======================================================= Improfanfic presents: IMPROPARTY Part The Twentieth The Terror of Threatened Normalcy and Evil Neighbours ...or... I Wanted To Do Footnotes but They'd Been Done Already Written primarily by: Steven Scougall But also with bits by: ColdFury Mark Poa Kate Malloy Illyria ImproParty started by W4 the Mad Author ======================================================= Damien Roc and Steve approached the phonebox. It was blue, and boxy, had opaque walls and an opaque window as well, and they instantly recognised it as the TARDIS from Dr. Who. At least, it was a very good impression of the TARDIS from Dr. Who. Because it was opaque they couldn't be sure, which was causing just a little bit of worry. "If this IS the TARDIS from Dr. Who," said Damien Roc, "then it'll take off as soon as we enter and we'll end up on a completely different world in a different time and getting back to the Party will be almost impossible." "No, we almost certainly would get back, but it would take several years of personal time." "SEVERAL YEARS?!?" "Probably." Damien Roc grumbled mightily. "With the way my luck's been going, it'd be par for the course." "True, but we might be able to ask the Doctor to let us make a phone call and drop us off." Damien Roc brightened. "Nothing for it but to check," said Steve. "Well, we could always not check, if we're that worried about being spirited away. Which is unlikely to happen. Though the way things are going, you're right, it would." "Steve?" "Yes?" "Stop making side comments like that, alright? It gets annoying. Now..." Damien Roc took a deep breath, and opened the door. A control room much larger than the exterior, a weird console, white walls, a supposedly cute mechanical canine mascot - these all failed to be immediately apparent. Instead, there was a phone. And a phonebook for the island, which was two pages long. "There is a God after all," said Damien Roc, his eyes shining. ----- "Boss? Boss? Where are you?" Jake crouched lower behind the bush, wearing the Kabuki stagehand costume. Hopefully, the small evil batlike creature that was Blade wouldn't notice him if he was dressed like this. It seemed to be working so far. "Booooosss!" whined Blade. "Stop playing around! This isn't funny!" "Ah, there you are lackey," said Epsilon, who had just entered the scene. "Come. I need you for my evil plans." "Oh, Epsi, there you are!" said Blade with relief. "Thou shalt not call me Epsi!" proclaimed Epsilon, producing a wet chicken from somewhere and smiting Blade with it. "Now come, you are required for the success of the Normaliser." (Some people might be thinking "Hey, that should be spelt 'Normalizer'," to which the author says "thbbbpbt, it's the correct Australian spelling, so nyah." You shall now be returned to your regularly scheduled chibi-impro madness that is ImproParty.) "Normaliser?" thought Jake. This sounded nefarious. He'd better stay behind this bush and hope that Epsilon told Blade his evil plans. "But I cannot say anything here, people might be listening. I am not that stupid an evil villain. Let us depart." "Drat," thought Jake. ----- Somewhere in a Pacific country called Philippines... The phone rang. A disgruntled guy rushed to answer it. "Great! There goes my Internet connection! Sometimes having only one phone sucks!" Mark Poa thought as he picked up the phone. "Hel-low?" he greeted, reverting back to his cheery attitude. "Hello? Chez Impro? Where on earth are you guys now?" the voice in the other end asked. "Chez Impro? What the... " Mark thought as his heart started to beat faster from excitement. By sheer coincidence (or blatant manipulation by an author), Damien Roc had dialed a wrong number and reached the home of one certified Improfanfic fanboy/author. "Who is this? Where's Chez Impro? Is the ImproParty still on? Can I join? Is there a service to the place? How much does it cost to get there?" Mark Poa queried in rapid-fire succession. "Umm, it's Damien Roc. This isn't Chez Impro?" Damien Roc asked from the other end. "Heck, no. But, if you guys are going there, can I join you? Huh? Can I? Where are you anyway?" Mark almost couldn't contain his excitement. "Chance!" his mental image shouted, while waving two small fans with the Japanese sun design. "Actually, we don't know," Damien admitted sheepishly. Somewhere in Mark's house, a passing fly facefaulted. "No problem," Mark replied. He whipped out his Handy-Dandy Mini-Palm Computer and booted up a program. In a few moments, a map and arrow pointing to a Pacific island appeared on the small screen. "I traced your location with my 'Where-on-earth?' software." He looked at the readout then blinked. "What the heck are you doing in the middle of the Pacific ocean? You're not calling collect, are you?" "Umm, I don't think so," Damien replied. Mark breathed a sigh of relief. His phone bills were getting a bit big. "As for why we're here, it's a long story," Damien continued. Then a thought hit him. (Ouch!) "Wait a minute, could you use that program to find Chez Impro?" "Sure, it's in San Diego, isn't it?" Mark recalled from