Armachedder (The Ultimate Cheese) - A Highlandish Story by Joanne Madge (j0lander@juno.com) --------------------------------------------- ***SPOILER ALERT!*** ***SPOILER ALERT!*** ***SPOILER ALERT!*** If you have not seen the season six episode, ARMAGEDDON and do not want it spoiled, stop reading now! This is #3 of three parodies I'm writing based on the AAArg arch. The first - LARKANGEL, and the second - AVATART are archived at Ann Fountain's wonderful website: http://www.seventh-dimension.simplenet.com/. Many apologies for the delay between the first two parts and this one. My computer died, probably in protest of being forced to write the first two, and had to be replaced. Good-bye, Mac, hello Windoze! S P O I L E R S ! ! ! ! DISCLAIMER: Highlander and its characters belong to Rysher. No infringement intended, no profit being made. This is a work of parody. -------------------------------------------- The spring sun shone down on the quiet graveyard, on the few scattered markers set some distance from the consecrated ground near the church; but mainly it shone off the balding pate of a priest kneeling by the newest grave. A priest whom - thanks to a last minute casting decision - bore no resemblance whatsoever to actor Gareth Thomas, thus short-circuiting all the "Blake's Seven" jokes I wanted to write, which at least half the audience wouldn't have gotten anyway so perhaps it's for the best. Uh.... where was I? Oh yeah, so this priest was kneeling by this fresh grave and he started talking to it. "Oh, Bubby," he sighed sadly. "Why did you do it, Bubby? You had so much to live for, Bubby. Do you think the audience knows your name, yet, Bubby? Oh! BUBBY!!" He buried his face in his hands. Before you could say, "What the hell does this have to do with Highlander?" Dunkin' MacClod walked up behind the priest and respectfully cleared his throat. "Father....?" "Ahhh!" The priest tumbled backwards away from the grave. "Darn!" Dunkin' helped him up. "Sorry, I've been really bad about that lately." "Dunkin', my boy!" The priest shook his hand vigorously, suddenly dry- eyed. "So good of you to come." Dunkin' smiled down on him. "It's good to see you, too, my old friend.... who took over this church after Darius died four years ago and whom I've grown close to and have come to for advice ever since, even though this is the first time the nice folks watching at home have ever seen or heard of you." He stopped to take a breath and noticed the grave for the first time. "Hey, neat!" He pointed at the headstone. "You've got one of those, too! Mine says 'Itchie'." The priest shook his head sadly. "Poor, poor Bubby. He was my brother, you know." "Well, no, I didn't, but...." "His name was Bubby." "Well, yeah, that I had fig...." "POOR, poor Bubby!" He lowered his head. Mac patted him on the back. "Man, that's a bummer. How did you kill him?" The priest's head shot up. "I didn't! He killed himself!" Dunkin' stared at him blankly for a moment. "Oh." Then he perked up and grinned. "Ohhh.... right!" He winked. "I understand completely. You were a weapon. I was too, you know." It was the priest's turn to stare blankly. "Uh.... never mind. What can I do for you today, my boy?" "Well...." Dunkin' shrugged and gestured at the grave. "I *was* going to ask you if you could help me find out everything you could about this demon named 'Arryman, who used me as a weapon as I mentioned, and also keeps sort-of threatening and killing everybody I know." The priest looked hopefully back toward his nice, safe church. "Well, gee, Dunkin'...." "But since you've got your hands full right now with your brother and everything, I guess I could...." "Oh, QUITE right, my boy, quite right!" The priest started shoving Dunkin' towards the path that led to the exit. "Poor Bubby! So much to be done. POOOOOOR Bubby!" 