Tales of the Parodyverse

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Dancer ;-)
Wed May 25, 2005 at 05:47:05 am EDT
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Dancer Presents: Confusingly Bad Crossovers #7b: “He is very handsome. And I am sure he is a very nice man. I would date him.”
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Dancer Presents: Confusingly Bad Crossovers #7b: “He is very handsome. And I am sure he is a very nice man. I would date him.”

[The Story So Far: Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away, mighty Galactivac, the Living Death That Sucks, got blown up by his own Galactic Nobbler, which is a phallic-shaped big explody thing designed to, well basically blow up Galactivac. This left Galactivac’s heralds kind of unemployed, and slightly pissed. And when the flaky neurotic Crimson Cyclist, the psychopathic Terrorox the Tortuous, and the sadistic Undermind Obscura get pissed everyone’s going to have a bad hair day.

Oh, and there was this fourth herald too, but she was too busy failing dancing auditions on her way to inevitable stardom to be pissed about that. She was mildly pissed that Messenger, Nats, and Nitz the Bloody weren’t investing enough time in the Parodyverse though, so she put on her superhero guise as the Probability Dancer and took them on a wonderful adventure to the city of Goth Haven, where the other Heralds were looking for something that would resurrect their master Galactivac, then planned to wipe out all life on Earth. Just because.

Did I mention that Dancer is smart and sexy and should be played by Catherine Zeta-Jones in the movie version? Anyway, on with the story. Nitz, Nats, and Messy are just coming second in a struggle to the death with the Heralds, and Dancer has wandered off to do something more important.

No, not shoe shopping. Well, not only shoe shopping.]

[The Scene: The spookily-deserted Goth Haven Mall, where Dancer is looking through the window of the Gulp-and-Go. There’s nobody there, of course, because the Cyclist has used his vibrational velocity powers to phase all the citizens out of time. No, really, go look at the last chapter.]

Dancer: Hmm. Now if I was a major doohicky that could bring Galactivac to life, where in Goth Haven would I be? In fact why would I be in Goth Haven at all?

[Dancer looks at the big multi-screen mall advert for Goth haven’s media superheroes the Wonderful Seven. Jet Starscream smiles handsomely down from the video ad.]

Jet: Hi. I’m Jet Starscream, the world’s greatest superhero! And I’m here to invite you to visit the Wonderful Seven Appreciation Museum, right here in the Goth Haven Mall. See the greatest collection of Wonderful Seven memorabilia in the world. Buy all our DVD adventures. Gaze in awe at animatronic replicas of me and the other Wonderfuls in battle with some of our deadliest foes…

Dancer: He is very handsome. And I am sure he is a very nice man. I would date him.

Jet: And special this week, check out the mystery space object the W7 and little old me retrieved from some galaxy so far away that they’ve never even heard of Jet Starscream! Yeah, that’s how primitive these guys are. Can you believe those dweebs were actually worshiping this?

Dancer, looking at the mystery object in the advert: Um Jet, isn’t that the Galactic Nobbler you’ve got there? Also known as the Universal Discombobulator according to my notes? Could that possibly be what the Heralds of Galactivac have come looking for, do you think?

[Meanwhile, Messenger, Nats, and Nitz are getting pounded on so badly that they don’t even have time to bicker with each other. So basically they’re happier than they have been since the mission began.]

Undermind Obscura: You have been betrayed to your death by the Probability Dancer. She has sacrificed you to cruel death at the hands of the Heralds of Galactivac!

Nats: Nah. I’m guessing she’s off on some subplot even now, while we’re keeping you busy screaming and bleeding and stuff.

Messenger: Or she could be shoe shopping.

Nats: Yeah. There’s always the shoe shopping possibility also.

Nitz the Bloody: Is this the point where we put our differences aside and bond as a well-honed fighting unit to turn the tables on the bad guys?

Messenger: No.

Terrorox the Tumultuous: I command all bones. Now I have seized control of the very skeletons inside your bodies. Dance, my flesh puppets, dance!

Crimson Cyclist: Why do you always make your victims do the Funky Chicken? That is just inhumane. There have to be some limits to your cruelty.

Terrorox the Terpsichorean: I happen to like the Funky Chicken, for your information. It is a very underrated piece of choreography.

Undermind Obscura: Keep them clucking while I peel back each layer of their mind and expose it to the epitome of horror.

Nitz: Worse than the Funky Chicken?

Undermind: Oh yes… *delves into Nitz’ mind*

Nitz: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagadoo doo doo push pineapple shake that tree…

Nats: You bastards!

Messenger: I’m going to get grim and gritty on your asses for this.

Crimson Cyclist: I wouldn’t make Undermind angry. You wouldn’t like her when she’s angry.

Dancer: It’s true. She gets really whiney and pouts.

The Heralds of Galactivac: Dancer!

Messy, Nitz, and Nats: Dancer!

Dancer: Dancer. And I have something you might all be interested in. *holds up the Galactic Nobbler*

Nats: Did you borrow that from Lisa’s collection?

