This week, Ben and Zane were forced to go off their schedule when they were hijacked into the past by time lightning. Merlin told they they'd need to find the twelve keys of truth to get back to their own time, and would have the help of the knights of the round table. The Cartonists were skeptical, but luckily the knights accepted the ridiculousness of the premise immediately and without question.

It was early evening, and the cigar smoke slowly dispersed through my office when they walked in. Those two primates, they walked into my office, shoulders squared, a purpose in their eyes. "Ben and Zane", they said, "and we're here to ask you some questions." This duck's no snitch, but sometimes the only way to untangle a web of lies is to let the authorities ask some questions. I gulped back a slug of Golden Goose, shivering as it burned down my throat. Golden Goose always ruffles a few feathers, but there are some stories that can only be told with a partner, and she's the most reliable friend I've ever had. I put my feet up on the desk and leaned back in my chair. "Okay, boys," I said. "Where should I start?"

Long ago, in a distant land, a foolish Samurai warrior was banished to the future, wherein he encountered Ben and Zane and told them his story. During a journey through various environments with accompanying travel music, the samurai told them of the ancient evil Aku. He was somewhat perterbed when Ben and Zane both agreed that Aku sounded pretty great.

Ben and Zane knew that taking care of a hamster would be a big responsibility, but they couldn't have foreseen just how suicidal the hamster would be. Although they initially wrote Hamtaro off as an inept (though well-meaning) show, they soon realized that the goofy actions belied a savage intelligence, hellbent on working with the hamster underground to overthrow the shackles of humankind. Their revolution failed, but I bet the next revolution will be even better.

When Ben and Zane ran away from a top secret government organization threatening to use their podcast for a podcast-powered ray gun, they never thought they'd end up in the big city. Thankfully, the natives are friendly, if difficult to understand. Amidst the baa-ing and the really forced puns, Ben and Zane catalog the story of a lone sheep who'd gotten badly fleeced.

In their mission to uncover the truth behind cartoons, Ben and Zane find themselves in an opulent mansion, home to one Bruce "Solomon Grundy" Wayne, an elderly gentleman with a suspiciously large collection of bat-themed equipment in his basement. What follows is a incisive and considered interview with Wayne in which we discuss the notions of duty, sacrifice, and the weakness of attachment. Oh, and there's this kid named Terry there too, I guess.

Timmy was a pretty sad kid. Eventually the turmoil of his childhood and the dismal ennui of the 21st century eroded his sanity, and he began to hallucinate vividly about kids with wings who could grant wishes. Ben and Zane were asked to commit his ravings to audio log during Timmy's decent into madness, but they didn't expect he'd spend so much time talking about his teeth.

Agent B and Agent Z have been taken off the front lines of fighting alien crime in order to investigate some of Agent J and K's case files. Normally these documents would be classified to the public, but just this once, you're welcome to listen in on some top secret MIB information - if Agents B and Z can stop talking about the intro.

This week in the 'cast, Ben and Zane broach the topic of Time Squad by heaping praise onto everyman hero, officer Buck Tuddrussel. Buck Tuddrussel didn't sign up for no snooty robot or some know-it-all brat getting in the way of his law enforcement methods. He just wanted to do what he was born to do - punch Mozart in the face for getting uppity with history. And who among us wouldn't be right there beside him, holding the great composer's legs?

Join Ben and Zane in the maiden voyage of The Cartoncast! This week, we investigate the torment that is the life of one sad Hawaiian. In doing so, we are forced to ask ourselves some difficult philosophical questions, such as 'How gnarly can one be before he inevitably becomes bogus', and 'Can good truly exist in the presence of so much sick beef'?