Immediately following the carnage, our heroes looked around the room.  Sputtering wires and twitching forms made the only sound. THE Dragon deciding to use table cloth as a toga, made his way to the chicken wire fence and pulled down the now one-winged C-9.

Whiskey Jack and Stompin’ Tom apparently bailed before the explosion.  Picking their way across the floor, (and Tito picking his way through pockets, looted the bodies as thoroughly as possible.) The Adventurers came up beside THE Dragon.

Suddenly as whining sound, similar to that of the TARDIS’ dematerialize sound started. Startled they drew their weapons and aimed in the general area of the sound.

Fading into existence was a large bass! A few moments passed and the bass began moving. A door opened on his backside and out tumbled a man, who can only be described as a beatnick! He wore a tweed gray jacket over a white turtle neck. His trouser were extremely baggy and he wore a pair of rope sandals without socks. He also wore a black french beret and a pair of shades.

Trauma and Tito: Goliath!

Goliath: Skiddily wa-wa.

Vindicator: Great.

Its been years since Trauma, Tito and Goliath were together and involved in a continuing story… so this reunion was one of great importance.

Tito: Hey! Ponce. Where’s the five bucks you owe me?

Goliath: Ah man. I left it in my other pants, man.

Introductions made, Goliath proceeded to tell them his story:

Goliath: Well, you see. I was catching some rays on this planet, man.  When I scoped out this hot babe. She had long legs and heavy set of hooters. She came over and sat down beside me. She wanted me to rub somelotion on her BACK! (Get it?) I lustered her up and then she was all over me. Next thing I know is these five big dudes started ruffing me up! They said I molested their innocent young sister. Yeah right! Like with a body like that, I was supposed to know she was only 14! I escaped and hid out for a bit. Luckily I stumbled across this bummed out time lord. So I stole his Tardis. And now I’m here.

[writer: TRAUMA - Groovy.]

In the TARDIS, the now 5 Adventurers (Trauma, Tito, Vindicator, THE Dragon and Goliath) Nestled down for a long winters nap. Suddenly there arose such a clatter, they leapt from their beds to see what was the matter. Quickly they flew into the control room. Weapons loaded and menacingly waving. Vindicator turned on the monitor and they discovered they had landed. But where?

Suddenly materializing before them were three robed figures. The one in the center (and also the largest one) spoke first.

Big Guy: (in a high lisping voice) You have been charged with crimes against the Spirits of Christmas.

Tito: Save it.

Tito unloaded a full clip into the figure dropping him. Trauma followed suit and slaughtered the other two in the heat of excitement. Rocking back and forth, Trauma’s eyes were wide and adrenaline rushed through his veins. Starting to shake with seizure, the others rushed to his side. Tito grabbed Trauma’s pez dispenser and forced one, then two more into his mouth.

Tito: Here… put a little on your gums.

Relaxing, Trauma looked around.

Trauma: I’m fine now guys. Thanks.

Suddenly a disembodied head appeared in the TARDIS. Trauma and Tito thought to employ the same solution as to the last problem. However this did not work.

Disembodied Head: (in a high squeaky voice) You have been charged with crimes against the Spirits of Christmas. You are sentenced to rehabilitation. The only way to do this successfully is to experience Christmas through the eyes of children.

Vertigo hit them. It had to hit Trauma twice because he was still wearing the peril sensitive sunglasses. The first time was to knock them off, and the second was to give him that fuzzy feeling in the tummy.

Falling through that now familiar feeling of blackness, they sat back, jaded.

Tito: Hey man. Is dis da best dat you can do?

They landed. On the soft cushion of a mattress. Looking around they noticed something odd about themselves. They had been turned into children. Each wore the pj’s with the feet attached and the flap on the back.

Vindicator: What the hell is this?

Just then coming into the room was what appeared to be ‘mommy’ and ’daddy’. Trauma, Tito, Vindicator screamed! THE Dragon was so scared he pooed himself and Goliath cried.

The reason the two ‘parents’ received this response was because ’daddy’ was Rob Smith. Padre! The mother. It was quite obvious. Some two bit washed up hooker/stripper Rob ordered in in a Mail Order catalogue from Cambodia!

Daddy: C’mon you little bastards. Its time for school.

You see, Padre didn’t have a job. A real job that is. He watched foster children for a living. His wife worked late nights. Yes, this is gonna be one hell of a christmas.

[writer: TRAUMA - Ho ho ho!]

Their delicate senses befouled by the odour of the not so sweet smelling home they were now forced to inhabit the five grimly set about the task of plotting the demise of those they were forced to live with and those who had sent them here. But first it was necessary for a plan of action to be made.

Tito: I say we blow them all to hell!

Vindicator: Nah! Already been there nothing special.

Trauma: Did you see the ass on that Cambodian bitch! Ow! We could make a pretty penny by selling her on the street!

THE Dragon: Anybody got a spare set of pj’s?

Goliath: Oi! I say we call up the phone sex line and charge it up way up, Padre’s payin!

After expressing their lack of enthusiasm for their “parents” the five intrepid voyeurs, uh, voyageurs decided that the best strategy here was to bilk these saps for everything they were worth( not much) and leave this flea infested piss-shack post haste!

The five had formed their plan of action: 1) gain cash fast by pawning everything that wasn’t nailed down. 2) quickly shove ma out onto the street to increase the family income 3) make a quick visit to the mall to shoplift as much as they could and blame it on their wretched father. 4) find a decent set of clothes for fuck’s sake!

It was a fluke. The Spirits of Christmas managed to yank the 5 Adventurers out of the story before they destroyed Christmas. The error was that since their bodies had been reduced to that of 4 year olds, their minds remained the same. Only one explanation could be given – a greater power was siding with the Adventurers. A purely malignant and evil power!

And so we proceed…

Back in the TARDIS, Trauma, Marshal Tito, Vindicator, THE Dragon and Goliath along with C-9 hurled once again through time and space.

[writer: TRAUMA - I fucked it up... so then I saved it!]

Tito: “What happened?”

The Vindicator: “I think we were hit by a colossal negative space wedgie.”

Trauma: “Huh?”

The Vindicator: “You want me to explain? I know how much you love alternate realities and fractures in the space/time continuum.”

Trauma: “Never mind.”

Dragon was feeling his arms and legs… Then he moved his hands down his chest, stomach, back, hips…

Trauma: “What the hell are you doing?”

Dragon: “Making sure everything is still where I left it.”

[writer: The Vindicator - In a slump.]

THE Dragon: Hey Vind…you sure your real name ain’t Cliff?

Suddenly, before Vindicator swelled up his ego to smite the little man that THE Dragon was, a loud siren and flashing lights came on inside the HMGS Tardis.

Tito: Damn! Tell them that she told me she was legal before they put the cuffs on me!

Trauma: Relax! Check out the screen.

Goliath: Skiddly wa-wa

The screen lit up to show a most horrid fate that had befallen them this time. Outside showed a massive gathering of people in the most outrageous clothing and smoking these little things every five feet they walked. Beads adorned just about everything and everyone had hair down to their butts. Flowers bloomed everywhere and messages of “Peace” was in the air. Yes, they were at Woodstock!

With the sudden appearance of a Johnny-on-the-spot(at least that’s what it appeared to those at the concert) the lineup for the washroom started. People were pounding on the door and shouting for those inside to hurray up.

Vindicator: Let’s get out of here…

Trauma: Nothings working. Everythings dead. Not lights, no blips.

THE Dragon: It is a sign. We have a mission here to accomplish and Fate has charged us with completing it.

Goliath was just staring at the screen, absolute fascinated by the sight of all those people, joined for a single purpose. Do listen to their music, to express their feelings, and most of all to get high!

<Writer’s insert….how does he do that! I said one purpose and three appeared….sigh>

Goliath: Man, that is just too cool. I have died and gone to the great Smoke House in the Sky! Let me out…

With those muttered words he swayed out the door to join his brothers in Love. In doing so he let the hundreds of Hippies…er, expressionists into the extra-dimensional unit and the crew had all kinds of beat-niks all through the Tardis.

Vindicator: Oh just great! Whatever are we going to do now? We can’t kill thousands of them!

Tito just smiled and said: Sure we could. I’m game! Besides, I want to try out ‘Ol Betsy here.

Tito pulled out the shiniest gun anyone had ever seen. Double-barreled, nickel-plated and with a polished oak stock he was ready to rock.

Trauma: Where’d ya get that?!

Tito: Been savin it. Found it a ways back and modified with some things I found here. Don’t know what it’ll do, but one of the parts said ”For StarShips weapons only” It was small and it fit inside the stock. Heh Heh.

Just then Goliath walked back in.

Goliath: ‘Bout time you guys showed up! I’ve been waiting for years!

Trauma: Whaddya mean years?! Ya just left a few mins ago!

Goliath: What?! Have you been doing any of those drugs they got here man? I’ve not seen you since the last story ya stuck me in….I believe I was in the gutter…

THE Dragon looked at the view screen and saw an image of Goliath waling among the crowd of hippys, thoroughly enjoying himself….

THE Dragon: Umm guys…look at the screen.

They saw the other image and were baffled.

Vindicator: That’s not possible! This one must be an imposter!

C-9 walked in from the next room.

C-9: No he is not. This is the dilemma which you must solve. Both are the real Goliath but only the right one must leave this timeline, somewhere in the future you guys screwed up the timelines and if you mess it up again all of reality will be torn asunder!

Tito: Hey! Does that mean I won’t be able to polish my gun?

Now what will our heroes do? Are they faced with a a paradox of time or will they simple blunder their way through this encounter? My money’s on the second choice<G>

[writer: DRAGON!!!]

Screaming hysterically and gibbering at the thought of actually being involved in one of those space/time scenarios… Trauma pulled out a cheese grater and a sheet of tin foil. Jamming the tin foil into his mouth he began chewing and giggling madly. At the same time he started shaving his head with the cheese grater. Fortunately… Tito and Vindicator tackled him before he did himself any serious damage. Vindicator proceeded to slap some sanity into him with a glove. Enjoying the sensation, Vindicator applied a flurry of glove slaps until he was overwhelmed was the same hysterical screaming and gibbering. However, Vindicator salivated more and drooled all over his shirt.

Tito : And stay out you fucking beatnik!

Tito hoofed the last one out and slammed the door closed.

THE Dragon : How do we get out without letting them back in?

On the screen the line up started again.

Trauma : I think Tito’s method is the best.

Trauma reached for his MAC-10s. And Tito pulled up his UZI. Vindicator shook his head in stupified disbelief that anyone so violent as Trauma and Tito could possibly exist.

