Because You Demanded It!
Ok... Only If by “You”, I Mean Your Name Is Dale....

Halloween Not-So Special #3

“Monster Strike”

by That Same Guy Who Does This Ridiculous Thing Every Year

(Daaaaaave... we've been through this before...)
(grumble, mumble, unprintable)

David Marshall
(SIGH)

I shuffled out of my bedroom in my bunny slippers and made my way to the refrigerator. There was no beer inside but I found some milk that wasn’t too badly spoiled and took a big gulp straight from the jug.

“What the..?” It was Louie. He fell asleep on my couch the night before while we were watching “Cosmic Girls Gone Wild” with his cousin Stanley, a.k.a the Phantom Stranger and some of our other friends.

“I’m just getting some milk,” I whispered. “Don’t mind me.”

Louie sat up. “That milk’s spoiled. I took a big swig from the same jug last night. It smells like stinky feet.”

I spewed the milk all over the cabinets. “You could have warned me!”

“I was asleep!” Louie huffed. “Until you woke me up being so loud.”

The thought of my lips touching where Louie’s had been only scant hours before disgusted me. I wouldn’t even kiss Power Girl if I knew Louie had slobbered all over her first. Ok, maybe a little peck, just not too much tongue. Unless of course she used hers first. I’d be obligated to then, right? But I digress.

The door to the spare bedroom creaked opened. Louie usually crashed there, but not last night.

“What’s all the noise in here?” Stanley asked as he stumbled into the room wearing his genuine FDC pajamas. He scratched his butt. No kidding. I mean REALLY scratched his butt. You’d have thought he was mining for Kryptonite ore the way he was digging.

“Oh, hey Stanley,” I said. “What time did the Silver Surfer leave last night?”

Stanley considered my question with great thought. “Let’s see. Louie fell asleep about four-thirty, and we watched the World Series of Poker after Cosmic Girls Gone Wild went off, so I’d say about five-fifteen or so. He gave Peabody a lift, something about Sherman not doing well with babysitters.”

“Who was babysitting him?” Louie asked.

“Dumb Bunny from the Inferior Five,” Stanley replied.

“Hubba! Hubba!” Louie shouted. “That dingy broad can babysit me anytime!”

“Yeah, what a ditz,” I laughed. “Sherman tricked her into doing all his chores last time she babysat.”

“But oh what a broad!” said Louie.

“Yeah, what a broad,” I echoed.

Stanley smiled. “I’ll have Silver Surfer talk with the Watcher about filming her for the next Cosmic Girls collection.”

“I don’t believe you!” I yelled. “She’s one of our associates from right here in the FDC Universe! It’s not like she’s one of those cheap, easy chicks from the Indy publishers! You’d really subject her to flaunting her assets on a sordid dvd for your tawdry fanboy thrills?”

“Absolutely!” said Stanley. “Have you seen the size of her...”

Louie flipped on the television and it was so loud it drowned Stanley out so I wasn’t sure what part of Dumb Bunny’s anatomy he was referring to. I guess some things are best left unspoken.

“.... Breaking News, the Universal Monsters have gone on strike right before Halloween! The spokesman for the Monsters, Count Dracula said in a short statement released to the media today that the Monsters regret management has forced them to evoke such drastic measures. Many labor observers feel this strike will last well into Halloween and could ruin the retail shopping season. Live for WFDC News, this is....”

CLICK!

Louie looked grim. “Bug! We’ve gotta do something!”

“Absolutely right, Louie! I’ll send out a call to the team. We can....”

Stanley waved off our suggestion. “Oh no, you don’t! Not again this year!”

“But Stanley, we’ve saved Halloween two years in a row!” said Louie. He puffed out his chest and flashed his familiar goofy grin.

“You got lucky,” Stanely replied. “Do you have any idea what your hijinks did to the time-space continuum? The boys from the Lodge would not be happy if they have to help me sew the threads of reality back together again this year. Between these annual FDC messes and the real DC’s summer events, we’re running out of needles and thread. I’m sure there are arbitrators out there who can work out a satisfactory resolution to this monster situation.”

Louie looked deflated but I wasn’t so easily deterred.

I crossed my fingers behind my back. After all, I was the living embodiment of the Halloween season!

“No, you’re not!” said Stanley.

“I’m not what?” I asked.

“The living embodiment of the Halloween holiday season,” Stanley replied.

I was aghast! “Were you doing the fourth dimension thing on me again?”

Stanley looked away. “Well, maybe. Maybe not.”

“You were! You were SO going fourth dimension on me and reading my inner monologue! That’s just rude!” I yelled.

“Sorry,” Stanley replied. “But don’t you believe it’s presumptuous to anoint yourself with such a lofty title?”

“And what do you know about it? For your information, Louie and I have saved the holiday twice with little or no help from someone else standing in this very room!” I replied. “Someone acting very un-Phantom and un-Stranger like at the moment!”

