"WHAT DO YOU _MEAN_ THE DUCK IS GONE?!" screamed the associate producer, who, so far in this story, has not yet been given a name; her only identification being that of her job description. Now, such a thing would normally imply that she was only a minor character and thus of no importance to the story. This of course was a obvious falsehood, and even bringing it up in certain circles would get you shot. But after appearing in every single part thus far, her role as a main character was fairly well established. She was just nameless. The assistant attempted to quantify the circumstances in terms that would hopefully be understandable. She was also nameless and going to remain so for at least the duration of this part. "It was the strangest thing," she opened in a manner that implied that things involving the rubber duck were usually perfectly normal. "I went in to the storage room to pick up Mr. Duck, so I could use him to taunt Jack and keep under our control, and when I looked in the box," The "box" being the pink, glittery chamber of torture and pain that once resembled a shoebox, "...I saw a hole ripped in the bottom. As I checked around the room, it looked as if everything else was in order. The only other odd thing was the window in the corner had been broken. From the window down to the ground, there was a line of bed sheets tied together." "You think Jack broke in and took back the duck?" "No, he couldn't have. The window is far to small for any _normal_-" The dreaded word had been spoken, and even over enunciated so the slower readers could keep up. Thunder clapped outside. Lightning bowed in gratitude. A pigeon flapped its wings, continuing on its never-ending journey for enlightenment and birdseed. "-person to be able to fit through." "What did Jack have to say about it?" "I haven't talked to him, yet. Isn't he going to host today's show?" "He's still claiming disability from tie-related trauma. I want you go ask him what he did with the duck. We need to _discourage_ this sort of behavior, if you catch my drift." "Yeah, I know _exactly_ what you mean. Heh heh heh..." "MWAHAHAHAHA..." This continued for several hours. * * * The dressing room door stood slightly ajar. The assistant pushed it open and peeked her head inside. "Jack? Hello?" Noticing the room was devoid of life, she stepped inside to investigate. Looking around, the room seemed fairly normal (Again, the dread word!), for Jack anyway. The velvet portrait of Elvis hung slanted by the door. Scattered across his desk were the Third Reich Nazi Action Warriors plastic figures (With Kung-Fu Oppressive Grip!), posed in various states of undress in lewd positions with a certain female plastic doll who shall remain nameless because it is EVIL! Various shredded scraps of paper displaying Bible passages littered the plaid shag carpet. On the make-up counter, assorted products that had all been tested on animals leaked out over the surface, creating a pukeish colored stain. A large hand-made banner hung above it all. Turning back to the door, the assistant paused... banner? Examining the banner closely, she discovered that is was covered in some sort of peculiar markings. It looked like some sort of code. Soon she realized that these were, in fact, letters, and that if she combined them together, words would form, she stepped back. Reading slowly and methodically, she deciphered the message written in plain English before her. "JACK HAS ESCAPED AND GONE INTO HIDING. HE IS NOT IN THE CLOSET. IF YOU WANT JACK TO RETURN FROM THE CLOSET-" The words "THE CLOSET" were crossed out heavily. "-HIS SECLUDED STRONGHOLD, YOU MUST RETURN TO HIM HIS BELOVED MR. DUCK. DO NOT LOOK IN THE CLOSET. HE IS NOT THERE. REALLY." Pondering this for about three seconds, she walking over and opened up the closet. Her eyes scanned the interrior, in a little trick she liked to call "looking". Jack cowered effeminently in the corner. She glared down at him. "Alright, what did Mr. Tie do to you this time?" "I... Uh... He... I... Uh..." he stammered while looking around for any possible route of escape. "Well?" "Ll... Look out behind you!" Jack pointed dramatically. "Do you really expect me to fall fo-?" was the last thing she said before being knocked unconscious. This seems like a good time to run the credits in hopes of showing the passage of time. ~!@#$%^&*()_+ What The F... iction? is unsure of why it is presenting... IMPRO DATING GAME Now without so much rat in it! Episode 13: Have Your Duck and Eat It Too! Created by the two lovely people who wrote the starter. ELRutt (elsteven@pacbell.net) is apparently claiming to be the one who wrote this part. CAUTION: Proceeding may cause severe tire damage and give a minus 1D6 to all defensive rolls. The rest of the credits roll by in triple time. +_)(*&^%$#@!