CCC&S 2 – The Greatest Adventure Ever Told (7/7)

They watched the monkeys closely. That was their mistake. The monkeys had been an obvious distraction from the true assault force. From behind them they heard a cry. It was THE Dragon and C-9!

THE Dragon: Watch out!

Turning quickly they saw the threat. Creeping at them from all around were Mimes! Scores upon scores of Mimes!

And so… As the Trio are now reunited (THE Dragon, Vindicator, Tito, Trauma, Goliath and C-9) The direction of this story by no means any closer to being concluded or understood.

The battle raged… and the Mimes swarmed the adventures, and monkeys kept dropping beer bottles. Of course Trauma and Tito were faring much better then the others. However, these Mimes seemed to be unaffected by conventional physical beatings. In the distance a Mime made a motion like he was throwing a lasso. Moments later THE Dragon was roped and being dragged.

Vindicator was suddenly hit by an idea. Getting back to his feet and brushing off the coat, he frustratedly tossed the damnable scarf over his shoulder.

Reaching into his gymbag… digging past the towel, binaca and inflatable helicopter he pulled out several large…. fish! Tossing them to others they commenced in a counter strike that drove the Mimes fleeing into the woods. Running out of beer bottle, the monkeys also retreated. But not before pulling THE Dragon away at the end of an invisible rope.

Vindicator: We gotta rescue him!

A long silent pause…

Trauma : Why?

Another long silent pause…

Vindicator: I don’t have any answer to that.

[writer: TRAUMA – Orange pop… my ass!]

Tito: “Well how do you propose to rescue him?”

The Vindicator: “We could start by running after him.”

Trauma: “There’s a certain undeniable logic to that.”

The Vindicator: “Shall we then?”

There were several grunts and nods… Someone even said “Sure.” And the chase was on… The Vindicator, Goliath and Trauma were running at a good pace. Tito was trotting along behind in a jaunty fashion so as not to scuff his boots.

They crossed over a small ridge and stumbled into a large clearing. At the centre was THE Dragon, apparently tied to an invisible tree with an invisible rope. The Vindicator scanned the area, but saw nothing… Nonetheless, he was concerned…. This was too easy. Trauma took a step forward, then another… and another… Then he stopped rather abruptly and said “Ouch!”

He had apparently bumped his nose on an invisible shield. He turned around and started to walk back to the group when he bumped his nose again. He threw up his arms, but they were stopped dead about 2 inches above his head.

Trauma: “AAAAAAA!”

Goliath: “What’s going on?”

The Vindicator: “Sweet Koresh! I think he’s trapped in an invisible box! The mimes must still be in the vicinity!”

Just then Tito emerged from the trees behind them…

Tito: “I’d have been here sooner, but I love my boots! What’s Trauma doing?”

The Vindicator: “He’s stuck inside an invisible box.”

Tito: “Those Mime Bastards!”

Several mimes emerged from the circling trees and started annoying the Trio(?). One of them came right up to them and started climbing an imaginary rope. These mimes were bold indeed! C-9 started to short-circuit, and Goliath looked like he would soon follow suit. Tito, realizing that he’d dropped his fish, decided that a strategic retreat was in order.

The Vindicator, in a flash of inspiration, pulled a pair of scissors from his bag and cut the invisible rope from which the mime was hanging. The mime fell to his death. The other mimes saw this and gasped. They regrouped and prepared for the second wave of the attack…

[writer: The Vindicator – Damn this is a handy Gym-Bag!]

And so the situation was grave for our heroes. The Mimes, their morale restored by their leader’s pep-mime, surged forward in a new assault. However, just to be on the safe side, a couple of big burly mime apprentices dragged off THE Dragon out of sight.

Trauma was caught in a Mime cage and could not move. Vindicator, Goliath and Tito bravely crashed against the line of Mimes, thrashing them with an assortment of fish that were conveniently lying around. Vindicator gleefully brandished a pair of Mack(eral)-10’s. Goliath was enjoying limited success with his all-porpoise assault dolphin, not realizing that it was a mammal and not a fish but still being effective on several mimes who didn’t know it either. Naturally, it was Tito who was doing the most damage. He masterfully employed a Louisville-Salmon which he wielded with both hands.

While Vindicator and Goliath were slowly wearing down the Mime attackers, it was Tito who cut a swath of destruction into the flank of the Mimes. Mimes fell like wheat before a scythe and he penetrated deep into the ranks of Mimes in a cloud of dust and face makeup. In the cloud of dust it soon became hard to see. He swung at what appeared to be a silhouette (sp?) of a Mime but which wasn’t. The salmon flew from his grasp (damn Crisco).

The dust was beginning to clear and Tito could see several new forms cautiously approaching. He had to think fast. Pulling out his supply of Crisco, he applied a liberal dose on his face and hands to make himself appear to be wearing makeup and gloves. By now the dust had cleared and about 2 dozen elite mimes that had been held in reserve approached him. They looked suspiciously at the unarmed Tito but were uncertain. Tito quickly lapsed into the Mime classic “Man Walking Against the Wind” and successfully threw suspicion off of himself.

Tito gestured off in a direction still partially obscured by the dust and the Mimes surged off into the cloud. Fortunately for our heroes, the Mimes stumbled off a conveniently placed sheer cliff and, since the ones in front did not vocalize the peril to their comrades behind them, they all obediently marched off the cliff and plummeted to the ground to suffer agonizingly slow deaths.

The few remaining mimes fighting Vindicator and Goliath saw these losses and quickly fled in silent terror.

The danger now having passed, the Trio considered the problem of how to release Trauma from the invisible cage. For his part, Trauma had contributed absolutely nothing to the battle but had merely tipped the cage over in trying to reach his sack of poppies that was just out of reach.

[writer: -Tito]

Feeling extremely foolish, Tito, Vindicator and Goliath hefted the Mime cage and Trauma along with to an up-right position.

Now came the hard part. How to get him out of the box? They stood in silence contemplating the idea.

Vindicator : You know… We could just leave him in there.

Of course, this was absolutely not even remotely possible because of Trauma’s vast importance in the story. Besides, Vindicator came to his senses and figured that if Trauma survived, he would more than likely not.

Tito : I have an idea.

Moments latter, they had pushed the cage to the edge of the sheer cliff (Kurt) and poised it for the fall. Trauma of course was defiantly screaming in terror as he so desperately wished he had some tin foil.

Vindicator : If this doesn’t work?

Tito : (waving his hand and nodding to signify his confidence) Don’t worry.. it will.

Goliath : Look! (pointing at Trauma) Whats he doing?

Vindicator : Looks like he’s miming something.

Tito : What’s he miming besides begging us not to attempt this stupid and dangerous stunt.

Vindicator : I think that’s exactly what he’s miming!

With no further ado… the mime box fell over the edge and crashed onto the bodies of dozens of dead mimes. It was still intact.

Tito : Guess it didn’t work.

Vindicator : How do we get down there?

Tito : (waving his hand and nodding to signify his confidence) Don’t worry…

Goliath was getting extremely bored… he was continuously being distracted. As Tito and Vindicator discussed the details of Tito’s plan. Goliath heard squeaking off in the distance. Through the trees he made out the form of a man wearing black and pushing what appeared to be a large cart. His interest getting the better of him, he wandered off after the man. As he got closer he noticed that the man was wearing a black hood with horns and a pair of goat skin leggings. Also the cart was actually a stone altar with four mix-matched wheels (baby carriage, Hyundai pony, a skateboard, and a broken ski) Goliath was compelled to follow this man… and so he did.

(So ends Goliath’s adventure (for now)… He will return later as always to join a new adventure.)

[writer: TRAUMA – Anton.]

Returning to the conundrum which was currently plaguing our hero’s…

The Vindicator rummaged through his bag and, grinning, pulled out a long cord which he and Tito used to rappel down the cliff (Kurt) face. Once they reached the bottom, Tito felt the sides of the box, but found no openings… It was evidently a strong box.

“This is evidently a strong box.”, said Tito, redundantly.

A look of stern concentration crossed The Vindicator’s face… There was an idea forming in there somewhere… Suddenly, there was a loud “ding” and a broad grin crossed The Vindicator’s face!

The Vindicator: “Eureka!”

Tito: “I will not be pulled into that old joke!”

The Vindicator reached into his pocket and pulled out a rather large hole, which he then attached to the side of the box. Trauma was greatly relieved at this because, while it was not quite large enough for him to crawl through, it did permit him to start breathing again (which he did with vigor).

As the bluish tinge left Trauma’s face The Vindicator offered a suggestion.

The Vindicator: “Now that there is a hole in the box, perhaps it will weaken the box enough so that it will break this time if we drop it again.”

Tito: “Works for me.”

Trauma (who could now be heard) began to whimper and gibber and hyper-ventilate and do several other things all at once. Tito ascended the cliff (Kurt) and The Vindicator tied the rope around the box. Once secured, Tito pulled the box back up the cliff (Kurt) and, with a broad grin on his face, dropped it off the edge of the cliff (Kurt) once again.

Had he been asked, Trauma couldn’t have commented on the fact that he was currently accelerating at a rate of 9.6 metres/second per second (yes, that is the correct formula), but he certainly appreciated the effect of smashing into the ground. The invisible box shattered and millions of invisible shards could be heard smashing into billions of smaller invisible shards against the rocks. Trauma stood up (a little dazed, but alive) and merely said “Skiddlily Wah-wah!”

Black Widow walked by, said “Hello.” and continued to walk by, cuz she asked for a cameo.

[writer: The Vindicator – Have you filled out your registration card?]

Standing tied to the invisible tree with invisible rope, THE Dragon looked grim. He kept thinking to himself “I’ll make them pay…make them ALL PAY!” To whom he meant, no one could be sure.

THE Dragon: Hey guys! Get yer butts over here and mime untying me!

Vindicator slapped his forehead. “Of course!” He started walking towards THE Dragon but Tito stopped him.

Vindicator: What?

Tito: I’m in command here! Not chump tied to the no-tree!

Vindicator: Oh..sorry.

Tito: Get your butt over there and mime untying him!

Soon THE Dragon and C-9 were free. Now to get Trauma back up the Cliff(kurt).

Vindicator: Shall we just pull him up with the rope?

Tito: No. That’s too easy. lemme think a bit….

Everyone ducked.

Tito: I got it! Get me that invisible rope!

They searched around the immediate area but could not seem to find the invisible rope. They decided not to tell Trauma and fake it. They shouted down to Trauma and mimed and idea of climbing using the invisible rope. Trauma nodded and mimed the catching of the rope, then made his trek up the cliff(Kurt). Upon reaching the top he breathed a sigh of relief.

Trauma: Thanks guys.

C-9: Incredible.

Trauma: I know.

They all looked towards the Greenish city and decided that’s where they should go. THE Dragon looked around and picked up a solid-looking stick for a club and started tapping it in his hand, all the while muttering “They’ll pay…all of them…”

Vindicator: What’s he saying?

Trauma: I think he’s read the Punisher Chapter in that book of his…

Vindicator just raised an eyebrow and they started their journey to the greenish city….

And so past fields and meadows and sunny valleys they trudged. Far behind them the small village of midgets and their damaged TARDIS. Somehow they all seemed to sense the end, and it lies withing the emerald city. They walked on silently, reflecting on their past adventurers, distant and more recent. Soon they would be going home.

In the epic origins of these Adventures it had been Trauma and Tito, blazing a path through time and folklore. Becoming legends from the day they walked down that wind-swept street, on that dark and stormy night. Accompanied by various adventurers; Goliath, Pelane, Buster Bunny… Facing demons in subterranean realms, falling through the blackness of time to face the ghosts of Christmas, and travel to the ends of space as space pirates.

In time new adventurers came forth; Vindicator, Dragon and Blade… they battled societies greatest obstacles and England’s most dastardly heroes and villains. Now they have hurtled through time and space to arrive at Oz. Their journey is almost at an end…

In no time the Trio of four adventurers plus their mechanical chicken C-9 arrived at the gates. A commotion behind the gates stopped them in their tracks. Swinging inward, a gruff voice shouted. “… and stay out you wide-eyed, slack-jawed bowery-bum wanna be!” And with a mighty punt out bounced Blade! (hows that for our second cameo?)

[writer: TRAUMA – Tito… you have the floor.]

[ Ok, here’s the conclusion (and it’s a whopper) ]

After only enough time to briefly exchange greetings, the munchkin Stasi quickly hustles Blade out of the Emerald City.

Now the Trio stood before the great portals of the magnificent palace of the Wizard.

Their breathing quickened in anticipation of everything being put right by the beneficent Wizard. Could this be, at long last, the conclusion of their incredible odyssey that spanned space, time and even across dimensions? Would the Wizard decide to help these intrepid adventurers, who, at the cruel hands of Fate, have had every means of returning home thwarted, and every path strewn with perilous obstacles? Will the peace and sanctuary of home that has been for so long so elusive finally be theirs to enjoy again? Read on, dear readers, for herein these questions shall be answered.

The Trio, including Tito, Trauma, Vindicator, THE Dragon and C-9, stepped toward the gates of the palace when suddenly, they swung open again.

A wagon pulled by a team of white horses sped down the street out of the city. The wagon was itself a large cage and within was a very irate Vladimir Zhirinovsky.

He shook his fist toward the interior of the palace and cursed loudly,”…you bastards! I’ve been thrown out of better places. I’ll nuke you and your little dog, too!”

His ranting did not stop there, but were clearly audible until he was finally out of sight,” I’ll fix all of you midgets. I won’t even drop a single bomb. I’ll just bury all the radioactive waste along the border and then I’ll build huge fans and…” – beyond this, Zhirinovsky’s voice become inaudible.

Intrepidly, our heroes approached the doors of the palace. Instantly they found their way blocked by a dozen finely uniformed munchkin guards.

“Halt, tall, stupid hooligans!” ordered their leader.

In a flurry of motion, Trauma, Tito, THE Dragon and even C-9 were suddenly bristling with weapons, ready for combat. Even C-9 had a retractable gatling-gun turret installed by Vindicator.

Vindicator jumped between the belligerent parties and calmed his friends down,” wait guys, let’s not blow our chance to get out of here. There are also peaceful ways to solve our problems.”

THE Dragon sensed the superiority of this course of action and lowered his yoga-charged arms peacefully. Tito and Trauma were less conciliatory.

“No way,” said Tito.

“Don’t wanna,” reinforced Trauma.

“I get the feeling that you don’t want to end the story with gunplay. I refuse to let it be avoided,” said Tito, crossing his arms stubbornly.

The pair stood sulkingly and adhered to their stubbornness, their weapons still poised for the mass carnage to which they were committed.

“I’ll give you some gruel-flavoured pez from my Freddy Krueger pez-dispenser,” tempted Vindicator.

“Okay,” said Tito and Trauma, lowering their modern implements of destruction.

The munchkins, of course, were not in the least intimidated. Their leader, emboldened by the apparent cowardice of the Trio spoke again,” <SNIFF> Hey, men, I think I smell tall people.”

His comrades laughed while the Trio stood in disbelief. THE Dragon spoke to them, “Was that your best attempt at an insult? Geez, you midgets really ARE lame.”

This blistering verbal assault shut the munchkin guards up.

“Okay, enough of this,” said Trauma,” we want to see the Wizard.”

A panel on the gate opened up to reveal the face of an older munchkin. He spoke:”Someone wishes to see the wizard?”

“Yes we do,” said Trauma.

“Get a haircut, you wild-eyed, slack-jawed bowery bum wannabe,” was the eloquent response.

“Get out of the way,” pushed in Vindicator,” let me handle this.”

“Wait,” he said,” we must see him. He is the only one who can get us home.”

“Tough-titties,” the munchkin replied.

Vindicator continued unperturbed,” Our Tardis broke down and we-”

“A Tardis you say?” interrupted the munchkin, “Well no thanks, you see, we already got one.”

Some snickering was heard beyond the door.

“What?” asked Vindicator.

Dragon answered,”He says they’ve already got one.”

Tito stepped up, “Well, great, do you think you guys could give us a lift then?”

“Of course not, you are a pack of escaped circus freaks. Besides, you’re all foreigners you silly tall dregs of freakdom!” was the reply.

This munchkin was clearly much better at insults.

THE Dragon had a momentary premonition of the Trio being crushed under  a catapulted cow. Whether this was another mystical Yoga power or just the ability to spot cheap ripoffs of movies he had seen, he knew he must act on the knowledge gained.

He stepped up to the door and spoke, “We are emissaries that have travelled far in order to secure markets for our most important commodity.”

“And what is that?” asked the munchkin.

Taking one of the canisters of Crisco fixed to the bandolier across Tito’s chest, he held it up to the munchkin and said, “It’s our miracle lotion that when rubbed on the limbs and neck of a midge- er uh, altitudinally challenged individual and it will begin to promote growth within days.”

“Oh boy, let me see it,” said the gatekeeper reaching for it.

“Not so fast,” replied THE Dragon, pulling it away,” if we can’t arrange a trade agreement, we’ll need this to sell for a ether-hound ticket back home.”

Momentarily the gates swung open and Dragon presented the canister to the munchkin.

“Okay, I’ll take you to him,” he said, ushering the heroes to an elevator while feverishly applying Crisco to his neck.

“Oooh,” he said to THE Dragon as the elevator ascended, “I can feel it working.”

Presently, the Trio were ushered into a great hall at the top of the emerald tower. At the far end of the hall, bathed in a green sunlight filtered through the emerald domed ceiling, was a magnificent throne. Seated in the throne was none other than JOHN WAYNE. He was fully dressed in cowboy duds and had his pair of hoglegs at his sides.

He spoke,” I hear you pilgrims’ve been looking for me. Well… here I am.”

“It’s the Duke,” the heroes exclaimed.

“Hey, we’re some of your biggest fans,” said Trauma.

“Not so fast, Cochise. You can’t go around my kingdom slappin’ around my subjects and wrecking haciendas like liquored up Pawnee Injuns and ‘spect me to forget all about it. At least you did crush the power of those goddamned mimes so I guess I’ll let you off and give you guys a wish,” said the Duke.

“One wish each?” asked Tito.

“No, you greedy bushwacker. One for all of you.” said the Duke.

“Ok, we wish for 10 more wishes,” tried THE Dragon.

“Why I oughtta… NO! and it wasn’t even a nice try you lousy snake-oil peddler.”

“Ok, we just wanna get home.” said Vindicator.

“Is that what you all want?” asked the Duke. The others nodded in agreement.

“Good,I was going to kick you all out anyway but now I save having to give a wish. All you have to do to get home is cross that bridge out there,” he said pointing to a rope bridge spanning a patio over a deep crevice.

As they moved to the bridge, Trauma again tried to speak to the Duke, “I’ve seen almost all of your movies-”

“No chitchat, now git before I change my mind,” said the Duke.

The party trudged slowly across the bridge that spanned the gorge. The depths below were concealed by mists. Across the bridge, however was a sight that amazed them. There was a magnificent city of mansions with gold paved rooftops. Lamborghinis, Ferraris and Maseratis lined the streets and scantily clad beautiful women waved and beckoned the Trio over.

“Hehe,” chuckled Tito, “I think the Duke is a nice guy after all. I think he screwed up, but what the hell, this is better.”

“I bet the Duke did this on purpose to reward us,” suggested THE Dragon,” I guess he is a good guy.”

The heroes quickened their pace over the bridge in anticipation of the lives of leisure and ridiculous luxury that awaited them.

However, when they were half-way across the bridge, they heard John Wayne shout, “Ok, boys, cut the lines!” and with that the scene ahead suddenly changed as the mass hologram was switched off. All that lay on the other side was a bleak barren outcropping with a dozen munchkins poised over the lines of the bridge with axes. The Trio attempted to run and fire at them but to no avail. The heroes fell from the collapsing bridge and plummeted into the mists below.

“The Duke’s an Asshole.” exclaimed Vindicator.

“A-S-S-H-O-L-E, he’s an asshole!” chimed in Tito and Trauma as they fell. Their equipment slipped from their grasps as well as much of their equipment.

The party fell for what seemed an eternity. They had almost gotten used to the feeling of weightlessness when suddenly they landed heavily on the respective lawns in front of their homes. As their homes were spread across Burlington and Hamilton, they were out of sight of each other. Each was alone. Eventually they came to and found that no bones had been broken since they landed on snowbanks. Each got up and tried to locate first his weapons and then his friends. To no avail, however, none of their precious hardware was recovered and even C-9 had not fallen with anyone. All of the fantastic possessions were gone and our heroes only had what they had started with plus one minor memento of their great fantastic voyage.

Vindicator found a small paper bag. Opening it, he found jelly-babies and without thinking, he ate them all up before realizing they were his only proof of his trip. “At least I still have the bag,” he said just before a gust blew it from his hand and down the street.

THE Dragon found a back-scratcher inscribed withÿ”To reach the places even Yoga cannot reach. He used it to scratch his back and instantly it snapped into tiny slivers of worthless plastic. Shoddy munchkin workmanship, you know.

Trauma had a great prize. He found a t-shirt that had a map of their trip and said,” I went through space, time and even dimensions and all I got was this crummy shirt,” He quickly ran to show his still sleeping parents (it was now dawn) unfortunately he slipped on some ice and landed in a slush puddle of semi-melted snow. When he got up he saw that the dye used in the shirt was so cheap it was watersoluble,and the map and inscription was irrevocably washed away.

Tito picked up a shiny object half buried in the snow. It turned out to be a water filled glass globe with a depiction of the emerald city where one could simulate snowstorms. Tito looked at it contemptuously and dashed it on the street, smashing it while saying, “What is this? Faggot shit?”

And so, our heroes made it home and miraculously made it on the dawn following their first night of adventure where they hopped aboard the freight train. They had not lost more than an evening and were not frightened from future such trips.

><><><><>THE END<><><><><

Well there you have it. For all the fans out there… this has been a very interesting tale. THE GREATEST ADVENTURE EVER TOLD maybe concluded, but we are far from finished.

[writer: TRAUMA – Groovy, 10/03/94]

CCC&S 2 – The Greatest Adventure Ever Told (6/7)

The Vindicator reached for the controls but not before the Tardis was surrounded by a bunch of lazy, slack-lipped grease-balls who started to tip what they perceived as a funny looking outhouse. Inside Vindicator was momentarily startled and lost his balance and hit a large red button that said “Obliterate”. Silence rung the skies. Time seemed to stand still, colour seemed to drain from the very reality of their beings and there was a bright flash of energy on the view screen. In the next moment, when the smoke cleared, the Cube was gone.

Tito(struck to utter amazement): Duhh, duhh….I LIKE IT!!!!

Trauma: I’m impressed!

Vindicator: That could come in handy.

THE Dragon: My, my…wasn’t that pretty.

Tito: Can we go to Disneyland now? Pleeeeeease???!!!

C-9: Umm guys…take a close look outside…

The view screen now showed an odd anomaly. Like looking into a mirror that had a mirror in front of it, the fabric os space/time seemed to have been pierced multiple times and they could see through an infinity of realities.

Trauma: now what? We have a straight doorway to just about anyplace without random button punching. I say we go for it.

Vindicator: We just punched a hole through the entire multi-verse and you want to go explore?!

Trauma: Well…yes.

Vindicator: Oh…ok…let’s go.

So, slipping through the first layer of punched space, they ended up where no man(or chicken….or Dragon) has ever gone before…..

[writer: DRAGON!!!]

Passing the first layer was extremely painful. The shock to their system was more than they could handle, and they collapsed onto the floor of the TARDIS. THE Dragon pulled himself to his feet. The TARDIS was dark and only he and C-9 where their. The view screen was also effected by the power loss and so he had to leave the TARDIS to see where he was. C-9 rolled out after him.

It was beautiful sunny day and all around him was a small village. No one was about. He did notice however that the TARDIS was slightly tilted, which means they landed on something. Walking around the TARDIS he saw what it was. A pair of feet were sticking out from under the TARDIS. They had a pair of Koala Bear slippers on the them. Scattered around where pamphlets and flyers which read “Watch Tower”.

From behind him he heard a high squeaky voice say, “You killed him.”

THE Dragon spun around quickly to see an entire mob of midgets. His first instinct was to scream out a battle cry and thrash them all using C-9 as a blunt instrument. But he choose not to.

Midget: You killed him! Hurray! You killed the Jehovah’s Witness!

Before he could say anything, the crowd hefted him and C-9 over their heads and carried them into the village. Singing, “Ding Dong, The Jehovah is dead! The Jehovah is dead! The Jehovah is dead!”

He was about to confess that it was all an accident and he never intended to kill anyone, but decided he would milk this saps for all this was worth!

Suddenly out of the sky appeared Glenda, the Good Slut of the North! It was a joyous day for all the midgets when she arrived. Eyeing him up and down, she licked her lips. However, being repulsive, THE Dragon cringed.

Glenda: You saved the Midgets!

Mayor: Hey! How many times do I have to tell ya, we don’t like to be called midgets!?

Glenda: Oh.. alright. You saved the ‘Vertically Challenged’!

Everyone cheered! Glenda pinched THE Dragon’s bum!

Mayor: Is there anything we can do for you?

THE Dragon: Well… yes there is. I lost my friends and, it seems that my TARDIS is busted.

Mayor: To find your friends…

Someone else: … you must follow the yellow brick road…

Someone else: … follow the yellow brick road…

Someone else: … follow the yellow brick road…

Mayor: … and then go to the Emerald City and find the Wizard…

Someone else: … yes! find the Wizard! He can help you.

