Welcome to the Ritalin™ Reading Room!

Tournament Of Champions IV Responses, The Threequel


These responses ran considerably longer than most, but we could not, in good conscience, cut them. Therefore, we decided to throw open the door of the Ritalin™ Reading Room yet again. People with short attention spans have probably already tuned out by now.
The main quietly finishes working in his basement. "Ah yes, the end is near. Soon they will pay for what they've done to me. Once I complete my device, all I'll need is the opportunity."

Just then from the TV beside comes something that diverts his attention. "This weekend, the FIRST ANNUAL WWWF GROUND ZERO TOURNAMENT OF CHAMPIONS!"

"'Tournament of Champions' eh? Well isn't that just perfect. A bunch of so called 'champions' who never once had to face the unfair odds that befell me. Yes, I think this is the perfect date for the return of 'that jerk' HEH HEHHEHH HEHHAHAAAHAAAAHAAAAA!!!!"

The weekend comes, and after a few hours, the competitors are all still standing, but weary. The Men And Black are almost out of ammo against Death. Godzilla is getting full with eating the Hooligans, and can't walk much. Spock and Boba Fett have long since exhausted their toys against each other, King Arthur and his Knights are fighting, well, nothing in particular, and the robots have no idea what kind of movie they're in now.

At the South end of the field a large crash is heard. Followed by another. Then another. Soon the contraption responsible is in view. It's...big. And strange. And it's coming right towards the battle field, with all of its portruding weapons loaded.

"What do you make of this, HotBranch?", asks Paul.

"No idea. I hope it's not a wild card entry. Hasn't Star Trek lost enough by now?"

But a wild-card entry it is indeed, and it jumps into the fray uninvited. A metal door opens and out come a tidal wave of flying cows, horses, chickes, ducks, and African and European swallows, and King Arthur and his men wind up saying good knight.

Boba Fett turns his attention away from Spock to take aim at the behemoth. A lower door opens up, and 4 men who have had enough of bounty hunters in this universe took aim, and decide to actually kill for once. "I love it when a plan comes together" says Hannibal, after disposing of their most recent foe, and the A-Team walks back into their friend's ship.

Spock now with his first enemy gone decides to reroute his tricorder's incoming tracer signal to his phaser's trilithium fusion capacitators, in order to...well, it's doesn't really matter, because while he's doing that, a green ASTTBBS beam (anti-Star-trek-technobabble-BS) comes out of the front of the machine, destroying not only Spock but the entire Trek universe, as well as half of the Sci-Fi channel.

Godzilla, now a bit annoyed that someone else has decided to play big man on campus, lumbers towards the black beast. As he approaches, a light appears from the top of the machine, and points itself towards the lizard. He shrieks and covers his eyes, but it's too late. He shrinks into oblivion as holographic images of Siskel & Ebert and Beavis & Butthead reduce him to B-movie rental land, with no sequel in sight.

"The A-Team? Beavis & Butthead? This mysterious person obviously has access to the Ground Zero and Grudge Match universe. But who could possibly rally such diverse forces?", wonders Mark.

The Men In Black take their depleted weapons and fire them towards the ship, to no effect. From the same door as the A-Team comes another more eccentric individual. "It's showtime!" are the last words J and K here before Beetlejuice whisks them to his private gym (and you don't want to know what kind of exercises he has in store for them).

With no lizard to gnaw at, the English Soccer Hooligans start attacking the vessel in no organized fashion whatsoever. Suddenly from doors all around the ship, many Rottweiler's weights in Chihuahua's drop down surround the football fanatics, and soon find them much tastier than Taco Bell(tm).

"Astounding. I'm at a loss as to who could assemble such a force", comments Mister Silverback.

"As am I", replies Vlad. "But I do notice something: all of the former competitors we've seen from this vessel all lost in their respective matches! So then perhaps the question is, who could be a true champion of losers?"

They would find out soon enough. The MST3K robots look at the vessel, look at each other, look back at the vessel, and decide that maybe watching bad movies until the end of time isn't such a bad fate. They return to their ship and get ready for the made-for-TV reprodcution of the fight.

Only the machine and Death now remain. Naturally not one to back down from anyone, Death slowly hovers towards his last remaining foe. While the commentators wonder what even this machine can do, it already has its answer. "We get to play him again! Excellent!" Bill and Ted run towards Death and with a flash of light, the three go to a Twister rematch.

