"Mary Hart and John Tesh here outside the famous BZL auditorium and convention center to bring you all the glitz and glamour that is the Academy of Parody’s 87^th Annual Parodyverse Awards!" Mary said from the stage set up outside the building. Behind her, the red carpet leading into the auditorium was ringed with photographers and other members of the press. "And the celebrity wattage is turned on high tonight, isn’t that right, John?"

"Right you are Mary!" John Tesh answered. "And may I take this opportunity to thank the people at Entertainment Tonight for inviting me to be here! The stars are shining so brightly that I just had to come out of broadcasting retirement to be a part of this special evening!"

"Really John?" Mary answered with a wide, toothy smile. "I thought it was because the only person buying your albums was your mother. Seriously, though, it’s good to have you back, even if you did abandon us to compose some touchy-feely New Age crap!" she added sweetly.

"Ha Ha Ha!" John laughed without much feeling. "Boy, how I’ve missed you." he said as he set his considerable jaw. "But now’s not really the time to get into that. Perhaps we should go to Joan Rivers, who is down amongst the crowd to meet the nominees as they arrive. Are you there, Joan?"

"Oh, Oh!" Joan answered. "I’m here John, and I see Baron Zemo himself getting out of the first limo!" She waived frantically. "Baron! Baron!" she called as Zemo strode through the throng of paparazzi to stand beside her. "Now, Zemo darling, you’re up for ‘Best Titanic Parody’, what do you think your chances are?" She thrust the microphone in his face.

"Well, Joan, a Zemo’s superiority is his birthright. It comes with the mask that every male Zemo has worn for generations." He turned to look directly into the camera. "I’m sure that ‘Best Titanic Parody’ will be just one of my many triumphs tonight! By the time the night is over, I shall leave a path of broken writers strewn within my wake! I am ZEMO, and none may stand against me!"

"Oh, Zemo honey, can we talk about that birthright?" Joan said, turning towards the camera. "I mean, a striped mask with polka-dot fur lining? With a tiara? And purple yet?" She said, shaking her head. "I mean, my original nose was MY birthright, but I still had Dr. Bartholomewl cut it off and throw it in the trash! I’m not saying the mask’s not imposing, darling... In fact, the other day I saw a drag queen wearing one during a bank heist!"

"You dare to disparage the fashion sense of the House of Zemo?!" he said in outrage. "You... a boney old tart who would wear the clashing colors of orange and red?!"

Joan looked at her orange outfit. "I’m not wearing re... BLURGHPT!!!" she exclaimed as her head was blown in half by Zemo’s sidearm, leaving chunks of her brain to rain down on the media.

"You are now." Zemo observed coldly to her bloodstained corpse. It should be noted that he would receive raves in the fashion columns in the days to come, not so much due to his style or even the fear he instilled, but mainly due to the fashion industry’s almost universal dislike of Joan Rivers.

"Joan, is that Fran Drescher I see coming up the walk?" John Tesh asked excitedly.

"Ummm.... Joan’s dead." a stagehand supplied.

"You know, of course..." Mary said in a chirpy tone, "that Fran Drescher is TV’s Nanny! Just one of many celebrities we’ll be seeing here tonight! Isn’t that right, Yanni?"

"So my recording career didn’t pan out!" Tesh shot back angrily. "Will you give it a rest, bitch?! At least I didn’t have to sleep with the producer to get this job in the first place!"

"That’s not what I heard." Mary said, still smiling at the camera.

Visionary, Cheryl and Yo were mobbed immediately upon exiting the limo. Cheryl looked stunning in a deep emerald (and rather low-cut) gown while Visionary cut a impressive figure in his sharply tailored, if conservative, tuxedo. Yo’s tuxedo was far less conservative, ultimately to the point of being damn colorful.

"Please, please..." Yo said, holding up his hand imploringly, "no autographs tonight!"

"This is the press, dear" Cheryl pointed out. "They rarely ask for autographs."

"What do they want, then?" He asked as a series of flashbulbs blinded him.

"Usually for a celebrity to make a scene." she said candidly. "It makes for better pictures."

"Ah" Yo said sagely. He turned to the nearest photographer and, after looking him up and down, drew back his fist and punched him squarely in the mouth. "Glad to be of service!" he said cheerfully.

