Just then, as the trio (+ Pimpernel), stood there contemplating how they would find their nemesis Dr. Naughty, the solution literally bumped into them. A scrawny little pencil neck staggered backwards as he looked up to see a violence deprived gang of ruffians watching him eagerly. It was a mutual recognition between Pimpernel and the (SOLUTION).

Pimpernel: Well, well, well… if it isn’t Miklos.

Trauma ears turned a colorful shade of pink which usually meant he was starting to get slightly inebriated, or in this case really happy. As Miklos attempted to crab crawl backwards, Tito stomped on his chest and pinned him helplessly to the ground.

Miklos: mummumu-mm-mmm-muummm.

Pimpernel: Where is your master?

Without hesitation Miklos spilled the beans. After his twenty minute explanation, which was more than occassionally interupted with pleas of mercy, the trio stood and contemplated quietly. Well… Pimpernel contemplated seriously. Tito was grinding his combat boots into Miklos’s chest. Trauma accidentally thought about David Suzuki and shuddered at the scientific jargon that flooded his mind. He searched his pockets for tin foil, but the best he could do was a rusty Molson Canadian bottlecap. Vindicator flexed his ego, just to make sure it still worked. Dragon searched for Penelope. And Penelope was momentarially no where to be found.

Pimpernel: Okay Tito, I believe him. Let him go.

Tito: What? We out number him 5 to 1, and you want me to just let him go?

Pimpernel: He has served his purpose. There is no more to be gained from him.

Tito: Like hell! I say we bash his head in just to get our rocks off.

Trauma: I hear ya, brother!

Dragon: Wait! My Yoga powers sence that he is not telling the truth. That… or the beef jerky I bought off Baldrick.

A few more moments passed.

Trauma: I have an idea. I will get the truth from him.

Trauma walked up to Miklos and pulled him to his feet. He gripped Miklos’ face with his fingers and started concentarting.

Vindicator: What the hell are you doing?

Trauma: Its a little trick I picked up south of the border. Its called the Vulcan Mexi Melt(tm).

Vindicator: Excuse me?

Trauma: What it does is, it channels my bio-kinetic energy into a transferable force which flows from my body into his mind. The infussion of the bio-static charges fries his brain until it collapses into a half-pita, cheese filled fast food.

Vindicator: And the purpose of this is…?

Trauma: Just what I said.

Pimpernel: But wouldn’t that kill him? What possible use can that have?

Trauma (giggling): Too late…

Miklos slumped to the ground, the scent of three different spicy cheeses wafting through the air. Upon quick inspection, Pimpernel declared Miklos brain dead. The trio started on their way to the location given by Miklos.

Vindicator: (to Trauma) You did that on purpose.

Trauma: Tee Hee.

[writer - TRAUMA - Hows that? ]

Pimpernel: Well he told us enough. I really think you had him scared. When he started talking about what he did to his dead Grandmother…

Vindicator: He looked like a rabbit in a cosmetics lab!

Trauma: I say we go fetch the Caddy.

Pimpernel:  You have a car?

Trauma:  It’s not just a car.  It’s THE Car! Before we go anywhere I gotta make sure no primates are praying to the almighty haedlight gods because we left it sitting outside of the town.

Vindicator: We are not the most popular visitors back there.  I’m not a big fan of crazed villagers with pitchforks and torches…

Trauma: You worry too much.

Tito: Yeah! (munch) I never did get to “Ye olde Women’s Shelter”

Pimpernel: Tito, What are you eating?

Tito: A Mexi Melt(tm), why?

The vomiting was tremendous.

[writer - The Scarlet Pimpernel]

Trauma: ok, we’ve only got beef jerky for less than a day, no water, no J.D. we’ve got a walk of over 50 miles ahead of us and it’s all uphill, I say we get a move on.

Vindicator: damn, at least we had that lowly peasant Baldric with his donkey cart as transport before.

Tito: donkey cart?! Luxury! Why I remember walking 70 miles a day barefoot through minefields and abandoned glass factories to work in the lead mines for free. It was uphill both ways and there were hailstorms 3 times a week with hail as big as your head! At least I was happy.

Trauma: you candy-ass. I may not have been barefoot on my daily 90 mile trips but only because I had to wear rope sandals made out of razor wire and bomb shrapnel. Also I wore a backpack with 150 pounds of rocks in it the whole way. When it rained, which was always, I wore a steel helmet with a lightning rod on the top. My only pleasure came from the fact that the rain was actually typhus laced with sulfuric acid.

Vindicator: yeah really, once my car broke down and I had to walk almost 3 blocks to school.

Tito: Yep, so this should be a stroll through the park since we got plenty of beef jerky for the trip.

And so the Trio set off on their 50 mile trek across unfamiliar territory in renewed spirits confident that soon they would be back in the trusty Cahonemobile ready to resume their historic mission.

One mile down the road…

Tito: hey guys, we’re out of jerky. What the hell are we going to do now?

Meanwhile in another dimension, two sinister figures gazed into a viewscreen upon which the Trio was presently shown in their predicament.

Dr. Naughty: check out the wop putting away that beef jerky like there’s no tomorrow, Oh, how I hate them!

Erin Miklos: huhuhuh… I hate them, too.

(Erin Miklos, who had been brain-dead as a result of the vulcan mexi-melt had been cured through a minor operation involving a brain transplant from a gnat, there was even enough leftover gnat-brains to act as spare parts in case of future “mishaps”)

[writer - ????]

Dr. Naughty: They must be destroyed or else I know that despite their incredible stupidity, they will get in the way of my plans.

Merin Iklos: yeah, like, I almost would have killed them before but I…

Dr. Naughty: shut-up, you had your chance, this time I’m going to have the job done right.<reaches over and presses intercom button> Send in….”Him”.

The door to Dr. Naughty’s techno-magical inner sanctum slid open and in walked a huge figure dressed in black with heavy footsteps.

Eril Miknos: <Gasp!> Oh no! Not the hated MR. PUMPY!!!

Dr. Naughty: hehehe… Yes! Yes! Oh, what a rascal I am, nyuk, nyuk, nyuk! Okay, Mr. Pumpy, you see these troublesome personages on the viewscreen?

Enire Soklim: huuhuhuh, yup!

Dr. Naughty: shut-up, I was talking to Mr. Pumpy.

Mr. Pumpy silently nodded yes.

Dr. Naughty: Good! Now you know what I want you to do, and it ain’t prayin’… first, what you’ll do is…

Meanwhile, back at the trio…

Pimpernel: for the last time, I don’t have any jerky, Tito, and no, I don’t have any tinfoil, Trauma.

Trauma: did you check your pockets?

[writer - ...Tito Suave!!! ...it's going, someplace... ]

The time passed slowly for our intrepid heroes.  Almost as slowly as the miles. Eventually they came to the carrion-strewn field of their last battle with the peasants.  The vultures were circling high overhead, patiently waiting for the tresspassers to vacate their buffet.

Pimpernel: “Whew!  What a stink!”

The Vindicator: “There’s only about 5 miles to town.  We may encounter some of  the villagers soon.”

Dragon: “I’ll use my yoga powers of concentration to put an S.E.P. shield around us.”

Trauma: “What’s that?”

The Vindicator: “Don’t ask until you replenish your tinfoil supply.”

A few dogs barked as they walked on, but no-one seemed to notice them as they passed by the outskirts of the town.  At last their beloved Cahonemobile could be seen on the horizon.  They were almost there.

Dr. Naughty: “Keep going, fools.  Walk right into your own demise! Muahhahahaahahahaha!”

[writer - The Vindicator... Warming up. ]

After the 8-track had been successfully humbled by the pimpernel saving a couple magic the gatering cards into the inner workings.  The car was started and the trio headed toward the tower of Merlin the great(finally!).

Pimpernel: So why do you call yourselves a trio when there is four of you?

Dragon: Five (Penelope: B’ka)

Pimpernel: sorry, five.

Trauma:  Only three of us are really important.

Dragon:  Sorry you had to hear about it like this, Vindicator.

Vindicator:  Dragon.  I sense some kind of Yogic distortion.  There is great pain in your future.

Dragon:  Really I don’t sense any… ARGH! VINDICATOR GET OFF ME! UNCLE!

Off in the distance was a large black obsidean spire that went up, way up reaching for the clouds like sme great reaching thing.

Pimernel:  Is that the tower of Merlin?

Tito: It’s only a model.

Pimpernel: Shhh!

Just then in a great puff of lavender smoke that smelled of raisins and viniger, apperaed an old man in gray robes and an arrogant scowl.

Merlin: I am Merlin the Magnificent.  I have awaited your coming for almost thirty posts.  I knew that the day would come that the beligerant ones would one day cross my threshold.

Tito:  Listen mister, we were hoping…

Pimpernel: Let me talk to him.  This is my kind of people.

The pimpernel stood foreward and broke into a sharp shakesperian tone before Tito could object.

Pimpernel:  Oh great and powerful sorceror.  We have travaled many leagues to gain aid from your all encompassing wisdom the means to end our quest and right the grave injustices that have befallen our people.

Merlin:  Are you done?

Pimpernel: Yes

Merlin:  Good.  I can get you to the reality witch you seek, but first you must each pass individual tests of bravery and skill.  Come into my tower and the question shall begin…

Here’s the deal, we will each post our own characters individual test and then someone can start the story up again when we get to the other side

[writer -   That Damned Divisive Pimpernel ]

The Pimpernel Followed Merlin down into a deep cave that smelled like it was recycling the air from a meatlocker.  He clutched his well worn, lock stitched, indestructible Tilley hat close to his long black hair.  It had seemed like such a good idea before.  I mean, go through a dimensional portal, piss off an inter-dimensional arch- criminal and hook up with a bunch of ruffians that use you to open doors they think might explode.  Simple right? The Pimpernel was now hooked inexorably into a plotline that ran like Hitchhikers guide to the galaxy with the screenplay written by Quentin Tarintino.

Pimpernel:  So what’s this test like?

Merlin: Perilous.

The Pimpernel waited eagerly for Merlin to elaborate, but when the old wizard did not say another word he tried a less subtle approach.

Pimpernel:  So how do I pass this test?

Merlin:  You must follow this cave till it leads to the other end.

Pimpernel:  What’s at the other end?

Merlin:  The end.

Pimpernel:  Did you really mean that to sound ominous or was that just a funny little play on words for my benefit?

Merlin’s no nonsense stare was a source of much squirming on the Pimpernel’s behalf.  Merlin disappeared in a puff of smoke leaving The Pimpernel with no one to talk to but himself.  He thought about taking out the Star Trek novel out of one of the pockets in his coat he used for concealing various works of escapist literature, but felt he had best keep going down the hall.

Pimpernel:  I really hate talking to myself.

Pimpernel:  Really you could have fooled me.

Pimpernel:  Why are you so sarcastic all the time?

Pimpernel:  Will you guys be quiet? I cant hear myself

think!

After such a stern verbal chastisement the Pimpernel hurried on his way. He was barely a hundred feet down the corridor when the corridor expanded into what seemed to be a large English garden.  Sitting among the trees was a young blond woman wearing a skimpy revealing 18th century period dress that revealed her ample bosom.  She sat with a small pink dog between her legs that filled the Pimpernel with intense envy.

Woman:  Greetings, Traveler. I am Lady D’Grate.  What brings you to my father’s Manorhouse?

Pimpernel:  Any motives I had before seem pale when compared to the unexpected pleasure of your company.

Woman:  Oh dear!  My brother mustn’t hear you talk this way! Talk more softly.

Pimpernel:  I fear that any delay could reflect badly upon me.  My companions will no doubt be waiting for me…

Lady D’Grate frowned and bit her lower lip.  She lifted the small dog off her lap and stood meaningfully.  She walked over to The Pimpernel and put her hand on his shoulder.

Pimpernel:  Oh well, I wouldn’t have waited for them…

Woman:  Don’t talk, stranger…

Pimpernel:  If you insist Milady.

Woman: Please, call me Catherine.

