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The sequel to "After the Nuclear Option" |
| [Introduction] The country of Khasachasistan has a long and mostly unkown history. Beset by disaster, invasions, and plagues, it is a country where historians live short and brutal lives, are often hampered by their own illiteracy, and yet, somehow, tales still manage to be told... After the Nuclear Option destroyed their town, the residents of Lufchatel went their separate ways, only to be rejoined in a massive effort (well, massive for Khasachasistan) to rebuild their village. From the ashes of the old was reborn the new... New Lufchatel! (trumpet fanfare) Some of the citizens of this phoenix-like ville... Harry ............ the mayor of New Lufchatel Anita ............ Harry's wife Chobee .......... an ogre Cherie .......... his girlfriend Marcus ......... a vampire who hunts zombies for the bounty reward REAPER ........ a big bad zombie Toby .............. a mild-mannered zombie Aristocrates ... a zombie squirrel Georgette ....... pickup-driving redneck mama Gutan ............ an orange crab Grandma Hooter ... matriarch of the Hooter Clan Chub-Chub .... the two-headed rat that runs the Tilt-A-Whirl ride at the New Lufchatel Amusement Park ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
| The Four Writers sat around a table at one of the snack bars in the New Lufchatel Amusement Park. BBWolf looked hard across the lot at the two-headed rat who operated the TILT-A-WHIRL ride... CHUB-CHUB: "Step right up! Lose your lunch! Last a minute without vomiting and you get a second ride for free!" BBWolf frowned. "That's the sonafabitch who locked me in my own laundry room. If you guys hadn't come along when you did, I might have gotten so bored that I washed a load of dirty underwear." "That was certainly a big basket full of dirty underwear," Ravenwand said. "It was every pair I own. I'm going commando now." "Eww," Steve said, and gave BBWolf plenty of room. PurpleHaze rubbed his hands together briskly and prepared to pontificate. "You're not going to pontificate, are you?" Ravenwand asked. "No! Don't read things into my actions. Wait for the action to happen. Then read about it." "Uh... right," Ravey said. Purp raised his hand for silence. "Listen up, people. As you all know, we easily solved the previous plot problem and saved New Lufchatel from whatever doom was facing it--" "It was cloning and virtual zombification," Rave interrupted. "Yes, that was the doom." Purp glared at Rave (but she could see the twinkle in his eyes that said I'm only pretending to be angry with you so you will let me spank you later) and continued: "But the point is, at least for a while there we had a reason for existing, a goal in life so to speak. But what do we have now? We are cast adrift on a sea of prose, admittedly well-crafted, often witty prose, but nevertheless, mere prose, a literary shadow of that rich and vibrant thing we call Reality!" Ravenwand tugged his sleeve. "I think you might be pontificating." But Steve had tears in his eyes. "Let him speak! I know beauty and elegance when it appears before me." PurpleHaze bowed deeply from the waist. "You, sir, are a gentleman." In a whispered aside to Rave: "Your butt will be red tonight." BBWolf hadn't heard a word. He was still staring at Chub-Chub and the Tilt-A-Whirl ride with eyes full of hate and a breath that smelled like revenge. |
| For some strange reason, Marcus was standing in line, with the Ornotchobee children, who were queueing to be first on the Tilt-A-Whirl. None of them seemed to be affected by the two-headed rat. Maybe it was because of their close affiliation with Uncle Gerg. Or maybe it was just that they were children and had no biases towards anyone. Chobee Jr. and Marcus were giggling at an inside joke. Seems they'd already tossed their cookies before entering the park. So there was no chance they'd vomit in the first minute. Behind them, stood Toby and Grandma Hooter. The former, being a zombie, was sure to lose a body part, but as long as Chub-Chub wasn't specific, he'd not lose his lunch. Grandma wasn't sure what exactly "lunch" meant, but she was willing to experience the new ride. If for no other reason than to prove to the other Hooters that such rides were completely harmless and quite fun. Not that she'd ever ridden one in her life, having spent it on Lahtrednaen, but she could put on a brave face, nonetheless. Purple stood back, after pontificating. He was not going to ride on it. He'd just had some goose liver and was sure to lose it, on the first Whirl, if not on the second Tilt-a. He was actually looking at the large menu board for the snack bar. Hmmm, those chocolate erasers look good, he thought. Maybe Raven would like some... As if hearing his ellipsis, Ravenwand sidled up to PurpleHaze. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" Then, as an afterthought, she added, "Not that I could sit down anywhere comfortably for the next several hours!" |
Meanwhile, BBWolf was looking at the lawsuits he'd gotten from Blizzard for "ripping off" StarCraft and Warcraft with his WarStarCraft game. He was also checking out their Lawyers. "Jeesh!" he groaned. "I'd need a scary-ass lawyer to terrify these guys. The only good thing about these guys is that they are human, I think." How scary do you need your lawyer to be?" Steve asked. "Impressive track record for success, looks scary enough that the Devil won't let him into Hell, and he'll work for a low price," BBWolf sighed. "So, what law do they claim you broke?" Steve asked, as he looked at the files. "At least twenty, mainly the copyrights for using their unit modules for my game, using the game's name, which is a lie, and for suposedly implanting a virus on their mainframe." "Did you really do that?" "I'll admit that I based the units off of theirs, but as for stealing the name, they didn't have a combo-game in the works, and I don't do viruses. I leave viruses and that junk to other hackers. After all, viruses have a way of turning on you." |
"You know..." Steve mused. "PurpleHaze might know the name of a good lawyer. I get the feeling that he's been in trouble with the law before." "Why do you say that?" BBWolf asked. "He doesn't have GOOD and EVIL tattooed on the knuckles of his hands." "That's true. Or even a swastika tattoo. Perhaps I am mistaken about him." Across the way, Chub-Chub the Two-headed Rat was listening to the writers' conversation through his Acme Super Ear Enhancer ("You'll hear the footsteps of ants!"). He nodded thoughtfully to himself. This might be a job for Uncle Slinky who did an awesome lawyer impersonation. And then he and Uncle could split the profits. Chub-Chub made a quick call on his cell. Across the way (the other way) BBWolf's phone rang. "Hello?" BBWolf said. "Uh huh... And your name is Slinky? How did you know I needed a good lawyer? You heard it on the grapevine? From Gladys? Who is Gladys? That's a joke? Oh... hahaha! Well, yes, I do need a good lawyer. Where is your office?" BBWolf hung up and turned to Steve. "Looks like I just set a subplot in motion." "I hope it has legs," Steve said. Ravenwand stretched her arms. "I am so damn tired of standing here saying nothing." PurpleHaze shrugged. "I'm sure you'll get a chance eventually. It's your own fault, ya know..." |
| “Herbert Sellner was a woodworker and maker of slides. In 1926, he invented the Tilt-A-Whirl by placing a chair on a table and making his son Art sit in the chair as he rocked the table back and forth,” Marcus calmly explained to Chobee Jr. “That’s fascinating, “Uncle” Marcus,” the boy replied. “But did he really appreciate Chaos Theory, or did he just get lucky?” “Well, I wasn’t there when he invented it, but... I am old enough to have been there during the first unveiling at the Minnesota State Fair in 1927. As for getting lucky, he must have, at least once; hence his son Art.” Marcus smiled toothily. It was their second time through the rotating, spinning cups and neither of them were dizzy, nor in dire need of producing a technicolor yawn. There was an even longer line to get on, now that they’d won their free ride. Most of the Hooters were there, as well as the four writers. Yes, even PurpleHaze was standing in line, his expression one of abject horror. But that might have been because of the position of Ravenwand’s hands; it was quite impossible to know for sure, what with the spinning of the cups. When the ride was over and Marcus and Chobee Jr. calmly strode away, Steve and BBWolf raced to their recently-abandoned ‘car’ and grabbed a seat. They figured something was ‘wrong’ with this particular car and that they’d have no trouble holding on to their lunch. Meanwhile, the vampire and Ornotchobee children were on their way to the Ferris Wheel. It was being run by a four-armed sailor named Boyd Schidt, who did a great impersonation of Ben Stein. They purchased their tickets and waited for the sailor to swear them in. “Marcus?” The vampire stepped forward. “Chobee?” His god-son stepped up next. “Bueller...Bueller...Bueller...Buelller?” After waiting a very long time, Boyd allowed just the two of them to grab one three-seater car, before setting the wheel in motion. |
| However, it seemed that Steve was having a hard time keeping his lunch down. His face was turning green. "Hey, don't you dare puke on me," BBWolf said. *Glum Girgle* "I'm telling you, don't puke on me!" *Um, Burgggggg!* "My God! You F$%$ing puked on me! And you had Chicken Wings and Pork Ribs without me, didn't you?!" *Burggggggggg!* "You Sonofabitch! You Did! I'm going to eat you alive!" *Burgggggggggg!* *Cough! Cough!* "Right in me mouth!" *Cough!* |
As Steve whirled round and round, coughing and puking, screaming and crying, he was reminded of his wedding day and the night that followed. Must not think about that, he warned himself. Now he was beginning to see colors swirling in the sky. What if the gates of hell opened up and swallowed him? At least he would be off the damn ride. Later, when the ride had stopped and Steve and BBWolf had been dragged off of it and laid down on the pavement to recover themselves, Steve saw a white dove fly across the blue sky. I don't know what that means, Steve thought, but it sure is pretty. BBWolf recovered quickly and grabbed Chub-Chub by his shirt collar. "You deliberately pushed up the speed! Were you trying to kill us?!" Chub-Chub's red eyes glittered. "That was the normal speed. Is it my fault your friend is a wimp and couldn't handle it?" BBWolf wanted to punch the rat in the nose, both noses, but a crowd had gathered and out of the corner of his eye BBWolf spotted a policeman walking over. He let go of the rat and growled, "I'll deal with you later!" Steve crawled on his hands and knees back to the little table at the snack bar. "That was a fun ride," he mumbled and passed out. Ravenwand sat him up in a chair. "You poor, feeble, vomit-covered, old man. Look, don't take this the wrong way, but I'm going to sit at another table." Of course, Steve was unconscious and heard nothing. When he woke up someone had placed a chocolate milkshake under his nose. He sucked greedily at it until the straw was making skrrrking noises on the bottom of the cup. "I feel a lot better now!" he said. But no one really cared. Steve caught the waiter's attention. "Where did my friends go?" "I think they might all be on the Ferris Wheel, or perhaps in the Funhouse, or even..." and here the waiter winked, "in the Tunnel of Love." |
