Blockade Boy vs. the Menace from Uranus

As soon as Superman (the crotchety old "Sam Waterston" version) warned us about the impending alien invasion, strange spacecraft were spotted over several major cities. I knew which planet's army I wanted to fight. I stepped forward and declared in my loudest, deepest, most gravelly voice, "Uranus has threatened Earth for too long! They may talk of a 'peaceful occupation' but I think we all know that's a lot of hot air. It stinks. And as I know a little something about invasions myself, I say I'm just the man to put Uranus in its place! ...Thank you. Thank you, all." I clasped my hands behind my back, reverently bowed my head, and waited for the thunderous ovation that was certain to occur. After an awkward minute of total silence, Earth 2 Superman finally pointed out that everybody else had left to fight the invasion some time ago. I whipped my head around and sure enough, the hall was empty. A perfectly good speech, wasted!

"Guess I might as well put on some battle gear," I shrugged, and I pulled back my pink, finned cowl.

"Whoa there, youngster!" exclaimed Old Superman. "You've got to keep that costume on. It's a symbol of authority!"

"But it looks ridiculous!" I protested. "Anyway, everything below my waist is made of metal. Technically, I don't even need to wear clothes! My magnetic codpiece covers up all the objectionable bits."

"We don't have time for your foolishness, boy! Now, git!" He spun me around and slapped my ass for emphasis. I instinctively raised my hand to smack the bejeezus out of him but caught myself when I remembered he could heat-vision my head into a fine mist.

"Okay already! Can you at least point me to a space suit? I can't pilot one of these primitive 21st Century spaceships into the sub-stratosphere just wearing this goofy get-up."

"Young Superman had Phillipe, one of the fashion designers, whip something up for you, special. Oh, look! Here's Phillipe now, modeling it!"

"I'll pass," I said, and made a beeline for the rocket pad. Which seemed to be further away than I remembered it. I kept running and running, and there was seemingly no end in sight. I wanted to turn around but some mechanism in my robotic legs had frozen up, so I just kept hurtling forward. Still, I had some encouragement: every mile or so I'd pass a road sign with an arrow, saying things like "Why not stop in at the Rocket Pad?" while on the opposite side of the road were signs facing the other way, with slogans like "Thanks for stopping in at the Rocket Pad!" My metal legs never tired, but after about an hour of this nonsense I began to wonder if maybe "the Rocket Pad" was some kind of tavern or rest stop and not a real rocket pad at all! Meanwhile, angry red Uranian spaceships were whizzing mockingly overhead. Finally I decided I'd better thumb a ride. One tantalizing glimpse of my metal ankles later and I was gliding along in style courtesy of a very nice retired couple from Tulsa. We were going so fast it was almost like we were flying. In no time at all, we'd reached the Rocket Pad!

Which turned out to be a Used Rocket Lot and not the Hall's official rocket pad at all. After some hasty wheeling-and-dealing I found myself in a really quite affordable craft that just happened to resemble a rusted Space Shuttle with the nose filed to a point. I tore off into the raging skies on my noble mission to slaughter the enemy. Admittedly it took a little bit to get used to the controls. I kind of side-swiped some old building. I was so revved up, I couldn't stop a little nervous laughter from slipping out.

The Uranian fighter ships were surprisingly easy to destroy, although there were hundreds of them. As I fought my way through the swarm, I realized they were protecting a much larger craft that was sinking slowly and with great purpose towards the surface. Just then a little message began blinking on my ship's com-screen. "Service engine soon," it politely suggested, and then the entire cabin was engulfed in flames. I yanked off my ridiculous costume with one hand -- while still sitting down, just as a magician can pull a tablecloth off a table and leave the glasses and plates undisturbed -- and used it to smother the blaze while with my other hand I manhandled the controls. I managed to land without crashing in the Mojave Desert. The Uranian ships I'd crippled were still coming down around me as I squinted at the horizon. The larger ship I'd seen was descending into the outskirts of Las Vegas. As it fell, its silhouette shifted into a vaguely humanoid shape.

It was a robot.

The brutish Uranian shock troops crawled from their wreck spacecraft and began to gather in a mob. They looked like they were made out of bacon, or maybe boiled shrimp. I balled my mighty, hairy hands into fists. I was prepared to smash my way through them if they stood between me and that robot.

"Over this way!" someone yelled at me. It was a grizzled old prospector with tobacco juice in his beard and a rope for a belt. "I always knew th' dang moon-men would try to take over th' Earth! They're jealous, see? 'Cause we have nickel slots and they don't!"

I shook my head. "Save yourself, sir! It's me they want! And by all that's good and right, I'm just what they're going to get! And they'll be sorry for the day they ever thought Earth would give up its freedom without a fight! ...Also, you might want to consider buying a good shampoo and a conditioner, and some kind of exfoliating scrub. They don't have to be expensive. In fact-- wait a minute -- here we go." I dug inside one of my leg compartments and produced a discount coupon for the Bath and Body Works. "This should still be good." At that point the Uranian bacon-men were pretty much on top of us, so I shoved the prospector into his cave and went to work, swiftly and efficiently busting heads. Within minutes half of them were dead or knocked out and the other half were limping away, so I could finally head off towards the robot. This time I didn't wait around for a tourist to give me a ride. My metal legs took off at double-speed and when I spotted a couple of motorcyclists I just knocked them off their bikes. Without missing a beat I leaped atop the still-running cycles (one foot on each bike) and straddled those puppies straight into Vegas! The robot was marching through the streets, causing citizens and tourists alike to lose their shit.

