LNH: Classic LNH Adventures #13: A Poki/Ori Wedding Conclusion!

Arthur Spitzer arspitzer at earthlink.net
Tue Apr 12 18:13:04 PDT 2016

In this weeks reposting of stuff you can find in the eyrie archive
we have Jeff "Drizzt" Barnes' Continuity Champ & the Drizzt's 
Defenders #12 and Martin Phipps' LNH #83 Crossover to conclude
the whole Pocket Man/Organic Lass Wedding (which, okay, was
probably concluded last time -- this is more the conclusion of
the whole Feds arresting the LNH storyline).

Continuity Champ & the Drizzt's Defenders was an LNH series devoted
to Drizzt's character Continuity Champ and his various Space Opera
adventures in the Looniverse along with his teammates.

             | |      Classic			
             | |                      =
             | |      ____    ____    _    ____    ___
             | |__   | [] |  | [] |  | |  | [] |  | _ \  

             |____|   \__]    \__ |  |_|   \__/   |_|\_\
                                |_|  OF NET.HEROES

                                     ADVENTURES #13

                     A Poki/Ori Wedding Conclusion!

Newsgroups: alt.comics.lnh
Subject: LNH: Continuity Champ & the Drizzt's Defenders #12
From: barnejd at wkuvx1.wku.edu (Jeff Barnes)
Date: 17 Apr 94 21:17:27 CST

                              "Jailbreak Rock"
                         TANTALIZING TWELFTH ISSUE!

              Possibly The STRANGEST LNH Story You Will Ever Read!
	Conan O'Brien met up with Pointless Death Man, much to his chagrin 
and everyone else's relief.  Meanwhile, in the sewers of Net.ropolis, four
reptilian copyright violations awaited the arrival of the pizza man, and 
President Clinton attempted to divert media attention away from Whitewater
to the caning of some idiot vandal and by arresting the LNH.

	"This is Carlos Montoya of NNN's 'Twenty Questions'.  Tonight, the
issue is the Legion of Net.Heroes: masked menaces or merely annoying 
fanfiction?  My guests tonight are, on my left, famed paranormal expert Dr. 
Jim Cowlung and, on my right, famed paranoia expert Dr. Dee Henry.  
Gentlemen, so good to have you here-"

	"The name's Cowling," the scowling paranormal expert spat.

	The Drizzt turned off the television.  The capture of the LNH was
all over the news!  The President of the United States had actually ordered
SCORE [Supreme Command of Retrograde Eavesdroppers - D] to take the LNH into
custody.  Even more surprising to the cosmic entity was the fact they had
surrendered without a bloodbath.  But now the heroes had been imprisoned
without a trial in the superprison known only as "the Safe".

	The Drizzt wrinkled his brow in thought.  For all his great power,
he could not physically leave the Drizztsat, lest his five-dimensional nature
wreak havoc upon the somewhat implausible Looniverse.  On the other hand,
though, he could hardly sit by and watch his allies (albeit his extremely
suspicious allies) be unfairly abused by the system they strove to protect.
And besides, he thought, I always was a sucker for a good crossover.

	But how to free them?  The Drizzt's Defenders were off on a mission
in deep space [see #7-11 - Continuity-Conscious D], and he himself could not 
leave the confines of the satellite.  The Drizzt supposed he could land the 
Drizztsat on the Safe, but that would have the unfortunate side effect of 
killing those he hoped to rescue.  No, he thought, this calls for subtlety...

	"Silver Sphere!" he called.  The small metal orb floated into view.

	<Yes, Master?> it asked.

	"See if you can scrounge up my old robe.  You know, the hooded, vaguely
mysterious one.  It may need to be stuck in the washing machine first, though."

	<Yes, Master.> the sphere replied, leaving the room in search of the

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

	Several centuries ago, on the island that would come to be known as

	"Well, here we are, the New World!" Marlow Fipps said to his fellow
Dutch traders as they disembarked from the small craft that took them ashore. 
Just then, several figures stepped from the woods just up the shore.

	"Savages!" someone cried.  

