From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: 4 May 2001 18:59:57 -0000 Subject: The Cartoonist (1/1) by shirlock Source: direct Reply To: shirlock67@home.com Title: The Cartoonist (1/1) Penciller: Shirlock Lettered: G Category: Humour/ Graphic comic Parody Keywords: U.S.T./ R.S.T./ L.U.S.T Disclaimer: The whole ensemble belongs to C.C. wherever recogni- sable. Distribution: OK Gossy, OK Spookys. Feedback appreciated: shirlock67@home.com Inked for: All at Ephemeral, readers and writers alike. Complete with sound fx. ***** Outskirts of Anyhooter City Not quite midnight, but close enough... An owl watches two figures prance and split into two directions around the brushwood, following the evil cackle of a man two jumps ahead. The clock tower strikes the fatal midnight hour as they watch his daredevil leap off the cliff to porpoise into the shark-infested waters below. An expulsion of red gas pierces through the dark night. "You'll never find the cure! Bwahhahahahah!" He laughs maniacally as his muscled body smacks upon impact. The two figures suddenly freeze and start lip-mashing against each other. Clothes are ripped and strewn all over the buddleias. Three men in leopard-spotted leotards and pink feathery boas follow the trail of clothes to the edge of the precipice. One of them flinches when he dis- covers the identity of the fallen agent. "Great goolies!" "Who is it?" The most junior of the Grumpy Lone Men grunts to which the another replies, "it's him. Alec Cryshriek." "And the other?" asks the plug-uglier of the two. "None other than," the blond GLM says with a thin smile, "Margaritas Coverubbish. Looks like they did the naked nooky. Gentlemen, I think, it's time to call the U.S.T-Men." ***** Somewheres else, two nights later.Not sure where, but that's unimportant... It was a dark and horny night. Force Mudder's U.S.T-radar was on low. He couldn't believe a Canadian elk could actually mate with a donkey. But therein his faithful companion's arms was a braying newborn donkelk, large as life and covered with foetal crud. He also thought he'd never see the Grumpy LM dressed in pink boas and leopard-spotted leo- tards. But that's another story... "This is the work of evil Dr. Alvine Cursh." Dayna Scurry pronounces, "but why create a new species?" Force Mudder avoids her eyes, knowing full well that Dr. Alvine Cursh's gaseous spray is still in the air. He reaches for his seeds but dis covers an empty bag instead. "According to the Grumpy Lone Men, Cryshriek and Coverrubbish died shortly after their merry mollicking. Either it's a test, or someone's trying to get our attention." "Were they poisoned?" "Yeah. Something the Grumpy LM are calling the R.S.T. -Serum." "He can't possibly work alone. Who else do you think is involved? Walton Schaoeinnairgn?" "It's Gaelic and you pronounce it Vol-doonia Ski-Nair. No, I believe it's someone more sinister behind this. I don't think they want to create a new species, but what is the bigger picture-" "World domination? He who controls the sex drive controls the world." "Your alien tie pin is ringing, Mudder." Scurry says unhappy he still hadn't changed the melody ring. Scurry watches her partner pick up his tie. "Force Mudder. Who's this?" Listening intently, his brows knit in confusion, "Sir. Whatever you heard in the basement, it wasn't us." His partner queries him with a look, but he's acutely aware of her chest. The way her bosom heaves slightly when she breathes. Finally he informs her that Agents Jon Dognabbit and Harmonica Rayes have just been hospitalised. "For what?" "Walt told me that he thought we were moving furniture in the basement office." "But we *weren't* in the office." "Precisely, my little flame- broiled nugget. That's why *they've* been hospitalised." "For moving furniture?" Scurry was aghast. "They weren't "rearranging" furni- ture per se, but the furniture was definitely moving." The proverbial lightbulb "dings" over her head. "Oh. Smells like Dr. Cursh struck again." "You smell correctly. I'll bet he found a way to spray them with the R.S.T.-Serum. Have you gotten back the test results?" "Yeah," Dayna Scurry climbs into her Ford cruiser. "Damned inconvenient to be a Superhero and still can't fly. Meet you back at HQ." "Well, when you are grounded in Science, you're grounded." says his thought bubble. ***** 10:13pm In a subterranean stalactite- hung cave... Back at Evil Dr. Alvine Cursh's lair, he is bottling his R.S.T.