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Post By Nats Mon Aug 16, 2004 at 02:31:52 pm EDT |
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Nats/spiffy #1: Uneasy Company | |
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spiffy
#1
“Uneasy Company”
It was another usual sunny day in the city of Parodiopolis. A slight breeze rippled over the shores of Parodiopolis, drifting into a grassy area dotted with trees. Two figures walked along a path amongst the trees, which led to a large grouping of buildings arranged mostly in the shape of an octagon. The leaves in the trees rustled as the two lovers walked past, side by side.
“Parodiopolis University is one of the premiere educational institutes on the east coast. Within walking distance of scenic Off-Centre Park, which isn’t too bad if you don’t mind the smell, Parodiopolis University, also known as Parody U or just simply PU by its students, delivers the highest education available to a wide variety of students, of all races and minorities, both Earthly and even Intergalactic. The teaching staff has the best credentials possible. The environment is friendly, comfortable, and engaging. The academic curriculum is varied and easily customizable. Our students, or at least those that don’t mysteriously disappear, receive an incredible education that stays with them throughout their lives, leading them onto successful careers. The real world may seem like it’s a big and scary place, but PU graduates mange it with ease. Alumni of our fine institution include Al B. Harper, famous scientist and Lair Legionnaire, and Horatio Stempwick, inventor of inflatable cheese. Parodiopolis is a wonderful city, and Parodiopolis University is a wonderful college. So come on down and join in the fun of learning,” read Princess Uhunalura of the Abhumans, who had just been recently banished from her homeland forever because of her tryst with a stinking human that threatened to pollute the Abhuman gene pool and nearly caused the destruction of humanity. “I like it,” she said. “I wish to enter into this real world that they speak of. A human education is surely the best opportunity for such an experience, isn’t it?”
“Well, the brochure is supposed to hype up the place,” replied Bill Reed, the stinking human with whom Uhuna had nearly doomed the world with. He was also known as Nats, the flying phenomenon, and member of the Lair Legion. That, however, was only when he was in costume. Right now, he was just ordinary Bill Reed, wearing an ordinary polo shirt and ordinary glasses. “They kinda leave out the part about accidents in the science labs causing giant monsters or super-powers or something. I bet a lot of super-heroes go here, like the New Battlers, or something. And there’s those classes that some of the League of Regulars teach, about the super-heroing business.”
“That sounds very exciting,” said Uhuna, wearing an ordinary shirt and an ordinary skirt instead of her usual extraordinary shining gold bikini. “Perhaps I will sign up for one of those.”
“I’m not sure if I will,” Bill said. “I’m trying to keep a secret identity here. I want to be Bill Reed again, instead of Nats. A low profile sounds good right about now.”
“If you hadn’t dropped out of this college in the first place, you never would have become Nats, and then you wouldn’t have joined the Lair Legion or saved the world or met me or anything.”
“Yeah,” said Bill. “I know. It’s not that I wish I never became Nats… although I suppose I could’ve picked a better name… but I think it feels right to go back to school now, for the fall semester. I need to try to pick up the pieces of my life again, especially after that horrible Planetary Bugle debacle.”
“You pronounced debacle wrong,” she corrected him. “But yes, I’m looking forward to a life, too. I have to learn how to be a normal human Earth girl, as opposed to an Abhuman princess. It’s not every day I get banished from my homeland forever, but I intend to make the best of it.”
“Um… that’s the spirit,” Bill replied. “I think we’re supposed to go that way,” he gestured. “That should be where orientation begins.”
“We already went that way four times,” said Uhuna. “We’ve been going in circles.”
“What? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You’re cute when you’re confused,” she said. “Which is generally all of the time.”
“It has been a while since I’ve been here,” he mumbled. “Er, this way, then.”
Uhuna bounced along after him. “It sure was nice of Mr. Bautista to put up the tuition for us,” she said. “And for Lisa to forge all those documents for me that say I attended regular schooling in your civilization.”
“Yeah, she’s like that,” Bill told her. “Evil, but fair. Occasionally even nice. But still evil. At least, that’s what Vizh keeps telling me.”
“I think I can learn a great deal from her,” said Uhuna.
“That’s what I was afraid of,” murmured Bill.
“What?”
