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"Gliderman: The Prequel"

Agent Thermal

Jun 18, 2004
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Agent Thermal and Démon present:

In association with Garble Comics...​



Who am I? You sure you wanna know? You SURE you wanna know? Are you REALLY REALLY REALLY SUPER SURE you wanna know? I mean, I don't have to tell it, you know; it's okay, really. Oh, you ARE really sure? You're SURE, now? Well, okay...but I'm gonna warn ya - my story is not for those with weak constitutions or stomachs. This story doesn't exactly contain the happiness equivalent of a Barney marathon. If somebody were to tell you that I was just some nerdy kid who never had anything go right for him except for miraculously obtaining the physical prowess and abilities of a sugar glider...well, that somebody was telling the truth - how he figured that out, though, is beyond me.

But don't worry - this story is really all about a girl...well, it's actually about WAY more than that, but it somewhat revolves around a girl...and that girl is Jerri Mayne Holmes: the woman I loved even before her grandmother was born. Man, I'd love to tell you that that was me sitting next to her - Blur Stompson once again being a consistant jerk. Heck, I'd even take that overweight, gaseous, cinnamon-roll-stuffing pig sitting in front of her, making her think twice about sitting behind him. But no.

"Hey, Peker! Shut up with your stupid monologue and get on the bus!!!" yelled the bus driver, waiting impatiently for Parter to go up the steps - they'd been waiting the entire duration of the mental rambling.

That's me.

Parter Peker slowly and meekly made his way up the steps and onto the bus, nervously looking across at the sea of teenage faces that stared back at him strangely. With a sad sigh, Parter trudged down the aisle, looking hopefully but pointlessly for any seats. A relentless barrage of paper airplanes and spitballs pelted him mercilessly as he searched for an empty seat or at least a seat that no one would shove him out of. Teenage and bus driver laughs droned on throughout the interior of the bus as they made his seat-searching quest as humanly impossible as possible.

Suddenly, he spotted an empty-but-gum-covered bus seat, two rows from the back, on the left. It was the best thing he could hope for, considering that he was by far the nerdiest character in the school the bus was heading for. Parter triumphantly stepped lightly over the multitude of legs purposely stuck out in the aisle to trip him, making his way slowly-but-surely toward the empty seat.

He sighed happily as he sat down - and groaned in embarrassment as his butt slowly and uncontrollably pushed down a camouflaged whoopie cushion that had strategically been placed there.

Once again, the bus and the bus driver laughed uproariously. Parter sighed yet again as the bus pulled into the school's parking lot. The only thing Parter Peker knew he could look forward to today was A)futile gazing at JM, and B)the field trip to "OzzyInc" with Mr. "I-Jest-You-Not".
(Thanks a lot, Supermaniac! :D That's greatly appreciated! Démon should be adding to this shortly.:))
I want to have Gliderman's marsupial offspring...
Now, do you cook those things, or just pop 'em in your mouth raw, like sushi?
They taste like sugar, right? Blood sugar?
The bus pulled up to "OzzyInc" and Parter was one of the last students to disembark.

"Hey, Part!" called someone behind Parter.
"Hiya, Larry." answered Parter. Larry Ozzybourne ran to catch up. Larry Ozzybourne was Parter's only friend in the school, and his father was Truman Ozzybourne, head of "OzzyInc".
"So, welcome to OzzyInc! Dad's dying to meet you. You and he should get along well, you're both reclusive nerds." Larry grinned.
"Hey, Larry!" Both Parter and Larry looked up. Truman Ozzybourne was walking down the stairs towards them. Like Larry, Truman's haircut seriously resembled a brillo pad.
"Dad, this is Parter Peker. You know, the stereotypical smart kid with only one friend I was telling you about?"

Truman smiled and offered his hand for Parter to shake. Parter took it, trying to make as firm a handshake as he could with his girlish hands.
"Parter, I heard so much about you. You know, I'm something of a nerd myself."
"I know. I've read all of your papers, very nerdy."
"And you understood them?" asked Truman, evidently impressed.
"Yes, I wrote a paper on your theories for school."
"Amazing. Well, I best be back to work." said Truman, giving his son a hug. "Tuck in your shirt, Larry."
"Daaaa-add..." muttered Larry in embarassment. Nearby students were pointing and laughing openly. Parter turned to hide his grin.
"Parter, Ozzybourne! Let's move!" called their teacher from the stairs. The two friends proceeded up the staircase and into the building.

The tour comprised of walking around inside a large laboratory while the woman guiding them explained some of the more boring aspects of their research.
"And here, we are performing sophisticated genetic engineering that might eventually lead to the development of flavourless sugar. Over here, we have been creating a chemical that increases plant growth by a whole .015%." the guide droned.
Parter pointed out a large translucent, cylindrical structure in the middle of the room. "Did you know that that is the biggest test tube in the eastern United States?"
"Parter, what makes you think I want to know about that?" murmured Larry.
"Good question. Who would?"

They stopped in front of a glass wall showing experimentation in another room. "This is a top-secret, ultra hush-hush project we've been working on for the military. It may either lead to the ultimate super soldier, or a possible maniacal super-villain."
Inside the room, a man was smashing into walls, riding on what appeared to be an out-of-control hover scooter.
"Of course, there are a few bugs to be fixed with some of the equipment in there."
The man's screams of pain were audible through the glass as he crashed through a desk and began zooming involuntarily after terrified lab technicians.
Parter held up his camera. "For the school paper?" The guide woman, despite having just explained how top secret this project was, and the fact that the project was experiencing difficulties, nodded in approval. Just when he pressed the button, somebody pushed him, misdirecting the camera as the flash went off.
Larry glared at the guy. "Leave him alone."
The guy smirked. "Or what?"
"Or his father will run away terrified from your father!" laughed Blur Stompson.
"So what if he will?"
"Hey!" interjected their teacher. "The next person who talks will have to write lines, I jest you not. Come on." The teacher led Larry and Parter away from the stereotypical bullies.
"Let's move on then." said the guide. The man inside the room was thrown off his scooter and slammed into the glass wall; sliding down it with a squealing noise. The scooter, however, was still wreaking mayhem as the students continued on the tour.
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"Blah blah blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah, uh...blah blah blah..." the guide droned on, now realizing that neither the students, the I-Jest-You-Not guy, nor herself were actually listening to her. That is, except for the now-annoyed Parter, who was actually interested in what was going on in his friend's father's factory.

Just then, he caught a glimpse of the girl he'd been trying to get a glimpse of all morning - Jerri Mayne, who was once again being dogged by Blur Stompson. She laughed mirthfully as he told her in excruitiating detail about all the nerds he was going to beat up in the janitor's closet once they got back to school.

"So, you gonna talk to her?" asked Larry tauntingly to Parter.

"Who, me? Nah..." answered Parter.

"Why not?"

"Well, I'm a nerd, she's not, and, well, you know how that goes..."

"Aw, Part, you gotta realize - you may not have THAT much of a chance if you DO talk to her, but you'll NEVER have a chance if you NEVER talk to her!"

"Hey, you're right! But Blur's there..."

"So? The security guards know me! I'll just call 'em and tell them that I saw him messing with the 'Operation Gr-', uh, I mean, the top-secret stuff my dad and Mr. Strumm are working on..."


So, with that, Larry whipped out his cell-phone and dialed the hotline for the OzzyInc security...and in no time at all, Blur Stompson was forcefully escorted out of the laboratory and back into the school bus, the fellow students and Mr. I-Jest-You-Not laughing the entire time.