Whatever the photographer’s answer was, it was considerably less cheerful. Both the mumbled response and the notable lack of enthusiasm were probably due to the fact that he came up spitting teeth.

"Somehow I figured we could dress them up, but we couldn’t take ‘em out..." a familiar voice said from behind them.

They turned to see Jarvis, Lisa and spiffy exiting the next limo. While Visionary noted that spiffy had worn a new fern for the occasion, he had trouble keeping his eyes off Lisa. To call her white satin gown ‘daring’ didn’t do it justice. He wasn’t sure of the physics that were involved in keeping it covering all the right places, but it gave him a whole new respect for math.

"I had no idea you were that devout." Cheryl noted with a chuckle.

"The only thing holding that outfit on is pure faith."

"Jarvis and spiffy seemed to have a religious experience when they first saw it." Lisa agreed modestly.

Cheryl turned back to her husband. "You may shut your mouth now, dear." she said sweetly. "It’s not polite to stare."

"Hmmm? Oh, er... yes..." he said uncomfortably. "Uh, perhaps we should go inside..."

Backstage, the celebrities who were presenting the evening’s awards were gathered together for final instructions. "Alright people!" the stage manager was yelling, "let’s do a final head count!" He looked down at his clipboard.

Fin Fang Foom let his attention wander from the stage manager to the two men who were standing by the back door. They both wore dark suits and sunglasses, and watched the action in the room intently. Bodyguards of some sort, he figured. He was about to approach them when the Dark Knight came up to him.

"They roped you into presenting too, eh?" the Knight asked. "Somehow I got picked to give out the ‘Lifetime Achievement Award’. I was kind of flattered until I met my copresentor."

"Oh? Who’s that?" FFF asked.

"The original pig from ‘Babe’" he said, pointing to a huge, 300lb hog sniffing Vanna White’s ankles.

"Man, he’s really let himself go." the dragon observed. "Is it just me, or are the celebrities not exactly ‘A-list’ for this extravaganza?"

"I noticed that myself." the Knight said. "In fact, I’ve been doing a little checking, and I can’t find anyone who is actually a part of this ‘Academy of Parodies’. For that matter, there’s no record of the first 86 annual Parodyverse Awards."

"Uh-huh." FFF said, looking around. "So it’s a trap."

"Oh yeah." DK said.

"Have you started the pool yet?"

"Twenty bucks a head. So far, Jarvis took the Parody Master, Zemo took Blofish, and Space Ghost has Mr. T." He checked the list. "Oh, and Visionary took Keyser Soze."

"I’ll put twenty on Byrne." the dragon said, fishing the bill out of his pocket.

Out of sight of the assembled celebrities, a dark figure watched. These denizens of the Parodyverse think themselves to be so clever, he mused. Well, tonight the joke would be on them, and it would be a killer...

"These look to be our seats." Jarvis noted as he lead the procession to the front row. "All the nominees sit up front."

"What about Zemo, FFF, Dark Knight, NTU and Space Ghost?" Lisa asked.

"It says here that they are presenters tonight." Cheryl said, looking at the program waiting on her chair. "Visionary dear, do you know that you seem to be nominated for every award?"

"Really?" he asked, looking at his own program.

"Must be a typo." spiffy observed.

"Oh?" Visionary asked, a bit miffed. "Why’s that?"

"Do you really qualify in the ‘Best Performance while Pantsless’ category?" spiffy inquired.

"Yes dear," Cheryl added, "considering that I didn’t have a vote, I’d like to know that as well."

"Typo! Just a typo!" Visionary assured them quickly.

"Still," spiffy said, "That’s one trophy I wouldn’t mind having on my night-stand. It’d make quite a conversation piece."

Banjooo, Pegasus and Starseed came down the aisle to join them in the front row.

"Sorry we’re late..." Pegasus said. "We had to wait while the Police cordoned off the runway. It seems there was some incident involving Joan Rivers."

"It took them awhile to draw chalk outlines around all the pieces of her head." Starseed added helpfully.

Banjooo looked at the seats. "Hey, wait... I thought we sat at a table." he said, concerned. "How do we get served dinner?"

"We’ll have to wave down a hot-dog guy." answered Visionary.

Pegasus looked at him. "I admit I’ve never been to one of these functions before..." she said, "but I’m fairly sure that they don’t have hot-dog venders."

