“Hello everybody my name is Roger and on this sunny day in foggy London where it has only rained a wee bit and there has not yet been a single murder, I have some very unfortunate news. My good friend Jake Borden - whose name I will always remember and cherish - hasn’t been seen in a wee while…”

Right on cue the door to the walk-in refrigerator that Roger was standing in, burst open and Prince Ibrahim of Niger waved at him.

“We found him!”

The two raced from the fridge and across the Japanese garden just outside to Roger's bedroom where a gigantic, whole-wall Commodore 64 ran Matrix-like glyphs down its screen.

“You hacked a hole in the internet and found Jake Borden?”

“Well, no, not me. Internet stuff is a Nigerian thing not a Nigerien thing, so my cousin Prince Ibrahmia from Nigeria is here and he triangulated the internet and turned it into a right-angled triangle that is big enough for a Roger! Go inside and find your friend!”

Roger gave both Princes, Ibrahim and Ibrahimia, a kiss on the cheek to say thank you, and he stepped into the hole in the internet.

In cyberspace…

”W-w-wow, Jake!”

Virtual Pete Rose stuttered!

“You just th-th-th*krsh*...”

Rose’s head rapidly turned thrice, like a sputtering animatronic, before rotating correctly.

“Cutting twenty-seven minutes of HOT PROMO FIRE on those No-Good Bastards! identifying truths like…

(1) The Bastards haven’t changed in YEARS… They like money! THAT’S IT! They’re simple, constant, and BLAND like Mama Bourbon’s pancake recipe!

(2) They’re hopelessly flawed together, as Bobby just does whatever he wants in the ring and TK lacks the confidence to rein Bourbon’s chaos in!

(3) Their ringwork’s like their trashtalk! Incompatible! Their messages-and-moves are so separate and ignorant of the other’s, one’s attacks actually hurt the other’s effectiveness!”

“Most impressively, you conveyed those ideas so matter-of-factly, it felt less like heated insults, more like unbiased analysis of their team weaknesses! I am now 100% convinced YOU can beat those Bastards!

...Also, you’re my best friend!”

“Indeed, faux Mister Rose. It’s ironic… Whilst trapped in CYPH3R’s virtual world, without my stutter to stymy my strategizing, I’ve perfected my tag-team tactics with unmatched accuracy… Yet, my ‘impediment’, if I still retained it, would grant me escape from this prison nigh-instantaneously…”

As Borden’s sentence runs-on, “Rose”’s eyes flutter…

“Tragically, my mastery of the English language actually BARS my dismantling of this cyber-cell.”

”W-w-wow!”

Rose muttered sputteringly and sputtered mutteringly…

”Y-y-y-y-y..!”

SPLIP! Suddenly, the frame-rate de-snagged!

”You said words!”

“Alas. My perfectly-tuned linguistic sensibilities prevent me from speaking with excessive verbosity to overload Cypher’s simulation… My vernacular’s too refined to speak beyond my point’s conclusion.”

“Jake Borden!”

Jake spun around, spotting Roger waving at him.

“Roger! How fortuitous! Quickly, speak ceaselessly! With the utmost has–”

“I caught the end of your tremendous speech and you are so right about those guys they are Not Very Good Bastards at all because just the other day my darling rabbit Elmer's new best friend Bark Flynn took off his spooky Micheal Graves mask and was telling me about the time that he met the Bottle of Bourbon someplace or other and in between woofing he thought to himself ‘I’m Micheal Graves and if a bastard ever saw me someplace or other they would definitely give me a kick and call me a bad boy” which is basically the worst thing somebody could do to a dog but the Bottle of Bourbon didn't do anything of the sort maybe because bottles don’t have legs I’m not sure on the specifics of it all but I know that instead he was amongst the loveliest people Bark Flynn had ever met so he can't be very good at being a bastard at all and then Bark Flynn woofed again and put his Micheal Graves mask back on but I thought he made some excellent poi–”

ERROR MESSAGE: 84574RD5 5UCK. Word count exceeded. System overload.

“Yes! Y-Y-YESSSSSSSSS!”

Overwhelmed with too many words, CYPH3R’s VR world he’d stuck Jake Borden in began to collapse upon itself and both Jake and Roger were sucked through another right-angle triangle and spat back into Roger's bedroom.

