The Hurler

What follows began as a subject line in an e-mail and it then snowballed. It's very, very silly, so read at own peril!

The Hurler

The Hurler approaches the porcelain...

The Hurler approaches the porcelain...the amplitude of his vocalizations rises and the porcelain begins to ring, a weird glass harmonica sound that's unnerving.

With jaws juddering, the Hurler slams to his knees, arms reaching forward. Can he hold it in? Can he resist the pealing porcelain?

He can. His gaping jaws slam shut in a supreme effort of will. The porcelain lives another day.

His eyes swing up to the mirror, there he sees Mistress Valoid's
smiling face. With grim determination he turns....

Storm in a teacup'

Well? Are you satisfied?' he demands of her.

'Perfectly! Thanks for showing some restraint. I think we'll skip the porcelain teaset for today.'

He smiled at her - she really was the most patient of girlfriends - he needed someone like that!

They exited the shop and made their way to a restaurant around the corner. She took his hand and immediately he felt even calmer.

She smiled knowingly as they neared the door of the restaurant.

The restaurant door opened onto a vast crater; they were on the Moon. The Hurler pointed, with a shaking hand, at an immense tea-cup set into the shattered ground. "Eh, tea?" he asked his companion.

Keep clear of the crater edges!

It was then he realised that sound waves needed air to travel in and
that Betty Huston a.k.a. Mistress Valoid hadn't heard a word. He
wondered if they would freeze to death or suffocate first? The weirdest
things you think of before you're about to die!

"Hurl?"
"Huh?" He shook himself awake.
"You fell asleep during tea." She observed, handing him a tissue.
"No I didn't"
"Surely so; witness that saucer appended to yon side of your head."
The Hurler doth pause. A tentative hand arose...

"Hurl?"
"Huh?" He shook himself awake.
"You fell asleep during tea." She observed, handling him a tissue.
"No I didn't!"
"Surely so; witness that saucer appended to yon side of your head."
The Hurler doth pause. A tentative hand arose...

Sure enough a saucer clung like a limpet to his right cheek. He peeled it off his face and set it down

on the table. "I had a really strange dream, ' he told MV.

'Oh, really, was it the moon again?' she replied.

Poor Sack, always being hit and never bouncing back.

"How did you know?"
"Honey, you may be the System's greatest Hero, but I'm your
gender-approximate-friend, I know all your little quirks."
"Right," said the Hurler, poking the porcelain with an idle finger.
"So, tell me about the Moon." Miss V asked coquettishly (is that even a
word?)
"The Moon, the Moon. Moon. Moooooon." His hand smoshed the saucer,
leaving a crater on the cafe table.

'I don't want to talk about it,' he said abruptly. She knew better than to press him on the subject, so she changed it and

began talking about the superhero conference in June.  Now that the world was at peace and virtually crime-free, thanks in large part to the superheroes - most of the supervillains were in prison or dead, or had simply left Earth for worlds with easier pickings (in other words no superheroes to cramp their style) - there wasn't much to do but get on with the everyday business of life. Some of their friends were even talking of emigrating to someof the worlds where the supervillains had taken up residence just to alleviate the boredom.

Sad Sack bouncing back.

The Hurler looked into V's eyes. "The Moon took the wind out of my breeches," he said, sadly.
"Honey-pants," she began to correct him. "Wind in britches…." And then she thought better of it. Better not visit the Moon-wind-pants subject at all; it had a foul air about it. He was looking at her, a hopeful puppy. "Let's get some cheesecake," she said. "I hear it's made from the cheeks of orphaned supermodels!"
 "He cleaned my smock," The Hurler was running with his theme. She groaned.
"He kicked my Donkey!"

She sighed, and said, ‘Who did, honey? Who cleaned your clock?’

There was a meditative pause on his part, and then two words escaped his mouth with dramatic effect: ‘Rontgen Hourglass!’

