Infinite Horizons: Ravio and Sofiette - Act 4 Scene 1
By Ravil and Sofielisk
Scene: Ye Protoss Poker House. Currently the temple's staff members and minimum-wage janitors are in a state of deep spiritual meditation, contemplating some of life's most secretive mysteries. However, one voice can be heard echoing through the halls of the temple. It is sung slowly, off pitch, and generally sounds like nails on a chalkboard.)
"o/~ Oh, showeth me the way to go *HIC* home, o/~
o/~ I art tired and I want to go to bed, o/~
o/~ I *HIC* haddeth a little drink about an ho-ho-hour ago, o/~
o/~ And it went right to m-my *HIC* head…o/~"
(The camera pans down through the Poker House, and eventually pans in on the main lobby/sanctuary. There, seated at a table, is Father Snapper, a rather large (and ¾ empty) bottle of Shakuran Ale in his faltering grip. Despite his lack of a terrestrial mouth, he is stone drunk. He is about to start a second rousing verse when he is disturbed by the sound of the front door swinging open. He turns around to see who has intruded upon him.)
Snapper: Oh, is-is-is jus' you. Go 'way…I'm 'edita'ing.
Mz: (Coming in and wiping his dirty feet on the marble floor) Hehe…you're like, drunk, pops.
Snapper: (Trying to retain his dignity) I yam not! What b-b-be thy business here, thou overgrown cockroach?
Mz: Like, Fron sent me here. He said he wanted me to, like, talk to you about marrying Sofie. (A dreamy, far-off, and generally repulsive look settles on his face, and drool drips from his open mouth) Oh man, I'm going to squeeze her…
Snapper: (Not liking the thought of Zerg sexual practices any more than he did yesterday) S-silence! W-when dost thou wish to marry the fair *HIC* Sofielisk? Ne-ext year? N-next decade, perchance?
Mz: Like, Thursday.
Snapper: (Eyes practically bulging out of his head) T-T-T-Thursday?!? H-hast thou lost thy kashew-sized mind? I-I just wed a pair of Zerg the other day. I-I don't wanna think about it no more…
Mz: (Suspicious) Like, who was gettin' married?
Snapper: (Realizing he has said too much) Uh…uh…N-Nargil and Z-Z-Zasz. Yeah, that 'tis it…I hope they art very happy together…
Mz: Like, okay. So, I wanna…hehe, I wanna marry Sofie on Thursday, 'cause Fron lets me stay up late on Friday nights.
Snapper: B-but the time, 'tis so short…
Mz: Fron said so. If you don't let me marry Sofie, I'm gonna tell on you.
Snapper: (Mock shudder) I d-do shaketh with fear. Also, I dost not believe that Sofielisk truly wishes to marry thee.
Mz: (Disappointment covering his face) Like, sure she does!
Snapper: (Looking out the window, although to him there appear to be three of them) W-w-well, why not ask thy bride? Here comes the lady t-towards my casino.
(The door flies open once again, and Sofielisk comes slithering in, a complete nervous wreck (or more than usual, anyway).)
Sofie: Father Snapper! Father Sna - (spots Mz) Eeeeewww! What art THOU doing here?
Mz: (Snickers and positions himself so that it is quite clear what he has in mind) Like, hi honey. Wanna go and do some 'pre-nupital agreements'? Huh, huh? Do ya?
Sofie, Sassy, & Jasmine: EEEEEWWW! Screweth thee off, Zergling!
Mz: Like, maybe you could help me…
Sofie: 'Twould be our pleasure! (Picks up Mz by the tail and tosses him out of Ye Protoss Poker House. She then bars the door and goes back to Snapper.) *WHEW* Thank the gods that he ist gone.
Snapper: A-a-ah, Sofie, j-just the Hydralisk I d-didn't w-wanted to *HIC* see…
Sofie: Father, thou must help us!
Sassy: Ravil 'tis banished from Irvine!
Jasmine: Fron is making us marry Mz! Thou must help us! Thou art our only hope!