“Jake Borden, we escaped the internet!”

“Y-y-y’’could say ‘the s-s-superior m-machine is less s-s-sup-...Er, I-mean… the m-m-machine isn’t s-s-su”

…Jake Borden scratched his head, having forgotten his *devastating* punchline.

“What-I-mean-is… Y-y-you saved me, R-r-roge-”

SWIP!

Suddenly, Jake's almost decapitated by a rock-hard pancake Frisbee, made of whatever the exact opposite of ‘deliciously soft batter’ is. The shuriken-like pancake stabbed into the wall.

“Watch out!”

Prince Ibrahim delivered a late warning, before a hand muffled his mouth. Both Ibrahim and Ibrahimia were in the clutches of two devious-looking ninja assassins!

“Hello ninja assassins my name is Roger and–”

A pancake-shuriken-Frisbee gave him a lovely haircut.

“Oh thank you very much… umm, sorry I didn't catch your names?”

He squinted and saw nametags on their chests from the Brotherhood of Boilermakers (known across the Midlands for the quality of the boilers they make, and their bloodthirst).

“Wally Whisky and… Tingle Toes?… What a lovely name!”

Before the Brotherhood assassins could strike again, Bark Flynn bounded in from where he and Elmer the rabbit were practicing karate.

“Woof! Woof! I’m Micheal Graves!”

Showing how wicked he is compared to other alcohol-themed supervillains, the assassin named Wally Whisky immediately kicked the dog, sending him smashing through a window (he’ll be fine, he’s Micheal Graves).

“Y-y-you k-kicked a h-h-hound-dog, you b-b-bast…er, nogoodnik!”

“Whatcha gonna do about it, nerd!?!”

Tingle Toes aimed another pancake for Jake, when a plasma bolt shot from the same entryway that Bark Flynn had entered. It exploded the pancake into X-Bux. Tingle Toes dove to the ground, scooping up those X-Bux.

“TT! We’ll beg Señor Zardoz for BarnBros subscription money later! We gotta kill these mooks!”

Wally Whisky was not Italian, just a douche. Regardless, it was enough to rally Tingle Toes just as that bitch Joseph Gordon-Levitt arrived.

“These guys must be part of the crew trying to murder all of the Rogers and Josephs! We must escape! Back through the internet!”

“Q-q-quick! Th-th-th-there’s n-n-n-no t-t-time t-t-t-”

“OHMYGOD, MOVE!!”

That bitch Joseph Gordon-Levitt shoved Jake through the right-angled triangle, back into cyberspace. Roger and the Princes followed, and as he entered behind them the Hollywood necromancer shut the triangle with his wicked magic.

“You have internet powers now?”

“The internet thrives on death!”

Indeed, the quintet hurtled through cyberspace, past the corpses of many old Angelfire and Geocities sites the Wayback Machine could not resuscitate. When they returned to the real world once more, the atrocities they saw caused them all except Roger and his evil brother to vomit.

“G-g-gracious… S-s-so m-m-much C-c-comic S-s-sans… a-a-and HTML t-t-tables…”

“Those assassins must be part of the plan to kill all of the Rogers and Josephs.”

“I know I doubted you once, but… I think you're right.”

“Well they won't get me!”

“It's not *you* they're after…”

Both Roger and that bitch Joseph Gordon-Levitt side-eye Jake Borden.

“W-w-why you l-loo-lookin’ m-m-my direc-...er, at me?”

“Well… I may have followed you home one time and stolen a DNA sample from your kidney while you slept. You two share uncannily similar DNA. Jake… you might be a Roger.”

Roger got very excited by that prospect.

Jake scratched his head.

“…B-b-but, if *I’m* Roger… Who’s Jake?”

‘Roger’ pointed at Roger.

“…Jake?”

…’Jake’ kisses ‘Roger’’s cheek, thanking him for the well-made point.

“...*sigh*...Fools…

Regardless! We must confirm this! We shall travel backward in time to investigate if your Dad ever made love to our mummy to ensure you’re really a Roger so we can save you. Now… If only there was a way we could time-travel easily!”

“O-o-oh! W-w-w-we c-c-c–”

“Can’t you use your necromancy to send us back in time?”

“Hmm… necrotemporal displacement magic is a risky gambit. I’ve only done it once before.”

