The scene: The dark, dank dungeon of the Castle of Death, where the DFOers are being held prisoner. Marc Trestmans Windowless Van, Covalent Blonde, Low Commander and Otto’s Brain are in a cell, as are their newfound luchador friends Señor Weaselo and La Araña Discoteca, after having been captured by the hordes of zombies that converged upon them.
Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: They’re not zombies, man.
Covalent Blonde: Who are you talking to, Marc?
Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Like, that narrator guy, man. The one that’s always talking about us.
Señor Weaselo (to La Araña Discoteca): What has he been smoking?
La Araña Discoteca: ¡No sé, pero yo quiero también!
Ahem. As I was saying, after the zombies captured the DFOers…
Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: There’s, like, no such thing as zombies, man. Like, Moose told us that when we found Teddy.
Low Commander: Well, he did, but…
Covalent Blonde: But?
Low Commander: Officially, under the reign of Emperor Moose, zombies do not exist. That was actually an official proclamation made mere days after my emergence from the birthing chamber.
Otto’s Brain: So Moose decided one day that zombies don’t exist because he doesn’t want them to exist?
Low Commander: Basically, yes. They sort of creep him out.
Otto’s Brain: That’s positively…Trumpian.
Covalent Blonde: Huh. Well that certainly makes birthday shopping for Moose easy this year.
Otto’s Brain: Halfsies on the Dawn of the Dead blu-ray?
Covalent Blonde: Only if it’s the original version.
Otto’s Brain (offended): Like that’s even a question!
Low Commander: Please don’t tell him I told you about his kinemortophobia. He’s very sensitive about it.
Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: ‘Birthing chamber?’ Like, what is that, man?
Low Commander: Oh, that. Well..it’s nothing, really. It’s just how super-soldiers are made…
Flash-forward to Moose’s time: A futuristic-looking pod opens. Smoke pours out as various lights flash, and through that smoke a figure emerges. He gazes at his perfect form in awe and wonder.
Low Commander: I…I live! The miracle of life is mine! The dioxyribonucleic acid that formulates my growth, my development, my very physical being, is mine and mine alone! For am I not unique, an individual shaped by millions of years of evolution into this, the very peak of humanity?!!
Low Commander looks over to see a technician with a clipboard. She pops her bubblegum and hands him a set of coveralls.
Technician: Uh-huh. Yer number is 89102. Put these on an’ get in line with all the others.
Low Commander looks around and sees that he is in a veritable warehouse of identical pods, with long lines of identical super-soldiers milling about.
Cut to: The cell again.
Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Whoa! That, like, sucks, dude! That sounds like the crappiest birthday ever!
Covalent Blonde: Wanna bet?
Flashback to: Covalent Blonde’s ninth birthday. There’s a party and kids are running around like crazed ferrets on crack. Li’l Covalent Blonde, wearing a 49ers football helmet and a matching #16 jersey, is opening a bright pink package. Her excitement turns to dismay, however, when she sees this:
Li’l Covalent Blonde: What the hell? OK, who the [CENSORED] gave me this crap?
Cut to: The cell again.
Señor Weaselo: That was your worst birthday?
Covalent Blonde: It was a frickin’ Barbie!!! C’mon, man…seriously!
Otto’s Brain: Yeah, well…try going home on your birthday when your wife doesn’t know you’re a rolling ball of brain yet.
Flashback to: Otto’s house. Otto’s Brain rolls in through the pet door.
Otto’s Brain: Hey, hon! Guess who’s not dead!
Otto’s Wife (screaming): OMYGODWHATAREYOU?!!!
Cut to: The cell again.
Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Whoa, dude! Like, that kinda puts a kibosh on the birthday nookie, man!
Otto’s Brain: Well, I didn’t say that…
Covalent Blonde: How the… Never mind. I don’t want to know.
Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Like, my worst birthday was, like, that one, man…
Everyone waits for Marc to continue. After nearly a minute of silence, Otto’s Brain gets impatient.
Otto’s Brain: Which one, Marc?
Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: What? Oh, sorry, man. I was, like, waiting for that narrator guy to-
Cut to: The Door Flies Open clubhouse, a few years ago. Marc Trestmans Windowless Van’s van pulls up outside the clubhouse. The driver’s side door opens and smoke pours out. A lot of smoke. Marc Trestmans Windowless Van stumbles out of the van and staggers up to the door.
Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (twisting the knob and pulling on the door): Another year older, man! Like, I hope no one, like, threw me a party or anything…
Marc Trestmans Windowless Van pulls harder on the door, trying to open it.
Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Like, what the heck, man? Is the clubhouse closed?
Marc Trestmans Windowless Van pulls on the door once more, and when it fails to open he walks dejectedly back to his van again.
Marc Trestmans Windowless Van (starting the van): Bummer, man! Maybe I had the wrong day…
Marc Trestmans Windowless Van’s van pulls out of the parking lot and drives off. Seconds later the clubhouse door opens and Old School Zero, wearing a party hat, peeks out.
OSZ (looking around): Huh. I could’ve sworn I heard Marc’s van.
Cut to: The cell again.
Covalent Blonde: Marc, I’ve told you a thousand times, you have to push on the door to open it.
Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Not, like, when you’re on the other side, man.
La Araña Discoteca (to Señor Weaselo): ¿Te acuerdas cuando se te olvidó mi cumpleaños?
Señor Weaselo: Well, excuse me! Was it my fault that I was hanging upside down over a vat of hungry piranha?
La Araña Discoteca: Nada más estoy diciendo que una tarjeta hubiera sido bonita. Es todo.
Señor Weaselo: And just who skipped out on my 25th birthday party early because he had a date with a telenovela actress…who turned out to be a werewolf?
Suddenly, a familiar voice from outside the Castle of Death carries down into the dungeon.
Wolfman Rob: A werewolf?
Startled, everyone in the cell looks up to see the face of Wolfman Rob, grinning at them through the bars of an opening high up on the dungeon wall.
Wolfman Rob (looking down into the dungeon): Now that sounds like my kind o’ gal! AROOOOO!!!
To be continued…
ALONG WITH THE OTHERS I CAN’T WAIT UNTIL CHAPTER 69; THE ULTIMATE BANKRUPTCY!!
http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ya0agkmlAvI/T6gGAm4qxoI/AAAAAAAAATg/UqaTN9SYP7s/s1600/spock+confused+gif.gif
Shit, Marc’s broken the fourth wall, what do we do now?
I’m honestly surprised the poor thing lasted this long.
Li’l Covalent Blonde: What the hell? OK, who the [CENSORED] gave me this crap?
Hehehehehe
You know, I’ve been hoping to eventually get to one of the DFO get-togethers and really look forward to meeting everyone. Since this series has been running, I’m now terrified of meeting CB. Zymm would just ignore me because I’m too dumb to bother with, but CB scares me.
You are a smart man and pretty much dead on.
http://a.fod4.com/misc/swansonsmile.gif
“You’re out of order! You’re out of order! The whole trial is out of order! They’re out of order! ”
-Written on the drinking fountain “OUT OF ORDER” sign at my office.
I laughed.
MTWV: The Early Years
Hell, I did that yesterday.
Took me 3 hours to find my way out of the bathroom.
Yet never came.
I just realized how dramatically different aNY far side comic becomes if you imagine the main character on drugs.
….and I just realized the same thing for Calvin and Hobbs
And don’t even get me started on garfield minus Garfield