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Dancer via HH; and she also says to tell you how much she likes the other chapters
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Al B. Harper

Subj: The Princess and the Great North Star Chapter Six: "It looks like the file size of the naughty list is around nine hundred and thirty gigabytes."
Posted: Fri Dec 14, 2007 at 05:55:58 am EST
Reply Subj: The Princess and the Great North Star  Chapter Five: "Go Al B. Harper, Go!"
Posted: Thu Dec 13, 2007 at 08:28:39 pm EST (Viewed 1 times)

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The Princess and the Great North Star: Chapter Five “Go Al B. Harper, Go!”


The Hockenheimring, just outside of the town of Hokenheim, Baden-Württemberg, Germany, and home to the German Formula One Grand Prix.

Today it bares witness to a rather unusual race between just two cars. It is a race to determine who will be the next world champion! It is also a day of good versus evil, of money and wealth versus pure determination and a never-say-die attitude. Everything Hollywood would love.

Brock Brockson is the reigning world champion. The car he is casually leaning against is completely black except for the red logo of the Bland Corporation on its sides. It is the best car in its class that money can buy, which makes it the best in the world. Brock bares a striking resemblance to Dominic Clancy.

Al B. Harper is the current world number two. His car, while not as sophisticated as the multimillion dollar Bland vehicle, makes up for it through the individual modifications that Harper and his pit crew (led by able first mechanic Amy Aston) have introduced. It is all white except for a stylish blue racing stripe running the length of its sides.

There are two bikini clad women preparing to wave the checkered flag. One is a splitting image of Miss Muffy Framlicker, Al B.’s real-life business partner and former fiancé. The other is the splitting image of Kinki the Conqueress, time-travelling megalomaniac and the real-life mother of Al B’s two children.

Dancer turns to her companion, the fairy Cinderbelle, and says, rather dryly, “Well, of all the scenarios for Al B. to be dreaming of, this wasn’t one of my guesses.”

Al B. casually walks over to Brockson, extending a hand, “well, good luck…may the best man win.”

Brockson spits in the direction of Al B.’s feet. “Time to lose…loser.”

There are titters and giggles from Brockson’s crew as he jumps into his car.

Al B. shrugs and walks back to his own car, dubbed “Yuki II”.

Dancer turns to Cinderbelle. “Quick! We’ve got to get over there before they start!

They rush over to Al B., “Al, Al B. Harper! STOP!”

Al B. was about to get into his car but he turns at the calling of his name and recognises the woman calling him “Sarah Shepherdson, the pretty waitress with a heart of gold from the Bean n’ Donut. What are you doing here, and why are you naked?”

Dancer looks down at herself. “Eek! What happened to the chainmail!?” She grabs one of the checkered flags and wraps it around herself, well, as much as she can, which isn’t much.

Al B. looks at her again, “Oh wait, you’re not Sarah, I know you, you’re Dancer! How do I know that?”

“Because this is just a dream, and we need your help to find Zebulon!” replies Cinderbelle rather agitatedly.

“Zebulon…the elf? Wait, how do I know that?” Al B. asks.

Dancer grabs both of Al’s shoulders. “Al, we need to know, have you seen Zebulon in this dream?”

Al B. looks rather crestfallen. “A dream you say? Then…I won’t really be racing Mr Epitome, I mean Brock, and facing off his nefarious tricks like wheel spikes and oil slicks in order to win the day and deliver the message that a winning smile and honest attitude are all it takes to win the girl?...And…why are you naked again?”

Dancer looks down at herself. “Eek!” She picks up the flag which had dropped when she had both her hands on Al B’s shoulders and ties her best to cover her self with it once more.

“Right, well it doesn’t look like that thieving no-good is in this dream.” Cinderbelle states rather abruptly.

“Oh, boyfriend troubles?” Al B. innocently asks.

“He is NOT my boyfriend!” Cinderbelle replies with a look that could kill.

Dancer giggles, “Anyway, Al B. we need to find Zeb so Cindy here can get her fairy mojo back. We think he’s in one of the Legionnaire’s dreams. Want to help?”

Al B. looks at the two women. “Sure what the heck, it’s not like this dream is weird enough, jump in we can take my car.”

The two women jump in as Al B. revs the engine, puts his foot to the floor and the car screeches off before jumping through a fairy portal into the next dream.

“Oh no Harper,” shouts the nefarious Brock Brockson. “You don’t get away that easily!” He floors it on his own car which makes it through the portal just before it closes with a “POP”



to be continued




[The Scene: Dancer ducks]

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!

Cinderbelle, a Christmas fairy who’s chasing through the dreams of the Lair Legion and their friends trying to find her accidental husband Zebulon and retrieve her fairy dust (see previous chapters): Aaagh! What was that? I think my eyebrows are on fire.

