Furniture Warriors 
   
            PART TWENTY: Frito-Layin' the Smackdown!
                              or 
                  Smell What Marlo's Cookin'!
 
              (Formerly) A Spoof Chase Production
                              NOW
                    An ImproFanfic Production, 
              Thanks to me, because I'm the admin, 
                   and that's the bottom line.
              (http://pixelscapes.com/improfanfic)
 
                A Furniture Warriors ImproFanfic 
              created by Stefan "Twoflower" Gagne.
            
                 This Episode by Jake Wallace.
              
   (All characters copyright Nihana-san, obviously.  If I ever
   even considered claiming that these were my own characters
   I'd probably be thrown into a small cell where I'd be forced
   to eat Taco Bell to live.  Actually, I wouldn't.  I'd just 
   lie and scapegoat about it.  I'd probably blame Dan Wood.)
   
=====

What's going down, for those living in a cave:

    Dark Queen Radiance made no mention of the word 'Wai,' showing that
she's really mad about the fact that Ikea supposedly stole her ice
cream.  Her continuous brooding was building towards a breaking point,
and she has apparently awakened her 'true powers.'  Still no explanation
was made as to why, although the furniture in the pocket dimension has
disappeared, that Lumi-chan still has her lightbulbs.

    The Emperor, Ikea, and Dr. Pfischer had another training session. 
Dr. Pfischer seemed to get the worst of it, and was attacked vigorously
both by the expert furniture combateer, Emperor Ottoman, and the cement
floor of a secluded portion of the castle.  Pfischer had a plan, which
he related to Ottoman as to how to turn Ikea to the Dark Side.  At this
point, the fanfic received another lawsuit from Lucasfilms for making
gratuitous Emperor Palpatine references.

    Dr. Shockwave, acting on behalf of all that is good, tied up Yarslov
and Fifijoanie in a particularly evil way, draped Shelly over his
shoulder, and made off like a bandit to find Mick in the pocket
dimension.  For some reason, the Flaming Avocado of Doom is growing
larger and larger.  Can it be stopped?  Will it be stopped?  Probably
only if someone figures out a decent gimmick for it.  Hey, if Dr.
Shockwave had an evil twin, would he constantly do good things by
mistake?

    Lastly, our hero confronted the superpowerful Marlo Semaj during his
tirade at the main furniture assembly.  Marlo challenged him to a match,
which Ikea, being a valiant warrior, accepted.  Marlo then proceeded to
pull Ikea's oaken chair out of FurnitureSpace, and nearly caused Ikea to
grow an anime sweatdrop.  Nearly.

=====

    Ikea stood, defenseless, across the platform from Marlo Semaj, a kid
who had thoroughly dismantled Yoshi, and his weapon, Tony, at his last
exhibition.  Ikea certainly had the power to retrieve a weapon from
FurnitureSpace, but even if he didn't have a moral dilemma with using
another person's weapon, he wouldn't be comfortable using anything else
besides his trusted chair.  He might have been worried, but would anyone
have been able to tell?  Probably not.

    Marlo spoke up.  "It's time for you to go one..." he paused as
various voices from the audience spoke inharmoniously, "on one!"

    "...with the Great One!" he finished as he wielded the chair with
obvious (to Ikea) lack of knowledge of how the Tibetan Furniture Style
really worked.  Of course, without a weapon, Ikea could be properly
bashed into oblivion and it really wouldn't matter, but that was besides
the point.

    "Enough of this!" a voice exclaimed from the back of the arena. 
Marlo snapped to the side to see who was speaking.  At the entrance to
the massive auditorium was Dr. Shockwave, still carrying Mick over his
right shoulder.  Shelly was awake, and quite woozy, walking into chairs
and walls, as if she were still under the effects of her last drinking
party with Joanie and Rebecca.

    Shockwave continued, "You!  You're usurping the glorious Queen's
domain!  It's because of people like you that she is like this!  You'll
never get away with this!"

    Marlo fumed.  "How DARE you interrupt Marlo's show and bust into
Marlo's arena without even introducing yourself.  Who are you, anyway?"

    "I'm Dr.-"
    
    "IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOUR NAME IS!  Marlo says he's going to take
this here oaken chair, and start twirling it on his finger like so," he
said, as he spun the chair like a basketball on his index finger. 
Murmurs arose from the crowd, as if they could tell directly where the
speech (and the chair, ironically) was going.  "And then Marlo's gonna
take that chair, put a layer of Minwax on it, turn it sideways, and
stick it direckaly up your candy ass!"

