Furniture Warriors Episode XI: Swivel Chair Madness! -or- Rock! Scissors! Mayhem! A joint effort between the mighty SPOOF CHASE and the upstart IMPROFANFIC (http://www.pixelscapes.com/improfanfic) Furniture Warriors created by: Stefan Gagne Episode XI written by: Jake Wallace --------------------------------------------------------- THE WORLD OF DISCOUNT FURNITURE... Well, a lot had happened to our protagonists (and antagonists, and random characters that serve no purpose but to entertain and be thoroughly smitten by the major ones). IKEA and LUMI had been tricked into entering the Furniture Warriors Tournament by HUGH, Ikea's former dojomate and arch-nemesis extraordinaire. There, they had met such lovely characters as Ikea's old friend, YARSLOV, who was from Sweden, but spoke in the Californian dialect; SHELLY, their distant (distant and furthermore, distant) cousin, who had a distaste for her father, MICK, who is also here; and LEONARDO, the suave European womanizer who has almost as much luck with the ladies of the tournament as his competitor, Yarslov. They also met their share of villains and treachery, from FIFI, the lingerie-clad servant of the evil EMPEROR OTTOMAN, and FIFI, the maid-outfit wearing, chandelier-wielding fighter, who had fought Yarslov, and then befriended Shelly, before becoming FRIGIDAIRE FIFI, and being used as the resident cooler for the beverage service of the Empire, after which she befriended scotch. Things had proceeded smoothly until recently, when the evil DR. PFISCHER used a dubbed version of the Barney movie to brainwash Lumi-chan into a life of evil. Ikea attempted to bring his sibling back from the power of the dark side and destroy the Emperor, but just before he could, this Improfanfic was sued by George Lucas for copyright infringement, and he had to start from square one. --------------------------------------------------------- SOMEWHERE IN OUR DIMENSION... "What?!" Dr. Ubermann exclaimed in disbelief. "The Executive is moving," the cloaked figure asserted, sitting from his comfortable position in a swivel chair. "He's been dormant for two years now. How can you be sure?" "I can feel it, Herr Doctor. He seeks true enlightenment." "And how, praytell, does he intend to do this?" The figure handed Dr. Ubermann a crumpled flyer. It said (or rather, would have said, were it able to talk) across the top line in large bold print: 'FURNITURE WARRIORS TOURNAMENT' "Where is this tournament being held?" "Across the dimensional plain. It is an ancient tournament that has been offered by the Ottoman Empire for millennia. Our lore speaks of it. However, none of our kind have ever gained the honor of being the victor of the tournament." "I do not wish to have to interfere with this tournament. I have a business to run. However, you are certainly permitted to pursue him to this dimension with your associates." "We shall be victorious." The cloaked figure disappeared in a highly cool Industrial Lights and Magic sort of way, leaving Dr. Ubermann to his posh three hundred and twenty fourth floor penthouse office at ScumCo Industries. "I've sought that blonde haired buffoon's life for too long now. They had better not fail." --------------------------------------------------------- AT THE TOURNAMENT... "Dude, seriously, you need to stop bumming. You're being totally bogus about this whole Shadow Lumi thing." "Ah, dear Yarslov, I thank you for your concern," Ikea said, while looking incredibly composed walking down the halls of one of the many floors of the towering mansion/hotel/restaurant/RV from Hell. "It is just that this Emperor concerns me. Hugh would not work for someone lightly. The Emperor must be vastly powerful and have incredible resources at his hands. I don't know if any of us here can stand up to his ability..." --------------------------------------------------------- HEY GUYS. CHECK IT OUT. I FINALLY MANAGED TO GET RED DWARF ON THIS THING, the Emperor gloated to his assembled minions, scientists, and other various nogoodniks of the universe. "Uh, Emperor?" Dr. Pfischer tried to grab Ottoman's attention from the monitors. "Your prisoner will be here momentarily. Perhaps we should discuss how you intend to use her. And