what he saw on the Impro messageboard. "Actually, no. Sorry, it's another long story." "Well, I guess I could use it to help you. On one condition... take me with you to the party." "Well, sure, I guess. But we don't know where you live or anything." "No prob. I know where you guys are." Mark studied the onscreen display once again. He enlarged the map to see the exact spot: a small island forty kilometers northeast of the Philippines. "Tell you what, I'll be in your location in two hours, tops," he said. "Two hours? Wait, who..." On the other end, Damien only heard the click as the phone connection went dead. "Cool! I'm going to the Improparty!" Mark cheered to himself. His mind filled with the possibility of meeting his favorite Impro Authors and maybe making new friends. Sure, he'd be crashing, but what the hey! First though, he had to get to Damien Roc's location. ----- "What was that all about?" asked Steve. "Did you get through to Chez Impro?" Damien Roc looked at the phone, bemused. "No. I must have dialed a wrong number by mistake. And now it seems that someone else is going to be joining us here in a couple of hours." "Two hours? The party might be over by then!" "It doesn't seem to matter. I spent what felt like weeks looking for Phoebe, and when I finally got back to the Party, less than a day had gone by, I think, and it was still going strong. Weird, but it means we won't have to worry." Steve digested this for a while. "Oh well," the messy-haired one said after a moment's reflection. Anyway, while we're waiting for this new guy to show up, how about I try these other contact numbers?" ----- ColdFury wandered into the Living Room despondent and slightly bored. Not only did his archrival, the supposed #1 Fan of Taunting Godhead Legend Stone Cold Dan Hibiki, TwoFlower, disappear, but he was bored. Sighing, he switched into normal party attire via CostumeSpace, putting the pink gi away for storage. Unbuttoning the top button of his blue shinyshirt (not as good as shinypants, but close), he plopped down onto the couch next to Calculus. Glancing over at the admin, he noticed him working furtively at his laptop. "Hey Calc! Glad to see you!" Calc jumped, startled at the sudden verbal communication not preceded by a text message. "ColdFury? Where's the gi?" "I got bored." "Oh." "So..." "So." They would've sat there like that for an eternity, or started up a discussion on Itami, the #improfanfic IRC bot, if *she* hadn't walked in. She was wearing a blue shirt, with casual slacks, and smiled to the room before heading for the refreshments. ColdFury's eyes were rooted to her. The way her hair fell about her as she made her choice in beverage, the glow about her movements, an almost... Kawaii (with a capital K) glow. Calculus followed ColdFury's stare for a moment, trying to figure out why he was suddenly drooling. "Are you okay?" ColdFury turned to Calculus without even taking his eyes off of her. "Is that who I think it is?" He paid close attention to how her shirt hung to her form, and when she dropped some ice on the ground and bent over to pick it up, he paid *closer* attention. Calculus looked at Ardweden and blinked. "Er... Ard?" ColdFury stood suddenly. "Of course! The brunette hair! The face! The aura of Kawaii! Even her name makes me want to glomp her where she stands! She may have resisted my charms on the chat... but she cannot resist me now. For I have the power of Dan on my side... not that I'll use it of course to try and charm a woman, that'd just be stupid." ColdFury made it a clear point to not mention a very embarrassing story involving a bar, a cute woman, and the word "Oyaji". Calculus responded with a sweatdrop. ColdFury nodded to himself... "But... before this party is done, before the last song is sung... I shall turn Ardweden to the hentai side! All I need to do is slowly corrupt her by placing her in hentai situations which will drive her to the grey side! OOOSHA!" Noticing that a few partygoers were staring at him after the rather loud taunt, he sat back down and began plotting his turning of Ardweden. So intent was he on his plotting, he didn't even notice Calculus quietly sneaking away. But it was of no matter, the only thing that mattered now was Ardweden. He would release her hentai side. Once unleashed, she would surely fall for his charms. But how? How could he initiate contact with her? First steps were never his strong suit. Perhaps small talk, or faking a major disaster of catastrophic proportions... "ColdFury?" His heart momentarily stopped beating. His eyes, focused on the carpet during his plotting, slowly turned upwards. He saw her shoes, then her pants. For a minute his frozen mind thought it might see a hint of panty lines, but he forced that thought out of his head to avoid a nosebleed at an inopportune time. This was almost for naught as his eyes traveled the length of the shirt, but the blood vessels in his nose persevered. Finally he made eye contact. He licked his lips as they were suddenly dry, and attempted to fight back his urge to glomp this goddess of Kawaii before him. He failed. "ARD!" *glomp* "Ack!" Ardweden