Posted by Dancer (via HH, who had to write this down as it was dictated over the bloody phone to him) continues the tag team that is doomed to continue for eternity on May 10, 2001 at 10:27:28:
Dancer/Donar Special Edition #7
Carlsbad Carl: Aha! I have you this time, Dancer. Trapped as yuh are beneath nine hundred teddy bears with yuh fingers caught in that Chinese puzzle trap an’ the bomb in St Aloysius’ orphanage due to go off in less than two minutes, y’all has no choice but to surrender up your probability powers and to agree to a hot weekend with me in Reno with no holds barred! Dancer: You haven’t won yet, Carlsbad Carl. There’s one thing you have overlooked. Carlsbad Carl: And what is that, sugah? Dancer: Donar is stood right behind you. Carlsbad Carl: Hah! You think a’hm goin’ to fall for that old trick? Donar: *scrunch* [Shortly, after the bomb has been defused and all the orphans rescued…] Dancer: Well that was a lucky entry, Donar. I don’t always know how my probability manipulations are going to work, especially against another probability bender. What brings you to Hell’s Bathroom? Donar, looking embarrassed: I wast looking for thee, actually, fair Dancer. Dancer: More Troia trouble? I thought you rescued her in time from your slimy sister-brother’s clutches and sorted out that whole misunderstanding about that date you had with me? Donar: Aye, though milady Troia was most vexed and hast declared herself a god-free zone for the nonce. *rubs slowly-healing thigh wound* Dancer: And you want to know how to win her back? Donar: Mayhap later. Er… there art another problem. Dancer: More? Donar, I’m becoming practically an Ausgardian agony aunt. Just last week your dad zapped me to the Realm Eternal thinking I was the mortal you were attracted to and reminded me that I was up there with you fighting the Mangag a while ago. Donar: Yes. That art the difficulty, milady. Dancer: The Mangag? Donar, looking very sheepishly: No. When mine All-Pappy didst believe thou wast mine mortal love. You see… well… it seemeth… Dancer: What? Donar: I am most sorry to do this Dancer, but it happens that I must now slay thee anon. Dancer: …????? Donar: If thou wilt but kindly put thy affairs in order I dost promise to dispatch thee as painlessly as can be done. Mine father hast told me he wilt offer thee a job as a valkyrie in the afterlife, of it thou preferest I couldst speak with mine mother about reincarnation… Dancer: Donar, what the hell are you talking about? Why do you want to kill me? Donar: Tis mine eternal sorrow, milady, that I must needs do this to spare thee the grief and horror to come. Thou seest, when the Oldman didst think thee mine mortal romance interest he waxed mightily wroth, and thus unleashed the Curse of the Wilde Hunte upon thee. Twas all a mistake, of course, could have happened to anyone – well, any major sky deity. It sort of slipped out ere he knew the truth. Dancer: A curse? And it makes you have to kill me? Donar: Nay, not I. I art here as a friend to deliver to thee the mercy of a quick ending and convey thee safely to the afterlife of thy choice. This the Wilde Huntesman and his Wilde Packe of hell-hounds, spear-devils, and curse-fiends which wilt seek thee out. If I do not grant thee the boon of death they wilt rend thee body and soul and drag thee back to hel as their slave and torture-toy for all eternity. Dancer: No problem. We’ll just explain that it was all a misunderstanding and ask them not to do that. Donar: I dost not think the Wilde Huntesman will goest for that. He ist a creature of old legend, and once unleashed cannot be pent until his bidden task is done. And since he hast been invoked this time by the Oldman himself he hath all the power of Ausgard behind him. Alas for thou art doomed. Dancer: I was framed. I demand a retrial. Donar: An Ausgardian’s oath art his bond. Place thy head here on this step and I shalt smasheth thy skull most gently. Dancer: No way, big guy. If there’s a mythical bogeyman coming to get me then I’ll be ready to deal with him. It’s not like I’m not used to facing impossible odds. And you can help me battle him… right? Donar, looking like he has swallowed a bug: Er… Dancer: Right? Donar? Donar: Most readily wouldst I take arms gainst this creature, e’en though I hast been weaned on tales of his horror and wast ere threatened that he wouldst come and getteth me if I didst not eat up all mine apples of immortality, and e’en though he wilt manifest with the power of all the gods of Ausgard and with innumerable legions of followers… Dancer: But…? Donar: But I canst not forswear mine father’s command. Tis a god thing. Dancer: But your dad admitted it was a mistake. Donar: Aye. But still, tis a matter of honour. [Thunderclouds rumble. The Twin Parodiopolis Tower gets struck by lightning and the city power grid goes out] Donar: That art not one of mine. The Wilde Huntesman: Of course not, Ausgardian. I control the hunt now. Step aside, Donar. You know you must. The girl is ours now. Dancer: Dooonnnaaaar??? The Wilde Huntesman: Hail, frail mortal wench who is to be our sport. Would you like a count of ten to start running or shall we rend thee now? [once again, to be continued]
[The scene: Dancer is fighting crime, going up against Carlsbad Carl the Albino Probability Cowboy]