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Post By Nats Wed Aug 18, 2004 at 12:14:38 am EDT |
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Nats/spiffy #2: Suicidally Blonde | |
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Next In Thread >> | |
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spiffy
#2
“Suicidally Blonde”
Previously: Nats (Bill Reed), the high-flying delivery boy, adventurer, and Lair Legionnaire, has gone back to college, at Parodiopolis University to be specific, and his strangely literal and sex-minded girlfriend Any… Er, Uhunalura, has come with him, to get a human education and learn their ways, as she’s an Abhuman princess banished from her home in Atticland. Meanwhile, spiffy (Mark Hopkins), the mayor of everywhere except, yet including, Parodiopolis, was given an assignment by Visionary, the “mentor” to the Junior Lair Legion, of which spiffy is grudgingly a member of, to shadow an LLer and see what the super-hero business is like (even though, as spiffy points out, he was a founding member of the LL). One misunderstanding later, and spiffy now believes he was sent to follow Nats, the so-called neospiffy, around, and a horribly un-epic battle ensues, culminating when the super-villainess Suicide Blonde shows up for an as-yet unexplained reason.
[The scene: A smoke-filled room. Into the room walks a smoke-filled detective. Already seated in the room is another smoke-filled detective, with his smoke-filled jacket hung on his chair, and his sleeves folded up, each of them holding a cigarette pack in the fold, like all those classic tough guys used to do. On the table in front of him lay a few blurry photographs, a few typed statements in that classic Courier New font, and a coffee mug, in which the seated detective is continually and unknowingly tapping the ashes from his cigarette into.]
Smoke-filled detective #1, in a gravelly voice, not unlike Clint Eastwood with a sore throat: “So… what’ve we got?”
Smoke-filled detective #2, who can’t seem to get out an entire sentence without going into a hacking coughing fit: “Well, *kaffchokekoffkoff* from the intel we’ve gathered together, it appears *hackchokekoffkaff* that Nats and the mayor were having some kind of, er, *koffkoff* dispute, that resulted in some kind of fight.”
Detective #1, eyeing the blurry photos taken from the scene: “And then this Suicide Blonde showed up, right?”
Detective #2: “Yep. She’s *kaffkaffkoff* apparently, according to the files anyway, *koffchokehackkaff* this chick from the future. Controls *kaff* all matter. Pretty strong and *koffkoff* durable, too.”
Detective #1: “So what happened after she appeared on the scene?”
Detective #2: “Well… *kaffkoffchoke* Nats and Mayor spiffy put up something of a fight, but *kaffcoff* the Blonde took them out. Turned their pants to *kaffkoff* metal, or something.”
Detective #1: “Hmm. Do we have any---?”
Detective #2: *coughcoughchoke*
Detective #1: “…any--”
Detective #2: *koffkoffkaff*
Detective #1: “…”
Detective #2: “What?”
Detective #1: “Do we have any l---”
Detective #2: *koffcoffhackchokekoff*
Detective #1: “For God’s sake, man, take a drink or something!”
[The second detective grabs for his mug and takes several large gulps of coffee before realizing he’s been putting ashes into it the whole time.]
Detective #2: Gakk! *coughcoughkoffkaffchokehackcough*
Detective #1: “Pull yourself together, man!”
Detective #2: *koffkoffkaffwheezewheezewheeze*
Detective #1: “You know, you don’t look too g---”
Detective #2: *thud*
Detective #1: “Uh, Bob? …Bob?” [He taps the fallen detective with his foot.] “Any leads, Bob? …… Bob?”
Nats woke up slowly, and groggily. His eyes struggled to open and the muscles in his arms and back ached. He panicked for a few fleeting seconds, as he couldn’t remember where he was or how he’d gotten there. Then he realized he had no idea where he was, and never knew how he’d got there. However, he was missing something, but he just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Yet he knew it was vitally important.
As his vision slowly came into focus (he’d just put in these new and interesting prescription lenses on his mask… it sounded like a good idea at the time, but now he realized one of them was cracked) he looked about him slowly. There was a vital piece of the puzzle missing from his memory. What could it have been…?
