We now return you to your IRREGULARLY scheduled programming!
Just call me Lord of the Onion Rings!
They get to the planet, and all hell breaks loose.
Oh great. Now I have to track down everything from Hell. At least it's all on one planet... for now.
I'll get those bloody LICC'ers. Hmmm... maybe that fisherman that I had in the lake of fire would be interested, he seemed rather angry!
Jadlad proclaims...
I'm bored out here in the middle of nowhere. That's it. I'm transfering to the new Skilark Kooky Incredible Pizza Pies Yesteryear Savers* division of LICC!
He files all the paperwork.
PIZZA POWER!!
He dimesion hops away.
*S.K.I.P.P.Y.S.
Buick Skylark?
Which way to Nome?
Onward King! Mush!
Alex, who is in the holodeck just off the bridge: Commander, you might like to see this. The hovergenerators have picked up something interesting.
The viewscreen flickers and changes, showing a building. Entering the building is a number of strange looking figures.
Recognize them, Commander? Charlie the narcoleptic platypus, Larry the Caffiated Starfish... I think Calvin is recruting other kids show hosts and figures. He even seems to have recruited figures from other dimensions...
Let's take over the... zzzzzzzzzzz SNORE zzzzzzz
That can't be good.
BOOM!
The Spidermobile is under attack, having gotten too close to Calvin's planet, where it was detected.
Master, the Spidermobile is close to our planet!
I've never seen purple underwear before, Calvin.
See Donny Osmond
(Suddenly on the bridge of the Spidermobile a hole in reality appears. A rip in the very fabric of spacetime. Around its jagged edges, the colour slowly drains from the world until it dissolves into the malevolent silver sea of Interspace.
A redshirt walks up to the rift, reaches out and touches it in wonder a la Daniel Jackson in Stargate. Then he looks down in horror as the terrible Hunger of the lightless realm tears off first the sleeve of his red shirt, then strips the flesh from his bones and finally pulls him in to be feasted upon by the foul Interspace ghouls.
Seconds later, a streak of blue-gold light streaks up into the middle of the silvery rift, banishing the mercuric sea. The portal collapses into a flash of light, which reveals-
A figure stands there. He appears human, but is surrounded by a glowing nimbus of the same blue-gold fire. In one hand he holds a great sword made of glowing energy, in the other a great key. When he moves his hands they leave faint trails of white fire behind
Mysterious figure: Howdy doody everyone! Kirinre of Kirinrenor here, just passing through on my way to save all of Creation (Sighs in a put-upon fashion again. But I thought your old universe could do with a little livening up else it goes the way of the one they call 'Enterprise', and so...
(The Kirinre waves his hand vaguely and a second silver rift explodes into being, then rapidly collapses to leave a more normal-looking human. This newcomer is tall, rather lanky, with short brown hair, a flat face and a toothy grin. He is bedecked from head to foot in camouflage gear filled with voluminous and bulging pockets. Sticking out of a back pocket is a twenty-first century palmtop computer. The figure is holding his hand to his mouth as though about to drink a cup of tea which has just vanished - which is in fact what has happened).
Newcomer: Wha the- (Sees Kirinre) Oh, it's you again. What's up now? Radioactive terrorists planning to assassinate the Prime Minister?
Kirinre: May I present Captain Rouse, the one whom in his world they call The Greatest Hero Of Them All. He is also the most famous British spy of all time.
Rouse: That's not exactly an advantage in my line of work...
Kirinre: Quiet, Captain. I'm detaching you here to lend some assistance to the LICC.
Rouse: The LICC? Aren't they the ones out of that old comic book? "The Leak of Incontinent Caustic Champagnes", or something?
Kirinre: Something like that. Very well, Captain, I'm leaving you to it.
Rouse: Though I suppose you're going to pop up now and again and deposit some of my old allies and villains here?
Kirinre: Why, Captain, what is a Conqueror of Kirinrenor to do?
Rouse: Fair enough, I suppose.
Kirinre (turns back to the LICC crew): Good luck. (Under his breath) You'll need it.
(Kirinre waves his arms again - his trousers fall down but owing to both hands beind occupied he decides to pretend he hasn't noticed - and vanishes in a spiral of blue-gold fire.
Rouse (looking around nervously): Um...they do have Solitaire in the future, don't they?
Larry the Caffiated Starfish
What's "Caffiated" mean?
I'm not sure I want to know. :-\
Welcome, Captain Rouse, you picked a perfect time to get here. Pull up a station!
the ship rocks with enemy fire
Thankyou kindly Commandant.
(Rouse walks up to a nearby console and runs his finger along the surface, checking it for dust. In doing so he manages to hit a combination of buttons that, on the other side of the bridge, causes a console to explode and brutally kill a redshirt. Rouse then walks up to the redshirt and tsks).
Rouse: Redshirts eh? Where I come from they wear orange boiler suits and silver miner's helmets.
(Turns back to the bridge).
Rouse: Rest assured that I will assist the LICC in every way possible. I don't have any superpowers - well, beyond my legendary skill with da Ladies...
(Rouse gives the female crew members a leer that would shame Mirror Kirk)
Rouse: ...and my speedreading skills. But in the pockets of my uniform I have all the technology that the greatest minds of MFI, Her Majesty's Pizza Delivery Service (Nods respectfully at Jadlad) can devise! I just wish my psychic sidekick Percival Biggles were here...still, given that Kirinre, I wouldn't put it past him...
Alex looks down at his notes, then hits his computer.
Darn it! I think it meant to say "Caffinated!" That particular hovergenerator was never good at spelling...
Meanwhile, on the bridge...
Jackson: Sir, we seem to be getting attacked by ships that look like giant whales...
(Suddenly a terrific crash is heard and alarms flash. A goldshirted ensign manages to say:)
"Hull breach on deck 14!"
(Captain Rouse turns to the nearest officer and asks:)
Rouse: Permission to deal with it, sir?
(Without waiting for a reply he dashes out of the bridge into a turbolift).
Turbolift voice: Please state your destination.
Rouse: Deck 14, and step on it!
(Rouse is flung up against the ceiling as the turbolift descends at an appreciable fraction of the speed of light. It then abruptly comes to a halt with the result that Rouse is plastered against the floor).
Turbolift voice: Destination reached.
Rouse (peeling himself off the floor): Hmmph, you don't say.
(Rouse finds a nearby airlock and fires himself out into space).
(Rouse manages to grab the edge of the airlock as he is sucked blown out into space).
Rouse (a bit breathlessly): Hmmph, not much air out here.
(He reaches into one of his voluminous pockets and pulls out a plastic bottle labelled 'Finest Scotch Air', then sucks on it for a few seconds)
Rouse: Ah, that's better.
(He looks around at the endless stars and the approaching enemy ships)
Rouse (Scottish accent): Dar be whales here, Cap'n!
(Pulls himself together. Takes a small fridge out of another pocket, pulls all the fridge magnets off (with some difficulty) and SuperglueTMs them to his shoes. He then replaces the fridge in his pocket and slowly clanks his way across the outer hull until he reaches the hull breach, which is a gash in the side of the Spidermobile and is spewing air, debris and redshirts).
Rouse: Hmm, looks like the emergency bulkheads have failed. Not to worry!
(He pulls from another pocket a 25 pack of Wrigley's Spearmint Chewing Gum, which he forces into his mouth all at once and chews energetically for a minute or two).
Rouse (indistinctly): 'Nd shey shay shis shtuff ish shupposhed to be good for your teesh...
(He spits out the big gobbet of gum and carefully spreads it over the hull breach, immediately stopping the flow of redshirts).
Rouse: That ought to do it! This stuff's virtually indestructible.
(Rouse tries to pull away only to find that his hands are irretrievably stuck to the gum).
Rouse: Ah.
What's wrong with a refreshing can of Perri-Air Salt-Free Air? Bottled in Druidia!
Shot of a knife cutting food
It DICES!
Another shot of a knife cutting food
It SLICES!
A shot of a mohel
It even CIRCUMCISES!
Back to cutting food
IT CUTS THREE WAYS!!!!
Suddenly the screen goes wavy and cuts to a network functionary
Hello, this is K-NIT. In conjunction with FOX and the NFL, we have decided that this commercial is too offensive to continue. We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.
Screen goes wavy and returns to LICC
Unfortunately, all the characters on LICC are stark naked, with large black boxes covering their naughty bits.
"Now 'ere, what's going on? A nosy parker, sniffing around my lovely shiny home? Go on, arf wif' ya!"
grabs Rouse and pitches him into an airlock
"Grumble grumble, interupt me watchin' the Vikings on the subspace antenna, will ye?"
