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Just then, the telephone rang.

Jenna groaned. “Chehhh...” she mumbled as she slid her feet off the table and sat up. “Looks like breaktime's over.”

She put out her cigarette on the ash tray and let the phone ring a couple more times before answering. “Queen of Hearts Delivery and Bounty Hunter Agency. Can you be helped?”

She listened for a moment and then slowly answered, “Yeah, that does sound delicious but you want Hakeem's Thaiwanese Rice Tacos downstairs.”

Hanging up, she took out her pack of black cigarettes from the desk drawer and flipped a stick into her mouth all in one smooth, well-practiced move. “We have got to get a new number,” she muttered under her breath as she pushed the drawer back in.

The phone rang again. It was the same guy.

“Look,” Jenna said, “you want the restaurant downstairs. This is the Queen of Hearts Delivery and Bounty Hunter Agency. Hakeem's Thai-- Yeah, we do delivery jobs. Why? Well, sure, we can pick up and deliver your order. No problem. We'll have your sweet and sour pork chimichangas delivered to your doorstep and have you greeted with a smile all for the measly price of one hundred dollars. The cost of the chimichangas not included of course. You'll still have to pay for those.”

“A hundred dollars!?” the phone exclaimed.

“We here at the Queen of Hearts Delivery and Bounty Hunter Agency,” Jenna replied calmly, “pride ourselves in a job well done. We make sure all packages are delivered on time. At any cost. No bandits or thieves or rabid beasts, no assassins or corporate spies or super villains or terrorist organizations will keep us from finishing any job we accept. When you think about it, a hundred dollars is really quite cheap, all things considered. You can rest assured that your precious sweet and sour pork chimichangas will be safe with us. You'll be biting into that delicious, spicy goodness by eight this evening. Hello? Hello?”

Jenna put the phone back down. “Chehhh...”

With a small, black disposable lighter, she lit the cigarette in her mouth. A couple of quick puffs followed a long drag. She had hardly finished exhaling the sweet-smelling smoke when the telephone went off again.

“Hello? Queen of Hearts Delivery and Bounty Hunter Agency. Wholesale destruction costs extra. Hello? Oh, it's you, Steven. What's up? Mallet Girl? She's not back yet. Sent her out this morning to look for some dude. Yeah? Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, I'll tell her. Oh, fine. Just fine. So, dinner's still on this evening? Yeah, see you all this evening then.”

She hung up. Leaning back on her chair, which creaked in protest, she continued smoking. After a while, she hung back her head and shouted at the top of her voice. “Maaaaaaa!!!”

“Whaaaat!?” came the equally vocal reply from the apartment directly above her.

“When Mally gets back,” Jenna hollered back, “tell her Steven called!”

“For the hundredth time, dear, I'm not your secretary! Go tell her yourself!”

“But, Maaaaaaa!”

“Whaaaat!? Oh, fine! I'll tell her! Anything else?”

“Yeah, Steven wants her to know that her order of foam rubber mallets has arrived! Oh, and she needs to buy more mallet polish! The more expensive kind, not the cheap kind!”

“Fine, dear! I'll tell her!”

There was a short pause, long enough for Jenna to sneak a couple of quick puffs on her cigarette, and then her mother yelled, “Jennaaaaa!”

“Whaaaat!?” Jenna replied.

“What do you want for dinner? I feel like having eggplants this evening! And pineapples! How do you feel about pineapples and eggplants?”

“Sounds nice! But I'll be going out tonight!”

“That's great, dear! Have fun! But what do you want for dinner this evening?”

“No, Maaaaa! I'll be out all night! I'll be eating out! Eating out!”

“Whaaaat? Take-out? No, dear! No need for take-out! I'll be cooking dinner!”

“No, Maaaaa! Eating out! I'll be eating out with my friends!”

“Friends? Okay! How many are coming over?”

“No, Maaaaa!”

“Whaaaat? I need to know how many plates to set on the table!”

Jenna covered her face with her palm and slowly shook her head. She must be blow-drying her hair again. Her mother was always messing around with her hair. Jenna took a deep breath and raised her voice even louder. “I won't be eating dinner tonight! I'll be going out!”

“Whaaaaat?”

“Maaaaaaa!!!”

“Whaaaat!?”

“Oh, never mind!”

“Mind? Of course I don't mind! I love having company over!”

Jenna groaned in frustration.

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“Oh, yeah!” Mallet Girl nodded. “Those things. You know, I tried one of those new-fangled fight games once. It was a big disappointment. I mean, what a kind of fight game explodes after just one hit? What a gyp! I demanded my money back but the arcade manager threw me out instead.”

“Hey, wait a minute!” she then exclaimed. “How you still have half your lifebar? Those were pretty good hits I gave ya!”

Fried Chicken Wing Guy laughed with glee in response. “Tougher than I looked, aren't I? I'm not the ninth strongest member of Alpha Phi Omegatron Delta Force for nothing. I may not be the strongest physically or the fastest or the most skilled but I pride myself in being the toughest, in my ability to take damage. Bwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

“Well how about that!” Mallet Girl said, indicating the lifebar floating over her head. “Mine's still full.”

“Gaaahhh!” Fried Chicken Wing Guy's eyes literally bulged out of their sockets almost to the verge of popping out completely. Such was his shock and utter disbelief at what he was seeing. “H-h-how is that even possible!? It can't be!”

It was then that Mallet Girl noticed Gazpacho of the Andes for the very first time since she and Fried Chicken Wing Guy fell into the room.

“Oh, hello,” she greeted him. “Sorry for dropping in all of the sudden and carrying on like that but this guy just won't quit.”

Still in shock, Gazpacho of the Andes simply stared back at her and said nothing. He looked at her and then at Fried Chicken Wing Guy, and then back at her again.

“I see...” he murmured finally and then more audibly, declared, “I see what you are trying to do, Mallet Girl.” He pointed at Fried Chicken Wing Guy. “And you, too, Alias Uno. I did not realize you such a master of disguise. You two almost had me fooled but this amateur performance of yours is simply too asinine I'd have to be a three-year-old to believe it. I have but one thing to say to that.”

Suddenly, her turned and leapt out of the open window. “I am no three-year-old! Nya-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” he shouted as he scurried down the fire escape.

“What the...!?” Mallet Girl cried.

“You may have foiled my plans this time, Mallet Girl! But victory shall ultimately be mine! I leave now to molest another day! Wa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

It was then that the door burst open and Alias Uno came running into the room. “Mallet Girl!” he called out to her. “That's him! That's Gazpacho of the Andes!”

“What!?”

“Gazpacho of the Andes!” Alias Uno repeated. “His name's on the mailbox downstairs. I even confirmed it with the manager of the 7-Ate-9 convenience store out front.”

“Who?” Mallet Girl looked at him as though he had gone insane. What the heck was he going on about?

Alias Uno sighed. “That Pistachio guy we were--”

“Dang!” Mallet girl exclaimed. “Why didn't you say so in the first place? Come on! He's getting away!”

She rushed to the window, sheathing her mallet as she went, and hurriedly clambered out of the room.

“Go get him, Mallet Girl!” Alias Uno hollered after her. “I'll keep track of him from the rooftops!”

And with that, he, too, was gone, leaving Fried Chicken Wing guy, the little girl, and the pretty pink pony all wide-eyed and confused, all three of them thinking in unison, “What the heck just happened?”

“TIME'S UP!” the deep, thunderous voice bellowed. “MALLET GIRL WINS!”

INTERLUDE – BUSINESS AS USUAL

A sparsely-furnished room. Just a rectangular office table, a couple of wooden stools in front of the table, an office chair behind the table, and a steel filing cabinet in the corner. There's an old-style rotary phone on the table as well as a small glass ash tray that was filled to the brim with ashes and black cigarette butts. And there's a tall, green ceramic vase holding a daffodils set atop the filing cabinet.

Old, peeling wallpaper with light-brown puppy dog pattern covered the walls and hanging on the wall directly behind the table was an electric sign in bright ret and blue neon lights saying, “QUEEN OF HEARTS Delivery & Bounty Hunter Agency”.

Jenna was seated on the chair, leaning back with her heavily-shod feet resting on the table. She was puffing heavily on one of her black cigarettes, breathing out billows of light-grey smoke and filling the room with the scents of tobacco, chocolate, and cinnamon. It was shaping out to be just another day for the Queen of Hearts Delivery and Bounty Hunter Agency. As usual, the phone had been ringing nonstop all morning. Mostly, they were wrong numbers, calls intended for the restaurant downstairs.

There were several legitimate calls though she highly doubted that Mallet Girl will be all too excited to hear about them when she comes back this afternoon. They were all pick-up and delivery orders after all. They typically left that sort of stuff to Foul Ball McCoy and his trusty sidekick Bull Pen Jane. But the two had recently tied the know and were out of town on their honeymoon. Mallet Girl will just have to grin and bear it. Oh, no doubt she'll pout. She'll whine. She'll complain. She'll even threaten her with grievous bodily har most likely. Jenna knew her friend all too well. But money was money and there were bills to pay.

Jenna wasn't worried. She rarely was when it came to Mallet Girl. She had mastered a long time ago the fine art of dealing with her violet childhood friend. Most of all, she knew Mallet Girl's greatest weakness, her Achilles' Heel so to speak. But it won't have to come to that. Mallet Girl knew her as much as she Mallet Girl after all.

Besides, Jenna was confident Alias Uno will keep Mallet Girl in line. He always did. Well, usually. For the most part at least. Jenna grinned. She can't wait to see the horrified expression of the poor man's face when she tells them what their jobs will entail for the next couple of days.

