LNH/NTB: Classic LNH Adventures #191: Beige Midnight Part Twenty-Seven

Arthur Spitzer arspitzer2 at gmail.com
Sun Mar 7 13:20:33 PST 2021

LNH/NTB:  Classic LNH Adventures #191: Beige Midnight Part Twenty-Seven

You can sift through the racc list archive
or you can try google groups racc for the twenty-sixth part of Beige Midnight.

Here's the first third of issue #8 -- PLANET
MUHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHH!!!!!!!!!! 'Mite Lite of the Gods' by me (Arthur Spitzer)
It's thousands of heroes vs millions of villains!  But who can stop Mynabird?
Perhaps a certain LNH sub-group called LNH-Subgroup-Designed-to-be-Mowed-Down-by-
Mynabird-to-Show-What-an-Incredible-Bad-Ass-He-Is?  Well, okay, probably not them.


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

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

                                    ADVENTURES #191

                   Beige Midnight Part Twenty-Seven

[Cover:  Two tsunami size waves made of superheroes and supervillains 
come from opposite sides to crash into each other. 
Boy stands in the middle and says in a dialogue balloon, "Oh 

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

The place -- A Helicopter above Net.ropolis

The time --

                    B     E     I     G     E

           M     I     D     N     I     G     H     T

The number --         N     I     N     E

The Writers -- Arthur Spitzer, Saxon Brenton, and Mynabird!

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

April 2008 --

High Above the LNHHQ's front lawn --

This was very difficult, thought Building Suspense Lad as he was hanging 
with just one hand on a helicopter landing skid.  And it wasn't helping 
that his arch-enemy Dr. Get-On-With-the-Damn-Story was trying to stomp 
his fingers.  And there seemed to be a beige tarantula (actually pink) 
crawling up his leg.

He wasn't quite sure why he had grabbed onto the helicopter.  Perhaps he 
had hoped to beat Dr. Get-On-With-the-Damn-Story, Kaiser Krowd Zene (who 
was teaming up with him at the moment), and a bunch of military guys 
with thick German accents that were manning the helicopter and take it 
down.  But that plan hadn't exactly gone very well.

And now the strain of his fingers was becoming a little too much.  And 
gravity's hold was becoming overwhelming.  He could hear Kaiser Krowd 
Zene shouting something over the noise of the helicopter.  Something 
about landing the helicopter so that they could kick 
Boy's ass (or Vick hist Vozz).  But Dr. Get-On-With-the-Damn-Story would 
have none of that.  He kept shouting, "Get on with the damn story!!" 
over and over again while he tried to stomp Building Suspense Lad's fingers.

And Building Suspense Lad looked down and around him at the battle of 
all battles taking shape.  He could see an out of control Looniversal 
Answering Machine flinging Kirbybots at the Beige Clock Tower and 
cackling in delight as they burst into dust.  He saw Turtles of 
Apocalyptic Proportions battling Zeppelins made of Cheeez, Spham, and 
other humorously named food.  There were three RACCelestials just 
hovering above it all and just watching -- and occasionally muching on a 
big bowl of popcorn they had.  Batwinged Net.zi Kangaroos battled 
Butterfly winged Rabbi Gila Monsters.  Giant Bikini-clad Women (and also 
a dragon wearing purple underpants by the name of -- FIN FANFIC FOOM!) 
were playing a very destructive game of volleyball over the skyscrapers 
of Net.ropolis.  Building Suspense Lad watched the Pister Maprika 
Building fall down as a gigantic volleyball slammed into it.

And up in the sky -- beyond the haze of insects that made up Dekay's 
head, he saw what looked like a wolf trying to devour the Sun.  And 
in-between it, two stick figures (one male -- one female) making snarky 
comments about it all.

Dr. Get-On-With-the-Damn-Story continued to scream, "Get on with the 
damn story!!"  Another one of Building Suspense Lad's fingers slipped. 
He was down to two.  Building Suspense Lad gritted his teeth.  The agony 
was almost unbearable.  He looked down at the front lawn of the LNHHQ. 
There were hundreds of superheroes battling what appeared to be millions 
of supervillains.  And he could see the leader of these villains, 
Mynabird, mowing down various heroes as he made his way towards 
Easily-Discovered Man Lite.  Nothing could stop him.

