Tales of the Parodyverse

Post By

J. Jonah Jerkson
Tue Nov 09, 2004 at 11:03:01 pm EST
Subject
The Baroness, Part 11: The Evil Plot Begins
[ Reply ] [ New ] [ Edit ] [ Email To Friend ] [ Printable ] [ Tales of the Parodyverse ]
Next In Thread >>

The Baroness, Part 11
The Evil Plot Begins

[Last episode: After the exploding Visionary-bot, the billing department of Phantomhwk Memorial Hospital, a night all alone in Dullard’s Corner and an improbable electrical fault, Elizabeth Zemo hit bottom. Fortunately, Silicone Sally and her current toy boy, Lance, came by to visit.]

In only about three hours, Elizabeth, Sally and Lance had finished two full bottles of Pri’gorodskaya vodka and had exhausted all the cranberry, grapefruit, tomato and orange juice in the house.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got another bottle somewhere here,” Elizabeth Zemo assured her guests. And we don’t need the juice anyway.”

“Is there Jello? We always used to do Jello vodka shots at the frat,” Lance chimed in.

“Why do you want Jello when you’ve got me, Lancy-poo?” Sally simpered. “Ya wanna see some jiggle?”

“F***in A! Hey, wait, wasn’t that, that, that what we were going to do before we got here?”

“Don’t worry, studmuffin, I’m still ready for you. It takes a lot more alcohol than this to slow me down.”

“Slow down. Now that just might be what I need,” he mumbled as he sank into a chair and began staring at his fingernails.”

Elizabeth returned with the third bottle of vodka and passed it to Sally as her hands began to tremble. “Here you go, Sally.”

The stretchy siren grabbed the bottle, wiped off the lip with her palm and took a long slug straight from the bottle. Elizabeth watched with combined admiration and horror. “Sally, are you, you sure . . . I mean, isn’t it dangerous . . . to drink so much vodka straight like that?”

“Nah, alcohol just gives me a nice buzz. The only drinks I have to watch out for are rubber solvent or nail polish. So it’s better I drink it now before you poor carbon-based feebs drink it and go unconscious.”

“Hey, I can drink you and anyone you know under the table,” Lance mouthed off.

“Don’t mind him. He gets belligerent if he gets too drunk. So, what are you going to do now, Beth?”

“Don’t you want to go home with Lance and do that jiggle you were talking about?”

“Nah, I think he’s too far gone for a while. Maybe I’ll turn on the tv and see what’s going on with the Transworlds Challenge. Besides, what you were talking about was interesting. Aside from getting back at that Kerry girl, which is more Lance’s speed.”

“Jailbait,” came a moan from the nearby chair.

“It’s getting hard to think straight,” said Beth, “but I think I decided that running for Mayor of Parodiopolis wasn’t right for me. Or was it that vodka and grapefruit juice after Bloody Mary’s wasn’t right for me?”

“Probably both.”

“Whatever. Ugh. My mouth tastes like dogfood. Give me that bottle, Sally.”

“Not too much, Beth.”

“That’s better. Whoa. Now what was . . . oh yes, what I’m going to do. Well, you’ll just have to find out, ‘cause I’m not telling.”

“Pleease?”

“Nope, not telling. But you’ll find out soon, now that you’re my ass, ass, number two girl, right?”

“For $25K per week, you can call me almost anything, Beth.”

“Thaass right. Now take wonderboy here upstairs and you have a good time, and I’m going to bed. Bed? I mean sleep. Just make sure he goes to the hardware store tomorrow, like you promised.”

About noon the next day, somewhat detoxified, Baroness Elizabeth Zemo von Saxe-Lurkburg-Schreckhausen was stepping carefully down her front walk.

“Hi there, Elizabeth!” a yell came from the fire engine at the curb.

“Ouch. Hello, Carl.”

“Did you see the ending of that Transworld Challenge? Fantastic freaking stuff, wasn’t it?”

“No, I missed it, Carl. I was busy last night.”

