Tales of the Parodyverse

Post By

Dancer
Wed Oct 11, 2006 at 05:28:55 am EDT
Subject
Dancer #38: “I’m still trying to get the stains off my office wall from that Gold Coin Killer thing.”
[New] [Email] [Print] [RSS] [Tales of the Parodyverse]
 		Next In Thread >>

Dancer #38: “I’m still trying to get the stains off my office wall from that Gold Coin Killer thing.”


[The Scene: Mimble’s Department Store, where mild-manner shopper Sarah Shepherdson is having a most unusual day]

M-M S S S: I am having a most unusual day.

Police Commissioner Don Graham: We all are, Shep. It’s not every day that Mimble’s is almost destroyed by a freak hail of ducks.

Sarah: Surely the ducks aren’t that unusual? I mean flying at high altitudes, thermal inversions, El Ninio, global warming… They probably froze to death poor things and just, um, plummeted in formation through the plate glass windows in time to stone to death the freak reptile attack.

Don Graham: That’s what my forensic experts are telling me. They haven’t yet come up with an explanation of who plucked and shrink-wrapped the ducks on their way down.

Sarah: Could be that El Ninio guy? He gets a lot of press coverage these days.

Don Graham: Anyhow, even if we could account for the anomalous ducks it doesn’t explain how three thousand poisonous serpents suddenly appeared in the middle of Gimble’s Christmas sale.

Sarah: Or how these stores can get away with starting their Christmas sales in July. It’s just cruel to make those fat men wear those heavy Santa costumes in that kind of heat. Although I guess they could always hug a frozen duck now.

Don Graham: All the eyewitness accounts suggested that they just appeared from nowhere. Like teleportation. I hope this isn’t another metahuman case. I’m still trying to get the stains off my office wall from that Gold Coin Killer thing.

Sarah: How did that turn out in the end anyhow?

Graham: Don’t ask. But Shep, you were apparently browsing near the window displays in voracious shoe addict mode. What did you see?

Sarah: There was a lovely pair of slingback faux-Gucci evening pumps with this hand cross-stitching that you could hardly tell was done by machine.

Graham: And about the snakes? Or the ducks?

Sarah: Pretty much what everyone else did. Except… I did hear a strange clicking. Like an old fashioned typewriter? Then the snakes. Then that very fortunate duckfall that could have happened to anybody.

Sarah: *frowns* But the snakes… I can’t explain the snakes. Or the runaway tram that nearly killed me this morning. Or the exploding microwave. Or the missing underwear.

Sarah, being honest: Okay, perhaps I know where my thing went.

Sarah: Commissioner? You’re looking very depressed?

Sarah: But I don’t understand about the typewriter.

Ghost Writer, behind the scenes: Curses! Foiled by a freak duck fall! Of all the luck. And after my runaway tram unexpectedly crashed into a hijacked milk van and my exploding microwave inadvertently blew through the wall and stopped those bank robbers from escaping with their loot. But I’ll get the new owner of the Variety Theatre somehow, you wait and see. Hmm. How about…

Miss Shepherdson is walking home when she is attacked by a vicious gang of Hell’s Bathroom skinheads

Sarah: Hello Slasher. Hello Spikey. Hello Septic. How’s your mum these days? Bad back any better?

Miss Shepherdson enters her workplace only to find it has been invaded by supervillains.

Jean-Pierre: Zut Alors! What am I doing? It ees ze suicide to try to rob ze Bean and Donut! Excuse me, attractive waitress girl. I have to flee into la rue before one of ze many superheroes who are known to constantly be here eating crullers when ze villains attack appears and beats me to ze pulp!

Overbite: What he said. Only not in bad pretend-French.

Sarah: Okay. Would you villains like mocha latés to go?

Suddenly Miss Shepherdson discovers she has a rare tropical disease that gives her two weeks to live.

Sarah: Mr Papadapopolis, I think the mousaka’s gone off. When I just took a bite of it it was all covered in some weird mould. But don’t worry, because I was feeling a bit queasy before that and I’m much better now.

What? This makes no sense at all. And I’m talking relative to your average Parodyverse story!

Mr P: Is to be may strange things happening today, yes? Big parcel was to be coming in post for you. I think maybe it had clock in because was ticking. But parcel delivery man has left it outside in the rain and it got all wet so now I think clock is broken. Sorry Sarah.

Sarah: Mr P, do you keep hearing something like typing? As if there was an invisible typist writing the most bizarre and impossible things into the story in defiance of even the usual marginal levels of narrative realism?

Mr P: No. But I hear customer on table 4 wanting cheque.

Sarah: Oops. On it.

Customer on table 4 suddenly snaps, goes mad, and stabs Miss Shepherdson to death with his table knife.

Customer on table 4: No I don’t.

Er, what? You have to. I typed it.

Customer on table 4: Too bad, old chap. Been eating here every Tuesday since I moved to Parodiopolis and I’m not about to start stabbing the waitresses now. Bad form. Not done. Especially since Miss Shepherdson is so kind as to buy in English muffins specially for me.

Sarah: Sorry, Sir Mumphrey. Did you say something?

Customer at table 4: Just remonstrating with the ungodly, my dear. Can’t be doin’ with all this metatextual stuff. * leaves tip and heads off *

Sir Mumphrey Wilton? What are the chances of customer on table 4 being Sir Mumphrey Wilton? I mean come on! Something damned strange is happening here.

Sarah: You know, something darned strange is happening here.

Of course!. The little waitress is said to be pals with that Probability Dancer! I bet her probability-bending friend has put some kind of protection on her. Bah! Very clever. But the Ghost Writer is far from beaten. Oh no. Let me type…

Ghost Writer has another brilliant idea.

Ghost Writer: Aha! If Miss Shepherdson is protected – for now – what about those hapless fools she has persuaded to perform in her pathetic talent show? What if they all have terrible freak accidents? Terrible freak performance-related accidents! Bwa-hah-ha-ha!

Ghost Writer starts typing on his cursed typewriter…

Sarah, poking her ear: I could swear I heard typing again. Ah well, never mind. I suddenly feel as if all my problems have gone away to bother somebody else. At least until Dancer #39.

Sarah: Until then, its somebody else’s problem.

Sarah: *looks hopefully at the PVB*



(Thanx to IW for his help with this ep. Sometimes you wouldn’t think he was a scheming evil b&stard at all unless you knew better )




Posted from U.S. Network
using Microsoft Internet Explorer 6/Windows 2000
[New] [Email] [Print] [RSS] [Tales of the Parodyverse]
Follow-Ups:

Echo™ v3.0 beta © 2003-2006 Powermad Software
Copyright © 2004-2006 by Mangacool Adventure