Tales of the Parodyverse

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Dancer likes to keep up with fashion, and the fashion is to do SR1066 tie-ins, so...
Thu Feb 09, 2006 at 08:32:17 am EST
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Dancer's Official UT SR1066-type Tie In: "Is there actually no known way of shutting you up?"
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[The Scene: Special Agent Herbert P. Garrick’s top-secret uber-governmental HQ office, deep in the bowels of the hidden alternate Pentagon or somewhere]

Dancer: Hi!

Garrick: Aaagh! Where did you come from? How did you get in here? How did you even find here?

Dancer: Well, it mainly involved probabilities. But I guess you could figure that out, given a moment’s pause, and maybe a look at my ID tag.

Garrick: You have an ID tag? You came through reception?

Dancer: Well of course I did. Brad and Shaun let me in.

Garrick: Who? And what happened to agents Bremner and Kanter?

Dancer: Brad and Shaun, yes. Well, Brad decided to take some compassionate leave to go visit his old mum in her retirement home in Oregon. It’s weeks since he called her, and really we all have a kind of duty to our mothers no matter how irritating they are always going on about how you haven’t found a decent man yet and how your biological clock is counting down to your ovaries exploding or something…

Garrick: …….

Dancer: Sorry. Bit of a parental flashback there. And Shaun went to tell somebody that he loves them. We should always be honest about love, don’t you think, Agent Garrick. Although I’m not sure if Major Hudsucker will feel the same way about Shaun, of course.

Garrick: This is a top secret base. You can’t just walk in here…

Dancer: Of course not. I had to chat to Brad and Shaun first. And Martin and Jerry and Carlo and Donald and Buzz and Tim and Gareth and Beryl. Well, he prefers to be called Beryl. At least off duty.

Garrick: You can’t just walk in here and send my security detail off to visit their mothers!

Dancer: Well clearly I can, because I have. It’s not as if you don’t understand, Herb. Can I call you Herb? I mean you happen to take very good care of your mother, so I hear.

Garrick: Can we leave my mother out of this?

Dancer: I’m not actually sure we can, Herb. I mean I know it’s a bit difficult to say what she’d want given how poorly she is now with the Alzheimer’s. I can only imagine how hard it must be for you to spend every Sunday with her. But really, Herb, I think she would have been very proud how well her only son did getting to be a Presidential Advisor and everything, don’t you? By the way, that secret alarm button you're pushing is malfunctioning, so nobody’s going to launch the Sentinoids to your rescue.

Garrick: So you’re here to intimidate me, is that it? To drop me down an elevator shaft?

Dancer, scornfully: Do I look like Messenger? Oh crap, do I smell like Messenger? I showered after the gym but I had to jump a few security fences to get here…

Garrick: I mean that you’re not going to be able to work that probability voodoo on me, Dancer. I’ve seen your file.

Dancer: Really? What did it say about my acting ability? I mean, how were the reviews? You can be honest, Herb. I can take it.

Garrick: Breaking in here is a treasonable offence, you know. I could have you shot. Well, if I had any soldiers left I could.

Dancer: My point is… well, it was several conversations ago… that I don’t understand why somebody who is so kind to their old mum would be so nasty in other ways. And wouldn’t your old mum be a bit sad if she understood some of the sleazy things you’re doing now with all this Special Resolution 1066 stuff and that?

Garrick: We are not discussing my mother. My mother is not on the table.

Dancer: No, she’s in Twilight Pastures. Nice people there. Louise and Cathy are specially good. I’m on the table. Well, at least the edge of it, since you haven’t offered me a chair yet. And I’m here for a dramatically important plot point, Herb.

Garrick: I’m sure I had a pistol somewhere in this filing cabinet…

Dancer: And the point is this. I’m pretty sure we’ll see all this 1066 nonsense coming to a big head sometime soon. And before it gets too horrid and people have to decide whether they’re going to be goodies or baddies forever I thought you should get given a choice.

Garrick: A choice? I chose long ago to serve my country.

Dancer: Like Brad and Shaun. And that doesn’t make you a bad person, it makes you a potential hero. But you’ve also made some bad choices, Herb, like persecuting all mutates just because some of them might be threats. And I think you might have fallen in with a bad crowd just now.

Garrick: Is there actually no known way of shutting you up?

Dancer: Buying me shoes sometimes works. Briefly. Or dancing with me. There’s a nice club in downtown Washington where they know me on the door if you want to try it.

Garrick: What kind of shoes?

Dancer: The point is, Herb, just for once wouldn’t you like to be on the winning side? Wouldn’t you like to do the right thing, not the expedient thing? Wouldn’t you like to be that man who once volunteered to serve his country, a country he could be proud of? Wouldn’t you like to be the son your mother would be proud of again? C’mon Herb, just for once team up with the Lair Legion and let’s go snooker the baddies, eh?

Garrick: You know, that lift shaft’s starting to look pretty inviting.

Dancer: Well think about it, okay? I know after all you’ve said and done it’s going to be hard. And the history. What with the Lisa cupboard thing, and the Trickshot pants-dissolving arrow. And the Vizh elephant dung debacle. And the CSFB galactic pantsing. And the DBS body dye incident. And the time Mumphrey took that muffin and… Well, you know all that stuff. But sometimes you just have to get over yourself and get past the, um, the past and stand up and be counted. I’m just hoping that maybe this one time you’ll decide that’s what you have to do.

Garrick: Is this it? Have you finished now? Because I have paperwork to do before I issue an arrest warrant for your trespassing on a top security base like this.

Dancer: There’s no proof I was ever here. Total security camera failure. Massive cascade of coincidences. Reports lost in internal post. Random outbreak of ergot in the staff canteen. You’ll never take me alive.

Garrick: Don’t underestimate my resources, Dancer. You have no idea of the powers available to my office…

Dancer, suddenly serious: Don’t underestimate my resources either, Herb. You have no idea of the powers available to my office as well, and that’s the office of Herald of Galactivac, the Living Death that Sucks. You don’t want to see what I could do to your government or your Special Resolution or your secret conspiracy if I really unshipped my powers. Really. I’m talking End Times stuff. Fallwellian things. Get a new country time.

Garrick: You think we haven’t prepared…

Dancer: I think you’ve prepared to stop silly little Dancer who never misuses her gifts even to get herself a gig or two. I think you can’t be prepared for somebody who’s top of the range power is to summon Galactivac to eat the planet. But relax. I could take over the world and stuff, but I won’t because that would be wrong. Free will and that. You could take over the world and stuff with the power available to you, but I’m hoping you won’t either. Because that would be wrong too.

Garrick: Well, you’ve given your warning.

Dancer: I’m not here to give you a warning, Herb. I’m here to give you a chance. Anyhow, I must be off because I’m meeting Buzz later for drinks and dinner. He seems like a really nice guy. Confidentially, I think he might be “the one”. Take care, Herb. See you.

Garrick: You can’t just walk out of here. This is a… well, I guess you can. *sigh*

[So Garrick sits in his office and stares at the wall for a while. Then he calls Twilight Pastures for an update on his mom. Then he stares at the wall some more.

Then he cries.]




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