LNH Comics Presents: It's All In The Timing Part Six
The Continuing (but soon to be over) MisAdventures of Bad-Timing Boy
Co-starring Cheesecake Eater Lad
"You try to show off on the firm computer
to impress the new girl at your work.
You wipe the last six months accounts,
and confirm her suspicions that you are a jerk.
Ooooh, bad luck."
- "Bad Luck", Funny Business.
*-*
To recap: Brad (Bad-Timing Boy) and Synchronicity (Good-Timing Girl) are
trying to decide if it is worth attempting to get their powers back.
While they are discussing it, Cheesecake Eater Lad is knocked out,
kidnapped, and tied to a Whirling Machine'O'Death. Some people have all
the luck. :-)
*-*
No nearer to any decision on their possible futures with or without
powers Brad and Synchronicity headed back to where they left Cheesecake
Eater Lad. Discovering him not there (as per the recap above) they search
the area and discover a club which has bits of cheesecake stuck to it.
"Someone must have kidnapped him." said Brad.
"You don't sound particularly worried." said Synchronicity.
"I'm not, this sort of thing happens to us on a fairly regular
basis, it's covered in our insurance policies. Now if this your average
type of kidnapping, then there should be a clue around here to lead us to
the HQ of the bad guys."
"And if it isn't?"
"Then we're probably about to be attacked."
On cue, several large men ambushed them.
The two former heros fought them off for about 10 seconds before
being overwhelmed again. Fighting back to back they managed to continue
holding off the men, but it wouldn't be too long before they were captured.
"Run away!" yelled Brad.
"Buy them off!" yelled Synchronicity.
"Capitalist!"
"No, shopaholic."
"I should introduce you to Writers Block Woman," muttered Brad,
"Now let's get out of here!"
"If you insist."
With a flash of yellow light, Brad and Synchronicity were on top
of the building.
"Huh?" said Brad coherently.
"Teleportation powers remember?" reminded Synchronicity, peering
over the building's edge. "Now we can follow them and find out where they
took Cheesecake Eater Lad."
"Have you done this before?"
***
Synchronicity and Brad watched as the goons (Ahoy Neddie!) entered a
building. Sneaking in after them, they hid behind a table as the men
reported their failure to another man, who then reported it into an intercom.
"Do you think we should attack?" asked Synchronicity.
"Well, let me think," said Brad, "There's the two of us, against
a room full of bad guys, we don't have any powers (except for your
teleporting) and we're not very good unarmed fighters, on the plus side,
they won't be expecting it."
"A simple no would have sufficed."
The duo snuck out.
"We need reinforcements." said Synchronicity.
"Yeah. Tell you what, if we teleport back to LNHHQ, we can pick
up some of the others, Kid Kirby, Ultimate Ninja, the rest of Generation
Y maybe." said Brad.
"We don't have that much time, and I know where we can get
reinforcements right here."
"You do?"
"Sure. We'll go to my place and get my sisters."
"You have sisters?"
"Uh huh, Sensibility and Sensitivity, AKA Practical Girl and
Emotive Lass. And there's always Frank."
"You know, it doesn't make sense to me that he's called Frank and
you guys have got those long names."
"Well, he's actually named Sincerity, so we called him Earnest,
but he said he was more frank than earnest and so..."
"Synchronicity."
"Yes?"
"I don't wish to know that."
"You don't have to call me by my full name all the time either,"
said Synchronicity.
"Why? What do your siblings call you? Ethel?" asked Brad
sarcastically.
"Oh no, we just contract it, call me Syncity."
"Syncity who." asked Brad, who had a sneaking suspicion that the
name jokes were not yet over.
"Syncity Millar. Brad, why are you banging your head against the
ground like that?"
"Sigh. Let's just go and get your sisters."
Another flash of yellow light, and the duo were gone.
***
Later...