Rouse: Ouch!
(Rubbing his bruised posterior, Rouse wanders down to the shuttlebay and looks impressedly at the numerous fighters and shuttles on display there).
Rouse: Very nice. Still, I think I prefer my own mode of transport.
Passing female Goldshirt: You have a fighter?
Rouse (horribly leering): In a manner of speaking.
(Rouse pulls out a ginormous sheet of paper and proceeds to rapidly fold it in a fashion so complex that it makes a Mobius strip look like a postcard).
Rouse: I have a black belt in origami, you know...and there we have it!
(Before Rouse stands a huge paper aeroplane with a large half-goldfish bowl in the middle serving as a cockpit. Rouse pulls a giant paperclip from one of his pockets and carefully slides it onto the back fold; the aeroplane balances).
Rouse: My trusty steed, the Publisher. She's served me well in my duties as Special Agent 0898 for MFI in the past. Now I will take her out into the great dark beyond!
Goldshirt: But there's no air in space!
Rouse: So? There's no space in air!
(Rouse pulls out a huge hairdryer and, seated atop the Publisher, blows himself out of the shuttlebay doors and into space again).
Rouse: My God, it's full of stars!
A passing Malevolent Alien Noncorporeal Energy Being (MANEB): Of course it is you sandplayer, it's SPACE!
Unfortunately, Rouse was unable to prevent the Spidermobile from crashing into Calvin's planet. Fortunately, Calvin's planet was made of half rubber, half not. Unfortunately, this meant the Spidermobile crashed several times, before landing on a spot that wasn't. Fortunately, no one was injured. Unfortunately, several were killed. Fortunately, they were all redshirts who at that very day had filled out their life insurance policies. Unfortunately, this is the end of this sketch.
There goes all our plans. Everyone, spread out and find Calvin!
Rouse (watching the Spidermobile crash): Oh thingnation!
(Then he looks around to see the various bizarre enemies closing on him)
Rouse: Crumbs!
(A burst of energy tears the wingtip from the Publisher in an explosion of confetti)
Rouse: Crikey!
(Rouse quickly adds a paperclip to that side to stop the Publisher listing, when a second burst of energy tears the other wingtip off).
Rouse: Well that's just NOT FAIR!!
Mysterious disembodied voice: SURRENDER NOW AND YOU MAY ESCAPE WITH YOUR LIFE!
Rouse: What do you think I am, French?!
(Millions of missiles, bolts, rays, blasts, beams, bursts and bullets converge on the Publisher. When the smoke clears the great craft looks like a piece of Swiss cheese).
Rouse: Well, as they say, the better part of valour is RUNNING AWAY!
(Rouse hurriedly refolds the Publisher into a small reentry capsule and plunges down through the atmosphere to join the rest of the LICC).
Crumbs, Chief, what'll we do now?!
LOL, Rouse's idiosyncrasy is supposed to a mixture of Bond and Penfold.
Zzzzzz... SNORE.....
(While hurtling through the atmosphere Rouse overhears the comments by a K-NIT TV 47 viewer that the show is getting 'too British'...)
Rouse: Your wish is my command!
Pulls on a cowboy hat over his camouflage cap, adds a couple of six-shooters to his belt, puts some spurs on his shoes along with the fridge magnets and begins talking in a '50s-Beano-American accent
Rouse: Wah let's brang the cows of frahdom an jarstice tah thah appressed maases aaf the plaanet balaaw. Gaad blaas Armenia!
(Eats a hamburger with 'fries', spits in a spittoon and hoists up a Stars and Stripes with 14 stripes and 51 stars)
Rouse (normal voice): That ought to do it, chums!
Well now I say now there just ain't somethin' right about that theah boy.
Bally hoo chappies, it took you that long to figure it out? ;)
Discussion on the Discussion board!
Ah, it felt good to say that again.
We interrupt this episode of LICC to bring you a special preview of our upcoming new show, LICC: The Prequel. The show is written and produced by Rick Berman and Brannon Braga, who join me now.
Exec: So, guys, tell me about your show!
Berman: Well, we thought what we'd do is listen carefully to what the fans want...
Braga: ...and then do the exact opposite.
Berman (nodding): Exactly. The show explores what the LICC characters were doing before the days of Phantom Returns.
Braga (laughing maniacally): We've made Tacoman and Milkshake childhood friends, even though they were born 1000 years apart! Muahaha!
Exec: I here there are other changes too...
Berman: Well, we thought the original meaning of the LICC acronym was outdated for the twenty-first century, so we've changed it to:
Braga: List of Intertemporal Chronological Capers.
Exec: That would refer to all those time travel episodes you've got planned?
Braga: 56 in the first season alone! Muahaha!
Berman: We think the show will be greatly well received. To ensure the show has high ratings, we've put all the female crewmembers in skimpy catsuits, even the ones who that would be specifically anathema for, like Soyburger Patricia.
Braga: No character development, lotsa time travel, lotsa flesh, NO CONTINUITY!!! MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
(Thankfully a sackful of anvilks falls on the two walking disaster areas before they can do any more damage).
Exec: We now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.
(As Rouse falls through the atmosphere he realises he's going to have to find some way to slow down. Refolding the Publisher and returning to his pocket, he opens a second pocket and begins pulling out various unusual items, including a set of flags of all nations and a washing line occupied entirely by women's underwear, which he self-consciously returns to his pocket. Finally he locates a handkerchief with a knot at each corner).
Rouse: Ah! Might not be on the beach, but I can still find a use for this!
(He holds it above his head experimentally, but of course does not slow down in the slightest. He sighs, puts the handkerchief away and then rummages in his pocket and produces a series of metal components and sheets of white polymer, which he hastily assembles. Minutes pass and at the end of it Rouse has successfully constructed a complete Millennium Dome).
Rouse: I knew this thing has to be useful for something, by George!
(The Dome brakes Rouse's fall and he falls gently to the rubbery ground, only bouncing about twenty times. He then finds his way out and surveys the ground toward the crashed Spidermobile miles away).
Rouse: Cripes! It's going to take me days to get there!
(And, indeed, Rouse will return in 2 days.)
Let's hope he's American again when he returns.
Disclaimer: I did *NOT* post the notice from the Evil Executive. Please do not steal other people's characters.
However, it wasn't bad at all.
We now return you to your IRREGULARLY scheduled programming!
And if they don't like the new show, they're all TRAITORS!!!
I bet Calvin's kiddie show troopers heard our crash...es. They might be here any second!
My favorite character as a child was Larry the Caffinated Starfish!
Sorry Scott, I thought the Exec wasn't an exclusive character, like 'Plot twist' or something. Won't happen again.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled adventures...
(Rouse finally comes up over the bright pink rubber horizon, sporting an absurdly long beard and being pulled in a makeshift sledge by a number of superevolved wolf-dogs)
Rouse: Hah! Who said you couldn't learn anything from watching Saturday morning cartoons!
(Rouse pauses, takes cover and stares at the crashed Spidermobile through a pair of binoculars. In the best tradition of movies, he sweeps them past something interesting, then swings them back quickly. In fact he overdoes it and breaks the binoculars in half. Using them as a pair of small telescopes, he focuses).
Rouse: That's strange...the Spidermobile has crashed between two great mountains...in fact they're so huge that they pierce through the atmosphere...
(Pull back to reveal that the two 'mountains indeed plunge upwards into space...pull back further to show that some way south, on the planet's equator, are a pair of dark oval lakes with a crescent-shaped lake below them with its points facing upwards).
Rouse: Crystallised cheesecakes! How am I going to get there?
(Suddenly Rouse hears approaching voices. He looks around desperately).
Rouse: This camouflage gear isn't much use on a bright pink rubber landscape! Wait...
(Rouse reaches into a pocket, pulls out a 25 pack of Hubba Bubba Strawberry and Prozac flavoured bubble gum, and energetically blows a bubble the size of a Mini which collapses over him and makes him look like a part of the landscape. Dimly he hears a pair of antropomorphised animal voices: )
"...the secret...
...core...
...not last long...
...foolish Lickers. If they...
...t worry. They...
...soon..."
Rouse: Could you be a little less cryptic, chaps?
(Eventually they pass and Rouse melts his way out of the bubble gum prison by burning a U.N. flag to appease the American viewers. He then hurries down the plain to the valley between the mountains, hoping to sneak back to the Spidermobile.)
Jackson, Butrfli, and Alex emerge from the ship, looking around. Alex has his virtual reality helmet on.
Jackson: So does that mean we've lost another ship?
