Episode Six: Segment Two -

The Bantam that came in from the Cold

Pointless Subplots In Six Easy Episodes

Iggy and Glinda strolled casually along a corridor, Katie Ye Olde Tavern Wench and Jessica Fletcher in toe. "And gees I had a lot of Guinness that night!" Iggy concluded. He was greeted with droll expressions from the two women behind and an enthralled, if somewhat deranged smile from Glinda.

"Where is Lesley?" Glinda inquired. "I was just getting to know the girl and then she disappears!"

The others shook their heads. "Yes, a worthy combatant," Jessica Fletcher observed. "But now that she is gone I can steal that brilliant idea of hers that she had for the TV show and give her no credit!" She cackled evilly, attracting the attention of her three companions.

"You disturb me!" Katie Ye Olde Tavern Wench said. "You should be less vindictive and bitchy, and be more like me!" Somewhere far off, the sound of someone laughing hysterically at this suggestion could be heard. "Why is it anyway that you are known by your character’s name and not your actual name?"

"Well, you see, no one knows who the hell Angela Lansbury is, but they all know Jessica Fletcher! Despite my attempts to reaffirm a career outside of my popular character I had little success!"

"Bitch, bitch, bitch," Iggy frowned. He realised then that they had been walking down a very, very, very, very long corridor for no other reason except an adequate lead into the next segment which would take the audience in slowly and then perhaps present them with something horrifying, thrilling, and/or humorous. He looked around. There seemed to be nothing happening. "Oh well," he said to himself.

Then from behind a door that they were presently passing came a terrifyingly, bone-shaking, nerve-twitching scream. Iggy burst through the door, with the help of Glinda turning the doorknob. There was the sight of Lesley, her face bloodied, her arms wrapped around the limp body of a maid in a tight-fitting black costume. There were puncture wounds on the woman’s neck and she stirred slightly as Lesley dropped her. The intruders stared at the scene aghast.

"Yeth?" Lesley inquired.

"Oh nothing," Iggy said casually, "I was just wondering why the hell you are feasting on the blood of that girl, that’s all."

"Oh," Lesley said.

"Well, do you have an answer you f#$king freak?!?" The Irish Iguana screamed, his eyeballs bulging, pointing a small claw at Lesley.

"Yes."

"Well. What is it?"

"Gee gee gee," she said dementedly.

"That isn’t much of a reply," Iggy noted. "In fact I would venture to say that it is a totally unsatisfactory answer. I mean we don’t just go drinking other people’s/Iguana’s blood. It just isn’t the thing! If it was socially acceptable, which it isn’t, then everyone would go about doing it, wouldn’t they? And then we would all be in a load of shit, wouldn’t we?" He raised an eyebrow, well the ridge above his eye, as Iguanas don’t have eyebrows. "Well, wouldn’t you agree?"

"I thuppose." Lesley contemplated the argument of the Iguana for a moment, visibly frothing at the mouth. "I can’t help it, it is who I am now!"

"What, you mean you are a vampire?" Katie Ye Olde Tavern Wench asked.

"Mmmm, ah . . . err . . . Gee geee geeeeeee. Yes." Lesley suddenly raised her arms as if she was about to fly, leapt with added vigour into the air and fell with a violent thud to the floor. With somewhat dented composure she picked herself from the floor and walked out the door, passing the group of onlookers, their mouths agape. She turned a corner and disappeared, her evil cackle echoing to great effect down the hall.

"This is really fucked up!" Iggy professed. "So we have a raving lunatic running around the place claiming that she is a freaking vampire and all the while we are threatened with imminent alien invasion."

"Sounds like a case for Jessica Fletcher," the old sleuth announced.

"Case? What case?" Iggy yelled. "There is no freaking mystery to solve! It is all very simple and plain." Iggy eyed the dead body with suspicion. "Well we have to stop her. But meanwhile, lets have a guinness." They all cheered.

"I’m sorry Woozlewazza," Igor began, "but you have to keep out of the way while we are conducting these business affairs of the state."

"Fine," the drunkard huffed. "I will just go and see my friends shall I?"

"Don’t take it personally, it is just that I have a role as a politician, which I take very seriously." Woozelwazza looked at her with his dull, brown eyes. "Oh, what the hell! NTM I am leaving you guys to deal with this, I’ve got other places to be."

"Bullshit you do! You aren’t going anywhere." The President General frowned at her disapprovingly. "We need you Igor. Your people need you!"

"Damn it, Mirrors, don’t do the ‘Your people need you’ thing, you know how that gets me." NTM smiled to himself. "Sorry Woozlewazza," Igor said. "I will see you later." Woozlewazza sulked his way to the door slowly and disappeared.

"Well," NTM started, "now that we are all here and all sexual partners have left the room . . ." Gamblor quickly ushered a tall blonde woman from under the table and behind the bar. " . . . we can begin." NTM shuffled his papers thoroughly. "Corporal Chicken has been contacted and is on his way. We had a private jet pick him up."

"But all our jets are still here," Igor noted.

"Yes, I didn’t say that it was our private jet! Our pilot has, you see, a certain history with grand theft auto and armed robbery and inappropriate use of defence force vehicles, but he is a very reliable man! And I don’t want anyone to make the mistake of considering him otherwise." The people around the table – Gamblor, Al, Igor and AFOC – puzzled over this for a moment before accepting NTM’s logic. "Of course he is now wanted in Mexico and has a bounty hunter on his trail, but that is not terribly important." He reorganised his papers hurriedly. "Does anyone have anything to say?"

Igor coughed to grab their attention. "I just wanted to know whether Chicken has agreed to help us yet."

"Yes and no."

"What does that mean?"

"Well he agreed to come here, but he thought he was going to be a guest on that new talkshow on yTV, ah what’s it called? Vicki River."

"No," AL said, "that one is on Fascist1. I think it is Ticki Stream."

"I disagree," Gamblor said, "It’s Nicki Fjord."