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“Cute-looking sphinx though,” she thought.

“Hah! I'm too smart for the likes of you,” Fried Chicken Wing Guy taunted her. “You're gonna have to get up very early in the morning indeed to get one over me. No, siree, you can't fool me into revealing that the oh-so-obvious evil master plan my mistress concocted to corner the garlic salt market and thus bring the city to its knees was actually one big ruse and the her real target was the Kansas Fricasseed Chicken chain of restaurants all along. Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

“I understood nothing of what you just said,” Mallet Girl replied. “But it sure sounded might incriminating. I'm bringing you in!”

Fried Chicken Wing Guy blinked. He was confused but only for a moment. It quickly dawned upon him and he realized what he had just done. “Gaaahhh!” he cried, pulling at his hair in dismay. “You tricked me! I can't believe you tricked me! You're gonna pay for that!”

He thrusted both arms forward and held them straight, hands wide open, palms aimed at Mallet Girl. “Tofu Chain of Death!” he shouted. “Haaiiieeee!”

Mallet Girl instinctively braced herself. She had sensed the sudden rise in his fighting spirit and her body reacted before she could even think about it. She threw up her hands, her mallet still held tightly in one, and crossed her forearms defensively in front of her. “Waaaahhhhh!” she went, her eyes tightly shut.

But nothing happened.

“Huh?” she said, opening one eye to take a peek.

Fried Chicken Wing Guy was equally baffled, maybe even more so for he had practiced that very move countless of times until he had gotten it down pat. He could perform that move even in his sleep. There should have been very little chance that it would have failed him as miserably and as embarassingly as it had just now. “What?” he asked himself thus, even as he stared in disbelief at his hands.

It was only when his eyes strayed down to his body that his fatal error became evident.

“Gaaahhh!” he cried out loud, a horrified expression on his face. “I totally forgot! I'm not wearing my ninja henchman uniform!”

Mallet Girl couldn't help herself. For some reason, the situation just struck her as extremely hilarious that she began to giggle uncontrollably. “What an idiot! What an imbecile!” she chortled, pointing at Fried Chicken Wing Guy with her thumb whilst clutching at her stomach. “What a morooon!”

“Nooooo!” he went. “You shut up! You've made a fool of me for the last time, Mallet Girl. I was gonna take it easy on you and finish you off quickly with that move but seeing as how I can't do any more special attacks without my official ninja henchman gear -- patent pending -- I'm gonna have to settle this fight with basic henchman moves and you'll be oh-so-sorry cuz now you're going down hard.”

“Oh, bring it on!” Mallet Girl excitedly replied. She raised a clenched fist, challenging him to do just that. “I've tangled with tougher blokes than you. And that's way back in grade school. I'm not afraid of a little rough foreplay!”

“Grrrrr...wait.” Fried Chicken Wing Guy paused. He blinked. “What?”

“What?”

“Um...”

“Oh, never mind!” Mallet Girl exclaimed. With her trusty mallet clenched with both hands, she charged. “It's Mallet Time!”

Fists at the ready and poised to attack or defend, Fried Chicken Wing Guy responded in kind.

“Graaaaahhhhh!!!” he shouted.

“Yaaaaaahhhhhh!!!” yelled Mallet Girl.

And as the distance between the combatants shortened, a deep, thunderous voice suddenly boomed. “MALLET GIRL versus FRIED CHICKEN WING GUY – FIGHT!!!”

But it was all lost upon the two for so focused were they upon each other they heard not one word of it. They pounced upon each other as soon as they got within striking distance and proceeded to unleash one attack after another.

“Crescent Mallet Strike!” Mallet Girl hollered as she leapt up and struck Fried Chicken Wing Guy with a down mallet swing on her way down.

“Elite Henchman Salute!” cried Fried Chicken Wing Guy. He stepped back, saluted with his right hand, and then swiftly lunged forward for a karate chop to the side of Mallet Girl's neck.

“Tornado Smash!” Mallet Girl responded, spinning like a top for multiple hits with her mallet.

“Henchman Uppercut!” went Fried Chicken Wing Guy, the move basically a jab-jab-uppercut boxing combo.

“Babe Ruth Home Run Special!” Mallet Girl swung her mallet like a baseball bat.

“FPJ Fists of Flurry! Fried Chicken Wing Guy viciously clapped Mallet Girl on the ears then delivered a flurry of punches to her stomach, finishing the combination with another clap attack to her ears.

“Nutcracker--” Mallet Girl stopped in her tracks. Something had caught her attention. “Wait. What the heck is that?” she asked as she pointed at the space just above Fried Chicken Wing Guy.

“Huh?” He looked up. There, floating in mid-air, was long, red-outlined rectangle. “What the...!? What is that? Wait. Is that...? Hey, it is!” He looked at Mallet Girl. “It's a lifebar.”

Mallet Girl was perplexed. “A what?”

“A lifebar. You know, those things in arcade video games that tell you how much more damage your character can take before going down.”

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Gazpacho guffawed in maniacal amusement and mirth. “You'll give me the money and like it! I expect you to smile and thank me you hand it over. Be grateful! I could have easily asked for twice or even thrice that amount. You'll give me the money or you'll never see your precious darling Camille again. Unspoiled at least! Mu-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!!”

“You fiend!” the man cried. “You're nothing but a heartless, depraved monster!”

And Gazpacho laughed some more. “My, such flattery pleases me but it will not get me to lower my price. Oh, and do not bother contacting the police or having them trace this number. They will only trace it to the 7-Ate-9 convenience store on Aphid Street and I am nowhere remotely near that location. So says I, Gazpacho of the Andes! Mu-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!!”

And so he laughed and laughed and laughed until he could laugh no more and then he slammed the phone back on the rotary dialer on the table beside him. Slowly, he turned around to regard his two captives with slate-like beady eyes. There in the far corner of the sparsely-furnished room, both gagged and bound, were a little blond girl in a horseback riding outfit and her pretty pink pony.

Gazpacho of the Andes was a Latino man of average height and built, in his late twenties and with hair that was an impressive voluminous coif supported by copious amounths of extra-strength glossy wax; it was nearly as third as tall as he was. His chin and jaw were quite large and prominent and his straight mustache, very long and pointy. He was wearing a plain, white, V-necked T-shirt, torn and faded jeans, and a dirty pair of tennis shoes, which he donned without socks. He had on a cape and what a cape it was! Luxurious red velvet it was, with gold trim, a tall collar the height of his head, and long, pointy, crooked shoulders that reached more than a foot above his ears.

Rubbing his hands together, he grinned wickedly at the hapless, little girl and her pony, both of whom could only stare back at him with wide-eyed terror. They were both thinking pretty much the same thing, “Oh, please! Oh, please! Don't molest me! I'm too cute to be molested!”

Gazpacho continued grinning and rubbing his hands together. Minutes passed. Still he continued grinning and rubbing his hands together. Many more minutes passd. He glanced at the black cat clock hanging above the door. A quarter past eleven, it said. He went back to his gloating, grinning wickedly and rubbing his hands together.

Finally, he declared, “Ah, noon at last! Excellent! I always do my molesting on an empty stomach. Food always taste sweeter after a good molestation.”

“Noooooooo!!!” the little girl and her pony thought in unison.

Suddenly, the ceiling collapsed, dust and debris flying everywhere, and into the room tumbled Mallet Girl and Fried Chicken Wing guy, the two locked in deadly combat, exchanging fists, elbows, and knees as they fell.

They were instantly on their feet, standing at opposite ends of the room with the astonished Gazpacho staring at them, unable to move an inch. He was so shocked at this sudden interruption of his lunchtime plans that he simply stood there, rooted in place, and watched in silence as the two combatants sized each other up and considered their next move.

Mallet Girl stared at her opponent. It was clear that he was already exhausted and injured to boot. His fried chicken wing suit was all torn and ripped in several places. Still both the man and his costume had fared quite well all things considered. This man, this Fried Chicken Wing guy was better than she had anticipated. He was definitely trained in the finer arts of hand-to-hand combat.

Not that she cared much for the martial arts disciplines, being self-taught herself. Still she couldn't help but be impressed by the man's prowess. He had a critical eye and decent reflexes. And a strong arm, too. And his face wasn't all that bad looking. No wonder he had his own super villain name and costume. No doubt he'd also had his own them music and even a sidekick or a henchman or two. Yeah. He was just the kind of guy she could fall for.

Mallet Girl sighed. If only he wasn't wearing such a silly get-up.

“Feh, what am I thinking!” she thought to herself then. “Focus, girl. Focus! Now's not the time for such silly fantasies. A good cup of coffee is at stake. He's good. Yeah, but I'm definitely better.” She wiped sweat and grime from her left cheek and a little blood from the corner of her lips with the back of her hand. “Heh. Heck yeah, I could take him. Just underestimated him a little, is all.”

Mallet Girl reckoned she could bring him down in five seconds flat. Less if she really put her hip into it. Yeah, she was just that good. She was enjoying the fight far too much to end it all too quickly though.

Still it had been quite the long morning and she badly needed a caffeine jolt, and sugar rush as well, to bring her back to her old perky self. Thus she decided to end the fight in thirty seconds instead of five, all in the name of fun and generosity.

She had lost her mallet on the rooftop so she drew another one from her back. “Alright, buster,” she said, “listen up. This is your last chance. I know you know something so you better fez up.”

“Hah!” Fried Chicken Wing Guy spat out vehemently. “I ain't telling you nothing! I'm taking all my secrets to the grave!”

