Establishing satellite link…
Sending Transmission from space-time coordinates
W:14×10^9 X: 94.7 Y: 204.38 Z; 42
Outskirts of Raccoon City
(Fade up on a sun-baked dirt road. After a few minutes Dr. Azathoth, Atomo and Farmer brown step over a ridge and into view. Atomo is carrying a gas can and all three are drenched in sweat.)
Farmer Brown: Dagnabit Doc, we’ve been walking for miles… Why couldn’t we stay in the truck while Atomo went for the mechanic?
Dr. Azathoth: I’m already late for this engagement as it is. Besides, if your vehicle ran half as much as your mouth, we’d already be there.
FB: Oh, right, like it’s my fault you took out all them gaskets and sprockets and stuff outta my truck.
Dr. A: I needed the parts to build a new camera; That old Atomotron was idiotic; How can I show off my robot if people can’t even see him?
FB: You know Doc, most people would just go down to the store if’n they needed a video camera. Besides, what the hell kinda camera needs sparkplugs?
Dr. A: Oh, be silent, peon, we’re here.
(Pan around… this edge of Raccoon city seems curiously bereft of citizens. Atomo uses this pause to take a long swig from his gas can.)
Atomo: AHHH. SCANNING-AREA…
A:SCAN-COMPLETE; 0 LIFE-SIGNS, 42 UNLIFE-SIGNS, CONVERGING-ON-THIS-SECTOR.
(As Atomo says this, dozens of horrible rotting zombies start streaming out from inside the various buildings and alleyways)
Dr. A: Ah, I thought I smelled something unusual.
FB: Great googly-moogly-spoogly! What on earth are those things?!
Dr. A: Those, my good man, are clearly Zombies. They appear to exhibit characteristics consistent with the modern American type.
(Suddenly, the ground begins to tremble and a huge form bursts from the ground. It’s all rotting flesh, dull glassy eyes and jagged yellow teeth)
Dr. A: I’m not quite sure what that is, though… It does have some characteristics of a class three radiomutate, but at the same time with traces of an 80’s style biochem creature…
(As Dr. Azathoth stands contemplating the gargantuan terror, a horde of zombies rushes [well, shambles] past him, and hog piles Farmer Brown. A few stragglers try to bite Atomo, but without much success.)
Big Monster Thing: Thi splase iz terror! Intrder sshall be dis troyed! Yuw ill be dis troyed! Reaaaaagh!
Dr. A: Hey, wait a minute! I know that voice… Stickman! Dick Stickman! I haven’t seen you since college! How’s it going, man?
Stickman: Doc tor Azathoth! I have n’t sin yu sinse college! Wat yu bin up too?
Dr. A: Oh, you know, this and that. Spent some time trying to find myself in the nether-world, worked on some indy films
A: CLARIFICATION: PORN.
Dr. A: Built this idiot, spent an unfathomable period of time enduring fantastic amounts of pain in another dimension, and now I’m a pro-wrestling manager. How bout you? You seem to have done all right for yourself.
S: Yez, am now gool leader! Yu sayd liberl arts degree not amount to anything!
Dr. A: Well, I stand corrected. Anyway, I’d love to get caught up, but right now Atomo and I are late for a match…
S: Iz that whad that iz? I thot it waz moron convention! Not normally get such eezy prey!
Dr. A: Well, it can be hard to tell with these wrestlers. Speaking of, I think I should probably insult a couple of them, as otherwise this segment serves no purpose.
S: Inzult awai!
Dr. A: Oh… let’s see… That doofus Trable seems to have up and vanished, which is not surprising, considering he was soon to face the wrath of Atomo, The Living Robot!
A: IT-IS-A-SHAME-AS-I-CALCULATE-MY-CHANCES-OF-SUCCESS-AT-NEARLY 72%, MUCH-HIGHER-THEN-MY-CHANCES-WITH-
Dr. A: Festering Death, what the heck is wrong with you guys? Haven’t you tired of this pathetic kill/rape gimmick? You think you can shock a being such as I by such prosaic acts as murdering Girl Scout troupes? I was there when the mother-of-all, Shub-Niggurath was raped in each of her sixteen-hundred orifices by a descendant Uber-Fiend. The psychic shockwave destroyed nine proto-universes and was the first genesis of Zager and Evans. So go ahead, try to frighten me with your petty acts of violence. I look forward to watching you try your petty tricks against real evil.
A: I-DO-NOT. MY-BUTTOCKS-ARE-VERY-PRECIOUS-TO-ME.
Dr. A: Next, Steve Studnuts. Calm down Mr. Studnuts, I wasn’t trying to rile you when is said your name was stupid, I was merely pointing out an objective fact. The proper person to argue with is your whore of a mother. Again, not trying to be insulting, just pointing out the fact that your mother has undoubtedly turned a trick or two. I’ve asked around, and numerous sources confirm this. Anyway, as I was saying, I have no desire to start a fight with you, or the two other, rather more dangerous members of the iAd. It would be foolish of us to try to take on such formidable opponents at this juncture, so please, calm down. You have enough on your plate with Sir Zeno.
Dr A: Speaking of whom, I did have a couple of comments for you, oh Lord of Dimension Z. First of, don’t underestimate that hideous little imp known as “Coma”. He may seem harmless, but he was savvy enough to book himself a title win at the latest pay-per-view. Besides that, a seemingly innocent exterior can hide limitless potential for evil; believe me, I know first-hand.
Also, regarding your comments in your challenge to Mr. Studnuts: Who stole whose gimmick, now?
Over and out simians, I’m going for coffee with my old friend here, while Atomo heads on to the match.