Donovan will eat you alive. Literally

Sir, how do we find this Old Donovan?

The crows will show you the way.

Caw! The crows have no use for Old Donovan.


Caw. Old Donovan is our enemy! Caw!

He's actually right this time. Caw. The crows and Old Donovan are ancient enemies. We will not take you to him.

Dudes, chill. Just take them back to Allentown, then.

But Allentown is fraught with danger. The city lies in smoldering ruin as angels and demons battle in its streets.


Has anyone seen "Angels and Demons" yet? I love Tom Hanks.

You know, it's not half-bad. Better than the last one. I don't know why the pope has his nose out of joint over it. ... He's been a bit of a disappointment.

Tom Hanks is our enemy! Caw!

Shush! ... The crows believe that using an anti-matter bomb as such a key element of the plot was far-fetched to say the least ...

The crows shall launch their own anti-matter bomb against the Vatican! Caw!

Shush! Why don't you go outside and play with the polar bears? Caw!

Enough. We must find this Old Donovan and torture him!

Not likely, dude. Chances are you won't even survive the encounter. ... Here's the deal. The crows will take you as far as Allentown -- and that's an order, dudes -- and you'll have to find the cavern that runs under Hamilton Street. Beneath 7th and Hamilton, you will find an abandoned comfort station. Donovan is the rest room attendant. He'll tell you what to do.

I never saw any damn tunnel under Hamilton Street. How are we supposed to find that? Hell, thanks to damn ol' Marge, Hamilton street's a damn war zone.

If I may interrupt, Oh Lord, I have some small knowledge of the underground areas around Hamilton Street. There was some talk of creating those rest stations in my time.

But how do we get access?

Well, the place was pretty torn up after the Spanish Armada attacked. There's probably some good spots to get in. The Countess of Monaco got in from under the Butz building after it was destroyed.

That old bat's still alive? She's got more lives than a damn cat. Hell, she looks like a damn cat.

Dude, you may want to lose the hat and the nose. Donovan will eat you alive. Literally.

About time!

Hell! Who wants to look like you anyway, Rufus?

Whoa! "Desperate Housewives" is coming on. I'm out, dudes. Good luck. POOF!

OK. Angel, general -- you're with me.

I could help you find your way though the tunnels.

OK, Rudolph. You're in.

Whoa! Hold it right there. I got a red nose, too. You ain't leavin me here alone with Santa. He's a damn psycho. ... Plus one of those guys in Parallel Time looks just like me, but not as handsome. I could be unobtrusive.


He's right Mr. Bauer, Parallel Atown-Liker's right-hand man looks just like the Player. Plus, Jesus poofed little Ronan over to help with Santa. He took over for me when I was promoted from wiping the Cherubim's asses. He's quite reliable. And nothing like his grownup counterpart from Parallel Time.

I agree with Bubbles. I did some time with him in Limbo. He's a good little dude. Let me come Bauer.

OK, fine. You're in. Remember our objective is to get Newman. Everything else is secondary.

Remember the Maine! Get Newman!

Get damn Newman!

Get Newman, and his little dog, too!

What's all this damn racket! Who the hell are you people? ... Don't you touch me, you little bastard!

Yes, sir.

Get me some vodka you little twerp!

Yes sir.

I think Santa's going to be just fine.

Crows, it's time.


Caw!


Who told you we had an anti-matter weapon?

Caw!

Heaven will suck now

So, what's the connection between a dead actor in non-Parallel Time and president's dog Ponzi in Parallel Time?

The crows do not know this. But we do know that the dog ate 50 billion dollars and we do know that Jesus made Paul Newman the Lord of Parallel Time.


Then we have to go to Parallel time and torture Paul Newman.

Hell yeah! I'll torture that Newman my damn self. Jesus was my pal till Newman came around, then suddenly they hangin out watching all those damn movies and sharing those damn chips. The Player doesn't eat any damn chips! Cool Hand Luke can kiss my ass!

Caw! It is impossible. Lord Newman has imposed celestial lockdown. Not even the crows can travel to Parallel Time.

If I may interject, gentlemen. I may not know about such things as Parallel Time, but I do know about money. Am I to assume that 50 billion dollars is a substantial sum in this time?

Hell yeah, tin man. The Player's not even worth more than 30 billion.

