Aaron Shattuck squinted at the piece of paper in his 
hands. Reading did not come easy to him, for he found it 
annoying how the little black shapes would just sit there, 
unmoving, instead of running around attacking each other. But 
with a little time and a lot of concentration, he found that 
he could just barely decipher the words.
	"Yoooou.... aaaare.... cord-ee-lie... in-vitted..."
	Of course, the task would probably be a lot easier if 
Chippy weren’t being so noisy! He looked over his shoulder to 
find out just what the little transvestite Gnome was babbling 
about.
	"WATCHTHEROADWATCHTHEROADWATCHTHEROADWATCHTHEROOOOOOAD!"
	Oh, yeah.
	Aaron was able to swing the wheel around just in time to 
avoid an oncoming Mac truck. He did not, however, move into 
the correct lane.
	"You know," Chippy sneered as he wiped his brow in 
relief, "most people bother learning how to _drive_ before 
they steal a car."
	"Shut up, Chippy," Aaron replied wittily. "I saw ‘Night 
Rider’ once. I know what I’m doin’."
	As Chippy began to make a direct appeal to God, Aaron 
took another look at the note. He had reread it five times 
that day, and he still couldn’t quite believe it. No one had 
invited him to a party before! In fact, he wasn’t even quite 
sure exactly what a "party" was. It had required some research 
to find out, and while "The History of the Whig Party" had not 
painted a very interesting picture, "Orgasm Beach Party Volume 
V" certainly had!
	"This is gonna be great!" he declared, switching the fog 
lights on and off in his excitement. "Just like that video! 
You should’a seen it, Chippy! It had those people... you know, 
with the things on their chests?"
	"...... You mean,... ‘women’?"
	"Yeah, them! And they were all moving around with their 
heads still attached and stuff... not like that one I found 
under the overpass! You ‘member that?"
	Unfortunately, Chippy did. He still had nightmares about 
it.

***

Improfanfic Party, Part 11

"A Lot of Dialogue and Sound Effects"

Written by Aaron Shattuck

Except for the bits involving the arrival of The Eternal Lost 
Lurker, 
which were written by The Eternal Lost Lurker

Edited by Chippy the Transvestite Gnome

Started by W4

Editor’s Note: Somewhere in this installment, I have left the 
author’s words alone, completely unaltered by my hand. Let’s 
see if you can tell which ones those are!
 
***

	Bob the Bishounen Chauffeur stood in the front yard. He 
had been standing in the front yard for quite some time now, 
of course. Ever since Omi had chained him to the post. Many a 
passerby had mistaken him for some sort of lawn ornament, but 
it wouldn’t be entirely true to say that he wasn’t keeping 
himself occupied. There was a complex process of thought going 
on within that attractive noggin.
	This sure is pretty grass, he thought. Not as pretty as 
my face, of course.
	*vvvvvvvvvrrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmmmmm*
	That ladybug is pretty too, but also not as pretty as 
me.
	*vrrrrrrrrrrmmmmmMMMMMM*
	I sure hope Omi comes back soon. I’m getting hungry and 
this leash is beginning to chafe.
	*VVVVVVVVRRRRRRRRRMMMMMMM*
	Hey, what’s that noise?

***

	"Should I add this one to your ‘score’, Mr. Deathrace 
2000?" Chippy asked, peering out the window at the mangled 
mess of ex-bishounen that lay beneath the front tires.
	"Yeah, sure," Aaron mumbled in reply, not really paying 
attention as he checked himself in the rearview mirror.
	Chippy held down the bile that was rising in his throat. 
There would be many more hideous deaths before the day was 
out, of that he was sure. But he had to play along, ignore the 
horror, until he found someone who would be willing to rescue 
him. Surely in such a large group of people there would be at 
least one who would-
	Chippy’s line of thought was cut off abruptly, as he 
found himself grabbed by a huge hand and unceremoniously 
thrown into the glove compartment.
	"Hey!" he cried, sprawled over a bed of road maps and 
Chick tracts. "What gives?!"
	"Sorry, Chippy," his tormentor explained, slamming the 
compartment shut, "I don’t want you crampin’ my _style_."