I must have hit a nerve. Or maybe he was still steaming because I painted the word “Stanley” across the back of my FDC Direct Phantom Stranger action figure. Whatever prompted him, Stanley got in my face. “I should just hocus-pocus you out of existence or drop you into a void dimension!”

“You and what army?” I shouted back.

“Like I’d need an army!” Stanley laughed. “Maybe I’ll borrow the M.M.M.S from Silver Surfer. You’re more B-list than Alpha Flight!”

“Ha!” I shot back. “They’re dead!”

“Exactly,” Stanley answered.

Ouch! That hurt!  Had he no shame? I found his comment insensitive and offensive. It reminded me of arguing with... well, me! “Oh yeah?” I asked.

Stanley didn’t budge. “Yeah!”

“Hey guys!” said Louie. “I’ve got an idea! How’s about we make a friendly wager?”

Stanley and I turned slowly. If there was one thing a couple of wild and crazy fourth-dimensional capable characters couldn’t resist it was a wager! Besides, I already read the end of the tale. It was easy money!If not for his brain being the size of a pea, I could have mistaken Louie for a genius. A regular Albert Einstein in FDC boxers!

“A bet?” Stanley asked. “What kind of bet?”

“Give Bug a chance,” Louie replied. “If he saves the holiday again this year you have to admit in front of everyone that he is the Spirit of Halloween.”

“Deal!” Stanley shot back.

“Not so fast!” I interjected. “That sounds suspiciously like one of David’s cheap ploys to get the plot moving along!”

Stanley stopped and thought about it too. “I agree. Does either of you have the script for this debacle?”

We scavenged my apartment and Louie found David’s script in it’s usual, rightful place - lining the birdcage. He was careful not to spill birdseed and doo-doo all over the floor as he retrieved it from the cage. He quickly flipped to the second page and scanned down. His lips moved as he read.

I hate when people do that.

“Aha! Here it is!” Louie exclaimed. “Just as you suspected, Bug! He even has the nerve to write “Cheap Plot Ploy” in the margin!Like we wouldn’t know! Where does he think we got our cosmic being licenses? In a box of Captain Crunch?”

Stanley turned red.

“Wait one bloody minute!” I yelled. “You mean to tell me you got your Cosmic Being license from a box of Captain Crunch?”

“Not really,” said Stanley.

“What does that mean?” Louie asked.

Stanley sighed. “It wasn’t in the box per se. I had to send off for them,” Stanley admitted. “But it was the sixties! I had to actually save up proofs of purchase and send them by mail!”

Louie and I gasped.

“Why didn’t you just go online and fill out the forms?” Louie asked.

He was such an idiot. “Because you nitwit! Al Gore hadn’t invented the internet yet!”

“Oh!” Louie said. “I see.”

“I’m still legitimate,” said Stanley. “In fact, my circumstances make me Old School, so you gotta show some love.”

“Ok,” I admitted. “But what about David’s cheap plot devices? Does he believe he can fool us?”

“Yeah,” Louie smirked. “Who does he think we are? Readers?”

We glanced back and forth for a few awkward moments before bursting into fits of laughter. Readers! Now that was a rich one! Louie could be a funny guy sometimes without even trying. Everyone knows that the only people who read FDC are...

Well, there’s that one guy who lives in his mom’s basement. Oh, and his girlfriend, Nina. You know, the one he talks to while playing online RPG’s? They’ve never really met in person, but I heard their characters made an online baby. I’m not entirely convinced though. I mean, who has ever heard of an elf mating with a fairy?

I checked the FDC mailing list. Nothing there but offers for free financing, male enhancement, and webcam girls. But there was that one guy who... And that other guy that... who... Well, you see why it was so funny. Readers? That may have been the funniest joke in the entire Halloween Special!

“Let’s make this REALLY interesting,” I insisted.

“What do you mean?” Stanley asked.

Louie tried to squeeze in between us. “Uh.. Guys, why don’t we put in my Girls of the JLA dvd? I bought it a few days ago.”

Stanley turned to his cousin. “Really? You have Girls of the JLA? And haven’t let us watch it? I’m hurt, but I’ll deal with you holding out on us later, Louie. First I want to find out what this chump calls interesting!”

“A Buffy vs. Supergirl mud-wrestling match!” I shouted.

That sure brought the story to a screeching halt.

“That would be interesting,” Stanley admitted. “In a geeky, comic book kind of way.”

“Yeah,” Louie added. “And how can you have those two without Tanda from the MYTH books?”

Again, Stanley and I could only stare.

“Too geeky?” Louie asked.

“Too geeky,” I nodded. “Only twisted, enlightened ones read Asprin. Now can we PLEASE GET BACK TO MAKING THIS STORY INTERESTING?”

I was a bit embarrassed by my outburst but labored on. “If I can get the monsters to call off their strike then you’ll give me your Phantom Stranger powers for one day!”