The crowd and commentators sit in stunned awe. But the awe turns to terror as the machine turns torwads them. While the crowd is able to escape unharmed, all of the commentators are soon paralyzed in their booths. Tentacles from the back of the vessel soon package them and drag them out onto the field. In the silence that follows, a door near the fron opens, and a lone masked man walks towards the captured commentators.

"What's going on? Why have you done this? Couldn't you have just bought a ticket like everyone else?"

The man stands in silence. Finally, one speaks up with the questions that must always elicit Meaningful Answers[tm].

"Who are you?", asks HotBranch.

The man stops and finally speaks. "A man you've wronged. A man who should have been invited today, and would have been if it weren't for your corrupted ways."

Vlad takes the next turn, "What do you want?"

"To take back what is mine. To exact revenge on those who would stop me: YOU!", as he points to the five helpless men. He then walks back into the vessel and fires up the engine again.

"Where are we going?", asks Paul in desperation.

The man stops again, and a smile appears through his mask. He finally reveals himself to them, and the horror that comes with knowing that payback has arrived swallows them whole.

"'Where are we going'? Why I'll gladly tell you where we're going..."

A ROUND TRIP!

BWAAHAAHAAHAAA!!!!!

And Dale Earnhardt puts Road Rally Revenge into 1st gear, and drives off to San Diego, the bodies of the commentators bouncing along.

"See you next year, folks" are his final words, as he speeds off into the sunset.

- -pupdog

Great, just what we needed. A Dale Earnhardt Jihad (Theah Ainít No Jee-had). - Eds


...and the shout rings out through the crowd.

"COMMENCE THE BEATINGS!"

IS ALL THIS NECESSARY? Death looks nonplussed.

"Of course it is, old boy," The Knights are enjoying this. "Big summer brawl. Legendary fights the heart of July. Great battles in the last summer of the century. Sir Robin's minstrels would love it, pity they're in the souffle."

IT'S JUST THAT I WAS WONDERING.

"Aboot what, ya bleedin' poofter?" The hooligans seem to have trouble keeping their national idioms straight.

WHERE ARE THE PROCEEDS GOING?

"Proceeds? Mike, you didn't say anything about proceeds." Crow starts brandishing his spatula at Mike, at which point Mike and Tom Servo retalliate and a small brawl begins sidestage.

THIS CROWD MUST HAVE PAID SOMETHING TO SEE THIS. SOMEONE MUST HAVE PAID THE SINGER, AND HIS NUMEROUS ASSASSINS.

"The anthromorphic personification's right," Bobba Fett starts checking his contract database. The others are momentarily taken aback by Fett's use of big words. "There's money behind this, and I haven't seen a cent."

I BELIEVE WE HAVE BEEN STIFFED, IF YOU'LL PARDON THE EXPRESSION.

"Y'know, I hate to admit it but bony here's got a point. We shouldn't be shootin' each other," K looks disappointed. "Problem is, this Boomstick 3000 here, it's all charged up, y'see. And once it's charged, it has to be discharged. To the tune of several city blocks."

INDEED. I WOULD LIKE TO DISCUSS MATTERS WITH THOSE WHO SUMMONED ME HERE WITHOUT PAYMENT.

"Not a bad idea, stiffy," Crow crawls back onstage from where Tom threw him into the crowd, yelling 'Free tupperware! Free tupperware!' "Anyone know who set this gig up?"

"The contract on the singer is signed by the Panel," Fett is either clipping his nails or loading some finger-mounted weapon. (Note that Steve and BrianTM were always smart enough to contract their competitors through dummy corporations)

"THEM?" they all chorus. Various mutterings about being pulled out of any number of pursuits to face off against unlikely opponents. Lots of reminisces about the Steve and BrianTM days as opposed the this bunch of upstarts.

"Boys, I think we're all tired of getting jerked around for these little spats when we all know they should be devoting their time to a Vader vs. Maul match," K is now having trouble holding his gun steady, and it's now starting to steam. "Last time they called me in, I had to wait fer'em for three hours in the Ritalin Reading Room. Why don't we all head down to their place and kick'em around a little?"

Murmurs, then words, then outright cheers of agreement. Weapons waved in the air,

"Good deal. Now, lemme just unload this thing 'fore it explodes," K turns the glowing-red weapon towards J and pulls the trigger. After the echoes die away and everyone's eyes recover from the blinding light, they notice only a large smoking crater where J once was. "Y'deserved that for Wild Wild West, kiddo. Worse'n that, in fact."

CUT TO...

