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(Dr. Irving Schlock is looking out an office window, looking sad or worried) -- Frog: Why do you seem so troubled, /*Irrrrving?*/ Schlock: Many things. -- (Schlock continues to stare out the window in sad silence) -- Schlock: At least I can apologize for one. | I'm sorry I couldn't trust you to go after Corsica that day I ordered you confined to your office. -- Frog: Oh pish-posh, Irving. Corsica and I are through. It took me the majority of a year to realize, but I bear her no ill will. -- Frog: And saying you're a little paranoid and I'm a little headstrong would be like saying Corsica's underbelly is a /little/ warty, ha-*HA!* And you can ask Gennaro about that, ha-/*HA!*/ -- (Frog sits smiling...) -- Frog: Because she's very warty. -- Frog: Everything is going swimmingly, Irving! With Riff dead and gone you have no repercussions selling his technology to the military! Not only is the government contracts [sic: should be "contract" (or "are")] another good revenue stream for the company, but you've opened our R&D to delightful new "materials" we can obtain without the government raising an eyebrow. We even have Oasis. -- Schlock: And I have the data I scanned during the Oasis attack, it all falls into place. All I have to do is track Torg to Dr. Steve's lab and I'll finally have everything I need. Nothing to worry about. -- Schlock: /*Except that my plan should have failed!*/ Instead of negotiating Oasis under our thumb I caused so many deaths and sent her on a rogue rampage. -- Schlock: And in the end I got everything I planned for! And since (*)I(*) didn't cause my plan to work, I humbly ask you, Frog, *who did?!?* -- Reynold Strom (aka Nash Straw; over the video-phone): Dr. Schlock? Reynold Strom here. Torg and a few of his recent acquaintances have vanished. Schlock (to the video-phone): What? That's /unacceptable!/ Don't waste my time with this: Just tell me when you've *located* him. -- Strom (over the video phone): This is a professional wipe. He is gone. I /literally/ do *not* have a first place to start looking. Strom (over the video phone): Credit cards, bank transactions, various street and business security cams, all recent records of him existing.... expunged. -- Schlock (to the video-phone): Find him, Strom! *Find him!* <*(*)BEEP(*) CALL DISCONNECTED.*> -- Frog: Look at the bright side Irving! Without Torg to follow, it was all for nothing, /wot?/ No need to be paranoid of someone else pulling the strings, eh? -- Frog: I'll let myself out. | of my OWN office. | (*)sigh(*) -- (Schlock returns to looking sadly out the office window) -- (A spider dangles down from the window before Schlock) === NOTE: Major Ref: _Schlock reveals that Torg is the key finding [sic: should be "to finding"] Dr. Steve's Base-Lab, and that Riff's death at Oasis' hands would set him on that path_ <http://www.sluggy.com/comics/archives/daily/081210>. _Frog Ordered Confined to Office_ <http://www.sluggy.com/comics/archives/daily/090320> Ref | _Random Corsica-Gennaro Ref_ <http://www.sluggy.com/comics/archives/daily/081209>. Fun Fact: Did you know "Pish Posh" has only been used _4 times in Sluggy history, and by four separate characters?_ <http://sluggy.info/search/?s=pish+posh>? | Flag | ||||
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Torg: Right, Homez! Let's get to it. So that's him. | Tell me about his escape and the Bill Clinton connection. Homogenize Milktoast: The President from Arkansas was touring local prisons. Verifying humane conditions and whatnot. - (Torg is holding, and looking at, Homogenize's report titled, "Blearious Stank | by Homogenized [sic: should be Homogenize] Milktoast") Homogenize Milktoast: Blearious Stank made an attempt on his life before blowing a hole in the prison walls and being the first wizard to ever escape that prison. (Newspapers ("The Occasional Profit") are scattered over the table; the headlines are "Murderer Escapes!" "Seven Murdered 15 Years Ago" "Stank Convicted | 15 Years Ago | Lone Witness"; back page headline: "Are You Animagus?") Torg: He must have been planning that escape for years, but waited for that moment. Why? Homogenize Milktoast: Not a lot is known about Stank's motives. But the Ministry has sealed all details of the event and put the President from Arkansas and his family into hiding just as they did you. -- Kiki: You got mail *birrng* Weaselo Ronsnaps: That's /*it!*/ Professor Kate's vague prediction from divination class! -- </Flashback> Professor Kate Bahlmajik: /*The President from Arkansas is nearer than you think!*/ </End flashback> -- Weaselo Ronsnaps: They're hiding him here too! Homogenize Milktoast: Pish posh. Didn't she also do that ridiculous tealeaf reading on Torg? -- </Flashback> Professor Kate Bahlmajik (looking into a teacup): You're doomed, Torg! -- Professor Kate Bahlmajik (holding out the cup to reveal a tea leaf that looks like a skunk): *You have the /*STINK-EYE!