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City Of Stone: The Parody	By : Kingcobra Category: +G through L > Gargoyles Views: 2569 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Gargoyles, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-City Of Stone: The Parody
- 1
City Of Stone: The Parody
By King Cobra3 (KingCobra_582@hotmail.com)
A/N: Special thanks to Storyseeker for his help in writing this piece of 'literature'.
WARNING: Language, random Humour, Violence, and a Partridge in a Pear Tree. Do not read unless you're at least old enough to not have to sneak into R-rated films. All you hatchlings stay away.

Manhattan Bank:
Helicopters zoomed around the bank, as Maza headed towards Bluestone, taking cover behind one of the squad cars.
“This has been going on all day,” Bluestone told her, as she arrived. “We should just head in right now.”
“Uh uh,” Maza shook her head. “They’ve got confirmed hostages, two people who nobody cares dies, a lawyer and an insurance salesman, but the lawyer could cost us our pensions, if they do.”
Bluestone looked horrified, and then asked. “What about the insurance guy?”
Maza shrugged. “No big loss… I’m with Churchill Insurance anyway.”
Bluestone nodded, and took the loudspeaker. “It’s getting late! Now, tired people make mistakes, so let’s call it a day before someone gets hurt!”
From up above, one of the terrorists shattered a window and shouted down to them. “We will never give in! Our cause is worth any sacrifice! Death to all IRS scum, and the purple menace Barney!”
“RIGHT ON!” Bluestone and several other police officers yelled out.
Maza stared at them.
“Err,” they said quietly. “We mean… No, boooo.”
The female terrorist opened fire, raining down a wave of bullets on the gathered police force. Bluestone and Maza barely made it away.
“Do you think they’re beginning to see it our way?” he asked her casually.
“Either that,” she replied. “Or we’re gonna need to save that insurance salesman after all. I don’t think our insurance covers what that bitch has done to our cars?” She said, indicating the bullet damaged vehicles.
“Crap!” Bluestone swore.
“But don’t worry,” Maza assured him. “I got a feeling they’ll be seeing things our way soon.”

