VD & VD To Be

Back at PUDHQ, Pliers sat on a comfy chair in the lounge facing Doc.  Pliers' usual holey pantaloons and plaid pullovers were replaced with chainmail shirt and greaves.  Over these he wore a banner that looked a lot like a big, green smiley face.  Idly, he spun a carbonite staff shaped in the form of a gnarled branch in his right hand.

"Sure wish those other dudes would show up," he said.

"The remaining league members will arrive presently," Doc replied.  Doc had wrapped a shimmering deep blue cloak around his disc.  It barely touched the floor and was kept billowed outward slightly from the disc's exhaust.  On his head sat a pointy hat decorated with blinking lights.

"Your costume is totally cool," Pliers said.

"Thank you, Team Member Pliers," Doc replied.

"Your hat is really awesome," Pliers continued, "but I think you gotta tape it down or something.  It's slipping off your head."

"Nonsense," Doc snapped.  "This is an accurate recreation of Medieval magical clothing.  The 'hat' as you so eloquently name it is called a Hennin."

Pliers sat with his elbows on his knees, staring blankly at Doc as Doc kept adjusting his headgear.  "Who are you again?" Pliers asked.

"Really, Pliers, you should have read all the manuals I e-zipped to everyone.  Everything you need to know is in them."  Doc twirled a sucker-tipped digit in the air and pointed up.  "But, I understand how easy information somehow leaks from your memory cells, so I will reiterate the pertinent points for your edification."

"Yeah," Pliers said.  "Well I guess I could use some edufac...edofic..."

Doc rolled his eyes.  The motion shifted his hat and Doc pulled it tighter down over his ears.

"Should of used tape," Pliers muttered.

Doc squinted his eyes at Pliers for a moment.  "The word you seek is ed-i-fi-ca-tion.  And the information you somehow lost is that I am Pharznar, The Spectral Wizard of Blitsnit."  Doc ended his sentence with an odd rise in tone, almost as if he asked a question.

***[The Sphincter Wizard of Bullshit]***

"Big deal," Pliers replied.  "Wizards in VD & VD  version 44 aren't worth crap.  You might as well be the Sphincter Wizard of Bullshit."  Pliers' face broke into a goofy grin.  "Damn, that was a good one."

"Ha!" Doc reached into a nearly-invisible pocket and pulled out a small box with an array of buttons on the top.  "With this, I shall circumvent those pesky restrictions."  He held the item up in the air and raised his voice.  "Prepare yourself for the most magnificent and scientifically sound enhancements to Virtual Dungeons and Virtual Dragons since the Darkest Ages, when spell components had to be kept in bags and player characters were limited to a paltry handful of spells which had to be memorized day after day..."

"Hey!" Pliers blurted, jumping to his feet.  "That's illegal."

At that moment, PB and Bullet strode into the lounge.  Apparently accidentally (but we know better), PB managed to stroll beneath the air conditioning duct, which was blowing conditioned air and coincidentally brushing PB's golden hair in distinct rippling waves, giving the ardent observer the impression he was walking against a small, yet stable, breeze.  Bullet followed directly behind PB, goose-stepping as always.

"What's illegal?" PB asked, grinning like a chimp in heat...with golden locks of hair.

"Doc can't take future stuff into the arena," Pliers said, pointing at the box in Doc's hand.

PB spun on his left heel and planted himself in Pose #12 (Radiance of Elan), facing Doc.  The light from the bulbs in the ceiling glinted off the mirror-like armor he wore.  From his neck down to his toes, the plates shifted smoothly and soundlessly with every motion.  When he placed his armored hands upon his armored hips with a clink, he narrowed one eye.

"So, Doc," he said.  "Planning on cheating again?  I thought you were smarter than that."

"Do not insult my superior intelligence," Doc huffed.  "My plans fully anticipate discarding this bit of electronics long before we clamber into the arena."

"Don't be such a jerk," Bullet said.  "Ve vill not haff fun if you screw zis up like last time."  Bullet crooked a gloved finger at Doc and squinted his un-monocled eye in suspicion.  The air-conditioned air ruffled his kilt ever-so-slightly.

"Now, how can a remote control unit possibly damage our enjoyment vector?" Doc asked.

PB quickly snatched the remote from Doc's hand before he could react.  "Well," PB mused.  "If it's just a remote for the vid, then we should probably pull up the Virtual Gamer's channel to see if  Avast Ye Hardy Gamers is playing.  We could probably use their advice."

"Oh, no," Doc said, reaching for the remote.  "The station is currently showing reruns of Blogsnord Battle Grounds, which have nothing..."

"Really...hey, what's this?"  PB pulled the control closer to his face with an intense look of concentration.  "What's that brown button for?  I've never seen a brown button on these remotes."

"Brown?  Well, that's..um..it's sort of a channel jumper thing that..um..."  Doc sputtered away into silence and shrugged.

PB pressed it and a large plate of fried chicken, Blogsnord jerky, gremble fruit, Twinkies, and a chocolate bar appeared in front of him.  Before he could recover from his surprise, the plate crashed to the ground, flinging bits of food everywhere and mostly all over his shiny armor, now decidedly un-shiny.

PB's eyes widened at the sight of his soiled armor.  His upper lip twitched for a moment.  "Channel jumper, huh?" he said.

"Now, really," Doc implored.  "You cannot expect me to survive on that detestable Medieval fare which you humans call food.  My metabolism operates at a higher level and if I do not attain enough vital sustenance, I fear my organs will begin to atrophy...just like that time when we played VD & VD with the girls from Accounting."

Pliers grabbed his staff and fiercely struck the ground.  Everyone started in surprise and looked at him.

"Higher level?  Dude, you told me your metabolism ran really slow, which was why you couldn't smoke that doob, cause you said you would, like, freeze in time or something."

Doc glanced at PB.  PB looked Doc in the eye and raised an eyebrow.  Bullet's face sprouted a wide grin.  Pliers' face remained steadfast, even after his eyes seemed to lose focus.

"Oh, for the sake of all that's intelligent, PB!" Doc said.  "Are you going to believe that imbecile?"

"Well, he did seem to be rather vehement about calling you a liar."  PB glanced back at Pliers, who remained staring at a spot far away from anywhere near, his face firmly pinched in determination.  For a moment, PB thought Pliers may have actually had a coherent thought.  Then he noticed Pliers leaning away from his staff, farther and farther.

"...tomes to make of a bluer...forgot the under bit...needle nose," Pliers mumbled.

"Well, mostly," PB added.

Bullet stepped forward and held out a gloved hand.  "Give zat device to me, herr PB," he said.  "I vill lock it up properly."

Keeping his eyes on Doc, PB handed Bullet the remote control.  "I suppose that was all you had up your sleeve?" he asked Doc.

"Really, PB," Doc said with a sniff, folding his arms across his chest.  "Am I not a valued member of our infamous League?  Have I not proven, time and again, my loyalty and devotion to the success of our endeavors?"

"Do we have to search you?" PB said, taking a step toward Doc.

"All right," pouted Doc.  "I don't need your infestation-ridden hands groping my privates."

Several minutes later, the four league members left the lounge for the arena, leaving behind a small pile of non-Medieval devices, including three ion pistols, an assortment of doughnuts, a bag of Cheezies, a portable campsite (including the latest Fire-U-Up smokeless roasting pit), a signal flare, two mobile teleport pads (PB never found out why he needed two), and the VD & VD Cheater's Guide For Morons.