“Oh, yeah?” Mallet Girl retorted. “We'll see about that! Better fez up already if you know what's good for you. I'm getting the location of that cafe out of you even if I have to beat it out of your brain. So make it easy on yourself and get with the talking! A girl's got a right to her coffee, you know.”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” he responded in turn. “Stop talking nonsense!”

“Whaa? Nonsense? You're the one who's making no sense whatsoever. I was just asking for directions. You're the one who suddenly started acting and screaming all crazy-like.”

“Hah! I'm on to you!” Fried Chicken Wing Guy smiled triumphantly, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “You're just trying to confuse me, aren't you? You're messing with my mind! Well, I'm not falling for it, you hear? You, you, you sphinx you!”

Mallet Girl paused. “Sphinx?” An image of the Egyptian Sphinx but with her head instead and holding crossed mallets in its pause sprung to her mind amidst the sounds of a cricket chirping. A large bead of sweat formed on the side of her head. She was not amused. Not one bit.

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“Oh, indeed it is!” the man replied enthusiastically. “The unique blend of herbs and spices and the meticulous attention and care given to the way it is cooked all combine together into a delicious medley of fried chicken and sauce that can only be described as a gastronomic roller coaster experience that your taste buds will sure to be thankful for.”

“Oh, my!”

“Why,” he added, “the Corporal himself came personally and personally endorsed the dish to restaurant patrons this very morning. The restaurant will be holding an event this evening to officially introduce the dish and all are invited to attend.”

The woman laughed. “I'll be sure to tell my husband then. If there's one thing that man really knows how to appreciate, it's a good chicken dish.”

And with that, the woman left. The man was set to hand out flyers again when Mallet Girl called out to him.

“Yo, Fried Chicken Wing Guy! There a place around here where a girl can get a good cup of joe?”

Thus he was dubbed and known henceforth and forever more as Fried Chicken Wing Guy.

But unbeknownst to the good citizens of downtown Axion Plus, he was in reality none other than Henchman#626! The ninth strongest member of Alpha Phi Omegatron Delta Force, the elite ninja army created by the super villainess mastermind Delicious Victoria Delight, Tofu Mistress of Mystery, to infiltrate fastfood restaurants throughout the world and replace all their meaty ingredients with tofu-based substitutes. Mu-ha-ha-ha!

Fried Chicken Wing Guy froze. He recognized the voice instantly. He could never forget that terrible voice. How could he? It sent an arctic chill of absolute horror up and down his spine. M-M-Mallet Girl? It couldn't be!

The Alpha Phi Omegatron Delta Force had tangled with Mallet Girl once before. With disastrous consequences. Half the army decimated and years of careful planning and preparation ruined and flushed down the crapper. What's worse, their beloved skull-shaped tofu factory was destroyed, lost to a giant sinkhole that Mallet Girl had inadvertently caused. That's what she claimed at least.

It was all an accident she said. It wasn't her fault. Who knew striking that massive pillar at the particular spot would cause it to fall through the floor and send it crashing down three levels into the basement, setting off a chain reaction of events that resulted in the formation of that massive sinkhole? Talk about shoddy workmanship.

None of them believed her, of course. This monster girl. This demon in girl's clothing.

Slowly, Fried Chicken Wing Guy turned, praying as he did to all the tofu gods, both real and imagined, that his ears had deceived him.

But they hadn't. It really was Mallet Girl!

Years of rigorous martial arts training and eleven and half weeks of danger assessment and workplace sensitivity seminars kicked in. Dropping the flyers, he leapt back and took a defensive combat stance, much to bewilderment of Mallet Girl.

“Whaaa...!?” she ejaculated.

“Mallet Girl!” Fried Chicken Wing Guy confronted her. “I don't know how you've found us out this time but I won't allow you to ruin our plans again!”

Mallet Girl was quite dumbfounded and she could do naught but stare back at him.

Understandably, the man's mind was racing. He had to do something. Fast. “Aaahhh, do something!” he implored himself. “Do we fight? Or flee? Think, man! Fight or flight? Fight or flight, Fried Chicken Wing Guy, I mean Henchman#626? Fight or flight?”

He considered the blank look Mallet Girl was giving him. It really didn't take him all that long to decide.

“Aw, crap!” he cried out loud. “Flight!”

And with that, poor Fried Chicken Wing Guy bolted. He fled as fast as his sinewy legs could take him, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“What the...?” Mallet Girl exclaimed. “Hey! Come back here! I don't know what's going on here but that sure looked mighty suspicious. Come back here and answer my question!”

She drew a mallet from the holster at her back and ran after the costumed man.

Alias Uno had been talking to a convenience store worker and, thus delayed, was just now arriving. He had missed everything that had just transpired and was completely surprised to see Mallet Girl chasing after a screaming Fried Chicken Wing Guy, her weapon drawn and poised to strike.

“Huh!? Mallet Girl!” he shouted. “Where the heck are you going? I thought we were getting lunch!”

But Mallet Girl paid him no heed and just kept on running.

He watched her disappear in the distance. “What the heck just happened?” he wondered out lout, scratching his head in consternation.

The bystanders around him could only shrug in apology. They may have witness what had happened but they were, all of them, pretty much in the same boat. They were just as confused as he was.

Meanwhile just a few blocks away, Gazpacho of the Andes was in his run-down apartment, watching the clouds lazily drift by in the bright, blue sky through the only window in the room. He was on the phone.

“You have twenty-four hours,” he was saying. I'll contact you again and tell you when and where to drop the money.”

“This is outrageous!” the man on the other end of line protested. “I can't possibly put together that much money in such a short time!”

“Give us back our baby!” a woman's voice could be heard weeping.

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Alias Uno threw up his arms in exasperation. It's made of fiberglass!”

“Oooh, perfect!” replied Mallet Girl. “I have just the mallet for smashing fiberglass. Thank you, Steven! You're the best!”

“Mally, no.”

“What?”

“No. Just no.”

“Oh, alright,” Mallet Girl reluctantly agreed. “Hey! You called me Mally! I thought I told you to never call me by my real name in public!”

“What?” Aliast Uno stared at her for a moment, unsure of how to react. “Wait, Mally's not your--”

“Ssshhhhhh!” Mallet Girl went. “Not so loud. You know that and I know that but people around here don't.”

Alias Uno continued staring at her. She looked so serious. If she had been fooling around at his expense, she gave no hint of it whatsoever, which was quite unlike her. Indeed, Malled Girl was possessed of many skills, chiefest of which was, of course, wielding her beloved mallets, but poker face was definitely not among them. She couldn't bluff her wait out of a gullible people convention for the life of her. “What?”

“What?” Mallet Girl stared back at him, equally confused.

“Ungh,” Alias Uno muttered then, holding the side of his head with his right hand. His head was throbbing again; pretty soon he'll be suffering through a full-blown migraine attack if this continued any longer. Time and time again, he had reminded himself never to get into an argument or confrontation with Mallet Girl but she just seemed to have a knack for getting his goat, for provoking him.

Slowly, he shook his head. Again. “Just let me do the talking from now on. At the rate you're going, we'll be here all day. We've already wasted most of the morning as it is.”

“Hey,” Mallet Girl protested, “I'm a pretty good bounty hunter, I'll have you know!”

“Yeah? Well, I'm not the one who just spent a couple of hours arguing with the ordering console of the Mac-In-A-Cup drive-thru. I'm not the one who insisted on following those footprints, clearly just newly painted on the sidewalk and an obvious advertising gimmick, all the way to the old shoe flea market. And I'm certainly not the one who threatened that poor, blind fellow with grievous bodily harm.”

“Oh, come on,” Mallet Girl retorted. “You can't blame that one on me. He looked mighty suspicious to me and I'm still pretty sure he knew where that Pistachio guy was holed up.”

“Gazpacho of the Andes,” Alias Uno corrected her.

“Whatever. That guy kept on insisting he hadn't seen anything. I got angry. So sue me.”

“He was blind! He couldn't have possibly seen Gazpacho of the Andes. Or anything else for that matter.”

“Well, how was I suppose to know that?” cried Mallet Girl. “It's not as if he was wearing a sign or something.”

“He did have a sign on him!” Alias Uno exclaimed. “There was cardboard sign hanging from his neck. It said 'Pity the Blind Foundation'. He had on dark, blind man glasses. And he had a cane, not to mention the guide dog.”

“Oh, fine!” Mallet Girl pouted, folding her arms and turning her back on her sidekick. “We'll do it your way. But don't blame me if get nowhere. I was on the verge of a breakthrough, too. I could feel it in my gut.”

Alias Uno let out a relieved sigh. He should put this on his blog. It wasn't often he won an argument with Mallet Girl. Not without getting a mallet to the face anyways.

“But first, let's take a short break,” Mallet Girl said then. “Bounty-hunting's thirsty work. I'm parched! Hungry, too. Must be getting close to lunchtime already.”

“Mallet Girl...” Alias Uno muttered.

But Mallet Girl wasn't listening. She was already walking away. “I'm in the mood for some extra-extra-caffeinated mocha latte chino with coffee bean sugar bombs and nata. Yeah,” she declared. “And a family-sized bacon, ham, and cheese sandwich with extra wasabi mayo.”

Alias Uno let out another sigh. An exasperated one this time. “I give up,” he said to himself. “I suppose it is time for a little break.” Besides, Mallet Girl appeared to be in one of her moods again. Huh. Must be that time of the month again.

He groaned. Mallet Girl was nigh insufferable whenever she got impatient for her monthly copy of the Malleteers Digest to arrive in the post. He prayed that the magazine will arrive early this month.

Mallet Girl suddenly shrieked with delight and excitement. She pointed at something across the street. “Oh, oh!” she exclaimed. “Look! A new hardware store is opening!”

