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CBM Family Movie
By Dac
CBM FAMILY
EPISODE XVII
In an evil and poorly planned plot,
Foolsfolly, the dashingly dastardly deviant
Neo-Space terrorist (‘Neo’ used here in a
lazy attempt to make him sound futuristic)
has stolen secret plans to a secret rebel
base, in a secret part of the galaxy. How
he came upon such sensitive and super
secret materials, is a closely guarded secret.
While he looks over said secret plans in a
fairly well-known, easy-to-find, not-so-secret
location, our hero, Puma, the well-endowed
and slightly metrosexual knight of the fairly old,
yet fairly progressive Church of Awesome (AKA
Datanomic), plots a secret plan to retrieve the
secret plans to the secret rebel base for no other
reason than to brag about it, in hopes of possibly
getting laid. Unbeknownst (Is that even a fucking word?)
to Puma, Foolsfolly and the previously unmentioned,
but suddenly retconned Jedipoet, the shit's about to get
pretty fucking crazy, what with all the space battles, lasers,
lazers (the ‘Z’ means they're extra awesome lasers), ray cannons,
beam cannons, beam cannons that shoot rays for some reason,
a leprechaun, werewolf snipers, ten minute alien sex scenes,
decapitations via household appliances, and other crazy shit
that we heard will sell to an American audience on 4th of July
weekends. Did we mention robots? Yup, we got that shit. Get
ready for 3 and a half hours of pure eye rape. ENJOY!
Foolsfolly sat at his table, spreading butter onto two thin slices of bread. There was an art to this buttering of bread. Foolsfolly was notorious for lecturing all of his friends and underlings on the correct way to do it, hence the reason he was making it himself; no one could be bothered doing it for him any more. It wasn’t worth the rant they’d receive for inevitably getting it imperfect. For ten minutes Foolsfolly studied the bread until he was certain he’d spread the butter just right, and then began to spread the peanut butter. This process was even more painstaking, as the peanut butter was of the crunchy variety, and thus more likely to cause problems in the spreading process. After about half an hour of careful deliberation, Foolsfolly finally determined that his peanut butter had been properly spread, and delightfully sat down at the table.
It was at that moment the door exploded.
Abruptly, a lean figure with an ugly five o’clock shadow stormed in – Puma, the hero of space himself. Without even pausing for a breath, Puma launched into an odd spiel.
“I just broke into this heavily guarded space station just to start a fist fight with you to grab the secret plans then figure out some way to get away without getting murdered by 50,000 guards on my way out,” he declared casually.
Foolsfolly looked up from eat his sandwich; the door exploding and spiel had taken a few seconds.
“What the hell?” said the baffled sandwich fanatic, but Puma wasn’t in the mood for answers. In response, he simply withdrew his weapon, the feared Sworgunsword: a sword with a gun built in that shot out smaller swords. Foolsfolly’s eyes narrowed.
“I see,” he growled. “When I got up this morning, I had no idea my lunch would be interrupted by a surprise murder.”
And with that, Foolsfolly pulled out his own weapon, the Gra-nife Launcher: a grenade launcher that shoots knives that explode into a million smaller knives. Puma laughed at it.
“You fool,” he crowed. “My weapon is 10 times more ridiculous, three times bigger, and at least 50 times more deadly!”
“It's not the size,” snarled Foolsfolly. “It's how fast you can get a shot off!”
At this, Puma did pause, a look of confusion on his face. For a few moments, there was silence, until Puma punctuated the odd mood.
“...you know...” he said slowly.
“I know,” said Foolsfolly, sounding embarrassed. “I just realised it when I said it, alright?”
“OK,” said Puma, trying not to giggle. Foolsfolly trembled with rage.
“ON GUARD!”
“HAVE AT YOU!”
The two rushed at each other an began beating each other with their ridiculous weapons, rendered even more ridiculous by the fact that neither of them were actually using them for their intended purposes. Somehow, even lacking oxygen and flammable agents of any kind, the battle was so epic it caused space itself to explode, it was that awesome. The space station’s walls vaporised around them.
