AN: Ok this stupid thing was not supposed to become this long. But it needs still one chapter after this one to get the plot finished. The story still won't make much sense whatsoever, and is intended to be just parody, not meant to offend anyone. I (and the other pplz who build up this story) am making my own favorite characters completely insane here, but sometimes it's just fun to "bash" them a bit. Flame then if necessary. HP © JK Rowling, Star Wars © Lucasfilm, LOTR © JRR Tolkien, other Disney stuff belongs to Disney, and the stuff that I don't remember to mention here belongs to their respective companies.
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--A few days later, Capital Planet-
The LGM's new studies had not given Buzz quite good prospects. According to them, he suffered from a deep-rooted ego crisis. There was not an antidote for this, although the tiny green squeakers their heads smoking pondered a solution for this catastrophic dilemma. Namely, Buzz's state went day by day crazier. He could not be locked in to any loony house since not actually being a real imbecile. But oh the ego, oh the self-esteem... he sincerely had transformed so egoistic that even Warp's self-admiration faded beside the Captain's idiocy. It was said that perhaps only a mental shock -or alternatively a big hit on his head- could cancel the vile influence of the ego-boosting brainwaves.
Commander Nebula had set him free, but had ordered Lightyear's team to watch over the male. At the moment Nova and co. were spying at him by sitting on the terrace of a street café. The man himself was on a promenade, with a pack of squealing girls swarming behind him, heart-shaped reflections in their eyes asking for autographs. As he had been able to run free a few days, mountains had been moved. In a flash he had become a fashion star, thanks to the model agency. His mug was over-smugly grinning on every newspaper; advertisements with Buzz stamped on them were hanging from every lamppost, eaves, and so on. He ballyhooed everything. Exercise bikes, dog food, cuckoo clocks, flyswatters, egg boilers, and of course his own hair care products called InfinityGlitterlocks . Girls fainted as seeing him flex his steel-hard muscles in holo-ads, this of course causing a vast increase in the local ambulance patrolling. Capital Planet's this district's mayor had been forced to give orders of setting up miniature health centers to street corners so that the masses of indolent teenage lasses could be revived there.
"A morning bright hath fallen above us, as I rejoice seeing ye again!" a drawling greeting was heard from behind Mira. Booster and XR had already both noticed the over-bright star pattering towards them. Next they all turned about, nodding hellos with awkward smiles.
"Often I comprehend your splendid presence as I grandly take a promenade along the splendidly blessed streets of our Capital." Buzz smoothed out his black swallowtail's collars, giving also a light brush on the badge he had attached to his lapel. A glittering silver badge with his own face carved on it in sophisticated detail.
The rangers simpered again, not willing to reveal that they were actually snoopers.
"Uhh so how goes... umm... you look well-off", the Princess gave a nervous smirk.
"Marvelous, fabulous, thank you, mademoiselle Nova. I shall excuse also thine unladylike expression of question. Oh, but thou hast not perhaps heard the recent news in the abysm of time. I, with my grand self, have been selected to nobly contest together with the finest knights of our spectacular Galaxy." As a conclusion, he gave a slight bow.
"Has his brains been zapped to a wrong millennium or what's with the piffle he preaches? Is he trying to be some sort of Hamlet or some other ancient king that never spoke understandable English?" XR tilted his head.
"Umm what... what do you mean, Buzz?" the Tangean gave another antsy query, nudging also the bigmouth robot to be quiet.
"Oh but seest thou not the quest for glory and might? Thus thou shalt grow in wisdom, whilst I declare that I step on the challenging stage of the annual Mister Galaxy contest! The last chevalier was I to be chosen, but the kindness of the judges have brought me this far. Thus enter I must and show my full majesty; the grandeur I shall gain!"
Team Lightyear stared at him with stupefied miens, hoping that the LGM's would soon find a way to cure that self-worshipping snailbrain. Star Command needed him to defend the universe, not him to show off with his toothpaste smile and big pectorals elsewhere.