	Fipps turned to see several Indians.  "I'll handle this," he said
confidently.  He strode up to the one who appeared to be the leader.  "I am
Captain Marlow Fipps.  Who are you?"

	The Indians' leader grunted.  "Me Chief Sucking Chest Wound."

	"Listen," Fipps said.  "I'd like to buy this island from you.  We can
give you many pretty beads and feathers."  He dangled a necklace in front of
the chieftain and gestured toward several crates setting on the beach.

	"Ughm.  Me check with tribe elders."  Sucking Chest Wound walked back
to the other Indians.

	"What do these clowns want?" Killed Seven Cockroaches asked in a hushed

	"Well," Sucking Chest Wound replied, dropping the illiterate bass tone
for his natural tenor, "I believe they want to buy this island.  They're
offering a lot of beads and feathers."  He pulled out his pocket calculator and
pressed a few keys.  "About $24 worth at current market price, I think."

	"They don't know we live on the mainland and that this isn't our land?"
Dances With Wild Women asked.

	"Apparently not.  I say we take it.  People will be laughing at these
morons for years for buying land that wasn't the sellers."

	The others agreed.  "This will make Uses Poison Oak Leaves For Toilet
Paper's sale of that bridge look like nothing," Programs in Turbo Pascal

	Sucking Chest Wound nodded.  "We'll remember this day - April 1 - and
make it a holiday every year in tribute to this."  He turned back to the

	"Ughm.  You gottum deal, white man."

[It should be noted that the American Indians who sold Manhattan to the Dutch
did not have any claim to the island.  The "white man" always has
underestimated the "red man."  It probably also says something about the
intelligence of New Yorkers... - The Ever Socially-Conscious D]

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

	Back on the Drizztsat, the Drizzt tugged at his makeshift hooded
"robe".  The Silver Sphere had been unable to locate the real thing in the
Drizzt's pile of dirty laundry that had accrued over the last few millenia, so
the Drizzt would have to make do with an extra sheet from the hall closet.

	He looked at his image in the mirror.  The sight that greeted his eyes
was that of a tall, ghostly figure, its face hidden beneath a hood.  Not bad,
the cosmic entity thought.  He stepped into the VR hologram chamber.

	Just then, a thought struck him.  "Say, Silver Sphere, could you alter
the hologram transmission a bit?"

	<Query: In what way is it to be altered?>

	"How about... glowing red eyes peering from beneath the hood?  I always
was partial to that type of role."

	<Yes, Master.  That is possible.>

	"Then make it so."

	The small orb hummed as it interfaced with the Drizztsat's main
computer.  <It is done, Master.>

	"All right, then.  Let's do this.  Engage."

	And with that, the Drizzt's mind virtually leapt out of his body...
even more so than usual.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

	The Drizzt's Defense Files (that truly terrific tome of tantalizing
trivial tidbits) have much to say about the affairs of the inhabitants of the
planet Earth.  For example, the Files originally contained this entry regarding
the human nation of C.A.N.A.D.A.:

			Mostly worthless.

	However, following Continuity Champ's brief association with Canadian
Spelling Guy, the entry was coincidentally changed to a more accurate and
precise one:


	It is for this type of brevity and accuracy that the Drizzt's Defense
Files have won such widespread acclaim from scholars throughout the Looniverse.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

	"Yeah, Sarge, but I just don't know *why* we have to keep the LNH here.
I mean, they've always been heroes," Safeguard Phillip Martens was saying to 
his commanding officer.

	"Lissen, Phil, ya ain't gotta like it, but we's got our orders and we's
gotta follow 'em."  Sergeant Del Tremens fixed his subordinate with an
understanding but firm gaze.  "That's what bein' a soldier's all 'bout.  An'
these here orders come from th' Prez himself."

	"I know, Sarge, but-"

	"No buts, boy.  Lissen, if'n yer that uncomfortable with this, I'll
give ya a week's vacation."

	Martens hung his head.  "No, that won't be necessary, sir."  He hung
his head and slunk out of the office, torn between his duty and his conscience,
knowing he would sooner or later have to decide between the two.