“You fool!” bellowed Foolsfolly. “I was still waiting for the insurance on this thing! Why couldn’t you wait three more days before we started doing this?”
To demonstrate just how pissed off he was, Foolsfolly booted Puma in the nuts like a bastard. Like a BASTARD.
“OW, JESUS! IT WAS IN THE SCRIPT, YOU PRICK!”
“FAIR ENOUGH!”
“WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU KICK ME IN THE NUTS? THAT’S JUST NOT CRICKET!”
“I DON’T EVEN LIKE CRICKET!”
“WHAT? THEN WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WATCH ON BOXING DAY?”
“I TAPED THE RUGBY WORLD CUP GRAND FINAL, I FIND IT MUCH MORE ENJOYABLE!”
“RUGBY SUCKS!”
“YOU SUCK!”
It was around this point where a meteor flew out of nowhere and cracked Puma in the head. Understandably he found this troublesome. I mean, come on. What are the odds? A fucking meteor hit him in the goddamn head. But when it did, he was struck unconscious. Upon waking up some matter of hours later, he found Foolsfolly was gone.
“DAMN YOU, YOU BASTARD! I WASN’T DONE SHOUTING AT YOU!”
***
Jedipoet sat in a creepy bar where a number of odd, slightly erotic-looking alien species were drinking various types of alcohol. Jedipoet just sat there, waiting calmly for his contact to arrive. He raised the bottle of antifreeze to his mouth, preparing to take a sip, when suddenly the bottle was hit by a bullet and shattered in his hand.
“Ow! Fuck!”
“Quit bitching, I got you another,” said Don Othing, sliding a new bottle to him as he sat down. “Had to get your attention somehow.”
“You’re a dickhead,” snapped Jedipoet.
“No, I’m Welsh.”
“There’s a difference?”
“Not really.”
Jedipoet slapped his forehead with his palm in exasperation.
“So what have you found out?”
“Foolsfolly’s space station blew up 15 minutes ago. No sign of Puma.”
“Great,” sighed Jedipoet, raising his bottle to his lips, when suddenly another bullet flew out of nowhere and shattered it. “Oh, come on!” he roared, but Don slumped forward, a bullet in his head.
“Shit! My informant! I needed him for exposition dialogue!”
Another voice rang out and the denizens in the bar scattered. “I’ll exposition YOUR dialogue, you son of a bitch!”
Jedipoet looked up as Foolsfolly flew around the bar on a glider that looked suspiciously like the Green Goblin’s in Spider-Man.
“How the hell did you get that thing inside? And how did I not notice?”
“What am I, the answer man?” demanded Foolsfolly. “You sent your little runt into my space station and now the damn thing’s blown up!”
Jedipoet shrugged.
“Why are you complaining? Wasn’t the battle awesome?”
“Oh, incredibly so, but I demand either you die or at least give me a battle twice as awesome.”
“Oh, fine,” grunted Jedipoet. “Let me get my dirt bike, we’ll go to the mountain.”
“A dirt bike?” said Foolsfolly incredulously. “A fucking dirt bike? Are you shitting me? It’ll never keep up with this Glidaxor 3000 I totally acquired in a legal transaction.”
“Did I mention it’s made of supermodels?”
Foolsfolly scratched his head.
“That’s either really hot or really disgusting. OK. Race ya!”
And the two sped off towards the nearby mountain, which was so high up that when they reached the top they were standing outside the planet’s atmosphere and in space itself. For dramatic purposes, they did not require space suits and the lack of oxygen did not stop them from talking to each other. The race itself took 12 hours, but it was too boring to warrant a description. The two enemies glared at each other.
Jedipoet grinned. “Alas, at long last, we fight to the end. Any last words or last requests...dickface?”
Foolsfolly thought it over. “I'm just sorry I never got to bang that one chick two scenes ago...”
“The princess?” asked Jedipoet.
“No, the other one.”