“Well, that spaceship of ours, Aunt Sally they called her, got cut in half, and then she zoomed right up to the finish.”

“I’ll catch it later, Roscoe. Any word about a possible fire here?”

“Not a thing, ma’am. And we probably won’t be here tomorrow, what with the big parade scheduled for downtown and all.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” replied Elizabeth as she stepped into a waiting limousine.

A half hour later, Elizabeth found herself in the 70th floor reception room of ZOXXON Oil, a location known to very few Paradopolitans who weren’t bankers or tycoons. Even more surprising, she was ushered into the presence of the Chairman after only a minimal wait. After a few pleasantries, they swiftly got down to business.

“You said you had the Nazi formula to produce gasoline from ordinary water,” Montiver Hole intoned. “Of course, you are aware that both the United States government and our own research department determined years ago that no such formula could or did exist. So you will understand that my seeing you today has nothing to do with any desire by ZOXXON to deprive the world of such a useful, but impossible asset.”

“Of course, Mr. Chairman. But just to prove my bona fides, may I present to you this item from my great-uncle Heinrich Zemo’s archives?” She handed over a sheet of paper that Hole read assiduously.

“We already have that formula . . . I mean, it’s the same formula that was proven to be impossible,” Montiver Hole blustered.

“You’re right, it couldn’t possibly be useful to you.” Elizabeth’s eyes twinkled. “But that’s really not what I’m here about. I’m here about this other formula, the one that converts gasoline or any kind of petroleum product into water – instantly, without heat.”

“So? Degrading petroleum is nothing new.”

“This formula is. It’s a self-replicating catalyst. Inject a few cc’s into an oil well, and nothing but water will come out forever. Pour a little into the crude going into your refinery, and you’ll have the world’s biggest and most expensive source of distilled water. Rub a little on the inside of a tanker truck.”

“I think I understand,” Montiver Hole interrupted.

“Do you? Then you should have some idea of why I’m here.”

“All right. How much do you want to leave us alone?”

“Nothing. I don’t want to leave you alone – I want to join you. Imagine what would happen to the value of ZOXXON’s assets if an accident were to occur to one of its competitors – one that might not be capable of being fixed.”

“I see. You realize, of course, that ZOXXON is a public company and couldn’t possibly do business with you.”

“Isn’t that what your lawyers are for, Monty? I can call you Monty, right?”

“Just as long as you understand that they’ll have to be involved . . . Elizabeth?”

“I think ‘Baroness’ sounds so much better, hmmm?”

“All right, Baroness.”

“Don’t frown like that, Monty. I could insist on ‘Your Excellency.’ Now how about a nice private lunch while we go over the details?”

By four o’clock, Elizabeth had returned to her Dullard’s Corner townhouse, had changed into her runners’ outfit and switched on the home force field. After waving a hello at Carl and Roscoe, she jogged around the corner and into an alleyway.

“Hello, Sally. Lance. Here it is.” She handed over a small metal vial with a threaded cap.

“Are you sure this isn’t going to cause any trouble?” whined Lance, dressed in green coveralls emblazoned with a “Parodiopolis Water Dep’t” logo.

“It’s just a prank, Lance, like you used to do in your fraternity,” Sally replied. “I mean, you are always telling me how you filled the computer geek frat’s basement with sewage or stole all the panties from that sorority’s laundry. All we’re asking you to do is to screw this fitting onto a water pipe, for pete’s sake.”

“Well, if that’s all it is, I’m your man.” He screwed the vial into the fitting and then saluted. “Owww. Forgot that was in my hand.”

“Now hurry up. Kerry Shephardson will be back any minute. And besides, the sooner you get back –“

“The sooner we head over to my place!” Lance vaulted over a fence, running toward Visionary’s back yard.

“Going to watch, Your Excellency?” Sally smiled.

“Me? I’m off for my daily run. I mean, why would I expect anything out of the ordinary to happen here? Besides, I need to call my broker before the Caymans close for the day. I have a feeling that it’s time to sell Royal Friesland-Conch Oil short. Have fun with Lance.”