Glenda goosed THE Dragon again.

Glenda: But first you must take these magical Koala bear slippers. And never take them off. Or they will get you.

THE Dragon: They? Who are they?

Glenda: Why the Jehovah’s of course!

Putting on the slippers, THE Dragon was on his way to find his friends. And the Emerald City…..

[writer: TRAUMA – Yup.]

So, THE Dragon slipped on the Koala slippers and he and Toto, er… C-9 began the long trek to the Emerald City.

They walked for several hours when they came upon a skinny black man dressed as a scarecrow. The scarecrow was dancing and yelling “Hee hee!” for no readily apparent reason.

“Who are you, and where are you going?” Inquired Dragon.

Scarecrow: “I’m Michael the scarecrow, and I’m going to see the Wiz!”

Dragon: “Blast him, C-9”

C-9: <Insert special effect here>

The scarecrow lay dead on the side of the yellow brick road. THE Dragon quickly rummaged through his pockets, found a few things and continued his journey.

Meanwhile, in another part of the land:

The Tardis materialized on the edge of a large field of poppies. The door opened and Trauma, The Vindicator and Tito stepped out. Trauma immediately began to gibber and Tito stripped down to his jockey’s and ran through the field yelling “I’m coming, generalissimo!”

Once The Vindicator managed to pry the tinfoil out of Trauma’s hands, he gathered up Tito’s clothes and convinced him to get dressed again. They were just getting their bearings and were about to begin looking for THE Dragon, when a small dude on a moped drove up and asked them if they had any grass.

The Vindicator: “You some kinda midget hippie?”

Midget Hippie: “We prefer the term ‘Altitudinally Challenged'”

The Vindicator: “I beg your pardon.”

Midget Hippie: “No problem, man! You got some grass?”

Trauma: “No, but we have some Crisco!”

Tito: “And Binaca!”

The midget, er… Altitudinally Challenged hippie pondered the situation and decided that he needed to ponder the situation further. So, he drove away in a cloud of altitudinally challenged dust.

As he drove off, an accuracy-impaired map fell out of his saddlebag. “This could be useful.”, thought The Vindicator and he grabbed the map.

The Vindicator: “Hey guys… According to this map, there’s a large green city about 12 miles to the east of here. Maybe Dragon is heading there!”

Trauma: “Your point?”

The Vindicator: “They probably have women there.”

Trauma: “What are you just sitting there for???”

So, they began the 12-mile trek to the Emerald City… They passed many wondrous things on the way… Much to wondrous to bother discussing in a story as informal as this one is. But I can tell you that they were sorely tempted to stop in at a theatre they passed along the way… The theatre was playing Dragon: The Liu Kang Story.

[writer: The Vindicator – Making up for his absence…]

As the Trio passed the theatre which was playing the Liu Kang Story, the front doors opened and a figure tumbled out into the street. The Trio walked over to see what was happening. As the party approached the man (not Altitudinally Challenged) got up and shouted into the theatre,” you’ll be sorry for this you little faggots. I’ve been thrown out of better theatres than this! I’ll nuke your stupid theatre till it glows!”

Tito exclaimed,” Wow! It’s Vladimir Zhirinovsky. Hey, I’m a huge supporter of yours and I’ve always wanted to meet you.”

Zhirinovsky replied,”Well naturally, who wouldn’t?”

Tito: “Of course, but please tell us what happened here.”

Zhirinovsky: “Well, you see, I was here on a diplomatic mission and I had some time to kill so I took in this movie. All I said was,” hey, that slant-eyed nip is pretty good. I bet he could kick the shit outta about 20 of you little midget bastards. Of course, any Russian could shitkick at least 50 of you dwarf freaks without breaking a sweat. Apparently, the fellow patrons of the theatre can’t take constructive criticism and they threw me out before I could put down my popcorn to thrash them.”

Tito: “How awful, we should go and torch the theatre down for that,”

Zhirinovsky: “Ah, they’ll get theirs. Now get outta my way, wop, I got an appointment with the Wizard” he said shoving Tito and with that he stormed off down the street.

Tito looked at his comrades and said,” Vladimir Zhirinovsky actually shoved me. What a great man!”

Vindicator found the episode amusing and decided to shove Tito as Vlad had done. Tito bared all his teeth and hissed, “Touch me again and I’ll keel you!”

With the excitement having passed the Trio continued on their way to the mysterious green city 12 miles away.

[writer: -Tito]

The Trio walked for a while longer until the road became more twisting and the foliage on the sides became denser with trees and shrubbery.

Trauma: So what is going on? are there actually two Tardis’ or what?

Vindicator: Well, yeah, Dragon has the other one which is probably somewhere nearby as well.

Tito: I don’t understand how we got separated in the first place. I thought we were together and maybe Dragon slipped out somewhere.

Vindicator: On the other hand, that might be what has happened.

Tito: This portal business wasn’t fully explained to me either. My brain still hurts.

Trauma: Why is it a portal? why don’t we just call it a door?

Vindicator: (amused by the ignorance of his comrades) Naturally it’s a portal. It’s always called a portal if it is a result of a rift in the time-space continuum.

Trauma: (searching his pockets for tinfoil and laughing hysterically) “Damn, where did I put my portable cheese grater?”

Tito: (stripping off his clothes and twitching maniacally) Is that poison ivy over there? How about there?

Vindicator regretted having said “rift in the time-space continuum” and quickly corrected himself, “Did I say rift in the time-space continuum? What I meant to say was it was a magic door”

Tito and Trauma: (calming down)…a magic door? huhuhuhu cool.

With that they continued. They didn’t get far, however, they stopped in their tracks when they heard a rustling in the bushes off to the right.

[writer: -Tito]

Now I’m sure that many of you were expecting THE Dragon to come bumbling out of the underbrush, and to be perfectly honest… That’s what our hero’s were expecting to see as well. That’s why they were stunned when the person they thought was THE Dragon turned out to be Goliath.

Goliath: “Hi!”

Trauma: “Where have YOU been???”

Goliath: “I think I got caught in some rupture in the space-time continuum… Either that or it’s just one of the many inconsistencies that plague the writers…”

The Vindicator: “Ah shit! You said space-time continuum!”

Trauma lay on the ground in the fetal position, gums bleeding and cheese grater in hand while Tito rolled around in the dirt asking various plants if they’d like to be friends with him. The Vindicator slapped his forehead, then decided to slap Goliath as well.

The Vindicator: “He meant magic door! Magic Door! Really!”

But it was no use… This time they’d really snapped. Words would not suffice this time. The Vindicator started rummaging through his gym-bag which he’d been carrying all the time, but was never actually mentioned.  He pushed aside some cherry Pez, binaca and searched under his inflatable helicopter… finally he pulled out a large blue & white plastic tub of Crisco which he smeared on Trauma and Tito’s gums.

As their respirations began to return to normal, and Tito (unsuccessful in convincing a single plant to be friends with him), The Vindicator politely requested that Goliath not mention portals, S/T continuum’s, colossal negative space wedgies or any other form of paranormal phenomena.

The Vindicator: “So just cut it out, cheesehead!” he said to Goliath.

Goliath: “Can I tell them about the chocolate house I saw over the next ridge?”

[writer: The Vindicator & Gretel.]

The Trio (note capital must be used since there are 4 members) continued on their way and sure enough, over the next hill there was a house built entirely of chocolate and candy of all kinds. The party descended upon it like locusts and began to munch on it immediately. After half an hour they lay on the grass bloated with the sweets they had consumed and not feeling all too well. Tito was exacerbating the situation with one of his anecdotes:

Tito: You know, this reminds of the time I was stranded in Port Said (that’s “Sa-EED”) with two drachmas to my name. I couldn’t get in the famed Kit Kat Klub known as far away as Madagascar. Boy was I red-faced, and I didn’t know why, you see, I still had a handful of walnuts an-

Vindicator: How is your story at all related to our present situation?

Tito: Did I say it was related?

Trauma and Vindicator and Goliath: Yes!

Tito: Uh, my mistake, forget it.

The hard-earned silence was not to last, however, as a roar erupted from the bushes behind the house. The party staggered to their feet and faced the bushes in a unified front.

A voice from the bushes said, “You’ve eaten from my chocolate house, now I’m going to eat all of you. Say your prayers.”

Trauma: (whispering) Oh great Axl in heaven, give me guidance in this, a dark hour in my life…(and out loud) Want some, get some!

Goliath: You’re gonna suffer, punk!

Vindicator: Ditto!

Tito: What? (still some Crisco in his ears)

The next thing they saw was the owner of the voice, a lion come out of the bushes and throw himself at the feet of the party begging for mercy.

“OOOOOH, you scared me,” he said,” I wasn’t going to hurt you, anyway.”

Goliath helped the lion to his feet (they were both bipedal) and calmed him down. The lion told the party his story:

Cowardly Lion: I was a good king of the jungle but I don’t have any courage. I really need courage. Do you know where I can get some?

Trauma:(distracting the lion) Uh sure, back home we have a place called Seven-Eleven, it’s got everything, I had one excellent slushie there.

All this allowed Tito to get out of the lion’s field of view. In a few moments Tito was behind the lion with his nickel-plated, sawed-off shotgun poised. He raised it and he blew off the lion’s face with a healthy (or unhealthy) dose of buckshot.


Trauma:(gnawing on barbecued ribs) That lion said he needed courage, I say all he needed was some salt.

Tito: I still prefer roast baby seal or koala bear stew.

Goliath: Or dolphin fishsticks.

Vindicator: Mmmm, I can almost smell the aroma of charred koala bear fur – we leave it on when we cook as a source of fibre.

And so, we leave our beloved heroes at their idyllic campfire where they spent the night dreaming of gourmet meals and loose women. The following morning they awoke refreshed and were ready to continue their quest.

[writer: -Tito]

Pocketing a handy Swiss Army knife he found on the scare crow (and a check for 30 million for some kid) off he was chasing the toad that was almost out of sight.

Cresting a hill he came upon a wondrous sight. There before him lay a valley of immense beauty and vastness with a bright green city in its midst.

THE Dragon: Gee….that looks like a stop light colour.

C-9: Emerald.

THE Dragon: I knew that!

They headed off into the Valley and soon chanced upon a slender being with pointed ears.

Elf: Omy Gods! Just WHAT do we have heeere? Aren’t you just the cutest thing to this Valley!

THE Dragon(whispered to C-9): Be careful, this is a Valley Elf. Got a spoon handy?

C-9: Spoon?

THE Dragon: To gag her with! Sigh…never mind. (To Elf) I say! You are just the bodacious babe in these woods! You must be excited eh?


With a swiftness that belied his clumsiness, THE Dragon whipped out that ever-so-handy Swiss Army Knife, flicked out the spoon portion and gaged the Elf with it. After a few minutes of helpless struggle, the Valley Elf sigh and gurgled her last word “omygod”.

THE Dragon: I really hated doing that, but it was either me or her.

C-9 was appalled at this mild-mannered cross-dresser turned hard-core soldier of mishap. What ever happened to the quite little man he once knew… mebbe the good people of this world knew, mebbe it was the Koala Slippers, or mebbe this was natural…..hopefully there would be someone in that green city….

[writer: DRAGON!!!]


The Trio, consisting of one more person then the word “Trio” would seem to indicate, continued to the city.

Vindicator looked at the quite Trauma, walking several paces behind them. He was deep in concentration looking into his ever-present satchel.

Vindicator: What ya got there?

Trauma : (looking up at Vindicator) Poppies.

Vindicator: Poppies?

Trauma : A whole bunch…

Vindicator: What in Koresh’s Name are you gonna do with those?

Trauma : I’m gonna make me some opium. Yes I am. (smiling like an idiot)

Vindicator: (shaking his head in disbelief) You are an idiot.

Vindicator caught up to Tito and Goliath. Too the side of the road, hidden by foliage, Tito spotted something metallic. Motioning to the rest of the group they devised a plan and rushed into the wooded copse. To their unexpected joy… they had successfully surprised a rusted, motionless Tin-Man! After a round of congratulatory handshakes, they turned their attention back to the momentarily forgotten Tin-Man.

Tito and Vindicator stood in front of it, trying to figure out what exactly it was. Goliath was relieving himself in a nearby juniper bush.

Tito : Is it alive?

Vindicator: It’s hard to say. But I do believe so.

Tito : What should we do?

But before Vindicator could answer, over to the Tin-Man’s right blind side came a battle cry. Trauma had successfully moved in behind with his Louisville poised. Attacking the defenseless Tin-Man, Trauma in a flurry of swings dented and dismembered the once standing and living (now very much dead) Tin-Man.

Vindicator: What did you do that for? (yelling frantically)

Tito : Yeah… we still have left overs from that lion.

Trauma : (shrugging) I was feeling tense. Besides I didn’t like the way he was looking at us.

[writer: TRAUMA – rolling… rolling… rolling through the story.]

The Vindicator sat down (a fair distance from the now dead juniper bushes) and pondered the situation. First… There was an inconsistency in the euphemism used to describe the group. Second… He had a gibbering, half-mad junkie who could bench-press him without breaking a sweat. Third… Tito apparently had the ability to produce a toxic liquid that could kill plant life on contact (maybe some of the plants should have agreed to become friends with him). Fourth… Goliath kept popping in and out of the story through that damnable “Magic Door”. And finally, Fifth… THE Dragon & C-9 were still nowhere to be found.

It was some time before The Vindicator roused himself from his contemplation, and by this time Tito and Trauma had successfully converted the corpse of the Tin Man into a pair of shiney belt-buckles, 2 sheriff’s badges and 2 pairs of spurs for their boots.

Trauma was leaning against a tree tapping a bottle of Labbat ’50 against his new belt-buckle.

The Vindicator: “Trauma! Where’d you get that beer???”

Trauma: “One of the monkey’s circling above us dropped it.”

The Vindicator looked up… Sure enough, a flock of flying monkeys were circling about 50 feet above them. Goliath narrowly avoided getting shat on by one of the beasts and he immediately began chucking rocks at them…

[writer: The Vindicator – I should have given ya an Orange POP!]

CCC&S 2 – The Greatest Adventure Ever Told (5/7)

Immediately following the carnage, our heroes looked around the room.  Sputtering wires and twitching forms made the only sound. THE Dragon deciding to use table cloth as a toga, made his way to the chicken wire fence and pulled down the now one-winged C-9.

Whiskey Jack and Stompin’ Tom apparently bailed before the explosion.  Picking their way across the floor, (and Tito picking his way through pockets, looted the bodies as thoroughly as possible.) The Adventurers came up beside THE Dragon.

Suddenly as whining sound, similar to that of the TARDIS‘ dematerialize sound started. Startled they drew their weapons and aimed in the general area of the sound.

Fading into existence was a large bass! A few moments passed and the bass began moving. A door opened on his backside and out tumbled a man, who can only be described as a beatnick! He wore a tweed gray jacket over a white turtle neck. His trousers were extremely baggy and he wore a pair of rope sandals without socks. He also wore a black french beret and a pair of shades.

Trauma and Tito: Goliath!

Goliath: Skiddily wa-wa.

Vindicator: Great.

Its been years since Trauma, Tito and Goliath were together and involved in a continuing story… so this reunion was one of great importance.

Tito: Hey! Ponce. Where’s the five bucks you owe me?

Goliath: Ah man. I left it in my other pants, man.

Introductions made, Goliath proceeded to tell them his story:

Goliath: Well, you see. I was catching some rays on this planet, man.  When I scoped out this hot babe. She had long legs and heavy-set of hooters. She came over and sat down beside me. She wanted me to rub somelotion on her BACK! (Get it?) I lustered her up and then she was all over me. Next thing I know is these five big dudes started ruffing me up! They said I molested their innocent young sister. Yeah right! Like with a body like that, I was supposed to know she was only 14! I escaped and hid out for a bit. Luckily I stumbled across this bummed out time lord. So I stole his Tardis. And now I’m here.

[writer: TRAUMA – Groovy.]

In the TARDIS, the now 5 Adventurers (Trauma, Tito, Vindicator, THE Dragon and Goliath) Nestled down for a long winters nap. Suddenly there arose such a clatter, they leapt from their beds to see what was the matter. Quickly they flew into the control room. Weapons loaded and menacingly waving. Vindicator turned on the monitor and they discovered they had landed. But where?

Suddenly materializing before them were three robed figures. The one in the center (and also the largest one) spoke first.

Big Guy: (in a high lisping voice) You have been charged with crimes against the Spirits of Christmas.

Tito: Save it.

Tito unloaded a full clip into the figure dropping him. Trauma followed suit and slaughtered the other two in the heat of excitement. Rocking back and forth, Trauma’s eyes were wide and adrenaline rushed through his veins. Starting to shake with seizure, the others rushed to his side. Tito grabbed Trauma’s pez dispenser and forced one, then two more into his mouth.

Tito: Here… put a little on your gums.

Relaxing, Trauma looked around.

Trauma: I’m fine now guys. Thanks.

Suddenly a disembodied head appeared in the TARDIS. Trauma and Tito thought to employ the same solution as to the last problem. However this did not work.

Disembodied Head: (in a high squeaky voice) You have been charged with crimes against the Spirits of Christmas. You are sentenced to rehabilitation. The only way to do this successfully is to experience Christmas through the eyes of children.

Vertigo hit them. It had to hit Trauma twice because he was still wearing the peril sensitive sunglasses. The first time was to knock them off, and the second was to give him that fuzzy feeling in the tummy.

Falling through that now familiar feeling of blackness, they sat back, jaded.

Tito: Hey man. Is dis da best dat you can do?

They landed. On the soft cushion of a mattress. Looking around they noticed something odd about themselves. They had been turned into children. Each wore the pj’s with the feet attached and the flap on the back.

Vindicator: What the hell is this?

Just then coming into the room was what appeared to be ‘mommy’ and ‘daddy’. Trauma, Tito, Vindicator screamed! THE Dragon was so scared he pooed himself and Goliath cried.

The reason the two ‘parents’ received this response was because ‘daddy’ was Rob Smith. Padre! The mother. It was quite obvious. Some two-bit washed up hooker/stripper Rob ordered in a Mail Order catalogue from Cambodia!

Daddy: C’mon you little bastards. Its time for school.

You see, Padre didn’t have a job. A real job that is. He watched foster children for a living. His wife worked late nights. Yes, this is gonna be one hell of a christmas.

[writer: TRAUMA – Ho ho ho!]

Their delicate senses befouled by the odour of the not so sweet smelling home they were now forced to inhabit the five grimly set about the task of plotting the demise of those they were forced to live with and those who had sent them here. But first it was necessary for a plan of action to be made.

Tito: I say we blow them all to hell!

Vindicator: Nah! Already been there nothing special.

Trauma: Did you see the ass on that Cambodian bitch! Ow! We could make a pretty penny by selling her on the street!

THE Dragon: Anybody got a spare set of PJs?

Goliath: Oi! I say we call up the phone sex line and charge it up way up, Padre’s payin!

After expressing their lack of enthusiasm for their “parents” the five intrepid voyeurs, uh, voyageurs decided that the best strategy here was to bilk these saps for everything they were worth( not much) and leave this flea infested piss-shack post-haste!

The five had formed their plan of action: 1) gain cash fast by pawning everything that wasn’t nailed down. 2) quickly shove ma out onto the street to increase the family income 3) make a quick visit to the mall to shoplift as much as they could and blame it on their wretched father. 4) find a decent set of clothes for fuck’s sake!

It was a fluke. The Spirits of Christmas managed to yank the 5 Adventurers out of the story before they destroyed Christmas. The error was that since their bodies had been reduced to that of 4 year olds, their minds remained the same. Only one explanation could be given – a greater power was siding with the Adventurers. A purely malignant and evil power!

And so we proceed…

Back in the TARDIS, Trauma, Marshal Tito, Vindicator, THE Dragon and Goliath along with C-9 hurled once again through time and space.

[writer: TRAUMA – I fucked it up… so then I saved it!]

Tito: “What happened?”

The Vindicator: “I think we were hit by a colossal negative space wedgie.”

Trauma: “Huh?”

The Vindicator: “You want me to explain? I know how much you love alternate realities and fractures in the space/time continuum.”

Trauma: “Never mind.”

Dragon was feeling his arms and legs… Then he moved his hands down his chest, stomach, back, hips…

Trauma: “What the hell are you doing?”

Dragon: “Making sure everything is still where I left it.”

[writer: The Vindicator – In a slump.]

THE Dragon: Hey Vind…you sure your real name ain’t Cliff?

Suddenly, before Vindicator swelled up his ego to smite the little man that THE Dragon was, a loud siren and flashing lights came on inside the HMGS Tardis.

Tito: Damn! Tell them that she told me she was legal before they put the cuffs on me!

Trauma: Relax! Check out the screen.

Goliath: Skiddly wa-wa

The screen lit up to show a most horrid fate that had befallen them this time. Outside showed a massive gathering of people in the most outrageous clothing and smoking these little things every five feet they walked. Beads adorned just about everything and everyone had hair down to their butts. Flowers bloomed everywhere and messages of “Peace” was in the air. Yes, they were at Woodstock!

With the sudden appearance of a Johnny-on-the-spot(at least that’s what it appeared to those at the concert) the lineup for the washroom started. People were pounding on the door and shouting for those inside to hurray up.

Vindicator: Let’s get out of here…

Trauma: Nothings working. Everythings dead. Not lights, no blips.

THE Dragon: It is a sign. We have a mission here to accomplish and Fate has charged us with completing it.

Goliath was just staring at the screen, absolute fascinated by the sight of all those people, joined for a single purpose. Do listen to their music, to express their feelings, and most of all to get high!

<Writer’s insert….how does he do that! I said one purpose and three appeared….sigh>

Goliath: Man, that is just too cool. I have died and gone to the great Smoke House in the Sky! Let me out…

With those muttered words he swayed out the door to join his brothers in Love. In doing so he let the hundreds of Hippies…er, expressionists into the extra-dimensional unit and the crew had all kinds of beat-niks all through the Tardis.

Vindicator: Oh just great! Whatever are we going to do now? We can’t kill thousands of them!

Tito just smiled and said: Sure we could. I’m game! Besides, I want to try out ‘Ol Betsy here.

Tito pulled out the shiniest gun anyone had ever seen. Double-barreled, nickel-plated and with a polished oak stock he was ready to rock.

Trauma: Where’d ya get that?!

Tito: Been savin it. Found it a ways back and modified with some things I found here. Don’t know what it’ll do, but one of the parts said “For StarShips weapons only” It was small and it fit inside the stock. Heh Heh.

Just then Goliath walked back in.

Goliath: ‘Bout time you guys showed up! I’ve been waiting for years!

Trauma: Whaddya mean years?! Ya just left a few mins ago!

Goliath: What?! Have you been doing any of those drugs they got here man? I’ve not seen you since the last story ya stuck me in….I believe I was in the gutter…

THE Dragon looked at the view screen and saw an image of Goliath wailing among the crowd of hippys, thoroughly enjoying himself….

THE Dragon: Umm guys…look at the screen.

They saw the other image and were baffled.

Vindicator: That’s not possible! This one must be an imposter!

C-9 walked in from the next room.

C-9: No he is not. This is the dilemma which you must solve. Both are the real Goliath but only the right one must leave this timeline, somewhere in the future you guys screwed up the timelines and if you mess it up again all of reality will be torn asunder!

Tito: Hey! Does that mean I won’t be able to polish my gun?

Now what will our heroes do? Are they faced with a paradox of time or will they simple blunder their way through this encounter? My money’s on the second choice

[writer: DRAGON!!!]

Screaming hysterically and gibbering at the thought of actually being involved in one of those space/time scenarios… Trauma pulled out a cheese grater and a sheet of tin foil. Jamming the tin foil into his mouth he began chewing and giggling madly. At the same time he started shaving his head with the cheese grater. Fortunately… Tito and Vindicator tackled him before he did himself any serious damage. Vindicator proceeded to slap some sanity into him with a glove. Enjoying the sensation, Vindicator applied a flurry of glove slaps until he was overwhelmed was the same hysterical screaming and gibbering. However, Vindicator salivated more and drooled all over his shirt.

Tito : And stay out you fucking beatnik!

Tito hoofed the last one out and slammed the door closed.

THE Dragon : How do we get out without letting them back in?

On the screen the line up started again.

Trauma : I think Tito’s method is the best.

Trauma reached for his MAC-10s. And Tito pulled up his UZI. Vindicator shook his head in stupified disbelief that anyone so violent as Trauma and Tito could possibly exist.

Vindicator: Why don’t we try subtlety for once?

Tito : What? Subtlety? Subtlety is for pussies and faggots!

Trauma : Yeah… and I bet you would like some orange pop too, eh?

Goliath #1: So what your chicken is saying… is that I don’t belong in this timeline?

THE Dragon: We don’t know. It’s either you or the other Goliath out there.

THE Dragon pointed to the view screen. Goliath #2 was body surfing.

Vindicator: Our traveling through the time/space continuum with ‘our’ Goliath must have disrupted the time/space fabric and over lapped two parallel timelines.

Trauma: <gibberish> <chuckle>

Goliath #1: Well then what are you waiting for. Go out and grab the other me and let’s get the hell back in time.

Vindicator: Okay. We have to figure out which timeline we intersected.

