Tales of the Parodyverse

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Josh Clement
Sun Oct 17, 2004 at 06:49:56 pm EDT
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Follies of Youth #12: Tomorrow’s Child
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(If this doesn’t fit in just ignore it, okay? I don’t mind.)

In one of those posh mansions on Pearson’s Heights overlooking the rest of drab, not-so-rich Parodiopolis (or Paradopolis as we call it when the Hood’s around), five too-rich young men with too much time on their hands strap on their survival gear and check out their very expensive hunting rifles. They’re waiting for the flunkey to get off the phone.

Chessington-Bond: “Well Snotley?”

Snotley the Flunkey (who gets paid a lot to take this kind of crap from five rich a-holes): “There’s some good news, sirs. A positive sighting. This one will be ideal.”

Blashford-Snape: “Details, Snotters, details. Where? Who? Do we have visuals?”

Snotley: “I believe that’ll be the image coming off the fax now, sirs.”

The five guys gather round the grainy photo of a very attractive girl. There are three unusual things about this girl. First, and of special interest to the five rich hunters, she’s absolutely stark naked. Second, she has butterfly wings of rainbow light. And thirdly, she’s flying with them.

Snoodle-Thompkins: “Oh, yes. She’ll do very nicely, chaps. Where’s she been sighted?”

“Byrnewood Park,” Snotley says. “Not more than half an hour ago. Our spotter thought she must be a brand new mutation.”

Fretterton-Smythe: “New enough not to have got the hang of clothing, eh? Well she’ll certainly make a fun club trophy. I’m certainly going to enjoy stuffing and mounting this one!”

Dawley-Crane-Gibbons III: “Any idea what her mutate power is, Snotley? I mean beyond the pretty wings and the traditional mutate-girl bust?”

Snotley: “I’m afraid not sir. The spotter did say that she seems rather disoriented, unsure where to go or what to do.”

This is a good time to pull the camera back and take a look at the room the boys are standing in. It’s got some very nice oak wainscoting, and mounted on the walls are the heads of all the mutates their little club has hunted. Yes, these are not very nice people.

Snoodle-Thompkins: “Well then, we’d better go teach her her purpose in life, sorry little genetic abnormality that she is.”

Snotley: “Sirs, there is one thing…”

Chessington-Bond: “Oh do shut up, Snotters. We don’t pay you to whine about mutates having feelings almost like people do. We pay you to grovel and toady, and frankly you’re not even very good at that.”

Snotley: “Yes sir.”

Blashford-Snape: “Come on then, boys. Crank up the portable mutate-detectors, drag on the night-vision goggles and let’s go bag some nude-butterfly-mutate tail, right?”

Fretterton-Smythe, Chessington-Bond, Snoodle-Thompkins, and Dawley-Vcrane-Gibbons III: “Absolutely.”

Snotley watches them go with a sullen stare. As soon as they’re gone he adds, “As I was saying, the only problem is the spotter’s also noticed De Brown Streak in the area, sirs.”

And now we go into the Byrnewood Country Park, the last bit of natural wilderness on the island landmass of Parodiopolis according to that map in the Where’s Where. Night has fallen, and a pale fairy-like form drifts over the turf beneath the quietly rustling trees. Oh, and there’s a really fast-moving blur closing in on her to get a better look.

De Brown Streak: “Wow! I love my job!”

Butterfly Girl looks at him and thinks, And who are you?

DBS: “Telepathy! Cool mutant power, very popular, and frankly top of the range. But if you have a sudden urge to kind of manifest any big fiery bird effect you might want to give us some warning so we can evacuate the planet. Or maybe call Chris Clairmont.”

Who am I?

“Who are you? That’s what I wanted to know. That and an origin and hopefully a phone number so I can give you a call. You don’t have any kind of origin on you?”

I don’t remember.

“Well, you could be a 90’s Liefield character. That’s explain the lack of origin but your feet seem to be properly formed.”

Who are you?”

De Brown Streak stands up tall. “Joshua J Clement at your service, beautiful nude butterfly lady. My friends call me DBS.”

Did you bring me here? Are you my enemy?

DBS: “I make it a rule not to be enemies with beautiful nude butterfly girls. I’m zany like that. Look, it’s likely that you’re a newly mutated, um, mutate, and the kicking in of your powers has disoriented you for a while. Best thing is to come with me, split a pizza, see a movie, and wait for your memory to come back.”

Butterfly Girl considers this. You are thinking about spawning, she senses.

“Yeah. That’d be because I’m conscious. Don’t worry. I’m not intending you any harm. And you can pick the movie.”

Just then the first tranq dart hits Butterfly Girl in the buttock. Eeek!” she telepaths, then turns on Josh angrily. You set me up, you rotter!

Josh moves forward to protect her, but his velocity is sapped and all the bushes and grasses at his feet grow up to tangle him. “Hey, you got telepathic bush control too!”

A second dart hits Butterfly Girl in the shoulder. Ouch! I… I have to get away. I have to find my friend! She flutters off, but unsteadily.