Vindicator: Why don’t we try subtlety for once?

Tito : What? Subtlety? Subtlety is for pussies and faggots!

Trauma : Yeah… and I bet you would like some orange pop too, eh?

Goliath #1: So what your chicken is saying… is that I don’t belong in this timeline?

THE Dragon: We don’t know. Its either you or the other Goliath out there.

THE Dragon pointed to the view screen. Goliath #2 was body surfing.

Vindicator: Our traveling through the time/space continuum with ‘our’ Goliath must have disrupted the time/space fabric and over lapped two parallel timelines.

Trauma: <gibberish> <chuckle>

Goliath #1: Well then what are you waiting for. Go out and grab the other me and lets get the hell back in time.

Vindicator: Okay. We have to figure out which timeline we intersected.

At this point Trauma frantically looked around for another cheese grater. Fortunately Tito was prepared and with a little extra unnecessary exertion, tackled Trauma. Tito alone couldn’t hold down the thrashing Trauma. So THE Dragon pinned Trauma’s legs. (But not before getting a boot to the nuts.) Vindicator reached excitedly for his gloves and tripped on his scarf. Goliath #1 rushed over and crushed one of two walnuts on the floor that had fallen out of THE Dragon’s mouth. Reaching for a clump of crisco he forced it into Trauma’s hand.

Tito: Here… Put a little crisco on it.

Generously heaping the crisco onto his own gums, Trauma relaxed.

On the view screen… Goliath #2 was engaged in some furious moshing in front of the stage. He was also wearing a purple felt top-hat with a yellow ribbon and flowers painted all over it.

[writer: TRAUMA - Yup... I would go with the second choice too.]

The Vindicator jumped to the control panel and pulled a couple of levers…. The Tardis made a sickening lurch about 30 ft. to the west, materializing right next to Goliath #2… Trauma opened the door, reached out and grabbed Goliath #2 by the scruff of the neck, and pulled him inside.

The Vindicator closed the doors and dematerialized.

The two Goliath’s looked each other in the eye for the first time… For a moment, it seemed that the space/time continuum might collapse, but it was protected by The Vindicator’s vast ego.

Instead, the two Goliath’s merely passed out… As they lay on the floor of the Tardis, farting away, Trauma and Tito sat in the corner and sulked.

THE Dragon: “What’s wrong with you two?”

Trauma: “We didn’t get to kill anyone.”

Tito: “We didn’t even get to maim any small children!”

The Vindicator: “If you’re good, we can stop at Disney World, and you can fire indiscriminately into the crowd.”

Trauma and Tito beamed a smile at no-one in particular. The Vindicator walked into one of the many thousands of rooms down the hall, where a door said “It’s been a mind-numbingly happy experience opening for you.”

The Vindicator: “When did the doors start to talk?”

Trauma started chewing tinfoil again…

[writer: The Vindicator - But officer, the fate of the world hangs in the balance!]

Happily the voyageurs continue in blissful ignorance on their quest. Little known to them a giant space anomaly opened up and sucked them off course. Vindicator was summoned by C-9 from the bathroom where he was fervently jerking off to a skin mag left behind by THE Dragon the previous user of this one of the thousands of stalls in the Tardis.

Summoned by the emergency the Vindicator was forced to quit his affairs in a hurry and see where they had materialized. As it was his watch he could not believe his eyes to find the Tardis had materialized within a rundown theater in the middle of the ether.

Moments passed while Vindicator summoned the rest of the crew threw the use of an old ship’s air horn he found. With a loud AOOOGAAA! The crew was awakened and formed up before the view screen. They were stunned to find a closeup of a weird alien looking blue bird with a large hooked nose and two large beady eyes surrounded by a vast harem of chickens pecking at the hull of their phone booth.

Music could be heard outside in the theater the band leader turned around and threw a massive gold toothed smile at the camera that blinded them for a fraction of a second all that the aliens needed before the Tardis was hit by a massive detonation in one of the walls.

Manaical laughter could be heard as a small lunatic ran threw the hole and into his type of heaven their armory. Beckoning to his comrades the boarding siren wailed throughout the Tardis- a series of tin cans and bells that Trauma had collected through his childhood.

After the little dynamite wielding lunatic disappeared into theTardis’ armory, the others stormed through.

C-9 <scanning> : Sweet Koresh! We are being invaded by Muppets!

First came Gonzo and his armed chickens commandos. Fascinated by C-9, Gonzo rushed over to see what this gorgeous hunk o’ chicken was! A quick taser blast deterred Gonzo from continuing his sexual advances.

The 5 adventurers plus the other Goliath tried to fend off the boarding party… but were overwhelmed by the onslaught of The Flying Zucchini Brothers and a Fish wielding maniac! Successful in their strike, the other Muppets stormed the breach.

Kermit and Scooter carried in the desk and P.A system. Stadler and Waldorf carried in their customary booth. Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem lugged in their instruments. Scores of other Muppets and the patrons with their seats swarmed under the legs of Sweetums as he held open the breach from repairing itself.

Disappearing throughout the Tardis the Muppets infested their new home. Stadler and Waldorf set up their booth in the control room as the breach finally closed. Vindicator staggered to the controls and dematerialized.

[writer: Goliath]

[Ed. Note: Goliath's first and only big post....thank God!]

Recovering from the bizarre encounter… Vindicator checked the instruments of the TARDIS.

Tito : What the Fuck was that?

Vindicator: It was a temporal anomaly. We crossed one of the multitude of realities where the TARDIS encountered a floating Muppet Theater. NO harm done… but lets avoid another such occurrence.

Trauma : <gibberish>

Suddenly the proximately alarm wailed! The TARDIS was yanked out of plotted course and into the ether by an immense gravitational force. On the view screen the Adventurers looked on in astonishment. The cube was huge. Close to the size of a small moon.

THE Dragon : What is it?

Vindicator : I dunno? C-9, what do you think?

C-9 : Looks like a giant cube the size of a small moon.

Trauma : But look at it. Look what its made of…

He was right of course, he was an odd construction. It appeared to be a mass of slum apartments fused together into a giant cube!

C-9 : We are being scanned by some fairly primitive devices.

They looked for a source of the scanning.

Vindicator: There!

Zooming in they saw the primitive scanner. It was a long haired skid with a pair of binoculars.

Tito : Sweet Koresh! Its the skids!

THE Dragon: The Who?

Vindicator : No.. they disbanded years ago.

Suddenly the TARDIS was being hailed. The image on the screen was of a long haired skid wearing a ripped jean jacket with graffiti all over it. The background was obscured by smoke.

Skid : Like, surrender your ship, man.

He took a long drag from a small joint.

Vindicator : Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.

Tito : Fucking welfare, poogie bastards. Try and take it.

Tito held his gun menacingly.

Skid : Whoa… like bad karma, man. Resistance is futile, you will be tipped.

From the background chanting started. “Tip it. Tip it. Tip it.”  Growing steadily into a fevered pitch.

Vindicator : Its time to leave.

[writer: TRAUMA - And the crowd goes wild. A brilliant recovery by the Main Man!]

As the TARDIS hurled through time and space the inside of the TARDIS was unusually quiet. THE Dragon was sitting in his room reading through his brand new Superheroing through Correspondence mail order manual. (comes with funky costume… which we will get to later) C-9 was offline recharging his battery pack. And his evil twin C-8 was nowhere to be found.

The Vindicator was toying with the TARDIS controls, randomly doing absolutely nothing.

After frustratingly confusing himself with the manual, THE Dragon came into the control room and sat down to keep Vindicator company. At Vindicator’s absolute annoyance of course.

Suddenly the doors to the control burst open in a futile attempt at making a grand entrance. There stood Trauma and Marshal Tito.

Trauma was dressed in his 3/4 length leather jacket and wore a pair of heavy red laced hiking boots. Strapped to his legs were two MAC 10s. Fully loaded. Tito was dressed in a black trousers with a white mambo shirt buttoned to the neck and a black vest overtop. Gold chains dangled from around his neck and across his shoulder was a satchel loaded with extra ammo for the UZI he was cradling in his arm. Crisco dripped menacingly from the barrel.

Trauma reached into his shoulder holster and pulled out his Spiderman PEZ dispenser and popped a cherry pez. Tito pulled a toothpick dispenser from his satchel and drew out a cinnamon flavored toothpick.

Trauma: Groovy.

Tito: Skiddily Wa-Wa.

With the two original Adventurers ready for action, its time the story began to progress.

[writer: TRAUMA - Oh yeah...]

Vindicator rubbed his chin. Looked at the panel again. He went back to rubbing his chin. Well wherever we are, thought Vindicator, we’re here. He wore the long brown coat and 14 foot scarf he found in one of the rooms. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out and chewed on a jelly baby.

THE Dragon came into the control room with C-9.

THE Dragon: Still no sign of C-8.

Trauma and Tito came into the room right after the waddling C-9.

Tito: Where are we?

Vindicator: The instruments aren’t sure. I guess the only way to find out is to go and see.

THE Dragon had put on his costume before leaving the TARDIS. This Super- heroing thing should be a snap. Snappy duds. Cool shades. And a Groovy cape.

Trauma: Nice costume.

Tito: Yeah. Looks cool.

Actually the costume was this; A pair of long red pj’s with the flap on the butt. A transparent plastic shirt with sewn on buttons on the chest. A hockey helmet with two bike reflector – one on the front and one on back. Two antennae made from stretched pen springs. A short red nylon cape, a pair of steel-toe construction boots and work socks. And to top it all off, a pair of multi-colored cycling shades.

Vindicator: Ahh yeah.

Stepping out of the TARDIS in single file, Trauma boldly lead the way. Tito swaggered belligerently, his steel plates clicking fiercely on the metal grates. THE Dragon strode out, chest extended and spoke in a deep, superhero type booming voice. Vindicator bravely tripped on the scarf into THE Dragon’s back. Inciting a heroic flex as THE Dragon took the credit for his first daring rescue.

All around them was space ships! They materialized inside a hanger/parking bay full of ships! Steel catwalks reached up dozens of levels. Coming to an elevator, they passed a somewhat sad looking robot, moping quietly to himself in the corner.

Vindicator: Excuse me? Is there something wrong?

[writer: TRAUMA - Groovy.]

Some insignificant time later, after the incident with the totally unimportant yet appropriate visual support – Marvin. The Adventurers entered the elevator and went into the Famous Milliways: The Restaurant at the End of the Universe!

Head Waiter: Table for four?

THE Dragon: Five.

Head Waiter: Five?

