Narrator: You’ve all heard of the Good Timeline, the Neutral Timeline, the Bad Timeline…this one’s about the Sad Timeline. See, Golem and his friends used to party day and night. It was all they could think about, even when they were saving the world. But one by one, they stopped showing up. It got to the point that Golem threw a party and no one came. In the span of a few years, they’d all forgotten how to party. Even Golem.
Golem: There’s a Lawrence Welk special on tonight. Stop hogging the TV.
Big Al: Shut up. I’m watching NASCAR. They only have 4,000 laps to go!
Golem: I’ve been sitting here counting my Vorpal Brand Extra Plain Pretzel Sticks for three hours while you watched this race.
~~The TV Cuts to Commercial~~
Vorpal: Are you tired of sensory overload every time you bite into a pretzel? Do you hate it when that one piece of salt gets right between your lip and your gums, up in the corner where you can’t get it out until it dissolves? You know what I'm talking about. Well fret no more, thanks to Vorpal Brand Extra Plain Pretzel Sticks! Food will never rock your tastebuds like a tornad—oh, come on. That’s not even how the line goes.
Golem: I can’t even muster the energy to put them in a bowl.
Big Al: Well that’s too bad. I get the TV every Sunday through Saturday. You traded TV privileges for being Head of the Party Committee.
Big Al: Look, I’m sorry. I know things haven’t been fun around here. And I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your last party. We all have a lot going on, you know?
Narrator: Just then, the doorbell rang, and a slip of paper appeared under the door. It was sealed with a balloon sticker.
Golem: What, ho? A party invitation.
Big Al: Meh.
Narrator: Meanwhile, at the community college.
Ditto: And so you see, the British Empire spread not only due to its ruthless efficiency, but because of the well-documented effects of tea and handlebar mustaches in exerting authority.
TA: Professor McCloaker?
TA: I don’t know how to tell you this, but all the students left. Anglo Studies just isn’t a popular subject these days.
Ditto: Yes, well, stiff upper lip and all that. As, I was saying—
TA: Professor McCloaker?
Ditto: What now? I’m in the middle of a lecture.
TA: An invitation arrived in the mail for you.
Ditto: What, ho? Are you quite sure? I wouldn’t have taken you as old enough to know what one looked like.
TA: My gram showed me a photo, once.
Narrator: Meanwhile in a run-down apartment, SteveT sits at the table. He hears a knock on the door.
Narrator: Luiigii of the Pipes steps inside.
Luiigii: Yes, me indeed. Who else would have come here?
SteveT: Someone I never tried to kill for trespassing before?
Luiigii: Please. We both know those days are behind you, ever since the parties stopped.
SteveT: The worst part is that I wasn’t the one who stopped them.
Luiigii: No. The worst part is that you miss them.
SteveT: Did you come here to read my mind with your mystical powers, or do you want something?
Luiigii: Actually, I was…hoping you had a spare bedroom. Me and the wife…ex-wife...I just got divorced. She even took the box.
Narrator: Years ago, SteveT would have threatened him, or enlisted him as a minion. But it wasn’t years ago anymore. SteveT had been living alone. Even the other members of the SteveTrio had abandoned him, and even a former enemy was still company.
SteveT: Can you make tacos?
Luiigii: If I had the money to buy ingrediants. And hey, I found this outside your door. My name is also on it. Someone must have known I’d be coming here.
SteveT: A party invitation?
Luiigii: I know. It’s like they didn’t even know whose apartment this was. What, ho?
SteveT: Hmm. Well, may as well buff out some of this rust. It’ll give me something to do.
Narrator: Meanwhile, the S.S. Swordfeller soared majestically through the skies, laden with priceless treasures from around the world: The Statue of Liberty, the Lunar Lander, The Great Wall of China, and even the Shroud of Turin.
Masamune: Avast! Mast to starboard! Pickleswab the steerage! Ballast me hearties!
GORE-illa: You told me there would be things, such as faces, to punch.
Masamune: How was I supposed to know that no one cared about defending priceless treasures from around the world?
GORE: Can I at least punch your crew?
Masamune: Look, I let ye tear the Statue of Liberty out of ‘er foundation, did I not? That must be countin’ for something.
GORE: It took the edge off, but what’s the point of going on an international crime spree if no one mounts a defense? I should have had to climb the Statue of Liberty and fight of helicopters, but everyone was too busy being depressed to even look at us.
Masamune: Aye. What a world we live in, ‘tis sure.
GORE: So what do we steal next?
Narrator: Masamune shook his head and grabbed hold of the wheel.
Masamune: There be nothin’ left but to bury this treasure. Ramming speed, boys! Time to set this ship to ground!
Narrator: Just then, Dodo fluttered down from the crow’s nest with an envelope in his beak.
Masamune: What ho, a party?
GORE: *Punches Dodo*
Narrator: Meanwhile, in the secret bunker!
Minion: Reporting in, my lord.
Shadowy Figure: And have you sent the invitations?
Minion: Yes, my lord.
Shadowy Figure: Excellent. This party will go down in history…as the day the Party Goers met their end!
Minion: What, ho!