A Is For Aftermath

Just a word before we get things started today, for those of you who are new to my blogs, this is part of an ongoing series (I've figured out a way to take this even further down the rabbit hole, so to speak). It might be a bit confusing if you're coming in late (more so then usual). Anyway, click on one of the tags below (I recommend the Sesame Street one) for the beginning of the epic Muppet murder of Elmo story. Yes, the little red menace is dead. And no, he's not coming back. So there.

Hero Mountie Receives Gratitude, Kicks Entertainment Reporter


Two days after the dramatic events that nearly brought about the death of beloved Muppet Grover, the aftermath of those events continue to reverberate across the world. At the United Nations, blame was cast by numerous delegates over the issue of how they could have let themselves believe the bluff of notorious Muppet supervillain Mr. Johnson. The Secretary General looked suitably downcast as he spoke to reporters at UN headquarters in New York. "We had to act on the threat, to treat it as credible. There was no way we could have known that Johnson had no such weapons of mass destruction that could have destroyed the world. It's unfortunate, now that we know he didn't, that we ended up with egg on our face."

Police across the continent continue the slow, arduous process of digging through Johnsons' past, following the proverbial paper trail. In Canada, where for the last few weeks, Johnson hid in a bunker, the federal government is under siege. The ruling party owned the bunker in the Alberta foothills, and are being accused of aiding and abetting the supervillain. Acting Prime Minister John Baird sneered at the reporters who confronted him on his way into Parliament. "Look, you miserable jackasses, leave me the hell alone or I'll pass the Denial of Press Freedoms Act and have you all thrown into prison for daring to suggest this government doesn't have the best interests of our country at heart. The government has enough to do, what with denying these accusations and trying to shrink down the Prime Minister from his current gigantic size, not to mention our top secret plans to install ourselves as Government For Life... wait... forget I said that last one."

At the well known Sesame Street, Grover has been back among friends, accompanied by his human girlfriend Karla. Longtime bickering couple Bert and Ernie were pleased to see him. "We really admired Grover for offering to sacrifice his life for the planet. It was really noble, wasn't it, Bert?"

"You bet, Ernie. It's something I don't think I could have done in his place."

Miss Piggy was accompanied by her fiance Kermit the Frog, the daring Muppet attorney who successfully defended Grover on murder charges. "You know, Grover showed a lot of courage in what he did. He obviously takes after my Kermie, doesn't he, spanky buns?"

"Yes, indeed, like you say," Kermit remarked with pride. "We're all really proud of Grover."

Professor Honeydew, on the other hand, seemed conflicted. This reporter cornered the scientist Muppet and his assistant Beaker. "You know, while it's great that Grover was saved, but it deprived me of the chance to see what happens when a Muppet gets drawn and quartered. As a scientist, I was really curious to see that."

"Meep! Meep meep meep!"

The Count, on the other hand, was busy counting all of the people who had come to welcome Grover home. "Ten thousand three hundred and four, ah ah ah ah. Ten thousand three hundred and five, ah ah ah ah..."

As for Grover himself? He travelled to Alberta after the reunion, to speak with the Mountie who saved his life by killing Johnson. Inspector Lars Ulrich, the legendary lawman who had once arrested Grover for the murder of Muppet Elmo, a crime that had in fact been orchestrated by Johnson, was known for not being on very good terms with the Muppet. The two met in front of a group of reporters outside the RCMP detachment in High River. "Inspector, sir, I must thank you so very much," Grover told Ulrich, who looked annoyed. The two shook hands as photographers snapped pictures. "You have saved my life, sir! You did a very good thing, sir! It is a debt that truly, I can never, ever repay, sir!"

"Yes, well... that's my job," Ulrich said, seeming uncomfortable.

The press spoke up, almost as one, asking questions. One, a correspondant with Access Hollywood, seemed to be louder then the rest. "Lars! Lars! Now that it's all over, after this incredible manhunt, are you going to get back with Metallica and record another album?"

Ulrich rolled his eyes, shook his head, and looked really, really annoyed. "Look, you idiot, I'm not that Lars Ulrich..."

Grover nodded. "You heard the Inspector, sir! He is not a member of Metallica, sir..."

The correspondant looked confused. It's a common trait with entertainment reporters. "Does that mean you've had a falling out with the rest of the band, Lars?"

When last seen, the entertainment reporter was being chased by Ulrich into Dead Man's Canyon.

F Is For Final Confrontation, Part Three

New York City; Central Park. The crowd looks on as the warden finishes securing each limb Grover has with the straps. Now it's merely a matter of the warden giving his word, and the drawing and quartering will begin. The men with the horses stand by to hear the warden's word; Gonzo sits astride his motorbike, revving the engine, sobbing in tears at how his good friend must die, and how he must take part in it. Kermit has returned to Miss Piggy's side, and they're both in tears. Big Bird, Oscar, Cookie Monster, Bob, Maria, Susan, and Bert and Ernie sob quietly. The Count, being a vampire, is incapable of tears, so he's counting Oscar's tears. Waldorf and Statler are bawling. Scooter, Fozzie, and Animal look downcast. Doctor Honeydew is making some last second calculations on the precise order that Grover's body parts will fall in. Beaker looks, as usual, like he's strung out on speed.

