Furniture Warriors

            Originally a Spoof Chase Production by Stefan Gagne
                      Now an Improfanfic production
                      http://www.improfanfic.com/

                                Part XXX
                            No, that's "30"

                    You Can't Do That on My Loveseat
                                   or
                    101 Ecchi Uses for a Halogen Bulb
                                   OR

                  ___________END OF FURNITURE___________
                                
                                   by
                         Mervyn the Wonder Slug

                        with some assistance from
                               Kate Malloy
  

(All characters copyright Nihana-san, obviously. If I ever even considered 
claiming that these were my own characters I'd probably be thrown into a 
small cell where I'd be forced to eat my own CDs of obscure Baroque
composers to live.)


                        *************************

Last time on Furniture Warriors, events unfolded thusly:

-Ikea remained calm in the tender embrace of the Furniture Vortex.
-The Emperor indulged in his second-favorite pastime, Pfischer-maiming.
-Yoshi and Fifi found some serious , and the chapter on noses from
 The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy found a new incarnation.
-Joanie, Shelly, Yarslov, Rebecca, Tony, and Miss Oeru were mysteriously
 absent.
-Queen Radience challenged Ikea to a duel, both to keep Bad Stuff from
 happening and to avenge the minor injustice of Ikea stealing (sort of)
 the affections of her so--her chi--her loveable Vortex.

                        *************************

Ikea had a hard time extricating himself from the Vortex.  Queen Radiance 
waited patiently, halogen bulbs in hand, while the Emperor attemtped 
(unsuccessfully) to bludgeon Dr. Pfischer to death with a Nerfed sofa.
Yoshi and Fifi stood to one side, nervously counting down to something
ill-defined but probably very unpleasant, and a miscellaneous gardener hung 
around in the background, staring grimly at anyone who looked like upsetting 
his bed of petunias.

With a monumental sigh--it was almost audible--Ikea patted the Vortex gently
and said, "Your. . . 'mommy' . . . has something important to take care of 
now."

The Vortex released him, albeit reluctantly, and rubbed against his legs like
a kitten.

Yoshi and Fifi sighed in relief.  The Emperor was paying no attention, still
being intent on raining spongey death on his assistant.

"At this point," said Dr. Shockwave, "I feel I should point out that I am,
in fact, still here."  He was summarily ignored by all present.

"I am ready," said Ikea.  Queen Radiance nodded, slowly, and adjusted her 
red velvet gloves.  Then she sprang forward, shouting "Gyaaaarh!" and wearing 
a cute look of violent intent on her face.  She swung her bulbs downward in a
vicious overhead assault, which Ikea calmly blocked with his chair.  He
attempted to strike back while she was open, but she was much too fast.  She 
had lept out of range before the chair was even halfway to the Radiance-shaped
hole in the air.

"Nothing *grunt* personal, Ikea," she said, lunging in to attack.  She moved
like, well, lightning, and although she wasn't particularly strong Ikea was
completely occupied with blocking her attacks.  There was simply no opportunity
to strike back.  "I can't *hyearrgh!* allow this tournament to be called on
account of *thwack* stagnation."  She thrust one tube at Ikea like a saber,
but he managed to tangle it in the legs of his chair and yank it away.

"Yay!!  Go Ikea-oniichan!"

"Not bad," said the Queen, pausing to breathe for a moment.  "I had hoped it
wouldn't come to this *hyaaaaaaa!* but you can imagine what would *whap*
happen if the full power of the Ottoman *ungh* Empire were to fall into 
Marlo's hands."

Everyone else spasmed reflexively, even Ikea, which gave the Queen an opening
to land a kick squarely on Ikea's chest.  He staggered backwards.

"Radiant Blast!" cried the Queen, leaping back and flinging a volleyball-sized
flare of engery towards her opponent.  Ikea blocked this as well, but it was 
enough to force him backwards into a decorative lawn gnome, which caused him
to fall over into the bed of petunias.

"I knew it," muttered a voice in the distance.  "You feeds 'em and you
waters 'em for five hundred years, then some bastards fall into 'em."

Ikea clambered out of the flower bed just in time to hear the Queen shout 
"Strobe Combo!" and see the world vanish in a disconnected flurry of luminous
kicks and tube strikes.

Slowly, and with great serenity, Ikea fell face-first onto the ground.

"Wow," said Dr. Shockwave.  "She *is* the Queen.  Not that I doubted for 
a second, of course."

"Ano, oniichan," said Lumi, "I think you're supposed to hit back."

Queen Radiance, meanwhile, was bouncing and mugging for the nonexistant
audience in a way that would make Mai Shiranui jealous (although the Queen
did leave much more to the imagination).  Thus, she was not in a position
to see Ikea stand up again.

Ikea was in the land of supreme serenity available only to the truly slap-
happy. All was fine with the world.  And it was just so easy to *focus*, 
although for some reason there seemed to be two of everything.

Vaguely aware that a fight was, technically, taking place, Ikea raised his
chair and said, quite conversationally, "Blazing Chair Inferno."

"Oh, <edit>," said Yoshi.

"Yeah," said Fifi, clinging to him in a way that would make Hugh quite upset,
had he been there.

"Boom," said the garden.

When the smoke cleared, the air was tinged with the smell of singed hair and
molten foam rubber.  Queen Radiance lay on the ground, rather crispy.
"What a man," she mumbled.

"Yay oniichan," Lumi said faintly, from somewhere inside a shrub.

Ikea offered a wobbly victory pose, then glazed and fell backwards.

"Mommy's sleeping," said the Vortex.

                        *************************

Deep in the bowels of the palace, something unpleasant stirred.  It was not
happy.  It had risen from the status of a mere running gag to king of the
ring, only to fall again: whacked with beds, flung in a hole, mercilessly
pummeled . . .  Resentment rose in its throat like bile.  It would show 
them all.  It would make them pay.  And it would DEMAND that it be referred
to with a gender-specific pronoun.

Marlo was miffed.  Vexed, even.

                        *************************

Also deep inside the palace...

All was still not quite right in Yarslov Land, but he felt much better after
Shelly had muttered something that might have been "I'm sorry I said I hate
you, you stupid jerk."  Then again, it could have been "I'm starting a 
seedy plate factory, you tepid fork," but Yarslov ruled that out.  It also
looked like Joanie was twisting Shelly's arm behind her back.

At any rate, they were well past the melodrama stage and were now carefully
pretending that one third of their group didn't hate another third, and that
this third was at least marginally smarter than a turnip.

"So..." Shelly tentatively began.  "You say my father is inside your head?"

"Yeah," said Yarslov.  "The sound of those pool balls rattling around is 
really starting to get to me."

Shelly and Joanie stared at him.

"Ah," said Shelly.  "Is there any chance that he knows where the REST of
him is?"

"Hold on, I'll ask."  Yarslov went blank, well blanker than usual anyway,
and then resurfaced.  "He says 'Sorry-dorry, Sheila-me-lass, not a clue'."
He quickly added "Hesaiditnotme!" as Shelly's face began to turn purple.

Shelly frowned.  Go off and abandon people and fall into a coma and live 
in Yarslov's head and not even a forwarding address.  This was JUST like 
him.  Hmph.  She had half a mind to leave him there, the jerk.

She couldn't, of course.  Deep inside there was still a trusting, nonviolent
little girl who adored her father, one who had not been made painfully aware
that the other girls at Miss Pifflemoore's school had fathers who were 
bankers and lawyers and actual nobility, as opposed to deadbeat pool 
hustlers.  On occasions such as this the little girl would make her presence 
known, much to Shelly's annoyance.

It made her want to hit something.  She chose a wall, since Yarsov was off
limits for Joanie's sake, and began pummeling it relentlessly.

"Do you think we could find him if we just opened doors randomly?" Yarslov
asked, shouting over the noises of violence.

"I doubt it!" Joanie shouted back.  "It would probably be tempting fate to
try it again!"

"It's got to be worth a shot!" he yelled, reaching for a door.  It opened,
and a slavering monstrosity from the deepest pits of the Ottoman Empire
stared out at him from beneath the shaggy antimaccasar draped over its 
forehead.

"Most unfroody," Yarslov weakly said.

                        *************************

Back in the garden, Queen Radiance was up and dusting the soot off herself.
She regarded the Vortex, which was curled up next to Ikea and possibly
asleep, with deep parental dissapproval.

"Honestly," she sighed.  "This was supposed to make things better, not 
worse..."

The Emperor set his down his sofa and his ottoman.  He searched for the most
unmelted parts and flopped down on them.

AND MIGHT I SAY IT FAILED SPECTACULARLY, he muttered.

Queen Radiance turned on him angrily.  "Whose idea was it to use the Vortex
in the first place?" she demanded.

HIS, said the Emperor, pointing at Dr. Pfischer, who at the moment was 
sulking on a bench, picking pieces of Nerf out of his singed hair.

"...Oh.  But you shouldn't have allowed it!" she said, rallying in face
of opposition.  "You should have known that something would have gone
horribly wrong.  You should at least have mislabled the 'ON' button."

The Emperor sighed.  YOU'RE RIGHT, OF COURSE.  IT ALWAYS DOES.  I SHOULD
HAVE LEARNED BY NOW, BUT NO.  I NOD LIKE A GIT AND GO ALONG.  I'M SURPRISED
WE LASTED THIS LONG, REALLY.  LIVEWIRE FAILED, FRIGIDAIRE FIFI FAILED,
THE LET'S-TURN-LUMI-EVIL PLOT FAILED. . . THE LET'S-TURN-IKEA-EVIL PLOT 
NEVER ACTUALLY MATERIALIZED. . . ARE YOU DETECTING A PATTERN HERE, DR. 
PFISCHER?

"Fthphtah," said Dr. Pfisher, spitting out a chunk of charred foam rubber.

*SIGH*

Queen Radiance was annoyed by this response.  When you have your opponent
cornered he ought to rail and snarl and spew melodramatic nonsense.  This
sort of behavior was totally uncalled for.

"Well, so long as you've learned your lesson," she said uncertainly.

"My Queen!" protested Dr. Shockwave.  "He is the enemy!  We must extirpate
the infid--nonono, that won't do.  We must rid the world of--blast.  We must
not allow them to spread their evil ways any further!"

"Doctor?"

"Yes, my Queen?"

"Shut up."