- Serum into bottles of air freshener sprays. With the help of a band of Russian mercenaries, they load the shipment into the truck bound for Walmart. Free 30 ml air freshener with every 500g bag of sunflower seeds. "I'll make the mutants pay," Cursh smiles crookedly, "I'll make them do the horizontal hula if it's the last thing I do!" ***** At a Federal Building Lunchtime... Back at HQ, Dayna Scurry is looking through the papers. The door opens to reveal a dishevelled Force Mudder happily nibbling at his seeds. "What's the latest?" "Pork bellies went up 2 cents, weatherman forecasts heavy downpour today and R.S.T.-Serum is nothing more than highly concentrated fermented pinot noir. 150% pure concentrate." "Red wine?" Force asks incredu- lously. "I think Al-vine Cursh is our man." The doctor says girlishly. "Scurry?" Force Mudder interrupts, "I think it's time we kicked some butts." Agreeing, she raises her left brow. He drops his eyes to his partner's stilettoed feet. Sure enough, her sensible Keds have transformed into Bally knee high leatherboots, her no-nonsense pathologist's scrub melts off to reveal body-hugging sheer nylons. Her eyes are ice chips of crystalline blue. In a flash, Dr. Dayna Scurry has become her alter ego, manipulator of earthly biosciences-Cellular Girl! She waits as he transforms from meek-mannered Force Mudder, Federal Government Employee into the leader of the U.S.T-Men, Leaper of great illogical theories and protector of all beliefs (so long as they stay within the boundaries of U.S.T). He puffs his chest with great aplomb, his ribcage rippling beneath the red spandex material he reveals with a shrug of his Hugo Boss jacket--Captain Theorist! "What do you say we go save the world from R.S.T.-domination?" sneers CT, arms on his slim hips. "Not so fast!" Alvine Cursh stands in the far end of the corridor. He is brandishing a blow torch. The two Superheros stand ready to fight, but before they can barrel down the narrow passageway, Cursh sends the blowtorch to the ceiling sprinklers. "Let's see how long the U.S.T-Men can hold out!" The sprinklers react to the heat, sending great washes of R.S.T.- Serum into the office, drenching our heros in 20 seconds flat. Ssssssssssshhhhhh! "That inebriated squizzed up-nert!" Cellular Girl brings her cool blue eyes level with CT's green- grey-hazel eyes. He is the ultimate Superhero to her but she can never read what she means to him behind his deadpan mask. Dr. Alvine Cursh stands in the shadows, forgotten. "CT- Quit drooling." Her quick analytical mind accesses the dire situation. He blinks, realising how absolutely gorgeous she is. Her fiery crown now a screen of burgundy wine. He swipes at his chin. Wet nylon leaves nothing to the imagination. "Don't call me CT. Why don't you call me Force?" The Supe leers at her. "No CT! It's me, frumpy Dayna Scurry." His breathtakingly rapturous partner steps back, "fight it. We're partners. Friends. We love each other. Platonically! We've worked together side by side for 8 years..." "Frumpy? Have I been blind all these years?" His eyes boggle. "Maybe Dr. Cursh is trying to save us." "No! That's the serum talking, Mudder. He's weakened your U.S.T-shield. If we pretzeled, he'll control us for life." Cellular Girl cries out, her soul torn, "Oh, oh, Force, I love the way you pout." "I love your hair, your eyes. He who controls our sex life, controls us, right?!" Captain Theory's mind tries to make those incredible leaps of theory unknown to man or mutant kind. "Isn't that what you just said?" "Yes, yes. Fight it! Oh Force, you're sooo sexy in your red Speedos." "It's not Cursh." Captain Theorist finally sees through his nemesis' identity, making that incredible theory- leap. "I know who's behind this charade. Come on Cellular Girl!" Whooooosh! Together they look the retreating figure dead in the eye and start running after him. ***** Outskirts of Anyhooter City... Within smelling distance to the sea. With a great burst of speed, they chase the man out of the woods into a clearing. In the distance, dark clouds rumble. The first raindrops splatter and seep into their Superhero drag, washing away some of the toxins clinging onto their muscled limbs and backs. Captain Theorist telepathically communicates to Cellular Girl to get to the beach below the cliffs. That's where he's going to escape. By jumping off the edge of the cliff again. Pant! Pant! Pant! "You won't get away, Ci Ci!" Captain Theorist shouts just before the dark figure was about to jump. The man ahead screeches to a pebble-tossing, sole-grinding halt. He turns around pulling off his Cursh mask. "So, Captain Theorist is still ahead of his game, huh? How did you know it was me?" "Ex-leader of the U.S.T-Men: Ci Ci Arthur." Force says quietly, "I'd been watching you, watch me watch Dayna, before you disappeared 8 years ago. Let me share my theory with you. Creator of the U.S.T.