There is an empty stage, bare floorboards with a light 
dusting of grime covering it, dark curtains behind it, and a 
spotlight, a swirling column of glaring clarity, on its middle, in 
deep contrast with the red dim light of its surroundings.

    There comes the sound of footsteps, measured, confident, 
but slow, so slow.  The sound of the footsteps fill the entire stage, a 
pulsating burst of sharp lows.  A gliding shadow slides across the 
stage until it finally reaches the outer edges of the spotlight.  There, 
it hesitates for a brief moment, a moment where there is no sound, 
a dark silence that roars in absence.  But at last the shadow plunges 
into the light and there stands revealed . . . 

    Umm . . . 

    . . . a rather scruffy-looking fellow in a faux-leather jacket, 
hair that desperately needs the feel of a pair of scissors, a chin that 
was trying to grow something, either hair or a cleft, something to 
make it look like Don Johnson's (not the Don Johnson of "Nash 
Bridges" but the Don Johnson of "Harley Davidson and the 
Marlboro Man"), and failing badly, and a pair of mirror sunglasses 
that covered nearly half his face.

    He coughs into a fist and says clearly, "I, Koshi Rikudo, 
creator of Excel Saga, do not give permission to this fanfic."  He 
pauses slightly, and then says still further, "Sorry."


20TH CENTURY FAQ PRESENTS

WEIRD ANIME FROM HELL EXCEL SAGA

EPISODE ****PIPE: KOMM SUSSER TOD

(By Murmur the Fallen)

    Grand High Master of All He Perceives Il Paratzo, 
bespectacled, armored, and hair coiffed just so Evil Overlord of the 
Secret Ideal Organization Across sat on his pedestal-perched 
throne reading a shojo manga.  He reached under his spectacles to 
brush away a tear that had formed in the corner of an eye.

    "Oh, Ayumi-chan, can't you see that Koshi-kun is the only 
one for you?" he asked, his hands trembling with barely 
suppressed emotion at the heart-wrenching play of teenage angst 
held within his finely gloved hands.

    From somewhere off-stage there thundered in a cute red-
haired girl in a ridiculous and slightly naughty, if not all that 
skimpy relatively speaking, although the way kids dress these 
days, I don't know, it's like the trashier the better, back in my day 
at least people had heard about a little something called class and 
taste but these days, Noooo!, if it doesn't show off enough T&A to 
be banned from "Hustler" then it just isn't fashionable, I don't 
know what the world is coming to, I mean, is it just me or is 
everything going to hell in a bullet train?

    "Ahem," went Grand High Master of All He Perceives Il 
Paratzo and Excel, cute and overly-genki star of Excel Saga.

    Sorry.

    Anyway, there thundered in Excel, a fire trail behind her 
and that cool streaking effect when starships go to warp in Star 
Trek before her.  She screeched to a halt directly in front of the 
pedestal that was the center of the enormous and dark underground 
chamber that seemed to be the only facility that Across actually 
owned.

    "Hail --pant, pant, gasp, pant, wheeze, groan, vomit, pant, 
pant-- Il Paratzo-sama!" went Excel as she saluted sharply.  
"Everything is for Il Paratzo-sama and for the Secret Ideal 
Organization Across!  Across, which will make the world a Better 
Place!  Across, ruled by the benevolent and really nifty guy, Il 
Paratzo-sama!  Hail!  Hail!  Hail!"  Excel, despite the fact that she 
had been so out of breath a few seconds ago that she had started to 
choke on her own blood, talked rapidly and incessantly.

    "Mmm," said Il Paratzo quietly, "thank you, Excel."

    "Greater glory to Il Paratzo-sama!  He who will make the 
world a better place and the kind of place where a decent and hard 
working girl like me doesn't have to take on part-time job after 
part-time job in a really tough economy and is so starved for food 
that she has to keep a cute little doggy as emergency food as well 
as that Brazilian Soccer Team that she has inside of her closet!  
Hail Across, which will wipe away the scummy and badness of the 
world and make it all nice and clean and good and not the kind of 
place where roving bands of vampire kumquats wait in the 
shadows to gnaw on the ankles of innocent people and then have 
weird military people kidnap you and throw you in a dungeon 
where you are subjected to such horrible torture that you would be 
willing to kill your mother just so you get stabbed with a fork 
instead of a spoon!  Hail!" she continued, her delivery so rapid-fire 
that one got wheezy simply from listening.

    "Thank you, Excel," he said a bit more forcefully, really 
wishing that she would stop talking.

    "The world to Il Paratzo-sama!  He who will rule with a 
benevolence that befits someone of his really cool wardrobe and 
great taste in manga!  Did you know that in volume twelve, 
Ayumi-chan sleeps with Mori-san and Koshi-kun finds out and 
runs away from home?  Isn't that sooooo sad?  Isn't it?  Isn't it?  
Isn't--ack."

    Il Paratzo blew on the barrel of his 9mm pistol and put it 
back under his seat cushion and went back to reading his manga in 
peace.  The big hole in Excel's forehead steamed slightly, as her 
hot brains cooled in the underground chamber.

    Meanwhile, Pedro was in hell.