| Aristocrates and Winston sat under the shade of a sprawling oak tree, talking of life and sharing the acorns that littered the ground. Winnie turned to the squirrel. “I know we just met, but I feel I’ve known you forever.” Aristocrates turned his half-rotted face to her cute fuzzy countenance and chattered, “I know what you mean.” He dropped his half-eaten acorn and pounced on Winnie, and they tumbled around in the romantic way squirrels and rats do. To an outsider, it would look as though they were fighting, but to them, it was anything but. It had been a couple days since the opening of Chub-Chub's carnival. Worn out, but happy to be alive, Grandma Hooter sat in her rocking chair, sipping tea and reading the latest Michael Chrichton novel. “I don’t know about you, Kadorm,” she said to the huge grey cat beside her, “I really like this book, but this seems as it was written by a ghost writer, the style is just not like him at all. Perhaps it was written posthumously from notes on his hard drive?” “Mrowwl.” Kadorm replied, and took off his reading glasses, closing the National Geographic he had been reading. Granny Hooter put down her book, and rose from her seating place. Her joints cracked and popped as she stretched and started to put on her sweater. “Kadorm, I sense animosity amongst the Hooters. I am being summoned.” “Hrrruffff?” he asked. “Not to worry, dear companion, things will work out… At least I HOPE they will. Gutan, Randy, hop in my pockets, we have work to do!” The crab and scorpion climbed up her support hose and nestled themselves in her pockets. Sweater on and sturdy shoes on her feet, she plodded out the door. Rehab loped up to her, covered in technicolor vomit and sporting a neon orange carnival band on his wrist. His left shin was bleeding from four parallel deep scratches. “They’ve escaped, Grandma… Hoooot. All of them… We… hoot need…” Rehab fainted in her arms. “Dammit, it’s worse than I thought,” she sighed. |
| Gutan and Randy, still perched in Grandma Hooter’s pockets, whispered their thoughts to the elderly Neanderthal. For the next hour, anyone nearby could only hear a series of grunts and hoots. “It’s settled then. You two go untie the professor and start making more scrabions. I’ll be over to supervise and keep the old man happy, in my own special way, in about an hour. Tell him that this time, he’d better not screw up,” she said. “Let’s just hope they haven’t made it to a large body of water.” She shook her head, wondering how the crossbreeds had escaped. Everard was stunned to see his least favorite characters eyeing him, menacingly. Randy’s erectile tail looked poised to strike, while Gutan’s pincers held one of his ears. He’d already mastered their language. Now, he wished he hadn’t. While the scorpion continued to threaten with his venomous stinger, Gutan explained their plans. The only thing that pleased the professor was at the end, upon hearing he’d have another conjugal visit from his hirsute lover. Aristocrates and Winnie lolled on their backs, satiated and saturated with each other’s slaver. If they were ever going to be able to overthrow Chub-Chub, they had to start with a litter. It was only natural. Well, as natural as you can get in the village of New Lufchatel. Uncle Slinky pored over a huge tome, looking for loopholes. He sipped on a pina colada and occasionally eyed the two-assed rat secretary that his nephew had given to him. Something nuclear had happened nearby recently, changing the rat population in subtle ways. Some were not so subtle, as was the case for Slinky. He’d become intelligent enough that he could not only attend Khasachasistan Community College, but that he could pass the bar exam. Now, it was only a matter of time before one of the attorney’s offices he’d applied to would accept him into their firm. After all, who wouldn’t want a rat as an attorney? |
| Unfortunately for Slinky, the only ones who wanted lawyers where he was, were cats. |
"I'll never work for a motherhumpin cat!" Slinky muttered as he threw the want ad section of the newspaper in the trash can. "Some things are beneath me. Not many, but that's one of them. I'll just go it alone if I have to." Meanwhile, the time had come for Grandma Hooter's conjugal visit to Professor Everhard. "You're not living up to your name," she said. "It's difficult with that crab and scorpion staring at us." "Gutan and Randy? Don't mind them. They are crustaceans. They don't get aroused by watching mammalian sex." "I wasn't worried about whether they got aroused or not! I just don't like being watched." "But they have compound eyes with facets. They don't even see the same way we do." "Goddammit, Grandma! I don't need any biology lessons! I'm telling you it ain't going to happen as long as that crab and scorpion are staring at me." Gutan and Randy had remained respectfully silent during this harangue but Randy spoke up. "Do you want me to kill him, Grandma?" "No, of course not. It's my own fault for getting my hopes up for a good conjugal visit. If you used your stinger to inject a smidgin of venom into the base of his cock, do you suppose that might make it become erect?" "It might, Grandma." Randy smirked and brandished his stinger. "Now wait a minute," Professor Everhard said. "That doesn't sound like such a good idea to me." "It seems like the only alternative," Grandma said, "since you refuse to do it yourself." "It's not under my control! Can't you understand that being threatened with scorpion venom injections into his manhood does not cause a man to become excited?" "You old coot!" Grandma shouted. "You should have become excited the moment I walked into the room. Don't these do it for you?" She reached into her shirt, pulled out her long flappy dugs, and held one in each hand. They looked like baby albino manatees, or obscene sock puppets, or two hairless rats that drowned and remained in the water a week before being recovered, all bleached and wrinkled and squishy. Professor Everhard vomited. "I guess that's my answer," Grandma said. "Inject him, Randy!" |
| While Professor Schnikelbottom was being injected with scorpion venom, the sixty-five mutant offspring of Gutan and Randy made their way to New Lufchatel Pond. Now granted, Randy wasn’t supposed to be able to father children, due to lack of motility in his scorpion semen, but something must have been there… Because these creatures were definitely not pure crab. Eight times larger than their parents, these androgynous arachnids each sported a bright orange carapace, and stingers arcing high above their backs. Each stinger had a venomous bulb the size of a large orange, and a diamond-sharp barb to deliver the venom. Their front claws were small in comparison to their bodies. It didn’t matter to the offspring, these claws were merely a way to bring food to their carnivorous mouths. The stinger was the REAL weapon. |
| Professor Everard awakened, feeling refreshed, without knowing why. Thanks to the venom coursing through his body, he jumped up out of Grandma Hooter’s embrace and went back to his beakers. Marcus had bumped into Slinky and together, they found an article in the Khasachasistan microfiche archives about Blizzard and its first, unsuccessful lawsuit. “I agree, we could try that angle,” said Slinky. Then, lifting his head from the page, eyed his associate. “Say...you’d make a good lawyer too. Ever considered passing the bar?” “I pass the bar every night. . . on my way home. Sometimes, I stop in and say hello to Purplehaze. Maybe you should too. He’s never had an unlawful encounter, unless you count his restless teen years,” Marcus said. “But then, we’ve all had those, haven’t we?” “Actually, rats don’t have teen years, but I know what you mean,” Slinky quickly agreed. “Does the place serve rats?” “No, but they have a good polecat stew,” Marcus retorted. “Yes - he’ll serve a drink to you, if you have money, or know someone. Come on, I’ll show you the way!” PurpleHaze was toweling his glasses when the vampire walked in with a rat on his shoulder. Without batting an eye, he asked, “What’ll it be, gents?” Marcus ordered a bloody-Mary and the rat asked for a tall glass of Hooterade. The vampire, taken aback at this, tried to warn his new friend. “Oh, I know all about the effects of Hooterade on humans (and zombie squirrels). But this stuff actually helps with my digestion. And...it helps me see the special aura contained inside every citizen of New Lufchatel.” Marcus was beginning to see a new friendship forming with Slinky, the lawyer rat. And he liked it. |
| Meanwhile, BBWolf was looking around for a library so he could borrow some books. |
He bumped into Aristocrates and it occurred to him that with a name like Aristocrates the zombie squirrel was probably literate. "Say, Aris, my squirrel! Do you know where the library is?" Aris did a doubletake. "There's a library in New Lufchatel?" "I guess not," BBWolf said with a heavy head. "Now, wait a minute bro, don't be so quick to go on the down low. I know Harry likes to read and since he's the mayor he can probably find ways to use public funds to finance his own personal collection of tomes. It's a tome you're looking for, right?" "It doesn't have to be a tome, an ordinary book will do." "That's my advice, then. See Harry." Marcus and Slinky were getting drunker and drunker at the bar. PurpleHaze continued to wipe the glasses. Some of them had become so thin from the obsessive toweling that when you tapped them with your fingernail they rang tones as pure as perfect crystal . "I'll tell yoush one thing!" Marcus said. "Oh yeah?" Slinky said. "Whash that?" "Whash what?" "The one thing. Whash the one thing?" "I don't know! Hey, Purplish Hazish-ish...ish... Whash the one thing?" At the amusement park, Chub-Chub was tilt-a-whirling the last few tilt-a-whirlers before shutting the ride down for the night. The recording of a circus organ playing "Bicycle Built For Two" over and over finally fell silent. Sometimes Chub-Chub got sick of it, but if he substituted anything else his regular customers would complain: "What happened to the music?" so Chub-Chub endured the daily assault on his musical sensibilities. Having two heads helped because one of them could wear headphones. Later Chub-Chub went home to his one-bedroom apartment. He was expecting an email from Uncle Slinky but there was nothing in the inbox except an ebay notification that he had been outbid on a cheese auction. Grandma Hooter was asleep and snoring. Conjugal visits made her sleepy. Tomorrow was Barnacle Bill's turn. Nobody in New Lufchatel knew who he was, but Grandma knew. Grandma had friends everywhere. |
| Marcus thought for a minute on how he could possibly be drunk… Then he pushed aside that thought and drank some more. Slinky knew why he was, it was all part of Slinky’s evil plan. But Slinky was too drunk to think so deeply and he passed out, plopping heavily into Marcus’s Bloody Mary. “Um, bartender?” “Yeeeees?” Purple said. “Theresh a rat in my fucking DRANK!” Purple pulled the rat out by the tail and laid him on a soft dish cloth. The rat lay deep in slumber, breathing evenly, his blackish-gray fur matted with clots of tomato juice. Purple resumed his glass wiping. “Why on earth would getting drunk cause you to affect a southern dialect?” “Thash jush it, Purple… I’m not supposed to be able to get drun… dru…” The handsome vampire’s head landed on the bar with a thud, right beside his tomato-juice soaked friend. Ravenwand emerged from the back. “Everything okay here, Purp?” “Yeah, take care of old Slinky here, he’s had a little too much to drink.” “What about Marcus?” she asked “Nevermind him, I have yet another mystery to solve.” Raven picked up the Blackish-gray animal. “Poor little guy… Hey Purp, is this a wild rat?” “No, he’s actually quite intelligent and well-bred” “Hmmm,” she mused. “Lets get you back in the back room and clean you up, handsome!” she cradled the rat like a baby as his long ropy tail hung limply from the dish towel. “MAKE SURE YOU THROW THAT TOWEL AWAY,” Purp yelled at her from the bar. |
