"M-Mario Bros," Strong Bad mumbled in his sleep. He had fallen asleep checking his email again. Nobody sent him anything good anymore, they all ask the same old stuff. All of a sudden, the Lappy turned on, and the familiar start-up noise woke up Strong Bad.
"Mushroom! Oh, must have a new email," he said, yawning and scratching his side, "Well let's see what kind of terror I have to endure now. What day is it?"
He looked over at his calendar, and it said "Wednesday 21". The color drained from his wrestling-mask face as he realized he had to use this last email for the show.
"Aw, dang," he said, dejected, "Let's hope it's a good one..."
He pressed the button on his laptop, and the email scrolled onto the screen. He took a couple minutes to read it a few times to himself, before reading it out loud.
"Dear Strong Bad," he said very monotonously, "I was just wondering what would happen if you finally got that multiple-universe portal that you bought, like, three years ago. I bet you could use that for such hilarious purposes, making you even more famous and a chick-magnet. Sincerely yours, Patrick Gallagher, Massachusetts."
He stopped. He heard the mailbox slam outside, and the creak of the metal hinge going up. He ran to the window, and was shocked to see Homsar dressed as the mailman, carrying a large bag.
"Hey Homsar!" Strong Bad shouted out of the window, "What'd you do to the mailman?"
"Well, bad muscleman," Homsar shouted back, "I was just doing my daily turn of delivering your postals!"
"I assume he meant 'I was giving you your mail'," Strong Bad said to himself, then he shouted back at Homsar, "But wait, I've seen you in my house when the mail got here!"
"I'm a magical toadstool, Parson!"
"Yeah, that was expected."
Strong Bad pulled his head back into
the window, and he hit it on the top of the windowsill. Grumbling in
pain, he walked down the stairs into the kitchen. He opened the
fridge, and grabbed a bottle of Mountain Dew. He took a swig, the put
it on the counter, and shut the fridge.
"Nothing like a little
dew to cheer me up after talking to that mess," Strong Bad thought.
He walked outside to find a large box where his mailbox was. He ran
over to it, and read the side of the box.
"Multiple Universe Portal?" he shouted, "Dang, that Patty was right!"
Somehow, he managed to move the box into his backyard, and called Strong Sad out of the house. After a few hours, they (meaning Strong Sad) set up the entire thing, and gathered the rest of the crew around them.
"Alright, everybloody," Strong Bad said, "Settle down, the nerdy one has some 'safety precautions' to say. So shut up and listen, if you want to make it out alive."
"Well, actually Strong Bad," Strong Sad said, "There's a larger chance of survival than death. Actually, it's near-impossible to die while doing this-"
"Yeah, yeah. Get to safety precaution-ing."
"Okay, fine. Well, this portal can take us between alternate universes. With it, we can explore the unknown past and future. This portal gives us the power to not only defy the laws of physics, but also break the fourth wall constantly."
"What's a fourth wall?" Homestar Runner asked from the crowd.
"Yeah, and what's this talk about physics?" added Coach Z, "Did you all know I was a physics professor at-"
"We don't want your crappy stories, Coachstar Runner and Home Z," said Strong Bad, "Now shut up!"
"Alright, fine," said Coach Z, "But only if I can keep that awesome name!"
"People!" Strong Sad shouted, "I have important safety matters to discuss! Now, back to the fourth wall-"
Just then, the portal burst into power. A large, swirling vortex appeared. Out walked three figures, all three of which Strong Bad easily recognized.
"I-Is that-" he stammered.
"Greetings from Planet K!" said the one with blue hair, "I am called Stinkoman!"
"I knew it!" Strong Bad shouted.
"And I'm 1-up!"
Nobody said anything. 1-up looked at the ground, dejected.
"Okay, now can we please get this safety thing done?" Strong Sad asked.
"No, roundy-man. I need to break the fourth wall!" Stinkoman shouted. "Alright, everybody. Stand in place until the writer decides to write about us again!"
"What?" asked Homestar.
"Too late," said Stinkoman.