Brad looked over the team. Syncity had changed into a new outfit
and looked ready to kill. Brad knew this because the last time she had
looked like this she'd tried to kill _him_. Next to her were her two
sisters. Sensitivity, who was calling herself Emotive Lass, had long
blonde hair and big blue eyes and wore a purple outfit with a plunging
neckline. Sensibility, AKA Practical Girl, had brown hair and eyes, and was
wearing body armour and a belt full of tools. The girls had provided him
with a flak jacket to wear over his costume and a spear for a weapon.
"Are we ready?" asked Practical Girl.
"I'm feeling in tune with your readiness. But I sense danger."
said Emotive Lass.
"Let's do it." announced Syncity. And before Brad could add his
line to the characterisations she teleported them inside.
Arriving in the building, the heros found themselves surrounded.
They lost the fight and were captured.
(WHOA! Hold on there!)
What?
(What happened to the fight scene?)
Fight scene?
(You know, the one where the heros fight valiantly against
overwhelming odds but were dragged down by the sheer number of their
adversaries.)
But we did that.
("They lost the fight and were captured?" You call that a fight
scene?)
Oh sorry, did you want more?
(Yes!)
Oh okay. Teleporting into the ring of thugs the heros were taken
briefly by surprise. "Hellfire!" yelled Brad...
(No, no, no. It's bloody pointless having one _now_ isn't it,
when you've already told everyone who's going to win and how it's going
to turn out.)
But you said...
(Oh for pete's sake just get on with the story and leave the
narrators arguing with each other to Chris Gumprich).
*sulks* Very well then...
"Finished?" asked Brad.
Yup. (Yes).
Ahem, whilst the two narrators had been arguing, the villains had
taken Brad, Syncity, Emotive Lass and Practical Girl and had tied them to
the Whirling Machine'O'Death, where Cheesecake Eater Lad was also tied.
"Hey CELad, you okay?" asked Brad.
"Yup, except for the fact that I've been hit on the head,
kidnapped, and tied up to a death machine."
"I sense your pain." Emotive Lass assured him.
Cheesecake Eater Lad stared at her, then looked at Brad, "Do I
want to know?"
"Nope."
"Hello my little heros, I hope you are all... comfortable." a
shadowy figure loomed out of the mysteries. (What?) Shhhh. "And now I
believe it is time for my exposition..."
to be continued...
Next Issue: The exposition - the reason for this whole thing. Will Brad
and Syncity get their powers back? Will the author get over this thing
for names starting with s and ending with ity? A climatic fight scene
will take place and also be described. Don't miss it!
Credits:
Bad-Timing Boy and Cheesecake Eater Lad are Public Domain.
Everybody else belongs to themselves.
***
Culinary Disasters Three
By Hubert Bartells
"What's for dinner?" Panta asked, stopping at the crowd outside the cafeteria
door.
Mainstream Man leered at Panta's attire. She was wearing a bikini bottom and
a Digital Pink T-shirt, shortened to reveal Panta's furry white midriff. Her
feet were bare; a cat bell hung from her neck. They were the only things that
Panta could find to wear. The effect was almost indecent while not revealing
anything naughty.
The effect short-circuited his brain and left him speechless. He stared as
Panta turned to his companion, Sardonic Boy. "Dinner?" she asked again.
"Sure, Panta," the master of the snide remark answered quickly. "Pick you
up at 7ish?"
Panta blinked. "Err..."
The cafeteria door swung open. List Lad leaned out with a clipboard in hand.
"Sarcastic Lad?" he yelled out to the crowd.
"He ain't here." someone replied.
"Bandwagon Boy?"
"Ain't been seen around for a while."
"Super Apathy Lad - no, scratch him. Triva King?"
"Out of state, be back on Thursday."
"Panta?"
Panta blinked again. She twisted around, looking for someone to tell her what
was going on. But the crowd surged forward, pushing her in front of List Lad.
"Ah, good. There you are," List Lad said, marking a name on his clipboard.
"It's
your turn for kitchen duty."
"B-B-But-t-t," the leopard girl began.
List Lad grabbed Panta by a cat ear and dragged her inside.
"Ow," Panta said as the master of the list let her ear go.
