The Final Adventure of Quantum Piett

[England. The 1800's. Or 1700's? Whenever the majority of that Jane Austen/Charlotte Brontë shit happened. Somewhere in the plains and hilltops, amidst the pride and prejudice and sense and sensibility and zombies and sea monsters of all thing British, a lovely countryside estate holds an elegant party. Those in attendance (obviously ignoring zombies and sea monsters, if the above is really true, and shame on them for it) socialize and drink and laugh and dance. From a lone window patio high above, 2 of the guests watch over this nocturnal affair and....retreat into the shadow darkness, imbibing on their drinks as they cringe at what they see.]

Piett: I....I don't know what this is.
Herve: This is tomfoolery, Piett. The utter tomfoolery of white people.
Piett: Are they....dancing?
Herve: Something like that, yeah.
Piett: They're just walking around and standing in lines and skipping in circles.
Herve: These are your peeps. Shouldn't you know?
Piett: They are not! They only appear to be! I grew up in the Outer Rim, on an Imperial world! It's not my fault I have had at one point in my life the same exact dialect as these.....these.....
Herve: Grasping for appropriate words?
Piett: Trying not to say the ones that come immediately to mind! This shit is embarassing!!
Herve: I can only hope this is actually a world from one of those parody novels where zombies and sea monsters run wild amongst the classic literature claptrap. [drinks] But it won't be. [drinks] It rarely is anymore. Remember the days when we'd just leap down there and kill them all with nary a thought of concern for them or common sense or law? Piett: I'd like to think those were the old slightly-less coherent days. We're more.....refined these days.
Herve: If we were more refined you'd leap down and trot about like a jackenape. [looks up to the heavens] No, I really do feel like he's just given up on us.
Piett: Pshaw. We're the only creative outlet he's....ever really had. [drinks] How sad is that?
Herve: What's that old saying?
Piett: "Actually, Mary Todd, we should go to the theatre tonight. And then when we get home I'm gonna FUCK YOUR BRAINS OUT"?
Herve: Are you quoting Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter?
Piett: You're referencing literature quite a bit tonight. A bit more than I'd expect. [drinks] Which is absolutely none whatsoever. [pause] And no, I'm not.
Herve: Oh. Well, that's not what I was referencing.
Piett: Good lord, what is with you and your slight signs of intellectualism?! Did we each get the other's dialogue here?! [pause] Although fucking her brains out would explain an awful lot about that woman...
Herve: Here here.

[As they are about to touch glasses and toast, the Victorian Age of England suddenly - and almost violently - vanishs in front of their eyes, and reality suddenly jerks them into the Space Time Continuum. Herve promptly vomits.]

Piett: MY SHOES!!! [pause as he shakes the puke off] What the hell just happened there? Why are we bac--

[As Herve wipes his mouth and stands up, Piett silently grabs him head and twists it around.]

Herve: OH GOD I'M DEAD!!!wait wait....I'm obviously not because I'm still talking. I thought ther--WHA!!!????!?!?!

[Herve's eyes have met with what Piett had discovered only seconds before: the very nice and wonderful mansion of Cosmos and Chronos, masters of Space and Time......]

Herve & Piett: ...

[Respectively. Wow, guys, really?]

Herve & Piett: ...

[Well this is unfortunate. They normally talk when I want them to. Hrm. Anyway, the mansion of blah blah blah is being emptied and packed up by a moving company and driven away to lord knows where because I never really gave a good visual explanation of what the Continuum really looks like all these years. Hrm. Visual element woulda been nice. Maybe I should put this crap up on Kickstarter or something.]

Herve & Piett: ...

[Oh come on now! It's moving trucks! For all you know they're just moving to Scranton or Endor or something.]

Herve & Piett: ...

[I need someone to say it. Dammit, why can't I just move on?! Hold on...]

Will Friedle: FEEEEEEEENAHAHAHAHEY!!!!! [disappears, perhaps next appearing in the Boy Meets World revival - coming in 2014 to Disney Channel]

[Not him! Wait....]

George Gaynes: MAHONEY!!!! [clutches chest, falls over, plummets into the oblivion of the Continuum]

[Shit! Hang on, let me find him......YES! HERE HE IS!!!]

Richard Henry Lee: Respective..........LEE! [disappears]

[YEAH!!!]

Herve: .....I wanted to say so much.
Piett: A few seconds more and I was sure he'd just stop writing forever. I did not see the 1776 reference coming.
Herve: You should have, you heathen.
Piett: What is going on here? How long have we been gone?
Herve: Normally it's, like, a couple seconds, because there's always stuff on TV we want to get back for and watch.
Piett: We deftly traverse across timetreams and through parallel universes with the greatest of ease, yet still can't comprehend Tivo or On Demand.
Herve: Or VCRs.
Piett: Speak for yourself. [pause] Although it's been a while...
Cosmos: Jumping jehoshaphat, my friends! You're here in time!!
Piett [to self]: Evidently not.
Herve: Quiet, you, the man using old timey exclamations! Something bad is afoot!
Cosmos: Indeed! We've....we've been bought out!!
Herve: Good gravy!
Piett: Hullabaloo!!
Cosmos: Stop mooking me. I haven't said "jehoshaphat" in a Yoda's age.
Piett: No, we're really being serious with our shocked responses!
Herve: We were? [kick to the shin from Piett] Yes! We were!!
Cosmos: This is utterly traumatic.
Herve: I can imagine. You bitches are unemployed!
Cosmos: As are you!!
Herve: Gadzooks! So much for giving at shit about Tivo and On Demand now!
Piett: How does this even work?! Bought out....by who?
Cosmos: Bought out.......BY DISNEY!!!

[Herve vomits again.]

Piett: MY SHOES AGAIN!!!
Cosmos: I apologize for the time/space displacement, it can do a number on one's digestive system.
Herve: No, this was because of Disney!!
Piett: Well while Herve is shining my shoes we'll move the story forward.
Herve: I'm not s--
Piett: SHINE MY SHOES!

[Herve sighs, then leaves and returns moments later.]

Cosmos: This is a level of control I never knew you had.
Piett: Neither did I.
Cosmos: Kinky.
Piett: Stop that!
Cosmos: Fine. You probably want more details while he's....humbly at work.
Herve: I can hear you, asshole.
Cosmos: But not as well as usual. We're even taller to you now! More distance from way down there to way up here.
Piett: Burn. So how did this happen?
Cosmos: The hell if I know. I'm watching John the Baptist get beaten to death with giant mallets...
Piett: Good God, man, why?
Cosmos: I watch a lot every day, just happened to catch that. Plus I never knew they killed him with mallets. I figured spears and swords and typical ancient Roman stuff. But beheaded with a mallet.....they did *not* explain that one well in the Bible at all. So one minute that, then the next I'm being approached by Disney representatives and lawyers who throw legal mumbo-jumbo around quicker than a hiccup and somehow amidst the confusion I may have signed over the lease on this place and thus they've purchased the entirety of the Space/Time Continuum. I think they're leveling this place and expanding on the Hall of Presidents.
Piett: Awesome!

[Herve punchs him in the shin.]

Piett: I mean, horrible! Ish!
Piett: Please tell me they gave you Lucas money for it.
Cosmos: Rather certain all we got out of it was a condo in San Fransisco and 2 slightly positive reference letters to local bookstores in the Bay area.
Piett: Cond.....2....THAT'S IT?!?!!
Cosmos: To be fair, working in a bookstore woulda be kinda neat. They're so few and fleeting these days...
Piett: What about us?!?!
Cosmos: You? Oh.....well you're screwed, I reckon. [pause] Wonder why I hadn't reckoned that before now...
Piett: Son of a BITCH!!
Herve: Ok, I've only heard bits and parts from down here but I heard the yelling bits and I'm figuring things are not going well way up there.

[Piett grabs Herve and hoists him up to his feet.]

Herve: But I was *almost* finished! Aw man, I was really getting into it...
Piett: We're screwed, Herv! No payoff, no new jobs, nothing!
Herve: We still have all your stuff.

[Chronos walks in, sulking and obviously very depressed.]

Piett: Stop being so depressed. At least you have a home and possible financial future ahead of you...
Cosmos: Wait for it...
Piett: Wait for--
Chronos: A lifetime of devotion, years and eons of acquirement....laid to waste. Countless databases...gone. Gone forever...
Herve: What?
Chronos: The......the porn. It's all gone.
Piett [sternly]: What.
Herve: Oh no! I feel your pain, my friend...
Cosmos [facepalms]: You should.
Piett: Huh?
Chronos: It's ALL gone...
Herve: I know, dude. It's ok.
Chronos: GONE! ALL OF IT!!
Herve: There the....wait, what are--?
Chronos: ALL OF IT! ALL GONE! FOREVER!! NO MORE EVER!!!
Piett: What's happening here?
Cosmos: One of Chronos' side projects was......[sighs]......cataloging and archiving all porn ever made. In the past, present and future.
Piett: You mean...
Herve: What......WHAT?!?!?!!!
Chronos: GONE!!!
Herve: GONE?!?!!
Chronos: ALL OF IT!!!
Herve: AHHHHHHHH!!!!!
Chronos: AHHHHHHHH!!!!!
Herve: AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
Chronos: AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!
Herve: AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!
Chronos: AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!

[Herve and Chronos collapse and embrace in their weeping sorrow...]

Piett: Well it's nice this particular and despicable character point needed to be touched on. Now I need to go pack my shit.
Voice: Don't bother, it's all gone too.

[Ben the Spider-Man - wearing a business suit - walks into the room, as movers carry items and objects past him.]

Piett: Ben?! What happened to you?!
Ben the Spider-Man: It seems back when Disney bought Marvel, they bought everything that had to do with it. Including offshoot products, loosely affiliated entities, and parody characters. Like me. They only until rather recently discovered I existed.

[Piett goes to chuckle, but he knows where this is going.]

Ben the Spider-Man: Likewise, the Disney/Lucas deal worked the same exact way. it's why they cancelled all those promising TV shows and video games in development, why they had Mel Brooks killed for Spaceballs...
Cosmos [aside to Piett]: This part will be awkward when Mel Brooks eventually does die...
Ben the Spider-Man: ...and why they're now literally dismantling and mothballing Quantum Piett forever.

[Herve and Chronos stop crying and return to the events at hand.]

Piett: So we're.....offshoot, loosely affiliated, parody? I've never known what, exactly.
Ben the Spider-Man: An annoyance, really. At first it was just to shut up the slight spinoff nature of Quantum Piett...
Herve: We fly around in a Super Star Destroyer and plow Twi'lek dancer girls and we're a "slight" spinoff.
Piett: I don't do alien sex.
Herve: Fine, we fly around in a Super Star Destroyer and *I* plow Twi'lek.
All: WE GET IT.
Herve: Harumph.
Ben the Spider-Man: But as they investigated what's been going on here and the overall property they realized.....expansion was limiteless, and very affordable.
Piett: Way to toot your own horn, Walsh.

[No problem.]

Piett: And they sent you to shut us down.
Ben the Spider-Man: Yeah. Sorry about that.
Piett: No problem. [looks up] FOURTH WORLD!!!

BOOOMMMMM!!!!!!!!

[From a suddenly created Boom Tube emerges Darkseid, the New Gods of Apokolips! Seeker of the Anti-Life Equation! Destroyer of chaos, bringer of order! Big stoney guy with omega symbols all over him and no skirt.....wait, what?!]

Darkseid: Hello all!
Ben the Spider-Man: Darkseid?!
Piett: Can you please kill this Disney/Marvel lover, please?
Darkseid: Hells yeah! [blasts Omega beams at the hapless Spider-Man clone]
Ben the Spider-Man: WhaAARGGHHH!!!!! [dies]
Cosmos: Fun!

[Long pause.]

Darkseid: So......things don't look good here. Guess you're cancelled too, huh? I know how thay feels.

[Pause]

Piett: ......dude, you look like shit.
Darkseid [sighs]: Yes. I know. There have been...changes where I am as well.

[Darkseid hands Piett a New 52 DC comic book. And an advertisement for THE MAN OF STEEL. And other DC Comics handout things.]

Darkseid: Please support us. We could really use the business.
Piett [flipping through the comic book]: This......is totally unnecessary. I don't understand why all these things needed to be updated like this, find huge gaps of logic even skimming through it and wish it was still the same as what it used to be....
Darkseid: Believe me....I SO fucking know. I gotta go......keep looking like this now. Party on, dudes.

BOOOMMMMM!!!!!!!!

[Darkseid enters the Boom Tube, back to Unpleasantville.]

