Act or Skit II
Quick, get the license of that intergalactic blimp!
Bill Grey, the young leader of husky squadron, bulldog squadron, Shi-Tzu squadron,
borzoi squadron, and thus pretty much all of Fluffy Dog fighter wing, woke up strapped
to a massive dentist chair-like chair. Not to say it was entirely like a dentist chair, but
it wasn't not entirely like one. Oh my, I've gone and done it again, haven't I?
Anyway, the chair itself wasn't important, but the fact that Bill woke up strapped to it
was. If he had gone to sleep in such a predicament, it would have made more sense, but
he didn't. He had gone to sleep, like most other normal people on Katina, in his own
freakin' bed. This chair obviously wasn't his bed, and although some of the cruder
elements of the squadrons he led would joke otherwise, he never had to be strapped
down to his bed.
"Well, this certainly is interesting," was all Grey could think, realizing the whole
depth of the situation, which was: not only was he strapped in, but his legs were
shackled to the bottom of it. If he wanted to simply get up and walk off, he couldn't. He
COULD attempt to dislocate his wrists and ankles, thus making escape simpler, but hey,
he didn't. I'm trying to be dramatic with a dire situation, damn it. So there he sat,
utterly confused but willing to go along with whatever was going on.
"Ah, it's probably my squadron mates, and they're just pulling a prank. Some one is
going to come in and pretend to torture me! It's almost kind of funny, actually." and he
remained sitting there, smiling without a care in the world.
Suddenly, he heard the unmistakable sound of a door needing WD-40 open behind him.
The measured, heavy footprints didn't remind him of anyone he knew, but then again,
he didn't quite make it a habit of memorizing footprint noises. So he turned his head as
far as he could over his left shoulder, and caught a glimpse of his visitor.
There, in the white light of the doorway, stood Leon Powalski. In one hand, he held a
thermos cup up to his lips, and in another, a piece of paper and what appeared to be a
lunchbox with a Hello-Kitty design on the front.
"Leon? What the hell are you doing here? What the hell am I doing here, for that
matter?"
The lizard raised the spot on his reptilian head where his eyebrows would be, and
nearly spitting out the drink in his mouth, shouted "I thought you would know!"
"What's that supposed to mean?!"
"I was just sitting in the barracks reading, when this guy dressed up like one of you
yokels came up and said come here with this lunch-box and this piece of paper, and you
would tell me what's going on!"
"What?"
"I don't know! Oy, is there anything in here I can sit on?"
Bill glanced around quickly, and noticed the light from the doorway behind him
reflecting off what appeared to be a folding chair.
"I think that's a folding chair over there." he said, nodding his head in the direction of
the light gleam.
"A folding chair? Where?"
"Over there. That folding chair."
"Oh yeah, that folding chair!"
"Yeah, THAT folding chai-
---------------
NOTICE: THE AUTHOR WOULD LIKE TO APPOLOGIZE, IT WOULD SEEM
THAT ONE OF HIS ASSOCIATE CREATORS HAS APPEARED TO HAVE
SIMPLY GONE FUNNY. Y'KNOW, JUST A LITTLE FUNNY. WE SHOULD
HAVE CAUGHT THE SIGNS EARLIER, BUT WERE NOT ALLOWED TO
TAKE ACTION AGAINST HIM BECAUSE OF PROJECT: "CORNERIAN
BOOTSTRAP." (THANK YOU, GENERAL PEPPER.) ANYHOW, THAT
SUB-CREATOR HAS BEEN SACKED. NOW, WE RETURN YOU TO THE
PRE=PLANNED FAN FICTION. THANK YOU.
--------------
So Leon, after setting the chair up next to the other, larger one in which Bill was still
strapped to, slumped down and exhaled sharply. He had the lunchbox resting on his
right leg, and in his left hand, he held the now slightly crumpled piece of paper.
Bill looked inquisitively at the paper, and sheepishly asked: "So, what's that say?"
Leon snorted, and glanced at it. "Uhm, well, this is sort of- uh what?"
"What- is it unintelligible?"
"No, no, it's very easy to make out what it says, it's just that WHAT it says is sort of
interesting. I'm kind of wondering if this is a mistake."
"Well, what does it say?"
Leon cleared his throat. He rolled his head to get a crick out of his neck, cleared his
throat again, popped his knuckles, and cleared his throat again.
