Scene I: The setting is a mob scene, set virtually anywhere, but definitely nowhere. Nowhere you'd recognize, that is.
Pontificate: "Greetings," —
The Narrator: the Pontificate spake. His loyal masses gathered subdermally upon the head of Jarris, the Dark Sentience. Jendor Bendr welcomed the magic of his words, and yet questioned their existence. They were assumed to be cromulent, yet it doubted the veracity of the manifold claims of its brethren. Thereupon, the Pontificate was coming to a close, as was his speech. Whose magic was that?
They dwelled upon the skull of Jarris, the Dark Sentience, because that was his magic. Jendor's magic was to bend, and sometimes completely alter someone's gender. The Pontificate, of course, had the gift of leadership. But who could rise against his magical leadership? And if this was their ability, why could they also close him? And could the Ombudsman take care of this?
BUD!: "Foolish chimichanga, do not question the might of the yelling OMNIPOTENT OMBUDSMAN! Fear not, I shalt handle thine complaints with alacrity."
Extra: "Alacrity, what's that?"
The Narrator: asked the Extra.
BUD!: "Silence, beer portal! Eh, I meant to say, 'mere mortal.'"
The Narrator: Suddenly the extra turned into a barroom door; a beer portal.
A voice rang out from the crowd,
I: "Why are we listening to Spanish Techno?"
The Narrator: I asked.
Extra: "No, he asked."
The Narrator: the extra said. The Pontificate mumbled gibberish to the tune of Macarena, the National hymn of Jarris, the Dark Sentience's skull.
Ponti: mumbles gibberish to the tune of Macarena "Hum gagga hey gagga ho Macarena. Something something something something something Cosa Buena. Hum gagga hey gagga ho Macarena."
Crowd: "Hey Macarena!"
The Narrator: And with that, it was all over. The pain, the suffering, all the hardships of the centuries. With that one word…
Extra: "Hey, aren't you The Narrator?"
The Narrator: The extra asked. The Narrator replied with a simple nod. nods.
Extra: "Then why are you getting so dramatic?"
The Narrator: The extra asked. "Because I hate sitting around watching everyone else act." The Narrator replied. Suddenly, the Extra was shot full of bullet holes by a drive-by gang of space dogs on LSD and PCP.
The Narrator: The Extra screamed. Then the story continued.
With the end of the Pontificate's speech, the crowd began to disperse. Jendor Bendr looked around, questioning the presence of his fellows. Jendor then noticed the beer portal, standing there, mocking it, daring it to enter it.
Jendor: "This beer portal, standing there, seems to be mocking me, daring me to enter it."
The Narrator: And with that, Jendor resolved its mind and entered the bar.
Jendor: "Jiminy Jillickers!"
The Narrator: It said.
Jendor: "A bar! And me just twenty-one! Wow! This is the first time I've ever seen a bung in real life."
The Narrator: Jendor walked over to the cork, and picked it up while The Narrator took a seat at the bar. A swarthy, Australian man walked toward Jendor as The Narrator ordered a Jagermeister.
Swarthy: "Eh, mate. What's your game?"
Narrator: He asked as The Narrator picked up his drink. Jendor calmly answered, The Narrator begins chugging.
Swarthy: "Horseshoes? Caw, mate, what're you goin' on about? Just gimme me bung back."
Jendor: "I'm sorry. I didn't know it was yours. May I assume you believe in material possession?"
Swarthy: "I seen the exorcist a biddly of times."
Jendor: "A biddly?"
Swarthy: "Yeah, it means a little, or a few. I'm Australian. We makes up words all the time, mate. Like 'billabong' or 'wallabee.' It's crummers of fun. Say, you want something? Barkeep! Two pints a bitta!"
The Narrator: awkward pause, as everyone waits tacitly, staring at The Narrator as he chugs his tasty beverage. The Barkeep is especially anxious awaiting his entry. The Narrator is irritated that they would even think to ask him to hasten his drinking. After The Narrator finished chugging his Jagermeister, the barkeep emerged from the shadows behind the bar and said,
Barkeep: "Two pints of bitter, coming up."
Swarthy: "So did you say you were into horseshoes?"
The Narrator: "Burrrrppp," The Narrator belched.
Jendor: "That's whoreshoes."
The Narrator: Jendor explained, while The Narrator wiped his mouth with the Extra's sleeve. Then Jendor stepped off the stool, removed a very pointy high-heeled shoe, and threw it at the dartboard located clear across the bar. The Narrator appears to erase something on a piece of paper, and rewrites something. Unfortunately, the current Extra walked in front of the dartboard that very instant. pushes the Extra off his stool towards the dartboard.
The Narrator: irate at the lack of enthusiasm The Extra screamed out in pain.
Swarthy: "Bullseye! Hollops to you mate! That was a shazzer of shot. I'd hate to be on your treeper side on a gollop of a day."
The Narrator: Suddenly, Swarthy turned into himself.
Swarthy: "Chiggers, mate. You's a bum skizzer. What's your pollyglop feeber all about?"
Jendor: "Yes, unsure you's crippers jeeboo."
Swarthy: "Willipers, mate. I think you've got the hummy of this mellinger."
The Narrator: They continued babbling. Bored, The Narrator turned his attention back to his Jagermeisters. Then the extra exploded. In all the chaos, no one noticed as I wandered into the bar. begins chugging again
I: entering "I see this place, and, to me, it is unfamiliar. I find this place to be nauseating, and yet, it holds a strange attraction for me. I cannot help but love what I despise." He walks over to the bar, sits on one of the seats inbetween Jendor and Swarthy, the Australian fellow. Turns to Jendor "What is your function in this place?"
The Narrator: Jendor, who had been paying no attention whatsoever to anything but its hand, answered,
Jendor: paying no attention, having just come to a realization "I believe my hand has no soul."
The Narrator: Noticing that people who sat at tables were being attended to, I walked over to an empty one. A waiter promptly attended to him.
Waiter: "Here is you menu, sir."
The Narrator: the Waiter said as he handed I a laminated sheet of paper. I replied, unsurely,
I: "Thank you."
The Narrator: With nothing better to do, I began to read the words he found on the paper. His face wrinkled up in incomprehension.
I: "Beaurogoves? Slithey tobes? Mimsy wabe? Outgrabed mome raths?"
Waiter: "Are you ready to order, sir?"
The Narrator: Just then, music began to play. The M.C. announced the band as Algorr, the evil robot bent on annihilating mank-ind.
M.C.: shouting over the music "Hey, everybody! It's time for some music from Algorr, the evil robot designed and built with the sole purpose of destroying mank-ind!"
The Narrator: Algorr was working as a musician until he had enough money to implement mass destruction. He had only recently escaped from his creator, the nefarious Klin-tonnnnnn.
Swarthy decided this would be a good time to make his move. He grabbed Jendor's hand and began dancing with it to the funky Algorrhythms. Jendor danced its way over to The Narrator, and tapped him on the shoulder. But The Narrator wasn't interested in dancing. Jendor tapped again, harder, but The Narrator escalating angerrrrrrrr (See McCracken, Phil, M.D., Ph.D., Psychology, Argyle U.) WASN'T INTERESTED in dancing. Jendor tapped a third time; practically punching The Narrator's shoulder, but The Narrator STILL WASN'T INTERESTED IN DANCING. Just then, Swarthy grabbed The Narrator's shoulder, and spun him around on his barstool.
Then the scene ended.
RANDOMNITY IX TOTUM!