“I thought all of her scenes were cut and her subplot taken out of continuity. In fact, didn’t this entire story only start two scenes ago?”
“You fool!” laughed Foolsfolly in his evil voice. “This is the extended DVD cut!”
Jedipoet paused. “If that's true then this scene goes on for two more minutes.”
An awkward silence ensued. Foolsfolly scratched his head as he thought that one over. “Fuck, you mean we have to think of something to talk about for two minutes... so, that one chick, pretty hot, huh?”
“I'll say,” grinned Jedipoet, and the two of them laughed at the thought. Then, with nothing left to talk about, they continued brooding silently for a moment until Foolsfolly lost patience.
“Fuck it, I'll kill you now!” he bellowed, and he pulled out a Beamatron blade, a sword made entirely out of Beamatron...ium... or something. Jedipoet simply chuckled.
“Heh, you know, if you strike me down, I'll be like... way more powerful... and stuff.”
With that, he withdrew his own weapon, a plot hole generator. Foolsfolly stared at him incredulously.
“Now wait a goddamn minute! If that's true, then I have no choice but kill you. I mean, really, how else am I supposed to react to a threat like that? If I don't kill you, what am I suppose to do, fight you but not kill you? Screw that, I'll take my chances.”
He raised the betroni-something-thing to his waist and held the blade outward from his crotch, making it appear even more phallic-like, but still, Jedipoet did nothing but chuckle at him.
“Hey, you remember that satellite that orbits this planet that makes Beamatron-based weapons explode?”
“The fuck I do. What are you talking about?”
“Heh heh, neither do the writers,” sneered Jedipoet, and he activated the plot hole generator. A bright light appeared in the distance, and Jedipoet folded his arms. “You see, we did have two more minutes of dialogue.”
The bright light grew larger as something shot towards them. Foolsfolly began to yell.
“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-”
The beam slammed into Foolsfolly and ripped his arm from his body, leaving a blackened stump that smoked comically, kind of like a Wile E Coyote cartoon. But Wile E never had a beard as awesome as Foolsfolly’s. Jedipoet pointed and laughed at the smoking stump.
“Dude, your arm was just circumcised!” he laughed.
“Oh, you’re making dick jokes now?” said Foolsfolly. “Cop this, you bitch!”
He ran up and kicked Jedipoet in the face as hard as he could. Jedipoet cried out in surprise and pain and fell backwards down the mountain.
“SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii…” was all Foolsfolly heard. He looked down the mountain where Jedipoet had just vanished and realised something.
“Oh shit…eastern side of the planet is the desert where the bar is…but he just fell towards the western side…which is covered with lava. Well, if that’s not a set-up for an epic fight scene, I dunno what is!”
He hopped down the mountain as quick as he could.
***
Jedipoet looked up as Foolsfolly approached him, regular sword in hand.
“Well, that sword looks kind of crappy, dude,” he said. “I mean, we’ve had the most ridiculous weapons that never existed in fights, now you’re using a regular iron sword?”
“Well, you’ve got a scythe,” pointed out Foolsfolly.
“Hey, the Grim Reaper uses a scythe, and he’s a pimp,” retorted Foolsfolly. “And what the hell happened to your arm? Didn’t it get burned off by the satellite?”
“Yeah. That sucked. It came back,” said Foolsfolly. “Now DIE!”
Foolsfolly lunged at Jedipoet and two began hopping across the rocks floating on the lava as they duelled furiously. In the midst of all this, they somehow didn’t die from heatstroke or their skin melting off even though magma is a few hundred degrees and the entire hemisphere of the planet was covered with it.
“Good thing we have this special sunscreen that protects us from heat,” said Foolsfolly cheerfully.
Jedipoet blinked. “That doesn't even begin to make any kind of sense...like whatsoever. How does sunscreen block heat?”
“Listen, I don't write this shit,” snapped Foolsfolly irritably as he reached into his pocket and, with a dramatic movement of some kind, withdrew the feared device known as a plot twist. Jedipoet gasped.
