30 Years of Legion of Net.Heroes (1992-2022)!

And we're back in the past and can check the eyrie archive
once again.

Here's where you can find The Secret Origin of SARCASTIC LAD (as well
as other Saint stories:

https://archives.eyrie.org/racc/lnh/Series/Saint.Squad/




And we've got Gary "Saint" St. Lawrence writing the The Secret Origin
of SARCASTIC LAD! What diabolical design did bring about the beginning
of The Acid Tongued Titan?! And is it far worse to die in an exploding hamster accident or an imploding gerbil misfortune?!

Find out in...



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|_| OF NET.HEROES

ADVENTURES #258


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The Secret Origin of SARCASTIC LAD!
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https://archives.eyrie.org/racc/lnh/Series/Saint.Squad/

From: saint@ctron.com (The Abraham Zapruder of the Debate)
Newsgroups: alt.comics.lnh
Subject: REPOST: The Secret Origin of SARCASTIC LAD
Date: 16 Dec 1993 15:11:52 GMT

*THE SECRET ORIGIN OF SARCASTIC LAD*
part I

The sun was just creeping over the horizon on the coast of the
western hemisphere of the planet Shekkee II and it was going to be a
good day. A yellow-breasted rass-bird sat on the sill outside the
bedroom of Jo-Nysegy, who had just emerged from the sonic
shower, humming some mindless tune.
Seeing the bird, he opened the window and gave it some crusts
of bread from the toast he'd eaten just before midnight. The only drawback about this, his favorite snack - all the crumbs in bed in the morning.
It was the big day - his final exam in his years upon years of schooling to become a psychologist. And it was being given by his mentor
and favorite instructor, Prof. Eym A. Jeenyus.
"Life is good," he thought as he prepared for class.
Suddenly, on the televid, came a news report of some crisis
on campus. He listened intently for names of victims and where the
crisis was happening. Maybe he could go there and help. He could
evaluate people's fears of whatever the crisis was. He could sit
on a curb and say things like, "Uh huh. And what do you think about
that?"
"Gosh, I love that kind of talk," he said.
The accident was in the Psychology Lab building. A rock formed
in Jo's gut. He feared the worst and, being so caught up in his
reaction to the news, didn't even stop to analize the fear.
When he got to Deranged Hall, the med-techs were loading
a body into the med-craft - the body of Prof. Jeenyus!
A storm began brewing in the east, the ferocious lightning
and thunderstorms which made Shekkee II anything but a vacation
stop. Jo sank to his knees, crying for the loss of his friend, his
mentor ... his guaranteed A on today's exam. He cursed the storm.
He cursed the freak exploding hamster accident which claimed the life
of Prof. Jeenyus. He cursed everyone and everything and cried to
the heavens for a way to bring the professor back.
A lightning bolt crackled and arced across the darkening
sky. It grounded on the statue of the the school's founder, which
began to glow white-hot. From the flames and smoke came a looming
figure, clad in black with glowing red eyes with a smoldering
stick hanging from its fanged jaw.
"So, ya want the old fart back, huh bunkie?" the demon-thing
snarled in a gravelly voice.
"Who ... what are you?" Jo asked between sobs.
"Waaaah, who am I? What am I? What are you, Barbara Walters?
I'm the guy what's gonna bring that old geezer back to life for ya.
Geez, leave it to me to pick all the smart ones! Get off the ground,
you hockey puck!"
