The Scummies, 2011... Live! (ish)

[mith]

Backstage, in what appears to be a very private secret meeting in Mr. Flay's temporary office at the unspecified location of the Scummies 2011 Award Ceremony and Yard Sale, we watch Flay pacing back and forth while Kison stands patiently nearby. Obviously, it can't be that private a meeting, as there is a film crew recording the whole thing for the "Making Of" documentary (order now for the low low price of $18.57 at participating retailers). And Kison can't help glancing at the camera every now and then, despite the producer constantly reminding everyone to act natural.

Mr. Flay:

This was really all you found?

Kison:

We looked everywhere.

Mr. Flay:

Even...

Kison:

Yes, even the emergency lock box. I don't know where he is, but it looks like mith took all his work on the script with him. But... maybe we can use this as an outline?

Mr. Flay:

An outline?? It's a grocery list!

Kison:

I don't know what else to suggest. We don't have another script. Can't we just read out the award winners and call it a night?

Mr. Flay:

Are you mad? What will the viewers think?

Kison:

"Oh, goodie, I didn't have to sit through so much crap this year?"

Mr. Flay:

Look, I'm putting my foot down, here. We are not having a Scummies ceremony go by without some mayhem and at least a dozen pointless murders. Not on my watch.

Kison:

Hm. Well, ok.

Mr. Flay:

Ok? That's all you have to say?

Kison:

...well, er...

Mr. Flay:

Uh...

Kison:

We've run out of things to say, haven't we.

Mr. Flay:

Man, this is going to be a disaster. We need a script.

Kison:

I don't know how we're going to pull this off... Give me a bit, I'll see what I can do...

---

Meanwhile, outside the auditorium, the masses are gathered around the red carpet, waiting to be excited about something. Unfortunately for everyone involved, no one knows what the hell is going on...

[mith]

Outside, Mr. Flay is pacing back and forth while a concerned Faraday looks on.

Faraday:

Are you sure we don't have more time? I thought the Scummies were in March...

Mr. Flay:

No, I checked, and rechecked, and according to the complex calculations we carried out involving the lunar calendar, the mass of a helium-3 nucleus, and a slightly uncooperative goat... tonight's the night. And we're supposed to be starting in... five minutes. Maybe I should go remind Kison that...

Faraday:

Rushing him won't help him finish any quicker... Just be patient and let him work his magic.

This doesn't reassure Flay in the slightest, and he resumes pacing. Four minutes and thirty seconds later, the door finally opens and he turns quickly to the emerging Kison, who has sweat dripping from his forehead and is holding a stack of papers about an inch thick.

Mr. Flay:

You finished? Already?

Kison:

Just in time. I wrote a script to automate all the details and contact special guests... You wouldn't believe some of the names I got here on such short notice. And here's the final script for the show...

Faraday:

You wrote a script to generate a script? How meta.

Mr. Flay:

Right...

He flips through the first few pages of the script, finds the page he's looking for, clears his throat, and...

Mr. Flay:

On with the show! Wait, really, that's the best your script could come up with? (And how did it know I would... Ok, this is... stop that!)

Kison:

Pretty good, huh?

Above, there is an unexpected loud BOOM, and the group feels the ground shake. A light falls from the ceiling, glass shattering everywhere.

Mr. Flay:

Gods, what was that?

They rush down the hallway and up the stairs, turn the corner to the elevator, and... where the elevator should be, there is... sky? They nervously edge closer and look up, to where the elevator shaft should lead directly to the auditorium.

Kison:

Uh... guys? This wasn't in my script...

Far across the gaping crater, one of the fans waiting patiently at the red carpet spots them and screams in delight. This prompts everyone else to burst into applause at the obviously planned explosives show.

Mr. Flay:

Huh. Give me that.

He grabs the script, spits on it, and throws it into the crater.

Faraday:

So... now what?

---

The Scummies 2011, You Decide!

Who is responsible for this disasterous turn of events?

A. Tigers, obv.
B. mith, obv.
C. Comical third option.
D. xyzzy.
E. A mysterious fifth party.

Vote now! Lines open for... several days?

[mith]

Flay, Kison, and Faraday navigate the smoking crater, careful not to slip an fall on any pieces of jagged, white hot metal sticking out precariously almost as if placed by design to ensure that someone suffered an excruciating stabby death. They don't worry too much, however, having trashed Kison's script.

Climbing over the lip and up onto the scorched red carpet, they again receive applause from expectant scummers and fans. Flay waves for them to quiet down a bit so he can explain this situation.

Mr. Flay:

Everyone, listen, please! Stop applauding! This isn't part of the show!

More applause.

Mr. Flay:

Sigh. Kison, would you...

Kison:

Sure thing.

Kison pulls out his [portable computing device of choice] and presses a button. A loud horn goes off, deafening everyone and causing them to stop clapping in order to protect their ears.

Mr. Flay:

Ahem. Thank you. Now then. As I was saying, this explosion was not planned as part of the Scummies pre-ceremony festivities. We are going forward under the assumption that this was an unprovoked attack by some unknown assailant. That's all the information we have at the moment, but our best scumhunters are on the case...

Kison:

Uh, they are? And who might that be, exactly?

Mr. Flay:

Oh. All of them.

He points at the audience.

Amrun:

Us? But how should we know who did it?

Mr. Flay:

Well, you don't

now

... But perhaps if you discuss it rationally, maybe take a vote...

The quiet crowd at once erupts into a cacophony of accusations, demands for blood, personal attacks... Kison reaches for his [pcdoc] again, but Flay stops them, whispering...

Mr. Flay:

This is how they do things, let's see what they come up with.

Kison shouts back...

Kison:

WHAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER ALL THE NOISE.

Mr. Flay:

NEVER MIND.

---

Rainbow Brite:

Welcome back to the Scummies 2011 Red Carpet, where I, Rainbow Brite, am pulling double duty tonight, taking on the additional mantle of investigative journalist as we attempt to get to the bottom of what authorities are now calling a terrorist attack on the ceremony. Let's run through the principal suspects under scrutiny, as the crowd continues to argue its way to the bottom of this disaster.

Fate and LlamaFluff can be seen behind Rainbow Brite, quite literally at each others throats. Somehow, despite LlamaFluff cutting off most of his air supply, Fate manages a surprisingly loud cry...

Fate:

OMG OBV IT WAS MITH. WHY WON'T YOU PEOPLE JUST LIS... ACK!

Rainbow Brite:

As you can see here, no one is above suspicion, and that includes our missing-in-action leader, mith, who is supposedly on vacation but many fear he has gone over to the dark side, or perhaps has been replaced by a killer robot or alien or tiger, and has used his security clearance to wipe out the auditorium. Speaking of tigers, many of the older generation here lay the blame on our frequent enemy of the past. Are they right? Have the tigers been spending the last several years in hiding, plotting this moment? Or are the tigers only a threat in the mind of these war-scarred veterans? Just a moment... Ah, we have JDodge from RadioScum on the phone with some breaking news. JDodge?

JDodge:

Thanks, Rainbow Brite. We have just received an audio recording from a group claiming responsibility for this attack. They are calling themselves "The Eleventh Hour", though I believe the masses have taken to referring to them as "Comedic Third Option". I should warn our younger viewers that some of what you are about to hear is... disturbing... Play the clip, UT.

[Unknown]:

Salutations! It is I, your new Leader, Lord 11th Hour, inventor of UPick, that Mafia variant sensation...

[static]

... My loyal followers have taken what many will view as extreme, horrific action, but I am here to reassure you that this "attack", as it is being unfairly labeled by the mafiascum-stream media, is in fact a revolution. Join us in throwing off the shackles of the Oppressor! We have unleashed the cleansing fire to reset the mafiascum community to that holiest of holy days, November 11th, 2011... Now help us track down the remaining heretics and scoundrels loyal to the old crown of mith. And now, the singing of our new anthem, "All hail the Eleventh Hour"... Argh, what is it, Shea? Can't you see I'm recording something very important here? What do you mean we didn't go through with... shut it off, shut it off!

Rainbow Brite:

Fascinating.

petroleumjelly:

I've got it! I know who is responsible!

Rainbow Brite:

It seems we've had a breakthrough... What conclusion have you come to?

petroleumjelly:

It was xyzzy!

Nothing happens. And then pj bites Rainbow Brite. And then nothing happens some more.

Rainbow Brite:

Ow! Well, the sun is setting here, so we need to come to a decision. There's only one thing to do... can we get a show of hands?

Rainbow Brite reads through the options and counts the hands which go up for each name or group. When she has finished, she tallies up the results, furrows her brown, counts again, and then looks up at the camera.

Rainbow Brite:

Well, this is unexpected... The winner, and therefore guaranteed party responsible for this catastrophe is... a mysterious fifth party? But that wasn't even one of the options I gave... It looks like we're no closer to finding out the identity of those responsible...

---

Meanwhile, in a secret, undisclosed location, hooded figures are watching the telecast...

[Unknown]:

Blast! An audio recording claiming responsibility, it's so obvious now. How will we ever gain our proper place in the annals of bringing the site to its knees?

[Also Unknown]:

Patience... We've only just begun...

---

Amrun:

So, now what?

Mr. Flay:

Well, hrm... I don't really know what to say. I mean, obviously the Scummies will have to be cancelled...

This is met with a loud chorus of boos. Someone throws a tomato at Mr. Flay.

Mr. Flay:

Hey! Look, there's nothing I can do about it. We don't have an auditorium!

Kison:

Wait, Flay. We do have these...

He presses a button on his [pcdoc], producing again a loud horn. Everyone's ears bleed a little before he finally manages to shut it off, sheepishly apologizing. He presses a more different button, and this time a fantastic holographic display flashes out from the device.

Mr. Flay:

Is that... the blueprints for the auditorium?

Kison:

Yep. Right down to the shark tank of certain doom hiding beneath that trap door we installed on the stage...

Mr. Flay:

But... I don't get it. It's just a projection. We can't actually hold the Scummies in there.

Kison:

No, but...

He points to the crowd, who are looking intently at the blueprints. One of them leans closer, looking at some specific bit of the foundation, then back at the debris flung from the explosion.

Feysal:

Hey! Look! I think this piece goes...

He jumps down into the bowl of destruction and places the debris into its former home, like a puzzle piece.

Feysal:

Everyone, grab a chunk of rock, let's put this baby back together!

And that's exactly what everyone begins to do. In a short time, the auditorium is... well, it's somewhat reconstructed. There are, of course, a few holes here and there. And putting the sharks back together doesn't go so well.

---

[Still Unknown]:

But... they... no, they... they can't!

[Yep, You Guessed It]:

So they are rebuilding. No matter. They are falling right into our hands. Once they have rebuilt the auditorium, they will resume their ceremony, and then...

[Still Unknown]:

Oh... yes... of course... ahaha... bwahaha!

[Yep, You Guessed It]:

Dude, you need a new evil laugh. "Bwahaha" just doesn't cut it anymore, this is the 21st century, man.

---

The Scummies 2011, You Decide... Again!

Which Scummies Steering Committee member will be the first to meet a gruesome end when the ceremony begins?

A. Faraday
B. JDodge
C. Kison
D. Shanba
E. SpyreX

Vote now! Lines open for... several days?

[mith]

The excitement level is high as the crowd pushes into the auditorium to find their seats for the show. Rainbow Brite tries to get the scoop on who is wearing who this year, but there is an unusual amount of conformity this year, and no need to ask such questions. Almost everyone in the crowd seems to be wearing one of five shirts, proclaiming them to be part of one Scummer or another's "Team."

JDodge is walking through the auditorium checking that everything is ready for the show, and smiles as he sees several fans wearing "Team JDodge" shirts. He waves at them and thanks them for their support. They scowl and make rude gestures, which is confusing but... kids these days, right?

He glances down at his checklist and notices one last task to perform, which requires the assistance of Faraday... suddenly nowhere to be found. He stalks off in search of him...

---

Meanwhile, in a private backstage suite, AniX - part of this year's "1%" not wearing a "Team" shirt, instead preferring the mystic symbology of the Eleventh Hour - rages at his lackeys over the lack of attention he is getting.

