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!!!!!

¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø,¸¸,ø¤°`°¤ø

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*

Quantumeme

[Unrelated prologue: November 2012. An electoral voting center, somewhere in the heart or pancreas of America. As those assembled practice their constitutional right to vote, a flash of light envelops the room. Some don't believe what they're seeing, some fall to their knees in homage, and some roll their eyes and persecute those who believe in what flash of light they believe in. But all are.....perplexed to see Piett and Herve emerge.]

Herve: Do they know who we are?
Piett: No. They probably think we're angels or something.
Herve [snickers]: Oh, those silly rascals.
Piett: Excuse me! [addresses everyone in the room] Do I need to show my photo ID to vote here?

[Everyone immediately erupts into laughter. This goes on for a while. It's patriotically disturbing but also quite clever if you think about it. In the midst of the mass of hilarity, Piett walks over to the vacated and scribbles in names on the ballots. He returns to the center of the room as Herve keeps a vigilant facepalm the whole time.]

Piett: The task is complete.
Herve: This won't affect the election at all.
Piett: We do it 1250 more times and it will.
Herve: 1250 t--

[They flash away.]

*******

Herve: Oh my God, we're on the Internet!!
Piett: Ok, stop that. I know we're meta-textual, you know we're
meta-textual, so I'm pretty bothered that you're saying something like this
and expecting us to move on.
Herve: No, really, we're on the Internet!!
Piett: Enough of this alreadoh holy shit we are on the Internet!!!

[Piett and Herve look around, and find that they are suddenly trapped on
the internet site Quickmeme.com. A maddening looking man is peering down on
them through a giant computer screen.]

Herve: Oh shit. [pause] Well, we might as well get going for him.

[Herve starts removing his clothes.]

Piett:
JESUSFUCKINGCHRISTONACRUTCHMARYJOSEPHDICKBALLSSHITWHATAREYOUGODDAMNDOINhuh,
you really have a small penis.
Herve: For a person my size, it's enormous.
Piett: I'd laugh if I hadn't just yelled in capital letters and put myself
in a position to go into cardiac arrest if I......y'know, doing a lot of
talking here when I should be having a cardiac arrest. [pause]
HAHAHAHAHA!!!!
Herve: You are scum, sir, and I detest you.
Internet filth! Know your doom!
Herve: Walsh?!
Captionater: NO!! I am.....the Captionater!
Piett: Please tell me he's kidding.
Herve: He's kidding.
Piett: Whew.
Herve: I'm kidding. He's not kidding.
Piett: Damn.
Herve: Hey, you didn't say I couldn't kid about him kidding.
Captionater: May I have the spotlight once more, please?
Herve: Sorry. We do the banter thing a bit too much, and unnecessarily for
the most part.
Captionater: I am the Captionater!
Piett and Herve: We know!
Captionater: And I add captions to mock and insult! FEAR ME!
Herve: No!
Captionater: What?
Herve: Sorry. The silly banter again. But really, unless you've got agents
of dread and dispair to fight us, we really do have zero reason to fear you
or really do anything you say.
Captionater: But you are my prisoners!
Piett: From what I can gather, we're trapped in this website solely by
freak accident. You're just a user [points to login information] and thus
have no ultimate control over our fates. The people who
run......Quickmeme.com are.
Herve: Oh shit, not Quickmeme!
Piett: What? Why? Que?
Herve: Dude, haven't you ever seen those meme pictures on Facebook?! This
means--
Captionater: It means.......THIS!!!







Piett: What is happening? Or rather, what is not happening?
Captionater: Hold on. Internet Explorer is running a bit slow.
Piett: UGH.
Herve: Catch up with the rest of us, Cro-Magnon man. Chrome, Firefox....Jebus, even Commodore 64 these days--
Captionater: AHA! It works!!
Piett: Huzzah.
Captionater: Now witness..........MY SNARK!
Herve: Eww, I don't wanna see th--



Herve: --at!!
Piett: You were just taking your clothes off, dummy.

[Pause]

Piett: So what are we doing here? Commentary on the pictures we seeing or
the little red x's that may be showing up because Walsh fucked up the html?
Herve: You're so witty. [pause] Yeah, I guess we can do commentary. Beats
an actual plot.

[Pause of preparation for much wit.]