"Got a frog in your throat?" Bill asked. "I think I have some cough-drops in my pocket,
I just can't reach it."
"No thanks. I'm just getting over a cold, bloody stupid Venomese High Command. Made
us meet up with our superior officer on Fortuna, cripes that was dumb."
"You should sue."
"I should."
The two nodded for a minute.
"Anyway," Bill asked again, "What does that paper say?"
"Oh right. Okay, it says: `As a matter of building dramatic tension in the electronically
composed and archived fan fiction currently under the title "Smother Mother Epsilon,"
the non-important but pivotal character "Bill Grey" must be tortured by "Leon
Powalski." Emphasis must be made on how "Bill Grey" is suffering at the hands of a
supposedly vile enemy. For further effect, he must begin to ramble incoherently and
perhaps even pray to a made up entity called "black robe spirit," or have an epiphany
that his mother was not as cracked up as she was made to be. Machine tally of a vote
held by Global Carbide and Laundromat of who should be tortured and who should be
torturing whom is as follows:' and it kind of goes on like that for three more
paragraphs."
Bill blinked, swallowed hard, and after a period of awkward silence quipped "You're
kidding."
"Nope, it actually says that."
"Well, that sucks."
"Yeah, I guess it does. Say, I wonder what the deal with the lunch-box is-"
Powalski opened up the red plastic container and looked as carefully as he could at its
contents. It wasn't too pleasant sight, mainly a lot of sharp implements designed to
slash, lacerate, poke, gouge, scratch, thrash, bash, lather, rinse, and repeat.
"I'll be darned. I think it's a torture kit."
"Really?"
"Either that, or a really nasty looking sewing kit."
"Hmm."
"Hmm."
Bill stared at Leon. Leon stared at Bill. In the distance, a car door shut.
Bill began (again, he's got a history so far of beginning sayings, doesn't he?) "So, you
have to torture me now?"
"Yeah, hey, do you bleed a lot?"
"What?"
"Well, if I'm supposed to be torturing you, I don't want you bleeding all over the place."
"I think if you're going to be doing such a thing, it's kind of a given that I'll be
bleeding, at least a little."
"Okay, well, let's just try something."
"What do you mean try something-"
Before he could finish, Leon had pulled out one of the many, many knives in the
lunchbox and simply cut off the little finger on Grey's right hand.
"Boy, now doesn't that smart!" Bill said, looking at his now deformed hand. "Hmm,
hey, see what happens with the other one."
WHOK
"Huh, nothing. Now isn't that odd, y'know, this all reminds me of something I read
once. It was popular when it came out, but GEEZ! What was it's name?" he lowered
his snout, so the tip of it was nearly touching his chest, like he always did when deep
in thought. "C'mon c'mon c'mon, what was it called?"
Leon, busily digging another tool out of the Hello Kitty lunchbox clicked his tongue
against his teeth for a moment, and offered "I think I know what you're talking about,
er, Soul Train Survivor?"
"No, not that. That one was just really long-winded, er Mamma-Jamma Ocean, I
think."
"Yeah, that sounds right. Yeah, it OH I CAN'T STAND IT! I CAN'T STAND IT
ANYMORE!" he suddenly cried, throwing the lunchbox down onto the floor. "I never
wanted to do this! I, this isn't my calling! I never wanted to do this!"
He fell over sobbing, then picked himself up. Grabbing Bill's collar, he stared into the
husky's eyes, and sobbing even louder proclaimed "I'm not a bad person! People just
keep telling me to do things for payment, and I do them! Oh, I am fortune's fool! I
never wanted to be this anti-Christ-like villain! I never even wanted to be a StarFox
character! Do you know what I wanted to be, Bill? Do you?" he continued staring into
Grey's eyes, giving his best impression of Captain Kirk with hemorrhoids.
"Uh," Bill asked, shifting his eyes around the room now even more confused than ever.
"Uh, what what did you er, want to be, uh, Leon?"
Leon, stood up, sniffing loudly. "I wanted to be- I I i i i-"
Suddenly, Andrew, Pigma, Caiman, and five or so Venomese officers, (all of them in
full dress uniform including peaked cap) ran in and grouped up behind Leon as if they
were posing for a school photograph. Leon puffed his chest out proudly, and boomed:
"I wanted to be a LUMBERJACK!"
