One morning, the magnificent Michael Ironside kicked open His Victorian shade windows, surveyed the dawn, and declared "O world, thou art myne," laughing heartily. The sun and clouds gave Him a coy wink in acceptance, while the earth and trees begged for the honor of pleasuring Him, which He promptly refused, as neglect breeds further desire. He equipped his sterling-titanium pocket watch, affixed His hand-spun silk bowtie, gave His beard several encouraging strokes, and began updating His journal of conquests from last night's idle activities. "Only two military juntas, three warlock cabals, and a Renaissance artifact-smuggling ring," He thought to Himself, "Slow night." He pulled out His endangered species-skin ledger and made a note to move His suspension bridge construction planning time to off-peak hours.
The illustrious Michael Ironside strode resplendently down His southern -loft-décor-themed hall, taking a moment to check the mirror and confirm that His smoothly chiseled features were still as fainting spell-inducing as they were when He last checked. He let forth a mighty chortle as the mirror cracked from not being industry certified to handle His rugged looks. Deflecting several twelve sided throwing scythes with His bicep, Michael Ironside opted to simply affix the ninjas that threw them with a reprimanding glance and let them consider their action rather than punish them for it, for in Michael Ironside there is both mercy and vengeance. The ninjas instantly repented and later opened a boarding school for troubled youths.
Penning an Oscar-worthy anthology of poetry with His right hand and cooking His breakfast steak with the acetylene torch in His left, the marvelous Michael Ironside psychically turned on the radio. The DJ, having received notice that Michael Ironside was listening, instantly changed the track to George David Weiss and Bob Thiele's "What a Wonderful World" (released Jan. 1, 1968 by ABC Records [U.S.], HMV Records [UK], performed by Louis Armstrong) to more adequately reflect the state of the world now that Michael Ironside was awake and active in it. Michael Ironside finished the last piece of chapter fourteen ("Ode On The Hole Left In The Warlock's Skull By My Fist"), ate the steak in negative one bites, and began sorting through his mail. There were the usual several hundred fan letters, scouting offers from various Major League teams, and oh yes, the death threats from everyone from Basque terrorists to Sudanese drug lords to Uzbekistani elder god cults. They simultaneously warmed His heart and depleted His acetylene supply.
The morning routine of the gallant Michael Ironside was interrupted by a sudden incoming distress call. Michael Ironside whirled to his 126 inch liquid diamond display T.V. to see the face of… Samuel L. Jackson! "Michael Ironside! The world needs your help more than ever before! Milhouse is plotting to overthrow the governments with an army of Cyberannosaurus Rexes!" "Which ones?" said Michael Ironside, crumbling His marble countertop with a rage-clenched fist. "ALL OF THEM," cried Samuel L. Jackson, "And it gets worse! He has abducted Emma Watson and intends to wed her! You've got to help us, Michael Ironside!" But Michel Ironside was already speeding away in His Harley Davidson-drawn carriage and placing some timely phone calls…
Meanwhile, Milhouse lay back on his couch in his bunker, Emma Watson chained at his side, laughing vilely at his plans for the future. "What kind of precious metal would you like OUR palace to be crafted from, my precious?" he said, glancing at Emma Watson. "Gold? Platinum? Or how about the carcasses of children? It would be oh so characteristically evil of me." Emma Watson was revolted. "I'll never marry you! Michael Ironside will rescue me first!" "Oh will He?" Milhouse shot back, his voice suddenly as hard as a Metapod after six rounds of combat. "I have five hundred Cyberannosaurus Rexes standing guard over this facility at all times. My lieutenant," he said, nodding at Cthulhu who was monitoring the security cameras behind him, "has personally devoured entire cities. What could Michel Ironside possibly do to-" But he was interrupted by the incoming aircraft alarm. "My Lord!" Cthulhu called, "There is an incoming aircraft!" "Only one man could be so brazen!" Milhouse exclaimed, rising maliciously. "Make ready my Zord, captain! Tonight, Michael Ironside, we settle our score!"
"Five hundred Cyberannosaurus Rexes?" the salacious Michael Ironside thought as He plummeted from the back of the stealth bomber He had borrowed from the government, "Are they sure they don't want a more even fight?" He wielded Gungnir, the spear that Odin borrowed sometimes, in one hand and an ALL AMERICAN, YEEEAHHHHH M-16 machine gun in the other. The robot lizards were waiting for him, flamethrowers and chainsaw-spitters at the ready. Michael Ironside landed in the middle of them with an impact so great that kids in a five-foot radius circle in China were thrown off their feet. Wave after futile wave crashed against the crater, and after a fifteen minute barrage of bullets, flames, and chainsaws, the weapons of the Cyberannosauruses fell silent. "NOW, AZLAN!" Michael Ironside cried, rising out of the crater astride Azlan the lion, "LET US SHOW THEM WHAT IT MEANS TO BE IRONSIDE!" "For great justice!" Azlan roared, charging into the crowd.
Fully one fifth of the Cyberannosauruses died in that instant, some from the terror of facing the wholesome Michael Ironside in direct combat, others so intimidated that they killed themselves out of courtesy to save Him the trouble. Azlan and Michael Ironside cleaved through the hordes of dino-mechs like a Jewish mother through self esteem, with claw, tooth, Gungnir, and ALL AMERICAN bullets (which is precisely the reason Michael Ironside does not own a microwave: Revenge is a dish best served cold). Cthulhu, who had been watching and was now staring down the charging duo, threw himself down and cried "Michael Ironside! I have seen the error of my ways, and now beseech you for your mercy. Allow me to repent, and forever more shall I stride the path of light!" Michael Ironside regarded him coolly for a moment, then responded "Sounds good. Jesus Cat," He said to Azlan, "accompany him back to my place. Milhouse and I have two hundred and forty seven bones to pick."
"For once we agree!" boomed a colossal mechanical voice. Milhouse's Zord burst from the ground, the tremors of his emergence triggering several earthquakes in California (which no one really noticed anyway). For an hour-long minute the chivalrous Michael Ironside and Milhouse regarded each other, then they charged heedlessly into battle, each totally bent on the other's destruction. Milhouse opened with a withering volley of liquid nitrogen bolts and shurikens, all of which were dodged or laughed off by Michael Ironside. "Michael Ironside!" cried Samuel L. Jackson over the radio, "Be careful!" "Quiet, Samuel L. Jackson" growled Michael Ironside, "Mommy and Daddy are talking!" Michael Ironside jumped up on the shoulder of Milhouse's Zord, emptying the last of His ALL AMERICAN gun into the body whilst eviscerating the main body of the Zord. "NO!" cried Milhouse in a panic "This can't happen! I'm a me-", but with one final stroke, Michael Ironside decapitated the Zord, sending the head and Milhouse crashing to the ground, and the body of the Zord on top of it.
The enchanting Michael Ironside brushed the dust off of His coat as he broke Emma Watson's bonds with His teeth. "Oh Michael Ironside! Thank you so much! I am forever indebted to you" "Don't mention it, red. I liked you in Harry Potter. Now let's hit up some Red Lobster." Michael Ironside and Emma Watson went to Red Lobster and enjoyed a lovely dinner together, during which all Emma Watson could think about was how awesome it was the Michael Ironside had complimented her acting. Afterwards they went ice skating and scored all tens. Just another day at the office for Michel Ironside.