The scene: Doktor Zymm’s car, where Future Moose is driving Zymm back to the DFO clubhouse from Wally’s World of Waffles. Man in Plaid #2’s head is riding on the dash.

Future Moose: That was great! I can’t believe Wally’s still has the 36-inch waffle.

Doktor Zymm: I can’t believe you ate two.

Future Moose: I was hungry. I hadn’t eaten since Thanksgiving.

Doktor Zymm: Vell, I am just happy zat ze operation vas a zuccess.

Man in Plaid #2’s Head: You did fine work, Doktor Zymm. I am happy to have been able to contribute one of my batteries.

Doktor Zymm: You know, now zat you two share ze batteries, you are kind of…

Future Moose: Don’t say it, Zymm…

Man in Plaid #2’s Head: Battery Buddies!

Future Moose (sighing): Really? Can that never leave this car? And by the way, Zymm, why did you let Balls take my car to… Hey, where did he go, anyway?

Doktor Zymm: Ach! Vell, he und a few of ze others took it to Mexico to look for…

Future Moose: Wait, Mexico?!!

Future Moose and Man in Plaid #2’s shoot each other a worried glance.

Future Moose: What year is it again?

Man in Plaid #2’s Head: It is 2017…

Doktor Zymm: Ja, Mexico. Vat is ze matter mit you two?

Future Moose (interrupting): Nothing! Not a thing!

Future Moose hits the brakes hard and swings the car in a 180. Man in Plaid #2’s head rolls off the dashboard and into Zymm’s lap. Cars blare their horns and squeal to a stop, tires smoking, as he accelerates across the meridian and roars into the southbound exit. It’s pretty cool. Kind of like something you’d do in Grand Theft Auto V online, except there’s no level 300 character there to ruin the moment by blowing you up with a missile from his helicopter.

Doktor Zymm (holding onto Man in Plaid #2’s head): Moose! Vat is going on here?

Future Moose (trying to act innocent): Wrong? Why, nothing…I just thought some sun might be nice! You know…beat the winter blahs with a trip to…

Man in Plaid #2’s Head: Mexico?

Future Moose (zipping past traffic): Hey, great idea!

Doktor Zymm: Zere is zomezing you two are not telling me…

Man in Plaid #2’s Head (sighing): I am bound by my oath of service to…

Doktor Zymm (interrupting): I don’t care! I vant to know vat is going on in Mexico!

Cut to: The unnamed bar in Chihuahua, Mexico. Storm clouds have gathered, and in the distance there is thunder. Then all is silent for a moment, save for the pitter-patter of rain drops.

Then the front widow explodes outwards in a shower of wood and glass as Covalent Blonde and Rosa the vampire biker come crashing through it and land in the mud.

Rosa: Like, barf me out! You totally got mud all over my new boots!

Covalent Blonde (axe-kicking Rosa face-first into the mud): And I’m just getting started!

Inside the bar a full-on brawl has erupted. Bottles are breaking, fists are swinging and bodies are flying.

Yolanda (chasing Otto’s Brain across the floor): ¡Regresa, esfera brillante de sesos!

Otto’s Brain (rolling through tangles of legs and under tables and chairs): Hah! It’s gonna take more than a pair of great gams to catch me!

As if in response, Yolanda’s eyes narrow, her pupils becoming cat-like as a pair of fangs protrude.

Otto’s Brain (nervous now): Uh, yeah…like frickin’ vampire fangs! Guys! Help!!!

In the corner Marc Trestmans Windowless Van is hiding under a table with one of the locals.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Whoa, dude! Like, this has gotten pretty gnarly, man! Like, all this violence is really harshing my buzz!

Local: Que? No hablo ingles…

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (pulling a yuuuge joint out of his pocket): Sorry, man! Hey, hablo hierba?

Local (nodding excitedly): Si!

Within seconds happy puffs of smoke are curling up from under the table. That peace is broken by a massive giant of a man who grabs the table and lifts it up threateningly.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (offering up the joint): Whoa, dude! Like, you need to mellow out, man!

The giant of a man growls threateningly as he breaks the table in half. He then reaches a massive hand toward Marc Trestmans Windowless Van, but suddenly Low Commander intervenes. He grabs the man’s wrist in an expert grip and twists it until the man grimaces.

Giant of a Man (meekly): ¡Ay!

Low Commander: Don’t threaten my friend. Are we clear on that?

Giant of a Man (sweating): ¡Si!

Low Commander (releasing the man): All right, then. Go off and play with the others, then.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (exhaling a yuuuge cloud of smoke): Dude! That was, like, totally awesome! Like, how did you do that?

Low Commander: Well, I am a super-soldier. You pick up a few things after learning forty-seven individual martial arts and spending your formative years fighting invading Plutonians and hordes of subterannean mantis-men.

Local: ¡Caray!

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Cool! But, like, maybe you should help out Otto, man…

Low Commander looks over to see that Yolanda has caught Otto’s Brain. With a gleam in her eye she lifts him toward her mouth.

Otto’s Brain: Eeeek!

As Yolanda bites down, however, her fang chips on Otto’s nigh-invulnerable globe.

Yolanda (dropping Otto’s Brain as she holds her mouth): ¡Ack! ¡Mi colmillo! ¡Al demonio con tu invulnerabilidad aparente!

Otto’s Brain (rolling around her feet on the floor): That’s right, baby! And there’s more where that came from! You’re messing with Otto, now!

In response Yolanda kicks Otto’s Brain and he goes flying out the hole in the wall where the window used to be, to land with a splash in the mud near Covalent Blonde.

Covalent Blonde (holding Rosa’s face down in the mud): Hey, Otto.

Otto’s Brain: CB. You’ve, uh, got some mud on you…like, everywhere.

Covalent Blonde: Yeah, yeah…

Rosa (face in the mud): Brrrf!

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van and his local stoner bud appear in the doorway, with Low Commander behind them.

Local: Esto de luchar en lodo…Yo creo que va a agarrar vuelo.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (passing the joint to Low Commander): Totally, man. Like, we could charge admission and everything.

Suddenly the bar brawl spills out the front door and smashed window. The DFOers are separated in the skirmish. Bodies splash into the mud, and Covalent Blonde lets go of Rosa to scoop up Otto’s Brain. The fight rages on for a few minutes, then dies down as those involved wear out in the rain and mud, until everyone just shrugs the whole thing off and head back inside the bar. The DFOers reconvene, pretty much covered in mud by this point.

Covalent Blonde (still holding Otto’s Brain): Well, that was fun.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (looking in consternation at his sodden, now useless joint): Man, like I’m not even totally baked yet, guys. Can we go back to the car? My stash is in it.

Otto’s Brain: Ask Balls. He has the keys.

Low Commander (looking around): Hey…where is Balls…?

To be continued…