All people, living and dead, I have horrible news. What I must report grieves me as nothing else possibly can... I find it even hard to find the words. Oh, woe is me who has been given this awful responsibility! Oh woe is we all! The Q?... my friend, mentor, and - at times - lover... has... has.... Died. Yes, let the awful news ring forth so all may know the tragedy that has befallen our world! The Q? is dead! Weep masses, weep! Our savior is gone from this world, forever taken by cruel misfortune!
How could such a shining symbol of all of over hopes and dreams have collapsed so suddenly? How could such an eternal ideal - a dream that has lasted since the birth of the universe, simply cease to be? I'm afraid that it will be up to me, the Q?'s discoverer and dearest friend, to tell its tale:
It all began as a normal day for the Q?. It awoke in its deluxe luxury condo in Jersey City's exclusive European-style community on the Hudson River, Port Liberté. Unfortunately, it had been up late that night watching the first episode of "Law & Order: Criminal Intent" and then feverishly discussing it on the Facebook Group, "Law & Order: Criminal Intent - USA NETWORK". This meant that the Q? was now already an hour late for work as a accountant for Washington Mutual, and it wasn't even out of its deluxe king size Raymore and Flanigan mattress yet. Nope, driving was definitely out of the question today. The Q? would have to
fly.
Kissing its lovely wife goodbye, the Q? jumped out the window, spun its question mark around in a wild circle, and began to sour up in the air like a helicopter. A flash of bizarre post-modernist lightning blasted across the Hudson River at super speed, over turning yachts and Staten Island Ferries as the Q? rush its way to its office on Wall Street. At this point even a horrible tragic loss of life would be preferable to the boss's thrashing. In this economy, the Q? could lose its job! It only got the job out of affirmative action: there were no other incomprehensible symbols at Washington Mutual*.
As the Q? began to fly into lower Manhattan, disaster struck. Little did the Q? know it, but an old enemy was now preparing an ambush. Many years ago, back when the Q? still was just lowercase, it had traveled to the Sages of the Jupiter to learn kung fu under Master Klo. The great master had two students, the promising Q? and a young human named Arnold. While the Q? excelled at every task, mastering all the techniques and philosophy with ease, Arnold could only lag behind, feeling jealous at his advanced peer. Eventually Arnold fell back so far that he was expelled from the planet Jupiter, leaving the same day as the Q? was given the rank of "Master". He would never forgive that slight. For the next three thousand years Arnold began plotting, and working, and scheming. He built himself a grand army of robot ninjas and zombie pirates and dinosaur vikings to prepare for his assault.
Out of nowhere, Arnold and his evil forces struck! The Q?, too focused on trying to remember the CPS reports he was supposed to be working on, was struck violently by five thousand electrified shurikens. As that second, it was clear that the Q? would have to forget about work that day, instead it was time to fight this new foe. Great and glorious was the combat. Thousands of robot ninjas, zombie pirates, and dinosaur vikings ran forward to defeat their master's arch enemy, only to be repulsed. Using its question mark as a might sword, the Q? tore asunder the great army, leaving only a devastated rabble for New York's clearly confused sanitary workers to clean up. Arnold himself, so shamed by his defeat, took his own life.
For a moment, it seemed, all would be okay. The wounds the Q? had gained during the battle were but scratches, it had had worse in its day. But there were other enemies out for Q? blood that day. Soon came the Holy Crusader Order, a secret army created by the Vatican expressly to destroy supernatural threats, such as the Q?. Arnold, it seemed, had not placed all his hopes in his own skills in defeating his old classmate, but had created an unholy alliance with all the great foes the Q? had faced in the past. There was an armada of aliens from the Planet Crux, hired by Arnold to fight the Q?. And there was the entire army of the undead, every great champion and warrior from the universe's past summoned by Hades, this smarting after the Q? cleared him out in Poker at the Christmas part three years ago. And there was the Sun Beings, creatures of pure energy that run our mother star, here to fight the Q? simply because there was nothing better to do that day.