~ Anne stared blankly at the camera, waiting for the little red light to blink on. Several tense minutes passed. The air was so thick, not even a wet noodle could've cut through it. The Ramen Ninjas would be powerless. This air could've armored tanks. Had this air been a contestant, and the question was asked, "If you could be any kind of rock, what kind would you be?" The air would answer without hesitation or even the slightest bit of wavering in its voice, "Diamond." After twenty minutes of idle gazing, a voice whispered from off stage. Anne jumped out of her daze and looked over at the other camera. The little red light was on, burning with all the intensity a small, under-powered LED could manage. Quickly, she went into her oration. "Good afternoon and welcome to the Impro Dating Game!" she exclaimed with all the mock-excitement she could muster. The audience stared at her with the all expression one might give someone singing a song about necrophilia. Man, I love that song. After a short pause that should've been filled with applause, she continued. "We have a great show for you today!" She gave the audience a nervous once over. A cricket chirped. The faint clang of a pin dropping could be heard in the distance. A mime mimed until he was hit by a truck. The earth span. Fish swam. Realizing the lack of response was causing her mind to wander, Anne introduced the clip of last weeks date before things could degrade further. "Here's a clip of last week's date. Heh." No sound at all came from the audience. Anne put her face in her hands and wept. She was so fired. * * * "So... uh... you kill magical girls, do you?" Frank asked, nervously. His mind wandered to a certain super-deformed girl, who, technically, could be considered a magical girl, if one was into making such generalizations. Leaning forward, he cautiously sipped from his Cherry Cola. "Yeah. I hate those preppy bitches. Everything about them, from their shiny aura, to their obnoxious talking mascots. It just makes me want to kick 'em in the teeth. So I do. Then I shoot them. Watching their waifish frames squirm as I pump their bulimic asses full of hot metal death is the only thing that gives me pleasure anymore." "I..." Frank began while looking around for any possible route of escape. Aika had effectively killed the conversation for the nth time that night. Slowly edging his way out of the booth, he was stopped by a loud, crashing noise, which wasn't a quiet, crashing noise, because that would be silly. Everyone in the restaurant turned and watched the giant green oozing ball of icky break through the wall, and ravage the nearest diner. Needless to say, what followed involved much screaming and running around with arms out-stretched and hair billowing in so many directions, that it would take a hundred hairdressers nearly twenty minutes to fix. Before the creature could finish eating the thirty-second patron it had happened upon, a voice called out. "In the name of bad Food Critic reviews and one-star restaurants and frizzy hair and bad dental plans and the daily massacre of the rainforest and babies born with larger than normal heads and fish that get trapping in this plastic soda ring things that come on cans and corporate expenditures exceeding- GURK!" The voice which belonged, oddly enough, to a magical girl (Because really, who else would give such a long and insipid speech?) was interrupted by the forty eight rounds of ammunition unloaded into her thin, pale frame. Blowing the smoke from her gun barrel and tilting her head just so, Aika posed in such a manner to make her look like a real bad-ass. The monster shrugged and continued devouring customers, which was very bad for business. Running out the back door as fast as he could, Frank cleaned the urine stain off his pants using the power of scrubbing bubbles. * * * Cheering outrageously, the audience reached a 4.8 on the riot scale. Smiling, Anne called out. "Wasn't that a great clip?" Silence. She looked around as all the audience sat down and resumed the extremely bored position. "Uh... would you like uh... We're going to take a short commercial break." It was so quiet in the studio that the silence itself seemed overwhelmingly loud. She wept openly as the screen cut to commercial. And she liked this job too... * * * Fast-paced Japanese rock music plays over cut shots of Rurouni Kenshin. Various shots of him trashing every villain in existence. The frames change very quickly in time with the music. He skillfully slashes, hacks, chops and stabs every possible object that wasn't a person, twice. All the music reaches a climax, Kenshin slammed his blade against a particularly big, mean and ugly looking guy. As the body falls in the background, Kenshin flips through the air towards the camera. The camera is angled looking up from ground level. He lands with his foot right in front of the camera. On his foot are a pair of shoes that are covered in all different sorts of straps, buckles, laces, zig-zagging patterns and a goldfish swimming around in the heel. The shot freezes on the close up of the shoe. VOICE OVER: The