MOLEMAN'S EPIC RAP BATTLES!
Thanks for the ride there, Uncle Ben; I shouldn't be long, so don't go far.
I'll get the scoop on Brundle, then earn cash enough for my own car,
'Cause when the Bugle wakes 'em up to this real-life Amazing Fantasy,
Our sales'll smash the Globe, and Triple-J will pay me handsomely!
Who am I? Just your friendly neighborhood rookie reporter,
Looking into you and your machine that breaks time-space's borders.
I trust you won't mind my swinging-by; I won't disrupt at all:
I'll be as harmless an observer as a fly upon your wall!
Wait, who let you in?! Press can't yet be let to see my labor's fruits!
Boy, you're in Pleasantville no more; trespassers here will be rebuked!
Poor Peter Parker's but a pitiful, nearsighted little geek-clown;
When he comes into my parlor uninvited, he'll get beat-down!
Like your playdates with ol' Skip, I won't let you go unmolested.
Feel that tingling? That's your common sense saying: put this schtick to rest, kid!
You're erected by that redhead Watson chick; that much is plain,
But if you think she'll get with you, you've hit a different Mary Jane!
It's clear you don't get out much, sir, and though I didn't mean any trouble,
If a dick is what you choose to be here, brace for my rebuttal:
I can weave a tangled web of words to rival Walter Scott;
A natural at diss-selection who knows how to take a shot!
Your style makes me want to vomit; I spit gold when my fly verses bloom:
Mind-blowing rhymes so sick, they'll make your head asplode like Scanners!
Be afraid, very afraid: I'll mess you up worse than my first baboon;
Leave you turned inside-outwards in a most grotesque of manners.
You may think you'll change the world, but I'll be having none of that crap:
I've seen transport-pods more practical in West Virginia transit!
As a Trekker, I'd suspect your tech's a clone-creating deathtrap!
To be backing it, Bartok must make Oscorp look soundly-managed.
Sure, that ape became spaghetti, but my finished pods aren't deadly:
I'll bet you and Borans both an arm-and-leg; my bone saw's ready!
I'm the next big step for mankind, and with one small leap, I'll prove it,
So computer, start the countdown up, and Europe, cue the music!
Ooooooooh, it's the final countdown…
This dude's teleporting…
The final countdown…
Uh-oh, there's a fly there!
It's the final countdown, final countdown, ooooooh-ooooooooh… now give me my check!
Computer: TELEPORT SEQUENCE SUCCESSFUL; FLY AND BRUNDLE FUSED TOGETHER.
Seth Brundle: Wait, a fly? Oh my: that may be cause for worry, but whatever;
It most likely matters not. I'm in one piece and feeling fine, too;
The far worse concern in bug-terms here's that spider right behind you!
Ouch! TheDingDangDoong spoke truthfully; that really does hurt brutally,
And yet, on top of all the pain, I feel sensations new to me:
Sixth sense, strength and agility straight out of some film trilogy!
Uncle Ben: Remember, though: with great power comes great responsibility!
Peter: Oh, drop the preachiness, and quit pretending you're my father!
I'd be rich if all old Benny's lectures netted me a dollar.
As is, I'll use my new spidey-skills to further my finances;
Thus, I'm off to be a star, so: so long Seth, and goodbye glasses!
That rad-spider's bite's made Parker think he's Superman, apparently;
My guess is: in a couple weeks, he'll be in chemotherapy.
As for myself, methinks I'll go hit up some drinking joint;
First, though, I'll grab my wallet, which, of course, I trust won't be pur-
Brundle: Aaah, someone stop that man… no! Peter, why didn't you provide support?
You could have caught that thief just like the fly I earlier absorbed!
Well, why on Earth should I have helped you after all the crap you've said?
I fail to see how that's my problem!
Uncle Ben: Oh noes; I am dead.
Peter: NOOOOO; The only father that I've ever known's been killed!
I could have saved him; now, I have to spend my whole life with that guilt.
I pledge to heed his wisdom moving forward from this fateful night;
Need no Kenobi tricks to know to go home and rethink my life…
Ha! You're too weak to even man up and go catch the guy who did this;
Now, next time you bump into him, they'll want you to show forgiveness.
Anyways, go mope for months on end at where your uncle's grave is;
I've got sugar to consume, and one hot date with Geena Davis!
(SOME TIME LATER…)
Yo, I'm back with patriotic tights and my own hero-name;
The Spider-Man is what they call me, and web-slinging is my game!
It's not exactly public knowledge, but I figured you should know:
I've rose from tragedy, while… sheesh, you really have let yourself go!
Oh, I'd say you're the one who's lost it, to consider that suit fetching!
This ain't lucha libre, Rikochet; go back to costume-sketching!
Think you're some red-white-blue widow? Boy, you're longlegs-level timid,
And I'll shatter you like windowpanes at an abortion clinic!
Wait a minute, you poor devil; I get why you're so disheveled:
You fused with that fly on some molecular-genetic level!
Now, that raises quite some questions here regarding mass-criteria,
If you didn't also get mixed-up with billions of bacteria!