Stanley shook his head. “It’s much too dangerous! You don’t realize the implication of what you ask. Do you think it possible for a mere man to hold the power of a god in his hand?”

I pointed to Louie.

“That’s different,” Stanley argued. “He’s family! Besides, I need a break every now and then and Louie fills in for me....”

“At comic book conventions and here at FDC!” I interrupted. “I’ve heard it all before! And Louie’s not really a man!”

“That’s right!” said Louie. “I’m not a man!”

“What’s wrong, STANLEY?” I taunted. “Afraid of a little competition? Or are you a cosmic chicken? Stanley, the Phantom Chicken! Even FDC wouldn’t let THAT see the light of day!”

INTERLUDE IN AMBUSH BUG’S MIND

(Imagine a big thought balloon. Oh come on fanboy! Don’t tell me you aren’t old enough to remember them! Yeah, that’s it! There you go!)

FDC PRESENTS....

Stanley the Phantom Chicken!

In

“Bug Bite”

At one time he walked the cosmos as the mysterious being known only as the Phantom Stranger. Some believed him a legend. Others whispered his name in reverence for his appearance portended great crisis! His was a lonesome lot, but now he walks the Earth as Stanley! The Phantom Chicken!

Disguised as a mild-mannered Colonel Sanders impersonator, he fights a never-ending battle against the supernatural forces of evil and the poultry union! Evil-doers shake in their plastic, Mego boots when he arrives on the scene in his familiar San Diego Chicken costume!

Yes, dear readers! Fear him! Respect him! For he is....

Stanley! The Phantom Chicken! Hear him crow!

Sound FX - Record Scratching

POP!

“What was that?” I asked.

“That was me popping your thought balloon!” Stanley answered. “That’s ridiculous! I would never wear a San Diego Chicken costume!”

“You have to admit though. It was interesting,” said Louie.

“So if you win, you get my powers for a day. And if I win?” Stanley asked.

He had me. I had to offer something good as well. “If you win, I’ll give up my sainthood.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Bug!” Stanley answered. “But ok, if it’ll teach you a lesson.”

Louie forced us to shake on the terms and we had a bet. Stanley’s power and the Chicken suit (notice how I snuck that in?) versus my patron sainthood!

“There’s only one problem,” said Stanley. “How do we brighten up David’s mundane plot? I mean this could get boring if we sit around some negotiating table discussing things like work benefits, 401K’s and schedule adherence. How is that going to hold the attention of a comic geek weaned on action and adventure?”

I nodded. Phantom Chicken or not, Stanley made a good point. “Not to mention the wooden stakes in my heart, bolts in my neck, and my allergies to the dark.”

“Exactly,” said Stanley.

“I’ve got another idea!” Louie exclaimed.

“And what would that be?” I asked.

“One word,” Louie answered. “Holodeck!”

Stanley and I looked at one another with bright smiles and slapped high fives. “Yes! Score!”

The USS Enterprise 1701D
 (Yeah, I know it was destroyed in the last movie, but deal with it, Trekkie*)

 (Actually it was 3 movies ago, but since hardly anyone saw them we won't beat you... this time.)

“Space.”

“The Final Frontier.”

“These are the voyages of the Starship Enterprise. It’s ongoing mission to seek out new worlds and new civilizations. To boldly go where no one has...”

“Oh my god, Bug! Look! It’s Captain Picard!” Louie squealed like a school-girl.

And he was right. The good captain stood behind a curtain in all his follically-challenged glory and spoke into a Mr. Microphone. So that’s how he did it! I have to admit that it was one of those Wizard of Oz-like letdowns.

“Who are you and what are you doing on my ship?” Picard demanded.

“That’s not good,” said Louie. “He only says that to the bad guys.”

“I asked you a question,” Picard demanded. “More importantly, why did you interrupt my monologue? It’s the only part of the show where I can flex my Shakespearean thespian muscles and not rattle off nonsense about phase inverters, dilithium crystals, and the names of made-up alien races.”

“You know what I hate?” Louie asked me. “That whole “where no one has gone before” bit? I liked Kirk’s original sexist, non-PC line better. It oozed testosterone! Made me want to go out and beat up the kid that down the street who looked like a Klingon and make out with his sister. Mom never would let do that though, because the kid was handicapped and his sister was really his crossdressing brother. But why change the line from “no man” to “no one?” Who did they think they’d offend anyway? It’s not like women dig the Trek. Right?”

“Oh absolutely,” I agreed. “But I’d rather hear Jean-Luc flub the line every week than to hear that crappy Dawson Creek pseudo-rock thing from Enterprise.”

Louie rolled his eyes. “Oh god yes. So UPN!”

My eyes couldn’t help but wander around the bridge. “Where’s Counselor Troi?”

Picard got in my face and barked. “I’m Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the USS Starship Enterprise and I demand to know who you area as well as why and how you’ve illegally boarded my vessel!”

