I, Koshi Rikudo, hereby allow the transformation of Excel Saga into a 
fanfic. Any and all changes to the plot or perversions of my 
characters, I full-heartedly certify. I will not scream incoherently 
in any sort of huff when all of the story I have worked so hard to 
create is torn to shreds, stomped on repeatedly and then put out for 
the dog to piddle on by the authors who may or may not assist in the 
writing of this fic.

*STAMP!*

KOSHI RIKUDO 

*/ \*

Great Will of The Grand Universe and Indie Madnesse proudly 
present...

           ************
         ****************
      **********************
   ******   EXCEL SAGA   ******
*****  BINARY TREE VERSION  *****
   ******  VERSION ONE ********
     ***********************
         ****************
           ************
           |          |
           |  Begun   |
           |   By     |
           |  ELRutt, |
           | Ranma X, |
           |   Todd   |
           |  Harper  |
           |   And    |
           |    W4    |
           |          |
           |          |
           |          |
           / / /  \ \ \
          / / /    \ \ \

This Experiment
By
ELRutt, Ranma X, Todd Harper and W4

Nifty ASCII Art
By
Mervyn The Wonder Slug and S.D. Ryukage

If you print a hard copy of this, use 8.5"
By
11" paper. 

 / / /    EXPERIMENT 1:     \ \ \
/ / / SCHRÖDINGER'S HANGNAIL \ \ \

*/ \*

LEGAL DISCLAIMER:

All characters from the anime/manga "Excel Saga" are copyright Young 
King Hours and J.C. Staff. In addition, this story will never 
generate so much as a penny in any way, shape or form. Down, lawyers! 
Bad lawyers! No subpoena!

*/ \*

Two co-eds walked into their dorm room. One of them, although rather 
sickly pale, did carry with her a deep elegant beauty and a grace 
that flowed from her very being. Everything from her deep grey eyes 
to her long, wavy deep blue hair screamed elegance. She was quite a 
contrast from the short stubby-looking blond girl next to her. This 
one was obviously the unattractive friend the first only kept around 
to make herself look better in comparison. Her icy green eyes and 
maniacal grin gave one more of a feeling of nausea than any sort of 
attraction. With her disproportionate head and flat-

"Okay, can we move on with the scene already?!" the ugly one screamed 
at the fourth wall. Angrily, she slumped into the chair in front of 
her computer. "I don't wanna type this paper toniiiiight..." she 
whined.

"Now, Excel," her blue-haired friend reprimanded. "You know that if 
you don't write that paper comparing and contrasting Ernest Hemingway 
and a pond full of ducks, the professor will say-"

The blue-haired girl then proceeded to cough violently and fall to 
her knees.

Excel casually glanced over. "Aaaaaaw, don't die right now, Hyatt," 
she pleaded. "I was hoping you could stay up and help me. Besides, 
you just died this afternoon! You should be good for at least another 
three hours."

Hyatt wiped some blood from her bottom lip and gave Excel a weak, 
apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, *cough* Ex- *cough* -cel. I think I 
need to *cough* lie down and *hack* die for a while. *wheeze* Good 
luck with your paper."

Excel pouted as her monitor flared to life. She gave Hyatt a weak 
wave as Hyatt crawled slowly and painfully to her bed. Excel moved 
the mouse to the Word Warrior icon and double-clicked it.

"WORD WARRIOR!" a loud voice blared from the computer speakers. Excel 
looked in the lower-right-hand corner and saw what looked like a 
humanoid stapler flexing its muscles as it spoke. "We don't just help 
you create documents. We help you KICK ASS! NOW DROP AND GIVE ME 
FIFTY KEYSTROKES!"

Excel grumbled, "I don't have time for this," and moved the mouse 
cursor over to the humanoid stapler.

The humanoid stapler slapped the cursor away, causing the mouse to 
jerk violently in a way that sent Excel flying into the wall behind 
her. She slowly slid back to the floor, head under heels, gritting 
her teeth. Her green eyes glared at the computer with unmasked fury.

"WHAT WAS THAT FOR?" Excel shouted.

The humanoid stapler on the monitor pointed at Excel and bellowed, 
"You miserable human! You think that you can handle Word Warrior? YOU 
THINK THAT YOU CAN HANDLE WORD WARRIOR? YOU *CAN'T* *HANDLE* WORD 
WARRIOR!"

Excel stood up and pointed at the monitor. "Even if it costs me my 
life," she swore solemnly. "I WILL REBOOT YOU!"

Excel lunged at the hard drive, her pointer finger reaching for the 
reset button. She paid no attention to the printer until it shot 
rapid-fire 8"-by-11" pieces of paper at her. She staggered back, her 
arms covered in paper cuts. As she backed up, the phone line wrapped 
around her legs, causing her to fall to the floor on her back.

"NOOOOO!" Excel shouted as she tried to thrash free, not noticing the
scissors, the pocket knife, the katana and the legendary blade
Excalibur within her arms' reach; instead, she grabbed a carrot. Had
she been fighting a rabbit, this might've been useful. "Someone help
mmmmph!"

She looked at her mouth to see that the computer mouse was in it. She 
promptly spit it out. "EW!" she yelled as she stuck her tongue out 
and gagged.

"YUCK!" Word Warrior shouted. "What was I THINKING? Now I have 
COOTIES!" The humanoid stapler on the monitor gazed menacingly at 
Excel.

Then the monitor went completely blue.

Excel gasped and shuddered in terror. "No..." she whispered. "Not... 
not the..."

"YES!" Word Warrior shouted. "It's the BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH! It's 
time I finished this!"

The last thing Excel saw was every component of the computer leaping 
into the air and diving straight for her.

The humanoid stapler reappeared on the computer monitor which was now 
perched on Excel's lifeless chest. "You, my dear, suffered a Fatal 
Excecution Error," he calmly stated.

He then flexed his muscles.

*/ \*

Authors' Notes: Well, that turned out to be the shortest 
improvisational fanfiction ever. I was kinda hoping-

Don't you mean we?

Hey, we can't all be writing these notes at the same time!

This is a collaborative fic! We should talk like the Borg every 
chance we get!

That is the stupidest idea I have ever heard!

What about Harold's theory about the llama?

... That is the second stupidest idea I have ever heard!

Mommy and Daddy are fighting! WAAAHHH!!

[The authors are hit over the head with a giant mallet. The wielder 
of the mallet is a six-foot-tall ferret wearing a red eye-mask, a 
yellow jump-suit and a green cape. On his chest is a shield emblem 
with the letters "FWF" over it.]

Fourth Wall Ferret note: It is I, Fourth Wall Ferret! And I have come 
to punish those who put themselves in fanfiction! Those silly fools I 
just knocked out thought that the story was over just because the 
main character happened to die! HAH! And HAH again! Rank amatuers, 
all of them!

Well, my job here is done! Let the story commence! But it better 
commence without you, or you will have to face the wrath of... 
[dramatic pause] FOURTH WALL FERRET! [DRAMATIC SQUEAK]

*/ \*

Excel felt like she was lying down, but she could feel her body 
floating. It was like someone hit the pause button on the gravity and 
then left the room for a bit to get a coke. She felt so open, so 
free. It was a feeling that-

"Excel..."

-was suddenly interrupted by a rather impolite voice.

"Excel..." a gentle, feminine voice called out to her again.

Excel opened her eyes. She was surrounded by stars and a dark blue 
sky. All this free floating was starting to make her queasy, and not 
having anything solid around wasn't helping matters any.

"Excel..." the voice repeated.

Excel tried to rub her eyes, but she found that she couldn't move. 
"Huh?" she muttered.

"Excel, it's not good to die in your fanfiction. You must live. You 
must tell your story. Without you, this story will have no title 
character. Any readers who skip the first part will not know what the 
name means. You must go back. You must not die until the series 
finale or, at least, sweeps week."

Excel muttered, "...but I didn't mean to."

"It is the Great Will of The Grand Universe that you tell your tale, 
Excel."

Excel opened her eyes completely. She couldn't feel her body, but she 
could tell that it was still pinned by the computer that killed her. 
Hovering above her was a circular portal with a 4-foot diameter. The 
portal seemed to lead to a blue galaxy filled with stars. Two 
feminine arms, whose hands sported red fingernails, extended from the 
sides of the portal.

"Ah! Iz-chan!" Excel chirped merrily.

A sweatdrop formed on Iz-chan's back. It would eventually fall into 
the portal and drown the inhabitants of the planet Gurgle, but that 
is an entirely different fanfic altogether.

*/ \*

In the secret lair of the secret organization, Across, its leader, 
Il Palazzo, held a meeting with Excel. He was every bit the future 
ruler of the planet. His long white bishounen hair draped bishounenly 
over his bishounen cloak and tight fitting, metalic blue, bishounen 
body armor. On his bishounen nose was perched a pair of very 
bishounen glasses with little bishounen orange, bishounen lens. If he 
were to stand bishounenly, fully upright he would reach a bishounenly 
impressive bishounen height of bishounen seven bishounenly bishounen 
feet. Bishounenly, his bishounen crown bishounenly accented his 
bishounenness by bringing bishounen contrast to his soft bishounen 
bishounen skin bishounen.

~o/~ Bishounen, bishounen, bishounen, bishounen! Manly bishounen! 
Wonderful bishounen! o/~

Now, let's never say the word bishounen again.

Iz-chan scurried out, trying not to be seen.

"Thanks Iz-chan!" Excel thanked. She was currently in her official 
fanservice Across outfit which included many illustrious articles of 
clothing, such as... A Green Jacket! Black Shorts! Gloves With The 
Fingers Tips Cut Off! Shoes! Other Things!

She turned her full attention to her grand and also very mighty 
leader. "Hail Across!" she shouted, extending her left arm upward in 
a salute. "Hail Il Palazzo!"

Il Palazzo nodded slightly. "Very well," he commented. "Now to 
address the issue at-"

"Lord Il Palazzo!" Excel shouted merrily, her eyes becoming shimmery 
as she blushed and gave Il Palazzo a wide smile. "It is such an honor 
to work under someone as cool, smart and handsome as you! For you, I 
would endure any torture! Fight any opponent! Pick any card!"

Il Palazzo stared at her as she hopped around the chamber like a long-
tailed cat on LSD in a room without any rocking chairs. His hand
reached into the back of his cloak.

"Lord Il Palazzo!" Excel continued, prancing merrily and almost 
singing. "For you, I would play 'The Minute Waltz' in 20 seconds! For 
you, I would drink the English Channel! I would even let you have the 
last chocolate in the candy box! LORD IL PALAZZO, I LOVE YOU!"

Excel leapt towards Il Palazzo, her arms wide open. Il Palazzo 
withdrew from his cloak an assault rifle and commenced filling the 
hyper-active youth with massive amounts of hot metal death.

*/ \*

Excel stood before Il Palazzo.

"As you know," Il Palazzo began as Iz-chan frantically scurried away
from the lair. "Our attempts to conquer City F in Province F of Japan
have all met with failure."

Excel sniffled and began to cry. "I'm sorry, Lord Il Palazzo!" she 
bawled. "I have failed you! I don't deserve to be in Across! But it's 
not my fault! They fought dirty! The cannon wasn't loaded right! It 
was raining! My foot was sore! OSCAR WILDE MADE ME DO IT! DAMN HIM!"

