POTATO MOON, Part 83: “Next Time We Don’t Let the Power Rangers Fans Participate” by Aaron “CyberV” Thall

Beyond the fourth wall, the almighty editor PAD stretched his arms and yawned. He’d been sitting at the computer reading this stupid thing for so long that his butt has taken root to his chair. Looking around for a crowbar to pry himself free, he paused to check and see who the next participant was in this farce.

And then he groaned. “Oh no… Not HIM…”

At that same moment, many miles away in Ohio, the next participant began to practice his evil laugh.

“Oh, this is gonna be GOOD…”

***

Back in the story, or what passed for a story at this point since no one was actually still reading it (I mean, it’s not like it’s a Harry Potter novel or anything…), Woeisme, Jacob, and Edwood were still hard at work, trying to make the effigy grow. Thus far, they’d tried showtunes (it did nothing), polka (It actually regressed a bit in protest), and, just for a moment, mime rap. The latter proved fruitless, as there were already enough clowns in the music business.

“Maybe we should try singing from the heart instead,” suggested Edwood.

“I didn’t know hearts had vocal cords,” started Woeisme before pausing. “…Oh. Nevermind.”

“She’s SO lucky she’s pretty,” muttered Jacob.

“We have to hurry,” said Solanium. “We’re almost out of time. I mean, there can’t be THAT many chapters left at this point!”

“Okay then… Here goes nothing…” Woeisme took a deep breath. A minute later, she remembered to keep breathing regularly. Once that was straighened out, she began to sing a tune most melancoly.

“The Emo Song”
(original tune)

(melancoly)

Kill me now, do it swiftly
End the torture and the pain
I just ask you do it quickly
‘Fore I reach the next refrain.
Because I feel the odds are slimming
And I feel my chances slim
And the longer that this goes on
The more that my hopes dim…

So when I feel that way
And I’m losing all control
I look deep within myself
And find a brand new goal
To turn my emotions inside out
And then rewrite my brain
You may think that that sounds nuts
But I think it’s just sane…

(Insanely peppy and energetic)

When everything is going wrong
I just sing the Emo Song!
And everything feels better now!
Don’t you see that little frown
It’s just a smile turned upside down!
I’m singing the emo song!

Just try to go ignore the stryfe!
And get on with your new life!
Singing the emo song!
Ignore the stares and all the gaffes!
Turn them on their ears and laugh!
Singing the emo song!

(Calmer and slower)

So no more cutting and getting down
I’ll plant both feet upon the ground
And as I stand here upon the mound
I find a way to laugh…

(Insanely peppy and energetic)

When everything is going wrong
I just sing the Emo Song!
And everything feels better now!
Don’t you see that little frown
It’s just a smile turned upside down!
I’m singing the emo song!

Just try to go ignore the stryfe!
And get on with your new life!
Singing the emo song!
Ignore the stares and all the gaffes!
Turn them on their ears and laugh!
Singing the emo song!

SINGING THE EMO…. SOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGG! YEAH!

Everyone blinked.

“You need serious therapy, you know that, right?” asked Vlad.

“Quiet, you.”

“Did it work?” asked Jacob.

The effigy looked no different, but it seemed to now have a small curly fry noose around it’s neck.

“I’m guessing no.”

Which was when the ground began to shake.

***

Back beyond the fourth wall, PAD desperately dialed up the current writer on Skype. As soon as he answered, PAD was on his case like Fox News on common sense.

“ARE YOU COMPLETELY INSANE?!”

“Ummm… Yeah. I mean, I compared the dang story to Count Duckula, remember?”

“Didn’t you even READ the file first?”

“You didn’t check the comments I made in the last scene, huh? Well, I’m sorry, but at this point…

Copious Amounts of Alcohol
(to the tune of “Theme from Power Rangers Dino Thunder”)

I think they’re all drunk!

Don’t you see?
This was supposed to
Be a parody of “Twilight”.
But now it’s gone off the rails
Totally out of control
Now it makes no sense
The plot’s completely bent…

I don’t understand
No one has a plan
I don’t know what they were thinking
But I bet it involves drinking
Copious amounts of alcohol…

But it’s too late now
On with mocking the cash cow

I don’t understand
No one has a plan
I don’t know what they were thinking
But I bet it involves drinking
Copious amounts of alcohol!

“Why the hëll are you singing?”

“I have NO idea.”

“SIGH… Forget I asked. Just… Just TRY to not go TOO far, okay?”

“…Too late.” The writer grinned.

***

Back in the story again, the assembled cast turned as Bela screamed. The ground still shaking, they saw her stumbling back, away from something. For once, though, she wasn’t the center of attention, and didn’t mind it either.

The reason was obvious. Growing steadily before all of them was a massive man made of potato, roaring in a display of power that would impress anyone except the deaf and the french fry industry. In seconds, the being was as tall as a skyscraper. Looking down upon them, he opened his mouth and bellowed.

“I… AM… IDAHO!”

Solanium, still looking up, spontaneously released several tater tots from his backside. “I think I goofed. It doesn’t take us TO Idaho… It RELEASES him.”

“Who’s Idaho?” asked Edwood.

“Whoever has enough money?” put in Jacob.

Somewhere, someone hit the comedy beat on their drumset.

“Idaho is the supreme embodiment of all potatoes. He is the one to whom god kings bow. Millennia ago, he ruled this world. He had eyes everywhere!”

And the drumset went off again.

“That is REALLY annoying…”

The drummer responded with a rude gesture.

“As I was saying, he was both vast in power and cruel of spirit. Any of the potatoes that didn’t do as he said were absorbed into his body, forever captured within as part of him. A fate worse than kettle chipping. I’ll never forget the day he absorbed Julienne Tater AuGratin. She was one hot potato.”

