Intermission. The casual observer enters the stage fiddling with a bunch of papers, gets tangled in some cables and looses his footing, falling on hands and knees while papers fly away but the audience has seen it before. He gets up, confused, bare-assed but oblivious to the spectacle he's making.

Finally at the microphone, papers sorted, he opens his mouth and yawns...
-"Sorry", he clears his throat and spits on the sawdust floor. "Ladies & Gentlemen! There has been complaints about the recent twists in this, what shall I call it, drama... Yes! A drama it is. Hm, there have been a steady stream of characters appearing rather haphazardly throughout the production, myself included. And I would like to adress the writers that introduced us to the enigmatic Mogfelat and the masterful Ligferrat, aka Mog & Lig; mainly "ichtms" and "nyanchan". I don't really... Really know; Ahum, yes. Mr. ichtms; I've received some anonymous messages from quote, concerned citizens of nation X, unquote, that have been of a very foul unclean language laden with expressions that I suspect could only be described as obscenities and their point of concern being the apparent and alarming lack of logic and proportion, shown in segments by Mr. ichtms. They say quote, Wea will not hesetat to take acton againts this pore exuse fore a wrighter if the person dosn't stop poluting our fign Engish langage (sic), unquote, and I am now appealing to you, Mr. ichtms. Please, better yourself by thinking twice before you add new contents to the drama and... Yes, no! Oh, right. Ms. nyanchan! I have recieved one extremely illiterate note on your use of certain words that I'm not going to comment on as it is apparent that the writer is out of their mind or have a very poor vision... Yes, well, about the words... The words in question all begin with the letter "z", so if you could have that in mind so to say, and possibly find alternatives, that would be fine..."

A few minutes later.

caca caca caca caca caca
never mind
I am in the wrong theatre...

Now getting back to the story, we see a big cloud of dust in the distance. But wait, it seems to be getting closer and closer....

and it's getting closer fast as eeeeuuuuuwwwwWWWMMBiii... Godness Grace! It's Cornad! That flatbed truck! I've seen it before. I know it. It's Hoffmans truck!!! And Mog & Lig on tow on rollerblades. They must be gunning for the world record in

Blade-Rocketing...  Both Mog and Lig were anticipating a long stone ramp that was just beginning to appear amid the mist in the Dell ahead...

Side note:  Ramp constructed by Beammeup from the remains of a recently destroyed nearby castle, results of a: “Beam me down” event (Won’t miss the castle... they have several over there in the UK).

The tethers were tight and vibrating between gripped hands, and Conrad’s truck that was quickly gaining speed. As they wildly swayed to and fro, both were smiling with raucous joy; for they knew it was this duo, made of them, that would break the record.

As they reached the ramp, their Blades were fire-red with heat from spinning speeds in excess of 7 to the seventh.   Though the ramp was a gentle 7-degree incline for 77’, it ended with an abrupt change in direction at the top. A short arc presented a climatic 77- degree-angle fling aimed towards a dark eastern sky; Landing them, not only with the record...

(Side note: Flunked writing 101... somebody please put a dash between "gripped hands," and erase the comma...) Phittt....

... Landing them separated by distances vast in geography, and in Time...

They left the ramp in an aura of flowing blue/violet light; Seconds after, the eastern-sky lit-up with a thunderous flash. The jolt separated Mog and Lig during their accent towards their quest: a glowing, undulating gaseous-ring floating high in the sky. Mog and Lig were spinning out of balance as they approached, and each lunged wildly to regain stability. Their trajectory now askew, fleeting thoughts of failure loomed with each.

As the sounds of rumbling thunder faded, they neared the entrance to an unexplored world they wanted to share together. Lig, nimble, slowed and was able to adjust as the moment of entry neared; she could see success before her, growing in size... Mog, still spinning, and ahead of Lig now, careened off the outer edge of the ring, spiraling downward...

Another thunderous flash shook the landscape as Lig entered the ring.

Mog regained control and was able to deploy his large chute to safely land where he had begun...