Grudge Central. The ground is littered with the remnants of several rottweiller's weights in chihauhas. The 131st Sixties Sitcom Chick Regiment (the "Blonde Avengtrixes") is falling back, as Jeannie and Samantha use the last of their powers in a vain attempt to hold off Crow's Doom Spatula, which has been responsible for 100% of the the casualties on both sides so far.

"C'mon c'mon c'mon TAKE THAT SAM! Serves you right for switching husbands mid-series. And now watch, Jeannie, as I condemn you to an eternity of Old Navy commercials! HA HA HA!"

At this point, Crow turns the knob on the spatula up all the way, inadvertantly causing the lethal utensil to hit the resonant frequency of molded plastic. Crow shatters and collapses, with a single cry of "medic!" Tom Servo breaks out the Super Glue and begins emergency surgery.

The news of Crow's death cheers up the Midsummer Night's Beatdown Brigade, as the would-be competitors have tagged themselves. K, who was on the phone with his agent trying to find a new partner for MiB2, finally settles on Pauley Shore. Thus resolved, he puts the cellphone away, charges up his gun, and subsequently explodes. Onlookers remind themselves to always clean their laser guns after near-overloads. Fortunately, K manages to take the Panel's entire 43rd Barbarian Rangers (Xena, Conan, William Wallace and, for some reason, Ross Perot) with him.

The raid on Panel HQ has stalemated. Boba Fett took out the Idependence Day mothership, the Death Star, and RuPaul before finally being downed by Bill Nye.

Spock wasn't in the battle. Just before they left the stage in DC, he grabbed a few of the more attractive female trekkies (which isn't saying much) and got a hotel room and a full kilo of Brazilian cocaine. His last comment before driving off in a stolen Mercedes was "Pure logic has nothing on good freebase. Now, I've got ho's to tend to." He then peeled off at ninety, talking with a tailor on the cellphone about "getting a starfleet logo on my pimpsuit."

The Soccer hooligans had a run-in with any number of Storm Troopers and Red-Shirted ensigns. After an epic battle lasting all of five minutes, the hooligans retire to local bars and quickly drink the area dry of anything alcholic, including antiseptic washes.

Godzilla was taken out early in the fight by Gary Coleman. However, the animal handlers of the Panel's 71st Sitcom Kid Battalion soon lost control of him, and current reports state that he's gone rogue, having eliminated several knights of the round table and the Panel's entire 7th Comic Relief Brigade (Midgets, Pee-wee Herman, and Bill Gates. Fortunately, Dan Quayle managed to escape, anticipating the day he'd go toe-to-toe with Gerald Ford in his own match).

Although Death, Arthur and the remainder of his knights, and a few hung-over hooligans are holding the line, it is clear that the siege on the panel will soon falter. Faced with a mad, slavering Andy Taylor, Arthur reluctantly prepares for a fighting retreat. Then, suddenly, out of the shadows, what appears to be a small cannon is pointed at the back of the sheriff's head.

"I know what you're thinking. Did he fire six shots, or only five? To be honest, I've lost track myself. But considering that this is a .357 magnum, the most powerful handgun in the world, and would blow your head clean off, you've got to ask yoursel--"

"Pardon me," Arthur interjects. "But you haven't fired a damn thing. Blow'is 'ead orf!"

Dirty Harry squints, dropping small animals as far as a hundred yards away. "You're right." Andy's head becomes a fine red mist.

So arrives the Unpublished to vent their fury upon the Panel. Led by Dirty Harry and Shaft, they fall upon the forces of The PanelTM like a storm. The silent minority of those whose matches were reserved for a sequel Grudge Match book which never came, whose mute statistics rot in a secluded corner of the House that Steved and Brian built, they rove the battlefield like angry ghosts.

Beetlejuice is in fact an angry ghost, but he stalks the battlefield like a man whose film career was ruined by Multiplicity. The combined forces of Homer Simpson and Norm rip through the panel's defenses like an Ethiopian at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Shaft flanks and routs the defending forces in a whirlwind of unpredictable tactics, since no one understands him but his woman.

But all of this is like fireflies before a thunderstorm, because soon the ravages of the other Unpublished are dwarfed by a one-man armaggedon that is called Rev. Jim Ignatowski. With hair like a blighted swamp and eyes like clouded lava lamps, he rips through the remnants of the Panel Defence Force and starts to slaughter the Panel itself. First to go are recent guest commentators, Kilgore Trout and Rosencrantz fall to the floor with sucking chest woundsTM. As Jimmy tears through the rest of the Guest Commentators Human Shield Brigade, the PanelTM proper is finally brought low.