Piett: Ouch. That had to hurt. Someone. Somewhere. Out there. [looks out
into the void] WE'RE SO SORRY!
Herve: Whew, I thought you were gonna start singing an American Tail song...



Herve: Heh. Even *I* get that.



Piett: Actually, this is really Quantum Piett number 194. He seems to have
counted the 1st 2 posts on this blog as stories, when they are in fact just
Walsh writing to an imaginary audience about updates on the blog. Oh, also
Walsh reposted an old Star Wars parody post at the end of 2011, so never
mind what I said before. This is really it's Quantum Piett number 193.



Piett: Better.

[pause]

Piett: Hey wait a minute!!



Herve: Well I take that as a fine compliment, sir! The Dos Equis guy knows
his shit.



Piett: Sean Bean speaks the truth.
Herve: He also dies in every movie he's in.
Piett: National Treasure.

[Herve slaps him in the face for mentioning a Nic Cage movie.]

Piett: I deserved that.



Piett: Gene Wilder speaks the truth too. [shakes his head, mutters to self] Walsh, you idiot...



Herve: So does......baby with hypnotically strange hand?
Piett: He's holding wet sand in his fist.
Herve: I'd like to believe that. But I can't.



Herve: Too soon.
Piett: What?
Herve: Batman reference. Too soon to the tragedy.
Piett: What, the Dark Knight Rises theatre shooting in Aurora, Colorado?
Herve: No. To Batman & Robin, featuring Arnold Schwarzenegger as Mr.
Neverending Ice Puns, Uma Thurman as Bette Davis as Poison Ivy, the
Californian/British Batgirl and "Bane." [pause] Wait, we were just in 1997
earlier, right? Because that's what I'm referring to. Where in the timeline is this being told??
Piett: Time travel is SUCH a mindfuck.



Herve: You really don't like that guy.
Piett: I had nothing to do with that image.
Herve: Considering how God-Emperor Bush died, you should...
Piett: Jesus, come on now. We somehow managed to navigate space and time in an old timey hot air balloon....WHY COULDN'T HE?!?!



Piett: The stroke would explain why Fry's so stupid.
Herve: I thought it was because he was Irish.
Piett [to the reader(s)]: Walsh is Irish, people. Don't be offended if you
share that affliction too.


Piett: This one confuses me. Are raccoons supposed to be lame masters of
pun?
Herve: It's just meme crap. Don't put much thought into it, or you'll get
brain cancer.
Piett: I'm actually not really offended by much of this. That was the
point, right? Being offended at the insults being hurled at us via meme
pictures?
Herve: I think so?
Piett: It is getting tiring. [pause] Piett: Fuck this shit. I'm ending this
"story."

[Piett leaps into the source code.]

Captionater: Did he just do that?
Herve: He just did, son. [pause] So you're a villain who writes insulting
captions.
Captionater: Not so much a villain as an antagonist. I haven't done
anything evil per se, I'm just antagonizing you and placing myself as your
moral opposite for the moment.
Herve: Well that's logically thought out. And indeed, you haven't really
done anything awful......if anything, all you've done wrong is have a weird
handle.
Captionater: Would you rather I have one of those annoying ones with
numbers replacing physically-similar letters, or improper capitalizations?
[pause] C@p+i0NaTeR?
Herve: Wow, you really aren't awful. [pause] And is it wrong that I like
that new handle?
C@p+i0NaTeR: Swee--



Herve: Holy....
C@p+i0NaTeR: Wow. [pause] WOW. [longish pause] Well, this was fun, but as always a line
is ultimately crossed and so I log off.
Herve: Um, ok? Later?
C@p+i0NaTeR: No. No, I think this is the last time we cross paths. I'll
just stick to Angry Birds, Wikipedia and Ain't It Cool News comment threads
from now on.

[The Captio.....sorry....The C@p+i0NaTeR logs off and the screen goes
blank. Herve is left alone, in a now dormant internet environment. Piett
re-emerges from the source code, very proud and full of himself.]