Piett: Well that was another level of depressing we didn't need. It's.....it's probably time to go now.
Cosmos: Not packing?
Piett: Why bother?
Cosmos: Good, because all that stuff went to goodwill weeks ago.
Piett: Weeks?! Why didn't you tell us?!
Chronos: Doesn't seem like weeks. At all. You know, the timeline has been all fucky since you two jumped off that escalator to Heaven in what should've been the last adventure.
Herve [aside to Piett]: How does he know that? Didn't he die or something way before that story ended?
Chronos: YOU SEE?!?
Cosmos: I've never been good with bad news. Cadmus quit when I tried to tell him. Other supporting characters called with an earful when the checks started bouncing.
Herve: Those assholes were being paid to be assholes?!?
Chronos: Disney's said they're just putting us on the backburner.
Herve: Yeah, we're never coming back.
Piett: So this is all we could muster for the final farewell? What happened to the other supporting cast members from over the years?
Cosmos: They've vanished into the cavernous void of fan fiction, probably never to return.
Herve: I refuse to believe that. Walsh?!

[Right.]

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AND NOW, THE INTERLUDE WHERE WE TELL YOU WHAT'S HAPPENED TO THE SUPPORTING CAST OF QUANTUM PIETT!

Chronos: You know, if Disney really *was* buying us, you'd think they'd want this to end a whole hell of a lot quicker...
Cosmos, Piett & Herve: SHUT UP!

*******

H.G. WELLS.

[In his library, Herbert George Wells sits scribbling some biology notes. Because, you'll recall, this version we've always used is an evil biologist. Even though he's sitting in a library. Hrm. Anyway, he suddenly perks up and realizes--]

H.G. Wells: Hang on. I'm an actual person. No one *owns* me.

[He runs out of his library, into the back room where he keeps his time machine, and flies away into the fourth dimension.]

....

[To say my logic on this character has always been solid is a lie. A damnable lie.]

BOOOMMMMM!!!!!!!!

Darkseid: Oh shit did you just say oh shit you didn't right back to my shitty New 52 life bye again!

BOOOMMMMM!!!!!!!!

*******

SUPREME PONTIFF HOOK.

[Living in a monestary, the now-Monsignor Hook has resigned as Supreme Pontiff. Replaced by an Argentinian man with one lung.]

Piett: Wait, I thought he hung himself via self-asphyxiation?
Cosmos: He did. That happened later when he realized he was replaced by an Argentinian man with one lung.
Piett: Ah. [pause] At least I remembered the best part.

*******

THE WEBMASTER.

Herve: ...is dead! He's dead!! I remember that one! Akira.....Gangnam Style.....North.....Korea.....

[Everyone else is looking at him.]

Herve: Frak it, I'm allowed to be proud of my solo adventures that don't always involved you bastards.

*******

LANDOZZEL.

[In his evil lair - which, again, is not explained very well because nothing was ever set there in past stories - Landozzel and his colleague H.G. Wells shake hands and embrace as their adventures also conclude.]

H.G. Wells: I'm glad I thought to venture over here. That means double pay for this story! Bwahaha!
Landozzel: Yeah, about th....oh never mind. Where are you off to, my friend?
H.G. Wells: Oh, I'm off to explore what came before and the shape of things to come.
Landozzel: How did you never reference that one before?
H.G. Wells: I know. It such an awesome one, isn't it? And you?
Landozzel: Retirement somewhere, I suppose. And I'll have to rename myself too. They won't find me and reintegrate me into the Star Wars mythos if I change my name.
H.G. Wells: Clever.
Landozzel: I'm thinking....Spockhan.
H.G. Wells: And compliment redacted.
Landozzel: Fine. Call me.....[grins evilly].....Ishmael.

Piett: Ha. Haha. He's funny. Very funny. Ass.

*******

GEORGE GAYNES.

[Still falling through the Space/Time Continuum. Still clutching his failed heart. Still--WHEN SUDDENLY!!!!!

George Gaynes: Oof!!! Dear Lord, where--Brian Blessed?!?
Brian Blessed: BY JOVE, MAN, GEORGE IS ALIVE!!!!!!
George Gaynes: Why are you yelling so much?
Brian Blessed: I'M BRITISH AND HAVE A STRONG DESIRE TO ALWAYS BE THE CENTRE OF ATTENTION!
George Gaynes: I.....Are....are we flying blind on a rocket cycle?!?
Brian Blessed: WE ARE!!
George Gaynes: My goodness, I'm so glad I saw TED a few weeks ago and only now understand these references.
Brian Blessed: AND OFF YOU GO, ASSHOLE!!!

[Brian Blessed - wearing his Vultan the Hawkman outfit, btw, so you have to immediately ask why he's flying on a rocket cycle in the first place - kicks George Gaynes off and sends him back careening to an unknown fate in the colorful mystical voids of the Space/Time Continuum...]

*******

BEN THE SPIDER-MAN.

WhaAARGGHHH!!!!! [dies.......]

[Or not?]

[Ben the Spider-Man suddenly finds himself in the kitchen of a Pizza Hut.]

Ben the Spider-Man: Wha.......is THIS where he blasts everyone with his Omega eye beams?

Jeff Gordon: Move over, bud. Order up!
Steppenwolf: Order up? We don't say that. We just wait until the waiters eventually remember the order might be ready and they come over to check.
Glorious Godfrey: Hey how do I make these stuffed crust pizzas again?
Metron: Even I don't know that. Is there a training manual we can check?
Desaad: Training? HA!!
Ben the Spider-Man: This explains the service in every Pizza Hut everywhere. [pause] And I died to make that joke. Fuck me....

*******

KENNETH COLLEY.

[In his home, someplace in England because I'm not a stalker, Ken Colley stops what he's doing momentarily.]

Ken Colley: It......it feels like a dark nightmare is about to end. [pause] Good.

[He returns to whatever he was doing.]

*******

LUCY FERR.

[A gravestone marks her last location.]

Piett: Oh holy shit that's sinister!!

[No, no....she makes gravestones now. She owns a chain of gravestone stores. This particular gravestone was her last placed piece of merchandise.]

Piett: Oh. Whoa. That's....better?

[Financially, no, but we're getting boring enough without dissecting the trade of death in America. Speaking of that....]

*******

THE BOSS.

[A television screen displays his last known appearance anywhere. It is a scene from Lifetime's THE BIBLE, where it appears he is impersonating a certain President of the United States--]

Herve: JOHN TYLER!! [pause] Sorry. Guess I don't mind the Hall of Presidents either.
Piett: We don't have to watch this whole damn thing again [Herve mouths "again?"] to know what happens to him, right?
Chronos: No. He ended up getting stuck in the movie and has to relive it all over and over again. The Boss exists now only as a fictional character in being watched by conservative little old church ladies. Funny, really.
Piett: I see. [pause] So wait, why is bad stuff like death and cancer and reality TV and EVERYTHING HAPPENING TO US NOW still happen?
Cosmos: Because you touch yourself at night.
Chronos: Well, fuck, then, no one's safe...
Cosmos: And before you start hoping for some eternal hell war involving feuding rivals trying to take his throne, and maybe us for some stupid reason...
Herve: No one's hoping for that. Ever.
Cosmos: ....Disney bought hell too. And Heaven too, probably. A few days before us. Right after they bought Apple. And a day before Google caved to their offer.
Piett: Shit. Disney really does own everything now.
Cosmos: They don't own Yankee Candle yet. Seriously, that's it.
Herve: WOW.

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Piett: So that's it?
Cosmos: Yes. No one else cooperated in wanting to do a cameo or even allow a reference, and are probably being killed by Disney officials now for it...
Herve: And you two....
Chronos: I still think we should renig on that offer and just go to the Bahamas, Cos.
Cosmos: For the last time, Chronos, it is not a gay resort and it is NOT the actual Atlantis!!
Chronos: You're no friggin' fun...
Herve: Why not go back to your homeland....Natori-Vilal? The universe within a molecule within a molecule of space and time's butt or whatever?
Cosmos: Oh no, they're not gay friendly there at all.
Chronos: Republicans are......EVERYWHERE.
Piett: And how does reality exist without this place, or you?
Cosmos: Well, we've mostly been doing guesswork all these years. Plus the time turbine will keep things going, and Disney wasn't insane enough to overlook that.
Piett: Time turbine?
Cosmos: Yeah. Giant generator thingamabob in the basement. The thing that truly channels the powers of the universe and allows the passage of time and its cohesive nature with space. We never went through this with you? Never even had a story chapter feature it in any way?

[Piett and Herve shrug.]

Cosmos: Well, that explains a lot.....most everything, probably.

[Suddenly the walls around them begin to pixalate.]

Chronos: Oh shit, this is it!!

[Chronos grabs his bag of belongings - mainly some shirts, shorts, stuffed animals and--what's this?]

Chronos: It's......IT'S SOME PORNOGRAPHY!!!
Herve: AAAHHHHOOOOOHHHHH!!!!!!
Chronos: On video cassette!!
Herve: Oh.
Chronos [looking up]: God in Heaven......you haven't been bought out AT ALL!

[Cosmos and Chronos also begin to pixelate out of clear sight.]

Cosmos: And one more thing, my colleagues in space and time.........never contact us. Ever. Stay away from wherever we are at all times. Please. I've.....just had enough of you, and you're HIDEOUSLY dangerous people I no longer wish to have anything to do with ever again.
Chronos: Ttyl, boyos! Cya on the other side at some point!

[Cosmos slaps Chronos for contradicting his final dickish moment....then kisses his cheek better, as they disappear forever.]

Piett: Al.....right then. There those assholes go. Wow.

[Silent pause, as the mansion - and indeed, even the swirling elements of the Continuum beyond it - fades away.]

Piett: So......this is it?
Herve: Seems that way, yes.
Piett: What happens to us.....once all this officially goes away? I mean, we don't have an exit strategy like these 2 got.
Herve: Oh. Yeah. Shit. Well, I figure we'll go back to where we were before we started this grand confusing series of adventures.
Piett: Oh....OH!!!
Herve: What?
Piett: Don't you remember?! I was about to DIE at the end of Return of the Jedi!
Herve: Have I ever told you that it's SO WEIRD that you're know you were a movie character?
Piett: Forget that! I don't wanna die!!
Herve: "Die, dickhead".....heh, YOU were the dickhead. I did forget that.
Piett: I WAS!
Herve: You.,....YOU WERE! Gah!!!

[Pause]

Piett: ......I'm actually ok with it.
Herve: What?!
Piett: I've lived quite a life thanks to.....this quantum world that's currently evaporating forever all around us. I've made friends and enemies and other questionable supporting character associations......I've seen incredible sights and places and things and shit go down......for more than a few natural lifetimes could've ever generated. I've been to Heaven and Hell and back again. And I met William Daniels. [pause] I'm good.
Herve: Fuck. And I thought going back to being part of the 4th smallest office services provider in southern Idaho was bad...

[Without anymore words, Herve and Piett hug. They stop to try and act like that was a momentary glitch in their manhood. But it wasn't. It was just right.]

Herve: Holy fucking shit, did Walsh just turn gay?!
Piett: That schlock belongs on Lifetime with my ex-brother-in-law.
Herve: Ouch. Well at least you won't see him when you die. You'll get to hang around murdered Lone Ranger and John Carter executives and have unsold Mars Needs Moms and Home on the Range DVDs shoved up your ass in hell for eternity.
Piett: Really? Couldn't even give the Empire a chance to maybe be on the right side of things?

[Pause]

Piett: Oh you're right, of course I'm going to hell. [sigh] I *have* seen enough.

[They begin to fade.]

Piett: Goodbye, old chum.
Herve: Fare thee well, dick. And remember....may the Force be with you. Always. [pause] Especially for the next few minutes when you die.
Piett: Yeah. That's just what I needed.

[Herve gives him the Spock salute. Piett gives him the middle finger. They laugh......and then are gone.

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.......AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

Piett crashes down on a smooth steel floor. He sits up as fiery chaos has erupted around him. The Super Star Destroyer Executor is veering out of orbit of the Death Star and in a fatal free fall toward the space station. His second-in-command, Gherant, lies dead next to him, his skull cracked open and smeared against a computer console. Officers around him are screaming and dying and running in vain effort to yet live. Many embarassing sights and sounds fill the command bridge. Grown men screaming for their mothers, cursing the Emperor and gods alike, crying hysterically, and - beside Piett on the floor - a data technician vomits his guts out in terror, and somehow finding the breath amidst the bile to scream "Oh Gods above, I'm pissing and shitting at the same time!"

Piett: THIS is how it ends. [looks up] Years of thinking how you could end this drivel and it's LIKE THIS?! Well, that's it dammit. Get it over with! Cut me off mid sentence and slap that big italicized *fin* on to tell us it's--

[WHEN SUDDENLY A TEAR IN THE FABRIC OF SPACE AND TIME OPENS......AGAIN!!!!!!]

