Untitled

Spyro the Dragon and all associated material are copyrighted (C) 2001 to Universal Studios.

Hapoppo, EVIL NACHOS, and all associated material are trademarked (TM) 2001 to Leonard Carwile.

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IT WAS TWO YEARS PAST... BUT I CANNOT LET IT GO. HOW IT COULD HAVE HAPPENED, I AM AFRAID TO ASK.

These are the thoughts that flow through the mind of a defeated genius. The untold humiliation of letting a simple seam break an entire plot is so untold, that it is untold beyond untoldiness. And now, these burdens weigh heavy upon an old foe of a hero, much too heavy to be forgotten - they are burdens that can only be relesed by having their master re-summoned, and destroyed. This is where our story begins.

It was a dark and stormy night... IN SPACE! An endless black canvas spangled in an infinite dress of stars stretched on for eternity. But in the midst of it all, the pattern was disrupted by an ominous shadow. And within this shadow, an unfathomable evil toiled.

Within this shadow were thousands of little NACHOS, with little NACHO eyeballs and little NACHO eyebrows, with their little NACHO teeth and little NACHO brains. They prefer their names to be spelled in caps, as they feel it expresses their superior abilities, and they talk in caps, because they forgot to turn off the caps lock, or something. These NACHOs work as a unity, oft represented by an individual NACHO. They come from the Planet W, and search the universe for worlds to conquer. They are the EVIL NACHOS.

CHEESOR, the greatest NACHO of them all, lives within this mighty flying space-fortress. At the moment of our story, CHEESOR stood in his room, staring out his window into deep space. Within those walls, the world beyond was nonexistent. The muffled sounds of space, the loud humming and whirring of the machinery within the engine room, the shouts of the workers, all was silenced by the small world surrounding CHEESOR.

The silence was interrupted by the sound of CHEESOR's informant, #2.

"SIR, WE ARE REACHING OUR DESTINATION." #2 said, in a low-pitched, growling voice. "WE WILL SOON BE BLA BLA BLA AND BLA BLA BLA DEPARTURE BLA BLA BLA BLA AWAY TEAM BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA."

CHEESOR ignored #2, and continued to stare out the window.

"ADDITIONALLY, WE HAVE DETERMINED THAT BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA LANDING GROUNDS BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA MADE UP SCIENTIFIC TERMS BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA."

It was like #2 never shut up. This is how he was all the time; once he smashed two words together to form what slightly resembles a new word, he'd begin making up bizarre scenarios and throwing his faux words here and there to make him sound intelligent at no stop. In fact, he talked so much, some swear they hear him in the bathroom some times telling his toilet plunger about how he saved the ship from an invisible famblegore shield by setting the gradosine level to 0. Nobody knew what the froob he was talking about, and nobody cared. That's how he came to achieve such a high ranking in CHEESOR's army.

"BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA" #2 continued, "BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA".

Still, CHEESOR stood motionless, staring out his window.

"FURTHERMOR, LORD CHEESOR, THERE HAS BEEN A RECENT FINDING OF BEER ABOARD OUR CAFETERIA."

Still no response.

"AND SOME JOKER HAS BEEN MAKING COUNTERFEIT DOLLARS WITH PICTURES OF BILL GATES MOONING THE POSESSOR."

No response.

"I WEAR FRILLY PINK PANTIES, SIR."

No response.

"I BELIEVE BLUE IS TRYING TO TELL US SOMETHING! THEN, LET US PLAY BLUE'S CLUES!"

No response. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but #2 began to feel he wasn't wanted. Without another word to CHEESOR, #2 left the room, telling each bush in the hallway outside about his adventures against the mysterious Folgo energy on his way back to his post. CHEESOR continued to stand by the window, completely void of any animation. A few silent minutes passed.

"AH YES, THIS IS THE PERFECT PLACE FOR MY FLINTSTONES WINDOW STICKERS!" he said, breaking his train of silence.

What are the EVIL NACHOS' intentions?