Piett: Yeah, fucker, TAKE THAT!!
Herve: He logged off. You hit a nerve, dude.
Piett: That's what he gets! Bitch!
Herve: That was....a bit much, man. He was just some internet putz dicking
around with captioned meme pictures for the heck of it. And you had to go
alienate him. And this is me saying this. [pause] Also, if you think about
it, he was a fan.
Piett: Wha?
Herve: He seemed pretty knowledgeable of our doings.
Piett: Well, huh. At least we worked that saying into a story.
Herve: A saying you came up with while we were watching The Love Bug.
[shakes his head] When you've managed to offend me, you've just reached a
level of disturbing that we should really be staying away from....

*******

[Unrelated epilogue: Some time later, back at the mansion of Cosmos and Chronos, masters of space and time....respectively.]

Chronos: Hey, we got a shout out!
Cosmos: Quit it! I enjoy not being in these stories for a change!

[Piett is at the nook and Herve is reading the newspaper on his iPad.]

Herve: "Ratfuck Cocknose elected President of the United States." [pause] I don't know what's more impressive.......that your exhaustive stunt at the voting place actually worked, or that you remembered Ratfuck Cocknose's name from a past adventure. Either way......[sigh].......fuck you, Piett.

*fin*

Crossover in a Glass Time Bubble

[Within the colorful confines of the Space/Time Continuum, Piett and Herve suddenly appear, after yet another thrilling cosmic adventure.]

Herve: Gods, I love free comic books day.
Piett: For the last time, that was not Free Comic Book Day. You just robbed 18 comic book stores of.....18 things?
Herve: First off, I didn't capitalize the day in my original statement. Hell, I specifically said "books", which should've explained I wasn't associating this romp with the first weekend of May extravaganza. Second, I didn't steal much because I don't want to put those people out of business. Let the rest of their shitty economics do that.
Piett: But.....[examines Herve's loot] a random issue of Azrael: Agent of the Bat? A GI Joe figure with only one arm and what appears to be a He-Man sword? 21 Jump Street on Blu-Ray?!
Herve: I'm helping weed out the crap. Slowly. But surely.
Piett: Good grief, it's crap like this that makes me wish I was back in the Imperial wait where are we anyway??

[Piett and Herve look around. They find themselves in a semi-large glass bubble, traversing through the Space/Time Continuum. Several feet beside them they sense the presence of 2 more people.]