He looked at his last two fingers.  Each hanging on for dear life.  It 
reminded him of something that had happened to him when he was child. 
He was eight years old and hanging onto the monkey bars for dear life. 
And just when it seemed like he couldn't hold on forever, his eight year 
old self had a flashback involving his three year old self and...

Dr. Get-On-With-the-Damn-Story slammed his foot down on one of Building 
Suspense Lad's remaining fingers.

And now Building Suspense was down to one finger.  One finger.  And he 
could feel that one starting to slip too.  And in some way he was 
relieved.  He could finally let go.  Let it all go.

And as he watched his last finger give up, he realized that there was 
only one thing standing between him and the ground below.

And that thing was...

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

               PLANET MUHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHH!!!!!!!!!!
                             PART II

                      'Mite-Lite of the Gods'

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

LNHHQ Sub-Sub Basement 58.5 --

And then -- there was a calmness.  The room stopped shaking.

Occultism Kid looked at the half page that was coming out of the Book of 
Deus ex Machinas.  The Spell of Spells.  Surrounding him were four 
circles made up of 57.5 trenchcoaters.  And there was something else in 
the room.  Something that was playing with the jukebox.  The same thing 
that had been shaking the room.

But whatever it was it had calmed down.  The song 'Another One Bites the 
Dust' by Queen continued to play on the jukebox.  Occultism Kid looked 
down at the shards of the Cosmic Plot Device.  Time to put that 
together, he guessed.  And then the lights went out.  And then came on 
again.  And then off and on again.  Apparently, the force in the room 
with them had decided to play with the light switch.  It was annoying, 
but he could deal with that.

He fitted each piece till the cracks between began to mold together. 
And a glow began to emit from the device.  He could feel it start to 
flow like a liquid in zero gravity.  A gold jeweled liquid with all 
kinds of power.  It wanted him to form it into some type of object. 
Occultism Kid decided an amulet form would suffice and hung the object 
around his neck.  He could feel a rush of power start to charge into 
him.  And then he heard a song in his head.  The Cosmic Plot Device was 
trying to speak to him.  Give him suggestions.  It didn't like all of 
these trenchcoaters that were surrounding it and him.  That would 
probably be because the circles of trenchcoaters were dampening its 
power and absorbing most of its corruption abilities.

The Cosmic Plot Device began to make a case to Occultism Kid for putting 
on the Insanity Gauntlet and using the combined power to kill all of the 
trenchcoaters.  Only then would Occultism Kid have the power to slay the 
Bryttles and restore the Looniverse back to its former self.  And 
according to the device, he only had a short window of time to do this 
before the Bryttles became even more powerful than all of the magical 
devices in this room.

Occultism Kid actually considered this for a few seconds.  What if the 
Cosmic Plot Device was right?  What if killing everyone in the room was 
the best option.  The only option.

Occultism Kid shook his head.  Not yet.  But it scared the hell out of 
him that he might have to do exactly that.

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

The LNHHQ Front Lawn --

I look at my hand.  Red dripping.  Dripping all over.  And I turn my 
head to see my teammates.  My poor doomed teammates.  My poor doomed LNH 
sub group.  Team 

My team.

Over there is the lifeless corpse of 
Comes-up-with-horrible-awful-names-for-LNH-subgroups Lad.  The jokester 
of our group.  I think it might have been a mistake to have him name our 
team.  Yeah -- that was a bad idea.

And over there, 
Man.  The hothead of our group.  He was so angry at the world.  Angry at 
a world that hates superheroes with incredibly long names.  May he find 
peace in the afterlife.

And sweet -- sweet 
Lass (or Herdy as she liked us to call her).  Sweet, sweet Herdy.  The 
female of our group.  I wish I could have told -- told you how much -- 
how much I loved you.  And now -- it's too late.  Much too late.  You're 

And then there's me.  The man who led this group to this grave.  Me, the 
team leader -- and token black guy.  Me, Dr. 
Can-Beat-Any-Supervillain-Except-for-Mynabird.  It's all on me.  Why did 
I do this?  Why did I lead them all here?

I grew up in a place called Quick Slide Falls.  Time is so much faster 
there.  It was a place effected by the Slide-Rule of Time.  In Quick 
Slide Falls, 40 years has passed since Mynabird formed the Legion of 
Net.Villains as opposed to the only one year or so in the rest of the 
world.  And because of that the legend of Mynabird is even greater there.

