Friday, December 02, 2005

Orange Alert

It seems that what was intimated earlier today by the mysterious Maskatron comment on the previous post is true: the nefarious Maskatron 5000, the cyborg master of disguise and arch-foe of Steve Austen, is once again on the loose!

A simple phone call to the Fakiegrind Secret Warehouse and Gadgetry Research Centre confirmed our worst fears. We thought that this menace to humanity, like small pox or the Spice Girls, had long ago been neutralized. It turns out that Maskatron was only biding his time, waiting for his solar battery to gradually recharge itself before instigating re-assembly procedures.

The robot seems to have escaped the warehouse sometime in the early hours of this morning after assaulting the night watchman with his own submarine sandwich. The guard was found, hours later, in a utility closet, badly bruised and covered in lunch meats. Upon reviving, the man could only babble incoherently about a horrible silver humanoid with flashing lights on his face.

An inquiry is being done into the manner in which Maskatron's dismantled body was initially secured. Former Secret Service chief Oscar Goldman is being called out of his Hawaiian retirement to face charges of gross negligence causing assault with a foodstuff, with possible further charges pending.

It seems that, rather than storing the disassembled sections of the robot in various, far-removed locations to avoid the CPU from reconstructing itself, the deadly robot assassin's body parts were left to collect dust in the same crate as a battery recharger and a bunch of old Christmas decorations from 1976.

Warehouse photo of Maskatron with his CPU disabled,
just before he was unceremoniously shelved in the 70s.

It is believed that Maskatron may currently be disguising himself as Santa Clause and heading to one of the larger Canadian urban centres. Citizens are asked to be on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary.


Jaime Sommers said...

I was doing a search on my name last week and I came upon your blog. I have to admit, it's not easy for me to admit this, but I've been thrown into the sheer depthless hell of being a spokeswoman for the Sleep Number Bed because of...I can't even get myself to type his name....because of...*you can do it, Jaime*...Maskotron. He caused me to lose partial hearing in my bionic ear, and he killed Max, my bionic dog. (Max howled so loudly when the harpoon pierced his lung that I lost half of the hearing in my bionic ear. Now I can only hear noises from 5 miles away, instead of 10.)

How did I go from being a tennis star, to a TV star, to a Lifetime for Woman cable TV movie star (under the alias Lindsay Wagner, of course), to being a bed spokeswoman? I'm so ashamed of myself for giving up my career as a keeper of the peace.

Your blog has given me hope that if we stick together, we can change things. We can rid the world of Maskotron for good! (That nimrod is the reason Steve Austin left me for Farrah Faucet! Yeah, Maskotron coupled with that poster Farrah put out in the late 70s with her headlights shining brighter than the ones on the new Hummers...of COURSE Steve was gonna leave me! Sometimes I thought he loved Max more than me, anyway.)

Getting back to my point: My bionic boss, Oscar, left me for Dr. Rudy Wells (like we didn't see that coming!!), so I'm going to need someone to help revamp my bionics. I was thinking of tapping into the resources over at Roboshrub, Inc., but I'm not quite sure if they'll take my insurance.

I want to help you rid the world--or at least your blog--of Maskotron. He's a menace to society. And, as you can see from these Sleep Number Beds that I sell on TV (I'm a #35) they don't work for crap. I haven't had a good nite's sleep since I gave up the Craftmatic 2000 for the Sleep Number 35. The pay stinks, too.

So, please let me know what I can do to help. Maybe I'll get a new TV show if I help you capture this freak. Either that or a guest appearance in the next Incredibles movie.

BTW, do you know of anyone who can build me a bionic dog???

Maximillion said...

Oh Jaime, I'm NOT dead!! The Fembots kidnapped me and took me far, far away!! I'm running back to you now. I will help you rid the world of Maskotron!!

BTW, are you serious? Oscar and Rudy

Six Million Dollar Man said...

Oh Jaime...I didn't leave you for Farrah because of her bathing suit pin-up poster! I left you because I thought you and Oscar were having an affair! Everytime I went to the OSI Headquarters I could hear people fooling around in the janitor's closet. I assumed it was you and Oscar. I should have known it was Oscar and Rudy. No wonder I could never find them!

I'm on my way up to Canada to help you and the Fakiegrind crew beat on the brat a.k.a. Maskotron!

BTW, you could only hear for a mile with your bionic ear...stop embellishing! Don't you know we love you for who you are, not what you are???

Gyrobo said...

Roboshrub Inc. doesn't usually accept insurance, but I'll need approval from your HMO. Or, if you're a Canadian citizen, from your MP.

That's "member of parliament", which IS a real job, I assume.

