AUTHOR'S NOTE: I apologize for how late/crappy this one is. I promise the next will be quicker/better. And please don't try to psychoanalyze me over this.
STRONG SADERELLA
Once upon a time, there was a boy named Strong Sad. He was a sad, shy, sensitive fellow, which meant that his muscular, arrogant brothers, Strong Bad and Strong Mad, tormented him mercilessly. Strong Sad's stepfather, Coach Z, wasn't really a bad person, but he was kind of oblivious to what was going on in his own home. And other places. Therefore, poor Strong Sad was all but a slave to his brutal brothers. As it stood, Strong Sad's only friend was a cockroach named Gavin. Actually, Gavin didn't really like Strong Sad either, but he was too polite to say anything. Not that he could say anything if he wanted to.
In all, it was a typical day in Strong Sad's life. In his left hand was a hamper full of used towels. In his right, a sack of garbage. And balanced on his head was a tray of caramel-pecan Chewities. "Here you go, Strong Bad." Strong Sad sighed as he tilted his head, just so that his reclining brother would be able to grab one of the candies without reaching too far.
Strong Bad contemptuously sniffed the candy. "What the crap is this, man?" he demanded. "I said caramel-almond, not caramel-pecan!" He tossed the candy at Strong Sad's head, causing him to lose his balance and crash to the floor, his burdens scattered all around. "I wouldn't feed this stuff to, like... you!" Strong Bad sniffed.
"I know you wouldn't." Strong Sad sighed, gathering up the mess in his arms.
This chore was interrupted by Strong Mad grabbing him less than tenderly by the throat. "ARMPITS!" the tallest of the brothers roared.
"Does it have to be now?" Strong Sad asked. His response was further tightening of bratwurst-like fingers around his windpipe. "Okay, okay. Sure." He conceded.
Strong Sad winced at the demoralizing yet familiar feeling as he dipped the paint roller into the vat of deodorant gel and liberally applied it to Strong Mad's armpits. It was times like this Strong Sad wished he had two evil sisters instead. Evil sisters could be just as bad as evil brothers, but they'd likely smell a lot nicer.
The reverie was interrupted by the sound of the front gate swinging open. "Hey loser. Go pick up the mail." Strong Bad muttered, not looking up.
"Have I ever forgotten to pick up the mail?" Strong Sad asked. "In all the years of... whoa!" A swift kick from Strong Mad's ponderous boot sent him on his way to the front door at high velocity.
Strong Sad's head ended up going clean through the mail slot and popping out the other side. Not seeming to notice, the postman simply stuffed the mail into Strong Sad's mouth. Strong Sad wearily pulled his head back into the house, the mail still held fast in his mouth.
"Hey, don't get your stupid saliva all over the mail!" Strong Bad shouted, cuffing Strong Sad across the back of the head, causing him to drop the various envelopes onto the floor. "You might drool on the countless heartfelt letters from my myriad lady admirers."
"MY LETTERS!" Strong Mad bellowed, also rummaging through the mail.
"In your dreams, man." Strong Bad countered. "The only reason you'd get a letter from some hot chick is because she spelled my name wrong. You know, drew the 'B' sideways... and without the line at the bottom... and made it more pointy than bumpy."
"Hey, guys!" Coach Z greeted, entering the room. "What's goin' down?"
"Not much, pops." Strong Bad answered. "Just lookin' through the mail."
"That's nice." Coach Z said. "Get off the floor, Strong Sad. You're sweatin' on the carpet."
"I know." Strong Sad sighed, climbing to his feet.
"Hey, what's this?" Coach Z asked, examining a rather ornate piece of paper. "I don't think it's a traffic citation, on accounta the fact that we don't own a car. And I doubt it's jury duty, because we don't have any court around..."
"Lemme see that!" Strong Bad interrupted, snatching the paper. He examined it with growing interest. "Well, well." He murmured. "How do you like about that?"
"READ IT!" Strong Mad hollered, his microscopic patience at an end.
"It says that Marzipan – the only female-type in this here town to escape my irresistible charm, may I add – is looking for a 'creative consultant' and 'choreographer' for those music videos she does." Strong Bad announced. Strong Sad rolled his eyes as silently as he dared. "Hmm... now here's a lady who appreciates the finer arts."