Excel fell to her knees and cried hysterically. A rope cord descended 
in front of Il Palazzo. His hand started reaching for it.

Excel stopped bouncing and whining for a moment. "What's the rope 
for?"

Looking up, Il Palazzo answered, "Nothing." And with that, it was 
sucked back up into the ceiling. Pulling a remote control from his 
cloak of infinite coolness, he pressed the big red button on it. A 
garage door was heard opening in the distance. "..." he commented as 
he stared menacingly at the remote. Behind him, a giant monitor 
flickered to life. "That's better." He placed the remote back into 
his cloak.

"All is not lost," Il Palazzo announced. "Three days from now, we 
will have the chance to make our move and strike a decisive blow for 
Across."

Excel looked up at Il Palazzo. "You mean... you'll give me another 
chance?"

Il Palazzo nodded.

"HOORAAAAAAAAAAY!" Excel squealed, pulling out a pair of pom-poms. 
"Lord Il Palazzo is giving me another chance! And I will take that 
chance! And I will win! And we'll rule the city! And then we'll rule 
the world! Il Palazzo will be king of the world! ALL HAIL KING IL 
PALAZZO!" she chanted as she danced around the room in a pitiful
display of acrobatics.

Il Palazzo said, "Three days from now-"

"IL PALAZZO IS DA' BOMB!" Excel hollered, now standing at a rap 
table, scratching a record with the needle of a record player. "All 
you Across homies in the house, let me hear you say, 'HOODY 
HOOOOOOOOOOOOO!'"

Just as all the roaches in the walls were about to call their
response, Il Palazzo pressed a button on his throne. This prompted a
giant robot arm to grab Excel by her shirt collar and drag her towards
Il Palazzo.

"Are you finished?" he asked dryly. The roaches all skittered away,
going back to doing their roachy things.

Excel bowed, embarassed. "Yes, Lord Il Palazzo," she replied.

"Very well. Then allow me to explain this important mission," Il 
Palazzo explained. "Three days from now, a major entertainment event 
will take place in City F. It will be held by the Mixup Amalgam of 
Destructive Competitors Obligated to Wrestle Federation Omni Omega."

Excel looked up from her kneeling position. "You mean-?" she gasped.

Il Palazzo nodded. "That's right," he answered. "m.a.d.c.o.w. FOO 
will be in City F. They will hold their prime pay-per-view, 
'm.a.d.c.o.w. Hoe-Down' there."

Excel scratched her head. "Funny, I thought it stood for the Massive
Array of Distasteful Contractually Obligated Wrestlers Fighting Only
Ostriches..."

The monitor showed a picture of a muscular man dressed in a pink 
cowboy hat, a black vest, and blue hakama.

"This," Il Palazzo explained, ignoring Excel's stupidity as had
become customary, "is m.a.d.c.o.w. FOO's star attraction, 'The Karate
Bastard.' He is a tobacco-spitting, beer-guzzling, foul-fighting
street thug. Yet the crowds fawn upon him and cheer his every move.
There is no room in Across's world for such vulgar displays and for
such shameful people."

Il Palazzo stared into space, his face showing extreme anger. Excel 
turned around to see what Il Palazzo was looking at, but she found 
nothing and turned back to Il Palazzo.

"The Karate Bastard will not leave City F alive," he swore.

Excel looked confused. "Why?" she asked. "Does he have a terminal 
disease?"

Il Palazzo turned to Excel. "No. You will kill him for the greater 
glory of Across."

Excel shifted to salute Il Palazzo, her mouth turned into a feral 
grin. "I shall not fail you, Lord Il Palazzo! The Karate Bastard is 
as good as dead." She pulled out an enormous axe and grinding stone
and sharpened it's edge, methodically.

"Don't be reckless!" Il Palazzo warned. "His signature move, the 
Damn-You-Ken, has killed and injured hundreds of opponents. You must 
be on guard. And be warned that those dogs of the Safety Assurance 
Agency Personel will be there as well. Make sure you are disguised 
well."

Excel looked up from the grinder and nodded. All that was left in her
hand was a tiny sliver of wood from what was the axe's handle. "I have
the perfect disguise," she responded. She ran off in a flash. Seconds
later, she returned, smiling before Il Palazzo.

"...that... is your disguise?" Il Palazzo asked.

Excel nodded. "You didn't recognize me. Did you?" she asked with a 
smile.

"Excel..." Il Palazzo sighed as he placed the fingertips of his left 
hand on his forehead. "...putting on a banana suit does not 
constitute a workable disguise."

Excel pouted, "It doesn't?"

Il Palazzo shook his head. "No matter, though. You have three days to 
work out the details and carry out your assignment. Do not return 
here until you have completed it."

Excel saluted Il Palazzo again. "You can count on me, Lord Il 
Palazzo!" she announced as she turned around, took a step forward, 
slipped on a plastic doll of herself in the banana suit and fell on 
her back, breaking her spine and killing her instantly.

Il Palazzo fought the urge to shake his head in frustration as he sat 
back down on his throne.

He decided the only thing worth doing now was watching some TV. He
opened up the secret panel on the right side of his throne and pressed
the big yellow button. After watching his daily soap opera, he came
upon a commercial. A large, rather muscular man appeared on the
screen.

"Are you tired of looking like a bishounen weakling?!"

"Hmm..." Il Pallazzo thought to himself, "I have been worried about 
my build recently."

"Do you want to bulk up and be a real man?! Then Get Ultra Bulk-Up 
9000! It'll pack oin the muscle and make you the stud of the 
prefecture!"

This, oddly enough, intrigued Il Pallazo.

"You just need Ultra Bulk-Up 9000! Follow your dreams... Dosu-koi! Say
it!"

"Dosu-koi," Il Pallazzo said in a mild voice.

"Louder! DOSU-KOI!!!"

"DOOOOOOSSSSU-KOI!!!!!" Il Pallazzo yelled as the seed for an awful 
idea was planted.

*/ \*

Pedro sat alone in an office he'd never before sat alone in, ever. 
His curly black hair and dark Carribean tan had nothing to do with 
the set up of the office setting. On the wall were all sorts of 
diplomas and certificates that made the offices owner seem real 
official-like. The tall fern standing in the corner gave the room a 
slight outdoorsy feel while the pentagram in the middle of the floor 
drilled in the point that this was a lawyer's office.

A flushing sound was heard from the door behind the large oaken desk 
dominating the room. The door opened and out walked a large man in a 
yellow business suit and dark sunglasses on his face, despite the 
fact that he was indoors and the lighting was poor. He had shoulder 
length curly blond hair and a mustache so straight and perfectly, one 
would think it wasn't real... but that sort of talk is just 
ridiculous. 

"Sorry to make you wait, Mr. Pedro. I had Mexican for lunch, and that 
stuff always tears me up inside. Here. I'll close the door." He shut 
the bathroom door, and the stench level in the room noticably dropped. 
The man crossed the room and sat in his high-backed, imperialistic 
leather chair. "Now what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

Pedro promptly turned on the waterworks. "My... my... my... my... 
my... my..."

"Yes, yes," the man behind the desk said. "Move onto the next word, 
please."

"My... my cute kid and sexy wife have been taken by another man!"

"You mean they were kidnapped?"

"No. They're with him willingly."

"So then, what do you expect me to do about it?"

"They... they belong to me! I am supposed to be with them, not Gomez! 
Can't you help me Mr. 
As-Yet-Unnamed-Lawyer-Character-Who-Most-Likely-Has-A-Sub-Plot-Of-His-Own?"

"I can't force them to be with you. I'm sorry."

"NOOOOOO!!!" Pedro ran screaming from the office.

The man in the yellow suit stood up and looked out the window. 
"Soon... Soon I will have my revenge! Bwah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha 
ha ha ha..." He carried on like that for twenty minutes.

*/ \*

Hyatt walked alone down a hallway of her dormitory. As she approached 
the vending machine, she was approached by a young man with shoulder 
length black hair in casual clothes.

"Ayasugi-san! I didn't know you went to F.U.!" he said, stopping and 
putting one hand behind his head.

"Oh... hi Watanabe... *cough* I was just getting a snack..." She fell 
foreward into his arms. Or, what should have been his arms if he had 
any coordination or sense of timing. Instead, she fell face first 
onto the floor.

"Ayasugi-san! Are you okay?" he exclaimed as he bent over to examine her 
more closely. Wiping the trickle of blood away from his nose, he 
wiped a similar trickle from her mouth. He scooped her up into his 
arms and headed towards the Nurse's Office, a local coffee shop.

*/ \*

Excel sat in her room. She had just been given a mission by her 
beloved Il Pallazzo. But sadly, that didn't pay the bills or get her 
food to eat. Her last job as a research subject failed when she was 
involved in a catfight with lab rabbit LR-4598. "I'm so so Hungry! 
It's so so so bad that I can't EAT!!!" 

It was then that she heard a scratching.

Menchi the dog, having overcome some of the problems associated with 
a lack of opposobale thumbs, unlocked the window and was attempting 
to open it when Excel came and grabbed Menchi. The poor animal looked
more like a cat with a squirrel's tale than any sort of dog-like
creature. Its soft yellow fur looked pitifully pale since its
captivity had prevented it from seeking the natural sustenance Mother
Nature proved for all her critters through carefully placed holes in
the ozone layer. Holes that many top industrialists were blocking up
with their evil smog belching clock towers.

"Menchi! My cute dog. Well, It's that time now," she said as the look 
that Menchi had dreaded came over her eyes. Her fear was qualified by 
the sudden appearence of a steak knife and fork in Excel's hands. Her
deep, round eyes swelled to nearly three times their normal size.

Both Excel and Menchi were distracted by a shout of, "Ooooooooooh! 
Woe is me! Boo hoo!"

Excel stuck her head out the window, still holding the fork and 
knife. Menchi ran towards the front door and desperately attempted to 
claw through it.

"Who's there?" Excel asked as she looked around. She then saw a 
familiar form sitting on the curb, crying.

"What am I going to do?" Pedro wailed to himself.

Excel's eyes began to shimmer. "Poor Pedro," she sighed.

Then, her stomach growled.

Excel's body seized up and became paper-thin. A gust of wind caused 
her to float out of the apartment, spiral around in midair and land 
on Pedro's head.

Pedro grabbed Excel's arm and blew his nose in it.

"EWWWW! Gross, Pedro!" Excel shouted. At that moment, Excel's body 
re-inflated, pinning Pedro.

With a strained voice, Pedro greeted Excel. "Oh, Excel. I'm sorry; I 
didn't see you there."

"It's okay!" Excel dismissed with a wave of her hand. She then rolled 
off of Pedro and washed her arms off using a nearby garden hose. "Why 
are you crying?"

Pedro sighed. "It's... it's..." he began.

Pedro and Excel looked across the street. Two elderly women were 
casually talking while strolling along the sidewalk. Suddenly, the 
sky went black, and house-sized versions of Pedro's wife and son 
appeared, startling the elderly women and causing them to flee to a 
nearby altar where they both kneeled and chanted, "GOD SAVE US!"

In the flashback-background-recall-story-vision-thing, a tall,
handsome man, with a short, well maintained afro, held in his arms an
incredibly sexy-looking wife of some kind. She had long light brown
hair the flow down from her head in gorgeous spiral tresses. Her soft
pouting lips and loving, peaceful brown eyes seemed to shine out
through the darkness of mid-afternoon. On her delicate body, she wore
an attractive blue sundress. It hung perfectly around her heavenly
shaped body. Her pert br--

Jumping up, Excel pulled out her six-shooter that she had for some
reason that will soon be forgotten as the plot continues and fired a
couple of shots of camera. "I thought I told you to cut that out!"