"Okay, now go!" urged Larry.

"Uh...what do I say?" asked Parter, clearly nervous.

"You say 'Hi, I'm Parter, nice to meet ya. And you are?' See, nothing to it!"

"Yeah, but everyone knows her name already...it'll sound stupid..."

"Ugh, forget it - watch and learnnnnn..." said Larry as he approached the still-bewildered-from-the-security-episode JM.

"Hi, I'm Larry..." said Larry nonchalantly to JM.

"Uh....hi..." said JM, clearly uninterested.

"Hey, uh, did you know that that test tube back there is the largest on the western seaboard?"

Parter fumed. It's 'eastern,' you dummy. We're in Washington, D.C.

"Uh, no, I didn't..." said JM, becoming more and more bored and confused by the second.

"Well, uh, did you know that, uh...MY DAD IS WORKING ON A TOP-SECRET FORMULA THAT WILL EVENTUALLY TURN SOMEBODY INTO A MANIACAL AND SUPER-POWERFUL VILLAIN!?" blurted out Larry, desperate for a positive response from JM.

"Gee...that's, uh, great..." said JM as she walked off to join her girlfriends who were pointing and giggling at two nearby hunky scientists.

"AAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!!" yelled Larry. "I GIVE UP! YOU try something, Parter..."

"Well, I guess the thing here would be to-" began Parter. As he attempted to finish his sentence, however, his cell-phone rang.

"Yeah?" asked Parter into the phone.


"Mr. Jingleheimerschmidt! It's you! I thought you'd never return my calls about my application!"


"Well, sir, I'd be happy to provide my photography skills for your comp-"


"Wait, Australia? What for?"


"Well, actually -"


"6 minutes? How am I -"

JJJ hung up.

Parter just stared blankly into space for a while, absorbing the situation - he really needed the money, and this was the first actual job offer he'd received...

"Uh, Larry, I gotta go - I gotta go to Australia over the weekend..."

"Wow - Australia? Why?"

"I work for International Topographic now, and-"

"You mean International Topographic? The World's Leading Nature Magazine? My dad has a lifetime subscription to that!"

"Yes, Larry, that one. Anyway, I gotta go take pictures of some sugar gliders in the rainforest there, and I have to be at the airport in about 5 minutes..."

"How are you going to pack your bags and get to the airport in 5 minutes, when your house is at the other end of the school district?"

"I'll just have to do the best I can...see ya later..."

"Bye, Part!" shouted Larry, waving his friend goodbye.

Parter waded through the sea of security guards as he made his way through the giant exit in the back of the building.

Hey, I bet I could introduce JM and her friends to those scientists...heh heh...thought Larry mischeivously, keeping a huge, disturbing grin on his face to Parter as he slowly backed toward the group.
Later in the day, after the students left, an entirely different group arrived at OzzyInc...

Wendel Strumm led the OzzyInc Board of Directors and General Hokum - representative of the U.S. Army, the source of funding behind the project - through the large laboratory dedicated entirely to "Operation: Gray Stuff", a project intended to create some gray-colored glop to feed to soldiers in order to make them super-powerful. Strumm was the top scientist in OzzyInc, and therefore better acquainted with Truman Ozzybourne than anyone else who worked there.

Strumm stopped the group in front of a man who was attempting to land the hover scooter that was witnessed going on a rampage by Parter's science class hours earlier. The scooter was well equipped for the manliness of the military; it was painted purple, had a flowery handbasket on the front, and upon the handlebars was placed a little bell and some rainbow-themed streamers on the grips. A vehicle that would strike fear into the hearts of the enemy.
"We've solved the problem with the horizon glide...turns out that we forgot to install any sort of braking mechanisms. We're also working on the multi-G balance issues-" Wendel explained before being cut off by the General.
"I've already seen the scooter! What's the status on the gray stuff?"
But before Wendel could answer, Truman walked into the room wearing a pinstriped suit with an oversized flower sticking out of the front pocket. The surrounding staff groaned and hid their faces in embarassment.
"General Hokum! So good to see you again. And it's always inconvenient when our Board of Directors pays us a little visit." Truman smiled at the group. Hokum was less than cheerful, and the Board of Directors frowned when they realized what Truman said.
"Hello, Mr. Ozzybourne. Quite an interesting choice of...attire..." said the General. "Dr. Strumm was just about to give us a status report on the gray stuff."
"Well, we have discovered a 0.5% increase in the strength of our subjects, but one of the experiments had, um, some side effects..." Wendel said.
"Side effects?" questioned the General.
"Yes. Convulsions, drooling, spasms ...oh, and insanity, not that it matters." Wendel said, before Truman intervened by bumping him to the side and onto a table laden with test tubes. Shattering glass and swearing could be heard as Wendel hit the tabletop.
"That was only one trial. All the experiments since then have been successful, and with the exception of Dr. Strumm," Truman indicated Wendel struggling to straighten the test tubes, "our entire staff certifies the gray stuff as ready for testing." At this, Truman put on the creepy smile that you would expect from a used car salesman.
"...Dr. Strumm?" Hokum turned to the scientist, who accidentally dropped a test tube and smashed it.
"We need to take the whole line back to the drawing board." Wendel answered. The General sighed. Truman took Wendel to the side.
"Back to the drawing board?! Couldn't you have said something less cliché, such as 'formula'?"
"Mr. Ozzybourne." Truman turned to face the General. "I need to be Frank with you, and you can be Ted. I never supported your operation, despite the very good show I've been putting on to make it seem like I did. You have my predecessor to thank for this mess. 'Best Aerospace' will be performing their initial run in two weeks, and if you haven't had a successful trial by then, I'm going to pull your funding. And I'm going to give it to them." The General indicated a small group of beggers outside the window.
"Come along, General." said one of the Board members, and they left the room. Truman stood still, and the flower in his front pocket wilted in a humorous manner.

Meanwhile, in Australia...
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"Stupid flies! Stupid ticks! Stupid rash-inducing plants!!!" yelled Parter systematically as he trekked wearily through the rugged rainforest of Australia...it didn't cover too much of the continent, but it did cover just enough to house many unique species of fauna...including some of the most annoying insects on the face of the planet. They flew in his ears, up his nose, down his tear-duct tubes, and even into his camera, which was fortunately built to be fly-proof.

After slapping away a multitude of intruding poisonous leaves, he finally came upon a clearing - a clearing which he'd been traveling toward for over half of the day. With a defeated sigh/groan, Parter slumped to the leech-covered ground and began to empty his backpack, only to find that the flies had bored into his canteen, emptying all the water within and subsequently spoiling his food.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! I HATE AUSTRALIA!!!!" yelled Parter in unparalleled agitation. With disgust, he threw his backpack to his right - it struck a rotted stump, which unfortunately contained a nest of now-even-more-agitated wasps.


After treating his sting-wounds with the poisonous leaves, which actually provided relief compared to the pain of the stings, Parter decided to walk around more to locate some sugar gliders - because the sooner he found them and photographed them, the sooner he could leave. They were becoming rather difficult to locate, though.

Good thing JJJ's paying me by the wound, and not by commission... bemoaned Parter.

Meanwhile, at a local nuclear power plant, in a coolant room not too far away...

"Oi Jeff...ye evah get tha manuel oi senchah?"

"Whot manuel, moit?"

"Yew knaow...the nucleah powah pleeyant operoition manuel? Didje get it?"

"Aow, yew mean THET one theah?" said Jeff, pointing to the brown, white, and blue FedUp box laying to his side, still unopened.