Alex, to both Jackson and Milkshake: Sirs, the hovergenerators have managed to find more interesting things regarding Calvin. Jackson, this one should interest you particually.
With that, Alex presses a button on his helmet, and and image projects from it. Jackson look on with both interest and alarm.
The Punster... Knock Knock Man... The Running Gag... Bad Joke Man... How did he know those were some of my most deadly enemies?
Butrfli: Who were they?
Some of the most feared criminals known in my original home. Former bad stand up comics, they somehow gained the power to stun people with their bad jokes. Together, they were nearly deadly. The only way to stop them was bad singing and poetry. But how did they get here?
Alex: Simple.. Look at that sign.
Alex refocuses the image, and a sign appears. When translated, it proclaims "Welcome to the Annual Supervillian convention. Tonight: How to take over the universe. Tomorrow: Bingo night.
Another one? *faints*
Suddenly, a white cloth strip sooms through the group.
Yellowshirt: What was that?
Blueshirt: The Running Gag.
Time Travel Teacher: Hu'tt? Hu'tt?
Simone: Um, he's sick. My best friend's sister's boyfriend's brother's girlfriend heard from this guy who knows this kid who's going with the girl who saw Jadlad pass out at 47 Pizza Flavors last night. I guess it's pretty serious.
Time Travel Teacher: Thank you, Simone.
Simone: No problem whatsoever.
Suddenly Jadlad's father bursts in.
Piezza Hu'tt (Jadlad's dad): No. No. No. This is much too early. Prepare to fast-forward the lessons!
Time Travel Teacher: Preparing to fast-forward!
Piezza Hu'tt: Fast-forward!
Time Travel Teacher: Fast-forwarding, sir!
Lots of boring time travel lessons that no one wants to see later, the students finish their crash course in time travel. Dizzy from all the fast forwarding Jadlad and all the other students spin around landing on the floor. Finally Jadlad says...
If I'm not back in five minutes, wait longer!
He passes out and LICC goes to commercial.
It's the candy sensation that keeps sweeping the nation.
Phlox Rocks!
Yes, Phlox Rocks!
Lots of hard candy fun for everyone!
Phlox Rocks! From Crunchy Icky Candy, Inc.!
Time Travel Teacher: In 2930, the Humanist-controlled Earth System Senate, in an effort to alleviate the effects of the... Anyone? Anyone?... the Time Depression, passed the... Anyone? Anyone? The restriction bill? The Smalley-Hoot Time Restriction Act? Which, anyone? Raised or lowered?... raised restrictions on time travel, in an effort to protect the time stream from further disruptions. Did it work? Anyone? Anyone know the effects? It did not work, and the Earth System sank deeper into the Time Depression. Today we have a similar debate over this. Anyone know what this is? Class? Anyone? Anyone? Anyone seen this before? The Chortler Curve. Anyone know what this says? It says that at this point on the time/space curve, you will get exactly the same amount of disruption as at this point. This is very controversial. Does anyone know what Vice President Absurd called this in 3001? Anyone? Something-d-o-o science. "Poodoo" science.
If we take out Calvin quickly, that should reduce the danger in a big way. What have we got on sensors, Number One?
They got "Number One" on the sensors? Ewwww! They should clean it off!
hysterical giggling
Set a course for the bathroom, I've got to go, Number One.
Crumbs squared!
Number One is Missing...next on Mystery!
Jack Mightee could find him!
Meanwhile, at the Supervillain Convention
Ow! My back! Ow!
Question Mark! The Puffin! Jackster!
Thingnation! It's my old foe, Davisco Massimanga, the Man with the Ginger Wig!
He charges a million a hair...
It's even worse than that - it's a million EUROS! 8-O
AAAAAAAAHHHHH!
Hey, Scared of Europe Man, isn't that Berlin over there?
AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Isn't that Irving Berlin over there?
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!
First we take the Spidermobile, then we take Berlin.
(Rouse conquers his fears and wanders over to the sensor display)
Rouse: Hmm...looks like about 650,000 anthropomorphised animals, 23,400 unconvincing robots in the shapes of dinosaurs or articulated lorries, and 130 somethings which don't seem to show up very well...
On a little bluff not far from the crashed ship
Truck Van Rental: What do you think we should do?
Hertz Van Hire: We should send our articulated lorries in, capture the lot, and bring them to Calvin.
Truck Van Rental: Too subtle. Maybe we should bluff.
Hertz Van Hire: Huh?
Aagh! Carlsberg Export! They hate to see it leave almost as much as we like to see it arrive!
(One of the articulated lorries is catapulted from miles away and lands on Rouse's foot)
Rouse: Aaaaaagh! I've just been hit by an articulated lorry!
Passing goldshirt: Hertz?
Rouse: Not anymore, but thanks for asking.
(Ba-dum-bum-tish!)
A passing Norse God turns up to help
I AM THOR!
A passing passersby passes by.
"Take thome athprin."
We're going to have to fight our way out of here to reach Calvin. Any ideas?
There's always the obvious...
(Rouse pulls out a sniper rifle and takes aim at an anthropomorphised animal. He fires and misses. Frowning, he finds a closer target and fires again. This time he actually sees the bullet swerve off course and rebound amusingly from a frying pan)
Fossilised fish-hooks! Of course! None of the bullets or laser beams ever actually hit, do they...?
Does anyone have a big sack of anvils or something?
No, but I have a huge stock of redshirts!
(Rouse is working a sensor display and noting all the beings surrounding them, when he frowns in confusion).
People? This is strange...according to this, apart from us, there are no human lifesigns on this planet.
(Uneasily)
Not on the surface..
How about on the clamface?
?ecafmalc eht no tuoba woH
Looks likes the Phantom Returns dimension...
Suddenly, Jackson gets a strange look on his face
Oh Furbies, are you ready to play?
I'll get the Targ meat ready!
Adon, do you think you can cause a distraction or some destruction against the children show enemies surrounding us?
Sure, let me get right...
Adon just stopped in mid-sentince looking somewhat confused.
How did I get here? I could have sworn that I was just on.... Hey you, hand me that script!
A strangely proportioned person with huge eyes ran towards Adon, who seemed to absentmindedly sidestep this person and clothline him as he charged past. The poor guy dropped to the ground. As he did, the script fell out of his pocked and floated through the air. Adon grabbed the script, sat down, and started flipping through it.
Lets see, lets see... Hmmm.
As he flipped through with one hand, he held up his other hand in a "stop" gesture towards a group of nearby anthropomorphised animals. A golden beam of light leapt from the palm of his hand towards the group. When the beam passed, the group looked like black stick figured with blinking eyes.
Ahh! Here we are!
MILKSHAKE: "Adon, do you think you can cause..." blah, blah, blah.
ADON: "Sure, I'll get right on it! Adon proceed to rain destruction down on groups of the enemies.
I guess I can do that.
Adon proceeds to rain destruction (but oddly, no death) down on the groups of enemies.
Excellent. Tacomen, see if you can launch your fighters remotely from the bay, hop in them, and provide air support as the rest of the senior staff moves out.
It's raining destruction! And men!
Unleash the scpipts! Let's see him handle those!
As hard rock music blares, a door on the bridge opens, and Rikard walks out holding two very large rifles. Several other weapons are also strapped on to his outfit.
"What's that music?" he hears the voice in his head say.
"How should I know?" he responds to his shoulder, "I can't ever figure out how this place works."
He turns to Milkshake.
"So, sir, how about we hunt some Croc?"
grabs a rifle
Lock and load.
Aye! Let's kick some poorly animated backside!
(Rouse hurries off to the hangar deck, unfolds the Publisher, quickly repairs her with Liquid PaperTM and launches himself into the sky)
Coo-ee! Certainly a lot of them! Now, what would be a good...AHA!
(Rouse fumbles in his pockets for a few minutes before locating a huge box labelled 'EXTRA STRONG STARCH, COURTESY OF 1950s JOKES')
That ought to do the trick! What always happens to background characters in cartoons...?
(Rouse tips the starch over part of the advancing cartoon horde, which freeze in their tracks)
RIGOUR MORTIS!
Darth Mortis? What's he doing around here?
You're thinking of the £10,000 favourite from Robot Wars, pal.
Sir! The LICC is much stronger and stranger than we expected! They're fighting off our entire home guard, and are heading this way!
(Rouse continues to fly the Publisher through the air. In one hand he holds a Multigun, a weapon which has a pistol-sized stock but a water-cooler-sized fuselage which terminates in numerous individual missiles, lasers and barrels. Attached to the side with an elastic band is a single brightly coloured Party Popper).