A faint voice was heard from out of shot. "No, you didn't..."

The man in the vision, who was obviously Gomez because I said so,
turned towards Excel and looked down at her. "He's right, you know."

Angrily, she sat back down.

Oh, and there was a kid there too. He looked vaguely kiddish. His
name was Sanjora because characters need names; otherwise things get
a bit confusing. The beauty queen he clung to was none other than
Pedro's Ex-Sexy Wife.

Scratch that.

Sexy Ex-Wife.  She's still sexy.

Unless she isn't.  In which case she's Pedro's Ex-Sexy Ex-Wife.

And if Pedro is dead or undead, then she's Ex-Pedro's Ex-Sexy Ex-Wife.

And if Pedro is the dead or undead son of a man whose last name started
with an X, then she's Ex-Pedro X.'s Ex-Sexy Ex-Wife.

Where were we?

Oh. Yeah. The flashback thingie.

The giant version of Gomez walked towards the giant version of Sanjora
and Pedro's wife. He crushed two houses and five trees as he walked
towards them.

NOTE: These were stunt trees. No actually trees were harmed during the
writing of this fic. Anywhere. However, several acres had to be torn
down for the printing and binding, but that was the publishers fault.
Really. Sue them.

"Hello, family!" Gomez greeted them.

Sanjora smiled and hugged Gomez. "Hi, Papa!" he shouted.

"Hello, dear," Pedro's wife purred as she walked towards Gomez and 
gave him a kiss.

Gomez blushed. "How's my newest little boy doing?" he reached down and
rubbed the utterly sexy and completely flat stomach that was placed
perfectly under her two enormous kno--

Excel jumped up again, for the second time. "Now I KNOW I told you to
cut that out! This is a PG fic!"

The voice drifted in from out of shot. "You know, you never actually
said that..."

Gomez looked down at Excel. "He has you again."

Growling, she resumed her seat and continued watching the show.

Gomez pulled out a brown bag. "I got something special to go with dinner
tonight," he said.

"Hooray for Papa!" Sanjora cheered.

Gomez pulled out a handful of roasted chicken wings. He explained, "A 
friend of mine told me that-"

"CHICKEN!" Excel screamed as she darted towards the giant chicken 
wings. "CHICKENCHICKENCHICKENCHICKENGIMMEGIMMEGIMME!"

Excel leapt, mouth-first, into a drumstick and began to nibble. 
Gomez, Sanjora and Pedro's wife watched, eyes wide with fear, as 
Excel gnawed at the giant drumstick.

"IT'S A MOUSE!" Sanjora shrieked as he threw a drumstick away, 
causing it and Excel to land on the street.

Pedro's wife shrieked as it grabbed a broom that was as long as a 
miniature radio tower. "EEK! KILL IT!" she wailed as she swung the 
broom wildly at Excel, tearing up the street. As a result, three
different species of asphalt went extinct.

Excel was still eating the drumstick when the broom finally connected.
After it was lifted, she wobbled around, visibly disoriented. She then
pointed defiantly at Pedro's wife. "HAH! It takes more than that to-"

*HOOOOONK!*

Excel turned to her left to see a steamroller headed right towards 
her. "I've got to run a-"

The steamroller flattened her and the giant drumstick. The images of 
Sanjora, Pedro's wife and Gomez faded, and the sky returned to 
normal.

*/ \*

Excel and Pedro walked along a busy city street as Iz-chan winked at
Pedro alluringly and quickly darted into a sushi bar to avoid
suspicion.

"So let me get this straight," Excel said. "While you're here trying 
to earn enough money for your family to live here, they willingly 
left you for another man?"

Pedro nodded as his tears flowed liberally.

"Pedro..." Excel began. "You can't give up yet!"

Pedro turned to Excel. "Excel..." he gasped.

"That's right! You can't give up yet!" Excel shouted. She leapt onto 
the nearest platform, which happened to be the head of a businessman 
in a red suit, and pointed at Pedro. "All is not lost! You have to 
keep going! You have to fight! You have to jump! You have to live! 
LIVE, DAMN IT, PEDRO! LIVE!"

Pedro looked at Excel in shock. "Excel..." he gasped.

Meanwhile, a crowd began to form around Excel, still perfectly 
balanced upon the face of the red-suited businessman.

"Listen, Pedro!" Excel shouted. "When life hands you lemons, you make 
cars with bad gas mileage and bad fanfiction involving poorly-written 
sex scenes!"

"Hey!" the voice called from out of shot.

Ignoring it and the pleas of the business man, she continued. "When
life knocks you down, you knock it off! And when things are looking
their worst, you march right to the proctologist and demand your free
eye exam!"

The crowd "ooh"-ed.

"Watch! Learn! Listen! You can make a difference! Shine with the 
power that rests underneath your solar plexis! Be your own beacon! 
THE WORLD IS..."

The crowd waited as Excel took a dramatic pause.

"...LUNGS AND PEAS!" Excel concluded.

Everyone, including the red-suited businessman, broke into a raucous 
ovation. Pedro smiled through his tears as he applauded. "You're 
right! You're absolutely right, Excel! I musn't give up! I must 
fight!"

Excel nodded wildly.

"...but who do I fight?" Pedro asked with confusion.

Excel teetered slightly. The red-suited businessman shrugged his 
shoulders. The rest of the crowd fell forwards or sideways on their 
faces.

"Mmmm hmmm phmmm," the red-suited businessman said. "Mmmph hmmph hmmm 
hmmph ^_^-mmmmh, mmmph pfhmmpfh pfhmm mmph?"

Excel looked down and answered, "Yes, but I don't think three kittens
can carry that much sauerkraut." She hopped off of the red-suited
businessman's face and walked towards Pedro. The red-suited
businessman wiped his face, re-adjusted his glasses and walked off.

"...that's a good question," Excel admitted. "Who can you fight?"

A harsh voice shouted, "DO YOU THINK YOU CAN TAKE ME?"

Excel and Pedro turned towards the direction of the voice. They saw a 
row of televisions on display at the window of a small appliance 
store. On each television was the arrogant, sneering face of a bald 
man wearing a pink cowboy hat, a black vest and blue hakama.

"Karate Bastard," Excel snarled. Pedro looked at Excel in concern 
before he focused on the televisions.

"Greetings, all you trash and vermin of City F!" Karate Bastard said. 
"In less than three days, I'm coming over to your Omakedome. I'm 
going to shine it up nice and shiny. I'm then going to turn it 
sideways. And then I'm going to KICK EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU IN THE 
NOSE!"

Excel continued to growl. Pedro wondered out loud, "What does he have 
against the Omakedome?"

All of the televised images of Karate Bastard turned to Pedro. 
Startled, Pedro took a step backwards.

"Son," Karate Bastard replied. "Let me tell you somethin'."

Several pairs of arms emerged from the televisions and hoisted both 
Pedro and Excel up in the air.

Karate Bastard explained, "I am the biggest, baddest, meanest son of 
a bitch that has ever stomped all over m.a.d.c.o.w. FOO. I do 
whatever I want, whenever I want and as many times as I want. I don't 
need any damn reason to do anything. In fact... do you know what I'm 
going to do for no reason at all?"

"...let us go?" Pedro gasped.

Karate Bastard shook his head and laughed. "What I'm going to do," he 
explained. "Is this. Come 'm.a.d.c.o.w. Hoe-Down,' I'm going to drag 
your sorry ass into the ring and kick it like a football. And then 
I'll kick your girlfriend's ass. And then I'm going to lock all of 
the doors and kick the ass of EVERYBODY in there!"

Pedro and Excel gasped. "Even yourself?" Pedro asked, astonished.

Karate Bastard gave Pedro a hateful glare. "ESPECIALLY MY OWN DAMN 
SELF!" he yelled with a snarl. "You see, when I was a little kid, I 
killed my dad. And I swore that I would not stop fighting until I 
kicked my ass. And I'm not going to let anyone... ANYONE! ...get in 
my way!"

The arms that held Pedro and Excel threw them into the street and
faded back into the television. A frightened announcer shouted, "You
heard it here first! For our main event, Karate Bastard will face Some
Guy Off The Street and His Freaky-Looking Girlfriend in a Hardcore
Handicap Match! Don't miss it!"

All of the televisions then turned off.

Excel stood up and helped Pedro get to his feet. "That's our answer," 
she mentioned. "To get your wife and son back, we will fight the 
Karate Bastard!"

"But I-" Pedro began.

"NO BUTS, PEDRO!" Excel shouted. "We'll get Hyatt in our corner, and 
then we'll destroy that Karate Bastard! And when we're done, you can 
use the prize money to bring your family here!"

Pedro looked, teary-eyed, at Excel. "You'd... you'd fight for me?"

Excel adopted a fighting stance. "Let me at him! I'll give him the 
one-two crunch!"

"Punch," Pedro corrected.

Excel nodded. "That, too! LET'S DO IT, PEDRO! HYAAAH!" Excel swung 
her right fist at Pedro's chest.

"HYAAAH!" Pedro shouted as he swung his left fist at Excel's chest. 
Their fists intercepted. A split-second later, their other fists 
connected.

"HYAAAAH!" they bellowed triumphantly.

*HONK*

Excel and Pedro looked around to find that they were in the middle of 
a busy intersection. They panickedly bobbed and weaved to avoid the 
ongoing cars.

"STOP!" a traffic cop shouted, causing everything except Excel, Pedro 
and the traffic cop to turn gray and stop. Excel and Pedro blinked in 
confusion.

"Move along, citizens," the traffic cop ordered, jerking his thumb 
behind him. Excel and Pedro nodded, darting off in the direction 
which the traffic cop indicated.

The world regained its color and time began to flow normally. 
Unfortunately, every object in motion at the moment of the time stop 
immediately turned towards the direction of the traffic cop.

That poor, now-two-dimensional traffic cop.

*/ \*

Watanabe pushed a shopping cart around the local Stop n' Get Ripped
Off A Lot Drugstore in town. Hyatt's limp body was draped over the
cart like so many crappy Christmas decorations above the hearth. Blood
trickled down her lip in a rather graphic display of being-deadness.

He browsed the aisles, searching for the object that would set
everything right again. He knew that if he brought her back from the
dead, she would profess to him her undying love and give herself to
him, unconditionally, every night, and possibly the occasional nooner.

He looked through the endless aisles of bottles, browsing the labels
as he went. "Cure for the common cold... Cure for the uncommon cold...
Cure for a rather rare strain of cold from Africa... Cure for Regis
Philbin... Words that rhyme with duck that no school child should be
without... The lost city of Atlantis... Jimmy Hoffa... Jimmy Hoffa's
less known, but equally lost brother Mike... A workable taxform..."

Just as he was beginning to lose hope, he found what he was looking
for: A bottle of Anti-Death C.Q. Looking at the back of the bottle for
its directions, he read, "For imediate relief of the pains and aches
commonly associated with being dead.

"Directions: Take one pill every two point three milliseconds until
eyes start to redden. Sacrafice a chicken and place the blood around
the area of the ache. 