“You’ve recovered so soon?” a voice said to him. He blinked a few times to see what the out-of-focus shape in front of him was, and soon discovered it was a woman, dressed in leather and chains and, apparently, red spandex. “Then again, you’re probably used to taking severe blows to the head,” the voice added.
Blows to the head? That could explain why Nats felt like he’d been run over with a truck. Sadly, the voice was right, and he was used to that feeling. Grievous bodily harm was something Nats was good at obtaining.
A bright flash went off, as if someone was taking his picture. Come to think of it, that’s exactly what was going on! Now if only he could figure out what that lumpy person-shaped mass next to him was.
“Your little friend hasn’t woken up yet,” the woman told him. What friend was she talking about, though? That at least explained the lumpy mass next to him, but there was still something missing. It probably had to do with these very tight ropes around him. Wait, ropes? What was going on here? “His fern’s still just flopping about.” Fern? What could she--- Oh no.
“sprfy,” Nats managed to blurt. He had meant, of course, spiffy, who just so happened to be the lumpy mass he was currently tied to, with very strong bonds. Suddenly, it was all flooding back to him. The women that was speaking to him had to have been---
Suicide Blonde tacked her newly-taken Polaroid photograph to the wall. “Either spiffy doesn’t photograph well, or I had my finger on the lens,” she said. “Well, there’s plenty more where that came from.” She pointed the cheap camera at Nats again. “Say cheese!”
“Wha…?” he demanded of her as the flash went off, hopelessly obscuring his vision again. It’s hard for someone to demand something as monosyllabic as a “Wha” but by that Nats meant “What’s going on here? Where am I? Why am I tied to spiffy? Why do you keep taking pictures of me?” Unfortunately, he had yet to regain control of most of his bodily functions, including speech, and quite possibly bladder control, although he prayed that smell was coming from spiffy.
“You’re probably wondering about all the pictures, and clippings, and memorabilia,” Suicide Blonde figured. However, she was wrong, as poor Bill Reed could barely see two feet in front of him, and he was more concerned about that aching throb in his shoulder blades than what all that stuff on the walls was.
“It’s… well, it’s difficult to explain, you see,” the Suicide Blonde told him. “It’s complicated. When I first met you, a few years back, if you remember, in that ridiculous but oddly appealing Nats Romance Special, you were just another form-fitting spandex costume to me. I was fresh out of my super-villain elocution class, which my counselor told me would be a good idea… I really don’t know why I was trying to rob the restaurant. I guess that didn’t make any sense, but I’d been hanging around some of those Purveyors of Peril too much. Or was I still banded with my lord and master Dark Thugos back then? Well, sometimes my memory’s a little fuzzy. I’m sure you know how this whole business can get to you. Yet I’m glad we battled that night. You see, the fates brought us together. And ever since, I… I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Nats wasn’t sure where this was going, exactly, but he knew it couldn’t be good. He was squinting now, to see what the hell those damn things were all over the walls. And those orange blurs on the only table in the room.
Suicide Blonde continued. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but… well, maybe I do, after all, I did beat you unconscious, tie you up, and drop you here in my little hellhole of an apartment, but I was never really one for the details. A girl knew her place on Apuffylip, which is where I was raised, you know, by the almighty Dark Thugos, and that place was in the flamepits training. I worked hard to be a Fury, and the Furies didn’t need comforts. But, no, no, stupid Bambi, you’re getting off subject.”
Nats could almost see what it was that was covering the walls, but his head was pounding so much that his vision couldn’t focus very well. Behind him, spiffy shifted a little. Or maybe that was his fern.
“You see Nats,” Suicide Blonde said to him, “I think… I think I’m in love with you.”
Those words hit Nats like an out-of-control bus that couldn’t go under fifty miles per hour or else it’d explode. Everything was suddenly in sharp focus. The things on the walls were pictures of him. A lot of them were out-of-focus Polaroid shots. There were newspaper clippings, though, and magazine articles, and pages torn out of comic books, all with his face on them. The blurry things on the table revealed themselves to be action figures and models of him. There was even an orange clock with his face on it, which was odd, because he didn’t remember granting permission for his likeness to be used on any clocks. They were probably bootlegs. He certainly remembered signing for the commemorative plate set which unfortunately never got made, but… No! His mind was wandering. He had to focus. What did she just say?
