Tales of the Parodyverse

Dancer/spiffy I Can’t Believe We’ve Got to #10 Special: We're pleased to announce that orders have been given to shoot spiffy on sight like the rabid dog he is.


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Dancer via HH
Fri Dec 05, 2003 at 07:09:49 pm EST

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Dancer/spiffy I Can’t Believe We’ve Got to #10 Special: We're pleased to announce that orders have been given to shoot spiffy on sight like the rabid dog he is.

[The Scene: Mark “spiffy” Hopkins and Kerry “pathological pyromaniac” Shepherdson are coasting along at an altitude of around nine inches from the ground in a “borrowed” B.A.L.D. hi-tech hover-weapons platform, bickering again. spiffy doesn’t know about the load of stolen alien combat ordinance in the locked steel trunk behind him that could take out half the planet and which most of the really serious supervillains on Earth are hunting for right now. He’s more worried because he’s AWOL as omni-mayor of nearly everywhere in America, that he’s accidentally eloped with an underage sex-kitten, but mainly because Kerry has never piloted a hi-tech hover-weapons platform before and they’ve just driven over a 7-11 stand.]

spiffy: Was the 7-11 stand looking at you a bit funny too, like the post box and the fire hydrant?

Kerry: Yeah. And that bus stop and the hot dog cart. Relax, can’t you?

spiffy: Relax isn’t a word I often associate with driving at 200 miles an hour in a stolen flying arsenal with a sixteen year old at the wheel who doesn’t even have a learners driving license.

Kerry: Hey, I may not have a license but you gotta admit I look good at the wheel with the wind in my hair, right?

spiffy: …

Kerry: You blush a lot for a guy, you know that?

spiffy: I get the feeling you haven’t told me everything about this field trip, Kerry. What’s in that mysterious trunk you’re delivering to Tombstone, Arizona? Who are we meeting? Why are most of the supervillains on the continent chasing us? Why are you aiming at that police cruiser???

Kerry: Oops. Sorry. There’s got to be a volume control on this thing somewhere.

spiffy: You mean an altitude control.

Kerry: Nah. Volume. Listen to the radio. We’re famous!

Radio Announcer: And in late-breaking news, the Committee to Unelect Mayor spiffy announced just now, “We're pleased to announce that orders have been given to shoot spiffy on sight like the rabid dog he is.”

Kerry: Mark? You’ll damage your fern if you bash your head on the console like that.

[Two hours by B.A.L.D. hover-weapons platform later…]

Kerry: That’s it. We’re here. The ruined frontier town outside modern Tombstone, where I needed to get to. Now I just have to wait.

spiffy, listening to the ping of cooling hover-weapons platform now the damage from the exchange of laser-fire on the way with agents of HERPES is over: Wait? Wait for what?

Kerry: For something to happen. [glances sideways at spiffy and leans back in her chair] Do you want something to happen, Mark?

spiffy: *blushes like a girl again*

Kerry: You’re a strange guy, Mark Hopkins, you know that? I can’t figure you. I mean, we’ve been on the road all this time and I know you want me, but you’ve been like, the perfect gentleman. And I know you wanna kill me as well, but you’re still so nice.

spiffy: Well, you’re only sixteen. Plus, you know, you’re out of my league.

Kerry: Yeah, that’s true. Still… [Leans over and gives Mark a scorching kiss that nearly sets the chair on fire] Thanks, lover.

spiffy: *swallows hard, remembers to breathe, checks his tongue is still attached* Wow. Kerry that was…

Kerry: *clobbers spiffy over the head with a laser-death cannon* Yeah, it was kinda. Sorry, Mark.

Roddy O’Brady, teenage international arms terrorist, climbing into the cockpit: Hey, cutie, so you finally got here!

Kerry, leaping into his arms: I sure did, baby. I brought the weapons just like you wanted. Now we make the sale to Balefire so he can conquer the planet and we live happily ever after, right?

Roddy: Right. *notices spiffy* Who’s that?

Kerry: Him? Oh, never mind him. He’s no-one.

[Next issue: Holy heartbreak, Batman! We ignore all this and go see how Vizh and Dancer are doing with Akiko Masamune and Killer Shrike, in a tale of deceit, sudden death, and fashion tips we could only call “Put down the octopus and step away from the sushi bar or we come in firing.”




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