fell backwards under the sudden impact. Before she even felt the ground her Lute of Kawaii was in her hands. As they came to a rest on the ground, her arm was already in a swift motion. "*BONK*" was the last thing ColdFury heard as he slid off of Ard, a large knot on his forehead. ----- Inside a bedroom at Chez Impro, a Very Serious Discussion was about to take place. (This was shortly after a Very Serious Lamp on the nightstand had accidentally been knocked off in the midst of something that would take this story to a "no minors allowed" level. Woofer would've demanded to be compensated for its cost if he wasn't currently occupied with being dead.) "We need to talk." "...eh?" "I have needs, you know. Sure, this has been fun, even with our embarrassing debut in the living room, but I want more from this party than mindless sex. Look at everyone who's here...you're great and all - no, I mean that! - but I really would like to take the chance to spend some time with everyone. You know. Like we both came here to do, before we got...sidetracked." There. That had been the right way to say it. These kinds of things were always tricky, especially with the other person's current mindset about the whole, erm, affair. The other figure considered this. But... who didn't like mindless sex? Who cared about that touchy-feely stuff? This was like something out of a sappy chick flick. "So, are we okay?" There was a long pause. Finally, Illyria shrugged. "Your loss." ----- "Why isn't anybody answering their mobiles?" asked an exasperated Steve, hanging up for what felt like the umpteenth time. ----- Back at Chez Impro, Epsilon laughed evilly at his horrified captive audience. "BWAHA! BWAHAHAHAHA! Not only will the Normaliser rend you all utterly normal, thus depriving the party of its fun lunacy; not only is it composed of parts stolen from game consoles, thus depriving you of your games; it is also composed of your mobile phones, so that your avenues of communication are cut! BWAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" "Squeak," went the mouse, and wriggled in its bonds. All it knew was that something bright and shiny that looked like a cat was in front of it. "Good speech boss!" said Blade. "They'll be quaking in their boots!" "Why thank you lackey. With this I can bluff my way into making everyone admit they are awful hack writers who couldn't write their way out of a paper bag! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" ----- Next door to Chez Impro, the Evil Neighbours From Hell heard Epsilon's speech and celebrated. Finally, all the weirdoes would be less weird and less capable of doing annoying weird stuff. The only one who wasn't overjoyed was Old Bob, who had specially polished his shotgun. "You mean I don't get to kill those wackos?" the old man wheezed. ----- TwoFlower raced through the hallways of Chez Impro and skidded to a halt in front of the bar. It didn't matter if the bartender appeared to be zombified Elvis Presley, he NEEDED some liquid refreshment. It didn't matter if it was Coca-Cola, Dr. Pepper, or strawberry flavoured mineral water - just as long as it was wet and cold and fizzy and sweet and non- alcoholic, it would be enough to take his mind off the evil that Phoebe had just perpetrated upon his ears. He blurted out his request for something cold and fizzy and a glass of a strangely red fizzy drink appeared in front of him in seconds. A few seconds later it was finished and he asked for another. He was about halfway through the second glass of whatever it was before he started to wonder about what he was drinking. "Hey, what is this?" he asked. Zombie Elvis opened his mouth to give an answer that would have chilled TwoFlower to his very bones, so shocking were the contents of the red drink. His stomach was spared the agony of forbidden knowledge, however, as his mobile phone rang loudly, cutting off Zombie Elvis's speech. "Yo, TwoFlower here. Steve Scougall? Hi. What's the deal? ...you want to know where we are." TwoFlower looked through the nearest window and saw the expected sight of a beach, people playing beach volleyball, and the Globe of Gaming Goodness. "Well, yes, we were going to Hawaii at one point, but Dan got at the controls and crashlanded us back where we started from and nobody wants to go through that again. And besides, the thrust jets broke in the crash. Yeah, see you here soon. Bye." "What a strange call," said TwoFlower, as he walked away. "Now, to do something about Phoebe's Evil Plans..." Behind him, the forgotten half-drunk glass of Red Fizzy Stuff started eating through the glass, and then through the bar. ----- On the beach there was a spirited game of beach volleyball going on. Beside it was a spirited game of beach badminton. A bit further down the beach baskets had been tied to trees and a passable game of beach basketball was being played. And in the other direction the less active partygoers were playing beach croquet. nihility leapt into the air and spiked the volleyball hard. It bounced off the volleyball court and into the badminton court. Instead of complaining and stopping play, the