The demon-thing presented a card, charred and smelling of
scorched corned beef. It read: Dahn Rrik Ulz: Demon Extraordinaire
and freelance plumber."
"D-d-demon? Why do I need help from a demon?" Jo asked.
"Nih-nih-nih-nih-nih-nyaaaaaah," Dahn Rrik Ulz snapped in mock parroting. "Just shut up and listen, you want that old moth bag to
come back dontcha? Here's all ya gotta do."
Dahn Rrik Ulz handed Jo a box. In it was a striking outfit,
all black with gold metallic accessories, a belt and a pair of bands for
the wrists.
"What do I do with this?" Jo asked.
"Were your parents related or something? Jeesh, you put it
on you goof!" The demon looked to the ground and ranted, "Why do I
bother? Can you tell me that!?!?"
"What for?" Jo ducked as the demon lashed out, swinging his
knotted fist several inches over Jo's head, an impressive feat for a
demon that stands only 3'4" tall and wears an laughably out-of-style
tuxedo, especially considering Jo being 6'2".
"He must be incredibly powerful," Jo thought.
"Of course I'm powerful you spongehead! Just put the suit on!"
The demon turned his back and crossed his short, flabby arms. "C'mon
c'mon, will ya? I gotta meet a presidential candidate in an hour!"
"I look stupid in this," Jo said.
"Of course ya do! Look, kid, if you're gonna work fer me,
you gotta stop being such a putz! Now, repeat after me: By the power
of Dahn Rrik Ulz, master of the razor-speech and Lord of the One-liner,
I dedicate myself to the humiliation and embarassment of all I
encounter."
"I'm not going to say that!"
"Aaah, you ain't gotta say it anyway. I had you the minute
you put that stupid costume on. I just like hearing it, that's all."
Now, c'mere so's I can give ya yer powers."
Jo approached the demon and winced at the smell of Aqua-
Velva. When he was just a few steps away, the demon swung and cuffed
Jo on the back of the head. He then pinched Jo's cheek and kissed
him square on the mouth."
"P-tagh! P-toooh! What the hell are you doing, you stinkin'
midget? All this and you smell like a cabbage patch in Korea!"
Jo's eyes widened with disbelief. "Did I say that?!?"
"I told ya kid! I own your scrawny butt now. Now, go out
and make me proud! There's people out there just beggin ta get
whapped. An' now that I done give ya these powers, yer the guy to
do it!"
Without another word, the demon Dahn Rrik Ulz was gone in
a flash of light and help from a stage hand, whom he slapped.
"Powers? What powers?!?" Jo called out, getting no answer.
"Jeez, the schmuck was the most obnoxious pug I ever saw. Whatta
mouth on that guy! Now what am I supposed ta do?"
Jo stamped his foot and suddenly found himself standing in
a three-foot deep ditch. He tried jumping out of the ditch and found
himself in a treetop 40 feet in the air. He started to climb down and
slipped, and found that he simply floated to the ground.
"Jeez! I really do have powers! I have super-powers!" he said
loudly. "But what do I do now? Waitaminit. I saw those guys on the
televid the other day, what were they called, the Legion of Net.
Heroes? Cheesh, what a bunch of chumps. They could have at least
come up with somethin' that didn't sound like a freakin' comic book!
I'll have to find them. Maybe those spazzes can help me find out
what to do with these powers."
Jo walked away, cursing people in his path, insulting
everyone who got in his way.
Dahn Rrik Ulz peered out from behind the statue, grinning
with ugly, yellow teeth.
"There's a price, stupo! There's a price! (insert maniacal
laughter track here, echoing ominously as the screen fades to black ...)