"YEW MEAN YEW DIDN' OWPEN ET?" screamed Paul, Jeff's supervisor.

"Well, oi figyahd sence ya hoi-ahd moi, theyat yew figyahd oi knew whot oi waz doin'!!"


"Well, oi figyahd thet as long as oi knew not to press tha red bahtton heah, that oll would be foin..."


With that, Jeff, Paul, and the rest of the power plant's employees ran for their bloomin' lives as the core reactor began to overheat...

Back at the clearing...

Found ya at last...thought Parter as he brought his camera up to photograph a fruit-nibbling sugar glider that was eyeing him strangely...




"Sir, I'm trying to take pictures of wildlife here...please get out of the way..." moaned Parter...he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

"Sorry man..." said the strange Texan man, walking slowly away and into the forest from the newly-materialized kitchen that had been there for a split second.

"Finally..." whispered Parter.

He then spotted a conveniently located sugar glider right above his head, once more nibbling on fruit innocently. Just as Parter raised his camera to his face in order to take the picture...


The trememdous explosion sent Parter reeling and the gliders crazy, causing Parter to accidentally snap this picture:


The glider, amidst the confusion and animal frenziness, bit Parter harshly on the nose as it landed on his face, causing him to yell muffled-ly in pain as he fell backwards, hitting his head on the stump he'd irritated earlier. The impact knocked him out, preventing him from fleeing from the rapidly spreading radiation that enveloped the forest...and his sugar glider bite mark.

Later that evening, at the Sydney Hospital...

"This goi heah is lucky to be aloive..." said Dr. Hogan, shaking his head in bewilderment at his patient's miraculously healthy state.

"I'm right here - you can talk to me, you know..." moaned Parter in his hospital bed.

"Sorry, moit - still can't believe yoh not dead theah!" laughed Dr. Hogan good-naturedly.

"Why is that?" asked a confused Parter.

"Well, funny yew should ask theeyat...ya see, yew suffuhd a direct radiation blast woil yew weh unconscious theah..."

"Radiation blast? That must have been the explosion that drove those sugar gliders crazy!"

"Roit. And if it wasn't foh this koind bloak heah, we nevah would've found ya woi out theah in the forest, moit!" explained Dr. Hogan, pointing to the strange photo-ruining-but-life-saving Texan man, who was laying in the next hospital bed and slowly turning into a gnat-themed super-villain due to the gnat bites mixed with the radiation HE'D received.

"Well, if I'm not dead yet, what IS my state, Doc?"

"Theeyat's an interesting question theeyah...from whot moi repohts tell me, yew've got enhanced strength, smell, speed, sight, hearing, and yew've developed some weeyad flaps of skeeyen undah youh ahmpits..."

"WHAT?" shouted Parter in horror.

"Oi think yew've got Gloidah-noitis, moit...a reyah disease that moiks the victim suffah extreme sugah-gloidah-loik symptoms, including the ones yew've got theah, moit. It only comes from the intoik of sugah gloidah saliva and nucleah radiation...and oi think you've gotton both of those..."

"Glider-nitis? Is it fatal?"

"Naope! It's actually quoite beneficial - it'll make it so yew ah physically loik a sugah gloidah, only as a human. Yew'll be able to gloid and run loik nevah befoah, and yoah senses'll be enhanced to levels unhuhd of, moit! The only real bad thing it MOIT do is moik it so that yew want fruit all the bloomin' toim...othah then theeyat, yew should be foin!"


"Shuah! We'll get the medication roit away..."

"NO, NO, it's okay..." said Parter, waving Dr. Hogan back. "Uh, my insurance doesn't cover...uh...glider-nitis..."

"Oh, well, uh...oi guess we'll just send ya back home to ya Ont June and Uncle Ken, then!"

"Sounds good to me!!! Hey, did you save my camera?"

"Oim afroid it didn't make it through the radiation, moit..." said Dr. Hogan sadly, wiping away a tear.

Parter started crying too...but for a totally different reason.

Meanwhile, back at OzzyInc...
Truman strode into the laboratory in which "Operation: Gray Stuff" was contained, followed by a stuttering and nervous Wendel Strumm. The lab was empty; everybody else was home eating dinner with their families.

"Truman, no, we can't do this! Don't you realize the dangerous potential of this absurd decision you've made?!" Strumm was saying.

"Don't be a coward, Dr. Strumm." Truman replied. "Risks are a part of laboratory science. Mind you, the things usually at risk aren't human beings, but you get the gist."

"I don't get the gist, Truman! Come on, if you just give us two weeks..."

"Two weeks? In two weeks, we'll have lost the contract to Best, and those bums out there will be fed." Truman thumbed over his shoulder at the window, where the homeless people stared with their faces pressed against the glass. "Oh, and OzzyInc might go belly-up..."


"Hand me the Pepto-Bismol."


"Because it prevents all sorts of symptoms when ingested." Truman explained, trying to demonstrate his scientific prowess. "Nausea, heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach, diarrhea...HEY, Pepto-Bismol!" he sang, dancing in a way that would make Ricky Martin cry.

Strumm just shook his head to himself and handed Truman the pink bottle.
" 'Thirty thousand years of evolution, and we've barely tapped the vastness of human potential'." muttered Truman, taking a large swig and then chucking the bottle to the side. Catching the awed look on Strumm's face, he decided to clarify what he just said, "Read it on a sugar packet."

Truman walked into a large glass structure in the middle of the room and closed the door behind him. Strumm typed something in on his computer and glanced back at Truman.

A loud, booming voice said the word "UH-OH!" and a large man dressed entirely in black appeared out of nowhere and tipped a bucket full of gray slime over the edge of the glass structure and onto Truman's body below. Truman had insisted they take a game show approach to the experiment.

When the gray glop hit Truman, it sizzled on his skin and he began yelling. Strumm watched in terror as his boss ran around the glass compartment, screaming like the Tazmanian Devil as the gray slime continued to burn. The scientist covered his eyes and ducked for cover under the table, waiting for the screams to end. With a echoing "thunk!", they did. Strumm peered over the table and saw Truman lying on the floor after running face first into the solid glass wall, gray stuff grafted onto his skin.

"TRUMAN!" cried Strumm, running into the glass compartment. "Oh, God!" Truman's heart ceased beating, and his friend attempted to revive him by punching him in the chest. It just caused bruising. Then suddenly, a beeping noise came from one of the monitors, which was kind of odd, considering that Truman's heart rate wasn't being measured by the computers. Something caught Strumm tightly around the throat. He looked down to see the insane and furious face of the man-he-presumed-was-dead-but-really-wasn't.

"Back to the drawing board? That was LAME!" and with an angry yell, Truman threw Strumm right through the glass with his newfound strength. He jumped to the edge of the broken glass wall, and hissing, leaped towards the fallen scientist. Naturally, he missed, and flew headfirst into the floor. But once he got up, he advanced towards his cowering employee.

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"Honey!!! It's so good to have you back! Did you enjoy your trip?" asked Aunt June good-naturedly as Parter walked into the door of his aunt and uncles' apartment. He walked in with his arms straight down his sides, stiff as a board, so that the underarm-flaps wouldn't bulge out of his shirt.

"Oh, yeah, it was great...uh, I wanna go lie down now..." hurried Parter as he quickly made his way up the stairs, not even pausing to say "hello."

"But Parter, honey, we missed you!" called Aunt June after the curiously-stiff teen hurried into his room and slammed the door.

"Ah, let him go, June..." said Parter's Uncle Ken as he was finally installing their smoke detector for the first time. "He's not your little boy anymore, ya know."