"So how's she gonna pick the right guy?" Coach Z asked.
"It says here she's throwing one of her gala dances tomorrow night, and that all unattached males are welcome to enter." Strong Bad reported.
"Oh. Kind of a weak plot, ain't it?" Coach Z mused.
"Hey, whatever works." Strong Bad shrugged. "Anyway, it looks like she's gonna see the dancers and see who clicks with her. Of course, nobody's a better clicker than yours truly. I'm, like, the clicker King!"
"I'M GONNA CLICK!" Strong Mad insisted.
"In your derivative dreams, Stumblo." Strong Bad laughed. "You'd get a distant second at best. Nobody beats the moves, and you know I've got the moves. I've got moves I haven't even used yet!"
"Heh. I think I'll come along with you guys just to take in the scene." Coach Z smiled. "I don't like to brag, but back in the day, I was a demon on the floor!" He attempted to strike a dramatic pose, but all that happened was that a crack emitted from his spine with the caliber of a rifle shot.
"Uh, can I come?" Strong Sad asked.
"Heh. That's cute, Strong Sad." Coach Z said, trying to straighten himself up.
"What's so cute about it?" Strong Sad asked. "I mean, it does say all unattached males, and I'm about as unattached as they come."
"I know that." Coach Z conceded. "But don'tcha have to mend Strong Bad's floor mats tomorrow night?"
"And wash the draperies?" Strong Bad added.
"PRUNE CAKE! PRUNE CAKE!" Strong Mad roared.
"Sorry, Strong Sad." Coach Z apologized. "But it looks like you've got too much on yer proverbial plate as it is. Maybe you can go out when yer older."
"Yeah." Strong Bad derided. "When it's time to move into the Old Losers' Home! C'mon, Strong Mad. Let's go prepare for our date with destiny."
Strong Bad and Strong Mad left the room, cackling in that emasculating fashion they did so well. Coach Z staggered off to goodness knows where. Strong Sad stood alone and sighed. "Oh, well. Nobody would probably pay any attention to me anyway. But it would be nice to get out of the house, even for a little while."
It was then, predictably, that Strong Bad returned to administer a solid kick to the elephantine shin. "And don't think I didn't see you outta the periphery of my vision, eye-roller."
On the night of the big... night, I guess, Strong Bad and Strong Mad wasted no time boarding the "Party Bus" as it pulled up to their place. Coach Z hopped aboard as well, and the jolly bunch rolled off to Marzipan's Party Shack Place. Strong Sad watched them leave from the window and sighed. He slowly made his way back to his own little corner in his own little chair...
POW! The wall suddenly exploded like in those Kool-Aid commercials. Strong Sad fell off his chair and watched as a cerulean figure, bathed in ochroid light, burst into the room as an unseen Greek Chorus thundered "HERE COMES THE THNIKKAMAN!"
"Oh, great." Strong Sad groaned. "Now I'll probably have to fix that wall, too."
The sunglasses-clad figure turned towards Strong Sad. "Looks like I showed up just in time!" he boomed. "You weren't gonna sing, were ya?"
"I wasn't... planning on it." Strong Sad hedged.
"Ah, shut yer yap, kid." The Thnikkaman snapped. "I could see by that whole little-corner-little-chair crap that you were plannin' on bustin' into song. Well, this ain't no musical! No singing if you want my help!"
"Help?" Strong Sad asked, still somewhat flustered at his unexpected guest's arrival. "What would you help me for?"
"I'm the Thnikkaman!" the intruder responded. "Helpin' poor slobs like you is what I do! You wanna go to that big shindig tonight, don't you?"
"Well, it would be nice." Strong Sad conceded. "But it'd never work out. Even if I had some way of getting there, somebody would recognize me, and then my brothers would pound the vital fluids out of me. As usual."
"Ah, shaddap kid." The Thnikkaman interrupted. "You don't wanna be recognized? Then go incognito, like so!"
He snapped his fingers, and suddenly Strong Sad found himself dressed in...
"An ice cream suit?" Strong Sad asked. "Would it be too much to ask for something from this century?"
