P. We figured it was only fair for you to get a new resort.
Mike P: Really? Maybe I was wrong —
Deity Guy: Then we decided, nah! Why should we do that? Instead, here’s a gold medallion! If you peel the gold off this one, it’s chocolate!
[Mike P takes the chocolate and bites off a piece and chews. He scowls at the Embodiments.]
Mike P: Gee. Thanks.
Deity Guy: Is it good?
Mike P: [angrily] It’s delicious.
Lamp Prime: Finally, for Owen Reilly, here’s a gold medallion!
Owen Reilly: Oh boy! Is it chocolate?
Lamp Prime: It sure is!
Owen Reilly: ALL RIGHT!
Deity Guy: Now, for the final ultra-special prize. Mike P, you’re the ultra-winner since they kept going with your plans.
Mike P: Hooray. I won this thing last year and you didn’t give me what I wanted.
Deity Guy: Well, this year, you’re going to get a brand new resort on that island with all the heads!
Mike P: Oh. Thanks. Now I feel bad for conning JJ into being willing to foot the bill.
Deity Guy: As well you should! Congratulations! Now then, we hope everyone had a good time here this year, we’ll see you back next year for another tournament!
Iavi: Wait, that’s it? Everything’s all hunky-dory and everyone is friends again?
Lamp Prime: Pretty much.
Iavi: All right.
Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew: Toodles, everyone!
[Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew begins dancing a jig, and everyone claps and laughs. Mike P and Shoshy Raphael look in in disbelief, but as the now benign and diminutive bear continues, they both shrug and allow themselves to smile. As Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew dances, various beings are transported back to their homes.]

Posted in March Meekrat Madness 2010 | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