would you please stop watching Red Dwarf on the closed-circuit TV? That's for monitoring the fighters." Ottoman shot Pfischer a glare worthy of an evil Emperor. DARE YOU QUESTION MY AUTHORITY TO WATCH RED DWARF, DOCTOR? "Never, your evilness!" GOOD. NOW, LET'S GET TO BUSINESS. Lumi-chan and Fifi walked through the door. Well, perhaps that wasn't accurate. Fifi walked through the door, however, Lumi-chan was most notably bouncing through the door. WHO GAVE HER CAFFEINE? The council assembled at the table looked around at each other nervously, wondering who could have made such a blunder. "No one, your highness," Fifi explained. "She's normally this way." GOOD HEAVENS. THE LEGENDARY QUEEN RADIANCE... BOUNCES? "Wai! Wai! Do you have any more ice cream, Mr. Eeeeeeevil Emperor, sir?" Lumi-chan giggled and attached herself to Ottoman's leg. GET IT OFF ME! GET IT OFF ME!! Sophia, who had recently had a personal meeting with a bronze plaque in the Zen Room, managed to pry Lumi-chan off the Emperor's leg, and held her at arm's length, genuinely puzzled by the girl's... cheeriness. PLACE HER IN THE PENTAGRAM. A black spotlight dropped dramatically onto a black star drawn on the black floor (It looked really cool too, but you had to be there...). Sophia locked Lumi firmly into place with the chains that were present in the center of the pentagram. "Wai! Wai! This is a family tournament!" CALM YOURSELF, QUEEN RADIANCE, AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE MORE ICE CREAM... "Wai! Lumi-chan is happy!" PREPARE FOR THE RITUAL OF UTTER EVILNESS. --------------------------------------------------------- Marlo was most assuredly not happy. He had been beaten, bruised, charred, sliced, diced, and strained through neptunium, for all he knew. He was dead set on entering this tournament. Fighting with furniture? He had never heard of anything so preposterous. He would enter the tournament, oh yes. He would do it with this smashing new weapon he had just acquired. "Heysh, kidddd, what'reyou... doin?" Marlo turned to see the quite humorous sight of Rebecca, Joanie (aka Frigidaire Fifi, aka French Fifi...), and Shelly plastered beyond recognition. They walked down the hallways in a symbiotic fashion, leaning on the others so as not to fall over and slip into unconsciousness. Marlo stood proud. "I challenge you all in this tournament! My weapon of choice is... this Krikkit Battle Club! Some nice white robots I met the last time I was hurtled out of this place gave it to me. They seemed to be spouting some nonsense about 'destroying everything that moved and some things that didn't.' I'll bap you all into oblivion, I say! Prepare for the death of a thousand bruises!" "Awsh, you're... just a keeeeeeyute widdle boy... Iddn't heeeeeee keeeeeeeeyute, Joaniefifi?" "Yesh, he izzzz, Shhhhhelly... Heysh, waaaaaait jusht a deern minit! He'sh a boy! Remembersh our vowsh?" "Heysh, yerrrr right! Letsh git im!" Marlo could utter only one word. "Eep." The resulting scene was too violent for direct commentary, but the general gist of the next five minutes was Marlo's head being slammed into the fridge door before his body was slingshotted out the nearest open window facing out into an open couple of miles for him to fly through (Look, kids! A run-on sentence!). His last heard words before disappearing into the darkness of the surrounding areas were "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiee!" --------------------------------------------------------- O DOMINE NIGRE, VENI MIHI IN GLORIA TUA. AKETAY ISTHAY IRLGAY WI-- "Sir, you've slipped into Pig Latin again." HEY! WHO'S THE BIG SHOT MASTER OF EVIL IN THE ROOM? WOULD YOU LIKE MY JOB? THIS IS TOO MUCH STRESS FOR AN EMPEROR TO TAKE! The Emperor punctuated this remark by slamming his head against the wall. OW! THAT HURT! "Maybe you should skip to the end of the ritual, your evilness," Dr. Pfischer suggested. CAPITAL IDEA... WITH THESE WORDS, I TAKE THY POWER TO BE MINE, QUEEN RADIANCE! IT IS... Lumi-chan looked up at the Emperor with Bambi eyes. ... IT IS... IT IS... "What is it, Emperor?" CONSARNIT! SHE'S TOO... CUTE. I CAN'T STEAL HER LIFEFORCE. I'D FEEL DIRTY. "What do you suggest we do, your vileness?" Dr. Pfischer