Meanwhile, Lig...

(time for me to go get serious with the DX thread... Saw my doc today)...

...looked down with a cry of alarm and spied a trail of orange flame eminating from his blades. "Yegads! How did that happen?!"

He was spinning. Spinning like wind in a funnel and losing all hope of escape, when...

Weird Al reappeared, grinning maniacally and singing "Everything You Know Is Wrong".

(The Play resumes as the chatter from the peanut-gallery subsides...)

...a thunderous explosion announced HIS exit from tunnel that he had just entered moments before... (Side note: This author thought he was a she... I should have read earlier excerpts... )

Meanwhile Mog (a he I assume...), on the ground and still dazed from his spinning decent, heard a distant faint-clap of thunder. He looked to the east with questioning eyes. Rising to his feet, he was distracted by the sound of Hoffman’s truck rumbling in the distance and headed in his direction. Mog started yelling: “Conrad, Conrad!!! A shout came from the cockpit as Conrad pulled up: “What happened?!”.
“I don’t know!” ... Mog desperately asked: “When will the next portal opening occur?”
©“On the Winter Solstice, yet a fortnight away”
(M)“Will we be ready?”
© “yes, though the coordinates will change, I’m certain a new ramp can be constructed by then” (peanut-gallery: Let’s hope it won’t cost us another Castle...).

Lig... (I so want Lig to be a her...) also dazed by his landing, took a few minutes to regain full awareness of his surroundings. (Unknown to Lig is that we are now 77 years in the future.) As Lig looks around he feels the air is thin, and is slightly gasping for breath. Finds himself sitting in the middle of an open pasture full of tall green grass, on a warm summer day, with bright sunshine and a sky that is a deep hue of blue with no clouds; a slight breeze touches her presence (I’m changing him to a her. Hah! A novel needs the romance element if anyone is going to read it!!!).

Several house-sized glass domes are in the distance, located in a Dell that looks very much like the one she left behind 77 years ago. She stood up and began walking towards them...

But then she tripped over a large red and yellow and white mushroom that sprang out of the ground just that moment.

(The peanut-gallery, now getting bored with the pace of the play was throwing rotten red and yellow mushrooms at the stage...

Actress Lig, recovering from her fall, grabbed the rotten declaration and chucked it back to the noisy balcony...

The Stage Manager, with script-changes to quell in hand, was frantically running about when... whooahhhh-kr-thud....slipped on a mushroom and was knocked unconscious...)

The play resumes later...  

With the reappearance of Weird Al, who put down his piano accordion for a moment to help Lig to her feet. "Hey, I wrote a new song just for you", he said smilingly, "It goes like this...". He reached down to pick up his piano accordian only to find Mog had run off with it and was quickly fading into the distance.

"Aw rats!" he exclaimed in complete exasperation - "There's always got to be one person who doesn't appreciate my wonderful polkas! Oh,and that squeeze Box cost serious pazoola".

"Never mind", replied Lig - "He's kind of a friend of mine. I'll simply tell him I won't be his friend any more if he doesn't give it back".

The Stage Manager, still unconscious...

Weird Al steps forward to assure the audience that the Play will resume shortly...

Actor Mog returned after a few minutes thinking it was time for his performance in Seventh Act, exclaiming he was obsessed and fascinated with a piano that one could strap to their person... and suggested a crowd-quelling tune while everyone was waiting for the stage manager to wake... though he knew not a single polka tune appropriate for the occasion...

Fortunately, there was a nearby PC connected to the Internet. A quick search produced: “Happy music for Happy People” in several languages: http://www.polkacatalog.com
Still without a clue, he turned to....  

Wierd AL.... as Weird Al exclaims: “You don’t know who I am?”!

"Ahhh... a polka guy.... right?"

"Wrong!"

"Oh..."  says Actor Mog, with a poised daft quality. "Give me a minute to search the internet again..."  

"Oops...didn’t have a clue... What track from: Straight Outta Lynwood would the audience like to hear...?"