The two collapsed onto the bed of grass and were startled by the yelp of the little pink dog they landed on. They started steaming up the jungle when all of a sudden a revelation occurred to the Pimpernel.

Pimpernel:  Wait a minute, your name is Catherine D’Grate?

The Pimpernel, despite all other biological distractions was forced to snicker.

Woman:  Do not belittle my house by mocking my family name! How dare you you base fiend!  My brother will make short work of you!

The woman shouted and shouted wile desperately trying to get her clothes back into a state where she could deny the whole thing.  Through the bushes rushed a burly man dressed like a barbarian.

Woman:  Peter!  This man was making improper advances toward me!

Pimpernel:  Oh boy…

Peter:  You dishonored my sister! now you die!

Pimpernel:  Look neighbor.  I don’t want and trouble.

Peter:  You will die now!

Pimpernel:  I can see your a reasonable man…

The large burly man tried to flatten the Pimpernel with a blow to the head but it hit the Tilley hat and deflected harmlessly away.

Peter:  You will pay for that!

Pimpernel:  I can’t win, can I?

The battle was long and hard, basically because The pimpernel never seemed to run out of Trees to put in the way of the fight.  All the time making belittling remarks about how foolish a fight this was.  It is all well and good to feel outrage about your sisters dishonor.  But Peter would be damned if he was going to waste a whole afternoon chasing around her latest stud.  Like a Like a baseball player on strike, Peter just up and walked away.

Pimpernel:  I guess I can win after all.

The Pimpernel continued on his quest.  He headed down the corridor and came upon Merlin standing at the mouth of the cave.

Pimpernel:  Can I leave?

Merlin:  You have to wait for the judges ruling.

Pimpernel:  What do you mean?

Merlin:  The test was set to measure your self control and fighting prowess.  The object was to resist Catherine’s advances and Defeat her brother.  You did these things but in a way that suggests a character of little willpower, no sensibilities and an intense cowardice.

Pimpernel:  Oh well, you can’t argue with results.

A scroll appeared in Merlin’s bony hand.

Merlin:  I can’t believe this!  The Judges allowed you to pass!

Pimpernel:  Those judges must know how to have fun.  If you will excuse me I have some belligerent ones to catch up with…

The End of The Test

[writer - ????]

Merlin returned to the audience chamber where the rest of the Trio were still waiting. Merlin pointed his staff at Tito and chuckled,”your turn, Chico.”

Vindicator: Where’s that damned <insert suitable adjective> Pimpernel?

Merlin: Your friend is safe (waves staff at wall mirror upon which an image of the Pimpernel playing a game of Magic, the gathering by himself in another part of the tower.

Tito accompanied Merlin down several passages. Finally Tito asked,” so, where are we going?”

Merlin: YOU are going to take your test and I’m sure you’ll fail.

Tito: Damn! I knew I shouldn’t have believed that wench back at the inn when she told me she was clean. I bet she gave me the clap, didn’t she?

Merlin stopped walking while Tito continued forward several more steps.

“I can’t answer that, but I will say that you strike me as a loudmouthed, loutish dullard,” said Merlin.

“Hey,” replied Tito,” I let that Chico crack slide but push your luck, staff-boy.”

Tito turned to face Merlin as he said this but Merlin, however, had disappeared and Tito suddenly found himself outdoors on a mountaintop held in the grip of a winter storm. He was now dressed as a circa World War One military aviator and he could see several meters in the distance the wreckage of what appeared to be a small dirigible that crashed on the mountaintop. In front of the wreckage huddled a group of men in almost similar uniforms to Tito’s. Tito trudged through the snow towards the group.

[writer -Tito Suave - with apologies to "The Red Tent and Red Skorpion" ]

One of the three huddled men stood up as Tito approached and addressed him.

“Captain, these are all the supplies we’ve recovered from the Hohenzollern,” he said pointing to several parcels at his feet.

“I think we should abandon the crash site and find shelter from this weather,” said another man.

Tito could now see how the uniforms differed. A crest on each tunic showed a different coat of arms underneath a nametag. Tito mentally noted his present company: WWI-era Germany – Schuller; Ottoman Empire – Murad; Kingdom of Bulgaria – Orlov. He scrutinized the insignia on his own uniform: Austro-Hungarian Empire – Tito. Murad had just spoken, preceded by Schuller. Schuller spoke again.

Schuller: No, we should remain with the wreckage. This storm is bound to break within a week at most at which time the great German zeppelin “Kaiser Wilhelm” will be sent to rescue us.

Orlov: But our food supply will only last for two days, three at most, we’ll probably be dead if and when help arrives.

Murad: there is nothing to forage or hunt for this high up. We must leave now before we are weakened to the point of having to place our lives on the chance of a zeppeling finding us.

The men looked to Tito for a final decision seeing as how he was presumably in command. After thinking a moment, Tito spotted a revolver among the recovered supplies and, picking it up he spoke to the men.

Tito: This is what we’re going to do. Schuller, you and Orlov will improvise a shelter out of pieces of the wreckage while Murad and I go investigate what looked like animal tracks that I saw while I was scouting around. I’m confidant that our food shortage will be somewhat alleviated when I return.

Tito and Murad trudged off leaving Orlov and Schuller behind.

Murad: (as they walk out of sight of the wreckage): I guess the attempt to have the Central Alliance be the first to successfully land an aircraft of Mount Everest is a complete failure. Don’t worry, Captain, my report to the Sultan won’t hold you as being solely responsible for the crash.

Tito: Hey, I think I saw something go behind that rock. Go around it; I’ll go the other way and when you flush it out, I’ll shoot it.

Murad, rube that he was, started in earnest to follow Tito’s directions. Tito wasted no time in retracing his steps after a couple of meters until he stood right behind the creeping Murad. The two point-blank shots from behind felled Murad almost instantly. After looting the body, Tito calmly walked back to the crash site.

[writer - ????]

As Tito approached the wreckage, Orlov and Schuller, who had heard the shots, stopped their work and looked at Tito.

Orlov: What happened? Where’s Murad?

Tito: he went berserk and attacked me, I shot him in self-defence.

Schuller: but he was unarmed.

Tito: he had a stick.

Orlov and Schuller just looked at him.

Tito: it was a pointy stick.

Schuller: you lied, you took him with you so it’d be easier to kill him.

Tito: I wasn’t lying. I said that our food situation would be improved when I came back. Now we have and extra two or three days of food between us.

Orlov: (charging Tito) you maniac! Let’s get ‘im! (Schuller charges also)

Tito get’s only one shot which fells Orlov who tumbles down the nearby cliff(Kurt) edge to his screaming death. Schuler knocks it down the mountain with Orlov before Tito can fire again and the two remaining men grapple fiercely. The two are fairly evenly matched and for several minutes, neither can gain an advantage.

Tito: (through clenched teeth) I’m going to kill you, German.

Schuller: …actually, my family emmigrated to Germany when I was small.

Tito: from where?

Schuller: Czechoslovakia.

A surge of HATE energizes Tito’s body and after pulling out his brass knuckles, lays a heavy punch to Schuler’s face. Schuler let’s go and brings both hands to his face. Tito regains his feet.

Tito: okay, Schuller, start walking.

Schuller slowly gets up but makes no step. Finally he looks up and sees the blood on his hands .

Schuller: You broke my fuckin’ nose.

Tito: I said MOVE, Czech bastard!

Tito punctuates his last order with a heavy brass shod haymaker to Schuller’s bloody face again with enough force to knock him over the cliff(Kurt) as well to join Orlov somewhere on the bottom.

Tito curses at only having been able to loot Murad’s body. The turk only possessed 25 drachmas and a membership to “Friendly Omar’s Turkish Baths” in Istanbul. Tito arrogantly swaggers to the improvised shelter built by the late Orlov and Schuller and sets himself to making himself comfortable as he starts to snack on his now more than ample rations. Mmmm, he comments upon seeing the

food selection availlable to him. Beef Jerky! Yum-mo!

Just then, the windblasted outdoors are replaced by stone walls and Merlin appears.

Tito: how was that? pretty good, eh?

Merlin: your performance was horrible. You were supposed to prove your loyalty, resourcefulness, courage by giving your men leadership in their dark hour. Instead, your actions wer selfish, cowardly, brutal and criminal.

As they reentered the main part of the tower, an owl delivered a letter to Merlin. As Merlin opened it he cast a suspicious eye on Tito,” and another thing, give back the stuff you pilfered from the test, whatever is missing comes out of my paycheque.”

Merlin looks at the letter and his jaw drops open.

Merlin: What!? Well, as I expected you got zip on performance and courage but somehow you squeeked by on points for creativity and artistic merit. You passed.

Tito: I passed? So, you mean, I don’t have the clap?

End of Marshal Tito’s Test

Merlin: Come, you are next.

Trauma followed Merlin down the winding corridors, the echoes of Merlins staff clicking rythmically as they went on.

Trauma: So whats my test?

Merlin: Your test, like your companions, will reflect a side of you which you have poor control over and must concentrate your efforts to rectify that situation.

Trauma continued to follow in silence, not knowing exactly what to say. In fact he hadn’t the slightest clue what Merlin had said. Damn! Never any tinfoil when ya need it!

They came to a halt outside a massive reinforced wooden door.

Trauma: So… whats behind the door?

Merlin: Your test.

Trauma: It would be nice to know what that is.

He cursed under his breath, hoping that this one would not ask and therefore not know what he must do, resulting in a guaranteed failure.

Merlin: You must learn to control your temper. Under no circumstances must you allow your anger to control you, or allow yourself to lash out in violence.

Trauma: Oh please… I have self restraint. My temper is not out of control. Just let me get this test over with, beard-boy.

And so Trauma opened the door and stepped through… right in the middle of a … Fine Crystal and Bone China Shop.

Trauma: What the fuck is this? Faggot shit?

Just then, from the behind the maze of glass shelving, filled with thousands of pieces of the mst expensive and delicate crystal, glass and china, the shop keeper called out.

Shop Owner: Yoo-hoo! Hello.

Trauma looked over and saw the dainty little wisp, coming towards him.

Shop Owner: How may I help you?

Fuck! Thought Trauma. That Merlin is a lousy little sneak. He never said anything about faggots!

Trauma: Don’t touch me.

Shop Owner: Excuse me?

Trauma: You heard me, queer-boy, don’t fucking touch me.

The shop owner was taken aback at such rude and politically incorrect behavior.

Shop Owner: humpf. Well, I never. This is my shop and I don’t have to tolerate this abuse from some half-witted neandrathal like you-

He didn’t even have time to finish his sentence. Trauma had grabbed him by the throat and was throttling him with a series of punches to the face. The ailses were overly narrow. Obviously specially designed for these types of shops. But Trauma was doing surprisingly well… he managed to beat the owner into unconciousness without even rattling the shelves. Quite proud of himself, he let the shop owner slump to the floor, and as he did the limp arm  nicked a ridiculously expensive  crystal glass. It wobbled and fell, smashing on the floor.

From above, Merlin’s voice boomed in laughter. “I knew you would fail!”

Well that was it! Trauma turned and tipped over a shelf, toppeling it onto the one beside it so as to create a domino effect. Crystal, glass and bone china crashed and shattered across the floor. Picking up the shop owner, he heaved him into a glass display case.

Trauma: You laughing at me? You fucking laughing at me? No one laughs at me, you fuck! Failed, eh? Fail this!

He stomped across the glass strewn floor, smashing the pieces into smaller pieces. He began kicking over al the shelves, and tipping the display cases. He picked up the shop owner and slammed him into some more glass cases. Trauma picked up a wooded chair from behind the cash counter and started smashing again.

Trauma: How do you like that? And that… and that… and that…?

Nearly half an hour passed before there was nothing else to break. The huge door opened and Trauma walked back into the gloom of Merlin’s Tower, still holding the splintered and busted chair.

Merlin stood there with a smug look on his face, holding a scroll which he was in the process of opening. As he scanned it, he jaw dropped and his smile faded.

Merlin: You… you… passed?

