The Stunning Conclusion to the Great American Journeypiece
The Knuckler stared in disbelief at the hole in the dock where the robot, Kevin, had crumbled through, and back up at his ghostly nemisis, who had a similar confused and shocked expression, which quickly twisted into a sneering murmer of delight.
"A secret weapon, eh?" said Mr. Mustachete hautily, flipping his jacket off and approaching The Knuckler. "I'm afraid a bumbling robot is just as ineffective as your two bumbling side kicks!", he mocked, and then twittered a bit via a laugh.
Itches and Smokestack looked up from the background, which was now smeared with zombie goo.
"Look's like th' boss needs aw help, Smokes! Let's jam!" announced Itches, and the two ventured forth to the ghostly villian.
Suddenly, without nary a warning, Kevin the robot made like a volcano and erupted from the salty depths of the briney deep, and clocked Mr. Mustachete a good one right in the ol' cerebral cortex container with his trusty paintcan.
"What a paint-can!" Itches bubbled, and watched in amazment as the peculiar battle between ghost and robot began. Another blow from the can knocked Mr. Mustachete down, who flexed his upper lip muscles, which caused his mustache to spring to life in a machete-like fashion. However, this truly spectacular and hairy weapon, which took three lifetimes to master, became useless with another conk on the bonker.
In a rather brutal manner, Kevin bludgeoned and struck and pounded and clobbered Mr. Mustachete with his mystical paintcan, who slowly began fading from existance.
All the while, The Knuckler watched; watching his fight being fought for him, watching as a powerful reputation passed him by, watching as an actual ghost cried out with gibberish-filled cries of pain. And then, it was done.
Smokestack took off his hat, clutching it in his meathooks as though the wind were pulling at it wildly though there was just a slight breeze, and Itches looked away. Kevin the robot, heaving for dramatic effect only, straightend up gave everyone a look, and left.
The Knuckler walked past the hole in the pier, and the spot where his archnemisis had faded away, and up to his two faithful commrads.
"Boys," he said, and then paused. "Whaddya say we get outta this business?" The duo nodded solemnly, and followed him as he walked off.
"What's d'ya think about a produce stand, eh boss?" piped up Itches.
"Yea, wish grrreensh 'n' fruitsh 'n' fishesh!" boomed Smokestack.
"That, my friends, sounds like a plan."
"A secret weapon, eh?" said Mr. Mustachete hautily, flipping his jacket off and approaching The Knuckler. "I'm afraid a bumbling robot is just as ineffective as your two bumbling side kicks!", he mocked, and then twittered a bit via a laugh.
Itches and Smokestack looked up from the background, which was now smeared with zombie goo.
"Look's like th' boss needs aw help, Smokes! Let's jam!" announced Itches, and the two ventured forth to the ghostly villian.
Suddenly, without nary a warning, Kevin the robot made like a volcano and erupted from the salty depths of the briney deep, and clocked Mr. Mustachete a good one right in the ol' cerebral cortex container with his trusty paintcan.
"What a paint-can!" Itches bubbled, and watched in amazment as the peculiar battle between ghost and robot began. Another blow from the can knocked Mr. Mustachete down, who flexed his upper lip muscles, which caused his mustache to spring to life in a machete-like fashion. However, this truly spectacular and hairy weapon, which took three lifetimes to master, became useless with another conk on the bonker.
In a rather brutal manner, Kevin bludgeoned and struck and pounded and clobbered Mr. Mustachete with his mystical paintcan, who slowly began fading from existance.
All the while, The Knuckler watched; watching his fight being fought for him, watching as a powerful reputation passed him by, watching as an actual ghost cried out with gibberish-filled cries of pain. And then, it was done.
Smokestack took off his hat, clutching it in his meathooks as though the wind were pulling at it wildly though there was just a slight breeze, and Itches looked away. Kevin the robot, heaving for dramatic effect only, straightend up gave everyone a look, and left.
The Knuckler walked past the hole in the pier, and the spot where his archnemisis had faded away, and up to his two faithful commrads.
"Boys," he said, and then paused. "Whaddya say we get outta this business?" The duo nodded solemnly, and followed him as he walked off.
"What's d'ya think about a produce stand, eh boss?" piped up Itches.
"Yea, wish grrreensh 'n' fruitsh 'n' fishesh!" boomed Smokestack.
"That, my friends, sounds like a plan."