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He-Man

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You've Reached the End [01 Mar 2005|02:22pm]
He-Man's Livejournal is on a multi-year hiatus. What you are seeing are the last posts. The story of He-Man begins here:

http://heman.livejournal.com/2002/01/16/

He-Man and the House in the Swamp [30 Oct 2003|08:41pm]
[ mood | thirsty ]

HAPPY HE-MAN HALLOWEEN!


Hi! He-Man here. Welcome to my second Halloween Special! This year I thought I'd try something a little more action-oriented. Again, it's best read when you're alone in the dark and no one can save you. When you've finished, check out the Castle Grayskull community for a deleted scene and a contest. Hope you enjoy it!Collapse )

7 fists| add to the fisting

The Halloween Special: Randor's Summer House [31 Oct 2002|12:01am]
[ mood | scared ]

Welcome to the first He-Man Halloween Special! Before I can let you read it I have to point out two things. First, this episode does not fit the chronological order of the rest of the series as has been aired so far. It was always intended to be shown today, but I had originally expected to be further along in the series by now, so if the plot doesn't make much sense, don't worry - it will in a month or so. The second thing is that this is the Halloween episode so it is best read in a dark and lonely place (like Teela's bed) and not necessarily in your cubicle at work, but hey, it's up to you. Now click away and Happy Halloween!Collapse )

13 fists| add to the fisting

Lights Out, Scare-Glow [29 Oct 2002|11:58pm]
[ mood | accomplished ]

“Where ya goin’?”
“Back to Eternia, Alabam-Ra. I’ve got some unfinished business back there.”
“But I thought you weren’t He-Man no more. I thought you was Prince.”
“Right now i don’t know who I am, but I know what I’ve got to do, and it’s not singing Purple Rain again.”

Outside, Mountain-Man was trying to start his old Volkswagen van.
‘Me an’ the missus saw the Lovin’ Spoonful in this van,” he told me proudly.
“Don’t tell me you actually drove this thing to concerts!”
“Hell no! But one day we was stopped at a light an’ saw the Lovin’ Spoonful sittin’ right in this here van. So we bought it from ‘em for fifty dollars.”
The van let out an explosive groan.
“You sure you gonna need to be goin’ anywhere soon?” asked Mountain-Man with a dubious glance at the engine.

I thought about Mer-Man and Beast-Man, who were slated for execution at the red triangle. Orko didn’t really enter into my thinking - what’s one less blue wizard guy? They were going to die because of me. Because I had failed in my duty as superhero extraordinaire. It was up to me to save them.

I grabbed Mountain-Man by his stained overalls. "Look, Hillbilly Bob, I don't care if you have to sell your wife/sister for parts. You are going to fix that bus!!!"


As the triangle of their death inched ever closer, Mer-Man and Beast-Man prepared themselves, confident they would leave life just the same way they had lived it...crying and complaining.

‘It’s almost the red triangle,” sniffed Mer-Man. He was chained to an execution block at the center of St. Skeletor Cathedral. The chains were making it difficult for him to rub his eyes, so he cried even more.
“This sucks!” moaned Beast-Man. “I don’t want to die!!!”
Orko was ignored because while he was a friend and all, he wasn’t what you’d call a close friend. He was left to dwell in his own pointy-hatted misery, which he did with some degree of success.

The crowd of onlookers and well-wishers were gathering. Some pelted the condemned with rotten fruit and Insane Clown Posse dolls. Others enjoyed the complimentary refreshments.
“We’re makin’ a killing on brownie sales today,” chortled Trap-Jaw, still in his apron.

Scare-Glow approached the podium.

“Friends, enemies, and relatives. We are gathered here today to celebrate my elevation to the rank of God-Emperor and the demise of certain unsavory Eternians who for too long have been the subject of an uneven comic LiveJournal...” He paused to clear his throat.

Just then the doors to the cathedral were thrown open and, silhouetted against the bright light of an Eternian afternoon, was a powerful and statuesque form.
“OMG!” shouted Mer-Man. “It’s He-Man!!!”

“That’s right,” cried the intruder, stepping into focus. “It’s me, He-Man Johnson!”
Applause.
“Hope I’m not late, but my alarm is broke.”
A sympathetic sigh escaped from the crowd as He-Man Johnson found his seat.


“As I was saying,” continued a nonplussed Scare-Glow, “today we usher in a new age. There will be no more Blonde Ambition lording his power over common Eternians.” He paused to allow for laughter, of which there was some, mostly from Orko.
“We will continue with my strategy of ever-increasing public works projects which will unite the people, give them a goal, structure and hope, and provide work for the throngs of jobless writers who fill our streets.
“Once I am declared God, I will have several temples built in my honor and I promise you that every able-bodied...”

Scare-Glow’s speech was interrupted again when a figure in the front row cast off his Moss-Man disguise to reveal a tall, muscled and Nordic barbarian-type guy.

“It’s me, He-Man!” the interloper declared bravely.
The minions of evil fell back in terror. Scare-Glow braced himself for an attack.

“Isn’t that He-Ro?” asked Orko brainlessly. Beast-Man kicked at him, but it was too late - the damage was done.
“Someone kill that wanker,” commanded Scare-Glow.

“Crap!!!” cried He-Ro, reaching into his belt. “Don’t anyone move - I’ve got a gun.”
With a flourish, he produced a .38 pistol and waved it at the crowd.
“Damn,” growled Trap-Jaw. “That’s a real gun!”
A shot rang out in the cathedral, deafening everyone.

“Damn again,” added Trap-Jaw. “I’ve been shot with a real gun!” He collapsed to the floor holding his bleeding side.

“There, ya see?! Shouldn’t mess with the wizard, should you? Didn’t expect to see a gun in a kiddie cartoon, did you?!!!” He-Ro held his gun gangsta sideways and let fly with a few more bullets. One winged Buzz-Off and another passed through the “O” on Orko’s shirts, causing him to deflate slightly and prompting Beast-Man to cheer, “Bullseye!”

The unexpected clicking of He-Ro’s gun quickly reminded everyone that real handguns, unlike their cartoon equivalent, need ammo.
As Scare-Glow’s men subdued the now-weaponless dufus, Trap-Jaw was bundled onto a stretcher and carried out of this journal entry to receive real medical attention.

“To get back to my point...”
As Scare-Glow droned on, I was rapidly approaching Eternia City in the Lovin’ Spoonful mobile.
Mountain-Man hadn’t really fixed it. Instead he had put it in neutral with the optimistic belief that it was all downhill from here. I should have realized that after I ended Season 1. I crested one last hill and began my final descent upon Castle Skeletor.

“And that is a brief outline of my five-year plan for starfiction.com, Eternia, and the next ‘Survivor’.

The audience snapped awake as I neutrally rammed the van through the doors of the cathedral.
“WTF?!” demanded Scare-Glow, stomping his foot.

I leapt out of the driver’s seat and was about to scream “It’s ass kickin’ time!” but I got caught up on a seatbelt and shouted, “It’s ass time!” which was kinda embarrassing.

“Maybe that’s He-Man,” hoped Mer-Man.
“He-Man here, you magnificent bastards!” I announced.
“That’s not He-Man,” screamed Rio Blast, “that’s Prince Adam just dressed like He-Man!”
“Prince Adam?” wobbled Scare-Glow shockedly. “That brainless man of fashion!?”
“He’s a deadbeat dad!!!” cried an old woman, waving a baby at me. “That ol’ horndog got me with child...twice!”
“That’s a lie,” complained Mer-Man, coming to my rescue. “Everyone knows he’s gay!”

“Look,” I said, “Prince Adam, He-Man, it doesn’t matter. I’m here to beat the hell out of Scare-Glow and save Eternia.”
“Oh,” accepted the audience.

Scare-Glow said a very bad word.

“Momma said knock you out,” rapped Beast-Man.
Scare-Glow grabbed his magic lance. It began to crackle with a nefarious energy.
“Smoke this, he-Man!”

A great bolt of lightning flew from the lance’s tip and struck me full in the chest. My head exploded. Even my eyes were electrified.
“How do you like that, Prince Charming?!”
I was knocked down to the ground by the blast. My muscles were tensing up and my blood was boiling in my veins. Things sucked pretty much. I was still weak from the fight I had been in over in The Sticks and I was in no mood to be zapped by a wannabe God-Emperor.

“I...like it...like...I...like...”
I squeezed my eyes shut and summoned all my Prince Adam strength.
“Like...I like...”
I forced myself to my feet.
“LIKE I LIKE YOUR MOM!!!”

I rushed Scare-Glow and grabbed the point of his lance. There was a great explosion of light and I could feel the skin on my hand charring as power coursed into my body.
“YOU SMELL!!!” I cried, and began to bend the tip of the spear backwards. A red glow began to slink down the hilt of the lance towards Scare-Glow. Suddenly he cried out and dropped the now-useless and bent weapon to the ground.
“Danger: High Voltage,” sang Mer-Man, ushering in a White Stripes argument with Beast-Man.
Scare-Glow spun and ran towards the back of the skeletal altar.

Following him and completely mad with anger, exhilaration and electrocution, I taunted, “Turn around, Bright Eyes!”
A young girl screamed “Conor!” and fainted.
Scare-Glow grabbed something and twisted to face me. “Total eclipse of my butt!” he cried, and I only narrowly dodged the unique powersword in his hand.

“I have the power!!!” he yelled and rose the sword above his head in a two-handed grip.

I kicked him in the balls.

Okay, so maybe I’m not proud of it, but it worked. Scare-Glow dropped the powersword and yelped.
I powerpunched him.

Then I powerpunched him again.

Then, once more, I powerpunched him.

Scare-Glow’s lightbulb of a head flickered a bit, then went out, leaving just a sour skull face.
“Skeletor!” hissed the crowd.
For it really was Skeletor after all.

“Hello...is it me you’re looking for?” whispered Skeletor, a single tear in his eye.
I pulled back my fist and powerpunched him as I have never powerpunched any skull-headed freak guy before. There was a great ripping noise, and his head, which was stitched on, tore off and sailed through the air and broke a window which I would have to pay for later.

I lifted the powersword off the ground and pointed it towards the sky.

"I HAVE THE POWER!!!"

