Our tale begins in London, England, (or Britain if you wish to call it) where our hero lives. Torvald Hawthorne woke up one morning just like any other morning in his Super Terrific Bachy Pad. He stretched his arms in his fluffy round bed and scratched his morning Afro. “What a fresh day!” Torvald exclaimed as he hopped onto the floor and began to walk towards the kitchen. There he concocted an omelet made with cheese, bacon, peppers, eggs, bull testicles, head cheese, random parts of a Chevrolet truck, and some lemon juice to give it a kick.

After feasting on his delectable breakfast, Torvald slid down the fireman’s pole into his den. He reached over to the wall and snatched up his all-purpose wonder remote control, which operated every single gadget in his house. Tor pressed the button to activate the television, and proceeded to watch MTV, even though his coolness had evolved beyond that of the tubby Carson Daily. After viewing a few boring seconds of someone’s new single, (it doesn’t really matter who or what) Torvald switched the channel to TBN (The Breakdancing Network). Upon viewing the moves of a blatant amateur, a small remainder of breakfast had worked its way out of Tor’s stomach and back into his mouth, which was then promptly swallowed back down into Tor’s tummy.

Instantaneously, the telephone played the first few notes of  “Ice, Ice, Baby” signifying that there was indeed a caller. Mr. Hawthorne muted the television and activated the speakerphone, all with one stylish movement of his thumb. He called out, “This is Torvald!”

“Hey, Mr. Red,” said a familiar voice. It was Hortense McNeely, Torvald’s effeminate best friend.

“Yo, Hortense,” Torvald yelled back, “What’s the onpho?”

“Well, I was wondering if you want to go to that new Japanese club tonight.”

“Where’s this Japanese club? What’s it called?”

“It’s in Japan, you silly goose! And its name translates to Panic Place.”

“Sure,” replied Torvald, “I’ll meet you at my jet.”

Torvald hung up, but not before hearing Hortense say that he was going to bring his new girlfriend along with him. He quickly checked what was on channel four, then slid his way into the shower where he bathed all the microscopic particles away. Now Torvald had a dilemma: Should he wear the leather pants and silver button shirt, or the pink hot pants and long sleeved shirt? After a moment or two of pondering, and Torvald looks cool even thinking I might add, he decided to choose the leather pants with the silver button shirt.

Torvald arrived at the airport via his neon orange convertible, which had a decal of a yin-yang on it. Hortense and his new girlfriend, Bornaka (pronounced “Mary”) were already waiting there quite patiently. As Torvald jumped out of his automobile, he did a hello back flip for Bornaka.

“So, are we all ready to go?” Hortense inquired as he held his new girlfriend close.

“YEAH!” Torvald exclaimed with much gusto.

The three travelers climbed the stairs into Torvald’s private jet, which had many pictures painted on it in a collage of cool. On it were various pictures such as the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Bart Simspon, and Ben Affleck (pre-Reindeer Games). On the inside was no exception. The passenger hold was decorated with an advanced entertainment system, which included a DVD player, a fully functional non-alcoholic bar, and a fish tank centerpiece to accent the adventure. As soon as everyone was settled in, the plane took off, while at the same time played the first line of “La Cucaracha”.

And it was only three hours later that the plane touched down in Tokyo. Torvald jumped out, not even waiting for the hatch to fully open, and ran as only he could run to the nearest convenience store to pick up some whale bacon. Wasting little time, Tor gave both Hortense and Bornaka a piggyback ride to Panic Place, just in time for the sunset.

And kids, this club was the epitome of trends and fads. Glow sticks were at every corner, go-go dancers were ornaments strewn about the floor, and almost every human in the room wore light-up shoes. Not Torvald, no siree; he wore his green apple dancing boots with purple laces. As soon as the remix of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles theme song began to sound, Torvald put his feet to the beat. For three glorious minutes, Tor lit up the ground as the other clubbers gathered around him and viewed in awe as he transformed a zero-g into a double corkscrew spinflip. Just then, “Heroes in a half shell… turtle power!” The song was over, and the onlookers applauded.

Standing in a dark, dank corner was Tim Dragon slurping down what looked like a fine Manhattan, but was actually toilet water. It surely did not matter to Tim; he couldn’t tell the difference. He was too busy staring at his newly acquired mesh sleeveless shirt. Dragon gulped down the last of his latrine liquid, checked his silver buzz cut, and was on his way to upstaging his fan-favorite enemy. He had attempted to thwart the plans of Torvald once before in the days of yore; now that Tor was world renowned, Mr. Dragon thought he had another chance.