"M... Mister Galaxy contest? The one that's got the final in two weeks?" they all blurted out in 3D-sound.
"Indeed. I shall grant ye all with VIP tickets, so comfortably you can follow the tournament of the grand cup of vigor." Buzz drawled, taking three flat plastic cases out of his breast pocket. From his attaché case he also brought forth three action figures presenting himself, giving them together with the tickets to Booster, Mira, and XR.
"Au revoir, farewell, arrivederci! I ought to dash, my toe nail manicure shall commence in fifteen minutes."
"Cool! Buzz Lightyear toys!" Munchapper was the only happy one after the Captain had left, and walked the popinjay plaything along the coffee table surface. The mecha and the Princess were less cheerful. Mister Galaxy contest? This was going too far.
--Planet Z--
A tad of time Warp Darkmatter had been able to fake sick days and slip Zurg's next humiliating project, but now he had been forcibly dragged from his moon escorted by a few angry hornets. No more super model girls, parties, or swanking with his colossal blue chest (nowadays also hairy) at the outdoors pool. "Grmbfffgrrgggghhh... murf!" he snarled under his breath as lazily slouching towards the stock room, from where Zurg had ordered him to get the silk string and other implements for the ornament work. "I'll make him pay this some day! I'll tie him up to a chair and force him to listen to Britney Spears yodeling, twenty hours in row!" When cursing and shaking his fists, he had not even noticed that he had entered the door to the storage space. Now he woke up to spot one nasty side effect. He was stuck. Stuck in the middle of the doorframes that were just slightly narrower than his huge wide shoulders.
"What in the name of rotten antigravitation...?" he wriggled in the awkward position, remaining jammed. "Okey-dokey. I gained a neat amount of more bulk with the one-month super muscle training, but of course that double-doggone king of bugs did not widen his palace's doors to fit my newly trained looks!" In his quandary, he tried blasting the doorway broken with his weapon arm, but it was just perfectly stuck too so that he could not move it to any direction. The only way to get unstuck, was to yell for help.
Half an hour later a few grubs were unfastening Darkmatter by bit-by-bit laser-cutting the doorframes away. The Emperor was furious, since good strong doorframes were nowadays expensive to manufacture. And now he would need to invest money on doors so that his henchman would fit to walk through them? How debasing!
And even later, the poor blue creature was thrown in the Tartarus of handiwork. He sat his forehead sweating at a small table with a pile of napkins and string, trying to get the minuscule sewing-needle to remain in his huge thick fingers. The tiny thing kept popping out of his hold like a wet cake of soap, constantly vanishing on the dark purple floor. This forced him to look after it by crawling on all fours on the parquet, with a magnifying glass in his hand. And far much later, Darkmatter was sniveling at the same table, with one 'ready' napkin done. The decoration on it resembled something like a five-year-old would have bustled about. Because of some incomprehensible reason, the assumed Z-letter's form was more like a 'W', though hardly still recognizable.
"I'll never get this stupid girly gig done! Sniff! Buaaahhhaaaah! Warpy needs a hug!" he wept against his large palm, suddenly perking up though. Perhaps he could order someone else to do the job for him. Was not he the Warp Darkmatter, the rich evil genius who had money and power all over everything (except Zurg)? Thus he dialed a comlink number with his wrist communicator, and soon a perky voice answered in the vidscreen.
"Martha Steward Online, how can I help you?"
It was not a sweet cupcake for Warp to hear the results of his query; namely how much it would cost if some quick seamstress would come and fix the napkins for him. Two uni-bucks apiece, and there were thousands of those. But he had no choice: leave the glorious mission undone and his Master would degrade him to toil with the day salary of a brass button. Hence, swallowing his pride and making himself blind for the upcoming costs, he had to accept the lace-making services of Martha Steward Online.
Meanwhile, the main villain was traipsing impatiently around his throne room, charring a few lackeys with the electric charges coming from his fingers, every now and then. Either he had learned to use the force like some of the oldest Dark Lords (like Emperor Blahblah-Tine of the competing dark empire), or then simply he had a fancy pair of electroalloy gloves with lasershooting digits in his hands. This detail however is not anyhow essential concerning this story, so let us go on.
