Freakazoid & co. © Steven Spielberg, Warner Brothers & something, in any case I do not own them.

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It was a dark and stormy night. A shadow lurked in one very dim lane of the quiet city. Well, the city itself was quiet, if we do not count the bluster and roar of the frustrated and angry wind, added to the banging rattle of the downpour. And also, we can take a small study of all the other noises that we need to exclude from our definition of a quiet city. Those would be for example the fighting cats in the trashcans; namely that type of cats that caterwaul like rusty foghorns. Then there would be the snore of the neighborhood-door man, the irritating clatter of a metallic outdoor scaffold against the wall in the fitful wind, the fierce cry of the lost sewer alligators (that are usually albinos), the demure hum of an UFO flying above the houses, the bark of a rabid dog… we conclude that there are several different kinds of sound waves that we need to cut off from the definition of a 'quiet city'. But once we have built up our theorem, we can go on with the actual story.

Indeed, there was a shadowy man lurking at the beginning of the narrow passage, behind a corner... And a lonely, unsuspecting pedestrian came closer to this notorious turn. The fast-walking person tried to wrap his coat tighter around his body against the icy breeze. He could not see well forwards, since the biting raindrops were coming like missiles towards him. However they were following their natural direction towards the ground caused by gravitation.

Note: You can ask lectures about gravitation and its influence on the raindrop falling from your local university's physics professor. I am sure he will be happy to help you out to understand the wonderful natural phenomena our universe is so full of.

Step by step the incautious peregrinator was approaching the corner leading to the lane. He was completely concentrated on his half-running walk, thinking about a warm fireplace and a big cup of hot chocolate that were waiting for him at home.

"Ahh, I will eat a big, big muffin together with the hot chocolate. A warm muffin. Some almond grains on it. Added with some chocolate cookies, maple syrup, mm…" the foot-passenger smacked his lips, dreaming his sugary illusions.

And then it was there. The shadow. The dark shadow. The menacing shadow. The shadowy shadow. It jumped right in front of its prey from that spooky lane. Something silvery, metallic glimmered in its hand, threateningly raised up to face the innocent walker. Its eyes were drawn into an evil expression, staring from the shades of a black mask.

"Buahhahhahhaaah!" a horrible, sinister laughter echoed in the air (despite that the noises of the rain and wind should have muffled it completely under them).

"Aaargh!" the poor victim cried out in despondency.

"Yes! I will do it!"

"No! Please! Anything but that!" the horrified man with the coat flopped down on his knees on the wet pavement. His expression was full of despair.

"Yes! Muhahahaa!" the shadow cackled maliciously.

"No! Please, anything, I'll do anything!" the pitiful creature cringed.

"Yes! You will taste it!"

"NO!"

"Yes! You will taste my newest gastronomic invention… parsnip pudding with sauerkraut! Or else you will hear me sing my THEME SONG! I have even a SPOON for you!" The shadow shook the metallic object that glimmered in the eerie streetlight.

"No, please don't make me eat that!" the knelt man manically shed tears.

"As you wish… and so I will SING! Muhahahaa! Or hmm… wait, do I happen to laugh like that? I sound like my arch-enemy the Lobe!" the stranger took a moment to scratch his hair in wonder. "Oh well, but I need someone to do a test-run for my cooking. So let's decide I can laugh like a nasty supervillain this time. How did it go… yes, MUHAHAHAA! Now I will SING!" the bullying went on. It was a dark and stormy night.

"NO!"

"Superteen extraordinaire, ta-ta da, ta-ta-da, runs around in underwear…"

"Nooo-ooo! Please NO!" the crouching man held his ears.

"Rescues Washington D.C., Freakazoid, Freakazoid, unless something better's  on TV, Freakazoid, Freakazoid…His brain's overloading, it has a chocolate coating. Textbook case for Sigmund Freud, Freakazoid, Freakazoid… "

"AARGHH! Please stop! I… I'll eat your sauerkraut!"