The warden steps away from Grover, back to the side of the platform. He looks grave and saddened by his duty, and raises his hand, ready to give the signal. A voice calls out, "Stop!!" Everyone falls silent, and a state official comes through the crowd, breathless. "We've just gotten word. It's over. It's all over. The threat is over. Mr. Johnson is dead!!" The crowd cheers and roars in approval.

The horses are startled by the sound and start fussing. Their fussing pulls at the straps securing Grover, who yells out. The men calm down the horses. And the warden rushes over to Grover, untying the straps. Grover's girlfriend rushes through the crowd, reaching the Muppet. She grabs him and kisses him repeatedly. He groans. "Oh, pookie, that was too close. I thought I was bound for heaven. I could see Jim Henson right in front of me," he tells her.

Kermit comes forward out of the crowd. "What happened?" he asks the state official, while Grover and his girlfriend make out.

"We've got word from the Mounties. Inspector Ulrich tracked Johnson to his lair and shot him in self defense," the official remarks.

A reporter with Entertainment Tonight calls from the crowd. "Will Lars be going back to rehearsals with Metallica now?"

Waldorf shakes his head in disgust. "I haven't heard a question that moronic since McCarthy asked if I knew any communists."

Statler nods. "Yes, well, I'm the one who ratted on you."

Waldorf looks shocked. "That was you????"

Statler nods again. "You seduced Rosalind Russell when you knew full well that I had a thing for her, remember? I was pissed at you, so I took revenge by ratting you out to the Communist witch hunt."

In the crowd, Doctor Honeydew looks up from his calculations. "Haven't they started the execution yet?" he asks Beaker, absent-minded as usual.

Beaker looks at him. "Meep meep!"

"But I have to see the effects of a drawing and quartering done in real-time. Beaker old boy, I wonder if you'd volunteer yourself to be drawn and quartered..."

"Meep!!! Meep!!! Meep!!!!!!!!!!"

Alberta; the secret bunker of the late Mr. Johnson. Inspector Lars Ulrich oversees his officers working the crime scene. Coroners are on the way, though he's not sure if he should have called them or a prop master to dispose of the remains of the villain. Constable Borden comes over. "Inspector, we're uncovering evidence of his political ties. He kept recordings. Looks like the bastard was indeed in contact with the government."

"Thank you, Evangeline. We'll deal with that later on. For now... he's dead."

She looks at the body of the dead Muppet. "All that trouble he caused..."

Ulrich nods. "Yes, well, it's over now."

"That's a good thing you did, sir. Calling it in, getting word out in time to save Grover," she remarks.

He shrugs. "For a second or two, I did consider letting him die. He really is annoying, you know."

Borden smiles. "Don't tell that to my four year old niece. She'd never forgive you. She loves Grover." She pauses. "I've heard from the detachment. The press is gathering there. They're asking a lot of questions. They want to see the hero of the hour. Including the... entertainment reporters."

Ulrich rolls his eyes. "Let me guess. Lars! Now that you've killed a Muppet, isn't it time to get back to going out on tour? Are they born that stupid?"

"Apparently so, sir."

"Idiots. Well, I get first pick on which of them I get to kick in the ass and put in the hospital."

F Is For Final Confrontation Part Two

New York City; Central Park. As the crowd looks on, many of them weeping softly, the warden leads Grover to the center of the platform. Kermit follows, and Grover turns. Kermit sighs (he does that a lot) and extends a hand. Grover shakes it. "You're the bravest Muppet I've ever met," Kermit remarks.

"I can die happy right now," Grover proclaims. "I had some mind-bending sex last night. I must say, pre-execution sex really does beat out conjugal visit sex on the toe-curling ratio, Kermit. That's the memory I will take to my grave as this drawing and quartering rips me from limb to limb to limb."

Among the crowd, Bert and Ernie cry in each other's arms. Big Bird blows his nose, comforted by human stalwarts Bob, Susan, and Maria.  Oscar is annoyed by Cookie Monster, who's scarfing down bags of peanut butter cookies and getting the crumbs all over him. The Count spends his time counting the people in the crowd. Doctor Honeydew is doing some quick calculations, watched by Beaker. Scooter, Animal, and Fozzie are joined by Miss Piggy, who's pushing them out of the way so that she can have all the room she wants. And Statler and Waldorf are talking.

"I haven't been to an execution this maudlin since Carrot Top was killed," Statler remarks, wiping away tears.

"Carrot Top was killed?" Waldorf asks.

"Yes, for crimes against humanity," Statler replies.

"I thought he was just an unfunny comedian," Waldorf says.

"Not just," Statler tells his colleague. "He's the guy who got Firefly cancelled."

"That son of a bitch!!" Waldorf bellows.

