Late Night from Earth Bet · 3:03pm Oct 2nd, 2015
Another side-piece for A Friend in Need.
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On the 15th of May in 2011 the course of destiny on Earth Bet changed. The most feared monster in human history was slain, and humanity was shown power that literally shook the heavens. The changes wrought in this fateful night would be felt for generations.
On the 16th of May much of humanity was still recovering from the celebrations as well as reeling from having their world view, and world, spun around. Most simply tried to get on with their lives. Some looked at the potential dangers in a world where humanity, even parahumanity, had been overshadowed. Some sought potential opportunities in the new world emerging. And some saw a different sort of material to work with.
As the 16th drew to a close on the eastern seaboard, visitors from afar rested in luxury, preparing for new challenges in the day to come. Through the night the leaders, generals, and masterminds of Earth Bet maneuvered to find their footing on a greatly changed field. Meanwhile, other players took the stage to reveal the fruit of their efforts.
Late Night from Earth Bet
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One of the most recognizable figures in North America shuffled the notes on his desk before addressing the audience and the cameras with a gap-toothed grin.
“So, some major events took place over this weekend. The news shows have been going over what happened and the consequences, but for those of us in other areas of broadcasting one of the biggest questions has been, ‘What time is it?’” The host looked over to the studio band, “I mean, it’s kind of tough to put shows on the air in the right time slots when the whole planet gets shoved two hours ahead and the day gets four hours shorter.”
The band leader nodded, “The mess when daylight savings comes around has nothing on this.”
“True, true.” The host turned back to the camera. “Fortunately, Her Royal Highness was kind enough to put the 24 hour day back into effect after the big party wound down, but that left us with the problem of resetting all the clocks when we still weren’t sure what time they should be set to. So we called the United States Naval Observatory in Washington DC. These are the people responsible for keeping track of time down to the nanosecond for the US government and military. And this is what we heard from them.”
The audio of a phone line ringing came up as the host gestured. After two rings, a blandly polite and clearly recorded voice began speaking, “At the tone, the time will be,” the host made a show of listening closely, “whatever time Princess Luna says it is.” The host put on a puzzled look as the voice continued with a tone of annoyance creeping in. “There’s no point in calling us anymore, we obviously aren’t the ones in charge here. I don’t even know why I’m still here answering the phone. The Orbital Mechanics Department wandered off three hours ago, and at that point they were half-dressed and painting crude pony pictures on the walls. At least I think it was three hours ago.” The host appeared to be concerned and sympathetic as the voice rambled on with growing confusion and a hint of desperation. “I mean, what does ‘an hour’ actually mean at this point? Used to be we were the ones answering that question but now it’s all up to a pretty pony princess with glitter-hair…dozens of atomic clocks and they may as well be boat anchors…” The audience could be heard laughing as the voice seemed to drift off in thought.
“BANG!” The host jumped in exaggerated surprise as the sound of an impact came over the line and the voice returned with determination. “Right. That’s it. I’m not dealing with this anymore. At the tone, it will be time for whiskey.” The short “beep” that followed was particularly comical sounding in the midst of this, and was followed by the “click” of the phone hanging up.
The host blinked a few times before turning back to the band leader. “I think they may need a day or three to sort things out.”
“Depends on how long those days turn out to be,” came the reply.
The audience laughed again as the host simply nodded at this observation.
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On another station the bespectacled comedic commentator started his show with his usual over-the-top delivery, bringing his head up dramatically to face the camera as swelling music and what was supposedly the cry of a bald eagle sounded in the background. Images of the Statue of Liberty and waving stars and stripes drifted on the screens behind him.
“Tonight, questions remain about Governor Gregory’s ties to the Elite. Are they getting their money’s worth?”
As the audience laughed, he snapped his head to the left to stare intensely into a different camera.
“On Saturday, Florence Harris and Bobby Webster both ended their presidential campaigns, because hardly anybody cared. And I can say, with utmost confidence, that nobody cares about them right now.”
The laughter built as his gaze shifted again to a new camera.
“Because whatever anyone else may have been up to over the weekend, the equine illegal aliens really killed it last night.”
The audience erupted with laughter and cheers. The commentator’s intense seriousness faded and was replaced with an elated smile as he waited.
“Yes, the Simurgh is dead, and she bit the big one on American soil.”
Chants of “U.S.A.” could be heard in the background.
“At least I hope it’s still American soil. I don’t know if having a foreign head of state drop in and oversee this sort of extreme landscaping might be the equivalent of planting a flag. But if these aliens, who I notice keep on bypassing proper immigration procedures, think for one moment…Oh, who am I kidding?” He hung his head, hiding his face from the camera and audience. “Just like Flo Whatshername’s political career I just. Don’t. Care right now.”
Raising his head, he revealed a manic grin splitting his face.
“Because I am as giddy as a schoolgirl who got to watch a sparkling unicorn princess rip a leg off an Endbringer and then blast it with a rainbow.” Howling laughter and applause accompanied him as he mimed pulling something out of the air while saying, “A leg,” then raised his hand in a curving arc before driving his fingers towards the desktop before him, “and a rainbow.”
“As much as is pains me, as a proud American, to say this, Princess Luna and the recently confirmed Princess Twilight Sparkle are the most Endbringer killing political leaders in history.” Images of the two ponies appeared to his left as two icons of American history did so to his right. “Not even George Washington or Abraham Lincoln killed as much Endbringer as these two.” A scoreboard reading, “Ponies 1, Presidents 0,” floated at the bottom of the screen. “So, I congratulate them and I’m going to lay off the criticism and give them the credit they deserve,” pulling a kitchen timer from behind the desk, he wound it with audible clicking and ringing sounds, “for this long.”
He milked the line for a bit more laughter while gesturing with the timer and causing a few ringing sounds by tapping it with a finger before setting it off to the side.
“In the meantime, I can finally throw my long-awaited End of an Endbringer party. Jimmy, let ’er rip!” Lights flashed and booming dance music played as balloons fell from above. Balloons with hardly any air in them and a thick coating of dust. The parody pundit blew some of the fallen fluff off his desk before admitting, “They’ve been up there a while.”
I always looked forward to your omakes and sopchoppy's main story.
Keep them coming!
So the first one's Letterman (or maybe Leno?) and I think the second is Jon Stewart? Maybe? I don't watch much late night tv.
I'm pretty sure Stephen Colbert was the one who gave orders to an off-screen "Jimmy".
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I can't tell the difference between Stephen Colbert and Rick Mercer to be honest. They're just too similar.
Awesome work, love this little side-stories/omakes.
Keep up the great work.
Oh this was glorious, I'd say you perfectly captured two of my fav talk show hosts. I just couldn't stop laughing at the jokes and grinning right alongside them as enjoyed the fact that they FINALLY WON!