CONTROVERSIAL JACK AND THE FALL OF WESTERN CIVILIZATION
               A Fan Art HQ / Spoof Chase Production

                 Part One : I Am Nailed to the Hull
                         by Stefan Gagne

            (Controversial Jack Created by Yves Belanger)
     

WARNING : This fic contains many fine, politically incorrect
          things which probably are in violation of various war
          crimes treaties.  Often, it also has not been edited,
          spellchecked, or even read by the authors prior to
          posting.  Use of intravenous Jolt drips while reading
          is not recommended, but may help the pace feel normal.

          For more information about Controversial Jack, the
          round-robin impromanga that makes acid look like
          aspirin, it would behoove you to examine :

          IMPROMANGA
          http://fanarthq.anime-manga.net/impromanga/

-=-

     There's a tale of the apocalypse that involves four
horsemen.  Stop me if you've heard this one.
     The great and terrible horsemen (or surfers, in various
island cultures) charge across the face of the earth (which
sometimes is flat) bringing fire and chaos (although sometimes
they bring seas of blood) and generally making a large mess
(which sometimes is larger).  Their names are Famine, Pestilence,
War, and Death.  Unless Pestilence is replaced by Pollution or
Plague, his younger and more ambitious brothers.
     Mind you, that's only one example.  There are also tales of
the great Adversary, the son of Satan, who has three sixes on his
head and can make cool latin chanting sound whenever he acts like
Carrie on her prom night.  That one's rather popular.
     There's also various theories of nature simply taking over
and punishing that little bastard called Man that has poisoned
its waters and lands.  And of course the popular idea that we'd
just wipe each other out in a series of nuclear wars, or by
listening to too much Hanson, or simply by getting the flu and
dying, not with a bang, but with a whimper.
     Nowhere in any popular view of the final days of mankind is
there a man named Jack.  Which is a shame, because it means they
all got it wrong.