Yoshi lurched up to them, lugging the massive tome and dragging Fifi, who
was clinging to his leg with the strength of rigor mortis.  She made 
occasional whimpering sounds.  Enough of her lingerie had been blasted off
to hike the ESRB rating a notch.

Yoshi glared balefully at Dr. Shockwave, shifted his gaze to Fifi, and then
back to Dr. Shockwave.  This, the look said, Is All Your Fault.

"Here's your damn transistor radio," said Yoshi, slapping it into Dr.
Shockwave's hand.  "I suggest you use it before FunitureSpace gets any
stranger."  He dropped the book on the ground, dangerously close to
Dr. Shockwave's feet.

"Your Majesty," he said, bowing as well as he could.  "We have long awaited
your safe return."

"Yoshi!" said the Queen, picking him up and squeezing him like an oddly
stoic teddy bear.  "Who's your friend?"  She released him, allowing him to
breathe again.

"Tony is an ally of ours.  We have been working with Dr. Shockwave, who,
might I add, left Tony and me stranded in the most boring subdimension 
ever discovered for *ages*..."

"I know your real names," Dr. Shockwave muttered out of the corner of 
his mouth.  Yoshi paled slightly.

"But moving on," he said quickly, pointing to the book.  "What is this?"

The Queen gasped.  "The official rules, as set forth by the Ancient and 
Venerable Masters of Furniture!  Part of them, anyway."

"Who?"

"Old dead guys."

"Oh." Yoshi paused.  "Did you mean what you said about Marlo?" he asked, 
as another spasm of panic passed through those conscious.

"Oh yes," said Queen Radiance, quite cheerfully.  "If the tournament goes
on for too long without a fight, victory automatically goes to the leading
contender.  Since Marlo is technically still the leading contender, he'd win 
not only the Ottoman Empire but also control over all furniture for the next
thousand years.  Really, I'd like to find the fool who trained a dishonorable 
boy such as him in the ways of furniture and give him a stern talking-to."

Yoshi thought it wise to shuffle away at this point, leaving a Fifi-shaped
trail behind him.

The Queen turned her attention to Ikea and the Vortex.  Even unconcious,
Ikea was clutching his chair protectively.  Queen Radiance was leaning down 
to inspect it when something caught her attention.

She pried the chair out of his grip and inspected the symbol emblazoned on
it.  Her face screwed itself into a cutely puzzled look for a moment, then
assumed the traditional squinchy-eyed "D'oh!" expression.

"Oh nooooo," she wailed, smacking her forehead.

"Is something wrong, my Queen?" oozed Dr. Shockwave, anxious to get back
in her graces after insulting her looks.

"I gave him the wrong symbol!  This isn't the ancient Arcameldian word for
'stability,' it's the ancient Ohlmerdian word for 'life'!"  (It is worth
noting that the ancient Ohlmerdian word for "life" literally translates
as "one damn snafu after another.")

Queen Radiance shifted her gaze to the Vortex, which rolled over on its
back and sighed.

"Ano," said Lumi, crawling out of her shrub. "Why not change the symbol?"

The Queen shook her head.  "No, this became a part of the chair when the
chair was built.  It was etched into the very fabric of its chairness
when Ikea constructed it, working the hard, unyielding wood with his 
strong yet gentle hands, drilling and lathing and gouging and rubbing
and oiling and. . . eh heh.  Eh heh heh." 

There was a moment of careful silence.  Queen Radiance reddened slightly.

"That is," she said, "we'd have to build a new chair.  We haven't got time
for that, and I don't know if it would have any effect on the Vortex now 
that it has, um, awakened.  The Flaming Guacamole of Doom is still our
best hope for restoring furniture to this dimension."

The Queen glared at Dr. Shockwave.  "If I'd known you'd make such a hash
out of this, I'd have brought some with me."

Dr. Shockwave shuffled his feet.  "'m sorry," he said.

The Emperor prodded his desecrated weapon with a disconsolate fingertip.
WELL, he sighed, THINGS CAN'T POSSIBLY GET ANY WORSE.  

A soul-scarring howl wound its way out of the palace and floated uneasily
in the air of the garden.

OH DEAR, he said, SOME FOOL HAS LOOSED THE RAVENOUS DUSTBUNNY.

                        *************************

...stalking through the depths of the palace, eyes flashing with the madness
of a spurned godling...

                        *************************

"What the hell is that?!" said Joanie, backing away.  She realized it was 
actually wearing an entire armchair over its head, trailing doilies and 
throw-pillows behind it.

"GWAAAR," it said.

"Dude, someone's been seriously neglecting the vacuuming," said Yarslov.

Joanie grabbed his arm and yanked him away.  "Run now, joke later!" she said,
sprinting down the hall with Yarslov in tow.

"But we can't leave Shelly!"

"Crap!" said Joanie, skidding to a halt and looking behind her.  Shelly 
hadn't moved; she was standing perfectly still, staring at the thing.

"Shelly, come ON!" she yelled.  "Argh, she must be in sho--hey!  Where are 
you going?  Are you insane?"

Yarslov broke out of her grip and lunged back down the hall, cue stick
spinning.  He leapt at the thing's head, but it calmly swatted him out of
the air and into a wall, where he left a comically Yarslov-shaped impression.

Shelly was not in shock.  She knew exactly what this thing was, and where
it stood in relation to her in the grand scheme of life.

It was a target.

"GWAAAR?" it said, as she picked it up by its ankles.

"GWAAAR!" it said, as she swung it against the wall multiple times.  
Unfortunately, she chose the same spot where Yarslov had impacted, so the 
thing's alarmed roars were mixed with his faint sounds of distress.

The wall and the creature gave way at the same time.  The wall merely 
collapsed in the rather boring way favored by unimaginative walls, but the
creature exploded.

The effect was akin to blowing up a room full of 300-year-old feather 
pillows.  Fluff sprayed everywhere, and inhaling became about as serious
a health hazard as never inhaling.

"I feel better," said Shelly.  "Hhhhkkkkh!" she added, as a lump of fuzz
lodged in her throat.

"Nice," said Joanie, who had sensibly clamped her hands over her mouth and
nose.  "That's one way of dealing with it, I suppose."

"The best."   Shelly hacked again and waited for the dust to settle.  "I...
did you hear something?"

"You mean aside from Yarslov groaning in agony?"

It was something. Harry, who had tired of bonking his head against the
wall, came around the corner, bouncing along on his bottom in a way that 
would be seriously painful for anyone sane enough to notice.  He accentuated
each leap with a loud "Poing!"

"I think he's actually getting worse," said Joanie.  Shelly nodded.

Harry poinged up to them, raising huge clouds of dust with every leap.
He didn't seem to notice.

"Poing!" he said, staring brightly at Joanie.

"Do you...think he's trying to tell us something?" she asked.

"Like what?  He's playing with half a deck."

"Poing!" Harry insisted, bouncing urgently.

"What is it, Harry?" said Joanie, leaning down to him.  "Is something wrong?"

"Poing!  Poing poing poing!"

"What?  Old man Peterson fell in the disused mine shaft?"

"Who the hell is old man Peterson?"

"Poing!"

"Good boy!  Take us there!"

"Poing!"

"I'm the only sane one left," Shelly muttered, as Harry poinged through the
hole in the wall, Joanie close behind.  Shelly sighed and followed, stepping
on something soft in the process.

"Ow," said Yarslov.

                        *************************

...intent on the abject destruction of those pitiful worms who sought to
humiliate him, to beat him down *again*...

                        *************************

Rebecca paused momentarily in her one-woman march of destruction to brush 
some shattered fragments of masonry off her clothes, and attempted to get 
her bearings.  She frowned.

"Hey you," she said, grabbing Miss Oeru's arm.  "You know the palace, right?  
Where are we?"

Miss Oeru surveyed the area in growing alarm.

"I...I'm not really sure," she stammered.  "There was more of it standing,
before.  I think we might be near the Lower Great Hall," she ventured.  "Or
possibly the Great Lower Hall.  Or--"

"Right," said Rebecca, not about to be deterred by a little thing like not 
knowing where she was, "all the walls are still standing over this way, so 
let's check it out."

Tony coughed hesitantly.

"Yes?" said Rebecca.

Tony shifted his grip on the television tube.  "Do you think maybe...maybe
we could try the door?"

Rebecca looked at the door approximately three feet to her left.

"Oh.  Okay, I guess.  Fifi!" she bellowed, kicking the door out of its jamb
and partway into the stonework on the other side.

"Thanks," she said.  "That was much easier."

Tony hung his head.

After the demise of several more innocent doors, Rebecca stumbled upon a 
strange masked man.  Literally.  He was lying despondantly on the floor, 
with one arm over a wardrobe.

"You again?" said Tony, as Rebecca picked herself up and prepared to maim.

"Please," said the man, "just tell me how to get out of here.  I've been
searching for the exit for days."

"Who's this guy?" demanded Rebecca.

The masked man rose to his feet and bowed majestically.  "I, madam," he said,
"am Ethan Allen of the Furniture Underground ResIstance Organization, or
FURIO for short."

"Does that mean you're fighting against the Empire?"

"Yes.  Well," admitted Ethan, "theoretically at any rate.  I seem to have my
weapon back, anyway, but we actually spend more time playing bri--"

"Perfect!" said Rebecca, seizing his arm.  "Come with us!"

"But I--"

Tony shook his head.  "It's easier if you just give in," he said.  Miss Oeru
nodded.  "Here," added Tony, as Rebecca bashed another wall.  "Carry this."

Ethan Allen accepted the television tube with a sense of growing unease.

                        *************************

...rejected, despised, mocked by fools, fools who couldn't even fight with
proper weapons, and he'd *showed* them, and so help him he's show them again...

                        *************************

Elsewhere, a dark and puposeful meeting was taking place in a dark and dreary
room, where numerous dark and shady matters were being discussed in a dark
and portentous manner.

It just *looked* like a poker game.

"So vhat next?" asked Sophia.

"I call," said Ken, tossing in a chip.

"Nein, you schtupider pansy, vhat do ve do now?  Der Queen ist gone, der
Emperor ist acting like ein booby, dot Marlo punk ist missing, und ve haven't
made an appearance since himmel only knows vhen."

Jan scratched the side of his nose in thought.  "Eh," he shrugged.