Trauma: Fucking, eh.

Merlin: You scored zero right across the board. However, the judges gave you full points because they hated that Shop Owner with a passion. He was always giving them grief with all his lobby for affirmitive action and gay rights, and all the donations he was gathering for green peace and the march of dimes.

Just as Trauma was about to head back to join the Trio, he stopped and turned back towards Merlin. Merlin began to sweat. Trauma walked past him to a shelf full of vials and flasks and various other alchemical equipment. Still eyeing Merlin, Trauma gripped the edge of the shelf case and pushed it over. The contents smashed and spilled across the floor. He then walked back and as he passed by Merlin again, he said:

Trauma: And thats fo laughing at me, spell-boy.

[writer - TRAUMA - The End of Trauma's Test. ]

“You’re next,” said Merlin, as he poked The Vindicator in the ribs with his staff.

The Vindicator: “Hey Merlin!  What’s that staff doing stuck halfway up your ass?”

Merlin: “Oh no, I’m not falling for that!  Just follow me.”

Merlin led The Vindicator down the hallway, into a darkened room.  In the room was a small wooden table upon which sat a candle.  The dim light produced by the candle was just enough to illuminate the door on the opposite side of the room.

The Vindicator: “What now?”

Merlin: “Just go throw that door… All will be made clear soon.”

The Vindicator: “What if I choose not to go?”

Merlin: “Then you die here.”

The Vindicator: “Hmm…  Nice lookin’ door.  Mind if I try it?”

The Vindicator turned the doorknob and the room began to twist around him, as if reality had been bent a millionth of a degree.

When the teamster with the jackhammer left his head, The Vindicator realized that he was in a dark, noisy nightclub somewhere.

Women in tight leather outfits were rubbing up against overly-hairy men on the dancefloor… Off to the right, some chick was rubbing up against some geek playing Mortal Kombat.

Seeing a gorgeous blonde at the bar, [writer - The Vindicator made his move.  A quick blast of binaca and he was in motion.

The Vindicator: "Hey baby, wanna dance?"

Blonde Chick: "Sorry, I don't dance with dorks."

The Vindicator: "'Scuse me... I didn't realize there was a lesbian convention in town."

The Vindicator mosey'd across the dancefloor (as only the truly arrogant can), eyeing women and laughing at all the smaller guys.

"Hey baby," he said to a cute brunette in a white blouse and jeans, "wanna dance?"

Chick #2: "Fuck off."

The Vindicator: "M-O-O-N.  That spells Dyke!"

Strutting up to the bar, [writer - The Vindicator bumped into a fabulous red-head...

"Hi.  Wanna dance?", he said.

Red-Head: "Do I look desperate to you?"

The Vindicator: "No.  You look like a cheap whore."

He ordered a Molson Dry and leaned casually against the bar for a moment.

The Vindicator: "Too bad all these chicks are queer... We could have had a good time."

Suddenly, The Vindicator was back in the room with the candle on the table.

Merlin stood behind him grinning.

A small, winged monkey handed him a scroll, which Merlin read.

Merlin: "I can't believe this!"

The Vindicator: "What?"

Merlin: "You passed!  The whole test was designed to display your tremendous ego as a negative trait, but the judges felt that anyone who could get turned down by women as often as that, and STILL think they're the centre of the Universe deserves to pass.  It also says that the judges have alot of trouble with dykes at the bars."

The Vindicator: "So that's it?"

Merlin: "Yes."

The Vindicator: "Damn... I didn't get to finish my beer."

[writer - The Vindicator - finally.]

Tito ran around the bar several times before he finally snatched Dragon’s chicken as a living shield.  This normally wouldn’t have detered Trauma in the slightest if Dragon hadn’t been forced into the Melee by Penelope’s danger.  With the help of Vindicator, who sensed the imminent breakdown of party unity, Trauma was temporarily restrained.

Tito:  Trauma, chill!  I got a lot of mad money out of that sap.

Trauma:  You better either have enough to replace that bottle, or your intestinal track.

Tito:  I have enough to keep you pissed all week.

Vindicator: There is more ale in this time period than drinking water.

This interesting fact seemed to improve Trauma’s mood, and together the companions had a lovely evening of Drink and debauchery.

Later that evening, Dragon felt his Yoga Powers trying to tell him something, a low irritating buzz in his head that sounded like an oven timer.  At first he thought it was just a hangover but then it became more distinct. He began to feel like someone had been using his eyeballs to place their golf tee’s and

play through.  He got up and hurried to Vindicator’s room.

He rushed through the door and Vindicator Sat up suddenly, sending the naked young woman that was on top of him crashing to the floor.

Vindicator: Didn’t you know Koresh punishes little boys who go where their not wanted.

Dragon:  I feel a Yogic Distortion Field of massive intensity forming around this Bar.  It’s really trippy, I think something really shitty is about to happen.

Vindicator:  That’s not much to go on, Dragon.

Dragon: I think it’s enough reason to get going though.

Vindicator:  I guess we will have to inturupt Trauma, Tito and their five friends…

Dragon: After you.

Dragon and Vindicator were headed down the hall past a window when Dragon noticed that he was squinting for a reason other than his newfound migrane. He looked out the window and felt the sunlight streaming past him.

Dragon: Vind, Didn’t the sun go down three hours ago?

Vindicator:  We’ve been temporally translocated.

Dragon:  I’m not the one who is going to tell Trauma.

Penelope: Buk B’ka

Vindicator: You said it!

Sorry guys, but I’m not ready to wait Two weeks.  Call it beginers enthusiasim.  Besides you can see another peice of my work while you resolve your busy schedules.

[writer - That Damned Continuing Pimpernel ]

Yes indeed, some major weird shit was going on around the small village – more than usual when Baldric was in town. As Vindicator and Dragon made their way down the hall of the tavern/inn to find the rest of the Trio, something unusual was going on outside the tavern.

Behind the tavern stood an outhouse with about five people waiting in line impatiently to avail themselves of the facilities. At long last, Tito swaggered arrogantly out with a newspaper tucked under his arm. He grinned at the first man in line, an elderly gent, and said to him,” she’s all yours, admiral.” He walked back towards the inn, intent of resuming his wenching.

[writer – Tito -damn, out of time, will continue in next post... ]

Before he went in, he was momentarily distracted by a spectacle on the street. A man dressed in tattered rags had a pair of stained y-front gachis on his head, an unbent coathanger in his hand with a dead pigeon taped to the end of it. He ran up the street clumsily periodically hopping on one or both feet and shrieking at the top of his lungs,” I’m a wizard! I’m a wizard! I’m a wizard!” This man was none other than the hated Goliath (cameo bill is in the mail). Tito didn’t recognize Goliath underneath all that grime but one day the story of how Goliath saved humanity by inadvertently destroying the DeathStar of the previous story will eventually be told. Tito mumbled something about bringing back caning and stepped towards the door of the bar. Suddenly, the sky brightened and Tito spun around on the heel of his slick Italian dress shoes, looked up at the sky and gasped,”whut the…”

Meanwhile, inside the bar, Trauma was building up his resistence to time-space anomalies, in other words, drinking heavily with a crowd of local bumpkin onlookers interspersed with some fine wenches. Some of the uglier ones were hanging on his sides trying to get him to take them back to his room. In all, it was a typical night at a bar for Trauma. Baldric was rushing around the bar getting the last few drops out of empty drinks and pouring them into a flask, (all the time thinking how he could sell it and give all the money to his dear friends:Tito, Trauma, et. al.) The barkeeper finally spotted him and exclaimed,” Hey! Freako! I said to stay out of here! Nick, I think this weirdo needs some help leaving.”

Some large skinhead picked up Baldric and kicked him down the two steps leading out the door of the inn. The barkeeper walked over to Trauma’s table and said,” hey, it’s about time you paid your bar tab, stranger.”

Trauma looked up and just grinned at him with his glazed eyes indicating his degree of intoxication. That one look was enough to speak volumes to those who were acquainted with this particular form of body language.

“So we got a deadbeat on our hands, eh, NICK!” the barkeeper shouted. Trauma stood up as Nick approached being equal to him in height. A few moments passed but Nick strangely felt his urge to  pummel Trauma melt away as if by magic. There was something about this stranger, he thought, that gained a respect for him from Nick. Trauma felt the same way just more groggily. Nick realized he could see it in Trauma’s eyes. It was a simple statement: I am an asshole. Both Trauma and Nick slowly backed off from each other. Nick said in a low voice,”…not here, this bar is unworthy, but eventually…” Trauma staggered severely out the door barely aware of his surroundings ,”what did that punk say?” he thought, “something like, `not me, the toilet’s not working…’ oh well”.

Outside his eyes passed from the sight of Baldric lying unconscious in a puddle of sewage, past Tito who was nearby looking up, past Goliath disappearing down the street, up to the sky where he took several moments to focus on. At the same time, Dragon, Penelope and Vindicator emerged from the

tavern and the assembled Trio stood almost dumbfounded at what they saw.

Dragon: sweet Koresh! It’s worse than I thought!

Trauma: (with hand in pocket) I thought I didn’t bring my magic acorns, no wait, (sheepishly) I didn’t.

Baldric: Unhhh… uh, guys, I think my spine is broken… guys?

Penelope: (excitedly) buk buk bka!?

Vindicator: I was going to say what it is, but after the chicken, forget it!

Tito: you guys see it too, eh? Good, I thought I drank the knockout drops I poured in that wench’s drink inside the bar. Phew! What a relief!

[writer -Tito (okay, Pimpernel, so what IS it?) ]

As the hours whittled away, the Trio found themselves getting bored. In the mean time, Trauma’s liver had absorbed much of the alcohol and he was starting to focus without much strain.

Tito: ” Well, I’ve had as much excitement as I can handle… so I’m going back inside.”

Peering at them from the cracks in the outhouse wall, and unbeknownst to them was Goliath. He had secured his pigeon-coathanger wand into his rope belt and was giggling quietly to himself. He was sweating with nervousnous.

Goliath: “So you think your so tough eh? You don’t look like much. I bet I could-” Goliath quickly moved his eye away from the space in the wood. “They are looking this way.!”

Suffice it to say, Goliath was mad. He had become a raving lunatic. But that is another story. And one day it shall be told.

NOTE: Goliath’s story WILL be posted one day in the short story base. For background information: Goliath was last seen in Oz during the attack of the winged monkeys. He disappeared following a black robed man pushing a shoady stone alter on mix-matched wheels.

The Trio re-enterd the bar. Not surprisingly the scene was slightly altered. It was packed with people. Strange as it appeared, it did not deter them from mingling.

Trauma was short on money and he was very thirsty, but he had no money. Then it came to him! He walked up to two simpletons sitting at a table.

Trauma: “Excuse me gentlemen. But I would like to make you a proposition.”

Clem: “Beat it.”

Bubba: “Yeah… Didn’t you see the sign?”

The third man was passed out on the table top. But he was buying the drinks. Trauma was about to leave, seeing as they weren’t interested. As he turned his back, they opened their mouths.

Clem: “Hey! I didn’t say you could leave.”

Trauma stopped.

Bubba :Hey Freako! Didn’y you hear my brother? Har har.”

Tito was on the other side of the bar in a dark booth. After half an hour and an entire vial of knock out drops, Tito’s night of wenching was a success. Five buxom babes were propped up across the table  from him and he was trying to decide which one he would defile first using the eenie-meenie-mynie-moe method. Suddenly there was a distinct sound. Not just anyone could hear it. Only a special kind of person could make out this sound. Tito’s ears perked up and he took a sniff. Yup. There was also a scent that accompanied the sound. There was gonna be a scrap. At the same moment, Nick the scar-faced skinhead came out of the back room, sniffing the air.

Vindicator was not in the bar. He was in a room upstairs. He was naked, groggy and strapped down with hemp rope. His own underwear was balled up into his mouth. As he came too, he remembered what happened. A mighty ugly looking barmaid approached him, making lude advances, which Vindicator brushed away. He watched her go over to Tito and strike up a conversation. They exchanged something and she returned in moments. Smiling she gave him his flaggon of ale. Vindicator looked about the darkened room. On the nightstand he saw a vial of Tito’s knockout drops! The door opened and the ugly wench stood siloheutted in the light.