Bad Black, uncle of Earl Gray

"Rontgen, the X-Rayted villian! I begin to understand your misery!" "He does this thing," explained Hurl, "where he stops time by mooning you." A shudder passed through his masculine frame.

'Still, Betty insisted, 'He's not as bad as The Revealer who ages you prematurely by showing the other side of the coin, if you know what I mean.' A shudder passed through her feminine frame. 

‘You know what they say: you can choose your friends but not your family. He’s my uncle and he’s bad,’ said the Hurler.

"I thought he'd gone for that, uh, gender reassignment surgery. You know the one, snip and Bob's your aunty?"
The Hurler chuckled, "Nope, that's my aunt Double Dee."
"What a tangled family you have! So, what are you going to do about your Uncle Rontgen?" His burly brow creased in thought....

'No, you misunderstood, honey, the Revealer is my uncle not Rontgen. Rontgen's managed to keep his true identity a secret. I can't really do anything until he attacks again. There's no telling where or when; in the meantime I've got to get some tech help, come up with some way to shield my eyes from the time-halting effects of those mesmerising mooning manouevres of his.  Sunglasses can only do so much. It's a conundrum fit for the Geekoid!'

'Uh - Oh, sorry, honey, I drifted off for a second. I think I need a lie down. Let's go home.'

The couple of Superheroes took their leave of the cafe with a deft waft upward. "First to reach the Wormhole?" Hurl asked with a twinkle in his eye; literally his eye, singular. "Catch me if you can!" Betty shot off into space like a bean from between silicon fingers.

Hurl hesitated for a nanosecond, smiled and blasted off from the pavement in hot pursuit. She had a good headstart and would probably beat him to the 'hole but he was good at building up momentum in a race and felt confident of overtaking her at some point . 'Lot of saucer activity today,' he thought. He weaved in and out of a flock of flying discs. This would slow him down a little. Then he caught sight of MV dead ahead. 'Now to turn on the juice!'

If it's only juice, it's no uice.

The gigantic valve was a tough opponent, but Hurl flexed and contorted and soon the handle turned. Juice began to pour out of the orbiting bag, spilling its orangey goodness onto the planet below. He looked-back, feeling a warm sense of good. Was that the cafe owner waving his fervent thanks? Strange that his hands seemed clenched like fists and the tone of his little squeaky voice was less than effusive.   "Hurl?" Came Betty's voice from the 'Hole. "Stop playing with your food!"

'Who's playing, honey? Don't you like orange juice? I'd say almost everybody likes orange juice.'

So saying he plunged in after Betty. In no time at all he joined her on the 'other side'.

Crazy!

 From the shadows, The revealer watched the super couple pop into dispace. "You will soon feel the slow ebb of my junk," he evilled, grasping his equipment. "Muhahahaha!"
 "You called?" said Mu."

“No, I.- I was evil laughing," he explained, a little put-off his evil stride by his pet's silly name.

There's more to mu than meets the mye!

 Mu, who was a psychic animal mentally raised a brow - her name wasn't silly, in fact 'mu', from the Chinese, had zen connotations; it was even the  reply which the Japanese gave when they were considering the American deal for peace: their reply  was 'mu' which meant 'provisionally no, considering, we'll get back to you' - the American translators, unaware of the subtleties of the Japanese language, took it as simply 'no' and dropped 2 atomic bombs shortly after. True story. Nevertheless Mu refrained from speaking her mind. She was above needing such approval or validation: 'Think what you will, Revealer, I know what I'm about!'

With a swish of her swosh, Mu flitzed across dispace. Somewhere between the evil chuckling and the evil clanking machinery, her decision had become a firm 'no'. Mistress Valoid would hear about the depraved goings-on in the Revealer's fortress - perhaps there was a way that kind woman could remove the patina of gross Goblinism that afflicted her dear owner. Maybe The Revealer could be re-pantsed. Oh she surely hoped so.