Outside, after I had freed the guys and signed autographs, a little girl with a flower ran up to me. I recognized her as the one who had watched as I was stabbed back at the attack on Disposable.
“He-Man! He-Man!” she giggled.

I knocked her down into a puddle and said, “That’s what ya get for gettin’ me stabbed, you crybaby!”

It’s good to be He-Man again.

11 fists| add to the fisting

[28 Oct 2002|11:11pm]
[ mood | anxious ]

“Where the hell is He-Man when you need him?” wondered an irritated Beast-Man as he crawled through the maze-like air ventilation ducts of Castle Skeletor.
Behind him Orko whistled in appreciation.
“Scare-Glow sure keeps these vents clean, and they’re big like in the movies.”
“Something in here smells like ladies!” complained He-Ro for the millionth time. The group stopped as Beast-Man came to a fork in the vents.

“No more talk about smells,” he ordered over his shoulder.
“Dude!” disregarded He-Ro, “it’s you!”
“No, it isn’t,” denied Beast-Man.
Orko began to hum.
“Yes, it is,” continued He-Ro. “You smell like perfume!”
“He’s a fragrant liar,” suggested Orko readily.
“Screw you, Orko, you don’t even have a nose!!!” Beast-Man began crawling quickly ahead.

“You can’t get away! You are wearing perfume!” shouted He-Ro as he shuffled after him. “Admit it!!!”
“That’s the last time I let prostitutes wash my clothing, heh heh,” chuckled Beast-Man lamely.
“Dude, you are wearing girlfume. Now what is it?”

Beast-Man slowed.
“................”, he mumbled.
“What?!” demanded Orko and He-Ro in unison.
“OH MY DOG!!!” screamed Beast-Man as the grate beneath him broke open and he fell deeper into mystery.

Meanwhile, Mer-Man was in his cell sitting in front of his Bondi Blue original iMac and preparing a post for the My Little Pony message boards.

DeAR PoNy FRiEnDs,
My FAvoRiTe PoNy bOOk iS UnDeR THe BiG Top! LoL!!!!
DoES AnYONE KnOW ThE NAmE oF The BAby PoNY WiTH A SaiLBoaT oN iTS BuTT? I HEaRd A SonG oNCE


Mer-Man’s message was interrupted when Beast-Man improbably fell through a hole in the ceiling.

“OH MY DOG!!!” screamed Beast-Man as he descended.

Beast-Man hit the ground with a thud, and Mer-Man waited anxiously as his friend dusted himself off. He had a strong urge to run and hug the furry and teddy bear-like Beast-Man but felt that this might be considered inappropriate, so he satisfied himself with a small hand wave at hip height and a fairly nonchalant “Hey!”

“Hey, Mer-Man,” responded Beast-Man wearily. Orko floated down through the hole in the vent.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Hey,” shouted He-Ro from the vent, “is it safe to come down?”

“What took you guys so long in coming to save me?” asked a teary-eyed Mer-Man.
“We were trying to get tickets for the Interpol show,” admitted Beast-Man.
“That show is like soooooooooooo sold out!” marveled Mer-Man as a flutter pony traipsed across his screen saver. Beast-Man politely looked away.

“Is it safe?” hissed He-Ro again. Everyone ignored him.
“We were gonna wait for He-Man,” began Orko, “but he’s like dead or something. My birthday’s next week, wanna come?”

Before Mer-Man could answer, the door to his cell was kicked open and in hustled Scare-Glow, Trap-Jaw and three assorted stooges.
“Larry, Moe, seize them!!!” commanded Scare-Glow.
“I could have sworn that was going to be an Iggy Pop joke,” wistfulled Mer-Man.

As the thugs held Beast-Man and Orko at gunpoint, a voice from the air vent whispered, “Is it safe yet?”
“Yes! Very safe,” lied Scare-Glow in a wavering falsetto.
‘It’s about time!” humpfed He-Ro as he stuck he head in the room only to retract it as laser beams scorched his hair.

“Crap!” he decided, and began shuffling backwards down the air vent which was now the subject of attention of four turbo laser carbines.
“Don’t worry about him,” Scare-Glow laughed. “The electro-death rodents will see to him. We have much better things to attend to!”

As Beast-Man, Mer-Man and Orko were shepherded out of the room in chains, it became readily apparent that one of the “things” was not going to be the Interpol show!

Elsewhere in the Sticks...

“ALF, qu'avez-vous fait?!”
“Guillaume, pourquoi êtes-vous tellement rapidement irrités?!!”

We interrupt today’s Rerun-En-Francais to bring you this important news bulletin. Evil Lord Scare-Glow has just announced that there will be a public execution of the traitors Beast-Man, Orko, and Mer-Man tomorrow at the red triangle and this will be followed by a short ceremony declaring the skull-faced politician God-Emperor of Eternia. All are invited to join in his happiness.


For the first time in a great while, He-Man spat up his Bitch Flakes.

4 fists| add to the fisting

Prince Adam, the Most Powerful Man in the Universe [27 Sep 2002|12:05pm]
[ mood | tired ]

After several hours of crying and denial I had finally come to grips with the fact that I was now Prince Adam exclusively. But that didn’t mean I was going to wear lavender pants without a fight.
As soon as I was well enough (and I learned, much to my annoyance, that Prince Adam doesn’t heal as fast as He-Man), I asked Alabam-Ra to take me to Target to buy some new clothes.

“So what’s it like being Prince Adam?” she asked as we drove.
“Like He-Man, but kinda lame.”
“You look the same as you did before.”
“Actually, in this form I have a mole, but I can’t show it to you, and I’m also much weaker.”
“Hmmm,” she pondered, “I wonder how other things stack up...”
“Hands on the wheel, young lady.”

Seeing how it was going to be such a big shopping day, Alabam-Ra decided to stop by the bar that she works at on the way to pick up her paycheck.
It was a rundown building with a large sign that said “The Shimmy Shack” out front. The sign looked to have some bullet holes in it but I guess it might have just been moth-eaten.
“Come on in, He-Man,” Alabam-Ra insisted. “ I want to show you off to my friends.”
After a lot of begging and boredom I finally agreed.

It was only about midday, so the bar wasn’t really crowded, but it was very dark with week-old smoke and lack of light bulbs. The handful of regulars who were there were mostly looking at some ladies who were dancing unenthusiastically in discount shark cages. When Alabam-Ra noticed me looking towards the cages she blushed a bit.
“I do that. I’m a dancer. One day I’ll be in that Fame movie.”

A burly and dirty man ambled forward to greet us.
“Why Alabam-Ra, you ain’t never said no nothin’ ‘bout havin’ no sister! An’ such a pretty one, too.”
Alabam-Ra laughed, “Cletus, this ain’t my sister! He’s my friend He-Man--”
Cletus pulled his welcoming hand back in revulsion. A few of the regulars glanced in our direction.
“This is a man!? Looks like some kind of sissy dude!”

“Hold on, Cletus,” shouted a man rising from his table and disturbing a pile of half-eaten walnuts. “Maybe this here sissy dude is English Bob!”
Cletus gave me a hard look. “Is that right, mister? Are you English Bob?”
“No. I’m He-Man.”
“That’s right,” announced Alabam-Ra, “an’ he’s a Prince of Eternia.”
“Prince of Fruitopia, more like,” the redneck who had until recently believed I was English Bob mumbled through a mouthful of walnuts.

“Alabam-Ra, why not get your check?” I suggested, and she and Cletus disappeared into the backroom.
By now a small circle of inbred regulars had formed around me. Cletus’s friend, whose name turned out to be Walnut Joe, was the ringleader.
“Fruitopia, I says,” he laughed for the twelfth time.
“You a prince?” asked another. “So sing ‘When Doves Cry’.”
“Yeah, sing us a song, you’re the piano man.”

I heard a commotion from the back room so I pushed through the crowd which whistled and hooted at me as I walked. As I approached the door to the back room, I heard Cletus say, “C’mon, gimme some sugar, baby!”
I walked in. Alabam-Ra was in his lap. She scurried down and fixed her top when she saw me. She looked sad.
I sighed, and as Cletus stood up, I punched him square on the jaw.
He looked at me with some surprise but with no other damage so I punched him again. This time he ducked. It sucks to be Prince Adam.

As I sailed through the air and crashed down on a table, I regretted not having listened to the Sorceress when she had suggested that I do some Prince Adam exercises.
To help me to my feet, one of the rednecks ran over and planted a pointy-toe boot in my side. This was a big hit with the Hee-Haw crowd.

“We ain’t had this much fun since the mechanical bull gave out!” In a dusty corner I could see the shamed and violated bull ride try and hide itself in the shadows.
I made the mistake of standing up and Cletus was kind enough to punch me in the left eye. As I staggered backwards I tripped over Walnut Joe’s outstretched leg and toppled to the floor in a mixture of blood, glass, and spilled beer.

In a beautifully choreographed move, all the rednecks began doing a Mexican Hat Dance, substituting me for the hat. Whenever I tried to get up, someone would punch, kick or beat me down.

The floor began to seem a very comfortable place. In fact, I kinda felt like taking a nap on it. I closed my eyes and began to fall asleep, lulled by the rhythmic kickings I was receiving. My lack of response had gotten so boring to my attackers that only Cletus and Walnut Joe were left. The others had gone back to their drinks.

“Wake up, He-Man!” screamed a little voice in my head.
“No!” I told it. “Anyway, I’m Prince Adam. Leave me alone.”
“Get up, Alabam-Ra needs you. These guys are gonna kill you and then what do you think will happen?”
“I’ll get to star in ‘Touched By an Angel?’ Screw you, I need a hero this time! Send someone else!!!”
Things in the outside world were lessening up a bit. I was only being kicked by one set of feet now.
I heard from somewhere out in space Cletus saying, “C’mon, girl. I’m-a teach you some respect!” and I heard Alabam-Ra cursin’ and carryin’ on.
“Get up, He-Man” said the little voice again.

I opened one swollen eye. Walnut Joe had pulled up a chair and was now only kicking me once in a while, when he wasn’t pouring beer on me.
“You awake, Princess? I’d love to show you how we treat a Princess of Power down here in The Sticks!” He made a kissy face.
Alabam-Ra was being dragged back into the back room by Cletus. No one else was paying much attention to anything.