                              *

     In sunny California, beneath a bright yellow shining orb in
the less tasteful spiral of the galaxy, you can find a large
building with large amounts of food and a large sign marked
'Price Club'.  Sometimes people wheel barrel-sized containers of
things like rice and gummi bears out.
     Inside, it's kept quite clean, and is a very tidy and
organized way to disperse food to people who would starve to
death without it.  It's a pleasant shopping experience.  Usually.
     Today, you can spot empty peanut shells on the ground, and
discarded wrappers.  Toothpicks a plenty are also here and there,
and the occasional empty cereal bowl.  If you follow the trail,
you can see how it meanders here and there, but mostly sticks to
the tables set at the ends of each aisle.  The free sample
tables.
     "More," the man said.
     "Don't you think you've had enough?" the poor supermarket
lady asked, trying to shield her free cheese samples away from
the psychotic madman.
     "This is AMERICA!" the man ranted.  "It's my God given right
to have as much free cheese as I want!  There are surplus
warehouses right now devoted to nothing more than the storage of
cheese.  If that's not a tried and true use of my tax dollars, I
don't know what is.  And you say that I have had enough cheese? 
MY GOD IN HEAVEN, WOMAN!  Nobody will have enough cheese until
all those supplies are depleted!  Then, maybe, we can rest well
at night without tossing in our sleep from the SHEER GUILT!"
     "B-but, this isn't government cheese," she whimpered.  "It's
supermarket cheese."
     "Details, details," Jack shrugged, getting casual for a
moment.  "Fork it over."
     Let's pause a moment here and examine this person.
     It's actually just an optical illusion that one of his eyes
is bigger than the other.  Maybe it's the way he looks at you,
with that constant suspicious glare, or just the funny way his
neck works after years of banging his head against walls.  He's
lanky and lean, but lanky and lean in the way that lanky and lean
guys who really whip ass in fighting games are lanky and lean;
not that he's probably any good in a fight, but few people really
want to make sure.
     His hair, which was probably combed with brillo and dried
under a blowlamp, sticks straight up and out on his head, a wild
and untamed bush of cornstraw.  He's usually smiling, but has
mastered the art of differentiating between a polite smile, an
amused smile, a I Know More Than You smile, and a grinning evil
death smile.  Overall, he resembles some twisted incarnation of
Puck from a VERY off-Broadway production of "Midsummer Night's
Dream."
     His name is Jack Lysias, also known as Controversial Jack. 
And he wanted his cheese.
     "Mr. Duck thinks I should get more cheese," Jack said,
holding out a small rubber duckie for the supermarket lady to
examine.  "Don't you, Mr. Duck?"
     The bath toy squeaked.
     "...that's just a toy," the lady said.
     Jack pulled Mr. Duck back in horror.  "You're hurting his
feelings!  There there, Mr. Duck, she's just ignorant and doesn't
know any better... she doesn't know the wondrous things you have
to say--"
     With a frightened gesture of defeat, the lady shoved the
whole tray of cheese blobs on little sticks forward.  "Here! 
Take as much as you want!"  And she promptly went to the
manager's office, scribbled 'I Quit' on his desk blotter and ran
for the horizon.
     "Woohoo!" Jack cheered, dumping the whole tray into his
giant, economy sized Price Club burlap sack.  "Another fine haul. 
Well!  Let's see what other free things we can get!"
     The next table was offering free long distance service.
     "Why bother?  All the people who live away from me probably
don't exist," Jack rationalized.
     The table after that had Cheesy Poofs, which Jack felt
complimented his preprocessed cheese blobs quite well, and did
the 'Look behind you, a three headed monkey' routine in order to
swipe as many as he could.
     The next table offered free blood tests.  Jack stuck his
hand inside the medical cuff, yelped when the six inch needle
jammed through his arm, and when it came up saying he was drug
free he had to argue with the guy a bit that No, the machine was
not broken and Yes, he always acted like this.  Mr. Duck vouched
for him.
     Given how much protest Controversial Jack's digestive system
was issuing at his consuming approximately 546 free samples in a
one hour period, his next stop was going to be the bathroom.
Unfortunately, he happened to spot something interesting at the
next booth.  But history still had one more chance, as his sister
wheeled into view, driving a large motorized shopping cart that
went 'BEEP' when you backed up.
     "Jack!" Anne Lysias called out, waving to him from behind a
small mountain of shopping bags.  "I think I've got enough food
to last us until the next millennium!"
     "That's only a year or two away, unless there's a massive
conspiracy of calendar makers," Jack said.
     Let's get one thing absolutely straight here -- Anne is not
like Jack.  Sure, they share similar DNA because of the
unfortunate coincidence of having the same mother and father, but
Anne is not insane.  She's actually quite a nice girl provided
you don't make her angry, and never hears rubber ducks talking to
her except once or twice but she denies the experiences quite
wholeheartedly.  Plus, the phrase "I am my brother's keeper"
applies to her in the same way zoo wranglers say things like "I
am the Bengali tiger's keeper."
     "Hey, food for a year is still impressive!" Anne noted,
hopping down from the vehicle and tucking her Price Club hard hat
under one arm.  "Besides, don't you even THINK about complaining. 
I'm the one who's paying for all this, you jobless bum!"
     "I do too have a job!"
     "Oh?  What?" Anne asked before realizing she shouldn't have.
     "I am me, of course," Jack explained.  "The very process of
being who and what I am is a twenty four hour a day job.  You
don't get a break from a responsibility that big, no paid
vacation leave, no dental plan!  You're THERE, constantly, ready
to be Jack at a moment's notice!  I don't have time to go dilly-
dallying around in the so-called Job Market when the vast
resiviors of energy needed to Hell-o, what's this?"
     History gave a sad sigh of regret, as Jack's attention
finally was attracted back to the desk he almost missed.  He
translocated from where he was to in front of the desk and
smiling, not through some arcane power, but simply by moving very
fast.
     "What's the free sample at this table for?" he asked.
     "Free political campaign television advertising," the bored
looking clerk explained.  "Congress mandated that to keep the
playing field equal for all political parties, vouchers could be
secured for paid airtime for candidates to advertise.  If--"
     "Hmmm... lot of perks on that job, right?" Jack asked.
     "What job, sir?"
     "President!!!" Jack said, posing dramatically.  "Why, if I
was president, I'd have free run of the Oval Office... of
Martha's Vineyards... of that secret room BEHIND the Oval
Office... of the War Room... just THINK--"
     "Let's not think, okay?" Anne requested.  "We've got to get
home before the frozen goods melt, and we don't have time for one
of your crazy schemes!"
     "Anne!  I'm shocked!" Jack said.  "Here I uphold the
proudest, bestest institution in these here United States--"
     "We could always send you BACK to the institution," Anne
commented dryly.
     "--and you dare, nay, DARE to consider it a 'crazy scheme'?"
Jack asked.  "Forsooth, sister of mine!  And bite me.  I'm      
a-signing up!"
     Anne sighed in defeat.  "Be out by the car in five minutes
or I'm leaving without you, Jack," she warned.  "And I MEAN it."
     With that, Anne hauled herself back into the forklift, and
steered her groceries on out of there, making wide right turns.
     Jack rubbed his palms together with feverish glee.  "Okay,
pal, I'm sold.  Where do I sign?  Do I need to pay with my soul
or anything?"
     "What is your political party?" the clerk asked, clicking a
cheap Bic retractable to start filling out little checkboxes of
questionable origin.
     "Probably wild and involving a lot of kegs."
     "Pardon?"
     "Just mark me down as controversial," Jack said.  "I've
always said a good politician is an honest one.  Well, no. 
Technically I've always said a good politician is one thrown into
the bay with lead weights tied around its feet.  But you get the
gist of my scope of reasoning."

