The Annoyingly Amazing Lisa: Thunderbolt Trickster! [fic]

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HALLOWE'EN SPECIAL (and crossover with Eerie Cuties)

Postby Alice Macher » Thu Nov 04, 2010 4:55 pm

We now return to...


Part Two: Fangs for the Memories

Lisa and her sidekicks Penny and Aggie were thrilled to land a summer gig as, respectively, consultant and screenwriters for the big-budget Hollywood Thunderbolt Trickster film, produced by Hot Lights' Meighan McDowell and starring redheaded Rhodes scholar (just kidding) Lucy in the title role. None of which quite prepared them for Meighan's executive dictate that Lisa's big-screen counterpart partake of the teen vampire fad. (That's fighting a vampire, not becoming one.) Still less for the eerily lovely but standoffish brunette, who now stood before them, cast as the villain, Darlella.

"So," said Layla Delacroix, nodding in Lisa's direction. "I take it you're the slayer human they've brought in as a consultant for my costar."

"It's 'super-powered individual,' not 'slayer,' and pleased to meetcha. I'm Lis--"

"Whatever," said Layla, turning vaguely Penny-and-Aggiewards. "And I suppose you're the writers. Hm. You look halfway intelligent, and one of you is kinda goth, so that's all right. And that barely-clad mortal bimbo I passed on the way in must be my costar. She any good?"

Meighan cleared her throat. "She's an excellent actor, Layla. We only hire the best. You did watch the tape of the No Exit performance, right?"

"The play about the mortals stuck in a wimpy, sanitized version of Hell? Yeah, skimmed it. So, Meighan, you'll be supplying me with the necessary...fluids?"

"Hey, it's in your contract, ain't it? Now, here's your copy of the revised Thunderbolt Trickster treatment. And one for Lucy. Be a babe and pass it to her on your way out, okay?"

"Sure." Layla headed for the door, paused, and cast a backwards glance at Lisa. "Look forward to working with you...slayer." She grinned a fang-baring grin and left the room, closing the door behind her.

"So," said Meighan. "Whadya think?"


"What's the matter, girls? Bat got your tongues?"

"She kept calling me 'slayer,'" said Lisa. "Watches too much TV, is my guess."

"She kept distinguishing herself from 'mortals' and 'humans,'" said Aggie. "Even the couple of...mentally challenged girls I know back home have never been that out of it."

"And what's up with the fangs?" said Penny. "She file her teeth like that, or are those just a damn good costuming job?"

"Girls, girls," said Meighan, sweeping the air in front of her. "Layla Delacroix is a gifted method actor. When she takes on a role, she lives it. So don't be weirded out by all the vampire talk. Or fangs. She may strike you as a bit eccentric, but...y'know. Actors, amirite? Heh. Okay, hit the road, girls; I got power tapas to eat at a meeting across town. We'll start putting you all to work tomorrow."

Once downstairs, the three friends called for a taxi back to their hotel and waited in the studio lobby.

"I couldn't help but notice," said Penny, "that Meighan never answered my question about the fangs."

"So?" said Lisa.

"Well, it's just...they looked pretty real to me. Like Charles's, only bigger and sharper. And there was the way she leered at you when she called you 'slayer' again on her way out. I mean, I know this sounds dumb, but--"

Aggie smiled and laid her hand on Penny's. "Aw, hon. You're not suggesting Layla's an actual vampire, are you?"

Lisa cupped her hands around her mouth. "Your attention, please. We have a scared little girl at the Haunted House ride, who's looking for her--"

Penny glared daggers at Lisa. "Lis," said Aggie quickly, "don't be mean."

"Thanks, Ag," said Penny. "And look, Lisa, is it totally beyond the realm of possibility that beings like vampires could exist? I mean, you must've seen lots of weird stuff in your adventuring, maybe those times we couldn't get out of school for, to go with you? And what about, y'know, your own powers? Those are what we'd call paranormal, right?"

Lisa waved her hand. "Nothin' that science can't explain. Not my powers, not anything I've seen on any case I've worked on. And for sure nothing about bat-winged, pasty-faced emos who walk the Earth lamenting, 'Oh! if only I could but one day go outside to watch the sunrise." She covered her forehead with her arm while miming the swishing of a cape with the other. Penny and Aggie smirked. "'And, ah! to know once more what 'tis to have a soooooooul... But yet still might I know
lo-o-o-ove...'" Her friends were now giggling hysterically, attracting funny looks from studio staffers. "Okay, okay, before we get kicked out of this nice air-conditioned building: I trust I've made my point?"

"Sure...okay," said Penny in between gasps. "I believe you. There are no such things as vampires."

"Smart girl. But hark! Our taxi arrives, to convey us to Nosferatu's castle, AKA the Hilton."

Meanwhile, in a specially-requested penthouse suite, Layla was lounging on the bed, petting a white-haired cat, when a knock came on the door. "Under the bed, Mr. Boodles, and keep quiet," she whispered. She answered the door, retrieved a package marked "Caritas Clinic Medical Supplies," left the delivery man a barely-adequate tip, and sent him on his way. "Aaaah...dinnertime," she said, licking her lips as her nails perforated the tape. She rustled through the paper inside, pulled out a bag of thick red liquid, and brought it to her lips.

"Forgetting something, young lady?" said a disembodied, regal voice across the room. The cat popped out from under the bed with a happy meow at the sound.

Layla, startled, nearly spilled blood on the carpet. "Gah! Sorry, your majesty. She poured the greater part of the contents into a tall crystal vial on the nighttable. "Go ahead, drink up."

"'Go ahead, drink up.' You young folk today and your manners. Just see to it you remember our agreement. I use my magical influence to get you this...pantomime job, with attendant fame and the chance of winning back your tomcat lover. In return, you provide me with thrice-daily offerings toward my corporeal resurrection on this plane."

"Yes, your majesty," said Layla, rolling her eyes, thankful that her "guest" couldn't see her do so, yet. "But um, do you really need all that blood three times a day? Not to complain, but it doesn't leave me with all that much, and I'm concerned I'll still be hungry."

"Not my concern. If this McDowell mortal you toil for won't increase your daily allotment, you know well what you must do to fill your stomach."

"Y...eah, but I was kinda hoping to avoid that, this far from home or school."

"Pssh," said the voice. "You soft, decadent Delacroix clan with your scruples against killing, maiming or turning those mortal monkeys. Always with the tiny sips and the memory-wiping spells afterward. Such misplaced morality is unbecoming of our race. Well, when I'm reconstituted in due time, we're going back to doing things my way. Oh, what fun Mr. Boodles and I will have, ensorceling and enslaving nubile young mortal wenches and wastrels, and going forth to feast on the villagers. Isn't that right, Mr. Boodles? Yesh it ish."

As the pet jumped and flipped around the room in ecstasy, Layla turned the TV on to drown out the noise. It'd be hard to explain the pet, not to mention the tall vial of blood, to hotel staff, and with so little food allowed her, she knew she had to conserve her memory-wiping energy for when she'd really need it: for feeding. Which, she was afraid, might be more often than she'd counted on.

--To be continued--
"Life doesn't wait forever." --Lisa Winklemeyer
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Postby Alice Macher » Sun Nov 07, 2010 6:24 pm

Part Three: A Sip in Time Saves Nine

The weeks passed. Meighan, and the director, Kaitlin Bogelew, put Lisa to work on the set, mostly coaching Lucy on her combat style for the fight scenes. Often this involved mock hand-to-hand battles with Layla as a demonstration. Lisa enjoyed these more than enough to put up with Layla's curt, snobbish ways. In her adventures as Thunderbolt Trickster, she hadn't yet encountered anyone with super-strength, speed or agility, other than her fellow super-powered individuals whom she of course hadn't fought. (This isn't a grimdark nineties comic, after all. -- Ed.) Layla, however, was skilled enough actually to make her break a sweat; in fact, Lisa suspected she might be holding back. Yet another reason to put up with her, she thought.