“ENOUGH RECAPPING! YOU!” He pointed at Jacob. “You who are of my people! I sense that you have been careless, releasing pieces of yourself into this world at random. Careless, yes… But convenient for me! For now, I shall FEAST!”

Idaho thrust his hand into the ground, creating a massive quake. Just off scene, every single one of Jacob’s offshoots found themselves entwined by roots. The ones that were married were given a free ride.

And the drumset went off again.

“I’m minutes, I shall absorb all your pieces! Once I have done this, I shall be nigh unstoppable! I SHALL BE SUPREME!”

‘But will you be quiet?” asked Jacob.

Furious, Idaho roared.

“So that’s a maybe, right?”

In response, the ground split, seperating Vlad and Solanium from the rest of the group.

“We need a plan!” yelled Edwood.

“I need more lines!” whined Bela. Thankfully, a rock flew up and smacked her in the head.

“WE NEED HELP!”

Which was the cue for the next musical number.

***

“Okay, the giant potato guy is kinda cool,” allowed PAD. “But what are you doing now?”

The writer chuckled as he opened a hole in the fourth wall, letting the characters see PAD.

“Ask him!” he shouted to the gang. “He controls everything in this world!”

PAD glared at him, but it was too late. The music had already begun.

“Hey there, PAD!”
(To the tune of “Rental Song” from “Nerima Daikon Brothers”)

“OOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…”
“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH…”
“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH…”

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! OH!”

Hey there, PAD!
Can we have a plot contrivance please?
Hey there, PAD?
Is there any way in the world that we can get you to go twist the plot?
Just don’t let us sit and rot!
We need a
DEUX!
EX!
MACHINA to get us on our way
So we hope our song may sway
Your heart into letting us do the things that we now feel must get done!
WOOO!!!!

As the music died down, PAD sighed.

“We are SO gonna get sued by Funimation for this…”

“Or Disney.”

“Yeah. Them too.”

“Well?” demanded Edwood. “How about it?”

“…No.”

All three of them gaped at PAD, astonished.

“You don’t need it. You’ve got everything you need right there inside each of you.”

“Painful gas and bloating?”

“Unrequited love and a need to monologue?”

“Sexy russet goodness?”

“No,” said the writer, taking over for PAD. He whispered an idea into their heads.

And almost immediately, Jacob began to grow and change, even as he picked up both Edwood (resisting the urge to chuck him into the next chapter) and Woeisme. His head becoming slightly more hollow than usual, they both went inside and found comfortable seats.

“WHAT… WHAT IS THIS?!” demanded Idaho as the transformation ended.

Jacob grinned. And the music began one last time.

“We’re the stars of this story!” he said.

“And we’re tired of this stupid Idaho plot!” added Woeisme.

“So meet our WearGiantRobot!”

(The following dialogue all takes place to the tune “Nerima Daikon Brothers (TV version)”)

“So you wanna go and rule the world! Sorry pal, but I’m afraid it’s over.” Jacob/WereGiantRobot punched Idaho, forcing the villain back.

“You’ve gotta get past us first and that’s just not gonna happen now!” Woeisme sat back. All she had to do was look hot.

“Gotta say man, this form rocks! Now let’s go clean his clock!” Edwood prepared himself for his role in this bit sure to make the writer get beaten up by everyone else.

“I’m bringing out my peeler blades! Let’s bring… him… down to size!!!!” Two potato peelers extended from Jacob’s wrists. He raised them menacingly towards Idaho.

“Do you truly think that I’m afraid of you?! Come on and do your worst!” Idaho charged forward to attack

“OOOOOHHHHHH OH OH! OOOOHHH OH OH! YES we think we shall!”

“Hey you see these blades? Well don’tcha know?” started Woeisme. “They’re powered by shinepire glow!” Edwood let loose with his internal shine, and the peeler blades surged with energy.

“OOOHHH OH OH! OH OH OH! TIME TO SLICE AND DICE!” Jacob span around like a top as Idaho reached them, the blades instantly and methodically turning him into delicious shoestring fries.

“Oh what a world! I don’t even get to go with a burger…”

Inside the head, both Edwood and Woeisme regretted eating mexican food earlier in the day.

As the music died down, it began to rain fries all over the county. Everywhere, people looked up, opened their mouths, and allowed themselves to truly be one with Idaho.

Then they looked for the ketchup clouds. Because he was a bit dry and bland.

As Edwood and Woeisme climbed out of Jacob’s head, he looked at them.

“Please tell me you didn’t throw up inside my brain.” He slowly changed back to what passed for normal.

“Okay. We won’t tell you.”

Jacob coughed, and a nasty looking half digested piece of burrito came out. He glared at them, and they whistled innocently.

***

PAD glared at the writer, wanting very much to throttle him.

“You seriously need professional help.”

‘Yeah. I’m my own brand of crazy all right.”

“Are you done yet?”

“Pretty much. But I was wondering if you’d have room for the Naked Ðìçk Cheney Dancers?”

As he asked, a dozen naked Cheneys came out doing a cancan.

“OH look at the naked people dancing! Look at all the prancing! Oh my god I think I might go blind!”

Thankfully, as they began to do a final high kick, PAD hung up. His eyesight was safe. But the mental scarring would last a lifetime.

***
All over the rest of the story, Jacob’s missing alter egos realized that the writer had left them all still stuck in roots. Several were being mistaken for pinatas. Mostly the more annoying ones. The Colbert one was dragged off by a bear. He was last heard whining about not winning an Emmy for best performance while being slowly devoured by a godless killing machine.

***

Back in his office at the computer, PAD turned to his wife and sighed.

“Kath? Next time, we don’t let the Power Rangers fan participate.”