The scene: The Secret Island of Doktor Zymm! Assorted DFOers, Olympian gods, ninjas and hangers-on are currently in the lab with the Dimensional Energy Retrieval Portal as Zymm programs new coordinates into the computer.

Ballsofsteelandfury: So…you were serious, Dok? Moose and the others are really in Hell?

Doktor Zymm (punching keys): Ja. Und it vill ztretch even my zkills to lock onto zem. Zere ist quite a bit of interference in Hell. I have ze zame problem whenever I try to access Cleveland…

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: So, like, Hell is real? And we’re, like, going there?

Hercules (knocking back a beer): Oh, it’s real. And if you want my advice, you’ll steer clear.

Jerry: Because it’s the repository of the world’s evils, gathered into one horrific place?

Hercules (burping, opening another beer): No, because it’s just a dump, man! Look, Hell is just another dimension, dude. Like, my Uncle Pluto sublets a place there, so we had to go visit him on the holidays.

Dionysus: Herc’s right. Hell is kind of like being stuck in the world’s biggest trailer park and listening to non-stop dubstep.

BFC: That doesn’t sound so…

Dionysus: In Florida.

Everyone in the room recoils.

Covalent Blonde: OK, then, we definitely have to get our guys out of there.

Doktor Zymm: Ja, zat ist vat I…

Ballsofsteelandfury (shooting a finger gun): I’m with ya, CB! We need some volunteers, and we need a plan!

Doktor Zymm: Vell, I am vorking on…

Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Like, we’ll need weed, man. Like, lots of weed.

Doktor Zymm: I am not zure about…

Sharkbait: Clkt zkt nkmt! [I have no idea what you people are saying, but this is exciting!]

Horatio Cornblower: HEY! LISTEN UP, PEOPLE! ZYMM HAS A PLAN!

Moosemas Gorilla: OOK!

The room falls silent. A ninja coughs, but is shushed by the other ninjas. Everyone looks expectantly at Doktor Zymm.

Doktor Zymm: Ah…danke, Horatio. Zo…

Everyone continues to look expectantly at Doktor Zymm.

Doktor Zymm: Vell…I don’t quite have everything planned out…

Everyone continues to look expectantly at Doktor Zymm.

Doktor Zymm: I am vorking on it…

Covalent Blonde: Well, get it done, Dok! Who knows what horrible tortures those guys are going through…

Cut to: Hell. The Moosemobile is sitting in the Hellburger drive-thru. Moose is currently talking into the big plastic demon head, trying to get his order right.

Future Moose: No, I said three Hellburgers, two baskets of Hellfries, and three extra-large Satan shakes. Did you get that?

Hellburger Clerk (through the plastic devil’s head): Thrzee hzbrgs, zeek guddafrs unz exxil srzk…

Future Moose: Dammit, I hate these things! Okay, let’s just go inside.

Señor Weaselo: Are you sure that’s a good idea?

Otto’s Brain: Eh, what could go wrong?

WCS: Famous last words, Otto…

Moose parks the Moosemobile and the four head into the Hellburger. The interior is pretty much every fast-food place in Daytona at 3 am. There’s a sticky sound as the DFOers walk across the floor, trays are scattered around the tables and the fluorescent lights flicker dully.

Hellburger Clerk (as Future Moose walks up to the counter): Wcm z Hibrgr.

Future Moose sighs, glares at the clerk, and then grabs the intercom.

Future Moose (into the intercom): All right, you demonic slackers, listen up! I want three Hellburgers, two baskets of Hellfries, and three extra-large Satan shakes. And throw in a devil’s food cake. Mess up the order and there’s gonna be hell to pay, you got that?

The Hellburger workers look up from their workstations in surprise, and then quickly get to work. Minutes later, the DFOers are sitting at a table with their food. It actually looks pretty good. I mean, it’s the DFO, they’ll eat anything, but still…

WCS (digging into a Hellburger): Holy crap! This thing is good!

Señor Weaselo (eyeing his Hellburger cautiously): Are you sure…?

Future Moose (devouring Hellfries): Don’t be a worry-wart, Weaselo. Sure, Hell has a bad rep, but really it’s just another dim-

A deep rumbling sound outside the Hellburger drowns out Moose. The DFOers look up to see a half-dozen large motorcycles pulling up. The riders come stomping into the Hellburger. They are all large bikers with the heads of pigs. They’re known around Hell as…Satan’s Swine.

Satan’s Swine Prez (lumbering over to the DFOers table): Well, whadda we got here?

Future Moose (taking a swig of Satan shake): None of your business, pig-man. Just keep walkin’.

Satan’s Swine VP (checking out WCS’ patch): Door Flies Open? I ain’t evah heard o’ you.

Otto’s Brain: Big surprise. I guess you don’t get out of the pigpen much.

WCS: Cool it, Otto…

Satan’s Swine VP (grabbing Otto’s Brain): Hey, looka me! I gots me a brain!

Otto’s Brain: Well, that’s probably a first! Now put me down, you pig!

Satan’s Swine VP (shaking Otto’s Brain): Hey, is this thing a snow globe?

WCS gets up and pulls Otto away from the Swine.

WCS: Y’know, I could try to just talk to you guys, like a reasonable person, but…

WCS suddenly swings Otto’s Brain, bashing the Satan’s Swine VP right in the snout. The biker falls to the floor unconscious.

Satan’s Swine Prez: He hit Pinky! Get ’em!

The Hellburger swiftly becomes a battleground as the porcine bikers and the DFOers throw down. Señor Weaselo launches himself off of the table at two of the Swine, taking them down to the floor with a flying body press.

Señor Weaselo: Arriba!!!

The Satan’s Swine Prez pulls a big-ass switchblade out of his jacket and clicks it open menacingly at Future Moose, who is blithely ignoring him as he eats his Hellburger.

Satan’s Swine Prez (stabbing Future Moose): Y’see what you get when you mess with the Swine?!!

The blade breaks against Moose’s chest. The Swine Prez looks at the broken blade quizzically as Moose casually finishes his Satan shake, then gets up, grabs the Swine Prez and throws him through the front window.

Future Moose: I know we’re in Hell and all but I have to say, I’m having a pretty good time.

A pair of Satan’s Swine swing wildly at WCS, but he ducks, bobs and weaves,then smacks one of them right in the gut with Otto’s Brain. Squealing in pain and defeat, the Satan’s Swine retreat out the door to their bikes.

Satan’s Swine Prez (shaking his fist): You ain’t heard the last of us!

The bikers roar off, leaving the DFOers in the wreckage of the Hellburger.

Otto’s Brain: Hey, that was fun! We haven’t had a good brawl in too long.

WCS: If you don’t count the psycho clowns…or the zombies…

Future Moose: Those weren’t zombies…

Señor Weaselo: Or the cannibals.

Otto’s Brain: Hey, that reminds me…did you ever hook up with Mama Cannibal?

Señor Weaselo: A gentleman does not talk of such things!

WCS: That’s a yes.

Otto’s Brain: Yup. He done banged a cannibal.

Señor Weaselo: I never said that!

WCS: It’s cool, bro. I dated a vegan once. That’s kind of the same thing…in reverse…

Hellburger Clerk (walking up with the devil’s food cake): Zr ck, zrr.

Future Moose: Hey, perfect! Weaselo can tell us all the sordid details over cake!

Señor Weaselo (insistent): There are no sordid details!

Otto’s Brain: No? Then you’re doing it wrong, pal. Lemme give you some tips…

To be continued…