	Just around the corner, a ghostly apparition smiled and prepared to
make that decision come sooner.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

	Speaking of Sooners, the capital of Oklahoma is Oklahoma City.  Impress
your friends and family with your mastery of geography!

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

	And, speaking of geography [*]:

	Martens stood by the sealed Strongstuffium door.  Behind it, he knew,
was the leader of the LNH, the Ultimate Ninja himself.  Once more, his
conscience rebelled against him.  Once more, his sense of duty, his honor, his 
personal integrity, and his nearly-empty wallet prevented the armor-clad
Safeguard from doing what in his heart knew he had to do.

	And then it stepped from the darkness.  Well, perhaps not "stepped"; 
it seemed to float in an eerie, unearthly manner. And darkness was a strong
word to describe the poor lighting (Martens had been requesting for maintenance
to replace the burnt-out light bulbs for weeks...); perhaps "shadows."  Or,
even better, "dimness."  [What is this, the Martin Phipps Editting 101 
Course? - D].

	Where were we?  Oh, yes: And then it floated from the dimness.  Well,
perhaps gloom would be an even-

	[It was at this point the writer, in a fit of pique, did serious 
bodily harm to the editor (who coincidentally seemed to have the same name as 
a type of pretzel chip).  The story continues onward.]

	And then it stepped from the darkness.  It was a tall figure, wrapped
in a white robe marred by criss-crossing creases.  Its face was cloaked in
shadow deep beneath the hood, but its red eyes glowed like coals.  Its gaze
fixed him in place, a cold numbing fear gnawing at his soul.  And he could see
through it.  It was a ghost.

	And then it spoke.  "Phiiiiilliiiip Maaaaartenssss, I am the ghooooost 
of Fuuuuuutuuuures Paaaaaast," it moaned, violating multiple trademarks at
once [kids: don't try this at home - D].  Yoooooooou hoooooold the
faaaaate of the fuuuuuutuuuure in yooooooour hands.  Yoooooooou must doooooo
whaaaaat yoooooou knoooooow tooooo beeeeee riiiiight; freeeeee the LNH!"

	It vanished, but Martens knew it was still there, waiting to see what
choice he would make.  And Martens knew what he had to do.

	With trembling hands, he pulled his access card and placed it in the
slot to the cell.  The computer security system pinged, and an electronic voice
said, "Please enter voice verification."

	"M-my v-v-voice is m-my passport.  Verif-f-fy, p-please."

	The computer pinged again, and the door slid open.  Martens stepped
forward into the cell.  There, in the center of it, was Ultimate Ninja, trapped
in a huge glass POG!  Martens gasped.  He had not known the LNHers were being
tortured.  Within seconds, the ninja was free.  Martens supported him as he
stumbled from the cell.  Just then, though, the black-clad hero's head snapped
up.  "Now," he said, shrugging off Martens' help, "we free the others." 
Martens noted the manic gleam in UN's eye.  "And then, it's payback time."

	Just around the corner, the "ghost" smiled beneath its hood...

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

	Speaking of "hoods", another noteworthy fact is that Mel Brooks'
truly awful ROBIN HOOD: MEN IN TIGHTS (A.K.A. "Rotten Hood") took in a total
of $127, $11 of which belonged to the writer of this story.  Just thought
you'd like to know.

	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

	The Drizzt stepped out of the VR hologram projection chamber.  His
scheme had gone exactly as planned.  As he pulled off his makeshift robe,
though, he heard another sound: the sound of a shuttlebubble docking.  Tossing
the sheet over the Silver Sphere, the cosmic entity shuffled down the corridor
to the shuttle bay, just in time to see his weary-looking Defenders coming out
of their craft.

	"Drizzt!" Crossword Master cried upon seeing him.  "You'll never guess
what happened!  We kept Loquacious Lad from being convicted of murder, and we
saved the Looniverse, and we stopped the Infinity Dictionary from-"

	"Yes, yes," the Drizzt said.  "Tell you what.  You play chess, don't
you?"  CM nodded.  "Good.  Let me get out the board and some Mystic Mint
cookies [truly the food of angels: two chocolate wafers with mint filling
coated in chocolate - the culinary D].  You can fill me in while we play."

