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Teh Best PWP Evar!!!!!!!!8
TBPWPE8 Redux!

Okay. It’s been a long time, folks. But, here we go.

One fine, fine summer day, the sun was shining brightly over the Magical City of Answers. The entire cast of The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time was languidly enjoying their extended vacation (what’s it been, two years now? Jeez, don’t these people have jobs? Actually, no, I suppose they were fired) in a fantastically luxurious mansion thing, the only permanent residence in the entire city. Link was standing randomly in an empty room, reveling within his equally empty head. Then there came a knock at the door.

“Who is it?” Link called. The person at the door did not hear Link, however, because there was at least forty feet and five walls between the person and Link. Thus it fell to Zelda to answer the door.

“Telegram,” said the person at the door that Zelda answered after she had opened it and revealed to all the person on the other side of it. The person, whom we will call José, handed her a yellow envelope.

The young Princess of Hyrule opened the envelope and examined its contents. Or at least she would have if the envelope had had any contents which it didn’t. “Um?” she said.

“I’m sorry,” said José, “that wasn’t the telegram. Here you are,” he said, handing Zelda a winning lottery ticket. Before she could say anything, the delivery guy realized the error of his ways and snatched the ticket from Zelda’s hands and gave her another yellow envelope. “That is your telegram.”

Zelda opened that envelope, too. There was a piece of paper inside. On the piece of paper were some words. She read the words aloud. She said. “TODAYS DATE STOP. TO LINK OF HYRULE AND COMPANY STOP. FROM CHAPEL GUYS STOP. ATTN THE WEDDING THINGY STOP. ITS BROKEN STOP. FOREVER STOP. SORRY STOP.” When she realized what she had said she said darn stop. Thats bad news stop. Now Link and I cant get married stop. At least not in town stop.

Gah stop! Stop it stop! For crying out loud stop this is not a freaking telegram!

My apologies, faithful readers. Let us continue.

“Well,” said Zelda. “That sucks.”

“I quite agree,” said Link in a moment of heightened intellectuality.

Immediately The Boss burst into the house, accidentally knocking over José. The telegram delivery person did not mind a lot, though, as he was wearing kneepads and had gone so long without being knocked over on a job that he considered somebody running into him a matter of course. He slipped away unnoticed.

“Guys, guys!” said The Boss. “I have great news!”

“The Oskaloosa Flying Beavers have won the Stanley Cup Bowl Cup?” Link guessed as he ran into the room.

“No, guess again!” The Boss commanded.

Zelda’s guess was slightly more plausible. “Hell froze over?”

The Boss was about to tell her she was wrong, but remembered that, too, had happened recently. “Word travels fast, I guess, but that’s not what I was talking about.”

Impa cut in, appearing randomly from another section of the house. “Oh, those poor demons. Somebody should send them a blanket. Or a new furnace.”

“They’ll be fine. Now, I’ll just wait here until everybody—”

Suddenly all the other members of the group Our Heroes showed up.

“—gets here. Well. Okay. I just got a letter from the Board of Directors and he says that somebody staged a riot calling for the return of the classic ‘Teh Best PWP Evar!!!!!!!’ series.”

A cricket chirped while Our Heroes smiled expectantly.

“That’s you guys.”

“Hooray!” said The Boss’ anxious audience.

“I’ve got my helicopter here, we’ll take you to the place where they’ll be filming.” So they all crammed into a helicopter the way they cram men’s socks into their plastic shrink wrap: really, really tightly and uncomfortably. But it didn’t matter as they were en route to their new old job!

Let’s do a quick roll call.

Ganondorf—what do you want?
Darunia—somebody’s foot is in my face.
Dr. Death—yar!
The Boss—yep.
Ruto—wasn’t she dead? Oh well, she’s here now. Only sleeping. Curses.
Rauru—somebody has my foot in their face.
Did I miss anyone?
Um… you didn’t call my name.
And who are you?
I’m Santa!
Santa Claus?
No, just Santa.
Well, I’m afraid you’re in the wrong class. Get lost, kid.
All right, that’s everybody.

The unidentified Santa left the helicopter and plummeted down, down, down to his untimely demise. Poor kid.

Now, it so happened as they were passing over an ambiguous body of water, Earth was plunged into a time-stasis pod wherein everything on it, including the narration of this story and the attention spans of the readers, was in slow motion. During this time, a technologically advanced society rose up and spanned the very universe with a utopian community.

In an isolated corner of the universe, the notoriously reactionary League for the Protection of the Universe from Helicopters was holding a meeting.

“Helicopters are lazy and shiftless!” said the chairman.

“Yar,” said the other aliens in the room.