                              *

     sis. Sis!
     "SIIIIS!!"
     Anne malleted him in basic pavlovian instinct.
     Jack popped back up, the wooden hammer impaled on his spiky
hair.  "It's on, sis!  It's on!!"
     The elder of the two siblings rubbed her eyes, sitting up in
bed.  "Jack.. what is it this time?  Glass of water?  Bedtime
story?  What time'sit..."
     "My ad's on!" Jack said proudly.  "Come on, we can't miss
it!"
     "FOUR AM?!!" Anne gaped, peering into the digital readout of
her clock.  "What are you doing waking me up at four in the
morning?!"
     Jack looked flatly at the camera.
     "I could swear I already answered that," he said.  He shook
it off and shook his head and generally shook, then put an
excruciating vice-like grip on his sister's wrist.  "C'mon c'mon
c'MON!  Let's go!"
     "Wh--" Anne protested, as Jack dragged her into the hall,
down the stairs (thump thump thump) and deposited her on the
living room couch.  In moments, he had a variety of refreshments
ready on a rickety old tray table, and plopped down next to her
with a giant bag of pseudobuttery popcorn.
     He reached out, holding the television remote like the
mighty finger of God, and turned on the 14" screen with rabbit
ears.
     "Jaack.. explicate," Anne demanded.
     "Well, you know that booth I found at the store?" Jack
smiled.
     "Unh.. memory failing at early hour....... okay, now I
remember," Anne nodded.  "What about... oh no.  Jack!  You
DIDN'T--"
     "You'll find out in FIVE!  FOUR!  THREE!  Two!  Oooonee..."
     And on the TV...

[A bootlegged copy of the local elementary school brass band
playing the Liberty Bell March plays in the background, as Jack
poses in front of a glorious sunset, wearing only the American
flag wrapped around his midsection like a diaper.]

ANNOUNCER :    Jack.  A man of integrity.  A man of honesty.  A
               man who looks more buff wearing a diaper than
               Kevin Sorbo.

[Shots of Jack walking around meeting and greeting some
impressionable youths in the neighborhood, all smiles.  One of
them suddenly shows up in a tank and starts chasing him,
demanding the return of a rubber duck.]

ANNOUNCER :    He's just one of us.  A common man.  An every day
               man.  A decent man.  An honest man.  A LADIES'
               MAN!

[Shots of Jack wearing a lei, waving around a refreshing beverage
with a jaunty paper umbrella, and boogieing down at a local strip
club with some topheavy woman at 'the pole.']

ANNOUNCER :    A politician for every season, a man of many
               ideas.

[Jack in front of a herd of microphones labelled CNN, NBC, FOX,
ESPN, TNN, MTV, Nick, and HSC.  All the mikes have been labelled
in identical purple crayon.]

JACK :    I call for an end to bloated, stupid old government! 
          We need change and we need it now!  Balance that
          budget, tote that bail, lift that barge, drop back
          twenty yards and punt!  Let's demolish the House of
          Representatives and erect a gigantic waterslide.  Does
          anybody actually know what they DO in there?  They
          could be holding wild sex orgies for all we know!  And
          if they are, why don't they ever invite us?  Are they
          too GOOD for us?  The American people want to know!!

