The Blog of Dabido (the Baka one). Everything in this blog is copyrighted. Copyright 2004, 2005, 2006 by D. Stevenson.

27 July, 2006

Superman - Handbag Snatcher [PARTE THIRTEEN]

Harold was having a wonderful time. Sure, New York was being terrorised by a huge hairy ape who liked to eat tanks, trains, planes, people, objects … well, almost everything it could get it’s hands on, but Harold could still see the upside.

As a Gremlin, chaos was just a normal part of life. New York was getting colder as it headed towards a bitterly cold winter. However, now he’d found himself a nice warm place to sleep. Harold liked nothing better than to curl up, all toasty like and have sweet dreams.

‘HAROLD!’ screamed Clarke. Harold awoke with a start. ‘Harold,’ continued Clarke. ‘Get out of the monkey poo!’ ‘But, it’s so nice and warm!’ ‘You’re sleeping in our fertaliser! We have to sell it, and I don’t want any gremlin contamination getting into it!’ Harold climbed out of the large monkey pat he’d been sleeping in and slunk off to the showers in a nearby Wayne Industries warehouse. Clarke was slowly regaining his super powers as the kryptonite worked it’s way out of his system. It had only taken a matter of hours to fly from Gotham to New York. Something still faster by plane, but Clarke was getting better … slowly.

Clarkes mobile phone rang. ‘Hello? Oh Bruce, good to hear from you … Yeah, I’ve got the stuff you wanted … Yeah, I’ll be back in a few hours … hmm, two FBI agents you say. One of thme isn’t Fox Dabido is it? That pig was the guy who put the kryptonite in my heroin. Yeah, I’ll take him and his friend out … X-files? No, never heard of the show. Why do you ask? … really? Don’t remember an episode full of monkey poo at all. Okay, see you too Uncle Bruce … um, can you stop blowin me kisses over the phone … no, I don’t like it … I think I’d know if I like dit or not. Look, I’ve got to go, Harold is playing in the product again!’ With that Clarke hung up the phone and went to haul Harold out of the monkey poo again.


‘Oh, Come on turtle,’ said Grasshopper. ‘Just go in the back of the truck. It’s so much easier thna having to hire people to shovel it in.’

Lunther Corp had managed to corner the Tokyo monster poo market, but Wayno Industries had conquered the New York, and to a lesser extent the Gothopolis Hulk poo market. Together, they were making many world deserts capable of growing food for the world. Lunther Corp were busy working on the Sahara crop fields, while Wayno Industries concentrated more on the American deserts and the Gobi desert in China.

‘Come on turtle. I have other monsters to negotiate with.’ The giant turtle screamed, which would have made perfect sense if Grasshopper was capable fo speaking Monster, but alas, he only knew English, Mandarin, Japanese, Korean and twelve different Chinese dialects [mainly from the Southern regions]. For someone who was effectively a lazy sod, his total fascination with all things television related had led him to learn an awful lot of different languages. He had smatterings of French, Italian, and Hindi, and several other languges. Alas, not one of them was monster.

The turtle screamed out again, ‘Clear the area you stupid human. I have to go urgently. I’ll go in your friggin’ truck, but just move else you’ll be engulfed in a tidal wave of …’ It was too late. Grasshopper’s kean martial art moves were not enough to save him from a rapid surf down the Narita Highway in a wave of green. No one knew what that turtle kept eating, but his by products were green and things grew in it very easily. In fact, they often grew twice as large as they should have. No one really cared, as it was all being fed to the poorer third world countries.


The two vampires were hanging upside down in a tree in Sapporo. ‘So,’ said the first one. ‘You seen that new movie, the Da Vampire Code?’ ‘No, what’s it about?’

The conversation might have continued, except a large T-Rex type creature stood on the tree. Being vampires, they were not killed in the slightest. However, they had broken ever bone in their bodies and were squashed rather falt.

As the T-Rex foot moved off them and rumbled into the distance, they both lay there, flat as pancakes. ‘Kill me now!’ ‘With what? I don’t have a stake.’ ‘Even if we did, how wold we lift it?’ ‘A dog is nibbling on my flattened foot. Shoo, shoo doggy. Shoo, or I’ll bite you on the neck.’ ‘You can’t bite a dog, you might turn into a werewolf.’ ‘Don’t be stupid, you only turn into a werewolf if you’re bitten by a wolf on a full moon.’ ‘I thought that was werecows!’ ‘Werecows? Are you nuts? There aren’t any werecows in Sapporo.’ ‘Oh yeah, I forgot, they’re all down in Kobe.’ ‘That’s right. ANd I heard they have flying ones in a place called Smallethorpe in America.’ ‘Flying cows! Pttthhh, you’d believe anything you see on Tee Vee.’ ‘Why are flying cows so hard to believe?’ ‘Oh, come on. Vampires, werewolves, werecows, T-Rex monsters, giant apes in New York, gremlins and yetis on motorcycles, those things exist, but flyin cows! You’re just so gulliable!’ ‘Yeah, I guess you’re right. I have such a vivid imagination!’

And so it was, that four hours later Brad the Unpaler [vampire extraordinaire], was able to reassemble himself inside a dogs stomach, while his friend, Ivan the ‘Not So Nice’, had to wait for a rampant squirrel to nibble on him before any reassembling from flat to vampire was again possible.