Bar maid: “I know what you are thinking. But you cannot answer me because of your gag. My name is………. Lola!”

He had not known panic until this moment. And he was sure he would be introduced to many more horrors in the next few hours.

Through the window, Goliath watched in a feverish sweat.

Goliath: “I see you sitting there. Thinking you’re so bad. You’re not so- uh, ooo ooo… they’re looking this way.”

Penelope tilted her head and stared at a spot on Dragon’s lapel. Dragon was sitting across from a tall skinny man with a lazy eye. This was quite a new experience for Dragon, for he had never before seen the lazy eye phenomenon.  The man would stare at Dragon with one eye while the other one twirled in its socket. For hours they sat staring at each other. Penelope took a quick peck at the spot. Dragon’s eyes widened at what happened next. The tall skinny man’s good eye slowly slipped out of its socket and fell onto the table, and rolled towards Dragon. Penelope watched the glass eye roll. There was no

change in the man. His lazy eye must also be blind.

Dragon eagerly made faces at the disabled gent, growing bolder and bolder. He also snatched the glass eye and pocketed it. Penelope was slightly miffed at that, but soon forgot what it was she was miffed at and began staring at nothing in particular.

[writer - TRAUMA - Groovy. ]

Trauma looked at the inbread louts and toght of millions of witty curses and rips he could heap on them. He prepared to go to work on them but something in their vacant stares made trauma think his repartee would fall on deaf ears.  Trauma reconsidered and settled for a shot to the face instead.  It was brief, provoking and very satisfying.

The other brother(Clem)  took offense to this and attempted to clock Trauma on the back of the head when he was smashed in the temple by a well thrown glass eye, courtesy of Dragon.

The Brothers apparently had a larger family than was first assumed, however.  Six more inbread louts stood crying for Trauma’s blood.  It was a mess indeed.  Dragon, who was attempting to block the blows raining down on his skull with his Yoga powers was being beaten the worst.  Trauma took out

the two after him with a quick sucsession of shots from his spiderman Pez dispenser.  After that he decided to take a moment and drink one of the brother’s disgarded ales.

Tito was having an easy time with his brother who was too stupid to realize he was strong enough to tear the chair out of Tito’s hands.  He instead continued to allow Tito to use the chair as a shield against the worst of his blows.  It was Trauma’s Ale glass on the back of his neck that ended the fight.

Trauma:  Do you think we should Help Dragon?

Penelope:  Buk Buk!

Tito:  Not if I start having to speak after the chicken!

Penelope:B’ka!

Tito:  You know Dragon is too busy getting mauled to stop me from frying your little but!

Penelope:—

Dragon meanwhile had successfully used the Yoga mind trick to make the brothers think he was too pathetic to beat on.  All he had to do is lie immoble and bleeding on the floor.  The brothers took off out of the bar in a hurry.

Trauma: Should we follow?

Tito: Nah! The weird thing that everybody refuses to describe is out there.  It’ll make short work of them.

There was a short indescribable noise outside as the brothers were eliminated from concern.

[writer - That Damned Overdue Pimpernel ]

With a satisfying feeling, they were just about to return to there earlier activities, (all except Dragon, who was unaware that he was actually using his yoga powers to simulate his unconcious condition) Penelope snuggled close to his face, starring in wide eyed fear of any indication that large one who

smelled of crisco was coming for him. That was all soon forgotten as the glass eye rolled past Penelope. She quickly darted after it.

Suddenly a voice said behind them, “You’re not getting out of this that easily.” Trauma and Tito turned, wearing ever smug looks on their faces. That is, until they actually turned around. Standing in the open back doorway were about a dozen men clad in black pants, stripped black and white shirts with black suspenders and portions of make up still caked in the pores of their faces.

Trauma: “Fuck.”

Tito: “Mimes.”

At that moment Vindicator appeared at the top of the stairs in shredded clothing and torn duck tape hanging from his cheek.

Vindicator: “Animal! She’s and animal!!”

And just as suddenly he was yanked backwards, wide eyed and obviously terrified. However, Tito and Trauma had other things on their mind. Trauma smiled at the mimes as he searched for his doornob loaded sock, and wondered if he remembered to turn his jockeys inside out? Tito reached for his

brassknuckles and frowned at the prospect that, by the time the fight was over the knockout drops would have worn off.

As if nothing else could go wrong, it did. A temporal anomily appeared behind them, discarding a plethora of bar room combatants.

Dragon remained under dedicated yoga concentration.

Penelope had finally cornered the glass eye.

The owner of the glass eye had finally discovered that it was missing and made a replacement by rolling up a wad of tinfoil and jamming it into the socket.

Vindicator… well he was in trouble.

[writer - TRAUMA - Sorry... couldn't resist. ]

Tito and Trauma stood motionless facing the horde of hated mimes in that eerie sort of calm before the coming storm. They swayed menacingly. A few of  the mimes tried to demoralize the two with quick renditions of “man carrying  invisible piano”. It didn’t work but it gave Tito a few moments to think. He  turned to Trauma and said,” it looks bad, we’ll fight back-to-back – you can

take this half (gesturing towards mimes).”

“Ok,” came Trauma’s reply and Tito gleefully turned to face what he  presumed to be the vacant rear of the inn. Unfortunately for him, the temporal  anomaly mentioned in the previous post had strewn several rather large and  green Vogons around the rear of the inn. They saw him and lined up to give

Tito one of their world-renowned “beat ‘im till he screams like a woman” thrashings.

Several more moments passed and now some mimes were doing their “man walking into the wind” routines and still no fight. Trauma felt his arms getting stiff from standing rigidly in his belligerent stance and could wait no more. He had improved on his sock-and-twin-doorknobs design and now swung around a table cloth that had two brass spittoons in it as he waded into the crowd of mimes angrily.

Tito looked over his shoulder and witnessed this and turned back to face the Vogons who used this to trigger the start of their onslaught. Just then a semi-clad Vindicator appeared at the top of the stairs and screamed,” Oh god! she has “Erin Miklos was here” tattooed on her heinie.”

The Vogons were momentarily distracted and Tito took his chance. Baldric, was just staggering by after a wandering holy-man miraculously cured his spinal damage didn’t have time to look up when Tito labeled him with a brass-shod haymaker which floored the hapless Baldric almost instantaneously.

After shattering a glass bottle he began to jump up and down on Baldric’s chest, driving glass shards deeper into his flesh while loudly saying,”take that, Tito, you well-dressed, smart-mouthed thorn in the side of all peace-loving Vogons everywhere.”

The Vogons didn’t buy it, though and the pack of them set upon Tito as well as the stricken Baldric who they were going to pummel as well, just for the hell of it.

[writer  -Tito  ...it just keeps getting better... ]

The Vorgons were pummeling Tito and Baldric, eventually getting the grand idea that they could use Baldric as a blunt innstrument to do even more damage to the marshal.  It was again becoming uncomfortably warm as Tito’s hate burned like a ciggarette soaked in lighter fluid.

Trauma began to be buffeted by the invisible wind.  It was little comfort that the mimes seemed equially affected.  One really big mime approaced with an invisible piano and prepared to swing it.  Trauma was suddenly seized with an extreamely ludicous plan.  Trauma’s hand shot out and grabbed a metalic object that the mime had conceiled in his back.  The mime gave a look of horror as his movements became increasingly sluggish and he dropped the piano with a silent crash.  His limbs started to stiffen until he eventually froze once “Robot winding down” was compleate.  Trauma looked up with great triumph and disbelief only to look away quickly when he noticed the anomoly in the

corner.

Vindicator, who was watching from the stairs.  Happened to notice that five figures, three of which were severely beaten, were emergeing from the anomoly.  One was a strage young man dressed in red jeans and tie and a long regal looking cape.  He had a pony tail and glasses.  The rest of them were

what made Vindicator gasp.  They were beat up versions of Tito, Vindicator and Trauma.

Second Trauma: So Pimpernel, did we take a wrong turn?

Second Tito:  Yeah, this place looks like a dump!

First Pimpernel(ever):  Of course not… This is just a really interesting route, thats all.

Vindicator(the real one?): Alternate realities too!  We better get the book of time before nothing is sacred!

Second Vindicator:  I knew he was going to say that!

Just then a small thirty day old donut came rolling through the anomoly.  Penelope darted after it, seeking a new chalange after humbling the glass eye.  Penelope soon discovered that Fifty humgry french republicans were also intent on the donut.  The rush came hurtling through the warp and the fun

really started.

[writer -  the Pimpernel--  you thought it was just an audition, didn't ya?  (I'll be copying your signature lines next!) ]

Dragon awoke from his near coma-induced state.  He had a REVELATION!!  Through his deep, trance he discovered the perfect solution to get out of this setting, find Merlin, enlist his help to track down Mr. Naughty, retrieve the book, and save the Universe(again).  As he sat up and opened his eyes, he noticed a herd of badly dressed rebuplicans chasing after a 30-day old donut and promptly forgot all about his dream-insight.

Noticing the rest of the chaos, he decided it was time for some action.  His Yoga only took him so far, since it currently had no solution he fell back on his trusty correspondance Super-Hero training.  Slinking off to a nearby corner, he looked up.  Yup, just where he left it before the fight.

Up in the corner was a package covered in spider webbing.  Sneaking a quick look to make sure noone saw him, he noticed Trauma swing at a Mime but slipped on the same ‘banana peel’ that the mime did, and in doing so clocked one of the Vogons about to pummel Tito.  The Vogon fell backwards into a group of Mimes who dissapeared in a puff of smoke.

Trauma: Huh?

Tito: Huh?

Dragon snatched the parcel and quickly opened it up.  taking out a pair of red long-johns, he donned his trusty suit.  Of course, the only way into it was through the ever-so-handy butt flap.

Baldric continued to bleed to death.

Penelope abondend her chase upon seeing incompentent government officials after the donut and wandered to peck at Baldric.

Vindicator crawled onto the top of the stairs with a grave warning for one-and-all to heed by”  Be afraid….be very afraid…..” before being dragged back slowly.  In the background you could hear “I’m not finished with you lover-boy….”

Dragon:  Damn buttons….they’re so hard to get undone!

Trauma: “This is ridiculous!  Let’s get out of here!”

Tito:  ”Right!  Ummm…how do we do it” while ducking from a blow by the nearest Vogon.

Trauma(while bashing another Mime): “Like always!” *Clang*

Tito: “Oh, you mean jump into that!”  pointing at the anomoly

Trauma: Are you crazy?  We’re gonna do it like any other craven-cowards/heros!  Out the back door!

With a mad dash, they made their way through the kitchen.  Tito saw the that lucious wench on his way though and gave her butt a good squeeze.  The mad-mob of patrons followed as best they could.  Dragon had finally opened the butt-flap!  ”Ah HA!  Got it!”

[writer -     Dragon -    Anyone else car to carry on?<EG> ]

The fighting was carried out into the street. The Nameless Phenomenon was still lurking dangerously about, yet no one knew why it was so dangerous. All that is… except Goliath. However, he was quite preoccupied with trying to unhook the pigeon from his belt.

A brass-shod backhand sent a Vogon staggering backwards, while a hefty blow from a swinging blanket loaded with two spitoons incapacitated a mime. It was only a matter of time really. Both the mimes and the Vogons teamed up and charged the two heroes as they fought back to back.

Tito: You realize… I hold Vinidcator totally responsible.

Trauma: I agree.

Just emerging from the tavern/inn, the duplicates of Trauma, Tito, Dragon and Vindicator along with the Scarlet Pimpernel watched the fight.

Second Trauma: Oooo! A fight!

Second Tito: Give ‘em the chair! The Chair!

At that moment… a red pajama clad Dragon appeared on the rooftop.

