(Somewhere on the Planetoid of Peril, August 8, 3008, 10:29 AM...)
*interbloggamunicator lights up, plays tinny version of "Flirtin' With Disaster" by Molly Hatchet*
Blockade Boy: Aw, hell.
*activates visi-phone function on interbloggamunicator*
Blockade Boy (into the device): Hey, Storm Boy.
Storm Boy: Ola, buddy! ...Yikes. You look like shit! Er, but you wear it well.
Blockade Boy: Just tell me what the problem is, so I can save all y'all's asses again and get back to my vacation.
Storm Boy: Sure, because it's obviously doing wonders for your attitude!
Blockade Boy: ...
Storm Boy: Relax, space-ape. There's no "problem." In fact, everything's been aces since you left!
Blockade Boy: Uh-huh. I ain't buyin' it. None of you clods could wipe your own asses without me around!
Storm Boy: If you'd bothered to tell anybody where the hell you were going, I could ship you an industrial levitator. So you could get over yourself.
Blockade Boy: Fine. So why are you pestering me right now?
Storm Boy: Mainly I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay, but you know what? You can go screw yourself.
Blockade Boy: Okay, okay... you're right. I'm sorry. I'm acting like a real bear. I mean, more so than usual.
Storm Boy: We really are doing great, by the way. I'm not shitting you.
Blockade Boy: If you say so.
Storm Boy: It's just -- oh, how can I put this without it sounding all catty? ...It's like, you were kind of the problem.
Blockade Boy: I WAS--?!
Storm Boy: Well, you know... you're kind of... overbearing? And a control freak? And you kind of make everybody just defer to you, even without you doing it on purpose or consciously or whatever? I think that's why all of us were just hanging out at your pod all the time, waiting for you to tell us what to do.
Blockade Boy: Which, of course, I never was. Since most of you annoy the crap out of me.
Storm Boy: Heh. Yeah, exactly.
Blockade Boy: So...?
Storm Boy: So, once you left, it was like a big, hairy blanket had been lifted off of us, and we could finally breathe and move our limbs. The rest of them are really good guys, once you get past their little quirks, and I figured out a cool new direction for us! By whom I mean, "me and Bad Apple Boy and Posture Queen." Not you.
Blockade Boy: What about Phantom Lad?
Storm Boy: Oh, he took off. He said he had a hot lead about rioting on Imsk. Really tiny rioting. He wants to sell the story to U.P. News and Worlds Report.
Blockade Boy: Are you remembering to feed Cootie?
Storm Boy: Rainbow Girl is taking care of her! It makes more sense, if you think about it. They've really bonded. You might have a fight on your hands when you come back! ...By the way, when are you coming back?
Blockade Boy: I dunno. I feel like I can be more like "myself" out here. Sometimes I think I'm not cut out for Polite Society.
Storm Boy: Heh. I think you're right. Oh! I just figured it out! You're on the Planetoid of Peril!
Blockade Boy: What th'--?! You deduced that from what I just said?
Storm Boy: Nope. I just caught a glimpse of the Citadel of Doom over your left shoulder. Well?
Blockade Boy: "Well" what, smart guy?
Storm Boy: Don't you want to know about our exciting new direction? It's the other reason why I called you.
Blockade Boy: Yeah, sure. Astound me.
Storm Boy: We're the All-New Jagged Edge Explosion Balloon! Featuring Storm Boy!
Blockade Boy: You want to lead my old garage band. Really.
Storm Boy: I've reworked our "sound" to really spotlight the Electric Sousasaxotimpanibone. It's astro-ska! Posture Queen is choreographing all our dance moves, and she plays a mean nuclear-powered zither, and we have Bad Apple Boy on glockenspiel, plus of course he raps.
Blockade Boy: Of course.
Storm Boy: And now that Tusker and Dentata Damsel are out of the nervous hospital, I've snagged them for banjo and didgeridoo, respectively.
Blockade Boy: Holy cats! You're serious about this.
Storm Boy: We've played some nightclubs already, and we're auditioning for a scout from Computoblanca Records. Oh! And Element Lad and Invisible Kid want us to play at their wedding!
Blockade Boy: ...
Storm Boy: Blockade Boy...?
Blockade Boy: Um. Wow.
Storm Boy: Yeah, so since you never were all that into the band, I was wondering if I could get the copyright to the name from you. I'll pay you whatever you want for it.
Blockade Boy: You can have it. No charge. I'll have my lawyer visi-phone you.
Storm Boy: Sweet! So you're doing okay? You're having fun?
Blockade Boy: ...Yeah. I'm great! I gotta go, though. I have a whole big day planned.
Storm Boy: Oh! That's cool. Well...! Keep in touch, okay?
Blockade Boy: Sure. Have a good one, fat-ass!
Storm Boy: Right back at ya, fat-ass! Seeya.
*Blockade Boy deactivates visi-phone function, then hurls interbloggamunicator against a boulder. It bounces off, unharmed. He picks it up again, and stalks off into the jungle.*