As a kid I was always good at almost everything.  I always got straight 
A's.  Tons of sports trophies and blue ribbons for science projects. 
But in spite of all that, it seemed like everyone was always telling me 
there was one thing I couldn't do.  One thing that I would never do.  I 
couldn't beat Mynabird.  No matter how many medals, trophies, doctorates 
I managed to get -- they'd always tell I couldn't beat Mynabird.  Every 
teacher, every coach, every priest, every professor, every politician. 
Even my first girlfriend told me right after we had sex for the first 
time that it was the best most amazing orgasm she had ever had -- but 
that I couldn't beat Mynabird.

Even my Mother, my dear sweet Mama who loved me more than anything -- I 
remember these words she said after I had graduated from college at the 
age of 16.  She gave me a big hug and said this with tears streaming 
from her eyes.  "Honey, I'm so proud of you.  I'm so proud.  And I want 
you to remember this.  Don't let anyone -- and I mean anyone tell you, 
you can't do anything you set your mind too.  Don't let anyone!" she 
said pointing her finger straight at me.  "Because if you work hard 
there's nothing you can't accomplish.  Nothing!  You can do it all, 
child.  You can do it all.  Well, except for beating Mynabird of course. 
  You can't do that.  That boy's too much of a badass.  But everything 
else of course."

And I probably should have listened to her.  But I didn't.  I vowed on 
that day that I would beat Mynabird.  I devoted all of my abilities and 
energy to that goal.  I recruited like minded people and formed my own 
LNH subgroup.  And we trained and trained.  For this day.

And that's how we all ended up here.  That's how they all died.  And now 
I'm dying.  I can hear Mynabird's suit stomping over here.  His shadow 
hovering over me.  Maybe just maybe -- there's still a chance.  A chance 
to beat him.  I go for my gun.  And I point it and -- *click*.  *Click*. 
  Out of bullets.

And I can see Mynabird looking down at me.  And he says something -- 
something to me.  "You can't beat me."  And I want to laugh, but it's 
too painful.

I could have accomplished anything.  Cured cancer.  Made cheap clean 
energy to run the world.  Taken down any other supervillain.  But no.  I 
had to fight Mynabird.

I see a crackle start to emit from Mynabird's hand.  Only time for one 
more thought.

Probably should have taken down the Bryttles first.

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

Mr. Homage watched various members of the LNH and Mynabird's Legion of 
Net.Freedom Lovers smacking the hell out of each other.  There was no 
point in getting in the middle of this just yet, thought Homage as he 
slid his armored fingers along the edge of the Confederate saber he was 
holding.  Still, maybe he could pick off some of the lesser heroes.  He 
scanned over the battlefield looking for easy kills and spotted some 
young hero wielding a plastic spatula who was busy dodging various 
villain attacks.

It was him, wasn't it?  The gnat that had started this hurricane.  What 
was it?  Easily-Discovered Man Brite?  Lite.  Yes, Lite that sounded 
right.  Mynabird had created this vast supervillain army so he could 
destroy this pathetic sidekick?  That was rich!  And a plan began to 
form in Homage's mind.

Why not just kill this Lite himself?  He had a feeling that the LNFL was 
probably going to lose this battle anyways and that there was going to 
be a change in leadership after that happened.  If he killed Lite he 
would not only rob Mynabird of his revenge, but also show the rest that 
he could do something Mynabird had failed repeatedly to do.  Kill 
Easily-Discovered Man Lite.  They'd have to make him leader.

And then he could mold this team into something more useful.  Get rid of 
the deadweight.  He could then split up the team and place his most 
loyal lieutenants in charge of each section.  They would be all across 
the world.  He could just see it:  A Brotherhood of Net.Villains in 
Europe, Asia, Africa, South America, Alt.stralia.  Everywhere.  He could 
run all of the organized crime in every country.  And then use the 
capital to buy stock in various corporations and make even more money. 
Money to bribe any politician.  That's how you rule the world.  And he'd 
have no problem with the LNH.  They could continue battling space aliens 
and cosmic menaces -- saving the world.  He had no problem with that.

Of course various other villains would probably oppose him.  He'd have 
to get rid of them.  Lagneto -- definitely.

But first things first.  Get rid of Easily-Discovered Man Lite.  Sorry, 
Lite -- I have nothing against you.  This is just a business decision, 
thought Homage smiling to himself.

