#2 - Mystery of Philadelphia / Emeril vs Surge

[whatbombsatmidnite]

Mystery of Philadelphia

or

Emeril vs. Surge

by

SOCOMSoldier017, The Caped Crusader, Jezebelthenun, goodnight, Tony Bologna, evilgnome, hardedge, and WhatBombsAtMidnight.

"Americans were shocked this morning when the news of the passing of beloved Television star Kirk Cameron hit the streets. Cameron, best known for his work on the sitcom Growing Pains, was founded dead at his bungalow in Ocean CityMaryland. Authorities say they have never encountered anything quite like his death. Autopsy showed that Mr. Cameron died of asphixiation caused by swallowing a large glass ashtray. Authorities are labeling the area a crime scene. One detective speculates the ashtray was forced down the victim's throat by an unsuspecting streetwalker that grew offended after Cameron, and his crew from the evangelical television informercial The Way Of The Master, attempted to force their beliefs on him."

That was the news report that Alan Thicke awoke to on the morning of his fourth daughter's confirmation. He was shocked, but moreso, he couldn't get over hte fact that a news reporter had used the word "founded" instead of "found". This enraged Thicke, who was a well known professor of lingual arts, and who carried a deep appreciation for words that began with the letter "f".

Thicke knew what he had to do. He went to his daughter and kissed her on the cheek. "Honey," he said with a stern countenance, "Daddy won't be coming to your confirmation, today. He has to go take care of something. I don't know when I'll be back, but I want you to have this." He handed his precious child a box containing three of his teeth, and a photo of Katherine Hepburn. "Take care, my dear, sweet, very *friendly* personlana." He whimpered, then headed out the door.

Then Oprah died.

As Alan Thicke set off on what he knew to be a great quest, Glen Greet was stuck in rush hour traffic on Fifth Avenue listening about the deaths of Cameron and Oprah. As he picked up his cell phone to plan his 'Oprah's Dead, Let's Party 1987-Style' singles mixer, a burst of light in the sky gave him pause. What followed next was unheard of on the west coast. A large pimgy pine tree crashed through his window, sending the car into a ditch. Suddenly, Greet peered up through the shattered windshield to see seven crows fly by. In a moment of delerium, he began to sing, "Show me that smile again..." He then lost consciousness.

Meanwhile, Alan Thicke had chartered a plane to Los Angeles from San Diego where he had taken a bus to from Dallas. Armed with a Nerf gun and several angry poems, Alan was prepared to engage in battle with Former Spice Girl Geri Ryan over decency in America. However, seeing the error in his ways, Mr Thicke decided to re-evaluate his priorities and head for the S.P.A.M.'s broadcast tower downtown, so he could further his investigation.

In a dark kitchen, not too far away, evil was afoot. But this evil was a silent, subtle, unseen evil. So much so that the identity of this evil elludes all.

Glenn Greet awoke to find himself covered in fluff with the snuggle's teddy bear over him wielding a shot gun and a crack pipe in his mouth.

"Time to make you feel Springtime fresh!" Before the horror could be unleashed, three lumberjacks, out of place in a metropolitan area, grabbed the detergent icon and dragged him off into the traffic. Glenn took a moment to catch his breath and exited his vehicle. The devastation that had be done was undescribeable...for Glenn. Let's just say alot of people were dead, and those that lived would be suing the state. Unconcerned with being on time for work, Glenn sought out someone to share his tale with. But that's when he was approached by a wandering man on crutches who had seen Glenn climb up out of the ditch. "Can you spare a quarter, son?"

"Sure." When Glenn reached into his pocket, he found no loose coin. What he did find, in fact, was no less than...The blood of virgin sheep, packaged nicely in little baggies. Out of reflex, he threw it at the bum. The hobo burst into flames to reveal what he really was a rabid werewolf, whose bloodlust had led him to L.A. He ran off in search for water, howling at the top of his lungs.

What the hell is going on here? Glenn asked himself. When Glenn heard sirens approaching in the distance, he decided to become scarce and walk considerably far away from the ditch.

Alan Thicke's quest was farring much better either, for at that same moment. He was on a yacht in the carribean getting all kinds of drinks and bj's he could handle. It was a balmy day on the carribean as the blue water lapped against the yacht. All of a sudden the lapping water became a torrent of choppy water, then waves, then a whirpool. Alan gazed in amazement as did all the fine ladies, at what emerged out of the whirling vortex of carribean ocean. "Oh my god!" the asian girl screamed, "It's John Tesh's giant HEAD!" They all ran for cover, but the head was too large and mighty, and as it spoke of Christian values and moral constitution, the great wind of his breath knocked Thicke overboard. He hit the water with a slap, and sank quickly to the bottom of the sea. With panicked thoughts, he began to flail wildly, for surely he would not be able to make it back to the surface before running out of air. Finally, in a moment of resignation, he allowed the last bit of air from his lungs, and inhaled slowly, almost as if to savor the moment. Something strange happened then. Much to his surprise he awoke in a bed of leaves upon a distant shore not yet on any map. In the distance, he saw the sea and nothiong else. He heard seagulls and waves crashing. He had found himself alive, cast away like an oar or a volleyball. "F uck me."