[A shot of Jack and a small rubber duck, looking offscreen
towards a better tomorrow, the wind blowing their their hair or
lack thereof just so.  Proud men.  And ducks.]

ANNOUNCER :    Jack and Duck, of the Controversial Party.  Why
               pick the LESSER of two evils?

[Iris out.]

     Jack rubbed his chin.
     "I don't know, I thought the artistic content of the second
sequence was entirely too similar to the methods of famous
Russian montage artist Sergei Eisenstein," he said.  "What do you
think?"
     Anne's breathing restored to normal function several moments
later.
     "Are you NUTS?!" she yelled, clobbering Jack with her
assorted refreshments.  "You can't be president!  You can barely
tie your shoes!"
     "Hey, is it my fault that those little knots twist around in
funny ways?" Jack accused, Snacky Cakes sticking in his hair. 
"Blame Euclidian geometry for that, not I!"
     "But YOU....... wait a minute.  Why am I worried?  You won't
get a single vote," Anne realized.  "The chances of you actually
having even a slim possibility of a remote distant hope of ever
becoming president are nonexistent.  You'll just waste time."
     "Not so," Jack explained, holding up a printed flyer.  "I'm
having a press conference tomorrow.  I've invited every student
activist organization I could find at the local university and
called every journalist in a six hundred mile radius!"
     "...on MY phone bill?"
     "Bear with me, sis.  By this time tomorrow, mark my words,
ALL will have heard of Controversial Jack!!  "
     "From the Obituaries page," Anne muttered.
     "Aww, cheer up, sis!" Jack smiled, patting her heartily on
the back.  "What could possibly go wrong?"

