LNH: Classic LNH Adventures #130: Infinite Leadership Cry.Sig Part Six
Arthur Spitzer
arspitzer2 at gmail.com
Sun Dec 8 13:28:03 PST 2019
You can sift through the racc list archive
https://lists.eyrie.org/pipermail/racc/
or you can try google groups racc for these stories that make up the sixth
section of Infinite Leadership Cry.Sig (or Crisis).
LNH Comics Presents #45 is by Jessica "Jaelle" Ihimaera-Smiler. Pulls-Paper-
Out-of-Hats Lad's sticky fingers pulls out another two names -- Drabble
Girl and Writer's Block Woman. And will the way Drabble Girl disappears in
this issue poke a lot of holes into the eventual revelation about how every
one is disappearing? Or will we have all completely forgotten about it by
the time I repost that issue?
And LNHCP #46 is by Mitchell "Tarq" Crouch. Politically Correct Person is
the new Person of Head Honchoness American. But can They find away to deal
with the Turtles of Apocalyptic Proportions that doesn't offend anyone in our
more Woke Age?
Find out in..
_
| | Classic
| | =
| | ____ ____ _ ____ ___
| |__ | [] | | [] | | | | [] | | _ \
|____| \__] \__ | |_| \__/ |_|\_\
||
|_| OF NET.HEROES
ADVENTURES #130
=====================
Infinite Leadership Cry.Sig Part Six
=====================
From: Jessica Ihimaera-Smiler <jae... at ihug.co.nz>
Subject: [LNH] LNH Comics Presents #45: Infinite Leadership Cry.sig Ep. 10
Date: Tue, 10 Apr 2007 16:07:18 +0000 (UTC)
LNH Comics Presents #45
Infinite Leadership Cry.sig: Episode 10
"Writer's Block Woman"
by Jaelle (with parts of the ending contributed by Saxon Brenton)
10th April 2007
In the LNH cafeteria, the Legionnaires settled down with their assorted
drinks, breakfasts, newspapers and laptops, and waited for the latest
leader to be chosen.
Pulls-Paper-Out-Of-Hats Lad groaned as his hand came clear of the hat.
"Two slips of paper again?"
"It's not (*&$in' Suddenly Exploding Boy again is it?"
Innovative-Offense Boy asked. "Cos I ain't seen him since I helped clean
the #%&in' stains off the wall and if he's back I've got somethin' to
say about that."
"No, no," Pulls-Paper-Out-Of-Hats Lad consulted the first piece of
paper. "This time it's... Drabble Girl."
Drabble Girl looked startled and pleased at being selected, clasping her
hands together as she thought quickly.
"We must find out why our leaders are all disappearing. I have a plan..."
Everyone blinked as, before their very eyes, Drabble Girl suddenly vanished.
"What the hell?" Sarcastic Lad demanded. "It's not even midnight yet!"
Fourth Wall Lass counted quickly and then shook her head. "No, she just
hit the 100 word limit on her appearances and had to go."
"So, does that count or what?"
"For now we'll assume that it does," Doctor Stomper said, shrugging. "In
the meantime, if we could have the second name please?"
Pulls-Paper-Out-Of-Hats Lad glanced at the next name. "Writer's Block
Woman."
The door to the cafeteria slammed open. Backlit in the doorway posed a
noble figure.
"What's this? A plea... nay, a cry for aid. When one is called by the
winds of need and destiny, one must then answer the call! And so it is
that I have arrived. Fear not, for I am WRITER'S BLOCK WOMAN! A hero and
a lady. And a firm supporter of the Net.Zealand Forest and Bird Society!"
"You're also today's leader of the LNH," Sarcastic Lad said, handing her
a clipboard. "Here's the to-do list that Limp-Asparagus Lad started and
then left behind when he vanished mysteriously like all of our previous
leaders this month. Congratulations."
"Me?" Writer's Block Woman went pink, which matched nicely with her
purple and gold costume. "You picked me? I... I don't know what to say!