Dragon: Dum dum-dum! Oops…

A loose shingle set him flailing off the roof and ontop of the Vogon-Mime forces. With this much needed help… Trauma and Tito quickly pummeled them into unconsciousness.

From a second story window, with an explosion of glass, Vindicator fell screaming.

Up the street Goliath finally freed his wand.

Goliath: I’ll show them! I really am a wizard! I’ll burn their fucking house down!

He quickly galloped up to the tavern/inn and began chanting and waving his wand.

Moments later Baldric managed to drag his body out the door and into the street as well.

Now that everyone was gathered outside, and the nameless anomoly was outside, they stared dumbfounded as to what they would do next.

[writer - TRAUMA - Groove U. ]

NOTE: The following is a list of all the characters currently involved in the story.

Trauma, Marshal Tito, Dragon, Vindicator, the Chicken, Goliath, Scarlet Pimpernel, Baldrick, (Trauma/Tito/Dragon/Vindicator duplicates)

… I think its time for some hack and slash.

[writer - ????]

The Characters stood ready to confront the Nameless phenomenon when The pimpernel had a sudden revalation.

Pimpernel: I understand! I figured it out!

Vindicator: So how do they get the soft flowing Caramilk…

Pimpernel: No, don’t you see! you are the Beligerent ones, but you have to go through the portal to 18th century France, because there you meet me and figure out how to get back here!

Second Vindicator: That is pretty much how you will remember it when you become me.  You are us only before we got to where we are now.

Trauma: If you think I’m going through that portal just to rationalize the existance of someone who looks just like me only with better hair. Forget it!

Second Trauma: Actually that’s just because your hair is all matted with blood. We wash that off long before…

Second Vindicator:  Look Trauma! I mean the first Trauma.  What you are suggesting is that you go against the timeline that has been presented to us and if that happen there would be a paradox of unimaginable preportions.

Trauma: (Looking unconvinced) Tell me if you are Vindicator from the future, then we already had this conversation, right?

Second Vindicator: right.

Trauma: Did that argument convince me last time?

Second Vindicator: No

Trauma: Then why did you try it if you knew I would be unconvinced?

Second Vindicator: Because last time this circular nonsence distracted you long enough for Tito to clock you!

Tito obligingly knocks Trauma cold. The second Trauma then clocks Tito.

Tito: Hey!

Second Trauma: You hit me, I hit you back.

Tito: I didn’t hit you, I hit him (indicates the unconscious Trauma)

Second Trauma: He is me!

Tito: But… Oh yeah.

Just then the second Tito tackles the Second Trauma and Tito decides to join in and togeter the Tito’s start to pummle the now outnumbered Trauma.

Second Vindicator:  I guess I couldn’t expect it to go better the second time through.

[writer - That Damned Cyclical Pimpernel ]

As the two Titos were laying a thrashing on the second Trauma, the two Vindicators and the two Dragons eyed each other suspiciously.

1st Vindicator: (to 2nd Vin & 2nd Dragon) Um, should we be, like, beating you up or something?

2nd Vindicator: (thinks a moment before answering) No, but I’ve been meaning to tell you something. You’re always making stupid comments like that and it really bugs the hell out of me. Smarten up,                for crying out loud!

Vindicator was stunned at being insulted by his own double and was struck momentarily speechless.

2nd Vindicator: I just said that to get even for being insulted by my double back when I was in your place.

By this time, Titos #1 and #2 had beaten Trauma #2 to unconsciousness and were now congratulating each other on a well-delivered beating.

1st Tito: It’s lucky I stepped in when I did or else you’d have got thrashed and made me look bad.

2nd Tito: Are you kidding? If I didn’t take him from behind like I did, he’d have kicked your sorry ass 5 ways to France without even using the <UNEXPLAINED PHENOMENA>.

1st Tito: We’ll see who’s tougher, punk. First I’m gonna grab Trauma’s double’s spittoon-flail. Then I’m gonna kick your ass quickly followed by me returning to my wenching. I’m NOT going through anymore <UNEXPLAINED PHENOMENA> – I’m way too “hep” for that.

When he finished speaking he turned and bent down to pick up 2nd Trauma’s discarded spittoon flail. As he picked it up he realized it was different. Unfolding it he saw that it was actually a bloodstained French Republican Tricolour flag holding a pair of 8 pounder cannonette balls. While he was busily examining this find, Tito #2 had crept up behind him and crowned him with a brass shod fist.

As Tito #1 lay on the ground fading from consciousness, Tito #2 stood grinning over him.

2nd Tito: Never turn your back on yourself, Tito, that’s a lesson you taught me (rubs his own head)

The three remaining doubles plus the Scarlet Pimpernel (the one and only?) turned to the remaining original Trio, Vindicator and Dragon.

2nd Dragon: Now, my incredible Yoga powers of deduction tell me you have 2 choices:

1. go through the <UNEXPLAINED PHENOMENA> carrying your friends

or

2. be thrown through the <UNEXPLAINED PHENOMENA> along with your friends in an unconscious state.

2nd Penelope: (menacingly) B’ka!

[writer - That damned ultimatum delivering Pimpernel: Well, which shall it be? ]

Vindicator and Dragon looked at each other and considered the question. The choices were either knuckle under to superior numbers and slink through the <UNEXPLAINED PHENOMENA> like a pair of spineless cowards…or…to give these so-called double smartasses the thrashing of their lives for laying cheap shots on their friends in an heroic and violent fashion. A smile spread across their faces. Their choice was simple…

Moments later, Vindicator and Dragon had crossed the <UNEXPLAINED PHENOMENA> carrying their unconscious friends into what was presumably the countryside in 18th century France.

Vindicator: I was going to kick their heads in but I didn’t want you to get hurt with that wounded arm of yours and all.

Dragon: Yeah, I promised my correspondence-Yoga-Sensei I wouldn’t resort to violence unless it was absolutely necessary, sorta-like Chuck Norris in Lone Wolf McQuade. Y’know…

Momentarily Tito and Trauma came to and the Trio surveyed their surroundings, noticing the absence of the <UNEXPLAINED PHENOMENA> much to the relief of Trauma who hadn’t had a chance to refill his bottle of Jack Daniels yet.

[writer  - Tito  -ok, everyone back to work... ]

The four heros watched their earlyer selves step through the <UNEXPLAINED PHENOMINA> and into 18th century France. Tito picked up a rock to throw through the portal so he could make Trauma all queasy from the time distortions. But was stopped by [writer - That Damned Interrupting Pimpernel.

Pimpernel: Don't litter in alternate realities, it's impolite.

Tito: Who are you anyway?  We're minding our own business...

Pimpernel: Getting lynched by a mob of unwashed republicans...

Tito: When Mr. High-and-Polite Pimpernel starts tagging along after us!

Pimpernel: Actually I was holding you up so you wouldn't fall over from that thrashing the Revolutionaries gave you.

Tito: look whos expository flashback is this?

Pimpernel: There is a perfectly plausable explaination...

Vindicator:  Which story are you in?

Pimpernel: Ok there is a contrived pseudo-scientific explanation rife with inconsistancies.

Trauma: Now your talking...

Pimpernel:  I'm from the same reality as you four.  I was sent here to find the beligerent ones so I can stop Dr. Naughty from destroying all of Space-Time.

Dragon: My Yoga powers say that you are lying!

Pimpernel: Well I'm not.

Dragon: Really?

Pimpernel: I'm afraid so.

Dragon: Damn!

Pimpernel: Sorry to disappoint you.

Dragon: Don't worry about it...

Pimpernel: You had a fifty-fifty cahnce of being...

Dragon: Back off!

Vindicator:  So how do We find Dr. Naughty?

Sorry about taking the next post guys but I wanted to get back in the swing.  Now lets see where this goes.

[writer - That Damned Open ended Pimpernel ]

Note:  You will note, upon reading, that the story is not quite in a ‘novel’ format but more of a play really.  The idea is that with so many authors and many different idea running through our minds, it was just not possible to write it completely in a novel form.  Actually we were just too lazy and wanted to get our ideas out<G>.  I have edited it somewhat to make it easier to read and, believe it or not, coherent.  Take all out of place instances as part of the story.  The author of each part appears within brackets at the end of his segment.

They watched the monkeys closely. That was their mistake. The monkeys had been an obvious distraction from the true assault force. From behind them they heard a cry. It was THE Dragon and C-9!

THE Dragon: Watch out!

Turning quickly they saw the threat. Creeping at them from all around were Mimes! Scores upon scores of Mimes!

And so… As the Trio are now reunited (THE Dragon, Vindicator, Tito, Trauma, Goliath and C-9) The direction of this story by no means any closer to being concluded or understood.

The battle raged… and the Mimes swarmed the adventures, and monkeys kept dropping beer bottles. Of course Trauma and Tito were faring much better then the others. However, these Mimes seemed to be unaffected by conventional physical beatings. In the distance a Mime made a motion like he was throwing a lasso. Moments later THE Dragon was roped and being dragged.

Vindicator was suddenly hit by an idea. Getting back to his feet and brushing off the coat, he frustratedly tossed the damnable scarf over his shoulder.

Reaching into his gymbag… digging past the towel, binaca and inflatable helicopter he pulled out several large…. fish! Tossing them to others they commenced in a counter strike that drove the Mimes fleeing into the woods. Running out of beer bottle, the monkeys also retreated. But not before pulling THE Dragon away at the end of an invisible rope.

Vindicator: We gotta rescue him!

A long silent pause…

Trauma : Why?

Another long silent pause…

Vindicator: I don’t have any answer to that.

[writer: TRAUMA - Orange pop... my ass!]

Tito: “Well how do you propose to rescue him?”

The Vindicator: “We could start by running after him.”

Trauma: “There’s a certain undeniable logic to that.”

The Vindicator: “Shall we then?”

There were several grunts and nods… Someone even said “Sure.” And the chase was on… The Vindicator, Goliath and Trauma were running at a good pace. Tito was trotting along behind in a jaunty fashion so as not to scuff his boots.

They crossed over a small ridge and stumbled into a large clearing. At the centre was THE Dragon, apparently tied to an invisible tree with an invisible rope. The Vindicator scanned the area, but saw nothing… Nonetheless, he was concerned…. This was too easy. Trauma took a step forward, then another… and another… Then he stopped rather abruptly and said “Ouch!”

He had apparently bumped his nose on an invisible shield. He turned around and started to walk back to the group when he bumped his nose again. He threw up his arms, but they were stopped dead about 2 inches above his head.

Trauma: “AAAAAAA!”

Goliath: “What’s going on?”

The Vindicator: “Sweet Koresh! I think he’s trapped in an invisible box! The mimes must still be in the vicinity!”

Just then Tito emerged from the trees behind them…

Tito: “I’d have been here sooner, but I love my boots! What’s Trauma doing?”

The Vindicator: “He’s stuck inside an invisible box.”

Tito: “Those Mime Bastards!”

Several mimes emerged from the circling trees and started annoying the Trio(?). One of them came right up to them and started climbing an imaginary rope. These mimes were bold indeed! C-9 started to short circuit, and Goliath looked like he would soon follow suit. Tito, realizing that he’d dropped his fish, decided that a strategic retreat was in order.

The Vindicator, in a flash of inspiration, pulled a pair of scissors from his bag and cut the invisible rope from which the mime was hanging. The mime fell to his death. The other mimes saw this and gasped. They regrouped and prepared for the second wave of the attack…

[writer: The Vindicator - Damn this is a handy Gym-Bag!]

And so the situation was grave for our heroes. The Mimes, their morale restored by their leader’s pep-mime, surged forward in a new assault. However, just to be on the safe side, a couple of big burly mime apprentices dragged off THE Dragon out of sight.

Trauma was caught in a Mime cage and could not move. Vindicator, Goliath and Tito bravely crashed against the line of Mimes, thrashing them with an assortment of fish that were conveniently lying around. Vindicator gleefully brandished a pair of Mack(eral)-10′s. Goliath was enjoying limited success with his all-porpoise assault dolphin, not realizing that it was a mammal and not a fish but still being effective on several mimes who didn’t know it either. Naturally, it was Tito who was doing the most damage. He masterfully employed a Louisville-Salmon which he wielded with both hands.