"Well whatever the hell it is," NTM yelled, "he is coming and we are yet to convince him of helping. But I think that it shouldn’t be hard." NTM took a large photograph from a manila envelope, grinning excessively. "Take a look a this!" he threw it on the table, the others stared at it, gasping with over-the-top surprise. "Yes, that’s right, it’s Chicken’s gandmother, Nanna Chicken. And if he doesn’t help us we will make her go free range!"

"Umh," Al mused. "Perhaps the threat is that we will keep her in this small cage, rather than let her go free."

"That doesn’t make much sense does it?" NTM asked.

"Ah, none at all sir." Al shook his head.

"I am not going to waste my time, hunting vampires!" Katie Ye Olde Tavern Wench cried. "I have my own plan to save the world and I intend to use it."

The pie woman waddled away and Iggy made crude signs at her with his claws and face. "We don’t need the fat cow anyway."

"Hey! I heard that!" Katie Ye Olde Tavern Wench said, turning around briefly.

They continued on without her, making their way up the hall, on the trail of Lesley.

Katie Ye Olde Tavern Wench burst into the kitchen. "You, cook . . ."

"My names-a Fred," Fred said.

"OK Fred, I need your help, together we can save the world!" Katie Ye Olde Tavern wench beckoned to Fred and related her idea.

"What light by yonder window breakth?" Gorf lisped with a skull in one hand and a pound of flesh in the other. "Poor Yorik, I hate the Moor!" Gorf studied the script to Romeo and Juliet, which he had found for a bargain price at a bookshop. There was something odd about it and Gorf failed to place it. The lines seemed to be rather out of place and the story somewhat muddled. Of course if there was anyone who knew how to write a story about a man trying to get his daughter married to a prince who had fallen in love with his father’s enemy’s daughter, and had a fixation of hatred on the black general, who was plotting to kill the emperor of Rome, and was worried about how his father was dividing up his kingdom to escape the influence of the witches, then it was Shakespeare. Gorf decided that he had no right to have anything but the utmost trust in the text.

Suddenly something stirred behind him. "Gee gee gee," someone giggled.

"Argh!" Gorf cried in alarm.

"Thorry my love, it ith I!"

"Lethley?" Gorf looked around in the dim room to find the woman who spoke to him. "Where are you? I will open a curtain, tho I can let thome light . . ."

"No!" Lesley exclaimed. "No light! Not from outthide anyway."

"Why not?"

"Well I have a very delicate complexion and it hath a tendency to blotch when I get too much thun." Gorf turned on a light. "What ith wrong?" Lesley asked as she saw the horrified look on Gorf’s face.

"You are tho pale!"

"I know . . ." Lesley stared at Gorf and laughed nervously, almost questioningly as to whether he would settle for this agreement and no further explanation. "Gee gee gee?"

"Mmm, that voithe, it drithes me wild!" Gorf hummed. He let his concern pass and enjoyed for this moment the company of Lesley.

Ten minutes later Lesley sat up, a forlorn expression spread across her lips. She looked at Gorf, napping quietly beside her. He stirred slightly, murmuring, "You too, Brututh?" Lesley opened her mouth, exposing the razor sharp fangs that had developed over the past day. "No!" she cried, closing her mouth. "I muthn’t!" Gorf stirred again, opened his eyes. Lesley looked from him guiltily.

"What ith wrong?" he asked her gently.

"I mutht go and I mutht never thee you again . . ." she paused, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

"But why?"

"You don’t know who or what I am Gorf! You could never know, I don’t want you to know as it would thertainly frighten you and make you dithguthted with me."

"I could never hath dithgutht for you Lethley," Gorf said supportively.

"You don’t know what you thay." She said simply. " I mutht go now. She dashed to the door with unnatural speed. "Farewell, my Gorf!"

"Lethley, no!" But she had already left. Gorf hung his head and let out a mournful cry, he sobbed violently into his pillow, falling asleep again.

Iggy rounded the corner, paying insane attention to the position of a teak cabinet and the fact that the door opposite it opened inwards rather than outwards, and contemplated the significance that this bore on the hunt for Lesley the Lesbian vampire. He studied the cabinet with fanatical thoroughness and discovered that its drawers were locked. What did it all mean.

"I would agree, Mr Iggy that the furniture in this palace is quite beautiful but I don’t see why we should preoccupy ourselves with this when we have a vampire to hunt!" Jessica gave Iggy the sternest look she could.

"Well it is all quite obvious, you see . . ." A snarl came from inside the room opposite them and the cabinet. "See!"

"That’s purely coincidental . . ." From the room burst two women, in maids costumes, their mouths displaying a feast of blood had just been enjoyed. They grinned at the three in front of them and began a taunting and frightening approach.

Glinda stepped forward. She seemed at once determined to do something. She held her mouth open, as if to speak. "My name is Glinda and I live in a bubble." With this she stepped back satisfied.

Iggy, with amazing power, karate chopped at a leg of the cabinet and removed it, leaping onto the nearest woman and stabbing violently at the woman’s chest, pushing it finally through her heart. She fell, very much dead, or at least he hoped so. The other woman had already leapt upon Jessica and was overpowering her easily. "Stop that!" Glinda said with amazing force in her voice.

Suddenly at the corner a figure could be seen, with the way the light hit it, it appeared quite impressive. When the person stepped into the light he seemed less so.

"I am Gorf, Thuperhero Exthaordinaire! Get back you curthed Harpy of the devil!"

He attempted to pull the woman away from Jessica valiantly but with little success. The woman back-handed Gorf and he flew, with the impressive sound of shattering glass, through the window and plummeted three stories down. "No!!!!!!!" he screamed.

Iggy confronted the woman as she went again to assault Jessica, he thrust a piece of shattered glass into her heart, suffering minor cuts to his little claws.

The woman collapsed and remained still. "Thankyou Iggy!" Jessica Fletcher praised the lizard.

"Ah, it was nothing. But you know what this means?"

"Yes, there are more of them."

