Tales of the Parodyverse

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Messenger
Wed Apr 27, 2005 at 12:10:35 am EDT

Subject
2005 Hell Friar's Roast of Hatman Part 2 (late night, so put all the kids to sleep...)
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Warning: Mature content. If naughty words and adult themes offend you, you shouldn't read this.


Hell Friar's Roast of Hatman

Part 2: And Lo... There Shall Come a Censor!


It was the Hell Friar's Roast for Hatman and all the old faces were packed into the small, decrepit venue which resembled an old-time movie theater. You had your Trickshots and your Fleabots; your Nats and your Nitz; your heriones and.. uh... your heroin addicts (but just one or two... we're running a clean show here, god dammit!). Most of these colorful characters (literally all colors of the rainbow) were slowly intoxicating themselves on the finest Sake brewed from the genetically altered rice grains of Monstrous Island... in between yawning and glancing at their watches of course.

Currently, you could hear a pin drop in the club. As Visionary sheepishly made his way from the podium, his shoulders slumped, he wondered if his act had something to do with the dead mood. "Just like Dangerfield..." he mumbled as he sat back down at the table with Fleabot, Hallie and Lisa. He grabbed a passing waiter by the lapel and yanked him down to the table: "Sake. Now!"

"Ri- Right away... Mister.... um-..." the waiter stuttered. "Mister... Mister..."

"Visionary..." Lisa whispered in his ear.

"Oh. OH! RIGHT! The fake man!" the waiter grinned. That grin turned into a snicker. The snicker became a laugh, which in turn became uncontrollable hysterics. The waiter nonchalantly peeled Visionary's fingers off his lapel and walked away still guffawing.

"You-... uh... you guys think he's getting my Sake...?"

Lisa shook her head and sighed. "Eat your veal, dear."

"This is Hatman's roast! Not mine! Am I missing something here?! Do I never get a break?!" He raised his fist towards the ceiling. "Is there no justice?!?" he shouted so loud, the assorted heroes at the surrounding tables whispered and discreetly pointed in his direction.

Visionary slumped into his seat. "I'm real, dammit..."


"Well, let's hear a round of applause for... uh..." Bob the Chipper Torturer double-checked his televised cue. "uh... Whizinator..." he squinted his eyes. "Oh, wait that's not right... Visionary! Yeah, that's it. Round of applause for Visionary!"

There was silence... then a solitary clap. Somewhere an old man was playing a violin.


"Lisa... I want to go home..." Vizh whined.

"Shhh..." she pushed her finger against his lips. "We'll miss the show..."


"Okay... next up... we got us a real special treat... yessir... he kills more people before breakfast than some third world countries kill all day!" Bob gave the audience a toothy grin. "Let's give a warm welcome to ... Messenger!"

The heroes in the front hesitantly applauded. There were scattered boos from the back. This didn't bother the Postman. He knew they only let the dregs in the back.

"You killed my sister's boyfriend, Redneck Rabble-Rouser!" one man screamed in a Southern twang.

"Ahh... Shaddup!" Messenger lurched towards the podium, tripping over several chairs on his way. "Only reason I came here was for that damn Sake... Urp..." he slumped over a table as if he were about to vomit. Green Ninja backed away from his plate as Messenger dry-heaved over his food. "ewww..."

"It's okay... nothing's coming up..." he reassured the C-list hero. "Now, give me a little push towards the front."

Green Ninja was only too happy to kick him away.

The postman collapsed against the stage and then pulled himself up to the microphone.

"What the Hell you all staring at?" he demanded as he stumbled around on stage. "We're gonna have some fucking fun... at this-... this bastard's expense! Yeah, I'm talking to you... you slimey... slimey..." Messenger trailed off as he pointed at Hatman, who was just off-stage and was now sweating uncontrollably. Hatty tugged at his collar and leaned over to Bob who was now seated next to him. "Uh... I thought only friends were allowed to roast you?"

"What... you mean you two aint friends?"

"We hate each other."

"Ooooh boooy..." Bob whistled through his teeth. "Oh well. Can't be any worse than Whizinator's act."

Messenger went straight into his act. "So... So... shyou know..." he slurred his words and leaned against the wall, desperately trying to keep the floor from spinning out from under him. "I always wondered what would happen if Hatty tried to put a condom on his head.... I mean, he's already a dick head, so I guess there wouldn't be much of a differensh... *hic*..."


"Oh Jesus..." a security guard whispered as he watched Messenger flail around on stage and curse out more audience members. "Not him!"

"We're at code-red!" he whispered in his mouth piece.


Meanwhile...


In a darkened room, illuminated only by the light of twenty television screens, a man gritted his teeth beneath the black hood which adorned his head. He watched his flickering screens. It captured Messenger from every angle... stumbling from one side of the stage to the other... and it made him angry. His rage boiled over, frothing out of his mouth... but he made sure it stayed PG.

"That darn, rotten, smelly egg!" the black hooded man whispered in a sinister voice which seemed to drip with evil. "For years, I have done my best to keep nipples and those four-letter words off my air. But now... this... this... jerk-face ... is that appropriate, Jenkins? "Jerk-face"?" the hooded man paused to get confirmation.

Jenkins pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and quickly scans a clip-board. "Jerk-face isn't listed..."


"Okay... as I was saying.... this jerk-face thinks he can ruin my clean, prime-time broadcast with his rock 'n roll ways. First we had Elvis... then Janet Jackson... now Messenger... Hooligans. ALL OF THEM!" the hooded man slammed his fist down on the table, spilling his mug of decaf coffee. "They'll all be censored. So swears ... the Auto-Censor! MWAHAHAHAHAAHAAAA... Oh, and Jenkins..."

"Yes sir?" his subordinate quickly answered.

"Get me one of those darn Gotham Haven hookers for after the show. Censoring is doggone hard work."

"Yes sir!"

"Now... Messenger..." the Auto-Censor furrowed his brow beneath his hood as he studied the screen. "Where was I? Oh right. MWAHAHAHAAHAHAAA!"


To be continued by whoever...


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