Tales of the Parodyverse

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Nats
Tue Feb 03, 2004 at 01:30:57 pm EST
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The Pants Baron #6! By Nats and Balefire! It's finally over!
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Pants Baron #6!
Possibly Epic, Possibly the Conclusion!
By Nats & Balefire & Janet Jackson’s exposed breast!
More seat-of-the-pants-flying action!



"Phew. It's sure lucky we got away from Quake and the Florist who happened to be chasing us last issue," Nats announced to Tedite #04041 as he put down a red 10.

"Yeah it sure was. But do you really think it was a good idea to hide out in their strike jet?"

"Of course. And we even found this deck of UNO cards to keep us busy until some inevitable event occurs to move the plot along. Ha! Draw Two. Take that!"

Naturally, as things tend to happen in the Parodyverse, this was the moment when the jet began to shake terribly. "Something tells me we're taking off," said the Tedite.

"I had that odd feeling, too," agreed Nats, who then fell backwards and hit his head on something blunt and metallic. "Ow..." he said, referring to his latest concussion. "Well, hah! I got through that without going unconscious..."

It was of course at that moment, that by some odd twist in fate or perhaps the sudden shift in the jet's direction that sent a crate filled with roasted peanuts crashing down on Nats' head.

"Mmm, peanuts!" the Tedite observed, partaking of them. "Delicious. Now to find out who's piloting this jet..."

He made his way to what he figured was the pilot's cabin (the neon sign flashing the words 'pilot cabin' seemed to be a clue) and discovered a chimp with a flight suit and helmet behind the controls.

"Um...and who might you be?"

"'allo, mate! Whoy, Oi'd be Fitzgerald, the Barnstorming Monkey Pilot!"

The Tedite would have knocked himself unconscious, but compared to some of what had been going on, this appeared to be one of the more sane developments in his life. "Oh. So, you're a monkey... who's a pilot?"

"Don't leave out the Barnstorming bit," Fitzgerald replied. "And who might you be? A Tedite of some sort?"

"Yeah, how'd you know that?"

"Well, used to be one myself. # 04040. Those were the days."

"Wait...that's the number right before mine! And...hey, what happened to your accent?"

"What accent?" replied the ape. "Anyway, where are we off to?"

"Since when did Balefire have a monkey pilot?"

"Oh, I don't work for him. I'm more of a freelancer. I've done some work with the Lair Legion, too, you know. Now, where would you and your friends like to be off to?"

"Friends?" the Tedite wondered as several super-villains appeared behind him.

"Which friends?" Tedite #04041 asked Fitzgerald, obviously not noticing Quake, Grrl, the Florist, and Birthday Bandit standing behind him. "The guy I stowed away with is down the hall, third door on the left under a crate of roasted peanuts, so it obviously isn't him."

"Good thinking," Grrl replied. "It's actually just us. Quake, grab him."

"No!!!!" The Tedite responded as he backed into a corner, away from the villains. "You may capture me, but you'll never figure out where Nats is hidden."

"Say," said a familiar voice with a box of peanuts lodged on his head, walking towards the group. "These peanuts sure are something!" He stopped for a moment to wrench the crate off his cranium. "Ahh, there we..." Nats began. "Ahh crap."

"Crap indeed," the Tedite agreed as the villains began bludgeoning Nat's into unconsciousness with assorted foam weapons.

"It'll be a while until they get to you, so you might as well take a seat," Fitzgerald told him.

"I suppose so," #04041 sighed, grabbing a handful of peanuts. "We might as well get going then. Here are the coordinates for a cookie's and cream factory near Parodiopolis."

***

Meanwhile, at a cookies and cream factory near Parodiopolis...

"Aha!" aha'ed the Pants Baron. "It seems you tried to best me with the full combined might of your Council of Cross-Religion Popes, but it turns out that I have the upper hand! Yes, the Tap-Dancing Jewish Mafia is on my side, as are my pantalunatics!"

"It's true," said Depressed Pope. "It's all so hopeless. We should just surrender now..." he sobbed.

"Just because it's Depression Week doesn't mean anything!" said Jewish Pope. He turned to the Mafia. "Shame on you. I'm all faklempt now."

"Bwahaha! Attack, my Pantalunatics! Destroy them all! The rest of you, arm the hat gun!" The Pants Baron shouted to his minions. "Once the hat gun is ready, you will all fall like flies! Of course those would have to be wingless flies or you would otherwise simply fly, but that's beside the point!"

"What's that Dead Pope?" The Pope asked, turning around.

Dead Pope sat there.

Balefire, now as Evil Pope, took the lead. "This gets weirder and weirder...what's that thing?"

"This," said Ira Rosenblumstein, "Is our secret weapon! The Zamboni of Doom! And attached to it, our less-than-secret weapon, the Hatgun!"

"Of Doom," added Hiram Jewenberg.

"Is anyone here something other than a crude stereotype?" Balefire asked.

"Of course. Some of us are well developed stereotypes," Stereotypical Pope replied.

"Quickly, we must stop them from activating the Hat gun!" Tailor Pope said, making short work of the oncoming Pantalunatics.

Doctor Pope helped patched up those Popes wounded from the garment assault. American Idol Pope judged his enemies on the quality of their attacks and found them lacking.

"Quick!" said one of the Jewish Mafiosos. "Use your Deli weapons to take them down!"

Balefire/Evil Pope took cover under a pile of defeated trousers as the deadly barrage of meats, cheeses and condiments filled the air.

"Why you bastard! How could you?" The Pope yelled continuing his conversation with Dead Pope.

Dead Pope continued to slump there.