"I think we should just sit back and watch," said Pon, "and support whoever
looks like winning."

"Ach," said Sophia.  "Dot's schtupid.  Der Queen ist back to der bouncy
girl, und now der *real* Queen ist here.  Und she don't like us."

They paused to shudder at the memory of the last tournament, especially
the part with the live carp.

"Do you think the Emperor would forgive us?" Pon asked.

"He still likes me," Ken said smugly.

Sophia scratched her chin, making a sandpapery noise.  "Hmm..."

"Can I play?" asked a new voice, breaking her chain of thought.

Sophia looked at the microwave sitting on the table to her left.  "Don't
be schtupid," she said.  "You don't have any hands."

The unfinished Livewire 2.0 Beta sighed.

                        *************************

"What's a ravenous dustbunny?" asked Lumi, tugging at the Emperor's sleeve.

AN ANCIENT SOMNOLENT ENTITY THAT HAS LAIN DORMANT FOR CENTURIES, AWAITING
THE DAY SOME UNSUSPECTING FOOL WOULD UNLEASH IT TO FEAST UPON THE WEAK AND 
LEAVE THEIR BONES TO DRY AND CRUMBLE IN THE HARSH AND PITILESS WINDS OF 
ETERNITY.

"Oh," said Lumi, squinching her face into a cutely puzzled expression.

A series of low, shuddering whumps echoed from inside, accompanied by a
series of increasingly alarmed roars.

MIND YOU, the Emperor added, IT WASN'T VERY GOOD AT IT.

Meanwhile Ikea, disturbed by the absence of his chair, floated gently back
to the world of wakefulness.  His he sat up.

"My weapon..." he murmured, looking around.

"Here," Queen Radiance said gently.  "I fear I made a slight mistake...  But
nonetheless, I wish to thank you, Ikea, for all you have done on behalf of
the Tibetan Furniture Warrior Dojo.  I just want you to know--"

Whatever she wanted him to know was drowned out by the sound of a thick 
masonry wall collapsing.  Rebecca peered through it into the still gently
smoldering garden.

"I found 'em!" she said.

Fifi and Miss Oeru promptly hid behind Yoshi and Tony, respectively, in an
effort to hide from Rebecca and the Emperor, also respectively.

"Thank goodness," said Dr. Shockwave.  "Did you find the television tube?"

DON'T MIND ME, said the Emperor, I JUST OWN THE PLACE, FEEL FREE TO DESTROY
MY TELEVISION...

Tony gestured to Ethan, who staggered through the hole and set the tube at 
Dr. Shockwave's feet.  Cackling in a distinctly non-mad fashion, he picked 
it up and rushed over to his makeshift workstation on a bench.  As he 
fiddled, Dr. Pfischer recovered from his beating enough to take an interest.

"Ahem," he said.

"What is it?" snapped Dr. Shockwave.  "Can't you see I'm busy?"

"That," Dr. Pfischer pronounced professionally, "will never work.  You've 
got the transverse impacted polarity modulator totally disaligned with the,
the, uh..."

"Calibrated torque displacement nub?"

"Yes!  Exactly."

"Hah!" said Dr. Shockwave, prodding Dr. Pfischer in the chest.  "It hasn't 
*got* a calibrated torque displacement nub!  The last thing I need is advice
from a washed-up has-been like you!"

"Has-been?  You pompous blowhard!"

"Thief!"

"Scoundrel!"

"Incarnation of mediocrity!"

"Pfah!  I'll show you how it's done!"  Dr. Pfischer snatched the portable 
portal generator out of Dr. Shockwave's hands and began tinkering with it.

"Yes, you'll show me how failures are made!" Dr. Shockwave retorted, snatching
it back.

The rest of the gathering watched in puzzlement as the two men grappled for 
control of the device, eventually reaching the point of rolling around on the 
ground and throttling each other.  Occasionally one of them would break 
free long enough to add something to the generator.

"How odd," said Ikea.  "I shall check on Yarslov," he announced over the 
din.  "I fear his companions may have done him some harm."

                        *************************

Ikea was quite right, of course, although this time, at least, the harm was 
unintentional.  Yarslov lifted himself gingerly out of the remnants of the 
wall and the Ravenous Dustbunny.

"Poing!" said Harry, from somewhere inside.

"Oh my God!"

The unfroodiness never stops, thought Yarslov.  He jogged inside as fast as 
his battered body would allow.

Mick's body was lying on a padded crate, for lack of a bed or table, with a 
glucose drip feeding into one arm.  Shelly was standing with her back toward
him, biting her lip; Joanie had her arm around Shelly's shoulders.  Harry 
was just acting like a loon, as usual.  The only other notable feature in the
room was a lump with a sheet over it.

Yarslov attempted to lean on the lump, and was quite surprised when it rolled
away from him.  He thudded to the floor, the sheet clutched in one hand...

There was a collective gasp (except from Mick, of course) as the sheet pulled 
away, revealing...an office chair.  Not just any office chair, either: a well-
crafted, fine-tuned, plush model with six wheels and precision ball bearings.
Truly it was the Masamune of office chairs.

Harry regarded it with awe.  He stretched his hand out to it like Adam 
striving for the touch of God.  Slowly he rose to his feet and sank his 
posterior reverently into the velvet depths.

He blinked.

"My butt hurts," he said.

It was at this point that the Ancient Swivel Warriors made their presence 
known.  They slipped noiselessly from the shadows, circling like sharks 
before a feeding frenzy.

"Ssso," one of them said.  "I sssee the Executive hasss fallen into our 
trap."

"Oh crikey," said Harry.  "And I just got my sanity back, too."

"Hey," said Shelly, "how come you guys all have furniture?"

"Dr. Ubermann has his ways," said the Leader.  "You shall all make excellent
bait for Ikea.  And then, Harry, you shall suffer untold torments at the 
hands of--"

"Phil Donahue," suggested Harry.

"Yes, Phil--no, you fool, the Ancient Swivel Warriors!  Triangular Swivel 
Assault!"

With that, the three of them rushed at Harry, bore him to the ground, and 
messily dismembered him.  That was the plan, at any rate; it went slightly
afoul when one of them veered too close to Joanie, who seized him by the 
neck, dragged him roughly from his chair, swung him like a chandelier, and
loosed him to fly, straight and true, into the wall.  He made a small noise
and went to play with the penguins.

This left the Leader and the one with the problem with his sibilants for 
Harry to face.  He kicked off backwards, into the space where the third 
Ancient Swivel Warrior would have been, forcing the other two to change 
course lest they smack into each other.  Harry then spun around, planted 
both feet on the wall and launched himself at the sibilant one, a veritable 
comet of office furnishing.  The impact made both of them recoil; Harry 
managed to regain control of his chair, but the Swivel Warrior slid backward 
into Yarslov, playing the role of human speed bump.  With agonizing 
ponderousness, his chair slowly toppled, sending him sprawling on the floor.

"Oh sssod," he muttered, attempting to remember how to stand.

Harry and the Leader now circled one another, wheels clacking on the floor.
Clearly the Swivel Warriors had not expected Harry to recover so quickly,
but now the Leader was alert and cautious.  Harry, however, had spent quite
some time using various portions of his body in a manner more appropriate 
for a sledgehammer, and definitely felt it.

"There will be no escape for you, Executive.  Dr. Ubermann has waited too 
long for your head on a pike."

"Doesn't sound like a very appetizing garnish," said Harry.

"Not that kind of pike, you fool," said the Leader.  He launched himself off 
of Mick's crate with one foot, which sent him spinning like a top, legs 
extended, as he rocketed toward Harry.

"Egad!  The Deadly Spinning Death Attack of Doom!  And Death!" cried Harry,
scooting for all he was worth.

While Harry fled in manly fashion, two things of note took place.  First, 
Joanie kicked the struggling Swivel Warrior in a number of sensitive regions,
as he looked like getting up.  Second, Yarslov finally succeded in standing
unaided, and was now testing the discarded swivel chair for heft and balance.

'Any good, mate?' asked Mick.

'Naw,' Yarslov answered.  'It's just not the same.'

'Well, what if...'

Yarslov grinned and set the chair down.  As the Leader cycloned past, 
Yarslov shoved the chair at him with a mighty shout of "ROLLING CHAIR FIRE, 
OR SOMETHING!"  It was quite an impressive sight, as the flaming chair 
hurtled towards its target.  The Leader's ancient mysterious cloak of 
darkness proved to be remarkably non-flame-retardant.  The resultant 
swirling pillar of flame looked very similar to one in the famous scene in 
The Ten Commandments, except that instead of Charlton Heston booming
instructions with cheesy echo effects, this one merely said "Aaaaaaahh!" 
and fled rapidly through the door (which was not open at the time).

"Stop drop and roll, chap!" Harry called after him.  "I think that went
rather well, all things considered," he said, and flashed a Winning Smile(tm).

"Ahem," said Joanie.

"With assistance, of course."

Shelly had remained oddly quiet throughout the whole event.  Joanie stopped
kicking the Swivel Warrior, who had lost consciousness in self-defense some 
time ago, and resumed making soothing noises at her.

"So," said Yarslov.  "What next?"  The four of them looked at Mick's body, 
and a somber silence descended on the room.  Even Harry looked less than 
usually jovial.

The quiet was broken by a distant sound, like a wet finger dragged around
the edge of a crystal glass.  A soft white light filled the room.

The group turned to see a beautiful silver-haired girl in a gauzy white 
dress.  She was hazy, and also floating several feet off the floor.

"Whoa," said Yarslov.  "It's the Mysterious Psychic Chick."

"Who?" chorused the others.

"She shows up in my dreams sometimes and gives me instructions and stuff.  
But that's always been while I was, like, asleep."

"Yarslov," said the Mysterious Psychic Chick.  "The time is near.  The 
Cycle nears its completion, and my wait is nearly over.  The paths of
destiny spilt before us all.  True Love awaits you; you must choose 
between the Lady and the Tiger."

She was met with blank stares.  She wiped a tiny drop of sweat from her 
brow.

"Moving on," she said.  "Yarslov, a true warrior will follow his weapon 
to the ends of the universe, if need be.  Remember that, and--what?"  She 
looked off to her left.

The others followed her gaze, but saw nothing but blank wall space.