“Don't even think about it, Mallet Girl,” Alias Uno cried. “You heard Jenna. No more shopping sprees until all the bills are paid.”

“Sigh... I know, I know. Until all the bills are paid. Whoopeee...”

In the meantime, a couple of buildings down the stree, just around the corner, a man in a full-body fried chicken wing suit was handing out flyers to passers-by. He was standing in front of the Kansas Fricasseed Chicken restaurant, the new one, not the old one, for things would have turned out differently indeed had it been the latter. For right beside the old Kansas Fricasseed Chicken restaurant were located the offices of the White Queen Courier and Laundry Services, the base of operation of the buxom, bonny lass Rivet Jane, self-proclaimed rival of Mallet Girl and doom of everything mallet-related.

A woman in a plain, blue dress and white apron stood in front of him. She carried a canvass shopping bag filled with groceries in one hand a flyer in the other. She was reading the flyer, a dubious look on her face. “Fried chicken wing caramel fricassee?” she asked. “Oh, my. Sounds...delightful?”

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“Thank you, Jenna,” Chibi Mallet Girl said then. “I'm sure our viewers appreciate your sparing us some time from your busy schedule.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Jenna replied. “I'm getting overtime for this, right?”

Without batting an eye, Chibi Mallet Girl continued speaking. “And here we have Steven, Mallet Girl's go-to-guy for all her mallet needs. He's in charge of Mallet Girl's mallet warehouse and always seems to know what mallets Mallet Girl will be needing each day. He's a genius, they say, on of those idiotic servants, or something like that.”

The scene in the television screen then switched to the fruits and vegetable section of a supermarket. A short, pudgy man was standing in front of the vegetable bins, wearing a white apron and a rectangular bull cap with a scarf hanging from the back. He was holding a wooden mallet horizontally with both hands and was grinning from ear to ear as though something good was about to happen.

“Hey, Steven! What up?”

Suddenly, an old-fashioned alarm clock went off, filling the air with it's loud, obnoxious ringing.

“Whoops!” Chibi Mallet Girl cried. “Looks like that's all the time we have, folks!” She waved her hand goodbye. “Tune in again next time! Same mallet channel! Same mallet time!”

“Dashiiiiii!” Uber Chibi Mallet Girl screeched.

As everything in the screen began to fade away, a red, circular window appeared in the lower right corner. Alias Uno popped out of the window.

“Hey!” he protested. “I thought we were gonna talk about me next!”

“Sweetie-kins!!!” Chibi Mallet Girl screamed as she leaped and lunged towards the love of her life.

The old television set turned off and that was that.

CHAPTER TWO

Hello! It is I, the narrator! Yes! There is a narrator now and that is I. Things have become quite profitable around here lately and the higher ups have decided to jazz up the show with more pizzazz, more action, more special effects, and—ahem-ahem!--yours truly. Hee-hee! I am beside myself with glee. At long last, I am gainfully employed and in Mallet Girl's show at that! I am financially viable!

Mu-ha-ha-ha-ha! Never again will I have to face my colleagues in shame. Never again can those stuck-up snobs look down on me and snicker behind my back. They said I would never amount to anything. Well, look who's laughing now! Mu-ha-ha-ha-ha-ack! Cough! Cough! Cough! Uhurm...I mean, on with the show!

Mallet Girl, bounty hunter extraordinaire and one cute chick, is on the trail of Gazpacho of the Andes, the notorious molester of little girls and kidnapper of horses. Or is it the other way around? Mallet Girl could never remember.

Huh? Hey? What are you doing here? We're on the air for cryin' out loud! What's this? Aaahhh, no! My walking papers!? I'm fired? But, but, but I was just hired this morning! How can I be fired already? Nooooo! My plans! I had plans! I'll never be able to move out of my mom's basement at this rate!

Wait, who are you guys? Security? Who the heck called security? Aaahhh, no! Don't come any closer! I have a mike! Don't make me use this! Aaahhh, let go! Let go! Noooooooooo!!!

“So there's this guy, see,” Mallet girl was saying. “Pistachio or something. He's from the Andes, I think. Have you seen him around here? He's like a really bad dude. Wicked and perverted and all icky and stuff. He particularly likes to molest little girls and kidnap horses. Wait. Or was it the other way around? He likes to kidnap little girls and molest horses? Aaahhh, I keep forgetting! Wait, what am I doing? I have a picture! Duh!”

She lifted up her hand to show the photograph she had been holding. “Yeah, this guy! So have you seen this guy around here?”

She waited for an answer but there was none coming.

“Well?”

Still the she was answered with silence.

Mallet Girl frowned. “Oh, giving me the silent treatment, are you? Why, you! Ooh, I bet you're in cahoots with that guy! He's paid you off to keep your mouth shut. That's it, isn't it? Hah! You don't know who you're dealing with, buster. I have ways of making you talk.”

Slowly, she reached for one of the mallets hanging at her back.

Alias Uno sighed, resigned to spending yet another of those trying afternoons with Mallet Girl. He was really regretting coming in for work this morning. Call in sick, his gut had told him, but did he listen? No, of course not. He shook his head slowly and sighed again. “Mallet Girl,” he said.

Just like Mallet Girl, Alias Uno was garbed in his usual work clothes. He was dressed all in dark, charcoal grey from his turtleneck sweater with the extra-long collar to his cargo pants and his heavy, metal-clad, steel-toed leather boots. The black canvas belt with the velcro purses was still strapped across his chest and two similar belts were loosely hanging around his waist.

“Mallet Girl,” he said again.

“What?” Mallet Girl cried, frowning at him. “I'm trying to work here.”

“You're talking to a statue. That's the Jolly the Bug Honey Burger mascot. You were here when they unveiled it last month, remember?”

Mallet Girl paused. “Well...well, that's no excuse! I mean, talk about rude, man. I'm Mallet Girl. The Mallet Girl! When I ask a question, I expect to be answered!” She smacked the back of her right hand against her left palm to stress the point.

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“Huh? Oh, boy! A fan letter!” she shrieked excitedly and she hurriedly ripped open the envelop. She took out the letter and proceeded to read it. “WHAAAATTTT!!!??? Oh, no! We're being sued by ONION! The Organized Nerds Internationale – Order of Nigel! I don't know who this Nigel is but his Order must be good at this sort of stuff. It even has its own letterhead and logo! What are we going to do now!? Waaaaaahhhhh!!!!!”

Chibi Mallet Girl began to bawl like a snotty, little kid, copious amounts of tears flying into the air, a veritable fountain of salty despair.

But her outburst was over quicker than it had started and she was instantly back to perky, cheerful self. “Ah, well,” she said, tossing the letter aside. “We'll let Mallet Girl handle this sort of stuff. I'm pretty sure she'll have no problems whatsoever dealing with ONION using her feminine wiles and charms. They'll be like putty in her hands. Wink-wink!”

Cupping an ear with her right hand, she then exclaimed, “Oh, say! Do you hear that? I think somebody's coming. Why, if it isn't Uber Chibi Mally!”

She reached behind her with her left hand and whipped out a small Mallet Girl hand puppet.

“Natto-natto-natto!” the hand puppet went.

“Hallo, Uber Chibi Mally! How's it going?”

“Katsudon!” came the quick and lively reply. “Pecan peach pie sugar. Mango cheese tofu tea salad.”

Chibi Mallet Girl nodded in response. “Very interesting, Uber Chibi Mally. Speaking of interesting, that was quite the interesting chapter we just had, wouldn't you say?”

“Uh...” Uber Chibi Mallet Girl paused and slowly turned to look up at her. “.....banana?”

“Oh, of course, it was!” Chibi Mallet Girl said. “Weren't you watching? It was so interesting I was simply rivetted! And action-packed, too! Mallet Girl sure went to town on those Nerds.”

“Ham-ham-ham-ham-ham!” Uber Chibi Mallet Girl chuckled.

“Oh, those poor, poor Nerds! I mean, she really stomped them good.” Chibi Mallet Girl sighed. “Ah, well. As Grampa Jenkins always used to say, there's more where they came from! Hah! And now that we've gotten one chapter down, I thought it only appropriate to introduce and talk about the cast. The Mallet Girl Family!”

“Wasabiiii!” Uber Chibi Mallet Girl exclaimed very excitedly, waving side to side with arms outstretched.

“Yes! The Mallet Girl Family! All of you guys out there are, of course, already quite familiar with who Mallet Girl is. She's the main character and star of this show after all. And you've gotten a quick look five of her friends: Jenna, Mark, George, Danielle, and Roseanne.”

“But, you know,” Chibi Mallet Girl continued, “there are many more members in the Mallet Girl Family. Let's see...there's Grampa Jenkins, of course, who's al Gramma Jenkins on occasion but we're not supposed to talk about that. Oops. And then there's Sheila, the boobsy girl waitress. And Pappy, the Papaya-Rama-Lama Llama. And Cousin Larry. And his distant relative Cousin Balky. And Alby, the albino hobo who lives in that old telephone booth across the street. And then there's Jeremy the Modem Kid. Foul Boy McCoy. And Mallet Mutt. Oh, and let us not forget Alias Uno, Mallet Girl's trusty sidekick. What a hunk! He's definitely my favorite.”

Chibi Mallet Girl reached behind her with her free hand and whipped out a framed photograph of Alias Uno. “See? Ain't he a cutie?”

As could be seen in the photograph, Alias Uno was a green-eyed man in his late twenties. He was possessed of a slim but muscular built and spiky, dirty blond hair. He had on dark, round aviator goggles, which he had pulled up to his forehead. His dark, charcoal grey turtleneck sweater had an extra-long collar that covered the lower half of his face, from the tip of the nose down. A black canvas belt of velco purses strapped over his shoulder and across his chest completed his ensemble.