"Yes, but as long as there is an iguana, no vampire shall survive."

"Iguanas often slay vampires?"

"It’s a common hobby among my species. But now we must tell the others."

"Hi, what’s happening?" It was Woozlewazza, he had just walked around the corner. "Shit, what have you been doing? You made a mess. Look at all the splinters on the floor and that cabinet is ruined." Iggy pointed to the floor, indicating the two bodies. "F#$k! I didn’t notice that before!"

Iggy, Glinda, Woozlewazza and Jessica Fletcher ran into the room. NTM, Guru Al, Gamblor, Igor and AFOC sat around the table. "Your deal, Gamblor," Al said. "Look, there is Glinda, Gamblor."

"Hey!" NTM shouted, "what’s going on here!?! What are you guys doing? We do have an important meeting you know?" NTM looked back at the table. "Two please," he said to Gamblor.

"You have time for cards later!" Woozlewazza screamed. "There are vampires taking over the palace, and not to mention the problem with the freaking aliens!"

"Vampires?" NTM inquired. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Nos Feratu, the Living Dead . . ."

"Yes . . ."

"Lesley has turned into a vampire! And she is making the maids into vampires!"

"What?" Gamblor choked. "I can’t believe that. And she was my second choice, after Glinda!" He realised that he had said this too loud. "What?!? Stop looking at me."

Everyone turned there eyes away from him unwillingly and looked to Woozlewazza, except for Woozlewazza who looked at Igor. "Yeah and . . . she is making . . . ah god you’re good looking . . . and I . . . may Igor and I be excused?"

"This is just too much," NTM sighed. "How could this all be happening now? Why have I been cursed like this?" He fell onto his knees and lifted his head up. "Oh Lord, why have you forsaken me?!!!???!?"

"That’s not the Lord, NTM," Igor giggled with a touch of irritation. "That’s the smoke alarm."

"You mean its beeping isn’t morse code?"

"No and when it goes off it means that there is a fire somewhere in the palace. You know we have had six fires this week already."

NTM smiled sheepishly. "Well, as soon as Corporal Chicken gets here we can get rid of these stupid aliens. I hope they continue to wait because time is what we need."

Inside the spaceship . . .

"Just how much like do we have to wait, Porcelain Dashboard Generic Plastic Mortar Tissue ?" Simian Ion Combustion Nasal Junction Bond asked the younger officer at the ship’s main computer.

"Another few hours, the weapons have not fully charged."

"Damn," Simian cursed. "I knew we shouldn’t have upgraded." She paced anxiously. "Continue corporal."

Back in the Palace . . .

"Do we have to wear these?" Al inquired. "They smell funny."

"Yes!" Iggy exclaimed. "They will protect you from the vampires. Otherwise you will be taken by them and you will become a foul, soulless demon. And you don’t want that do you?"

"I wish I was a vampire," Al muttered. "Wouldn’t have to wear any stupid garlic around my neck." He examined the crucifixes that Iggy made them wear as well. "Hey, Lizard! These crosses are clashing with my attire. I can’t wear two different shades of brown!"

Iggy gave him a sufficient round of ‘tsk’s and ignored his complaints.

The door swung open slightly, and the politicians in the room drew their weapons, that they had concealed under their jackets. As Glinda dived out of the way they fired at the 0door, emptying their revolvers. There was a soft groan and a thud as someone fell to the floor.

Igor jumped onto the table and flipped off it ala Buffy the Vampire Slayer. She opened the door. "Well, lucky he is immortal ‘cos we just killed him again." Everyone craned their necks to see Gorf’s body.

"Would you get that off my floor!" NTM screamed, hurling a cup of coffee at Igor, narrowly missing. Instead the beverage hit the wall, on the other side of the hall and to add extra insult, rebounded and hit the still body of Gorf.

"Settle down," Al recommended, "Let’s just keep our minds on the issue at hand." His face froze in concentration as he tried to remember what the issue was. "It’s a giant lizard attacking the city isn’t it? That is the issue right?"

"Alien Invasion," Gamblor prompted him.

"Ah yes, well then we should, I think, try to get in contact with the aliens, if only to stall them until the chicken gets here."

"Good plan," Igor said, genuinely impressed. "We should organise that immediately."

On the roof of the Presidential Palace . . .

The helicopter approached the giant ship on the horizon, there was at this stage, no response from the huge vehicle. It remained still and lifeless, an unlikely floating object in the darkening sky: it was almost sunset and the sky was a deep purple, crimson at the horizon.

"It’s approaching the spaceship," NTM informed them.

"Thanks, we can see," Igor reminded him.

The helicopter flew smoothly to the centre of the ship and stopped underneath it. On top of it was a flashing sign with the words "We welcome you and offer you tea and cookies" scrolling rapidly across its surface.

For a few minutes the people watched with unbearable expectation, the ship making no movement, its unearthly controllers not responding. The helicopter continued to hover beneath the ship, NTM took out his phone and dialled the flying vehicle. The Pilot picked up immediately. "Ok, you can come back, it seems that they aren’t going to do anything."

The helicopter’s altitude dropped steadily, and it began to turn around. Suddenly at the centre of the ship there could be seen a bright blue/green light piercing the space between to sliding panels that had just parted.

"Look!" Igor cried, "it’s doing something!"

The panels continued to separate until the light became so bright that the pilots of the helicopter had to shield their eyes. In a brilliant flash the scream of the helicopter’s pilots could be heard through the phone which NTM still held.

To the amazement of the spectators the ship had been violently struck by . . . a constant and terrifyingly brutal stream of Chokoes! "Oh my God!" the pilot could be heard saying.

"It’s so terrible!" Gamblor Silk screamed.

"Oh the Humanity!" Guru Al called with extreme anxiety.

The helicopter began its speedy retreat, NTM furiously cursing the alien ship. "You f#$king stupid piece of white alien trash!"

The crowd on the roof sighed deeply. It was thoroughly disappointing, and they would have to hope that such a horrible attack would not occur until Corporal Chicken arrived.