"What are you doing, The Pope?" Jewish Pope shouted across the room to their papal leader.

The Catholic Pope answered back. "It's Dead Pope! He's...he's a traitor! He's Traitor Pope!"

A collection of gasps filled the room, except for Tony Danza, who was drowning his sorrows in pickle juice.

"It's too bad it took you this long to figure it out!" The Pants Baron laughed aloud. "It's finally ready! Activate the Hatgun!"

Soap-on-a-Rope Pope cringed as the Hatgun powered up. He knew it was all over for them when the Zamboni of Doom unleashed it's deadly aresnal of homing hats.

The battle would have been over there and then, if not for the blanket of nuclear flame that consumed the Pantalunatics.

Dead Pope didn't move. This was probably because he was dead.

"So," said Balefire. "You set us up, huh? You tipped the Mafia off? Was that it? Well, forget this! I'm not Evil Pope any longer! You can have it back! You can be Evil Dead Pope!"

The Lair Legion arrived, as did a jet piloted by a monkey and accompanied by Nats, a Tedite, and Balefire's team of super-villains.

"That's odd," Finny said as he landed inside of the factory. "I thought I was the only one who could have destroyed the Zamboni of Doom with nuclear fire."

"No that was me!" A small man with a goatee that only evil villains have yelled up to Finny.

"And who are you?"

"I'm a long lost plot idea that everybody forgot about when they were writing this story. I am.... Evil Spiffy Jr.!!!"

Finny stepped on him. "Right."

Tedite #04041 had radioed into the other Tedites, those worshippers of whom they believed to be some guy named Ted in a coma outside of our reality, dreaming our world, and they barged in and attacked.

Nats freed Dark Knight and Messenger. "Thanks," DK said, punching Nats in the face and knocking him unconscious. "Wow, Balefire was right. That was therapeutic!"

Evil Dead Traitor Pope slumped, locked in mortal combat with The Pope. Neither combatant was aware of the battle around them. The Pope tried baiting his opponent, attempting to break his concentration, but Evil Dead Traitor Pope had the cool, rigid demeanor of a dead man.

Balefire determined they were both idiots as he and the Tedites carved a path to the Pants Baron.

"I believe you have my pants," said Balefire to the Pants Baron, as chaos erupted around them. Hats and Pants and Jews were flying everywhere from the rampaging assault.

"Perhaps I do," said the Pants Baron. "But personally, you look better in a sk---URK!" Balefire decked him.

"Grah! You can't win!" The Pants Baron declared. "Dead Pope! Show them who you truly are!"

A gasp went around the room as Dead Pope slumped meaningfully.

"You see! Evil Dead Traitor Pope is no other than the Ted Pope. And he has declared me the Ted avatar! Bow down before me Tedites, I am the incarnation of Ted within his dreamscape!"

One of the Tedites looked to another. "...hmm, that's right! Don't the sacred scriptures say that one day, the man with pants on his head shall lead us into the glory of a new dawn, and that robed men with pointy hats will be the gateway?"

"Dude, you wrote that on a McDonald's napkin this morning when you were drunk."

All the Tedites began bowing anyway. "All hail the Pants Baron, leader of the Way of the Ted!"

"You see! It is hopeless for you to struggle." The Pants Baron announced as he picked up The Pope's fallen pope hat. "All that is left for me to do is change my pants and place this hat on my head. Then I will become the leader of The Council of Cross-Religion Popes, and no one will be left to stop me! Bwahaha!"

Everyone looked on in awe as he placed the Pope hat on his head and brandished Hatman's pants.

"Now for the...um...what the...?" the Pants Baron's entire body trembled, and began to reshape itself. "Oh, no, what's...help me!"

"Sorry, Pantsy," Balefire told him. "It seems, when you put Hatman's pants on to steal his powers, you forgot the headwear you were already wearing, your face-pants. So, crotch-for-a-face, let's see how you get out of this one."

"Arrrrgh!" shouted the Pants Baron, as he changed into a pair of pants himself.

"A fitting end, then," said Balefire.

"Well, all's well that ends well," Nats announced as he stood up from the latest of his concussions.

Unexpectedly, the Kool-Aid Man burst through the wall behind him, with his trademark "Ohhhhhh Yeeeeeaaaahhhhh!" covering Nats with a pile of bricks.

Nats picked himself out of the rubble. "Um, owch," he said. "Where's Doctor Pope when you need him?"

"Ohhhhhhh yeeeeeaaahhhhhh!" Kool-Aid Man exclaimed again. "Who wants some delicious sugary liquid refreshment!?!"

"I do, I do!" smiled Messenger happily, skipping over. "Mmm, mine's cherry! At least, I think."

Nats tried some. "Mine tastes like green!" he cheered.

***

Suddenly, a man named Ted woke up screaming from his hospital bed.

"Aaaagh! My God...what a vivid dream..." said the man who had been in a coma for the past few months.

The End!



Alternate Ending:

The next day, Sorceress and Hatman were fixing up their room in the Lair Mansion together. “Well, that was an eventful past few issues,” Jay said. “But I’m glad everything’s back to normal.

“Me too,” agreed Whitney. “Now let’s just…hey!”

“What is it?”

“My green skirt’s missing. And…hey! My maroon one, too.”

“I hope this doesn’t mean…” Hatman began.

Suddenly, Dancer burst through the door. “Where have all the skirts gone?” she cried.

Meanwhile, at a factory that makes those little umbrellas that come with drinks…

“Hahahah!” laughed a figure wearing a kilt and a miniskirt over his face. “I have stolen their skirts and kilts right out from under them! Soon, the world will fear the name of…the Skirt Baron!”

The End this time. No, really.




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