"Ooh, insulting the guy who does your wardrobe. Not very smart, kid." The Thnikkaman chided. He slapped a pair of sunglasses on Strong Sad's face. "There. With a pair of authentic Thnikkashades, nobody will recognize that sorry kisser of yours. Now, what's next?"
"Uh, transportation, I guess." Strong Sad declared.
"Right." The Thnikkaman mused. "Now, what can we... aha!" He announced as he spotted Gavin skittering around on the floor. Another snap of the fingers and Gavin was transformed into a convertible car.
"Wow, nice." Strong Sad said. "I guess I can drive it out through that hole you made in the wall."
"That's the spirit, kid!" The Thnikkaman announced. "Now go out there and have a good time, 'cause I don't plan on showing up here ever again!"
"Uh... I hate to push my luck, but... there's one more thing." Strong Sad piped up. "I... can't dance. At all."
"What are you talkin' about?" The Thnikkaman demanded. "Everybody can dance!"
"Well..." Strong Sad admitted. "I guess I can do the Electric Slide..." he reluctantly demonstrated a few steps.
"Ow! Ow! Geez!" The Thnikkaman yelled, shielding his eyes. "Cut that out! You're killin' me!"
"I knew this would be a problem." Strong Sad sighed.
"Hey, don't lose faith in the Thnikkaman." You-know-who scolded. "I've seen worse. Okay, not worse, but pretty bad. Now, you see those shoes you have on?"
"Yeah?" Strong Sad asked, looking down at his ridiculously large platform shoes.
"Those are Thnikkashoes, my friend." The T-man explained. "All they need to do is hear the music, and they'll move on their own!"
"I can see this backfiring miserably." Strong Sad replied, climbing into the car. "But I guess it's just for one night."
"That's it, kid." The guy whose name I'm getting tired of typing said. "Now go out there and have a good time. Might as well. But be back here by midnight. Don't ask why."
"Sure, sure." Strong Sad sighed as he drove off. "Wow, I never knew I know how to drive..."
"Ah, another good deed of the day." The guy who looks like Bubs announced, standing alone in the kitchen he had demolished. "Sometimes I wonder why I bother..." His reverie was interrupted by his wristwatch ringing to the tune of his theme song. "Oops! It's hot tub hour! Here I come, ladies!" he shouted, rushing off, even as the Greek Chorus trilled "THERE WENT THE THNIKKAMAN!"
Marzipan's Party Shack Place was jumping. Not literally, mind you, as that would probably kill everybody inside, but it was indeed jumping in a totally figurative way. There was music and flashing lights and bass and whatnot. Strong Bad and Strong Mad were standing around waiting their turn to show their stuff.
"Oh, man." Strong Bad sniffed. "What a bunch of two-steppers! I'm gonna walk all over them!"
"SHAKE THE GROOVE THANG!" Strong Mad roared.
"Yeah, right, man." Strong Bad countered. "You probably couldn't even identify your groove thing with a flowchart, let alone shake it properly. You're almost as lost as these hoofers." He added, gesturing to the individual who was currently auditioning.
That proved to be a hopelessly outclassed King of Town, who was now huffing and puffing as Marzipan looked on. "Not bad for a man my age, eh?" He wheezed. "My break-dancing days are probably over, but there's always the Funky Chicken!"
Marzipan finished her evaluation. "Well... that was very good, except for the fact that it... wasn't very good. At all. But thank you for coming!"
"Of course, of course." The King dithered as he walked away. "I'm just reminding people that I'm still alive..."
Even as Strong Bad and Strong Mad sneered at the King's misfortune, Marzipan's eager assistant Homestar ran up to them. "Hey guys! How are you doing?" he asked.
"Oh, I was having a great time." Strong Bad grumbled. "Right up until about three seconds ago."
"That's good." Homestar said, writing something down. "Have you twied your luck with Marzipan yet?"
"Not yet." Strong Bad grinned. "I'm letting the rest of the chumps go first so I'll look even more incredibly awesome by comparison. And it's not luck. It's natural aptitude."
"Umm... wight." Homestar replied, a little confused. "But anyway, there's an opening now if you want to go."
"Get out your drool cups, ladies!" Strong Bad announced. "Strong Bad is in the... hey!" he was interrupted by Strong Mad shoving him to the ground and racing off to demonstrate his own natural aptitude. "Hey, come back here, you buttinski!" Strong Bad shouted.