***

	Jonatan was still suffering the aftereffects of the 
Gargle Blaster when he chanced to look out the window. What he 
saw didn’t help.
	Looking around for a Staff member, he spied Twoflower 
beating NeoVid near to death in the living room.
	"Uh... 2F!" he called, cupping his hands around his mouth.
	"I’m a little busy here!" the master of Impro called 
back, unwavering from his duties of violence.
	"Yeah, but... someone just ran over a bishounen outside! 
Is that against the rules?"
	Muttering explicatives under his breath, Twoflower 
strode to over to Jonatan, allowing NeoVid to rise on shaky 
legs and stumble after him.
	"Aw, jeez," Twoflower moaned when he saw the mess 
outside. "Hey, who’s that guy?"
	"Oh him?" piped NeoVid, rubbing the bruises on his head 
(which for some reason were colored green instead of the more 
orthodox purple.) "That’s Aaron Shattuck, isn’t it?"
	"Are you sure?" Twoflower asked, a slight hint of panic 
in his voice. "I don’t remember inviting him..."
	"Didn’t invite me, either," mumbled Jonatan.
	"Yeah," NeoVid confirmed, "we got him in my dimension, 
too. Only there he hosts ‘Good Morning America’."
	"Well," reasoned Twoflower, "he did just kill one of 
Omi’s bishounens... but he can’t be as bad as his writing would 
suggest, can he?"
	The first thing Aaron did when they let him in was to 
drop his pants.
	"Ah, that’s better. Those were getting uncomfortable! 
So, where do you keep the knives around here, anyway?"
	"Hold on, Aaron," suggested Twoflower, "there’s 
something else I think you’d like to see first."
	Carefully, Twoflower, Neovid and Jonatan began to lead 
him down one of the less frequented halls of Chez Impro.
	"Hey, hot dogs!" Shattuck exclaimed, noticing the hot 
dog cart Jess had abandoned so that she and W4 could spend 
some qwawity time wif each other. "I can think of some good 
uses for those!"
	"Heh heh," Jonatan laughed fakely. "We’re sure you can, 
Aaron. But first, why don’t you go in _here_?" He gestured to 
an open closet.
	"But... the hot dogs... mustard bottles... tongs..."
	"Oh, but you _want_ to go in here," NeoVid explained. 
"It’s got... uh... kittens being strangled by... bleeding... 
cheerleaders?"
	Aaron stared at them blankly and there was a long moment 
of silence.
	"How much are the cheerleaders bleeding?"
	After they shoved him in, they padlocked the door.

***

	Defrosting Leonardo Dicaprio had seemed to be a very 
good idea to Omi at the time. After all, she was a connoisseur 
of bishounen, and one would be hard pressed to find a shounen 
who was more bi than that (at least in the real world.) 
Unfortunately, there was just one little problem she hadn’t 
anticipated.
	"Giiiiiilbert! I wanna climb up th’ water tower ‘gain!"
	After being frozen for so long, Leo had suffered 
irreparable brain damage.
	"Match in the gas tank... boom boom!"
	Omi looked at the monstrosity before her in disgust. A 
steady flow of drool leaked out of his ever-grinning mouth, 
his eyes were squinty and unfocused, and his head and arms 
would periodically make spastic little jerking movements as he 
flailed around. She shook her head with disbelief. How could 
someone so cute become so repulsive in such a short amount of 
time? And now that the Ragnarok’s engines had broken down, 
effectively stranding them all in the Pacific Ocean, there was 
_no_ escape from what she had unleashed!
	"Gilbert!" 
	"My name’s not ‘Gilbert’, Leo," Omi corrected through 
clenched teeth.
	"I wet my pants."

***

	Somewhere in Texas...
	Pandemonium reigned in the streets as traffic, 
passersby, and even the odd building scrambled out of the path 
of...
	Nobody was quite sure what it was. After all, they could 
only catch fleeting glimpses of it as it zipped by an alarming 
speed of 20mph.
	Whatever it was, it was huge, glittering gold, and stank 
of cheese. It was a monstrosity. It was something out of a 
demented nightmare.
	It was being pulled by no fewer than 99 Chihuahuas.
	Suddenly, the...chariot, for lack of a better term, 
ground to a halt. The lead Chihuahua turned and, after a yap 
session with the remainder of the pack, spoke to the driver.
	"Yo quiero Taco Bell."
	The driver hmmed. "Good idea. Onward to the Border."
	And the chariot rumbled into motion once more...