Inside The Building:
Margot and Brendan Yale cowered before the terrorists with their big guns. Behind them, three seemingly cute and innocent looking little girls stared at that.
“Wha… what are you going to do to us?” Brendan stuttered.
“For starters,” the female leader replied. “Get your voice box seen to. It sounds like a broken record. But apart from that, nothing, assuming our demands are met… If not…” she clicked the handle of her gun… and accidentally fired it.
“DAMN IT!” she screamed. “THIS STUPID TRIGGER’S ON THE BLINK AGAIN!”
One of the men nudged one of the others, and whispered to him. “Hey, bud? Just wondering, but… Have you noticed those three cute and seemingly innocent little girls, standing behind the hostages? They’ve been there for the past hour, and their staring eyes are beginning to freak me out.”
The three cute and seemingly innocent little girls stared at them widely. You do not see us. You cannot see us. We are not here. And you will give us free candy!
“Please just let us go!” Margot wailed. “I’m due for a beauty appointment. If I don’t have my daily injection, my face will crack!”
The female leader considered, then declined. “The way you look, your face cracked a long time ago anyway.”
“It’ll be over soon,” the blonde girl said.
“Bout bloody time, too,” the dark haired one replied. “These school uniforms are way past this century’s fashion, and I’m sick of having to stand up on my toes to talk to everybody! Next time, let’s go for the hooker disguise.”
Suddenly, one of the walls shattered, and the fearful looking purple-skinned creature came forth, snarling.
“OH MY GOD! IT’S BARNEY!!!” Brendan yelled in horror, not noticing Goliath behind the purple dinosaur.
“SHOOT THE MOTHERFUCKER!!!” The female terrorist commanded, and in a split second everyone had their guns cocked and shooting.
“DIE, BARNEY, SCUM! DIE!”
Goliath leapt out of the way of their guns fire, but only succeeded in getting himself cornered. As the men started to surround him, the ceiling above started to cave in, and three shapes fell in, one green and scrawny, one red in desperate need of a good nose job, and one just plain huge.
One of the men screamed, as a gigantic aqua butt came crashing down on him.
“BROADWAY!” Goliath bellowed. “How many times do I have to tell you?! Always come in through the side entrance!!!”
“But, Goliath! The side entrance isn’t wide enough for me!”
The red one sniggered. “Hoover Dam wouldn’t be wide enough for you.”
Broadway glared. “You shut the hell-“ He was cut off when a glazed expression came over his face, and with a loud ‘PHATTTT!’, a nasty stench filled the air. All of them groaned and covered their noses with cries of disgust, the Trio beating the flunkeys into scrap.
“Fuck!” the female leader groaned as she turned to run, holding her nose with one hand. “I have to get to safety from that smell!” She ran towards the large safe door, somehow managing to close it behind her with one hand, while holding her nose AND her gun with the other. But Goliath grabbed her and held her in the air while still holding his nose.
“Don’t hurt me! I’m gifted!”
Goliath snorted. “And I’m Hulk Hogan on steroids.”
“Are you?”
Barney, still completely unharmed, came toward the Yales. “It’s okay, folks. You’re safe now. Which is good,” and now he was starting to sing. “cause I love you, you love me, we’re a happy…”
Brendan panicked. “YAHH! GET AWAY!!’ He grabbed the terrorist’s gun and hit Barney between the eyes.
Lex stared down at the dead purple-clothed dinosaur. “Good fucking riddance.”
“The cause is everything, until her own steak is threatened.” This came from the dark-haired girl in the schoolgirl outfit.
Broadway started drooling. “Steak?! WHERE?!?”
She ignored him, focusing on Goliath. “Still, it’s good that you saved her.”
The blonde cut in. “If you forget what she’s forgotten, that every game of Grand Theft Auto is precious, then you’d be no better then she is.”
Goliath growled. “I will never be like Margot Yale. That snotty wench.”
“Hey!” Margot looked upset. At least until Barney’s corpse, which was near her, suddenly farted, and the bitchy D.A. passed out.
“Don’t start, Margot!” Brendan grumbled.
“We were not talking about THAT snotty wench.” Now the white-haired girl was speaking. “Though it’s easy for us to see why no one likes her. Even the author.”
There was a second’s pause as everyone looked up at the author typing at his keyboard, then re-focused on the situation at hand.
“The brats…” Goliath began, noticing that the children were suddenly gone. “Err, I mean the three cute and seemingly innocent children. Where did they go?!”
“What children?” Brendan asked.
“Oh come on,” Brooklyn said, looking around, while Broadway seemed to be looking for something else. “They were right here a second ago.”
Margot got up, a little dazed, and sneered. “What dope are you on? There weren’t any children here.”
Goliath growled. “That’s it!” he strode forward, grabbed Margot around the neck, and prepared to throw her out the window.
“Goliath, wait!” Lex cried, regaining consciousness. “You can’t kill her!”
“Oh, boo who,” Goliath replied, not caring. “Give me a few good reasons, and then I’ll throw her out.”
“Because it’s not right, it’s immoral,” Lex began. “It’s against Disney regulations, and… Elisa won’t let you in her apartment anymore, if you do. Cos this bitch is the one who writes out her paycheques.”
“Curses!” Goliath swore. “Foiled again!” He dropped Margot like a sack of stones. “Okay then, let’s go home. And Broadway, will you please stop looking for a steak sandwich?! That was just an expression!”
“I’m not looking for food…!” Broadway protested. “… Well, not completely. I’m looking for the guy I fell on, when I first came in. He seems to have disappeared.” Broadway bent over, looking under a rug.
“Oh come on,” Brooklyn rolled his eyes. “How the hell could a guy just… “
“Help!” a pitifully whining voice called out.
They all looked over to where Broadway was still searching for the missing terrorist.
“Broadway?” Brooklyn said to his friend. “Word of advice… Don’t sit down or go to the lavatory yet, at least not until we’ve got a crowbar.”
“Why?”
“Let’s just say we need to pry something off.”
“Oh.” Broadway answered. Then, after a pause, “Ewww…”
“Urgh, goddammit. Poor guy.” Lex groaned.
“Don’t worry,” Brooklyn assured him. “Broadway will be all right in no time.”
“Who’s talking about lard-ass?” Lex asked him. “I meant the terrorist.”
* * * * *
Somewhere over Manhattan:
Demona flew with the piece of parchment in left claw. She glanced down at the parchment in question, smiling briefly, looked back up… and then smashed right into the brick-wall of a building (that’s what you get for not looking where you’re going!).
“Uhhh,” Demona groaned, pulling her face out of the brickwork. “Flashback… please!”
* * * * *
CASTLE WYVERN;
994 A.D:
“Those Vikings may return at daybreak, Goliath. I say take all your gargoyles and make SURE they’re gone.” The Captain Of The Guard spoke gravely, concern on his face. Goliath’s mate stood next to him.
Demona smiled devilishly. “I agree. Let us go out in force and put an end to these pigs once and for all.”
Captain stared at her, incomprehension on his chubby face. “Why would you attack pigs?”
“No, I meant the Vikings… Wait a second. Didn’t we already live this moment? In another parody fic?”
Captain frowned deeply. “Hey, yeah, we did.” Everyone glared at the unseen author.
The Author glared back. “Don’t look at me like that.”
Goliath, Demona, and the Captain all shrugged and went back to their conversation. “Too dangerous. I don’t want to leave the Castle unprotected.”
“Their leader SWORE he’d be back. It’s best to hurry them far away NOW and not take that chance!”
“Very well.” Goliath rumbled, smirking. “But I shall do it. I can scare those cowards away without any help.”
Demona looked into his eyes. “That’s too dangerous for you. Let me come along, at least.”
Goliath took her by the shoulders. “You are my best warrior…”
“OW! Get your claws out of my skin!”
Goliath loosened his grip. “…I leave you in command.”
“No, I cannot let you.”
Goliath smiled. “I won’t go alone. Remember, Dolph Lundgren and I are one, now and forever.”
“Dolph Lundgren?!”
Goliath quickly averted her eyes. “Um… bye!” He flew off quickly, hiding the embarrassed blush in his cheeks. Demona glared at the Captain in rage.
“This ruins everything! We were supposed to all get out of the Castle so the Vikings could T.P. it!”
“The plan could still work,” the captain thought out loud. “I’ll signal Hakon. I think he’s still on his poker night? And I’ll tell him to attack during the day.”
Demona stared at him. “Hello, numbskull! We’re ‘stone’ during the day!”
The captain shrugged. “Whatever you guys get up to during the day is not the issue. So long as you don’t let the guards around the castle see you with your dope, I’ll… “
Demona seized him by the collar. “I said stone, not stoned!”
“Oh, well in that case, don’t worry.” He assured her. “I’ll be there, and I’ll make sure nothing bad happens. I swear I’ll keep your clan safe.”
“You promise?”