“Yes,” she said. “I love you.”
Oh, right, that was it. Wait! What!? She loved him? Now, Nats had his women troubles before, but this was a bit much! A super-villain that’s tried to kill him before was actually in love with him? Seriously, this sounded like something out of a Buffy episode! …wait a minute…
Nats tried to struggle against his bonds. He rocked back and forth, but he couldn’t move a muscle. And the lumpy weight that was spiffy wasn’t helping very much, either. If only that throbbing pain in his head would go away so that he could concentrate in order to use his telekinetic powers…
“You won’t be able to escape,” Suicide Blonde informed him, noticing his futile struggle. “I crafted those bonds. Complete control over matter, remember? They’re adamantine. Nothing can break them, and you can’t wriggle free.”
spiffy shifted again. Or did he? Nats couldn’t tell. He was busy trying to move his arms, but they were, apparently, tied behind him so tightly he couldn’t move them.
“I’ve been following you,” Suicide Blonde went on. “And I’ve… I’ve seen you with… with another woman. But… but you’re supposed to be with me. I… are you… are you seeing her? That… that Uhunalura Jones?”
“Uhhh…” grunted Nats.
“No!” shouted the Suicide Blonde. “No more of your lies, or your half-truths! Everyone always lies to me! Don’t you see? Don’t you understand how I feel? We’re meant for each other!”
“Yuuuurrrr… crazy,” the flying delivery boy managed to utter.
“Crazy? CRAZY!?” she shrieked. “Crazy for what? Crazy for feelin’ so blue? Is that it? Crazy for feelin’ so lonely? Well, no! No, that’s not it! Everyone calls me crazy! That’s what they said, you know, they said I was crazy! But… but I’m only crazy for loving you!”
Nats was almost sure spiffy was stirring. If only he could figure out a way to escape, but that pounding in his head was killing him. He needed to concentrate...
“Tell me,” Suicide Blonde commanded. “Tell me what you feel for me. Tell me the truth. Tell me you feel something… tell me you love me…”
“Nnnn…” Nats shot back. He wished he could form at least one coherent sentence.
“Because… Because if you don’t… Then I’ll kill you,” she said. “That’s it. That’s the ultimatum. I’ll, I’ll kill you, and your friend, and I’ll smash you up and break you into little pieces, and, and blow you to smithereens!”
What was she talking about? Nats couldn’t make much sense of what was going on. He just wondered why he couldn’t remember where that clock with his picture on it came from. It didn’t look like one of those Japanese bootlegs, but he couldn’t… Wait a minute, it couldn’t be a clock. If it was a clock, why was it counting down? No, that was a… a…
“Bomb,” said Nats. Yes, it was a bomb. That was not a good thing.
Suicide Blonde pressed a button on it, and the timer stopped. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’ll blow you up to smithereens. If I can’t have you, then no one can! We’ll have a ticker tape parade with your little bits!”
“Owww…” moaned spiffy. Yes, spiffy! He was alive! And apparently waking up. “Waaasss go’n’ on?” he mumbled.
“spiffy?” said Nats. “spiffy, wake up.”
“’m the mayor, dammit,” spiffy said.
“Yeah,” Nats replied groggily. “Yeah, you’re the mayor. C’mon, Mr. Mayor, you…”
“Jus’ five more minutes, mum,” the ferned wonder pleaded.
“We could build our castles in the sun!” Suicide Blonde yelled at Nats, throwing an action figure at him. “Just tell me that you love me! Me, and not that other girl! Say it! Say it!”
“You’re completely out of your gourd,” Nats weakly told her.
“No ‘m not,” responded spiffy.
“Not you, spiffy, Suicide Blonde.”
“Who’s Suicide Blonde?”
“The lady that’s going to blow us up, spiff.”
“What lady?” spiffy drowsily said. “I don’t see any lady.”
“Come on, spiffy, wake up!” Nats bade him. “For the love of God, man!”
“Yeah, I’m spiffy,” Mark Hopkins said. “Darn tootin.’ I’m nifty, too.”