Valoid and Hurl made a pitstop near Alpha Centauri. There was a nice little place floating in space. Burgers and sodas and shakes. Yeah, baby! Mu alighted on the platform leading to the diner, she caught sight of Mistress Valoid and the Hurler at a table.

She swished her swosh excitedly and headed in their direction when her way was blocked by something very large, very dark and unfriendly. It was - it was the - !

- leg of the table; a surly square summich of a leg.
"Wheee ya geeng ya runt?" It spat.
Mu backed-up, frustrated to have to face this with her turncoat goal mere frotz away.

"More food, Hurl?" Betty arch-
"Arching your eyebrows like a super villian again?" He teased.
"You read my-"
"Face?" Sometimes he made up for all the dark stuff with silly moments.

Then he turned his attention to the contents of a fortune cookie and thoughtfully unrolled a small piece of paper. It read: 'Love is the key that opens the gates to happiness.' He smiled and presented the little piece of wisdom for Betty's amusement. She smiled too but a commotion outside the diner drew their attention away from fortunes and cookies. They drew a bead on the source of the hullabaloo. Some kind of dog-like animal was attacking a burly table leg. Clearly no love lost between those two adversaries. Some wormhole techs were laying odds.

Peg the leg

"Eel skin yee aleeeve!" The table leg was shouting between great wooden teeth that held the small creature by the skin of it's neck.
"Oh, dear!" evinced Betty. The Hurler drew a great breath and thought of nauseating things; it was his inner ritual prior to heroics. "Ptah!" He spat. A great gout of hurl formed a neat pencil-like beam and sped towards the angry leg.

'Eeuurgh!' he groaned. His aim was true, the leg was mired in slick hurl, teeth loosened and the dog-like creature escaped its terrible grip. 'A job well done', grinned Hurl.

"Short, but sweet." Agreed Betty.

Hurl simply nodded.

"Well I'm glad to find you Hero's smiling and nodding," said Mu, shaking flecks of salvation from her fur.
"Who and what are you?" Hurl asked, wiping his engorged bottom lip.
"I'm Mu, how do you do?"
"We do fine, thank you, Mu," replied Betty.
(Just then a very tall cat in a hat walked-by in the background.)

All three: Mu, Hurl and Betty were flabbergasted to a small degree. It was their first sighting of this cat; though others had claimed they had seen him around. They were still gawping when the cat began to sing!

'I am the cat of Hy-Brasil,

I come bearing tidings of ill.

Not far from here in Orion's belt,

the Brog's seething anger I have felt.

Take heed, away, away!

Some really bad news is coming this way.'

Hat off

He doffed his tall hat at the couple.
  "Once in every seven cycles," he said, "it is then 'twill open."
"Uh, thanks," said Hurl, "I think."
"Ahem"
"Oh, the little dog!" exclaimed Betty. Mu winced.
"I have stark news of wide import," said the little creature.

'Oh, what is it?' asked Betty trying to give Mu her full attention despite the polite cat and Hurl beside her who seemed

strangely nonchalante.

'My master, I should say 'former master', the Revealer - '

'Did you say 'Revealer'?' Betty interjected.

'The eye of Gathor-Romodandrion, at the conjunction of Serax and Lina...' the cat went on.

Hurl didn't seem to be paying too much attention being absorbed, stirring xylitol in his cup of coffee.

Mu said, 'Yes, my former master, I have parted company with him at last. For many months now he has been planning

his revenge on all Terrans. I believe he means to 'reveal' - the dog-like creature attempted to signify quotation marks with his pawnds – himself on all media-capable channels galaxy-wide.'

'Really!' was Betty's response. 'That might not be so bad - '

'…affording the armada passage to your dimension.'

' - after all, he's really - uh - small, if you know what I mean?'

'Yes, I know,' said Mu but he has taken steps to enlarge his instrument. He has combined subliminals and nauseasonics into the attack - humanity will not recover easily. You two are our only hope.'

'And it's only Terrans, you say? The other sentients...?'