“But first, this mystery,” PurpleHaze muttered, reopening his latest Puzzle Lady book by Parnell Hall. Ravenwand peered at him from the back room and smiled. I wonder if Purp realizes he moves his lips when he read to himself, she mused. Nice lips... Marcus was dreaming. He was in a darkened part of the amusement park. It was after midnight, which was his favorite time of day. The freaks came out at night. This was, then, the freak show section. But there was Chub-Chub, right in the middle of a group of red-clad rodents. Standing beside him was Aristocrates, reading from a huge tome that lay open on the ground. Behind the zombie squirrel was his new lover Winnie. As he approached them, he became detached from his physical body and floated above the scene. They were chanting something incoherent and it seemed they were all waiting for someone important. Then, as if his thought triggered the event, Slinky came sauntering into view. He was carrying a very small book in one hand and a canteen in the other. Marcus nearly gagged as he realized the rat was walking erect, like a human. “Harry’s got a stash of ‘em,” Slinky said, in Marcus’s dream. Just then, the sound of two writers gasping made Marcus awaken. “Steve! What are you doing here?” Ravenwand gasped aloud. She was still drying Slinky’s tail, but was doing so, quite absentmindedly. PurpleHaze had been standing behind her, admiring her...work. He’d gasped because he’d seen a part of Raven that he hadn’t seen before. But Steve’s entrance had changed all that. He was about to explain all about Barnacle Bill. |
| Meanwhile, BBWolf was busy creating a "Shoot-em-up" game, in which the "Hero" was shooting a bunch of corrupt corprate lawyers. The funny thing was, the "Hero" looked like him, and the lawyers looked like Blizards'. |
BBWolf was having trouble thinking of a name for the game. Wolf Kills the Lawyers was simple and direct, but maybe a little too simple. Then Simple Justice popped into BBWolf's head. He liked that one. It was like Die Hard and other great two word titles like Kill Bill. Except it seemed a little vague. Maybe Wolf Justice? Or how about Snow Job? Meanwhile, in Marcus's dream, Uncle Slinky was moaning and groaning as his sensitive tale was carressed into ecstatic trembulations by Ravenwand. Don't bother looking up "trembulating" -- it's a technical term for rodent tale arousal shivers, sometimes applied to possums and armadilloes, but you really shouldn't be playing sex games with armadilloes. It's perverse. Not that I have any desire to tell you how to live. After PurpleHaze (we're still in the dream) was done seeing the part of Ravenwand that he had never seen before, he went back to polishing his sparkling glasses. (You'll recall the real Purp is reading a book. Try to keep up.) Steve (in Marcus's dream) decided it was time to tell the story of Barnacle Bill. Marcus in real life began to mutter and squirm. He wanted so much to wake up. But Steve's droning "story voice" was making him even sleepier. It was a nightmare! "...and so," Steve continued (need I say: 'in Marcus's dream'?) "...Barnacle Bill bought a ticket on the good ship Lick My Pop in hopes that he would finally discover who his Daddy was. But no, it was not that kind of ship. It was a tramp steamer owned by Ava Gardner and Humphrey Bogart. It only visited cities that were completely painted over in shades of black and white. "This sucks!" Barnacle Bill said. "I'd give me left barnacle to be off this boat and into a technicolor catamaran with some polynesian grass skirt girls." Well, because it was a dream, that's exactly what happened. The sky was blue and they were bouncing across the waves in a native outrigger canoe with a 100 horsepower Mercury mounted on the back of it. Inevitably, it hit a small swell and exploded into a thousand fragments of coconut palm shards... Marcus raised his head up from the bar. "Holy Shamollians! What a dream!" "Shut up," PurpleHaze said. "The Puzzle Lady is just about to figure out where she left her favorite bra." |
| Ravenwand finished washing off the rat and gently dried his fur. “Hmmm,” she thought, “obviously, this isn’t a wild rat, his fur is too silky. I think he’s a black satin…” she examined his ears, which were lower on his head than a normal rat’s ears would be, “Dumbo.” Good old slinky was a well-bred rat, probably from a well-respected rattery. Ravenwand had an affinity for rats, she used to keep them a few years ago. She had some beauties, a few that looked like Arisocrate’s girlfriend… Even hairless rats, but never a handsome fellow like Slinky. She was smitten. She was admiring her discovery when Purp burst through the back room door. “You better get out here, all heck is breaking loose!” “Just heck, no Hell?” Rave smiled. “Just get your cutie butt out here. Jeez.” Raven lined a large mixing bowl with a soft dish towel, and lay the beautiful rodent in the container. “Sleep well, handsome…” she whispered. Rave left the back room and went into the bar. Rehab stood on one of the far end tables, waving a crudely-made crossbow. “They need to be stopped!” he screamed hysterically. When he saw Ravenwand approaching he aimed the crossbow at her and growled, “Don’t come closer, white hairless bitch!” She noticed he was sweating and fairly vibrating from excitement. Raven made solid eye contact with the neanderthal. He kept the crossbow aimed at her chest. She hoped he wouldn’t accidentally trip the trigger in his nervousness. She smiled at Rehab, and lowered her voice to a seductive purr. “I’m not totally hairless, I still have some on my head.” Her unusual comeback threw Rehab off guard and he lowered the crossbow in his confusion. Purp took the opportunity to snatch the crossbow from his grip and tossed it behind the bar. Rehab looked at his empty hands, groaned helplessly then fainted on the table top. |
| For PurpleHaze to claim "all heck", when it was only one Lahtrednaen with a crossbow, made Raven pause. Then she realized he was still trembling. She looked around the bar. "Where'd Marcus go?" she asked. "They took him! I was doing what I do best, well second-best," he admitted. "Washing glasses?" "Yeah. Anyway, I looked up when I heard the bell chime over the door and there they were. The Hooters were all armed with Renaissance Faire weapons. Rehab pointed his crossbow at me as four others grabbed the ZBH and dragged him out the door. He was still groggy from some weird dream he'd had." "Where do you think they took him?" Cutiebutt asked. "They were hooting a lot. But I think they mentioned something about Monsignor Weretuna. Do you know him?" Purp was ranting now. It was not like him to rant. He'd rather be pontificating, truth be told. "Did you just call me Cutiebutt?" Ravenwand asked. "No. Well, maybe. But don't change the subject." "Okay. Let's call Harry. He's the mayor, after all. Maybe he has an idea that we, the writers, haven't discovered yet." |
| However, all they got from Harry was a bunch of "i'm Busy"s and hang-ups. Meanwhile, BBWolf, along with his Dead Rising 2 computer-counterpart Seamus, was in his attic, which was only reachable by a ladder that was keyed to his palmprint. "And people thought that I was nuts to keep you around," BBWolf muttered. "Yeah, but I'm not the only one here," Seamus said, pointing over his shoulder. BBWolf took a look and saw two men, one wearing a motorcycle jacket, and the other wearing a brown jacket, and carrying a camera. "You brought Frank West and Chuck Greene here?" BBWolf asked. "Great, now Capcom will be after me." "Worry about your lawsuits later," Seamus said. "We have these crazy Neanderthals to deal with." BBWolf took a look out his small window and drew his head back in a second. "There's at least a thousand just outside, and maybe twenty inside." "You have to wonder what's up with them," Seamus said. "They could be zombified," Frank suggested. "That's a possibility," Chuck said. "Of course, I don't know much about these guys." |
Chuck, Frank, BB, and Seamus decided to wear matching leather jackets in the interest of putting up a unified front against the menace. That caused a small delay while arrangements were made with the New Lufchatel seamstress, Loretta Needlepricker, to do a rush job at night. "I'm a single mom!" she complained. "That's funny, I don't see any kids," Seamus said. "They're in boarding school but I still think about them a lot." "Just make the jackets. We'll pay you double." They chose black leather. Frank and Chuck wanted the Capcom logo on it but BBWolf was insistent that it be a snarling wolf head. "Come on, guys! I'm not trying to be the boss of you, but at least give me some cred for organizing this, OK?" "Fine," Seamus grumbled. "Snarling wolf head it is." And they all agreed that they did look swell in their matching jackets. "We should all wear the same jeans," Seamus said, so they did that. It wasn't possible to wear four matching pair of boots, but at least they all had a pair of black ones to wear. It was getting to be dawn when they finally stepped outside in their new duds. "Where did the Neanderthals go?" Chuck mused. Frank chuckled. "Little cowards probably ran away and hid when they saw US coming!" All four heroes laughed. Monsignor Weretuna wrapped his cloak about him as he walked beside the sea. The night air was cold and wet and salty. Occasionally a baby flying fish slapped him in the side of the head, but Monsignor Weretuna still loved his night walks by the sea. Unnoticed by the Monsignor, a little orange crab scuttled along behind him. On the crab's back was a scorpion. "Where do you think he's going?" The scorpion whispered. "I don't know," Gutan said. "That's why we're following him... to find out." "Oh." |
| Monsignor Weretuna stopped by a weathered cave face and looked around him. Gutan and Randy hid behind a rock and watched as the cave face rippled then seemed to disappear altogether. “Ahhh, sssshhhhppp… Just as I, sssshhhhppp expected.” Gutan and Randy scuttled up to the entrance but before they could get through, the doorway rippled and again became solid rock. Meanwhile, in New Lufchatel Lady of Perpetual Agony and Pulchritude Hospital for the Demented and Lonely, (NLLOPSSPHFTDAL) for short, Rehab lay on a pristine white hospital bed, strapped to the bars with heavy restraints. “HOOOOOOT,” was all he could say. |
| Harry was having a heated discussion with Grandma Hooter. She had a heater pressed against his head. Actually, it was a hot-air gun. She was threatening him. So every time the phone rang, he either said, "I'm busy" and hung up, or simply picked it up and hung it up without answering. Randy, riding Gutan, whispered something to his sideways-walking girlfriend. She immediately headed back to town. They bumped into Aristocrates on their way back. Using claws, a little telepathy and a lot of patience, the convinced the zombie squirrel to join their little band of mercenaries. When they finally located BB Wolf and his gang of four, they had to go through the whole rigamarole again to get the boys to understand their urgency. Seamus said, "Finally! A lead. Let's ride." BBWolf, Seamus, Frank and Chuck straddled their Harleys and headed to the beach. "Since when is New Lufchatel near the sea?" someone asked. "Shut up doofus!" BB replied. "It's called artistic license. Khasachasistan is near a large body of water. That's all that matters." Chobee Jr. and the kids decided they were heading back to the Tilt-A-Whirl. They had taken great pains to remove all the breakfast from their stomachs first. It was their intent to get several free rides from the two-headed rat. |