	As the cosmic entity and the games master walked away, Continuity Champ
looked on in disgust.  "Look at him," CC said to Judak as he gestured at the
Drizzt.  "We risk our lives saving the world, the galaxy, even the Looniverse. 
What does he do?  He just sits around up here in his satellite all day long,
doing nothing productive, just eating cookies, watching television, and laying
around.  He hasn't got a care in the world."

	The Drizzt just turned to the fourth wall and winked knowingly.


* Martin said I should start using more transition. =)

-- Drizzt (comments welcome...)
Jeff Barnes             | Last night my cable was messed up; I was
barnejd at wkuvx1.wku.edu  | getting C-Span and the Home Shopping Club on the
barnejd at wkunix.wku.edu  | the same channel.  So I bought a Congressman.

Newsgroups: alt.comics.lnh,rec.arts.comics.misc
Subject: LNH: (#83) Revenge!
Date: Thu, 21 Apr 1994 02:00:52 GMT

 ==========        ____
    // // // //== / / /  ULTIMATE NINJA!  KID KIRBY!  IRONY MAN!        ..
  // //H// //== / / /____ ___ ___________ ______ ___   ___
// // // //== / / // ___//___\\__  _____//___  //  |  /  /
============/ / // ___// //~~\==|  |===/ /=/ // /| |/  /=================
          / / /  \    \\ ~~~ //~~  ~//  ~~~// /  |   /      OF
        / /  '~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~~~~~ ~~   ~~~~/     NET.
      /____________________________________________/      HEROES

                          #83 -- Revenge!

The Safe, an extremely high security prison in Colorado:

  Kid Kirby felt naked.  He wasn't really naked (he was, after all,
in his prison uniform) but that's the way he felt everytime he was
out of his armor.  It was humiliating.
  It was necessary.  It was the price that a cosmic being must pay for
walking amongst humans, for caring about whether they lived or died.
True, the weapons that Nick Furry and his Agents of S.C.O.R.E. (Supreme
Command of Retrograde Eavedroppers; see GS LNH #6 --MFP) could not harm
him but what about Sing-Along Lass... or all the other non-cosmic
Legionaires?  He couldn't afford to take such a chance with the lives of
those around him.  Thus did Kid Kirby allow himself to be taken prisoner
by those working on behalf of the Loonited States government and to be
brought by them more than halfway across the country, stripped of his
armor, his weapons and everything and imprisoned like a common criminal
in a cell completely closed off from the outside world by nigh
impenetrable walls.


  Kid Kirby was startled by the distant (?) sound.


  The floor began to shake.


  The cell door began to buckle.  Kid Kirby backed away from it.


  Vammo Woman stood in the doorway.  "You did it!" spoke a voice from
behind her; it was Ultimate Ninja's.
  Seeing his fellow Legionaires under these circumstances caused Kid
Kirby to do something he'd never do in public: he smiled.
  "TO ME MY ARMOR!!!" he bellowed with his hand raised as if to inforce
his demand.

Nearby, in the armory:

"Escape in progress!  Repeat: escape in progress!  All Guardsguys on
emergency duty!  Repeat: all guardsguys on emergency duty!"

  lieutenant Geoff Byrne had orders not to leave his post under any
circumstances.  After all, in the event that the Legion of Net.Heroes
might attempt an escape, this would be where they would go; this being
where they had stored the armor belonging to Kid Kirby and to Irony
Man, Pocket Man's tuxedo (which is what he was wearing when he was
captured) and Ultimate Ninja's katana blade (amongst others) and ninja
bush.  Under no circumstances was he to allow the Legion to recover
their weapons.
  Fortunately, for the sake of his future employment, he could claim
no responsiblity for what happened.
  "What the--?!"
  Kid Kirby's armor, including his helmet, chest plate, back plate,
arm, leg and joint braces, gloves and boots, rose off of the table they
had been so thoughtlessly placed.  For a moment they floated in the air.
To lieutenant Byrne's credit, he took that opportunity to try to grab
them but there seemed to be some force, some... power holding him back.
Then, just as suddenly, they dashed through the half-open door and
into the hallway.
  "STOP IT!!!" he shouted.  His fellow guardsguys did their best to
grab the animated objects but they couldn't even get near them.  Even
those who stood in their way felt themselves being gently pushed aside.