Nats continued struggling against his unbreakable bonds, but it appeared to be futile. “spiffy, now would be a good time to skip the part where you act like the funny sleepy guy and help me out here.”
“Uhhhnn…” groaned spiffy.
Nats threw his head back and knocked spiffy in the back of his cranium. “Ow!” they both said in unison.
Suicide Blonde, however, wasn’t paying much attention to their antics. She was too lost in her own ramblings. By now, tears were streaming down her cheeks. “Why can’t you see it?” she cried. “It tears me apart. I just can’t… You’re always there. You’re in my head, and you just won’t. go. away!” She opened her hand, showing Nats what she was gripping so tightly.
“Oh, God,” said Nats. “Not my hair! Not my beautiful hair!” In Suicide Blonde’s hand was a torn lock of Nats’s own improbably bright red hair.
“Just… tell me what you feel about me,” the villainess said.
“Listen,” Bill replied, “I don’t know what set you off the deep end. But trust me. You and me? I don’t think it’ll necessarily, y’know, work out, on account of you being a psychotic lunatic, and all…”
“You… you’re… breaking up with me?” Suicide Blonde squeaked, shocked. “After all I’ve done for you?”
“What are you talking abou---”
“No one breaks up with me!” she shouted, kicking out, sending Nats, spiffy, and the bed they were sitting on smashing through the wall, three stories up from the ground.
[The scene: The SPUD Helicarrier. There are a large number of SPUD crew members sitting around at various computer consoles, flipping all kinds of switches, turning knobs, pressing buttons, that type of thing. It’s some high of high-tech switchboard buttonpalooza. Drury paces back and forth, watching them watch their little monitors.]
Drury: “Okay, you limp-wristed cud-chewin’ back-scratchin’ red-shirt-in-Star-Trek-wearin’ …uh… light-beer-drinkin’ …er… monkey-rubbin’ …ahh, yahoos! Flip those switches faster, dammit! I’m runnin’ out of cigars to smoke, here! Where’s my intel?”
Limp-wristed cud-chewin’ back-scratchin’ red-shirt-in-Star-Trek-wearin’ light-beer-drinkin’ monkey-rubbin’ yahoo #1: “Well, sir, I’m not sure--”
Drury: “Don’t give me that, you kosher-hot-dog-eatin’ Boy Scout! I want the hard facts! I want the real down-and-dirty information! Now make yourself useful! Press some more of those buttons!”
Kosher-hot-dog-eatin’ Boy Scout #2: “Sir! This may be important!”
Drury: “Don’t tell me it’s important, you Nader-votin’ spray-on-tannin’ comic-convention-attendin’ houseboy! Show me what’s important! And where the hell is the dash lighter in this place?”
Nader-votin’ spray-on-tannin’ comic-convention-attendin’ houseboy #3: “I see it too, sir! It’s on the radar! I… I don’t know what it is!”
Drury: “Get out of my way, you Calorie-countin’ discount-shoppin’ paper-pushin’ hula girl! Let me see… oh my God! It’s worse than I thought! All those lights! It’s like some kind of Bingo scoreboard from hell!”
Calorie-countin’ discount-shoppin’ paper-pushin’ hula girl #4: “Sir, it’s almost on us! What do we do? What do we do?”
Drury: “Pull yourself together, you… you… you! It’s not… not… Oh, my God! It’s… everything around me is red! Red! REDDDDD! …Maybe it’s the scotch. No, wait, it’s… AHHHH! REDDDD!”
Limp-wristed cud-chewin’ back-scratchin’ red-shirt-in-Star-Trek-wearin’ light-beer-drinkin’ monkey-rubbin’ yahoo #1: “………”
Kosher-hot-dog-eatin’ Boy Scout #2: “………”
Nader-votin’ spray-on-tannin’ comic-convention-attendin’ houseboy #3: “………”
Calorie-countin’ discount-shoppin’ paper-pushin’ hula girl #4: “………”
Drury: “………”
[What the heck is going on? Well, my faithful audience, please to be turning your attention to the small cloud shaped like a slightly agitated Warbler-Monkey. Better yet, turn your attention to the small ship inside of it built entirely of conceptual reasoning, and the three very good-looking beings inside of it.]