I make up in raw power what I may have lost in charm;
Can straight-up split a sucker open in a wrestling match of arms!
Unless you'll grow an extra four of those, comparing us is groundless.
Bring your frenemy Flint in; then, maybe we'll talk change-profoundness.
Your sheer arrogance is plain as my newspaper boss's spins;
"Help me! Help me!", you'll soon be squealing as this spider closes in!
I'm straight-Spectacular; Sensational! Your shambling isn't scaring me;
You're less a threat than Stockman, your own Ninja Turtles parody!
Could you repeat that last part? I was tidying my museum:
A collection of vestigial souvenirs; you wanna see 'em?
I'm becoming something never seen before: a Brundlefly,
Who'll make you swallow his acidic disses; then, perhaps you'll die…
Yeah, it's quite clear your tale won't end with dreams of happy butterflies;
You'd have been better-off if that machine had left you vaporized!
You're too much fly for any guy; even The Offspring would agree!
My powers are a gift; you're cursed to die as a monstrosity!
Well, if I'm but an insect woken from its dream of being a man,
Perhaps you'll help me to be truly human. See, I have a plan:
Though there may be no cure for my most Kafkaesque of transformations,
Your humanity-retaining genes shall be its mitigation;
Combination, Parker! Dive with me into the plasma-stream:
We'll be the insect Firestorm; a single-body super-team!
Peter: I'll never join you, freak!
Brundle: A pity; we'll do things the hard way, then.
Computer, instigate the sequence; Joey, sing that tune again!
Ooooooooh, it's another countdown…
The Brundlefly's bonkers…
Now Pete's in the pod-thing…
It's another countdown, 'nother countdown, ooooooh-ooooooooh… man, this is so fucked up!
(*Peter punches a hole through the telepod's glass door surface, shoots a webbing through it and onto a connective cable on the ground outside, and then reels it in violently, severing the cord. Noticing this act of sabotage as Peter proceeds to unlock and exit his now nonfunctional pod, Brundle attempts to take leave of the still-working pod holding him, but is a second too late and becomes fused with broken pieces of the apparatus itself. Emerging from a third telepod, the resultant hunk of twisted flesh mixed with chunks of metal then collapses onto the floor with a hideous, gurgling scream.*)
Brundle: Well… at least I still- (*Explodes for no apparent reason*)
(*Fade to black…*)
(SEVERAL YEARS LATER…)
MOLEMAN'S EPIC RAP BATTLES!
There ain't nobody like me but me, bar all business with the Jackal.
Ripping brutes new ones out on the streets, like:
Aleksei Sytsevich: I'm in the battle! *Ooomph!*
Spider-Man: I'll tackle any lab-freak and their every next of kin,
So do yourself a favor, stranger, and just turn yourself right in.
Hello. My name is Martin Brundle. Insert Princess Bride quote here.
I'm not like other heirs to mantles of your foes of yesteryear:
Meet the most interesting insomniac this side of DC Pierson;
My genetic symbiosis makes for something truly fearsome!
Not the wretched wreck my dad was; I'm a monster on a mission,
With a tongue so sharp, call me the first true insect politician!
I drop verses rapidly as my progress through childhood;
Spit Venom, driving you more mad than any emo costume could!
No swatter's big enough to squash me; hell, I'll take on whole attack teams!
Here's a sadist choice: swap genes with me, or relive your wack dance scene?
Pumpkin-bombs can't match the terror I'll rain on your parade today,
With force enough to flush your itsy-bitsy bitch-ass straight-away!
So, seems "like dad, like son" is just the way the Brundle story goes;
To think: if only Seth had stuck to teleporting pantyhose.
I needn't Aunt May's prayers ensuring my deliverance from this evil:
I'm the cityscape's Tarzan; you're just a Disney-esque cheap sequel!
Yeah, you may come straight from your mom's worst nightmares, but honestly,
Compared to Carnage, Carl King and Kraven's craze, you're hardly scary.
You, Superior to me?! Doc Ock was less a wannabe,
So don't seek vengeance for your evil dad; look how that went for Harry.
I made sure my father's tragedy would not run in our family;
Lived happily, bar comics, though things happened no less graphically!
Man, I got laid at five; that Melrose Place chick did the honors.
You've got less on me than what Sam Raimi did with "Lizard" Connors!
I concoct lyrics from scratch like pod props on my movie's set,
And constitute a force more Sinister than any crook sextet;
Your weak webs can't halt the pain-train I drive! This ain't no grand prix race,
Because this Martin Brundle has the speedy skills to win first place:
Watch me rampage relentlessly through a complex casually as a walk in the park,
Melting off my foes' faces as if they had gazed into the Covenant's Ark!
I'll put this born loser right out of his misery like that poor Golden Retriever;
Revel in wrecking you worse than Al-Qaeda tainted your twin towers teaser!
If a second lady-love's not something you're prepared to lose,
Then for the love of Lee, stop giving MJ cancer with your splooge!
I used to think you couldn't Turn Off folks worse than with your Broadway play,
But firing Garfield was a more disgraceful deal than One More Day.
MOLEMAN'S EPIC RAP BATTLES!