THE Dragon: Yes. My faithful sidekick C-9.

Head Waiter: Oh.

Nodding grimly he lead the Adventurers to their table. As they followed the head waiter, they passed a table with four people at it. Not that these people stood out any more than dozens of other bizarre creatures in the Restaurant, its just that these four happened to be part of the appropriate visual support category.

Sitting down they looked over the menu. Deciding what they wanted they ordered.

Vindicator: I’ll have the 4 pound steak and a glass of orange pop.

Suffice it to say, this attracted Trauma’s and Tito’s attention.

Trauma: Orange pop?

Tito: Would you like a chocolate eclair with that, ponce?

It also happened to attract the attention of several others around them, and filled the air with quiet snickering. But not so quiet that their intended target couldn’t tell they were laughing at him.

THE Dragon: I would like a Bologna and Mustard sandwich. With a tall refreshing glass of iced tea.

Tito: Oh brother.

Tito flicked his toothpick at THE Dragon in disgust. And then ordered himself.

Tito: I’ll have the 12 pound CHICKEN WING platter. And a chocolate milk.

He looked at C-9 and smiled and nodded sadistically. C-9 lowered himself further into the baby-stool that was placed their special for him.

Trauma: I’ll have the Surprise special… and a glass of water.

Trauma decided to play it safe with the beverage.

Waiter: How would you like your water done?

Trauma: What?

Waiter: Your Water.

Trauma: Not what as in ‘what would I like done.’ I mean what as in ’what the hell are you talking about.’

Waiter: How would you like your water prepared?

Trauma: Is there a difference?

Waiter: Yes.

Trauma: Well?

Waiter: Well what?

Trauma: The water…

Waiter: Oh… You can have it plain out of the tap. Ice cold. Warm. We also have it in several shades of yellow. Also we have it blended, pureed, grated, stirred and liquified.

Trauma: Ahhh… I think I will go with the liquified.

Waiter: Transparent or yellow.

Trauma: I would much prefer the transparent.

Waiter: Very good. I’ll be back shortly with your orders.

The Adventurers sat and watched the large window. Outside was nothing but endless infinite space. There was hundreds of people in the Restaurant, all chatting and drinking and eating. On the far wall was a stage and on the opposite side of the restaurant was a long oak bar with brass ornamentation.

They didn’t have to wait long before the waiter brought in four trays of food heaped on so heavy that it took two young semi-optimistic children to carry them.

Tito: Hey waiter! This is a hell of alot of food. What… its like you guys think the universe is gonna end soon or something.

Trauma: Hey! Taste this.

Trauma handed the glass to Tito.

Tito: Tastes like water. Why?

Trauma: Didn’t I specifically ask for it liquified? It tasted pureed to me. I gonna talk to the bartender.

Saying so he got up and made his way to the bar. Without warning somebody knocked his arm and spilt the contents all over his shirt.

Somebody: I’m terribly sorry.

Trauma: Nice going bub. Whats your name?

Somebody: Arthur. Arthur Dent.

Trauma: Arthur Dent? Your a jerk Arthur Dent. A complete asshole.

Leaving the man standing there, Trauma proceeded to the bar.

Trauma: Hey barkeep! My water wasn’t the way I ordered it.

Barkeep: Well where is your drink?

Trauma: I’m wearing it.

Looking down, the Barkeep noticed the twin MAC-10s strapped to his legs.

Barkeep: Didn’t you read the sign at the door?

Trauma: No.

Barkeep: Well it says “Check your Firearms at the Door.”

Trauma: And if I didn’t?

Barkeep: Well… are they loaded?

Trauma: Yup.

Barkeep: Drinks on the house, mack. (smiling)

Trauma: Thanks.

Testing to make sure the drink was liquified before returning to the table, he was not disappointed.

[writer: TRAUMA - Groovy.]

As Trauma walked back to the table, he passed, once more, the shell of a man that had once been Arthur Dent. Arthur was still standing where Trauma had left him. He was completely stunned. Apparently this was not one of Arthur’s better days… Trauma just grinned and continued his trek to the table, content in the knowledge that he’d totally fucked-up someone’s day.

Tito was ripping and tearing the meat off of his extra-large plate of chicken wings, while C-9 looked on in horror. Oh, the humanity.

The Vindicator, daring to tempt fate, downed his orange pop and smiled an orange little smile at Trauma as he returned.

Trauma: “Stop smilin’ at me, people will start to think you’re odd.”

The Vindicator stopped smiling and started pouring mustard in Dragon’s pockets. Unbeknownst to Dragon.

Arthur still stood in the middle of the room, thinking that whatever the universe thought it was doing he wished it would please stop.

Nobody noticed when the great Prophet Zarquon entered the room…

[writer: The Vindicator - Mostly Harmless...]

Still sporting the orange mustache Vindicator spotted a lovely three- breasted lady. She smiled back. Actually, she sort of giggled. Actually she out and out laughed. Vindicator turned back to Tito.

Vindicator: I think she likes me.

Turning back he looked for the lady. She was sitting at a table with a large man with three-arms. (convenient, eh?) She again looked at Vindicator and this time smiled sincerely. His face beginning to blush, it clashed horribly with the orange mustache. Suddenly…. sitting there perfectly still and embarrassed… he tripped on his scarf and landed on the floor.

At the same moment the Prophet Zarquon walked past that exact same spot and himself tripped over the body of the Vindicator. Head first into the next table was a terrible way to start your day. Especially when the table was occupied by two Vorgons!

Grabbing the Prophet they began thrashing him fiercely. Food and chairs flew everywhere. Vindicator was still on the floor, oblivious to all except his extreme embarrassment.

Trauma was getting fidgety as he watched the fight. Tito also watched contentedly. THE Dragon, however, was not going to stand for this. His chest expanded he strode to the side of one of the Vorgons and tapped him on the shoulder.

THE Dragon: Excuse me…..AAaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuhhhhhhh.

THE Dragon landed on another table across the room. As can be obviously foreseen, due to the chain of events established to bring to you this bit of violence, and with further encouraging from Trauma and Tito, this is destined to become the most widely talked about bar brawl in the history of the galaxy.

[writer: TRAUMA - Take it away.... YES! Vorgons! V-O-R-G-O-N-S! We couldn't do a complete rip off now could we? - hehehehehe pass the Sasparella.]

Swelling with anger and that air of heroic perfume, THE Dragon concentrated hard on the Vorgon that bashed half across the Bar. There was a sudden blast and the Vorgon was left standing with this huge gaping hole in his torso. THE Dragon was aghast at his display of heroism. He never meant to actually kill him….he sat down on the spot to contemplate his action…

Tito to C-9: Nice shot.

C-9: Thanks. These hidden blasters can be a nice touch at times.

Tito: Why did ya let THE Dragon think it was him?

C-9: We couldn’t have our most favoured comic-relief of the greatest story ever told get killed by a dumb Vorgon eh?

Tito: True. Any ways….got me some carnage to spread…excuse me

Tito said as he casually let loose a barrage of damage at the nearest ugly alien….

[writer: DRAGON!!!]

The coloured lights of Milliways glinted off the recently polished brass knuckles that Tito brandished as he laid a flurry of haymakers on the nearest ugly alien. Trauma looked up when he heard the glinting light and turned around to see the new fight that was developing.

The alien that Tito was thrashing was about man-size but a little thin, (Tito looked for ugly aliens who were weak-looking). Despite putting up a most spirited lack of defence and exhibiting signs of total capitulation he was still getting blows rained upon him from the giddy Tito. In half a minute, the alien lay unconscious on the floor with several plastic shards embedded in him (glass was hard to come by these days). Tito was praising himself on a job well-done when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around he saw three more aliens of the type he had just beaten, but each three times as large. “you play with our little brother, now we play with you…”

Tito knew he had to think fast, reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a walnut he was carrying and while twitching with false spasms said,”…if I give you a walnut, will you slap me?”

This caught the aliens off-guard, just as Tito thought. “that’s the same reaction I got when I used that line at the women’s shelter,” thought Tito to himself. The delay wasn’t much, but it was enough to delay the separation of Tito’s head from his body long enough for Trauma to fly in the fracas screaming,”lousy fucking Arab bastards.”

THE Dragon was now trying to duplicate his apparent deathray power on the other Vorgons who were slowly closing in on him. Vindicator tripped on his scarf again.

[writer: -Tito]

Soon the entire bar was involved the fight. Chairs, tables, utensils and other patrons were being used in THE GREATEST BAR FIGHT EVER HAD!

THE Dragon was concentrating once again. But to no avail. Suddenly he was knocked over by several overweight women. To say the least, THE Dragon would be occupied for several moments.

Setting up on the stage near the beginning of this fiasco was a small band. Chicken wire was strung up in front and the banner read “Whiskey Jack”. However this was not the main feature.

Tito and Trauma were in trouble. The three large muscular aliens were joined by two more. And It was a sure bet the walnut trick had played out its usefulness. They got some breathing room for about a second, and then as Tito was trying to formulate a plan Trauma jumped back in swinging. After being pummeled sufficiently they tossed Trauma back and called Tito to come back and play. They were doomed.

C-9 was backed into a corner by a group of Jawas. The lousy little scavengers began dismantling his parts. C-9 couldn’t blast fast enough.

Voice over the speakers: “Hey Tom, ever been to Tilsonberg?”

Stompin’ Tom: “Tilsonberg? My back still aches when I hear that word.”

Tito and Trauma miraculously renewed in strength, marched back towards the aliens with a inspiring vigor.

THE Dragon as can be seen by the immense pile of large, fat women…was quite busy. It seems that one of the sewn on buttons on his plastic shirt was a Fat Women Magnet. To this, Vindicator was relieved, for he was no longer the designated “fat magnet.”

All together 24 fat women had piled on top of THE Dragon. Two more were being pulled into the room at that moment.

[writer: TRAUMA - Total Carnage! I love it!]

Trauma popped a cherry pez from his Hugh Hefner pez dispenser and Tito squirted a little Binaca onto his tonsils… They grinned at one another and jumped into the fray…

All that could be seen of Dragon was a couple of large antennae which protruded from between a rather large woman’s legs.

C-9 managed to escape the Jawa’s (minus his left wing) and was now tangled up in the chicken wire…

The Vindicator (standing once again) reached into his pocket and pulled out his keychain (which was feared throughout the land) and assisted Trauma & Tito in pummelling the large beasties. The beasties saw his orange moustache and fell down laughing (which left them wide open to attack). Trauma & Tito (being the dastardly types that they are) jumped at the opportunity. Trauma kicked one of them in the ribs until it started coughing up blood, while Tito demonstrated Louisville-Kwon-Do to another beastie.