As Tor was gearing up for his next dance, Tim stepped onto the center floor. A chill ran across both men’s back as they spotted each other across the glowing surface of the dance floor.

“So, Hawthorne, we meet again.” Tim spoke with a slight quiver. It had been two, maybe three years since he had last seen Torvald. In that time, Tor had grown strong and powerful enough to defend himself against the attacks of Dragon.

“Dragon: long time, no see.” Torvald said in reply. As he stared a hole in his arch nemesis, his heart was pounding hard enough to give two grown men heart attacks. Barely able to stand, Torvald stepped closer to Tim.

“Do you want to dance, boy?” Tim asked condescendingly. He knew this would not lead to victory, but he had to prove himself.

Hortense looked on from behind Torvald. This could get ugly at any moment, he thought, I have to step in now.

But he didn’t. Instead, Tim did some cartwheel spin-splits. As he landed wooziness began to set in. He shouldn’t have drunken all that toilet water. No matter, Tim closed the splits and stood to his feet, shaking his head and spitting out a hairy booger. Torvald immediately responded with the first half of Terminator, his own version of the robot.

* * *

Three hours later, the two men were still showcasing their moves to each other and the gathering crowd, which had not only grown in size massively during this time, but had also been increasingly amazed with each move pulled off by the two men. The “oohs” and “ahs” became synonymous with each new dance move that was performed. After Torvald had accomplished 101 head-spins and managed to land one foot, the crowd applauded enthusiastically. Torvald did feel a tad noxious from all that spinning, but it was Tim who vomited. There was no way he could top that move, he was beaten. Tim stood up to admit his defeat when an idea made its way into his bleached-goatee head. It was risky, but it just might work.

Instead of losing, Tim had a better plan. He would do the Corballschnap, a move that only expert breakdancers can do. This would surely win him the fight, for not even 101 head-spins could top the Corballschnap. But that was not all, Tim had a big ace up his sleeve, for he was planning to do this sacred breakdance move backwards. Yes, kiddies, you heard me right. Tim Dragon was planning on doing the Corballschnap entirely backwards, a feat which had never been accomplished, attempted, or conceived until Tim Dragon decided to do it then. Rookies looking for the spotlight have been paralyzed and even killed doing this dance move forwards. In fact, only two people in the history of the universe had ever successfully completed the Corballscnap: Torvald Hawthorne and Jimmy Carter. Tim was risking life and limb here.

Tim made sure he had enough space, and began. His movements were awkward at first, but soon began to have a rhythm to them. Upon realizing what Tim was doing, Torvald’s heart skipped thirty beats- one for every second that Tim was in the air. Hortense, too was astounded at the combination of skill and dumb luck that Timothy Dragon possessed. After all the spinning, flipping, twirling, whirling, and revolutions, Tim managed to land on his pinkies.

And as soon as his rotten nails contacted the floor, something happened. The earth quaked like… an earthquake. Then suddenly, a bright blue light formed between Tim and Torvald. Slowly, very slowly, it began to grow, and with that growing both Torvald and Tim grew weak. The ball then moved closer to Tim. Dragon, not knowing what to do, just stood still: he was too weak to move as it was. But not for long, because when he touched the ball, he absorbed all the power within it, and as he realized what he had just become, he let out a maniacal laugh. The new Tim Dragon stepped over to Torvald, who was still lying on the floor. As Torvald wearily looked up, his eyes widened, and he slowly reached up to feel his red Afro. Only, it was no longer there. In its place was a black crew cut. A tear trickled down his weakened eye.

Tim Dragon laughed and announced with a booming voice, “Call me…Corbin Zero.” With that declaration, Corbin instantly shifted into a stance and faded away into the air as if he were a cloud of smoke. With Corbin gone (thank goodness), Hortense helped Torvald to his quivering feet.

“Are you OK, buddy boy?” inquired a concerned best friend. Tor nodded, and stood up on his own, barely. The Japanese onlookers, just as confused as Tor was, started to leave.

“Hortense, this isn’t working out,” Bornaka announced, “I want us to see other people, plus I feel like becoming a short-skirted librarian at an all-boys school as opposed to a short-skirted girlfriend of an effeminate dance instructor. Bye, forever.”

Hortense casually waved goodbye and blew one final kiss. It wasn’t so bad. Besides, he could now concentrate fully on helping his best friend, who needed him now more than ever.

Immediately as Hortense pulled up to Torvald’s house at ten o’clock, Tor trudged up the steps to his house, not even noticing the mailbox, and opened the door where inside he then plopped down on a beanbag chair. Hortense walked in to see Torvald sound asleep. Tor hadn’t been that tired since way back in his pre-fame days when he was auditioning for Telemundo®. Hortense McNeely sighed, removed the headband from his ruffled blonde hair (nearly a mullet by now), and fell asleep on the couch, which had once belonged to the lead singer of Aha.