"Listen, Panta - with CheeseCake Eater Lad gone, it's up to the LNH people to
volunteer to cook for the rest of us. Everyone is on the list - and it's your
turn now. If you need help or advice, ask someone.
Panta rubbed her ear. "OK," she finally nodded.
The door swung shut behind List Lad, leaving the little leopard girl alone
in the kitchen. Acres of brightly polished stainless steel faced her in
every direction. Hundreds of huge stainless steel pots stood on shelves,
waiting to be used. The back wall had dozens of huge ovens ready. And a
roll-up factory door was on her right, marked 'Pantry'.
Panta sighed and she turned on the kitchen computer, searching for an easy
recipe.
"Take 20,000 potatoes..." one recipe began. They had all been scaled up to
serve the large number of people that lived and worked in the LNH Headquarters.
Panta thought about peeling 20,000 potatoes and flicked to the next recipe.
Finally finding something that would be foolproof and easy, Panta turned to the
pantry.
The door cranked up slowly, revealing a warehouse of foodstuffs packed in
bulk. Beets in 1,000 kilo cages. 10,000 cans of tomato soup per crate. All
in sizes much too large for Panta to move.
It was with a sight of relief than Panta spotted the Power Suit in the corner.
An advanced version of the Power Loader used by Ripley in 'Aliens', it would
allow her to move and shift the crates and boxes in the pantry.
Panta smiled. She climbed into the seat, pulled her tail aside, adjusted her
skimpy T-shirt and fingered the power-up switch. Her feet on the walk pedals,
her hands in the arm controls, the power suit's diesel engine thundered to
life.
Wheeee! Thump. Wheee. Thump. Wheeeee-thud. The power suit was fun to drive.
Panta easily lifted four crates of cauliflower aside to reach for a crate
of flaked mashed potatoes.
* * *
>From the cage of the Power Suit, Panta looked around the kitchen. 40,000
gallons of water was boiling nicely, ready to have the potatoes flakes
added. The drums of peeled apples and onions had been poured onto a
frying surface, along with dozen hogheads of cooking oil. They needed
to be stirred from time to time to keep from burning; the Power Suit
used a 3 meter spatula for the stirring.
Wheeee-chunk. Panta turned to the meat cooker. The meat locker was almost
empty - but luckily, there was one item in abundance - the item that Panta
needed for her recipe. It was a lot of work to peel the meat from the
wax paper and place them on the hot cooker - but now, they were cooking
nicely, browning at the edges. It had taken 3000 gallons of cooking fat
to prepare the surface but the Power Suit's sprayer made it go quickly.
"Heh-heh-heh"
Panta turned to see who had come into the kitchen. Wheeee-thump.
Manga Man stood between the empty pastry tables and the rows of dishwashers.
He wore a Power Armor equipped with shoulder mounted Akiyama missiles,
forearm-mounted Gatling guns and hip mounted lasers. His head unit was
open so that he could talk. "I heard you were back," he sneered, "heard
that you could change into Pretty Sailor Senshi Panta. Heard that you have
the OverCute Gem."
Panta tried to put one hand in front of her mouth in horror. The action
raised the Power Suit's massive arm.
"I want it," Manga Man said, closing the head unit. The Gatling guns
whined as he spun them up. From the lasers, twin red aiming beams shot out.
Panta gasped. She only had an unarmed Power Suit in a kitchen. The Overcute
Gem was with her Sailor suit, upstairs. She would not be able to change.
"Korosu!" Manga Man shouted. "Shi-ne!"
"Whirrrrrr!" His Power Armor stitched 20mm armor piecing bullets across the
wall of ovens.
Panta whirled her Power Suit around as the bullets barely missed her. Almost
as an accident, she pressed the cooking oil button. A pump whirled into action,
pulling hot corn oil from the LNH's tanks and spraying it at high pressure
through the Power Suit's left hand.
At 200 degrees C, the hot oil sprayed across the Power Armor. Manga Man's
cooling coils began to glow and smoke. The Gatling guns slowed and stopped
as the oil fouled the rotating barrels.
"Kuso," Manga Man swore. He took a few running steps to put the leopard girl's
Power Suit in the crosshairs of his Akiyama missile launchers.