Marzipan looked up and saw Strong Mad staring down and her, a dumb grin on his broad face. "My, you're a big one, aren't you?" she asked. "Now, what can you do?"
"BAAAAAGGGGH!" Strong Mad shouted and jumped in the air. Unfortunately, when he came down the floor made no effort to stop him, and he continued on into the basement. Marzipan was a bit bemused but not especially upset.
"Homestar!" she called to her assistant. Homestar came running up, and listened intently as she whispered something in his ear. When Strong Mad emerged from the basement, surly and somewhat dusty, he was presented with a piece of paper. Unfortunately, of course, it wasn't a contract, but a bill for repairing the floor. Strong Mad angrily stuffed the bill into his clothes and stormed back to where Strong Bad was now having a merry laugh at his brother's expense.
"Smooth one, man." Strong Bad sneered. "Real smooth moves. You really brought the house down."
"SHUT UP!" Strong Mad growled.
"Just to cement my victory, I'm pullin' out the big guns!" Strong Bad announced. "Cha-chink!" he shouted, thrusting his paunch forward. "No known woman can resist... the pelvic thrust!"
Strong Bad pelvic-thrusted his way towards Marzipan. Strong Mad watched with cross jealously at first, but his expression quickly changed to open-mouth shock. He then winced and covered his eyes. Finally Strong Bad hobbled back, doubled over at the waist. "You're gonna pay for that pelvis, lady!" Strong Bad shouted.
Marzipan sighed and leaned back in her chair. "Twoubles, Marzipan?"
"That's putting it mildly, Homestar." Marzipan replied. "What a bunch of hacks! The only person I've talked to tonight with any rhythm was that Poopsmith, and he just wanted to know where the men's room was!"
"Don't let it get you down, Marzipan." Homestar encouraged. "Maybe in the next two seconds the door will open and a mystewious stwanger will enter and change your life."
Just then the door opened and Strong Sad – bedecked in shades and ice cream suit – entered, as the populace looked on in curiosity.
"Gweat Gwacie!" Homestar exclaimed. "How do I do it?"
"Ngggh. Who the crap is that?" Strong Bad asked, trying to straighten himself up.
"Uhhhh...." Strong Mad slurred. He had thought that the stranger rather resembled Strong Sad, but he figured that if nobody had already pointed it out, he must have been mistaken.
"Wow! That guy's sure got style, don't he?" Coach Z asked, joining the scene.
"Ah, what does it matter?" Strong Bad scoffed. "If Marzipan turned me down, she'll toss that guy out on his ear. If he has ears."
Marzipan had noticed the newcomer as well. "Homestar." She whispered.
"Yeah?" Homestar asked.
"I want you to escort that person to my private room. He's the last chance I have, and I don't want any distractions." Marzipan ordered.
"Yes sir!" Homestar boomed. He ran up to the new arrival. "Hi there. Uh, Marzipan wants to see you... uh, in pwivate."
"Who, me?" Strong Sad stammered. "Oh, no. I'm just here to..."
"Dude, you don't keep Marzipan waiting." Homestar interrupted. "You just don't."
"Um, okay." Strong Sad sighed. He silently followed Homestar to the private room, silently cursing the Thnikkaman for giving him such flashy clothes. If he had just shown up in his black hoodie, none of this would have happened. He tremulously turned the doorknob and walked in, closing the door behind him. There was no turning back.
"Hi there." Strong Sad dared to open his eyes. Marzipan seemed nice enough, anyway.
"Um, h-hi." He replied. He wasn't much of a social person.
"Now, are you ready to show me some rhythm?" Marzipan asked.
Strong Sad felt like spilling the whole truth then and there, but then he remembered his Thnikkashoes. "Um, sure." He finally responded. He closed his eyes behind his sunglasses, and let the rhythm take him.
Unfortunately, the rhythm took him nowhere. He didn't move. Painfully conscious of Marzipan's confused stare, he removed one of his shoes and examined it. A flashing display on the heel clearly said that the shoes were overdue for their 2000-step checkup. Strong Sad tossed the shoe to the floor in resignation.
