🚀 go-pugleaf

[Continued From Part One]

     "Now, it's time to swing to the other side of morality," mimed Mime
Man. "Could we get a big hiss for Satan T. Lucifer Jones presenting 'Worst
Villain Group'?"
     A resounding boo sounded, as the Prince of Lies mounted the stage.
Johan grasped his throat and turned green at the very noticeable lack of
food odour pads available in Hell(tm). Leering at a rather attractive band
member, Jones took the podium.
     "All right," the Crimson Crowbar intoned woodenly.  "When we ascend
the stage, we'll simply leave Nimbus here, all right?"
     "Sure," Arsenal said, patting the snoozing ubervillain on the
stomach. "Whatever you say."
     "Still no sign of the Awe-Inspiring Force," Egoiste noted, glancing about.
     "I'd say they're not coming," Psybernet said, puzzled. "And
they're about to announce, so let's get ready."
     **I am as ready as I could possibly be,** Stigmata thrummed.
     "Of course, without my august self, there couldn't be villains," Jones
boomed. "being the Prince of Evil and all. So this award should really go
to me. But, I can be magnanimous and allow a lesser luminary to get it,
provided he burns in Hell(tm) for all eternity afterward. Is that too much
to ask? I think not. Our damned fine bunch of nominees this year are: the
Serially Numbered Underlings...
     "... the Unimaginable League Amoral..."
     The Unimaginable League Amoral shifted, confidence oozing from them.
Psybernet smiled and stretched in such a way as to make her evening gown a
lethal weapon.
     "...and the Awe-Inspiring Force."
     The spotlight panned the crowd, searching for the Awe Inspiring Force.
It finally settled on Wayne and Rad, who were busy saying "like" to each
other. Startled, they waved happily to the crowd, before Wayne was bopped
by Marie and Rad pulled out from the lights by Glum and Manny.
     "The winners, and people I'm sure I'll see _really_ soon now... the
Awe-Inspiring Force!"
     There was applause, and the band played "Mars, the Bringer of War,"
but of course there was no sign of the Awe-Inspiring Force.
     But, the organizing committee was always prepared for such
eventualities. "Accepting on behalf of the Awe Inspiring Force," the PA
boomed... "The *Fraternizer!*"
     **Oh dear,** Stigmata thrummed from his seat. **This is not wise. I
can feel it.**
     The Fraternizer staggered onto the stage, one of the Awards-
bimboaudioanimatrons which had been provided by the Walt Disney
Corporation disjointedly and inhumanly walking next to him.  "Hey," he
belched. "This is like, a really great day, y'know?"
     In the command center, Biggs and Locke stretched. "All right," Locke
said. "They're updrafts. I admit it."
     "Thank you." They both began to drink coffee.
     Suddenly -- and of course, without warning -- the distortions and
hazes ripped aside, bursting into one hundred and fifty sleek attack craft
that circled the Beanstalk menacingly, firing charges into it that shook
the entire structure.
     The two guards spit their coffee out in unison, as sparks flew from
their consoles.  "Jesus," Biggs swore.  "What the Hell-"
     "We're being boarded -- they've knocked out half the defences!"
     "Go to full aler.... oh Elvis.... someone call Colleen..."
     Right before them, in a bubble and haze of distortion technology, the
mammoth, disturbingly organic hammerhead shark profile of the Awe-Inspiring
Force Alpha shaded into view, its weapons firing, its reticular sections
curving as it swept along the Beanstalk towards the Auditorium level.
     The two STOP troopers reacted initially by emptying their bladders
into their Tornado Armour.
     "We have to stop it! If they snap the skyhook -- the
environmental--"
     "How do we stop it!?"
     "Damned if I know!!!"
     Inside the Auditorium, the room suddenly shook with explosions and the
loud klaxons of a full alert shuddered. The outer halls filled with men in
cloth and plastisteel armor bursting out of Boarding pods and firing
specialized high frequency cannons that seemed to paralyze the
unmodified Tornado Armour of the reacting STOP troopers with Awe Inspiring
efficiency. They flooded into the Auditorium along the balconies, lining
the terraces as they snapped their energy cannons down towards the crowd.