At this point Trauma frantically looked around for another cheese grater. Fortunately Tito was prepared and with a little extra unnecessary exertion, tackled Trauma. Tito alone couldn’t hold down the thrashing Trauma. So THE Dragon pinned Trauma’s legs. (But not before getting a boot to the nuts.) Vindicator reached excitedly for his gloves and tripped on his scarf. Goliath #1 rushed over and crushed one of two walnuts on the floor that had fallen out of THE Dragon’s mouth. Reaching for a clump of Crisco he forced it into Trauma’s hand.

Tito: Here… Put a little Crisco on it.

Generously heaping the Crisco onto his own gums, Trauma relaxed.

On the view screen… Goliath #2 was engaged in some furious moshing in front of the stage. He was also wearing a purple felt top-hat with a yellow ribbon and flowers painted all over it.

[writer: TRAUMA – Yup… I would go with the second choice too.]

The Vindicator jumped to the control panel and pulled a couple of levers…. The Tardis made a sickening lurch about 30 ft. to the west, materializing right next to Goliath #2… Trauma opened the door, reached out and grabbed Goliath #2 by the scruff of the neck, and pulled him inside.

The Vindicator closed the doors and dematerialized.

The two Goliath’s looked each other in the eye for the first time… For a moment, it seemed that the space/time continuum might collapse, but it was protected by The Vindicator’s vast ego.

Instead, the two Goliath’s merely passed out… As they lay on the floor of the Tardis, farting away, Trauma and Tito sat in the corner and sulked.

THE Dragon: “What’s wrong with you two?”

Trauma: “We didn’t get to kill anyone.”

Tito: “We didn’t even get to maim any small children!”

The Vindicator: “If you’re good, we can stop at Disney World, and you can fire indiscriminately into the crowd.”

Trauma and Tito beamed a smile at no-one in particular. The Vindicator walked into one of the many thousands of rooms down the hall, where a door said “It’s been a mind-numbingly happy experience opening for you.”

The Vindicator: “When did the doors start to talk?”

Trauma started chewing tinfoil again…

[writer: The Vindicator – But officer, the fate of the world hangs in the balance!]

Happily the voyageurs continue in blissful ignorance on their quest. Little known to them a giant space anomaly opened up and sucked them off course. Vindicator was summoned by C-9 from the bathroom where he was fervently jerking off to a skin mag left behind by THE Dragon the previous user of this one of the thousands of stalls in the Tardis.

Summoned by the emergency the Vindicator was forced to quit his affairs in a hurry and see where they had materialized. As it was his watch he could not believe his eyes to find the Tardis had materialized within a rundown theater in the middle of the ether.

Moments passed while Vindicator summoned the rest of the crew through the use of an old ship’s air horn he found. With a loud AOOOGAAA! The crew was awakened and formed up before the view screen. They were stunned to find a closeup of a weird alien looking blue bird with a large hooked nose and two large beady eyes surrounded by a vast harem of chickens pecking at the hull of their phone booth.

Music could be heard outside in the theater the band leader turned around and threw a massive gold toothed smile at the camera that blinded them for a fraction of a second all that the aliens needed before the Tardis was hit by a massive detonation in one of the walls.

Manaical laughter could be heard as a small lunatic ran through the hole and into his type of heaven their armory. Beckoning to his comrades the boarding siren wailed throughout the Tardis- a series of tin cans and bells that Trauma had collected through his childhood.

After the little dynamite wielding lunatic disappeared into the Tardis’ armory, the others stormed through.

C-9 : Sweet Koresh! We are being invaded by Muppets!

First came Gonzo and his armed chickens commandos. Fascinated by C-9, Gonzo rushed over to see what this gorgeous hunk o’ chicken was! A quick taser blast deterred Gonzo from continuing his sexual advances.

The 5 adventurers plus the other Goliath tried to fend off the boarding party… but were overwhelmed by the onslaught of The Flying Zucchini Brothers and a Fish wielding maniac! Successful in their strike, the other Muppets stormed the breach.

Kermit and Scooter carried in the desk and P.A system. Stadler and Waldorf carried in their customary booth. Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem lugged in their instruments. Scores of other Muppets and the patrons with their seats swarmed under the legs of Sweetums as he held open the breach from repairing itself.

Disappearing throughout the Tardis the Muppets infested their new home. Stadler and Waldorf set up their booth in the control room as the breach finally closed. Vindicator staggered to the controls and dematerialized.

[writer: Goliath]

[Ed. Note: Goliath’s first and only big post….thank God!]

Recovering from the bizarre encounter… Vindicator checked the instruments of the TARDIS.

Tito : What the Fuck was that?

Vindicator: It was a temporal anomaly. We crossed one of the multitude of realities where the TARDIS encountered a floating Muppet Theater. NO harm done… but lets avoid another such occurrence.

Trauma : <gibberish>

Suddenly the proximity alarm wailed! The TARDIS was yanked out of plotted course and into the ether by an immense gravitational force. On the view screen the Adventurers looked on in astonishment. The cube was huge. Close to the size of a small moon.

THE Dragon : What is it?

Vindicator : I dunno? C-9, what do you think?

C-9 : Looks like a giant cube the size of a small moon.

Trauma : But look at it. Look what its made of…

He was right of course, he was an odd construction. It appeared to be a mass of slum apartments fused together into a giant cube!

C-9 : We are being scanned by some fairly primitive devices.

They looked for a source of the scanning.

Vindicator: There!

Zooming in they saw the primitive scanner. It was a long-haired skid with a pair of binoculars.

Tito : Sweet Koresh! It’s the skids!

THE Dragon: The Who?

Vindicator : No.. they disbanded years ago.

Suddenly the TARDIS was being hailed. The image on the screen was of a long-haired skid wearing a ripped jean jacket with graffiti all over it. The background was obscured by smoke.

Skid : Like, surrender your ship, man.

He took a long drag from a small joint.

Vindicator : Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.

Tito : Fucking welfare, poogie bastards. Try and take it.

Tito held his gun menacingly.

Skid : Whoa… like bad karma, man. Resistance is futile, you will be tipped.

From the background chanting started. “Tip it. Tip it. Tip it.”  Growing steadily into a fevered pitch.

Vindicator : Its time to leave.

[writer: TRAUMA – And the crowd goes wild. A brilliant recovery by the Main Man!]


CCC&S 2 – The Greatest Adventure Ever Told (4/7)

As the TARDIS hurled through time and space the inside of the TARDIS was unusually quiet. THE Dragon was sitting in his room reading through his brand new Superheroing through Correspondence mail order manual. (comes with funky costume… which we will get to later) C-9 was off-line recharging his battery pack. And his evil twin C-8 was nowhere to be found.

The Vindicator was toying with the TARDIS controls, randomly doing absolutely nothing.

After frustratingly confusing himself with the manual, THE Dragon came into the control room and sat down to keep Vindicator company. At Vindicator’s absolute annoyance of course.

Suddenly the doors to the control burst open in a futile attempt at making a grand entrance. There stood Trauma and Marshal Tito.

Trauma was dressed in his 3/4 length leather jacket and wore a pair of heavy red laced hiking boots. Strapped to his legs were two MAC 10s. Fully loaded. Tito was dressed in a black trousers with a white mambo shirt buttoned to the neck and a black vest overtop. Gold chains dangled from around his neck and across his shoulder was a satchel loaded with extra ammo for the UZI he was cradling in his arm. Crisco dripped menacingly from the barrel.

Trauma reached into his shoulder holster and pulled out his Spiderman PEZ dispenser and popped a cherry pez. Tito pulled a toothpick dispenser from his satchel and drew out a cinnamon flavored toothpick.

Trauma: Groovy.

Tito: Skiddily Wa-Wa.

With the two original Adventurers ready for action, its time the story began to progress.

[writer: TRAUMA – Oh yeah…]

Vindicator rubbed his chin. Looked at the panel again. He went back to rubbing his chin. Well wherever we are, thought Vindicator, we’re here. He wore the long brown coat and 14 foot scarf he found in one of the rooms. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out and chewed on a jelly baby.

THE Dragon came into the control room with C-9.

THE Dragon: Still no sign of C-8.

Trauma and Tito came into the room right after the waddling C-9.

Tito: Where are we?

Vindicator: The instruments aren’t sure. I guess the only way to find out is to go and see.

THE Dragon had put on his costume before leaving the TARDIS. This Super-heroing thing should be a snap. Snappy duds. Cool shades. And a Groovy cape.

Trauma: Nice costume.

Tito: Yeah. Looks cool.

Actually the costume was this; A pair of long red PJs with the flap on the butt. A transparent plastic shirt with sewn on buttons on the chest. A hockey helmet with two bike reflector – one on the front and one on back. Two antennae made from stretched pen springs. A short red nylon cape, a pair of steel-toe construction boots and work socks. And to top it all off, a pair of multi-colored cycling shades.

Vindicator: Ahh yeah.

Stepping out of the TARDIS in single file, Trauma boldly lead the way. Tito swaggered belligerently, his steel plates clicking fiercely on the metal grates. THE Dragon strode out, chest extended and spoke in a deep, superhero type booming voice. Vindicator bravely tripped on the scarf into THE Dragon’s back. Inciting a heroic flex as THE Dragon took the credit for his first daring rescue.

All around them was space ships! They materialized inside a hanger/parking bay full of ships! Steel catwalks reached up dozens of levels. Coming to an elevator, they passed a somewhat sad-looking robot, moping quietly to himself in the corner.

Vindicator: Excuse me? Is there something wrong?

[writer: TRAUMA – Groovy.]

Some insignificant time later, after the incident with the totally unimportant yet appropriate visual support – Marvin. The Adventurers entered the elevator and went into the Famous Milliways: The Restaurant at the End of the Universe!

Head Waiter: Table for four?

THE Dragon: Five.

Head Waiter: Five?

THE Dragon: Yes. My faithful sidekick C-9.

Head Waiter: Oh.

Nodding grimly he lead the Adventurers to their table. As they followed the head waiter, they passed a table with four people at it. Not that these people stood out any more than dozens of other bizarre creatures in the Restaurant, it’s just that these four happened to be part of the appropriate visual support category.

Sitting down they looked over the menu. Deciding what they wanted they ordered.

Vindicator: I’ll have the 4 pound steak and a glass of orange pop.

Suffice it to say, this attracted Trauma’s and Tito’s attention.

Trauma: Orange pop?

Tito: Would you like a chocolate eclair with that, ponce?

It also happened to attract the attention of several others around them, and filled the air with quiet snickering. But not so quiet that their intended target couldn’t tell they were laughing at him.

THE Dragon: I would like a Bologna and Mustard sandwich. With a tall refreshing glass of iced tea.

Tito: Oh brother.

Tito flicked his toothpick at THE Dragon in disgust. And then ordered himself.

Tito: I’ll have the 12 pound CHICKEN WING platter. And a chocolate milk.

He looked at C-9 and smiled and nodded sadistically. C-9 lowered himself further into the baby-stool that was placed their special for him.

Trauma: I’ll have the Surprise special… and a glass of water.

Trauma decided to play it safe with the beverage.

Waiter: How would you like your water done?

Trauma: What?

Waiter: Your Water.

Trauma: Not what as in ‘what would I like done.’ I mean what as in ‘what the hell are you talking about.’

Waiter: How would you like your water prepared?

Trauma: Is there a difference?

Waiter: Yes.

Trauma: Well?

Waiter: Well what?

Trauma: The water…

Waiter: Oh… You can have it plain out of the tap. Ice cold. Warm. We also have it in several shades of yellow. Also we have it blended, pureed, grated, stirred and liquified.

Trauma: Ahhh… I think I will go with the liquified.

Waiter: Transparent or yellow.

Trauma: I would much prefer the transparent.

Waiter: Very good. I’ll be back shortly with your orders.

The Adventurers sat and watched the large window. Outside was nothing but endless infinite space. There was hundreds of people in the Restaurant, all chatting and drinking and eating. On the far wall was a stage and on the opposite side of the restaurant was a long oak bar with brass ornamentation.

They didn’t have to wait long before the waiter brought in four trays of food heaped on so heavy that it took two young semi-optimistic children to carry them.

Tito: Hey waiter! This is a hell of alot of food. What… its like you guys think the universe is gonna end soon or something.

Trauma: Hey! Taste this.

Trauma handed the glass to Tito.

Tito: Tastes like water. Why?

Trauma: Didn’t I specifically ask for it liquified? It tasted pureed to me. I gonna talk to the bartender.

Saying so he got up and made his way to the bar. Without warning somebody knocked his arm and spilt the contents all over his shirt.

Somebody: I’m terribly sorry.

Trauma: Nice going bub. Whats your name?

Somebody: Arthur. Arthur Dent.

Trauma: Arthur Dent? You’re a jerk Arthur Dent. A complete asshole.

Leaving the man standing there, Trauma proceeded to the bar.

Trauma: Hey barkeep! My water wasn’t the way I ordered it.

Barkeep: Well where is your drink?

Trauma: I’m wearing it.

Looking down, the Barkeep noticed the twin MAC-10s strapped to his legs.

Barkeep: Didn’t you read the sign at the door?

Trauma: No.

Barkeep: Well it says “Check your Firearms at the Door.”

Trauma: And if I didn’t?

Barkeep: Well… are they loaded?

Trauma: Yup.

Barkeep: Drinks on the house, mack. (smiling)

Trauma: Thanks.

Testing to make sure the drink was liquified before returning to the table, he was not disappointed.

[writer: TRAUMA – Groovy.]

As Trauma walked back to the table, he passed, once more, the shell of a man who had once been Arthur Dent. Arthur was still standing where Trauma had left him. He was completely stunned. Apparently this was not one of Arthur’s better days… Trauma just grinned and continued his trek to the table, content in the knowledge that he’d totally fucked-up someone’s day.

Tito was ripping and tearing the meat off of his extra-large plate of chicken wings, while C-9 looked on in horror. Oh, the humanity.

The Vindicator, daring to tempt fate, downed his orange pop and smiled an orange little smile at Trauma as he returned.

Trauma: “Stop smilin’ at me, people will start to think you’re odd.”

The Vindicator stopped smiling and started pouring mustard in Dragon’s pockets. Unbeknownst to Dragon.

Arthur still stood in the middle of the room, thinking that whatever the universe thought it was doing he wished it would please stop.

Nobody noticed when the great Prophet Zarquon entered the room…

[writer: The Vindicator – Mostly Harmless…]

Still sporting the orange mustache Vindicator spotted a lovely three-breasted lady. She smiled back. Actually, she sort of giggled. Actually she out-and-out laughed. Vindicator turned back to Tito.

Vindicator: I think she likes me.

Turning back he looked for the lady. She was sitting at a table with a large man with three-arms. (convenient, eh?) She again looked at Vindicator and this time smiled sincerely. His face beginning to blush, it clashed horribly with the orange mustache. Suddenly…. sitting there perfectly still and embarrassed… he tripped on his scarf and landed on the floor.

At the same moment the Prophet Zarquon walked past that exact same spot and himself tripped over the body of the Vindicator. Head first into the next table was a terrible way to start your day. Especially when the table was occupied by two Vorgons!

Grabbing the Prophet they began thrashing him fiercely. Food and chairs flew everywhere. Vindicator was still on the floor, oblivious to all except his extreme embarrassment.

Trauma was getting fidgety as he watched the fight. Tito also watched contentedly. THE Dragon, however, was not going to stand for this. His chest expanded he strode to the side of one of the Vorgons and tapped him on the shoulder.

THE Dragon: Excuse me…..AAaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuhhhhhhh.

THE Dragon landed on another table across the room. As can be obviously foreseen, due to the chain of events established to bring to you this bit of violence, and with further encouraging from Trauma and Tito, this is destined to become the most widely talked about bar brawl in the history of the galaxy.

[writer: TRAUMA – Take it away…. YES! Vorgons! V-O-R-G-O-N-S! We couldn’t do a complete rip off now could we? – hehehehehe pass the Sasparella.]

Swelling with anger and that air of heroic perfume, THE Dragon concentrated hard on the Vorgon that bashed half across the Bar. There was a sudden blast and the Vorgon was left standing with this huge gaping hole in his torso. THE Dragon was aghast at his display of heroism. He never meant to actually kill him….he sat down on the spot to contemplate his action…

Tito to C-9: Nice shot.

C-9: Thanks. These hidden blasters can be a nice touch at times.

Tito: Why did ya let THE Dragon think it was him?

C-9: We couldn’t have our most favoured comic-relief of the greatest story ever told get killed by a dumb Vorgon eh?

Tito: True. Any ways….got me some carnage to spread…excuse me

Tito said as he casually let loose a barrage of damage at the nearest ugly alien….

[writer: DRAGON!!!]

The coloured lights of Milliways glinted off the recently polished brass knuckles that Tito brandished as he laid a flurry of haymakers on the nearest ugly alien. Trauma looked up when he heard the glinting light and turned around to see the new fight that was developing.

The alien that Tito was thrashing was about man-size but a little thin, (Tito looked for ugly aliens who were weak-looking). Despite putting up a most spirited lack of defence and exhibiting signs of total capitulation he was still getting blows rained upon him from the giddy Tito. In half a minute, the alien lay unconscious on the floor with several plastic shards embedded in him (glass was hard to come by these days). Tito was praising himself on a job well-done when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around he saw three more aliens of the type he had just beaten, but each three times as large. “you play with our little brother, now we play with you…”

Tito knew he had to think fast, reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a walnut he was carrying and while twitching with false spasms said,”…if I give you a walnut, will you slap me?”

This caught the aliens off-guard, just as Tito thought. “that’s the same reaction I got when I used that line at the women’s shelter,” thought Tito to himself. The delay wasn’t much, but it was enough to delay the separation of Tito’s head from his body long enough for Trauma to fly in the fracas screaming,”lousy fucking Arab bastards.”

THE Dragon was now trying to duplicate his apparent deathray power on the other Vorgons who were slowly closing in on him. Vindicator tripped on his scarf again.

[writer: -Tito]

Soon the entire bar was involved the fight. Chairs, tables, utensils and other patrons were being used in THE GREATEST BAR FIGHT EVER HAD!

THE Dragon was concentrating once again. But to no avail. Suddenly he was knocked over by several overweight women. To say the least, THE Dragon would be occupied for several moments.

Setting up on the stage near the beginning of this fiasco was a small band. Chicken wire was strung up in front and the banner read “Whiskey Jack”. However this was not the main feature.

Tito and Trauma were in trouble. The three large muscular aliens were joined by two more. And It was a sure bet the walnut trick had played out its usefulness. They got some breathing room for about a second, and then as Tito was trying to formulate a plan Trauma jumped back in swinging. After being pummeled sufficiently they tossed Trauma back and called Tito to come back and play. They were doomed.

C-9 was backed into a corner by a group of Jawas. The lousy little scavengers began dismantling his parts. C-9 couldn’t blast fast enough.

Voice over the speakers: “Hey Tom, ever been to Tilsonberg?”

Stompin’ Tom: “Tilsonberg? My back still aches when I hear that word.”

Tito and Trauma miraculously renewed in strength, marched back towards the aliens with an inspiring vigor.

THE Dragon as can be seen by the immense pile of large, fat women…was quite busy. It seems that one of the sewn on buttons on his plastic shirt was a Fat Women Magnet. To this, Vindicator was relieved, for he was no longer the designated “fat magnet.”

All together 24 fat women had piled on top of THE Dragon. Two more were being pulled into the room at that moment.

[writer: TRAUMA – Total Carnage! I love it!]

Trauma popped a cherry pez from his Hugh Hefner pez dispenser and Tito squirted a little Binaca onto his tonsils… They grinned at one another and jumped into the fray…

All that could be seen of Dragon was a couple of large antennae which protruded from between a rather large woman’s legs.

C-9 managed to escape the Jawa’s (minus his left-wing) and was now tangled up in the chicken wire…

The Vindicator (standing once again) reached into his pocket and pulled out his keychain (which was feared throughout the land) and assisted Trauma & Tito in pummelling the large beasties. The beasties saw his orange moustache and fell down laughing (which left them wide open to attack). Trauma & Tito (being the dastardly types that they are) jumped at the opportunity. Trauma kicked one of them in the ribs until it started coughing up blood, while Tito demonstrated Louisville-Kwon-Do to another beastie.

The Vindicator went to the washroom to clean his face.

[writer: The Vindicator – Theresa wasn’t fat!]

Reaching down to the rear of his costume, THE Dragon undid the button used to washroom activities and slipped out. Unable to see what was happening to his comrades THE Dragon climbed up onto the nearest bar and grabbed a low hanging piece of wire.

‘If I can’t use the costume approach…I’ll try the Indy-style as taught to me in chapter 5 of my correspondence text book’

Unhitching the wire from the wall THE Dragon (in the dismal crusade) swung down towards the rotund group of women intent of delivering a double kick to knock them out of the room. Unfortunately there were two things THE Dragon didn’t consider….A) he was leaning forward in his swing with his legs BEHIND him…and B) the length of wire was longer then he judged  and the floor met THE Dragon rather suddenly. With an incredible thud, THE Dragon was planted face first into the floor of the Bar(just newly polish last night) and remained there for a few dazed moments….

[writer: DRAGON!!!]

Fat women still were sucked in through the front door and piled increasing higher on top of the suit.

Shaking the effects of the introduction to the floor, THE Dragon stood up. Clad in nothing but his super-stretch Fruit of the Looms, he once again strode forward into the battle ground.

Trauma: Hey Tito!

Tito: What?

Trauma: This is starting to hurt.

Tito: Yeah. What do you suggest?

Trauma: We should leave.

Tito: Any suggestions on how?

Trauma: Quickly.

Of course this was impossible. The large aliens had increased their numbers and overwhelmed Trauma, Tito and Vindicator. And once again the three Adventurers got smacked.

C-9: This is really embarrassing.

C-9 was hung up on the chicken wire, while a Stompin’ Tom, kept on a stompin’! The Jawas closed in on their elusive target. However he was caught way to high for them to reach. Being the clever little bastards they are, they would eventually find away to pull him down. By that time, the semi-pessimistic and semi-naked Dragon would arrive to help his little side-kick.

[writer: TRAUMA – Pain.]

Dragon staggered to his feet only to find a stampede of female heffers flying at him at an impressive velocity… He immediately turned tail and ran to the opposite side of the bar. Dragon positioned himself perfectly so that the bar was directly between him and the shamu’s in training. They ceased their advance, but as the solid oak counter top which ran all round the bar began to splinter, he realized that something had to be done, PDQ!

Dragon threw his Super-Stretch Fruit-of-the-looms at a piddly little coward who was leaving the bar and the bovine babes bounced blearily out of the bar. As they left, the ensuing vacuum which was created by their speedy departure caused the heads of the beastie aliens to explode, thus terminating yet another dilemma.

How did our hero’s survive? Well, Dragon’s helmet was created to operate in a vacuum, so he was spared (joy). Tito had noticed what was happening just in time to smear Crisco in his ears, thus creating an inverse vacuum within his skull. Trauma slipped on his peril-sensitive glasses and was oblivious to the whole thing. The Vindicator had his ego to protect him.

[writer: The Vindicator – The centre of your universe…]

CCC&S 2 – The Greatest Adventure Ever Told (3/7)

The evil C-8 rolled around the Tardis constructing a large trap out of bits of machinery and a small amount of explosive from the ships armory(stocked by the Trio, of course)

The sinister robot had booby-trapped the ships supply of Crisco. How absolutely fiendish! To complete the set-up, C-8 rolled back into Tito’s room to empty his portable supply canister, but just then Tito woke up. After yawning and scratching himself a couple of times he made an “elbow-room” gesture with his arms as he commented to C-8,”sure is roomier in the Tardis, eh C-8? Hey what are you looking for? Get lost.”

“Yes master,” replied C-8.

Tito began wandering around the Tardis in a confused state groping with the possibility of the irreversible loss of his compatriots(he also groped himself as he groped with the idea).

Trauma was getting bored with floating in the ether. Nothing was happening. Just then he remembered he had bought his Zippo lighter from a greasy street vendor in a dark alley in Hull, Quebec who assured him after Trauma’s insistence, that it would work in the ethereal (Trauma was obviously a wise consumer). He now pulled it out and turned it over in his hand and flashed an evil ether grin <eeg!> and flicked it.

Surprisingly (for the reader anyway, Trauma never had any doubts) a real flame sprang forth from the Zippo. What did surprise him was that the ether was ignited and started to burn fiercely . Just then he heard sirens and saw an ethereal craft approach him. It used a real water cannon (probably bought from the same greasy street vendor) and doused the flames before Trauma was consumed. “Oh shit!” exclaimed Trauma, “it’s the Ether police.”

Due to Trauma’s inability to move he was quickly arrested and brought back in ether-irons to the ether police station/jail/recreation centre.

After he was brought in front of a judge he was unchained and the judge read out the charges, “You, Trauma, stand accused of the charges of loitering in a no loitering ether-zone, arson of ether, ether-walking, disturbing the ether, entering the ether without a valid passport, ether-passing, violation of the ether cluster law in accordance with the Brauskeller Convention and two counts of hooliganism.”

In the face of these charges all Trauma could say was,”…call me Zmiaaaaaaaaaa.”

Naturally, he was found guilty and sentenced to row in the ether slave galleys for 61 years.

As he was led away he passed by a recreational time-space anomaly chamber and surprising his guards he broke loose and jumped inside and was whisked away <Whoosh> before his captors could catch him.

Trauma could sense he was floating in a sea of brilliant colours. He felt many sensations which overloaded his brain’s capacity to register them all. It was like being rolled by 15 Arab punks at the side of a road somewhere. Unfortunately, this time it was more than he could handle and soon he passed out.

