The Beginning: When Harv Met Vera

[badgoodDeb]

OOoooooo -- we have a gen-u-wine Superhero here!!

[pshrynk]

Let's just say that he's been transformed...

[yvanleterrible]

Another Montsnmags Enterprises Pharmaceuticals experiment?

A fourth dimension power tap?

How about one taco too much?

[GeoffC]

flip - just when I thought of a plot for NaNoWriMo - someone goes and pinches it ...

[bobavey]

Say What?

[badgoodDeb]

Originally Posted by bobavey

Say What?

Hi, and welcome to the silliness! Join in whenever you feel you've got the tune.

[pshrynk]

Miyatake awoke with a start. His head was foggy and his tongue was carpeted with something from Rock Lobster's office. He was lying on something squishy that moaned. So far a typical Tuesday night. He extricated himself with a minimum of embarrassing moments involving the beautiful Hilda and her lederhosen.

Looking around at the ruins of the cantina with the parrot in the corner screaming bloody murder, he spied (heh) the trigger mechanism lying under one of Hilda's hobnailed boots. Risking life and limb, not to mention hypertrophied libido he gingerly picked up the boot and snatched the box from underneath.

As he lifted it up, several things when "clunk" and one actually went "ping" and parts fell out. He tried punching in the sequence that the Frenchman had given then, but as expected, nothing happened. He dropped the useless piece of equipment and looked around for alternatives.

Plan B, it was. He went back to the rear of the cantina and knocked on the door.

"Who is it?"

"It is me."

"How do I know that?"

"Because Munich is a good place for a nice long saunter."

"When would we be able to get delivery?"

"My hovercraft is filled with eels."

"Come on in, senor. What was all that racket?"

"I have no idea, I was passed out drunk at the time."

"Is that allowed on duty?"

"For certain values of duty, yes. Now, if you would, please, I have need of the Stormtroopers that Hilda has waiting in the back, as well as my ninjas. Please alert them and bring them to the cantina quickly."

"Si, senor!"

Miyatake went back out into the cantina and stood with his hands behind him. Never let a clever plan get in the way of a good brawl was his current motto.

[badgoodDeb]

My hovercraft is empty. I guess that's why these guys are the professionals.

[pshrynk]

All eyes around the table were on the card as it slowly started to flip over. Harv looked around at the tells on his table partners once again. The babe was still the Ice Queen. Twitchy was still twitching and counting things under his breath. The American spy had a vacant look on his face, but that didn't mean anything, since he was playing a game of random numbers that had little to do with poker. And the fellow who had introduced himself as the American Ambassador to This Little Paradise was showing strongly that he was bluffing all the way.

The squid slapped the card down, its tentacle obscuring all but the suit - spades. Everyone around the table reacted strongly, even the babe. He leaned forward in his fake tell to show that he really needed this card to be something good. The tentacle started to pull back.

At that moment the door to the gaming room was kicked in off the hinges and a loud clatter arose from the hallway outside. Someone was screaming in German and another voice joined in in Japanese. Harv spun around and was, quite frankly surprised. And given everything else that had happened tonight, that also surprised him.

Marching into the gaming room in lock step march were about half a dozen large blond men with blue eyes, wearing what could only be described as a cheap Hollywood film's idea of Mexican peasant clothes. Riding on each of their shoulders were what appeared to be squirrels dressed in black pajamas, carrying blades about the size of a steak knife. Behind them were a small Japanese man dressed in a wool business suit, supporting an enormous woman in lederhosen, who was doing the screaming in German.

"Well, that's something you don't see every day," said Vivaldi, who was spitting out what might just have been a stick of dynamite.

"We can play fetch later," said Harv, distractedly, as the column of men made a parade right turn and headed right toward him. The American Ambassador yelped and dove under the table.

"Hey! There are explosives under here!" came a faint voice.

"Explosives! That must be the word! Hey Boss! There are explosives under all the chairs in here!"

Harv did not have much time to react, given that the first Storm Trooper had arrived and was swinging wildly at anyone in his way. The squirrels perched on his shoulders jumped at Harv, blades swinging in unison.