Rurouni Kenshoe: Because who's ass are you going to kick with a bunyon? A caption slams into the screen. "Rurouni Kenshoe: Who wants some?" VOICE OVER: Available at all stores that sell these sorts of things. * * * During the commercial break, a very interesting thing happened on the way to the Opera... Er, the following scene took place happened: Her head felt like it was being crushed slowly in a vice. Eyes fluttering open, the assistant attempted to regain a sense of her surroundings. Colors swirled together like alcohol in an everything-behind-the-bar cocktail with a twist of lemon. The whole room seemed to have a faint reddish hue. Leaning up slowly, pain crashed like three week old dot-com stock into her forehead. Her body dropped onto the soft object acting as her pillow. Reaching her hand up to rub the pulsating mound of torture that was her head, her hand brushed past what was passing for her pillow. It felt like pants. There were legs in these pants. Squinting her eyes shut, she hoped it would help her regain her orientation. She opened them once again and stared up at the visage staring back down at her. "JACK?!?!" She leapt up and ran to the other side of the room, completely oblivious to the pain raining down like so many cats and dogs on her cranium. "Wh... why was my head in your lap? What the hell happened? Where are my clothes?" Looking down for the first time, she noticed she was no longer wearing the power business suit she had on when she had first entered the dressing room. What she was wearing could only be described as a... black, shiny, leather, bondage, bikini that did nothing for her hips, but did accentuate her bust line nicely, but that was ENTIRELY BESIDE THE POINT. "Mr. Tie! He ran in and attacked you! I tried to warn you, but you were too busy being mean to me to listen! He's out of control! We must form a tie searching party immediately! Quick, give me Mr. Duck before he gets attacked too!" "Why," she asked again, "am I wearing this outfit, freak?" "I-- Uh... You were having trouble breathing after you were knocked out, so I, thinking quickly, and in your best interests, of course, changed you into a more comfortable outfit." "You do realize I'm going to have to kill you now." "But what about Mr. Tie?" The assistant approached Jack menacingly. Anger and bad will towards men gleamed in her eyes. Worst of all, she had a gigantic wedgie. "Hold on a minute!" The assistant paused, mid-mallet-swing. "Yeees?" "He's gone!" Jack pointed out. "You left the door open and he escaped!" "...and this affects me beating you senseless, how?" "If we don't go out and stop him, he may severely disrupt the show and then I won't be able to host the second half and the ratings will plummet and we'll all be shit-canned!" "Do you know what inanimate object means?" Before Jack could say anything blatantly Jack-ish, a loud scream was heard from the direction of the studio. The assistant ran out the door to investigate. Now was Jack's chance. The moment he'd been hoping for: his coupe de grace. The time was nigh. Zero hour. El finito. The horse shall be led to water. Three blind mice. The whole enchilada. He looked boldly at her departing figure and grinned like a jackass. "Nice ass." Oh, the pain he would have endured had she not been previously occupied. * * * "Going along with the whole theme thing, since our writers can't come up with a more convincing gimmick, all of our contestants..." A barely audible snicker was heard from the audience at the pitiful joke. It was actually just a sneeze, but after being subjected to a life with Jack, Anne heard just what she wanted to hear. Upon realizing someone had laughed, Anne decided to run with the winning material... way too far. "Actually, I bet they _could_ come up with a better gimmick, but they're just too lazy to care about how any of us feel." Anne felt like crying. "I mean... yeah, just look at um..." noticing that the crowd had immediately gone back to not caring, she decided that maybe improvised roasting would not be the best thing to win them over with. "So, our theme for this week is minor villains. All our contestants are villains. Not the main villains, mind you, but mediocre side-quest opposition that only mildly affect the plot." "Our first bachelor... is a man that needs some introduction. With his many great advances in the fields of fruit engineering, perversions of nature and just general perverseness, he left many of the members of the scientific field gouging their eyes out with their own fingernails after viewing the test results of some of his most infamous projects. Being grossly obese and possessing a rather ugly appearance, he tends to spend most of his time in his small, one-bedroom apartment, spying on the neighbor girl while cosplaying as various characters from a certain video game that comes in a variety of colors that shall remain named: Pokemon. Let us move our hands back and forth in a gesture that