Wonder Woman: Mamma Mia.

[Guy Gardener]

Part One.

Etta married well. Phill’s Army pension afforded the two of them a very nice home with all the modcons in a splendid suburban neighbourhood that was completely free of Italians, but nothing could have prepared Etta Blankenship for their honeymoon, when her groom took an authentic looking Wonder Woman costume out of a garment bag, put it on, tied her up and made the plump clerk feel like a real woman, although Phil could have shaved his legs above the knee the day before, but real men cut corners. The door bell rang, dong-ding, so Etta responded with a short shrift, double time, almost stepping on their dog, skipping to the foyer past her scotch ridden snoring husband, asleep in front of the football, who gets a kiss on the cheek for being adorably predictable, to welcome into her home a friend from the end of the world, but... It’s the wrong friend.

Still on the threshold, barring the bookish nag from her interiors “Diana, what are you doing here? I’m sorry I don’t understand? Where’s Wonder Woman? I invited Woman to dinner, not you. Darling I love you but I want to talk to Wonder Woman. We have an enormous problem, and only she can save Steve Trevor.” Etta and Diana hug like bosom friends who are completely emotionally attuned, because someone cool has to look after an annoying loser like Diana Prince, and that is Etta Candy ne Blankenship’s cross to bear.

Diana Prince, a civilian disguise for the world’s most naive super hero, struts into the Blankenship living room “Oh Etta, don’t be silly, you know that I’m Wonder Woman. I never believed you were fooled by an austere pair of frumpy glasses. I look like a grandmother with no sense of humour. It is such a laugh.”

“Diana? What?” Shock and horror doesn’t even begin to describe what’s going on with this lady.

“Etta you can be so funny sometimes, stop pretending.” Diana unpins her hair, so it’s hard to tell if she is woman or super woman anymore.

Etta can feel an aneurysm blistering “NO! It isn’t true! It isn’t true!” Etta puts her hands over her ears, starts squealing, and runs back into the kitchen to check on the veal.

Diana twirls around, there’s the usual magical explosion which doesn’t cut into Phil’s nap-time, and she is finally completely Wonder Woman in her formal attire with the pull away dress, and star spangled cape. The Amazon’s bright wardrobe was becoming tired for 1955, even after that wretch Hugo Boss himself had promised to make a new wonder woman suit to thank her for liberating his factories, but Diana declined, because Boss would burn in hell soon enough for collaborating with the NAZIs, but she was ready for a change, if it felt right. Or maybe she could go blonde like mother?

Wonder Woman effeminately prances after Etta into the massive Kitchen, past General Blankenship Retired sawing log, drooling like a water buffalo eating a baby giraffe, to console her friend who is freaking the hell out over nothing. Diana of Paradise Island is Diana Prince of Long Beach California, Diana of Long Beach California is Diana of Paradise Island, it’s not like someone had brainwashed the poor woman... Oh.

Etta has her head in the oven.

At 300 degrees, that’s not great.

Diana needs super human strength to extract Etta from the recess oven by her granny panties, then smooshes the woman of the house’s delirious beetroot countenance in the kitchen sink and turns up a faucet to full blast, which is probably as bad as water boarding, but water boarding has not been invented yet. Basic First-Aid. Run a burn under cold water for 15 minutes, so her nose does not fall off. 25 minutes later, Etta’s face is red. A little from shame, but mostly from baking her epidermis into a crust.

“Oh Wonder Woman, I am so glad to see you, Diana was here just a few moments ago telling the most worst lies. She’s crazy I tell, barking mad, she thinks she’s you! Diana Prince thinks that she is Wonder Woman! Isn’t that just the craziest thing? The craziest thing. Just crazy. Crazy. Wonder Woman, why does my face hurt?”

Honesty first, Wonder Woman explains why her gal pal is having a psychotic break, and how unfortunately it is definitely all her fault. “I’m sorry Etta, in the beginning, when I first came to America, I needed to come and go from the war office without attracting attentio - ”

“With a bust like that Wonder Woman all you do is attract attention, you have such a keen figure. Why aren't I beautiful like you? Is there like a lake on Paradise Island with magic water, that if I drink it, it will make me beautiful, like you are? Please take me swimming in the magic pretty water, I have water wings.”

“But you are beautiful Etta, on the inside.”