AniX:

I am their savior, and what do they do? They vote for some other "group" which they've never even heard of before and probably doesn't even exist. Never mind that I didn't really blow the site up. Don't they know how much I have done for them, to release them from the cruel clutches of mith?

Thestatusquo:

I don't know what went wrong, your Eleventhness. Our analysts were certain that all we needed to do was [removed] step up and take charge.

StevieT92:

Have they been murdered yet?

AniX:

Murdered?? Oh, you poor soul... I see that there are vestiges of mith's ways still deep inside of you. No, Stevie, we of the Eleventh Hour don't murder those who disappoint us. We merely... educate them.

[Shadowy Fourth Member]:

What do we do about the hopeless masses, sir? Do we have a Plan B?

AniX:

B? No... what we need is a Plan 11...

Thestatusquo:

Don't you think you're taking this 11 shtick a little too... ow! What did you do that for?

AniX:

Even my most loyal followers are in need of some loving reeducation, yes? Now, you were saying?

Thestatusquo:

Uh... I was saying, I think I have a perfect... plan... 11.

AniX:

Excellent...

---

After a prolonged search, JDodge finally spots Faraday hiding under a row of seats in the middle of the auditorium.

JDodge:

Hey! Faraday! What are you doing under there?

Several fans wearing "Team Faraday" shirts look around suspiciously on hearing his name, but don't see anything other than a smiling JDodge.

Faraday:

Ssshh! Quiet! I don't want them to find me!

JDodge:

Uh... ok, dude. Look, we've got this thing we need to get done, and...

Faraday:

I can't come out until they're gone... It isn't safe.

JDodge:

Until who's gone? And what isn't safe?

Faraday:

And hey, what are you doing out in the open, anyway? You're in more danger than anyone!

JDodge:

What are you talking about??

Faraday:

The shirts, man! The shirts!

JDodge:

Oh, our admiring fans? Isn't it great? Oh, I get it, you've got some stalker after you, is that it?

Faraday:

Seriously? You don't know what the shirts are?

JDodge:

I just assumed...

Faraday:

The people wearing "Team Faraday" shirts want to

kill

me!

JDodge:

But I... but that would mean...

His eyes dart around, finally noticing a small group of "Team JDodge"-wearing hooligans creeping closer, slowly tightening a human-noose around him. In his periphery, one raises an unknown object, and JDodge yelps, making a run for it. He squeezes through a gap between two of his attackers and manages to make his way backstage to safety.

---

The pre-show buzz continues, as cheesy music plays in the auditorium and the crew rushes around on stage. The video team, still stubbornly producing that "Making Of" documentary (limited time offer, buy 6 for the price of 5, limit one per household, must be 80 years or older to apply, separate shipping and handling fees and one-year term agreement), pan around the crowd, taking in the smiling faces (and the murderous ones, as well). as well as the huge men-in-black security personnel casually stalking anyone wearing a "Team Kison" shirt.

Suddenly the camera jerks back to the left, as the cameraman... well, for just a moment he could have sworn there was another person there, where there is only an empty seat. Weird...

---

AniX:

Are you sure this will work?

Thestatusquo:

It's foolproof. Seriously, when has going back in time to change the present ever gone wrong?

AniX:

Good point.

The members of the Eleventh Hour strap in to their hastily constructed time machine, and AniX fiddles with a few buttons, trying to settle on the exact moment in time at which he can best accomplish his goal of undoing the evils of mith...

---

Meanwhile, elsewhere...

[Unknown]:

You know, we should really come up with some dramatic scenes with snappy dialogue. How are we ever going to get any screen time?

---

The Scummies 2011, You Decide... The Final Countdown!

When in time will the Eleventh Hour travel to first?

A. February 26, 2011 - To unleash the hamsters.
B. March 28, 2002 - To affect the creation of mafiascum.net.
C. June 6, 1999 - To prevent mith joining the Grey Labyrinth.
D. 1990 - To convince seven-year-old mith to say "yes" to the girl asking him out on the phone.
E. ? - To shoot his own grandfather. (No, we have no idea how this would be to AniX's benefit. Only one way to find out...)

[mith]

I am pretty sure nothing I have written so far makes sense...

[mith]

[mith]

[mith]

[mith]

The crowd goes wild as Mr. Flay and Kison appear from opposite sides of the stage, smiling and waving. Before they make it to the microphone, we nearly have our first incident of the evening, as CrashTextDummie rips off his tuxedo jacket and dress shirt to reveal "Team Kison" spray-painted on his chest. He rushes the stage wielding a Swiss Army knife. Kison stops smiling and turns to look at him, but makes no move to avoid the attacker... Instead, he stares at CTD passively as security personnel pop up from the orchestra pit. Seeing that he won't be able to make a close-range stab at Kison, CTD quickly opens up another knife and a bottle opener and cocks his arm back to use the weapon like a throwing star. Just before he releases, one of the guards gets to him, and the throw is deflected to the right... where it plunges into JDodge. The crowd gasps (or cheers, depending on their attire), but fortunately a now very white JDodge raises his arm carefully and steps up out of his chair, revealing that the weapon missed his body and arm and instead merely ripped his sleeve.

Kison signals the guards to drag CrashTextDummie off to the back to be dealt with, then looks around to see if there are any more "Team Kison" attackers to be dealt with. Then he resumes smiling and joins Flay at the podium.

Mr. Flay:

Welcome everyone, to the 2011 edition of the Scummies! We're a bit late this year, but I think we have somehow thrown together a great show for you anyway. I'll be your host this year, as mith is still taking a break from the stresses of the site and in particular this award show... Eesh, we haven't even begun yet, and I'm already at my wit's end.

animorpherv1:

Hey, Flay! I've got a great idea!

Mr. Flay looks down into the crowd, where animorpher1 is standing on his seat.

Mr. Flay:

Um... Well, I guess that's ok, it's not as though we actually have a script to follow...

animorpherv1:

You're worried about stuff going wrong tonight, right? Well, we all know JDodge is in mortal danger... But surely as long as JDodge lives, everyone else must be safe!

Mr. Flay:

...huh?

animorpherv1:

It's simple! The universe is clearly out to get JDodge... So as long as we protect him, the universe will be too occupied to get any of the rest of us.

Xalxe stands and sadly shakes his head.

Xalxe:

I'm afraid it doesn't work that way, ani. In fact, my latest publication on metaphysical co-substantiation clearly demonstrates a general principle which can be applied to this particular situation such that we can say with certainty that only some small subset of those present here are safe while JDodge lives.

To prove this point, Xalxe's head explodes from making up so much intelligent sounding nonsense.

animorpherv1:

Oh. Um, never mind then, I guess...

Kison:

Great, we were counting on Xalxe to produce the show! Can anything else go...

Mr. Flay:

Don't you dare finish that question. Look, let's get back to the show, ok? We've got... hey...

Flay notices that he is no longer on the screen, as the cameraman's view has wandered back into the crowd to some commotion centered around YamiChan. Mr. Flay signals to Kison to cut to something else, and Kison hits a button...

[mith]

Backstage, the cameras pan up to a door sloppily marked RECKONING LOUNGE - VIP ONLY. After a moment, the cameras push through the door to find an unholy sight. Several kegs of beer litter the floor, with some being used as chairs and others as tables. An entire row of various liquors line the bartop. Spilled beer cans and empty red solo cups litter the floor, but around the corner, a bunch of scummers sit in a circle with a circle of cards spread around a full fifth of tequila.

xRECKONERx:

Alright guys, it's time for Circle of Death!

noraaa:

Why is there a fifth of Jose Cuervo sitting in the middle?

Grimmjow:

Every time you draw a card, you must stack it on top of the bottle. If your card topples the stack, you must chug tequila for a full five seconds.

Kise:

I thought Flay said he wanted us to play a mafia game live during the show...

Everyone in the circle cuts Kise an evil glare.

Nuwen:

What do you think this is, elementary school?

Jovian:

I mean, we basically got a blank check...

Mastermind of Sin:

...and you expect us

not

to waste it on alcohol? Hah!

Kise shrugs and sits down, joining the circle. Just as the game is about to begin, there's a sound coming from outside the door. Everyone looks around inquisitively. After a quick round of "nose goes", Pie is the loser. He hops up and staggers to the door, throwing it open to reveal Chevre outside the door holding a picket sign and chanting.

Chevre:

Alcohol is evil! Sobriety for life! Alcohol is evil! Sobriety for life!

Pie stares blankly for a moment.

InflatablePie:

I don't even drink...

Suddenly, another person comes barreling around the corner into the room.

Fate:

EXCEPT FOR WHEN HE DOES! HUEHUEHUE! HEY GUYS, LOOK WHO I BROUGHT ALONG!

Now, Faraday swings around the corner as well, nearly knocking Chevre over in the process. Pie slams the door behind him as the group of three join the circle.

Ythan:

So are we going to play or just sit around having wacky hijinks?

Hinduragi:

Let's [removed] play!

Fate jumps in and goes first, drawing a card from the circle. It's an "8".

Fate:

'8 is Mate', so I pick a mate... and by random selection and absolutely no personal preference at all... Nuwen.

Everyone Else:

UGHHHHHH.

Fate neatly stacks his card on top as Pie pulls the next one from the circle.

InflatablePie:

It's a Jack. So... Never Have I Ever!

Everyone winces a bit and puts up three fingers for the game.

InflatablePie:

Never have I ever... been so drunk I blacked out.

The entire group exchanges shifty glances before putting a finger down.

Untrod Tripod:

Never have I ever... uh... had sex with a dude!

Both Grimmjow & Reck simultaneously flick off UT while Nuwen & noraaa grumble under their breath. All of them are down to one finger.

Ythan:

Okay, never have I ever lived anywhere except North Carolina.

With that, Nuwen & noraaa go out... but Kise notices something.

Kise:

WHOA WHOA WHOA... HINDU... WHY ARE YOU OUT?

Hindu looks up, deer-in-headlights-style.

Faraday:

Hindu had sex with a dude?

Fate:

HINDU HAD SEX WITH A DUDE! HAHAHAHA!

Hindu:

No... wait... I wasn't clear on the rules...

Jovian:

BULL[removed]!

Everyone breaks down into uncontrollable laughter as Hindu turns bright red. Untrod Tripod leans in and picks a card. Another '8'.

Untrod Tripod:

Oh... mate again? Let's see... I pick... Gamma!

Gamma pipes up from the corner.

Gammagooey:

Dammit... this is bad...

Reck jumps in and picks a card. It's a King.

xRECKONERx:

I GET TO MAKE A RULE.

Gammagooey:

Well, [removed]...

xRECKONERx:

My rule is...

Grimmjow:

Please don't say it, please don't say it...

xRECKONERx:

Every time you curse, you have to take a drink!

A group-wide groan goes out as Reck sits there, stupid-ass grin on his face. Untrod Tripod looks up at Gamma with a wide grin.

Untrod Tripod:

Hey Gamma, guess what?

Gammagooey:

Don't you do it, UT. DON'T DO IT.

Untrod Tripod takes a deep breath.

Untrod Tripod:

[removed], piss, [removed], [removed], [removed]sucker, mother[removed], and [removed]s.

Everyone else bursts out laughing as Gamma curses more under his breath, only exacerbating his situation. He and UT begin just chugging their drinks as everyone else shrugs and goes 'what the hell' and starts chugging as well.

Kise:

Uh-oh. This is gonna get retarded in here...

The scene, rapidly escalating, makes the cameraman uncomfortable and he high-tails it out of there.

[mith]

The year is 1990, sometime early in the spring, and young mith's family has just finished dinner and settled in to watch some television.

AniX is peering through the back window.

AniX:

How touching... Who would ever have suspected that this child would turn into the monster which has plagued us these long years...

Thestatusquo:

So what's the plan. Can we shoot him?

AniX:

What do you take me for? A mere murderer? Oh, no, I have something far more effective in mind. Heck, mith would probably thank me if he somehow knew, but after we're finished here... He'll never know how different things could have been...

Inside, the phone rings. mith's father walks into the kitchen to answer it.

AniX:

Ah, here it is. Stevie, get ready to pick the lock...

mith's father puts his hand over the phone and calls into the other room for mith. The seven year old boy look confused, clearly not expecting a call from anyone, but he gets up and goes into the kitchen, taking the phone. As soon as mith's father is out of sight, StevieT92 silently unlocks the door, and AniX glides into the kitchen.

mith:

Hello?