produces sound waves that, due to our cultural development, implies delight for... him!" The first Bachelor waddled out onto stage and spent nearly seven minutes trying to heave his girth onto the stool. No one in the audience seemed to notice. Anne continued on with the second introduction. "Disco, afros, dancing all night. These are things that our next bachelor knows very little about. He has been described by many as a skeleton in a robe... That's about all he does, really. Make noise showing your personal approval of his mass appeal and personal magnetism, it's Bachelor Number Two!" The second in a set of three bachelors (Collect 'em all!) walked out onto stage, looking a lot like... a skeleton in a robe. Much thumb twiddling and eyes wandering ensued in the audience. Anne talked more. "Our third bachelor comes from an post-apocalyptic world, where, despite being the future, everything is based around 90's pop-culture. He is the embodiment of bad uploaded into the very thing he used to create his evil empire. Clap a lot for Bachelor Number Three!" Joe Randomstagecrewmember walked out and set a laptop on the third stool. Now, I don't mean to say that the audience didn't respond but... they didn't. Choosing not to ponder her current lack of job security, Anne, instead, introduced the contestant. "Our lucky, lovely and ludicrous lady that will be selecting from our panel of three fine honeys..." Who writes this dialogue? "...is the leader of the next generation of anime-based warriors. Otaku Force is their name, helping those in need of help from bizarre transformations involving anime is their game! She's a Gemini and never knows what to except! From Project Chibification, it's Anna!" The audience barely clapped for the girl who walked out and not at all for Anne, because doing so would go against everything the author has tried to establish so far. * * * Anna (who will from here on out be referred to as "PC Anna", to prevent confusion) walked out on the set and took her perch upon the Stool of... Being a Stool. "I think that there must have been a clerical error." All the clerks in the audience gasped. All zero of them. "I'm not a villain. I'm more like an undecided third party. It's obvious Eugene the Superyoumageneral..." A low rumble followed by a loud crash filled the studio. Joe Randomstagehand looked up from the pile of sound and lighting equipment he had accidentally knocked over. He would have apologized if the author didn't feel like starting a new paragraph just for his one line of dialogue. "... is the _real_ villain of Project Chibification. Otaku Force is only there to help, and may very well be the key to curing Katie. This whole theme thing is absurd, and I for one am not going to participate in a fic where an author whose brazen incompetence-" The sound of typing became louder and more infuriated as her speech went on. "-and..." She had begun to notice the sound herself. "And I think he's doing a magnificent job writing this part and I for one would like to point how exceedingly proud I feel just to be a part of it. May I ask the questions now?" PC Anna asked, warily glancing at the camera. Anne, host of Impro Dating Game, Sister to Jack the self-proclaimed Master of Controversy, and also Psycho Hosebeast Extraordinaire (As she'll now be referred) handed PC Anna the stack of Technicolor cards, randomly sorted for greater confusion. Flipping through the stack like she knew what she was doing, PC Anna grabbed the first pink card she came across. "Bachelor Number One, if you could control the fate of the universe and were able to freely manipulate the time-space continuum, what sit-com would you put back on the air?" "Well, I've always been partial to the Brady Bunch. Little Cindy is so cute. I could just cover her in Mangoes in Syrup and eat her up." PC Anna leaned over and whispered to Anne, host of Impro Dating Game, Sister to Jack the self-proclaimed Master of Controversy, and also Psycho Hosebeast Extraordinaire, "What sort of freaks are you hiring?" "Jack picks 'em." PC Anna paused. "Oh." Flipping through the cards, she picked the next question. "Bachelor Number Two, if you could be close personal friends with any former President, living or dead, who would you pick and what ice cream flavor would you say best describes him?" "Well, I'm sort of biased on that question, being as I'm already close, personal friends with Richard Nixon. For ice cream flavor, I'd have to say cabbage." "Cabbage flavored ice cream?" PC Anna paled. "It's very high in fiber." PC Anna drew a quick doddle of a kitty-cat on her card, before moving on to the next question. The audience drooled in their sleep. "Bachelor Number Three-" "I AM BEING ADDRESSED." "Quite. Now, if you-" "ASK ME YOUR QUESTION. I AM READY TO INPUT." "Would you let me finish?" "PROCESSING... YES." "If your were-" "IS THIS A NEW LINE OF QUESTIONING YOU WISH TO INITIATE?" "_YES_!" "PROCEED, PUNY MORTAL." "_Thank_ you." She