Rip Hunter: Are you going to do something about them already, Booster?!
Booster Gold: I'm just appreciating their banter. [pause, then sniffs] Darn, I miss Ted.
Herve: Booster? Booster Rocket?!
Booster Gold: Who?
Rip Hunter [brings time bubble to a stop]: Oh no, not these guys.
Booster Gold: These guys?
Rip Hunter: Yeah. THESE guys.
Booster Gold: These these these JUST GET ON WITH IT!
Rip Hunter: We're time travelers serving the masters of Space and Time.
Piett and Herve: WHAT?!
Piett: Cosmos and Chronos have another duo?
Booster Gold: Who?
Piett: The masters of space and time.
Herve: Respectively.
Rip Hunter: Respectively? Sounds...oh no, THOSE GUYS.
Booster Gold: Those guys?
Rip Hunter: Yeah, those--
Piett, Herve and Booster Gold: Those those those SHUT UP!!!
Herve: We should hug when we say the same thing in unison.
Piett: We're never on the same level about much of anything at all ever.
Herve: Someday we'll hug. Hell, maybe in the timestream we already have. And it'll be wonderful.
Booster Gold: No, Booster, we don't wanna hug you. [sighs] Ted would.
Rip Hunter: Booster, the beings at Vanishing Point have warned us about those guys. And these guys.
Booster Gold: Good job avoiding them completely, then.
Rip Hunter: It was gonna happen eventually, Booster.
Piett: Vanishing Point?
Booster Gold: It's like a giant mansion floating on a giant rock in the middle of the Space/Time Continuum or something.
Piett: You sure we're not talking about the same people here?
Herve: Hang on. Are your guys gay?
Booster Gold: Gay? Cool.
Rip Hunter: Very progressive, Booster.
Booster Gold: Thanks.
Rip Hunter: No. I don't think our guys are gay.
Booster Gold: They're very 90'sish, though. Big cyborg dude, flying gold guy whose head is on fire.
Rip Hunter: The cyborg guy is me.
Booster Gold: Was me. [short pause] Wait, WHAT?!
Rip Hunter: It was me and is me.
Booster Gold: Again, I yell "WHAT?!"
Rip Hunter: Yeah. The '90s.
Booster Gold: And now you're...
Rip Hunter: 60'sish. Retro is in again.
Booster Gold: But you're still also that big cyborg guy back at Vanishing Point.
Rip Hunter: Yes.
Booster Gold: At the same time you're this, too.
Rip Hunter: Yes.
Booster Gold: Time travel. [pshaws] What a mindfuck. You know what I mean?
Herve: TOTALLY.
Piett: I will rape you people with a spork if you don't get on with explaining all this.
Rip Hunter: Whoa!!
Booster Gold: We're time travelers. I'm Booster Gold, the greatest hero you've never heard of. This is Rip Hunter, my....
Rip Hunter: Cohort and time companion.
Herve: Gay?
Booster Gold: What? No.
Rip Hunter: Maybe.
Booster Gold? Me?! Or you?
Rip Hunter: Possibly me. Never really thought about it.
Piett: Well, we're--
Rip Hunter: We know who you are, Piett and Herve.
Booster Gold: Wow, those are pronounced a lot different than I'd thought.
Herve: We've been at this time travel quantum adventuring thing for a while, so why the scrub treatment?
Rip Hunter: We're a bit more established.
Piett: How's that now?
Booster Gold: I've been published.
Piett: So have we.
Booster Gold: Legitimately.
Herve: Hey, the HP Walsh printed us on that one time was a properly licensed and distributed multi-functional device.
Piett: So.....where are you time traveling to?
Rip Hunter: We shouldn't really be--
Booster Gold: Come on, Rip. We could use the company.
Rip Hunter:
Booster Gold: I can go whining again about how my best friend in the whole multiverse was unjustly murdered and you won't let me go back to either prevent his death or at least pluck him out of the timestream and go adventuring with him until we inevitably have to place him back at the moment of his death.
Piett [horrified, grabs Herve by the shoulder]: Is that gonna happen to me????
Herve: Wanna hug?
Piett: God yes. [hugs]
Rip Hunter: Oh alright fine, Booster. They can come along. [to Piett and Herve] We're on our way to fight with wizards and sorcerers in the late Cretaceous Period.
Piett: Dinosaurs? Wizards? Sorcerers?
Herve: Guh. Pass.
Booster Gold: Pass?! Dudes, DINOSAURS!
Rip Hunter: And wizards!
Booster Gold: Focus on the dinosaurs, not so much the sword and sorcery crap.
Piett: Exactly. Sword and sorcery crap. We avoid that at all costs.
Rip Hunter: Well, we don't.
Booster Gold: Yeah, [sarcastically] *we* don't.
Herve: If someone isn't using them as Dino-Riders, then we have no interest in helping.
Rip Hunter: They might be, actually.
Herve: Like you know what Dino-Riders are.
Rip Hunter: Brain boxes, Krulos, Valorians, the Step Crystal...
Herve [to Piett]: This motherfucker is good.
Piett: Ok, we'll go.
Booster Gold: Sweet!
Piett: So why are we fighting dinosaurs?
Rip Hunter: Because someone's using them to obtain an ancient orb embedded in a meteor that hit the Earth recently. That orb will allow the user to take over the world.
Herve: It's a world of dinosaurs. Who cares. They'll be dead anyway in a few years or something.
Booster Gold: You mean you don't know?
Piett: Know what?
Booster Gold: How the dinosaurs all died?
Herve: It was a meteor. Duh.
Rip Hunter: Um, no. Definitely not a meteor.
Booster Gold: In fact, this meteor in question is "what killed the dinosaurs."
Herve: DUH!
Rip Hunter: The reality is much.....more worse.
Piett [extends his hand]: SHOW US!!!
Herve: Really.
Piett: A bit much?
Herve: Yeah. A bit.

[The time bubble travels through the ethers of space and time and swiftly emerges in the late Cretaceous Period, circa 65.6 million years B.C. On a plot of land which will one day be the Yucatán Peninsula in Mexico, the time bubble lands comfortably on a rocky ground. Its inhabitants all exit, and in the considerable distance see a most disturbing yet awe-inspiring sight.]