'Y-yes, w-well...." Dunkin' stuttered as he was pushed along. "I guess I'll just.... I'll just...." "Come back ANYTIME, my boy!" the priest yelled over his shoulder as he left Dunkin' on the path and scurried away as quickly as his short legs would take him. "....leave, then. Rats." He was alone. ....or WAS he? "Kind of *foggy* in Paris this time of year," Dunkin' muttered. Sure enough, a strange, reddish fog was rising from the ground, swirling around his feet. Yep! You guessed it. "Haaaaa!" An ordinary looking gardener (if you didn't count the glowing red eyes) leapt from behind a nearby hedge and swung a large, sharp hoe at Dunkin's head. Startled, Dunkin' stuck out his arm defensively and neatly snapped the man's neck. He fell dead at Dunkin's feet. "Oops!" Dunkin' leaned over the ex-gardener. "Sorry 'bout that, pal." He looked around quickly to see if he was being observed. He wasn't. "Well.... uh, see ya!" He hurried out. ### Meanwhile, a much relieved priest was brushing the dirt off his hands and heading back towards the relative quiet of the church building. Suddenly the light shifted and his child brother Bubby was running and laughing ahead of him. "Bubby, wait!" the now much younger priest called after him. "The audience already *knows* we were brothers! What is the purpose of this flashback?" Just as suddenly, it was over. Bubby was gone. The priest sighed. "Darn, now I guess I have to place some kind of significance in that and agree to help Dunkin' after all." He walked despondently to the nearest phone. An hour later, a smiling Dunkin' was back at the church. "Boy, I don't know what changed your mind, but...." "Frankly, neither do I." "Er.... well, thanks!" They stood there and stared at each other. "Uh.... so," Dunkin' finally said. "How are you going to help me?" "Oh," The priest shrugged and pointed. "The library's over there. Knock yourself out." Dunkin' sagged a bit. "Well, what did you expect? An exorcism?" Dunkin' perked up. "Forget it." The priest shook his head. "You've already worked twenty different religions into this story, plus two you made up on the fly. Keep mine out of it!" "Rats." Dunkin' looked doubtfully towards the shelves of books. "But can't you even give me a CLUE?" The priest turned to go. "Find a new tailor." Dunkin' pouted. "Oh...." The priest made a disgusted face. "Okay, just *one* hint, then leave me alone already: Faith destroys evil!" He stomped away. Dunkin' blinked in awe. "Wow. That's so.... deep." He moved towards the books, then hesitated. "Er...." he called over his shoulder. "Faith in WHAT?" ### After exhausting ten whole minutes with the books, a discouraged Dunkin' went back to the barge only to find a note from Joe telling him to meet him at a cave.... uh, somewhere. Shortly they were standing together before the huge entrance in the stone walls of.... wherever they were. "Impressive, isn't it?' Joe asked. "Wowww!" agreed Dunkin'. "How old is this place?" "Pre-Roman," Joe answered, beaming with pride. "Most likely from the Deux Ex Machina era. It's some kind of holy sight, or something. Watchers just kind of tripped conveniently over it." "The opening alone is big enough to be an airplane hanger," Dunkin' observed. "Go figure." "And look!" Dunkin' pointed at the ancient stone wall to his left. "Not five steps from the entrance, some miraculously un-eroded, un-faded sequential drawings depicting how 'Arryman was defeated by an Immortal two- thousand years ago!" Joe chuckled warmly. "Imagine. And there you were, stumbling around blindly for two and a half episodes, then 'poof', here's a big, huge...." "Yeah, point made, Duhson." "Full color instruction guide just SITTING here!" "Okay, Joe." "Boy, you must feel like a *total* jerk." Dunkin' gritted his teeth. "So what's it SAY?" "Uh...." Joe examined the drawings. "I think it says that the pre-Romans were lousy artists. I mean, stick figures.... really." "No, wait! I understand this." Dunkin' pointed at the drawings. "This Immortal guy loses his sword and defeats 'Arryman!" He frowned. "Hey! I already lost my sword ages ago. What gives?" "Hmm...." Joe rubbed his chin. "Guess we still need to do some more research after all. "Ugh!" Dunkin' turned and headed out. "For an action series this sure is getting DULL!" "Sorry, buddy!" Joe called, but Dunkin' kept going. He wandered to a nearby pub and slouched, totally defeated, in front of a TV in the corner showing old American reruns with badly done subtitles. A few minutes later, he actually noticed what was on. "Whoa!" He leaned forward and started watching in earnest. ### Meanwhile, back at the church.... What do you mean, WHY? Whose story is this anyway? Meanwhile, back at the CHURCH, our new/old friend the priest entered his side of the confessional