"Wait..." Starseed replied, his eyes narrowing. "What about drinks?"

"No beer guys either." she answered.

"We’re expected to sit through this sober?" He looked around in a slight panic. "How long is this thing going to last, anyway?"

"Probably three or four hours." Jarvis answered with a sigh.

"Aw crap."

Backstage, Space Ghost was enjoying the complimentary buffet for presenters. He was in the process of loading as many cocktail weenies onto his Styrofoam plate as possible when he heard a voice behind him.

"You are the one known as Space Ghost, correct?" the voice said. "I am in need of a distraction, and you shall provide it at the approximate time."

"Yeah, sure buddy. Whatever... you... say..." His eyes went wide as he recognized the man. "Hey! I know you! You’re...Mmnmmmph!" Space Ghost found an ether soaked rag covering his face. Slowly, his world turned black.

"Take him into the alley out back." The man ordered his underling. He held out a loaded syringe. "Inject him with this in two hours, then let him back inside." He grinned evilly. "I have no idea what he may do, but I’ll bet it will be sufficiently distracting."

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to the 87^th Annual Parodyverse Awards!" the announcer said dramatically. "Tonight we honor the best and brightest the Parodyverse has to offer, with special appearances by... Babe, Tony Danza, The Dark Knight, Fran Drescher, Dolph Lungren, Fin Fang Foom, NTU-150, Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas, Suzanne Summers, Space Ghost, Television’s Urkle, Vanna White, Baron Heinrich Zemo and your special guest host, Former Vice-President of the United States, Dan Quayle!"

"Dear god..." whispered Starseed, "the humanity... the humanity..."

"It might not be that bad..." Pegasus suggested gamely.

Former Vice President Dan Quayle took the stage to a smattering of applause. "It’s truly wonderful to be here tonight! Now, many of you have been wondering what I’ve been up to since I left office, well don’t you worry..."

"Who is this man?" Yo asked Visionary.

"I don’t know... He looks kinda familiar." Visionary said, studying the host. "If I remember correctly, he played the father of Candice Bergen’s bastard child on ‘Murphy Brown’..." he looked to his wife. "Is that right?"

"Close enough." Cheryl replied with a grimace as Quayle began singing his big opening number combining the titles of all the nominated parodies. "Three or four hours, eh?"

"’Fraid so." Lisa replied.

The Dark Knight studied the buffet table closely. Cocktail Weenies were spread liberally across the table top, and an Styrofoam plate lay abandoned on the floor. To the untrained eye, it simply looked as though Tony Danza had gone into another feeding frenzy. To a trained detective, however, it was obviously the signs of a struggle. Vanna White wandered over to join him.

"What’s that floating in the punchbowl?" The letter-turner asked.

"Weenies." was the Knight’s grim reply.

"Aw, jeez... Did Clarence Thomas do that?" she said with disgust. "Listen, don’t accept a beverage from that guy, you wouldn’t believe what I found on my Coke can..."

DK ignored the insipid game show hostess. From the look of things, there were two assailants, one male and one female. The victim was male, and had an all-consuming love for free food, weenies included. A quick head count should show if anyone is missing...

"Aaugh!" he cried. Suddenly he felt a crippling pain in his right leg. Turning, he caught a glimpse of a black cowled figure fleeing around the corner, trailing a yellow cape. Unfortunately, he was in no condition to give chase: He had suffered severe trauma to the right knee-cap.

"Wasn’t that the talk show guy? Space Whats-his-name..." Vanna supplied.

The stage manager came running over. "What happened?" He looked at DK’s quickly swelling knee. "This is no good! You can’t go on now!" He consulted his clipboard in a panic. "Where’s Suzanne Summers?

Maybe she can fill in..."

"Uh, Suzanne Summers isn’t even here..." a large blonde woman said.

"Are you sure you don’t mean me? I’m SALLY STRUTHERS..."

"Who?" Dan Quayle asked, as he came backstage. "Oh, wait! You were one of the ‘Facts of Life’ girls! Natalie, right?"

"Uh, no... Actually I was..."

"Joe?"

"No! I was..."

"Tootie?"

"WILL YOU SHUT UP!!!" Struthers screamed as she went for Quayle’s throat, only to find herself tackled by two burly Secret Service agents. She managed to sink her teeth into the smaller one’s leg before they had her completely subdued.

