LNH/LNH20: Trux and Spite Grrrl Are Dead! #1

Michael D Friedman mdfriedman at gmail.com
Thu May 21 07:41:21 PDT 2015

LNH/LNH20 presents...




Written by Michael D Friedman


"Hey, do you want to play checkers again?" asked Trux, the anthropomorphic stuffed toy raccoon and loose rip-off of Rocket Racoon.

"I'm sick of checkers," replied Spite Grrrl, the nigh-invulnerable woman and loose rip-off of Tank Girl.

"Well, it's that or Monopoly."

"F**K Monopoly!"

The two LNH-ers sat in an eternal realm of white nothingness. They floated there, waiting for their Author to return from a 13-year absence and DO something with them. It was not happening, but at least he had left board games for them to play.

"I really wish I had my soulspork," said Trux.

"You've said that EVERY FREAKING DAY since we've been here," yelled Spite Grrrl. "I'm getting sick of it."

"I'm getting sick of you," replied Trux meekly.


"Nothing," said Trux with a tear in his eye. "Nothing at all."


There was a time when the two superheroes (to use a term loosely) were on top of the world. They had more series and mini-series than you could shake a soulspork at. True, none of them ever quite FINISHED, and yes, I ended that last sentence with a preposition. Sue me. No, on second thought, don't. It would be a waste of taxpayer money and nobody would be happy after the court decision. 

Anyway, I digress... in the eternal nothingness, the two just sat and argued all day long. Pretty much the same thing they had done during their time in Looniverse proper. Now, they merely floated in the space between issues. A 13-year space. It was getting old, but there was nothing they could do until their Author appeared.

It just so happened that the Author was around. He just didn't care about them anymore.

Time changes things, and a poorly-plotted series of stories about a girl that yells a lot and her talking stuffed animal wasn't high on his list of things to finish. And so, there they sat in nothingness... stories unended, plots unresolved.



A three-headed beast woke up. He had been dormant in his fiery lair for several years, awaiting this exact moment. This dragon/hellbeast/executive felt something odd in the air. 

Yes, there was talk of obscure superheroes long forgotten.

The three headed beast snorted a breath of fire, and called for his executive assistant.

"Carlos," he yelled. "Bring me... THE EXECUTIVE SUMMARY!"

"Right away sir," screamed Carlos, a man dressed in work clothes that were literally on fire.

He ducked around a corner and returned with some papers, which somehow magically did NOT catch fire in his hands.

The three-headed beast applied his reading glasses and looked over the report.

"_Guardians of the Galaxy_ earned how much? They greenlit a new _Coach_ series? ANOTHER _Spider-Man_ reboot? Affleck is playing Batman!? _Full House_ is coming to Netflix? This can't be right!"

"I assure you, it is," stuttered Carlos.

"Excellent. The prophecy has come true... Now go get me a bottled water and some gluten-free muffins. I need to start my day."

"Yes sir," screamed Carlos, in pain of eternal fire.

"It is time for Reboot/Relaunch/Sequel to RISE!"

Somewhere in the nothingness and whiteness, Spite Grrrl heard a grumble.

"That wasn't me," said Trux. "I swear I didn't fart."

"Shh, SHUT UP," yelled Spite Grrrl. "I think I heard a grumble."

That's what I said.

"Was that the Author?" asked Trux.

"No, it's-- it's something else," said Spite Grrrl. "Something I haven't heard before."

"It's probably just gas," said Trux. "What did you eat this morning?"

"Trux, we've been in purgatory for 13 years. I've eaten nothing!"

"You don't have to be so mean about it."

"You've become a big ***** since we've been here."

"Noted," noted Trux.

Suddenly, the two saw it. It looked like a rip in the nothingness. Color seemed to burst forth from the rip like a unicorn puking rainbows.

"Holy crap," was all that Spite Grrrl could say. She then tried to touch the color...



Alexis Parsons, a typical 16-year-old girl, sat alone in her Mom's one bedroom apartment watching cartoons based on the LNH's adventures. She cuddled her stuffed racoon as she did so, lost in a world of net.heroes and spandex.