Mr. Worf whipped out his phaser and trained it on us. “Captain?”

I flashed my best Live Long and Prosper and elbowed Louie so he’d do the same. “Easy, Professor X! We come in peace.”

I watched in horror as I learned Louie was one of those people who couldn’t flash the Vulcan Peace Sign.

Picard sighed. “Put away your phaser, Mr. Worf. You two imbeciles, my ready room. Now! Number One, you have the bridge.”

“Sir, Commander Riker left the bridge with Counselor Troi again,” said Data.

Geordi LaForge nodded. “And judging by their heat signatures, I’d say it had more to do with that whole Imzadi thing than a drink in Ten Forward. Sorry, Worf.”

Mr. Worf looked perturbed. “Commander Riker will feel the wrath of my steel.”

“Like Troi’s feeling the wrath of Riker’s steel right now?” asked Wesley Crusher.

I never liked Wesley before, but maybe I could develop a liking to him. Nah!

“Mr. Data, you have the bridge,” Picard ordered. “And Worf, do you honestly believe anyone is intimidated by a neutered Klingon who wore his hair in a bob for the first few seasons? Give it a rest, old man!”

We followed Picard into his ready room.

“I demand to know what this fiasco is about,” Picard ordered. “Are you Q?”

I shook my head. “Oh no, buddy! We’re straight as arrows. I only strike out from one side of the plate!”

“Yeah, me too!” said Louie.

“No! You morons! I mean are you here from the Q Continuum?”

“We need your holodeck,” I replied.

Picard rubbed his pate. “You avoided my question.”

“I did not,” I refuted. “You asked me to Continuum. So I continuumed. It’s not my fault if you stated your request in Latin.”

“Hey! I know some Pig Latin!” Louie piped in.

“You know what would sound cool?” I asked. “Klingon Pig Latin!”

Louie slapped me a high five. “Score!”

“Why do you want to use my holodeck?” Picard asked.

I explained the whole Halloween strike and my bet with Stanley. For some reason Picard insisted one of us had to be Q. The only Q I saw was his cue ball head.

At last Jean-Luc relented. “You will have one hour to save Halloween and get off my ship! And that’s only because our franchise is sagging without a weekly presence and any exposure is good. Even a fan fic throwaway tale at FDC is better than the sludge Berman and Braga turned out on Enterprise!”

“Don’t sweat it, Professor X,” I replied. “I’ve been slumming it at FDC the last three years.”

“You have one hour!” said Picard.

Louie and I were escorted to the holodeck by Lieutenant Worf, Data, and a couple of red shirts.

“We have arrived,” said a visibly perturbed Worf. “You may enter but be warned the safeguards will be set to off for this simulation. Trust me, it’s good for the plot.”

Data cocked his head. “Actually there are three hundred and seventeen-thousand scenarios for this simulation in which leaving the safeguard on will still preclude a successful adventure.”

“Trust me,” Worf huffed. “I’d much rather leave it set to off.”

“Sounds like it will be dangerous,” I replied.

“One can only hope,” said Worf.

“Maybe we could take the red shirts with us?” Louie asked. “You know in case something goes wrong?”

It sounded like a great idea. If anybody was going to get eaten, torn apart, blown up, become deathly ill, or otherwise maimed, it would be a red shirt.

Worf shook his head. “Absolutely not!”

“Oh come on!” I protested. “Admit it! You replicate these guys! They’re a dime a dozen! What’s an episode without offing a couple of them?”

“Ambush Bug poses a valid point,” said Data. “The crew members who wear red uniforms are considered easily replaceable, unlike those of us in the main cast who wear the blue and gold uniforms. Remember how awkward it was when Dr. Crusher left for one year and we tried to replace her with Dr. Pulaski? I believe we can spare a red shirt since they are so easily replaceable. Much like boy bands and Lindsay Lohan’s boyfriends.”

“I see,” said Worf. “You may take one red shirt.”

Inexplicably the red shirts fought over who would be led like a lamb to the slaughter.

Data inputted our program parameters on the keypad by the door and it whooshed open. Louie and I stepped inside and looked around. It reminded me of being trapped on the inside of a Rubik’s Cube.

Suddenly the horizontal and vertical control lines shimmered from view and Louie and I were in the middle of a busy street. The Universal Monsters paced the sidewalk in front of the Universal Studios corporate offices. I grabbed Louie by the arm and drug him through the heavy traffic.

We made it through without much damage if you don’t count the cabbie who ran over Louie’s foot. We approached the monsters.

“Who is in charge here?” I asked.

“Zat vould be me,” Count Dracula replied in his thick Transylvanian accent.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked. “You’ll ruin Halloween for boys and girls everywhere.”

“Unless ze powers zat be agree to our demands, then yes,” Count Dracula answered. “Zat is why it is called a labor strike!”