                              *

     A ticker tape parade was immediately declared in Jack's
honor.  A 71 piece brass band heralded his coming, led by score
upon score of attractive cheerleaders wearing the Controversial
Party's Official Cheerleader Uniform, which can be made from
dental floss.  Jack himself rode in a 100 foot long stretch limo,
cruising in the built in jacuzzi, soaking in the public's
adoration while Mr. Duck enjoyed the massaging water jets...
     Then the alarm clock rang.
     Jack picked it up, threw it out the (closed) window, and dug
a new one from the endtable drawer for use tomorrow.  True, he
only got an hour of sleep, but he worked with natural energy and
the cosmic flow of the universe and didn't really give a damn
about reality.
     "It's the big day, Mr. Duck!" he said, picking up his fine
non-feathered friend.  "Today, our plan for world domination and
lifetime employment begins!  Actually, it began a few days ago,
but today we'll see the first results."
     Jack brushed, shaved, ran a comb through his hair, spent
five minutes trying to get the comb out, put on his best clip-on
tie and stepped out to meet his public, underneath the
CONTROVERSIAL PARTY KICKS ASS banner he spent the rest of the
night painting.
     There were maybe a dozen people there, not quite sure why
they bothered to show up.  One of them was looting the doughnut
table.  Jack felt offended by that, since he had only looted
those things from Dunkin' Doughnuts not three hours ago and was
hoping to bag a few himself.
     Still, an audience was an audience.  Jack grabbed a handy
blackboard, held it up to the podium microphone and raked his
nails down the surface to get everybody's attention.
     Ignoring any blood shooting from people's ears like a cheap
effect in Mortal Kombat, Jack carried on.
     "GREETINGS!!!" he greeted.  "I am Controversial Jack of the
Controversial Party, and I mean to enslave you all!  This is my
running mate, Mr. Duck, who will give opening statements."
     Jack placed Mr. Duck at the microphone.
     Squeak.
     "Thank you for that eloquent statement about man's crisis to
cope with an evershifting economic future in the first half of
the twenty first century, Mr. Duck!" Jack thanked.  "Now, I'd
like to talk to you all about an issue which is of personal
importance to me... namely, voting.  You should vote for me. 
Well!  That'll do for the speech.  Are there any questions from
the peanut gallery?"
     A hand was nervously raised.
     "Yes, you in the funny looking hat!"
     "I'm not wearing a hat."
     "Details, details!  What's your damn question?"
     "Uh..." the student said, momentarily thrown from the horse
of thought.  "What's your stance on the NAFTA proposal and our
relationship to Mexico?"
     "I think we should just annex the country and have everybody
there make Nike shoes for three cents an hour, because then at
least we'd be honest about how we're handling it," Jack said. 
"Plus that way Walt Disney has more land to dominate and place
large themed attraction parks such as 'The Amazing Paramecium'
and 'Yogurt World'.  I also think we should take over Canada and
make it into a free range chicken ranch.  Are there any other
stupid questions?"
     A few angry titters raised in the audience.  "You can't be
serious," one person said.
     "Ah, but I AM serious!  And don't call me Shirley."
     "I didn't--"
     "All stupid people will be sterilized!" Jack shouted,
banging a fist on the podium.  "Heck, America was doing that back
in the '30s with the Eugenics program anyway.  True fact.  Why
not bring it back?  Then we'll have less stupid kids who shoot
their heads off after listening to heavy metal.  NO!  Strike
that!  I WANT the stupid kids to shoot their heads off.  Then the
problem will solve itself!  MORE subliminal messages on albums
from now on!  And put a Parental Advisory sticker on everything
because all thought is subversive.  Questions!  Gimmie!"
     "Are you on crack?" someone asked.
     "No, but I think it's a great plan for the future of this
country!" Jack said.  "We can have the stupid people find other
stupid people and sell them crack saying that it'll make them
look cool.  Then we can make the 'crack chic' look be popular on
Cosmo and then those people who easily buy into fads will all
drop dead of overdoses!  Like those idiots who walk around
wearing backwards hats and t-shirts and khaki shorts and platform
sandals!  Anybody wearing platform sandals will have their feet
glued to 'Pogo Balls' for the rest of forever, then will be
placed into a Tardis and shipped back to the BEGINNING of forever
just to do it all again!!"
     Jack was enjoying himself.
     If there was one thing he could do, it's piss off a crowd. 
But this wasn't enough.  No, perhaps he had them convinced he was
a madman, but he wasn't an OFFENSIVE madman yet.  Someone would
have to make the foolish mistake of asking about a sensitive
issue, like--
     "What about your stance on gay rights?"
     "A-HA!  I'm glad you brought that up!" Jack smiled widely. 
"We need more right handed gay people!  Let's even out the
imbalance in the pornography industry and make more guy on guy
sex videos, then distribute them to our prison systems!  All
copies of girl on girl porno should be shipped directly to the
Oval Office for preview before they are archived in the Hot
Chicks Room of the Library of Congress.  It will, of course, be
next to the Baby Seal Clubbing room and the Dolphin Meat
Preparation Recipe Storage Chamber."
     Pitchforks and torches started to appear in the crowd.
     This was the first sign that you needed to wrap up your
Inspired Rant and start heading to the closest available exit. 
His work here was done.
     "Thank you everybody, it's been a great morning!  Join me
next time as I detail my plans to pave the earth.  Vote for me or
I'll destroy your first born sons!" he said, grabbing his Duck
and hopping onto the skateboard he had conveniently left by the
podium.
     Various shouts of 'GET HIM!' and 'DEATH!' and the perennial
classic 'DESTROY THE MONSTER!' echoed behind him, as Jack gleamed
the cube right on down the street, cruising his way to freedom.
     "It's gonna be a great campaign, Mr. Duck!" he smiled.  "I
can tell it's going well already!"
     That's when Controversial Jack skated directly into the open
manhole.