“Choco raisin brussel sprouts!” cooed Uber Chibi Mallet Girl.

Chibi Mallet Girl couldn't help it any longer and proceeded to shower the photograph with sweet, wet kisses. But she quickly caught herself.

“Whoopsy! Heh-heh-heh.” She grinned sheepishly. “Sorry about that!”

She then coughed and cleared her throat in an attempt to regain what modicum of composure she could. “Ahem. We'll have more on sweetie-kins in a moment. But first, I'd like to talk about Jenna. Say hello to the viewers, Jenna!”

The scene then panned to the right to reveal Jenna seated on a tall bar stool. She was still decked all in black, from her long overcoat to her red-trimmed corset all the way down to her combat boots. She was puffing on a lit black stick of cigarette. Leaving the cigarette in her mouth, she flicked her hand in greeting. “Yo!” she said.

“Now Jenna here,” Chibi Mallet Girl stated, “is not only Mallet Girl's childhood friend but her business partner as well. Jenna and Mallet Girl are co-owners of Queen of Hearts Delivery and Bounty Hunter Agency. Jenna handles all the office work while Mallet Girl, with the aid of her trusty sidekick sweetie-kins, I mean, Alias Uno, handles all the actual delivery and bounty-hunting jobs.”

“And I wouldn't have it any other way,” Jenna commented. “That arrangement not only gets Mally out of my hair for hours on end but I would never trust that girl with a stapler, let alone the filing cabinet. And I shudder to think what havoc she could wreak with the paper shredder.” She flicked the cigarette away after taking one las heavy drag. “Way back in nursery school, Mally stayed in school after classes once to help the teacher clean up the art supply. Sigh. Mrs. Anderson was never the same again. To this day, I still don't know how paste could explode like that.”

“Wow!” Chibi Mallet Girl exclaimed. “Mallet Girl's amazing!”

“Turnip tart!” agreed Uber Chibi Mallet Girl.

Jenna didn't say anything else but simply lit herself another black cigarette.

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There was a surprised cry and then a crash followed by a howl of pain.

“Now then,” the waitress said cheerfully. “I'm Mally and I'll be your waitress this evening. If you're looking for Sheila and I don't really blame you if you are cuz, man, the boobs on the girl, I mean, dang! Well she called in sick, I'm afraid. Frankly speaking though, just between you and me, I think she's just playing nookie. Wait, or was that hooky?” She shook her head. “Anyways, I think she's gone to the pie-eating contest. I mean, who wouldn't? Pies are great! Why, if only I'd know about it sooner, you know, I wouldn't have agreed to fill in for her and I'd be at the Pie-Pie Emporium myself this very moment. Sigh!”

The poor Bond Nerd was frozed stiff, his countenance ashen. His eyes were wide open, veritable saucers upon his shocked, distorted face.

It was her. That Mallet Girl cosplayer. All dressed now in a cute waitress uniform.

It was her. She even had a small, smiling mallet drawn on her name tag.

It was her! He thought he had gotten away but it was all a lie! A lie! It was simply too much for his already over-stressed heart.

“So what can I getcha?” Mallet Girl asked.

But for the answer, there came none. Clutching his chest tightly, the Bond Nerd keeled over ever so slowly. Silently, he slid off the stool and fell on the floor with a dull thud.

Mallet girl leaned over the counter to look down on him. “Hey, buddy, you okay?”

No answer. Not even a sound did he make. The Bond Nerd didn't move at all and he was starting to froth at the mouth.

“Oh, dear,” Mallet Girl went. “Does this mean I won't be getting any tip? Aw, man. And I was gonna complement you on your looks, too. You must be a celebrity or something cuz you look awfully familiar.”

CHAPTER DISCLAIMER

No actual nerds were killed in this chapter. Maimed? Yes. Hospitalized? Yes. Terrified to within an inch of their life? Yes. Beate, bashed, broken, and stomped? Yes, yes, yes, and yes. But killed? No.

CHAPTER DISCLAIMER DISCLAIMER

No actual nerds were killed OR hurt in any way whatsoever in this chapter. Any violence thus depicted was just a figment of the author's twistedly sick sense of humor and imagination. He is currently receiving treatment as per the orders of the court.

Incidentaly, it will be some time yet before the next chapter is written and thus presented for your enjoyment. We here at Junkyard Press beg your pardon and patient consideration.

In the meantime, please enjoy this lovely elevator music rendition of the heavy metal band Goat The Sequel's new hit single “Sticky Love For Bleeding Orifice”.

INTERLUDE -- MEET THE FAMILY

Jake's Assorted Junk Thrift Mall. At least, according to the rusted, faded, hand-painted sign hanging on the wire fence with barbed wire coiled at the top, just beside the front gates.

The place was actually known to the residents of the fair city as the Axion Plus Junkyard. Or App-J for short. It was the biggest junkyard in Axion Plus City, located just outside the city proper but still well within the city limits.

In the light of the full moon, an old television set with bent rabbit ears antenna lay at the summit of the tallest mountain of assorted junk at the center of the main yard, surrounded by a maze of pile up, old, broken down cars. The television switched on by itself. The screen showed nothing but static at first, a thick flurry of electric snow. Then the television set quieted down and show a blank white screen.

For a moment there was silence, save for the faint sounds of various heavy machinery in the distance.

The television screen flickered and then...

“Howdy-howdy-howdy!” A pint-sized version of Mallet Girl but with a rather over-sized head popped into view, waving her right hand in greeting. “It's me! Chibi Mally!” She nodded. “Chibi Mally! Yep! That's my name and don't you forget it!”

“I'm just like Mallet Girl,” she continued, balancing a red croquet ball on the tip of her right index finger whilst spinning a wooden mallet like a cheerleader's baton with her other hand, “only much more adorable.”

“Hey!” a voice protested from off-screen. It was Mallet Girl.

“Now, now, Mallet Girl,” a man's voice replied. “You can't inflict bodily harm on Chibi Mallet Girl just yet. We still haven't finished paying for her yet and we're still waiting for news on her insurance application.”

“Whoopsy!” Chibi Mallet Girl let out an embarassed giggle. “I though she had left already.”

“You can't treat me like this!” Mallet Girl cried. “I'm the star of this show! I'm leaving!”

There were sounds of foot steps followed by a door creaking open and then slamming shut.

Chibi Mallet Girl waited for a couple of moments to make sure that Mallet Girl wasn't coming back. “Whew!” she said then. “For a minute there, I was afraid she was gonna go ballistic again. She can be quite the spoiled, violent diva, that girl.” She nodded knowingly, with her eyes closed.

Suddenly, a shrill whistle sounded. A badly pixelated, diminutive mailman marched across the screen; so terribly and choppily animated was he, just like the video game characters of yore. He handed Chibi Mallet Girl a small, white envelop, tipped his hat, and then marched off the screen.

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“Now then,” she panted, casually tossing aside what remained of the wooden dais, “just one more and I'll have gotten the complete set.”

She turned around to see the last remaining Nerd disappear down an open trapdoor in the stage floor towards the rear of the stage. It seemed that the man had discovered one of the secret passageways leading out of the building for the exclusive use of celebrities and star performers wishing to avoid the fuss and unwanted attention of rabid fans and paparazzis alike.

“What the--!?” Mallet Girl exclaimed in surprise. She was quick to recover however and drew yet another one of her wooden mallets from her back. “Hey! Come back here you! I said come back here! Oooh! Bond Nerd, I challenge you! You hear me? Hey!”

But the Bond Nerd was not listening. He had been shown the path to salvation, the way out of this horrible nightmare. He was not about to stop for anything.

He was the complete opposite of the super spy he adored and admired so much. A gaunt-looking, nervous little man, he was completely devoid of the suave, calculating deameanor of Agent 007. Why, he couldn't even pull off the legendary character's signature statement properly, not even if his own life depended on it.

Down the narrow staircase the terrified, little Nerd stumbled and into the dimly-lit corridor below. It was narrow, just as a little wider than the staircase, but it mattered little to the poor Bond Nerd. He just kept on running and running with nary a pause or thought as to where the dark corridor was leading to, visions of the rampaging devil woman nipping at his heels lending wings to his faltering feet and legs.

The corridor was long and winding but finally he found himself clambering up the short staircase at the end of it. He threw open the door and fell into a deserted alleyway, several buildings away from the veritable hellhole that had been Building 85. He was out at last and bathing in the fading light of setting sun.

But still he was not away far enough. Escape still remained but an elusive dream for he could still hear her calling out to him, calling out his name. Oh, that voice! That horrible, nightmarish voice! Not unlike the sound made by a tin can slowly being crushed but intensified a hundredfold. He would remember that voice for the rest of his life, such as it was.

“Come back here, Bond Nerd! Face your beating like a man!”

Shrieking in abject terror, he scrambled to his feet in all desperation. He ran and he ran and he ran, crashing into many a trash can, sidewalk sign, and occasional mime. Past shops and stores he fled. Past startled pedestrians who stared at him in wonder, completely oblivious to his plight.

Everything appeared distorted to his fevered mind. The people. The cars and buses. The neon signs. The fiberglass mascots standing in front of the shops. Everything, even the most mundane of objects, appeared to be dark and twisted versions of themselves, all seeking to put an end to his sorry, miserable existence.

“No!” he cried out. “Keep away! Oh, Jesus! Oh, sweet Moneypenny, save me!”

And so he continued running. And run he did until he could run no more, collapsing in a heap in a dark alley, sobbing and gasping for breath.

