The Almost Report Makes a Big Point About Psychic Wards

[Wyvern]

The news camera visuals fade into a shot of CheerMynx’s bedroom HQ, which has been minimally decorated with leftover “10% Off Discount” confetti and a few sparkly kitten-shaped decorations, but which still feels lonely and somewhat barren in the cheerline’s absence. The cameras pause for a moment at a poster for a boy band labeled “The Howdy Partners,” which features three barbarians posing in tight-fitted western attire with black leather cowboy hats. The cameras zoom in on the “Made in North Zeamire” tags that dangle from the hats in the pic before turning towards CheerMynx’s bedside as scheduled, focusing on… no one. The cameras linger on the bright violet bed sheets for several minutes before turning back to the poster, at which point the worried voices of troglyodytes begin murmering in the background. The worried tones turns to panic as the cameras slowly turn back to the bedside only to find it empty again, and two troglyodye news people race across the screen shouting to one another. After several minutes of little activity, a sign is placed in front of the central camera lens that reads:

 

Da Almost Report Will Be Back in 5 10 25 Minutes. Stay Toons.

 

After what feels like an hour of zero activity on the Report front, the sign is finally lifted from the cameras to reveal two troglyodytes tugging off the last bits of Wyvern’s straightjacket. The overgrown lizard hisses a long sigh and raises a claw to the cameras, tossing the brochure for Doctor Evil’s “Asylum for the Un-Criminally Sane” to the side and rolling his beady eyes to the ceiling.

 

“Heya, and welcome to another Almossst Report, I ssss’pose.” Wyvern snorts as a troglyodyte hands him a packet of pages labeled “Skript.” He hisses something under his breath and tosses the packet over his shoulder with a flick of his wings. “I guesss we’re sssticking with the Report regardless of the Almost Intern void, or sssso they tell me. *Ahem* So uhhh, ssstay tuned for plenty o’ interesting Report material, including an ad campaign for Almost Dragonic Brand Troglyodyte Wards,™ which have just begun to go into development.”

 

Wyvern glares at the troglyodytes that pulled him out of the Asylum, then turns to another troglyodyte who’s holding a cue card and pointing at it urgently. The overgrown lizard shrugs and scratches his chin as he considers what to report on the spot, snapping a claw as one event comes to mind.

 

“As long as we’re sssticking with the Report thisss week, I’d like to extend my best belated birthday wishes to Stick aka The Big Pointy One.” Wyvern snatches a bag of Almost Dragonic Brand Products from the floor and begins sorting through it in a hasty manner. “Remind me to sssend him some Almost Dragonic Brand Stick Figurine Toothpicks™ in the near future, along with some Almost Dragonic Brand Adoptable Rubber Pet Portraits™ for Toilet Duck to snack on. Hope ya had a great one, Stick.”

 

Wyvern once again ignores the frantic signals of the troglyodyte with the cue cards, drooping his wings and raising a claw to his head as a long and awkward moment of silence passes. The overgrown lizard stretches and yawns, then reaches for the “Asylum for the Un-Criminally Sane” brochure that he’d tossed on the bed and slowly scoops it up. He takes his time as he re-opens the brochure and flips through it, not even bothering to make eye contact with the cameras.

 

“Oh, and in other Pen birthday newsss, the Almost Report would also like to extend its belated birthday wishesss to Psimon, who also celebrated recently.” Wyvern glances over the different colors of wall padding available at Doctor Evil’s quarters. “I wonder what he’d think of thisss psychic ward, might be a nice recreational resort for him. Hope it went well, Psssimon.”

 

Wyvern snaps the brochure shut and falls back onto the bed, swinging his tail aimlessly and raising his claw to his head again as he stares up at the ceiling.

 

“That’ssss about it I think? Sssay, what’ssss with all the birthdays lately? What day’sss it anyway?”

 

A moment of silence passes before another news troglyodyte scurries into the range of the camera lens, carrying a calender in one of his webbed hands. The troglyodyte raises the calender and points at it, then whispers something into Wyvern’s ear and turns to wander off.