Dancer, emerging from behind cover: That was my little sister Kerry. We’re in her dreams.

Cinderbelle: She just dreamed that the Eastern hemisphere of the United States of America exploded in a meteor strike!

Dancer: Well, she has to have quiet, peaceful dreams sometime. Come this way. Watch out for the bubbling gooey masses of burning human flesh.

Cinderbelle, picking her way round the pupils of the Hogan Academy: You’re related to this dreamer? And you admit it?

Dancer: This isn’t the worst thing about her. She also borrows your make-up and jewellery without asking. And there was also that time she sabotaged my underwear to fall off when I was on a date with Bradley Coulson at the F.A. Cup Final at Anfield. At least I blamed Kerry.

Cinderbelle, approaching the smouldered door of a Parodiopolis apartment: She’s in there? Is she killing someone? I hear screaming.

Dancer: I think she’s visiting her boyfriend Danny. This is his place. The screaming could be anything from sex to a debate about what movie to watch next.

Cinderbelle: This is so going on my naughty and nice list. [checks PDA] Wow. The system crashes when I try to access your sister’s file.

Dancer: That could be Hacker Nine. I think he was trying to break into Santa’s present list last Christmas.

Cinderbelle: No… it looks like the file size of the naughty list is around nine hundred and thirty gigabytes.

Dancer heads into Danny’s dream apartment: You know, if I was dreaming this there’d be less pizza boxes strewn across the floor. And bigger shoe closets.

Kerry, noticing her big sister has appeared in her dream: Aagh! What the hell are you doing here. Get off me, Danny. It’s another family-guilt-trip visit. Did mother send you? She usually sends Vizh.

Dancer: I know. Annoying, isn’t it? But better than sending Karl. Vizh tends not to get into fights with the furniture.

Kerry: Well, only the kitchen appliances.

Danny: Hey, Dancer. I wasn’t doing anything to Kerry. We were just… practising for a play.

Dancer: You’re doing Emmanuelle the Musical?

Cinderbelle, venturing in and shielding her eyes: Um, excuse me. I know you were… preoccupied… but you didn’t happen to see a little fellow did you?

Danny, uncomfortable: It’s cold in here. And there was a meteor strike.

Dancer: We’re looking for Zebulon. And some fairy dust. That’s not a euphemism.

Danny: ……..

Kerry: Zebulon? Zebulon the Elf? That elf that shot Dweebionary that one time, but didn’t ask to borrow my rocket launcher?

Cinderbelle: Now he’s shooting mortals? I thought he was bad enough when he was vilely being dragged under party trestles by clearly reindeer-peed-up helpless young fey girls, the swine.

Dancer: To be fair, shooting Visionary is kind of a special case.

Kerry: Almost a tradition. How many hearts has he gone through now?

Danny: He’s not here. No way were we playing hide the elf.

Dancer: ………

Kerry: What’s Zebulon done now? [perks up] He’s not finished that hyper-accelerant variant of napalm plus that we discussed as my Christmas present has he? Because if so there was no way I had anything to do with it being sprayed through Herbert Garrick’s letterbox.

Cinderbelle: He’s run off with something that belongs to me. [catches their glances] My bag of magic dust, I mean. Honestly, the quality of these dreams is going right into the gutter.

Danny: We weren’t thinking anything bad.

Cinderbelle: And your supervillain name is Denial, right? [checks naughty list]

Danny: That’s not my naughty list.

Dancer, spotting something: Kerry! Is that my underwear? Are you dreaming that you borrowed my underwear without asking??

Kerry, gesturing to the table lamp: Take it then. It’s not like it stays on properly anyway.

Cinderbelle: I’m guessing this isn’t where Zeb is hiding. Unless he’s even more perverted than that thing with the chocolate log suggested.

[The walls of Danny’s apartment crash down as a black and a white racing car burn through on a desperate struggle for penile supremacy]

Danny: What was that? Oh, and my wall isn’t all busted up.

Dancer: Oh, we got a ride here. I think our last dream is following us.

[Donar smashes a Gjarlentrjoll through the kitchen]

Dancer: And maybe the one before that.

Kerry: Hey, trolls hate fire, right? Yay!

Cinderbelle: I think we’d better go, before there’s another big bang.

Dancer, eyeing Danny and Kerry: I think that’s a good idea. Let’s be continued.

To be continued… please??


Original concepts, characters, and situations copyright © 2007 reserved by Sarah Shepherdson. Other Parodyverse characters copyright © 2007 to their creators. The use of characters and situations reminiscent of other popular works do not constitute a challenge to the copyrights or trademarks of those works. The right of Sarah Shepherdson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved.








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