Goliath from Gargoyles. You have no idea how badly I want Disney to make Gargoyles an animated feature. I’m on a personal mission to remind people how awesome this show was. You’d be surprised how many people I’ve talked to that have never heard of it. Lets start a petition or something.
Ohhhh man! Ryan’s on a roll!
Gargoyles was my Shakespearean gateway drug as a kid.
Vic looks at the cargo, and then back to Raph, who has already started bristling, his shoulders rising and his neck sinking slowly into his shell. He’s going to charge, Leo realises, and takes a step forward, resting a calming, bracing hand on Raph’s arm. “I’ll give ya half,” Vic says, and Raph bares his teeth.
"How about you give us both halves and I’ll leave your spleen intact—”
"—what Raph is trying to say," Leo interjects hurriedly, "is that we signed the contract to get the cargo here in one piece, and—"
"—and under the Mutant Inclusion Act, sir, you’re breaking the law." Donnie holds up his palmtop, showing reams of legal text, and Leo gives him the most withering look he can manage.
"Way I see it," Vic says again, lazily, and his smile widens to something triumphant and cruel, "you just brought me a whole lot of below-the-line stuff. Not exactly keeping to the law yourselves now, are you? You get half, froggies, and I don’t call the Alliance to report a band of smugglers.”
Technically, this is all Raph’s fault to begin with, trusting Casey and his contacts (“they’re good people, honest!”), but Leo has a family to feed. So his hand loosens on Raph’s arm just enough for Raph to tear away, snarling as he hurls himself at Vic with his fist ready to strike. “You son of a—!”
Exactly five seconds later, they agree to 75%, and no more.
THERE GOES MISTER HUMBUG
THERE GOES MISTER GRIM
IF THEY GAVE A PRIZE FOR BEING MEAN
THE WINNER WOULD BE HIM!
Thus continues my ritual of reblogging all Muppet Christmas Carol that appears on my dash.
I think there’s some law that when Muppet Xmas music graces my dashboard I NEED to reblog it!
"I can’t believe we are doing this,” Leo mutters, at the same time as Raph’s “I can’t believe he talked us into this.”
"Shhh!" April hisses, her own cheeks pink from the cold.
Or shame. Either works.
"Are we going to go to jail?" Donnie wonders, from where he’s peering over the side of the carriage at the bright festive lights of the city. His own head is covered with a chunky purple beanie, and a matching scarf is wrapped around his mouth, muffling his words. The other three are the same, each coded to match the bandanas they aren’t wearing right now.
"Nah," Raph says, from the other side of the carriage. "April might."
"No I’m not!"
At the front, mittened hands clinging to the reins, Mikey and his new best friend lead them on a merry trot throughout the city, right up until the point NYPD catch up with them and they scatter to the rooftops, leaving Horsezilla (“Bro-nie the pony" had been quickly rejected) looking highly confused in the middle of Chinatown.