“You don't know the power of creative control,” he said in shock. “You can bend it to your will, but you may end up fucking up the entire universe.”
“A risk I'm willing to take,” grinned Foolsfolly. “The actor who plays me is signed for two more sequels, arse munch. I'll be fine.”
He threws the plot twist into the air, and it hung there for a second...to add suspense...or something. They both stared at it, waiting for it to do something.
“You realise you can still die,” pointed out Jedipoet. “They can just bring you back as a ghost, and last time I checked, ghosts don't get any love scenes.”
“Patrick Swayze.”
“Fuck.”
The plot twist suddenly disappeared in a flash. The pair of them stared at the space where it had been in confusion. Jedipoet pointed at the blank part of air.
“Are you sure that wasn't just an anti-climax?” he asked.
“This is the CBM Family movie, not your sex life,” sneered Foolsfolly. Jedipoet gave him the finger.
“What would we call yours... premature-climax?” he asked
Before Foolsfolly could come up with a witty response, however, the plot twist magically appeared between them and suddenly exploded into the shape of another character. How many are we up to now, four? Five? Oh well. This one punched both of the enemies in the gut and stood up straight as the bright light began to fade around him.
“Puny supporting characters,” it boomed in a voice befitting an action hero. “Prepare yourselves for the awesome force of Captain Dactavius!”
Foolsfolly stood back up and raised his eyebrow quizzically. “Why would you arrive and then tell us to prepare for your arrival?”
“Element of surprise fail,” added Jedipoet. The newcomer held up a hand.
“Silence,” he said in a voice that sounded like an action hero’s (seriously, we can’t stress that enough, he sounds like a freaking action hero). “I am an alternate reality version of a character from a separate universe, in the middle of a crossover series retconned as an extremely important character in this universe, and I need you all to be in awe of me so I don't have to explain my origin story.”
“If we do that, does that mean we don't have to watch a flash back?” asked Foolsfolly. The captain paused briefly.
“…sure.”
“Our characters may need a little motivation,” noted Jedipoet. Dactavius scratched his chin.
“Ok…” he said. “I'm also a robot.”
Foolsfolly and Jedipoet exchanged a glance. Foolsfolly shrugged. “Good enough for me,” he said.
For no readily apparent reason, Dactavius’s arm turned into a Death Beam Cannon and he shot and killed the mountain.
“HOLY SHIT!” screamed Jedipoet. “He just killed a mountain! HE ACTUALLY KILLED AN INANIMATE OBJECT!”
“What if that mountain had a family, you Kentucky Fried Fuck!?!” roared Foolsfolly in a fury. Jedipoet laid a hand on his enemy’s shoulder as Dactavius laughed evilly in that action hero voice.
“Clearly we’re outmatched and need to join forces,” said Jedipoet tersely.
“Clearly,” agreed Foolsfolly. “But how do we defeat someone who can kill things that aren't even alive?!”
Dactavius overheard the conversation since neither of the two were being subtle about it and laughed at them in disdain.
“You douche applicators have no chance,” he crowed. “Why, my entire body is even made out of Beamatron metal, a metal so strong it baffles science, magic, AND plot progression. MUHAHAHA!”
Foolsfolly and Jedipoet froze in place, and slowly turned to each other with identical grins on their faces.
“Beamatron metal, eh?” sneered Foolsfolly.
Above them, a blue light appeared in the sky. Dactavius looked up towards it.
“Is that a satellite?” he asked.
“Dude, I got some BAAAAAAAD news for you,” grinned Jedipoet.
Dactavius stared at the light, and watched as it got closer very rapidly. “Wha...OH SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-”
The beam slammed into Dactavius’s body and obliterated him. The two enemies were thrown off their feet by the shock wave over the mountain’s smouldering corpse, where a few baby mountains were sobbing quietly, and crash-landing in the desert on the other side of the planet. The two of them groggily stood up when, by some random coincidence, they both got simultaneous phone calls.
***
“Hello?” said Jedipoet’s voice.
