Tales of the Parodyverse

Post By

J. Jonah Jerkson
Sun Nov 07, 2004 at 01:22:34 am EST
Subject
The Baroness, Part 10. A visit with despair
[ Reply ] [ New ] [ Email To Friend ] [ Printable ] [ Tales of the Parodyverse ]
Next In Thread >>


The Baroness, Part 10
A visit with despair

[A few lines from previous episodes:]

"You keep the gold, but you wire all but 10% of its value to this account in the Caymans, Akiko."

. . . .

Elizabeth von Zemo's rented limousine pulled up in front of an undistinguished townhouse in Dullard's Corner. Looking out the tinted windows, the Baroness grumbled to herself. "Luxury townhouse? It's smaller than Akiko's bathroom!”

. . . .

Visionary and Elizabeth screamed at the same moment. "My shoes are on fire!"
"My coat!"

. . . .

Sitting on a nearby doorstep, wrapped in fire blankets, Visionary and Elizabeth sipped coffee from the ambulance driver's thermos. "Welcome to Dullard's Corner," he wheezed. “I'm Visionary."

"Elizabeth," she mumbled. "And, er, Kerry's your daughter?"

"No, no, no, she's a friend's . . . let's just say that I'm her temporary foster parent."

"You poor man."

. . . .

“Silicone Sally. Bite from radioactive spider during lightning storm right after a boob job while working in a lab where an accident with ‘N-rays’ occurred converted her entire body into pure silicone rubber. Bounces a lot, but can change shape and stretch somewhat. Vulnerable to ultraviolet light and solvents. No prior experience. With some luck, I could mold her into the right kind of minion, ha ha.”

. . . .

With a low growl, the water cannon shifted lower and changed its azimuth, propelling Kerry backwards on her derriere towards the door of Visionary’s condo and then washing her up the steps. . . . Elizabeth von Zemo, eyes sparkling, strolled away toward her front door, humming “A Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight.”

. . . .

“She’s eee-vill, I tell yeh, eee-vill!” Kerry tended to emphasize her Irish accent under stress.

“Who’s that?” inquired Samantha Bonnington, the Fashion Accessory.

“He, he, har, har, snort, her new neighbor, some blonde (huh, huh, huh) named Elizabeth,” chortled Ham-Boy.

“I tell yeh, she’s not some dumb blondie. She’s a tool of the devvil!”

. . . .

“You’re going to use Visionary to attack von Zemo?”

“No, Visionary-bot. He’s an NTU-150 creation. I’ve been using almost all of my powers keeping him from catastrophic malfunction for two weeks now. Why do you think I’ve been so strung-out and nasty?”

. . . .

“No, that’s Silicone Sally, the Baroness’s assistant. Eee-eek! Ook-ah, ook-ah!” remarked the simian, hoping to catch her eye.

Visionary-bot was already out of his chair, heading for the desk, gallant reflex apparent. “(buzz, buzz, buzz, click zorch-buzz) Are you the (zorch) receptionist? (click, click, clickety click, zorch spreeee). My name, name, name (b-zattt) is Vizh, (spree, buzz, clicketyzorch) Vizh, Visionar---“

The warehouse erupted with a massive explosion.

[And now, back to our story:]

PhantomHwk Memorial Hospital, Parodiopolis

There was a knock on the door of the semi-private hospital room, deep in the basement. Wan sunlight trickled in through a small window high up in one wall, while a tinge of mildew struggled to break through an overpowering scent of Lysol. The bed and hospital equipment in the room had seen better years.

“May I come in?” an unsympathetic man’s voice rasped.

“I suppose,” moaned Elizabeth Zemo. Her left leg was in a cast to the knee and she was extensively bandaged over the rest of her body.

A perky nurse’s aide and a stout, grim man in a dark gray suit made their way over to Elizabeth’s bed and sat in the two chairs facing her. “I’m Allan Harsch of the hospital controller’s office, and this is Susie Sheltie, who’s here to observe.”

“I really don’t feel up for a long visit, now,” Elizabeth murmured.

“It won’t be long at all,” the man assured. “We just want to find out what medical insurance you’re carrying. The card in your purse from the University of Michigan has been cancelled.”