'…will be spared the onslaught, yes.'

'Oh, dear, Betty sighed,' Hurlll! It looks like we've got work to do.'

'Huh?'

'Your uncle's misbehaving again.'

'Oh,' He lifted a finger to silence the tall cat, while sipping at his coffee. It was paramount nothing interfere with this pleasurable ritual, not even matters of galactic import.

[Note: The cat sensed the anger of the Brogs in Orion's belt - where the cat was exploring at the time. The Brogs come from another dimension though.]

Double Trouble

Betty went pale. She snapped her fingers to bring Hurl out of his
coffee-coma, "You realize what this means?"
"Yeah," he said with a manly grimace. The kind of grimace that would stop a mad horse at full gallop. A grimace that was so grim, it was ace.
"It means there's an armada coming -"
"- and all humans will be cockled by the Revealer!"
"- all sentients will be wiped-out by the invaders!"
They stopped and looked puzzled at one-another, "Huh?"

The cat sighed. Mu sat upon her tiny tuchas.

'Don't worry, Betty! I've got a secret weapon that'll stop ol' uncle Revealer in his tracks!' Hurl reassured her.

'Oh, really, that's the first time I've heard about this secret weapon?' Betty said in gentle and surprised inquiry.

'Yeah - '

'Grimace: a contortion of the face made in disgust etc. or to amuse,' the cat vocalized.

Mu sighed.

Betty and Hurl took their eyes off the cat and Betty awaited Hurl's reply. Hurl gazed at Betty's curious face lovingly and spoke.

'The weapon is...he paused for effect...the insane, shrieking ghost of Salvador Dali!' He triumphed.

"You mean Dali was sane /before/ he became a ghost?" Betty asked. The cat giggled. Mu schmooshed her tuchas with a quirky wriggle.
"Do not jest —", said Hurl, a finger raised, "— for Salvador has one great advantage against the Revealer..."

Ecchtoplasm!

‘Of course he was sane, dear, only extremely eccentric; at least that’s what the history tapes tell us,’ Hurl continued. ‘Salvador’s talents can reach over from that inbetween realm where he now resides and into our world. Let the Revealer do his worst, Salvador, will warp the fabric of reality itself, time and space will bend and melt about the Revealer’s revelation, rendering it harmless and possibly even highly artistic.’

Betty looked impressed. Mu wriggled uncomfortably but seemed content with the answer. The cat…the cat had disappeared. They hadn’t noticed its leaving.

Bender

"Doggone", quoth Hurl.
"I think you mean cat gone," corrected Mu.
"Whatever."
"You seem blue honey bunch school lunch," Betty said softly.
The Hurler stood and began to pace.
"What can it beee?" Mu asked, a little alarmed.
"It's just that it's really, you know, bendy." He said.
"What is?" Asked Mu.
"Reality. Reality is bendy when you try to contact Dali."
"Oh, dear," said Betty.
"Bendy Dali," Mu chuckled.
"Well," said Hurl, "better get to it." He pulled a watch from his latex suit; it flopped alarmingly, which was the point. It was a surreal alarm clock after all. These things have to make sense.

Don’t Dilly Dali!

‘Salvador! Salvador! Dali! Bubali! Je ne suis pas mort! He ees alive! He ees not daid!

Things went pear-shaped – literally!

Mu and Betty disappeared from sight and then reappeared. Hurl almost hurled when he saw Mu’s head on top of Bettty’s torso;  and Betty’s disembodied head screaming.

‘Stop that, you monster! I’ll digitize you, don’t push me!’ shouted Hurl at the top of his voice to counteract the savage howling winds.

Abruptly, all was calm.

‘You rang?’