    Shockwave gulped loudly, and tried to pull his foot out of his
mouth.  "Oh, well, heh, I'd hate to have mistakenly interrupted your
spee-GURK."  The sound produced by Dr. Shockwave was not dissimilar from
that produced by the contracts of the main characters of an
improvisational weekly episodic fiction about magical girls, which shall
not be mentioned lengthily in this record of events.  Marlo brought down
the chair with tremendous force on Dr. Shockwave's head, instantly
knocking the good mad doctor unconscious, and smashing the oaken chair
into dozens (and dozens) of pieces.  Ikea's eyebrow twitched.  Once.

    Marlo hopped back up on stage.  "Such is the fate for all roody-poo
candy asses, if you smelllllllllalalalala, what Marlo's cookin'!  And as
for you..." he turned back to Ikea, who was still standing in place from
before.  "Now it's time to die," he said threateningly as he pulled a
baby grand piano from FurnitureSpace.

    Ikea didn't look worried, but after all, he was Ikea.  He did,
however, turn slightly to look behind Marlo.  He immediately dropped to
the floor, and covered his head.  Marlo looked down upon him.  "Hah, as
if I'm going to fall for that tired old gag and look behind me."

    Marlo was once again interrupted before his match could begin.  This
time, it was by the eloquent argument of a steel file cabinet slamming
into the back of his skull.  Dr. Pfischer helped Ikea stand up, and the
two hurried off the platform and into the recesses of the castle.

    The crowd was dumbfounded.
    
=====

    Hugh and Fifi (of the lingerie, not the fridge) walked down a lonely
corridor of the castle.  They seemed fairly depressed, and with good
reason.  Their jobs had been effectively terminated, as the Emperor was
out of power, and Marlo had taken over as temporary fight announcer. 
Hugh was taking out his aggressions verbally on Fifi.
    
    "...and the way you and that Rebecca girl go at it, I'd swear you
were flirting.  I'd almost think that you used to be a man and had a sex
change operation or something!"

    A sweatdrop formed on Fifi's head, and she rambled.  "Heh, a man...
that's a good one.  Man, heh..."

    "Of course, I suppose that couldn't be right either, after the looks
you were giving to that Mick guy," Hugh continued.  "Who is he, anyway?"

    "Oh, he's an old friend.  I knew him a long time ago."
    
    "Yeah, well it still seemed fishy to me.  You two don't have
anything going on together behind my back, do you?  Because if you do,
I'll have to AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!..."

    Fifi raised an eyebrow.  "You'll have to what?"  She looked around,
to see a surprising lack of Hugh in the general area.  She looked down
to see a large hole in the ground, falling to someplace deep within the
bowels of the castle.  It was completely dark.

    "Funny," she said.  "I don't remember there being a hole here
before..."
    
=====

    Yarslov was bummin'.  This place, in a word, sucked.  It was all
dark, and stuff.  There was no apparent way home.  The Flaming Avocado
of Doom was growing ominously.  And to top it all off, he had the
munchies.

    Hence, Yarslov was hunting for something to eat.  Dr. Shockwave had
to have some kind of snack food around somewhere.  The secret was
finding a fridge, or a cupboard, or a grocery store.  He wasn't having
any luck.

    Joanie, who had been unconscious for quite some time now, chose this
time to wake up, to the sounds of objects being tossed about in a nearby
room.  She stood up and dusted herself off, and found the source of her
rude awakening.

    "Yarslov, what on Earth are you doing?" she asked.
    
    "Oh, hi.  I'm trying to find somethin' to eat," he replied.  "You
don't have anything, do you?"

    "No, I don't."
    
    "Drag," he said, as he continued to rustle through random closets
and shelves for anything edible.

    She grumbled loudly at Yarslov's lack of chattiness.  He was
annoying, but at least he was someone to talk to.  "Hey, Dr. Shockwave
left?" she asked.

    "Yeah.  He took Shelly with him.  We're here alone."
    
    "How long since he left?"
    
    "About two hours.  Why?"
    
    "Well, he might not be back.  He said it took ten hours for his
portal to recharge.  We may have to figure out how to work it ourselves.
 Otherwise we might never get home."

    "Righteous!" Yarslov exclaimed.
    
    "No it isn't, you dunce.  Do you know how to work that thing?"
    
    "No, but I just found some Fritos!" he said, ripping open the bag.
    
=====

    The Emperor's chambers were an impressive sight.  The decorum would
impress even the most stubborn of critics.  However, it failed to make a
noticeable impression on Ikea, who wouldn't flinch if an atomic bomb
went off underneath his posterior.

    YOU NEARLY BLEW IT BY DUCKING, YOU KNOW.
    
    "I wasn't aware that you were planning a sneak attack.  You might
have informed me beforehand," Ikea said, calmly.