[writer: -Tito]

While in one of his many deep trances, Dragon saw once again that his friends were in trouble. Now a master of the Yogi, Dragon(now calling himself THE Dragon) reached out in his astral form and gently hauled in the unconscious from the netherworld of pleasure from which he had slipped into.

THE Dragon: Rest easy brave comrade. There are a great many things which must be done in order to save our imperilled friends.

THE Dragon willed his mind once more into the true Astral world and searched through the mystic void until he found the Tardis. Seeing that his friend(term used not so loosely now) was in quite a predicament he sent him a mental message which could transcend many mortal boundaries.

THE Dragon: “Vindicator… must go to the power source of the Tardis and touch it”

Insubstantial Vindicator: “What? Dragon?! Get out of my head you putz!”

THE Dragon: “I am now called THE Dragon and you must do as I say or all else is lost”

Near-non-existent Vindicator: “If you can at ALL comprehend what kind of state I am in, you will see that I can’t touch a damn thing!”

THE Dragon: “You must trust me Vindicator. The Tardis’ power source is the only thing that can save you. I have rescued Trauma from the Ether-world where the Evil C-8 trapped him. He MUST be stopped Vindicator! You must get to the Tardis’ power source!”

Obviously-screwed Vindicator: “Fine! Heeyyyy…wait a minute! If I do that….I won’t be able to spy on the women!”

But THE Dragon’s voice was gone. Vindicator decided he might as well head on down to find this power source, but he had no idea where the engine room of this thing was….

[writer: New and improved and much wiser than a mortal man it’s…THE Dragon!!!]

The Vindicator began to walk down some stairs to one of the lower levels of the TARDIS… Unfortunately, when he was phased, he was wearing his abnormally long scarf…. Yes. You are right… He tripped, sailed 30 ft. through absolutely nothing and disappeared through the TARDIS wall… Well, this was just great. Not only was he insubstantial, but now he was floating in deep space. If not for YATI’s he’d suffocate and die, but this dilemma was conveniently overlooked… So… How to get back inside the TARDIS. He had no means of propulsion… He tried to pass wind, but it was just as insubstantial as the rest of him… He tried to lasso the TARDIS with his scarf, but if just passed through the walls…

He was just about to give up hope and die, when a Romulan (who had been phased several months earlier) bumped into him and knocked him back into the TARDIS. The Vindicator flashed a winning smile at no-one in particular and continued his trek to the engine room.

[writer: The Vindicator – Entirely Non-Canon.]

Simultaneously all four adventurers had the same thought. Whats with all this Star Trek stuff? With an equally simultaneous shrug they forgot about it..

In the engine room, the Vindicator spotted C-8. Ducking back so he wouldn’t be seen, he remembered that he actually couldn’t be seen. With that he strode bravely into the room…. and tripped on his scarf. Thank Koresh for YATI’s!

C-8 had finished talking to himself (out loud) about his grand plans. Unfortunately the Vindicator had entered the room too late. Rolling out of the room C-8 vanished into the Tardis. After a few moments and two more stumbles later he touched the mechanism as THE Dragon had indicated. Again his hair was overwhelmed by a major case of curiosity, this time wanting to see what he was up to. Bolts of energy shot through his ethereal body. Falling to the ground unconscious, the Vindicator returned to his corporeal form. However he was not going to do much more at the moment due to his unconsciousness…


THE Dragon had expended much of his power contacting the Vindicator that his hold on Trauma had faltered and then completely slipped away. Spinning off into the Time-Space Vortex… Trauma hurtled to a time and place as yet unknown….

[writer: TRAUMA – Ok… leave me out of it until my next post… I have plans for myself…]

THE Dragon: Ooops.

[writer: DRAGON!!!]

As The Vindicator lay unconscious in the engine room, Trauma plummeted further and further into a space-time vortex and THE Dragon tried to regain his hold on Trauma, Tito began to smear peanut butter on his legs (cuz wax is too painful)… He went in search of a banana (peanut butter and banana’s! Try it!).

Taking a minute to ponder the situation, he decided that the most likely place to find a banana would be the kitchen. Taking a minute to ponder the situation, he decided that the most likely place to find a kitchen would be on one of the lower levels. Taking a minute to ponder the situation, he decided against the banana.

Tito shot bolt-upright in his bed.

Tito: “Whew! What a weird dream! I’d never put peanut butter on my legs! I’m too macho for that tomfoolery!”

Tito wiped the beads of sweat from his brow and went off in search of The Vindicator…

[writer: The Vindicator – Lunkhead extraordinaire!]

Tito soon discovered Vindicator lying unconscious on the floor of the engine room. Tito quickly pulled out his smelling salts and used them to try to revive Vindicator. Actually, they weren’t really smelling salts. It was actually an old sardine can filled with chunks of dried Crisco that had been soaked in a bucket of scope mouthwash (you never know when it might come in handy). Not surprisingly Vindicator’s eyes flickered open and immediately he rolled over and puked out his guts on the floor (“you have a lovely pancreas”, observed Tito). When his organs were replaced Vindicator jumped to his feet and began to say to Tito,”…golly am I glad to see you. I have the strangest story to tell you about where I’ve been the last couple of days.”

Tito: Yeah, yeah, tell me later, but now you must come to the control room there is something we must do.” and with that he disappeared down the corridor. Vindicator followed.

Tito: Show me how to turn it on.

He said while pointing at the control panel. Vindicator leaned over and pulled a large red lever that was labelled in big neon letter”Power:On”. The panel sprang to life. Tito began adjusting controls on the panel like a man possessed.

“What are you doing?” asked Vindicator, full of apprehension.

“Trust me,” replied Tito,” this just has to be done. Load up the Mack-10s.”

In minutes, Tito, without really knowing what he was doing, had sent the Tardis hurtling through the ether to some unknown destination.

“Shouldn’t we pick up THE Dragon?” naively asked Vindicator.

“No, I don’t trust him now with this yoga business and that C-9 seems completely in his power. At least I have a loyal C-8, eh little buddy?” replied Tito.

“Oh sure, anything you say. You’re so great <HACK> <SPEW>”confirmed C-8 with false sincerity that was unnoticed by the frantic and machismo-oozing Tito.

Suddenly the door opened and Tito said, “This is it! Kill everything that moves and everything else too!” he said brandishing twin Mack-10s. Vindicator followed.

They were in some kind of a house. In the living room there was a large very hairy man talking to a skinny blonde swede. The sounds of machine gun fire shattered the coziness of the scene and both were cut down very easily and messily.

As the Swede lay on the ground in a pool of his own blood while coughing up more of his own,”Huey…<KOFF> <KOFF> <GAG>…I think this is the end…”

Huey replied,”Hunnhhh….. I’ve always loved you, Sven.”

Just then the rocket launcher poised on Tito’s shoulder (he called it Polly, “Polly want a LAW rocket?” )fired and blew up the entire living room with a resounding KABLOOIE!!!.

“You were right,” said Vindicator, cradling his smoking shotgun barrel,” you did have to do this.”

Without another word, thy returned to the Tardis and dematerialized.

[writer: -Tito: uh, sorry…]

The wailing siren caught THE Dragon’s attention. Knowing what the sound was, he quickly ran to the source. C-9 followed. And Yogi was swatting a large snake with a wiffle bat.

The Blue Police Box was a welcomed sight. After what seemed like 5 years to Dragon was indeed 5 years. To Vindicator and Tito it only a few weeks.

Dragon: “For awhile there, I had my doubts. But you came back for me.”

Tito: “Actually… we are just as surprised as you. I was heading for Earth and the Kit Kat Club for some Mambo.”

Dragon: “So whats been happening?”

The wiffle bat was quite ineffective against the snake.

Vindicator: “Well there’s a duplicate of C-9 running around somewhere inside the TARDIS and he’s trying to kill us.”

Choking violently, Yogi mustered all his Yoga powers of meditation.

Dragon: “Gadzooks! Its one of C-9’s prototypes.”

Tito: “You mean there’s more?”

Unfortunately… the snake was in a state of denial, and disbelieved Yoga’s power.

Dragon: “We must find him and stop him. By the way… Where’s Trauma?”

The wiffle bat floated on the muck for a few months, until a tiny bipedal mammal found it and stored it away inside its underground lair.

[writer: TRAUMA – Continued…. on next post.]


The streets were filled with horses and cowboys. Women wore bonnets and children hassled store owners. Saloons and Brothels lined the streets of Windy Gulch.

In the corner of a dingy saloon sat Trauma, the Oklahoma Skid. A Dusty black hat and poncho were his trade mark. Two colt .45 hung at his sides in well oiled holsters.

He propped his feet on the table and downed another shot of whiskey. Suddenly the swinging doors wooshed open and there stood three of the nastiest hombres this side of Dodge City. They entered.

Cowboy 1: “Milk. Cold.”

Trauma: “Did I just hear you order milk, boy?”

Cowboy 1: “Yeah. Whats of it?”

Trauma: “Oh nothing… I was just making sure.”

For a few seconds all was pretty tense. Then it escalated from there…

Trauma: “I always figured milk was for pussies and Faggots!”

Well that was it. The three cowboys turned and stood ready to defend their right at an alternative life style.

Cowboy 2: “We don’t take kindly to those remarks boy.”

Cowboy 3: “I think maybe you apologize. Real nice like.”

With lightning speed. He drew his colts and cut them down here they stood. Getting up and walking out he passed one still alive. Trauma saw the fear and surprise in the man’s eyes.

Cowboy 1: “Wh- Who are you?”

Trauma : “They call me Oklahoma Skid.” And then he shot him.

Bartender: “Why did ya do it Oklahoma?”

Trauma: “Why else? I’m an asshole.”

His spurs jingled as he hummed a tune down the street.

Trauma: “hum humm humm-humm A-S-S-H-O-L-E…. A-S-S-H-O-L-E….”

[writer: TRAUMA – Groovy… I reckon.]

THE Dragon, realizing that it was himself that lost Trauma, he probed the multiverse of possibilities to find some sort of trail of their misplaced companion.

THE Dragon: I’ve found him! Let’s go!

Back to the Tardis they fled, leaving a rather baffled Yoga Master and a snake in perfect denial(the first sign of pregnancy). THE Dragon punched in a few coordinates into the Tardis’ control panel and asked how to get it to go.

Vindicator smacked his head and pulled the level with the bright glowing neon sigh that said “Power: ON”. With a while and a whine(soon to be served with cheese) they disappeared into the nether mists of time and space.

They reappeared inside a Hospital.

Vindicator: You idiot! We’re in a Trauma UNIT!

THE Dragon: Ooops. Hmmm….this universal conscious must be on the blink….

Nearby Doctor: Hey! What are you doing in here with that….phone booth!

Tito: I’ll handle this one.

Tito leveled his rocket launcher and wasted him(plus half the Trauma unit)

Vindicator: Why’d ya do that?

Tito: Witnesses. Never leave witnesses.

Vindicator: Oh. Let’s go back.

Back into the Tardis they went, with some more funky noise they disappeared. Randomly they reappeared……

[writer: DRAGON!!!]

As Trauma trotted along the street on his horse, named Horse. He continued humming the tune. From under his dusty poncho he pulled out from a mini shoulder holster a SPIDER-MAN PEZ DISPENSER! And popped a few pez.

Yes… the mighty PEZ DISPENSER! The only sole object truly in Trauma’s possession that he can call his very own. Everyone kept trying to steal this from him! But he won’t have it! Huddling the SPIDER-MAN PEZ DISPENSER close to his chest he peered around looking for suspicious folk obviously jealous of his possession.

He hated them all! The little bastards… with their bushy tails! Popping another pez he tucked it away again and rode on. Humming much softer now, and keeping one hand ready on his Colt .45.


The Tardis materialized some 30 feet above the surface of the planet (Thanks to THE Dragon’s total lack of any co-ordinate plotting skill). The Vindicator just rolled his eyes as they plummeted to the surface… Conveniently, the Tardis is indestructible… The horse it landed on, however, was not.

Trauma was surprised at nearly being squashed by the Tardis. His horse didn’t have time to be surprised. It’s mind (now oozing out from below the Tardis) could no longer deal with surprise (or much else).

Trauma dismounted what was left of his horse and entered the Tardis. Upon entering, the first thing he did was to slap THE Dragon on the head.

THE Dragon: “Why’d you slap me???”

Trauma: “Who else would have materialized 30 feet in the air???”

THE Dragon just pouted…

Tito briefly acknowledged Trauma’s presence and then returned to polishing his newly acquired Surface-To-Air missile.

[writer: The Vindicator – Planes, Trains and Automatic Weapons…]

Amidst his pouting, THE Dragon came upon a brilliant idea to save the Universe and was about to voice his Omnipotent idea when C-9 came in.

C-9: Master!

Shaken from his revelry, and losing the idea in doing so, THE Dragon addressed his faithless companion.

THE Dragon: I know. Time for your oil bath…

C-9: NO! Come with me!

THE Dragon, following his follower went into the back of the Tardis. C-9 took him to a small room and showed him a plaque that was upon the wall.

“HMGS Tardis”

THE Dragon: What does it mean?

C-9: It means Her Majesty’s Groovy Ship Tardis!

THE Dragon: So? What’s so important that I don’t already know?

C-9: Don’t you get it? The group of you are the…(ominous music) THE GROOVY TEAM!

Vindicator, retaining and hiding that special ability to phase through walls overheard this and went to smack his forehead but his hand passed through it, he sighed.

C-9 brought out some small metal stars with H.M.G.S Tardis on them. He put one on THE Dragon’s chest….ok…so it had to be glued to his tunic, but it was at least now visible.

THE Dragon: We MUST tell the others!

Off they went back to the control room. Tito was crooning quietly to his newest toy missile, Trauma was popping another Pez, careful not to let anyone see, Vindicator walked through a door(and strangely enough no one noticed).

THE Dragon: OK all of you! We have been given a mission! This come from the highest of authorities!

Tito: Authority? What? Who’s?

THE Dragon: Ummm….would you believe I don’t know?

Trauma: Yep!

THE Dragon: Any ways..I have the badges for us to wear so that all may see and recognize who we are!

Vindicator: Badges? We don’t need no steenking badges!

Tito: There go the copyrights again!

Trauma: Heyyyy….neat badges! Makes me look like some sort of law enforcer! What’s this writing?

THE Dragon: H.M.G.S Tardis!

Vindicator: We can see that putz!

Slaps THE Dragon on the head.

THE Dragon: Oh! Her Majesty’s Groovy Ship Tardis!

Trauma: Groovy? Cool!

Vindicator: No no no, Groovy! Not cool!

So off were our newest brand of “law”(note quotes) enforcers!(note exclamation mark). But what was in store for them next? Aliens? Monsters? THE Dragon’s incompetence(sp?)? Find out in our next post!

[writer: DRAGON!!!]

CCC&S 2 – The Greatest Adventure Ever Told (2/7)

The lights went dim and there was a strange whining sound…

Trauma: Vind stop that!

Vindicator: It’s not me!

Dragon: I smell chicken…

Slimdicator: You’re just hungry..

Dragon: How do you know?

Indicator: That dial over there says so…

Dragon looked at the dial….it said ‘Dragon is hungry’. Dragon turned the dial a bit…now it said ‘Trauma is eager.’, another turn ‘Tito is willing’, another turn ‘Vindicator is ready’. Dragon decided to go exploring at this point….

The lights brightened and the dark view screen showed them something quite surprising…..

[writer: DRAGON!!! (Better?)]

The image that appeared on the view screen was disturbingly familiar, yet completely foreign to them…

After a few moments of silence, The Vindicator piped up:

The Vindicator: “I think I know where we are…”

Trauma: “You do?”

The Vindicator: “Yeah… There’s just one problem. Our presence is utterly impossible.”

Tito: “So where are we?”

The Vindicator: “We’re inside the Tardis…”

Trauma: “No shit, Sherlock!”

The Vindicator: “No, I mean that we, in OUR Tardis, materialized inside our own Tardis.”

Trauma: “That’s utterly impossible!”

The Vindicator: “Thanks for the update.”

Tito: “So what do we do?”

Trauma: “We could leave our Tardis and go into our Tardis…”

The Vindicator: “No… If there’s one thing that the BBC has taught me it’s that meeting oneself would cause a temporal anomaly of catastrophic proportions… Perhaps even strong enough to rip the very fabric of time and unravel the universe.”

Trauma: “That could be fun to watch…”

The Vindicator: “Yeah, but only once.”

Tito: “So what do we do now?”

Dragon: “Why not ask my new friend?”

Dragon emerged from one of the many (many) back rooms within the

Tardis. Waddling behind him was a small metallic animal with the letter C and the number 9 on its chest…

The Vindicator: “What the hell’s that?”

Dragon: “C-9”

Trauma: “What’s a C-9?”

Dragon: “My computerized chicken… I just built it out of some old spare parts I found in the back. C-9!”

C-9: “Master?”

Dragon: “Say something intelligent…”

C-9: “You’re a putz…”

The Vindicator: “I could learn to like this programmable poultry.”

Dragon just grumbled and played a little pocket pool.

C-9: “Temporal Anomaly detected… Suggest immediate dematerialization!”

The Vindicator: “What the hell… We’re not gaining anything by staying.”

The Vindicator entered a couple of random co-ordinates and threw the lever. There was a sickening lurch within the Tardis which made everyone’s stomach jump one foot to the left. The entire universe seemed to fold in on itself and then belch out a small blue box…

[writer: The Vindicator – Star Trekking across the universe…]

Trauma: That was neat.

Vindicator: Skiddily wa wa…. ah- never mind.

Hanging in the ether, the blue box just… hung there. Awkwardly. The little light on top flashed rhythmically. Inside the Tardis the Adventurers were quite bored. It seems that this usually happens when they nothing to do.

Dragon: I’m bored.

Tito : I’m willing.

Vindicator: What?

Trauma: Here chickee, chickee, chickee.

Hours passed as Vindicator sitting cross-legged reading a large, well indexed Tardis Operation Manual before anything of importance happened.  Suddenly…it was one minute after the last one. Tito and Dragon went exploring the Tardis was Trauma was motioning to C-9, trying to get him to do various tricks for a small half gnawed kernel of  corn he found in his pocket under a wad of lint. It wasn’t going so well.

Trauma: Play dead.

C-9: No.

Trauma: Roll over.

C-9: No.

Trauma: Sit up and beg.

C-9: No.

Trauma: Chase your tail.

C-9: Go away.

Trauma: No.

C-9: Leave me alone.

Trauma: No.

C-9: Stick your head in a temporal anomaly

Trauma: Okay.

Suddenly… it was one minute past the last-minute. Slamming the manual closed Vindicator leapt to his feet and glanced at the console. There… labeled in block letter under a big red lever was the word “MATERIALIZE”

Vindicator: I’m a genius.

Pulling the lever, the Tardis began its familiar siren-wailing. Solid ground. But where?

[writer: TRAUMA – No.]

They were in a swamp.

Dragon: It’s wet.

Vind: Oooo…he’s so smart! Knot!

Trauma: That’s NOT!

Tito: How can you tell the diff?

Trauma: I know Vind!

C-9: There is something outside the Tardis…

They all looked at the metal chicken and then to where his beak was pointing to at the screen. The lighting outside was not very good and they saw a shadow moving….

Tito: Alright…let’s go check it out..heh, heh, heh.

He said picking up his peril sensitive shades.

Trauma: Right!

He said picking up Vind!

Vind: I’m ready!

He said picking up the manual

Dragon looked at the indicator, sure enough it said that Vindicator was indeed ready.

Dragon: Might as well.

He said picking up C-9 but almost put out his back at the weight so he decided to let him waddle out.

Once outside Vindicator aimed his pez dispenser at the creature in the dark. With a high-pitched, warbly voice they heard it speak…

Creature: Away put your weapon…I mean you no harm…

Tito narrowed his eyes. Trauma aimed Vindicator, Dragon thought “oh no!”

“What is it you seek here?” asked the little creature.

“Who are you?” demanded Tito.

“I am Yoga! Master of all Yogi!”

Dragon: Master! I have been searching for you! Please teach me the Way!

Vindicator turned his pez to Dragon! Trauma dropped Vindicator in astonishment, Tito slapped his forehead.

Tito: Alright enough of this. We have a job to do!

Trauma: We do?

Vind: Yes! We rob from the rich!

Trauma: You mean like Robin Hood? Rob from the rich and give to the poor!

Tito: No…we rob from the rich and pretty much keep it!

Dragon: Master. My friends seek to leave, what must I do?

Yoga: You must do what your gut tells you my son….

Dragon: But the chicken is made of steel!!!

Yoga baffed him on the head with his wiffle bat. “You must stay and learn the ways of the Yogi young Dragon. Then and only then will you be able to reach inner happiness.”

Vindicator: Oh brother! I say we leave him and the metal poulet here to rust!

Trauma: But, but, but…

Tito(whispered): Not now Trauma…later tonight in the Tardis.

Trauma gave him a sharp look.

Tito: Oh…you mean keeping the party together! AHEM…hmm….well we DO have a time machine….we’ll just go forward to when his training will be complete and pick him up then come back and continue with our busy schedule.

Vindicator: I say it’s a waste of time!!

Trauma: Does it matter? We have a time machine with ALL the time in the universe! Heyyyyy….there was this one chick….hmmm….

C-9: Dragon stays for his training. I will stay to guard him. The rest of you take the Tardis and we’ll catch up with you in a few years.

Tito: You mean a few seconds. <G>

C-9: Whatever!

The group parted, the blue box whined and the little light flashed and Dragon was left to train with Yoga and learn the ways of the Yogi.

[writer: DRAGON!!! (Well…do enjoy!<BG>)]

And so the original Trio were back in the stolen Tardis hurtling into the future to pick up Dragon. Once in motion Tito said to the others,” well we don’t have to pick him up right away, do we. I mean we’ve got all time to get him. I say we zip back to earth and materialize in a military armory and load up with hardware since there’s nothing stopping us from materializing inside, eh?”

Trauma and Vindicator agreed but the computer had to plot a course and the computations to appear inside the exact spot would take some time so the Trio had to amuse themselves for the next hour. Trauma immediately started polishing his nickel-plated Zippo.

Almost an hour later, C-9 returned from the maintenance room to see Tito posed over the kitchen sink and Trauma at the laundry room sine. C-9 asked “What’s going on”

Ignoring him, Tito said,”ok, one, two, three – go!” and both he and Trauma turned on the cold water faucets full blast. A shriek of pain was heard that sounded like Vindicator’s voice.

“…Hee, hee, hee…” chuckled Tito and Trauma heinously. Vindicator was taking a shower.

[writer: …TITO LIVES! – just an interlude of silliness…]

Suddenly, Tito realized that C-9  was left on the planet with Dragon and Yoga! Boy was his face red!

The Vindicator flicked a couple of switches, pushed a couple of buttons and turned a couple off dials and eventually, the linear continuity of the universe (and this story) was resolved…

They continued…

The TARDIS materialized inside a small, forgotten weapons bunker somewhere in the mid-southern region of the USA. The walls were lined with various tools of death that had been forgotten by this Kinder, Gentler America. Quad-Pack RPGL’s, M-16’s with night scopes and targeting lasers, Miniguns, Plastic Explosives, Semi-Automatic Pez dispensers…

Trauma and The Vindicator looked around with interest… Tito began to drool.

[writer: The Vindicator – Must I do EVERYTHING???]

Trauma: Groovy.

Vind and Tito: Skiddily wa wa.

They roamed around the ammo bunker picking up and playing with their new-found toys. The place was fairly big, and loaded to the tits! Within 2 hours the Trio had packed one of the TARDIS’ chambers with all the ordnance.

Tito: Lets start a revolution.

Trauma rubbed his chin. Vindicator also rubbed his chin. Trauma smacked Vindicator and told him never to touch him again.

Trauma: Where are we gonna start a revolution? Its kinda tough to find a spot…

Tito: Why not just go back into time and join a worthy cause.

Vindicator: But that could alter history.

Trauma and Tito: Your point?

Vindicator: Just indicating the obvious.

Trauma: Fuck the revolution. I say we go back in time and use all this heavy firepower to get rich.

Tito: Yeah… that’s a worthy cause if I ever heard of one.

Vindicator: Do we pick up Dragon and C-9?

Tito: Naaa. We’ll pick them up later. First, let’s make a quick stop at the women’s shelter.

[writer: TRAUMA – Dialogue.]

When the Trio returned to the control room of the Tardis heavily laden with their choice of sidearms and incidental weapons they stopped dead in their tracks when they saw the C-9 that had been thought to have been mistakenly a figment of Tito’s deranged and twisted imagination. Vindicator whispered to Tito,”now I see it too. How about you, Trauma?” Trauma nodded.

Tito:(all still whispering) Ha! I told you so. It must be a spare C-9.

Every well equipped Tardis has a spare.

Trauma: How do you know that?

Tito: No idea. I just made it up.

The Trio agreed that this was what had happened and they resumed normal voices and entered the room.

Tito: (to “C-9”) We can’t have two C-9s because it confuses me so we’ll call you C-8, okay.

“C-9″: That’s fine with me, bucko, hehehehehehehehe.

The robotic chicken thought to itself, ha, these saps have bought it. Little do they know that I am the prototype of the real C-9. These rubes will be easy to eliminate and then I’ll eliminate that goody-two shoes brother of mine, C-9.

Yes, readers, the Trio in their blissful ignorance had accidentally activated the Lor model robotic chicken while poking around the Tardis. Soon they would pay for their folly.