“Aw, hell...” I sighed, pulling myself up a bit with the help of a table. If I was going to save people as Prince Adam, I was going to have to do it a little differently.
“What can I do for ya, darlin’?” asked Joe.
“Don’t kill me. I got money! Here, you can have it...” Walnut Joe’s eyes lit up at my words. I stood up on my wobbly legs.
“Give it here.” He extended a shaking alcoholic hand towards me.

In that instant, I lunged forward, grabbed his hand and pulled back two of the fingers ‘til they broke. As Joe let out a howl of pain, I kicked him in the walnuts.
Heads turned. Joe bent double, clutching his pocketful of miracles with broked fingers. I grabbed him by his Skynrd shirt and rammed his face into the jukebox, which shattered and kicked into a rousing rendition of “The Night That Minnie Timperley Died.”

Cletus let go of Alabam-Ra and barreled straight at me like a bull. As he came, I swiped a longnecked beer bottle off a table and screaming, “I HAVE THE POWER!” smashed it across his face. He fell back, grabbing his nose and screaming.

By this point all the rest of F Troop had gotten up and were rushing me.
The first to arrive got the rest of my broken bottle driven into the bit of stomach that hung over his belt. I’m sure it was only a flesh wound, but it bled lots.
Someone landed a punch on me while I was stabbing the ectomorph, and I took it and returned it with interest in the form of a headbutt.
Quickly I discovered that my martial arts moves were all still there - they just felt a bit rusty and maybe better suited to a better body. But I really didn’t have time for preferences at that point. I tossed a chair into one guy’s legs as he ran at me and, as he sprawled out on the floor, I brought a mean axe kick down into the base of his spine.

I was punched and buffeted so much that I lost count, but I refused to fall down.
“I’m He-Man,” I roared, “the meanest sonofabitch in the universe!” And after a few broken arms and ribs the rednecks were starting to believe me.
I lifted a table above my head and used it to crushed two midget-like hicks ‘til all that was left of them was some belt buckles and bits of alfalfa.

“He-Man, look out!!!” cried Alabam-Ra.
I turned to see Cletus standing behind the bar with a laser carbine. His face was a mess of cuts and bruises.
“Get out!” he hissed. “Both of ya, get out, an’ if I ever see either of ya agin, I’ll kill ya.”

I looked around. The place was trashed and all the furniture and patrons lay broken on the floor. Luckily the dancers were unhurt thanks to the shark cages.
“Let’s go, Alabam-Ra.” I turned on my heel and walked out the door, pausing only to tell the survivors, “That’s how we handle things back in Fruitopia.”

We both got outside without being back-shot, and I asked Alabam-Ra if she had gotten her check, and she laughed and showed me a bag of money she had stolen along with it. I couldn’t really make her put it back, what with Cletus’s threat and the fact that she admitted to having set fire to the back room during the fight.
“That’ll be a lesson to me, sure!” she said as she started the ignition. “Never work for relatives!”

6 fists| add to the fisting

Where’s My Vest [21 Sep 2002|10:11pm]
[ mood | cynical ]

I fell asleep.

“Hello, He-Man!”
“Hi! Who are you again?”
There was a large translucent blue skull floating in front of me. So many skulls in my life, I thought.

“Don’t you remember?” The skull looked hurt. “I’m the Spirit of Grayskull!!!”
“Oh, shouldn’t you be gray in that case? Your name is still lame. Don’t you have a real one like Dave or Moss-Man?”
“No. Just the Spirit of Grayskull.” I started walking through the cartoon landscape of my mind, but the skull followed me.
“Any chance of you turning into She-Ra and being naked?”
“No. But I could become Ted Kennedy. It’s just a power I had.” The skull shrugged shoulderlessly.

“What did you want anyway?”
“I’m here to warn you. Something terrible is about to happen. You know that Scare-Glow has entered into Castle Grayskull with your powersword, right?”
“What?! And here I was thinking he was carrying a loaf of bread.”
“There’s no need to be a bitch about it. Lots of other people would be happy to have me in their dreams.

[Error: Irreparable invalid markup ('<lj-user=>') in entry. Owner must fix manually. Raw contents below.]

I fell asleep.

“Hello, He-Man!”
“Hi! Who are you again?”
There was a large translucent blue skull floating in front of me. So many skulls in my life, I thought.

“Don’t you remember?” The skull looked hurt. “I’m the Spirit of Grayskull!!!”
“Oh, shouldn’t you be gray in that case? Your name is still lame. Don’t you have a real one like Dave or Moss-Man?”
“No. Just the Spirit of Grayskull.” I started walking through the cartoon landscape of my mind, but the skull followed me.
“Any chance of you turning into She-Ra and being naked?”
“No. But I could become Ted Kennedy. It’s just a power I had.” The skull shrugged shoulderlessly.

“What did you want anyway?”
“I’m here to warn you. Something terrible is about to happen. You know that Scare-Glow has entered into Castle Grayskull with your powersword, right?”
“What?! And here I was thinking he was carrying a loaf of bread.”
“There’s no need to be a bitch about it. Lots of other people would be happy to have me in their dreams. <lj-user= “madrain”>, for instance.”

I turned to face the big shimmery pain in the ass but he had been replaced with an image of Castle Grayskull itself. I saw Scare-Glow striding into the throne room and taking out the sword.
“What’s he doing?” I asked involuntarily.
“He’s replacing you.”
“He’s really Skeletor, isn’t he?”
“Yes. Evil-Lyn brought him back using some spells she found in the Tomb of the Monarchs.”
“Sounds allergenic. What do you mean replacing me?”
“Watch!”

Scare-Glow lifted the powersword above his head and cried, as I have countless times, “By the Power of Grayskull!”
“Can’t you stop him?” I asked the Spirit.
‘No. I am under his command now, but I thought I should warn you about it.”

“Thanks,” I said, and my knees buckled as all the superhero strength drained out of me.
I heard Scare-Glow scream triumphantly and the Spirit of Grayskull whisper, “Goodbye, He-Man.” And then I was back in the bed in Mountain-Man’s cabin.

I felt terrible and it took all the strength I had left to peel back the bedcovers. Underneath I saw that I was wearing lavender pants and I was drenched in sweat. Not a pretty combination.

“Hello, Prince Adam,” I sighed, and swung my legs out of bed.
7 fists| add to the fisting

Ask He-Man [20 Sep 2002|03:37pm]
[ mood | irritated ]

“Buddy, mon Dieu! Qu’avez-vous fait?”
“Charles, je ne sais pas. Les pamplemousses sont partout!”


There was a knock at the door, so I clicked off the TV.
“Are you awake?” It was Alabam-Ra.
“No.” She didn’t believe me and came in anyhow.
“How y’all feelin’?” she asked, popping up on the bed/couch.
“Like I’ve been stabbed in the back.”
“Did a girl do you wrong?”
“Nah, a glowing skeleton guy. What can I do for you, Alabam-Ra?”
“I’s just thinkin’ about how you’re from Eternia City, an’ I always wanted to go to Eternia City and I almost would have once if our cheerleadin’ team had made the finals, but it didn’t because Stacey Jorgensen is such a stuck-up bitch that even her own mama won’t let her in the house at might what with after she stole that money to buy the kangaroo baby she said she found.”
I clicked the TV back on.

“So...you want to go to Eternia City with me?”
“Yes!”
“No.”
“Why not?!” Alabam-Ra pouted and tried to look hurt. “Is it ‘cause I’m young? I may be in years but I’m a whole lot grown up!”
“I’m sure you are, if men’s rooms walls are to be believed.”
Alabam-Ra crept further up the covers towards me. I sighed. One of her fake eyelashes was half hanging down. She tried to push it back up while she pretended to cry.

“You’re just like all men. You use and take what you want and then you leave a girl on her own...” She peered up to gauge my reaction, and then continued. “I could be good for you. I have talent. I just need an opportunity to prove myself.”
“How about...no.”

She discarded the eyelash and tried another tact.
“I can be real, real good to you. It would be worth it. I can be both sassy and slutty. Ask my uncle Orville.”
For a moment, the once benevolent image of Orville Redenbacher, now in a rutting heat, appeared in my mind. I turned my face to the wall in disgust.
“No. You can stay here. This is where you belong.” Eternia’s for people, I almost added.

Just then there was a knock at the door and Scooter appeared. Alabam-Ra got up in a huff and sauntered out of the room hippily. Scooter watched his sister’s egress (almost said ass) with near-amorous devotion.

“He-Man?”
“That’s me. You can’t come to Eternia City.”
“Uh...I don’t want to...” Scooter stammered.
“Well, you can’t have a gun or touch my muscles either.”
“Okay.”
“Repeat after me: ‘No gun, no muscle touching’.”
“No gun, no muscle touching.”
“Good enough, now what do you want?”

Scooter sat down on the bed and wiggled himself good and hard into the warm spot his sister had just vacated.
“He-Man, did you never love a woman? Not in a Bryan Adams way.”
“Did I ever love a woman? Yes, quite a few...this isn’t a question about those ‘Moan Zones’ you read about in Cosmo, is it?”
“Nossir, I just wanted your advice on romancin’ the lady of my dreams.”
“Buy her some false teeth,” I muttered quietly. “Who is this lucky lady?”

“Well, she’s beautiful and sweet and honest and I hear tell she’s still almost a virgin.” Scooter must have been about 8 years old. “I love her dearly, and one day when I become a riverboat gamblin’ man I will surely do right by her and make her my wife.”
“Glad to see you got it all figured out. When’s M*A*S*H come on?”
“Only thing is, I don’t know if she loves me.”
“I’m sure she does. Best way to find out is to slip her some tongue.”
“How do I do that?!”
“I’m not showing you! Ask your gym teacher.”

“So I should tell her how I feel?”
“Sure, can’t hurt unless she gouges you in the eye. Who is the lucky lady?”
Here he giggled and blushed. He whispered a name, but I couldn’t hear him at first, so I made him whisper it a bit louder.
“Your sister?!!!”