| "I wonder what the others are doing," BBWolf said. "Couldn't be any worse than us," Seamus suggested. |
When the gang of assorted do-gooders, misfits, heros, and crustaceans arrived at the rock face, the sun was already rising on the eastern side of the "sea". "That's no sea," Seamus said. "It's just a big lake." "Try living two inches off the ground," Gutan said, "And it will be an ocean for you." "But I thought Monsignor Weretuna enjoyed night walks by the sea?" Aristocrates jumped up and down and emitted some angry chittering which translated as, "Goddammit! Are we going to spend all our time with obscure semantic discussions? Get on with it!" "The squirrel's right," Seamus said. "Screw the sea. Where's this rippling cave door of which you speak?" "Right there," Gutan said, pointing an orange claw. The boys tapped and poked and prodded the rocks with no results. "Why don't you try Open Sesame," Aristocrates suggested. "OPEN says me!" Seamus yelled and the rocks began to ripple. "That's more like it," Randy murmured. "The chase is on." As the sun rose higher in the sky, Chobee Jr and kids bought a roll of tickets for the Tilt-A-Whirl. "That's a lot of tickets," Chub-Chub said. Chobee gritted his teeth. "We're going to conquer this thing if it gives us all hemorrhoids and diarrhea." "The double R syndrome," Chub-Chub said. "That appeals to a two-headed creature like me." Chobee stared at him. "I don't live my life for the sake of appealing to two-headed rats." "Of course not," Chub-Chub said. "Enjoy the ride, sir." Meanwhile, in the New Lufchatel Lady of Perpetual Agony and Pulchritude Hospital for the Demented and Lonely, the door to Rehab's room slowly creaked open. At first, because of the light streaming through the door and throwing the visitor into a dark silhouette, rehab couldn't identify who it was. Then recognitioned dawned and Rehab felt a scream build up in his throat, starting as just a little baby gurgle, swiftly growing to that crusty sound a small town siren makes as it is just beginning to wind up, and then rapidly Rehab's scream enlarged into the fullsome terror roar of a full-grown male Neanderthal. |
| It was Amanda Biteme, and she looked hungry. The door slammed behind her and two of the pseudo artworks swayed from their nails on the wall. A low, throaty growl escaped the furious vampire and within an eye blink she was by Rehab’s side, fangs bared, ready to strike. “I killed Enanny, and I’ll kill you too, if you don’t do exactly what I say…” she hissed. “HOOT but what can I HOOOT do, if I’m HOOOOOOOOOT tied to this HOOOOOOOOOOOT bed?” Amanda began to gnaw on the leather restraints. Between gnashing she told him. “You missed your intended target… Ravenwand lives… AND they took Marcus!” “We heard he was plotting against us, HOOOT I didn’t want to HOOOOOt do it, but HOOOOOOT they made me, and I never meant to shoot HOOOOT Ravenwand.” “You didn’t?” “HOOT no, I did not.” “Do you know where they took Marcus?” she asked, feverishly. “They were taking him HOOOOOOT to Monsignor HOOOOOT Weretuna HOOT HOOOT.” |
| Barnacle Bill was standing just inside the hidden door of the cave where Monsignor Weretuna had taken Marcus. He was there to make sure no unwanted ‘guests’ got through. Luckily for the four leather-jacket-clad men, zombie squirrel, scorpion and crab, they were all wearing stickers on their ...um...lapels, that said, “Hi, I’m a guest!” The seven secret samurais slipped surreptitiously down into the depths of the warm cave. Bill didn’t follow, because his character hadn’t been completely fleshed out yet, so he had to remain where he was. Apart from their echoing footsteps, the only other sound was that of a dentist’s drill. The only one who couldn’t stand the sound was Seamus. But he gritted his teeth and plunged an index finger into each ear as he descended with the others. The passageway debouched into a large cave resembling a darkened ice-hockey arena. BBWolf strode to the center and howled. From every corner of the round room (do round rooms have corners?), came a hooting. Chills ran up the four men’s spines. Aristocrates’ hair stood on end. Randy clung tighter to Gutan’s back. The crab, being the only female in the group, shook her head in disgust. Always gotta be the males panicking, she thought to herself. Oh well. Amanda slinked out of the NLLOPSSPHFTDAL, sated. Not only had she drained most of the fluids from Rehab’s body, she’d also drained all the information in the helpless Hooter’s head. He’d not be hooting off any time soon. Instead of heading to the beach, Amanda went to find Grandma Hooter, the matriarch of the clan. The old ‘woman’ was waiting for her. “I’ve got what you requested. But there may not be enough Hooterade in all of New Lufchatel for what you’re planning!” |
| Meanwhile, someome of the neanderthals started farting, and others joined in, trying to see who would have the largest, and stinkiest fart. |
"It's a Hooter Fartfest," BBWolf said from the center of the cave. The other six of the seven joined him at the center. "Will there be beer?" Chuck asked. Frank slapped the back of Chuck's head. "He said FARTfest, imbecil, not BEERfest. Don't you know your fests?" "I wasn't raised to be festive," Chuck moaned as he rubbed the back of his aching head. "We had Festivus For The Rest Of Us," Frank said. "During the off season we studied Comparative Festology. I may not believe in what they stand for, but at least I am familiar with the fests of the world. They are many and varied and-" "Shut up, Frank," Seamus said. "You are far too scholarly for a group like this. We are Seven Secret Samurai and dedicated to action, revenge, and bloodshed. Save your festology discussions for your sissy school friends." "I did NOT go to Sissy School!" Frank protested. "That was the Academy of Saint Sisyphus." "Is it true they taught Rock and Roll every year?" Randy asked. For a scorpion he had an extensive knowledge of 20th century music. "Actual it was Rock Rolling," Frank said. "I remember this one professor who-" "Shut up, Frank!" Seamus yelled. "This cave is growing stinkier by the minute." "And louder," Aristocrates said. Indeed, the hoots were reaching a crescendo so loud that the Seven Secret Samurai could barely hear themselves speak. |
| She hadn't drained ALL of Rehab's blood, a bit was still coursing through his Neanderthal veins at a sluggish, but effective pace. The vampire venom was also doing its work and he was starting to feel invincible. With a roar that would have deafened a deaf person, he snapped the straps from his wrists and legs and crashed through the north wall of his room, on a quest for human life fluid. The author couldn't remember what happened to Enanny, last she remembered, Everard had cured her of her vampire-zombieism. Nonetheless, her head shot up from the book she was reading and she sniffed the stale Lufchatel air. Since their falling in love, Enanny and Rehab had developed a mind connection, and this had been kicked into overdrive. Meanwhile, under the "Nearly Forgotten Characters and Bit Players" sign in Purple Haze's bar, REAPER sat slowly sipping a Braintini. Georgette sat with him, but her eyes were wandering to other men. Toby was there as well. Cherie, Chobee and their five children were sharing a family meal in the "Family Food" section. Alice Wormbiter was there too, nursing the wounds on her slowly healing face. Georgette had grown nearly a whole new countenance for her. Suddenly the door burst open and Rehab ran into the bar, making a B-line for Ravenwand. |
| "Monsignor Weretuna...you are getting sleepyyyyy," Marcus intoned. And for two-thirds of a moment, he thought it might be actually working. But the last one-third of that moment saw the Monsignor's eyes flick open. "How'd you get your gag off?" he asked, looking over at his captive. "And don't answer that. I can see you bit right through it. The boss will be here soon and you can try your stupid Jedi tricks on him." "Him? So the boss is a HIM? Great. I was wondering if it might be a her. Now I know. Thanks for giving away half the plot, doofus," Marcus retorted. Meanwhile, in Hooter Hall, Enanny and Rehab were summoning the stork, hitting the refresh button, polishing the furniture, changing the chlorine in the pool, and basically giving the Blenjeel sand worm a bad taste in its mouth. But after they put their clothes back on, they went back to hoooooting. Heck, it was what the Hooters did, right? Slinky had awakened in a towel-lined bowl, refreshed and feeling like he'd been groomed by one of the finest females around. He slinked (no pun intended) to the Khasachasistan Community College library and finally found the one thing that would help BBWolf beat down the Blizzard lawyers, half-hidden behind the stacks of Playboys, GQ and Mel Brooks movie scripts. But when he went to look for the writer in his favorite bar, the rat couldn't find him. So he went to the Tilt-A-Whirl and told his two-headed nephew to keep his "eyes" out for the guy. |
| "So what am I to do now?" he asked. "Have you been paying attention?" a random rat asked. "The neanderthals went nuts, and most are after anyone who isn't a neanderthal." |
"Get off my ride!" Chub-Chub said to the Random Rat. He hated Random Rats. Most of them didn't have a kopek, yen, galactic credit, or cent to their name. They always wanted a free ride "for a rat brother, bro!" and Chub-Chub wasn't in business to run a non-profit operation. Leave that to the charities and do-gooders. Chub-Chub was all about personal gain. Slinky waited patiently while Chub-Chub finished his internal rant. He knew it was over when Chub-Chub's eyes lost their glaze and refocused on his surroundings. "So what am I to do now?" Slinky repeated. Chub-Chub assigned one of his brains to the problem while the other one took tickets for the next crowd on the Tilt-A-Whirl. While one head was saying "Tighten your seatbelts," the other head was saying, "Hmmm... interesting problem, Slinky. When did I become your muse? Who assigned me as your guardian angel?" "No need to be sarcastic," Slinky said. "I thought your superior brain power might see something I overlooked. That's all." "Did you read all the back issues of Farmers Almanac?" "No, of course not. What's the relevance?" "Blizzards. Predictions of same. Correlate dates and accuracy. Draw up a chart. Connect the dots. See if the big picture emerges." Slinky's mouth fell open. "Wow! it's really true what they say about having two brains. Thanks, Chub! I'll get on it right away." Meanwhile, the renegade neanderthals were milling aimlessly about the mall, hooting, shoplifting, terrorizing, molesting, foraging. A few even contemplated hibernating, but it was not the time or place for that. Suddenly Anita came driving into the mall in Georgette's pickup truck. She crashed right through the glass doors. Later viewings of the security camera tapes would elicit gales of laughter, but for now it was serious business with lots of yelling and screaming and the sound of a Dodge Hemi V-8 beiong revved. Hooting neanderthals scattered like leaves before an insane Mexican leafblower operator. I don't know why he would have to be insane to get the effect. Maybe that enhances the panic. The point is retail business in New Lufchatel was going to show a slump for the month. Fortunately, Purple Haze's bar was not in the mall, so those gathered there had little idea of the caveman carnage Anita was inflicting. In fact, in the dim lighting, and over the quiet jazz, Ravenwand was heard to say: "Can I have another one of those? More fizz this time, please." It was at that moment that the door burst open and Rehab ran into the bar, making a B-line for Ravenwand... |