asked politely. YOU MUST CONSTRUCT A DEVICE WITH WHICH WE CAN REMOVE THE CUTENESS FROM HER BEING. THEN WE WILL CONTINUE WITH THE MASTER PLAN. QUEEN RADIANCE'S POWER WILL BE MINE, I ASSURE YOU. WILL SOMEONE GET ME AN IBUPROFIN? --------------------------------------------------------- Ikea and Yarslov were still walking through the corridors of the mansion, discussing the abduction of Lumi-chan, and... other things. "Dude, do you know where the pool is? I bet there's some babealicious... babes there." "I am afraid not, Yarslov." "Bummer. Oh, bodacious! It's the game room! Come on, Ikea. I'll own you at Road Combateer Gamma Twelve!" "I have no need for such indulgences. I am entertained by the wind whistling through the mighty oak, the water lapping upon the sands, fire crackling on wood as it *OOF*." "As it *OOF*?" Yarslov and Ikea had both failed to notice the man scooting down the hall in a swivel chair. Ikea had walked right into him. "I apologize, friend. My clumsiness is due to a lack of focus from the abduction of my sister. "No apologies necessary, chap!" The man in the swivel chair flashed a winning smile. "I am Ikea," Ikea stated coolly, "and this is my friend Yarslov, from Sweden." "Sup!" Yarslov added. "Who might you be? I have not seen you here before." "I'm Harry! I'm handsome!" Harry exclaimed, again smiling. The angle caught a stray beam of light. It bounced off the petroleum jelly-enhanced dental marvel, and temporarily blinded Yarslov. "Whoa!" "Hello, Harry. Why have you come to the tournament?" "I seek to increase my understanding of the Swivel. It is a powerful ally." "Hmm... I see. I have heard of swivel chair fighting, however I prefer the Tibetan Furniture style, as does my friend, Yarslov... Yarslov?" Yarslov was on the floor, rubbing his eyes. "Dude!" "Perhaps you should come with us, Harry. This mansion bodes of evil. It is a dangerous place." Ikea might have looked worrisome for Harry, except for the fact that he couldn't move his face more than an inch other than to talk or blink. Harry scooted alongside the two furniture warriors in his usual fashion. --------------------------------------------------------- The sounds of one thousand people screaming in unison could not compare to the horror of this sound. It was something that any insomniac dreaded. However, any insomniac in the room, would have been instantly cured. The sound was that of significantly less than one thousand people snoring. The cause was a better medication for insomnia than being forced to watch The Best of Tom Snyder. Yes, Hugh was making another speech. "Zymball... Scott. Zymola... Dorothy. Zyntek... S.K. And now, on to the New York phone book... Aalborg... Susan. Aamensen... Kenneth..." Meanwhile, up in the press box that overlooked all the arenas in the mansion in which Furniture duels were held, the Emperor laid out more of his evil evil eeeeeeeevil plans... JAN, COME FORTH. A Buddhist monk stepped out of the shadows. He walked in a completely upright manner. For most people, this wouldn't be impressive. However, he was doing it while having a two-ton marble table strapped to his back. AH, MIGHTY JAN. YOU HAVE SERVED ME WELL THROUGH THE YEARS. NOW YOU WILL RECEIVE YOUR CHANCE FOR GLORY. "I live to serve, master." THAT'S THE SPIRIT. ALL OF YOU LOUSY INGRATES HEAR THAT?! Most of his minions, however, had exercised the misfortune of listening in on Hugh's speech. BLAST IT! OH WELL. ANYWAY, YOU HAVE THE TASK OF DEFEATING AN EASY OPPONENT. HE HAS NO CHANCE OF DEFEATING YOU. AS SOON AS HUGH FINISHES HIS SPEECH... The Emperor gazed down onto the arena floor to determine where Hugh was in his address... "With God as my witness, I shall never go hungry again!" HE MIGHT STILL BE A WHILE. THREE HOURS LATER... "'Tis a far far better thing that I do now, than I have ever done before..." A few restless sleepers in the crowd had woke up a few minutes beforehand, and gave Hugh sparse applause for his brilliant performance. "Thank you, thank you. I'm here all week. And now! Onto the first match of the day!" The obligatory "Wake up, it's time for the match" nudge worked its way around the auditorium. In fifteen seconds, everyone was well rested and awake. "As I was saying! Our