The Trio went to sleep eventually and C-8 rolled over to Trauma and woke him up,”master, my sensors indicate that the AE-35 unit on the external satellite antenna will go 100% non-functional in 25 minutes. It must be replaced.”

Tito stirred from his sleep after an apparent nightmare,” yeah, little girl, keep petting the puppet like that and I’m sure it will tell you a story. Yeah, like that, ohhhhh yeaaahhhhhh, that’s it faster, faster, uh what? It’s the cops shit, they caught me. She told me she was fourteen, officer, I swear.”

Trauma shook him violently.

Tito: Lemme go, I won’t do it again, I swear it! Uh, wha, uh, Oh

Trauma, it’s you. I must have been having a nightmare.

Trauma: The AE-35 unit is broken. What do think we should do.

Tito:(snapping back at Trauma) Well take your MacGuyver knife and go and fix it. Leave me alone, I’m busy sleeping.

Trauma went out the door of the Tardis and climbed on top of the Tardis’ roof. Unfortunately the Tardis was hurtling through the ether at this point.

Trauma remarked,”hey, there’s no satellite antenna out here. What the hell is going on?” Almost as answer to his question, he heard the door to the Tardis slam shut and he drifted away into the Ether.

Inside C-8 was chuckling diabolically,”heeheehee. Whoops! There he goes!”

Trauma sat silently drifting in the Ether,”damn.” He suddenly realized that the presence of the ether reminded him of his childhood. “This must be upper class ether, we were lucky to be able to live in an infinity of ether only a fraction of this size. We had good belts though.”

[writer: -Tito, ether, it ebbs and it flows.]

Yoga: You MUST conCENtrate! You will never master the art of the Yogi if you continue to think like that!

Dragon trips and falls while he walked along a path. “But Master… The chicken doesn’t mind!”

The little green midget jumps up and side kicks him in the head. “But _I_ do!”

Dragon gets up again and closes his eyes and suddenly exclaims

“Master! My friends(term used loosely) are in trouble! I must go save them!”

Yoga: What did you see?

Dragon: Mist, Trauma floating and thinking about his childhood, C-9 laughing….it’s all very hazy Master.

Yoga: I TOLD you to stay away from the mushroom pasture!!! You are hallucinating! Now let’s try this again…

Dragon and his Yogi Master once again go back to Dragon’s studies in the art of the Yogi and as for his friends(term used loosely)…well…I guess they’re fucked…

C-8 realized that if he was to be successful in his plan, The Vindicator would have to be the next to go. Only his superior intellect could pose a threat to C-8’s plans. He would have to be…. dealt with.

Trauma was still floating through the never, er… ether, and Tito was in his room having yet another nightmare.

Tito: “No, not the rat-tail!”

“I’ll be good! Don’t beat the evil out of me!”


C-8 opened the control panel at the base of the Tardis control panel and began a little “Bob Vila” work on the wiring. He clucked a metallic little cluck as he worked. “Yes”, he thought… “This will do nicely.”

[writer: The Vindicator – Ethereal…]

Hiding behind the antique coat rack, C-8 rubbed his metallic wings together as he watched The Vindicator enter the room. He already stumbled once as he stepped on his long scarf. Adjusting it, Vindicator once and strode forward. Within two steps he stumbled again.

Vindicator: Maybe I should have given the scarf to Trauma. That way he would trip into something solid and heavy. (No one knew exactly what Trauma was doing at that very moment)

Determined to try out some new things, Vindicator flicked the switch. This was the same one C-8 had rigged to do the following heinous, devious thing to whoever flicked the switch.

Vindicator was jolted by a current of energy that sent his hair (all over his body) into fits of curiosity. It seemed each hair wanted to see which one was the tallest.

Vindicator: mmmmm…mmmm..mmmmmmmm….mmm…m…m…mmmmmm

He began fading. Soon Vindicator had become invisible. But not only Invisible… he was phased! He could pass through anything much like a ghost.

C-8: Finally… he is gone.

Vindicator: What? Whats going on?

C-8 couldn’t hear him or see him or feel him. No one could. C-8 waddled out of the room in search of a way to get rid of the final threat.  Tito. After several hours of experimenting, Vindicator had figured out what had happened to him. He had been phased. He had to get help. But from whom? No one can hear him or see him. It was that blasted C-8! He was behind all this!

Vindicator: Although… there really isn’t a major rush. Think of the possibilities. Spying on women while they are taking bubble baths or are in the shower. Being in the room while someone is talking about you… so many things. Where should I begin?

[writer: TRAUMA – In the ether…]


CCC&S 2 – The Greatest Adventure Ever Told (1/7)


By: Dragon, Goliath, Tito, Trauma and Vindicator, circa 1993ish

Edited by: Dragon

It all started one night as three of our main heroes staggered out of NRG night club one Saturday night (or early Sunday morning). Tito, Trauma and Vindicator were leaving to return home (Dragon wasn’t here yet…) from the club. They parked far away because of the parking situation. It had grown very cold and the three were freezing on the way back. They were in varying states of intoxication. Tito was sober because he was so responsible and could really hold his liquor. Vindicator was also mostly sober since he didn’t have the cash to get as shit-faced as he wanted, but Trauma – now you’re talking shit-faced!

As they walked ever onward for what seemed kilometers, the chill in the air was beginning to annoy them (except for Trauma who was feeling no pain). Tito remarked on how cold it was and Vindicator thought it would be funny to set him on fire. Casually he doused Tito with kerosene and flicked matches at his back. Not noticing, Trauma and Tito discussed their predicament.

Trauma: Yep, it sure is cold.

Tito: Yep, lucky I have my hate to keep me warm.

This brilliant dialogue continued until they neared a bridge where a freight train was passing slowly over.

Trauma: Hey, I know let’s hop aboard that freight train and cruise up to Toronto and we’ll walk up and down Younge Street.

Tito: Sure, let’s go. (Okay, maybe not completely sober)

The trio ran up and deftly hopped aboard the train and got into a box car. Vindicator made some impromptu torches out of straw in the car and the trio settled down for the ride. They closed the door to keep the wind out.

For a long time the trio sat gleefully awaiting their arrival at Toronto. Then suddenly Trauma sobered up and said “Tito, our cars are back in Burlington and we’re going to freeze to death. This is stupid. We’re going to Toronto on a freight train. This is stupid.”

Suddenly realizing their stupidity, the trio were bummed out and sat in contemplation of their presently worsening situation. The train was going way too fast to jump off now, so they’d have to wait until the train stopped at T.O. They didn’t realize that the trip had taken many hours longer than it should’ve and the next day when they awoke, the train had stopped and when they opened the door they were surprised to see…

[Writer: …TITO SUAVE!!! (…based on an almost true story!)]

What the trio saw early that Thursday morning was quite amazing. Actually it wasn’t that amazing at all. Come to think of it, it was quite simple, depressing, but simple. Saturday night (early Sunday morning) the three would-be adventurers suffered from a severe case of what people might tend to call a near-death experience. This shock to the system placed them in a chilled, somewhat more or less, (tending to the more rather than the less) comatose state.

In fact, the train had stopped in Toronto… and then left for more northerly destinations. The city was built inside a crater, and was entirely blanketed with what looked like more or less, (tending to the more rather than the less) snow.

Trauma: “Koreshdamnit! We’re in Sudbury!”

Tito cringed and reflexively went for his brass knuckles. Nervously he glanced around, until he saw Vindicator’s quizzical look, and slowly relaxed.

Tito: “Rob Smith.” he stated plainly as if it would clarify everything. It did.

“Ahhh.” Trauma and Vindicator responded, as if they understood everything. They did. As they leaped from the freight car, Trauma and Vindicator gave a cautious look around the old rail yard.

[writer: TRAUMA – All hail Krull!]

The three (dare I say?) friends walked several yards and approached a small, dimly lit tavern. Upon entering, all motion within ceased. 2 dozen weathered faces stared at them in confusion and caution.

Trauma: “Hi! We’re not from Sudbury!”

This seemed to appease the onlookers (At least for the moment) and they returned to their beer, billiards and jail bait.

Tito: “God it’s good to be inside! It has top be 10 below out there!”

Trauma: “Time for a beer!”

The Vindicator: “I think I’ll just have some coffee.”

Trauma: “I think you are a homosexual!”

Bartender: “Hey! I don’t want any trouble in here…”

Trauma: “Maybe YOU are homosexual too, eh???”

Trauma and Tito ordered their beers and goose-stepped to the nearest unoccupied booth… The Vindicator followed with his coffee, careful not to trip over the protruding boots that mysteriously shot out from under the table as he walked by…

[writer: The Vindicator – coincidence? I doubt it…]

Okay, so the trio are in this bar, see. Trauma is eyeing the booze.  Vindicator is eyeing the boots extended in his path and Tito is eyeing the jail bait (she may be fourteen, but she’s a very mature fourteen).

Suddenly a wall caves in and a man in leather on a motorcycle rides in with a mask on his face and a chain saw in one hand. A couple of burly patrons run up and are shredded to bits by the maniac. He proceeds to destroy the whole bar including all the patrons but excluding the unholy trio for some reason (probably blinded by the combined glint of light off of Tito’s Crisco, Trauma’s boot toe caps and Vindicator’s combination Zippo lighter and polished chrome Pez dispenser in the shape of the woman with the rose tattoo.) The patrons seem only slightly annoyed at being brutally butchered with a chain saw since this is what happens on a Sudbury Saturday night. Thanks to the liberal dose of toxic chemicals from Inco in already highly alcoholic beverages, Saturday Nights in this bar (called Inco Smelting Shed #5) always last for seven days.

As quickly as he appeared, the mysterious mass murderer speeds off down the road back to his job as an employee of the Post Office.

The trio, too jaded by lengthy histories of brutal violence to be affected by the carnage they have just witnessed goose-stepped out of the smouldering wreckage and wander into a field.

The three “friends” began to feel the chill of winter again but faced with little alternative, continued to walk. Suddenly they found themselves in a cow pasture and they noticed it was quite warm. Had they discovered a scientific anomaly that would immortalize them in the annals of scientific journals? Were they witnessing the profound heating potential of spontaneous cold fusion?

——-Uh , no. You see these cows were well fed and there was a lot of manure in the pasture. Not everyone realized this right away, however.  Tito was already visualizing his statue in front of Princeton and ridiculously huge sums of money in his bank account when he exclaimed,”  Sweet Koresh, we’re the first to discover that cold fusion smells like cow shit!”

[writer: …TITO SUAVE!!! (…alright! so it wasn’t that funny – sue me!)]

“NOW what do we do?” asked Tito.

“I’ve no idea..” mumbled Vindicator.

“I’ve got a cunning plan.” commented Trauma, both Tito and Vindicator moaned partially from minors hangovers but mostly from that one statement of Trauma’s that always seem to come up at the worst possible moment.

“Ok…so let’s hear it.” said Vindicator.

“Ok, we find a road, you see. Walk down it and find someone to give us directions, you see. Then we just go home. Easy eh?”

“Smart ass.” mumbled Vindicator and followed after Trauma who had made a start for the dirt road. Soon they chanced upon a paved road, soon comparatively speaking in relationship to the length of this story, that was paved.

“Ok wise guys, which way? The road runs east and west.” said Vindicator.

“We’ll flip a coin! Heads its east, tails its west” said Trauma.

“Just where the hell did you get all these extra brain cells you’re using up? Are they loaners? Flip the bloody thing!” Vindicator said.

Trauma reached into his pocket, then tried another, then another and finally his last one. “You got a quarter I can borrow?”

Tito sighed. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Trauma flipped it and it landed on its side on the road, perfectly balanced. Vindicator smacked his forehead in utter frustration. “Ok…so we stay here.” finalized Trauma.

“WHAT?! In the middle of nowhere?! You’re nuts! I think you’ve used up what little thinking power you have!” complained Vindicator.

“I think he’s right. Fate has decided thus and I shall abide by it.” commented Tito.

“Since when have YOU ever believed in Fate? I’m leaving! I’m going east! If you want to stay, fine. But I’m going!” and with that Vindicator marched off west.

“He’s going west….” muttered Trauma.

“I know.” smiled Tito.

Ten miles later Vindicator saw a car in the distance but it was hard to be sure for the sun was in his eyes as it was getting late. ‘The sun should be behind me!’ Vindicator walked closer and eventually heard cursing and swearing coming from under the hood.

“Bloody Fords! Piece of shit thing! Should have stuck with Chryslers!!! Would never have had this type of trouble!”

Vindicator couldn’t believe his ears. “Dragon?”

The guy under the hood raised his head and soundly banged it on the hood. “Vindicator?!”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, I uh,…umm…gee…wait a minute! Me? What are YOU doing here?”

“Well, I uh…umm…gee…that doesn’t matter. What is important is the fact that we are both here so let’s get this car fixed and get home!”

At that point Trauma and Tito caught up to Vindicator, swaggering extremely cocky-like.

Vindicator: I though you were staying put?

Trauma: We would have but we were curious as to how far you would go WEST when you said you wanted to go east…

Vindicator began to swell up but realized that the story must go on and decided to save it for later.

[writer: Dragon]

Now that our Trio is no longer a Trio, but rather a Trio with an extra guy, the story continues….

Somehow the four adventurers made their way back into Sudbury. Utterly confused by why they even staggered so far just to stomp through a field conveniently located in a Vortex anomaly of a Cold Fusion Zone, which smelled entirely like cow shit! Well they shrugged, at least the Koreshdamn story is finally moving again.

The lights have come on in the snow swept streets on this Sudbury Saturday Night. (It may be Thursday, but with the constant state of Sudbur-ites and their Inco induced intoxication… every night is Saturday Night) And most of these Sudbur-ites argue that whenever they look out their windows at night, everywhere they look is Sudbury!

Shivering from the weather induced chill, the four would-be adventurers stumbling into another hick-bar. Making their way to an open table, covered in beer, stale pretzels and nickel-ore ashtrays, they sat down and ordered a round of ale.

Vindicator: “Oh my Koresh! Would you look at that!” he exclaimed. For the first time they all noticed the naked women and the stage. This must be one of the famous strip clubs, Tito and Trauma have heard so much about.

With mouths open in shock. And their morals and scruples being hit from all sides by this degrading and perverted show, they all quickly pulled their chairs in and leaned closer to the stage so as to capture the full effect of this cultural ambience.

Tito: “Hey, Trauma.” looking around the room to double-check if it was actually real or if he was suffering from cold induced hallucination.

Trauma: “Yeah?” without taking his eyes off the large breasted female, he continued to drool in his cigarette butt strewn stein of beer.

Tito: “Look at all these chicks.” he said in a whisper, “What looks familiar to you.” After a few moments of eyeing all the naked dancers it hit him. His eyes widened and he straightened his back. Looking at Tito to silently confirm it.

Trauma: “I think we should leave.” Tapping the other two they stood and backed out the door. Outside they quickly goose-stepped away from the strip joint.

Vindicator: “Whats wrong? Why did we have to leave?”

Tito: “Because… all the dancers had the same set of matching earings and a necklace.” Together the Trio screamed. Dragon had absolutely no idea what this meant, but he screamed as well. Their goose-stepping picked up its pace….

[writer: TRAUMA – Amusing?]

The Trio (and the other guy) ran from this den of naked Stepford wives… They were running so hard and so fast that Tito began sweating sauerkraut!

Dragon: “Why are we running?”

Trauma: “Trust me… You DON’T want to stick around there!”

The Vindicator: “Yeah! You may NEVER be able to leave! And you’ll lose all your money… It’s worse than Televangelism in there!”

Dragon: “I don’t know why, but I have a real craving for chicken just now…”

[writer: The Vindicator]

The wind whistled through the trees. The streets were empty and the light snow on the ground would soon disappear. In a few days it would be Halloween. Trauma, Tito, Vindicator and Dragon huddled in an old abandoned nickel mine on the outskirts of Sudbury.

Trauma : We’re hundreds of miles from my car, my coat and we’re freezing our asses off in some Koresh forsaken town. This is stupid.

Shivering they stood deep inside the mine shaft.

Tito : Hey guys? Do you think this is safe? I mean we can’t even see and this is after all an abandoned nickel mine.

Vindicator : Yeah… but what could possibly happen.

Crack! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhh!! The timing was perfect.

Trauma : I think that was Dragon. The sound came from over here- AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhh!!

Vindicator : Hold it. I have a Zippo.

Flicking the Zippo on, Tito and Vindicator gazed at a dark hole covered in what was until a few seconds ago rotting timber. It was a shaft leading down into the depths of Inco’s dried out veins of nickel.

Tito : Are you guys alright?

Trauma : I’m fine. Good thing I landed on something soft.

After Trauma got off of Dragon’s chest they searched the area. Good thing Trauma carried a Zippo as well. The lumber was dry enough to fasten together a makeshift torch and soon the bottom of the shaft was visible.

Vindicator : Don’t worry guys. We’ll get you up here in no time. Let me just fasten this rope to the over head beam.

Tito : do you think it will hold their weight.

Vindicator : I dunno. Let me check.

Snap! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! Nope. The debris and dust extinguished all the flames and again it was pitch dark. Above them they heard a loud creaking and than a heavy SNAP! The overhead beam gave way and knocked Tito into the shaft. AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhh!! Still in pitch darkness they searched around.

Trauma: Hey Tito. You okay.

Tito : Yeah. Good thing I landed on something soft.

After getting off Vindicator back they re-lit the torch. Trapped, they all knew. What now?????………..


Once he had begun breathing again, The Vindicator stood up and, his eyes now adjusted to the light, began to look around. On the far end of the pit was a dark shape, but the edges were smooth so he ambled over the rocks for a closer look. He eyeballed the shape in the darkness for a few moments. This was not working, so he pulled out his Zippo. With one deft movement which (had he seen it) would have made Trauma VERY jealous, The Vindicator lit the wick and saw blue.

The Vindicator: “I see something blue!”

Tito: “That’s my tongue… I had a jawbreaker.”

The Vindicator: “Not unless you have an 8-foot tongue.”

Tito: “That’s what the ladies tell me!”

Trauma: “C bu O ll U sh G it H !!!”

The Vindicator ran his fingers up and down the length of the blue. It was very cold, and very smooth. He walked around to the back, tripped over a rock and stumbled forward right into the blue. Surprisingly, it gave under his weight and he landed flat on his stomach. The Vindicator realized he was now inside the blue… He stood up.

Seeing the new light source from the far side of the blue, Trauma, Tito and Dragon made their way towards the place that The Vindicator would soon outright deny tripping.

Trauma: “What did you find, Vind?”

The Vindicator: “I’m not sure… But its blue.”

Dragon: “Is it a whale?”

Trauma: “What the hell would a whale be doing in an abandoned Nickel mine? It’s not, is it?”

The Vindicator: “No… It’s not a whale…”

Stepping into the blue, the group stood in stunned silence.

The Group: “…”, they said, stunned.

The Vindicator: “There’s a control panel in the center…”

Dragon: “Unbelievable… It’s bigger inside than out!”

Trauma: “This is incredible!”

Tito: “This is a blatant rip off!”

Trauma: “What do you mean?”

Tito: “We’re going to steal it aren’t we?”

Trauma: “Yeah.”

Tito: “This is a blatant rip off!”

The Vindicator: “I think I found something…”

The Vindicator pushed a button on the console and the inner doors closed.

Dragon: “Great, now we’re trapped!”

Tito: “I don’t want to listen to him whine anymore…”

Trauma: “Well, you can’t kill him. It’s in his contract.”

Tito : “Jesus H. Koresh!”

Flicking a couple more buttons, The Vindicator brought the great machine to life. A small view screen appeared on the far wall. It was black.

Dragon: “Does that mean the view screen is broken?”

The Vindicator: “I think it means that there’s no light outside this thing.”

Dragon: “Oh. Never mind…”

The Vindicator: “What does ‘Enter Time Co-Ordinates’ mean?”

Trauma: “You’re asking ME?”

The Vindicator: “Right.. Sorry. Well, let’s look around. I’ll go see what’s the next room…”

The Vindicator walked through the door opposite the view screen and disappeared. The rest of the group examined the control panel, but seemed unable to interpret any of the controls…

Moments later, The Vindicator emerged wearing a long trench coat, scarf and a fedora.

The Vindicator: “Look what I found.”

Trauma: “There are very few people in the universe who could get away with wearing an outfit like that. You are not one of them.”

The Vindicator: “Sez you… Hey! There’s something in the pocket… Jelly babies!”

Dragon: “What does this button do?”

Dragon, silly boy that he is, didn’t wait for an answer… He just pushed away!

The Vindicator: “What? The one you just pushed?”

Dragon: “Yeah.”

The Vindicator: “The one marked ‘Dematerialize’?”

Dragon: “Yeah.”

The Vindicator: “Dunno.”

Just then, a rather tall, blonde man with a stick of celery pinned to his jacket was spared the embarrassment of colliding with the blue… It was gone.

[writer: The Vindicator – With apologies to the BBC…]


CCC&S Story 1.5 (3/3) The Story Continued…

Just then, as the trio (+ Pimpernel), stood there contemplating how they would find their nemesis Dr. Naughty, the solution literally bumped into them. A scrawny little pencil neck staggered backwards as he looked up to see a violence deprived gang of ruffians watching him eagerly. It was a mutual recognition between Pimpernel and the (SOLUTION).

Pimpernel: Well, well, well… if it isn’t Miklos.

Trauma ears turned a colorful shade of pink which usually meant he was starting to get slightly inebriated, or in this case really happy. As Miklos attempted to crab crawl backwards, Tito stomped on his chest and pinned him helplessly to the ground.

Miklos: mummumu-mm-mmm-muummm.

Pimpernel: Where is your master?

Without hesitation Miklos spilled the beans. After his twenty-minute explanation, which was more than occasionally interrupted with pleas of mercy, the trio stood and contemplated quietly. Well… Pimpernel contemplated seriously. Tito was grinding his combat boots into Miklos’s chest. Trauma accidentally thought about David Suzuki and shuddered at the scientific jargon that flooded his mind. He searched his pockets for tin foil, but the best he could do was a rusty Molson Canadian bottle cap. Vindicator flexed his ego, just to make sure it still worked. Dragon searched for Penelope. And Penelope was momentarily nowhere to be found.

Pimpernel: Okay Tito, I believe him. Let him go.

Tito: What? We out number him 5 to 1, and you want me to just let him go?

Pimpernel: He has served his purpose. There is no more to be gained from him.

Tito: Like hell! I say we bash his head in just to get our rocks off.

Trauma: I hear ya, brother!

Dragon: Wait! My Yoga powers sence that he is not telling the truth. That… or the beef jerky I bought off Baldrick.

A few more moments passed.

Trauma: I have an idea. I will get the truth from him.

Trauma walked up to Miklos and pulled him to his feet. He gripped Miklos’ face with his fingers and started concentrating.

Vindicator: What the hell are you doing?

Trauma: It’s a little trick I picked up south of the border. Its called the Vulcan Mexi Melt(tm).

Vindicator: Excuse me?

Trauma: What it does is, it channels my bio-kinetic energy into a transferable force which flows from my body into his mind. The infusion of the bio-static charges fries his brain until it collapses into a half-pita, cheese filled fast food.

Vindicator: And the purpose of this is…?

Trauma: Just what I said.

Pimpernel: But wouldn’t that kill him? What possible use can that have?

Trauma (giggling): Too late…

Miklos slumped to the ground, the scent of three different spicy cheeses wafting through the air. Upon quick inspection, Pimpernel declared Miklos brain-dead. The trio started on their way to the location given by Miklos.

Vindicator: (to Trauma) You did that on purpose.

Trauma: Tee Hee.

[writer – TRAUMA – Hows that? ]

Pimpernel: Well he told us enough. I really think you had him scared. When he started talking about what he did to his dead Grandmother…

Vindicator: He looked like a rabbit in a cosmetics lab!

Trauma: I say we go fetch the Caddy.

Pimpernel:  You have a car?

Trauma:  It’s not just a car.  It’s THE Car! Before we go anywhere I gotta make sure no primates are praying to the almighty headlight gods because we left it sitting outside of the town.

Vindicator: We are not the most popular visitors back there.  I’m not a big fan of crazed villagers with pitchforks and torches…

Trauma: You worry too much.

Tito: Yeah! (munch) I never did get to “Ye olde Women’s Shelter”

Pimpernel: Tito, What are you eating?

Tito: A Mexi Melt(tm), why?

The vomiting was tremendous.

[writer – The Scarlet Pimpernel]

Trauma: ok, we’ve only got beef jerky for less than a day, no water, no J.D. we’ve got a walk of over 50 miles ahead of us and it’s all uphill, I say we get a move on.

Vindicator: damn, at least we had that lowly peasant Baldric with his donkey cart as transport before.

Tito: donkey cart?! Luxury! Why I remember walking 70 miles a day barefoot through minefields and abandoned glass factories to work in the lead mines for free. It was uphill both ways and there were hailstorms 3 times a week with hail as big as your head! At least I was happy.

Trauma: you candy-ass. I may not have been barefoot on my daily 90 mile trips but only because I had to wear rope sandals made out of razor wire and bomb shrapnel. Also I wore a backpack with 150 pounds of rocks in it the whole way. When it rained, which was always, I wore a steel helmet with a lightning rod on the top. My only pleasure came from the fact that the rain was actually typhus laced with sulfuric acid.

Vindicator: yeah really, once my car broke down and I had to walk almost 3 blocks to school.