badminton players merely shrugged and started using the volleyball as another badminton shuttle. The situation looked grim, and then the volleyball game was saved when the basketball was dunked so hard it bounced out of the basket and straight at nihility. He dove and received it, bouncing it back into the air. A croquet ball then went *bonk* off the side of his head. So when the basketball came back at him, instead of sending it back to his opponent, he spiked it at the croquet players. It bounced off Jonatan (who was providing a much- needed chaotic tint to the game), proceeded into the badminton court, and hit Aaron as well. This was enough for all four games to come to a stop. "HEY!" "Watch where you're hitting that thing!" "Give us back our basketball!" "Only if they give us back our volleyball!" "I'm not giving it back to you, you'll just hit me with it again!" "Why you..." Hackles raised. There was the unsaid threat of nasty words. Harsh glares were glared. Fingers itched to reach into pocket dimensions and retrieve weapons. Jonatan seriously considered setting his dragon on the others. ...the rule "No weapons" was recalled. "Remember, this is a party, no killing each other." "Drat." "Wait a minute, I've got an idea..." A few moments later, after some rules had been hastily worked out, the world's first beach croquet-badminton-volley-basketball game had begun. ----- "Do you think that guy you talked to will actually show up?" Steve asked his companion on the Great ImproCommunity Quest. "I don't know. He sounded a bit weird. Come to think of it, he didn't even tell me his name," Damien Roc answered, sifting some sand with his fingers. "GUYS!" They looked behind them in unison. Approaching the island at high speed was a rowboat occupied by a geeky-looking guy in jeans and a polo shirt. He waved. "I finally found you!" "Guess he made it," Damien shrugged. The youth beached his rowboat, hopped out, and approached the two well-traveled questers. "Hello, the name's Poa, Mark Poa," he said extending a hand. He smiled. "Glad to meet you!" "Steven Scougall. Most people call me Steve," said Steve, shaking the offered hand. "Damien Roc," said Damien Roc. "Can we get going now?" "You know where Chez Impro is?" "Yeah, we managed to call TwoFlower. They're back in San Diego, somehow." "Oh shoot," pouted Mark. "I wanted to use my spiffy computer to find the place." ----- The spirited beach crobadvolbas-ball game entered the second round. Jonatan was the first to serve. As it was the first point of the round, they were using the croquet ball. He picked up the croquet hammer, aimed carefully, and then swung. The ball skimmed low, just a centimeter from the ground, and went through one of his team's croquet hoops. Before it went under the net into the No Man's Land between the nets, Aaron dove and popped it up into the air. NeoVid leaped up after it and spiked it at the opponent's half of the court. As everyone was expecting him to go for the baskets, he aimed at a back corner. nihility cursed mightily. He dove and just managed to return the ball, but couldn't get the ball through any of his team's croquet hoops and it went nowhere near the other side's baskets - this would be a low scoring point for sure. With nihility in the back corner, it was easy for Aaron to spike it through nihility's team's basket and into the sand below. "Let's see," said Eslington, the official crobadvolbas-ball referee and scorer. "That went through one of your croquet hoops and a basket. That makes a total of four points. Not bad for an opener. Aaron, your serve." Aaron stepped up to the serving line. As it was the second point, it was the badminton shuttle's turn. He picked out a badminton racquet, gave it a couple of practice swings, and then boggled at the ocean horizon. Something white had appeared in the far distance, and was quickly becoming bigger. In just a few moments, it had evolved into the recognisable shape of a very large spray of water. We the readers know what it is and what it means, but to the partygoers, crobadvolbas-ball players, and random civilians on the beach, it was a mystery. A mystery heading right for them. "RUN!" shouted Eslington. In the time it took for him to say this, the fantail became twice as large. "IT'S A TORPEDO! WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!" yelled Lawrence, deciding that just this once he could stop lurking and panic instead. With his shout, mass panic ensued and people ran for cover. Once firmly behind something solid, such as a bush or a tree or someone else, they stopped and turned. There was no point in missing what promised to be a massive explosion, after all. In less than twenty seconds the spray was huge, the roaring sound of water drowned out everything else, and it seemed that a torpedo-induced fiery death was imminent. People started wondering if they shouldn't be further away, such as the next state, and then it was too late. Something emerged from the spray and came to a stop on the beach, the spray crashing down around it. The water receded and the mysterious something resolved into three men. There was a man