Woozlewazza had decided that there was only one thing for it. Igor and him set up a few tables and chairs and encouraged everyone to get jolly well pissed.

The eyes of the people had stopped watering from the garlic necklaces which they wore, finally becoming accustomed to the smell. Iggy decided that, after a few Guinnesses, he should return to his vampire hunting, and was joined by the equally determined Jessica Fletcher and the somewhat confused Glinda.

They slipped away from the crowd and made their way through the halls of the palace, trying as best they could to mark the trail of the vampires.

Back on the roof, the people took only an hour to drink themselves into a drunken stupor. This was followed with rather passionate singing on the part of Woozlewazza, which was picked up by his companions. "All we are saying is give tiny cocktail umbrellas a chance, all we are saying is give tiny cocktail umbrellas a chance . . ."

In an appropriately dark hallway . . .

Iggy stepped carefully down the hallway, on the third floor. With the help of the two women they had placed garlic at strategic positions with crucifixes. The hope was that it would drive all the vampires on this floor to this point.

"I just hope that none of those creatures have made it outside," Jessica Fletcher mused. "The garlic at the door should have been enough to deter them, and the rows of crosses around the palace should prevent them from getting far."

"Yes, lucky that the palace is surrounded by a cemetery . . ." Iggy said. "Well the site of the massacre of thousands of innocent people anyway."

Glinda halted her stepping, turned around at the sound of footsteps behind her. "Hello," she began, "my name is Glinda and . . ."

"Who are you talking . . ." Iggy froze. Two women stood there with obscenely wretched smiles on their faces. "Curse you devil’s whores!" Iggy screamed as Jessica Fletcher took three stakes from a sack that she held. She quickly tossed one to Iggy and then Glinda and wielded one herself with true malice.

The women seemed somewhat unsure of themselves and not at all confident like the two they had encountered earlier, however they did possess a great amount of power as Iggy discovered as he struggled with one, attempting to thrust the stake into her heart. Glinda and Jessica both went for the other woman and managed to their delighted bewilderment to throw her to the ground and stab a stake into her heart.

Iggy wrestled with the remaining vampire and found that he could not overpower her despite all his best attempts. Jessica Fletcher quickly came to his aid and bit the arm of the woman, which she had tightened around Iggy’s neck. The little lizard squealed as the vampire let go of him and sprung up to attack Jessica, before the stake was driven into her heart. "Take that you bitch!" Jessica screamed with the joy of power.

"You go, girlfriend!" Glinda said, suddenly becoming animated. "I feel so exhilirated. Like there is something amazing happening to my mind. I have never felt like this before."

"It is the thrill of the first kill," Iggy said, a degree of intentional wisdom in his voice. "I know how it felt for me."

"Well," Glinda breathed, "I want more!"

The party on the roof was suddenly interrupted by the arrival of a young man, also adorned in garlic and crucifixes, breathing heavily. He ran to Nine Turning Mirrors and held a piece of paper out to him hurriedly, who sat amongst a large crowd on beach chairs.

"What! What do you want?!?" NTM squealed. "Damn it! I don’t sign autographs anymore! Go away and tell all your other little friends that I don’t sign unless I am paid."

"No sir," the young man said breathlessly. "It is a message from the plane . . . Corporal . . . Corporal Chicken is about to arrive!"

"Oh . . . my God!" NTM said, falling from his beach chair.

"There it is!" Igor screamed. "There’s the plane!" She pointed out to the east, to the left of the threateningly large spaceship.

Slowly the people in the crowd could identify the small shape in the sky that was slowly becoming larger as it approached the palace. "What is he doing?" Al inquired. "He can’t land there! Not on the Golf Course!" Al danced around frantically. "Stay off the Green!" He yelled. "Stay off the green!!!"

There was nothing for it, the plane continued its course and was not to be stopped, landing shortly on the golfcourse.

"Welcome Corporal Chicken," Nine Turning Mirrors said, extending his hand, and bending down to account for the chicken’s short stature. This rather less than immediately seemed inappropriate and NTM withdrew his hand, realising that the chicken had nothing, with which to shake it with.

"Ah, thankyou . . ." Corporal Chicken responded, surveying the scene with growing curiosity.

For a moment he stared into the crowd not recognising the people whose faces stared back at his with equal interest. There was a very unsettling quietness for a minute until Chicken coughed and looked to NTM. "So ah . . . sorry, but who are you?"

"Oh, I am Nine Turning Mirrors, the President General of the yFalminican Republic!" NTM said proudly, swishing the clear liquid around in his glass.

"President General! What an honour! I thought that I would just get to meet the host and get a studio tour . . ."

NTM winced and wondered how he should put it lightly. He looked at the people in front of him and decided that surely one of them could word it much better than him. He looked from face to face and after considering that Igor and Al would be too blunt, he chose Gamblor – a decision that was attributed most to the fact that he had consumed in the past hour a hefty quantity of alcohol.

NTM beckoned Gamblor to approach, he did so and NTM simply said "Tell him why . . . hic . . . he is here."

"Well, you see Chicken . . . It is like this. You are here under false pretences. You won’t be appearing on that dreary talk show and the only reason you are here is to use you to save our arses, and I suppose the rest of the world’s . . ."

"What!?!?" Corporal Chicken looked to the people and his glance fell on the faces of Guru Al and then that of Igor and then Anvil Falls on Coyote. "You!" he screamed with shock. He further noticed the presence of Woozlewazza and suddenly Woozlewazza noticed his presence and both called out in alarm. "You!" Corporal Chicken repeated.

"Oh my God! It’s a chicken!" Woozlewazza shrieked.

"Calm down everyone!" Gamblor said.

"That guy killed me!" Chicken said, raising a foot to point at Al.

"Well you are here now, aren’t you? So why are you whinging? Anyway there is a greater force at work here than Al’s incompetence and laziness, which leads to the death of Chickens. And the force is that!" Gamblor pointed dramatically at the ship in the sky.