The devastation was epic as the enemy charged in, ready to take as many casualties as possible in order to defeat the Q?. Spaceships and airships and fighter jets and giant robots all rushed in at once. But the Q? would not be struck down so easily. Out came a burst of a glorious energy, and the Q? change its font to the superpower mode: Folio Extra-Bold. Skyscrapers were thrown back and forth as the fighting intensified. It was now clear to all that this fight could end in only in the completely destruction of one side, or the Earth snapping in half from the force of immortal combat.
And yet, despite many injuries, the Q? steadily began to chop its way forward towards the enemy camp. Suddenly the other side knew, deep in its heart, that their efforts were all pointless. They had underestimated their foe, and now they all were about to be destroyed for their foolishness. Fear overtook their ranks and they began to flee towards Brooklyn.
Then, without warning, a new combatant entered the fray: the Beast, covered in blood and fire, rose like a tidal wave out of the East River. And on its head, perched with sinister glory was none other than Red Highwind, my Bizarro form, with the light of Hell in his eyes. The enemy, only moments ago shaken to their core then rallied their cause. They reversed their flight and charged forward, seeing victory at last.
And for the very first time in its eternal life, the Q? felt fear.
For another hour did it try to keep up the fight, but its wounds were too great. Covered in blows and gashes, the Q? finally did give up its pride and called for help. Clutching its question mark to the hole in its 'Q', the Q? blew the question mark like a horn, summoning its knights and allies from all four dimensions of the multiverse to come save it from this awful peril. Just then, Red Highwind, twisting in lunatic rage jumped down from the Beast and cut the question mark in half.
As the life began to flow out of the Q?'s body, we came to its aid. As it fell onto the ground, resting its broken form, we, the Majestic Order of the Knights of Unquantulatablility came forth and defeated all which had challenged our master that day. I personally gave my Bizarro, Red a gash on the face he would remember long afterwards, taking his left eye with the blow. Our losses were great. By the end of the battle, only I, the Q?, and what of the enemy host had chosen to flee with their lives were left alive. Red had run off, planning some sort of new nefarious scheme.
Though I offered the Q? help, it refused me. "Sonny, I have no time for this dieing business. I'm late for work." And just like that, its wounds were healed. That's the Q? for you. I did love its impossible nature...
But as it limped into the still-standing offices of Washington Mutual (which was odd since everything around it had been reduced to rubble in the Megiddo), I suddenly panicked. I tried to rush after it, but it was too late. The Q?'s boss, furious at his employee's tardiness, fired the Q? right at the spot. No doubt he had seen the great war that had taken place around the office, yet he did not care. Rules were rules. And anyway, his boss wanted somebody gone this week - the economy did suck after all.
Out of the office came the Q?, weeping like a child. I tried to console it, but it would have nothing of my kind words. "What will my children do now that we have no money? Will we keep our house? Will I have to sell the Bentley? Will Sharon leave me??" I tried to assure it that none of that would come to pass (lying of course) but the depression was too great for the Q?.
It stepped forward, gave me a weak smile, and then decided to end itself. It twisted its 'Q' around and then devoured itself. I was so terrified that I could not even scream. When it was done, there was nothing left of my master. Only a bit of pixie dust left on the ground and $2.35 in change for the subway ride home - which naturally I pocketed.
Now I stand here before you all, the masses who I dare not even call "Space Monkees" anymore. How can their be Space Monkees in a world without the Q?? How can there be anything without it? What am I supposed to do with myself now? Can I even keep up this blog anymore?
WHAT DO I DO NOW???????????
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* There was an interrobang, but that symbol had a clear logical rational for its existence. The Q? had tried to make friends with the interrobang and they had gone for drinks a few times, but neither had much enjoyed each other's company. Now their relationship had degraded to mere half-hearted nods of recognition as they passed each other's path. The interrobang was kind of a jerk anyway.