     The assembled heroes began to react. "Wait!" Andy Awesome shouted. "If
we do anything, too many innocents could be killed!"
     Relativity Woman tensed, meeting the eyes of Rush and the Dash. They
knew they had the only chance to defuse--
     There was a rumble, and the back wall of the Auditorium exploded
inward into steam and gas. Forms strode through this steam. Forms that
walked with the confidence of the future masters of the world and all the
space beyond it. Forms that by their merest presence inspired fear. Forms
every six year old had nightmares about.
     Weasel. lo-brow. Puke. The Astounding Salad Shooter. Fallen
Angel. Manilow.
     And at their point, with a stride feline in its sensuous grace and
complete in its awe-inspiring contempt, walked Lady Awe-Inspiring.
     "I admit it," the Crimson Crowbar intoned woodenly, "that was a nice
entrance." The other members of the Unimaginable League Amoral nodded, but
for Nimbus, who drooled onto Psybernet's shoulder and into the fabric of
her gown.
     She approached the podium, and looked at the Fraternizer, Grunion in
his hand.
     "Hey babe," he belched. The audioanimatronic bimbo giggled.
     Lady Awe-Inspiring slowly turned, and neo-photonic light rippled from
her bracers, melting and searing the bimboid into a puddle of pathetically
giggling garbage.
     "Whoa," the Fraternizer said. "She was like, my date."
     "That surprises me as little as your breath," Lady Awe-Inspiring said
coolly, reaching out and plucking the award from the Fraternizer. She then
took two fingers, hooked them into his poorly tied cummerbund, and hurled
him into the balcony, where two of her troopers commenced beating the
living crap out of him.
     Lady Awe-Inspiring turned to the camera, tossing her head in an
Awe-Inspiring cloud of her raven hair that would eventually cause over a
thousand male viewers to join her army of doom out of the sheer memory.
"You have chosen to honor the Awe-Inspiring Force this day," she said.
"This is wise, as we had intended to fire nuclear missiles into the base of
this `Beanstalk' had you chosen otherwise. As it is, we shall let you live
and respect the `neutrality' of this day, as only we could."
     Her soldiers rose and snapped to attention, save for the two beating
the snot out of the Fraternizer and one who began trying to pick up a STOP
trooper.
     "This day, and this award, were inevitable, of course. When last we
were on this stage, we were in grief. Today, we are accepting the merest
first step of our destiny. This is an acknowledgement of the end of our
first era. The Era that conquered a world and say the rise of Andy
Awe-Inspiring. It is in his name I accept this award... and in his name I
dedicate the second era of his Force... now and forever *my* Force... to
his memory. My minions -- you may collect your statuettes."
     The Awe-Inspiring Force collected the statues from the terrified
spokes models, Fallen Angel pausing to hump the leg of one of the ushers.
     "We shall take our seats now... and await the announcement of Worst
Villain. An announcement I trust I can predict... in advance...." She
strode off the stage, into the audience, and stared several patrons out of
their chairs. The Awe-Inspiring Force took them.
     Very slowly, veeeeeeeery carefully, the audience began to applaud, and
several members of it left to change their underwear.
     Nimbus blinked and sat up. "What'd I miss?" he asked. "Did we
win?"
     Arsenal smacked him and waited for the next award.
     Satan raised an eyebrow and grinned. "She's going to be one hot
woman... in more ways than one. Now, for 'Worst Villain'."
     Lady Awe-Inspiring relaxed and sipped her wine. "Adequate," she
declared, relieving the terrified waitress to no end. "You may leave."
     "How long we gonna stay here," Weasel muttered. "I hate these damn
parties."
     "I am aware of your anti-social nature," Lady Awe-Inspiring said. "But
we must wait for the proclamation of my Lord as Worst Villain of last year.