Herve: That's.............no, no, that can't be.
Piett: Say it. Because I think it really is.
Herve: Is.....is that Al Gore wreaking havoc on a population of dinosaurs and sword-wielding wizards?
Rip Hunter: Yes. That is former President Al Gore.
Booster Gold: And his Weather Domination machine.
Piett: You mean "former presidential candidate Al Gore."
Booster Gold: No. 2020, bro.
Piett: Really?
Booster Gold: Straight up.
Herve: Shit, that sucks.
Piett: So why's he here?
Rip Hunter: He's, in his mind, saving the Earth. Utilizing his 21st Century environmental genius, Gore is using the power of his technology and this ancient orb located with the meteor that humanity believes killed the dinosaurs, he is trying to create an Ice Age several million years before the Ice Age we all know of from those annoying CGI animated movies.
Herve: Logically. Who doesn't hate all those asshole animals?
Rip Hunter: Gore believes an even more powerful and potent Ice Age created by him will keep the Earth better intact and be able to fight off the negative effects of global warming in future eras of the Earth's history.
Herve: How insidously........noble.
Rip Hunter: What he doesn't know, though, is this...

[Suddenly the time bubble flashes back into the Space/Time Continuum. It reemerges in Pennsylvania in the year 1776, where the four time travelers spot 2 armies of men riding polar bears and dogsleds and utilizing other ridiculous snow-based equipment. Herve recognizes  the leader of one of the armies and points in shock at him from afar.]

Herve: Is that.....George Washington?
Rip Hunter: Yes. Because Al Gore's Ice Age was too successful, it managed to freeze much of what human history would be and alter the very nature of man as a result. The ancient Greeks were much more bitter and frost-stricken and thus their philosophy was skewed towards pessimism and angst....although they *were* a lot less gay because they were wearing lots of clothes all the time. The age of the Egyptian pyramids never came to pass, because no one wanted to build shit in the snow if it wasn't an igloo. The Renaissance consisted of Italians building ice sculptures and do-hickeys that kept them warm, instead of the great inventions and architectural structures that propelled mankind into a new age of ingenuity and wisdom. However, the rise of America still came to pass, when a noble band of Pilgrims and Protestants ventured to The New World in the early 17th century. However, rather than landing in boats across the Atlantic Ocean, they crossed by foot over the Atlantic Big-Ass Ice Patch. And they only just got here a few months ago, where they promptly got into a war with the Native American populace.
Booster Gold: A Native American populace that rides polar bears and dogsleds.
Herve: So much more awesome than all the other Native Americans I can think of.

[Without any hint or warning, the time bubble flashes out of this time period for another.]

Herve: Oh dammit, we were watching Indians fight George Washington on polar bears!!
Rip Hunter: Not worth the effort. You see, because these Native Americans were never shamed into subservience by an awful series of explorers, they possessed far too much pride and became quite egotistical. So they would lose this war against the huddled masses of immigrants. And America would be born, although with a series of considerable changes.
Booster Gold: No conflicts with the British or Mexicans, no slavery, no Civil War...
Rip Hunter: And because those series of events that challenged the resolve and morality of America never occurred.....this happened.

[They shunt out of the Continuum and swiftly into the year 1890. Over the skies of Berlin, Germany, The foursome look on at sheer madness and annihilation below. Herve rubs his eyes as he recognizes yet another American presidential icon.]

Herve: Is that Benjamin Harrison?!?
Rip Hunter: Yes. Former President Benjamin Harrison.
Piett [to self]: How the fuck did he recognize Benjamin Fucking Harrison?
Herve: Wait, despite all the changes in human history, Benjamin Harrison still somehow became the President of the United States at the same time as he would've have before Al Gore's meddling?!?
Rip Hunter: It would seem so, yes.
Herve: I'm impressed.
Piett: And Benjamin Harrison is doing....what now?
Booster Gold: He's using the energies and powers from deep within the Earth's core, along with flashy steampunk technology, to destroy the German people.
Herve: So the world and mankind managed to shake off Al Gore's Ice Age.
Rip Hunter: Oh no. Gore's Ice Age actually managed to fuck up the Earth more than global warming and climate change and global cooling and weather domination .
Herve: In the course of 100 years.
Rip Hunter: In the course of 100 years.
Booster Gold: I could've told them global warming was a hoax. I'm from the future after all.
Piett: But who'd have believed you? You're kind of an idiot.
Booster Gold: Just because it's true doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.
Herve: Wow. So somehow, the fouled up Ice Age causes Benjamin Harrison to destroy Germany?
Rip Hunter: Evidently.
Piett: Wow, how......ironically and hilariously genocidal of him.
Booster Gold: Really?
Piett: Yeah. I mean, he's destroying what will become Nazi Germany in the process, yes? Giant steampunk robot men pouring acid and lava all over Berlin and Munich and everywhere else they can. That kinda puts a hamper on all that stuff Hitler was doing.
Rip Hunter: Heh. You'd like to think that. But look what happens because there's no Nazi Germany.
Herve: There'd still be a Nazi Germany after all this crap we've just seen?! Jebus!
Piett: Wh--