Cyclist: The Nobbler! Um, that’s the trigger button you’re resting your thumb on.

Dancer: Is it? I’m not that technically competent. I have trouble programming VCRs. Mind you, Bautistamax 3000s tend to blow up if you push the wrong buttons too.

Messenger: I’m ready to die in a holocaust that takes out this solar system and a dozen like it. In fact I haven’t died for months now, so I’m well overdue. Plus I like to doom the universe occasionally. So basically I’m ready to play apocalypse. How about you Heralds?

Terrorox the Troubled: She is bluffing. She would never wipe out her own planet. Would she?

Nitz the Bloody: Hey, you were going to take out all life on Earth. She’s just making sure that if we go you go. And you haven’t seen how ruthless she can be. She was going to make us sing Kum-By-Ya.

Undermind: With that device we can reverse the dissipation of our master Galactivac, Dancer. We can become supremely powerful, fulfilling our cosmic destiny as Heralds once again. And maybe get a wage hike.

Dancer: It’s not going to happen, Undermind. You’re going to pack up, apologise nicely to Messy, Nats, and Nitz, bring back all the people that got dimensionally dislocated, swear a vow never to come back to Earth again, then leave forever. Or I’ll let my fingers do the walking.

Nats: See. I told you Dancer wasn’t going to let us die just because we weren’t being supportive enough of the whole superhero adventures thing.

Nitz: Actually you didn’t tell us that at all. And I’m still post-human. In fact by now I may be post-post human. Or even post-post-post human.

Messenger: Actually, the word for you is…

Dancer: Guys, focus. We’re just seeing Cyclist, Terrorox, and Undermind off the plant, okay?

Nitz: If they’ve surrendered I can banisheku them.

Nats: Admit it. You only do that –eku ending stuff to annoy people, don’t you?

Undermind: You win this time, Dancer. But this is far from over. We know where the Nobbler is now, and even if we vow never to return, we shall plot and scheme and one day…

Dancer: Yeah. So I’m going to see the Nobbler is looked after a bit better than in Jet Starscream’s museum. Although I have left behind my phone number so he can call me to find out what’s happened. Over drinks.

Messenger: You want me to swallow the Nobbler? I’m used to carrying lethal devices around inside my body.

Nats: You couldn’t swallow that Nobbler, dude. You’d have to stick it up your…

Dancer: Actually, improbably, the exact person we need to pass this on to has arrived this very minute.

Cyclist: Those probability-dancing powers must make plotting a whole lot easier.

Terrorox the Tyrannical: What power on this puny planet can deny the will of the Heralds of Galactivac.

The Hooded Hood: Good evening.

Terrorox: Ah.

Nats: Hold it! You can’t give that Nobbler to him! He’s the freakin’ archvillain.

Nitz: Post-human meta-adversary.

The Hood: Mr Reed is correct. I am the archvillain. I’m nothing if not a traditionalist.

Nitz: *shudders*

Messenger: You’re not having the Nobbler, Hood. I’ll die first.

The Hood: Very likely. However, first the Heralds had best depart. *glares at Undermind, Terrorox, and the Cyclist* Now.

Nitz: Banisheku! *Heralds vanish* Yay! I mean, quite good. I suppose. Average.

Nats: Don’t get a swelled head. You’ll never get your bucket off.

Messenger, pulling a razor letter: Now, cowled crime czar…

Dancer: Messy, there’s no need. Look… *thumbs the detonate button on the Nobbler*

Nats: Aaaaaagh!

Nitz: Notexplodeku! Notexplodeku!

Messenger: Pff! Death!

The Hood: You will note, as I did, that the device has discharged its cosmic energies and is now passive. Having detonated Galactivac its purpose is done, and it is now powerless.

Dancer: I didn’t see we had to share that with the Heralds though. *tosses the Nobbler to the Hood* Here. Do something devious with it.

The Hood: Indeed.

Nats: You had to say that, didn’t you?

The people of Goth Haven: What just happened? Who are you? Why does that man have a metal chamberpot on his head?

Nats: So everything is back to normal and the world is safe again for people to bicker and snipe about dumb costumes and lack of hygiene.

Nitz: We’ve served our time? We can go?

Dancer: You’ve done very well boys, considering. So now we all go down to the Gulp-n-Go and I buy you milk shakes. My treat.

Messenger: The torment is never going to end, is it?

The Hood: The Hooded Hood does not do milkshakes.

Dancer: Well really that depends on you, doesn’t it? I’d hate to have to do a Dancer/Hood team-up story. So let’s see you shaping up too, okay?

Nitz: Is it me or is she scary? Okay, one milkshake, and then we’re done.

Dancer: Also, we need to discuss Nitz joining the Lair Legion…

Nitz: Aaaaaaaaagadoo doo doo…

[Next issue: Nitz and Messenger have a mix up at the laundry and end up having to take on each others identities to fight crime. Meanwhile, Nats forgets Uhuna’s anniversary and has to travel back in time to sleep with her grandmother.]




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