This is so unexpected! Oh gosh. I don't have a speech. Ummm... well,
first I'd like to thank all the members of the LNH for choosing me, and
I promise to be the best leader you've ever had. I'd particularly like
to single out New Look Lass, who made me this latest variation on my
fabulous costume, and Cheesecake-Eater Lad, who created the wonderful
neopolitan cheesecake I had last week... where is he anyway? Oh, also,
thanks to Kiwi, Kiwi and Kiwi Incorporated, the fantastic house-sitting
service I hire to take care of things at home while I'm out heroing... I
couldn't do it without you guys. I'd also like to thank Stephen, Jane,
Olivia, Samantha, Jen, Jamas, Toni, Topaz, Marcus, John, Paul, George,
Ringo and Helen from Net.Zealand. And also my other Net.Zealand friends
Amy, Brett, Carolynne, Diana, Edward, Frances..."
"So... do you think she noticed the bit about disappearing at midnight
yet?" Fuzzy asked.
"Kylie, Lisa, Matthew..."
"I highly doubt it."
"Stewart, Tane, Ursula..."
Mouse slouched into the cafeteria behind her mother, rubbing her eyes
and yawning. "Did I miss the draw? Who's todays sucker?"
"Yvette and Zoe. Oh, and of course I'd like to thank my wonderful
daughter and sidekick, Mouse, for supporting me in all my endeavours to
date, and who will continue to support me as I begin my tenure as new
LNH leader!"
"... what?"
**
"OH HELL NO!"
**
After Mouse had been calmed down and the resultant destruction repaired
and cleaned up, the LNH once again reconferred to await the rulings of
their leader.
"So, what's the plan?" Fuzzy asked.
All eyes turned to Writer's Block Woman expectantly.
She blinked at them. "Plan? Why yes... a leader must lead! And so must
I. Let me see... what should we do, what should we do?"
Waves of writer's block began to emanate from the heroine as she pondered.
"We could... team up to fight some gargantuan evil threat from beyond
the cosmos! Or... split up and go off and battle individually. There's
so many here, we could do it through two titles. Perhaps Limited LNH
Comics Presents and Canny LNH Comics Presents? But with matching
costumes to identify us. Or not? Perhaps we should split up and then
have internal conflicts between the two teams? I... I can't decide. I
don't know what to do!"
Mouse watched as various LNHers began to reel indecisively around her,
and pondered whether or not she felt like helping out. Darn heroing
instincts.
"Why don't you check the to-do list?" She called out.
A look of relief spread across WBW's face. "Yes! Of course. Let's see.
'1) Balance budget.' Well, that seems important! Just as a balanced diet
is important to the wellbeing of a person, so a balanced budget is
crucial to the wellbeing of an organisation! And here is the budget, and
I see that our income and expenditure do not match."
A chill trickled down Mouse's spine, and then jumped to the next person
in range who had had experience with WBW's concept of accounting in the
past.
"Yipes! That's cold!"
WBW raised the clipboard high. "The budget must be balanced!" She
announced loudly. "We must raise our income... so we will now all go out
and buy expensive things and bring them into the LNH HQ so that there is
more valuable stuff coming in than going out!"
Mouse thunked her head into the table.
Doctor Stomper made a valiant effort to avert the chaos that was about
to descend. "Writer's Block Woman, that's not exactly how income works..."
"LET'S GO SHOPPING!!!"
As a battle cry, it worked surprisingly well.
**
Mouse buried her head in her arms as the HQ emptied rapidly, gleeful
LNHers enthusiastically following their new leader and shouting
suggestions about what they should buy.
"Oh dear..." Doctor Stomper cleared his throat, feeling vaguely guilty.
"Well, perhaps now that it's a bit quieter around here we will make more
progress on our research into where all the previous leaders have
disappeared to. I know you're worried about your mother, Mouse, so you
are welcome to assist us."
"Are you kidding?" Mouse lifted her head and glared at him. "When
Ultimate Ninja gets back and finds out about this, she'll be better off
disappeared!"
"Not if you find out who the real culprit is and pin all the blame on
them," Pulls-Paper-Out-Of-Hats Lad pointed out.
Mouse drummed her fingers on the table thoughtfully. "Good point." She
gave him a toothy grin. "And if that fails, I can always blame the
person who drew her name out of the hat!"
"Argh!"
"The first thing we should do," Doctor Stomper interrupted hastily. "Is
try to get some sort of surveillance on Writer's Block Woman. Mouse, is
there any way we can catch up to her?"
"Catch up to Writer's Block Woman?? While she's SHOPPING??? Are you
KIDDING?!!"
