Sunday, March 22, 2009
Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator and Dr. Mrs. The Monarch.
Dr. Mrs. The Monarch: Thank you.
Jon The Intergalactic Gladiator: I wasn’t sure if I’d see you here tonight, Dr. Mrs. The Monarch, but I had a hench that I would.
Dr. Mrs. The Monarch: Wow, that was awful.
Jon The Intergalactic Gladiator: Yeah, I was just following the TelePrompTer. It’s good to see you though, and hear your voice in person.
Dr. Mrs. The Monarch: What about my voice?
Jon The Intergalactic Gladiator: Well nothing, it’s husky you know. You sound kind of like Kathleen Turner on steroids.
Dr. Mrs. The Monarch: What about your voice? You sound like a squeak toy with some kind of nasal problem.
Jon The Intergalactic Gladiator: Hey!
Dr. Mrs. The Monarch: Good thing you’re an Intergalactic Gladiator, whatever that is. Your voice definitely isn’t cut out for broadcasting.
Jon The Intergalactic Gladiator: Alright alright, let’s just get back to the script.
Dr. Mrs. The Monarch: Merriam-Webster’s defines a henchman as a trusted follower: a right-hand man, a political follower whose support is chiefly for personal advantage, or a member of a gang.
Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator: Whether the boss needs a new hideout built into a volcano, his sworn enemy exterminated, or when he’s just jonesing for a double bean burrito from the local Taco Mat, the henchman is the trusted lackey who he turns to.
Dr. Mrs. The Monarch: Unfortunately, the life of a henchman is a dangerous one. They face high technology weapons, cunning adversaries, and occasionally the wrath of their boss.
Jon The Intergalactic Gladiator: At this time, it is our privilege to remember those from the Union who have fallen in the past year.
Dr. Mrs. The Monarch: Thank you.
Monday, March 16, 2009
"Whatever!" cries Kon-el.
"Take it off!" screams another.
Off stage Henchy and I watch as Lin continues to try and encourage the audience to show some sense of enjoyment. The two of us look out onto the dissalusioned gathering of freaks and degenerates.
Henchy turns to me in his tuxedo and gives me a look of bemusement.
"Dude this is the worst crowd, ever." he states dissapointedly.
"Well what do expect? This were all who answered our invitation and they only came because they think Lin is Lindsay Lohan." I reply. "That and the lifetime supply of our one and only sponsor."
"Urinal Mats. Ugh!" Shivers Henchy as we turn our attention to the stage and Lin's attempts at warming up the audience.
"Well with no further ado lets introduce the twin towers of worlds toughest henchmen. Captain Koma and Henchy!" enthuses Lin uging the lame audience to clap. They don't.
The two of us join Lin on stage. The silence is such that I can clearly hear Kon-El chatting up the Jessica Alba look a like.
"Hey baby I'm fast as a speeding bullet in everything but where it matters." he sleazes.
"Uh-hum." I cough trying to get the audiences attention. "Worlds Toughest Henchmen is one of the most toughest reality game show ever envsioned. It was an honour to judge it. Of course you all want to know who won and what they get. The actual winner was hard to choose. Both Bennet and Gyrobo..."
"Just get on with it man!" screams the fat geek behind Kon-El. "I'm missing Sailor Moon."
"Try miss this!" screams Henchy and he throws the winners trophy at the fat geek.
The trophy was made out of a steel alloy with gold paint. It was pretty heavy and Henchy's over powered cypbernetic arms can throw very hard. The result wasn't brilliant for the geek. The trophy embeded itself in the Fat Geeks head. Blood spurting about all over.
The Jessica Alba look a like screamed and ran off. This made Kon rather angry.
"Henchy! I was so in there." yelled Kon.
"As if you were." snapped the Fat geek. "Now if one of you could please take me to a hospital so I can get this removed."
We did take the geek to hospital. As the trophy was removed from his head the geek asked the doctor if he could see it one last time. The doctor showed the geek the trophy.
"What! I don't bleieve it." cried the geek. "Thats not true... Thats impossible!"
"Whats wrong?" asked the doctor.
"Gyrobo was the winner." howls the geek. "I bet my Star Wars Collectables that it was Bennet."
Monday, March 9, 2009
However the head henchman here has ordered me to hold back on any hasty judgement right now. He's told me to wait a week to expand the length of the game, give us some time to reallt think about who should win. And give the other players who are not in the final some time to post their own opinoins on who won and why. But really all its for is one reason.
