Tales of the Parodyverse

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Sun Apr 22, 2007 at 07:03:16 pm EDT
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Dancer #43: “Who knew that Shoggoth goo mixed with Living Flatulence is caustic enough to dissolve clothing? But at least the audience applauded.” - the big finale
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Dancer #43: “Who knew that Shoggoth goo mixed with Living Flatulence is caustic enough to dissolve clothing? But at least the audience applauded.” - the big finale


[The Scene: PTV’s top rated Dateline: Paradopolis show, with Barty McGleeson and Kirsty Fennerman. And heere’s Barty!]

Barty: …And on a packed show tonight, we have Lania on the couch talking about her latest Secret Hospital plotline and the triplets she’s having with Bob, Guido, and Trudy. Plus we’ll be chatting with Jack Lawson of the Marvellous Marv fan club, hearing about the latest fad for kinky Caphan parties, and interviewing a man who claims he met a gargoyle and a gnome in Off-Central Park. Music’s from Flint Michigan and the Undead Abba Clones.

Kirsty: But first we’re going to hear from some of the people who were around at tonight’s extraordinary event at the old Parodiopolis Variety Theatre, the charity vaudeville show that everyone’s talking about. Here’s a few views about what went down…

[Roll VT]

Trudy Wooster: Well, I thought there were going to be celebs there, like maybe Jet Starscream or somebody. And what did we get? ManMan. ManMan and a huge amount of flying snot and stuff when that big gassy supervillain crashed the place and exploded.

Jenny Wooster: You know, I could so endorse stuff. I could model.

Big Thick Eddie: It was a good show. I mean that bit where the Donar puppet in drag and the Epitome puppet got into a fight was classic. And then when that guy with the fern on his head came out of the audience to try and separate them and got tangled in the scenery…

Baron Otto von Zemo: Get out of my way, worms. I have no idea why the box I was in collapsed into the cellars as I was heckling. Now I have to go pick these pieces of sewer alligator out of me.

Bernice Teshmaker: Well, it was an outmoded misogynistic patriarchal entertainment form that reinforced outmoded cultural stereotypes, even before the mass supervillain attack thing. But yes, I enjoyed it.

Mr Papadapopolis: My Sarah, is waitress at Bean and Donut Coffee Bar, good prices and good pastries and also nice souvlaka, she is a good girl to do this for charity. Is not her fault that ancient undead monster from secret island under theatre used his cursed typewriter to interfere. Did I mention that Sarah works at Bean and Donut, on Parodiopolis Plaza?

Caveguy: Hooga.

Meggan Foxx: Burlesque is an old artform, honey. People are supposed to get gunge in the face and then have their clothes fall off. As far as I’m concerned Shep got it exactly right.

Agnes Wooster: Well, I came because I like to support a range of charity and social functions and restoring the old theatre has long been a goal of right-thinking members of Parodiopolis society. But I didn’t understand what the two individuals with the accordion and the hamster were doing on stage. They weren’t even on the programme, and that Elvis man had to wrestle them down before they’d stop making that noise.

Reverend Mac Fleetwood: I don’t know that all of us were quite ready for the intense levels of audience participation. I can’t remember the last time we had to spend the interval quashing demons from the nether realms and flying monkeys. But on the whole I’d give the show two thumbs up.

Police Commissioner Don Graham: Get that camera out of my face. We’re trying to make arrests here.

[And back to the studio:]

Barty: Well, it sounds like it was quite the night down at the Save the Theatre gala. And to help us understand what went on we have with us in the studio the organiser of the event, waitress Sarah Shepherdson…

Shep: Actually Barty, that’s actress and dancer Sarah Shepherdson, available for audition. * flashes smile at the camera *

Barty: Er, yes, and next to her is theatre auteur Solly Bentman, who is currently bailed on charges of…

Mr Sneek, of Sneek, Sneek, Grabbitt & Thuggery, Attorneys at Law: Any allegations against my client cannot be reported due to expensive legal reasons.

Solly Bentman: And because I’ll have your legs broken, you pissant punk.

Mr Sneek: Any apparent threats that my client might issue cannot be recorded nor taken as binding threats of grievous bodily harm.

Barty, a bit worried: Er, okay, and finally…

Kirsty: Finally, we have Presidential Advisor on Metahuman Affairs, Special Agent Herbert P. Garrick.

Bad News Herb: Good evening. This is a sad day for right-thinking people everywhere.