| "It is called the A-line because the effect resembles the capital letter A," Ravenwand explained. She was one of those rare women who looked good in an A-line outfit. Rehab had been running in a serpentine line for most of the morning. After noon, he had switched to a conga line, but due to lack of dance partners, had subsequently switched to the B-line, which was where Ravenwand was standing, just beside the bar. PurpleHaze scowled. "Dammit Rehab! Stop bursting my doors open! They cost a bundle," he shouted. Then he turned back to toweling his tumblers, hi-balls and shot glasses. Rehab looked from one writer to the next, unsure what he'd been about to say. That was mainly because Steve had written him into the end of his last entry. But PurpleHaze knew what to do. He hastily wrote some lines on a fresh sheet of paper and quickly handed them around to all the writers for their approval. He received three nods, so he proceeded to walk towards Rehab. He pried the Hooter away from Ravenwand and put an arm over the shorter "man's" shoulder. As the inveterate writer steered Rehab to the far corner of the bar, the rest of the writers went back to sipping on their 'endless glasses' of whatever they were imbibing. Meanwhile, in a hidden cave, Marcus and Monsignor Weretuna were still engaged in a battle of wits. Actually, Marcus was holding all the "wit" cards and the monsignor was wallowing in self-pity, because he'd never learned how to play Wist. Or was that Myst? It didn't matter, anyway. By the time Marcus made his way out of the cave, the monsignor was trussed up and cursing himself for being such a poor poker player. He'd tried playing with the poker, but the chimney was just too hot for him. Amanda saw Marcus and smiled. |
| Of course, BBWolf, Seamus, Frank, and Chuck were wondering when they'd be allowed to do some killing. "I hate it when people give me the run-around," BBWolf said. "It's like they skip over some things," Seamus muttered. |
The stage manager peeked in. "Hey! Are you guys going to sit around belly-aching all day? Didn't you hear your cue?" Chuck grabbed a chainsaw. "Is it killing time already? Why didn't you give us a 3-minute warning?" Seamus and Frank snatched up whatever weapons were close at hand. As usual, BBWolf decided to rely on his claws and teeth and ability to produce a really menacing-sounding snarl. "Arrrrggggghhhh!" he snarled, then coughed and squirted a little throat spray in his mouth and snarled again, this time with a better tone to it. He looked fondly at the spray can. "If it wasn't for this Dr Bruno's Snarl-Rite, I wouldn't have no snarl at all." Meanwhile, in a corner of PurpleHaze's bar, Purp and Rehab were deep in conference. "I need more emotion from you," Purp said. "You're playing the scene too flat." "Who died and made you the Director?" Rehab said. Purp pushed his chair back. "Oh. That's the way it's going to be, is it? Who has seven seasons playing summer theater and who has no experience AT ALL? Who constantly flubs his lines? Who never knows what to say next? Who can't even walk into a bar without damaging the doors? Who?" Rehab crossed his arms and scowled. "I hate it when you old blokes try to run everything. You think you know it all, don't you? You stand there polishing the same glass for an hour and think it's given you a Zen insight into the nature of reality. You think-" Purp put his hand up to Rehab's mouth. "Stop right there. You've said enough. I don't want you to ruin your career just because you don't have enough self-control to keep your thoughts to yourself." Rehab shoved Purp's hand away and stood up so quick he knocked his chair over. "Career? HA! Screw you and all your loony friends! I hate New Lufchatel! I hate everybody in it! And I especially hate you! I'm outta here, jerk face!" Rehab shot an upraised finger at the bar patrons who had turned to watch the scene play out. "So long, losers! You won't have Rehab to kick around anymore!" Then he walked out, his boots crunching on the shards of glass on the floor from the door he had smashed on his way in. In the distance he could hear yelling and screaming, gunshots, and the sound of a chainsaw. |
| Seamus, Frank and Chuck walked into a solid wall of flesh. “Hey!” Gerg shouted. Luckily, BBWolf had stepped around the giant foot that was standing just inside the cave. He looked up and smiled at Chobee’s brother. “I knew you would be here!” he shouted up. “If Purp hadn’t written it that way, I sure as Hell would have. Lift me up, big fella, so I can direct these boys to mayhem and glory.” Gerg reached a hamhand down and picked up the formerly superfluous writer, setting him on his right shoulder. All around the walls of the cave, Gerg’s shouted “hey” was still reverberating. Marcus and Amanda were strolling in the moonlight, thinking of Bullabulling and the time they’d met. Rehab ran serpentine (for no other reason than he was done walking in a b-line) towards the waterfront. His feet took him directly into the path of a fire-breathing crabion. Actually, it was a slew of crabions, but since the exact number in a slew has never been calculated, it’s better for the reader to assume he walked into only one of them. This writer would shudder to think what a slew and a half of crabions could do to one hairy beast, such as the Hooter. Come to think of it, maybe that’s why Grandma Hooter had been breeding them in the first place... to eliminate Mayor Harry. |
Nimbly (for one with big flat feet) Rehab leaped over the crabions and ran out on the pier where a sweet little yacht (probably one of Harry's) sat rocking in the water. "That's my ticket out," Rehab muttered and cast off the yacht's lines. Soon he was drifting out to sea. Overhead the night sky was filled with a thousand and one stars. The ocean gently lapped at the sides of the yacht. Rehab leaned back and breathed in the salt air. "Ahhh!" he said. "Free at last!" The next day Harry was pissed off to discover one of his boats was missing, but he made no effort to go look for it. He just assumed it was pirates and filed an insurance claim for twice its value. Meanwhile (actually a little before meanwhile) BB,S,F,&C were fighting their way through a sweating, hooting wall of prehistoric muscle. Guns popped, chainsaws ripped, machetes slashed, and long heavy poles made satifying meat-thunking thuds. Such is mayhem. Enjoy it while you can. Those thoughts were shared by all. Sadly, as the participants dropped like slaughtered hogs, it slowly became obvious that the mayhem would end. You can't have a mayhem party if all the mayhemmers are dead or dying. "Hold off!" Seamus yelled. "If we kill them all then we'll run the risk of suffering from post-genocidal depression. Let's let a few of them get away." "Aw crap, Seamus!" Frank said. "You always get sentimental near the end of one of these things. I don't think we have ever completely wiped out anybody! You always want to let a few get away." Chuck and BB joined the argument. "Yeah! What's up with that? Absolute victory is the best way to go. Not this wimpy let-a-few-survive approach. It makes no sense!" The few remaining Hooters, seeing that the fearsome foursome were engaged in bickering banter and not paying attention, took the opportunity to sneak off the battlefield and run away. Seamus grinned. "You guys can stop arguing with me now. The battle's over." The other three whirled around to do doubletakes and eyepops. "Crap! He did it again!" |
| The band of escaped hooters ran into the nearby woods. "Whooee" exclaimed Hooper Hooter. "THAT was close hoot!" "Too close for comfort," replied Harper Hooter. "Let's go find our fearless leader." "You mean Rehab?" Hooper asked. "No, not Rehab, he be gone on one of the yachts." "Are there any more yachts?" "A few, by the East Beach." "Well, let's try to find Grandma Hooter. She'll know what to do!" So, hooting happily, Harper and Hooper Hooter hurriedly hustled to find the hoariest of the Hooters, Grandma. |
| Hoary Hooter stood behind Grandma Hooter, looking over her shoulder at Professor Everard. “Nice honker,” she exclaimed. “It IS, isn’t it?” replied Grandma. Then she leaned over and grabbed the honker and gave it a squeeze. “Good job on the crabions, ARDO,” Grandma said to the professor. Meanwhile (actually a little AFTER meanwhile), Amanda was grabbing Marcus’s honker and making it hoot. Or was that the other way around? (No, I don’t mean Marcus grabbed her hooters and made them honk.) As Rehab closed his eyes, a crabion climbed up the side of the yacht and chuckled to itself. As it latched on to the Hooter’s left toe, the Lahtrednaen’s eyes popped open. He saw the thing clutching his foot and said softly, “I think we got away, Scrappy.” |
Water began bubbling up into the yacht. Rehab grabbed the crabion and plugged the hole with it. "Such is serendipity," Rehab muttered and went back to sleep. It's hard to stay awake on a warm summer night when the gentle waves are lapping at the side of your boat. Back in Lufchatel, a certain two-headed rat (Chub-Chub, you dummy) was having difficulty sleeping because of the disturbing dreams he was having. This is a predictable side-effect of working at an amusement park where your diet consists of hot dogs, burgers, french fries, pizza, fried dough, and giant cups of off-brand soda with flavors like GollyGee Grape and Super Strawberry. In the dream, Chub-Chub was a young rat again, but this time with only one head, so he could actually get a date. She was a curvy blonde rat named Moisterene and well-known for her willingness to go all the way on a first date. This was their first date so Chub-Chub had a half dozen condoms stashed in his wallet. Unfortunately, he forgot to stash any money in his wallet, so Moisterene had to pay for their dinner. For some reason, that made her irritable and Chub-Chub sensed that she was somewhat cooler toward him than when the evening began. "I just forgot!" Chub-Chub said. "I'll pay you back tomorrow." Then Moisterene turned into a snake and bit him. Hey, it's a dream. How long can it stay logical? Chub-Chub screamed and grabbed the snake by its neck (yeah, I know, it's ALL neck) and began to choke the life out of it. Well, if that isn't a dream symbol for masturbation I don't know what is, but when you are IN your dream you don't get the symbolism. Fortunately, Chub-Chub didn't pull out a machete and cut off the snake's head, but he did choke it to death so now he had to bury it. Instead of choosing a shoebox tied shut with twine for a coffin, he selected a Santa Claus cap, one of those long red ones with a jingle bell sewn to the end of it. He stuffed his snake into the Santa Claus cap and waved his hands over it, saying, "Ali, Ali, go to Bali, Mommy's at the bowling alley. Be she hot or be she cold..." but then he couldn't remember the rest of the chant so he tossed the cap in the trash and put a bag of popcorn in the microwave. When the bell went off it scared the piss out of him and he sat up suddenly in bed. It was still only 3am. Chub-Chub moaned and fell back in the bed. "Oh, what I wouldn't give to have a good night's sleep." |
Ravenwand wondered what Steve had been "On" when he made his entry. Chub-chub finally gave up and exited his bed at 4am. Making a cup of coffee in his fancy little one cup coffee maker, he sat down on his tattered couch and flipped through several channels. "It slices, it dices, it splits atoms AND hairs... And it can be YOURS for only 19.99 plus shipping, handling, tax and processing " "Wow, I gotta get me one of those," he said, and started searching for his credit card. |