    IT LOOKED FAR MORE GENUINE THIS WAY.  HAH, MARLO DIDN'T EVEN KNOW
WHAT HIT HIM.  SO MUCH FOR HIS RULE.  IT SAYS SPECIFICALLY IN THE RULES
TO BE AN EVIL OVERLORD THAT IF THE HERO DUCKS AND HITS THE GROUND, HE
SHOULD DO THE SAME RATHER THAN MOCKING HIM OPENLY.

    "Yes, well, that was not the honorable thing to do.  I must take
care of my own battles," Ikea said.

    "He did a dishonorable thing as well.  He took your weapon, and
demolished it, as well," Dr. Pfischer added.

    "Yes, that does bode a problem.  I have no weapon."
    
    WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, YOUNG ONE?  YOU HAVE ALL OF
FURNITURESPACE AT YOUR DISPOSAL.  YOU CAN EASILY CHOOSE ANOTHER WEAPON,
SURELY.  THERE MUST BE SOMETHING ELSE YOU CAN USE.

    "I don't think so," Ikea said somberly, as he ruffled through
FurnitureSpace to check.  "Yarslov's beach chair is gone.  That would be
about the only other thing I could easily wield.  Oh, and Hugh's chair,
Exchairibert is still in there."

    I THINK WE'VE ALL HAD ENOUGH OF THAT TIRED GAG.  DR. PFISCHER, WHAT
OTHER WEAPONS DO WE HAVE AT OUR DISPOSAL?

    "Well, the Ancient Swivel Warriors are still around, somewhere. 
However, without their chairs, they dropped into some sort of mindless
drivel about money management.  They're even weaker than I."

    HMM.  THIS IS A PROBLEM.  PERHAPS, IKEA, YOU WILL HAVE TO LEARN TO
USE A NEW WEAPON.

    "New weapon?" Ikea asked, slightly bewildered.
    
=====

    Marlo wasn't very happy.  He never had been, at that rate.  But now,
he was really pissed off.  He was pacing, and frowning, and raising the
Furniture Warriors' Eyebrow while cursing under his breath.  Miss Oeru
calmly watched him from the corner of the head office.

    "Ikea," he spoke to himself, "you think you're all bad, with that
cool, calm demeanor?  Well Marlo thinks you're way the hell overrated. 
From the moment you step up to fight, the hundreds..." he paused.

    Marlo and Miss Oeru were alone in the offices.  The doors were
closed.  Marlo wasn't speaking altogether too loudly.  Yet, still, from
a distant point, a large group of people spoke somewhat simultaneously,
"...and hundreds..."

    Marlo continued, "...of Marlo's fans look at your candy ass and say
to themselves, 'Aww, this guy sucks.'  Well, tonight, Ikea, Marlo's
gonna teach you a lesson you'll never forget.  He's gonna cart you down
Jabronie Drive and check you direckaly into the Smackdown Hotel!"

    Miss Oeru coughed.
    
    "Oh," Marlo said, noticing his secretary.  "You're here.  Is there
any pressing matter that Marlo needs to take care of?"

    "Oh, no.  Not much," she said.  "You did get one letter.  From
someone named Duane Johnson.  He said he's going to 'sue your roody-poo
candy ass' for copyright infringement."

    Marlo raised the Furniture Warriors' Eyebrow again.  "Tell me
something Miss Oeru.  Do you like Italian food?"

    Miss Oeru nodded.
    
    Marlo continued, "How about spaghetti?"
    
    She nodded again.
    
    "With meatballs?"
    
    "Yes," she said.
    
    "Then meatball your ass on out of here!"
    
=====

    Nine hours and fifty minutes had passed since Dr. Shockwave had left
Yarslov and Joanie to themselves.  Joanie had managed to find a thirty
volume set of instruction manuals on how to work the portal.

    "This is hopeless," Joanie commented, still focused intently on the
book.
    
    Yarslov might have been intently focused on the book, but he was
still munching rapidly on chips.  After the first bag, he had found a
massive hidden stash of the things.

    It was at that time that Yarslov chose to look up.  He dropped his
bag onto the floor.  The chips inside spilled all over Joanie's reading.

    "Hey, watch it you klutz!  You're going to get the pages all greasy!
 ...Yarslov?"  Joanie also looked up and was similarly entranced.

    The Flaming Avocado of Doom had stopped flaming.  Unfortunately, it
was now glowing bright white, and pulsing rhythmically.  And it was
starting to go faster.

    "Heinous," was all Yarslov could muster out.
    
    "Come on, Yarslov!  I need your help.  We've got..." she checked the
clock on the wall.  "...two minutes until the portal can open.  We've
got to figure out how to use it before something really bad happens."