box to start the day's session of.... well, confessions! He slid his little window open. "You wish to confess?" he asked automatically. "Oh, yesssss!" Kroneold hissed from the other side. He chuckled evilly. The priest yawned. "Do go on." Kroneold blinked. "Aren't you stricken with terror?" The priest shrugged. "Should I be?" "I'm Kroneold!" "Who?" "KRONE.... er, no I guess that wouldn't mean anything to you." *POOF* "Brother!" "Bubby!" The priest clutched his hands to his chest, overcome with happiness. "You've come back to visit me! Oh, this means so much...." "No, no! You're supposed to be horrified!" "Why would I be, dear Bubby?" the priest asked. The demon huffed. "This is *not* working." *POOF* "Look at me now!" The priest looked. "My God, is that what *I* look like?" "This is the face of EVIL, pal!" 'Arryman shrieked. "Mortifying or what?" "I need a haircut." 'Arryman stomped his foot. "No, look! You are supposed to be utterly destroyed by this experience! You're supposed to come away from this so shattered that you want to kill yourself!" The priest pulled back slightly. "Why on earth would I do that?!" 'Arryman snarled in fury. "Because if you DON'T, we'll continue this crazy back and forth camera work until the entire audience gets seasick and PUKES!" "Oh." The priest sighed. "Very well, then." "More like it." ### Several hours of French cable later, Dunkin' emerged from the pub and headed straight for the church. "Father!" he called excitedly as he entered. "I have something wonderful to tell you! I.... hey!" He stopped and gaped in horror at the sight that greeted his eyes. The priest was crouched on the ground, 'Arryman by his side, holding a razor blade to his wrist. "What are you DOING?!" The priest shook his head as if coming out of a trance. "I.... uh, that is, I.... my, this is embarrassing." 'Arryman bared his teeth in rage. "Damn you, Dunkin' MacClod!" Dunkin' thrust his chin forward. "Oh, yeah?!" "Yeah!" The demon leapt to its feet. "Okay, that's it!" Dunkin' stomped up to 'Arryman until they were nose- to-nose. "You! Me!" He pointed at the door to the main chapel. "In there. Right now!" "Hahh!" The demon chortled. "You're on!" "After you." 'Arryman led the way as the two entered the large room. "Stay out here," Dunkin' warned his friend. "This could get.... ugly." He shut the door. The priest clapped his hands. "Oh, goody! There hasn't been a good fight in church for WEEKS!" ### FINALLY! After all he'd been put through.... After pain and humiliation and fear and the death of Itchie and threats to everyone else he cared about and almost three hours of nearly unbearable television for the viewers, at last Dunkin' was facing the cause of it all! Our brave hero took a deep breath, closed his eyes a moment, focused internally, opened them, turned towards his crouched-to-spring enemy and.... and.... and.... Er, AND.... And.... launched calmly into an ultra-super-slow kata! He stretched, he turned, he did a few gentle twists, he did some shadow-puppet things with his hands, and he didn't even take his shirt off this time! Understandably, 'Arryman was a tad annoyed. "Uh.... I think this is where we either fight or you do something extraordinarily clever to defeat me," he prodded MacClod. Dunkin' did a little spin and continued.... whatever he was doing. Well, folks, what can I say? After what seemed like several more HOURS of this, 'Arryman just sort-of, uh.... went up in a puff of red smoke. The first demon in history to be BORED TO DEATH! ### Dunkin' tipped his head back, emptying his whiskey glass in one gulp. "Well," Joe said from the other side of the bar. "I guess this is the 'anticlimax' part of the story, huh?" Dunkin' considered. "What was the last scene, then?" "Hmm, you've got a point." Joe pondered. "How 'bout we call this the 'wind down'?" Dunkin' shrugged. "Good enough." Joe poured them both another drink and joined his friend at the table. "So tell me, Mac. How *did* you defeat 'Arryman?" "Well," Dunkin' took another swig. "I had just about given up and had started watching junk on TV.... it was all there!" "Eh?" Dunkin' explained. "First I saw an old classic Trek rerun where this demon alien thingy was killing everyone by draining their emotions, or something, and Kirk, like, LAUGHED at it.... and