“Does Michael Jackson have a deep and manly voice?” he replied assuredly.
Demona looked at him curiously. “Who’s Michael Jackson?” she asked.
“Never mind!” the captain quickly said.
* * * * *
A Few Hours Later:
Demona walked along the battlements of the castle, and saw her rookery brother and sister about to take their places for their daily snooze.
She flew down to them hurriedly. “Listen,” she spoke quickly. “I have to tell you something… “ She stopped suddenly, as she saw the Vikings sneaking up to the castle… and a man streaking across the fields in front of them.
“God damn, flashers!” one of the Vikings said, taking out his bow and arrow, and shooting the guy in the ass… and later, when he put his glasses back on, shot him in the heart, he said. “You’re not safe from them anywhere!”
“I think we’d better not have him behind us when we all start shooting,” one of the other Vikings said fearfully to his companion.
Demona looked at her rookery kin. “Never mind…” She left.
Othello looked at Desdemona. “What was that all about?”
Desdemona shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe she’s been hitting the crack pipe again?”
Demona, not hearing their conversation, flew down to the beach beneath the castle, and… as the waves crashed against the rocks, as the sun rose, as the Vikings attacked, as the Author silently bitched to himself about his crappy job, and as the viewers all went comatose from boredom… She turned to stone, a look of uncertainty on her face.
2 seconds later, a flock of seagulls came out of nowhere and started pecking at, and crapping on, her stone form for absolutely no reason.
* * * * *
The day past by, and as the sun set in the distance, Demona awoke.
“AAAARRRRGGGHHHH!!” she roared, as she awoke to the blanket of dozens of gulls that had rested on her during the day. “BLOODY BIRDS!”
She looked up to the castle above, and saw the smoke and flames.
“It worked!” she said triumphantly. “At last, my clan will be free from the persecution of humanity, and the unfair taxing of the IRS!” (Yes, the IRS is everywhere)
Saying that, she dug her claws into the Cliffside and started making her way back up to the castle. Pausing only whenever the gulls flew by her head, pecking at her tiara.
“Goddamnit!” she cursed. “What do I have to do?! I don’t have any bread crumbs!”
Eventually, she made her way to the top, but the whole place was deserted?
“Where are they?” she wondered aloud. “Brothers?! Sisters?! Toto?!” she called out, but no one answered.
She walked up to some of the roosting places of her clan, and found a large pile of stones in their places. Without thinking, she picked up one of the large pieces on the ground, turning it around to look at it… and found her rookery brother’s face sticking his tongue out at her.
“No…” Demona breathed, and dropped her brother’s face, staring at the awful sight in front of her. “No!… My Anime DVD collection is GONE!!!!” she then looked around again. “And my clan is dead, too!!!”
Demona sank to her knees, and roared her anguish to the night sky.
Several birds fell out of the sky and hit the floor, dead.
Then she looked up at the tower, and saw Goliath setting down on the tower, near her roosting spot.
“Goliath,” she breathed. “My handsome big-cock of a mate… No, you can’t see me, not yet.
“My… “ Goliath sobbed over the remains of what he thought was his mate. “…Psychotic, but incredibly beautiful and sexy angel of light.” He roared to the night.
“I’ll come back later,” she thought out loud, as Demona glided away. “I’ll say I was at a Stevie Wonder concert or something. He’ll be so happy that I’m alive!”
Several hours later, Demona glided back home, wearing a complimentary pair of Stevie Wonder sunglasses. Though it was night, Goliath, The 3 younglings, the Old One, and the loyal Beast were all frozen in stone.
"Oh, my love!" She moaned. "What have I... what have THEY done?!"
She scaled the sides of the tower, stopping on Goliath's perch and placing a kiss on his stone forehead, a single tear rolling out of her eye and down onto his face. "They will pay for smashing my Fullmetal Alchemist collection… and my clan also! Damnit, I need to get my priorities straight!" she said, as she glided away.
She didn't see the tear roll down Goliath's sleeping face, and missed the granite hand reaching up to wipe the tear away.
* * * * *
Far away, in a secluded farm, a young boy walked out into the night.
“It’s always the same!” the boy complained. “Gilcon Gain do this, Gilcon Gain do that, Gilcon Gain kill the neighbours, Gilcon Gain grow up into a demented Gargoyle-hunting killer that will one day spawn an evil psychotic immortal gargoyle… “ he stopped, as he heard the sound of something startling the horses inside the barn.
“What’s that?” he said, even though he already knew, as he had read the script.
From inside, Demona rummaged through the waste and half-eaten foods left for the pigs. She gulped down all she could find, starving.
“The indignity of it,” she said. “And to think, I once dined with royalty!”
Just then, the door to the barn opened, and a young lad entered brandishing a large fork.
Demona eyes blazed red at the young upstart, who thought that the barn was simply being invaded by nothing more than a thief.
“Come out with your hands up!” Gilcon gain ordered.
Demona snarled, racing forward and slicing her claws through his face.
“AAArrrggghhhhh!” Gilcon gain screamed. “My face! My beautiful, beautiful face! Now I’ll never get that contract with the super-modelling agency!”
Demona walked past him. “That’ll teach you, Human, for not having any Chicken Chasseur or boiled lobster. And the décor here, please this is so medieval! And the smell is… “
“All right, we get it!” the author shouted. “You hate the place, get out!”
Demona fumed, and left.
A few moments later, Gilcon Gain ran out of the barn, still holding his now scarred face, where his father ran into him.
“I thought I told you to…!” his father began shouting.
“Something attacked me, father,” Gilcon showed him his face.
“Ah, you wee babe!” his father scolded him. “Crying over a few hideous scars that could possibly get infected, leading to gangrene or some other infectious disease! It was probably no more than a rogue gargoyle, possibly one of those nut-jobs I’ve heard about that get made immortal and spend eternity trying to destroy humanity?”
The boy swore a vow. “She was a demon, and she will pay for what she did to me! She and all her evil race!”
His father stared at him funnily. “Ri-ght… and when you’re done with that, go start milking the cows!”
'Moooooooo!!!!!!'
*****
1994 A.D.
Pack Media Studios. Manhattan, New York.
Demona landed at the Pack’s media studios, where Xanatos and Owen were waiting for her.
“I’ve brought the spell,” she said.
Xanatos looked up hopefully. “The penis enlargement spell!” he cried in delight.
Demona stared at him. “No,” she said. “The spell that will take a minute of life from all who see it, granting you the immortality that you so desire.”
“Oh,” Xanatos said, looking mighty disappointed.
“And this is the spell that’s kept you alive all these centuries?” Owen asked curiously.
Demona looked down. “Yesss,” she said innocently, crossing her tail. “Honest!”
"Anyway, let's just get this over with, even though you're not trustworthy and I suspect an ulterior motive," Xanatos responded. He looked at Owen. "Camera?"
"Ready to record, sir."
"Sound?"
"Full Dolby Surround Sound 5.1, Mr. Xanatos."
"Excellent," Xanatos sat in a chair marked 'DIRECTOR' and smirked at Demona, who had moved in front of the Camera. "Okay, American Idol audition, Tape 1."
"Mr. Xanatos?"
"Yes, Owen?"
"This isn't an American Idol audition."
"Whoops. That's set for Next Week. My mistake. Okay, then. 'Chant a spell that will unknowingly, to me anyways, turn every person who sees and hears this broadcast into stone during the night' Audition, Tape 1."
Demona looked at him. “Shouldn’t you be making a convenient getaway right about now?” she said.
“Damnit!” Xanatos swore. “I’ve got to remember to read the script!” he turned and darted out the door.
Owen counted down his fingers to Demona, and the red light started blinking, indicating that the camera was recording.
Demona began chatting to the camera. “Kumbaya, abracadabra, canna remembe de damn wordies, hey presto!”
“Hold it!” Owen cried out. “This isn’t the spell you said…!”
“I know, but do you know how hard it is to remember Latin??!!” she snarled, and shot him with an energy blast.
"Urgh!" Owen grunted as the blast hit him. "Damn! What, did you have Mexican for lunch or something?!?"
Demona blasted him again, and Owen went petrified, unable to move. As he stared out of his eye sockets, unable to lift a finger, Demona moved forward and seated him in a chair.
“Now,” Demona smiled evilly. “I shall do onto you what all humans have done onto me through out the centuries… But first!” She loaded videotape into the VCR, and pressed play.
“I love you! You love me!” the voice of the dreaded purple menace returned.
“MMMMMMmmmmm… !!!” Owen’s stifled voice attempted to scream, but unable to move his lips.
* * * * *
Elisa’s Apartment:

Elisa put on her badge, as she watched the late night news. She was just about to turn it off, when Demona’s face appeared on the screen.
“AAAAARRRGGGHHHHH!!!” Elisa screamed. “Oh wait, it’s only Demona reciting a bad spell that’s supposed to be Latin.” She said, and rushed out to get down to her precinct… Tripping over her cat on the way out.
“MEOWwwwwwwwwww!!!”

* * * * *
DOWNTOWN
TV SHOP
The Weird Sisters stared through the glass at the broadcast on the TV monitors playing. "Isn't this exciting, Luna? It begins again!"
The other two looked at her.
"Happy Hour?"
"Presidential Election?"
"No... Barney hunt!"
"YEA!" The other two crowed cheerfully. "DEATH TO BARNEY!!"
“But first,” Phoebe, the blonde one said. “We’d better see to Demona and Macbeth, before they kill each other?”
“Oh yadda yadda yadda,” Selene, the dark-haired one, moaned. “975 years of them, and do they ever call, write, or send a Christmas card? No!”
Luna replied. “We’ve put up with them long enough, a little longer won’t hurt.”
Selene grumbled. “Just remind me to take them off my shopping list.”
* * * * *
Scotland: 1020 A.D:

A group of Scottish soldiers stood outside, guarding the barns containing the food that most of Scotland needed to survive.
“Where the hell is Mickey?!” one of them moaned. “He was supposed to pinch some of the snacks an hour ago.”
Suddenly, a loud moaning noise sounded all around them.
“Sounds like Mr and Mrs Johnston are at it again?” the guard said.
All of a sudden, a loud roar bellowed from the heavens, and a couple of Gargoyle dove from the sky, throwing a net onto the stunned guards.
“God damn!” they yelled. “If this is another insurance sale…?!”
An old and decrepit Gargoyle who unbelievably was once a beautiful sexy female, smashed the locks of the barn, and sending her warriors to steal the rest of the food.
“HANG ON!” she suddenly screeched. “THERE’S A CHOCIE NUT BAR MISSING FROM HERE!” She turned to stare murderously at the cowering guards.
“Okay, okay, yeesh!” one of them produced the candy bar. “You can’t let anything go, you people, can you.”
Demona smirked, and reached to pull something out of her pouch.
The guards all flinched in unbridled fear. “NO!” they cried out. “Not THAT!!!”
Demona smiled evilly. “Yes… THIS!” She pulled out a picture of Broadway and Hudson in tight skimpy bikini bottoms, shoving the picture right into the guard’s faces.
“AAAAARRRGGHHHHH!!!” the guards all soon died from sheer horror, their hearts giving out.
* * * * *
Gargoyle’s Cavern:
As the Clan entered the cave, Demona, toting two large bags behind her, opened one of the bags and began distributing its’ contents to the other Gargoyles.
One male stared in confusion at what he held. “Why am I holding a child’s doll?”
Another mirrored his question. “What gives with this fire truck? They haven’t been invented yet!”
Demona frowned, and, looking down at her bag, threw it open wider, revealing a bunch of various toys. “Oops. Damn. How did I end up with Santa Claus’ cargo?”
Two of the gargoyles looked at each other, then back at her. “This other bag is the food, right?”
Demona checked it, and nodded. “Knock yourselves out.”
“Okay…” And the Gargoyle reached for a nearby boulder.
“Not literally, you idiots!”
Another Gargoyle started looking pissed. “I’m tired of living like a refugee from a circus. I don’t see why we can’t just make peace with the humans. Maybe buy them some Granola bars or something.”
A shadow fell upon him, and Demona grabbed him and threw him across the cave.
“I CAN’T STAND GRANOLA BARS!” she screeched. “And another thing… Do you think the Humans want peace? We’re all that’s left of our kind in this world. And the Hunter is after each and every one of us!”
Demona snarled. “I will NOT let him take my last Chocie nut bar… Neither will I let him win.”
“We bring word of the Hunter,” a croaked voice sounded from beside her.
Demona turned and saw three old haggard Gargoyle females by the cave’s entrance. “Gee-suss!” she cried. “Who let the 3 Gorgons in?!”
The 3 sisters snorted. “Looked in the mirror yourself lately, prune-face?” the brunette said sarcastically.
“Ever hear of a face-lift?” the blonde one followed.
“Wrong century,” the white-haired one whispered to her sister.
Demona snarled. “How would you like me to take those wrinkled faces of yours and shove them night into… “
“Hey!” the author yelled. “People, we are on a very tight budget here! Stick to the script!”

“What script???” everyone asked.
Demona shook her head. “Whatever, just… tell me your news, get out of here, and while you’re at it… Give me the results of the next superbowl!”
The brunette pointed at her. “The big H stalks a new Human target tonight at Castle Moray.”
"Triple H?!?"
"No, you red-headed baboon! The big H! As in 'Hunter'."
"Oh."
The Weird Sisters rolled their eyes.
The white-haired one hobbled forward. “If you and clan Moray alley against your common enemy, you CAN destroy Barney… And quite possibly the Hunter, too.”
Author: “All right! Enough with the ‘Kill Barney’ jokes! That’s getting old!”

They all sneered at the Author. "Never! We want Barney decapitated, mutilated, gutted, and hang on a football post to dry!"
Suddenly, bunnies appear on everyone's heads from out of nowhere. Demona starts screaming in panic. "Okay! Okay! We'll stop!"
The bunnies disappeared.
Demona wiped her brow. "Whew!" she sighed in relief, and then looked back to the sisters. “I need no Human allies, let the Hunter strike. For when he does, the IRS will come down on him like a clan of Broadways… And so will I!”
* * * * *
Castle Moray:
“Go fish,” a young feminine voice said.
Lord Moray, the High Steward, defender of the helpless and of the faith, stared at the young pretty girl in front of him.
“Straight house!” he cheered. “Read’ em and weep. Now get them off!”
The young lady Gruoach looked confused at the High Steward. “My lord, are you sure it’s all right for us to be playing strip poker?”
“Course I’m sure, now get’ em off,” he said, goggle-eyed.
“Lord Moray,” Gruoach's father voiced. “How’s about letting young Macbeth here having a go? See if he’s a match for her.”
“Let him get his own… “
“I’d be very glad to,” Macbeth interrupted, and walked forward. “My lady.”
Lord Moray grumbled, and went back to sit at his table.
“Aye that Macbeth is a good boy,” Gruoach’s father praised.
Lord Moray snorted. “You wouldn’t think so with all the noise he makes from reading those Playboy magazines every night.”
“He’s certainly a sight more better than his cousin Prince Duncan.”
“Aye, it’s a fact that old Dorky haircut will rule,” Lord Moray said despairing.
“He’s young yet,” his friend said comfortingly. “The weight of a crown should settle him a bit… And if it doesn’t, the extra thirty tonnes of dynamite in it should help more.”
Moray nodded. “But he’ll be our king, poor or less. And by the Seal of Moray, I say…if he tries to make us all wear that stupid hairstyle of his, it’ll be war! No mistake bout that!”
“Aye, no man caught dead in that haircut would heesa be.”
Moray looked at him, confused. “What? Why the hell are you suddenly talking like Jar Jar Binks?”
Grouch’s father frowned. “Meesa not talk like Jar Jar.”
The Author glared at them. “Stop talking like some fictional alien freak and stick to your Scottish, you damn idiots!”

Both men looked up at him, Grouch’s Old Man looking especially looking apologetic. “So sorry, my young lad.”
“See? Truly sorry remorseful character be. Jar Jar nosa lie.”
The author glared at the Alien freakazoid, who had spoken from his spot. He was tied upside down by a very thin rope (more like string, really) around his left ankle, above a tank full of vicious flesh-eating Piranha.

“Just shut up and die already, you bastard!”
Jar Jar fell into the tank, and the Author returned his focus on the parody, ignoring the screams and the fast rise of blood in the tank water.

“Well, I think it be time for me to take Gruoach up to her room,” Gruoach’s father said, as he led his daughter away.
“Git!” Lord Moray swore. “Okay, shorty. Take them up to their room.”
Macbeth did as he was told, and left with them, leaving his father alone with his favourite drink.
“Ah, good old Black Russia,” he gulped it down. “Damn it! Has Macbeth been having a sip while I’ve not been looking?” he clapped his hands, thinking for some reason that anyone would be able to hear him through heavy oak doors and stone walls.
“I need to be getting me a Radio transmission kit or something,” he said, until the door at last opened. “About time, too, you… “ he gasped.
A man in a black suit, a briefcase, and a snotty expression stared at him. “Good evening,” he said. “I’m Mr Williams from the IRS. I’m here… “
“Wait your turn!!” The Hunter cried out, pushing the man aside, with his sword drawn.
“Arrgh, a Hunter! But who sent ye to moon me?!”
“I’m not here to moon you! I’m here to kill you!”
Moray turned ghost-white. “No, do not kill me! I will give you my sword!” He leapt up and slashed at the Hunter, who dodged it. “See?”
“I will meet your slash and raise you a stab!” The masked man thrust the sword at him.
Mr. Williams got to his feet. “Excuse me, you freaky sword-toting thug. But I have an appointment with Lord Moray that I must kee-“
The Hunter’s sword lashed out, decapitating him. The Hunter kicked the IRS’ man’s head away. “Good riddance.”
“Father!” Macbeth cried, as he saw his father doing battle.
“Don’t interfere, son!” Moray said, as he lashed his sword. “I have everything completely under… “ The Hunter lashed out, battering his sword away, and then headbutt the lord into a wall, knocking him down.
“… control… “ Moray said, as he swooned down the wall.
“Yeeeaaarrrrgghhhhhh!” Macbeth roared, as he dove at the Hunter.
“Get lost, shrimp boy!” the Hunter sneered.
Macbeth’s face turned red, and he attacked without mercy.
“Macbeth!” the Lady Gruoach cried, as she saw him do battle. “My God, don’t ye look all sweaty! Have you ever thought about trying this new deodorant, it really helps keep your sweat down to a minimum… “
The Hunter battered Macbeth’s sword away.
“Oh wait, I see you’re busy,” Gruoach said. “So I’ll just come down and show you a sample.”
“Daughter, will ye get a grip!” Gruoach’s father shouted. “The boy’s fighting to his death for Christ’s sake!”
"But I have to plug this product... AHHHH!!!"
The reason she'd screamed was because Demona had leapt into the fray, knocking into her accidentally. Unfortunately, doing so also knocked Moray off the balcony and he plummeted to his death.
His last words were, "Macbeth! Take care of your never-seen-but-always-off-camera Mother!"
He died.
Macbeth dropped to his knees and screamed a thousand curses in differing languages. Then he looked up and noticed the Hunter was gone. Macbeth looked around. ‘Where’d he go?”
Then he spotted The Hunter standing stone-still against the Castle wall, not moving in the slightest. “Aye! What th’ hell do ye think ye are doing?”
“Trying to blend in with the wall so you don’t see me… AYE CRIKEY! Ye saw me!!”
“That’s right! And now I’m going to kill ye for what ye did to my father!”
“Ye had better save your girlfriend first. If she dies, then ye will have no personal motivation, well aside from protecting ye country, to do things like, say, make a pact with powerful witches to trade your age with a she-devil Gargoyle, thus linking yourself with her eternally. In short, the plot would stop right here…”
Macbeth gasped. “You’re right!”
He rushed to Gruoach and pulled her to safety. When looked back up, The Hunter was gone again. And this time he was NOT blending in.
“Damnit!”