**
Mouse gave it her best shot anyway, using all of her skills and training
and the resources of the small part of the LNH that was not joining in
the great spend-up, but she was no match for WBW's shopping-fu. After
spending all day fighting through one screaming chaos of shopping frenzy
after another (how did her mother manage to find all these disaster
areas anyway? If Mouse didn't know better she would have sworn that WBW
was using her powers to cause all this trouble, but, no, they didn't
work that way. This was just finely honed shopping skills and infective
enthusiasm), Mouse was finally able to catch a glimpse of the shopaholic
superheroine as she moved on to her next big purchase.
"Oh my, what a lovely dress! And it's on sale!"
"HOLD EVERYTHING!" Mouse yelled. "Mum! You... argh! Get... out... of
my... WAY!" she snarled as she elbowed aside shoppers. Finally she made
it to Writer's Block Woman, who was triumphantly holding a demure off
the shoulder dress in cream and lemon that she had just managed to claim
(and without tearing it!) -- but an alliance of other shoppers was
forming just a short distance away and Writer's Block Woman would have
to have to be on her guard.
"Well, no, actually she won't," sighed Mouse to herself as she checked
her watch again. "Mum! It's almost midnight! "
"That's okay, I'm pretty sure the dress won't turn back into a pumpkin."
"That's the carriage not the dress and... WRONG STORY! I'm trying to
tell you that it's almost midnight and..."
Writer's Block Woman gasped. "Oh my goodness! It's almost midnight!"
"Yeah and..."
"It's a one-day only sale! The prices won't be discounted tomorrow!
Quick, to the cash registers!" WBW cried.
"No, Mum!" Mouse called futilely. "At midnight the LNH leader
disappears! Ah. Well, I can see that you've discovered that for
yourself," she muttered sotto voce as Writer's Block Woman abruptly
vanished.
Oh well, it was probably for the best, thought Mouse. At least the LNH
was saved from complete financial ruin. And her mother couldn't possibly
get into any more trouble if she was missing.
Then a nasty thought struck Mouse: but what if she was now getting into
trouble wherever it was that the leaders were going?
"Okay ma'am, we've finished ringing up all your purchases. How will you
be pay... hey, where did she go?"
Mouse looked up at the group of irate shop assistants closing in on her
position and turned to run. Unfortunately it was at this point that the
group that had been lusting after WBW's intended purchase suddenly
realised that the dress was now up for grabs.
"I heard that girl call her 'Mum'!"
"That dress is OURS!!!"
Mouse looked up and went, "Arghh!" as the scrum closed in.
**
Character Credits:
Innovative-Offense Boy created by uplink.
Sarcastic Lad created by Gary St. Lawrence.
Dr. Stomper created by T. M. Neeck.
Fourth Wall Lass created by Saxon Brenton.
Limp-Asparagus Lad owned by Saxon Brenton. Created by Mystic Mongoose
and wReam.
Pulls-Paper-Out-Of-Hats Lad created by Arthur Spitzer.
Fuzzy created by Connie Hirsh.
Writer's Block Woman, Mouse, and Drabble Girl created by Jaelle.
From: "Tarq" <mitchel... at caladrius.com.au>
Subject: LNH: LNH Comics Presents... #46: INFINITE LEADERSHIP CRY.SIG #11
Date: Wed, 11 Apr 2007 06:15:06 +0000 (UTC)
Politically Correct Person looked at his watch. He was, as usual,
right on time. And, as was all too often the case, no one else saw fit
to follow his example. The Legion of Net.Heroes had become a festering
cesspool of indifference, but thankfully the current leadership
dilemma had woken a few people up. As he made himself comfortable
more LNHers drifted in, and finally the room was full. The
increasingly unpopular Pulls-Paper-Out-Of-Hats Lad took centre stage.
Or, actually, 'center' stage, as they're in the Loonited States.
Anyway, anyway, where were we, Pulls-Paper-Out-Of-Hats Lad, yadda
yadda...
The Legionnaire reached deeply into his hat, and pulled out a
small slip of paper. Everyone knew that the name that was on this
sheet of paper would be the name of their new leader. The leader that
would disappear tonight at midnight. And, if Politically Correct
Person was lucky enough, the leader that would shape the disgustingly
inappropriate Legion up.
Loudly enough for everyone present to hear, Pulls-Paper-Out-Of-
Hats Lad announced, "Politically Correct Person!"
All eyes turned to their new leader to hear what he had to say.
"Oh. Oh, bother."