Hah! Take that, you unconvincing robot! All your base are belong to us!
(Rouse fires the Multigun, screaming in rage. The sound of the Multigun is something like: )
KAPOW-BLAM-BOOM-ZAP-PCHEEOW-CRASH-KABLOOIE-BOOM-BANG-KAPOW!!!
...pop.
(And the smoking ruins of the unconvincing robot are decorated with brightly coloured streamers).
Tally ho!
(Rouse begins humming the Captain Rouse theme tune, which goes to the tune of Madness' 'Our House': )
"R. Rouse,
In the middle of the sky!
R. Rouse,
He loves steak and kidney pie!
R. Rouse,
He's a member of the LICC!
R. Rouse,
He gives enemies a kick!
R. Rouse,
He's the champion of UK!
R. Rouse,
That is what his fans all say!"
(Suddenly a cyborg dinosaur takes offence at Rouse's awful singing and blasts the Publisher from the sky with radioactive flame)
Bother!
Now now, stop it, stop it.
This is getting much too silly, I'm going to have to put a stop to this right away. On to the next sketch, it's a lovely outdoors sketch, and we hope you'll like it.
10! 9! 8! 7!
(Rouse's superior, General Nolij, momentarily appears, dropping a 16 ton weight on the Colonel)
Nolij: I outrank you and I say we should continue with the silliness! After all the Silly Party won in the last election. Now go back to making your Kentucky Fried Children!
Ahem. We now return you to your regularly scheduled adventures.
I'm a trendy totebag!
Heavy Lourde falls on Homsar
Stop the Madness! And the Tears for Fears, too!
(Hurtling towards earth, trailing flames and smoke, Rouse pulls out a lamp and sends a distress call in Morse code...)
-.-. .-. .. .--. . ... / -.-. .-. .. -.- . -.-- / .-.. --- --- -.- ... / .-.. .. -.- . / .. .----. ...- . / -... . . -. / ... .... --- - / -.. --- .-- -. / --- .-.. -.. / -.-. .... .- .--. ... / .- -. -.. / .- -- / .- -... --- ..- - / - --- / -.. .. ... .- .--. .--. . .- .-. / .. -. / .- / -... .. --. / -... .- .-.. .-.. / --- ..-. / ..-. .-.. .- -- . ... / .- -. -.. / ... -- --- -.- . / - -.-- .--. . / - .... .. -. --. / ... --- ...
I hope the universal translator can handle that!
"CRIPES CRIKEY LOOKS LIKE I'VE BEEN SHOT DOWN OLD CHAPS AND AM ABOUT TO DISAPPEAR IN A BIG BALL OF FLAMES AND SMOKE TYPE THING SOS"
Suddenly, Captain Rouse stops in mid air, while the Publisher continues on its crash course with terra firma.
Please be more careful. Being a superhero is dangerous work.
Adon was standing in empty space, a few feet from where Rouse was floating. Adon had his back to Rouse, and he was restng his sword on his shoulder.
Now, if you'll excuse me...
Rouse dropped towards the ground, but slowed down just before he touched down. He landed as gently as a feather. And then two halves of a giant, mecha-moth came crashing down on either side of him, split cleanly down the middle. He looked up, but Adon was nowhere to be found.
"How'd Rouse get all the way to Earth?"
"Earth, not Earth."
"Eh?"
"Small e. He said 'earth'."
Thanks Adon old chap!
(Stuck on the ground, Rouse begins rummaging in his voluminous pockets for weapons with which to fight the oncoming hordes of cartoon characters. He pulls out a glossy leaflet.)
Not another advertising circular! But wait...if I apply my training in the ancient art of Origami...
(Rouse makes a series of complex folds, then hurls the leaflet at a line of unconvincing robots. The leaflet whips around like a Frisbee and decapitates each of them in a row)
Paper cuts are just the worst, aren't they?
(Rouse ducks as the circular loops back towards him - his hat stays where it was and it cut in two - and the circular gets embedded in the robot who was sneaking up behind Rouse in the obligatory hero-defeats-the-sneak-attack-without-even-noticing scene).
I'm still in the fight yet, chums!
Rikard walks down the ship's ramp. In the distance he can see...
"It's the Calvin's palace! He's probaby there."
"How do you know that?" his shoulder replies.
"Come on, if you were a megalomaniac, wouldn't you be in a massive building that dwarves the surrounding city like that one does?" Rikard asks.
"Of course I would!" Bill agrees, "So let's go get him..."
"Exactly!"
"...just as soon as we get past about 50,000 of Calvin's troops," Bill the Crazed Shoulder finishes.
Rikard sees what Bill is talking about as some distance away, a large, angry crowd of Calvin's allies are heading toward them.
Rikard: "Huh."
(Rouse is standing atop a pile of smoking uncovincing robot ruins and shredded animated characters, panting. His camouflage gear is torn and scorched with near misses and he is reduced to fighting with his atomic cricket bat)
Odds fish! At this rate we'll never break our way through...if only I could think of something to deal with them! Even just enough to cut a path to Calvin's palace...
(With a blinding flash of blue-gold light the Kirinre reappears. He surveys the scene and shakes his head dismissively)
Kirinre: Ah, Mr Rouse-
Rouse: Captain Rouse!
Kirinre: Indeed. I see you are in a sticky situation.
Rouse: That's not my fault, it's this dashed low quality oil that dashed crocodile uses in his unconvincing robots!
Kirinre: Do be less literal, Agent 0898. As it is, you've had a couple of episodes to yourself and now I must saddle you with the obligatory seemingly incompetent sidekick.
Rouse: Do your worst!
(The Kirinre gestures and, via another flash of blue-gold fire, a second figure appears. This is Lefftenant Dr. Percy Biggles, taller and thinner than Rouse with half-moon spectacles, a high forehead and a bog-brush hairstyle. He wears a white lab coat; one pocket is so overloaded with pens that the coat visibly slumps over to the right hand side. As he appears Biggles' teeth click shut on the vanished jam doughnut he was about to bite into).
Biggles: Bother!
Rouse: Oh, it's you, Perce.
Biggles: Cappers! Thank goodness you're here.
(The Kirinre looks put out)
Kirinre: Oh. I see you already know each other.
Rouse: Naturally. Now push off back to Kirinrenor!
Kirinre (grumbling): I don't know, you try and set up meaningful suspense... A'Naitye-thym-e-Kirinrenor!
(He vanishes)
Rouse: All right, Perce, got any ideas for dealing with these animated scum?
Perce: Naturally Cappers. All we need is...
Pancakes!
Plastics!
a miracle, all we need is yoouuu.....
Love!
Adon landed next to Rouse and Kirinre.
If a path is what you need, perhaps I can provide you with one.
Adon crouched down into a sprinter's starting position with sword in hand, and seemed to burst into golden flames.
He litereally exploded into a run, so fast that all you could see what the golden streak of light cutting through the mass of enemies. He slid to a stop on the far side of the group, sword in hand, and a clean path through the group.
Masses of henchmen are easy. Its boss characters that cause problems.
Rouse: Ta muchly once again, Adon!
(Rouse begins moving along the path, stopping to roll and hide behind piles of destroyed cartoons every so often. Perce follows behind walking at a more sedate pace but in a straight line, so he keeps up with Rouse)
Rouse: Come on Lefftenant, there's no time to lose.
Perce: Of course Cappers, but I trust you've seen them?
(Rouse turns to see that several of the larger cartoon robots have broken out of the surviving hordes to the side and have surrounded them. Adon and the other LICCers are busy fighting enemies of their own and cannot help).
Rouse: Crumbs! What can we do? I've only got my trusty old seventy-eighter conker left...
Perce: Save it for later, Captain. I've got an idea...
(He pulls out a vast chemistry textbook and begins flipping through it. Catching on, Rouse pulls out a massive cauldron and some ingredients).
Perce: Good thing you bought all that Harry Potter moichandoize, eh?
Rouse (warning finger): For my nephew!
Perce: You're an only child.
Rouse (coughs meaningfully): ANYWAY...what are we making?
Perce: Why, something to deal with the cartoons of course. A batch of the infamous 'Who Framed Roger Rabbit?' "dip".
Rouse: But that's fictional!
Perce (jerking a thumb at the advancing robots): So are they.
Rouse: Fair point. So what are the reagents?
Perce (reading): Two parts jam, one part cream, beans, greens and tangerines, all stirred up with a great big stick and twice a day spread on thick.
(Rouse hurriedly mixes it all up and then tips the cauldron on its side. A vast wave of noxious green liquid overtakes the advancing cartoons and dissolves them. Rouse high-fives Perce).