MMM 2010 Finale: Interlude

Posted by meekrat on August 2, 2010

[Meanwhile, on the air submarine…]
Doctor Derangemo: We’re going to crash! Hahahaha!! Isn’t this FUN?!
Captain Zimball: No, this shit ain’t fun at all! The hell’s goin’ on out there?!
[Diamond Destiny grips for Captain Zimball’s crotch, but Captain Zimball moves fast enough to avoid her errant hand.]
Captain Zimball: Damn, girl, shit ain’t right. We about to die!
Diamond Destiny: I don’t care! I’ve never had a black man before, and I won’t die without experiencing the joys of one!
Captain Zimball: I ain’t never had a white girl before, neither…
[Neither really caring or knowing that the other one is lying, Captain Zimball looks deep into Diamond Destiny’s glittering green eyes, and she into his dark brown eyes. Without warning, the air submarine dives as Captain Zimball and Diamond Destiny meet in a lusty embrace. Doctor Derangemo stands by and watches for a moment as the two strip naked before him. Doctor Derangemo‘s expression goes from disgusted to blank, then his eyes light up.]
Doctor Derangemo: That reminds me! I need to clean the oven! Off to the kitchen!
[As Doctor Derangemo leaves, Agent Villain slides in, the shadows covering his movement. He pulls a gun from the holster at his side and screws the silencer into the barrel. Two pulls of the trigger later, Captain Zimball and Diamond Destiny are dead, theirs becoming the ultimate story of coitus interruptus. Agent Villain walks over to the ship’s console, kicking the bodies as he goes, and sits down. Immediately, he takes control of the weapons and starts pushing buttons. The ship’s lasers blast away bits and pieces of Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew‘s gray matter, causing more chaos outside. Agent Villain chuckles to himself as he imagines the sweet destruction that will ensue as a result of his machinations — that is, he imagines this until a familiar voice calls from behind him.]
Mister Lucky: I knew I’d find you here, Agent Villain. Time to put and end to your evil once and for all!
[Earlier…]
Loveland Frog: So, uh, what’ll you have? Ribbit.
[At the center of the chaos stands a small pub built with scrap metal, stray boulders, and wooden planks left over from the ill-fated war a few rounds ago. Bottles of alcohol adorn the shelf, each lifted from Deity Guy’s liquor closet. Behind the counter stands the Loveland Frog, his once-pristine tuxedo now ripped and tattered as a result of minor quakes and cave-ins due to the violence outside. Sitting at the splintered wooden tables are the stripper-turned-thief Diamond Destiny, the members of the bar-hopping super team known as Danger Force, Tom and Brendan Phillipson, and the mad scientist Doctor Derangemo. Standing at the counter is Captain Zimball, freelance sea captain, zombie hunter extraordinaire, and member of the Astounding Superhero Syndicate.]
Captain Zimball: Rum.
[The most calm and collected member of Danger Force, J-Mike, approaches the counter quietly — his scars, tattoos, army camoflauge pants, and leather jacket painting him as a complete bad ass. After the Loveland Frog gives Captain Zimball his drink, Captain Zimball takes a seat at a table near the Philipsons and Diamond Destiny. Captain Zimball looks at Diamond Destiny, catches her eye, and winks as he holds up his drink, smiling. Diamond Destiny huffs, pouting her lips, and turns her head away to look at the Danger Force: the suave and alluring member, T-Bone; the ruggedly handsome and charismatic R-Man; the persuasive and intellectually intense J-Jeff; the massive, muscular giant called Chops; and, at the counter, the bad boy bad ass known as J-Mike. Doctor Derangemo sips absently at his ginger ale, his mind occupied with an electronic Sudoku puzzler. Captain Zimball smirks to himself, shakes his head, takes a swig of his rum, and listens to the conversations.]
Tom Phillipson: No, dude, you don’t understand. The Holocaust didn’t happen.
Brendan Phillipson: I respectfully disagree.
Loveland Frog: And what can I —
J-Mike: Yeah, heya, Kermit. Listen, I’m gonna need a rum and coke. Hold the fucking ice, though. That shit bruises the alcohol, you know?
[J-Jeff, overhearing the conversation behind him, turns away from his Danger Force comrades and speaks, the alcohol in his blood pushing his ability to argue his point elegantly beyond what is normally considered human.]
J-Jeff: Wait, wait, wait. Hold on. What the fuck do you mean? Of course the Holocaust happened.
Tom Phillipson: Nuh uh. Didn’t happen.
J-Jeff: [turning his chair to face Tom] Bullshit. Explain.
[The Loveland Frog turns his back to J-Mike and mixes his drink.]
Loveland Frog: That’ll be two dollars, ribbit.
J-Mike: [pulling out his checkbook] Two bucks? You better make a damn good drink, Frenchy. Take a check?
Loveland Frog: No. Cash only.
[Brendan Phillipson throws his hands up in the air and gets up from the table. He approaches the counter. Back at the Danger Force table, T-Bone slides his tongue in and out of his mouth, insinuating cunilingus in the direction of Diamond Destiny. R-Man chugs Russian Stout after Russian Stout in an attempt to gain clarity through inebriation. Chops shovels handful upon handful of crab legs into his mouth. Tom Phillipson continues to argue with J-Jeff.]
Tom Phillipson: Like, it’s so obvious. Remember all the videos of the Holocaust?
J-Jeff: Of course I do. That shit’s been burned into my mind. I couldn’t forget it if I wanted.
Tom Phillipson: Well, notice how no one was dancing around when they were rescued?
J-Jeff: Uh, yeah. Yeah, I do.
Tom Phillipson: If the Holocaust happened, why weren’t the victims celebrating?
[If J-Jeff’s eyes shot lasers, his glare would bore a hole into Tom Phillipson’s skull.]
J-Jeff: That’s the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.
Tom Phillipson: No need to be profane, dude. If you disagree, be respectful —
J-Jeff: No, fuck that, and fuck you. You know why no one was celebrating? Because they hadn’t fucking eaten in three years, that’s why!
Tom Phillipson: That’s not true, though. It’s on record that they were fed sawdust and stuff.
[Brendan Phillipson taps the counter impatiently with his two golden presidential dollars.]
Brendan Phillipson: Ahem.
J-Mike: Cash only? What the fuck?
Loveland Frog: Yes, cash only. We’re on the verge of apocalypse. Ribbit. Checks and credit are no good here.
J-Mike: I don’t fucking believe this.
Brendan Phillipson: AHEM.
J-Mike: [turning to Brendan Phillipson] What the fuck do you want, freckles?
Brendan Phillipson: Hey, don’t be so defensive.
J-Mike: Defensive? I’ll show you defensive.
[J-Mike grabs an empty beer bottle from the counter and breaks it over Brendan Phillipson’s head. The freckled conspiracy theorist falls to the ground, his head pouring blood and his eyes welling with tears. J-Mike takes the two gold dollars left behind and slides them to a now nervous Loveland Frog.]
J-Mike: Here’s your two fucking dollars. Where’s my God damned rum and coke?
[Back at the tables, Captain Zimball closes his eyes and imagines he’s somewhere else. Doctor Derangemo mouths false obscenities such as “tiddlywinks” in anger at his electronic sudoku puzzle. Diamond Destiny and T-Bone embrace as Diamond Destiny picks T-Bone’s pockets. R-Man and Chops laugh at the argument between J-Jeff and Tom Phillipson.]
J-Jeff: Sawdust? SAWDUST? You little fucking prick, I should turn you inside-out for even thinking that sawdust is a part of a balanced fucking diet.
Tom Phillipson: Okay, you know what? You’re really not playing nice, here, so I’m just going to get up and walk away.
[Tom Phillipson leaves the table and walks across the room to the bathroom. After about a minute, J-Jeff, with a look of determination on his face, follows Tom Phillipson into the bathroom. As the door swings, all that can be heard is J-Jeff screaming “The Jews!” Back at the counter, the Loveland Frog takes the money and hands J-Mike his rum and coke. J-Mike takes one sip, then spits it out in Loveland Frog’s face. J-Mike’s face grows red, and his tattoos seem to writhe on his body. He grabs Loveland Frog by the collar of his tuxedo and pulls the amphibian’s face close to his.]
J-Mike: THERE’S ICE IN THIS!
[J-Mike drops the Loveland Frog and, jerking his arm back, launches a powerful right hook into the face of the bipedal cryptid, felling him instantly. J-Mike pours the contents of the glass onto the Loveland Frog, then throws the empty glass against the wall. As if on cue, the door to the bar swings open, and all patrons stare at the doorway. In steps the black-clad Agent Villain, his eye scanning the premises. It fixes on Doctor Derangemo. Agent Villain turns around and speaks to a shadow-covered figure standing in the doorway behind him.]
Agent Villain: He’s here. Care to do the honors?
[All eyes in the bar are on Agent Villain as he steps through the door. The color drains from the faces of all the patrons except Doctor Derangemo as the shadow-covered figure follows, the light of the bar revealing the brown-suited form of Mister Lucky.]
Mister Lucky: Doctor Derangemo, we need your help — to save the world!
Doctor Derangemo: [grinning wildly and placing his puzzle on the table] This is about the monster outside, isn’t it?
Mister Lucky: I’m afraid so. And what we need is —
Doctor Derangemo: Why, of course! It’s obvious, isn‘t it? You need me to lead you to my most wondrous invention yet!
Mister Lucky: If you want to call it that, sure.
[Tom Phillipson approaches Mister Lucky.]
Tom Phillipson: Uh, you’re supposed to be dead.
Mister Lucky: Supposed to be, but I’m not. Anyway —
Brendan Phillipson: [on the ground, working through the tears] No, you’re dead. There was a funeral and everything.
Mister Lucky: I know, I was there. Anyway —
Tom Phillipson: How are you alive right now?
Mister Lucky: Look, I don’t have time to explain, okay?
Agent Villain: It was a clone. The coward makes clones of himself so he doesn’t have to face his own mortality.
Mister Lucky: Oh, that’s great. Thanks for revealing my secret — about the clones, anyway. I‘m not afraid of dying.
Agent Villain: Really? Is that why you disabled Lamp Prime’s atomic bomb in Round Two? Because you’re not afraid of death?
Mister Lucky: Graves and Vinny are both idiots. You know that. They would have killed everyone!
Agent Villain: I almost forgot that you also took a peek at your funeral. Afraid no one would show up? Or maybe you were hoping that your estranged son would show up, perhaps? Pathetic.
Mister Lucky: That was morbid curiosity. And you can leave Lucky Charms out of this, you jerk. But wait, there’s more! You’re a hypocrite!
Agent Villain: What?
Mister Lucky: It’s true, and you know it! You yourself are afraid of death! That’s why you deserted the armies of The Stupid!
Agent Villain: Ridiculous. I saw that The Stupid’s plan would ultimately fail, so I betrayed him by giving plans for his Coliseum to Deity Guy and Lamp Prime.
Mister Lucky: Nice story. You’ve probably been telling yourself variations of it since that bunker incident in Berlin, haven’t you?
Agent Villain: [pulling a knife from a sheath at his side] For someone who fears oblivion, you seem to have quite the death wish. And I have no problem granting that wish — a second time.
Mister Lucky: [putting his fists up] Make no mistake, Agent Villain — though you’re welcomed to help, I don’t need you. So if you want to settle our score right here and right now, I’m more than willing to oblige you.
[Captain Zimball, unable to listen to the bickering anymore, stands up and puts himself between the two champions.]
Captain Zimball: The fightin’ can wait. Ya’ll said something’ about savin’ the world?
[Doctor Derangemo jumps to his feet and springs forward, landing in front of Captain Zimball like a Warner Brothers cartoon character.]
Doctor Derangemo: Oh, yes! Yes, yes, yes! Saving the world — with my machine! The world’s first and only air submarine! Come, let’s have a look at it!
[Doctor Derangemo runs to the door of the bathroom and into it. Captain Zimball, Mister Lucky, and Agent Villain follow him into the bathroom. A bit dazed from her dry-humping session with T-Bone and noticing Mister Lucky, Diamond Destiny follows the others into the bathroom. Doctor Derangemo enters the third stall on the left and, once the others are present, pushes the flushing mechanism. The ceiling opens and several human-sized tubes drop from the ceiling, surrounding each. Like a capsule in an office mailroom, the human cargo is then sucked up and into the tubes. Through twists and around turns they fly, each fluidly moving through the system with minimal trouble — the only exception being Diamond Destiny, whose buxom chest occasionally causes her to get stuck. At journey’s end, each is deposited in the windowed cockpit of a large vessel. Though nauseous, each passenger — save Diamond Destiny — rises to their feet and can’t help but marvel at the workmanship and ingenuity of this madman’s ship.]
Doctor Derangemo: [Throwing his arms out] Gentlemen, I welcome you to the most marvelous ship you’ve ever seen… the air submarine!
Mister Lucky: Wow. It’s, uh, pretty great. Hey, where are we?
Doctor Derangemo: My lab, of course!
Mister Lucky: Castle Valerium?
Doctor Derangemo: No, no, my boy. My lab — in this dimension! It was my belief that when the war began, we would be stuck in this dimension for quite some time. Thus, I used my dimensional transference ray to, well, transfer some of my stuff from our dimension to this one.
Agent Villain: [looking at the panels] Hm. Not quite a submarine. More like a stealth jet.
Doctor Derangemo: Nonsense! It’s a submarine — that flies through the air! And is equipped with lasers! Just like a submarine!
Agent Villain: [after a pause] As I said.
[Doctor Derangemo grins maniacally, then shifts his expression to that of depression as he looks around the room.]
Doctor Derangemo: Oh, no. This won’t do at all.
Mister Lucky: What is it?
Doctor Derangemo: Tampon-Bot is gone! Destroyed in the chaos, no doubt. Why, who will fly the ship?
Captain Zimball: Look, I don’t know nothin’ about savin’ the world, and I don’t know nothin’ about no air submarines — but one thing I do know is that I can captain anything based on nautical tech and that there’s a giant… whatever that thing is out there, tearin’ my friends apart. If you need someone to captain this boat, I’m your guy.
[Diamond Destiny slowly and graugily gets up, her breasts jiggling as she does.]
Diamond Destiny: Oh, I don’t feel so good…