His third step brought the helpless leopard girl within range - his fourth
step brought him disaster. The Power Armor's feet slipped from underneath
him. The suit's gyros, already heating up, failed to restore the suit's
balance; he tottered and fell over, face forward.
The suit kept sliding in the puddle of cooking oil. It hit the back wall,
smoking. Then Manga Man accidently triggered the missiles.
Panta turned away as the back of the kitchen erupted into flame. Bits and
pieces of Power Armor flew everywhere. Then the firesprinklers came on;
Manga Man and his ruined suit disappeared behind a wall of pinkish foam.
Somehow, in the mess and confusion, Manga Man made his escape.
Panta sighed. Luckily, she still had time to turn the apples and onions
before they burned. She didn't think that any of the food was damaged.
* * *
"What's this?" California Kid asked. He stood in the cafeteria line as
Panta dished out her cooking.
"Liver and apples and onions on a bed of mashed potatoes. With gravy! Yum!"
Panta smiled.
"Ugh!" California Kid shuddered. He hated liver.
"Next!" Panta said, ignoring the surfer dude.
Cannon Fodder looked sadly at the thick slice of perfectly browned, juicy
liver. He didn't like liver either.
"Next!"
"And how much did you cook?" Ultimate Ninja said as Panta spooned gravy
over the liver and apples and onions and mashed potatoes.
"Silly me," Panta giggled, "when I ran the program to compute the recipe's
yield, I mistyped the number of people. I've got enough liver and onions
to feed 20,000 people. So, please feel free to come back for seconds. And
thirds..."
Panta is copyright Hubert. God knows about the rest of ya.
***
Culinary Disasters Four
By Ian Porell
>>So this is it,<< Tad thought. >>I'm Kid Kiwi, a full-fledged
probationary LNHer. I belong to an ancient tradition of heroism, protecting
the weak from the Evil and so on. And these,<< he thought, tapping the
envelope Errand Boy had dropped off, >>are my first orders. What could it
be? Is Acton Lord on the loose again? Another Robot Invasion? Perhaps a
threatened continent at the very least?<<
Tad's hands shook as he tore open the envelope. It read like this.
Dear LNHer,
I would like to welcome you to the League of Net.Heroes. I hope you
will find your stay with us educational and rewarding. We do require certain
services of you in return for the kitchenette and suite we have provided you
with. You will be expected to perform missions for the betterment of
humankind and the salvation of earth.
Your first important mission is Kitchen Patrol. You will cook for us.
Let me remind you that you will like cooking for us, and you will cook well.
Thankyou for your cooperation.
Ultimate Ninja
>>Kitchen Patrol? All I get to do is cook? I can do chores at home!<<
Tad's face took on a disappointed visage. He sighed. Slowly, the
disappointment turned to horror.
Tad bolted out the door, charging down the hallway. As he ran, he sent
a thought to Phil. >>Phil!!! Get the 12th squadron and meet me in front of
Ultimate Ninja's office, pronto!<<
>>What? What's going...<< Began Phil's reply, clouded by sleep.
>>They've assigned Jynx KP duty!<<
>>THEY'VE WHAT?!!?!<< Phil's thought was electrified by panic and the
kiwi leapt to raise his comrades. Tad continued to barrel headlong down the
corridor, knocking a big fuzzy spot and an LNHer he thought he recognized as
Time-Waster Lad from his path. He tripped over some orange cones near Super
Apathy Lad's room, but SAL must not have been home, because he scrambled to
his feet and ran off again.
Tad skidded around the corner just in time to see Jynx deposit Ultimate
Ninja's secretary on the desk. "Jynx! Chill out! It's OK!"
The young woman turned to face him. "They want me to COOK!"
"Yeah, but..."
Jynx looked like she was about to go into one of her feminist spiels
when the air duct above her opened and she was buried beneath a dozen fuzzy
green birds. >>Good timing, Phil.<< Kid Kiwi sent.
>>I try.<< Phil sent, disentangling himself from the group.
