Tales of the Parodyverse

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J. Jonah Jerkson
Mon Jan 31, 2005 at 11:03:35 pm EST
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Family Team-up; The Zemoes join the LL/Avengers melee
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Family Team-up: The Zemoes join the LL/Avengers melee.


[Pound, pound, pound]

“I’ll take care of that, your excellency,” Franz the major-domo intoned.

Opening the door, he found a short, stocky man attired in a purple uniform and a stainless-steel face mask. “I’m sorry, sir,” Franz sneered, “but the costume ball must be down the street.”

“You will take me to your mistress, at once!” the stranger bellowed in the snarling German accent beloved of scriptwriters for Grade Z movies.

“The Baroness does not receive visitors without an appointment,” the major-domo riposted.

“I am Baron Heinrich Zemo, and I demand to see this Baroness Zemo immediately!" he screamed.

“It’s all right, Franz,” came a woman’s voice. “Bring him in to the hunt room before he starts chewing the scenery.”

“Hey buddy, you owe me 32 bucks for the trip and the waiting time,” the cab driver shouted. “And the meter’s still running.”

“You will take care of this lackey,” Zemo snapped at the servant as he entered the door.

Moments later, Heinrich Zemo faced Baroness Elizabeth Zemo across the floor of the hunt room.

“Would you care to explain yourself?” she began.

“I am Baron Heinrich Zemo of the Marvel Universe. Through a series of inexplicable events I and lesser beings of our universe have been propelled into your universe. As I have been given another chance in effect, I will conquer the Avengers, obtain the artifacts, and rule this universe as a base for returning and recapturing my own.”

“And you’re going to do this with a wallet that can’t even cover cab fare?” the Baroness inquired.

“You, of course, will assist me. You will first advise me of the whereabouts of this universe’s Baron Zemo, and we will eliminate him together.”

“He’s dead. I inherited.”

“Excellent!” Baron Zemo shouted. “Now show me to your laboratories, where I will prepare my Ultimate Weapon to smash the Avengers yet again!”

“Do you always shout?” Elizabeth replied. “And anyway, why should I become your servant?”

“You are a Zemo!” Heinrich bellowed.

“You’re no relative of mine,” Elizabeth observed. “And I’m staying away from this little party. If villains like our Thighmaster and Count Fokker are after those magical doodads, I’m out. They’re a guarantee of major disasters.”

“I am talking about the ultimate power to determine the fate of universes!” Heinrich bellowed again. “Is your mind is too petty to appreciate that?”

“How many times have you had ‘the ultimate power’ in your hands? Twenty? Fifty? And what’s happened every time? It blows up in your face, or you’re defeated. Hello, don’t you see a pattern here?”

“More like one hundred and thirty-six. But that is immaterial. I am Baron Heinrich Zemo, and my destiny is to rule the world!"

“All right, I’m in.”

“I refuse to accept any of your excuses! As my counterpart in this universe, it is your duty to join me -- wait a second, did you say you were in?”

“I’m in. This is the Parodyverse, and if something as strange happens as your showing up on my doorstep angling for my help in recovering some metaphysical doomsday devices from a bunch of costumed crazies from your universe and mine, I’ve got to go along.”

“I am not strange. Merely warped.”

“Whatever. And how do you intend to obtain one of these objects from six of our universe’s supervillains, the Lair Legion, the Avengers, the Hooded Hood and Victor von Doom?”

“Doom is here?” Baron Heinrich’s voice was almost a whisper.

“In the flesh. He made Page Six of the Daily Trombone today.”

“This may require a re-think. Why don’t you take me to dinner, and we can discuss this.”

“My chef Gunter is quite competent. And he makes a tafelspitz like mother used to make.” Elizabeth smiled with the memory.

“And Salzburger nockerln for dessert?”

“With apricot sauce.”

“I accept. But I want two helpings. Transdimensional travel is very trying.”

. . . .

“So, this is the plan. We steal the artifacts using my teleportation machine, duplicate them with my matter-energy cloning device, and return the duplicates. The cloned duplicates will work almost as well as the originals for some period of time and will then become inert.”

“Almost as well?” Elizabeth was skeptical.

“I should say – unpredictably.”

“Just like everything in the Parodyverse. We won’t be able to tell the difference.”

“A detail.” Heinrich sneered. “Now, from whom do we make the first snatch?”