paused to consider the puny mortal remark. "If you were any-" "YOU ARE QUITE WELCOME, ABSTRACT COMPILATION OF MATTER." PC Anna growled. "If. You. Were. An-" "LOWER LIFE FORM, PLEASE TELL ME YOUR QUESTION." "You what? Nevermind. Bachelor Number O-" "VERY WELL." Iratedly, she asked the next question. "Bachelor Number One." She stopped and waited to be interrupted again. Nothing happened, so she continued. "When I go out on a date, I like a-" "DUDE, I THINK SHE'S TALKING TO YOU." She stared sinisterly at the divider screen. If she wasn't a normal girl, she would've torn through that screen and caused major pain to a certain third bachelor. "SHUT UP! Let. Me. Speak. You're not allowed to talk anymore, [EVER]!" "YES, MA'AM." PC Anna smirked victoriously. "Number One, When I go out on a date, I like a man to lavish me with gifts-" She stopped and looked at the rest of the question. Nervously, she looked over at Anne, host of Impro Dating Game, Sister to Jack the self-proclaimed Master of Controversy, and also Psycho Hosebeast Extraordinaire. "I... can't say that." "Need I remind you of the contract you signed?" Flames cracked behind Anne, host of Impro Dating Game, Sister to Jack the self-proclaimed Master of Controversy, and also Psycho Hosebeast Extraordinaire for added effect. Swallowing her pride, PC Anna proceeded. "lavish me with gifts, on our first date, what sort of... marital aid... device would you bring to me." All the color faded from her face. "That's easy, an electric grapefruit." "An... electric grapefruit... I'm not going to ask." "It's a fascinating device, really. Now what you do with it is-" "I _said_, I'm not going to [ASK]. Number Two, what makes you qualified to appear in this particular themed episode?" Number Two rubbed his boney chin. "Well, when they asked me, I tried to tell them that I wasn't just a minor villain. I'm really then _main_ villain in my respective series. My Lord obviously favors me more than that young, dark, minister-like upstart that acts like he's the cock of the walk. I mean, if you look at my track record compared to his, you'll see that I have far fewer defeats than he does. In fact, I have zero. Even though I don't have any triumphs yet, either. But I have done some key things to forward the plot." PC Anna seemed to really take an interest in what he was saying, despite the fact that the audience was currently trying to claws its own eyes out, out of sheer boredom. "How lovely," she commented, making a note on her card. "Number th- Nah, I'm not even going to bother. Number One, do you know any sort of trick or have a talent that you can describe for me?" Anne, host of Impro Dating Game, Sister to Jack the self-proclaimed Master of Controversy, and also Psycho Hosebeast Extraordinaire tapped PC Anna on the shoulder. "You left out part of that question." "I am NOT reading that." "Contract," Anne, host of Impro Dating Game, Sister to Jack the self-proclaimed Master of Controversy, and also Psycho Hosebeast Extraordinaire hinted while making the universal gesture for contracts. Whatever that is. "Fine, fine, fine. Do you know any sort of sexual trick or talent that you can describe-" She winced. "-in explicit detail for me?" "Well, I can bend back my..." * * * The following scene has been editted for content. * * * "...once the dishwasher finishes its cycle, the fourth gnome will put down the lemon pie and the seven gibbons would get the phone book off of the ceiling fan." PC Anna nodded, extremely disturbed and jotted down some notes on her note-jotting card in a typical contestant fashion. Flipping through the stack, she picked out another question. "Bachelor Number Two, if the Republic of China had enacted the fifth-" She was cut off abruptly as the actions in the next paragraph took precedence. Screaming incoherently, Anne, host of Impro Dating Game, Sister to Jack the self-proclaimed Master of Controversy, and also Psycho Hosebeast Extraordinaire ran in circles around the set, flailing her arms about wildly. PC Anna asked the obvious question, "Um... huh?" But Anne, host of Impro Dating Game, Sister to Jack the self-proclaimed Master of Controversy, and also Psycho Hosebeast Extraordinaire was too distracted to go through the trouble of answering such a complicated and well thought-out question. On the stool, right behind PC Anna, Mr. Tie perched, seeming to grin maniacally. Noticing the tie on the stool, PC Anna looked at it confusedly. But it was too late for her, the tie had already carried through with its attack in the cool and ruthlessly efficient manner that neckwear attacks in. Her limp body dropped to the floor, an enormous welt on her forehead. For the first time that afternoon, the audience came to life as everyone started screaming. As one, the crowd pushed for the exit doors. Not since Ozzy learned to yodle had an audience rushed out of a theartre so quickly. Mr. Tie watched them all leave with what looked like a grin of