Then we shall go and let them complete their little ceremony as they wish."
     "Lady Awe-Inspiring," lo-brow said, "Manilow took my little cheese
cracker hors d'oeuvres!"
     "I did not! I got these myself."
     "No you didn't -- you got deviled eggs! I saw you!"
     "Boys," Lady Awe-Inspiring chided with awe-inspiring sharpness. "Do
not demean us. We are the Awe-Inspiring Force. We have a certain level of
decorum that we must--"
     Fallen Angel giggled. Lady Awe-Inspiring turned... and saw the
subhuman laughing and rubbing egg salad into her hair, much to the
amusement of the Preteen Patrol and a young girl clutching a plush
Groundhog Girl. AquaRegina was doing a happy egg salad dance.
     "Weasel," Lady Awe-Inspiring said, very very quietly, "collect Angi
and get us another plate of deviled eggs *and* cheese crackers."
     "Kill the kids?"
     "Not on neutral ground. Mark them for later."
     "Right."
     "For 'Worst Villain', our nominees are the very, very nasty ARCANA,
the extremely dead Andy Awe-Inspiring..."
     The Awe-Inspiring Force and all their dispersed troops began to
applaud wildly, while Lady Awe-Inspiring smiled, perhaps a hair of awe-
inspiring wistfulness in her perfect face.
     "...and the lovely but deadly Admiral Morgan! The winner is... my own
very special guest in Chez Inferno... Andy Awe-Inspiring!"
     Lady Awe-Inspiring rose, and strode to the stage, her every
movement a ripple of sheer, powerful femininity. She ascended the stage as
though she were rising to a throne, and turned slowly to the audience,
accepting the statue and nodding slightly to their somewhat nervous
applause.
     She looked down at the award in her hand. "This represents
something," she said. "This represents... the acknowledgement of my dead
Lord as the master of the villainous world. I thank you in his name, for
that acknowledgement.
     "My Lord has been struck down at the moment of his zenith -- the
moment when he was poised to conquer a second world. This cannot be
changed. This will be remembered. In his name, we will take you all as
ours.
     "I wish to thank a few people in his name. First and foremost, I wish
to thank myself, as his aide-de-camp, which I was before I equalled and
exceeded him. Without me, he would have been great, but less so.
     "After this, I wish to thank the Awe-Inspiring Force. They were forged
to be his weapon, and though they failed him utterly, they did make the
attempt and this will be remembered. And of course, in reforging them, I
strengthen them beyond where they were.
     "Finally... I wish to thank Ramrod."
     There was a murmur through the crowd.
     "Yes... I wish to thank Ramrod very much... and Radian and Shadebeam
and Team Cynical, of course. But most of all, Ramrod.  You shot him,
Ramrod. You killed him. You fired your gun and sent him down from the
heavens through a leaded glass coffee table. With that moment, you ensured
two things. Me... and your own destruction.
     "In his name, we will find you, Ramrod. Your woman has been taken from
you before we could. Very well. We can still shall find you. We shall still
find your friends. Your teammates. Your former teammates. Your bartender.
We shall find every aspect of your life and we shall crush it, leaving the
broken husks for you to see. Leaving you with nothing but the shattered
detritus of your life... until finally there is only you and your twisted
pain... and only then shall we end that pain for you.
     "To you, Ramrod, I dedicate this award."
     Lady Awe-Inspiring closed her fist, splintering wood and causing
heated, deformed gold to seep through her hands like toothpaste. One golden
fish eye popped out and bounced on the stage.
     "Good night," Lady Awe-Inspiring said, dropping the mass of metal on
the floor, turning, and marching out. Her Awe-Inspiring Force left, her
soldiers spun and retreated.
     "Um... and now the ADVANCE experimental dancers!" the PA shouted, and
six men in suits jumped out and began to dance rather poorly, while the
network went to commercial.
     "Hmph," said General Anaesthetic, grudgingly allowing himself the
faintest of hairline smiles. "She's quite a woman."