Tito: Yep, so this should be a stroll through the park since we got plenty of beef jerky for the trip.

And so the Trio set off on their 50 mile trek across unfamiliar territory in renewed spirits confident that soon they would be back in the trusty Cahone-mobile ready to resume their historic mission.

One mile down the road…

Tito: hey guys, we’re out of jerky. What the hell are we going to do now?

Meanwhile in another dimension, two sinister figures gazed into a view screen upon which the Trio was presently shown in their predicament.

Dr. Naughty: check out the wop putting away that beef jerky like there’s no tomorrow, Oh, how I hate them!

Erin Miklos: huhuhuh… I hate them, too.

(Erin Miklos, who had been brain-dead as a result of the Vulcan mexi-melt had been cured through a minor operation involving a brain transplant from a gnat, there was even enough leftover gnat-brains to act as spare parts in case of future “mishaps”)

[writer – ????]

Dr. Naughty: They must be destroyed or else I know that despite their incredible stupidity, they will get in the way of my plans.

Merin Iklos: yeah, like, I almost would have killed them before but I…

Dr. Naughty: shut-up, you had your chance, this time I’m going to have the job done right.&lt;reaches over and presses intercom button&gt; Send in….”Him”.

The door to Dr. Naughty’s techno-magical inner sanctum slid open and in walked a huge figure dressed in black with heavy footsteps.

Eril Miknos: <gasp!> Oh no! Not the hated MR. PUMPY!!!

Dr. Naughty: hehehe… Yes! Yes! Oh, what a rascal I am, nyuk, nyuk, nyuk! Okay, Mr. Pumpy, you see these troublesome personages on the viewscreen?

Enire Soklim: huuhuhuh, yup!

Dr. Naughty: shut-up, I was talking to Mr. Pumpy.

Mr. Pumpy silently nodded yes.

Dr. Naughty: Good! Now you know what I want you to do, and it ain’t prayin’… first, what you’ll do is…

Meanwhile, back at the trio…

Pimpernel: for the last time, I don’t have any jerky, Tito, and no, I don’t have any tinfoil, Trauma.

Trauma: did you check your pockets?

[writer – …Tito Suave!!! …it’s going, someplace… ]

The time passed slowly for our intrepid heroes.  Almost as slowly as the miles. Eventually they came to the carrion-strewn field of their last battle with the peasants.  The vultures were circling high overhead, patiently waiting for the trespassers to vacate their buffet.

Pimpernel: “Whew!  What a stink!”

The Vindicator: “There’s only about 5 miles to town.  We may encounter some of  the villagers soon.”

Dragon: “I’ll use my yoga powers of concentration to put an S.E.P. shield around us.”

Trauma: “What’s that?”

The Vindicator: “Don’t ask until you replenish your tinfoil supply.”

A few dogs barked as they walked on, but no-one seemed to notice them as they passed by the outskirts of the town.  At last their beloved Cahonemobile could be seen on the horizon.  They were almost there.

Dr. Naughty: “Keep going, fools.  Walk right into your own demise! Muahhahahaahahahaha!”

[writer – The Vindicator… Warming up. ]

After the 8-track had been successfully humbled by the pimpernel saving a couple of Magic the Gathering cards into the inner workings.  The car was started and the trio headed toward the tower of Merlin the great(finally!).

Pimpernel: So why do you call yourselves a trio when there is four of you?

Dragon: Five (Penelope: B’ka)

Pimpernel: sorry, five.

Trauma:  Only three of us are really important.

Dragon:  Sorry you had to hear about it like this, Vindicator.

Vindicator:  Dragon.  I sense some kind of Yogic distortion.  There is great pain in your future.

Dragon:  Really I don’t sense any… ARGH! VINDICATOR GET OFF ME! UNCLE!

Off in the distance was a large black obsidian spire that went up, way up reaching for the clouds like some great reaching thing.

Pimernel:  Is that the tower of Merlin?

Tito: It’s only a model.

Pimpernel: Shhh!

Just then in a great puff of lavender smoke that smelled of raisins and vinegar, appeared an old man in gray robes and an arrogant scowl.

Merlin: I am Merlin the Magnificent.  I have awaited your coming for almost thirty posts.  I knew that the day would come that the belligerent ones would one day cross my threshold.

Tito:  Listen mister, we were hoping…

Pimpernel: Let me talk to him.  This is my kind of people.

The pimpernel stood forward and broke into a sharp Shaksperian tone before Tito could object.

Pimpernel:  Oh great and powerful sorcerer.  We have traveled many leagues to gain aid from your all-encompassing wisdom the means to end our quest and right the grave injustices that have befallen our people.

Merlin:  Are you done?

Pimpernel: Yes

Merlin:  Good.  I can get you to the reality which you seek, but first you must each pass individual tests of bravery and skill.  Come into my tower and the question shall begin…

Here’s the deal, we will each post our own characters individual test and then someone can start the story up again when we get to the other side

[writer –   That Damned Divisive Pimpernel ]

The Pimpernel Followed Merlin down into a deep cave that smelled like it was recycling the air from a meat locker.  He clutched his well-worn, lock stitched, indestructible Tilley hat close to his long black hair.  It had seemed like such a good idea before.  I mean, go through a dimensional portal, piss off an inter-dimensional arch-criminal and hook up with a bunch of ruffians that use you to open doors they think might explode.  Simple right? The Pimpernel was now hooked inexorably into a plot-line that ran like Hitchhikers guide to the galaxy with the screenplay written by Quentin Tarantino.

Pimpernel:  So what’s this test like?

Merlin: Perilous.

The Pimpernel waited eagerly for Merlin to elaborate, but when the old wizard did not say another word he tried a less subtle approach.

Pimpernel:  So how do I pass this test?

Merlin:  You must follow this cave till it leads to the other end.

Pimpernel:  What’s at the other end?

Merlin:  The end.

Pimpernel:  Did you really mean that to sound ominous or was that just a funny little play on words for my benefit?

Merlin’s no-nonsense stare was a source of much squirming on the Pimpernel’s behalf.  Merlin disappeared in a puff of smoke leaving The Pimpernel with no one to talk to but himself.  He thought about taking out the Star Trek novel out of one of the pockets in his coat he used for concealing various works of escapist literature, but felt he had best keep going down the hall.

Pimpernel:  I really hate talking to myself.

Pimpernel:  Really you could have fooled me.

Pimpernel:  Why are you so sarcastic all the time?

Pimpernel:  Will you guys be quiet? I can’t hear myself think!

After such a stern verbal chastisement the Pimpernel hurried on his way. He was barely a hundred feet down the corridor when the corridor expanded into what seemed to be a large English garden.  Sitting among the trees was a young blond woman wearing a skimpy revealing 18th century period dress that revealed her ample bosom.  She sat with a small pink dog between her legs that filled the Pimpernel with intense envy.

Woman:  Greetings, Traveler. I am Lady D’Grate.  What brings you to my father’s manor-house?

Pimpernel:  Any motives I had before seem pale when compared to the unexpected pleasure of your company.

Woman:  Oh dear!  My brother mustn’t hear you talk this way! Talk more softly.

Pimpernel:  I fear that any delay could reflect badly upon me.  My companions will no doubt be waiting for me…

Lady D’Grate frowned and bit her lower lip.  She lifted the small dog off her lap and stood meaningfully.  She walked over to The Pimpernel and put her hand on his shoulder.

Pimpernel:  Oh well, I wouldn’t have waited for them…

Woman:  Don’t talk, stranger…

Pimpernel:  If you insist Milady.

Woman: Please, call me Catherine.

The two collapsed onto the bed of grass and were startled by the yelp of the little pink dog they landed on. They started steaming up the jungle when all of a sudden a revelation occurred to the Pimpernel.

Pimpernel:  Wait a minute, your name is Catherine D’Grate?

The Pimpernel, despite all other biological distractions was forced to snicker.

Woman:  Do not belittle my house by mocking my family name! How dare you, you base fiend!  My brother will make short work of you!

The woman shouted and shouted wile desperately trying to get her clothes back into a state where she could deny the whole thing.  Through the bushes rushed a burly man dressed like a barbarian.

Woman:  Peter!  This man was making improper advances toward me!

Pimpernel:  Oh boy…

Peter:  You dishonored my sister! now you die!

Pimpernel:  Look neighbor.  I don’t want and trouble.

Peter:  You will die now!

Pimpernel:  I can see your a reasonable man…

The large burly man tried to flatten the Pimpernel with a blow to the head but it hit the Tilley hat and deflected harmlessly away.

Peter:  You will pay for that!

Pimpernel:  I can’t win, can I?

The battle was long and hard, basically because The pimpernel never seemed to run out of Trees to put in the way of the fight.  All the time making belittling remarks about how foolish a fight this was.  It is all well and good to feel outrage about your sisters dishonor.  But Peter would be damned if he was going to waste a whole afternoon chasing around her latest stud.  Like a Like a baseball player on strike, Peter just up and walked away.

Pimpernel:  I guess I can win after all.

The Pimpernel continued on his quest.  He headed down the corridor and came upon Merlin standing at the mouth of the cave.

Pimpernel:  Can I leave?

Merlin:  You have to wait for the judges ruling.

Pimpernel:  What do you mean?

Merlin:  The test was set to measure your self control and fighting prowess.  The object was to resist Catherine’s advances and Defeat her brother.  You did these things but in a way that suggests a character of little willpower, no sensibilities and an intense cowardice.

Pimpernel:  Oh well, you can’t argue with results.

A scroll appeared in Merlin’s bony hand.

Merlin:  I can’t believe this!  The Judges allowed you to pass!

Pimpernel:  Those judges must know how to have fun.  If you will excuse me I have some belligerent ones to catch up with…

The End of The Test

[writer – ????]

Merlin returned to the audience chamber where the rest of the Trio were still waiting. Merlin pointed his staff at Tito and chuckled,”your turn, Chico.”

Vindicator: Where’s that damned &lt;insert suitable adjective&gt; Pimpernel?

Merlin: Your friend is safe (waves staff at wall mirror upon which an image of the Pimpernel playing a game of Magic, the gathering by himself in another part of the tower.

Tito accompanied Merlin down several passages. Finally Tito asked,” so, where are we going?”

Merlin: YOU are going to take your test and I’m sure you’ll fail.

Tito: Damn! I knew I shouldn’t have believed that wench back at the inn when she told me she was clean. I bet she gave me the clap, didn’t she?

Merlin stopped walking while Tito continued forward several more steps.

“I can’t answer that, but I will say that you strike me as a loudmouthed, loutish dullard,” said Merlin.

“Hey,” replied Tito,” I let that Chico crack slide but push your luck, staff-boy.”

Tito turned to face Merlin as he said this but Merlin, however, had disappeared and Tito suddenly found himself outdoors on a mountaintop held in the grip of a winter storm. He was now dressed as a circa World War One military aviator and he could see several meters in the distance the wreckage of what appeared to be a small dirigible that crashed on the mountaintop. In front of the wreckage huddled a group of men in almost similar uniforms to Tito’s. Tito trudged through the snow towards the group.

[writer -Tito Suave – with apologies to “The Red Tent and Red Skorpion” ]

One of the three huddled men stood up as Tito approached and addressed him.

“Captain, these are all the supplies we’ve recovered from the Hohenzollern,” he said pointing to several parcels at his feet.

“I think we should abandon the crash site and find shelter from this weather,” said another man.

Tito could now see how the uniforms differed. A crest on each tunic showed a different coat of arms underneath a nametag. Tito mentally noted his present company: WWI-era Germany – Schuller; Ottoman Empire – Murad; Kingdom of Bulgaria – Orlov. He scrutinized the insignia on his own uniform: Austro-Hungarian Empire – Tito. Murad had just spoken, preceded by Schuller. Schuller spoke again.

Schuller: No, we should remain with the wreckage. This storm is bound to break within a week at most at which time the great German zeppelin “Kaiser Wilhelm” will be sent to rescue us.

Orlov: But our food supply will only last for two days, three at most, we’ll probably be dead if and when help arrives.

Murad: there is nothing to forage or hunt for this high up. We must leave now before we are weakened to the point of having to place our lives on the chance of a zeppeling finding us.

The men looked to Tito for a final decision seeing as how he was presumably in command. After thinking a moment, Tito spotted a revolver among the recovered supplies and, picking it up he spoke to the men.

Tito: This is what we’re going to do. Schuller, you and Orlov will improvise a shelter out of pieces of the wreckage while Murad and I go investigate what looked like animal tracks that I saw while I was scouting around. I’m confidant that our food shortage will be somewhat alleviated when I return.

Tito and Murad trudged off leaving Orlov and Schuller behind.

Murad: (as they walk out of sight of the wreckage): I guess the attempt to have the Central Alliance be the first to successfully land an aircraft of Mount Everest is a complete failure. Don’t worry, Captain, my report to the Sultan won’t hold you as being solely responsible for the crash.

Tito: Hey, I think I saw something go behind that rock. Go around it; I’ll go the other way and when you flush it out, I’ll shoot it.

Murad, rube that he was, started in earnest to follow Tito’s directions. Tito wasted no time in retracing his steps after a couple of meters until he stood right behind the creeping Murad. The two point-blank shots from behind felled Murad almost instantly. After looting the body, Tito calmly walked back to the crash site.

[writer – ????]

As Tito approached the wreckage, Orlov and Schuller, who had heard the shots, stopped their work and looked at Tito.

Orlov: What happened? Where’s Murad?

Tito: he went berserk and attacked me, I shot him in self-defence.

Schuller: but he was unarmed.

Tito: he had a stick.

Orlov and Schuller just looked at him.

Tito: it was a pointy stick.

Schuller: you lied, you took him with you so it’d be easier to kill him.

Tito: I wasn’t lying. I said that our food situation would be improved when I came back. Now we have and extra two or three days of food between us.

Orlov: (charging Tito) you maniac! Let’s get ‘im! (Schuller charges also)

Tito gets only one shot which fells Orlov who tumbles down the nearby cliff(Kurt) edge to his screaming death. Schuler knocks it down the mountain with Orlov before Tito can fire again and the two remaining men grapple fiercely. The two are fairly evenly matched and for several minutes, neither can gain an advantage.

Tito: (through clenched teeth) I’m going to kill you, German.

Schuller: …actually, my family emigrated to Germany when I was small.

Tito: from where?

Schuller: Czechoslovakia.

A surge of HATE energizes Tito’s body and after pulling out his brass knuckles, lays a heavy punch to Schuler’s face. Schuler let’s go and brings both hands to his face. Tito regains his feet.

Tito: okay, Schuller, start walking.

Schuller slowly gets up but makes no step. Finally he looks up and sees the blood on his hands .

Schuller: You broke my fuckin’ nose.

Tito: I said MOVE, Czech bastard!

Tito punctuates his last order with a heavy brass shod hay-maker to Schuller’s bloody face again with enough force to knock him over the cliff(Kurt) as well to join Orlov somewhere on the bottom.

Tito curses at only having been able to loot Murad’s body. The turk only possessed 25 drachmas and a membership to “Friendly Omar’s Turkish Baths” in Istanbul. Tito arrogantly swaggers to the improvised shelter built by the late Orlov and Schuller and sets himself to making himself comfortable as he starts to snack on his now more than ample rations. Mmmm, he comments upon seeing the

food selection available to him. Beef Jerky! Yum-mo!

Just then, the wind-blasted outdoors are replaced by stone walls and Merlin appears.

Tito: how was that? pretty good, eh?

Merlin: your performance was horrible. You were supposed to prove your loyalty, resourcefulness, courage by giving your men leadership in their dark hour. Instead, your actions wer selfish, cowardly, brutal and criminal.

As they reentered the main part of the tower, an owl delivered a letter to Merlin. As Merlin opened it he cast a suspicious eye on Tito,” and another thing, give back the stuff you pilfered from the test, whatever is missing comes out of my paycheque.”

Merlin looks at the letter and his jaw drops open.

Merlin: What!? Well, as I expected you got zip on performance and courage but somehow you squeaked by on points for creativity and artistic merit. You passed.

Tito: I passed? So, you mean, I don’t have the clap?

End of Marshal Tito’s Test

Merlin: Come, you are next.

Trauma followed Merlin down the winding corridors, the echoes of Merlin’s staff clicking rhythmically as they went on.

Trauma: So whats my test?

Merlin: Your test, like your companions, will reflect a side of you which you have poor control over and must concentrate your efforts to rectify that situation.

Trauma continued to follow in silence, not knowing exactly what to say. In fact he hadn’t the slightest clue what Merlin had said. Damn! Never any tinfoil when ya need it!

They came to a halt outside a massive reinforced wooden door.

Trauma: So… whats behind the door?

Merlin: Your test.

Trauma: It would be nice to know what that is.

He cursed under his breath, hoping that this one would not ask and therefore not know what he must do, resulting in a guaranteed failure.

Merlin: You must learn to control your temper. Under no circumstances must you allow your anger to control you, or allow yourself to lash out in violence.

Trauma: Oh please… I have self-restraint. My temper is not out of control. Just let me get this test over with, beard-boy.

And so Trauma opened the door and stepped through… right in the middle of a … Fine Crystal and Bone China Shop.

Trauma: What the fuck is this? Fagot shit?

Just then, from the behind the maze of glass shelving, filled with thousands of pieces of the most expensive and delicate crystal, glass and china, the shop keeper called out.

Shop Owner: Yoo-hoo! Hello.

Trauma looked over and saw the dainty little wisp, coming towards him.

Shop Owner: How may I help you?

Fuck! Thought Trauma. That Merlin is a lousy little sneak. He never said anything about fagots!

Trauma: Don’t touch me.

Shop Owner: Excuse me?

Trauma: You heard me, queer-boy, don’t fucking touch me.

The shop owner was taken aback at such rude and politically incorrect behavior.

Shop Owner: humpf. Well, I never. This is my shop and I don’t have to tolerate this abuse from some half-witted Neanderthal like you-

He didn’t even have time to finish his sentence. Trauma had grabbed him by the throat and was throttling him with a series of punches to the face. The aisles were overly narrow. Obviously specially designed for these types of shops. But Trauma was doing surprisingly well… he managed to beat the owner into unconsciousness without even rattling the shelves. Quite proud of himself, he let the shop owner slump to the floor, and as he did the limp arm  nicked a ridiculously expensive  crystal glass. It wobbled and fell, smashing on the floor.

From above, Merlin’s voice boomed in laughter. “I knew you would fail!”

Well that was it! Trauma turned and tipped over a shelf, toppling it onto the one beside it so as to create a domino effect. Crystal, glass and bone china crashed and shattered across the floor. Picking up the shop owner, he heaved him into a glass display case.

Trauma: You laughing at me? You fucking laughing at me? No one laughs at me, you fuck! Failed, eh? Fail this!

He stomped across the glass strewn floor, smashing the pieces into smaller pieces. He began kicking over al the shelves, and tipping the display cases. He picked up the shop owner and slammed him into some more glass cases. Trauma picked up a wooded chair from behind the cash counter and started smashing again.

Trauma: How do you like that? And that… and that… and that…?

Nearly half an hour passed before there was nothing else to break. The huge door opened and Trauma walked back into the gloom of Merlin’s Tower, still holding the splintered and busted chair.

Merlin stood there with a smug look on his face, holding a scroll which he was in the process of opening. As he scanned it, he jaw dropped and his smile faded.

Merlin: You… you… passed?

Trauma: Fucking, eh.

Merlin: You scored zero right across the board. However, the judges gave you full points because they hated that Shop Owner with a passion. He was always giving them grief with all his lobby for affirmative action and gay rights, and all the donations he was gathering for green peace and the march of dimes.

Just as Trauma was about to head back to join the Trio, he stopped and turned back towards Merlin. Merlin began to sweat. Trauma walked past him to a shelf full of vials and flasks and various other alchemical equipment. Still eyening Merlin, Trauma gripped the edge of the shelf case and pushed it over. The contents smashed and spilled across the floor. He then walked back and as he passed by Merlin again, he said:

Trauma: And that’s for laughing at me, spell-boy.

[writer – TRAUMA – The End of Trauma’s Test. ]

“You’re next,” said Merlin, as he poked The Vindicator in the ribs with his staff.

The Vindicator: “Hey Merlin!  What’s that staff doing stuck halfway up your ass?”

Merlin: “Oh no, I’m not falling for that!  Just follow me.”

Merlin led The Vindicator down the hallway, into a darkened room.  In the room was a small wooden table upon which sat a candle.  The dim light produced by the candle was just enough to illuminate the door on the opposite side of the room.

The Vindicator: “What now?”

Merlin: “Just go throw that door… All will be made clear soon.”

The Vindicator: “What if I choose not to go?”

Merlin: “Then you die here.”

The Vindicator: “Hmm…  Nice lookin’ door.  Mind if I try it?”

The Vindicator turned the doorknob and the room began to twist around him, as if reality had been bent a millionth of a degree.

When the teamster with the jack hammer left his head, The Vindicator realized that he was in a dark, noisy nightclub somewhere.

Women in tight leather outfits were rubbing up against overly hairy men on the dance floor… Off to the right, some chick was rubbing up against some geek playing Mortal Kombat.

Seeing a gorgeous blonde at the bar, [writer – The Vindicator made his move.  A quick blast of binaca and he was in motion.

The Vindicator: “Hey baby, wanna dance?”

Blonde Chick: “Sorry, I don’t dance with dorks.”

The Vindicator: “‘Scuse me… I didn’t realize there was a lesbian convention in town.”

The Vindicator mosey’d across the dance floor (as only the truly arrogant can), eyeing women and laughing at all the smaller guys.

“Hey baby,” he said to a cute brunette in a white blouse and jeans, “wanna dance?”

Chick #2: “Fuck off.”

The Vindicator: “M-O-O-N.  That spells Dyke!”

Strutting up to the bar, [writer – The Vindicator bumped into a fabulous red-head…

“Hi.  Wanna dance?”, he said.

Red-Head: “Do I look desperate to you?”

The Vindicator: “No.  You look like a cheap whore.”

He ordered a Molson Dry and leaned casually against the bar for a moment.

The Vindicator: “Too bad all these chicks are queer… We could have had a good time.”

Suddenly, The Vindicator was back in the room with the candle on the table.

Merlin stood behind him grinning.

A small, winged monkey handed him a scroll, which Merlin read.

Merlin: “I can’t believe this!”

The Vindicator: “What?”

Merlin: “You passed!  The whole test was designed to display your tremendous ego as a negative trait, but the judges felt that anyone who could get turned down by women as often as that, and STILL think they’re the centre of the Universe deserves to pass.  It also says that the judges have a lot of trouble with dykes at the bars.”

The Vindicator: “So that’s it?”

Merlin: “Yes.”

The Vindicator: “Damn… I didn’t get to finish my beer.”

[writer – The Vindicator – finally.]

CCC&S Story 1.5 (2/3) The Story Continued…

Tito ran around the bar several times before he finally snatched Dragon’s chicken as a living shield.  This normally wouldn’t have deterred Trauma in the slightest if Dragon hadn’t been forced into the melee by Penelope’s danger.  With the help of Vindicator, who sensed the imminent breakdown of party unity, Trauma was temporarily restrained.

Tito:  Trauma, chill!  I got a lot of mad money out of that sap.

Trauma:  You better either have enough to replace that bottle, or your intestinal track.

Tito:  I have enough to keep you pissed all week.

Vindicator: There is more ale in this time period than drinking water.

This interesting fact seemed to improve Trauma’s mood, and together the companions had a lovely evening of Drink and debauchery.

Later that evening, Dragon felt his Yoga Powers trying to tell him something, a low irritating buzz in his head that sounded like an oven timer.  At first he thought it was just a hangover but then it became more distinct. He began to feel like someone had been using his eyeballs to place their golf tee’s and

play through.  He got up and hurried to Vindicator’s room.

He rushed through the door and Vindicator Sat up suddenly, sending the naked young woman that was on top of him crashing to the floor.

Vindicator: Didn’t you know Koresh punishes little boys who go where their not wanted.

Dragon:  I feel a Yogic Distortion Field of massive intensity forming around this Bar.  It’s really trippy, I think something really shitty is about to happen.

Vindicator:  That’s not much to go on, Dragon.

Dragon: I think it’s enough reason to get going though.

Vindicator:  I guess we will have to inturupt Trauma, Tito and their five friends…

Dragon: After you.

Dragon and Vindicator were headed down the hall past a window when Dragon noticed that he was squinting for a reason other than his newfound migrane. He looked out the window and felt the sunlight streaming past him.

Dragon: Vind, Didn’t the sun go down three hours ago?

Vindicator:  We’ve been temporally translocated.

Dragon:  I’m not the one who is going to tell Trauma.

Penelope: Buk B’ka

Vindicator: You said it!

Sorry guys, but I’m not ready to wait Two weeks.  Call it beginers enthusiasim.  Besides you can see another peice of my work while you resolve your busy schedules.

[writer – That Damned Continuing Pimpernel ]

Yes indeed, some major weird shit was going on around the small village – more than usual when Baldric was in town. As Vindicator and Dragon made their way down the hall of the tavern/inn to find the rest of the Trio, something unusual was going on outside the tavern.

Behind the tavern stood an outhouse with about five people waiting in line impatiently to avail themselves of the facilities. At long last, Tito swaggered arrogantly out with a newspaper tucked under his arm. He grinned at the first man in line, an elderly gent, and said to him,” she’s all yours, admiral.” He walked back towards the inn, intent of resuming his wenching.

