Chapter 16: If I wasn’t such an evil, evil man… Cheese Cheese

  1. Chapter 15: Don’t Be a PRICK
  2. RAC Challenge!
  3. Chapter 17: MEMOREX

If I wasn't such an evil, evil man, I'd give a short a pithy title that could easily be fit into the dialogue. But I am evil, and therefore any title I'd select must be fit to that evil. And also, it must mention cheese. Twice. Definitely has to mention cheese twice.

“You act like this sort of thing happens all of the time!”
“Well, it’s does.”
—Opal and Bobby in a way past issue of the X-Men

“Doh!”—Homer J. Simpson

The black leather jacketed and heavily spiked Matthew Rossi III stood in front of his computer, a triumphant smile on his face. As he stepped closer to his console there was a slight crunching sound from the shattered fourth wall that lay at his feet. [THAT’LL TEACH THEM TO MESS WITH ME.]

On his computer screen was the recently updated Writer Roster. Rossi looked to the name beneath his own and grimaced. [OH NO,] he thought, [SOMEONE PUT THREE OMEGA WRITERS IN A ROW!]

Oh yes, Matt.

A steel pen arched through the air. Before Matt could react it struck his hard drive. There was a brilliant pyrotechnic display as the computer exploded into several billion pieces.

The pen is mightier than the disk.

Matt whirled and glared at the figure. [POET,] he muttered.

Standing before Matt was the new writer of the RACC Challenge. Wayne E Parillo AKA Poet was smiling. He was not dressed nearly as spectacular (or sinisterly) as the former writer: A white shirt with a red power tie, jean shorts, and tiva’ sandals.

Matt, you’ve got to learn to relax. Although, since this is Providence as opposed to Old Providence I can see why you’re uptight.

Poet blinked.

Matt grimaced.


Matt, I blinked. I may be a temporary God, but I still get dust in my eye. Poet frowned. This is worse than I previously thought.

Poet put his hand on Matt’s shoulder in a sympathetic way.


Matt, it’s time to go on a trip.


Poet smiled and in a flash of light they disappeared.

OK, I’ll start using the other three walls

Mary Lu peered out from beneath the dumpster. She could see Armington’s body strewn about. This is bad, she decided. Maybe I should come out? She waited. She seemed to remember a spiked man causing a tremendous amount of chaos. However, a block seemed to have been placed in her mind.

Footsteps echoed closer to Mary Lu and her hiding place. She couldn’t see anyone and her heart began to race. Unfortunately, her once ultimate mind was slowing down. “I can’t remember!” she whispered through quivering lips.

The footsteps sounded further away. Finally, they vanished altogether.

Mary Lu peered out from beneath the dumpster. She could see Armington’s body strewn about. Why am I here? she wondered. Mary Lu crawled out from beneath a dumpster.

4th wall

“Oh-kay, that’s tu ‘waffle waffles. A chawklet, an a ‘nella.” The Newport Dairy Creamery waitress smiled as she put the two drinks down. If she knew who she was serving perhaps she would not have smiled.

[Cranston?!] Matt asked in disbelief. [All the places to transport us and you pick Cranston?!]

I haven’t been here since Christmas and I missed the accents. Plus the fraps are pretty good.

Matt was still in his spiked leather jacket (sans the featureless mask) and Poet was still in his normal attire.

Matt frowned. [They’re not fraps. They’re Awful-Awful.]

Yes, Poet began, they’re the Ulti—

[Don’t even say it,] Matt growled. [My voice. What happened to my voice?!]

I’m in charge now. I just took you along to make sure you don’t figure out a way to cause more damage. You have too much creative energy on most days. It can be dangerous.

[Wait until the story comes back my way. You think what happened to Chad was bad…]

Poet took out a small black object.

[What’s that?] Matt asked, almost afraid to put his question into words.

The Ultimate Remote. (Couldn’t resist) Poet pushed a button marked “play.” After running through the entire collection of well-written and brilliant Voyeur archive at eyrie the story continued.

3rd wall

Dirk was cold. Very very cold. Unfortunately he was getting colder by the minute. He tried to force his eyes open. I’m a hero dammit. I have Ultimate Powers! He slowly began to move his arms in small circles. It was then that he noticed the Ultimate Twins.

“Wandering walruses! I wonder if this is a dream?” Dirk took the opportunity to look down. He noticed a smaller than usual budge in his spandex. Alarm quickly spread across his face. “Miniscule manhood! It isn’t a dream! That would never happen in a dream!”

Just then Dirk remembered something. “Form of a beaver,” he said. His costume transformed into a giant beaver and for a moment the cold did not bother Dirk in the least bit. Unfortunately, he had absolutely no experience at handling a giant beaver . The water engulfed him and Dirk began to sink.

