What Follows is an Episodic Account of Events, Forthwith Concerning a Man.
by Russell Prime, inspired by his own personal battle with continuously intermittent leprosy
Episode the First (original air date January 31, 2006)
Fearlessly the armless man pushed forward in his blinding wheelchair using his feet to push the wheels as he spread-eagled the pointless-to-him armrests, effortlessly and practicedly motivating the bewheeled sitting apparatus towards the imminent doom of its final destination: Hell, the place. He reached out with his hand and pressed the call button for the elevator and waited patiently and peacefully. While waiting, Stone Brushmaster, our fearless and armless hero of a man, was attacked by a demonic midget assassin and was forced to viciously strangle his would-be tiny executioner with his bare feet (for arms had he not) though he momentarily felt remorse due to his incendiary sympathy for the little people of the land. "Ha! You must do better than that to defeat the gargantuan might of me, devils!"
Finally the elevator to the most dastardly of locales arrived with a deafening ding which was barely audible. With greatly agonizing agony, Stone held his hands tightly over his ears for several minutes to prevent the sonically exploding and seemingly neverending ding from bursting his eardrums into one thousand trumpets. Once the elevator had finished its brief and nearly silent ding, Brushmaster used his superhuman leg strength, which he had acquired during the fateful and mysterious accident which had cost him his arms, which had once been the prize of all Agazonia, which is where this story takes place, to pry open the mightily closed elevator doors.
"Raaarrggh!" Groaned Stone Brushmaster, whose thigh muscles glistened with a sensual tremble. "My mightiness will undo this foul contraption!"
With a jovial grunt, the doors gave open unto the man whose birthright it was to open all elevators in Agazonia by his mighty leg-flexing. With a relieved sigh, Brushmaster wiped the sweat off his forehead with the top of his foot. Then, reaching his fingerly-pointing hand to the heavens, he screamed to the low ceiling, "Now, Great Brian, I will finish the hero's task you have set before me! I will go to Hell, the place, and conquer its One-Headed Scale Wurm guardian to make way for the forces of terse Righteousness! This I do for you, Brian!"
With much drama and sweat, Stone launched his armless body forward out of his indestructible wheeled engine of sitting, doing six flips and a 900 degree rotation and landing nimbly on his massive, yet dainty feet inside the elevator to the place whose name we cannot name. Balancing himself unerringly on one leg, Brushmaster used the big toe of his remaining leg to impress upon a button marked only with an 'H', for as previously stated he did not have the arms that most others are accustomed to. The doors, fearing another thrashing at the hands of the legs of Brushmaster, closed obligingly. The elevator lurched into motion and began its corrugated downward descent into the bowels of Hell, the place, with our stalwart hero seething with self-lust inside.
To Be Continued...
Episode the Second (original air date February 2, 2006)
Stone Brushmaster, Hero of Heros, Coagulator of Cogency, Germinator of Justice, Rambunctificator of Ribaldery, Firebrand of Fiercitude, Magnifier of Magnificence, looked around at his surroundings. "Ah, I am still in the abominable elevator to Hell, the place, as I was when I was last in here several minutes ago," said Brushmaster to himself as the elevator marched itself further down upon the infernal cables of doomity.
Stone thought back to his childhood, back to the days when once he had arms, for at this juncture he had none of them. "Yes, the childhood. I remember when I was a child. How I played in the sand and had a joyous time of it." As he pondered, he scratched his head gingerly, flaking bits of heroic scalp about the elevator cab from the tips of his lightsome fingertips. "Why, I even remember Janey Titmural. How I loved her resplendent budding breasts at that time in history...before she lost them in the same bizarre, tragic, saintly, savage, rigid, life-altering accident that cost me my arms which I no longer have due to that accident. AAAAAAAARMS! And budding breasts, to a lesser extent."
As he shouted morosely, elongating the bowels of all Agazonia's citizens in a twenty-two mile radius, the elevator gave to a halt. "What foul machinations are these?" Brush Stonemaster said germanely. "This must be the work of the nefarious One-Headed Scale Wurm of Legitimacy, the evil guardian of the gate to place whose name we must not name to which I now travel in this loathsomely urbane cabled car! Well, we will all see what wrath Brush Stonemaster will unleash!"