Snapper: W-what can I do? Thou already asked me to wed thee to Ravil, and I didst do *HIC* this thing. B-but look where it hast lead us! D-d-disaster!
(Snapper beckons towards the window, and all three personalities peer out. In the background, the city is ablaze, apparently set on fire by one of Duraznos' misplaced torture socks. It provides a startlingly dramatic backdrop for the final scene.)
Snapper: I-Irvine 'tis burning, and I left my fiddle b-back on Aiur! A-all my hard work in building up my *HIC* gambling emporium is g-going to ruin out there! H-how can pennance ever be'th made for this?!?
Sassy: We couldst always roast marshmallows…
Snapper: S-Sofielisk, I know thy grief; it s-strains me past the compass of my wits. B-but there ist nothing I can do to waylay it. On *HIC* Thursday thou shalt be wed – again - t-to Mz.
Sofie: Oh, thanks, thou art a lot of help.
Jasmine: Is there nothing that thou can do?
Snapper: (Sighs and tries to get up, but falls back down to the table again in a drunken stupor) S-Sofie, it dost pain me g-greatly to see thee torn from thy love. I once lost a loved one, too.
Sofie: (Confused) But thou art a monk! Thou tookst a vow of chastity back on Aiur!
Snapper: W-who said anything about a person? I once had to go an entire day without touching a deck of thy cards!
Jasmine: The inhumanity…
Snapper: (Ignoring the ignorant feline…how could she POSSIBLY know about the joys of gambling?) Now that I think about it, I might be able to help thee some, S-Sofielisk. B-But it 'twould require a lot of c-c-coordination and e-effort…
Sofie: Then we art fortunate that thou possesses these qualities, Father.
Snapper: S-s-silence! I-If thou wisheth my help, then thou must l-listen carefully. (All three personalities shut up) B-better. (He takes another swig out of his jug…don't ask how) I-I will give thee a most potent brew, one that 'twill still thy heart and make thy flesh cold. T-take this *HIC* potion when thou art lying in thy bed. When thou art discovered, everyone in CWAL wilt believe thee to be dead!
Sassy: Maybeth, or maybeth not. Lothos' heart stoppeth every night from all the TV and beef jerky. We just have Fron prod him a few times, and he ist as good as new.
Snapper: B-but this potion, not even Fron shalt be able to awaketh thee from. 'Tis a most foul brew that 'tis only fit for drinking by we Protoss. (Pounds his chest, knocking the wind out of himself. He then picks up the jug of Shakuran Ale, and very slowly, after spilling about half of its remaining contents on the table, pours some into a small vial, which he then hands to Sofie.) It will kill most l-lesser species, but 'twill only put thee into a deep sleep, Sofie. I wilt send word to Ravil in Los Angeles as to thy *HIC* w-whereabouts and thy circumstances. O-once thou art put in the CWAL crypt, t-then Ravil wilt come and remove thee. Then thou shalt awaken, and the pair of thee shall go off and live hideously ever after.
Sofie: Ooo-ooo-ooo! Sounds like fun!
Sassy: 'Specially the drinking part!
Jasmine: But we art too young to be drinking…oweth! Sofie!
(Sofie takes the small capsule from Snapper, then thanks him gratefully and heads back to CWAL Headquarters to stage her own death. Meanwhile, the good Father goes back to the rest of his bottle.)
"o/~ Oh, I art tired a-and I want…I want…o/~"
(Snapper's head suddenly slumps down upon the table. A deep, rumbling snore begins to emanate from him.)
(Scene: CWAL Headquarters, later that night. Most of the CWALers are gathered in the main game room, where the disastrous dance was held only days before. Tied very, very securely to chairs in the middle of the room are Webrunner and Noid, both looking very beaten and manhandled. The CWALers of this universe are surrounding them in a large circle, ready to inflict punishment upon their look-alike brethren should the need suddenly arise. Fron stands in front of both of them, cattle prod in hand, looking very leader-like indeed.)