Scooter bobbed his head up and down innocently. I turned my face up to heaven and hoped there was still time.
“Listen to me now, Scooter, and listen good. Sister lovin’, much like father rapin’, is frowned upon by society. Only sick, sick, weird, sick people want to get wild with their siblings. It just isn’t done. No! Alabam-Ra is off limits for you completely.”
Tears welled up in the young pervert’s eyes.
“What you need, “I continued, “is another girl. Any girl to take your mind of Alabam-Ra. Myself, I love She-Ra. That’s cool. That’s hot. That’s okay, ya see? Loving your sister, though, is just wrong.”
“Could I love She-Ra?”
“Don’t be stupid, you wouldn’t have a shot. She’s all over me. No. You need a different girl who isn’t related to you.”
“But I’m related to everyone in town! Wait, do nuns count?”
“Depends on the nun. Are you sure there isn’t anyone?”
“Well...There’s Mad Mable. We call her Mad because she’s insane. She has one eye that works and the other is made of a bottle cap.”

“Well, there ya go. Mad Mable sounds real nice. Why don’t you try to love her?”
Scooter closed his eyes and squinted with concentration. Then he shook his head back and forth real fast with obvious mental effort.
“No!” he announced. “Can’t love her.”
“Come on! Give Mable a chance. Isn’t there anything you like about her?”
Scooter thought again for a good long while.
“Well, she wears the same pants.”
“Same pants as you?”
“No, she wears her own pants, the same pants, every day. I like that, I guess.”
“Well, there you go! Write Mable a poem that compliments her pants. She’ll love you in no time!”
Scooter eagerly grabbed a pen and ran out the door.

I hardly had time to watch Alan Alda walk into the tent when Mountain-Man slipped into my room.
“Do you want advice about love?” I asked wearily.
“No. I was just wondering if you had some LJ activation codes?”
Before I got to bed, Mrs. Man came in and talked to me about poisons that leave no trace when used correctly. Sometimes the people part of being a hero is harder than the punching part.

4 fists| add to the fisting

A Whole Passel o’ Trouble [19 Sep 2002|06:03pm]
[ mood | uncomfortable ]

Mountain-Man licked his lips and stared at me with a strange intensity.
“Oh, Father! Shouldn’t we be sure he’s dead yet?” asked Mrs. Man, wringing her hands.
“He’s dead enough. An’ meat tastes better fresh.” He leaned over to taste my nose.

“You pervy face-eating freak!” I yelled, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and tossing him across the room. Mountain-Man moaned and his wife let out a shrill scream.
“Lord, he’s alive!”
“Sir,” began Mountain-Man, trying to reassemble his dignity, “you was shot, and I have medicced you back to health. Kindly do not throw me around my own home.”
“I was stabbed,” I corrected. “And you tried to eat me.”
“Unh-uh,” protested a small boy. “You was shot. We spent near a whole night lookin’ to take out the bullet with these.” He waved a pair of barbecue tongs at me. “We din’t find it though.”
“Scooter! I tol’ you to shut up! Now shut!!!” chided Mrs. Man lovingly.

I was in a small cabiny-like place. Most of the furniture looked homemade. Even the TV was built out of cereal boxes. Mountain-Man and Scooter were both only wearing overalls, though Mountain-Man complimented this with a beaten-up straw hat which showed his superiority. Mrs. Man was dressed like a couch.

“What time is it? I asked, brushing off some fleas and mice.
“Half-past the shiny triangle. Where do you come from, Mister?”
“From Eternia City. Where am I?”
“Whooooooo hooooo! Eternia City?! You musta walked all night long to get here. You’ve slipped clear over the border. This here’s The Sticks.”

I shuddered inwardly. All good Eternian children are told stories about The Sticks.
“Isn’t this where everyone marries his sister and stuff?”
Mrs. Man blushed, and she and Mountain-Man exchanged a look of marital bliss.

“Well, sir,” blustered my hick host, “you must be hungrier than a radioactive death tomcat what’s raisin’ eight young on its back.”
“I reckon so,” I answered honestly.

As Mountain-Man set to work preparing his “vittles”, the door of the shack blew open and a teenage girl in inappropriate shorts came in stared at everyone, sighed in disgust, and sat down on a barrel.

“Alabam-Ra! What are you doin’ a-sulkin’ an’ sighin’ in front of company?” demanded Mrs. Man, scandalized.
“Hmphh,” answered Alabam-Ra smartly. “Who’s company? I thought that fella was lunch.”
Mountain-Man coughed loudly into the vittles.

“Oh, merciful heavens! Are you wearin’ lipstick again like some tarted-up whore Jezebel on Melrose Place?!” In truth it looked more like the lipstick had had some girl smudged onto it. There was quite a bit. Alabam-Ra’s new lips reached the bottom of her nose. “How will you ever get a man?”

“Same way you got dad, no doubt!” she yelped, flopping around more in the chair. At her answer, Scooter had made himself scarce, not before whispering to me that “she got lices.”

“This gentleman,” continued the doting mother, “is from Eternia City, an’ he only wants to see nice young ladies while he stays with us an’ ‘til he gets his bullet removed.”
“Eternia City?!” screamed Alabam-Ra, “But I always wanted to go there an’ live like a big movie star. Like She-Ra or Evil-Lyn or Teela...”
I groaned loudly. Everyone assumed it was because of my injury.
“What’s your name?” asked Alabam-Ra with childlike innocence.
“He-Man,” I told her.
Mountain-Man glanced up from his cooking. “Could be we’re related.”

“Actually,” I asked, pulling myself into a sitting position, “I need to know what’s happening in Eternia. Do you get any news stations on your TV?”

“Sure,” said Alabam-Ra friendily. “We get Cajun, Mountain, and Country channels. Here!”

The set clicked onto what I must assume was a Cajun channel. As Alabam-Ra jiggled the rabbit ears I could hear:

Charles en charge de nos jours et nos nuits...

She turned the knob, which would have been illegal in most civilized countries, and the news flickered on.

“Channel 7 News here. We are outside Castle Grayskull on this fine day. The Dark Lord Scare-Glow has just approached the Jawbridge of this once hallowed hall of heroes and is gesturing towards it with what seems to be a powersword. Of course, were he able to get into to Castle Grayskull, he would be able to make himself the most powerful man in the universe using its terrible secrets. Oh, look! The gate is coming down. Yes, Scare-Glow is crossing the bridge--” Click.

“I hate the news,” declared Alabam-Ra with what she hoped was a sexy pout. She had changed it to a channel playing Family Feud instead. “Don’t you think Louie Anderson was the best host?” she asked, edging over to me on the bed.

“I’m sorry, I’d better get back to looking for that bullet,” I told her.

12 fists| add to the fisting

Lazarus [18 Sep 2002|08:00pm]
[ mood | exhausted ]

Man, well, that hurt. Can’t even get killed right! Okay, okay, let’s stand up. One! Two! Three! Stand!!! Whoa! Lost a lot of blood there. Am I standing? No, still lying down. One more time...stand! I’m up. Quick He-Inventory: Head? Check. Boots? Check. Powersword? Uhhhhhhh...skip that one. Fur shorts? Priceless. I’d better start walking. Which way? Frontwards looks good. That backstabbin’ glowworm almost took me out! Did you hear that, Mermista? I almost died too. Then we would have made a fine couple, wouldn’t we? I don’t believe any of that metaphysical crap Crabby tried to pull on me. You’re dead, honey. Wow, I’m walking just like a toddler. I wonder if you can buy Under-Roos anywhere these days? Dead, dead, dead with tie-dyed shirts and a van full of 40-year-old pot smoke. That dead. Actually, walking like this is kinda fun. I feel a little floaty. Look! I’m walking on the moon! I’m a Moonwalker. What a lame video game that was. I know, I know...I tried to get killed but I screwed up at that too. Or maybe Scare-Glow screwed it up. Last time I get murdered by an amateur. That toad is probably conference calling all three of his friends and telling them how he iced the most powerful man in the universe. Like hell you did, Skull-Boy! I’m right here...lost...in the Eternian wilderness...and bleeding. This bites! Would you like to sign up for a Gap card? Mermista’s dead, Doggor’s dead, Randor’s dead! Mekaneck’s dead too, but who cares? Don’t be so gloomy, He-Man. Now that’s a bad sign. Hold on, I have to break this window. Conversing with yourself is unhealthy. You’ll go blind. Ha ha, so funny I forgot to laugh. Hey, it wasn’t so bad for a guy who’s bleeding to death here. No, I guess you’re right. Yeah, yeah, well, now that we got that settled, I’ll need a name for you if we are going to keep talking. How about Mer-Man? No, he’s got a name. Hey! A bed!!! Who left this here? Anyway, you were saying? You may call me the Spirit of Grayskull. Like the cartoon horse movie? No, like the castle. I’m sorry, sir, but that’s a pretty gay name and I have to take a little nap. Bye...

“Oh, Sweet Lord, Mother, there is a man in our bed!”
“I know, Father. Please don’t let it be that Robert Downey, Jr. again!”
“He looks like Goldilocks, Paw! But with more blood...”
“Shut up, Scooter, an’ get the shovel. At least we’s gonna have some eatin’ tonight!”

6 fists| add to the fisting

Down Came the Rain [17 Sep 2002|11:02pm]
[ mood | listless ]

“That’s it! The end!” wheezes Eldor into his empty cup. “No more He-Man. Mr. Kurtz, he dead.”
Eldor laughs a toothless laugh and sinks beneath the weight of a series of hacking coughs. Next time, you tell yourself, the closest I get to an LJ personality will be through pjammer’s bookproject.
“He’s dead,” Eldor sobs. “Dead!”

You give him a few moments to blow his nose on his sleeve and gather his wits, then you buy him another drink, marvelling amorally at how the liquor gives life to the story while destroying the storyteller. Oh well, in vino veritas.

“Where was I?” asks Eldor, rubbing his bloodshot eyes.
“He-Man had just been killed by Scare-Glow,” you remind him.
“Oh, yes...”
And the dusty wheels of Eldor’s febrile mind, now greased by a taste of the pure, turn and turn once more.


With a sigh, Mer-Man lay down his dog-eared copy of the Complete Plays of Tennessee Williams and sat up on his cot. The room of his imprisonment was reasonably furnished for a cell, as would befit the stature of its sole inhabitant. It was lifeless, though. What it needed were some goldfish.

