Behold the Blogmaster!

In another realm, a dark and disturbing corner of the parade of multiverses, lies the Blogoverse. Within it, the thoughts of nearly every man, woman, child, god, dog, cat, horse, alien, robot are collected and recorded in a metaphysical blog for no real purpose other than because the universe works in mysterious and weird ways.

But today, the Blogoverse lies in ruin, overcome by the thought process of one single individual, who has somehow managed to gain an army of demented yet loyal followers met over the Internet. Once just an overweight emo shut-in, he is now the Blogmaster - self-professed conqueroring lord of the Blogoverse.

As we descend beyond the ethers of space and time, through layers of binary code & other computer language and into his madness-filled lair, the Blogmaster stands on his comfy computer chair throne laughing triumphantly. But there has been much chaos, as hundreds of his followers lie dead around him and only a scant few remain. In restraints is Firmus Piett - quantum adventurer of the Space Time Continuum and, this day, also the assigned protector of the Blogoverse - now held captive by the Blogmaster's remaining minions.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! You sought to defeat me, but now it is I - THE BLOGMASTER - who has turned the tables on you, Quantum Piett!!!

Piett [drolly]: Oh dear me. Whatever shall I do.

Blogmaster: My cohorts in calamitous crime have subdued you, and now you shall--wait a minute, that sounded completely disingenous.

Piett [another synonym for droll, as my PC's thesaurus feature doesn't quite seem to work at the moment]: What do you mean. You have bested me and now I am at your mercy.

Blogmaster: Put some emotion into it.

Piett: Ha. Ha.

Blogmaster: Enough of this! Conflickor....torment him!

[Conflickor, the PC-virus wielding malcontent, lashes out at Piett with his weaponry.]

Piett: Um.......are you even doing anything?

Conflickor: I am, sorta. But you'll know and feel it.....eventually!

[Suddenly Herve appears in a flash of light, with a large burlap sack by his side.]

Herve: Conflickor? We're making fun of a kinda outdated computer virus now? How about I toss some SARS at you all?

Blogmaster: Villechaize!!!

Piett: Oh hooray. It's Herve to the rescue......oh wait, I can stop this now. Good.

[Piett escapes out of his constraints - he was apparently faking it the whole time - as Herve leaps into action. Herve takes a 2-liter bottle of ginger ale from within the burlap sack and heaves it at Conflickor, who catches it amidst great puzzlement. Suddenly, Herve pulls out a gun and shoots the ginger ale. It explodes in a liquid frenzy, and Conflickor is consumed by it. He screams and boils alive, falling down and finally dying a hideously drawn-out death.]

Herve: And THAT's how you kill a computer virus, bitch!

Piett: Ah, ginger ale. Is there anything you CAN'T do?

Blogmaster: Buffington! Warkraft! Destroy them!

[Buffington, the far-left fringe musclehead, and Warkraft, the hypnotist villainous and abyss of responsibility, hurry from their leader's side and toward the quantum agents. Warkraft is first, trying to enslave the minds of his foes.]

Herve: Piett, look away!

[But Piett is grabbed by the large Buffington as Warkraft now tries to mentally dominate Herve. Good luck with that.]

Warkraft: You will be entranced by my power! Fall under my cloak of dispair - embrace the false life I can offer as an escape from this dreadful world - and give your mind to me!!

Herve: Must....resist....will resist!

Warkraft: Even if you do, no man or woman ever has and survived in one piece!

Herve: I will! I WILL!!!

Warkraft: Why do you fight?! SUBMIT!!

Herve: Why? Because....because I'm too fed up with computers to download all that stupid gaming shit onto mine!

Warkraft: Impossible! You....you CANNOT!!

[Warkraft's resolve falters, and somehow - perhaps for the first time in his life - Herve wins a war of the wills. He pulls out his gun again and shoots Warkraft right between the eyes, killing him dead.]

Herve: Fucking gamer. Swap the k for a c....I still know what it is!

[Herve turns to confront the other minion of the Blogmaster, but is swatted away quickly and flies several feet away from the action. Buffington has Piett in a bearhug, and the more he struggles the more Piett realizes that he may very well be hugged to death.]

Piett: Damn you, your grip.....so deadly.....

Buffington: Now you will pay for the crimes and trangressions of your ancestors, you oppressive Protestant white devil American!

Piett: So much.....wrong with that....statement....

Buffington: Submit to my superior will and accept the change that comes to overwhelm you and your lifestyle!

Piett: Just can't let anything go.....or move on.....left wing ninny.....also making me speak....very.....slowly.....

Blogmaster: Oh, just kill him already!