perverse pleasure gleaming on its countenance. Anne, host of Impro Dating Game, Sister to Jack the self-proclaimed Master of Controversy, and also Psycho Hosebeast Extraordinaire had thought her carrier was over, but this was just rediculous. "Damnit, Mr. Tie! I'm just trying to do my job, can't you respect that? Don't you care about my feelings? I know you don't like Jack, and who can blame you, but to you need to ruin my life as well?" A caption popped up at the bottom of the screen: FOR YOUR EMMY CONSIDERATION. "You don't need to try and solve your problems with violence. There are better things than that. Have you trying talking with Jack? Try to see things from his point of view. Then maybe, just maybe, you'll recognize each others differences and learn to respect them. That's what true friendship is about. Over coming what separates you from the other person and being able to accept those differences. Just look to the birds. Do you ever see eagles killing all of the badgers friends just because the badger can't fly? No. They respect each other. Wouldn't the world be a better place, if we all just respected each other?" As she finished up her dramatic monologue, she wiped a single tear from her eye. Mr. Tie took pause. Her speech was so moving. He almost couldn't contain himself. Parts of him appeared to water. There was no need to kill everyone. Life did have meaning. All he had to do was- "Look, it's the tie that scared everyone off!" one of the bachelors announced as all three came around the divider. "LET'S KICK HIS ASS!" "Eat pineapple, scum!" And the moment was lost. The Tie knew it could never find happiness. As the skeleton in the robe charged, Mr. Tie readied himself. The bony bachelor flew backwards slamming into the camera knocking it over. The screen became static. * * * We are experiencing technical difficulties... Please stand by. * * * Finally, the assistant reached the back stage door. "Man, these bottoms are chafing," she thought to herself. She'd change as soon as she assured herself that everything on the set was alright. Before she could operate the handle properly, the door flew open, catching her by surprise. Not only by surprise, but completely unarmed. The steel rectangle slammed into her heavily, knocking her back against the corridor wall. A man rushed out of the door, screaming obscenities in a high-pitched effemenite voice. Something must've gone wrong in make-up. Picking herself carefully off the floor, the assistant limped into the studio. She saw Mr. Tie resting momentarily on the contestant's stool and the three bachelors failing miserably at battling him. * * * The screen faded back in, still wavering in and out of focus. Mangled, oozing bits of fruit littered the floor like so much garbage on Times Square after New Years. A laptop sat propped up in one corner with what appeared to be index cards jammed in between the keys. On the side stage a woman's head peaked out. "Mr. Tie, you have gone too far this time," the assistant berated the fashion disaster. "Messing with Jack is one thing, but this..." She gesticulated madly at all the bits of fruit. "THIS... is definitely not that one thing. This is something _entirely_ different. Almost like the song that you can't get out of your head after you watch that movie with the creepy children and the guy in the big, purple felt suit." She fell to the floor clutching her ears as _that_ song started to play over and over in her head. The screen fuzzed out momentarily. * * * Jack hid in a closet for the second time that day. Keeping the door open a crack, he watched the make-up person rant his way down the hallway. Something in the studio had obviously gotten controversial... and he wasn't even there to be the cause of it. How evil... One of the hairdressers rushed down the hall after the make-up man. Damn, she had a nice ass. Jack was now faced with a dilemma. Should he go into the studio and show whatever it was inside the [TRUE] meaning of Controversy, or should he follow the hairdresser and watch her walk some more... The Controversial Path was never an easy one. Curiosity getting the better of him, that and the knowledge that he could always watch the videos from the cameras he had secretly installed in the women's restroom whenever he liked, Jack went into the studio. * * * The screen semi-resolved itself. The rotund, fat, and rather bulbous, pear-shaped bachelor stumbled past the camera clutching his face. "My eyes! My eyes! You bastard, you did nothing to my eyes..." He stopped when he noticed what the assistant was wearing. "Hey, baby. Wanna kiwi?" The assistant looked confusedly at the kiwi as the bachelor started prancing around the room in his underwear. Meanwhile, Mr. Tie prepared for his next move. Jack burst out onto the set with all the furiousity of a postal employee who had recently become disgruntled. "Mr. Tie! What do you think you're doing?!" Lying evilly on the stool, the tie looked as