Rouse: Good work, Famous One!
Perce (still reading the book): Yes, "dip", dissolves only 'toons and...trousers?
(Both Rouse and Perce look down with an air of inevitability. We discover that Rouse has Union Jack underwear, while Perce prefers that with a Periodic Table on it).
Rouse: Ah. Now this is just getting farcical. Not to worry, though, as I have in my pocket a miniaturised wardrobe...
(Rouse reaches into his pocket, fumbles about for a bit and eventually pulls out a large talking mouse with a sword, which cuts his hand and then runs away).
Rouse (sucking his hand): Mm, think I went a bit too deeply in.
Deep in Castle Calvin two small creatures watch the spectacle unfold.
"Shouldn't we help them at last a bit?"
"Well, I'm feeling very lazy today but perhaps we can indeed have some indecent fun."
"Oh yes, mindless slaughtering of enemy guards, collateral damage everywhere, looting, sacking and pillaging and..."
"Nahhh, too obvious. Look for example at the guard behind the big portal over there. In exactly five seconds he will die from natural causes. 3-2-1- heart attack!"
The guard reaches for his cheat, jumps backwards like Ghengis Khan nearly 1800 years earlier and dies. 7.0 - 6.6 - 7.3 Applause.
"Good, where's the next one? Ah, right over there below the crack in the ceiling (which wasn't there just a second ago). Does a falling stone count as an accident?"
"Yes, it does."
Crack. Whump. Smash. The only thing still visible from the guard are his boots. 8.2 - 7.9 - 8.0 Applause!
"And now - a suicide! That guy over there has found an ancient CD player in the coner. He looks at it and - yes! - presses Play. Big mistake - it is a medley of my best songs and..."
After screaming for several minutes the guard's had explodes in a very messy (but censored) way. 10.0 - 10.0 - 10.1 Applause!!!
"They are playing our song..."
"Excellent! Now ready the inflatable fembots."
A runner ran up to Adon and handed him a letter, and then vanished into the crowd. Adon opened the letter and read it.
It has come to my attention that I am being too "serious."
Adon fired a blast at random into the crowd.
Well, I'm sorry, but I just don't do comedy well.
Someone leaped through the air at Adon, who caught him in the air and tossed him away without missing a beat.
I mean, I try, but it seems that some force beyond my control prevents it.
Someone else tried to attack Adon, but hit an invisible something and slid down, dazed.
I hope that all of you critics can accept me for who I am. Thank you.
Adon crumpled the letter into a ball and tossed it over his shoulder, which promptly exploded, sending people flying (the letter, not his shoulder.)
anvil falls on adon squishing him
Adon steps onto screen from off camera and looks at the anvil.
We're gonna need a new stunt double.
(Rouse and Biggles hurry down the track cut by Adon and the "dip". Rouse has managed to locate a non-Narnian wardrobe and both have restored their clothing to as normal as it gets. Rouse stares forward at the approaching palace).
Rouse: You don't think he's trying to compensate for something?
Perce: Come on, Cappers!
(They sidle around the remains of a vast unconvincing saurian robot and are finally at the confines of the palace. They are faced by a line of human guards with powerful-looking weapons).
Rouse: Oo-er. Still, God for Lizzy, England and St George, eh?
Perce: Wait, Captain! They're-
(With a sudden movement all the guards turn their weapons around and shoot themselves. They fall to the floor in synch, emitting clouds of colourful smoke).
Rouse: I don't believe it! Wha-
Perce: I think I have it!
(He holds out a scientific doohickey).
Perce: Look at these sound waves! They can mean only one thing!
Rouse: So why weren't we affected?
Perce: Well, I have a hearing aid which automatically shut off, but you...?
Rouse: Oh, I actually like Chris de Burgh.
Perce: Come on Cappers! We've got a job to do!
(And the two British spies rush into the palace).
So Chris de Burgh is considered a Vogon in the 31st century?
You mean he isn't now?!!
New! From KBG Enterprises, "The Greatest Hits of Chris de Burgh". Yes, with this five hundred thousand-hour, fifty-CD box collection, you can put up to seven thousand redshirt guards into a descent into paranoid suicidal schizophrenia! Just well over 700 pounds, or dollars, or in Canada 35 cents.
Coming up soon is Part XXVI of LICC4, but before that another short preview of Brannon Braga's new show 'The ContinuityBusters'-
(The screen blurs as the disgusted K-NIT TV 47 viewer uses his TiVo to fast forward to LICC...)
What we need is some realy sillyness.
Jackson whispers in Butrfli's ear, and she nods. Chanting and waving her arms, several large trucks appear in the middle of the crowd. The truck doors open by themselves, revealing several tons of pies and other things that squish.
Jackson: PIE FIGHT!
Jackson, Butrfli, and Alex pick up pies and begin throwning them at the bad guys.
As the Tacomen and Butrfli get into the pie fight, and are enjoying themselves, an ominious development occurs...
A hail of muffins rains down on the crowd....
ominous music... Fade to commercial
Rouse: Old English muffins? The kind which only exists west of Ireland?
Perce: Come on Cappers, we've got to get on with it!
Rouse: Oh, okay.
(They leave the rest of the LICC fighting Calvin's remaining henchmen and hurry into the palace)
Rouse: Puff! Pant! It's at times like these that I wish I'd managed to assemble that Ikea exercise machine.
Perce: Why not?
Rouse: The instructions were in Swedish.
Perce: I thought you knew Swedish.
Rouse: In the sources I learned it from you don't normally hear from Ikea...unless they built the fridge that needs fixing.
Perce: Grow up, 0898.
(They round a corner and come to the Obligatory Big Central Throne Room Type Thing. It is deserted except for a single hooded figure in the centre.)
Figure: So, Lickers, at last we meet.
Rouse: I've an idea - let's skip the whole mysterious epic confrontation rubbish and just waste the sandplayer!
(Rouse swings his 78er conker around his head then hurls it like a bolas at the hooded figure. The conker passes through the figure with a flicker of rainbow distortion and ends up embedded in the wall behind).
Perce: Crumbs!
Rouse: Ditto!
Figure: Ha. Ha. Ha. Everything is going according to plan.
(The figure vanishes).
Rouse: Just a hologram. They must have escaped offplanet.
Perce: No, can't be - we'd have seen any ships or transporter beams.
Rouse: Then where are they?
(And, slowly but inevitably, their gazes are dragged downwards...)
All of these animated characters are really getting on my nerves. Wait a minute... Animated!
Adon opened a portal, stepped through, and vanished, with the portal closing behind him.
Meanwhile... at K-NIT Studeo's Phil Farrand Animation Department.
Animator: This battle is so cool! I think I'll put more cyborg dinosaurs over here and...
Adon stepped out of the shadows behind him.
Adon: That's quite enough trouble out of you!
The animator spun around in his chair and screamed, but quickly recovered his composure.
Animator: Jeeze, Jason. You scared me. Shouldn't you be over in Studio 47 filming that action sequence?
Adon: No.
Adon drew his sword and cut the computer terminal in half in one fluid motion. The poor animator dived out of the way just in time and crouched in the corner.
Animator: You... you're the real deal!
Suddenly, he smiled coldly and stood up.
Animator: That won't help, you know. All of those shots were stored on the main server.
Adon: I know. That's why I made a stop before coming here.
Meanwhile, in the server room...
Kirk: Hello... My name is... Captain...James... T... Kirk. Would you... care... to play... a game... of fizzbin?
AAAAAAAGGGHHHHHH!!
(Huge explosion)
Darn it. I really hate that man! We lose more RBCC (Really Big Computer Corporation) computers to him...
Just then, the animator suffered a fatal heart attack...and DIED.
All the animated creatures, save Calvin and a few of his closest guard who are unfortunately and nauseatingly live-action, disappear.
Yet the sound of an approaching army lingers...the sound of thousands of feet, shod with Thomas' English Muffins and Pillsbury Breakfast Muffins (With Real Blueberry Buds!).....
To the Tacomen: You fools! The food fight attracted the Muffin men!
A muffin conks him on the head and he drops over, dead.
Jackson activates his Comm.
Anybody that's good and associated with food come join the battle. We're gonna have a food fight!
With that, both Jackson and Alex activate their respective armors. Jackson begins tossing a variety of Mexican food at the approaching Muffin Men, while Alex and Butrfli continue to throw pies at any and every bad guy that approaches.
A portal opened, and Adon stepped out. He eyed the food fight carefully and produced a very short sword from somewhere under his cloak.
This looks like a perfect time to try out my new Ginsu short sword! Behold... it slices!