"We surrender," Hotbranch pleads. "You can have anything you want. Money, power, complementary peanuts. Anything!"

Death materializes out of the shadows, his robe torn from battle. His grin is wider than usual. WHAT, he asks in words echoing from the open tomb, ABOUT GROUPIES?

The humanity, or lack thereof

Billy Jo Jimbob C. Riley Jr., Publicity Agent to the Unpublished.

- Will work for advertising space.

This is the third response that has included the demise of the Panel. What did we deserve to do this? Don't you like the service we provide? You know, we can always bring back Ricky Martin if you would prefer him better. Hmm? - Eds


Joel: Today, we have a very special feature. The return of the invention exchange!
Mike and the Bots: Yay!
Joel: Our very special guest for our extra special feature is Random Ensign # 2465350. What do you have for us, Ensign?
Ensign: Well, uh Joel, for the invention exchange I brought this phaser.
Joel: Neat.
Tom: Hey Ensign, what is up with that "Logic Loop" crap you guys are always pulling on Trek? I mean, I am not going to fall for that!
Ensign: Actually it works on every known computer system.
Tom: It wouldn't work on me.
Ensign: Yes, I'm pretty sure it would.
Tom: Bring it on then bitch!
Ensign: Okay, everything I say is a lie.
Tom: What the? The hell is that supposed to be?!?
Crow: So then that phaser, would it vaporize you without a trace?
Ensign: Yes, yes it would.
Crow: Liar!
Ensign: No really, it would.
Crow: Suuuuure it would. LIAR!
Ensign: I am telling you it most certainly would!
Bots: Prove it!
Ensign: FINE I WILL! SE*ZAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP*
Tom: Well, I'll be damned...
Crow: Oops, guess you were right.
Mike: You guys... that wasn't very nice. Apologize to that man's ashes right now!
TB: Sorry!
Mike: We'll be right back.

Mike: Hi, we're here with King Arthur.
Tom: And we're having a lovely tea party!
Arthur: Should I not be off gallantly leading my faithful retainers into yon melee?
Joel: Oh don't worry about that.
*in the background of the shot: Godzilla roars, weapons fire is being exchanged between the MiB and Boba Fett, the soccer hooligans and Arthur's troops are busy slugging it out, Death is following around the twenty remaining ensigns*
Crow: Tell us about yourself.
Arthur: Well I should think that you have undoubtedly heard of me as well as my many noble exploits.
Tom: Notttt.... really.
Arthur: I am the anointed King of the Britons!
Crow: And that is special because?
*background Fett vaporizes MiB, Godzilla stumbles around looking confused, Arthur's knights have used the Holy Grenade of Antioch and the killer bunny on the hooligans, to no avail. Death is still following the last three ensigns*
Arthur: I am the sovereign King of the Britons! My authority is absolute!
Tom: Good for you!
Arthur: Now see here! What the?!
*several FBI agents charge Arthur, wrestling him to the ground*
Arthur: What the bloody hell do you think you are doing?!?
FBI: Sir Arthur Pendragon, you are wanted in connection with the Ruby Slippers Massacre, along with Sir Lancelot, Sir Galahad, Sir Bedivere and a fellow named Brave Sir Robin. You're going away for a long time, scumbag.
Arthur: But you cannot do this! I am King of the Britons!
FBI Agent: Tell it to the judge.
*They remove Arthur from the scene and then go and round up all except Galahad who has disappeared*
Mike: Uh... we'll be right back.

Mike: Hi, I'm here with TV's Spock.
Spock: Greetings.
*Tom Servo and Crow come from off camera, arguing and brandishing crowbars*
Mike: What are you guys up to?
Crow: Why hello Mike. Me and Tom are playing Soccer Hooligans!
*Tom hits Crow with a crowbar*
Crow: OW!
Spock: Highly illogical.
Tom: Hey, shut up! *hits Spock, rendering the Vulcan unconscious*
*two soccer hooligans approach*
ESH1: 'at's no way to 'andle a crowbar!
ESH2: That way will tire out your arm a lot quicker, use less follow through and let the crowbar do most of the work.
*Boba Fett walks up*
Fett: I prefer a razor myself.
Mike: We'll be right back.