Grover lies down on the platform. The warden begins to tie the straps. In the crowd, Grover's girlfriend sobs loudly. Doctor Honeydew turns and looks at Beaker. "You know, Beaker, if my calculations are correct, pieces of Grover's inner stuffing will hit everyone in the first three rows on all four sides of the platform. What do you think about that?"

"Meep!"

Alberta; The secret bunker. Mr. Johnson stands face to face with Inspector Lars Ulrich, who keeps his gun aimed at the deranged Muppet. "I thought I had an arrangement with the federal government," Johnson mutters with a sneer (villains like to sneer). "They do a fellow evil-doer a favour by throwing entertainment reporters at you to keep you occupied. Damn that Baird, you can't trust a politician to get anything right these days..."

"I'd thought you had help," Ulrich mutters. "Help from the top won't help you now, Johnson. You're going to prison for the murder of Elmo. There's no more demands, no more escape. You're done."

"Wait a minute," Johnson says. "How the hell did you find me?"

"I went back and looked at your file," Ulrich answers. "You like turnips and artichokes on your pizza. I checked with every pizza delivery shop in the Western provinces. Only one place had been taking regular orders for pizza like that. Lo and behold, here it leads me to this compound. Piece of advice? If you're a fugitive from justice, you should avoid giving into your usual habits and appetites. This place couldn't be yours."

"No, it's on loan from the federal Tories. Like I said, they've been doing me a favour helping me hide out."

"I'm sure that'll cost them at the polls. Now, hands up, Johnson. You're under arrest," Ulrich tells the Muppet.

Johnson shakes his head. "I still have the destroy the world gambit in my hands, Inspector."

"No you don't," Ulrich counters. "I've been all over this place since I got inside, and there's no trace of any doomsday device or even a control for a doomsday device. All this time, you were bluffing." 

"Well, okay, so I was bluffing... it still got me what I want. Grover's about to die, and there's nothing you can do to stop it. Not that you really want to. Face it, Inspector, you want to see Grover die just as much as I do, don't you?" Johnson smiles. He reaches behind his back, grabbing at a gun tucked away in his waistband, screaming, "Die, you son of a..."

As he raises his arm to fire, Ulrich opens fire on the evil Muppet. Johnson is hit several times in the chest. He gasps, and staggers back. Ulrich fires again. The bullets tear through Johnsons' head. Pieces of stuffing hit the control room consoles. Johnson collapses in a heap of stuffing to the floor of the control room. Ulrich steps forward, kicking away Johnsons' gun, verifying that the Muppet is dead. "Give my regards to Hell, you bloody miserable bastard," Ulrich tells the corpse. He looks up at the television screen. Grover is being secured by the warden at the execution site. Ulrich hears Johnson's words in his mind: you want to see Grover die just as much as I do, don't you? He stares at the screen, and wonders, Well, do I?

To Be Concluded.....

Anderson Cooper will do anything for a photo-op

F Is For Final Confrontation, Part One

The Count teaches the annoying glittery vampire what real vampires are capable of

Sesame Gothic

New York City; Central Park. A large wooden platform has been erected in the park, with three horses set at three of the corners. Each is harnessed, the long lines feeding back towards the center of the platform. Each horse is kept under control by a man. All around, a large crowd is gathering. The mood is somber and subdued. Among the crowd, longtime couple Bert and Ernie are both in tears, rather then the usual bickering they do, accompanied by Sesame Street humans Bob, Maria, and Susan.  Big Bird, Oscar the Grouch, and Cookie Monster are seated behind them. Nearby, Beaker, Doctor Honeydew, Animal, Fozzie, and Scooter are watching the Count, who's counting the horses over and over again. Long time old Muppets (and hecklers by habit) Statler and Waldorf are seated in box seats, heckling the horses. And Gonzo sits on his motorbike at the last corner of the platform, a chain behind him leading to the center of the platform. A stir rises in the crowd. Grover the Muppet walks through, accompanied by his girlfriend, who's in tears. Behind them, Kermit and Miss Piggy walk hand in hand. The world press is assembled, broadcasting live. Grover walks up to the platform, where a microphone has been set up. A prison warden stands beside it.

"Hello," Grover greets the crowd. There are many tears. "Oh, do not be sorrowful! For I am going to a better place, sir! You see, the way I see this, I am giving up my life so that the world will live. That, sir, is a very noble thing to do, sir! I am a Muppet ready to die for his planet, sir! It is the only honourable thing to do." There are more tears. Even Statler and Waldorf, usually given to heckles and jeers, are reduced to sobs. "I do not understand why Fred Johnson has such disdain for me. I do not believe I will ever understand his reasons, sir. But he has done many terrible things, and he threatens the future of this world. So, I will freely give my life."

The warden steps forward. "Bless you, Grover. You're a very brave Muppet. Now, I should explain to you exactly what's going to happen here, in very explicit detail. You're going to lie down right over there in the center of the platform. We'll strap you in, one strap to each limb. On my signal, the horsemen will set their horses to pulling, and Gonzo there will start driving his motorbike, the chain of which will be attached to your right leg. The straps and chain will start pulling at your body. You will begin to feel at this point an intense pain in your body. It will only get worse. The forces of horse and motorbike will continue to pull at your body in four directions. And there will come a point when your body gives way, and is torn to pieces. Blood and Muppet stuffing will fly everywhere. I can only imagine how excrutiatingly painful it will be. I've never actually executed anyone this way, so we had to consult a manual."