first match pits... Jan, the loyal minion of the Emperor..." The crowd began to boo the Buddhist like a badly written WWF villain. "... against... Harry the Handsome Executive?" "That's me, chap!" Ikea would have raised an eyebrow at the recently discovered swivel-chair fighter, but that would have been uncool. The two fighters assembled on the stage. In an interesting maneuver, Harry somehow managed to scoot directly up the stairs to the floor. Apparently someone had neglected to make the stage wheelchair accessible when they built the mansion. It didn't matter much. The Buddhist monk bowed slightly at the waist, and quickly drew the table off his back, wielding the huge stone table with one hand. Harry could only say one word. "Eep." Jan chased Harry around the stage, occasionally slamming down the table like a flyswatter, trying to knock his opponent down seven stories with one deft blow. Harry scooted around like a madman, trying to find an escape path. Finding none, he kept trying to evade his attacker. Jan used his first special attack. "MARBLE TABLE SMACK!" Harry quickly turned his swivel chair around and braced himself for the impact. The huge table smacked against the back of the chair with a great cracking noise. The swivel chair scooted forward only an inch. Jan looked with dissatisfaction as he noted that now he was only holding half the table. The other half had snapped off like a twig. Yarslov was still rubbing his eyes during the match. He was finally getting the blur out of his vision. "Dude! Ikea! I can see again!" Ikea was no longer sitting next to him, as he had taken cover. The other half of the marble table landed right on top of Yarslov's skull. "Bummer," was all he could muster out before he fell unconscious. "Feel the power of the high tech polymer blend, you crazy table-wielder! Take this!" Harry proffered a six pack of soda from his back pocket and began throwing them at the Buddhist monk, who easily evaded the shaken beverages. He simply bowed again and dropped his half of the table. He held out his arm, and another table materialized before Harry's eyes. "Sweet merciful crap!" Harry exclaimed, and the cat and mouse game began anew. Ikea was watching with fascination from the crowd. He had just woke Yarslov up from his marble-enduced slumber. "Dude, that really hurt." "Half a ton of rock placed well into the face has a tendency to do that, dear friend. Do not worry. You have suffered worse..." At that exact moment, a letter, sealed neatly, dropped into Ikea's lap. "Dude, that's some killer mail service." "I wonder who it could be from," Ikea pondered as he opened the letter. Dear Ikea, I come to you anonymously. I must remain anonymous. Secrecy is absolutely necessary. I have information on the whereabouts of your sister. Meet me at Docking Bay 94 tonight. Signed, Anonymous. "Might be a trap," Yarslov noted. "Wait, there's more..." P.S. This is not a trap. "Well, that settles it then," Ikea affirmed. "I didn't even know this place had a docking bay. Groovy." "I have you now!" Jan had trapped Harry into a corner. He swung his table menacingly. Harry looked around wildly for something to use against his nemesis. He threw the first thing that came into his vision: a potted plant. It struck Jan right in the face and knocked him back to the other end of the stage. "Is that the best you can do?" Jan asked seriously. "No, but this is. FLAMING MAILCART OF DEATH!" The first question into many of the spectators minds was to wonder why there was a mailcart in the mansion at all. However, it speeded at a clip of twenty-five miles an hour across the stage. It would have impacted Jan straight away, but the potted plant that had just been used as Harry's weapon was in its path. When it hit the potted plant, it exploded violently in a huge fireball (Exploding into a giant fireball being the natural thing for a gas-powered mailcart to do directly after impacting something as flammable as an artificial potted plant). The flame consumed Jan, and when the dust had cleared, the unconscious charred form of the monk lay on the stage. Harry was victorious. "That'll learn you to mess with middle management!" CURSES! The emperor bellowed in the press