"Oooh, is that punch?" The Former Vice President asked as he moved to the buffet table.

"We’re moving." One of the agents said into his radio. "’Dopey’ has taken up position by the chicken wings."

"Copy that." his co-agent replied, getting off of Ms. Struthers to follow, albeit with a slight limp.

"Anyway..." the stage manager said to Sally as she regained her feet. "Do you think you could handle two awards? It looks like you could use the exposure..."

Fin Fang Foom came over to the wounded Dark Knight. "Come on, we’d better get you to a hospital."

"No! This happened because I was too close to the truth!" DK hissed. "Get me to a seat in the audience. Whatever is going to happen tonight is going to happen on stage, and I need to be there!"

Visionary was in a foul mood. Not only was his stomach growling, but he had yet to win any of the awards that he was nominated for. In fact, he was pretty sure Tony Danza snickered when he announced that "International Incident" was up for ‘Best Short Story’.

Not that anyone else seemed to be having that great of a time, either. Lisa accepted her ‘Best Satirical Essay’ award from Clarence Thomas reluctantly, and still refused to touch it with more than two fingers. Currently, somebody by the name of ‘The Shaper of Worlds’ was accepting an award in the name of The Man Who Wasn’t There, who couldn’t be here tonight.

"Okay, tell me one more time..." Visionary said to Jarvis.

Jarvis sighed. "Alright... Zemo cloned TMWWT and had him infiltrate the LoR, the clone was exiled and somehow became The Man Who’s Everywhere, who merged with the original Man Who Wasn’t There, and now they’re this ‘Shaper of Worlds’."

Visionary pondered this. "Uh... What was the middle part again? And who the hell is Carrington?"

Jarvis refrained from throttling him. "Look, I bet your wife could explain it all much better than I could, or at the very least more patiently."

Visionary turned towards his wife’s chair and repeated his inquiry.

"Verily, ‘tis most mysterious." Donar answered.

"Um..." Visionary said carefully. "You’re not my wife..."

"Nay." Donar said. "Thy wife didst ‘take a powder’. Truly, I doth act as a humble seat filler, so yon television cameras catch not a single empty seat."

Visionary had no idea what he was saying. "Are you a friend of Yo’s?"

Fin Fang Foom helped the Dark Knight into a seat at the end of the aisle. The young woman in the seat next to him gave him a concerned look.

"Dear God! What happened to your knee? It’s the size of a Grapefruit!" she said.

"Nothing to be concerned about Miss...?"

"Tina." The woman answered. "I’m here with NTU... Well, actually not with him, since he failed to mention that I’d be sitting alone while he’s backstage getting ready to present." She leaned forward and whispered. "I know that these people are his friends, but they seem a little..."

"Deranged? Warped? Unsavory? Immature? Lacking in grooming? ...In manners? ...In intelligence?" the Knight supplied.

"Well, yes." Tina said. "Only a bit more so..."

"Observant, isn’t she?" Fin Fang Foom smiled, turning to head backstage.

"There may be hope for her." DK agreed.

"And now, to present the award for best Aquatic Simian in a supporting role," former Vice-President Dan Quayle said with aplomb, "the thigh-master herself, Ms. Suzanne Summers!"

Cheryl leaned over towards Lisa as the "Three’s Company" theme played. "Kind of scraping the bottom of the celebrity barrel tonight, aren’t they?"

An overweight blonde woman walked onto the stage. "For the last time, you stupid @#$&!, I’m SALLY STRUTHERS!"

"The youngest daughter on Family Ties?" Dan asked.

"That was TINA YOUTHERS!"

"How about the Beaver?"

"JERRY MATHERS!" she screamed. "Get the hell off the stage!!!!" She took a threatening step towards him, and Quayle tucked tail and ran. She never realized that her left eye was in the cross-hairs of the Secret Service sniper in the rafters.

"I got a clear shot." Agent Mayne reported.

"Negative." His superior answered. "You are not to fire unless ‘Dopey’ is fired upon."

Mayne raised an eyebrow. "Won’t that sort of be too late?"

"Probably" his superior said with a shrug. "Either way, we still get paid. Union rules."

Ms. Struthers smoothed the front of her dress and took a deep breath. "Ahem" she said with a forced smile. "The nominees for best Aquatic Simian in a supporting role are: Visionary, for "The Dusenburg"..."