Sarah: * puts her tongue out at Garrick *

Barty: So, Sarah, let’s start at the beginning. Why did you decide to hold a gala charity event at the old abandoned Parodiopolis Variety Theatre?

Shep: Well Barty, without going into massive flashbacks, it was basically to push Solly here over the edge and prove he was behind the recent wave of theatre accidents wherever anyone stood in the way of him becoming East Coast entertainment czar.

Mr Sneek: My client resents such biased and libellous allegations and is issuing gag orders on Ms Shepherdson and seeking redress for such outrageous libel.

Sarah: Yeah? Well it so happens I came tooled up with legal council too. Sic him, Lisa.

Mr Sneek: Er… Lisa? Lisa Waltz?

Lisa: * kicks Sneek in the briefs, wrestles him to the ground, then drags him out of the studio in a painful armlock *

Sarah: Okay, I was expecting a legal argument, but…

Solly Bentman: She can’t do that to my attorney! Why, I’ll…

Sarah: What, hire another supervillain to try and blow up a theatre full of charity performance attendees? Gromm the Living Flatulence has so spilled the beans on you, buddy. That plus the stuff the Lair Legion picked up from their search of your offices when they suspected there might be an Avawarrior invasion in there and had to break in to check it out means you’re going to do hard time, you talent-ignoring megalomaniac.

Kirsty, trying to be bright: Er, so… There was a bit of a disturbance at the performance tonight, right? Could someone explain…?

Shep: Well, I was trying to be modest, but I had worked hard on that Bolero piece for a long time, and I was really pleased how well the audience…

Garrick, snapping: She means the supervillain attacks, the explosions, and the demonic invasion.

Shep: Oh, that. Well, every first night has its little glitches.

Garrick: Glitches? The walls of the theatre were lined with explosives to bring the whole place down.

Shep: But that turned out to be a lucky break, didn’t it? I mean, if it hadn’t been for the explosives improbably detonating when those hell-demons were phasing in through the walls we’d all have been dragged off to eternal reruns of Joanie Loves Chachi. As it was the explosions were phased with the demons, blowing them up without harming the fabric of the theatre. The audience thought it was a great visual effect at the end of CSFB!s wire show.

Solly Bentman: Hey, I adored Joanie Loves Chachi.

Shep: That explains so much.

Barty: But demons? Where did the come into the event?

Shep: Well, technically they came in quite late on. First there was Gromm, the Living Flatulence, attacking during the knife-juggling act. Fortunately the knife spotted him and warned everybody. Then this, um, this Shoggoth who happened to be in audience enveloped Gromm as he exploded and there was a bit of… sprayage. Caustic sprayage.

Kirsty: And that was why…

Shep: Who knew that Shoggoth goo mixed with Living Flatulence is caustic enough to dissolve clothing? But at least the audience applauded.

Barty: And then the demons attacked?

Shep: Mmmno. Next was, I think it was the ninjas, wasn’t it Herb? Or was that after the sewer-dwelling Outcasts?

Solly Bentman: I never hired no sewer-dwelling Outcasts. I’m not paying for Outcasts.

Shep: No, I think they spontaneous decided to raid the place to rob the audience of their jewels and cash. They hadn’t seen my audience. Fortunately they grabbed the nearest audience member, Sir Mumphrey Wilton, and then the Detonator Hippos got a bit proactive.

Garrick: And people wonder why we wanted to regulate metahumans.

Shep: So we could include them properly on the souvenir brochure? Anyhow, it turns out that Solly wasn’t the only villain of the piece. There was also that Ghost Writer fellow who’d sold his soul for a magic typewriter. Maybe two if you take the whole Shoggoth tie-in story into account. But in any case, he’d lurked in the cellars of the Theatre for a hundred-odd years, bringing doom and disaster. And finally he decided that if the theatre and everyone in it was destroyed he’d be free to get his own mini-series.

Kirsty: So he conjured up the demons?

Shep: What a waste, eh? He could have typed in happy endings for the whole world, and instead he wastes it on Buffy the Vampire Slayer villains. Still, at least Donar was happy.

Barty: Hold it. We’re talking demons here. Demon demons. Not just villains in rubber masks?

Shep: The Society of Villains in Rubber Masks had already attacked at that point, I think. They tried to hold the animal acts to ransom, but they made the mistake of ignoring the purple thought bunny and grabbing the ginger cat. Dr Whitwell says they can do miracles with reconstructive facial surgery these days.