Gonzo weeps. "I'm sorry, Grover. You shouldn't have to do this. But if anyone should take part in your execution, it ought to be a friend, don't you think?"

Kermit steps forward to speak one last time on behalf of his client, the Muppet whose life he saved in court. "Isn't this a bit of overkill? Wouldn't this be a bit more merciful if it was just a firing squad?"

The warden sadly shakes his head. "Johnsons' demands were very specific. Grover has to be drawn and quartered."

There are more tears, particularly from Grovers' girlfriend. In the crowd, a distinct series of words is heard: "Meep! Meep meep! Meep! Meep!"

******

Far to the west and north, across the Canadian border in Alberta, a lone Muppet sits in his secret bunker (on loan from the current federal government, who of course shares his evil streak). Mr. Johnson has the television on in the control room, and he's sitting at a desk, rubbing his hands with glee. The broadcast from New York is going out live. He watches, cackling with laughter. "I've got you now, you bastard! No more of your annoying voice and your irritating politeness and your aggravating quirks! You're going to die, Grover! You're going to die, and I get to watch it! Hah hah hah hah hah!!! Everything I've ever wanted, and it's about to happen! Well, not quite everything. I wonder what's taking that pizza delivery guy? I swear, if I miss the execution live, I'll take it out of his hide."

"No, you won't." The voice startles the Muppet supervillain. He bolts out of his chair, turning, and sees someone in the shadow of a corridor leading out from the control room.  The man's face is hidden in the darkness, though Johnson can see from his lower legs that he's wearing the Mountie working uniform. "You're going to prison for the rest of your life." The man steps into the light, holding a gun. It's Inspector Lars Ulrich.

Johnson glares at him. "Oh, come on!!!  Can't you wait five minutes?"

To Be Continued....

Meep! Meep!! Meep meep meep!!

S Is For Sacrifice

Just a note before getting started, to any of you who happen to be new to these blogs... this is part of a larger work, so you might want to go back to the beginning. Click on Sesame Street among the tags. It'll take you back to the beginning of all this. Oh, and the idea for the murder of the Little Red Menace? It was my brother's idea.

Startling Developments In World Crisis; Hunt Continues For Muppet Supervillain

The continuing global crisis surrounding the threat made by Muppet ultra-criminal Mr. Johnson, aka Fat Blue, has reached a strange turn of events. With two days remaining before his deadline and threat to destroy the world, his arch-enemy Grover emerged from hiding to make a formal statement to the press.

Johnson, the long suffering Muppet who was frequently paired with Grover in Sesame Street skits, was convicted of the murder of overexposed Muppet Elmo. His plane crashed across the border in Alberta, Canada some weeks ago, and he has been the subject of an ongoing hunt led by legendary Mountie Lars Ulrich ever since.

The world at large was shocked by a manifesto from Johnson, demanding Grover be killed, or he would bring about the destruction of the world through the use of death cannons. How a Muppet could get his hands on death cannons has yet to be explained.

Grover, who with his girlfriend has been in protective custody, returned to Sesame Street, reuniting briefly with his attorney, Kermit the Frog, who bravely fought in a court of law to exonerate Grover of the murder Johnson had set him up for. Longtime couple Bert and Ernie said their hellos to Grover, as did Oscar the Grouch, the Count, and Big Bird.

 Cookie Monster, however, was absent from the proceedings, as he and actor Jeff Bridges are busy developing a sequel to The Big Lebowski with the Coen Brothers, turning it into a buddy film featuring the Dude and the Cookie Monster.

"I have decided that I must give myself up," Grover told the assembled reporters as his long time friends looked on. "I cannot allow the world to suffer because Mr. Johnson hates me, sir." Nearby, his human girlfriend Karla wept softly while the blue Muppet went on. "So I will surrender my life. I will give my life to save the world, sir. It is the right thing to do."

The self sacrificing, noble gesture touched even the most jaded reporter. One Reuters correspondant asked, "Are you certain of this, Grover? How can anyone even be certain that Johnson is capable of destroying the world?"

"That is a risk I cannot take, sir," Grover solemnly declared. "To quote another great man who gave his life for a great cause, I regret that I have but one life to give for my country. Or my planet. If I must die, sir, then it is for the right cause, sir. And so tomorrow I shall surrender myself at six in the evening, sir, to be executed in accordance with the demands of Mr. Johnson. For tonight, I will have one last night with my beloved." And so, with that, the brave Muppet headed off with his girlfriend for a night of hot, passionate Muppet-on-woman lovin'.

