"Well, I may not know
how that plane got here," you declare, "but I can tell you this: William
Shatner was definitely not on the plane." It's not too far from the
truth when you really think about it. After all, how was it that William
Shatner was able to jump back in time to when he didn't need a system of
bungee cords to hold up his sagging manboobs? Did he sacrifice his color
to do so? Did he have to agree to love only men, because he was sure
giving you some looks back on that plane? Whatever the reason, your
explanation does nothing to ease the tension between you and the
mysteriously un-aged Lynda Carter.
"Enough of this silly
man-banter. Answer my question, or prepare to be smote by me and my
mighty Amazon horde."
You feel obliged to inform her that she should have said, "my Amazon
horde and me," but before you can make a grammar teacher of yourself,
Carter spots a small piece of skin near her boot. In a quick move, she
hooks her boot under it and kicks it up into her hand for closer
examination.
"By my mother's beard, this is a piece of John Lithgow. Why didn't you
tell me he was onboard the plane? Nevermind, I've got to find him, and
fast!"
With that, Carter bounds toward the plane and starts tearing through the
aircraft aluminum with her bare hands. Terrified by her immeasurable
strength, not to mention her getup from the 1970s, you race toward the
cover of the jungle, hoping that if you do encounter any more Amazons
that they turn out to be less like the man-hating, castration-oriented
Amazons and more like the beautiful, sex-crazed, episode-of-Star-Trek-when-the-crew-goes-to-the-planet-run-by-women-in-go-go-boots
kind of Amazon.
Luckily (or not
luckily, if you're an optimist), you encounter no such groups of deadly
she-hulks. Now that you have some time to think, that was the second
youth-ized celebrity that you've encountered since your trip began. Not
only that, but they all were either coming to Paradise Island, or were
already there. Then again, maybe this was just supposed to be a stopover
for Shatner. After all, that's the price you pay for naming your own
price on airline tickets. Maybe Priceline sucked the color out of him…
Well, whatever. At least Lithgow was normal. It's too bad you didn't
have a chance to ask him if he was aware of the strange goings on around
here.
Oh crap, what if Carter thinks that you got him killed? The last thing
you want is a crazed Amazon pursuing you through the jungle. Maybe you
should go back and explain everything. Then again, maybe trying to
reason with a grief-stricken celebrity is the dumbest idea you've ever
brain-farted into existence. Maybe you could look for her Amazon
companions to act as intermediaries so that she doesn't kill you
outright. Maybe you should just try and put more distance between you
and Carter. Maybe you should head back into town. Maaaaaaaybe, you'll
think of meeeeeee.