We'd love any posts from the other players with their thoughts on who should win the final and why. Of course you should be offering real critiscism and not just lamabsting the finalist.
Than again who am I kidding of course you all going to take the piss and say you should have been in the final. So let the sweating begin.
"That loser," I explained, "happens to be the biggest number two in the galaxy."
"Like, whatever! He's, like, got asthma and stuff. So, uncool."
There was no way I could change her mind. If there's one thing I know about cheerleaders, it's that they don't date anyone from the Star Wars universe. That meant I'd have to actually put some effort into this challenge. Lord Vader wants a prom, and I'm going to have to give him one.
Unfortunately, prom happens to be a very expensive ordeal. Fortunately, before he left, I pickpocketed $1,262.13 from Jon.
"This place is perfect," I said to the Administrator. "I want to book it for Vader's prom."
"Sure thing," the charming official replied, "Now, let's just discuss the fee."
"The fee?" I rubbed my chin in preparation for the upcoming negotiation tango that, being in the paper business, I'm all too familiar with. "How much did you have in mind?"
"Well, let's see..." he began. "How much do you have on you?"
"One thousand, two hundred and sixty-two dollars and-" Luckily, I caught myself as I made the fatal faux pa. Thinking quickly, I managed to minimize the damage. "And no cents," I coolly finished.
"Well, then," he replied, "That just so happens to be what I charge for something like this."
And so I obtained a venue, the wonderful Cloud City, for Lord Vader's big night of romantic awkwardness and sweaty armpits.
Finally, the big day arrived. "Rise and shine, Romeo," I called out as I entered Vader's Meditation/Life Support Chamber.
"I don't want to go to prom!" he replied, still in bed.
"What? Why not?"
"What's the point?" he sobbed. "Padme's not here."
"There are other fish on the buffet," I offered. "In fact, I got just the girl for you."
"You do?" the dark lord replied, rising from his bed. "Like who?"
"TV Personality, Melissa Rivers."
"She has a meditation slash life support chamber, too!" I added.
He looked at the picture and screamed, "NooOocoOoOoOOOO!!!!"
"How about not ever doing that again?" I said. "Calm down. I've got a back up girl you'll love. Just get into the limo. She'll be at the prom."
The truth was there was no back up girl.
"Listen," I said on the limo ride over. "Looks like we're going stag to this prom thing. But don't worry. I'm a great wingman."
"What?" Vader seemed annoyed. "I wanted to get laid tonight!" The limo's liquor bottles began to shake.
"Calm down," I said. "I'll walk you through it. We'll get you a woman." I gave him a shot of vodka as we pulled into the parking lot.
Vader entered the building confidently. "We're getting laid tonight. I can feel it," he announced. "There'll be no one to stop us this time."
We started off casually. We made our way around the room, scoping out the possibilities.
Darth Vader came to a halt. "Obi-Wan is here," he said, "The Force is with him."
I looked over to see an old drunk dancing alone.
Then, I noticed a scantily-clad woman standing by herself against the wall. She was holding a glass of punch and looked ready to be swept off her feet. "There's your girl," I said.
"I don't know," Vader said. "Maybe we should..uh, mingle some more first."
"Don't chicken out on me, man!" I said grabbing him by the shoulders. "The worst she can do is say no. Just go up to her and ask her to dance."
Vader pumped himself up with a few words, and I gave him a pat on the back as he walked toward the girl.
The girl took Vader's hand, and they both moved onto the dance floor. I watched happily from afar.
"It makes me wish I had a son," I thought aloud.
As the night drew to an end, Vader came up to me. "The girl is great," he told me. "She wants to get out of here, and I told her we could take the limo. Do you think you could find a way home?"
"Sure," I said, seeing the hopeful gleam in his mask's shiny eye bulges. Our little Sith lord was about to become a Sith man. "Use the Force," I called out, "and protection."
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
It's now time for the Final.
However, we need in make a cut. Since Bennet won the last challenge. That means either Gyrobo or Match have to leave the show.
I want to thank both of these fine beings for showing up and doing their best. Sorry, but someone gots to go.
Who will that be?
I thank you, but you are not tough enough.
On to the final challenge. I have made two different challenges for each of you.
Bennet; You make a prom for someone who has never had the chance to go to his. Meaning, you most come up with the venue, theme, guest and prom date...
For Darth Vadar.
Gyrobo; You must help...
Catch a Pokemon and get approved for unemployment.
Best of luck to both of you.
Dental for all.
Raptor Jesus rules.