Good-looking being #1: “I am sooo good-looking, aren’t I?”
Good-looking being #2: “Yes. But then, so am I.”
Good-looking being #3: “Will you two stop it? *sigh* We should’ve never thought mirrors into this ship. The test was successful, by the way. They await any and all further orders.”
Good-looking being #1: “As successful as my unbelievable sexiness?”
Good-looking being #3: “No. Much more. Besides, dammit, I’m the best-looking one here. But yes, it seems that the Writer’s Block Equation works.”
[I’m afraid that’s enough of that. As to who these good-looking beings are, well, tune in next time. But now it’s time for that nifty little scene divider to show up. Take it away, asterisks!]
Luckily for Nats, he didn’t need his arms to fly. He managed to concentrate through the horrible throbbing pain in his head long enough to fly to a relatively safe landing. His shaky flight finally gave out just a few feet off the ground, succumbing to the flying phenomenon’s awful migraine. He and spiffy, still bound together back-to-back by adamantine coils, hit the ground rolling, literally.
“Mmmph!” complained spiffy.
“What?” Nats replied.
“Mmmph!” repeated spiffy.
“I can’t understand a word you’re saying!” Nats told him.
spiffy struggled for a few moments before knocking Nats onto his side. “You landed on me, you idiot!” he yelled.
“But look on the bright side,” Nats said. “You’re awake, now.”
“Well, crash-landing on your face can do that,” the ferned wonder replied. “Now why the hell are we tied up? Where the hell are we? What the hell is going on?”
“The short of it is, well, Suicide Blonde attacked us and apparently took us back to her place and she had all these pictures of me and she’s kind of obsessed with me and is in love with me or something and now is trying to kill us after she kicked us through a third-story wall,” Nats recapped.
“Dammit, how come you’re always getting girls chasing after you?” spiffy said. “I just get pyromaniacs. But you have sex princesses and super-villains and scientists and everything.”
“Who told you about my sex princes…about Uhuna?” asked Bill.
“Hey, I’m the mayor, you know,” spiffy told him. “And I’ve got a lot of friends in this super-hero business. By the way, where exactly is this crazy super-villain girlfriend of yours?”
“Um… I’m not sure,” said Nats. “And she’s not my girlfriend, dammit. But… oh, crap.”
“What?” said spiffy. “What is it?”
“We’re… we’re in Statue Park,” Nats told him.
“Yeah? So?”
“Suicide Blonde’s got control of all matter, right? So when she’s trying to kill you and you’re in a park full of statues of all kinds of super-heroes…”
“Ahh,” said spiffy. “That’s bad.”
“You don’t know the half of it!” Suicide Blonde declared. She was flanked by stone replicas of Fin Fang Foom, Donar, Jarvis, and Lisa.
“On the count of three,” said Nats. “One… two… three!” He quickly levitated them back to their feet. “Okay, he said, your turn!”
“My turn for what?”
“Do something!” Nats yelled. “Wonder fern powers activate, man!”
“I, er… Well… I’m trying, y’see, but…”
“A super-villain is trying to kill us and you can’t get it up?”
“What did y…?”
“Your fern, stupid!” Nats said.
“Well, can’t you set her on fire with your mind, or something?”
“Maybe if you’d stop whining so I could concentrate!”
“Oh, right, like I’m the whiny one!”
“Yes! You are!” Nats said. “And you’ve got a limp fern!”
“Hey!” said spiffy. “You… oof!” The two of them were sent flying back from a sucker punch from the Finny statue.
“I’ll break you!” Suicide Blonde threatened. “Smash you up! And blow you to pieces!”
“Blow us to…? You didn’t say anything about a bomb!” spiffy panicked.
“Um… I kinda left that part out,” Nats said nervously as the Jarvis and Lisa statues crowded around him. The throbbing in his head was getting worse from the jostling about him, but he managed to dodge their assaults by whirling around and having them hit spiffy, instead.
“Ow! Ow! Dammit! Oof!” grunted spiffy.
Unfortunately, Nats soon realized he had whirled around from danger only to face… more danger, in the forms of the Donar and Finny statues, which began to pummel him. “Ooof! Ugh! Owie!”