"Really? Hey, way cool! Here! I have it a whole cauldron with me!" the shadowy stranger that is not actually a shadowy stranger any more (but our friendly geek Freakazoid who has been bitten by a cooking bug and wants someone's honest opinion about the brilliant taste of his cuisine) hopped his both feet together, and pulled a big, steamy pot from behind the brick wall. Forcing the oblation to take the atrocious spoon into his hand, he yelled enthusiastically, "I'll win the French Chef Competition with this! Yee-haa! I'll be the best! No one has ever tasted a better combination of parsnip pudding and sauerkraut! Hmm… should I have also added some escargots in it? It might have given a more piquant nuance into it…"

As Freakazoid there went on pondering the finesses of his recipe, he did not notice that the poor pedestrian had secretly slinked away. He had craftily taken advantage of the rare seconds that the eyes of that blue underwear man were cast into another direction. And so it was a disturbing experience for Dexter Douglas to find out that his spoon was now lonely lying on the pavement, its sad form making everything dismal in the stormy night.

"Aw, nutbunnies! Now I have to wait again the next by-passer", the indignant Freakazoid folded his arms over his chest. "Oh well, I have the whole night time to wait. MUHAHAAH! Hmm… if I practice that laughter, I'll be better in it than Evil Emperor Zurg! Way cool!"

And so we leave behind the lane of horrors. This also concludes our gastronomic interlude. And now, the narrator proudly presents… the title of our story!

The Dreadful, Horrible, Abominable, Appalling Lobe Strikes Back

"Oh, but you are flattering me now! Why, thank you very very much! I am so chuffed about all those beautiful words you included in the title!" Mister Lobe, ditto, crossed complacently his fingers, a smug smile on his face. "Will you also tell everyone about my newest evil scheme? Isn't that supposed to be the plot of this story?"

"Yes, yes, after I've kept my coffee break", the narrator answered, glancing at his watch. "See, they got this very tasty cappuccino in the corner cafeteria."

"Ohh, that cafeteria where they got those yellow, padded seats? And where you can drink the coffee from a mug where is illustrated a honeybee with a happy face?"

"No, that's not this one. But you can get Care Bears yoghurt in there, if you make a special order."

Lobe's eyes began to shine. "Really? Can I come with? Can I come?"

"Well… sure, but remember we need to be on stage in five minutes to film the scene where you reveal your newest evil scheme, and I narrate it to the audience." Nervously the storyteller took a peek at his timer once more. There were actually only four and a half minutes left. "We must hurry then, or I'll be fired."

"Oh, oh, I won't let that happen. Otherwise you cannot tell about my newest evil scheme! Let's run!" the villain snatched the sleeve of the other man and they disappeared into the open entrance of the backdoor.

Did you know? Most firefly larvae are found in rotting wood or other forest litter or on the edges of streams and ponds at night. Some Asian species are fully aquatic and live underwater, feeding on aquatic snails.

This important information was provided to you by Professor Phileas P. Hocuspocus. Now, we shall jump back to our story.

Five minutes… umm… I mean four and a half minutes later… Or actually, I think I lost a few seconds. And if we scrutinize the fractions of seconds, we come furthermore to microseconds, and nanoseconds, and even picoseconds. For that scientific study, we'll need a very reliable clock. But as there seems to be not a single one of those at hand, only grandfather's old longcase clock, we need to leave behind the interesting discussion about time and its relativity.

Thus, in a very dark and forbidding old building was sitting a black shadow in an antique chair. Its evil eyes flashed as two yellow spots in the murkiness, and a raving, manic laughter of wickedness was spreading its raven tentacles in the air. No words were there to describe the malevolence of this foe… this forceful foe that would soon take over the world with his newest evil scheme… with his newest evil invention… a… a… WINDMILL!

Silence.

Silence.

"Hey, Lobe, it's your turn!" the narrator tapped his shoe on the floor a bit hasty.

"Oh, oh, I'm sorry! I assumed there was going to be a hit of a thunderbolt at next?" the man in the antique chair apologized.

"No, the director decided to leave that away. Now comes your regular line."

"Oh, oh, right ahead!"

So, in the somber darkness could be heard devilish forces roaming, blending with the scorn that this enemy produced out of his throat.

"Hahaa! With my newest evil scheme I will take over the world! I have invented a multi-modulated superconductive windmill that will suck inside it all the electricity Tellus produces! Eehahaa! It will charge itself into a giant accumulator, and when it's completely charged, I can use that enormous battery to feed my new hyper-death ray and… DESTROY FREAKAZOID! Uahhaaah! Finally! Finally I will be able to get rid of that pest, and then… I will take over the world!"

And so this abhorrent threat was announced, and completed with a sinister gloating. But where is Freakazoid? Has he found a voluntarily taster for his parsnip pudding spiced up with sauerkraut? Will he be there in time to stop the Lobe? Have you done your math homework for tomorrow?

…TO BE CONTINUED…