That's all.

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

"'ey right!  Let's smash some 'eads!" said a punkish looking man wearing 
a white wedding dress.  His hair was thoroughly peroxided.  "Let's give 
some They Might Be Giant inspired 'ero gits a right good pasting!" he 
said smashing a bottle of gin against a wall.  And then he looked at one 
of his mates, a man who seemed to have eyes, but no face.  "'E's not 
coming.  'E never comes."

The Eyes without a face turned his peroxide haired head.  "I just 'ave 
this feeling.  And it's strong."

Another man with peroxided hair who seemed to be dancing with himself 
sneered with disgust.  "'E 'oo lives in 'is own 'eaven and collects it 
to go from seven eleven 'as made 'is choice."

And the rest nodded their peroxide haired heads.  The rest being a man 
made of both flesh and fantasy, a man that once you saw him you couldn't 
forget about him.  And a woman covered with the word's 'Mony, Mony' all 
over her clothes.  Together they formed the punk supervillain band 
called Billy's Idolaters.

"Wait!" said Eyes without a Face still scanning the battlefield. 
"There!  Do you see 'im?  That armored bloke over with the sword?"

"What about 'im?" said Dancing-with-Myself sinking another drink.

"Oh wait!" shouted Mony-Mony Cover Girl.  "It's a Civil War sword!  A 
confederate one at that!"

"Wait, you're not saying..." said White Wedding Lad.

"Yes," said Eyes without a Face.  "Only one person alive would wield 
such a sword into battle.  There for that means that Mr. 'omage is 

And they shouted together, "REBEL YELL!!!!!"

"Let's thrash that 'eretic!!!!"

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

As Mr. Homage made his way over towards Easily-Discovered Man Lite to 
destroy him once and for all, he felt something hit him.  That something 
being an electric guitar.

"What the..." said Homage turning his head only to find himself faced 
with a peroxide haired fury pounding the living hell out of him.  Why in 
the world were these punks attacking him?

The woman with the word Mony scrawled all over her clothes began crying, 
"More!  More!  More!"

"'Ey take that you blasphemer of The Billy!!" shouted the punk in the 
white wedding dress.

"Rebel Yell!" said Eyes without a Face clutching a bottle of peroxide. 
"Long 'ave you scorned our ways.  But no more.  'Old 'im down!!  Time 
for your 'air to feel -- The Peroxide of Truth!!"

"You idiots!!"  Mr. Homage hurled the remaining Billy's Idolaters that 
were still hanging on him and ripped off his face mask.  "I am not Rebel 
Yell.  I have never been Rebel Yell!!  My name is Robbing Lie-fild!! 
Robbing Lie-fild!!!!  See!?"  [As revealed in Continuity Champ & The 
Drizzt's Defenders #22 -- Footnote Girl]

"Seriously?" asked Kid Don't-You-(Forget About Me).

"Yes!!  Seriously!!!"

"Wow, that was rather disappointing," said Eyes without a Face.  "Oh, 
sod this.  Let's go steal some more electric guitars and peroxide!!" 
And with that Billy's Idolaters rushed off into the day crying, 

Mr. Homage shook his head, put his face mask back on, and dusted himself 
off.  "Right.  Where was I?  Ah, yes.  Killing Easily-Discovered Man 
Lite.  Now where did he..."  But right before he could spot Lite a 
gigantic volleyball the size of a house fell onto him.

Easily-Discovered Man Lite strolled by the utterly crushed Mr. Homage. 
"Cool sword."

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

The Ultimate Ninja felt out of breath.  That shouldn't be happening.  He 
was never out of breath.  In the last ten minutes or so he had only 
managed to slaughter a mere 99 evil alternate LNH teams.  Teams made up 
of 400 to 500 or so members.  That was what -- only 49,000 or so?  He 
shouldn't be this tired.

Was it old age?  Was the Beige Clocktower sapping all of his power?  He 
didn't know.  All he knew was he could really use a break.  The Ultimate 
Ninja thought about all these evil LNH's he had massacred.  The evil LNH 
where everyone had Hitler mustaches.  The evil LNH where everyone was an 
insurance salesman.  The Legion of Net.Hurters.  The Legion of 
Net.Hooligans.  The Legion of Non.Heroes.  The Legion of Nun.Hustlers. 
And the evil LNH where everyone was an evil Pro-Wrestling Mime.  And 
countless others.