[All turn around immediately to face her.]
Captain Zimball: Who let the lady on my ship?
Diamond Destiny: Huh? What lady?
Captain Zimball: I ain’t flyin’ this thing if there’s a lady onboard. It’s bad luck.
Mister Lucky: Don’t be silly. That’s an old superstition, and besides, you’ve got Mister Lucky onboard — the luckiest man in the world!
Diamond Destiny: [holding her head and stumbling towards Mister Lucky] Speaking of getting lucky… for five dollars, I’ll show you how lucky you are that I came, Mister. See what I did there? [giggles lightly, sounding as though intoxicated, and falls into Mister Lucky’s arms.]
Agent Villain: Heh. Go get her, loverboy.
Mister Lucky: [dropping Diamond Destiny and grabbing the wallet that she just pilfered from his pocket] Uh heh, wow. That’s, uh, a great offer, but we need to get underway.
Doctor Derangemo: Good, then it’s settled! Let’s go save the world!
[Captain Zimball sits at the captain’s chair and grabs hold of the nautical wheel, spinning it.]
Captain Zimball: Still think it’s bad juju to have a woman onboard…
[Massive flames spray out of the back and underside of the vessel as Captain Zimball pushes a large red button in the center of the wheel. Above them, the hanger doors open and the firelight of chaos and destruction greets the passengers through the windows of the cockpit. As they rise into the air, they see the giant, monstrous form of Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew in the distance. With the push of the large blue button on the wheel, the ship’s cloaking device activates, making the ship itself and all inside invisible.]
Captain Zimball: [turning around to face the others] So, what’s the plan?
[Doctor Derangemo steps forward to a panel on the lower deck. After punching in a sequence of numbers, he presses a flashing green button an fires a small rocket at the monster. In the distance, a miniscule puff of smoke can be seen.]
Doctor Derangemo: That should buy us some time. Now, if you gentlemen would kindly fill us in on the details…?
[Meanwhile, down below, Talia Andreos, Doctor Derangemo‘s lab assistant, notices a sparkle out of the corner of her eye.]
Talia Andreos: What in the…
[As she squints, she can make out a white figure flying through the air at supersonic speeds. Within seconds, she recognizes the form and grabs Gerald’s sleeve, pulling on it vigorously.]
Talia Andreos: [pointing, excited] Look, up in the sky!
Gerald: That’s really old, and really played out.
Talia Andreos: [smacking Gerald on the back of the head] No, dipstick, seriously. Look up in the sky.
[Gerald looks up and sees the figure. Immediately, his heart soars and he can’t help but smile.]
Gerald: It’s him! It’s Free Comic Book Day Man!
[Through the sky he darts like a streak of white lightning, plummeting on the straight and narrow and slamming into Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew‘s shoulder. The monster lets out a pained roar as Free Comic Book Day Man punches his way into the wound and digs out a small rocket containing some copies of Free Comic Book Day issues of “Sabrina the Teenage Witch Trials”. Below, the crowd cheers — but the cheers turn to gasps of horror as the giant monster slams Free Comic Book Day Man into the ground with his humongous fist, grinding the pavement before pulling away. Horrified, Talia Andreos runs up to Free Comic Book Day Man’s limp, lifeless body. Holding him by the shoulder, she cries out in rage and frustration as she lifts his head to her chest. The rage and frustration quickly turns to pain and agony, however, as Free Comic Book Day Man’s yellow acidic blood burns through Talia Andreos’s clothes and skin, leaving in its place a limp, lifeless, deformed corpse.]
Mister Lucky: Thanks to some research on my part —
Agent Villain: Research? You mean the information I gave you, right?
Mister Lucky: That, and the research I did on my own which confirms that your information is correct —
Agent Villain: Of course it’s correct.
Mister Lucky: Look, gentlemen, the embodiments have gone mad. This thing — this Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew, as they call it — is itself from a different dimension.
Agent Villain: Supposedly, it was chosen because the embodiments felt it held within the fabric of its existence the essences of our entire universe —
Mister Lucky: The essences of a bear, a monkey, a Jesus, a Jew, a homosexual, a robot, a leprechaun, a Purple Lamp, and a hobo. Did I miss anything?
Agent Villain: It doesn’t really matter.
Mister Lucky: Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew was meant to be the final challenge for the champions of each bracket.
Agent Villain: In order to make the creature seem more powerful, Deity Guy commissioned a machine to be built.
Doctor Derangemo: A machine that captures ghosts and turns them into energy!
Agent Villain: Yes.
Mister Lucky: How do you know that?
Agent Villain: Since you, heh, did your research, you should know.
Mister Lucky: Oh, right. Derangemo built that machine, too.
[Doctor Derangemo smiles proudly as everyone else stares at him with annoyance.]
Agent Villain: The power upgrade to the creature was supposed to stop there. But, as their thirst for vengeance against each other and, later, against their own champions grew, the embodiments surmised that perhaps the creature could be made even more powerful by giving it their own powers.
Captain Zimball: But if what you said is true, Baggy Jesus O’Leary —
Mister Lucky: O’Malley.
Captain Zimball: Yeah, he still shouldn’t be rampaging, since the fight was s’posed to be fake.
Agent Villain: Heh. You have The Stupid to thank for that one.
Mister Lucky: He tricked the Righteous Smidgeon, a superhero that can shrink to atomic levels, into invading the creature’s brain and running amok.
Agent Villain: The result of his meddling is what you see outside.
Diamond Destiny: [twirling some chewing gum on her finger] So, why don’t the embodiments take their powers back? Or something?
Mister Lucky: A surprisingly good question. We believe that, once they give the power away, it must either return to them naturally or it must be given back to them willingly.
Agent Villain: That’s why we must kill the creature at all costs.
Mister Lucky: No! We talked about this! Violence isn’t in the creature’s nature, Agent Villain! I mean, it saved Gerald and Bahige from the Paci Custodis in the first round. It’s normally peaceful or, at the very least, somewhat benign. So no killing. What we need to do is get the Righteous Smidgen out of its head. Once we do that, its other-dimensional brain will be allowed to heal naturally.
Captain Zimball: Then what’re we waitin’ for? Let’s go in there and pick him up!
Doctor Derangemo: Yes! We’ll enter through the ear canal and ride through his body, like in “Fantastic Voyage”! Oh, how I love that movie!
Mister Lucky: That’s precisely the plan. Zimball, can you get us in there?
Captain Zimball: The wheel ain’t that responsive, but what we gotta lose?
Mister Lucky: That’s the spirit!
[Captain Zimball navigates the air submarine towards Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew‘s ear, the monster seemingly unaware of the soon-to-be invasive ship.]
Captain Zimball: Damn thing keeps moving!
Doctor Derangemo: Push the green button!
[Captain Zimball does so, and smooth jazz plays through the ship’s speakers.]
Captain Zimball: What the hell is this supposed to do?
Doctor Derangemo: Nothing. I just felt that we could do with some music.
Captain Zimball: Whatever. You got shields on this thing?
Doctor Derangemo: Push the green button!
Captain Zimball: I just pushed the damn green button!
Doctor Derangemo: Yes! Push it again!
[Captain Zimball sighs and pushes the button again. The jazz turns to house techno, the lights dim, and a strobe light descends from the ceiling. On the outside of the air submarine, shields are raised and a small HUD appears to show shield integrity.]
Captain Zimball: That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout!
[With newfound confidence, Captain Zimball flies directly into Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew‘s ear canal. Once they are safely inside, Mister Lucky and Doctor Derangemo stand to each side of Captain Zimball to study this magnificent sight.]
Doctor Derangemo: Oh my! It’s filled with incredibly old pizza!
Mister Lucky: How bizarre.
Captain Zimball: You two ladies quit gabbin’ and tell me how to get to the brain.
Doctor Derangemo: Second star to the right, and straight on ’til morning!
Captain Zimball: The hell?
Mister Lucky: No, I think he’s right. Look!
[Mister Lucky points outside and there are several dozen pizza stars floating within Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew. Captain Zimball navigates for whatever pizza star could be considered the second to the right, and continues straight. As he navigates through them, he deftly steers around chunks of ancient pizza until hitting another smaller canal, one which is free of debris. He slows the air submarine down and as the exterior becomes dark, a light appears in the distance.]
Doctor Derangemo: See? Darkness, and then light! Night, and then morning!
Captain Zimball: Whatever you say, you crazy-ass cracker.
[They head towards the light, eventually popping out in the cavity which houses Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew‘s now giant brain. Mister Lucky and Doctor Derangemo stare out the window until one of them sees a figure stomping around.]
Mister Lucky: There! Set her down!
[Captain Zimball complies, not landing on the brain, but hovering above it.]
Mister Lucky: You got anything in this tub for us to go down there?
Doctor Derangemo: No. Why would I? It’s an air submarine. Feel free to use the sound system, if you like.
Mister Lucky: Will it work through fluids?
Doctor Derangemo: Didn’t you hear me? It’s an air submarine!
Mister Lucky: So there’s no fluid out there? Only air?
Doctor Derangemo: Of course!
[Mister Lucky takes a moment to process this, something which is altogether new and unpleasant for him. He shakes his head quickly and goes to the door.]
Mister Lucky: Okay! Villain, Derangemo, you’re coming with me!
Agent Villain: The great Mister Lucky, asking help from his greatest enemy and a mad scientist.
Doctor Derangemo: I’m not mad! Slightly peeved, perhaps, but not mad!
Agent Villain: The point stands.
Mister Lucky: I don’t need you for anything, but I also don’t trust you one bit. Now come on! How do we get down there?
[Doctor Derangemo pulls a chain hanging from the ceiling, and a hatch opens up on the floor. A curvy slide unfolds downward.]
Doctor Derangemo: Me first!
[Doctor Derangemo slides down the slide.]
Mister Lucky: I’d say age before beauty, but I’ve got you beat in both. So why don’t you go next so you don’t stab me in the back on the way down?
Agent Villain: How do you know I won’t kill you when you slide down?
Mister Lucky: You’re right. Think fast!
[Mister Lucky tackles Agent Villain and the pair grapple as they slide down. When they hit gray matter, Mister Lucky stands up and jumps away from Agent Villain. Agent Villain stands up and sneers at Mister Lucky, brushing himself off.]
Agent Villain: A lucky strike.
Mister Lucky: Petulence doesn’t become you. Now come on, we’ve got a giant rampaging monster to stop!
[The three trek over to the Righteous Smidgen, a task which takes nearly twenty minutes due to Mister Lucky’s continual need to make sure Agent Villain isn’t trying anything and the need to make sure Doctor Derangemo stays on task. Mister Lucky walks up with his hands help upward, all the while the Righteous Smidgen is attacking the brain.]
Mister Lucky: Hey there!
Righteous Smidgen: What? Who are you?
Mister Lucky: That’s not important right now! What is important is that you’re putting the lives of dozens, maybe even hundreds, of people at risk!
Righteous Smidgen: I don’t believe you. The Stupid said that I had to do this to stop this creature from killing everyone.
Mister Lucky: No, that’s not right at all! The Stupid is an evil, evil being! The Embodiment of Evil, in fact! You can’t trust him any farther than you can throw him!
Righteous Smidgen: Still don’t believe you. The only people here who have earned my trust are the Animajor and the Stupid. Maybe Shoshy Raphael, but only because he seems to like the Animajor. Not you, whoever you are.
Mister Lucky: Really? You trust those guys but not me? What’s wrong with you?!
Righteous Smidgen: Nothing. Just doing what I think is right.
Mister Lucky: Well, it’s not right! In fact, Shoshy Raphael is out there right now trying to make sure that this hellbeast doesn’t kill anymore people!
[The Righteous Smidgen pauses for a moment.]
Righteous Smidgen: Is the Animajor all right?
Mister Lucky: Not gonna lie, he’s probably dead by now.
Righteous Smidgen: Oh no. What have —
Doctor Derangemo: Are you going to be done soon, Mister Lucky?
Mister Lucky: Yes, hold your horses!
Righteous Smidgen: Hold on, Mister Lucky? My father told me about you! You helped the Paragon People a few times, right? You even tried to join them with some lame superhero identity.
Mister Lucky: Oh, God. Yes. Yes! That was me!
Righteous Smidgen: And then, after the war, you took on the identity of Professor Merciless and attacked the world again and again and again, requiring the Paragon People to stop you every single time!
[Agent Villain smirks.]
Agent Villain: Why, Mister Lucky, I had no idea.
Mister Lucky: It needed to be done! How do you know about that, though? Your pop vanished before then!
Righteous Smidgen: The Stupid told me. Why should I trust someone I know to be a super-villain?
Mister Lucky: Oh, for the love of —
Righteous Smidgen: Don’t bother finishing that thought.
Mister Lucky: You try and talk some sense into the kid, Villain!
Righteous Smidgen: Agent Villain? I’ve only heard good things about you.
[Agent Villain grits his teeth at the revelation.]
Mister Lucky: Yes! So please, tell him all the stuff is true about him causing this thing to kill everyone!
Agent Villain: [Half-heartedly] Hey, uh, Righteous Smidgen? It’s all true. [to Mister Lucky] There. Happy now?
Mister Lucky: Almost.
Righteous Smidgen: Well, I have no reason to doubt the word of Agent Villain. Let’s go.
Mister Lucky: Now I’m happy. Come on, let’s blow this pop stand!
[The quartet head back to the ship. Meanwhile, Barry, He Who is Death, is on his way to the tournament.]
Barry: God. So late. So freaking late. It’s all that stupid horse’s fault. Azrael’s going to kill me.