"He can still say 'hello' once and a while!" yelled June to Ken AND Parter in a distraught manner.

"Annnnndddd...voila! And God said: 'Let there be two old people who finally decide to abide by the law!'" yelled Ken in triumph as he finished the final screw on his smoke detector.

"Well, now all ya gotta do is get a job!" said June back.

Up in Parter's room...

The stereo blared as Parter sang along and flexed his newfound muscles narcissisticly in front of the mirror.

"I'm - too sexy for my shirt; too sexy for my shirt...
So sexy it huuuuuuurts...
And I'm - too sexy for Milan; too sexy for Milan
New York and Japaaaaaan..."

MAN I'm buff...thought Parter. Wait 'till JM gets a load of THIS!

However, despite his current un-nerdiness, he couldn't help but notice the huge flaps of skin that had formed from right below his wrist to his thigh. It wasn't so tight so as to make it impossible to wear a shirt and pants, but he would have to wear long-sleeve shirts for the rest of his life if he didn't want anyone else to find out about this.

Suddenly his phone rang, rudely interrupting Parter's ego-trip. He paused the Right Said Fred CD and picked up the receiver.

"Yeah?" said Parter smoothly.

"PEKER! THAT YOU?" asked a very familiar yelling voice - JJJ again.

Parter gulped - this was the last person he wanted to hear from - the camera he'd been given for the trip and lost cost over $900, and he hadn't been able to get a single picture either.

"Uh....yeah?" he responded weakly.


"Um...well, ya see, about that..."



The loud cling hurt his newfound Glider-hearing, so he squeaked in agony as he jerked the phone away from his ear and hung it up sadly. Parter slowly walked over to his CD player...and pushed the play button again.

Out on the street in front of OzzyInc....

"HEEEELLLLLPPPP MEEEEE!!!!" yelled Dr. Strumm in terror as he ran down the street, trying to outrun the gray-colored freak that was chasing him - the gray-colored freak that had once been Truman Ozzybourne.

"I'm coming for you, Strummmmm..." hissed the deformed Truman as he ran with super-human speed down the sidewalk - at this time of night, there was no one around to help the poor and pathetically slow doctor.

Oh no...where am I going to hide...thought Dr. Strumm in panic as he looked around the shops that aligned the deserted street. The only one that was still open was the local costume shop - it was open late due to the fact that it was conveniently around Halloween time. With a gasp of relief, Strumm burst through the door and into the store.

"May I help you?" asked the extremely bored employee behind the counter.


"Hey, that would make an awesome superhero story or something..."


Suddenly, Truman burst through the door, revealing to the employee what Dr. Strumm was talking about.

He was stark naked, and his skin was entirely gray and scaly. His ears had become extremely pointy, and his teeth were sharper than usual. Other than that, he was pretty normal.

"DUDE, AWESOME COSTUME!" yelled the employee, clearly impressed.

"This isn't a costume, you idiot! What are you talking about!?" yelled Truman as he searched for Dr. Strumm through the aisles. As he did, he suddenly came across a mirror placed next to one of the costume racks - and Truman saw what he had become.


Panicking quickly, he grabbed the nearest costume on the rack - a Power Ranger suit - and slipped into it while the employee and Dr. Strumm looked on in amazement, horror, and overall confusion.

After slipping into the suit that conveniently fit him snugly, he then went for the matching helmet - but his ears were too pointy to fit.

"WHY DID I DO THIS TO MYSELF!?" he yelled in agony - then his personality abrubtly changed back to the maniacal version. He suddenly began to talk to himself.

"Because, you idiot, SOMEBODY had to take the Gray Stuff, and since there's a new superhero about to originate himself in this very city, he's going to need a supervillain - it was too perfect NOT to happen!"

Then, he suddenly went nuts on the employee and Dr. Strumm, making sure they would never be able to tell of what had happened that night.
Parter left the house in the morning, smoothing out the long sleeves of his dorky shirt in order to hide the skin flaps and bully-frightening muscles that he developed. The door slammed open next door and Jerri Mayne hurried out, clutching her books, while a short, yelling bald man followed her.

"You're trash! You're always going to be trash! You're just like her! Did I say that you were trash?! If I didn't, I'll repeat it again! You're TRASH, you trashy piece of unwanted trash!" yelled JM's father in unwarranted rage.
"I have to go to school!" sobbed JM, continuing to walk away.
"Ahh, who's stoppin' ya?" her father muttered, turning away. Parter reached into his bookbag, pulled out an apple, and lobbed it at the man's head as he took off in a run. He could hear the "THUNK!" and loud expletives as he tried to catch up with Jerri Mayne.

She stopped a while down the street, obviously upset. Parter ducked behind a garbage can a few feet away and began murmuring to himself.

" 'Hi, JM...how are you?' No. 'Yo, JM! Wassup, dog?!' No. 'Hey baby, take a walk on the wild side?' Definitely not..."

He was so busy talking to himself that he did not notice that JM had just been picked up by some of her friends in a convertible, or the fact that people - even hobos - were staring at him strangely. Indeed, he didn't notice anything outside his own talking until he heard the unmistakeable sound of a passing school bus.

"Darn it!" Parter said, keeping within the nerdy etiquette that strictly prohibits any actual swearing. He ran out on to the street in pursuit of the bus, causing a 18-wheeler to jackknife as it tried to avoid him.

He began catching up to the school bus, and fast. Some might attribute this to his increased speed, but the more sensible people will point out that the bus is only going 5 mph tops. However, the bus driver obviously didn't notice (or tried not to notice) the student desperately hammering his fist on the side of the vehicle. The students on board laughed, and continued to do so, as Parter chased the bus for its entire route - when it stopped for pick-ups, he just ran around it to keep pace instead of boarding it. And so he ended up chasing the bus all the way to school.

Meanwhile, in the Ozzybourne mansion...

Larry entered his father's drawing room to see Truman sprawled out on the floor, with a slightly gray complexion and a Power Rangers costume on.

"DAD?!" yelled Larry, throwing aside his bookbag and knocking over a nearby butler. "DAD?! ARE YOU OKAY?!"

Truman's eyes opened and he looked up into his son's face.

"Dad, where were you last night? You're gray, and you're wearing a Power Rangers outfit."

Truman blinked, slowly trying to remember. So slowly, in fact, that Larry ended up missing the first period of school while his father tried to recall the events of last night.
"Last night...I was..."
A sudden flashback entered Truman's mind as he saw himself, attacking a screaming Strumm and costume store cashier in a fit of cliché-induced rage.

But before he could think of an ending for his sentence, a woman burst into the room.
"Mr. Ozzybourne!" the woman panted.

"Excuse me, but my father's a bit under the weather..." Larry began, but she ignored him.

"Mr. Ozzybourne, Dr. Strumm is dead!"

"Dr. Strumm..."

"And the gray stuff and scooter...!"


"They've been stolen, sir!" the woman said, as Truman slowly lifted himself off the floor.


Sorry for the length of time it took to add this part, but I've been busy.
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Meanwhile, back at P.S. 1,085,947,395 High School...

The day had gone smoothly enough thusfar for Parter. Nobody seemed to notice that he was drastically changed physically, mainly due to his bulky sweatshirt that everyone DID notice. Blur Stompson had only fired 11 spitballs at him that morning compared to his usual 38, and JM had actually almost glanced at him once when she looked at somebody else next to him. Overall, the day was going pretty swell for Parter - but in mere moments, lunch time would begin...and Parter had the weirdest and STRONGEST urge for fruit...