***
     "Where's the Masked Bruce?" Memorex asked.  "He's missed the nearly
the whole thing so far."
     "Who knows," Unorthodox Lass asked. "Frankly, I'm not even sure why
he'd care."
     "Best Supergroup's coming up," Mandy said. "He'll want to--"
     "See Team Cynical win?" Spandex Babe asked. "*Again?*  No thank you. I
may go out too."
     "Now now, Spandex Babe," Trashman said lightly. "Give the Tribe of
Behn their due. They certainly have a chance to win as much as anyone else
does. They have progressed very well in their time."
     "So long as it's not ABBA, I'm happy," Unorthodox Girl said. "Who's
for Ice Cream Shakes?"
***
     Mime Man stepped over the shivering Johan, shaking his head sadly. The
strain of the concentrated evil on-stage had been far too much for him. He
walked to the microphone, and held a finger to his ear.
     "Sounds like!" roared the crowd in response.
     Mime Man nodded and began pawing at the podium.
     "Cat!" "Dog!" "Kiwi!" "Animal!" "Beast!"
     Mime Man tapped his nose, then struck an heroic pose. He moved over a
step and struck it again, repeating the gesture until he had nearly left
the stage.
     "Best Supergroup!" cried the audience, appreciatively.
     Mime Man applauded the guess and held up his envelope.
     "It... looks like the mime's tryin' to say that one of the nominees is
Team Cynical!" yelled a caterer.
     "The next one's obviously the Adjusted League Unimpeachable," said a
Switch, grinning. The crowd applauded the Australian hero's prowess at
charades.
     The Academy Kids and Mandy looked excited, even as the Adjusted League
smiled in unison, and waved to the crowd with their "it's an honor just to
be nominated" faces on.
     "And that last one," said Ben Brown. "It's obviously _Ulysses_ by
James Joyce!"
     A deafening crowd fell. Ben looked again. "Ooooor... maybe if you
squint, he's miming the Tribe of Behn. Dunno either way."
     Mime Man nodded, the ripped open the envelope. He looked at it for a
moment, before pointing to the ALU.
     The Adjusted League burst into enthusiastic applause, until
realization dawned and they froze (except for the Dash, for whom
realization was something that happened within milliseconds.)
     "We won?" Unorthodox Lass asked, stunned.
     "Us?" the Masked Bruce added.
     "I don't have a speech," Spandex Babe said, panicked.
     "Why would *any* of us have speeches," Healer asked, shocked. "We
never win!"
     "They're waiting," Kid Electron said. "Get up there!"
     "What do we say?" Unorthodox Girl asked.
     "Oh please," Kid Solipsism said, rising. "*I* have a speech
prepared. I knew we would win."
     "While he gives his, the rest of us will prepare," Trashman said.
"Come, our public seems to be waiting."
     The team filed up to the stage, meeting the Dash up there, as she had
seemed to simply appear. They looked, amazed, at the audience as they
applauded.
     "So this is what it looks like from up here," Unorthodox Lass
murmured.
     Kid Solipsism pushed his way up front, and hefted his Grunion. "Thank
you," he said. "Of course, the decision was completely mine, as none of you
exist, but that's perfectly all right, I'm used to it. At least for once I
seem to be giving myself the respect I am due." He stalked off the stage.
     "That was his prepared speech?" the Masked Bruce asked.
     "I guess so," Spandex Babe murmured.
     Dangerousgirl stepped up next, shock and happiness in her face. "Um, I
don't know what to say," she said. "I mean, we're all trying really hard,
and we... um...."  She blushed.  "Look... just... thank you. Thank you very
much."
     Spandex Babe grinned as her sister stepped off, and stepped up to the
microphone. "Well," she said, "I didn't expect this, but... well, I guess I
know what I want to say. We've had a time of it... and we're just... *I'm*
just glad that we have your respect and friendship. Thank you... thank you
all."
     The Masked Bruce was next. "The Award... for the Best
Supergroup... goes into my sack," he said in an accent, slipping his
Grunion into a sack and walking off.