  "We're surrounded!" announced Vammo Woman.  Guardsguys, their strength
augmented by hardsuits of Irony Man's own design (ironically enough)
were converging on them from all sides.


  Guardsguys felt themselves being pushed aside by a force of unseen
origin as some objects flew past them and towards Kid Kirby as though
being sucked in by a vortex.  In the blink of an eye, Kid Kirby was
fully armored once more.

1814, on the Canadian / Loonited States border:

  "I don't get it."
  Colonel Phillips looked down at Major Savoie from the lookout on top
of Fort Net.ry.  "Something you don't understand, Major?"
  Major Savoie nodded.  "The Indians, Colonel: why are they on our side?
What have we done to win their loyalty?"
  Colonel Phillips sighed.  "To them we're the lesser of two evils: some
of them are old enough to remember how George Washing.Net treated them
during the American War of Independence simply because they were
_suspected_ of siding with the British."  He grimaced.  "You can bet
_that_ won't be mentioned in any of their history books!"
  Major Savoie rolled back his eyes.  "Are they in sight yet?"
  Colonel Phillips nodded.  "They're almost in position."

  Colonel Burns was looking forward to this encounter: the war had raged
for two years without the Americans having captured any of Canada but
now, with the fall of Fort Net.ry, the Americans will finally have made
advances into Canadian territory.  He smiled in anticipation.
  They came out from the bushes and from all sides.  Colonel Burns'
troups hadn't even seen them, the native people of this region being so
adept at concealing themselves when necessary.  As a result, they were
taken completely off guard: after all, they expected all their
opposition to be secluded in the fort itself.  In particular, they
weren't anticipating any hand to hand combat at this point in time: Colonel
Burns' troops were being taken down before they could even raise their
  It was a massacre.

  Colonel Phillips looked down on the battle site and smiled.  "You can
bet this won't be mentioned in their history books either."

The Safe in present day Colorado:

  "That's the last of them!" proclaimed Master Blaster with a sneer as
the last of the guardsguys was locked into one of the cells that had
previously been occupied by a Legionaire.
  "So what now?" Parking Karma Kid asked Ultimate Ninja.
  "We'll have to see to making this prison defendable."
  Irony Man spoke up.  "But if we stay here indefinitely then we'll be
no better off: it'll still be a prison."
  "I agree!" chimed in Entropy Kid from the back of the crowd.
  "What do _you_ suggest then?"
  "I say we go to Washing.Net!" Catalyst Lass suggested firmly.
"Locking us away like this was, well... not very nice!  We deserve the
opportunity to face them and ask them why they would choose to do such
a thing!"
  Doctor Stomper nodded.  "I agree: this whole arrest was carried out
without due process!  We have the right to face our accusers!"
  Ultimate Ninja conceeded.  "Very well then: the five of us will go to
  "I'd like to go too!" interrupted Occultism Kid.  "I've been
monitoring a rise in the level of retrocothertic energy in this reality,
something which is not possible given that the total amount of
retrocothertic energy in any reality should be a constant.  This suggests
to me that some retrocothertic energy has been flowing through a breach
between our reality and another and I have reason to believe that this
breach is located in Washing.Net, DC."
  "Hmm," mused Irony Man.  "Coincidence?"
  "Whatever," snapped Ultimate Ninja impatiently.  "Pocket Man, do you
have a helicopter in one of your pockets?"
  Pocket Man nodded.  "Probably."
  "Alright then.  VAMMO Woman, you'd better come too in case there're
any SCORE agents waiting for us when we get there."
  VAMMO Woman nodded obediently.
  "Alright, let's go!"