* * * * * * * *
part II
"COMING OF RAGE"

Despondent, Jo skulked through the darkened allies of Net.ropolis. After hours of tearing, pulling and cursing, he'd resigned himself to the
fact that his newfound costume, although a real ass-kicker in design and appearance, was seemingly melded to his body. He could not take it off.
"I can't have people knowing who I am with this *@!#*&^ thing on,"
Jo said. "I'll have to adopt a new identity, become someone other than Jo Nysegi. Just then, a municipal transit cruiser lunkered by. On its side
was a poster for an ancient, yet still-existing university in upstate
New York ... the really old part of the continent.
A nun from the nearby convent, "Our Lady of Perpetual Motion,"
passed by the distraught Net.hero-to-be.
"Good morning, young man," the nun said. "My, isn't that an
unusual outfit you have on."
"Unusual?" the lad snapped. "Look lady, the last thing I need right
now is fashion tips for a fat broad in a hefty bag with wings! Why dontcha
go peddle your communion wafers, huh?"
"Such anger," she said coolly. "Perhaps you should have a talk
with the Monsignor. He could help you divert all that anger.
"Hey! Divert THIS willya Sally Field?" he crowed. "You're a nun,
why dontcha go flying! In fact, why dontcha go take a flying &^!*@# leap
off a short *&@#($*&#@! peer!"
The nun was stunned and neared tears. She flatly and insincerely blessed the young ruffian and went on her way. "My, what a sarcastic lad
you are," she said as she turned away from him."
The words rung in the air like church bells, leaving Sarcastic Lad feeling remorseful, but far less than he had been. His fears were coming
true, he was beginning to be comfortable with his highly abrasive and
offensive new powers. "I am a sarcastic lad .. Sarcastic .. Lad?!?"
An LNH cruiser buzzed over the city, visbily marked by the
odd looking individuals who were holding onto the maneuvering fin when
they had missed the cruiser's lift off and hurried to catch a ride.
Sarc thought to himself that the LNH might be just the place
for a powerful outcast like himself. THe LNH was chock full of people
who had bizarre powers like his. He'd be right at home.
Remembering his leap to a treetop earlier in the day, Sarc
coiled his massive leg sinews and prepared to leap up to the LNH cruiser. Pouncing skyward, the mistrusting lad found that he'd leapt 12 feet into
the air and slammed his head into a window ledge.
"What the &@#!(*@#(@#!!$)*%!!!" He exclaimed. "What the hell
happened? Demon! Get your scrawny ass up here NOW! You've got some
explaining to do!!!"
In a burst of black smoke and a trademark *BAMF* stolen directly
from issue #39 of Excalibur, the dread demon Dahn Rrik Ulz appeared,
wearing painfully obsolute golfing shorts and a paisley Hawaiian shirt.
"What the &^!@$#*&^ do YOU want, you snot-nosed punk? Whatsamatter?
Yer mamma leave you in the department store again?" the demon taunted.
" ... how'd you know about .... Hey! What happened to my
strength? What'd you do, you runt?"
"You never had any strength to begin with, you cheese! I made you
leap that high this morning," Dahn Rrik Ulz fumed. "I always do that when
I screw with my disciples. Kind of an egotistical goose, if ya knows what
I'm sayin'."
"But why?" Sarc asked, holding his inclination to throttle the
little snot at bay.
"To make you look like a prize putz! Why else!" the demon said.
With that, Sarc lunged at the smelly denizen of the depths.
Dahn Rrik Ulz turned intangible and sent Sarc crashing into a tree.
"You keep that up, you moron and you won't have to worry about
scoring any chickies again You'll be even uglier than you are now!"
Dazed from his headwound, Sarc agreed to settle.
"Just tell me what you want and why you changed me into ...
into ... well, whatever the hell it is that I am now!" he said.
"`Bout time you got some smarts, punk," the demon snarled. "Now,
from here on out, you're my agent on this Earth. You're here to spread the wonderfulness that is me to all those poor suffering schmucks who go day
to day being *nice* to each other. I gave you a portion of my own power
to be the most sarcastic, arrogant, insulting cretin on the planet. I'd
do it myself, but I got babes waiting for me everyplace."
"Yeah, right. Where, in the kindergarten school yard?" Sarc
retorted.
"Hey, you're getting the hang of this, bunky," the demon said.
"I'm proud of you."
With that, the demon waved his hand and another noxious cloud
of smoke appeared. He stepped inside it and, in saying farewell to his
new young charge, "Do a good job, punk. Don't make me send the Killer
Gerbils after ya!"
"I will, demon," Sarc said. "But rest assured. I will get you
for this. I'm gonna wring your scrawny, beef-jerky neck!"
Dahn Rrik Ulz disappeared into the smoke, laughing maniaclly
as he faded from view.
"Terrific! What the hell do I do now?" Sarc thought. "Oh well,
like the scuzwad said, there are people out there to belittle. Think
I'll go find me some unsuspecting goons to loose my venomous ferocity
upon (standard comic jargon, of course)."

*****************************************************************************

And so was born Sarcastic Lad, strange marauding master of the
acidic assault, lord of the lewd language, and future hero of the LNH.

Be here for the next chilling chapter in the adventures of:

SARCASTIC LAD!

========================================================================
|Gary St. Lawrence | POCKET MAN | "Am I the only person | |saint@ctron.com | ELVIS MAN | around who thinks that|
|aka SAINT | SARCASTIC LAD | Death looks just like | |"Have Red Pen - Will - Edit" | of the LNH! | Jennifer Tilly?" |
========================================================================



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Next Week: Some more Classic LNH Stories!

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Arthur "Same Classic Channel. But Same Time? Probably not." Spitzer

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