Garrick: The whole thing was a disgrace. That Ghost Writer kept writing disasters without any reference to government policy or having proper permissions.

Shep: Yep. He was somehow screwing things up without government assistance, Herb. Luckily for us, his typewriter was kind of old and sticky – we don’t want to know why – and so he kept getting misprints that remarkably saved us from his disaster. For example, when the Lair Legion suddenly arrived to save the day Visionary got attacked by a swarm of Killer Beds. And they all got tangled in the doorway and stopped the demon-hordes from getting into the auditorium until Reverend Fleetwood could get his holy water uncorked.

Solly Bentman, penny dropping: So that was why I was bundled into a police van with some Hello Angels and a Poisonous Black Mambo?

Shep: Well, that and the fact that you’re a nasty vicious underhand creep that needs locking away for a hundred years. Did you get punched yet in this storyline? I mean on screen, not back when I hit you before #35?

Kirsty: So there really was all that interruption to the show? Didn’t the audience panic?

Shep: Well, luckily the Probability Dancer was there, so by chance everyone thought it was part of the performance. We had Hallie doing the lighting and sound so she just cloaked the demons in clown outfits while Al B. Harper did a dimensional reverso-ray or something and Yo stole an extra bow for his/her bunny gymnastics.

Barty: But in the finale, when everyone was on stage…

Garrick: They should have stopped the performance when it became clear that there was unwarranted metahuman activity.

Shep: Hey, what part of “The Show Must Go On” is unclear? Don’t you know that there’s no business like show business? That was smile when we are low?

Solly Bentman: I can’t believe that my theatrical empire has been ruined by this woman.

Sarah: When everyone was on stage for the big final production, and we were just bickering about how to fit Vizh into the giant cannon, and Citizen Z was suggesting surgery, and Trickshot was lining up for a shot through the little open window in the rotunda, that was when the Ghost Writer made his final move.

Barty, checking his notes: This would be about the same time as Mr Bentman’s legal challenge to Ms Shepherdson’s theatre ownership came through and he gained legal title and financial responsibility for the venue, yes?

Solly Bentman: Yes * sobs *

Sarah: Well, the Ghost Writer appeared floating over the auditorium, sawing his way through the chandelier and stuff, and gloating that he’d typed that nobody could move. He did the usual explain-the-plot speech that filled us in on everything, made far more sense of the storyline than is every likely to come across in these expositions, and told us that we were all doomed.

Barty: And then?

Shep: Dancer hit him. Then Yuki hit him. Then Mr Epitome hit him. Then Donar…

Kirsty: Donar hit him, maybe?

Shep: Donar sat down on his typewriter.

Barty: But you couldn’t move. He typed it.

Shep: That was what he’d wanted to type. Improbably, what held actually typed was that nobody could mole. So we didn’t. He was defeated without anybody moling at all. It was a mole-free victory.

Solly Bentman: But that doesn’t explain the roof. My roof, as it happened. I’d owned the theatre for one minute when…

Garrick: That was when Donar hit the Ghost Writer. Through the roof.

Shep: Who knew that the woodworm was that extensive? Or that Solly hadn’t had time to insure the property? Or that Lisa got a sliver in her finger and is suing him for ninety million dollars compensation?

Solly: I don’t have ninety…

Shep, brightly: Anyway, Parodiopolis might welcome another open-air theatrical venue. And the show did bring the house down.

Solly, who has had one bright comment too many from Sarah: That’s it! I don’t care if they electrocute me afterwards! You die, right here, right now! * lunges for her in front of the TV cameras *

Shep: * punches him * THWAKKKKK!

Shep: There. Now we can end the storyline.

[And in the end: Mr Bentman goes off to make friends with Bruno and Lotto in the Big House – The Parodiopolis Variety Theatre becomes a fixer-upper again – JJJ gets a granola diet that doesn’t help his bowel movements much and makes him grumpier and grouchier – the LL recover from their thespian experiences after intense therapy – Gromm the Living Flatulence goes off to a classier gig in Untold Tales - Ghost Writer has to explain to a lot of angry demons about why their day trip turned out to be so sucky – all proceeds of the night go to charity and Joe the Hobo gets a nice steak sandwich – and Shep needs to prepare for another audition, so that one day she can fulfil her destiny as a star of stage and screen and an idol of millions.]

Hatman: And I can get out of this maple leaf costume now, right? Hello? Anyone?

THE END

So did I miss anything out?




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