The Prime Minister of Eternia, after kicking his feet aimlessly, got up and went over to his desk. Pulling out a new piece of parchment and choosing a quill, he set to work on a letter he now knew by heart, having written it some 800 times since his captivity had begun.

Dear He-Man,

Hey, how are you? I am good, but Scare-Glow has me locked up in the highest tower of Castle Skeletor. Please come save me. Have you heard the new Spoon album?

Hey,
Mer-Man
Prime Minister and friend


And for the 800th time he folded the paper into a little origami swan and tossed it gently out the window, where it was carried by the wind for who knows how many miles.

He thought of his situation, of how he was being forced to betray his beliefs, and of how he wished he could be strong enough to tell Scare-Glow that he would rather die than abuse his power, but he wasn’t. He was just a sniffler like they all said, except he was now Prime Minister.

“That’s it!” he cried. “I won’t sign my letters ‘Prime Minister’ anymore. I’m going to sign ‘A. Sniffler’!” He found this new resolve to be comforting and he began on another letter.

Dear Annie Lennox,

I really enjoyed your Diva album. Do you think Eurythmics will get back together?


As his quill scratched away, he heard something from outside that distracted him. It was like a chorus of angry voices. He rose and walked out onto his balcony for a better look.

Far, far down at the foot of the castle were crowds of people. So small were they from this height that they looked like little more than clusters of feeder fish.
It was a protest, realized Mer-Man with terror. Clearly these people didn’t know what they were dealing with.

End roadwork now!!!
End roadwork now!!!
End roadwork now!!!


they chanted, and their voices rose up to the very spires of Castle Skeletor. Inside the keep itself things were very still. Scare-Glow had still not returned from his excursion. Maybe, hoped Mer-Man, they will let them just leave.
Then he saw the castle’s gun emplacements turning towards the protesters.

Mer-Man surveyed the crowd. Tears streamed down his face.

End roadwork now!!!
End roadwork now!!!
End roadwork now!!!


As if in sympathy with his tears, the heavens themselves opened and a great rain fell down on Mer-Man as he stood helpless in horror.

The weather drowned out the voices and the sounds of gunfire and sizzled as it splashed on cooling gun muzzles.

Miles away, this same rain fell on a battlefield that was once a tiny city. In this place devoid of life and warmth, the life-giving rain had little effect except to cause one corpse to open its eyes and reach for a powersword that was no longer there.

14 fists| add to the fisting

A Man with a Sword [16 Sep 2002|08:12pm]
[ mood | gloomy ]

Of the Massacre at Disposable, there were but a handful of survivors. One was a small girl, maybe six or seven.

She watched as the mercenaries crashed like a wave against the pitiful defenders. Scare-Glow stood behind watching and waiting as his men poured out around him like a roiling storm of blades and flame.

The first attack was fast and brutal. He-Man met the oncoming horde unarmed. He struck and kicked and grappled every man that came within his mighty reach. The child’s eyes noticed that often in the fiercer moments his hand would be drawn towards the hilt of his powersword only to be pulled away before he touched it. The enemies fell back and reformed almost instantly.

He-Man powerpunched a barbarian and appropriated the thug’s great-axe which he ran like a scythe through the ranks of men, reaping a bloody harvest. Sheer numbers allowed the marauders to push him back and gain the main square. Houses and buildings were put to the torch and bodies were trampled by retreating and advancing forces.

The men and women and even the children of Disposable fought bravely, but futilely. What had begun as the first line of defense rapidly became the rearguard for a chaotic retreat.
The wounded crawled or dragged themselves away from the carnage that surrounded He-Man. His double-headed axe had been chipped and finally shattered. But still he did not draw his sword.
The townsfolk were in a full route but He-Man stood his ground and, casting a few protective glances over his shoulder, blocked the invading army’s pursuit of them.

By now the thieves and cutthroats were terrified of him. Singlehandedly he had laid down over a quarter of their number. They backed away and circled like angry and frightened dogs.
He held no weapon and he needed none.
Then he saw her.

In all the commotion a young girl, six or seven years old, as we have said, was standing in the doorway of a burning building. She had become separated from her family and had stood as she had been instructed in the last place someone had seen her. She intended to keep on standing there until she was found and taken home.

He-Man gave the mercenaries an insolent glance, daring them to move closer to him. Then he turned his back on his foes and walked towards the little girl.
Something about her must have struck him as familiar, or maybe he was remembering something or someone from long ago, because he smiled a sad little smile and patted her on the head.

From where she was, the little girl watched a shadow rise up behind He-Man and blot out the sun itself. It was the figure of a cloaked man with a glowing skull face. She could see that in one hand he held a lance and in the other a short sword with a skull set in its guard. The sword was made of a dull black steel, and the skeleton man drove it into He-Man’s back.

He-Man’s hand slid off of her little head and he crashed down to his knees before toppling over beside her. She seemed to hear him say something, a word, a laugh, a name...

Nermtisa.

9 fists| add to the fisting

Population 113 [15 Sep 2002|11:18pm]
[ mood | worried ]

Scare-Glow’s army moved faster than Nick Nolte at a wine-tasting event. By late afternoon we were deep into the Eternian countryside, passing farms, prairie dogs and Amish people.
Scare-Glow had one very special target in mind to vent his wrath upon: “The City of Disposable, population 112”.
As the walled city popped up on the horizon, I called to Scary (we were already referring to each other with Spice Girl nicknames) and suggested that I ride on ahead and announce him formally while at the same time demanding the unconditional surrender of our enemies. He said, “Sure, Baby!” and I was off like a shot.

At this point I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. If I blew my cover with Scare-Glow, how would I be able to find and save Mer-Man? On the other hand, was I going to stand by and even help as a city of innocent people was destroyed?
I reigned in my horse before the gates.

“You there, people of Disposable! Open your gates!!!” I cried.
“No!” came the response.
“Dudes!” I added forcefully. “Open the damn gates!”
“Who are you?”
“I’m a lone hero who wishes to save you from destruction at the hands of Scare-Glow’s marauding army.”
There was silence for a long time, then: “Why are you wearing an eyepatch?”

As I explained that I was in disguise and actually the mighty He-Man, precious bits of triangle passed by. Finally they made me prove who I was by having me twirl my sword a lot, no matter how much I tried to explain that Twirly-Sword was the other guy. At least they let me in without making me transform into a 14-year-old boy.

By the time I rode into the city square, all the citizens had assembled.
“What can we do, He-Man?!” begged a village elder.
“There is only one option open to you. The women and children must be sent up to those mountains outside the city, there to hide in tunnels. Meanwhile, the men shall fight Scare-Glow’s army of paid killers and pay a dear price for the safety of their loved ones. Now, if you’ll all pick up a rake, I can show you how to become an army of farmers.”

At this there was much grumbling. Finally one voice complained, “How come the women don’t have to fight? Why do the men?”
“‘Cause that’s the manly thing to do,” I answered. I was booed.
“Sexist dog! There’s no such thing as ‘manly’! The women should fight too.” There was much discussion of this point and I glanced at my watch nervously.
“Okay,” I allowed, “the women will fight too. Now will someone get the children out of here, and everyone else get a rake.”
“No!” came the firm refusal. “Are you saying that we should die so that our snivelling brats can live?! Have you seen college tuition prices? We have to put up with enough of their Gameboy crap as it is! Give them rakes and let them fight!!!”

With that, all the adults handed farming tools to the kids and took off heels and elbows for the mountain caves.
“Well, kids,” I sighed, “this is how you hold a rake...”
They began to cry.

When the army of killer mercenaries arrived it was almost a relief. I had changed two diapers and had also been forced to repeatedly try my hand at a George W. impression without great success.

Scare-Glow surveyed the scene appreciatively. “Wow, you took the whole city! Let’s get the kids chained up and drag them back to the castle where they can be alternately sacrificed or used as slave labor.”
A little girl of about six shook her rake at Scare-Glow and he booted her in the face.

“Plans have changed,” I announced. “No one is going anywhere in slavery, and none of you are leaving here alive.”
Scare-Glow looked at me with deep hurt in his eyes. Slowly he asked, “What you talkin’ about, Willis?”
I threw my eyepatch onto the ground.
“My name is He-Man. I’m the protector of these children, and you won’t have them.”

“That’s it!” screamed Scare-Glow, dismounting. “You are out of the Secret Spice Girls Club!”

The air around him shimmered and he raised his dark lance heavenward. Lightning split the sky.
“Time to die, He-Man.”

8 fists| add to the fisting

Will Kill for Food [14 Sep 2002|03:09pm]
[ mood | energetic ]

I waited for dawn and strode up to the gates of Castle Skeletor.
“Whaddya want?” challenged the captain of the guards.
“I hear you’re hiring mercenary scum,” I replied cooly.
“Yeah. So?”
“So, I’m scum.”

The portcullis was raised and I was shown inside. The outer keep was a large affair with stables, an armoury and a Starbucks.
“They’re hirin’ over there.” My guide gestured towards a table that wouldn’t have been out of place at a blood drive. I adjusted my eye patch and approached with cagey glances to my left and right.

There was a short line of would-be villains in front of the table. As I got to the end, a whitish womanly man a black outfit with lots of silver buckles stomped past me muttering, “You know I'm bad! I'm bad - come on!!! Woo!”
I ignored him and waited for my turn.

The grizzled war veteran at the table didn’t even look up from his clipboard.
“Name?”
“Adam...the Bad.”
‘Previous work experience?”
“Killer for hire, thief, short-order cook, northern barbarian and looter.”
“Ever served with Umbi Two-Fingers?”
“Nope, never had the privilege.”
I had assumed that in a case like this honesty would be the best policy, but I saw the interviewer dude’s pen sliding towards the “application rejected” box.
“Oh wait, did you say ‘served with Umbi’?! I thought you asked if I had slept with Umbi! Ha! Yeah, I served with him all the time. Taught me everything I know. Never slept with him though, and that is somethin’ that not many can say, mind you. That Umbi! Hands like an nymphomaniacal octopus.”