on a bicycle, a teenager in a rowboat, and the last was on foot and carrying several large bags and sacks. All three were looking reverentially at the house. "I never thought I'd make it," said Damien Roc, wiping a tear from his eye. "Finally we're here," said Steve. "I'm here... at the ImproParty!" cheered Mark. "Finally I can meet everyone! Yay!" "Damien!" shouted Phoebe, dragging her K-sama (that is, the transformed Lusipher) along behind her. "Do you have my stuff?" "Yes, right here." Damien unripped the hole in temporal space he'd made a few chapters earlier and retrieved Phoebe's luggage. "What's in all the bags?" asked Jake. "A hundred and forty liters of Coke, a hundred kilograms of potato chips, a hundred kilograms of crackers, a nicely presented guacamole-like dip for the crackers, biscuits of all sort, including Anzac biscuits -" "ANZACS??" shouted Phoebe. "Give me some right now!" "This must be Phoebe," thought Steve. "Nobody else would know what Anzac biscuits are." So thinking, he rummaged around inside one of the sacks and produced a jar of the sweet oatmealy biscuits that were known in Australia and New Zealand as Anzac biscuits and offered it to the New Zealander girl. "Also, three hundred kilos of macadamia nuts and a few Armenian cakes," finished Steve. "Armenian cakes?" Steve wondered how to describe the wonderful crunchy/smooth goodness that was an Armenian cake as cooked by him, and decided not to bother, as his powers of Armenian Cake description were woeful at best. "Tell you what, I'll set them out inside the house and you can try them out, okay?" Damien Roc stared at the crobadvolbas-ball court, which had croquet hoops, two nets, and baskets tied to the nets' posts. Which wasn't all that hard to notice, really. "What's this?" "A crobadvolbas-ball court." "Crobadvolbas-ball?" asked Damien incredulously. "Yes." "What's with the baskets on the nets?" asked Mark. "Well, if the ball goes through one of the baskets on the opponent's side, it scores extra, but only if it's a Winning Point." "...right," said Mark. ----- Kate roamed the halls of Chez Impro with growing despair. Surely *somewhere* there was a worthy opponent... Not quite watching where she was going, she ran into Lady Chaos. "Chaos-sama!" she exclaimed, after apologizing for her carelessness. "Please please play with me!" "Sorry, I'm a little busy right now," Chaos replied. "By the way, have you seen Squall?" Kate quickly rifled through her deck, produced a Squall Leonhart card, and held it out to Chaos. Lady Chaos shook her head. "No, no, the other one." Kate shuffled through her deck and found a John Evans card. "No, no, the *person*," Chaos clarified. "Uh-uh, haven't seen him in a while," Kate answered. "Hmm, he's probably still in the basement." Lady Chaos turned to leave, then remembered something. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to have a Lurker card in there, would you? It's worth 75 points." "Nope, I still need him, Calculus, Ardweden, and Yun to get a complete Impro set," Kate stated. Lady Chaos blinked. "Umm...okay. Oh, do they make a Sephiroth one of those?" "Not yet. Maybe in the next expansion. Wizards of the Coast just has to get into *everything*, don't they?" "Right..." Chaos agreed, with a puzzled expression on her face. "See you later!" She walked off in a bit of a hurry. Kate pouted slightly. She *still* didn't have her opponent. ----- After the initial flurry of activity of the three new arrivals had died down, the crobadvolbas-ball game got back underway. After a few minutes of play, a truly impressive ten-point play by nihility put his team in the lead and into service. nihility stepped up to the service line. This was the eighteenth serve of the game, so it was the basketball's turn. He dribbled it a couple of times in preparation, looking for holes in the other team's defense. He aimed and threw and the game was interrupted yet again, this time by megalomaniacal laughter. "BWAHA! BWAHAHAHAHAHA!" Everybody turned to see Epsilon standing on the patio, and beside him, something covered with a tarpaulin. The shapes visible underneath the covering were strange and boxy. "BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Epsilon continued. "ImproPeople, quake! Quake in your boots! Your time has come! The ImproParty is OVER!" "I only just got here," complained Mark Poa. "That is of no consequence, whoever you are." Epsilon pulled the tarpaulin off the Normaliser with a dramatic flourish and the vaguely catlike machine was revealed. "THIS is the Normaliser! It shall enforce RL physics and make you all utterly NORMAL! All the neat crap you can do will be gone! It's also made of parts stolen from game consoles, thus depriving you of your games! And it is also composed of your mobile phones, so that your avenues of communication are cut! BWAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" There was a loud collective gasp of surprise and terror. With some exceptions: "More normal? My hair'd be much more manageable," mused Steve. "Go ahead, just try it," smirked NeoVid. "Go ahead and see what trying to use something like that on Chaos