Back in America, Glenn Greet had found his way to work, work being a sales company struggling to recoupe their losses after Surge soft drink bottomed out. When he arrived, sadly, he found that a disgruntled ocelot had rampaged through the office, killing most of the employees. After dispatching the animal with his handy ocelot net and can of Ocelot Away, he searched throughout the building and collected the dazed, weary survivors. Upon completion of the search, only four people remained alive, and two were badly wounded.

"What happened?!?!" Greet asked in as calm a voice as he could muster. The workers all looked at each other and simply stood in silence. "My god, people! Tell me what's going on!" He screamed. One of the wounded workers, Mary from accounting, stepped forward and opened her mouth. Greet was confused, but only for a moment. After another look inside he could see that her tongue had been cut out and burned off at the incision site to prevent her from bleeding to death. A moment later, the rest of the employees showed the same in their respective mouths. Greet was bewildered. Either that ocelot has some mighty surgical appendages, or things were not quite as they seemed.

* * * *

Local law enforcement, in cooperation with Federal Agents, were concluding their sweep of Kirk Cameron's bungalow for further evidence or cause for his death. Special Agent Doober found an extensive collection of Surge merchandise and several expired bottles in the former actor-turned nutso's fridge.

"What did the autopsy report say about stomach contents...other than the ashtray?"

"Concentrated orange juice, yellow dye #5-"

"Could it be he died from a Surge?"

"What, like a heart attack?"

Doober rolled his eyes.

* * * *

In the dark kitchen, closer than you think, evil was schemeing. But the silent evil was patient, and calculating. It had bided its time and planed to unleash its machinations, but not yet.

On the island Alan Thicke had found himself lost upon, the actor extradinaire had fashioned for himself a mighty bong made from the bones of a dead seal. He proceeded to smoke the bong with some friendly natives when suddenly they were visited by the ghost of the dead seal their bong had been formed from.

"Honk! Honk - honk - honk honk honk!"

Thicke was baffled, disturbed by his inability to communicate witht he apparition. His choice to pass on Sealish Language in college now seaming to be an unwise decision. The natives, however, DID understand the seal ghost, and their faces went white in horror. They fled back into the forest, leaving Alan Thicke to confront the vapor himself.

"Uh...honk honk?"

The ghost bolted out to sea in disgust, seemingly insulted by Alan's misuse of his language. "I wonder if this is a good thing or a bad thing?"

Glenn did what he could for the survivors of the Orcot massacre. But he was still haunted by thoughts of people eating dead babies. These people were called the morlocks. Bruding, underground dwelling creatures that ate human flesh and could not be exposed to sun light. Luckily, they had all been eradicated due to the destruction of their main headquarters, Enron. He had no involvment in the operation, considering how insignificant Greet was in the grand scheme of things, or so he told himself. But the stories he heard were frightening, and they reminded him of what he saw before him. Finally the police arrived, along with paramedics and the media.

"Sir, sir! What happened? Did you attack these people?"

"Are you mourning Kirk Cameron's death?"

"Are you a closeted transvestite worshipping Telly Savalas?"

Greet's head was swelling at the insane reporters' accusations and imaginations. An officer tried leading him away from the mass. "It's okay, son. We appreciate your nabbing the orcot. Very brave. And stupid. But brave."

"Sir," One of the reporters shouted, "are you involved in the sacrifices throughout the city?"

Before he could answer another reporter shouted "What do you think of the blind scorpions found in Isreal?"

Greet looked to the cop. "What's been goin on?"

"Some are saying the Apocalypse, but that's mostly a few senior citizens that sit around Old Country Buffet all day long. It's just been one of those days, you know? Murphy's Law, I guess. Did you hear Alan Thicke disappeared?"

"Wait, Alan Thicke is missing?"

It started to make sense to Greet, considering his long relationship with Thicke, ever since they had gone to that bar in Philly together, though the two very rarely spoke of that day. Despite all of this, Greet was mortified by his long time friend's disappearance. "What the hell could be happening?"

Meanwhile, somewhere far across the oceans and plains, a young girl played a flute in the middle of a bamboo jungle. Her eyes were dark as night, and her tune was one of great sorrow and strife.

All the animals surrounded her, mesmorized by the melencholy tune. She almost didn't hear the presence behind her, or its announcement. "................"

Alan Thicke had traveled most of the beach when he saw in the distance ahead a small boat that had been tied off to a dock he hadn't seen. This dock was attached to a city he hadn't seen before, either. "Civilization! Finally! Surge!!!!!!!!!!!"

The next few hours had passed with little or no action. Greet went home, assured by the big wigs he and his co-workers would be receiving sick pay for the next few days while they transferred in Mexican workers to fill the empty positions. He turned on his television to see another news report about Kirk Cameron.

"New evidence in the investigation has been brought to light, and the soda known as Surge plays an important role in erectile dysfunction. If such was the case with Cameron has not been confirmed, but local authorities are following up with possible connections between the actor and the people behind the failed soda."

