After deciding to join the Freelance Police to Bosco's Inconvenience, a corner store close to Sam and Max's office building, Rarity eventually noticed someone wearing the same outfit as the blonde person she was questioning earlier. He had black hair and was wearing glasses.

"Say there, unfashionably dressed street urchin...." Sam said.

"OH! You made me mess up!" the person groaned. "Now I have to start all over!"

"Yowzers! You are one ugly ki... HEY! I know you!" Max gasped.

"You do?" Rarity asked.

"Oh, that's right! He's one of the lovable scamps from that old TV show about the singing soda jerks," Sam said.

"It's called the SODA POPPERS!" the person corrected. "And the 70's are not that old."

"Specs! It's you!" Max exclaimed. "Wow, an actual celebrity vandalizing our neighborhood. This is great!"

Rarity facepalmed upon hearing Max say that. Of all the things he could say, it just had to be that.

"And I thought Pinkie was random," she mumbled.

Sam decided to strike up a conversation with Specs in order to figure out why he was painting graffiti out on the streets.

"Boy, you sure were a famous oddly underdeveloped teen celebrity at one time," he said.

"I'm STILL famous!" Specs retorted.

"Are you?" Max asked.

"Um, like a million-point-one times more famous than you!"

"Well, Max and I are really more known in the 18-to-34-year-old repeat-criminal demographic!" Sam said.

"And I happen to be one of the best fashion designers in all of Canterlot City," Rarity beamed.

"Canterlot City... All of the girls were going for me just wanting autographs when I was there," Specs sighed. "Especially a young prodigy by the name of Twilight something,"

"Sparkle, darling, and she just so happens to be my friend."

Specs didn't say anything after she said that.

"Well, that was awkward," Max said.

"Indeed," Sam added. "So, Specs, what are you up to these days? Any new projects?"

"Yes! I have new light in my life and his name is Brady Culture," Specs said enthusiastically. "He's the genius behind the Eye-Bo Ocular Fitness Program. You really should try one of his videos."

"Eye-Bo? That sounds awfully like that Tae Bo program that my friend, Rainbow Dash likes," Rarity said.

"They sound similar, but trust me. Eye-Bo is completely different."

"Eye-Bo sounds like an electronic archery toy," Sam said.

"Eye-Bo IS the truly ocular fitness program. Try the video today!"

"Where can I find a copy of the video?"

"They carry them over at Bosco's. You should get it!"

"Sounds fascinating. But enough about that."

"You can never get enough of Brady Culture's Eye-Bo."

"Yes, that's very lovely, darling. But I do believe we should be going," Rarity said nervously.

"What? Why?" Max asked.

"He's creeping me out," Rarity whispered.

"Well, it was nice talking to you, Specs," Sam said as they walked away from him.

Sam then noticed an extra can of spray paint on one of the newspaper boxes. It turned out that it still had some paint left in it. He picked it up and placed it into his cardboard box. As he was doing so, Rarity noticed something strange in the gumball machine.

"Uh, Sam, darling, what's with this gumball machine?" she asked.

"Looks like Bosco's got Boston baked beans in there this month."

"How do they stay fresh?" Max asked.

"They don't."

Rarity covered her mouth as she tried to resist vomiting.

"Oh, God! I think I'm gonna be sick!" she winced as she held her stomach.

"Come on, let's forget about that and go inside."

"Here, here."

Sam opened the door to Bosco's Inconvenience and walked inside with Max and Rarity following behind.

The three of them walked in and Rarity was amazed at how unique the store was.

"Have no fear, simple citizens, the Freelance Police are here to keep the peace," Sam said.

"Violently if possible," Max added.

The store's owner, Roscoe Bosco, was an African American man with receding black hair, resulting in him mostly being bald, and brown eyes. He wore a yellow shirt, which was the store uniform that had his nametag on it, which read, Bosco.

"I-I-It's just you two?!" he exclaimed nervously.

"Ex-CUSE ME!" Rarity bellowed. "It is NOT just them! I, Rarity, am with them, as well."

"Whatever. Wh-Wh-Wh-Where's the SWAT team? Where's the National Guard? Where's NASA?!"

"Hold on, Bosco. What's the problem?" Sam asked calmly.

"What's the problem? It's a terrorist! A munchkin terrorist! He'll be the death of us all! And that's not all! I've got this poofy pink-haired girl eating all of my purple stuff!"

"Is that it?" Max asked.

"For her, yes."