Mere moments later...

"Hey, uh, you guys got any bananas, or apples, or some other kind of fruit?" asked Parter hopefully to the clearly haggard and depressed lunch lady.

"Sorry...we just ran out...gave the last banana and apple and some other kind of fruit to that red haired girl over there," said the lady, pointing with her mush-covered ladle and splattering it on Parter's face nonchalantly.

"Kay...thanks..." said Parter as he threw his tray out of the way and ran straight toward JM with his newfound Glider-speed, who was slowly trotting to her popular-girls table.

With a piercing squeak of discovery, effort, and hunger-induced insanity, Parter jumped through the air and tackled JM with all his might, sending HER tray of mush 'n fruit flying high into the air. The second the two bodies hit the ground, Parter instantly threw her out of the way and caught the tray in midair, and waited patiently for the fruit to fall back down. After waiting patiently for a few nanoseconds, he expertly caught the banana, the apple, and even the other fruit in a stack formation. Not caring about anything else, he carelessly let the mush fall to the ground.

With a triumphant grin, Parter took the tray of fruit and spun around to face - not the table he was originally planning to go to, but - an enraged and messy Blur Stompson, who was covered in mush. The tray Parter threw away earlier, back at the line, had hit him directly in the face. Parter suddenly realized this unfortunate consequence of his hasty and insane action earlier, and gulped nervously as a result.

"Nobody..." began Blur, steaming with rage, "...throws their tray of school-mush at me without LOOKING FIRST AND WARNING ME!!!"

"Uhhh...hey Biff, what the heck is THAT!?" yelled Parter while pointing over Blur's shoulder, hoping to distract him with a technique he'd picked up by watching hours of 80's movies.

"What? WHERE!?" yelled Blur in alarm, turning around to see only the rest of the cafeteria staring back at him strangely, wondering how on Earth he'd actually fallen for that.

"Uh...hey, wait a minute, my name's not BIFF!" yelled Blur in even more rage as he took off after the fleeing Parter. Just as he took his first step, however, he instantly slipped on JM's previously-spilled mush, sending him butt-first HARD onto the tiled cafeteria floor. Wincing at the pain and humiliation he was experiencing at the moment, Blur slowly got up, wiped his shoes off, and yelled with fury as he took off once again after Parter.

An even more enraged and confused JM took off after him as well, eager for some revenge herself.
Gotta hide, gotta hide, gotta HIDE...thought Parter in animal-like panic as he looked around the deserted hallway desperately. There was nowhere to hide except...the janitor's closet - the exact same one where the dazed bodies of still-beat-up nerds lay. That, or a locker. After much thought crammed into a few milliseconds, he decided on the locker option. With his tray of fruit still in hand, he used his newfound Glider-dexterity to cram himself into his own locker...the LAST locker anyone would think to look in.


"GET outta there, Peker!" yelled Blur as he instantly yanked open the door to the locker and slung Parter out into the hallway, spilling Parter's coveted fruit in the process.

"Think you're somethin' special, doncha PUNK-er?" bullied Blur to Parter, shoving him back into the locker harshly.

"Yeah, PUNK-ER!" yelled JM behind him, glaring the mortified Parter down.

"I'd back off if I were you, Blur...you don't know what I'm capable of..." weakly threatened Parter.

"Oh, I've seen what you're CAPABLE of, Punk-er...wetting your pants whenever I jump atcha from behind your locker!"

The entire student body and teaching staff gathered in a huge circle around the three laughed hysterically at this observance.

"No Blur...I mean capable of hurting YOU."

Blur backed away with a humored smirk on his face. JM flanked him on the side, her fists balled up, in the air, and ready for action.

"You think you can take on both of us, Peker? GO FOR IT," taunted Blur.

"Okay, sure...HEY BIFF, WHAT THA HECK IS THAT!?" yelled Parter again, pointing and hoping he could make it two for two.

"Oh, no, I ain't fallin' for THAT again!" yelled Blur back, but JM couldn't help but look behind herself dramatically. With that temporary and pathetic advantage, Parter picked up his lunch tray that he'd dropped and quickly flung it like a frisbee at JM, knocking her several feet backwards into the cushion ring of students. Blur stared with a gaping jaw as Parter brought up his fists and unintentionally sprouted tiny claws from his fingernails. Parter gasped at this new development, but suddenly decided to implement them to his advantage.

With a squeal of unbridled fury and exhiliration, Parter leaped for Blur, blocking all of his pathetic attempts to punch him and scratching his face up horrifically in the process. After getting quite a few impressive swipes in, he was pulled off of Blur by JM who subsequently connected with two strong consecutive hooks to his jaw and midsection, sending Parter flying back into the lockers. With a scream of her own, she picked up Blur and hurled his limp and hurting body into Parter, denting the lockers behind them and flattening them both with their cumulative weight.

As the student body and teaching staff looked on in sheer amazement, JM yanked Parter out of the pile haphazardly and slung him around in a complete circle before letting him go, sending him hurdling headfirst through the closed (and hardwood) door of the janitor's closet and into a full and dirty mop bucket. She then combed her hands through her hair, took a deep breath, and grinned as she picked up her purse.

With that, everyone cheered loudly, chanting "JM, JM, JM!!!" Larry, who had finally arrived at the school moments before the fight had all began, whistled loudly and ran up to her, shoving around and not caring at all about the throng of students who had already gone in front of him.

"Hey, JM, that was AWESOME! My dad owns this very popular local wrestling league, ya know, and they've been looking for some female members! You oughta join!" he babbled, yanking out a business card to hand to JM.

She swatted it away as she continued to fix her hair. Larry watched downheartedly as the card fluttered in a defeated fashion to the floor.

"I hate those barbaric and stupid wrestling things...it's just so violent and wrong..." she said as she trotted back to the lunchroom to attempt another lunch. Larry ran after her, ranting further about how he could possibly market her fighting abilities.

Parter moaned and slowly brought his head out of the mop bucket, spitting out the grotesque mixture of water, dirt, and ammonia. He then slowly got up and winced as he felt the bruises from the harsh impact with the lockers and wooden door. He turned to face the large hole in the closet door and winced even further.

After washing out the chemicals from his eyes and washing the cuts and scrapes in the nearby sink, he hobbled slowly out into the now-deserted-again hallway and made his way slowly back to the next class. As he turned the corner, he happened to notice a recently-dropped business card that advertised a local wrestling league. According to the card, it was looking for "colorful, un-nerdy wrestlers," and it offered a $5,000 dollar reward to the one who could last 5 minutes, 34 seconds, and 26.7 milliseconds with a "mystery wrestler."

Realizing that he actually WAS at least able to beat up Blur, and that with enough training, he could hone his Glider-abilities to further his inhuman combat skills (plus the fact that he needed some money and a job HORRIBLY), Parter stuffed the card in his pocket with a glimmer of hope and continued to limp back to class.
Godzilla2000 said:
Um....okay. :confused:

It REALLY helps if you've read our previous installment "Gliderman: Rise of the Sick Six," AND seen the first Spiderman movie. Oh yeah - and it also helps to appreciate our humor.;):p Some people just can't, I guess...;):D
Why, thank you very much!!!:D Also, thanks for bumping it! I was about to, but ya beat me to it! More will be added soon!:D
After school, Parter made it a point to run down the street conspicuously for about a mile, then turn into an alleyway, hoping to hide from no one in particular. Leaning against the wall of the alleyway and panting heavily, he looked around nervously and gazed at his hands.