"Of course," she said.  "Yarslov, the Ancient and Venerable Masters of 
Furniture present you with this.  Only you can deliver this tome to its
fated owner."  The Mysterious Psychic Chick pulled a slender red volume
from the bookcase strapped to her back and handed it down to Yarslov.

"Uh...why?"

She shrugged.  "I dunno.  Destiny's just weird that way."  The glow 
surrounding her intensified briefly, and then she was gone.

Yarslov peered at the book.  On the cover, in large, ornate letters, 
was written: "WARNINGE: Doe Notte Openne Unlesse You Are A Spiky-Hairred
Tibettanne."  He was, of course, immediately tempted to open it just to 
see what would happen, but he had seen Raiders of the Lost Ark and knew 
full well what could happen to those who trifled with items not meant 
for mortal man to wot of.

"What did she mean by that Lady and the Tiger stuff?" Shelly asked 
suspiciously.

Yarslov looked from her to Joanie and back again.  "I have no idea," he
lied, one arm behind his head.  Mick's pool cue appeared in his hand,
glowing gently.

                        *************************

...beat them with their own weapons, that was the ultimate humiliation, and
still they *dared* oppose him...

                        *************************

"Hah!  It is finished!" exclaimed Dr. Pfischer, gesturing grandly at the
six-foot monstrosity beside him.  "This new, improved, er, thing is now the
most powerful device of its kind in the universe!"

"With gyroscopic balance, a 6-CD changer, a cappucino maker, automated eyebrow
tweezers, an acupressure foot masager, and full three-dimensional holographic 
projection capabilities!" enthused Dr. Shockwave.  "This will revolutionize 
the world of, er, stuff!  The folks at Sharper Image will be beating down our 
doors!"

The two of them posed together in a very dynamic and stupid way.

"Ano," said Queen Radiance.  "But can it open a portal to the Dimension of 
Radiance?"

Doctors Pfischer and Shockwave blinked.  "Eh heh," they said in unison.

"You had to interfere, didn't you?"

"You added the clock radio, not me!"

Both of them yelped as a lightbulb exploded at their feet.  Queen Radiance
glowered dangerously at them.

"We need a portal generator," she growled, "not a conversation piece.  Take 
that *thing* apart and get cracking.  We don't have time to waste with 
random acts of mad science."

"We're not mad," they mumbled, then wisely decided not to say anything more
when the Queen drew another lightbulb.

IT'S SO HARD TO FIND GOOD GENIUSES THESE DAYS, sighed the Emperor.

"Tell me about it."

"Er, excuse me," said Ethan Allen.  "Did you say the Dimension of Radiance?
Only sometimes I pick up these dimensional rifts in my wardrobe.  Usually
I just get talking beavers and things, but sometimes--"

Queen Radiance seized him by the shoulders.  "You mean it?!" she said, shaking
him.  "Bless you!"

Somewhat woozily, Ethan pulled his wardrobe out of Furntiure space and set it
down.  He opened it, revealing a beaver.

"Pardon me," it said.  "Could you tell me the way to--"  Ethan quickly slammed
the door.  He opened it again, revealing a 50-tentacled, 12-eyed monstrosity
which burbled and reached for the Queen.  He slammed the doors again and 
leaned on them heavily until the wardrobe stopped rocking.

"Ano," said Queen Radiance, as he prepared to open the doors a third time.
"Maybe we should just wait for. . ."

She slowed and stopped as a lifeless street apeared in the wardrobe.  "That'll
work," she said.  "All right," she said, "who's armed?"

Yoshi stepped forward, shaking off Fifi.  Rebecca immediately noticed this
and pounced.

"You're the only one?" asked the Queen, over the sound of brawling.  Yoshi
shrugged.

"Oh well.  It shouldn't be too dangerous, I suppose.  The current furniture
situation should stay stable as long as the Vortex is. . . asleep, but I 
don't know how long that will be.  We'd best hurry; if the wardrobe vanishes,
it will be hard to predict when we'll be able to return."

Yoshi's faint bishounen smirk became slightly worried; he'd had his fill of 
boring subdimensions lately.  Before he could respond, the Queen had seized
his arm and leapt into the wardrobe.

Those remaining observed the developing Fifi/Rebecca melodrama with interest.

"Really, my dear," Fifi was saying nervously, "I do wish you'd tell me what
the matter is so we could discuss this like the rational adults that we are."

"Fifi!  You bastard!  You stole my lingerie designs, yes, and I could forgive
you for that... but you left me for that pink-haired buffoon!  How could you?
After all we went through?"

Seven eyebrows shot up at once.  "I always thought she was kind of, you know,
masculine..." Tony murmured.

Rebecca collapsed into sobs.  As at the moment she was on top of Fifi, the 
result looked more than slightly compromising.

HAS ANYONE GOT A VIDEO CAMERA? the Emperor wondered.

"How could you run off to France and. . .and become a woman?!" she said, 
between wet, porpoise-like gasps.

Nine additional eyebrows shot up.  The last two belonged to Hugh, who had 
been walking close by and overheard the phrase "pink-haired buffoon."

"You...you...you...," said Hugh, turning several shades of green at once.

"Oh, Hugh darling, could you possibly lend me a hand?  I seem to be stuck."

"You...that means I..."

"Yes, moving on, a little help please?" said Fifi, blushing.

"Buh... Bah..."

"WHY?!" sobbed Rebecca.

The Emperor settled down for an entertaining show and asked: DR. PFISCHER,
DOES THAT THING MAKE POPCORN, BY ANY CHANCE?

                        *************************

Yarslov placed the pool cue in Mick's hands and stood back.  Both of them
began glowing, and Yarslov sank to his knees.

"Whoa," he said.  "My mind's, like, empty again."  Shelly and Joanie 
forebore to comment.

Mick's eyelids fluttered.  Shelly caught herself holding her breath, and 
immediately commmanded herself to stop.  It wasn't as though she cared or
anything.  Ha ha.

With great uncertainty, Mick sat up and prodded himself.  Being back in 
control of a body was an unsual feeling.

"Ow," he said, as he discovered a large bruise.

"I'm glad you're okay," Shelly heard herself say through gritted teeth.

"Oh, nothin' for you to worry your pretty-wetty head over, Shei--Shelly.  
It'll take more than a coma to put ol' Mick out of commission."  Gingerly
he swung his legs off of the crate and faced her.

"I know I haven't been there for you and yer ma like I should've," he 
began.

"If you say anything to make me cry, I'll shove your head through your 
ribcage."

"That's my girl," said Mick, and drew her into a bear hug.

"Mmph g'n tf kll yff."

They jolted apart as Yarslov blew his nose with a shuddering HORNK.  He
wiped his eyes.  "That's so touching," he said.  "Makes me wish my parents
were around..."

"I'm sorry," said Joanie, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh no," he said, "they're not dead or anything.  They're still running the 
fish-gutting plant back in Sweden."

"It seems that things are almost back to normal," said a voice from behind.
Yarslov turned to see Ikea silhouetted in the hole Shelly had made.

"Ikea!  Man, we could've used you earlier.  Those swivel dudes came back
again."

"I endeavored to locate you as quickly as possible.  It was simple, once I
stumbled upon Harry's distinctive track through the dust."  Ikea bowed to
Harry and Mick.  "It is good that you have rejoined us," he said.

"Good to be back, mate," said Mick.

"Oh," said Yarslov, "and some Ancient Vegetable Masters of Furniture wanted
you to have this."  He gave Ikea the book, and attempted surreptitiously to
peer over his shoulder.

Ikea opened the ancient tome of WARNINGE: Doe Notte Openne Unlesse You Are 
A Spiky-Hairred Tibettanne and read it.  This did not take long, as it 
consisted of only seven words.

When he had finished reading them, the book disintegrated with a little flash
and blew away.

"This bodes of forewarning," said Ikea.

                        *************************

The Dimension of Radiance was not, as has been previously pointed out, all
that radiant.  The sky was a dusty grey-red-brown, like sunset in smog.  
Marble streets were cracked, graceful columns toppled, polished roofs 
collapsed into ruin.  One almost expected to see a clump of tumbleweed
roll through.

Queen Radiance surveyed the remains of her city.  "It has been a long time,"
she said sadly.

"Indeed," said Yoshi, clenching his fists.  "We have not fared well in your
absence, my Queen."

"It could not be avoided," the Queen sighed.  "The Emperor was too powerful
for me to defeat in any other way."

The two of them stared out over the ruins, remembering them as they once 
were.

"It was my choice, Yoshi," the Queen said at last.  "There was nothing you
could have done to save me.  This way.  The Guacamole calls to me."

They walked for some time without speaking, until finally Yoshi broke the
silence.  "My Queen," he said, "I must ask...  What happened after that
battle?"

"I was able to seal my essence inside a seed.  An avocado pit, actually."
She shrugged.  "What can I say?  It was the only thing handy.  Evidently
my counterpart was the result of some scrap of me making it into the cycle
of reincarnations.  Or something.  Anyway, Dr. Shockwave must've planted the 
pit and managed to convert it into a Flaming Avacado of Doom by using 
technology developed by his colleague."

"You mean Mr.--"

"Look!"

"What?" said Yoshi, whipping out a CD rack.

"That used to be my favorite coffee shop."

Yoshi, harnessing all the powers of the bishounen, managed to avoid falling
down and twitching.

Following Queen Radiance's mysterious Guacamole Sense for another five minutes
led them to Dr. Shockwave's lab, where the remains of the Flaming Avacado
of Doom were still splattered over most exposed surfaces.

Yoshi grimaced.  "How were you planning on transporting this stuff?" he 
asked.

Queen Radiance frowned, scanning the room.  She picked up Yarslov's discarded
Frito bag and began scooping guacamole into it.  When she had it half full,
she twisted the bag off and licked her fingers.

"Want some?" she said.

"Er, your Majesty...  Hasn't that been sitting out in the open for several
days?"

The Queen paused to consider this.  She didn't think Flaming Guacamole of 
Doom could spoil, but all the same she spat it out.

"Well, let's go," she said.  "You know," she added, as they headed out the
door, "that was almost too easy."

Both of them halted abruptly.  They exchanged a look crammed with meaning.
"It's never too easy," they chorused.

"Run?" said Yoshi.  The Queen nodded, and they took off at a sprint.

And behind them, the Flaming Fruitfly of Doom took flight, enraged at the 
theft of its prime food source.

