Date: Thu, 2 Feb 1995 16:50:12 +1000 Reply-To: Grand Babbu Yoga Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Grand Babbu Yoga Subject: Funny Duncan Story ******************************WARNING************************************ THE FOLLOWING IS A RATHER IRREVERENT LOOK AT dUNCAN AND CREW, WHICH MAY OFFEND SO-CALLED 'PURISTS' OF THE GENRE FOR ITS LIGHT-HEARTEDNESS AND INACCURATE PORTRAYAL OF CHARACTERS. THIS IS INTENTIONAL. IT IS MEANTO TO BE *FUN*. IF YOU WANT SERIOUS PLOT, DIALOGUE AND SUCH, THEN DO NOT READ THIS. A SIMPLE CAVEAT FOR ALL POTENTIAL READERS. IN ADDITION, IT ALSO DEPICTS SCENES OF GRAPHIC VIOLENCE AND SITUATIONS OF CRUEL AND UNNATURAL CRUELTY. BUT IT IS DONE IN COMIC-BOOK STYLE, AND ANYONE WHO HAS SEEN 'PULP FICTION' WILL FIND IT MILD AND INOFFENSIVE. I WOULD ALSO LIKE TO TAKE THIS OPPORTUNITY TO POINT OU THAT I HAVE BEEN A HIGHLANDER FAN FOR A LONG TIME AND LOVE THE MOVIES AND THE SERIES, AND MY OBJECT IS NOT TO RIDICULE THE SHOW-JUST TO LAMPOON IT. IF THIS ARTICLE RECEIVES A GOOD RESPONSE THEN I SHALL WRITE MORE. IF NOT, I WILL ANYWAY :) I DON'T EXPECT TO BE FLAMED FOR THIS...I WILL RESPOND WITH A VENGEANCE TO ANYONE WHO FLAMES ME AFTER HAVING IGNORED THE ABOVE CAVEATS, AS THEY WERE WARNED. IF YOU'RE A STICK-IN-THE-MUD FANATIC, KEEP RIGHT AWAY. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. now, on with the story! It was a chilly autumn morning when Duncan macLeod experienced an adventure he would never forget. He never expected, while running a simple errand with Richie for Tessa, that on that morning he would fight some of the most powerful foes he had ever faced. Tessa had been whining all morning about Duncan drinking all the milk before she got up, and thus he and Richie had fled her vengeful wrath, seeking a way to appease her. They decided to visit the 7-11 and buy 400 litres of milk (such expenses are nothing when you've been gaining interest on a bank account for 400 years...) to shut her up. Pulling into the carpakr, Duncan and Richie had quickly backed into the handicapped space, being the lazy immortals they are, and backed over an elderly crippled lady, who unfortunately wasn't immortal, otherwise two very shocked immortals would have received a quickening as the sound of the crone's head collapsing unde the rear tire faded in their ears. Duncan jumped out, belted Richie for telling him off for running granny down, and strode menacingly towards the 7-11, glaring balefully at any mortals who dared to meet his gaze or impede his progress. Reaching the portals of the establishment, he was just about to wrench them open with great vigour (they didn't have those nifty automatic doors in his neighborhood- excessive quickenings blew their servos out) when he heard a great string of oaths from behind him. "Stupid car! grrrazzemffrrrrghh! %$#&! %^&*!" An obscenely overweight man with a nearly bald head and a three-day growth was busy thumping and kicking a battered-looking old station-wagon, while his family sat inside it laughing at his antics. Duncan was disgusted as he saw that the man possessed an enormous beer-gut, bright yellow in colour, which poked through his flimsy white shirt. The whole sight irritated the highlander, and he was just about to draw his katana and slash the fat creature down when it addressed him. "Hey? Longhair! Do you have jumper leads?" the oaf spoke in a most unchivalrous tone. Duncan glared at him and said nothing. "ooh- sorry, mr.i'm-too-good-to-help-my-fellow-man! Goddamn hippy." That was the final straw. With a mighty roar Duncan leapt across the parking lot and smashed the hilt of his katana into the fat man's flabby bald head, smashing his front teeth and sending him sprawling. "D'oh!" the fat man cursed and sat up rubbing his back."Now you've asked for it!" The fat man leapt to his feet and charged forward, pummeling wildly, and Duncan actually fell back a step or two under the rain of blows before twisting his blade and impaling the man's enormous gut. "D'oh!" The fat man skidded sideways, yanking Duncan's blade out of his hand, and went staggering across the carpark, vainly attempting to remove Duncan's finely-crafted sword from his lower intestine. Duncan fancied he could smell very stale beer. "Oh dear! Mr. Simpson!" a strange-lloking Indian had come running out of the convenience store, and was staring appalled at the blood gushing from his best customer's guts. Duncan turned to deal with him too, when he noticed to his dismay that the fellow was brandishing an Atchisson 12-gauge riot gun, and furthermore had discharged two rounds from its chrome-plated barrel straight at him. The 337 miniature pellets contained in the cartridge peppered the highlander, and he was thrown back as hundreds of tiny but potentially lethal wounds were inflicted upon his form. Duncan landed with a thud on the pavement, and the last thing he saw before 'dying' was a small boy