box. HOW DID SUCH A WEAKLING BEAT ONE OF MY BEST WARRIORS SITTING DOWN?! "Perhaps we underestimated the benefits of swivel chair fighting," Dr. Pfischer suggested. YOU'RE DARN TOOTIN' WE DID! SOMEONE IS GOING TO PAY FOR THIS. WE NEED A WARRIOR SUCH AS THAT FOR MY EVIL MASTER PLAN! "He seems to have befriended the Queen Radiance's brother, and his Swedish friend. Look. They're all on the stage together..." "Man, that dude was heinous, little Harry bro!" "You fought honorably, Harry," Ikea chimed in. "Today, the battle is yours." Ikea noticed that during the fight, Harry's executive-style hairdo had not moved a centimeter. "Okay, you crazy cats are freakin' me out now," Harry said, looking rather quizzical. "Harry, dear friend. Would you help us in an attempt to retrieve my sister tonight? Your aid would be most appreciated." "Love to, chap! When do we leave?" The threesome (Hey! Get your mind out of the gutter!) walked/scooted off stage left. Meanwhile, a rather imposing fellow wearing a dark cloak scooted into the arena. The first person he saw was Miss Oeru, who had been banished temporarily from the press box after her last skirmish with Emperor Ottoman. "Where isss the Executive?" He hissed while he talked. "Who?" "Harry, the Handsome Executive..." "Oh, him. He left with Ikea and Yarslov after the fight. I don't know where they are." "Blast him to Hadesss!" The cloaked figure scooted up the ramp back to the door. "Hey, wait! You're one of those swivel chair fighters, right?" "Yesssss...." "Why don't you come up with me to meet my employer? I'm sure he'd just LOVE to meet you." "I musst bring my asssociatessss..." "There are more of you?" "We have brought three warriorssss..." "Perfect." Miss Oeru grinned. She would soon be back in the Emperor's favor. --------------------------------------------------------- The arena was cleaned out. Stray bits of marble and Jan that had been left behind were picked up. Another battle was set to commence. Shelly, Rebecca, and Joanie all walked in, popping aspirins and rubbing their heads wondering where they were. Hugh walked up on stage and took the microphone in one hand. "And now, a dissertation on the effects of phosphorescent light on playing cards. In my line of *GURK*." A lightning bolt arced from the press box to the stage. I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR BLABBERING FOR ONE DAY. I SHALL INTRODUCE THE NEXT MATCH, HUGH. Hugh, his neon pink hair slightly singed, was in no position to argue, and walked timidly to his first row seat. NOW, ARE WE READY FOR A BIT OF THE OLD ULTRA-VIOLENCE? Shelly, shot a headache-riddled glare up to the press box. "What did he say?" I SAID THE NEXT MATCH IS COMING UP, AND I'D APPRECIATE IT IF YOU WEREN'T SO CONDESCENDING, MISS THOMPSON. Shelly quickly shut up. THE MATCH WILL BEGIN AT MY REQUEST. THIS BATTLE WILL PIT BOB MCKENZIE OF THE BALSA WOOD FURNITURE WARRIORS LODGE OF ALBERTA, CANADA AGAINST MY NEON MINION, HUGH. IT'S CLOBBERIN' TIME! The match began. Bob McKenzie wielded a large balsa wood rocking chair. Hugh was still trying to extinguish the flames that were burning the right leg of his pants. "Hey, buddy. Let's have a good fight, eh?" Hugh simply shot Bob McKenzie a glare that would've frightened women and small children. He stamped out the fire on his clothing and drew out a large metal folding chair. This was no normal metal folding chair. It glowed with a shimmering white aura. It hummed lightly as he moved it about in his hand. This chair was far from mundane. It was the chair of all that was good in the world, and it was being used for evil. It was the legendary Exchairibert. The bell rang, signifying the beginning of the match (as it usually did, except in cases of signifying the end of the match, or tea, if the match had been improperly scheduled to coincide with the Four P.M. custom). Bob McKenzie made the first move. "CHAIR SLAM, EH?!" Bob leapt in the air, and time stood still for a moment. Orange flames encircled him, and cackling demons could be heard in the background. Time started again, and he brought down his weapon with earth-shattering force. The chair snapped in half immediately upon contact with Hugh's head. "Was that supposed to