if it was glaring right into the very heart of Jack. Again he had interrupted the tie in his moment of triumph. "Don't give me that look! I want you to stop-" The screen fizzled momentarily. "Hey! What are you doing? Put down that knife! Nooo!" On the stool, next to the tie, sat a knife. Jack backed up slowly. "Now don't do anything crazy! You don't want anyone to get hurt, do you?" Jack asked, despite all the evidence to the contrary filling the studio. The entire group held their collective breaths waiting for the attack. It came, but from an unexpected source. A window on the back wall, above the audience, shattered. Shards of glass rained down on nothing important. A lone figure stood proudly in the opening. The sun shown brightly in the background, forming a majestic silhouette shot around the vaguely bird-like shape. "Mr. Duck!" Jack cried out gleefully. "You've come to save me! My Hero!" The duck had traded its pink, frilly smock for that of a long, flowing red cape and spandex undershorts. Looking up at the uninvited guest, Mr. Tie prepared for battle. Everyone except for Jack and Anne, host of Impro Dating Game, Sister to Jack the self-proclaimed Master of Controversy, and also Psycho Hosebeast Extraordinaire stared up confusedly at the the bathtoy. Battle music piped in from somewhere in the rafters. The song: Help! by The Beatles. The final showdown had begun. * * * Startled out her nap, the _only_ nap she'd had in a LONG time, the Associate Producer looked around her office, fairly peeved. She then realized what it was the woke her. "My crap-hitting-the-fan senses are tingling..." As she got up and walked out of the office towards the set, she thought to herself, "Jack. It must be Jack. It's _always_ Jack." * * * The battle was going farely well, Jack thought. Currently, Mr. Tie rested for a moment on the contestants stool and Mr. Duck stood proudly in the window sill. The picture faded slightly as a loud clanging and a wet smack was heard. Mr. Tie leaned heavily on the stool, as Mr. Duck gave a smirk from the window. Everyone watched in stunned silence as the battle raged on. The tie was weakening, they could all tell. Just a couple more strikes from Mr. Duck and it would all be over. The first bachelor fondled his mellons nervously. The second bachelor pondered getting skin implants. The third bachelor cussed up a blue streak as he couldn't work his alt key due to jamming. The assistant pulled on the leather bikini briefs that just would not stop creeping up. Jack watched this with much delight. Anne, host of Impro Dating Game, Sister to Jack the self-proclaimed Master of Controversy, and also Psycho Hosebeast Extraordinaire thought she was surrounded by a bunch of loonies. PC Anna drooled slightly as she was still unconscious on the floor. Just then, the AP burst out onto the set and surveyed all the damage to her set. The mess that was laid out before her, like so many flavors of dressings at a salad bar, was beyond words. A hundred wolverines, hyped up on Lifesavers and pie, then let loose on a bus full of catholic school girls would have been more neat and orderly. Indistinguishable fruits of varying sizes carpeted the floor like Stainmaster. And in the middle of it all, a tie sat on a stool. She looked over at Jack, who was hiding in the corner. The AP was speechless. This had gone above and beyond anything else Jack had ever tried to pull. No way was this ever going to be covered up. Someone was going to fry for this mess, and the best candidate for that someone was Jack. Regaining a minimal amount of composure, she approached Jack's hiding place. She looked down at him and asked the question that dare not be asked. "Jack, what the HELL did you do?" "I--" Jack looked up at the AP. "Look out! Mr. Tie is right behind you!" The look on the AP's face could have stopped a rhino from charging, even if it did have an American Express card since it didn't leave home without it. "Jack, you are coming with me to my office. We are going to have a little discussion about- what?" she stopped, noticing everyone was pointing and gasping at her. Confused, she looked over at her shoulder and noticed Mr. Tie hanging there. "Don't move!" Jack warned. "Mr. Duck! Save her!" "What is going on?" She pulled the tie off her shoulder and tossed it at Jack. "Don't put your dirty laundry on me." Jack screamed and began grappling with the tie. They rolled around the set together, neither gaining any ground. Thinking fast, Anne, host of Impro Dating Game, Sister to Jack the self-proclaimed Master of Controversy, and also Psycho Hosebeast Extraordinaire grabbed Mr. Duck and tossed the bath time buddy and the battling duo on the carpet. Soon, it was over. Mr. Tie was defeated. The duck stood heroically on his slain foes corpse, posing dramatically. "I have no idea what that was about, and I really don't want to know. You are going down for ruining my show, Jack. You and the duck are going to pay. You