From somewhere in the distance, a lively trumpet chorus began. The group continued.
------------------------------
Leon (speaking): Leaping, from tree to tree as they float down the mighty rivers of
Katina, or Macbeth, or some other planet like that! With my best girl at my side! We'd
Sing! Sing! SING!
(Music picks up. Leon starts singing.)
Leon: I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay!/I sleep all night and I work all day!
Pigma, Caiman, Andrew, and officers: He's a lumberjack and he's okay!/ He sleeps all
night and he works all day!
Leon: I cut down trees,/ I eat my lunch/ I go to the lava-try!/ On Wednesdays I go
shoppin',/ and have buttered scones for tea!
Chorus: He cuts down trees,/ he eats his lunch,/ he goes to the lava-try!/ On Wednesdays
he goes shoppin',/ and has buttered scones for tea!
Leon and choir: I'm (He's) a lumberjack and I'm (he's) okay!/ I (he) sleep(s) all night
and I (he) work(s) all day!
Leon: I cut down trees,/ I skip and jump,/ I like to press wild-flowers!/ I put on women's
clothing,/ and hang around in bars!
Choir: He cuts down trees,/ he skips and jumps,/ he likes to press wild- flowers!/ He puts
on women's clothing, and hangs around IN BARS?!!
(choir mills about and yell at each other trying to comprehend what they just sang for a
little bit until music picks up again, then they start singing with the chorus.)
Chorus.
Leon: I chop down trees,/ I wear high=heels,/ suspendies and a bra!/ I wish I'd been a
girlie, just like dear old Andross!
Choir: He cuts down trees,/ he wears high-heels,/ suspendies and A BRA?!!
(they mill about and yell at each other again, but not rejoining to sing even as the
music continues they finally just stomp out. The door slams behind them. Leon runs off
into the shadows, sobbing again.)
Bill: Well, that was sudden. Hey! I've got no little fingers! What the hell?
NEXT CHAPTER: WILL FREE MEN SUBMIT THEIR NAMES OR SHALL
THEY GO SHIRTLESS??!!
Quick, get the license of that intergalactic blimp!
Bill Grey, the young leader of husky squadron, bulldog squadron, Shi-Tzu squadron,
borzoi squadron, and thus pretty much all of Fluffy Dog fighter wing, woke up strapped
to a massive dentist chair-like chair. Not to say it was entirely like a dentist chair, but
it wasn't not entirely like one. Oh my, I've gone and done it again, haven't I?
Anyway, the chair itself wasn't important, but the fact that Bill woke up strapped to it
was. If he had gone to sleep in such a predicament, it would have made more sense, but
he didn't. He had gone to sleep, like most other normal people on Katina, in his own
freakin' bed. This chair obviously wasn't his bed, and although some of the cruder
elements of the squadrons he led would joke otherwise, he never had to be strapped
down to his bed.
"Well, this certainly is interesting," was all Grey could think, realizing the whole
depth of the situation, which was: not only was he strapped in, but his legs were
shackled to the bottom of it. If he wanted to simply get up and walk off, he couldn't. He
COULD attempt to dislocate his wrists and ankles, thus making escape simpler, but hey,
he didn't. I'm trying to be dramatic with a dire situation, damn it. So there he sat,
utterly confused but willing to go along with whatever was going on.
"Ah, it's probably my squadron mates, and they're just pulling a prank. Some one is
going to come in and pretend to torture me! It's almost kind of funny, actually." and he
remained sitting there, smiling without a care in the world.
Suddenly, he heard the unmistakable sound of a door needing WD-40 open behind him.
The measured, heavy footprints didn't remind him of anyone he knew, but then again,
he didn't quite make it a habit of memorizing footprint noises. So he turned his head as
far as he could over his left shoulder, and caught a glimpse of his visitor.
There, in the white light of the doorway, stood Leon Powalski. In one hand, he held a
thermos cup up to his lips, and in another, a piece of paper and what appeared to be a
lunchbox with a Hello-Kitty design on the front.
"Leon? What the hell are you doing here? What the hell am I doing here, for that
matter?"
The lizard raised the spot on his reptilian head where his eyebrows would be, and
nearly spitting out the drink in his mouth, shouted "I thought you would know!"