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By now the Town Square skateboard park's ground was beginning to look more like a kintergarten art project than a sporting arena. Spyro had been scraping a stick across the sandy pavement, drawing all over the skateway in an attempt to pass time.

"Hunter, you idiot..." Spyro grumbled to himself. He and his best friend had scheduled a skateboarding face-off for around now, but as usual, Hunter was late. Of course, for something as dear to Hunter as skateboarding, he was formerly the one waiting for Spyro, arriving five to ten minutes ahead of schedule. But it seemed that after Hunter's new love life with Bianca (Or "Lemonhead" as he called her behind her, and Hunter's backs) he was almost non-existent. It often lead him to think it would probably have been better if Hunter and Bianca were never united, but whenever that thought would cross his mind it would make him feel guilty; he's 23 years old, it's about time he has a taste of life outside of skateboarding anyhow. Spyro figured it may have been time to take action as well, finding friends his own age or getting hooked up like Hunter and Lemonhead out prancing somewhere in la-la land. Not that that's really all that easy a task, seeing as how all of the female dragons out there were either in diapers or looking to buy a new house. And Elora... well, Spyro never looked for a reason, he just kept telling himself that it's not gonna happen.

"Oucht!" Spyro growled imatiently. STILL no sign of Hunter anywhere.

Being the prince of dragons AND a hero at the same time, Spyro had two sides to his personality: his selfless "hero" side and his spoiled brat "prince" side. Although he usually tries to restrain his less charming trait, now was definitely not an exemplary time. To vent his frustration, Spyro kicked the tail of his skateboard and let it flip up into the air, then head back to the ground with a loud slap on contact. Spyro then picked his skateboard up, dusted it off, and decided that so long as Hunter wasn't present, he might as well get warmed up.

"Hey, Spyro!" Just as he placed his skateboard on the sidewalk ramp, put one foot on the board, and brought back his other leg to thrust himself off to a rolling start, he heard his name being called and looked back to see Hunter, skateboard in tow, running towards him. Go figure.

A little short on breath, Hunter stopped a couple feet away from Spyro and paused to reclaim his energy. "Sorry I'm late, but I had to get hitch... err... hitch a ride from one of my friends." he said apologetically. Spyro felt like cursing him out, but decided it's not worth it. When you get to be Hunter's age, long legs and curvaceous thighs seem to be some of life's only pleasures, and it's best not to deny him his greatest chance at happiness; and besides, he figured Lemonhead probably does enough impunctuality-based chewing out as is. Either that or Spyro's training himself to supress his spoiled "prince of dragons" attitude was more effective than he had thought.

Spyro relaxed his skaing position into a more casual quadropedal stance. "Aah... no problem, I guess. So whaddya wanna start with? Ramps, racing, Horse... ?"

"How 'bout we start out simple: Wipe Out." Wipe Out was Hunter's favorite, and when he had his way it was always the first and last challenge they played. The basic concept was to take the nastiest ramps imaginable, and the first to wipe out... well... lost. The rules were simple, but Spyro and Hunter were the only two who could ever even get through the game for more than seven seconds, which was probably why Hunter found it so amusing. Of course with a game like Wipe Out there would obviously be a few casualties, namely skinned arms and sizable bruises, that Spyro's old man reasoned made the game quite objectionable. But seeing as how Spyro's faced some worse scrapes than the ones on his knees before, he didn't much mind ignoring authority. Strike up another one for the "prince" side.

"Is that the best you can do? I'll be waitin' for ya at the finish line then, pussycat!" Spyro resumed his "ready" skating position and waited for the signal, and followed-up his taunt, "Try not to break your head again!"

"Alright, tough guy! Ready? Aaaaaaaaand... GO!!!!!"

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It's going to be just another day at the theatre, really. A nice shirt, a good lunch, and the trusty Kill(TM) 2,000 were all that a manager needs to deal a day with customers and disobedient employees alike. Occasionally, a few scribble books would accompany me as well. But otherwise, nothing new. Maybe I can talk the GM into getting those high-voltage electric auditorium door handles today for a slight change of pace. Maybe..