* *
* *
A couple hours of strained discussion later...
Jynx sat staring unhappily at a cereal box. "What the hell is this?!
There's no friggin' directions!"
Kid Kiwi glanced up from the stove. "I tell ya what, Jynx. You can go
out in the cafeteria and bring people their food. I'll cook. OK?"
"Hah! Good luck, kid. Stinkin' cereal doesn't have any directions."
Jynx grabbed a notepad and stalked out, filled with disgust at the makers of
Cheeriests.
* *
* *
Jynx strode out into the cafeteria. There were, unsurprisingly, a bunch
of heroes at the tables. "Alright, listen up! I'm gonna take orders from
anybody who hasn't ordered yet! You can have sardines, anchovies, raw
spinach, escargot, cauliflour, liver, spam, asparagus, sprouts, eggplant, and
prune juice. Whaddya want?"
* *
* *
"Okay," Kid Kiwi began to Phil and the 13th, perched on the spice
shelves over the stove. "Ultimate Ninja wanted... eew. Octopus." Selecting
a jar marked "Octopus", Kid Kiwi wrinkled up his nose and unscrewed it.
Something limp slopped out into a pan on the stove, and Kid Kiwi lit the
burner. He turned back to the list of orders as the octopus simmered gently.
"Cappuchino? Isn't that an Order of Monks? That's sick! I'll just use
monkfish instead." A moment later a slab of celibate seafood occupied the
burner next to the octopus. "Hmm... it's supposed to be a drink. No
problem..." With a plop, it was moved from the burner to the blender. The
blades whined
Phil casually leaned against a pepper grinder on his shelf. As Kid
Kiwi turned away, the pepper grinder fell silently and joined the fish in the
blender. With a sharp crack, the grinder was sheared to splinters, and
pepper and splinters mixed with fish brew. Coincidently, the mixture was
brown, with a light, pepper induced foam on the top. (Remarkably like real
cappuchino. I'm serious. Try this mixture at home... It really does look
like that. Here's the recipe)
1 lb. Monkfish fillet, boneless.
1 wooden pepper grinder (brown porcelin will do in a pinch)
3 cups pepper
Frappe until liquid, and serve over ice. Preferably not to someone who
matters.
Phil, startled, backpedaled into the curry powder. The container was
upended, and three or four tablespoons poured onto the Octopus, giving it
that healthy orange look we love so much. >>Oops<< was Phil's reaction.
>>What happened?<< Asked Tad, busy at the sink.
>>Nothing.<<
* *
* *
Tad glanced up, surrounded by food and smoke as Jynx walked back in.
She could hear kiwis coughing in somewhere in the room. "So what do they
want?" Tad asked.
"I guess they weren't very hungry." Jynx grinned. "Most everybody
left, but Ultimate Ninja just got here. Is the octopus and cappuchino
ready?"
"Sure, one minute. How's this look, Phil?"
>>Needs grubs<<
From out in the cafeteria, a voice called. "Waitress!"
Jynx stuck her head out the door and screamed "WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?!?!
THE TERM IS WAITRON, BUD!"
"Yeah, whatever, babe. I want a hamburger. You think yer pathetic
excuse for a half-lame, bird-loving, acne-growing, bewhiskered newbie can
manage that?" Innovative Offence Boy asked.
Jynx turned to Tad. "I'll be right back."
It's OK, I'm not bothered." Tad offered, but Jynx was already gone.
A few minutes and unpleasant sounds later, she returned. "You call
Mouse 'babe' and she get's offended. You call me 'babe' and yer a pretzel."
Tad peeked out into the cafeteria. Innovative Offence Boy was mounted on
the salad bar with an apple in his mouth, his wrists tied around his ankles.
"Ouch. Jeez, Jynx, lighten up. They're gonna kick you out." Jynx
looked away unhappily.
* *
* *
"So what's wrong with him, Doc Stomper?"
"Nothing, Kid Kiwi. He's meditating, trying to control his anger.
You're lucky he only ate a single bite of the octopus. As for the
cappuchino, I'm not sure. I sent it to the chem labs to find out what was in
it."