[Barry pauses for a moment and thinks about his last statement, then lets out one loud ha. He looks around him and sees the ebbing and flowing of the realm between life and death.]
Barry: Damn traffic. Why is it so busy here? Going to be so late. Wait a second.
[Barry looks over and sees a figure in a black hooded robe sitting at a table. A line is forming in front of the table. There are several robots in the line, including Tampon-Bot and Perverto.]
Tampon-Bot: I thought I’d be happy dying, but I’m not.
Perverto: Where are the naked angels?
Fake Fred: Next!
Tampon-Bot: That would be me.
Fake Fred: Okay, Barn, off you go.
[Tampon-Bot disappears into Limbo. Fake Fred ticks the name off his list.]
Fake Fred: Next!
Perverto: L-O-L! The great Perverto will be mourned by many!
Fake Fred: Sure thing, Barn.
[Perverto vanishes into Limbo, and Fake Fred ticks the name off his list.]
Barry: I’ve seen enough.
[Barry marches over to the table and seizes the list, only to notice that every single name is some variation of Barney. Fake Fred looks up at him.]
Fake Fred: Why’d you take my list, Bernie? I need that or Osama’s going to be mad at me.
Barry: You’re not a reaper! You shouldn’t be doing this!
Fake Fred: Just doing my job, Boffo. Need to get enough to hit capacity.
Barry: No, it’s not your job! It’s my job! Besides, you’ve been accepting robot souls! We don’t do robot souls, there’s a whole other thing for robots!
Fake Fred: Gee, Barney, you need to calm down.
Barry: [Looking over the paperwork] My name’s not Barney! It’s Barry! And I will not calm down, especially when you’ve apparently been sending everyone to Limbo, which isn’t bad, but it’s not great! They’ll just be back here in an hour wondering what to do.
Fake Fred: It’s my first day, Binky.
Barry: It’s also your last day! Now then, where are you on this list… wait a second. You’re not on this list. You’re not even dead!
Fake Fred: Nope.
Barry: Then get out!
[Barry points at Fake Fred, who vanishes in a bluish flame, returning to the world of the living. The table vanishes as well, but Barry still has his list. Sure enough, all those who Fake Fred sent to Limbo begin to reappear.]
Barry: At least his mess won’t be that hard to fix.
Fake Fred: That sure is good news, Bartholomew.
[Barry slowly turns to see Fake Fred standing before him. Barry looks at his list and the names are starting to correct themselves, with every new name being an actual name. The newest name, however, is Fake Fred. Barry groans.]
Barry: This is going to be the longest shift ever.
[Back at the air submarine, the quartet have boarded and entered the ship’s kitchen.]
Mister Lucky: …and that’s when I found Villain and Derangemo and we set out to stop you from messing with Baggy Jesus O’Malley.
Righteous Smidgen: It doesn’t seem to have done much good.
Mister Lucky: Derangemo said it’d take a little while for his mind to heal. Anyway —
[Suddenly, a shockwave hits the ship.]
Captain Zimball: What the hell was that?
Mister Lucky: We should get to the cockpit!
Diamond Destiny: I’d like to get to your cockipit, loverboy.
Mister Lucky: Given the current circumstances, that’s highly inappropriate.
Doctor Derangemo: Far be it from me to be the voice of reason, but less flirting and more moving, everyone! My precious ship is at stake!
Agent Villain: Right. Uh, me and the Smidgen will be right along.
Mister Lucky: Well, okay. Hurry up, though.
[Mister Lucky, Diamond Destiny, Captain Zimball, and Doctor Derangemo all head towards the cockpit. After they’ve all gone, Agent Villain pulls out a knife.]
Agent Villain: One last thing, Smidgen.
Righteous Smidgen: What’s that?
[Agent Villain smiles. In the cockpit, Doctor Derangemo looks out the window.]
Doctor Derangemo: It would appear that Baggy Jesus O’Malley has transformed into some sort of giant goo monster!
Captain Zimball: So what? We in a submarine.
Doctor Derangemo: Haven’t you listened to a word I said?! It’s an air submarine! It can’t survive in this sort of atmosphere for long! The hull integrity is already being compromised!
Captain Zimball: Well, shit. We’re sinking to the bottom, here.
[As the various challengers outside attack the monstrous form of Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew, the shockwaves are magnified through his gelatinous form, each one causing the ship to rock more and more violently. Doctor Derangemo stands and sways with the ship, humming quietly.]
Mister Lucky: Where’s Villain and Smidgen?
Diamond Destiny: Why do you care about those two when I’m… [Diamond Destiny slinks up to Mister Lucky and grabs his bowtie.] right… [she pulls on the bow-tie, causing her nose to touch Mister Lucky’s.] here?
[Mister Lucky stands up, his bow-tie snapping off. He pulls another one from his jacket pocket and ties it as he exits the cockpit.]
Mister Lucky: I’m going to go check on them! Something rotten is going on!
[As Mister Lucky leaves, Diamond Destiny crosses her arms and puts out her lips in a pout. Her eyes glance over Doctor Derangemo momentarily, but then settle upon Captain Zimball, valiantly trying to stabalize the air submarine. She takes a deep breath and walks over, sitting beside him. He flashes her a quick, worried smile. Mister Lucky enters the kitchen and sees the Righteous Smidgen lying on the ground, a knife in his throat. He pulls the knife out and sighs heavily. In the cockpit, other more supposedly sexy things are happening.]
Doctor Derangemo: We’re going to crash! Hahahaha!! Isn’t this FUN?!
Captain Zimball: No, this shit ain’t fun at all! The hell’s goin’ on out there?!
[Diamond Destiny grips for Captain Zimball’s crotch, but Captain Zimball moves fast enough to avoid her errant hand.]
Captain Zimball: Damn, girl, shit ain’t right. We about to die!
Diamond Destiny: I don’t care! I’ve never had a black man before, and I won’t die without experiencing the joys of one!
Captain Zimball: I ain’t never had a white girl before, neither…
[Neither really caring or knowing that the other one is lying, Captain Zimball looks deep into Diamond Destiny’s glittering green eyes, and she into his dark brown eyes. Without warning, the air submarine dives as Captain Zimball and Diamond Destiny meet in a lusty embrace. Doctor Derangemo stands by and watches for a moment as the two strip naked before him. Doctor Derangemo‘s expression goes from disgusted to blank, then his eyes light up.]
Doctor Derangemo: That reminds me! I need to clean the oven! Off to the kitchen!
[As Doctor Derangemo leaves, he passes an irate Mister Lucky in the hallway, holding a bloody knife. Doctor Derangemo thinks for a moment about what he should think about this, but then remembers that the over needs cleaning. When he reaches the kitchen, he ignores the lifeless body of the Righteous Smidgen and goes right for the stove, only to laugh heartily.]
Doctor Derangemo: Silly me! I forgot the oven was self-cleaning! I’ll go see what Charles and Kraven are up to!
[As Doctor Derangemo goes to follow Mister Lucky, the latter hears the sounds of lasers. Mister Lucky scowls and begins to run, stopping himself before he enters the cockpit, and he walks in silently, and leans agains the wall nonchalantly.]
Mister Lucky: I knew I’d find you here, Agent Villain. Time to put and end to your evil once and for all!
Agent Villain: Man against man, eh? Or are you another clone? Do you even know?
Mister Lucky: I’m the real deal! You forgot this in the kitchen, by the way!
[Mister Lucky throws the knife and it whizzes through the air, right past Agent Villain’s head. Agent Villain doesn’t even flinch, only reaching over and taking the knife, wiping the blood off on Captain Zimball’s discarded coat, and placing it back in its sheath. Mister Lucky stands at the doorway, with Doctor Derangemo standing behind him.]
Doctor Derangemo: Oh, goody! This should be a sight!
[Mister Lucky and Agent Villain walk calmly towards each other, and when they meet in the center of the cockpit, Agent Villain lashes out with a right hook. Mister Lucky blocks, smiles, and jabs at Agent Villain. This move is also blocked, but immediately followed by another quick jab from Mister Lucky. Agent Villain catches his fist and attempts to bring his elbow down upon Mister Lucky’s arm in an attempt to break it. Mister Lucky responds by punching him directly in the face. Agent Villain staggers back, fresh blood trickling from his nose.]
Doctor Derangemo: Boring!
[Agent Villain uses one of the cockpit’s chairs to launch himself at Mister Lucky, who attempts to dodge but is taken down. Agent Villain turns and starts to pummel Mister Lucky, taking his bowler hat and smashing it upon his face, breaking the hat and the glasses in the process. Mister Lucky uses an old martial arts move taught to him by the monks of Uhld to fling Agent Villain against the wall. Both combatants quickly get to their feet. Mister Lucky tosses aside the bowler hat and broken glasses.]
Mister Lucky: You did me a favor there. I hate that hat.
Doctor Derangemo: I’ve seen more violence at the ballet!
[Agent Villain doesn’t respond, instead leaping on top of the table and jumping off of it with a roundhouse kick. Mister Lucky catches his foot in mid-kick and slams Agent Villain against one of the ship’s consoles. Sparks fly from the console.]
Agent Villain: So you’re farsighted then?
Mister Lucky: You honestly think I would make myself immortal but leave my eyesight as less than perfect?
Doctor Derangemo: Oh dear, has this suddenly become “The View”?
[Agent Villain shrugs, and Mister Lucky runs at him, leaping at him, fist ready to punch. Agent Villain easily sidesteps this and Mister Lucky’s fist sinks into the circuitry. Agent Villain steps behind him and begins smashing Mister Lucky’s face into the console. After doing this half a dozen times, Mister Lucky’s face is cut and bleeding, his nose broken, his eyes swollen. Agent Villain, meanwhile, has only a bloodied nose.]
Mister Lucky: Little help, Derangemo?
Agent Villain: The only thing he’ll be helping with is getting rid of your body!
[Agent Villain takes out his knife and tries to stab Mister Lucky in the back, but Doctor Derangemo, after giving it some thought, pulls out an odd-looking gun and points it at the two brawlers. He pulls the trigger, letting loose a blinding flash of light and horrible disorienting noise. Agent Villain plunges his knife into the console and grabs his ears, while Mister Lucky uses the opportunity to free himself from the console and gain higher ground, thin trickles of blood coming from his ears and nose. After his ears have stopped ringing, Agent Villain turns to Mister Lucky, completely forgetting about his knife, and lets loose a primal scream, launching himself at Mister Lucky. As Agent Villain leaps, Doctor Derangemo pulls the trigger again and again, laughing all the while, marveling at the Hiroshima shadows being left on the walls of the air submarine, which is still being bombarded with shockwaves from the outside. The stream of blood from Mister Lucky’s ears has gone from a trickle to a stream, but he powers through, dodging Agent Villain’s attacks and looking around, trying to find something to give him an edge. Suddenly, Agent Villain realizes that he could easily keep the upper hand if he did one thing, and in one smooth movement he pulls out his gun and shoots Doctor Derangemo, who continues laughing and shooting his gun for a few moments until he realizes that he’s been shot.]
Doctor Derangemo: Oh dear.
[Doctor Derangemo falls to the ground and Agent Villain allows himself a small smile. He turns to Mister Lucky, who should have been by the console, but Mister Lucky swings from a beam in the ceiling, knocking Agent Villain on the console. The spy initially begins to laugh, as this ploy is obviously the last desperate chance of a dying man. However, he then feels a sharp pain tear into his back. Mister Lucky stands in front of him.]
Mister Lucky: You keep leaving your knife lying around, Villain. This way, you’ll never lose it again.
[Agent Villain looks down and sees the sharp, thin point of his knife sticking through his stomach. He is initially shocked, but then smiles and starts to laugh maniacally, his skin drying out and hair becoming stringy, almost like cobwebs. Soon, no more sound comes from Agent Villain’s withered body, now looking like it’s been a corpse for a very long time. As the head slumps over, an earpiece falls out of its ear. Mister Lucky picks it up.]
Mister Lucky: Should have known he’d send a clone. Looks like you got the last laugh this time, Villain.
[Mister Lucky coughs up some blood and sits down in the cockpit. Outside, he sees Shoshy Raphael, Baggy Satan, and Edwin Cloudstar flying upwards, Edwin Cloudstar carrying a Purple Lamp bomb. He knows that, between the injuries sustained during the fight and this new development, he doesn’t have long to live.]
Mister Lucky: Glad Derangemo brought the Atlantean gun. Really came through in the end there, Doc.
[As Mister Lucky salutes Doctor Derangemo‘s body, he notices that his own hand is rapidly becoming dried and withered. His unswollen eye goes wide.]
Mister Lucky: I’m a clone? But… but for how long? Dear God, for how long — !
[Mister Lucky’s now dried and withered body slumps over onto the console. Soon after, his body is unceremoniously pushed out of the chair by Doctor Derangemo, sparks flying from his chest.]
Doctor Derangemo: Tsk tsk. Clones are so unreliable, but robot doubles —
[In Castle Valerium, the real Doctor Derangemo sits at a table, eating a sandwich and sitting at what appears to be a heavily modified Virtual Boy, wearing a headset with microphone.]
Doctor Derangemo: — robot doubles will last forever if you take care of them. Sadly, your time has come.
[The robot Doctor Derangemo takes the wheel of the air submarine and pilots a direct course towards Baggy Jesus O’Mally the Jew’s damaged brain. As the ship moves forward, Doctor Derangemo pushes a set of colored lights in a sequence, not unlike the game “Simon”, and the self-destruct sequence is activated. As the air submarine reaches the brain, so does Edwin Cloudstar, and the ship self-destructs as the Purple Lamp bomb goes off. With this final act, the ship cauterizes the brain’s wounds, and coupled with the explosion of the Purple Lamp bomb, puts Baggy Jesus O’Malley the Jew on the fast track to recovery. Will it be enough to stop the rampaging giant from destroying the rest of the challengers? Tune in tomorrow to find out.]