"Side effects: May cause any and/or all of the following at least
twice a day: Uncontrollable urge to listen to smooth jazz,
rigor mortis, sore bum, gas pains, instant death, sudden death, quick
death, immediate death, abrupt death, death and chips, headache.

"Active ingredient: Processed lint. Inactive ingredients: Unprocessed
lint, Communism.

"Not to be taken by the undead. Avoid sticking large pointed objects
into your ocular sockets. Offer not valid in any states with the
letter 'P' in it or France." As he finished reading all the small
words on the bottle that he could easily understand, he opened the
bottle and poured its contents into Hyatt's mouth.

After administering the treatment, he pushed the cart towards the
door. Suddenly, over the loud speaker came the opportunity he had been
waiting for all his life. "Pointless quests now on sale on aisle
seven, pointless quests now on aisle seven." Knowing this was too good
to pass up, he rushed over to the recommended aisle, leaving Hyatt
alone.

Her cart slowly started rolling towards the exit. It stopped right
before the door. The sensor registed the cart as a hostile target and
quickly opened. The cart continued rolling out the store and into the
parking lot.

*/ \*

A dark and shadowy figure crept silently across the roof of the
Omakedome. His, er... I mean "its" identity was unknown as was...
"its" intended quest. The not-particularly-well-lit frame slinked
slowly across the roof, like a puppy on, no wait not a puppy, a...
um... slug? Yeah, a slug. He-- "IT"! Heh heh, "it" slinked like a
slug. As "it" made "its" way towards the skylight, inch by inch, step
by step, day by day, toe to toe, blow by blow, etc. by etc.,
approaching "its" intended goal, nothing important happened to
interrupt the story.

"It" peered over the edge of the skylight, looking down into the room
below. The room, unfortunately, was the mens' showers. The figure
recoiled back, looking very much like he was about to be sick,
even though he could be seen at all. With an invisible look of
determination, the figure crept silently to the next skylight.

"Its" goal was in sight, being only five feet away, and just as "its"
hand reached ever so slowly and dramatically towards the edge of the
second skylight, "its" fingertips almost brushing against the wood
frame, the figure obviously ignoring the fact that all "it" needed do
was take half a step forward, and it would be at the skylight.

Surprisingly, no really, you weren't expecting it at all, I'm sure,
something happened. And it was a surprise.

Harold the Janitor, whose name and life story really isn't important
to the story, a man who wore an outfit typical of those employed in
janitorial labor, burst out onto the scene like he was an important
part of the plot.

"Halt! Who goes there, I say in a dramatic voice to convey the
seriousness of the situation!" Harold said in a dramatic voice to convey
the seriousness of the situation. Shining his janitorial maglight this
way and that in a rather self important manner, he scanned the rooftop.

The dark figure (not Harold) froze. Was he caught? Would this be the end
of his illustrious carreer doing Top Secret Sneaky Stuff? His head
swirled with images from the past. In the background, the sky changed to
show the thoughts circling around his head.

... Wait. Did I say "he"? I meant "it". Seriously, it's not really a
he... well not yet anyway. Er... NO! Augh, I've already said too much.

Anywho, the images went a little something (pause) like this. (Note
Louis Armstrong singing 'What a Wonderful World' in the background.)

The dark figure walking into a dark office and having a dark discussion
with a dark, but not as dark as the figure him-- her-- ITself, man. They
shake hands and the man passes the figure and dark envelope. Later, the
figure examines the envelope's contents in a brightly lit cafe, while
still managing to remain dark and mysterious. Out of the dark envelope,
whose color might have been manilla had it not been so excrimentily
dark, the figure withdrew a picture. Upon closer examination, h-- IT
noticed that there were images in the photograph. How ironic. Don't you
think? The photo was of a sunny garden with flowers the colors of all
the rainbow. Bunnies danced and sang while children ran around and did
stupid children things. In the foreground stood a man of approximate
height and width who also, for some reason, was dark and mysterious. The
man was circled in red felt pen with the words "KILL HIM" written off to
the left. The only distinguishing feature one could make out about the
man, aside from his rather effeminate pose, was that of a rather pecular
ha--

"No! You didn't catch me yet, copper!" Harold said aloud to himself in a
deeper, husky voice, oblivous to all the colorful revelry. "Oh, save me,
Harold, you rugged and handsome warrior of justice!" he called again in
a squeaky high pitched voice.

The dark figure knew at once that he wasn't found out... yet.
</foreshadowing> But he also knew something else: He had had quite
enough of this silly banter. Quietly, he crept behind the janitor.

"Have no fear, Princess Buttercheeks! Harold shall save you in a heroic
manly sort of manner, then I shall take you back to my place for--
GURK!" Harold dropped to the ground after having been clubbed in the
head by the figure's weiner. Putting his hot dog back into the
packaging, the figure walk over to the skylight and snapped the lock
off. Carefully, he raised the glass up and slipped down inside.

...

*THUD*

"OW! Damn high ceiling! Should have brought some rope..."

*/ \*

"PEDRO!! NOOOOOO!!!!! PEDROOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Excel screamed into
the megaphone she was currently holding.

"No what? I wasn't doing anything." Pedro replied, a bit confused
looking.

Excel looked down and scratched the back of her head. "Sorry. I was just
trying to add some dramatic tention to an unimportant filler scene."

Pedro eyed Excel questioningly. "Filler... scene?"

"Puuchuu?" A passing fuzzy little ball of cute in a diaper asked as it
passed the two on the sidewalk and entered the grocery store they were
having dialogue in front of. Going out the other door was a shopping
cart with a dead body inside it.

"Never mind about the various components that make up a story!" Excel
exclaimed as she struck a dramatic pose and waved her arms about in an
equally dramatic fashion. "Good fiction isn't what this story is about!
We are here to do battle and conquer the world in the name of--" Excel
eyed Pedro for a moment. "I mean, uh... um... oh... What were we trying
to do?"

"Defeat Karate Bastard for some poorly-explained reason?"

"Yes! Of course! We will defeat Karate Bastard for some poorly-explained
reason, for we are... the PROTAGONISTS!" Various Kanji symbols appeared
below Excel which translated into "PROTAGONIST!" "And as such we will
right the wrong doings of bad people and slap paint onto the faces of
evil! We overturn every rock until we find the lucky charms! Let not
our anger be our ally, but a thingy we use to club our enemies into
little brown patches of a squishy liquid! They may take our lives, but
they'll never take our underwear as long as we're wearing pants over
the top of them! Let shuffle the deck of justice and deal the hand of
victory! Our lives mean nothing if not..."

*/ \*

In the secret underground lair of Across, Il Palazzo felt an
uncontrollable urge to pull his special cord... ew.

But, alas, he could not, being as he was currently bulking up the Ultra
Bulk-Up 9000 way.

*/ \*

"... Onward, Pedro, to shove the bananas of defiance into the ears of
nasty things!" Excel finished up her rant and posed dramatically in the
middle of the parking lot.

Pedro was moved beyond belief. He would have rushed forward and embraced
Excel, in a purely plutonic way, of course, had she not have been just
run over by the shopping cart with the dead body in it (Remember that?).
Instead, he rushed forward and picked up Excel and shook her body.

"EXCEL!!! NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!"

"Puuchuu," the cute fuzzy thing in a diaper consolled as it walked out
of the grocery store with a shopping cart full of Huggies and celery.

*/ \*

Drifting... floating... puppy dogs... breakfast pastries...

Excel looked out into the blackness of space as she floated weightlessly
through the afterlife. Her body felt like a liquid as it flowed along
the astral currents. Inside, she felt a profound sense of peace. After
staying her for a few moments a thought occurred to her. She didn't need
violence or slapstick comedy to solve her problems. Those were only
illusions. No, the true meaning of existence was--

*THUNK*

Her train of thought was interrupted, and a passing satellite crashed
into her.

Peeling her face of the side of the satellite, she mumbled, "Iz-chan,
you have one sick sense of humor..."

"Sorry about that. Wasn't paying attention," a soft feminine voice
replied as the screen flipped over and shifted back to the parking lot.

Excel stood up from underneath the shopping cart, flipping it over and
spilling the body onto the ground. "Yosh! Thanks, Iz-chan!" she said,
waving to the passing universe with arms.

"Ex... cel..."

Excel leapt at the mention of her name and turned to the previously dead
body. "Hyatt! What are you doing here? We were about to go looking for
you, but you're here anyway so now we don't have to go looking for you
which is a good thing since I lied about planning on looking for you
because you totally escaped our minds, but it's good we found you anyway
cause now you can help us fight Karate Bastard for some reason that was
never really given a clear explanation even though I don't think you'd
really be that much help what with you dying all the time, but still,
you could lend moral support or something, surely, so come with us now
as we go off to the Omakedome as we have been mandated to do so by the
plot of the story and now... You're dead, aren't you?"

"Sorry, sempai..." Hyatt coughed twice and died.

Excel walked over and poked her a couple times with a stick. "Iz-chan?"

"Hai, hai," the Great Will of the Universe responded as it drifted in.

*/ \*

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN I DIDN'T DIAL THE CORRECT NUMBER?!? I *OWN* YOU!! NO
YOU DIDN'T! OH NO! YOU DID NOT JUST REPLAY YOUR RECORDED MESSAGE AT ME!!
YEAH?! *YEAH*?!?! OH, IS THAT A THREAT?! WELL, WE'LL SEE WHO'S LAUGHING
WHEN I *DO* HOLD FOR OPERATOR ASSISTANCE!!! HA! SCARED YOU OFF, DIDN'T
I?! YEAH, YOU BEST BE PLAYING YOUR ELEVATOR HOLDING MUSIC! DAMN
RIGHT!!!!" Karate Bastard ranted into the phone is his dressing room.
Humming along with on-hold tunes, he examined himself in the huge mirror
on his make-up table.

After a few moments of picking at his teeth and straightening his
eyebrows, He took the tub of Vaseline on the counter and started
unbuttoning his Italian silk shirt. With his cleanly shaven chest
exposed, he took a handful of vasoline and began slathering it onto his
body. Getting the perfect sheen was a task only the manliest of men
could ever hope to accomplish. Most amatures would spread it on too thick
and not rub it in evenly, leaving big empty patches of unglossy flesh.
But Karate Bastard was a master at his art. He did not spend five
semesters at Chest Glossing College for nothing.

Out of the corner of of eye, he noticed his dressing room door opening
and a dark figure sneaking into his room. Reacting quickly, he lobbed a
tube of lipstick at the intruder. He quickly picked up the brush used to
apply blush and brandished it at the shadowy figure. "Alright, freak!
Show yourself before I have to get all angsty on your ass!"

"Calm down, Bastard. It's me--"

"Did you just call me a bastard?!"

*/ \*

On the other side of reality, Fourth Wall Ferret facepalmed. "I can't
believe you're stealing jokes from other great works of fiction!"

"Great?" Anonymous Author #7 asked incredulously.

"Shut up!" Fourth Wall Ferret commanded, bapping the author and any
others that snickered at his last statement. "This is a Chibi Fanfic!
There's no time for jokes!"

The authorss eyed the ferret warily.

"I mean... You know what I mean!" it corrected and turned, pointing to
one of the authors. "Johnson. Tell everyone what I meant!"

"I... uh..." the author shrank back from the ferret's gaze. "That Fourth
Wall Ferret is the greatest character ever and that he should be given
his own series?"

"Well, that wasn't exactly my point. But I like that better."