*~_/|\_/= ILC : PCP =\_/|\_~*
LNH COMICS PRESENTS #46
INFINITE LEADERSHIP CRY.SIG
Day 11: Politically Correct Person
by Mitchell 'Tarq' Crouch
*~_/|\_/= ILC : PCP =\_/|\_~*
As the various LNHers dissipated to go and wreak havoc in their
own personal, lonely, mixed up ways, Politically Correct Person's
comm.thingee started beeping at him. He flipped it up to a comfortable
distance from his head, allowing him to hear whate'er the person at
the other end might say and likewise to be heard should he respond. It
really was very convenient.
"Hey, Politically Correct Person, it's Multi-Tasking Man here. I
just thought I should let you know, seeing as how you're, y'know, the
leader and everything, that we got a call from downtown Net.tropolis.
Something's turning people into Turtles of Apocalyptic Proportions.
Again."
"Don't hurt them," PC Person snapped. "Send someone who knows how
to talk to turtles, and get them to persuade them to-- wait. Are you
sure they're not tortoises?"
There was a pause on the other end for a moment. "Uuh... no. Does
it matter?"
"Of course it matters! We're meant to be the good guys, Multi-
Tasking Man. We can't just go around calling tortoises turtles. Think
of how offended you would be if someone called you a chimpanzee. Or an
orang-utan."
"Yes yes yes," MTM replied hurriedly. "But that doesn't really
matter -- at all -- right now, does it? We have Turtles -- or
tortoises -- of Apocalyptic Proportions rampaging through the city.
It's an emergency of apocalyptic proportions, Politically Correct
Person! We need a team down there!"
"No, listen, I'm not going to have my Legion running into things
half-prepared, discriminating against tortoises simply because they're
the lesser known of the two most common testudines."
There was a long sigh from the other end. "There are both turtles
and tortoises. Happy? Now tell us what to do!"
"Multi-Tasking Man, are you- are you lying to me? Lying about
whether these turtles are, in fact, actually, indeed, turtles rather
than tortoises?"
"What did you say before, something about a team, speaking to the
turtles...?"
"Are you listening to me at all? You can't just call them turtles
when they could very well be any one of various shelled creatures. My
goodness, they could even be snails for all you care, couldn't they?"
"...so I'll send Linguist Lass, but Occultism Kid is probably a bit
preoccupied, so just for you I'll get Obscure Trivia Lad so as to
identify them one way or another..."
"Terrapins!" exclaimed an annoyed Politically Correct Person.
"Have you even considered that they could be terrapins?"
But as fate, or luck (or even just Multi-Tasking Man) would have
it, he was talking to a dead comm.thingee.
*~_/|\_/= ILC : PCP =\_/|\_~*
"Damn it, PC Person!"
Politically Correct Person's eyes dashed upwards to view Master
Blaster as he stormed into the leaders room. "You know," he said
dangerously, "that it is impolite to shorten a persons name to an
acronym, do you not? And that we don't say 'damn', but rather 'darn',
so as to avoid offending those of particular faiths?"
Master Blaster snorted. "You bet I know. Why else do you think
I'd say it?"
"Is there an actual reason you're here?"
"Yep. It has something to do with the note I found tacked to my
door that informed me that as of today, the Legion of Net.Heroes has
been renamed 'the Fellowship of Various Equally Important Characters'.
As well as a list of LNHers who have all had mandatory name and
costume changes. Including but not limited to myself."
Politically Correct Person went back to his paperwork. "Do you
have a problem with that, Person With Gun?"
The newly dubbed Person With Gun, formerly known as Master
Blaster, scowled. "You bet I do! And what is with _this_?!" He
gestured angrily at the tight yellow, red and black spandex that he
was wearing. On the front was the new Fellowship of Various Equally
Important Characters logo, and on the back was 'PERSON WITH GUN',
accompanied by a two-digit number. "It's like a jock jacket, but
tighter!"
"Of course. As part of my team, I'm responsible for you. How am I
meant to be able to keep track of you if you don't stand out in a
crowd?"
"So this is all part of your grand scheme to make us all family
friendly, huh? To get a G rating for the legion?"
"How are we meant to enforce laws and good behaviour if we don't
exhibit it ourselves?"
"Well, not slipping our best friends into spandex pouches would
be a good start, wouldn't it?"