"Where is my plan of utter evilness? Lightyear is out of range now, so where is my plan of defeating Star Command? What is the evil scheme department doing? Having popcorn parties and watching Mickey Mouse while I slave away with my worries of getting the Alliance in my icy, violet, remorseless clutch?" he grabbed one of the cringing lackeys by collars, bringing his flashy laser regard near, "And I am positive that at least one of you eats my delicious Bunzel muffins behind my cape! Pfifft! Snorrf! The evil cake dish in my evil snack cupboard is always empty when I need a groovy muffin!"
Unfortunately, the minions' hands and heads were rather empty. There were no good plans of conquering the universe, although the situation would have been more than ideal. The ideas varied from reversing the plumbing of Capital Planet and stealing everyone's left shoe to blowing up the planet of pink fluffy bunnies as a horrible threat... But none of those quite much pleased the Master of Izzards. He could only remain huffing and puffing in his chair, his lackeys cleaning and repairing the helter-shelter gone throne room after his continuous blusters of wrath.
--Two weeks later--
Things had not much changed on the plains of good and villainous. The star cruisers in Lightyear's head were still in the wrong century, not to mention that he spent twenty-five hours a day in front of mirror with his gorgeous self. And on the other side of the Sector Four, an older priggish duffer with his reign of insects was still destitute of an appropriate scheme.
Yet, the river of time had advanced to the night of the Mister Galaxy contest's final. Buzz with his overpowering smile had won every single semifinal there had been left. Team Lightyear could just sighing shrug at his hyperbolic fame. Although... they had to admit he had certain charisma in his looks, but could not have ever believed him zooming this far with it. They followed him nearly everywhere, but this did not seem to bother at all the solo-singing looney tune. He plainly thought they were his loyal fans that wanted to escort Mr. Me and his magnificence. Daily, the trio was more or less happy to receive their portion of new Lightyear merchandise as a gift. Buzz Lightyear bedsheets, Buzz Lightyear ketchup, Buzz Lightyear mono-printers that self-generated high-quality pictures of Buzz Lightyear from plain sunlight.
Initially the confused triplet had set themselves on sinking dark-red seats lodging in a VIP-booth of a grand luxurious theatre hall. Trade World was of course the arena of the intergalactic challenge of six-packs and square jaws. The gala's host was ready on the stage with a grand orchestra tooting and booming below the main estrade. Heavy red velvet curtains, with gold decorations in them, surrounded the main events. The theater's high vaulted ceiling was holo-projected full of almost real-looking stars in order to make more impressive effects.
"Welcome to the final of the annual Mister Galaxy contest, ladies and gentlemen! Today, right here, will be selected The One, the one that deserves to be called the most handsome man of the Milky Way!" the host, who looked like a copy of Lord Greystoke, heralded with swings of arms. "Now, enter the contestants! We have ten gentlemen here, ten who have won all the semifinals of their quadrants! So it will be harder than a hard competition. Now... I present you the Tremendous Ten!" Thus the first show, the white tie performance, began. A side curtain opened, and males of different sizes and shapes one by one walked into view with presentations.
"On number one... blahblahblah..." Some cow from Rhizome waddled past, yackety-yakking some hippie talk about the healing force of flowers and trees. Half of the crowd fell asleep. "...number two this year is Mister Han Solo from Corellia..." The Captain of the famous Millennium Falcon traipsed by, dressed in a simple self-colored suit. A few well-selected wry sarcasms from him, and the drowsy spectators were back online with cheers. "...And...Numbuh three is Mr. Gantu from... blahblah...yadayadayada..."
Next, it was the familiar space ranger's turn. Team Lightyear slightly shuttered in their seats, waiting for the worst to happen. "And on number four... Mister Buzz Lightyear!" the amplifiers rang. The curtains flew aside, and forth minced the Captain, such an absurd get-up and expression on that Mira in her chair covered her eyes with her hands.