Johnson breathed out a sigh of relief.

"Kiss ass..." a voice from the back mumbled.

"What was that? Who said that?!" Fourth Wall Ferret's fur stood up on
end as it [GLARED] at all the authors.

"No one said anything, sir! We all love you!"

"Damn Skippy. Now, where was I?"

"Getting back to the story, sir?"

"Oh. Fine."

*/ \*

The shadowy figure stepped forward, revealing his face to the greasy
wrestler.

"Ted Nouget!" Karate Bastard exclaimed, pointing.

"No! I am Nabeshin!" Nabeshin posed in a high quality fashion shot.
Sparkles surrounded his marvelously afroed head, while his yellow tie
billowed elegantly in an unsubstantiated wind. His dark blue shirt stood
in contrast with the magenta jacket he wore over it, and to complete the
ensemble, he wore the pinnacle of fashion: denim jeans.

"Nabeshin! It's you!" Karate Bastard exclaimed for the second time,
pointing an even more pointed point than he had previously pointed prior
to the present.

"Of course it's me. I just said that."

"Um... I know, I was just restating that fact for any views who might be
just tuning in." Karate Bastard nodded sagely.

Nabeshin looked at him oddly for a moment. Soon, he remembered his
assigned task. "Karate Bastard, I have come to stop you. You steal men's
souls and make them your slaves."

"It is not by my choice that I am once again given flesh. I was awakened
by *humans* who wish to pay *me* tribute."

"Mankind ill needs a savior like--"

*/ \*

Fourth Wall Ferret gaped at the last exchange. "Now we're ripping off
video games?!"

"It's to add dramatic tension."

"How does that work? The dialogue doesn't even fit with the scene!"

"Umm... Hey, let's see what Excel is doing..."

"Don't you try and change the scene on me--"

*/ \*

In a broom closet-turned-dressing room of the Omakedome, Excel,
dressed in a tangerine costume (not the color, the fruit), was giving
a pep-talk to Pedro, who pulled off a striking ensemble of a pink
tank-top, olive green trunks and black wrestling shoes.

"Excel," Pedro sobbed. "I can't do it. He'll destroy me."

Excel grinned and said, "Don't worry! You have nothing to worry 
about! He's just a big bully! Besides, Hyatt and I will be in your 
corner."

Hyatt, dressed in a black halter top and a white miniskirt, coughed 
violently, slumped against the wall and died.

Excel laughed nervously as a large drop of sweat appeared on her 
forehead. A passerby picked it up, gulped it down, sighed, "I needed 
that! I was thirsty!" and went on his merry way.

"Correction," Excel mumbled. "I'll be in your corner. And together, 
we'll fight! And we'll win! FOR YOUR FAMILY!"

Pedro stood and balled up his fists. "FOR MY FAMILY!"

"FOR LOVE!"

"FOR LOVE!"

"FOR HONOR!"

"FOR HONOR!"

"FOR NICK CAYSHIN!"

"...who?"

"Nick Cayshin. The nice man who let us have our wrestling gear for 
free."

"Oh. FOR NICK CAYSHIN!"

"AND FOR LORD IL PALAZZO!"

"AND FOR LO..." Pedro stopped. "Excel? Who's Il Palazzo?"

Excel broke out in a nervous sweat. 
"Notimeforthatweneedtogetyoutothering!" Excel mumbled as she dragged 
Pedro by his arm and darted towards the entrance ramp leading to the 
ring.

*/ \*

Nabeshin looked at Karate Bastard with a deep sadness in his eyes. "Have
you really changed so much? Don't you remember the nights we would spend
together back at Clown College?" A thought cloud appeared above
Nabeshin's head with a picture of a younger Karate Bastard and Nabeshin
together in clown make-up. The Nabeshin clown hit the Karate Bastard
clown in the face with a large pie.

"Bah! I have nothing but comtempt for those days..." A thought cloud
appeared above Karate Bastard's head with a picture of a younger Karate
Bastard and Nabeshin together in clown make-up. The Nabeshin clown hit
the Karate Bastard clown in the face with a large pie. "You cannot
change me with your dramatic speak, Nabeshin. I am a different man now.
I'm older. More wrinkly. I comb my hair a little different."

"You're BALD," Nabeshin stated.

Karate Bastard continued, "I'm taller. I bathe more regularly. You
wouldn't understand what I have been through in my carreer as a pro
wrestler." Another thought cloud appeared above Karate Bastard's head.
In it, he was rolling around in a huge pile of cash.

"I can only imagine what it must be like for you..." Another thought
cloud appeared above Nabeshin's head. In it, Karate Bastard was rolling
around in a huge pile of cash. "But still, violence isn't the answer!
There has to be a better way! ... I mean, there _has_ to be a better
way! ... The way that there must be has to be better! ... _Somewhere_ a
better way must exist! ... Hold on." Nabeshin opened the door and
shouted out into the hallway. "I said, [THERE HAS TO BE A BETTER WAY]!"

"Oh, right..." A man said as he entered the room. "Um... oh... geez..."
He reached into his coat pocket, he pulled out an index card. Reading
from it, he read, "Karate... Baster--"

"Bastard," Nabeshin corrected, tapping his foot impatiently. "His name
is Karate Bastard."

"DID YOU JUST CALL ME A--"

"No, I didn't. Let the man finish line." Nabeshin admonished.

"Right. Karate Bastard," the man continued, "your...m- ma- match is
aboot- aBOUT to... start. Please, fel- FOLlow me to the... ring." He
then placed the card back into his pocket and stood there smiling,
looking back and forth between the two much more manly men occupying the
room.

Nabeshin gave the man a look that could melt a goat.

"... What?" the man asked, oblivious to it all.

"LEAVE!" Nabeshin commanded. "You're supposed to say your line and then
LEAVE! It's written write there on your cue card!"

The man pulled out the card again and looked it over. After a moment, he
said, "oh, right," turned, and left.

Karate Bastard moved to follow. Nabeshin stopped with his arm, gazing at
the wrestler sternly.

"Did I mess up my blocking?" Karate Bastard asked under his breath.

Ignoring the question, Nabeshin pleaded. "Please don't go into that
ring. It's not worth it to fight again. I know you're better than this.
Stay, for Tetsuka."

"I can't stay, not even for him--"

"Her, Tetsuka was a girl." Nabeshin corrected.

"I would have never guessed. All this time we spent together... but I
digress. I must go do battle. Don't try and stop me. Leave this place.
Go back with Space Butler, where you belong." With that, Karate Bastard
stormed out of the room.

Nabeshin looked down sadly. Another one he thought he trusted had been
corrupted by loose cars, stock women and fast options. But why had he
mentioned Space Butler? Did he knew something Nabeshin didn't?

A tear came to Nabeshin's eye as he thought of how Space Butler
valiantly threw away his life in order to save him.

"Baka..."

He then thought of what Space Butler had given his life to eradicate;
the dreaded Puchu aliens.

"Kawaii..." 

*/ \*

"Puuchuu!"

*/ \*

The ring announer, a comely lady with golden hair and a silver 
ballroom gown, grasped her microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen! Now 
approaching the ring along with 
A-Tangerine-Who-Is-Definitely-Not-Excel,-Member-of-The-Notorious-Across,
and fighting for the love of his family and the honor of all of City 
F, weighing in at 98 pounds, Mr. Nice 'Pedro' Guy!"

The crowd booed and threw foodstuffs as Pedro and Excel walked down 
the ring.

*/ \*

Il Palazzo, watching from the base, furrowed his brow.

"ExDOSUKOIIIIIIIIIIcel," he sighed-and-shouted-and-sighed again.

*/ \*

Once Excel and Pedro entered the ring, Excel grabbed the microphone, 
indignation evident on her face. "How DARE you!" she snarls. "You 
would jeer and boo this poor man?"

The audience booed and hissed. The cameras caught a sign reading, "I 
have m.a.d.c.o.w. Disease!" Milliseconds later, said signbearer was 
surrounded by men in white who injected him with a variety of serums. 
When he woke up hours later, he thought he was a Russian Ballerina.
Later, he found out that he WAS a Russian Ballerina.

"This man," she shouted into the microphone, gesturing towards Pedro. 
"Makes weekly donations to orphanages!"

"BOOO!" the audience shouted.

"He helps old ladies across the street!"

"BOOO!"

"He volunteers at the local hospital!"

"BOOOOOOOO!"

"He-"

The PA system flared to life with the sound of a hippopotamous 
roaring. The crowd erupted with cheers. Standing on top of the 
entrance ramp was Karate Bastard.

"And his opponent," the ring announcer continued. "Weighing in at 
250! Goddamn! Pounds! Of! Badass! KARATE BASTARD!"

Karate Bastard punched out six men, slammed two kids into the 
concrete and fondled three women as he walked towards the ring. And 
the crowd cheered him every step of the way. He then rolled into the 
ring, stopping at every corner to give his two-middle-finger salute 
to the audience who continued to chant, clap and holler in approval. 
He stopped in front of Excel and gave her a mighty push, causing her 
to get tangled into the ropes and whip out of the ring, landing on 
the Jibberishian Announcer's table.

"Ajmbownbe bownbptgh!" the straight-faced Etruscan Announcer 
exclaimed.

"Membotnw!!! Nwlentnxw, alkwengob slkdfj slkdjf ebnnbobne???" the 
hyper Etruscan Announcer shouted.

Excel tried in vain to get untangled from various wires as she tried 
to peel off her tangerine outfit.

Back in the ring, Karate Bastard pointed at Pedro. "Are you ready to 
get your ass kicked?"

Pedro swallowed nervously, glancing over to Excel, who was fighting 
off the advances of the hyper Mesopotamian announcer. "Um, actually-" 
Pedro began.

"Well, then! Let's get started!" Karate Bastard shouted.

The ring announcer closed her eyes and concentrated. "Power of Pan 
which drools on the pillows and snores loudly within me," she 
chanted. Her upper body arched backwards as light began to glow from 
her hands. "Harken unto whomever the crowds favor and grant to us..."

Karate Bastard wrapped his right arm around the body of the leaning 
ring announcer. A cardboard handle popped out from the light, which 
now rested on the ring announcer's chest. Karate Bastard pulled it 
out, revealing a six-pack of beers which shimmered.

"Is this..." Pedro gasped.

"...a trick of the light?" Excel finished. The hyper Mesopotamian 
took the opportunity to glomp Excel who promptly threw him into the 
heavily-sedated Byzantine announcer.

Karate Bastard held the beer aloft and shouted, "THE POWER TO IMPACT 
THE-"

Karate Bastard took another look at the six-pack of beer. He then 
turned with irritation to the ring announcer.

"YOU TALK ME INTO PERFORMING A HIGHLY SYMBOLIC, PSUEDO-EROTIC SCENE 
WITH YOU, AND YOU GIVE ME *LITE BEER*?" he shouted loud enough for 
everyone in the Omakedome to hear.

The ring announcer stammered and jibbered, unsure of what to say.

"DAMN-YOU-KEN!" Karate Bastard yelled as he sent the ring announcer 
skyward with a jumping uppercut. He then grabbed her in midair and 
pinned her head against his left shoulder. When they landed, he let 
go so that the now-unconscious ring announcer would bounce away from 
him.

The crowd erupted in cheers. "KARATE BASTARD!" they chanted. "KARATE 
BASTARD! KARATE BASTARD!"