While Vindicator and Goliath were slowly wearing down the Mime attackers, it was Tito who cut a swath of destruction into the flank of the Mimes. Mimes fell like wheat before a scythe and he penetrated deep into the ranks of Mimes in a cloud of dust and face makeup. In the cloud of dust it soon became hard to see. He swung at what appeared to be a silhouette (sp?) of a Mime but which wasn’t. The salmon flew from his grasp (damn crisco).

The dust was beginning to clear and Tito could see several new forms cautiously approaching. He had to think fast. Pulling out his supply of crisco, he applied a liberal dose on his face and hands to make himself appear to be wearing makeup and gloves. By now the dust had cleared and about 2 dozen elite mimes that had been held in reserve approached him. They looked suspiciously at the unarmed Tito but were uncertain. Tito quickly lapsed into the Mime classic “Man Walking Against the Wind” and successfully threw suspicion off of himself.

Tito gestured off in a direction still partially obscured by the dust and the Mimes surged off into the cloud. Fortunately for our heroes, the Mimes stumbled off a conveniently placed sheer cliff and, since the ones in front did not vocalize the peril to their comrades behind them, they all obediently marched off the cliff and plummeted to the ground to suffer agonizingly slow deaths.

The few remaining mimes fighting Vindicator and Goliath saw these losses and quickly fled in silent terror.

The danger now having passed, the Trio considered the problem of how to release Trauma from the invisible cage. For his part, Trauma had contributed absolutely nothing to the battle but had merely tipped the cage over in trying to reach his sack of poppies that was just out of reach.

[writer: -Tito]

Feeling extremely foolish, Tito, Vindicator and Goliath hefted the Mime cage and Trauma along with to an up-right position.

Now came the hard part. How to get him out of the box? They stood in silence contemplating the idea.

Vindicator : You know… We could just leave him in there.

Of course, this was absolutely not even remotely possible because of Trauma’s vast importance in the story. Besides, Vindicator came to his senses and figured that if Trauma survived, he would more than likely not.

Tito : I have an idea.

Moments latter, they had pushed the cage to the edge of the sheer cliff (Kurt) and poised it for the fall. Trauma of course was defiantly screaming in terror as he so desperately wished he had some tin foil.

Vindicator : If this doesn’t work?

Tito : (waving his hand and nodding to signify his confidence) Don’t worry.. it will.

Goliath : Look! (pointing at Trauma) Whats he doing?

Vindicator : Looks like he’s miming something.

Tito : What’s he miming besides begging us not to attempt this stupid and dangerous stunt.

Vindicator : I think that’s exactly what he’s miming!

With no further ado… the mime box fell over the edge and crashed onto the bodies of dozens of dead mimes. It was still intact.

Tito : Guess it didn’t work.

Vindicator : How do we get down there?

Tito : (waving his hand and nodding to signify his confidence) Don’t worry…

Goliath was getting extremely bored… he was continuously being distracted. As Tito and Vindicator discussed the details of Tito’s plan. Goliath heard squeaking off in the distance. Through the trees he made out the form of a man wearing black and pushing what appeared to be a large cart. His interest getting the better of him, he wandered off after the man. As he got closer he noticed that the man was wearing a black hood with horns and a pair of goat skin leggings. Also the cart was actually a stone alter with four mix-matched wheels (baby carriage, Hyundai pony, a skateboard, and a broken ski) Goliath was compelled to follow this man… and so he did.

(So ends Goliath’s adventure (for now)… He will return later as always to join a new adventure.)

[writer: TRAUMA - Anton.]

Returning to the conundrum which was currently plaguing our hero’s…

The Vindicator rummaged through his bag and, grinning, pulled out a long cord which he and Tito used to rappel down the cliff (Kurt) face. Once they reached the bottom, Tito felt the sides of the box, but found no openings… It was evidently a strong box.

“This is evidently a strong box.”, said Tito, redundantly.

A look of stern concentration crossed The Vindicator’s face… There was an idea forming in there somewhere… Suddenly, there was a loud ”ding” and a broad grin crossed The Vindicator’s face!

The Vindicator: “Eureka!”

Tito: “I will not be pulled into that old joke!”

The Vindicator reached into his pocket and pulled out a rather large hole, which he then attached to the side of the box. Trauma was greatly relieved at this because, while it was not quite large enough for him to crawl through, it did permit him to start breathing again (which he did with vigor).

As the bluish tinge left Trauma’s face The Vindicator offered a suggestion.

The Vindicator: “Now that there is a hole in the box, perhaps it will weaken the box enough so that it will break this time if we drop it again.”

Tito: “Works for me.”

Trauma (who could now be heard) began to whimper and gibber and hyper- ventilate and do several other things all at once. Tito ascended the cliff (Kurt) and The Vindicator tied the rope around the box. Once secured, Tito pulled the box back up the cliff (Kurt) and, with a broad grin on his face, dropped it off the edge of the cliff (Kurt) once again.

Had he been asked, Trauma couldn’t have commented on the fact that he was currently accelerating at a rate of 9.6 metres/second per second (yes, that is the correct formula), but he certainly appreciated the effect of smashing into the ground. The invisible box shattered and millions of invisible shards could be heard smashing into billions of smaller invisible shards against the rocks. Trauma stood up (a little dazed, but alive) and merely said “Skiddlily Wah-wah!”

Black Widow walked by, said “Hello.” and continued to walk by, cuz she asked for a cameo.

[writer: The Vindicator - Have you filled out your registration card?]

Standing tied to the invisible tree with invisible rope, THE Dragon looked grim. He kept thinking to himself “I’ll make them pay…make them ALL PAY!” To whom he meant, no one could be sure.

THE Dragon: Hey guys! Get yer butts over here and mime untying me!

Vindicator slapped his forehead. “Of course!” He started walking towards THE Dragon but Tito stopped him.

Vindicator: What?

Tito: I’m in command here! Not chump tied to the no-tree!

Vindicator: Oh..sorry.

Tito: Get your butt over there and mime untying him!

Soon THE Dragon and C-9 were free. Now to get Trauma back up the Cliff(kurt).

Vindicator: Shall we just pull him up with the rope?

Tito: No. That’s too easy. lemme think a bit….

Everyone ducked.

Tito: I got it! Get me that invisible rope!

They searched around the immediate area but could not seem to find the invisible rope. They decided not to tell Trauma and fake it. They shouted down to Trauma and mimed and idea of climbing using the invisible rope. Trauma nodded and mimed the catching of the rope, then made his trek up the cliff(Kurt). Upon reaching the top he breathed a sigh of relief.

Trauma: Thanks guys.

C-9: Incredible.

Trauma: I know.

They all looked towards the Greenish city and decided that’s where they should go. THE Dragon looked around and picked up a solid looking stick for a club and started tapping it in his hand, all the while muttering “They’ll pay…all of them…”

Vindicator: What’s he saying?

Trauma: I think he’s read the Punisher Chapter in that book of his…

Vindicator just raised an eyebrow and they started there journey to the greenish city….

And so past fields and meadows and sunny valleys they trudged. Far behind them the small village of midgets and their damaged TARDIS. Somehow they all seemed to sense the end, and it lies withing the emerald city. They walked on silently, reflecting on their past adventurers, distant and more recent. Soon they would be going home.

In the epic origins of these Adventures it had been Trauma and Tito, blazing a path through time and folklore. Becoming legends from the day they walked down that wind swept street, on that dark and stormy night. Accompanied by various adventurers; Goliath, Pelane, Buster Bunny… Facing demons in subterranian realms, falling through the blackness of time to face the ghosts of Christmas, and travel to the ends of space as space pirates.

In time new adventurers came forth; Vindicator, Dragon and Blade… they battled societies greatest obstacles and England’s most dastardly heroes and villains. Now they have hurtled through time and space to arrive at Oz. Their journey is almost at an end…

In no time the Trio of four adventurers plus their mechanical chicken C-9 arrived at the gates. A commotion behind the gates stopped them in their tracks. Swinging inward, a gruff voice shouted. “… and stay out you wide-eyed, slack-jawed bowery-bum wanna be!” And with a mighty punt out bounced Blade! (hows that for our second cameo?)

[writer: TRAUMA - Tito... you have the floor.]

[ Ok, here's the conclusion (and it's a whopper) ]

After only enough time to briefly exchange greetings, the munchkin Stasi quickly hustles Blade out of the Emerald City.

Now the Trio stood before the great portals of the magnificent palace of the Wizard.

Their breathing quickened in anticipation of everything being put right by the beneficent Wizard. Could this be, at long last, the conclusion of their incredible odyssey that spanned space, time and even across dimensions? Would the Wizard decide to help these intrepid adventurers, who, at the cruel hands of Fate, have had every means of returning home thwarted, and every path strewn with perilous obstacles? Will the peace and sanctuary of home that has been for so long so elusive finally be theirs to enjoy again? Read on, dear readers, for herein these questions shall be answered.

The Trio, including Tito, Trauma, Vindicator, THE Dragon and C-9, stepped toward the gates of the palace when suddenly, they swung open again.

A wagon pulled by a team of white horses sped down the street out of the city. The wagon was itself a large cage and within was a very irate Vladimir Zhirinovsky.

He shook his fist toward the interior of the palace and cursed loudly,”…you bastards! I’ve been thrown out of better places. I’ll nuke you and your little dog, too!”

His ranting did not stop there, but were clearly audible until he was finally out of sight,” I’ll fix all of you midgets. I won’t even drop a single bomb. I’ll just bury all the radioactive waste along the border and then I’ll build huge fans and…” – beyond this, Zhirinovsky’s voice become inaudible.

Intrepidly, our heroes approached the doors of the palace. Instantly they found their way blocked by a dozen finely uniformed munchkin guards.

“Halt, tall, stupid hooligans!” ordered their leader.

In a flurry of motion, Trauma, Tito, THE Dragon and even C-9 were suddenly bristling with weapons, ready for combat. Even C-9 had a retractable gatling-gun turret installed by Vindicator.

Vindicator jumped between the belligerent parties and calmed his friends down,” wait guys, let’s not blow our chance to get out of here. There are also peaceful ways to solve our problems.”

THE Dragon sensed the superiority of this course of action and lowered his yoga-charged arms peacefully. Tito and Trauma were less conciliatory.

“No way,” said Tito.

“Don’t wanna,” reinforced Trauma.

“I get the feeling that you don’t want to end the story with gunplay. I refuse to let it be avoided,” said Tito, crossing his arms stubbornly.

The pair stood sulkingly and adhered to their stubbornness, their weapons still poised for the mass carnage to which they were committed.

“I’ll give you some gruel-flavoured pez from my Freddy Krueger pez-dispenser,” tempted Vindicator.

“Okay,” said Tito and Trauma, lowering their modern implements of destruction.

The munchkins, of course, were not in the least intimidated. Their leader, emboldened by the apparent cowardice of the Trio spoke again,” <SNIFF> Hey, men, I think I smell tall people.”

His comrades laughed while the Trio stood in disbelief. THE Dragon spoke to them, “Was that your best attempt at an insult? Geez, you midgets really ARE lame.”

This blistering verbal assault shut the munchkin guards up.

“Okay, enough of this,” said Trauma,” we want to see the Wizard.”

A panel on the gate opened up to reveal the face of an older munchkin. He spoke:”Someone wishes to see the wizard?”

“Yes we do,” said Trauma.

“Get a haircut, you wild-eyed, slack-jawed bowery bum wannabe,” was the eloquent response.

“Get out of the way,” pushed in Vindicator,” let me handle this.”

“Wait,” he said,” we must see him. He is the only one who can get us home.”

“Tough-titties,” the munchkin replied.

Vindicator continued unperturbed,” Our Tardis broke down and we-”

“A Tardis you say?” interrupted the munchkin, “Well no thanks, you see, we already got one.”

Some snickering was heard beyond the door.

“What?” asked Vindicator.