“Nothing!” he quickly responded. “Nothing at all. Nope. Oh, um, here we are! I knew we’d find it.”
“I plan to enjoy my collegiate experience,” Uhuna smiled. “Especially the sex!”
Bill suddenly lost control of his legs and fell flat on his face. “Urk!”
“Hmm,” winked Uhuna, “Lisa was right.”
“No.”
The young man who said this certainly meant it, even if no one ever took him seriously. His arms were crossed, and his brow was furrowed as menacingly as he could manage. His hair was white, or possibly off-white, and the suit he wore didn’t seem to fit him properly. The young man did not look menacing at all. The only thing slightly menacing about him was the symbiotic fern attached to him, which moved about of its own volition.
“No?”
The other man sat behind his desk and looked puzzled, something he was quite good at. He was wearing the same thing he wore every day… a green shirt with a yellow diamond on it, and an equally yellow trench coat. His brow was furrowed as well, but in confusion, as opposed to an attempt at menace. No one ever took him seriously, either, but he was used to it by now. And he was real, dammit.
“No,” repeated spiffy.
“But it’s a required part of the course,” said Visionary. He shuffled some papers in front of him in order to appear more like someone important. He quickly realized it’d take him ages to put them back in order again.
“Why am I even taking this course?” asked spiffy. “I was a founding member of the Lair Legion!”
“Yes. And now you’re a founding member of the Junior Lair Legion.”
“But you demoted me!” the ferned lad complained. “Which is, like, totally not fair. Not to mention you’ve got me forsaking my omni-mayoral duties…”
“I didn’t think you were doing too much with those,” replied Vizh.
“I’m supposed to give a speech or something at this Spoken Word Festival tomorrow,” said Mark Hopkins, which was spiffy’s real name, and the name that appeared on all the election forms. “The election’s coming up really soon… I have to work on a lot of… um, stuff.”
“Yes, I’m sure you do,” said Visionary, struggling to shuffle his papers back into order. “But the assignment is to shadow a specific member of the Lair Legion to see how the whole super-hero operation works. It’s like interning.”
“Are you sure this wasn’t just an excuse to get Kerry out of your condo for a little while?”
“Hey!” Vizh shot back. “It’s difficult to keep replacing the toilet every time it explodes. And Lisa’s indestructible ginger cat showed up the other day, and five minutes later, it was on fire. It’s not that the fire hurt the cat, but it got a lot more irritable. Claw marks… everywhere…” he shuddered. He put his papers down. “So I sent her off to follow Dancer around for a few days. I figured, what could it hurt? They’re sisters, you know. And when Kerry’s not sticking dynamite down my pants, she’s off gallivanting with you. Lisa suggested gelding shears.”
“But I really don’t have time for---”
Vizh interrupted him. “It’s actually a good exercise for young up-and-coming heroes like you and the Juniors, you know.”
“I’m not up-and-coming!” shouted spiffy. “I’m come-and-went! Wait, no! I mean… I’m experienced, dammit.”
“You better not be experienced with Kerry,” Visionary grumbled at him, and then added an “I’m real, dammit!” for good measure.
spiffy sighed. “Fine,” he said. “Who do I have to follow around?”
“You’ll see,” Visionary told him. “He’s supposed to stop in here today. I’ve already sent Kerry off with Dancer, Fashion Accessory with Hatman, Glory with Yo, Harlagaz with Trickshot, and, God forgive me, Ham-Boy with CSFB!.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” muttered spiffy, his head collapsing into his hands.
“Well, Mumphrey thought it was a good idea. And Lisa backed him up on it right away. Then they went off to compare notes, they said. But they never came back. Anyway,” the possibly fake man continued, “it’s not like it’ll kill you. Probably. Um… here’s hoping.” He quickly went back to shuffling papers.
“My life sucks,” moped spiffy, standing up to leave.
“Mind the buckets on your way out,” Visionary told him three seconds before spiffy tripped over one, while leaving the janitorial supply closet that doubled as Visionary’s office at, you guessed it, Parodiopolis University.
