The scene: The Moosemobile, with Covalent Blonde behind the wheel. She is currently navigating the long, twisting road leading up a craggy hill to the Castle of Death at breakneck speeds while the others hang on for dear life. Low Commander is riding shotgun, gripping the dashboard with one hand and holding onto Otto’s Brain with the other. In the back seat, Marc Trestmans Windowless Van sits between the two masked luchadores, Señor Weaselo and La Araña Discoteca. Although they are courageus men accustomed not only to fierce battle, but supernatural horrors as well, they look scared out of their minds. Only Marc Trestmans Windowless Van seems unaffected as the car makes its death-defying ascent.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (out of nowhere): Route 66!

La Araña Discoteca: Que…?

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: That old TV show, man! I’ve been thinking about it all week.

Señor Weaselo (casting a nervous eye out of the side window): I am afraid I’ve never heard of…

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Dude! It had, like, two guys in a Corvette convertible, man! And they, like, went from town to town every episode. They’d, like, meet new people and help them out.

Otto’s Brain: Doesn’t ring a bell.

Covalent Blonde (twisting the wheel left and skidding around a corner): Are you sure this isn’t another figment of your imagination, Marc?

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Dude, no way! Like, it had this one guy…and then, like, the other guy was that cop on Adam-12…

Otto’s Brain: Kent McCord?

Señor Weaselo and La Araña Discoteca (in unison): Galactica 1980!

Low Commander: Even in the far-flung future, after countless wars and the near-extinction of humankind, we know and revere the work of Kent McCord.

Covalent Blonde: Really?

Low Commander: Oh, yes! I have personally visited the Kent McCord Memorial Museum and Film Archive on several occasions, and each time it felt like I learned something new about the great man.

Otto’s Brain: We had a Kent McCord film festival in college. We watched Airplane II: The Sequel, Predator 2 and Return of the Living Dead 3. It was glorious.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: No, no… It was, like, that other guy in Adam-12, man!

A silence falls over the Moosemobile.

Covalent Blonde: Huh. I’m not… There was another guy in Adam-12?

Otto’s Brain: Gary Crosby? I remember he was in some episodes…

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: No, man! It was, like, his partner, man!

Otto’s Brain: I thought he had a new partner every week…

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: No, dude! Like, the partner was the guy in Route 66, man!

Otto’s Brain: Marc, listen to yourself. You’re claiming that a guy no one has ever heard of was in a show no one’s ever seen. You might want to lay off the weed for awhile.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (sulking): You guys are jerks, man.

Suddenly the tune of Oh, My Darling Clementine drifts through the Moosemobile. Covalent Blonde brings the car to a skidding halt on the dirt and gravel.

Covalent Blonde (pulling her red and gold cell phone out of her pocket): Hold on, guys. I’ve been waiting to hear some critical news.

Otto’s Brain: By all means! Safety first, after all. Hey, maybe someone, anyone, else can take over driving for you for a bit…?

Covalent Blonde (looking at her phone): Don’t be such a… Hmm. Hey, Otto, is there another John Lynch in the league?

Otto’s Brain: Nope, just the one. Why?

Covalent Blonde (gripping the phone so tightly that there’s the sound of plastic cracking): There’s not a personnel guy on some team…maybe an assistant manager or something…?

Otto’s Brain: There’s one and only one John Terrence Lynch, Jr., CB.

Wordlessley, Covalent Blonde gets out of the Moosemobile. She walks up the road a bit, still holding the phone in a white-knuckled grip.

Low Commander: Is she all right?

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: I’ve seen that look before, man…

Flashback to: The DFO clubhouse, January 14, 2015. All is quiet until a large-screen TV comes crashing out of the front window. DTZM rushes out of the back room to find the main room in shambles and Covalent Blonde shaking Old School Zero like a terrier shaking a rat.

DTZM: What the…?

Covalent Blonde: Jim Tomsula? Jim [CENSORED] Tomsula???

OSZ: M-m-maybe it’ll work out…?

Cut to: The Moosemobile again.

Low Commander: Should I go see if she’s…

Suddenly Covalent Blonde lets out a primal scream. It’s a sound unlike anything ever heard by the stunned DFOers and luchadores. It’s as if the combined rage of those wronged over the entire course of human history was given one voice. As it echoes throughout the hills, a colony of bats takes flight and a coyote looks up in fear and flees.