Steve'seyes were like saucers.  No, not like soccers. Saucers.  Closer, but the thing that sits on, got it? He'd been up for seventeen straight hours ( ) and he'd been partying         like there was no tomorrow  . Ravenwand wasn't much better off, but let's not go there, okay?   In New Lufchatel, Chub-Chub sat back with a satisfied look on his right face. His left face was squinting. He'd lost his glasses. Luckily, he still had his cups - the Tilt-a-Whirl. When he found his cutlery, he'd look into snake skinning as a hobby. Meanwhile (sometime after the previous meanwhile, but before the upcoming meanwhile sequel), Chobee Jr. and his siblings found a really long Santa Claus cap  with a jingle sewn into the end of it, in somebody's trash. When he picked it up, it wiggled, which everyone thought was really cool. So they took it to Professor Everard, who immediately microwaved it, thinking it was a pomegranate pie.  No, not paw, pie. Like a person with a sixth sense   (stop it!!!), the professor realized it wasn't a pomegranate pie , just before the whole thing exploded inside his microwave.Somewhere, in a cave, Monsignor Weretuna was writhing  (stop it, I said WRITHING, not WRITING) in pain. He was nursing a sore elbow. Why? I don't know, why don't you ask the emoticon fairy? Sheesh. |
| Meanwhile, BBWolf was wondering if he needed some new glasses. "Gesh!" he muttered. "I hate it when people write small. You need a magnifying glass to read the last addition. Someone put an end to it before I loose my mind. Uh Oh! Too Late!" |
Fortunately, Steve had a  to give to BBWolf. And thus everything returned to normal, or abnormal, depending on what you called normal.However, Steve noticed that there was now a distinct plot deficit. He considered the possibilities for plot development: zombie attack, chainsaw massacre, hillbilly hoedown, election fraud, nuclear holocaust... but all those things had already happened, and a bit more besides. Was that the problem? TOO MUCH had happened? Thus causing a strain in the fabric of reality which made further happenings more difficult? Would the world end in a burst of inactivity? Would everyone die in bed? It was a fate too horrible to... wait a minute. Maybe it wasn't all that bad. Dying in bed would... but here Steve realized he was thinking for himself instead of one of the characters whose actual JOB it was to think and act and misbehave in the story... so he slipped back into Chub-Chub's mind... Chub-Chub sat up in his bed with the distinct feeling that his mind had been violated. It was like something cold and clammy had entered his head through his ear, laid it's eggs, and then exited out the other ear. Wasn't that a Twilight Zone episode? Chub-Chub heard a distant echo of the Twilight Zone theme. A remarkable thought flashed in his brain: What am I doing in bed again? He snatched at the clock. 3AM! Where did the day go? He had a vague memory of the Tilt-A -Whirl whirling and tilting for hours while somewhere in the distance the Twilight Zone theme played over and over. Chub-Chub shook his head vigorously while making a "booga booga" noise with his lips. That helped. But there was no way he was going to lie down and sleep. Who knew what dreams might come? Although... if he could have just one halfway decent dream about Moisterene, the blonde temptress, it would be worth it. He sighed and pulled the blanket up to his noses. |
| 7-10 business days later, a plain, brown package arrived at Chub-chub's door. His heart leaped with joy at the sight of it. Winston lay in a pile of leaves, under a hollow oak tree, breathing heavily. Her abdomen was swollen and she looked huge. Aristocrates, being a smart zombie squirrel, but male nonetheless, hadn't a clue what was happening. He grimaced as one, then two, then rapidly three four plus hairless pink squeaking things exited her sensitive parts. Winnie looked at him as if to say, "A little help here?" The only thing he could think to do was hold her head while she continued to eject pink, wriggly squeakers. By the time her contractions stopped, there were fifteen of the little squealing Ratsquirrels vying for a spot at Winnie's teats. One of the babies, the tiniest of them all, had black blotches on its skin, meaning it would be black and white when it grew older... If it ever got an opportunity to do so. It was smaller than the rest and it's bigger siblings wouldn't let it have a chance at the mother's milk. "Are you okay here?" Aris asked, after she had settled down to suckling. "For now, yes, help the little one." Aris picked the smallest Ratsqurrel by the nape of its neck and ran to the nearest person he could think of, his effeminate friend Toby. "My my, it's been a while since I've even been mentioned, let alone had a visitor," Toby told him, through a veil of sarcasm. Toby lay down the little one. Toby's eyes brightened, as much as a zombie's eyes can brighten, and looked at Aristocrates. "It needs to eat," Aris said, "Winnie didn't have enough boobs." Toby winced at the mention of boobs, even moobs, he wasn't attracted to fat guys. He picked up the mewling Ratsqurrel, which was no bigger than a Lima bean in his hand. Not wanting to show too much delight at the return of his friend, Toby kept a poker face as he assured his former crush, "I'll see what I can do." Confident that his smallest offspring was in good, though rotted hands, he ran back to his girl. Lucky for the Ratsquirrel baby, Toby kept a goat in his back yard. Don't ask the author why, she doesn't want to go into details. Even so, the goat was lactating, and as everyone knows (or probably doesn't,) the best substitute for Mother's Milk is fresh, warm goats milk. |
| "C'mere Whystler...that's a good goatsy. Come on..." Toby cooed to his goat. Soon, Toby had even thought up a name for the runtiest Ratsquirrel. By the time Aris came back checking on the little tyke, he found his zombie friend talking to it. "Checkers considers me his mommy now. Sorry to say, but Winnie's not even in his little mind," Toby explained with a grim grin. "Che-che-checkers?" Aris chittered. He always chittered when he was nervous, or about to be fed the barrel of a nuclear weapon. But that hadn't happened in a very long time. In fact, it might have been two stories ago. "You don't like it? Tough. He's good and hooked on Whystler's milk. Thanks for stopping by..." Toby all but pushed his squirrel friend out the door. Aris went back to Winnie with his stomach in his throat, he concocted a story he'd eventually tell his "wife". Seamus, BBWolf and Gerg had gotten cut off from their other cohorts. Truth be told, they had gotten drunk on Rum-flavored sno-cones  . They were wandering the streets of New Lufchatel and had somehow bumped into Marcus-n-Amanda  necking in the park.  you glad I didn't say nekkid? Chub-Chub was dreaming of Moisterene. For once, his anaconda was right where it was supposed to be...snuggling into her buns, hon. |
| Meanwhile, BBWolf was checking his email when he remembered something; he was STILL being sued by Blizzard Entertainment. "Oh great," he said. "Where is that rat lawyer Slinky at?" |
Slinky woke up at the mention of his name. He was snoozing under BBWolf's window, waiting for the right moment to hit him up for additional funds. He swung a leg over the wiondow sill and leaped into BB's bedroom. "Hiya, bro! Need an update on your case?" "Yeah, I do," BB said. "What's the status?" "Status is good!" Slinky said. "We are making progress toward a big win. Not only am I going to force them to drop their lawsuit but I'm going to make them pay you a million dollars to compensate you for emotional damage." "Good show!" BB said. "It's looking very good indeed. Can you loan me a few bucks? I was so happy for you I ran out of the house and forgot my wallet!" They both laughed at the humor of that situation. BBWolf pulled out his money roll and peeled off some bills for his rat lawyer. Meanwhile Chub-Chub was opening his package. "What the hell?" Then he remembered ordering the slice-and-dice gadget from a late night TV ad. "Dammit! Why does my mind turn to mush late at night? I guess I'll put this with my Sham-Wow, my Quesedillo maker, my Snuggies, and my Chia pet collection." |
| Meanwhile, back on the island of Lahtrednean, an unusual creature scuttled ashore. It was soon followed by another creature, larger, but dull in color. The larger creature ran to the nearest shade tree, dug a shallow hole, and began laying eggs by the thousands. Meanwhile the brightly-colored male ran deeper into the jungle, in hopes of spreading his DNA. "Man-oh-man," thought Scuttlina the Crabion as she continued laying her thousands of eggs, "I'm sure glad Scrappy took me with him on his trip... *splork* ... My stronger claws...*glitch* ... tore that hole in the yacht... *splooge*... although, I feel sorry for that hairy hooting man, Scrappy deceived him so... *splunk*... Ahh, I think that's the last of them... nope... *glooooob*... Yes, finally finished." Scuttlina covered her fresh steamy pile of eggs with her large, powerful claws and patted the top of the mound. "Okay, my little ones, Ima go hunt down daddy, mommy has a powerful hunger after introducing y'all into the world!" For as everyone knows, (or probably doesn't) Crabion females consume the males of their species, shortly after they lay their eggs. Because what use is a male, when he's already served his purpose in the circle of life? |
| As probably nobody knew, crabions, being a brand-new species, grew very quickly. And although the first (laboratory-created) batch had been unique, the next hatchlings would take on their own characteristics. First, there would be the splorks. One claw would resemble a three-tined object used by humans for eating. Second, the glitch-crabions, were great at digging ditches. The splooge-crabions came in threes and for the purposes of this narrative, were best forgotten. The splunk-crabions were to be underwater cave explorers. Their purpose was unimaginable even by the greatest writers this world had ever seen. Finally, the glooooob-crabions would eventually take over the world. It would take a billion years, but it was their destiny. And they knew it. They were smug about it too. Off-island, back in New Lufchatel, the humans went about their daily lives, unaware of what fate awaited them on Lahtrednaen. Rehab had disappeared, but that meant nothing to the remaining Hooters. Apart from Grandma, who was busy with the professor, the rest of the mixed clan (some from the island - remember? and some from the hills above Lufchatel?) were having fun mixing concrete. None of them knew what to do with it once it hardened, so they were leaving large cauldrons of hardened concrete all over town. Harry and Toby had been talking in Harry’s downtown office when they both spotted the Hooters hooting over yet another cauldron. Upon further investigation, the zombie and werewolf discovered a pot on every corner. “What are we going to do with these?” Harry asked. “Paint ‘em gold and tell the citizens that Leprechauns left them?” Toby replied with a giggle. |
| "Na, the Leprechauns would complain," Harry said. "And then we'd be at war with Ireland." "Are you sure about that?" Toby asked. "Oh yeah, those Leprechauns run the country." |