"What's wrong?" Marzipan asked.
"Well... the truth is, I'm not much of a dancer." Strong Sad finally admitted.
"Really?" Marzipan asked, sounding curious.
"Yeah." Strong Sad sighed. "What I do best is... you know, sit in my room and think about stuff."
"You do?" Marzipan asked.
"Yeah." Strong Sad admitted. "I know it's..."
"That's what I do all the time, too!" Marzipan announced.
"You do?" Strong Sad asked, incredulously.
"I do." Marzipan replied. "I like to think about the nature of life, and mortality, and... the intestinal tracks of earthworms."
"No kidding!" Strong Sad exclaimed. "So do I!"
They talked for the better part of the night, sharing the stuff that they thought about that nobody else seemed to appreciate. It was incredibly therapeutic for Strong Sad, and Marzipan seemed to genuinely appreciate it as well.
"You know," Marzipan finally said. "I don't really need a choreographer or anything like that. What I need is a creative mind, and I think I've found it."
"Really?" Strong Sad asked. "You mean me?"
"Of course I mean you!" Marzipan replied. "I'd love to hear more from you."
"Wow." Strong Sad whispered.
"Who are you?" Marzipan asked, reaching for the sunglasses.
"Well, uh... I..." Strong Sad stammered, backing up instinctively. It was then that the clock began to chime. Strong Sad looked up at the clock and saw various carvings of animals on it. It was a curious thing. At the moment, a heart-shaped section of a lion carving was glowing, as well as the wings of a bat carving. What symbolism could one possibly get from a...
The penny dropped. Because it's midnight.
"Uh... I've gotta go. Now." Strong Sad declared.
"No! You don't have to..." Marzipan shouted, but already she was addressing an empty room.
Everything was a blur as Strong Sad raced out of the building and into the parking lot. As he hopped into the car, he heard somebody shouting at him.
"Uh, just a second!" Homestar shouted as Strong Sad activated the ignition. "Marzipan asked me to tell you..." suddenly Strong Sad sped off, leaving Homestar coughing in a cloud of exhaust. "Oh, man." He wheezed. "Smoking is bad for you after all."
The city was a blur as Strong Sad sped through the empty streets. Finally the clock struck twelve, and Strong Sad suddenly found himself sitting on the street, his flashy clothes gone, his car but a memory.
"Uh-oh. Gavin!" Strong Sad exclaimed, standing up and seeing a flat little cockroach lying beneath him. Gavin shakily got to his feet and tottered off, squeaking some rude slurs in cockroach tongue at him as he left. "Well, there goes my only unconditional friendship." Strong Sad sighed as he walked off towards home.
The next morning Marzipan awoke from a fitful slumber. Considering the circumstances, she was amazed that she was able to sleep at all, so rattled she was with questions from the night before. Who was that mysterious guest? Why did he run off in such a hurry? Why didn't she get him to sign the contract right away? Even as she berated herself, she heard a strange, thumping bass resonating from downstairs. She headed for the stairs to investigate.
There, in the middle of the main hall, was Homestar. Music was still blasting on the sound system, and Homestar was dancing all by himself, singing along loudly with the music.
"Keep it up! To the force, don't stop! Don't stop 'til you get enough!" Homestar sang as he grooved to no apparent rhythm, adding the occasional "ee-hee" and "woo!" for good measure.
"Homestar!" Marzipan called from the balcony.
Homestar looked up without pausing his dance in the slightest. "Hey there, Marzipan!" he grinned. "Cha'mon!"
"Homestar..." Marzipan interrupted.
"Cha'mon!" Homestar screeched again, twirling around on one foot.
"Homestar, what are you doing?" Marzipan shouted.
"Hey, look at me!" Homestar enthused as he began to walk backwards. "I'm walkin' on the moon!"
The dance ended abruptly when Marzipan unceremoniously switched off the music. "Homestar, what do you think you're doing?" she repeated.
"Aw, c'mon Marzipan." Homestar chided. "Don't be an old stick-in-the-gwass. The party is young and so am I!"
"Homestar, the party was over 8 hours ago." Marzipan explained.
"Ohhhh." Homestar said, looking around. "I thought it was kinda roomy in here."
