The Evil Pony Plot! - Part Four

The Barbie Horse has disappeared from the How-se, leaving the denizens of Spare Oom helpless before Buzzer, AKA Professor Nast-E, and her evil cohorts. The toys are getting desperate. The GI Joes have allied themselves with the Free Ponyrians, and various plastic thingys left over from last year's Christmas crackers.

Who will come to the aid of Spare Oom? Who will rid it of Buzzer's insidious perfidiousness . . . ness?


Stupid plastic koala:

Are you Joes sure about this? Going into the very lair of Professor Nast-e herself?

Joe:

We need all the intell we can get. And well, I'm the only one with legs here, apart from Snake-eyes, who can't talk.

Snake-eyes:

******* **** **** **** ******, ********!

Joe:

You don't have to be like that. And you can stop waving so aggressively...

Snake-eyes:

*****.

Joe:

Yeah, sure, no hard feelings. I'll send Sunlight here back with news. If I do end up in the dungeons, at least you know what to attack first. Let's just hope the Sunrunner gets back in time.


Buzzer:

All right, everybody! Just like we discussed! Everyone . . . fire at will!

Will:

Nooo! Why? What did I do???

Buzzer:

Mwahahahaaaa! {*cough cough*} Nothing! But I see you've lost your hatchet, and your gun hand seems to have broken off. What use are you now? You're only fit for target-practice! FIRE!

Tulip:

Very amusing, Nast-E.

Buzzer:

I thought so.

Buzzer:

Who's that you've got there? My new rug?

Tulip:

He's been spying on the Joes for us, apparently. He also chewed some of 'em up good and proper.

Buzzer:

Reeaally, now. That's gotta be useful. I mean, not that the Joes are worth spying on, but those teeth will come in very handy. And if he wants to keep them, he'll learn to be a good little gator very quickly, won't he now? 'Cos turncoats are a bit beyond the pale . . .

Gator:

Mmmmmf mmmf, numnumnum. Mmmmmm.

Tulip:

Speaking of Joes, there's one here asking to see you. Want me to throw him into the sockbasket-volcano?

Buzzer:

Naah. Send him up. Who knows, I might be entertained. I don't really have anything else scheduled for this afternoon...

Buzzer:

The name is Auricular Goldmane. This is my crocodilian associate, Strangetask.

Sunlight:

Auricular means "of the ear".

Buzzer:

I know. I don't wanna get sued, here.

Sunlight:

Oh.

Buzzer:

And who might you be, with your big silly hat and giant handlebar moustache?

Joe:

The name's Hondo. Sheamus Hondo.

Buzzer:

Neighhhahahahaaa! Sorry. Hondo, yes. Cowboy, I get that. But Sheamus? An Irish GI Joe?

Hondo:

Yes m'm.

Buzzer:

So. . . what's your opinion on the Abu Ghraib prison scandal?

Hondo:

I ain't . . . I mean, I don't have any opinions, m'm. I'm just a public servant.

Buzzer:

Actually, since the whole Iraq war thing (I took notes. Very useful.) I have come to realise a completely different meaning for "public service". A rather rude one, may I add . . .

Buzzer:

You ride like a girl, by the way. And I don't appreciate ponies who submit to the traditional paradigm. We're bigger and meaner. We should be riding the two-leggers!


Meanwhile

Tulip:

Call yourself a toy! You give the rest of us a bad name! Look at you! A cow who can't even moo!

Moo Cow: Squeeeak!

Tulip:

Aaargh! Listen to that! I'm ashamed!

Moo Cow: Squeeeaaargh!

Pooky:

Er, sorry to bother you while you're busy looking after Public Wellness, Tulip, but...

Tulip:

What is it now, Pooky?

Pooky:

You know Buzzer's experiment to be a Major Super-Villian? You know the Cat?

Tulip:

What about the cat? You're not telling me it's escaped?

Pooky:

Er. . . yes. {*cries*} And it attacked the stealth-cowboys and now they're on strike!

Tulip:

Ing ing ing! Don't cry. You'd better tell Buzzer straight away. I need to finish up here. She said she wanted a rug.

Fugley Chainsaw Massacre I:

Purr purr, mmf mmf. Rowwwwwll.

Pooky:

Professor! Professor! The stealth-cowboys are revolting!

Buzzer:

I know.

Hondo:

I say, steady on, there. That was a rather shockingly bad pun...

Buzzer:

Send gator-boy here to sort them out... I have other fish to fry. Our visitor here isn't even sure what nationality he's supposed to be of at the moment. Do you like cats, Mr Hondo?

Hondo:

Sufficiently.

Buzzer:

Good! Then Miss Bigglesworth can have you for dinner!

Buzzer:

If I had a little finger, I could put it next to my mouth now. But I have to go. I think Mini-Miauw wants to tinky.


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