"I have an idea," Toby said. "We could paint the cauldrons white and call them dinosaur eggs." "I don't get it," Harry said. "Everybody knows dinosaurs are extinct." "That's why they are petrified dinosaur eggs." "I still don't get it," Harry said. "Everybody knows there were no eggs lying around town two weeks ago. So how did petrified dinosaur eggs get here?" "They fell out of the sky," Toby said. "Rocks fall out of the sky all the time. Why not petrified dinosaur eggs?" "You know, Toby," Harry said, putting a friendly arm across Toby's shoulder. "This is exactly why you seldom get to say much in this story. I know you probably think you make sense, but really, you don't. You just give people a headache and they start wishing they weren't listening to you." "Is that why they walk away before I finish talking?" "It is, Toby! It is! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some important business to attend to." Toby watched Harry walk away and muttered to himself. "Actually, he's wrong. I'll bet he didn't even read the part about my goat Whystler and the rat squirrel babies. I'm a major star in this epic. It's Harry that seldom gets a line. The stupid fool. He thinks because he's the mayor that he's the hero of the story, but he's not! He's just a bit player with an occasional straight line. The pompous ass. Was he there when the Magnificent Four were killing zombies? No! Has he ever ridden on the Tilt-A-Whirl? No! Has he even been in the back of Georgette's truck riding down a bumpy road at midnight? No! I'll give him this much, he shows up at Purp's bar for a drink now and then." Toby kicked the dirt with his boot, then put his hands in his pockets and shuffled off to home to see what Whystler might be doing. |
| "Ma-a-a-a-a-a-a!" Whystler was bleating when Toby got home. "Ma-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a!" "Heavens to Betsy, what's wrong pretty girl?" Toby simpered, stroking her brown and white fur. Whystler looked at him with her horizontally slitted eyes and bleated again. "Ma-a-a-a-a-a-a!" "What's that girl?" "Ma-a-a-a." "Checkers? What about Checkers?" "MA-A-A-A-A-A-A-AAAAAA!" "He's missing? Where did he go?" "Ma." "He went to find his real mother? He's too small! He could get snatched up by a wereraven, or worse yet, a mechanical dragonfly!" "Maa-a-a-a-a?" "Oh nevermind, I was caught up in a pleasant memory... Which way did he go?" Whystler lifted her hoof and pointed due east. "Ma-a-a." Toby petted her coarse fur and tickled her beard. She nuzzled the hem of his shirt and turned around, presenting her backside. "Not now, Whystler, I have to find checkers!" Toby ran out the door and Whystler stared after him, an evil, revengeful glint in her odd golden eyes. |
| As Toby left to find some stupid board game, Whystler whistled low. Out from behind the washboard came the little Ratsquirrel. Exiting the far door and only looking back once, the goat and Ratsquirrel headed west. As the sun began to set, Whystler said, “Ma-aa-aa-aa?” Checkers replied, “You’re right. This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” As Toby rounded the corner, he ran smack dab into what looked like a large dinosaur egg. Puzzled, he forgot all about Checkers and decided to pay Georgette a visit. He’d just walked into her house when THE REAPER bellowed, “BABY, WHERE’S MY LUNCH?” As Toby wondered why the REAPER was suddenly back in the story, Georgette came ‘round the corner and threw a barbecue chicken breast at Mr. Death. Then she spied Toby and winked at him to follow her into the back room. As Toby muttered, “Oh crap,” he noticed as Georgette took off her apron. Her teats looked better than Whystler’s any day. But seeing them made him remember why he’d come east. He had to find Aris. |
Georgette grabbed Toby's arm. "Don't go yet, big boy. Isn't there something you want to do?" She winked meaningfully at him. "Uh, yeah," he said. "What I want to do is go." "Noooo, I mean do to me. Get it?" "I don't want to get it. Please let go." Georgette pulled him tight to her breast. Her breath was hot and smelled like popcorn, peanuts, and crackerjacks. He resisted the urge to ask about a ball game, but it was as if she was reading his mind. "That's right, big boy, I want to play the old ball game with you. How's your bat?" As she groped for his bat, Toby realized the situation was getting out of hand. Or into hand. Her hand. "Woops!" he cried. "Let go of my bat!" But her grip was powerful. "Oh good grief," Toby thought. "I hope this doesn't go to a meanwhile and leave me here like this..." Meanwhile, Chub-Chub was having another one of his dreams. Towards the end of it he was struggling to say something, but in that pesky way dreams have when you are almost awake, he couldn't get the words out except by hoarsely shouting them, and then he woke up and realized he had been yelling in his sleep, something about, "... you wouldn't criticise her for clinging to a stuffed doll so why do you criticise her for that little robot? To her it's a doll!" Chub-Chub had a vague memory of a parent-teacher conference about a little girl in the dream. His daughter? Dreamland must be an incredibly complex and mysterious place where a two-headed rat carny could have a problem with a school about his human daughter. But what the hell? Wasn't he entitled to better dreams? Who was programming these dreams for him? Surely not his own subconscious. How could his own mind be so ignorant about what would entertain him? Chub-Chub sighed and crawled out of bed. Another day at the Tilt-A-Whirl. Oh well, it was a living. |
| Chuck, Frank, Seamus and BBWolf were standing in line a the Tilt-A-Whirl. Each was concealing a weapon. The plan was...well, let’s let BB tell it, shall we? “What’s the plan again, BB?” asked Chuck, just in time. “Chub-Chub’s uncle is a shyster lawyer. We grab the two-headed rat and squeeze him until Slinky comes to rescue him. If that doesn’t happen, well...we take over this little amusement park and show these rats just how humans run the place,” BB explained. “Into the ground, right?” growled Frank. The others looked at him in that way parents look at their child whose just taken his favorite meal and smushed it into his face instead of eating it. “Gimme your weapon,” BB said. “What? No!” he protested. “I meant...” “Go on, save your hide or dig the hole deeper dude.” “Okay. The Tilt-A-Whirl is a great idea, don’t get me wrong. Like the narrator said all those paragraphs ago, it was invented in the twenties. But all I’m saying is, if we built a roller-coaster ride that went underground, it would be cool and rats love underground stuff and we’d probably make MORE money at the thing than this little two-headed rat has...” Seamus whispered in Chuck’s ear, “Nice try dude.” Then they both chuckled. Or seamusled. Never mind. “Okay. I see your point, Frank,” BB said, surprising the other two. “You were almost off the deep end there in a boat without a paddle one stitch short of a tapestry one less bell to answer one less egg to fry. But you can stay on the team.” “And keep my weapon?” “And keep your weapon. Show it to us again, won’t you?” “A bludgeon?” Seamus chuckled. “I thought it was a pigeon,” Chuck seamusled. “Shut up you two. The line’s moving,” BB pointed. |
| Problem was, it was a very long line. "Peanuts! Get your peanuts!" shouted a walking vendor. |
"I'll take a bag of those," Seamus said. As the line inched forward he cracked open peanuts between his thumb and forefinger, using a quick jerk of his wrist to toss the nut meat into his mouth, then toss the shell halves onto the ground. By the time the line had moved far enough to bring the four heroes halfway closer to the Tilt-A-Whirl ride, Seamus had finished off the bag of peanuts. "Where's a drink vendor?" he said. "I'm thirsty." Chuck sighed. "This sure is a popular ride." |
| A high-pitched voice at Chuck's ankle spoke. "That's because it's the only ride available," Chuck looked down at the source of the voice. A large white rat, with irredescent red eyes looked up at him pleadingly. "Don't take this the wrong way dude," Chuck said, "but your eyes are glowing red." "Yeah, I know. I hate it too. I'm Chub-Chub's brother, Carl." Carl held out his paw, and Chuck bent to shake it. "But why do you look so... " "Fooking creepy? It's from a recessive gene that was aided by the radiation. Chub-Chub is a mutant and so am I. Though white rats with red eyes are commonplace, not many have human hands and stingers at the end of their tails." Chuck looked closely at Carl's hands and sure enough, they were extremely human-like. He didn't bother to look at the tip of the rat's tail, which was swishing menacingly in the cool afternoon air. Carl continued. "Anyway, what I was about to say, if you are bored witht the Tilt-a-Whirl, you should visit Carl's Cavernous Cadaverous Carnival, located in the substructure of New Lufchatel." "An underground carnival?" chuck said. "Sure, it's ran by all the mutant animals and humans too embarrassed to show their faces. You should give it a try!" "I'll think of it. Let me consult with my freinds here, they're getting a little bored with the Tilt-a-Whirl too." Meanwhile, REAPER sat next to Georgette at the dining room table, contemplating ending her life. He was tired of her promiscuous behaviour, barbecued chicken and lack of sexy underwear. |
| “What’s the matter, schweetie?” Georgette asked. “You look like you’re contemplating doing something to me that I won’t like.” Is she a mind-reader now, too? thought Mr. Death. Then aloud: “ME WANT SEE OTHER PEEPUL.” Meanwhile, in Carl’s Cavernous Cadaverous Carnival, the Gator Crew were selling “food”. “Ox livers, Bat spleens, Crunchy frog, get ‘em while they’re hot. Butt cocoa, finest in the cavern.” Aristocrates, Hoary Hooter, Marcus and Amanda were milling about. “It’s amazing what some people will sell,” Marcus said. His hand clasped Amanda’s shoulder as they strolled between various booths. “Whatever happened to Dollar for a Kiss or Guess Your Weight?” “Well, this is the underground carnival, babe. It’s prolly like this because the mutant animals and humans too embarrassed to show their faces like this kind of stuff. They’re drawn to it. Like white rats with red eyes, human hands and tail stingers,” Amanda said intelligently. Aris produced a coin from somewhere and bought a crunchy frog. Hoary was his “date” tonight. Of course, it was midday up above ground. But down here, everything was dark, so it was considered nighttime. “Is that gooooood?” Hoary hootspoke. Aris offered her some. But when she looked, she saw it had bones in it. “Why boooooones?” “If they took the bones out, it wouldn’t be crunchy, would it?” Aris shot back teasingly. At the far end of the cavern, several rides were proclaiming their fun. Carl’s Calamitous Coaster There were more loops than straight parts. Carl’s Cheery Cabin It was a fun-house that promised horrors. Carny Carl’s Cups-o-Cocoa Like the Tilt-A-Whirl, but each rider receivied a cup of cocoa to try to sip while being spun around. Most of the “people” staggering off that ride had some brown stains on their clothing. |
| There was so much to do, but so little time. And the lines were long as well. |
"Let's split up," Chuck said to his three buddies. "There are so many coupless down here that it looks gay for four dudes to go on the rides together." "Oh, stop with your gay fears," Seamus protested. Chuck was always having gay fears. "We're a posse. You don't have couples in a posse." "I don't mind splitting up," Frank said. "We can pick up some chicks and then we'll be four couples." Seamus waved his hands to say no way. "Divided we fall! United we stand!" "Then we're divided," Chuck said, " because I am splitting." "Me too," Frank said. Seamus felt isolated and alone without his friends clustered around him. It was dark in the underground carnival and even the people who weren't mutants had a creepy, sinister look about him. "I better get drunk," Seamus said, "Or I'm going to freak out." Aris was munching on his second Crunchy Frog while Hoary watched him. She shook his shoulder. "Something bother me. You squirrel, right? You eat nuts, not meat." Aris licked some frog juice off his finger. "I'm a ZOMBIE squirrel. Zombies don't eat fruit and nuts and veggies." Aris laughed to think that Hoary could be so misinformed. Hoary didn't laugh with him. "Me not so dumb like you think." Aris finished off the last of the frog - the butt - the best part. He always saved the butt for last. "Awww, I don't think you're so dumb. Come on and ride the Calamitous Coaster with me. It will be a hoot." "Heehee!" Hoary said. "HOOT! HOOT!" |
