Tales of the Parodyverse

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Subject: A "Saving the Future" snippet.





"I hate you."

Visionary sighed. "Really? Because you hide it so well."

"This is all your fault..." the Presidential Adviser on Superhuman Affairs complained, pacing back and forth along the edges of the slime coated dungeon walls. "...It's just an old castle. Just knock and see if anyone's home... What's the worst that could happen?" he mocked.

"I do not sound like that" the Legionnaire answered. "Besides, I didn't have to pull you out of that giant Venus Flytrap I found you in, you know..." He looked up into the darkness towards the trap door they had fallen through far above. "And I'm beginning to think that I definitely should have left you to be devoured by those man-eating subterrainian chicken-fish" he added in a grumble.

Herbert P. Garrick, a.k.a "Bad News Herb", continued his agitated pacing. "As if I needed the help of a bumbling half-wit!" he retorted with a scowl. "What did you do, romance the head chicken-fish? Add it to your tally of increasingly bizarre sexual partners?"

The Legionnaire's eyes narrowed. "You really don't want to go there" he noted, hunched over the wooden bunk hanging from a pair of rusty chains. "I'm well within that 50 yard limit the restraining order set on me after I last tried to smother you in a pile of elephant dung."

Herb opened his mouth to respond, but then apparently thought better of it. "Fine. We can snipe at each other later. Right now, we need to find a way to get out of here. Let's pool our resources... What do you have in the pockets of that ridiculous coat?"

The Legionnaire bit back any retort and stood up to search. "A movie ticket stub, a straw wrapper, eighteen cents in change and..." He jerked his hand back suddenly, then carefully peeled open the top of the coat pocket to look inside. "And a lab mouse." He held out his palm and the white mouse climbed up into it. "Apparently my daughter was keeping tabs on me..."

Garrick recoiled in disgust. "Gah... first fleas, and now rats? What, are you working your way up the vermin chain?"

"They're not vermin" Visionary argued, petting the mouse's head with one finger. "Mice helped protect and raise my daughter, after all."

"I'll be sure to pass that on to child welfare, right after I tell them about a crow being their school marm."

"A raven" the Regular insisted. "And she made an excellent governess, before she had to go patch up the cosmic side of things behind the scenes. Besides, what does a person being a bird have to do with their worth?"

"What does...?! We're talking different species!" Garrick snapped. "Birds can't be people... They can be birds!... If it were up to you, everything found in the barnyard would deserve equal treatment as humans!"

Visionary paused. "Well, I have been trying to contact Dr. Moo about a talking pig I think I once knew, but she hasn't been returning any of my calls."

The government employee stood with his hands clenched and his eye twitching. "What percentage of people who meet you can't stand you?"

"It's not as high as you might think" Visionary replied defensively. He didn't openly speculate on what his cellmate might score on such a test. "What the hell is your problem, anyway? Why do you get so wrung out of shape over this kind of thing?"

"Because the world needs to make sense!" Garrick yelled, face to face with the Legionnaire. "How is any decent, honest man supposed to stay safe and make a life in a world where people fly, or walk through walls, or toasters get their feelings hurt, or animals demand a wage increase to avoid a strike?! Generations upon generations of normal people broke their backs to create the greatest country on Earth for their children, and then out of nowhere freaks and perverts start raining down to cause unholy hell and steal it all away from them before they can even figure out how to compete!"

"My friends aren't freaks and perverts!" Visionary insisted hotly, before pausing and tilting his head to one side. "Wait... did you hear something?" he asked, just before a misshapen mass in a filthy suit rained out of the dark recesses above to land on top of the two cellmates with an unflattering *thwump*.

"Heya boss..." Flapjack leered to the more conscious man beneath him. "Fancy meeting you here."





Post By
Visionary presents this scene which really doesn't help advance anything, but will hopefully do more later.

Fri May 23, 2008 at
12:43:34 am EDT
Posted from U.S. Network
using Mozilla Firefox/Windows XP

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