"Well, where is she?" Sam asked.

"She's right next to that Munchkin terrorist over there!"

Bosco pointed towards the coffee, slushie and condiment dispensers. Standing close to the dispensers was a short man with curly red hair, freckles and brown eyes. He wore the exact same uniform as Specs.

"Hey, it's another one of the Soda Poppers!" Max exclaimed.

"Isn't he the one with the... bladder control issue?" Sam asked.

"Yeah! Whizzer!"

"He's a former child star?" Bosco asked. "Oh, just lock him up and throw away the jail."

Rarity glanced over towards Whizzer and immediately recognized who it was that was guzzling the purple stuff. It was none other than her friend, Pinkie Pie.

"Please, stop," Whizzer begged.

Rarity marched over to Pinkie and immediately dragged her away from the purple stuff.

"Pinkie Pie, please! I think you've had quite enough of that stuff!" she barked.

Pinkie licked her lips to get the remaining purple stuff off.

"Hi, Rarity!" she exclaimed.

"And we wonder why you need therapy," Rarity groaned.

"Thanks for stopping her," Bosco said over his microphone.

"That's what friends do, dear."

"Aside from that little incident, what is Whizzer doing?" Sam asked.

"He's delivering videos I didn't even order!" Bosco said. "Brady Culture's Eye-Bo? What is that? Oh, it's something bad, I can tell you that."

"Videos..."

"And look at that display! It's subversive and hideous! I don't know any White guy with a 'fro like that."

The display in question was Brady Culture's face with his blonde afro hair.

"Any idea why a freakish relic of the 70's would unload videos in your store?"

"Think about it. No individual acting alone would ever deliver videos of his own volition. It makes no sense. I smell... a conspiracy."

"I think you're just catching the hot weenies in an updraft," Max chuckled.

Bosco sniffed the air.

"No. It's definitely a conspiracy."

"What sort of malevolent forces would conspire to burden you with unwanted video cassettes?" Sam asked.

"Oh, they've all got it in for me... The government, the media, the mafia, aliens, sentient computers, my mother, Niels Bohr, Switzerland, Hitler, head lice, lint, pastrami, hairspray, Tellt..."

"Stop right there!" Max ordered. "Hairspray had no part in this!"

"Oh, sure. That's what you'd LIKE to believe."

As the conversation went on, Rarity decided to talk with Whizzer herself.

"Mr. Whizzer, is it? My name is Rarity. I'm from Canterlot High and I'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind," she said.

"Go ahead, but please, just call me Whizzer," he said.

"What exactly are you doing here?"

"Delivering videos. Take one they're free."

"You do realize that Mr. Bosco didn't order any of these, right?"

"The word must be spread. Eye-Bo is the path to enlightenment and ocular fitness."

"Indeed. Exactly who is this Brady Culture person? I've only heard the name from my parents."

"Brady Culture is a genius, and his Eye-Bo program is a boon to all mankind."

"I see..."

"And did you know he was the star of Culture's Clubhouse in 1970?"

"Yes, I did. My parents gave me the only video cassette that was mass-produced to the public."

"Neat. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got more videos to deliver."

And with that, Whizzer ran outside with the empty box like a streak of lightning. He then returned a few seconds later and dumped more video cassettes in the area where he was dumping them, then took a sip of soda.

"Hmm... something doesn't add up. He appears to be out of it, somehow. What is with these Eye-Bo videos, anyway? Sam? Max?"

"You got me," Sam said as he walked over to her. "We just finished talking with Bosco. We're lucky Whizzer isn't stealing anything, otherwise his automated defense system would've kicked in."

"You mean B-TADS?" Pinkie asked. "Yeah, I tried walking out with that slice of cheese earlier just to see what would happen, and I got conked on the head with a boxing glove."

"Yeouch!"

"Tell me about it."

Rarity walked over to the display rack and took one of the videos. She then read the description on the back of the box.

"Brady Culture's Eye-Bo, for ocular fitness. The revolutionary eye-sometric exercise. See through walls and clothing, roll your eyes at lightning speed, lose 5 pounds of eyeball fat."

"I hope that walls and clothing bit means it's more like seeing someone's bones and not their... you know..."

"I hope so too, Pinkie."

"Say, you three, why don't we see what this video is about back at our office?" Sam suggested.

"I'll bring the caramel-coated sugar logs," Max said.

The four of them walked out the store and went into Sam and Max's office. Once Sam flipped on the light switch, Rarity was amazed at how home-like the office seemed. There was even an old 1980s television set on top of a 1980s VCR player on Sam's desk.