     Healer stepped up to the microphone. "Not sure why I get one of
these," she said.  "Since really I'm a supporting character. But I'd like
to thank my parents, who have always given me support... the whole gang at
CalForce, who made me what I am... Trashman... well, for everything... and
most of all, I want to thank the Swede. He created me. He wrote me. And as
far as I'm concerned, he can do me anytime."
     The Swede turned crimson. Janice Hossifer brained him with her mug.
     "That's not what I meant," Healer clarified, and left the stage.
     The Dash sped up to the mike.
"Ipromisedmyselfthatifweeverwonone-oftheseawardsIwouldn'tcryandnolookatmeohy
ouhavenoideawhatthismeansto-usandespeciallytomeIwanttothankmyparentswhomadem
ebelieveandRelativity-
Womanwhosebeenmorethananinspirationshe'sbeenagoodfriendandthe-inspirationand
supportthatTrashmanhasalwaysgivenmehasbeenagreatsource-ofstrengthandfinallyI
wanttodedicatethisawardandmycareertothememory-
ofLightnin'Hopkinswhodidmorethansetthestandardforspeedstershe-epitomizedever
ythingaheroshouldbethankyou." She sped offstage.
     The Audience blinked.
     "She said thanks," Unorthodox Girl said, stepping up to the mike.
     "Ohhhh," the Audience said in eerie unison.
     "And I want to say thanks too. I want to thank Mister Wizard for his
silly hair and the way he tortures eight year olds, and Bill Nye the
Science Guy for being willing to be a Cool Geek, and Beekman's World for
being something I would never watch, and 3-2-1 Contact for taking
themselves *way* too seriously. Thanks guys, you're aces." She left.
     Trashman stepped to the microphone. "Being a hero means doing your
job," he said. "It means doing what you can, and not worrying about what
thanks you receive for it. To *receive* thanks... is a bonus. We've
received a good bonus this year, and we appreciate it. Thank you."
     He left the stage to applause he didn't really seem to hear.
     Doyle rushed onto the stage, wild eyed with crumpled shirt and tie.
"That's everything!" he shouted into the microphone that he'd grabbed.
"That's all of it! We've got NOTHING MORE TO GIVE YOU! You've blown up my
Beanstalk, torn apart the Earth, smashed the walls, gotten pie all over and
threatened our lives. GET THE BLOODY HELL(TM) OUT OF HERE NOW!"
     Peter Kent walked onto the stage as three medical staff members
bundled Doyle off. "Thank you everyone for attending," he said calmly.
     "BAR THE DOORS! THEY'LL WANT TO GET BACK IN! MAN THE BALLISTA! _RAISE
THE BARRICADES!!!_"
     "Please excuse my friend's behaviour," he continued, with a smile.
"He's overenthusiastic about tonight, and wanted to tell you in person how
much he enjoyed hosting the 1995 Golden Grunions."
     "I DID NOT! I WANT THEM ALL DEAD! DEAD, I TELL YOU! I WANT HEADS
MOUNTED IN MY OFFICE BY THURSDAY AT THE LATEST! MONDAY AND YOU GET A BONUS
IN PAY! I WANT THEM ALL DEEEEEEEAAAAAAD!"
     "And hopes that you'll have a safe ride home. From Task Force Aurora
and Frobozz Magic Productions, good night and see you next year!"
***
     "You're sure you don't want me to hang onto a few of those?" Shadebeam
asked, as she and Radian carted out their Grunions. "I mean, you are
technically dead and all...."
     "I don't know..." Radian said. "It's kind of hard to part with these,
seeing as a lot of them I won with Bill...."
     "Who you'll be going out with tonight," Shadebeam noted, "a situation
in which excess weight is hardly useful."
     "How'd you... oh, okay, here," Radian said, piling her Grunions on top
of the ones Shadebeam was already carrying. "I'll pick them up later. Don't
let mine get scratched, okay?"