    He had been in hell for a long while now, ever since he 
died in the burning ruins of the construction site he was working at 
and had woken up in a little apartment somewhere next to a highly 
sexually satisfied Grand Will of the Universe.

    Pedro had come to Japan to work as a laborer to pay for the 
good life that his family deserved.  He missed them so much, his 
sexy wife and his little boy.  But then after he had been in hell for 
awhile he discovered that as soon as he had left for Tokyo, his best 
friend Gomez had moved in with his wife, gotten his wife 
pregnant, and his son saw Gomez as his father.

    And that was just the beginning.

    So, really, there was no choice.

    He had to die.

    Which was why he was hanging from the ceiling with a 
rope tied around his broken neck.

    Now, if only the Grand Will of the Universe (Ishi-chan to 
her friends) would let him die.

    "Oh, Peddy-chan," went the big blue circle filled with 
galaxies and nebulae and with two long feminine arms.  She 
dabbed what would have been her eyes if she only had a face with 
a handkerchief.  "Peddy-chan," she went once more, her voice ever 
mournful.  She waved her hand and the universe reset.

    Back in the secret underground headquarters of Across, 
Excel was still dead.

    "Hail Il Paratzo-sama," came a voice from beyond the 
grave.  He looked up from his manga.

    "Oh, hello, Hyatt," replied Il Paratzo to his other hench-
girl, an extremely pale and sickly, but beautiful in a consumptive 
way, girl named Hyatt.  She was dressed in clothes like Excel's but 
where Excel's was green and white, hers was purple and . . . 
purple, but a different kind of purple.

    "How are you . . . you . . ."  Hyatt's eyes glazed over, a 
trickle of blood fell from the corner of her mouth, and she 
collapsed, dead.

    Il Paratzo sighed.  The world was just so trying.  He 
glanced at his wristwatch and waited.

    And waited.

    And waited.

    And waited but this time he waited while reading about 
how Ayumi-chan was running around the school, trying to give 
Koshi-kun a box of chocolates.

    Finally, the Grand Will of the Universe appeared.

    "Sorry.  I was a bit busy," she apologized.

    Il Paratzo nodded, not even looking up from his manga.

    And the universe reset again.

    Meanwhile (again) . . . 

    Pedro awoke, screaming.  He sat upright on the futon he 
found himself and looked around him.  There was no one there.  
He breathed a huge sigh of relief.

    There was a knock at his door.

    Suddenly fear squeezed tight his heart, making it 
impossible to hear anything save the pounding rush of his blood to 
his ears.  Sweat beaded out of his forehead and ran down his face.

    There was a knock at his door . . . again.

    Finally, with a gulp, Pedro stood up and went to the plain 
door.  He grasped the door handle and, with a sudden jerk that 
came only from a momentary victory over deeply seated terror he 
opened the door.  There stood a man with a huge afro and wearing 
a red suit, you know, the kind that Lupin wore.

    "Here," said the afro-wearing man who was none other 
than super-action hero and director of Excel Saga Nabeshin as he 
thrust a letter into Pedro's hand.  "A dead friend of mine made me 
promise to deliver this to you.  Now, I must be off before the death 
ninja squad find me."  Nabeshin rushed away from Pedro and 
climbed to the roof.  Soon enough there came the staccato sound of 
gunfire and horrific screams.

    Relieved that nothing had happened to him, Pedro closed 
his door and stared at the letter for a brief moment before opening 
it.  And he read:

    "Dear Pedro, I just want you to know before I die that I am 
not your real father.  My wife, the woman you knew as your 
mother, could not bear children but desperately wanted some.  So I 
went to the black market and bought you from a woman I can only 
think was your real mother for a dollar twenty three cents 
(American) and a small bottle of Zima.  Sorry.  Yours, Dad."

    "NOOOOO!"

    And finally, meanwhile for the last time . . . 

    "Hail Il Paratzo!" yelled Excel.

    "Hail Il Paratzo," whispered Hyatt even as she coughed 
lightly.

    Il Paratzo stood before his troops and nodded.  "I have 
noticed that in this imperfect world, people derive some small 
comfort from religion.  I want you two to join a church and find 
out how I can use this against humanity," he said to them.

    And the world exploded for no damn good reason

    "Whoops," said the Grand Will of the Universe as she 
drifted across space.  "Sorry."

    And the Universe reset once more.

    Il Paratzo sighed.  "Forget it.  I'm taking a nap."




EPISODE ****PIPE: KOMM SUSSER TOD

TODAY'S EXPERIMENT . . . FAILED

    And a little doggy in a hail of cherry blossoms sings this 
song mournfully (with translation of doggy-speak for those that 
don't know dog):

I've known since that day 
The reason you came to me 
The soft texture of my body 
Is a favorite of yours 
 
In your hungered eyes 
How does this body look? 
If you're going to eat me, please do it quickly 
So that my flesh won't become too tough.



	     .---Anime/Manga Fanfiction Mailing List----.
             | Administrators - ffml-admins@anifics.com |
             | Unsubscribing - ffml-request@anifics.com |
             |     Put 'unsubscribe' in the subject     |
             `---- http://ffml.anifics.com/faq.txt -----'