"Despite my super-ultra-giga-secret identity, my family has gathered around my steamy cauldron filled with my cuisine finesses." Freakazoid walked around the living-room of his home. In the snug space was a soft and wide sofa on the middle floor, and a couple of armchairs arranged beside it. There sat Family Douglas, Freakazoid's girlfriend Stephanie, Cosgrove, and even the man with the kilt, Roddy. Unfortunately Freakazoid's loyal sidekick, Foamy the Freakadog, was not present. He had been granted with the leading role in Steven Spielberg's new movie called "Indiana Jones XXII: Return of the Canine Mummy and His Puppies", and he was at the moment barking in the filming location, earning $300267858576523 an hour.
However, let us return to observe the homey atmosphere that calmly lied in this warm family room. Ah, those hearty expressions those close friends had on their faces! They were gently twisted to express the ultimate nausea, the noses pinned with clothes pegs, and everyone seemed on purpose to avoid the hot, big pot amongst them.
"And now… It's DINNER TIME!" Dexter yelled enthusiastically, starting to deliver gigantic plates for everyone. "Now, don't be shy… just extend your spoons and enjoy mon grand finale! C'est le ciel de la friandise, ce casserole ici! Oo, I can speak French! Mamma mia!"
"Uh, thanks Freakazoid, but… uh… I'm on a slimming cure", Steph pouted and attempted to push away the plate full of that green, cloddy delicacy.
"Mrs. Douglas! You'll love this!" the superteen son of the family dosed his mother the largest portion. Of course without revealing his super-ultra-giga-secret identity.
"Umh… oh, I think I heard the parrot screaming upstairs! I have to go to see that the cat is not eating it! Sorry, I'll be back in a minute!" she smirked and vanished in the doorway.
"Aye, bad news. I just heard me watch computer telling that ta Pisa Tower is about ta collapse. A meteorite has hit it. And dat ta cannibal tulips are eating people around ta tower. I have ta go ta hinder it!" Roddy interjected, and darted out of the door, only leaving the smoldering carpet behind.
"Eee… there's coming The Super Soccer League's Super Duper Match today on TV! Starting right now!" the father of the family took a bounce at the telly, beginning to bite his fingernails. "Oh no! I missed already twenty and half seconds!"
"I gotta go to bully my brother. If I can find him." Duncan shrugged stupidly and vanished also in the doorway.
"How about you, Cosgrove? You have aaalways adored exotic dishes… ahh, cannot you sniff the heavenly perfume of the Française fields?" Freakazoid offered his friend a plate.
"Is something burning here?" the old policeman smelled the air and looked around. "Hey, Freakazoid, can I have a sandwich and some coffee?"
"What? Even you won't dare to taste my parsnip pu…" the blue boy was shocked. No one wanted to be the taster! Everyone rejected him!
"Can I have a sandwich and some coffee?"
"B-b-b-but Cosgrove! You can't do this to me!" a hysteric despair began shadowing Freak's face.
"Can I have a sandwich and some coffee?"
"But my FOOD! My PARSNIP PUDDING!"
"Can I have a sandwich and some coffee?"
"Waaaaaah! Uaaaah!" The poor Freakazoid could not stand any more, but burst into bitter tears. All his efforts, all his inventive skills were smacked down from the sky like a broken kite. And he had so much believed in his victory, believed in that he could have won that magnificent competition. He would never become a French Chef. Never would he hear the thundering applauds of the audience, when presenting his wonderful parsnip creation. And so, the beaten hero retreated, walking now in a dismal back lane of the city. The gloomy melody of a blue violin could be heard accompanying his dragging steps. Fast-flowing tears were trickling down his cheeks, as he pondered heavily about all the miseries of his life.
"Sniff, sniff, sneef… I'll never be anything! Waaa! I… I was ab-able in time to stand the fact that they don't sell any more Mickey Mouse balloons in the corner store. But not this! NOT THIS! WAHAHAAA!"
Suddenly a threatening idea popped into his head. "Sniff! That's it! I… quit. I quit it. I won't be a superhero any more. W-where they need me? Sniff… the world is f-full of supermen, and –women, superdogs, superbirds, supermice, supercars, supernovas and superdetergent. Where they need the p-poor Freakazoid any more?"
¡SHOCK!
"Hey, hey, wait a moment there!" a voice on the other side of the lane could be heard. The annoyed Lobe came running towards the depressed one, Steph rushing on the criminal mastermind's heels.
"What do you mean you QUIT? You can't do that! I have just figured out and planned my newest evil scheme that is targeted towards you! I need you to be a part of my scheme! If you quit being a superhero, how can I ever start carrying it out? You are supposed to, according to the story plot, try to stop me and fight against the traps that are situated in the near environment of my superconductive windmill! And I'm supposed to arrest you and aim my hyper-death ray towards you!" the villain spread his arms in terror. Without Freakazoid, he would be unemployed!
"Sorry, Lobe, but I've made my mind", Freakazoid sighed. He went on shambling along in the muddy alley his head bowed and his hair trailing.
"But, but, that's just UNFAIR! Don't you understand, you stupid careless mutant, how much effort and brainpower I put into my newest evil scheme! I mean, you don't just go and invent a windmill every day!" the foe did not give up. Following Dexter he nagged at him, his hands on hips.
"Unfair? Don't you think it's not unfair that I work days, weeks, months, planning and developing my recipe of parsnip pudding with sauerkraut? Oh, all the sleepless nights, all the toiling, in vain! No one cares about my feelings! Wahahaa!" the hot tears came back to Freakazoid's eyes. Burnt out, he flopped down on the pavement and only cried frantically.