"I'm not seeing this! I'm not hearing this! I'm not here! I'm peacefully on a nice calm mission ducking plasma missiles and evading death rays..." she murmured monotonically in order to hide the sound of whistles coming from among the other audience. Buzz had some sort of orange-blue Renaissance man's outfit on; with breeches, plumed hat, a nobleman's doublet, buckled shoes, and the silvery cane that seemed to be glued in his hand. In other words, he looked simply crazy.
"Holy cratervipers! Has Buzz robbed a museum?" the robot reflected upon, but was nudged quiet by Booster who wanted to hear the host's speech.
"Nominee number four comes from the lush planet of Morph! This former famous space ranger, Order of Galactic Merit First Class, started a career as a fashion model just only a few weeks ago!" Buzz paraded and swirled around in the background, as the announcer kept the introduction. "In his free time, Mister Lightyear enjoys recitation, playing medieval love songs with a lute, and growing roses on his yard. And now, as a proof of talent, we can hear him reciting an extract from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet!"
Buzz struck a dramatic half-backwards-bent pose, laid his eyes at the ceiling and brought a hand on the place of his heart. His pompous chest-tone blazoned, "Here's much to do with hate, but more with love. Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate! O any thing, of nothing first create! O heavy lightness! serious vanity! Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms! Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick health...!" After the poetry, he gave a deep courtesy bow. The audience burst to admiring sighs and claps.
"Oh that was so touching! How romantic of him! Ohh he's my favorite that sweet Buzz!" an elder lady beside Nova wiped her eyes with a tissue.
"I can't believe, they're really liking him!" the Princess tilted her head.
"Yeah. I mainly thought he's gonna get a shower of rotten cauliflowers upon him", the mecha added, as surprised.
"Of course Buzz is everyone's favorite!" Booster went on defending his hero, "He's Buzz! And that poem was really pretty, I mean really really pretty!"
"And nominee number five is Draco Malfoy from Earth!" meanwhile the speakers went on, and on the stage walked some oily-haired young brat in black robes, his mien looking so sour as if he had eaten a whole basket of unripe lemons.
--Planet Z, the home of villainous extraordinaire--
Zurg sat on his throne, watching intensively the vidscreen that was installed in front of the seat. He had a huge bowl of popcorn shrimp perching in his lap, but the eating looked rather cranky. Since having his helmet on, he could not enjoy the delicious taste of the snack, but was satisfied with throwing the food over his shoulder as if it had looked like from a certain angle that it had actually vanished inside his mouth. Behind the throne, a grub with a dustpan cleaned the floor as more shrimp appeared there.
"Grub! More telly snackies!" the Emperor clicked his fingers when the dish was empty.
"Uhh... my evil Emperor, wouldn't it be easier to..." the lackey began.
"Yes yes I know I should go and put one of those dinner helmets on that has baleens in the place of the grill, but I cannot miss this show! I have to see if he wins!" the man shook frustrated his hand. "Oh and get Darkmatter here. He shall make a report on the advancing with the potato peeling in the first floor kitchen. Ahh it became so much cheaper to replace the broken peeling machine with that lazy, incompetent boob, than to spend shiny uni-bucks on a new pathetic wreck. The door projects cost already too much, I ought to do even more savings somehow."
The beetle spurted away, bringing Warp a few minutes later in. The blue man was anything but on an amused mood, and kept snarling at himself something about shoving a ton of potato peels down Zurg's collars and putting him to eat living Peevean slugs. He had suffered terrible losses recently, especially as receiving the bill that came with the ready napkins. Fine work, but also costing bananas. Yet, Zurg had not nominally degraded him, although the job assignments he got these days felt like that.