Buffington: I do not kill, I maim and cripple so that they can suffer more!

[Piett, maybe on the verge of death but let's face it probably not, suddenly wiggles free to the horror of the liberal machine.]

Buffington: But, how?!?

Piett [once again, find your own word for droll because it still doesn't work]: I knew it. All I needed to do was become completely indifferent and non-emotional towards your crazy commie ramblings. Now I'm neutral to your wrath. AND I probably know how to kill you.

Buffington: Nooooo!!!

[Without the ability to cross over into his moderate frame of mind, Buffington is powerless to defeat Piett. Piett takes out a sharp object and carves a 4-letter last name into Buffington's chest. The behemoth screams and, like Conflickor before him, dies an agonizing death.]

Herve: Pretty lame that you can kill a man by just carving the word "Bush" into his chest. They never will get over him, will they?

Blogmaster: You....you cannot have stopped them!!

[Blogmaster begins summoning large icons out of the air and hurls them at Piett and Herve. They easily duck and dodge the objects and continue their advance.]

Piett: And now it's time to deal with you, Blogmaster, and punish you for your crimes.

Blogmaster: Punishment?! What about my trial?

Herve: Really not up for you quoting the animated GI Joe movie, douchebag. Oh, speaking of bag...

[Herve runs away, as Piett forces Blogmaster back onto his deluxe posture mesh fabric computer chair.]

Piett: Now you pay for....trying to crash every dating and social sites on the internet. [pause] Man, it sounds so pathetic when I say it out loud.

Blogmaster: I.....I had to destroy them! They denied me....true love! [cries]

Piett: Oh, stop your crying you overweight emo shut-in bastard. [slaps him] Herve, get this over with.

Herve [dragging the burlap sack towards Piett and the Blogmaster]: I had 658 Facebook friends.....you asshole.....and now I have to find the time.....to get them all back.....ow, possible heart attack .....little help here!!

[Piett grabs the bag and stops Herve.]

Piett: You couldn't have just opened it up and let her out?

Blogmaster: H...[sobs]...her??

Piett: Oh yeah, we got you a girlfriend. That....that IS the best way to defeat you, right? To shut you up and give you what you want.

[Piett and Herve open the bag, and out comes an average sized woman. Single, maybe a few extra pounds in places but there's certainly not a problem with that, employed, non-smoker/social drinker, no kids and between the ages of 26 and 38.]

What could be your perfect match: Oh, my love!! It's you!

Blogmaster: Whoa, what the fuck?!

Piett and Herve: What?

Blogmaster: Hey now, hold on. First off, I don't even know this woman and she says she loves me. That's uber-creepy and probably means she's a crayz chick. Secondly, she's not really all the things I was looking for. Not quite the right age, her hair's not red at all like I like, she's not a divorcee with 3 kids and she's nowhere near a double D...

Herve: Wait....[rubs his forehead].....so you're single, alone, and yet PICKY?!?

Blogmaster: Well..........yeah. I have standards. [snorts his nose, scratches his ass]

[Herve takes his gun and split's Blogmaster wig.]

What clearly was not his perfect match: Noooo!!!

[Herve splits young woman's wig too.]

Piett: Good lord. What's with splitting people in the wig now?

Herve: It's fun. [reloads his gun] And effective. [pause] What does splitting people in the wig mean?

Piett: It's street for shooting them in the head. [pause] And why are you reloading? No one else is left here.

Herve: I wouldn't be resorting to this if you'd just used the Faye Dunaway plan.

Piett: That was a weird plan, dude. Kicking him in the dick, tossing him into a portal and trapping him in a universe full of Faye Dunaways. Who knew there was even room in an infinite array of universes for a "Faye Dunaway Universe," and that we'd actually come across it one day to boot.

Herve: Shoulda kicked him in the dick, at least.

Piett: I can kick anyone in the dick. Like Walsh, for writing us into an adventure that was about avenging the destruction of stupid social sites like eHarmony and Yahoo Personals and Match.com.

Herve: And not even a full adventure. Maybe that was his mercy shining through, though.

Piett: Or bad writing and poor story development. [pause] This has de-evolved into a Walsh bashing much more blatantly than usual, huh?

Herve: Ooh, maybe Ponte's writing this one.

Piett: Nah. Too much talk of just kicking dicks and nowhere near enough actual images of dicks.

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In some alternate place, Sean Walsh and Michael Ponte - co-creators of QUANTUM PIETT - are just beating the shit out of each other right now probably...

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Herve: Well, enough rambling. Let's go home.

[Herve unveils his belt buckle/time travelling device.]

