A voice in his head laughed at him. Your name? he taunted. Your name is so pathetic it will cause people to roll on the floor in laughter! You can’t even afford an entire roof for your secret hideout!
Shut up! responded Oigroig. I don’t want to hear you anymore!
Oiroig quickly stifled any rebuttal by gazing into the distracting device that lay beside the candle and scribbling down the words it spouted out. It was an ingenious contraption, this invention of his: it constantly scoured the earth for names it found interesting or cool and reported periodically in puffs of smoke and flame. For his evil ambition was to crush all those with good names; the brutal teasing he’d endured as a kid had embittered him to the point of mania. He spent every evening recording the names that issued from the trinket and plotting bloody and gleeful murder on each one.
He was about to switch off the machine and go to bed (it was nearly 2:00 in the morning) when it started to rain.
“Augh No My list of names is getting ruined ” he screamed.
It was true; all the names he’d tirelessly jotted down flowed away in cascades of ink. Oigroig was outraged. He’d spent the entire week writing those effing names In his fury, he decided to just kill the person that next came from his Name-Spewer. Eagerly did he await the next name’s arrival until, at last, one came:
“Yes This Magorian shall perish, and I shall take his name His name will be mine But how do I take it? How do I rout the Name-Bearer?”
Oigroig proceeded to reflect on which evil clichéd scheme would be the most diabolical. After all, if he wanted to be an evil genius, he had to start his world conquest with a bang. He finally made up his mind, as dawn’s first light started to shine through the grime-encrusted and tiny windows. He would use sabotage and trickery to make other people do it for him.
Rubbing his hands together and cackling (a rather awkward cackle, as his voice was cracking), Oigroig proceeded to send incriminating documents framing Magorian in strategic places. He was really looking forward to the one he placed in 007 headquarters and in Dr Light’s laboratory. Alas, only two groups were stupid enough to take the bait…
[The Batmobile screeches to a halt in an outpost somewhere in the interstate highway system]
Robin: Batman, why did we have to stop at this gas station? Why couldn’t we have stopped and asked for directions before?
Batman: Because I’m a man, Robin, no matter how many times you saw me trying on that lovely corset. And men don’t ask for directions. I’ve stopped for gas.
Robin: But the gas gauge isn’t empty
[points at gas gauge]
Batman: Shut up, Robin, or I’ll have to spank you again.
[gas station attendant arrives]
Batman: Hello… [reads nameplate] … Habib. I need twenty bucks’ worth of regular, please. [he leans in and whispers] I don’t actually need it, I just need directions. Could tell me how to get to “Hogwarts,” England and then pretend to fill up the tank?
Habib: Why?
Batman: I’ll give you twenty bucks extra.
Habib: Deal. Go off Interstate 6 and make a left at Philadelphia. Head straight down Exit 17 and stop at the Grease Emporium in Charleston, South Carolina. You’ll need to be all lathered up in it to pass the evil gophers that guard the shore. Then do the Macarena to appease the Sea God Poseidon and it’s just a brief swim across the Atlantic Ocean.
[Habib hides his snickering with a hand over his mouth]
Batman: [still whispering] Thank you.
All of a sudden, the thunder of hooves could be heard from beyond the horizon. Soon enough, a veritable army could be seen galloping towards them.
Habib: Oh my god.
[he squints]
There are people… they’re carrying torches And riding cows Run everyone Run for your lives
But before he can do so, the crazed riders reach the hapless gas station attendant.
Habib: ARRRGH
You can probably guess what happened to him. Anyway, these once-docile people were obviously riled up after poring over pages of the Good Book for too many hours a day (one could only read about splitting babies in two and drinking someone’s blood so many times before losing his or her mind, after all) and thirsty for blood.
Ichabod: Look, Jeb, it’s another one of them “technologies ” Let’s pillage it too
Jebediah: Ah, I’m kinda tired of razing everything we see to the ground. How much farther ‘til we reach Hogwarts?
[Ichabod takes out his map]
Ichabod: Let’s see… we’re here… Hogwarts is over there… hmm…
[Ichabod strokes his chin and looks confused. Jebediah snatches it out of his hands]
Jebediah: Give me that [he looks at the map] You idiot This is a coupon-book for Spam
Ichabod: I’m an idiot? What about the time you mistook the butter churner for your wife?
Jebediah: Hey, I could have sworn it called me handsome
Batman: Excuse me gentlemen, but I couldn’t help but overhear that you were looking for Hogwarts. It seems we share a common destination, and I’d be more than happy to give you folk a ride. Whad’ya say?
Jebediah: Sure. Why not?
Batman: Alright I’m sure you’ll like our little road trip. Just one rule, fellas--no cow poop on the leather seats. They’re quite expensive.
Magorian trotted around the forest absentmindedly, looking for a snack before he set off for Australia. His favorite was mushroom and sparrow sandwiches. He liked the mushroom to have little strips of spotted owl on it, and the sparrow to be full of yummy intestines. His favorite method of killing the sparrow was twisting its vertebrae and using its own beak to gouge out its eyes, then lick--
All of a sudden, almost as if the author wanted to break away from that rather unsettling paragraph, a rustling in the nearby bushes alerted Magorian. The steadfast centaur stood his ground, unsure of what might emerge from the shrubbery and a little taken by surprise.
Finally, the creature surfaced. It was… no, it couldn’t be… a centaur… a female one... A female centaur!
Loads of questions entered his thoughts. Did a fish ever die of being burned to death? Did Mary Poppins have an OFF switch? What does love got to do with it? And, foremost, who was this beautiful woman standing in front of him at this very moment?
As though she read his mind, she answered. “Hi. My name is Sinistra, but you can call me anything you want. I’m here to show you the wonderful world beyond the outskirts of this forest with me.” Everything she said sounded entirely rehearsed and without emotion.
“But aren’t your kind only found in Australia?” Magorian answered skeptically.
“Um… yes. Yes they are.” She was obviously thinking quickly and on the spot.
“We must travel to Australia… and meet my tribe.”
Then she smiled, not because she liked Magorian, but because she had discovered a way to get him out of the forest.
“Sounds good to me!” said the lovably gullible ruffian.
This fic brought to you by SPAM.
SPAM- if you don’t like it, you’re a loser.
S*P*A*M
(:^D
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