Chapter 11

It was a dark and stormy night. I mean it this time - it really was. Unpleasant, wet, muddy, murky - a real, down in the trenches, freeze your toes off, WWII movie type of night. In a weird situation that had nothing at all to do with Tony Dewhurst, Sir Percy Blakeney was fantastically happy. It was the weather. He loved it. Sometimes he wished that WWII would come a hundred and fifty years early so he could make a movie about it. Yes, he loved the weather THAT much. No one really knows why weather like this made him so happy, but perhaps that is a good thing.

It was generally a good thing for all concerned if Blakeney was happy, because you realy didn't want to see him mad.

Unfortunately, he was about to get very mad, and there wasn't anything anyone could do about it.

It was his suit. He had to put it on before he could go save the day.

It was his hero suit.

He hated it.

It was a leotard.

Sir Andrew Ffoulkes (holding up leotard) "Okay. Now, come on Blakeney. We'll all turn around and let you change, and we promise that during the adventure we'll look at you as little as possible."

Sir Percy Blakeney "No. I don't wanna."

Sir Andrew Ffoulkes "Now now, you're being childish again! It really isn't all that bad. . . "

Sir Percy Blakeney "Well, you don't have to wear one."

Sir Andrew Ffoulkes "That's right, I don't. YOU'RE the hero, YOU get to wear it!

Sir Percy Blakeney "But, I don't wanna!"

Sir Andrew Ffoulkes "Well, too bad!"

(continuing sounds of extremely childish argument)

Sir Percy Blakeney "Wait wait!" (tapping on computer screen) "Could you explain about this please?"

Author "Really? Are you sure?"

Sir Percy Blakeney "Yes please."

Author "Okay, well. . . you asked for it."

(Author's Explanatory Note) It is a well known fact that all superheros must have different superhero stuff. Frodo has The One Ring, Luke Skywalker has a lightsaber, Spiderman has webby thingies, Wolverine has really sharp fingernails (as it were), Batman has batty whatevers, and Macgyver has a Swiss Army knife and a funny hairdo. Blakeney, of course, had little supernotes that were not bound by the space-time continuum and could therefore teleport anywhere in the world and insult the villain of his choice. But, the one thing every superhero must have is a really form-fitting superhero costume. (You know, so they can walk around in clothes that are all normal and everything, but be able at random times to rip them open and - this is the important part - not be arrested for streaking.) The problem that Blakeney had was that all the materials available in the late eighteenth-century just weren't any good as form-fitting superhero costumes. Linen wrinkled, cotton shrank in the wash, wool itched (a lot!), leather chafed, satin tore, silk was. . . somehow just not the right thing for a macho guy to use as a clingy outfit. . . and chain mail was soooooo last century. So, in the end there was nothing for it. Sir Percy had to invent Spandex. The problem with Spandex was that it. . . well. . . . . . um. . . . . . you see. . . . . . it kind of. . . . . . Uh, Blakeney? Are you sure you want me to tell them this?)

Sir Percy Blakeney "Go ahead and say it."

Author "You're sure?"

Sir Percy Blakeney (puts hands over eyes) "Just get it over with"

Author (shrugging) "Okay."

(Continuing Author's Note) The real problem with Spandex was that it looked stupid. I mean, ripped muscles and all that aside, it was just. . . not cool. The fact that every superhero who came after Blakeney also wears Spandex does not really help, because Blakeney suspects that they are all doing it just to make him feel better, and. . .)

Sir Percy Blakeney "Come on. Just tell them what's wrong with it."

Author (sighs) "All right, fine."

(Blakeney thought Spandex was a real pain. You couldn't wash it for one thing - the color always ran and stained his socks - there wasn't anything else in the closet that went with it, and it was a terror to accessorize, but mostly, the biggest problem was that it made him feel fat.)

Sir Percy Blakeney "Hey!"

Author "Well, you told me to say it!"

Sir Percy Blakeney "But now you're getting personal!"

Author (rolls eyes) "There are worse personal things I could have said, you know. Several of them, if you will recall. . ."

