Episode 01x51 - Impostor

Icepunk:

“How convenient,” Malex says sarcastically, “that you are suddenly blessed with telepathic powers, just in time to stop the Dumbbutts from overthrowing the city government!”

“Malex, stop being irrational. Thubthub, don’t eat that; you know exactly where it’s been.” I pace around the office, fingers at my temples, trying to contact the authorities and alert them of the impending danger. “Crap, it’s not working. They must not have any telepathically-gifted protectors of the peace!”

“Shut up!” Malex yells, massaging his temples with his fingers. “You do NOT have telepathic powers, you brainless, noodle-like waste of human skin!”

“I’ll prove it, you fat goat turd!” I retort. “Think of a number between eighty-three and five trillion.”

“Fine. What number am I thinking of?”

“Ninety-two thousand and five.”

Malex’s jaw drops. “How did you- how could you- what did you-”

I roll my eyes. “I’ve been trying to tell you: I have telepathic abilities! We can use them to save the city!”

“My head hurts and I want to kill you.”

Malex:

“I can’t handle this right now,” I said, stunned at Icepunk’s display. He had surely gotten mind-bendingly lucky, but it was still difficult to come to terms with.

I turned to find Zilly crouched in a corner, weeping. “So messy... So messy...” he softly mumbled to himself.

“Come on,” I said to him, “you can’t be that dysfunctional.”

“Messifig! Chaotico! Blahoo! Fizzy!” Zilly started screaming.

I looked at Echofly helplessly. “Sorry,” she said. “My healing powers don’t seem to work on severe rifts of psychological continuity.”

“So, do you believe me?” Icepunk asked me.

“No, I don’t think I do,” I said. “The mere fact that you had to ask proves it.”

“I was hoping that the voice of your life-long friend would change your mind,” Icepunk said sulkingly.

“Not really,” I said matter-of-factly.

“I’m gonna go save the city government!” Icepunk said determinedly.

“How?” I asked.

“I’m not telling!” Icepunk practically spat.

Echofly looked at me with a slightly worried look. “That sounds bad.”

“Bad?” I countered. “It sounds disastrous.”

“I haven’t even left yet and you’re already talking behind my back!” Icepunk whined.

“Screw that,” I said. “I’m coming with you. Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on you.”

“Okay,” Icepunk said. “We’ll keep you posted via telepathy!” Icepunk called out to Echofly as he waltzed out the door.

“If you die,” Linus said to me as I left, “I get to keep the laptop.”

Icepunk:

“I’m hungry,” I declare to Malex as we leave the crappy apartment building. “Let’s get food.”

“But we don’t have any money!” Malex protests. “Besides, I thought we were going to save the city government and stop the Dumbbutts!”

“Yeah,” I say, “but it won’t help if we starve to death. Let’s see if we can beg food from this Taco King.”

Inside the Taco King, we stride up to the cashier and demand, “We would like some free food, please. Specifically, anything that’s not from the garbage.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not allowed to give away food,” the kid says in the high-pitched voice of adolescence.

“I want to speak to your manager, boy!” I tell him, raising my voice just a tad. “This is an outrage!”

“What seems to be the problem?” Boof asks me.

“Boof!” I holler. “What are you doing here? Didn’t I burn this place to the ground not too long ago?”

Boof sighs and crosses his arms. “You haven’t changed a bit, you fascist sapling. I’m the new owner of a chain of Taco Kings. What do you want?”

“FOOD! WE HAVEN’T EATEN IN DAYS!” I yell, jumping up on the counter.

“And you think we’ll just give you food?” Boof asks. “Come on, get down. I have a business to run here.”

“I’VE GOT DIRT ON YOU, ‘MUFFIN MAN’!” I scream.

Boof turns pale. “Not so loud! Alright, come down from there and I’ll get you guys some food.”

“Where’s Poo?” Malex asks.

“He’s managing another Taco King upstate,” Boof tells us as he hastily flings some food on a tray. “Eat it quick and get out of here.”

“Blessings upon you all!” I gratefully call out to the staff of the Taco King - all of whom are cowering behind, beside, or under whatever they can find.

Malex:

“Well,” I said as we munched on the barely edible ‘food’ that Taco King served, “what kind of plan do you have to protect the city government? Not to say that I believe that there’s any real danger, but I figure that a hobby that doesn’t involve explosives couldn’t possibly do any harm.”

“After analyzing the situation carefully,” Icepunk said, “I suspect that whatever sinister plot is unfolding around us will probably center around City Hall.”

“You know,” I said, “you make surprisingly little sense, even for a flaming lunatic.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m gonna get back to the office if you’re just gonna stake out City Hall,” I said. “I can’t imagine you doing too much damage as long as you don’t touch anything. Maybe I can think of a way to market our business while you’re gone so we can make some real money.”

“Sure, whatever.”

Icepunk:

“Thanks for the food, Boof.” Malex says. “Icepunk, you’re an idiot. See you back at the office.”

“Fine. I’ll save the planet from Dumbbutts, you apathetic dastard.” I follow Malex out the door, but instead of getting in the car with him, I head toward City Hall to look for suspicious activity.

On my way to City Hall, I reflect on the many meanings of the phrase ‘you can’t fight City Hall’. Much to my consternation, I am unable to determine if this is a literal term, as in, “You cannot fight City Hall because they have lots of guns and will kick your butt,” or if this merely refers to minor altercations such as parking tickets, killing sprees, etc.

Lost in thought, I fail to notice that I’ve reached City Hall until a fat, bald dude wearing a suit hails me.

“Young man!” the old guy says. “Do you know where the new Taco King is? I’ve heard the food is quite excellent.”

“Actually, it kinda sucks,” I say. “On the other hand, if you haven’t eaten for three days, it tastes fine.”

The man looks at me strangely. “I haven’t gone on a three-day fast! What in heaven’s name is the matter with you?”

“Of course,” I say. “My mistake. You’ve obviously been eating every chance you get.”

Indignantly, the man retorts, “You can’t talk to the mayor that way!”

“You’re not the mayor! The mayor is skinny, has a full head of hair, and looks like somebody famous! You’re an impostor!” I tell him angrily. “I know what you’re up to, Dumbbutt!”

“Why, you impudent little worm!” The shocked impostor responds. “I’ll have you arrested!” He storms off.

“I’d better follow him,” I mutter to myself. “No telling what that Dumbbutt rascal will do next.”