Soon, on the outside:

  "There you go," remarked Pocket Man as he placed a helicopter down on
top of the hill where he and seven of his fellow Legionaires stood, "it
should have sufficient fuel to get you across the country."
  Ultimate Ninja nodded in acknowledgement.  "Alright, everybody get in!"
He, Irony Man, Catalyst Lass, Doctor Stomper, Occultism Kid VAMMO Woman
and Parking Karma Kid got into the helicopter.  Pocket Man remained where
he was.  "Pocket Man, what are you waiting for?  Come on!"
  Pocket Man shook his head.  "I'm not going to Washing.Net.  I have to
stay here to protect Organic Lass."
  Ultimate Ninja frowned.  "Organic Lass can take care of herself!"
  "But I'm her husband now!  It's my duty to protect her!"  He proceeded
to make his way down the hillside.
  Ultimate Ninja sighed.  "Oh for heavens sake, go!  At least this way
_you'll_ be safe from any SCORE offensive while your helpless wife
fights them off for you!"  He turned to Parking Karma Kid.  "Alright,
Park, let's go!"
  "Sure thing, Boss!"  Parking Karma Kid turned the key in the ignition
and the propellors began to spin.

  As Pocket Man made his way back to the Safe, he looked up to see the
helicopter disappear in the distance.  "Good luck, guys!"

A few hours later:

  "That's the White House over there!" announced Parking Karma Kid.
  "Set her down right on the lawn over there," Ultimate Ninja ordered.
  "Look," pointed out Irony Man, "SCORE agents: we've been expected."
  "They're hardly going to just let us walk in, are they?" Doctor
Stomper pointed out.
  Ultimate Ninja nodded.  "VAMMO Woman, you'd better get out first and
take out the SCORE agents at twelve, three, six and nine o'clock.
  "Understood!" was her reply.

  If Colonel Nick Furry had any qualms about taking the lives of any of
the Legionaires he didn't show any sign.  This was particularly surprising
seeing as how he didn't know which Legionaires he'd be facing.  "As soon
as they come out," he ordered, "open fire!"  His men got into position
as the helicopter settled down.


  VAMMO Woman's low intensity VAMMOs knocked the SCORE agents off their
feet, rendering many of them unconscious.  Ultimate Ninja lept out of
the vehicle and made his way over to the dazed Colonel Fury.  He placed
his Katana blade against the man's throat.
  "UN, NO!" insisted Catalyst Lass.
  "Give me one good reason why not!" hissed Ultimate Ninja through
gritted teeth.
  "If we kill him then they'll have an excuse to put us away!" she
pointed out.  "That's not what we're here for, remember?"
  Occultism Kid spoke up.  "The source of the retrocothertic energy!
It's here!"
  "LOOK!" shouted Irony Man.  "Up in the sky!"
  "Hillary Clinton?!" whined a confused Parking Karma Kid from inside
the helicopter.
  Indeed, the woman who claimed to be Hillary Clinton was floating in
the sky above the heads of the assembled Legionaires, the trail of her
white gown blowing in the wind.
  "It's her!  She's the source!"
  "Of course," said Doctor Stomper, thinking out loud.  "It all fits."
  "DIE LEGIONAIRES!"  The villainess raised her hands and placed them
in front of her in such a way that one thumb crossed over the other.
  "GET BEHIND ME!" shouted Occultism Kid.


