Part 1 http://www.comicvine.com/forums/fan-fic-8/5th-column-comics-rocking-roll-1-1662997/
Part 2 http://www.comicvine.com/forums/fan-fic-8/5th-column-comics-rocking-roll-2-1670207/
Part 3 http://www.comicvine.com/forums/fan-fic-8/5th-column-comics-rocking-roll-3-1670751/
Part 4 http://www.comicvine.com/forums/fan-fic-8/5th-column-comics-rocking-roll-4-1682813/
Part 5:http://www.comicvine.com/forums/fan-fic-8/5th-column-comics-rocking-roll-5-1683421/
Part 6:http://www.comicvine.com/forums/fan-fic-8/5th-column-comics-rocking-roll-6-1684025/
**
Rocking Roll flew over Indigo City; beer in one hand, burrito in the other, with a joint clinging to his bottom lip as Kenny Loggins’ ‘Highway To The Danger Zone’ blasted out of his cloud. Suddenly the wind ripped the joint off his lip and it spiralled down to earth.
“No way man!” cursed Rocking Roll as he banked the cloud and sky surfed after it. With moves that’d make Tony Hawk take notice, he manoeuvred under his illegal cigarette and deftly caught it between his teeth then used his tongue to flip it the right way round. He took a log drag when he noticed a fire on the ground below him.
“What the %$#?” he muttered as he peered down to see a burning treble clef in the Lovecraft car park. He stared at it for a while before devouring his burrito and washing it down with the beer. He then patted his face. “Oh man, I ate my joint!”
Slowly he put the cloud into a downward spiral as Led Zeppelin’s ‘Whole Lotta Love’ accompanied the descent, as he air guitared in time with the music.
“Hello?” he cried as he hopped off the cloud. “Who’s trying to be Hendrix? Hello?”
‘I told you it would work,” came a voice from the shadows.
“Well then, daddio owes you some cheddar,” said a figure as it stepped from the shadows.
“Who the %^$% are you two?” said Rocking Roll as he looked at the pair. The man was a rakish thin black man who dressed several decades out of synch; permed afro, purple oversized sunglasses, wide collared beige safari suit with rhinestones and a bitchin pimp cane in his broomstick like fingers. The Eurasian woman in her forties was desperately dressed like she wanted to be twenty-two with a push up bra, school uniform and makeup that looked like it had been done via a shotgun.
“We are Duo, your arch nemesis,” said the woman, unsure if that was the right word.
Rocking Roll looked at them in stunned silence, which turned into an awkward silence only to be made weirder when he farted. “You’re ^%$&ng what?”
“This cat is whacked, Popcandy,” said the man as he spun his cane.
“Let’s send him to the bottom of the charts, Funky-J,” she replied pulling a microphone from her cleavage and popping a blade out the bottom of it.
“What are you on about?”
“We’re here to kill you, you stupid metal ^&%$!” screeched Popcandy slashing the air menacingly.
Rocking Roll stepped back onto his cloud as The Kinks ‘You Really Got Me’ powered up. “Oh I thought you were here applying to join my band. Love your vibe but you aint what I’m looking for.” And with that he shot up into the sky leaving Popcandy and Funky-J open mouthed and confused.
“We gots to work on our ambushes,” said Funky-J looking up to the sky as Rocking Roll became a speck.
“Is he coming back?” asked Popcandy as she looked up. And nine seconds later the duo known as Duo were coated in a hail of half digested burrito, beer and bile.
To be continued...
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