"You called me, Zee?" He tried at first to swallow the anger, but then fixed his gaze on the broadcast the purple villain was goggling at. "WHAT? The final of the Mister Galaxy contest is TODAY? But... but... butbutbut... I was supposed to be there!" he threw his both arms in the air yelling, "I won the qualifying contest of Zeta Quadrant! I was supposed to present Zeta Quadrant in the final! I would have won it with my devilishly gorgeous looks! I don't even need to flex a muscle and still most babes faint in front of me! I have a fan club of my own and I'm its main member! And you've kept me here weeks washing your socks and..."
"Pssht, now will you be quiet, Darkmatter. I sent Lardak Lurdak there instead of you. Now I want a full report on the potatoes." Zurg ignored Warp's fury.
"LARDAK LURDAK?" the half-robot's jaw hit the floor. "That that... even the guy in Edward Munch's "Scream" looks better than he! Wonder ya didn't send the Swamp Thing there!"
"Yes yes do not interrupt with that now. They headed him off already before the live show began. He is not there to spoil it."
"Then why are ya watching it?" Darkmatter was utterly thunderstruck. Year after year his boss became more and more irrational. But the riddle opened to him as he saw Buzz walking on the screen. "What? Is Lightbeer there? You want to see if that ninny with the abnormally large chin wins the Mister Galaxy contest?"
"Of course I want my son to win, you dim-wit!" the furious Emperor's laser regard flashed and charred a part of his own statue behind the ducking target. "He has inherited his father's glorious outer appearance although he is such a lack-wit and stump... ahh I mean... ehh..." his eyes had suddenly turned as round as O-letters when noticing what he had let out of his grilled trap. It was his luck that he had skipped the logopedics lessons. He slurred so badly with the whiny helmet, that Darkmatter usually missed half of the sentences he bellowed. Equally now. "Ahh I mean, I want to see if my enemy wins! If he does not, I shall destroy Star Command. If he does, I shall destroy it as well. There are two good reasons to watch it!"
"So ya got now a plan how to destroy Star Command?"
"No I do not have a plan! Will you shut up and tell me the report already! Huuhuhuu... although if you shut up, you cannot tell the report. So I am generously giving you the permission to speak." Smiling Zurg set his fingers calmly together, before letting a 120-decibel roar out of his throat. "NOW TELL THAT BLASTED THING ALREADY and AFTER THAT, SHUT UP! And one more thing. Do not insult little Buzzy at my presence."
--Meanwhile...--
The contest of handsomeness had advanced with leaps. The air buzzed with enthusiastic anticipation amidst the female audience. The swimsuit round was coming. The few men sitting in the middle of the hyper-charmed women looked rather bitter. So did XR. Especially as two young girls in the row before him were giggling and whispering something about Captain Lightyear, pointing slightly at the entrance curtains with a finger.
"I mean come on! They're ogling even the empty stage!" the robot spread his arms. "What's the deal? Is it only the muscle that matters? Heyyy! I'm here toooo! A cool guy with brains!" he rose up, and drew a colorful flag out of his inners, beginning to wave it. But he returned soon on his spot, when seeing Mira's murderous frown.
Oohs and aahs with squeals echoed through the spectators as Number One traipsed on the stage. Mister Solo received even louder courtesy as the previous one; with his ultra-sly smile he put the women's heads spin. However, none else applicant received such cheers as Buzz. Seemingly he had rehearsed some sort of a little play for this summit of the evening. As it was his turn to sneak forth with his black swimming trunks, half of the hall's females fainted. With a pattern of some sort, he flexed his massive biceps, plumed himself on with his gravity-threatening thorax, threw a few skilled somersaults in the air, and lastly remained in a stable pose with a smug grin and his eight-pack stomach muscles tightened to form a neat washboard. At this point, even the last girls had swooned to the lands of dreams, excluding Team Lightyear's only representative of this gender. Though, even Nova had to admit that Buzz did look rather impressive. She winced up to XR's nudges and yelps.
"AAAA! Now even you fell in that horrible trance! Wake up! Wake up before it's too late! The hypno-muscles are taking over the world!"