                        *************************

...Ikea would pay, and the Queen would pay, and the Emperor would pay, and...

                        *************************

"We should return now," said Ikea.  "I fear matters will soon come to a head."

Ikea and Yarslov lifted Harry's chair over the rubble around the hole, and 
Shelly and Joanie helped support Mick, who was still rather shaky on his legs.
The six of them walked/rolled/staggered back in the direction of the garden,
which seemed to have become the unofficial gathering place for most of the
palace.

A few minutes later, the Ottoman Empire's much-stressed doctor walked back to
his makeshift ward, a copy of today's newspaper under one arm and a cup of 
coffee in one hand.  Things had been blissfully calm recently; injuries dropped
dramatically once Marlo got tired of beating people up, and really all he had 
to do now was sit around and watch his sole patient, who didn't ask much.

He first realized something was wrong when he saw the door splintered and 
hanging haphazardly from its hinges.  Then he peered inside.  The patient was
gone, and much of the room was in shambles.  There was also an enormous hole
in the far wall, and two men out cold on the floor.

The doctor dropped his coffee.

"I should have been a dental hygienist," he said.

                        *************************

After the bludgeoning and the weeping, Rebecca returned to bludgeoning and 
then tried bludgeoning and weeping simultaneously.  This was by far the most
entertaining, as her tears tended to interfere with her accuracy.

"Really," said Fifi, frantically dodging a rabid flurry of punches, "we can
talk this out!  Maybe get some counseling or something?  Hugh!"

"Gah... Geh..."

"You insensitive jerk!" Rebecca yelled.  "I won't stop until you've felt every
twinge and stab of pain I did!"

"I could use some help here, Hugh!"

"...I need some air...," said Hugh, wandering vaguely away.

Fifi played a desperate card.  "My God!" she gasped, face suffused with horror.
She pointed shakily past Rebecca's shoulder.  "It's Martha Stewart!  And she 
has your curtains!"

"WHAT?" roared Rebecca, whirling around.  By the time she realized she'd been
had by the oldest trick in the book, Fifi was a pair of skidmarks on the 
ground.  Rebecca sank to her knees.

Fortunately for the easily bored, at this point Yoshi and Queen Radiance
erupted from the wardrobe.

"Shutthedoorshutthedoorshutthedoor!" said the Queen.

She and Yoshi slammed the wardrobe shut and leaned against it.  The wardrobe
rocked violently, and there was a loud, wet *splat* from inside it.

"We *pant* got the *pant* Guacamole *pant*wheeze*," said the Queen, handing
the Frito bag to Dr. Shockwave.

"Very good," said Dr. Shockwave, peering into the bag.  "Now, er..."

The Queen and Yoshi stopped panting long enough to fix him with a thoroughly
hostile glare.

"That had better be a good 'er,' Doctor," rasped the Queen.

"Well, I, uh, that is, I'm not entirely sure just how to use this to stabilize
the Vortex.  I mean, it can't very well eat it, after all."

"Feh," said Dr. Pfischer, snatching the bag.  "You're overanalyzing, as usual."
He upended the bag over the Vortex, and the Flaming Guacamole of Doom landed
on it with a solid *glop*.

The Vortex began shuddering slightly.  "Warning," it chirped.  "Reality index
is fluctuating.  Normalcy levels rapidly approaching dimensional standard.
Please return your seatbacks and tray tables to the upright and locked 
position, and thank you for choosing FurnitureSpace."

The shuddering increased drastically, causing everyone to draw away from it 
and find something solid to hide behind.  The Vortex leapt high in the air,
abruptly retracted its limbs, and slammed hard into the ground.

When it became apparent that it was not going explode in a needlessly fatal
fashion, the assorted furniture warriors emerged cautiously from hiding,
like small nocturnal rodents after an owl has flown overhead.  Dr. Pfischer
walked up to it and calmly pressed the OFF button (which had been cleverly
labled "PRESS FOR A SWIFT KICK IN THE GROIN").  The Vortex shut down with a 
little sigh.

And there was much rejoicing.

Then things got dangerous, as everyone hauled out their weapons and started
swinging them more or less at radom, for the sheer joy of being able to do
so. 

CONGRATULATIONS, DR. PFISCHER, said the Emperor, cradling his de-Nerfed 
ottoman.  YOU'VE DONE SOMETHING RIGHT FOR ONCE.

"Er, your Majesty," said Dr. Pfischer, eyes swiveling nervously, "shouldn't 
we be preparing to resume the tournament?"  

THE WHAT?  OH YES, THAT THING.  The Emperor also looked shifty for a moment.
EXCUSE ME FOR A MOMENT, he announced.  I HAVE TO SEE A MAN ABOUT A HORSE, OR
SIMILAR.

                        *************************

On the 324th floor of ScumCo Industries, someone was unhappy.  Four someones,
actually.

"I cannot believe that the three of you have failed *again*," raged Dr. 
Ubermann.  He regarded his minions harshly.  One had his head completely
bandaged, one held an icepack between his legs with one hand and on top of
his head with another, and their mighty leader sat covered with soot in a 
badly melted chair.

"It wasss--"

"Silence!  You promised me the Executive!  I *do* have other things to worry
about, you know!  This is very distracting!  And bad for my blood pressure!"

"I did prepare one last surprise for him," said the Leader.  "A backup plan,
for just such a contingency..."

                        *************************

...he felt the doors of FurnitureSpace open once again, and that was fine,
it would only make his task easier, none of them could equal him...

                        *************************

Ikea and his friends returned to the garden just in time to see Ethan Allen's
wardrobe rock gently and disgorge a distinguised older gentleman in simple
Tibetan garb.

"Daddy!" cried Lumi, tackling him.  "You missed all the fun.  There were 
ninjas and ice cream makers and lots of really nifty fights and Lumi-chan
got to be eeeeevil and it was fun, but then the nice lady who looks like
me gave me some ice cream so I stopped, and there was this mean guy named
Marlo who beat everyone up but he's missing now."

Venerable Master Oakcraft blinked.

"Whoa," said Yarslov.  "Most honorable sensei, and stuff."

"Sensei," said Ikea, bowing low.

"CALL ME FATHER!" Venerable Master Oakcraft said through the Holy Venerable
Megaphone.  "Ikea, where have you been?  I've been seeking you with the 
Tibetan Furniture Meld for days.  Speaking of which, this does not look like
France."

"No, Sensei.  It is the Ottoman Empire."

"The what?"

"Allow me to explain," said Queen Radiance, sliding gracefully in front of
Venerable Master Oakcraft.  "And while we're at it, do I understand that you
are Ikea's father?  I have something I would like to discuss with you in 
private.  May I say that you seem extremely knowledgable in the 
interconnectedness of all furniture?  Anyway..."

The Queen lead Venerable Master Oakcraft off to a secluded corner, where
they talked for a good fifteen minutes, often with complicated hand gestures.
Ikea watched them calmly.

"Ano, oniichan," said Lumi, "what are they talking about?"

"I expect we shall know in due time," said Ikea.

And indeed they did.  When Venerable Master Oakcraft returned, he did not 
mince words.  "Ikea," he said, "I want you to marry Queen Radiance."

"Way to go, Ikea-dude," said Yarslov, giving him a significant nudge.

For the first time in the memory of anyone, Ikea's jaw dropped.  "But--but I,"
he said.

"Now now," said Venerable Master Oakcraft.  "You are my eldest child, and the
dojo will pass to you some day.  You must find a wife some time, or else the
way of Furniture will surely die out in our world.  You cannot allow that to
happen, can you?"

"Well, no...," said Ikea.

"Besides," said the Queen, sidling up to him, "there are other benefits that
have to be taken into account.  For one thing, you would never be without a
worthy sparring partner.  And for another...."  The Queen leaned over and 
whispered into his ear for some time.

Ikea's eyebrow twitched fifteen times in rapid succession.

"I...must meditate on this," he mumbled.

"Of course," Queen Radiance said brightly.  "You do that.  Everyone, may I
have your attention?  It looks like things have finally settled down a bit,
and while I'm sure you're all delighted to have your furniture back, please
do try to keep the grievous bodily harm to a minimum.  I suggest you all 
return to your rooms and rest up.  We'll meet in the arena tomorrow morning."

"Why, what are we going to do tomorrow?" asked Lumi.

"The same thing we do every tournament.  Decide the fate of the universe."

                        *************************

Marlo emerged from a forgotten staircase.  He'd climbed 53 flights of stairs
in his ascent from the basement, and was in an even worse mood than usual.
He watched peevishly as that pompous gasbag who thought he ran the place
ducked furtively into the throne room.  HIS throne room.

The Vengeance of Marlo would start here.

                        *************************

It was good to be back in the throne room.  He'd missed his dark and brooding
Throne of Evil during those wretched days when Dark Queen Irradiance had
been polishing it with her hyperglycemic fundament, and that Marlo brat surely
did not have the tastes necessary to appreciate a proper throne.  But then,
Marlo probably did not have the taste to appreciate anything more elevated 
than mud wrestling.

The Emperor fumbled on the arms of the throne until there was a faint
<click>, and the secret panel on the back slid away to reveal a small,
irregularly-shaped hole, possibly in the wood or possibly in the fabric
of reality itself.  The Emperor withdrew a massive keyring from his pocket
and began rooting through the keys.

FRONT GATE...BACK GATE...SAFE-DEPOSIT BOX, he muttered.  AH, HERE WE ARE,
KEYS TO THE WORLD OF DARKNESS.  I KNEW THEY WERE HERE SOMEWHERE.  He inserted
the key into the hole and turned it with a faint but ominous crackle.  The
light in the room lowered drastically.

O DOMINI NIGRI, he began, ANTGRAY UNTOAY EMAY--OH, SCREW THE LATIN. DARKEST 
FORCES OF FURNITURE, GRANT UNTO ME, MIGHTIEST OF WARRIORS, THE POWER TO 
CRUSH ALL THOSE BEFORE ME AS WORMS BEFORE A RHINO IN STEEL-TOED BOOTS!  I,
HOLDER OF THE KEYS TO THE REALM OF DARKNESS, COMMAND THEE IN THE NAME OF THE
EMPIRE!

For a moment, nothing seemed to happen.  Then, in a truly impressive feat
of lighting, black fire began to flow across the Emperor's body, rippling
and scudding like the madness of hell.  No one could claim the Emperor was
ever a small man, but he seemed to be growing still more immense.

