"Jesus God almighty, look at that bunch over there man!" Duke exclaimed as he burst onto the scene.
"It is odd, though," Duke postulated in a moment of clarity, "that Deja Voodoo has only screwed with episodes that would be very unlikely to interest me. I begin to think that when people such as LE and Deja Voodoo (who cares if they're the same person?) aggressively cut off certain threads, they oddly do so in a way that doesn't affect me, ever. It would be nice if they extended everyone the courtesy from which I have benefited." And then, he held aloft his hand, revealing to all Narya, the Remote Control of Fire, secretly given to him by Cirdan in episode 2. "I hereby restore the lost threads," he said.
Suddenly, there was a strange discontinuity and then... Raoul Duke, F-Cup Fiztgerald, Dr. Hook and a strangely incorporeal Deja Voodoo stepped through into the SAME world. . . Which, in this case, was Raoul's. . . . Focus, if you will, on a small mountain pond, about 12 feet deep, in front of a wooden building with neon signs in the windows. Then focus your attention on the screams: those are the screams of men falling through the air. And suddenly, from the top of the "shot" fall three characters, who land in the frigid lake with a loud SPLASH! The characters flounder the few yards through the frigid water and collapse on the shore of the lake, just behind the wooden building. They are all breathing heavily. "Wh-where the hell ARE we?" asks Dr. Hook. "Goddammit!" shouted Raoul Duke. "We're back at my place! This is the Woody Creek Tavern, in Woody Creek, Colorado!" The three men dragged themselves inside, into the relative warmth. They pass a pool table and a dart board and clump up the back stairs. In a corner of an upstairs room is a card table with an old Underwood typewriter on it. Next to that is a computer with an active Internet connection.
A voice called from downstairs, and the three men and one strange non-corporeal billboard-shaped form, looked over the railing. Downstairs is a large man, about three hundred pounds, with frizzy black hair and mustache, maybe Hispanic, maybe Samoan. "What's all that yelling?" the man shouts, waving a bottle of Heineken. "Nothing, Box. We've been away, but now we're back." This was Raoul's voice. "Gentlemen, this is Oscar Acosta, also known as The Box the Game Came In. Box, this is Dr. Hook and F-Cup Fitzgerald!"
Hook, a tall, lumpy-looking blond-haired gentleman, wearing a white lab coat with "St. Kitts and Nevis" on the pocket, waved hello at TBTGCI. Fitzgerald, tall and reasonably well-built, with brown hair, in a rumpled black three-piece suit, also waved.
"What the fuck are you carrying that staff for, Duke?" he demanded, staring intensely at him with dilated pupils.
"You're just hallucinating, man. It'll pass."
"It's really fucking there, man. And what's with the pointy blue hat?"
"You have gone completely sideways, man. I'm not wearing a... Oh shit!"
"It's because of the attempt to meld the Lord of the Rings with Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas, with an incredibly cheesy story about a world-controlling TV remote," Dr. Hook interjected. "I mean, just look at the fucked up gem-encrusted mahogeny remote control!"
The Box appeared satisfied with the explanation.
Duke took his place in front of the computer keyboard. He stuffed a plastic Dr. Grabow pipe full of bad hash and lit it. "Okay, you arrogant bastard, let's see how you like THIS. . . ." And then he began writing an episode which sent Uncle Sid to his horrible fate. . . .
Sat Feb 24 03:45:41 2001