“–er… w-w-we c-c-could u-uti-...er, use…”

“We have to do it! To save Jake Borden from assassins!”

“It would require a human life. Y’know… because of the necromancy.”

Jake inhaled deeply…

“W-w-we c-c-could u-u-u-use m-my t-t-ti–”

Prince Ibrahimia of Nigeria stepped forward.

“Use me. I only exist for that one joke about Niger and Nigeria that was said back in Roger’s bedroom.”

Always willing to murder somebody who requests it, that bitch Joseph Gordon-Levitt immediately fired a plasma bolt into Prince Ibrahimia’s face.

“–...t-t-time l-locker?”

Jake was too late. Prince Ibrahimia was already dead and a portal opened to the past.

“You guys go, I’ll stay here to bury this dead body.”

He shoved Jake and Roger through, before Jake could fathom what happened.

The past…

“Okay, where does your daddy live, Jake Borden? Do you remember the address you grew up at to become the marvelous and caring human being you are today with the complexion of a hard-working corn farmer from the 1800s?”

Jake closed his eyes, tapping into his 1970s senses of… knowing where places were before Google Maps.

“...Yep!”

A long cab ride later…

Pulling up outside a ramshackle little cottage, Jake waved goodbye and Roger gave the cabby a kiss on the cheek, and they turned to head inside. Suddenly, they both tripped on a crack, stumbling into a bush! It was really convenient, because as they tried to untangle themselves, a man trotted up the path to the door.

“Wait just one hoot! Is that…?

Roger looked at the man. Then back at Jake. Then, the man. Then, Jake.

The man walked inside as the two finally escaped from the shrubbery’s clutches. Roger pulled Jake by the hand towards the window where they peered inside to see…

“Mummy?”

“...M-m-me?”


Those hopelessly-sad eyes were Jake Borden’s… about 20 years older!

This wasn’t the right year!

Mortified, they both watched as Roger’s mum disrobed Elder Jake.

…Elder Jake sat on the bed…

And kissed her on the cheek!

Eyes wide, Roger and Younger Jake ducked down, crouching beneath the window.

“...Daddy?”

“...S-s-son…ny?”

Their moment was cut short.

“Look at these little lovebirds!”

It was those Brotherhood of Boilermaker bastards! They found their way back into the past too!

“Huh? Do you make love to your Dad?”

“What? No. Shuddup! I never did that!”

Tingle Toes reached into his shuriken shortstack for another crappy crêpe!

“Prepare to die, dorks!”

In a huff, Tingle Toes snapped another flapjack!

“Non-sequitur about wheat-threshers!”

Wally Whisky blasted a breakfast-themed batarang…

Both projectiles hurtled… toward Roger!

”L-l-l-l-look o-o..er, WATCH OUT, SON!”

Jake leapt in a life-sacrificing dive!

…

Unfortunately, Jake’s mistimed flop sent him groundward before the projectiles even came CLOSE…

”...Dagnabbit…”

”Hello shurikens my name is Rog-”

CLASH!

…

……

Whiskey’s batarang hit Tingle Toes’s pancake in mid-air! Both clattered, splitting harmlessly!

“I kn-knew their t-t-teamwork w-w-was b-b-b-bad!”

“Jake Borden, you being right about one thing you said gives me an idea about you being right about another thing you said!”

Roger stood up straight, chest puffed out… and pointed to the window.

“Hey fellas, I saw a bunch of X-Bux in the room there.”

“MONEY!”

Tingle Toes, lover-of-money, sprinted for the window to see the X-Bux…

And the sudden shock of what he saw caused his head to explode.

“TIIIIINNNNNGLE TOOOOOEEEESSSS!”

Wally Whisky burst into tears and ran up to the headless body of his assassin lifemate to see what happened.

He looked in the window.

The sight of Elder Borden making love to Roger’s mum…

“HIS DICK LOOKS LIKE AN HTML TABLE! AHHHHHHHH!”

Caused Wally’s head to explode too!

With the mystery solved of why Jake’s DNA resembled Roger’s, they summoned that bitch Joseph Gordon-Levitt to dispose of the dead bodies and maybe bang them, and then they all returned to the future where Jake took Roger for ice cream and ruffled his hair as they watch the sun set on another adventurous day in foggy London.

“Th-th-thank you f-for l-listening t-t-to our t-t-t…anecdote!”