"Hey!" Visionary yelled. "I’m human, dammit!"

"Hush, dear." Cheryl chided. "Who knows? You may win this one."

"Really? You think?" he said. His eyes filled with hope as he barely listened to the other names being announced.

".... and the Zemie goes to..." Sally said, opening the envelope, "Banjooo, King of the Sea Monkeys!"

"Aw, crud." Visionary sulked.

Banjooo rose from the audience and ascended the stage. With a great deal of dignity, he stood behind the podium, perched a pair of reading glasses on his Sea Monkey nose, and unfolded a piece of paper.

"Right now, I have been given the opportunity to address the millions of viewers who are watching this broadcast." he said. "As such, I feel I must give my voice to those who cannot speak for themselves, those who are forced to live under the thumb of man. I am, of course, referring to the plight of the forgotten Tibetan Snow Monkeys."

Backstage, Zemo was pacing. Why must this show move at such an infernally slow pace? They were already more than one hour into the show and yet the award for ‘Best Titanic Parody’ was still far down the program. Fin Fang Foom, who was waiting to take the stage, shot him a glance.

"You were talking to Fran Drescher, weren’t you?" the dragon asked.

"How could you tell?"

"Your ears are still bleeding." FFF noted.

Zemo put a hand to the side of his hood. "That harpy has a laugh like the braying of a mule being mounted by an elephant." he muttered darkly.

"Vivid turn of phrase."

"Accurate as well." Zemo growled, resuming his pacing. "I took animal husbandry in college, until the cowardly instructor had me expelled for crimes against nature!" He noticed the dragon was staring at him. "What? It was an agricultural and military college..."

"Ah"

"In closing..." Banjooo said emotionally, "I fear I cannot accept this award in good consciousness until such time as my monkey brethren of the Land, Sea and Air all once again roam free."

"Sky Monkeys?" Pegasus asked in a whisper.

"He’s been under a lot of stress lately." Jarvis answered quietly. He furrowed his brow thoughtfully. "Although I suppose he could mean those flying ones from ‘The Wizard of Oz’..."

"Are those real?"

"No." Jarvis admitted. "But then I would have said the same thing about Giant Sea Monkeys not too long ago."

As Banjooo left the stage beside Sally Struthers, Fin Fang Foom entered, stage right. The orchestra broke into a half-hearted rendition of "Walk the Dinosaur" as he strode to the podium. To his credit, although he seemed irritated, he refrained from crushing them all with his tail.

"At this point in our program, we'd like to pause and acknowledge the careers of the men and women who have passed away in the last year." he said solemnly. "Though they may no longer be with us, their spirit lives on...."

With that, a large projection screen lowered into place behind him. While the orchestra played "Memories", the audience was treated to a montage of death scenes. NTU-150's throat was slashed by Michael Myers, The Man Who Wasn't There blinked in and out of progressively more confusing existences. Evil spiffy (AKA 'stiffy') met his untimely end, and Starseed was destroyed by Space Ghost.

"I don't remember dying." Visionary commented, as he saw himself beaten to death with some form of large fish by a homicidal maniac.

"It was out of continuity, dear." his wife reassured him.

The deaths of such notables as Joel Schumacher and John Byrne brought scattered applause. Yo broke into sobs as dead bunnies filled the screen. The final image was of Joan River's head exploding in slow motion.

"Impressively up to date." the Dark Knight said.

NTU-150 was the next person to take the podium. He did not seem to be happy. "As all of you no doubt realized, the Academy of Parody’s technical awards were given out last Friday in a separate ceremony held in the non-smoking section of the Denny’s off Highway 101." he said bitterly. "The only people in attendance were the nominees and those there for the Grand Slam special."

"Hey!" spiffy declared indignantly, "how come they got to go to Denny’s?"

"Mmmmm..." The Shaper of Worlds said dreamily. "Hashbrowns..."

"The following awards were given..." NTU continued coldly. "For ‘Best Faulty Ship Design’: me. For ‘Best Faulty Zeppelin Design’: me. For ‘Best Faulty Bus Design’: me. For ‘Best Hair, Costume and Make-up’: Lance Burkoff."

"Oh, he’s good." Yo noted.

"For ‘Best Set Crew’: Teamsters Union, local 431." He looked around the room. "We were told we would receive our statues in 4 to 6 weeks, postage due."