Monday, March 2, 2009
The three of you all stood up and boldly pushed yourself to the max. You gave it all you had and strained until breaking point to bring your 'A' game to this challenge. As your judge I am totally impressed with all three of you. It was a trimunative of stellar posts. A trifecta of trifectas. A wonderful tour de force of pop culture and social comentry.
But unfortunately there can only be one winner. I can't award the three of you as the winner because then what kind of judge would I be. Thats right this kind.
Match - For you opposites dont attract but don't worry I'm quite sure that Fury will be Forever your girl. Nice work with the Skrulls and the violence was cool. Still you rambled a bit again. Pickup the action man get the pace. Rememeber like Paula sings - Shut up and Dance.
Gyrobo - Ah Taft. Even in Australia we represent for Taft. If only he didn't get infected with Skrully selfishness. The time conundrum worked too. Love your work as always. Also loved your pic with Jon IG. The small Taks were a great touch. Entertaining and confounding yours is a talent we all live in awe of.
Bennet - There's a bit of a resemblance between you and Rummy. Were you adopted? Makes sense with the adoption of your own daughter.
Nice way to get into the Raft and then get caught. Shows that your willing to take risks. Henchmen need to know that they are ultimately expendable. Also you killed reall heroes and not unknown guards, love your work.
I'll give you a clue. He's got his own action figure. He's got a rather short but hot daughter. He also goes by the letters H R and G.
"Hello," I said extending my hand.
The warden of The Raft shook my hand and responded, "Good to meet you."
"As I said on the phone, I'm with a very top secret paper company," I explained, "and, well, we'd like to borrow a few Skrulls for a while; we need test subjects for our enhanced interrogation techniques."
"Skrulls, eh?" He rubbed his head. "I don't know. I mean, they're worse than Muslims. They're like Muslims on Red Bull. Have you ever seen an overly-caffeinated suicide bomber?"
I shook my head.
"Pray you don't, son. Pray you don't."
"Can I see where you're keeping them?" I asked.
"Sure," he replied. "Follow me."
Warden Rumsfeld led me down a long and heavily-guarded corridor and into an elevator. He inserted his ID card into a slot and entered in a passcode on the numberpad. Then, we were in motion. "So, did you see The Sopranos finale?" I asked.
Before he could answer, the elevator stopped.
"Nice," I said as we stepped out into the cold concrete facility. "This looks just like what we had, uh, have back at Primatech. What is that? Anti-power Plexiglas?"
"The forty-eight hundred series," he replied, "not out on the public market yet."
I tapped on the Plexiglas in amazement. The inmate on the other side snarled and banged all four of his fists against it.
"Here you are," Rumsfeld showed me an empty cell.
"There are no Skrulls in there," I observed.
"This is your cell, Noah," he pulled out a microphone and began dictating orders to the prison staff.
"No! You can't lock me up," I complained, raising a finger. "I'm a very important person, middle management even."
"Sometimes even middle management is expendable," he replied.
I awoke in dull pajamas, like most mornings.
"Well," I said aloud, "I guess I lost this challenge."
"Don't give up yet!" the Plexiglas said.
"Whaaa?" I was not only confused, but quite bewildered as well.
"Shhhh!" it commanded. "Not so loud."
"They think this cell is empty," the bed added.
"But it's not," said the Hello Kitty poster.
"Wh-who...what are you?"
"We're Skrulls," Hello Kitty poster explained. "Here, you'll need me."
Before my eyes the Hello Kitty poster transformed into a handgun. "If there's one thing I love more than Hello Kitty, it's firearms," I said picking up the mysterious talking weapon.
The Plexiglas and bed transformed into lizardy-looking humanoids. "How'd your aim?" one of the creatures asked of me.
"I never get anything on the toilet seat," I replied.
"Great," he responded. "We've been waiting for a marksman for some time. Our last escape attempt ended with three deaths and an injury from friendly fire.
"Well, let's do this," I said, cocking the pistol.
We exited the cell and began our escape. Soon we were confronted by Donald Rumsfeld. Now, he had back up with him.
"Stop there, criminal!" Captain America ordered.
"I'd say you're going to the big house," Spider-Man said, "but you're already here."
"Do something!" one of the Skrulls shouted, and then they transformed into various furniture and went into hiding.
Asking myself, "What would Jesus do?" I pulled the gun and fired three shots.
As he bled slowly to death, Captain America mumbled, "Wh-why...did you...have to have...a gun?"
The Skrulls, now having transformed back into their usual selves, walked up to me. "Wow," one said, "It's so easy if you just shoot them instead of your own people."
I shot him.