* * *

Corbin Zero materialized in a dark room with only a single light bulb illuminating the supposed center.

“What the-?” Zero hastily asked.

“You are Corbin Zero,” an ominous voice coming from seemingly all directions replied, “and you shall help us eliminate Torvald Hawthorne once and for all.”

“Who the devil are you?” Corbin waited a full minute and much more before he belched, “Answer me, damn it!”

That’s right, Corbin Zero said a swear word. In response, the voice said, “We are the aliens of planet Whipseed, a planet that is dimensions beyond your insignificant earth…”

Over the next hour (which was three months in earth time), Corbin Zero learned that what he performed to top Torvald’s 101 head-spins was actually the forwards version of the Corballschnap. He was the only person in the history of the earth to do this powerful breakdance move. Doing so unlocked a force that gave him superior breakdance power along with the draining of his greatest enemy’s power. Also, the Corballschnap execution proved Corbin to the aliens of Whipseed, so that they may choose him as their prized breakdance warrior to destroy Torvald Hawthorne, the happiest breakdancer who ever lived. Why would anyone want to destroy Torvald? Why, because of his good nature, he could very well have the power to control the breakdancing universe. After learning this information, Corbin Zero set out to eliminate Torvald Hawthorne, once and for all.

Over the next three months (which was one hour Whipseed time), Torvald began to deteriorate. His lively being and muscular build were going faster than Steve Prefontane on speed with rocket boosters strapped to his feet. Hortense spent every waking moment of his days tending to his fallen comrade. The doctor said that Torvald had a mild case of Munchkinitis, a disease which turns the inflicted into Ross Perot, but Hortense knew what was really wrong: Torvald had lost his ability to breakdance. Hortense was a good friend to Torvald, even though Tor could not do much for Hortense except live. Why he stuck by Tor through this period remained a mystery for quite some time.

As Hortense was tending to the skinny boy with the black crew cut, he and Torvald instantly found themselves in a wrestling ring set in a giant area packed with millions upon millions of screaming fans. Not only that, but not one of the audience members seemed to be of this earth.

Now, Torvald had taken one too many Dayquil™ before and seen the walls bleed, but this was ridiculous. He staggered to his feet and vomited a bit into the crowd, who gulped it down with delight.

“Where are we?” A sick Torvald wondered.

“SILENCE!” Came a wrathful, yet vaguely familiar voice. It was Corbin Zero, just in case you didn’t know. He floated down into the ring from somewhere up above.

“Now you will die, Hawthorne!”

Corbin ejaculated a burst of red energy from his mouth, but before it could hit Torvald, Hortense leapt in front of both men, taking the painful blow which knocked half of his skin off, revealing that he was machine, a robot to be exact.

“What the-?” Both Torvald and Corbin asked.

Hotense explained, “That’s right, I’m a cyborg sent to protect you, Torvald, from the clutches of evil so that you may become the master of the breakdancing universe. But I shall soon fail, for Corbin Zero has become more powerful than- dare I say…”

“No he has not!” All three men (we’ll count Hortense as one) whirled around and what they saw made them simultaneously cry out-

“JUDD NELSON!”

Yes, Judd Nelson, in all his washed up glory, stood before the gawking people and began, “Corbin Zero, give Torvald back his breakdancing powers,” and then in a parental tone, “now.”

Corbin obliged, for he did not want to be subject to the wrath of the harsh bully from The Breakfast Club.

And with a mere touch of Torvald, Corbin Zero became Tim Dragon, and Torvald regained his Afro, along with his trademark breakdance ability.

Nelson then proceeded to make the whole world outside the ring fade away into Torvald’s living room. Now that they were back in their dimension, Mr. Nelson erased Tim Dragon’s memory of the Corballschnap, and replaced it with a phony one of Judd Nelson himself winning an academy award for his performance in Transformers: The Movie. Tim got the boot out into the street, and all was well, even though many questions were left unanswered.

Judd Nelson used his former celebrity power, and touched Hortense in the area of the heart, giving him new skin, and something more.

“I’m a real boy!” Hotense squealed with glee.

“My work is done here,” Judd Nelson declared. And with that, he flew out the door, and to save someone else’s day…

And so, kiddies, that is the story of my summer at camp. Wait, that’s a bad thing…I don’t care what you say, nothing happened! <Ahem> Sorry, I get like that sometimes. So, let’s all sit down and do something else. How about throw discarded tissue boxes at Tim Dragon.