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Narbonic	Artie: I hate that this Dave doesn't like me. / Mell: At least he's not staring down your shirt all the time. / Artie: He does that? / Mell: He hasn't looked me or Helen in the face since he thawed. I forgot Dave used to be such a foob. / Artie: I had no idea... / Mell: Yeah, it was totally up to us ladies to civilize him. / Artie: What an unsettling thought. / Mell: New Dave has way slower reflexes, too. http://moderntales.com/series.php?name=narbonic&view=current
	[[Lab in shambles, Dav buried in rubble up to his chin]] / Helen: You're hired! / Helen: Hey! That was a pretty decent doomsday machine! / Helen: Apparently, it drew down a massive bolt of lighning to incinerate us! Fascinating! / Helen: I bet with a little tinkering we could get it to REALLY roast us! Where's Mell? / Mell: In here. Under the rubble. / Helen: See if you can find my Rolodex. / Helen: Look, Mell! The doomsday machine worked! Isn't it neat? / Mell: Sure did a number on the lab, tho. / Helen: Oh, yeah. That. / Mell: But that just makes it COOLER! / Helen: Now, Mell. We were getting a good rate on that space. / Helen: Hmph. I can't say battling heroes isn't hard on a private lab. / Mell: But still a victory for mad science! / (off-panel): ...Narbon... / Dr. Noah: It's me... Dr Noah from downstairs... I pulled myself from the rubble to deliver one last message... / Dr. Noah (holds phone handset up): It's the landlord... you've been evicted. / Helen: What? / Helen (into phone): THIS IS GENTRIFICATION! DISCRIMINATION AGAINST SMALL BUSINESS! I'M CALLING THE FREE PRESS! / Mell: Gimme the phone. I'll order a hoagie for the wrap party. / Antonio Smith: The wind bites shrewdly as I gaze at the smoking ruin of what was once a den of evil and poor sentence structure. ... ruined now, thanks to ANTONIO SMITH, FORENSIC LINGUIST! ... Ah, but what of it? / Antonio Smith: "The learned pate Ducks to the golden fool: all is oblique..." How right you were, Timon of Athens! And now, my work here done, I must hang my hat and return to my mild-mannered academic life.... / Antonio Smith: Life's but a poor player... and so, alas, is ANTONIO SMITH... / Helen: He is soooo cool. / Mell: We should invite him back when we have a lab again. / Dave: I think he stole my lighter. / Dave: AAAAAAARGH!!! How did this happen? / Dave: One minute I'm applying for a job, the next minute I'm decimating everything within a half-mile radius! I've got to escape this vortex of evil! I - I - gasp / Helen: Come on, Dave. Let's get a beer. / Dave: Okay. / [Mell, Helen, and Dave walking off through the rubble into the sunset] / Helen: We've got him. / Dave: You're paying.
	TV:Police remain unable to stop Lupin Madblood's brilliant but very evil crime spree... / Mell: So it's us against Madblood, huh? I foresee violence. / Dave:You think we can take ona mad professor? / Mell: I think so. I mean, we're pretty evil, and Helen's an evil genius... but it doesn't pay to underestimate another mad scientist. / Dave: I try not to. / Mell: They're tricky buggers - full of cunning schemes, foul plots, and strange and secret powers! / Dave: What powers? / TV: "Mad, they called me! Mad!" laughed Professor Madblood, shortly before leaping into a jet-black helicopter and vanishing. / Helen: Sigh / Mell: I dunno, Helen. What are you going to do with the Crystal of Marinia even if you steal it? / Helen: I'll use it as part of the power source for the cellular destabilizer I'm working on. / Helen:It'll break down the polysaccharides in the walls of human cells, cauing the subject to dissolve into a gooey mush in under 30 seconds. / Mell: Huh. What do you think Professor Madblood wants to do with it? / Helen: Madblood? Oh, I don't know... I mean, why would I even CARE - although I'm sure he has something fantastic up his sleeve... / Mell: 30 seconds? I can do way better than that. / Helen: What? What did I say? I think I went into some kind of fugue state...