[Voice on the Phone]:

Hi... This is Amber... from school?

AniX can read on the young mith's face that he is now even more confused.

Amber:

Zach's friend?

mith:

Uh... Hi, Amber...

The shadowy fourth member of the Eleventh Hour tosses some device on the floor at the edge of the kitchen, just as AniX steps into mith's view. Still holding the phone to his ear, his eyes go wide and his mouth drops open in surprise.

AniX:

Don't worry, little mith, I'm not going to hurt you... But don't shout, either, your parents can't hear you...

Amber:

...is there someone there with you? Anyway... I was just wondering...

AniX:

You may not realize it now, but this is a turning point in your life...

Amber:

Do you want to go out with me?

AniX:

Argh, I had a whole speech planned, but these things always happen so much faster than you expect.

AniX takes the phone.

AniX:

Amber? Hi there, sweetheart. Listen, he'll just be a moment, don't worry, he'll be right back. Ah, there. Much better. Now, where was I. Ah, yes. I can see in your eyes, you're still confused, and it's not just about our sudden appearance here. You weren't expecting anyone to ask you out, much less someone you have barely talked to. You were going to tell that poor girl no, weren't you.

mith:

Uh...

AniX:

You just listen to uncle AniX, yeah? Say yes. Go out with her. It will be an eye opening experience, I guarantee it. You'll see life in a whole new way. By the time you hit puberty, you'll have built up so much confidence that... that...

Thestatusquo:

AniX? What's wrong?

AniX:

It's... nothing, I just... Argh! No! I can't do it! I'm leading him down the path to... to... sex!

He looks back at mith, and points at him accusingly.

AniX:

You ignore everything I just said. You hear that? Everything! I was never here! Come on, crew, we need to find a different lynchpin...

AniX hands the phone back to mith, while the Eleventh Hour exits the kitchen and deactivates whatever soundproof barrier they had used to conceal themselves from the adults in the other room. mith looks back at the phone, and with a shaky hand lifts it back to his ear.

Amber:

You're back? So... um... will you go out with me?

mith hesitates for a really long time, still not sure what to say, trying to put thoughts of those weird strangers out of his mind.

mith:

Uh... no?

She hangs up pretty much immediately, and he wanders back into the living room, somewhat stunned.

mith's Dad:

Who was that?

mith:

I think a girl just asked me out.

mith's Dad:

Reeeaally...

mith:

I said no...

[mith]

[mith]

The ceremony stage stands empty save for the podium. The audience buzzes with anticipation of actual awards being given out. The lights dim and a drumroll starts. The drumroll gets louder and is joined by the lowing of cattle and the sounds of swordfighting. A masked man descends from the ceiling on a rope. He lands majestically behind the podium and the rope is retracted. As the rope is retracting, he throws off his bejeweled cape to reveal a green bodysuit embroidered on the front with a unicorn making love to a Keebler Elf. He walks to the podium and begins orating into the microphone in a deep and sexy voice

Masked Man:

Good evening... Today we will be celebrating the pinnacle of Mafia-related achievements with these, the 2011 Scummies. The Scummies organizers have asked me to be your emcee for the evening. This evening we will honor the best mafiascum.net has had to offer this year by presenting them with our very special and erotic Scummies awards. It'll be great. I'm hard just thinking about it. Let's bring out our judges and get this ceremony underway.

Untrod Tripod, izakthegoomba, AGar and Quilford walk onstage. AGar is visibly stumbling.

Quilford:

Oh, hey, Flay.

Masked Man:

Uhhhhh I'm not Flay... I'm... a mysterious man wooooooo...

AGar:

We saaaaaaaaaw you in the green room

[hiccup]

.

Masked Man:

...dammit.

Masked Man removes his mask, revealing a sweaty Mr. Flay. AGar sways slightly.

Mr. Flay:

...I'll be back later.

Mr. Flay walks off the stage.

Untrod Tripod:

That aside, I would like to start by saying how honored I am to be chosen as a judge and I really love this--

Quilford:

Shut up. No one cares.

Untrod Tripod:

Oh uh. Right sorry. Anyway, our first award honors the player who was best able to put into words a role claim. This year's winner used his role claim to fantastic effect in his game and was able to use it to lynch a cheeky serial killer. This year's winner of the

"Johnny Cochrane" Award for Best Role Claim

is...

CrashTextDummie for Doctor

!

---

NY 136

"Killerjester is not a doctor. This is a counterclaim." - CrashTextDummie

"As the mod, I was really impressed by how the scumteam, and particularly CTD, worked out the roles of the players. In fact, he had most of the town convinced that there was a scum rolecop - but it was just CTD's deductive skills!" - Amrun

"So, CTD fake-counter-claimed an SK to get the SK lynched within a page? Yeah, that's badass, no matter what the outcome of the game" - Umbrage

---

CrashTextDummie walks up to the stage in restraints, escorted by two security guards.

CrashTextDummie:

Wow, this is such a great award. I'm honored to receive it.

AGar:

No you're not! I'M honored to receive it!

izakthegoomba:

I don't think that's how it works...

Untrod Tripod:

Yeah... let's leave the fakeclaiming up to the professionals.

CrashTextDummie:

But I actually am honored to receive this award.

Untrod Tripod:

Sure you are. VOTE AGAR.

izakthegoomba:

No that's not what we're doing.

Quilford:

Can we just let him finish his speech?

CrashTextDummie:

Thank you. Anyway this is a great honor. I hope I can follow it up next year with an even better role claim!

AGar:

Boooooooo! I liked the

[hiccup]

mask guy better! Did you see his package?

Quilford:

Shut up! Shut up all of you!

Untrod Tripod:

No.

CrashTextDummie:

Anyway that was it. Thank you, everyone!

CrashTextDummie runs offstage quickly before the guards realize what's happening. They look at each other, and then chase after him.

izakthegoomba:

Ok let's not draw this BS out. The winner--

AGar:

Where's the boooooooooooze!?!?!

Untrod Tripod:

I think there's some off the front of the stage

AGar:

It's mine I saw it first!

AGar dives off the front of the stage.

izakthegoomba:

The winner of the

"Friends Forever!" Award for Funniest Role Claim

is...

Fritzler for Sex Cop

!

---

Square Enix Mafia Gaiden

"I am Irvine Kinneas from FFVIII. I am a sex cop. Every night I have sex with someone, and I can tell if they are a female or not. I got female for bristep. He claimed a dude. Glork, do you want my choices?"

"Actually I think I only have sex with them if they are female. I hope. It is not 100% clear."

"But having sex doesn't do anything. I am just trying to help save my heterosexuality." - Fritzler

"I was laughing HYSTERICALLY in the dead thread." - GreyICE

---

izakthegoomba:

I'm told that Fritzler can't be with us because he is, in his words, "sexing up the entire Swedish Women's Diving Team".

Untrod Tripod:

So, frenzied masturbation and crying.

izakthegoomba:

Don't be a dick.

Quilford:

Is AGar ok?

AGar staggers back onstage with a bottle of Jim Beam. He takes a swig directly from the bottle.

AGar:

Alright! Let's get this going. It's time for me to read the next

[hiccup]

award. Where's my envelope?

Untrod Tripod:

Here.

Untrod Tripod produces an envelope from his jacket and hands it to AGar.

AGar:

Thanks!

AGar opens the envelope and studies the picture.

AGar:

This appears to be gay pornography.

Untrod Tripod:

Exactly.

Quilford:

Um. So... the winner of the "The Flying Pumpkin--

AGar:

NO IT'S MY AWARD I'M READING IT. So this award is going to the muscular gentleman in this photograph who appears to have spawned an extra leg and is using it to--

izakthegoomba:

NO! BAD TOUCH! BAD TOUCH!

Quilford:

Ok, I'm just going to do this myself. The winner of the

"Flying Pumpkin That Shoots Laser Beams Out Of Its Ass" Award for Best Role

is...

Empking for Mafia Don

!

---

Mini 1097

"You are the Mafia Don (Mafia)

You’re the head of the Mafia and you hope that the son of your late sister will became Mafia Don after you; an event that’ll happen sooner than later because you’ve got a heart problem and the only one who can give you the transplant is your nephew and well, y’know he’d probably die without a heart.

You are the Mafia along with XXX your nephew. You can talk to each other at night and pre-game and as a group kill a player each night. As an individual, unless XXX dies first, you’ll die night two of a Heart Attack.

You win when the entire town is dead or nothing can prevent the same." - Empking

"It [Mafia Don] sets up some pretty nice bussing/distancing/buddying action the first few days. It's the same way that you play a Godfather differently to try and draw the cop investigation, or you play a Goon differently by trying to derail wagons on your PR buddies. When you draw Mafia Don as a role, you must play conservatively, knowing that the first two days are all you've got unless your scumbuddy sacrifices themselves. It also forces the scumteam to figure out which one of them is more important overall -- if it's the Goon, then the Don just plays his ass off until N2. If it's the Don, however, then an elaborate bus must be setup to keep him alive." - xRECKONERx

"The game was perfectly balanced, and this all makes it a extra-ordinary mafia setup. The role that made it all possible, the mafia don which had a weak heart, was a brilliant idea." - mykonian

---

izakthegoomba:

I'm being motioned offstage by Mr. Flay to hurry this along, so let's just assume that Empking came up here and was super grateful and stuff. Ok, let's all get offstage before this gets out of hand.

AGar:

I AM A FORCE OF NATURE AND I WILL RULE THIS WORLD.

AGar runs into the crowd and then out the back door. Untrod Tripod, izakthegoomba, and Quilford walk offstage. Sirens are heard as Mr. Flay returns.

[mith]

Mr. Flay:

We would like to take a break in the action to bring you this brief musical interlude...

Mr. Flay backs away from the podium and a flood of light obscures the stage. The lights dim a bit and reveal a four-piece band on stage. The singer is wearing a shirt that says “I am the singer and I am going to sing”. The bass drum of the drum kit has a label on it that says “these drums are drums”.

Singer:

Hello mafiascum! We are Tautological Circle Jerk and we are going to play a song that is a song.

---

The song starts with a guitar riff...

"It's time for the song to begin
after it begins the song will begin
we'll start with a riff that is a riff
and then we'll be playing a riff..."

The drum player adds a beat to the the mix...

"After that the drums come in
after that the drums will have come in
after about eight bars we'll start a verse
then we'll have started a verse...[/i]

The bass player and rhythm guitarist come in to start the verse structure...

"This is a song
this song is a song
this song starts with a verse
the first part of a song is a verse...

We'll repeat the melody
with different words
we're doubling the length of the verse
with different words...

The chorus of the song
is the chorus of the song
repetition of a phrase a few times in a song
is a chorus of a song...

Now that you've heard the verse once
you've heard the verse once
you'll recognize the same music
when you hear the same music...

You'll know that it's a verse chorus structure
when you hear it's verse chorus structure
these different words
are different words...

The chorus of the song
is the chorus of the song
repetition of a phrase a few times in a song
is a chorus of a song..."

The guitars drop out...

"When the guitars drop out
the guitars have dropped out
you do a different thing for the bridge
by doing a different thing..."

The guitars come back in and do a 16 bar instrumental section, the singer holds up a sign that says “this instrumental section is an instrumental section".

"Now we will do a modulation
the modulation will be up a step
when you modulate up a step
you modulate up a step..."

The band modulates up a step...

"The chorus of the song
is the chorus of the song
repetition of a phrase a few times in a song
is a chorus of a song..."

---

The song ends and the audience applauds by applauding.

Singer:

It's great to be here because it's great to be here! We would like to show our gratitude by showing you our gratitude. We're selling CDs that are compact discs in the lobby. We're selling our first album called

This Album by Tautological Circle Jerk Is An Album By Tautological Circle Jerk

, our second album which is called

This Is Our Second Album Because It Was The Album We Released Second

and our EP called

EP's Are Not Exactly Albums But Are Longer Than Singles

. We'll see you later by seeing you.

The band walks off the stage by walking off and Mr. Flay drunkenly stumbles back to the podium by drunkenly stumbling.