Posted in March Meekrat Madness 2010 | Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

MMM Event #85: Resolution

Posted by meekrat on July 16, 2010

[Both Baggy Satan and Leo Leopolous race to their respective targets, Baggy Satan choosing the Megadome of Deity Guy and Leo Leopolous choosing the Hippodrome of Lamp Prime. Inside of both, the heroes and neutrals stand around in their own cliques, talking about various items of interest. In the Megadome, Baggy Satan places his back flat against the hallway wall and peeks around the corner. Baggy Satan overhears the champions of Deity Guy discussing their respective conspiracy theories.]
Tom Phillipson: So that’s why I think it’s entirely possible.
Gerald: Yes, you’ve explained this a few times already. It still doesn’t mean that China doesn’t exist.
Tom Phillipson: But where is it? Sure, you can point it out on a map, but have you ever been there?
Gerald: [sighing] No.
Tom Phillipson: Then how do you know it exists?!
Gerald: Because — damn it!
Bahige: Ha ha, he’s got you there, effendi.
Tom Phillipson: And who are you?
Bahige: I’m Bahige.
Tom Phillipson: Uh huh. Let me guess: you’re a mummy.
[Bahige first looks down at his lamp, then at Tom Phillipson, then at his lamp again.]
Bahige: No, I’m a genie.
Tom Phillipson: Oh, sweet. Can you get me an iced tea?
Bahige: Sure. It’ll cost you a wish, though.
Tom Phillipson: Cool.
Gerald: Hey! I want an iced tea!
Bahige: Too bad you used up your wishes.
[Gerald clenches his fists and growls angrily. Baggy Satan shakes his head and kneels down, pulling copious amounts of C4 from his pack. Meanwhile, at the Megadome of Lamp Prime, Leo Leopolous stalks his opponents from the shadows.]
Player One: And that’s how I saved everyone from the Spanish Ninja Robot.
Player Four: [giggling] That story isn’t true.
Player One: Sure is. Turns out you have to shoot them in the head, because that’s where their processors are.
Player Four: [smiling] I missed this. Just the two of us.
Player One: [smiling back] Yeah. Pretty nice, huh?
[Player One moves to put his arm around Player Four when he hears the low growl from behind the stands. He stops, turns, and squints.]
Player Four: What’s wrong?
Player One: Nothing. I —
[Leo Leopolous jumps out from behind the stands, an AK-47 in his mouth. A muffled growl escapes his jaws as he takes aim at Player One and pulls the trigger with his tongue.]
Leo Leopolous: [mechanical voice] Kill agents!
[Meanwhile, back at the Coliseum of The Stupid…]
Red Scare: How do you think they’re doing?
The Stupid: Who?
Red Scare: Baggy Satan and Leo Leopolous. You sent them off some time ago. They’ve probably wreaked considerable havoc by now. The camps of Lamp Prime and Deity Guy have probably been thrown into chaos.
The Stupid: Did you just say… chaos?
Red Scare: I did. What of it?
The Stupid: Nothing… nothing at all. Just reminded of someone. I’m sure Baggy Satan and Leo are doing a wonderful job.
[As the charges go off around the Megadome of Deity Guy, chaos reigns. Though champions such as Tampon-Bot and Gerald try to keep cool heads amidst the tumbling rubble and loud explosions, it doesn’t take long for fear to take control of the other, more easily excitable champions, such as Brachiosaur and Amorphous Blob:. Among the cracking stone and spitting flames, the champions crawl over each other in an attempt to find a safe hiding place — of which there is seemingly none. Among it all, Deity Guy sits, his eye trained on the carnage. Though intoxicated beyond what can be considered healthy, Deity Guy feels anger and the deepest outrage. In the Hippodrome of Lamp Prime, the picture isn’t all that different. Though the heroes try to remain calm, there is no place to hide from this silent sniper who pops out of the shadows, fires his automatic weapon or throws his grenade, and ducks back into the darkness before one can even get a proper glimpse of him. By the end of it, Lamp Prime and his heroes, some wounded and some still healthy but a bit shaken, sit in the rubble. Though once sad, Lamp Prime can feel his rage grow — and, as though responding to that rage, his light brightens. From outside of each arena, Baggy Satan and Leo Leopolous look upon the chaos and grin. In a puff of smoke, they stand before the Stupid once again.]
The Stupid: Welcome home, my good and faithful servants. Though I appreciate your hard work, I do hold a soft spot in my heart for a champion who decides to go after Lamp Prime, my most hated enemy. Thus, it is my decision that Leo Leopolous has won this event.
Baggy Satan: But —
[The Stupid flares up, his fire lashing out at Baggy Satan and singing the stubble on his red cheek.]
The Stupid: Enough! The Stupid has spoken!
[In a puff of smoke, both Leo Leopolous and Baggy Satan are transported to the Coliseum break room down below. The Stupid’s maniacal laughter rings through the halls, reaching even their location. Both Leo Leopolous and Baggy Satan shudder.]

