In this show there is no fourth wall whatsoever. - George Stavropoulos
[Whatever you're watching this morning, whether it be the news or cartoons, unscrambled cable porn channels--Tony Stark, we're looking at you--or educational documentaries, televangelists or infomercials... you're not watching it anymore. (Those of you who are lazy and get up late? You can catch it on CMM throughout the day as they re-run the footage over and over to get higher ratings.) No, instead, you're being treated to the sight of a podium draped in grey set in front of a black backdrop that has a giant red crab on it.]
[A young man in his mid-20s with his hair slicked back approaches from the side, sporting bright blue slacks and a matching blazer with a white dress shirt and red tie. On one lapel is a special Frodo Lives (In the City!) pin with a gold background and black lettering.]
Is this thing on?
( TO TURN OFF THE TELEVISION, TURN TO PAGE 10. )
( TO SEE WHAT YOU HAVE PLANNED FOR YOUR DAY, TURN TO PAGE 15. )
[He taps the mic a couple times before looking off-screen at something and nodding. Then, clearing his throat, he turns to face the camera and begins to speak.]
Ladies and gentlemen of the City, I come before you today not to monologue and gesture dramatically, telling all about our awesome plans like the villains in a James Bond movie--not that we can see those anymore, thanks a lot, man--but as a compassionate, caring individual who believes in the freedom of every man, woman, and child to enjoy the fantastic creations to which we, as humans, are entitled. I believe that these freedoms have been taken away from us, just like in issue #24 of the 1980's reboot of--
[Someone hisses "twenty-five" from off-screen, and he coughs, interrupting himself, before resuming his spiel.]
It doesn't matter what issue, dear audience at home.
[Shooting a dirty look to the side.]
And Ted. What matters is that our hobbies--nay, our very livelihoods--are endangered by this out-of-control system of fiction introduction. As a nation, we all feel the effects of blockbuster movies costing dozens of millions of dollars to produce barely making it through opening weekend before falling off the face of the planet. We all know what it's like to have our childhoods ripped away from us, never to be visited again. And we all saw what happened to Mintendo's stock the morning after one of their flagship titles was erased from existence.
[Banging a fist on the podium, then snapping his arm out into a crisp-looking pointing gesture, shouting.]
HOW LONG DID FAMILIES EVERYWHERE HAVE TO PUT UP WITH THE BROKEN-HEARTED SOBS OF CHILDREN DEPRIVED OF THE PERSONAL GLORY TO BE FOUND IN DEFEATING THE ELITE FOUR WITH A PERFECT FULL-GAME BATTLE RECORD DURING A NUZLOCKE CHALLENGE? HOW LONG?
[Taking a breather, as well as a dose from his inhaler, and adjusting his tie. Eventually:]
...And all the problems they've caused by blowing buildings up while fighting each other and stuff like that really suck, too.
Anyway, It is because of this wanton fandom and Citywide destruction that, we, the Crabhammers, are taking a stand against that tyrannical beast which has caused this world to fall into a +3 Pit of Unending Chaos and Grief. Today, we march on that, uh... stupid... machine-y thing...
["Porter!"]
PORTER! And today, we will reach the Best Ending, which in layman's terms is getting her to send everyone home and never bring anyone else again, so we can enjoy old episodes of Transformers and trade merchandise in Canada in peace.
Or there's the Good Ending, which is okay, too, but that one mostly just involves us breaking the machine so she can't bring in anyone else. That'd keep everybody already here in the City, though. I think.
[To the side again.]
Ted. Hey, Ted! Yeah. Hey, did the R&D team ever get a definitive answer on that one? No? Not yet? Damn.
[Turning back to the camera.]
Well, we're pretty sure, anyway. I mean, that seems likely, considering she's the one that brings them in and all. Whatever! The point is, Peter Jackson could make new movies, with even better CGI this time, and maybe cast someone better than Orlando Bloom, because if I have to hear my loser kid sister's endless confessions of love to that poster on her wall all over again I'm gonna skip Ticketmaster and just be first in line to volunteer for a hegh'bat, is all I'm saying. And nobody would have to worry about them going away.
[Thoughtful.]
...We also came up with a Bad Ending, and I was gonna read it out loud, but now that I think about it I'm pretty sure hearing it would probably give some kind of bonus to the enemy's morale stats and reduce ours, so I'm just gonna skip that one.
Imports! The Crabhammers have judged you before a jury of ourselves and found you guilty of copyright infringement, identity theft, murder in every degree, destruction of public property...
[Checking his watch.]
...And like, a whole bunch of other stuff, but this speech is coming really close to the wire, here, and we have a schedule to keep to, so just assume that you're in trouble for all the bad stuff you've done, because we're gonna sentence your asses to sudden, instant, and even immediate death. It'll save time.
[Checking his watch once more.]