Mr. Flay:

They were a thing, weren't they folks? Now, a word from our sponsors!

[mith]

Voidedmafia can see from the big screen that the ceremony has just started. He has plenty of time. Surely AniX wouldn't be foolish enough to attack now. He glances around, seeing mith on stage with Mr. Flay and some Masked Figure. A great disguise for someone wanting to kill mith. Voided moves to the edge of the stage, ready to jump in if needed, when he hears a voice.

DarlaBlueEyes:

mith! Hey! Over here!

Voided breathes a sigh of relief. It's just DarlaBlueEyes trying to get on screen.

mith:

Hmm? What do you want?

DarlaBlueEyes:

I want to dooooo something! I want to be a part of the Scummies! And these guys won't let me go!

mith:

Oh. Well, in that case... Hey, get a camera over here. All right. Here, read this.

DarlaBlueEyes:

Um, okay. But... I had something much better planned.

Darla suddenly stabs the two crew members who were holding her back, with daggers that appeared out of nowhere.

Voidedmafia:

Nooooooooo!

Darla leaps onto the stage in front of mith as Voided tries in vain to scramble up in time to stop her.

DarlaBlueEyes:

This may be my first Scummies, mith, but it'll be your last.

mith:

Um, Darla? Ya know, some context for why you want me dead would be nice...

DarlaBlueEyes:

Oh. Damn. Sorry, I knew I was forgetting something.

Darla takes out a piece of paper and begins to read.

DarlaBlueEyes:

I, Darla, am the first to take up arms against mith on behalf of the 11th hour and Lord AniX. He has shown me the one true path. Your reign of terror is over, mith. It's time to die.

Darla raises her daggers, ready to strike, when something hits her. She disappears into thin air.

mith:

What? What the hell just happened?

Voidedmafia appears on stage, relieved.

Voidedmafia:

You could say Darla got sent to the

void

.

A few people in the crowd groan, recognising Voided.

mith:

Um, who are you?

Voidedmafia:

What do you mean, who am I? I've been here over a year now, and...

Voided trails off, remembering where he is.

Voidedmafia:

Never mind, you're safe now. Anix's plot has failed. You can continue with the Scummies ceremony.

The Masked Figure just shrugs his shoulders, as if to say 'why not?'

mith:

Well, then... let's get the 2010 Scummies ceremony rolling...

[mith]

[mith]

The next batch of judges walk out onto the stage: Mina, Kublai Khan, Regfan, and redFF. As they reach the podium, Mina steps up.

Mina:

As Scummies judges, we hold ourselves to a high standard of excellence! We take our time to thoughtfully and meticulously comb through every thread to make sure the absolute best person for the award wins it!

Kublai Khan scoffs at Mina and picks up the microphone.

Kublai Khan:

What are you talking about, Mina!? You were hardly even there! You came up with an excuse every single time -- "Oh, I got into a car wreck" or "Oh, I have a terminal illness that prevents me from reading things!" Give me a freaking break!

Mina's eyes well up with tears. redFF steps up to Kublai Khan.

redFF:

How dare you! Back off of Mina, she's just an innocent, defenseless girl! She's done nothing wrong, you big ol' meanie jerk poop head!

Kublai Khan rolls his eyes.

Kublai Khan:

Come on, red. Haven't we had enough white knighting this year?

Suddenly, Regfan's eyes light up as he steps up to the microphone.

Regfan:

Aha! Someone said white knighting! What a perfect segue into our first award...

Regfan fumbles around and opens the first envelope.

Regfan:

The winner of the

"White Knight" Award for Best Replacement

is...

Setael

!

---

Neruzian Mafia

"I'm glad to see Setael is both alive and as good as I remember" - Vi

"Setael is indeed a beast" - hiplop

---

redFF loudly jeers towards Regfan.

redFF:

Boooo! What a lame setup! Always going for the low-hanging fruit, aren't you, Regfan?

Mina:

Can't everyone just stop arguing and finish the awards show!?

Regfan:

Mina... we're mafia players. It's... in... our... blood...

Kublai Khan pushes Regfan out of the way and hastily opens the next envelope.

Kublai Khan:

The winner of the

"Rube Goldberg" Award for Best Setup

is...

AurorusVox for RPG Mafia

!

---

RPG Mafia

"The game was extremely fun, incredibly well-thought-out, and pretty innovative, in my opinion" - mastin2

"AV's setup flows and is a free-for-all" - Quilford

---

Kublai Khan steps back from the podium.

Kublai Khan:

Come on guys, it's not that hard. I know we're born with the need to argue and bitch about mundane things -- that's why we play mafia. Hell, that's why we're on the internet at all!

Mina:

You're right... for this one common good... for the good of the Scummies... we can come together in harmony and present the absolute [removed] out of these awards!

Mina, caught up in her own momentum, steps up to the podium and rips apart the envelope with her teeth. She spits it out and reads the next winner in a hurried voice.

Mina:

The winner of the

"Grr, Arg" Award for Best Mechanic/Mutation

is...

Magua for Marketplace Mafia

!

---

Marketplace Mafia

"Congratz to Magua, this is just awesome. I'm defenitivelly /in for the next one." - malpascp

"Magua, great idea, great setup, great everything. I am so proud." - Slaxx

---

The other three judges turn back towards redFF.

Regfan:

Go on, red. It's not that hard.

redFF:

Never! I cannot go against my own human nature!

He turns to Mina.

redFF:

Ha! You're ugly and Canadians smell bad!

Mina twitches and goes to impulsively argue with him, but stops mid-sentence. Frustrated, redFF moves on to the next person.

redFF:

You! You big oaf! Yeah, you're fat! And... stupid!

Kublai Khan just rolls his eyes and sighs, ignoring redFF. redFF nearly loses it as he moves on to Regfan.

redFF:

You're... gay. Hah! Gay! Hey guys! Check out how gay he is!

Regfan just shakes his head and pats redFF on the shoulder, suppressing the urge to strike back.

redFF:

N... no... nobody is arguing with me... does not... compute... urrrhrhghghghg!!!

As redFF begins to malfunction, Regfan hands him the final envelope. In the midst of his breakdown, he manages to eek out the winner's name.

redFF:

The winner of the

"Smooth Operator" Award for Moderational Excellence

is...

Equinox for Mini 1272

!

---

Mini 1272

"Equinox's game, though, is like RETARDED with how good it is. Equi seriously ninja'd the players and posted a vote count in the first post of damn near every page in the game. Whoo boy." - xRECKONERx

---

redFF continues to melt down. The "Get Off The Stage" music begins to play. Kublai Khan, Mina, and Regfan rush off the stage while redFF breaks down into convulsions. The cameras quickly cut away.

[mith]

Sometime in the past, Shea appears. He is standing on a street. It's night -- probably sometime after 2AM, judging by the lack of cars nearby. Shea's super special time-impervious cell phone rings. He looks at the phone and quickly answers.

Shea:

AniX! Just got here. Doesn't look like there's anyone nearby. Mhmm... I mean... we're sure this will work, right? Because this whole plan seems really, really ridiculous and I'm not even sure that this is how time travel actually works outside of bad science fiction.

He nods slowly as AniX rambles back on the other end of the phone.

Shea:

...well, alright then. I'm just saying, I'm not sure WHERE the hell we're going with this.

Shea hangs up and slides the phone back into his pocket. Nearby, the very fabric of reality itself starts to visibly ripple. Shea curses under his breath and darts inside the building behind him. Moments later, Haylen arrives.

Haylen:

If my coordinates are right, he should be RIGHT here...

She looks around, puzzled, not seeing Shea anywhere.

Haylen:

You know... come to think of it... where are we, anyway? Or maybe the question is...

when

are we?

Haylen shuffles around the empty, darkened streets, looking for a sign of the times. She notices a nearby poster for Barack Obama's presidential campaign.

Haylen:

Right, Obama's running for President... must be 2007 or 2008.

Nearby, however, there's a poster with Santorum smeared all over it.

Haylen:

Wait... this isn't 2008. It's

2012

.

A conveniently placed LED sign lights up nearby, displaying the date and time.

Haylen:

February 26th, 2012... 3:00AM... why does that sound so familiar?

As she thinks on it, she turns around behind her to notice the building that is gratuitously marked in giant letters SERVER FARM AND HOSTING. It all clicks at once.

Haylen:

No! The site crash! I--

Almost on cue, Shea dives out of a window of the store. BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM. An explosion rocks the streets, propelling Shea even further forward. Haylen falls on her back. Shea flies through the air and lands on top of her. The two are nose-to-nose for a moment as fire and shrapnel rains down around them.

Shea:

Well, this is awkward.

Suddenly, Haylen snaps out of it and presses the time travel button on her wristwatch. Shea attempts to run but Haylen grabs hold of him, zapping the two out of February and back to the present.

[mith]

[TBD]:

Wait, wait, wait. I thought

we

were responsible for the big explosion. This doesn't make any sense. What's the point in us trying to ruin a show that doesn't make any sense anyway even without our interference?

[TBA]:

Don't worry... It will all make perfect sense in the end... When they feel our wrath...

[TBD]:

It will? Promise? Pinky swear?

[TBA]:

Of course. Would I lie?

[mith]

The words "State of the Forum" rotate on the screen as an empty podium with the official Forum 62 insignia is shown. A gentlemanly voice booms over the speakers.

[Gentlemanly Voice]:

Ladies and gentlemen... your Czar... ChannelDelibird.

CDB struts up to the podium in a suit and tie. He waves and smiles that toothless British smile and clears his throat. Unfolding some papers from his pocket, he flattens them out against the top of the podium and begins to speak.

ChannelDelibird:

Good morning... erm... afternoon... erm... tea time!

He chuckles and then composes himself again.

ChannelDelibird:

In less than an hour, trolls from all around the internet will be launching an attack on Forum 62.

Shocked and panicked whispers go up all around the room.

ChannelDelibird:

They will be launching the largest cyber battle in this history of mankind.

He pauses and scoffs for a moment, deep in thought.

ChannelDelibird:

..."mankind". That word should have new meaning for all of us today. We can't be consumed by our petty differences anymore! So what if Chevre likes Rick Santorum? So what if Nobody Special engages in borderline pedophiliac behavior? We will be united in our common interests -- accusing people of being liars, and lynching them for their trespasses!

CDB gets obviously passionate as others are left confused.

ChannelDelibird:

Perhaps it's fate that today is the day of the Scummies, and we will once again be fighting for our freedom. Not from tyranny, oppression, or persecution -- but from trolling. We're fighting for our right to post freely, to have intelligent discussion without the bullshit!

He slams his fists down in triumph.

ChannelDelibird:

And should we win the day, the Scummies will no longer be known as an American holiday, but as the day when we declared in one voice: WE WILL NOT GO QUIETLY INTO THE NIGHT! WE WILL NOT VANISH WITHOUT A FIGHT! WE'RE GOING TO LIVE ON! WE'RE GOING TO SURVIVE!

He throws his hands into the air for the big finish.

ChannelDelibird:

TODAY, WE CELEBRATE--

He is cut off by someone off-stage.

???:

BOOOOOOO! YOU'RE JUST QUOTING INDEPENDENCE DAY!

As it starts to register with the other members of the audience, a loud chorus of jeers begins to go up. CDB rolls his eyes and drops the false bravado.

ChannelDelibird:

Oh whatever! I forgot I even had to give a speech until like an hour ago, what else was I supposed to do? I mean, really, as Czar of 62, I haven't really done... anything. At all. But you all elected me anyway! So I guess what I'm really trying to say here is--

He is cut off when JDodge jumps up on stage and charges him.

JDodge:

Mr. Czar of Forum 62! Get dooooooooooown!

JDodge tackles him as a gunshot rings out in the room. It narrowly misses the two of them as it ricochets off of a nearby wall. Panic breaks out in the room as the cameras abruptly cut away.

[mith]

Back in the main forum, the camera catches Mr. Flay looking ever-so-slightly disappointed before he reverts to a somber and concerned expression.

Mr. Flay:

Well, I think it's safe to say we've

dodged

a bullet there, folks...

Loud groans.

Mr. Flay:

Anyway... Let's get on with the show. It's what CDB would have wanted.