Sir Percy Blakeney "True."(shrugging) "Okay, fat is fine. Carry on." (waves eyeglass dashingly)

(Anyway, it was because he didn't want the whole world to know about the Spandex thing that Blakeney always had to carry out all his rescues at night - but he did concede that this helped with the whole "concealing your identity" thing. Blakeney never managed to get a patent on Spandex, but luckily a descendant of his re-invented it for us to use and hate today.(See Note 5) (End of Author's Explanitory Note)

(Note 5) Sir Percy's descendant also went on to invent men's briefs (to be worn outside the Spandex, of course), to use his eyeglasses as the sum total of his disguise, and bring capes and spit curls back into fashion. (Yesss! "Superman" reference! Score!)

So, after Blakeney got into his Spandex suit, a lot of adventurous stuff happened, but I'm afraid I can't tell you about it because the members of the League of Cardboard Cutouts got in everbody's way, and you couldn't see a thing for about twenty minutes.

After all the adventurous stuff was over, and all of the League was trapped in the back room of the bar, with an angry mob outside, and Chauvelin and Carrier waiting around somewhere, eager to carry out dastardly deeds of derring do, the members of the League of Cardboard Cutouts got out of the way.

The only good part was that in the middle of all this, the League had managed to save Yvonne and her father, even though the old man wasn't looking so good at the moment.

Sir Andrew Ffoulkes "Um. . . Blakeney? The stupid old guy is dead. Was that supposed to happen?"

Sir Percy Blakeney "Oops."

Sir Andrew Ffoulkes "Well, that's two plans down the tubes."

The League of C.C. "Hoo-ray"

Sir Percy Blakeney "Wait, wait. Let me think."

(sound of Jeopardy theme)

Sir Andrew Ffoulkes "So. . . how are we going to get out of this one?"

Sir Percy Blakeney (affects fake New York accent) "Shalom! All you goyim get off your tucheses and start shlepping your own weight around here!"

Sir Andrew Ffoulkes "Oh no. . . Blakeney, you're NOT going to try to be a Jew again?"

Random crowd of peasants "Oww! Racisim! Swim Away!"

Sir Andrew Ffoulkes "Blakeney, please. . ."

Sir Percy Blakeney "Listen to the meshuggina gentile get all ferblunjit!"

Sir Andrew Ffoulkes "Gah! Blakeney, I'm telling you! No one is going to believe you're a Jew if you talk like that!!!!"

Sir Percy Blakeney "Calm down, Andrew! You're shvitzing. Wanna hankie?"

Sir Andrew Ffoulkes (puts head in hands) "Heaven grant me patience. . . "

Sir Percy Blakeney (picks up bagel and looks through it) "Lox and cream cheese anyone?"

Sir Andrew Ffoulkes "Oy vay."

Sir Andrew Ffoulkes turned very red in the face.

Sir Andrew Ffoulkes "Blar! Now you've got ME talking this. . . this. . . (tries to hold it back, but can't). . . this mishegoss. . . Arg!

Sir Percy Blakeney "Tip-top lingo for expressing yourself, ain't it?

Sir Andrew Ffoulkes "Well. . . . . . . . . um. . . . . . . . . . . I suppose so. . . . . . . . . . . yes. . . . . . . . . . . ." (looks abashed)

Sir Percy Blakeney "Welcome to the mishpocha."

Author "Ahem! . . . . . Are you two finished?"

Sir Percy Blakeney "Sure. You're the one writing this, anyway."

Sir Andrew Ffoulkes "Yeah, we can stop whenever you want us to."

Author "Heh. That's what everyone thinks."

Lord Antony Dewhurst "Can we get on with my story now?"

Author "Yeah. . . that would be best. . ."

Sir Andrew Ffoulkes "So what are we going to do?"

Sir Percy Blakeney "Any of you bums have an idea?"

The League of C.C. looks expectantly at Lord Stowmarries.

Lord Stowmarries "Um, don't look at me. I'm just the token League Member. I don't do anything." (thinks hard) "Well, I suppose I could carry Yvonne's purse. . ."

Author "All right, that's it!!!! I've had it with this stupid continuity contract!"

(sound of paper being viciously shredded)

Crowd of peasants "Yay! Revolution! Attack!!!!!!"

(sound of random attacking, punching, screaming and bleeding)

Sir Percy Blakeney "Well, that's torn it."