"Don't worry! I didn't put any monks in it! I swear! I wouldn't do
that! I just used a fish and I'm really sorry and I'll never do it again
and..."
"Monks?"
* *
* *
>>I don't think Ultimate Ninja is happy with us. Our next mission will
probably be something like, 'engage Satan in personal combat and report back
to me.'<<
>>We could take him.<<
>>You think so huh?<<
>>Sure. Who's Satan?<<
>>Uh-oh. Here comes Captain Cleanup. More plates? Nobody ate! Where
are they getting these plates? I'm starved. When we're done, let's go down
and see what they've got in the cafeteria.<<
>>Okay, but you take the first bite.<<
>>No, you!<<
>>No, you do it! I said so first!<<
>>You take it! That's an order!<<
>>Who died and made you general?<<
>>Nobody... yet!<<
>>Oh yeah? Ever seen _Mutiny on the Bounty?_<<
>>You've been living in the wilds of New Zealand your whole life! Where
did you see _Mutiny on the Bounty?<<
>>I get around!<<
>>Oh, sure....<<
And so the conversation trails off into...
THE END
Kid Kiwi, Jynx, and the kiwis are all Ian's.
***
Culinary Disasters Five
By Campbell March
Bladed Lad admired himself in mirror... he adjusted his jacket so it sat
just right, muddled with his hair a little, and smiled.
"Lookin' sharp," he told his reflection, "Let's hit the town."
As he stepped out into the corridor, he bumped into Fan.Boy, who was just
coming out of Guitar Man's room.
"Heya, big F, what's up?"
"Just feeding Guitar Man's goldfish," replied Fan.Boy. "Where're you off
to?"
"Just meeting some friends in town, going out on the booze tonight."
"Um. You are aware you're rostered to cook tonight?"
"I'm what?"
"Rostered. Y'know, remember how I cooked before?" Bladed Lad nodded,
trying to hide his shudder. "Well, it's your turn to do dinner tonight."
"Just great. Hey, you haven't seen Guitar Man about, have you? He's
been gone a while and he didn't say where he was off to." Fan.Boy looked
worried for a sec, and then smiled.
"Sure. He's hanging around with a rather, well, influential friend for
a while. I don't know where he's headed right now but I do know he played
a short gig at a really unique nightclub, and he was very well received."
"Oh well. I guess as long as he's happy. See ya."
Bladed Lad fumed off towards the kitchen.
---
"Hmmm..." muttered BL. "I can cook two things well." He peeked out
through the slightly-opened door at the gathering masses of apprehensive
LNH'ers. "...and toast won't cut it. It'll have to be omelettes."
---
"Hello, MegaChicken's House of Eggs."
"Hi, um, do you deliver?"
"Sure do."
"Could you have 60 eggs delivered to the LNH kitchen. Bill 'Ultimate
Ninja, c/o LNH HQ.'"
"Sure thing. I'll despatch the MegaEggTruck right away, expect them in
the next 20 minutes."
"Thanks."
---
"Porky Pete's Pig Emporium."
"Do you deliver?"
"Yup."
"5kg of Bacon to the LNH Kitchen, ASAP. Please bill the Ultimate Ninja."
"Kilowhat?"
"Kilograms. Um. 2.2 pounds to the kilo."
"Thanks."
---
"Cheesy Chris' Cheese Shop and Pet Supplies... 2kg of Grated cheese?
Certainly, sir. Delivered, no problem. Who shall I bill... OK, fine,
it'll be there soon."
---
"Honest Omar's Used Camel Emporium, Abdul speaking. May I interest you
in a low mileage camel? We have a nice two-humper just come in that was
used by a little old lady on Sundays to wage jihad, going cheap."
"Sorry, wrong number."
---
Bladed Lad worked fast. The eggs had arrived first and his recipe, which
was given to him by his mother, required the separation of the yolks and the
whites. He started doing this as fast as possible, until he had two pots
filled 1/4 full of each. He plugged in the eggbeater, and turned it on.