Corporal Chicken faced the direction he was indicating. "Oh, f#$k!"

"Well I don’t see how I can help you," Corporal Chicken screamed with deep emotion. "Look at it! It’s just about the biggest f#$king thing that I have ever seen floating in the sky!"

"But, can’t you get your friends to help?" NTM asked, trying as much as possible to not take on a tone that would declare, ‘This is the fucking obvious’.

"Friends? Who, Joe and Phillis?"

"Well, I don’t know their names, but . . ."

"Well if you don’t know their names then I don’t see how I am meant to know which of my friends you are talking about."

"Your friends, the chickens," Al yelled. "The f#$king alien chickens that you were with. I know you remember! You remembered that I killed you!"

"Oh, those friends! Now I know what you are going on about." He paused, attempting to appear as nonchalant as was possible. "So you want me to contact my alien friends so that they can get rid of these aliens before they destroy the earth?"

"Exactly!" Nine Turning Mirrors squealed. He turned to Guru Al briefly. "Should we tell him that it is only the human race under threat and not the world?"

Al whispered in his ear, "Ah, I think that we should leave that part out. You know because of all the times that I managed to kill him and the fact that we ate him while in Ga. He might want to get rid of the human race himself."

"Good advice, Vice President General Guru Al!" NTM said aloud. "OK Chicken, how long will it take you?"

"Umh," Chicken said "Well, shouldn’t be too long, just perhaps another, ah . . . maybe sixty six years."

NTM collapsed suddenly. Several people ran to assist him in standing up again. Al stood puzzled. "So does this mean that we are screwed?"

"Judaism," Anvil-Falls-On-Coyote noted.

"Someone up there really wants to screw me over!" NTM muttered, struggling into his chair and accepting the offer of another drink from Igor. He sipped on the fruity concoction, playing with the small cocktail umbrella. "What the hell are we to do now?" He downed the drink and proceeded to chew on the umbrella, pouting quite deliberately, seeking the attention of anyone who seemed to care. "Damn it! Why is that boy in the loincloth staring at me?"

"What the hell?" Igor asked.

"Look that boy there!"

They all turned around and noticed the rather docile form of a dark-skinned boy, wearing a loincloth made of animal skin. His eyes were very dull, conveying little emotion and allowing a very limited insight into what was going on in his mind. His expression was like that of a cow.

"Jimmy?" Woozlewazza asked.

"Who the hell is Jimmy?" Igor asked, perplexed.

"He is a pan dimensional Bolivian Boy. He can teleport himself from one place to another," Woozlewazza explained.

"As you do . . ." NTM responded, rather flummoxed. "What the hell is he doing here then?"

"I don’t know . . ." Woozlewazza approached Jimmy. "Last time I saw him we were approximately thirteen million, nine hundred and ninety eight thousand, four hundred and four years in the future." He stood in front of Jimmy, waving his hand in front of the docile boy’s eyes. There was no response. "What are you doing here Jimmy?" The boy said nothing.

"Great, what use is a mute Bolivian to us?" Guru Al inquired.

"He can talk, but he usually doesn’t. Where is that Katie Ye Olde Tavern Wench? She knows him." No one was sure where the pie woman was.

"I don’t know," Igor said, thinking of how Katie seemed to have affections for Woozlewazza. "She doesn’t think I noticed, but oh, how I noticed!"

"What?" everyone asked.

"Doesn’t matter . . ." Igor shrunk away from the view of the crowd.

"Jimmy!" Woozlewazza squealed with sudden glee. "You can help us can’t you?"

"Pleh?" Jimmy inquired dully.

"You can take us back in time so that we can ask the alien chickens to be here in sixty six years!"

"Pleh," Jimmy repeated.

Suddenly a man with an evil grin stepped from the shadows. "Hello Woozlewazza!" he spat. He had short black hair and a noticeably large scar on the side of his face, as he approached the people, it was obvious he had a rather attractive limp.

"Argh! It’s Pangiotis!"

"Have that man killed, Guru," NTM commanded.

Al stood, took a pistol from his jacket, aimed at Pangiotis’ head and fired. The man fell. Thus the plans of revenge of Panagiotis came to a sudden and anticlimactic end!

"Phew!" Woozlewazza sighed.

"Good work Guru!"

"Thankyou Mr. President General!"

"Yeth!" Gorf screamed, suddenly appearing at the front of the crowd, seemingly unaware of the violence just committed. "Well done Woothlewatha!" he said with the utmost sincerity. "A very good plan!"

Everyone hummed with excitement. "Yes! Once again I have worked out all of our problems and saved the world!" NTM professed.

"You?" Gamblor spat questioningly. "What the hell did you have to do with it?"

"Well, I was part of the planning stage!"

"You had nothing to do with it!" Gamblor Silk exploded.

"Hey! Just remember who can have who executed and who holds the power to have your brain implanted into a seal! It has been done before!" NTM threatened.

"I’ll be good!" Gamblor screamed.

"You know," Igor said, coughing violently when she realised that she had not got the attention of the crowd. "Kerakggh, kerakggh," she coughed. "You know, you won’t even have to go back in time!"

"What do you mean?" NTM asked. "Of course we will, how else are we going to have to get them to be here now, when we need them?"

"No she ith right!" Gorf spluttered. "If we thend them a methage now, all we have to do ith tell them to come back in time to thith date to thave uth!"

"Ahuh," NTM considered, recklessly throwing his empty glass over his shoulder, which in turn hit Gorf in the face and he backed up rapidly in shock , plummeted from the roof to the ground, screaming as he fell. "Did anyone hear anything?" NTM asked, however no one responded. "Anyway could someone without a lisp run that by me again?"

"Listen dickhead!" Igor screamed at the President General. "When they get our message, which we will send now, they will come back in time to this point and save us! Understand?"

"Umh . . . well . . ."