hurt?" Hugh snapped, in a similar manner to the chair. "Oh, for the love of Pete!" The ass whooping commenced. "RISING CHAIR FIRE!" Hugh exclaimed. Exchairibert glowed bright white with pure energy. Bob stood paralyzed with fright. Hugh snapped the chair forward in a huge arc, creating an uppercut motion. Bob McKenzie flew straight up, through the roof, and into the stratosphere. Hugh had won what was probably the shortest match in the long history of furniture combat. --------------------------------------------------------- Dinner at the Furniture Warriors Tournament was always an interesting sight. For some strange reason (probably just for Ottoman's sick amusement), dinner was an all-you-can-eat buffet that opened at a shotgun start. Of course, in a dining area, there was an abundance of objects that could be used as deadly weapons by the Furniture Warriors, even if they had left their tool of destruction in their room while they were eating. People were hungry, and willing to take drastic measures to reach the food. The gun went off. Carnage ensued. Three women, however, were not immediately up and running at the sound of the gun. They were Shelly, Rebecca, and Joanie (aka... oh, hell, you get the idea by now...). They were not happy. They had a vendetta against all men. And the aspirin wasn't working. "Erg. My head hurts," Joanie remarked. "Join the club. Right, Rebecca?" Shelly asked. "Rebecca? Hey, Rebecca!" Shelly pulled Rebecca's head off the table. She was unconscious again. Shelly let go. Rebecca's head bounced off the table vigorously. She remained unconscious. At that moment, Lumi-chan skipped back to the table from the line. She, as usual, had made it to the front of the line right away, being much more hyper than even the most sugar-laden warrior. She sat down right next to the other female warriors (minus Fifi, aka Not Joanie, of course). "Wai! How are you, next-next-next-next-next-next-or-something cousin? Hey, is she dead?" Lumi pointed at Rebecca. "No. She's just hammered. We all are." Shelly was the only one who seemed capable of talking without wincing in extreme and utter pain. "Oh, that's right! You were all at the lounge! Why did you leave?" "The bartender cut us off. So we dropped a file cabinet on him." "I bet that hurt a lot!" Lumi giggled. "No. I'm always careful not to accidentally drop it on my thumbs." Shelly rubbed her head some more. "Wai! You should have had lots of water to drink! Then you wouldn't be so hung over!" "Hang on a second. You're not old enough to drink. How do you know how to avoid a hangover?" Lumi just shrugged, and poked at her food. "Wai! This soylent green tastes like people!" Further down at another table, Mick O'Brien did a spittake at that comment. Shelly suddenly looked quizzical. "Hey, hold on. Aren't you evil or something now? "Wai! Wai! Evil is very very good! You should be evil instead!" Shelly rubbed her head again. Rebecca grunted from her facefaulted position. "I think your brother was looking for you. He mentioned something about Docking Bay 94 after the first match." "Wai! Docking Bay 94? Sounds spooky! But I don't know anything about that..." --------------------------------------------------------- MWAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! ALL IS ACCORDING TO PLAN! WELL, ALMOST... DAMMIT, WHERE'S MY FRAPPUCINO?! "I have it for you right here, sir!" Miss Oeru chimed. The Emperor's dark lair was an imposing sight to most. Miss Oeru had seen worse in her many years experience as a secretary and evil assistant to the stars. Charlie Sheen's apartment immediately came to mind. MMMMM... VANILLA. HEY! HOW DID YOU GET HERE! DIDN'T I BANISH YOU TO THE RECESSES OF THE MUNDANE? AND WHO ARE THOSE GUYS? "Yes, you did. The security guy let me in. And those guys are your new weapon of evil. I introduce to you, dear Emperor, the Ancient Swivel Warriors!" Three cloaked figured, seated in swivel chairs, scooted forward into one of the many operable spotlights in the dark lair. It was impossible to see any of their faces, but their manner of being was enough to even make the Emperor shiver with fright. ANCIENT SWIVEL WARRIORS, YOU SAY? WHY SHOULD I ADMIT THEM INTO MY DARK HIERARCHY? "They are