It whirred up to speed, and didn't stop speeding up. Bladed Lad jumped for
the power switch but it exploded before he would release it. The beaters,
spinning frantically, drilled through the kitchen wall. A short set of
screams came from the next room, but Bladed Lad decided it was wiser not to
investigate. He looked around for a replacement beater, but couldn't find
one ... so...
---
Out in the cafetaria, New-Look lass struggled with a beater that had
managed to wind almost her entire hair around it.
"Ow, don't pull that way, unroll it like... ow! That's my HAIR! Are
you trying to pull it all out, or just stretch it?"
"Yes," said Ambiguity Lass. "Sorry."
A whirring started up in the kitchen, then the sounds of someone mixing.
"Wait," said Cannon Fodder, "if the eggbeaters are in here, what's he
mixing with?" None of the heroes in the room ran to the kitchen to see.
In fact, the only response was a mumbled "Pernickity eggbeaters, mmmm, we
had real eggbeaters back in the good old days. None of this high-velocity
exploding hoo-hah" ... so he made his way carefully to the door... Inside,
Bladed Lad hummed as he fluffed the whites with his fists, blades whirling.
Cannon Fodder pulled his head back.
---
"Dice the bacon, of course," muttered Bladed Lad. "But it needs to go
in now, oh, I never get the timing right. Hmmm." He threw the package of
bacon in the air and punched it swiftly, showering bacon pieces around the
room.
---
In the cafetaria, the LNH'ers had gathered around the door, pushing for
a look, but Cannon Fodder had his back to the door and was holding it shut.
"Move on, there's nothing to see," he said. There was a splattering
noise from behind the door and several chunks of bacon flew out the holes
made by the eggbeater and settled on the floor. The crowd of heroes surged,
but he managed to hold them back.
---
Bladed lad opened the cheese. "Aw, no. I distinctly recall asking for
grated cheese. Oh, well." He hefted the cheese, and threw it in the
air...
---
Cheese pattered on the floor, burying the bacon bits. Time passed.
---
Bladed Lad extracted his creation from the oven. It was perfect. He
hefted it, and set the pan on the table. Steam wafted from the omelette
and the smell of just-cooked bacon wafted through the kitchen. He went to
rub his hands on his jeans, then realised that he was wearing his best pair.
(Somehow, through all the other mess, Bladed Lad's outfit has remained
immaculate) He hunted for a cloth to wipe his hands on, but none was
evident. He was just starting a cupboard-hunt for paper towels when the
door banged open and a piece of cloth started to sprint across the floor.
Bladed Lad frowned, and scooped it up as it skittered past his feet. He
wiped his hands on it, and suddenly it made a leap for his mouth.
"Mmmmphm Mpphm Mmmmmph," said Bladed Lad, and snatched it away, throwing
it back to the floor. It hit the ground running, and vanished from the
room. Bladed Lad shrugged, and turned his attention to the omelette. He
divided it up into decent serving sizes and put it on plates.
---
The door to the kitchen from the cafetaria banged open and Bladed Lad
entered, bearing two large plates piled with steaming omelette. The LNHers
quickly grabbed a portion each, but those knowledgable in the field of group
dynamics will note that despite each hero having a piece, no-one has actually
_eaten_ any of it yet. This is probably because Bladed Lad hasn't actually
got a piece.
"Aren't _you_ going to have some," said Figment Lad, just when everyone
was thinking 'No-one mention that BL hasn't got any.'
"Nope," replied Bladed Lad. "I'm allergic to dairy products."
He vanished in a cloud of ballistic omelette. Only one piece remained
unthrown.
"Ummm, this is good," said Fan.Boy, around a mouthful. "I'm a real fan
of this omelette."
---
Bladed Lad is copyright me, Sasquatch, March_C@kosmos.wcc.govt.nz
Fan.Boy used with permission.
I think the rest are public domain, 'pologies if they aren't :-)
***
Vague Admin type stuff.
Okay, the BTB storyline will finish next issue. Phew. So no more Culinary
Disaster stories okay? Except for Mistlock's. Unless you've written something
already.
Jaelle.