Je suis un crazy homme :D)
"It is I," said Hurl.
"You?"
"The very same."
"Thee uno?"
"And only."
"Bueno," said Dali's voice.
Mu tugged Betty's pants, "Is he talking to that large carrot?" Betty nodded, rearranging her super-costume after the interrealmular maelstrom's malice.
"Yew know waat to dew," came the painter's voice from the vegetable. Hurl threw the carrot into low orbit as he turned to the others. "Right, we have a couple of things to get done," he pointed at Mu, "You, go back to your ex-master and steal his belt." Mu gulped. "You", he touched Betty's shoulder, "go to the dark side of the Moon and apply ointment."
She blanched. "I know my love, it's asking a lot," Hurl admitted softly.

'I'm not too sure I like where this is going,' Betty said.

'Another coffee, please Miss,' Hurl called to the waitress.

She nodded and finished up at the table where she was at.

Mu glumy swoshed and left the diner on his mission.

'Well, what're you waiting for, dear; get to the moon fast, there's no advantage to delay!' said Hurl. Betty glumly got up and left the diner some steps behind Mu.

Re:Moving

A tall hat approached Hurl, appearing in thin dispace and extruding. The
cat lifted his head as soon as it was all through the warp.
"Inter. Dim. Ensional. Inva. Ding. Fleet. And. All." He said.
"Yes, yes," Hurl waved a busy hand, "Betty is on it."
"Oh goody gumdrops!" said the Cat, retracting his head and popping out of reality. It was time to join Dali in thatspace. Hurl glanced around the little cafe; upon the far wall was a portrait of the owner, he assumed. 
"That'll do." He touched the surface of the painting, while ignoring the frumious glares of the staff. "Sir, please don't —" but he had puffed out of there, leaving a slightly greasy handprint.
"About teem!" Dali said with a twinkle in his eye. Hurl tried to move but could not. Beyond the little window he looked-out into a kakhi coloured square. The sun was stark; the sky blue.
Dali tapped him on the arm. "Like zis," he said. The painter shuffled his body sideways."Heer we walk like Egyptians." (Way-oh-Way-oh-Waaay-oh-way-oh)

The best-laid plans….

They had not gone far in their Egyptian waddle when Hurl and Dali sensed a great disturbance in the force.

'What the-!' exclaimed Hurl. '

'I weel check,' said Dali.

He disappeared for a second and then returned to the kakhi-coloured terrain.

'Eet ees as I feared - gamma-ray burstings - your galaxy, she ees no more!' Dali explained and then burst into hysterical laughter.

Hurl was left stunned, uncomprehending. 'Betty!'

…of spice and zen

"Oops, mierda! My misteek, por favor," Dali cried.
Hurl whipped round to face him, but only two dimensions worked in datspace, so he sort of flipped-over. "What was your mistake?"
"Eet was your entire Universe that go boom!" The maniac's head split open as giant serif laugh-words ejaculated from his red throat. "Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha." They painted the crowded scene.
  Hurl took a shuffle back. Had the Revealer got to Dali?

He could not know, of course, and Dali in his present state certainly was not about to reveal any useful information.

Picking himself up and dusting off yellow sand, he decided to put some distance between himself and the lunatic, and so

did the fastest Egyptian walking he could, and after a while he swivelled his head as much as he could while still moving forward, and spotted Dali amusing himself poking at the red 'HA HA's', which were bunched up in the maniac's vicinity like Helium balloons around some ponderous gravitational attractor.

Was he Dali's prisoner now? Could he find a way out of dis-space by himself? Was Dali lying about the universe being destroyed? Or was it the terrible, awful, horrifying truth...truth usually was pretty horrifying, so he tried his best to stifle a growing sense of loss and grief welling up from his heart. 'Gotta get outta here! Gotta get outta here!' he said aloud to a blank blue sky.

Moonward

The moon was cold and dark. Betty jetted along a few clicks above the surface. Behind her, on a series of cords, came many barrels of ointment.   "Oh Hurl, where are you now?" She asked her transponder for the xth time that day.
Suddenly, down on the gray surface she saw a flash of red. "What?" She jerked her head and angled down a little. More red flashed across from shadow to shadow. Betty paused and let the barrels careen past her as she pulled them to a halt. Huge letters were erupting from one of the many craters and then drifting out like water from a hose. "Ha Ha. Help! Ha Ha. Fiend!" She read, astounded.