“They lead sinful, sedentary lives!”


“Their art is corrupting our children!”


“They are undermining the very fabric of the Alien lifestyle!”


“There’s only one thing we can do to combat this menace: Kill every helicopter! Burn them, throw them in a mass grave, and put salt on the land!”

And so the Anti-Helicopter fools formed a galactic lynch posse and purged from the universe every helicopter, including the ones Our Heroes were riding. The trans-galactic utopia was plunged into rebellion and anarchy by their actions. Extinction filled the universe.

And then the time stasis bubble was lifted from Earth.

Down, down, down, down, down, Our Heroes plummeted. Link opened his eyes and saw the sky.

“Ugh…. What happen?” he asked.

“Somebody set up us the bomb,” Malon, who was already awake, said.

“What you say?” Link demanded.

“You have no chance to—” then she came to her senses. “Wow. What did just happen?”

“I think,” said the Boss, noticing the lack of wreckage and the fact that none of them were wet at all despite the fact that there was a shoreline nearby, “the helicopter was removed in an unlawful racist crusade and we crash-landed on this island. But what sort of an island is it?”

It was, in fact, a dessert island.

Our Heroes gave a collective “Hooray!”

Wait, wait. That was a typo. It was a desert island.

Our Heroes gave their narrator, Bongo Bill, collective puppy-dog-eyes.

Oh, how can I refuse that? It was a dessert island after all! But before you go on celebrating, I’m putting you all on a diet. Except Saria. She’s a kid. You can’t put a kid on a diet. Besides, she practically lives on candy anyway.

Our Heroes were very disgruntled. They decided that their first order of business would be to find something healthy to eat. After hours of scouring the entire island, they found plenty of pie and gummi bears and chocolate and all that good stuff they weren’t allowed to have, but not so much as a speck of anything good for you. Fortunately, they found that the water was drinkable.

“I’m going to try to catch a fish,” said Link. But, try as he might, the fishing pole rental guy was nowhere to be found, so that plan was hopeless.

Saria ran off into the sugar-coated jungles of delicious sinful goodies around sunset.

All retired for the night under the shelter of a succulent forbidden giant Oreo.

Day four. The Boss awoke early. Despite the hunger already gnawing at his belly, he was inspired. He was going to speak in front of the disillusioned castaways.

“Guys,” he said, “we gotta find something we can eat around here. The Doctor here can eat Ruto if she gets out of hand, ‘cause he’s a vampire and we all hate her anyway, but other than that I don’t think we have other options in terms of cannibalism.”

“I agree,” said Link, even though he wasn’t really listening. He was imagining Ruto broiled on a platter with a vegetable-based baste covering the less gristly parts of her white meat, a grapefruit in her mouth, sitting next to a random salad with low-fat dressing, with himself thinking, “It wouldn’t be cannibalism. It would be doing the world a service!”

His daydreaming was cut short when The Boss kept up his pep talk. “We’re not allowed to eat the food here, but we can still build with it. We’re going to get as many Tootsie Rolls as we can find and build a raft, and maybe try to find—hey, where’s Nabooru?”

A search party was organized, but it wasn’t a very fun party. It only had one game: try to find Nabooru.

Link was searching alone when he found the Gerudo hunched under a tree in the jungle and making a weird noise. “There you are, Nabooru. What are you doing?”

She flinched at the sound of his voice. Something fell from her hands.

It was a gumdrop the size of your head. With bite marks all over it.

Link looked at the gumdrop, then at Nabooru, then back at the gumdrop, then back at Nabooru, then just a few more times, and finally his starved brain put two and two together. “You…” he said. “You filthy little… cheater!” Nabooru was too terrified to break down and cry, but she might have. “You pig! Just look at you, fatty. You cheated on your diet!” Nabooru’s eyes, if possible, grew even wider with fear. “You betrayed us all!” Link drew his sword. “There’s only one punishment for traitors!”

“Link! What are you doing?” Darunia’s voice bellowed out from the jungle as the Goron stepped into the clearing.

“I’m killing a traitor!”

Darunia grabbed Link’s arms from behind, restraining him. “Have you gone mad?”

“Let me go! She’s a traitor! She can’t go free!”

The Boss and Zelda, who were nearby, came. “We heard screaming,” said Zelda, “and—Link!”

“Get him off me! She’s a traitor! A cheater! She deserves to die! Get him off me!”

“Help!” said Darunia. “He’s gone crazy! I can’t hold him much longer!”

The Boss rushed to Darunia’s aid. Zelda, however, did not. She was quite busy wondering, “Why? Why, Link? Why?” and saying the same thing softly to herself.