And then the Ultimate Ninja felt a shadow descend over him.  "So, 
Ultimate Ninja.  Done with the appetizers?  Ready for the main course?"

There was only one person who could say such a cheesy and inane bit of 
dialogue.  The Ultimate Ninja turned his head to see a giant RoboMAC. 
"wReamicus Maximus!"

"Actually it's wReamicus MaxiTRON now.  Like my new look?"  wReamicus 
MaxiTRON's left hand transformed into a chainsaw and his right hand into 
a rocket launcher.  "Pretty sweet -- huh?  I can also change into a 
helicopter, space shuttle, tank, Volkswagen, zamboni, and a Jacuzzi!"

"How about a coffin?" said the Ultimate Ninja whipping out his Ginsu Katana.

"Nah, I think I'll just put your severed head behind a display case in 
some museum celebrating my greatness and sell the rest for pet food.  A 
coffin won't be necessary."

The Ultimate Ninja yawned.

"Oh, I know I've failed to destroy you countless times, but this time 
it's different."

"Yeah?  How?"

"Because I am now in this perfect form.  You see all of those other 
times I was in a flawed human form -- too flawed for one such as Dave to 
respect.  That was why I always lost."

"Really?  It wasn't because you were a complete moron?"

wReamicus MaxiTRON laughed.  "But now I have achieved a form even Dave 
cannot resist loving.  This RoboMAC form.  And now he shall lead me in 
victory against you and help me conquer the Looniverse so I can spread 
the word of Dave to every galaxy -- to every planet.  Even as we speak, 
a team of my devoted acolytes are heading to LNHHQ sub-sub basement 
#58.5 to acquire the Cosmic Plot Device, Ring of Retconn, Insanity 
Gauntlet, and anything else of value."

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

LNHHQ Sub-sub Basement #48 --

"No, I'm pretty sure it was #55.8," said Wally the Church of the Dvandom 
Acolyte looking at a map.

"I'm telling you it was 85.5!  I have a perfect memory for these 
things!" said Lyle the Church of the Dvandom Acolyte stomping through 
some swampy water.

"You know -- I'm beginning to think we should have wrote that number 
down.  Say -- what's that thing over there?" said Newt the Church of the 
Dvandom Acolyte.

"It looks like some giant half scorpion/octopus creature!" said Max the 
Church of the Dvandom Acolyte.

A tentacle shot out and dragged Wally into the darkness.  Various 
horrible screams followed.

"A man eating giant half scorpion/octopus creature," said Max.

"And map eating also," said Lyle.

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

"So, Ultimate Ninja.  Are you ready -- for this our final battle?"

The Ultimate Ninja gazed straight into the eyes of the robotic hulk that 
was wReamicus Maxitron and gave a nod.

"So be it.  May the best RoboMAC win," said wReamicus Maximus with a 
smirk on his face as he raised his chainsaw hand.

5 seconds later...

The severed head of wReamicus Maxitron watched as the Ultimate Ninja 
somersaulted over his RoboMAC body and onto slaughtering even more evil 
alternate LNHes.

Finally wReamicus Maxitron's severed head looked slightly up towards the 
Fourth Wall.  "Ah, Dave.  You're a hard deity to please."

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

Twitter zoomed in to confront an average looking man dressed in casual 
clothes rather than a costume.  "Hi! I'm Twitter! I'm here to beat the 
crap out of you. Apart from that, how's your day going?"

Her opponent smiled, as if he didn't have a care in the world.  "Hey, 
it's been great.  I'm 
Guy, by the way."

"That's a bit of a long name," said Twitter, dubiously.

Guy shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets.  "Well, yeah.  But 
it's not like the Legion is in a position to complain about long names, 
is it?  Anyway, let's get on with this.  I'm meeting with my 
not-dead-at-all parents later for lunch.  Because, you know, they love 
me and like to keep in touch."

Parents!  A stab of angst hit Twitter hard in the chest.  She fell to 
her knees and wailed, "My parents don't love meeee!"

And WAADHTDULAATDWHCEPGuy smirked nastily.  Well, that had been easy.

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

Sub-sub Basement 11 (Switzerland) --

A group of kiwis and oozlefinches were gathered in a room deep under the 
LNHHQ in Sub-sub Basement 11 (or known to everyone else as 
'Switzerland').  It was a neutral place for the various species that 
lived in the LNHHQ to talk to each other.  And now there was a big 
meeting.  A new threat had emerged.