    The two (one more than the other) searched frantically for some sort
of answer in the books.  The Avocado continued to pulse, each beat
coming faster than the previous.

    A beam of light shot out from the Avocado and onto Yarslov's head. 
He yipped like a small dog as it did, out of a gut reaction.  "Hurry up,
Joanie-dude!"

    "I'm going as fast as I can, you Swedish meatball!  Thirty seconds!"
she yelled.

    Yarslov ran around, screaming and giggling like a schoolgirl.  He
slapped his face a couple of times and started slamming into walls.

    Joanie was screaming.  "We're not gonna make it!  Five... four...
three... two..."

    Yarslov bounced off a wall, and ran right into the portal generator,
flipping a random switch on the console.  The station instantly lit up
and the portal opened.

    Joanie blinked.  Twice.
    
    Yarslov regained what little sense he had to start with, grabbed
Joanie, and jumped through the portal just as the Avocado exploded with
a burst of light.

    The room calmed down.  It was covered with blasted avocado, but it
was still intact.  From the husk of what remained of the Avocado, a
woman stepped out of the mess.  She approached the portal generator, and
looked at it quizzically for a moment.  A lightbulb flickered on above
her head.

    "A portal generator!  Shockwave did manage to create one, then..."
    
    She picked up a discarded bag of Fritos, plucked one out of it, and
rubbed it against the wall, picking up some of the avocado shrapnel,
before consuming it.  She began studying the controls.

=====

    Hugh slammed into the hard floor of a dark room in the deepest part
of the castle.  He rubbed his bottom profusely, muttering to himself as
he did so.  He noticed a hallway out, but it was full of moving saws and
blades, lasers, and automatic weapons.

    "Eep," was the only word he mustered out.  He looked at the rest of
the room.  A large piece of machinery occupied its center.  Off to the
side of it was a piece of tarp with a label on it, which read 'NOT A
VORTEX, ACTUALLY AN ICE CREAM MAKER.'

    Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure huddled in the
corner.  His face was unshaven, and his clothes were torn.  He was a
mess.  He scooted around on his rear, making squeaking noises against
the floor.  Hugh raised an eyebrow.

    "Harry?"
    
=====

    Dr. Pfischer floored Ikea again with the file cabinet.  He was
giggling happily.  "I win again!  I win again!"

    Ikea rubbed his head, as the Emperor sighed heavily.
    
    SO MUCH FOR THE WICKER CABINET STYLE.  NEXT UP IS THE MICROWAVE
COOKERY STYLE.

    "Perhaps we should stop for the afternoon," Ikea suggested, feeling
fairly bruised.

    HMM.  PERHAPS.  IT IS NEARLY TIME FOR RED DWARF.  I WOULD HATE TO
MISS ANOTHER EPISODE.

    Dr. Pfischer, who remembered the last time the Emperor had missed an
episode and pummeled him within an inch of his life with the remote,
agreed heartily with the motion.

    Ikea bowed in his usual fashion, and left the Emperor and the Doctor
to their British comedy.  The Emperor took the time to comment on the
situation.

    HE IS A WEAKLING WITHOUT HIS CHAIR.  HE REFUSES TO USE ANOTHER
WEAPON, AT LEAST WITH DECENT PROFICIENCY.  HE IS OF LITTLE USE TO US
LIKE THIS.

    Dr. Pfischer was confused.  "What do you suggest we do, then?  He is
a powerful ally.  He gives us the gateway to FurnitureSpace so we don't
have to keep our weapons in the open."

    TRUE, TRUE.  WE SHALL SEE HOW HE FARES TONIGHT.  UNDOUBTEDLY THAT
EAGER FOOL MARLO WILL CHALLENGE HIM AGAIN.  WE WILL NOT INVOLVE
OURSELVES, BUT WATCH FROM THE DISTANCE.  IF IKEA MANAGES TO MAKE DUE, WE
SHALL CONTINUE OUR ALLIANCE...  ACK.  I'VE MISSED THE OPENING TO RED
DWARF.

    The Emperor whacked Dr. Pfischer with a nearby alarm clock.
    
=====

    Fifi was legitimately worried.  Hugh had suddenly dropped off the
face of the castle.  And she really didn't know what to do about it. 
She looked frantically about for someone who she could trust to help her
get her longwinded companion back.

    She found Leonardo DiMario.
    
    Leonardo wasn't feeling too great about ditching Yarslov and Joanie
as they went hunting for Shelly, but this was for a sake greater than
even that beautiful prize.  Yes, it was for his beauty sleep.  Some
things could not be sacrificed for valor.