 

“WHAT?” Wyvern bolts upright on CheerMynx’s bed, his eyes suddenly wide and his face alert. The troglyodyte dashes off in double-time as Wyvern scrambles off of the bed and begins brushing the scales back on his head and cleaning the dust off his pants with his tail. “But that means – you mean that CheerMynxie is gonna - and we’re not – but how’d I not-???”

 

Wyvern slams his tail down and begins barking orders.

 

“You, go get refreshments! You, we’re gonna need more sssparklers! You, Bruteweiser, pronto!” Wyvern paces left and right, then snatches a wide piece of paper and begins scrawling “Welcome Back CheerMynx!” in his messy almost dragonic hand. “You, fetch me the makeup crew! You, book the forklifts! You, we’re gonna want the Almost Report medley when she entersss! You, keep’em rolling, you getting all this?!”

[CheerMynx]

"Wyvie?" CheerMynx's voice froze Wyvern in his tracks in a combination of joy at seeing the Almost Intern again and panic at not having prepared properly. Before the Almost Dragon could make any more attempts to build a welcome party, the cheerline had rounded the corner, the lightest bag in her paws while a small army of grumbling kitten minions carried what looked like supplies for Africa.

Wyvern's jaw gaped slightly as he saw CheerMynx again for the first time in weeks. She was dressed in a bright pink mock up of an air hostess' uniform (a miniature version, shall we say), and had a wide if slightly tired grin on her face.

"Ch-CheerMynx!" Wyvern cried out and ran to give her a hug. CheerMynx laughed and hugged Wyvern back, before she started speaking at a mile-a-minute.

"It's like so totally great to see you Wyvie and we definitely need to catch up and chat and stuff and I think I have something for you in these bags but I TOTALLY have to go right now I need a shower and to get my claws done and my classes start in like two hours so I'll like talk to you after I'm all unpacked and everything okay?"

With that, the cheerline disentangled herself from Wyvern's Almost Dragonic Not Quite Effective Death Grip ™, kissed him on the cheek and flounced off, leaving a dazed and happy Almost Dragon in her wake.

 

 

OOC: I'm, like, baaaaaaaaack

[Wyvern]

Wyvern stammers and swoons over CheerMynx's long lost affection, clutching at thin air with his Not Quite Effective Death Grip as he watches the Almost Intern wander off. He stares intently at the gyrating motions of the cheerline's tail end as she exits, then wipes the dreamy look from his beady eyes and raises his claws to his cheeks in an attempt to hide the deeper shade of red that's passed over them. Wyvern clears his throat and shifts his tail to the side to leave more room for the kitten minions to march on through, hissing sweet nothings to the air.

 

"Th-th-the triumphant return of CheerMynx, ladiessss and gentlemen!" Wyvern strikes a toothy grin and turns with rejuvanated enthusiasm, his scaly arms still locked into Death Grip position and beginning to cramp. "We should be back to our regularly ssscheduled brand of questionable programming next week. Y'know, as oppossssed to the not-so-regularly scheduled even-more-questionable brand of programming we've had for the last couple Reportsss."

 

Wyvern hisses giddily over CheerMynx's return and jitters at the thought of her actually having something for him in her baggage. He flaps his wings with glee and claps his claws together until he notices that the line of kitten luggage carriers is still going strong, with the continous flow of expensively tagged crates spelling out "spending galore."

 

"Errr, unfortunately, it ssseems that our efforts to boost the Almost Intern Fashion Fund for CheerMynx's return may have been in vain." Wyvern strikes a worried look as he gazes out the front door of CheerMynx's quarters and finds kitten minions carrying heavy loads for as far as the eye can see. "Heck, I hope the current Fashion Fund isn't in jeopardy... how many bags ARE there???"

 

Wyvern lifts his claws to his snout to brood for a moment, then snaps a claw and sets about barking orders again.

 

"You, go calculate the Report sssavings! You, fetch some warm milk saucers for the kitten transports! You, book me a flight on whatever airline CheerMynx got that outfit from! You, stop rolling! Cut!"