Dragon answered,”He says they’ve already got one.”

Tito stepped up, “Well, great, do you think you guys could give us a lift then?”

“Of course not, you are a pack of escaped circus freaks. Besides, you’re all foreigners you silly tall dregs of freakdom!” was the reply.

This munchkin was clearly much better at insults.

THE Dragon had a momentary premonition of the Trio being crushed under  a catapulted cow. Whether this was another mystical Yoga power or just the ability to spot cheap ripoffs of movies he had seen, he knew he must act on the knowledge gained.

He stepped up to the door and spoke, “We are emissaries that have travelled far in order to secure markets for our most important commodity.”

“And what is that?” asked the munchkin.

Taking one of the canisters of Crisco fixed to the bandolier across Tito’s chest, he held it up to the munchkin and said, “It’s our miracle lotion that when rubbed on the limbs and neck of a midge- er uh, altitudinally challenged individual and it will begin to promote growth within days.”

“Oh boy, let me see it,” said the gatekeeper reaching for it.

“Not so fast,” replied THE Dragon, pulling it away,” if we can’t arrange a trade agreement, we’ll need this to sell for a ether-hound ticket back home.”

Momentarily the gates swung open and Dragon presented the canister to the munchkin.

“Okay, I’ll take you to him,” he said, ushering the heroes to an elevator while feverishly applying crisco to his neck.

“Oooh,” he said to THE Dragon as the elevator ascended, “I can feel it working.”

Presently, the Trio were ushered into a great hall at the top of the emerald tower. At the far end of the hall, bathed in a green sunlight filtered through the emerald domed ceiling, was a magnificent throne. Seated in the throne was none other than JOHN WAYNE. He was fully dressed in cowboy duds and had his pair of hoglegs at his sides.

He spoke,” I hear you pilgrims’ve been looking for me. Well… here I am.”

“It’s the Duke,” the heroes exclaimed.

“Hey, we’re some of your biggest fans,” said Trauma.

“Not so fast, Cochise. You can’t go around my kingdom slappin’ around my subjects and wrecking haciendas like liquored up Pawnee Injuns and ’spect me to forget all about it. At least you did crush the power of those goddamned mimes so I guess I’ll let you off and give you guys a wish,” said the Duke.

“One wish each?” asked Tito.

“No, you greedy bushwacker. One for all of you.” said the Duke.

“Ok, we wish for 10 more wishes,” tried THE Dragon.

“Why I oughtta… NO! and it wasn’t even a nice try you lousy snake-oil peddler.”

“Ok, we just wanna get home.” said Vindicator.

“Is that what you all want?” asked the Duke. The others nodded in agreement.

“Good,I was going to kick you all out anyway but now I save having to give a wish. All you have to do to get home is cross that bridge out there,” he said pointing to a rope bridge spanning a patio over a deep crevice.

As they moved to the bridge, Trauma again tried to speak to the Duke, ”I’ve seen almost all of your movies-”

“No chitchat, now git before I change my mind,” said the Duke.

The party trudged slowly across the bridge that spanned the gorge. The depths below were concealed by mists. Across the bridge, however was a sight that amazed them. There was a magnificent city of mansions with gold paved rooftops. Lamborghinis, Ferraris and Maseratis lined the streets and scantily clad beautiful women waved and beckoned the Trio over.

“Hehe,” chuckled Tito, “I think the Duke is a nice guy after all. I think he screwed up, but what the hell, this is better.”

“I bet the Duke did this on purpose to reward us,” suggested THE Dragon,” I guess he is a good guy.”

The heroes quickened their pace over the bridge in anticipation of the lives of leisure and ridiculous luxury that awaited them.

However, when they were half-way across the bridge, they heard John Wayne shout, “Ok, boys, cut the lines!” and with that the scene ahead suddenly changed as the mass hologram was switched off. All that lay on the other side was a bleak barren outcropping with a dozen munchkins poised over the lines of the bridge with axes. The Trio attempted to run and fire at them but to no avail. The heroes fell from the collapsing bridge and plummeted into the mists below.

“The Duke’s an Asshole.” exclaimed Vindicator.

“A-S-S-H-O-L-E, he’s an asshole!” chimed in Tito and Trauma as they fell. Their equipment slipped from their grasps as well as much of their equipment.

The party fell for what seemed an eternity. They had almost gotten used to the feeling of weightlessness when suddenly <THUD> they landed heavily on the respective lawns in front of their homes. As their homes were spread across Burlington and Hamilton, they were out of sight of each other. Each was alone. Eventually they came to and found that no bones had been broken since they landed on snowbanks. Each got up and tried to locate first his weapons and then his friends. To no avail, however, none of their precious hardware was recovered and even C-9 had not fallen with anyone. All of the fantastic possessions were gone and our heroes only had what they had started with plus one minor memento of their great fantastic voyage.

Vindicator found a small paper bag. Opening it, he found jelly-babies and without thinking, he ate them all up before realizing they were his only proof of his trip. “At least I still have the bag,” he said just before a gust blew it from his hand and down the street.

THE Dragon found a back-scratcher inscribed withÿ”To reach the places even Yoga cannot reach. He used it to scratch his back and instantly it snapped into tiny slivers of worthless plastic. Shoddy munchkin workmanship, you know.

Trauma had a great prize. He found a t-shirt that had a map of their trip and said,” I went through space, time and even dimensions and all I got was this crummy shirt,” He quickly ran to show his still sleeping parents (it was now dawn) unfortunately he slipped on some ice and landed in a slush puddle of semi-melted snow. When he got up he saw that the dye used in the shirt was so cheap it was watersoluble,and the map and inscription was irrevocably washed away.

Tito picked up a shiny object half buried in the snow. It turned out to be a water filled glass globe with a depiction of the emerald city where one could simulate snowstorms. Tito looked at it contemptuously and dashed it on the street, smashing it while saying, “What is this? Faggot shit?”

And so, our heroes made it home and miraculously made it on the dawn following their first night of adventure where they hopped aboard the freight train. They had not lost more than an evening and were not frightened from future such trips.

><><><><>THE END<><><><><

Well there you have it. For all the fans out there… this has been a very interesting tale. THE GREATEST ADVENTURE EVER TOLD maybe concluded, but we are far from finished.

[writer: TRAUMA - Groovy, 10/03/94]

The Vindicator reached for the controls but not before the Tardis was surrounded by a bunch of lazy, slack-lipped greaseballs who started to tip what they perceived as a funny looking outhouse. Inside Vindicator was momentarily startled and lost his balance and hit a large red button that said “Obliterate”. Silence rung the skies. Time seemed to stand still, colour seemed to drain from the very reality of their beings and there was a bright flash of energy on the view screen. In the next moment, when the smoke cleared, the Cube was gone.

Tito(struck to utter amazement): Duhh, duhh….I LIKE IT!!!!

Trauma: I’m impressed!

Vindicator: That could come in handy.

THE Dragon: My, my…wasn’t that pretty.

Tito: Can we go to Disneyland now? Pleeeeeease???!!!

C-9: Umm guys…take a close look outside…

The view screen now showed an odd anomaly. Like looking into a mirror that had a mirror in front of it, the fabric os space/time seemed to have been pierced multiple times and they could see through an infinity of realities.

Trauma: Ok..so now what? We have a straight doorway to just about anyplace without random button punching. I say we go for it.

Vindicator: We just punched a hole through the entire multi-verse and you want to go explore?!

Trauma: Well…yes.

Vindicator: Oh…ok…let’s go.

So, slipping through the first layer of punched space, they ended up where no man(or chicken….or Dragon) has ever gone before…..

[writer: DRAGON!!!]

Passing the first layer was extremely painful. The shock to their system was more then they could handle, and they collapsed onto the floor of the TARDIS. THE Dragon pulled himself to his feet. The TARDIS was dark and only he and C-9 where their. The view screen was also effected by the power loss and so he had to leave the TARDIS to see where he was. C-9 rolled out after him.

It was beautiful sunny day and all around him was a small village. No one was about. He did notice however that the TARDIS was slightly tilted, which means they landed on something. Walking around the TARDIS he saw what it was. A pair of feet were sticking out from under the TARDIS. They had a pair of Koala Bear slippers on the them. Scattered around where pamphlets and flyers which read “Watch Tower”.

From behind him he heard a high squeaky voice say, “You killed him.”

THE Dragon spun around quickly to see an entire mob of midgets. His first instinct was to scream out a battle cry and thrash them all using C-9 as a blunt instrument. But he choose not to.

Midget: You killed him! Hurray! You killed the Jehovah’s Witness!

Before he could say anything, the crowd hefted him and C-9 over their heads and carried them into the village. Singing, “Ding Dong, The Jehovah is dead! The Jehovah is dead! The Jehovah is dead!”

He was about to confess that it was all an accident and he never intended to kill anyone, but decided he would milk this saps for all this was worth!

Suddenly out of the sky appeared Glenda, the Good Slut of the North! It was a joyous day for all the midgets when she arrived. Eyeing him up and down, she licked her lips. However, being repulsive, THE Dragon cringed.

Glenda: You saved the Midgets!

Mayor: Hey! How many times do I have to tell ya, we don’t like to be called midgets!?

Glenda: Oh.. alright. You saved the ‘Vertically Challenged’!

Everyone cheered! Glenda pinched THE Dragon’s bum!

Mayor: Is their anything we can do for you?

THE Dragon: Well… yes there is. I lost my friends and, it seems that my TARDIS is busted.

Mayor: To find your friends…

Someone else: … you must follow the yellow brick road…

Someone else: … follow the yellow brick road…

Someone else: … follow the yellow brick road…

Mayor: … and then go to the Emerald City and find the Wizard…

Someone else: … yes! find the Wizard! He can help you.

Glenda goosed THE Dragon again.

Glenda: But first you must take these magical Koala bear slippers. And never take them off. Or they will get you.

THE Dragon: They? Who are they?

Glenda: Why the Jehovah’s of course!

Putting on the slippers, THE Dragon was on his way to find his friends. And the Emerald City…..

[writer: TRAUMA - Yup.]

So, THE Dragon slipped on the Koala slippers and he and Toto, er… C-9 began the long trek to the Emerald City.

They walked for several hours when they came upon a skinny black man dressed as a scarecrow. The scarecrow was dancing and yelling “Hee hee!” for no readily apparent reason.

“Who are you, and where are you going?” Inquired Dragon.

Scarecrow: “I’m Michael the scarecrow, and I’m going to see the Wiz!”

Dragon: “Blast him, C-9″

C-9: <Insert special effect here>

The scarecrow lay dead on the side of the yellow brick road. THE Dragon quickly rummaged through his pockets, found a few things and continued his journey.

Meanwhile, in another part of the land:

The Tardis materialized on the edge of a large field of poppies. The door opened and Trauma, The Vindicator and Tito stepped out. Trauma immediately began to gibber and Tito stripped down to his jockey’s and ran through the field yelling “I’m coming, generalissimo!”

Once The Vindicator managed to pry the tinfoil out of Trauma’s hands, he gathered up Tito’s clothes and convinced him to get dressed again. They were just getting their bearings and were about to begin looking for THE Dragon, when a small dude on a moped drove up and asked them if they had any grass.

The Vindicator: “You some kinda midget hippie?”

Midget Hippie: “We prefer the term ‘Altitudinally Challenged’”

The Vindicator: “I beg your pardon.”

Midget Hippie: “No problem, man! You got some grass?”

Trauma: “No, but we have some crisco!”

Tito: “And Binaca!”

The midget, er… Altitudinally Challenged hippie pondered the situation and decided that he needed to ponder the situation further. So, he drove away in a cloud of altitudinally challenged dust.

As he drove off, an accuracy-impaired map fell out of his saddlebag. ”This could be useful.”, thought The Vindicator and he grabbed the map.

The Vindicator: “Hey guys… According to this map, there’s a large green city about 12 miles to the east of here. Maybe Dragon is heading there!”

Trauma: “Your point?”

The Vindicator: “They probably have women there.”

