Flash Ahhhh!: Episode Twenty-One – Takanakakaka-ka-ka-kaboom

by the According To Whim .com crew

(Part One by Nathan Stout)


CHRIS: A little to the left. Ah, there. That’s good.

(One of Quincy’s henchmen adjusts the piece of cold steak on Chris’s eye. Chris can’t do it himself, because he is tied up. Quincy sits across from Chris, under a large umbrella, at a rather nice set of patio furniture.)

QUINCY: You see, Mr. McGinty; I am not a cruel man. I believe in being civilized.

CHRIS: Do you mind?

(Chris nods to the Mr. Peppers sitting in front of him. The henchman moves the straw to Chris’s lips, and he drinks greedily from it.)

CHRIS: Very nice.

QUINCY: As soon as my men fix the wiring to the audio system, I will have my fun. I can only imagine what thousands of panes of glass sound like when crashing simultaneously.

CHRIS: Yeah, great. Siiiiiip.


(Nathan is looking at the hangman diagram, the foot still the only thing drawn in, most of the letters of the word filled in correctly.)

NATHAN: Hummmm.

OLE PILLOWCASE HEAD: You are very good at this.

NATHAN: It’s amazing what you can accomplish when bodily harm is on the table.

OLE PILLOWCASE HEAD: Two more letters.

NATHAN: Ahhhh, let’s see now… B_ACK_ACK.

OLE PILLOWCASE HEAD: Think hard now.

NATHAN: I am stumped. I just don’t know.

OLE PILLOWCASE HEAD: Oh come on! It’s as plain as the nose on my face.

(Nathan looks at the pillowcase.)


NATHAN: OK, how about a…

(Suddenly, someone opens a bay door and light floods in. There are voices.)

OLE PILLOWCASE HEAD: Crap! Quick boys, leave him. Let’s go.

(He turns back to Nathan, and assumes a threatening stance.)

OLE PILLOWCASE HEAD: I haven’t finished with you, cheapskate!

(Nathan notices that when he gestures in that threatening way, his fingers appear to be very short. Something deep in Nathan’s cortex twitches at this, but is unable to pull anything from memory. The bad guys leave, and Nathan waits before calling out.)

NATHAN: Hey! I’m over here! Help!

VOICE: This is private property!

NATHAN: Oh shoot.

VOICE #2: Now, now, this may be just what we are looking for.

(There is a squeaking, and then around the corner rolls the Professor, followed by a couple of redneck clones from several episodes back.)

PROFESSOR: Ah, Nathan. Join us.

NATHAN: Oh shoot.

VOICE #3: Professor?

PROFESSOR: Over here.

PAUL: Oh, there you are… oh my.

NATHAN: Oh shoot.


CHRIS: I’m gonna shoot!

(Chris, having gotten free from his captors when he claimed to need to pee after his sixth Mr. Peppers, ran to the Daytona and grabbed the bazooka. He points it at the DJ booth.)

QUINCY: You dunder heads. I told you not to loose his bonds. He stores that stuff like a camel. Duck!

(Chris shoots the bazooka at the DJ booth, and the shot zigs and zags… right over the booth, and right into the According To Whim Headquarters.)

CHRIS: Oops.

(With thunderous explosions that only Hollyweird could come up with, the building goes up in cinematic glory, each floor exploding out in fiery balls of… fire. As if each window was packed with enough C-4 to keep Roland Emmeric happy for ten minutes. Nathan must have had barrels and barrels of gasoline lining each floor just on the other side of the glass cause that’s what it looked like.)

CHRIS: So that’s what he did with the rest of the loan money. I wondered why this venture took twice as much money as was budgeted.

QUINCY: No! No! No! No!

(Quincy is hopping mad.)

QUINCY: You couldn’t see any breaking glass cause of the fire! Nooooooooo!

(Quincy falls to his knees, Platoon style. Chris runs up in front of him.)

CHRIS: This is for making me do this.

(Chris swings his leg back and kicks the kneeling Quincy in the balls so hard he choked on them. Chris runs off, hoping no one saw him blow up Nathan’s business.)

(End of Part One)

(Part Two by Chris McGinty)

“What happened here?” asked Dorothy.

Quincy looked up from his sobbing, and saw a young girl in a blue dress. Behind her were The Village People. As he wiped the tears from his eyes, he saw that it was actually a scarecrow, a tin man, and a lion. And her little dog too

“That long haired bastard, Chris, blew the hell out of the building in such a way that I was unable to hear or see any glass shattering at all,” Quincy said, and might I add, rather pathetically whiny.

“What about the wizard?” asked Dorothy.

It was then that a frail old man, who was probably not all that frail before the explosions, crawled up to them.

“The Wizard of Ahhhhs!” said the Scarecrow.

“My time is done with now. I had a good run,” said the wizard.

“Can you grant one more thing before you pass on?” asked Dorothy.

“As long as it has nothing to do with fixing the continuity of this story,” said the wizard.

“Can you give me super speed, so I can catch that long haired bastard, Chris, and avenge your death?”


NATHAN: I thought it was day.

PAUL: We noticed.