"Sam, darling, does this TV still work?" Rarity asked.

"Sure does," Sam replied. "We just needed a make-do antenna in the form of that coat hanger that's on top of it."

Rarity turned the TV on and a commercial started playing.

"Life troubling your digestion? Reality blocking your passages? Expel your troubles with Emetics, the handbook for multi-colored happiness, and separate your bliss!"

"Emetics? That's weird," Pinkie said.

"Yes, I must say, this handbook sounds a bit too good to be true," Rarity agreed.

Just then, the TV cut to the Child Star Expose Network on channel 173. The channel started spitting out facts about the Soda Poppers and their behavior behind the scenes of shooting the hit television show. Some of these included Specs constantly demanding retakes to get his catchphrase right on camera, Whizzer having an accident with the shooting script, and the third one, the blonde kid that Rarity interviewed earlier, Peepers, having his missing dialogue dubbed over with chalkboard scratches.

Suddenly, a report on the forgotten child star, Brady Culture, came on.

"Few if any, remember the show that The Soda Poppers replaced. Culture's Clubhouse hailed as television for the sophisticated six-to-eight-year-old, fell victim to the Soda Popper juggernaut, and was quickly scrapped. Its young star, Brady Culture, struggled to find work and acceptance in the wake of the show's cancellation. Unable to find another role, Brady dabbled in every religion, creed, and belief system he could find. Buddhism, Judaism, Pointillism, Scientology, Horse-Matology, Nerfmatology, Prismatology, and even Stinkmatology. But what ultimately became of Brady Culture? No one knows."

"Brady Culture's being lifted from obscurity by his former rivals?" Sam questioned.

"I think this qualifies as a baffling mystery, Sam," Max said.

"You may be right."

"Okay, seriously. Just put the tape in before I even try to think about what this Horse-Matology even is," Rarity cringed.

Sam put the Eye-Bo tape into the VCR and hit the play button.

"Sam, stop! We don't have any popcorn!" Max panicked.

"Sweet alligator dentures soaking in formaldehyde, that was close! Quick, before it starts, let's go see if we can get some," Sam said as he and Max walked out of the office.

As they did, a man with a blonde afro and teal eyes wearing a white open shirt and gold medallion appeared on the television. It was Brady Culture.

"Hello, I'm Brady Culture," he said on the screen. "You may remember me from Culture's Clubhouse, the massive world-wide television hit that ran for six episodes in 1970."

As the tape played, Jimmy Two-Teeth walked out of his rat hole out of curiosity. Rarity was shocked to see that he had somehow made his way back inside.

"What the?! How did you get in here?!" she exclaimed.

"Details, sweetheart," he said. "Now be quiet. I wanna watch dis."

"What are about to see will change your life forever," Brady said on the TV. "So watch closely."

Suddenly, a beam of green light enveloped the room for a brief moment. The bright light made Pinkie dizzy for a moment before she shook her head and came back to her senses.

"Now, listen up you tasteless philistines! You love me, you adore me, you want to name all your children after me."

"I love you, I adore you, I want to name all my children after you," Jimmy repeated in a robotic-like voice as green swirls formed in his eyes.

Sam and Max reentered the room without any popcorn, as they couldn't find any nearby.

"Sam, look!" Max said.

"Ocular fitness, my eye!" Sam exclaimed. "That videotape hypnotized Jimmy Two-Teeth!"

"I think I like him better this way."

"Hey, wait a minute. You two were in the room with him. Why aren't you hypnotized?"

"I suspect it has to be our geodes, Sam," Rarity guessed. "I believe our magic is protecting us from being susceptible to hypnotism."

"Well, that explains that. I think."

"Regardless, I believe the same thing must've happened to the Soda Poppers. When I was talking with Whizzer earlier, his voice didn't sound quite right. He sounded like he was forced to say the things he told me. And if that's the case, then we've got to find Mr. Culture and stop him from hypnotizing everyone into becoming his mindless minions!"

"Can I have his hair when we're done?" Max asked.

"Only if you keep it on a leash," Sam said.

Looks like this Brady Culture is bad news. How bad exactly? Well, Sam, Max, Rarity, and Pinkie were about to find out soon enough.

Author's Note

Whew! Sorry about the wait. I had a huge writer's block problem with this chapter, as well as a lot of personal things going on. But I'm back now! Thank you all so much for your patience.