***

	Well, Twoflower thought, now that the menace has been 
sealed and NeoVid properly chastised, I can relax and-
	That’s when the phone rang.
	"Hello?"
	"Yeah, this is Random."
	"Oh, hey.  How’s the taxi service going?"
	"Ah... that’s what I’m calling about. It’s sorta hit a 
snag."
	"’Snag’?"
	"Yeah. It’s the dragon. You see..."
	"OHDEARSWEETJESUSNONONONOAAAAAAAH!"
	*Chomp*
	"It got kinda hungry from all the exercise..."
	"Daddy! Daddy! You killed my daddy you bad lizard-!"
	*Chomp*
	"Ah, that is a problem."
	"Yeah."
	"My baby! Oh why God why?!"
	*Chomp*
	"We’re hoping it’ll be finished soon."
	"Well, you do what you can."
	"Woof woof! Woof woof!"
	*Chomp*
	*Click*

***

	Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, Epsilon the Evil One 
drummed his fingers on the ground.
	"So boss," squeaked Blade, his head still sore from many 
whacks with the hefty sadist’s guidebook, "have you come up 
with a new evil plan to destroy the party, yet?"
	Epsilon halted his finger-drumming and looked down at 
his hench-bat with a expression of dark apathy.
	"I’m working on it, okay?" 
	"Two hit wonder," muttered Blade.
	Blade went through a lot of pain after that.

 ***

	Assuming their informant, "Squizzy", hadn’t been lying 
to them this was the place NickM and Blackmage wanted to be. 
The club was called "Anorexia", and it was apparently 
where the supermodels were hanging out. Exchanging a 
triumphant smile, the two scavenger hunters bounded merrily to 
the door, and directly into a very, very large man.
	"’Ey!" the multi-layered mountain of flesh barked down 
at them, his voice deep and barely decipherable. "No one 
‘llowed in here but’cher supermodels! You leave or I hurt! 
Pain pain! You no like!"
	"But...," Blackmage faltered. "We... uh... we are 
supermodels!"
	"Huh?"
	"Oh, yes," NickM agreed, catching on quickly. "It’s the 
latest fashion, you know."
	"Whazzat?"
	"Oh you know," continued Blackmage, "dressing up in a 
rubber suit that make you look like... um... just some guy."
	"It’s very big in Paris."
	"Oh," replied the bouncer, his eyes screwed tight in 
concentration. "Uh... okay, then."
	Excitement was in the air as the two walked past the 
not-so-gentle giant (who was in the process of counting on his 
fingers) and opened the door. At last, they would know the 
answer to a question the world had long been posing: "Just 
what do supermodels do when they unblinking eye of the 
spotlight is not cast upon them?"
	As it turned out, they spent a lot of time eating Cheez-
Whiz on crackers and watching "Cheech and Chong" movies.
	*Crunch crunch.*
	"’Ey man, gimme some a’ dat weed."
	*Crunch Crunch.*
	"Oh woooow, man, I’m seein’ comical, drug-induced 
hallucinations!"
	*Crunch Crunch.*
	"I mean, they’re not _really_ hallucinations. They’re 
actually happening, but I _think_ they’re hallucinations, 
‘cause I’m so high. And that’s why it’s funny!"
	*Crunch Crunch*
	"I think."
*Crunch Crunch Gulp*
	"Pass the Cheez-Whiz, please."
	NickM stared in horror.
	"I feel so..."
	"Disillusioned?" Blackmage opted.
	"Yeah."
	"Still, ten points is ten points."
	NickM nodded in agreement, and took out the burlap sack.

