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.
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