Then that gentlemen is your connection. I dare say that money was not eaten at all, but hidden away. I believe this Ponzi of yours is acting in concert with Lord Newman. Ponzi is his pet! This man doesn't just want to be God, he wants to have more money than God.

Ponzi is more than his pet! Ponzi is his lover! Caw! Caw!

Stop! Seriously, you need to knock it off or we're not going to bring you with us any more. ... The metallic one is wise. I regret pooping upon him.

Poop!

Angel, how do we contact Jesus?

Easy! He's one of my Five Favorites, so it's a free call! ... It's ringing.

Um, hello?

Hi, Jesus. It's me, the little angel. You're on speaker.

Oh, hi. You were doing something with a statue, right? How did that work out?


Gen. Trexler attacked the Spanish Armada and fell into the water and then he helped capture Gabriel and then we ended up at the North Pole and Gabriel was eaten by a polar bear....


OK, cool. See ya later ....




Jesus, wait! We need to tell you about Lord Newman. ... Mr. Bauer, he doesn't sound like himself.

Jesus? Sir, my name is Jack Bauer and it is very important that I talk to you. What are you doing right now?


Jack Bauer? Cool. I'm just chillin' dude. Having some tortilla chips ... Newman's Own. Really excellent.


Sir, it is crucial that you do exactly as I say. Slowly, put down the bag and step away from the chips. I believe they have been drugged. Have one of the seraphim take them down to the lab.


The seraphim? Oh, there all gone. ... And so's the lab for that matter. Mr. Newman said I should lay them off.


You laid off the seraphim? Are you nuts? How could you? They are your last line of defense! Heaven will suck now.


Mr. Newman said we didn't need them and he never liked the whole "holy, holy, holy" thing. He said it gave him a headache.


Sir, who is with you right now?


It's just me and the Holy Ghost. ... A very creepy dude.

Please put him on the phone, sir. ... Hello, Mr. Ghost? It's imperative that you destroy all of the Newman's Own chips.

Um, sure, OK.

Jesus! Hey it's me, The Player! Drink one a my protein shakes. That'll kick the ass of them damn Newman chips.

Player ... buddy! How's it going, dude?

Jesus? ... Listen carefully. Your entire network has been compromised, starting with Gabriel, and Paul Newman has taken control of Parallel Time. It is imperative that we travel there to stop him, but he has engaged the the celestial lockdown protocols. Can you help us?

It is impossible! Caw!

No, wait. There is a way. ... Old Donovan.

Caw!

Ya gotta love those guys

I'm getting word from Earl F. Hunsicker Bicentennial Park that Marge has collected a fresh batch of LANTA buses from left field and is on her way downtown to continue her brawl with St. Michael. It may take a while, because, I'm told, she tipped over the Alburtus L. Meyers Bridge on her way over to the South Side. Just for fun! Man, I hope she wins this fight.
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Michael, meanwhile, is rumaging around inside the former Daro's Extreme Fitness III, looking for some barbells and a mirror. Ever since he took that shot of steroids from Atown-Liker he's had this sense of crazed narcissistic caged animal about him. ... Maybe I was wrong about the guy, but I doubt it.
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I don't think there much left in there, though, after they cleaned it out. Daro's, you may remember, was the gym that in its last few weeks of operation ran coupons in the Clipper magazine offering 1 year memberships for just $150 before slashing that price to $99. They signed up as many dopes as they could in that last couple a weeks then shamefully skulked out of town on Easter weekend. Easter weekend! Ya gotta love those guys. They're practically legends back where I come from. In fact we have a place of honor all set up for 'em when the time comes. ...
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Um, where was I? Oh yeah, The Morning Call. Sweet move they pulled over the weekend, am I right? Talk about cutting off your nose to spite your face. ... They cut off their whole freakin head! That's a lotta anguish and pain right there. Gotta hand it to Sam Zell. I mean there's not much more we can do to honor that guy -- he already has a whole wing named after him downstairs and he's a personal friend of the boss. Anyway, since Croc Rock and the Americus are gone we've decided to move our local operations into the Call's building. It's prettymuch empty now and I've still got a couple a buddies there.
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Anyway, gotta bet back to my post. See ya on the radio.

Lame ass

Wake up and post something!

Leave me alone. I feel like crap. Maybe next week.

Lame ass.