even more powerful than the swivel fighter you saw today. They have offered their services in exchange for free rights to capture him when the tournament concludes." The Emperor smiled. WELL THEN, IF HE SURVIVES THE REST OF THE TOURNAMENT, HE WILL BE YOURS. HOWEVER, EVEN NOW YOU MAY BE ABLE TO FIND HIM. I HAVE A TASK FOR THE THREE OF YOU... --------------------------------------------------------- Docking Bay 94 was very dark. It was so dark, that even Harry's winning smile was finally darkened. It was so dark, that the atmosphere seemed to peer into the very souls of Yarslov and Harry. It, of course, did not peer into the soul of Ikea, for he was far to cool to have his soul peered into by mere darkness. "Heinous! This doesn't look like a docking bay. There aren't even any spaceships here. It's just a bunch of sealed crates." Harry pulled out his Bidirectional Amplified Dual-firing Stapler System (or B.A.D.S.S. for short) and tried his best to look as cool as Ikea normally would. He loaded a clip of staples into the high-velocity office weapon. "I have a bad feeling about this, fellows!" "Indeed you should!" A voice cried out from the rafters. Harry and Yarslov didn't recognize it immediately, as they normally were in cozy slumber as he made this sort of threat. Ikea, on the other hand, knew it well. "Hugh! I should have known it was you." "You have fallen into my delightful trap, dear Ikea, and now it is time for you to die! Mwah hahahahahahah! Mwah hahahahahahahahah! Mwah hahahahaha--" "Get to the point, Hugh-dude!" Yarslov snapped. "Yes! The point! Furniture Ninjas! Reveal yourself!" A dozen pre-placed spotlights dropped onto a platoon of black clad warriors. They all held various tools of furniture-based death. The armchair-nunchuku were a bit over the top. "ATTACK!" In trained fashion, the ninja jumped around, as they would in a standard martial arts movie. Ikea, Yarslov, and Harry were backed into the corner. They would have no other choice but to fight. Ikea and Yarslov readied their chairs, and Harry's finger pulsed on the trigger of his staplegun. "RISING CHAIR FIRE!" Ikea yelled. The first ninja met an untimely exit as Ikea's burst of furniture ki knocked him off his feet and across the bay into a well-placed empty crate, which smashed under his weight. The remaining eleven ninjas were slightly dismayed at how their compatriot was dispatched, but they fought on. Ikea and Yarslov engaged a group of ninjas at close range, while another three tracked Harry into a corner, feeling that they had him finished off. "EAT BURNING HOT METAL DEATH!" Harry screamed, as he fired off bursts from the B.A.D.S.S. Two streams of energy-charged staples flew out of the contraption. The ninjas were quickly dispatched into fits of howling pain. "FALLING CHAIR FIRE, OR SOMETHING!" Yarslov, in midair, changed direction vastly and took out another ninja, who had been ready to drop a rather large bureau on top of Harry. Yarslov's blast blew him fifteen feet in the opposite direction, where he landed on a quickly accumulating pile of black-clad bodies. "Thanks, chum!" Harry yelled as they both moved back into the fray. Hugh surveyed the carnage from atop the highest crate in the room. He noticed that his fighters weren't doing so well. Suddenly he felt a shiver, and swung around behind him to see if someone was there. "Oh, hello. And who are you three?..." "RISING CHAIR FIRE!" Ikea screamed again. The last ninja was blasted straight up, and landed directly atop the pile of stacked unconscious ninjas. "Is that the best you can do, Hugh-dude?" Hugh began Maniacal Cackle #56 (I'm about to pull out my wild card and beat the crap out of all three of you, so neener-neener). "No, Yarslov, it is not. May I introduce you to my three new friends?" The three cloaked figures scooted forward into more of the same spotlights that had been so accurately placed to provide ample drama. Harry's jaw would've smacked into the floor, had it not been securely fastened to his skull. "Guh... gu.. ann... AIEEEEEEEEE!" "What is it, Harry?" Ikea asked empathetically. "Annn... An.... Ancient... Swivel... Warriors..." Harry did everything he could to keep from fainting. The Swivel Warrior in the lead