	Helen: Mom, this is Mell, my intern. / Mell. I'm an evil intern! / Dr. Narbon: Evil, huh? Picture Ernest Borgnine and Ralph Nader naked with a bottle of baby oil. / Mell: ARRRRGH! / Dr. Narbon: Heh heh heh. / Dr. Narbon: Amatuer (sic) / Mell: I want to be her. / Helen: It's no picnic. / Mell: Dr. Narbon, you're even more evil than your daughter! / Dr. Narbon: Of course I am. I'm the original. / Mell: Will you teach me your evil ways? / Dr. Narbon: It's pretty simple, kiddo. You just make people think you harbor dark and fearsome secrets. / Mell: How do I do that? / Dr. Narbon: Heh heh heh / Mell: What's the secret? Why won't you tell me? / Helen: It's going to take you a while to get the hang of this. / Mell: Helen's mom is teaching me to be more evil! / Dave: That certainly sounds like a situation I don't want to involve myself in. / Mell: She taught me the first rule of evil behavior. Want to see? / Dave: Sure. / Mell: Heh heh heh. / Dave: Are you okay? Do you need a lozenge? / Mell: No! That was my mysterious and forboding cackle! / Dave: Sorry. Guess I'm not evil enough to appreciate it.
	{{04-09-01}} / [[Mell speaking agitatedly to Dr. Narbon.]] / Mell: Dr. Narbon! Your lessons aren't working! You said the first rule of evil is to make people think you harbor dark secrets beyond human ken. But nobody believes me! / Dr. Narbon: That, kiddo, is because you don't know the second rule. / Mell: What's the second rule? / [[Exeunt Dr. Narbon panel left, chuckling.]] / Dr. Narbon: Heh heh heh. / [[Mell stares. Enter Dave and Helen. Helen's t-shirt appears to read 'NUNS ON FIRE 2001 TOUR']] / Helen: The second rule is to actually _know_ dark secrets beyond human ken. / Dave: And she's got the cackle down pat. / {{04-10-01}} / [[Mell is speaking to Dr. Narbon, who is facing slightly away from her and sipping wine.]] / Mell: Dr. Narbon, I think I understand your lessons now. Evil isn't just about cackling. It's about keeping people on their toes. It's - / <> / [[Dr. Narbon's wineglass flies up in the air as she swivels and two-handedly fires a ray gun at Mell. Mell dives under the beam.]] / Mell: Yipe! / <> / [[The wineglass lands neatly in Dr. Narbon's hand as she turns and exits left, wine in one hand and a smoking gun in the other.]] / Dr. Narbon: Heh heh heh. / [[Mell stares.]] / [[Mell stands up, fist upraised, index finger pointing upwards resolutely. Helen, with Artie on her shoulder, peeps in from the side of the panel.]] / Mell: Thanks, Dr. Narbon! I'm going to get out my grenade launcher and practice like I should! / Helen: Enough roughhousing, you two! Somebody just shot a hole in my tank of nerve gas! / {{04-11-01}} / [[Helen and Dr. Narbon are standing behind Dave as he sits at his computer. Helen is back in the classic "evil-heart" shirt.]] / Helen: And this is Dave. He handles my computer stuff. / Dr. Narbon: Dave? / Dave: Yup. / Dr. Narbon: (from off-panel) Dave _Davenport_? / Dave: Yeeeees... / Dr. Narbon: Heh heh heh. / [[Dr. Narbon exits left.]] / [[Dave stares after her. Mell stands behind him, holding a grenade and sipping something through a straw.]] / Dave: That doesn't bode well, does it? / Mell: You have no idea. / {{04-12-01}} / [[Dr. Narbon is speaking to Dave, who is sitting at his computer.]] / Dr. Narbon: So you're Dave. I always wondered when we'd meet up again. You don't look half bad at this age. / Dave: What are you talking about? / Dr. Narbon: (sips wine) Tell me, Dave, do you know much about time travel? / Dave: Only theory. Why? / [[Dr. Narbon exits left.]] / Dr. Narbon: Heh heh heh. / [[Dave is now standing and talking to Helen, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb, presumably in the direction Dr. Narbon went. / Dave: When she does that cackle, it's just to mess with my mind, right? / Helen: I only wish that were so. What is it this time? / [[Helen's t-shirt now says something different and difficult to decipher; the top line is apparently 'Aphrodite' and the bottom is 'IN CONCERT,' but the middle line is distorted by her cleavage. Curse you, Narbon cleavage!]] / {{04-13-01}} / [[Dr. Narbon is looking in the freezer of an ordinary-looking refrigerator. There are surprisingly few magnets on it, given Helen's established cutesiness; we can see a turtle (?) and a possibly cyclopic smiley-face. Helen is speaking to her back.]] / Helen: Mom, I've been getting complaints from my employees that you're... well... freaking them out. Could you please not disrupt the ambience of the lab? / [[Note: Helen's shirt now reads LIPGLOSS CONSPIRACY 1999 TOUR. Make of that what you will.]] / [[Dr. Narbon puts some ice in her wine and half faces Helen.]] / Dr. Narbon: Heh heh heh. / [[Helen is looking away and frowning slightly.]] / Helen: That doesn't work with me, Mom. I grew up on it. / [[Dr. Narbon exits left, chuckling. Helen has her hands clamped over her ears and her eyes raised heavenwards.]] / Dr. Narbon: Heh heh heh. / Helen: I'M NOT LISTENING! LA LA _LA_ LA LA! / [[Helen, alone on panel, leans against the right side of the strip.]] / Dr. Narbon: (From offstage) Heh, I say. / Helen: (staring at the fourth wall and frowning) This is how she used to get me to eat creamed corn. / {{04-14-01}} / [[Helen, in "evil" shirt, is showing Artie, in his terrarium, to Dr. Narbon.]] / Helen: Oh - and I guess you've met Artie, my latest experiment. He has the I.Q. of 1.17 Stephen Hawkings! / Dr. Narbon: He the one that tried to take over your lab? / [[Dr. Narbon faces Helen and looks stern.]] / Helen: Well... yes. But he's promised not to do it again. / Dr. Narbon: What have I always said? Never create anything smarter'n you. They get ideas. / [[Helen and Dr. Narbon have exited off to the left. Artie, holding some short of sheet of paper, watches as they leave.]] / Helen: (off-panel) Mom, please - / Dr. Narbon: I'm just tellin' you. Superintelligent[,] lifeforms, they _gravitate_ toward crazy, hopeless plans for world dominion... / [[Artie puts a sticker up on his terrarium wall; it bears a globe and the words NADER IN '04.]] / Artie: Heh heh heh

Narbonic	[[A fresh grave. A sign tacked to a board says "Dave Davenport (evil computer guy)"]] / Helen (Out of frame): Hi Dave. I thought about you when my computer froze today. / Helen: I was just hoping that, wherever you are now, you're happy. / Helen: . . . / [[Dave standing near some after-life gates]] / Dave: In case you're wondering, not a chance. / / [[Dave at the back of a long line leading to gates]] / Dave (thinking): I guess I'm supposed to get in line, Huh. / Dave (thinking): So... a long line to the Pearly Gates and a guy with wings taking names. It's like I've transmigrated to a New Yorker cartoon. Sad, really. / [[Dave now at the front of the line]] / Dave (thinking): Still, I guess I'd better not rock the boat when things could be much worse- / Caliban: Good evening. I'm Caliban, backup standard-bearer to Prince Dagon of the Unholy Council of Thirteen. Sign here and print your Social Security number. / Dave: Oh, d- / Caliban: Precisely. Don't hold up the queue. / / [[At the gates of Hell]] / Dave: Are you really a demon? You don't look like to hellish. / Caliban: pfft We're shapeless and can take any form. I do the wings, mate. / Dave: This is pretty shoddy service. If I'm going to Hell, I should get actual demonic-looking demons. / Caliban: You mean - / [[Caliban as a horible, three eyed demon]] / Caliban: LIKE THIS? / <> / [[Caliban back to normal]] / Dave: Yes! Just like that! Can you snort fire? / Caliban: Do you have any idea how hard it is not to laugh when I make that face? / / [[Caliban reading a titled INCOMDIO]] / Caliban: Well, this is unusual. I can't find you in today's list of fresh souls. / Dave: Really? What do I do? / Caliban: Typical procedure is to go back to the end of the queue and wait again. / Dave: What? That's ridiculous! I want in and I want in now! / Caliban: Oh, if you insist... / Dave: No. Wait. Forget I said that. / Caliban: You twisted my arm. Let me introduce you to the inner circles of Hell. / / <> / Caliban: Hello? Oh, Mr. Wasoto. Sorry for the holdup in the line... I've got one that isn't in the guestbook. / Caliban: ...No, no, he doesn't look like upstairs material. / Caliban: Check the records? I'll need someone to cover for me here at the Gate... Sorry, sir, but it's hardly my fault if Duke Gomory of the 26 Legions is on holiday... / Dave: Demons carry cell phones? / Caliban: Was there ever any doubt? / Dave: Demons carry cell phones that play "My Heart Will Go On"? / Caliban: It's those little extra touches that make our organization the best in the business. / / [[Walking through Hell]] / Dave: So... um... this is it. You really do torture people for all eternity. / Caliban: Only the deserving. / Caliban: We get only the most despicable dregs of the mortal plane, the souls utterly without virtue. / Sir Pounce: mew. / Dave: Hey! That's Helen's kitten! That's Sir Pounce! / Caliban: Is it? Small world. / Sir Pounce: meep. / Dave: YOU CAN'T SENTENCE SIR POUNCE TO ETERNAL TORMENT! / Caliban: It was an evil kitten. We can't give leniency for cuteness. http://moderntales.com/series.php?name=narbonic&view=archive&chapter=228