***

	"So," Jess remarked, her head still resting on W4’s 
shoulder, "I suppose we should look around for a place to 
live."
	"A wha’? Who? Where? When?"
	"Yeah, I think our relationship’s progressed far enough, 
and I know my place is too small."
	"Re-re-re-re-re-re-re-"
	Suddenly, Myth burst out the back door, rushing to W4 in 
a flash and grabbing him by the wrist.
	"Hey, I’ll bet you’re bored out here, not doing 
anything," she declared. "C’mon, why don’t you join my team in 
the scavenger hunt? It’s lotsa fun!
	The look Jess gave her would’ve made a mouse’s heart 
explode.
	"Just... what... do... you... think... you’re... doing?" she asked, 
extra spoonfuls of menace added to each word.
	"What does it look like I’m doing?" Myth replied. "I’m 
saving poor Woofer-san from the clutches of dull company."
	"You home-wrecker! How dare you try and steal my one 
true love from me?!"
	"’Your’ once true love? What did you do, buy him?!"
	Realizing that two members of the female persuasion were 
fighting over him, W4 did the only thing he could do: he 
hyperventilated.
	"Floozy!"
	"Jerk!"
	"Eeeeaaaahuh eeeeeaaaaahuh!"
	"He’s mine!"
	"No he’s not!"
	"Eeeeeaaaahuh eeeeeaaaaahuh!"
	"You fools!" exclaimed Lawrence Chu, suddenly jumping 
out of lurk mode and appearing before them. "Don’t you see? 
You’ve created a... Bermuda Love Triangle!"
	No sooner was it said than a glowing, pink triangle 
appeared on the ground, its points all falling at the feet of 
Myth, Jess and W4. Rapidly, it began to grow, and once it had 
enveloped them, the three found themselves sinking into as if 
immersed in quicksand
	"HEEEEEELP!" was their mutual cry (although for W4, it 
was more along the lines of "HEEEEAAAAAAHUHlp!")
	"Well," Lawrence reflected as they winked out of 
existence, "can’t say I didn’t warn them."

***

	"Stop!"
	The chariot ground to a halt, Chihuahuas yipping in 
confusion.
	The driver peered at a nearby road sign, which read:

Now Entering
 	 BUTTFUCK
City  Limits

	He blinked. A car passed, its driver rubbernecking 
curiously. He glanced at the rear of the car, and to his 
surprise, found it had Idaho plates.
He glanced from the road sign to the license plate, and 
back. 
	"Well I'll be damned," he said. "There really *is* a 
place called Buttfuck, Idaho." Then he shouted in frustration. 
"But how the hell did I end up in IDAHO!? Aaaaargh!"
Turning the chariot around, and hoping he was aimed in 
the right direction this time, the driver urged the Chihuahuas 
onward...

***

	Lusipher looked over his Ultra part with bemusement. No 
matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t recall when he had 
decided to have Tarou beat the crap out of everyone and ascend 
to the godhead.
	Looking up from what he could only guess was his own 
work, Lusipher spotted Roe by the coffee table, furiously 
scribbling on a piece of paper and letting out the occasional 
chuckle.
	"Uh... Roe?" he asked.
	"Hm? Yes, Lusipher?" Roe replied, grinning 
mischievously.
	"You’re plotting something, aren’t you?"
	"Who, me? Naw, I-"
	And than aron kilud tham al ande avarywone sawed how 
koool hi wus and wantud tu hav seks whith him. Evan goD.
	"What the hell was that?!" Roe exclaimed, dropping his 
paper on the floor.
	"I don’t know," Lusipher admitted, "but suddenly I feel 
the need for a long, _long_ shower."
Lusipher walked off in the direction of the bathroom, 
leaving Roe to slowly recover his composure and recontinue his 
non-plotting activities.

***

	There really wasn’t a whole lot to do on the Ragnarok. 
While Todd and Dan had resolved to continue the scavenger hunt 
(sparse as the pickings may have been), Omi and Delfina had 
long since given up and resorted to the lowest form of ship-
bound entertainment: shuffleboard.
	"Well, we have an anchor," Todd announced, motioning 
towards their spoils proudly. "What else’s is on the list that 
we could find here?"
	"Ummmmmm," Dan ummmmmed as he scanned down the sheet in 
his hands.
	"Any salt water? We could get salt water, easy."
	"Noooooo..."
	"How ‘bout broken ship engines?"
	Dan sighed in defeat. It looked as if this was where the 
scavenging ran dry. He could hear the call of the shuffleboard 
from the other end of the deck. 
	*Wooooosh!* 
	"Come to me!" 
	*Wooooosh!*
	"Come to my dark realm or suffer eternal ennui! 
Ahahaha!"
	*Wooooosh!*
	"Wheeeee! Lookit how high I am!"
	No wait, that wasn’t the spirit of shuffleboard! It was 
coming from above. Dan craned his head upwards.
	"Lookit me, Gilbert!"
	"Uh... Omi!" he called to his fellow teammate.
	"What?!" she called back.
	"Your Leonardo Dicaprio is climbing the crow’s nest!"
	"That’s nice!"
	"I’m king of the worl-aaaaaaaaaaah!"
	*Crash!*
	"Oh... never mind!"
	"I want some lines, already," Delfina complained as she 
prepared to shuffle.