He lay there on the filth-ridden, slime-covered concrete, shivering and crying. With trembling hands, he covered his face as though to shield himself from the horrors, both real and imagined, but mostly imagined, that were besetting him.

It took him a while to recover, to regain enough composure and courage as to lift his head and look about him. And when he finally did, he found himself in the middle of a dark, deserted alleyway, the cold night air heavy with the stench of rotting garbage emanating from the dumpster nearby. Yeah, it was already evening. He must have been running for more than a couple of hours. Quite a feat indeed considering he was neither athletic nor possessed of a robust constitution; he had never ran even a fraction of a mile in his entire life.

But this amazing achievement was lost upon him for so concerned was he with his own safety, both physically and mentally. He looked here and there, left and right several times just to make doubly sure, until he finally allowed himself a sigh of relief. That woman was nowhere to be seen. He had succeeded in losing that monster and he was safe at last.

Slowly, he made his way out of the alley, shoulders slumped, head bowed, for though a great weight had just been lifted off him, he found himself at the very brink of exhaustion. He considered calling the cops, going to the precinct even. But then, he paused, if he did go to the police, that woman might take it as a personal affront; he could only imagine the vengeance she would exact upon him then.

The poor Bond Nerd shuddered.

She may only have been cosplaying Mallet Girl but she was still quite the formidable force to reckon with. No doubt the cops will be hardpressed indeed to bring her in. Why, they might even have to call in the real Mallet Girl to deal with her. If only she hadn't been so crazy, she would have been perfect to play Mallet Girl.

He noticed a diner to his right. “PAPAYA-RAMA-LAMA” the sign above the door said in bright red, orange, and yellow neon lights.

His stomach growled as if in response.

Perhaps a little bite to eat was just the thing he needed to help soothe his frazzled nerves and clear his head? Yes, a bite to eat. Oh, and a smoothie. He was parched. He'll make up his mind after eating on whether or not he should report the incident.

And so the Bond Nerd entered the Papaya-Rama-Lama Diner.

A small bell rang as he opened the door. Looking around, he saw that all the booths were occupied and he had no choice but to take seat by the counter. He waved at the waitress behind the counter as soon as he was seated. “Um, excuse me.”

The girl's back was toward him. His eyes widened as she turned around and greeted him with a perky smile.

“I'll be right there,” she replied. She refilled one of the cups on the counter with coffee. “Think fast, Gramps!” she then cried out as she gave the cup and saucer a quick push, sending them sliding fast towards the far end of the counter. Without waiting to see if the old seated at the far end caught the cup and saucer or not, she returned the carafe to the coffeemaker and then turned and stepped toward the Bond Nerd.

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“Get ready to move,” he continued. “We're going in!”

The security guards on the scene glanced at each other, unsure of what to do or say.

“Well? Don't just stand there like idiots! Get a move on!”

“Sir,” one of the guards eventually said. “Don't you think we should wait for the police?”

“Forget the police,” another guard mumbled to the one next to him, “we'd be better off calling in the army.”

The security head could not believe his ears. “Are you deaf, man? They are dying in there! We don't have time to wait! It's high time you really earned your paychecks, boys.”

“But, sir, it's Mallet Girl.”

“M-M-Mallet Girl!?” The man nearly fainted at the mention of her name. He had dealt with her before, back when he was still the president and owner of his own corporation. That had been a pure and unadulterated disaster and it was only because of his father-in-law's connections that he managed to get appointed to the prestigious position of head of security of all of Studiotown.

“Mallet Girl, you say? Aherm-herm! Uh, yes, of course. Quite right, we should wait for the cops to show up and let them handle this mess. Quite right. Good call there, Johnson. Carry on, men. Carry on!”

And with that, the poor man retreated to the relative safety of his car. He legs couldn't carry him fast enough. He wasted no time in driving back to his house. With that mallet-wielding calamity on steroids around, he was not about to take any chances. He quickly packed his clothes and hurried off to the airport. He can only hope that it wasn't too late already and that he can get enough distance between him and Studiotown before the proverbial shit hit the ceiling fan. Such was the state of mind he was in that he completely forgot all about his wife and children.

Meanwhile back inside Building 85, Mallet Girl was just about done. She had long since lost track of the time but it no longer mattered. She was just having too much fun. Why, she hadn't enjoyed herself this much since kindergarten. Yep, that day a couple of weeks ago sure was a hoot! Too bad Aunt Mitzy swore she'll never let little Mel take her to school for Show & Tell ever again.

Only two of the Nerds were still standing, still conscious and relatively unhurt, that is. Mallet Girl had chased them back to the stage and had cornered one of them by the five-tiered dais. She was just about to give the poor, cringing, gibbering fellow one more whack with a heavy rubber mallet when her eyes alit upon the words written on the Nerd's sash.

She paused.

“Hentai Nerd?” she murmured to herself. “Hentai Nerd...Hentai...” She pursed her lips in deep thought even as she tapped her chin with the mallet absentmindedly. “Hhhmmm...hentai...? Now where have I heard that word before? Wait...”

Her eyes widened as the realization slowly sunk through her thick skull and into her mallet-obsessed brain. She stared at her mallet and then at the Hentai Nerd and then back at the mallet.

The Hentai Nerd was a short and portly youth, no older than sixteen years of age. Bucktoothed, with small beady eyes hidden behind large, half-inch-thick prescription glasses, his black hair cropped short the shape of a rice bowl.

“Eeewww!” Mallet Girl cried out in utter disgust and dismay, letting go of her once precious rubber mallet as though it had been tainted with deadly plague. Or worse, cooties. “Gross! I can't believe I touched it with my mallet! Oh, my poor rubber mallet! It was custom-made!”

She pointed at the Hentai Nerd with a trembling finger. “Why you-you...you... Aahhh!” She pulled at her hair in frustration. “No fair! I'm not touching that!”

And so the Hentai Nerd looked quite relieved indeed. He had always known this particular hobby of his was going to save his life one day. He wiped the snot dripping from his nose with the back of his hand. “Oh, thank goodnesh!” he lisped.

But the young man's elation was short-lived. He watched in horror as Mallet Girl took hold of the five-tiered dais and proceeded to lift it off the floor. The dais, though made of mere wood and nails, was large and sturdy enough to hold twenty people. It was as heavy as a small car but even then the dais, creaking and groaning, began to rise slowly and with one final heave, she pushed it over her head.

“Hah!” she cried out triumphantly.

“Wait!” the Hentai Nerd shouted desperately. “You shaid you weren't going to toush me!”

“Well, duh!” Mallet Girl replied. “Fists and mallets are too precious to waste on the likes of you. This is more than good enough!”

“Waaaaahhhhh!” the Hentai Nerd screeched in terror, shielding his face with his arms as the wooden structure descended down upon him.

“Die-die-die-die-die!” Mallet Girl went, repeatedly slamming the five-tiered dais down upon the poor, wretched fellow.

“Oh, the pain! The agony!” the Hentai Nerd screamed. “Mashter Happy, make it shtop! Oh, make it shtop!”

Mallet Girl screamed as well. “Aaahhh, die already! Why won't you die!?”

“Aaaiiieeee!”

“Graaaahhhhh!”

Eventually though the poor boy did moving and he made no more sounds.

Mallet Girl was out of breath. That had used up more energy that she would have cared to admit but it was all well worth the effort, she thought. Suffer not the hentai to live as the old saying went. Or at least as she remembered it.

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And with that, she drew a wooden mallet from the holster at her back and with a flip of her foot, she flipped up the wooden mallet lying on the floor, sending it spinning into the air. She had let go of that mallet when she dealt with Kawaii Nerd who was just too cute to be struck with a mallet. It simply wasn't done. Yeah. Fists were much better. Deftly, she caught the mallet with her free hand and then let out a wolf howl that could be heard throughout the whole building.

The blood-curdling cry froze the remaining Nerds in their tracks, like hapless animals caught in the headlight beams on a oncoming truck.

A group of them, seven in all, stood huddled in the corner of a backroom. They had barricaded themselves in, barring the double-doors with chairs and crates and all sorts of TV props. They had heard that horrible sound and nearly half of them fainted. Shortly thereafter, the horrific screams of their brethren began.

“Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh! Noooooooooooo!!!”

“Aaaaiiiigggghhhh-gllrrrggghhhh-kkk-kkk-kkkk!”

“Ack, noooo! Let go of me! Waaaghhh! Ah-hu-hu-hu! It doesn't bend that way! It doesn't bend that way!!!”

“Monster! She's a friggin' monster!”

“S-stay away, you! I-I have a slide rule and I'm nod afraid to use it! Don't come any closer! I'm serious! Aaiiieee, nooooo! She's taken away my slide rule and now she's sticking it up my--”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

And then there was silence. Silence so deafening that the suspense was just too much to bear for the frazzled nerves of the poor, hapless Nerds that a couple of them fell to their knees, clutching at their ears.

“Oh-god-oh-god-oh-god-oh-god-oh-god!” one of them went. It was the Silent Movies Nerd. “We're all going to die! I just know it! She's gonna kill us all!”

The others tried to quiet him down.

“No, no, hush up, man!” the Math Nerd desperately implored him. “She's going to hear you!”

“We're all going to die!” the Silent Movies Nerd continued to scream. “If only the real Mallet Girl was here! She'd save us from this monster!”

“You'll doom us all, you idiot!” the Super Villain Nerd growled under his breath, shaking a trembling fist at the prostrated man; the Silent Movies Nerd was now lying on the floor, flat on his face, his hands clutched together over his head in prayer to God and to Mallet Girl for salvation.

