On the Move

The Cheneymonster lay down in his control coffin, and his minions closed the lid. 

“Get him to the Evilcopter,” commanded Steve Hitler, Sergeant-Major in the Cheneymonster Legion of Vileness.

“His latest body is a buff 29 year-old.  Why does he insist on travelling in this stupid coffin?” asked Fred, a junior minion.

Steve Hitler winced.

A voice so cold it would make Voldemort sound like the Smucker’s Jam voiceover guy rang forth in amplified menace: “Because inside here, I can see and hear everything, everywhere!” 

A small door opened on the control coffin. Cheneymonster’s hand came out and smacked Fred on the ass.  The hand withdrew, and another door opened, revealing a laser cannon, which blasted the hapless minion into non-being.

“Now, let’s all go perpetrate some evil.” 

In a different part of the Southwest, a man in a foil covered cardboard mask suddenly stopped his peyote-fueled firedance.  He knelt, and a beam of purple light shown from nearby Mesa de los Quesos Imperecederos.  In the purple haze, Orson Welles, somellier and spokesman for the immortals, spoke solemnly, dressed in a King Lear costume:

“Arise, mortal man.
A tainted maiden is trapped
In a desert ward.

Her only solace
Is the guy from the Austin
Powers bathroom Scene.

You know who I mean:
“You show that turd who’s boss!”
“Please, courtesy flush.”

The Masked Man nodded. “I get it. Tom Arnold.  Why are you speaking in Haikus?”

“You must arise, now!
Hie thee to Rancho Mirage!
Help GingerVision!”

“And your insolence
Shall not be soon forgotten!
You shall pay a price!

Until you save the maiden there,
You’ll speak in rhyming couplets, dickweed.”

“But that doesn’t rhyme!
And why all the time?”
Oh horse shit.
He meant it.”

“Take your new creation and go! And here.” Orson Welles tossed the masked man an Elvis Pez Dispenser.  “Do NOT enjoy a Pez unless things are truly dire! GO!”

The purple light receded, and the Masked Man tucked the Elvis Pez dispenser into his loincloth pocket, and ran across the sands toward his newest creation.

40,000 feet above, Laetetia slowed the VisionJet to subsonic speed.  “We will be landing in 40 minutes, mistresses.”

In the FunCabin, a game of strip poker was in full force.

“Aw, crap.  I suppose we should get our game faces on.  Tabitha? Bring the cooler of Red Bulls.  Dmitri?” Kelly Vision laughed softly.  “You’ll probably want to change.” Dmitri, truly one of the worst poker players ever, blushed, and turned to walk his sculpted naked self back to the dressing room.  Two hands, pruned from the hot tub, reached out and smacked him on the ass.

Far below, a very special coffin was rolled into a very special helicopter, which headed west in a cloud of sand. 

In another part of the desert, the Masked Man took off his cardboard and foil mask, swallowed three packs of Twinkies and a Beef Jerky, and chugged three 16oz cans of Monster Energy Beverage.

“Ginger Sister and Kelly Vision
Need my help! They face derision!
They face the darkest evil, Cheney!
I always laughed at Mr Haney.”

The Monsters kicked in.  The Masked Man pulled on a Guy Fawkes mask, and walked into his garage/lab.  He climbed into a most unusual hovering vehicle, powered by plutonium and Spam jelly, and constructed entirely from Legos.  He flicked a switch, and the Lego Cruiser Kzinti Mark II sailed silently across the sand, heading for the evil part of California.

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