One hysterical idiot pointed at the robot as soon as he saw me. "Yeah," I told him, "I can see it. Thanks for the help, genius." Then I addressed the robot. "Hey! I just decimated most of your invasion fleet! I'll give you one chance to leave Earth before I kick your tin-plated ass... Blockade Boy-style!"

But the crimson giant just ignored me. As it continued to stride forward, I threw myself on one of its legs and shimmied upwards toward the back of its head. It swung one of its arms in the direction of a hotel. I could hear huge fan blades whirring within the robot's chest. With a shiver, I realized the robot was about to destroy the entire building. I hollered at the people inside to evacuate. Sadly, most of them were too drunk, high, engaged in lovemaking or suicidally depressed to make much sense of what I was trying to tell them. That all changed once the bricks started coming off. Some of the inhabitants managed to stumble down the stairs and through the front door, a few scrambled down the fire escape, and one jerk -- probably high off 'shrooms or maybe he'd licked a toad or somethin' -- was left waving at the robot and me with a goofy smile on his kisser. "Are they filming Transformers 2 already?" he yelled. With a frustrated growl I hopped down onto the robot's shoulder and slid down its other arm like a snowboarder, towards the idiot's window. Then I snatched him from his room and slung him with a perfect trajectory towards a lamp post. His sturdy woven hemp hoodie caught on the post's arm. He's probably still hanging there.

And just in time, too, because the whole building collapsed. I climbed back up the robot's body and located the entrance hatch. With one stamp of my metal foot I busted the locking mechanism. Then I pried the door free and jumped through the hole.

The robot's pilot was quite different from the shock troops, hailing instead from Uranus' Philosopher Caste. I should also add he was unexpectedly mellow about having a strange man come through his entry hole.

I pushed him up against a nearby wall. "What's your part in this whole invasion?" I shouted.

"Oh, I'm kind of totally in charge of it," he giggled. "In fact, it was really my idea!"

I snarled, menacingly. "What the hell, bro'? You think this is funny? Innocent people could have died! And what about the Uranian non-aggression treaty with this planet?" I grabbed him by his scrawny arms and shook him a little to show I meant business.

He yelped, "Relax, dude! It's a gag! I'm only doing this to get on a reality show! The Solar System's Funniest Invasions! Maybe you've heard of it?"

"How dare you," I spat. "That is disgusting. I would never do anything so outrageous just for the sake of a reality show!" My right eyelid twitched a little as I said the words but I think I still managed to say it with a straight face. "Your reign of terror is over, Klagg. I'm turning you in to the Earth authorities."

"Big deal. So I'll spend a few months in some cushy American or Canadian white collar prison."

I leaned in towards him and fixed his gaze with my grimmest smile. "I was thinking more along the lines of the Phillipines, Klagg. I hope you like performing in knock-offs of Michael Jackson videos!"

All the yellow drained from his face. "You'll never take me alive!" he cried. He pulled a lever and the floor opened up, sending him down a chute that exited out the robot's foot. I followed after him, but I was so much bigger than him that I got stuck at around the knee. I had to pull myself the rest of the way through. By then, Klagg was surrounded by an angry crowd.

"This is the jack-off who tore down my hotel?" said one woman, incredulously.

"Doesn't look so tough to me," observed an elderly man in a bathrobe.

"I think we ought to kick his ass," suggested a toddler.

Speechless, Kragg gaped at the circling mass of people, which was growing bigger by the second. Someone threw a crumpled-up can of Red Bull at him. It rebounded off his forehead with a satisfying *thonk* noise. Klagg panicked.

But I cut him off before he could make it back inside. He zipped around me. "So what?!" he screamed. "Big deal! Before I landed I fired off a nano-drone to build me a fortress out of atoms converted from dust and twigs and moonbeams and happy thoughts! It should be just about finished by now!" His skinny frame was remarkably quick, but I managed to catch up with him by the time he'd entered a local park (and had pissed off an entirely different mob, apparently). A power outage caused by this (or some other) invasion had left the area in darkness but I could see the outlines of a strange, towering structure with a mechanical lift at the bottom. Klagg jumped on it and shot upwards into the fortress.

I quickly found some hand-holds and followed after him. Just then, Klagg hit some switch and the edifice blazed with light. Klagg yelled triumphantly "My mighty fortress is impenetrable! None may touch me in-- er. Oh."

I couldn't help grinning as I clambered over the ledge. "Your 'mighty fortress' looks awfully busted, Klagg."

He slumped forward, demoralized. "That's what I get for buying my robot spacecraft at a Rocket Pad," he sighed.

I retrieved a pair of electro-cuffs from a leg compartment and took him into custody. "Let's go, little man," I said. "Maybe if you're lucky you'll get the lead in 'Smooth Criminal.'"