Adon cut an incoming head of lettus in half.
It dices!
An onion came Adon's way, and was cut into neat cubes in the blink of an eye. Behind him, a redshirt started crying after getting pelted with onion cubes.
It makes hundreds of Julien Fries!
A small truckload of potatoes came flying Adon's way, and hundreds of uncooked fries piled up behind up, buring the poor redshirt who was too busy crying to notice.
You can even cut a tin can with it!
Oddly enough, an actual Battle Tank came sailing througn the air, was cut in half, and crushed the pile of fries to paste.
It will not break! It will not...
The blade shattered.
...It broke. Good thing I got a lifetime warrenty with it.
Adon pulled out the warrenty card, which also shattered. Adon picked up one of the pieces and read what was written on it.
"Warrenty void after interdimensional travel or after being used in a commercial parody." I knew I should have read the warrenty before buying it!
Viewer 1: I thought Adon didn't do silly?
Viewer 2: Yeah, well, you know how it is...
I give you an onion...
(Adon is hit on the side of the head by it, and now gets REALLY angry)
Lady in Red squadron, ADVANCE! Fire our SmartOnes (tm) frozen diet entree weapons!
Fergie! Cease that food fight immediately! We are not amused.
Rouse: Did you hear that, Perce? H.M.Q.!
Perce: Nonsense Cappers, that can't have been H.M.Q., she referred to contemporary events but spoke like Victoria. Must be one of Calvin's impostors.
Rouse: You're right Perce,
Both: -As always-
Rouse: And it's time we got to the, aha, bottom of this.
(Rouse taps the floor beneath him. Like the rest of the planet it's made out of pink rubber. When he tries to break through it with his indestructible 78er conker it just bounces off and smashes his glasses)
Rouse: Ow!!
Perce: Here.
(Perce hands Rouse some new glasses and then studies the bouncy floor before pulling a canister of liquid helium out of a pocket).
Rouse: Why not liquid nitrogen?
Perce: Why not?
Rouse: Fair enough.
(Perce pours the liquid helium on the floor and it sets hard amid smoky fumes of evaporating helium. Cracks develop in the suddenly brittle rubber).
Perce: Now, Captain!
Rouse: Aye, Lefftenant!
(Rouse takes a mighty swing at the brittle patch and smashes through it with his conker. We learn that the rubber layer is only a foot thick and there is an empty black void beyond. Rouse almost falls through but is caught by Biggles).
Rouse: Chuff me, thanks Perce!
Perce: Nothing to it Cappers. Now, we'd better explore the Mysterious Underground CavernsTM.
Rouse: Good idea! Just let me assemble a crude harness and lowering rope out of all these skipping ropes I, ahem, just happen to have...
Satan goes to the lake of fire...
You! Fisherman! I want you to go find those who were responsible for all h*ll breaking loose, and punish them!
Fisherman: Arr! It were that Pepperman, fer sure! I'll be a-gettin' him!
With a flash, the Angry Fisherman vanishes, and appears on whatever-the-heck-the-planet-they-are-fighting-on.
Fear not! Under a UKIP government fishermen need be angry no more once we claw back our rightful fisheries from the corrupt octopus of Brussels!
I must find and destroy my evil twin brother, Fries!
gets head bashed in
Arr! Where be ye, Pepperman? It's not just me that's a-wantin' t'get ye this time, but Satan hisself!
Delgado, not wanting all this food to go to waste, sets up an omlet bar.
A very large bolder lifted itself out of the ground, and with a flash of silver, the bolder was carved into a giant, stone onion.
You can have the onion. I don't want it.
The stone onion was dropped onto Carol Ann Duffy's head.
That was awfully bold of him.
(Ignoring the distant scream of the tedious poet, Perce slowly lowers Rouse into the dark interior using the harness made out of skipping ropes).
Rouse: Coo! It's dark down here.
Perce: Why don't you use the torch?
Rouse: Good idea. (Snick sound) Aagh! It's horrible! Calvin has made a clone version of me to do battle! Only much less handsome.
Perce (peering down into the caverns): No Cappers, that's a mirror.
Rouse: Ahem, yes, I knew that, I was just being Ironic.
Perce: Grow up, 0898.
(As they are nattering one of Calvin's leftover anthropomorphised animals sneaks up behind Perce and pushes him in. Rouse watches open-mouthed as Perce passes him on the way downward, then screams as both are rocketed toward the distant ground...until they suddenly invert and end up pressed to the 'ceiling'.)
Rouse: Crikey! What was that? What is this?
Perce (looking 'upward'): Cue dramatic music. My word.
(Rouse follows his gaze and finds that the centre of the planet consists of a vast sphere, fiery and starlike on one side, black on the other. It is slowly rotating, always casting light on one half of the planet's interior. Rouse looks curiously at said interior surface and begins to notice familiar, but inverted, patterns...)}
Rouse: Golly! It's Earth! The continents of Earth duplicated on the inside of the planet!
What do I sound like?
Evidently a torch turning on!
What, are we in the Middle Ages? It's a flashlight, for all you Americans.
You-, you-, you non-British guy!
(Rouse and Biggles have reached the coast of one of the internal continents, where the sea laps the shore).
Rouse: Cor, I do like to be beside the seaside. So what do you think Calvin made this lot for?
Biggles: I should think it's to train infiltrators for spy missions on Earth, Cappers.
Rouse: Not very original...
Biggles: What do you expect of a talking crocodile?
Rouse: Fair point.
(Rouse looks upward).
Rouse: That's interesting. There is no Atlantean continent.
Biggles: Ah...then Calvin must be planning to send his infiltrators back through time, before Atlantis was raised.
Rouse: Hmm...when to, dy'a think?
Biggles: I daresay we'll find out when we see a few of his fakes. But how do we get across this sea?
(Both stare across the sea to the next continent)
Rouse: I have an idea. All I need are cake mixers, a bicycle and egg whisks!
(As he speaks he pulls them out of pockets)
Biggles (as Rouse works feverishly with a monkey wrench): What are you building, a Dalek?
Rouse: Hardy har har! But wait...and there we have it!
(Rouse has attached all the cake mixers and egg whisks to the bike's wheels so that when he pedals they twirl around).
Rouse: Hop on.
Biggles: If I must.
(Both get on the bike and Rouse pedals off across the sea at high speed, sending a great wake of spray behind them as the whirling cake mixers and egg whisks keep them afloat. As they go (up) over the horizon, Rouse begins singing 'Two People on a Bike' by the popular beat combo Mr. Leslie and the Dead Redshirts).
The LICC suddenly breaks into Calvin's Seekwet Command/Throne Centere, causing the underlings to gnash their teeth and shout "Curses!" and all that
You're going down, Croc!
Crikey! Let's watch as the LICC attempts to capture Calvin the Crocodile!
I daresay, old chap, such a thing is fraught with danger, and should only be attempted with the utmost care and preparation.
(While the LICC make their confrontation, Rouse and Biggles are still searching for Calvin's master plan on the inside of the hollow planet...)
Biggles (fiddling with a doodad): According to my handy-dandy anything-detector here, Calvin's fakes here are supposed to be imitating humans from the late eighteenth century.
Rouse (eyeing the passing Calvinites in the form of human peasants): Hmm. Can't think of ANYTHING important that happened in the late eighteenth century...
Biggles: Me neither.
Rouse: We're still out of weapons. Wait, here comes a fake French peasant.
Biggles: I've got a linguaphone translator but it's stuck on the Arabic word for 'And'.
Rouse: Wait, I've got an idea for how we can use that... (Every time he presses the button on the linguaphone it emits a 'Wa wa wa wa wa wa' sound).
"Sugar! (Wa-wa-wa-wa-wa-wa)
Ah, Honey Honey! (Wa-wa-wa-wa-wa-wa)
You are my candy girl-"
Biggles: Stop that now! You'll just have to use your GCSE French.
Rouse: OK. "Monsieur! Je suis un poisson et j'aime allez a la plage!"
Crikey! That was supposed to have been posted as "The Crocodile Hunter", don't know what happened!
Saved Forms are both your friend and Mortal Enemy.
(Rouse is buying weapons from Pierre Chemiserouge, the fake Frenchman)
Rouse: So that's one blunderbuss, one howitzer and ammunition...Combien?
Chemiserouge: Trois livres.
Rouse: Three quid! I bet this thing couldn't even shoot three quid!
Chemiserouge: Zut alors! Vous insultez mon honneur! Regardez!
(Chemiserouge drops three livre coins in the blunderbuss and prepares to fire when Rouse takes it off him).