"How can you be dancing at a time like this?" Marzipan demanded. "We have work to do."
"Yes sir, yes ma'am!" Homestar stated officiously, pulling out a notepad and pencil. "What can I swing you for?"
"First of all, never call me 'sir' again." Marzipan fumed.
"Wight, wight. Ixnay on the sirsay." Homestar muttered, his pencil scratching against the pad rapidly. "I can fit that in on Tuesday if you'd like."
"And more importantly, we need to find that person who ran off last night." Marzipan explained. "The only evidence we have is this shoe he left behind." She continued, holding up the recovered platform shoe.
"Well, that's easy." Homestar smiled, still writing. "We'll just get the addwess fwom the lining of the shoe."
"Homestar, just because you do that doesn't mean everybody else does." Marzipan explained.
"Well, excuse me!" Homestar protested. "Sometimes I forget where I live, okay?"
"Anyway, these shoes are very unusual in both size and shape." Marzipan continued. "I bet only one person would fit these shoes."
"Gweat!" Homestar said. "Then all we have to do is get some flunky to go door-to-door until he finds the guy who fits them."
"Right." Marzipan replied.
"Now, who could we pencil in to do that?" Homestar mused.
"Considering that I have exactly one flunky, take a wild guess." Marzipan challenged.
"Um, okay. Don't tell me." Homestar murmured. "Uhh... what about... no, wait. He's Polish. Uh... oh! Maybe it's a twick question. It's not me, is it?"
"Correct." Marzipan replied.
"Sure. Done and done." Homestar affirmed, putting the last marks on the paper.
"Did you write all that down?" Marzipan asked.
"What? This?" Homestar asked. "No, this is a cwossword puzzle. What's an eight-letter word that means 'stupid mowon'?"
"Well, geez!" Homestar protested from the back seat of Marzipan's limousine, the shoe resting on his lap. "She coulda just said she didn't know!" Pom Pom, the chauffeur, rolled his eyes and bubbled something unflattering under his breath.
Meanwhile, Strong Sad was daydreaming in his room. He would have assumed that his experience was just a dream, but the shoe on his lap indicated otherwise. It wasn't much of a memento, but it was all Strong Sad had to remind him of the night he had slipped out and lived it up, just for once. He even had made successful communication with a female!
His door opening shook him from his memories. Strong Sad quickly shoved the shoe under his bed. "Hey, Strong Sad!" Coach Z called, poking his head in the door. "Uh, ya slept in, and yer brothers ain't too happy about it. I think ya better get a start on their breakfast before there's a rumble."
"Oh, sure." Strong Sad said. At any rate, he had learned that they still had no idea of his activities of the night previous.
"Uh, and after that, maybe you could fix that hole in the kitchen wall and clean up those tire tracks." Coach Z added. "Crazy joyridin' kids..." he muttered as he left the room.
Once breakfast had been served, Strong Sad tried to keep a low profile as the rest of his family discussed the coup of the previous night. "And nobody knows who that guy was." Coach Z explained. "He just took off without givin' a name or anything. Marzipan's fit ta be tied over all this."
"Eh, she deserves it if you're askin' me." Strong Bad grumbled. "She's gonna have to beg if she wants another shot at me." Strong Mad chuckled and elbowed his brother in the side. "Laugh it up, meatbag." Strong Bad growled. "At least I didn't break the freakin' floor."
"So anyway, she figured out how to find that guy." Coach Z continued.
"How's that?" Strong Bad asked.
"Ah, he left one o' his kicks behind." Coach Z declared, absently chewing his breakfast. "Marzy's got one of her guys goin' door ta door with that thing trying to figure out whose it is."
SMASH! All heads turned to see that Strong Sad had dropped a pitcher of water. "Sorry." He muttered. "Muscle spasm."
All heads turned back to the table. "So there's gonna be somebody here with that shoe?" Strong Bad asked, his interest aroused.
"Yeah, that's it." Coach Z affirmed. "'Course, I know it ain't either of you guys, but they need ta confaerm it, ya know."