BWA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA! said the Emperor.  BWAAAA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAA!
WE SHALL SEE WHO MAY STAND AGAINST THE MIGHT OF--

"HEY!"

WHAT IS IT, INSOLENT WHELP? the Emperor demanded, turning to face his 
addressor.  OH.  IT'S YOU.  AGAIN.

"Damn straight it's me," said Marlo, wielding a coat rack.  "The most powerful
furniture warrior ever.  The Marlo is back in action, and he's ready to kick
ass and take--"

No one found out what Marlo was there to take, because at that moment the 
Emperor lowered his sofa quite forcefully on Marlo's head.

"Ow," said Marlo.  "You can't do that!  I'm still in charge around here!"

FEH.  YOU NEVER UNDERSTOOD THE POWER *HHHHH-PHHHRRR* OF THE DARK SIDE.  YOU
HAVE NO HOPE AGAINST ME NOW.  LEARN, YOU GIBBERING TWIT, THE TRUE STRENGTH
OF MY EMPIRE.  OTTOMAN HELLFIRE!

With a casual flick of the Ottoman of Doom, the Emperor sent a stream of 
squirming dark flames directly into Marlo.  Fazed but not out, Marlo 
somersaulted forward and drove his coat rack into the Emperor's stomach, 
causing him to lean over, wheezing.

YOUR PERSISTANCE IS IMPRESSIVE, BUT ULTIMATELY FUTILE, he boomed, and swatted
Marlo with the Sofa.  He bounced off the far wall and landed hard on the floor.
The Emperor picked him up and wadded him into a roughly spherical object, then
tossed him casually into an armoire, which he locked.

"Mmph mmph mmph!  Mmmph!" protested Marlo.

MY, MY.  SUCH LANGUAGE.  Casually, with hardly a care in the world, the Emperor
tossed the armoire into FurnitureSpace.

                        *************************

The next morning started in a deceptively relaxed fashion.  Ikea woke up
slightly before dawn, or whatever passed for dawn in this eldritch dimension
of pain and darkness, and began to steel himself for the day ahead.

The starkness of Ikea's room was a comfort to him.  It was a comfortable pool
of stability in an ever-maddening world.  He folded his legs in the prescribed 
position and meditated on recent happenings.

Marriage.  Marriage was an unexpected turn.  It was a bit sudden, perhaps; 
he'd really planned on meeting a nice girl fluent in the ways of furniture,
and maybe after five or six years of dating they could consider marriage as 
a possibility for the future.  But for all practical purposes, he'd known
Queen Radiance for aproximately one day.  On the other hand, could he really
refuse the wishes of his sensei?  And the good of the dojo?

These were weighty matters indeed, and Ikea was spared further meditation 
on them by a polite knock at the door.  He rose to open it, and raised a 
questioning eyebrow.

"Excuse me," said Sophia, "but I vas vondering if perhaps ve could be 
havink a little talk."

Although he did not trust the situation, he did not wish to be an ungracious
host.  "Come in," he said, bowing.

Sophia entered, trailed by Jan, Ken, Pon, and a loudly protesting voice from
somewhere in the hallway.  She ignored it and closed the door.

"This is rather awkvard, ja?" she said.  "But ve are havink to kill you now,
if ve vant to stay in good graces mit der Emperpor."  She brandished her sofa
and charged like an angry rhino, bellowing "Hoiyotoho!" at the top of her 
lungs.

Before charging in after her, Ken reluctantly handed Pon a large sum of money.

                        *************************

The arena was packed.  Every warrior in the tournament (almost, anyway)
stared down at Hugh, who for once did not feel like making a ridiculously
long speech.  He'd partaken liberally the previous night, and currently his
head felt like it had been the nesting place of some particularly untidy
bird.  

Fifi simpered at him from the sidelines.  He tried to avoid thinking about
...her...for the moment, and focused on announcing.  He rallied enough to
ramble briefly about the ancient Mesopotamians for no apparent reason.

The audience groaned collectively and attempted to tune him out.  Many of
them found the following exchange highly diverting:

"Ah, mia bella," said Leonardo, oozing up to Shelly and laying a hand on
her shoulder.  "I'm so glad you're still--" *THUNK*

Shelly extracted her desk from Leonardo's face.  "Don't touch me," she said.

"I thall thertainly bear that in mind for future referenth," Leonardo lisped
woozily.  Then he collapsed.

"Nice one," said Yarslov.

Unfortunately this was not enough to occupy the audience for the rest of 
Hugh's speach.  He seemed to have found a second wind about ten minutes in,
and much of the audience was beginning to glaze over by the time he started
wrapping up.

"...invention of cuneiform.  And now, for our final event....actually, I have
no idea," Hugh confessed.  "We don't have any fights scheduled or anything..."

"Don't worry," said Queen Radiance, walking up to him.  "I imagine that the
Emperor should be making a dramatic entrance right about--"

GREETINGS, PITIFUL VERMIN.  THE TIME HAS COME TO FINISH THIS.  MARLO HAS 
ALREADY FALLEN TO MY WRATHFUL...WRATH!  THE END IS NIGH!

The audience murmured thoughtfully, as startled audiences are wont to do.

"Er, actually," said Dr. Pfischer, "isn't it too soon?  I thought this was a
double elimination tournament."

"Hey, yeah," said Yarslov.  "We never did find out how this thing was set up."

"It doesn't really matter," said Yoshi, "since half the fighters haven't been
eliminated anyway."

"I always thought everyone had to fight everyone else, and then the finalists
would be decided with some sort of arcane and complex point system," said
Hugh.

OH BUGGER ALL THAT, I WANT TO TROUNCE SOMEONE.  JUST PICK WHOEVER YOU THINK
HAS A CHANCE OF REPRESENTING YOUR WRETCHED TIBETAN SCHOOL AGAINST ME.  HOW 
ABOUT...IKEA?

The audience whispered amongst itself, discussing Ikea's qualifications as a
champion, including the most important one: he was not there to object.

GOOD, THAT'S SETTLED, said the Emperor.  IKEA IT IS.  ER...ANYONE NOTICE
ANYTHING DIFFERENT ABOUT ME? he asked hopefully.

"*bzzt* Ikea," the PA system announced, "Ikea of the Tibetan Furit*bzzt* 
Warriors Dojo, please report to the *bzzt*rena immediately.  You have a match.
Ikea, please *bzzt* to the arena."

Time passed.

"It's not like Ikea to be late," said Yarslov.  "Maybe something majorly uncool
happened?"

"This is indeed worrying," said Venrable Master Oakcraft.  "Yarslov, why don't
you go look for him?"

"Wai!" said Lumi.  "Lumi-chan will go, too!"

Harry, Joanie, and Shelly also agreed to help.  Shelly and Joanie went in one
direction,  Harry and Lumi in another, and Yarslov ran to check Ikea's room.

Outside his door was a microwave on a small pushcart.  "The one you seek is 
not here," it said somberly.

"Whoa," said Yarslov, peering at it.  "Are you one of those psychic destiny
forecasting things too?"

"Uh...sure," said Livewire 2.0 Beta.

"Righteous," said Yarslov.  "But...don't I hear fighting in there?"

"That is only a figment of your imagination."

"Oh.  Thanks," said Yarslov, running to catch up with Harry and Lumi.  What a
smart talking microwave, he thought.

                        *************************

Damn furniture.  It was a stupid weapon anyway.

                        *************************

Time passed.

The Emperor twiddled his thumbs.

Time continued to pass.

DUM DI DEE DOO...LA LA LA...

Time, not unexpectedly, still continued to pass.

RIGHT, said the Emperor.  HE'S GOT FIVE MINUTES.  IF HE'S NOT HERE THEN, THE
VICTORY WILL DEFAULT TO ME, AND EARTH SHALL BECOME BUT AN EXTENSION OF MY
OWN MALEVOLENT REIGN.  BWA HA HA.

Time, in a breathtaking show of unoriginality, passed.

Queen Radiance conferred quietly with Yoshi, who had Thee Ruelles offe thee
Furrnichurre Warriorrse Tournie, Volume 5: Specialle Ruelles and Appendices
open on his lap.

"But your Majesty, I cannot allow you to put yourself in such danger again,"
he said.  "Another thousand years without you could--"

"Yoshi, this must be done.  My fate is less important than that of the earth."

TEN...NINE...EIGHT...SEVEN...

"There is no time for debate," said the Queen.  "WAIT!"

...FIVE...OH, WHAT NOW?

"I will fight in his stead," declared the Queen, leaping into the ring.

I DON'T THINK THAT'S LEGAL.

"Actually," said Yoshi, examining the book, "according to Chapter LXVII, 
Section VI, Paragraph 19, Subparagraph 4, Clause 12, Subset 249, Nodule--

GET ON WITH IT!

"Ahem... 'In the event that a Vortex should disturb the natural course of the
tournament, and that the chosen champion of either one side or the other 
should fail to appear for the final showdown for reasons mysterious--'" Yoshi
looked at the audience, who nodded that yes, this was indeed mysterious--"'the
place of the champion may be taken voluntarily by a spouse, fiancÈ(e) or other
close relative.'"

"You heard him," said Queen Radiance brightly.

BUT YOU ARE NOT...

Queen Radiance giggled.  "I proposed yesterday.  Let's go."

Yoshi clenched his fists.

                        *************************

Ikea, meanwhile, was in a rather sticky situation.  Literally, as Pon had 
begun flinging melted transparencies at his feet.

He had done well early on--Ikea managed to crack Jan's table in half with a
Tibetan Furnture Slash, and the top half had fallen on Jan's head, knocking
him unconscious.  Now, however, Pon was intent on trapping him, Sophia was
leaping around like a rabbit on a pogo stick in an effort to crush him, and
Ken just twriled his scissors ominously every time he attempted to dash for
an open space.  He was beginning to tire.

It was a risky move that he tried next, but he was getting desperate.  He 
allowed Pon to form a puddle of hot plastic around his feet.  Sophia, seeing
this as a break, leapt high into the air, holding multiple sofas above her
head.  "KYAAAAA!" she yelled, bearing down on...Ikea's sandles.  He sprang 
out of them at the last second, causing Sophia to crash partway through the
floor.

"Ach!  Schtop mit der plastic goop!" she yelled.  "I'm stuck!"

