created by: b. schatz

The following was written before Arrested Development won for best comedy, thus salvaging most of the horrible Emmy show.

TALK ABOUT STUPID IDEAS...

Hey kids. Welcome back to toasted.zine. This time around, uncle brandon is a little cranky, having just witnessed most of the generally cheesy (but in some spots, kind've okay) Emmy awards, so get ready for some incredibly cheesy (but also, in some spots, kind've okay) retaliation in the form of something I like to call "The Toastys".

You have been warned...

"Two minutes to start!' a nameless intern with a clipboard yells through a megaphone, right in Brandon's left ear.

"Was that really necessary?" Brandon asks, face in full on flinch mode as his left ear tries to regain some semblance of a little something called 'not-ringing'.

The intern pushes the on button on the megaphone again.

"No, it wasn't," comes the feedbacky response, as Brandon's ear threatens to explode, causing it's owner to die a horribly, yet strangely funny death.

Brandon's face naturally scrunches more, "Do you even work here? Because my office has a hole in the floor of it, and that looks right into the Intern Break Room and... I have never seen you before."

Click. Weeee...

"Bite me."

"Well... thanks for that," Brandon mutters, "Oh, wait, Blake! Blake!"

The roaming columns editor, clad in a fluffy white bathrobe and a pipe that blows bubbles, continues to move by Brandon, speed unwavering.

"If you must talk with me, then you must walk with me, old bean," he states in an uppity British accent.

Brandon quickly matches his pace, "Yeah, about my column this week..."

"Ah yes your quaint little idea for an awards show. Positively corking idea, chum. Capital idea," Blake drawls.

"...um... yeah, about that... I didn't exactly mean for it to be a real awards show as they say, just... more of a written column type of thing, you know?" Brandon explains, "So... I... well, we really don't need to go through all this... filming and stuff, do we?"

"Poppycock!" Blake explains, raising his bubble pipe in the air incredulously, "Balderdash, even. Award shows were meant to be seen, chum, not written. Now, stand on that 'X' if you please..."

"Huh? Oh, sure, but uh... wait, Blake, why am I standing on this..."

He sees a little hand held camera pointed at him.

The intern with the megaphone clicks it on again and yells, "Ten seconds!"

"Blake, no, please, don't make me do this," Brandon begs.

"Why, it is too late for that," Blake explains, blowing bubbles up and around his head, "We've already paid for the airtime on the public access channel."

"Five!"

"Oh God..." Brandon mutters, rubbing his temples with his fingers, "How do I get myself into these situations..."

"Four... three... two..."

LIVE, FROM A DOWNTOWN OFFICE COMPLEX IN NANUKTUK, CALIFORNIA... IT'S THE 2004 TOASTY AWARDS! NOW, HERE'S YOUR HOST... BRANDON SCHATZ!

brandon: "...you can't just... oh God, um... hi, all you, uh... all you people watching channel 148 at 2:30 in the afternoon on a... on a Tuesday when you should be working or... you know, having some sort of life or... or something. Um... sorry, you'll have to excuse me, I wasn't, uh... wasn't really prepared for this or anything... so... please bare with me as I try and do this off of my memory..."

BEST ATTEMPT TO WRITE A READABLE COMIC BOOK:

...and the nominees are...

Chuck Austen, Exiles (Marvel)

Chuck Austen, Uncanny/X-Men (Marvel)

Chuck Austen, Action Comics (DC)

Scott and Eric Williams, Journey into the Sewer (Redneck Comics)

And the winner is... or I should say, the winners are Scott and Eric Williams for being the far most readable of... of the bunch. And uh... Scott, I guess, could be here to except this award, since he... well, he works here, but right now, he and uh... Meagan, his strangely older than him intern/girlfriend are on... on a little vacation now, and they should be back... uh... any day now."

MEANWHILE...

"Tomorrow, right?"

"Yes, tomorrow," Scott explained to Meagan, "We start back at comiXtreme tomorrow. How many times are you going to ask me?"

"Probably 1,000 more times," she muttered, "I can't believe I'm going to go back there. I don't want to go back there."