Piett: Holy crap!!! [falls backwards]
Herve [wearing a sombrero]: DUDE!!!
Piett: WHAT?!?!!!
Herve: I take back all that crap I said about the Idaho office services industry!
Piett: You didn't say anything, you only implied it!
Herve: Whatever!! This shit is WHACK! Come on!
Piett: You mean--?!?
Herve: Shouldn't you know by now........IT NEVER ENDS!!!!!!!!
Piett: YEAH!!!!!!

[Piett leaps through the fabric of space and time.......

THUS ENDETH THE ADVENTURES OF QUANTUM PIETT!

Piett: Probably.

[Yeah, probably.]

Piett: Gotcha.

*FIN*

Literary Disasterpiece

Herve: What's going on here? [pause] Is that Nathaniel Hawthorne? Watching Easy A, the modern cinematic retelling of The Scarlet Letter?
Piett: How did you know.......ANY of that?
Herve: Walsh was very blunt with the title.
Piett: Ah. Apologies. I've been too.....entranced by what's happening here.
Herve: What, exactly, has been happening here?
Piett: Well, he's mainly been swearing a lot and yelling at the TV screen. Dropping f bombs with the greatest of ease.
Herve: Would part of it be that he's amazed and horrified at the sight of moving pictures.
Piett: No, he's pretty accepting of that. He's just trashing this movie. Also, he's very upset that Stanley Tucci degraded himself by being in this film.
Herve: How the shit does Nathaniel Hawthorne know who Stanley Tucci is?
Piett: I've been attempting to grasp that one. As of yet, I have a vague shrug of the shoulders and disturbed look on my face as the only reply.
Herve: Is there a reason he's sitting in our lounge watching this?
Piett: Not really. The visual just came to me in a dream one night and I had to make it a reality. [pause] I now regret that, because there really isn't much beyond the visual now, is there?

[Herve thinks for a moment.]

Herve: I see flashes of possible literary brilliance and probable literary stupidity.
Piett: Like that time we smoked crack with Lewis Carroll?
Herve: Dude, it was free crack. Shut up.
Piett: Or that time you kidnapped and starved Suzanne Collins because you didn't really understand the premise of "The Hunger Games"...
Herve: ...and then later realized I'd kidnapped and starved Joan Collins, who is....was....someone else entirely? Again with the shut up.
Piett: Or that time we snuck the Creature from the Black Lagoon into Walden Pond to blow Emerson's mind? Or we made Stephen King write a story not about Maine? Or we killed Edgar Allen Poe? Or the time you had a robot kill Martin Van Buren when you thought it was Isaac Asimov?

[Pause]

Herve: It's about on par with all those things.
Piett: So not worth it?
Herve: Nope.
Piett: Good. [aims ray gun at Nathaniel Hawthorne] Piss off, Hawthorne.
Nathaniel Hawthorne: Whaa-nGAHHHH!! [incincerated, dies]

Herve: I feel like we just deliberately skipped an adventure......not to mention murdering an American insititution.
Piett: Probably all for the best.

*fin*

SAW The Animated Series, or "Wocka Wockapocalypse!"

[Space/Time Continuum. Rec room. Typical Quantum Piett opening. Herve and Piett are watching the 1970's cartoon Return to the Planet of the Apes. They are, quite frankly, dumbfounded.]

Herve: This is a reboot, right?
Piett: I have no idea.
Herve: They're riding in cars and live in a modern city with electricity and television, and their reporters wear old timey press tags in their hats.
Piett: This might be an acid trip.
Herve: Us, or them?!
Piett: Both, probably. We did do acid earlier.
Herve: But even this is a bit much for an acid trip!
Piett: Should we investigate?
Herve: You mean go to the Planet of the Apes and see if this shit happened like this?! I'm too afraid!
Piett: But it's a cartoon. An old one, so everything will be simple and moreorless safe for us.
Herve: I don't even understand how we travel to cartoon worlds. They're drawings of varying quality with voice over actors. We're real people. I don't want another Roger Rabbit experience.
Piett: That wasn't so bad.
Herve: Or worse, a Cool World experience.
Piett: I'd mentally blocked that one. Thanks, asshole.
Herve: Deal with it.
Piett: Ditto.
Herve: Well said.
Piett: Let's go!

[Piett activates a portal. He leaps in. Herve, confused and scared, grabs a pile of drugs from the end table, digests them and jumps in too.]

¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø

[Herve wakes up, some time later, on a cold tiled floor. He can barely see in this very dark room. He senses someone near him. Judging by the scent of Old Spice, he figures it's Piett.]

Herve: Is that you and your Old Spicey musk, Piett.
Piett: It is.
Herve: Are we in a cartoon?
Piett: I don't know. We look--

[Piett looks at his hands. They are very much animated, in the traditional line-drawing way. Herve laughs, nervously, and looks at his. But they, it turns out, are very much animated in the Pixar/cheap knock-off Dreamworks way. He swears something awful about his grandmother.]

Herve: The shit!! I can't even be *real* animated?!
Piett: It's not that bad. [pause] Wait, how could you smell my cologne if we're cartoons?
Herve: Ok, first off it's not cologne...it's very overwhelming underarm deodorant. And B.......I don't know.
Piett: Cartoons smell. Who knew.
Herve: You know, you don't seem very animated.
Piett: What you are is not animated, Mr. CGI.
Herve: Ouch. Lighten up. We're cartoons. I don't think we've ever done that before.
Piett: Maybe. But I barely remember the old days. [pause, shrugs] Probably for the best.
Herve: Yeah.

[Pause]

Herve: Oh god, we didn't land in the Return to the Planet of the Apes cartoon, did we?

[Piett looks around. As their eyes adjust to the darkness they can make out their surroundings much better. They are quite shocked at what they see.]

Piett: Oh. We SO did not.

[Indeed, their surroundings are most familiar - they're in the underground bathroom from......]

Herve: Wait, they made a cartoon about SAW?!?
Piett: Apparently...yes?
Herve: You said cartoons would be safe and simple! This is very much the exact opposite of all that!!
Piett: I was certain must've taken a wrong turn at Albuquerque.
Herve: You m-- [long pause] Cute.
Piett: Actually this doesn't look like a cartoon. Or maybe like a incredibly realistic cartoon that looks like real life.
Herve [points in horror]: LOOK!!!!

[They see a body lying in the blood. Immediately, they beat the shit out of it. This goes on for several minutes. The puddle of blood only gets bigger as the savage attack goes on. 24.3 minutes later, they stop and collapse to the ground.]

Herve: I feel we've gone a good thing here.
Piett; Dude, that's not Saw.
Herve: Makeup, dude. Didn't you see the movie.
Piett: No, this isn't Saw. [picks up Saw's head, detached from the body] See? Not Saw.
Herve: That's......who the hell is that??

[A neckerchief falls from the bloody and torn neck. Suddenly they hear sobbing from another part of the room. A part that was not focused on much in SAW, it seems.]

Voice: That was Fred!!
Piett: Who are you? What's going on??
Voice: It's ok, Daph, it's ok....
Voice: Like......like, dude....
Herve: Oh fuck me no. No. No. Please don't--

[Someone comes out of the darkness. To Herve's shame, it is indeed.....Shaggy from Scooby-Doo.]

Herve: Nooooooooo.
Piett: We're in the Saw bathroom with the cast of Scooby Doo. [pause] Wow, I had a dream about that once. Who the shit knew it'd actually come true?
Shaggy: Like, dude.....you killed Fred, man.
Herve: To be fair, he was face down in a puddle of his own blood. Or someone's blood.
Piett: And we've see SAW. That was Saw the whole time in the movie. [pause] Spoiler, sorry.
Herve: I don't think they care. Their friend is very dead and his widow is mourning.
Velma: She's not his widow. They weren't even dating.
Daphne: What....[sobs].....what are you talking about, Velma? I loved him.
Velma: That's just post-traumatic shock, Daph. He was gay.
Shaggy: Like....what, man?
Daphne: What??
Velma: The neckerchief, the constant weirdness when you two talked.
Shaggy: I thought that was the drugs, man. [pause] Not the neckerchief, though, that was totally gay.
Velma: If anything, he loved me. Not you.
Daphne: What?! Why you--

[Daphne punches Velma right in the face. Piett, Herve and Shaggy recoil in shock, then back off. The two fight. Not some stereotypical cat fight, no, this is a full fledged brawl. The bare knuckle punching kind. It's just bloody and awful. The three back away and Daphne and Velma disappear into the darkness, brutalizing each other with hard punches and all-out violence.]

Piett: So we're in a Saw scenario with Scooby Doo. [pause] Wait, where's Scooby Doo?
Shaggy: We ate him. [points to his skeleton]
Herve: SON OF A BITCH!! [pause]That makes it sound like I'm horrified, but only in the sense that it's a recently deceased thing lying there. I'm quite happy that Scooby Doo is dead.
Shaggy: Whatever, man.
Piett: Christ, how long have you been in here?
Shaggy: 20 minutes or so.
Piett: Wha--
Shaggy: We're obviously not good survivalists.
Herve: In this case, I'm thankful for that.

[Suddenly the lights flicker on. All cover their eyes. Piett is the....second to adjust to the sudden light....]

Voice: Lords of light!
Piett and Herve: Thundarr the Barbarian?!?

[Indeed, to their left is Thundarr the Barbarian. They geek out for a moment, then remember that his cartoon wasn't all that great and ignore him to look at what else is in the room. Herve gasps loudly.]

Herve: Dude, Saw is kidnapping old cartoon characters!
Piett: Looks that way. Normally I'd appreciate crossover madness, but this is.....a bit much. [pause] Like that movie we watched the other night....

=====

[Herve and Piett watch Adolf Hitler: Leprechaun Hunter. They are, again, dumbfounded. Beyond dumbfounded. In fact, you can actually see IQ points dying in their heads. I don't know how that's possible..............but Adolf Hitler: Leprechaun Hunter, people. It found a way. Anyway, Herve finally gets up angrily at about the 38 minute mark, removes a Nazi membership card from his wallet and tears it apart in a fit of rage. He sits back down and continues watching, as Piett is aghast at everything that is transpiring.]

Herve: So.....that old Planet of the Apes cartoon after this?
Piett: Are we glossing over the fact that YOU'RE A CARD CARRYING MEMBER OF THE NAZI PARTY HERE?!?!?!!!!

=====

Herve: Apparently we're doing the cutaway gag thing again.
Piett: Apparently.
Herve: I like it.
Piett: Dunno. Makes us seem lazy. Like Family Guy.
Herve: But we're funny at least. [pause] Sometimes. [pause] Like Family Guy. FUCK! Who the hell else is in here?
Piett [looking around]: That's Rainbow Brite. And Webigail from DuckTales. And a Snork. Oh god I feel so bad for them, they're going to die just.....so, SO horribly. And.....
Serpent Cobra Commander: I wassssss oncccccce a man!
Herve: Oh wow. It's Cobra Commander as a snake. Not even good Cobra Commander.
Piett: He got better though, in the cartoons after the animated movie.

=====

[Herve and Piett watch the post-animated movie GI JOE cartoon series.]

[There are tears. Many tears.]

=====

Herve: No. He did not. He, and everyone else, got much MUCH worse.
Piett: He sounded the same at least.
Herve: Not. Good. Enough.
Piett: And there's--well, there was Daphne and Velma. But they killed each other.
Herve: Damn. [to Shaggy] Um, sorry?
Shaggy: I'm kinda fine with it. They were enablers, when you think about it.
Herve: You sound way more coherent.
Shaggy: The Scooby snacks have worn off, I think. I make sense when I'm normal.
Piett: You also have a Puerto Rican accent.
Shaggy: Because I'm Puerto Rican.
Herve: Shit, the things you learn when Shaggy's not on the hashish.
Piett: And there.......oh my God.
Herve: What?!
Piett: It's Shinzon from Star Trek Nemesis. And he's in a head clamp trap! Oh, the humanity! He's doomed!
Herve: Star Trek Nemesis was not a cartoon. [looks closer] Dude, that's Bane.
Piett: Dark Knight Rises wasn't a cartoon either. What is this?!

[Bane says something. Piett understands him and nods in appreciation to the voice, but Herve, Shaggy and others don't have a clue what he's saying.]

Herve: How can you make a multi-million dollar summer blockbuster with a villain whose voice 80% of the audience can't understand?
Piett: I understood him perfectly.
Herve: So what'd he say?
Piett: You didn't like the voice. So screw.
Shaggy: What's happening here?
Herve: Confusing and topical humor that I think only Walsh gets.
Shaggy: Who?
Herve: Jesus Christ, why are we still conversing and consorting with Shaggy?!?

[Herve sees and grabs the ray gun from Piett's belt buckle, and he zaps Shaggy into oblivion. A dusty plume of pot smoke is all that remains of him.]