“I know why,” said The Boss. “It’s this diet. It’s getting to us all. We need to get off this island and get to a health food store or something.”

Link was brought back to the shore and put in a makeshift strait jacked.

Day six. Impa awoke bright and early to find something washed up on shore. “Everybody! Wake up! It’s a miracle!” When everybody was awake, except Link who was still crazy and Nabooru who was still traumatized, she announced, “A giant loaf of bread has washed up on shore!”

Rauru expected to hear somebody call her crazy, but his finely tuned nose detected something. Then he saw it. “She’s right! We’re saved! Oh, we’re saved!”

For indeed, an enormous loaf of bread, at least as long as Darunia and proportioned accordingly, was simply sitting half in the water.

Not so fast, the narrator narrated.

“What is it now, Bill?” The Boss asked me.

You’re on the Atkins Diet! No complex carbohydrates for you!

Everyone, even Link and Nabooru, let out a collective “Nooooooooooo!” that seemed to stretch on to infinity until Saria came out of the jungle, seemingly healthy but with chocolate smeared all over her face and maybe her clothing didn’t fit quite as well any more.

“What’s going on, guys?” she asked. They explained. Then she announced, “Wait a minute, there might be a way to get off the island.”

“HOW?” everybody demanded.

“Well, the water on the shore is fresh water, right? Well, that means that this island is in a freshwater lake! We can swim in any direction, and we’ll find shore!”

Several days later, Link was sitting in the office of a newspaper, trying to sell the editor his story. All the rest of Our Heroes were sitting there, too. They had been granted a reprieve on their diet once they reached shore. Which is ironic.

“Look, kid,” the editor was saying, “it’s a nice story and all, but it’s just not true. There’s no dessert island in that lake. It’d make a fine short story if you found someone to write it.”

So I did.

“It sucks that we didn’t get paid for that,” said the ever-money-conscious Nabooru.

“Yeah,” agreed everybody with a sigh.

They were sitting in a random café thingy, munching on scones or bagels or coffee.

Somewhere off in the distance, a dog barked.

Malon coughed.

After a while she followed it up with, “Hey guys, weren’t we supposed to be going somewhere?”

Suddenly The Boss’ cell phone rang. I made a mental note to have somebody say to him, ‘You mean you had that thing the whole time on the dessert island and you never thought of using it?’ and then have him reply, ‘The batteries were dead.’ And then the first person says, ‘Oh.. Well I guess that’s okay.’ But I never got around to it.

“Hello?” he said, answering the phone. “Uh-huh… yeah. We’re at the corner of 32nd and The End of the World…. Right, that’s the place. Yeah, you already read that one? No, we’re fine now. Yeah. And his other brother Darryl. Right then. See ya. We’ll be there as soon as we can. Make sure they don’t cancel on us.” Then he hung up.

“What was that about?” Link asked.

The Boss replied simply, “We were supposed to be renewing the Teh Best PWP Evar!!!!!!! contract before we crashed on that island. So, we’re running late now. However, there are no helicopters left in the world and we still have another four hundred miles to go.”

“Well,” said Link, “we could hitchhike.”

“No,” Zelda, said, “I think it would be better if we just walked. Hitchhikers can be pretty creepy sometimes, and I don’t want to be creepy.”

“Maybe we could hijack the Goodyear Blimp?” Darunia suggested.

“That,” said Malon, “is the dumbest idea I’ve heard all day. Let’s do it.”

During the off-season, the Goodyear Blimp is stored, deflated, in a high-security compound.

That ought to have been nothing for Our Heroes, but there was one thing they didn’t know.

This was no ordinary high-security compound.

It had ninjas.

Lots and lots of ninjas.

By virtue of his group’s inferior numbers, Link managed to be successfully captured and thrown in the Goodyear Blimp compound’s dungeon. He didn’t see too much of how his comrades had fared, but he took solace in knowing that at least he had watched Ruto die.


Will Link escape from his ninja-riddled prison? Well, yes, of course he will, but the question is, How? What has befallen Our Heroes? Are any of them alive? Well, I mean aside from Link, of course. We know he’s alive. I was referring, quite naturally, to the ones we don’t know anything about. For that matter, what does his cell look like? Is there an obvious escape route, or will he have to kill somebody to make this story any good? Well, yes, because it wouldn’t be much of a story if nobody died. But will it be a ninja?

And what of that dessert island? How could it not exist, as the editor claims, when Link and co. were just there? Just what is the editor hiding? I mean, aside from the dirty magazines he keeps stashed in his desk.

Tune in next time, for the exciting continuation of…

Teh Best PWP Evar!!!!!!!

Cue theme music. Roll the credits.

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