Josh vibrates free of the foliage. “Wait! It’s not safe, somebody’s firing at you!”

There’s a little bit of DBS’ mind that actually gets to think “Who’s throwing that pineapple-shaped thing on the floor at my feet.”

BOOOOOMMM!!!

“Oh well done, Chessington-Bond! I think you blew up De Brown Streak!”

“Yeah, looks like. Blashford-Snape, make sure he’s dead. But don’t shoot him in the head. We’ll need that for the wall.”

DBS, woozily: “The Mutate Hunters Club! I heard about you guys. Okay, as soon as the ground stops swaying I’m gonna kick your asses.”

Fretterton-Smythe: “Kill him quickly, chaps. The hot butterfly mutie’s getting away.”

Snoodle-Thompkins: “She won’t get far. That second dart had a mutate power suppressor in it, and the first one was a homing tracker.”

DBS: “Okay, and I’m now speeding through a concussion and as soon as that’s over I’m gonna vomit on you at super-speed.” Josh can’t actually stand just now, but he crawls away almost too fast for the human eye to see. The hunters shoot at him but they’re never going to come near.

Meanwhile, Butterfly Girl can’t stay aloft any more. She’s on the ground and her light-wings are fading out. That means she can hide in the deep undergrowth to try and escape. Except that something’s just pinched her bottom.

Eeek again!

DBS: “Sorry, Just me. You had this tracking thing in your glute that I needed to get out and away from here at super-speed. Otherwise those hunters would’ve come straight to your hiding place.”

Butterfly Girl stares at Josh and he becomes so weak he can’t even crawl now. “No, really,” he moans. “I wasn’t copping a grope. Well, not just copping a grope.”

You are injured.

“Nah. Just a bit stunned and then, y’know, whatever you just did to me. But I’m still okay for that pizza.”

If the hunters injured you then you may not be one of them.”

DBS: “I’m not, I promise. If only you had your memory you’d have seen my wanted posters. Er, not for doing anything bad though.”

Butterfly Girl: I think I will faint soon. Their poisons are affecting me. Then they will kill me.

“Just give me a few more minutes to metabolise my concussion and I’ll see to those hunters so they’ll never dare get out of their beds again, I promise you.”

There’s a sound of crashing through the trees. We may not have a few minutes, says Butterfly Girl.

“Okay. Then you try and get away and I’ll hold them off.”

Then you would die. That is unacceptable.

“Well, it would scotch the pizza and movie idea, admittedly. Shame they neutralised your mutate powers, whatever they are. Otherwise you could have just zapped us out of here or something.”

My powers are not diminished. I am just growing too sleepy to use them.

“Nah, they hit you with an anti-mutation suppressor. Expensive black market stuff, knocks out mutate powers for about fifteen minutes. Wait – if you’re not affected by that, then you can’t be a mutate!”

I do not know about that… I do not know anything… Butterfly Girl’s voice is getting slurred.

Then there’s the sounds of the hunters cutting through the undergrowth. “This way, chaps. I can see signs of passage! They can’t be far away.”

DBS: “Okay, time for my little-used mutate ability to pass on speeding up to other people. Pardon the fondle, beautiful nude butterfly lady, but I’m speeding up your metabolism to deal with that tranquilliser. Then you can wake up and save me, okay? Please?”

“Here they are! I found their little love-nest!” Fretterton-Smythe cocks his rifle at DBS.

Butterfly Girl sits up. Her eyes are clear, and deep violet. Guns to buns! she says and several thousand dollars of custom-made hunting rifle turn into tea-cakes.

Chessington-Bond: “What the…”

Butterfly Girl: Weed to speed! All the tangled hedgerows around DBS vanish and suddenly he’s back up to full power (the reverse of what she did to him when they first met).

“Whoa! This is much much better!” Josh grins as he accelerates towards the hunters. “But don’t worry boys, I’m going to take my time and enjoy this!”

Josh spends a full eleven seconds making good his earlier promises to the nasty boys. Of course, to them it seems a lot, lot longer.

Beautiful nude butterfly girl is waiting for him when he’s done (including trussing the rich kids with the evidence of their crimes, speeding over to their mansion to collect more proof, and hitching them all with industrial insulation tape on police Commissioner Don graham’s porch). Thank you.

“You’re welcome. I try to help wherever I can, and especially the beautiful…”

Yes, I’m telepathic. I get the picture. But I’m afraid we won’t be doing the pizza and movie thing. Or the other ideas you had.

“Ah, right. The telepathy.”

Now I’ve remembered who I am I have to be getting back to my friend. He’ll be worried.

DBS sighs. “Yes, all the really beautiful nude butterfly girls have friends, and they’re always he’s. You living with him?”

Actually, usually I live in him, Josh. Haven’t you worked out who I am yet?

For the sake of my public rep, let’s pretend that Cressida doesn’t have to explain to me. Anyway, it wasn’t as if anyone sent me a memo on this all-the-LL-get-shifted-to-16-years-old stuff, is it?

I will say this, though: dull thud’s transmuter tapeworm is going to get better with age!










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