Karate Bastard held the Lite Beer of Pan in his left hand and made a 
come-hither motion to Pedro with his right hand. "Come get some, you 
smarmy, mealy, wobbly, funky, skanky, blinky, inky, pinky, dopey, 
sleepy, sneezy, happy son of a mother!"

Pedro took a few steps away from Karate Bastard. "Is there any chance 
we cou-"

Karate Bastard pulled a beer out of the pack (which was magically 
replaced) and threw it at Pedro. Pedro ducked in a panic, and the can 
tagged the Downright Slothful Incan announcer. "Eh... ow, I guess," 
he remarked.

"You're a slow one, aintcha?" Karate Bastard asked with a conceited 
laugh. "This ain't no time for talkin'! This is a time for drinking 
beer and kicking ass! SO HAVE A BEER, BITCH!"

Karate Bastard threw a volley of cans at Pedro. Pedro bent, wobbled, 
ducked, weaved, pirouetted, performed five variations of modern dance 
and walked on his hands as he dodged every can.

Excel stood up and cheered. "Go, Pedro! You're doing great! Three 
cheers for Pedro! Pedro! Pedro! He's our man! If he can't do it-"

"SHUT THE HELL UP!" Karate Bastard yelled as he threw a can at Excel.

And time seemed to slow down.

*/ \*

The Great Will of The Universe ("Iz-chan" to you goofy mortals) 
looked with dismay at the Clock of Destiny.

"HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU NORSE GODS?!? THE CLOCK OF 
DESTINY IS NOT A MEAT LOCKER! DON'T STORE YOUR KILLS IN THERE!"

"...verily are we sorry," a few disembodied voices sheepishly 
answered.

The Great Will of The Universe sighed. "Looks like I'll have to clean 
it up myself. Curses..."

*/ \*

Excel's eyes widened in shock as the can began its slow path towards 
her face.

"... ... eeeeeeEEEEEEEK-UH!..." Excel slowly moaned as she 
laboriously raised her hands up in an attempt to block.

Pedro's head turned ever-so-slowly in response to Excel's moan. His 
face gradually becoming wide-eyed with shock, he groaned, "... ... 
..Eeeeeeeeexxxx-ceeeeeeelll!... ..." as he grasped the top rope, 
floated onto the top rope and glided towards Excel.

"... ... Peeeeeee-drooooooo?" Excel asked.

The beer can continued its sluggish course towards Excel's face.

Pedro sailed right into Excel, causing her to teeter to her left 
where she slowly rolled into the guardrail, causing her tangerine 
costume to break, leaving her in her Across uniform. Chunks of 
tangerine floated in the air.

Pedro stared in horror as the beer can slowly spiralled towards his 
face. He motioned to move-

*/ \*

"That should do it," The Great Will of The Universe sighed to itself. 
"This clock should work just fine now."

The Great Will of The Universe turned around to see Thor, Norse God 
of Thunder, carrying a slain elk on his back.

"Thor," The Great Will of The Universe began, pointing at Thor. "You 
weren't planning on using The Clock of Destiny as a meat locker after 
I told you not to, were you?"

Thor shuffled his feet and giggled nervously, "Uh... no?"

*/ \*

Time resumed its flow with a vengeance. The crowd was pelted with 
chunks of tangerine.

And the beer can that Karate Bastard had thrown at Excel hit Pedro in 
the head.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Pedro screamed as he fell upon the 
American announcers' table, causing it to break, splinter and 
disintegrate.

"PEDRO!" Excel shouted. However, it was drowned out by the crowd 
cheering Karate Bastard. She rushed to Pedro's side, carefully 
holding his head. "Speak to me, Pedro."

Pedro smiled weakly at Excel. "Excel," he gasped. "...tell me... 
...about ...the bunny rabbits."

The crowd, watching this on the None-O'-Yo'-Damn-Bidness-O-Tron, 
began to sniffle.

Excel began to cry, but she forced herself to smile for Pedro's sake. 
"The bunny rabbits?" Excel repeated.

Pedro nodded.

"Well," Excel responded. "Bunny rabbits taste really yummy as part of 
a stew, Pedro. Or they can be baked like a chicken. Or they could be 
fried like an onion ring."

The crowd began to sob and cry. Several members of the crowd used 
their cellphones to say "I love you so very much," to their 
mistresses and cell phone providers.

Pedro's body convulsed. "Excel," he gasped. "Could you... make me... 
a rabbit cake?"

Excel nodded as she held Pedro's head close to hear chest, prompting 
a nosebleed from the Hemophiliac Texan announcer. "I'll make you an 
extra-special rabbit cake, Pedro," she whispered with a sniffle. 
"With mongoose frosting."

"Thank you, Excel... ... ...tell... Sanjora... I love..." Pedro 
sighed. A moment later, Pedro's body jerked violently and then became 
limp.

Excel gasped in horror. "...Pedro?"

Pedro did not respond.

Excel started to slap Pedro. "Pedro! Wake up!" She continued to shout 
as she throttled Pedro. When that didn't work, she slammed his body 
back-and-forth into the ground. After that, she hit Pedro's body with 
a baseball bat. "PEDRO! WAKE UP!"

The crowd sobbed uncontrollably. Karate Bastard watched as he 
finished his seventh beer.

"PEDRO! DON'T LEAVE ME!" Excel shouted as she ran over Pedro's body 
with a motorcycle. She then flattened it with a steamroller, but 
Pedro would not rise. As a last-ditch attempt, she dropped a 
battleship on Pedro.

But Pedro would not respond.

Excel sank to her knees, turned her tear-soaked eyes to the heavens 
and shouted with all her might, "PEEEEEEEEEEEEEDROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! 
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Everyone in the arena, save for Karate Bastard and the Californian 
Announcer-Who-Can't-Move-His-Neck-Because-Only-B-List-Celebrities-
Move-Their-Necks, lowered their head for a moment of silence as Excel
continued to cry over her fallen friend.

The ring announcer then perked up and announced, "Karate Bastard 
wins! FLAWLESS VICTORY! FATALITY!"

The crowd erupted in cheers once again. "KARATE BASTARD! KARATE 
BASTARD!" One fan held up a sign that read, "That Karate Bastard 
kills me! And others, too!"

Karate Bastard walked around the ring, stopping at each corner to 
flip off the audience which cheered him on.

"MAH GOD!" the I-Never-Speak-Under-100-Decibles Nunavatian announcer 
shouted. "KARATE BASTARD! KARATE BASTARD! WHAT A MAN! WHAT A FINE 
ROLE MODEL! HAVE MAH BABY, KARATE BASTARD!"

Excel glared at Karate Bastard. "You killed my friend," she coldly 
stated.

Karate Bastard shrugged. "Wasn't nothin' personal. Just doin' my 
job," he nonchalantly remarked.

"DAMN YOU!" Excel shouted, enveloping herself in a fiery yellow 
battle aura which fans used to reheat their nachos and hot dogs. She 
leapt into the ring, yanked out one of the corner poles of the rings 
and wielded it as a weapon. She held her left hand out, her thumb and 
pointer finger facing each other, an inch apart.

"I'm THIS CLOSE to putting you in your place!" she shouted.

The crowd boo'd her.

Karate Bastard chuckled. "Ya don't say?" he laughed. He held his left
hand out, his thumb and pointer finger facing each other, a centimeter
apart. "I'm THIS CLOSE, little missy..."

Excel grasped the ring pole with both hands, awaiting his next move.

"...to screamin' like a schoolgirl and runnin' away. 
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!" Karate Bastard screeched as he ran 
out of the ring and under the None-O'-Yo'-Damn-Bidness-O-Tron.

Excel fell forward and hit the mat with a thud. She then picked 
herself up, ring pole in hand, shouted, "YOU WON'T GET AWAY!" and 
took off in pursuit of Karate Bastard. The entire arena dragged behind
her, the ropes still being attached to the pole.

*/ \*

"Peddy..."

The all-too-familiar swirl of blue galaxies and bright stars and 
green clovers and purple horseshoes (well, okay, not the last two) 
surrounded Pedro. His eyes blinked open slowly. Divine providence had 
somehow shone upon him... Was this heaven? Hell? Limbo? The lack of 
any nearby calypso music ruled out the third, and the lack of boy 
bands ruled out the second.

"Peddy... it's not your time. The Great Will of the Grand 
Universe..."

Iz-chan didn't even get out the complete sentence before some 
long-buried, horrific memory of a similar situation surfaced in 
Pedro's mind. It was just one little mental snapshot, really. Of a 
floating ball of astronomy with a cheap manicure smoking a 
post-coital cigarette.

He ran as fast as his little legs would carry him. Or, rather, he 
*tried* to run until he realized just how little his legs were and 
fell flat on his face into the surprisingly solid non-existent floor.

"Pu... puchu? PUCHU! PUCHUPUCHU!" Pedro puchu'ed.

The soft voice continued, in an embarassed tone. "Pedro... I just
wanted to tell you that we're a little short on spare bodies this
week because fanfiction is so low-budget... so you'll have to do with
a spare for now."

Pedro looked down. Or tried, at any rate. At best, he could make out 
that he was small and cream-white. And wearing a pink diaper. And he 
was extremely, annoyingly, sickeningly *cute*.

"PUCHU!" Pedro puchu'ed indignantly, stamping his cute little foot 
rapidly on the floor... ground... something. "Puchu chuchu puchu!"

"I know it's an inconvenience, so I've arranged for a transla..." the 
voice began, and was then interrupted by a bell. "Ah! Quitting time! 
Do your best, Pedro!"

Before he could utter so much as a single puchu of protest, the blue 
starfield abruptly coalesced into a little ball. Producing a straw 
hat, Iz-chan doffed it and headed off to share margaritas with some 
agreeable voodoo loas. Pedro the Puuchuu Alien was left holding his 
adorable little weapon of death (which looked suspiciously like a 
Halloween costume fairy wand) and sitting in the middle of a wide 
park.

"PUUUUCHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!" Pedro bellowed, and I think we all know 
what he meant.

*/ \*

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

Alright. So in reality, it was a main thoroughfare running between 
downtown F City and the Omakedome, but let's say, theoretically, that 
it was a ranch of some form. Currently, the road was being blocked 
off by a steadily growing wall of sandbags.

"What the heck is he thinking?" whined Noriku Iwata as he heaved 
another sandbag onto the pile, grunting with the effort. "I mean, 
really. We're in the middle of the country! We can't be flooded! How 
are we protecting the citizens of earth like this?"

Beside him, his roommate Oomaru Sumiyoshi nodded his agreement, 
adding "It's kind of dumb" in ever-so-creepy subtitles which floated 
in the air next to him, surprisingly prompting no comment from Iwata.

"Shut your yap!" bellowed Watanabe, tossing another sandbag on the 
pile and wiping his brow, then snagging Iwata in a headlock. "Kababu 
said to do it, and so we're going to do it! Or maybe you'd like to go 
back to our crummy apartment and sit there staring at paint flakes, 
which, I MIGHT add, are the MOST edible things in there right now 
because you have such a lackadaisical attitude toward work and 
haven't done anything other than eye Miss Matsuya since minute one!"

Wincing, Iwata struggled, frowning in annoyance. "I don't care about 
the work... but are these damn SUITS really necessary?" The shot 
pulled back to reveal the three roommates, each one dressed in a 
giant Disney-style character costume of a racoon statue.