[Once again, the time bubble leaps into the Continuum, and nanoseconds later they roughly 150 years in the future, hovering over Mount Rushmore, where they once again see a rather familiar presidential site.]

Herve: Is that.............wait, who is that?
Rip Hunter: President Cicimitten Jolson Flopunkin.
Herve: I don't know him.
Rip Hunter: Her. 84th President of the United States.
Piett: Jeez, at this rate we must be in the year....
Booster Gold: 2024.
Herve: 2024? That's a lotta presidents in a short amount of time.
Booster Gold: Super Sniper had a good career.
Rip Hunter: Oh Super Sniper, what a fun one he was.
Herve: Super Sniper? Cute. I'd like to encounter him in an adventure.
Booster Gold: Don't bother. That was his only gig. Killing like 50 presidents in a row.
Rip Hunter: Helluva gig though. He died of AIDS a few days later.
Piett: That's awful.
Herve: Any back story?
Booster Gold: No, just some dude.
Herve: Great recap.
Piett: And this President Cicimitten Jolson Flopunkin is......I'm sorry, but that's the most adorable name I've ever heard. Did a Hello Kitty become President?
Herve: Focus, man!
Piett: What is this person doing now?
Rip Hunter: She is carving her face into Mt. Rushmore.
Piett: For....?
Rip Hunter: She just is. I presume she's done a good job.
Herve: That's not really maniacal at all.
Piett: And I can't see how Hitler being offed, along with all of Germany 40 years before his rise to power, could've prevented.....a rather ok administration.
Booster Gold: Well, she has maintained a remarkably sound budget for several years and lowered the unemployment rate quite a bit.
Rip Hunter: And she's a Chitauri.
Herve: A fucking Reptilian?!?! GNUGHHHHH!!!!!!
Booster Gold: You racist!
Piett: He does this.

[Herve grabs Piett's ray gun from his holster, opens up the time bubble, and fires a shot right at President Cicimitten Jolson Flopunkin

Piett: Ok, he doesn't usually do this.
Rip Hunter: What have you done?!?
Herve: I don't know, what have I done?

[Rip Hunter swears under his breath and activates the time bubble once more. Mere micro-nanoseconds later, they arrive a few weeks in the future, in the midst of a great air war. Giant zepplins and spacecraft battle flocks of heavenly angels. They descend  And atop a skyscraper rather close nearby, they eye The Boss, sitting in a lounge chair and sipping a cool mint julep as he lazily yet happily surveys the unholy carnage around him.]

Rip Hunter: What the HELL did you do?!
Herve: There's no evidence that I was the cause of this. Perhaps this was all according to the plan.
Piett: The plan?
Herve: Like the Battlestar Galactica Plan, but with a better ending.
Piett: I thought that ending was just fine. You're just repeating the picky people who didn't like it.

[Rip Hunter whispers something to Booster Gold and he flies off.]

Piett: Wait, he can fly.
Rip Hunter: Yes.
Piett: And I presume has weapons.
Rip Hunter: Yes.
Piett: Then why hasn't he done anything this entire time to stop the various bits of awfulness we've encountered?!
Rip Hunter: Sometimes we cannot interfere. He is the greatest hero you've never heard of, after all.
Piett: Is that a slight against him? Being obscure or something?
Rip Hunter: He came up with it, I just try to boost his confidence by helping propagate the idea that's he's really awesome. When he's really not.
Piett: You're cruel.

[Pause]

Herve: You do realize he's your dad, right?
Rip Hunter: What?!
Piett: Yeah. Even I knew that.
Herve: You'd think you'd have journeyed to the realities where you're actually fictional characters published in comic books and read up on this shit.
Rip Hunter: I.....he.....but....
Piett: We done fucked this man up, son.
Herve: It doesn't work when you talk like that, dude.
Piett: Blast.