“And so, as we continue to observe the migratory patterns of the Candian Warble-Monkey, we see that it deviates around the Tropic of Capricorn, which can be attributed to hunger pangs from the lack of pigeons available for…” the voice droned on and on and on and on and on, and then on some more, and would not stop. The owner of this voice, the one who was actually speaking the words, didn’t seem to notice either, as he was asleep, yet somehow still lecturing. Professor von Ravioli stood in front of the whiteboard in one of the largest lecture halls on campus, dressed in his full tweed regalia, and droning on about flying monkeys in his sleep. The odder thing was, it was Calculus class.
Bill Reed scribbled down notes furiously as the professor droned on, even though he wasn’t sure what the Warble-Monkey had to do with Calculus. The notebook was a mess, however, as Bill kept dozing off and waking up, trying to write. Words floated all over the page in no discernible order. Some of the words could not necessarily be considered English.
The student sitting next to Bill read leaned over to look at what he was writing. “Dude,” said the student. “What’re you doing?”
“Wha? I, er, I’m awake,” declared Bill. “I think.”
“If you’re trying to take notes, I’d, y’know, not,” the student whispered. “I hear this guy does this thing all the time. It’s like a trance or something.”
Bill wiped some drool off his chin. “Um, yeah, I knew that.”
“Yeah, so I think… hey, wait a minute!” gasped the student. His eyes grew wide and his mouth froze in mid-gape. “Dazamn!”
“What?” Bill whispered back.
“You’re Nats!” the student told him, in hushed but excited tones. “Dazamn!”
“What? No!” Bill said. “I’m not Nats. And what does that ‘dazamn’ mean? What is that? I don’t get it.”
“No, c’mon man, you are so Nats.”
“I am not.”
“Sure you are,” the student insisted. “Those stupid glasses aren’t fooling anybody.”
“I’m telling you, I’m not Na… Hey, my glasses aren’t stupid!”
“Take them off, man. This secret identity thing is so lame. It’s so obvious who you are. I mean, look at your hair!”
“But… I wear these to see…” muttered Bill. “Wait, what about my hair?”
“No one has hair like that, man,” the student informed him.
“…I combed it this morning,” said Bill, his hands patting his horribly unkempt red hair.
“Can I, like, have your autograph, or something?”
“I’m telling you, I am not Nats!”
“Are too!”
“Am not!”
“Come on, it’s okay. You can stop pretending.”
Bill sighed and gave up. “Is it that obvious? I mean, I’ve got the glasses, and, and everything!”
“I know,” said the student. “The glasses are a nice touch. Very Clark Kent. Which, of course, is why it’s such a see-through cliché. You should’ve, I dunno, gone with a fake moustache or something. Or a hat. Y’know, try to break the stereotype.”
“What stereotype?” Bill grumbled. “I wear these to see, dammit!”
“Yeah, right, sure you do. Listen, I could use some advice.”
“Advice?”
“Yeah. D’you think I should sign up for one of those classes for super-heroes? I don’t know, I think I could try out for that Junior Legion. And that Fashion Accessory is hot---!”
“What are you talking about?” Bill asked him. “In fact, who are you?”
The student smiled and held his hand out to shake. Bill didn’t receive it. “My name’s Ian,” said Ian. “But you can call me Ian.”
“What?”
“Just messin’ with you,” Ian told him. “I’m a super-hero too, y’know. Well, I dabble a bit. Freelance stuff.” He grinned. “I’m Icewing.”
“Who?”
Ian looked shocked. “You haven’t heard of me?”
“Well, no,” admitted Bill.
“But I’ve had a big team-up and everything!” Ian said. “I fought Birthday Bandit! And, and Turbo Treesloth!”
“That’s… not exactly the best resume.”
“Oh, you scoff at me now, but… Dancer was there! And ManMan, and dull thud! We fought this big… tentacle dealy underground! I was there, I swear! Ask them!”
“Wait… you mean to tell me that you fought S’habba D’abba D’hu? The Groper out of Grossness?” Bill said.
“Well… yeah,” Ian replied. “Didn’t Dynamite Boy tell you about me?”
“You’ve been reading too much Lair Legion fan fiction,” said Bill. “I haven’t even seen Dynamite Boy in years.”
“Yeah, he went to college in Washington state,” Ian explained. “But I hear he’s got a new archenemy and everything.”
“Well, that’s nice,” said Bill. “So, um, what do you do, exactly?”