But it was all too late. The room literally shook when the double-doors were suddenly struck with a tremendous force from the outside. It was Mallet Girl.

“I hears you, my little mousies,” she cooed. “Come out, come out! And let's play a smashing game of croquet.”

She rammed the doors with her shoulder. Then she gave them a kick. And then another and another and another. Blow upon blow she delivered upon these wooden doors, each terrific blow rocking the doors that the very hinges themselves threatened to give way at any moment.

But the double-doors held. They seemed to be made of sterner stuff that she had anticipated. Something valuable must have been stored in this room at one time or another, she thought. Mallet Girl grinned. It looked like she was going to have to bring out the big guns after all. She had been slumming it all this while, taking it easy. It was time to get serious. What joy!

She reached back over her shoulder for yet another mallet, one of the bigger ones this time, fashioned from dark, heavy hardwood. She had the mallet half-drawn when she noticed something very interesting. She paused. “Hang on a minute,” she murmured.

“She-she stopped,” the Math Nerd stammered. He laughed nervously. “She can't get in. Ha-ha-ha! She can't get in! We're saved!”

“Oh, thank God!” the Silent Movies Nerd exclaimed.

“Alright!” the Video Games Nerd said as he faced the others. “You hear that, guys? She can't get in. She really can't get in! Ha-ha-ha! Whew! For a moment there, I really thought we were done for.”

“We're saved!” cried the Silent Movies Nerd, tears streaming down his face like a mini waterfalls. He was still lying on the floor. “We're really sa--”

The nervous, hysterical laughter of the Nerds were all cut short by the slow but very audible creaking of the doors swinging open. Wide-eyed with terror but still clinging to the fleeting hope that their ears were deceiving them, the Nerds turned around as one to see Mallet Girl peeking out at them through the half-open double-doors of the backroom. Grinning from ear to ear, there was a hungry look upon her face.

In their panic, in their haste to close the doors and bar them with whatever they could get their hands on, it seemed the Nerds had not only forgotten to lock the double-doors but they plum failed to notice that they opened outward into the corridor instead of inward into the room.

Mallet Girl licked her lips greedily. “I see you!” she whispered out lout and ever so slowly.

The desperate cries and screams of the Nerds could be heard from miles away.

Outside Building 85, a very large crowd had gathered. People from the game show's audience and studio staff. People from the other buildings. The Studiotown security had cordoned off the area and closed down the whole lot itself.

“My God!” one of the security guards exclaimed. “They're getting killed in there!”

“Alright, men! Listen up!” the head of security bellowed. He slammed the door of his car shut. He had just arrived it seemed and was in quite the dark mood for it. He had just been apprised of the situation. The one time this month he had decided to come in late and this happened. Clearly he needed to get a handle on this situation personally and quickly, else he'll never hear the end of it back at the club.

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“Mally, no!!!” Danielle and Roseanne shouted out in unison.

Mark could only cover his face with his right hand and shake his head slowly.

“Oh, will you look a time1” George exclaimed. He indicated the nonexistent watch on his wrist. “Didn't realize how late it was. We should get going, guys.”

Jenna regarded him with mild amusement. “You know what?” she replied with a slight smile at the corner of her darkened lips. “I think you are right.”

And with that, they all made a hasty retreat.

“Oh, Georgie, I don't think Mally knows how this game is played at all,” Roseanne commented.

“Graaahhh!” Mallet Girl growled as she charged towards the hapless Star Trek Nerd, her mallet held in both hands and poised to strike.

Everyone in the studio, from the host to the audience to the guy waving and pointing to the audience prompter screen, was just too stunned to do anything but watch in silence, aghast and filled with the morbid fascination that invariably infected people in the street who were about to witness a car accident. Time itself seemed to slow down as Mallet Girl barreled down upon her prey. She fell upon the Star Trek Nerd like a crazed carpenter, hitting him again and again, pummeling him senseless with her mallet. And all the while, the happy, snappy tune of the game show's theme music continued to play in the background.

A scream pierced the air. It was one of Geraldo's assistants, the one in the sexy Nicki-Nicki the Cultured Feline Girl costume. Her shrill, horrified voice was more than enough to set loose the brakes that been clamped upon the gears of time and the whole studio erupted into chaos. Panicking like a herd of cattle spooked by a sudden loud bang, the studio audience bolted and scrambled toward the exit signs, their screams and shouts mingling with those of the poor, terrified Nerds who had scattered in all directions trying to get as far away as possible from the crazy, violent girl and her mallet.

Her mallet. Oh, how wicked it looked to their fear-addled minds!

But there was nowhere to go. All the front and side exits were blocked, jam-packed with people trying to get out. All the windows were barred and shut. And it seemed that all the TV crew and stage hands had beat them to the rear exits at the back of the stage and, in their haste and terror, had blocked and barricaded the doors with crates and dumpsters and whatever else they could get their hands on; it never occurred to them, it seemed, that Mallet Girl was only interested in one thing. Beating the Nerds. It was name of the show after all.

Oh, yes. The poor Nerds were trapped.

Mallet Girl laughed out maniacally to the point of cackling, filled as she was with glee and overwhelming exultation. Now this was a game show she could truly sink her teeth into! Not like those other boring game shows. She stood triumphantly over the unconscious form of the Star Trek Nerd. Having made quick work of him, she was ready for more; she was far from done and satisfied for pummeling down the Star Trek Nerd to submission had only served to whet her considerable appetite for violence and destruction. She was just getting started after all and there were still nineteen of them left.

She caught sight of the Nerd nearest her, the Kawaii Nerd, a bespectacled girl with long pigtails who had tripped and fallen. The Sentai Nerd, a young boy no more than twelve years of age, was helping her up.

Mallet Girl grinned excitedly. Hah! Two for the price of one!

“You two!” she called out to them, brandishing her closed, right fist. “I challenge you!”

The Kawaii Nerd had barely stopped screaming when Geraldo stepped forwardd, waving his arms trying to get everyone's attention. “P-p-people, please,” he stammered out. “Everyone, please calm down!”

Fervently, he tried to think of what else to say or do to get the show back on track. He had to do something and he better do it quick. Never mind that he had nothing to do with Mallet Girl's violent and inexplicable outburst but the higher ups were bound to come down hard on him for this. They'd blame him for sure and he could kiss the career he had worked so hard to build goodbye.

But his pleas for order and sanity were cut short even before he could get started when the Sentai Nerd crashed into him, having been sent flying into the air by a well-executed roundhouse kick. And so the game show host and Nerd alike collapsed to the floor into one big heap.

Mallet girl let out a terrible roar, arms outstretched, fists at the ready. Seventeen to go. Seventeen more moles to whack. Oh, this was so much fun! What joy! Whoever will she challenge next? That, in itself, was just as fun as beating the crap out these guys.

But they were making it far too easy for her. They weren't even putting up much of a fight. They were just running around like headless cockroaches. Why, even her opponents were nigh hopeless. There were nowhere to be seen! She was going to win this thing for sure, hands down and without even breaking a sweat.

Oh, without a doubt that would be most grand indeed. But she had never the kind of gal to take the easy route. What kind of game show was this anyways? While she hadn't seen a single episode of the show, she was sure it was going to be much more challenging than this. Unless...

Unless it was all part of the game somehow? Oh, sure, these guys were weak as heck but maybe...just maybe...it was a time challenge? Yes! That had got to be it! Her opponents, the other two contestants, that Cutie Sammy geezer and that what's-her-name girl, were probably in some backroom or something awaiting their turns. Yeah. And the contestant with the shortest time will be declared the winner.

That was most probably it!

“Oh, yeah!” she exclaimed. “If that's the way the game's played, well then, get ready, boys, cuz here I come! I'll do you all in record time!”

Mallet Girl paused. “Wait. That didn't come out right.”

But she quickly dismissed the thought and shook her head. “Aw, who the heck cares? It's mallet time!”

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She waved to the audience with a great big smile on her face as the game show host called out her name.

Again more cheers and applause.

And then finally, there was Mallet Girl. She had straight black hair, cropped short that it barely reached down to the level of her chin. Her build was small but athletic. She was rather on the short side but no one talked about her lack of height or, for that matter, about her not-so-well-endowed chest. Ever. Not unless they fancied meeting the business end of a mallet.

It being a work day, she had on her usual work clothes. A white, round-necked T-shirt, raggedly cut short at the midriff. A small, unbuttoned denim vest worn over the T-shirt. Black cycling shorts. Light-brown leather gloves. And over-sized, hi-cut rubber shoes, perfect for running, jumping, and stomping the crap out of nosy do-gooders and criminals alike.

And she had mallets. Mallets for just about every occasion. And boy, did she have mallets! Small ones. Big ones. Wooden ones. Metal ones. Even plastic ones. The bigger and longer mallets hung from her back in a custom-made leather holster while the smaller, lighter ones hung from her slender waist courtesy of a heavy-duty utility belt.

She let out a battle cry as her name was called out, much to the delight of the studio audience.

“Oh, wow!” Alicia exclaimed, clapping her hands. “I simply adore your costume. You look exactly like her! Oh, you must introduce me to your seamstress and designer. You simply must. Although, I must say, I thought the real Mallet Girl was taller. You should've worn shoe sole inserts.”

She was lucky. She would have gotten a fractured forehead for her trouble, a concussion at the very least, had Mallet Girl been listening. As it was, she wasn't even aware that someone was talking to her. She was just too excited.

“Yeah! You can do this, Mallet Girl!” she encouraged herself. “You can do this! You weren't afraid of the Bagel Don or the Sushi Brothers or even the Striped Cereal Killer. And if you can face down the Muffin Mafia and the Curry Thugees and the Chuckwagon Bandits, you can definitely take on these Nerds.”