As if on cue, tiny claws shot out in place of his fingernails, strangely causing him no pain. Looking up, he noticed the brick wall in front of him - and an interesting thought crossed his mind:

Did I leave the coffee maker on?

Oh, yeah - could I possibly CLIMB this wall?

With soaring hopes and curiosity, Parter spread out his hands and grasped the wall gingerly - and sure enough, he felt adherence.

With even more excitement, he began to easily climb towards the roof - despite the fact that his sneakers possessed zero adhesive ability. Upon reaching the top, Parter looked out over the Washington skyline and took a deep breath - this was the highest up he'd EVER been without throwing up first.

I think I'm starting to LIKE Glider-nitis, thought Parter. Hey, wait a minute! If I have the powers of a sugar glider, I should be able to glide farther than the average human!!!

With this not-so-newfound discovery, Parter ripped off his shirt and extended his arms, revealing the freaky skin flaps beneath his arms. Suddenly, a strong gust of wind caught Parter right in the back, causing him to lose his balance and send him reeling forward into an elevated air duct with a loud CLANG.

"Stupid air ducts," he murmured as he shook off the pain. "I think I'll practice my agility first, THEN get a handle on my gliding abilities!"

With that, Parter sewed his shirt back together and put it back on, THEN began to take a running start toward the next building. With his newfound strength, Peter let out a loud and nerdy "Geeeee golly!" as he leaped from the roof of that building and onto the next one.

In mid-air, though, he suddenly felt lightweight and blurry, as if his actual physical structure had changed as he was in mid-air between buildings. Once he landed, Parter quickly looked down to his feet - and he saw the blurriness slowly fading into tangibility.

Wait a minute...thought Parter, thinking about the situation. I turned CGI while in mid-air!!!

Pushing the experiment farther, he ran in erratic directions at super-glider speed. Even as he ran in inhuman quickness, he felt the lightweight blurriness coming on again. With the newfound momentum, he jumped as hard as he could to the west, seeing that there was a building. Sure enough, he noticed his entire body became blurry and fakey-looking as he flew through the air toward the next building's roof.

With a painless and 8.9-rated landing, Parter quickly came back into real-life form.

Wow - when I do stuff a stuntman can't, I turn CGI automatically! AWESOME! yelled Parter mentally.

Not even caring about how his CGI-abilities had nothing to do with radioactive sugar-glider saliva, Parter ripped off his shirt again and lept straight into the air, letting the wind take control of him again. With his arms spread out, and the fakey CGI enveloping him once again, he glode (or glided) toward the Capital Building's distinctive dome roof, hoping to land smoothly on it as well.

Of course, being inexperienced with his sugar-glider abilities, Parter didn't exactly know how to put on the "brakes," which resulted in him SMACK-ing into one of the windows of the Capital Building's dome with sickening force. And, just as the scooter rider he'd seen just days before at Ozzyinc, he slid down the rarely-cleaned glass with an all-too-familiar squealing noise, his face pressed against it comically.

It seemed even his CGI abilities had their limitations.
Later that night, Parter raced back home to his house after having finally regained conciousness from smashing into the Capital Building. He walked through the front door, and found the house empty. At least, he hoped it was empty. He still never forgot the incident in which he thought that Uncle Ken and Aunt June weren't home, and entered their bedroom only to be traumatized by what he witnessed there. "Knock before entering" was soon embedded into his mind.
After repressing the memory of that event, Parter decided to search the kitchen for any conspicuous notes indicating that left-overs were saved just for him. He found one on the fridge.

"Hey Leonardo da Vinci,
There's some Daft Dinner waiting for you in the microwave. We would've made meatloaf, but you know how bloated your Aunt feels after having some of that.
--Your Uncle Ken."

Deciding to pass up on the Macaroni and Cheese, Parter instead lugged the garbage out to the garbage cans. He noticed how much easier it was when he had his Glider-enhanced strength. The silence was broken by yelling coming from Jerri Mayne's house next door.

"You're still trash! You're trash, your mother's trash, your sister's trash, your ancestors are trash! Heck, even your pet gerbil is trash!" Parter's advanced hearing picked up a squeak and he turned to see a gerbil flying out JM's window, obviously propelled by her father. "Speaking of trash, why don't you leave and go stand by some garbage cans to converse with a nerdy neighbour in order to pick up your morale despite my verbally abusive ranting?!!"

JM walked out the door of her house, flustered by her father's gerbil-throwing and screams of "TRASH!". She saw Parter standing by his own garbage cans, looking scared.

"Were you listening to that?" asked JM, not bothering to say "hello".
"No, no...well, yes, I was. But not in an eavesdropping sense. I kind of heard it, and decided to keep listening instead of going back into my house." Parter stammered nervously.
"I guess you can always hear it. Your Aunt and Uncle never fight."
"Oh, they can scream pretty good sometimes. My Aunt June was an opera singer."
There was an awkward pause...then:
"I'm sorry for, you know, beating you up and destroying your masculinity in front of the whole school like that." JM said.
"It's Ok," Parter replied, "they never thought I had any masculinity in the first place. How's Blur?"
"He'll be alright. He's just upset that all the damage was done above the neck, because of the school photos and all. Your claws, I never noticed them before."
"I kind of hide them..." Parter murmured, not wanting to delve into this subject.
"Don't." JM said, and smiled at him. Suddenly, a car pulled up and the driver, Blur, called to JM. He was wearing bandages around his face, and resembled the Invisible Man. Parter suppressed a giggle.
"Hey, JM! Come take a ride in my new Halloween present!"
"Oooh! It's gorgeous!" JM shrieked, forgetting instantly about Parter and running towards the brilliant pink Cadillac. She jumped in, and with a scream of "YAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" they took off, leaving Parter to cough in the dust and dead leaves the car's wheels threw back.
"Cool car." muttered Parter, and he turned back to his house.

A few minutes later, back inside, Parter was looking through the advertisements selling vehicles. His eyes flicked over such beauties as the Hummer H2, and eventually came to rest on a used bicycle. But then, a brightly colored advertisement came to his attention (the rest of the ads were black and white for some reason). It was the same one that he found on the floor in school, advertising a wrestling league. Looking carefully at the fine print, he saw that his opponent was named "Toothdrill McGill", and it was at that moment that Parter decided that it would be McGill's teeth feeling the drill.

Being in a wrestling league meant that he would need a costume of course, and he sat down and started designing various outfits. After spending the night drawing - curiously, his Aunt and Uncle never returned home - it came down to one of two designs. He decided on the gray and red suit with spaces for skin flaps, because the red and blue costume with a web pattern and spider symbol didn't feel "Glider-y" enough. With a costume designed, Parter felt self-assured that he would gain victory and $5000 to woo JM with...
Of course, in order to fully ensure his victory over Toothdrill McGill, he would HAVE to practice his Glider abilities. So, the very next morning (Saturday morning), Parter skipped his normal cartoon watching in order to focus his attention solely on developing his powers properly.

In order to develop his powers properly, Parter decided that the best course of action would be to tear up his room with his retractable claws, even if his aunt and uncle were within earshot downstairs.

With that, Parter extended his claws and started shredding everything in sight, including his bed, his computer, his aquarium, and even his innumerable 1st place science fair trophies. The carnage ended within seconds, his room a total wreck.

I'm starting to get the hang of this...he thought to himself with pride. Besides, I needed new stuff in here anyway.

Suddenly, there was an urgent knock on his door.

"Parter, what in God's green-ish blue-ish white-ish Earth is going on in there!?" demanded a distraught Aunt June. Obviously, she'd heard the noise he hadn't bothered to subdue.