“Well, if my taps on the Lair Legion’s communicators are to be believed, four of the artifacts have disappeared just at the time the heroes defeated my colleagues who had them. Presumably the Hooded Hood retrieved them for himself and Doom.” Heinrich gasped involuntarily. “The remaining two are held by Dark Thugos and Count Fokker; Thugos, who has the Ultimate Nullifier, is an almost-all powerful cosmic entity; Fokker is a buffoon. He has the ‘Evil Eye.’”

“We will retrieve both items,” the Baron declared.

“Fine. I’ll take Fokker, you take Thugos.”

“Agreed. I will take Anvil Man as backup.”

“Boy, you really like to live dangerously,” Elizabeth mumbled.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Elizabeth evaded.

. . . .

“O.K, Sally, we’re going to teleport you to Fokker’s headquarters,” the Baroness explained.. “Remember, the thaumaturgometer will lead you to the Evil Eye. When you locate it, grab it and signal me to bring you back. If you can’t get it, send me the coordinates, and I’ll teleport it separately.”

“Isn’t the place going to be filled with HERPES men?”

“Yes, but you can’t get infected.”

“I mean, guards, laser beams, alarms, all that schtick.”

“Our plan is foolproof, FOOLPROOF!” Baron Heinrich interjected. “Obey my instructions or face the consequences!”

“Don’t worry, Sally,” Elizabeth moved to calm her assistant. “Fokker never hires anyone smarter than himself. That makes his guards somewhat dumber than your average Thanksgiving turkey.”

“Before or after roasting?”

“After.”

A few moments later, the transparent trollop appeared in a deserted hallway in HERPES headquarters. Consulting Baron Zemo’s thaumaturgometer, she stepped silently toward the executive suite at the end of the hallway. As she approached the double doors at the hallway’s end, a guard turned the corner and halted.

“Who iz zere?”

Sally flattened herself against the wall and slid into a small alcove. “Come quickly. The American is over here,” she whispered back.

“Very gut. I come.”

As the hapless guard came to the alcove, one rubbery arm grasped his head and cut off his voice while the other wrapped around his neck until he slumped to the floor, unconscious. A few minutes later, the guard was tied and gagged, while Sally slid into his uniform and stretched herself to his size.

“Auf wiedersehen, y’all,” she muttered to the still unconscious minion, and headed up the hallway to the great oaken doors.

Beyond the doors was Count Fokker’s private office, but a quick search failed to uncover the artifact. The thaumaturgometer lead Sally to a concealed door, which was locked tight. Liquifying herself and leaving her clothes and kit behind, the silicone spy slipped under the door and reformed herself. She found herself in Fokker’s bedroom. Fortunately, the master of Parody Earth’s largest grouping of dedicated sadists preferred sleeping with his night light on. In addition to Count Fokker in Winnie the Pooh pajamas, the bed contained a large stuffed anteater toy, firmly grasped in one arm, and the Evil Eye, held by the other. Stretching her arm carefully to the bed, Sally measured the distance from the door and the size of the artifact. It was too large to teleport without bringing the Count with it; the Evil Eye would have to be removed from his grasp.

Silicone Sally began the careful process of extracting the metal artifact from its possessor’s grip. Just as she began removing his pinky finger from the barrel of the Eye, he stirred.

“What … who,” he mumbled.

Sally froze, watching in fear as his fingers began groping for the Evil Eye. An inspiration came.

“It’s Piglet, Count Fokker,” she whispered in her squeakiest voice. “Pooh was looking for you in the Hundred-Acre Wood.”

“Ach, Piglet, mine favorite,” he mumbled. “Tell me the story about zer big flood again.”

“It rained,” Sally improvised. “It rained and rained, and Pooh Bear was very hungry in his cave . . . .”

Five minutes later, Count Fokker was snoring, and a very strung-out Silicone Sally was on the other side of the bedroom door, radioing the coordinates of the relocated Evil Eye to Elizabeth. Half an hour later, she had returned to the bedroom and eased the cloned duplicate back into the snoring Count’s empty arm. Part one of the Baron’s plan was complete.

Next time: Baron Zemo and Anvil Man confront Dark Thugos. Dr. Doom suspects something is afoot. Treachery blossoms.

Playing the parts of Baron Heinrich Zemo and Baroness Elizabeth Zemo:

J. Jonah Jerkson
VOICE OF THE PEOPLE


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