    "Hey!  You've got to help me!" she cried.  
    
    Leonardo grinned widely.  "Ah, sweet belle, what do you need?  I
shall be more than willing to help."
    
    "Hugh fell down a big hole in the ground!  I need someone to help me
find him back!" she continued.

    Leonardo stopped grinning.  He was less than thrilled.  "That pink
clad cur?  Never.  He can rot, as far as I'm concerned."  He wasn't
thrilled with Hugh's choice of fashion mainly, despite the many hours of
beauty sleep given to him by the spiky-haired artist.

    Fifi protested.  "But... but..."
    
    "There, there," Leonardo continued.  "You'll find him eventually.  Just
without me."  He strolled off, as quickly as he could.

    Fifi grumbled as she continued down the hallway.
    
    From a dark corridor, Rebecca snickered softly, having witnessed the
encounter.  Her revenge wasn't over yet.

=====

    The group of furniture warriors assembled in the main arena looked
more like a group of redneck wrestling fans than trained warriors of the
furniture arts.  Signs reading 'MARLO 3:16' dotted the crowd with color
in what was normally a somber place of preparation and observance of the
other warriors.

    A grinding piece of rock music came from the loudspeakers.  The
warriors began hooting and hollering even louder than they had
previously.  Marlo walked out from backstage with a microphone.

    "DO YOU SMELL WHAT MARLO IS COOKING?" he asked, using his best
Emperor Ottoman impression.  He then proceeded to pose threateningly
around the stage, raising his eyebrow, and lowering his shades so that
he could peer over them.  He caught sight of Ikea sitting in the crowd,
and stopped moving around.  The music cut out.

    "Ikea, Marlo says get your ROODY-POO..."
    
    The audience continued the line, once again, "...CANDY ASS..."
    
    "...up here on this stage so that Marlo can lay the smackdown on
your candy ass!"

    Ikea, calm and collected, walked up to the stage, showing an air of
confidence, despite being completely unarmed.  Marlo grinned slightly at
this predicament.

    "Aww, is poor Ikea without his precious oaken chair?  I'm sorry that
I broke it into a million pieces right in front of everyone... No,
actually, I'm not.  What do you think about that?"

    Ikea didn't respond.
    
    "Hey!  Answer me when I ask you a question.  What do you think about
that?"
    
    Ikea remained motionless.
    
    Marlo looked about, worried.  The catchphrase didn't work if he
didn't get a response.  He wasn't sure where to go from here.  "Alright,
fine then!  However, seeing as you're unarmed, I'd feel kinda low
beating you up.  So, I'll give you a deal.  If you get on your knees and
beg forgiveness for challenging me, I'll let you survive without a
gruesome beating."  Marlo pulled a cuisinart from FurnitureSpace to
emphasize his point.

    Ikea spoke.  "You'll have to defeat me before I will give in."
    
    Marlo frowned, and put the cuisinart away.  "Fine then.  I'll
destroy you like I did to that pathetic excuse of a teacher."  He
promptly pulled a propane grill out.  He hoisted it high above his head,
and began to charge it with ki.

    "VARIED...
    
    Ikea closed his eyes.
    
    "... FURNITURE..."
    
    The crowd gasped.
    
    "...BLA-"
    
    The arena exploded with a blast of light.  The first row of the
crowd fell back over their chairs into the second row.  The domino
effect continued back for a good twenty rows.  The entire audience was
temporarily blinded.  When the dust cleared, and everyone could see
again, Marlo was unconscious on the arena floor, with scorch marks over
his face.  Ikea was gone.

=====

    Ikea blinked.  His eyes had been closed, but the blast of light had
shone right through, blinding him as well.  It took a minute for
his eyes to get adjusted to a dimmer atmosphere.  He could make out the
vague form of a young woman standing before him.

    "Who are you?" he asked.
    
    As his vision cleared, he could make out a dark room, dominated by
machinery.  His back was to a larger example of one, with a satellite
dish attached.  He could now fully see the woman.  She had long red
hair, bright eyes, and a glowing white aura.  Around her head was a band
with two shining lightbulbs attached.

    "Greetings, Ikea," she said.  "I am Queen Radiance."
    
=====

END PART TWENTY

Stay tuned for Furniture Warriors...
PART TWENTY-ONE: The Trouble With Twins

HUMOR!  VIOLENCE!  FLAMING GUACAMOLE OF DOOM!  FURNITURE!

    In the next segment of Furniture Warriors, written by:
                        NeoPuu!
                        
Author's Notes:
    Are nonexistent.  Comments can be directed to my mailbox.  See ya
later, folks.

Jake Wallace
impro@sandwich.net