Piett: I still can't believe you had one of your own this whole time.

Herve: People don't need to see me touching my groin.

Piett: But I thought you did want people to see that. Specifically, whores.

Herve: Whores aren't people.

Piett: ...and blessed be you for unveiling that window into your dark disgusting soul...

[Herve clicks it.................................and nothing happens. He continues clicking it, becoming more frustrated and angry, and still nothing happens.]

Piett [mockingly]: Don't touch your groin, Herve, no one wants to see that. Eww, gross, midget touching his groin! Midget touching his groin!

Herve: Fine, dickwad, you try yours.

[Piett unveils his belt buckle portal device thingy which I've never come up with a name for, for some reason. And like Herve's, it doesn't work either. Piett repeats the same frustrated and angry attitude Herve just did.]

Herve [mockingly]: Yes....yes.....punch your groin. Render it useless. Mwahahaha!

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In another alternate place, Sean Walsh - depressed over his lack of a love life and not having had sex for....oh, I can't even remember how long ago it was anymore - punches his groin and takes his anger out on himself and cries the whooooooole time........sniffle...

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Piett: Well, this is terrific. [both he and Herve sit down] We're stuck in a....Mathmagicland full of corpses. No food, no....anything, really. Why was these clowns even here??

Herve: I think I have another bottle of ginger ale in the burlap sack.

Piett: Can that get us home?!

Herve: No. It's for refreshment. Pretty sure it can't open portals to the Space Time Continuum. [pause] Or could it...?

[Herve shakes the bottle up and opens it, spraying ginger ale all over the area. Alas, no time travelling / space traversing portal opens up.]

Herve: Damn. It CAN'T do everything.

Piett: And now we have no refreshment. Great.

Herve: Well........there's always cannibalism.

Piett: GAH! We've only been here, like, a half hour or something!

Herve: I meant feast on the corpses. You know, when it comes down to that..

Piett: Then say necro-cannibalism. Geez! You'll freak me out by just calling it regular cannibalism...

Herve: So that freaks you out, but eating the flesh of the dead doesn't.

Piett: Weird, I know, but true.

[As Herve goes to counter with a pithy retort.....hey, the thesaurus is working again!.....the 2 are suddenly beamed away from and out of the Blogoverse completely. They reappear in....a most familiar place.]

Herve: Bleargh!!

Piett: Oh for...why does everyone seem to vomit nowadays when being suddenly teleported?

Herve: I wasn't actually vomiting. You'll notice the lack of stomach contents on the floor around me--

[They both stop, looks around them and becomes suddenly and overwhelmingly gleeful]

Piett: MY SHIP!!!

[Indeed, Piett and Herve are back onboard the Executor II.]

Herve: Holy gonads, Batman, I think it is!

Piett: Wait.......

[They run to a computer console, Piett keys in a password, and images of pornography flicker to life.]

Herve and Piett: IT IS OUR SHIP!!!

Ashley: Hello boys.

Herve: Hey, look, it's Ash....A....ahhhhhHHHH!!AHHHHH!!AHHHHH!!AHHHHH!! [vomits, flees to hide]

Ashley: Well, that's always warms a girl's heart.

Piett: I never told him that you're actually old enough to.....you know....

Ashley: Oh. Well....there's some good, I guess?

Piett: So you have your own Super Star Destroyer now? Kinky.

Ashley: How would that be kinky in any way?

Piett: I'm an odd man. Did you know I used to be married and then dumped her because she was getting into porn to learn how to pleasure me better?

Ashley: Um.....yes.

[Awkward pause.]

Piett: Oh yeah. Sorry.

Ashley: But you answer your question before it got weird......no, I do not have my own super star destroyer.

Piett: So......where does the conversation go from here?

Ashley: Awkwardly.

Piett: I can do that.

Ashley: Oh I know. But see, this isn't really me. I'm actually a hologram.

Piett: Really now? Very nice. I can barely tell.

Ashley: You mean when you were just trying to grope my backside.

Piett [to self]: Oh how cute, she calls it a backside. [coughs] I mean, sorry.

Ashley: You can't have sex with a hologram, Piett.

Piett: I.....I could try...

[Suddenly the hologram turns into....someone else.]

George Gaynes: I'm pretty sure you would not want to try that, Piett.

Piett: WHAWHOJESUSGODOHMYFUCKSHITBLEARGHHHH!!!!AHHHHH!!AHHHHH!!AHHHHH!! [vomits, flees to hide]

George Gaynes: I hope they realize soon that I'm a hologram so they'll need to clean this puke up for themselves...

*to be continued*