Greet's skin turned white. It was all coming slowly together in a pot of ugly evil.../.././//......?.........

At this point Oprah's body raised from the ground. As was foretold by the prophet Ralph Nader, Oprah was in fact an indestructable Zombie until such an uncanny cure could be administered. until then, all hell would break loose...

Evil stirred until it could stir no longer. Emeril, evil master baker and sworn nemesis to all good and tasty, had sowed his seeds of revenge and pain, and he was about to witness his greatest victory...

Alan Thicke was hitching a ride on a freight train, helded up in the pig car. He had nestled himself int he corner, contemplating his next move...which actually would be his first move. After his near-death experience on the beach, he was committed to solving the death of Kirk Cameron. But how? he asked himself...

Glenn Greet sped down the highway in his rental car - a Honda Civic missing a hubcap and smelling of onions - towards the airport. He was going to the source. He had an idea who might be behind everything and he couldn't afford to waste any more time arranging his Hummel collection. The time for action was nigh. The flight to Philly was due to take off in 15 minutes...

Alan Thicke had hopped a bus to Philly when he decided he was more than in the mood for a good cheesesteak, but what to do about Kirk's death still plagued him...

The Oprah zombie massacred her way towards Philly, craving East Coast brains...

Downtown Philadelphia was as it always is at 12:53 in the afternoon...its highways, which looped in and out of Downtown, were filled bumper-to-bumper with employees trying to return to work from lunch. The city itself was sporatically bustling with commuters. They all came to a stop when a voice from atop a highrise screamed:

SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGEEEEE!!!!!!!!!

From rooftops, under the streets, out of the nowhere the city was flooded with carbonated green liquid, drowning all the poor souls who had gone to work that day.

From the plane, the sight Glenn saw was something out of a bad movie. The Streets of Philadelphia were flowing with Surge. The cheap under developed highly caffinated drink was everywhere. In the Sewers, flowing down the streets carrying everything with it like a raging flood. When the flood subsided, some of the citizens had ingested the stagnant surge. This turned them into blood-thritsy zombies and werewolves. The monsters of yestermyth were alive and angry. Philadelphia was no long the city of brotherly love, but brotherly buffet!

Oprah arrived in time to lead her army as they marched on the nearby banks of New Jersey...

As Alan Thicke swung open the freight car's door, he caught a glimpse of the monster army heading for Jersey, all shouting at the top of their lungs 'Surge! Surge! Surge!'

"Well, I'll be an uncle's bare-**bleep**ed monkey. That's the oddest thing I've ever seen...in Philadelphia." A plane flew overhead, a single person parachuting down from above. "Thicke!!!!!!!"

"Is that you, Glenn?"

The parachuter (?) landed ontop of the freight car. "Alan! You're alive! I heard you were missing."

"Don't you fret, glenn. I'm working on my comeback."

Glenn distached the opened chute and climbed down into the pig car. "Listen, Alan, do you remember that night we met at the convention?"

"Oh do I! I'll never forget how you claimed the girl you did all them body shots with by-"

"Not now, Alan." Glenn detached the chute and climbed down into the pig car. "Do you remember the other guy that night, the one from the convention?"

"No."

"The one who tried to kill you?"

"Doesn't ring a bell."

"The one who had just been released from the hospital..."

"Sorry."

"The one who..."

Suddenly, the two were assaulted with a barrage of bear claws.

"Bear claws?! What the-"

Alan Thicke was catching them in his mouth.

"No!" Glenn cried. "Don't eat them, Thicke!"

Within mere seconds, Alan Thicke died in a pig-filled freight car with a bear claw in his mouth.

As Glenn let go of his friend, three of the Surge-Oprah monsters saw Greet and altered their course to intercept. Glenn rumaged through his army bag to withdraw two bags of mini-marshmallows, the only uniformed weapon against monsters, and scattered the fluffy treats on the ground before running for the city. The zombies and werewolf stepped in the marshmallows - and were caught in their tracks.

* * * *

Using a hollow Elby's Big Boy statue, Glenn floated down the Streets of Philadelphia, searching for the perpetrator of the city-wide attacks. He heard the bellowing of monsters and Oprahites in the distance. He looked behind him and saw a fleet of Oprahite-piloted speed boats gaining on him. Not knowing what else to do, Glenn......Glenn closed his eyes and when they opened, the Oprahites were gone. The Surge was gone. The screams were gone. All that remained was himself...and Emeril...

"You?! How dare you enter the fortress of Emeril?"

"This is Philly, not a fortress, and how dare you turned its citizens into Oprahite monsters because you drank too much Surge and became impotent?"

"There should've been a warning!"

"You drank 6 liters a day for 5 weeks!"

Before their immature name calling could begin, a pteradactyal swung in an scooped Emeril up in its beak, flying off into the distance before any closure to the crisis could be assigned. Robbed of any victory, Greet headed for City Hall, hoping to find survivors to enlist in the clean up of Philadelphia.

But what of the Oprahites marching on New Jersey?



THE END?