The two representatives of the kiwis and oozlefinches stared at each 
other in a suspicious manner.  On the kiwis side was the wise old 
Statesmen -- J. Random Kiwi.  On the oozlefinches side was the great 
Communicator -- T. Random Oozlefinch.

After a lot of deep staring, the two signed some papers.  Then there was 
some more deep staring.  And eventually, they both shook hands (or wings 
-- or whatever).

At that point, the room erupted in a lot of kiwi sounds and oozlefinch 
sounds.  Toothpicks, Paperclips, and other dangerous objects were wildly 
pointed into the air.

Today they would be allies for there was a greater threat out there.  A 
dangerous evil that if left unchecked might spell doom for both races. 
A creepy crawly menace.  Tarantulas.  Beige tarantulas (They're pink -- 
I tell you!).

Today they would join forces to fight this peril.

But only today.

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

Chuggernaut glanced a bored stare at his Weiner-National-Weiner Dogs and 
gigantic Volleyball bikini clad women as they destroyed Net.ropolis and 
manhandled all the heroes that tried to stop them.  He took another swig 
from his magical beer bottle.

"Are you people pussies!?  Is there not one of you that can stop -- The 
Chuggernaut!!!?" raged the Chuggernaut as he pumped both fists in the air.

And then he felt something hit his head.  Like a brick.  He turned his 
head.  And saw someone that he would definitely like to pound into oblivion.

"Hey, Boozy McBoozer!  How about me?" said 
You're-Not-Hitting-Me-Hard-Enough Lad with a not very sane grin on his face.

"You.  Oh, yeah -- I remember you. [See LNHCP #44 -- Footnote Girl]" 
The Chuggernaut then raised his magical beer bottle high in the sky. 
All of the Weiner-National-Weiner Dogs, gigantic Volleyball bikini clad 
women, and every other Beer Commercial Monstrosity was sucked back into 
the beer bottle.  And the Chuggernaut took another swig.  His fist began 
to crackle with beer commercial energy.  "You want me to hit you?  I can 
do that.  In fact I'm going to hit you so hard that your head is going 
to fly out of the Solar System and your body -- well, that's going to go 
all the way to China."

"Yeah, yeah.  Promises, promises," said 
You're-Not-Hitting-Me-Hard-Enough Lad just standing there with his hands 
gesturing towards his chin.

"Right.  You asked for it."  And Chuggernaut pulled his fist as far as 
it would go back.

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

1945 AD--
The LNHHQ, Net.ropolis --

As the Grin with the Gun, Net.ropolis's Greatest Champion, went over to 
pick up the morning newspaper; he caught a glimpse of some strange man 
in a labcoat that crackled with some blue energy that seemed to erase 
the reality of the world it touched.

"Hey there!" said Boy Lad pulling out his gun.  "Can I help you?"

A wicked smile emerged from the strangers face.  "No, thank you.  I'm 
pretty sure I can destroy the LNH without any aid from you."  The 
stranger than gave a wave as the blue energy caused him to vanish 

"How peculiar!" said a slightly disturbed Boy Lad disappointed because 
he couldn't use his gun.  "Should put those labcoat types in a 
internment camp or something!"  And then he looked at his watch.  "Oh! 
Got to make the trains run on time!"

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****


Dr. Killfile watched time race towards the future in the Killfile Zone. 
  Spring became Summer became Fall became Winter.  Cold War Paranoia 
became Beatniks became Hippies became Disco Dancers became Punk Rockers 
became Break Dancers.


As he came to the 1990s, he slowed the Killfile Zone's ascent to the 
future with a mere flick of the wrist.

1992 --

Here's where his war with the LNH began.  He was so young and stupid 
back then.  He didn't realize his full potential.  And he had paid for 
that stupidity by becoming a vegetable.  He saw a brief flash of Beige 
as he passed the summer of '92.

1993 --

And this was the year he died.

1994 --

And this was the year he was reborn.  And where his plan -- his final 
plan had begun.

1998 -- His glorious return and the beginning of his work.  Placing all 
of the dominoes for their eventual fall.