“He does have a point,” said Louie. “It wouldn’t be much of a strike otherwise.”

“I demand to speak to the other monsters!” I shouted. “Frankenstein! Do you really want to deprive little kids of a complete Halloween experience?”

“Rrrrr....” Frankenstein moaned.

The Wolfman’s and the Mummy’s oratory skillswere every bit as polished as Frankenstein’s. No wonder Count Dracula was their spokesperson! He was the only one with a vocabulary of more than one word!

“Do you not know who I am?” I asked.

Count Dracula shook his head.

“I am Ambush Bug! The living embodiment of the Halloween spirit! The Patron Saint of All Hallow’s Eve! I demand that you cease and desist this petty strike at once!”

“Ve can’t do that!” Count Dracula shot back. “Ve have families to take care of. My young daughter turns thirteen-hundred years old this year and needs braces. Do you have any idea how cruel vampires can be at that age? Ze Volfman’s vife is pregnant. How can they afford to bring a litter into ze world on vat ve are paid? Poor Frankenstein still has that damn bolt through his neck and has developed problems related to his body parts coming from multiple corpses! And ze poor Mummy is going to need skin regeneration. Ze Oil of Olay will no longer cut it! But vere is Universal ven we need them? Too busy churning out hits like “Bring It On: All or Nothing” and “You, Me, and Dupree!” Kicked to the curb like antiques is vat ve are! Ven vas the last time the zey made a real flick for either of us? ”

I thought hard. “Well there was Vampire In Brooklyn!”

“Hah!” the Count laughed. “Try again!”

“Once Bitten?” Louie asked.

I forgot about that one myself.

“I’m dealing with Dumb and Dumber,” Count Dracula answered. “No, there have been no real roles for me! The same goes for my friends! Hollywood no longer takes us seriously!”

“Dracula!” I shot back. “You know, Bram Stoker’s Dracula?”

Count Dracula winced. “Such cruel words a mortal has never spoken! Two words, my friend. Meat and Loaf. Believe me. There are some things I voudn’t do for love!”

“And don’t forget that Keanu Reeves was in it too,” Louie reminded us. “He should have quit after Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure! No matter what I see him in, I think Ted. Ted walks in the clouds. Ted saves a bus full of children. Ted plays computer geek/savior. Give me Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure any day.”

“Frank likes Bogus Journey better,” Count Dracula replies. “You want to see the big guy laugh, show him Death losing at Battleship! Gets him every time.”

“That’s a great scene!” I said. I turned to Frank and we shared an air guitar solo. “Party Time! Excellent!”

“RRR!!!” Frankenstein roared and mimicked my air guitar. He even managed a Wyld Stallyns salute!

“Wyld Stallyns!” Louie cried.

Having found some common ground, I appealed to the monsters’ sense of decency one more time. “Please reconsider this strike, gentlemen!”

“Ve cannot!” Count Dracula replied. “It is a matter of principle now! If King Kong can be remade on a big screen budget then so should our movies!”

“Your final answer?” I asked.

Count Dracula nodded. “Our final answer. Sorry, Ambush Bug!”

I was nearly dejected when inspiration struck. “Come on, Louie! I have an idea! You monsters will forgive me I hope!”

We left the monsters to their picket line.

“So what’s up?” Louie asked.

“Scabs,” I replied.

“Sounds like a personal problem,” said Louie.

I smacked him in the back of his balding head. “Not that kind of scab, Doofus! Replacement workers!”

“But who could possibly replace the Universal Monsters?” Louie asked.

“Thanks to your cousin and his Cosmic Being License, I have some folks in mind!” I replied.

A few hours later we were discussing the terms with our replacement laborers.

“Are you sure you can handle it?” I asked. “Crossing the picket lines can be very dangerous!”

“Absolutely!” Frankenberry replied. “This is such a sweet opportunity! Moving up into the big leagues!”

Count Chocula laughed heartily. “I concur, Frank! Who would have dreamed that we’d appear in an FDC Halloween special?”

The monsters sure had a problem with perception if they thought FDC was the big time! But whatever worked for them and Halloween was ok by me. “The real fun will begin when you try to cross the picket lines into Universal Studios,” I said. “The real monsters may get a little upset.”

“I’ll scare that right out of them,” said Boo Berry.

“That’s why I’ve called two of your number out of retirement,” I continued. “Gentlemen, you remember your former comrades, Fruit Brute and Yummy Mummy?”

Frankenberry rushed to his friends and crushed Yummy Mummy in a big bear hug. “Oh Yummy! I haven’t seen you in years!”

Yummy Mummy tried in vain to break Frankenberry’s iron grip. “Let go of me, you overgrown pink sissy! Shouldn’t you be running for the cure or something?”

Frankenberry released his old pal. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Dude, you turn milk pink. Think about it,” Yummy Mummy replied.