Meanwhile, Penny and Aggie spent most of their days cooped up in their hotel room, writing the screenplay, videoconferencing with Meighan, revising, videoconferencing again. Revise, rinse and repeat. "Make the dialogue more Diablo Cody," Meighan would say. "Like Jennifer's Body only, y'know, good." Knowing Lisa as they did, this wasn't difficult. Later, Meighan would tell them, "No, too much Cody. Throw in a little Joss Whedon." Again, this wasn't difficult, knowing Daphne as Aggie did.

Around three weeks in, a breathless Aggie answered her cell. "Lis?... What's... up? Penny and... I... are... busy... working."

"At ten minutes to midnight? I can only imagine the kinda 'work' you're up to. So, is she a moaner or a screa--"


"Just kidding, geez. Calm down. Listen, I'ma need both of you on set tomorrow, in your sidekick capacity. Something funny's goin' on, and I may need backup. Y'see, several of the filming crew have been found--Did Penny just shout 'Fire in the hole'? And what was that thump--oh."

"Yeah," said Aggie, "this totally isn't a good time. Screenwriting is hard work. We'll see you to--ooh, sweetie, not the earlobe--morrow."

Early the next morning, a tired Penny and Aggie dragged their feet into the studio and found Lisa. "So what's theee...hum, excuse me... deal?" said Aggie.

"The deal is that, over the last few days, a number of the crew have been found in restrooms, closets and a dumpster, passed out. When revived, they showed signs of anemia and short-term memory loss, and had what looked like puncture marks at the base of their necks."

"I knew it," said Penny, applying another layer of concealer under her eyes. "That Delacroix vampire is a bitch. I mean, the other way around."

"Penny, Penny, Penny," said Lisa. "We've been over this. There. Are. No. Such things. As vampires."

"Oh yeah, science girl? Then how'd you explain all that?"

"I 'unno. Bioterrorism or somethin'? That's what you're here to help me find out. Morning, Layla."

The brunette wiped her mouth as she walked in, not looking at the others. "Yeah hi. Uh, listen, my costar Luba--"


"Whatever. Yeah, she said to tell you she may be a few minutes late. Feelin' a bit run down...oh crap."

The reason for Layla's foecal utterance? Lucy had just walked in. Or, rather, zig-zagged in on unsteady feet, holding her forehead. "H...i, guys. I...sorry I'm late. I...what day is it?...Ooh, dizzy." She stumbled and fell on her butt.

"Lucy? What's wrong?" said Lisa.

"Hmph," said Penny, "seems no different to me."

"Aw, sweetheart," said Aggie. "You're not still jealous about my...response to that first costume of hers, are you?"

"I wasn't, but thanks for reminding me."

"Penny? Aggie? Not helping," said Meighan, stomping up and shooing them back a few steps. "Lucy, I thought I made it clear when I cast you that I have zero tolerance for Lindsay Lohan-like drunkenness or drug use on a workday."

"But I don't drink or do drugs! I'm not an addictaphone." She burst into tears.

"Aw, Luce," said Lisa, kneeling down beside her. She took a breathalyzer from her utility belt. "Here hon, breathe into this. For me, okay? That's it...Hmm. No trace of booze in the ol' blood." She fixed the producer with a deadpan stare. "Now Meig, if you really want to be hard-assed about this, we could humiliate her further by having her pee in a cup. How's that sound?"

Meighan sighed. "I'm sorry, Lucy. I believe you. I'll call a cab, and you can go back to your hotel and lie down until you feel better. We'll pick up rehearsals then."

"Wait, before we all head out." Aggie thought for a moment. "Lucy, what's the last thing you remember before coming in here just now?"

"Ohmigod, I'm no good at tests...well, I remember walking in through the front door downstairs, taking the elevator up, going to check my makeup in the little girls' room. And...and then coming to on the restroom floor, all woozy."

"Okay, just before that, while you were checking your makeup, did you see anyone else there with you? Like in the mirror or something?"


Penny stepped forward. "Lucy, let me have a close look at your neck."

"Um," said Lucy, "you're real hot, Penny, but I don't know you that well, and besides, didn't Lisa say you're with Aggie? I mean, I feel bad enough as it is letting Sara kiss me that one time--oopsie."

Penny, Aggie and Lisa exchanged curious glances. "Er...don't worry, Lucy, I'm not gonna kiss you. I just wanna check your neck for--aha! Puncture marks. Take a look, Lis."

Lisa did so. "Yup. Just like the others. And fresh ones, too, from the looks of 'em."

"Welp," said Layla, "if my valued costar's not feeling well, I guess I'll see you folks once she's better." She speed-walked toward the door.

"Hold it." Lisa darted right in front of her. "You were wiping your mouth as you came in, and seemed already to know Lucy was feeling 'run down.' Then you acted unpleasantly surprised when she turned up. Lemme see your hand." She took it. "Blood."

Layla snatched her hand away. "Leave me alone. I have gingivitis, okay?"

"Gingivitis. That bad a case. At age seventeen, huh?"

Layla felt everyone's eyes on her. She drew a deep breath. "All right, look, I can explain."

"There's no need to explain," said Lisa. "It's clear to me what you are. One of those vampirism subculture weirdos. Only instead of draining the tray from mom's rib roast or whatever, you just had to take it too far, put on fake fangs, and--"

"Oh for Vlad's sake," said Layla. "I'm not keeping up this charade any longer, not if it means being patronized by a know-nothing mortal slayer. And I thought that Tiffany, whatsername, Winters, who infiltrated our school was an idiot. I'm a freakin' vampire, okay?"

"I knew it!" said Penny, jumping up ever so slightly and clapping her hands. "Uh, sorry."

"Don't be stupid, Pen," said Lisa. "She's just tryin' to intimidate us. There are no vampires."

"Anyone got a mirror?" said Layla, smiling.

Penny pulled a compact out of her purse. "Here."

Layla flipped it open and held it directly in front of her face. "Now you look over at it, too," she told Lisa, "just from where you stand now, and tell me what you see."

"I God. I see nothing., is my face red."

There were a few moments of silence. Then, "So...what now?" Aggie asked. "Are--are you gonna kill us? Turn us into vampires?"

Layla bristled. "Kill you? Turn you? Why would I want to do that? I don't need to drain anywhere near a lethal amount of blood to feed myself. In fact, if Meighan here had only approved my request for a food budget increase a week ago, I wouldn't have had to feed on you people at all. As for 'turning,' that's just a human myth. First of all, simple mathematics dictates that if we needed to 'turn' humans in order to reproduce, you all would've become vampires, within a matter of weeks, way back when you were just coming down from the trees. Second, we screw each other and pop out babies more or less just like you. We just live a lot longer, is all. No, you have nothing to fear from me."

"I'm sorry, I still don't understand," said Meighan. "If you don't need that much blood to live on after all, then wasn't the blood bank stuff I...quasi-legally got for you more than enough? Why would you need to ask for a seventy-five percent increase and, when I turned it down, resort to feeding on my crew and cast?"

Layla sighed. "I was getting to that. Y'see, I said you have nothing to fear from me. Now, that purple-haired woman who just appeared in a dazzling flash right behind me? Holding a cat? From her--and I'm really sorry about this, honestly--you have a lot to fear."

--To be concluded--
Last edited by Alice Macher on Wed Nov 10, 2010 1:36 pm, edited 1 time in total.
"Life doesn't wait forever." --Lisa Winklemeyer
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Postby Alice Macher » Wed Nov 10, 2010 1:24 pm


Conclusion: The Boodles Incident

As they whisked the purple smoke from their eyes, our heroes, and the rest, did indeed see a beautiful, young-beyond-her years woman in a low-cut black velvet cloak. "I am Lamia Asra-Pa Quintessa, Queen of the Vampires," she said, licking her lips. "For centuries, thanks to the accursed slayer Van Helsing, I have been confined to the aetherial plane, but--"

"Excuse me," said Aggie, "Van Helsing as in Dracula? I thought that was just a novel."