"What's that supposed to mean?!"
"I was just sitting in the barracks reading, when this guy dressed up like one of you
yokels came up and said come here with this lunch-box and this piece of paper, and you
would tell me what's going on!"
"What?"
"I don't know! Oy, is there anything in here I can sit on?"
Bill glanced around quickly, and noticed the light from the doorway behind him
reflecting off what appeared to be a folding chair.
"I think that's a folding chair over there." he said, nodding his head in the direction of
the light gleam.
"A folding chair? Where?"
"Over there. That folding chair."
"Oh yeah, that folding chair!"
"Yeah, THAT folding chai-
---------------
NOTICE: THE AUTHOR WOULD LIKE TO APPOLOGIZE, IT WOULD SEEM
THAT ONE OF HIS ASSOCIATE CREATORS HAS APPEARED TO HAVE
SIMPLY GONE FUNNY. Y'KNOW, JUST A LITTLE FUNNY. WE SHOULD
HAVE CAUGHT THE SIGNS EARLIER, BUT WERE NOT ALLOWED TO
TAKE ACTION AGAINST HIM BECAUSE OF PROJECT: "CORNERIAN
BOOTSTRAP." (THANK YOU, GENERAL PEPPER.) ANYHOW, THAT
SUB-CREATOR HAS BEEN SACKED. NOW, WE RETURN YOU TO THE
PRE=PLANNED FAN FICTION. THANK YOU.
--------------
So Leon, after setting the chair up next to the other, larger one in which Bill was still
strapped to, slumped down and exhaled sharply. He had the lunchbox resting on his
right leg, and in his left hand, he held the now slightly crumpled piece of paper.
Bill looked inquisitively at the paper, and sheepishly asked: "So, what's that say?"
Leon snorted, and glanced at it. "Uhm, well, this is sort of- uh what?"
"What- is it unintelligible?"
"No, no, it's very easy to make out what it says, it's just that WHAT it says is sort of
interesting. I'm kind of wondering if this is a mistake."
"Well, what does it say?"
Leon cleared his throat. He rolled his head to get a crick out of his neck, cleared his
throat again, popped his knuckles, and cleared his throat again.
"Got a frog in your throat?" Bill asked. "I think I have some cough-drops in my pocket,
I just can't reach it."
"No thanks. I'm just getting over a cold, bloody stupid Venomese High Command. Made
us meet up with our superior officer on Fortuna, cripes that was dumb."
"You should sue."
"I should."
The two nodded for a minute.
"Anyway," Bill asked again, "What does that paper say?"
"Oh right. Okay, it says: `As a matter of building dramatic tension in the electronically
composed and archived fan fiction currently under the title "Smother Mother Epsilon,"
the non-important but pivotal character "Bill Grey" must be tortured by "Leon
Powalski." Emphasis must be made on how "Bill Grey" is suffering at the hands of a
supposedly vile enemy. For further effect, he must begin to ramble incoherently and
perhaps even pray to a made up entity called "black robe spirit," or have an epiphany
that his mother was not as cracked up as she was made to be. Machine tally of a vote
held by Global Carbide and Laundromat of who should be tortured and who should be
torturing whom is as follows:' and it kind of goes on like that for three more
paragraphs."
Bill blinked, swallowed hard, and after a period of awkward silence quipped "You're
kidding."
"Nope, it actually says that."
"Well, that sucks."
"Yeah, I guess it does. Say, I wonder what the deal with the lunch-box is-"
Powalski opened up the red plastic container and looked as carefully as he could at its
contents. It wasn't too pleasant sight, mainly a lot of sharp implements designed to
slash, lacerate, poke, gouge, scratch, thrash, bash, lather, rinse, and repeat.
"I'll be darned. I think it's a torture kit."
"Really?"
"Either that, or a really nasty looking sewing kit."
"Hmm."
"Hmm."
Bill stared at Leon. Leon stared at Bill. In the distance, a car door shut.
Bill began (again, he's got a history so far of beginning sayings, doesn't he?) "So, you
have to torture me now?"
"Yeah, hey, do you bleed a lot?"
"What?"
"Well, if I'm supposed to be torturing you, I don't want you bleeding all over the place."
"I think if you're going to be doing such a thing, it's kind of a given that I'll be
bleeding, at least a little."
