Something Pizza And Beer This Way Comes

When last we left, Jeff had been warned by Kip from the other room: "Uh, red alert, guys! We have a visitor ..."

Clark came bounding down the hall from the direction of the Villains Room, a tad flushed and sweaty. "Pizza's here!"

I traded glances with Jeff. I was on my way for my telephone shift but it looked like I wasn't going to get to it. No big deal as it turned out because the more we hurried up and waited for that Zigfried guy to show up the more pointless his rambling, barely threatening telephone calls seemed to be.

"Screw it. Let's eat," I relented. "Zigmond (or whoever) will show when he shows ... if ever he does."

Following Clark's lead into the formal dining area, Kip had already taken in the delivery and laid out the spread. Clark really outdid himself this time around, too. There wasn't just pizza: There was pizza and all the side fixings as well - several pie varieties, chicken wings and onion rings with their accompanying dipping sauces and more. Now, as a general rule, I'm not really partial to pizza. But it's an underlying craving every once in a while, sort of like when you're hankering for a McDonald's Big Mac deep down inside, despite the fact you know there are much better burgers out there in the world. This is exactly how I feel about pizza. I get cravings for it here and there. Today? While I wasn't at all thinking about pizza the thought of it - accompanied by the nice selection before us - was thoroughly working its magic on me.

Of course there was a nice collection of iced cold malt beverages with which to wash down the pies. Jeff grabbed a trio, popped their tops and hand us one each. (A few Unbelieva-Babes even joined us.)

"A toast! To Zigfield ... or Zagfled ... or whatever his name is. May he come out of that tunnel (wherever it may be) and finally meet up with us (whenever that occasion might arise) so we can put a face with a name (whatever name he's going by at the time.) Until then ... SKOAL! Bon appetit!"

The meal was fine, the conversation and camaraderie equal to the meal and we never heard from Zapftig (or whoever he is) the remainder of the day.

For all we know he may still be trying to negotiate that tunnel ...

The question remained: How could someone so deft at infiltrating and causing such a ruckus* at The Academy Awards be so giving with threats to us while not seeing those threats through?

We might never know who true identity of The Zigster ... or whatever his name is. 

*As it turned out there was a logical, though sorry, explanation to the Oscar's final award flub as detailed by the news which resulted in the firing of a couple PricewaterhouseCoopers employees for their untimely screw-up with the winning envelope for Best Picture, which pretty much negated anything we'd learned of Zugmott (we think) and any of his claims.

Something Ziggy this Way Comes

I took the second shift. When I took over from Clark, he had that same look upon his face that he usually has just prior to defenestrating Henri Petit. I drew him to one side and recommended that he go and take out his aggression in the Villains room, which is like a gym full of dummies with the faces of some of our greatest adversaries on them. Except in Clark's case, he changes them all to Henri Petit. 

Artie the UnbelievaCat conducts an UnbelievaFu™ Unbelievinar™ at the local Radisson, and gives several members of Sum41 an ass-whuppin'.

Clark growled at me under his breath "...that guy.. is so...annoying!!! He keeps telling us he's coming to kick our butts and just never shows up! I mean,  what is WRONG with that dude!!!?" and with that, he stalked off to kick some dummy butt.

Recently declassified photo of Clark warming up for the Villains Room.

I had never seen Clark like this. Zigfiried (or Zigfried or Zigried) had really gotten to him. True, the guy was beginning to irk me somewhat also. But, resigned to my post, I manned the phone.

I didn't have long to wait. In a matter of seconds it began to ring again.

I snatched up the phone. "Hello!?!"

The familiar snarky voice snapped back, "Ah, good morning, Unbelieva-fools! I am on my way, you idiots! I am coming to give you the butt-kicking of your --"

"HOLD ON just one second, Ziggy! All you do is keep threatening and nothing to show for it! You just keep saying you're on your way, well where are you then? Huh? You don't know, because you're not coming at all, are you? You're a one-man  flop, aren't you? you've got no goons, no henchmen, no-one to help. You keep saying you've got to go through a tunnel, well I know for DAMN sure there aren't any tunnels for literally MILES around! So tell us then, Zigster! Where the hell are you, eh?"

" Ah, well, you see, I'm, uh, very close by, quite near, just a little ways away, down the road apiece, not too far..."

"Horse pucky!" I cried. "C'mon, talk to me.... if you can worm your way in to anywhere and disrupt a big ceremony like you did the Oscars, how come you can't come over here and fight?"

Just then, Kip shouted at me from the next room. "Uh, red alert, guys! We have a visitor..."