with bright yellow skin and a spiky haircut aiming a huge slingshot at his head. "Lights out, dude..." ************************************************************************** Duncan regenerated a few minutes later, and sat up wearily, to behold a bizarre scene. Richie was locked in a fierce struggle with the woman that had been siting in the station-wagon, an obscene creature with 3 feet of blue hair going straight up. At the same time, the boy with the slingshot was peppering the pair of them with rocks and bottle-tops, while a similar-looking girl in a red dress was attending to the fatally wounded fat man with the indian shopkeeper, who had placed his formidable weapon aside moentarily. Duncan's sword was still buried deeply in the fat man's dying body. Duncan was about to arise and reclaim it when he heard a low growl from the interior of the station-wagon. "There can be only one, highlander!" The rush of recognition of a fellow immortal was followed by a blue and yellow blur of motion from the 'wagon, and the swift descent of a wicked-looking baby rattle towards the highlander's head. Rolling to one side, Duncan quickly arose and turned to face his new assailant, whom he was sure was a fellow immortal. The color drained from Duncan's features as he beheld this new threat. Standing before him was a 2-year-old child, bright yellow, clad in a tacky blue baby suit, and wielding a razor-sharp, 3 foot long rattle, with a wickedly spiked head. "Who are you?" gasped Duncan, astounded. "I am Maggie MacLeod of the clan macLeod. I have hidden in the guise of a child since I received my first fatal injury on my second birthday, 400 years ago, at the hands of the Kurgan. escaping to America, I have roamed from hospital to hospital, posing as the child of stupid mortals until i had a chance to slay another immortal. I managed to lure my 'family' into coming here so I could slay you, Duncan macLeod!" The rich scottish burr emanating from the toothless maw of the grotesque before him caused Duncan to shiver, and he backed away. truly this would be a mightly battle! Turning, he attempted to locate his blade. Looking around, he saw that the indian had yanked it from the fat man's steaming corpse, and was examining it intently, the riot gun forgotten. The little girl was assisting her mother, who had been felled by Riche with a vicious blow to the head. Richie was now engaed in pursuing the male child, who was racing about the carpark, taunting him and pelting him with garbage. Two quick steps brought Duncan to the riot gun, and in one fluid motion he had grabbed it up, pumped a cartridge and fired point-blank at the shopkeeper, scattering his brains across the tarmac. Duncan dropped the weapon and scooped up his katana from the Indian's lifeless hand, and turned to face the savage immortal child. "There can be only ONE!" he roared, and leapt forward at the infant maniac. A furious succession of blows followed, and both Maggie and Duncan were seriously bleeding in a matter of seconds, each having suffered wounds that would have already killed a mortal. But size and strength prevailed, and a quick, decisive blow by macLeod sent the child's head sailing across the carpark, striking the malicious male Simpson in the head, killing him instantly. Lightning flashed across the carpark, and Duncan braced himself as massive doses of energy flowed through him. She had been a mighty immortal indeed! He screamed aloud as his body writed and convulsed as mighty magical energies arced over it. The with a final gasp, he collapsed, exhausted to the pavement. it was over. An hour later, after Richie had disposed of the corpses, Duncan arose and, fully healed, began the drive home, backing over the remaining child for good measure as he did so. The ruined convenience store still fairly hummed with energy, and broken glass and twisted metal screeched in protest under the wheels of the black automobile. Richie and Duncan did not talk on their return journey, and both entered the house quietly upon their return. Then suddenly Duncan felt a wave of fear like none other he had ever felt. "Hi honey. Where's the milk?" Duncan screamed and slapped his head in rage and fear- "D'oh!!!!!" and ran from the house, Richie in tow, gamely dodging a fearful array of projectiles, including 1000-year old vases, antique swords and frying pans used by Charles II. Reaching the car, Duncan and Richie leapt in and floored it, screaming out of the driveway and onto the road as a 5000-year old Egyptian sarcophagus smashed into the bonnet. What will become of our heroes? Will they find another convenience store not owned by riot-gun Hindus? will they avoid any more trouble with overweight white (yellow?) Americans? Will mayor Quimby declare martial law. Will Mr.Burns hire Duncan as a security guard? Stay tuned! =========================================================================