In a semi-related story, actor Mike Myers was found wandering through the streets of Calgary this morning, his head shaved, wearing a costume that looked like his Doctor Evil attire from the Austin Powers movies, babbling on and on about an evil Muppet. He is currently in hospital, being assessed. His agent denied any rumor that the Muppets are being worked into the next film in the franchise, Austin Powers: Groovier Then Ever, Baby, Yeah!

In the Alberta foothills, the hunt for Johnson continues. Inspector Ulrich, heading up the manhunt, was approached by reporters cautiously for his comment. He is, after all, known for his deep dislike of entertainment reporters. The Inspector sighed before responding. "You know, becoming a martyr isn't the answer. I for one don't believe this Johnson has the capability of destroying the planet. He's out there somewhere, and I'm doing my best to find him."

Before reporters could press further, there was an additional arrival on the scene. Mary Hart, the former anchor of Entertainment Tonight, turned up at the detachment by limo, smiling and waving as she stepped out. She walked through the crowd of actual reporters with a camera crew, gushing and smiling yet again, until she stopped right in front of the Inspector. "Hi, Lars, I'm Mary Hart," she said in that typical far too bubbly way of hers.

"Yes, I unfortunately know who you are," the Inspector replied, seeming to grind his teeth. The Inspector has, of course, decked previous entertainment reporters, throttled them, or thrown them out of moving cars, though he doesn't seem the sort to do so to a woman.

"Lars, as you might know, I've recently retired as host of Entertainment Tonight after many years being at the top of the game, and being ever so famous. I mean, everyone in the world knows who I am. It can be really hard at times being famous, don't you think? Even more so when you're like me, the center of the universe and all. I mean, all that demand on time, all those members of our personal entourage hanging on our every word, all of those little people out there depending on us. It can be really trying. You know, it surprises me that in all the years you and Metallica have been out on the road, you never once came to give us an exclusive interview. I'm sure we could have fit you in between our constant updates on Tom Cruise, our endless justifications of Jennifer Aniston being America's Sweetheart, and our ongoing coverage of the Sandra Bullock and Paula Abdul blood feud. Oh, wait, we haven't managed to trigger that yet. Forget I said that. I suppose what I'm saying, Lars, is that it's a shame you guys haven't sat down to talk to one of our world famous journalists."

Ulrich stared at Hart. The silence went on. And on. And on some more. Finally he spoke, in a quiet, menacing tone. "First of all, Ms. Hart... just because you interview famous people does not make you famous."

"Don't be silly!" Hart said, oblivious. "Of course it does! And now that I'm retired and in the midst of my World Adulation Tour, I'm going to write my memoirs. I'm thinking of calling it Mary: Hart Of The Universe. Isn't that catchy?"

"Don't interrupt me," the Inspector insisted, his voice rising in irritation. "Second, for the last time... I'm not that Lars Ulrich! Do I really look like a metal musician?"

"Wait... you're saying you're not with Metallica?" For a moment,  the reporters wondered if an actual thought was going through her head. "Does that mean you've broken up the band?" So much for that possibility.

Ulrich sneered. "And third... I make it a personal policy not to hit women. So instead I'll have Constable Borden do it for me. Evangeline!"

Another Mountie came out of the detachment. She was dressed in the usual red serge uniform of the force, and she seemed to this reporter to be the sort who enjoyed physical violence. "Yes, Inspector?" she replied, sizing up the retired entertainment correspondant.

"Kick her ass," the Inspector ordered.

When last seen, Mary Hart was running for her life around a bend on a trail, a determined female Mountie at her heels. The Inspector seemed satisfied. And the world waited, breathless, as the demand of a supervillain seemed to be coming ever closer to being met....

For The Last Time! I'm Not That Lars Ulrich!

This is the last of my character without a book blogs, featuring the fearless and legendary Mountie inspector Lars Ulrich, the most relentless hunter of the Great White North, scourge of entertainment reporters, and not at all the other Lars Ulrich. Don't ask him if he's in Metallica.

Yes, I know he's played a Mountie before, but Paul Gross could certainly play a different, crankier one...

****

I hate those bloody damned reporters.

If I had my way, I'd have them all arrested. Absolute scum, the lot of them. Why they keep following me around is beyond me. I've got enough to do. I'm hunting a ruthless killer, a Muppet named Mr. Johnson, lost somewhere in the Alberta foothills. Not only is he a ruthless killer, he's also a supervillain. He's threatened to destroy the world if Grover the Muppet isn't killed. His deadline's a few days away.

You know, it seems like it's been a lot longer since he made the demand then a few days. I wonder why that is.

Anyway. Reporters. Like I said, absolute scum. Oh, sure, some of them are legitimate, actually doing serious work. Most of them though are worthless lower life forms. Instead of homo sapiens, they come join whatever media outlet will give them a job, and they devolve into homo journalistus irritatingus. If Darwin had to put up with them, he'd agree with me.

Reporting on a beauty pageant isn't actual journalism. Reporting on video footage of a funny dog isn't actual journalism. Reporting on a bake sale isn't serious journalism. And the worst of the lot? Entertainment reporters. They keep following me around, just because I've got the same name as some heavy metal musician. They keep asking me inane pointless questions about why I'm not with the band, or what I think about some halfwit celebutante actress or an actor who's losing his mind.