Politically Correct Person made a point of maintaining eye
contact. "In most circumstances, yes. But it's important to remember
just how much comfort the general public gains from common symbols of
truth, justice, and the Ame.rec.an way, such as spandex. Besides," he
added nonchalantly, "if you'd read the note, you'd know that red
trousers are recommended extras."
Master Blaster scowled and shook his head. "I'm so glad you're
leaving tonight. This," he pointed angrily at his tights, "is frickin'
lame."
*~_/|\_/= ILC : PCP =\_/|\_~*
"Hey, PC Person?"
Politically Correct Person sighed. "Yes, Oft-Chatting Person?"
It took Time-Waster Lad a moment to realise that PC Person was
referring to him by his new 'politically correct' codename. "Why are
you putting up a new sign on the LNHHQ? We all liked the old one." A
few various legionnaires who were standing around behind Time-Waster
Lad watching nodded nostalgically.
"Because it was wrong," came their snappish reply. "We are not a
Legion -- indeed, nor are we a Fellowship -- of _only_ net.heroes, are
we? We have net.heroines, too, you know. Not to mention a variety of
net.ahumans who fit into neither category, and then, of course, there
are the members who aren't even net.ahumans. What would Cauliflower
think if he were here right now to hear you say such things? Really,
do try to have some respect."
The aforementioned various legionnaires nodded and muttered
amongst themselves, and shifted their weight so that they were subtly
closer him. Time-Waster Lad merely nodded thoughtfully. After a moment
of looking like was going to say something but not, he said, "Okay
then. Can I help?"
Politically Correct Person's eyes narrowed as he looked him up
and down. "Of course. Why would I exclude you just because of your
powers? That would be completely unacceptable. Under the new
Fellowship rules that I passed this morning, I would be kicked out of
the Fellowship of Various Equally Important Characters for such an
act. But if you wouldn't mind my asking... why do you want to help?"
"Because," replied Time-Waster Lad with a sly grin on his face,
"it's been far too long since someone else has wasted _my_ time."
Politically Correct Lad passed a hammer to his cohort, determined
not to let his one chance at straightening out the Legion -- or the
Fellowship -- go to waste.
*~_/|\_/= ILC : PCP =\_/|\_~*
Meanwhile, in downtown Net.ropolis, Turtles of Apocalyptic
Proportions roared as only those few special turtles that are, in
fact, of apocalyptic proportions can. In a flight.thingee whizzing
over the top of the carnage, Cannon Fodder, Coward Lad and Kid Recap
chatted casually about the unusual weather that the city had been
receiving lately.
Coward Lad took a short look out the window before shrieking
loudly. "Oh my gosh!" he cried. "Turtles of Apocalyptic Proportions!
Everywhere!"
"Of course," stated Kid Recap. "That's why we were sent out. Due
to expletive graffiti carved, drawn and spray-painted onto several of
the larger flight.thingees, our team was forced to separate into two
three-man vehicles, one of which contained Linguist Lass, Obscure
Trivia Lad, and Bad-Timing Boy. However, that flight.thingee
experienced inexplicable engine troubles, so now we're all that the
Legi- sorry, the Fellowship, has to rely on."
Coward Lad took a short look at Kid Recap before shrieking
loudly. "Oh my gosh!" he cried. "We're several hundred Ame.rec.an
'feet' above the ground! The other flight.thingee malfunctioned, and
ours could too! We could all die!"
Kid Recap shrugged. "Yeah, s'pose. I'm done here anyway. Later,
guys." And with that he grabbed the only parachute and jumped out.
Cannon Fodder, who had been too busy piloting the flight.thingee
to be given any dialogue up till now, checked a small readout. "Says
we're not to hurt the Turtles," he called back to the hysteric Coward
Lad. "Also says we're not to refer to the Turtles of Apocalyptic
Proportions as Turtles of Apocalyptic Proportions, but rather as
Uncommonly Large Shelled Reptilians. We're meant to parlay with them."
"Parlay?!" screamed Coward Lad. "They'll kill us! Destroy us! Eat
our very souls! We can't go down there and talk to them, we can't
just, can't, they, they'll, oh my gosh, oh my gosh,
can'tbreathecan'tbreathecan'tbreatheohmygoshTurtlesofApocalypticProportionsohmygoshohmygoshohmyg-"
Rolling his eyes, Cannon Fodder activated his comm.thingee.
"Multi-Tasking Man? Are you there? It's Cannon Fodder, over."
"Yep, I can hear you loud and clear, Fodder. Wazzup?"