He fell to the ground dead, and I said, "It's about the same."
As we exited the facility, my gun transformed back into a Skrull. We arrived at the A.I.M. base shortly after, and the Skrulls were on their way home.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
“Damn it! How does that bimbo move her arms with this chest plate thing?”
“Very carefully." I respond.
“Ha-ha! Let's go to phase 2.
Phase 2 is stealing a Titans Jet from the Tower to make this look all legit. That was easier then it should have been. When we go to the Tower, they were all whining so much over some emo crap they didn't even notice us. And the security system is a joke, I didn't even need any powers to break in, in fact I didn't need to break in I walked in. No wonder Titans die so often.
So we fly out to the Raft. Getting in was the easy part. I was in Inhibitor Cuffs. And as I'm being carted away to a cell the Warden hits on Fury who talks like this now. “Golly! That'd be ever so swell sir!"
Ugh. I don't know what she thinks Wonder Girl sounds like but she was talking like Miss Martian, and Vella fused, and on crack. Not that it mattered apparently an18 year old blondes can be able to be as corny as they like.
Meanwhile the guards decided to get special with me. “Hey let's beat this albino Clone! He he He's not so tough now that he don't have all hen fancy powers!"
“He thinks he can kill prison guards at the Vault, and get away. Well he's got another thing comin’." Another one drawls.
I grin, " Not only do I think I can kill a few there, but all of you morons as well I let the cuffs fall off my wrists.” They weren't on." After breaking all of them in half I make my way to the Warden's Office
I half expected to find Fury actually canoodling the guy. But instead she broke the guy's back." “Hmph at least you didn't screw him." I growl.
“Aw are you jealous that's so hot!" We ended up making out right in front of the paralyzed warden Fury's butt hit a few switches as we rolled around, and most of the prisoners were let out.
oddly A song by Tenacious D somehow got played over the intercom but just one verse over, and over " We're gonna f'ing riot! Riot!"
After me, and Fury were finished with each other look up were the Skrulls are kept. Of course it wasn't with the rest of prisoners. They were held in a different wing all together.
Getting there was pretty easy the blended in with the bodies of everyone fighting it out. I disguised my self, as Superboy, as Fury tried to talk our way into seeing the Skrulls.
I was trying to figure out why these guards weren't trying to wrangle the other super villains like the others I guess they were just you know assigned to guard the aliens , and only the aliens.
Something about Fury saying “golly, and gosh set me off, and I heat visioned all the guards.
“Oh that was smart." She gripes. "The Lock is a combination, lock, and the door is Adamantium."
I tear it open. And let her think for a few minutes I'm that strong then say. “That door is secondary Adamantium easier to break, and much cheaper heh. Your tax dollars at work."
We free several cells worth of the aliens, and get ready to go. Now here's the thing about the guards at these super powered jails the reason they're here is because they flunked out of SHEILD. In fact a lot of these guys have flunked kindergarten. This is why even the dumbest villain can escape.
We all went out disguised as a clown parade, after they rounded up the slower prisoners who haven't escaped yet.
After we had already gotten, to the T Jet I heard “Hey wait a minute Clown parade!!!"
The Jet was damaged in the riot. So we could only make it to New York which was crawling with superheroes Okay you guys take the forms of the Teen Titans I instruct
I wish I had been more specific. They turned into this.
Of course before I could explain what was wrong with that. A group of heroes shows up. Iron Man looks over the Toon Titans. "Man what kind of drugs have they been taken?"
“Tis sad too see such noble youths taken by vice." Yes this coming from the biggest drunken womanizers the Avengers have ever seen.
Wolverine sniffs me “Match! Ya son of a- It’s payback time fer snippin' me bub."
How can he tell any difference between me, and Superboy? Any way I yell. “Skrull!" And point at the midget.
Thor looks him over. “Yes that would explain why he's in every team at once."
“Look Bub Marvel just thinks I sale comics is all." Wolverine brags.
"And you are saying the God of Thunder does not?" Thor bellows.
“How many times has yer book been canceled goldilocks?"
“Have at Thee!" Thor yells attacking.
While all the heroes get into the fight we make our escape. You know I believe superheroes want any excuse to fight one another. We got to the AIM base, and the transporter without further incident, well except Fury heart her arms when she tried to stretch her arms over her head.
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Thank you for all of your post. Match, that was a job well done. However, there needs to be a cut.
My choice was between Gyrobo and Jon. Both you are masters of your craft.
But, I choose to cut you.
Jon, you are not tough enough. I am sorry, but you show some real promise.