                              *

     Contrary to popular belief, there are not large alligators
living in the sewers, or teenaged mutants who kick shell.  Those
are simply rumors spread to prevent the truth from being known.
     All 666 members of the Sunnydale, CA branch of the
Illuminati looked at Jack, who slid out of a nearby sewer pipe
and landed in the middle of the sacrimonial secret meeting
chamber of the world's oldest and most secret secret society.
     Jack rubbed the bump on his head, checked to make sure Mr.
Duck was safe, and looked up at all the dudes in the spanky-ass
fresh red robes.
     "Heya," he greeted.  "Am I in wonderland?"
     "A stranger from the above world comes into our hallowed
hall," a monk said.  "We must destroy him!"
     "DESTROY!"
     "DESTROY!"
     Well, Jack thought, at least life is consistent.
     "Relax!  I'm on your side!" Jack cheered, flashing a V for
Victory!
     The monks paused.
     "How do you know what side we're on?" one asked.
     "I don't, but hey, I'm down with it, whatever it is.  Unless
I'm not.  Hey, you guys got any doughnuts?  Those bastards
stiffed me out of mine."
     The monks conferred.
     "He must be stupid, or so deviously clever that we cannot
penetrate his stupidity," one noted.
     "His eyes have seen what nobody must see : the powers of the
Illuminati.  He should be destroyed."
     "We must find out who this man is.  Perhaps he is important,
in some minor way that non-Illuminati can be important, like
queen ants in an anthill crushed under our mighty red boots."
     "Why are you guys talking about me in the third person?"
Jack asked.
     The monks surrounded Jack.
     "Who are you?" one asked.
     "I am... CONTROVERSIAL JACK!" Jack said, posing against the
rising sun of Japan near the raging sea!  Because that's just
what you do when you're anime-based regardless of where you live. 
"And soon, I will rule the universe!"
     The Illuminati looked vaguely amused by this.
     "How do you plan to do that?"
     Jack told them.
     They had to admit, it sounded interesting.
     "And you actually believe they will allow you to do this?" a
robed monk asked.
     "Hey, is that a dress?" Jack asked.  "I can't abide by a man
wearing a dress unless it's my friend Jane, and even then she's
less of a he than a he that's a she and thus falls under special
case considerations--"
     "The question, Jack..."
     "Oh," Jack said, getting to the point.  "I'm gonna be
elected president.  Then I'm in charge of the fate of the free
world and can have all the fun I want and anybody who disagrees
with me will get thrown into the gulag.  And if there isn't a
gulag I'll just trap them in a room listening to 'Shadowdancing'
by Andy Gib for centuries."
     The Sunnydale, CA Branch of the Illuminati nodded in sync.
     "We will return you to your world, mere mortal," they said. 
"But speak not a word of what you have seen, lest our agents who
are thousandfold hunt you down and tear your tounge out by the
roots."
     "Man, that'd be nasty on my singing voice," Jack admitted.
     A few monks shuttled Jack back upstairs using the secret
underground Illuminati railroad, leaving the others to confer.
     "Well?"
     "He has potential..."
     "He could destroy the world."
     "He could simply make a fool of himself."
     "Unless we act as fate."
     "What do we do?"
     "Consult the Oracle!"
     "Let the Oracle decide!"
     A ritualistic chant that started with 'Dayo' and ended in
'Me wan go home' was begun, as a lesser acolyte presented the
wooden box to the head monk.  He opened it, removing the Sacred
Dart, adjusting the plastic fletchings.. and the Illuminati, and
history at large, held its collective breath.
     The dart flew fast and true, sticking into the Sacred
Dartboard on the 'CHAOS' side rather than the 'ORDER' side.
     "The Oracle has spoken!"

                              *

     That night...
     That night, America sleeps.
     Actually, nothing special happened the next day.  Or for a
few months.  Jack eventually got bored playing candidate and set
about bombing abortion clinic bombers and making himself an
isolated shack in Montana to hold two-nickel poolhall tournament
games.
     The political season carried on, the major two candidates
battling it out as usual.  When Election Day came, nobody noticed
the tiny box near the bottom of the docket.

[] JACK/DUCK, CONTROVERSIAL PARTY.

     Computers recorded the votes, tallying them up, number by
number.  Everything ran like clockwork, ordinary as could be.
     Except...
     Except the next morning, when America woke up, they had a
new president, by a striking 94% of the vote.
     President Jack.

                              *

WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT?

WILL JACK RULE OVER THE COUNTRY WITH AN IRON FIST?  HAS HE
VANISHED INTO THE BACKWOODS OF MONTANA, NEVER TO BE SEEN AGAIN? 
WHERE ARE HIS FRIENDS AND ENEMIES?  IS DEBATABLE JOE REALLY A
MEMBER OF THE ILLUMINATI?  WILL ANNE HAVE A HEART ATTACK WHEN SHE
WATCHES LARRY KING LIVE ONE DAY AND SEES JACK THERE?

That's up to you.

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