[Offstage Voice]:

I'm still alive!

Mr. Flay:

After our...

wonderful

earlier Reckoning reunion, let's go to DGB and company for a piece of Goofbash! We have a Goofbash reunion game about to start, so without further ado, we'll go live to dramonic, who will be moderating.

The camera switches to DrippingGoofball's living room. In the middle stands dramonic, surrounded by a group of scummers, some on couches and others on the floor. Now the camera pans across the room, focusing on the faces of the attendees one at a time. You see DrippingGoofball, Mina, Nikanor, Katsuki, TheButtonMen, chamber, VitaminR, Cogito Ergo Sum, Patrick, Sensfan, Ether, tanstalas, and Minineko.

Mr. Flay:

Should we wait on Fate and Faraday? What about Kise?

dramonic looks pleadingly at those behind him, but they avert their eyes.

dramonic:

Um, well, the thing is... the thing is...

Nikanor jumps in front of the camera, saving dramonic.

Nikanor:

Faraday and Fate are sick, so they couldn't make it. Flu or something, it's really sad. Kise is... uh, busy.

Mr. Flay:

Oh? But I could have sworn I saw them at the complimentary bar earlier... never mind. Are you still going to play? Come to think of it, I see some more missing faces.

DGB:

Oh, ABR got arrested. He tried to fakeclaim cop to talk his way out of a ticket on the way here. I have no idea where on earth Blackberry disappeared to.

Cut to DrippingGoofball's basement, where a trenchcoat and sunglasses-clad Blackberry is whispering into a headset.

Blackberry:

Agent Fox, this is Agent Mole. I have infiltrated the eagle's nest. Repeat, I have infiltrated the eagle's nest.

He giggles playfully.

Blackberry:

Operation Deep Throat is in Stage 3. Do you copy?

The camera cuts back to the Goofbash reunion.

dramonic:

I have a creative set-up in mind. I promise that this time the game can't end before

at least

night two--

SensFan stands up.

SensFan:

ON SECOND THOUGHT, WHY DON'T I JUST RUN A LARGE VENGEFUL INSTEAD?

chamber looks up from his Gameboy.

chamber:

Then I'm out. Told you guys, not playing a vengeful.

Ether:

And I'm not playing. My DGB fanfic needs work. We should be doing karaoke, anyway.

Mr. Flay

: How many do you have then?

SensFan:

PATRICK'S PLAYING CHESS--NOT SURE IF HE'S DONE, YET. PATRICK, YOU GONNA PLAY?

The camera zooms in on Patrick, who appears to be deep in thought.

SensFan:

PATRICK! ARE YOU--

Patrick:

You call yourself the chesskid? Well, I'm the chess

king

. You should have stuck to checkers... man.

The crowd groans, but he ignores them and goes back to his game.

Nikanor:

I'm pretttty sure we can take that as a no, SensFan.

dramonic goes to sit down in SensFan's former seat. The crowd watches on as Sensfan hands cards out to the DrippingGoofball, Nikanor, Cogito Ergo Sum, Katsuki, TheButtonman, Mina, VitaminR, dramonic, and Tanstalas.

SensFan:

ALL RIGHT. HEADS DOWN--

Minineko:

Wait a minute. You forgot about me. Why do people always do that?

SensFan:

SORRY. LOOK, WHY DON'T YOU HYDRA WITH YOUR MOTHER OR SOMETHING? GO SIT NEXT TO DGB.

Minineko:

Fine. At least I'm not hydraing with Ether again.

TheButtonMen:

Not so loud, Bert.

He motions to Ether, who is using TBM as a backrest. But Ether just keeps typing, a dreamy smile on her face.

Ether:

And then, mith's minions handcuffed DGB to Lord Gurgi's bedpost!

SensFan:

HEADS DOWN. MAFIA, HEADS UP.

As the scum team of DGB/Minineko, Mina, Katsuki and dramonic open their eyes, SensFan stifles a groan. The crowd is confused by his reaction.

As he announces the beginning of day 1, a fit of giggles can be heard in the corner. We see Mina cover her face with her hands.

Immediately, Nikanor, CES, Katsuki and TheButtonMen point towards her. dramonic, meanwhile, is pointing at CES.

CES:

Hammer her, Vit.

VitaminR:

I'm not really sure. I think we should discuss--

Vitamin is cut off as Mina's uncontrollable laughter drowns him out.

Mina:

I'm... I'm not sc-... not...

She collapses into more hysterical giggling, unable to say any more.

dramonic:

Guys, CES is scum.

Nikanor:

DeeGeeBeee hammer, please.

DGB:

I caaaan't. She's my scumbuddy! And worse luck, I think she's my Godfather, too.

tanstalas:

Dude, we can't vote Mina. She's a girl.

dramonic:

CES is scum.

CES:

Vit, listen. Mina's confirmed scum. I'm confirmed town because dramonic is voting me. Hammer her.

VitaminR:

We should definitely take more time to discuss it. I don't feel comfortable voting before twenty minutes have passed. Besides, Katsuki's said nothing yet and I have a minor scumread on--

TheButtonMen's eyes light up.

TheButtonMen:

Wait? Katsuki's in this game? Let's just lynch Katsuki instead.

The hands of tanstalas, Nikanor and TBM all move toward Katsuki at once.

dramonic:

CES is still scum.

Vitamin looks conflicted, but slowly raises his arm in Katsuki's direction.

Katsuki:

I'm not scu--

CES:

Yarr.

CES drops the hammer immediately.

Sensfan:

KATSUKI, MAFIA GODFATHER, WAS LYNCHED DAY ONE. TOWN WINS! THANKS FOR WATCHING, EVERYONE.

Mr. Flay:

SensFan? What the hell? You guys told me that'd last twenty minutes at least with Vitamin playing. We need to fill time

again

. You're just making Kison do more work!

Sensfan:

Well, I guess I was wrong. That's it?

Patrick:

CHESSKING!

Ether:

Don't do that, Patrick.

Patrick:

Sorry. I'm not quite sure what came over me. Won't happen again.

Mr. Flay:

Well, thanks, everyone. That was an anticlimactic end to this segment, but... now it's time for a word from our sponsors.

[mith]

[mith]

Mr. Flay:

I don't think Goofbash is wasting enough time. We need to stall some more! How can we distract the masses?

Kison:

I know. We'll post an ad for a new Site Owner and we'll watch them squirm. I'll post this:

Site Owner

Responsibilities:

• Monitor all aspects of the site for potential and actual issues.
  
• Develop site policy appropriate to our size, mission, aesthetic, and to spite Shea.
  
• Implement clever ways to troll the userbase when they get uppity (e.g. Forum 62).
  
• Disappear for months due to "real-life". Wait for inevitable disastrous crash to step in and save day. Invent fanciful threats (e.g. tigers, AniX) to distract the users from real issues.

Qualifications:

• Positives: Has seen
  The Notebook
  ; likes long walks on the beach; has a prescription for Xanax.

Less than five minutes pass...

Vi:

I would be an exceptional candidate for the Site Owner position, pending understanding of some alternative prerequisites. I have not seen

The Notebook

, but it is my assumption that

Death Note

is sufficiently similar as a model moderation policy. I would like to substitute long walks in secluded wooded areas for beach trips, due to a selfish personal preference toward not walking around in a sandstorm by people who as a general rule Should Not be wearing swimsuits. (If this is an implied requirement toward finding sixtysomethings in Speedos romantic, I will on request offer a substitute fetish.) I have a prescription for Xanax; however, I sell the pills on the street corner so I can save up the money to buy this really cool meth lab so I can make the BIG BUCK$ so I can pay for my psych visits. In the meantime I deal with my psychosocial issues by throwing feces at my computer and continuously making horrible puns out of other peoples' usernames. I believe that with these clarifications, it is manifest that I would be an ideal Site Owner.

Mr. Flay:

Interesting. And how are your Shea-spiting skills?

Vi:

Above average.

Mr. Flay and Kison confer privately.

Kison:

Sadly, we don't think you're very reliable for disappearing. Why, you've been here since 2008 and haven't disappeared once! That's hardly acceptable.

Vi looks dejected and shuffles around in his/her pockets for a pill; pops it.

Vi:

You aren't running out of Xanax, are you?

Kison:

How could you suggest we would do such a thing? We're respectable administrators of this site!

Vi shrugs and walks away. Looking around furtively, Kison and Mr. Flay chase after her. Money changes hands. Kison and Mr. Flay return, looking much more relaxed.

[mith]

hiplop, LLD, Magua, and Umbrage walk onstage to an almost deafening round of a very moderate amount of applause.

hiplop:

Hello everyone! We're here now to honor a very special user.

Magua:

We sure are, hiplop. This next user is one of our most unique posters.

hiplop:

One of our funniest too.

Magua:

That's why were here.

LLD:

Can I do the next award?

Magua:

No.

hiplop:

The "Coffee on the Monitor" award is given annually to the funniest poster onsite.

Magua:

This year we are proud to give this award to the purveyor of moonbeams and the wearer of pants on heads.

LLD:

The winner of the

"Coffee on the Monitor" Award for Funniest Player

is...

SpyreX

!

---

SpyreX

"Shhh you're my secret star shining brightly that if the others opt to come play the game I expect to drop a mystical hammer" - SpyreX

"Aside from that this amazing newbie Algonquin round table is truly beautiful in its glory. Picture monocles and tophats and no pants. Because, once again, they're on their heads.

HOWEVER, that's not the key to this mystery of the missing pants. The keys to this are: Johhog and Fitz.

Fitz's LOOK AT THIS WAGON YO ALL THE SCUMS ARE ON IT isn't even precocious. Its just blatantly pushing a poor agenda. And Johhog's "SIGH BETTER DONE PLACE THIS VOTE and his new "case on fitz poor gut calls" junk can go the way of the dodo.

If there's more vigs, they need to become one with the earth." - SpyreX

---

hiplop:

SpyreX couldn't be with us tonight because he and his new daughter are busy planning her eventual election to President of the Galaxy.

Magua:

We wish them both the best.

Umbrage:

GUYS I'M PRETTY SURE HE ACTUALLY IS HERE.

hiplop:

Quiet, you.

Magua:

Read the next award, buddy.

Umbrage:

THE NEXT AWARD IS PAPERBACK WRITER. IT GOES TO THE MODERATOR WHO WROTE THE BEST FLAVOR TEXT THIS YEAR. IT IS AN EXTREMELY DIFFICULT AND TIME-CONSUMING JOB AND THIS AWARD IS AN AMAZINGLY FABULOUS HONOR. IT CELEBRATES BOTH THE DEDICATION OF THE MODERATOR TO THE EXCELLENCE OF HIS OR HER GAME AND TO THE MODERATOR'S ABILITY TO WRITE OUTSTANDING FLAVOR TEXT.

Magua:

Thank you Umbrage. Read the winner, LLD.

LLD:

The winner of the

"Paperback Writer" Award for Best Flavour Text

is...

Wraith for Imperial Intrigue

!

---

Imperial Intrigue

"Seriously impressive flavor throughout the entire game, from Lynch scenes to role pms to even his roleblocking and recruitment pms. And its all original."
- Agar

---

Enigma walks onstage

Enigma:

Wow! What an honor to win this award. Back when I was living my parents I was planning this game I went out to play some basketball to clear my mind off from writing all this flavor. I was doing some drills by myself when some guys came up to me who clearly were career miscreants. They started making some trouble--

Magua:

Is this just going to end up with you moving to Bel Air?

Enigma:

...maybe?

hiplop:

Go away please.

Enigma:

I do much better with the written word than the spoken word.

Enigma frowns, and is pulled off the stage by a cane.

LLD:

Our next award goes to the person who contributed the most intelligent discussion to the MD forum this year.

Magua:

Truly a hard award to win.

hiplop:

It is. The particular discussion that netted this year's award winner was one concerning how to play as mafia. This nefarious poster seeks to aid in the destruction of towns everywhere.

Magua:

He is truly doing god's work.

LLD:

The winner of the

"Professor Mafia" Award for Best Contribution to Mafia Discussion/The Wiki

is...

Lord Gurgi for "How to win as Mafia: Calculated Inaction"

!