[badgoodDeb]

Oh my goodness!! Even the pirate ninja squirrels are in on the action. This is Really Big Action!

[yvanleterrible]

What was the card...what was the card!

[GeoffC]

Originally Posted by yvanleterrible

What was the card...what was the card!

probably the Joker ....

[pshrynk]

Vera stood up as the door crashed in and whirled around to witness the March of the Faux Mexican Peasants. Suppressing a snicker, she toyed with a chair back to judge its weight. Being a woman, she felt no compulsion to fight fair, and, judging by their mode of entry, the Germanomexican peasants were spoiling for a fight.

The nearest one reached the pilot and swung wildly at him. It was obvious that the thug had no intent on making it an interesting combat, just a quick one. Amazingly, the pilot dodged under the swing and landed a fist in the peasant's belly. Followed quickly by a foot to the groin. Vera nodded approvingly as she swung the chair from the floor into an arc that connected with the head of the howling peasant.

"Thanks," said the pilot as he waded in to the next fray.

"No problem!" Swing the chair up through the arc and back down on the head of another peasant. She was happy that they were wearing uniform disguises. She'd been in a few brawls where you couldn't tell friend from foe other that the amount of complaining that followed giving them a good smack.

One of the black pajama'd squirrels yelped out a high pitched battle cry and launched itself toward her head. Vivaldi yelled, "Squirrel!" and jumped up five feet from the floor and nabbed it by the tail. She lost track of them as the squirrel started expressing its dismay at having its tail bitten by a talking dog.

Spinning around with the momentum of the chair, she noticed several things as if they were a series of photos.

Howard Hughes was busily counting the number of peasants in the fray and needing to start over every time one went down.

Montsnmags was talking to the air, as if in deep conversation.

Handsome was busy scooping all the chips from their table into his oversized pockets.

The American Ambassador was cringing under the table.

Biggles went up to a peasant and went into some sort of strange stance that had his hands up above his head and one leg pulled up and balancing on the other foot. The peasant back handed him lightly and he went down like a sack of potatoes.

A handsome thin man in a black suit, standing by an enormous dog, had just entered the back door.

The squid was on the phone to his agent, enquiring if the electric eel was available to do stunt doubles.

[pshrynk]

Biggles slowly came to and found that a rather large German dressed as a Mexican peasant was standing on him and idly wondered how he had gotten back to boarding school. Then things came into sharper focus and he realized that there was a full fledged brawl going on above him. Apparently, the book on Form of the Crane really did not know what it was talking about inasmuch as he had not, in fact "Sent his foes crying from the room as if babies before a maple street paver." He had always wondered at the accuracy of that translation.

Knowing form his schoolboy days that staying on the ground in a fight was the fasted way to not get hit again, he started looking around for what he had to work with. Years of plotting to get back at "Snotty" Corvin soon yielded paydirt. There seemed to be quite a bit of dynamite lying around the floor, quite unclaimed and ready to hand.

He began to busy himself with the sticks and the pant legs of the "peasants." He was trod upon four times, but wrote that off and further experience. The worst that happened was when Vera stepped down on his hand with her stiletto heel. Whimpering to himself, he kept on with the task at hand.

The grey dog that had been following his friend Harv around came up and spt out an unconscious squirrel in a pajama. "Need any help, Bub?"

"You know, unless I knew better, I would swear that this dog just talked to me. Must have been the blow to the head."

"Which one? The one when you mother dropped you as a child?"

"Mumsy never actually handled us as infants, that was why she hired Mrs. Stumble. I must really be going mad. Now I am talking to myself and getting answers."

"Only because you're too boring to talk to myself, pal." The dog wandered off, grumbling.

"Odd that. He seems such an intelligent little lad. Why I could almost believe that he can talk."

In the background noise came a faint reply, "I could almost imagine you could think..." The lat part of the sentence was, thankfully, lost in the noise.

Biggles shrugged and started stuffing peasant pants with sticks of dynamite. He'd worry about his sanity tomorrow, when he had completely forgotten about this incident.

[badgoodDeb]

I don't suppose dynamite sticks are useful as drumsticks for a drummer. A little too fragile.

I bet if you kick those peasant's stuffed pant legs, something interesting would happen!