“Are you saying....” asked a suddenly perturbed Frankenberry.

“No dude,” said Yummy Mummy. “I’m just saying. That’s all.”

“The last time anyone made that kind of inference about me, I threw him out the front door of the Blue Oyster Bar!” said Frankenberry.

Count Chocula and Boo Berry were happy to catch up with Fruit Brute. He was still somewhat of a wild man. Which was a good thing, since he’d have to contend with the Wolfman when it all hit the fan.

“Gentlemen, I suggest we get started,” I said.

We marched over to Universal Studios - Me, Louie, and our merry band of replacement monsters. I hoped I was doing the right thing. I considered calling the Count and his pals, but dang getting that old codger to leave Sesame Street would take some doing! He had a sweetheart deal. Besides could Big Bird and Ernie take on Frankenstein and the Mummy even with Super Grover? As if.

As I feared things didn’t go well once we arrived. Count Dracula was quick to figure out what was happening.

“You have brought scabs to take our place?” he asked.

“Don’t think of them as scabs,” I replied in my most convincing tone. “Think of them as temporary workers who’ll stand in for you and assure production remains uninterrupted while you’re otherwise engaged with union activities.”

“Someone has read ze Management handbook! This is unacceptable,” the Count replied. “It means war!”

Things went downhill quickly from there. Frankenberry bitch-slapped Frankenstein and it was on. Old Flathead wasted little time retaliating. He uprooted a light pole and swung it into Frankenberry’s gut. He screamed like Ross the Intern.

The blow sent Frankenberry reeling but he rebounded quickly. “I’ll teach you to strike me, you uncivilized brute! I learned this move while dancing off-Broadway in a little cabaret!”

He high-stepped like a Radio City Rockette and kicked Frankenstein under the chin.

Fruit Brute and the Wolfman locked in a tense, ferocious standoff. They snarled and gnashed at one another while pressing for an advantage. At last the Wolfman found an opening and slipped in behind the cancelled General Mills mascot.

Rather than howling in pain Fruit Brute looked shocked. “Whoa! What is it you’re poking me with back there? Hey! Cut that out! Someone needs to tell your owner that he’s responsible for neutering his werewolf! Dude! Cut it out!”

The Wolfman growled and tried to force himself on the poor Fruit Brute.

“Hey buddy! Let me introduce you to my buddy, Frankenberry. He’ll turn your milk pink for ya!” said Fruit Brute.

Yummy Mummy was doing a little better with his foe although both mummies were nearly unwound. At least I think he was doing better. It was kinda like watching Plastic Man and Elongated Man battle for a Stretch Armstrong.

Meanwhile the two Counts transformed into bats and chased one another around the street. I assumed the one bombing the street with miniature chocolate marshmallows was Count Chocula and then both made marshmallows.

Louie scooped them up and popped one in his mouth. He spit it out just as quickly. “Guano!” he cried.

With things getting quickly out of hand, I realized that I messed up terribly. I thought of the deal I made with Stanley. If only I had that kind of power available to me at that moment. Then someone tapped me on the shoulder.

It was Boo Berry. Thank goodness General Mills had the foresight to release a generic ghost character! No wonder the old man was promoted to General!

“Get in there and help your fellow monsters,” I ordered.

Boo Berry shook his head. “That’s where it gets complicated, see. I can’t touch anyone and let’s face it, I’m not really that scary. What you need is one of those clever plot loopholes David writes into every one of these specials. You know the kind of deux ex machina that makes fanboys slap their foreheads with their sweaty palms so hard they look like a bruised Hindu?

“Yes! You’re right!” I said. “Why didn’t I think of it before?”

I stuck my hand into my pocket and retrieved a certain shiny coin and rubbed it three times. “Come on, Jonni! Where are you?”

Jonni FDC appeared before us in a puff of smoke. As usual she had that frazzled look that suggested I summoned her once more in the heat of passion. “What the hell do you want this time, Bug?”

“I’ve made a mess of things and there’s was this bet with Stanley that I could save Halloween. And then I ended up on the....”

“Starship Enterprise?” Jonni asked.

“Yeah,” I replied. “How did you know?”

The battle raged on behind us.

A man appeared out of thin air and put his arm around Jonni. “Come on, my sweet! Why are you wasting time with these losers?”

“Ambush Bug does this to me every year,” Jonni explained. “It’s his way of making sure my copyright doesn’t expire from lack of use. Don’t take it personally, Q.”

So this man was Q. He looked mad. Not angry mad but completely bonkers, insane mad. Kinda like Harley Quinn with P.M.S. I liked him!

Q smiled. “I understand those copyright laws well, my love. Without a Star Trek series running right now, I’m forced to exist in reruns and poorly-written novels.”

Jonni hugged her new man-friend. “I’m sorry, baby. Let Jonni make it all better.”

I cleared my throat. “Yes, Jonni. Make it all better!”