But aren't ALL parliaments circular?

Bhakti said...
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
flatlander said...

Yup. A big 'ol can 'o worms. Seems like some bionic laundry is being hung out to dry here, folks. Maskatron's memory banks might have been erased, but the Sleep Number Bed never forgets a contour, and passions are running high.

The problem is, despite all the bionic big-wigs coming out to help, we have just had word that Maskatron might actually be impersonating one of our own Fakie Agents.

Special Ops is scrambling as I type this, trying to come up with some kind of cyborg screening test we can administer, but so far all we have is this:

If you were wandering in the desert, and you saw a turtle lying on its back, frying in the sun, with a tatoo of a sexy girl on its stomach, and there was a hot dog stand nearby selling the best chilli dog in the country, and your old high school English teacher suddenly appeared and told you you still owed him fifteen hundred words on the imagry in "To Kill a Mockingbird", what would you do?"

We would appreciate if all contributors to this site would answer the above question, so we can rule our your being Maskatron, and call off the SWAT teams that even now are taking their positions, just to be on the safe side.

BTW, I always thought that MP stood for Mongol Paramour. No wonder politics never made any sense to me!

jaime sommers said...

Oh no--Gyrobo. We must act quickly!! Someone named Bhakti--with an apparent bionic neck--just tried to leave a comment pretending she was ME!!

I don't have insurance...but I can bake a mean apple pie!

Oscar Goldman said...

Jamie--Rudy and I are happily married and living in Massachesetts. We just adopted a baby from China. She's cute. We name her Agent 35, in your honor.

Don't worry, Rudy and I would happily come out of retirement if you would like us to. We could work beside Gyrobot to rebuild you. This time we won't skimp out on you...we'll spend more money than we did on Steve. The feminists never forgave us for not spending as much money on you that we did on Steve.

Bhakti said...

Jeez, Louise, someone's having a field day on your blog tonight! Yikes. I have an aliby. I was alone in my house eating popcorn by the fire. With my cat. And my slippers.

HHhhmmm...To Kill a Mockingbird. Well, I couldn't read that book. I thought it terribly boring. However, I loved the movie.

Boo Radley for president.

I can't remember if he was guilty or not. I think he was, right??

Who knows, I'm going to retire right now. Sweet dreams everyone.

Gyrobo said...

The GDP is overflowing! This is the mark of MASKATRON!

Or, perhaps, a dentist. But that could never happen, unless...

Maskatron IS a dentist!

flatlander said...

Hmmm.....Bionic Teeth! I like the cut of your jib. If Maskatron weren't bent on the destruction of radio free blogdom as we know it, I would make him my dentist. No more problems with celery, no more messing with can openers either!

Well, Bhakti doesn't seem to be Maskatron, because robots don't sleep. And Gyrobo is already a robot, so why would Maskatron disguise himself as another robot? That's like Pinocchio wishing to be totem pole or something. So that leaves.....

Dr. Flavour
The Adjuster?



I wonder who it could be? Guess I'll sleep on it. Happy counting electric sheep, all ye bloggers!

Adjuster said...

You would do better to say,
"I wonder whom it could be".


Bhakti said...

The GDP is overflowing!

What is the GDP??

And, Mr. Smarti-pants Adjuster corrected Mr. Flatlander on his grammar, but failed to even notice that I spelled alibi wrong in my post. Hhhhmmm...that must mean that the Endtime Adjuster is one heck of a grammarian but shouldn't enter a spelling bee to save his life. Or, perhaps it means that I shouldn't! Or, maybe it means that he doesn't waste his time reading MY comments (that would make him highly intelligent!)

My gosh--I just woke up...4 hours late. All of that BIONIC research in order to post those irreverent bionic-related posts killed me!!! I don't even think I knew that much about all things bionical when I was obsessed with them in the 70s! I'm retiring once again. Wake me when you find Maskotron (I never even heard of Maskotron before last night, for crying out loud...this could be the sign of someone who needs to go back to work soon!)...

Adjuster said...

What's the point of going back to work when the WORLD IS ENDING!

Already, the first digibeast of the Apocalypse, Q*bert the Terrible, has been unleashed, to be followed by three more bitmap behemoths, after which the Great Cataclysmic Mario Music will sound signalling the end of the age!

But don't panic! Invest in my Endtime Insurance Plan today and ye shall be saved!*

Also, I thought that maybe "aliby" was the American spelling.

*Endtimes corp. takes no responsibility for souls not actually saved through policies purchased.

Bhakti said...

If you would like to know what happens to me when I visit political sites far too often, read my latest post.

I thank you for having a site full of love and laughter. Seriously.