“Ahh gee wiz Wonder Woman, I don’t want to be beautiful on the inside, I want to be beautiful on the outside, so that young guys will whistle at me and grab my ass, its the only way I have any value, I never got any real attention back when I was young and thin. It’s just not fair, the only person at work worse off than me was that skinny dunce old maid Diana Prince, woof woof! She’s all elbows and knees, nothing to hold on to, no one is going to marry her unless they are blind as a bat, because Diana Prince is so plain, so ordinary, she’s no Wonder Woman. I feel sad for how stringy she is, I bet her mother is a homely bearded lady from the circus too. I wish I was you Wonder Woman.”

“Etta, but I am Diana Prince.”

“Nahhhhhh. No, no, no... You can’t go fooling me Wonder Woman. You’re Diana Prince? HA! That’s flipping hilarious! You should write for Jack Wood.”

“No Etta, It’s true, and I think I finally understand what is happening. When I first arrived in America, I used my lasso of truth to compel you to make identification papers, and service records, so that I could work close to Steve, and then I made you forget that it had happened, and to never question whether Diana Prince is Wonder Woman or if Wonder Woman is Diana Prince. I possibly could have phrased that better.”

“Well of course I would never question whether Diana Prince is Wonder Woman, That’s simply bonkers, I mean if that was true, I’d be an idiot and my life would be a massive lie. My lie isn’t a lie. My life isn’t a lie... Wonder Woman, I feel ill.”

Diana puts her golden lasso of truth around Etta Blankenship’s neck “Remember Etta, remember who I am.”

The scales fell from the former secretary’s eyes “You bitch!”

Every muscle in Eta’s body starts twitching like she’s a hulk...

“Etta, I love you, this has all been a tragic misunderstanding.”

“Sure Wonder Bozo, why don’t you lean in so I can give you a fat lip and I’ll show you how much I care about what you think!”

 

[Guy Gardener]

Part Two.

Phil picked up a sword, mounted his horse and started killing Hun. 40 years later he’s being fattened up by suburbia and a good little woman, but before that, he was the God of War. Priorities change. Previously when he was younger, Ares liked pushing Greek City States past the brink, leading to the slaughter of 10’s of thousands of half naked mostly gay dudes, prime entertainment, but now he has TV. TV is wicked keen. Regardless, the General woke up to a kerfuffle where Wonder Woman was throwing his wife into a ceiling fan. Women are like children, always squabbling over cooking recipes or who has the squarest rose beds.

“No! You! Stop that!” The general gets up from his recliner buddy, launching himself towards his old lady’s defence from this nearly nude Amazon. “Leave my girl alone or I’ll tan your bare hide with a switch you ungrateful little halfling.”

The princess in satin tights sees Etty’s husband approach with speed, but despite Diana being the greatest warrior of this or any other time, Phillip cups his hand around her neck, and lifts the 2 and a half thousand year old beauty pageant thin girl a foot off the ground, so that her boots are tussling to find a footing. “I thought that you were raised better than this Diana. Your Father would be ashamed of you!” He’s cutting the circulation off to her brain, so she’s going to pass out in a few seconds.

“But, but, but I don’t have a father.” Aaaaaaaaand she’s spent.

 

[Guy Gardener]

Part Three.

Diana shot her mother.

Hippolyta deflected the bullet with her unbreakable feminum bracelets, then another bullet, then another bullet, then another bullet.

Then Diana just threw her gun at her mom. “LIAR!”

“Oh hush darling, you are in such a mood, maybe you should have a little opium?”

“Opium is your answer to everything.”

“Well some mornings I can’t even get out of bed until after I’ve lit my pipe.”

“Tell me about my father, I DARE YOU!”

“Oh honey, I was crying so hard one morning on the beach, that my tears mixed in with the local clay, and I molded a baby, a bobbin I could poor all of my love into, and I did, and you started crying, and the mud became skin and bone, my beautiful little mud baby.”

“Oh no.”

“What?”

“You shouldn’t say that.”

“Say what?”

“Never mind, that story is a huge pile of horse hockey. I want the truth! Who is my father?”

“Oh Diana, you really don’t want to hear about that.”

“Mother!”

“Many years ago in an idyllic Grecian beach house, I spent a long weekend with three handsome brothers with rough hands.”

“Mother!”

“It was a different time. I used to find men interesting. Sexually. Sometimes for hours.”

“Mother!”

“A few months later, it was just easier to tell them all that they were your father, so that maybe one of them would look after us, but the three of them, all married by the way, none of them cared about us. Bastards.”

“Who is my father?”

“How on Earth would I know that darling?”

 

[Guy Gardener]

Part Four.

4a.

