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Dancer/spiffy April Fools Special #3: True Love Knows No Boundaries (or Federal State Line Child Kidnapping Laws) was made by Mostly Dancer on 4/5/2003 at 3:58:08 AM.
Dancer/spiffy April Fools Special #3: True Love Knows No Boundaries (or Federal State Line Child Kidnapping Laws)
Special thanks to HH for the plot input on this chapter :-)
[Previously, on Dancer/spiffy: spiff doesn’t realise that he has accidentally eloped with Dancer’s kid sister, Kerry. That’s spiffy for you, right? Oh well, so much for the big plot summary. On with the show.]
[The scene: Banjooooo and spiffy’s Detective Agency. Trickshot and ManMan are looking at the King of the Sea Monkeys as he does ballet manoeuvres in a tub of cold custard while reciting haikus.]
Trickshot: Er…
Banjooooo: Light falls the orange blossom…
ManMan: Maybe we came at a bad time? It’s clearly a… a personal moment.
Banjooooo: Autumn leaves in fading sun…. aw crap. You put me off. Now I’ll have to start over. * wades out of custard * This stuff isn’t cheap, you know.
Trickshot: Er…
Knifey: What the dynamic duo here are trying to say is why the hell are you doing ballet manoeuvres in a tub of cold custard while reciting haikus?
Banjooooo: Well, warm custard would be pretty unpleasant, wouldn’t it?
Trickshot: Er…
ManMan: Is this, like, a hobby?
Banjooooo, wiping off the custard with a beaverskin towel: Of course not. Like you said, it’s personal. Nobody complains about Lisa and her Koolwhip, right?
Trickshot: They moan weakly sometimes.
Knifey, chuckling: Oh dear. It’s that time, is it, Banjoooooo? The part of a Sea Monkey King’s life when it’s getting towards spawning?
ManMan: Please tell me that custard isn’t some weird kind of foreplay.
Banjooooo: Of course not. It’s a quest. That’s all. And now I’ve got to find some more custard to finish it. And a new haiku. And maybe a better dance sequence.
Knifey: Sea Monkey Kings have to fulfil these twelve quests before they can mate with a mortal woman and breed the next generation of l’il sea monkeys. It’s all in this huge backstory note that the Hooded Hood wrote a whiles back. Looks like old Banjooooo’s got the urge.
ManMan: And speaking of Dancers, you wouldn’t happen to have seen her little sister recently, would you? Kerry? Five nine, black hair, sort of a younger poutier version of Dancer?
Trickshot: Or perhaps your old friend and partner-in-detection spiffy, who was last seen with her? C’mon brine shrimp, don’t make us search the custard.
Banjoooooo: You shall not profane the sacred custard of the Sea Monkeys! And no, I haven’t seen spiff for a week or so. Not since he made some very rude remarks about my poetic metaphor contexts.
Trickshot: In that ballet kit I’m surprised you can still feel them.
ManMan: So basically you have no idea where spiffy might go off to if he, say, wanted to elope with a teenage runaway?
Banjoooooo: None whatsoever. Now if you’d leave me to my custard, some of us happen to have quests to… He WHAT????
[Meanwhile, up a tree in Savage Park, the Antarctic dinosaur place…]
Nats: Good dinosaur. Nice dinosaur. Nice dinosaur doesn’t want to eat Nats. Eat G-Eyed, he’s much tastier.
Goldeneyed: Oh, totally excellent team spirit, flyboy. Way to get us out of this mess.
Nats: Hey, I’m not the new deputy leader who’s supposed to read up on mission before we set out, and should have reminded me that our powers don’t work in Savage Park!
G-Eyed: Have you seen the size of those files and the state Troia left them in? So far I’ve only been able to read up to J, excluding E, H, and K, but including V and Tr. And in case you hadn’t noticed, Savage Park is brought to you to you today by the letters S and P.
Nats: Actually, no I hadn’t noticed, ON ACCOUNT OF CLINGING TO A FRICKIN’ TREETOP WITH A DROOLING DINOSAUR SIX FEET BELOW ME!!!!
Caveguy, Lord of the Savage Park, looking up: Hooga?
Nats: What’d he say?
G-Eyed: Well, according to the translator, it was something like “Hey, why are you at the top of that tree?”
Nats: Okay. Well, CG, basically we decided not to get a new career as dino-poo.
G-Eyed: Actually, Dancer sent us here looking for you, to ask if you’d seen spiffy or Dancer’s sister. But right now we’re more interested in not being swallowed by that big green reptile thing with all the teeth.
Caveguy: Hooga.
G-Eyed: Ah. It was pretty much a longshot. Thanks anyway.
Nats: But feel free to wrestle the dinosaur or whatever so we can get down sometime this century.
Caveguy: Hooga!