[writer – Tito -damn, out of time, will continue in next post… ]

Before he went in, he was momentarily distracted by a spectacle on the street. A man dressed in tattered rags had a pair of stained y-front gachis on his head, an unbent coathanger in his hand with a dead pigeon taped to the end of it. He ran up the street clumsily periodically hopping on one or both feet and shrieking at the top of his lungs,” I’m a wizard! I’m a wizard! I’m a wizard!” This man was none other than the hated Goliath (cameo bill is in the mail). Tito didn’t recognize Goliath underneath all that grime but one day the story of how Goliath saved humanity by inadvertently destroying the DeathStar of the previous story will eventually be told. Tito mumbled something about bringing back caning and stepped towards the door of the bar. Suddenly, the sky brightened and Tito spun around on the heel of his slick Italian dress shoes, looked up at the sky and gasped,”whut the…”

Meanwhile, inside the bar, Trauma was building up his resistence to time-space anomalies, in other words, drinking heavily with a crowd of local bumpkin onlookers interspersed with some fine wenches. Some of the uglier ones were hanging on his sides trying to get him to take them back to his room. In all, it was a typical night at a bar for Trauma. Baldric was rushing around the bar getting the last few drops out of empty drinks and pouring them into a flask, (all the time thinking how he could sell it and give all the money to his dear friends:Tito, Trauma, et. al.) The barkeeper finally spotted him and exclaimed,” Hey! Freako! I said to stay out of here! Nick, I think this weirdo needs some help leaving.”

Some large skinhead picked up Baldric and kicked him down the two steps leading out the door of the inn. The barkeeper walked over to Trauma’s table and said,” hey, it’s about time you paid your bar tab, stranger.”

Trauma looked up and just grinned at him with his glazed eyes indicating his degree of intoxication. That one look was enough to speak volumes to those who were acquainted with this particular form of body language.

“So we got a deadbeat on our hands, eh, NICK!” the barkeeper shouted. Trauma stood up as Nick approached being equal to him in height. A few moments passed but Nick strangely felt his urge to  pummel Trauma melt away as if by magic. There was something about this stranger, he thought, that gained a respect for him from Nick. Trauma felt the same way just more groggily. Nick realized he could see it in Trauma’s eyes. It was a simple statement: I am an asshole. Both Trauma and Nick slowly backed off from each other. Nick said in a low voice,”…not here, this bar is unworthy, but eventually…” Trauma staggered severely out the door barely aware of his surroundings ,”what did that punk say?” he thought, “something like, `not me, the toilet’s not working…’ oh well”.

Outside his eyes passed from the sight of Baldric lying unconscious in a puddle of sewage, past Tito who was nearby looking up, past Goliath disappearing down the street, up to the sky where he took several moments to focus on. At the same time, Dragon, Penelope and Vindicator emerged from the

tavern and the assembled Trio stood almost dumbfounded at what they saw.

Dragon: sweet Koresh! It’s worse than I thought!

Trauma: (with hand in pocket) I thought I didn’t bring my magic acorns, no wait, (sheepishly) I didn’t.

Baldric: Unhhh… uh, guys, I think my spine is broken… guys?

Penelope: (excitedly) buk buk bka!?

Vindicator: I was going to say what it is, but after the chicken, forget it!

Tito: you guys see it too, eh? Good, I thought I drank the knockout drops I poured in that wench’s drink inside the bar. Phew! What a relief!

[writer -Tito (okay, Pimpernel, so what IS it?) ]

As the hours whittled away, the Trio found themselves getting bored. In the mean time, Trauma’s liver had absorbed much of the alcohol and he was starting to focus without much strain.

Tito: ” Well, I’ve had as much excitement as I can handle… so I’m going back inside.”

Peering at them from the cracks in the outhouse wall, and unbeknownst to them was Goliath. He had secured his pigeon-coathanger wand into his rope belt and was giggling quietly to himself. He was sweating with nervousnous.

Goliath: “So you think your so tough eh? You don’t look like much. I bet I could-” Goliath quickly moved his eye away from the space in the wood. “They are looking this way.!”

Suffice it to say, Goliath was mad. He had become a raving lunatic. But that is another story. And one day it shall be told.

NOTE: Goliath’s story WILL be posted one day in the short story base. For background information: Goliath was last seen in Oz during the attack of the winged monkeys. He disappeared following a black robed man pushing a shoady stone alter on mix-matched wheels.

The Trio re-enterd the bar. Not surprisingly the scene was slightly altered. It was packed with people. Strange as it appeared, it did not deter them from mingling.

Trauma was short on money and he was very thirsty, but he had no money. Then it came to him! He walked up to two simpletons sitting at a table.

Trauma: “Excuse me gentlemen. But I would like to make you a proposition.”

Clem: “Beat it.”

Bubba: “Yeah… Didn’t you see the sign?”

The third man was passed out on the table top. But he was buying the drinks. Trauma was about to leave, seeing as they weren’t interested. As he turned his back, they opened their mouths.

Clem: “Hey! I didn’t say you could leave.”

Trauma stopped.

Bubba :Hey Freako! Didn’y you hear my brother? Har har.”

Tito was on the other side of the bar in a dark booth. After half an hour and an entire vial of knock out drops, Tito’s night of wenching was a success. Five buxom babes were propped up across the table  from him and he was trying to decide which one he would defile first using the eenie-meenie-mynie-moe method. Suddenly there was a distinct sound. Not just anyone could hear it. Only a special kind of person could make out this sound. Tito’s ears perked up and he took a sniff. Yup. There was also a scent that accompanied the sound. There was gonna be a scrap. At the same moment, Nick the scar-faced skinhead came out of the back room, sniffing the air.

Vindicator was not in the bar. He was in a room upstairs. He was naked, groggy and strapped down with hemp rope. His own underwear was balled up into his mouth. As he came too, he remembered what happened. A mighty ugly looking barmaid approached him, making lude advances, which Vindicator brushed away. He watched her go over to Tito and strike up a conversation. They exchanged something and she returned in moments. Smiling she gave him his flaggon of ale. Vindicator looked about the darkened room. On the nightstand he saw a vial of Tito’s knockout drops! The door opened and the ugly wench stood siloheutted in the light.

Bar maid: “I know what you are thinking. But you cannot answer me because of your gag. My name is………. Lola!”

He had not known panic until this moment. And he was sure he would be introduced to many more horrors in the next few hours.

Through the window, Goliath watched in a feverish sweat.

Goliath: “I see you sitting there. Thinking you’re so bad. You’re not so- uh, ooo ooo… they’re looking this way.”

Penelope tilted her head and stared at a spot on Dragon’s lapel. Dragon was sitting across from a tall skinny man with a lazy eye. This was quite a new experience for Dragon, for he had never before seen the lazy eye phenomenon.  The man would stare at Dragon with one eye while the other one twirled in its socket. For hours they sat staring at each other. Penelope took a quick peck at the spot. Dragon’s eyes widened at what happened next. The tall skinny man’s good eye slowly slipped out of its socket and fell onto the table, and rolled towards Dragon. Penelope watched the glass eye roll. There was no

change in the man. His lazy eye must also be blind.

Dragon eagerly made faces at the disabled gent, growing bolder and bolder. He also snatched the glass eye and pocketed it. Penelope was slightly miffed at that, but soon forgot what it was she was miffed at and began staring at nothing in particular.

[writer – TRAUMA – Groovy. ]

Trauma looked at the inbread louts and toght of millions of witty curses and rips he could heap on them. He prepared to go to work on them but something in their vacant stares made trauma think his repartee would fall on deaf ears.  Trauma reconsidered and settled for a shot to the face instead.  It was brief, provoking and very satisfying.

The other brother(Clem)  took offense to this and attempted to clock Trauma on the back of the head when he was smashed in the temple by a well thrown glass eye, courtesy of Dragon.

The Brothers apparently had a larger family than was first assumed, however.  Six more inbread louts stood crying for Trauma’s blood.  It was a mess indeed.  Dragon, who was attempting to block the blows raining down on his skull with his Yoga powers was being beaten the worst.  Trauma took out

the two after him with a quick sucsession of shots from his spiderman Pez dispenser.  After that he decided to take a moment and drink one of the brother’s disgarded ales.

Tito was having an easy time with his brother who was too stupid to realize he was strong enough to tear the chair out of Tito’s hands.  He instead continued to allow Tito to use the chair as a shield against the worst of his blows.  It was Trauma’s Ale glass on the back of his neck that ended the fight.

Trauma:  Do you think we should Help Dragon?

Penelope:  Buk Buk!

Tito:  Not if I start having to speak after the chicken!


Tito:  You know Dragon is too busy getting mauled to stop me from frying your little but!


Dragon meanwhile had successfully used the Yoga mind trick to make the brothers think he was too pathetic to beat on.  All he had to do is lie immoble and bleeding on the floor.  The brothers took off out of the bar in a hurry.

Trauma: Should we follow?

Tito: Nah! The weird thing that everybody refuses to describe is out there.  It’ll make short work of them.

There was a short indescribable noise outside as the brothers were eliminated from concern.

[writer – That Damned Overdue Pimpernel ]

With a satisfying feeling, they were just about to return to there earlier activities, (all except Dragon, who was unaware that he was actually using his yoga powers to simulate his unconcious condition) Penelope snuggled close to his face, starring in wide eyed fear of any indication that large one who

smelled of crisco was coming for him. That was all soon forgotten as the glass eye rolled past Penelope. She quickly darted after it.

Suddenly a voice said behind them, “You’re not getting out of this that easily.” Trauma and Tito turned, wearing ever smug looks on their faces. That is, until they actually turned around. Standing in the open back doorway were about a dozen men clad in black pants, stripped black and white shirts with black suspenders and portions of make up still caked in the pores of their faces.

Trauma: “Fuck.”

Tito: “Mimes.”

At that moment Vindicator appeared at the top of the stairs in shredded clothing and torn duck tape hanging from his cheek.

Vindicator: “Animal! She’s and animal!!”

And just as suddenly he was yanked backwards, wide eyed and obviously terrified. However, Tito and Trauma had other things on their mind. Trauma smiled at the mimes as he searched for his doornob loaded sock, and wondered if he remembered to turn his jockeys inside out? Tito reached for his

brassknuckles and frowned at the prospect that, by the time the fight was over the knockout drops would have worn off.

As if nothing else could go wrong, it did. A temporal anomily appeared behind them, discarding a plethora of bar room combatants.

Dragon remained under dedicated yoga concentration.

Penelope had finally cornered the glass eye.

The owner of the glass eye had finally discovered that it was missing and made a replacement by rolling up a wad of tinfoil and jamming it into the socket.

Vindicator… well he was in trouble.

[writer – TRAUMA – Sorry… couldn’t resist. ]

Tito and Trauma stood motionless facing the horde of hated mimes in that eerie sort of calm before the coming storm. They swayed menacingly. A few of  the mimes tried to demoralize the two with quick renditions of “man carrying  invisible piano”. It didn’t work but it gave Tito a few moments to think. He  turned to Trauma and said,” it looks bad, we’ll fight back-to-back – you can

take this half (gesturing towards mimes).”

“Ok,” came Trauma’s reply and Tito gleefully turned to face what he  presumed to be the vacant rear of the inn. Unfortunately for him, the temporal  anomaly mentioned in the previous post had strewn several rather large and  green Vogons around the rear of the inn. They saw him and lined up to give

Tito one of their world-renowned “beat ‘im till he screams like a woman” thrashings.

Several more moments passed and now some mimes were doing their “man walking into the wind” routines and still no fight. Trauma felt his arms getting stiff from standing rigidly in his belligerent stance and could wait no more. He had improved on his sock-and-twin-doorknobs design and now swung around a table cloth that had two brass spittoons in it as he waded into the crowd of mimes angrily.

Tito looked over his shoulder and witnessed this and turned back to face the Vogons who used this to trigger the start of their onslaught. Just then a semi-clad Vindicator appeared at the top of the stairs and screamed,” Oh god! she has “Erin Miklos was here” tattooed on her heinie.”

The Vogons were momentarily distracted and Tito took his chance. Baldric, was just staggering by after a wandering holy-man miraculously cured his spinal damage didn’t have time to look up when Tito labeled him with a brass-shod haymaker which floored the hapless Baldric almost instantaneously.

After shattering a glass bottle he began to jump up and down on Baldric’s chest, driving glass shards deeper into his flesh while loudly saying,”take that, Tito, you well-dressed, smart-mouthed thorn in the side of all peace-loving Vogons everywhere.”

The Vogons didn’t buy it, though and the pack of them set upon Tito as well as the stricken Baldric who they were going to pummel as well, just for the hell of it.

[writer  -Tito  …it just keeps getting better… ]

The Vorgons were pummeling Tito and Baldric, eventually getting the grand idea that they could use Baldric as a blunt innstrument to do even more damage to the marshal.  It was again becoming uncomfortably warm as Tito’s hate burned like a ciggarette soaked in lighter fluid.

Trauma began to be buffeted by the invisible wind.  It was little comfort that the mimes seemed equially affected.  One really big mime approaced with an invisible piano and prepared to swing it.  Trauma was suddenly seized with an extreamely ludicous plan.  Trauma’s hand shot out and grabbed a metalic object that the mime had conceiled in his back.  The mime gave a look of horror as his movements became increasingly sluggish and he dropped the piano with a silent crash.  His limbs started to stiffen until he eventually froze once “Robot winding down” was compleate.  Trauma looked up with great triumph and disbelief only to look away quickly when he noticed the anomoly in the


Vindicator, who was watching from the stairs.  Happened to notice that five figures, three of which were severely beaten, were emergeing from the anomoly.  One was a strage young man dressed in red jeans and tie and a long regal looking cape.  He had a pony tail and glasses.  The rest of them were

what made Vindicator gasp.  They were beat up versions of Tito, Vindicator and Trauma.

Second Trauma: So Pimpernel, did we take a wrong turn?

Second Tito:  Yeah, this place looks like a dump!

First Pimpernel(ever):  Of course not… This is just a really interesting route, thats all.

Vindicator(the real one?): Alternate realities too!  We better get the book of time before nothing is sacred!

Second Vindicator:  I knew he was going to say that!

Just then a small thirty day old donut came rolling through the anomoly.  Penelope darted after it, seeking a new chalange after humbling the glass eye.  Penelope soon discovered that Fifty humgry french republicans were also intent on the donut.  The rush came hurtling through the warp and the fun

really started.

[writer –  the Pimpernel–  you thought it was just an audition, didn’t ya?  (I’ll be copying your signature lines next!) ]

Dragon awoke from his near coma-induced state.  He had a REVELATION!!  Through his deep, trance he discovered the perfect solution to get out of this setting, find Merlin, enlist his help to track down Mr. Naughty, retrieve the book, and save the Universe(again).  As he sat up and opened his eyes, he noticed a herd of badly dressed rebuplicans chasing after a 30-day old donut and promptly forgot all about his dream-insight.

Noticing the rest of the chaos, he decided it was time for some action.  His Yoga only took him so far, since it currently had no solution he fell back on his trusty correspondance Super-Hero training.  Slinking off to a nearby corner, he looked up.  Yup, just where he left it before the fight.

Up in the corner was a package covered in spider webbing.  Sneaking a quick look to make sure noone saw him, he noticed Trauma swing at a Mime but slipped on the same ‘banana peel’ that the mime did, and in doing so clocked one of the Vogons about to pummel Tito.  The Vogon fell backwards into a group of Mimes who dissapeared in a puff of smoke.

Trauma: Huh?

Tito: Huh?

Dragon snatched the parcel and quickly opened it up.  taking out a pair of red long-johns, he donned his trusty suit.  Of course, the only way into it was through the ever-so-handy butt flap.

Baldric continued to bleed to death.

Penelope abondend her chase upon seeing incompentent government officials after the donut and wandered to peck at Baldric.

Vindicator crawled onto the top of the stairs with a grave warning for one-and-all to heed by”  Be afraid….be very afraid…..” before being dragged back slowly.  In the background you could hear “I’m not finished with you lover-boy….”

Dragon:  Damn buttons….they’re so hard to get undone!

Trauma: “This is ridiculous!  Let’s get out of here!”

Tito:  “Right!  Ummm…how do we do it” while ducking from a blow by the nearest Vogon.

Trauma(while bashing another Mime): “Like always!” *Clang*

Tito: “Oh, you mean jump into that!”  pointing at the anomoly

Trauma: Are you crazy?  We’re gonna do it like any other craven-cowards/heros!  Out the back door!

With a mad dash, they made their way through the kitchen.  Tito saw the that lucious wench on his way though and gave her butt a good squeeze.  The mad-mob of patrons followed as best they could.  Dragon had finally opened the butt-flap!  “Ah HA!  Got it!”

[writer –     Dragon –    Anyone else car to carry on?&lt;EG&gt; ]

The fighting was carried out into the street. The Nameless Phenomenon was still lurking dangerously about, yet no one knew why it was so dangerous. All that is… except Goliath. However, he was quite preoccupied with trying to unhook the pigeon from his belt.

A brass-shod backhand sent a Vogon staggering backwards, while a hefty blow from a swinging blanket loaded with two spitoons incapacitated a mime. It was only a matter of time really. Both the mimes and the Vogons teamed up and charged the two heroes as they fought back to back.

Tito: You realize… I hold Vinidcator totally responsible.

Trauma: I agree.

Just emerging from the tavern/inn, the duplicates of Trauma, Tito, Dragon and Vindicator along with the Scarlet Pimpernel watched the fight.

Second Trauma: Oooo! A fight!

Second Tito: Give ’em the chair! The Chair!

At that moment… a red pajama clad Dragon appeared on the rooftop.

Dragon: Dum dum-dum! Oops…

A loose shingle set him flailing off the roof and ontop of the Vogon-Mime forces. With this much needed help… Trauma and Tito quickly pummeled them into unconsciousness.

From a second story window, with an explosion of glass, Vindicator fell screaming.

Up the street Goliath finally freed his wand.

Goliath: I’ll show them! I really am a wizard! I’ll burn their fucking house down!

He quickly galloped up to the tavern/inn and began chanting and waving his wand.

Moments later Baldric managed to drag his body out the door and into the street as well.

Now that everyone was gathered outside, and the nameless anomoly was outside, they stared dumbfounded as to what they would do next.

[writer – TRAUMA – Groove U. ]

NOTE: The following is a list of all the characters currently involved in the story.

Trauma, Marshal Tito, Dragon, Vindicator, the Chicken, Goliath, Scarlet Pimpernel, Baldrick, (Trauma/Tito/Dragon/Vindicator duplicates)

… I think its time for some hack and slash.

[writer – ????]

The Characters stood ready to confront the Nameless phenomenon when The pimpernel had a sudden revalation.

Pimpernel: I understand! I figured it out!

Vindicator: So how do they get the soft flowing Caramilk…

Pimpernel: No, don’t you see! you are the Beligerent ones, but you have to go through the portal to 18th century France, because there you meet me and figure out how to get back here!

Second Vindicator: That is pretty much how you will remember it when you become me.  You are us only before we got to where we are now.

Trauma: If you think I’m going through that portal just to rationalize the existance of someone who looks just like me only with better hair. Forget it!

Second Trauma: Actually that’s just because your hair is all matted with blood. We wash that off long before…

Second Vindicator:  Look Trauma! I mean the first Trauma.  What you are suggesting is that you go against the timeline that has been presented to us and if that happen there would be a paradox of unimaginable preportions.

Trauma: (Looking unconvinced) Tell me if you are Vindicator from the future, then we already had this conversation, right?

Second Vindicator: right.

Trauma: Did that argument convince me last time?

Second Vindicator: No

Trauma: Then why did you try it if you knew I would be unconvinced?

Second Vindicator: Because last time this circular nonsence distracted you long enough for Tito to clock you!

Tito obligingly knocks Trauma cold. The second Trauma then clocks Tito.

Tito: Hey!

Second Trauma: You hit me, I hit you back.

Tito: I didn’t hit you, I hit him (indicates the unconscious Trauma)

Second Trauma: He is me!

Tito: But… Oh yeah.

Just then the second Tito tackles the Second Trauma and Tito decides to join in and togeter the Tito’s start to pummle the now outnumbered Trauma.

Second Vindicator:  I guess I couldn’t expect it to go better the second time through.

[writer – That Damned Cyclical Pimpernel ]

As the two Titos were laying a thrashing on the second Trauma, the two Vindicators and the two Dragons eyed each other suspiciously.

1st Vindicator: (to 2nd Vin &amp; 2nd Dragon) Um, should we be, like, beating you up or something?

2nd Vindicator: (thinks a moment before answering) No, but I’ve been meaning to tell you something. You’re always making stupid comments like that and it really bugs the hell out of me. Smarten up,                for crying out loud!

Vindicator was stunned at being insulted by his own double and was struck momentarily speechless.

2nd Vindicator: I just said that to get even for being insulted by my double back when I was in your place.

By this time, Titos #1 and #2 had beaten Trauma #2 to unconsciousness and were now congratulating each other on a well-delivered beating.

1st Tito: It’s lucky I stepped in when I did or else you’d have got thrashed and made me look bad.

2nd Tito: Are you kidding? If I didn’t take him from behind like I did, he’d have kicked your sorry ass 5 ways to France without even using the &lt;UNEXPLAINED PHENOMENA&gt;.

1st Tito: We’ll see who’s tougher, punk. First I’m gonna grab Trauma’s double’s spittoon-flail. Then I’m gonna kick your ass quickly followed by me returning to my wenching. I’m NOT going through anymore &lt;UNEXPLAINED PHENOMENA&gt; – I’m way too “hep” for that.

When he finished speaking he turned and bent down to pick up 2nd Trauma’s discarded spittoon flail. As he picked it up he realized it was different. Unfolding it he saw that it was actually a bloodstained French Republican Tricolour flag holding a pair of 8 pounder cannonette balls. While he was busily examining this find, Tito #2 had crept up behind him and crowned him with a brass shod fist.

As Tito #1 lay on the ground fading from consciousness, Tito #2 stood grinning over him.

2nd Tito: Never turn your back on yourself, Tito, that’s a lesson you taught me (rubs his own head)

The three remaining doubles plus the Scarlet Pimpernel (the one and only?) turned to the remaining original Trio, Vindicator and Dragon.

2nd Dragon: Now, my incredible Yoga powers of deduction tell me you have 2 choices:

1. go through the &lt;UNEXPLAINED PHENOMENA&gt; carrying your friends


2. be thrown through the &lt;UNEXPLAINED PHENOMENA&gt; along with your friends in an unconscious state.

2nd Penelope: (menacingly) B’ka!

[writer – That damned ultimatum delivering Pimpernel: Well, which shall it be? ]

Vindicator and Dragon looked at each other and considered the question. The choices were either knuckle under to superior numbers and slink through the &lt;UNEXPLAINED PHENOMENA&gt; like a pair of spineless cowards…or…to give these so-called double smartasses the thrashing of their lives for laying cheap shots on their friends in an heroic and violent fashion. A smile spread across their faces. Their choice was simple…

Moments later, Vindicator and Dragon had crossed the &lt;UNEXPLAINED PHENOMENA&gt; carrying their unconscious friends into what was presumably the countryside in 18th century France.

Vindicator: I was going to kick their heads in but I didn’t want you to get hurt with that wounded arm of yours and all.

Dragon: Yeah, I promised my correspondence-Yoga-Sensei I wouldn’t resort to violence unless it was absolutely necessary, sorta-like Chuck Norris in Lone Wolf McQuade. Y’know…

Momentarily Tito and Trauma came to and the Trio surveyed their surroundings, noticing the absence of the &lt;UNEXPLAINED PHENOMENA&gt; much to the relief of Trauma who hadn’t had a chance to refill his bottle of Jack Daniels yet.

[writer  – Tito  -ok, everyone back to work… ]

The four heros watched their earlyer selves step through the &lt;UNEXPLAINED PHENOMINA&gt; and into 18th century France. Tito picked up a rock to throw through the portal so he could make Trauma all queasy from the time distortions. But was stopped by [writer – That Damned Interrupting Pimpernel.

Pimpernel: Don’t litter in alternate realities, it’s impolite.

Tito: Who are you anyway?  We’re minding our own business…

Pimpernel: Getting lynched by a mob of unwashed republicans…

Tito: When Mr. High-and-Polite Pimpernel starts tagging along after us!

Pimpernel: Actually I was holding you up so you wouldn’t fall over from that thrashing the Revolutionaries gave you.

Tito: look whos expository flashback is this?

Pimpernel: There is a perfectly plausable explaination…

Vindicator:  Which story are you in?

Pimpernel: Ok there is a contrived pseudo-scientific explanation rife with inconsistancies.

Trauma: Now your talking…

Pimpernel:  I’m from the same reality as you four.  I was sent here to find the beligerent ones so I can stop Dr. Naughty from destroying all of Space-Time.

Dragon: My Yoga powers say that you are lying!

Pimpernel: Well I’m not.

Dragon: Really?

Pimpernel: I’m afraid so.

Dragon: Damn!

Pimpernel: Sorry to disappoint you.

Dragon: Don’t worry about it…

Pimpernel: You had a fifty-fifty cahnce of being…

Dragon: Back off!

Vindicator:  So how do We find Dr. Naughty?

Sorry about taking the next post guys but I wanted to get back in the swing.  Now lets see where this goes.