Zack Zelnitz, Hacker9, noticed that it was 4 p.m. And he’d promised Kerry to clean himself up a bit, so perhaps a shower was a good idea. Visionary’s condo was pretty lame, but it at least had lots of hot water. He was well soaped up and starting to rap some verses from Vanilla Ice when the water started to smell. A moment later, he leaped out of the shower, coughing and spitting. Somehow, the flow had changed to gasoline. The fumes wafted through the bathroom, making it impossible to breathe. With some small lingering sense of responsibility, Zach shut off the shower of fuel and grabbed a towel, hoping to get the gasoline off of him. Running downstairs, he tried the sinks in the two other bathrooms and the kitchen. All of them flowed with 87 octane auto fuel. It suddenly came to him that the house was filled with gasoline fumes, he was dripping with the stuff, and the Probability Arsonist was due any second. Wrapping the towel as tightly as he could around him, Zach sprinted for the back entrance, grabbing his jacket as he left, and getting the hell out of Dodge before Dodge became hell.

At the same moment, Kerry Shephardson approached the front door of the condo, with Ham-Boy right behind. With Visionary-bot gone, she had been forced to cadge a ride home on the Ham-Scooter, and it was clear Fred expected more than a favor in return.

“Hey, wait, Kerry, my Ham-Sense is going off. Something’s wrong with the condo.”

“You mean something’s right. No fake fake-man and no fake-man around. You’re just getting the vibes of what a normal place must be like. She opened the door. “Mmmm, what’s that smell?”

“It’s gasoline! Help! Fire!”

“AWW, why did you have to ruin everything? I wouldn’t let it go off until Visionary got back!”

Some hours later, a weary Carl and Roscoe greeted Elizabeth, returning from a long run and a quiet Chinese dinner.

“Well, Miss Elizabeth, you sure were lucky. Did you know that someone poured gasoline all over the condo next door?”

“Gasoline? How awful! Was anybody hurt?”

“No, that f***ing wiener Ham-Boy discovered the f***ing vapor and called us in before any of it could explode and turn this block into s****ing crispy critters.”

“Well, we’re certainly lucky you men were around to protect us. And who’s that woman over there, who’s seems to be dragging Kerry out of the house?”

“That’s Mrs. Velma Robinson from Juvenile Protective Services. Someone called them in about two hours ago,” Carl exhaled.

“Maybe I can help.” Elizabeth approached Mrs. Robinson, who was trying to manhandle Kerry out of the house. Although Mrs. Robinson was 260 pounds of dedicated African-American public servant, Kerry was grasping the doorframe with manic strength.

“I tell you, ya blamed cootie, there’s nothin’ wrong here. Just a minor accident, probably some kind of prank. It was never goin’ to blow up!”

“Don’t you try to jive me, girl. Half the fire department was here trying to keep the town from blowing up. And where is your foster father, this Visionary? Nobody’s seen him around hea-h the last day and a half.”

“He’s working late!”

“You mean, child, he’s working far away. Like light years. I saw him on the tv just last night. And that means you are abandoned, and you are coming with ME!” With a mighty heave, Ms. Robinson dislodged Kerry and dragged the screaming girl towards her official car.

“What should I tell the foster father?” Elizabeth called after her.

“That he’s in one hell of a lot of trouble, and that if he wants to see this young, neglected lady, she’ll be at the Juvie Shelter in Hell’s Bathroom until this is all straightened out.”

“O.K.,” smiled Elizabeth. It had been a very good idea for her to have taken her cellphone along, and to have looked up the JPS number ahead of time. She had a feeling Kerry would be right back tomorrow, but not quite so feisty. They had tough discipline down at Juvie Hall, they said. And the Baroness had plenty of time to work out her next moves.

Playing the part of Baroness 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 (0.8 points)
[ Reply ] [ New ] [ Edit ] [ Email To Friend ] [ Printable ] [ Tales of the Parodyverse ]
Follow-Ups:

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