Tales of the Parodyverse

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killer shrike
Tue Oct 12, 2004 at 10:25:45 pm EDT
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"Follies of Youth, Part Nine"
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Follies of Youth, Part Nine


When Muscle Heads Clash


“Sayeth it!” Harlagaz commanded to the boy he had in a headlock, “Sayeth ‘uncle’!”

Young Mr. Epitome did not comply. Instead he managed to get his legs in between his opponent’s and twist, using his judo training to bring the two of them down. The impact was enough to knock every portrait from their hangings.

Epitome leapt to his feet and assumed a boxer’s stance, “Come on, Bluto. Let’s see what you’ve got!”

“For the last time, they calleth me Harlagaz!!” the demi-hemigod shouted as he punched Epitome with a right cross potent enough to send him sailing into the Lair Legion’s linen closet. Shelves stacked with blankets and towels collapsed around Dominic.

“Ha!” ‘Gaz barked triumphantly.

The Paragon of Power unswathed himself from the mountain of fabric and charged, tackling Harlagaz at the waist and hurling both of them the length of the hallway and into dull thud’s currently vacant room.

“Phaugh!” the Ausgardian held his nose, “What stinkest here?”

“You,” Dominic replied, buffeting the brawny red head with several punches to the chin.

“Verily, thou art real mature,” Harlagaz hefted thuddy’s stained and pungent mattress and hammered Dominic through the wall with it. There was an explosion of springs and padding. ‘Gaz stumbled over dull thud’s collection of LPs and followed his adversary.

Epitome met Harlagaz with a vicious uppercut that staggered the larger teen. Then he brought both fists down on the crown of the Ausgardian’s head, driving him through the floorboards and into the Legion’s kitchen.

Where, unfortunately for them, two of the team’s support staff were enjoying an early breakfast.

“Whoever invented the Pop Tart deserved the Nobel Prize,” Art Corben said as he slathered the remarkable pastry with cream cheese.

But Mindy Pyrite had other, more pressing concerns, “Do you hear that?” she cocked her head at the ceiling. There were sounds of a struggle upstairs.

“Huh. I wonder what-” Art didn’t get a chance to finish his thought, however, as Harlagaz plummeted onto his robotic girlfriend.

“Mindy!” he hollered.

“Oof. Mine humblest apologies, beauteous one. Epitome, perhaps it hath becometh necessary to call a time out?” the Ausgardian said from his position sprawled atop Miss Pyrite.

"Fine," Dominic jumped down the hole he had helped to make, “Time out,” he hoisted Harlagaz by the collar, “Time in,” he punched him to the dining room.

“You OK?” Epitome held out his hand to Mindy.

“Uh, sure. Though my robe is completely ruined, thank you very much,” the young lady noted as she rose.

“The Office of Paranormal Security will certainly reimburse-” but Epitome’s vow was cut off when Harlagaz crashed into him. The pair tumbled through the outside wall and onto the Legion’s grounds.

“Cheat! Thou art a cheat and a rogue and I willst rip thine head off most gorfully!!” the Junior Legionnaire made a vow of his own, pounding away at his enemy’s chest and shoulders.

“This isn’t Fairyland, God-boy. And you aren’t sparring some troll or hobbit or whatever the f*ck it is you throw down with there,” Mr. Epitome punched back with precision strikes to the ribs and kidneys, “This is the United States of America, and here we eat clowns like you for breakfast!”

As the two titans struggled, someone finally appeared to put a halt to the melee.

“That. Is. Enough!” Hatman rushed out the door with his trademark “H” cap.

Harlagaz and Epitome stopped and stared at the team’s Tactical Advisor.

“This kind of conduct is unacceptable! You two are part of the Lair Legion! Start acting like it or, I swear, crisis or no crisis, I’ll have you both thrown off the team!”

Slowly, sheepishly, the pair stood. Epitome spoke first:

“Mr. Boaz, you are unchanged. Does that mean-”

“Later,” Hatman interrupted, “We’re meeting ASAP, so get yourself together so we can try to figure out what’s going on here.”

Dominic brushed the grass stains on his uniform. The cowl was gone, lost in the struggle, along with several of his field jacket’s buttons. He stuck his hand out to the Ausgardian, “Good fight. You need to learn about using leverage in combat, but your old man would be proud of you.”

Harlagaz eyed the smaller teen suspiciously, but gave in and extended his own massive mitt, “Aye, and though thou art wispy in stature, thou smitest most mightily. Thine wallops carry the force of a runaway grimpenghast.”

There was the obligatory jock handclasp. Hatman nodded.

“Good to see the two of you making up. My guess is you’ll be spending a lot of time together fixing what you’ve broken,” Jay tugged on his cap, “Now, let’s go see how the others are doing….”










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