“What do you want her to do?” Q asked.

“Fix this mess,” I replied.

Q looked perturbed. “Perhaps we should just reboot this whole story? We could always drop them all into an issue of Lab Rats!”

“No!” I protested. “Anything but that! Please don’t put my fate into the hands of John Byrne! You saw what a mess he made of Big Blue! Old Spitcurl has never been the same! And don’t even get me started about the Doom Patrol! At least Infinite Crisis swept that mess under the rug!”

Q was dangerous. I had to get him off the idea of total annihilation of my Halloween Special. Perhaps an appeal to his vanity? It always worked for Jean-Luc. “This situation’s totally hopeless! Only a true genius could save Halloween and put Stanley in his place!”

“Stanley?” Q asked.

Jonni whispered in his ear.

Q rolled in the floor laughing. “The Phantom Stranger’s name is Stanley? That’s too rich! Wait until I tell the guys at the lodge meeting!”

My plan didn’t work out quite the way I planned. The subtlety went over Q’s head. Maybe a second attempt would yield better results. “Only a true GENIUS could save Halloween and put Stanley in...”     

Q stopped laughing. “I heard you the first time, dumb-dumb. I’m going to help you for two reasons. One- I want to get back to devouring this sweet morsel you call Jonni. I nearly had her out of her logo when you so rudely interrupted. And two, I owe Stanley one for putting itching powder in my judge’s robes.”

“So what are you going to do?” I asked.

“Turn around,” Q ordered.

Wow! Did he ever fix things! I knew everything would be ok once SHE arrived.

“I am Seven of Nine of the USS Starship Voyager,” she said. “I will save the day. It’s what I do.”

Hubba! Hubba! Hubba! Did she ever save MY day! Even the monsters stopped fighting.  Well, all except one.

“What does she have that I don’t?” Frankenberry demanded.

Count Chocula took Seven of Nine by the hand. “She’s Jeri Ryan! You nitwit! She doesn’t have bolts in her neck.”

“And she doesn’t turn milk pink,” Fruit Brute exclaimed.

“Technically that first statement is not true,” Seven replied. “I am Borg. The assimilation process left behind...”

“Save it sister,” Louie said. “As long as you wear that catsuit so tight I can see the pores of your skin, I don’t care what assimilation left behind.”

“Perhaps the lady needs an oil change?” Count Dracula asked.

Both the Wolfman and Mummy drooled on her.

I pushed my way through the testosterone and assorted mating calls. “What can you do to get us out of this jam, Seven?”

Seven ignored me. “Computer, reconfigure holodeck to simulate my Astrometrics lab on Voyager.”

At her word the simulation disappeared and Voyager’s Astrometric lab warped into view on the holodeck. The red shirt disappeared as well.

“The red shirt wasn’t part of the simulation,” I said.

Seven nodded. “I am aware of that. However, he served no useful function in this plot and everyone was distracted by waiting to see how he died. Now onto the problem at hand. My vast experience with discovering new pseudo-science that catapults us one step closer to the Alpha Quadrant every week uniquely qualifies me to save this pathetic attempt at a Halloween Special.”

“But you’re no longer in the Star Trek universe,” I argued. “The laws of physics may work differently here.”

Seven arched her eyebrow at me. “I am Seven of Nine. If not for me Han Solo would never have shot Darth Vader off Luke’s tail. You surely didn’t believe the Wookie was that good of a mechanic? Who do you think designed the communication array that allowed that poor, stranded E.T. creature to call across the universe using only old Ma Bell technology? George Washington crossing the Delaware? Borg technology!  And who believes Christopher Lloyd could build a time machine out of a DeLorean on his own? Or consider your own Superman. Without my intervention he would have grown up on the planet Rupert!”

“If you’re so smart then explain 42!” I said smugly.

Seven laughed. “The answer to the Ultimate Question!”      

“Aha! Wrong!” I shouted. “You didn’t phrase your answer in the form of a question!”

Seven looked angry. “Do not provoke me! I will squash you like a ... Bug!”

“Yes, ma’am,” I gulped. For some reason, I found her threatening commands strangely intoxicating. Perhaps it was the skintight outfit? I digress.

“I require certain items in order to set everything right,” Seven demanded.

Louie bowed at her feet. “Yes, mistress Seven. Anything you desire. I am your loyal slave. I am not worthy to kiss your boots.”

I kicked Louie lightly. “Get up, man! This is a family comic!”

Seven looked curious. “A family comic? What kind of family would read FDC? I would think parents would steer their children clear of such pitfalls as hallucinogens, Nick Lachey, and FauxDC.”

I reminded Seven that someone requested David to write a third Halloween Special.

“I see,” she huffed. “Damn that Dale Glaser! There’s no accounting for some people’s tastes.”

“You gotta excuse our fan,” Louie explained. “He’s been away on a sabbatical for awhile and doesn’t remember the quality writing that used to adorn this site.”