***

	Roe was rudely interrupted from his non-plotting by the 
ringing of the doorbell. Naturally, he realized, no one _else_ 
was going to go get it. So, stuffing his papers into his back 
pocket, the Improparty Staff member made his way to the door.
Opening it revealed a familiar figure possessed of oddly 
colored hair and immense height.
	"Hi, Rain," Roe greeted. "Glad you could make it."
	"Me too," Rain agreed, stepping through the doorway and 
into the house. "So this is the famous ‘Chez Impro’. Not bad, 
not bad..."
	"Say," Roe snapped his fingers with abrupt remembrance, 
"did you bring my penguin plushy with you like I asked?"
	"Oh, that," Rain smiled nervously. "Heh heh... well, 
you’re gonna think this is funny, really... uh... mmm... I’m afraid 
your penguin plushy is no more."
	"What?!" Roe clutched his head in a sudden onrush of 
grief. "M-mr. Pengu’s dead? No... I can’t believe it..."
	"Yeah, sorry about that. See, my grandmother thought is 
was a lobster and boiled it for dinner."
	"..."
	"Well, she _is_ sort of getting on in years..."
	"THIS IS FOR MR. PENGU!" Roe snarled as he produced a 
sharp, powerful upward kick to Rain’s undersection.
The bad plushy keeper was jettisoned upwards, crashing 
through several levels of the house and into the sky, rapidly 
becoming little more than a black dot on the horizon.
	"Oh, yeah... ‘four’," Roe added.
	"Hey Roe," said Jake as walked in, pointedly ignoring 
the hole in the ceiling and the pile of plaster on the floor, 
	"You wanna play a quick game of ‘Insert Name of Japanese 
Fighting Game Here’?"
	"No thanks, my eyes hurt and my thumbs have lost all 
feeling-"
	Suddenly, Lusipher burst into the hall, sweat clinging 
to his forehead and his eyes wide with panic.
	"Guys," he gasped, "come quick! It’s Elvis!"
	"Oh no," moaned Jake, "don’t tell me he got into the 
food again?" 
	Lusipher shook his head.
	"It’s not that... just... follow me."

***

	The news traveled fast, and soon at least half of the 
residents of Chez Impro found themselves crammed into a tiny 
bathroom, arranged in a circle around the spectacle before 
them.
	There, like a beached whale on the cold, white tile, lay 
Elvis Presley. His breath short and ragged, his eyes dilated, 
unseeing, and a thin trickle of cherry-flavored Tylenol 
running out of the corner of his mouth and down the side of 
his flabby cheek.
	"Dear lord," Jake breathed, inspecting the very empty 
compartment once hidden behind the bathroom mirror. "He 
swallowed everything in the medicine cabinet!... Including the 
Neosporin!"
	"Hey!" someone cried. "My asthma medication! I need 
that!"
	Attracted by the hubbub, the skeletal figure of Keith 
Richards easily slipped through the crowd and into the eye of 
the storm. He took one look at the floor, covered with empty 
pill containers, and flew into a rage.
	"Elvis yew fockin’ basta’d!" he screamed. "Yew ayte awl 
th’ good shite!" Then with the frenzy of drug-withdrawal, he 
bit down on the King’s leg.
	"Okay, that’s enough!" Eslington shouted, quickly taking 
charge. "Fall back people, give him some breathing room! And 
for Cripes’ sake, someone pull Keith off him!"
	Slowly, the mob did as ordered, and Eslington knelt 
beside the fallen legend.
	"Elvis..." he whispered, "can you hear me?"
	Gradually, Mr. Presley’s eyes became focused once again. 
He began to make small, jerking movements with his jaw, which 
were followed by a 
sort of weak sputter.
	"What is it, Elvis?" Eslington asked, putting his ear 
close by the star of star’s mouth. "Do you have something to 
say?"
	The voice came faintly, as if from a great distance.
	"I... want... those... goddamn... Beatles... out of the... country."
	Then with a mighty wheeze, the King’s head fell back, 
smashing against the floor, and he lay prone, never to speak 
again.
	Ladies and gentlemen, Elvis has left the building.