"Oopsie," said Pon, before a Tibetan Furniture Slash caused her photocopier
to explode.  "Heeeeey!  That was mean," she pouted.  "I'm gonna go tell my
boss!"

"It looks like you are my last obstacle," Ikea said to Ken, who merely 
twirled his shears.

"Tibetan Furniture Slash!" Ikea yelled, which turned out to be a dangerous
choice of attack.  Ken calmly delfected the disk of energy with the blades
of his weapon, sending it caroming wildly off the walls.  Ikea dropped to 
the ground and covered his head as the ki bounced around.  Ken would have
been well advised to do the same, as a particularly close pass by his head
set his carefully maintained coiffure ablaze.

"Aaah!" he screamed, sticking his head in Ikea's washbasin.  "My hair!  I
must find a mirror!" he exclaimed, and fled the room.

Ikea bowed to Sophia and the unconscious Jan, and ran to the arena as fast
as his feet would carry him.

"...Vell DAT vas anticlimactic."

                        *************************

The tension in the arena was almost unbearable.  The Queen and the Emperor
were flinging high-powered attacks like they were going out of style, but
so far no one had scored a hit.  Yoshi was gripping the arms of his seat
so hard he seemed to be in danger of crushing them.

"Uh...you okay?" asked Tony.

"It's going to happen again," Yoshi said quietly.

"What?"

"The Queen sacrificed herself to defeat the Emperor last time.  And if 
something isn't done I know she'll do it again.  Come on.  Our only hope
is if we can sever the Emperor's connection to the world of Darkness."

"How do we do that?"

"I don't know," said Yoshi, rising from his seat.  "So we'd better hurry."

Down in the ring, both opponants had retreated to assess each other.  Without
warning, the Emperor charged forward.

SOFA QUAKE! he bellowed, slamming his sofa into the ground.  The shockwaves
radiated out, knocking Queen Radiance to the ground.

"Radiance Flash!" she yelled, as he raised his weapon to crush her.  He 
dropped it and clutched his eyes.  Queen Radiance lost no time in setting 
the sofa on fire.

THAT, he snarled, WAS A SACRED ARTEFACT OF THE EMPIRE.  MY GRANDMOTHER KNITTED
IT, YOU KNOW.

Queen Radiance shrugged, bouncing to her feet.  "Oops," she said.  "Strobe 
Flare!"

Most of the audience had given up trying to watch by this point.  No only was
the tension too much to bear, the alternating bursts of blinding light and
absolute blackness were enough to melt one's retinas.  But the sounds of the
fight suggested that the Queen was getting tired.

LONG HAVE I AWAITED THIS DAY, said the Emperor, finally managing to land a 
blow with his ottoman.  Queen Radiance stumbled and fell again. NOW AT LAST
I SHALL BE THE ONE TO TRIUMPH!

The Queen barely managed to roll away in time as he brought the ottoman down.
DAMMIT, HOLD STILL!

"I still have one ace," she murmured, rising to her feet once again.  "Sorry,
Ikea.  Maybe next millenium..."

                        *************************

"This should be good," said Dr. Ubermann.

"Oh, indeed," said the Leader.  "The timing is perfect.  He should be in the
arena now, which means that we'll be rid of both the Executive and a large 
number of his obnoxious friends.  Number Three, press the button."

The Ancient Swivel Warrior who was not the Leader and had no distinguishing
speach impediment pressed the button.

                        *************************

"Ikea!" called Yarslov.  "Yo, Ikea!  Dude, this is majorly bogus."

"Sure is," said Harry.  "Hey, maybe he went back to his room?"

Yarslov shrugged.  "Worth a shot, I guess.  Hey, maybe if we just knock on
doors--no, actually, let's not."

"Ano, Harry," said Lumi, "did you know you have a thing with glowing red
numbers on it taped to your chair?"

"What?" said Harry.

Lumi pulled a small black metal sphere from the underside of Harry's chair 
and handed it to him.  It beeped softly every now and then.  There was a red 
LCD display screen, which said:

-42-

*beep*

-41-

*beep*

-40-

Uh-oh.

"ScumCo Brand Chair Bomb?!" Harry read.  "Aaaaaah!  Get rid of it!"

Destiny held its breath.

Yarslov took the bomb, tossed it in the air like a baseball, and swatted it 
with his beach chair.  It flew down the hall, banked off a wall, and dropped
down a flight of stairs.

                        *************************

One level lower, Joanie rested her chandelier on the floor.  "Where could he
be?" she sighed.

"Running off before a fight doesn't sound like Ikea," Shelly agreed.  "Do you
think maybe he's at the arena by now?"

"I dunno.  But we could look forever in this place and still never find him.
Maybe we should head back..."  Joanie looked down as something tinkled against
the crystals of her chandelier.  She picked it up.

-29-

*beep*

-28-

"Yaaaaaah!"  Joanie tossed it to Shelly, who batted at it with a schooldesk.  
It dropped to the floor and bounced about fifteen feet before falling into
an air vent in the floor and rattling away to parts unknown.

                        *************************

"Hey Yoshi, wait up," Tony complained.

"We don't have time to dally," said Yoshi.

"But you don't even know where you're going!"

"This is true," admitted Yoshi.  "But I suspect the Emperor would keep it
near him at all times.  I believe his quarters are this way."

Something small but heavy-looking dropped out of an air vent, bounced off
Tony's lampshade, and bopped Yoshi on the head.

"Pretty lights," Yoshi said vaguely, staring at it.

"Yoshi?"

-17-

*beep*

"Yoshi?"

-16-

*beep*

-15-

<blink>

Yoshi turned and flung the thing as far away from him as he could.  This being
one of the more M. C. Escheresque portions of the palace, it fell *up* into
another ventilation duct.

                        *************************

In the Emperor's empty throne room, a small black sphere dropped from a vent
directly above the throne and landed neatly on the Emperor's royal tushie
cushion, right side up and with the LCD display facing out.  It seemed to 
be to be grinning smugly, if such a thing were possible.

Destiny breathed out.

-5-

*beep*

-4-

*beep*

-3-

                        *************************

Ikea burst into the arena just in time to see Queen Radiance pick herself up
off the ground one final time.  She straightened regally.

"So be it," she said.  "HOLY SELF-IMMOLATING LI--"

"NO, NOT THAT!" gasped the audience, and then the entire arena shuddered 
faintly with the force of a distant *BOOM*.  A soft rain of plaster wafted
from the ceiling.

The Emperor looked puzzled for a moment.  Then he started shrinking.

WHAT?  MY LINK WITH THE WORLD OF DARKNESS HAS BEEN DESTROYED!  NO!  HOW CAN
THIS BE?  I AM INVIN--NO, WAIT, I'M NOT GOING TO SAY THAT...

Queen Radiance suddenly looked a lot more intimidating.

OH, POOP.

[The remainder of this passage has been censored to protect sensitive readers.
But let's just say that it involves what could be construed as an *extremely*
ecchi use for a halogen bulb.]

A soft white glow suffused the arena.  The Mysterious Psychic Chick appeared
above the ring in a bubble of light, and descended slowly until her feet
touched the floor.

"It is decided," she said.  "The Emperor has accepted the challenge of Queen
Radiance and lost.  The Ottoman Empire will remain sealed away for the next
1000 years."

YEAH, YEAH, RUB IT IN, groaned the Emperor.

"Now," she said, "there is one final formality.  Ikea, come."

Ikea threaded his way down to the central arena.  He bowed.

"Ikea, you have been chosen as champion of the earth.  It is both an honor and
a responsibility.  Do you accept it?"

"I shall do my best," he said.

"Very well," she said, smiling warmly.  "I am the Arbiter of Furniture.  The
Ancient and Venerable Masters have appointed me as the final judge of this
tournament.  Now you, Ikea, must face me."  She removed the bookshelf from
her back and held it in a battle stance.

"Ikea," she said, "I am she of whom the book spoke."

Ikea drew his own chair and studied her.  She made no move to strike.

Some battles, the book had said, cannot be fought with honnor.  Ikea had not
known what to make of this at the time, and still did not.  He faced a dilemma.
To fight dishonorably would shame his dojo, his sister, and his most venerable
sensei, who watched him even now.  On the other hand, if this woman actually
*requested* that he fight her dishonorably, was it truly dishonorable?

The pause lenghthened.  Still she made no move to strike.  Now that he had
had a chance to observe her closely, something was wrong.  Her stance was not
confident.  Her strength seemed insufficient to wield her bookshelf with any
power, and the angle she held it at would clearly leave her defenseless to
a well-timed attack.  Must he fight her like this?  A true Furniture Warrior
would never compete with a novice in real combat...

Ikea blinked.

He folded his chair and returned it to its place on his back.  He bowed to
her.

"I am sorry," he said.  "I cannot fight you.  You are clearly outmatched.  It
would not be fair."

The Mysterious Psychic Chick smiled again.

"Ikea," she said, "of all the spiky-haired Tibetans I have faced in the
long course of this tournament, you are the first to understand that passage 
in the light of righteousness rather than victory."  She returned her shelf 
to the strap on her back.  "Congratulations."

WHAT? said the Emperor.  HE WINS BY NOT FIGHTING?  WHAT KIND OF CHEAP 
GIMMICK IS THAT?

Queen Radiance waved a halogen bulb warningly at him.

SHUTTING UP NOW, MA'AM.

"This was our ultimate goal in establishing this tournament: we hoped to find
the Earth a warrior not only strong, but wise and compassionate as well.  You 
have filled that role.  I now declare the cycle of touraments ended.  No 
longer will the world be in jeopardy, so long as your descendants live."

WHAT?! the Emperor demanded.  THAT'S NOT FAIR!

"Oh, don't worry," the Mysterious Psychic Chick said brightly.  "You can still
hold tournaments as often as you want for good clean fun!"

Then she was gone.

DAMN.

                        ************************* 

The following day, the warriors began assembling in the front courtyard, 
waiting for the bus home.  There mood was, for the most part, jovial, as the
world *had* just been saved from a fate too horrendous to comprehend.  There
was much slapping of backs and other warriorly displays (although no one
yelled "OYAJIIIII!").

For lo, Ikea did triumph over the Ottoman Emperor, and the peace and safety of 
furniture everywhere was assured for at least another thousand years.  There was 
much joy and much celebrating, but something was missing.