“I’ve got, y’know, ice powers,” Ian said. “Like freezing stuff, and… freezing more stuff. Like Iceman. But cooler. ‘Cause it’s with a ‘wing.’”
“Um… right,” noted Bill.
“But could you put in a good word for me for the Junior LL thing?”
“I, um, I’ll see what I can do,” Bill told him.
“Thanks, man!” Ian said. “Just one question, though…”
“Yeah?”
“What’s with a stupid name like Nats?”
Bill opened his mouth to reply, but by this time a girl sitting on the other side of him leaned in. “Hey!” she interrupted. “Shut up, will you? Some of us are trying to take notes, here! I think this Warbler-Monkey stuff is important. It’ll probably be on the… oh my God!”
“What?” asked Bill.
“I just noticed!” said the girl. “You’re Nats!”
Bill hit himself in the head with his notebook.
“See?” said Ian. “I told you.”
A beautiful young woman walked into a dark room and turned on the light. The bulbs were dying, and so the light was a dim orange that bathed everything in an eerie glow. The room was Spartan; a simple bed and nothing more. However, the walls were covered in newspaper clippings, magazine, um, clippings, out-of-focus Polaroid photographs, and even pages ripped out of comic books. On the only table in the room stood several action figures and models. All of these things featured the same person.
The woman smiled. “Natssss…” she said under her breath.
“What do you mean I’m denied?”
“I mean you don’t go to this college. So therefore you cannot scan your college ID to pay for your college meal plan. Which you don’t have, because you’re not a student,” explained the lunch lady, whose nametag read ‘Doris.’ “Only college students or teachers can eat in the college cafeteria.”
“But I have cash! I’ll pay you cash!” spiffy offered.
“That’s not the way these things work, kid,” said the lunch lady.
“But… but I’m the mayor…” insisted the ferned wonder.
“Yes, of course you are. Now if you don’t mind, there are others waiting in line.”
“I’m one of the League of Regulars! I was in the Lair Legion! I know Visionary! And Lisa Waltz! And all the others! Can’t they vouch for me?”
“This isn’t a nightclub, kid,” said the lunch lady, “but you’re still not on the list. Now please leave before I am forced to call campus security. Next?”
“Well… fine!” shouted spiffy. “You win this time, lunch lady! But next time… hey, look! It’s Hugh Grant! And he brought Swedish Meatballs!”
“What?” the lunch lady said, turning around. spiffy quickly grabbed his food and ran off. “Hey… he didn’t bring Swedish Meatballs!” she noticed, turning around. “Hey! …where’d that kid go?”
“Oh, don’t mind him, dear,” Hugh Grant told her.
“…and I made so many new friends, and several sisters from something called a sorority asked me to join their group, and it sounded very interesting so I think I will have to take them up on their offer. All of my classes are very wonderful and exciting as well. Who knew super-anthropology could be so much fun?” Uhunalura smiled as she ate a delicious yet low-carb Chicken Caesar Salad. “And how was your Calculus class?”
Bill Reed wrestled with his Sloppy Joe sandwich, which was spilling meat and sauce all over him. “It was alright,” he said dejectedly. “Met another super-hero. Learned about Warbler-Monkeys.”
“That sounds terrific!” said Uhuna excitedly. Most things in the human world made her excited. Especially the sex. “And I thought Calculus class was only about mathematics…!”
Bill sighed. “I’d just like to make it through the day,” he said. “This whole college thing is harder than I remember.”
“You just have to stick with it and persevere,” Uhuna told him. “And learning is half the battle!”
“I see you’re getting more attuned to Earth culture,” Bill noted sarcastically.
“Yes,” answered the former princess, not noticing the sarcasm. “I believe I most certainly am. It is an exciting and enjoyable experience.”
“Y’know, maybe you’re right,” said Bill. “I just have be more open-minded… take things with more of a positive attitude, like you. I’m sure--”
“Heeyyy, buddy!” called a familiar voice. “Wassup?”
“Oh no,” said Bill, who was futilely trying to wash the meat off his shirt with Pepsi. “Icewing.”
“Hey hey,” said Ian, walking up and sitting down at their table. “I’m in secret identity mode, a’ight?”