The Vindicator went to the washroom to clean his face.

[writer: The Vindicator - Theresa wasn't fat!]

Reaching down to the rear of his costume, THE Dragon undid the button used to washroom activities and slipped out. Unable to see what was happening to his comrades THE Dragon climbed up onto the nearest bar and grabbed a low hanging piece of wire.

‘If I can’t use the costume approach…I’ll try the Indy-style as taught to me in chapter 5 of my correspondence text book’

Unhitching the wire from the wall THE Dragon (in the dismal crusade) swung down towards the rotund group of women intent of delivering a double kick to knock them out of the room. Unfortunately there were two things THE Dragon didn’t consider….A) he was leaning forward in his swing with his legs BEHIND him…and B) the length of wire was longer then he judged  and the floor met THE Dragon rather suddenly. With an incredible thud, THE Dragon was planted face first into the floor of the Bar(just newly polish last night) and remained there for a few dazed moments….

[writer: DRAGON!!!]

Fat women still were sucked in through the front door and piled increasing higher on top of the suit.

Shaking the effects of the introduction to the floor, THE Dragon stood up. Clad in nothing but his super-stretch Fruit of the Looms, he once again strode forward into the battle ground.

Trauma: Hey Tito!

Tito: What?

Trauma: This is starting to hurt.

Tito: Yeah. What do you suggest?

Trauma: We should leave.

Tito: Any suggestions on how?

Trauma: Quickly.

Of course this was impossible. The large aliens had increased their numbers and overwhelmed Trauma, Tito and Vindicator. And once again the three Adventurers got smacked.

C-9: This is really embarrassing.

C-9 was hung up on the chicken wire, while a Stompin’ Tom, kept on a stompin’! The Jawas closed in on their elusive target. However he was caught way to high for them to reach. Being the clever little bastards they are, they would eventually find away to pull him down. By that time, the semi-pessimistic and semi-naked Dragon would arrive to help his little side-kick.

[writer: TRAUMA - Pain.]

Dragon staggered to his feet only to find a stampede of female heffers flying at him at an impressive velocity… He immediately turned tail and ran to the opposite side of the bar. Dragon positioned himself perfectly so that the bar was directly between him and the shamu’s in training. They ceased their advance, but as the solid oak counter top which ran all round the bar began to splinter, he realized that something had to be done, PDQ!

Dragon threw his Super-Stretch Fruit-of-the-looms at a piddly little coward who was leaving the bar and the bovine babes bounced blearily out of the bar. As they left, the ensuing vacuum which was created by their speedy departure caused the heads of the beastie aliens to explode, thus terminating yet another dilemma.

How did our hero’s survive? Well, Dragon’s helmet was created to operate in a vacuum, so he was spared (joy). Tito had noticed what was happening just in time to smear crisco in his ears, thus creating an inverse vacuum within his skull. Trauma slipped on his peril-sensitive glasses and was oblivious to the whole thing. The Vindicator had his ego to protect him.

[writer: The Vindicator - The centre of your universe...]

The evil C-8 rolled around the tardis constructing a large trap out of bits of machinery and a small amount of explosive from the ships armory(stocked by the Trio, of course)

The sinister robot had booby trapped the ships supply of Crisco. How absolutely fiendish! To complete the set-up, C-8 rolled back into Tito’s room to empty his portable supply canister, but just then Tito woke up. After yawning and scratching himself a couple of times he made an ”elbow-room” gesture with his arms as he commented to C-8,”sure is roomier in the Tardis, eh C-8? Hey what are you looking for? Get lost.”

“Yes master,” replied C-8.

Tito began wandering around the tardis in a confused state groping with the possibility of the irreversible loss of his compatriots(he also groped himself as he groped with the idea).

Trauma was getting bored with floating in the ether. Nothing was happening. Just then he remembered he had bought his zippo lighter from a greasy street vendor in a dark alley in Hull, Quebec who assured him after Trauma’s insistence, that it would work in the ethereal (Trauma was obviously a wise consumer). He now pulled it out and turned it over in his hand and flashed an evil ether grin <EEG!> and flicked it.

Surprisingly (for the reader anyway, Trauma never had any doubts) a real flame sprang forth from the zippo. What did surprise him was that the ether was ignited and started to burn fiercely . Just then he heard sirens and saw an ethereal craft approach him. It used a real water cannon (probably bought from the same greasy street vendor) and doused the flames before Trauma was consumed. “Oh shit!” exclaimed Trauma, “it’s the Ether police.”

Due to Trauma’s inability to move he was quickly arrested and brought back in ether-irons to the ether police station/jail/recreation centre.

After he was brought in front of a judge he was unchained and the judge read out the charges, “You, Trauma, stand accused of the charges of loitering in a no loitering ether-zone, arson of ether, ether-walking, disturbing the ether, entering the ether without a valid passport, ether-passing, violation of the ether cluster law in accordance with the Brauskeller Convention and two counts of hooliganism.”

In the face of these charges all Trauma could say was,”…call me Zmiaaaaaaaaaa.”

Naturally, he was found guilty and sentenced to row in the ether slave galleys for 61 years.

As he was led away he passed by a recreational time-space anomaly chamber and surprising his guards he broke loose and jumped inside and was whisked away <Whoosh> before his captors could catch him.

Trauma could sense he was floating in a sea of brilliant colours. He felt many sensations which overloaded his brain’s capacity to register them all. It was like being rolled by 15 Arab punks at the side of a road somewhere. Unfortunately, this time it was more than he could handle and soon he passed out.

[writer: -Tito]

While in one of his many deep trances, Dragon saw once again that his friends were in trouble. Now a master of the Yogi, Dragon(now calling himself THE Dragon) reached out in his astral form and gently hauled in the unconscious from from the netherworld of pleasure from which he had slipped into.

THE Dragon: Rest easy brave comrade. There are a great many things which must be done in order to save our imperilled friends.

THE Dragon willed his mind once more into the true Astral world and searched through the mystic void until he found the Tardis. Seeing that his friend(term used not so loosely now) was in quite a predicament he sent him a mental message which could transcend many mortal boundaries.

THE Dragon: “Vindicator…..you must go to the power source of the Tardis and touch it”

Insubstantial Vindicator: “What? Dragon?! Get out of my head you putz!”

THE Dragon: “I am now called THE Dragon and you must do as I say or all else is lost”

Near-non-existent Vindicator: “If you can at ALL comprehend what kind of state I am in, you will see that I can’t touch a damn thing!”

THE Dragon: “You must trust me Vindicator. The Tardis’ power source is the only thing that can save you. I have rescued Trauma from the Ether-world where the Evil C-8 trapped him. He MUST be stopped Vindicator! You must get to the Tardis’ power source!”

Obviously-screwed Vindicator: “Fine! Heeyyyy…wait a minute! If I do that….I won’t be able to spy on the women!”

But THE Dragon’s voice was gone. Vindicator decided he might as well head on down to find this power source, but he had no idea where the engine room of this thing was….

[writer: New and improved and much wiser than a mortal man it's...THE Dragon!!!]

The Vindicator began to walk down some stairs to one of the lower levels of the TARDIS… Unfortunately, when he was phased, he was wearing his abnormally long scarf…. Yes. You are right… He tripped, sailed 30 ft. through absolutely nothing and disappeared through the TARDIS wall… Well, this was just great. Not only was he insubstantial, but now he was floating in deep space. If not for YATI’s he’d suffocate and die, but this dilemma was conveniently overlooked… So… How to get back inside the TARDIS. He had no means of propulsion… He tried to pass wind, but it was just as insubstantial as the rest of him… He tried to lasso the TARDIS with his scarf, but if just passed through the walls…

He was just about to give up hope and die, when a Romulan (who had been phased several months earlier) bumped into him and knocked him back into the TARDIS. The Vindicator flashed a winning smile at no-one in particular and continued his trek to the engine room.

[writer: The Vindicator - Entirely Non-Canon.]

Simultaneously all four adventurers had the same thought. Whats with all this Star Trek stuff? With an equally simultaneous shrug they forgot about it..

In the engine room, the Vindicator spotted C-8. Ducking back so he wouldn’t be seen, he remembered that he actually couldn’t be seen. With that he strode bravely into the room…. and tripped on his scarf. Thank Koresh for YATI’s!

C-8 had finished talking to himself (out loud) about his grand plans. Unfortunately the Vindicator had entered the room too late. Rolling out of the room C-8 vanished into the Tardis. After a few moments and two more stumbles later he touched the mechanism as THE Dragon had indicated. Again his hair was overwhelmed by a major case of curiosity, this time wanting to see what he was up to. Bolts of energy shot through his ethereal body. Falling to the ground unconscious, the Vindicator returned to his corporeal form. However he was not going to do much more at the moment due to his unconsciousness…

MEANWHILE:

THE Dragon had expended much of his power contacting the Vindicator that his hold on Trauma had faltered and then completely slipped away. Spinning off into the Time-Space Vortex… Trauma hurtled to a time and place as yet unknown….

[writer: TRAUMA - Ok... leave me out of it until my next post... I have plans for myself...]

THE Dragon: Ooops.

[writer: DRAGON!!!]

As The Vindicator lay unconscious in the engine room, Trauma plummeted further and further into a space-time vortex and THE Dragon tried to regain his hold on Trauma, Tito began to smear peanut butter on his legs (cuz wax is too painful)… He went in search of a banana (peanut butter and banana’s! Try it!).

Taking a minute to ponder the situation, he decided that the most likely place to find a banana would be the kitchen. Taking a minute to ponder the situation, he decided that the most likely place to find a kitchen would be on one of the lower levels. Taking a minute to ponder the situation, he decided against the banana.

Tito shot bolt-upright in his bed.

Tito: “Whew! What a weird dream! I’d never put peanut butter on my legs! I’m too macho for that tomfoolery!”

Tito wiped the beads of sweat from his brow and went off in search of The Vindicator…

[writer: The Vindicator - Lunkhead extraordinaire!]

Tito soon discovered Vindicator lying unconscious on the floor of the engine room. Tito quickly pulled out his smelling salts and used them to try to revive Vindicator. Actually, they weren’t really smelling salts. It was actually an old sardine can filled with chunks of dried crisco that had been soaked in a bucket of scope mouthwash (you never know when it might come in handy). Not surprisingly Vindicators eyes flickered open and immediately he rolled over and puked out his guts on the floor (“you have a lovely pancreas”, observed Tito). When his organs were replaced Vindicator jumped to his feet and began to say to Tito,”…golly am I glad to see you. I have the strangest story to tell you about where I’ve been the last couple of days.”