DUNCAN’S CASTLE
Prince Duncan, sitting at the Table playing with a Gameboy, looks up and notices the Camera staring at him. He quickly gasps and hides the electronic device beneath the table.
The door opens and the Hunter entered. He removed his mask, revealing himself to be GILLECOMGAIN. He looked at the camera for a second. :”As if anybody couldn’t guess who I was,” He looked away from the Camera and addressed Duncan. “It has been done as ye have commanded. Luach sleeps with the fishes now.”
“And Macbeth?”
“Still free to drool in his sleep.”
“Ah, never mind,” Duncan scoffed. “No one with such a playboy obsession can ever hope to be king.” He whistled through his fingers. “YO, Miss April, May, and June! Get your butts in here and bug on the grub!”
“Common as muck,” the Hunter frowned, but his eyes lit up when the three lovely ladies who bore an uncanny resemblance to each other, but were completely different people, came in.
“Hello, nurses!” the Hunter grinned.
“Steady, sailor,” Duncan said, holding the Hunter back. “For your service tonight, I will make you the High Steward of Moray!”
The Hunter looked at him aghast. “But you promised you would never mention that! I was drunk, you can’t prove a thing… “
“No!” Duncan hissed. “I meant after that, at Castle Moray!”
“It was dark, I couldn’t see very well,” the Hunter continued. “I thought he was the maid!”
“Lord Moray, you fool!” Duncan waved his hands in defeat.
“No, that was last October, during the… “
“Oh forget it!” Duncan cried out, storming off. “I’ll give it to you in writing… and NO, I don’t mean the ads!”
* * * * *
Goliath growled up and looked up at the Author. "Could you come back to us now? There's been enough flashback."
The Author snorted dismissively. "Be patient. I'll get back to you and your clan eventually."
* * * * *
Macbeth’s Mansion:
Macbeth ignored the words coming out from his enemy’s mouth, as she recited the words of an ancient spell on television. He kept his eyes closed, as magic could only work if you both saw and heard it, otherwise it was useless.
He reached into his pocket, pulling the Hunter’s mask, placing it over his own head. The man who had once worn this mask had murdered Macbeth’s father, and had even tried killing him in the process. Now he was wearing it himself… Ironic.
Macbeth turned off his monitors and got up from his seat. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the final confrontation with his long-time enemy, walked out his security room and...
[BANG!]
“Och, confound it!!” Macbeth swore, rubbing his head. “How the devil are you supposed to see where you’re going through a mask with no eyeholes in it?!!!”
* * * * *
Eyrie Building:
Xanatos boarded the helicopter, preparing to depart.
“Take my advice, David,” Fox’s voice said beside him. “That goatee of yours is sooo trekkie… Also, the TV broadcast of yours is about as exciting as a trip to the dentist without an anaesthetic.”
Xanatos eyed her curiously. “I wouldn’t know, a I didn’t watch it… and neither should have you.”
Fox shrugged. “What can I say?… ” she began
“Well, you can tell me you love me, you’re going to sign me over all your worldly goods and money, you’re gonna have a kid that isn’t gonna be some freak with big magic powers, we’re not gonna have your mother in law come stay with us, and… “
“It was a figure of speech!” Fox growled at him inwardly. “And for your information, I happen to get on great with my mother!”
“Yeah, considering the amount of time you spend with her,” Xanatos moaned. “I swear there’s something not quite right about her. I think she’s a fairy.”
Fox glared at him. “My mother is very straight, thank you!”
“Not that kind of fairy!”
Suddenly, the sound of his cellphone rang, and Xanatos snatched it up, grateful for the interruption. “Hello?”
“Mr Xanatos,” Owen’s crisp voice sounded nervous. “We have a problem… “
“Damn!” Xanatos swore. “Hasn’t my order of playboy magazines come in yet?”
“No, not that…
"Did Broadway burn his Hot Pockets in the microwave again?! What do I care about that!? He no longer stays with us!"
"That's not it, either..."
"The security Guard wanted a tip?"
"NO!" Owen shouted, then tried to calm himself. "The spell that Demona cast wasn’t the one she said it was… “
“What do you mean the spell wasn’t the one that she said it was, wasn’t?” Xanatos said. “What do you mean?”
“I mean… The spell that I just said, the one that Demona did, the one she said would do something, isn’t the one that she said would do something, but in fact did something completely different.”
“So what about the she said would do something that you said it didn’t do, that she promised, and that I want?”
But before Owen could go into another memorable long verse of pointless and totally meaningless driffle… He turned to stone.
“What the…?!” Xanatos said, as the helicopter suddenly shot forward. “Fox! Have you been on the… Huh?!”
He turned to see a garden gnome sitting where she had been moments ago, paused at the helicopter’s joystick.
“Oh crap,” Xanatos moaned. "I'm married to a spokesman for Travel city. Imagine what our children would look like."
* * * * *
Clocktower:

As the sun sank, The Clan broke out of their shells, stretching as they did so. Brooklyn's arm snapping up and accidentally knocking Broadway off the tower. The Gargoyle ignored his rookery brother's startled scream as he plummeted, and turned away.
"What a night." Brooklyn grunted. "I wonder where my 'Easyriders' tape is?"
“Maybe tonight will be a lot quieter than last night?” Lex said hopefully.
As they all went inside the Clocktower, they soon came upon a terrifying sight…
“HUDSON!!” Goliath roared. “I thought we agreed you would do your laundry at the end of the week, at the launderettes!”
“Aye, but I ran out of loincloths!” Hudson argued.
“Err, guys?” Brooklyn said, pointing to an odd life-size garden gnome standing in their home. “Why is there a giant gnome standing in our home… Hey, that rhythms!”
“Ugh, what a ugly garden variety!” Broadway said, poking the statue. “Though there is something unearthly familiar about it.”
“But why would anyone send us a statue?” Hudson asked wondering. “The postman doesn’t even come this late.”
“It looks a little like Elisa,” Lex said wondering.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Brooklyn replied. “The nose is way too perfect. But it must be from her, I guess. Michael Jackson would be proud.” He poked the statue’s nose, wincing as it suddenly broke off, shattering into pebbles on the floor.
“Uh… oops…”
Goliath stood up to the statue. “Why would Elisa send us a wacko gnome of herself?” He gently touched the statue, and then said, “We must see to it that nothing happens to this… “ He never got to finish, for as soon as he turned around, his tail accidentally whacked the giant gnome, and sent it hurling down the stairs, shattering into countless pieces.
“Err, Broadway?” Goliath looked at him.
Broadway sighed. “I know… I’ll get the superglue.”
* * * * *
Scotland; 1032 AD:

“How can you do this to us, Bodhe?” Macbeth pleaded with Gruoach’s father.
Bodhe stood practising his archery. “Gruoach’s my daughter, and it’s my right to marry her off to anyone I wish.” He shot an arrow.
“OW!”
“Ah, quit your belly-aching!” Bodhe called to the young stable-lad, with the arrow in his arm. “Tis only a flesh-wound!” He then looked to Macbeth. “The truth is, lad, ol’ dorky haircut has ordered this marriage. Now you know I would never ever do anything for that stupid Nancy boy… but he’s the one who pays me bills, so I have no choice.”
“Then me and Gruoch will quit this castle, find ourselves a new home!” Macbeth insisted.
“And where would ye go?” Bodhe asked. “Disneyland? There’s no safe place… If ye can’t think of yourself, then I pray you think of my daughter.”
Macbeth sighed in defeat. “There goes the Hawaiian honeymoon then,” he muttered.
“Ach, don’t worry,” Bodhe told him. “I promise you, I’ll take good care of that,” he said, as he eyed a young pretty milking maid in the courtyard. “And someone, for God’s sake, pick up that moaning, bleeding lad off the ground!”
* * * * *
Next Day:

Gillecomgain and Gruoch were soon married, though to say it were a happy wedding would be stressing it.
“My bride, the lady Gillecomgain!” the lord of Moray announced to the crowd.
“Terrific,” Bodhe muttered. “Just what I’ve always wanted… a son in law with the face of a badger.”
“Ohhh look,” some of the crowd said, loosing their attention on the wedding. “Prince Duncan’s firstborn!” They instantly ran up to Duncan as he held his newborn son up to the crowd to see. “How cute!”
Macbeth whispered to one of his friends. “Cute??? That kid looks like something Duncan just pulled out of the pigpen.”
Unfortunately, Duncan overheard him at that precise moment.
“Make fun of my wee babe, will ya?” Duncan swore… even if what he said was partly true.
“Gillecomgain!” he called to his friend and servant. “A private word in your chamber.”
Gillecomgain silenced him. “My lord, please. I thought we agreed that we weren’t going to do that anymore. And even so, it isn’t even after dark yet… “
“Not that!” Duncan hissed. “I want you to arrange an accident for my cousin, Macbeth.”
Gillecomgain shook his head. “Can’t do that, my lord,” he told him. “Ol’ Maccy is a fan to the people… some people just really get off at that accent of his.”
Duncan stared at him. “We’re in Scotland… everybody has that accent!”
Gillecomgain shrugged. “Yeah, but only he can pull it off.”
“Think well before you defy me,” Duncan warned him.
“Think well before you defy me, my lord,” he sneered at his lord and prince. “Never forget, I know your hairdresser.”
Duncan winced.
* * * * *
Later That Night;
“And that’s what happens when you mix Ex-lax in tea… “
“Well, that’s certainly interesting,” Macbeth said, “but what’s it got to do with what you called me here for?”
Duncan walked before the fireplace, acting all mysterious and broody. “I’ve learnt the secret identity of the Hunter,” he said, in a classic show of overacting if ever there had been one. “Oh, it’s terrible!”
“So’s your acting,” Macbeth told him. “Now shut up and just tell me!”
“Ohhh, look who got up the wrong side of bed this morning,” Duncan sneered. “Well, if you must know, it’s none other than… Gillecomgain!”
Macbeth growled in anguish, even though he wasn’t a Gargoyle. “You mean I just sold the woman I love to the guy with the bad complexion… who happens to be the man who killed my father in the first place?!”
Duncan nodded and then looked at him curiously. “Just out of curiosity,” he said. “Didn’t it ever occur to you how odd it was that Gillecomgain has the same scars over his face, as the Hunter has over his mask? I mean, don’t you think that was some clue?”
Macbeth shrugged. “I just thought it was a fashion trend. But leave it to me, I’ll deal with stripy… one way or the other!”
* * * * *
Same Time, Demona’s Cave:
“The big H will resurface tonight at Castle Moray,” one of the Wyrd sisters told Demona, standing before her.
“We offer you another opportunity,” the blonde one who was just as grotesque as the others, but who seemed to be gaining the attention of a near-sighted Gargoyle in the ranks, continued.
“To get the results of the next lottery?!” Demona asked excitedly.
“No, to ally yourself with Macbeth of clan Moray,” the crone said, getting nervous from the drooling stare of the small Gargoyle.
“Never!” Demona declared. “Myself with a human… the media would have a field day!”
The sisters groaned. “Everyone in this fic are all sex mad,” they agreed. “We mean for you to ally yourself with him so that you can get your revenge on the blasted Hunter… Nothing else!”
“Oh,” Demona realised. “Well… that works, too.”
The sisters smiled at each other, except for the blonde one who kept one step ahead of the perverted Gargoyle trying to crawl up behind her. “There was a reason why we chose to appear as gross old crones, you know,” she told him. “GO SEE AN OPTICIAN!”
* * * * *
Later:
Gillecomgain walked out onto the battlements, starring dramatically over the vast hills of Scotland, as his beautiful but obviously dizzy wife sat, smelling the rose in her hand.
“Go inside and see to the fire,” he told her, as she shrugged him off.
Gruoch did as she was told, going inside, leaving the rose behind.
Gillecomgain picked the rose up, sniffing at it. “Geez,” he snorted. “Where’d she get this thing, straight off the manure pile?” He crushed the flower underfoot.
“Turn, villain!” a strong voice sounded. “Turn and draw your sword! Or I’ll strike you down like the cowardly dog you are!”
Gillecomgain cocked his eyebrow at him. “You talking to me, or about your mongrel father?”
Macbeth roared, striking at the blackguard with all his might.
“Yikes!” Gillecomgain jumped out he way. “Some people just get so touchy.”
From below in the castle, Gruoch heard all the commotion above. Wondering what was happening, she went above to investigate.
“My lord, I heard voices?” she said, as she came out onto the battlements, and saw to her surprise Macbeth.
Macbeth felt like swooning, as Gillecomgain grabbed Gruoch, holding her hostage. “Gruoch my love,” he told her. “You are without a doubt the most beautiful girl in all of Scotland… but when it comes to brains, stealth and quickness, you are undoubtedly at the shallow end of the gene pool to be sure.” He sighed, kneeling before the Hunter, holding out his sword (which frankly, to me, shows what an even bigger moron he is… I mean, does he really think the guy will let either of them live, now that they know his secret?)
“But what is the Hunter… without his prey,” Gillecomgain breathed, and reached into his pocket, pulling out a mask and slipping it on.
Demona and Macbeth gaped. Grouch looked up at Gillecomgain in shock. Then they all began to laugh and point… at his clown mask.
Gillecomgain looked around at all of them. "What?"
Macbeth was still snickering. "Aye, Bozo be wanting his face back, sir."
Suddenly, a high screech filled the air, and the Gargoyle who would one day be known as Demona entered the scene.
“Still laughing, Hunter?” she warned him. “Come, meet your end!”
“Meet it?” he said. “I can’t even see it! Oh well… “ He threw Gruoch to the side, and ran into battle, his sword drawn.
Grouch screamed, as she was knocked backwards off the parapets, but she managed to get one hand and one foot back on the stone floor, and was hanging on for dear life.
Macbeth cupped his hands around his mouth. "Stay calm and DON'T LOOK DOWN!"
"Help me, ye bloody idiot!!" Grouch shouted back. "Och, why did I have to smear Vaseline on the towers?!"
“How the devil have you managed to hide your secret so well all these years?” Demona asked the Hunter, as they fought. “Your scars, the scars on the mask… didn’t anyone thought it strange?”
Gillecomgain shrugged. “People are just thick, I guess… especially in the middle ages.”
Demona thrust her sword at him.
“HA! You think you can take me down by striking at a pillar of stone, monster filth!” he taunted her… just before the stone she had been striking at, crumbled and fell down on him. “Ohhh crap… “ He fell over backwards.
Demona laughed in triumphant, but all too soon, as Gillecomgain reached out, grabbing her and pulling her down with him over the side. “Ohhh come on! This is just not my night!”
Fortunately, Macbeth raced to her just in time, grabbing her arm and pulling her up.
“Wait!” Gillecomgain called. “You can’t do this! She’s a Gargoyle, a monster, a villain… and she doesn’t pay taxes!”
Macbeth thought about it for a moment… “I’ll take my chances,” he said finally, and kicked Gillecomgain in the jaw.
As he fell to his death, Gillecomgain screamed… “THE I.R.S. IS EVERYWHERE!!!”
* * * * *