"We've been over this Meagan," Scott said, "There's nothing wrong with comiXtreme. Greg is long gone now, and no one has seen him since."

"Right," Meagan told him, "Even the police. No one knows where he is, or even... really, what he looks like... and... what if he comes back? What if he actually shoots me this time..."

"Meagan. Listen. Tone down the crazy, mmkay? Everything is going to be fine, and nothing bad is going to happen... okay?"

"...okay."

"Good," Scott said with a smile.

There was a pause in conversation.

"Heh," he smiled a little.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing, really," Scott smiled, "I'm thinking of what kind of derogatory feminine remark to greet Brandon with when he checks me out when I walk into the office. I wonder what that skid is doing right now?"

BEST WAY TO LOBOTOMIZE YOURSELF WITH A COMIC BOOK

brandon: ... and the nominees are...

Try to paper cut your way through the top of your skull.

Roll it up, coat it in liquid metal, and wait for it to solidify. Then attach it to a post pounder and stand beneath it.

Read Identity Crisis #2, pretend to be a magician, and beat yourself in the temples with the comic.

...and the winner is...

CRAIG READE'S CRAZY ADVENTURES IN TIJUANA

Craig Reade stumbled into the comiXtreme offices and fell to the ground. Ben Grimly, the surly receptionist peered over the little desk he sat at and muttered an angry, "You're blocking the door. Please pick yourself up and vacate the premises."

Craig lifted up one of his arms (which was where one of his hands lived) and muttered, "Pick me up yourself."

Grimly sighed and spoke into his head set, "Security, we have a problem at the front desk."

Seconds later, Darren Clarke and Sudsie burst into the reception area.

"What can we do you for, Bensie?"

Ben crinkled his face, "My name, is Ben. And you can help by taking... that out of my area."

"It'll happen right awa—ooooohhhh..." Darren blinked, backing up, "Whoa, whoa, whoa... is that Craig?"

"I don't pretend to know what he is," Ben stated nonchalantly.

"Yes, it's me," he grumbled, "And when I get up, I'm going to kill you. And since when did you become our security?"

Darren nudged Sudsie in the ribs, "I don't think we should pick him up."

"Wait, wait, wait, is that little mute friend of yours with you?" Craig asked, "Because he owes me $100, a new pair of pants, and a stern, but gruff penguin."

"Dude, let's get out of here," Darren whispered.

"You can't just leave him in my reception area," Ben protested.

"Pick him up yourself, dude," Darren told him, leaving, "It's not like he's any kind of tall or anything."

One of the double doors from outside popped open and hit Craig in the head.

"Hey. Midget man. It'd be a good idea not to lie right in front of the door," the emerging person cranked.

Craig cursed as his head began to throb even more, and he recognized the voice of the door opener.

"Conner, what the hell are you doing here?" Craig asked groggily, "Aren't you supposed to be... not going to the comic book shops because your girlfriend is an unbelievable b—"

"Craig, Craig, Craig... don't you remember?"

"Remember what?" Craig asked, "All I remember is... I threw a party, Darren got me drunker than anything, and then I woke up in Tijuana, and I'm going to kill him for that."

"Oh, well, that's grand," Conner muttered, "Listen, just so you know, when you were wasted last night... Darren took you out on the town and met me at a bar, where you, still technically the Newsroom Editor at the time... gave me a job at comiXtreme."

There was a brief silence in the room.

"So," he patted Craig on the head, "Have fun explaining that one."

"...when I get up, I'm going to kill Darren," Craig growled.

"Then call it an inspiration to get out of my reception area," Ben snarled.

"...I am entirely trying to get you fired."

To Be Continued...

in two weeks, The Toastys conclude with at least one celebrity cameo? (Really?) Yes, really, and the truth behind what Blake is really doing with this whole taping!

TOASTED.ZINE VOLUME 03 – ISSUE 03

AUTHOR: brandon schatz

CONTRIBUTING EDITOR: Craig Reade

EDITOR: Blake Petit

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF: Doug Norris

©2004 All rights reserved. Published bi-weekly on comiXtreme, later to be achieved at stillontheshelf. All opinions stated in the preceding are of the author, and none of the editors or affiliates.