G-Eyed: We don’t have a rolled up newspaper to tap it gently on the nose.
[And at that exact moment in the Mount Olympus Kebab and Retsina Centre…]
Pegasus: …so then I said, “Hey, you may be a titan on the battlefield, but right now you’re looking like…
Ziles: I get the idea. Don’t worry about finishing the story. Please.
Elsqueevio, God of Small Waters and Acting Supreme All-Father of Olympus: No, wait, this is the really funny part, where the Yellow-Crested Titans fell in the oracle’s brazier…
Ziles: I think maybe you had to be there. And since it was thousands of years ago and you two were probably even more drunk then than you are now…
Pegasus: Drink! You’re right. Squeevy, we forgot to drink some more!
Elsqueevio: Here’s to drinking some more!
Pegasus: And to old times. And Yellow Crested… whatever they were. Things. With Yellow Crests on.
Ziles: Only we came to try and find spiffy, maybe use the Pool of All Plot Spoiling, stuff like that? Not to reminisce about old times and drink the gross national product of Argentina.
Pegasus: To Argentina!
Elsqueevio: To the Plot of All Pool Spoiling! Or whatever. Er, we should be able to get that thing fired up just as soon as we clear the vomit out of it.
Ziles: There’s no vomit in it… Oh. Now there is. Right.
Pegasus: Could be worse. There’s a reason he’s called the God of Small Waters.
[And back at the Lair Mansion, where Hatman and Sorceress are just reporting on their own investigation…]
Hatty: So we asked Farmer Bob about spiffy, and dull thud will be fine once they’ve picked the buckshot out of him.
Sorceress: Sorry, Dancer, but we didn’t find any leads on them. An amazing number of spiffy’s supporting cast are either missing or dead. Nearly the whole Abandoned Legion has vanished into some mysterious subplot, Bubba’s out of bounds. It’s like a conspiracy.
Hatman: On the bright side, the AL might be able to rent out their secret headquarters to one of the new groups like that Man Team or someone while they’re off being mysterious.
Dancer, turning as Finny comes into the room: Any word?
Finny: Dancer, did you use our FBI security links to ask for word on spiffy and Kerry?
Dancer: Yeah. Have they turned something up?
Finny: You could say that. They turned up that Kerry’s a minor, and spiffy’s taken her across a state boundary without parental consent.
Dancer: No, she’s not. She’s already sixteen.
Hatman: Er, in the US the age of consent is supposed to be eighteen.
Dancer: Eep, I keep forgetting. In Ireland it’s fourteen.
Sorceress: I think you mean sixteen.
Dancer: Ah. …………..
Finny: But the point is, spiffy’s just committed statutory kidnap. Special Agent Herbert P. Garrick’s just put out an all points bulletin for him on suspicion of kidnap and statutory rape. Word is that spiffy might have got your sister pregnant, Dancer.
Dancer: Mom’s going to kill me. No wait, I could try and die in battle. That’s it. Where’s the Yurt? Or the Parody Master?
Sorceress: Relax. It might not come to that. It could just be a misunderstanding. A passing fling.
Dancer: Not helping.
Hatman: It could just be another standard spiffy screw up.
Finny: Bad choice of words.
Sorceress: Point is, we find them and we might be able to deal with all of this quietly, and nobody ever knows.
Flapjack: Hey guys, come quick! You’ve gotta see this breaking news story on Channel Nine about the latest political scandal…
[And in a grim gritty alley in grim gritty Gothametropolis York…]
Dark Knight (looming): You sent word?
Messenger (looming): Yeah. Dancer asked for a favour. She wants everyone to look out for her little sister, who’s run off with spiffy.
Dark Knight (looming more): Is she blind or mentally ill?
Messenger (looming even more): Apparently not. Anyway, Dancer’s worried. She wondered if you’d do some detectoring.
Dark Knight (looming even more than that): And she’s got you playing errand boy, er, Messenger.
Messenger (looming to the max then falling over): Well, she’d damn persuasive. And she washed my trenchcoat once.
Dark Knight: ………. * goes back to looming *
Messenger: I hear the FBI have an all points out for spiffy cause the girl’s a minor. And the Campaign to Impeach Mayor spiffy are offering a major bounty. And now there’s CNN spiffywatch updates every fifteen minutes.
Dark Knight: Hmp. Well, I don’t have time to stand around here looming all day. Can’t find the kids just now. I’m still working on tracking that shipment of illegal alien combat weaponry left over from Dark Thugos’ Battleworld assault that was stolen last night. It’s gotta be still in the city cause all vehicles leaving have been searched, except for… official… government… limos…
Dark Knight: Aw crap.
[To be continued again, in #4: “It’s Either the Flames of Passion or Somebody Has Torched the Motel”]