*/* </End flashback> -- Weaselo Ronsnaps: I thought you were in Homnigrits' familiars class. Tootsiepop looks "hugged". Divination class was at the same time! Homogenize Milktoast: Overachiever, remember? Torg's mail: TORG! In my office NOW! -Gandeldorf [sic: should be Gandledorf] -- Minister Finster: Ahhh, to meet the Lastnameless One at last. I am Finster, Minister of the Ministry of Ministering. You've met my newly appointed sidekick, Lucius Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy: *Advisor! Not sidekick.* -- Minister Finster: What's the difference? Lucius Malfoy: Sidekicks are goodguys, advisors are badguys! Everybody knows that. -- Minister Finster: For the last time, the ministry isn't evil. It's just bloated and stupid. Let's have you be my "yes-man." Lucius Malfoy: Fine! -- Gandledorf: What brings you all to my office at this hour? Lucius Malfoy: I'll tell you what! My son needed surgery to remove that wand! *Do you understand what I'm saying?* -- Gandledorf: That you're accusing Torg of doing something horribly embarassing, Lucius? *Unforgivably Embarassing* perhaps? Minister Finster: Busdolf, the recent violence in the school /has/ required the Ministry lay down some laws. -- Minister Finster: *The Duh-Mentors are to be kept off the school grounds. Any creature harming a student, Duh-Mentor or not, is to be destroyed.* -- Lucius Malfoy: And... a spellbind of restraint is to be kept between Torg and Ralfoy Malfoy for the rest of the school year. -- Weaselo Ronsnaps: What was the meeting about? Torg: They're kicking the Duh-Mentors out of the school. Weaselo Ronsnaps: Well, what's wrong with that, Torg? -- Torg: It was Luscious Malfoy's idea. Lucius Malfoy: */LUCIUS!/ MY NAME IS /LUCIUS,/ GODDAMMIT!* | Flag | ||||
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Gwynn (hanging up a wreath): Zoë's in charge of that. -- Zoë (blocking the door to the dining room): *Where are you going, Torg?* Torg: After a few days of gnawing through the fridge in a post-rice-cake-frenzy I've decided to have *this* plate of nuked buffalo wings like a civilized human being. -- Zoë: *You can't go in the dining room!* Torg: Why? Zoë (a light bulb appearing over her head): Uh... -- Zoë: Because last time you ate a "civilized" meal of buffalo wings we had /chicken bones in the chandelier!/ -- Torg: /Pish/-posh! Those were simple /parlour/ games *after* the /civilized/ meal. Zoë: *Dining-room off limits!* | Flag | ||||
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Mousse: Careful, Stu! Those little robot claws look sharp! Stu (shaking one of the robot's hands): Pish-posh! The Teknokons were developed for construction and exploration, not combat! -- Robot #1 (turning away): Fine! Don't be destroyed! Wahhh. Robot #2 (turning away): I Concur. Wahhh. Stu: Although I'm thinking the "mayor" might have modified these slightly. Mousse: Wait, Stu is /right/ for once? Pâté: The amount /he/ talks? You gotta like those odds. -- Face (narrating; over four visual panels): The Caribs searched the vast timebubble and found a lush maintained garden, a moderate tin cabin, and lots and lots of Teknokon parts. What confused them most was that there wasn't enough sentient life to sustain a time bubble that large. Enough to fill their timelines a hundred times over. And easily enough to rescue Chuck from the long Grey! -- Chuck: /*Eyyya!*/ Pâté, how'd you get over there so fast? -- Face (narrating): There appeared to be only one way to get answers. <**ding dong**> -- Mousse: Um, hello, "Mayor" Sorry about that bit before... -- Mousse: ...we were just wondering what was sustaining all this time in this Teknokon junkyard. Stu: Wait! Not a junkyard! A /*graveyard!*/ -- Stu: /*YOU'RE CRAZY CARVER OF THE TEKNOKON GRAVEYARD!*/ -- Crazy Carver (off panel; from inside the tin cabin): **WAHHH!!!** <**SLAM!**> -- Crazy Carver (off panel; from inside the tin cabin): **WAHHH!!!** Stu (clinging onto Mousse): **WAHHH!!!** -- Mousse: "Crazy Carver" is a myth, Stu! But you're used to screwing up. Why cry this time? Stu: **FOOT... STUCK ...IN... DOOOOR...** | Flag | ||||
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Bestseid (popping the cork on a bottle of bubbly): You and I both know he's an empty suit. Now more than ever. I can't help but feel you are upset. We are now on the same side, after all. <*POP*> -- Sasha (trying to make light): How you treat your minions is your business and it doesn't bother me. Bestseid: Not (*)my(*) minions, my dear. But you are one of them. Sasha: Not if I quit. -- Bestseid (holding up two glasses of bubbly): You are free to do as you like. I'm sure Minion Master will be thrilled to review your resignation letter in the morning. You'll be staying the [sic: should be "in the"] Penthouse suite reserved for you precious first-round minions. -- Sam (excited): These digs are so /*fancy*/ Kiki! Kiki: We're regular /swells,/ Sam! Sam: The other minions, their rooms don't have a single bar in them! We have /*eighteen!*/ -- (Sam beams contentedly, while Sasha hangs dejectedly onto the cell bars) -- Sasha: There are 23 bars including the lone window, Sam. Sam (annoyed): I didn't say I was done counting yet. Besides, we're fancy: Don't we have people to do math for us? Sasha: I'll call room service. Kiki: Pish-posh! | Flag |