“Jedipoet! It’s me, Puma,” said the hero, with his shirt totally torn off so all the girls would sigh in adoration.
“Puma? Dude, I thought you were dead!”
“I was, but then my contract was renewed so now I’m alive. And guess what? I found the secret plans Foolsfolly stole and infiltrated the space station depicted on it. It’s Emperor Data’s bachelor pad! I broke into Emperor fucking Data’a bachelor pad!”
“Dude! That’s awesome!”
“I know, right?”
“I’m fighting Foolsfolly. I’ll be with you in a little while.”
“OK. But how do you know where it is?”
“I don’t, but I’ll find it with some improbably-convenient device.”
“You mean Google Maps?”
“Sure, that’ll do.”
“OK, see you in a bit.”
Puma hung up the phone and turned around, looking for the bar.
“Gonna need some cognac over here, and leave the bottle!” he called.
***
“Hello?” said Foolsfolly’s voice.
“Foolsfolly!” snapped Emperor Data. “Where the hell are you?”
“Down on that planet the writers never bothered giving a name. I’m fighting Jedipoet. What’s up?”
“Jedipoet’s little buddy is here,” growled Emperor Data. “I don’t know how, but the little bastard Puma somehow got into my bachelor pad. You know, the one you were supposed to be guarding the plans of.”
“Yeah, he invaded my space station and we blew up the space part of it in the fight. Little bastard wrecked my sandwich.”
“Well hurry up and get over here so you can beat the little fucker up. He’s drinking my booze!”
“All right, all right, I’ll be right there. How the hell did he get in there, anyway?”
“Uh…hold on.” Data looked up from the phone over at Puma. “Hey, Puma!”
“What?”
“How did you get in here again?”
“Door was unlocked.”
“OK.” Data turned back to the phone. “He said the door was unlocked.”
“Your space station has a door?”
“Apparently. How the hell should I know? I haven’t left it in three years, damn it. Just get over here and kill the little bastard.”
“What about Jedipoet, want me to kill him first?”
“No, we need him for the sequel.”
“OK.”
***
Foolsfolly hung up the phone and looked at Jedipoet.
“Sorry, I gotta go,” he said.
“Fine,” said Jedipoet. “Call me, OK?”
“Same time next week,” said Foolsfolly, and run in some arbitrary direction. Jedipoet sat down on a rock and stretched himself out to go to sleep, because non-stop battle will make people tired like that. Then he sat upright as he realised Foolsfolly would get to Emperor Data’s before him.
“Hey, wait a minute!”
***
Hours later, Puma and Foolsfolly stood high atop a balcony of the space station, overlooking an asteroid field in front of a star going supernova, next to a solar system getting sucked into an artificial black hole... and some other crazy shit. The pair of them stared at it silently for a while.
The silence got really awkward.
Like, really awkward.
“Pretty fucking badass fight scene, wasn't it?” commented Foolsfolly.
“Did you like the part with the black hole?” asked Puma.
“Totally didn't see that coming.”
“Good times,” grinned the younger, beardless man.
Behind them, Emperor Data sat in a really tall evil-looking chair, staring incredulously at them.
“What are you fucks doing?” he cried. “Fight, for chrissake! I command it.”
“Eat shit, you douche,” responded Puma.
“Quiet, you,” snapped Emperor Data. “Foolsfolly, as your previously unseen but entirely more powerful evil overlord who has suddenly become as important as you in the story in the space of a few minutes, I command you to beat the shit out of this little bastard.”
“OK,” said Foolsfolly, turning to Puma and withdrawing his Rocket-Propelled Chainsaw Launcher (RPC Launcher). “Die, penguin sympathiser!”
In response, Puma extended his arms. A pair of three-foot blades slid out of his sleeves at his wrist level. Foolsfolly stared at them.
“Wait, you had those blades this whole time?” he asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“How could you bend your arms?”
Puma gaped at him in disbelief. “After all the other ridiculous shit that's happened so far, that's the thing you question?”