Moonshot

Suddenly out of the corner of her eye - a yellow streak - it was Hurl! He was coming around from the dark side of Earth's smaller second moon at some speed. Betty wondered where he had been. Perhaps he had hurled on The Revealer stopping him in his tracks? Or had he returned from the Orion nebula? She decided to let him catch up to her position. In the meantime, she pulled in the wayward barrels.

Wheels within

Blinking at this spectacular non sequitur ( ;) ), Betty swung the cords around and around; they gained speed. Hurl had told her to oint the moon, and this she would do. She took aim at the source of the giggling graffiti and launched!

Hurl, brushing gobs of oil-paint from his suit, sped in a dashing arc towards his gal. That old cannard, Dali, had come through in the end; but what a complicated encounter it had been. The Revealer would soon know what wheels they had wrought.

The barrels soared downward, spilling their contents. Creams and lotions poured and scattered in the low-g. The moon almost sighed from the pleasure of it all.

Choices! Choices!

Far from the mad moon-annointing, a superhero was stepping out of a Manhattan diner. Optimisto, a positive, well-built, tall and fairly handsome fellow in sky-blue tights emerged having downed 2 dozen flapjacks with Maple syrup and a jug and a half of excellent coffee. He was fairly wired for sound due to the intake of vast amounts of caffeine, and so was even more manic than his usual self. He had decided to visit his favourite bookstore when turning the corner he nearly collided with his arch-foe: the dreaded dealer of despair (actually mild pessimism), the short, round and fairly ugly, Pestomisto, in burnt-sienna tights. Recognition! A slight delay and then waves of black thoughts began pummelling Optimisto - Pestomisto had launched his first strike. Reeling from the dark alleyways of his mind, feeling slightly nauseous now, as much due to the attack of darkness as the ton of flapjacks, Maple syrup and coffee straining tightly against the walls of his capacious tummy, Opti counterattacked with a few well-directed beams of pure optimism directly at Pesto's frontal cortex. Direct hit! Pesto staggered as if drunk and toppled to the pavement. The victory was short-lived though. Pesto was one tough customer, and since he was the Yin to Opti's Yang, they were evenly matched, and so rarely was there an outright victory for either party. Usually they'd both give up after 20 minutes of tit for tat strikes and call for a truce which they celebrated with milkshakes or ice-cream.

In another dimension Hurl had given up trying to find a way out on his own, and weighed down with sadness and frustrated efforts, he grudgingly turned back in the direction of Dali the demonesque. He would, with the little remaining strength he possessed, force him to open a way out and back into some other universe than his own one which was destroyed. But then he realized that even Dali would be forbidden from doing such a thing. The rules were clear for travelling between parallel universes: No Way! Even if he managed it, certain powerful cosmic forces would negate his very being: there would be no room for 2 Hurls in any one universe. If he were lucky, he might end up as a ghost like Dali with his own pocket dimension to play in.

Without Betty this seemed a fate worse than death to him. Dali changed the colour of the sky to a sickly green hue. This was Dali's domain, there was no way he could *force* him to do anything - he was the guest, and a pretty powerless one at that. How could he trick Dali into sending him out into the void? Trapped for an eternity in this pocket dimension with Dali or obliterated in null-space, or end up a ghost somewhere else? 'Fantastic choices!' he thought.

Cornered

"I sense pancakes in my author's recent past," Optimisto said to his foe.
"You mean in your recent gut!" roared Pesto.
"Oh, yeah," he replied, momentarily confused, "Of course."
Dispace wavered and The Hat toothpasted out.
"Good day," he said when his face could say.
"Uh," Pesto stammered.
"Errr," Optimisto followed.
"Big thinkers, you two," Observed Cat.
"Hey!"The Cat waved an impatient paw, "The world needs you."
There came a poof. It was not cream. They had vanished.

