The figure converses with itself, sometimes raising it's voice to a yell, other times a low, babbling mutter pours continuously from it's vocal orifice.
There seems to be an argument taking place within it's head. There's some foul words directed at a Hamster, but there appears to be no actual Hamster anywhere in the vicinity.
The argument reaches a crescendo....
“SHUT UP, HAMSTER...RHODE ISLAND WILL BE DESTROYED!”
The figure cackles in evil glee, and assumes his coolest bad guypose.
“The only being in the universe that could stop me now is-”
A tremendous flash of light blazes from the sky, crashing down upon the roof with an earth-shattering kaboom.
The lurker picks itself up, coughing. As the dust settles, a shining figure is revealed before him.
The silhouette of a Terran female, a cape flowing gracefully off of her shoulders.
So...Bright.
So...Clean.
So...Springtime fresh.
The small, twisted lurker knows this can only mean one thing....He points an angry, multi-knuckled digit at the new arrival.
“LAUNDRY GIRL!”
The heroine tries to look imposing, but only manages 'bossy.' Her neat, spotless uniform somehow summons visions of a waitress or nurse, rather than any superhero. Her only larger-than-life-feature is her well padded rear end.
“Stop right there, you Xeno scoundrel! I'll nag you to death if you don't!”
The miscreant alien recoils visibly at the word 'nag,' and seems genuinely affronted.
“What, like you don't hassle me enough already? Gimme a break, Laundry Girl, your threats are as empty as my wallet!”
Laundry Girl takes a spray bottle off of her 'utility belt' and squirts the alien menace quickly.
“Bad; Tentacled Meanie, Bad!”
“Ack!” cries the Xeno, his alien appendages swiping at the mist, “curse your fabric softener!”
Laundry Girl grins widely, as she flawlessly executes a series of backflips that take her outside the range of a series of retaliatory attacks.
“It's stain remover, dumbass,” she mocks, “you look you had some ground-in dirt and mud on your...I hesitate to call it a face....”
“What...EVER!” screams the Xeno, “You're too late to save Rhode Island! Here, catch!”
Huge air conditioner units are torn from the roof, and sent flying. A crane weighing several dozen tons is grasped by an octopus-like arm, and hurled at an incredible velocity toward the dryer-fresh heroine.
Moving with Matrix-like agility, Laundry Girl neatly dodges the enormous hunks of steel and iron, landing only a few feet in front of her rival.
They stare at each other for several seconds, until the crane and several tons of air conditioning units crash to the streets below.
There's panicked screaming, and almost immediately the sounds of sirens begin.
The two arch enemies grin familiar, gremlin-ish grins at one another.
“This is always a hoot,” chuckles the Xeno.
“Yeah,” nods Laundry Girl, “but you know this isn't Rhode Island, right?”
The Xeno stares blankly for a moment, and it's next words appear directed internally.
“That's the last time I let you work the GPS, Hamster...”
…unsurprisingly, there's no audible reply....
He turns his attention back to Laundry Girl, “Regardless...I've read some things on the internet lately that lead me to believe that...wherever this is need to be punished immediately. By explosion!”
Laundry Girl just smirks knowingly. “Read it on the internet, eh? That's kind of like listening to Rush Limbaugh - not always the smartest plan, buddeh. And exploding things? That's so Jersey. You can do better than that. What's got you so worked up, anyway?”
“Have you seen THIS, Laundry Girl?”
The alien begins to rant a bit now, but it's unclear if the words are solely his, or the mysterious, absentee Hamster's...
“My plans for the Xenos domination of this miserable planet were inspired by this infamous yearly event! How dare they-who-shall-not-be-named CANCEL IT? How the heck am I going to complain about it now? This is clearly some sort of Imperial plot!”
Laundry Girl gives the maniacal little Xeno a flat glare.
“It's always the Imperials with you, isn't it? Did ya ever stop to think-”
“SILENCE! Thinking is overrated,” shouts the crazed alien in a rabid fashion, “and...and....DON'T YOU JUDGE ME! If it's not the Imperials, I guarantee the Australians had something to do with it...they're not to be trusted, y'know...”