Tom: Oh hi, turns out Fett and the soccer hooligans have quite a bit in common. Oh and Spock is wanted on no less than twelve systems.
Spock: I have never been to those planets.
Fett: That's what they all say. *handcuffs Spock to himself* Like I was saying, why do these Yanks even bother with soccer? They don't know the least thing about a proper row.
ESH2: Right you are!
*Godzilla is approaching from the background*
ESH1: You're a good un, Mr. Fett! *slaps him across the back, which of course ignites Fett's jetpack, launching him into Godzilla's mouth, and dragging Spock along with him*
Tom: Cambot, please tell me you got a shot of that.
Cambot: Yep.
ESH2: Oh well, back to the riot we go. *hooligans leave, Joel walks up*
Joel: Hey guys, it's our old friend Godzilla.
Bots: Oh hi.
*Godzilla roars*
Tom: We've seen several of your films sir, mostly the bad ones.
Crow: But isn't that almost all of them?
*Godzilla roars*
Tom: Oh really? What about Godzilla vs. Megalon?
*Godzilla roars*
Crow: So, what if you were hungry? And YES we were forced to watch them!
Joel: Okay, I have had about enough of you and your stupid movies! *Joel launches the AntiMatter Salad Shooter via a catapult left by Arthur's troops at Godzilla, who promptly swallows it and then implodes a few seconds later*
TB: Whoa!
Mike: Huh?
Crow: Simple Mike, Joel's device distorted reality, by which compacted Godzilla and then hurled him into another dimension or time.
Mike: What?
Tom: Oh nevermind! Godzilla is gone that's the important thing! No more Godzilla movies!
Joel: And there was great rejoicing across the land.
All: Yay!!!!!
Joel: We've got commercial sign, we'll be right back.

Joel: Hello again, our guest is The Angel of Death.
Death: I am here for your souls.
Mike: Tell me something, why do you always give those Ensigns so much trouble?
Death: I hate those bastards, that StarFleet fabric is hard to remove from this blade.
Mike: So why bother?
Death: I don't get to choose everybody I kill.
Crow: Does it bother you that you share the same name as the cat from the Smurfs?
Death *interrupting: As a matter of fact, it does, the other angels are always--
Tom Servo: Very nice. Tell me, how exactly did you get that job? Death: I was appointed by--
Joel *interrupting*: If you could be human, which nationality would you be?
Death: Canadian. I love their postal service.
Tom: What kind of movies do you watch?
Death: What? I am charged with collecting souls, I have no time for mindless entertainment!
Tom: So you never saw Meet Joe Black?
Death: Why, what difference does it make?
Crow: It's about you taking human form to learn about life.
Death: What? That is preposterous, who could possibly know more about life than I?
Tom: Hollywood, what can you do?
Death: So who did they pick to play me? Sean Connery, Dustin Hoffman, Jack Nicholson?
Crow: Umm... Brad Pitt.
Death: The day of reckoning for Tinsel Town is at hand! Prepare for thy doom, City of Evil! *disappears in puff of smoke*
Mike: Now see what you've done Crow!
Crow: I'm sorry Mike... how was I to know that he would kill most of Hollywood for that? Probably all of the producers, many of the actors, not to mention hundreds upon hundred of screenwriters, gone forever!
Tom: Wait a minute...
ALL: YAAAY!
Mike: We'll be back.

Joel: Hi folks. It's the end of the show and you know what that means.
ALL: Viewer mail!
Crow *reading*: Hello, I was just wondering what happened to the Knights of the Round Table. Signed little Timmy.
Tom: Well Timmy, the police report said Arthur was convicted of murder and got in trouble for contempt of court. Sir Robin plea- bargained, oh and Galahad was arrested later that day while soliciting an undercover police officer.
Joel *reading*: So, what happened to Boba Fett and Spock? Signed the Fanboy Jihad.
Tom: Oh they're both still alive, so no threats are necessary. They're just indisposed until Spock can get that jetpack to work.
Mike *reading*: Hi, I was just wondering how much longer this response was going to be.
Joel: Not much more. But the next collaboration will be longer than even the Road Rally report! Mwahahahahahahaha!

*End theme plays*

Godzilla glances around his new surroundings, this place looks familiar. He sees a possible foe and issues his standard challenge.
Godzilla: Who the hell are you?
Smaller reptile: I am Godzilla! *does weak imitation of roar*
Godzilla: Yeaaahhhh right!

- The Holonet Crew: Topcat, Ubiq, and Dommer


Page 1 - Page 2


Home | History | Suggestions | FAQ | Stats | Links
Awards | Commentators | Real Life | Fun Stuff | Studio Store

© 1999, WWWF Ground Zero; © 2000, Ground Zero, LLC