Watanabe dropped Iwata like a rock and raised a fist to the sky, eyes 
brimming with manly tears (Ooosha!). "If it will bring me one step 
closer to my ultimate dream, then even this is bearable! For I am 
making a life for myself in... THE FUTURE!"

"You say that," said a feminine voice off-screen, "But I still think 
this is a ridiculous idea."

The camera abruptly panned left, and that ever-so-funky music began 
to play as the body of a bunny-suited Matsuya Misaki was displayed 
from every possible angle, in slow motion, in perhaps the stupidest 
and most gratuitous Matrix parody ever, except that one in Scary 
Movie which was pretty lame... in truth, aren't all of them kind of 
lame? I mean...

"Don't start a soliloquy during my intro," Misaki snapped, eyeing the 
fourth wall with a look that clearly had "T-1000 Badass" written all 
over it.

Pulling away from the lame humor with obvious effort, the author 
attempted to reassert control over his story before it was TOO LATE. 
Thus, in an attempt to keep any MORE fourth wall breakage from 
occ...*GACK*

Misaki holstered the gun at her side. "I warned him."

*/ \*

"Mr. Author..."

The blue light filtered through the fourth wall briefly. "Mr. Author, 
we can't continue the story without you. Now, with this great power, 
let our author be restored and the story resume!"

There was a pause. Nothing appeared to happen. Iz-chan drummed her 
fingers in mid-air and looked around. She coughed and tried it again.

"Now, with this great power, let our author be restored and the story 
resume!" she said, using the tried-and-true method of speaking both 
very loudly and very slowly in the hopes that it would somehow make 
the sentence easier to understand.

A great deal of nothing continued to happen. Insofar as a floating 
starmap can, Iz-chan looked perturbed. This... could prove to be 
problematic.

Sighing, she turned around and got her phone book. "Maybe there's 
been some kind of funding issue... I guess we'll have to call in a 
pinch hitter until we can get an author back..."

*/ \*

Thunder boomed! The skies cracked and split, loosing torrents of rain 
upon the parched earth, stained with the blood of many warriors, 
valiant and brave. The earth shuddered in the throes of a final 
conflict so titanic, so horrific, so gruesomely TEUTONIC that it 
could only be called Vahalla!

"YEA, my servants!" boomed the seven-foot, fur-clad form of Il 
Palazzo, speaking from atop his mighty steed. "The end of the world 
is near! Now is the time for the mighty warriors of ACROSS to show 
their valor in battle!"

"Hail, Il Palazzo!" Head Valkyrie Excel boomed, puffing out her chest 
to fill the foot or so of space between breast and breastplate, her 
winged helmet tilting forward over her eyes. "I, your loyal servant, 
shall smite all who oppose you!"

Il Palazzo nodded, shifting his position on his horse and waving an 
arm around to encompass the destroyed landscape. "Beware, Valkyrie 
Excel! The Bastard Serpent is MIGHTY!" (Oosha!) "It was he who caused 
all this destruction!"

Saluting with a loud metallic *CLANG*, Excel stood to attention. "Do 
not worry, Lord Il Palazzo! I shall smite him with my spear and magic 
helmet!"

Il Palazzo blinked. "Spear and magic helmet?"

Excel nodded. "Spear and magic helmet!"

Valkyrie-in-Training Hyatt looked up from the place on the ground 
where her unmoving body lay. "Magic helmet?"

A man wearing full platemail and with an afro the size of Cleveland 
popped into the shot. "I'm Nabeshin."

*/ \*

"Vat do you zink?" Wagner asked, leaning back in his chair and 
allowing Iz-chan to peer over his shoulder.

"It's HORRIBLE! Are you on CRACK? What are they FEEDING you in 
Asgard? Pot brownies?" The Great Will of the Grand Universe (now with 
Retsyn) bellowed. Pausing, the floating ball of blue brushed herself 
off and coughed. "What I mean is... I just don't think that's up to 
series standard. Thanks for your time. We'll give you a call."

"But I... vait! Nein! NEEEEEEEIN...!" Wagner protested and was 
quickly cut off as Iz-chan sent him back where he belonged: among 
large-breasted, blonde German women who could melt iron with a high 
C.

"Well, this just won't do. We'll have to find someone else in a 
hurry..." Iz-chan lamented, flipping through her phone book once 
again...

*/ \*

Mr. 
As-Yet-Unnamed-Lawyer-Character-Who-Most-Likely-Has-A-Sub-Plot-Of-His-Own 
proceeded to laugh in his office as the phone rang. "HA HA!" he 
laughed into the phone. "Ha ha ha ha ha!"

He then listened.

"You want me to what?"

He listened.

"Right now?"

He listened.

"Okay. But I want something special in return."

He paused and swallowed.

"I want... a new name!"

He listened, a wide smile on his face.

"So be it! Great doing business with you! Good bye!" he cheerfully 
said as he hung up the phone. He then walked to his computer and 
placed his hands on the keyboard. "And it falls upon me, Maximum 
Shirley, to write the rest of this chapter! HA HA HA HA HA HA 
HA*ACK*!"

Maximum Shirley slumped forward, unconscious, on his keyboard. Behind 
him, Fourth Wall Ferret shook his head sadly, tapping a blackjack in 
the palm of his right hand.

*/ \*

"Explain to me again how this is supposed to protect the city," 
Misaki ordered to Watanabe.

Watanabe smiled and blushed as he explained, "You see, Misaki, these 
bags are filled with concrete."

There was a pause.

"And?" Misaki asked, motioning him to go on.

"It's CONCRETE! Don't you get it?!?" he shouted hysterically. "It'll 
hold them!"

A subtitle reading, "Who's them?" appeared to the left of Sumiyoshi.

"Y'know! THEM! THOSE GUYS! The ones we're supposed to stop!" Watanabe 
sobbed. "Don't you know who I'm talking about?"

Misaki, Sumiyoshi and Iwata shook their heads.

Watanabe sighed. "Damn. I was hoping that you could tell me."

Misaki, Sumiyoshi and Iwata fell onto their faces. Sumiyoshi and 
Iwata then proceeded to beat Watanabe.

"Knock it off, guys!" Misaki ordered. "We need to remove these 
concrete bags before-"

All four of them were distracted by a fleeing man in a pink cowboy 
hat, black vest and blue hakama.

"Was that one of the Village People?" Iwata asked.

Watanabe responded, "I think that was *three* of the village people."

"YOU WON'T GET AWAY WITH THIS!" Excel shouted, wildly swinging the
turnbuckle she carried in front of her, behind her the rest the arena
dragged, still attached to the ropes on the turnbuckle. "KARATE
BASTARD, YOU'LL PAY!"

Misaki snarled, "Excel..." as she ran past. "When I get my hands on 
you, I'll-"

"PUCHUUUUUUUUUUU!" Pedro squealed as he hobbled after Excel. "Pu Pu 
Chuuuuu Chuuu Puchu!"

"Puchu..." Misaki muttered with gritted teeth.

Nabeshin ran past, shouting, "Outta my way!" He was followed closely 
by two men in black suits shouting for him to surrender.

"And Nabeshin?!?" Misaki asked out loud. "C'mon, guys! Let's take 
these ridiculous suits off and put a stop to them!"

Watanabe and Iwata yelled in unison, "Misaki! Wait!" A subtitle that 
read the same message appeared above Sumiyoshi's head.

"There's no time for that!" Misaki angrily barked as she tore off her 
bunny suit to reveal...

...a lacy white bra and panties underneath. When she felt a draft and 
saw a significant lack of an SAAP uniform, her whole body turned red. 
Watanabe and Iwata suffered simultaneous nosebleeds. Sumiyoshi somehow
subtitled a nosebleed.

"...you go on without me," Misaki mumbled as she tried to cover 
herself with her arms. "I'll catch up with you shortly." She then 
scooted into a nearby building, followed by Iwata and the Hormonally
Enhanced Finlandian announcer.

*/ \*

Meanwhile, two of the world's finest minds were having a 
groundbreaking discussion on the meaning of life.

"Moooooo?" Bessie the cow asked.

Ursula the cow nodded and replied, "Moooo."

*/ \*

Karate Bastard knelt on the side of the F Grade Bridge, panting and 
waving himself with his cowboy hat. "That crazy bitch won't ever find 
me here," he bragged to himself between breaths.

"That's right!" the Overstating-The-Painfully-Obvious American 
announcer hollered into his microphone, standing next to Karate 
Bastard. "That feisty little girl won't ever find Karate Bastard 
while he's hiding atop the F Grade Bridge!"

"AHA! So THAT'S where he is! Thank you, Mr. Announcer!" Excel shouted 
from a distance.

Karate Bastard glared at the sheepish-looking announcer.

"Not in the face!" the Overstating-The-Painfully-Obvious American 
announcer begged, falling to his knees.

Karate Bastard laughed. "All right. I won't hit you in the face," he 
chuckled. He then picked the announcer up into a military press. "I'm 
going to throw your loudmouthed ass off of this bridge!"

Excel ran onto the scene and pointed the turnbuckle at Karate Bastard.
Behind it dragged the rest of the arena. "I got you now!" she
hollered.

"EH-EH!" Karate Bastard shouted as he shook his head. "Y'see, if you 
don't drop that turnbuckle and give yourself up, I'm going to throw 
this tub of lard off of this bridge here!"

Excel defiantly shook the turnbuckle. "Oh, yeah?" she responded. 
"Well... well..." She looked around. She saw Pedro the Puchu running 
her way. She dropped the turnbuckle, picked him up, put him in a 
headlock and smiled maniacally at Karate Bastard. "Two can play at 
that game, Karate Bastard! If you don't surrender, I'll throw him off 
of this bridge!"

"PU-CHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!" Pedro screamed in protest as it 
tried to wriggle free.

Karate Bastard stared, jaw agape, at Excel. "You wouldn't!" he 
gasped.

Excel nodded and gave an unnerving giggle. "Oh, yes I would!" she 
singsonged.

"No! You wouldn't!"

"Yes, I would!"

"You wouldn't!"

"Would too!"

"Would not!"

"Would!"

"Unwould!"

"Would times the squared root of the third derivative of infinity times
x plus seven all over pi!"

"No," Karate Bastard gasped. "Not over pi! ANYTHING but pi!" His
stance began to falter. He scanned the bridge in desperation, hoping
to find something that would tip the scales in his favor.

He found it.

Tossing the announcer over the side of the bridge, he extended his 
right arm and put his hand into a fist. Nabeshin ran right into it. 
Karate Bastard put Nabeshin in a headlock. "Try THIS on for size! If 
you don't surrender to me..." Karate Bastard pulled out an electric 
razor and held it inches from Nabeshin's sideburns. "I'll cut off all 
of his hair!"

Excel's face paled, and her grip on Pedro the Puchu faltered 
ever-so-slightly. "Not... not his wonderful hair," she said, on the 
verge of tears.

"EVERY LAST LOCK!" Karate Bastard boasted. "It'll all come off unless 
you surrender to me!"

Watanabe, Iwata and Sumiyoshi ran onto the scene and stopped dead in 
their tracks. "It's a hostage situation!" Watanabe yelled, grabbing 
his head and sinking to his knees.

"I know just how to handle it!" Misaki announced.

The camera panned left, and the same funky music began to play as the 
camera showed Misaki's uniformed body from every angle. The shots 
ended when Misaki backhanded the camera lens.