“Well, if that’s not valid, I guess I don’t have any insurance,” replied the Baroness.

“So you are definitely uninsured?” Mr. Harsch’s voice had lost any quality of compassion, and he was looking at her as if she were some type of salamander that had walked in and commandeered one of his beds.

“All I know is that one moment I was walking toward the rest room, and the next, there was some sort of huge explosion with something like a huge rubber doll bouncing toward me.”

“A doll?” asked Susie. “Oh, how cute!”

“See how cute it is when it hits you like a tractor-trailer on Interstate 666,” Elizabeth groaned.

“Well, this will not do, Miss . . . Zemo?”

Elizabeth was about to snap, “That’s ‘Your Excellency, Baroness Zemo,’” back at the suit, but held her tongue.

“You will have to make arrangements for immediate payment of your hospital bill. To date, you owe us and our doctors . . . (he pulled a long printout from his briefcase and riffled through the pages) $38,364.86 since you arrived here about six hours ago.”

“Thirty-eight grand for a cast, some bandages and six hours in this dungeon of a hospital room?” Elizabeth was rapidly gaining consciousness thanks to her rising adrenalin.

“Well, you don’t get any of the discounts the insurance companies do. Now if you will just sign this agreement, I can leave for now.” He handed her a clipboard with a multiple page agreement in fine print.

Elizabeth rapidly skimmed as much as she could. “’Assignment of all assets, expectancies, income, gifts, liquidated and unliquidated claims, potential claims and recoveries . . .’ You’re asking for everything I own!”

“Not everything. We’ll refund to you any excess over your hospital bill, as soon as we verify it in about eight months.”

“And if I don’t sign this piece of legalized theft?”

“Well, as soon as you stabilize, we’ll discharge you. And then we’ll come after you for everything you have, plus collection charges.”

She slumped back on her bed, adrenalin surge fading. “I . . . won’t sign anything now.”

“All right. Well, she looks stable to me, Susie. What do you think?”

“Er, well, you know, she isn’t moving now. Isn’t that sort of stable?”

“Good enough for me. We’ll call you a cab, Miss Zemo, and you’ll be right on your way home in no time at all. Our bill shouldn’t exceed, oh, $52,000 or so. And don’t worry, our lawyers will be there to follow up with you in about 30 days.”

“I . . . don’t have . . . cab fare.”

“Don’t worry about that. We’ll add it to your bill, plus our 15% standard markup, our 155% uninsured patient surcharge and the state’s 87.5% user fee for private pay patients.”

Susie chimed in, “Hope you enjoyed your stay at Phantomhwk! Be sure to call me if there’s anything I can do to make it more pleasant!” She waved good-bye as they left the dank room.

A half hour later, Elizabeth sat at the hospital’s entrance in a wheelchair, dressed in a tired gingham dress and an overcoat two sizes too large, courtesy of the Hospital Thrift Shop. Her own clothing had been shredded in the blast. To her surprise, a second wheelchair was rolled up beside her, containing a young woman in similar castoffs from the thrift shop. It was a seemingly unscathed Silicone Sally.

“Hi, Beth.” An answering scowl from Elizabeth reminded Sally of protocol. “I mean, Your Excellency.”

“Thank you, Sally. They brought you here too?”

“Yes, Baroness. I wasn’t injured by the blast, but it did give me one hell of a kick in the ass, and I probably did more damage ricocheting through your place than the suicide bomber did.”

“Suicide bomber?”

“Yep. Some guy who called himself ‘Vizh’ or ‘Visionaire’ and who stammered a lot came walking up to the desk, started shaking, and blew up. The fire marshal estimated that with that blast he had at least 15 kilos of BMX plastique or worse on him. The whole warehouse is a total loss – including your records.”

“Visionaire. Tell me, Sally, what did he look like?”

“Sort of tall, dark hair. A bit dorky. Wore a funny yellow trenchcoat and a green sweater with a yellow diamond on it.”

“Visionary!” Elizabeth exclaimed, before shuddering in pain.

“I wouldn’t call it that cutting-edge, Your Excellency. I mean, suicide bombers are pretty common in the Middle East.”

“No, his name is Visionary. He’s – was – one of my new neighbors.”

“Oh. How uncool.”