Swifter than the Canadian Northwest Territorial wind, more pertinent than a dozen milk bottles the inalienable power of godly freight forwarding made manifest in one mostly naked over sun tanned dude wearing a hubcap on his head is Mercury: Messenger of the Gods, about his business super-sonically to hit up a triplicate of dead beat dads who are not living up to their responsibilities.

Mercury dives under the sea to go seek out his uncle Poseidon, an erratic scamp who once convinced a bar wench, that as the king of sea, then he was obviously the king of the Semen as well, so he did not have to put a rubber on before he filled her up to the gills with his swimmers. Mortals that dumb should be forbidden from breeding. The two gods meet, express the usual trivialities, Hermes hands over a gold laced parchment, a very legal and binding summons from the hurt party left to toil with dirty linen raising a god baby for centuries, demanding restitution, damages, and compounded interest.

Neptune reads the brief.

“Lying bitch! I gave that dank seahag a magic invisible island!”

4b.

Stronger than a hydra’s under arm perspirant, more dedicated than a dog with a dinosaur bone. The little golden wings on Hermes magic sandals are flapping harder than a humming bird who thinks he’s going to get some. The UPS for Ephemerals climbs to the heights of the universe, Mount Olympus, where his daddy lives, sucking off the milk and honey of immortality. An ancient beardo soaked in goat gravy, sits on a thrown whimsically thrown lightning bolts where-ever.

“Hey Daddio, do I have another sister?” The messenger passes on another legal brief claiming that Jupiter left Hippolyta destitute in her hour of need.

Zeus reads the brief.

“Lying bitch! I gave that mangy harpy the strength and invulnerability of the gods!”

4c.

Mercury is slick, it’s like he’s surfing on a giant wave when he’s just sitting down. Faster than mighty mouse, more powerful than SHAZAM, he can deliver any letter, anywhere in the world, often in less than 80 days. Mercury belly flops through the line between the living and dead to see his grimist uncle, which is saying something, since his family has serious issues. Granddad ate dad, aunty ejaculated out of Grandad's lopped off scrota, and then there was a million years of orgies before they invented animals and mortals to have sex with instead.

“How y’doing Unks? Got some paper work for you.”

Lorde Hades dread lord of Tartarus and the Elysium fields, reads through the writ and summons offered to him.

“Lying bitch! I gave that moldy Gorgon eternal youth and never ending life!”

4d.

Three Gods and a baby. It had been two and a half thousand years. Surely the little ganat was walking by now? The three brothers packed their shit, and per the instructions of the binding contracts they had received, each believing that they were the sole culprit of a single insemination, made great haste towards the scene of the deed, a little beach house secreted in isle of Greece, where a skinky blond Amazon who had schooled these mighty adventurous wonders on some of the most depraved sexual contortions known to the ancient world, and left them breathless. Although let’s be honest about this, for however speedy these old blokes might think they are, their erg looks like a snail being chased by a pigeon compared to indefatigable Mercury at full tilt.

Allons-y!

 

[Guy Gardener]

Part 5.

Late 1939.

Steven Rockwell Trevor, one day super war hero of the United States, but already something very fair to look at and not any one you’d ever throw out of bed for eating crackers, a real hunk, Jesus seriously, this sexy dude is like licking a vanilla bean ice cream inside the dread spoils of searing August, levelled his service pistol at the two General Blankenships. “I don’t know what sort of sick Nazi trick this is, but I’ll shoot both of you before I fall prey to some dirty Ratzie plot to steal our printing plates for the first war bond!”

One of the two old men, in exactly the same uniform, pushing each other around, almost comically, like stooges, yelps “Shoot him Steve! That one! That one! His eyes are too close together! He’s not me!” They’ve got each other in a neck lock. LIKE STOOGES! Is this a serious existential threat, or are these two silly buggers just a couple of ducky shincrackers?

“Why I oughta...We’re both bullet proof you idiot!” The War God’s doppelganger detracts.

“Hey Buddy!” The General’s twin begins. “I’m incognito here, don’t you ruin this for me. I’m passing for mortal!”

Steve Shoots one of them randomly, and yes the bullet does bounce off a granite hard invincible bicep, but God magic is impossible to Steve Trevor at this stage in his development, so “No, it can’t be it’s just a trick of the light...”

Which is when two Etta candy’s wrestle their way 5 feet off the ground and through a division window between reception and Steve’s War Office office.

