Chapter One

One minute, Mortimer Toynbee ((alias, “The Toad”)) had been having a nice strawberry flavored gumdrop (and had been enjoying it, mind you) and the next, was sucked in to a warp of mind-bending surrealism, and dumped in to northern Illinois.

As you or I might imagine, this was not a very favorable chain of events, and what Toad did when faced with unfavorable events is usually associated with manic grins, quite a lot of hacking (and if he was lucky) an impressive death toll.

He looked up as his vision cleared, rubbing his head, trying to decide who to squish first. He was met with the vision of a short, curly-haired girl who was currently wrapped up in a red patterned blanket in white slippers, staring at a laptop screen, and giggling softly. She didn’t seem to notice that he was in the room. Even the infamous Toad knew when he was met with a problem that best be procrastinated on. So instead of addressing the girl immediately, he took in his surroundings. The room was mainly red and gold, cared for, and obviously the home of an eccentric. On the bulletin board hung a pair of dog tags, a few mismatched ticket stubs, and a picture…of a green faced man….with…

He squeaked in an entirely non-assassin-ish like fashion, and backed up in to the girl’s bed, falling in to the bedside table. Needless to say, this caused quite a racket, and finally caused the curly-haired girl to look up from her laptop screen.

Her eyes widened in shock for a moment, then, to his surprise, softened. She gave a hideously warm, gleeful smile.

“Holy mother of undead Toaster Strudel!” she yelped. It was at that precise moment that Mortimer began to fear for his life. “MORTIE PIE!” he stared at her in shock. “Hmm. I suppose I should explain,” she said. “My name is Kaitlyn.” There was a puff of armadillo-flavored smoke, and thus appeared a shorter girl with a pixie-haircut and a demonic smile.

“And I am Julia.”

“And we are insufferable fangirls.”

Fan…girls…?

“Yes, Mortimer. Fangirls. I suppose we should tell you right now that you are a fictional character. But I don’t think that would be nearly as emotionally scarring as the fact that a group of girls fantasizes about that extraordinary appendage of yours.” Julia said with a smirk.

Mort thought he was going to pass out. All he could manage to choke out was a beleaguered, “Wot th’ fuck?”

“Your tongue, anyway.” Added Kaitlyn.

“Unfortunately, that other extraordinary appendage isn’t of common knowledge.”

“JULIA. Be kind. The boy’s head is about to explode.” The green Englishman looked around, dazed.

“But…but…”

“Yes, we know. You’re a mutant. You’re green. But that’s the fun part.” Added the shorter one.

“You’re positively angst-a-rific.”

….Angst…a…rific?

“By the way, Jules, I didn’t know that armadillo was a flavor. I’m impressed.”

“Spectacular, isn’t it? Oh look. I can practically hear the boy’s brain cells corroding.”

“At least we didn’t ask him to READ the fan fiction.” There was a pause while the two nodded knowingly at one another.

“You see, we called you here…for a purpose.” Said Julia mysteriously.

“A….dark purpose.”

“That’s quite enough from you. That’s the thirtieth quote I’ve had to deal with today…”

“Excuse me if I don’t jump for joy…bad back, you know.”

“STOP THAT!”

“…fine. You’re no fun.”

“Um…?” Toad tried, his voice quiet. He came to the reasonable conclusion that these two were either very powerful beings, or he had gone completely off his nut. Either way, he knew where he’d rather be; at home eating his strawberry flavored gumdrops. But fate was not kind to Toad and his gumdrop craving…no, not this day.

“Right. The purpose.”

“The dark purpose.” The curly one crooned.

“Whatever.” Julia said, glaring angrily at her friend. “You’ve been the brunt of a lot of very unfair fanfictions lately.”

“Most of them involving death, jumping off bridges, falling in love with Mary Sues…”

“…nearly escaping lynch mobs, celebrating Thanksgiving, falling in love with X-Men…” both the girls shuddered. “In particular, an evil little white-haired X-Man…Woman…whatever…”

“Ah. Yes. I remember that.” Said Toad, his voice hardening.

“Hey! WE didn’t write THAT one.”

“No, no, just a lot of the others.”

“And in a few besides that, you were forced to put up with Pyro, raped by a bear, get rescued by angry nuns…”

“Wait, which was the one he got raped by a bear?”

“Um…that one’s actually in the shop.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, probably shouldn’t have mentioned that.”

“Well, too late now.” Mort watched the volleying conversation with disbelief, a tick in his right eye.

“You should really get that looked at.” Concluded Kaitlyn. “Anyway, we’ve decided—because of these unfortunate incidences---that you should join a support group.”

“A what?”

“A support group.” Julia intoned. “An angst support group.”

“You see, even without the aide of fanfiction, your angst level was already approaching a dangerous setting.”

“And since the year 2000, fanfiction skyrocketed. You’re such an angsty little bishi we couldn’t help but pile on more. That’s what we villain fans love, you know. Angst. And lost of it. Without it, we go insane.”

“More insane.”

“Right.”

“And then, we decided, there can’t be a support group with just one member.” The Kaitlyn girl opened her closet door, where several men sat on the floor.

One man was slightly tubby, with large, mechanical arms protruding from his back. This man was playing cards with another, who seemed to be covered with an insane amount of red and black paint. Next to him sat a debonair-ish type with a white mask. He was deep in conversation with a hook-nosed, dark haired fellow. They both seemed to have an affinity for black. A grungy looking pirate looked like he was trying to coax a leather-clad man with knives for hands out of the corner to join the group, and a blue man with a pointed tail looked to join in on the card game.

Mort sighed, wishing once more, as hard as he’d ever wished…just to be back at the lair with some strawberry gumdrops, and perhaps a lobotomy.

TBC…unfortunately for you. This was too fun to write, and I must continue.

DISCLAIMER: Toad, Doc Ock, Darth Maul, The Phantom of the Opera, Snape, Jack Sparrow, Edward Scissorhands and Nightcrawler belong to their respective owners. Julia…I used you in this “fic” because you went to go have fun with your cousin. Nyyah!

Author’s Note: I wrote this while everyone was away having fun. Grr. I should have been doing homework, but I was too lazy. And this seemed fun. Anyone who takes offence should go soak their heads in highly corrosive acid while singing the “Cocoanut Song”. Mmm-kay?