Rouse: Give that to me! I won't believe it until I do it myself!
Chemiserouge: Si vous devez.
(Rouse takes aim at a distant target, then at the last moment whirls around and blasts Chemiserouge. The fake Frenchman falls to the floor, reverting to an animated character before disintegrating).
Rouse: Well, that was easy. Come on Perce! Have you found anything yet?
Biggles: Yes. Look!
(Rouse follows his gaze to see a flashing light in South America).
Rouse: Flashing lights mean time machines! And that looks to be in the Undemocratic Fascist Junta of San Cualquiera...
Biggles: There's no time to lose!
(They set off, Rouse wielding the blunderbuss and Biggles towing the howitzer).
High above the battle, in one of the palace's upper floors, stands Calvin the Yellow Crocodile. He looks out a window at the battle raging below.
"Hmmm," he says, "This is not going at all as I'd hoped it would."
"What will we do, Master?" an frantic underling asks, "They've broken into this palace..."
"I know," Calvin says.
"...and they've discovered your secret plan!"
"I know," Calvin says.
"What are your orders, Master?" the underling asks, beginning to tear up.
"Fight to a hilarious death, of course," Calvin responds, nonchalantly, "what else?"
The underling's face lights up.
"Yes Master, we will defend you until the end. Thank you, Master!" And so, the underling runs out, taking all but a few guards with him to fight the LICC.
Turning to the window, Calvin sighs.
"Well, it was fun while it lasted.
Just as Calvin is looking out the window, he is suprised to see Jackson and Butrfli looking back at him.
Jackson: Suprise!
Butrfli: Can we enter, please? I don't think I can hold him much longer...
Confused, Calvin steps back, allowing the two heroes to fly through.
(Rouse and Biggles, the latter panting as he tugs the heavy howitzer, appear over the crest of a hill in San Cualquiera, South America).
Rouse: We did it! Now all we have to do is find the time machine!
Biggles: Look Cappers!
(Before them, in the centre of an eighteenth century Latin American city, is a huge, monstrously sophisticated complex terminating in a huge upwards-pointing spike with a ball of spectral, pulsating light atop it).
Rouse: So dis must be da place!
(They hurry on, towards the time machine).
Calvin is stunned.
"How did you two get up here?" he asks, flabbergasted, "And why did I just let you in?"
(The time machine looms before the two British spies. Around it some of the Calvinites in human form bustle).
Biggles: We have to stop them!
Rouse: First we should inform the others.
Biggles: OK. (Dials his mobile phone) "LICC? This is Romeo One and Bravo Two, we've found that Calvin's planning to use a time machine and we've found it-"
Rouse: No you divvy! Haven't you ever seen an episode of Star Trek?!
Biggles (abashed): Of course, sorry, Captain. "LICC, 'there's something here you should really come down and see. I can't describe it, as per Regulation 4747'".
Rouse: Better.
Butrfli points to her wings and Jackson points to his boots.
Butrfli: I have wings, and my companion has rocket boots. A strength spell or two, and we're here.
Jackson: As for why you let us in... just a plot point, I would assume.
With that, he raises his gauntlet to his lips and says
Jackson to the LICC, Butrfli and I have reached Calvin's inner sanctum and have him captured and somewhat confused.
At that moment, both heroes briefly flicker.
(Suddenly the time machine flares and lines of brilliant blue-white light begin to enfold the fake South American city on the interior of the planet).
Biggles: It's too late! They're engaging the chronoshift!
(Biggles pulls out a flags-of-the-world chart: the flags are flickering and fritzing crazily with the stars and bars and stripes and colours changing as the time machine sends ripples through history).
Rouse: Then there's only one thing to do! Follow them!
(The two heroes dive into the chronoshift field as, with a final flash of brilliant light, the time machine chronoshifts the entire town filled with faux Calvinite humans away)
When the light faded, there was nothing left.
"Captured? Of course. GUARDS!" As soon as Calvin yells for them, the door at the back of the room opens. Eight large Voutarans run in and surround the two LICC.
"Now," he says with a satisfied expression on his face, "Where are the real LICC?"
In the lower levels of the palace/evil HQ, Milkshake, Adon, and other LICC continue to take out Calvin's troops. Milkshake is having a little trouble with one of Calvin's larger men, when the door behind the Calvinite opens and Rikard steps out. Seeing his captain needing help, Rikard clocks the enemy fighter from behind.
"Rikard, where'd you come from?" Milkshake asks.
"Came in through the sewers, Cap," he responds, "I had a little help."
"Viva La Resistance!" says someone behind Rikard, "viva la resistance!" someone else answers.
Milkshake then notices that in the room Rikard just came from are several Voutarans.
"Yeah, they're literally an underground resistance to the Croc," Rikard explains, "they were based-"
"VIVA LA RESISTANCE!!"
"-in the sewers. And for some reason they're also a little French."
"Viva la Resistance!"
(Rouse and Biggles see a Ring of FireTM fly up around the fake Calvinite town and then die down again, leaving apparently no difference...until they look upwards and see that the hollow interior of the planet with the artificial sun has been replaced with a very real sun on a blue sky).
Calvinite (disguised as 18th century peasant, to Rouse): Come on you two! While our brave and selfless overlord combats the LICC, we must go and change the past so the LICC never existed!
(He runs away north, followed by the other Calvinites, who abandon the time machine)
Rouse: Hm. Looks like they're heading into the Unpopular Military Dictatorship of Flibbleguay.
Biggles: It's probably still the Spanish Viceroyalty of Flibbleguay, Cappers.
Rouse: Good point. Can you use your anything-detector to find out exactly where - ah, and when - we are?
Biggles: One moment. (Fiddles with the anything-detector) By the stars and the level of pollution in the atmosphere...we're on the real Earth, Cappers, and the date is... 10:32 am, July 1st, 1776. Give or take a couple of centuries.
Rouse: 1776...why does that sound familiar?
Biggles: According to my handy pocket Encyclopaedia Britannica, it's when the American colonists revolted against British rule.
Rouse: Curses! So Calvin's dastardly minions are going to change history by making the evil rebels win against the patriotic and loyal Tory forces!
Biggles: Er no, Cappers, the colonials won anyway.
Rouse (suspiciously): Are you sure? Oh well, they must be trying something else then. Anyway, we'd better follow them. Got that howitzer? Then let's go!
(They trudge away north after the Calvinites)
(Rouse and Biggles emerge over the crest of a hill and look down on Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, British North America).
Rouse: They seemed to all split up...some went for the ports, some for the west coast...
Biggles: But it's got to be the revolution they're going to interfere with! It's the first of July! Tomorrow the Americans will declare independence!
Rouse: I thought that was the fourth of July.
Biggles: So do they, but apparently not.
Rouse: OK. Follow that Calvinite!
(For one Calvinite is indeed heading into the city, holding a rifle that looks suspiciously advanced for 1776. Biggles and Rouse hightail it after him and eventually find him in a folio depository opposite a familiar-looking building. The two British spies hide around the corner from the Calvinite as he sets up his rifle at a window).
Rouse: Let's get the sandplayer!
Biggles: No! First we should find out what he wants to do!
(So they pause and wait, looking through a neighbouring window down at the building. Finally some figures emerge).
Rouse: Isn't that Thomas Jefferson?
Biggles: Either that or the Mount Rushmore souvenir department is getting carried away.
(From below they overhear:
'...assure you if you rebel against British rule you can count on...'
'...come on, France yes, but Spain?...'
'...do not look a gift herse in the muth. We need ull the allies we can git. We wood be pleased if you wood jyne us, Major-'
Rouse: Jefferson, that's got to be who he's going to assassinate! Quick, we'll-
(But before they can move the Calvinite quickly fires. Down below they watch in horror as...the Spanish major is hit in the throat by...a dart?)
Biggles: Wha-?
(The Spanish Major falls to the floor and then vanishes in a flicker of rainbow light. Jefferson and the other Americans look up in horror as the Calvinite sprays them with darts, but almost as an afterthought. They too all vanish. Finally Rouse manages to level his blunderbuss, but the Calvinite beats the ancient weapon. Rouse and Biggles are hit by darts and vanish...to where?).
Jackson: Most of them are still fighting off various bad guys. As for us, we're fairly nearby.
As he says this, an odd whistling sound is heard from outside the window. A virtual hail of pies and plasticine taco shells fly through the window, the shells covering and enveloping the guards and Calvin. The pies cover the shells, coating both them and the floor.
Jackson: The shells immoblize you, and the pies will harden around the shells and the floor, inabling you to escape. And just to make sure of things...