Otto’s Brain: Oh, crap… CB is pissed…

Cut to: The Castle of Death. Rosa and Yolanda stop playing WWE 2K17 to look up as the scream rings off of the stone walls.

Rosa: What the heck…?

Yolanda: Es el sonido de una mujer que ha sido traicionada por los Dioses mismos!

Cut to: A strip club in Chihuahua, where Wolfman Rob and JJ Fozz are sitting at a small table. Sitting on the table are several empty tequila bottles, a large pyramid of shot glasses and several dozen lime rinds. Sitting on Wolfman Rob are a pair of strippers. As the scream rips through the club they all look up in a mixture of fear and astonishment.

Stripper #1: Madre de Dios!

JJ Fozz (blurrily): What the actual hell…?

Wolfman Rob (standing up in shock, dumping the strippers off of his lap): I know that sound… That’s the sound my heart made when Mabel left me…

Cut to: The U.S./Mexico border, where Doktor Zymm, Future Moose and Man in Plaid #2’s head all sit in Zymm’s car waiting to cross. The scream echoes across the desert and toursists and border agents alike look up in alarm.

Doktor Zymm: Zat ist…nicht so gut…

Future Moose: Holy cow…

Cut to: The DFO clubhouse, where Old School Zero and Abraham Lincoln are untying Brocky from his chair, where he was left by Future Clone Debbie Harry and PK.

Abraham Lincoln: That’s quite some pickle you got yerself into, lad.

Brocky: They caught me by surprise! PK faked choking on a Diggler’s triple-dipped donut and then…

OSZ (trying to get the knots loose): Next time let him choke.

Suddenly the scream sounds throughout the clubhouse. The DFOers (and Abraham Lincoln) look up in shock.

Abraham Lincoln: That sound…like a nation splitting itself in two…

[DOOR FLIES OPEN]

DTZM (rushing into the room): Did you hear it?

OSZ: Yeah, and I think we both know who that is. She’s in trouble, and she needs our help.

DTZM: LET’S RIDE!!!

DTZM, OSZ and Abraham Lincoln rush out of the room.

Brocky (still in the room, tied to the chair): Um, guys? Guys? Could you maybe untie me first?

A few moments pass, and then the door opens again. Abraham Lincoln enters and grabs the back of Brocky’s chair and drags him out of the room.

Abraham Lincoln: Sorry ’bout that, son. We almost fergot ya!!

Brocky: S’okay. I get used to it…

Cut to: The haunted hills of Mexico again. Covalent Blonde is still primal screaming and Low Commander, carrying Otto’s Brain, is approaching carefully.

Covalent Blonde: FFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

Otto’s Brain: CB? Hey, CB?

Covalent Blonde: UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

Otto’s Brain: CB! Head’s up!

Covalent Blonde: UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC

Low Commander: She appears to be very angry.

Otto’s Brain: Hold on. I’ll get her attention.

Otto concentrates and his globe grows brighter and brighter, filling the surrounding area with a bright green light.

Otto’s Brain (shouting): COVALENT BLONDE!!!

Covalent Blonde: CCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKK— Oh, sorry, Otto. I just got some bad news…

Covalent Blonde drops the pieces of the now-shattered cell phone with an embarrassed shrug.

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (approaching the other DFOers): Hey, guys…?

Otto’s Brain: It’s cool, CB. I get it. Chiefs fan, remember?

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Guys…?

Low Commander: I shall have to familiarize myself with this ‘football’ you all speak of. I quite like the look of that San Diego team.

Otto’s Brain: Um…yeah…

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Guys? I really think you should take a look at this.

Covalent Blonde (a little hoarse): At what, Marc?

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (gesturing vaguely): At, y’know, them.

The DFOers look around. Lit by Otto’s bright green glow they see dozens of people converging towards them. Slack-jawed and dead-eyed, they resemble nothing so much as…

Otto’s Brain: Crap! Zombies!

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (lighting up a joint): Naw, there’s no such thing, man.

Covalent Blonde (as the figures close in): Tell them that!

To be continued…