Tito: Yeah, yeah, tell me later, but now you must come to the control room there is something we must do.” and with that he disappeared down the corridor. Vindicator followed.

Tito: Show me how to turn it on.

He said while pointing at the control panel. Vindicator leaned over and pulled a large red lever that was labelled in big neon letter”Power:On”. The panel sprang to life. Tito began adjusting controls on the panel like a man possessed.

“What are you doing?” asked Vindicator, full of apprehension.

“Trust me,” replied Tito,” this just has to be done. Load up the Mack-10s.”

In minutes, Tito, without really knowing what he was doing, had sent the Tardis hurtling through the ether to some unknown destination.

“Shouldn’t we pick up THE Dragon?” naively asked Vindicator.

“No, I don’t trust him now with this yoga business and that C-9 seems completely in his power. At least I have a loyal C-8, eh little buddy?” replied Tito.

“Oh sure, anything you say. You’re so great <HACK> <SPEW>”confirmed C-8 with false sincerity that was unnoticed by the frantic and machismo-oozing Tito.

Suddenly the door opened and Tito said, “This is it! Kill everything that moves and everything else too!” he said brandishing twin Mack-10s. Vindicator followed.

They were in some kind of a house. In the living room there was a large very hairy man talking to a skinny blonde swede. The sounds of machine gun fire shattered the coziness of the scene and both were cut down very easily and messily.

As the Swede lay on the ground in a pool of his own blood while coughing up more of his own,”Huey…<KOFF> <KOFF> <GAG>…I think this is the end…”

Huey replied,”Hunnhhh….. I’ve always loved you, Sven.”

Just then the rocket launcher poised on Tito’s shoulder (he called it Polly, “Polly want a LAW rocket?” )fired and blew up the entire living room with a resounding KABLOOIE!!!.

“You were right,” said Vindicator, cradling his smoking shotgun barrel,” you did have to do this.”

Without another word, thy returned to the Tardis and dematerialized.

[writer: -Tito: uh, sorry...]

The wailing siren caught THE Dragon’s attention. Knowing what the sound was, he quickly ran to the source. C-9 followed. And Yogi was swatting a large snake with a wiffle bat.

The Blue Police Box was a welcomed sight. After what seemed like 5 years to Dragon was indeed 5 years. To Vindicator and Tito it only a few weeks.

Dragon: “For awhile there, I had my doubts. But you came back for me.”

Tito: “Actually… we are just as surprised as you. I was heading for Earth and the Kit Kat Club for some Mambo.”

Dragon: “So whats been happening?”

The wiffle bat was quite ineffective against the snake.

Vindicator: “Well there’s a duplicate of C-9 running around somewhere inside the TARDIS and he’s trying to kill us.”

Choking violently, Yogi mustered all his Yoga powers of meditation.

Dragon: “Gadzooks! Its one of C-9′s prototypes.”

Tito: “You mean there’s more?”

Unfortunately… the snake was in a state of denial, and disbelieved Yoga’s power.

Dragon: “We must find him and stop him. By the way… Where’s Trauma?”

The wiffle bat floated on the muck for a few months, until a tiny bipedal mammal found it and stored it away inside its underground lair.

[writer: TRAUMA - Continued.... on next post.]

Meanwhile….

The streets were filled with horses and cowboys. Women wore bonnets and children hassled store owners. Saloons and Brothels lined the streets of Windy Gulch.

In the corner of a dingy saloon sat Trauma, the Oklahoma Skid. A Dusty black hat and poncho were his trade mark. Two colt .45 hung at his sides in well oiled holsters.

He propped his feet on the table and downed another shot of whiskey. Suddenly the swinging doors wooshed open and there stood three of the nastiest hombres this side of Dodge City. They entered.

Cowboy 1: “Milk. Cold.”

Trauma: “Did I just hear you order milk, boy?”

Cowboy 1: “Yeah. Whats of it?”

Trauma: “Oh nothing… I was just making sure.”

For a few seconds all was pretty tense. Then it escalated from there…

Trauma: “I always figured milk was for pussies and Faggots!”

Well that was it. The three cowboys turned and stood ready to defend their right at an alternative life style.

Cowboy 2: “We don’t take kindly to those remarks boy.”

Cowboy 3: “I think maybe you apologize. Real nice like.”

With lightning speed. He drew his colts and cut them down here they stood. Getting up and walking out he passed one still alive. Trauma saw the fear and surprise in the man’s eyes.

Cowboy 1: “Wh- Who are you?”

Trauma : “They call me Oklahoma Skid.” And then he shot him.

Bartender: “Why did ya do it Oklahoma?”

Trauma: “Why else? I’m an asshole.”

His spurs jingled as he hummed a tune down the street.

Trauma: “hum humm humm-humm A-S-S-H-O-L-E…. A-S-S-H-O-L-E….”

[writer: TRAUMA - Groovy... I reckon.]

THE Dragon, realizing that it was himself that lost Trauma, he probed the multiverse of possibilities to find some sort of trail of their misplaced companion.

THE Dragon: I’ve found him! Let’s go!

Back to the Tardis they fled, leaving a rather baffled Yoga Master and a snake in perfect denial(the first sign of pregnancy). THE Dragon punched in a few coordinates into the Tardis’ control panel and asked how to get it to go.

Vindicator smacked his head and pulled the level with the bright glowing neon sigh that said “Power: ON”. With a while and a whine(soon to be served with cheese) they disappeared into the nether mists of time and space.

They reappeared inside a Hospital.

Vindicator: You idiot! We’re in a Trauma UNIT!

THE Dragon: Ooops. Hmmm….this universal conscious must be on the blink….

Nearby Doctor: Hey! What are you doing in here with that….phone booth!

Tito: I’ll handle this one.

Tito leveled his rocket launcher and wasted him(plus half the Trauma unit)

Vindicator: Why’d ya do that?

Tito: Witnesses. Never leave witnesses.

Vindicator: Oh. Let’s go back.

Back into the Tardis they went, with some more funky noise they disappeared. Randomly they reappeared……

[writer: DRAGON!!!]

As Trauma trotted along the street on his horse, named Horse. He continued humming the tune. From under his dusty poncho he pulled out from a mini shoulder holster a SPIDER-MAN PEZ DISPENSER! And popped a few pez.

Yes… the mighty PEZ DISPENSER! The only sole object truly in Trauma’s possession that he can call his very own. Everyone kept trying to steal this from him! But he won’t have it! Huddling the SPIDER-MAN PEZ DISPENSER close to his chest he peered around looking for suspicious folk obviously jealous of his possession.

He hated them all! The little bastards… with their bushy tails! Popping another pez he tucked it away again and rode on. Humming much softer now, and keeping one hand ready on his Colt .45.

[writer: TRAUMA - ITS MINE DAMN IT!]

The Tardis materialized some 30 feet above the surface of the planet (Thanks to THE Dragon’s total lack of any co-ordinate plotting skill). The Vindicator just rolled his eyes as they plummeted to the surface… Conveniently, the Tardis is indestructible… The horse it landed on, however, was not.

Trauma was surprised at nearly being squashed by the Tardis. His horse didn’t have time to be surprised. It’s mind (now oozing out from below the Tardis) could no longer deal with surprise (or much else).

Trauma dismounted what was left of his horse and entered the Tardis. Upon entering, the first thing he did was to slap THE Dragon on the head.

THE Dragon: “Why’d you slap me???”

Trauma: “Who else would have materialized 30 feet in the air???”

THE Dragon just pouted…

Tito briefly acknowledged Trauma’s presence and then returned to polishing his newly-acquired Surface-To-Air missile.

[writer: The Vindicator - Planes, Trains and Automatic Weapons...]

Amidst his pouting, THE Dragon came upon a brilliant idea to save the Universe and was about to voice his Omnipotent idea when C-9 came in.

C-9: Master!

Shaken from his revelry, and losing the idea in doing so, THE Dragon addressed his faithless companion.

THE Dragon: I know. Time for your oil bath…

C-9: NO! Come with me!

THE Dragon, following his follower went into the back of the Tardis. C-9 took him to a small room and showed him a plaque that was upon the wall.

“HMGS Tardis”

THE Dragon: What does it mean?

C-9: It means Her Majesty’s Groovy Ship Tardis!

THE Dragon: So? What’s so important that I don’t already know?

C-9: Don’t you get it? The group of you are the…(ominous music) THE GROOVY TEAM!

Vindicator, retaining and hiding that special ability to phase through walls overheard this and went to smack his forehead but his hand passed through it, he sighed.

C-9 brought out some small metal stars with H.M.G.S Tardis on them. He put one on THE Dragon’s chest….ok…so it had to be glued to his tunic, but it was at least now visible.

THE Dragon: We MUST tell the others!

Off they went back to the control room. Tito was crooning quietly to his newest toy missile, Trauma was popping another Pez, careful not to let anyone see, Vindicator walked through a door(and strangely enough no one noticed).

THE Dragon: OK all of you! We have been given a mission! This come from the highest of authorities!

Tito: Authority? What? Who’s?

THE Dragon: Ummm….would you believe I don’t know?

Trauma: Yep!

THE Dragon: Any ways..I have the badges for us to wear so that all may see and recognize who we are!

Vindicator: Badges? We don’t need no steenking badges!

Tito: There go the copyrights again!

Trauma: Heyyyy….neat badges! Makes me look like some sort of law enforcer! What’s this writing?

THE Dragon: H.M.G.S Tardis!

Vindicator: We can see that putz!

Slaps THE Dragon on the head.

THE Dragon: Oh! Her Majesty’s Groovy Ship Tardis!

Trauma: Groovy? Cool!

Vindicator: No no no, Groovy! Not cool!

So off were our newest brand of “law”(note quotes) enforcers!(note exclamation mark). But what was in store for them next? Aliens? Monsters? THE Dragon’s incompetence(sp?)? Find out in our next post!

[writer: DRAGON!!!]

The lights went dim and there was a strange whining sound…

Trauma: Vind stop that!

Vindicator: It’s not me!

Dragon: I smell chicken…

Slimdicator: You’re just hungry..

Dragon: How do you know?

Indicator: That dial over there says so…

Dragon looked at the dial….it said ‘Dragon is hungry’. Dragon turned the dial a bit…now it said ‘Trauma is eager.’, another turn ‘Tito is willing’, another turn ‘Vindicator is ready’. Dragon decided to go exploring at this point….

