Tales of the Parodyverse

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killer shrike
Sat Feb 12, 2005 at 12:01:11 pm EST
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Blonde on Green
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Avengers/Lair Legion Continues… Sorta


“Blonde on Green”



The fugitive found himself in a familiar predicament: stumbling through a non-descript alley in the dark of night. Or perhaps early morning. He had no idea of the time, the date, or even the place his latest adventure had taken him.

There was a snarl behind him. The stranger turned and saw a large, feral dog coming up behind. His heart began to pound, his pulse quickened in a countdown to possible catastrophe.

“Easy, fella,” he tried placating one beast while reining in another, “This your alley? I had no idea.”

The animal lunged at the man, who quickly bolted. He winced in pain as his bare feet trod through a minefield of smashed beer bottles. Between the ache and the fear he could feel himself losing control.

Then there was the flash of headlights and the squeal of tires. Then Doctor Bruce Banner felt nothing at all.

*****


“OmiGodomiGodomiGod!” Jenni Wooster fretted as she stared down at the man she had broadsided with her car, “I killed him!”

Trudi Wooster lifted her petticoats to squat down and make a closer observation, “I don’t think so. He’s still breathing.”

“But look at the blood!” Jenni said tearfully, as she gnawed at her hair.

“Stop that. Do you want another bezoar?” Trudi tapped at her chin, “The blood is all on his feet, sister. It looks like he cut them on broken glass.”

The taller twin stopped sniffling, “What should we do? Should we call the police?”

“Hey!” Trudi poked at the man’s chest, “Hey! You awake?”

The vagrant’s eyes opened dramatically. He quickly sat up and clutched his sides.

“Take it easy. You were just in an accident.”

“You ran right out in front of me!” Jenni came close to shrieking.

Doctor Banner glared at the direction of the noise. Two young girls, impossibly dressed in gingham dresses and pig tails, were gesturing and shouting at him. Then he saw the car, a sporty red MG with “TWINZ” vanity plates registered to a state he knew he should be nowhere near. It was all too much negative stimuli for the haunted man. He began to growl in a tone very similar to the animal that led him to be nearly run over.

Trudi and Jenni Wooster scuttled away from the howling vagrant, whose screams suddenly took on a more basso profoundo timbre. The pair watched in horror as the man’s muscles swelled and skin greened. In mere moments the scrawny pale indigent was gone, replaced by seven feet and one half ton of gamma-spawned fury.

The Incredible Hulk was loose in the Parodyverse.

*****


The Jade Giant took hold of the sports car and crumpled it into a nearly perfect sphere.

“Mr. Vroom!” Jenni lamented the loss of her 21st birthday present.

“RAHRR! Hulk crush stupid Mr. Vroom! Mr. Vroom drives too fast!” he turned to consider the cowering women.

“Y-yes, absolutely,” Trudi nodded her head furiously, “Good riddance, I say.”

“Trudi, our bags are in there,” her sister whispered, then grew quiet after a well-placed nudge in the kidneys compelled her.

“Where is Hulk? Hulk remembers big fight with Flag Man and Long Hair and Tin Man in other place. But other place is not this place!”

Jenni answered, “You’re in Paradopolis,” she cocked her head, “Wait: you’re the Incredible Hulk, aren’t you?”

“Who else would Hulk be? Except puny Banner! Hulk hate puny Banner!”

“He’s not on my top ten list right now either,” Jenni admitted.

“Sister, perhaps its time to take our leave of Mr. Hulk?” Trudi scanned the deserted thoroughfare for any sign of oncoming traffic. A truckload of Marines would have been appreciated.

Jenni objected, “We just can’t leave him here! He’s lost and alone in a strange city. Besides, we still need to exchange insurance information with puny Banner.”

“Well, what do you suggest we do with him? We’re on our way to….”

Trudi Wooster grew contemplative. For weeks she and her sister had struggled for entrée into the Meta-class. Their familial connection hadn’t panned out, and neither had their participation in the Lair Legion’s Christmas holiday at the Wilton Estate. But perhaps with the aid of the Green Goliath, the highest social strata would finally be open to them. The cherubic young woman stared up into the monster’s angry eyes.

“Hey Hulk, wanna party?”

*****


Meanwhile, in an undisclosed top secret underground bunker located beneath nearby Fort Hama:

“Sir, the Gamma Scanalyzer just picked up massive energy readings!” the soldier told his watch commander.

“What?! Where?”

The man punched some commands into his station’s keyboard, “My God, sir, he’s right in the heart of Paradopolis!”

“Eight million people sleep, unaware that the beast walks amongst them,” the officer, and struggling screen-writer, intoned while shaking his head dramatically. Then he gave the order.

“Wake General Ahab. Then call a, a… general alert. Tell the men to suit up and er, mount up,” redundancy was one of Major Talcum’s weaknesses as an author.

“Yes, sir,” the board operator hit the alarm, “Yurt Busters are Go!!!”

*****


Michael Wooster was having that odd dream again where he and Honoria Sesselby were building the world’s largest banana split in order to save the New Year’s Baby. Honoria had just fallen in the pineapple topping when the phone rang. The young man came to and answered.

“Hullo?”

“Michael, it’s Jenni. We need your help.”

Michael squinted at his clock radio: 3:27, “Jenni, do you know what time it is?”

“Not to the exact minute, no. Did I wake you?”

“Did you-“ Michael stopped himself and counted to three, “What’s wrong, Jenni? And why do I hear banjo music?”

“That’s the band. I’m calling from Barn.”

By now Michael was up and heading to his bathroom, “I’m afraid I’m going to need more of an explanation.”

“Barn: that new club on Nocetti Drive. It hosts the Hillbilly Raves.”

“Jenni, is Trudi there? Put her on the phone, please.”

Jenni scowled and handed the cell to her fraternal twin, “He wants to talk to you.”

“Of course,” Trudi replied smugly before taking up the phone, “Good morning, Michael! I apologize for sister’s usual meandering. To be succinct: we’re having some trouble with the Incredible Hulk, and were hoping you could swing by and lend a hand. Bring your costume. Bye!”

Michael put down the phone and counted to five. Then he went over what he knew.

He had to be up for work in exactly two hours.

His uniform still smelled from Tuesday’s encounter with Doctor Manta.

Trudi and Jenni were prone to exaggeration when … in their cups.

Bluegrass music was untenable.

The Incredible Hulk?!

Still, they were his sisters, and he was a super hero.

Sighing, Michael Wooster retrieved his Alcheman costume from the hamper and girded his loins for adventure.

Next: Everybody’s at Barn. Alcheman. The Hulk. The Wooster Twins. The Yurt Busters. And maybe a few Legionnaires/Avengers (it’s their crossover, right?). Coming soon in “Hoedown Showdown!”







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