Fron: Attention all thou CWALers! We haveth here the Zerg Canadian doppelgangers that wert sent to infiltrate our great organization! (All the CWALers cheer and gloat. Fron turns to the two captives.) What shall we do with them?
Noid: Um…let us go?
Lothos: BURN THEM! BURN YE DOPPLEGANGERS!
Fron: A worthy idea! But first we must test to see if they are truly doppelgangers, lest we burn our own kin at the stake. What burns well aside from doppelgangers?
Lothos: MORE DOPPELGANGERS!
Duraznos: Thou art a fool, Lothos. Everyone knowest that Jolt dost burns better than doppelgangers.
(Jolt cowers in fear in a nearby corner.)
Fron: Correct! So thus, if doppelgangers burn, and Jolt burns, THEN…
Lothos: (Slowly) …If ye weigh as much as Jolt, then thou art a doppelganger?
Fron: Thou art correct!
(Lothos looks around proudly and gets several pats on the back from his fellow CWALers.)
Fron: Bring out the Scales of CWAL!
(Amdist cheers and cries from all assembled, a massive set of scales is pushed out into the center of the room. Webrunner is hoisted up onto the shoulders of various CWALers, and moved towards the giant device.)
Webrunner: NO! WAIT! TAKE NOID, HE'S THE ONE YOU WANT!
Noid: Thanks, Webrunner.
Legion007: Shutteth thee up!
(Webrunner is placed on one of the ends of the scale, while Jolt is shoved on to the other. The CWALers begin to chant as the device tilts one way, then the other.)
CWALers: Scales of CWAL, weigh weigh weigh! Show our enemies just what they shalt pay!
(After several seconds, the scale balances almost perfectly.)
Lothos: HE ART A DOPPELGANGER!
CWALers: DOPPELGANGER! DOPPELGANGER! BURN HIM! BURN HIM!
Webrunner: (Glaring accusingly at Jolt) You've lost weight, haven't you?
Jolt: (Shrugs) Sorry.
(The CWALers seize Webrunner again, and push him through the crowd to a large wooden pole (which, for some insane reason, is inside the HQ), which he is subsequently tied to. Then several gallons of gasoline are splashed upon him. Fron lights a lighter and slowly walks forward, grinning wickedly.)
Fron: This shalt teach thee murderous Zerg Canadians to attempt espionage upon CWAL in thy future!
"Okay, everybody FREEZE!"
(All of the CWALers whip around to stare at the Headquarters' main entrance, which was left open in the frenzy to burn some doppelgangers. Two figures, looking very similar indeed, are standing in the doorway, one with a large-caliber shotgun trained on the other's head.)
Dorg: Look! She has thy Lady Fron hostage!
Dee: Everybody put your weapons down NOW! (She sees Webrunner tied to the pole) And somebody untie that poor shmuck, too! We're getting out of here!
Dragoneyes: (Having the shotgun pointed at her) Do as she suggesteth…she art me, or at least some strange doppleganger. She wilt pull the trigger if she has to!
Fron: (Casually) I thinketh not. CWALers, take thy aim!
(All of the CWALers suddenly have their firearms out, and train them directly on Dee, who looks around, more than a little bit disconcerted by this sudden action. Dragoneyes doesn't appear to be too happy, either.)
Dragoneyes: (Seething and glaring at Fron) DEAR! Dost thou not realize that I haveth a GUN TRAINED ON MY HEAD?!?
Fron: (Waves a hand dismissively) If she dost killeth thee, dear, then we shalt kill her. Besides…thou wert terrible in bed.
Dragoneyes: (Now REALLY mad, and also taken aback) _I_ wast terrible?!? Me? Do not get me started about thee, DEAR…
Fron: (Not listening to his wife anymore) CWALers, prepare to fire!
Dee: (Sweating uncontrollably) Maybe this wasn't such a hot idea after all.
Webrunner: (Staring with huge eyes at the lighter in Fron's hands, hovering nearby him) You're telling me…