“Listen… ouch!” said spiffy. “She’s your psychotic super-villain love interest, *you* handle this! Ugh!”
“If you hadn’t… agh! …gotten me into this mess,” Nats replied.
“Me? Argh!” grunted spiffy. “I have nothing to do with this! Ugh! Just… ow, dammit! Just let me out of here!”
“That’s… it!” hollered Nats. “Now I’m pissed!” He fought through the throbbing in his head and mustered enough telekinetic force to send the two statues assaulting him flying backwards. Then he proceeded to fight the other two statues by ramming spiffy into them.
“Hey, wha…? Ow! Dammit!” said spiffy. This at least helped him get enough gusto to put his fern back into action. Several fronds shot out, wrapped around the Jarvis and Lisa statues, and flung them away.
“No!” Suicide Blonde hissed. “You’ve cost me enough in psychiatric bills! Don’t you know who I am? I am the greatest of Dark Thugos’s Furies! I am one of the Three Cousins, destined to become the greatest power in the Parodyverse! I am granddaughter of the Celestian Madonna, and the fernbiote!”
“Wait!” interrupted spiffy. “Fernbiote? But… I’m the fernbiote!”
“Yet you, Nats, have spurned me! And, well, your little friend got in the way.”
“I am so not his friend!” said spiffy. “But what’s this about me mating?”
Suicide Blonde didn’t acknowledge young Hopkins’s protests. “Now you DIE!” she screamed, hurling the bomb at them.
“Wha--?” gasped spiffy.
Nats’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, shi--”
The explosive device hit the ground several feet in front of them, bounced once, and then… Then came the Messenger-sized, Simonson-written, Workman-lettered sound effect!
*CONFLAGRAFWACHOOOOOM!*
All was black, and dark. There was no shape, no mass, and no weight. The world was formless. Then, surprisingly, Nats found himself waking up.
“Uhhhhnnn…” he groaned. “Did someone get the number of that truck? I’m gonna write to my congressman…” He opened his eyes, and looked around him. “Wait a minute… aren’t I supposed to be dead?” He thought he saw a familiar figure on the ground a few feet away from him. “spiffy?” he called out. “’zat you?”
“I’m the mayor, dammit!” spiffy replied. “Whuuh… huh?” he began to wake up and look around as well. They both found themselves lying on grass which had frosted over. It was exceptionally cold out. In fact, it was snowing. “Oh, no…” spiffy said, suddenly realizing what had happened. “Oh, no, no, no…”
Nats tried to pick himself up, but only managed to bring himself up to his knees. He looked around him, and saw what appeared to be a small town. “Where are we?” he asked. “Didn’t we get blown up? Shouldn’t we be, like, dead? This isn’t how it was like the last few times I died…”
“We are dead,” spiffy told him. “I’ve been here before.”
“Where is here?” Nats asked.
“Hell,” said spiffy. “Hell, Nebraska.”
You guessed it… To Be Continued, in our next episode, “Hell Is Where the Heart Is!”
Strawberry Footnotes Forever:
Suicide Blonde is really Bambi Bacall. In the future, around the 23rd century, the three Kumari Triplets, daughters of the Celestian Madonna (and some fernbiote, who may or may not be spiffy) each give birth. These kids will grow up one day to be Goldeneyed, Exile, and, yes, Suicide Blonde. Some would say Bambi got the raw deal, raised by Dark Thugos (say, isn’t he an alternate version of spiffy?) on Apuffylip to become one of the greatest she-warriors on the planet. She can control all matter, which includes turning stuff into… other stuff, and bringing statues to life, and that sort of thing. And apparently she’s in love with Nats, until she blew him up, anyway. But that probably won’t stop her.
Dan Drury is the cigar-chompin’ super-spy in charge of SPUD (Supreme… Protectorate… um… U-Word… Division), which is the premiere super-spy organization. He never runs out of insults. …almost. As to what happened to him, and who those good-looking beings are, well, more on that next time.
Hell, Nebraska is where spiffy was trapped for a while when he died a few years back. It’s a cold and desolate small and grimy town, probably drawn by Frank Miller. Needless to say, spiffy isn’t too excited to be back there.
That’s it for this installment, folks!
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