I tried to be polite at first. It's the Mountie way of things. We're polite. That, and the whole We Always Get Our Man line. Still, how many times can a man be polite? I kept telling those knuckle dragging morons that I'm not that Lars Ulrich. Did they listen? No! It was always yet another Lars! Did Metallica break up? Or Lars! What about the rumors that Ozzy Osbourne, Meat Loaf, and Rihanna are going to tour with you? And then there's Lars! Are you attending the Grammys this year?

Like I said, morons. So I did what any man would do. I started kicking a few of those entertainment journalists around. Busting heads, breaking ribs, throwing them into ravines. To their credit, the serious journalists never actually filed a complaint. Maybe they're scared of me, maybe they consider those yahoos a blight on their profession.

Yet for some reason, more of them turned up. Entertainment Tonight. Access Hollywood. TMZ. And let's not forget that new one... Hollywood Kisses Its Own Butt. And always with the inane questions, mistaking me for some over the hill metal musician with hearing problems.

It's a shame. You know, William Tecumseh Sherman hated reporters too. He once said he'd kill all of them, but for the fact that there'd be news from Hell before breakfast. He was right. I think the general and I would get along pretty well with each other. He understood that reporters were scum too.

I don't know how much more of them I can take. I've got serious business to take care of. There's a convicted fugitive still out there. Fred Johnson might be a Muppet, but he's a very dangerous killer. He murdered that little Muppet Elmo. Sure, some people might figure the little red menace had it coming, and I might agree, but Elmo was still a murder victim. And he framed Grover for it. While I can appreciate his dislike for Grover... I mean, that whole speaking without contractions thing he does is just enough to drive me up the wall, and I honestly believed he was a murderer too, framing someone for murder just isn't right.

Johnson's a killer, and a villain. He's threatening the world. I can't imagine how a Muppet could destroy the world, but I can't afford to throw caution to the wind. He's out there somewhere, and I've got to find him. I just can't shake this strange suspicion I've got that someone's throwing obstacles in my way... someone higher up the chain of command from me. Maybe someone in the government. Well, I'll find out soon enough.

There's work to be done. There's a Muppet killer to be hunted down. And we Mounties always get our man. Or in this case, our Muppet. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to get to it. Besides, I see a nitwit with Entertainment Tonight just walking into the detachment.

I think I'll drop him off Mount Widowmaker.

E Is For Evil

A bunker, somewhere in the Alberta foothills. A large conference room serves as headquarters for a meeting this night. A group of people have gathered around a round table. Dick Cheney, Ann Coulter, Michael Moore, and Ralph Nader are chatting amicably, which is a surprise, considering the latter of the foursome have publicly condemned the first two. John Baird, currently the acting Prime Minister of Canada, walks in, greeting them, shaking hands. The actress Jennifer Aniston sits at the table, absently staring at an old photograph of herself and Brad Pitt. The actor Mike Myers sits across from her, wearing a light grey Nehru suit, his hair shaved off. He appears to be confused and baffled. Another man stands nearby. It's the self-styled man who thinks he knows everything, Keith Jarrett. A door opens, and in walks the fugitive muppet supervillain Mr. Johnson, aka Fat Blue. He finds his way over to a chair, and sits down.

Mr. Johnson: Hello, everyone, welcome to the first meeting of the League of Really Evil, Evil People. If we could all find seats, we can get things started.

The rest of the group take seats around the table. Myers continues to look around, confused. Mr. Johnson picks up a remote control.


Mr. Johnson: First of all, we're being joined tonight by video link with an old friend.

He presses a button. A giant view screen on a nearby wall comes on, and shortly thereafter, Libyan dictator Moammar Gadhafi appears on the screen from his Presidential Palace. In the background, there's the sound of an explosion.


Mr. Johnson: Moammar, glad you could join us.

Gadhafi: My pleasure, Fred. If I have to depart quickly, it's just because those infernal peasants are trying to overthrow me for some inexplicable reason. Really, am I not their Beloved Tyrant?

Baird: Why don't you try doing what we do, Moammar? Lie, deflect, and cast the blame on your political opponents?

Mr. Johnson: If we could come to order? I'd like to thank John for deflecting the continued RCMP searches for me. That rotten Mountie Lars Ulrich hasn't gotten hold of me yet, and I've got to hand it to you to keep him occupied.

Baird: Easily done, Fred, and anything for an old friend. All it takes is throwing entertainment journalists at him.

Mr. Johnson: I'd also like to thank you for lending us the use of this bunker for the meeting.

Baird: No problem at all, Fred. Next month the Conservative Party will be using it in Operation Subvert Canadian Democracy.


Cheney: Yes, very commendable, very commendable indeed.

Moore: Hah! That'll teach those citizens of yours to shut up!

Nader: Very nicely done. We need to try that south of the border.

Cheney: We came oh so close, Ralph, really, but it didn't quite take.