"Can you tell Politically Correct Person that Coward Lad has gone
into hysterics and is refusing to refer to the Tur- ah, Uncommonly
Large Shelled Reptilians as Uncommonly Large Shelled Reptilians?"
"Uuuh... sure. Any reason you want to bother him with this itsy
bitsy detail?"
"Yeah. Coward Lad is climbing up my water spout, and I want to
get him transmatted away."
"I'll see what can be done." There was a short pause, which was
followed, as most pauses are, by something other than a pause. For if
a pause should be followed by a second pause, or even a third or
fourth or however many pauses (say it out loud... heh heh heh...
politically correct indeed...), it is not a second pause, third pause,
fourth pause, or whatever-ordinal-number-you-want-to-use pause, but
rather just a notably longer pause. However, this is completely
irrelevant to our current situation, as the pause was not followed by
a pause, but by Multi-Tasking Man saying, "Yeah, you can consider him
gone..."
And with that, Coward Lad was gone. Cannon Fodder breathed a sigh
of relief. "Thanks, MTM."
A third voice on the other end interrupted, "Don't you know it's
rude to shorten a persons name to an acronym?!"
"...but the boss wants to come along with you. To, y'know, make
sure things don't get 'out of hand'. Or whatever."
Cannon Fodder squeezed his eyes shut and swore. When he opened
them again, Politically Correct Person was sitting next to him,
glaring intently. ( Great )Oo. he thought. .oO( Just great. I still
have five more hours of putting up with this joker. )
*~_/|\_/= ILC : PCP =\_/|\_~*
Cannon Fodder put the flight.thingee down with practiced ease a
fair distance from the rampaging Uncommonly Large Shelled Reptilians,
and the two of them made their way through crowds of panicking
civilians and building debris to come face to face with their first
Uncommonly Large Shelled Reptilian.
"Aha!" cried Politically Correct Person. "Look at those feet, eh?
I knew they could be tortoises! And now I can say, certainly, that
they are Uncommonly Large Tortoises. Now we need only establish
contact with them!"
Looking the colossal creature up and down, Cannon Fodder asked,
"How exactly are we going to do that? In case you didn't notice, its
head is all way up there, and we, on the other hand, are all the way
down here. I find it incredibly unlikely that it will be able to hear,
never mind understand, us."
Politically Correct Person considered this for a mo. "Go get back
in the flight.thingee. I'll wait down here, and you can race up to its
head and try to get it to pay attention to me. Okay?"
"Why don't I just use the incredibly large and underutilized
speakers in the flight.thingee to talk to it up there?"
"Because," said Politically Correct Person, somewhat
exasperatedly, "it would be impolite to yell at it through a machine,
particularly one most commonly used for offensive doof-doof music. It
would be far better off if we could just get it to acknowledge my
presence here."
Cannon Fodder rolled his eyes, and began to make his way back to
the inconveniently parked flight.thingee. "Whatever you say, O Revered
Leader," he muttered.
*~_/|\_/= ILC : PCP =\_/|\_~*
A few hours later, the Uncommonly Large Tortoise had made its way
through a couple blocks, with Politically Correct Person running
beside it, dodging debris and still trying to get its attention. In
the flight.thingee overhead, Cannon Fodder was having no better luck.
The flight.thingee was barely even as long as the Tortoises nostril
hairs were round, which is saying something when you consider that the
Tortoise didn't even have nostril hairs. But if it did, they would
surely be larger than the flight.thingee.
PC Person's comm.thingee beeped, and, being the gentlemanly
gentleman that he was, he answered.
"Hello?"
"Hey, boss, it's Cannon Fod- I mean, 'Person With An Uncommon
Tendency To Die And Come Back Again Who Isn't Jesus'. Y'know, I don't
think we're getting anywhere with this. The flight.thingee isn't even
as long as the Tortoises nostril hairs are round, and that's saying
somethin', 'coz I'm not even sure this goliath _has_ nostril hairs.
But hey, if it does, they're bigger than the flight.thingee."
Politically Correct Person considered this as he jogged along
beside the slow-for-its-size-but-still-fast-enough Tortoise. He _did_
have other things that needed doing. But how to take care of the
Uncommonly Large Tortoises?
Distracted by his thoughts, he stepped on a loose something or
other and tripped, landing flat on his face, and rather conveniently
knocking himself out. I should probably end this with an ellipsis,
just for dramatic effect...