NATHAN: Don’t speak to me, Paul. We were comrades, cronies even, and you bailed on me the moment the professor…

PAUL: Excuse me a moment, Nathan, my phone is ringing. Hello? Oh, Angelina, baby. Yeah, I know. It’s been a whole twenty minutes since we last talked on the phone, and I missed you terribly too.

NATHAN: Not to mention the part where your little girlfriend is working against…

PROFESSOR: If I could interrupt you, Dr. Phil.

NATHAN: Suck my McGraw, asshole.

PROFESSOR: You’re not very pleasant anymore, Nathan.

NATHAN: My foot is facing the wrong direction. Name one person in all of history who has ever been pleasant when their foot was facing in the wrong direction.

PROFESSOR: And so you waste an opportunity to be a trendsetter. Agent Two, will you assist our guest.

(Agent Two approaches Nathan. He grabs Nathan’s foot and lifts it, straightening out his leg. Nathan is pretty sure that he will never feel a worse pain in all of his life. Then Agent Two twists his foot to set it, proving Nathan wrong. Then just as Nathan feels he might die of shock, the foot starts to feel gradually better.)

NATHAN: You’re a healer.

AGENT TWO: Yes, I am. All better.

(Nathan punches Agent Two in the face.)

AGENT TWO: What the hell did you do that for?

NATHAN: I figured you could heal it, and I needed to vent a little.

Chris was running faster than humanly possible, using his superhuman power. He was on his way to Hangman’s House of Horrors. He figured that Nathan was surely in some sort of trouble by now, and if he could save him, he might be more forgiving about the According To Whim HQ.

It was then that Chris noticed that the text was not in script form.

“What the hell?” Chris asked aloud, but he had no real time to contemplate the answer, as he was tacked to the ground.

Chris had no time to consider who might have tackled him before he was tied up, and staring helplessly up at Dorothy.

“You killed the wizard,” said Dorothy.

“You killed Judy Garland,” said Chris, “sounds like we’re even.”

Dorothy called Quincy via cell phone, and told him where they were.


NATHAN: What are we waiting on again?

PROFESSOR: I just told you three times.

NATHAN: I know, but until you get a TV in this van, you’re the only entertainment I’ve got.

PROFESSOR: We’re waiting on Quincy, who managed to capture Chris, let Chris escape, and then captured Chris again. He’s bringing Chris here so that we can rid you both of your powers once and for all, so that you quit getting in the way of our plans.

PAUL: Angelina figures we should just kill you.

PROFESSOR: We’re not thugs, Paul.

PAUL: Angelina’s not a thug. She’s a ruthless hit woman.

PROFESSOR: Do I look like a ruthless hit woman, Paul?


PROFESSOR: Then we do things my way until the answer is yes.

NATHAN: You didn’t ask me.

AGENT ONE: Professor, Quincy is here.

(Everyone piles out of the van. Nathan is tied up, but not blindfolded. He sees everyone piling out of Quincy’s van, including Chris, who is also tied up.)

PROFESSOR: Welcome back, Quincy. Where is the young lady who captured Chris, so I can thank her?

QUINCY: We dropped her off with her friends, so we can talk normally.

(They place Chris and Nathan side by side, facing away from the destroyed building that Nathan has yet to notice.)

NATHAN: Why are we having so much trouble defeating all of these freaks?

CHRIS: Be positive, Nathan. The real question is why they are having so much trouble defeating us.


PROFESSOR: May I have your attention?

CHRIS: I’ve learned that when it comes to getting attention, it’s better to just…


CHRIS: But… but.. Wahhhhhh! I wanna expound my theory on attention seeking. Waaaahhhhhh!

PROFESSOR: Ok, fine. Just hurry up.

CHRIS: Nope. Don’t care anymore.

PROFESSOR: But you just said you…

(Nathan rolls his eyes, as this goes on for the next few minutes. Finally, Quincy puts a stop to it with four little words.)

QUINCY: Nathan, look behind you.

(Nathan looks. Then Nathan looks back.)

NATHAN: That doesn’t look like your handiwork, Quincy.

QUINCY: That’s because Chris did that. He shot a bazooka at it.

NATHAN: Chris, is this true?

CHRIS: Nathan, nothing happened that wouldn’t have happened but for the fact that we have a Democrat in office.

NATHAN: Fair enough.

CHRIS: I know how to talk to him.

NATHAN: You should note that I’m only forgiving you at the moment, because you’re the only person around here who has an interest in rescuing me.

(As all of this has been going on Agent One, Agent Two, and Agent Three, along with Quincy’s people, have been setting up some sort of device.)

PROFESSOR: What we have here is a device created by Angelina…

PAUL: Awww. She’s such a cute little inventor.

(Everyone looks at Paul. Nathan rolls his eyes again.)

PROFESSOR: The device will remove your powers, and alter your metabolism, so that you will never have your powers again.

CHRIS: And what will this gain you?

PROFESSOR: We will be able to carry out our evil plans without the two of you interfering.

CHRIS: That’s kind of overrated, don’t you think? What other reason you got?

PROFESSOR: I don’t have time for your antics now, Chris.

AGENT THREE: Actually, you do, professor. The device takes fifteen minutes to warm up.

CHRIS: Great! Read us a bedtime story.

NATHAN: That doesn’t happen in this story, Chris.

CHRIS: Lame.

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