Shouting as he tends to, Stone used his mighty leg-wielding to smash through the bottom of the accursed metal box of descendence. Sparks flew and far-off mountains crumbled at the abnormally powerful resonance of reinforced titanium steel chunks flying apart so quickly that they broke the speed of light and travelled backwards through time to epochs hitherto rigorously unspecified. A glaze of red light washed alluringly over the libidinous visage of Brushmaster, and shielding his eyes from the intoxicatingly irreligious light with a rippling forearm, he peered through the hollow aperture well-placed by his felicitous kick in the base of the elevatron, which is what they called elevators in Agazonia in those days.
A foul stench arose from the shaft below him and suddenly he longed for his once forgotten Maiden-of-Sexing, Janey Titmural. "Janey..." whispered Stonemaster to himself. Now filled with resolve and a longing for retribution so fantastic as to have never once been experienced by another, Brushmaster set himself to motion with a gargantuan flex of his titanic leg tops. Heroically, he leapt through the unfathomably wide crevice cracked by the feet of he, spinning so furiously he smashed apart the oxygen molecules within two feet of his flight, plummeting armlessly to his destiny and the greatest altercation with a dragon ever told in this story so far.
To Be Continued...
Episode the Third (original air date February 9, 2006)
Fueled only by twisted black licorice and pious vitriol, Stone Brushmaster fell further and faster than any Agazonian man without arms had ever fallen before. So fast flew he, setting aside physics and reason to rocket past terminal velocity by a factor of 60,021, that not only did his manly flesh but also did the very air about him burst into fiery flames so blazingly hot that Jeff, evil flaming Lord of the Underworld, Hell, the place, could not have withstood the burning sensations if he happened to have been present during this very fiery scene, which he wasn't. The conflagration burgeoned, leaving the sweet smell of lilac in Brushmaster's waving trail, consuming all the hair on his body until he was naught but the sleekest, strongest, fastest, hairlessest and second most armless man presently falling through the undercaverns of North Plaigacus, which is the continent on which the borders of Agazonia lie.
"Ha ha!" Shouted Stone through mouthfuls of burning fire. "Without hair I will be ten times as desirable and will gain the pleasures of one hundred times as many maidens of virtue true!" Then, in an unexpected turn for our fearlessly flaming hero, he whispered sadly to himself, "It is only too unfortunate that none of those maidens can be my youthful love receptacle, Janey, for I will not touch a lady without jubblies."
Stonebrusher then let out a wail so blood curdlingly loud that as he passed a bat on this trepidaciously tedious descent, the wail curdled its blood into curdles of blood. The bat then combusted and left only a fleck of dust where once it happily flapped and occassionally solved mysteries. His decidedly womanly shriek was only the prelude to what would become known in Agazonian history books as the greatest deluge of tears ever to be issued forth from a person's tear-things, so much so that if these greatly tears had been collected they would have filled six lakes and fourteen good-sized whale tanks. The tears streamed backwards from his contorted face across his frustratingly attractive back and extinguished the flames.
Recovering from both the fiery tongs of fire and the fiery soul-consuming anguishy fire of emotion from the fabricated memory of Janey Titmural's would-be absurdly large mammilia, had she not lost them in that tragic, slightly aardvark-related accident so many years ago, Brushmaster ran his fingers through his hair and smiled gently. Then remembering his task, which is apparently to defeat the evil One-Headed Scale Wurm of Legitimacy in the name of Brian, who is, I think, some sort of God-like person, he saw said dragon down below him, approaching rapidly due to the extreme rate of descent in which he was currently engaged.
"Ah, destiny! What fortunes will you bring Don Brushstoner today? What fates will you hand to me, the handlessest of heros? Oh, you will rue the day you stood against the mighty mights of my mightiness!"
To Be Continued...
Background artwork created by Ryan Rouse (2006)