The plan was explained to NTM further, while Igor prepared a message and Corporal Chicken set up the means of communication. They had returned to the interiors of the palace, once again abandoning the roof. First Guru Al drew a simple stick figure diagram, which summarised the plot of "Laurence of Arabia", but this for obvious reasons didn’t help with the task at hand. Next, Al demonstrated the characteristics of time using two lumps of plasticine and a piece of paper. When this seemed to fail in allowing Nine Turning Mirrors the least bit of comprehension of what they were attempting to do, Guru Al violently hurled a copy of Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time at NTM. He read the blurb and finally everything seemed clear.

"‘Alien invasion, they want to kill us, you come now, help, sincerely yFalmican government defense minister - Igor, yFalminica, Earth. April 9, 1999, 6:24pm’. How does that sound?" Igor asked, after reading out the intended message.

"Not too shabby," Guru Al admitted. "I think it needs a bit more . . . ah . . . oomph though. Umh, like a gratuitous sex scene."

"It isn’t a damn porn flick we are writing!"

"It isn’t?" Gamblor and Al said simultaneously.

Corporal Chicken stood proudly in front of a very odd, yet surprisingly small contraption. It had been constructed out of scrap materials, which he had scrounged from around the palace. It consisted of a ringpull from an aluminium can, a paddlepop stick broken in half, two 10 Bogii coins (the currency of yFalminica), a matchstick, a ball of gum and a green, edible condom. It was held together by several wires and components of a dissembled watch and powered by a tiny battery, from the watch.

Corporal Chicken stood atop the table, which the device rested on, and spoke into the device, as if into a microphone. No one could identify which part of the machine served this purpose. "Corporal Chicken here, Lapokapish Allegiance member number 98965845359423643238765864213736667322164325474875633125472845315

4763316598474254973576332732448791202126562548442547312548539 . . ." Everyone applauded when he had completed quoting this number. " . . . Here with representative of earth country, conveying message of absolute urgency." He indicated that Igor should read out her message. She did so and then Chicken pressed the matchstick so that it connected two wires and crackling could be heard. He turned to the others and announced with satisfaction, "That oughta do it . . ." Everyone cheered and ran back onto the roof.

"I can smell the foul stench of the devil!" Iggy hissed with deliberate emphasis on all the consonants in the sentence.

"Yes, they are near," Jessica Fletcher concurred.

"My name is Glinda and . . ."

"Shh!" Iggy spat. Glinda pouted and remained silent. The three were walking tentatively down a hall (how unlikely, compared with what they had been doing all day!), many of the lights smashed, some of them flickering wildly. "Gees, it looks as if someone has been on a wild rampage," Iggy whispered.

Presently, they came to a door, which appeared to have had blood smeared on it by someone using their hands. Deep scratches could also be observed, surely a wild animal had made them.

With this thought in mind, the group heard a howl from within the room, a smashing of something glass and a terrifyingly wolf-like growl.

An air of expectancy choked the party waiting on the roof. There was still just one damn spaceship in the sky and seemingly no other in sight. "Damn, the message mustn’t have got through!" Igor screamed.

"Maybe they are just running late . . " NTM suggested. Groans came from the mouths of all present, as they realised that NTM still hadn’t quite grasped the whole time travel thing.

They continued to face the east, frowning at the spaceship, which sat so smugly in the sky. Suddenly the light drained from the roof of the palace and the people noticed a sudden coldness. A shadow crept over them and blocked out the remaining light from the setting sun.

"What the . . .?" Gamblor asked, promptly turning around. "Oh . . ." The remainder of the group turned and spied the rather obvious presence of a large spaceship overhead. "Is that your friends, Chicken?" Gamblor inquired

"Umh, it seems to be . . ." the corporal responded.

The movement of the ship had not slowed and its advanced continued towards the other vehicle, its size becoming even more apparent. It was, to put it mildly, f#$king huge. Yes, even bigger than a 747, quite much larger, in fact, than a bus.

Its form took on hostile qualities as it approached the opposing ship, the lights on its underside buzzing wildy, a mad crackling being omitted.

"Ha!" Katie Ye Olde Tavern Wench yelled from behind. "That will never work! We should try to encourage them to be nice and allow them to attempt some sort of penance for their hostility. Violence is never the way. Show them Fred!" Fred the cook, whined softly. Why was it always him who ended up involved in crazy plans?

He stood at a winch, and began to wind it around quickly. It was attached to a few ropes which hung out over the edge of the building to the ground, attached to a large canvas. As he wound the winch, it lifted the canvas and revealed a rather impressive and impossible large . . .

"Appendix?" AFOC asked in puzzlement.

"No," Al responded. "A pie."

"Yes," Katie chuckled, as everyone looked over the edge of the building to see the marvellous pastry dish. "Blueberry pie! Who can resist? The aliens will want to be our friends now that we have pie for them. Ha ha ha," she cackled jovially.

"What are you f#$king mad?" Igor cried. She saw the sign which rested on top of the lavish desert: ‘Have some Pie!’ "You think this is going to work?"

"Well yes!" Katie’s face took a turn. Her eyes narrowed. "You know, I haven’t known you for long, Igor, but I have decided that I don’t like you. You are a bad person."

"Me? You are a vindictive bitch. You are just jeallous because Woozlewazza is mine!"

"That is a lie! I don’t care about him!"

"Bullshit! I know you do!"

"That is it, you are going down!"

Katie Ye Olde Tavern Wench charged towards Igor, a sight that struck the defence minister with an unrelenting fear. The image of such a woman, of such generous proportions, was quite bewildering. Igor jumped from Katie’s path and the pie woman could not halt her approach, having built up such a momentum. She charged though the crowd, scattering the screaming people.

"What ith going on?" Gorf asked, climbing over the side. Katie hurled into him unwittingly and he fell from the roof once again.

Katie turned and started back for Igor, this time with a lesser speed, as to be able to control her movement. Igor faced the woman, and gave her an aching kick in the head. Katie screamed with the impact, but recovered honourably and punched Igor in the face. The two then proceeded to roll on the ground, pulling hair and scratching each other. This would have been adequate entertainment had the action behind not begun.