***

	Arweden’s ex-boyfriend (who, in a remarkable coincidence 
of fate, actually was named Arweden’s Ex-Boyfriend) was having 
a bit of difficulty with _his_ boyfriend. Specifically, he was 
finding him less than enthusiastic about being dumped.
"I’m sorry Steve," he apologized for what seemed the 
millionth time, "it’s over."
	"Aeb, what the hell is wrong with you? I mean, you date 
me for two days, and then fly all the way to Thailand just to 
break up with me over the phone?!"
	"Hey, this call is costing me lots of money, you know! 
You think long distance comes cheap? Anyhow, I have to break 
up with you... I just don’t think I’m gay anymore."
	"’Gay any-‘... _please_ don’t tell me you’ve gotten 
involved with Exodus International!"
	"No, it’s not that. It’s just... Look, I’m not attracted 
to chicks, right? So I thought maybe I’d be into guys, but it 
isn’t working out. I think what I need is a hermaphrodite... 
with wings, preferably."
	"Uh... ‘Wings’?"
	"Yeah. Bird wings, not bat wings."
	".... You know, maybe this really is for the best-"
	"Hold on, I have a call on the other line."
	*Beep*
	"Hello?"
	"Congratulations!" A strange voice cried into Aeb’s ear. 
"You have just won... um... whatever it is you really want!"
	"A hermaphrodite?" Aeb gasped. "With wings?!"
	"Yeah... sure. That."
	"All right!"
	"Yes, you sure are a lucky son of a gun. Anyhow, you 
just have to follow these instructions to claim your prize!"
	Aeb smiled, his heart bursting with joy. This is it, he 
thought. Sexual satisfaction, here I come!
	Far, far away, at the other end of the line, Chris 
Nichols smiled too.

***

	Keeping an eye out for passing cars, nihility and Aaron 
(Pinnick, not Shattuck. Don’t worry, he’s still locked in the 
closet) carefully exited the front door of Chez Impro and made 
their way towards the curb. Between them, they held what 
appeared to be a large, slightly round object covered in a 
plastic garbage bag. 
	"Jeez, he’s heavy," muttered nihility "It figures that 
they’d draft us into this as soon as we got back from the 
beach."
	"Yeah," agreed his brother. "’We took turns in your 
absence and you guys got the short straw’ my- ew, watch your 
step. I just got bishounen bits on my shoe."
	"Yuck. Hey, if it’s okay to leave _that_ corpse lying 
around, how come we gotta be all hush hush with this one?"
	"Oh, I don’t think bishounen’s are really considered 
full citizens, anyway," Aaron mused. "From what I hear, you 
can order them in catalogues."
	"Ah."
	The two sighed in relief as they dropped their burden 
into the empty garbage can.
	"Say," Aaron asked "do you really think it’s such a good 
idea to just throw him in the trash like this? I mean, it’s 
not exactly covert."
	"Well," nihility replied, scratching his chin 
thoughtfully, "as long as we don’t attract attention to-"
	It struck without warning.
Faintly at first, the unholy yapping of Chihuahuas began 
to permeate the atmosphere of Chez Impro, growing ominously 
closer with every passing second. Silhouetted in the daylight, 
obscured by a cloud of dust, a massive shape plowed down the 
road, barreling toward the party house.
	Curious at this strange phenomenon, many partygoers 
began to filter out of the house and into the yard. They were 
doing a lot of that sort of thing this day.
The yapping died down to a murmur as the chariot rolled to a 
stop on the lawn.
	The crowd went into a collective boggle at the sight of 
the thing. Some muttered about "Mickeys" and which items of 
food they suspected to have contained them.
	Of all the modes of transit which had been used to 
arrive at Chez Impro thus far, this was probably numero uno on 
the weird shit-o-meter. The driver's seat of the chariot 
resembled nothing so much as a massive throne of cheese. It 
smelled like one too, for that matter. Behind the throne, 
gleaming in the sunlight, a massive golden toilet perched 
ponderously upon old-style wagon wheels.
	Seated upon the throne (the cheese one, that is, not the 
head) was a seat. "Greetings, I have arrived," it rumbled in a 
rich, deep fart.
	Boggles turned to twitches. Some fell into fetal 
positions, others decided to go back inside and "sleep it 
off." Aaron and nihility merely exchanged a nervous glance.
"I am Slobba the Butt...ah, screw it," the ass said. A 
sound like a zipper being pulled emanated from somewhere 
within it...And a pair of hands spread the unzipped ass 
costume open, folding it back to reveal the true driver of the 
golden cheesy chariot: an overweight guy in his early 20s, 
wearing an ensemble curiously mixed from the outfits of DBZ's 
Mirai Trunks and Pokemon's Ash Ketchum, complete with the 
Official Pokemon League Hat which, combined with his mirrored 
shades, completely hid he top half of his face from view. He 
waved cheerfully. "Hey, how's it goin'," he said.
	"That must be Lurker," nihility said.
	"Yup," The Eternal Lost Lurker replied, hopping down off 
the throne of cheese. "Great to be here," he said, ambling to 
the rear of his chariot.
	"What's with the...err..." Aaron began.
	"Toilet?" Lurker asked.
	"Yeah."
	Lurker grinned dementedly. "I call it the ImproPotty. 
	You like?"Mass facefaulting ensued.
	Lurker shrugged. "Needed trunk space...you know, for 
luggage, tapes, anything I happened to pick up along the 
way...oh, and food."Several members of the crowd perked up at 
the latter. "Food? You brought food?"
	"Stopped at a few dozen Taco Bells along the way," 
Lurker said, climbing onto one of the wheels, which creaked 
ominously under his weight. He opened the lid, reached in, and 
held up a wrapped pseudo-Mexican fast food product, grinning. 
	"More than enough for everyone. Don't worry, the toilet's 
solar, so everything's still warm."
	"...a solar toilet. Right..." nihility said.
	"Never doubt the awesome powers of science," Lurker 
explained, walking over to give him a Taco Bell treat. As he 
made his way, one of the Chihuahuas scampered underfoot, 
causing him to trip and knock against the garbage can, which 
fell over, spilling out its contents for all to see.
	"Heeeey," Lurker said. "Isn’t that the corpse of Elvis 
Presley?"
	"Ah... no... that’s... the corpse of an Elvis impersonator!" 
nihility declared, quite aware of the various locals no doubt 
peeking though their windows at this latest spectacle.
	"Oh, well, that’s okay then," the Lurk shrugged. "Now 
let’s get these tacos inside!"
	There was a resounding cheer of approval, and the Lurker 
began taking volunteers to help him carry the ImproPotty 
inside. Meanwhile, several of the Chihuahuas had discovered 
Elvis’ hand and were enjoying a meal of their own.
 