“Look, Sally, are you going to be o.k.? I mean, I have a couple of extra bedrooms, and if you’d like to stay with me for a while while we recover, that would be fine with me.” Elizabeth was almost begging. The idea of returning to Dullard’s Corner alone with Kerry Shephardson the only person she would know made her shiver.

“Gee, Your Excellency, that’s really nice of you, but I’ve already made arrangements. My boyfriend is picking me up here and taking me to his place in Pierce Heights. There he is, now.” Sally gestured toward a sleek, black Porsche 911 that roared up to the curb in front of them.

“Lance, you made it! Come over here and meet Beth, I mean, the Baroness.”

A 6’2”, tanned brick of a man with wavy, brown hair and cool, green eyes bounded over to Sally’s side. “Sally, darlin’! You look perfect! Are you sure you’ve been in the hospital?”

“Yes, I’ve been here, loverboy. Got plenty of rest, at least. Hope you didn’t wear yourself out today, too much. Now say hello to my boss, the Baroness.”

Lance turned to address Elizabeth. “Sorry to hear about you, ma’am. Looks like you had a tough time of it. Sally thinks the world of you, you know.” Without waiting for a reply, he directed his attention back to Sally. “All right, darlin’, I’ll take you back to your place for some clothes, and then you’re coming with me for all the TLC I can give you, right?”

Sally opened the car door and slid into the sports car. “Sounds right to me. Bye Beth, I mean, Your Excellency. See you again some time!” And with a wave from her and one from Lance, the car sped off, leaving Elizabeth Zemo alone on the curb.

Later that evening Elizabeth sat on the rented sofa in the front room of her townhouse. In the dim light from a single lamp, she could be seen weeping, head in her hands. At least when I was a grad student, I had insurance, I had people who at least knew who I was – well humans, no one can call male grad students or faculty advisors people – and someplace to go every day. Now, the only person who talks to me is a temp who spends her time with a hunk I’ll never come close to. Even Grandpa Otto isn’t showing up, not that I’d want to talk with him. I’m renting a ratty townhouse and can’t sleep for fear of the kid arsonist next door. The man next door, who seemed halfway decent and interested in me, turns out to hate my guts so much he blew himself up to try to kill me. Every time I walk by a Japanese restaurant I get the shakes thinking that one of Akiko’s goons will jump out and try to fillet me. I was so desperate when I got home I even tried calling that Brandi Bubblegum Ballerina person, and got an answering machine. Maybe if I beg pitifully enough Michigan will take me back.

Elizabeth Zemo’s attention was diverted by a second lamp’s turning on. Wait a moment, how did that happen? The light grew brighter. That’s no electric light, and what’s that smell of ozone? Kerry! She limped back to the kitchen as fast as she could, only to find a white-hot electric arc dancing between the electric stove, the microwave oven, the toaster and the mixer, scorching counters, table tops and wallpaper as it buzzed and snaked around the room. Grabbing one of the omnipresent fire extinguishers, the Baroness sprayed foam around the kitchen and onto the appliances, to no avail. Fortunately, just before the kitchen ignited, the circuit breakers tripped, killing the electrical display but leaving Elizabeth in acrid darkness. She sank to her knees, weeping.

Elizabeth might have stayed in her ruined kitchen for the rest of the night, but only a few minutes later, a firm, repeated knock on her front door caused her to drag herself to her feet. “Just a moment!” she replied in a quavering voice, and stumbled her way through the front room, barking her shins against and almost tripping over various items of furniture. Without even thinking of the consequences if a criminal was on the other side, she wrenched open the door and saw Sally and Lance in casual clothes in front of her.

“I thought we’d stop by to check on you,” Sally said.

Playing the part of Elizabeth Zemo von Saxe-Lurkburg-Schreckhausen

J. Jonah Jerkson
VOICE OF THE PEOPLE


ool-43570953.dyn.optonline.net (67.87.9.83) U.S. Network
Windows XP (0.95 points)
[ Reply ] [ New ] [ Email To Friend ] [ Printable ] [ Tales of the Parodyverse ]
Follow-Ups:

Echo™ v2.2 © 2003-2005 Powermad Software
Copyright © 2004 by Mangacool Adventure