"It was not 'just' a novel. And no, not Abraham Van Helsing. I mean his great-great grandfather, Irving Van Helsing. But he managed to strike me in only one of the traditional ways, thus bringing about naught but the destruction of my body. Thus reduced to my vampiric essence, I bided my time, lending my dread magical influence to deserving acolytes of my people. And then, our young Mistress--"

"Irving Van Helsing?" said Lisa. "Great, I've stumbled into a bad 1960s Borscht Belt routine."

"SILENCE!" said the queen. "That will be the final interruption to my lengthy exposition, mortal scum. As I was saying, our young Mistress Delacroix here, with her deep and desperate yearning for thespian acclaim and her feline paramour back, finally provided just the right foothold for me to reenter this physical plane and wreak havoc on humankind once more, in a dark, bloody, sexy reign that shall never end. All it took was to hold out to her the promise of her dreams fulfilled, and exact from her in return a thrice-daily offering, comprising most of her blood rations, towards my reconstitution. Thank you, Mistress Delacroix, for your (more or less) gracious sacrifice."

"H-happy to be o-of service, your majesty," said Layla, looking down and fidgeting.

"And now, you mortals shall have the honour of being my first meal or six as I celebrate my return. Mm. Except for you four most comely girls. If you surrender now, I'll use you to start my brand new collection of scantily-clad slaves. Oh, baby."

"Hold on," said Meighan, "'four?' And 'girls?' What'm I, chopped liver? I haven't gotten laid in--"

"That's ENOUGH out of you, used goods," said the queen, hissing and assuming her bare-fanged demonic aspect for a moment, thereby making the producer reconsider her words, when the gross sexual insult, sad to say, had not. "Oh! Where are my manners? I almost forgot to introduce my partner in bloodlust." She indicated the white, grimly smiling cat in her arms. "This is my animal companion, Mr. Boodles."

Rodney Redshirt, a stagehand originally from Leeds, UK, stepped forward, laughing. "'Ere, a cat? Wot's 'e do, nibble your bum? 'Ere, puss puss pussy," he cooed, mincing up to Mr. Boodles. "I've got some lovely kibble for--"

Rodney didn't get to finish his sentence. It's rather difficult to continue speaking when a single swipe from a paw has relieved you of your head.

The humans gaped silently at the lifeless, smirking head as the blood pooled out from it and from the body beside it.

"Well then," said the queen, grinning ear to ear. "Who wants to be next?"

"Run away! Run away!" said Lisa, grabbing Penny and Aggie and dashing from the room at super speed. Layla, to the queen's mild surprise, did the same with Lucy and Meighan in tow. "Eh. I suppose I'll have to punish her for her disloyalty," said the queen. "But first, lunch. Right, Mr. Boodles?"

Two floors above the set Lisa managed, with her super strength and dexterity, to force open an editing room door without damaging it. After waving Penny, Aggie, Lucy and Meighan inside, she and Layla stacked as much furniture and heavy equipment as they could find against the door. Then they sat down in the dimly-lit room with the others as everyone tried to collect themselves.

Lisa was the first to speak. "Uh, listen. Assuming we all get out of this alive, we tell the press what we just did was a 'strategic retreat,' right?"

Layla snorted. "Spoken like a true slayer."

"Stop calling me that. I've told you like a bajillion times, I'm a super-powered individual. I'm not a "chosen one." I don't carry stakes, holy water and crosses around with me, and not just because I'm an atheist. And while I will use, and have used, force when necessary, I. Do. Not. Slay."

"Well, considering whom we're up against, maybe it's time you started."

"Whom we're up against?" said Penny. "You got a lot of nerve, Drusilla McFangypants. It was you who got us into this mess in the first place."

"I said I was sorry," said Layla. "I figured, in order to get what I wanted--whom I wanted--I'd just play along with Psycho Queen and her Killer Kitty until I could team up with the...super-powered induhvidual here and take them out before anyone got offed. 'Scuse me for being wrong."

"Speaking of which," said Meighan, "where's our director? Where's Kaitlin?"

Lisa and Layla looked at each other. "D'oh!" they said in unison.

"Great, just f***ing great," said the producer. "At least one of my crew is missing a head; the director's probably a write-off too; I can't imagine what the property damage'll add up to, and the lawsuits; and I still haven't gotten laid."

Lucy burst into tears. "I wish Sara were here. She always knew what to do. And could she ever kiss--gah, I did it again."

Aggie whistled as best an imitation of Lisa's whistle as she could manage. "GUYS! Arguing and crying isn't gonna help. In case you haven't noticed, the crashing and screaming sounds from two floors down have stopped. So it's only a matter of time before the queen and the Anticharles--sorry, Penny--make their way up here and find us. So. We need a plan."

Lisa nodded. "Okay. Queen Bitch said Van Helsing only managed to strike her one way. So we need to hit her with as many vampire killy-things as we can. (I guess my vow never to kill technically only applies to humans. Why be anal.) So let's see. In the novels and movies and such, what kills...right. Stakes. Layla, can you break off the legs from the extra wooden furniture here and sharpen 'em?"

"On it."

"Thanks. Next, crosses. I'll make some out of the silver salts in the photography cupboard here, and a little super speed...Done. Holy water...hmm, I dunno where we're gonna get some of that."

"Actually," said Penny, "I have a small vial here in my purse. Katy-Ann gave it to me as a souvenir from her church trip to Canterbury."

"Well, that's...inordinately coincidental and convenient. Thanks, Pen. That leaves sunlight, and there's plenty of that outside, if we can somehow expose her to it. All right, we're good to go."

"Hold on," said Aggie. "All that stuff, if we're lucky, should take care of Queen Lamia, but what about her cat? Dude was scary fast and vicious."

"Totally. A lot more than I could ever be," said Lisa.

"Or, I must admit, even me," said Layla. "What to do, what to do..."

"Um," said Lucy. "This is probably really stupid, but maybe if we could get a really...sneaky animal somehow? Like a fox or, I 'unno, a coyote?"

Lisa's jaw fell open. "Lucy. That's goddamn brilliant. I could kiss you. I will kiss you." She did.

"Bleeheehee," said Lucy as the love bubbles pooled around her head.

"Likewise. Okay, chica, snap out of it. It's go time."

"But," said Lucy, "where you gonna get--"

Lisa winked. "You'll see."

Two floors down, on the set, Queen Lamia wiped her mouth, looked upon everything she had done, and saw that it was good. "Well, Mr. Boodles. Ten humans dead, drained and dismembered. And such splendid looks of horror and despair on their faces. Not bad for a start, yes? Unfortunately, those most naughty and nubile girls seem to have fled like the mortal cowards they are. No matter, we'll find them." She crouched down and picked up Mr. Boodles as he cast aside a femur from which he'd just worried the last trace of flesh. "Won't we, my Boodle-boo? Yesh we will. Yesh we--eh?"

"Think fast, bitch!" said Lisa, tossing a makeshift cross at her.

The queen spun around and caught it reflexively. "Gah! Nice try, slayer, but all I need do is cast it away from me and then I'll--eh? It, it's stuck to my hand." She began flailing her hand, still cradling Mr. Boodles in the other, as scorch marks began to form around the edges of the cross. "Ow! What sorcery is this?"

"Just epoxy film-splicing glue from the supply cabinet," said Lisa. "But they didn't have epoxy back in your day. Or film. So I guess to you that does count as magic."

The queen, wincing as the silver roasted its way into her hand and arm, ran towards her. "Wretched mortal quim, I'll show you magic--AAH!" She stopped in her tracks as Penny and Meighan beaned her with balloons full of holy water. "No-o-o-o!" she cried as her beautiful hair and face smoked and blackened. Mr. Boodles shrieked and ran out of the room.