"Hmm." Strong Bad mused to himself. "All I need to do is fit that shoe, and I'm livin' on easy street!" He glanced over and saw Strong Mad meticulously measuring his own foot with a ruler. "Hey, no fair, man!" Strong Bad shouted. "I thought of it first!" The two brothers began wrestling over the ruler, Coach Z deciding to vacate the area and Strong Sad just pleased that he wasn't on the receiving end of the pummelings for once.
This cozy fraternal tableau was intruded by knocking on the door. "GET THE DOOR!" Strong Mad roared to Strong Sad, as Strong Bad struggled to get out of a Full Nelson. Strong Sad cautiously made his way to door, a whirlwind of conflicting thoughts in his head. The whirlwind sputtered to a halt when he opened the door and found himself face-to-face with Homestar.
Homestar squinted at Strong Sad for the longest time. "Uh, do I know you?" he finally asked.
"I don't... think you do." Strong Sad mumbled, his head down.
"Mrs. Langkowski's geometwy class?" Homestar asked.
"What?" Strong Sad asked.
"Weren't you in that class?" Homestar asked. "I had to sit up fwont because I had 'compwehension difficulties'. Whatever that means."
"Uh, no, I wasn't." Strong Sad replied.
"Martinique?" Homestar asked.
"I've never been to Martinique!" Strong Sad protested.
"You haven't?" Homestar asked. "Um, good. I mean... that's too bad."
"Are you the person Marzipan sent over?" Strong Sad asked, guarding his words.
"Uh, maybe." Homestar pondered. "Just a sec... Hey Pom Pom!" he yelled to the limo. "I forgot again! Am I..."
Pom Pom, who had obviously been through this before, bubbled something in the affirmative.
"Yep!" Homestar announced. "I gotta get all the guys in this house to twy this shoe on. I weally hope it's somebody fwom this house, because this is the last house on my list."
"Uh, sure. Come on in." Strong Sad sighed. Showtime.
Strong Mad and Strong Bad literally were climbing over each other to get to Homestar first. "Oh, thanks man!" Strong Bad shouted. "You found my shoe!"
"MY SHOE!" Strong Mad yelled.
"One at a time, gentlemen, one at a time." Homestar sniffed. "This fweakin' shoe's been on hundweds of feet this morning, and I've got to be there evewy time. Lucky me. Now, who's first?"
Strong Bad likely would have said that he was, but the fact that he was thrown headfirst into the wall rather impeded his speech. "Okay, big guy." Homestar said. "Let's slip this on you."
Strong Mad bent over and removed his boot, revealing...
NOTE: OUT OF RESPECT FOR THE SENSITIVITY AND WEAKNESS OF HEART OF SOME OF OUR READERS, THE DESCRIPTION OF THE ENSUING FOOT HAS BEEN OMITTED.
"Holy cwap!" Homestar exclaimed. "Let's get this shoe on in a hurry. It's hurting my eyes just to look at that."
Strong Mad struggled as hard as he could, but he could only fit half of his massive foot into the shoe, no matter which way he put it on. His shouted commands that the shoe stay on his foot were rather rudely ignored by the impertinent footwear.
"Aw, too bad." Homestar said. "Once that other guy gets up fwom his nap, we'll twy him."
"I'm up! I'm up already!" Strong Bad slurred, pulling himself from the skull-shaped dent in the wall. "Let's get this show on the road!"
"Uh, I think you should put it on your foot instead." Homestar suggested.
"I said show, not shoe!" Strong Bad explained. "Ah, never mind. Just give me that shoe."
"Aren't you gonna take your boot off first?" Homestar asked.
"What boot?" Strong Bad asked. "This is my foot!"
"Oh! Call me observant." Homestar chided himself.
Unlike Strong Mad, Strong Bad was able to slip his foot into the shoe with ease. A little too much ease if you ask me; the shoe went all the way up to his hip. "Ah, a perfect fit." Strong Bad declared. "It's just like I own this shoe. Uh... which I do, of course."
"Uh, I'm no expert, but I don't think that's how it works." Homestar pondered. Strong Bad fumed. He knew that there was no way he could pull this off anyway. The only person who would fit these shoes would have to have feet like an elephant or something...
Strong Bad was hit with sudden realization. He glanced to the kitchen, where Strong Sad was trying to plaster the wall. His eyes narrowed bitterly. He had thought that mysterious stranger looked kinda... loserly...