"Why didn’t we go to that again?" Jarvis asked spiffy.

"They were showing "The Beverly Hillbillies Movie" on TNT’s ‘Dinner and a Movie’." spiffy answered. "Starseed wanted their recipe for possum."

"Ah, yes." Jarvis said, remembering.

"The Academy thanks all those who toil so hard to make your parodies possible." NTU spat bitterly. "My thirty seconds to recognize their efforts are up, so in closing let me just say..." NTU looked at all the fellow posters, "May you all go to hell." With that he stormed off the stage. Tina, for one, gave him a standing ovation.

Starseed handed the Dark Knight a twenty dollar bill. "Put me down for NTU."

Dan Quayle took the stage again as the disgruntled inventor stormed off. "Now, here to present the next award of the evening," he squinted as he read off the TelePrompter, "the Russian guy Rocky beat up and star of the Punisher movie that collects dust at Blockbusters, Dolph Lungren!"

"WAAAAHHHHOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!" screamed a nude Space Ghost as he streaked across the stage behind the former Vice-President.

"He’s smaller than I remember." Lisa observed.

"Well, it is cold in here." said Cheryl. "But I’m pretty sure that wasn’t Dolph."

Two secret service agents tackled the bare talk-show host and dragged him, handcuffed, backstage. "I AM THE LIZARD KING!!!" he screamed before disappearing behind the curtains.

"That’s it, I’m out of here." Tina said, grabbing her purse. "You people are just FAR too weird for me..."

"I wouldn’t get out of that chair, my dear!" A voice said dramatically from on-stage. The audience looked back to the podium and saw a man wearing an elaborate skull mask. "You may not be able to live with the consequences! I have wired the entire front row of seats to a detonator which I have just activated. If any of you rise:

KABLOOIE!!!!" He laughed an evil, throaty laugh. "Your days of mocking your fellow man have come to an end, my friends! Tonight, I shall finally stand triumphant against you and your kind! My name will be remembered until the end of time for finally putting you vultures in your place! BWA-HA-HA-HA!!!!"

Tina shrugged and started to stand. "Whatever."

"NO! WAIT!" the figure screamed as he dove to the floor and covered his head. He lay there cowering for a few moments before realizing that there was, in fact, no ‘kablooie’.

"I know it’s not my place to say..." Tina said as she smoothed out her gown, "but you people really need to get yourselves a hobby. You all have way too much free time." With that she turned and strode up the aisle.

Jarvis and the rest of the denizens of the Parodyverse gathered around the cowering bomber. "A bomb?" He asked critically. "I mean, you go through all the trouble of putting together a huge awards show, and the best you could come up with is a bomb?"

"Well, I... I ..." the bomber stammered.

"I waited through this infernal ‘night of a thousand has-beens’, and this is the pay-off to the mystery? The grand scheme?" Zemo demanded.

"For that matter, why not just blow up the building once we were all inside?" Starseed asked. He gave the man a disapproving look. "You just had to gloat, didn’t you?"

The bomber looked embarrassed. "It wouldn’t have been any fun, otherwise..."

"Well..." the Dark Knight said, "Let’s see who you REALLY are..." He grabbed a hold of the bomber’s mask and pulled.

They all gasped. "Oh my God!" Lisa cried, "The Anti-Jarvis!!!!!!!!"

"No it isn’t." Pegasus said. "It’s Former Vice President Dan Quayle."

"I know." Lisa shrugged. "I just had A-J in the pool..."

"Why, sir?" Agent Mayne asked. "Why did you do it?"

"All my life, people have been mocking me!" Dan wailed. "My whole existence was practically a parody!" He thrust an accusing finger at Jarvis. "You had to go and make the Parodyverse! I wandered across the BZL while searching for internet pornogra... er... PHOTO-graphy... sites. I read as you mocked people like Gilbert Godfrey and Mr. T!" Tears were streaming openly down his face. "Damn it, I LOVE Mr.T...!!!"

"Careful, sir." Agent Mayne cautioned. "That’s how rumors get started."

"So I decided that you had to be stopped!" Quayle continued. "I played into your egos to get you all together with a phony awards show! Then, when you were all lulled into a stupor by the incredibly long running time of the show, I would arm the bomb wired to your chairs. Using the antics of Space Ghost as a diversion, I would slip into disguise and taunt you: A truly captive audience!" He was raving now. "Then I would leave plates of steaming hot spare-ribs and ‘slaw just out of your reach!"