“Quality?” Seven asked. She pulled up the FDC site and linked to the Angel and the Ape Special.  “Is this dreadful tale even in continuity?”

I scanned the story carefully. “It takes place in Appollyon City, so I assume it is in continuity. I don’t know. Look, I never claimed David was a genius! Check out the other writers though. They really ARE good.I’ll let you in on a closely-guarded FDC trade secret. David writes titles here as therapy for his mental condition. Seriously, writing this bad can only come from a twisted mind.”

Seven considered my explanation carefully. “I concur. I read the first two Halloween Specials. I understand what you mean.”

“Now can we get on to saving this woeful tale?” I asked.

Seven nodded. “I will need a few minutes to engineer a short, random series of tachyon bursts focused on the Enterprise’s holodeck imaging emitters. While I am doing this I will need one of you to couple the fiction-generators with the hologrid substructure via a subspace frequency aligned with mnemonic ionizer. Perhaps you, Mr. Bug? Your friend will be responsible for stabilizing a focused containment shield around the dilithium nodes.”

Louie wrinkled his face. “What did she say?”

“She said something about the doo-hickey and the thing-amajiggy connecting to Captain America’s shield,” I replied.

“Oh okay,” Louie nodded.

 I was glad one of us knew what was going on. Too bad it wasn’t me or Louie. There’s nothing more intimidating than a hot chick in a skin-tight leotard with brains. I couldn’t help but wonder if she cooked and cleaned too.

“Hey Bug?” Louie yelled. “When do we get to the love-slave part?”

I was wondering that myself. Oh and saving Halloween, yeah. That too. “I don’t know. Just try to remember what it is you’re supposed to do!”

“And what is that again?” Louie asked.

“You know,” I replied. “Ankle bone’s connected to the shin bone. Shin bone’s connected to the knee bone. Knee bone’s connected to the thigh bone. That kind of stuff.”

“Oh yeah!” Louie replied. “Sorry.”

“On my mark,” said Seven. “Now!”

I wasn’t sure what to do so I started pushing buttons. Any button in sight, as a matter of fact. Our refinement of the Enterprise’s systems didn’t escape the notice of the security detail. Within moments, the holodeck doors swooshed open and Lt Worf and his cronies came after us.

“You are not authorized to.... Who is this?” Worf asked.

“I am Seven of Nine,” Seven replied. “Of the USS Starship Voyager.”

“From where I’m standing you’re a ten,” Worf replied.

Just then Deanna Troi walked in. “So that’s how it is, huh? I have one fling with Will and you’re in here having a ball with... Hello there!”

Counselor Troi regarded the creature before her with marked admiration. “And who are you?”

“I am Seven of Nine. I am here on behalf of these idiots who are trying to save Halloween,” Seven explained.

“Save Halloween?” Troi asked. “That’s easy.”

My ears perked up. I fell on my knees before her.“Tell me O large, magnificent-bosomed one! How can I save Halloween this year?”

“Costumes!” Deanna proclaimed.

I rolled my eyes. For a brief moment I thought she was on to something. “Costumes? That’s so last year’s Halloween Special!”

“That depends,” Counselor Troi replied. She eyed Seven of Nine playfully. “Have you ever attended a Betazoid wedding ceremony?”

Seven cocked her head. “Someone is getting married?”

Deanna grabbed Seven by the hand. “Sister, with a body like that we’ll FIND somebody!”

It was then that I realized Stanley was behind me. I was unsure how long he’d been there or what he saw. “Stanley? Heh, yeah. I was just....”

“I saw what you were doing,” Stanley replied. He watched Deanna and Seven leave the holodeck dressing for the Betazoid wedding ceremony as they walked. “Damn fine job of saving Halloween, my boy!”

Stanley was obviously happy with my results. “Uh, Stanley.”

“Yes, Bug?”

“I win then?”

Stanley nodded. “If we’re invited to the ceremony, yes. May I ask you something?”

“Sure,” I replied. It wasn’t often Stanley asked me anything. “I thought this Special had another ending prepared. How did it get to Troi and Seven of Nine headed off into lesbian bliss?”

“After all, it is fan fic,” I replied. “Some folks love those erotic crossovers where two people of the same sex who would never be together in a million years suddenly develop a keen longing for one another, despite the character assassination involved. I thought it may be good for ratings.”

“Yeah, it’s good,” said Stanley.

That’s when I noticed it. “Uh, Stanley? Maybe you should wrap your cape around you all mysterious-like for awhile.”

“How come?” Stanley asked.

“Let’s just say it looks like your Phantom Stranger looks to walk among us,” I replied.

Stanley sighed. “Happy Halloween, Ambush Bug!”

“Happy Halloween, Stanley!”

As an extra-special FDC Halloween Bonus, click here for the The Ambush Bug Halloween Not-So Special #3 Alternate Cover Edition!!!