Jeffrey Robbins Residence; Present Time:
The Gargoyles flew over the house of Hudson’s friend, Jeffrey Robbins, which Hudson pointed out to excitedly.
“There’s the house of my friend, Jeffrey Robbins,” he said.
Thirty seconds later, Hudson crashed headfirst into a satellite dish perched on the roof. From inside the house, they heard "Damnit! I was trying to watch HBO!" followed by a string of cursing.
Hudson shrugged at the others. "Oops."
"Let us glide down," Goliath rumbled.
As they descended onto the ground, they noticed more statues of life-size gnomes littered around the area.
“God, it’s like David the Gnome’s family reunion around here!” Goliath moaned.
Broadway glided down. Unfortunately, it wasn’t so much of him gliding down as he was crashing down. Everyone gathered around, staring down into the crater Broadway had made.
“Christ,” Goliath rumbled. “What a fat ass. Hey! Broadway, what are you doing here??? You’re not in this scene! Get out of here!”
They went up to the front door, knocking it. From inside, the loud barking of a large dog sounded.
“Hello?” Jeffrey asked, as he opened the door. “Sorry about my dog, but she hasn’t been walked in a while, and she's been humping my leg a lot lately and… “
“It’s me, old friend,” Hudson said, getting down on all fours.
“Hudson!” Brooklyn hissed. “We don’t have time for that sort of thing! Let’s deal with one crisis at a time, and then you can come back here, get down on your fours, and you and Jeff here can have all the fun you can have.”
Hudson glared at him. “For your information, lad… I was going to stroke the dog!”
Brooklyn raised an eyebrow. “Um..."
Hudson growled. "Not like that, laddie!"
“Ah,” Brooklyn blushed (though you couldn’t see it on his hue skin).
Hudson beckoned to the friendly dog that walked up to him, sniffed at him… and then cocked its leg up against his flank.
“Ah, blast it!!!” Hudson cursed in his own Scottish way. "Get tha hell off me leg!"
Robbins reached down to pull his dog away. "Hudson, come in! Come in!"
The clan entered the house, Hudson going in dead last, and tripping over a Gnome as he did so. "Blast!"
As they entered the house, Brooklyn’s eyes immediately went over to the Television screen that was now playing…
Uh uh uh uh UHHHHHH…!

“Excuse me!” Robbins immediately switched his VCR off. “I was… doing some research for a book I’m writing.”
“What book?” Lex asked smugly. “The reproductive process?”
Robbins blushed.
Suddenly, Demona’s face came on the screen.
“What the devil?!”
“Oh, now this is a real bitch!” Brooklyn swore. “It’s bad enough she’s trying to kill us all the time… but now she’s got her own TV show?!”
“Lexington, turn the sound off!” Goliath ordered, and Lex was quick to obey, throwing himself at the TV… head-butting the mute button as he did so.
“Ohhh crap,” Lex slid to the floor.
“Anyway, I was watching TV earlier…” Robbins started to say before Brooklyn interrupted him.
“Doing your ‘research’?” And Lex snickered alongside him.
“Och! Enough! I’ll not have ye insulting me only human friend!” Hudson raged, whacking Lexington on the back of the head with the blunt end of his sword.
“OW! What did I do?!” Lex whined, rubbing the back of his head and glaring at him.
“Calm down, laddie!”
Robbins continued. “I was watching TV, when this strange woman came in out of nowhere and began chanting in this bad Latin dialect. I haven’t a clue what she was saying, so I quickly got bored easily and fell asleep.”
“We have to go, hurry!” Goliath quickly said.
“Oh, boy” Broadway gushed happily with the enthusiasm of a toddler getting his first piece of candy. “ICE CREAM!!”
Brooklyn rolled his eyes. “No, moron. We’re going to go investigate the strange goings-on.”
“Can we stop for Ice Cream afterwards?”
“No.”
“DAMN!”
“Hudson?” Robbins said, reaching out, grabbing the sleeve of his old friend. “What’s going on here? You’re not letting on everything… “
Brooklyn and Lexington stared at him for a while.
“Do you think we ought to tell him that he’s talking to one of his curtains?” Lex whispered.
“Nah,” Brooklyn whispered back. “He’s not in this episode much anyway.”
* * * * *
Somewhere Over Manhattan:
“Gee-zus!” Goliath said, soaring above the petrified city. “It’s like everyone’s been forced to watch the president’s speech out here! Who would have thought that Demona would have this much power!”
“I wouldn’t put anything past Demona,” Brooklyn replied. “Except for wherever the hell she got her hair done. I mean, they didn’t even have punk rocker hairstyles back in our day, yet she somehow managed to pull it off!”
FLASHBACK (980 A.D.)
The young fiery-haired female who would someday ferociously known as Demona stood on the beach below the Castle Hilltop, gazing at the waves crashing against the rocks, and lovely, star-filled night sky.
“How lovely…”
Then suddenly, out of nowhere, storm clouds sprang out of nowhere, and a lightning bolt hit Demona, with a squeal of pain and a puff of smoke. It ended quickly, though.
“Thank the Dragon that I am unharmed.” For no reason whatsoever, she conveniently reached up and felt her hair, frowning at the now-spiky, wild do and many, many split ends. Her hair had been dangling lifelessly down her shoulders and back earlier (Think of it as exactly like Angela’s do, only Red), but now…
“The hell?”
Demona peered at her reflection in the water and nearly screamed.
“My hair! My beautiful hair! What will I do now?!” Then, as an afterthought, “Hey, this could really work for me…”
END FLASHBACK.
MANHATTAN
Goliath glared at the Author. “Remember what I said about the Flashbacks?!”
AVALON, LAST WEEKEND (OUR TIME)
Goliath crossed his arms. “Don’t even try it.”
IRRELEVENT PLACE WHERE SOMETHING RANDOM HAPPENED 3 HRS. AGO.