“You took my face you vampire ghoul witch! Give it the heck back! Or I’ll cut it off!” screeches 1939 Etta Candy rolling around on the lush carpet with her double... Which is kinda sexy? “Steve! SHOOT HER TOO! Shoot the twit!”

Trevor only has three bullets left, he didn’t think that he would need even one when he woke up in the morning next to beautifully blond Marcia, singing him praises about his supernatural efforts in the bedroom last night. “Etta, get off Etta. Leave yourself alone. Is that right? That sounds right? What the hell is going on!?”

The two General Blankenships shrug, and the two Etta Candy’s start kicking each other in the shins, because there can only be one.

The elder Phil separates the two women, puts a consolatory arm around his wife’s shoulder and leads her to a bench in the corner of Steve’s office “This way darling.”

“Woah! Woah! Woah!” The first Etta is scared above no bodies business “You better well be some plastic surgery German spy sardine party, and not me from the future, because no offense General, I bet your balls sag down past your knees, and I ain’t having none of that! I’m not marrying any stud over 25 years old!”

Steve thinks seriously about shooting himself.

The younger yet identical version of Ares, the eternal god of unending war, who seems to be amused by the idea of riding this little spit fire Candy hard and putting her away wet, explains to the Army Major he met only weeks ago “Time travel creates duplicates Steve. If I want to go back to my life before right now, or if that handsome devil goes back in time, I’d have to kill him, because we both can’t live the same life on top of each other, or perishably for one thing, my parents, masters of the universe, are not going to buy two sets of Christmas Presents just because I can’t clean up my own mess.”

Etta joins the conversation “I’m not sharing my mom with that fat head!” and raises both fists at her other self.

As the oldest god of War, Ares from 1955 lays down the law, or at least his expectations of what is to follow... “Fortunately I don’t want to go back to my life, either of them, as either Phil Blankenship or Ares god of war... I’ve been working the angles and I don’t think that there’s a God of Television, and I would just love to get into that racket. You good with that son?” Phil propositions his younger self.

“What the hell is television?” The minute General grumbles.

Steve weaves his pistol around some more as if he’s someone dangerous they should be paying attention to “You traveled through time? Even for a god, that has to be dangerous... America is on the brink of joining the global war, I can only assume that the next few weeks are going to be a series of intricate negotiations, until we kick the door down to the Reichstag and take home all their beer. The world is at stake, but this all seems so damn small...”

Old Ares cuts to the chase “You’re dipping your wick in a NAZI inkwell.”

“What? I’m bagging a German? Is it Bernie”?

“No.”

“How about Sandra?”

“No.”

“Not Alice?”

“No.”

“Certainly Pauline?”

“No.”

“Grettel definitely like she’s a member of the master race?”

“No.”

“What about that dumpling Hilda?”

“No, you complete and total utter herpes scared degenerate Whore, it’s Marcia... Marcia is an agent for the AXIS and if you don’t button it up right now, you’re going to get her pregnant.”

There are wheels turning very slowly in Major Trevor’s head “This doesn’t seem right.”

“Steve you don’t want to raise a half Nazi bastard. Society will burn you.”

“I’ll marry her!”

“Spies are shot.”

Steve feels sick to his stomach “There’s something very wrong going on here General...”

“Major we’ve gone to a lot of effort to come all the way back here...”

“Exactly! The world is on Fire! You’re a god, this is magic, and rather than using all that power to put the fire out, you want to kill my son. That’s just crazy! Murdering my child can’t be more important than saving millions of soldiers on both sides from a senseless months long war.”

Phil’s volume increases threefold “Your son has a little Charlie Chaplin Mustache and he is going to goose step out of Marcia’s lady parts.”

Steve reaches a logical conclusion, that family comes first “No one, not even a god is going to kill my son!’ Steve Trevor, man at arms, stabs the general in the eye with his pistol, and then fires the gun three times from already inside his brain, which ricochets’ boop-boop-boop inside his bullet proof crown, dicing Lord Ares’ grey matter into gun powder pudding.

Mars keels over, and Phil’s human wife from the future is gripping his remains like an open sack of potatoes, wailing like Dido screaming about the end of the universe.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

The last Mars standing delineates “You have to kill her too Steve, they’ll both go insane, and then melt, if you don’t. Kill the girl. NOW! Quickly.”

Etta came back in time to save a man that just fucked her life. Irony! “You heard him! I don’t want to go on without my Silly Filly! Howdy Doody looking clown ass! KILL ME STEVE! KILL ME”

“I’m outta bullets.” Steve Trevor apologizes to the distressed twin lady.