And now, Professor Phileas P. Hocuspocus continues his important and educating documentary on the life of fireflies.
All known firefly larvae have photic organs and produce light. The behavioral function of the larval light has received considerable speculation and several plausible theories have been proposed. However, the most generally accepted hypothesis is firefly larvae use their luminescence as a warning signal -so-called aposematism- that communicates to potential predators that they taste bad because they have defensive chemicals in their bodies.
We all want to give our best thanks to this sage professor, who has again shared his wisdom with us. And now, we are ready to return to our tragic scene. Can the crushed Freakazoid ever be a superhero again? Will the Lobe find himself in an old-age home now? And fireflies, be careful. A bleak city is not the ideal habitat for you. Go back to forest, back to the wilderness! Be free! Do not come to breathe the smog of the dark metropolis!
Freakazoid sat on the cold pavement, hugging his knees. No words were there to describe his desolation, his agony. The world had been crushed upon him.
"H-h-h-hugbees… sniff… I'll never be anything…" he snuffled like a cloudburst. But behold, misery! When the distress is the most grievous, there is the comforter near. Stephanie, who had pursued the Lobe, sat beside her deplorable loved one.
"But Freak… it's not the end of the world. There will be another French Chef Competition next year!" She gently touched his hand.
"Butbutbut… snuff… whyyyyy? Why not now? Why no one even CARED to taste my brilliant cooking?"
"Well… everyone had a good reason. I'm on a slimming diet, your mother had to save the parrot, and evil mutant tulips invaded Italy. There are lot more important things on this planet to do than to be depressed about an experimental food, Freak hon. And you're meant to be a superhero. Not just anyone can jump into pajamas and save the galaxy, think about that."
Freakazoid took a sad glance at her. "But… there are better superheroes than me. Who needs me any more if I can't even cook? I would have stood it better if you all had just honestly admitted that I'm a bad cook. But only reasons, secret excuses, WAAAHAAAA!"
"I'm sorry, Freak." The girl took his hand into her own and squeezed it. "But at least they were good excuses. Maybe you can't cook, but as a superhero, no one beats you."
And so, the voice of reason had spoken again. Even this crushed blue man could not find scorn in those honest words of this caring girl. It was true, that no one could beat Freakazoid as a superhero. Not Spiderman, not Batman, not even Minnie Mouse. They were all unique in kind, and so was Freakazoid. In the sands of time, many deeds were done, many courageous feats of valor were written in history. Who could ever save a flock of kids from Candle Jack? Who could ever bring clown zombies back to normal people again? Who could ever eat more pumpkin pies off the reel? Who could ever catch more mosquitoes at one blow? If not Freakazoid, then who?
"You're right, Steph!" Suddenly the spirit was blown back to Dexter Douglas. "What was I thinking? Of course I need to be a superhero! The world will fall into chaos if I won't fight evil!" A delightful smile brightened up his face, now.
"That's the Freakazoid we know!" both the Lobe and Stephanie happily yelped in unison.
"Ahh, so good that you are back in job, Freakazoid. Now, I'm going to put up my traps around my newest evil scheme and the newest evil invention, The Windmill. Will you be there in time?" the enemy rubbed complacent his fingers together.
"Sure! At four o'clock?"
"Oo, that is brilliant. Just an appropriate time. I can have my lunch before that. And as I'm so pleased to hear the news of your comeback, I will double the traps and dangers. Just for you, Freakazoid." And so, the malicious walking brain left the alley, returning to his own businesses.
And the red underwear man himself… he had gotten his ego back. And thankful as he was to his warm-hearted girlfriend, he…
The following scene will be cut away because it is considered to be way too gooey and mushy. We will not detailedly describe how our brave Freakazoid takes Steph in his tight embrace and gives her a long kiss. Instead, we will listen to the beautiful singing of the rare winged tuftbeakpigeon that lives in the Amazonian rainforests. It gives us now its morning concerto. Let the harmonious melodies of this sweet creature fill our ears, and free our minds.
"Triuut kruiik blirp blirp blurrp kruiik kraa kraa tirruiit tweet chirruiip blrrp tivitviit grumps poks tuut bliribliibityytityrii!"
Now, wasn't that serene symphony wonderful to hear? It is furthermore time to get back to Freakazoid.
"I'll do it! I'll be a hero again! I'll stop the Lobe and mess up his newest evil scheme and save the universe! It is my duty to defend the small, the weak, the orphan, the widow, and the winged tuftbeakpigeon. And I'll prove everyone that I am a hero! Despite that no one will taste my cooking." The blue humanoid jumped now up, and banged his chest with a determined fist.
"Oh, Freak!" Steph swooned in admiration.
And…
On the other side of the globe, in Spain, was the horrible, abominable, evil and sinister Lobe waiting for Freakazoid with his newest evil scheme. The traps were ready, and the superconductive windmill had started to suck in all the electricity the world produced!
BANG!
The White House has gone off power. Did they not pay their electricity bill, or is this because of the Lobe?
BANG!
The beautiful lights of the Eiffel Tower have died. Is there a whole bunch of people who have not remembered to pay their electricity bills?
BANG!
"Wer Schtupid haz forghotten zu bezahlen die Electricity Bill?" an anonymous shopkeeper in German shouted out loud.
The Lobe invasion has started! Freakazoid, the Earth needs your help! Freedom for the fireflies! And will you be kind and give Cosgrove a cup of coffee and a sandwich?
TO BE CONTINUED…