Power does." "You fail to understand," said Epsilon, smirking right back. "You shall become a Real Life person, with no ability for Chaos Power or whatever it is at all! BWAHAHAHAHA!" He paused and posed dramatically. "But wait! So far I have only told you what this is! I shall give a demonstration!" He reached off-camera and pulled out a trussed up Blade. The struggling batlike creature was placed next to the Normaliser, and Epsilon retreated to a safe distance, and pressed a button on his remote control. There was the combined sound of a hundred people saying "wop" and another hundred saying "poot" backwards, there was a puff of smoke, and where the bat had been there was now a human male, whose physical description shall be withheld as the author doesn't want to say what RL-Blade looks like in a publicly released chibiimprofanfic. He (Party-Blade, not RL-Blade nor the author) was still tied up. "How do we know that's Blade?" The man opened his mouth. "Tarou is the best! He can whip that jerk Ranma's butt any day! The day he left Ultra was a dark day indeed! The whole WORLD shall know the magnificence of Tarou!" "That's Blade, right enough." And there was much shuddering in fear. ----- "They're buying it, boss! The illusion's working!" hissed Blade, from off- camera. "Shut up lackey," Epsilon hissed back. "Don't give yourself away otherwise the deception shall be lost." He watched the illusion next to the Normaliser, which was starting to get to the end of its speech. "Now get back to the trapdoor, I'm about to press the button again." ----- Epsilon pressed the other button on the remote. There was the combined sound of a hundred people saying "poot" and another hundred saying "wop" backwards, there was a puff of smoke, and where the human male had been there was now the familiar batlike creature, still tied up. "See?" gloated Epsilon. "The Normaliser works! I shall finish it and unleash it upon the lot of you! Your days are numbered!" He, Blade, and the Normaliser promptly exited stage right. And lo, there was much gnashing of teeth and shuddering in fear and swearing to find and neutralise the Normaliser. But only in a slight way, for nobody liked the prospect of being turned into totally normal people. "Alright, people, listen up!" yelled Jonatan. "There's a new item on the Scavenger Hunt list. It's that Normaliser, at 500 points!" And lo, there was much cheering and vehement swearing to find and neutralise the Normaliser. ----- Mark wandered around the large house that comprised a large part of Chez Impro. He was halfheartedly searching for the Normaliser, but what he was mainly after was to meet as many of the Impro people as possible. Finally he could actually meet all these people face-to-face, not just via e-mail and the chatroom and the messageboard. But there was one in particular he was searching for. He had to find W4 and thank him for the prereading help the Mad Author had provided. Only, he couldn't find the author anywhere... Oh well, he'd find W4 soon enough. ----- Okay. Time to find something to do. Something to do.... Illyria paused, and looked around the curiously empty room that she'd somehow wandered into. Sigh. It held a distinct lack of something to do. How dare everyone go and start things that didn't involve her while she was busy in the bedroom! The nerve! It should be noted that Illyria was still not in the best of moods. Don't worry. When she starts randomly pelvic thrusting at complete strangers, then you'll know she's fine. A flyer on the wall caught her attention. Blinking, she leaned in closer. "Triple..." She blinked again. "Triad..." She smiled. "Tournament..." She not only smiled, but she did a little aha victory is all but mine! dance. It mainly involved shimmying from side to side a bit, and singing a little song about how she was going to wiiiiin, she was going to wiiiiin. For she had a secret weapon, something that assured her victory. The Perfect Deck. Illyria continued her dance as Kate happened to peer in the room, fingering her own Perfect Deck as she did. "Hi, I don't think I introduced myself before. I'm Kate. Were you thinking about joining the Tourna-" [THRUST] Illyria's bad mood rather seemed to have vanished. ----- "So you didn't get the Clone-O-Matic," said Calculus. There was no anger in his voice. No irritation or pent-up frustration, as might be expected. It was just a flat monotone, as if all his emotion had gone and he was now wafting in a sea of monotony somewhere on the other side of extreme despair. Or he could have just been tired. In any case, he'd just said, "You didn't get the Clone-O-Matic," to Delfina and Dan, who had finally managed to get back to the Chez Impro Complex on foot and broke the bad news to him. "This means we may never be able to bring the dearly departed Woofer back, do you know that?" he asked, in the same flat monotone. Dan cleared his throat nervously. "There IS a possibility," he said. "Yes?" Dan looked even more nervous. Delfina took a look at him and sighed. Obviously Dan wasn't too happy with this possibility and wanted her to tell Calc about it. "Spineless men," she