This was a busy week. I came back from an educational trip through history with Abraham Lincoln, Robin Hood, and Joseph Stalin. After they taught me how traditional values can still be applied in today’s age of wisecracking cartoon animals and future toilets, I introduced them all to “ice cream” and we adopted a high spirited orphan. We were too busy in our beach-running/food fight musical montage to notice that this was the same little orphan that Mantak the Xandarian needed to lead his race to galactic domination.

As you may know from episode #38 of Star Zappers, adopting a Xandarian dictator’s chosen military leader is like pissing down the piss-sensitive cleavage of an Andorian princess. And it takes a lot less than that for Mantak to blast you into oblivion. So we had two choices – Give up our new orphan, or fight. Even with Stalin’s ability to starve Ukranians, Abraham Lincoln’s top hat, Robin Hood’s sissy-tipped arrows, and Abe’s pajamas decorated with small pictures of top hats, we wouldn’t stand a chance against the Xandarian combat fleet. There was only one way we could fight Mantak AND get enough money for our orphan’s pony – ROCK into Space, the Intergalactic Battle of the Bands.

This didn’t make our chances much better. Mantak’s band, Flux Maximo and the Poop Troop, had won ROCK into Space for the last 17 space years. And they specialized in dirty tricks.

We nervously waited backstage while the Tralfamadorian/Globetrotter basketball game for domination of Sector Gamma went into overtime. We passed the time by crossing our fingers and hoping our mixture of bouncy pop and smiles was enough to overcome Flux Maximo’s elaborate pranks and sabotage. The cold Stalin kept his fingers seperated and used the extra time to run through “Love’s Gonna Getcha!” with our new drummer – Ockdiggity, the talking octopus. Plus, I found a rare Captain Snoogie comic.

When it was our turn we played our hearts out. Rainbows and flowers radiated out of us like we were the good guy band in an intergalactic battle of the bands. I may have lost, had my orphan taken away for military reprogramming, and watched my historical friends be ejected into the coldness of space, but at least I have a pizza.