Posted in March Meekrat Madness 2010 | Tagged: , , , , , , , | Leave a Comment »

MMM Event #85: Baggy Satan VS Leo Leopolous

Posted by meekrat on July 12, 2010

[Leo Leopolous and Baggy Satan stand around in the center of the newly upgraded Coliseum of the Stupid, looking at the ground. Leo Leopolous opens his mouth to growl, but only a yawn escapes. This causes his riding lion to yawn. Baggy Satan pulls an antique tarnished brass watch from his pocket and opens the cover. He concentrates on the ivory watch face and dirty gold Roman numerals, trying his best not to yawn as well. Five, six, seven, eight, and yawn. Baggy Satan grimaces through his yawn, a yawn that in turn causes Leo Leopolous to yawn. The sound of an explosion rips through the yawns of Leo Leopolous and Baggy Satan, who twirl around in such surprise and with such force that they almost fall to the ground. Standing before them is the Stupid. He is engulfed in flames and his eyes look like blazing coals shining in murky darkness. Scorch marks riddle the ground over where the Stupid hovers, and he is laughing maniacally at his startled champions.]
Baggy Satan: Blimey, guv! Ya almost gave me a ‘eart attack, you did!
Leo Leopolous: [mechanical voice] Honey! Honey!
The Stupid: Mwa ha ha ha! Aww… did the loud noise frighten the poor little babies?
Leo Leopolous: [mechanical voice] I like the taste of honey.
Baggy Satan: More or less.
[The Stupid flails flaming tentacles at Leo Leopolous and Baggy Satan, getting just close enough to make them jump back but staying far enough away to keep from setting them aflame.]
The Stupid: Ha ha! Good! Fear is good! It builds character! So guess what? Your next event is to strike fear! Fear in the hearts of the champions of the other Embodiments! Fear — and weapons!
[A table appears in a puff of smoke. Upon the table are various weapons, including assault rifles, knives, and explosive devices.]
Baggy Satan: [cowering] But, uh, guv, ain’t this event a little —
The Stupid: [flailing more flaming tentacles at his combatants] No! It’s a lot! Now pick your weapons and storm the arenas of Lamp Prime and Deity Guy! Whoever does the most damage wins! Now GO!
[The Stupid spits out flames with those last words. Both Leo Leopolous and Baggy Satan hurry to the table, select their items, and run out the door as quickly as possible. The Stupid’s booming maniacal laughter fills the Coliseum.]

Learn more about the characters:
Baggy Satan
Leo Leopolous

Posted in March Meekrat Madness 2010 | Tagged: , , | Leave a Comment »

MMM Event #74: Resolution

Posted by meekrat on July 8, 2010

[The Red Scare appears in an alleyway in Godonastan. He looks around, sees people going about their business and sits down on a crate.]
Red Scare: Let’s see. If this match will be based upon body count, then either I have to get to killing or figure out a better way to kill a wide amount of people. I admit that killing some innocents by my lonesome is quite appealing, I think using my intellect is the better bet. Now then, how can I kill a wide variety of people?
[Suddenly, a man steps from the shadows and holds an AK-47 to the Red Scare’s head.]
Man: Who are you, outsider? Are you… one of them?
Red Scare: I have no idea what you’re talking about, boy, and furthermore —
[With a quickness that belies his scientist nature, the Red Scare stands up and cuts off the man’s hand with his crab claw.]
Red Scare: I was told this place was in a constant state of civil unrest. What if I told you I was sent to lead you and your people into a new golden age, or barring that, a new age of being able to know who your leader was going to be day-to-day?
[The man, who has not stopped screaming in pain, continues to scream in pain. Such is the situation in Godonastan that no one stops to see what’s going on.]
Red Scare: Buck up, boy! Take me to the other men in your little brigade. I will lead you and this country into a new age! The age of the Red Scare!
[The man is still screaming and bleeding all over the place. The Red Scare sighs and picks up the gun.]
Red Scare: I was so hoping to avoid this, but if you won’t be helpful, I have no choice.
[The Red Scare uses his normal hand to point the gun at the man’s head.]
Man: Stop! I will… oh god, the pain… I will help you.
Red Scare: Excellent! Take me to your leader, then. And don’t worry about the hand, once I’m in power, I’ll graft a sea anemone to your arm. I hear they’re very fashionable this time of year.
[Meanwhile, Baggy Satan appears in the crowded marketplace, causing a horse to rear and begin running. This sets off a chain reaction that knocks over several market stalls and causes a once well-stacked pile of barrels to disassemble and begin rolling, spooking a herd of cows who start stampeding, killing all in their path. Baggy Satan stands and watches the carnage ensue.]
Baggy Satan: Bloody hell.
[Baggy Satan retreats into a hovel where a family is trying to eat dinner.]
Baggy Satan: Oh. Don’t mind me, just passin’ through.
Father: Are you… are you a demon?
Baggy Satan: That I may. Why?
Father: Our country has been lost for so long, and our prophecies claim that our next leader will be sent by God! Or, at least, a god. Satan is a god, no?
Baggy Satan: Not strictly speakin’, he ain’t, but I see what yer gettin’ at. An’ I was sent by someone a tinch godly.
Father: Then the prophecy is fulfilled! Come, quickly, to the palace!
Mother: It is too dangerous!
Father: A demon is on my side! I shall be fine.
[Baggy Satan and the man walk into the street, empty except for the blood and gore of those trampled. They walk down the empty street to the palace, where the once spooked cows are now grazing, their hooves wet with blood. They enter the palace and the man pulls out an AK-47. He shoots it into the air.]
Father: Hear me! Our new leader has arrived!
[The assembled men, all swarthy and whatnot, look at the newcomers. Baggy Satan waves sheepishly.]
Baggy Satan: ‘Ello.
[One of the men rises, dressed in a stupid hat.]
Man in Stupid Hat: What gives him the right? My father was the Grand Vizier of Tyranno Al-Childly, and this nation belongs to me by right!
Father: You and your men have taken the once proud nation of Godonastan and made a mockery of it! This man, this demon, was sent by a higher power to relive you of your command. He will smite you with his hellfire should you not relinquish the throne!
Man in Stupid Hat: I should like to see him try!
Baggy Satan: Hey now, I ain’t allowed to use my ‘ellfire at all.
Man in Stupid Hat: You see? He is nothing!
[Baggy Satan waves his hand, accidentally nudging the man next to him. The man’s gun goes off, richocheting off the metal trim on a staircase, and hits a rope holding up an ornate chandelier. The rope snaps, causing the chandelier to fall. The man in the stupid hat looks up and sees it falling.]
Man in Stupid Hat: Oh shi —
[The chandelier crashes atop the man and kills several of his closest advisors. The rest of the men look at Baggy Satan nervously and place their guns at his feet, kneeling reverently.]
Father: You have done it! You are our new leader, and when word of your deeds spreads throughout the nation, none will oppose you!
Baggy Satan: Blimey.
[As night falls, Baggy Satan settles into his new palace, where men are cleaning up the mess. The Red Scare is speaking with a rag-tag group of freedom fighters, and once day breaks, a runner comes in, out of breath.]
Runner: Red Scare! Power changed hands once more in the night! They say he came and destroyed the marketplace and then went to the palace and smote the former leader and his men!
Red Scare: Hm. I have a sneaking suspicion that this new leader is someone I know, but still, a prime time to snatch the throne for myself! Come, men, send word to the other cells. We attack!
[Within the hour, the Red Scare marches in front of men with guns, a hundred strong. At the palace…]
Father: Great Baggy Satan, a man with a crab-claw advances upon us with an army!
Baggy Satan: Cor! Shoulda known he’d try somethin’ like this. All right, let’s go out there and I’ll ‘ave a word wit’ him or two.
[Red Scare and Baggy Satan meet in the palace courtyard, each flanked by two strong men and backed by armies of men with guns.]
Red Scare: I knew it was you. Stand aside, I’ve an army to decimate and a country to take.
Baggy Satan: I ain’t doin’ nothin’ of the sort. You stand down and what.
Red Scare: It would appear that we have ourselves a good old-fashioned stand-off, then. Let’s see who flinches first.
[Suddenly, the pair vanish in a puff of smoke, with the two armies facing each other.]
Father: Is this… is this all the men we have left in the nation?
Man: I think so.
Father: Well. We should probably stop killing each other, then.
Man: Probably.
[The man is shot down in a hail of gunfire, along with the first rank of the army. The rest all flee.]
Father: Perhaps later. For now, I claim the throne!
[The father is shot, and the cycle continues. At the Arena of the Stupid, the Red Scare and Baggy Satan appear in a puff of smoke. Baggy Satan blinks.]
Red Scare: Ha! You flinched first! Hold on, where are… oh. Damn.
The Stupid: Well then, you two did quite well, I hear! At least, one of you did. Red Scare, you didn’t kill a single person.
Red Scare: My moment of triumph was at hand when you brought us back.
The Stupid: Of course, of course. Isn’t that always the way? But you, Baggy Satan. Oh yes. Oh my, yes. You started off by killing throngs of innocent people, then you went to the palace and claimed power for yourself by killing at least a dozen more! Very well done! I didn’t know you had it in you.
Baggy Satan: I didn’t, either.
The Stupid: Of course, of course. Anyway, you win! As for you, Red Scare, you better work on your game. You’re getting soft.
Red Scare: Of course.
The Stupid: Anyway, congratulations, Baggy Satan! You go to the next round!