Coulter: We'll succeed in two years. It's just a matter of time before those godless liberals and anyone else who disagrees with us gets what's coming to them.

Moore: Yes! Yes!! Damned liberals! Burn them all!

Mr. Johnson: I still find it surprising to hear you say that. Your public face is so... left wing. So are your film documentaries.

Moore: I know. Perfect way to disguise my true political leanings, isn't it?

Aniston: Why doesn't Brad love me?

Moore: It's a Trojan horse doublebluff.

Aniston: I'm America's sweetheart, right?

Mr. Johnson: So, how have we been in keeping with doing evil lately?

Cheney: I invited a bunch of ACLU lawyers to my ranch last week. Then I let nature take its course and started hunting them.

Nader: I announced my intention to consider running for President in 2012. The Democrats are up in arms.

Moore: I stole candy from a whole lot of babies.

Coulter: I tortured a few godless liberals.

Baird: I had an orphanage blown up.

Myers: Um, excuse me, can I just say something?

Mr. Johnson: Certainly. We're all equals here in the League of Really Evil, Evil People.

Myers: Yes, well, that's what I meant to bring up. See, I'm not actually evil.

Jarrett: Oh, that's hilarious, Doctor Evil. You, of all people, claiming you're not evil.

Myers: No, see, Doctor Evil is a character I played. I'm an actor. This guy here had me kidnapped, had my head shaved, and dressed me up like this, but I'm actually Mike Myers. I don't think I really belong here. And aren't you that muppet who's threatened to destroy the world?

Mr. Johnson: Yes, and proud of it.

Jarrett: Doctor Evil's just having some fun, everyone.

Aniston: What does he see in that awful witch and all those kids?

Jarrett: He's just as committed to evil as anyone else here is, you know.

Myers: I keep telling you, Doctor Evil is just a character! I'm only an actor! And not a very good one!

Jarrett: Doctor Evil, why aren't you speaking with your Belgian accent? And you're supposed to put your hands up in a quotation hand signal every time you emphasize a word.

Myers: I'm not Doctor Evil, damn it! Now let me go! I have to get back to filming The Love Guru 2! Sure, the first film tanked, but this time we'll get it right!

Aniston: After all the dues I paid, all the popularity of that show, why can't I hold onto a man? Why is my womb so cobwebbed? Why doesn't Brad love me?

Mr. Johnson: I'm sorry, but I don't recognize you, sir.

Jarrett: I'm Keith Jarrett, Mr. Johnson. Author of the books I Know Everything, So Bask In My Eternal Wisdom, Duck And Cover The Buddhists Are Coming To Kill Us All, and my ill-timed How To Cure Ebola. Come one now! Everyone knows me!

Coulter: He does the occasional consulting gig for Fox News.

Nader: Didn't he write that book about knowing everything? Or was that Gore?

Cheney: Maybe both. Gore, that bastard. You know, I always wanted to take him hunting...

Moore: So he could meet with a... hunting accident, right?

Aniston: Is it my perky haircut? My whining voice?

Cheney: Exactly, Michael, an accident.

Baird: Dick, can I send a few journalists hunting with you?

Nader: Aren't you the fellow who infected that guy with Ebola virus?

Moore: Maybe we can infect Wolf Blitzer with the Ebola virus.

Jarrett: Look, that was a simple oversight. My lawyers are working on getting the charges dismissed. We all have those kind of moments. It happens. I assure you, Mr. Johnson, I'm more then qualified to be a member of the League of Really Evil, Evil People. I'm a world renowned expert on so many things, including the true nature of evil. In fact, in between writing my new work Gosh I'm So Smart, I've been thinking of writing a definitive biography on the most evil person in the twentieth century. I'm thinking of calling it Mother Teresa: Tyrannical Despot of India. What do you think? Catchy title, am I right?

Gadhafi: You do realize Mother Teresa is a saint?

Cheney: A real do-gooder. I hate do-gooders.

Coulter: You couldn't ask for a more righteous person.

Moore: One of the most selfless people to ever walk the earth.

Jarrett: Wait... so you're saying she's not irredeemably evil?

Nader: Certainly not, young man.

Baird: Back to the drawing board, huh?

Aniston: I'm so miserable and alone and lonely. And barren. Would one of you people mind killing Angelina Jolie for me? If she's out of the way, Brad's sure to come back to me! Yes, I'm sure of it!

An explosion rocks behind Gadhafi on the screen. He looks shaken.


Gadhafi: Damn! The rebels are closing in! John, can you put in a good word for me at the UN?

Baird: Sorry, Moammar. The UN doesn't like Canada anymore. Not since the Prime Minister told the General Assembly they could kiss his ass last year.

Mr. Johnson: Speaking of the UN, it's only a week now until my deadline. Grover must die, or I'll wreck a terrible vengeance on the world. Everything I have ever done, murdering that little red menace Elmo, framing Grover... all of it, has been meant to destroy my greatest nemesis. You know, it somehow seems like it's been much longer since I made the threat. Maybe time passes differently for a Muppet. At any rate, in a few days, Grover will surely be dead. No human will stick their neck out for him! Ha ha ha ha! Ha ha ha ha ha! How's my evil laugh coming along, by the way?

