(WARNING: The following material may elicit reactions like this...
...as it contains shocking developments of a revelatory nature. Those with low tolerance for suspense and surprises may choose to wait in our Unbelieva-lounge For Namby-Pambies.Frozen cocktails and chilaquiles await! |
No? Okay, daredevils. We now resume our two-fisted tale of intrigue!)
What happened to the Kip we knew and loved? The good kid? The "unofficial spokesman" for The Unbelievables, loyal through and through? Upstanding to the last?
I sighed. I looked at Jeff, who shrugged. I looked at Clark. I could practically see the bit he was champing on.
"Clark? He's all yours ..."
My hands trembling with rage, I reached for Kip's neck...
...and ripped off the cheap, ill-fitting latex "Kip" mask to reveal...
Jeff and Michael gasped "It's the vile and disgusting Henri Petit!". "Of course it is", I said. Because It was. Henri Petit, our most sinister, chain-smoking, toddler of a foe, perched on some awkward mechanical stilts contraption, topping off his disguise with a cheap, ill-fitting latex "Kip" mask.
Michael asked, "But how did you know it was Henri Petit wearing a cheap, ill-fitting latex 'Kip' mask and not actually Kip himself?" I replied,"Because not only is he wearing a cheap, ill-fitting latex 'Kip' mask, he actually is cheap, ill-fitting Kip himself!"
More gasps.
All these years, I knew my hatred of Kip was justified! Let's pick things up from the transcript recorded by our Unbelieva-voice recorders.
More gasps.
All these years, I knew my hatred of Kip was justified! Let's pick things up from the transcript recorded by our Unbelieva-voice recorders.
PETIT: That's right, Unbelieva-oafs! This whole time, I've had access to your mail and the inner workings of your top secret headquarters as I moved among you on a daily basis while you remained completely unaware! I've won. Do you hear me? I HAVE DEFEATED YOU!!JEFF: You fiend! You read our mail?!?
PETIT: What? Oh. No, I didn't actually read it. That would be rude. And illegal, I think.
MICHAEL: So you had access to our mail, a vital source of our communications...but you didn't read it?
PETIT: No, but I had access to it! And that means you were vulnerable to attack! Ha ha!
CLARK: But you never actually used that access to attack. And now you've been apprehended. What was your point?
PETIT: Well, ah... Hmm...
JEFF: Yeah, that makes no sense. Tell us what you were really up to!
PETIT: I was going to attack you. I was! But once I settled into the mail room and developed a routine, well, you get a lot of mail from ladies. and it smells really nice.
MICHAEL: Oh gross! You little pervert!
PETIT: Not just that! The pay was good for a pretty easy job and the benefits are top notch, so I thought 'what's the rush?' Plus that espresso machine in the break room is simply delightful! I was merely biding my time until...
CLARK: Bide this, you loathsome, grubby, espresso-swilling tot! (glass breaking)
PETIT: I keep telling you I am not a... (unintelligible, fading curses followed by a wet thud)
CLARK: Sorry guys. I guess we need a new window.
JEFF: And a new mail boy! (laughter, martini glasses clinking)
ULF: Arf, arf! (louder laughter)
MICHAEL: And more frozen cocktails and chilaquiles! (almost hysterical shrieking laughter)
The End
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