The lights brightened and the dark view screen showed them something quite surprising…..

[writer: DRAGON!!! (Better?)]

The image that appeared on the view screen was disturbingly familiar, yet completely foreign to them…

After a few moments of silence, The Vindicator piped up:

The Vindicator: “I think I know where we are…”

Trauma: “You do?”

The Vindicator: “Yeah… There’s just one problem. Our presence is utterly impossible.”

Tito: “So where are we?”

The Vindicator: “We’re inside the Tardis…”

Trauma: “No shit, Sherlock!”

The Vindicator: “No, I mean that we, in OUR Tardis, materialized inside our own Tardis.”

Trauma: “That’s utterly impossible!”

The Vindicator: “Thanks for the update.”

Tito: “So what do we do?”

Trauma: “We could leave our Tardis and go into our Tardis…”

The Vindicator: “No… If there’s one thing that the BBC has taught me it’s that meeting oneself would cause a temporal anomaly of catastrophic proportions… Perhaps even strong enough to rip the very fabric of time and unravel the universe.”

Trauma: “That could be fun to watch…”

The Vindicator: “Yeah, but only once.”

Tito: “So what do we do now?”

Dragon: “Why not ask my new friend?”

Dragon emerged from one of the many (many) back rooms within the

Tardis. Waddling behind him was a small metallic animal with the letter C and the number 9 on it’s chest…

The Vindicator: “What the hell’s that?”

Dragon: “C-9″

Trauma: “What’s a C-9?”

Dragon: “My computerized chicken… I just built it out of some old spare parts I found in the back. C-9!”

C-9: “Master?”

Dragon: “Say something intelligent…”

C-9: “You’re a putz…”

The Vindicator: “I could learn to like this programmable poultry.”

Dragon just grumbled and played a little pocket pool.

C-9: “Temporal Anomaly detected… Suggest immediate dematerialization!”

The Vindicator: “What the hell… We’re not gaining anything by staying.”

The Vindicator entered a couple of random co-ordinates and threw the lever. There was a sickening lurch within the Tardis which made everyone’s stomach jump one foot to the left. The entire universe seemed to fold in on itself and then belch out a small blue box…

[writer: The Vindicator - Star Trekking across the universe...]

Trauma: That was neat.

Vindicator: Skiddily wa wa…. ah- never mind.

Hanging in the ether, the blue box just… hung there. Awkwardly. The little light on top flashed rhythmically. Inside the Tardis the Adventurers were quite bored. It seems that this usually happens when they nothing to do.

Dragon: I’m bored.

Tito : I’m willing.

Vindicator: What?

Trauma: Here chickee, chickee, chickee.

Hours passed as Vindicator sitting cross-legged reading a large, well indexed Tardis Operation Manual before anything of importance happened.  Suddenly…it was one minute after the last one. Tito and Dragon went exploring the Tardis was Trauma was motioning to C-9, trying to get him to do various tricks for a small half gnawed kernel of  corn he found in his pocket under a wad of lint. It wasn’t going so well.

Trauma: Play dead.

C-9: No.

Trauma: Roll over.

C-9: No.

Trauma: Sit up and beg.

C-9: No.

Trauma: Chase your tail.

C-9: Go away.

Trauma: No.

C-9: Leave me alone.

Trauma: No.

C-9: Stick your head in a temporal anomaly

Trauma: Okay.

Suddenly… it was one minute past the last minute. Slamming the manual closed Vindicator leapt to his feet and glanced at the console. There… labeled in block letter under a big red lever was the word ”MATERIALIZE”

Vindicator: I’m a genius.

Pulling the lever, the Tardis began its familiar siren-wailing. Solid ground. But where?

[writer: TRAUMA - No.]

They were in a swamp.

Dragon: It’s wet.

Vind: Oooo…he’s so smart! Knot!

Trauma: That’s NOT!

Tito: How can you tell the diff?

Trauma: I know Vind!

C-9: There is something outside the Tardis…

They all looked at the metal chicken and then to where his beak was pointing to at the screen. The lighting outside was not very good and they saw a shadow moving….

Tito: Alright…let’s go check it out..heh, heh, heh.

He said picking up his peril sensitive shades.

Trauma: Right!

He said picking up Vind!

Vind: I’m ready!

He said picking up the manual

Dragon looked at the indicator, sure enough it said that Vindicator was indeed ready.

Dragon: Might as well.

He said picking up C-9 but almost put out his back at the weight so he decided to let him waddle out.

Once outside Vindicator aimed his pez dispenser at the creature in the dark. With a high-pitched, warbly voice they heard it speak…

Creature: Away put your weapon…I mean you no harm…

Tito narrowed his eyes. Trauma aimed Vindicator, Dragon thought “oh no!”

“What is it you seek here?” asked the little creature.

“Who are you?” demanded Tito.

“I am Yoga! Master of all Yogi!”

Dragon: Master! I have been searching for you! Please teach me the Way!

Vindicator turned his pez to Dragon! Trauma dropped Vindicator in astonishment, Tito slapped his forehead.

Tito: Alright enough of this. We have a job to do!

Trauma: We do?

Vind: Yes! We rob from the rich!

Trauma: You mean like Robin Hood? Rob from the rich and give to the poor!

Tito: No…we rob from the rich and pretty much keep it!

Dragon: Master. My friends seek to leave, what must I do?

Yoga: You must do what your gut tells you my son….

Dragon: But the chicken is made of steel!!!

Yoga baffed him on the head with his wiffle bat. “You must stay and learn the ways of the Yogi young Dragon. Then and only then will you be able to reach inner happiness.”

Vindicator: Oh brother! I say we leave him and the metal poulet here to rust!

Trauma: But, but, but…

Tito(whispered): Not now Trauma…later tonight in the Tardis.

Trauma gave him a sharp look.

Tito: Oh…you mean keeping the party together! AHEM…hmm….well we DO have a time machine….we’ll just go forward to when his training will be complete and pick him up then come back and continue with our busy schedule.

Vindicator: I say it’s a waste of time!!

Trauma: Does it matter? We have a time machine with ALL the time in the universe! Heyyyyy….there was this one chick….hmmm….

C-9: Dragon stays for his training. I will stay to guard him. The rest of you take the Tardis and we’ll catch up with you in a few years.

Tito: You mean a few seconds. <G>

C-9: Whatever!

The group parted, the blue box whined and the little light flashed and Dragon was left to train with Yoga and learn the ways of the Yogi.

[writer: DRAGON!!! (Well...do enjoy!<BG>)]

And so the original Trio were back in the stolen Tardis hurtling into the future to pick up Dragon. Once in motion Tito said to the others,” well we don’t have to pick him up right away, do we. I mean we’ve got all time to get him. I say we zip back to earth and materialize in a military armory and load up with hardware since there’s nothing stopping us from materializing inside, eh?”

Trauma and Vindicator agreed but the computer had to plot a course and the computations to appear inside the exact spot would take some time so the Trio had to amuse themselves for the next hour. Trauma immediately started polishing his nickel-plated zippo.

Almost an hour later, C-9 returned from the maintenance room to see Tito posed over the kitchen sink and Trauma at the laundry room sine. C-9 asked “What’s going on”

Ignoring him, Tito said,”ok, one, two, three – go!” and both he and Trauma turned on the cold water faucets full blast. A shriek of pain was heard that sounded like Vindicator’s voice.

“…Hee, hee, hee…” chuckled Tito and Trauma heinously. Vindicator was taking a shower.

[writer: ...TITO LIVES! -just an interlude of siliness...]

Suddenly, Tito realized that C-9  was left on the planet with Dragon and Yoga! Boy was his face red!

The Vindicator flicked a couple of switches, pushed a couple of buttons and turned a couple off dials and eventually, the linear continuity of the universe (and this story) was resolved…

They continued…

The TARDIS materialized inside a small, forgotten weapons bunker somewhere in the mid-southern region of the USA. The walls were lined with various tools of death that had been forgotten by this Kinder, Gentler America. Quad-Pack RPGL’s, M-16′s with night scopes and targeting lasers, Miniguns, Plastic Explosives, Semi-Automatic Pez dispensers…

Trauma and The Vindicator looked around with interest… Tito began to drool.

[writer: The Vindicator - Must I do EVERYTHING???]

Trauma: Groovy.

Vind and Tito: Skiddily wa wa.

They roamed around the ammo bunker picking up and playing with their new found toys. The place was fairly big, and loaded to the tits! Within 2 hours the Trio had packed one of the TARDIS’ chambers with all the ordnance.

Tito: Lets start a revolution.

Trauma rubbed his chin. Vindicator also rubbed his chin. Trauma smacked Vindicator and told him never to touch him again.

Trauma: Where are we gonna start a revolution? Its kinda tough to find a spot…

Tito: Why not just go back into time and join a worthy cause.

Vindicator: But that could alter history.

Trauma and Tito: Your point?

Vindicator: Just indicating the obvious.

Trauma: Fuck the revolution. I say we go back in time and use all this heavy firepower to get rich.

Tito: Yeah… that’s a worthy cause if I ever heard of one.

Vindicator: Do we pick up Dragon and C-9?

Tito: Naaa. We’ll pick them up later. First, lets make a quick stop at the women’s shelter.

[writer: TRAUMA - Dialogue.]

When the Trio returned to the control room of the Tardis heavily laden with their choice of sidearms and incidental weapons they stopped dead in their tracks when they saw the C-9 that had been thought to have been mistakenly a figment of Tito’s deranged and twisted imagination. Vindicator whispered to Tito,”now I see it too. How about you, Trauma?” Trauma nodded.

Tito:(all still whispering) Ha! I told you so. It must be a spare C-9.

Every well equipped Tardis has a spare.

Trauma: How do you know that?

Tito: No idea. I just made it up.

The Trio agreed that this was what had happened and they resumed normal voices and entered the room.

Tito: (to “C-9″) We can’t have two C-9s because it confuses me so we’ll call you C-8, okay.

“C-9″: That’s fine with me, bucko, hehehehehehehehe.

The robotic chicken thought to itself, ha, these saps have bought it. Little do they know that I am the prototype of the real C-9. These rubes will be easy to eliminate and then I’ll eliminate that goody-two shoes brother of mine, C-9.

Yes, readers, the Trio in their blissful ignorance had accidentally activated the Lor model robotic chicken while poking around the Tardis. Soon they would pay for their folly.

The Trio went to sleep eventually and C-8 rolled over to Trauma and woke him up,”master, my sensors indicate that the AE-35 unit on the external satellite antenna will go 100% non-functional in 25 minutes. It must be replaced.”

