Entry tags:

series: fake news, series: harvey birdman, series: the ambiguously gay duo, series: the venture bros., story: drawing the line

Title: Drawing the Line, episode 1.04: Holding Out For The Heroes
Rating: TV-14
Series: TDS/TCR; Harvey Birdman; The Venture Bros.
Disclaimer: This is a work of parody. Although reference is made to real persons and places, the dialog, actions, and content are products of the author's imagination only. The animated characters are copyright various studios, none of which are mine.

In which Jon explores his new environment, Harvey puts out a call for help, Professor Impossible does the impossible, and Phil tries to teach Stephen about the facts of life.

(You can search for Professor Impossible video in the Adult Swim archives; I recommend "Impossibly Great", followed by "Breaking The Rules".)

For a photo from Phil's wedding, font downloads, and more, check out the DVD extras.

Table of contents here.



Drawing the Line
Episode 4
Holding Out For The Heroes


Judy Ken Sebben was in fine form. She was a monologuer at the best of times, but it was during serious crises that she truly shone.

Nobody else on the trip back to the office paid her much attention until she got to ". . . a job for the world's greatest heroes!"

"The people who watch my show!" exclaimed Stephen.

". . . sorry?"

"No, no, it's a brilliant idea, but it won't work. The Heroes are mostly useful for things like spamming websites. A rescue mission is a little bit out of their league."

Narrowing his eyes, Harvey put on his most interrogating voice. "Mr. Colbert, if my client is truly, as you contend, a menace to your security, why are you helping us rescue him?"

After ten minutes of denial, anger, rationalization, and loud insistences that Jon was not the one who needed rescuing here, Harvey was fervently wishing he hadn't asked. Still, he had to admit a glimmer of admiration for someone who could out-talk Judy.


—




Jon was beginning to discover that there were advantages to being (by his best estimate) less than a foot high.

After breakfast (miniature bacon and miniature eggs) he had found that he was bursting with energy. Maybe the shrink-gun had given the metabolism of one of the various small twitchy creatures that could now take him in a fight.

Whatever the cause, he felt as though he could run a mile.

Half-walking, half-skipping down a flight of stairs, he was so excited that he tripped over his own feet, and after tumbling a few steps to the landing he realized that it didn't hurt to fall. Something to do with the unexpected weight loss, perhaps? Did it matter? It was cool.

He jogged in circles for a few minutes, literally bouncing off the walls, until his breath began to hitch and he was struck by the realization that an inhaler would be about the size of a garbage can.

Unless Reducto had shrunk him one.

"Okay then," he said out loud, "time to do some exploring."


—


While Harvey rang up the Hall of Justice, Stephen explained the whole thing very carefully to his hot young assistant. How Jon was dangerous. How he must have seen the guilty verdict coming, and panicked. How Reducto was an innocent victim of Jon's twisted schemes.

"Mr. Colbert!" interrupted the girl. "I cannot stand here and listen to this! Jon Stewart is a kind, polite, witty, brilliant, handsome gentleman—"

"That's just what he wants you to think!" cried Stephen. "You have no idea the terrible things he's done! The things he wants to do!"

"I won't believe it! I—"

"Judy! Daughter!" interrupted the cheerful voice of Phil Ken Sebben, the firm's boss. "Run along and get us some coffee, there's a good girl. It's about time us men had a little man-talk."

"Yes, Daddy," replied Judy through gritted teeth, and stalked away.

Phil slung an arm around Stephen's shoulder. "Mr. Colbert, has anybody ever told you about the facts of life?"

Stephen frowned. "Does this have anything to do with birds, and that filthy disgusting thing they do with bees?"


—


One of the bathrooms had a fully stocked (miniature) medicine cabinet. No inhaler, but if Jon should happen to be cut, bruised, poisoned, stung by a giant bee, or stricken with a fever, he was covered.

The antibiotics made Jon wonder how exactly this shrinking thing worked. Had he actually been shrunk at the cellular level, so that bacteria would be too large for white blood cells to handle? Or did he just have fewer cells, like a graphic at a lower resolution?

And what would happen if you shrunk somebody to the size of an atom? Would you be able to get them back, or would they only end up horribly pixelated? Was he still large enough to be restored to his proper size?

All this thinking was starting to give Jon a headache. He contemplated the (tiny) tube of HeadOn, then headed for the kitchen to see if there was any (very light) beer.


—


An impossibly shiny phone in an impossibly clean kitchen began to ring. The sound was clear, melodic, and beautiful—impossibly so.

From the next room over, the resident of the house stretched one arm into the kitchen and snagged the phone, carrying it back to his ear. "Hello?"

"Professor Impossible?"

"That's my name, don't wear it out. What's up, Mr. Birdman?"

"Hey, you recognized me!"

"That's right! Impossible, you say? Perhaps, but—"

"—you have impossibly good caller ID, yes, yes. Professor, all the first-string heroes are busy, and I need a favor."

"If it involves moving furniture, I'm afraid I'm not your guy. Still under house arrest for killing all those people, you know."

"Can you help me track down a missing supervillain?"

"Am I impossibly brilliant?"

". . . yes?" ventured Birdman.

"Precisely! So, who do you need to find?"


—


The doors and windows on the first floor were sealed; the second-floor windows opened, but not far enough to crawl through; and the third-floor windows could be spread wide enough to jump from, if you were willing to put up with the landing.

Jon decided not to risk it. He knew a little something about cartoon physics. Small or not, at this height he would almost certainly put a Jon-shaped hole in the table, followed by one in the floor below.


—


Stephen was hanging on to Phil's every word. This was partly because Phil was a captivating speaker, and mostly because Stephen had no idea what any of it meant.