- Men falls in love with his creations. You've been jealous of us all along." Ci Ci smiles wistfully. "I *created* you. I gave you life. And her. To protect both of you, I created the U.S.T-Serum, doused you with it every time you showered. But it worked too well. You became stunted and paranoid towards emotions and love. Do you know you are a joke in all fanficdom! A bungling caricature! I decided to give you what you both needed in order to go on: The R.S.T.-Serum. Respectable Sexual Trauma." "It's poison!" "No. For you and Dayna, it's a cure. I wouldn't hurt you or Scurry. I love you guys too much. And that's the whole Megillar." "But why?" "It's like you said. Control. It's all about control.He who controls your sex drive controls the world." "No. You'll never control us again." "He who laughs last, laughs longest, Force." With that, he waves a final goodbye and jackknifes off the precipice. ***** 10:33pm Mudder's home, the next evening. Dayna Scurry is making Rosti eggs benedict with blue cheese, while humming tunelessly. Force is trying to open the Sunny D with a Fiskars knife. Not far from the kitchen is the unfinished report. He never did find out what happened to her that night by the cliff. "Oh, you were right Mudder. As usual. Your great leaps of deduction led me to the beach below where his motorised surfboard lay waiting." "What did you do?" "I changed the molecular structure of the fibreglass into frozen H2O. I never guessed it was Ci Ci," she shakes her head ruefully, "but that must've hurt, leaping 120ft onto a iceberg. He'll never surf again." "Where is his body?" "We never did find his body. Serves him right for trying to control our sexual urges for 8 years. Horribly presumptious of him. Who's he to decide when we should have sex, and when we shouldn't?" "So when had you any?" Force Mudder asks, suddenly shy. "Any what?" "You know, molecularly-challenging, cell-rearranging, mind-blowing, nooky in the hay, CG?" "How could I when I'm saturated with U.S.T-Serum everytime we go take a shower? I have virtually no libido." Dayna Scurry whines. "No thanks to the Control Freak ." "Me neither", he confesses. "All I want to do is eat and sleep. Boy the kitchen is going to smell like rat's piss tomorrow morning." She starts rifling into his cup boards. He giggles a bit, surprising his partner who cocks an eyebrow at him. "I'm sorry, but as we stood there talking about these feelings, it occured to me that the only cure for Unresolved Sexual Tension is not Respectable Sexual Trauma. Ci Ci came really close but... he missed it by a mile." "What is it then?" She asks, opening another near-empty cupboard. He moves into her personal space, directing her to the bottle next to the sunflower seed stash."He should have left it to old-fashioned, all normal, natural and inevitable L.U.S.T." "I'm afraid to ask what L.U.S.T stands for." Dayna Scurry smiles, holding up the aerosol. Two sets of eyebrows lift off as the tinted gas permeates their pores. "Guess I'll just have to show you," coos her delectable partner closing in on her lips. Somewhere in a deep subterranean stalactite-hung cave,a man in a wheelchair laughs evilly. ***** "That's it?" The long-maned, goateed, old, but spry biff says to me. "Yep. For now." I say, scrubbing my chin nervously. He stands up, leaving me squirming in the sticky, warm vinyl seat. His face is grim; his eyes, dry without emotion. He says in heavy Texan drawl, "Young man, you are full of bosh!" Suddenly, he's smiling and shaking my clammy hand, "you have yourself a publisher. Welcome to DarKnight Comix, Izzy Berkowitz." end Author's notes: I like happy endings. Superheros Mudder and Scurry get L.A.I.D.; CC wants them to be soixante-neufed without him losing control;and Izzy Berkowitz gets published. The true Control Freak here is....me. Thanks for reading!