Pocket! The answer was in the clue. Hurl rapidly sought a corner.
"Ho ho ha — what are yoo deeng?" Dali shouted.
Hurl ignored the supernatural Spaniard.
"Yew can't do that!" He began pushing through typography; shuffling towards Hurl.
"The darned blue hell I can't!" Hurl howled, using his own colourful prose to form a blockade. Great blue sans-serif type gobbed-out and forced Dali backwards.
"Yew must choose 'Url. Void or Avoid!"
Hurl togged his head up/down, still seeking a — he found it! An actual corner! It went along and up, but — crucially — outward too.
"Three dee!" He shouted in triumph.
"We'll see!" retorted Dali.
Hurl hurried to jamb his fingers into the corner. As they met this new space, they plumped into full reality. It tingled.

Take that, Brog scum!

Surveying the wreck that was once his ship the swab was aghast.

He should have listened to the annoying cat - the  Brog armada was unstoppable. The cracked viewscreen before him  disconcertingly showed the stars of real space in places through the invisible forcefield. It also showed digital and real images of the brog ships jumping through the wyrmhole one by one.

They were jamming his emergency signals to the colony worlds nearest the 'hole exit. 'They were done for,' he thought but at least he would take one enemy ship with him. Ramming speed, reactors to critical - bright orange fireball in the silent void of space. The swab was no more. The brog ship carried on untouched - its force-shield still shimmering aurora-like from the absorbed energies.

Two Cubes

Greatly relieved that the Swab was no longer an entity that needed dialogue, the Cat nevertheless felt a moment of sadness in the passing.Talking into his tall hat, the Cat said, "The brog are here, here be the brog, shake a leg
or they will flog
the dog, a log,
some frog, my blog
even a hog!"
"The moon is ready," came Betty's staticy voice.
The Cat nodded as he tweaked his hat.
"Calling all Brogs! Calling all Brogs!
Nya nya nya nya nya nya. You don't scare me!"
Whereupon he took off with the Brog fleet in hot pursuit.

"Hey honey bunch pants!" The Hurl was saying to Betty. I better play along, she thought, eyeing this facsimilie with some trepidation.
"Hello yourself Sailor Moon Boy," she retorted.
"I'm legit and I'm back from .. that place. You know?"
"Oh, indeed. The French Riviera?"
The Hurl snapped fingers and gleamed, "That's the one. So, what you doing here?"
"Soothing the Moon," she said, apropos. Backing up some.

His fingers found purchase and began to lift.
"A few more whiskeers and all will make nonsense!" Spoke the Spaniard from far too close-by. Hurl put his back into it.
"Fear not, 'Url. I was testing ew," Dali explained.
"You were?" Hurl asked, a little hurt.
"Si, and yew passed! Now, pronto, we must seek Pablo!"
"But," Hurl looked aghast at his fingers, now lifting the corner -
escape so very close.
"We need 'is kubes, thees Revealer has uno grande weakness!"
"Hokay," said Hurl, dropping the corner and following.
"Balls to Picasso!" Shouted Dali.

Picasso induces headache
Picasso was hard to see, his face a mess of angles and squares and eyes in great profusion. It was enough to give Hurl a headache and the brightly coloured jaggedy things did indeed trigger a migraine. 'Damn, you, Picasso, damn you!' blustered Hurl.

End game

Pablo was easy to find. He stood out in that landscape of flatness. Once
updated on the sit, the old lecher proposed a solution.
"I will cube his orbs so that his crotch-power is turned to laughter!"
"Brilliant!" Announced Hurl with a huge grin.
"See, it works already!" Said Dali, grinning too.