Posted in March Meekrat Madness 2010 | Tagged: , , | Leave a Comment »

MMM Event #74: Baggy Satan VS Red Scare

Posted by meekrat on June 24, 2010

The Stupid: I feel fantastic! How about you?
Red Scare: I feel no better or worse than usual. I do have a question, however.
The Stupid: Shoot!
Red Scare: When are we releasing Captain Depresso? It’s only a matter of time before someone becomes suspicious.
The Stupid: We can’t let him go yet. He’ll let everyone know we’ve got that Smidgen guy here. Anyway, your event. You’re against this guy —
[Baggy Satan appears in a puff of smoke.]
Baggy Satan: Wot’s all this, then?
The Stupid: You’re up first!
Baggy Satan: I won’t have to watch more of that soddin’ play, will I?
The Stupid: Oh, no. Some tortures are too much even for the damned. No, what I have in mind for the pair of you involves strategy and cunning! In the seventies, the agents of CAST went on an assignment to unseat the child dictator, Tyranno Al-Childly. Since then, his entire country has been in a state of civil unrest. So what I want you two to do is go there and just create all sorts of chaos.
Red Scare: How would you even begin to score that?
The Stupid: Simple! Bodycount!
Baggy Satan: Hold a sec, you want us to go there and start killin’ blokes?
The Stupid: If you want to. Only thing is, you can’t use any of your current resources. By that, I mean no powers. No armies of mutant freaks. That sort of thing. You’re starting from the ground up!
Red Scare: How long do we have to do this?
The Stupid: Make an afternoon of it! In fact, make it an overnight thing! I’ll be back to get you at this time tomorrow!
[Baggy Satan and Red Scare disappear in a puff of smoke.]

Learn more about the challengers:
Baggy Satan
Red Scare

Posted in March Meekrat Madness 2010 | Tagged: , , | Leave a Comment »

MMM Event #50: Resolution

Posted by meekrat on May 31, 2010

[The psychiatrist runs a cursory series of tests, from ink blots to word association. After taking copious notes and marking that both combatants are, indeed, sane, he leads Baggy Satan and Honky Kong to their chairs.]
Psychiatrist: Okay! So, all you have to do is strap yourselves in while I step into this soundproof chamber, here…
Baggy Satan: Ain’t you stayin’ fer the show?
Psychiatrist: Haha, no! If I did that, I would no longer be qualified to test your sanity! Have fun!
[Baggy Satan and Honky Kong look at each other and swallow hard. Metal shackles clamp their wrists to the chair arms.]
Honky Kong: This doesn’t bode well. This doesn’t bode well at all!
[Behind them, the hissing of rusted wheels over threadbare carpeting can be heard. It stops right behind Honky Kong, who is startled to see Doctor Derangemo’s face invading his personal space.]
Doctor Derangemo: So you’re the one who’s stolen my little Murgatroyd’s heart, eh?
Honky Kong: Oh my God! You scared the meshugana out of me! I almost — wait, did you say –?
Doctor Derangemo: [sticks his finger in Honky Kong’s face] My little girl is very fragile! A young lady! You had better treat her well, or so help me, there will be Hell to pay! Hell in the form of a shotgun! With a rope connected to the trigger! And the trigger, therefore, connected to me, albeit vicariously through the rope!
Honky Kong: [tries to free himself from the cuffs] Please, no…!
[Doctor Derangemo kisses Murgatroyd on the head and flips the switch. He then makes his way to the exit.]
Doctor Derangemo: You two be good, now.
Murgatroyd: Commencing six hour kidney punching session.
[Murgatroyd’s metal boxing gloves plunge themselves into Honky Kong’s fleshy sides. Honky Kong cries out in agony, begging for someone to him.]
Baggy Satan: It could be worse, guv. We could ‘ave ta watch ALL o’ Rock Opera.
[The curtains part and the spotlight shines upon a man in an open leather vest. His hair is long an greasy, and his jeans are ripped at the knees. In the background, photographs of several famous peacemakers such as Ghandi and Mother Theresa flash across a white projection screen, only to catch flame and burn.]
Maynard Burton: Far off in the future, the world is caught in most righteous insanity! It is a time when everything, illegal or not, has been outlawed by forces most heinous! It is a dystopia where rock and roll runs rampant through the streets, for the only law is the rock and roll that runs! There is no peace, there is no freedom! This is the one and only — Rock Society!
[Two others, both scantily-clad women in leopard print thongs and bras, cartwheel onto the stage as images of mushroom clouds, cows in beef slaughterhouses, hungry Ethiopian children, and elk having sex flash in rapid succession across the projection screen.]
Maynard Burton: This is the tale of how one man stood up against the Rock Society! This is the tale of how one man showed his love for freedom! For safeness! And for rock and roll!
[Baggy Satan opens his mouth to ask how a person fighting against rock and roll can somehow also fight for it, but closes it, realizing that he’s not likely to get an answer anyway. Maynard Burton breaks into song and flails his arms wildly, as though to mimic the playing of a guitar — which he doesn’t actually have.]
Maynard Burton: [singing] There used to be peace and harmony,

Before this Rock Society.

Everyone could live and love free

Before this Rock Society.

Take it all away from me,

Don’t want this Rock Society!

Want less rock in society

In this… uh… Rock Society!
Baggy Satan: Did ‘e jus rhyme “society” wif “society”?
Honky Kong: [still being punched] Ow! I don’t know! I’m too busy trying to gauge the damage being done to my internal organs by this robot’s metal fists! Owww!!
Baggy Satan: ‘Haps ya should pay more attention, then, ‘cause ‘e jus did.
Maynard Burton: [singing and beating imaginary drumsticks against imaginary drums] No need for piety

In this Rock Society!
[A female stage tech runs onto the stage with a slice of pie. The rear projection screen displays a large picture of a pie upon it. Maynard takes a bite and looks out into the audience, wide-eyed and chewing exaggeratedly.]
Maynard Burton: Mmm, this banana cream piety is delicious!
Baggy Satan: ‘ey, now! Tha’s not even what “piety” means!
Maynard Burton: [singing] There’s not a time for diety

When you’re eating in a Rock Society!
Baggy Satan: “Diety” ain’t even a word! What’s wrong wif you?!
Maynard Burton: [singing] There was no sobriety

While writing “Rock Society”!
Baggy Satan: ‘at much is bloody obvious. If I ‘ad tomatoes, I would throw ‘em at you, I would, ‘till me arms fell off!
Maynard Burton: [singing] The actors want silence-ity

When singing Rock Society!
Baggy Satan: ‘at’s not a word, and it don’t rhyme, neither!
Maynard Burton: Can’t worship any deity