think you can just come in here and destroy my whole set and blame a silly piece of silk cloth? Oh no. You've messed with the wrong associate producer. I'm going to make sure you never work in this business again or my name isn't-" "Boss-lady!" Joe Randomtechie ran out onto the set clutching a long sheet of paper firmly, but gently in his grip. He stopped short as he noticed the insides of the studio. He was alergic to fruit, after all. "What it is it?" the assistant asked before the fuming AP could verbally assault him, too. Realizing that now was his chance, Jack grabbed Mr. Duck and edged his way towards the exit. Falling out of his half daze, the man looked up at the woman. "It's the ratings, sir-- ma'am, whatever. They are through the roof! We beat out every other channel _combined_! Yanking the statistics out of his hand, the AP read through the print out. "How is this even possible? We only broadcast to three states!" Her eyes changed into little dollar signs; a trickle of drool ran down her face. "Oh, I can see the corporate sponsorships pouring in! Jack, you are a genius. A fucked up nut job that shouldn't be allowed out in public, but still a genius all the same. You are now in creative control of the show." Stopping, Jack posed boldly, a ray of light shining down on him from above. His eyes welled up and begin to sparkle. "At last, the show is mine! Mr. Duck and I will show the world what _REAL_ entertainment is! Right, Mr- Hey!" Looking down at his now empty hand, his mood quickly dropped. "Sorry Jack," the assistant apologized, holding the duck in her Vice Grip of Death, "but you're a loose cannon, after all. We're going to be keeping Mr. Duck, just in case you try to go too far." Eyeing the mess around her, she shuddered at that thought. "But-" "No." "But I-" "No." "But, but what if-" "No." "What about-" "No, you don't get to touch my butt, either." "Damnit!" Just when it seemed like the story was over, it wasn't. A body on the floor began to stir. Everyone did the obligatory gasping and stepping back routine. PC Anna regained consciousness and looked around confused. "Did... did I win?" Anne, host of Impro Dating Game, Sister to Jack the self-proclaimed Master of Controversy, and also Psycho Hosebeast Extraordinaire facepalmed. "Oh yeah, the show! So which bachelor are you going to pick?" she asked gesturing at the three battered forms. PC Anna turned to look. "Hey, no peeking!" the assistant warned. Sighing, PC Anna rubbed her head. "Uh... Number Two, I guess." "That's great!" All who remained on the set started clapping. Anne, host of Impro Dating Game, Sister to Jack the self-proclaimed Master of Controversy, and also Psycho Hosebeast Extraordinaire turned to the camera. "Well, that's the end of the show... But before we go, let me introduce you to the two unlucky bachelors you didn't pick. Bachelor Number One hails from Girls With Guns, it's Mr. Sunshine!" She paused, as Mr. Sunshine waved weakly from a pile of the fleshy part of frut and what vaguely resembled vegetable salty. "Uh... hi," PC Anna breathed a sigh of relief. At least they can't get any worse. "Bachelor Number Three comes from FAQing Hostile, it's the Lord of Wares!" From the back of the set, a faint sputter of static was heard, flowed by a loud pop. PC Anna blinked. "The bachelor you did pick is from that wonderful piece of fiction, Castlevania 1970: Disco of Evil!" "That skeleton looking guy in the robe?" PC Anna asked warily. "o/~ That's Death! o/~" Anne, host of Impro Dating Game, Sister to Jack the self-proclaimed Master of Controversy, and also Psycho Hosebeast Extraordinaire half sang. Several moments of silence passed, the small group watched PC Anna expectantly. "Go ahead give him a big smoochy smooch..." Jack prodded. PC Anna gave Anne, host of Impro Dating Game, Sister to Jack the self-proclaimed Master of Controversy, and also Psycho Hosebeast Extraordinaire a "What are you, nuts?" look. Anne, host of Impro Dating Game, Sister to Jack the self-proclaimed Master of Controversy, and also Psycho Hosebeast Extraordinaire looked back at her with a "Almonds, specifically." look. Death ran across the set and scooped PC Anna in his arms. Cackling madly, he carried her off the set. "Show's over, folks see you next time." and with that, everyone did wave in a very Beverly Hillbillies like fashion. ~~~~~~~~~THE END!~~~~~~~~~ Author's Notes: What the hell is wrong with me? After rereading this, I realize I have some serious personal issues that need to be resolved. Oh well, hope you could control the urge to vomit long enough to enjoy this part. See you next time! Prereaders: Rags, Yonjuuni! Thanks guys! Second Edition Notes: Billions of thanks go to the admins for allowing me a chance to redo a rather sub par part. I hope this part sucks less. ^_^;; Also lots of thanks to Isawa Noshinto for waiting for me to rewrite. Second Prereaders: Jesse Ellman, Yonjuuni, and Lirazel. Sorry, Rags was at work.