"Truly diabolical." Zemo noted approvingly.

"But... but..." Quayle stammered. "The bomb should have gone off when any of you stood up! What happened?"

"I can answer that." Cheryl said, joining them. "I was touching up my make-up while NTU was on-stage. I happened to drop my compact and saw the triggering device under my seat reflected in the mirror." She smiled sweetly. "Being an electrical engineer, I quickly deduced that theater seats didn’t need that much wiring and, leaving Donar to fill my seat, reported the device to the Dark Knight. He sent me to find and disarm the bomb, walking me through it by using the radios he stole from your secret service agents."

"Wait..." Fin Fang Foom said. "Who drugged Space Ghost, stole his costume and whacked DK on the knee?"

"Easy..." the Dark Knight answered. "Sally Struthers!" He grabbed her by the hair. "Or should I say..." he ripped the mask off... "Tonya Harding!"

They all gasped.

"Tonya Harding!" NTU cried. "But why?"

"Oh, who even cares anymore!" the former Olympic skater snapped.

"Let’s just get this over with."

"Officers!" Jarvis called to the police who were filing into the room. "Arrest this man and woman for the attempted murder of the writers of the Parodyverse!"

"So close! So close!" The Former Vice President wailed. "I would have gotten away with it... if it weren’t for those meddling kids!"

"Whatever." The police said as the took him away.

"Wait! I claim diplomatic immunity!!!"

"You have to be a foreign ambassador to do that, sir." Tonya said.

"Uh... I’m the ambassador of Alaska!"

"Don’t make me whack you, Dopey."

"Well, that seems to take care of everything." Jarvis said pleasantly.

"Not quite." Starseed added with a look towards the Dark Knight. "All right, don’t leave us in suspense... who won?"

"Hmmmm? Oh!" The Knight pulled a list out of his pocket. "Let’s see... Ah! Here it is... ‘Former Vice President Dan Quayle’ was chosen by...Marksman!" He pulled the envelope full of cash out of his jacket.

"Wahooo!" yelled Marksman smugly as he ran up on stage. "I knew it all along. This whole thing was pretty predictable..."

"Beginner’s luck." muttered Banjooo.

"Welcome to the board!" Jarvis said. "You do know that the winner buys everyone dinner, right?"

"Is that true?" Marksman asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Oh yes..."

"Absolutely..."

"Old tradition..." they all answered helpfully.

"Hey, Zemo!" Pegasus yelled. "Soups on! Marksman’s buying... you coming?"

"Yes... yes... one moment..." he answered as he rifled through the unpresented award envelopes. "Aha! ‘Best Titanic Parody’!"

"Hey, let me see..." Starseed said, looking over his shoulder. He watched as Zemo ripped open the envelope and read the results. "What the hell?!"

"What’s it say?" Lisa asked curiously.

Zemo read aloud: "And the Zemie goes to... Visionary, for ‘The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald."

"I won one! I won one!" Visionary screamed with joy. "I’m King of the World! I... uh..." he noticed Zemo and Starseed advancing on him grimly. "Uh... You know... On second thought... I’m worried about those... er... Tahitian Snow Monkeys too... I think I’d better turn this down until all the starving little monkeys run free... or something."

Dan Quayle is currently making license plates in the Parodyverse Minimum Security Prison’s high-ranking politician’s wing. Tonya Harding is currently serving an eight year sentence for assaulting the Dark Knight, but she has petitioned the Nevada Boxing Commission to grant her a license to participate in prize fights, preparing the way for her next career upon release.

NTU never did receive his 'Zemies' in the mail, however he has convinced Tina to give the denizens of the Parodyverse another chance, provided he does not leave her alone in a room with any of them.

Space Ghost was found passed out in the punch bowl backstage. After dislodging a cocktail weenie from his trachea, Lisa was able to successfully perform CPR on the nude talk show host. At least she said that was what she was doing...

Marksman took the entire cast of the above parody (minus those held over for bail) out to the International House of Pancakes, as it was the only place still open by the time all this came to an end. The dinner bill was $347.52 above and beyond the amount of his winnings. He was last seen wearing a hair-net, scraping syrup off of the dirty plates in the kitchen and vowing revenge.