Piett: Where did---have I had my ray gun on me this whole time?!
Herve: You never part with the thing. It's kinda creepy, and I often wonder when you'll zap your junk off.
Piett: Fucking a, man! Gimme--!

[Piett grabs and starts shooting. He blasts the window where he's pretty sure the camera watching them is, he blasts the chains entrapping everyone, he blasts Serpent Cobra Commander to put him out of his goddamn misery, and he blasts the doors into smithereens. Everyone who's still alive runs out and flees for their lives down a corridor outside the room. Piett and Herve walk out into the hallway a bit, as the Snork runs past. It stops and turns back.]

Snork: Thank you, sirs, for saving our lives!
Piett: No problem, you adorable little sea demon.

[Suddenly a large object - possibly an anvil, possibly a piano - falls on and kills the Snork in a crushingly horrible manner.]

Piett and Herve: OHHHHHH!!!!!
Herve: Where did that come from?!
Piett: Dammit, I knew one of em would die horribly...
Herve: Wait a minute. Everyone escaped. Easily.
Piett: Except the Snork.
Herve: Except the Snork. So where's Saw? Where are the insanely cleverish deathtraps that are somewhat possible to escape from because they're designed to all along?

[The group that just fled suddenly runs back.]

Thundarr the Barbarian: Hey, I think I just saw Jodie Foster and some kid hiding around here.
Herve: Oh my God! We weren't kidnapped by Saw, we were transported into........The Panic Room!!!
Piett: Please tell me this isn't the resolution of this story.
Herve: No Saw, but Jodie Foster. Both a hideous trade-off and obscure movie reference.
Thundarr: No, I'm just kidding. We came back because--
Piett: I have a ray gun and will kill you.
Herve: No big dumb Mok to save you here.
Thundarr: Demon dogs!
Herve: None of them either.
Thundarr: I yelled that in an exclamatory manner! "Demon dogs" as in "holy shit, LOOK!!"

[Herve turns, and sure enough there is a man in a black cloak running at them with an active chainsaw. Instinctively, they turn and run.]

Herve: I'm impressed you even know the word exclamatory and used it rather accurately. Piett: Fuck that, Herve! That's Saw! Herve: That can't be Saw! That's not his motif! Rainbow Brite: Guys, isn't he called the Jigsaw Killer and not Saw?! Herve: SHUT UP RAINBOW BRITE!! Piett: Quick! Thundarr! Rainbow Brite! Small duck girl! Live-action Bane! Follow me!!

[The group of animated characters run down a series of dark sinisterish corridors. Webigail from DuckTales, though, isn't fast enough and her webbed duck legs fail her. Saw hacks her in half with his chainsaw.]

Piett: Oh no!! I called that death too!
Herve: Don't turn back, keep going!!
Piett: How are you outrunning me?! You're a midget!
Herve: Like Adolf Hitler: Leprechaun Hunter found a way to defy explanation, so did I!
Piett: Still need an explanation for the Nazi membership!
Herve: Not now, I think there's a way out up there! Look!!

[Herve points to a door. The group barges through it at full running speed.]

¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø

[Piett wakes up from a dizzy spell. His eyes are glossed over and his arms seem weak, but otherwise he senses he is in alright condition.]

Piett: Oh, my head..... [lifts his arms to hold his head] Wait, why are my arms so flimsy.......and why is my skin so felty......OH FUCK ME GOD NO!!!! NOOO!!!!!!
Herve: Piett! Piett!!!!

[Pause of horror.]

Piett and Herve: WE'RE MUPPETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[They flail their arms.]

*to be continued...........

..............NOW!!!*

Joe Q: Public: NgaaaahgaaaahhgaAAAHHHHHGGGHHHHH!!!!!!

[When last we left our hapless heroes.....]

Piett and Herve: WE'RE MUPPETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[They flail their arms.]

¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø

[Presently........]

Piett: Well, that was horrible.
Herve: Agreed.

[Cosmos and Chronos emerge from nowhere.]

Cosmos: Guys, we're here!! It's ok!
Herve: Wha?
Chronos: When you screamed "WE'RE MUPPETS!!!!!!!!!!!!!" a series of alarms in the mansion went off.
Piett: Alarms?
Cosmos: Yes. We had them installed when Jim Henson died and yet they still kept making Muppet movies and TV shows.
Chronos: The cosmic balance needs to be kept in line, and that wrong-sounding shit fucks up so much of what keeps the universe together.
Piett: We're just learning of this now??
Cosmos: Enough of you have died fighting this menace.
Herve: What does that mean?
Cosmos: We'll be honest, you're not the first quantum agents we've had in our employ.
Piett: I've always suspected as much.
Herve: Wait, we get paid?
Chronos: We had 18 before you.
Herve: Wow.
Cosmos: All of them died fighting Pepe the Prawn.
Piett: Fucking hell!
Chronos: Most of them were suicides.
Herve: Stop already, just stop!!
Cosmos: So.........wait, you're not Muppets.
Piett: No. We got better.
Chronos: Got better?!
Piett: Yeah.
Herve: Surprisingly easy, really.
Cosmos: Care to explain?
Herve: I prefer this one remain a fiendish secret that falls by the wayside.
Piett: Sad that Thundarr and Rainbow Brite couldn't live to see the quick reversal of fortunes take place. [to Chronos] Suicides.
Chronos: Toldja.
Piett: We do manage this theater now, though.
Cosmos: What the--?!

[Cosmos and Chronos realize they are in fact in the old Muppet Show theater.]

Chronos: NGAHHH!!!!
Cosmos: Fuck, Chronos, you know what this means!! RUN!!!

[Before Piett and Herve can comprehend this outburst, Cosmos and Chronos disappear back into nowhere.]

Piett: Well. That was rude.
Herve: And ominous.
Piett: What does this mean?
Herve: Nothing bad, I would think. This theatre is pretty kickass.
Piett: "Theatre?" Are we bouncing back and forth with the spellings?
Herve: I'm never going to get over how you can critique the narration and dialogue as written language. Has Walsh ever explained how we can do that?
Piett: No.
Herve: Will he?
Piett: No.
Herve: Fair enough.

[Pause]

Herve: Are we *really* gonna run this theatre.....I mean, theater?
Piett [rubs hands together]: Into the ground, yes.
Herve: Oh good. I was afraid there for a few seconds.

===

[Rome. The Vatican. Beneath the buildings where Muslims are complained about, where the Bible keeps getting rewritten to exclude all the references to gays and Jesus' wife, and where child molesters seek refuge for their diddling ways, a most important official and his 2 guests descend down a series of ancient steps into the catacombs of the religious complex.]

Chronos: I always found it funny that the Vatican has crypts like this so much closer to Hell than to Heaven. You'd think they'd have their old texts and libraries in towering spires reaching upwards to the clouds.
Cosmos: Even the Church has to job to aviation regulations. Are we there yet, Hook? Supreme Pontiff Hook: I can't believe you're making me do this. And on the day when we finally decide to excommunicate most of America. I've really been looking forward to that beer party.
Cosmos: You always knew that as part of you becoming Supreme Pontiff of the Holy Catholic Church, we'd require access to the vaults for the utmost of urgencies.
Supreme Pontiff Hook: Somehow I doubt this is utmost of anything. It wasn't the last time.
Chronos: Dude, I was totally serious when I thought the Book of Job really did contain satanic verses.
Cosmos: And then you remembered that you mistook The Book of Job for Salman Rushdie's book The Satanic Verses. No amount of stupidity eludes you. Ever.
Supreme Pontiff Hook: Seems a bit harsh, Cosmos.

[They arrive at the vault, behind whose doors lies all the knowledge, dogmas and texts of the Catholic Church. 2 cloaked individuals, sitting at the doors of the vault, stand and confront the supreme pontiff and his colleagues.]

Keymaster: I am the Keymaster.
Gatekeeper: I am the Gatekeeper.
Supreme Pontiff Hook: Shut up, Rick Moranis and Sigourney Weaver, and let us in.

[The 2 beings step aside and the doors open on their own. Hook and the others enter, as the doors close behind them.]

Cosmos: Was that really Rick Moranis and Sigourney Weaver you verbally intimidated?
Supreme Pontiff Hook: No. That was the password.
Chronos: What, no hellhounds guarding the gates?
Supreme Pontiff Hook: I apologize. You were fundamentally correct in your assessment of this half-ass.
Chronos: Hey!
Cosmos: Thank you.
Chronos: Fine then. No.....chihuahuas?
Supreme Pontiff Hook: We did. But then we lost a bet with that bitch Paris Hilton and she took it to live in her purse.
Chronos [slightly dejected, to Cosmos]: But that was a dumber statement than the hellhounds...
Cosmos: It's not dumb when it's actually right.
Supreme Pontiff Hook: Here we are.

[Supreme Pontiff Hook extended his arm and hook hand, and both Cosmos and Chronos stand in awe at the Vatican library. Instead of an old and vast collection of religious scripts, instead they gaze at a ridiculously futuristic library, with digital texts and holographic data arrays of information as far as the eye can see.]

Chronos: Dude, this technology is amazing.
Cosmos: You did not have this the last time we were here. I was expecting dusty shelves filled to the brim with dusty old tomes and parchments.
Supreme Pontiff Hook: Steve Jobs' death had some.....unexpected consequences.
Chronos: You killed Steve Jobs.
Supreme Pontiff Hook: We killed Steve Jobs. Yes.
Chronos: All for.....this?
Supreme Pontiff Hook: Well, it was part of a bet we lost with Microsoft, but this was all a shocking sidenote. [looks up] We like to think he really approved of it. Chronos: Is he talking to God, or Steve Jobs?
Cosmos: I.....I don't know.
Chronos: Dark.
Cosmos: I don't think you know how to use that word in these kinds of situations.
Chronos: But I thought you had mounds of money, in no part thanks to closing churches in America.
Cosmos: Ah. Topical humor. Grand.
Supreme Pontiff Hook: No. We spend that money to hide the child molesters.
Cosmos: Of course you do, you bastards.
Supreme Pontiff Hook: Now will you *finally* tell me what's going on with this entire excursion to the Steve Jobs Memorial Holy Catacombs of Catholic, Christian and Other White Anglo-Saxon Religions.

[Pause]

Supreme Pontiff Hook: Hey, blame Jobs for that one. It was enscribed on the gates when this place upgraded itself.
Cosmos: We're looking for....a prophecy.
Supreme Pontiff Hook: A modern prophecy?
Cosmos: Possibly.
Supreme Pontiff Hook: Well, I'll need it to Dewey Decimal system.
Chronos: Dewey Decimal......really? I was so expecting something like the....Jobsy Integer system.

[Cosmos and Hook stare at him in wonder.]

Supreme Pontiff Hook: Did the other Chronos die and get replaced with a smarter one?
Cosmos: I was actually going to comment that it wasn't *that* smart. Though I can't believe the word "integer" correctly existed within his brain for a moment there.
Chronos: Stop doing that! I master time, so I'm clearly.....somewhat brightish.
Supreme Pontiff Hook: So what prophecy is it?
Cosmos: It's a prophecy that involves a theater.
Chronos: Theatre.
Cosmos: Whatever. And Piett and Herve. And........possibly Muppets.
Supreme Pontiff Hook: Oh, it's a Muppet thing. Yeah, that'll be a problem.
Chronos: What for huh?
Supreme Pontiff Hook: Computer virus knocked out the nightmare wing a few weeks ago.
Chronos: Comput--? Wait a minute, Steve Jobs didn't build all this in his death.
Supreme Pontiff Hook: What?
Cosmos: A computer virus and Steve Jobs are about as compatible as Internet Explorer and competent web surfing. Or Sarah Palin and coherency. Or Mormon leader John Smith and South Park.
Chronos: Actually I've been meaning to take you to Broadway for a while, you'd be surprised to learn they--
Cosmos: This is no time to arrange a date, Chronos, we must know the nature of this perplexing conundrum!
Supreme Pontiff Hook: And this silly prophecy.
Cosmos: Silence, man! Priorities! Now, let us solve this mystery!!

[Many many, MANY hours later.]