Rex Reeves, The Pen-Ultimate man flew in low over the Arctic water. “I don’t know how Spurgo knew where they were. But there are Tito and Tina.” Rex used the Ultimate Distance Vision. Is that a giant beaver?

Rex flew in for a closer look.

It’s not every day that a man can say he was drowned in a giant beaver. Dirk resisted (as did the author) to make several perverted and tasteless jokes. Ok, enough is enough.

“Duck-man!” Unfortunately, Dirk turned into Duck Man. Since Duck Man is a cartoon character Dirk found himself relatively at peace in the water. Plus, he could now talk without a problem.

“Holy large lawsuit! Paragon! Make me Paragon.”

And fifteen feet underwater Paragon The Ultimate Man reappeared.

Rex Reeves watched the giant beaver turn into a cartoon character and then into Paragon. “Boss,” he said into his wrist communicator, “you’re not going to believe this.”


As we all know BONK is the sound that is made when flying people run into invisible objects. SPLASH!

As we all know SPLASH is the sound that is made when the flying person falls unconscious into the water.

Paragon reached the surface of the water. The continued morphing had given him a rush of adrenaline. He popped up between the unconscious twins. How do they float? he wondered.

There was a loud splash. “Rex Reeves, The Pen-Ultimate Man?” he said, stunned.

Just then a massive shadow fell on Paragon from the ship that had uncloaked directly above him.

“Why is there a spaceship above me?” Paragon muttered. He blacked out.

“This could be the Ultimate Failure,” Ernie said. Ernie, the last member of the Collective, struggled with the micro-circuitry of the chamber in front of him. Originally, the plan was that all of the energy of the Collective would be placed into a new Ultimate Marble and a new Ultimate Man would be selected. A person who exemplified the ideals of the Collective, a person who would honor them by holding to their virtues.

Fortunately, Ernie’s cool head prevailed. Why restructure everything when they had the answer right in front of them? Although, it was now only Ernie.

The last touched a micro-circuitry were completed. The music rose dramatically as Ernie pressed a button.

4th wall

Matt was busy finishing off his sixth Awful-Awful. After the second drink his head had become entirely numb. The four after had been so simple. He glanced over at Poet.

Poet was staring off into space.


Four hours again. That’s why I haven’t finished ‘Mega. Poet smiled as he spoke.

[Sure,] Matt replied between sips of his drink.

Poet opened his mouth to say something. He decided better of it and did not say a word.

[So, what are you doing next?]

I regret to inform you of something, Matt.


Poet smiled. You’re powerless.

Matt blinked.

Nothing happened to the universe. [Oh no,] he said.

Poet stared at Matt for a second. Newt.

Matt Rossi III was turned into a newt.

Just then the waitress walked over. “You don’t have to pay,” she said.

“I love this,” Poet said aloud with a smile.

He pressed a button on the Ultimate Remote and disappeared. Matt Rossi III now in newt disguise form was left on the chair in the Newport Creamery.

3rd wall


Paragon did not stir.

“Dirk!” someone repeated.

Paragon slowly opened his eyes. He felt as if someone was pounding several large drums inside his cerebrum.

“Better,” the voice said.

Paragon slowly looked around the room. He was in the middle of a totally bare room. In the background he heard a hizz sound. Suddenly, standing before Paragon was a man.

The man wore red pajamas. Actually, the pajamas included a hood which effectively covered the man’s face. There was a large gattling type cannon attached to his forearm (á la Azrael) and two katanas were strapped to his back.

Paragon got to his knees.

“Better to die on your back then on your knees,” the man said. His voice was laced with obnoxiousness.

“Who the hell are you?”

“What? My reputation does not proceed me in this backwater dimension? The name’s Assassin—Obnoxious Assassin.” OA bowed dramatically.

Paragon stood up. He gradually stretched his arms upward. “I suppose this is where we have the obligatory fight and I end up wiping the floor with your face.” Paragon cracked his knuckles.

“Actually,” OA said as he took a small device from an inner pocket, “I read you as powerless.” He held the device up for Paragon to see—it was a bottle of white-out.

Paragon tilted his head slightly. “A bottle of white-out? Are you serious?”

OA closed his hand around the white-out. Then he punched Paragon square in the nose. Paragon fell with a loud thud. “I can’t believe you fell for that.”

I can’t believe I fell for that either, Paragon thought. He stood up again. He gingerly reached his hand to his face. It came away with blood.

“Don’t worry. It’s not like you’re good looking or anything. A matter of fact you’re so ugly that Swordmaster could get a date be—”

“AAArrrrgggghhhhh!!!” Paragon screamed. I need a battle-cry, he thought. He rushed forward.

