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Post By Hatman wishes Al a Merry Christmas Tue Dec 27, 2005 at 03:28:54 pm EST |
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A Very Parody Christmas - Part 4 | |
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“That’s ‘Gaz all right,” said Kerry as she, Ham-Boy, and Fashion Accessory raced through the trees. Ham-Boy was on point, clearing the way with a jerky shield.
The three Juniors burst into a clearing to find their DemiHemi member grappling with a large creature wielding a club. “We’ve got to help him!” cried out Samantha.
“Nay, good friends!” shouted Harlagaz. “I have taken yon caitiffs measure, and I find it lacking!” He twisted his arm free and delivered a devastating uppercut to his opponents chin. The creature dropped his club and slumped to the ground unconscious.
“Nice goin’ Gaz,” congratulated Kerry. “What is that thing?”
“It’s a troll,” piped up Ham-Boy.
“And how would you know?” asked Samantha.
“Cause I’ve seen Lord of the Rings,” replied the Hamtastic Avenger. “That thing is a troll.”
“Young Fred dost speak truly,” confirmed Harlagaz. “Tis a troll indeed. He didst try to make lunch of me, but he didst find me an unwilling victim.”
“First a fawn, now a troll. I wonder where we are?” puzzled Samantha. “Figures Visionary wouldn’t be here to give us credit for this.”
Suddenly Hacker Nine came tearing into the glade, running as if he feared for his life. He had a wild look in his eyes and many scratches where the trees had left their mark. He would have run right past his teammates if Harlagaz had not grabbed him by the shoulders.
“What’s wrong Zach?” asked Ham-Boy worriedly.
“We’ve gotta get out of here!” he cried. He struggled to free himself from Harlagaz’s grip.
“The great Hacker 9 is afraid of something here in fairy tale land?” scoffed Kerry. “I’m pretty sure that we can handle whatever is chasing you no sweat.”
“We will stand with thee in this battle,” Harlagaz assured him.
“So what’s after you?” asked Ham-Boy.
“Nazgul!”
“Does Sir Mumprhey always tell so many war stories?” Hallie asked Asil. The young clone checked the stock of brandy.
“He does now,” she confirmed.
Over on the other side of the room, Trickshot and De Brown Streak were in a competition to see who could drink the most rum and eggnog. Al B. Harper had done the math to compensate for DBS’ advanced metabolism, meaning DBS was drinking a case to Trickshot’s glass. Space Ghost had tried to join in but Visionary had forbid it. Instead the pantsless hero went off to find himself a new broom closet.
“Have you seen Glory, Dancer?” Mr. Epitome asked of the Probability Dancer.
“Not recently, no. She’s probably off somewhere with the Juniors,” she reasoned.
“That’s what I’m worried about,” mused the Star Spangled Splendor.
She was having little luck, and the brush was proving to be very thick, when a gout of flame singed her tail. Whirling about, she found herself facing a rather large dragon.
“I don’t suppose I’d be fortunate enough for you to be Fin Fang Foom, would I,” she checked.
The gnash of teeth and the lunge forward seemed to indicate that he was not Fin Fang Foom. It did indicate, however, that he was hungry.
To be continued?
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