Dave blinked, wondering why he was suddenly awake. He'd been dreaming that Helmut had captured George and set Dr. Light's lab on fire... but why did he feel so terrified about it?
Of course. It was George's nightmare. Wasn't he ever going to get over the whole hanging-from-the-ceiling thing?

"Damn it!" Helmut checked the clock beside his bed; it was still only 2 a.m. "Why'd we have to go and wake up? I was having the best dream..." He angrily rolled over and tried to get back to sleep. At least he was back in his own bed tonight... the emptiness of the White Space hadn't been that comfortable to sleep on.
***
George, Dave, Helmut and Freakadave were waiting backstage, checking their instruments and mics. This would be their first gig in front of a real audience, and they didn't want to blow it...
"And tell me again WHY we need a kazoo?" Dave said to Freakadave, rolling his eyes.
Freakadave played a few notes, getting his kazoo in tune. "Because the king of the ducks ordered me to!"
"Riiiight. Anyway, looks like it's time for us to start..." Dave headed to the front of the stage; George picked up his purple guitar and followed suit.
They arrived on the stage; George noticed worriedly that there were a lot of people in the audience, and he also saw a formless dark blur moving through the seats near the stage. Oh man, don't tell me Mom's going to be watching our show...
As Helmut took his place behind the drum set, the emcee shouted into the microphone, "And now, ladies and gentlemen, THE AUTHORS!!"

Bob woke up groggily in a dark room. "Huh?" he said, rubbing the bump on top of his head. "Where am I?"
General Lada came forward from the shadows, a grim look on his face. "Welcome, comrade, to the brainwashing chamber..."
-------------
Dave began singing in a grand voice. "Mona Lisa... she was dancing, in the tower of Pisa! Yeah!" Helmut beat upon the drums furiously. Freakadave played the kazoo expertly... but George had only taken basic guitar lessons.
He stood there on stage, doing absolutely nothing, his mom watching, everyone watching... and he only knew two chords. He panicked. Dave looked at George expectantly. Freakadave continued to play the kazoo, not noticing. All eyes on him... Suddenly, George had an epiphany. People liked rap/rock combos, right? "Err... yo yo yo! I'm Blitz Masta G, and I'm gonna kix it up a notch!" said George, in the best rapper voice he could muster. He proceeded to yell out a string of incomprehensible words and expletives, hoping that the crowd would buy it.
They did. Several members of the crowd held up lighters. Helmut looked almost dissapointed, as if he had wanted George to screw up. Freakadave went on playing his kazoo, in spite of the fact that the song was over. And his mom wasn't giving him "The Look". George gave a sigh of relief.

Brainwashing chamber? Bob didn't like the sound of that... "Wash this!" he shouted menacingly. He realized that it sounded stupid, but then, he'd just been hit on the head rather hard.
Bob activated his Napalm powers... or tried to. He'd run out of power while torching any available targets. Cursing under his breath, he tried to use his blaster... but he couldn't move his arms. He was tied up.
"I hate dimensional travel," Bob moaned.

The Authors were backstage again, taking a breather during intermission. George was frantically plucking random notes on his guitar, trying to learn how to play it. He looked over the lyrics and chord sheet for their hit song:

Well, I've got my Author powers
And I've got my purple suit
And I've got some far-fetched theories
That no one can refute
I'm fond of convolution
I love a complex plot
But no matter how much you look around
There's one thing I haven't got

I pfoof myself 'cross time and space
To achieve my goals
And one thing I can say for sure:
There are no plot holes.

The next verse was evidently for Helmut to sing:

I'm evil 'cause I love it
You can see me in the Quips
I know what's coming up, but
Not a word will pass my lips
I like to watch BnG News
While drinking Wily Beer
Don't go looking for plot holes
'Cause there aren't any here.

And if you say you've found one
Then I'll torment your soul
In the Rehabilitator
'Cause there are no plot holes.

George looked up from the sheet when he heard a voice from across the room. "Hey George!"
"Huh?" George looked across the room to see where the cheerful voice was coming from. To his shock, it was...
The young man looked exactly like Bob. Well, almost. The purple scarf around his neck didn't seem like something Bob would wear. That, and Bob wasn't usually that cheerful. "Who the hell are you?" inquired George, scratching the top of his head.
The Bob-lookalike looked sincerely sorry. "Oh, I beg your pardon!" cried the lookalike, fiddling with his scarf nervously. "Such bad form: I forgot to introduce myself! I'm Alternate Bob. I think I've met your brother once. You know, that purple looks really great on you."
George, who had never met Alternate Bob, was convinced that this was some big joke by Bob. "Stop patronizing me, Bob," he said, getting angry. "All you did was change your scarf and make your voice sound weird. I'm not THAT gullable!" He turned back to see how Dave, Helmut, and Freakadave were doing, leaving a very confused Alternate Bob.
This dream was obviously taking a turn for the weirder. Alternate versions had replaced the regular Authors. Alternate Freakadave was dryly lecturing about the impossibility of temporal travel. Alternate Dave was running around, causing chaos and disorder wherever he went. Alternate Helmut was talking about helping the elderly and wielding the sword of truth and justice. Finally, George could take no more. "GAAH!" he yelled, and his eyes instantly flew open.