---

How to win as Mafia: Calculated Inaction

"A lot of people could do some improving by reading and trying to follow this." - Benmage

"I found this an amazing read the first time I read it and still enjoy reading it now. A lot of is incredibly relevant and is a good guide on what to look for as town as well as what to try and aim to do as mafia." - Regfan

---

Nothing happens.

Umbrage:

PAPA ZITO SEEMS TO BE COLLECTING HIS AWARD BY SITTING IN HIS SEAT. WHAT A CALCULATED AND BRILLIANT INACTION. PAUSE FOR LAUGHTER.

Magua:

You don't actually have to say "pause for laughter".

Umbrage:

IT SEEMS LIKE YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND HUMOR. PAUSE FOR LAUGHTER.

hiplop:

It seems like we now need our next award winner now more than ever.

Magua:

Now to collect their award, this year's most impressive serial killer.

hiplop:

May he practice his trade on Umbrage tonight.

Umbrage:

PAUSE FOR SAD REFLECTION.

LLD:

The winner of the

"Hannibal Lecter" Award for Best Performance Third Party

is...

Kublai Khan for PetsPick Animal Rescue

!

---

PetsPick Animal Rescue

"KK pulled off a damn-near flawless victory in a game where, if I had drawn anti-town, I probably would've pooped my pants and given up immediately." - xRECKONERx

"Look at that playerlist. A serial killer win is always impressive but an SK win in that game is doubley impressive. Outstanding work." - Faraday

hiplop removes his face to reveal that he is in fact Kublai Khan and stabs Umbrage in the stomach. He then runs offstage into the darkness

Magua:

Truly impressive work.

Umbrage:

I THINK I NEED A HOSPITAL.

hiplop:

Pause for laughter.

[mith]

Kison:

Uh, Flay? Weren't we supposed to have something going on right now? We've just got crappy filler music playing...

Mr. Flay:

I thought the video crew filming the time travel stuff would have something by now... I guess they are having trouble streaming video through a paradox.

Kison:

...what do you mean, "paradox"?

Mr. Flay:

Oh, it's no big deal. AniX goes back and kills his great-great-great-grandfather. Something about asexual superpowers. It was going to give this show a nice dash of "western". Shea wearing a cowboy hat, that sort of thing.

Kison:

Wait, how do you know all this?

Mr. Flay:

It's time travel, duh. Already happened. We've been holding on to a copy of the newspaper.

Kison:

So he actually did it? Killed his great-great-great-grandfather?

Mr. Flay:

Technically... yes, I suppose he did...

Kison:

Shouldn't we be worried about the universe collapsing in on itself or ceasing to exist or something?

Mr. Flay:

Ordinarily, yes. But when AniX shot his ancestor, he just triggered an asexual reproduction cycle. Split right in two. Argh, why don't we have this on film?

Kison:

We've got to show them

something

. Otherwise, we're going to have to air us talking about this, and that's just... silly.

Mr. Flay:

Yeah, I guess you're right. Let's go find something worth filming backstage...

Kison:

Worth filming? That's an awfully high standard...

[mith]

Backstage, Reck, UMBRAGE, and Faraday are sitting around a table in the green room with a bottle of Jack. They are playing poker.

Faraday:

So then I says to them "that's no fire hydrant, that's my ding-a-ling!"

Umbrage:

HAHA! IT'S FUNNY BECAUSE YOU WERE URINATING ON CHILDREN.

Mr. Flay:

What? No.

xRECKONERx:

Are we all checked?

Faraday:

I want to raise a sheep.

xRECKONERx:

For the last [removed] time, we are not betting sheep.

Faraday:

But I have so many...

xRECKONERx:

Zero [removed]s given. Here's the last card.

Reck flips over a card. It is the ace of diamonds

xRECKONERx:

Umbrage was the last to raise.

Umbrage:

I'M ALL IN.

xRECKONERx:

What could you possibly have?

Umbrage:

A HAND FULL OF WIN.

Faraday:

Technically I should have bet first because I raised last.

xRECKONERx:

You tried to raise a sheep.

Faraday:

They're legal tender in Scotland.

xRECKONERx:

Well we're not in Scotland anymore, Dorothy.

Faraday:

That should be McDorthy.

Umbrage:

SO CAN I WIN THE GAME YET?

Reck:

You have to show me your cards.

Umbrage:

READ 'EM AND WEEP.

UMBRAGE flips his cards, which are a 2 of clubs, a 4 of diamonds, a king of spades, a queen of clubs, and a green number 2 card from Uno

xRECKONERx:

That is exactly nothing.

Umbrage:

So I win now, right?

xRECKONERx:

You have to take your pants off now.

Faraday:

Backstage strip poker is gay.

xRECKONERx:

...yes Faraday that was the joke.

[mith]

[Voice-over]:

Hi, I'm SleepyKrew, here with a public service announcement. Over the last couple of years, you might have noticed the troubling influx of homosexuals on our once-great forum. I got together with a crack team of homophobic scientists and we came up with God's Own Solution, now in a convenient aerosol can.

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[mith]

After the commercial break, the camera returns to DGB's living room, where the Goofbashers are still sitting on the couches.

Mr. Flay:

Welcome back. So, um, I know we told you we were moving onto the next bit of programming. But we on the Scummies Steering Committee decided that what the viewers really want to see is more Goofbash, and totally not at all that we couldn't come up with any more filler on the spot and are just phoning this in. So we're going to run another vengeful! This time, let's hope for some competent scum.

Meanwhile, Katsuki has been ranting to everyone around him.

Katsuki:

I'm getting fed up with "Policy lynch Katsuki on day one because it'll always work out" every game. Flay, you can--

He is cut off by a loud CRASH.

???:

KATSUKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII YOU CHEEKY SCUMF[removed]

Katsuki starts in horror.

Mina:

Oh my God. I thought you'd locked the door, DGB.

DrippingGoofball:

They must have found a way in.

The camera cuts back from mith to show Faraday and Fate, who have suddenly appeared on the couch beside Katsuki.

Faraday:

Minaaaaaaaaaaaa, are you scum?

From the other side of the room, Mina watches, bemused, as Faraday continues to talk to a rather oblivious Fate, who's too busy shouting at Katsuki to notice being mistaken for a girl. Faraday starts poking Fate repeatedly in the rib cage.

Faraday:

Minaaaaaa, are you scum?

Kison presses a button and subtitles pop up-- not everyone in the crowd speaks drunken Irishman, and Kison needs to make sure this ceremony appeals to a wide audience.

Mina

: Um, Faraday? I'm over here.

Faraday:

Oh, look, there's Mina!

He waves to her.

Faraday:

Hiiiiiiiiiii!

Fate:

You're not even a girl, Katsuki. What sort of guy likes cupcakes? I thought you'd be a hot blonde, but you're

not

. Way to ruin all my fantasies.

An awkward silence descends, but is broken soon after as more familiar faces stream into the room. The newcomers are obviously very drunk, and very, very loud.

xRECKONERx:

I FINALLY MADE IT TO GOOFBASH. RECKONING AND GOOFBASH TOGETHER FOREVER, DGB.

Meanwhile, a rather drunk Nuwen goes over to DGB and hugs her with gusto.

Nuwen:

DEE GEE BEE! YOU ARE MY FAVORITE!

DGB reluctantly gets nearly squeezed to death by Nuwen. Suddenly, Mastermind of Sin appears with a giant boombox on his shoulder, looking like he just walked out of a DJ Jazzy Jeff video.

Mastermind of Sin:

Time to get the REAL party started!

MoS throws down the boombox and hits 'play'. "I'm Sexy And I Know It" begins to blare out across the room. MoS starts dancing, but he is soon joined by Fate, Faraday, Reck, Grimmjow, and several others. As they thrust their pelvises, a loud shatter is heard in the background. DGB turns to see a giant glass china cabinet on the floor. Gammagooey is laid out on top of it, covered in broken glass.

Gammagooey:

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOPS. MY BAD.

The drunken dancing suddenly becomes much more sexual as people begin hopping on each other. DGB bursts out in tears. Reck and Grimmjow run over to Katsuki and rip off their break-away pants to reveal manthongs. They proceed to party boy Katsuki, who begins dry heaving and scrambling to get away.

Katsuki:

Oh... god... no... please... stop...

Mina suddenly darts across the room in an attempt to get away from Faraday, who is stumbling after her like some kind of drunken ogre.

Faraday:

Miiiina. Are. You. Scum.

Patrick & CES slowly slip out the back door and make a break for freedom. dramonic attempts to run as well, but suddenly Fate jumps in front of him.

Fate:

DRAMONIC WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING, CHEEKY SCUMF[removed]

dramonic slowly backs to the center of the room, huddling in a frightened circle along with DGB, Minineko, chamber, Mina, Katsuki, Ether, SensFan, Blackberry, and Nikanor. The rest of the Reckoning group begins to close in on them as more windows shatter. Everyone begins to cry. Suddenly, a sloppy drunk Untrod Tripod stumbles up to the couch.

Untrod Tripod:

DGB, do you have a bathroom? I think I'm gonna pu--

His words catch up to him as Untrod Tripod gags a bit, then forcefully vomits. Just as the stream of spew is heading right for the Goofbash crew, there's a blinding white light. Nobody can see anything for awhile, but when the light dies down, someone stands in the center of the room: glowing, robed in white, with angel wings, stands none other than--

Mina:

Jesus Kise!

Kise throws his heavenly body in front of the vomit stream, reflecting it back at UT, who just slips in his own gross and falls to the floor. Kise turns his head to Mina.

Kise:

That's Chocolate Jesus, to you.

He turns to face the Goofbash group.

Kise:

I think I can deal with this.

Kise floats over to the boombox and picks it up, then floats towards the door.

Kise:

Hey, guys! Party's this way! Drinks on me!

At the sound of free drinks, all dozen or so Reckoning participants make a mad rush for the door. They swarm Kise and begin to haul him out of the house. DGB stands up, tears streaming down her face, and calls out for Kise.

DrippingGoofball:

Kise! No! You don't have to do this!

In his final moments, Kise calls back over the roar of LMFAO's "Party Rock Anthem".

Kise:

I... die... so that you... may live...

The hellish crowd drags Kise away and out of sight. The door slams behind them. There's a long moment of silence, before Katsuki finally stands.

Katsuki:

He has truly saved us all.

The group stares in awe as the cameras fade away.

[mith]

The intro music plays again as the next set of judges walk out on stage. DeasVail walks out in a very snazzy tuxedo, accompanied on one arm by Amrun and on the other by Andrius. Both of them sport glowing dresses by some rich, snobby Italian person. As they arrive, DeasVail takes the microphone.

DeasVail:

You may all be wondering exactly why I'm wearing a tuxedo, while Andrius here is wearing a silky dress.

Amrun:

You see, we wanted our awards block to be the classiest of the night. So, we called up Robert DeNiro, who is obviously the classiest mafia-related person in the world.

Amrun winks at someone in the crowd and mouths the words "It's True". Andrius struts up to the microphone, a bit embarrassed.

Andrius:

Mr. DeNiro told us there was a strict tuxedo-to-dress ratio to keep things classy... and... well... I drew the short straw.

Andrius takes a step back and reaches behind him, pulling the dress out of a wedgie in his asscrack. DeasVail adjusts his tuxedo and speaks in a deep, gentlemanly voice.

Andrius:

The winner of the

"Best Newbie" Award for Most Outstanding New Player

is...

Sir Bastion

!

---

Open 338: Jungle Republic StefanBversion

"He is, easily in the top half of most playerlists today for skill. Body of work is very strong for someone as new as him." - Rainbowdash

"For a VERY new player, he's fucking really strong." - Faraday

---

DeasVail:

What a magnificent win! Wouldn't you agree, Amrun?

Amrun:

Indeed, my dear! Andrius, don't you think he deserved it?

Andrius does his best to be classy. He sucks in his stomach as much as possible.

Andrius:

...quite.

Amrun smiles and saunters up to the podium, taking her turn as presenter.

Amrun:

This next award is a prestigious one indeed!

She opens the envelope.

Amrun

The winner of the

Award for Most Improved Player

is...

Andrius

!