Now on to our next challenge the Breakout.
You must break in and out of the Raft. The Raft is a superhuman prison. There you will free some Skrulls and get them to a AIM base so they can escape the planet.
Dental for all.
Raptor Jesus rules.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Oh boy I was hoping he wouldn't. I thought maybe he's dead. Oh such joy filled my heart.
But he just made it. Dammit!
Okay now on with the judgement.
Bennet you actually interviewed people and chose from what little you had. Nice cat fight apart from that it was okay.
Match you interviewed lots of prospective losers and the Punisher. Yet you went from funny evil to evil evil. Not sure how I can rate that.
Gyrobo that first picture was just magic and I loved it so very much. However from that start of brilliance I got bored cause you just mourned the passing of Codex. How is that completing the mission?
Jon IG talk about crapping on. I've met some fillabusters in my time but this takes the cake.
okay the weiner is.....
I recruited my daughter and my The Haitian to assist me in the process.
Let's get to the auditions!
First up, a young up-and-comer from...the backwoods.
"Hello, sirs and lady," he said politely. "I'm so honored to be here. Thank you for this wonderful opp-"
"Next!" I shouted.
"Ugh! Gah, Daddy," my Claire Bear whined. "You, like, didn't even, like, listen to him and stuff."
"She speaks true," The Haitian added.
I leaned over to him and said, "You need to speak in Ghetto."
"But I am not from the Ghetto," he replied. "I am from Haiti."
"That's why it's called acting!" I rubbed my forehead. "Surrounded by idiots," I whispered into my mic and the audience broke out into laughter. As the guffaws died down, I said to The Haitain, "Just speak fake Ghetto."
"..." he responded.
"Um, this alot of fun and everything," the contestant began, "but should I be getting you guys coffee or something?"
"Decaf," I ordered, "Cream, sugar, sprinkles if you got 'em."
"Yes, sir!" he shouted with an enthusiastic clap. Then, he hurried off stage.
The next contestant took his place.
"Hello," she said. "I am Hoda Kotb."
"Hello," The Haitian replied. I glanced over at him. With a sigh, he continued, "What be up with you girl, yo, yo, yo, shizzle." He looked back over at me for approval, and I simply nodded.
"I want to join the Masters of Evil," she explained.
"Why is that?" I asked.
"Because I want to kill Kathy Lee Gifford!" She began laughing maniacally, then quieted down and appologized for the outburst.
"Oh. My. God. You are, like, weird," Claire said.
"She's the weird one!" Hoda complained. "She's psychotic! She does things to me, terrible things!"
Security quickly dragged her off the stage.
"Well, she was rather loopy," I commented. The audience began laughing once again.
After interviewing several more losers, the first contestant finally returned with my coffee.
"Here you are, sir," he said, handing it to me.
"Thanks, Steven," I replied, taking the cup from him.
"What?" I asked sternly.
"Or Steven. Usually, it's Kenneth, though."
"Next!" I yelled as I shooed Steveth away with my hand.
"Hi there!" the bimbo said cheerfully. "I'm Kathie Lee Gifford and I just like being on television." She then whispered to me, "I'm not really evil or a master."
Before I could insult her stupidity and call for the next contestant, she was viciously tackled by a crazed-Hoda.
"Claire, cover your eyes!" I commanded.
Claire pulled out her cell phone and aimed it at the fighting females, "This is going on YouTube, like, totally!"
The Haitian stared. "..."
The audience cheered enthusiastically.
A terrified Steveth, or whoever he is, ran for cover.
"This is not only great television," I commented, "but the winner will be a perfect candidate for entry to the Masters of Evil!"
Unfortunately, as the fight drew to an end, both Hoda and Kathie Lee were badly beaten. They both fell to the ground in defeat. We watched as they slowly bled to death. The audience laughed hysterically.
"Oh, my!" Steveth said coming out of hiding. "What happened?" He surveyed the horrific scene before him. "These two sleeping women really made a mess of this place. Someone ought to clean it up."
"Congratulations," I said to him. "You've won. Your first assignment in the Masters of Evil is to dispose of these sleeping women so they can continue to rest without being found, uh, I mean, disturbed. Well, get to cleaning!"
"Yes, sir!" he replied.
As a pretend efficiency consultant, I’m often asked how to make fast, powerful decisions. I typically take four or five minutes to form a response, thereby discouraging future questions of that nature. Still, I’m now releasing this post, containing a brief example of my style. Take my words to heart, and you too can be recognized — and rewarded — for smart thinking by the highest echelons!