Aggie high-fived her girlfriend. "Good one! Puts my soda prank to shame, doesn't i--hey, why am I spouting one-liners in the middle of a fight and with like ten corpses around the room?"

"Suh--soon to be eh-eleven corpses, pig-swiving whore!" With a strength and will that would be admirable if they weren't so, y'know, evil, Lamia, though she could scarcely see, lunged in Aggie's direction. This proved yet another mistake, as her chest found itself acquainted with the business end of a stake. (It seemed Aggie had learned from lacrosse to use a little more aggro after all.) "GYARR! Luh--Luh--Layla... a-as your kuh-kith and kin, I imp...lore you, huh-help meee...I'll fuh-forego your punish...ment. Mostly. AOWWW...All ruh-right, com...pletetly."

Layla gave a pre-arranged signal to Lucy who, quickly putting on gloves, sidled up carefully to the queen and, summoning her courage, took her gently by the arm, hot as it was to the touch. "This way, your majesty," she said, mimicking Layla's voice and upper-class airs. "I'll lead you to safety." The queen, who was now legally (and illegally) blind, complied. "Just a little further, my queen; that's it, through this door...there."

"Thuh--thank you, You huh-have puh-proved a loOYYYYYYYY! N-O-O-O-O! A-all fuh-four deaths are uh...pon me...Help me, I'm muh-melting...I mean bur..." Lucy quickly withdrew and went back indoors to watch, as the 11:00 A.M. summer sunlight burned what was left of Lamia Asra-Pa Quintessa to dust.

Lisa embraced Lucy; Penny embraced Aggie; Layla and Meighan, after looking around awkwardly a moment, embraced each other. "Um, Meig? Hands above the equator, please. Nothing personal, but I'm not into you, and I'm still undera--ah, s**t."

Layla's profanity stemmed from Mr. Boodles, who had just come crashing in through the window with a shriek of white-hot rage and was now starting toward the group at the other end of the room.

"Oh, right," said Lisa. "The cat. Well, Luce, here's where we see just how brilliant your idea was."

Lucy raised an eyebrow. "But I still don't know what you're...Lis? What's happening to you?"

What was happening was that, as soon as she'd finished her last sentence, Lisa had shut her eyes and begun to concentrate. Okay. Think four legs, a tail, and fur. Think nasty, sharp teeth. Think wilderness. Think road runner--well, maybe not that last one. Feel yourself transforRRRRROWWWL! Running on all fours, she took a leap at the rather stunned cat and went for his throat.

"Oh God, I can't look," said Penny, turning away.

Mr. Boodles managed to get in a few superficial scratches before his attacker tore out his throat, howled in victory, and began to feast on the carcass. Aggie, dry-heaving at the rawly carnivorous display, turned aside too. When the coyote stripped the last of the meat from the Boodles-bones, she smacked her lips in contentment, lay down, closed her eyes, and slept. Within less than a minute, she reverted back to human form, no worse for wear except for two scratches on her left shoulder and a lightly bleeding gash on the back of her neck. Oh, and for being naked, a source of moderate embarassment when she awoke ten minutes later to find a male police officer standing over her, offering a blanket.

One week later, Lisa, Penny and Aggie were on a flight back to Belleville.

"What's the matter, sweetie?" said Aggie, looking beside her at the pouting Penny.

"Eh. I'm peeved at narrowly missing out on a Hollywood career, yet again."

Aggie rested her hand on Penny's. "I know, Pen. It sucks. I'm disappointed too. But there wasn't anything that could be done. The director was dead; the set was trashed; the investors pulled out and Meighan's taken a few months off for therapy. So I'm afraid our project is stuck in development hell."

"Coulda been worse," said Lisa, feet up on the back of the empty seat in front of her. "We coulda ended up in a different kind of hell. Or maybe heaven. If they existed, which they don't. The point is, we got out alive and in one piece. Also, I got schooled about the reality of magic and the supernatural, discovered a new power and made some important connections."

"Yeah, you and Luuuucy," said Aggie, grinning. "We barely saw you two for the rest of the week."

Lisa blushed. "Heh, yeah. Well, she--I mean we--earned it. I miss her already." She sighed as Penny gave her a sympathy arm-squeeze. "But I'm not talkin' just that kinda connection. Layla, for all her Goth Libby snobbery, will be a valuable professional ally for me in the future, not just because of the super-strength and speed that comes with her species, but also because she's got a good head on her shoulders. And she clearly feels bad about her responsibility for the mess and wants to make up for it somehow. Like an Angel or Spike, only without the wangst. We'll be keeping in touch."

After a few moments' silence, Aggie ventured a question that had been nagging at her. "Lisa? Do you remember anything from those few minutes you were...shape-shifted?"

"Nothin' clear, no. It was all kind of a red blur. I'm not sure I'd want to know the details of what I did in coyote-mode, given my whole I-do-not-slay spiel a short while before. But hey, this was a special case, and it got the job done. So. Not to change the subject, but what are we gonna do Saturday night?"

"Good question," said Penny. "Maybe we could go out to dinner for starters?"

"Sounds like a plan. I could really stand to dig my teeth into some thick, rare, meaty beef ribs."

Aggie reached for her air sickness bag.

Last edited by Alice Macher on Wed Nov 10, 2010 5:03 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby adamiani » Wed Nov 10, 2010 2:23 pm

Clap clap clap. :)

But then I always did like these big crossover comic events...
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Postby Alice Macher » Fri Dec 03, 2010 2:13 am

Issue #10

So there's been a lot of talk about how dark Penny and Aggie has become. Well, we here at Macher Comics got to thinking, why not follow our inspiration's lead and take the Thunderbolt Trickster into darker, edgier, grimmer and grittier territory? This is what we came up with: our first issue to ship without the Comics Code Authority seal of approval, and with a "Mature Readers" advisory. Oh, and chiaroscuro. Lots and lots of chiaroscuro...


I stare out the window of my derelict rathole apartment as the city pukes out its sooty skyline in front of me. Belleville. "Beautiful city." What a fuckin' joke. No one calls it that, though. They call it Cyn City, 'cause that's whose stompin' grounds it is.

Cyndi Kristoffer. Age seventeen. Homecomin' Queen. Runner-up in the Belleville High election. Gangster. Belleville has a mayor, sure, but Cyndi's the real boss of this shithole, and she never lets anyone forget it.

As if I could.

I cough up phlegm. Goddamn cigarettes an' hooch'll be the end of me, if one of Cyndi's goons doesn't get me first. And me, still tryin' to convince myself I'm some kinda super-powered individual. A "hero." Yeah, right. This town don't got no heroes. Only the scummy and...less scummy.

In my bed, a man stirs. The night I just spent with him was the closest I've known to joy since I took down Karen Duvall. Even though I did six months in juvie 'cause of it. Fuckin' game is rigged no matter how you play it. But this man, this stallion, this god showed me kindness and tenderness tonight.

Rich. He says his name is Rich. Age seventeen. Prostitute.

I run my hand through my pigtails, take another swig of rotgut and walk over to the bed, to wake him up. He doesn't respond. I listen for his breathing, feel for his neck pulse. Nothin'. He's been dead an hour, I figure.

Swear to the non-existent god, I'll find out who did this to you, Rich. I'll find out, and even if it's Cyndi goddamn Kristoffer herself, I'll break her neck, put out her eyes and piss in the sockets. Even if it means I'm--

Suddenly I'm hit with flashing blue light and whiny, ear-splitting sound. Is it the hallucinations again? I look out the window. Nah, it's cops.


A fuckin' frame-up. Figures. Well, they won't take me without a fight. I hurl myself out the window, swoop down low and take out as many of the pigs as I can before flying off, feeling no remorse. "To serve and protect," my ass. Only one they serve and protect in this town is Cyndi. Age seventeen.