***

	Lawrence Chu was enjoying a scrumptious mass produced, 
imitation-meat taco with many other of the guests when he when 
he spotted a disheveled looking W4 across the crowded room.
	"W4!" he cried, once again dropping his lurk-cloak and 
cutting across the room towards him. "You’re back!"
	W4 rose his hand feebly in greeting.
	"Ye-...sss," he agreed. He certainly was back.
	"What happened to you?"	
	"Well," W4 began, inhaling a generous amount of breath, 
"the Bermuda Love Triangle sent us back in time, to a week 
prior to America’s involvement in World War II. There, we 
attempted to stop the Japanese from bombing Pearl Harbor. We 
succeeded, but unfortunately, this meant that there was no 
American involvement in World War II, thus no American 
occupation of Japan, and thus no Disney influence on Osamu 
Tezuka, so anime as we know it never came into existence. Oh, 
they still had animation in Japan, mind you, but it all ended 
up looking a lot like a Jan Svankmejer production, and every 
single one was always about how great the Emperor was."
	"Uhhh..."
	"So we went back in time _again_ and this time _helped_ 
the Japanese to bomb Pearl Harbor. I think more people ended 
up dying that way, but what’re ya gonna do, huh?"
Lawrence nodded, not quite sure what he could possibly 
say in reply.
	"Oh, and we also picked up this girl named ‘H’ in one of 
the alternate timelines. She’s not the MGH one, by the way. I 
think she’s hitting on Calculus right now."
	From a far corner of the room, and above the buzz of the 
crowd, Lawrence thought he could just barely hear a female 
voice say:
	"Hey, big boy! Why don’t you let me @#$% your *&@$!?"
	"Huh? Um... errr... no... no thank you," Lawrence replied, 
slowly backing away. That’s... quite all right."
	"C’mon! Just let me get some hot dogs, a bottle of 
mustard and a pair of tongs!"
	"I’m going to go lie down, now," said W4.
	"Yeah," Lawrence agreed. "That’s probably a good idea."