She wished she could be one of them. Instead, she was Alexis Parsons, a self-proclaimed "geeky nerd" that nobody ever seemed to notice in school. She tended to blend into the background, never trying to get too involved in anything or with anybody. 

She liked being alone, with her comic books, collectible vinyl toys and her favorite stuffed raccoon, Trux. She would pretend that Trux talked to her and was her best friend in the world. After all, she didn't have any in school.

Her mom was gone for the night, her second-shift at Netropolis General. 

"Should we get some food?" Alexis asked Trux, holding the stuffed animal up to her face.

There was no audible response, but Alexis said "Okay," anyway and got up from the couch, holding Trux by the paw.

She went into the kitchen and scanned the refrigerator. Some leftover pizza, a bag of brussels sprouts and some expired milk. Nothing good. 

"We should go to the store," Alexis said. She put on her coat and backpack, and headed out the door.


Meanwhile, a man dressed in a pig costume ran down the street.

His name was Damian, and was supposed to be handing out flyers for The Happy Pig, a new barbecue restaurant opening about seven blocks away.

Damian held a canister of a green, glowing mist in his hand and he was being chased by some very angry men, dressed in black suits. They also had guns and fired them at will, ignoring the innocent bystanders on the street -- the few that there were at 11 o'clock at night.

Don't ask why Damian stole this canister. He just did. He was a nobody, a common street thug who was relegated to wearing a pig costume and spinning signs for money. He saw his opportunity and took it. The canister had to be worth a lot of money. After all, the men making the exchange in the park next to him had large briefcases filled with bills. 

He didn't have a plan. He just knew that he could sell it. If only he could live long enough to find a buyer...


Further down the street Alexis walked the other way, carrying Trux in a backpack and smoking a cigarette that she "borrowed" from her mom's dresser drawer.

That's when she saw the large pig barrelling toward her.

"Help," yelled the pig. "They're shooting at me!"

Alexis had no idea what to do. She instinctively rushed Damian down an alleyway and whisper/yelled to him, "Hide."

Two suited men ran around the corner, their guns pointed at Alexis.

"Where did he go?" one of the men demanded.

"Who?" Alexis played dumb.

"The pig."

"I have no idea what you are talking about," she continued.

"Get the bear!" yelled the other man, noticing Trux in Alexis's backpack.

"He's a raccoon, you idiot!" yelled Alexis as she tried to fight him off. 

The man had grabbed Trux and held up the raccoon by it's head. He pointed a gun at his head.

"Talk, or the bear gets it!"

"He's a raccoon!"

"I don't care!" yelled the man. He ripped off Trux's head and tossed it to the ground.

"Nooooo!" Alexis screamed and jumped at the man.

He pulled the trigger, and Alexis was shot in the heart. She fell to the ground, dead, right next to her best friend in the world, a headless, stuffed toy raccoon.

At this point, Damian decided to run from his hiding place. But the other suited man saw him make his break, and shot at him. Damian, grabbed his knee in pain and fell to the ground, dropping the canister. It cracked as it hit the ground, and the mist started to escape.

"Crap, let's get the hell out of here," said one of the men to the other. They both nodded at each other and left Damian screaming in pain.

The mist began to infiltrate Damian's lungs. It seeped into Alexis's wounds and into the ripped shreds of Trux's fur.

Damian stumbled off, down the alleyway, gasping for breath. He stumbled near a garbage bin.

An old woman came out of the building's side door, using a walker. 

"What's all the racket?" she yelled into the dark alley.

"Nothing," said Alexis, who suddenly was not dead. In fact, she showed no wounds at all. 

"I'm trying to sleep," the old lady grumbled as she slowly went back inside.

Alexis looked around in shock. She was completely fine. She had blood and bullet hole on her clothes, but otherwise she was a healthy 16-year-old girl.

Except for Trux. Where was Trux? 

"OMG, Trux," she thought to herself, remembering her poor friend as he was ripped in half.

"Trux?" she cried, aloud.

"Yeah, girl? What's up?" came a voice, soon followed by a stuffed toy raccoon, walking into the light. "You okay?"


(c) 2015 Michael D Friedman. 

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