“Yes, well, I tried that too,” Bill stated, “and it didn’t work very well, apparently. I swear, if one more person comes up to me and says--”
“Hey, look!” someone said from several feet away, pointing at Bill. “It’s Nats!”
“--I. Will. Explode,” declared Bill.
“That would probably be particularly messy,” pondered Uhuna. “And most likely a great shame.”
“Most likely?” Bill repeated. “Don’t you like me anymore?”
“Oh, of course!” said Uhuna. “But there are so many cute boys here, I’m sure I could easily replace you.”
“Glrrk!” Bill choked, knocking his Sloppy Joe into his lap. “Gah!”
“I was just kidding,” smiled Uhuna.
“Now, um, Natty-boy,” Ian said casually, “I have another question. Uh, what’s the Lair Legion’s status on, um, mutates?”
“Well,” said Bill, wiping meat off his pants, “we don’t have anything against ‘em. Except maybe Mr. Epitome. You can never tell with those government types.”
“Oh, well, that’s good. Because, um, I happened to be born with my powers. But the thing is, I never registered with this, um, government program dealy. Y’see. And when I heard you didn’t accept De Brown Streak into the LL…”
“No, we tried, but he didn’t want membership. Which is a shame, because he’s a really nice guy even if he’s an outlaw or rogue, or whatever,” said Bill. “He’s not what the papers make him out to be.”
“Ahh, totally good, then,” said Ian. “Maybe I will try out for that Junior LL. I think it’d help my rep. Don’t you, g?”
“G?” asked Uhuna.
“Hey, I may be a white boy, but I can still hang with my homies and speak the Ebonics, yo,” Ian explained.
“Yeah,” said Bill. “Or, y’know, not. Listen, I better find a bathroom to clean myself up.”
“Fo’shizzle,” Ian nodded. “We’ll hang later, mmkay?”
“Yeah,” said Bill, rolling his eyes. “Sure.” He wandered off towards the general direction of where he thought the bathrooms would be.
“Hey, look!” another student proclaimed. “It’s Nats! And he’s messed in his pants!”
One of the scariest and most recurring places on Earth is the men’s bathroom, nearly anywhere. One never knows what invisible grime is about that could inflict pestilence upon you, or what hideous evil lurks behind a stall door. Yet so many dare to journey into that mystery.
One of those was a youngish lad with white hair, a suit that didn’t fit right, and a symbiotic fern. The other, another youngish lad with bright red hair and clothes covered in some kind of meat and sauce, straggled into the room, fending off hungry pigeons.
Bill Reed walked up next to Mark Hopkins, who was doing the usual things a man does when he’s in the men’s room. Scant seconds later, Mark broke the golden unwritten rule of men’s facilities, which is, simply, to stare straight ahead and not look to the side. But he did so, and immediately recognized the youngish lad standing next to him.
“Nats!?” he exclaimed. “You’re the one Vizh stuck me with?”
“What?” said Bill. “I’m telling you, I’m not N… spiffy!”
“No way!” spiffy said vehemently. “Not you! Anyone but you!”
“spiffy, you’re, um, dripping on my shoes,” observed Bill.
“Gah!” croaked the ferned wonder, and adjusted for this predicament. “Listen, I don’t care what Vizh says, I want out of this!”
“Out of what?” asked Bill.
“I am not going to follow you around, or observe, or any of that! No way!” spiffy declared.
“Um, what are you talking about?” Bill wondered.
“The assignment!” Mark told him. “Where the Juniors follow the Legionnaires around, shadowing them, or whatever!”
“Um…”
“spiffy is no one’s sidekick!”
“I thought you were Banjooooo’s sidekick,” said Bill.
“I bet they’re all getting a big laugh out of this,” guessed spiffy. “But they’re not going to make a fool out of me this time! No way!” He started to storm off, but Bill put a hand on his shoulder.
“Hey, wait a minute, spiff. You’re not making much---”
spiffy, however, seething with, as he felt, righteous indignation, whirled around and pushed Bill back with his fern, knocking him over. “No way are they sticking me with someone lamer than me! I mean, someone lame…!”