“Wait, what? What do Australians have to do with anything?” Laundry Girl appears momentarily puzzled, 'is this about Kirby and those French jokes? I thought you contracted a Marsupial hit squad.”
“Never mind that,' continues the Xeno, “Examine THIS, as it proves the Imperials are conspiring against me!”
Laundry Girl seems genuinely impressed. “Hey, that's pretty bad ass! An entire series of awesome step-by-step painting how-to from a killer painter. And he uses medical tweezers for his parts! I love this stuff!”
“Uh...surely you mean 'he makes use of hemostats during the assembly process.' Terran males might take umbrage at your use of the words 'tweezers' and 'parts' in that sentence.”
Laundry Girl looks up from admiring the Vindicator to see the affronted Alien mottling with genuine rage. She gulps just a little, as she knows what his temper tantrums are like (they ARE Rivals, after all), and decides to distract him.
“Hey Squid Face- Check this out! Maybe you'll stop throwing things for a minute?”
The Xeno pauses in the midst of trying to yank a corner of the building off.
“Fine. I will resume murdering you and exploding stuffs momentarily.”
“I mean, he's got some pretty pictures – check out those wings! And he's talking tactics and list building. I know you enjoy that, right? And... well... there's always this!”
“C'mon, You gotta stop thinking I'm out to get you. Paranoid much?”
The Xeno wipes the acidic, Megan Fox inspired drool from his chins with one appendage, and removes the others from his crotches. He steps back from the rapidly congealing, oozy puddle he's secreting.
“Paranoid?' he scoffs, “Maybe you don't know that Australians and the Imperials aren't alone in this! After I'm done here, I've got a blog to destroy!”
“Not only is my most recent enemy an Imperial, and a Space Wolf player to boot, but I'm sure he's from Rhode Island!”
Laundry Girl breaks out a Tide Stain Stick and waves it menacingly at SinSynn.
“Hey! NO. DESTROYING. WULFVIR! The guy knows how to use the word 'capricious'! He's ok in my book. Besides, he's brave enough to argue with YOU, so he can't be all bad! You want someone to destroy, check THIS out..”
“Next you'll tell me he's not even from Rhode Island.”
Laundry Girl sighs deeply, “Well, actually, he's from-”
“I DON'T WANNA HEAR IT!”
Laundry Girl gestures angrily.
“That kind of talent should be illegal. It's totally WRONG for him to flaunt such a cool ass conversion and I'm just BURNT that I can't do that kind of thing. Make it go away!”
The multi-tentacled Xeno scootches away from the TideStick, while considering the 'bait' offered by Laundry Girl. The option to create random chaos, and possibly destroy stuffs causes his slimy face to twitch into what might be considered smiles, and a rumbly, reverberating giggle comes out of one of his orifices.
“Excuse me...I consumed several Terran housepets earlier, and they're disagreeing with me.”
He glances at the image presented to him.
“This is a trick- that vehicle is Imperial! What are you trying to-”
Whatever he was going to say is cut off quite suddenly, as soft, paper-like white squares start impacting upon him with machine gun like rapidity.
“Taste the Snuggles, vile Xeno! When I'm done with you, you'll smell nice AND be static-free!”
The alien flails about, trying to fight off the deluge of dryer sheets.
“Noooooo!” he wails, “it WAS a trap!”
In a matter of moments, the battle is over. The Xeno is bound in cushiony, quilted, sweet scented restraints.
As ever, his vocal orifice continues to spew unabated.
“Curse you, Laundry Girl! You may have won this time, but I'll be back! Next time, I'll be armed with spaghetti sauce and cooking grease! Let's see you get that out of your tidy whities!”
Laundry Girl pats the non-Terran on the arm. “There, there. You just keep your hopes up. I have a SECRET WEAPON(TM) and I'm not afraid to use it...”
“Since when is your well padded derriere a secret? You should maybe get a longer cape.”
[The scene cuts away as SinSynn struggles to escape his imprisonment, and Laundry Girl starts cleaning up messes, muttering about “worse than at home”. SinSynn gripes about Not-Brent selling him Play-Dough in packages labeled 'C4,' and vows to extract his revenge upon Rhode Island. He's positive that's where Not-Brent resides.]
-The (well padded) End?
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