[writer – That Damned Open ended Pimpernel ]

CCC&S Story 1.5 (1/3) The Story Began…

Note:  You will note, upon reading, that the story is not quite in a ‘novel’ format but more of a play really.  The idea is that with so many authors and many different idea running through our minds, it was just not possible to write it completely in a novel form.  Actually we were just too lazy and wanted to get our ideas out.  I have edited it somewhat to make it easier to read and, believe it or not, coherent.  Take all out-of-place instances as part of the story.  The author of each part appears within brackets at the end of his segment.

Disclaimer:  Please note that not a single author of this collaboration claims originality, intuition or personal hygiene on many of the ideas written within this story.  No money has been made and it was all in good fun.  None of us take any comments within this story seriously.
Written by: Trauma, Tito, Vindicator and Dragon
Edited by:  Dragon
Circa   1993
The Vindicator sat alone in his room.  On the TV, Captain Picard paced the bridge of the Enterprise.  The Vindicator paced the room.  This was all too easy.  They had escaped the evil Dr. Naughty.  They had taken back the book of time.  They had escaped the mimes.  They had escaped the bar fight. They had escaped.  Something was wrong.  What’s more,  something wasn’t right. This was bad.  The phone rang.
“Vind!” It was Trauma.
“I’ve been looking over the book of time.  It’s the wrong book.”
“Eh?  Whaddya mean, wrong book?”
“Just that!  Dr. Naughty musta switched books on us!”
“Shit.  What now?”
“We’ve gotta get the book back.  You in?”
“I’m in…”
[writer – The Vindicator – It begins…]
The Vindicator was on the lam. In his rear-view he saw the strobing blue and red cherries of a police cruiser. His license was suspended and this was the first time he got in his car. How did they know? Vindicator thought to himself. It’s like they were waiting for him, and in fact… they were.  “Those bastards.” Vindicator cursed, and then floored the pedal of his Hyundai Pony(Stallion). As the car’s RPMs screamed, Vindicator laughed and then once again looked into the rear-view. The cruisers were still with him driving at a most leisurely pace.
There!  On the corner!  It was his only chance!  Swerving the car across the on-coming lanes, Vindicator crashed over the curb and drove through the parking lot of Tim Horton’s and then back onto the street. Once again he looked into his rear-view. The cops had the place completely  surrounded, and they were gonna be damned if any felon would thwart them from acquiring at least one chocolate eclair.
Smiling at his own brilliance, Vindicator arrived at Trauma’s place. Hefting his gym bag he started up the driveway. The garage doors started opening and he stood back. The sound of an engine erupted from inside. And then the thundering rumble of revving Hemi rocked the very ground.  “Skiddaly wa wa.” was all Vindicator could say.
Wearing his 3/4 length leather jacket and his gold Elvis Presley glasses, Trauma pulled out of the garage in the 1967 Cadillac Eldorado convertible. Hot Pink! With whale skin hub caps and all leather cow interior, with big brown baby seal eyes for headlights!
“You kept it!” Vindicator shouted in glee.
“So… are we ready?” Trauma asked.
“One second…” reaching into his gym bag he pulled out his 14+ foot multi-colored scarf and wrapped it around his shoulders.
“Now… I’m ready.”   Jumping in they headed off in search of Tito and Dragon.
[Writer – TRAUMA – Ohhhh yeahhhhh!]
The engine of the Cahone-mobile roared like a wild beast as Trauma stepped on the gas.  Within just a couple of minutes they were at Tito’s place.
“Go ring the bell, Vind.”
“Hell no!  Last time I did that I got a Louisville to the back of the knees!  You do it!”
“Fine!  I’ll do it”, grumbled Trauma as he stepped out of the car.
Ding-Dong (The witch is dead)
“I told you sissy-mary girl scouts not to come back!  Oh, it’s you. Sorry about that.  What’s up?”
“The book…”
“What about it?”
“Dr. Naughty pulled the old switcheroo on us.”
“We have to go get it.”
“Just go along with the damn story!”
“Ok.  Just lemme get a few things.”
Tito disappeared into the recesses of the house and emerged a few moments later with a Louisville and some pepper spray.
20 minutes later they arrived at Dragon’s place (5 minutes before the cops that were chasing them caught up).  They went up to his apartment and banged on the door.
Dragon’s brother Dalamar answered the door wearing one-piece pijama’s with bunny feet.  “Hey guys!  What’s up?”
Trauma: “We need to see your brother.”
Dalamar: “What’s going on?”
The Vindicator: “Just go get him.  The fate of the world hangs in the balance!”
A moment later Dragon came to the door.
“What’s up?”
Trauma: “Dr. Naughty still has the book.”
Dragon: “Didn’t we take it from him?”
Trauma: “He switched books on us.”
Tito: “Apparently we have to get it back, for some reason or other…”
Dragon: “Gimme 2 minutes.”
2 minutes later, Dragon returned carrying a chicken under his arm.
Chicken: “Bok Bok B’ka!”
Dragon: “Hush, Penelope.”
They rushed to the Cahone-mobile and drove away in a mad flurry of elderly pedestrians.  A minute later the cops showed up and arrested Dalamar for no readily apparent reason.
[writer –  The Vindicator – Ya never really lose it, do ya?]
Tito stretched out in the familiar luxurious interior of the Cahone-mobile, his thoughts racing to the adventure they were about to enter into. He was oblivious to his surroundings as every fibre of his concentration applied itself to acquiring the true book and bypassing the almost certainly  suicidal peril they were going to risk. Sensing this higher plane of  consciousness that Tito had reached, Dragon rained several blows on Tito’s  back with the Louisville to demonstrate Tito’s invulnerability to physical  pain in this state.
Tito: (body shuddering under the first whack) Jesus Christ! What the hell are you doing! I think you broke my spine! Auugghh! I’m dying! I can’t feel my legs! You idiot!
(make that partial invulnerability)
Trauma drove the car decisively as if he knew what his destination was.  Vindicator sat in the passenger side with a vacant look of determination (if  that’s possible) and said nothing. Dragon tried to change the subject away  from his recent assault on Tito’s back,” uh, so where are we going?”
Tito: (still rubbing his back) Well I thought we were going to the women’s shelter but then Trauma should’ve made that last turn. As long he thinks he’s  going the right way, we’re okay, but NO SHORTCUTS!
Tito looked for the slot on the car stereo to insert the 8-track of Polka  Time Hits when he remembered having removed it in a previous story,” hey,  Trauma, the car’s okay, but get the stereo fixed.”
Trauma didn’t respond. He was at one with the Cahone-mobile. It was an  extension of his body. He reached down to the ashtray which he had modified to be the holder for his mickey of Jack Daniels. Pressing a button on the  dashboard, the well-oiled tray sprang out and dropped the bottle right in his  hand whereupon he took a couple of generous swigs. He needed it to fortify himself against the thought of what was to come. He scanned the streets for a  sign saying simply “no outlet”. He knew in his limited way that down the  street that sign stood in front of, the very laws of physics, time and space would cease to apply consistently in what was known as “the Gaithersburg Effect”.
The Cahone-mobile sped on to its appointment with destiny…
[writer – Marshal Tito ]
Blurred images could be seen out the sides of the Cahone-mobile as they sped by.  The view behind them was totally obscured by the immense cloud of exhaust which was emanating from the car.  Well… It could have been emanating from Tito, but it was most likely coming from the car.
Trauma: “That’s it.  Up ahead.”
The sign was about 200 yards away, but it was large enough that the words “No Outlet” could be seen.  Trauma eased off of the accelerator and turned sharply into the off ramp, causing a bus-load of nuns to go flying into a tanker truck which was carrying 25,000 gallons of liquid nitrogen.
Trauma drove the Cahone-mobile up the off ramp.  The group was immediately and savagely attacked by an orgy of Technicolor.  Bright blues whizzed by, followed by vibrant reds.  All the colours of the StainMaster carpet rainbow  could be seen.  Planets streaked by them at incredible speed.  They felt as if their heads would explode.  They’re knuckles turned white as they tightened their death-grips on whatever happened to be available.  Dragon had, unfortunately, grabbed himself and would regret it for much of his remaining years.
The car drove through the eye of a needle.  Then it drove through the nucleus of an atom.  Then it began to nosedive towards the sun.  Just before the car burned up, they stopped.
[writer – The Vindicator: “Where are we?”]
Trauma: “I was kinda hoping you’d know…”
Tito: “Holy Chivalry!  This looks like Camelot!”
[writer – The Vindicator]
Sure enough, the Trio looked out of the windows and saw an almost  fairytale like landscape stretching before them with a large castle with  several white towers resting on a hill across from the valley which the  Cahone-mobile was overlooking.
“Now what?” asked Tito.
“Well let’s check it out,” suggested Vindicator,” there is probably some hidden purpose for us arriving here that will aid us in our quest.”
“Camelot, you say?” said Dragon,” then that means we might be able to get some help from Merlin the Magician. I’ll bet that’s why we arrived here.”
“Camelot, you say?” said Trauma,” then that means I might be able to score with that Guinevere chick. I hear she sleeps around. I’ll bet that’s why we arrived here.”
Tito scanned the valley below for any signs of activity and pointed, “Hey, there’s a village down there. I say we go down and see if medieval wenching is all it’s cracked up to be.”
The rest of the Trio agreed and they made their way down to the village  that was only about a kilometer or two away after hiding the Cahone-mobile  under some local brush and vines.
Tito, dressed in his usual cool clothing including a shiny shirt, black  dress pants, several gold chains and a pair of slick Italian shoes made his  way carefully down the sloped embankment of the valley edge, using his beloved Louisville as a walking stick.
Trauma, dressed in his 3/4 length leather coat and heavy army boots  polished to a perfect shine employed a newly fashioned weapon that he had  built before this trip. He had glued several razor blades strategically on the edges of a normal toaster and was now swinging it back and forth by the power cord, clearing away the ground vegetation in much the same way as a machete.  Unfortunately, he was not aware that this rough treatment was breaking most of the blades off the toaster which would reduce its effectiveness as a weapon in the near future.
Dragon was having a hard time keeping his feet on the muddy ground downhill but Penelope was managing with no apparent difficulty.
Vindicator, with his several meters of scarf, was made to guard the rear so that not only would the rest of the party avoid the hazard of tripping over his scarf but it was hoped that anyone sneaking up on them from behind would be similarly thwarted by this incidental rear defense.
At long last, the party rounded the last copse of trees and the village came into view in the distance about a hundred meters away.
[writer – Marshall Tito]
Within minutes they had reached a small bridge that crossed the river which separated the village from the woods.  Tito, hearing a muffled groan, turned to look back and saw several would-be bandits lying face-down in the dirt, presumably as a result of The Vindicator’s ridiculously long scarf.
They began to cross the bridge when suddenly a short, emaciated little man jumped out and cried: “Before ye may cross this bridge ye see, thou must answer my questions three!”
Trauma said “Oh hell”, picked up the old man, and chucked him into the river.  They crossed the bridge and entered the city.
They strolled down the main street.  Actually, it was the only street, but the citizens were kind of sensitive about that.  Up ahead, on the right, they saw a sign which read “Ye Olde Women’s Shelter.”
Tito: “Oooh, let’s check that out!”
Dragon: “Later.  We have business to attend to.”
The Vindicator: “Hey!  Look at that.”
Across the road was another sign: “Ye Olde Chicken’s Shelter.”
Dragon: “Oooh, let’s check that out!”
Dragon stumbled forward as Trauma cuffed him in the back of the head.
They marched on…
[writer – The Vindicator]
They walked further down the street and soon saw a donkey pulling a cart that was heavily laden with bodies. Leading the cart was a man who rhythmically beat a rusty can with a stick while repeating,”…bring out your dead <clang> bring out your dead.”
As the Trio approached a man who was nearby carrying a load of kindling wood on his back suddenly collapsed to the ground. The cart stopped nearby him and the man leaned over to pick the man up.
Tito: Well, that’s the most fake looking compensation accident I’ve ever seen. Even Goliath is more convincing.
Man with cart: (examining body) …but, but he’s dead.
Trauma: What a wimp. (Shouting at body) Be a man! Walk it off!
Man with cart: it’s the plague. Already a third of the kingdom has succumbed to it.
Tito: did you say “plague”?
Man with cart: yes I did.
Tito: Luxury! When I was little, we only had the privilege of being afflicted with plague on holidays – and then only if we were good. To think how soft you people must be when you have such an abundance of that blissful euphoria of semi-consciousness and wracking pain to while away the hours and you don’t even appreciate it.
Trauma: Plague on holidays, eh? I used to dream of catching the plague on the holidays like you rich kids but no, we had to amuse ourselves by repeatedly hitting ourselves in the head with hammers and deriving pleasure out of our massive hemorrhages that resulted. None of that fancy plague stuff for us – we weren’t spoiled like you were.
Man with cart: Good Lord, you two must be very powerful men!
Dragon: (not to be outdone) Yeah, well that’s nothing, once in winter, I got my lips stuck on my neighbours railing, and my neighbour, who was possessed by an evil fire-demon ripped me loose by snapping my head back while chuckling diabolically.
Vindicator: well as much as I’d like to stand here and reminisce about the good old days, we DO have a mission to accomplish.
And with that they turned to continue up the street.
[writer -Tito ]
The Trio marched down the muddy main street as they followed the sounds of a crowd shouting. The bald man with robes stained with human waste, hurried his body-ladden, mule drawn cart behind the Trio.
Man with cart: Me Lords! I am a humble and dedicated servant. I would ask of thee a favour.
Vindicator: Sorry… I already gave.
Man with cart: Nay… you misunderstand. I would like to offer you my services as servant. I do not ask for wages. Only that I may do your every bidding.
Tito: Well… okay. But make sure you walk well behind us. You stench and outward appearance repulses me.
Smiling idiotically, the man danced about and talked with his donkey. Trauma and Tito led the way. Their path down that particular stretch of road was blocked by a pair of elderly folk. The old man was straining to push the makeshift wheelchair that his brittle old wife was sitting in through the muck. Now, Trauma and Tito could have easily steered themselves around the obstacle, but of course they choose not to.
Looking up with hope, the old man smiled weakly at the two. But his hope was quickly shattered.
Trauma: Hey old man. Why is your old hag sprawled out in the mud like that?
Looking about to see what they were talking about, he seen nothing of the sort. Utterly baffled by this untrue statement, the old man walked right into it.
Old Man: W-What? She is sitting in her chair.
Tito: (smiling and nodding to Trauma) Oh yeah?
With that Trauma shoved the old man backwards onto his back and Tito kicked over the wheelchair. The old hag shrieked as he was dumped into the mud. Chortling evilly, they continued on their way. Vindicator shook his head. Dragon squeezed Penelope a little tighter as a chill racked his body, and whispered into Penelope’s ear.
Dragon: (whispering) Hold me Penelope.
The man with the cart stared in utter shock.
Man with cart: Powerful men indeed! They even predicted the poor women’s decent into filth! Truly men of magic!
Trauma: There’s a sucker born ever minute, eh?
Tito: Yep. That was far to easy. These peasants are far stupider than I gave them credit for.
Trauma: Sure is gonna be fun.
And off they went…
[writer – TRAUMA – Asshole. ]
They continued down the path; their new toady bringing up the rear.  Luckily, the wind was coming from the north, which was the direction in which they were heading, so they were spared the stench of the carrion wagon.
The Vindicator: “What’s your name, peasant?”
Nameless peasant: “Baldric, M’lord.”
The Vindicator: “Figures.”
Baldric: “Sir?”
The Vindicator: “Never-mind…”
Dragon: “So… Does anyone know where we’re going?”
Trauma: “To that castle over there.”
Tito: “Cool.  Maybe we can find us some serving wenches!”
Trauma: “Groovy!”
They wound their way down the twisting path to the castle.  Just as the sun reached its three O’clock position they reached the courtyard.  Several men were tugging on a sword which seemed to be embedded in a rather large anvil.
[writer – The Vindicator – Gee.  I wonder where this is going… ]
The first burly man pulled as hard as he could on the sword. But it did not budge. Try after try. Man after man. Each time the same result. The sword will not be moved.
Vindicator: “Hey Trauma, why don’t you give it a try.”
Nodding approvingly, Trauma decided that he would give it a try.  Stepping aside they allowed the time-traveling hooligan to have a go at it. He flexed his mighty arms and made his pectorals dance under his leather coat. He gripped the hilt of the shimmering sword (as he had done countless times under the warm snuggly confines of his own blankets.)
He heaved.
He pulled.
He shook.
He kicked.
And finally… he bent the blade.
The crowd gasped in terror!
Mob: “He bent Excalibur!” “The bleedin’ fool ruined the bleedin’ sword!”
As the angry crowd drew in closer towards Trauma, he looked back at them and shrugged innocently, as if he had no idea what was going on.
Trauma: “What?”
Mob: “You destroyed us all! You broke Excalibur!”
Trauma: “Oh yeah? Prove it.” He crossed his arms over his chest in defiance.
In a single motion they all pointed at the wobbling sword protruding horizontally from the anvil.
Trauma: “That’s nothing.” he said reassuringly, and the mob murmured uneasily amongst themselves. “All I gotta do is grab the sword like this… and bend it back the opposite way… SNAP!!…. ahhh… hehehe.”
Mob: “Argh! Kill ‘im! Kill ‘im!”
Trauma started running for his life. Up the hill, several hundred yards ahead of him was Baldric’s cart jogging wildly over the rocky road. It was slinging corpses left and right. Preceding the mule drawn cart was Tito, Vindicator and Dragon, who upon early notice of the rising hatred of the mob, decided to make good their escape and put some distance between them and the peasants.
Still clutching half the sword, Trauma made haste behind his “pals”.  Looking down at the sword he frowned.
Trauma: “Damn. I didn’t want this. I wanted that anvil. It sure would have made a great walnut cracker.”
Tito: ” `Hey Trauma, why don;t you go and give it a try.’ Way to go shit-for-brains.”
Vindicator: “How was I supposed to know he would break the fucking thing?”
Tito: “…”
Vindicator: “Right. Where was my head?”
Dragon: “Hey guys… Penelope has to use the little hen’s room.”
They fled into the woods as the farm-implement wielding peasants followed close on Trauma’s heels.
Trauma: “Hey! Wait up!”
[writer – TRAUMA – And off we go… ]
The various bodies which seemed to be in endless supply in Bladric’s wagon had successfully knocked about half of the chasing peasants to the ground.  The remainder, being gruff and burly and much better acquainted with the terrain, were quickly gaining on our heroes.
Eventually Trauma caught up to his cohorts, who immediately made several attempts to smack him in the back of the head (not an easy thing to do while running at full tilt).
The Vindicator: “You had to go and break the damn thing, didn’t you!”
Trauma: “Can I help it if I have the strength of 10 men?”
The Vindicator: “Oh, shut up!”
Tito: “Look!  Up ahead!  A river! (puff, puff)”
Dragon: “Err… Chickens can’t swim.”
The Vindicator: “Everyone jump into the wagon and pray it floats!”
It did.
They all grabbed tightly to the edges of the wagon and fought to keep from being thrown into the turbulent waters.
The Vindicator: “Interesting smell in here.”
Trauma: “I love the smell of carrion in the morning.”
[writer – The Vindicator – Passing the buck. ]
Screaming like savages as the Trio escaped down river, the peasants had half-hearted attempts at pursuing them, for they realize the futility. However, Baldric looked back and screamed.
They all turned around. Apparently some of the overzealous peasants, upset at witnessing their Excalibur ruined, and the villains escaping, they lashed out in heated anger at the nearest target. Baldric’s mule.  Bashing it repeatedly about the head, neck and back, the frenzy grew to such a pitch that the pack animal was bloodily bludgeoned to death.
Cheering in victory, they thrust their arms into the air. Several peasants kicked the animal in the ribs for good measure. They seemed to have forgotten about the fleeing time-bandits, as they gathered their wounded and returned to their mundane existence.
Trauma: “Wops.”
Tito nodded grimly. Baldric began to blubber. Vindicator picked at some crust on his cheek, and Dragon hugged Penelope in the aftermath of the brutal violence.
In the years that followed, the peasants would recite the tale of how a villainous band of sorcerous brigands fell from the sky, slaughtered the brave knights that fought for Excalibur, and then snapped the blade itself with but a mere glance from a mile away. And then as they fled to the water’s edge, cast forth undead legions from the ground to thwart the villagers. And finally how the sorcerous brigands used the last of their magic to transform themselves into a vicious demon-spawned beast so terrifying, that they still use its description to scare little children. Alas… the sword was never recovered.
The End…
(Not of the adventure, just the peasants tale.)
… The wagon floated down river for several hours.
[writer – TRAUMA – It’s all true I tell you! ]
After several hours of lazily drifting down the river, it suddenly occurred to the Trio that the Cahone-mobile was back several kilometers upstream hidden in the bushes and that their only plausible way of ever escaping the weird world of Camelot was to get back to it. For a solid 3 hours Baldric continued to bawl over the loss of his mule. By now he merely buried his face in some leftover carrion at the bottom of the cart and let out the occasional whimper. An idea came to Tito and he looked at Dragon and motioned to Baldric.
Dragon leaned over and tried to console the distraught Baldric,”don’t take it so hard, I’m sure your mule is now in heaven where no one but god will ever kick it in the ribs again.”
Baldric looked up, slightly consoled,”y-you really think so?”
Dragon: Sure, anyone could tell how much you loved that mule, I can see that you are a man who has a way with animals. Here you can pet Penelope here, she loves having her feathers smoothed.
Baldric pet Dragon’s chicken a few times and his face lit up. Dragon suddenly jealously snatched Penelope back and said,”Ok, that’s enough!”
Still, this act of semi-kindness had its effect and now Baldric was the willing rube of the Trio.
Baldric: Gee, you guys are cool, if there’s anything I can do for you just name it.
Tito was waiting for just this and he said,”…welllll, I was just wondering,” as he twisted the leftover mule’s straps and bridle in his hands,”what size of harness do you wear?”
Ten minutes later, the cart was back on land and was being pulled by Baldric back towards the general direction of the Cadillac. Unfortunately, it was a distance of over 30 kilometers and all uphill.
Trauma held the reins in one hand and deftly drank from his mickey of J.D. from the other,”Faster, dammit! Faster! I want to feel the wind in my hair.”
Vindicator: Aw, Trauma, when can I drive?
Trauma: shut up, can’t you see I’m the designated driver (waving his mickey). Just be glad we promoted you up from pony-boy.
Tito also helped in the drive. He had weaved himself a bullwhip from the boots of several of the corpses who had been in the cart and was liberally applying it to Baldrics back as a means of gentle persuasion to maintain his pace. As for the corpses that had remained, none were visible now but let’s just say that the Trio made a few bucks in the market place of the next town by selling a suspicious amount of what they called “jerky-surprise”.
[writer – …Tito Suave!!! ]
The trio stopped in the next village to water Baldric, and to find an inn.  Tito insisted on a seedy inn where he could make sure there was a little more than a mint in his bed, and the rest agreed enthusiastically.
When they entered the common room of the inn there was a feeling of home. The decor was “12th century outhouse” and the owner even seemed to have chosen an appropriate air-freshener.
There were several other people in the room. Three ruffians were at a table playing some kind of dice game. At the bar was the innkeeper and a single ugly-looking man with a revolting scar on his cheek that looked he could pick his scab and use it for sandpaper. The man appeared to be openly eyeing the voluptuous barmaid.
Trauma:  So how much for a room?
Tito:  A little more than we have, the jerky didn’t earn us much.
Trauma: If I have to sleep in that cart again, its gonna have a fresh layer of bodies on it in the morning.
Tito: Don’t sweat it, I can get us the cash.
Trauma:  Who you gonna mug?
Tito: No mugging, I have a cunning plan…
Tito approached the bar despite Trauma’s groan.  He sat next to the ugly little man at the bar.  His mind calm and calculating (or more so than usual, which isn’t saying that much)he proceeded with stage one: get a few glasses of confidence in himself. He hailed the bartender
Tito: Hey Barkeep!
Barkeep: Keep ye shirt on!
Tito: I only take my shirt off when I’m about to beat the piss out of mouthy bartenders.
Barkeep: Oh… Well what’ll it be lad?
Tito: Something gut-rotting.
The bartender hurried off to get Tito some sulphuric acid.
Ugly-guy: Hello there, lad! It don’t look as if youse from around here! You be dressed like a court jester, you be!
Tito: (fighting off the urge to reopen the unattractive scar on the Ugly-guy’s head) No, not a jester.  I am an Alchemist!  I come from foreign lands, where reality altering substances are plentiful.  I could not help noticing your attentions toward that lady…
Ugly-guy: Aye, she be a beauty, alright! Her name do be Penelope! (Dragon’s indignant gasp is cut off by Trauma. But Penelope’s “Buk B’ka” is not silenced)
Tito: I have in my possession a love potion, that if she drinks it you can have her for sure!
Ugly-guy: Ah, you be quite the young Devil…
Tito:(starts indignantly)who told you… oh I mean yes, yes. So are you interested?
Ugly-guy: All she needs do is drink it?
Tito: You can get her to do that just by offering to go away if she does…
Ugly-guy: You have a deal milad!
Tito approaches the group satisfied at his cunning and his wallet a bit thicker.
Trauma:  Where did you learn that scam?
Tito:  Can’t I have an original idea?
Trauma and Vindicator exchange doubtful looks.
Dragon: Where did you get the bottle?
Tito: Easy, I stole Trauma’s Jack Daniels…
It was Tito’s shifty and suspicious nature that warned him Trauma’s blow was coming.
To Be Continued
[writer – That Damned Inclusive Pimpernel ]