2000 --

He saw a front page of the Mid.Net Star that had somehow gotten caught 
in his Killfile time field.  The headline read 'George W Bush Wins 
Election!'  There was a brief flicker and the name 'Hex Luthor' replaced 
'George W Bush'.  Killfile ripped the annoying paper from his time field 
and dropped it on 2002.

2006 --

This was the year of a minor setback to his ultimate plan.  But 
ultimately it was a trivial delay.  At this point in time he hadn't yet 
learned his full potential.

But now he could do almost anything with his killfile powers.  With a 
slight gesture of his hands or fingers, time and space were his to 
command.  He could manipulate the bonds of atoms with his killfile 
energy.  He could erase gravity's hold.  He could make the entire 
magnetic field of the Loonivearth disappear if he willed it.  He could 
make himself invisible to all senses.  And he could read anyone's 
thoughts with his killfile energy.  Not that he cared what anyone thought.

He could do anything he wanted with his killfile energy.  But he only 
wanted to do one thing with it.  Just one thing.  End the LNH.  End the 
LNH forever.  That's all he cared about.  Everything else was meaningless.

And as he slowed down the Killfile Zone a bit more, he could feel the 
end.  Somehow he could feel the LNH's end.  And it felt very good.  He 
was getting close to 2012.  The year the LNH would die once and for all 
at his hands.

2007 --

Strange, thought Killfile as he hit the month of April.  This April 
seemed to be going on forever.  Killfile looked at his watch.  Something 
was wrong here.  But before he could investigate it became May, June, 
July -- and everything went back to normal.

Except the Killfile Zone was starting to slow down against his wishes.

2008 --

Killfile willed more power, but it kept slowing down.  And then the 
color of the world drained away -- and everything became beige.

What the hell was wrong?  He wanted to go to 2012 not 2008.  Was it 
possible that there was some force even more powerful than him 
preventing him from getting there?  He would have to investigate this.

As he hit April 2008, he could feel time sliding on the brakes.  Some 
battle was happening.  What was going on here?

And right as he entered the present time stream, he saw something flying 
right at him.

It was a fist.  A big fist.  A really, really big fist.

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

Both the Chuggernaut and You're-Not-Hitting-Me-Hard-Enough Lad watched 
Dr. Killfile hit the ground like a sack of flour soaked in killfile energy.

The Chuggernaut looked at his fist singed by killfile energy.  And then 
he looked at the unconscious form of Dr. Killfile and then he looked at 
You're-Not-Hitting-Me-Hard-Enough Lad.  "Ah, screw this.  Going to find 
myself a bar."  And with that said the Chuggernaut stomped off to find a 

And out of the bushes leaped the binge-drinking dynamo -- Frat Boy! 
"Hah!  Did you see that?  I used my powers to make Chuggernaut's desire 
to drink beer more than his desire to kick your ass.  No need to thank 
me.  Just doing my job."

"Thank you?" said You're-Not-Hitting-Me-Hard-Enough Lad.  "Thank you!!!? 
  I wanted him to hit me.  I wanted that to happen!!!!"

"You're a strange one, YNHMHE Lad."  And then Frat Boy looked at the 
unconscious body crackling with killfile energy.  "Hey, is that Dr. 
Killfile on the ground?  It kind of looks like him."

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

And time and space twisted and cracked as something emerged from the 
sky.  It was Dev-Null the renegade.  One of the three last Qwertians in 
the Looniverse.  The LNH had left him stranded in the past on his long 
dead home world, but fortunately for him he had acquired one of their 
time machines and reworked it to get back to his own present time.  He 
had also reworked it so that it could fly and create a force field 
around him.  As well as blast away at whatever threats there were.

And he took out a bag filled with colorful sparkling dice.  665 LNH 
dice.  "I'm back LNH.  I thought about just going to the Dvorakian 
Empire and wiping them out first, but I should probably be here to 
hammer the final nail in your coffin.  Enjoy!"

He scooped out some dice and started throwing them in the air as he flew 
over the battlefield.  When the last die fell, he took out a device and 
turned it on.  The device emitted a sound wave that caused the dice to 
change back into the various imprisoned god like beings and apocalypse 
beasts that they had been before Bart had changed them.

An apocalypse beast that looked like a cross between a humpback whale, 
hummingbird, and bidet thanked Dev-Null for this act of kindness by 
swallowing him up whole without chewing him.

                      **** <<--BM-->> ****

End of Part I

Next Week:  Beige Midnight Part XXVIII!

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

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