Feeling like it’s time to preserve her own good standing, Etta Candy beats down Etta Blankenship with a steel folding chair until her descendants face is caved in, 5 of her ribs have punctured her heart, one of her arms is segmented and she’s finally stopped twitching.

Etta Junior justifies everything “I’m really confused, but I feel relief, I’ll go make some coffee. You all want coffee? Great.”

Ares grits his teeth... “You can’t have her Steve, I saw her first, she is mine.”

 

[Guy Gardener]

Part 6.

They are bastards.

Three big hairy lads struggling with a panicking woman by her ankles, keeping her upside down and face first into a pail of sea water, and then the prettiest princess this side of Elizabeth of Briton, put her tiny foot into the bucket too, wedging her heel into her older sister’s chin, to make sure that Diana was really-really stuck in there good and drowning proper, since escape seems all but inevitable, given her history of never ever losing at anything ever even once.

Drop dead cutey Drusilla second in line to the throne, contends “Now I think I understand what we’re trying to do here: It’s a very-very low tech Paternity test. When this is over, is Diana going to thank us or kill us? She seems very determined to do the exact opposite of what she asked us to do to her only a few moments ago.” They (Zeus, Neptune, Hades and Wonder Girl.) are all shook this way and that by olive tanned thighs that can crack walnuts, and flailing windmill arms that could easily strike any one of these gods infertile if she accidentally connects where they house their baby batter. “You know the beach is thirty feet away, over there, this is entirely the worst way to smother a woman wearing the girdle of Hestia. Why not keep her head in the bucket AND throw her in the ocean too, so that she is double drowned, and none of us lose an eye?”

“Shut up girl! This is hard enough as it is without your winsome nattering!” Zeus screams at the attractive child. Drusilla is not a child. Maybe she is a child? She’s a thousand years old, but she looks like a 17 year old mortal, but the princess is treated like a 12 year old moron by almost every person who has ever met her. Legally consent is a little murky, but no one is asking or worse “not asking” for consent. Zeus is definitely yelling at a child, and she is definitely attractive, but older than all the cities in the world. This is wrong. Not as wrong as murdering a woman in a bucket, but that’s where we are.

Drusilla sums up “So we’re trying to drown my sister!”

Poseidon continues “Yes, yes, but if she can’t drown, because she can breathe underwater, then Princess Diana is my offspring, a goddess and heir to the seas and oceans of world and all the beasts that live there within. I’m definitely sure, she will start breathing any second now. Definitely my child, she has my ass, a swimmers ass!”

Drusilla’s voice is wavering as her body is being tossed side to side like a rag doll, trying to keep Wonder Woman down “But if she doesn’t figure out how to respirate water, yet continues to live, it’s clear that she can’t die!”

“Which makes her mine!” Master of Perdition, Lord Pluto’s booming voice could wake the dead, and it usually does most mornings.

“Good for you Pluto! I’m rooting for you... But if she drowns, and dies, then she is Lord Jupiter’s beloved love child?” Wonder Girl puts the icing on the cake of the worlds dumbest plan, and snaps her ankle on her gorgeous sisters symmetrical face. “GEE WIZZZ! Holy smokes that smarts! OW! OW! Phooey! OW!” Dru is thrown to one side, and can’t get up, because the world has turned white, and if she looked, she wonders if her foot is hanging on by a string of tendons or less? “I said, you stupid idiots IF SHE DROWNS AND DIES then she is a child of Zeus!”

“You’re trying to make a point girl, but I can’t seem to fathom it?” Poseidon consoles Drusilla’s mysterious point with care.

Dru hacks away at all the flowery language for the older generation of squares who are not exactly with it “Death is bad!”

“Death is bad? I can’t say I’ve ever really thought about it?” Hades stoops to condescend.

The three gods keep on doing what they are doing, and Diana seems like she’s probably going to be dead quite very soon.

“Stop it you morons! You’re killing her!” Drusilla wished there was a Roman god of Logic somewhere? Minerva? Nope. Not here.

Diana goes limp.

“Relax tiny loud child” Zeus placates. ”We are playing with you. There’s almost ten minutes between a mortal passing out from downing, and when they actually die.”

“Right. Oh. That’s a relief. So the experiment is over. Zeus is the father. Everyone is satisfied?” Drusilla can’t believe that all of these bad men have been inside her mother.

“Not yet. The Wonder Woman is clever. She may only be pretending to be unconscious, to slip our grasp. We’ll all stay the course for another 9 minutes.”