| Gerg was trying to fit through the entryway to the underground carnival (CCCC for short) and was having extreme difficulty. "Honey, should I get some butter?" Atina cooed, trying to calm his increasing temper. "Get Chobee, he'll know what to do!" Atina grimaced. She and Chobee didn't get along so well after the stale fruitcace incident, and she would rather avoid Chobee, Cherie and their strange family altogether. She chose to ignore her giant lover's pleas. Finally, with the help of some generic lard, Gerg popped through the door and landed in the odd-smelling sawdust that littered the entire surface of the Cavernous Carnival. He had to crawl a few hundred feet before the ceiling was high enough for him to stand upright. "Wow..." he gasped. |
| Slinky sat on the left side in front of the spectators, dressed to the nines, as they say in rat-world. If he hadn’t been so short - only four point five inches tall - he could’ve passed for a mobster (pronounced Legitimate Businessman). His blue pin-striped suit had a shine to it (Slinky’s third girlfriend had used her special technique). Even his brown / black Oxfords were mirror-like. BBWolf sat beside his lawyer. “But we’re not ready,” BB urged. “You said so yourself.” “If our opponents show, we’ll ask for a stay. If they don’t, it’ll be postponed for us. Relaaaaax,” Slinky urged. Well, one thing BB really liked about this guy was that he referred to the enemy as “our opponents”. That was classy. Next, he’ll be referring to them as “our acquaintances”, which would be a real scream. (Will Smith, Gene Hackman; Enemy of the State. Really? You gotta see it. Huh? Back to the story? Okay) Meanwhile, Gerg, having stood up, was impressed with the size of the place. He couldn’t go on any of the rides, of course. But the main drag was filled with all sorts of carnival activities. Heck, he’d only dreamt of a booth where you get to blow little pieces of paper off pedestals into sacks. And here it was: Blow Jobs !! Gerg scratched his head wondering where he might have heard that phrase before. Unfortunately, when he did, dandruff drifted down to the ground. By the time it reached there, some of the scalp flakes were as large as (what used to be known as Oriental) throw-rugs. Here in the CCCC, rats with more than the usual number of appendages were commonplace. The dandruff landed on enough of them that they called formed a new-wave band and called themselves the Rug-Rats. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Toby and Georgette had just finished vacuuming the rugs in the kitchen. Toby picked up a spatula and waggled it at Georgette with a fecal-matter-eating-grin on his face. “You’re a goooood vacuum cleaner. Time for flapjacks!” Toby was relieved that, during his latest “meanwhile”, Georgette had shown him many things he’d never thought possible. Let’s just say that Slinky’s girlfriend’s special technique was good for a rat. But Georgette’s style was ten times as good as Seek. (Strange name for a rat, you say? Just be glad her name wasn’t Dandelionwishes.) |
| BBWolf was looking at his watch. "When are they going to get here?" he asked. "They said they'd be here at three, and it's four now." "Perhaps your watch is off by an hour." |
"Oh, you're almost right. I was looking at it upside down." Meanwhile, Carl, owner of Carl’s Cavernous Cadaverous Carnival, was in his office shuffling papers. His secretary put one hand on her hip and pointed at the papers with her other hand. "Does it really matter what order they are in?" "Yes," Carl said. "I want you to do first things first for a change. You've been getting away with too much crappy work just because you're a blonde with a big bust. Ramona fluffed her hair with one hand and shoved up on her bra with her other hand. "I can't help being blessed by Mother Nature. That's why you gave me the job, isn't it?" "Yeah, but I didn't know you had a 'look but don't touch' policy." "Honey, I barely make enough money here to let you look. I'm gonna need a BIG raise if you want to touch it too." "Then get some work done if you want a raise. I'm going out to inspect the operation." After he shut the door behind him Ramona muttered, "Sure, Mister Cheapskate Tycoon, go inspect your operation." Then she picked up the last paper and started typing. Carl listened with satisfaction to the screams coming from his Cheery Cabin and Calamitous Coaster. He promised thrills and chills to the public and he delived them, by gum! Well, not by gum, although there was some gum for sale at the snack bar, but it wasn't very thrilling. No sir, he delivered thrills and chills the old fashioned way with hot-wired ride seats and bribes to the inspectors so that he could keep his ramshackle coaster going despite three accidents already this year. But the news stories were good for business. "Hey, mister! Is that the roller coaster where the little girl got her arm chopped off?" Sure is, kid. Hop on board if you're brave enough. |
| Chobee, Cherie and the Ornotchobee clan were wondering where all the townsfolk had gone. The sights and sounds of New Lufchatel had grown steadily dimmer and softer in the past few days. Jr. asked his father if he could go off wandering on his own. But his father shot that idea down. To Jr.’s surprise, though, he let him hook up with Hirsute, the poor, homeless werewolf in town. To add to his surprise, Hirsute described things to Chobee Jr. that he’d only heard about, while hanging outside Purple Haze’s Aperitifs. “So THAT’s why it’s a red-light district,” he exclaimed. “Thanks Hirsy.” Hirsute was glad to have a male companion. Not that he was into little boys. But the females in this town were just too danged weird, for his tastes. Granted, his tastes ran a little on the wild side once a month. But so did Harry’s. Even Hirsute was surprised to find out about the cavern. If he’d been a native of Lahtrednaen, he’d have hooted. As it was, he abandoned his guest and ran all the way to town screaming, “It is boiling up from the depths. It is boiling up from the depths!” Chobee Jr...? Well, let’s just say that by the time he got back home, he’d found out a lot about what adults do when they’re not around children. He shuddered, thinking, “I’M never going to have kids.” |
| Meanwhile, BBWolf was still waiting on Blizard's Lawyers. "When are they going to get here?" he muttered. |
At Blizzard International Headquarters, five guys in expensive suits were sitting around a conference table. "So what are we going to do about the wolf?" asked Mister Bald Head. "I say blow him away," volunteered Mister Big Belly. "Ahhhh," said Mister Blackframe Glasses, "the Three Little Pigs approach. I like it." "Wait a minute," said Mister Shiny Shoes. "Wasn't it the other way around? The wolf blew the pigs, not the pigs blew the wolf." Mister Bald Head slammed his fist against the table. "Who blew who is not the issue here! That wolf is annoying me. If we have to blow him away, then let's blow him away." "You mean kill him, right sir?" said Mister Shiny Shoes. "Shhhh! This room could be bugged! Didn't they teach you anything in Lawyer School?" "That sounds more like Espionage School, sir." Mister Big belly stood up and hooked his thumbs through his belt. "I think we may have a little internal problem." He nodded meaningfully in Mister Shiny Shoes' direction. Everyone looked at Mister Shiny Shoes, who started trembling. "Hey! Wait a minute! I'm new here. I deserve a little leeway, don't I? Sure, maybe I don't know all the right things to say but-" "Shut up!" Mister Bald Head growled. "You're indecisive, wishy-washy, overly sensitive, too unceratin about meanings and definitions. You're not one of us." A tear rolled down Mister Shiny Shoes cheek. "Please... don't blow me away." After a long pause while everyone stared with disgust at the pitiful spectacle of Mister Shiny Shoes, there came a voice that hadn't been heard before, the fifth person in the room. His voice was like a million whispers. "You have one chance to redeem yourself." Mister Shiny Shoes fell to his knees. "Yes! Yes! I'll do it! Whatever it is." "Visit the wolf." "Wh-what?" Mister Shiny Shoes whimpered. "By myself?" "Yes. You will handle the wolf problem. By your success you shall redeem yourself in our eyes. Now go! Go swiftly and perform your deed like a true hero!" |
| "Alright! Where's Judge Judy at?" BBWolf exclaimed. "I'm going to sue these guys for Failure to show up!" |
There was a knock at the door. On the porch was a man in an expensive suit and some very shiny shoes. "Yes?" BBWolf said. "Hello! I'm Mister Shiny Shoes from Blizzard Entertainment!" They shook hands. "We all had a good laugh at headquarters at your outrageous plaigarism of Blizzard software." "Now wait a minute," BBWolf said. "That wasn't plaigarism. I changed the names and everything." "Hahaha!" laughed Mister Shiny Shoes. "If it were only that easy, eh? Why even the Chinese would be pirating our games. Now here is the deal I am prepared to offer you. You destroy all your work on your WarStarCraft game. Burn everything. Forget you ever thought of anything so morally wrong." "And what do I get in return?" "Your life," Mister Shiny Shoes said. "Whaaaat? Are you actually threatening to kill me?" Mister Shiny Shoes grinned. "At Blizzard we call it getting blown away." "I'm not some game character that you can just wipe off the screen!" BBWolf said. "I'm a real person and I have a lawyer! A good one! We intend to fight everything Blizzard throws at us." "Really?" Mister Shiny Shoes said. "You intend to fight the inventors of the plasma gun, the triple barrel shotgun, the atomic annihilator bazooka, and many other fine weapons, and do it with what? A rat lawyer?" "How did you know he was a rat?" Mister Shiny Shoes chuckled. "Dude, you're online. You're part of our gaming network. We know EVERYTHING about you." "Get out!" BBWolf shouted. "Get out and prepare to see me in court! I will fight this!" "You're making a mistake..." But BBWolf pushed Mister Shiny Shoes out the door and slammed it. Then he sat down on the floor and put his head in his hands. "Oh God, I hope Uncle Slinky is half the lawyer he thinks he is. Otherwise, I'm screwed." |
| The truth was, Uncle Slinky was the better lawyer...in this case. At the Khasachasistan bar exam of 1999, Slinkington Thaddeus Deshilbatse (aka Slinky) had beaten Mister Shiny Shoes by a score of 100 to 78. When next they appeared in court together, the Slinkster had the Blizzard kid in tears. Yep. This case would certainly be the end of his association with Mister Poopy Pants and Mister Whiner Baby. When it was all over and BBWolf had come out victorious (on a technicality, it turned out!), the kid realized he'd better find other employment. "...and that's why my name has never been uttered before today in your funny little campfire," bemoaned Zhinee Chuze. Then he handed a giant wad of cotton candy to the girl standing in front of him in the CCCC. She'd made the mistake of asking him his life story, instead a wad of cotton candy, because she was from Uzbalaaland and didn't know the correct translation. Khasachasistan is lucky in the sense that everyone uses the English language to write. But enough of the history lesson. Wonder whatever happened to REAPER? |
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