[Booster Gold flies back up to the time bubble.]

Booster Gold: Holy hell, those people are pissed.
Rip Hunter: So, did you get a newspaper.....Booster?
Piett: Wait, so in the middle of all this.....madness, you think they'd still be publishing newspapers that would be accurately detailing the origins of this holy war?!

[Booster Gold hands the newspaper to Piett.]

Piett: Well fuck my butt and call me Sally Sue.
Rip Hunter: Shut up and read, Sally Sue.

[Booster Gold and Piett look at Rip Hunter.]

Rip Hunter: I'm just calling him the girly name, calm down.
Piett: So it seems the assassination of President Cicimitten Jolson Flopunkin [aside] hey, he finally performed a legit assassination, good for him [resumes reading] caused a riotous people of Earth to declare war on Heaven. [pause] Seems they blamed the [clears throat as he quotes] "insidious blast from on high on an angry, vengeful and obviously white human God." So Earth and Chitauri allies from across the cosmos declared war on God, and God reacted by declaring war on Earth and damn near all of creation. [looks around] You'd think He would just blink it all out of existance, but instead He goes for the hordes of archangels descending on and annihilating his creations motif. I'm sure we have an old chum who would be amused by this, Herv......Herve?!

[Piett looks around and sees that Herve has leapt from the time bubble to a nearby rooftop, where Piett is rather surprised to see said old chum: the Boss. He embraces Herve and the two share a toast to the downfall of Heaven and humanity alike.]

The Boss: Another mint julep for me and my old friend here.
Graham: Yes sir.
Herve: So you actually believe me?!
The Boss: Of course. That was totally a you thing to do, Herve. [puts his arm around him proudly] I always knew I liked you the best.

[Back in the bubble, silence and a long pause before anything is said.]

Rip Hunter: We can just go back in time and avoid all this, and take out Al Gore and his crazy Ice Age plan alone.
Booster Gold: Would you believe me if I was thinking the same thing.
Rip Hunter: I actually would. Let's do this.....dad.
Piett and Booster: Wait, wha--

[With a forceful kick, Rip Hunter boots Piett in the ass and he falls from the time bubble, which instantly vanishes, leaving their former companions stranded in this war-ravaged reality. Piett falls, but is caught by a giant and fiery baseball catcher's mitt. The mitt carries him to the safety of the skyscraper where The Boss and Herve sip on their fine mint juleps.]

Piett: A giant catcher's mitt?
The Boss: It's a Green Lantern thing. Only it doesn't suck. In more ways than one.
Herve: That's a particular kind of comic book humor. See, it's abound throughout this adventure.
Piett: I know. You do realize we're all dead soon, yes?
Herve: Wha?
Piett: Hunter and Booster are going back to prevent meeting us and undoing everything that's led human history to this particular series of events, so all this will never exist and this adventure and these versions of ourselves will be erased forever.
The Boss: Or maybe this is the creation of a new aspect of the multiverse? [pause] Good grief, how do you people deal with all this nonsense?
Piett: Liquor.
The Boss: Ah.
Herve: What are they gonna do, move a few feet to the left and we emerge in the middle of the Continuum?
The Boss: They're gonna commit suicide.
Piett: Doubtful. It's probably what Herve said.
The Boss: No. I mean, they're gonna commit suicide. I can do that. [closes eyes, thinks] They're dead. See? Problem solved.
Piett: That seems cheap.
Herve: Have you been paying attention to anything we do?
Piett: Even still. Hey, can I have a mint julep?
Herve: I have a feeling you'll hold out on me, so I say no.
Graham: But I already made him one.
The Boss [sternly]: That sounds like a nice thing to do, Graham.

[Graham instantly panics and throws the mint julep in Piett's face.]

The Boss: Not bad.

[Graham panics again and kicks Piett in the dick.]

The Boss: No, I didn't mean "not bad" like....[starts laughing].....dammit, I'm giving you a raise, Graham.
Graham: Finally, a payday.
Herve: Best day. EVER. [takes out camera phone, clicks picture]
Piett: Fuck you all!!!

[Piett barfs and The Boss, Herve and even Graham share a laug--