Coulter: Wonderful, Fred.

Baird: Just right, Fred.

Nader: Splendid.

Jarrett: Are we all certain Mother Teresa wasn't evil?

Mr. Johnson: Oh, will you just shut up already?

E Is For Eternal Torment

A note to new followers: you might want to click on Sesame Street down below. I've been at this a long while, and it's something of an ongoing story....

The seventh circle of Hell, a ghastly, desolate domain of the damned, one level up from the eighth circle of Hell, residence of lawyers and accountants. The deceased mutant Mammomax, formerly of the Brotherhood of Mutants, walks on his own through the corridors. He hears a sound behind him, and turns. Standing there, on the floor, is a small red muppet. It's Elmo, and the little red menace is staring up at him.

Elmo: Are you related to Mr. Snuffy?
Mammomax: Wait. Who's Mr. Snuffy?
Elmo: He's the wooly elephant who killed Elmo.
Mammomax: Sorry, I don't have any relatives named Mr. Snuffy.
Elmo: Oh. Elmo was wondering if you might be related to Mr. Snuffy.
Mammomax: I'm a mutant who looks like an elephant. Not an elephant.
Elmo: Elmo just saw those big ears and that trunk and Elmo just assumed.
Mammomax: Look, kid, don't just assume anything, and... who are you?
Elmo: Elmo has already told you who Elmo is. Elmo is Elmo.
Mammomax: Oh, terrific. You speak in the third person?
Elmo: Of course Elmo does that. Why doesn't everyone?
Mammomax: *sighing* I really am in Hell.
Elmo: Elmo doesn't know why Elmo is here.
Mammomax: Kid, my name is Mammomax.
Elmo: What kind of name is Mammomax?
Mammomax: It's the name I chose to use.
Elmo: Oh. Elmo thinks you made a mistake.
*A bald man comes down the corridor.*
Lex: Hello, Max. You made a new friend?
Mammomax: Lex Luthor, that kid's Elmo.
Lex: Elmo? The little red bastard muppet?
Elmo: Why do people call Elmo that name?
Lex: You must not have Sesame Street in your dimension, Max.
Mammomax: Oh, we do, just that I've never bothered watching it.
Lex: Consider yourself blessed. This infernal twit took it over in mine.
Elmo: That's mean! You're not a nice man, Lex Luthor. And you're bald.
Lex: A fact I've been told many, many times, and I'll thank you not to say it again.
Mammomax: Kid, he's a little touchy about the whole male pattern baldness thing.
Lex: I'd heard that Elmo Prime was down here in Hell. It must mean that every Elmo in every dimension vanished forever with his demise. Oh, what a glorious day that would have been. No more of that cackling laugh, no more taking away on screen time from more established characters. I would have loved to see that day, but here I am, stuck in Hell with no way to get out. Have I mentioned that I find that really annoying?
Mammomax: Lex, I didn't know you were that big a fan of a kid's show.
Lex: A very handy thing to watch in between planning world domination.
*A man in blue tights and a red cape comes towards the trio.*
Mammomax: Well, look here, Lex, it's your old nemesis.
Lex: Another pain in the neck. Elmo.... this is Superman.
Superman: Go **** yourself, Lex.
Elmo: That's a very naughty word.
Superman: Go **** yourself, kid.
Mammomax: Shocking, you think?
Elmo: Why did Superman say that?
Mammomax: He's apparently always had a foul mouth.
Superman: Damn right. Just like Ma and Pa raised me.
Mammomax: He was the greatest hero in his dimension.
Lex: And my arch foe, the man I hated above all others...
Superman: Awww, wah wah wah, poor ****ing Lex Luthor.
Elmo: But why does a hero spend all his time using no-no words?
Superman: Like I said, kid, I was raised that way. My Ma and Pa were the biggest ****ing dope growers in the Mid-West. They cursed all the ****ing time. They also grew some really premium weed, let me tell you. Real good to smoke that ****. Then one day, I'm minding my own business, and a gigantic elephant man comes through a dimensional wall and enters my world. One of those damned clones of yours, Max. One of those damned MegaMammomaxes. And what makes that even worse? That thing has Kryptonite coursing through his bloodstream! I ****ing died because of a giant elephant man! That's no way for a ****ing hero to ****ing die! No way at all!
Mammomax: Listen up, my clones are not my fault.
Lex: Wish I'd thought of giant elephant man clones.
Mammomax: That was a project by Mister Sinister.
Superman: What kind of ****ing name is Sinister?
Mammomax: All I am saying is I'm not responsible!
Superman: Oh, it doesn't matter anymore. I'm dead.
Lex: And he doesn't have any powers anymore either.
Superman: Damn you, I told you to go **** yourself!
Elmo: Elmo thinks that Superman is just as nasty and mean as Luthor.
Superman: Superman thinks that Elmo can.... damn! Now I'm doing it!