Trauma: “What are you just sitting there for???”

So, they began the 12-mile trek to the Emerald City… They passed many wondrous things on the way… Much to wondrous to bother discussing in a story as informal as this one is. But I can tell you that they were sorely tempted to stop in at a theatre they passed along the way… The theatre was playing Dragon: The Liu Kang Story.

[writer: The Vindicator - Making up for his absence...]

As the Trio passed the theatre which was playing the Liu Kang Story, the front doors opened and a figure tumbled out into the street. The Trio walked over to see what was happening. As the party approached the man (not Altitudinally Challenged) got up and shouted into the theatre,” you’ll be sorry for this you little faggots. I’ve been thrown out of better theatres than this! I’ll nuke your stupid theatre till it glows!”

Tito exclaimed,” Wow! It’s Vladimir Zhirinovsky. Hey, I’m a huge supporter of yours and I’ve always wanted to meet you.”

Zhirinovsky replied,”Well naturally, who wouldn’t?”

Tito: “Of course, but please tell us what happened here.”

Zhirinovsky: “Well, you see, I was here on a diplomatic mission and I had some time to kill so I took in this movie. All I said was,” hey, that slant-eyed nip is pretty good. I bet he could kick the shit outta about 20 of you little midget bastards. Of course, any Russian could shitkick at least 50 of you dwarf freaks without breaking a sweat. Apparently, the fellow patrons of the theatre can’t take constructive criticism and they threw me out before I could put down my popcorn to thrash them.”

Tito: “How awful, we should go and torch the theatre down for that,”

Zhirinovsky: “Ah, they’ll get theirs. Now get outta my way, wop, I got an appointment with the Wizard” he said shoving Tito and with that he stormed off down the street.

Tito looked at his comrades and said,” Vladimir Zhirinovsky actually shoved me. What a great man!”

Vindicator found the episode amusing and decided to shove Tito as Vlad had done. Tito bared all his teeth and hissed, “Touch me again and I’ll keel you!”

With the excitement having passed the Trio continued on their way to the mysterious green city 12 miles away.

[writer: -Tito]

The Trio walked for a while longer until the road became more twisting and the foliage on the sides became denser with trees and shrubbery.

Trauma: So what is going on? are there actually two Tardis’ or what?

Vindicator: Well, yeah, Dragon has the other one which is probably somewhere nearby as well.

Tito: I don’t understand how we got separated in the first place. I thought we were together and maybe Dragon slipped out somewhere.

Vindicator: On the other hand, that might be what has happened.

Tito: This portal business wasn’t fully explained to me either. My brain still hurts.

Trauma: Why is it a portal? why don’t we just call it a door?

Vindicator: (amused by the ignorance of his comrades) Naturally it’s a portal. It’s always called a portal if it is a result of a rift in the time-space continuum.

Trauma: (searching his pockets for tinfoil and laughing hysterically) “Damn, where did I put my portable cheese grater?”

Tito: (stripping off his clothes and twitching maniacally) Is that poison ivy over there? How about there?

Vindicator regretted having said “rift in the time-space continuum” and quickly corrected himself, “Did I say rift in the time-space continuum? What I meant to say was it was a magic door”

Tito and Trauma: (calming down)…a magic door? huhuhuhu cool.

With that they continued. They didn’t get far, however, they stopped in their tracks when they heard a rustling in the bushes off to the right.

[writer: -Tito]

Now I’m sure that many of you were expecting THE Dragon to come bumbling out of the underbrush, and to be perfectly honest… That’s what our hero’s were expecting to see as well. That’s why they were stunned when the person they thought was THE Dragon turned out to be Goliath.

Goliath: “Hi!”

Trauma: “Where have YOU been???”

Goliath: “I think I got caught in some rupture in the space-time continuum… Either that or it’s just one of the many inconsistencies that plague the writers…”

The Vindicator: “Ah shit! You said space-time continuum!”

Trauma lay on the ground in the fetal position, gums bleeding and cheese grater in hand while Tito rolled around in the dirt asking various plants if they’d like to be friends with him. The Vindicator slapped his forehead, then decided to slap Goliath as well.

The Vindicator: “He meant magic door! Magic Door! Really!”

But it was no use… This time they’d really snapped. Words would not suffice this time. The Vindicator started rummaging through his gym-bag which he’d been carrying all the time, but was never actually mentioned.  He pushed aside some cherry Pez, binaca and searched under his inflatable helicopter… finally he pulled out a large blue & white plastic tub of Crisco which he smeared on Trauma and Tito’s gums.

As their respirations began to return to normal, and Tito (unsuccessful in convincing a single plant to be friends with him), The Vindicator politely requested that Goliath not mention portals, S/T continuum’s, colossal negative space wedgies or any other form of paranormal phenomena.

The Vindicator: “So just cut it out, cheesehead!” he said to Goliath.

Goliath: “Can I tell them about the chocolate house I saw over the next ridge?”

[writer: The Vindicator & Gretel.]

The Trio (note capital must be used since there are 4 members) continued on there way and sure enough, over the next hill there was a house built entirely of chocolate and candy of all kinds. The party descended upon it like locusts and began to munch on it immediately. After half an hour they lay on the grass bloated with the sweets they had consumed and not feeling all too well. Tito was exacerbating the situation with one of his anecdotes:

Tito: You know, this reminds of the time I was stranded in Port Said (that’s “Sa-EED”) with two drachmas to my name. I couldn’t get in the famed Kit Kat Klub known as far away as Madagascar. Boy was I redfaced, and I didn’t know why, you see, I still had a handful of walnuts an-

Vindicator: How is your story at all related to our present situation?

Tito: Did I say it was related?

Trauma and Vindicator and Goliath: Yes!

Tito: Uh, my mistake, forget it.

The hard earned silence was not to last, however, as a roar erupted from the bushes behind the house. The party staggered to their feet and faced the bushes in a unified front.

A voice from the bushes said, “You’ve eaten from my chocolate house, now I’m going to eat all of you. Say your prayers.”

Trauma: (whispering) Oh great Axl in heaven, give me guidance in this, a dark hour in my life…(and out loud) Want some, get some!

Goliath: You’re gonna suffer, punk!

Vindicator: Ditto!

Tito: What? (still some crisco in his ears)

The next thing they saw was the owner of the voice, a lion come out of the bushes and throw himself at the feet of the party begging for mercy.

“OOOOOH, you scared me,” he said,” I wasn’t going to hurt you, anyway.”

Goliath helped the lion to his feet (they were both bipedal) and calmed him down. The lion told the party his story:

Cowardly Lion: I was a good king of the jungle but I don’t have any courage. I really need courage. Do you know where I can get some?

Trauma:(distracting the lion) Uh sure, back home we have a place called Seven-Eleven, it’s got everything, I had one excellent slushie there.

All this allowed Tito to get out of the lion’s field of view. In a few moments Tito was behind the lion with his nickel plated, sawed-off shotgun poised. He raised it and <BLAM> <SPLAT> he blew off the lion’s face with a healthy (or unhealthy) dose of buckshot.

<LATER>

Trauma:(gnawing on barbecued ribs) That lion said he needed courage, I say all he needed was some salt.

Tito: I still prefer roast baby seal or koala bear stew.

Goliath: Or dolphin fishsticks.

Vindicator: Mmmm, I can almost smell the aroma of charred koala bear fur – we leave it on when we cook as a source of fibre.

And so, we leave our beloved heroes at their idyllic campfire where they spent the night dreaming of gourmet meals and loose women. The following morning they awoke refreshed and were ready to continue their quest.

[writer: -Tito]

Pocketing a handy Swiss Army knife he found on the scare crow (and a check for 30 million for some kid) off he was chasing the toad that was almost out of sight.

Cresting a hill he came upon a wondrous sight. There before him lay a valley of immense beauty and vastness with a bright green city in its midst.

THE Dragon: Gee….that looks like a stop light colour.

C-9: Emerald.

THE Dragon: I knew that!

They headed off into the Valley and soon chanced upon a slender being with pointed ears.

Elf: Omy Gods! Just WHAT do we have heeere? Aren’t you just the cutest thing to this Valley!

THE Dragon(whispered to C-9): Be careful, this is a Valley Elf. Got a spoon handy?

C-9: Spoon?

THE Dragon: To gag her with! Sigh…never mind. (To Elf) I say! You are just the bodacious babe in these woods! You must be excited eh?

Elf:Ohjustoutrageious!Imustshowyoutomyfriendsandmaan!Thenwecanshackupinacutelittlep!!!

With a swiftness that belied his clumsiness, THE Dragon whipped out that ever-so-handy Swiss Army Knife, flicked out the spoon portion and gaged the Elf with it. After a few minutes of helpless struggle, the Valley Elf sigh and gurgled her last word “omygod”.

THE Dragon: I really hated doing that, but it was either me or her.

C-9 was appalled at this mild mannered cross-dresser turned hard-core soldier of mishap. What ever happened to the quite little man he once knew… mebbe the good people of this world knew, mebbe it was the Koala Slippers<TM>, or mebbe this was natural…..hopefully there would be someone in that green city….

[writer: DRAGON!!!]

Meanwhile…

The Trio, consisting of one more person then the word “Trio” would seem to indicate, continued to the city.

Vindicator looked at the quite Trauma, walking several paces behind them. He was deep in concentration looking into his ever present satchel.

Vindicator: What ya got there?

Trauma : (looking up at Vindicator) Poppies.

Vindicator: Poppies?

Trauma : A whole bunch…

Vindicator: What in Koresh’s Name are you gonna do with those?

Trauma : I’m gonna make me some opium. Yes I am. (smiling like an idiot)

Vindicator: (shaking his head in disbelief) You are an idiot.

Vindicator caught up to Tito and Goliath. Too the side of the road, hidden by foliage, Tito spotted something metallic. Motioning to the rest of the group they devised a plan and rushed into the wooded copse. To their unexpected joy… they had successfully surprised a rusted, motionless Tin-Man! After a round of congratulatory handshakes, they turned their attention back to the momentarily forgotten Tin-Man.

Tito and Vindicator stood in front of it, trying to figure out what exactly it was. Goliath was relieving himself in a near by juniper bush.

Tito : Is it alive?

Vindicator: Its hard to say. But I do believe so.

Tito : What should we do?

But before Vindicator could answer, over to the Tin-Man’s right blind side came a battle cry. Trauma had successfully moved in behind with his Louisville poised. Attacking the defenseless Tin-Man, Trauma in a flurry of swings dented and dismembered the once standing and living (now very much dead) Tin-Man.

Vindicator: What did you do that for? (yelling frantically)

Tito : Yeah… we still have left overs from that lion.

Trauma : (shrugging) I was feeling tense. Besides I didn’t like the way he was looking at us.

[writer: TRAUMA - rolling... rolling... rolling through the story.]

The Vindicator sat down (a fair distance from the now dead juniper bushes) and pondered the situation. First… There was an inconsistency in the euphemism used to describe the group. Second… He had a gibbering, half-mad junkie who could bench-press him without breaking a sweat. Third… Tito apparently had the ability to produce a toxic liquid that could kill plant life on contact (maybe some of the plants should have agreed to become friends with him). Fourth… Goliath kept popping in and out of the story through that damnable “Magic Door”. And finally, Fifth… THE Dragon & C-9 were still nowhere to be found.

It was some time before The Vindicator roused himself from his contemplation, and by this time Tito and Trauma had successfully converted the corpse of the Tin Man into a pair of shiney belt-buckles, 2 sheriff’s badges and 2 pairs of spurs for their boots.

Trauma was leaning against a tree tapping a bottle of Labbat ’50 against his new belt-buckle.

The Vindicator: “Trauma! Where’d you get that beer???”

Trauma: “One of the monkey’s circling above us dropped it.”

The Vindicator looked up… Sure enough, a flock of flying monkeys were circling about 50 feet above them. Goliath narrowly avoided getting shat on by one of the beasts and he immediately began chucking rocks at them…

[writer: The Vindicator - I should have given ya an Orange POP!]