it, like, died!" Joe just stared at him. "There's more!" Dunkin' said, warming up to the subject. "Then I saw this adorable puppet movie, 'James and the Giant Peach'.... and this Big Evil Whatever - only it wasn't red - ate this poor kid's parents and in the end all the kid had to do was IGNORE it and it couldn't hurt him! I mean, how cool! His parents were still dead which is kind of a drag, but...." "You've GOT to be kidding me," Joe snorted. "No!" Dunkin' clapped his hands gleefully. "So then I switched back and forth for awhile between 'Fame' and 'Saturday Night Fever'. And there were all these kids that had big problems, but all they had to do to solve their problems was DANCE!" Joe frowned. "So?" Dunkin' flung his arms out, sending the contents of his glass flying. "So! I realized that all I had to do to defeat the demon was to combine these wise solutions from the past!" Joe refilled Dunkin's glass. "Combine?" "Sure!" Dunkin's jumped up and did a brief demonstration of his kata. "Dancing, right? And while I did that, I also ignored 'Arryman. And after a few minutes of that, most of the folks watching at home were totally cracking up.... Voila'! Dancing, ignoring, laughing!" Joe shook his head. "Amazing." Dunkin' settled down in his chair immensely satisfied with himself. "Isn't it? You know, the Cabala says Armageddon will be fought in a single soul." "Does it?" Joe shrugged. "I was always taught it would be fought in the plain of Megiddo. Hence the name." Dunkin' made a face. "Geez, Joe, don't be so provincial!" "Sorry, what was I thinking?" Joe topped-off their glasses and raised his. "Toast?" Dunkin' raised his in return. "By all means!" "To.... Itchie?" Joe suggested. "Who?" "Er.... to faith!" Joe corrected. Dunkin' chuckled. "To faith.... and television!" "Whatever." Joe downed his drink. "So.... want your sword back?" "I was WONDERING where I'd put...." Suddenly, a reddish fog started rising from the floor. "Hey, what the heck!" Dunkin' exclaimed. "I thought I'd defeated 'Arryman!" "Not 'Arryman!" a voice declared. The door flew open, revealing a pissed- off looking young Immortal. Dunkin' gawked, then leapt to his feet, his expression going from shock to joy as memory finally caught up with him. "ITCHIE!" "But...." Joe rose as well. "It.... it can't be!" Dunkin' took a step towards the door, but the red fog swirled up before him, blocking his way. "Stay back, maniac!" Itchie yelled. "But...." Dunkin' pleaded. "But.... BUDDY!" The fog protectively encircled Itchie then solidified around him, becoming hundreds of ladies (and quite a few guys, too) all wearing red T-shirts! "You heard him!" the lady at the head of the group warned. "Stay back or know the wrath of the Red Army!" Dunkin' shook his head, baffled. "What *is* this?" "This," said Itchie with pride, "is the Clan Denial. My own private army of fans who are disgusted with the turn this show has taken!" Dunkin' sat back down. "Oh. So they brought you back to life?" "HE NEVER DIED!" The Clan denied. "IT NEVER HAPPENED!" Itchie chuckled. "Aren't they *great*?" "Gee, look everybody," Dunkin' said sadly. "I'm really sorry about killing Itchie and...." "HE DIDN'T DIE!!!" "Er.... and the direction the show had taken, but just try to hang in there with us! We've got a really GREAT season planned with good stories...." "Well," Joe cut in. "Actually kind of re-hashed stories for the most part." "Oh." Dunkin' paused. "Well, we'll have lots of Meefus! You all love Meefus, right?" "Um...." Joe interrupted again. "Meant to tell ya. Meefus isn't going to be available much. Has this veterinary gig to take care of." "Oh." Dunkin' sank a bit lower in his chair. "Lots of Joe?" Joe shook his head. "Sorry, buddy. Goin' home next week, remember?" "Amoura?" "No can do." "Er...." Dunkin' looked around a bit desperately. "Well, what *will* we have?" Joe whipped out a stack of papers and flipped though them. "Uh.... five almost identical episodes, each starring a different F'Immie in leather...." he flipped a few more pages. "Five more episodes of just you, and...." he looked at the last page. "Oh! Well at least everyone will love the ending!" There was a collective hiss from the Clan. Joe cringed. "Well.... maybe not *everybody*." "Oh, this is awful!" Dunkin' smacked his forehead. And it was. End!!!