Tales of the Parodyverse

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Dancer's brief placeholder story while she thinks up something good
Sun Nov 05, 2006 at 08:27:36 am EST
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Dancer #41: “Still, that will be a pretty revengy revenge in my opinion.”
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Dancer #41: “Still, that will be a pretty revengy revenge in my opinion.”


[The scene: The super-secret underground island lair of the Ghost Writer, the wicked insane reality-changing typewritered phantom of the Parodiopolis Variety Theatre, who is trying to thwart attempts by super-talented Sarah Shepherdson to revive the old place and put on a show this Friday. All clear?]

Ghost Writer: Well bugger.

Ghost Writer: So, let me recap aloud in exposition format, so as to clear my thoughts and not for any other narratively necessary reason.

Ghost Writer, shaking his fist in the air: For over a century I have been trapped here, cursed by my evil pact with Heck to write forever. And all I wanted was a rhyme for orange.

Ghost Writer, thrusting forth a hand in approved Hamlet fashion: When this miserable building is finally destroyed, then perhaps I can be free. Or at least get to haunt somewhere better. Possibly a high school girls locker room.

Ghost Writer, wringing his hands: But suddenly this… this waitress comes along and has to ‘restore’ everything. Her and her endless supply of helpful guest stars. Clearing out the death traps with their comedy archscientist. Those Hell’s Bathroom bums she brought in to clean up actually stole my best lethal gadgets to pawn for meths.

Ghost Writer, arching his hands in infringement of the Hooded Hood’s gesture copyright: But she will not get away with this, despite being somehow associated with the Probability Dancer in a way that cannot be considered too carefully for reasons of continuity. Oh no. She will pay. They will all pay. I mean apart from it being a high-ticket priced benefit concert that all the great and good of Parodiopolis will be attending.

Ghost Writer, cracking his knuckles: Who in their right minds pays good money to watch seven ventriloquists acts and five variants of people showing sharp objects at a fake man anyhow? Plus one ostrich-juggler? *checks programme* One humane ostrich juggler. No, it’s a kindness to put this audience out of their misery.

Ghost Writer, checking his chandelier-unscrewing gadget: Just when this Sarah Shepherdson thinks it is her moment of triumph, I will bring the house down. And not in a super-colossal mega-hit kind of way. Oh no. In a M.A.S.H. the Musical kind of way.

Ghost Writer, reconsidering: Although Hot Lips’ O.R. aria was quite catchy.

Ghost Writer, pulling himself back to the point with a visible effort: So… as soon as we reach the grand finale, with everyone on stage and the sheep-like audience clapping and throwing bouquets… just as this Sarah Shepherdson and her Probability Dancer pal appear on stage to take their bows… just as it looks like the humiliation and character-misuse is over…

Ghost Writer, allowing himself a cackle: In fact… that will be the time my horrible revenge will take place. And it will be particularly horrible. Horrible so that people are… horrified. By the horror.

Ghost Writer, flexing his typing fingers: Oh yes. First I shall script… yes, mean-spirited newspaper published J. Jonah Jerkson arranging for detonator charges to go off during the performance then having a stroke so he cannot stop it when he learns that there will be a theatre full of people. People who might otherwise buy his newspaper, and whose deaths might cost him circulation.

Ghost Writer, rubbing his palms together as he gets excited: Ooh, and then I’ll write how would-be theatrical kingpin Solly Bentman hires a super-villain to wreck the event so that he can be unchallenged in his ambition of auditioning every young ingénue who knows how to unzip a tight-fitting lycra one-piece. The world shall smell the vengeance of… Gromm, the Living Flatulence!

Ghost Writer, hopping on one leg: Why the hell am I hopping on one leg. This is getting silly.

Ghost Writer, back to the plotting: Okay, and then as my piece de resistance, my grand finale, I’ll open the old hellgate under the stage and unleash the snarling screaming hordes of Heck to drag the whole audience down to eternal Joanie Loves Chachi reruns! You know I really should have timed this so it was a Halloween climax.

Ghost Writer, checking back on the Parodyverse Board: Oh, hold on. CrazySugarFreakBoy! has booked Hallowe’en for his climax this year. So to speak.

Ghost Writer: Still, that will be a pretty revengy revenge in my opinion. *turns to hidden audience* What do you think?

Baron Otto von Zemo: Meh. Could use a little spice in the third act, but as a fill-in chapter till inspiration strikes it’ll do.

[Continued when inspiration strikes – honest!]



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