Obnoxious Assassin effortlessly flipped the hero across the room. Paragon landed on his back with a loud THUD.

“Would you like to try that scenario again?” OA asked.

As Paragon was flat on his back, a bright light filled the room. Paragon realized that someone had opened a door. CLICK-CLICK-CLICK.

I don’t want to know what those clicks were, Paragon thought. He stood up.

“Sweet sizzling spuds!” he cried. Standing next to Obnoxious Assassin was Doctor Malevo. Standing next to Doctor Malevo was a man dressed in bright green. Paragon avoided his eyes.

4th wall

Poet was staring at Jerry Franke’s web-page. I’d hate to think that I don’t leave the next writer with some sort of dangler.

Poet thought aloud, I gotta come up with something—What’s this? Splurgo, huh.

3rd wall

“I see that you’re powerless,” Doctor Malevo said. Paragon’s enemy boldly walked forward. The man was dressed all in silver and a large red cape flowed behind him.

“Glad to see that you’ve moved up in the world,” Paragon said. “Is that conquering attire?”

“Your wit never fails in my presence. OA, insult this heathen.” Malevo turned his back on the hero, privately hoping that no one would notice his lack of verbal abilities.

“Paragon, face it. You only have three things going against you. One, you’ve lost your cosmic super-powers. Two, you’re uglier than Malevo’s mom. Three, you’re degree is in journalism.”

Paragon winced at the third insult. “What happened to my powers?”

“If I wasn’t such an evil, evil man, I’d give a short and pithy title that could easily be fit into the dialogue. But I am evil, and therefore any title I’d select must be fit to that evil. And also, it must mention cheese. Twice. Definitely has to mention cheese twice.”

Everybody stared at the man in bright green.

“Excuse me. Who are you?” Paragon asked.

“I,” the man in bright green said as he pointed his thumb at his chest, “am Pesto Pontificiation Parmesian.”

“PPP?” OA asked. “Man, this is too easy.”

“Shut up,” Malevo said as he wheeled around. “Enough time has been give to you two. I am the focal point of this. Not you two.” He glared at his two henchmen.

“Malevo, I hate to tell you this. But you’re dead.”

“Rating, my dear boy. Ratings.” Malevo smiled evilly.

4th wall

That’s right. Rossi was stripped of his power, and the result is that Paragon lost his.

3rd wall

“Welcome to PPP Productions! In association with Malevo Enterprises. I’m your MC, Mr. Pesto Pontificiation Parmesian. We’re happy to bring you the gallery event of the century!”

Pesto was standing in the middle of a room. There was a huge picture window directly in front of him and he smiled. Five cameras—shaped like small baseballs—flew around filming Pesto from different directions.

There was a loud hizz and a bright flash. Now, beside PPP, were three other people. Obnoxious Assassin, the black clad Dr. Malevo, and a large green barrel.

“How about that!” PPP stated, gesturing toward the green barrel.

Just then Paragon popped his head out. There was a small metallic device attached to his neck.

Dr. Malevo stepped forward and took out a small box. PPP gestured grandly.

“The wonderful ratings box which we’ve hooked everyone who has ordered this special Pay Per View program will allow you the payee to bid for the particularly violent action that will occur to Paragon.”

Paragon blinked in disbelief. He struggled helplessly in the barrel. Obnoxious Assassin had managed to chain him tightly. Then the Assassin had welded the chain to the side of the barrel. His cosmic power having mysteriously waned Paragon felt his body beginning to stiffen inside the metallic coffin. This sucks, he decided.

“Ok, let’s start the bidding at $200,000 dollars!” PPP smiled at the camera.

After thirty seconds Dr. Malevo grinned wickedly. “A million dollars. Bring in the cement mixer!”

A door opened up and a former Dynamax Agent (they were all now employed by PPP & Malevo) backed in a cement truck.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Paragon muttered. He struggled to no avail inside the barrel.

Obnoxious Assassin and the former Agent poured cement into the barrel. They filled it up to Paragon’s neck. Paragon gasped.

“Come off it!” Paragon said. The concrete began to harden around him. The cameras zoomed in on Paragon.

“Great!” PPP said. “We’re bringing in funds as we speak. Be the person who the capping of the barrel is dedicated to! Remember, we check your Swiss funds before we announce your name.” He waved his finger in a “tsk-tsk-tsk” manner at the camera.

Dr. Malevo sidled next to Obnoxious Assassin. “How much are we bringing in?” Malevo asked.

“Well, these stupid idiots paid a couple-hundred of thousand each for the illegal feed. Plus this bidding war. What is it with this universe? You don’t have much entertainment in this place. No Platypus Man. No Wings. Heck, the Simpsons are real. That alone is warped enough to teleport home.”

