Intergalactic Gladiator: A Foley on the Matt

Baron Zemo looked at the crowd of pathetic villains sitting in his living room.

“You guys are a sad and wretched bunch,” he scoffed at them. “Do you truly think you have what it takes to be in the Masters of Evil?”

“We’re trying to be as evil as we can,” Kangaroo responded feebly.

“Well, you’re not evil enough,” Zemo growled. “Fortunately, this is your lucky day. The Masters of Evil have one spot open and whoever is motivated enough will become a junior member with all the rights and privileges granted.”

“Oh joy,” Kaptain Emo answered with a whiny, sardonic mewl. “Life is harsh and cruel and no one understands me, but now I might sit at the cool kid’s table. Just what I always wanted.”

“Shut up!” Joystick and Magpie yelled at him in unison.

“I’m not finished,” Zemo threw his arms up and pumped his fists. “I said that one of you will become a member if you’re motivated enough. Fortunately, I have a motivational speaker here to ensure that one of you might actually make it. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator, Motivational Speaker. Now he’s been getting himself ready and drinking a lot of Mountain Dew, so he’s probably really wired right now and really anxious to get you losers fired up. Let’s give a warm welcome to Jon. Jon?”

I stormed through the front door and hiked up my pants. “Hello everybody, I am Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator, Motivational Speaker. How’s everybody? Good! Good! Good. Let me tell you a little about myself, my name is Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator, I’m 37 years old, and I live in a van down by the river. Now, you kids are probably saying to yourself, ‘Now, I'm gonna go out, and I'm gonna get the world by the tail, and wrap it around and put it in my pocket!!’ Well, I'm here to tell you that you're probably gonna find out, as you go out there, that you're not gonna amount to Jack Squat!! You're gonna end up eating a steady diet of government cheese, and living in a van down by the river! Now, young man, what’s your name and what do you want to do with your life?”

“What? Well I’m Kangaroo and I want to be a super villain, of course, mate,” Kangaroo answered. “I’m the Terror of Tamworth, the Horror of Hobart, oy!”

“Well la-de-freakin’-dah, we got ourselves a winner here.” I jumped across the room and looked the leader of the Masters of Evil up and down. “Hey Nemo! We got ourselves a real live kangaroo here! Maybe we can ride in his pouch on our next getaway!”

“The name’s Zemo,” the criminal mastermind recoiled from my intrusion into his personal space. “And to be truthful, he has been somewhat competent with his super villainy. He just successfully robbed a bank and made off with a load of bearer bonds.”

“Zemo, wish you could just shut your big yapper!” I stumbled back towards Kangaroo. “Now, I wonder... Mr. Roo, from what I've heard, you're using your bearer bonds, not for cashing in the fortune, but for rolling doobies!! You're gonna be doing a lot of doobie-rolling when you're living in a van down by the river! Young lady, what do you want to do with your life?!”

“I want to live in a van down by the river,” Joystick answered snidely.

“Well, you’re going to have plenty of time to live in a van down by the river while you’re… living in a van down by the river! Now, you kids are probably asking yourself, ‘Hey, Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator, Motivational Speaker, how can we get back on the right track?!’ Well, as I see it, there is only one solution! And that is for me to get my gear, move it on into here, 'cause I'm gonna bunk with you, buddy! We're gonna be buddies! We're gonna be pals!”

“I’m too sad to be your pal,” Kaptain Emo whined.

“Well well well, what do we have here?” I asked “What’s your name, little buddy?”

“Kaptain Emo,” he whined back.

I looked at the nametag stuck to his shirt. “Looks like you misspelled Captain there, Emo.”

“I’m too sad to use the C,” he whimpered obnoxiously.

“Well you’re not motivated, I can see that, and if you’re not motivated, you’re gonna end up in a van down by the river!”

“Stop saying that, that’s lame,” Emo cried.

“I’ll show you what’s lame, not being motivated is lame!” I scooped him up in a fireman’s carry and began spinning him around. “This is what we call in the biz an airplane spin, though I don’t know why it’s not called a helicopter spin. Maybe they’re talking about a V-22 Osprey with its tilt rotor design.”

“Ahh! Make him stop! Ahhh!” Kaptain Emo cried some more.

I spun him and spun him and then threw him right out the window with a crash. Unfortunately, we were only on the second floor so it’s likey that he survived.

“Not motivated,” I said to Zemo. “Hey, Zemo and Emo rhyme. That’s pretty cool. And by cool, I mean lamey lame lame.”

“Will you just…” Zemo growled. His fingers curled and uncurled into tightly balled fists.

“I got him.” Joystick stood up and swung her stick thing at me. I dodged it and sprayed some knockout gas in her face, then tossed her out the window as well.

“Not motivated,” I repeated. “Well well well, lookee here. We just have you two left now. How would you two like to not live in a van down by the river?”

“Uh, well… sure,” Magpie shrugged.

“Not motivated!” I yelled and threw her out the window. “Well Kangaroo, I guess it’s just you and me? Do you feel motivated?”

“Yes I do, oy!” he replied.

“I can’t hear you!”

“Yes I do, oy!” he yelled louder.

“’Cuz I gotta tell you, it’s tough getting into the Masters of Evil!” I howled. “They’re led by a guy who accidentally glued his mask to his face!”

“Hey now!” Zemo yelled angrily.

“Not motivated!” I scooped up Kangaroo and threw him out the window as well.

“Wait wait wait!” Zemo howled. “You were supposed to weed through them to find which one should be a Master of Evil. Not throw them all out the window!”

“Funny you should say weed, my friend,” I said back to him. “Maybe you’re spending a little too much time with the ganja yourself. You know what happens to someone who smokes too much of the wacky tobaccy? They end up in a van down by the river!”

“But I still don’t have a villain to join my Masters of Evil!” he howled angrily.

“Observe!” I threw the door open. A man stood there with a maniacal expression on his face and a satchel with the words “bombs” etched on the side.

“So I said I said, you gotta have a hook, baby, and that hook is boom!” he mumbled.

“Who is this?” Zemo demanded.

“I’m the Evil Midnight Bomber What Bombs at Midnight, baby! I’ve got style. When you play with fire, you don’t know how much fire you’re going to get! Ha ha ha! An object at rest cannot be stopped!”

“Look at how motivated this guy is!” I said exuberantly.

“And so he says, I don't like the cut of your jib,” the Midnight Bomber replied. “And I go, I says it's the only jib I got, baby!”

“I guess he’ll do,” Baron Zemo sighed.