It's 7:30, troops! CHARGE!
[And after that final dramatic and oh-so-familiar point, he walks off with his head held high, the feed oh-so-slowly fading to black with very recognizable strains of music playing in the background. All stations are shortly returned to their previously-scheduled broadcasting.]
[A young man in his mid-20s with his hair slicked back approaches from the side, sporting bright blue slacks and a matching blazer with a white dress shirt and red tie. On one lapel is a special Frodo Lives (In the City!) pin with a gold background and black lettering.]
Is this thing on?
( TO TURN OFF THE TELEVISION, TURN TO PAGE 10. )
( TO SEE WHAT YOU HAVE PLANNED FOR YOUR DAY, TURN TO PAGE 15. )
[He taps the mic a couple times before looking off-screen at something and nodding. Then, clearing his throat, he turns to face the camera and begins to speak.]
Ladies and gentlemen of the City, I come before you today not to monologue and gesture dramatically, telling all about our awesome plans like the villains in a James Bond movie--not that we can see those anymore, thanks a lot, man--but as a compassionate, caring individual who believes in the freedom of every man, woman, and child to enjoy the fantastic creations to which we, as humans, are entitled. I believe that these freedoms have been taken away from us, just like in issue #24 of the 1980's reboot of--
[Someone hisses "twenty-five" from off-screen, and he coughs, interrupting himself, before resuming his spiel.]
It doesn't matter what issue, dear audience at home.
[Shooting a dirty look to the side.]
And Ted. What matters is that our hobbies--nay, our very livelihoods--are endangered by this out-of-control system of fiction introduction. As a nation, we all feel the effects of blockbuster movies costing dozens of millions of dollars to produce barely making it through opening weekend before falling off the face of the planet. We all know what it's like to have our childhoods ripped away from us, never to be visited again. And we all saw what happened to Mintendo's stock the morning after one of their flagship titles was erased from existence.
[Banging a fist on the podium, then snapping his arm out into a crisp-looking pointing gesture, shouting.]
HOW LONG DID FAMILIES EVERYWHERE HAVE TO PUT UP WITH THE BROKEN-HEARTED SOBS OF CHILDREN DEPRIVED OF THE PERSONAL GLORY TO BE FOUND IN DEFEATING THE ELITE FOUR WITH A PERFECT FULL-GAME BATTLE RECORD DURING A NUZLOCKE CHALLENGE? HOW LONG?
[Taking a breather, as well as a dose from his inhaler, and adjusting his tie. Eventually:]
...And all the problems they've caused by blowing buildings up while fighting each other and stuff like that really suck, too.
Anyway, It is because of this wanton fandom and Citywide destruction that, we, the Crabhammers, are taking a stand against that tyrannical beast which has caused this world to fall into a +3 Pit of Unending Chaos and Grief. Today, we march on that, uh... stupid... machine-y thing...
["Porter!"]
PORTER! And today, we will reach the Best Ending, which in layman's terms is getting her to send everyone home and never bring anyone else again, so we can enjoy old episodes of Transformers and trade merchandise in Canada in peace.
Or there's the Good Ending, which is okay, too, but that one mostly just involves us breaking the machine so she can't bring in anyone else. That'd keep everybody already here in the City, though. I think.
[To the side again.]
Ted. Hey, Ted! Yeah. Hey, did the R&D team ever get a definitive answer on that one? No? Not yet? Damn.
[Turning back to the camera.]
Well, we're pretty sure, anyway. I mean, that seems likely, considering she's the one that brings them in and all. Whatever! The point is, Peter Jackson could make new movies, with even better CGI this time, and maybe cast someone better than Orlando Bloom, because if I have to hear my loser kid sister's endless confessions of love to that poster on her wall all over again I'm gonna skip Ticketmaster and just be first in line to volunteer for a hegh'bat, is all I'm saying. And nobody would have to worry about them going away.
[Thoughtful.]
...We also came up with a Bad Ending, and I was gonna read it out loud, but now that I think about it I'm pretty sure hearing it would probably give some kind of bonus to the enemy's morale stats and reduce ours, so I'm just gonna skip that one.
Imports! The Crabhammers have judged you before a jury of ourselves and found you guilty of copyright infringement, identity theft, murder in every degree, destruction of public property...
[Checking his watch.]
...And like, a whole bunch of other stuff, but this speech is coming really close to the wire, here, and we have a schedule to keep to, so just assume that you're in trouble for all the bad stuff you've done, because we're gonna sentence your asses to sudden, instant, and even immediate death. It'll save time.
[Checking his watch once more.]
It's 7:30, troops! CHARGE!
[And after that final dramatic and oh-so-familiar point, he walks off with his head held high, the feed oh-so-slowly fading to black with very recognizable strains of music playing in the background. All stations are shortly returned to their previously-scheduled broadcasting.]