"Okay, well, let's just try something."
"What do you mean try something-"
Before he could finish, Leon had pulled out one of the many, many knives in the
lunchbox and simply cut off the little finger on Grey's right hand.
"Boy, now doesn't that smart!" Bill said, looking at his now deformed hand. "Hmm,
hey, see what happens with the other one."
WHOK
"Huh, nothing. Now isn't that odd, y'know, this all reminds me of something I read
once. It was popular when it came out, but GEEZ! What was it's name?" he lowered
his snout, so the tip of it was nearly touching his chest, like he always did when deep
in thought. "C'mon c'mon c'mon, what was it called?"
Leon, busily digging another tool out of the Hello Kitty lunchbox clicked his tongue
against his teeth for a moment, and offered "I think I know what you're talking about,
er, Soul Train Survivor?"
"No, not that. That one was just really long-winded, er Mamma-Jamma Ocean, I
think."
"Yeah, that sounds right. Yeah, it OH I CAN'T STAND IT! I CAN'T STAND IT
ANYMORE!" he suddenly cried, throwing the lunchbox down onto the floor. "I never
wanted to do this! I, this isn't my calling! I never wanted to do this!"
He fell over sobbing, then picked himself up. Grabbing Bill's collar, he stared into the
husky's eyes, and sobbing even louder proclaimed "I'm not a bad person! People just
keep telling me to do things for payment, and I do them! Oh, I am fortune's fool! I
never wanted to be this anti-Christ-like villain! I never even wanted to be a StarFox
character! Do you know what I wanted to be, Bill? Do you?" he continued staring into
Grey's eyes, giving his best impression of Captain Kirk with hemorrhoids.
"Uh," Bill asked, shifting his eyes around the room now even more confused than ever.
"Uh, what what did you er, want to be, uh, Leon?"
Leon, stood up, sniffing loudly. "I wanted to be- I I i i i-"
Suddenly, Andrew, Pigma, Caiman, and five or so Venomese officers, (all of them in
full dress uniform including peaked cap) ran in and grouped up behind Leon as if they
were posing for a school photograph. Leon puffed his chest out proudly, and boomed:
"I wanted to be a LUMBERJACK!"
From somewhere in the distance, a lively trumpet chorus began. The group continued.
------------------------------
Leon (speaking): Leaping, from tree to tree as they float down the mighty rivers of
Katina, or Macbeth, or some other planet like that! With my best girl at my side! We'd
Sing! Sing! SING!
(Music picks up. Leon starts singing.)
Leon: I'm a lumberjack and I'm okay!/I sleep all night and I work all day!
Pigma, Caiman, Andrew, and officers: He's a lumberjack and he's okay!/ He sleeps all
night and he works all day!
Leon: I cut down trees,/ I eat my lunch/ I go to the lava-try!/ On Wednesdays I go
shoppin',/ and have buttered scones for tea!
Chorus: He cuts down trees,/ he eats his lunch,/ he goes to the lava-try!/ On Wednesdays
he goes shoppin',/ and has buttered scones for tea!
Leon and choir: I'm (He's) a lumberjack and I'm (he's) okay!/ I (he) sleep(s) all night
and I (he) work(s) all day!
Leon: I cut down trees,/ I skip and jump,/ I like to press wild-flowers!/ I put on women's
clothing,/ and hang around in bars!
Choir: He cuts down trees,/ he skips and jumps,/ he likes to press wild- flowers!/ He puts
on women's clothing, and hangs around IN BARS?!!
(choir mills about and yell at each other trying to comprehend what they just sang for a
little bit until music picks up again, then they start singing with the chorus.)
Chorus.
Leon: I chop down trees,/ I wear high=heels,/ suspendies and a bra!/ I wish I'd been a
girlie, just like dear old Andross!
Choir: He cuts down trees,/ he wears high-heels,/ suspendies and A BRA?!!
(they mill about and yell at each other again, but not rejoining to sing even as the
music continues they finally just stomp out. The door slams behind them. Leon runs off
into the shadows, sobbing again.)
Bill: Well, that was sudden. Hey! I've got no little fingers! What the hell?
NEXT CHAPTER: WILL FREE MEN SUBMIT THEIR NAMES OR SHALL
THEY GO SHIRTLESS??!!