"Hey Aunt June, what's happnin'?" answered Parter innocently, cracking the door open just enough to see her but also to disallow her from seeing his room.

"I heard things crashing and cloth ripping - is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine - I'm just exercising! I'm not dressed, Aunt June..."

"What are you doing exercising naked, dear?"

"Uhhhh.......hey, isn't Golden Girls on?"

"Oh, you're right! Sorry to bother you, honey."

Parter closed the door gently behind the quickly-retreating Aunt June, a sigh of relief escaping his respiratory system.

Meanwhile...in the Ozzybourne Mansion...

Truman gazed upon the Weekly World Report with utter horror...

He'd always known that alien zebras would one day take over Turkmenistan through the water supply.

If only those fools at Aquafina had listened...he thought to himself.

Quickly turning to the back page of the black-and-white newspaper, he saw what he feared second most - a gigantic article on the "End of OzzyInc?"!

With ever-rising dread, he scanned the article quickly, not even stopping to actually read it, but to instead read the title and look up into the ceiling with grief. According to what words he'd managed to pick from the article, he remembered seeing "Best Aerospace" and "company upheaval" and "recall of all flavourless sugar cubes" and "pink slip" and "revenge is very likely" and "let's just hope he isn't a homicidal super-powered maniac" and stuff like that.

Suddenly, he heard a distant cackle...it sounded somewhat like a dry heave mixed with the sound of phlegm being coughed up, but it was still menacing in its own way. Truman dropped the tabloid and looked about the gigantic room, searching for the source of the sound. It seemed to be coming from both the room around him...and from within himself.

"HEY DAD!" yelled Larry from out of nowhere, causing Truman to whip around and hiss with bared teeth.

"OH...it's just you, son..." sighed Truman with relief, simultaneously turning his teeth-baring into a subtle grin. Larry had been standing right behind him the entire time.

"Yeah - pretty cool laugh, huh? I heard it from some alien dude on that Sci-Fi Channel movie...hey, dad, you look kinda...pale. Is everything okay?"

"Oh, I'm just fine..." bemused Truman falsely. "I just...need some rest, is all."

"You always say that whenever you finish doing something weird and someone discovers you doing it!"

"Well, it's this stuff that's been going on with the company and everything...you wouldn't understand, being a kid and all."

"But daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaddd..."

"Don't you 'BUT DAD' me! I've had enough of this pointless conversation! You go to your room NOW!"

"But dad, my room's got every conceivable gaming system in it with a surround sound system and 72 inch wall-mounted plasma television! Do I HAVE to???"


Larry ran off, crying bitterly.

Truman turned back around and picked up his tabloid in order to scan some more - and he noticed something that he didn't want to notice.

His hands had gone back to gray and scaly form, just as he'd experienced in that strange dream he had about killing Dr. Strumm and some costume-shop cashier guy. He quickly turned to his human-size wall mirror, only to discover that his entire body had reverted back to the gray, scaly monstrosity - pointy ears and all.

Obviously, anger triggered the physical transformation in him - and he had plenty of it. With the threat of the company going under, his son giving him a hard time, and the overall stress of being "Mr. Ozzy," as his employees called him combined - it was too much for a sane man to take.

And that was why it was only natural to go IN-sane.
"There's something the matter with him, June." Uncle Ken said as he sat at the dinner table; Aunt June was striding around the kitchen aimlessly, looking for random chores to do. "Maybe he's afraid to tell me what it is, maybe I'm too afraid to ask him. Actually, it's more likely that he's afraid to tell me, being so reclusive and all."
At that note, Parter half-ran, half-fell down the stairs in obvious haste. Uncle Ken stood up and followed him down the hall.
"Hey, Part, what's the rush?"
"Oh, I'm just going to the...um...Museum of Tupperware...to do research on the most durable plastic containers for class." Parter lied.
"Great, great! I'll drive you there!" said his uncle, enthusiastically jumping on the chance to corner his nephew and have a potentially embarrassing talk about the changes that occur during the teenage years.
"No, it's okay. I'll call a cab, take a train, glide above the city..." Parter stammered, hurriedly pulling on a jacket.
"No, no, I insist on driving you. Come on." Uncle Ken replied, not quite registering the "glide above the city" comment. He shoved Parter roughly through the door, winked at Aunt June, and herded his nephew into the car.

5 hours later, they finally arrived in front of the Museum. It would've taken minutes, if only it were not for the fact that Uncle Ken drove a horseless carriage that needed the crank rotated every hundred meters. Parter kept his head low, ashamed to be seen in the vehicle. The ABBA music his uncle had blaring on the radio didn't help matters. Upon parking, Uncle Ken turned down "Mamma Mia" and turned to his ready-to-flee nephew.
"Don't worry about coming to pick me up in a few hours, Uncle Ken. I'll call a cab." Parter said, as he prepared to open the door.
"Sit down, Part. We need to have a talk."
"About what?" asked Parter, both surprised and irritated.
"About you. Your grades have been slipping, you skip school, you forget your chores, your laundry pile's attracting various harmful bacteria, you've been getting into fights in hallways..."
"I didn't start that fight!"
"You sure as H-E-double hockey sticks never finished it either. Beaten up by the girl next door." Uncle Ken shook his head. "Anyway, you're changing. I know that. I went through the same thing at your age."
Grinning inwardly at the irony of that statement, Parter muttered "No, not exactly..."
"Parter, these changes. It's the feeling of becoming a man-"
"I already know this, I took Biology." interrupted the nervous teenager.
"Well, I just want to say. Just because you can scratch up this..."Blur" Stompson's face, it doesn't mean that you should. It would probably have been manlier if you punched him, too."
"So, what? Am I supposed to run away?"
"No, you're not supposed to run away..."
"But what do I do if I can't fight or run?" asked Parter.
Uncle Ken thought for a moment. "Well, maybe you could sort of half-fight, and half-run."
"Okay, that makes no sense!"
"I know, I know. Please, for a moment, listen to me. You're getting stronger, I can tell. By growing up, you've gained strength and power. Just remember, nephew...if you ever trap a tentacled maniac named Professor Squid in a TV station's cafeteria, always remember this - with cool abilities...comes a gigantic pile of misery and troubles."

As odd as this comment was, it didn't deflect Parter's annoyance.
"Something's different, give me time, I'll figure it out. Just stop giving me mysterious advice, please!"
"Look, I know I'm not your father..."
"Then stop being such an adequate and kind-hearted father substitute!" Parter yelled in a surge of teenage hormones.
A pained expression crossed Uncle Ken's face, and he turned away from his nephew.
"Alright...I'll be here to pick you up later..."
Parter, unreasonably angry with his uncle, slammed the door. He waited for several minutes while Uncle Ken turned the crank on the carriage and eventually drove away. He waited until the carriage was out of sight, and headed for the Wrestling League...
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Parter climbed the metal steps that led to the uppermost balcony overlooking the carnage unfolding below. The second he reached the top, he gazed in awe at the horrifically-violent-yet-conveniently-bloodless spectacle before him. The fabled "Toothdrill McGill" was tearing up the "competition" (for lack of a better term) effortlessly, throwing each unlucky soul left and right, slamming them on the back of the head with beanbag chairs, and making sure he gave them a good dental "checkup" before they left. Needless to say, no one was yet able to last for the set limit of 5 minutes, 34 seconds, and 26.7 milliseconds. But Parter, despite his current urge to pee, knew that if ANYONE was going to be able to do it, it would be him. Or maybe JM.