Back in the lair, Mu was trembling. Her ex master was unamused by her comings and goings.
"Where have you been Mu?" The Revealer pressed harder on the tongs.
"Speak!"
*Whimper*

"Here comes the fleet!" Shouted Cat pulling the two dumbos through unlikey spaces.
"Look," exclaimed Pestomisto, "at the Moon."
"Oh yah," observed Optimisto.
"Betty did a fine job with that ointment," finished Cat. "Hurry!"

bend game

Don't look at me like that, Mu, you traitrous thing!

Mu could no longer take the tong torture and spilled the beans.

The Revealer was stunned by the plan to lubricate the moon.

If he did not act quickly all would be lost.

The fleet took up positions around Earth's lotioned Luna.

Hurl and Betty flew away as fast as they could. It was not cowardice; it wasn't even a tactical retreat. There was some fear, they would admit. Their plan was to stymie The Revealer - invading aliens were not catered for at this time, so it was advisable to hightail it back to Earth to consult with other heroes and the UN Special Committee for exo-politics. No doubt there was a contingency plan for just such an eventuality because if there weren't....

Grinning Dali, grinning Pablo, grinning Hurl,

then just grins spreading gently, curling slowly into

a Möbius strip; then the strip eased itself through a few more dimensions, then nothing: to see: here: move along: it was infinite: it : it wis: it's cosmic karmic justice!

And that's enough said!

zend game

 Betty nodded and her chin slipped from her palm.
"Hey gorgeous, my company putting you to sleep?"
She blinked in surprise, wiping her messed milkshake. "Sorry Hurl, I guess I nodded off."
Hurl made as if 'twas alright. "You have a little .. something.." He
pointed to her face.
Betty fumbled her cheek and pulled the saucer from her face, a little blush crept across.
"What was going on a little while ago?" She asked, still lost in deja-vu.

Hurl appeared startled. Betty found it hard to read his face.

'What were you dreaming about?' she said.

'It was you, you had nodded off and a saucer got stuck to your cheek!'

'Oh, is that all?' Betty was reassured.

Mend Game

"Hang on.." They both said in unison. Their surroundings began to scroll and curl. The Möbius strip caught them up and spun into dat space.
"Karma, my hairy ass!" Flat Hurl was saying to Pablo.
"Ooh, ooh, ohh!" Dali was hopping up and down; pointing to the side.

A shadow like a twisted movie-strip-pretzel plunged upon them.

Now, what!

Then ten paces from them it flattened itself out into a dark flat rectangle. The 2 former artists and the 2 superheroes gazed intently at the black rectangle. Then a shape began to coalesce in datspace emerging from the ebon-hued portal.

It became apparent in moments that it was a human - and stark-naked. The human male didn't seem to notice them much and also did not hesitate in front of the dark doorway and filed slowly past them. No sooner had he vacated the spot where he had first appeared when another human form appeared from the darkness - this time it was a naked woman. She too moved off without too much pause. Soon, the group were onlookers at a solemn procession of nudists. Apart from the humans in their birthday suits, a few aliens joined the line. They were dressed though in home-made attire because as everyone knows aliens always go about naked; those who wish to make some sort of statement usually adopt garments for that purpose. These aliens are called 'clothists'.

'What now!' thought Hurl, thinking this was surely the most eventful day or night of his life - whether awake or asleep. At the moment, he could be forgiven for assuming he was dreaming but surely no dream could possibly be this real? After 38  clad and unclad beings filed past them and spread themselves into a line parallel to the doorway, a larger shape emerged behind 2 naked humans who were lifting it from the front - it evidently was a litter covered in ermine which betokened royalty or some VIP. Lifting from behind were 2 fully-clothed aliens. No more sentient beings or anything else came in after that and the black doorway began to twist into the movie-strip-pretzel shape it had had before, and flapped away at some speed.

Pablo began to hop up and down like Dali who seemed to have slipped into some sort of trance which spread a large stupid smile on his face. Hurl and Betty took their eyes off the new arrival and looked quizzically at Pablo - evidently he and Dali knew what they were dealing with here. 'Furioser and furioser,' though Hurl.

                                                                 End of Part 1

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.