Sunday, June 04, 2006

(Bw) A-Ha-Ha!

That Foolish Hippo and his band of ruffians think they neutralized the hypnotic power of Xister by melting down my Scrying Spoon, tying my shoelaces together and leaving me to fend for myself in a late-night McDonald's in the east end of Montreal. I was further taken aback to realize that my polished Parisian French was nigh-unintelligible to these Canadian Francophones. However, an unfathomable genius such as mine cannot be thwarted so easily, and two days and several dozen Happy Meals later, I was free!

My first action was to trade my boots in for a pair of laceless loafers. My next was to hasten back to my time machine, which I had left disguised as piece of public art in a downtown park. I found it covered in French graffiti, and the skateboarders seem to have used it as some kind of launching pad, because it was covered in wheel marks and scuffs as well. But the temporal drive was still working, so I set the clock for my birthday and had a small but gay party for myself in an attempt to alleviate my somewhat dejected spirits.

Hey you punks! Keep off my time machine!

Then, while surfing the net and checking up on my arch-foes at Fakiegrind, I discovered, much to my glee, that Flatlander has been let go as administrator of the website. What's more, the fools are looking for a new webmaster to replace the foppish freestyler. The intricate clockwork gears of my formidable mind were instantly set into motion with a new and fiendish plot to overthrow Dept. H and set myself up as the indisputable Overlord of all of Blogland.

Yes, revenge will be swift and sweet, but to claim my rightful destiny I knew I would have to resuscitate and old colleague of mine, a certain magnetic master of disguise and mayhem. So, I navigated my time machine to materialize deep within the bowels of Dept. H's Bunker 51 warehouse, and there, amidst the well-catalogued UFO fuselages and freezer units full of eerily glowing cadavers of unidentified interstellar species, I found the object of my quest.

I pried open the wooden crate and shone my flashlight into the darkened interior. Yes, he was all there: metallic body parts gleaming in the half light, facial sensors dead, for the moment, awaiting only a revivifying electrical current to course through its microprocessors and re-animate the most deadly robotic assassin in this sector of the known galaxy.

I hauled my disassembled friend back to the time machine, and set to the work of re-attaching his appendages. When all was in place, I uncoiled a yellow extension chord and plugged it into the back of the head-port marked "recharge". A spark, a whirring of internal gyromechanisms, and the android's fingers started to twitch as microhydraulic mechanisms set the cyberflesh to animation.

Yes, I bellowed. Yes! Come, my metallic friend. Arise to your destiny. Open your bionic eyes to the light of a new day in which we shall finally crush the simpering Fakiegrinders beneath our masterful boot! The time is upon us! The time for us to



Anonymous Anonymous said...

You will not succeed! Fakiegrind has many supporters and Flatlander may be away for now but I'm sure he will know when he is needed - as will his friends.

4:17 AM  
Blogger Gyrobo said...

No... Maskatron... I... I knew Evil Robo-Bob Dole and OneStar were planning something, being quiet and all. But I never knew they would reawaken Maskatron...

We are doomed. Dooooooomed! Dooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooomed!

3:44 PM  
Blogger Bathroom Hippo said...

I assume Non-Xister made The Adjuster Mal-Adjuster?

You shall pay for your crimes.

3:36 AM  
Blogger Non-Xister said...

The soon-to-be-Non-You assumes too much!

9:22 PM  
Blogger Metapirate said...

Roller skates!
Hot dates!
Tax rebates!
Packing crates!
Creaky gates!
Spinning plates!
Interest rates!

It all equates.
Within the metapirate.

8:29 PM  
Blogger Roboshrub Incorporated said...

It could be worse. He has a time machine, he might have picked up a Dalek from the time wars.

We'd all be dead.

10:25 PM  
Blogger Rick Anonymi said...

That is debatable. The only thing that matters to me is destroying all forms of communication invented before the Internet sprouted from the back of the mighty turtle.

5:43 AM  
Blogger Roboshrub Incorporated said...

I think the agents realized that we check their blog often enough to be forewarned of any attacks, and stopped posting.

Or they're trapped in the past.

12:38 PM  
Blogger Gyrobo said...

Maybe they're trapped in the future.

3:58 PM  
Blogger Rick Anonymi said...

Land sakes! The fact that this blog remains is a testament to the stoic structural engineering of the hypnotic Cheddarists!

7:24 PM  

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