Re: Apocalypse Next?
Posted by:
Mortal Wombat (---.cmbg.cable.ntl.com)
Date: November 07, 2003 08:02AM
A challenge, huh? Be warned, the following is extremely silly and has no literary merit whatsoever...
'Apocalypse Next and the New World Order'
By Mortal Wombat
In his heart of hearts, Apocalypse Next had to admit that he had never really wanted to be a world-class adventurer. From his very early youth, the world of archaeology had called to him. Not for Apocalypse Next, however, was the type of archaeology in which you held off the man-eating apes of the Yith Yang Valley armed with only a candelabra, nor indeed the type of archaeology in which you routinely discovered artefacts of unspeakable power, the possession of which caused men in unpleasant black uniforms to order other men in unpleasant black uniforms to shoot at you. The soul of Apocalypse Next yearned for the type of archaeology in which you spent three days lovingly brushing the dirt off a unique fragment of Neolithic pottery.
Given his current circumstances, these facts were unfortunate.
'Ze keeler apes are getting hungry, Meester Next,' called the obese Nazi General as he lounged in the back seat of his Mercedes and sipped a dry martini. On his lap his poodle, Benito, gazed at Apocalypse through hate- filled, rheumy eyes and bared his decaying teeth in an evil snarl.
Apocalypse Next ducked back into cover as a round or two of well-aimed sniper fire pinged into the rock-face above the cramped cave in which he had taken refuge.
'You know what we want, Meester Next,' the General called up to him mockingly. 'Surrender now! Ozzerwise we shall simply wait until ze morning and take ze artefact from your lifeless body.'
'I'd like to see you get across the lava, General Otto!' Apocalypse gritted back. He was getting a headache. Somewhere back at the institute he had three drawers of form 27 Samian pottery which badly needed cataloguing.
'Do not under-estimate ze ingenuity of ze servants of ze master-race!'
Apocalypse paid him scant attention. He ducked another sniper round and with a single well-aimed blow of his candelabra sent yet another of the seething simian mob that besieged their hiding place into the fiery pit below.
As the beast plummeted to its death with a petulant snarl, Lola, the blonde librarian, smiled wanly at him through her tears, causing Apocalypse to heartily wish he'd never clapped eyes on the wretched woman. Her make-up, he noticed, was immaculate despite the fact that they were trapped and facing certain death. Unfortunately her womanly charms stirred little other than irritation in his breast. Rather he thought fondly of Miss Thompson, the chief librarian back at the institute. She was a forbidding woman who weighed eighteen stone, never wore make-up and had a bosom you could have bounced rocks off. Now there was a woman you needed at your side when you were dealing with man-eating apes. He would have traded six Lolas, a Deirdre and possible a Veronica to have been able to see her craggy face again.
'I don't suppose you have a bottle of aspirin?' he asked Lola plaintively as he brained another of the gibbering killer apes. It was a forlorn hope. Her sheer satin dress concealed only the tiny pearl-handled revolver she had used to kidnap him from his laboratory, and he knew from bitter experience that all she had in her tiny clutch purse were the handcuffs she'd used to imprison him with in Samarkand, the Micky Finn she'd drugged him with in Venice and the blackjack she'd used to knock him out on the last zeppelin out of Gstaad.
'Oh Doctor Neeeext!' General Otto called from below. 'Vould you like to see ze latest toy of the Master Race? Ve call it… ze sub-machine gun!'
'Oh Apocalypse! There are more killer apes! And I'm out of bullets! Whatever shall we do?'
Apocalypse gritted his teeth, and glared at the object that had dragged him away from three years of painstaking translation work on a nearly complete tablet of Minoan Linear B. Gazing dimly and quizzically back at him from its niche on at the back of the cave sat the plump and unobjectionable looking statuette that so many people were, apparently, willing to kill and die for. There it stood, as dark as men's souls, with the dull bloom of decay and with a core of solid platinum. It was… the Maltese Dodo!
Duh duh dahhhhh! To be continued???