The old soldier got up and went to confer with his pals. They came back in a group and formed a circle around me.
The smallest, greasiest one pointed to my eye patch and said, “Wot’s wif dat?”
“Oh, it’s only for reading,” I answered smartly.
“So, you served with Umbi?” asked a scarred melon-headed freak lippily.
“Is your mom a cheap whore?” I rejoined.
“I say we give him a florin and make him our sweet boy,” suggested one lascivious wag.

“Look, boys,” I sighed, “I think you’re wasting my time. I want 20 grand a year plus commission or I’m gonna go hire on with the Pirates of Blackwater down the street. Oh, and before I go, I’m gonna kill the lot of you for smelling so bad.”

“Heh,” laughed Melonhead, and he went for his sword. When his hand got there, he was surprised to find nothing but air. That was because an instant earlier I had snatched it from his scabbard and cut his nose off. The nose hit the floor with a sound that’s not unlike the one made by an ear hitting the floor, only this one is slightly more nasal.
I then handily dispatched Mr. Sweet Boy and amputated someone’s pegleg.

They all leapt back and cried out. More armed guards came running over to surround me.
“I think now I’ll want 25 grand a year,” I drawled.
The brigands eyed me in astonished and cowed fury.
“Done!” cried Grizzly Beard, my original interviewer. “You shall have your money. Please just don’t kill anyone else.”
“Sure,” I grinned, looking at Melonhead, who was rolling on the ground, his face in his hands. “No skin off my nose.”

Just then a big Ricola horn was blown and all the mercenaries lined up in ranks. I was pushed to the front, where I snapped to attention.
An apelike shuffling heralded the appearance of my old chum Trap-Jaw. He looked the army up and down.
“My Lord Scare-Glow will ride forth tonight with his host. His glorious vengeance shall be felt on those dogs who have tithed neither men nor money to the State Construction Project. Prepare yourselves to commit the bloodiest acts of murder and intrigue. We ride!”

Wonderful, I thought, now I can stay behind as the army pulls out and search the castle for Mer-Man at my convenience!

Just then a figure in ancient and rotted robes walked quickly out into the courtyard. His face was that of a glowing skull. He carried a dark lance that was etched with runes and crackled with a faint electricity. He passed an eye over the troops, but his gaze froze on me.

“You there,” he snarled, “The big blond one.”
I pointed at my own chest and mouthed an unbelieving “me?”
“Yes, you! You will be my standard banner. Mount up beside me!”

Scare-Glow swung himself into the saddle of his massive stone horse and I hopped onto a perky lil’ roan next to him. Trap-Jaw handed me the flag with a look of bitter resignation in his eyes.
“Jealous much?” I whispered.

Before he could answer we were off. Mer-Man was still somewhere in the halls of Castle Skeletor and I was riding in the vanguard of Scare-Glow’s army.

5 fists| add to the fisting

Homecoming [13 Sep 2002|11:42pm]
[ mood | restless ]

It was night. A cab pulled up to the curb in Eternia’s City Centre.
The lone passenger got out, paid his fare, and examined his surroundings with a wistful sigh.
The cab disappeared into the night, leaving only a cloud of dust floating in the red brake-light haze.
Belatedly, its former occupant shouted, “Smell you later!” but when he realized no one had heard, he began to walk.

It wasn’t long before he came upon an unusual scene. The entire roadway was illuminated by hundreds of flood lights, and army of of workers were hammering down flagstones and repaving the streets.
“This is madness, if they’re getting union rates,” mumbled the weary observer.
“Hey, you there!”

A man with an outdated laser rifle rushed up to the stranger.
“Haven’t you ever seen roadwork before? Who are you?”
The recent arrival pulled the hood of his cloak tighter around his face.
“Hi! I’m Prince Adam!”
The man with the gun screamed.
‘Damn, I mean, I’m...Freddie Prinze, Jr.”
A crowd of nearby teenage girls screamed.
“Crap, I’m Adam! No first name, last name or title, okay? I’m just regular Adam. Sheesh!”

The rifleman weighed these words for a moment.
“Well, Adam, I am Fore-Man, and this is my worksite. How can we help you here?”

Adam let his hood slip down to reveal his blonde hair and hardened jawline.
“What a prodigious sculpt,” thought Fore-Man to himself in wonderment.

“Fore-Man, long have I enjoyed your grill. Now I find myself once more in Eternia City after many years absence. Some things I recognize, others seem foreign to me. Will you be my guide tonight and re-introduce me to a city I once loved?”
Adam’s words were so sincerely delivered and held such gravity that Fore-Man was naturally overcome.
“I would be honored to, Prince Adam...no, please allow me to address you that way. If you are not a prince, then you should be. Imagine, our last prince wore purple tights!”
“Lavender,” whispered Adam to the wind.

They walked together along the perimeter of the construction site.
“Why all this late-night activity?” asked Adam innocently.
“To meet the demands of our lord, Scare-Glow.”
“Scare-Glow? I had heard that Mer-Man was the enlightened ruler of Free Eternia.”
“‘Tis true, he was, and a good leader too, if a bit wet-faced. But then Scare-Glow came. He was a dark wizard from out the wastes. His army took the city and Mer-Man declared the enchanter to be God-Emperor of Eternia. The lawful government has been dissolved and replaced by his crazy glow-in-the-dark tyranny.”
“Hmmm,” was all Adam had to say.

“Now Scare-Glow has decided to show that his palace is the heart of all power, so he makes us build roads spreading out from it. A web, more like, with his Spiderness at the center!” Fore-Man spat on the ground with distaste.
“Scare-Glow’s palace?”
“Yes, we are almost to it.”

The two men walked on in silence, one lost in his own thoughts, the other in a half-remembered city.
Suddenly out of the night before them loomed a huge tower and keep. It was built out of faintly luminescent stones and seemed to throb in the near-light of the lamps.
“Castle Skeletor!” announced Fore-Man gloomily. “One day it was the City Tennis Courts, and the next an evil palace had been thrown down on the spot, as if by magic or the sweaty hand of a dark god!”

Adam could see that all around Castle Skeletor were more construction teams, all building a maze of interconnecting roads which spread like rot from the center.
“The work is progressing quickly.”
Fore-Man looked hard at Adam. “And so it needs to. Every day Scare-Glow will execute an honest Eternian lad or lass ‘til its finished.”

“Is there no hope of salvation?” Beneath his cloak Adam’s fingers played on the hilt of his sword (no, not in that way).
“No, my friend, no salvation. There are no heroes left in Eternia.”

The two had made it as close as they could to the tainted walls of the castle. They approached some workers at a bonfire and warmed theie hands against the chill night air.
“Who are all those men who move in and out of the castle gate?”
Fore-Man’s eyes blazed. “Scum! Interlopers and mercenaries from the north. More arrive with each day. Some are still vengeful after the war with Randor that laid them low, others live only for destruction and micro-brew beers. They are the lamest of the lame!!!”
“Hmmmm,” Adam hummed again. “I think I’d like to give that castle a closer look.”
The workers around the fire couldn’t help but hear his intention, and scrutinized his face in shocked wonder. He seemed calm, perhaps even bored.

“No, Prince Adam, I’m afraid that you cannot do. No goodly people enter...or leave Castle Skeletor. Any attempt is met with death or worse. Stay here with me! You are a sturdy young man, you could do good work on the roads. Forget Castle Skeletor, it can only bring doom to you.”

“You were wrong earlier, Fore-Man. As long as I live, Eternia will not be without a hero.”
“As long as you live,” repeated Fore-Man dumbly.
Prince Adam’s eyes burned with reflected firelight.

Scare-Glow peered down from the highest window of Castle Skeletor’s tower and stared fixedly at a dot of a man who was warming his hands and conversing with workers by a bonfire.
“So!” he breathed. “You’ve come.”

15 fists| add to the fisting

Mind the Gap [12 Sep 2002|04:37pm]
[ mood | angry ]

“Good morning, Courtney!”
“Morning, He-Man!”
“Morning, Brittney!”
‘Hey, He-Man!”

I put on my Gap name pin and got ready to punch in.
“Hi, He-Man!”
“Uh, yeah, Chad. Hi.”
“Big day today, right, He?” asked Chad the manager, punching my arm.
“That’s right!” I answered, diplomatically omitting the “you Feldman-faced son of a bitch!!!”
I got down to folding XXL clearance shirts.

The repetitive nature of my work allowed me to think on the events of yesterday, of Beast-Man’s and Orko’s appeal for help. And there was that new guy too, but he struck me as a bit of a fancy-pants.
Sometimes I did kind of miss being a superhero. I wasn’t allowed to powerpunch customers, no matter how lame they got or how many pairs of capris they tried on.
The job was boring but it paid, and maybe it was the boring bit that was some of the appeal. No one was relying on me for anything more than a tobacco-colored suede jacket in size XS. Nobody died at the Gap. Well, not often.
But, you know, sometimes it would be nice to have a little action again.

“He-Man?”
“Yes, Chad?” Chad was nervously twisting the nasty strands of his sophomore-year goatee.
“There is a customer who wishes to speak to you.” In a whisper he added, “He’s real weird, try and sign him up for a Gap card.”

With a sigh, I got up off the floor and sauntered my way towards the cash registers. My customer was there, examining a pair of loose-fit carpenter pants.
“Hi! He-Man here. Can I help you?” I could tell even from this distance that the pants weren’t his size. At first I thought he might be buying them as a gift, but who would give somebody discount carpenter pants besides a mom, and he wasn’t no mom.
“Help me?” questioned the weird pants non-mom guy in an electronic voice. “Help me by dying!”
He threw the pants at me and I dodged their wide leg just in time as he swung a dangerous axe-arm at my head.
‘Whoa, you crazy machine man! What gives?”

The evil wacky robot monster took a second swipe at me and laughed that eerie Cher-vocorder song laugh again.
“Don’t you recognize your old friend Roboto?” He sneered mechanically.
“No,” I answered with feigned nonchalance as I ducked behind a giant Dennis Hopper poster.

“Have you forgotten me, then?” demanded the wild metallic hatchet man. “I, who have not forgotten you! I, whose life you destroyed. Have you forgotten my father...The Ballerina!”
“Ah, shi--”
The axe went right through Dennis’s Blue Velvet-sniffing nose. I grabbed it and, using my super strength, tore the damn thing off Roboto’s body.