grumbled, and took the responsibility upon her own shoulders. Of course, it helped that she had come with the idea and worked on it some more during the walk back to Chez Impro. "The person who won it is a brat called Orion Wells who wanted it so he could make a friend for his pet rabbit," she exposited. "Now, wouldn't it be a shame if someone was to tamper with the Clone-O-Matic so that it didn't stop at just one rabbit? Wouldn't it be a shame if it just keep on going until the distraught boy's parents, knee deep in rabbits, manage to turn it off? Wouldn't it be a shame for the boy if the machine was tossed out by the irate parents?" Calculus shook his head. "That's wrong. That would be wreaking ruin upon a poor young boy whose only crime was to do his best and win fairly. We couldn't do that to him - it's nasty and mean and unfair; yea, almost a gross violation of his inalienable human rights!" He paused. "I like it. When were you thinking of doing it?" "Um, soon. Er..." There was an uncomfortable pause. Calculus' tone became suspicious. "What is it?" "Well, it's about the Ragnorak..." ----- Jess the Lovely Hot Dog Vendor staggered despondently through the Chez Impro complex. The death of W4 had shook her harder than she thought it would have. She found herself pining for him and wanting to see him again. But he was dead and she couldn't, and it was preying on her mind. She tried logic, telling herself that he'd been seeing another woman and was an adulterous jerk that had to be crushed beneath her heel, and that she was a Modern Woman and didn't need a man. This lasted about a minute before the fires of 'But I Really Liked Him' blasted Logic into smithereens. Then she'd tried the supposedly tried-and-true "He's gone forever and I have to forget him", and this failed also. *Then* she'd tried drowning her sorrows in alcohol, and this had worked much better and she couldn't remember him very well. Unfortunately, there seemed to have been some side effects and everything looked kinda fuzzy and she couldn't remember how to walk very well either. Not that she could remember the other thing she couldn't remember very well, though, but perhaps she wasn't supposed to remember it. She couldn't remember. Her mind gibbered with the overuse of the word 'remember' and decided to think about llamas instead. A pair of fuzzy geeky-looking men wearing identical jeans and polo shirts approached her. "Excuse me miss," they asked in unison, "but I'm new here, and I'm looking for someone. Can you help?" "Sshhuuure," she said. That was another thing, she couldn't get her mouth to work properly, either. She decided to ignore it for a moment. "Who you lookin' fooor?" "W4 the Mad Author," said the two men, again in unison, and it all came back to her. She bawled like a baby, pushed the men over, and ran for it. ----- "She has issues," said Mark Poa, firmly embedded in the floor. ----- Lady Chaos entered the basement. She fully expected to see John Evans in the throes of agonised torture inflicted upon him by the sadistic Impro Inquisition. Therefore it came as quite a surprise to see him sitting in a comfy chair reading a book that was titled "Textual Poachers." "Squall? What's up?" "They're torturing me with the Comfy Chair, and I'm catching up on my reading." "What about the scavenger hunt?" "Well, I'm busy being tortured by the Impro Inquisition." "There's a new item on the list, worth 500 points! And it's somewhere in the house!" John's ears perked up. "Really? That sounds interesting." "Epsi invented a device that makes things around it normal and is threatening us with it. Jonatan was so freaked by it that he added it to the list and said it was 500 points!" "A Reality Enforcer? That does sound interesting. But..." "Oh come on, I'm sure it would be a lot more fun that being tortured." "There is that." John got up from the chair, looking guilty. "I'm just not sure I should be doing this." "Oh come on!" "Oh, alright." John placed a bookmark inside the book. "Just let me do something first." A few moments later, the Saviour of Impro and the Wolf-Eared Girl had left. All that was left was a note on the comfy chair, saying "I'm sorry, but something came up and I had to leave. I'm sure we can finish the torture session some other time. - John" ----- Steve was slightly unsure of what to do next. Alright, he'd finally got to the party, met a large number of his fellow Impro Authors, and had more Coca-Cola than was humanly possible, but there seemed to be something missing. In short, he needed something to DO. Something to strive towards. Something he could do while still meeting people and drinking Coca-Cola. He needed to join the Scavenger Hunt. He started ticking things off in his head. He'd need a list of the items, something to store items in, and to belong to a team. Maybe Damien wanted to join the Scavenger Hunt as well. Or maybe there was a team he could join. Steve finished his current glass of Coke, put it down with a decisve clink, and set off in hunt of a list, a bag (or equivalent), and a team. Oh, and to have fun too. ----- "bwahahahaha," said Epsilon, quietly this