Goliath growled. “Want me to rip your head off, Author?”
FINE. YOU WIN.
Goliath smiled. “Thank you.”
OVER-SIZED ASSHOLE.
Goliath snarled. “That’s Broadway, thank you very much!”
Goliath then looked over to the rest of them. “We will split up into teams,” he said. “Lexington, you will return to the Clocktower and inform Broadway of all that’s happened, and then together you will search the south side. Hudson will search the North side.”
“Great!” Brooklyn said excitedly. “I’ll go east, and check out the porn stores they have there too.”
“Brooklyn!” Goliath said, growling lowly. “You will come with me, and we will go west.”
“Oh, geez!”
"NO complaining!"
BEAKY-BOY IS PRETTY HOT.

Brooklyn beamed up at the Author, while Goliath glared up at him. "You stay out of this!"
* * * * *
On the other side of Manhattan, Demona walked up to a gnome statue of Owen Burnett, armed with a large mace, grinning evilly.
“This’ll teach you to make fun of my Latin!” she swore, rising up to strike the killing blow.
“Hold it right there!” Xanatos’s voice commanded.
“Curses!” Demona swore. “What, do you have warp travel or something?! How’d the hell did you get all the way across town in time to stop me?!”
“You’d be amazed at how fast a cab is, once you get rid of the driver,” Xanatos told her. He smashed the control panel with a laser gun that he pulled out of Hammerspace. "I'm cancelling your show."
Demona began to cackle. "Fool human. You just smashed the wrong panel!"
"What?" Xanatos looked confused. "Then what panel did I smash?"
He looked up at the row of TV monitors in time to see 2 shows vanish, transforming into static. "Joey", and Barney.
"Damnit!:" Xanatos cursed. "Wait, maybe that's not such a bad thing. At least I did everyone a favour."
Demona snarled, and rushed at Xanatos. She smacked the gun out of his hand, and prepared to hurl him out the window.
“Prepare to meet your maker, Human filth!” she growled, only to stop. She stared at something across the room. “You!”
“Me!” Macbeth cried out, but not seeing anything of her, as the damn mask made him as blind as a bat.
“How many times must I kill you!” Demona dropped Xanatos, preparing to rush at the Hunter.
Macbeth couldn’t see her, but he could hear her. Hearing her footsteps, he started firing his weapon at her.
"AAARGH!" Xanatos cried. “You stupid blind asshole! Why’d you shoot me for?!”
“Sorry!” Macbeth said, preparing to fire again.
“No, wait… AAARGH! Damn motherfu… OWWW!”
“Sorry!” Macbeth repeated.
Meanwhile, Demona silently tiptoed away, making her way to the roof.
“Hey, get back here!” Macbeth cried, hearing her footsteps, and tried to make a run for her… only for him to smash into a wall.
“Oh for,” Macbeth swore, grabbing the mask and pulling it off.
“It’s you,” Demona said, recognising him. “God, haven’t you ever heard of a facial?!” She raced out onto the floor, Macbeth hard on her heals.
“For your information,” Macbeth yelled after her. “Many people are into grey hair, and soft but muscularly skin!”

* * * * *
A Few Minutes Later (Ever notice the Gargoyles are always that last few moments too late?):
Goliath and Brooklyn soon walked into Pack Media Studios, studying the scene before them.
“I hope they fired the special effects manager?” Brooklyn snorted.
“Ah, the cavalry’s arrived, I see,” Xanatos said from behind one of the control desks. “Too late, as always though.”
“You were partners in this sorcery,” Goliath deduced, accusing his enemy.
“Duh!” Xanatos replied. “Like I’m gonna miss out on an opportunity to avoid going grey haired, bald, gaining liver spots, and backaches.”
“You numbskull!” Goliath roared. “I should make you pay for all the lives she’s destroyed tonight!”
“Oh boo woo,” Xanatos told him. “And how do you think you’re gonna stop her then? This is bigger than any of us have ever faced before… and I’m not talking about the night when you and Elisa were together either… The only way we can hope to stop Demona, is to work together.”
They all stayed silent for a few minutes, and then finally they each said… “We’re doomed.”
Brooklyn snickered. “As doomed as an Ice Cream Cone sitting outside in July.”
Goliath rolled his eyes at the metaphor. “I agree.”
“As doomed as an Ant Hill at a mosh pit.”
“That’s enough now, Brooklyn.”
“As doomed as…”
“BROOKLYN!”
* * * * *
The Next Morning; Police Precinct:
The sun sat below the horizon, and unbeknownst to Elisa, she awoke from her own stone sleep.
“Turn on the TV, guys!” she said excitedly. “Sir Saw-A-Lot is having a sale on… Huh?” She looked around. “A minute ago it was sunset, now it’s morning??? Oh crap, don’t tell me I mixed up the powder jars again!”
No response. Only dead silence.
Elisa felt a sense of dread crawl up her belly. Or maybe it was from the salmonella she’d suffered several hours earlier. Either way, she felt slightly perturbed. “Why do I have gravel in my eyes? And… why is my nose upside down???”
* * * * *
Pack Media Studios; Same Time:
At the studios, Owen Burnett also came out of his stone sleep…
“I mean the spell that I said, the one that Demona did, the one she said would do something, isn’t the one that she said would do something, but in fact did something completely different, and is going to…. Ah?” Owen said, as he noticed the severed phone receiver and, placing it back in its’ cradle, turned around, seeing Xanatos in front of him. “I take it you know what’s happened?”
“City turned to stone, Demona going on a smashing spree, Goliath pissed off, yadda yadda yadda,” Xanatos replied. “You got anything for me we can use?”
Owen shrugged. “What am I, a miracle worker? Can’t you go hire a witch or something, I’m just your secretary!” He thought for a second, then his eyes brightened. “The Blair Witch hasn’t really done anything in the last century or so; why don’t you look her up?”
Xanatos snorted. “Fat lot of good you are.” He thought for a moment. “What was the exact translation of what Demona was saying by the way?”
“Oh God, you are one big magnificent… “
“No! The spell last night, not what she said last week!”
“Oh, err… All who see this, all who hear this shall turn to stone during the day till the skies burn… or something like that, I guess.”
“That’s it!” Xanatos snapped his fingers… out of which a big bunch of flowers suddenly popped out.
“What?” Owen said, cocking his eyebrow. “You suddenly realised you shouldn’t have taken those magic lessons last year?”
“No,” Xanatos replied. “I mean I know what we have to do to bring everyone out of their stone trance! We’ll make the sky burn!”
Owen looked weirdly at him. “And how do we do that?… Have Broadway fart all across the sky, and then light a match?”
“That could work.”
Owen blinked.
Xanatos shrugged. “Well, I was considering just having the Steel Clan spread some fuel packs around the city, and then exploding them… but that Broadway idea does sound a lot easier.”
To Be Continued.
Spontaneous place to leave off, I know, but I don’t give a shit. More is coming soon.
In the meantime, email me. href="mailto:KingCobra_582@hotmail.com">KingCobra_582@hotmail.com
28 Days until the Gathering… Man, I can’t wait…
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City Of Stone: The Parody