Over the next forty-eight hours I scour the bars and wharfs for clues and leads. Bash in some heads. Head into some bashes. Finally, as the hallucinations threaten to burst through my skull again like tomato sauce from a hot pocket, I get wind that someone down at Pier Seven is tryin' to talk an innocent patsy into starvin' himself to death. I fly there fast as I can, and find Cyndi. She's got Stan Larson, age seventeen, prostitute, wasting away, cornered, foisting diet books, meal plans, laxatives and purgatives at him. I swoop down, scoop him up and, ignoring Cyndi's roars of white-hot rage, take him to an inpatient clinic across state lines. He'll be safe now. I won't. But that's okay. A young female super-powered individual dies. A young male prostitute lives. Fair trade.

And so on. You get the idea. Lots of cussing, fisticuffs, male prostitutes, automatic gunfire, cold-blooded torture, male prostitutes, gorn, reminders of everyone's age, revenge, male prostitutes, more frame-ups, Lisa's inevitable death in the electric chair, having at least saved some innocent male prostitute or another. But she'll be back in projected future issues, as a guest in some other grizzled antihero's story or whatever. Good times!
"Life doesn't wait forever." --Lisa Winklemeyer
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Postby sun tzu » Fri Dec 03, 2010 2:29 am

Cause this is MILLER! MI! LLER! Time!
It's full of grime, of prostitutes, rape and criminal slime!
Cause this is MILLER! MI! LLER! Time!
You're fighting for your SAN inside a Miller! Thriller! Of crime!

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Postby Alice Macher » Sat Dec 11, 2010 4:21 pm

Issue #11

Greetings, true deceivers! We received a great deal of feedback about our last issue, Cyn City, an experiment in grimdark comics. Unfortunately, much of the feedback was from angry parents, such as Jeremiah M. of Alleluia, Florida, who wrote: "I bought the latest issue of Thunderbolt Trickster as a first communion gift for my son. How dare you fill it with uncensored swears, brutal violence, gore and full-frontal nudity, much of it MALE?" (Here's a tip for free, Jerry: Next time you buy a comic, keep your eyes peeled for the phrases ADULTS ONLY, MATURE READERS, 18+, and NOT FOR SALE TO MINORS, all of which were found in big bold letters on the front cover of that issue, Einstein.) Then the PTA and church groups started in. Then there were the Senate Subcommittee hearings. In the end, we made the painful decision to abandon the controversial Cyn City storyline and return our flagship title to its roots as a family-friendly, all-ages comic. To that end, we proudly present our latest story...


Once there was a little girl named Lisa. That's what her family and friends called her. But to other little boys and girls and grown-ups, she was a super-powered individual known as the Thunderbolt Trickster. Can you guess why? That's right: she got her super-powers when a tricky coyote bit her and then lightning struck her. Oh, but you should never try to get bitten by a coyote or struck by lightning yourself! Ask Mother or Father for help first.

Lisa lived in the little town of Belleville with her sidekicks and best friends Penny and Aggie. When Penny and Aggie first met in school, they used to fight a lot. For example, one time Aggie called Penny "Worse than Shredder!" and sprayed her with her juicebox. That was not a very nice thing to do, was it? But then they learned, through the power of cooperation, to become friends. And the more they got to know each other, whether playing or helping Lisa on her adventures, the more deeply they liked each other. They would hold hands and hug. Hugging feels good, as children's TV teaches us. Sometimes they would have slumber parties, just the two of them.

Not all the girls in Belleville were good girls, however. There was Charlotte, who lived in an old, gloomy house with her mother. She enjoyed pancakes and playing in the toolshed. Other than that, she was very sad. And when she was sad, she would try to cheer herself up by doing bad things, such as smashing a classmate's puzzle box, and making a video where she said another girl had put a big, icky bug down the back of her shirt. (That was, of course, not true.) Sometimes she even hit people with her shoe! But none of these things made Charlotte happy. In fact, she would feel sadder than ever. Even when she made friends with a boy named Duane who tried teaching her to be good and play nicely with others.

Then there was Cyndi, a girl with lovely dark hair. She was a very naughty child indeed. She loved to play mean tricks on people for no reason other than finding it fun, such as holding hands with boys or girls and telling them she was their very special friend, only to go right ahead and hold another child's hand, sometimes right in front of them. Or, she would make a play-date with several children at the same time and place, and not show up for any of them. Once she tried to talk a girl into entering the pool and getting her nice new clothes wet, but the girl only got in up to her belly button before Penny stopped her. Another time, she broke up a party with a stink bomb. Yet another time, she tricked a boy into saying he'd have a play-date with her on a lazy Saturday afternoon, when he was already having regular play-dates with another girl. Oh, she was a nasty girl, that Cyndi!

One day, Cyndi disappeared. Lisa, although she didn't like her much, went looking for her, because that's what a hero does. With her sidekicks' help, she questioned many children and grown-ups. None of them admitted to having kidnapped her, nor knew who did it.

"This is a very tough case indeed," said Lisa. "I must put on my thinking cap." So she did, a beautiful, bright blue-and-red cap with a red thunderbolt symbol, and went to look for clues. Sure enough, just outside the school playground she found Cyndi's favourite Big Wheel® turned on its side. Beside it, she found a foam sword with a tiny cross on the hilt. Stuck to the sword was a thin tuft of dark hair.

Hum, thought Lisa. Who do I know that has a toy sword like that? She thought and thought. I know: Charlotte. I'll go visit her at home.

Lisa had to knock, with the big wooden knocker, on the front door of Charlotte's house for a long time before someone opened the door. It was her mother. She was a mean-looking woman in a long black tent of a dress, buttoned all the way down. She looked like a witch. Not a good witch, such as you may see at your local crafts fair or Celtic folk music festival, but an evil witch, like the make-believe ones in the storybooks. But she wasn't one, really. Don't be scared, now. It's all right.

"Go away, you little brat," said Charlotte's mother. "I don't want to buy any of your cookies. All I need for a snack is my special Jesus juice."

"Oh, no, Mrs. Sims," said Lisa politely. "I'm not a girl scout. I just wanted to speak to Charlotte, please. Is she home?"

"No. She said she was taking the bus to Kittentown with a friend, to play with the kittens. That sounded harmless enough to me, so I let her. Now go away!"

As Lisa was saying "Thank you, Mrs. Sims," the woman slammed the door.

Lisa found Penny and Aggie and told them what she'd learned.

"Oh, won't you take me to Kittentown?" said Penny. "I love kitties, and they have so many cute ones there." She began to bounce up and down, singing her favourite song:

Soft kitty, warm kitty,
Little ball of fur,
Happy kitty, sleepy kitty,
Purr, purr, purr.

"I also love kitties," said Aggie. "May I come too?"

"Of course you both may come," said Lisa. "But remember, you're my sidekicks, and we're there to find Charlotte and Cyndi first, and only afterward to play with the kitties. Let's go!"

Lisa, Penny and Aggie had a surprise in store for them. True, Charlotte had indeed kidnapped Cyndi from the playground by hitting her with the foam sword until she agreed to go with her on the bus. Once there, she had tied Cyndi up with yarn she'd stolen from the kittens' playthings, and gave her a lecture.

"I used to do bad things, like you, Cyndi," said Charlotte. "But unlike you, I didn't have fun doing them. I felt guilty and sad. Then I became friends with Duane, who told me I'd be happier if I did good things. So I tried that. But I was still unhappy. You know why? Because I saw you doing bad things, some even worse than what I've done, and not feeling sad about it. In fact, it made you happy. And that made me angry. So I figured that if I snatched you away to the last place anyone would look for either of us, I could make you see that it's bad to be bad. And then you'd be good. And I'd be happy, and we could both play with the kitties until we had to go home for supper. So that's what I've done. Now hush while I read to you from the Bible."

But Cyndi was not impressed. "Charlotte, jump into the pool with all your clothes on," she said.

"Okay," said Charlotte, and she did so. "Aaaa! The water is cold, and my clothes are all wet. I could just die of embarassment."