"XR! Cut it out!" she retorted annoyed. "I'm not smitten with that guy. He's just my commanding officer. I like a lot better Rom... ahh ummh n-never mind. Commander Nebula has ordered us to keep an eye on Buzz so that's what we're doing here, nothing else!"
"Keep an eye on him, definitely... I think most of the people are keeping an EYE or even more eyes on him!" the mecha folded his arms over his chest, remaining sulky.
The swimsuit tour was finally over, and the night's dazzling highlight speeded forth with lightspeed. The host stood now on the stage with closed envelopes in his hands. Silence filled the audience.
"It has come time to name our winners! It has come time to select the most handsome man of the Galaxy!" Overdramatic music rumbled in the background. The announcer opened the first envelope annoyingly slow, so that thirty percent of the crowd bit their nails broken during the prolonged nervous waiting.
"And the second Crown Prince is... Number ten! Mister Legolas Greenleaf from Middle-Earth!"
A sea of applauses. The lucky one received his prize. Then, more names were shouted out loud.
"The first Crown Prince is... Number two! Mister Han Solo from Corellia!"
A stormy sea of applauses. The king of sardonic irony flashed his patented smile and received a trophy bigger than the previous hunk.
"And ladies and gentleman, at this point I would like to announce the two honorary places of The Favorite of Press and The Favorite of Audience! Aaaand..." more paper trash fell onto the floor as more envelopes were ripped open. "Both places go to... Number four! Mister Buzz Lightyear from Morph!"
A supernova of applauses and girly shrieks. Team Lightyear at the background raised their brows with surprise. Buzz' arms were dumped full of flowers and all kinds of junk. Then... drum, drum, drrrumm... the climax grew up to its zenith. The last seal would be broken any second... the host brought the shiny name card at his nose...
"And the winner of the annual Mister Galaxy contest is..." Gasps. Melodramatic yelps. "...the winner is gentleman number... number FOUR! Mister Buzz Lightyear!" the announcer volleyed the answers. A loud common inhale could be heard clanging in the large hall. Thunk, thunk, thud, several maidens lost their conscious in rapture and fell on the floor. Then, cheers with the force of ten supernovas. On the VIP-row, the space rangers could do nothing but stare at each other in sheer stupefaction. Buzz had won?
--Planet Zeta-Zee and a trillion izzards more--
Zurg snapped the vidscreen shut. Grumbling and hissing with jealousy, Warp literally boiled beside the throne. His arch-foe had snatched his prize right in front of his nose! And the Emperor just seemed utterly happy with it, having an overwide smirk on his helmet. Yet, the topic shifted soon as a certain someone began rubbing his hands together with enthusiasm.
"Ahh and now it shall be the time to attack Star Command and take over the Galaxy! Lightyear will not be around, he shall be too busy with celebrating his victory and looks!"
"How about the plan then?" Warp sighed frustrated.
"Ommooh...indeed..."
"Look, boss, if ya don't have a plan, why not just to order a full-scale assault with hornets to that Star Trek? Lightsnack hardly will be there."
"Pfft, Darkmatter, what a witless suggestion. That is all too easy. It will not work." Zurg snorted sourly, putting then a metallic finger up to point at his sudden idea light bulb. "I know! I have a marvelously vile scheme in my mind! I shall order a full-scale assault with hornets to Star Command! Lightyear hardly will be there, it shall be all defenseless! Muwahahahah! I give myself chills of being such an evil genius! Wrahahahah!" In the background, Warp was gagged. Zurg had just stolen his plan, and taken all the glory from it. But regarding the Big Zee, it was his perk. A perk that came with the job: to filch wickedly others' ideas, blow up planets, and watch Toy Story as many hours in row as willing. But, actually this time the theft brought Warp something else to do than braid garlands from purple tulips (which would have been next on the Emperor's to-do list). He would step in to his warship to co-lead the dark army on a real mission.
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Next chapter comes later (again). Zurg attacks Star Command... but how will Buzz survive now as he's thrown in the middle of the battle? Get ready to bore and snore.