She pointed at the Nerds standing on the dais. “Oh, yeah!” she cried out. “You guys are going down!”

And the crowd exploded, rocking the studio to its very foundation with their cheers and applause. Mallet Girl was just that popular.

Her friends were worried though. They had come to root for their friend although they already knew that all this was just one big publicity stunt. Still, each one hoped that Mallet Girl will win a cool prize, something they could “borrow” for extended periods of time. Mallet Girl was such a ditz that she most likely won't even notice at all or even forget about it altogether.

There's Jenna and then Mark standing beside her. There were also George, Danielle and Roseanne. Jenna was dressed all in black. As usual. Her long overcoat. Her red-trimmed corset. Her patchwork skirt. Even her heavy-duty combat boots. All black. Even her lipstick was black. And she was wearing too much mascara and eyeliner. Now one could say this raven-haired, pasty-skinned girl was goth or even emo. Indeed one could very well call her that but only if one wanted a fist in the nose, that is. She had never been, not even for a moment of her life, goth or emo or anything like that. She just liked wearing black, is all. That's what she claimed at least.

It was this penchant for violence, in fact, that had made her so close to Mallet Girl back when they were still little kids. Like peas in a pod they were, feisty little fireballs taking on and beating the crap out of the older, bigger delinquents in the neighborhood. She had grown more matured since then, more subdued and less prone to lashing out with her fists. Case in point, it had been weeks now since she last sent someone to the hospital. Yeah, it wasn't much but it was something at least. Better than nothing.

The others were pretty much normal and nondescript. And they were still wearing their work clothes, having gone to the studio straight from their respective offices. They cared not for cosplaying besides. Nope. Not one bit. They came only to support their friend and wish her well and that was it. Well, there was the prospect of Mallet Girl winning something but that was really it and nothing more.

They had been enthusiastic at first. But now they were concerned somewhat for they had all noticed the look on Mallet Girl's face, that glint in her eyes as she slammed her fists together. They had seen that look before and that look never boded well.

“Uh-oh,” George remarked, “I don't know about you guys but I don't like the looks of the that.”

Mark and Danielle echoed his sentiments.

“Oh, no,” went Roseanne, looking at the others, “you don't suppose...she couldn't possibly take all this seriously...she wouldn't, right? Oh, she just wouldn't!”

But the others could not answer. They could only stare back at her with grave looks on their faces.

She let out a nervous giggle. “No, she wouldn't! It's just a game after all. Not even Mally is that stupid.”

Jenna looked most dubious indeed but she didn't say anything to the others. She trained her eyes back to her childhood friend. “Huh, I wonder...” she murmured to herself.

“And now,” the game show host finally declared, “the moment we've all been waiting for! It's time to BEAT! THE! NERDS!”

Suddenly Alicia let out a surprised, terrified screech, stopping everyone in their tracks even as Mallet Girl spurred into action. She had whipped out one of her mallets and in one fell swipe, smashed all three wooden podiums, shattering them like so much clay pottery and sending splinters and dust into the air. She then leapt forward and upon landing, pointed her mallet at one of the Nerds.

“Star Trek Nerd,” she cried out in all seriousness, “I challenge you!”

“Whelp, there she goes,” Jenna said. “Really, I'm surprised she lasted this long.”

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CHAPTER ONE
Axion Plus City. Studiotown. Building 85. The popular retro game show “Beat the Nerds” was about to begin.

The game show studio was comprised of a semi-circular stage set on one side of a large, warehouse-like room; there were no chairs, the audience being expected to stand and cheer the contestants on.

The stage itself was made of three parts. A five-tiered dais on the right side where the show's nerds stood and waited to be challenged by the contestants to a battle of wits and memory. Three podiums for the game contestants on the left side of the stage. And the central part of the stage for the game show host and his sexy assistants.

“Welcome, everybody, the game show host greeted the studio audience and TV viewers alike, making doubly sure that the camera was getting a shot of his good side, “to BEAT! THE! NERDS!”

With great enthusiasm and excitement, the audience shouted out the show's name with him and all together, they emphasized each word with a fist punch into the air.

The game show host was garbed in the voluminous and colorful robes of the Rainbow King from the old cartoon series “The Daimyo and I”, his big, fat, but perferctly coiffed hair a matching accessory to his costume. Like the host, most of the audience were in costume, dressed as their favorite cartoon characters. All aspects of the animated world from the traditional hand-drawn classics to the computer-generated shows, from kiddie cartoons to adult-oriented specials, from American shows to Japanese anime. Why, there's Markey Mouse and his cutesy girlfiend Mammie Mouse. There's the ever-popular Arachnid-Boy and Bat Knight and Wonder Amazon and all the other super heroes and villains. There's Astro Kid and Grandeurizer and Mangazinger C and the Lunar Sailor Girls and all sorts of Japanese characters. There were even a couple of guys wearing Jimmy the Pedo Ferret costumes.

Several women appeared to be wearing the same costume, that of Mallet Girl, a local favorite and star of the on-going anime and manga Star-Crossed Mallets, first serialized in the hardware magazine KNOBS after the animated commercial of the Mallet Girl Delivery and Bountyhunting Services went viral a couple of years ago.

“I am Geraldo Blanco,” the game show host continued. “I will be your host this afternoon. And these,” he then said as he gestured with a flourish to the men and women standing on the different steps of the five-tiered dais, “are your Nerds!”

“Nerds! Nerds! Nerds! Nerds!” the audience chanted.

The Nerds, ranging from young to old, were all wearing identical black graduation togas and caps, but with each one bearing a different sash wrapped around the chest. All in all, there were twenty of them. There's the Science Nerd. And his little brother the Science Tech Nerd. And then there's the Math Nerd. And the Web Comic Nerd, the Super Hero Nerd, the Super Villain Nerd, the Star Trek Nerd, the Bond Nerd, and the Video Game Nerd. To name a few.

Geraldo paused and waited, just long enough for the cheers and applause to die down somewhat, then he turned and gestured to his right, at the three people standing at the podiums, swaying and moving their arms to the beat of the show's theme music playing in the background.

“Now give it up, folks,” he exclaimed in his marvelously practiced baritone, “for today's lucky contestants!” He pointed to first one and then to the next one and then to the last one, calling out their names in turn. “Mystical Lass Cutie Sammy! Her magical ears can hear an anvil drop a mile away! And next up, Alicia! Her Wondrousland Adventures get curiouser and curiouser! And last but certainly not the least, Mallet Girl! Axion P's very own! Delivery guaranteed or the breakage is free!”

The contestants were greeted with more cheers and applause.

Those were not their real names, of course, but rather the names of the characters they were cosplaying. Well, except for Mallet Girl; she was the real deal, the real McCoy, the genuine article, certified and true. She's the actual Mallet Girl, in person and, most indubitably, in the flesh. The studio higher ups, it seemed, had thought it a most novel idea indeed to have the real Mallet Girl participate in the show as one of the contestants, her real identity to be revealed at the end of the show. It truly was a great publicity stunt, the perfect way to promote the upcoming release of the much awaited Mallet Girl video game “From My Mallet With Love”.

In theory at least.

Mystical Lass Cutie Sammy was a sixteen-year-old girl, a high school student who transformed into a petite eight-year-old magical princess warrior of love and justice with a wave of her magical wand. The contestant wearing her costume however was far from being a high school student or a little girl. He wasn't even a girl but a frail, sixty-five-year-old man with a bushy mustache. He was garbed in the frilly lace dress typical of the magical princess fashion, a bright orange number with red trims and an over-sized laced ribbon set in the back. The dress was cut rather short though as was typical of the style, revealing the man's hairy legs and knobby knees, veins and all. And he had on a large, poofy, red wig, the signature coif of Cutie Sammy, and held in gloved hands a ribbon-swathed wand.

“Ho-ho-ho!” he cried out in a falsetto voice, raising his wand high in the air with both hands as his name was called out. “Evil-doers and dark-dwellers beware! For I am the light that showers the world with love and beauty! I am Mystical Lass Cutie Sammy!”

And with that, he wave his wand around with his right hand and performed a pirouette in imitation of Cutie Sammy's graceful, ribbon-swirling, magical transformation routine. He did the best he could. Such as it was. He was an old man, after all. To his credit, he did manage to keep himself from falling over.

As bad as his performance was, there was something even more terrifying about it all. Old man panty shot.

It seemed to matter little to the studio audience though. Unperturbed they continued to cheer and applaud with great enthusiasm and excitement. Well, it was written on the prompter screen after all and pie had been promised.

Alicia was the young, female protagonist of the classic, long-running adventure series Wondrousland Adventures, based on the children's book “Alicia in Wondrousland” and its sequel “Through the Bathroom Glass”. The contestant wearing her costume was quite the opposite of the old man. She was pretty true to the character with the one exception of age for while Alicia was a prepubescent girl, the contestant was a seventeen-year-old girl. She had beautiful, bouncy blond hair that reached down a couple of inches below the shoulder, held in place by a blue lace ribbon. She had on a light-blue baby doll dress, which she topped off with a lace-trimmed, white apron.

HEY THERE!

Well hello there!  Guess you stumbled into this place but unfortunately, there's nothing here yet.  I'm currently typing up and putting together what I'll eventually be posting in this here little corner of Blogspot.

Probably next week I'll have something ready

Ah, well.  Welcome anyways.  :)

In the meantime, if you want to, you can mosey on over to the wolf pad to see news on my other projects.  Well, currently I only have project going on other than this but I plan to do more.

Eventually.