"Hee," said Cyndi. "Oh, don't look so sad, little Charlotte. I'll send Duane to jump in the pool after you. But first, I shall escape and coax all the kittens in Kittentown into the pool, one by one. How they'll hate to be suddenly all sopping wet!"

"Oh, no you don't!" said a voice behind her. Cyndi turned. It was Lisa, with Penny and Aggie close behind her, and Duane too. "You'll not lay a hand on a single kitty. Cyndi, you have been very, very naughty, and it's time to stop."

"That's--splutter--what I've been telling her," said Charlotte.

"Hush, Charlotte. Come out of the pool, dry off in the shed, and put on these clean, dry clothes before you catch cold." Charlotte did so, after which Duane handed her some hot cocoa. He smiled at Charlotte. Charlotte smiled back. Maybe I can be happy after all, she thought, if I treat others who've been bad with kindness instead of more badness. "You're a good boy, Duane," she said. "Can we still be friends?"

"Only if we're the best," said Duane, taking her hand.

"Aww, Thunderbolt Trickster," said Cyndi. "You've ruined all my fun."

"Fun?" said Lisa. "Would you like me to toss you in the pool, and see if it's as much fun for you as it was for poor Michelle and Charlotte?"

"No!" said Cyndi, bursting into tears. "Anything but that. I'm so sorry, everyone. I'll be good."

"That's all I wanted to hear," said Lisa, smiling. "Now, who wants to go play with the kitties?"

"I do!" shouted everyone.

And they did.


NEXT: Winsome Prison Jews
Last edited by Alice Macher on Sat Dec 11, 2010 6:25 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby Mung » Sat Dec 11, 2010 4:41 pm

And Charlotte and Duane were merged in the redundant character smoosher, and had great enjoyment self-satisfying with kitties from that day forth.
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Postby Alice Macher » Mon Dec 20, 2010 10:04 pm

Issue #12, as in days of Christmas

As requested by sentora and Mung...


Live from the Belleville Women's Correctional Facility

"All right, inmates, settle down now, settle down. Thank you. As warden, I appreciate your not rioting while our special guest faced a delay on the way here. Unfortunately, as one of the few American super-powered individuals who's both single and childless, she's on call this Christmas Eve, so it can't be helped. And now you've all been searched, put your hands together for Belleville's own Annoyingly Amazing Thunderbolt Trickster...LISA!"

Thank you! Thank you! Woo! Thanks so much. Thanks. Okay, that's great. Please sit down. That's enough now. Hey, I said... [*SONIC WHISTLE BLAST*] Thank you. It's great to be here with you tonight, on this eve of the holiday in which we commemorate--on a date conveniently matching that of the former Saturnalia--the birth of the modern retail blitz and the animated family TV special. And oh yeah, the birthday of one of the most inspirational and influential men who ever lived...Sir Isaac Newton, going by the Julian calendar.

Whoa, that last one bombed. Did I offend anyone, or was it you don't know who Newton was? Or was it the Julian thing? Okay, the last one, gotcha. Seriously though, let's hear it for the most successful Nice Jewish Boy in history (even if he never got married like his mother wanted)...the peace-talkin', water-walkin', "The Man"-dissin', surname-missin', desert-rangin', bread-'n'-water changin', death-defyin', Heavenward-flyin' Hebrew homie...Jesus of Nazareth! YEAHHHHH!

'K, now I've won you over...sorry for being late. As the warden says, I'm on call, and just as I'd changed into this here sexy Santa costume--thank you, I knew you sapphic types, situational and otherwise, would dig it--and was on my way over here, I looked up at the sky...and there it was, the way the cops at all levels get my attention...the Bolt-Signal. True story: the first engineer hired to design it got sacked, because it somehow projected two thunderbolts by mistake, which made it look like the "SS" logo and freaked out some of my fellow Jewish Bellevillites during its test run.

Anyway. I gave the warden a heads-up, then headed for police headquarters. The commissioner ushered me into her office. "Sorry, Lisa," she said, "I know you've somewhere else to be, but we have a bit of a situation downtown. There's a bunch of elementary-school kids who've somehow gained the ability to deface private and city property just by huddling together and waving their arms around. At first it was cute, y'know, spiffing up dinky little trees and bushes with Christmas lights. But now their apparently crazed ringleader is having them go around 'waving,' onto fences, store windows and houses of worship, such inflammatory slogans as 'BOW DOWN TO THE GREAT PUMPKIN LEST HE SMITE THEE,' 'AND YOU SHALL KNOW US BY THE TRAIL OF PULP'--that sort of thing. We're thinking apocalyptic cult. So before the Feds get involved and we have another Waco on our hands--"

"I'm on it," I said, flying off at super-speed while the commish said, "Hey, where'd she go? And why's that window open?" So I tracked the little shi--er, the troubled youths down to the baseball field, where I found them making some kid stand on the mound while they chanted "Blockhead! Blockhead!" and lobbed baseballs at him, somehow making all his clothes come off. I ain't no theologian, but I figure that was some sort of crude sacrificial ritual, like in Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery."

"Stop that," I shouted, whereupon this blond kid whipped out a seemingly harmless toy piano and started playing a jazz piece that made me start dancing like a spaz. Curses! I thought. Some sort of...mind control...must...resist... Summoning my will, I put on my cap with the protruding copper thunderbolts, thereby blocking the signal from my brain. I smashed the piano, grabbed all the delinquents, stuffed them into a nearby doghouse, which conveniently had airholes--that looked a bit like airplane machine gun bullet holes, but whatev--and took 'em to the police station. Except for the ringleader, who's now staying at the Belleville Psychiatric Hospital, Youth Wing.

That ugly business taken care of, I started off to see you girls, when my private hands-free cell rang. It was FBI Agent Pat McBell. I'd worked with him on the Kristoffer assault case. Hm? Yes, Brandine Spuckler, I see you. (See Ish #3. --Ed.) Hi. Keepin' outta trouble, I hope? Anyway. McBell told me to meet him back at the station, so off I went.

McBell, flanked by Agent Carter and the commissioner, filled me in. "Lisa, we just got a call from Washington. Seems the president was really distraught over the Dems' midterm election losses. He went missing late this afternoon, leaving only a note on the Oval Office desk saying it'd have been better if he'd never been born. Somehow, despite all the FBI, CIA, NSA and Secret Service detail on the case, there was no sign of him for three hours. And then, just now, the president was spotted atop the Washington Monument. How he got up there, we've no idea, but we think he might jump, so we don't want to risk bringing in copters, or anything that would give him advance warning."

"Lemme have a crack at him," said Carter. "I'm a cowboy cop who doesn't play by the rules. I'll rustle 'im up good."

"Carter, shut up," said McBell. "Honestly, you got lucky once, six years ago, when you shut down that Kristoffer girl's unlicensed ant brothel without a search warrant, and it stuck. Ever since then, it's been 'Crimefighting isn't a game' this, 'Shoot first, ask questions later' that--"

"Heya, Pat," I said, "what about the bit with the suicidal president?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah. So that's where you and your super-speed come in, Lisa. Get me? --Hey, where'd she go? And what's that window doing open?"

Seconds later, I was on top of the Washington Monument, holding the startled prez tight. "How--?" he said. "Are you an angel, needing to save a life in order to earn your wings?"

"Uh, no, Mr. President. I don't need no stinkin' wings. I'm the Thunderbolt Trickster. Geez, you'd think they'd brief you on...Never mind. So, you think everyone would've been better off if you'd never been born? Let me show you something."