"Hey, guys! What's shakin'?" Coach Z's voice rang out as he joined the scene.
"Oh, hi, Mr. Z." Homestar said. "I was just gettin' these guys to try this shoe on, but I don't think it fits either of them."
"It's an acquired fit!" Strong Bad protested.
"Heh. I didn't think you could shoehorn either of those guys into that thing." Coach Z chuckled. "Peculiarly-shaped dogs seem ta run in the family."
"Which weminds me." Homestar remarked. "Got anymore single guys in here to twy this shoe on?"
"Well..." Coach Z said. "There is Strong Sad, who's in the kitchen cleaning up after some punks did some donuts in our kitchen last night. Ya know, kids today don't have the proper respect. I mean, I drove through a few kitchens in my day, but I at least left a note behind to apologize, ya know..."
"Strong Sad?" Strong Bad interrupted, a little desperate. "Oh, please! Unless, like, some magician showed up and gave him a disguise, there is no way he coulda been there last night!"
"Sowwy, Stwong Bad." Homestar replied. "Orders are orders, you know."
"Fair 'nuff." Coach Z said. "Hey Strong Sad! Some guy here wants you should try this shoe on!"
"Uh... I guess so." Strong Sad said, trying not to show his excitement. Could he really have a happy ending after all? He didn't even notice Strong Bad's eyes burning with jealousy.
"Okay, Stwong Bad." Homestar said. "Toss me that shoe."
Strong Bad's eyes gleamed when he saw that Homestar was standing in front of the fireplace. "Sure thing!" he sneered. "Go long!" He heaved the shoe with all his might. All watched as it arced towards the roaring fire.
"I got it! I'm open!" Homestar shouted. Unsurprisingly, he tripped, and the shoe flew into the fire and burned to ash in seconds.
"Somehow I figured that would happen." Strong Sad sighed to himself.
"Oh, cwap!" Homestar exclaimed. "Marzipan's gonna kill me! I'll be demoted to lip gloss for this!"
"Ya gotta work on that arm, Strong Bad." Coach Z scolded. "It's like I always say. If ya don't keep yer arm straight and yer eye on the prize, you end up burnin' your shoe!"
"What'll I do?" Homestar fretted. "What'll I do?"
"Looks like it's a sad day for us all." Strong Bad gloated. "Right, Strong Sad?"
Strong Sad would be inclined to agree, but suddenly he remembered something. He darted – well, lumbered – into his room and returned with something behind his back. "Don't get too worried about it." He told Homestar.
"Don't worry?" Homestar asked. "When Marzipan finds out about this, she'll be mad! And when she's mad, she gets out the widing cwop..."
"Well, I don't think she'll notice." Strong Sad replied. "You see, I have the other shoe."
"Oh, that's nice." Homestar dismissed. "But that won't weally... you what?"
"YOU WHAT?" Strong Bad and Strong Mad chorused.
"Well, how do ya like that!" Coach Z beamed.
Strong Sad slipped the shoe on. "See? It even fits too."
"Well!" Homestar exclaimed. "It's always the guy you least expect. C'mon, fellah. Marzipan's been wanting to talk to you."
"Sure." Strong Sad said, as they headed for the door. "Bye, you guys. I'll mention you in the liner notes or something." The door slammed shut.
"Well, ain't that nice?" Coach Z asked a simmering Strong Bad and a slack-jawed Strong Mad. "I always knew one o' you guys would make it big someday. Yes, indeed." He said as he walked away.
For a moment, Strong Bad was too furious to move. Finally he regained his presence of mind and kicked Strong Mad in the shin, shaking him from his own stupor. "You big stumblefoot! This is all your fault!"
"BAAAAGGGHH!" Strong Mad yelled, and the wrestling match between them from earlier continued anew, going into Smackdown mode.
Strong Sad and Marzipan became partners, and collaborated on her next two CDs, Why Do Birds Have To Die and The Treachery of Leaves. Unfortunately, creative differences tore them apart and they went their separate ways. Marzipan found herself at the centre of controversy when she tore up a picture of Colonel Sanders on national TV. Strong Sad was last seen collaborating with Björk. Which definitely means...
THE END
Next Installment:
The Cheat Prince