With a shimmer, several objects appear in the air. In a flash, the uncloaked hovergenerators swoop down and put a small helmet on Calvin's head.
Butrfli: That is a standard antitelepathy helmet, enhanced with a few of my spells. have a nice day, and bye-bye.
With that, the two heroes fade, leaving a pair of smaller hovergenerators, which escape through the window.
(When Rouse awakes he checks his knockoff Rolex and sees that not much time has passed. He gets up, finds that he has not been restrained and still has his blunderbuss, and is in a shielded room with no windows. A big cloth covers something ominous in the corner. Unconscious bodies on platters fill the room).
Rouse: Coo! Here's a turn up for the books! (Shakes Biggles' form) Oi, Perce! Don't go lying down on the job!
Biggles (woozily): So many beautiful things...wha? Oh, it's you Cappers. Where are we?
Rouse: I'm guessing we're in the obligatory secret lab type thing.
Biggles: Well I'm in my element then aren't I?
Rouse: Suppose so. OK, who else is here?
(They survey the room)
Rouse: Well, on this side there's Jefferson, and - isn't that George Washington? And Adams, and-
Biggles: On this side is Lord North and Pitt the Elder and - ooh look, it's Mad King George the Third!
Rouse (turns around and gives a quick obligatory bow to the unconscious German): Don't talk that way about the King of England, Scotland, Ireland, and Elector of Hanover, Perce. "Mentally Challenged" King George the Third.
Biggles: But what's this third group to one side?
Rouse: Well, there's that Spanish Major, and...interesting...judging by the clothing and skin complexions, I'm seeing several Europeans from different countries, a number of Ashkenazim...can't see anyone particularly historic, though...
(From behind them a voice suddenly says: )
Voice: Ha. Ha. Ha.
Rouse (spinning around): Oh, it's that Mysterious Hooded Figure from earlier. You should really get a name you know.
M.H.F.: My name is of no importance!
Biggles: What, you're an Enterprise Ferengi?
M.H.F.: My name is not for the likes of you!
Rouse: That's a pity. How about 'Darth Anubis'?
Biggles: No, I prefer 'Darth Angmar'.
'Darth': What is this insolence?!
Rouse: Well, according to my dictionary here, insolence is 'us being totally unimpressed by your pathetic textbook evil posturing-
Biggles: -and patronisingly talking back to you as though you were a naughty toddler.
Darth: Enough! Soon you will never have existed. For I am going to ensure that the LICC never was.
Rouse: Calvin will already be being overrun, back in that other time.
Darth: Calvin is merely a pawn. This scheme has been coming to fruition for many years.
Biggles: So tell us...?
Darth: I intend to recreate the universe of KILL.
Rouse: But how? The divergence from that timeline must have been years BEFORE 1776!
Darth: Fools! With implanted brain chip technology, I can control the minds of those important figures! (He gestures at the politicians)
Rouse: You fiend. But how will merely making an evil expansionist America remove the LICC?
Biggles: Not like that's so different from the real world anyway...
Rouse: Shut up Perce, that's enough of your radical politics. And besides, he also wants to make a republic of Britain.
Biggles: The perverted monster!
Rouse: You still don't get it, though, Angmar. You'll only create another alternate timeline. The LICC will still exist, and cross time and space to catch you.
Darth: No! For I have a device that will ensure I actually overwrite the existing timeline!
Biggles: Ooh, is it a big crystal?
Darth (puzzled): How did you know?
Biggles: Lucky guess.
Darth: Anyway, here it is!
(He unveils a giant, trigonal bipyramid-shaped translucent crystal that pulses with spectral light. In its centre is a glow somewhere between a DNA helix and a Moebius strip).
Darth: When I change history, it stays changed! Now I am off away to gloat!
(Rouse fires his blunderbuss at him, but the bullets just pass straight through and, laughing mockingly, the hologram of 'Darth Angmar' vanishes).
Rouse: Thinggit! How are we going to get out of this mess?
Biggles: Wait, I think the Spanish major is coming around.
Major: ¿Qué? ¿Dónde estoy? ¿Qué lugar es éste? ¿Quiénes son usted?
Rouse: Hang about, I know Spanish: 'Ethethetheth, ethethethetheth, Chris Wadddle'
Biggles (ignoring him): What is your name, Major?
The Major: I am the representative of his Majesty King Carlos III to the American rebels. My name is Don Juan...Tacoman.
(Off the Britons' horrified gazes...)
We need to get up to Calvin's throneroom. I'll deal with these guards.
Adon crouched down and seemed to vanish with a puff of wind. He reappeared on the far side of the group, staightened up, and sheathed his sword.
Then all of the guards' pants fell down, revealing a room full of boxer-wearing Calvinites and Voutarans (with one pair of tighty-whities showing.)
Lets go!
Up in the throne room, the pie and taco piles shake a little.
"Oh prease, rike threse things cun hold mree," says a muffled voice, emanating from one of the piles, "RrrrrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH."
The shells and pies suddenly fly off of Calvin as he knocks them away.
"Well, that was annoying. Activate Level Black!" As soon as he gives the order, forcefields pop up around every window and entrance except for the room's main door. The walls, floor, and ceiling also reinforce, preventing entry without the most powerful of blasts. Weapons pop out of the walls and fire at the other mounds, freeing Calvin's elite guards.
"Be alert, my loyalists. They are coming." The guards nod and take up several defensive positions around the room. Calvin also takes the helmet off and throws it aside. It only takes him a second to mentally locate Jackson.
"Did you really think that your little devices could stop me?" he telepathically tells Tacoman. "Pitiful. Greater men have tried better things. Your fate will be no better than theirs."
Calvin sits back in his throne and takes a deep breath.
"That should get him thinking."
An actress runs out and hugs Calvin
Nothing comes between me and my Calvin!
Rouse: Major Tacoman?!
Biggles: He must be planning to...alter the ancestors of the League, too.
Rouse: The monster!
Major Tacoman: ¿Qué?
Rouse: Shush Major, have a quick siesta.
Biggles (staring at the crystal): If only we could find some way to destroy it, then the timeline wouldn't be overwritten...
Rouse: Well, would he have left it in here with us if it was easily destroyable?
Biggles: Let me try. (He loads his howitzer and fires, sending a cannonball plunging toward the crystal where it impacts with a tremendous crash and BOOM. When the smoke clears the crystal is unharmed, although everything around it is blackened and hissing).
Rouse: Scratch Plan A, old chap!
(Suddenly the others wake up from the noise)
Medley: Where am I / where are we / what is this place? etc.
Rouse: Don't worry, gentlemen, we're British spies!
(Pause as the Americans all jump on top of them, followed by the British trying to drag them off and a punch-up ensues)
Biggles: That's another fine mess you've gotten us into, Cappers!
(Observer appears)
Fixing time problems is my domain.
(Begins summoning time powers to shatter the crystal)
Rouse, keep them off me for just a minute!
Where did he come from? Or should I say when?
OK, at least this way I won't have to hunt down a Quebecois man called M. Guillaume Chatneur de Montreal and ask him to sing 'Monsieur Homme de la Tambourine' or 'Lucie dans la ciel avec diamants'...
Biggles, give me a hand! Get that howitzer ready! And try to stop Washington arm-wrestling Cornwallis! I have a feeling our generic evil friend Darth Angmar could be back any second now!
I always wanted to give William Howe a wedgie.
Take this you traitorous republican!
(In the background the two sides hit each other with big sacks of salty tea and George III hurls his crown at Jefferson, who ducks but the crown ends up pinning a luckless Ben Franklin to the wall a la Aragorn at the end of 'the Fellowship of the Ring' film)
Arrr... Where be that Pepperman! Arr... Calvin, if ye be a-findin' Pepperman, HANDS OFF! HE'S MINE!!!
I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow the Yanks down!
enters the fray, rolling in huge cannon
Take this, jug-eared chinless stomach-eaters!
fires fusillade of Mom, baseballs and apple pies
(Stressed by uncanny time-restorative powers...the crystal begins to shake...then crack...)
(In the background, things are roughly even as Ben Franklin builds a rudimentary cattle prod out of coat hangers and uses it to electrocute Lord North, while Pitt the Elder suffocates Thomas Paine with his w(h)ig. Suddenly everything stops as Joseph Priestley appeals for everyone to get along, then pause as both sides hurl apple pies and scones - respectively - at him).
Meanwhile, a bunch of British Animal Rights activists are surrounding George Washington.
How dare you use ivory in your wooden teeth!!!
All too plausible...and in the UK it's called the RSPCA (Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals) BTW
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