Tales of the Parodyverse

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JJJ tips his hat to Dancer's portrayal of Citizen Z
Tue Oct 17, 2006 at 04:26:36 pm EDT
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A Dancer Parodiopolis Theater tie-in
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J. Jonah Jerkson ties in with Dancer’s story arc

[And he’s even writing it in Dancer’s script style]

Scene: J. Jonah Jerkson’s office high in the Daily Trombone building. The newspaper magnate is standing behind his desk, perusing a stack of blueprints laid out on top of his cluttered desk. His flunky, Norbert Krumm, is standing to the side holding a notepad and pencil, practically trembling in the presence of his choleric boss.

J. Jonah Jerkson, VOICE OF THE PEOPLE: Look at these plans, Norbert. The world’s biggest Slopp Burger restaurant, right in the middle of the Entertainment District at Fifth and Park. The new Slopp-Burger World Headquarters. A triumph for Jerkson Enterprises. See the purple lettering around the second floor? “Home of the Big Slopp and the Boysenberry Slopp-Shake.” Genius. A pity I’m too modest to claim credit for it. And only one week until we break ground. I’ll frontpage the groundbreaking.

Norbert: Er, um, sir . . . have you spoken with Mr. Sneek, your lawyer?

JJJ, VOP: He told me you had something to inform me about.

N [trembling so much the leaves of his note pad are shaking like palm fronds in a hurricane]: Er, well, sir, ah . . . you recall the building we were going to demolish . . . tomorrow?

JJJ, etc.:The old Parodiopolis Variety Theater. A firetrap. A vermin refuge. A homeless hobo haven. A place too good for Goldeneyed. Take this down, Norbert. “An Editorial, ‘A Sunbeam of Hope in this Parody War - Darkened World.’ Jerkson Enterprises begins the revitalization of Parodiopolis today with the spectacular, multiple-detonation, controlled demolition of that excrescence on our Fair City’s visage, the rat-infested, disease-harboring, curse-bearing Parodiopolis Variety Theater.” Hmm, what next?

N: Er, sir? [The notepad flies from his hands and lands near the doorway.] Oops. Well, what I mean [gathers courage and comes as close to a yell as this pitiful wretch can manage] You Don't Own the Building!

JJJ [eyes flaming, neck hairs bristling, and leaning forward over the desk with a predatory mien]: WHAT DO YOU MEAN I DON’T OWN THE BUILDING? Two point five million simoleons of the Mammon Fiduciary Guaranty Trust Bank's money says I OWN THAT BUILDING!

N: [Gulps.] It’s that Waltz woman. She somehow got into the Registry of Abandoned Property, and somehow a deed got found there, and, er, well, there’s just the tiniest cloud on your ownership.

JJJ: HOW TINY, Norbert?

N: Well, I wouldn’t know anything about law or anything; I’m just a clerk, really, Mr. Jameson, I’m just the messenger, after all, I mean.

JJJ: You tell me NOW or you’ll really find out what shooting the messenger means.

N: Here’s a 22 page memorandum of law from Mr. Sneek. It’s very well researched, really.

JJJ: FIVE, FOUR, THREE . . .

N: There’s . . . [very, very quickly] You don’t own it at all. Some waitress named Sarah Shephardson is now the owner of record. She paid $20.50 for it and paid the taxes on that amount. Don’t hit me!

JJJ [on it in one]: That Waltz witch you say? THAT MEDDLING, INTERFERING, ARROGANT, CONNIVING, SCUM-SUCKING, &%*^(*6$, UNETHICAL, FORNICATING _()&)^%*(%^ SLUT! I’LL SHOW HER TO MESS WITH J. JONAH JERKSON!

N: Please, Mr. Jerkson, calm down, you’ll get an aneurysm.

JJJ: [opening desk drawer and removing ominous little black box with one big red button on the side] Aneurysm! Bah! I just spent $995,000 to rig it with enough carefully placed nitroglycerin to turn it into imploded rubble in 12 seconds! And here’s the detonator! [In a soft, amazed voice] Detonator? Detonator! [Pushes button dramatically.] Aaah, what a feeling.

N: AAAGH! NO! THE PEOPLE! HOW CAN YOU DO THAT! [Races to window to see explosion cloud]. Where’s the boom? You pushed the button to go boom.

JJJ: [Opens another desk drawer, retrieves two capsules from a pill bottle and washes them down with a slug of bourbon] Don’t get hysterical, Norbert. There’s a fail-safe on this stupid thing. Can’t work until Friday afternoon.

N: Mr. Jerkson, sir, should we be concerned about these mood swings you seem to be having?

JJJ: Mood swings? How did your pea brain come up with mood swings? It's just a little rage displacement. Keeps me from another one of my massive strokes.

N: Oh, I’m so glad, sir. Does that mean you won’t be throwing books at me now?

JJJ: Just wait a minute, I’ll catch up with that. Clara? Clara!! Get that shyster Sneek on the phone. Tell him he’s f***ed up again and I want that building back by Friday evening. The spectacular Jerkson controlled implosion is going ahead on schedule. It’s got to get into the weekend edition.

N: Do you think Mr. Sneek can undo what Ms. Waltz did?

JJJ: Imbecile! [throws book at Norbert, catching him in the shoulder. Norbert moans in pain] He’d better, or I’m going to run him out of town. Those pictures with Congressman Cornbury have been waiting a long time. Long time. [JJJ’s grin is eerily reminiscent of Lisa Waltz’s]

N: Owwwww.

J. JONAH JERKSON
Voice of the People


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