When living in this Rock Soceity
Baggy Satan: Oh, fer — ya altered “society” to rhyme with “deity”? Twenny-seven minutes was too long! Too long!
Maynard Burton: [singing] And that’s why there’s only lunacy

In this Rock. So. Ci. Eh. Tyyy!
Baggy Satan: Oh, thank God ‘is song is ovah! I was startin’ ta feel like the punch-line a’ some cosmic joke!
Murgatroyd: Continuing kidney-tenderizing.
Honky Kong: [still getting punched] Oww!! Don’t say punch-line! OWW!!
[The curtains close. Movement can be heard and bodies can be seen stepping into the curtain as the “scene” is changed. Less than thirty seconds after the curtains closed, the curtains open to reveal another actor — a tanned Caucasian man with an afro wearing round sunglasses, an unbuttoned silk shirt, and black slacks. He is standing near the edge of the stage. Three crates are behind him. Upon one crate sits Maynard Burton, this time wearing a tie-dyed bandana on his head. Across from his sits one of the leopard-thonged girls. The afro-ed actor places his opened hand palm-downward to his brow, looks out into the audience of three, and speaks his lines.]
Donny James Rio: [in a high-pitched squeal] Wow! Look at all the people who showed up to our rebellion!
[Baggy Satan turns in his seat as best he can to try to catch a glimpse of “all the people”.]
Donny James Rio: [pointing at Honky Kong] There’s you! [points at Baggy Satan] And you! [points at Murgatroyd] And you! [points back at Baggy Satan] And you! Wow! Welcome to the revolution!
Baggy Satan: ‘ey! You counted me twice!
Donny James Rio: Looks like I missed one! [points again at Baggy Satan]
Baggy Satan: Are you bloody mental or somefin’? Ya jus’ counted me again!
Donny James Rio: [points at Baggy Satan] Wow! Another one just showed up!
Baggy Satan: Ain’t no one here me an’ the girl an’ the robot!
Donny James Rio: Wow! By the look of all the people here, there must be a lot of anxiety — over this Rock Society!
Baggy Satan: [struggles with his cuffs] I swear ta bloody Christ that if you sing tha’ song one more time, I will ‘unt you down until you are dead! Twenny-seven minutes? I don’t know how ya lasted twenny-seven seconds!
Maynard Burton: So, why’d you bring us here, wise old fool of rock and roll?
Donny James Rio: [takes a seat on one of the crates] Think about it, man. Before the Rock Society came to town, everything was great! Rock and roll was everywhere, but people were free. And there were these countries, right? You had the United States, Iran, America, Illinois, West Korea, Asia — all kinds of countries! And there were never any wars! There was no famine, there was no food, and there was no rock and roll, man!
Baggy Satan: Am… am I in Hell? Is this really Hell? Was someone playin’ a trick on me and this is truly Hell? You can come on out fellas, the joke is ova’! Ha ha ha! HA! HA HA! [struggles at his cuffs]
Donny James Rio: But that ain’t the best of it! There was also this dude, a real cool musician named —
Woman in Thong: You mean him?!
Donny James Rio: That’s right! Mister Lucky!
[An old man in a grey suit steps out from stage right. He has a handlebar moustache, wears a monocle, and sips tea from a cup.]
Actor as Mister Lucky: [speaking in an obviously faked British accent] Pip-pop, old chaps. Tiddly-winks and all that — JAZZ!
[The old man pulls a saxophone out of a case that is slid to him from across the stage. He presses the instrument to his lips and starts playing. A cacophony of misplayed notes hiss forth from the accursed horn while the three other actors on stage dance around like they’re having seizures.]
Baggy Satan: That’s ain’t what Mister Lucky is like at all! I know Mister Lucky!! ARGH!!!
Honky Kong: [still getting punched] I don’t know which pain is worse!! Ow, please stop!! Both of you!!!
[The curtain falls as the music is still played for another twenty minutes. Once it stops, a satisfying minute or two go by in relative silence, the only sound being the contact of metal fists upon bruised Space Ape flesh. The door to the psychiatrist’s soundproof chamber opens. Before he exits, he listens for a moment to make sure that the selection has, indeed, ended. He steps out and walks over to both Honky Kong and Baggy Satan, frees them, and flips the switch on Murgatroyd, turning her off.]
Psychiatrist: [pulling out his notebook] So, what did you two think of the play?
Baggy Satan: Tha’s the worst play I’ve ever had the displeasure of seein’. It makes me want ta kill babies and rape trees. I need a good drinka bleach, I do.
Psychiatrist: I see. Well —
Baggy Satan: I really want ta burn somefin’ down. Somefin’ wif a lot a helpless dolphins, maybe. Or one a them highrise homeless shelters.
Psychiatrist: I don’t think those exist.
Baggy Satan: I didn’t think a ‘orrible piece a crap like this coulda existed, but it does.
Psychiatrist: [jots down some notes] And how about you, Mr. Kong?
Honky Kong: [hunched over, grabbing his sides] Ah, I’m, uh, in a lotta pain. Lotta pain. But I was able to watch the play. Didn’t help with the pain, only made it worse.
Psychiatrist: I see.
Honky Kong: I was wondering one thing, though. How does the play end?
Psychiatrist: [slowly puts down his pen] What did you just say?
Honky Kong: I, uh, wanted to know how it ends. The play, I mean.
Psychiatrist: Hmm.
[The psychiatrist walks over to his desk and presses a button beneath it.]
Honky Kong: I mean, I’m just curious. You know. I didn’t actually like it, but just wondered if…
[Honky Kong turns around as he hears the door to the theater open behind him. Two large men in white coats approach his seat.]
Honky Kong: …if, uh, anyone knows the ending. At all. Just because I’m curious.
[The two white-coated men walk up to Honky Kong’s seat and stand in front of him, glowering down at him.]
Honky Kong: Are you two here to tell me the ending?
Orderly: Oh, we’re here to deliver an ending, all right.
[Both men grab Honky Kong by the arms and quickly drag him out of the theater. As the doors oscillate, the men can be seen struggling to place Honky Kong in a straight-jacket. From out of nowhere, the Stupid appears and floats up to Baggy Satan.]
The Stupid: Well, you survived. How does it feel?
Baggy Satan: It feels like liquid murder’s been poured in my ears and I only want ta hear the screams of widows in pain to get tha’ bloody Rock Society song out a me ‘ead. What makes me saner ‘an the whiney monkey?
The Stupid: We knew you were sane because you didn’t want to know the ending to the play. Only a madman would actually want to talk about the show after it’s over. So, though the price may have been high, you proceed to the next round.
Baggy Satan: If proceedin’ involves me watchin’ anymore a Rock Opera, I forfeit.
The Stupid: It doesn’t. But prepare for trials far worse to come.
Baggy Satan: ‘at’s impossible at this point, guv.

Posted in March Meekrat Madness 2010 | Tagged: , , , , | Leave a Comment »

MMM Event #50: Baggy Satan VS Honky Kong

Posted by meekrat on May 24, 2010

The Stupid: All right. The second round. Yessir. Second.
[Crickets chirp as a tumbleweed rolls by the Stupid, Baggy Satan, and Honky Kong.]
The Stupid: [yelling] And where the hell are my contenders for this first event?!
Baggy Satan: Right ‘ere, guv.
Honky Kong: Ah jeez, I can’t handle all the screaming! I forfeit.
The Stupid: Oh, no you don’t. You can’t forfeit. I won’t lose this year’s games because my champions lack follow-through.
[A giant spotlight appears in the middle of the arena, illuminating a stage and several seats. A table sits by the seats and behind that table is a non-descript man in a suit. On top of the table sits his briefcase.]
The Stupid: Now, yours will be a test of endurance.
Honky Kong: I don’t think I can take another beating. My constitution’s still weak from my date, and I’m still urinating blood, even. I forfeit.
The Stupid: No! For the last time, there will be no forfeiting! And just to make sure that you don’t throw the fight, you’ll be strapped to your chairs the entire time!
Baggy Satan: Strapped to our- ’ey, what’ll we be endurin’?
The Stupid: I’m glad you asked. You two will be enduring selected scenes from a musical.
Honky Kong: [placing his right hand over his heart] Thank goodness, I was afraid it would be something horrible!
The Stupid: Oh, but it’s not just any musical. No, it most certainly is not. It’s a little piece of trash entitled Rock Opera and it lasted a grand total of twenty-seven minutes on Broadway. You two will be obligated via shackles to voluntarily sit and watch the scenes as acted by some of the musical’s cast. After the abridged musical is over, you will both be given psychological evaluations. Whoever has not been driven insane by the play will win the event.
Honky Kong: Ah jeez, a psych test? I always get so nervous before tests.
Baggy Satan: ’ow’ll you know we ain’t in-sane already, then?
The Stupid: You’ll be forced to take a psychological evaluation before the event, as well. And, seeing as the doc is ready, there’s no point in procrastinating anymore than we already have. Once you’ve seen the psychologist, take a seat and the event will begin.
[Both Baggy Satan and Honky Kong nod. They stand facing the Stupid, blankly staring at him.]
The Stupid: Well, what are you waiting for? Go see him! Now!

Learn more about the challengers:
Baggy Satan
Honky Kong

Posted in March Meekrat Madness 2010 | Tagged: , , | Leave a Comment »