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.

The Finale

"Welcome everybody. Its lovely to see the staduim packed out like this. Lets hear a cheer for all the great contestants." enthuses Lin.
"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."

Gonna make you sweat

Like wow! That was amazing both of you gave your all. These were posts of high quality and you both deserve to win.

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.

Thats right we're gonna make you sweat.

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.

Mission Eight: Dancing with the Star Wars

"Oh, my God, Dad!" Claire replied, "I am so not going to my prom with that loser!"

"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.

The 2009 Enchantment in the Clouds Dance

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.

"May I have this dance?

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."

Yertle the Squirtle

PARENTAL WARNING: This story should only be read to children who have a 5 O’clock shadow and exhibit symptoms of cantalouping.

***

“Can anyone tell me,” I berated Team Rocket,
“Why your boss hired third-party thugs out-of-pocket?
Are you hiding your numbers? You can’t be this dumb…
After more than a decade, your total is none?”

They looked down at the ground and they shuffled their feet
And they once more recounted their tales of defeat:
It was always the same, the same boy with his hat,
The same shocking conclusion, the same yellow rat.

I’ve never quite seen such an unbroken streak
Of magnificent failure! What horrid technique!
So I preached them the merits of switching careers
As we sat by the lake and it filled with their tears.
“Your problem’s in planning, you must keep things plain—
Why not sneak up at night and just bash Ash’s brain?”

My advice became shouts and I yelled until purple—
And that’s when we noticed an everyday turtle.
Just an everyday turtle who shouted its name
As it waddled past quickly, along the marsh grain.
It sat down and relaxed by the edge of the shore
And ignored us quite well as it started to snore.

I slapped my fat forehead as if sprayed by bear mace:
“Can’t you see with your eyes what’s in front of your face?
Can’t you see that that turtle that lays on those rocks
With his unfettered spirit and striped purple socks
Is the prey you’ve pursued far and wide yet not near
For lo! this last decade, plus three extra years?
They say you’re the worst, so prove you’re the best!
Are you honcho or hoodwink of Pokémon theft?”

The three smiled with hands wrung together like chains
As they thought up a plan, and they went to great pains
To construct a machine of Rube Goldberg descent
To capture this creature beneath a great tent.

Now, the tent was substandard and the clunky machine
Was so gaudily painted I thought it obscene.
The pistons were wooden, the girders were bent
And a family of opossums was lodged in the vent.
But the fools were just sure it would capture their pet—
Though I’d’ve just scooped the thing up in a net.
They flipped a blue lever. The machine hissed and swayed
And the turtle woke up and it wandered away.

The tent fell to the ground with a slip and a tumble
And the creaky contraption collapsed into rubble.
And the turtle was laughing! It laughed from the lake!
It laughed at my students! My pride was at stake!
Without thought to the law or with thought of myself
I hurled myself skyward toward the sea shelf.
With Jessie in one hand and James by the foot
And Meowth on my coattails we crashed the sea roof.

We needed no catch-phrase to swat out that bug.
No nonsense of starflight, nor scorning of love.
We beat-boxed that turtle, it took seven hours—
But after we caught him, we’d harness those powers.
Those powers that fought us to the edge of the brink…
Until mid-morning’s generous armistice drink.
We ceased our attacks and retracted our blades
And for forty-four minutes no battle-hymns played.
But on the forty-fifth minute I broke off the deal—
And I broke more than that with my boots, shod in steel!

With a final sick wheeze, it gave up the ghost
And the turtle’s shell crumbled like overdone toast.
We captured it quickly and contained it by purse
Until it could be tended by a pink-headed nurse.

Soon the turtle’s shell shone— it was healed and grew finer,
And they auctioned it off and bought South Carolina.
But when Jessie and James sealed the state’s borders,
Their boss caught wind and summoned his lawyers.
Thanks to twelve briefs in a rude contretemps,
Jessie and James now collect workman’s comp.

And what of the turtle that caused this dispute?
As far as I care, it’s been turned into soup.
My contract is up, so it’s time now, it seems,
To unfurl our sails and drift into our dreams.

Good night.

Finals

Ladies and Gents,

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?

...

...

Match



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...
Team Rocket



Catch a Pokemon and get approved for unemployment.

Best of luck to both of you.

Dental for all.

Raptor Jesus rules.

Judging with a little help...

Well that was the best round since, ever.

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.

So onto your judging so I'd better get the right music on.

I love MC Cat

Okay now I've got the right music on I can judge you all.

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.

Okay now who's won. Who's scored immunity and goes straight into the finals.



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.

Bennet wins