At the sign-up counter...

"C'mon, sign me up!" begged Parter relentlessly, he being last in line due to the fact that he had forgotton to put an entry slit in his costume.

"Ah SAYED NO!" retorted the sign-up lady behind the booth. "We have a STRICT policy regardin' nerds, and as fun as it is to see them get BEAT DOWN, we've had too many lawsuits to evuh do it ageyun. You GOT ME?"

"Lady, look - I'm not your ordinary nerd. I need that $5,000, and I have just so happened to obtain SUPER POWERS. Watch."

And with that, Parter extended his arm and withdrew his claws through the tiny holes cut in his gloves. Of course, the lady had seen better gimmicks before.

"Nice try kid, but I'm tellin' you, you CAN'T GET IN. What part of that don't you understand?'

"I'm not DONE YET! Watch THIS!"

Parter then demonstrated his strength by grabbing the lady by the wrists and lifting her up off the seat effortlessly (which was rather extraordinary, considering her weight). Instead of being impressed, the lady screamed for security and kicked repeatedly at his crotch, which he dodged systematically with Glider-like agility.

"We can stand here all day if you want, or we can sign me up - take your pick..." said Parter smoothly.

With that, the lady finally slowed her panic-induced hysteria and shakily nodded in agreement.


After wiping the pepper spray out of his eyes for a few minutes, Parter hobbled over to the area that was situated right behind the curtain that presented each "challenger" (for lack of better term) to the audience. Parter couldn't see it, but he could hear the mayhem going on just on the other side of the curtain. Slams, bangs, whirrs of a drill, muffled groans of dental-discomfort, and finally, the bell that ended the current match. Parter knew he was next.

"Is there NO ONE that can challenge this mountain of manliness, this paragon of pain-inducement, this deity of dentistry!? ANYONE!?" yelled the ring announcer tauntingly to the crowd.

The crowd booed loudly and shouted random unintelligible statements.

"I know who might be able to..." the slick-haired announcer said to the audience with wry grin on his face. He then backed up nonchalantly to the curtain where he could introduce Parter.

Parter listened with bladder-twisting excitement as the ring announcer began.

"Ladies and gentlemen - well, actually, there are no ladies here, except those really manly ones in leather that serve the sole purposes of exhibiting a desperate attempt at 'sex appeal' and engaging in disgusting janitorial chores - anyway, GENTLEMEN: he's scrawny, he's a rodent, he glides like a kite and stings like a belly-flop, he's the.....uhh......"

The announcer turned to the curtain and whispered intently:

"What am I supposed to call you, kid?"

Parter could hardly contain his excitement.

"Gliderman, please. And I'm a marsupial, not a ro-"

"What? 'GLIDERMAN'!? That's stupid! You have organic claws, not homemade ones that come out of gloves you invented! I know what I'll call you..."

"No, wait!"


He paused for effect.


"What?" objected Parter. "I specifically requested that you-WHOA!"

He was instantly shoved out into the light-and-sweat filled arena by the aforementioned leather-clad man-women as he attempted to finish his objection. Parter looked around at the bewildered audience, not really thinking of ANYTHING substantial as he was roughly guided to the ring in which Toothdrill McGill waited.....with a mischievous, pearly-white grin on his face.
Parter, or the "Astounding Man-Glider", found himself shunted into the wrestling ring, face to face with "Toothdrill" McGill. McGill, wearing a spandex outfit that dentists probably wouldn't wear to work, grinned eagerly.
"Er, hi?" said Parter, holding his hand over his eyes to protect them from the blinding gleam of McGill's flawless teeth. Suddenly, an odd grinding noise pierced his sensitive ears, and he looked above him to see a massive cage being lowered over the ring. Panicking, he ran over to the turnbuckle and began calling to the nearby staff - who were standing on the floor with chains and locks at the ready.
"There must be some kind of mistake! I didn't sign up for a cage match!" he squealed desperately. They ignored his protests, and locked the doors of the cage. Parter was trapped. He turned to see McGill smirking at him.
"Hey, geek-show! You're going nowhere!" said McGill, trying to intimidate him for the entertainment of the bloodthirsty crowd. "I've got you for 5 minutes, 34 seconds, and 26.7 milliseconds. 5 minutes, 34 seconds, and 26.7 milliseconds of pain!"
The intimidation worked. Parter began scrambling backwards and trying to climb up the cage. The bell rang, and McGill charged blindly at him - despite the fact that Parter was already climbing the cage wall. Unfortunately for Parter, this tactic paid off. McGill headbutted the cage, and the Astounding Man-Glider lost his grip on the metal links, landing hard on the apron.
"What were you doin' up there?!" McGill yelled, looming above him.
"Pathetically attempting to stay away from you! Say, those are nice teeth. Does your dentist brush them for you?" Parter retorted, attempting to use a quick and witty remark to infuriate McGill to the point of stupidity.

It didn't work.

If Parter had seen one of the previous fights during the time he was attempting to convince the woman to let him sign up, he would've known that humor is not effective in distracting McGill. His years as a dental practitioner trained him to the point of being entirely focused on his work; a fact soon learned by his previous victim, "Comical" Curt Comedo, as he was taken away on a gurney with a broken funny bone and various other mangled limbs.
Parter soon realized this himself, when McGill had grabbed him by the head and started swinging him bodily into the cage walls. The crowd cried with laughter as they watched the wrestler relentlessly smash his "opponent" (A term used loosely) into any surface in his radius.
After a minute of this, McGill dropped the bruised and battered nerd onto the floor, and went to one of the leather-clad women to obtain an instrument of torture. She handed him a dentist's drill with an encouraging yell of "Fix his Glider-teeth! YEAH!". However, the temporary pause in the wrestler's assault gave Parter to get back on his feet, and he stood poised for the fight when McGill turned around, wielding his weapon of tooth-drilling terror.
With a high-pitched scream of Glider-fury, Parter leaped at "Toothdrill". Taken by surprise at this brave - and possibly, stupid - act, McGill didn't know how to react when he found himself being propelled into the chain-link fence by a marsupial-enhanced dropkick. He also didn't know how to react when he found himself being swung up and then bounced off the floor repeatedly by his ankles.
Parter, full of confidence and raging hormones, decided to end this match with a bang. He yanked the drill from the dazed McGill's hand, and smacked him over the head with the handle of it, knocking out the wrestler and two of his precious teeth. The bell rang again as the cage began ascending to the ceiling once more, and the slick-haired ring announcer slid into the ring. Quite literally; because his hair gel allowed him to slide across the surface of the apron.
The announcer grabbed Parter's arm and lifted it into the air, proclaiming to the crowd the victor.
"Let's have a hand for the new champion, the ASTOUNDING MAN-GLIDER!" yelled the announcer.
"It's Glider-Man..." muttered Parter in irritation, but the announcer couldn't hear him over the boos of the crowd. They ducked for cover as popcorn, various beverages, and half-melted chocolate bars pelted the entire ring without mercy. Leaving McGill and the now-unconscious ring announcer (Who got a rather nasty smack to the head from a Charleston Chew bar) to be eaten by the ants that would soon be attracted to the food that landed on them, Parter fled the arena as a riot of Scottish magnitude erupted. There was one thought on his mind, and that was getting his money and buying himself a vehicle that was sure to make Jerri Mayne stare. Whether it would be in adoration or disgust, he wasn't sure, but at least she would look at him.

Again, sorry for the delay. I've got exams coming up, and a fair amount of stuff happening at school.
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