Supreme Pontiff Hook: So this wasn't Steve Jobs' doing, it was George Lucas'. [facepalms] Terrific. Well, might as well tear the shit out of this place and burn it down. It'll be something we all deeply hate and feel ashamed of in about 5-10 years.
Chronos: You're too modest, I give it 2-3 months. [pause] And even then, it'll still be here for decades to come and you'll be using and throwing money at it as devotedly as ever.
Supreme Pontiff Hook: Jesus dammit Christ on a crutch. [to himself] Wait, so did we kill Steve Jobs just for Bill Gates' pleasure? Shit.
Cosmos: You're really bad at your job, aren't you?
Supreme Pontiff Hook: No worse than Jim Pius the LXth or whoever preceded me.
Chronos: And you call *me* an idiot.
Cosmos: We call you worse, but...point taken.
Supreme Pontiff Hook: Now can we get to this prophecy about Piett, Herve and the Muppets?
Cosmos: There is no prophecy about Piett and Herve in the Muppets theatre.
Supreme Pontiff Hook: WHAT?!?
Cosmos: I remembered it about a day and a half ago or whenever.....I was certain there was a prophecy, but seems I was a bit off. Probably dreamt it or something.
Supreme Pontiff Hook: And YOU didn't remember this either?!
Chronos: Derr, I'm an idjit I is. DERR. [pause] That's what you get, dick.
Supreme Pontiff Hook: Are you telling me we're wasted all this time down here when I could've been upstairs excommunicating whole nations of people and kegging my ass off afterwards!!
Chronos: Not really. Outside this catacomb, only a minute and a half of time has passed.
Supreme Pontiff Hook: Really, how?!
Chronos: I master time, dingus, remember?
Supreme Pontiff Hook: The fuck if I care!!! Let's go!

[Supreme Pontiff Hook runs out of the room. Cosmos walks slowly, perterbed at his shoddy memory as Chronos pats him on the back.]

Cosmos: But I swear there was a prophecy about chaos in a theatre or something.
Chronos: Dude, if this was an Aurora, Colorado reference gone horribly wrong, then I'm gonna punch your eye socket.

[Cosmos points and stares, and Chronos looks out over the . A glance at his time wrist device - which I'd like to pretend he's had for all these 175+ stories - reveals it is now the year 987,531,901. And dinosaurs reign over the Earth. Again.]

Chronos: Oh shitfuck, I done screwed up the timey wimey crap again. [picks up a rock] Well, let's get to smiting these retro-pre-historic beasts...
Supreme Pontiff Hook: Should we tell him they're Dino-Riders, being ridden by Biker Mice from Mars?
Cosmos: Nah. They'll all die either way.

===

[Some time later. Piett and Herve sit in the theatre/theater. Around them are charred remains, smoke, an exposed ceiling and a lot of dead Muppets.]

Herve: I feel good.
Piett: What, that the narrative of this story focused away from us so we didn't have to go into any intricate plot movements?
Herve: No, that we just murdered all the Muppets ever. Even Fraggle Rock. Fucking Morlocks....
Piett: Now, now....the audience can only deal with so many witty references...
Herve: Witty?! Did you SEE what I did to Snuffleupagus?!? I killed him worse than Gordon and Bob killed Mr. Hooper!
Piett: A heart attack killed Mr. Hooper.
Herve: Given to him by Gordon and Bob.

[Pause]

Piett: Did.......did he see them having sex?
Herve: You are an uncouthed individual, sir, with no knowledge of Sesame Street and other finer things of life, and I wish to sue you because of it.
Piett: You coulda just said "dark, dude...."
Herve: Is that the proper usage in this instance? I have a hard time telling most times.
Piett: Oh yeah. VERY proper with that one.

[Pause. They look around. The story is going nowhere. So it's probably over.]

Herve: W-what do we do now?
Piett: I dunno. This seems like an extended ending. Rather unlike Walsh.
Herve: And with no purpose. [pause] Though that's *very much* like Walsh.
Piett: We can sit and ramble about weird things.
Herve [looks around]: Eh. Might as well. I'm enjoying the dead Muppet ambiance in here.
Piett: *And* their corpses don't stink as time goes on.
Herve: Oh no. The Muppets definitely stink. Though maybe in a different way.
Piett: Shut up and go get some beers in the back.

[Several minutes pass. Surprisingly, much like this story, a lot takes place as the time has passed suddenly for you, the unfortunate reader. But then, maybe you appreciate that because it means less shitty plotting and dialogue. To which I said, "up yours."]

Herve [drinking a beer which he has opened with the eye socket of Floyd Peppers]: I'm telling you, the woman who repainted and destroyed that Jesus portrait in Spain was a *much* worse foe for us than Nathaniel Hawthorne.
Piett [drinking from the felt-manufactured skull of Sherlock Hemlock]: I agree, but I just thought the matador bodyguards made the adventure more stereotypically racist than it really needed to be.
Herve: Speaking of dead writers, why haven't we ever done an adventure with Edgar Allen Poe? That coulda been creepy.
Piett: Dude, his life pretty much ended with suicide or something. No need to refine the reasoning behind it. He suffered enough, I think.
Herve: Dude, but what if WE were the reason he died?
Piett: Ooh. [pause] Nah. I doubt it'd fill much of a cutaway. Not worth it unless we really needed something to do.

[Pause]

Piett: Wait a minute, what happened to live action Bane?
Herve: Something awesome but muffled and hard to hear, I take it. Either way, that's a cutaway I'd be interested to read.

*fin*

Herve: No? Well. Ok then.

Oppa Herve Style

[Space/Time Continuum. In the lounge, Herve is falling all over the place. He may be drunk. Or perhaps too much of the Honey Boo Boo on the television. Who really wants to know? Piett walks by with a backpack, but stops and turns back to look at his friend's puzzling situation.]

Piett: Are.....are you trying to do the Gangnam Style dance?
Herve: I cannot do it. I know it's one hop, one hop, two hops, and alternating between "horse riding" and "looking at your watch doing the Arsenio Hall fist pump" but.....well, short legs don't help me be cool here. Wanna try?
Piett: I cannot admit to knowing how to do that dance. [shifts awkwardly in place] Besides, I gotta go.
Herve: Where to?
Piett: Eh, lost a bet and gotta fill in for someone in another fictional universe.
Herve: Replacement refs again?
Piett: Seriously, they're hiring bankers and middle school janitors to referee pro football games. Is this shit still going on? Where does the madness stop?!
Herve: Figuring *that* out is what we do for a living, man. And thus the employment is neverending. [pause] Plus I thought that replacement ref thing was only like a 3 week ordeal, didn't think it was still going on...
Piett: Anyway, I'll gone for a bit.
Herve: Wait, but what if they're an adventure while you're gone?
Piett: Been hella slow of late, I doubt anything will come up in the.........what, 10 seconds I'm actually gone?
Herve: Because we can travel in and thus slightly manipulate our passage thru time.
Piett: Yes, Captain Obvious, because we can travel in and thus slightly manipulate our passage thru time.
Herve: Ok. So what if it happens 5 seconds after you leave?!

[Piett goes to answer, but then sighs and just portals away.]

Herve: Balls. Well, let's see if these 10 sec--

[Suddenly Cadmus, the aide to Cosmos and Chronos who doesn't appear in these stories as much as you might think he would since he lives in the mansion too, darts in and activates a portal.]

Cadmus: Oh my goodness there's an adventure and Piett's away and this is my time to finallydosomethingcomeonlet'sGOOOOOO!!!!
Herve: NggaAAAHHHHH!!!!

[Cadmus tackles Herve directly into the portal.]

WHEN SUDDENLY, IN NORTH KOREA!!

[A portal opens in a darkened alleyway in Pyongyang, North Korea. Herve and Cadmus land on the ground. However, while Herve is used to this kind of emergence from the continuum, Cadmus is obviously not, as he breaks his ankle upon hitting the pavement.]

Cadmus: AW FUCK!!!!!
Herve: Holy crap, did that just happen?!
Cadmus: I'm crippled! So much for me!
Herve: You ass! I was doing the Gangnam Style dance in a comfortable rumpus room, and now I'm in a dank dirty alley in....[smells]....North Korea?! Shitfuck!
Cadmus: I think I just pooed myself too!
Herve: Arghh!!!
Cadmus: Kidding. But yeah, ankle is definitely broken. [grabs his ankle, which is about the size of a tennis ball now] I'm in a very limited capacity now. But I think we can hide here and use this as a homebase.
Herve: Homebase?! Amongst the trash and damp poorly-made pavement?!
Cadmus: But I came prepared.

[Cadmus takes off his backpack, and from it emerges an incredible array of futuristic technology. Suddenly a small yet extensive network of holographic computers and viewscreens surround Cadmus, and he's become a human computer.]

Herve: Crapola. This is an improvement. [looks at his foot] Um, is that right?

[Cadmus' ankle has suddenly enlarged to the size of a basketball.]

Cadmus: I have some ointment, I'll be fine.
Herve: Ointment. Right. Wow.
Cadmus: Now let me bring up the mission details.

[Holographic images revolve all around both of them. Images of nefarious ne'er-do-wells and location maps illuminate the alley.]

Herve: Hrm. This all seems much too formal and awesome to be one of our adventures.
Cadmus: This is Rodrigo Altavista. He and his internet business cohorts - Linus Commodore LXIV, Shaniqua HotBot, Jeeves Aask, Armando Geocities and Fabian Tripod-Lycos - have created an evil internet conglomerate here in North Korea, hidden from the prying eyes of the rest of the world, and are launching systematic attacks on the world of online social media. Yesterday, they sent out a party invitation on Facebook, Twitter, Google Plus, MySpace, Bing, LinkedIn, Yelp and countless other sites, and about 1200 people showed up, only to realize they were driving into a canyon in Arizona. They are all dead. Hours later, they posted ain a viral video on YouTube and Google and Tout and Yelp, which upon viewing vacated the minds of the viewers, controlled them to spread the video amongst other sites and then leaves them a mindless husk when the task is complete. A total of 650 people were found catatonic and brain dead. And then there are the increased of lethal Facebook pokes--
Herve: Shit, never mind. I take it back. This is totally at our low level of adventurous dung.
Cadmus: Well.....good?
Herve: I guess. And why the fuck does Yelp keep coming up??
Cadmus: I was under the impression this is one of those social media sites everyone uses.
Herve: It's a fucking retailer/restaurant review site I've, like, only seen on Google Maps when I'm looking for a good comic book store.
Cadmus: Perhaps it's the key to this whole mystery?
Herve: I doubt it'd be as straightforward as that.

[Writer's note: it is, in fact, as straightforward as that.]

Cadmus: Did you hear something? Herve: Narration from Walsh. [shakes Cadmus' hand] Count your blessings that you're apparently immune from all that.
Cadmus: Well, you won't have to search long for their headquarters. It's over there.

[Cadmus, whose leg is now ballooned to the size of an industrial air conditioner, points to a concrete complex across the end of the alley.]

Herve: I don't know if that building has any significance in North Korea. Is this, like, their Jefferson Monument? Or Food and Drug Administration Building?

[Cadmus and Herve share a good laugh at the idea of North Korea giving a shit enough about its people to even bother having a food and drug administration.]

Cadmus: Does it really matter?
Herve: No. Well, I'm off. Have that foot/leg looked at.
Cadmus: The ointment will do just fine, sir! Walgreens never fails me!

[Herve runs across the street, ducking, diving and rolling with unnecessary abandon. He arrives at the front door and judo kicks it down. A signal goes off, and several security . Inspired by Liam Neeson and TAKEN, TAKEN 2: TAKENER and TAKEN 3: THE SEARCH FOR SPOCK, Herve proceeds to fucking murder ever last motherfucker he goddamn sees. Everyone featured for the next 95 minutes dies horribly, because that's how TAKEN fucking goes. Finally, he arrives at the doors to the penthouse on the top floor, and sends a defeated security guard careening through it to his death. He strides in confidently, as the hapless foes of this tale recoil in horror at the ferocity of their reveal.]

Linus Commodore LXIV: Dear lord, no!
Fabian Tripod-Lycos: Guards! Guards!!
Shaniqua HotBot: They're dead! All dead!
Jeeves Aask: We're doomed!
Armando Geocities: He told us this one would kill us horribly!
Herve: I'm just now understanding the lameocity of your names. So your deaths shall be.......[cracks knuckles].......deservingly horrifying.

[What transpires over the next several minutes is the complete assassination of 5 fictional characters.]

[Yeah. It's not pretty. So let's cut away for a few moments and expand on that thing from the last story where Piett and Herve could've been the reason Edgar Allan Poe died.]

¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø

[October 3, 1849. The streets of Baltimore, Maryland, USA, Earth. 2 men are standing over a 3rd who is kinda lying in the gutter.]

Piett: Dude, we gave him alcohol, cholera, rabies, syphilis, influenza, hypoglycemia, diabetes, a brain tumor, enzyme deficiency, a dose of laudanum, and even meningeal inflammation, if it's even possible to get that in a syringe, and the motherfucker is still not dead yet!!
Herve: Why are we even doing this?! What's he done other than be creepily awesome with his sinister short stories?! [looks around] And do we even know what the context of his death is gonna be for history's sake?
Piett: Screw that, we'll just go find the medical records and documents regarding his death and make their disappear, so that no one ever knows and it's a bizarre mystery. Now what else can we do?!
Herve: I don't know! What else do we have?!
Piett: We have a bus.
Herve: How did we end up with a bus in 1849?!
Piett: Can we hit him with a bus?
Herve: Wikipedia doesn't say that was a possible cause of death.
Piett: Oh.

