LOLSCHACH's Journal: May 19, 2009:
Been staying at Dreiberg's for last week or so, told him I would guard his Roost. Lied. Necessary though. Been going through old files of his, looking for insight into mindset that allowed for hero to become nothing more than a grease stain. Found audio recordings on Dreiberg's computer. Could prove useful. Transcribing contents now. Will continue to look for more information on this Roaster.
Testing, testing, one-two, one-two...
All right, this is the Fowl File for October 31, 1984. Subject? My archenemy: The Roaster.
So, how's it going, Computer? How are things with you?
Me? Oh, I’m doing pretty good…. I tackled the Roaster the other night, and I did manage to get him in police custody, but he messed me up pretty bad. He said something about me having "crispy chicken legs," and then there was just this awful pain in my knees and a sort of crunching sound.
But I can walk again. Sort of. Maybe "toddle" is a better word? But you know what Old Knight Fowl always taught me: You gotta play through the pain. I let Addison examine my legs, and he thinks I'll be back to normal in another week or two. He's gonna give me another examination tomorrow, though....
Normal? No, I do have chicken legs. Might as well admit it. And here I am wearing tights, showing them off to the whole world. Do you think that's why the Satin Succubus won't give me the time of day, Computer? Do you think Laura Uranjek hates these shrink-wrapped chicken legs? Or is it my beaky nose? (Come to think of it, that's something else the Roaster mentioned while I was wrestling him: my beaky nose. I looked in the mirror after wards, and you know what, he was right. Admit it, Computer.)
God, I need to stop thinking like this. It's like the Roaster knows how to get inside my mask and push all my buttons. Maybe that's what makes him my archenemy?
[sighs] It's funny, Computer. When I read comic books as a kid, I always loved the idea that every hero has an “archenemy.” I mean, Brainiac was cool and all, but ultimately? He was just the mashed potatoes. Lex Luthor was where it was at. Lex Luthor was the big, juicy drumstick, you know? [chuckles]
I mean, I’d even fantasize about who my archenemy would be when I became a superhero: his code name, his powers, the color of his cape. His tragic origin story. All the awesome gadget-packed fistfights we’d have, with the fate of the city hanging in the balance. It was kind of pathetic, I guess, like little girls plotting out the details of their weddings with some, you know, fairy-tale prince. But, God, it was fun.
It was fun until I actually got an archenemy. God…. [moans]
Anyway, I want to record all this so I don't forget. The Roaster's locked away in Usher Asylum now, but it's only a matter of time 'til he escapes again, and so right now, tonight, I'm going to put together all my information in one, comprehensive file. Starting with -- [Tape ends]
Hey, Computer. You on?
This is real embarrassing. So apparently I droned on for, like, three hours last night after the tape ran out. Oh, and while that was happening, I missed a bunch of calls from my hotline with the Commissioner. Yeah, the Roaster escaped last night from Usher Asylum. That's the seventh time in as many months. This time, they think he squeezed the oil out of a chunk of pound-cake, greased himself up, and squeezed through the bars of his cell.
'Scuse me, Computer. I just got hungry all of a sudden. Sorry about this.
[9 minutes of silence on tape.]
Sorry about that, Computer.
Snorf. So [smacking, chewing sounds] now he's at large again, plotting who knows what, and I still don't have a comprehensive file that pulls together everything I know about him. So, that's what we're working on tonight. I mean, again.
This is the Fowl File for November 1, 1984. Subject is the Roaster, my archenemy.
He first appeared around Christmas, 1981. This guy in a red-and-black sort of leisure suit or tux or disco suit or something (Ozzy would know what to call it), with this really odd face and wig that I can't even describe, starts popping up around town. He's an arsonist -- that's the first thing we know about him -- and he especially likes to burn down comedy lounges and fast-food places. I got involved after he burned down my favorite "Willie Nelson's Smokehouse" chicken place.
God, I miss that place. The chicken had this sort of ... mellow? ... this sort of mellow taste. And it always made you hungry for more. Thinking back on it now, I wish I had thought to do a chemical analysis here in the Roost, to figure out Willie Nelson's secret blend of herbs. But [sighs] that all went up in smoke.
So anyway, the first thing we knew about him was, he was an arsonist. The second thing was, he loved to insult people in the most obnoxious ways. I mean, he would say some really hurtful stuff. Like, there was a ... a sort of large-ish lady who wrote for the newspaper around that time. She had diabetes, and the doctors had to amputate her legs because of the, you know, the blood flow problem. So she's writing about it for the newspaper and spilling her heart out, and then the Roaster sends her this letter, and the letter says something like, "Congratulations on finally finding a good way to lose weight." Just awful stuff like that. There was even a story going around that he made LOLSCHACH cry. I mean, I don't think I actually believe that particular story, but that is pretty much the impression the Roaster gave everybody.
The third thing we learned about the Roaster was, he had it in for Old Knight Fowl and me. One morning, I think it was two weeks before Christmas, all over town as people were coming to work -- right now, I remember City Hall, subway stations, a bunch of schools, uh... the TV networks, some shopping centers, maybe a post office -- all over town, people found these giant, raw turkeys sitting on their desks. They all had a note attached. I have one here in an evidence bag. It says, "Merry Xmas, Giblets! --The Roaster".
At exactly 8:00, the turkeys all exploded. Afterward, I helped the police figure out that the turkeys had been stuffed with chickens, and the chickens had been stuffed with explosives, with these remote-controlled explosives. It was just an awful mess, a public health disaster. The whole city had to be scrubbed down for salmonella.
Poor Old Knight Fowl was just raring to go -- I mean, you can imagine, can't you! -- but honestly, he was in no shape to get involved. His emphysema was acting up, so I insisted he leave the whole Roaster thing to me. When I finally managed to track him down, it was at -- [Tape ends.]