A group of seventeen small spaceships emerged from the bottom of the chicken craft and sped off to attack to alien invaders. In response fifteen small ships of roughly equal size came from the chicken ship and combat sparked, each side matching the other’s firing. The game of cat and mouse continued, catching the attention of all present except for Katie and Igor, who were still clutching at each other’s throats.

Meanwhile . . .

"Back wicked bitch!" Glinda shrieked at an approaching vampire. She caught the stake, which Jessica threw to her, and slammed it into the evil woman’s chest. She fell promptly.

Iggy drove back two women and flipped around wildly, jumping on to the back of one, leaning over her shoulder and stabbing her in the chest. The other he stabbed from behind, driving the stake through her back, and out through her chest.

Jessica was confronted by three, and killed two at once, one stake in each hand, and then the third.

They stood outside the bloody, scratched door, their entrance briefly hindered by six vampiresses, who had just appeared from around the corner.

"It seems to me that they were coming here," Iggy said. "Perhaps they are in here . . ."

"Perhaps she is in there," Jessica Fletcher.

"Only one way to bubble . . . I mean find out," Glinda suggested, gesturing to the door.

Jessica kicked it open, immediately falling to the floor, clutching her hip. "Ah . . . I think it is broken . . ." She winced in pain.

There was no time to help her, a woman arose from the shadows, her face concealed in the darkness. "Get them, girlth," the woman lisped.

Five vampires emerged from the darkness. Glinda shrieked, and ran, dragging with her the crippled Jessica Fletcher.

"Oh, that’s just great," the Irish Iguana sneered. "Any other surprises?"

The first two women were killed rather easily, basically they just ran into the stakes, Iggy held up. The next one grappled with him, and they rolled on the floor for a good five minutes, the others just watching. Finally he plunged the stake into her heart and pushed her off. He lay panting on the other side of the hall now, and saw the other two women snarling at him.

To his relief he now spied a glass case on the wall opposite, possessing many fine examples of old weaponry. The women dived for him, but the lizard leapt from the way and smashed the case open with the end of a stake and pulled from it a large, sharp knife. He spun around and was just quick enough to slice off the head of the approaching woman, her fangs bared. With this, he charged at the remaining minion, slashing at her throat and then removing her head as she lay, clutching her neck on the floor.

He then turned to Lesley. She stood still, silent. "Now it is just you and me!"

"Yeth," she replied. She stood waiting for him to approach, he quickly complied and jumped at her throat, wielding the knife with extreme expertise. She kocked the weapon from his hand and threw him to the floor. Iggy ran for her again, but she somehow dashed to the other side of the room in just a second. She laughed madly at the lizard’s attempts. "Gee gee gee!"

She was just too powerful! Iggy leapt for the knife and balked going left, but instead ran right, where Lesley dashed. He ran into her and slashed at her chest, the blood seeped out quickly.

She screamed and threw him aside, lurching for the door. Iggy was in hot pursuit and grabbed a stake from the sack and deftly jumped onto her back. Lesley threw him over her shoulders so that he thudded on the floor in front of her. She snarled menacingly at him and he quickly threw the stake at her chest with surprising power, it penetrated her heart and she collapsed.

After much fitting and a rather dramatic death, Iggy stood watching Lesley for a few minutes, until satisfied. He then calmly walked away.

The Chicken forces were winning quite spectacularly, their fighter ships having destroyed all but two of those of the aliens, only three of their having been lost. The battle continued to rage. "Go, Chickens!" The people sang out.

The large ship then began a personal attack on its opposition, firing rapidly, causing great damage. The part that seemed to be the ships weapons, had already been greatly destroyed. Immediately it began a slow retreat, a humming could be heard in the distance.

"They are running!" Nine Turning Mirrors yelped. He rested his drink on the table, which was bumped by the duelling Igor and Katie, as they rolled around on the floor, viciously grappling with each other.

Woozlewazza watched on with awe. This was all for him . . . Or so it seemed. He was rather confused. He stood alongside Jimmy who had, for the past hour or so, remained relatively quiet. "What do you make of it, Jimmy?" He was greeted with a deathly dull expression and zero comprehension from the boy. "Yeah, I though as much . . ."

"Die Bitch!" Igor yelled.

"No you die undesirable, or unpleasant woman!" She just couldn’t bring herself to say the word.

They were now leaning over the side of the roof, the short, metre tall railing the only thing in the way of them falling to their deaths. Igor held to Katie’s throat with one hand and powerfully punched her in the face with the other. "Yeah, Igor!" Woozlewazza said supportively. Igor then hit the woman again and Katie, attempting to stand, placed her whole weight on the railing. As she did so, she saw a man come through the door onto the roof. He wore corduroy, and lots of if. "My Pants!" Katie screamed, remembering why she had come here in the first place and wishing she had never developed a crush on Woozlewazza. But all too late as she toppled over, making a rather powerful splat as she fell into the blueberry pie.

"Who was that?" Captain Homes de Pants asked.

No one answered.

"So what’s going on then?" Homes asked.

"What the hell are you doing here, Homes?" Igor asked, shocked. "Last time we saw you, you were running off into the forest with Cleo’s head!"

"Fuck off de Pants," Al yelled viciously.

"Ha ha ha," Pants replied, "You’re funny." He received several menacing glares and retreated back through the door, leaving everyone to briefly puzzle over his unexpected return.

There was no more movement in the pie, and Igor smiled, and returned to the party.

"Yeah!" They all cheered at the sight before them, sculling beer and shot various substances.

The two ships sped off into the sky, the chickens in pursuit of the alien invaders. They disappeared from view quickly.

"Damn it!!! Evacuate!!!" Simian Ion Combustion Nasal Junction Bond screamed. She dived into an escape pod and was ejected from the already burning spacecraft. Panic reigned, numerous people escaping, before the entire ship was blown to smithereens.

