Todd, and the rest of the gang, led by Abel Zorro, having passed through the trapdoor, slosh along through the sewers in search of Buck, Nick, and Lola of the luscious lips.
Fran is sticking mighty close to Abel Zorro, who in turn is marching into the darkness with the sound of dripping water assaulting his eardrums. Abel Zorro has a sense of purpose. All he wants to do is find Buck and Nick and get the hell out of there.
Fran strokes his butt.
"What the...?" he starts.
"We still have a problem," Fran says. It's amazing how she's metamorphosed into a sex goddess from a frump just a couple of chapters back.
"What is it?" Abel Zorro asks.
"A problem is something that troubles you," Fran needlessly explains. "It's something you have to resolve."
"Something I have to resolve?" Abel Zorro asks.
"I was speaking generally," Fran says.
"Okay," Abel says. "So aside from Buck, Nick and Lola with the luscious lips going missing, and us being stuck in a stinking sewer while a storm rages outside, facing whatever demons may await, and the killings, and the charnel house...what exactly is the problem?"
"It's all about continuity," Fran says. "We need a new writer. The old one has lost the plot. He just sits there surrounded by print-outs of previous episodes and tries to fix things as he goes along."
"Well, it is a low budget Spoof magazine article," Abel Zorro says. "He'll find a way to connect things up. It'll probably be totally dumb and stupid, but he'll pull it off."
"How?" Fran asks. "How can this ever be resolved?"
Abel Zorro does not reply.
Angie's upstanding lady chestbumps do.
"Oh my God," Fran gasps. "This whole thing is so sexist!"
"Somebody say sexist?" a voice booms from the dark tunnel.
"Who goes there?" Abel Zorro challenges the darkness, AK47 at the ready, while the others shrink back into the darkness.
"It's me!" a voice reverberates.
"Who's me?" Abel Zorro demands.
"You sound like my esteemed compadre Abel Zorro Rodriguez," the voice calls down the sewer tunnel.
"It is I," says Abel Zorro.
"Thought so," the voice says from the darkness. "This is I too. It's me!"
"Who is 'me'?"
"You is Abel Zorro Rodriguez of course!"
"Yes, I know that, but you said you were 'me' So who is me?"
"You is Abel Zorro Rodriguez! Humourist and defender of the American way!"
"I know that already. You're starting to make me feel like Peter Sellars in a Clouseau movie. Who are you? State your name and come out in peaceful fashion or I shall shoot the head off you with my AK47"
"Is that 47 inches?" the voice enquires. "Wow, that's even bigger than Bargis..."
"Who's Bargis?" Angie groans. At the mention of 47 inches, she's inexplicably gone weak at the knees.
"He's my little friend," Abel Zorro says.
"Oh!" Angie kind of squeals. "Oh oh oh oh 47 inches yesss!"
"What's her problem?" Buck asks as he and Nick emerge into the light.
"She's a woman," Abel Zorro says.
"Can I interrupt here?" Todd asks.
Abel Zorro and Buck exchange glances. Suspicious glances. As if to say 'We can't go on with suspicious glances cause we're caught in a trap.'
"We can't walk out," Abel Zorro says.
"Because I love you too much baby" Buck says, his gaze locked on to Angie's ample chest thimbles. "Why can't you see what you're doing to me? Because I love you too much baby."
"I've heard all this before," Angie says. "it's Elvis rehashed, you sad bastards."
"Elvis?" Buck wonders. "Who's Elvis?"
"He's the gay guy who sang a song about Jailhouse Cock," Abel Zorro says.
"Oh, him," Buck says.
"Yes, him," Madame Bitters says bitterly. "That selfish Tennessee bastard who ate himself to death. And popped his clogs on the crapper. A bastard, like all men."
Abel Zorro brandishes his sword and swishes it about for a few moments.
"Madame B" he says. "Your luck in love is not an issue here. Not right now..."
"He's right," Buck says. "As is usual, Abel has nailed it."
"What do you mean?" Angie pouts, her nipples speaking volumes.
"Well," Buck says. "Me and Nicky Boy here, we made inroads and discoveries and shit, and we figure we got the whole deal figured out."
"Fer Chrissakes cut to the chase!" Fran cries out.
"We'll have this thing busted wide open by Part 20, at the latest," Buck says.
"Thank God for that," Angie says.
"Why do you say that?" Todd asks.
"Because my nipples are fucking exhausted," Fran says.
"I know how you feel hon," Buck says. "I once wore my cock to a frazzle in Saigon. But that's beside the point. Me and Nicky Boy have it all worked out. Anybody who wants out of this sack of shit story say 'AYE'
The 'AYES' prevailed.
Angie of the pneumatic nipples remains lost in thought regarding 47 inches and whether it would be possible...
To be continued...