Where was the champion?  Where was Ikea?

*****

"One thing yet remains to be done," Ikea said to himself as he traversed the 
hallways of the Ottoman Emperor's castle.  Though it had been a long and 
wearying journey, Ikea had not forgotten the reason why he came to the 
tournament.  He still had to recover the Tibetan Furniture Warriors dojo sign 
from Hugh.  He had no idea where Hugh had gone, but he had the feeling that Hugh 
was waiting for him somewhere, ready for their final battle.

A paintbrush with an extremely sharp edge buried itself in the wall near Ikea's 
head.  All right, so Hugh was nearby.

"Hugh!" Ikea called.  "It is time that we settled this matter!"

"Indeed," Hugh answered, stepping from the shadows.  Tucked under one arm was 
the dojo sign.  He held it up for Ikea to examine.  Ikea was relieved to see 
that Hugh hadn't done anything terrible to it, like painting it chartreuse and 
mauve.  Ikea would never live down the shame if he returned the sign to his 
sensei in that condition.

Ikea drew his chair.  "Face me!" he cried.

Hugh set the sign down gently.  "Ah, Ikea, Ikea..." he began.  "Once we were 
friends.  Brothers, practically.  It saddens me so that it has come to this."

"Your violation of furniture can never be forgiven!" Ikea declared.

Hugh shook his head.  "I was only trying to add my own touch to the style."

"The Ancient Art of the Tibetan Furniture Warriors has survived throughout 
thousands of years without the 'touches' of those such as you.  Take your 
weapon, Hugh.  This battle has been coming for a long time."

"Ah, yes, this reminds me of the ancient battle rituals of the thirteenth-
century Velgaria tribes of the Karsta peninsula..." Hugh launched into another 
one of his speeches.

After twenty minutes, Ikea found himself beginning to get sleepy.  He looked at 
Hugh, who showed no sign of stopping any time soon.  Ikea wanted to end this 
battle - heck, he wanted to *start* it - but attacking an unarmed and unprepared 
opponent was most dishonorable.  But maybe just this one, could he make an 
exception?

Before he could be swayed any further towards the Dark Side, his problem was 
solved by the appearence of a small pink bundle of energy.

"Oniichan!  There you are!  Everyone's been looking everywhere for you!" Lumi-
chan babbled as she rushed up to Ikea.  Then she noticed Hugh and the dojo sign.  
"It's our sign!  And the bad man who took it!"  Whipping a light tube out of her 
pack, she tossed it at Hugh.  "Pretty Light-Tube Strike!"

The bulb connected with the still-speechifying Hugh, knocking him out.

Lumi-chan jumped up and down with glee.  "Wai!  Wai!  Lumi-chan beat the bad 
guy!"

Ikea cleared his throat, and Lumi-chan turned to look at him.

"Lumi-chan, what have I told you about interrupting duels of honor?"

Lumi-chan looked sad.  "You said to never, ever do it again."  She sniffled.  
"Lumi-chan is so sorry!"

Noting that his sister appeared to be on the verge of tears, Ikea put a hand out 
and rather awkwardly patted her on the head.  "I think we can overlook it just 
this once."

Lumi-chan was all smiles and sunshine again.  "Wai!  Let's get the sign, and 
then we can go back and tell Daddy and Queen Radiance can become my new 
oneechan!"

Ikea walked over to the sign, and picked it up slowly and reverently.  "At last, 
my mission here is complete."

He walked back over to where Lumi-chan waited, and the two went off to rejoin 
the others.

As for Hugh, well, he was still unconscious, and looked to stay that way for a 
good long while.

It was a good thing Fifi came looking for him.


                        *************************

IN THE WAKE OF THE TOURNAMENT:

IKEA returned to Tibet, where he continued his training.

QUEEN RADIANCE returned with Ikea and ensured that the line of Furniture
Warriors did not die out, if you know what I mean.  She also helped rebuild
the Dimension of Radiance on weekends.

LUMI returned to Tibet with Ikea, where she eventually became the first 
Furniture Warrior ever to defeat herself in five consecutive matches.

MARLO remained in FurnitureSpace until the Mysterious Psychic Chick took
pity on him and let him out.  Two minutes later, she stuffed him back into
the armoire and booted him back to his home subdimension, where he was
still known only as "the psychotic kid."  Only now he was known as "the
psychotic kid stuck in an armoire."  They feed him on Tuesdays.

YARSLOV eventually found the courage to ask Joanie out.  He passed the Not 
Freaking When He Finds Out A Young Child Is Involved In This Relationship 
Test, which made for an excellent start.

JOANIE opened Fifi's School of Combat Domestic Service with her teacher,
Jervis.

SHELLY became England's first furniture-wielding superheroine.  In the 
guise of Desk Girl, she combats the forces of Evil and makes deadbeat
dads pay up on their alimony and child support.

MICK continued to play pool in seedy pubs.  But he did make some child
support payments after a desk with a note wrapped around it was thrown
through his window.

HARRY became the Handsome Senior Executive.  He continued his mysterious
fight against the forces of ScumCo.

FIFI returned to Paris and continued in her chosen fields of fashion design,
hotel management, and pointless sadism.

REBECCA continued to hunt Fifi until, after much therapy the involvement 
of a tranquilizer gun, they finally reached an amicable truce.  She began 
producing designer curtains.

HUGH's art continued to be funded by Fifi.  He began designing patterns for
Rebecca's curtain business, but unfortunately did so from behind bars.  It 
appears that French authorities did not take an appreciative view of Hugh's
efforts to "lighten up" a number of national treasures in the Louvre.

YOSHI was placed in charge of Queen Radiance's city, on condition that he 
tell her his real name.  (It's Dolby, by the way.)

TONY offered to reveal his real name, but no one ever discovered the reason
for the false beard.  He only hinted darkly at something involving The 
Government and a potato.

LEONARDO returned to Italy, where he became involved in a number of messy
patrimony suits.

THE EMPEROR sold his palace to the Huge Haunted Hotel Corporation, a wholly-
owned subsidiary of ScumCo, Inc.  He retired to Pasadena, where he runs a
correspondance course in Evil Plotting.  He is currently writing his 
autobiography, tentatively titled "Memoirs Noirs: The Life of an .

DOCTORS PFISCHER and SHOCKWAVE found their true calling designing the sorts 
of devices normally only encountered in airline gift catalogues.  Morally
Ambiguous Scientists, Inc, took the world of, er, stuff by storm.

MISS OERU became the personal secretary of Bill Gates.  She then leaked inside
information to Microsoft competitors and retired to Bimini with the graft
money.

SOPHIA found a new niche in the world of heavy opera.  She also helps demolish
condemned buildings on the weekends.

JAN, KEN, and PON went on to start a combination meditation garden, hair salon,
and copy shop.  It went under in less than a week.

LIVEWIRE 2.0 BETA found gainful employment in the home of Mrs. Eulalie Bipp,
age 73.  She mostly uses him to make popcorn.

The OTHER FIGHTERS, being primarily cannon fodder, went back to whatever 
uninteresting things they were doing before the tournament, and did stuff
and led lives that may or may not have been noteworthy.

                        *************************

The Flaming Author's Notes of Doom:

Mental note:  Never volunteer to end an impro.

So ends an era.  I first read the original three chapters of FW long 
before it came to ImproFanfic--before, in fact, there WAS an ImproFanfic; 
to be the one ending it now is thus a rather surreal experience.  It's 
been fun, even if I did end up rereading the whole series to find specific 
information and unresolved threads, which usually required multiple changes 
each...well okay, "fun" might not be exactly the word I was looking for.  

I'm sorry this took so long to get done; there was more to be tied up than 
I at first realized--things just kept surfacing with practically every chapter
I reread.  (And that's the only appology in these here Notes. Happy, 
W4? ^_^)  And thanks to my prereaders for catching a number of spelling errors,
clunky sentences, and one little continuity error from way back in chapter one.

Economy-sized thanks to Kate Malloy for feedback and a number of 
suggestions on how to wrap up those pesky trailing plot points, without which 
I might still be whacking my head on my desk.  She also wrote the final scene, 
In Which Our Hero Recovers His Sign.

Thanks go also to Jonatan Streith, Eslington, and Steven Scougall for 
prereading this monster at various stages, and John Evans for volunteering, 
although as it turned out he wasn't able to; Eslington and Steven also 
suggested some of the aftermath reports.  Yet more thanks to Twoflower, for 
trusting a relative newcomer to finish this mess :)  I doubt this will 
inscribe my name in the Tablet of Fanfic History, but nevertheless I feel 
quite honored.

In case you were confused about the Yoshi/Radiance stuff, waaaaay back in #7
Yoshi revealed that the last tournament was won with the help of a warrior
who gave her life to stop the Emperor.  That was presumably Queen Radiance 
(and if you have a better way of explaining what she was doing inside a 
Flaming Avocado of Doom, I'd love to hear it).  Dolby, of course, is a play
on Yoshi's method of fighting.

Joanie, if you had forgotten (I had) has a one-year-old son in Brooklyn.

The sudden re-emergance of ScumCo was a trifle abrupt, but hey, I had to get
Harry back in a chair somehow.

Pfischer and Shockwave: when Shockwave was first introduced he said something 
about a former colleague who stole his designs.  Dr. Pfischer seemed the most 
likely choice, and they do make quite a demented little team.

Turning the Mysterious Psychic Chick into the secret end boss was a little
cheesy, I know, but it was the best way I could think of to a) have Queen
Radiance rematch against the Emperor and b) not steal all the limelight from
Ikea, who is, after all, the main character.

The nose chapter from Tristram Shandy is a passage in which is related the
difficulties his grandfather had in getting his (Tristram's) grandmother
to marry him, on account of his very short nose.  It is filled with things
such as "'Tis fully an inch longer than my father's'" and so on, and it is
preceeded by the note: "For by the word Nose throughout all this long
chapter of noses, and in every other part of my work, where the word Nose
occurs,--I declare, by that word I mean a Nose, and nothing more, or less."
If you can wade through 18th-century prose at its most deliberately dense, 
it might be worth checking out.  I don't  know if the <edit> stuff was 
conicidence or not.

If you read all this, give yourself a pat on the back.































... but I don't wanna end it.

































*sigh*  Oh, all right:


                                 FIN