Reviewing the troops

"We interrupt this broadcast to bring you a special announcement," said the
clone of Lister over every radio and television channel available. "The
Empire has discovered the existence of an evil, parallel universe. They are
equipped with weapons of mass destruction, so we are therefore going to
pound them into the ground and spit on their remains."
"We feel it is our civic duty to liberate the people of this parallel
universe by grinding their existence into a fragile shell from which they
are highly unlikely to ever recover, making certain that they will never
again suffer in this way. And to stop them using the weapons of mass
destruction, of course."
"We don't exactly know what these weapons are or where they are hidden, but
we're quite sure they exist. We're the government, would we lie to you?
Also, increasing their guilt, none of our weapons inspectors have been
allowed into the universe to inspect for weapons. The fact that we have yet
to acquire a method of transporting people to the other dimension is
irrelevant."
"We therefore call upon every man, woman and child to unite in supporting
our actions at this time, despite the fact that we are only going to tell
you in the vaguest terms why we're pursuing them. And we're instigating a
new series of laws that allows us to have you set on fire and trodden upon
if you refuse to cheer for twenty-three hours of every day because we're so
civic-minded."
"That is all for now. Remember, your government is counting on you to pay
your taxes to support our boys who are out there fighting for your freedom
(according to the new definition). 112% income tax isn't that high, you
know."
Emperors Cerebrum and Keto stood in the elevator. "I thought we banned
elevator music," murmured Keto after a few moments. "Only the kind that
didn't drive lesser mortals insane," replied Cerebrum.
There was a faint ding and the doors opened, revealing row upon row of
armored troops.
With white faces, red noses, brightly colored hair and neon colored armor.
Meson rifles were held in their hands, ointment squirt guns in their
holsters and pies made of ointments in their backpacks. The Killer Clown
Commando Corps were ready for action.
"My, my ,my," said Keto proudly, "They almost make even me quail. So, we're
going to load these troops into our transport ships, lift them into orbit
and then...I want to be sure I'm clear on this...quickly invent a device to
cross universes?"
"That's plan B," replied Cerebrum. "Plan A is that we board the alternate
universe Blue Dwarf, and the Blue Dwarf from our universe, using the new
wormhole drive developed by project Placenta, then beat the crap out of
their crew and take their technology."
"I like Plan A," agreed Keto after a pause. "Now, given that the Blue Dwarf
from our universe is an extraordinarily lethal killing machine, and that the
Blue Dwarf from the alternative universe has as much killing power as the
average dead herring, our first target is to be...?"
"Both of them at the same time," replied Cerebrum, grinning widely. "From
what I can tell from the stuff we injected their Dean with, the two ships
are currently docked with each other."
"Killing two birds with one stone, a perfect use of resources," grinned Keto
along with him, "And hopefully the ointment that those holstered guns are
loaded with should cause enough of a distraction to allow our Killer Clown
Commandos to work with little or no resistance from the two crews. None of
them is a big fan of ferrets, are they?"
"Oh god, not more ferrets. Please tell me they aren't here," gibbered
Cerebrum, grabbing Keto by the lapel. "Please, I can't stand them, not since
that cloning incident."
"Relax, relax," replies Keto, somewhat paranoiacally removing Cerebrum's
hands from his shirt (which might have required a crowbar had Keto not
recently bought out the new 'non-stick lapel' material), "They're in the
guns. The ointment inside will transform any living material it hits into a
ferret. Unless one of our commandos is thoughtless enough to test their gun
here, we're safe."
"Thank god for that," Cerebrum said, wiping the sweat off of his forehead.
Then their was a spraying sound, followed by a popping sound, followed by
some ferrety sounds. Cerebrum leapt off the floor and into Keto's arms.
"We need a replacement Commando," growled Keto, clicking his fingers and
ignoring the yelping as the ferret was dragged out of the pile of equipment
that had once been a Clown Commando, "And will somebody PLEASE administer
the vaccine to our troops!? We don't want THEM turning into ferrets!" That
being said, he dropped Cerebrum.
Cerebrum pulled out a bottle of pills from his pocket, and upended the whole
thing into his mouth. He swallowed noisily, then calmed down. "That's
better. Now, there's one last thing to decide. Should we, as the leaders
either a) lead the troops from the front lines of the battle, impressing
them all with our bravery in the face of near certain death from the rebel
forces, or b) lead them from a heavily armored bunker on board our
flagship?"
Keto blinked for a second, then smiled sickeningly. "Allow me to test our
training," he suggested, and turned to the troops. "You! Clown! Which
should it be?"
"Uh...A, sir?"
There was a loud crackle of sparks and the sound of some equipment falling
to the floor.
"Get a broom and another replacement commando," ordered Keto, "You! Next
clown! What's the answer?"
"B! Sir!"
"Very good," smiled Keto.
"Well, that settles that," Cerebrum chortled, rubbing his hands together.
"Let's send out the troops, then go to our bunker and it's liquor cabinet."
"That's what I like about us," mused Keto, "We do so much for our Empire and
expect nothing in return. You, minion, give me your cloak, it looks better
on me. Good. Anyway, as you were saying...BOARD THE VESSELS!"
With a honking of rubber bladders, the troops saluted, then half turned to
the left, half turned to the right and they walked right into each other.
Cerebrum leaned over to Keto. "Now I remember what the problem of using
clowns as soldiers was."
"A simple solution," replied Keto, before repeating, "BOARD THE VESSELS!"
Once again, half turned to the right and half to the left...and,
fortunately, this time all were facing directly away from the Emperors,
towards the waiting attack craft. "It would be amusing to be there to watch
the battle...but I suppose the live feed from their bladder-mounted cameras
will have to suffice."
"Better than being shot," agreed Cerebrum. And with that, the two Emperors
turned, and marched towards their flagship. Or rather, they snapped their
fingers, then two minions picked them up and carried them to their flagship.
"Work, work, work, work," muttered Cerebrum, as he stepped up onto the
minion's back. "We have to do everything around here."