Narbonic: Burning Gerbil	[[Desert vista, long black road, distant person walking]] / Zeta Vincent (thinking): I'm hitchhiking via artcars deep into bugger-all, Nevada, when I start to consider a radical reevaluation in my plans for this week. / Zeta Vincent (thinking): See, not three days ago I accepted a contract with a certain alternative weekly to whitness this proud nation's largest aggregation of arthritic hippies, babbling ex-ravers, fringier-than-thou artistes, and all other frustrated Creatives of the breed that glue poker chips to their Yugos. / Zeta Vincent (thinking): Over the phone I expressed reservations reguarding the assignment. "Come on Zeta," my editor replied "Why wouldn't the hottest new journalist of the tongue-tattoo generation want to cover Burning Man?" / Why, indeed? / Dana: [[Leaning out of a hippie's beard, leaning out of a VW Bug]] Hi there. I'm a superintelligent gerbil and this lobotomized drifter is my vehicle. Need a lift? / Zeta Vincent (thinking): I am cynically detached, yet I can't look away. / / [[In Dana's car]] / Zeta Vincent: Name's Zeta Vincent. I'm with the press. / Dana: Dana. Escaped lab animal. / Zeta Vincent:[[Addressing hippie]] A Pleasure. And you, sir-? / Dana: Oh, he doesn't talk. I removed most of his cerebellum. / Dana: He was complaining about going all the way to Burning Man, and, frankly, he seems happier this way. Don't worry - he still has enough motor skills to drive. / Zeta Vincent: And imagine - I once thought events like this attracted freaks. / Dana: But not enough to work stick. Third gear, Vic! Third! / / Burning man staff: Burning man is about getting back to our primitive roots... it's about rediscovering the primal forces of creation in an unforgiving wasteland... / Dana: This is great! I can FEEL the creative energies! / Burning man staff: And in my company's case, it's about providing reliable, high-speed Internet access. / Zeta Vincent:Mm-hm. / Dana: It's exactly what I've searched for! / Zeta Vincent: You know, you're the only one I've met here who actually sems to have original ideas. / Dana: How could I not? This place is humming with just the right vibes! / Zeta vincebt: Take note, gentle reader: At this august assembly of my culture's finest, the noblest sentiments came from the vermin in a hippie's beard. / Dana: Just the right vibes to power my weapon of ultimate destruction! / / Dana: Maybe it's because my brain's being eaton away by chemicals, but I've gotten totally into life energies, y'know? / Dana: The creative force. / Dana: I theorize that human creativity can be harnessed to produce incalculable force. At a big artistic gathering like this, it should be sufficient.. / Dana: TO DESTROY THE WORLD! BWA HA HA HA HA! / Zeta Vincent: Whatever happended to levitating the Pentagon? / Dana: People thing to small. I'll blow up the planet and build from there. / / Dana: Anyway, that's my plan: kill everyone. Mad, they called me! Mad! / Zeta Vincent: Who did? / Dana: Huh? I dunno. People. / Zeta Vincent: Oh. / Dana: Um... would you? / Zeta Vincent: Sigh You're mad. / Dana: HA! I'LL SHOW YOU ALL!! / Zeta Vincent: You bet. Want a popsicle? / / Zeta Vincent (thinking): In case you didn't notice, gentle reader, it didn't work. / Zeta Vincent (thinking): The gerbil's attempt to blow up the Earth with our collective creative juices was a bust. / Zeta Vincent (thinking): For a second it felt like it might work. The gerbil's machine stammered and screamed- and then beautifully, it exploded, leaving all onlookers knee-deep in metal screws, polystyrene, and motor oil. / Zeta Vincent (thinking):was the theory wrong? Was the design crap? Or did Burning Man lack the right energy? / Zeta Vincent (thinking): All I know is at least one frustrated creative is still searcing-for the rodents' American Dream... / Strange Lady: [[holding a hamster cage with Dana sitting on top]] Their names are Trish and Toshi. I thought you could make friends. / Dana: "Hamsters", eh?... http://moderntales.com/series.php?view=archive&chapter=236&name=narbonic