[They sit down on the curb. Suddenly their eyes widen and they stand up and yell in unison.]

Piett and Herve: Then edit Wikipedia so that it says it's a cause of his death!!!
Joseph W. Walker: Who's there? What's going on? Is that Edgar Allan Poe delirious in the street? Holy shit am I totally gonna find this out and become famous for about 4 minutes for it?!
Piett: Oh shit! Run!!

[A portal opens and zips them away.]

¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø

Jeeves Aask: Please, God, not my facEAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!

[Ok, we just returned to a man having his face pulled right off of him. Let's take another time out and do another cutaway thing. Um........Piett and Herve meet Al Gore?]

¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø

Al Gore: Please, God, not my facEAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!

¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø

[Holy shit, did we just go from a man having his face pulled right off of him to a cutaway featuring ANOTHER man having his face pulled right off him?! Forget it, back to the main story.]

Herve: Well, that was productive. I always like to think I help clean the gene pool when I murder--

[Suddenly an unforeseen individual grabs Herve from behind and throws his face first through the window, and several floors to the pavement below. Several people in the street stop and look. If they had cellphones or modern photography in North Korea, they'd be snapping cell phone pics of the scene. Or calling their friends to leave their hovels and also come look and gawk at the hideous death that has just occurred in the center of Pyongyang. But then, there is a collective gasp in those gathered, as Herve gets up from the createrous hole in the ground and dust himself off.

Herve: TAKEN, motherfuc--

[The butt of a gun cracks him in the face and he falls to the ground. The North Korean soldier holding it summons his 200 other comrades over to surround the fallen quantum agent. From the front door of the headquarters, Rodrigo Altavista saunters out laughing and applauding.]

North Korean soldier 1: Is he applauding us and also laughing at us? We only did what he said to do.
North Korean soldier 2: By whatever being in our beloved central government that created all life that is known, don't speak!

Rodrigo Altavista: Haha, Mr. Villechaize! You had a good run annihilating my organization, but your time is up, my friend!

[Pause]

Rodrigo Altavista: Oh yes. He's unconscious. Someone.....someone pick him up and revive him.

[The 2 North Korean soldiers lift him up with considerable ease and to his feet. Suddenly, Herve jams his fist and arm down the mouth of one and tears apart the neck of the other. They fall dead, and prepares to fight the other 198. But then suddenly, a mist forms between Rodrigo Altavista and Herve. A most.....familiar one, that looks unlike cloudy smoke and more like 0's and 1's and hashtags and brackets.]

Herve: Oh what the--?!
Webmaster: Huzzah!!
Herve: Webmaster?!
Webmaster: Herve, my chum! Goodness, I cannot believe what's happened here! Let me help you, I'll try and get you free from all this!
Herve: That routine didn't work for Count Dooku in Episode 2, and it's not wor--

[The Webmaster violently kicks Herve in the face as if it were Lucy Van Pelt and he was Charlie Brown taking his aggression out on that blue-dressed football-teasing harlot.]

Webmaster: NEVER QUOTE A PREQUEL AROUND ME! [slaps Herve for good measure] ESPECIALLY Attack of the Clones!
Herve: Aw fuck, man. Was that necessary?!
Webmaster: Sorry. [pause] Wait, not sorry. I'm evil now, so I'm not apologizing.
Herve: So this whole mad insane plot was yours?
Webmaster: It's an internet scheme! I'm named the Webmaster! HOW COULD IT NOT HAVE BEEN ME?!?!
Herve: Um, easily? Everybody's on the internet these days. Coulda been anyone. But seriously, you're evil now? [pause] Again? Dude, you were my City of Heroes partner!
Webmaster: City of Heroes is DEAD and now so is my foolish dalliance with the heroic world of heroes! DEAD!!! And soon, dear Villechaize, you'll be dead too!
Herve: DEAD! [snorts] Sorry, got carried away. Wait, this is rather out of nowhere. I feel like Walsh came up with this series of events without any sort of continuity.
Webmaster: Perhaps you'd be convinced when you learn my real name....Gepetto Yelp!
Herve: Gepetto.....Yelp......holy shit it did kinda end up being as straightforward as he said it would. Stupid, but straightforward. And all these guys with the website and computer-related last names?
Webmaster: I'm using the insidious power and reach of social media to destroy the world! They cannot know that someone of modern relevance is behind this! That is why I employed the aid of these former online moguls [stands amongst their dead bodies pointing at them coldly] to serve as my cover!
Herve: You forgot about Rodrigo Altavista.
Webmaster: Oh him. Yeah, he......he just ran away. Supporting character logic indicates at least one of them had to live for another day.
Herve: So you're saying, because you're not the supporting character who ran away, that you're gonna die before this story is through.
Webmaster: No. I.....I didn't say that.
Herve: Totally did, dude. You're dead. DEAD!
Webmaster: Stop yelling that back at me, I'll be fine!!
Herve: DEAD, man, DEAD!!
Webmaster: Just shut up and let me explain my nefarious plan!
North Korea soldier 1: Is this going anywhere? [pause] And aren't we dead?
North Korean soldier 2: No. We're 2 other soldiers. There are a lot of us, and we're not important enough to be named.

[The Webmaster blasts the 2 soldiers with a ray of green energy, and the men howl as they are converted into HTML, CSS, JavaScript and binary code and evaporate in the air.]

Webmaster: I'm not paying you people to talk! [pause] Then again, I'm evil and so I don't really have to pay you anything. Sorry! [pause] Dammit, I'm evil and don't have to apologize for anything ever!
Herve: Yeah, this is gonna go easily.
Webmaster: What?!
Herve: I said, alright then, fine. Explain your mad scheme and then let me get back to killing all of you.
Webmaster: Well.....I know I shouldn't stereotypically explain my plot to my adversary, who could rather easily gain the upper hand again and undo my mad scheme... [pause] ...but I need to buck the trend here and prove that I'm not going to die here. So behold my newest creation!

[He presses a button on his handheld device, and the headquarters behind them begins to collapse and break apart, as from beneath it a giant turbine device emerges.]

Webmaster: Behold.........the Search Engineator!
Herve: Watching Phineas and Ferb these days?
Webmaster: Dude, even though it's basically the same exact plot over and over again, I find it intoxicatingly cute and enjoyable. [pause] BUT NEVER MIND THAT!!! This is the Search Enginea......no, just the Search Engine! With its immense power, it will seek out and destroy every vital piece of information in the world!

[Pause]

Herve: That's it?
Webmaster: Of course it is. Pretty nefarious, right?
Herve: A lotta hoop-la for something that a simple computer virus coulda done.
Webmaster: I'm evil. We're over the top like that sometimes.
Herve: Well, I've distracted you enough. Now the end has come.
Webmaster: Dammit, I knew it! [pause] Wait. No. No, it hasn't. I won't allow it [pause] Ok, now I'm curious how exactly will this happen...

[Herve just points. And across the street, a behemoth object bursts forth from an alley. It is Cadmus - whose ENTIRE BODY is now the size of a Cobra Terrordrome (if you don't get that reference, then shame on you), who lets out an inhuman scream. His globose humanoid mass is contorted and seems to have fused with the futuristic technology he was using earlier, and his body is now consuming the buildings and military equipment and even people all around him. The Webmaster shrieks like a girl and flees, as his North Korean military cohorts attempt to combat but are ultimately consumed by Cadmus' bulbous mass. The Webmaster runs to his Search Engine stops being a cowardly villain type, turns and lets out a rapid array of green energy rays. But Cadmus is utterly unfazed, and within moments he consumes Webmaster in his many large heavy flabs in Cadmus' body. As the Search Engine is torn asunder and its shattered remains engrossed, and struggles in futile effort to prevent them from crushing him.]

Webmaster: No!!! Cannot.......die......recurring.....suppor.....char.....EEEAAAAAAARRRBBBLLLLLLH!!!!!!1111111010001010101

[The Webmaster - real name Gepetto Yelp, apparently, and former supporting character of both good and evil in these particular tales - is painfully crushed to death, and his body explodes in a sickening burst of blood and bones and brain matter.]

Herve: Gross!
Cadmus: HELP! This has turned into a very bizarre and hideous Akira reference!! And I'm pretty sure that's a Japanese thing, not a Korean thing!!! Do something!!!

[Herve, realizing that if nothing is done he too shall die, clears his throat and straightens himself up.]

Herve: Ok then. Only one thing left to do. God help us, I hope I get this right.

[He clears throat. Repeatedly. As if he's stalling. Or anxious. Dammit, just get on with it, man.]

Herve: Oppa Gangnam Style.

[Suddenly he starts horse riding in place, and a group of Korean dancers and everyone else left around him joins in.]

Cadmus: .......how is this helping?!?
Herve: It's distracting people from your horror!
Cadmus: But I'm destroying North Korea!!
Herve: And I'm certain South Korea appreciates it!

[Suddenly a series of military forces begin crossing the Demilitrarized Zone, as more North Koreans begin joining in on the infectious silly internet memedance. One in particular, surrounded by very important looking military types, thrust pumps by. He high fives Herve (or rather, low fives - because Herve is short) and horse trots on.]

Cadmus: Hey, was that Psy?! Nice cameo.
Herve: No, he'd cost too much. That was....[looks back at him]....huh.

===========

[Some time later in the Space/Time Continuum.........or maybe like 5 seconds later. Time travel: it's a mindfuck.]

Cadmus: So North Korea gave up when Kim Jong Un started Gangnam Styling?
Herve [perturbed]: Yeah.
Cadmus: The power of Gangnam Style actually toppled the Communist regime, thusly eliminating the military support for the Webmaster's social media threat, as well as calmed everyone after the whole chaos of North Korea being destroyed by a rampaging me thing?
Herve [perturbed]: Yup.
Cadmus: And there's now peace on the Korean peninsula. [pause] Because of us.
Herve [perturbed]: Uh-huh.
Cadmus: Alright, what is so perturbing you??
Herve: Most of you is gone, dude.
Cadmus: Well, that's what happens when you become the big giant mass of whatever from the end of Akira. Apparently the ointment just made things worse. Good call. Anyway, thankfully Cosmos and Chronos saved my brain.
Herve: But it's your head. [pause] And part of your neck. [pause] Fully animated as if you were just a guy with his head in a jar. Sense, this makes not.
Cadmus: Actually, I'm a robot.

[Suddenly Cadmus - who has just been a head in a jar on a table next to Herve's lounger - rises, and a simple robotic body upon whose shoulders the head jar is mounted is revealed to Herve's considerable shock.]

Herve: BWAHRGH!!!!!! [falls off couch]

Herve: Why couldn't they have given you a more normal humanoid robot body? Like a Disney animatronic, or even that big thing Krang used in TMNT?
Chronos: [peaks into room] We.........we were just really incredibly lazy. [leaves]
Cadmus: Hey. I think it looks cool.
Herve: Hey. I know it looks dumb as fuck. Good luck dorking off with that.
Cadmus: I don't have a penis.

[Pause]

Cadmus [sobbing]: Fuck you, man.
Herve: Ha. [looks around] Wait a minute, shouldn't Piett be back by now? Where the hell *did* he go?

¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø

[Meanwhile, in Danville, somewhere in the Tri-State area...Piett is chillaxing under a tree with a very angular child, who jumps up suddenly.]

Piett: Gahh!!
Phineas: Firmus, I know what we're gonna do today!
Piett: Kill Doofenschmirtz? No, wait, I killed him already. Never mind. Oh, how about......we cure cancer?
Phineas: What?
Piett: Cure cancer. Do it.
Phineas: Um.......I don't think we can do that in just one day. Or 104.
Piett: Oh. Ok. Then I don't give a shit.
Phineas: Al........right then. [awkward looks to change the subject] Hey, where's Perry?
Piett: I killed him. He's dead.
Phineas: You're really no fun, Firmus.
Piett: Hey, as long as Ferb is getting his teeth fixed because he's British, you're just gonna have to deal with me and like it.

*fin*

Disney/LucasFilm/Quantum Piett

Herve: HOLY FLURF!!!!
Piett: NGAHHHHRRHHAAAAAHHHHRRRGHHHH!!!!!

[Piett falls off his lounger as Herve jumps up looking at his iPhone.]