  "There's no doubt about it: she's a sorcerous!" Occultism Kid noted,
having used his own power over the occult to disperse "Hillary"'s
retrocothertic energy blast and thereby protect his fellow Legionaires.
  "Now I know why you're considered an expert," muttered Ultimate Ninja
with vile.  Irony Man was startled by Ultimate Ninja's apparent distain
for his own teammate.
  "She must have this city under some sort of spell then!" reasoned
Doctor Stomper.
  "Can you reverse it, OK?" Catalyst Lass asked.
  Occultism Kid shook his head.  "One thing I could do is cast a spell
that will carry your voice across the city: it'll be up to you to use
your ability to psionically coerce them into listening to what you
have to say."
  "You'll have to deal with _her_ first!" noted Irony Man.
  "Hillary"'s hands began to glow as she gathered up energy for a second
  Occultism Kid acted: "I call upon the Crimson Bonds of Cowlorack!
Bind her so that she may do no harm!"
  Crimson retrocothertic energy appeared, swirled and began to coalesce
around her.  It quickly became solid, binding her arms against her chest.
  Occultism Kid turned to Catalyst Lass.  "I call upon the power of Dvandom
to guide the words of Catalyst Lass throughout the city to all who have
ears to hear!"
  "Or perhaps she's the Hillary Clinton from another reality," noted
Doctor Stomper.  "She might have a reason for hating us based on her
relationship with the Legion in her native reality."
  Catalyst Lass continued.  "SHE HAS USED HER POSITION AS FIRST LADY
  "That's telling 'em!" encouraged Occultism Kid.
  "HEY!" shouted VAMMO Woman.  "LOOK!"
  President Clinton appeared on the White House steps, squiting as
he walked out into the sunlight.  "What's going on hayre?  Hillary?
What are you doing up thayre?  Whayt're all you Legionaires doing hayre?"
  "Don't you remember?" Irony Man asked him.
  "Remember whayt?"
  "The LNH Registration Act!" spat Ultimate Ninja.
  The President frowned.  "Whayt about it?"  He looked around.  "Say,
whayre'd all the snow go?"
  "Don't you see?" asked Doctor Stomper.  "He's been under her spell for
months now!"
  "Congress passed the LNH Regristration Act!  We had your promise that
you'd veto it should it ever come to that!"  Ultimate Ninja grimaced
under his mask, the reality of the situation not having sunk in yet.
"So much for your promises!"
  "You mean..."  The President shook his head in dismay.  "Oh, I'm
sorry: you'll get full amnesty, of course!"
  "Hmmph!" snorted Ultimate Ninja.
  "CURSE YOU, LEGIONAIRES!"  "Hillary" managed to break free from her
  "That's not your wife," Catalyst Lass told him.  "That's what I've
been trying to tell you."
  "If that's not Hillary, then whayre --?!"
  Catalyst Lass pouted.  "I don't know.  I'm sorry!"
  "Hillary" looked down in disgust.  "How pathetic!  Very well then,
Legionaires, you may have won today but... I'LL BE BACK!"  She made
a sweeping gesture and vanished.
  "Good riddence!" spat Ultimate Ninja.  Irony Man eyed his leader

Meanwhile, down the road, in the Canadian Embassy:

  Assistant Ambassador Savoie shook his head.  "This would never have
happened in Canada: too much grassroots representation!"
  "Indeed!"  Ambassador Chretien nodded in agreement.  "And there's less
nepotism too!"
  Assistant Ambassador Savoie gave the Prime Minister's nephew a
quizical look.

A few days later, in front of the Net.ropolis studios of the


Meanwhile, in the office of the Cheif Programmer:

  "I think you know why you're here," began the programmer as he looked
out the window at the crowd below.  "I have to respond to this protest."
  McLaughlin Man snorted.  "Why?  It's just a bit of contraversy!  Our
program thrives on contraversy!"
  "Your program thrived on _stirring up_ contraversy!  _That_ was good
for the ratings.  Now though, your program _is_ a contraversy, with many
people -- including _advertisers_ -- wanting you out!"
  McLaughlin Man smirked.  "And who would you get to replace me?"
  "Limbaugh Man," the programmer said, coldly.
  "LIMBAUGH MAN?!" exclaimed McLaughlin Man with disbelief.  "There're
people who _hate_ him."
  The programmer grimaced.  "Yeah, well, right now _nobody_ particularly
likes you."
  McLaughlin Man fumed with anger and turned to go out but then stopped
at turned around to raise a finger at his former boss (no, not _that_
finger).  "You haven't heard the last from me!"
  The programmer smiled.  "Perhaps not... but NNN viewers have."
  McLaughlin Man stormed out in disgust.

Next Week:  You Can't Get to Retcon Hour without passing through 
-- THE OMAHA PROJECT! (Well, okay, you probably can -- and you probably
should find a much better route to Retcon Hour.)

Arthur "Same Classic Channel.  But Same Time?  Probably not." Spitzer

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