Tales of the Parodyverse

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Nats
Sat Apr 10, 2004 at 07:30:26 pm EDT
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The Legend of Big Thick Eddie #1: When an in-joke goes too far!
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The Legend of Big Thick Eddie #1: Because Ian Demanded It!
By Nats

There were some seedy bars in Parodiopolis. They were filled with lowlifes, bums, drunks, drunk bums, gangsters, pimps, criminals, and politicians. They were covered in muck, grime, dirt, filth, and more grime. They hosted arrays of diseases, pestilences, and the occasional black plague. Some were so seedy that they could have sprouted trees of filth and corruption if planted. There were certainly some terribly seedy bars in Parodiopolis.
And then there was the Fatal Toilet.
The Fatal Toilet completely surpassed all possible definitions of the word ‘seedy,’ and started an entire new hierarchy of some unclaimed adjective. The Fatal Toilet was a new paradigm, something that all seedy bars wished to attain., It was also the infamous drinking spot of the Lair Legion groupie dull thud. Whilst the telepathic tapeworm inside thuddy was the true Legionnaire, he had to walk her around on all missions. And that involved waking up before three in the afternoon, something thud didn’t appreciate. So, to make it up to him, Cressida agreed to journey to the Fatal Toilet every night, against her better judgment, to be drowned in alcohol and other odd and intoxicating liquids.
However, this is not their story.
No, this is the story of Parodiopolis’s favorite son, a bouncer by the name of… you’re not going to believe this one… no, I mean it… really, just you wait… here it comes… oh, you’re asking for it now… Big. Thick. Eddie. Not necessarily with that exact punctuation, but yes, this is the story of Big Thick Eddie, famed, and infamed, bouncer for the bar so seedy it defies perception.
Big Thick Eddie was a drinking buddy of dull thud’s. Their friendship extended back to, oh, say, six months ago, when Big Thick Eddie’s status was upgraded from Thick Eddie, aka That Guy That’s Always Sleeping in the Bathroom. He was a massive man, believed to be somewhere in his twenties, but no one was quite sure. Big Thick Eddie stood nigh seven feet tall. However, that was only living up to the Big part. The Thick part came from Big Thick Eddie’s massive girth, so large and rotund that it’s surprising he could fit through doorways without taking the frame along with him. Many were surprised the bar stools could even hold his weight.
Yes, Big Thick Eddie was quite large, yet he was also a quiet and somber fellow who apparently liked opera music and baked potatoes. Yet he was also known as the gruff and succinct bouncer who always carried a baseball bat in his pocket and was never seen outside the premises of the Fatal Toilet. The current rumor was that he lived there. The many patrons of the Fatal Toilet were never sure if he either had a great resistance to alcohol or if he was simply drunk all of the time; they’d only ever seen him behave the way he always did; quiet, forceful, and thirsty.
Big Thick Eddie rested his inhuman behemoth of a form in front of the table nearest the entrance, always with a pint or quart or gallon or bathtub of liquor in front of him and watched the humanity pour in, much like hearty grog into a stein. Peculiarly enough, no one ever asked Big Thick Eddie why he was a bouncer. After all, the bar, defying all known laws of seediness in order to blaze a new seedy path, apparently let anybody in.
Case in point: “Y’know, it wasn’t about world domination or any of that,” gurgled one drunken louse in a funny costume. “I was just looking out fer ol’ number one, y’know? But then, no, then the Man comes up in my face and starts pushin’ me aroun.’ Well, I was lookin’ jus’ fer some dough or somethin,’ I mean, that’s what a super-villain does, y’know? …hey, where’re ya goin’? Dammit, lissen t’me! I’m Killer Shrike, d…dammit…” And then he passed out.
But then there was the day the woman came, and changed everything. “My name’s Keiko,” she said matter-of-factly, with a demeanor that could curdle milk or cause something to spontaneously combust. “I’m looking for a man named Edward Sullivan.”
“Y’mean the TV guy?” asked the bartender. Keiko sighed and hit him over the head with a frying pan that she retrieved from her purse.
“No, not the TV guy,” she said. “I hope, anyway. So, does anyone know where this Edward Sullivan could be?”
Big Thick Eddie sat and watched. And then he stood, to his full slouch. He lumbered over to Keiko and stared blankly into her own fierce eyes. “That’s me,” he said at last, slowly, for full effect.
“You know, your mother’s been worried sick, Eddie. You shouldn’t cross continuities like that. She’s been crying herself to sleep ever since you disappeared.”
“But I like it here,” stated Big Thick Eddie. “They appreciate me here.”
“Well, you’ll have to get back. And you’re lucky that Hooded Hood guy didn’t find you, because that could’ve started who knows how much trouble. Now, c’mon.” She grabbed the flab surrounded his Big Thick Wrist and turned around. “We’ve got to get you back to your proper continuity before anybody finds out we’re here.”
But before she could notice, he produced his baseball bat from his pocket using his free hand and lightly, for him, anyway, hit her over the head with it.
Then Big Thick Eddie turned to the pub’s congregation, and looked at them with his sad eyes. Old Man Hensom nodded. “You do what you gotta do, Eddie,” he said. dull thud saluted him.
Then Big Thick Eddie left the bar and walked off into the night. “Okay, guys,” said the other, more conscious bartender. “Next round’s free. Cheers to Eddie, okay?”
And that’s how the legend of Big Thick Eddie, Continuity Fugitive, began. Or at least, so I think. I was drunk at the time.

In our next installment: Well, I hear two other people have shown interest in writing Big Thick Eddie in some form or another, albeit as different characters. That’s where the whole Continuity Fugitive aspect comes in. Big Thick Eddie could be anyone at any time! And who knows, perhaps he’ll be drawn back to the Fatal Toilet. Or something. We shall see…!

And now, for them thar Footnotes we all love:

dull thud and Cressida: One's a Scottish roadie with the power to teleport straight upwards and fall to earth unharmed, and the other's a telepathic tapeworm. One's a disgusting parasite, and the other lives in his stomach! One's a tagalong, and one's a Lair Legionnaire! You do the math!

Killer Shrike: Moreso than a two-bit hood, this three-bit hood complete with flying harness and laser-bolts and whatnot escaped from the Marvel Universe to find better luck at the crime game in Parodiopolis, only to find it to be the weirdest place he's ever seen. Good thing the continuity police didn't find him, either.

Keiko: Yeah, she doesn't technically exist in the Parodyverse proper, but she can if she wants to, and dammit, she wants to. I can only imagine what Jason thinks of this appearance.

And yeah, if you had an idea for Big Thick Eddie, feel free to write it in. After all, everyone remembers legends differently. As I've said, other people have shown interest in writing a Big Thick Eddie of their own invention, so I say they're free to do so! And now, the countdown to the meeting between Big Thick Eddie and Night Nurse begins.






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