Piett: Don't DO THAT!!!
Herve: Dude! Haven't you heard?!
Piett: I heard my soul just die a thousand painful deaths!!
Herve: Disney bought LucasFilm!!!!
Piett: WHAT?!?!
Herve: Disney bought LucasFilm!!!!
Piett: WHAT?!?!
Herve: Disney bought--
Piett: I FUCKING HEARD YOU!!!!!
Herve: WHY ARE YOU TELLING LIKE THAT?!?
Piett: I DON'T KNOW! WHY ARE YOU?!?!
Herve: AHHHHHHH!!!!!
Piett: AHHHHHHH!!!!!
Herve: AHHHHHHH!!!!!

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Counselor Troi: This has been happening a lot today. Recorded instances all over the world are detailing how people are littering the internet with profane postings of confused opinion and simultaneous delight.....people in the business world being rendered catatonic at the thought of the largest entertainment deal of our time.....all-around critics almost literally crushed by the angst of their hatred for the prequels and love of the possibilities of this creative endeavor. The conflict at work here is extraordinary. This one thing has affected so many people, so many lives, and so many fragile psyches. This may go down as one of the most fascinating psychological moments in human history.

[Pause]

Piett: I'm sorry. I'm only just now realizing that our therapist's name is Counselor Troi.
Herve: I'm just realizing we've been attending therapy. More than once, it seems. [pause] This should explain things, but it only makes me question MORE things.
Piett: Why are you lying on this sofa with me?
Herve: I'm so alone.

[Piett gets up, forcing Herve to the floor in a thump.]

Piett: So what do we do?
Counselor Troi: What do you mean?
Piett: How do we live with this? What does this mean for the rest of our lives?
Counselor Troi: Um.....you deal with it?
Piett: Really? That's your professional opinion?
Counselor Troi: You just showed up and started talking about how this Disney/LucasFilm business-entertainment deal is for whatever reason driving you bonkers, and you murdered everyone in my waiting room in order to get in here first. To be fair, I did the only sensible thing in letting you ramble and allow me to make some semblance of sense to it.

[Pause]

Piett: Wow. This has really fucked me up.
Counselor Troi: You are not alone. Now please, get out of my office before I call the police.
Herve: Dude, chillax. The world ends in December anyway. So just drink and be merry or something. We'll never live to see this...[pats him on the side]...whatever the hell it is.

[Piett and Herve leave the therapist's office. Troi follows them into the waiting area, watches them leave, then sighs.......then, as the door to the office closes, rolls up his sleeves and gets some trash bags, bleach and surgical tools to deal with the dead people littering his floor.]

*fin*

Wookieetoots

[Somewhere in America. One of the nice states. With well-paved roads and sensible drivers. And where the accents are respectable and not ridiculous.]

[..........so not Massachusetts.]

[A limo pulls up to a very nice building. 2 people exit wearing suits and sunglasses. They look flashy and impressive, like they belong on some glitzy over-rated network TV show with risque scripts and striking camera angles. But it's Quantum Piett, so you'll get none of that nonsense and instead just get a bunch of bullshit.]

Piett: The self-deprecation never ceases to amaze me.
Herve: You have a greater appreciation for what we do than I. Much greater. [looks up] Well, we're here and I hafta say the old dump--WHA?!?!

[Herve points at the building, and Piett looks up while removes his glasses. The large letters - spelling WOOKIEEFARTS - that adorn the lobby corner the building from top to bottom are being removed from the lower floors upward.]

Herve: What does this mean?!?
Piett: Uh, maybe nothing? Or maybe it's just a cosmetic design, or someone needs the big letters more urgently than these people do.
Herve: No, I don't think so. Something's definitely happening here, and it's woefully awful.
Piett: You're just a vessel for the impending plot development. We're gonna walk in there and, naturally, something will be greatly amiss, and we'll cope with it like we always manage to.
Herve: Jebus, you're a heaping mass of depressing today.
Piett: You know why we're here. I'm just here to get it over with, and I'd advise you to just get me through it without much drama.

[Herve and Piett walk from the limo and head into the lobby. Indeed, all around them there is much activity. Movers are walking to and fro, leaving the building with pieces of office furniture and storage boxes, designers are examining schematics and mechanical drawings, and construction workers are alternating between being hard at work and amassing in large groups standing around, doing nothing, but trying to look like they are. Herve and Piett walk to reception, where Herve prepares to hit on the receptionist; when suddenly--]

Amber: Hello, and welcome to Wooki--oh shit, it's you two.
Herve: BUH?!?!?
Amber: Well, this surprise is ruined right off the bat. He's a little too good at that. What *was* he thinking having me sit out here to.....[slaps head].....duh, Amber, receptionist is your eternal damnation!
Herve: Have you ever said this much at once?
Amber: I don't think so. [pause] Hey, some good did come out of this after all.
Herve: Hang on, we've gotta get back into shocked mode, for melodrama's sake and because I'm sure you-know-who is watching this right now. [gets himself all flustered] But wait!! If you're here, then that must mean.... [turns to Piett, who is texting on his phone]
Piett: Just go on without me. I told you I'm not in the melodramatic mood.
Herve [without a pause]: Why, that would mean.......no, no he didn't! They didn't!!Voice: He did!

[Piett and Herve turn around as the new owner of Wookieefarts Inc. steps out of the elevator, which had apparently been held open for some time judging by the perturbed and bothered looks on everyone's faces inside.]

The Boss: Yes, indeed, I......[turns and looks back at the elevator full of people]......don't look at me all "perturbed and bothered."

[Before any of them can speak, he flicks his wrist and the elevator plummets. Bloodcurdling screams quickly fade.]

The Boss: Pricks.
Herve [still melodramatic]: But we're on the ground floor, how on Earth could.....OH!!!!!!
The Boss: What up, former in-law and his sexual deviant comrade?!
Piett: Talk to him, I am so not in the mood.
The Boss: He's in a mood?
Herve: Considering what we're here to do, yes.
The Boss: Oh yeah. That. Well, it happens. [chuckles] A lot.
Herve: So you bought out Wookieefarts? And you're closing it down?
The Boss: Of course. Evil businessman, remember?
Herve: I never remember the businessman aspect of your gimmick, but if you say so...
The Boss: Um, my name is "The Boss." That infers a negative point of view of business in my core characterization. Now let's get this.....unpleasantness [chuckles].....over with, and perhaps back to a sense of normalcy.

[Piett bursts out laughing. He stops himself and all stand awkward for a moment.]
Piett: That felt good.
Herve: You made him feel good. Must eat at your soul when.....oh wait.
The Boss: S'all good. [pause] Wow, this dialogue is very out of place considering who I am.

[They enter the elevator and it closes, moving upwards at a quick pace.]

Piett: Do we wanna know where Walsh is? Did you kill him?
The Boss: He's fine. He finally realized this all was a job he could do from home, hence his ultimate ability to give this business place up.
Herve: I don't actually know what Wookieefarts did, exactly?
The Boss: Walsh didn't either. It seemed clever at the time to have a spiffy office building to house the creativity, but in the last few years it was a combination of awful economic times, a dreary real estate environment, a sudden realization that fan fiction doesn't have any corporate financing to it, and him just not giving a shit that have led us to where we are today...
Herve: So what are you doing with this place now?
The Boss: Oh, a mix of things. I moved a few of the clerical types here, gave some of the Nazis their own floor to be tormented by the continuing existence of the Jew...
Herve: Accounting? [high fives Piett without either of them looking]
The Boss: Actually, no. Accounting is......well...

[The elevator stops on the 13th floor and the doors open to what was the accounting department. But what was once a floor filled with office cubicles and productive workers is now a darkened and volcanic-temperatured chamber of agony and turmoil. The 3 peak out ever so carefully, as demons and other hellbeasts traverse the floor to and fro, dragging the hapless and screaming damned behind them.]

Piett: Wow.
Herve: .....I used to go to lunch with Jim in accounting sometimes...

[He looks at one of the damned - a man whose intestines and internal organs are being fed to him while he hangs from rusty chains - and the faintest of tears swell up in Herve's eye. The door closes.]

Herve [somberly]: That was Jim....

[The rest of the elevator ride is rather quiet, but doesn't last long. The elevator reaches the top floor and they exit into the executive area. Surprisingly, or not, the executive floor is still very well maintained and retain its high-quality glamor.]

Piett: Well. Nice to see the head honcho floor looks befitting of the rich bureaucrat types.
The Boss: Indeed. The filth below us needs to be set apart from the rest of us.

[Herve looks over at a conference room, filled with small business individuals being feasted upon by hideous vampires in suits. Before he can make the fairly obvious sociopolitical joke, though, he bumps into a janitor who is tending to some basic maintenance work on the floors.]

Herve: Oh. Sorry about that.
Janitor: No problem, sir. Sorry I was in the way.

[Herve walks, then stops, then turns back to to the janitor as he speaks aloud.]
Herve: Why is Obscuro a janitor?
Obscuro: Wait. You remember me!
Herve: Sure.
Obscuro: I'm honored, sir! It's good to be out of the basement of forgotten supporting characters. [pause] Even though my gimmick is that I am obscure.
Herve: Yup.
Obscuro: So if you remember me, then......then that would mean...
Herve: Uh huh?

[Pause]

Obscuro: ........I'm even more of a fail than I originally believed myself to ever be.
Herve: Gotcha. [points, winks, grins, leaves]

[Pause]

Obscuro: Well, I'm done. [throws his mop down, leaves]

[Herve catches up with a still-braggard Boss and a still-uninterested Piett. Outside the main executive suite, Graham nods and opens the doors. Suddenly an administrative assistant hands the Boss some paperwork. He signs them, kicks her square in the face, slaps her ass as she lays unconscious on the ground and straightens his tie.]

The Boss: It's good to be The Boss.
Piett: Classy.
Graham: I can't tell you how happy I am that he doesn't do that to *me* every time.
Herve: *Every* time?
Graham [sheepishly]: Yeah...
Herve: You ready?
Piett: Let me just post this last Quickmeme and I'll be--

[The doors open, and Piett catches a glimpse of who is at the conference table.]
Piett: Oh.
Herve: Wait, Quickmeme is what you've been doing this whole ti--oh.
Lucy Ferr: Firmus.
Piett: Lucy.
Herve: Lucy.
Lucy Ferr: Herve.
Herve: Piett.
Piett: Herve.
Lucy Ferr: Piett...Herve.
Piett and Herve: Lucy.
The Boss: Graham.
Graham: Boss.
The Boss: Dammit, stop and tell them--

[In the background, a figure that looks like a janitor falls past the window to his obvious death far below.]

Piett, Herve, Lucy and Graham: Obscuro.
The Boss: SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!

[Piett and Herve chuckle. Lucy groans and Graham shakes his head.]

The Boss: Let's just get this over with.
Piett and Lucy: Yes, please, let's.
Herve: Awww. Even with their estranged marraige finally ending in the eyes of the law and Satan himself, they're still talking together.
Graham: Wait, does that mean we're not going through w--
Piett and Lucy: No. We are. We definitely are.
Herve: AWWWWWWWW [Piett throws his cellphone at him] Ok I'll stop.

[Graham places a suitcase on the table and opens it. A golden light illuminates the room. The Boss pulls out the divorce papers and the suitcase is closed and removed from sight.]

Herve: Wait, so the Pulp Fiction suitcase was divorce-related? [long pause] Holy shit, is that it? Did I just legit figure that shit out?!?!
The Boss: There used to be a lot more bloodletting to divorce. Sacrifices, blood soaked altars. Good times. But now it's just a nice tidy piece of paper.
Piett: I'd have expected more agony out of divorcing your sister.
The Boss [leans back in his chair]: Normally, yeah. But I lost a football bet with an archangel and one of the stips was that I gotta "take it easy" on divorce for a while. [sips water] Mind you, he didn't say "no divorces", just "take it easy." Either way, you're real lucky.
Herve: Was it one of those NFL games with the horrible replacement refs?
The Boss: Replacement refs? [pause] OH COME ON, DID THEY FUCK ME OVER AGAIN?!?!
[Herve snickers, but then immediately stops that. Before any more comedic magic can be made, Piett and Lucy sign the papers.]

Herve: That's it?
Piett and Lucy: That's it.
Herve: Ok, you can stop that. You're divorced.
The Boss: Wow. I expected......more anguish. [looks up, shakes fist] Damn you, Paco!!
Graham: Archangel Paco?
Herve: Goddamn affirmative action.

[The Boss takes the papers and looks them over.]

The Boss: Odd signatures aside, they appear in order.
Herve: Hang on, did I technically witness this, even though I wasn't paying much attention?
The Boss: Sure.

[Herve grabs the papers regardless and looks them over. But he doesn't even get past the stationary's header...]

Herve: You renamed the company WOOKIEETOOTS?!?!
The Boss: What? It's cute.
Herve: It's awful!!!

[The Boss points, winks, grins, leaves.]