“You must give me that technology,” Dr. Malevo said. He was watching the bidding war escalate.

“Yeah, right,” OA muttered. He walked away to go check on some explosives.

“Well,” PPP said. “The sponsor of the covering is the villain Franke. All hail Franke!”

Minutes later Paragon was in the darkness.

What he did not know that the barrel was now lined with explosives. There were also two homing devices on the barrel. And everything was linked through the device on Paragon’s neck. The really annoying part was he was chained up, welded to the side of a barrel, and surrounded in concrete.

“This sucks,” Paragon whispered, ignoring the fact that his oxygen was running out. “I wonder where the Ultimate Twins are? I could really use a dramatic save right now.”

Tito and Tina were encased in ice. Definitely not in a position to save anyone. Rex Reeves, The Penultimate Man struggled with the class 10 headache. “What happened?” he wondered aloud. “Why am I half-frozen?”

Rex Reeves was bobbing in the ocean. The lower half of his body encased in ice. “Why can’t I remember anything?” He looked around. “Where am I?” he paused. He blinked. “Whoa, for a minute there I thought I was going to have amnesia. What a revolting development that would have been.”

The Penultimate Man rose from the ocean and flexed the muscles in his legs. The ice shattered. He looked down. “Well, at least I’ll give the Spurgenator something.”

Moments later he flew off with the two frozen Ultimate Kids.

“Ok,” PPP began, “the bids are in!” He stood at the now open window. The barrel with Paragon inside rested precariously on the edge. PPP was resting his foot on hit. “We’ve trapped the Ultimate Idiot in this lovely metal coffin. We’ve checked out all of the funds and everything’s okey-dokey. If you look at your special vital reader,” he took a small device from his pocket and looked at it. “Then you’ll notice that Paragon will be conscious for his death. The small microphone that we installed on his neck will pick up his screams of agony.

Microphone? Paragon thought. Unfortunately, Obnoxious Assassin had given him an earphone before the lid had been welded shut.

“Hello?” Paragon asked. His own voice boomed in his ear.

“Well, the Ultimate Imbecile speaks.” It was Obnoxious Assassin. “Nice to know that you’re going to be aware of your impending doom.”

“Hobbling hedgehogs,” Paragon muttered. “I’m going to be nationally suffocated at the bottom of an ocean!”

“Nope,” OA replied. “We’re going to blow you up before you hit bottom. Have a nice day.”

This is ridiculous, Paragon thought.

“Buh-bye!” PPP said. He pushed the barrel off the edge.


I’m going to die, Paragon thought. He felt his head becoming light.

PPP watched the life-signs on the monitor. “Ok, kiddies. The pushing of the missiles is dedicated to someone named ‘Newt.’” He stared out the window. “Nah, you don’t think…”

Obnoxious Assassin walked up to Doctor Malevo. “I can’t believe you let this arrogant jack-ass take over the storyline. I thought you were the Ultimate Bad-Guy?”

Dr. Malevo laughed before he spoke. “You don’t think this guy will make it past the next few issues? He managed to secure enough funds so I can continue my evil dominance of the world.”

“I must have under estimated you. I figured you were a depthless two dimensional character. If it’s possible to have one dimension then you’re a living example. I’m outta here.” hizz. OA disappeared.

ThUD. WHiSH. zAP. zOOM. The two missiles connected with the barrel. There was a tremendous explosion. Dead fish rose to the surface. PPP was busy dancing. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” he celebrated.

Dr. Malevo walked up next to him and smiled. “It is over. Paragon, The Ultimate Man is dead.” He pointed to the vital signs that were now a flatline.

A lil ole prologue:

Poet appeared inside the Newport Creamery. He blinked in surprise.

Excuse me, Poet said to a waitress. I know my power is waning, but I planned on turning the Newt back into Matt

“Oh. Some orange cat put him in a box and married him to London.”

Poet blinked again. I’m outta here.

Next Issue: MEMOREX TrackBall Program Disk. If Used Incorrectly Then The World Will Be Conquered.

Author’s Notes

I guess. I guess I went a little strange. It has been a rather strange week and I’m happy that I was bounced up in the order. That way I got a chance to get rid of Paragon. Originally, well, originally Drizzt was going to follow me. I asked him if there was anything special I could do. He said kill Paragon. So I did. Paragon’s dead, the next writer is up and I hope I did this entire thing justice.

Matt, I’m sorry I turned you into a Newt. At least you’re seeing the world. :)

Best of luck to the next author. I’ll be back in late August. Net access? Who knows. The title comes from that something’s just lying on my desk.

  1. Chapter 15: Don’t Be a PRICK
  2. RAC Challenge!
  3. Chapter 17: MEMOREX