Amoeba Rangers!

Zordon looked into the microscope of the Universe, and what he saw disturbed him.
“ALPHA FIIIIIIVE!” He bellowed from inside the crystal tube, momentarily forgetting that shouting in any enclosed space is always a bad idea. The tiny jittering robot scooched forward very fast, chittering random sayings as he did so.
“Yes, Zordon!?” He asked angrily, wondering what the space wizard was up to.
“Look at this.” The space wizard shouted, pointing wildly at the microscope of the Universe.
“I… I can’t. I don’t have eyes. Why do you think I’m always shouting, ‘EYE! EYE! EYE! EYE!’ Just tell me.”
“No!”
“Why not?”
“BECAUSE OF PLOT CONVENIENCE!”
“Very well.”
What Alpha Five saw traumatized him. “The petri dish of Angel Groves Bacomayo! Rita’s attacking it with antiseptic! Will her evil know no bounds!?”

Zordon circled around his crystal tube, like a stoned goldfish, until he had a bright idea.
“We can’t send five teens with attitude to the Bacomayo, can we?” The space wizard asked attentively.
“No. They’d be too big. The petri dish is pretty small. So, no.” Alpha Five replied, as he was starting to get sick of Zordon’s shit after five hundred thousand years.
“Good!” He replied heartily, “BECAUSE-”
The robot held up a hand, “Lemme guess, we need five single celled organisms with attitude? Do we even have ranger suits THAT small? I mean, what is their Megazord going to be? A legoman with a laser pointer!?”
“YES!”
“Zordon?”
“Yes?”
“Why… ARE you?”

Zordon ignored this, instead focusing all of his harry potter like space magic into creating a suit of microscopic uniforms for five to eight amoebas, depending on what ever else crazy ideas he had.
“With these five to eight amoebas, they shall be henceforth known as the-”
“Samuel L. Jackson Rangers!”
“Why?”
“Because they are sick of these mothergoldarring monsters attacking this mothergoldarring petri dish, and they want to know WHAT’S IN YOUR WALLET!”
“I’ll allow this.”
“Zordon?”
“Yes?”
“You’re fired. You’re being replaced with a stoned goldfish.”

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