Gorf observed the mess in the hallway with disgust. "Tthk tthk tthk," he lisped quietly to himself. He saw many bodies on the floor, Iggy must have been at work.

He walked past them all carefully and past the last, which lay facedown. It seemed to stir, to Gorf’s horror. He found a stake lying near by and held it ready.

The body turned over and Gorf’s heart melted. "Lethley! Not you too! I knew there were vampires but I . . ."

"Yeth, Gorf," she spoke huskily. "I am a vampire."

Gorf knelt beside her and supported her weakly. "I am dying Gorf."

"No! Don’t thay that!"

"It ith true!"

He knew it was but did not want to admit this to her or himself.

"You are a very thpecial perthon Gorf! Remember that." Lesley closed her eyes and lay still.

"No!" Gorf howled. He ran around the corner, laying her head down gently first, and called out for help. "Thomeone get a doctor. We have a vampire down!" There was no one around, so he returned. Where Lesley had lay there was nothing, just a puddle of blood. Gorf surveyed the scene puzzled.

"I have just heard from my friends," Corporal Chicken announced. "They have destroyed the enemy ship!"

"Woohoo!" Woozlewazza screamed drunkenly.

A massive party ensued. The perverse joy of getting pissed was thoroughly explored, defying the laws which Simian Ion Combustion Nasal Junction Bond and her people had tried to enforce upon the universe.

"I told you I would save the world!" NTM slurred, wearing nothing but a golden tiara.

"You didn’t save the world," Guru Al retorted. "I did!"

They all cheered and indulged themselves further.

"Woozlewazza, I am so glad that you are here again!" Igor said contentedly, laying in his arms, sipping a concoction that Gamblor had just thrown together.

"Yes, so am I, but this is just a bit hectic for me, I think I need a break, to get away somewhere . . ."

" . . . and I want you to come with me!" Woozlewazza sat up, looked around. "God damn it Jimmy!!! You did it again!" He could not identify where he was, but looking up at the building in front of him, he saw a sign, which read "Party Shack".

"Mmm," Woozlewazza thought.

"Damn it! Where did he go?" Igor shrieked.

"Oh, Jimmy must have done that," Iggy advised. "That’s how we got here in the first place."

"Well, Jimmy . . ." Igor looked around. Jimmy was nowhere to be seen. "Curse you Bolivian!!!"

The party continued however and once again, to encourage them to keep alive the link of drunkenness that holds the universe together, King Louis 14^th dropped in. Despite being disappointed at the absence of Woozlewazza and Lesley, he managed to have a good time, drinking far too much, with Guru Al, NTM and Gamblor chanting "Chug, chug, chug!" to him, in encouragement.

And so the Six Degrees of Inebriation continued to hold the universe and all creation together, despite the threat that the aliens had posed.

"Quiet on the set!" The director yelled. "And roll!"

Jessica Fletcher (now going by her real name of Angela Lansbury) stood at the counter of the shop.

"May I help you?" she asked the man who approached the counter.

"Yes, can I have three blueberry pies the man said," frowning slightly.

"Yes you may . . ." She wrapped up three pies. "That will be four dollars fifty, thankyou . . . ah, is something the matter?"

The man nodded curtly. "You see, my wife has disappeared."

"I see," Angela said knowingly . . .

The show went on to become a huge success and brought Angela new found fame in many countries around the world, such as Slovenia, Guatemala and Turkmenistan. Lesley’s idea had been brilliantly successful! Angela cackled wildly at the thought.

And it may be of interest to you that Glinda tracked down the company that was responsible for taking away her bubble, and once she had it back in her possession, her and Iggy returned to Ireland.

"I guess everything is back to normal then," Nine Turning Mirrors remarked.

"Looks that way . . ." Igor pouted.

"Cheer up Igor, he’ll will be back soon I am sure of it!" Al encouraged her.

They were all lounging on the roof, in the midday sun of the next day. Gamblor was eyeing an attractive woman who served him a cocktail frankfurt on a toothpick. "I tell you, she was coming on to me!" Gamblor had said to Al.

"All she did was ask you whether you wanted sauce on your sausage, Silk!"

Anvil-Falls-On-Coyote sat up suddenly. Something had just occurred to him. There had not been an anvil falling on his head for a long time. Just to prove this wrong, a shiny metal anvil struck him violently and he collapsed.

"Ooh, that’s gotta hurt!" NTM said.

Then from the door burst a figure in a cleaner’s uniform. "Ha ha ha ha!" He screamed. "I will . . . eh . . .kill you all!"

"Who the hell is that?" NTM asked.

"That’s the Janitor, I think," Al answered. "David Scalp."

"Oh, have him shot will you?" NTM replied.

"OK," Al shrugged.

David Scalp took out some strange explosive device, and was about to press a button until Guru AL, stood, took out a small pistol, aimed it at his head and fired. David Scalp went down like a Katie Ye Olde Tavern Wench, falling from a four storey building.

"Good work, Guru!"

"Thankyou, President General!" Al responded.

"Yes . . . Everything is back to normal."

And so they lived drunkenly ever after . . . until . . .

Panagiotis

Woozlewazza

Fiona (aka Simian Ion Combustion Nasal Junction Bond)

Iggy

Lesley

Man with green hair, Salamander sitting on shoulder

Igor

Louis 14^th

Katie Ye Olde Tavern Wench

Bitch Blain, Ye Olde Grouchy Librarian

Jessica Fletcher

Host

Maurice the Masseuse

Waiter

Captain Homes de Pants

Jimmy

Vampire Women

Doug

Glinda

Short man who Simian Ion Combustion Nasal Junction Bond yells at

Younger officer in spaceship

Porcelain Dashboard Generic Plastic Mortar Tissue

Followed by the reappearance of the famous characters:

Guru Al

Nine Turning Mirrors

Gamblor Silk

Anvil-Falls-On-Coyote

Gorf

Corporal Chicken

Fred, the Cook

And in his debut and very short performance, David Scalp

Return of the Stick

Out soon

Go back to index

Last updated: 31/05/99