“---oof!” grunted Bill. “Okay, that’s it. Secret identity be damned.” He ripped his shirt off to reveal his usual orange costume. “I am not lame, dammit!” He hit spiffy with a flying tackle, sending them both sailing out of the men’s room.
“Hey…” said the as-yet-unnoticed third youngish lad in the men’s room. “You didn’t wash your hands…”
“Argh!” arghed the young omni-mayor, hitting the ground rolling. “That hurt, you, um, mook!”
“Mook is my word!” Nats shot back.
“What kind of a stupid name is Nats, anyway?” spiffy chided, propelling himself via fern towards the flying delivery boy.
“What kind of a stupid name is spiffy?” the flying phenom retorted as spiffy slammed into him.
An epic battle ensued!
“Ow! Hey! No hair-pulling!” complained Nats.
“Well, stop smacking me!” spiffy told him.
“Then take this!” Nats said, trying to poke spiffy in the eye. “Ouch! No biting, either!”
“Then let go of my neck!” spiffy replied.
“Agh! Get this fern out of my face!”
“If you even try to use your pyrokinetics on me…”
“Try passing a law about it, mayor-boy.”
“Yeah, go deliver a package, you… delivery boy, you!”
“Nice comeback, Coat Rack.”
“Nobody but Donar calls me Coat Rack!” Coat Rack fired back.
“Now I see why neospiffy is such an insult,” said the neospiffy as the battle continued outside in the open food court area.
spiffy pushed Nats back with several fronds. “I could beat you with both arms tied behind my back!”
“Yeah, because of that damn fern!” noted Nats. “To me, my jacket!” His trademark leather jacket flew above the heads of the students who were now crowding around to see the fight. Nats caught it and put it on. “Okay, now we’re good,” he said. “Time in.”
The ferned wonder jumped on him from behind and started hitting him in the head. “Take that and that and that and---”
Nats tossed him off telekinetically and then grabbed him by the throat. spiffy did the same, wrapping several fronds around Nats’s neck.
“Gakk!”
“Glrrk!”
“Does this kind of thing happen often?” Ian asked Uhuna, both of them watching the struggle.
“I believe so,” she replied.
“Let… gkk… go of me, you!” Nats demanded.
“You… first!” spiffy choked out.
If there was music during this battle, the music would have, at this point, risen to a dramatic crescendo, as the wall behind them turned to glass and shattered outward, sending shards everywhere, and distracting the two combatants enough to get them to release one another.
The blonde woman responsible for what had just occurred stepped through the new hole in the wall. She was dressed to kill… literally, in red cloth and black leather, not unlike one of the Feminine Furies from the war-torn world Apuffylip.
“Hello boys,” smiled the Suicide Blonde.
Elsewhere, Visionary stood outside of his janitorial office, waiting. The man that stood next to him, adorned in the American flag, the one-and-only Mr. Epitome, began to speak.
“You told spiffy about the assignment, right?” he asked.
“Er, yes,” Vizh replied. “He was right here a minute ago. I told him he was supposed to shadow you in your regular LL duty.”
“I wonder where he went…” said the Paragon of Power.
To be continued, in our next installment: “Suicidally Blonde!”
Author’s note: Pardon the horrible prose in this here installment, but I rushed a bit in order to get it out to you, the readers! More episodes will follow shortly, and be better, I hope.
Now for your favorite part… the Footnotes!
Nats has a new status quo, now, as this story shows. He’s gone back to college, and Uhuna has come with him, in order to get more experience in the human world. Naturally, poor Nats is having a dreadful time of it, but Uhuna has managed to fit in quite well.
Last we checked, spiffy was omni-mayor of every city in the United States except Parodiopolis, although it’s believed he’s filling in ever since Pierson’s Porter disappeared.
Visionary is grudgingly in charge of the Junior Lair Legion program, of which spiffy is grudgingly a member of. There’s also several super-hero courses taught at Parodiopolis University by Visionary and other members of the League of Regulars.
Icewing is a relatively newbie super-type who appeared on the scene a little ways back. We know he went to Rocket Man High with Shane Jackson and Dynamite Boy, and now we see he’s going to PU. He can sheathe himself in ice, freeze things very well, and create a few limited ice constructs, but he’s not yet completely adept at using his mutate abilities.
And thanks to the lovely Dancer for the images.
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