just smiled Harry. "It has been a long time, hasn't it, Executive? The last time we met, you were the victor. This time, you shall feel the wrath of the Ancient Swivel Warriors!" The three Swivel Warriors disappeared and rematerialized on the ground level of the docking bay. "RISING CHAIR FIRE, OR SOM*GURK*" A Swivel Warrior planted a foot firmly into Yarslov's abdomen from his seated position. With deadly accuracy, and mindboggling speed, the chairbound fighter quickly landed attack after attack on the Swedish surfer. "TIBETAN FURNITURE SLASH!" Ikea yelled, using a less familiar attack. A large flat disk of supercharged energy fired off his chair at a sharp angle to the ground. It smacked right into another Swivel Warrior, who was thrown from his chair, and rendered helpless. "Help! I've fallen and I can't get up!" The leader of the Swivel Warriors, however, headed immediately for Harry. "Prepare to die, Blondie!" "Buh... buh... million... shards of light... angels crying out... zeno... gias..." "What did you say?" "I said 'Eat Swivel and die,' you minion of darkness!" Harry spun around to the wall that was behind him, and kicked off the wall with all the force he could muster. The Swivel Warrior Leader quickly turned and braced himself. The two collided with an incredible smacking noise. A shockwave that eminated shook Ikea and the other fighting Swivel Warrior. Hugh was knocked off his high post. The two swivel chairs glowed red hot with charged energy and both attempted desperately to blast the other forward into oblivion. Yarslov sat up, aroused from his unconscious state in time to see Ikea dive at him and pin him down. "Hit the deck," he said in his usually cool fashion. The energy finally broke loose and both swivel-chair fighters were thrown in opposite directions. Harry was stopped rather impolitely by the wall he had just kicked off of. The Swivel Leader, however, flew through every crate in his way before smacking directly into... Hugh. The evil team of Hugh and the Ancient Swivel Warriors was all but finished off. Hugh spoke up. "Curse you all! We shall return, with greater force, and annihilate you all." The Swivel Warriors disappeared in the usual fashion, and Hugh ducked out his secret entryway. Ikea woke Yarslov again, and walked over calmly to the slightly discombobulated Harry. "Are you alright?" "Methinks I need a nap." "Come on, you two. We have won this battle, but the war is far from over." --------------------------------------------------------- The Emperor was seated in his expensive pressbox. The arena had been cleared for the next day's matches. Hugh was standing behind him. Ottoman looked very displeased. SO, AGAIN HUGH, YOU HAVE FAILED ME. "I did not int-" YES OR NO, HUGH. "Yes... master." DON'T LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN. IT IS OF LITTLE CONSEQUENCE. ONCE WE HAVE QUEEN RADIANCE'S POWER, I SHALL WIN THIS TOURNAMENT MYSELF. THOSE MEDDLING HERO WANNABES WILL RUE THE DAY THEY ALIGNED THEMSELVES AGAINST EMPEROR T. OTTOMAN! RUE, I SAY! RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUE!!! MWAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! MWAH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!! ".............aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEE*SMACK*" The Emperor looked down at the stage where the fights had recently taken place. A plaid-wearing warrior pulled himself out of the hole he had created in the hardwood floor. Bob McKenzie dusted himself off. "Aw, for the love of Pete!" --------------------------------------------------------- END PART ELEVEN! Stay tuned for more Furniture Warriors Part Eleven: E=MC^*DEATH!* SATIRE! SEX! VIOLENCE! POKEMON! HENTAI! FURNITURE! All these, and more in the next installment of Furniture Warriors, written by Geoff Tebbetts! Well, folks. That's all. I really had a kick writing this thing. I hope all my impro segs are this much fun. If you feel the urge to send me comments, go ahead and do so at kwteach@probe.net. If you send me an address, I may even send you a batch of Prozac cookies! Good night, everybody! Celebrity Pre-Reader Reviews Fei Fong Wong: ... Harry Caray: Holy Cow! George Lucas: I'm going to sue his ass for this one.