---

Blackest Night Mafia

"It would not be a stretch to think those games were two completly different players. In Blackest Night he effectively used his role to detect multiple scum and despite pretty much claiming PR Day 1 he survived to the endgame. I think he's becoming a vastly underrated player." - MagnaofIllusion

---

Andrius is shocked. In all his excitement he jumps up and down and throws his arms in the air. Unfortunately, the dress cannot handle such movements and it completely tears at the seams. Andrius stands on stage, torn dress around his ankles, standing in nothing but his white-and-red polka dot boxers. He freezes and completely blushes, his face turning nearly as red as the polka dots. He clears his throat.

Andrius:

Erhem... um...

Amrun can't stop staring at Andrius.

Amrun:

Oh my... Andrius...

Seeing that Amrun is diverting attention away from him, DeasVail responds.

DeasVail:

Hey! Hey! I'm classy and sexy too! See!?

Now DeasVail rips his tuxedo apart, trying to get down to his knickers as well. He gets tangled up inside the sleeves of the tux, though, and winds up falling to the ground, stuck inside his own straight-jacket. Andrius shrugs and just walks up to the podium, half-naked, to give the final award.

Andrius

The winner of the

"Jedi Knight" Award for Best IC

is...

Thor665

!

---

Thor665

"Not only did he play excellent, the entire time he was writing down the reasons for his actions in the Mafia QT so the Newbies post game could learn from his play.

If that doesn't call for a nomination, I don't know what does." - Robocopter87

[mith]

The 2006 Scummies show up on the screen. In typical fashion, StevieT92 arrives on the scene, dislocated in time. He runs around a bit before his supertimephone rings. He picks up.

StevieT92:

AniX, hey. Yeah, I just got here. I can handle it, no problem, I'm just... worried. A little. I don't see any way for me to easily blend in unless I--

He is cut off as AniX rabbles on the other end.

Stevie92:

Alright... I think I've got it. Gotta run.

At that very moment, a black car pulls up to the Scummies. The door opens. 2006-mith steps out, followed by his entourage of minions. Rainbow Brite runs up to interview him.

Rainbow Brite:

Oh look! It's mith! Late as always. mith? I think we have time for one question if you don't mind.

mith:

A future minion! Excellent. What can I do for you?

Rainbow Brite:

I'm not so sure you want me as a minion... er... never mind. mith, what award presentation are you most looking forward to this year?

mith:

Award? There are awards? I'm just here to recruit some more minions.

As mith drones on talking to Rainbow Brite, StevieT92 sneaks around to the back of the crowd. With all of the attention focused on mith and Rainbow Brite, he is able to drag off one of mith's minions. Moments later, he has changed into the minion's disguise and slips back into the entourage. A shiny metal object can be seen in Stevie's hand -- some kind of shiv.

Rainbow Brite:

...I give up. Let's just go in.

mith heads through the doors and gets escorted backstage to a VIP area, minions in-tow. They arrive in their green room with a television set up. mith examines the room for a moment, then goes into a tantrum.

mith:

Damn! These incompetent fools! How am I to recruit more minions if they don't even have that new Guitar Hero game set up in my green room? I also demanded an Xbox 360 -- those things are so new and awesome.

As mith continues to make obvious references to fads from the 2005-2006 year, StevieT92 breaks off from the group and circles around behind him.

mith:

Ugh! This is a bigger fiasco than Janet and Justin at the Super Bowl last year!

Stevie steps closer to mith. He is unaware of Stevie drawing his blade. As the man goes up to strike the killing blow, one of the other minions throws back their hood. It's Tierce!

Tierce:

mith! Get down!

Startled, mith follows orders, narrowly dodging the incoming blade from Stevie. Panic erupts in the room as Tierce charges straight for Stevie. She goes to kick him, and he does this really cool Matrix-like backflip to get away. Tierce lunges forward and attempts to tackle Stevie, but he flips out of the way again. This time, though, he runs into the vanity mirror and knocks himself out cold. Tierce blinks a few times in disbelief.

Tierce:

Well... that was anti-climactic.

She quickly grabs Stevie by the arm and teleports them both back to 2012. mith blinks a few times in disbelief at what he's seen, before turning back to the group.

mith:

Minions! Go forth and find me a North Face Denali jacket, a pair of those awesome Crocs slippers...

The scene quickly cuts away before mith can drone on any more.

[mith]

[mith]

[mith]

Mr. Flay:

We've had a lot of fun tonight, but we would be remiss if we did not mention the recent tragedies. We all know where we were when it happened. I personally was taking a bath with my armada of rubber duckies while wearing wizard's robes made of bubbles. Admiral Splashworth and I were making plans to invade the Foam Continent when I felt a disturbance in the tubes... As if millions of posts suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced. I ran to my computer in the nude save for a foamy wizard's hat and saw that mafiascum had been invaded by tigers. I'm sure we all have our own personal stories of posts lost and so I would like us to take a moment and reflect on those posts that could not be with us today. Scores of games lost entirely and literally five or six worthwhile posts in Forum 62 ceased to be. Let us take a moment and remember the cost of letting our guard down to tigers. Constant vigilance.

Mr. Flay cries silently for about thirty seconds.

Mr. Flay:

Never forgive. Never forget. And now onto more awards!

[mith]

As the "hurry up and get on stage" music starts playing, SpyreX, Faraday, and xRECKONERx hustle out onto stage. Both Faraday and Reck are struggling to walk, clearly still intoxicated from the immense amounts of alcohol consumed earlier in the show. SpyreX gives the opening speech.

SpyreX:

Hello, ladies and germs! Thanks for your patience! We are finally at the FINAL awards block of the evening, so let's not waste any time!

He produces a group of envelopes, but before he can grab the first one, Faraday drunkenly jumps in front of him and snatches one. He rips it apart and opens it, leaning towards the microphone.

Faraday:

The winner of the

"Paragon of Mafia Hunters" Award for Best Mafia Catcher

is...

xRECKONERx

!

---

Fates Mafia

"There's no useful strategy to counter Reck in this game except to stay off his tunelling gun sights." - Kublai Khan

"If reck isn't the best player ever, you can kill me now" - TheLonging

---

Reck holds a hand to his chest in an extremely effeminate manner and begins fanning his tears away as Faraday gives him a big bro-hug. SpyreX just rolls his eyes and goes to grab the second envelope... but this time, Reck jumps in front of him and snatches it away to read it.

xRECKONERx:

The winner of the

"Don Corleone" Award for Most Cunning Manipulator

is...

Faraday

!

---

Mafia MetaMafia

"Faraday teaches a class every Wednesday night at 11 pm est on Skype. It's called 'Sexiness and Scum Tactics'. Be there." - Setael

"Just be careful, Faraday is outstanding as Town but truly masterful as scum" - Pine

---

Faraday begins leaping around in the air like some kind of wild baboon, shouting and screaming. Reck gives him a bro-five and the two begin to shout and yell together for their shared victory. SpyreX steps in front of them to try and maintain some kind of class, quickly opening the next envelope and reading it hastily.

SpyreX:

The winner of the

Best Performance Pro-Town Team

is...

animorpherv1, Hoppster, Iecerint, Katsuki, Mina, Parama, populartajo, UncertainKitten, xRECKONERx, and Zachrulez as the town of Psychic Mafia

!

---

Psychic Mafia

"Psychic cranked up the pressure on a smaller screwup and netted Ythill, of a perfect scum record, because of how he reacted to it. Even moreso, they not only managed to have strong personalities push against each other not delve into madness but they cleared swaths of town based on play early, early game. Thats a strong active town." - SpyreX

---

SpyreX watches Reck begin to cry like he had just won a million dollars. Faraday pulls him up off of the ground and begins to shout drunken words of wisdom at him, all of which just sounds like gibberish. SpyreX holds up his hands and puts the ceremony on pause.

SpyreX:

Now wait just one frickin' minute! Reck just so happens to give Faraday the award for Don Corleone, and Faraday just so happens to give Reck the award for Paragon? Then I open the next envelope and Reck wins again!?

Reck and Faraday just stare blankly at him.

SpyreX:

You two may want to act like you've had one too many Irish Carbombs, but I know you two. You're crafty bastards. You set all of this up, didn't you!? Sending AniX back in time, the drunken antics with DGB, the attempts on the lives of many people... this was all just one giant distraction so you two could switch your names in for winners of the big awards, ISN'T IT?

SpyreX begins to grow red with anger, so Faraday calmly steps up to the podium and pats SpyreX on the back. He grabs the next envelope and reads it aloud.

Faraday:

The winner of the

Best Performance Scum Group

is...

Thor665, SpyreX, vezopiraka, and Empking as the scum team of ASOIAF: Test of Faith

!

---

ASOIAF: Test of Faith

"The Mafia played a excellent game overall. The play of all four, the timing of the claims & the Thor\SpyreX minibus interaction throughout the game was great.

Overall, I think the faction that played the best won." - ooba

---

SpyreX's angry-red face suddenly becomes a sheepish grin of embarrassment. He holds his hands up and nods over towards Faraday and Reck as if to apologize. They're both too drunk to notice. Reck leans too far forward and just faceplants off of the stage and onto the hard concrete floor, shouting something about broken bones and blood. Faraday attempts to jump down and help him up, but winds up just busting his ass and injuring himself in a similar manner. Nobody notices either way. SpyreX, holding only one envelope now, opens it and reads it aloud.

SpyreX:

The winner of the

Award for Most Enjoyable Game

is...

AlamasterGM for DEFCON 2.0

!

---

DEFCON 2.0

"What an amazing game. I had so much fun, both alive and dead." - Percy

"Also, everything about this game was awesome Alm." - Jack

---

A polite round of applause on soundtrack goes up to congratulate the winners. SpyreX smiles politely into the camera, finally composing himself.

SpyreX:

Well... that's just about all for the show! We've got one last award to hand out, and none other than the man himself, mith, will be here to give it away! Right after this commercial break!

As the cameras begin to zoom out, it is obvious Faraday & Reck are being loaded onto stretchers to be hauled off to the hospital.

[mith]

Backstage, a half-furious, half-terrified Mr. Flay storms over to SpyreX.

Mr. Flay:

Why on earth did you promise them mith would be here?!? We don't know where he is! This is a disaster of epic proportions! What are we going to do?

SpyreX:

Hey, don't worry about! It'll be just fine... mith wouldn't skip out on an entire Scummies show, would he? It's like... his favorite thing or something.

Mr. Flay:

I thought

The Notebook

was his favorite thing.

SpyreX:

Well, second, then. Besides, what could possibly be more important than this?

As we cut to black, we catch a very brief glimpse of some shadowy - one might even say "mysterious" - figures lurking behind the two...

[mith]

[mith]

A long, long time ago (2009), at a Scummies far, far away, AniX is seen backstage in an undisclosed dark room. He looks around until he finds a small, shiny, metal box with a red LED display.

AniX:

This is it! Hehehe... At last, I'll settle this business with mith once and for all, with or without my unreliable supporters...

AniX finds a nearby box of tools and begins to tinker away with the box. After a few moments of overdramatic frenetic tinkering, he wipes the sweat away from his forehead and breathes a sigh of relief.

AniX:

Now to see if this works...

AniX flicks a couple of switches and a low, metallic hum comes to life. A small red LED on the top right hand corner of the box lights up as the whirr gets louder. Suddenly, the display flashes green, and after a quick crackle of static from the speaker, the machine speaks.

MafiaBot3000:

Hello, master.

AniX:

MafiaBot3000 - what is your directive?

MafiaBot3000:

To eliminate the one called 'mith'.

AniX smirks ear-to-ear.

AniX:

Excellent.

There's a clatter in the distance. AniX looks up and notices flashlight beams shining down the hallway. After shutting down MafiaBot3000, he quickly dives behind a stack of unassuming boxes in the corner of the dank room. Two men with flashlights appear and approach the hunk of metal.

[mith]

Scummer #1:

So, is this it?

Scummer #2:

I think so. Matches the description that mith gave us.