And I did. Using my eleven-dimensional alternate timeline explorer (courtesy of CERN), I showed him a world in which Barack Obama had never existed, as a result of which Sarah Palin became president in 2008 (well, technically, it was McCain, but he lasted like two weeks before he died of fright during a 'Nam flashback. Or so Palin claimed. The next eight years saw all federal mottoes--the Great Seal, the currency and such--replaced with "You betcha!", a disastrous quagmire of a war with Vatican City over the pope's pronouncement that condoms might sorta maybe possibly be okay in one specific circumstance, and Bristol winning every season of Dancing with the Stars. Then in 2016, with the Dems still unable to find a decent nominee, Palin's VP Tharqa Sunflower took office. As she spent all her time, against her advisors' and cabinet's judgement, playing pranks on former high school classmates, her administration was completely unprepared for Wikileaks acquiring the bomb and holding the federal government hostage.

"All right, all right," Obama pleaded at this point, "I've seen enough. Now let's go back to our universe. I've got a nation to lead. You'll get your wings for sure now, Clarence. Merry Christmas, Washington Monument! Merry Christmas, Capitol! Merry Christmas, you wonderful old White House!"

"It's Lisa, not Clarence, Mr. President," I said, "and you're welcome." I returned him to the Lincoln Bedroom, where First Lady Michelle (whom I'd called ahead) was waiting for him in a red-and-green silk teddy, and flew back to Belleville. I was halfway there, when my private cell rang again."#@!$ me!" I said.

This time, it was the president of INTERPOL on the line. "Lisa, we just got a distress signal from Mrs. Claus at the North Pole. Someone waylaid Santa and stole his reindeer and sleigh, with all the presents."

"Oh no!" I said. "That means there'll be no Christmas for the third of the world's population that actually celebrates it. Unless, of course, they fall back on going to church, inviting the hungry into their homes, that sorta thing."


"Okay, okay, don't get your boxers in a bunch. I'm on it." I flew due north until I reached Santa's workshop, where I found St. Nick lying groaning in bed. Mrs. Claus and some elves took turns applying cold compresses to his head and keeping him from falling asleep. "Santa," I said, "it's me, Lisa Wink--"

"Ho ho ow goddamnit," he said. "Oh do pardon me, that's just the pain talking. I know who you are, child. You've been a very good girl this year, helping so many people with your powers and jolliness."

"Heh. I try," I said, blushing. "Santa, did you see who knocked you out?"

"Yes. And I believe you know her. It was...Cyndi Kristoffer. Oh, she's a naughty one, that child. When my self-regenerative abilities kick in within the next few hours, she'll be receiving a big-ass lump of coal in her stocking, yes indeedy."

"Uh...yeah," I said, "I'll make sure she gets it in jail or the bughouse. For now, I'ma need the use of your Orwellian surveillance equipment so I can track her down...melodramatic pause...and save Christmas."

So I tracked Cyndi to the airspace over Reykjavík, Iceland. Being unused to driving a sleigh, and not exactly being kind to the poor reindeer, she hadn't managed to get far.


"F*** that, Blunderdolt Dickster," she said. (Yeah, evil schemes, she's good at; insults, not so much.)

I zoomed up close to her. "Cyndi, be reasonable. You can't possibly play with all those toys, wear all those clothes, and spend all those gift certificates yourself. And despite the Christmas wishes of many a naughty kid, I'm pretty sure there are no automatic weapons in that sack."

"Don't be an idiot, Stinklemeyer," she said. "I don't want the presents for myself."

"Yeah, 'cause no one's been calling me that since kindergarten. So...what, then? Gonna sell them on the black market? Or do you still think you can win Sara's heart somehow? Sorry, but if your boobs didn't sway her, I don't think two billion gifts will."

"I said, I don't want the presents. I just want no one else to have them. So as soon as I find a suitable volcano, I'm dumping 'em. With luck, that'll somehow reactivate it, too, and really ruin the locals' Christmas. Or Animistic Religion Day, or whatever. Hee."

"Of course," I said. "What was it Penny once remarked? You don't want to win; you just want to make everyone else lose."

"Smart girl, that Penny. Unlike you. I thought you had, like, other powers besides flight and the voice thing. Why are you wasting time talking?"

"Because right now I don't need to do anything else. They don't call me Trickster for nothin', y'know."

"What d'you--Hey, where am I? Where'd all the stars go?"

"Welcome to my wormhole, Cyndi. You're not in Kansas, I mean Reykjavik, I mean on Earth anymore. You're in a bubble universe I discovered when dicking around with my eleven-dimensional CERN thingie. A very circumscribed and empty universe, at that. No one here to manipulate, to mess with, to kill. Just you, the reindeer...and me. No, don't waste your energy, or the reindeer's, trying to fly back out. I control the vertical. I control the horizontal. Either you come back to Earth--and justice--with me, or I take everything and leave you here."

Cyndi swallowed hard and handed the reins over to me. "You've won this time, hero," she said.

I nodded and held the reins between my teeth while I bound and gagged her, and not in a fun way. And with a merry twitch of my nose, it was off to Earth, with stops at the North Pole and the Belleville Institute for the Criminally Insane. And I am. Merry Christmas...barely, in my case.

Thank you, thank you. You're too kind. Please...please don't throw underwear, especially if you've been wearing it. Hey, you in the third row, put those boobs away; I'm flattered, but not interested. Now listen up, I came here to do a concert. Where's the prison jazz combo? Ah, cool. Maestro? Wait, it's hot in here with all you people; better strip down to my Santakini. That's better. Get a good look, ladies, 'cause that's all you're getting. Oh, and the YouTube/Vimeo rights are mine. Now then: Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree, for me...

Last edited by Alice Macher on Tue Dec 21, 2010 1:18 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Postby sentora » Tue Dec 21, 2010 12:56 am

*hands Alice her 'Sentora will dance at wedding coupon' to cash in at the appropriate date.*
Promise tomorrow to endure today.
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Postby sun tzu » Thu Dec 23, 2010 2:29 pm

That was fittingly awesome. "Made of love and win" indeed. :D
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Postby Alice Macher » Tue Mar 15, 2011 1:40 pm

Issue #13

It's been a while, True Deceivers, but following a protracted lawsuit over creators' rights (apparently we actually have to pay creators; who knew?) we are BACK with another tantalizingly terrific tale of your favourite super-powered individual... Lisa, the Thunderbolt Trickster. As a special thanks for being so patient with us, we hereby present a crossover with Random Strip Manip Comics, entitled...


The crossover begins in Random Strip Manip Comics, as follows:

Part 1: Neko-mancy
Part 2: Never Say "Duck You" to a Witch Doctor
Part 3: The. Agenny. Of. Staggered. Speech.

...and continues right here in The Annoyingly Amazing Lisa: Thunderbolt Trickster, with:

Part 4: Do What Thou Winklemeyer Shall Be the Whole of the Law

"Happy 18th, Penny," said Lisa, handing her sidekick a gift box. Penny, seated on her bed with Aggie and Lisa on either side, unwrapped it and peered inside.

"Shoes!" said Penny with a gasp. "OMG, how did you know? No, seriously, these are gorgeous. Thank you."

She hugged Lisa and promptly tried them on, walking around while Aggie wolf-whistled and Lisa, in her best attempt at a Bogart imitation, said, "That dame had gams that went all the way to the top and came back for seconds."

"O...kay," said Penny, sitting back down and leaning on Aggie's shoulder. "Thanks so much again, Lis. We missed you at my party last weekend."

"Yeah, like I said, I'm sorry I couldn't make it. I was investigating allegations that the CEO of an MMORPG company was keeping beta-test players imprisoned naked in tubes and generating game environments out of their brains. But I was working with incomplete and vague intel, and couldn't find any evidence. Not even the old 'dangle the bastard out the window by his feet' trick worked. Dude has no emotions whatsoever. Oh well." Lisa rolled onto her back and tossed her head, upside down, over the edge of the bed. "Anyway, you guys said you have a case for me?"

"That's right," said Aggie. "Remember what Charlotte told us about how Cyndi somehow grew cat whiskers, suffered a psychotic break and thought Charl was some sort of doctor?"