time. He didn't want to attract attention to himself, after all. But it felt right to laugh. After all, with everyone out searching for the Normaliser they didn't know was a hoax, he was free to sneak into what he'd come to call the Manuscript Room and correct any manuscripts that were lying around. It definitely wasn't his primary goal, not by a longshot. But it'd do very well until he could put Phase 2 of the "Making Everyone Admit They Are Awful Hack Writers And Pay Homage To Epsilon" Evil Plan into effect. "The lunch menu in this El-Hazard fic doesn't have any mention of Tarou in it!" complained Blade. "I must correct this oversight!" ----- Behind the bushes that separated Chez Impro from the Evil Neighbours From Hell, two figures sat and plotted and exposited on their evil plans for the sake of the readers. "Alright, Cousin Pete, ya clear on what the plan is?" "Yeah, I got it, Hardhead Fred. We sneak in there an' find that Normalise- ator-gator thingy so we's can use it on 'em weirdoes ourselves right now instead of waitin'. An' we wear these." The redneck yobbo held up an Extra Large Sailor Senshi outfit and looked at it doubtfully. "Are you sure these disguises'll work?" "'course they will, I saw them wackos watchin' Sailor Moon type shows when I was spyin' on 'em through the window." As might be inferred from their mode of conversation, the two speakers were very large musclebound (not to mention musclebrained) redneck yobbo men who would stand out even more than usual if they were wearing Sailor Senshi fukus. But they were too thick to work this out themselves. ----- "Hey, that's my coathanger! Give it back!" "No," said Rain, and proceeded to mutilate the coathanger in a way that would have Aaron Shattuck proud if it wasn't his special meant-for- squirrels coathanger that was being twisted and bent. He made several efforts to grab the coathanger away but was foiled at every turn by the quicker Rain. "Give it back give it back giveitback!" frothed Aaron. "GIVE IT - wow, I didn't know that if you did that to a coathanger you could use it to open a door from the wrong side." Rain smirked, and twisted the coathanger back into the shape it had been in, and handed it back. "Here's your coathanger. Now that we've come out of the closet, let's go cause some mass destruction!" "Do I get to see what a woman's liver looks like?" "Probably." "Cool!" "Ladies and gentlemen, the Twisted Pair are upon us," said the Narrator, before Aaron did something really horrible to him involving a llama, barbed wire, a glass bowl, and birdseed. (TO BE CONTINUED, BY KATE MALLOY) ===== Starring: Mark Poa: Chez Impro Steve Scougall: Chez Impro Damien Roc: Chez Impro ColdFury: Chez Impro Chris: Basement W4: Dead - In the iceberg. Iron Chef Chen Kenichi: Kitchen Nick: Living Room Anko: Chez Impro Yun Cheolsu: Out Cold - Game Room BlackMage: living room Kate Malloy: Chez Impro TwoFlower: Chez Impro Squall: Basement Hottcoffee: Chez Impro Myth: Chez Impro Tameran: Living Room Stephica: Still in a bedroom with Roe Omi no Miko: Chez Impro Delfina: Wheel of Fortune Parking Lot Phoebe: Chez Impro Ardweden: Chez Impro Keith Richards: Dead - Bar Ura: Bar Roe: Still in a bedroom with Stephica Jess: Chez Impro somewhere Chaos: Basement Lusipher: Chez Impro Zombie Elvis: Still Dead - Bar Kimberli: Chez Impro Calculus: Chez Impro Eternal Lost Lurker: Bar Lawrence: Chez Impro Rain: In the closet, with Aaron Shattuck Wang Tu Chun Out cold - Bedroom Eslington: Chez Impro Jonatan: Chez Impro Epsilon: Chez Impro NeoVid: Chez Impro Fatman: Chez Impro Aaron: Chez Impro nihility (Eric): Chez Impro Illyria: Chez Impro Ravi: Chez Impro Aaron Shattuck Closet - with Rain Jake: Chez Impro Blade: Chez Impro Mecha Tom Green: San Diego ? Todd: Hunting down bishounens Dan: Wheel of Fortune Parking Lot Dragon: Front Yard Random: GGG Katy: Chez Impro somewhere Ragnorak: With Todd, hunting down bishounens. Leonardo DiCaprio: Dead??? Please. Evil Neighbours From Hell: Next door to Chez Impro Cousin Pete: Just outside Chez Impro, in a Sailor fuku Hardhead Fred: Just outside Chez Impro, in a Sailor fuku ===== Author's Note: Whee! That was fun! And just a few days ago I had virtually nothing and no idea of what I should put in. I thought that the fic needed some conflict and antagonists. I also wondered what the neighbours were doing. Two ideas became one and the Evil Neighbours From Hell were born. But feel free to kill Pete and Fred off or have them meet up with Aaron Shattuck or something, that might make the other Evil Neighbours From Hell decide to back off. In a fit of silliness and in the fine tradition of Calvinball I came up with the idea of Crobadvolbas-ball and decided to run with it. ^_^ Scenes and suggestions were provided by ColdFury, Mark Poa, Kate Malloy, Illyria, Epsilon, Rain and NeoVid. This chapter was preread by Philip Barkow, Phoebe, Eslington, Mark Poa, and Kate Malloy. A great big "Thank you!" goes to all of them. Without their help, this would be a sad little chapter barely anymore than 20k and an "oh well". Thanks for reading. Steven Scougall http://www.crosswinds.net/~sscougall/ 14th Jan 2000