198: The Second Annual Narbonic Summer T-Shirt Contest	Results of / The Narbonic Summer / T-Shirt Contest! / This has been a summer t-shirt photo contest both of sorrow and / of joy. Sorrow, because I only received ONE FRIGGIN' ENTRY! / Yes! It is sad! And yet that one entry is so beautiful, and at the same / time so very freaky, that it warms my heart to look upon it. / And hence there is joy. / [[A photograph. In the photograph, a woman lies in bed, eyes closed, several acupuncture needles protruding from her face. She wears a t-shirt featuring three gerbils who make peace signs above their heads and wear Riot Grrrbils t-shirts. The woman's t-shirt says www.narbonic.com under the picture of the three gerbils.]] / To provide additional photo entertainment, here are The Lone Goldfish / and partner (if you guys send me your actual names, I'll put them in) / playing the Victorian Helen and Professor Madblood in a live-action / roleplaying game. No joke. They really are that wicked cool. / [[A photograph of a man and a woman standing in a room, in front of fussy wallpaper. The men is on the left. He wears a black derby hat, a t-shirt that says "I SURVIVED ORC and PIE" with a picture of a sword and a piece of pie, and a lanyard with a pink sticky note around his neck. The woman is on the right of the photograph. She wears round sunglasses with red lenses and a silver frame, a black shirt, and a blue jacket.]] / {{198: The Second Annual Narbonic Summer T-Shirt Contest. June 16, 2002.}} http://moderntales.com/series.php?view=archive&chapter=925&name=narbonic
	Clone Dave: What the hell...? / Mell: Whatcha got there, cowboy? / Clone Dave: I found... er... compromising photos of Helen. Stuck in my favorite Linux manual, oddly... / Mell: Arrgh! Don't show me that! / Clone Dave: What am I supposed to do? Why would Helen leave - Wait a minute. / Clone Dave: I'm in these. / Mell: MY EYES! MY EYYYES!!
	Artie: Listen, Dave. I think we got off on the wrong foot. Why don't we go out for drinks and discuss- / Mell: He can't hear you, buddy. / Artie: What? / Dave (clone):What? / Mell: I was just telling Artie how you can't hear him when he's a gerbil. / Artie: Oh, surely- / Dave (clone): Gerbil? What're you talking about? / Mell: Don't sweat it. The talking invisible gerbil is gonna buy me a drink instead of you. / Dave (clone): Yeah, you need to be drinking more.

	"Mad science: you've got to really love your work or hate the world." / Mell: Any final words for your readers? / Helen: Hmm... / Helen: COWER BEFORE ME, WORTHLESS DRONES! THE DAY WILL COME WHEN ALL THE WORLD WILL KNOW THE NAME OF HELEN B. NARBON... / Helen: AND ON THAT DAY, YOU WILL WRITHE UNDER MY LASH! BWAHAHAHAHAH! / Mell: ...bwahahahaha. I think we've got a pull quote! / Helen: You're too kind! / "www.narbonic.com"
Narbonic: Spider-Goats!	[[Artie in spot light]] / Artie: Hello there. I'm please to report that a number of you have shown intrest in my work with the transgenic community. / Artie: In particular, we've recieved a lot of feedback about the goats with spider DNA currently being bred in Canada. My People. / Artie: Certian readers even wrote, er, songs. All set to the same tune... / [[text over photo of a goat in a lab]] / Spider-Goat, Spider-Goat, / He's more powerful than a stoat. / Spins a web, if you please, made entirely of feta cheese. / Look out! / There goes the Spider-Goat! / -Joseph Prisco / Spider-Goat, Spider-Goat, / Makes a bulletproof overcoat, / Spins a web in its milk, / Same as drag-line spider silk. / Look out! / There goes the Spider-Goat. / Is it strong? Listen Dan, / It's the toughest thread known to man. / Transgenic goats with Spider genes / Are laboratory silk machines. / Look out! / Her come the Spider-Goats! / -James Rice http://moderntales.com/series.php?view=archive&chapter=1043&name=narbonic&mpe=1&step=1
	Mell: The Moon? / Helen: The Moon! / Mell: We are surely NOT going to-- / Helen: The Moon! Dave, the hot blood of the adventurer does pump through your otherwise sedentary heart! / Dave: Well, I'd like to walk on the Moon... / Helen: And so you shall! I shall design a craft which puts to use the anti-gravity properties of my electrical generator. Mr. Davenport, with your analytical engine you shall plot a trajectory which will plant us on the Moon. / Mell: And what am I to do? (As if I didn't know.) / Helen: Heavy construction, stoking the furnace, and tea. / Helen: [[written]] Thus did our Mr. Davenport unwittingly launch the most astonishing of my scientific excursions to date. For weeks my apprentice smelted, hammered, and tended to the tea-kettle, while Mr. Davenport and myself sketched the maiden voyage of Narbon's Patented Lunar Gondola.

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