A name badge on the man’s chest identifies him as “Netopalis” – probably a pseudonym; Mafia players are fond of hiding their true identities. The other one is, apparently, “Yosarian2”. Netopalis is standing by a dressing table, staring at the box intently. Yosarian2 is sitting on the luxurious leather couch, scratching the stubble on his chin. He, too, seems transfixed by the machine, which stands in the centre of the available space, an unassuming, plastic, microwave sized device with an old speaker plugged into a hole on the back and an LCD display on the front. In all other respects, it is simply a black box.

Netopalis:

I suppose we turn it on, now? How do you do that, anyway?”

At this, the machine beeps and whirs to life.

MafiaBot3000:

Hello, gentlemen. I am MafiaBot3000.

As it speaks, it’s tone vaguely melodic and of indeterminate gender, the words flash across the LCD display before vanishing again. The two men, Yosarian2 having vacated his couch, are standing tensely alert and staring with wide eyes at the machine in front of them.

MafiaBot3000:

I am perfection. The final, end product of ten years of experimentation into mafia skills and algorithms, of data collected from a thousand games from the best and the brightest of the mafia playing community. I can detect a liar with 97% accuracy, can calculate the probability of a player being mafia to twenty three significant figures, come equipped with the latest in scumdar technology and am myself completely unreadable. And now, I am here, to replace you.

The machine stops as if to gather its thoughts while the two men gape at it as they try to understand exactly what is going on. It is Netopalis who reacts first, finally parsing his way to the end of MafiaBot’s speech.

Netopalis:

Wait, replace us? mith wants to replace us?!

MafiaBot3000:

mith? Oh, no. mith may have started my creation in motion, but... no, mith has no more idea of what’s coming than you do. He, too, will die.

Netopalis barely has time to glance at Yosarian2 before both collapse on the floor.

[mith]

Brandi:

RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!

The group of scummers in the waiting room spectacularly fail to pay any attention to the panicked screaming of the young woman accosting them. One looks up from his cards.

Shanba:

First day here?

Blinking in astonishment, she shakes her head then turns to run. SpyreX pushes some chips around idly on the table, then shoves his stack forwards a few inches.

SpyreX:

All in.

At that moment, a spider wielding a lightsaber bursts through the ceiling. It is duelling with a cloaked man whose face is covered with a flashing mask. One of the players at the table nods and waves.

JDodge:

Hi Kison.

The two exit through the front door, lightsabers still flashing rapidly.

Some more time passes. All of a sudden, the side of the room begins to whirr and pulse, and a blue police box can be seen pulsing in and out of vision, slowly gaining in opacity as it finishes travelling across the dark depths of time and space. The Doctor bursts out, spins once on his heel and then runs through the nearest door. A short while later he backs out through the same door, MafiaBot3000 facing him with a laser pistol. He has a small, alien looking device pointed at the beast.

The Doctor:

Stay back. Do you know who I am?!

MafiaBot3000:

You're the Doctor.

The bot swings 'round and fires a shot at the TARDIS, which whines, quivers and then disappears into itself.

The Doctor:

Geronimo?

The Doctor turns to run, but is quickly gunned down. Whistling nonchalantly, AniX steps over to The Doctor's not-yet-regenerating body, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a sonic screwdriver. Smiling triumphantly, he breaks it in half with his bare hands.

[mith]

MafiaBot3000 begins to morph. It grows arms and legs and marches out of the room and out to the main show.

AniX:

At long last! Our glorious plan will be set into motion when mith is eliminated! I will be witness to our great victory!

AniX darts out to the main stage after a few moments to watch mith's demise with his own eyes. AniX hides behind the stage curtain as mith finishes up his speech.

mith:

For once, it looks like we've made it through a ceremony without too many casualties, so I guess I'd better sign off before...

MafiaBot3000 storms out onto stage and begins to grow until he is two times the size of a normal man. MB3K stomps over to mith and extends an arm, clamping it around mith's throat and choking the life out of him. AniX's grin grows wider, wider, wider as mith's eyes flutter shut. He jumps in the air at mith's imminent demise and shouts:

AniX:

At long last! We will finally end the reign of the dictat--

Suddenly, there's a ripple in the space-time continuum, and a loud sound, as a blue police box begins to materialize just off stage. After a few brief moments, Feysal comes tumbling out of the door to the TARDIS. AniX sees him arrive and jumps to stop him, but Feysal ducks and rolls towards the stage. Out on the stage, petroleumjelly and charter have rushed the stage to save mith. Feysal pulls something out of his pocket.

AniX:

No! That's the--

Feysal:

--sonic screwdriver! You know it, [removed]!

AniX:

But... how?

Feysal:

Well, it's a fascinating, amazing, incredible story...

[mith]

Feysal begins flashing back to...

[mith]

Feysal:

Hey, wait a minute! You're just trying to distract me from my mission!

AniX:

Darn. I was sure that would work...

AniX tackles Feysal to the floor, grabbing his feet and holding him still. Unable to make it out to the stage himself, Feysal does his best to toss the sonic screwdriver all the way out to the main stage.

Luckily, charter picks it up in the nick of time and turns to blast MafiaBot3000. mith falls to the ground, gasping for air. AniX slams his fists on the ground and shouts.

AniX:

No! Dammit! So close!

Feysal turns back to AniX and approaches to apprehend him. AniX backs away, lighting up as if realizing that his opportunities to disrupt the timeline in his favor are limitless. He continues backing toward his own time machine until he runs into something unexpected. Turning around, he sees Tierce with her arms crossed. AniX looks for escape to the left and right, but Voidedmafia and Haylen block his away as well.

Feysal:

You're coming with us.

AniX:

But... I'm Lord 11th Hour! I can't be stopped so easily!

Feysal:

Pretty sure you can.

AniX:

Can't.

Feysal:

Can so.

AniX:

No!

Feysal:

There's no use acting like a baby about it. If it's any consolation, you almost had me with that flashback talk.

AniX:

Really? You mean it?

Feysal:

No, I'm just saying it to be nice.

AniX:

Oh. Well, it's the thought that counts.

Resigned to his fate, AniX allows himself to be led to the TARDIS... but not the one that just appeared.

AniX:

Didn't you come in that other one?

Tierce:

It'll make sense it a minute. Wibbly wobbly timey wimey, or something.

[mith]

Back at the 2012 Scummies, Feysal, Tierce, Voidedmafia, and Haylen are working tirelessly backstage to restore power to the fragile structure cobbled together from the explosion. Tierce is getting sleepy, but he continues plodding away at the data, until suddenly he sees something and is forced to stop and stand up in fear.

Tierce:

Hey, uh, guys? I just noticed something. There's a disturbance in the timeline...

Haylen:

A what?

Tierce:

You know how all the posts on the forum have timestamps?

Voidedmafia:

Yeah? So what?

Tierce:

One of them is

wrong

.

The other three gasp, loudly and dramatically. Their gasps tail off neatly into the sound of an appearing TARDIS. Their future-selves step out.

Present-Tierce:

Huh. Well, I hope this

obvious and blatant disregard for time travel protocol

isn't the cause.

Future-Feysal:

Don't worry, there's no paradox here. At least, as long as you follow our directions. Now, you'll need to take this TARDIS, and...

[mith]

Back on stage, Mr. Flay is still looking up at the big screen, watching this confusing resolution with a mostly dissatisfied audience. Flay himself finally seems pleased with things, however. Turning back to the microphone, he addresses them...

Mr. Flay:

It looks like everything is just about wrapped up here! No unresolved plot threads, all the awards have been given out...

[Unknown Voice That Hasn't Been Heard Since Before The Show Began]:

Not so fast, Mr. Flay... I believe I know of some... unfinished business...

The lights go out, except for a single spotlight which points to a balcony wear two mysterious figures are holding knives to the throat of a blindfolded JDodge.

[Other Unknown Voice]:

The people are always right...

Simultaneously, they slit JDodge's throat. Blood squirts out everywhere, splattering faces of the onlooking crowd below, who start to scream.

[UVTHBHSBTSB, Except For A Few Seconds Ago]:

We have been ignored for too long. Now, it is time...

[Other Unknown Voice]:

Time for what?

[UVTHBHSBTSEFAFSA, And The Time Before That]:

You know. Our evil plan.

[Other Unknown Voice]:

Oh. That.

They each reach inside their hooded cloaks to brandish a small box with a key, already inserted. They reach to turn the keys simultaneously... but are interrupted by a loud growl. The spotlight goes dark momentarily, as one of the voices screams, then the other. When the lights in the auditorium finally return, the crowd is astonished to find that the figures have vanished, leaving behind a majestic tiger, standing on the edge of the balcony with blood dripping from his mouth.

Mr. Flay:

Oh, gods...

The tiger leaps down to the ground floor aisle, and stalks up to the stage, Mr. Flay looking more and more terrified with each step. As the tiger leaps up onto the stage, the quite voice of a child says:

[Child]:

It's ok, mister, he won't hurt you.

Mr. Flay turns and discovers that he is being addressed by someone he has never met, but has only seen in one old, black-and-white photograph...

Mr. Flay:

...mith? Is it really you?

Eight-year-old mith:

Who's mith?

Mr. Flay:

Oh, er, right. Never mind. But... how? Why?

AniX:

It's a funny story...

Feysal and crew rush onto the stage...

Feysal:

I don't know how you got away, but you won't succeed this time either, AniX!

[Off-stage voice]:

Uh, guys? I'm still back here... Can you untie me now?

Feysal looks back in the direction he came, then back to the young mith and... oh.

mith:

This weird guy from the future came to visit me... twice. The first time, um, well, I don't really want to talk about. But the second time, he stopped a tiger from attacking me. Told both of us that there were bigger fish to fry. And then we all came here. Even this other guy calling himself "xyzzy", whatever that means.

Nothing happens.

mith:

So here we are. Saving the day, I guess. Oh, and I found this.

He hands the

"Name Should Be In Orange" Award

to

Feysal, Tierce, Voidedmafia, Haylen, and everyone else who helped out during the post-crash recovery effort

.

mith:

Someone told me you guys did a really got job save the site.

AniX:

I wasn't about to let some other group take over mafiascum, that's the destiny of the Eleventh Hour! Besides, the kid is kinda adorable.

mith:

You are so weird. Can I go home now?

The visitors from another time walk off-stage together, as Flay is joined by Kison at the podium.

Mr. Flay:

This show makes even less sense than usual. Oh well. At least everything is wrapped up in a nice, neat bow now. JDodge was finally killed, the mysterious fifth group was defeated...

Kison:

Yeah, I wonder who those guys were. I mean, we never found that out. Or what they were after. Or anything, really.

The crushing reality of the total lack of closure lands on Flay like a ton of bricks, and he crumples to his knees, raises his fists to the sky, and shouts:

Mr. Flay:

NOOOOOOOOOOO...

Fade to black...

[mith]

In an unknown, darkened room, there is total silence apart from the peck-peck-pecking of someone typing who never learned how to type correctly. The only light in the room is the dim glow of an old computer monitor. The figure typing is nearly unrecognizable, and clearly hasn't shaved - or bathed, for that matter - in weeks.

The typing finally stops, and the man at the computer lets out an exhausted sigh. He reaches for the mouse, clicks a few times, then stands and stretches as the printer comes to life.

mith:

Finally!

He looks at himself in the mirror, frowns, and heads off to the bathroom to tidy himself up while the printing continues. For several minutes, nothing is heard by the running water, the whirring pages, and the theme song from "The Notebook" as performed by a master whistler.

Eventually, the sound of the water is no longer heard, and a few minutes later and clean-shaven and smartly dressed mith emerges from the bathroom. The printer has stopped, and as he lifts the printed pages he sees that the printing is not complete, but instead he has run out of paper. He sets down the pages and digs through a cabinet to find a fresh unopened stash of 500 brilliant white pages, then resumes printing.

After several more minutes of bored silence, the printer stops again, this time finally complete. mith gathers all the pages together, lightly lifts them up and down as if checking the weight of the massive stack, and smiles. He grabs an already-packed suitcase, and heads to the door.

mith:

This is the greatest thing I have ever written... I can't wait until this year's...

He opens the door and is hit by a thick sheet of 95 degree air. Instinctively, he shields his eyes from the cruel Texas sun with the stack of paper and tentatively steps outside, already starting to sweat.

mith:

...Scummies show.

He looks around and sighs.

mith:

Fuck, what month is it?