Tito stirred from his sleep after an apparent nightmare,” yeah, little girl, keep petting the puppet like that and I’m sure it will tell you a story. Yeah, like that, ohhhhh yeaaahhhhhh, that’s it faster, faster, uh what? It’s the cops shit, they caught me. She told me she was fourteen, officer, I swear.”

Trauma shook him violently.

Tito: Lemme go, I won’t do it again, I swear it! Uh, wha, uh, Oh

Trauma, it’s you. I must have been having a nightmare.

Trauma: The AE-35 unit is broken. What do think we should do.

Tito:(snapping back at Trauma) Well take your MacGuyver knife and go and fix it. Leave me alone, I’m busy sleeping.

Trauma went out the door of the Tardis and climbed on top of the Tardis’ roof. Unfortunately the Tardis was hurtling through the ether at this point.

Trauma remarked,”hey, there’s no satellite antenna out here. What the hell is going on?” Almost as answer to his question, he heard the door to the Tardis slam shut and he drifted away into the Ether.

Inside C-8 was chuckling diabolically,”heeheehee. Whoops! There he goes!”

Trauma sat silently drifting in the Ether,”damn.” He suddenly realized that the presence of the ether reminded him of his childhood. “This must be upper class ether, we were lucky to be able to live in an infinity of ether only a fraction of this size. We had good belts though.”

[writer: -Tito, ether, it ebbs and it flows.]

Yoga: You MUST conCENtrate! You will never master the art of the Yogi if you continue to think like that!

Dragon trips and falls while he walked along a path. “But Master… The chicken doesn’t mind!”

The little green midget jumps up and side kicks him in the head. “But _I_ do!”

Dragon gets up again and closes his eyes and suddenly exclaims

“Master! My friends(term used loosely) are in trouble! I must go save them!”

Yoga: What did you see?

Dragon: Mist, Trauma floating and thinking about his childhood, C-9 laughing….it’s all very hazy Master.

Yoga: I TOLD you to stay away from the mushroom pasture!!! You are hallucinating! Now let’s try this again…

Dragon and his Yogi Master once again go back to Dragon’s studies in the art of the Yogi and as for his friends(term used loosely)…well…I guess they’re fucked…

C-8 realized that if he was to be successful in his plan, The Vindicator would have to be the next to go. Only his superior intellect could pose a threat to C-8′s plans. He would have to be…. dealt with.

Trauma was still floating through the never, er… ether, and Tito was in his room having yet another nightmare.

Tito: “No, not the rat-tail!”

“I’ll be good! Don’t beat the evil out of me!”

“Argh!”

C-8 opened the control panel at the base of the Tardis control panel and began a little “Bob Vila” work on the wiring. He clucked a metallic little cluck as he worked. “Yes”, he thought… “This will do nicely.”

[writer: The Vindicator - Ethereal...]

Hiding behind the antique coat rack, C-8 rubbed his metallic wings together as he watched The Vindicator enter the room. He already stumbled once as he stepped on his long scarf. Adjusting it, Vindicator once and strode forward. Within two steps he stumbled again.

Vindicator: Maybe I should have given the scarf to Trauma. That way he would trip into something solid and heavy. (No one knew exactly what Trauma was doing at that very moment)

Determined to try out some new things, Vindicator flicked the switch. This was the same one C-8 had rigged to do the following heinous, devious thing to whoever flicked the switch.

Vindicator was jolted by a current of energy that sent his hair (all over his body) into fits of curiosity. It seemed each hair wanted to see which one was the tallest.

Vindicator: mmmmm…mmmm..mmmmmmmm….mmm…m…m…mmmmmm

He began fading. Soon Vindicator had become invisible. But not only Invisible… he was phased! He could pass through anything much like a ghost.

C-8: Finally… he is gone.

Vindicator: What? Whats going on?

C-8 couldn’t hear him or see him or feel him. No one could. C-8 waddled out of the room in search of a way to get rid of the final threat.  Tito. After several hours of experimenting, Vindicator had figured out what had happened to him. He had been phased. He had to get help. But from whom? No one can hear him or see him. It was that blasted C-8! He was behind all this!

Vindicator: Although… there really isn’t a major rush. Think of the possibilities. Spying on women while they are taking bubble baths or are in the shower. Being in the room while someone is talking about you… so many things. Where should I begin?

[writer: TRAUMA - In the ether...]

THE GREATEST ADVENTURE EVER TOLD

By: Dragon, Goliath, Tito, Trauma and Vindicator, circa 1993ish

Edited by: Dragon

It all started one night as three of our main heroes staggered out of NRG one Saturday night (or early Sunday morning). Tito, Trauma and Vindicator were leaving to return home (Dragon wasn’t here yet…) from the club. They parked far away because of the parking situation. It had grown very cold and the three were freezing on the way back. They were in varying states of intoxication. Tito was sober because he was so responsible and could really hold his liquor. Vindicator was also mostly sober since he didn’t have the cash to get as shit-faced as he wanted, but Trauma – now you’re talking shit-faced!

As they walked ever onward for what seemed kilometers, the chill in the air was beginning to annoy them (except for Trauma who was feeling no pain). Tito remarked on how cold it was and Vindicator thought it would be funny to set him on fire. Casually he doused Tito with kerosene and flicked matches at his back. Not noticing, Trauma and Tito discussed their predicament.

Trauma: Yep, it sure is cold.

Tito: Yep, lucky I have my hate to keep me warm.

This brilliant dialogue continued until they neared a bridge where a freight train was passing slowly over.

Trauma: Hey, I know let’s hop aboard that freight train and cruise up to Toronto and we’ll walk up and down Younge Street.

Tito: Sure, let’s go. (Okay, maybe not completely sober)

The trio ran up and deftly hopped aboard the train and got into a box car. Vindicator made some impromptu torches out of straw in the car and the trio settled down for the ride. They closed the door to keep the wind out.

For a long time the trio sat gleefully awaiting their arrival at Toronto. Then suddenly Trauma sobered up and said “Tito, our cars are back in Burlington and we’re going to freeze to death. This is stupid. We’re going to Toronto on a freight train. This is stupid.”

Suddenly realizing their stupidity, the trio were bummed out and sat in contemplation of their presently worsening situation. The train was going way too fast to jump off now, so they’d have to wait until the train stopped at T.O. They didn’t realize that the trip had taken many hours longer than it should’ve and the next day when they awoke, the train had stopped and when they opened the door they were surprised to see…

[Writer: ...TITO SUAVE!!! (...based on an almost true story!)]

What the trio saw early that Thursday morning was quite amazing. Actually it wasn’t that amazing at all. Come to think of it, it was quite simple, depressing, but simple. Saturday night (early Sunday morning) the three would-be adventurers suffered from a severe case of what people might tend to call a near-death experience. This shock to the system placed them in a chilled, somewhat more or less, (tending to the more rather than the less) comatose state.

In fact, the train had stopped in Toronto… and then left for more northernly destinations. The city was built inside a crater, and was entirely blanketed with what looked like more or less, (tending to the more rather than the less) snow.

Trauma: “Koreshdamnit! We’re in Sudbury!”

Tito cringed and reflexively went for his brass knuckles. Nervously he glanced around, until he saw Vindicator’s quizzical look, and slowly relaxed.

Tito: “Rob Smith.” he stated plainly as if it would clarify everything. It did.

“Ahhh.” Trauma and Vindicator responded, as if they understood everything. They did. As they leaped from the freight car, Trauma and Vindicator gave a cautious look around the old rail yard.

[writer: TRAUMA - All hail Krull!]

The three (dare I say?) friends walked several yards and approached a small, dimly lit tavern. Upon entering, all motion within ceased. 2 dozen weathered faces stared at them in confusion and caution.

Trauma: “Hi! We’re not from Sudbury!”

This seemed to appease the onlookers (At least for the moment) and they returned to their beer, billiards and jail bait.

Tito: “God it’s good to be inside! It has top be 10 below out there!”

Trauma: “Time for a beer!”

The Vindicator: “I think I’ll just have some coffee.”

Trauma: “I think you are a homosexual!”

Bartender: “Hey! I don’t want any trouble in here…”

Trauma: “Maybe YOU are homosexual too, eh???”

Trauma and Tito ordered their beers and goose-stepped to the nearest unoccupied booth… The Vindicator followed with his coffee, careful not to trip over the protruding boots that mysteriously shot out from under the table as he walked by…

[writer: The Vindicator - coincidence? I doubt it...]

Okay, so the trio are in this bar, see. Trauma is eyeing the booze.  Vindicator is eyeing the boots extended in his path and Tito is eyeing the jail bait (she may be fourteen, but she’s a very mature fourteen).

Suddenly a wall caves in and a man in leather on a motorcycle rides in with a mask on his face and a chain saw in one hand. A couple of burly patrons run up and are shredded to bits by the maniac. He proceeds to destroy the whole bar including all the patrons but excluding the unholy trio for some reason (probably blinded by the combined glint of light off of Tito’s Crisco, Trauma’s boot toe caps and Vindicator’s combination Zippo lighter and polished chrome Pez dispenser in the shape of the woman with the rose tattoo.) The patrons seem only slightly annoyed at being brutally butchered with a chain saw since this is what happens on a Sudbury Saturday night. Thanks to the liberal dose of toxic chemicals from Inco in already highly alcoholic beverages, Saturday Nights in this bar (called Inco Smelting Shed #5) always last for seven days.

As quickly as he appeared, the mysterious mass murderer speeds off down the road back to his job as an employee of the Post Office.

The trio, too jaded by lengthy histories of brutal violence to be affected by the carnage they have just witnessed goose-stepped out of the smouldering wreckage and wander into a field.

The three “friends” began to feel the chill of winter again but faced with little alternative, continued to walk. Suddenly they found themselves in a cow pasture and they noticed it was quite warm. Had they discovered a scientific anomaly that would immortalize them in the annals of scientific journals? Were they witnessing the profound heating potential of spontaneous cold fusion?

——-Uh , no. You see these cows were well fed and there was a lot of manure in the pasture. Not everyone realized this right away, however.  Tito was already visualizing his statue in front of Princeton and ridiculously huge sums of money in his bank account when he exclaimed,”  Sweet Koresh, we’re the first to discover that cold fusion smells like cow shit!”

[writer: ...TITO SUAVE!!! (...alright! so it wasn't that funny - sue me!)]

“NOW what do we do?” asked Tito.

“I’ve no idea..” mumbled Vindicator.

