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ROAR, THUNDERBOX, ROAR



By M. Lawrence Halpin

(635 words)





"Crikey humdingers, Jervisplow! Thunderguts's got himself brainfeebed!"

"What ho, my nervous Robin?"

"I said Thunder's been hornswaggled into swallowing some consciousness-altering substance, Jervisplow! Whatever can we do to incommode the affronting?"

Jervisplow snapped his cape over his shoulder and the zephyrs, cued, saluted the cloth courageously. A grin more a leer at the folly of the Forces of Evil's latest extension made light alteration on a jaw the size and shape of a brick.

"Criminey hooters, Jervisplow! I know by that grin you got a notion stewing in that 115 Octane noggin a' yers!"

Indeed Jervisplow did.

The hero had sure enough an IQ measured at 115- superior to your average back-alley criminal. He had lost his Gaul Blatter and the French no longer feared him, but Jervisplow could yet fly at 420 miles an hour toward any cardinal point of the compass. An hour later he and Banana Gnome were four hundred and twenty miles north. Half an hour after that they were 210 miles further north. They turned east and began to fly in that direction.

Soon Thunderguts hove into view. The stomach beneath his pea coat rumbled ominously. Jervisplow dropped Banana Gnome safely to the sidewalk and waited until the sidekick had laced on his magnetogloves and rubbed the lucky mousse into his hair. Then Jervisplow socked Thunderguts as hard as he could in his solar plexus! "Ka-zah!" screamed Jervisplow. The lawbreaking intoxicant tumbled over backward.

Banana Gnome unfolded his Crime Scene Unit and found the cassette recorder, progenitor of the cassettes replayed ceaselessly for his sidekick's hooting delight.

>Click<

THUNDERGUTS: Groooan.

JERVISPLOW: I believe this slacker's learned a lesson today! Banana Gnome! Give me any two numbers less than twenty!

B.G.: Eighteen and four!

JERVISPLOW: Eighteen and four, eh? Eighteen times four, sir, is seventy-two! Yes, seventy two. Ha! That's a second lesson thrown in gratis! Eighteen times four is seventy-two.

B.G. (to THUNDERGUTS): Bayjeebers, lout, the cracker there's got his gear upstairs clocked at one-fifteen, it's cranked! He'd a spell any word you sigh too, in a batting of a cooked eyelid.

JERVISPLOW: Now don't you forget young man, firstly, that drugs are bad news- malicious BIOS-instinct reprogrammers! Unnatural Beelzebub's constipating infringers!- and second, eighteen times four produces two and seventy.

THUNDERGUTS: ~~~~Gassp!!!!~~~~~~

B.G. G-A-S-P!!!!

JERVISPLOW: (laughs) No, no, Banana Gnome! Didn't you hear astutely? This man said 'Gassp' not 'Gasp.' G-A-S-S-P.

B.G. (excited): Hookety bowelpressure jowlsnatcher! Hookety jowlimpactor!!

JERVISPLOW: Listen well: the demographic majority are slack bastards who shove both hands into their trousers allowed any opportunity, so nicotine-beguiled they scoop wet butts from sidewalks to chew, curse their regular, inequitable, doo-spewing ways! Trick them you must, to defend Orderliness!

B.G.: Ambidextrous your radio cranium, star!!

JERVISPLOW: Come ho, I believe I detect a cat burglar's skull crunching! Let's add a second body to that manslaughterous homeowner's carpet! Up, up, and aware!

>Click<

* * *

"Man-- hey, man, wake up!!!!!!"

"Seventy-two----"

"Whaddid he say?"

"He said '72.'"

"Yo man you alright?"

"Groooan. Jervisplow and this mousse-headed fella---- elusive movements-----"

McManus and Arnold the Dealer looked at each other, then said in unison, "Cut him off, he's had enough."

* * *

"Ha ha ha ha," delighted Jervisplow as discerned afore his cochlea's long-distance cross channel sonar compass. Banana Gnome, that chubby key-ring-swinging bollocks, was the other one laughing too. "Clever so clever!"

Jervisplow the crippled visionary, the hindered titan, applied habitually his 115 degrees of aptitude; he slipped seamlessly back into his Secret Identity, a disguise so ingenious to astound the world or melt the sun. A disguise so handsome no one would locate him, and if even accomplishing that, were the hero to proclaim his inauspicious eminence, none would invest belief. Merely vacating the fruitless stall he reemerged Ray Jervis, Building Fifty-Two, resident, Virginia's Eastern State Hospital.



 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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