***

	Although the day was very bright, Fatman and a good 
portion of the immediate area around him were bathed in 
darkness. The shadow was large, and although the object which 
created it was technically smaller, it was only slightly so.
	"All right," Fatman declared, clenching his fist in 
determination, "now _this_ better work."
As soon as he was gone, iguanas leapt out of the ground 
and began to dance and sing. But that doesn’t really have to 
do with anything.

***

	Gradually, the half-eaten hand began to twitch. It was a 
small tick at first, almost completely unnoticeable. But it 
grew, until soon the whole arm was shaking, a once-white 
sleeve growing ever darker as it thrashed in the dirt. The 
body followed, shivering and jiggling all over, until it 
slowly, painfully, began to rise. Rhine-stones and flecks of 
rotted skin fell from it like light rain. And with a single, 
deliberate motion, it slicked back its jet-black hair with the 
blood of the damaged hand.
	Elvis had returned, and now he had a new song to sing.
	"Braaaaaaaaaaains!"

***

Author's notes:

	They call me "Aaron the Bishounen Killer"!
	Okay, I’m rather tired right now (which I think you can 
sort of tell towards the end there), so this note is going to 
be a little disjointed.
	Let’s see, first of all, Chippy is _not_ a fictional 
character. He is real, even if everyone tells me they can’t 
see him. However, if you do feel squeamish about possibly 
breaking one of the Party rules, you can just keep him in the 
glove compartment. He’s got _plenty_ of air in there. Trust 
me! 
	Hey, I actually managed to fulfill all my requests! 
Well, sort of, anyway. Do I win a prize?
	Um... let’s see... what else? Well, I have to say that for a 
"Chibi Impro" this was actually rather difficult write for. 
Lots of people and plot threads to keep track of... I’m guessing 
that by the end of this the "character" list will resemble a 
phone book.
	Huh... guess that’s it.
	Oh, and remember folks, it’s not self-inclusion. It’s 
fictional autobiography!

***

Summary:

New Arrivals: Rain, Eternal Lost Lurker, Aaron Shattuck

Locations (the format of which I blatantly lifted off NeoVid’s 
part, 
‘cause it’s a lot easier that way):

Person                          Location 

Twoflower:                      Chez Impro 
Roe:                            Not gaming 
W4:                             Lying down 

Lusipher:                       Chez Impro 
Calculus:                       Being hit on by H in Chez 
Impro 
NeoVid:                         Chez Impro
Omi no Miko:                    Adrift on the Ragnarok 
Delfina:                        Adrift on the Ragnarok 
Ardweden:                       Maybe SLID 
Stephica:                       The deck 
Eslington:                      Karaoke Zone 
Aaron:                          The beach 
nihility (Eric):                The beach 
Dan Wood:                       Adrift on the Ragnarok 
Marlo Semaj:                    In two Impros at once 
Chris Nichols:                  The basement (aka SLID) 
Todd:                           Adrift on the Ragnarok 
Lawrence:                       Lurking/delurking/lurking 
again 
Anko:                           The deck 
Damien Roc:                     Japan 
Myth:                           Just back from the past 
NickM:                          Anorexia 
Ravi:                           At the bar 
Jake:                           Chez Impro 
Hottcoffee:                     Scavenging 
Monica:                         Under a desk 
BlackMage:                      Anorexia 
Fatman:                         On _some_ sort of 
transportation 
Epsilon:                        Somewhere in San Diego 
Blade:                          With Epsilon 
Random:                         Waiting for the Impro Taxi to 
finish eating 
Katy:                           Waiting for the Impro Taxi to 
finish eating 
Eternal Lost Lurker:		  Chez Impro
Rain:                           Flying through the 
stratosphere 
Chaos:                          Chez Impro 
Squall:                         Chez Impro 
Jonatan:                        Chez Impro 
Aaron Shattuck:			  Locked in a closet
H					  Hitting on Calculus

Iron Chef Chen Kenichi: The kitchen 
Mecha Tom Green:        San Diego 
Bishounen chauffeur:    Crushed underneath a stolen car 
Leonardo DiCaprio:      Being a complete moron on the Ragnarok 
Dragon:                 Enjoying a light snack 
Jess:                   Just back from the past
Zombie Elvis:           Front yard 
Keith Richards:         Chez Impro