“I’ve got a cunning plan.” commented Trauma, both Tito and Vindicator moaned partially from minors hangovers but mostly from that one statement of Trauma’s that always seem to come up at the worst possible moment.

“Ok…so let’s hear it.” said Vindicator.

“Ok, we find a road, you see. Walk down it and find someone to give us directions, you see. Then we just go home. Easy eh?”

“Smart ass.” mumbled Vindicator and followed after Trauma who had made a start for the dirt road. Soon they chanced upon a paved road, soon comparatively speaking in relationship to the length of this story, that was paved.

“Ok wise guys, which way? The road runs east and west.” said Vindicator.

“We’ll flip a coin! Heads it’s east, tails it’s west” said Trauma.

“Just where the hell did you get all these extra brain cells you’re using up? Are they loaners? Flip the bloody thing!” Vindicator said.

Trauma reached into his pocket, then tried another, then another and finally his last one. “You got a quarter I can borrow?”

Tito sighed. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Trauma flipped it and it landed on it’s side on the road, perfectly balanced. Vindicator smacked his forehead in utter fustration. ”Ok…so we stay here.” finalized Trauma.

“WHAT?! In the middle of nowhere?! You’re nuts! I think you’ve used up what little thinking power you have!” complained Vindicator.

“I think he’s right. Fate has decided thus and I shall abide by it.” commented Tito.

“Since when have YOU ever believed in Fate? I’m leaving! I’m going east! If you want to stay, fine. But I’m going!” and with that Vindicator marched off west.

“He’s going west….” muttered Trauma.

“I know.” smiled Tito.

Ten miles later Vindicator saw a car in the distance but it was hard to be sure for the sun was in his eyes as it was getting late. ‘The sun should be behind me!’ Vindicator walked closer and eventually heard cursing and swearing coming from under the hood.

“Bloody Fords! Piece of shit thing! Should have stuck with Chryslers!!! Would never have had this type of trouble!”

Vindicator couldn’t believe his ears. “Dragon?”

The guy under the hood raised his head and soundly banged it on the hood. “Vindicator?!”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, I uh,…umm…gee…wait a minute! Me? What are YOU doing here?”

“Well, I uh…umm…gee…that doesn’t matter. What is important is the fact that we are both here so let’s get this car fixed and get home!”

At that point Trauma and Tito caught up to Vindicator, swaggering extremely cocky-like.

Vindicator: I though you were staying put?

Trauma: We would have but we were curious as to how far you would go WEST when you said you wanted to go east…

Vindicator began to swell up but realized that the story must go on and decided to save it for later.

[writer: Dragon]

Now that our Trio is no longer a Trio, but rather a Trio with an extra guy, the story continues….

Somehow the four adventurers made their way back into Sudbury. Utterly confused by why they even staggered so far just to stomp through a field conveniently located in a Vortex anomaly of a Cold Fusion Zone, which smelled entirely like cow shit! Well they shrugged, at least the Koreshdamn story is finally moving again.

The lights have come on in the snow swept streets on this Sudbury Saturday Night. (It may be Thursday, but with the constant state of Sudbur-ites and their Inco induced intoxication… every night is Saturday Night) And most of these Sudbur-ites argue that whenever they look out their windows at night, everywhere they look is Sudbury!

Shivering from the weather induced chill, the four would-be adventurers stumbling into another hick-bar. Making their way to an open table, covered in beer, stale pretzels and nickel-ore ashtrays, they sat down and ordered a round of ale.

Vindicator: “Oh my Koresh! Would you look at that!” he exclaimed. For the first time they all noticed the naked women and the stage. This must be one of the famous strip clubs, Tito and Trauma have heard so much about.

With mouths open in shock. And their morals and scruples being hit from all sides by this degrading and perverted show, they all quickly pulled their chairs in and leaned closer to the stage so as to capture the full effect of this cultural ambience.

Tito: “Hey, Trauma.” looking around the room to double check if it was actually real or if he was suffering from cold induced hallucination.

Trauma: “Yeah?” without taking his eyes off the large breasted female, he continued to drool in his cigarette butt strewn stein of beer.

Tito: “Look at all these chicks.” he said in a whisper, “What looks familiar to you.” After a few moments of eyeing all the naked dancers it hit him. His eyes widened and he straightened his back. Looking at Tito to silently confirm it.

Trauma: “I think we should leave.” Tapping the other two they stood and backed out the door. Outside they quickly goose-stepped away from the strip joint.

Vindicator: “Whats wrong? Why did we have to leave?”

Tito: “Because… all the dancers had the same set of matching earings and a necklace.” Together the Trio screamed. Dragon had absolutely no idea what this meant, but he screamed as well. Their goose-stepping picked up its pace….

[writer: TRAUMA - Amusing?]

The Trio (and the other guy) ran from this den of naked Stepford wives… They were running so hard and so fast that Tito began sweating sauerkraut!

Dragon: “Why are we running?”

Trauma: “Trust me… You DON’T want to stick around there!”

The Vindicator: “Yeah! You may NEVER be able to leave! And you’ll lose all your money… It’s worse than Televangelism in there!”

Dragon: “I don’t know why, but I have a real craving for chicken just now…”

[writer: The Vindicator]

The wind whistled through the trees. The streets were empty and the light snow on the ground would soon disappear. In a few days it would be Halloween. Trauma, Tito, Vindicator and Dragon huddled in an old abandoned nickel mine on the outskirts of Sudbury.

Trauma : We’re hundreds of miles from my car, my coat and we’re freezing our asses off in some Koresh forsaken town. This is stupid.

Shivering they stood deep inside the mine shaft.

Tito : Hey guys? Do you think this is safe? I mean we can’t even see and this is after all an abandoned nickel mine.

Vindicator : Yeah… but what could possibly happen.

Crack! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhhh!! The timing was perfect.

Trauma : I think that was Dragon. The sound came from over here- AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhh!!

Vindicator : Hold it. I have a zippo.

Flicking the zippo on, Tito and Vindicator gazed at a dark hole covered in what was until a few seconds ago rotting timber. It was a shaft leading down into the depths of Inco’s dried out veins of nickel.

Tito : Are you guys alright?

Trauma : I’m fine. Good thing I landed on something soft.

After Trauma got off of Dragon’s chest they searched the area. Good thing Trauma carried a zippo as well. The lumber was dry enough to fasten together a makeshift torch and soon the bottom of the shaft was visible.

Vindicator : Don’t worry guys. We’ll get you up here in no time. Let me just fasten this rope to the over head beam.

Tito : do you think it will hold their weight.

Vindicator : I dunno. Let me check.

Snap! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! Nope. The debris and dust extinguished all the flames and again it was pitch dark. Above them they heard a loud creaking and than a heavy SNAP! The overhead beam gave way and knocked Tito into the shaft. AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhh!! Still in pitch darkness they searched around.

Trauma: Hey Tito. You okay.

Tito : Yeah. Good thing I landed on something soft.

After getting off Vindicator back they re-lit the torch. Trapped, they all knew. What now?????………..

[writer: TRAUMA - AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhhhhh!!]

Once he had begun breathing again, The Vindicator stood up and, his eyes now adjusted to the light, began to look around. On the far end of the pit was a dark shape, but the edges were smooth so he ambled over the rocks for a closer look. He eyeballed the shape in the darkness for a few moments. This was not working, so he pulled out his zippo. With one deft movement which (had he seen it) would have made Trauma VERY jealous, The Vindicator lit the wick and saw blue.

The Vindicator: “I see something blue!”

Tito: “That’s my tongue… I had a jawbreaker.”

The Vindicator: “Not unless you have an 8-foot tongue.”

Tito: “That’s what the ladies tell me!”

Trauma: “C bu O ll U sh G it H !!!”

The Vindicator ran his fingers up and down the length of the blue. It was very cold, and very smooth. He walked around to the back, tripped over a rock and stumbled forward right into the blue. Surprisingly, it gave under his weight and he landed flat on his stomach. The Vindicator realized he was now inside the blue… He stood up.

Seeing the new light source from the far side of the blue, Trauma, Tito and Dragon made their way towards the place that The Vindicator would soon outright deny tripping.

Trauma: “What did you find, Vind?”

The Vindicator: “I’m not sure… But it’s blue.”

Dragon: “Is it a whale?”

Trauma: “What the hell would a whale be doing in an abandoned Nickel mine? It’s not, is it?”

The Vindicator: “No… It’s not a whale…”

Stepping into the blue, the group stood in stunned silence.

The Group: “…”, they said, stunned.

The Vindicator: “There’s a control panel in the center…”

Dragon: “Unbelievable… It’s bigger inside than out!”

Trauma: “This is incredible!”

Tito: “This is a blatant rip off!”

Trauma: “What do you mean?”

Tito: “We’re going to steal it aren’t we?”

Trauma: “Yeah.”

Tito: “This is a blatant rip off!”

The Vindicator: “I think I found something…”

The Vindicator pushed a button on the console and the inner doors closed.

Dragon: “Great, now we’re trapped!”

Tito: “I don’t want to listen to him whine anymore…”

Trauma: “Well, you can’t kill him. It’s in his contract.”

Tito : “Jesus H. Koresh!”

Flicking a couple more buttons, The Vindicator brought the great machine to life. A small view screen appeared on the far wall. It was black.

Dragon: “Does that mean the view screen is broken?”

The Vindicator: “I think it means that there’s no light outside this thing.”

Dragon: “Oh. Never mind…”

The Vindicator: “What does ‘Enter Time Co-Ordinates’ mean?”

Trauma: “You’re asking ME?”

The Vindicator: “Right.. Sorry. Well, let’s look around. I’ll go see what’s the next room…”

The Vindicator walked through the door opposite the view screen and disappeared. The rest of the group examined the control panel, but seemed unable to interpret any of the controls…

Moments later, The Vindicator emerged wearing a long trench coat, scarf and a fedora.

The Vindicator: “Look what I found.”

Trauma: “There are very few people in the universe who could get away with wearing an outfit like that. You are not one of them.”

The Vindicator: “Sez you… Hey! There’s something in the pocket… Jelly babies!”

Dragon: “What does this button do?”

Dragon, silly boy that he is, didn’t wait for an answer… He just pushed away!

The Vindicator: “What? The one you just pushed?”

Dragon: “Yeah.”

The Vindicator: “The one marked ‘Dematerialize’?”

Dragon: “Yeah.”

The Vindicator: “Dunno.”

Just then, a rather tall, blonde man with a stick of celery pinned to his jacket was spared the embarrassment of colliding with the blue… It was gone.

[writer: The Vindicator - With apologies to the BBC...]