Sir Andrew Ffoulkes "Yep."

Sir Percy Blakeney "I guess that means we're going to have to fight back."

Lord Antony Dewhurst "You mean we finally get to kick ass?"

Sir Percy Blakeney "Well, not you. . . you have to carry the stupid old dead guy and I have to carry your wife."

Lord Antony Dewhurst "Meh."

Yvonne (shaking head) "Uh-uh. No you don't! (brandishes whip) I'm gooooood at the peasant squishing thing!" (cracks whip)

Crowd of Peasants "Yipe! Emasculation! Swim Away!"

(sound of very large explosion)

Marguerite Blakeney (wearing a dress with big red buttons) "Hey! Percy, baby! Look at this! I just pushed one of the big red buttons on this dress you gave me for our anniversary and it not only teleported me here it also dug a tunnel under the English channel and isn't that cool 'cause then we can get back to England in like an hour and did I just blow up that random crowd of peasants too? Oops! I'm sorry peasants - "

Yvonne (raises eyebrows) "Is this allowed?"

Lord Antony Dewhurst (sighs) "Yeah. The continuity contract got torn up."

Yvonne "Well, I don't like it." (cracks whip again)

Marguerite Blakeney (plants fists on hips) "Get over it, doll face. I'M the heroine in this outfit!"

Yvonne "Yeah, if I was in that outfit, I'D be the heroine too!"

Marguerite Blakeney (narrowing eyes dangerously) "Do you want to make something of it?"

Yvonne raised her eyebrows dangerously. . .

Lord Antony Dewhurst (intervening and pointing at whip) "You know, Yvonne, that isn't going to work well in England."

Yvonne "What do you mean?"

Lord Antony Dewhurst "We don't do things like that over there."

Yvonne "You mean no more peasant squishing thing?"

Lord Antony Dewhurst "Yep."

Yvonne "But. . . but. . . I'm good at it!"

Lord Antony Dewhurst "Sorry babe, that's the way it goes."

Yvonne "Well, I have to have something to squish."

Lord Antony Dewhurst "Hm. We can talk about that later."

Yvonne "Okay."

(sound of totally random kissing scene)

Sir Percy Blakeney (looks at Marguerite) "By the way m'deah," (points at dress with big red buttons) "Great nick of time rescue thing. . . dress. . . whatever."

Marguerite Blakeney "Thanks, Percy baby. I'm a super modeler." (taps on computer screen) "Isn't that right?"

Author (blushing) "Erm. . . supermodel. . ."

Marguerite Blakeney "Whatever."

Sir Percy Blakeney "Okay everyone. Time to go."

The League of C.C. "Hoo-ray."

Sir Percy Blakeney "Right!!" (hoists whole French coast onto shoulders) "Tally HO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

So, everybody got whooshed back to England really fast, the stupid old dead guy got buried, Tony and Yvonne got to discuss many different types of squishing, the League got to insult more villains, Blakeney got to wear more Spandex, Marguerite got to model more things with big red buttons (and also invent mud wrestling) and everyone lived happily ever after.

The end.

Marguerite Blakeney "Wow. . . That story ended quick."

Sir Percy Blakeney "Yeah, well, continuity contract, you know. . ."

Marguerite Blakeney "What? I thought it got torn up."

Sir Percy Blakeney "Nope. Continuity contracts are like black holes - you can't escape the Even Hour Zone.

Author (whispering) "Event Horizon"

Sir Percy Blakeney "Whatever."

Marguerite Blakeney "Soooooo. Percy, baby. You want to make out now?"

Sir Percy Blakeney "Nah. How about I just stare at you instead?"

Marguerite Blakeney (pouting) "You never want to make out."

Sir Percy Blakeney "This is the eighteenth-century, m'deah. We can only make out when no one is watching."

Marguerite Blakeney "Oh. Okay."

Marguerite walks over to the door and slams it in the Author's face.

(screen fades to black)

The End.

Random crowd of peasants "Hey! Author! You forgot us!"

Author "Oops, sorry. . ."

(Author composes one last line for a Random Crowd of peasants)

Random crowd of peasants "Wow! Thanks! Swim Away!"

Author "Oh, I will. . ."

(sound of Author swimming away)

The End. (and it really is the end this time)