At least, these were the thoughts that ran through the little white cat's head as he prepared to go to work. Holding the proud title of Assistant Theatre Death Manager at the young age of eight, this little cat had a very high self-esteem. And what manager, in charge of sheer life-opposing force, wouldn't be proud to hold that position? Especially when you get to take out your rage on its very cause.

"Hapoppo!" A voice was heard from the other room. The Other Room, a dimension where cherries are called berries and wheels are made out of cars, and cars out of wheels, was the snug little home to Hapoppo, his brothers and sisters, and a shoe. Hapoppo turned around to see his sister Tina carrying his lunchbox by its strap, since it kept slipping when she tried to grab it by the strawberry yogurt. "Hapoppo, don't forget to take your lunch! You remember what happened last time you forgot it, don't you?" Tina lectured. "Err... right. I forgot all about it when I got home, then it started getting kinda old, and started turning all funny shapes and colors, and then... well... the birth of Ronald McDonald. You know the rest." Hapoppo responded in his lisping, young voice, somewhat humiliated for receiving a lecture from his own triplet sister. "Well anyhow, have a good day, Hapo! And remember: Theatopia!" And with that, Hapoppo walked over to his car, and drove off in it, since that's what cars do.

Ah yes, Theatopia Cinemas 250. The legendary theatre. The world's largest 250-plex, and an Assistant Manager's dream. Especially an Assistant Death Manager's dream. There have been stories from some who have gone there. Each auditorium was 100% equipped with ejection seats, activated at the push of a button. Animatronics based on the movies would come alive and develop a will of their own, leaving a path of destruction in their wake. And the exits, lined with autolaunching butt-seeking boot-missiles. Hapoppo let his mind wander on, until eventually it wandered into a shoestore and he was forced to bring Shoetopia Soulnemas Shoefifty to a close. Unfortunately, Hapoppo's phantasizing about the glory that is Theatopia had sort of dullened his perspective on his own theatre, Frugal Sinemas 15, which he knew would make his day a bit longer.

Hapoppo arrived at Frugal approximately nine minutes early, as usual, and didn't once think about how his theatre was made out of a giant, lone shoe. Which is really strange, because his theatre was made out of... well... a giant, lone shoe. So, anyhow, Hapoppo worked. At his job. Since that's what he's paid to do.

Bob the Clown loved to dawdle. In fact, he dawdled so much that he dawdled when a herd of elephants charged his path, 'cuz he was holding lots and lots of peanuts. Then the peanuts got turned into peanut butter, and Bob the Clown got turned into Clown Butter. The moral of this story: Cat Butter is NOT to be a grocery store aisle selection.

Having finished the job for the day, our sexy, masculine centerpoint of attention decided it was about time to kick back with his friends at their favorite hang out place, There. There, much preferred over its competitors Here and Stinky Pool Fart Bubble Land for obvious reasons, was like a restaurant, only with nerds. There's walls were wallpapered in video game posters, with the occasional light switch or two attempting to drag a fanboy to his doom. The floors reflected the convulsive flashing neon lights from the roof, with the occasional light switch or two attempting to drag a fanboy to his doom. And of course, the rooms were lined with arcade machines and tables, with the occasional fanboy or two attempting to drag a lightswitch to his doom.

Hapoppo arrived through the doors and approached he and his friends' usual hangout table, deciding that he'd do the whole "getting out of his car" thing later. The gang was all there: Catten, a black cat who always wore a tilted witch hat, and was skilled in the art of witchcraft; Tina, previously mentioned; Tina, previously mentioned; Kiro, a white, spotted cat with short hair and a pink mini-skirt, and probably the most effeminate girl the world has known; Mitaru, a red cat that never says anything coherent; and Jarni, Hapoppo's triplet brother, a short, fat blue cat that always eats, since that's how he does that "living" thing he does so well. After a brief greeting among friends, it was time to shift the day out of "boring", and into "less boring".

The day had started for Hapoppo the same was all other days did, so Hapoppo was expecting it to end the same, too. But an unfortunate twist of fate, as little Hapoppo would soon find out, was unwilling to meet the cat's expectations...

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