*~_/|\_/= ILC : PCP =\_/|\_~*
When he came to a couple of hours later, the first Tortoise had
gotten away. However, a second (or third, or fourth, or however many
had roamed past) had come and taken its place nearby.
Politically Correct Person sat up groggily, rubbing his sore
face. Leaning down to see what he had tripped on, he picked up a small
turtle-shaped remote control, on which there were two buttons. One was
labelled 'Turn people into Turtles of Apocalyptic Proportions'. The
other said 'Turn Turtles of Apocalyptic Proportions into just normal
sized turtles because I couldn't quite get the settings right to turn
them back into people'.
After a moments incredulity, PC Person grabbed his comm.thingee
and called Cannon Fodder.
"Person With An Uncommon Tendency To Die And Come Back Again Who
Isn't Jesus? Person With An Uncommon Tendency To Die And Come Back
Again Who Isn't Jesus? Are you still there?"
"Uuuh... sure."
"Great. Listen, I think I've found a way to halt the impending
tortoisey doom. Would you mind zooming down here for a bit so I can be
airlifted to safety in case something goes wrong?"
"Something like 'have you checked the time?'"
Politically Correct Person froze. He hadn't even bothered to
check the time after waking up. Had being unconscious prevented him
from disappearing somehow? He grabbed his watch and pressed the
backlight button desperately. It read 11:57.
He gulped, and spoke back into the comm.thingee, "You know what,
Person With An Uncommon Tendency To Die And Come Back Again Who Isn't
Jesus? It would be really, really swell, if you could get here right
now, pretty pretty please."
"I'm onto it, boss."
Two and a half minutes later, Politically Correct Person could
see the flight.thingee tearing towards him. ( Well, )Oo. he
thought, .oO( Here goes nothing... )
He was just about to hit the button when he turned around in time
to witness a giant Tortoise foot coming down and about to squish him
into a hundred tiny pieces. He could feel the rough skin pressing down
on him, lowering him to the ground.
"Oh, f-!" [*]
And then he was gone.
[* = "Oh, for crying out loud!", of course... - Footnote Girl]
*~_/|\_/= ILC : PCP =\_/|\_~*
Cannon Fodder's eyes widened. He looked desperately at the clock.
Had PC Person disappeared in time? Had whomsoever had been kidnapping
their leaders actually saved him? Or had he been mashed under the
giant leathery foot of an Uncommonly Large Tortoise, nee Turtle of
Apocalyptic Proportions?
He set the flight.thingee down next to the massive foot as it
left the ground, and raced over to where, just moments before,
Politically Correct Person had been.
He found no corpse, but a small remote control. Intrigued, he hit
the button.
All over the grand city of Net.ropolis, there was loud
'shwoomp!'s as giant tortoises shrunk to usual tortoise size, and then
fell to the ground. Civilians stuck their heads out of buildings,
cheering and clapping and celebrating their survival. "Can-non Fod-
der! Can-non Fod-der!" they cheered, unaware that anything in the
Legion had changed since Ultimate Ninja had left or even, indeed, that
Ultimate Ninja had ever left the building.
Overwhelmed, Cannon Fodder raised his hands into the air
victoriously. The crowd screamed and applauded. This was the first
time in a long time that he'd ever actually survived to the end of a
mission. That he was recognized as a hero. It felt goooood.
Then a normal-size tortoise shell fell from the sky, smashing his
skull and killing him instantly.
The citizens of Net.ropolis went quiet. After a moment, one
grunted, "Eh well."
With similar statements and various sounds of disappointment or
indifference, they went back to bed.
*~_/|\_/= ILC : PCP =\_/|\_~*
CREDITS
Cannon Fodder created by wReam
Coward Lad was created by Tom Russell and Cory Smith
Kid Recap was created by Josh Geurink
Linguist Lass also created by Martin Phipps
Master Blaster created by Martin Phipps
Multi-Tasking Man was created by Jeff Coleburn
Obscure Trivia Lad created by Brian Perler
Pulls-Paper-Out-Of-Hats Lad is Arthur Spitzer's, as is Cauliflower
(duh)
Time-Waster Lad was created by Ray Rich
and Ultimate Ninja was, obviously, created by wReam, too.
==========
Next Week: More leaders! More disappearing -- Part VII!
==========
Arthur "Same Classic Channel. But Same Time? Probably not." Spitzer
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