Before I could so much as sing, “I’ve got your arm!” Roboto had switched weapons and was firing machine gun rounds from his stump.

“My father was a great scientist,” he moaned, blowing all my shirt displays to hell. “A genius!!! And his only weakness was he enjoyed tap-dancing! Is there anything wrong with that?!!!”

I dove across the floor and threw a fleecy-collared trucker jacket into the air. The innocent garment exploded as a hail of bullets streaked the air.

“But you saw him dancing, didn’t you, He-Man! You saw that great man doing a little soft shoe, and you told everyone! You told them he liked ballet! You told everyone at school that my father was a great gay ballerina, and was going to be a fairy princess.”
Roboto collapsed and held his face in his hands.
I took the time to wonder how people like this always seem to find me.

From across the street at a cafe, Beast-Man commented to Orko, “Looks like the guy from Daft Punk found He-Man.”
“Who? Guy-Man?”
“Yeah, what a dumb name.”

I worm-crawled across the floor and into the back room. Roboto had started up with his laser arm, and was making his way towards the Baby Gap. A collective cry went up from the mothers, toddlers, and anorexic girls who were shopping there. I had to stop him.

I slipped my bag off the shelf, accidentally spilling Courtney’s double latte on my shirt.
My unique powersword landed with a thud on the floor. I stroked its hilt with my hand.
Take me! Use me! Kill with me!!!
I heard Roboto laughing. I pushed the bloodthirsty sword away, dusted myself self off and walked back out onto the sales floor.

“Roboto!”
“He-Man! Ready to die?”
“Yes.” Roboto was taken aback. His gears whirred loudly in shock. “First though, I want to tell you why I said those things about your father.”
I slowly walked closer to him. His eyes flashed redly.
“I’m listening.”
“You’re right, I saw him dance. He was amazing! I had never seen anything like it. I never knew anyone could move like that. I was jealous!”
“What?!”
“I hated myself for my clumsiness, for my lack of grace. I hated myself and... I hated him. He was too perfect.”
A wistful smile lit up Roboto’s LED display.
“He was the best dancer I had ever seen. He was...”
I was within 4 feet of Roboto.
“He was...”
“Yes?”
“Completely and savagely flaming!!!”

My first powerpunch landed just above his techno-belt. I followed with an uppercut that lifted him into the air, and then, with all the grace of Roboto’s ballerina dad, I spun on the heel of my motorcycle boot and landed a perfect roundhouse kick to the side of his head.

Roboto sailed through the air and exited the Gap shatteringly by way of the front window.
“Take that, son of Twinkletoes.”

I strode to the back room, picked up my stuff and my sword, and tossed my name pin down on the counter.
“What are you doing?” wailed Chad, coming out from under a ribbed sweater display.
“I’m He-Man, the most powerful man in the universe, Chad...and I quit!”

As I left the Gap, I thanked God for direct deposit, kicked Roboto twice in the CPU, and hailed myself a cab.

“Where to, pal?”
“Eternia City, and step on it!”

12 fists| add to the fisting

Visiting Day [11 Sep 2002|06:24pm]
[ mood | contemplative ]

Today was my day off. I had planned on going down to Eternian Comics and maybe picking up some new 7’’s. I had finished dressing and was making my lunch when there was a knock at the door.

I scooped up my laser pistol and tiptoed towards the door. Pressing myself up against the wall, I asked, “Quien es?”
“Hayley Mills,” came a familiar voice.

I threw open the door, “Beast-Man!” It was he. My furry chum laughed and I saw Orko and another gentleman over his shoulder.
“Come in, come in. I see you’ve brought a friend.”
“Oh,” said Orko with a backward glance, “this is just He-Ro. He’s a wuss.”

“Hi! I’m He-Ro, the most powerful man in the universe,” mumbled the blushing young man as he offered me he hand.
“He-Man here. Pleased to meet you, He-Ro. Most powerful man? That’s a lot to live up to.”
He-Ro blushed again and stared at his own golden boots.

“Never mind him, He-Man,” interrupted Beast-Man, “he’s just pissy ‘cause he screwed up his job and Mer-Man’s been kidnapped. What the hell are you wearing, anyway?”
“Gap jeans. Don’t you like them? What do you mean Mer-Man was kidnapped? This isn’t like the time Orko told him he was a crybaby and he hid in the cupboard for three days.”
“No, he’s kidnapped,” stated Orko firmly.

It was then that I took a quick glance at my kitchen and only just in time.
“Damn, my gorditas are burning!”
“Whoa!” sympathized He-Ro.
As I ran to try and salvage my lunch, I saw Beast-Man and Orko exchange glances and could sear I saw Beast-Man mouth the word “gay”.

As I went about my cooking, I asked them to fill me in on the details of Mer-Man’s abduction.

“Well, a glowing skeleton that calls himself Scare-Glow showed up, beat the crap outta He-Ro, and stole Mer-Man and the magic picture book we had just found.”
“Amazing. Anyone want some gorditas? They’re good!”

“No thanks. We need you to come save Mer-Man and murder Scare-Glow like in the old days,” said Orko, finally coming to the point.

I smiled sadly. “Well, I’m sorry to burst your bubbles, but I’m not a superhero anymore. I’ve got a job - I sell trendy clothes in a boutique. He-Ro seems to have the situation under control. He may be a bit green, but give him time.”

He-Ro obviously wanted to make a comment but Beast-Man cut him off.
“He-Doofus here couldn’t even take out Webstor, let alone this skeleton dude. He’s a Lame-R!”

“OMG!” exclaimed Orko. “Are you still listening to the Strokes?” he asked, pointing to a concert poster on my wall.
“Yeah, so?”
“So?!!! They just happen to be soooo six months ago!”
“Yeah,” agreed Beast-Man, “you should be listening to some Black Rebel Motorcycle Club!”
“Or The Vines,” Orko suggested swarmily.
“I like Shakira,” admitted He-Ro, shaking his hips in a manner that left his lifestyle choices open to question.

By now I was a tad annoyed and decided that I would be happier if my friends just left me to my books and my albums and my lunch.
“Look, guys, I can’t help you with Mer-Man. I’m not a superhero anymore. I just work at the Gap. I sell boot-cut jeans!”

“We know who you are, He-Man. Even if you’ve forgotten. Anyway, this belongs to you.” Beast-Man reached into his bag and pulled out my powersword.

As I held the blade in my hands they started heading for the door.
“We need an answer by tomorrow!” warned Orko.
“How will I reach you guys?” I demanded. “Where are you staying?”
“That’s for us to know and you to find out,” answered Beast-Man cheekily.

As the door closed behind them, I could hear He-Ro say, “I thought you told me he was a dick?”
I was alone again, but I had my powersword. I thought about sliding it out of the scabbard but I decided to wait. There would be more than enough time for that later. First I had to eat my gorditas...and think.
I accomplished both in silence.

I never took my eyes off the sword.

14 fists| add to the fisting

Red Letter Day [10 Sep 2002|08:32pm]
[ mood | nostalgic ]

Dear Mermista,

How are things up in space with Crabby? You may have heard that I gave up the whole superhero-of-Eternia thing. In the end it just seemed to me that people could get by without me and my fur shorts. With Skeletor and Randor gone, what did they need protection from?


I waved goodnight to the other guys at the store and started on my walk to the train station.

Since I left Eternia I’ve had a lot to think about. I’ve been trying to improve myself, and not just my scores for PS2 games! I watch that show with the talking aardvark sometimes. He has inspired me to read more. Right now I am reading a book called The House at Pooh Corner.

Sometimes I get a little lonely. I haven’t seen any of my old friends in months. I spend most of my time working or reading my book or listening to my records. Sometimes I get sad and miss you or Mer-Man and Beast-Man and stuff but it’s never too bad.


The train keeps ringing its little bell at me ‘cause I’m standing inside the yellow line that you aren’t supposed to stand in. In the end it gives up and just barrels past me, as I rock on my heels, blasting me with the warm air caught in its wake. The doors open and I get on.

A strange thing happened the other day. I was walking out of my apartment when a small ball of red string rolled past me.
It was wobbling down the sidewalk right in front of my building! Behind it the ball left a small trail of string, so I could see that it had already come at least a block. I followed the ball, wondering where it was going. We got to an intersection and the ball gradually slowed down, let a car pass, then rolled right down the curb ramp. It crossed the street and bounced up onto the other side.
By this point I was completely fascinated by it. The red ball seemed to know where it was going. We took a left at the next intersection and continued for another two blocks, leaving behind us the string as a Theseus style marker.
Suddenly the ball gave one more quick roll and disappeared. It happened so quickly my eyes followed the route it would have taken for a few feet before realizing the ball was no longer there. Instead there was just the line of string. The ball had unwound itself.
I stared at the string for a long time. There was no way for me to know where it had been going or whether or not it had gotten there. I could only see where it had been.


I always liked this escalator. It’s one of the ones where when you reach the middle the people going in the opposite direction look like they are leaning really far forward or really far back. I always laugh when I see people like that and sometimes I sketch it at home and give the people little ski poles.

Another block and I was at my apartment building door, turning the key in the lock.
“Welcome back, He-Man,” I greeted myself.

Sometimes I think of that little ball of string. I hope you are okay with Crabby. I never wanted you to get hurt.
I’m sorry if I sound down tonight. It’s just been one of those days. Maybe I’ll call Orko or something...but those guys are probably doing fine without me. I’m gonna read now. I’ll write you again later.


I put the letter I had been working on all day into a little drawer in my desk that I could lock.

Bye, Mermista.

Love,

He-Man, the most pow
just plain He-Man

P.S. Tomorrow will be funnier, I promise. I’ve just got a feeling that things are going to turn around soon.

18 fists| add to the fisting

Snatched [09 Sep 2002|09:02pm]
[ mood | pensive ]

“So he told me that it was in my cubbyhole but when I checked the cubbyhole nothing was there. Some bastard must have swiped it...”
“Wow, Beast-Guy, that’s rad!” approved He-Ro, not paying a bit of attention. “Just one more tumbler to go...” Blue light from He-Ro’s hand illuminated the lock. Finally, with a satisfying click, the heavy door swung open as if by magic.