     "Okay, okay!" Shadebeam said. "Have a good time."
     "Be seeing you," Radian replied, before slipping back into the
auditorium. Shadebeam hefted the Grunions in her arms and staggered towards
the elevator, wishing she had a free hand to reach for a cigarette.
***
     "What a fantastic evening!" Mighty Guy exclaimed. "All those
stars! All those awards!"
     "We didn't win any," Criticalman said, flatly.
     "I wish we could have an awards ceremony every night! Just think about
how much fun that would be!"
     "We didn't win any," Microvax said, flatly.
     "Do you think we could get Tony Randall to host the next one?"
     "We didn't win any," HotFlash said, flatly.
     "Come on, cheer up, guys!" Mighty Guy said, as they headed up the Star
Yacht's ramp. "There's more to life than these awards!  Sure, it's a great
honor to win, and sure, we tied for Best Supergroup last year but didn't
even come close to winning this year. There's always next year!"
     "Please don't try to cheer us up," Badass grumbled. "I may have to
break my hand trying to punch you."
     "I think we should just return to headquarters and get some sleep,"
Spatial K said, "and be thankful that the Beanstalk didn't get knocked over
at too many points this evening."
     "Indeed!" Mighty Guy exclaimed. "Let's go home!"
***
     "Ah, the cold, crisp spring air!" the Swede exclaimed as he stepped
out through the Beanstalk's ground level doors. "I love this time of year,
don't you, Janice?"
     "It's cold," Janice grumbled. "I want to be back in my bed. Now."
     "Sure... oh, hi, guys."
     "Hi, Swede!" eighty thousand Swedes chorused. "Hand over the Grunion
or die, please!"
     "Er... chase me!" the Swede exclaimed. He edited up a dimensional hole
to the Author's Altiverse that he scampered through, pulling Janice along.
The horde of Swedes followed, the hole closing after the last one slipped
through.
***
     Doyle surveyed the wreckage of the Beanstalk's auditorium as his
troops arrayed before him. With bloodshot and cracked eyes, he looked up at
them, scanning the crowd while considering his next words.
     "All of you," he croaked, his voice hoarse and quiet. "Have done...
very well in the face of adversity. We've gone eight months overtime, been
destroyed twice, been threatened with takeover by no fewer than two villain
groups and our catering bill is in the realm of where it would be if we'd
served dinosaur for dinner. I have one last order for the evening. I want
you all to go out and get drunk. Completely blotto. If you can still
remember your own name given three guesses, you're only halfway there. I
want everyone to show up for work with one almighty hangover tomorrow.
Charge it to TFA. That's... all."
     A ragged cheer went up from the group, which filed out, leaving the
destroyed auditorium behind. And Doyle laughed a hysterical laugh as he
prepared to adjust the Beanstalk's canned music feed for maximum volume in
the morning. Soon... he would have company in suffering. Oh yes. They too
would know pain.
***
                        THE END!
                      GO HOME NOW!
                    THE SHOW IS OVER!
                 WHAT'RE YOU WAITING FOR?
          IT'S OVER, WHAT DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?
      IF YOU DON'T GO NOW, SOMEONE WILL DOUBLE PARK YOU!
   OH ALL RIGHT, STAY IF YOU HAVE TO. YOU'RE ON CLEANUP DUTY.
 (HEH HEH HEH... ALWAYS GETS 'EM. GOOD NIGHT AND ELVIS BLESS!)
***
     This is a copyright notice, 1995/1996. Don't copy any of this, because
it belongs to a lot of people who write this kind of thing, and if you
think about it for a minute, they're probably a pretty unstable crowd. So
for your own protection, write your own material. Besides, what could you
use any of this for, really? Sheesh, some people. If you think I'm going to
list everyone to whom this material belongs, you're high. I can be reached
at cangelin@uoguelph.ca (http://www.uoguelph.ca/~cangelin) and welcome any
comments, cries, camaraderie or death threats. If you'd left when the
credits began, you'd be home by now.