"Oh, right, that was two weeks ago, wasn't it? I warned Kristoffer about messing with the leftover radium in the school science lab. I had a little chat with Giuliani, after senior assembly that day, about basic safety protocols and, y'know, federal laws and such. Put a bit of a scare into 'im. But then he says I always freak him out a bit."

", Cyndi..." said Aggie.

"Sorry. So how did Charlotte get her off her case again?"

"Well, under questioning from the ice princess here and myself, she said she pulled out of her head the first bullcrap story that came to mind. Something about a mad magician from Northampton, England who can cure anything. Apparently the previous day she'd overheard Jack and Katy-Ann talking about Alan Moore and just rolled with it, but didn't mention his name, just to be on the safe side."


Penny sighed. "Turns out Charlotte, once again, caused trouble even without meaning to. Turns out there is a mad sorceror living there. Not Moore--he mostly just likes to creep out his public with snake-puppet-god worship and stuff--but someone else, known only as 'the Magus.' And Cyndi found him. How, I don't know."

Lisa flipped right side up. "OhmiFSM, and she stole his power?"

Aggie snorted and shook her head. "Oh God, don't even-- No. Nothing so dramatic. She got him to cure her of her whiskers and came home."

"So?" said Lisa, arching an eyebrow. "What's the big, then?"

"The 'big' isn't Cyndi; it's Karen. Oh, and by 'big' I don't mean--"

Penny rolled her eyes. "We know what you don't mean, P.C. World. So apparently--as Cyndi confessed when I threatened to expose her sordid history with a deposed Mid-East dictator--Karen got into her head that she had to get Marshall back, and Cyndi told her about Magus Man. She left for the U.K. a week ago, but unlike Cyndi, she never came back. Hasn't been seen or heard from since."

"So?" said Lisa. "Isn't that a case for Scotland Yard or some such? Why--and I'm not just sayin' this because on my personal 'c u next tuesday' scale she's somewhere between the RIAA and Cyndi--why should I need to get involved?"

"Because," said Aggie, showing Lisa her scrapbook, "it isn't just Karen herself who's disappeared. It's any and all images of her. And, as her parents showed Penny and me, when you write her name like this--so--it goes blurry after a few seconds."

Lisa stared at the Karen-less photos and the blurry inking of her name. "Hm," she said at last. "Good thing that vampire adventure of ours (see Ish #9 -- ed.) taught me that magic and the supernatural are real after all. So I've been hitting the books." She got up off the bed, adjusted her stripey socks, and stretched. "Okay, sidekicksters, here's my Super-Powered Individual VISA card. Book yourselves a flight to Heathrow for two days' time and then phone the school office. Meet me at my place in an hour. We got ourselves a warlock to whack."

--To be continued--
Last edited by Alice Macher on Tue Aug 09, 2011 3:53 pm, edited 2 times in total.
"Life doesn't wait forever." --Lisa Winklemeyer
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Postby Pink Freud » Tue Mar 15, 2011 6:26 pm

YES! Is this high in fat and calories, because I'm lovin' it.
Said he'd come to save the world from destruction and pain, but I said how can you save the world from itself?
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Postby Alice Macher » Tue Mar 29, 2011 9:35 pm


Part Five: Magick Chick

When Penny and Aggie dropped by the Winklemeyers' an hour later and made their way up to Lisa's room, they expected to find the bed and floor strewn with the usual jumble of Humphrey Bogart, RDJ, Daniel Radcliffe, John Lennon, Topher Grace and Tobey Maguire photos. Instead, they found stacks of books--library and online printouts--with such titles as The Key of Solomon, The Goetia, The Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses, The Grimorium Verum, Magick Book 4 (Liber ABA), and Condensed Chaos. There was also a complete set each of Alan Moore's Promethea and Grant Morrison's The Invisibles. And about fifty whackillion pages of notes amongst them all.

"Holy," said Aggie, looking around. "You weren't kidding when you said you'd been hitting the books."

Lisa, on her stomach, put aside her copy of Principia Discordia, dug her legs out from under the bed and stood up. "Yeah, well. Gotta make up for lost time."

"So can you actually do any occult stuff?" said Penny, absently riffling the Thoth Tarot deck on Lisa's desk.

"Can I?" Lisa spun around, hands on hips. "Just watch. Penny, pick a number between one and twenty."

Penny thought for a moment. "Done."

"Now. What number is it?"

"Twelve," said Penny.

"That's absolutely correct!"

Penny and Aggie rolled their eyes and groaned.

"I keed, I keed," said Lisa once she'd stopped giggling at her own joke. "Okay. For SRS. Here's something I've been practicing." She fixed her eyes on both of them. "Look at each other. Now look at me. Now back at each other. Now back to me."

"Figures this would be yet another meme," said Penny to her girlfriend, under her breath.

"Shh!" said Lisa. "Both of you, look down. Back up. Where are you? You're in the Australian Outback, after dark, with the mage you wish you could be."

"Yes, Lisa," said Aggie, "we get it. Enough farting around and let's get down to--hey, why'd it get so dark and col--OH MY GOD."

"Is... is that a dingo?" said Penny. "And--and a kangaroo. Lisa, what've you done?"

"Relax," said Lisa in her SRS-voice. "Aggie, what's in your hand? Back at me. I have it: it's a seashell with two tickets to a Nickelback concert. Look again: the tickets are now pacifiers. Because Nickelback sucks."

Aggie would've taken umbrage, but she was too busy trying to recall how to set her lower jaw back in place.

"This isn't possible," said Penny, watching a baby koala climb a tree.

"Anything's possible," said Lisa, "when you're a trickster and have learned a little magic. We're in my room." And so they were.

Penny and Aggie both took a few moments to rebuild their shattered sense of reality. Then Penny said, "Did you really learn how to do...that from books?"

Lisa cleared space on her bed for the three of them and, sitting down, motioned for them to do the same. "Yes and no. Books teach you theory, show you how everything in the universe is connected, get you to think in signs and symbols. And depending on which book you're reading, there's also a lot of crap about secrecy this and Lord-beseech-thee that and correct species of goat this. Fortunately, my super-fast brain can sift that stuff out in short order."

"Then how--?" said Aggie.

Lisa smiled and pointed to her head. "All in the mind, Agster. Not that all you have to do is 'clap your hands if you believe.' It's a liiiiitle more complicated than that, otherwise we'd all be going around depantsing each other for fun or whatever. What? Tell me you wouldn't at least be tempted. Anyway. Magic isn't hidden away in wands, crystals, feet-tripping robes or whatevs. The one must-have magical tool is the grey matter in your head."

"So um, question," said Penny. "However you're doing it, Lis, you've got a lot of magic power inside you. But so does the Northampton Magus. And although we don't know much about him yet, I'd guess he's been at this game a lot longer than you have, Ms. Strict-Materialist-Until-Recently. So--"

"So how're we gonna hand him his magical ass. That's a fair question. Been asking it myself, BTW, just so you--yeah. Well, it won't be easy. I don't think this case is gonna be solved with punchings and kickings. But not all of ours have been, have they?"

Her friends nodded.

"Besides, we're not alone. When you showed me that not only have images of Kren disappeared, but also her name goes all dissolvey just after you write it, I thought, to find Kren, we could use the help of--"

"Hold up. Who's 'Kren?'" said Aggie.

"Uh, the Ms. Congeniality 2010 we're trying to find, despite our better judgement? Kren Duvll... oh man. Now the letters of her name are vanishing even when we try to speak them. Well. That just means we'll need the services of my newest colleague sooner than ever."

NEXT: Her newest colleague
"Life doesn't wait forever." --Lisa Winklemeyer
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Postby WildfireDS » Tue Mar 29, 2011 10:36 pm

*cackles like an evil thing*

Awesome as usual, Alice! And thanks for writing.
"Everything I tell you is a lie. Every word I say to you is a trick. You will find no truth in me. You see, everything everyone tells you is a lie. The truth is always greater than the words we use to describe it" Traitor
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