“Meh.”
Foolsfolly fired a Chainsaw a Puma, who swiftly whipped up one of the blades and deflected it into a wall, making a huge hole which started sucking atmosphere out. Not very quickly, though, just enough to make air rush around the room but not decompress violently; again, for dramatic reasons.
“Yes, YES!” cheered Data. “More death, more destruction!”
“Why are you cheering us on?” asked Puma. “We're slowly destroying pretty much everything.”
“It's cool, I have insurance,” said Data happily, like a child.
“It's true,” said Foolsfolly. “We have pretty much the best job benefits in all the universe.”
“Which reminds me,” said Data. “I have to let you go, Foolsfolly. Sorry I had to bring it up in such a critical and plot heavy scene.”
Foolsfolly did a double-take. “Wait, what?”
“Want a job, Puma?” asked Data.
“I'll never join you!” roared the young man in response.
“Yeah, maybe you should have you know, asked him to join us first before you totally threw me under the bus there,” pouted Foolsfolly. “I can’t believe this shit. I’d cry if it was physically possible for me to cry. But since this universe is so awesome no one has tear ducts. My body has no idea what to do right now.”
“Come on, Puma,” pressed Data. “Six figures, plenty of vacation days, phenomenal health and dental, sweet company phone.”
Foolsfolly snorted. “You idiot, he just said he'll nev-”
“What kind of phone plan?” asked Puma.
“What the crap?” said Foolsfolly, suddenly bewildered.
Data held out the latest type of iPhone and held it out to Puma. “Check it out,” he said. “Free long distance, night and weekend minutes. Nights start after 6 pm and…UNLIMITED INTERNET CONNECTION!”
“Oh, I'm fucking sold!” cheered Puma. Foolsfolly gaped at the two of them.
“I've been loyal to you for years!” he wailed. “After so much time, why this betrayal? WHY, I SAY!?!”
Data shrugged. “Recession, dude.”
“Fucking economy!” yelled Foolsfolly.
“What about texting?” asked Puma.
Data started to utter a response when suddenly Foolsfolly shot a chainsaw into his head.
“Boom, headshot!” cried Foolsfolly.
“DUDE!” cried Puma. “That was a fucking cheap shot!”
“Still a sweet kill,” said Foolsfolly. “Besides, anyone who’s ever seen any kind of movie knows, once the bad guys start betraying each other, they start killing each other. Hell, you’ve seen Return of the Jedi, haven’t you?”
“Uh…” said Puma. “You’re not about to tell me you’re my father, are you?”
“Me? No, I had a vasectomy when I was five.”
Puma gasped in horror.
“What?” demanded Foolsfolly in irritation. “It was for purely medical reasons.”
“I don’t give a shit about your vas deferens,” said Puma. “I’m shocked because you almost had a character moment there!”
Foolsfolly jumped in fright.
“HOLY SHIT! You’re right! Oh, Jesus, what the fuck was I thinking?!”
“Quick!” cried Puma. “We need to cut to another epic fight scene before something like that happens again!”
“But we’ve already fought here,” protested Foolsfolly. “We need to cut to another exotic location.”
“Jedipoet and I have a gladiator arena on a planet near here,” offered Puma. “Want to go there?”
“OK. I’ll meet you there in half an hour.”
“You know where it is?”
“Google Maps.”
“Ah.”
***
Jedipoet and Puma stood near the centre of their gladiator arena, while Foolsfolly stood a short distance away. Above the doorway to the arena hung a sign that read, “Arena of Death: Space Thunderdome Gladiatorial Games Whatsit Thingy”. Jedipoet smiled sweetly at Foolsfolly.
“I still owe you for leaving me in the desert like that,” he said. “Prepare to have your arse cut off, diced into small pieces, tenderized, thrown into a stew, slow cooked for three hours at medium settings, then neatly poured and wrapped in a bowl, then promptly handed to you while the contents are still warm and delicious.”
Foolsfolly looked at him in astonishment. “…I've never been more hungry or disgusted in my entire life.”