Herve: And you're a thief, too, you sinister genius!!

Piett: Are we done?
Lucy: Haven't you been paying attention?
Piett: I meant this whole ordeal. Is it done with?
Lucy: Yeah.
Piett: Good.
Lucy: Great.
Piett: Fine.
Lucy: Terrific.
Graham: This was a very well written, thoroughly explained and compelling seperation, wasn't it?
Herve: No. It was just a plot device that ran out of steam years ago when the series rebooted three or four too many times. [pause] Hey, I just explained it, I think. But don't worry, they'll get back together.
Graham: No they won't.
Herve: Trust me, man. Call it either blind faith or predictable storytelling, but they totally will.



[Many months later. Piett and Herve are watching NFL replacement refs continuing to put the fanbase over a barrel.]



Herve: You never got back together.
Piett: Nope.
Herve: Huh.

[The phone rings. Herve answers.]

Herve: Shut up, Graham. [hangs up]


*fin*

The Complex Multiprocessing Unit Wore a Crappy Pair of Adidas

Herve: So I just fucked a computer and I think I need to go to the hospital.
Piett [spits out drink]: W......WE HAVE COMPANY!!!
Herve: Whoops.
Lawyer: Well, I'm just going to leave and no longer render any more services, as this is exactly the kind of thing your wife said in her divorce filing.
Piett: Oh come on!
Herve: What's this now?
Lawyer: They'll see you in court, Mr. Piett. Good luck with your jail sentence.
Piett: I go to jail for being divorced?? [door slams as lawyer exits] Geez. Since when did God take back over the court system?!
Herve: So she's divorcing you?
Piett: Apparently.
Herve: But we'd just been adventuring without her for.....[looks at watch].....you know, I've never even put batteries in this thing. [coughs] Well, it's been a while. But that long?
Piett: I just thought she was in her room this whole time.
Chronos [from another room]: We coulda told you she wasn't! Hell, I think I did 4 or 5 times!
Cosmos: Cheese it, Chronos, we're not appearing in this story!
Chronos: Right!
Herve: Well, this is...sad?
Piett: Who knows. Maybe the storytelling will get better without an unnecessary character around or something.

[Piett and Herve share a long laugh. A long laugh.]

[Still going.]

[Still....]

[.....oh, you suck.]

Piett: At least he got it. [ponders aloud] Which would've been odd if he hadn't, because he wrote it...
Herve: Hey, at least he's not writing me to punch myself in the dick again.

[Suddenly Piett kicks him square in his midget dick.]

Piett: Oh shit no!!!
Herve: BLOUGRAGHHHHH!!!!! [vomits]

[Herve recovers as Piett feels bad. Finally, the story resumes.]

Herve: Yeah......so I'm infected and need medical attention.
Piett: I recall. No need to repeat it. No context, then?
Herve: Nope.
Piett: Alright then. To the hospital it is.

*******

[Chicago, Illinois, USA, Earth. Because there might be another Chicago out there in space. Who knows?? THERE PROBABLY IS!!!]

Joe Q. Public: Start again.

[Ahem. Sorry. Chicago. County General Hospital. Even though I watched ER for a few years, I still had to wiki this name. The setting is chaotic, possibly because healthcare is fucked up or because the people bleeding and headaching all over the emergency room are. Herve and Piett have been admitted, thanks to strangling the admitting clerk because he looked just like the big dumb comedic foil from Parker Lewis Can't Lose, and sit in a room awaiting a doctor.]

Herve: Do you want to know more?
Piett: I'll let you embarrass the doctor with the details. I'm gonna sit over here with my iPod on.

[As Piett moves to a corner of the room and puts his music on, a doctor
enters.]

Doug Ross: Hello, Mr...........Villechaize? I'm Doug Ross, attending--
Herve: Nope no. No. No. Nope.
Doug Ross: What?
Herve: You're too unorthodoxed. I know your methods, sir. They're questionable most of the time and as a result I feel that I'm gonna die in this room if you even begin the process of treating me.
Doug Ross: Please, just--
Herve: Plus you look like a young George Clooney. So I have no idea when you're about to just abandon this job and pursue a Hollywood career.
Doug Ross: Hollywood?
Herve: Oh yeah. You could totally be Hollywood royalty in, what.......like, 10 years?
Doug Ross: No, this is insane. Hollywood is for refined actors like Cagney and Gable and Newman and Colley.
Piett [listening to his iPod] HA! [resumes bobbing his head, presumably quite unaware of what he just laughed at in the other conversation]
Doug Ross: I'm just some guy in Chicago shleping around an ER helping sick assholes.
Herve: I'll let that one pass because of the Ocean's 11 movies. [pause] Not 12, though. You are all too smug in that one.
Doug Ross: I can't abandon my responsibilities here. I save lives, I matter....but Hollywood. Oh....Hollywood would make me famous. I'd make money. More mone that I could ever make here! I'd really matter there! I could affect real change around the world, using my fame as an excuse to get camera time and spread my crazy ideas to people who'd never have heard them before! Maybe even get a famous girlfriend, or a series of semi-famous girlfriends, or even a gaggle of nobodies who just wanna go out with a dashing famous actor guy.....and never ever commit to any sort of real relationship to any of them!!
Herve: So, you're off then?
Doug Ross: Fuck you and your cancer or whatever, I'm going Hollywood!!!!!

[Doug Ross runs out of the room, leaving an amused Herve and a oblivious Piett behind. Piett removes his ear buds.]

Piett: Hey, was that George Clooney?
Herve: It is now. Bwahaha.
Piett: What did you do?
Herve: I'll explain, though you may not believe me.

[Some minutes pass as Herve explains to Piett. As Piett scoffs, they are interuppted by the sounds of what seem like a commotion emerge from outside, then silence. A few moments later, another doctor enters.]

John Carter: Hello. I'm Dr. John Carter.
Piett and Herve: Of Mars.
John Carter: God, why do people keep saying that?
Herve: Hey, relax. You've got like 20 years to change your name.
John Carter: Why's that?
Herve: Because in 20 years, your name just becomes a symbol of colossal failure.
Piett: Colossal.
John Carter (of Mars?): Well, I'll be taking care of you. Your last doctor just punched the director of the hospital in the face, quit and walked out.
Herve: Because he went to Hollywood.
John Carter: Is that the reason? Huh. [slightly long pause] Y'know, I wonder if I could make it in Hollywood...
Piett: Holy shit, you were right. How are you people making this idiotic leap in logic?!
Herve: Go for it, dude. But don't be dismayed if you're not Hollywood royalty like the other guy.
John Carter: Oh I could give a shit less about that. Just as long as I get the hell out of this hospital and can make a living!

[John Carter leaves. Moments later, another scuffle ensues outside. Piett gets up and looks outside the room.]

Piett: I don't recall who Dr. Anspaugh was, but apparently he's going into cardiac arrest from being assaulted so much. I foresee a lot more of this if we don't get out of here, like, right now. Let's go.
Herve: But I'm not well.
Piett: You've never be well.
Herve: You know what I mean.
Piett: I do. [disgusted sigh, then silence] Should we go to the Chicago Hope hospital?
Herve: Yes, let's go to the Chicago Hope hospital.

[Piett and Herve travel across town to the Chicago Hope hospital. They enter the ER and immediately see Mandy Patinkin is standing on a gurney, singing and dancing about his dead father and a 6-fingered man, Adam Arkin ranting about how his dad is still more famous than he will ever be, and the rest of the cast do strangely outrageous things that would seem normal on shows like The Practice and Picket Fences and other David E. Kelley produced ventures. Before anything else can be explained regarding this mid 1990's medical drama, the hospital is shut down and cancelled, then blows up as Piett and Herve are well down the street walking elsewhere for treatment.]

Herve: Can we get to a doctor already? I think this infection is spreading.
Piett: Something tells me we were supposed to get to a more adventurous point of this tale already.....but sure, let's zip around the last several years of American TV to find you medical treatment.

[Piett and Herve travel to other medical establishments, with little or no success...]

¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø

They visit Becker, but are thrown out when they insist too harshly that the doctor is in fact a Boston bartender and get him so drunk that he kills himself.

They consult the Crossing Jordan people when they come by to investigate Becker's suicide, but then realize they're still on scene and promptly kill all the investigators and the rest of the Becker cast anyway.

No one notices or cares.

They visit Frasier, but leave with bloodied hands when they realize he's a psycho-quack on the radio.

They drop in on Trapper John M.D., who also kills himself after Herve and Piett talk too much about Vietnam....oh no, wait, Korea.....it was Korea. Yeah.

A visit to Nip/Tuck is just horrifying, and a immediate visit to General Hospital is prompted to pump Piett's stomach and other vital organs of vomit.

They consider a visit to Grey's Anatomy and Private Practice, but realize they're really bored with all the killing.

And then they visit Scrubs, where again everyone survives, and both exit rather.....pleased with the experience...

¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø

Herve: For a hospital filled to the brim with douchey douches, it wasn't that bad of a place, was it?
Piett: It was alright, and forgettable enough to forgive its particular annoyances, which will echo through my mind for a little while but ultimately fade from memory. And honestly, humanity deserves all those people to live and breed as a way to atone for its centuries and centuries of sins.

[Pause]

Herve: You've thought about that answer for a while before now, haven't you?
Piett: I really have.

[Pause]

Piett: Wait, wasn't there a whole angle about being a human computer or something? I presume that Disney movie with Kurt Russell we watched a few weeks ago inspired you to fuck the computer.
Herve: No. I fucked it because I'm a short midget who gets no action, and the disk drive was my last resort. If anything, this endeavor was to make fun of TV medical dramas.
Piett: I want a refund for this story.
Herve: Sorry. He writes them for free. *Still*.
Piett: Guh. So, still sick?
Herve: Yup. [coughs, in that way where you call into work and do the cough when you're reporting out sick, even though you're kinda not really sick but want them to think you are and for whatever reason think the cough will really convince them......I've both heard this done and done this myself before, obviously]
Piett: Wow. That was a long one. [cough.....in the normal way] Alright I get it! [to Herve] Relax. You have Space AIDS anyway. You were fucked to start off with. If anything, the computer you fucked should be more concerned for its health that you.
Herve: Oh yeah. [pause] Hey, maybe I got rid of my Space AIDS and gave it to the internet.
Piett: That's entirely and completely unlikely and really fucking stupid. [pause] But I've seen dumber things in our quantum travels, so you probably did.

*******

[Epilogue: in the lair of 2 ne'er-do-wells, who had a part in this story before Walsh got off track and onto the '90s medical drama clap-trap and thus wrote them out (until now)....]

The Ponce: This is why people want nothing to do with us! Even the writer doesn't care enough to use us in the proper story and cuts us out, and merely uses us in an epilogue to prove that he remembered 2 names from a past story and decided to actually make people out of them.
The Diddler: We had a back story. You're British and I'm....
The Ponce: You finger children, Diddler! This is really probably the source of why we're being ignored, by heroes and villains and fan fiction writers who create us as an afterthought!
The Diddler: I fondle them, not finger.
The Ponce: Just shut up and go.....do whatever.
The Diddler: Fondle children.
The Ponce: SHUT UP AND GO AWAY!!!
The Diddler: Alright. I'm going to stalk children online and other awful things. Is the Myspace account still open?
The Ponce: Who even uses Myspace anymore?!
The Diddler: I do. See, it's so off the social radar that I can get away with it more there.
The Ponce: Your grasp of logic sickens, saddens and disturbs me to no end.
The Diddler: Thank you. [pause, as he reads his computer screen] Oh, It seems Myspace is gone.
The Ponce: Really.
The Diddler: Yes. It says that the servers suffered a fatal virus assault....something about AIDS?......and the site has been wiped right off the internet.
The Ponce: And nothing of much value was lost.
The Diddler: Well, what am I going to do now? Craiglist? Facebook? Yelp?
The Ponce: No, no and are you kidding me.
The Diddler: I could always.....[sighs]......I could always go to the park or something.
The Ponce [rubs his temples]: Yes. That sounds like a plan. Go to the park and hit on children there.
The Diddler: Sounds like a plan indeed!
The Ponce: I hate you with everything that I am.
The Diddler: You don't think I don't?
The Ponce: You don't, do you?
The Diddler: I don't. Because I know I'm awful and don't wish to change anything. Well, toodles, old chum. I'll be back in a while.
The Ponce: Yes. Toodles, mate. [door closes, and immediately The Ponce grabs the phone and dials] Hello, 911, I'd like to report a pedophile. [long pause] What do you mean YOU DON'T CARE?! [pause] Well, alright then. Get fucked by a horse, asshole. [hangs up, dials again] Hello, Chris Hanson, I'd like to report a pedophile. [pause] Bless you, sir. Bless you. He's located at.....

*fin*