"Attention, Excel and member of the Village people!" Misaki shouted 
through a megaphone. "Release your hostages at once and surrender!"

"I'll never surrender!" Excel proudly announced.

Karate Bastard laughed arrogantly. "Why should I give up to you?" he 
asked.

Misaki paused. If she didn't think of something...

"If you don't surrender..." she responded, trying to buy time.

Then an idea hit her.

She flipped over to behind Sumiyoshi and put him into a stranglehold. 
"If you don't surrender, then he gets it!"

Watanabe and Iwata swallowed nervously. A subtitle reading, "Do what 
she says! She'll do it, by crikey!" appeared under Sumiyoshi's chin.

"Puuuuuu..." Pedro whimpered, slowly running out of air.

Nabeshin grunted as he reached for something in his spiffy red coat. 
"Sorry... Karate... Bastard..." he whispered.

"What the-?" Karate Bastard shouted.

"MERCILESS SELTZER WATER ATTACK!" Nabeshin shouted as he sprayed 
Karate Bastard's face with seltzer water. Karate Bastard stumbled 
backwards, covering his face and screaming in pain.

Excel jumped up and down in glee, swinging her arms wildly and 
launcing Pedro the Puchu to the river below. 
"PU-CHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!" it screamed.

Nabeshin tucked the seltzer water bottle away. "Don't make me do 
this, Karate Bastard. I know your weakness!" he yelled in a pleading 
voice.

Karate Bastard snarled at Nabeshin and ran towards him. But Nabeshin 
pulled a fire hydrant out of his coat and sprayed him. Karate Bastard 
flew back twenty feet and sunk to his knees.

"The fire hydrant," Misaki gasped, letting go of Sumiyoshi. "Of 
course. To a pro wrestler, it's Kryptonite..."

Sumiyoshi took a deep breath and subtitled, "It's good to breathe 
again."

"TAKE ME HOSTAGE IN HIS PLACE, MATSUYA MISAKI!" Iwata shouted. 
Moments later, he fell down, unconscious, a victim of one hundred of 
Misaki's slaps.

Karate Bastard stood up, shining with a white aura. "SUPER NO-SELL!" 
he shouted, dashing towards Nabeshin once more.

"LOOK OUT, NABESHIN!" Excel hollered.

"Be careful, Nabeshi-" Hyatt whispered before collapsing in 
Watanabe's arms and dying.

Watanabe blushed. "Ayasugi-san..." he mumbled.

Nabeshin stood his ground as Karate Bastard dashed towards him. 
"DAMN-YOU-KEN!" Karate Bastard yelled as he attempted to knock 
Nabeshin skyward with a rising uppercut.

However, Nabeshin grabbed Karate Bastard's arm and put him in a 
headlock. A giant portrait of Nabeshin's head appeared from nowhere, 
knocking Excel, Misaki, Iwata and Sumiyoshi over. The sky around them 
turned purple. The giant Nabeshin head disappeared, and the 
normal-sized Nabeshin slammed his fist against the top of Karate 
Bastard's hat. "NABESHIN NAPALM NOOGIE!" he shouted as he rubbed his 
fist back and forth agasint Karate Bastard's head, causing it to 
burst into flames. Nabeshin finished the move by releasing Karate 
Bastard and knocking him down with a mule kick. The sky returned to 
normal, and Karate Bastard lay on the street, face-up.

"Na... Nabeshin," Karate Bastard weakly muttered.

Nabeshin, Excel, Hyatt (newly-revived and being carried by Watanabe), 
Misaki, Iwata and Sumiyoshi surrounded the fallen Karate Bastard. 
"I... I'm here, Karate Bastard."


"Y... you know wha... what you must do, Na... Nabeshin. Put an end... 
to this," Karate Bastard pleaded, weakly reaching out to Nabeshin.

Nabeshin cried, "But I can't! You ask too much!"

"Please... Nabeshin.  Do it.  Do it... for Bozo," Karate Bastard
gasped.

Excel, Hyatt, Watanabe, Iwata and Sumiyoshi pulled out handkerchiefs. 
Excel, Watanabe and Iwata broke into sobs. Hyatt coughed blood into 
hers and died. Sumiyoshi polished his subtitles.

Nabeshin paused and nodded slowly. "For Bozo," he echoed. He kneeled 
down to Karate Bastard.

He then pinned him.

A referee ran from out of nowhere, slid next to Karate Bastard and 
slapped his hand on the groun three times, accenting each slap with a 
count.

"YOUR WINNER! NABESHIN!" the referee yelled, grabbing Nabeshin's left 
arm, yanking him to an upright position and holding his arm up high.

And the crowd went wild.

Karate Bastard rolled over, stood up, shouted, "Damn it!" and stomped 
off.

"Karate Bastard!" Nabeshin shouted.

"ARE YOU CALLING ME A BASTARD?" Karate Bastard sneered.

Nabeshin shook his head. "No," he calmly replied, walking over to 
Karate Bastard. He grabbed the retreating wrestler's right hand with 
his left and raised it high. "I'm calling you a friend, Funny-Face."

And the crowd went wild, chanting, "Nabeshin!" and "Karate Bastard!" 
over and over.

"That's so touching," Misaki whispered.

Excel broke out into a bawl and glomped Misaki! "I LOVE YOU, MISAKI!" 
she wailed.

"I love you, too, Excel," Misaki softly replied.

"I LOVE YOU, TOO, MISAKI!" Iwata hollered, attempting to glomp 
Misaki. However, Misaki's back kick knocked him onto the ground.

Watanabe hugged the just-revived Hyatt. "I LOVE YOU, AYASUGI-SAN!" he 
shouted.

Hyatt died.

Sumiyoshi looked around and shed a tear. "I am unloved," he 
subtitled.

*/ \*

"Peddy-chan. It is not your time to die. You must live, Peddy-chan."

Pedro looked up at Iz-chan, grateful at another chance at life. He 
opened his mouth to thank her.

"Mooooo!" said. He looked at himself. "Mooo?"

Iz-chan giggled nervously. "I'm sorry, Peddy-chan. The universe needs 
more dairy products, so..."

"MOOOO!" Pedro protested.

"I'm sorry, Peddy-chan! But I must go now!" Iz-chan said as she 
floated off.

Pedro then heard the clanging of a bucket.

"All right, Bessie," a gruff voice said. "Time to get milked."

"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" 
Pedro shouted.

*/ \*

Excel and Hyatt stood before Il Palazzo.

"RepoDOSKOUIIIrt!" Il Palazzo commanded.

Excel fell to her knees and cried, "I'm sorry, Il Palazzo-sama! But 
Karate Bastard got away. But please don't make me fall down the pit!"

Il Palazzo walked towards Excel. "I won't make you fall down the 
pit," he calmly said. He placed his hands on Excel's shoulders.

"I'LL CHOKESLAM YOU DOWN THE PIT! DOSKOUIIII!" he shouted as he 
grabbed Excel by the neck and slammed her through the trapdoor and 
down the pit.

"Looks like Excel is falling down agaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa-" Excel 
shouted.

Il Palazzo walked back to his throne. "Hyatt, what happened?" he 
asked, sitting down.

"I'm sorry, Il Palazzo-sama," Hyatt softly said. "We were so caught 
up by the touching scene, we let Karate Bastard get away."

Il Palazzo sighed. "You're a sensitive woman, aren't you? Well, I 
don't blame you."

"I'M A SENSITIVE WOMAN, TOO!" Excel shouted, splashing around the 
bottom of the pit. "If you prick me, do I not bleed, Il 
Palazzo-sama?!?"

Ignoring Excel, Il Palazzo told Hyatt, "Please curb your 
emoDOSKOUIIIItions during your next mission. There is no place in 
Across's woDOSKOUIIIIrld for the rotten, no matter how touching they 
are."

Hyatt nodded, slumped forward and died.

"You two are dismissed. Leave me to plan."

Neither lady was able to comply.

*/ \*

A middle-aged man with outrageous blonde hair and a large, askew 
moustache looked out the window of the mayor's office. He didn't turn 
around when the door opened and someone slipped in.

"Maximum Shirley," he emotionlessly remarked.

Maximum Shirley nodded. "Kabapu, head of the Safety Assurance 
Agency," he remarked.

Kabapu sighed. "I'm not supposed to be in the story until chapter 3."

Maximum Shirley slapped his forehead. "DAMN! My bad. I'm sorry. I'll 
be going now."

Maximum Shirley slipped out of the mayor's office. Kabapu sighed, 
twirled his moustache like a propeller blade and sighed.

*/ \*

 / / / EXPERIMENT 1: \ \ \
/ / / SCHRÖDINGER'S HANGNAIL \ \ \

 / / / RESULT: \ \ \
/ / / FAILED \ \ \

*/ \*

EXCEL: The sun shines bright on my old Kentucky home, but if a tree 
falls on it and nobody is there, does it make a sound? The shadows of 
the past are illuminated by the lights of the future, but my present 
is so bright, I have to wear shades. I don't know what I'm talking 
about, but I know that the next episode of "Excel Saga: Binary Tree 
Version" is going to be called "The Yak And Other Things You 
Shouldn't Stick In Your Ear," so be sure not to miss it, okay? 
Bye-bye!

*/ \*

Author's Notes (FOR REAL THIS TIME):

Ranma X:

We'll...I'm happy I contributed somethoing to the story, adding a bit of
randomness, but I didn't add much. Maybe in the next part or something. Il
Pallazo-sama! Wai Wai!Wa-(falls into pit)-aaaaAAAAAAAAAAAH!!

W4(holding rope): Um... oops, didn't mean to do that. kind of a gut reaction I
guess.

Well, I hope you, the reader had as much fun reading this as we, the
authors, had writing it.  This was written mainly on the message board
of Indie Madnesse, an improvisational fanfiction site which can be
found at http://indiemadnesse.sandwich.net.

Having recently discovered the wild, wacky world of Excel Saga, I just
HAD to share the lunacy with my online pals.  However, since most of
us don't have the time, connection and/or patience to download what
episodes are available, this works.

Sorta.

Kinda.

Well, *I* thought it was fun and funny.  Then again, I *am* biased.

One thing that really impressed me about "Excel Saga," aside from its
relentless and outrageous humor, was how each episode (note that I've
only seen the first ten so far) had a solid beginning and ending, and
yet they still managed to link together sequentially.  Why did this
leave its mark on me?  In my time-and-life-consuming hobby of
improvisational fanfiction, most chapters and parts end either in
cliffhangers or direct tie-ins to the next chapter.  So I tried to
get this story going with the intention of putting it up for impro
consideration at Indie Madnesse.  I can just picture queued authors
or groups unleashing their senses of humor to parodize, poke fun and
generally be goofy, tying it up in one neat package, and still
contributing to the story's overall flow... if it has/needs one.

I guess "Chibi Impro: Authors' Spotlight" would be one way of putting
it.

At any rate, if you, the reader, want to see more of this story (or,
better yet, WRITE more of this story), head to Indie Madnesse and make
yourself heard.  Or read.  Same difference. ^_^;

For hardcore fans of "Excel Saga," this is supposed to take place
between episodes... [pulls out a calculator and presses buttons
frantically] ...episodes 1 and 26 of the series. ^_^;;

Send compliments to the other three authors and anything else to
indiemadw4@home.com.

*/ \*

"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"