“Today on the menu: Folly arse, half off with coupon,” added Puma.
“Uh huh, I got it,” said Foolsfolly dismissively. “So... who wants it first?! He reached into his pocket and pulled out an 1800s-era musket, which he stared blankly at. “Really?” he said. “A musket? ...OK...”
Nearby, Puma pulled out a Beamatron-based satellite jammer, while Jedipoet pulled out an iPhone with gun attachment.
“Oh shi-” said Puma.
“Why is this shit password protected?” exclaimed Jedipoet.
“Well,” said Foolsfolly in bemusement. “Redundant weapons are redundant…slash, retarded.”
Puma and Jedipoet looked at each other's weapons in confusion.
“You know, we probably should have coordinated a bit on this,” noted Jedipoet.
“Fuck it,” said Puma. “We can still throw these things pretty damn hard.” He hurled his satellite do-wacky with all of his might, and it fell short of Foolsfolly by several metres. Foolsfolly looked at it, then looked back up at the others.
“Now you will pay for your lack of forethought…and fitness,” he declared. “Just as soon as I slowly figure out how to load this fucking thing.”
Foolsfolly began examining the musket, trying to work out how to use, while abruptly, Jedipoet collapsed into Puma’s arms in a totally no-homo way.
“Dearest Puma,” he gasped. “It seems I have been poisoned.”
“But how?” demanded Puma. “I must know!”
“A few scenes ago,” choked Jedipoet. “When I was drinking my antifreeze, someone spiked it.”
“What? No, that can’t be right,” said Puma. “The bottles were consistently shot out of your hand before you could drink them, remember?”
“The audience doesn’t,” said Jedipoet. “Perhaps a flashback is in order.”
Jedipoet and Puma immediately entered a flashback and became oblivious to their surroundings, even though Puma wasn’t even in the scene they were flashing back to. While they were zoned out, Foolsfolly sneaked over, stole the iPhone and activated the browser.
“Wiki, don't fail me now,” he muttered.
The other two observed the scene in question and found the writers had indeed retconned the scene so Jedipoet had drunk enough of the poison to die at the present moment. Puma scratched his head as they watched.
“But how come we didn't know until just now that you were poisoned?” he asked?
“The scene was inserted last minute so your moral support would leave you to resolve the conflict in the story yourself. It's a literary device, you see,” answered Jedipoet.
“I fucking hate littering,” spat Puma.
“That's not exactly what I-”
“But who will teach me the ways of Awesome now?” moaned Puma in sudden and poorly-acted despair.
“Don't worry,” smiled Jedipoet. “For sequels they'll introduce another character that will serve the same purpose as I do, but they'll give him snappier dialogue and a talking parrot.”
“Oh sweet,” said Puma, his despair vanishing as quickly as it had come. “Hey Poet, I just realised, if you rearrange the letters in your name it spells Pedo Jeti.”
Jedipoet blinked. “That's... fucking stupid,” he said, and felt his nerves seizing up from the poison. “Good bye Pum-”
There was a loud BLAM sound complete with a giant neon cardboard sign that said “BLAM!” because some people still feel nostalgia for the Adam West Batman series, and a gunshot wound appeared in Jedipoet’s head.
“What the fuck?!?” yelped Puma.
“Holy shit!” said Foolsfolly, still sitting in the sand nearby, holding the iPhone with a look of amazement on his face. “I didn't think I'd be able to guess the password in one try.”
“You're gonna pay, you commie duckweed!” roared Puma, but Foolsfolly simply stared at the phone.
“‘Ch3k0v,’” he read. “What are the odds, am I right?”
Puma lunged at Fools just as everything went black and the words “THE END” appeared.
“What?” cried Puma. “Oh, bullshit! This is the worst cliffhanger ending ever!”
“Is this even a cliffhanger?” asked Foolsfolly in confusion.
“I DON’T KNOW!”
11/4/2009 12:38:33 AM
(Updated: 11/4/2009 12:41:09 AM)
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