A strong gust of air blew out from the cavernous maw now open before us. It stank of decay and sin and malevolence.
“I smell sex and candy!” observed Beast-Man. He and I followed He-Ro into the tunnel.

“So,” mulled He-Ro, “this is where King Randor kept all his good stuff, eh? Anyone wanna stick around after we find the Tome and see if we can find anything for eBay?”
“Not me,” answered Beast-Man as he checked the levels on his laser carbine. “Knowing Randor, we’d prolly find flesh-eating maggot monsters with cherub faces! He was weird that way.”
“We came for the book,” I grunted. “Leave the rest.”
I thought I heard He-Ro say “Blow me,” but it was lost in the wind.

”My Dark Lord, what do you see in your magic chalice?” Trap-Jaw lay prostrate on the floor averting his eyes from his master’s glowing aura.
He chanced to look up when he heard a sharp hiss of breath and a dry laugh.
“They have almost reached the book! Yes, find it my little heroes, and return it to its rightful owner...Trap-Jaw, prepare my horse. I will be with Evil-Lyn.”
A booted foot and tattered robes covered in dust and mold swept by Trap-Jaw’s face as he pressed it against the damp flagstones.
“If on your return, Snake Mountain is a-rockin’, don’t come a-knockin’.”
“Yes, my lord.”


We were deep into the subterranean tunnels which ran beneath the old palace. Many turnings had collapsed and we followed a glowing orb that He-Ro had enchanted to guide the way to the Tome.
“I would have thought this place would be better defended,” He-Ro commented prematurely.
Just then bright red electric eyes flickered to life in the shadows. There was a whir of machines and all hell broke loose.
“Killer robots!” screamed Beast-Man, firing wildly into the blackness. Beam weapons answered his salvo and buzz-saw blades began to streak through the air. Eight killer robots with electro-whips blocked our way.
“Duck and cover!!!” called He-Ro. He reached into a pouch at his belt and through a handful of small pellets at the robots.
There was a bright flash and a blinding explosion. Servos and circuit boards rained down upon us. Beast-Man kept shooting the melted automatons.
“Get some! Get some!!!”

”Your horse is ready, my lord.”
“Good work.” The dark figure in its tattered robes walked brusquely down the flagstones. He held a lance covered in vile runes up to the sky and his sleeve slipped down to reveal glowing bones.
“Tonight, Eternia, you will drink a bitter draught!”
Given strength by his master’s words, Trap-Jaw added, “Yeah, Eternia, you can suck it!”
The skeletal lord reached his horse, made of living stone, in a few long strides. With a terrible cry he swung himself up into the saddle and, laughing, galloped off into the dusky horizon.


“Here’s a chest!”
We had finally found a large box sealed with Randor’s own insignia and several large locks. The gold bands which held it together and the craftsmanship of the item showed it was used for no mean purpose.
“I bet this is where he put his most valued treasures!” Saliva dripped from Beast-Man’s fangs.
He-Ro chanted a short spell and the lid slowly opened.
“Oh my.....oh, God! That is just...oh, God!!!”
“WTF!”
“That’s disgusting! Close it!”

Beast-Man slammed the chest shut with the butt of his rifle. The action must have awoken some depraved device inside, because the chest began to hum and vibrate across the floor.
“I’m gonna hurl.”

The dread creature of bone and evil crossed the broken plains an army of monsters and mercenaries at his back. His pennant of a bass with a hook in its mouth flapped ominously in the wind behind him. As he drove his enchanted steed onward, he gnashed his teeth and tightened a grip on his lance.
He blew down through the mountain passes like a storm living death and blood and fire and heartache behind him...heartache forever linked to the name Scare-Glow.


He-Ro and Beast-Man burst into the courtyard together, laughing drunkenly. Mer-Man and his advisors, Orko included, wandered out to see what the commotion was about.
“He-Ro, you’ve returned! What news?” asked the amazed Prime Minister.

“Well, we found some of these.” He reached into his rucksack and withdrew a large maggot with the face of a two year old.
“They make good eating,” advised Beast-Man.
“And,” He-Ro continued, “this!!!”

He held the Tome of Knowledge above his head.
Great tears of wonderment sprang to Mer-Man’s eyes.
“Now we can finally bring peace to Eternia!” he cried in triumph.

“The peace of the dead!” came a voice from the door. All heads turned to the threshold, where now stood a robed figure, rags blowing about his body in the light breeze. He had no skin on his face or hands and his eyes burned with an unholy light. All around him the air shimmered and power radiated from his person.

“Skele--” began Mer-Man.
“Scare-Glow!” screamed the fiend, froth spitting from his lipless mouth.
The monstrosity raised his bony hand and brought the end of his lance down with a thundering crack onto the marble stones of the courtyard.
Men fell down wailing and writhing in pain. The figure pointed at He-Ro.
“Give me the book.”

“Don’t you have an Alice Cooper concert to go to or something?” growled He-Ro, putting up a strong front. He tossed the book to Mer-Man and raised an eyebrow.
Scare-Glow’s troop of mercenaries rushed into the courtyards shouting great battle cries.
He-Ro held out his hands and, gritting his teeth, bellowed at them. From out his hands grew a translucent bear almost twenty feet tall. It roared at the crowd of scum and, as they broke formation to escape its fury, it began to lay into them, swinging its powerful paws and sending henchman spiraling through the air.

Sweat poured down He-Ro’s face. His eyes lost focus. The bear grew larger and more powerful. All those who stood against it were crushed beneath its gigantic feet or met a sloppy end in its betoothed jaws.

Scare-Glow watched the massacre of his men with a casual ease. He let out a hollow laugh and raised his lance towards He-Ro’s ursine manifestation. From the tip of his evil weapon sprang a great black serpent.
The two magical beasts collided, the serpent wrapping its coils around the bear, striking at the confused creature’s face with its red dripping fans. The bear tried to ward off the poisonous attack and grappled with the serpent about its neck.
Suddenly there was a scream and He-Ro staggered backwards, falling to the ground in exhaustion. The bear disappeared almost immediately.

Mer-Man yelped as the giant magical snake swiftly slithered its coils around his shoulders and began to squeeze. At a nod from Scare-Glow, the nightmaric creature sprouted wings and began to fly off, Mer-Man and the Tome of Knowledge firmly in its clutches.
As he disappeared into the night sky, Mer-Man begged his friends, “Feed my Sea Monkeys while I’m gone!!!”

He-Ro raised himself to his knees and began to whisper to himself. Scare-Glow waved the lance almost imperceptibly in his direction and the superhero was cast violently against the stone wall, the life and air forced out of him.

Scare-Glow turned on his heel and, with a laugh that was like a curse, walked to his waiting horse. Eternia City was in flames.

When he was gone, Orko and Beast-Man ran over to He-Ro. He was unconscious.
“What are we going to do?” asked Beast-Man.
“About He-Ro?” wondered Orko.
“No, about Mer-Man’s Sea Monkeys.”
“Oh, don’t worry about them. They died months ago. I just poured some Parmesan cheese into the bowl. Fools him every time.”

He-Ro let out a groan. Creeping out of my hiding place, I approached them.
“I think it is time you found the owner of this.” I held out the battered and sheathed powersword.
“My cousin had one just like that,” volunteered Beast-Man.



Tomorrow: The Return of He-Man!!!

9 fists| add to the fisting

The Next Most Powerful Man In the Universe [08 Sep 2002|03:17pm]
[ mood | hopeful ]

"Come again?" inquired Beast-Man prettily.
"He-Ro," proclaimed the young man, though now with some doubt, "the most powerful man in the universe."

Mer-Man's eyes grew large. "But I thought He-Man was--"
Orko cut him off with an impatient gesture of his few-fingered hand. "The Prime Minister will remember that He-Man is no longer serving Eternia. Consequently, we decided to hire a new superhero. You were just looking at the file a moment ago."
Mer-Man began to rummage through his desk.
"It's the one with the Snorks," sighed Orko.
"Two-faced bitch," muttered Beast-Man under his breath. Orko blushed facelessly.
"Here it is!" cried Mer-Man in delight, happily scanning the Snork letterhead. "Hmm..." he pondered. "He-Ro, do you like Snorks?"
"Wow, pretty liberal! I guess if you're cutting some lines, I wouldn't mind one or two."
Mer-Man regarded him in stunned silence.

"So what makes you such a hero?"
"Well, Beast-Guy," answered He-Ro, "I did go to superhero training school."
"It's true," admitted Mer-Man, sliding a photograph of impish blond-haired children at play out from the Snork folder. Beast-Man snatched it from his hand.
"Looks like a Hitler Youth picnic."
He-Ro shrugged his shoulders expressively.
"How did you get to be the most powerful man in the universe anyway, Heinrich?"
"Yeah," chimed in Mer-Man eagerly, "do you powerpunch, kick ass or sell Sexual Chocolate?"
He-Ro propped his gold-plated boots up on the desk. "Well, I do a little martial arts, some small arms stuff, and magic."
"Oh, Magic: the Gathering?!" asked Orko.
"No, like this." He-Ro extended his hand towards Orko and whispered an ancient word of power. Suddenly, a bolt of flame burst from his fingertips and torched the top of Orko's hat.

As the little blue freak screamed in terror and tried to extinguish his chimney-like headwear, Beast-Man and Mer-Man looked on appreciatively.
"You're hired!"

Mer-Man got up and walked past the remains of Orko's smoldering hat. "Here is the unique powersword of He---"
Beast-Man coughed.
"--of He-Ro, the most powerful man in the universe."
He-Ro looked at the sword, still wrapped in its antique scabbard. "Actually, I don't really do the whole sword part of the sorcery thing. I've got a wand already." At this, he brandished a wand with a feathery tongue. "Swords are too old-school for me."
"Like Coolio."

"One last thing," finalized Mer-Man as He-Ro signed the at-will employment contract, "do you have a LiveJournal?"
"Um, no, but I have a uJournal."
To conceal their laughter, Beast-Man, Mer-Man and Orko pretended to be busily engaged in playing invisible kazoos.

7 fists| add to the fisting

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